Narrator's POV
She knew when the right time would be.
She was like that; very observant, very detailed and cautious about her actions, she was sly, for one, and made sure not to leave evidence of anything, no matter what, no matter where.
It was in her nature.
So she watched. She watched where she wouldn't be seen. She made sure she couldn't be felt. She let the darkness cover her, surround her, close her in where she wouldn't be found. And from there, she watched. She studied. She was there for days; plotting. Planning. Gaining knowledge.
She had mastered the nursery; where the door was, how the windows were opened, how you could get there from every other room in the house. She watched; she learned. With every day that passes, she knew more.
And it would benefit nobody but herself.
Days into her observance, she watches from a different angle. Still hidden; differently.
Anakin Skywalker walks out onto the balcony, the front balcony where his fighter was kept, with his wife.
Demetrious swallows as she watches this, burying away any remaining thoughts of Anakin. She was simply watching; not feeling, not enduring. Not yet.
He hugs her; their embrace is long. They don't let go for moments on end. She can't hear what they're saying.
He leaves.
She stays hidden as the fighter jolts off into the atmosphere - Coruscant. She thinks. He's returning for the Temple, the Council. Are they even aware of his refuge on Naboo?
She watches Padmé bury her face in her hand, her other arm wrapped tightly to her body. She was crying, trembling. She was afraid.
Demetrious studies the scene. She hears voices as she watches.
Anakin, you can't go -
Trust me, Padmé. You will be safe, I promise you. The children will be safe. I'll only be gone a day, Padmé, only a day.
You can't leave us here, Anakin, what if they come back?
They won't come back.
Demetrious evilly smiles under her hood. If only he knew I'd be back.
After the voices ring through her head, she has more knowledge. It's... satisfying. She watches Padmé as she finally ceases her cries to slip back inside. The day is fading, and Anakin makes no return.
He would be gone a day.
Now was her time to strike.
She couldn't do it all at once; she had to be unseen, still. Padmé couldn't do anything, the woman wasn't entirely weak - but she was to a degree. Demetrious had, to her benefit, already mapped out the house and has figured out the direct route to the nursery without coming in contact with Anakin and Padmé's shared bedroom.
It would be perfect. There was no stopping her now.
She neared the bottom glass door. This lead to a wooden staircase, and at the top of the stairs, was the twins' room.
With a bolt of Force lightning, a quick jolt to the padlock sealing the glass door, it was opened. Electricity flooded through the lock, unclasping it. Broken in two, it clattered to the floor.
She snuck in through the door. The house was silent. Nobody could sense her. Nobody knew she was there.
She didn't bother closing the door behind her. This wouldn't be her way to exit, but she thought she might as well leave some evidence to freak them all out. It was her speciality.
The staircase. Wooden, creaky. She made her way up it delicately, carefully. Only a few floorboards squeaked, nothing major. Still, the house was silent. Everything was... calm.
She made her way to the top. The twins' room was just before her, and the door was closed...
Demetrious closes her eyes for a moment. She senses them, both of them, just behind the door. Nobody else was in the room with them. Padmé hadn't even thought to stay in the same room as them tonight... I figured.
They were Force-sensitive. Very, actually. It was useful. Indeed useful.
She clasped her flesh hand lightly around the doorknob. She would make no mistakes. She wouldn't fail herself this time.
She opens the door. The door was not creaky; it slid smoothly, without a noise. No sound. It remained peaceful in the house.
The children lie asleep. Demetrious blinks blankly as she nears them, watching the sleeping children. Oh, how delicate they were, only three years old. She figured they would be loud if she startled them - she hadn't thought this part through.
She froze in her tracks, realizing that her shields she put up must have been strong enough to prevent either of the children from sensing her presence. Sith benefits, she thinks, before nearing the girl's crib.
She rests her hands upon the outline of the wooden crib, watching the child sleep. She was soft, delicate. She made little to no noise, sleeping soundly, unaware of anything that was about to happen.
Her entire life was about to change.
And then, before Demetrious was able to take the toddler into her arms, she felt something again. A sharp pain, to the back of her skull, the impact of a knife drawing into it.
She slaps a hand to the back of her head, trying to cease the pain, and then an image struck her. It was younger her, padawan her - why was she seeing this?
She investigated the abrupt image. She was with Anakin... meeting his children. His newborn children.
They already know me.
She saw farther into it. Farther into the images she urged herself, in her rage, to forget. She fought severely to rid her mind of these images, without knowing he useful they truly were...
The children liked her.
Luke and Leia... liked her.
She pushed the images away. She would have no more of that.
She nears Leia now. Softly, delicately, all at once - she lifts the child into her arms.
The child lets out a small whimper, but keeps her eyes closed. She was heavy, too - great.
The child fusses in her sleep, but settles in Demetrious' arms. Leia's head falls on her shoulder.
Demetrious watches the child. My apprentice, she thinks, hoping the message reached the Force-sensitive girl, You and I are going to rule the galaxy together.
She raises her hand, and swipes it quickly to the right. The window slides open, giving her a perfect exit - the window was large enough for her to fit through, as it stretched from a few inches above the ground, to a few inches below the ceiling.
She steps out into the night. Quiet, peaceful. The job was done.
She closes the window now, and steps to her fighter, which was nearby.
Demetrious sets the child in, locked in securely for a hyperspace flight back to her Imperial Cruiser.
Now that wasn't so hard, was it?
Demetrious starts up the fighter, praying the noise of the jolted start wouldn't awaken Padmé.
She flew away, bursting into the night, just as Padmé entered the twins' room and screamed wretchedly, echoing throughout the galaxy.
My apprentice. You're mine now, Leia Skywalker.
• • •
The second his wife contacted him in the middle of the Naboo night, he knew something was wrong.
