𝐀𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎

𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

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    HER EYES STAY GLUED TO THE SCREEN ON THE HOLOGRAPHIC TV AS THE NEWS BROADCASTS A LIVE FEED. Astrid felt as if her whole body had frozen and her heart had been ripped from her chest. A suffocating feeling of grief wraps around her, trapping her in her mind as it spins in a tornado-like whirlwind of thoughts. Her fingers trembled as she pressed the button that increased the volume of the TV.

    This couldn't be happening, she thought as the headline repeats over and over again, laughing and taunting her. Her throat felt swollen and her eyes burned with a supernatural amount of rage and breach of trust. She had opened herself back up to him, for both herself and Maya, yet he might have broken whatever they had built in the few days she was there already.

    "Local investigators have pinned the bombing of Apollo's palace on a radical group of rebels that had haunted the area for years," the news reporter informs falsely. Astrid felt heat flare up in her chest at the statement. It wasn't the rebels, she knew it wasn't because Ahsoka led the rebellion and Apollo was a known provider for them. It was someone else, and the only logical explanation was the Empire.

    "The whereabouts of the Queen and the Princess are unknown. Sources say that the Princess hasn't been in the palace in years, however, the Queen was seen this morning heading to the military headquarters. She had yet to be seen," he continues monotonously.

    "No, no, no," Astrid whispers, her heart aching as she processes the words. In a matter of seconds, her feet lead her to the large steel door that prevented her from leaving Vader's room. Oddly enough, since Vader trusted Maya not to escape, the little girl had access to the rest of the Mustafar palace—including the playroom where she was right now with Piett, a trusted friend of Vader, while Astrid was stuck in his room. Her fist pounds on the metal, a dull ache forming as she does, but she doesn't stop, not when she needs to get Vader to come to her.