Chapter Text
The Queen of Naboo— former Queen, she reminded herself bitterly— stared out the viewport of the yacht that had managed to break through the blockade long enough to extract her and two of her handmaidens, watching the stars blur by as they hurtled through hyperspace.
She’d failed. She had completely, utterly failed everyone. As Eirtaé and Sabé sat on either side of her, rubbing at her back reassuringly, her tears flowed freely. She was grateful to them for trying to ease her pain, but all it did was remind her that they were the only three who had survived the invasion. Saché, Rabé, Yané, Fé… all of them were gone, if not dead, then trapped in one of the camps the Trade Federation had set up for Naboo citizens, along with the rest of her council. The Gungans she had desperately appealed to had been massacred while she attempted to liberate the palace. There were battle droids swarming all over her planet, ships creating a secondary atmosphere.
And she had refused to sign the treaty, even when her family’s lives had been in the balance. She had known Gunray would only break his word if she had complied. And for her defiance, he had ordered their murder. Her mother, her father, her sister, all shot down, right before her eyes. And she had not been allowed to mourn them properly before the extraction team had come for them. Sabé and Eirtaé were all she had now.
“My lady, we are approaching Coruscant now,” one of the blue armored Senate guards told her, and Padmé winced. It was yet another site of her failure, nothing had worked. Not the vote of no confidence against Valorum, not the Jedi, nothing. She nodded silently.
Eirtaé moved to fix her cosmetics, and Padmé pushed her hand away. “Let them see me like this. Let the Republic know just how much they failed us and our home.”
She had been raised to believe in democracy, in its merits, and in its goodness. She had been right when she spoke to Palpatine before. The Republic no longer functioned. And no one could fix it.
The ship docked on the landing pad, and Padmé slowly made her way down the ramp into the open arms of the newly elected Chancellor Palpatine. Holocameras flashed, they were surrounded by a crowd of reporters and dignitaries, but Padmé didn’t care, she let herself keep crying for the entire galaxy to see.
“There now, my dear,” Palpatine reassured her, holding her as if she were his own child, guiding her towards the waiting shuttle. The members of the press started to talk, but the Chancellor held up his hand. “No questions. Out of respect for our home, I declare tomorrow a day of mourning throughout the Republic.”
Padmé kept looking directly ahead for the entire journey to the Presidential Palace. Palpatine did all the talking. “I am so sorry for the loss of your family, my dear. They were all wonderful people and they will have justice. I promise you.”
“You promised you would help our home,” she reminded him sharply. “And because of that, our home has been lost, our people are either slaughtered or imprisoned, and I am here when I have no right to be.”
“If you were still on Naboo, the Trade Federation would be torturing you within an inch of your life to get you to surrender,” Palpatine reminded her, his tone sharp but not unkind. It reminded Padme of her father scolding her for eating too many sweets before dinner. “You can do more good here. Perhaps we can discuss this in a more private setting.” Slowly, Padmé nodded and watched as he gave orders to the guards to show Eirtaé and Sabé to their suite. Then he led her into a room that wouldn’t have looked out of place at a Lake Country estate like her beloved Varykino, or House Palpatine’s villa, Convergence. Though, Palpatine had sold that after his family’s untimely deaths and his election to the Senate.
“I want Obi-Wan Kenobi expelled from the Jedi Order,” she declared bitterly as she took a seat on one of the plush red couches. “He abandoned his mission, fled back here with his master’s body when Naboo needed him.”
“I do not have power over the Order, dear one,” Palpatine reminded her as he sat opposite her, but Padmé was at the end of her patience. She would not stay quiet.
“Then what do you have the power to do? Perhaps I should have taken my chances with Valorum, you seem just as useless as him!” she snapped furiously. “The Trade Federation knows of the Republic’s weakness now, what is to stop them from expanding their holds further!”
“Your rage is understandable and warranted. But you must focus it,” he instructed her, taking her hand. “I was very fond of all your family, and I would never dream of replacing them in your heart, Padmé, but if you will permit me this— allow me to formally adopt you, and here, on Coruscant, I will teach you everything you need to know. Together, we can achieve extraordinary things.”
“ How ?” Her tone was challenging, defiant. But she had not pulled away from him.
