Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Now I want my letters white again,

my name unknown, my grace resealed;

that I may unfold myself on the quadrant of days,

leading life back to midnight

Christina Campo

〰 〰 〰 〰 〰

The war ended at the cusp of summer. It was a slow, torturous process; the initial declaration penetrated every inch of the known galaxy in the span of a few days yet lost its momentum just as quickly. For once, the problem was not the complacency of the residents. Rather, it was the wealth of information coming out that proved to be too much for the war-weary citizens of the Republic. 

Even with her sister in the Senate, Sola had to admit that she was majorly out of the loop. Ryoo and Pooja were finishing their semesters at the Theed Academy and she herself was preoccupied with the new memorial project the Queen had commissioned her for. The Palpatine conspiracy had essentially wiped out a great deal of Naboo’s upper management, which made Sola’s progress a living nightmare. In the brief time she had to spare, she comforted herself with the belief that Padmé was equally busy on Coruscant so her sisterly negligence probably went unnoticed and unresented.

It was hardly anything new regardless. 

The war might have hardly touched Naboo itself, but its influence was heavily felt in the Naberrie family. Because of Padmé; Padmé who was a voice on the Loyalist Committee. Padmé who was doing a thankless, fruitless job which seemed to gradually consume every inch of her waking day. Like some kind of rising sickness, it took over her passions, her hobbies and ultimately brought her further and further from her home and those who loved her.

Padmé who, ultimately, wasn’t there.

Sola had grown used to not sharing her admittedly mundane troubles with her overburdened sister. And in turn, Padmé never spoke of her own problems when they did manage to catch up.

 Their chats were always pleasant and full of love, a perfect imitation of closeness they shared in simpler times. Padmé would speak of her handmaidens and ask after her nieces. Sola would mention family gossip and ask her if she’s planning on visiting anytime soon. To this, Padmé would then cite being busy or bad weather or something important coming up in the Senate, which required her presence. She’d be genuine with her remorse and Sola would be equally genuine when she reassured her that really, it’s no trouble, they’re both adults and obligations come first. We’ll see each other sooner or later, she would say, even as one year somehow stretched into four. What Padmé needed from her family was support, not for them to hold her back.

And though she was aware of the growing distance between them, Sola would not realize how much of a stranger her sister had become until she received a rather literal wakeup call.

Bleary eyed, she struggled with her comm station and came face to face with a blue-tinted, frazzled image of her mother.

“Have you been in contact with Padmé?” She demanded, uncharacteristically brisk. Jobal Naberrie was a disciplined woman; her elegant face resisted contortions of any kind and very rarely did she raise her voice.

And even rarer was the occasion when Padmé was the source of that.

Sola forced herself fully awake, brushing her hair out of her face on instinct, even though she knew her mother would not care. A quick check at the chrono station beside her bed confirmed that it was a few hours before dawn.

“Not recently. Last I heard, she was busy helping with the trial.” Sola omitted how upset Padmé seemed. As if her whole world had crumbled inwards overnight and she was stranded there, trying to make sense of the ruins. If Palpatine’s death had shaken her this badly, then Sola would not judge her, nor would she share that observation. As part of the Naboo Delegation, Padmé hardly needed more condemnation. 

“That was… about a month ago, I presume? And nothing since?” Jobal demanded.

“I’ve been busy.” Sola defended, growing confused, “Mom, did something happen? What’s going on?” When her mother simply pressed her lips together in a thin, dangerous line, a brand new kind of fear bloomed in her heart. “Did something happen to Padmé?”

A thousand scenarios flashed through her mind, each more dreadful than the last. And to think that all this time, Sola had been bemoaning her job, not paying attention to what was happening on Coruscant.

I am a horrible sister. 

“Padmé is well. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Jobal rushed to reassure, eyes softening, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have taken that tone. I just wanted to know if you were in on this.”

“In on what?” 

This scenario, she was vaguely familiar with. Even as a little girl, Padmé had been a whirlwind. Always up to something, lost entirely to her own vision for the world around her. And when she set her mind on something, everyone had better got out of her way. The adults would always wring their hands and turn to Sola, looking for an explanation for what sparked their youngest’s current project. 

Somehow, they’d always be surprised when Sola revealed she was not in on whatever Padmé was up to. She loved Padmé and Padmé loved her, but they’d never been confidantes. They each had other people for that.

Whatever mischief she’d been imagining didn’t come close to the story that came from her mother’s hologram. Jobal delivered the information in a way that didn’t let you recover from one thing before she was already dropping another on you. And in true Padmé fashion, the stakes kept getting higher. Padmé was secretly married – no, Padmé was secretly married to a Jedi – no, Padmé was secretly married to the Jedi who killed the Chancellor . The very same one who recently narrowly avoided a public execution; and the whole time the Palpatine investigation was going on, Padmé was pregnant and aware that she would be losing her seat when the truth came out. 

“Padmé had a baby?” Was the first thing her brain managed to process.

“Twins!” Jobal exclaimed, as if Padmé had done it to spite her personally. 

“Perhaps we shouldn’t be so surprised,” Sola attempted to rationalize, “you know that she always wanted a family. And you know she loves a good adventure.”

“An adventure is one thing, though I wish she wouldn’t. But to risk her job? And moreover, to keep it hidden from her own family? Sola, I simply don’t know what to think. Should I be concerned? I would never expect this from her.” 

Sola furrowed her brows and ran a hand down her face. As much as she wished she could somehow contradict that statement, her sister’s thought process was a mystery to her. Certainly, Padmé was impulsive at times, but she usually had good judgment. Padmé, just what were you thinking?

“What does Dad say?” She asked eventually, at loss at what else to say. 

Evidently, this annoyed her mother further. 

“ Please, you know what your father is like. He’s already drawing up plans for how he’ll refurnish one of the study rooms before Padmé gets here. I predict he will be out shopping by sunrise.”

Despite herself, Sola smiled. That did sound like her father.

Then her mind caught up with the rest of it.

“Wait, Padmé is coming here? To stay?” In her own private mind, Sola had already resigned that she would not see her sister until the Republic got itself in order. However long that took; her reason wanted to say forever , no matted how opposed she was to fatalism. Some things just could not be fixed.

Jobal clicked her tongue.

“Did you not listen? I told you she’s lost her seat in the Senate. Of course she’ll come home.” She said it as if there was never any doubt about this. “I must have a housewarming gift for her by tomorrow. I think some clothes and diapers for the twins would be best, one can never get enough of that. And they’ll probably want to look for some affordable real estate in Theed, somewhere near a nice school possibly. I know you’re busy but would you…”

“Of course, I’ll check what’s on the market,” Sola did not need to think about it much, “I’ll bring the girls too, when she gets here, so they can meet their cousins. They only have a week left in their semester, Did Padmé say when they’re bound to arrive? Or what are her plans once she gets here?”

By the time her mother ended her call, the sun was beginning to rise in the sky. Half an hour more and the girls would have to wake up and get ready for their day. Sola knew she wouldn’t be getting any more sleep; she dragged herself from the bed, brewed herself a cup of kaff and pulled out a datapad. With a frown, she closed tabs she had open from last night – Coruscanti buildings, Clone art and historical war memorials – and opened a new one.

It was prime time to catch up and find out everything that Senator Amidala had been up to.

〰 〰 〰 〰 〰 

Padmé arrived a few days later at Theed’s private spaceport in the fresh, cool light of early morning. Sola had expected the place to be swarmed with dignitaries like it was during her other visits but the spaceport was deserted. In the end, the Naberries were the only ones waiting for her this time, clustered together in the morning chill and brimming with anticipation.

Perhaps this was supposed to be a show of disgrace, but Sola really couldn’t care less. 

Especially not once she saw how tired Padmé looked – like she hadn’t had a proper sleep in ages. And with the Republic ripping itself at the seams and newborn twins, she probably truly hadn’t. It was hard not to feel sympathy for her.

Taking notice of this, her family did not dwindle long on pleasantries. Sola and Jobal took over the twins; Padmé momentarily looked both guilty and relieved at that, but said nothing. There was a wariness to her and her Jedi husband both, hinting at things the rest of them could not understand. 

It made things somewhat awkward. Sola had expected the reserved politeness from Skywalker – he was, essentially, a stranger to them – but from Padmé it was unusual. It would be simple to explain it all away with exhaustion. Simple, but erroneous, like simple things tended to be. It tugged at her heart. 

When she was a child, Sola loved puzzles, particularly the 4D ones displaying famous buildings from civilizations all over the galaxy. It was probably what inspired her interest in architecture, but most of all, she liked the feeling of putting two pieces together. Every last piece had a place, somewhere where it belonged. When it anchored itself against its neighbors, you could physically feel the finality of it. 

This was what seeing Padmé again reminded her of.

The puzzle pieces – but not quite fitting. The edges didn’t square up properly and instead of that instant click, the two pieces would just glide against each other, trying to find that opening. 

Something had changed. With Padmé or perhaps with them all. The thought weighed sadly on her for a moment and then she let it go. 

This was no time for sadness. The war had ended; the darkness had lost. A new life was being born, right here and now, in the ashes of the old one. And like a newborn tooka, it might be still blind and stumbling, not quite knowing what it is and not seeing its own endless potential. It had a meek, fearful beginning but Sola had faith.

No life of Padmé’s would ever remain meek and fearful. 

All this young family needed was a little time and a little bravery.

〰 〰 〰 〰 〰 

Settling in took some time. 

Padmé and her family were situated in her parents’ home and while Sola visited when she could, she ultimately had to return to her own home and her daughters. 

Her designs waited for her there – still incomplete and uninspired, lacking that final touch. The more she hovered over them, long awake while Ryoo and Pooja slept in their beds, the more she was beginning to feel like it was not the lack of artistic vision that haunted her but the lack of understanding. Similar, in truth, to the feeling you’d get when you woke up during a long speeder drive. That moment of disorientation, when the landscape outside looked so familiar yet you would not be able to say where you were. In other words; the kind of understanding that lags behind, blocked because it is not yet the right time.

As an artist, Sola believed that creation required heart and a spark – you cannot create until your creation exists fully-formed in your mind. It’s a matter of fate, of waiting for the right train of thought to come at the right time.

As a businesswoman, however, she knew she was working on a deadline. And said deadline was slowly and yet persistently getting closer.

Somewhat similarly, Padmé was having a rough time too. She had not said as much with her words but Sola paid enough attention during her visits to notice. 

The birth had taken a toll on her, physically. She was lethargic and got out of breath from the simplest things. And if that wasn’t enough, the twins, like clockwork, cried every afternoon without any real cause – for hours on end and with no regard for their poor parents.

“We’ve tried everything,” Padmé confessed to her one day when their parents were out and her husband was looking after the infants, “but apparently this just sometimes happens. There’s no real medical reason for it. The experts have some speculations about what causes colic babies but no real treatment. You mostly just have to wait it out and it can take months . Honestly, I’m ashamed to admit it but before we decided to come to Naboo, I was this close to asking Anakin if he can use one of those Jedi mindtricks and get them to sleep. I felt like I was losing my mind.”

“Nobody can blame you. Motherhood is hard, even in the best of conditions, and the most terrifying part is that it’s never hard in the ways that you prepared yourself for.” This had been a lesson she’d learned the hard way, “If you’d take a piece of advice from me though, you must never allow yourself to start questioning if you’re doing something wrong. An insecure parent causes even more problems in the long run.”

“I know,” she sighed, “Thank you, for this. For everything really. You’ve all been so much help, I don’t know how I would have managed on my own. I feel so silly but… nothing is going the way I imagined. In my mind, being here on Naboo… it was supposed to be a happy ending.”

She looked at Sola pleadingly, her large brown eyes catching the sunlight. Shadows pooled under them and around her cheeks. There were more shadows on her face than usual – she’d lost weight. 

“It’s alright Padmé. That’s what family is for.” Sola took her hand in her own, the way she had when they were girls going to play on the beach, “But while we’re alone, why don’t you tell me how you’re feeling? Your job, the Republic… I know it meant the world to you.”

‘Meant the world ’ was putting it lightly. Her mission was to Padmé what sunlight was to plants. From an early age it defined the shape in which she’d grow – each trial and tribulation she suffered along the way had left an impact on her. And to be here now, so defined by a lifepath she was forced to abandon must be daunting.

Sola could not imagine. But she would like to hear Padmé speak about it, if only to offer her a release.

Sometimes, the puzzle pieces needed a little push: a proper angle and just the right amount of force. And then they fit.

“Truthfully? I don’t know how I feel about it. I keep watching the news and memorizing information I think might be useful and then it hits me that it’s actually pointless. And I feel so nervous about the elections because I know there’s nothing I can do about it. A good Chancellor is absolutely crucial right now but… it’s out of my hands.” She made a motion with her other hand, as if she were giving a speech. The words flew from her hesitantly at first, and then with confidence. She wasn’t done.

“But then I remember… It’s my fault Palpatine got so far, partly. And - and I never saw it coming. I could not tell the corruption from the opportunism, even when the Senate was rotting before my eyes. So in some ways… In some ways I’m glad to be done. Or I’d spend every day, reading into every conversation and worrying about manipulation I’m not noticing. Even in those last days, I saw him in every shadow. I could hardly be objective. And I could hardly live like that either.”

“I understand,” Sola nodded, though she wasn’t sure she did, “Though I would like to argue that it was not your fault he was corrupt. Powerful men are good at what they do and from what I know, you were more suspicious of him than most. You shouldn’t bear the burden of his crimes, when you didn’t help him commit them.”