The second her image appeared - crying, broken - he knew. He knew something was wrong, horribly wrong.
In truth, it had struck him before that - the moment she was abducted.
He felt it strike him through his heart.
In the middle of a Council meeting, he clutched his chest.
"Young Skywalker," addresses Mace, but Anakin was too pained to worry, "Is everything all right?"
Anakin shook his head weakly, his gloved hand still clutching his chest strongly. "If you'll - excuse me, for a moment," he breathes, savoring every breath he could intake as his heart stirred, shattering before his very soul.
He rose, leaving the Council room.
The men exchanged looks; Obi-Wan rose as well. After all, he was the only one that knew of Anakin's family, especially that they were seeking safety on Naboo. "I best go check on him," Obi-Wan explained to the group, "I'll only be a moment."
He walked into the hallway, where Anakin was pacing frantically, almost - waiting for him.
"Anakin? What's the matter with you?"
Anakin stops pacing, hand still clutched to his chest, and glances up at Obi-Wan. "Something - something's wrong," he chokes out, sounding more nerve-wracked than Obi-Wan had ever seen him.
He approaches the grief-stricken former apprentice of his and places a hand on his left shoulder, which always seemed to assure him. "Search your feelings, Anakin." He lowers his voice to a whisper only Anakin could hear. "What is the problem?"
Anakin knits his eyebrows, almost... confused. But he wasn't confused. He knew what was happening. He had to do something. "It's Padmé." He looks away from his Master, feeling as though something had just occurred to him... "The twins. Something's wrong, something terrible has happened, I - I have to go back, I have to go back to Naboo. I shouldn't have left," he pants, blaming himself as he looks down at his feet, shuffling them anxiously.
Obi-Wan takes his hand off Anakin's shoulder. "If you must, I advise you do that immediately, Anakin. Contact me when you arrive. I'll... let the Council know of your absence..."
Anakin looks at him, big eyes pleading to not give him away...
"No, Anakin," Obi-Wan assures, reading his eyes, "I'm not going to state exactly what. Perhaps a sickness will do."
Anakin nods frantically. "Thank you - Master. I - I have to go, now. I'll contact you when I get to Naboo."
He turns on his heels and sprints down the Temple halls, and Obi-Wan exhales alarmingly as he watches Anakin nearly stumble and fall into multiple beings as he makes his way down the hall.
• • •
"Padmé!"
His voice rings through the house. Strong. Bold, yet afraid. Armed. He receives no response. His blood runs cold. His forehead washes over with heat, angering, horrified heat. His heart rate increases; the knifed pain isn't ceasing, making it harder to breathe.
Harder to scream out for the ones he loved as he searched for them.
"Padmé!" he shouts again, his voice growing raspy, hoarse. It hurt to yell, to scream out for her. He darts through the front door, his eyes searching every crevice and corner they could reach before entering the next room. With every empty room, every vacant response, his heart increased. The pain grew. Everything ached. Yet, he didn't stop.
He was panting now; he could feel his hair sticking to his head like it always did when he was panicked, or exhausted. Now, he was both.
He couldn't sense her. Where is she?
He enters the toddler's room.
His heart melts to nothing, as his entire world, his entire galaxy, lies in pieces before him.
His wife kneels at the empty crib, having collapsed to the floor beside it. Crying. A heap of a mess.
He shakes his head. "Oh, no, Padmé," he breathes out, rushing to her aid, taking her in his arms.
The way he did when his mother died.
"Padmé..." the name was repetitive now. He had said it a lot; still, music to his ears.
He brushes his hand along her tear-stained, flushed cheek as she cried. She buries her face in his tunic, the crook of his neck, and sobbed. She sobbed into him, her wails breaking Anakin's heart.
"Leia's gone," she cries, "She's gone, Anakin. I told you you shouldn't have gone, Ani, I told you..."
He blinks back tears. He swallows; it hurts. It was hurting less as she was against him; yet, everything hurt. Especially his heart.
He softens his voice, afraid of breaking out into a sob. I promised her this wouldn't happen... I promised her!
"Shh, Padmé, my love... It's - it's all right," he chokes out, brushing his hand down her thick curls, striking them as he held back tears, squeezing his eyes shut. He knew quite well he was going to cry. He wouldn't be able to hold it back now.
They sat on the floor, cuddled against each other, as he shed a tear.
"What are we going to do?" Padmé cries into his tunic, sniffing as she might. He holds her, caressing her skin and hair as he lightly touches her body, then holds her tight, pressing her against him.
She was gradually becoming more relaxed as he did this; holding her as close as possible always relaxed her. In a way, a calming way, it soothes him too.
"I - I don't know," he admitted in a cry, his voice cracking with every impending sob. He rubbed her back, gently and softly, letting his flesh hand radiate warmth onto her. He knew she always relaxes when he did that.
She sighs, but it is jagged and hoarse. She was a mess, and he hated seeing her like this. He couldn't stand it.
They didn't know what they were going to do. Truthfully, there wasn't much they could do. As that thought dawned on them, they pressed themselves closer, feeling how saddened each other was. Feeling the depression, the grief. For him; the anger. The hate. And for her; separation. Regret. Fear.
And that was how their night ended: they sat cuddled against each other on the wooden floor, their arms wrapped around each other, heads pressed against one another, tears falling, cries muffling as they could only imagine the horrible things that must be happening to their beloved daughter, Leia.
A/N: Sorry about the lack of Forbidden updates, I should have one really really soon!
Anyways, hope you guys enjoy... sometimes, with certain stories, I'm not big on happy endings.
And The Chosen One is coming to a close...
but not yet.
Stay tuned, and as always, thanks for reading!
- Claudia