“There are undoubtedly those in the Senate who share your concerns. If you show them the passion you have shown me just now, you may be able to sway them towards another vote, and this time, it will be one to grant me emergency powers. This is an emergency, do you not think so?”
“It absolutely is. And emergency powers will allow you to pass by the stagnation that lost Naboo,” Padmé said, slowly catching on to his meaning. “But what if I fail, your Excellency?”
“With my teachings, you cannot possibly do so,” he promised. “But what do you say to the first half of my proposition, my dear?”
She hesitated, biting down on the scar of remembrance that still adorned her lip. “All I ask is that you do not require me to call you Father when we are in private. My heart is not prepared to welcome a new parent while it still grieves the two I only just lost.”
“Sheev, then,” Palpatine suggested. “Will that suit you?”
“Yes.”
“Then we are agreed?”
“We are.”
“Good. I shall have a droid take you to rejoin your handmaidens, and tomorrow, we shall take the day for mourning, as I told the press. After that, your training begins in earnest… My daughter. ”
Under the careful watch of Count Dooku, to whom Anakin had to get used to training with, the nine-year-old boy trained with a PROXY droid because, apparently, that was all he did these days. Train and train some more. Palpatine had been very specific about it. You have a great deal of potential, my boy, you can be extraordinary. But for that, you have to work harder than you did before. Anakin had been a slave, he knew hard work. He often still scratched the place where his chip had been before Palpatine had ordered its removal. Don’t you want to avenge your Mother’s death? The thought of his Mother’s passing made Anakin’s movements more erratic and angry.
I will avenge your death, Mom.
Dooku, from the sidelines, frowned. The boy had the highest midi-chlorian count ever registered and it had been a stroke of genius from his Master to find and take the boy before the Order got a hold of him. Such extraordinary power in the hands of Master Yoda would have been a waste. He trained the boy because it was his orders, but the youngling driving him mad with his reckless behavior, know-it-all attitude and frankly, the interest his Master showed on the Chosen One. It made Dooku wonder about his future.
“Watch your step,” he noticed coldly. “You look like you’re trying to dance with a bantha,” Dooku scolded. “Don’t just wave your lightsaber around trying to hit it, do actually use some of what you’ve been taught.”
The Count didn’t hear a word from the boy, but he saw him bare his teeth in frustration. Good. “We don’t want to tell the Chancellor you were beaten by a droid, now do we, young one?”
Anakin scowled. Palpatine had told him he would train him. Certainly, it would be a much enjoyable session. Palpatine truly cared about him and what he felt.
Dooku’s comm beeped and he removed himself to a more private corner. “Yes, Master?”
“Prepare the boy, Lord Tyranus. There is a special announcement I would like him to bear witness to.” Straight and to the point. The communication was ended and Dooku returned to the sidelines of Anakin’s training, only to see him destroy the droid.
“There’s something for you to tell the Chancellor,” he said, a boyish smile adorning his features. Such things would be removed with time, Dooku thought to himself. Anakin was not aware of what his life would be.
“You are to be prepared for a ceremony.”
“What? What kind of ceremony? Will there be a feast?”
“Is that all you can think about? Food?”
“I also think about eradicating the Tuskens,” Anakin replied darkly.
“You’d best be on your way to your rooms. I will meet you in one standard hour and you need to be ready.”
“Won’t we meet with the Chancellor?”
“The Chancellor has more pressing things to attend to. Do as you are told, Anakin, this is a lesson you will either learn by yourself or by brute force. You don’t want to be late.”
Anakin didn’t say anything else to the Count and returned to his rooms, where aides were already waiting for him. He didn’t know what kind of ceremony he was going to be a part of, but whatever it was about and considering the clothes that were displayed for him to wear, it was important. An hour later, he was staring himself into the mirror. What he saw was a very different reflection of who he used to be, dressed in slave clothing.
The door to his room was open suddenly, startling him.
“Don’t you knock?” Anakin scowled. “I could’ve been undressed.”
“If you were, I would drag you undressed to the ceremony. It has been one hour. We should go. The Chancellor does not take lightly to delays.”