“Perhaps,” Padmé allowed but she did not sound convinced, “though it was not enough. But one way or another, it’s out of my hands now. Just for now, I should focus on things still in my power. Luke, Leia, Anakin… and there’s so much to be done too. We will have to find a place to stay, and at least one of us will have to get a job. I know Mom is upset with me too. She’s not saying anything but…”

“It’s rather the fact that she’s not saying anything that’s giving her away, I think.”

That drew a small smile from Padmé.

“I would like to mend things,” she nodded at Sola’s hand which was linked with her own, “there’s a lot I would like to explain but it feels like I can’t catch the right moment. I know she’s going to ask questions but I don’t think I have the right answers yet.”

Now, doesn’t this problem sound familiar? Sola mused and then an idea struck her like a pear to the face.

It would be absolutely perfect . For Padmé, for the girls, for herself…

“How about this, the girls start their summer holidays next week, so we can get Mom and Dad and all go to Varykino together?”

“Sola…”

“Think about it. I’d wager we could all use a little break. A few weeks, with just the family. Forget the outside world, the war, the Republic. Let them kriff themselves if they must.” She leaned in conspiratorially, “I bet whatever you have to think through will come easier there. Come on, you love the Lake Country. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t rather be there right now.”

“I literally just unpacked,” Padmé sighed heavily.

“Is this your way of saying yes, little sister?”

This earned her a gentle push, but Padmé’s eyes seemed brighter. Privately, Sola thought the fresh air would help her get her physical strength back too. She was wary of broaching the subject with Padmé – from experience, her sister never liked to be perceived as fragile.

“Ask Mom and Dad first. They have to agree as well.” She threatened, as if she expected Sola to plan things half-heartedly. “And don’t forget I’m married now. It’s only fair that I speak to Anakin about this as well.”

“Do you think he will disagree?” Their parents would be on board, that much she was certain of. Sola could not get a read on Skywalker though; so far, the man had mostly stayed out of sight. He’d stalk around the apartment like a sad, man-shaped raincloud, fussing over Padmé or the twins and yet he’d rarely show up for dinner – and when he did join them, he was mostly silent and avoided eye contact as if it might burn him.

Truthfully, Sola was somewhat intrigued.

She’d seen him in holos before; there was hardly a being in the Republic who hadn’t. He was young, cocky and handsome enough to justify the attention but more than that, Sola thought that he’d had a certain ferocity to him that drew people in, similar to the gravity pull of a star. She wasn’t sure it was a good thing – after all, stars were burning, violent forces of nature best loved from a distance – but the public adored him because he seemed utterly untouchable. By enemy fire, by fears, by the strife of war: nothing seemed to get him down. He gave them hope.

The people of the Republic believed in Anakin Skywalker. How could they not?

Now she couldn’t help but wonder where that intensity had gone. Without it, he seemed… empty, somehow. Hollow. Like there was a gaping space where something was supposed to be. 

The scars from his time as a war hero were certainly still there. Sola had noted the ones on his face and his missing arm; leftovers from violent conflicts. On holos, he wore them like the crown of victory.

But now that the fighting was over, it all just seemed rather sad and meaningless. She saw no pride in him.

Was it simply his public image that was deceitful? Sola didn’t think he was the type to care about that.

Padmé had, at some point, mentioned a career-ending injury that had split him from the Jedi but from her hesitance, Sola couldn’t help but speculate if this career-ending injury was truly of physical nature or perhaps simply an euphemism, of sort, for his benefit. His murder of the late Chancellor was another one of those things that they were all aware of, yet nobody dared to ask after. And then his imprisonment and the trial – how could she possibly ask a stranger about that?

So she didn’t ask. Hoping that eventually the two of them will start sharing things on their own. In the end, both of them had their own lives and would manage them as they saw fit – and right now, she had to accept that they saw fit to manage them with the sorrowful resignation of young people convinced that their lives were over.

But quietly, Sola wondered what had happened to that brave young man she’d seen on the news. It’d haunt her, a little, if she never found out.

They do say that a house is defined not by its walls, but the hollow space in-between, she mused. Perhaps similarly, a hero of the Republic would be better understood through his terror – not the things he overcame, but what he could not. 

“I doubt he’ll mind,” Padmé smiled as if she had an inside joke, “We have some good memories there.”

“I am happy for you but somewhat afraid to ask.”

It took a moment but when she caught her meaning, her sister’s pale cheeks coloured and she pushed her away again, this time more firmly.

“Force, not like that. Well, I mean, maybe a bit like that. But it wasn’t what I was talking about. We got married there.”

“Of course you did.” Sola rolled her eyes. Honestly, what else could she expect from Padmé? That she’d be satisfied with her secret marriage happening at some unremarkable location? “Then it’s decided. Let me work my magic and I promise you you’ll get to enjoy a second honeymoon soon.”

As much as a mother of two colicky, screaming infants could enjoy anything anyway.

〰 〰 〰 〰 〰 

Jobal and Ruwee Naberrie could both be stubborn people. A well-meaning auntie might even describe them as ‘ a pair of workaholics ’, something neither of them found worth objecting to. Their single-minded drive was important to them – and when it came to that, they did not negotiate. 

Many would suppose that this willpower made them immune to persuasion.

Sola knew differently.

More than work, more than anything, Jobal and Ruwee loved their family. When presented with an opportunity – and despite possible grievances, this is how they viewed her idea – to retreat to Varykino and reconnect with their daughter, they didn’t think twice.

“As long as Padmé is on board, of course.” 

Sola smiled wryly. 

“I don’t think you need to worry much about that, Mom. She’s all in.”

Padmé believed her mother was upset with her. Sola didn’t really try to convince her otherwise, believing that this conversation should take place between the two of them alone. Privately, though, she noted that if Padmé was seeing anger in Jobal’s demeanor, it was probably a projection of her own guilt. A troubled mind could play tricks. Even one as brilliant as Padmé’s.

If anything, Sola would say Jobal was simply a bit vexed and unsure. 

One needed to look no further than how quickly she jumped into action. Even before Padmé had arrived, Jobal had made sure that her grandson and granddaughter had all the equipment. She bought clothes and nappies and binkies, remodeled Padmé’s old study, repainted the walls and even nearly purchased a nanny droid before Sola reminded her that Padmé already had her golden protocol droid, they hardly needed more.

And from the moment they arrived, it was clear Luke and Leia were adored by their grandparents.

Leia was, to their delight, a splitting image of her mother at that age. It had them reminiscing and much to Padmé’s annoyance and Sola’s mirth, many baby stories were traded. Even Sola herself was not immune – whenever she saw her father cooing at the baby, playfully counting her tiny fingers with an old nursery rhyme, she couldn’t help but be transported back in time to that breezy Naboo autumn. How sweet it had been, when the world seemed peaceful and unshakable and little Padmé Amidala was still just Padmé Naberrie.

A tiny baby with a big future. Perhaps little Leia truly was her mother’s child. 

And Luke was the first boy in the family since Ruwee himself. Ryoo and Pooja were enamored by him – while his sister was passionate in her evening fits and would grow red as a ripened berry, Luke stayed cherubic even at his loudest. It made him no easier to handle, of course, but it did make him the star of every holo his grandparents took to send to the extended family. Something he would undoubtedly grow to detest in his older years.

Unexpected though they were, the two of them quickly became the tiny bright lights in this twilight. 

It was her hope that the twins would grow up never knowing the awkwardness of this transition period. That they’ll be living in the happy ending their parents dreamt for them and not still stuck somewhere in the messy path to get there.

Sola’s daughters would probably remember the war for their whole lives. She pondered on that sometimes. What it meant for them, in the long run. 

At least to Padmé’s children, it’ll all be history.

No matter how involved their parents once were, for Luke and Leia, the Clone War will be reduced to memorials and anecdotes.

Perhaps Padmé could not see that picture yet, from where she stood, but Sola could. She saw it every time she interacted with the twins. It was all a matter of helping her along the way. 

They had a whole summer to spend on this – and then, more than that, they had a lifetime. 

〰 〰 〰 〰 〰 

Varykino was the same as always. Beautiful, remote and green.

Even somewhat greener than usual. This was due to the simple reason that during the war, nobody really visited it. Sola had not realized that until now – there was no spoken agreement, but somehow every member of the Naberrie family had simultaneously decided not to go to the vacation home until Padmé returned.

As a result, everything was a little bit dusty. Once per month, an upkeeper would be sent to make some rounds and check on the water pumps, but evidently the man had not trimmed the gardens or done anything in terms of cleaning. The lush green vines had seen the opportunity and crawled over the balconies, even blocking the doors in some cases.

This was also when Sola found herself grateful for Padmé’s murder husband.

The flower invasion had also brought them an infestation of bugs and other small critters. She was not a squeamish woman by any means but in no universe could she match Anakin’s nonchalance as he scooped up a nest of slug-beetles with his bare hands. Nor was she brave – or reckless – enough to take on a bee hive. 

Or catch a Thunian wart-hornet that by all means should not even be found on Naboo – and yet somehow one specimen happened to be found in Ryoo’s room.

Sola had been in the process of unpacking in her own, now slug-beetle-free spaces when she heard the girls yelling for her.

“ Mooom ! There’s a bug on Ryoo’s curtains and it’s giant and hideous !” Pooja intercepted her in the hallway. The poor thing was in tears – Sola smothered a sigh. If bugs scared her this badly then they were about to have a few very difficult days ahead. “ Make it go away! ”

“Alright, alright. Let me take a look.”

And then she did.

And she screamed.

Giant was an understatement. She’d been expecting a slug-beetle or something like that; but whatever this thing was, it was three times the size of a slug-beetle. And worse still – after a moment, the bug took off and started flying madly around the room. Without wasting a beat, she grabbed Ryoo by the arm and pushed her out before slamming the door behind them.

Her heart hammered. Even with the thick wood between them, she could still hear the buzzing. It wasn’t just loud – it was positively demonic .

Force, how am I going to get this thing out?

“What happened? Is everyone alright?”

Her salvation appeared in the form of Padmé and Anakin; the former breathless from the stairs and somehow holding a blaster and the latter with a kitchen knife. They seemed to have armed themselves and deserted their children in record time.

“There-” Sola cleared her throat and smoothed her skirt. Poise, she reminded herself. Poise was important. If the girls saw her be scared, they’d never calm down – though it might have been a little too late for that now. “-There’s a bug in the room, I’m afraid. I didn’t recognize the species.” 

“It’s this big and it’s flying everywhere because Mom scared it!” Pooja wept, utterly betrayed by her mother’s failure to save the day, “What if there’s more of them? There’s probably more of them! I want to go home!”

“It might be venomous!” Ryoo jumped in. “It had these - these glowing thingies! Bugs that glow are always venomous!”

“I’m sure it’s not venomous.” Padmé comforted, “We don’t have venomous insects on Naboo. Let us take a look.”

She reached for the doorknob.

“- No !” Sola pushed her hand away. “It’s buzzing around right now, just listen. Let’s wait until it settles down because if it gets out, we’ll have to burn the whole house down.”

Padmé narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

“Since when are you scared of bugs?”

“What? Hold up, let’s make this clear, I’m not scared of bugs! I used to take care of them for you , remember? But that thing is - is -” Sola waved with her hand, “ very large. Around the size of my hand. At that point it’s not a bug anymore, it’s a Zillo beast cub. I know my limits.”

“Actually, it’s a Thunian wart-hornet.” Anakin was poking head through the suddenly open door – when he’d opened it, Sola didn’t know but she could skin him right now. She didn’t care what the abomination was called. “I haven’t seen one of those in ages.”

“What are you doing ? You’re going to let it escape!”

He paid no attention to her.

“Don’t worry,” he told the girls, “I’ll take care of it. They usually attack in swarms so if there’s just one here, that probably means it’s also the only one in the house. I wasn’t aware they lived on Naboo though.”

“They don’t. It probably came with some shipment of Thunian berries. They relaxed the regulation for food supply when there were shortages during the war. I warned the Queen that the legislation was more important than it seems… Though this wasn’t quite the invasive species I had in mind.” Padmé wore a frown that tended to come out when politics were involved. “Be careful, Ani, they’re venomous.”

Anakin mutely flexed his gloved hand – a prosthetic, Sola had learned a while ago, when he pulled a roast nuna from the oven and chose to omit using mittens. Apparently, a metal arm had many benefits. He passed the knife to his wife who took it without paying it much notice. 

“They do have a venomous tongue, but as long as there’s no skin contact it should be fine.” He agreed, unconcerned. Worse, Sola thought he looked somewhat excited about this. It should inspire confidence but it did the opposite.

“Well, then I suppose you’re dressed for it. Go ahead.” Padmé was quick to get on board. Sola self-consciously rubbed her own bare arms. Summers on Naboo were warm; she didn’t really understand how Anakin didn’t cook in his long sleeves – she assumed those were for some religious Jedi reasons because she had never seen a Jedi that didn’t layer up like they were on a trip to Hoth – but right now she felt horribly exposed.

“And close the door when you get in, please !”

“But what if it licks you in the face and you die ? And then it’ll get out and we’ll never find it!” Ryoo blurted out from the end of the hallway. She and her sister had at some point backed off as far away as they dared to without abandoning the relative safety of their mother.

“The toxin isn’t deadly, if my memory is correct.” Padmé reassured. 

