Chapter One: Bliss and Mourning

On the eve of his only daughter's wedding, Count Edelar of Kurin hosted a celebration fit for an empress. It was the fourth night of festivities in anticipation of the blessed event, and the count had spared no expense. The guest list was made up of the most important families on Kurin, several neighboring diplomats, and a number of mid-level and high-ranking Imperial officials. Count Edelar was told that of the three moffs invited, two had been able to attend.

The guests weren't the only special part of the evening. Edelar had managed to reserve the planet's most revered opera house for the night's entertainment – to his daughter's great delight. After the performance at the opera, the party had moved to the home of Edelar's uncle. It was a large estate set amidst rolling meadows and within walking distance of the grandest waterfall in the district. Strand after strand of twinkling blue and white lights decorated the mansion and the open-air pavilion which served as the center of the celebration. Edelar and his family had received no end of compliments over the arrangements.

All in all, the party was a spectacular success.

Edelar mingled with his guests, making his way toward his daughter and her fiancé. Resplendent in a voluminous, sky blue gown, his dear Taviana was all smiles as she waved her father over.

"Oh, Papa, you simply must meet our new friends!"

Edelar looked past his daughter at Rorim, her husband-to-be. Rorim was conversing with a striking couple that the count did not immediately recognize. Strange, considering how diligently he had studied the guest list and accompanying holos. Both the man and his wife had red hair, the man's a few shades darker than the woman's. Here on Kurin, where the majority of the population had dark hair and eyes, red hair was considered good luck. Edelar wasn't sure how that old superstition had developed, but there were many people who would consider it fortuitous that Taviana had become friends with two redheads the day before her wedding.

Taviana pulled Edelar toward their guests. "Papa, may I introduce Captain Laradis and his wife, Anélie."

The red-haired captain and his wife turned their heads in unison, and they graced Edelar with polite smiles. Laradis bowed at the waist. "It's an honor, Your Grace." He had a rough edge to his voice that reminded Edelar of the accents one might encounter on the fringes of civilized space. Despite that quirk, his manner was very sophisticated. "And may I just say," the captain continued, "you could not have picked a more beautiful location for the party."

Edelar glanced sideways at Taviana and smiled warmly. "It was actually my daughter's idea, but I thank you. It did turn out quite lovely."

The captain's wife – a short, slender woman in a lavish, violet evening gown – placed a hand on her husband's forearm. "We're so happy that you thought to invite us, Count." Unlike her husband, she had a soft, graceful tone that suggested she'd been born and raised among the elite. She turned to Laradis. "Darling, it is getting late. We really should be going."

Laradis nodded and smiled at Edelar. "I don't know where I'd be without my Anélie to guide me." The captain turned to Taviana and Rorim. "It was a pleasure meeting you both. We'll see you at the ceremony tomorrow."

Taviana reached out and clasped Anélie's hands in hers. "Thank you so much for coming!"

The captain's wife curtsied. "My lady."

Together, Laradis and Anélie excused themselves and disappeared into the crowd of dancing guests.

Rorim, who had been silent throughout the exchange, wrapped an arm around Taviana and leaned toward Edelar. "A charming couple. How do you know them, Count?"

The count shook his head. "I don't. They must be some of my uncle's Imperial connections." He shrugged and smiled. "Well, I'm off to mingle some more. Enjoy the rest of the party, children."

Count Edelar and his family and friends spent the next ten minutes convinced that it was the best party they'd ever been to.

.

.

Captain Laradis and his wife were not supposed to be in the private quarters set aside for the soon-to-be husband of Taviana Edelar. One of the servants had tried to explain this to them; he was now unconscious in the guest wing and would probably wake the next morning thinking that the whiskey bottle in his right hand had put him there.

Out on Rorim's balcony, the captain was attaching a long, thick cable to the stone ledge. When he finished with that, he returned to the groom's inner quarters, where his wife was busy typing away at the room's sole computer console. Laradis leaned over her shoulder and stared at the bright screen, watching streams of information scroll down in large blocks while a tiny red progress bar inched from left to right at the bottom. After a moment, a command request popped up in the middle of the screen.

