The Fate of Angels

1. What Becomes of the Broken-Hearted?

"Only the broken-hearted know the truth about love."

- Mason Cooley

Padmé

"Name, identification code?"

 "Padmé Amidala" Skywalker. It's funny how the words we leave unsaid are the most important of all and as I prattle off a bunch of meaningless numbers that only serve to identify my allegiance to the Rebel's Alliance, I begin to ruminate on the past as I always do when I have moments to myself. I don't know why I never add in the last part of my name, after all, the code that forbid Anakin Skywalker and I's marriage has long been dissolved. Perhaps I'm so used to keeping it a secret that I can't imagine voicing it aloud, to a curt stranger no less. Perhaps I'd like to preserve his legacy as the Hero with No Fear, the young man who's life was cut short in the final days of the Galactic Republic, a hero who's last breath was spent trying to preserve democracy. Maybe I'm afraid that finally announcing my marriage to the deceased Jedi Knight would corrupt his legacy although with all the chaos going on in the galaxy, it probably would go unnoticed.  Somehow even after we lose the very ground that we stand on, we move on. For me, moving on looks like living in the secluded grasslands of Alderaan and helping the Rebel's Alliance from afar. 

The man reviewing several of the financial reports that I'd taking time to draw up lets out an irate sigh and gathers up before bidding a quick farewell, leaving the smalll abode that I call home.

 Five years ago everything changed. Five years ago, I, Padmé Naberrie Amidala Skywalker was unmade.

I lost my job. 

 I lost friends.

 I lost my husband. 

 The galaxy lost a hero. 

 The grief and pain is still there but it manifests itself in other ways although these days I hardly have time to brood as I care for the two beings that matter most. Today is a happy day for twins Luke and Leia who celebrate their fifth birthday. The aftermath of Mustafar would have been unbearable without having the twins to care for, in some ways, they are only thing that keeps me anchored to this life. For a moment 

 A small hand yanking on the tip of my sleeve drags me mercifully away from my thoughts that have begun to creep towards the aftermath of Mustafar.  Leia giggles up at me as she thrusts out a hand full of wildflowers. "Mama we picked these for you, Luke said you don't like flowers, but I told him that you do" She explained innocently, smirking at her twin who is watching from afar unabashed.

"I did not say that" 

"Did too" 

"Did not". 

 I let them argue for several seconds as I study them discreetly, resisting the urge to gather them up in my arms and hold them close, to keep the gnawing thoughts of grief away. Of course, they'd protest that they didn't need to be held anymore, at five years old they were 'big kids'.  I like to think that Leia looks like myself with long brown hair and brown eyes although I can see Shmi Skywalker in the way that she thinks and in her smile. Luke is the spitting image of Anakin and sometimes it's a comfort, while other times it's painful. He, like his father, is always the first to volunteer to explore a new area for a fort of his and Leia's creation or in the way his blue eyes light up whenever he gets excited. 

 Luke lets out a groan of annoyance and rolls his light sky blue eyes, casting a childly disdainful look at his sister before traipsing into the living room where he plops onto the ground. Leia picks the flowers back up and sets them on the counter before twirling after her brother, nearly tripping over his legs in the process. 

 Somehow, just by reading Leia's inquisitive gaze, I have a feeling that she is about to carry on the birthday tradition that started ever since the twins learned how to talk.

 "Mama can you tell us about father?"

Vader

"What is thy bidding my master?" Master. That word has long grown stale. I vowed the moments I stepped off of Tatooine that I would never be a slave again, that I would never serve a tyrant like Gardulla the Hutt again but yet here I am, serving an emperor even though it's under the guise of being his powerful second-in-command.

"Lord Vader, you have executed your missions quite effectively. However, Tarkin has pointed out that you've been remiss in tracking the most minutiae transmission signals from the Rebels" Palpatine chided as he studied my black appearance almost mockingly.

 I loathe him for making me what I am, a black automaton that breathes and heaves and struggles for breath with every step. This bulky suit is hardly a life but soon, I will no longer need it. Soon, Palpatine will regret ever messing with me. Although I doubt killing the Emperor will ever balance out the terrible crimes I've committed. The slaughter of innocent Jedi and younglings although that is not the worst part. The worst detail of my crimes, the part that I have to live with everyday, the thing I regret with each struggling breath I take is raising my hand to choke the breath out of Padmé's lungs. I killed her. I tried to save her but I killed my angel and our precious child. Even if I eliminate Palpatine, I will still be Vader, Anakin Skywalker died the minute he accused his wife of betrayal. 

The worst part is seeing her face everywhere that I go, in my thoughts, in mirrors, windows and sometimes when I'm visiting a system, I hear her laughter in the breeze and her soft whispers in the rustle of leaves. I see her brown gaze full of pain and hurt and her voice crying out for mercy, beseeching me to go away with her and raise our child.

 "I have a list of systems that I need you to personally visit and eliminate any rebel sympathizers" Palpatine continues, handing over a piece of paper with several system names scrawled down. Essowyn, Alderaan and Naboo. The last name is the hardest to process and it takes several seconds to tear my gaze away from the paper. He thinks it's a game, he wants to see a reaction but I will not give him one.

 "It will be done my master, I will send you reports as I go along" I reply calmly, waiting for his hand to wave his dismissal. 

 I immediately take my leave, black cloak flying wildly behind as I storm through the corridor. The Emperor thinks he owns me, he still believes that he knows each and every secret of mine but I have one that he won't learn until it's too late.

And soon, he'll pay for his treachery.

A/N: This story is going to starting picking up it's pace very quickly x3 so yeah, let me know what y'all think!