“Your memory is flawless. It just causes pain and swelling.” Her husband called from inside the room. The door - thankfully closed - muffled his voice but didn’t hide his surprised “ Huh .”

“ What is it ?” 

“ ...I can’t find it. ”

The effect this had on the girls was if he had just informed them the world was ending. In theory she understood that it was the fear of bugs unaccounted for that scared them more than the bug itself but a fat load of good that would do her at bedtime. 

Sola was at her wits end.

“It’s a giant bug , what do you mean you can’t find it? ”

“It probably just hid somewhere.” Padmé said loudly, for Anakin’s benefit.

“Not to worry. I can sense it, it’s behind the dresser. I’m just going to have to move some furniture. Hold on.”

That was the last commentary he elected to provide. For the next few minutes, the tension in the hallway grew – first when there were sounds of heavy objects being dragged and then even more when they stopped and there was silence. At some point Sola tentatively knocked to no response.

“...Jedi can’t die, can they?” Ryoo asked her aunt after a bit, having found courage to inch closer. “What if it actually got him in the face?”

Padmé thought about it.

“It’s hardly the biggest bug Anakin has taken down. He was on Geonosis.”

The door opened with a slam.

“Even worse,” Anakin displayed his catch victoriously, having pinched it by the wings with his prosthetic hand, “I was on Tatooine. Behold.”

The girls scattered and Sola herself could not smother a flinch. The wart-hornet was massive , with glowing, pulsating warts the size of Sola’s fingernails. It was making an odd screeching sound that only intensified when Anakin poked it with his other hand. Despite being firmly held in place, it tried its best to bite him.

This didn’t seem to phase Anakin at all but Sola was certain to have nightmares.

“Vicious little creature, aren’t you?” He cleared his throat meaningfully and eyed the girls at the end of the hallway, “I’ll - uhh - I’ll go take care of it. Outside.”

Only when he - and the bug - were gone did Sola dare to breathe.

“Would it be terrible if I had him check the whole villa? I don’t want to use a war veteran for pest control but I would like to find some little present in my bedroom even less.”

Padmé laughed but she looked a little bit relieved too. Her grip on her blaster loosened – despite her proclamations of faith, for the whole duration of the wait she had looked just about ready to burst in and provide reinforcements. The fact she hadn’t implied a few things about her own feelings regarding that wart-hornet.

“Go ahead. I think he enjoys it, anyway. He’s been missing stimulation lately.”

If his time on the frontlines left Anakin with some sort of brain dysfunction which happened to mirror prey drive which then in turn caused him to see bug extermination as a fun activity, Sola wasn’t going to judge him for it. He did take down that bee hive very skillfully. Ruwee was impressed. 

However…

“You know, “ she eyed her sister, reflecting on the pride with which her brother-in-law displayed his victim and the way he had poked it for his amusement, “I’m not complaining but I’m beginning to think you’ve essentially married a barn tooka.”

Chapter Text

It was a testament to how quickly time blurs one’s memory that Sola had managed to forget just how hot and humid nights at Varykino could get – or perhaps that was simply the work of the two children taking shelter in her bed, mumbling some nonsense about bugs even as they slept. Needless to say, her first night at the villa was restless.

The exhaustion demanded its due – both from the lack of sleep and from all the travelling and unpacking she’d done the previous day. Consequently, she ended up oversleeping. By a lot.

It was already past noon when she and the girls finally stumbled into the kitchen in search of breakfast. By that point, the food her mother always prepared in the morning was already gone so Sola resigned herself to cereal. The girls mercifully did not seem to mind.

“Can we go see the shaaks now?” Pooja began to pester immediately after she finished her bowl. There were traces of milk still in the corners of her mouth – Sola found that adorable but her annoyance did not budge.

“Now? Have some patience, little one. I have things to take care of first. Let’s say we go after lunch.”

Of all the things for Pooja to remember from her last trip to Varykino, it had to be the shaaks. Sola liked the beach. She could sit for hours watching the colours of the sky spill across the surface of the lake. She also liked taking walks and admiring the scenery; the sunlit meadows with their tall grass and the forests with their shade. It was the artist in her that let her see the wonder in serenity.

Strong emphasis here being on serenity.

What she did not like were the animals. Any animals but especially not shaaks. Once upon a time, a younger Padmé had teased her for it, suggesting with a sly tone that Sola was, among other things, a ‘spoiled city girl’ who could not ‘bear to get her hands dirty’ – and perhaps she was not entirely wrong with that unflattering depiction but Sola would like to see Padmé interact with shaaks after being chased by one. It was a traumatic experience.

“You said after breakfast yesterday.” Ryoo levelled her with an even stare and spread her hands across the table diplomatically. Pooja, who had been getting ready to argue, looked at her older sister with heartfelt gratitude.

“That was when I thought breakfast would be at seven. Not… whatever the time is right now.” Sola fixed her best ‘don’t try it’ expression.

“That’s – you’re just making it up now. You never mentioned breakfast would be at seven!”

“Yeah, I thought it was important to keep your promises!”

The girls were giving her twin looks of outrage. So much about being on their best behaviour in the company of their grandparents and aunt.

“And I thought you two were big enough to sleep in your own beds and yet, here we are. We will be here for three whole weeks and I promise the shaaks won’t go anywhere.”

This did not placate them but it did quell their protests – at least the audible ones. Their sullen expressions were telling a different story. Ridiculous, Sola thought to herself with no small amount of fondness.

She did not lie when she said she had things to take care of first. Mainly, she needed to make a few calls regarding the location of her project – somewhere in the old city centre of Theed, because Naboo was too accountable in the war to bury the acknowledgements out of sight and out of mind and what use was a statement that nobody would see? – but while she was at it, she intended to take a look at the housing market for Padmé. She hadn’t managed to speak with her sister about the specifics yet, but with the twins in mind, surely they will want somewhere close to an Academy. Perhaps close to Sola’s own neighbourhood…

Yet in the end she got to do none of that.

Having finished with the dishes and sent her daughters on their merry way, she rounded the corner and immediately bumped into her mother.

“Oh, Sola, perfect!” Jobal was wearing the frilly long skirt that had seen better days and which she only used when she was unwilling to sacrifice any her other clothes to a potentially dirty activity; that, along with the dirt caking her fingers, the sweat ruining her foundation and a twig in her hair gave Sola a perfectly good idea of what was happening.

She resigned to her fate.

“How can I help you?”

“I’m removing those thrice damned yuliflower shrubs that got everywhere. But well, it’s very hot outside and I could use a break… You know your father has a bad back so he’s no use to me with this…”

Her face was ridiculously earnest; a perfect mirror to how Ryoo and Pooja looked talking about shaaks. Sola shook her head with a barely audible huff. This was simply not her morning, it seemed. Her work could wait, she supposed; she was officially on vacation.

“Let me get changed. I like this dress far too much to get dirt on it.” Not to mention that doing yardwork in a dress would be just plain silly. She paused. “Also, you have something in your hair.”

She returned as quickly as she could, wearing a pair of old shorts that after two children did not quite fit as perfectly as they once had and the loosest, baggiest shirt she could find in her closet. Her mother gave the combination a disapproving look but chose not to comment.

“Thank you so much for helping me out. This won’t take too long, it’s just the northern garden left. I have Anakin taking care of the eastern one and we finished the other two in the morning.” Jobal laid a hand above Sola’s elbow and started guiding her towards the yard, “and I’ll bring you some lemonade later. I only need you to get rid of the shrubs – oh, and maybe some of the vines too, if you feel like it – the rest I’ll handle myself. Actually, I don’t really care what you do, as long as the shrubs are out and you don’t touch the roses.”

Sola thought her mother must truly think highly of her if she believed she would do additional work of her own volition. It’d be yuliflowers and nothing else from her.

“Got it, no touching the roses. And I see I am not the only unfortunate soul you have accosted into doing your bidding today. What does Padmé have to say about that?”

“Accosted?” her mother repeated, eyebrows going up, “Please. I accosted no one, it’s volunteer service. Your sister and my husband are in the living room arguing about the latest senate session. On budget issues, no less. A truly unfortunate soul would be stuck in there with them.”

That was a point gladly taken.

“What do they even have to argue about? Neither of them is holding any office right now. They might as well start watching sports.”

She expected Jobal to smile along with her; instead, the woman looked solemn.

“These are unprecedented, difficult times, Sola. In our circumstances, staying caught up to date on the Senate is perhaps a very wise thing to do. Yes, very wise indeed.”

This was not something Sola cared to entertain.

“The war is over.”

Her mother did not seem convinced.

“This is the popular opinion right now, yes. But I wonder… If the war was simply a symptom of a deeper cause, like they say, what is being done to fix that now?”

“Unless Chancellor Palpatine somehow crawls from his grave, I should hope that the cause is over too. Don’t let Dad get to you with his pessimism, things are better than they were a few months ago. Budget problems aside.” If nothing else, Padmé was now home and safe. This alone had Sola optimistic about the future.

Let the Senate have its struggles; it has been struggling for as long as any of them remembered but the Republic always somehow managed to limp to the finish line.

Jobal gave no reply to that, shaking her head and then forcing a smile.

“We shall see, I suppose.” Then she changed the topic. “Speaking of your father, he wants to take the girls fishing one of these days. Apparently they have been pestering him.”

Sola sighed. Shaaks, fishing, what else were they going to think of? “Someday soon they’ll have to learn that they can’t get everything they want. They’ll grow up spoiled if this goes on.”

“Surely not from one fishing trip?” There was an amused silence, then her mother continued. “You should indulge your children, while they’re still young.”

“Ah, very true. And then once they grow up, you send them off to toil away in your gardens. The circle of life.”

“Hush, you.”

Sola had been teasing but as it turned out, toiling away was the correct description of the work. The yuliflower shrubs were far more numerous than she’d expected, and thorny on top of that. It took a lot of careful, precise clipping to trim the branches enough to get to the center. And then it was a whole lot of work to dig the shrub out, roots and all.

After only an hour, she was sweaty, dirty and her arms were scratched to heavens. Every inch of her body was ready to be done with this; from the dull ache in her arms, she could tell she’d be sore tomorrow as it was.

“Let me help with that.”

Anakin’s voice coming from somewhere behind her shoulder nearly made her jump out of her skin. He’d blended in so well with the sound of crickets in the overgrown grass that she hadn’t heard him approach.

“Oh, kriff. Hi.”

He stared down at her in a way that made her feel suddenly self conscious.

It was not intentional, she understood, and probably not something he was aware of. He just had a presence in the same way ancient monuments had a presence – it fed into some instinctual sense that had her feeling small by comparison. He was a tall, dark shape in that humid Naboo afternoon sun, flickering slightly in the heat like a bad holo transmission but completely unafflicted by every single discomfort that plagued Sola.

“You finished your side already?” Sola leaned back on her heels and wiped her hands on her shirt. “It’s fine. I’m about halfway and I can’t really ask you to do my work on top of yours.”

“You’re not asking. Mrs. Naberrie did.”

“...She really wants these shrubs out as soon as possible, huh?” She made a face. Her mother was an intense woman, prone to impulsivity – but her family understood that her word was not the law. It was somewhat embarrassing to only now start wondering how this came across to Anakin. “You really don’t have to always listen to her, you know. She can come off as a bit overbearing but she doesn't actually want to order people around. So really, feel free to take a break.”

He nodded his acknowledgement but didn’t leave.

“I don’t mind.” Something like amusement settled in the corners of his mouth then, softening the angles of his face and gifting him a boyish look, “Besides, it’ll go quicker. Step back a bit, I’ll show you.”

Admittedly curious, Sola rose to her feet – and her traitorous spine cracked as she did.

“Ugh, I’ll be feeling this one tomorrow.” Noticing the odd look Anakin gave her, she added a quick: “You’ll see when you get to my age.” Which might take a while; Sola realized she had no idea how old he even was. Somewhere in his twenties, probably…? She should discreetly ask Padmé later.

“You’re not that old.” He paused. “...are you?”

“Very flattering but I’m certainly old enough for back pain. It happens sooner than you’d expect, so beware.”

Their conversation died there. Sola watched him raise one arm, as if he were reaching for something invisible and intangible to most people – but not to him. There was a moment of stillness where she could feel some kind of energy in the air, like clouds in a thunderstorm pressing downwards with the weight of oncoming action. The leaves on the shrub rustled without wind. She could guess what would happen next. His hand made a slight jerky movement and with a crack, every single branch snapped and froze, weightless. Another slight movement displaced the greenery to the side, exposing the stump and the bare ground beneath.

“Very impressive.” Sola mused, carelessly dropping her clippers on the ground. It looked like she would not be needing them. “I definitely see why you finished your side so quickly. Who knew Jedi training could be this handy with garden work, huh?”

“Certainly not the Jedi. The Masters would certainly suffer a community-wide conniption if they knew someone’s using the Force for something as banal as gardening.” Anakin summoned a shovel and held it out for her. “I’ll cut them, you dig?”

“Sure,” Sola agreed, knowing full well that digging in this weather was going to be torture.

And it was exactly that.

Naboo wasn’t a terribly hot planet but it was humid; and in summers, that humidity made you sticky with sweat and feeling like you’d boil in your own skin. It was hard to breathe, let alone move. At the day’s peak, a suffocating stillness crept as far as eye could see. Not even the birds could be found anywhere at that time. The only constant sounds in the yard was the buzzing of uncountable little bugs that were crawling under leaves and stalks of grass, unbothered.