Anélie paused for a moment before rapidly pressing a series of keys and sending a command out across the HoloNet. She leaned back in her chair, the fabric of her dress rustling with each motion.

"I hate to do it to her," she said.

The captain looked over his shoulder at the open balcony doors. "The silent alarm's been tripped. We've got a minute, maybe two."

The woman – who was not Anélie Laradis, nor the wife of the man standing behind her – stood from her chair and gathered the skirt of her dress in her hands. The captain – who was not really a captain – frowned.

"Why not ditch the dress?"

His "wife" swept past him and looked over the edge of the balcony before glancing back at him impatiently. "I like it," she replied.

"You think you can rappel down the side of the house in that monstrosity?"

This time her gaze was more than a little condescending.

"Okay, okay, I was only asking."

The woman turned her eyes skyward and muttered a few words before swinging both legs and the whole dress over the side of the ledge. Within a few seconds she was repelling down the east wall of the mansion.

The man shook his head. "Stubborn." He followed after her.

They reached the ground just before the guards appeared, and they had time to slip through the hedge that lined the east side of the estate. While the guards examined the cable hanging from the balcony, the fake Laradis and his fake wife made their way to a small shuttle sitting beyond the edge of the property. The man pulled a remote from his jacket pocket and opened the ship's hatch.

"Anélie" let out a sigh as she boarded the ship. She finally ditched the extravagant purple dress, revealing a sleeveless black bodysuit that stopped at her knees. As she pulled several ornate pins out of her hair and shook it loose, her "husband" slid a bag toward her, one filled with her personal effects: black boots, loose gray coveralls, and a hold-out blaster and sleeve holster that could not be effectively hidden while she was wearing the evening gown. She pulled the coveralls up to her hips and paused a moment to sweep her long hair into a simple and far less painful updo. The man beside her smirked.

"Well, Mara Jade. We did it again."

She cocked one eyebrow at him as she pulled on a boot. "Why do you always sound so surprised?"

"Because I am. I kept waiting for you to give us away."

She chucked the other boot at his head; he ducked and raised his hands in mock surrender.

"How about that little stunt you pulled at the governor's mansion two nights ago?" she said. "You almost tipped Rorim off right out the door." Mara picked up the gown and gently tucked it into her bag. She would have to clean it properly when she got back.

Aidan Rennal pulled a ration bar from his bag and began to munch on it. "Oh, please. He didn't have a clue."

"Sounds like someone else I know."

"Mara, Mara…" Aidan waved the ration bar in the air. "It's no wonder this marriage didn't work out."

Mara Jade rolled her eyes and brushed past him to enter the cockpit. "I wouldn't marry you if you were the last man in the galaxy."

"Why do you always try to hurt me?" he called after her.

She grinned over her shoulder as the engine fired. "Because you make it so easy."

The ship entered hyperspace just as a squad of Imperial stormtroopers arrived to take the traitor Rorim away from his wedding and his bride.

.

.

"You're sure?"

"Absolutely, Your Highness. The prince is coming in his place."

Queen Kylantha glanced sideways at Pooja. "It seems you are off the hook, Senator. Although I would be grateful if you attended the meeting anyway."

Pooja couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief at the news that Lord Vader would not be attending the conference after all. She didn't know much about Prince Shade – and who really did, for that matter? – but she didn't think he could be any worse than the Dark Lord of the Sith.

"I would be glad to, my lady," she said.

The queen turned back to her captain of security, a young but solidly-built man called Ronasa. "How long?"

"They should be touching down within the next few minutes, Highness."

Kylantha rose from her throne, and her handmaidens moved to flank her. She waved Pooja over. "We should have just enough time to welcome the Imperial delegation before the ceremony begins."

Pooja pressed her tongue against the back of her teeth. She smiled politely and fell into step slightly behind the queen. Kylantha's ministers and Captain Ronasa joined them as they left the throne room.

By the time they reached the secluded landing pad, there was a Lambda-class shuttle parked in the middle of it. Two stormtroopers stood at the foot of the open ramp, blasters raised to chest level. Pooja employed every calming technique she could think of to keep her face from reflecting the anger that had suddenly surfaced. The queen's entourage came to a halt, and Pooja saw movement at the top of the ramp.

