How to Take an Empire

Chapter Fifty-Three: Her

Back when Ahsoka called herself a Jedi, she spent many days with Padmé. Sometimes at the Senate, when Vader, as disinterested in politics as he was now, pawned her off to Padmé so that Ahsoka could have a more rounded Jedi education. Sometimes as extra security at her apartment when she was hosting political dinners and social gatherings. All the time, as a trusted friend. But she'd still been a Jedi. There was only just so much she'd been comfortable discussing with Padmé, a certain decorum she'd still had to maintain around the woman. There were things she probably would have never gone to the woman to talk about, at least not back then. And Padmé had not only respected those boundaries, but she also understood them.

Breha Organa did not.

Ahsoka knew it was only a matter of time before the woman carved some time out her busy schedule to confront Ahsoka about her mood the last few weeks. That time happened to be early one morning while the woman's husband was at Imperial Center with the Senate being at its busiest in the weeks before Empire Day. One of the handmaidens came to summon Ahsoka to the queen's quarters. Though Ahsoka had been awake already, years of rising early at the Jedi Temple being a habit that she'd never been able to break, she had yet to get dressed for the day. So she threw on a robe over her sleep tank and trousers and made her way to Breha's quarters.

The Queen was sitting up, awake in bed, her almost black hair falling down her back in gentle waves. Spread before her on the massive bed were trays of breakfast. Lots of fruits and grains as was part of the traditional Alderaanian breakfast, but all with meats and proteins for Ahsoka.

Breha looked up from stirring a cup of caff when she heard Ahsoka enter the room, face brightening.

"There you are, my friend," she said and patted the space next to her at the top of the bed. "Come sit. Have breakfast with me."

"As though you're giving me a choice," Ahsoka said. She discarded her robe onto the lounge at the foot of the bed and climbed under the covers next to the woman.

"You're right. I am not," the older woman said with a smile.

Ahsoka shook her head, grabbing a plate and filling it with a few pieces of smoked brisket, sausages, and fruits. Then she asked, "What did I do now?"

"You," Breha said, sucking on a large bright orange berry, "know exactly what you're here for. So are you going to make this easy on me and tell me why you've been in such a quiet, pensive mood lately, or am I going to have to guess and pry it out of you?"

Ahsoka hesitated. "You...probably don't wanna know."

"And why is that?"

"Because it has to do with a certain tall, imposing figure in a dark suit that I associate with. An association you don't agree with. So your opinion would be biased."

"Everyone's opinion on everything is biased. Even our objective ones," Breha pointed out.

"Still. Don't worry about it. I'll sort it out eventually. We always do."

Breha frowned at that. "Ahsoka. Has he been getting violent with you again? I thought you said he didn't do that anymore. You said he hasn't been cruel to you in years. Do you and the children need to be hidden from him?"

"See? Biased," Ahsoka deadpanned.

"I'm sorry," Breha said. Ahsoka could tell she really wasn't. "But every time I've known you to be in a mood about that man, it was because he'd just gotten finished tossing you around like a rag doll in a fight."

"That's only happened twice, and tossing me around like a rag doll is a gross exaggeration."

"I won't mention all the times he's threatened you with physical violence then."