With one last look at the mirror, Anakin jogged to catch up with Dooku, that had turned his back and charged down the hall. What was this all about?
The Senate Rotunda was huge, big enough to fit at least three Mos Epsas, if he wasn’t mistaken. There were a few holocameras floating around to project whoever was speaking, and right now they were trained on the Chancellor’s pod where Palpatine— or Lord Sidious, as he’d heard Dooku call him— stood with a figure cloaked in black. Then the camera caught her face and Anakin’s eyes widened.
Angel. That was his only description for the young woman that stood by the Chancellor’s side as he announced his decision of her adoption. It could only be one because he had heard the deep space pilots talk about them and they were the most beautiful creatures in the universe. “Who is she?” he whispered to Dooku.
Sighing, Dooku gave him a sideways glance. “Haven’t you been hearing the Chancellor?”
Not really, Anakin thought. He had been focused on the Angel. “Hmm…”
“Honestly…” there was frustration lacing the Count’s voice. “That young woman is Padmé Amidala, the former Queen of Naboo. Her home was taken by the Trade Federation, her family slaughtered. The Chancellor is being very kind by offering her a home.”
“She’s living with us, then?” Anakin asked, hopeful.
“Smitten, are we?” Dooku’s lips curled back in a cold smile. “I hope you know that you are nothing more than a child to her,” Anakin’s mood dropped. “Besides, your focus will be your training. Lady Amidala will have a very important and very public role. I doubt you’ll see each other very much. Or at all.”
Frowning, Anakin stopped his queries. It was not hard to see that Dooku was not pleased to be dealing with him and his answers were always so brute, so cold. What did he even know? The Chancellor had spoken to Anakin about important plans for him too so he believed that one day, his role would even be bigger than the one Dooku had at the moment.
The Senate adjourned for a recess and the Chancellor joined them inside the viewing chamber where they had been watching. A slow smile spread across the old man’s face as his eyes surveyed Anakin. “Lord Tyranus tells me you are training well, my boy. You will be an excellent warrior, given enough time.”
“Is it time, then?” Dooku asked, and there might have been a hint of fear in his voice.
“It is. You have already departed from the Jedi Order?”
“Of course.”
“Then return to Serenno. Let it begin. Amidala will play her part well. You must do the same.”
Dooku bowed and slowly swept out of the room, leaving Anakin alone with the Chancellor.
“Chancellor, will you train me from now on?” Anakin asked. “I don’t think Count Dooku was thrilled for having to do it,” he added. “And I would rather learn from you.”
“Dooku knows your power surpasses his own. He fears you, and the idea that you will one day replace him as my Apprentice. It was Anakin, wasn’t it?”
“It is, Chancellor,” Anakin nodded. “I will one day be your Apprentice. I will train for it,” he vowed.
“Then that name must no longer have any meaning to you. Kneel.” It was a cold, firm voice that gave the order, one that was familiar to any slave on Tatooine.
A chill went down his spine and Anakin remembered Dooku’s earlier words. Do as you are told, Anakin, this is a lesson you will either learn by yourself or by brute force. He swallowed down the lump in his throat. Palpatine had made him promises. He was going to keep them, Anakin had to believe that. It was all he had after his Mother’s death and this couldn’t be worse than being a slave in Tatooine, starving and under the unforgiving twin suns. Shaking, he knelt in front of the Chancellor, head bowed.
“Do you accept my teachings and pledge yourself to the ways of the Dark Side?”
Anakin licked his dry lips. “Y--Yes. I d--do.”
Palpatine’s cold smile grew. “Good. Good. The Force is strong with you. A powerful Sith you will become. Henceforth, you shall be known as Darth… Vader .”
Anakin...no, he couldn’t be him anymore. If he wanted to take revenge for his Mother and be someone in his life, he needed to accept the Chancellor’s teachings. Vader stood, looking up at the Chancellor. “Thank you…” he held back a sigh at the next word. A word that he’d thought he would never have to utter again, after Tatooine. “...Master.”
“Your training begins in earnest tonight. I must return to the Senate now. Tell no one of what has passed here, Lord Vader. The Jedi have spies everywhere. As do our enemies.”