The Imperial Prince was not a particularly fearsome sight, but he did command respect. Pooja watched as he descended the ramp; the elite stormtroopers that formed his personal guard moved swiftly to either side of the hatch and stood motionless as he walked by. As he stopped in front of the queen, Pooja couldn't help wondering why he no longer kept his face hidden in public, as he had done for so many years. Prince Shade and Princess Ember had always been something of a mystery. With the assassination of the princess three years ago, only Darth Vader stood between Shade and the Emperor's throne. Pooja wondered how he felt about that.

Despite his solemn expression, he was actually rather handsome, with dark blond hair, clear blue eyes and a boyish face. She almost missed the slender, silver cylinder hanging at his hip. The prince took Queen Kylantha's hand in his and kissed it gently. Pooja quirked an eyebrow in surprise.

"Welcome to Naboo, Your Highness," Kylantha said with a small curtsy.

Shade didn't exactly smile in return, but he did seem appreciative of the queen's gesture. "You have a beautiful planet, Majesty." Pooja was surprised by how soft his voice was. Not at all like most of the Imperials she had known.

Of course, that didn't necessarily make him any less dangerous.

The prince took Kylantha on his arm as the rest of the Imperial delegation emerged from the shuttle. "I regret that Lord Vader is unable to meet you in person. The Emperor requested that I come in his place."

The queen and the prince began to walk, and the Naboo and Imperial representatives fell into step behind them.

"I do hope nothing has happened to Lord Vader," Kylantha said in a tone that would have fooled Pooja, were she not so familiar with the queen.

Another not-quite smile. "Not to worry, my lady. He is merely engaged elsewhere."

Kylantha smiled. "I am relieved to hear it."

The two delegations entered the palace and proceeded down a high-ceilinged corridor held up by massive, marble pillars. Pooja caught the prince glancing at the ornate carvings around the base of each pillar and the woodwork that framed a long row of tall windows. His face was impassive as the queen began to give him some of the details of the memorial.

"Are you familiar with our Emperor's homeworld?" Kylantha asked.

Prince Shade's eyes wandered once more, this time to the twin doors at the end of the corridor. They were open, revealing a grand library with shelves that nearly reached the vaulted ceiling.

"I'm embarrassed to admit that I know very little about Naboo," he finally answered, turning to face her. "Perhaps you could tell me about the memorial you are holding today?"

Kylantha smiled politely. "Of course. Every year since her death, we have honored the life of Queen Amidala, the woman who saved our planet from the oppression of the Trade Federation and helped unify the sentient races. She ruled for eight years before stepping down voluntarily and being appointed Senator of the Chommell sector."

"She must have been an extraordinary woman."

As the conversation between the queen and the prince carried on, Pooja allowed her thoughts to drift. She'd been in the palace many times over the last several years, but she'd rarely had time to absorb her surroundings. The simple yet elegant design of the arches, the careful masonry, the love that had gone into each wood carving and painting. She found that it was much easier to notice these things now that she was no longer a member of the Imperial Senate.

Now that there was no Imperial Senate to be a member of.

"Senator Mirana is her niece."

At the sound of her name, Pooja snapped her head back toward the queen. Kylantha smiled and continued. "She will also be participating in the ceremony."

The prince stopped and looked over his shoulder at Pooja. She nodded stiffly and tried to smile, but she was fairly certain she failed in that attempt.

"I remember you from the Senate," the prince said softly. Odd, how he seemed to be staring through her rather than at her. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you face to face."

Pooja bowed her head. "The pleasure is mine, Your Highness. I am honored to have you attend my aunt's memorial."

Kylantha, who was still on the prince's arm, steered him forward. She gave Pooja a fleeting look of something resembling apology. "You know," she said, "Amidala was queen here when our Emperor was still a senator. After he became Supreme Chancellor of the Republic, she remained one of his trusted advisors." Kylantha looked away for a moment, staring out the window. "Although I'm not sure she would have approved of the military buildup following her death. She constantly pushed for peace."