Eventually even that stopped feeling like real noise. Sola could swear it was her own head that was buzzing. Each heartbeat pulsed in her ears like a charge.

She managed to dig out the roots of exactly one shrub in the time it took Anakin to get his share of work done – and then he immediately shooed her off and took over her part as well. Sola had protested out of guilty conscience but she was far too hot to put up much of a fight.

It was a problem exclusive to her though. Anakin very much made it look as if the two of them weren’t sharing the same solar system, let alone the same weather.

“How are you not melting? Just looking at you is making me want to die.”

He thought about it for a few moments while pausing to take a breath.

“The place where I grew up was much warmer than this. You could say I’m used to it.”

“Huh,” Sola bit her tongue. There was a hesitance to the way he spoke that made her feel like any additional questions would be unwelcome; even if perhaps not outright denied. Still, she silently noted how he refused to remove any of his many layers of monochrome robes even once the heat visibly started getting to him.

The most he did, Sola observed, was nervously loosen his high collar every time he took a moment’s pause. It was all a bit peculiar and she didn’t know what to make of it. Perhaps it was a Jedi thing…?

After a bit she couldn’t help herself any longer though.

“Are you sure you’re good? We can switch, I’ve cooled down.”

“No, it’s fine. You don’t have to stick around for my sake.”

One thing Sola had learned about her brother-in-law, in spite of his distance – metaphorical and physical most of the time – was that he had a stubborn streak to him and just enough hints of a temper that she felt uneasy about pushing him. She had a solid hunch that Anakin Skywalker did not lose many arguments.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ve been told they’re arguing about politics inside, I’m not going anywhere. The air conditioning is not worth it.”

There was a beat of silence. Anakin pushed the hair off his forehead with his flesh hand.

“You’re not a fan?”

Sola couldn’t help but laugh at how he asked it. It was an innocent question but he sounded so surprised.

“Sorry, sorry. It just doesn’t interest me, to be honest. Politics are kind of a family thing and I certainly understand why the matters are all very important but it’s not for me. I like to think of myself as an artist.”

“That had to be difficult.”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing.” He backtracked, fixing his collar again. “It’s… it’s not just politics, though, is it? The reason you’re not joining them, I mean. It made Padmé truly happy to come back to Naboo but a lot has changed for her. She had many secrets and I don’t think I can properly understand what that means. I want her to be happy, though. I feel… responsible.”

He was evidently more observant than Sola had given him the credit for. Though he was picking his words very carefully, he’d spotted the negative space that lingered around them; the weight of conversations that weren’t happening, hastily buried under the unimportant little exchanges that they did still share.

“They just need to figure out where they stand, that’s all. They’ll spend some time together and realize that things haven’t really changed as much as they fear they have. It was admittedly a bit of a shock to have everything dropped on us at once. It’s a lot to react to.”

Anakin seemed to consider that and didn’t say anything for a bit. Sola watched him rip the roots from the ground with his Jedi magic and toss them aside with the same carelessness a child would rip out a fistful of grass.

It must be confusing to him, she realized.

If Padmé truly kept everything so separated, how much context did Anakin even have for understanding the current tension?

“Nobody’s actually mad at her, you know. Mom and Dad always encouraged us to have our own lives which is exactly what Padmé did. They just… struggle to conceptualize how her independence might exclude them. And I mean, deliberately exclude them. She never really brought any of her old flings home but she didn’t exactly lie to keep us unaware of them either. So it’s not that they disapprove of her choices, or of you, it’s just the secrecy that feels alienating and hurtful.”

“...I understand.” A shadow crossed his face. “So when you say they’re arguing about politics, you don’t mean…”

His awkward concern made her laugh again, earning her a sour look. Sola was not quite sure what to make of Anakin; but the longer the conversation went on, the more he reminded her of her daughters.

A strange contradiction, for certain. There was something about him that seemed older than she could perceive; but at the same time, he seemed like half a child still.

“Heavens, no! It’s not serious arguing, I promise. They always do that. Padmé just gets very heated and Dad likes to be contrarian just for the sake of encouraging a debate. He’s generally a very laid-back person though; it’s Mom who’s intense. You… might have noticed that already. She’s a bit of a slave driver.”

Anakin gave her a long, judgemental look.

“Padmé’s intense.” He stated in the elevated tone of someone discussing philosophy for the lack of anything actually smart to say. “I can see where she gets it from, though. She talks about her childhood sometimes but it was always difficult to envision it.”

So perhaps Padmé did talk to him about her family after all. Sola had to curb her habit of judging too quickly.

“Really? I suppose it would be hard to picture Padmé as a child if you didn’t know her then. She’s always been surprising people that way. Older than her years, by some assertions.”

“It’s not that. I mean, yes, but we met when she was fourteen and even then she seemed all the way grown up to me. Like she had everything under control.” His voice came alive with an animated sort of awe, “It was more about how… perfect it all seemed. Her life, childhood, Naboo, everything. I couldn’t picture it. I never truly knew if it was really that good or if it just sounded that way because of how much she loved it. But it’s fitting for someone like her to come from somewhere perfect.”

That’s when Sola caught on. Romance and relationships were never really her forte, given that she had no interest in either – but she could spot the raw emotion, even as Anakin continued to work on the garden, unaware or uncaring of how much he’d given away.

It was not, simply, that he loved Padmé. He idolized her.

Somehow that explained some things and at the same time raised a new question for every single thing it explained.

This kind of devotion didn’t come into existence quietly. Especially not, Sola suspected, with someone like Anakin. He didn’t seem to be very fond of people. Oh, nobody could accuse him of being impolite, that was for certain but there was an unbridgeable distance warning them to stay far away. He was, for the lack of other terms, wary and distrustful even if he tried to put on a pleasant front and Sola would never think him to be the type to put his whole being in the hands of another person so lightly.

It certainly was an extreme way to view a fellow person – but if Padmé’s murder husband decided that his wife was the epitome of perfection, Sola wasn’t going to be correcting him on it.

〰 〰 〰 〰 〰

Eventually, when Sola truly could take no more of the heat – and once it turned out that after finishing with the yuliflowers, Anakin was simply going to move on and start getting rid of the vines next because he was insane – she retreated into the cool confines of the villa. Inside, she found her mother preparing lunch with Ryoo’s help, the twins sleeping under Threepio’s watch and Padmé and her father somehow still arguing about that Senate session.

“-This just confirms what I said earlier, though. Senator Organa is making a risky move and I’m not sure he can afford to lose the support right now. You’ve said that yourself, so you must see the truth of it. The Vice Chair will never agree with his proposal and the Banking Clans demand-”

“-I think the Republic might fall in the time it takes for you two to finish this discussion, at this rate.” Sola announced her presence by interrupting her father’s speech.

For that, she received two looks of annoyance of vastly different intensity.

“This is a serious topic. Just because you don’t have the taste for it, doesn’t mean you can mock it.” Padmé somehow managed to look down on her, while being vertically inconvenienced and also sitting down.

“You are welcome to join the conversation though.” Ruwee added quickly. “Also, if I might stake a guess, did your mother put you to work in the garden?”

Sola made a face.

He always did this when they were little – she knew how it ended. In the end, no matter what she chose Sola would end up learning more about the current state of the Republic than she ever cared to know.

He called it educational. She called it… well, certainly educational but in a non-consentual way. It was the kind of education that rained on your parade and made the world appear just a little less welcoming.

Like being handed a loth-kitten and then being told about loth-cat overpopulation problem that made this specific loth-kitten a pest and a danger to the ecosystem.

“Unfortunately, she did. You two really scared Mom, you know? She’s being all foreboding. At this rate, she’s going to start buying canned food and preparing for the apocalypse. Are things really that bad? Last I heard, the Separatist leaders officially surrendered and agreed to negotiations.”

“They did,” her father confirmed incredulously, “two weeks ago. Have you not been watching the news at all?”

“I try not to.” Last time she browsed the holonet, they had a whole lot to things to say about her sister and Sola instantly decided that perhaps ignorance was the better way to go. If she truly needed to know something, the knowledge would come to her.

So far, this mentality had always served her well.

For one, if she hadn’t learned about the Blue Shadow Virus three weeks after the threat had passed, she might have been very stressed out about that.

“The negotiations have stalled since then. There’s been disagreements showing up with nearly every demand. It’s stalling so horribly that people are starting to forget they’re afraid of the Clones and are now suggesting that the GAR gets involved.” Padmé added. Her face was stony, which meant she considered the situation to be absolutely serious.

Sola took a careful seat on the couch. This was, as it appeared, no simple cheerful debate.

She didn’t need to be a politician to know that this was a bad sign. A very, very bad sign indeed. The GAR had already partly disbanded after the initial terms for negotiations; she had no idea if it was even possible to gather it back in the same numbers.

Moreover, the Separatists had closed the droid factories but if the threat of the Army getting involved starts rising, they might re-start the production. At which point they’d just be at war again.

This was insanity.

To think that people could learn that the war was a staged conflict all along, condemn it and then without a critical thought call for the renewal of it...

“Do you think it’ll come to that?”

“If the Strategic Advisory Cell has their way, it’s possible. There are individuals, like Admiral Tarkin, who are beginning to realize that in peaceful times, their rise to power through the military will be greatly inconvenienced.”

Sola noted the unfiltered derision in Padmé’s voice and the way she’d singled out one name in particular. From your everyday person, this could be an innocent name drop but from a politician, it meant war.

“You sound like you truly dislike this Admiral Tarkin. What did he do?”

Her hunch proved correct. Padmé’s eyes lit up in a way that telegraphed that she, indeed, had many many opinions on what this individual did or didn’t do and that she would very much like to do something about it.

“Admiral Tarkin was the head of prosecution in both Anakin’s trial and that of his Padawan learner earlier this year. In both cases, I got the impression he was… personally motivated. I admit, I have my own biases, but there is a suspicion that he was aware of the Chancellor’s plans for his Empire and was promised a prominent office in it in exchange for his cooperation.”

“I see.”

This all seemed politically important, but that wasn’t what drew Sola’s attention.

She had never known Padmé to hold grudges; she was righteous, yes, and had little tolerance for the cruel and the corrupt but ultimately, she tended to preach forgiveness.

It seemed like there were a few things Padmé could not forgive.

“Do you have reason to believe this… suspicion?” Their father prodded tentatively. “If there truly are people in high positions left that remain involved in Palpatine’s plan, then that is truly troubling indeed but we must be cautious. Every opportunist caught wind of the public outrage. There are many accusations flying around right now.”

“I don’t have proof; if I did, I would have brought it before the courts and made certain he was convicted,” Padmé admitted, “but he was a close friend to Palpatine and certain things he did in the aftermath of his death make me feel like he was trying to do damage control. I don’t think this is me just being paranoid.”

Like a proper rhetorician, she waited to make sure she had their attention before elaborating, in a lowered voice; as if she was sharing a secret with them.

“For one, he would not let anyone speak to Anakin until Tarkin himself could get a statement from him. We found out later that the medical care Anakin received while in prison should be considered deliberately negligent, specifically in the area of his throat injury. It is far too coincidental that the prosecution insisted that he was not competent to represent himself in court because he could not speak, when the reason he could not speak was due to detrimental treatment Tarkin himself insisted on.” This was said with her Amidala voice; then as Padmé she continued: “The surgery I personally paid for after his release took care of that issue obviously – or as much as it could still be taken care of at that point – but the doctor mentioned that it could all have been avoided if they took care of the scar tissue around the vocal chords during initial treatment, which is the standard procedure.”

This was an onslaught of information, delivered as if each bit of it was self-explanatory; it took her a bit to process it all. Once she did manage to chew to the gist of it, it was all too-clear to Sola why Padmé held such a grudge.

It was not just injustice. It was personal.

“...I know you mentioned an injury but I did not realize that was happening around the same time as the Palpatine thing, the trial and… the twins being born? If I have that right? It must have been hard for you.”

Hard was an understatement; no wonder Padmé had a difficult time recovering from the birth if those were the circumstances around it. Sola had delivered both her daughters with full support of her family and thought it to be the greatest challenge of her life, both physically and mentally. Padmé had her twins in secret, with a husband in prison and at the centre of terrifying political intrigue, all while the system she dedicated her life to continued to fail.

“Like I said, it ended well. Neither of us wanted to spend more time at courts so we just let it go. And it turned out that Anakin did not actually know anything that would incriminate anyone other than Palpatine anyway – but I still doubt that someone would take all that effort to keep him silent, if they did not have the slightest reason to suspect he might have something to say. I don’t trust any of them.”

“Surely, you weren’t the only one to notice this. Does Senator Organa share your suspicions?” Ruwee picked up on Padmé’s mood and gently steered the conversation the other way.

“He does. It’s why he’s been petitioning for the dissolution of the Strategic Advisory Cell now that the war has ended, yet they manage to cling to relevancy. For the most part, by creating new problems.”

This was precisely why Sola did not bother with politics – over and over, it seemed to be nothing but one roadblock after another. There was not one issue in the Republic that could be solved in a clean fashion, or so it seemed. She’d never told Padmé this but she always thought of the Senate to be a leaking dam; one that they controlled just enough that it never quite broke down on them.

But a dam can only hold so much before there’s cracks in the concrete and the Republic was thousands of years old.

“You’ve said that the negotiations have stalled before though,” she recalled, “so it’s entirely likely then that they’ll proceed to continue again and eventually turn out successful.”