Padmé, dressed in the black mourning robes of Naboo, took a breath. To any outsider, it looked as if she was regaining her composure, but inside, it was just to run through what she planned to say yet again. This was something she only had one chance to do.
Bail Antilles and Ainlee Teem, the two members of the Senate that Palpatine had defeated stood a few feet away, talking to one another, but she knew they noticed her. “Senator Antilles. Representative Teem,” she said demurely.
Antilles bowed. “Lady Amida— I mean, Lady Palpatine. You have my deepest condolences for your loss.”
“I've heard that so many times I can almost believe it now,” Padmé murmured, looking down mournfully. “I only wish the actions of those saying it reflected their words.”
“My lady.” Teem shifted uncomfortably and Padmé had to keep her lip from curling in disgust. They should be uncomfortable.
“I hope your own worlds do not suffer as mine did when the Confederacy comes for them,” she continued.
“Now you go too far!” Teem scolded, and Padmé shrank back, her eyes brimming with tears.
“I only meant… I know that Alderaan is peaceful, just as Naboo was,” she whispered. “And that Malastare is in the Middle Rim, with valuable resources, and the Separatists have so many worlds there already, and the Republic has no means of combatting them…” She dissolved into calculated sobs, Eirtaé rushing to comfort her.
“There are military creation acts that have been presented—”
“But voted down every time,” Antilles reminded his Gran colleague. “We would have a better chance of voting the Chancellor emergency powers than getting the Senate to agree on a military creation bill.”
Almost too easy. “Why not do it, then?” Padmé asked innocently. “My father cherishes democracy as all our people do, he would not abuse the trust placed in him by this galaxy. You could do it, Senator Antilles, I know you could.” She watched the conflict playing out on his face as the chimes rang out, calling the Senate to reconvene. “I should go now. Good day, Senator. Representative Teem.”
As she swept away from them, Eirtaé followed, unable to keep her confusion from hiding. “My lady, that was… not what I expected from you.”
“Times are changing, Eirtaé. I have always said that popular rule is not democracy because it gives people what they want, rather than what they need.”
“But emergency powers—”
“Sometimes what the people need is for one person to take the lead.” Padmé interrupted coolly. “If we ever want to return to Naboo, desperate measures must be taken.” They were watching now from the pod that had once been Naboo’s, which was no longer illuminated to signify the world's being lost.
“The chair recognizes the honorable Senator from Alderaan,” Mas Amedda intoned, and Padmé let herself smile ever so slightly. Palpatine had been right.
“Thank you, Vice Chair. In response to the direct threat to the Republic from the Confederacy of Independent Systems, I propose that the Senate gives immediate emergency powers to the Supreme Chancellor,” Antilles intoned. There was immediate uproar, and Padmé leaned forward, watching intently as the Senator continued. “We were unprepared for the Trade Federation. While individual worlds might have their own militias, there are just as many who are undefended. And our failures at Naboo should not be repeated. We elected Chancellor Palpatine for a change of leadership. Should we not allow him to lead?”
There were shouts of protest, accusations of creating a dictator, but none of that deterred Bail Antilles. “That is the sentiment every one of us agrees with! And when the shadow of war has dispersed and the bright day of liberty has dawned once again, the power we now give to the Supreme Chancellor will be gladly, and swiftly returned. Our ancient liberties will be restored to us, burnished even more brightly than before!”
That last little speech earned him applause, and Padmé caught her adoptive father looking up at her, a grim satisfaction in his eyes as he spoke, not that anyone else recognized it. “It is with great reluctance that I have agreed to this calling. I love democracy... I love the Republic. The fact that this crisis is demanding I be given absolute power to rule over you is evident. But I am mild by nature and have no desire to destroy the democratic process. The power you give me I will lay down when this crisis has abated, I promise you. And all I ask in return is when my current term of office is over, you allow me to retire and live out my life in peace."
“We shall proceed to the vote. All those in favor of granting emergency powers to the Supreme Chancellor, signal ‘aye’ at this time…”
Padmé smiled as she watched the votes be cast, and listened to Amedda read the verdict. An overwhelming majority, a mandate to lead, punctuated by a slowly growing ovation from the assembly that echoed throughout the rotunda. So this is how justice is made, she thought quietly.