Nobody had any idea that she was cracking. Her mask remained poised, her voice remained steady, and her posture firm and unbreaking. When walking the halls of the Senate, she wouldn't wince or blink, even when hearing the whispers, "Has anybody seen Clovis?"

It was only when she got home, to her bed and droid companion that the mask would slip. Padmé would come home, kick off her shoes, and pop open her wine. Artoo, the poor discontented droid who was more equipped to handle war than a mentally ill woman, would beep sadly at her as she drank… and painted… and drank… and painted.

She was slowly teaching herself how to speak astromech, having bought a book to equip her. "Was that one beep or two?" She asked for the third time in a conversation. They were starting to develop a rhythm between the two of them, a comfortable camaraderie.

Padmé hadn't decided on the final painting she was going to display in her art exhibit at Dex's Diner. She was positive that her best works so far were her freshly finished Palace of Theed, and her detailed Otuh Gonga piece, the spectacular Gungan underwater city. She was currently debating whether the view of her family's lake retreat, Varykino, could compete with her other two intricate landscapes, or if she should instead include her portrait of Queen Jamillia, the young woman she had relinquished her throne to three years ago. The modern queen had convinced Padmé to represent the planet of Naboo in the Intergalactic Senate after stepping down from her role as monarch. The request was made after Padmé, or Queen Amidala at the time, had personally recommended the upcoming debutante to take control of the planet in her stead. Padmé held a lot of respect for her planet's queen, and thought it prudent it be known that her talent of painting goes beyond that of landscapes, although the beauty of nature was her speciality. Truthfully, she found portraits much more difficult as her nagging perfectionism caused her to obsess about capturing a person's likeness in more than just facial features.

"What do you think?" She asked Artoo, who was currently twiddling around with her coffee machine in the kitchen. The droid whirled around, steaming liquid trailing along the floor behind him. Padmé rolled her eyes at the droid's destructive tinkering. He had managed to improve many technological aspects of her home, however, he was having quite the time with the beverage maker.

Artoo spun between the two works of art before landing positively on the portrait of Naboo's current queen. He tweeted supportively, seeming to agree with her notion of including something different. The droid whirled back around at the Varykino painting and hummed thoughtfully, before beeping considerably.

"You think I should just bring both?" Padmé asked critically, stroking her chin in thought. "I suppose I could, I just usually settle upon odd numbers in order to have a centerpiece."

The droid beeped confidently, as if to say "both."

Padmé sighed, smiling at the astromech. "I suppose I'll take your advice. More is more, as they say."

She had been keeping under the radar, more so than usual. Before Clovis, she had at least spoken her edited opinion on several matters which she couldn't stand to stay quiet for. Now, however, Padmé was keeping a low profile. She still voted against the Empire, discreetly, but she knew that if she was found guilty of murder Palpatine would grant her no mercy. He was displeased with her insubordinate moves within the senate chambers, as discreet as they were, and she would undoubtedly lose any toe she were to step out of line. Sheev Palpatine and herself hailed from the same planet, and she had thought that had granted her an advantage when it came to his hand; however, since the unveiling of Darth Sidious, she was certain the facade Palpatine had put on of patriotism towards Naboo and herself was a sham. She was just a pawn, just as all who surrounded the Emperor were pawns. Even the ominous and looming figure of Darth Vader.

Darth Vader had been the Sith Lord that had almost ended the lives of her and Obi-Wan. She had heard him speak only a few words on the holonet after Palpatine had taken control of the galaxy, years ago, not thinking much of it or realizing what a danger he truly was. A few years later, Vader was considered mostly a myth amongst the Senate. He didn't involve himself in politics or in people, and hadn't ever been seen by most. She had done as much possible research on Palpatine's apprentice as was available to her in the public archives. He was behind the scenes, leading the battles. He was there so Palpatine didn't have to get his hands dirty in dealing with the Rebels. Perhaps his purpose was to continue the facade that the Emperor wasn't made of unwavering evil, as Vader was the one who completed the acts. When he was seen on the planet, the Sith Lord was viewed in terrified awe. Nobody knew what he looked like, as he wore a dark mask and cloak, his only defining features were his glowing eyes and intimidating size. He was like a phantom, the Emperor's ghostly assassin.

She was doing her part, although not as valiantly now that she was hiding from her gruesome crime, but she couldn't help but feel a chilling melancholy in the pit of her stomach as she thought of all the Rebels in the field that had succumbed to Vader's evil. "We've lost another squad. They were captured while stowing away on The Executor." Mon Mothma had informed everyone at the last meeting. The Executor was his ship. It was as though just as The Rebellion was growing they were learning exactly what they were up against. They were fighting a seemingly impossible fight.