Pooja felt her throat constrict. As if any of the Imperial delegation gave a damn about what her aunt had stood for. They were here to make a show of power, to remind the people where the loyalties ought to be and try once again to force change on the government of Naboo. Pooja knew Kylantha was supposed to put on a show for them, but she really wished the queen would just tell them off and be done with it.

The prince looked thoughtful. "How long since she died?"

"Twenty-two years."

"The day after the formation of the Empire?" Shade sounded a bit surprised.

"She actually died the same day, but her body was returned to us afterward. The Emperor passed a resolution calling for a day of mourning, and Queen Apailana thought it best make the permanent memorial date fall after Empire Day."

The prince's face was still unreadable. "I see," he murmured. "I am sorry for your people's loss. However, I do believe Naboo is in quite capable hands."

"You are too kind, my lord."

The prince nodded. "Forgive me, I don't wish to make you late for the ceremony."

"Not at all." Kylantha gestured with one hand, and Captain Ronasa appeared at her side. "Captain, would you have one of your men escort the prince and his companions to the seats we set aside for them?"

Captain Ronasa eyed the Imperial delegation for a second before bowing swiftly. "Right away, my lady."

As Pooja watched the Imperials head down a separate hallway, two of the queen's handmaidens began to fasten a veil to Kylantha's feathered headdress. The members of the Royal Advisory Council stood off to one side; most of the councilors were quiet, but Pooja caught hints of discontent in a couple pairs of eyes.

"It's time," Kylantha said. She motioned for Pooja to join her and her handmaidens as they left the councilors and made their way to the plaza.

Pooja snuck one last glance over her shoulder at the prince before he disappeared completely from sight.

.

.

The Imperial Prince watched the parade from a balcony reserved for his delegation, hands folded neatly in his lap. Despite the Emperor's warning, he sensed no treachery here, nor anything more than restrained hostility from some of the members of Queen Kylantha's court. Nevertheless, he wore his lightsaber on his hip, its silver hilt contrasting sharply with his expensive black uniform. He'd taken to wearing the weapon openly since his return to Imperial Center; it was a change that the Emperor did not approve of, perhaps because it damaged the perception that Prince Shade shared no real connection to Lord Vader other than their loyalty to Palpatine himself. And yet the old man had done nothing to prevent him displaying the lightsaber, so he continued to do so.

Below him, the crowd began to murmur as Queen Kylantha appeared at the head of a casket, surrounded by five handmaidens in muted blue and silver gowns. The queen herself was still wearing her black dress, but now a short veil fell over her eyes, leaving only the lower half of her painted face exposed. She carried a single white candle in her hands.

The casket did not hold a body, but was instead filled with delicate, white flowers. They were sad-looking flowers, he thought, and then mentally chided himself for such an obvious idea. Of course they were sad. They were the flowers of funerals, as Kylantha has explained earlier. And this was in many ways more like a funeral than the memorial he'd thought it would be.

These people truly love their queens.

It was a surprising revelation for someone whose father – the second most powerful individual in the galaxy – was almost universally feared and hated.

The procession reached the grand staircase that connected the main boulevard to the Theed Royal Palace, and Kylantha alone climbed the steps to join the surviving family of Padmé Amidala, Naboo's fallen warrior queen.

It was at this point that Sorn Tradyiss, the queen's Imperial liaison, leaned toward the Prince of the Empire and attempted to explain the ritual they were witnessing.

"The flower petals in the casket will have come from the same bushes that were used for the original funeral. The handmaidens of the queen are the only ones allowed to cut them, though whether the job was done by the current handmaidens or the ones who served Amidala, I can only guess."

Tradyiss shifted in his seat and watched the proceedings for a moment before continuing. "Now each member of the family will place a candle in the casket to let her know, wherever she is, that they have not forgotten her. Their candles must be lit by the queen's first." Tradyiss smirked and raised an eyebrow. "The Naboo are very strict when it comes to their traditions. They wouldn't even investigate who impregnated the queen because they didn't feel it would be proper."

Prince Luke Shade Naberrie frowned as he watched Kylantha light several white candles one by one.

"Why should there have been such an investigation?" he murmured.