“That’s what Senator Organa is working on.” Her sister explained with that same serious expression she’d been wearing the entire conversation. “There are many members of the Loyalist Committee tirelessly making sure that compromises are both found and accepted by both factions. But the matter is, the Senate is in shambles and so is our economy, the Chancellor’s office holds too much power and the elections have Senators acting… unwise.”

“You mean they’re at each other’s throat?” Sola raised an eyebrow. “Is that not the average day at the Senate?”

“It was never that bad,” Padmé grumbled with no real heat. “But now there are some that like Palpatine’s idea of an Empire and they hardly bother to hide it. And there is a lot of paranoia about the conspiracy behind the war, both in the Senate and out of it. We’re hardly a united front but we are in times when we need unity more than ever.”

“The current negotiations are over reparations.” Her father informed her. “The Republic proposal is currently an amount that would replace the missing funds in our budget. The war was very expensive, you see. But unfortunately the Separatist side has the same problem so agreeing to those terms would cause thousands of systems to fall into poverty. And this is not even beginning to scratch the part where both sides keep accusing each other of war crimes with little means to prove them.”

“I see.” Sola sighed. “This is all very depressing. I will never understand how you can tolerate it, but I’m glad you’re at least not dealing with it alone on Coruscant right now.”

Padmé grimaced – it was as if she couldn’t decide whether to smile or wince.

“...Selfish as this might sound, so am I.”

“It’s not selfish.” Ruwee interjected at the same time as Sola exclaimed: “How could it be selfish?”

There was a moment of silence during which Padmé nervously fixed a strand of hair.

“Do you know who’s representing Naboo in my… absence?” She asked in a tone that implied they should know.

Sola needed a moment and to see her father wince and look away. And then she understood.

“Oh, no.”

“Yeah.” Padmé pressed her lips together.

“Jar Jar?”

“Yeah.”

“Jar Jar is representing us during the single most tumultuous time in the Senate’s history?”

“He’s not that bad. He’s a good friend.” Padmé tried to defend.

“You literally just implied you think he’s that bad.”

Her sister had the grace to look bashful.

“I don’t know how well I would have navigated this if I was at Coruscant.” She admitted, “My heart goes out to Bail. Everything is in chaos and it seems like there are no right options anywhere. But watching it all from home, I can’t help but feel like I’ve abandoned them. Even if… even if it was not my choice to leave my office. I couldn’t make that call, in the end.”

“Oh, dear,” Ruwee laid a gentle hand on Padmé’s shoulder, prompting her to face him, “I felt the same when I handed in my own resignation letter and that was in far better circumstances. It’s difficult, for someone who worked in the Senate, to let it all go and put trust that the Republic you helped build will continue on without you. You’re too familiar with all the faults and all the ways things could go wrong. But in a time like this – especially in a time like this, you must have that trust.”

The word trust seemed to bring up something bitter in Padmé. She seemed to shake it off, ashamed, but it lingered in the corners of her mouth.

The kind of bitterness that tended to be reserved for a great personal betrayal.

Sola had always thought that flawed as it was, the Republic was one of the great loves of Padmé’s life. To watch it cannibalize itself right in front of her eyes – and nearly take down her own husband with it – could be nothing short of a heartbreak for her.

But hadn’t everyone else believed that Padmé’s life mission was doomed, at least in the privacy of their own minds? Sola knew she had. She’d shook her head and watched her sister shoulder that burden regardless.

How culpable did that make her?

“Trust,” Padmé said eventually in an even voice, “is in short supply right now. The whole time, it was a struggle to hold onto my faith in the Republic – and for what end? Was I wrong? Did I waste my time?”

“...I wish I could tell you but I don’t have those answers. Only you can tell if it was worthwhile, at the end of the day.” Her father’s hand gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. The was no trace of judgment in his tone, and Padmé finally relaxed, leaning into him as she did when she was much younger and her problems much easier to fix. She tucked her legs against her side and let her cheek rest against his shoulder.

It was a restful position but her eyes were wide open – and still watching the rodian on the holoprojector recapping the session, even though she must know it all by heart by now.

Sola watched them have that moment. If trust was in short supply now, she imagined that for Padmé, comfort must have been in short supply for quite a while.

She’d always been closer with their father than Sola had; they shared that common interest and, more importantly, Ruwee Naberrie was a gentle, forgiving soul, exactly who Padmé always wanted to be. He was open with his praise and encouraged his daughters to pursue their happiness, regardless of what that might mean.

From the start, he had embraced the news of Padmé’s children without any reservations or ill-will. Sola had hoped that the two of them would talk so he could communicate that to Padmé but it seemed like her hopes were not needed. Ultimately, Ruwee Naberrie knew did not need to use any words at all to convey his acceptance to his daughter.

Sola ducked her head and left, pretending she did not see the wet shine in her sister’s eyes.

〰 〰 〰 〰 〰

Lunch was a quiet affair only by the proxy of the twins not being present. They started their daily fit of colic just before the meal started and with a look of utter resignation, Anakin had elected to watch over them on the other side of the house so the rest could eat without anyone screaming their ears off.

“We should probably have lunch earlier to avoid this.” Sola suggested idly once Padmé excused herself to check on them for the third time. “I mean, they are very consistent about their timing. It’s easy to adjust a little and work around it.”

Her mother’s face twitched.

“We’ve always had our lunch at this hour. I don’t see why-”

“Jobal…”

At her husband’s warning she visibly took the time to compose herself.

“Fine.” She said, unhappy. “We can eat an hour earlier.”

After lunch, Sola resigned to her shaak-tending business. She’d extended the invitation to Padmé more out of politeness than actually expecting her to go and was surprised when her sister agreed.

“I think I can let Anakin have the kids for a bit. I seriously have to start getting my stamina back. Before pregnancy, I used to run a few miles on my treadmill every morning and now look at me. I get breathless climbing up the stairs.”

She sounded so genuinely disgruntled, Sola couldn’t help but laugh.

“So do I.”

Padmé eyed her slyly. There was a lightness to her that Sola hadn’t seen in a while. I t seemed like some weight had been taken off her . Doubtlessly, she had their father to thank for that.

“Precisely.”

“Hey! You’ll see how fit you are when you reach my age!”

“Mhmm, we will see. I was always more sporty than you, if I remember right. You had your nose in your books all day long. Also, I hear you should maybe consider a chiropractor.”

It took Sola a moment to realize what she was referring to and then she rolled her eyes.

“Oh, so you had the time to gossip, I see. I give friendly advice and that’s what I get in return. Just watch it, a few years and you’ll understand what I’m talking about. You’re both utterly horrible.”

Padmé just grinned at her mischievously.

“In all seriousness though, I think I will go crazy if I don’t get out of the house a little. I love Luke and Leia but I haven’t been away from them at any point since they were born and I think it’s time I start working on that.”

She patiently waited while Sola shouted at her daughters to hurry it up.

“I swear, they harass me all day long and then it’s time to go and it’s crickets.” She grumbled. “Anyway, it’s a good thing you caught up on that, honestly. Some parents end up getting separation anxiety and it’s no good for them or the baby. You want to nip it in the bud, if you can.”

“I know, I’ve done my reading.” Sola resisted rolling her eyes. It was Padmé – of course she had done her reading. “I must confess that I’m a bit nervous but this is the best time to get used to it, since everyone’s together. There’s always someone available to help us out, I’m truly grateful.”

“I’m really glad too. I remember what it was like for me and I can’t imagine going through that alone.”

Padmé smoothed the heavy fabric of her skirt unnecessarily.

“That’s a bit overdramatic. I wasn’t really alone, a lot of people helped us out.” She muttered and then sighed. “But, I admit that towards the end, once Anakin got released, things calmed down and everyone had other duties to attend to. I don’t blame them, I understand completely. It was just a bit difficult because I was recovering from birth and he was recovering from surgery and – and just, you know – and the twins were – well, you understand. Eventually, I couldn’t take it anymore so I commed Mom.”

Sola’s response got lost by the loud stomping announcing Ryoo and Pooja’s arrival. Padmé’ s reflective look vanished from her face in favour of a wide smile.

“Are you ready?”

“Finally,” Sola breathed, “What took you so long, huh? I thought you couldn’t wait to get going.”

“Grandma made lemonade.” Pooja informed her without a trace of shame.

“Oh, so now she remembers about lemonade.”

“Don’t be grumpy. Remember, the shaaks can’t hurt you.” Padmé teased.

“Very funny. Do you know shaaks kill more people per year than the sando aqua monster does? Statistically speaking-”

B ut unhappy as Sola was to go on this trip, she had to admit that the others’ good mood was infectious.

The path they picked was steep but it was the shortest one, cutting through the shade of the pine forest and into the meadows where they used to have picnics. Sola remembered making that same trip a thousand times as a girl. Padmé would always race ahead and Sola would complain but when her mother gave that look, she’d still hurry up and catch up with her sister. She could see the two of them now, clear as the day – through every season, in every weather, growing ever so slightly until the memories faded out like the edges of a dream.

Did either of them imagine they’d one day make that same trip with their own children?

On Padmé’ s request, Ryoo demonstrated a folk song she learned during her short-lived time at the Academy choir. She was decently good at holding a tune; certainly better than Pooja, who joined in later. And most definitely better than Padmé, who was not even making an effort to hit the right notes .

Once they reached the meadow, the girls took out their scissors and cut up some grass to offer to the shaaks. Sola fretted nervously until Padmé pulled her aside, taking her along a trodden path to where she knew their father had put up a crude wooden bench a while ago.

“They’ll be fine. All jokes aside, shaaks really are gentle creatures.”

“I know.” Sola scrunched up her nose and took seat, “They just… stink. And frankly, they have no business being this big. I mean, they’re not even aerodynamic in the slightest. It’s very aesthetically displeasing to me.”

“You’d stink too if you spent all day outside.”

“That is a fair point.” She admitted half-heartedly, craning her neck to look at the direction Ryoo and Pooja vanished to until Padmé poked her in the ribs. “Do you remember when Dad built this bench? It was because Mom-”

“-Sat on an ant hill and refused to sit on the ground ever again, I remember.”

They shared a look for a few seconds and burst out laughing.

“Right, I could tell Dad was trying so hard to humour her. Or that time when Dad dropped the picnic basket? And the sandwiches got all dirty but we ate them anyway because Mom put in the effort to make them and she’d complain forever it we let it go to waste. Honestly, looking back, we used to do this so often. I don’t know why we stopped.”

“Life just got in the way, I suppose.” Padmé’s smile turned soft. “We can’t stop change, Sola. But it’s okay. This isn’t that bad, either.”

“I suppose so.” Sola looked at her sister inquisitively, “Are you happy?”

“What do you mean?”

Somewhere in the distance, she could hear the girls laughing. It made her heart ache, a little bit.

“It’s just something I’ve been wondering since you came back. I know you always wanted a family but… For as long as I knew you, you’ve always put your career first. Always. Even over… well, us. You must have known what you were risking with that marriage, that’s what I can’t understand. Mom can’t see why you would give it all away for a man either.”

“Excuse me?” Padmé didn’t raise her voice; but suddenly there was steel in her tone and her easygoing attitude vanished, “’Give it all away for a man’? Is that what you think of me? From the press, I would get it, but for my own family to assume-”

“-Wow, no, hold on.” Sola’s heart leapt in her chest. She extended both arms, placating. “Stop putting words in my mouth. I’m not assuming anything, I’m trying to understand!”

T his didn’t have the desired effect.

“Understand what? It sounds to me like you’ve already decided what you want to think.”

“That’s really not fair. I’m trying to be generous here, I’m trying not to speculate and I know I can’t demand you tell me everything but you can’t seriously expect me not to wonder at all when my sister makes a drastic decision and explains nothing!”

Padmé was quiet. Sola could not tell if it was good quiet or bad quiet – lately , her sister seemed something like a stranger to her. Her tells were no longer reliable. She had fears and hopes and concerns that Sola knew nothing about.

She took a deep breath. The last thing she wanted was to push her away further.

“I’m not asking you to tell me anything and I certainly can’t read your mind. It’s just one thing I’d like to know, as your sister. At the end of the day, when all is said and done, are you happy?”

Silence landed heavily between them. A soft breeze rustled the tall grass of the meadow but neither one was paying attention.

“...I chose this.” Padmé bit her lip and her hands twitched in her lap,“I think a part of me always knew it’d turn out this way.”

“That’s not really an answer, is it?”

“Shush, I’m thinking.” This was already said with a lighter tone; Padmé’s way of saying she wasn’t offended, “It’s not like – I’m not trying to keep you in the dark, I swear. I’m sorry if it looked that way. It’s the last thing I want and I came here trying to fix things. It’s just… things are hard to explain and I think I got used to not talking about certain parts of life. I don’t even know where to begin.”

“Well, you’re the politician. Pretend you’re – I don’t know – giving a speech and using a personal anecdote or something.”

“Don’t start. That’s different. Political speeches are about ideas. Emotions – emotions are different, alright?”

Sola wasn’t so sure there was as much of a difference between the two concepts as Padmé thought there was but she let her take her time. She could tell Padmé wasn’t trying to avoid the conversation. Through her brows were furrowed in thought, her shoulders were relaxed.

It was no different from the conversations they’ve had in the past. Sola had been willing to support Padmé regardless but – it was nice. It was nice to see that even if there were gaps in her knowledge, the way Padmé spoke to her had not changed.

After a few moments, her sister sighed and began.