It nagged at her conscious, at the very fibers of her being, why did Vader spare her, in that moment? Why was she alive, when countless others had fallen to his hand? She was in the company of a Jedi Master, a known senator, committing an unspeakable act of treason. How was she still alive after being in the presence of a soulless Sith Lord, the Hand of the Emperor?

Padmé was depressed, to say the slightest. She wasn't eating, she wasn't sleeping. She had torturous dreams of Clovis, her shame manifesting in visions of his corpse, chopped up but still alive. His eyes streamed with bloody tears as he gasped, "Why, Padmé ?" The monster would be there too, Vader, his eyes glowing with animosity in the darkness, his hand reaching out slowly as if to grab her throat… and she would wake up. Artoo would be waiting wearily at the end of her bed. As the days passed it seemed the small droid was beginning to care for her. He hadn't left her alone yet, that was. She knew the day would come when Clovis's remains would be found, and she would be questioned, and her guilt continued to gnaw at her as her impending reckoning approached.

Sure enough, the occasion came about a week before her art would be shown at Dex's, roughly five days after she and Obi-Wan had disposed of Clovis's corpse. The senate was whirling with excitement of seeing the artwork of the Senator of Naboo, Amidala, the former queen of the cultured planet. It was the day of a socialite banquet being held by the Emperor, where all of the upper class echelons would be gathering in his honor for a feast and fine wines. Padmé, who used to once quite enjoy parties, was dreading the banquet before news of Clovis's body graced the holonews.

She was standing in her office, chatting with her dear friend and representative of Naboo, Jar Jar Binks, who had just returned with the latest news of how the Empire's rule was progressing to affect the government of their home planet.

Jar Jar was a longtime friend of hers and Obi-Wan's. He had accompanied them to Tatooine, and had ultimately secured the truce between herself as queen of Naboo and Rugar Nass, leader of the gungans. She had appointed him a representative of Naboo when she had taken the position of senator, wanting to surround herself with loyal friends in an unfamiliar place. Jar Jar had taken to Coruscant quite well, although he was still rather clumsy and bemused. She found his quirks to be endearing. His lighthearted spirit helped her to experience rare and less serious moments of mirth. True laughter was hard to stumble upon these days, it was as if she had forgotten what Padmé's real laugh sounded like, so often having to produce the charming yet fraudulent chuckle of Senator Amidala.

"It's not good, Padme… Dha Emperor has sent more troops to enforce Imperial laws. Dha queen is overwhelmed with dha militarization of our peaceful planet—"

The news reporter, a sleazy rodian man, was barely holding back his excitement on the holoprojector broadcasting in the background of their conversation. "The Senator of Scipio, Rush Clovis, a member of the Intergalactic Banking Clan, was found dead early this morning, when a bartender at the Outlander Club was unable to be rid of a monstrous stench in the men's toilet. Upon further search the former senator was found mutilated inside of a cooling vent."

Her body went numb, and her feelingless hands dropped the important items she was holding in shock. Her holobook and several holodisks containing current Imperial orders that were in the process of being passed through the senate fell to the floor loudly, causing Jar Jar to jump backwards with a yelp.

"Padmé! Senator what isa? Are yousa alright?"

She scrambled to grab the remote to the projector, which was laying underneath a pile of paperwork on her desk. She urgently pushed the pile of parchment out of her way, not bothering to watch as it drifted to the ground to join the rest of her things. She turned up the television to maximum volume, causing Jar Jar to turn his attention to the news story.

"It's— just awful—" Padmé gasped, her chest heaving as the news broadcasted a blurred video of the remains of Clovis and the bathroom of The Outlander. Her pulse sped, although certain there was nothing unnatural about her reaction. Her hands shook, although she supposed that was quite normal since she had allegedly just found out one of her colleagues had been discovered dead in a most gruesome state. It was acceptable to allow herself a certain amount of panic.

"—It is most definitely foul play, Rafra." Another reporter, a human woman with a scrunched face had appeared on the opposite side of the screen. "Most definitely terrorism against the Empire and the Banking Clan."

"An act of horrific treason has been committed here," the rodian continued nasally, "I have witnessed today one of the most appalling crime scenes of my career… It is affirmatively in my top five. Back to you, Lede."