"Well, I don't believe it was widely known that she was pregnant. As far as I know, she was never married. It would have been quite a scandal had she not died before she could give birth."

Luke nodded slowly, still watching the dead queen's family in the plaza. There was an elderly couple, presumably Amidala's parents. Next to them stood a middle-aged couple, and at the end of the line was Senator Mirana.

Tradyiss must have taken his silence as encouragement to continue. "The older man and woman are Amidala's parents, Ruwee and Jobal Naberrie. The others are her sister, Sola, and brother-in-law, Darred. And you already met Senator Mirana, Sola Naberrie's daughter."

Luke had to withhold a surprised gasp as he stared in disbelief at the people who shared his last name.

He knew it might not mean anything. There might be dozens of Naberries on Naboo, maybe hundreds. There could be even more than that spread throughout the galaxy. Just because they had his name, it didn't mean he shared any blood with them or with the queen who had died twenty-two years ago.

On the day I was born.

Luke's hands tingled, and he realized he was squeezing them together far too tightly. He forced himself to separate them and listened as the memorial continued.

Pooja Mirana – Pooja Naberrie Mirana – placed her candle among the flowers and touched two fingers to her lips and forehead. She lingered for a moment, and Luke saw another person standing in her place, a young girl whose head barely cleared the side of the casket. She stared at the woman lying there, stared in particular at her swollen stomach. Luke blinked his eyes; Senator Mirana was a woman again, and the casket held only candles and flower petals.

Luke shivered, even though the air was warm and there was hardly a breeze to speak of.

He needed to get off this world as soon as possible.

Tradyiss leaned back in his seat and shook his head. "This is the fourth time I have attended this memorial. It's sad, really. They're so mired in the past."

Luke glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. "And you believe it's our job to propel them into the future?"

Naboo's Imperial liaison was visibly stunned by his prince's question. "Well," he stammered, eyes flitting to the lightsaber on Luke's belt. "Well… yes, Your Highness. Isn't that why you're here?"

Luke was aware that the eyes of the delegation were on him, that they were wondering what had gotten into him.

If they only knew.

"Yes," he answered, and even in his own ears his voice sounded far away. "Yes, that is why we are here."

In the plaza below, the Naberrie family backed away from the casket and fell into step behind Queen Kylantha. A cold silence fell over the crowd as the procession continued into the palace.

.

.

If it had been any other day, he might have gone. But he had made a silent promise twenty-two years ago that he would die before he set foot on Naboo the day after Empire Day, and he intended to keep that promise. Nothing the Emperor did could make him break it.

Besides, he had more pressing matters to attend to, ones that didn't involve pushing the Empire's educational agenda on a world that hadn't mattered in over twenty years.

Darth Vader stared out into space, following the trail of the probe that had just been launched from the belly of his ship. He had to admit, he was impressed with the sheer size and power of Executor, a Super Star Destroyer and the new flagship of the Imperial Navy. He couldn't quite explain why he felt differently toward Executor than he had toward the Death Star. He thought it had something to do with purpose, with the reason the two vessels had been built. The Death Star had been a manifestation of all the Emperor's grand ambitions, a symbol of his unrelenting hold on the galaxy. The Executor… well, it was more than that. For Vader, it was freedom, a means of getting away from Imperial Center and all the squabbling moffs and drooling sycophants. Executor was sleek and fierce and determined. It wasn't a bully. It was an enforcer.

Vader ran a hand over his jaw as the lights from the probe disappeared against the black. Executor might have enough firepower to level entire cities from orbit, but there were certain jobs it couldn't do. It couldn't peer into the dark corners of the galaxy and expose the Rebellion's latest secret base.

It couldn't find Darth Vader's daughter.

Right now, Star Destroyers across the galaxy were launching probe droids of their own, sending them to the remotest of systems. One of them would discover the Rebel base. One of them would find Leia. It was only a matter of time.

"My lord?"

Vader turned his head to find one of his captains, a man called Piett, standing behind him. The captain swallowed hard before proceeding.

"My lord, the Emperor commands you to make contact with him."

The Dark Lord of the Sith dismissed the man with a wave and glanced once more at the stars.

Yes, only a matter of time.

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