“I did choose this. It’s true that I always put my career first before. But it’s not like Anakin changed my mind – I changed my own mind. I dedicated most of my life to the calling. It was not necessarily because it made me happy, but because it let me do something with my life that meant something.”

“No offence, but isn’t that the same thing, really?”

Padmé shook her head and her dark hair flew loose around her shoulders.

“For you, maybe. You can do your work without sacrificing your personal life. I couldn’t. Don’t get me wrong, I love my job. Loved.” She corrected. “But I still had to review my priorities. It was not easy, because I’ve spent my whole life living a certain way, making certain sacrifices and compromises and convincing myself it was fine, that the things I gained from it fully made up for the things I lost because of it. It was all about – about the shades of grey, I suppose. In politics there’s rarely clear solution. Everything has consequences of some kind and you learn to see the lesser evil as a victory. And that mindset… you don’t see it follow you into your personal life, but it does.”

This time it was Sola who had to gather her thoughts.

“I didn’t know that. I never got the impression that you ever… had second thoughts.”

“You wouldn’t have. It wasn’t that much of a problem when I was still on Naboo.” Padmé explained. “Once I was living on Coruscant and working at the Senate, that was when that mindset started slowly creeping on me for good – I think – and when I realized, it scared me enough that I doubled down instead of reconsidering anything. Meeting Anakin again and getting involved with him just… sped things up. Suddenly I had someone who put things into perspective for me just by existing – one thing about Anakin is that he does not compromise, for better or for worse. And suddenly I had to address why that was so appealing to me. That’s what happened. It isn’t some great tragedy and it certainly wasn’t his fault. It was unavoidable.”

“I never thought it was his fault.” Sola defended, “I know Mom doesn’t see it that way either. But how could we guess that… Why didn’t you say something? When you started having doubts? If not to me, then at least to Dad. If anyone would understand, it would be-”

“-I couldn’t.” Padmé cut her off. “I just – I could not do that. I didn’t want to give up the Senate because I really did enjoy it. It’s… very contradictory. I’m probably explaining it poorly.”

“I get the gist of it, I think.” She sighed and made sure her face betrayed nothing but patience and understanding. “Sometimes feelings are contradictory. There’s nothing that you can do about that.”

“Yes and the situation was… complex too. I didn’t want to give up on my position – the war had started and we both had our parts to play, for the greater good. Perhaps that was selfish of us. But in the end, I knew for all three years of our marriage that the secrecy would have to end. It wasn’t unexpected or something I hadn’t prepared for.” The look she gave Sola was composed, if tired.

“I guess you could say that while I love the career I have made and it means a lot, I could no longer commit to it the way I should. It was taking too much. The way it all ended just solidified that choice.”

What could Sola say to that?

It was Padmé’ s choice. It had always been Padmé’ s choice.

“...I think I understand. You had to find yourself – that’s fine, that happens. I’m glad you figured it out in time. Truthfully, I did see first hand some of the things that you had to give up, you know. A great deal of your childhood, for one. I feel like it was unfair of me to assume you were fine being a martyr.”

“I was hardly ever a martyr.” Padmé’s dismissal came with an amused smile, “All in all, it was a good life. I’ve been to so many places and met so many people... I owe a great deal of who I am to those experiences and I think they made me better. Anyway, this is all to say, you wanted to know if I’m happy. I think I will be. It’s – it’s a process.”

It would be a process, Sola guessed. She’d certainly need an adjustment period, coming from high-stress lifestyle like that.

And more than that, she got the feeling that Padmé still struggled to sort her own contradictions out, despite what she’d said. She might have seen that there was no future for her in the Senate but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt letting go. Knowing Padmé though, she probably already had alternatives though – she did have years to prepare.

“So, what now?”

Her sister cleared her throat.

“First? I need to figure out how to talk to Mom. I didn’t realize that – I see now that there’s a lot that she deserves to know. I really don’t know how I’ll apologize.”

Those were not the plans Sola was expect ing to hear but she’d bear with it.

“You’ll get your chance. You just have to talk with her and trust in your intuition. It’s not like you’re strangers, you do know how to talk to her, even if you think you’ve forgotten.” She didn’t waste words on platitudes; Padmé always preferred something more concrete than that.

“I suppose so. I just – I don’t know why it’s so hard. Maybe it’s just the guilt.”

“It probably is.” Sola agreed, electing to be completely honest, “But you’ll keep feeling guilty until you sort it out. It’s a cycle. You have to break it eventually, you can’t keep putting it off.”

“I know that.”

Padmé dropped her chin into her palms and stared forlornly into the grass. Somewhere in the background the girls were laughing. Sola sure hoped they were enjoying their shaaks.

“But,” she continued, more kindly, “it’s still only the first day. Let yourself settle down first. It’s important that you’re both in the right mood for it.”

Privately, Sola had a few ideas. Their mother had mentioned wanting to buy some saplings for the gardens – ultimately, it was better if these conversations happened spontaneously but a day trip to the mall sounded like a great opportunity for bonding.

She’d do Padmé no good telling her in advance, though. Let her do things at her own pace.

“You’re right.” Her sister sighed. “When did you get so wise? I really forgot how nice it is to just… talk like this. It makes everything look so easy.”

“That’s the point of talking, yes.” Sola raised an eyebrow. “Honestly, I absolutely see why you had to leave that job now. You seriously need some socialization.”

That startled a laugh out of Padmé , partly from the disbelief that Sola had really just said that.

“I probably do need some socialization.”

S ola hummed.

“We can put that under the second step of your grand plan, then. Just to keep things tidy. And then for step three, you pull your husband out of the shrubbery – don’t look at me like that, I just know Mom’s going to put him to work again if she catches him – and we all sit down and find a nice apartment for you two, how about that?”

“That,” Padmé’s eyes sparkled, “sounds like a very good plan to me.”

Chapter Text

The next few days passed sluggishly yet all at once. The cautious optimism and the sense that you had more time than you knew what to do with slipped away once everyone fell into a rhythm. Then, simultaneously, the infinite possibilities of vacation seemed to take a more realistic shape.

Sola managed to finally get a replacement logistician, some freshly graduated upstart named Geeb. His grades and references were both exemplary – but after a few hours on holocall with him, she was just about ready to start screaming.

It was not that he wasn’t capable. If anything, he was more qualified than his predecessor, with the added bonus of not being involved in a galaxy-wide conspiracy. Rather, Geeb’s flaw was that he possessed the rare type of perfectionism which led him to find problems where a lazier worker would find none. Rather than working with her, he seemed to take over the project.

But annoying as it was, this wasn’t the main reason for her stress.

Even now, Sola still didn’t have any proper plans. She’d sketched out ideas, sure, but felt lukewarm about them all. Nothing seemed to carry the message she wanted and her search was made more difficult by her uncertainty about what exactly the message even was .

Hearing Padmé describe her experiences in the final stretches of the war had at least made one part clear: the monument should not glorify the Republic or the war itself. It should honour the fallen, without alienating the former CIS and remind people of Naboo’s pacifist ideals, without trying to downplay their role in the war. Unity, Sola decided, should be the key. And true unity did not shy away from contradictions.

It was a tall order, to say the least.

It intimidated her – she had to express the nuances but she could not afford mistakes or ambiguity. But how? Her only experience with the war came as a civilian; she was as far removed from the battlefields and the scene on Coruscant as one could be.

The only way was through research.

Sola dragged a chair and a table to one of Varykino’s more secluded terraces, where she could work undisturbed. Her position offered a nice view of the gardens and the vibrant hills beyond the borders of her family’s property. Sunlight would bounce off the surface of the great lake in the corners of her vision when she was leaning over her datapad and an occasional breeze would remind her where exactly she was. With the bleak nature of what she was reading, she welcomed those reminders.

There was also one other benefit to it: sitting there from morning to late afternoon – with occasional breaks – she got to observe everyone’s routines.

Usually, Anakin would already be in the garden when she arrived, watching the sunrise. He always left when the rest of the household began to wake up and his departure was the cue for Sola that she should get ready for breakfast. Afterwards, her parents liked to take a stroll while the air was still cool. They’d walk one of the many paths around the villa, holding a quiet conversation hand in hand. Her mother liked to work on the gardens before it got too hot; but she had yet to reach the garden on Sola’s side yet. Sola’s garden had the best view, facing the lake, but was also exposed to the most direct sunlight. Thus, in the hottest parts of the day it tended to be deserted. Sometimes, Pooja would come out to paint the scenery, but she’d scurry away when her mother started shouting reminders to use sunscreen. Otherwise, there was no activity until Padmé went for her evening jog.

It was a peaceful existence.

Or it would be a peaceful existence. If it weren’t for Geeb and his unending checklists and their utter pointlessness. Why, exactly, an artist had to be burdened by bureaucracy, she could not say but Sola supposed some things simply could not be helped. Without an occasional pointless endeavour, an imperfect life would lose even that imperfection and end up simply… boring.

She would not have boring. Average, maybe, and calm but not dull.

It was on the third day that she finally managed to discuss Padmé’s living arrangements – or lack of, thereof.

Sola had allowed herself a short break in the early afternoon and set her mind on finally getting this done with. At this time of the day, the villa was rather calm. Everyone understood each other’s need for privacy and it was unanimously decided, without there actually being any conversations about it, that there should be a few hours in the day where they each minded their own business. Ironically, this made it the best time to track someone down.

She supposed she was breaking that unspoken rule a little bit but hopefully Padmé would not mind.

“Sola! Is something the matter? You look tired.”

Padmé welcomed her with a friendly smile, unperturbed.

“Oh, you know. Work problems. It’s no Senate business but it still gets tough for us normal people sometimes. I’m starting to think that getting full freedom over this project isn’t really worth the money… or the artistic authenticity.” She waved her hand dismissively and poked her head into Padmé's study curiously, “Anyway, sorry to disturb you, I hope it’s not a bother. I thought, if you had time, we could look at what’s available in Theed?”

Her sister tilted her head at Anakin sprawled over the couch with a silent question. He shrugged carelessly – or as carelessly as he could with a baby in his arms. It ended up being little more than an one-shouldered nudge, that only further telegraphed how utterly ambivalent he felt about it. Unlike Padmé, he didn’t look too thrilled about having his alone time interrupted but if he had any complaints, he didn’t find them worth voicing.

“Of course! I’m sorry, I completely forgot about it… Porridge for brains, lately. Just let me finish massaging Leia first?”

It was just as good that she said that, because Sola only now processed what it was, exactly, that Padmé was up to. Leaning over the table as she was, with her back to the door, her upper body completely hid her daughter laid flat against the wooden surface. If Sola had paid better attention, she might have noticed the bottle of oil and the carefully twisted nest of towels; or the way Luke, who was currently attempting to eat his father’s fingers, had an unusual greasy shine. He had clearly been the first victim.

“Mom suggested this massage to me,” Padmé explained while Sola took her seat on the sofa. Anakin politely shifted out of the way to give her space, “Apparently it helps with colics. It should take about two weeks before we see any results, but we have all the time in the world, don’t we?” That last part was gushed in Leia’s direction.

The baby gurgled back and flailed her tiny, pudgy arm.

“Now that I think about it, she told me the same thing when I had Ryoo. Ryoo got overstimulated really easily though, so we never really got into the habit.” She leaned down so Luke could see her better; he blinked at her with uncomprehending eyes. “Is there a reason you’re doing one at a time?”

Her sister hesitated for a moment.

“Oh, well, it’s just that-”

“I’m not allowed to manhandle them.” Anakin said with perfect neutrality. “Metal arm, right? Wouldn’t be very pleasant for them.”

“I’m sorr-”

“-Manhandle them ,” Padmé scoffed, “You wouldn’t manhandle them. I still feel like you’re overreacting. They’re sturdier than you’d think.”

“They’re not even the size of a womp rat cub, how sturdy can they be? Besides, Luke made it pretty clear how much he liked it.”

Instinctively, all eyes fell on the baby in question. Luke, unaware of the attention or his father’s discomfort, calmly continued trying to fit his whole fist in his mouth with shrill noises of delight. Apparently, he liked the taste of vegetable oil a lot. Or possibly any oil, Sola thought, given the appearance of Anakin's glove. Someone would have to keep a keen eye on that child once he started to crawl.

“Ah, so that’s what this is all about! I knew you were still upset about that.”

Anakin didn’t deny it. He tried in vain to pry Luke’s hand away from his mouth; but each time he did, his son simply swapped hands and tried again.

“I wouldn’t say upset, I’m just being pragmatic. Clearly, it’s not sa – come on, Luke, stop that. I’m running out of clothes without drool on them.”

“Ani,” Padmé spoke with just enough loving, deliberate patience that it was absolutely clear to Sola that they’ve had this same conversation a few times before, “Luke cried because he’s a baby and babies cry easily. New sensations overwhelm them easily. You didn’t hurt him. And I’ve seen you handle far more delicate things with that arm just fine.”

Anakin was suddenly very interested in Padmé’s bookshelf; his face had a stubborn expression. It was the kind of tactic employed by people who want to exit an argument without losing it.

“It’s different now. I don’t – I’m not taking that risk. It doesn’t matter anyway.”

Padmé watched him intently for a few moments, brows furrowed with conflict. She let it go with a disbelieving shake of her head, glancing at Sola.

“Well, Leia is pretty much done, just let me put her nappy on. She was really good today. She seems to enjoy massage so I wonder if I should try the full body tomorrow. Though it might be a bit unfair because Luke doesn’t seem to care for it much. Do you think it’d count as giving one of them more attention?”