"How terrible!" The gungan cried, interrupting Padme's concentration on the holonews. "Senator Clovis! Someone is murder dha senators! Oh nosa, Padme—yousa're in danger!"

If only her friend knew how wrong he was. She was the danger, the murderer of a senator.

The Senate was ablaze with scandal, with all the politicians suspecting one another of involvement in foul play. Padme blended in with the shock and revulsion well, remaining poised as ever when Mon demanded the company of her and Bail before the banquet that evening. If she could convince her two greatest allies in the senate that she had nothing to do with this atrocity then Padme could convince anyone, perhaps even the Emperor if he were to suspect her.

"Senators Organa and Amidala, what are both of your thoughts on this tragic event?" Mon Mothma ushered Bail and Padme into her large office in the senate chambers later that afternoon. "Wait—" She interjected before either Bail or Padme could open their pursed mouths, "Sit, both of you." She gestured towards two burgundy upholstered armchairs facing her large mahogany desk.

"We have to be very careful." Mon muttered under her breath, stalking the room to make sure all of the doors and windows in the office were shut securely. She leaned underneath her desk to search for any kind of recording device, before moving to dig through the drawers of her desk vigorously. Padme and Bail watched silently as she checked behind each painting in the large room for any sort of spyware. It was several moments before she approached them again, sitting down warily in a high back wooden hair and facing them both with folded hands. "We must remain calm at the banquet tonight, I have heard rumors from a trusted source that he will be... interrogating suspects on the matter of Clovis amongst other things behind the scenes. As foul play is suspected, the Emperor has already been wary of treason with the growing Rebellion throughout the galaxy."

Padmé's stomach dropped, her face didn't so much as twitch.

"Padmé, you were investigating Clovis, do you have any speculations as to how this could have happened?"

"Mon, I wish I could say that I did," Padmé began gravelly, shaking her head. "It is most unfortunate that I was unable to secure the allegiance of Clovis before this event. We could have protected him."

"Do not make yourself responsible, Padmé." Bail shook his head at her implication. "There is nothing you could have done. Clovis knew the dangers of being involved with the Banking Clan. If there's one thing a man murders for, it's money."

"Had you heard from him after your speech last week? They're saying he's been dead since that night. You talked to him before your statement to the senate, correct? Did he seem… on edge?" Mon continued, face down turned into a thoughtful frown, her eyes searching Padmé's curiously.

"No," Padmé began, clearing her throat, "He seemed as jovial as ever. Although… Do you think someone overheard our conversation and interpreted it as plotting against the Empire?"

"That's impossible," Bail said immediately, shaking his head. "You were the one who approached him, and he made no clear allegiances. If that were the case you would be the one... deceased."

Padmé shivered believably. Her guilt and self hatred were buried deep, she was in survival mode now, doing what a politician does best—talking, listening, manipulating.

"We need to contact the Rebellion's off planet members." Mon declared, "We need a way to alert them if anyone is discovered, if someone is tortured into giving up the location of our base we need all our weapons, supplies, and numbers moved to our backup base."

Currently the Rebel outpost was located on a remote system, a salt planet called Crait. All of the Rebellion's gathered supplies and in-hiding fighter pilots and warriors resided there. If their location was discovered, it could destroy everything they had been building.

"We need to send out an encrypted transmission." Padmé said flatly, "There's no other way."

"What if it is discovered?" Bail countered, eyebrows raised, "We don't have much time to create a very strong encryption sequence."

Padmé knew she was already known to be sighted with Obi-Wan, at least by Darth Vader. He must have told the Emperor his suspicions on her identity. She was certain she would be questioned tonight. She should be the one who continues tiptoeing the line of exposure; Mon and Bail didn't need to be endangered more than they already were… partly in regards to her own actions.

"I will send the message." Padmé said confidently. "To Firebird." She spoke the codename of the Jedi Master as quietly as she would his true name. "He will know what to do, especially in the company of Fulcrum."

Fulcrum, the codename which was used recently to describe The Rebellion's most prominent figure in Intelligence work, Saw Gerrera. Saw, or Fulcrum, was currently leading a mission accompanied by Obi-Wan on Tatooine. Saw was incredibly useful, but he was brash and too quick to act at times. The two of them would be able to protect what the Rebellion held important, but Obi-Wan needed to be the one the message was relayed to in order to remain discreet and keep panic at a minimum among their forces.