She looked at Sola as if expecting some input.

“I have no idea. I’m not an overachiever like you, you know, so I had my kids one at a time. But I would think that you probably don’t have to worry about jealousy at this age yet.” She hesitated, “If you have the option with at least one of them, you should take it. Massage is a good way of bonding, because of the… er – the skin contact. Or so I have read.” Sola had also read that that was precisely why it was recommended for the fathers – or non-nursing parents, anyhow – as a way to catch up, but she had a strong suspicion that Anakin already knew that. 

He didn’t comment but he shifted Luke to his other side, very carefully supporting his head as he did. Compared to the thoughtless force with which Sola had seen him rip up those shrubs, the gentleness seemed almost out of place; painfully deliberate while the violence was instinctual. She had to admit that she didn’t know Anakin very well, but everything from the way he talked, always with a soft, quiet tone, and to the way he interacted with his children hinted that he was very aware of his strength and what it could do.

She found herself remembering – and not for the first time – the late Chancellor Palpatine. A traitor by every accord, proven beyond the shadow of a doubt in the very courts he had such sway over.

Yet, for all his crimes, he was still a frail old man. Nothing like Count Dooku, who had decades of Jedi training to defend himself with. What chance did he have against Anakin Skywalker? His execution had been an inevitability from the moment Anakin had decided on it.

A defenseless old man against a Jedi Knight – if that was an execution, what did it say about the executioner?

The executioner. It was strange to think of this man in Padmé’s study that way.

Strange... and probably unfair; simply going off what she’d seen of him, Anakin seemed perfectly pleasant, if a little incomprehensible to an average person. Most of all, she could see he made Padmé very happy – Padmé was hardly an average person herself so in that sense, they matched well. Perhaps this was why Sola could not find it in her to feel judgment. 

She pushed those reflections out of her mind. She had come here with a job to do, not to waste time.

“I took a brief look at the housing market but I really need to know what you’re looking for. A house? An apartment? What about the location? How many bedrooms? How many gardens? Do you want a garage? And most importantly, what’s the budget?”

Her questioning roused a bout of confused blinking. She patiently waited and let them exchange looks and shrugs.

“...that’s a lot of… things to consider.” Padmé started, slowly. “We haven’t really thought about it this far.”

“Alright, I expected as much. We can start slow and I show you some examples so you can figure out what you like?” Sola opened one of the tabs she had bookmarked on her datapad earlier. “I know you like luxury – don’t even deny it, you do – so consider this house, it’s near the Theed Academy and a few different kindergartens, family friendly district, four bedrooms and three bathrooms, a garage and a garden. Oh, and a pool. A really big pool.”

“It looks nice.” Padmé leaned over to look at the screen, rocking Leia as she did. “I like the wallpaper. Yellow really adds a certain charm. Oh, and I like the windows.”

“The windows stood out to me too. They’re Old Republic Naboo style, look at those arches. Very classy, if that's what you're into. And the glass is from Alderaan and very well insulated. You won’t be losing heat with this house.”

“Excuse me, is that the price?” Anakin cut in just as Padmé was opening her mouth to respond. “That can’t possibly be the price. For Force’s sake, that’s criminal.”

He shifted Luke into one armed hold to get a better look, as if he expected the numbers to change. Luke was not a fan of this and he made his protest known. Loudly.

“Hush, I know buddy. It’s blatant robbery. Good thing your mommy’s rich or you’d be sleeping in a crate under some bridge.”

“Here, try the pacifier. I swear, if he gets Leia worked up when she’s starting to get sleepy again…”

Sola let them handle that in peace. Privately, she wished they could have had this conversation without babies present but that was pretty much impossible. No matter what, one of them was always with the twins – Padmé had, in this sense, truly been reasonably concerned about attachment issues.

“Oh boy. If you think this is expensive, wait until you see some of the others. The housing market has gone wild during the war, and not just on Naboo. Ultimately, buying is still cheaper than renting though, if we’re looking at long-term expenses. And because of the war, property ownership will also boost your credit.” If she judged by his annoyed bewilderment, Sola would think she was speaking Geonosian. “You… don’t have a lot of experience with this sort of thing, do you?”

“...it’s not something the Order puts in their curriculum.”

“To be fair,” Padmé placated, amused, “this is a bit on the pricey side. It’s a four bedroom house with a pool, after all. But compared to how much rent cost back on Coruscant, this is nothing. I think we can afford to prioritize suitability over budget. Ani’s right, mommy is rich.”

Sola bit her tongue. She didn’t need to remind Padmé that she was also employed when she was on Coruscant; a Senator’s wage covered those expenses. At this rate, ‘mommy’ was going to have to find a job.

“It’s not the only option, anyway. It was just an example. You probably don’t really need four bedrooms. I mean, do you plan on having more children?”

“Hmm…”

There was some silent communication going on that Sola wasn’t privy to and didn’t particularly want to be privy to. Padmé gave Anakin a look and he blushed and looked away.

“…the Will of the Force is mysterious and full of surprises,” he mumbled towards the bookshelf.

Her sister kindly translated that for her.

“We… haven’t reached that far yet. But in any case, the twins will need their own bedroom each and it’s always good to have a guest room. Or two. We can probably do without a pool though.”

“Certainly without a garden too. Nobody has time for that.” Anakin muttered so quietly they had to strain to hear him. Sola couldn’t blame him; he had been the central star in Jobal Naberrie’s Grand Garden Rearrangement Plans but without prior experience, it would hardly endear anyone to the hobby.

Padmé didn’t seem as empathetic to his struggles though. Considering the way she had described their arguments about the thermostat on Coruscant, this was hardly the first time they ran into a difference of opinions and any novelty about asserting her will had worn off.

“It’s good for children to grow up with nature,” she said. “They’ll need some running space too, unless you want them to run around inside the house – don’t look at me like that, running inside is dangerous and I know Obi-Wan didn’t tolerate it either – and that aside, I’d really like a patio where I can relax in the evenings.”

He glanced at her with a dubious head tilt.

“You’re the one with the credits, it’s your call. Just don’t expect me to do flower arrangements.”

“Dear, I would never ask you to handle that. I’m far too familiar with your sense of aesthetics. We’d get hired help.”

Sola ended up showing them a few more potential lots before leaving them to think about it. Altogether, she was quite satisfied with their progress. They might not have known what they wanted from their living quarters but they turned out to be extremely sure of what they didn’t want.

Apartments ended up getting cut because of too many neighbours. Pools were deemed a waste of water and a safety hazard on top of that. Brick houses were ‘too old-fashioned’ and layered thermaplast was ‘too modern’. 

Padmé reluctantly took charge in the discussion after a bit; Sola had come to learn that Anakin had grown up on some poor, sandy planet outside of the Republic before taking up the lifestyle of an ascetic monk so his expectations when it came to housing were pretty... skeeved. It was brand new territory for him and he didn’t have any specific expectations. Through trial and error – and the five stages of grief as he came to terms with the prices – they found out he enjoyed minimalism and gothic architecture; tragically Padmé issued a veto on both.

“We’re not raising our children in a haunted castle,” she stated when Sola finally found some mansion that he liked the look of, “or in some Force-forsaken, vermin-infested droid factory passing as a home. Yoga-mats instead of beds? Do you intend to have a spine by the age of 30?” She waited a beat. “Please don’t answer that, it was a rhetorical question.”

“We wouldn’t have vermin,” Anakin protested, deeply offended, but that had been the end of that idea.

All things considered, it was probably for the best.

〰 〰 〰 〰 〰

There is a certain familiarity with a person you can achieve wordlessly, through sharing space with them and living separate lives side by side. Just that brief brush of occassionally passing each other in the same hallways already gives some understanding; pass them by a few times and you'll get a clearer picture. With each day, Sola found herself gaining new insight, simply though observing the little details.

This was not limited to just Padmé and Anakin, though the most was certainly to be learned there; she had not lived with her parents in many years. Being on Varykino with them all over again showed her precisely how much they’d changed since the days of her childhood.

In his younger years, her father liked to try his hand at various crafts. His shed was full of machinery and abandoned projects that haunted the corners, no matter how many times his wife begged him to at least cover them up and spare them the indignity of having to look at his whimsical inability to finish something. Now, Sola caught him emptying the shelves and tossing out those old trinkets.

“I’m getting too old to do anything with this,” was his explanation. “I feel like it’s fair to clean it out. I’m not using it but someone else might.”

He meant Anakin. Padmé had not been joking when she said he needed enrichment. He had volunteered for all kinds of work around the house and initially Sola had assumed he felt obligated to do it. The Jedi must not have the concept of chores, was her justification. She was quickly disabused of this notion when the work dried up and Anakin immediately went and found himself more things to do, completely unprompted.

In his first day off, he’d completely scrubbed Artoo, given him an oil bath, cleaned his servos, manually reviewed his coding, upgraded his thrusters and then scrubbed him again until even the droid was fed up with him and took to hiding away in Pooja’s room. His next victim was Threepio but unfortunately, Padmé kept her protocol droid in perfect shape so there wasn’t much to do there. Much to Threepio’s vocal disappointment. Eventually, Jobal found him disassembling her cooking droid in the front yard, for the lack of proper workspace. With the trashing, screaming droid pinned on the ground and its parts scattered everywhere, it was a little bit like a scene from a horror film.

“This is normal,” Padmé reassured over the sounds of a massacre, “See, this is why I told you we’re going to need a big yard. And ideally no neighbours. Unless they happen to be deaf or really polite.”

“Padmé, I love you but if avoiding having the police called on you is the main goal here, you should really consider giving those haunted castles a second thought.”

While Anakin’s tinkering certainly did produce results – the cooking droid was saved from the glitch that made it add Parmesan to everything but now it inexplicably had a personality and had taken to giving her mother attitude about her usage of spices – Sola couldn’t help but wonder where he found the energy. Between being a new parent and his frankly insane sleep schedule – quite memorably, Sola recalled at least three occasions when his ‘meditation’ gave her a heart attack when she went to get a drink in the middle of the night – it was quite fascinating how he functioned.

If Padmé seemed tired and lethargic then he was borderline manic.

Her parents must have noticed – or quite possibly had close encounters of their own during nighttime – but they said nothing of it. It was not their way. Instead of commenting, her father just quietly cleaned up his workspace without drawing any attention to it.

In this sense, they had not changed at all. She remembered them being the same way when she was younger. They paid attention to their children not to criticize, but to accommodate where they could. Now that she was a mother herself, Sola was able to look at this with new eyes and a new appreciation.

She couldn’t help but wonder just how many times her parents had gone out of their way for her, with her being none the wiser.

When her mind was focused on that, she was beginning to notice the other details. Every meal was something Padmé was fond of; and if she didn’t have a lot of appetite one meal, her mother took special care with the next one. There was always someone with her when she was watching the news. When Ryoo and Pooja started begging for stories from Coruscant, one of her parents was always quick to offer a distaction, without telling them off directly.

That was how her parents loved. Unobtrusively, silently.

It was not how Padmé loved.

Even as a little girl, Padmé had been vocal with her thoughts. Bossy, even. Whilst she still lived, their grandmother had likened her to the willful currents headed through Naboo’s hollow core – never quite as straightforward as you might believe them to be. In retrospect, the old woman had seen more than any of them. Sola wondered with a twinge of an old hurt just what her grandmother would have thought of how time had changed the little girls she once knew.

She’d probably say something wise about it. Like how the nature of a current never changes simply because it changed its path, and then she’d arrange a family excursion to some national park and make them sit on the same picnic blanket and share the same homebaked jogan fruitcake.

Remembering that fruitcake made Sola ache. She could hardly remember her grandmother’s face these days but she remembered the way it always felt like she returned from her house more in touch with her roots and at peace with herself.

Left now to her own devices, it was that peace of mind that Sola wanted to grant to her little sister but she did not know the first thing about where to start.

She had tried to treat it a little bit like she would treat an architecture study; observing the finer details, noting what worked and what didn’t before she even attempted anything. But the problem was hidden somewhere on the inside, rather than the surface and she was an artist, not an engineer.

Her parents’ gentle, wordless care clearly wasn’t working for Padmé, though which part of it had failed to deliver, she could not say. Sola hated herself a little for not noticing before – for just how long exactly had Padmé’s grace overshadowed her loneliness? – but now that she knew of it, it ate away at her mind with cruelty.

Sola was not a meddler by nature but it was this nagging feeling that spurred her to intervene at last.

〰 〰 〰 〰 〰

The opportunity presented itself when Ryoo and Pooja expressed their wish to go to the beach. They’d brought it up over the breakfast table in the same rambunctious way they unveiled all of their plans – and the adults at the table exchanged resigned looks, aware that at least one of them would now have to give up on their own plans for the day.

The negotiations were mostly silent and altogether lasted a few short moments. Nobody would force Padmé to go, of course, and Anakin had avoided the hassle by being absent from breakfast in the first place for his own mysterious reasons. Sola turned her pleading eyes to her parents. She was perfectly fine taking her daughters anywhere but she didn’t particularly trust them around large bodies of water. An admittedly silly part of her still felt like her presence wasn’t nearly enough in terms of adult supervision.

Her mother sighed.

“I’ll pack us some sandwiches.”