"Firebird, this is only a precaution," Padmé began, as Bail stood watch at the door. Mon sat unflinchingly in her chair, her hands rested on either side of the arm rests, still as a statue. The voice changer garbled Padmé's words, lowering the pitch significantly and hiding her gender and identity. "Information may be leaked from the Eagle's Nest. If we are discovered, you are my only hope, and I must once again ask too much of you... " Padme trailed off, causing Bail to frown. Mon's thoughts didn't betray her face, as she remained masked. "However, this is just a precaution. Relay this message to Fulcrum only if you receive the following codeword, Q-U-I G-O-N under our private channel. Cordé out—"

She had been using her fallen handmaiden's name as her codename since the formation of The Rebellion, in her honor. It had been years, but the ache in heart still struck whenever she spoke her deceased friend's namesake.

The three politicians were silent for several moments, mulling over the possibilities of the Emperor's suspicions.

"Mon," Padmé interrupted their silence abruptly, "May I ask your source, the one who you trust enough to believe our identities within the Rebellion are at risk to discovery by the Empire?"

Bail turned to the Rebellion's leader in interest as well, although saying nothing.

"At this time," Mon Mothma spoke slowly, not breaking eye contact with Padmé, "I believe I must keep their identity to myself. Just know that I trust their intentions, and that I have no greater values than those of The Rebellion."

Padmé suppressed her frown at her fellow senator's secrecy, although she supposed that her reaction was hypocrisy at its finest. She was hiding the fact that she and another member of their movement had killed an important political figure that could affect the entirety of their mission.

"Very well," Padmé replied briskly. "I believe we had better scatter, considering we have been cooped up here for nearly a suspicious amount of time." She stood, brushing off her olive green dress and adjusting the white scarf that was currently covering the disturbing bruises left by Darth Vader's chokehold.

"Indeed, it's getting late." Bail stood as well, looking between both women and ignoring the dissatisfaction between them. "We had better get ready for the banquet. I will see you both there. Do you think it best if we share a table or sit apart?" He asked Mon as an afterthought.

"You two sit together. I will sit with the other senators within our ranks to keep morale high."

Bail nodded, "Very well."

Padmé began to turn to follow Bail out of Mon's office, but the older woman called out to her.

"Senator Amidala…"

"Yes, Senator Mothma?" Padmé asked, turning on her heel slowly to meet the eyes of her colleague. "What is it?"

Mon paused, "Is there something… romantic… between you and Firebird?"

Padmé's head snapped around immediately to make sure the door had indeed closed behind Bail's departing form. She was barely able to conceal her surprise, neutralizing her expression before facing Mon again. Mon noticing a significant connection between her and Obi-Wan put her on edge, even if her concern was misplaced.

"Of course not," She said lightly, "We are just old friends, I owe him my life from many years ago, remember?"

"Of course." Mon replied, relaxing her shoulders and returning a light smile. "I simply want the best for you, is all. A brave man he is, but to love a Jedi is dangerous business, and I believe you are already involved in enough dangerous business, my dear Senator."

Padmé chuckled, "I smile in the face of danger, Senator Mothma." She joked back, throwing the woman an easygoing wink.

"That's what I'm afraid of." Mon sighed, ushering her out the door. "Good luck tonight, you'll need to be on your best behavior and on your highest guard."

"Yes, yes." Padmé assured Mon with a slight frown, "I always am, Senator."

"Padmé Amidala Naberrie, I haven't heard from you in over a week!" Sabé stormed into the Senator's penthouse apartment, causing Padmé to jump as she was applying her makeup, leaving a streak of black liquid across her cheek. She turned away from her ancient full length mirror and matching vanity, both treasures from the Palace of Theed, smiling faintly at the sound of her friend's voice.

R2D2 whipped out of the kitchen, beeping maniacally, his weaponry protruding from his chest, a laser pointed at Padmé's beloved handmaiden in alarm.

Obi-Wan had told the droid to protect Padmé, and clearly that was his intention.

"Artoo, no!" Padme exclaimed, placing herself between the droid and her friend immediately. "Sabé is an ally."

As quickly as the weaponry appeared, it vanished back to it's usual hiding place within the droids' intricate mechanics. He beeped wearily at Padmé, who rolled her eyes.

"One of these days, Artoo, you're going to need to learn to trust me."

The little droid seemed to scoff at her. She sighed.

"Don't you have a coffee machine to fix, mister?"

"Yeah, yeah." The droid seemed to grumble in his unique language, and Padmé watched amusedly as he rolled back into the kitchen, keeping a suspicious eye on Sabé.

Padmé turned to her friend, the only handmaiden she had decided to keep on after departing as queen of Naboo. Their similarities in appearance were uncanny, a reason for why Padmé had chosen Sabé to impersonate her in a variety of situations throughout her queenhood. Not to mention her intellect and regality, of course.

The dark haired woman was dressed in long flowing orange robes, cut in a style native to Naboo, her hair wrapped up in a matching turban. Her makeup was simple compared to how it was when they lived in the Palace of Theed. Eyes kind and brown, a similar shade to Padmé's own, stared narrowed at her friend in concern.

"You've lost weight, I can see it in your face." Sabé said accusingly, raising an eyebrow. "And who's the droid? Where in the kriffing hell did you find him?"

Padme snickered in surprise, Sabé rarely ever used foul language. She often scolded Padmé for her own obscene tongue as they were growing up. "A friend gave him to me." She said vaguely, waving away the subject and altering the conversation's direction. "Thank you for coming, my friend."

Sabé sighed, smiling. "It is my job, afterall, isn't it?"

Padmé chuckled cheekily, "Perhaps." Laughing felt like a lot of work for her, as did applying her own makeup.

"Have you been eating?" Sabé accused, as she pulled up a stool across from Padmé's vanity in the living room. "Or sleeping?" she added, motioning to the dark circles under Padmé's eyes.

Padmé sighed, "I'm fine, Sabé, believe me. I've just been working a lot." At one time, Padmé hated to lie. However, it was second nature to her after being involved in politics since she was just a teenager. She could lie easier than she could tell the truth.

"You need a vacation." Sabé declared, motioning for Padmé to hand her the makeup tools she was currently brandishing, a teasing smirk upon her face. "You're quite good at painting your own face, amongst other canvases. I don't know why you need me for this."

Padmé's shoulders relaxed immediately, and she closed her eyes. The heavy lids tempted her to drift into dreamland. "So that I can take a vacation," She murmured whimsically, "I am quite exhausted, as you've pointed out, and I need a cat nap before I attend this dreadful party."

"Ah yes," Sabé got comfortable in the seat across from Padme, settling in to begin her makeup.

"Keep it natural, please." Padmé interjected as she felt the brush touch her cheek.

"You don't want the royal Queen-of-Naboo treatment?" Sabé said jokingly, causing Padmé to huff with humor.

"I'm no longer queen, and therefore don't need to be subjected to that." She replied, stifling a yawn and trying to remain still.

"You'll always be a queen to me, milady." Sabé said respectfully. This once would have warmed Padmé's heart. It was a phrase commonly uttered by her people. She may have deserved it at one time, but she didn't anymore.

Padmé didn't say anything, allowing Sabé to work in silence for several minutes.

"What would you like me to do with your hair, Senator?" Sabé asked her friend, who was walking the line of consciousness, failing to fight a desperate exhaustion.

Behind her closed eyelids she saw Darth Vader as he choked her. She saw Obi-Wan and the malevolent Sith Lord dueling. She wondered how Obi-Wan's mission on Tatooine was going, if he had found Saw Gerrera… If he had gotten her transmission.

"Whatever you would like." Padmé replied shortly. She didn't mean to be sharp with her friend, but her anxiety regarding the night she had ahead of her was bubbling underneath the surface, heightened by her lack of sleep. This could be her last banquet, her last night as a senator. Although, part of her considered her last night as Senator Amidala the somber one where the Republic fell.

Sabé had known Padmé for many years, and therefore knew when to leave her be. It didn't take long for her loyal handmaiden to finish her makeup, and she soon moved on to placing intricate braids in Padme's hair.

"I've managed to cover your eye bags, milady." Sabé said encouragingly, gently pulling Padme's hair into a style of her own choosing. "You look bright eyed and bushy tailed."

Padmé didn't open her eyes. "Thank you, Sabé." She said softly, before adding, "I am very thankful for all that you have done for me, throughout the years. I am lucky to have you as my handmaiden. I am even luckier to have you as my friend."

"Of course, Lady Padmé ." Sabé said, surprise evident in her voice. "You know I would do anything for you."

The idea made Padmé wince. She didn't deserve the loyalty and respect she had worked so hard for anymore. She had been an intelligent and benevolent ruler, improving the lives of many. She had become a hardworking senator who fought for the rights of her planet...and then she had become a murderer. She had tainted her soul by taking another life in cold blood. It wasn't for the purpose of war, or for protecting her planet. It was for protecting herself. Her reputation deserved to be tainted too, she knew it did. However, she would face her reckoning after she saw the end of the Empire. She would redeem herself for killing Clovis, for involving Obi-Wan in her crime, and most of all for her role in the Emperor's rise… and for all of the people that had died because of it.

"May I pick your dress for the night?" Sabé asked brightly, trying to improve Padmé's spirits. "I believe I know the perfect one."

"You may," Padmé said, opening her eyes to view her completed hair and makeup. Two thick, intricate braids wrapped around buns on either side of her head. A thin headpiece composed of many small diamonds wrapped around the top of her hair, a larger tear-shaped diamond dangling down the center of her forehead. Her face looked regal, beautiful, and well-slept.

Sabé disappeared into Padmé's closet as the senator admired her friend's work. She looked much better than she had in days, not having the energy to put as much work into her appearance as usual. At least if she was killed tonight she would look put together.

Sabé returned carrying a pale blue dress made of Naboo's finest silks. It was a gift given to her by her first love, Palo, while she had been queen. "I'll help you get into it." Sabé said, gesturing for Padmé to stand so that she could help her undress out of her work dress. Padmé stood, closing her eyes again, as Sabe untied the olive green fabric that was currently loose around her thinning frame. As she slid out of the number, she heard an audible gasp from behind her.

"Milady, your body—" Sabé exclaimed, gesturing to Padmé in alarm, "What has happened?"

Padmé glanced down in alarm, relaxing when she saw the large yellowing bruises along her thigh and back from being thrown into a metal contraption during her encounter with Darth Vader.

Sabé reached to grab the white scarf that was tied tightly to Padmé's throat, ripping it off her neck before Padmé had the chance to fight her off.

Her typically modest and proper friend swore with vulgarity in Huttese, causing Artoo to whirl out of the kitchen in attack mode. "I knew something was wrong with you—"

"Sabé please—" Padmé shushed her, cursing herself for not remembering that the marks still remained on her body. They had hurt immensely for a few days, but she had quickly learned to live with and hide the pain in order to preserve her image and reduce any amount of suspicion. "It's not what you think."

"Somebody has hurt you, perhaps the same person who killed that other senator!" Sabé said, eyebrows raised, "We need to find this person and prosecute them—"

"I've had an aggressive experience…" Padme interrupted immediately, "With a lover. You mustn't tell anyone Sabé."

Sabe's jaw dropped comically, and she studied Padmé for a moment, silenced.

"Milady?" Sabé said in a hushed tone, covering her mouth, eyes wide.

"It's true," Padmé said, pleased that her lie seemed to be believable. "He is very passionate, and rather—well, rough."

"Who?" Sabé demanded, finally moving to help Padmé get dressed, her eyes still assessing Padmé's gruesome bruising.

"I never took you for a gossip, my dear Sabé." Padmé countered, causing the other woman to scoff as she laced up the blue silk dress. "We've ended things, it no longer matters."

"Well, good." Sabé sighed grudgingly, "Anyone who can damage you so thoroughly during lovemaking isn't husband material. You must be more careful Padmé."

Padmé gasped painfully as Sabé continued to lace the corset of her dress up tighter and tighter.

"And I put you in a dress sewn by Palo Jemabie," Sabe continued with a high laugh, "I never realized what a harlot you are, milady."

Padmé chuckled, turning to look at her friend humorously, continually impressed with her ability to hide the truth. "Oh, shove off." She eyed her reflection in the elegant wooden mirror in front of her. She looked perfect, sparing the bruises around her throat that had been covered for days by various scarfs.

"Sit back down and let me fix your neck." Sabé said, rolling her eyes at Padmé good naturedly. "I can't let my queen go to the ball looking like a savage tart."

AN: An update for all who are still following this story! Thank you for your reviews, they make me so happy. The next chapter will be an intense one, the awaited meeting of Padmé and Vader. I believe the chapter after next will begin the adventure of Obi-Wan on Tatooine, where he runs into some interesting riff raff (fans of the Clone Wars will love that storyline). I have so many ideas for this story y'all. I know I'm a little slow at updating but I'm determined to finish this eventually. I have a long weekend coming up, so I may pop out two chapters this month. Right now my estimate for total chapters is around 25, maybe more, maybe less, so be prepared for a long and crazy ride everyone. Buckle the fuck up.

Side-note: I hope nobody hates me for including a TINY eensy weensy bit of Jar Jar. He won't be largely focused on as a character but he'll probably make a couple small appearances. You guys have said you like how detailed my storyline is and my large inclusion of characters… this one's for you Ahmed Best.

Penny (or review) for your thoughts, everyone? Thank you for reading :3