In Sola’s memories, the beach at Varykino was this magical place. It existed almost outside of the passage of time. The lake water was sharp and clear as a mirror, with colours blending and shifting on its surface from moment to moment – from blue to green to silver and when the sun started setting, it would burn with pink and deep orange. There was a bright crimson buoy bouncing on the surface about a hundred meters from land where her father’s speederboat had once waited. As children, she and Padmé would often compete which once could swim to that buoy faster; and then once again which once would be faster on the way back. When they returned, breathless and soaking wet with heavy limbs, the warm sand seemed as soft as the finest mattress money could buy.

The buoy was still there now, but thankfully for Sola’s nerves her daughters had no inclinations for those kinds of games. They preferred to run around in the shallow water, shrieking and splashing each other, while Sola and her mother found shade under a tree. Threepio, courtesy of Padmé, was lumbering around with the cooler her mother had packed with food and drink.

“You know, now that I have the girls, I can really appreciate how brave you and Dad were to let Padmé and I go that far out in the open.”

Her mother’s dark eyebrows rose in surprise.

“Where did that come from?”

Sola shrugged and prodded the sand with her foot, somewhat self conscious.

“It’s something I’ve thought about lately. This is the first time the girls and I left Theed since they were… I don’t know, very little. There’s a lot of things I’m remembering from my own childhood that we never got to do. As a mother, I’m more used to a certain low-risk lifestyle, I suppose.”

“You feel like you’re out of your comfort zone?”

“Most of the time? No, not really. I just find myself comparing my childhood to theirs. I know it’s not really fair. I mean, there was the war and the times were different.”

Even now it was hard to consider just how deeply the war had changed the galaxy. It went from being something most civilians didn’t need to concern themselves over to being almost like a virus, until it didn’t matter just how removed you were from the battlefield itself – you still felt the aftershocks.

And the aftershocks just weren’t stopping. Just yesterday, the Prime Minister of Kamino and those implicated in the inhibitor chip ploy were supposed to stand a public trial on Coruscant, only for it to be postponed when the Jedi prevented an assassination attempt on Lama Su’s arrival. Nala Se, a Chief Medical Scientist responsible for the creation of of the Clone Army, had died in the attack along with a few other members of the staff. Already, a brand new unrest was spreading and the negotiations with the Separatists stalled once again.

Padmé had shaken her head in disbelief when she saw it on the news.

“Unbelievable. And they have no idea who was behind it? It’s like they want the public to lose all faith in the Republic.”

Even Anakin had been disturbed.

“This will invite more distrust in the clones. It has to be the Separatists.”

But it wasn’t.

Early in the morning, the news came out that the assassin was a member of the Jedi Order gone rogue. With how controversial the Jedi already were after the war and the death of Chancellor Palpatine, Sola had no idea what would come from this but she had a feeling it would be nothing good.

By now it was an undeniable truth that the Republic was in a steady decline; and each time someone called it out, they were just as quick to point a finger at some culprit responsible for it all. Palpatine, the Jedi, the Senate, the Banking Clans, the Trade Federation, and on and on it went, never once approaching anything resembling a solution. Sola didn’t care for any of it – but this was the galaxy her daughters would grow up in.

“Sola, you’re not doing a worse job just because you’re doing it differently. In fact, these days I often wonder if your father and I might have not made many unforgivable mistakes ourselves.”

This gave her a pause.

In all her years, Sola could not recall hearing this kind of penitence from her mother. If it wasn’t for the solemn furrow of her brows, she would have dismissed the whole thing as ridiculous; some kind of sorrowful platitude for Sola’s sake.

But Jobal Naberrie was deadly serious.

“What do you mean? What mistakes could you possibly have made? Padmé and I both had incredible childhoods because of you.”

Her mother did not answer. She worked her jaw as if trying to chew up something bitter.

Sola could not contain her incredulous expression.

“Mom, seriously?”

“Don’t misunderstand me, dear. I do believe that childrearing should be based on allowing your child the freedom to explore and make decisions. But that is a rather broad stroke, is it not? The finer details are far harder to get right. What if those decisions are dangerous? What then? You understand what I mean. In the end, you’re the one responsible for them.”

And heavens, Sola understood.

Each time Ryoo started thinking of following her aunt’s footsteps in politics, a part of her felt like pulling her daughter close, wrapping her arms tightly around her dainty shoulders – anything to perhaps keep her there just a little longer, while at the same time understanding perfectly well how important it was to be able to let go.

There was a saying on Naboo, an old proverb from even old times.

Be wary chasing rivers, it said. Love them as you love the blood in your own veins. Cherish them when they give and forgive them when they take. But it is the height of folly to chase that which is departing by nature.

It was hard to think of children as something ‘departing by nature’ but it was not inaccurate. Sola felt a little bit like a fool for assuming that once her mother forced herself to let go, those feelings went away.

“I know. You just have to judge how dangerous it is on a case to case basis and hope for the best. But for what it’s worth, personally, I think you and Dad always made the right calls. I mean, at the end of the day we’re here now, aren’t we? And we are both alive and well.”

This was enough proof for Sola – but, apparently, not for her mother.

“Have we? Perhaps in your case, it’s easy to say that. You never pushed the limits like Padmé had. But your sister… she had been risking her life since she was not much older than Ryoo. We all knew the life she was picking was going to be dangerous – but did she understand it, at that age? What she would be giving up? It kept me up at night, even then.”

Sola tried to think of a response, aware of how the moment was being stretched into a poignant silence.

But what could she say, when she herself did not know where the line should be drawn between the pursuit of dreams and the risks? Did such a line exist at all? Had it been crossed with Padmé? The answers, Sola thought, did not really exist, so there was nothing at all to offer.

“But you let her go anyway.” She pointed out finally, just when the silence was about to begin to feel suffocating. “You let her go every time. Why start questioning it now that it’s all done and over? Mom, I know this is all unexpected and Padmé is enduring a rough patch currently, but she’s not unhappy with how her life turned out to be in general and I know for a fact she feels no resentment.”

Jobal glanced at her with masked surprise.

“I did notice that the two of you have been speaking a lot lately. I’m assuming Padmé told you that herself then?”

“She did, more or less. She’d tell you too, if you just spoke to her. She… I’m not saying it was the right call – or that it was wrong, exactly – but she had her reasons for keeping secrets. And she wants to make amends, she’s just… scared, I suppose.”

“Of me?” Her mother’s shoulders tensed as if she was just handed the weight of the world and was expected to carry it gently in the palms of her hands. “She shouldn’t be. That was never my intention. I wish she’d talk with me. I wish she let me share her life, if only just a little bit. I wish… It’s selfish, I admit. Perhaps I'm the one who didn't understand what I'd be giving up. But I would never blame her for any of it.”

Sola brought her hand slowly on her mother’s shoulder; and she held her gaze until she felt the tension there ease.

“Don’t blame yourself either. I swear, you and Padmé… You’re both so similar in some ways. This doesn’t mean she did anything wrong or that you did. Just talk to her. Clear the air. Even if her explanation isn’t enough and you still can’t help feeling hurt, it’ll at least give her the peace of mind of knowing where she’s at.”

Jobal furrowed her brows; then after a moment, she clearly made up her mind. She exhalled with the force that hunched her whole body inwards. When she spoke again, it was with good humour.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right. We must both look rather silly from your perspective, no?”

Sola let corners of her lips rise into an easy grin. She was far more at ease with this change in tone.

“A little bit,” she admitted. “But I understand. I think it’s a family curse of sorts. We want to make sure everything is perfect, but that’s never going to happen. We’re all allowed our little mistakes; I’d say it’s better even, to handle something wrong than to not do it at all.”

The thing with her mother was, she hardly ever gave much away but that didn’t mean she wasn’t paying attention to what was being said. Her expression was shrewd in a way that let Sola know that the tables had been flipped on her again.

“Sola,” she prodded. “Did you start this topic just to have this talk with me?”

“...Perhaps.” She gave a bashful look, still smiling. “I knew Dad wasn’t going to get involved and it was killing me a little because I could tell both you and Padmé were scared of getting something wrong.”

“Hmmm…” Jobal gave her a thoughtful look. “What else did Padmé say to you?”

“Many things. We mainly talked about why she was willing to give up on her career. I was… concerned that perhaps she didn’t know the risks she was taking there. You know, I don’t think she expects secrecy from me but you should really ask her yourself if you want to know about it.”

Sola felt a bit uneasy about dismissing her like that – she hadn’t been a little girl for many years now but it was still hard to refuse her mother. Especially when she so seldom asked for anything. For Padmé’s sake though, she would force herself to stand her ground on this if she had to.

But her mother did not press further.

“I suppose I shouldn’t have asked. But her answer, did it reassure you?”

What an odd question, Sola thought but she understood. The answer, however, was harder than she thought it would be.

“It’s complicated. In terms of concern for her? It did. I honestly think she will be alright. But it made me realize there were many things about Padmé I wasn’t seeing.” She hesitated, watching her mother carefully and wondering if she should continue. In the end, she threw caution to the wind. “She must have been lonely, all these years. I never noticed that, but it makes me… I don’t know. She could have used the support. She had a lot going on and I didn’t, really.”

Rationally, Sola knew it had been up to Padmé. If Padmé had wanted company or help, all she had to do was reach out.

But she hadn’t.

And Sola understood that sometimes life just worked that way. You could not and should not hold someone’s hand the whole way through. Even if, as a girl, she had considered her little sister her responsibility, Padmé was all the way grown up now. She’d led planets, represented systems and faced armies – and all those were experiences that Sola could not relate to, with her average life. 

Rational thinking, however, did not help the nagging feeling of negligence. The guilt settled heavily under her skin like a persistent itch and did not budge no matter how hard she tried to will it away.

Judging by her look, her mother could tell. She opened her mouth as if to say something but at that moment, Ryoo came running from the water, waving her arms and shouting.

“ Pooja found a crab! ” She called breathlessly, “ Come look before it runs off! ”

“Oh, my!”

〰 〰 〰 〰 〰

In the end, they never did continue their conversation. The girls had talked them into a round of water polo and after that, a serious topic was the last thing on anyone’s mind. They stumbled back to the villa late in the afternoon, exhausted, sunburnt and tracking sand everywhere.

Lounging on the living room sofa with her twins, Padmé paused in dangling a bright yellow plastic rattle-ball over Luke’s head just long enough to raise an eyebrow at the mess.

“Well, that’s inconvenient timing.” She commented. “You might find the cleaning droid otherwise occupied at the moment but to be fair, Dad did mention that it was making weird noises a few times. Even I would consider that an open invitation. Did you have fun?”

“You missed out on a nice round of water polo.” Sola informed her.

“Oh? Who won?” Padmé addressed the girls expectantly.

Pooja, who had wrapped her towel around her head, pretended not to hear but Ryoo, on the other hand, took the bait immediately.

“Mom and I did, it was real close! Like – uhhh – 19-21? But then Pooja missed the last score and-”

“-Oh, shut up !” Pooja complained, tearing off her towel. The tips of her ears turned red. “You only won ‘cuz Mom was on your team.”

Sola exchanged a glance with her mother. Jobal’s lips twitched ever so slightly.

“Now, that’s a bit rude to your grandma, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Ryoo agreed gleefully. She crossed her arms. “Don’t be rude to grandma!”

“It’s alright. I am a bit too old for these things. Perhaps you should ask Padmé to play with you next time. If I recall correctly, your aunt used to be quite the athlete.”

Padmé’s face froze in surprise for just a moment; then her eyes softened. Her smile was part joy, part relief.

“Quite the athlete? I would not go that far. I feel like I might have become horribly rusty.”

Sola couldn’t help but scoff at that – the way Padmé was jogging, she perhaps truly didn’t yet have the strength she once had, but she could hardly be considered rusty. Day by day, her stamina improved and she was running further and further. She’d return sweaty and exhausted and breathless but at the same time, her mood and energy levels seemed to lift.

That was something Sola had come to understand about Padmé. Her sense of security was built first and foremost on her own abilities. It was why she reached for the stars – and never for anyone’s hand – and why she had to give them up, in the end.

It didn’t alleviate her guilt but then again, she doubted anything really would. Some things just… were . And the river of life went on.

“But I would love to come with you to the beach next time.” Her sister continued on, pointedly ignoring Sola. “I was just thinking about it while you were gone, actually. It would be nice if we all went one day, like we used to. I haven’t been to the beach since… well, since my honeymoon, I think.”

And there it was, Sola thought.

Their mother made her offering of peace; and in turn, Padmé gave one of her own. I’m still here, was what their mother had to say; and to open her heart and say So am I. Let me tell you about it, if you’d like to hear it, was Padmé’s duty.

In truth, it really was rather silly. All you really needed to do to fix a distant relationship was reach out instead of running away. A perfectly average solution for a perfectly average problem.

“Now that you happen to mention it, I admit I’m a bit curious about that. I don’t presume you kept any holos?”

This was Sola’s cue to leave.

“Come on,” she told her daughters, as Padmé started launching into an explanation about having Artoo as a witness so he could record the ceremony. She placed a firm hand on each shoulder and led them away, “Time for us to have a nice, long shower before we get sand everywhere.”

“But I wanted to listen!” Pooja whined, dragging her towel behind her.

“I read on the HoloNet Aunt Padmé was married by a pirate.” Ryoo decided to side with her sister on this, superiority complex forgotten. “Or a – a gambler. I don’t remember who exactly. But they said it was ‘adventurous’ and ‘illegal’.”

Children, Sola thought with a touch of fondness.

“You shouldn’t believe everything you read on the HoloNet. And especially, you shouldn’t go looking into other people’s business. I know I raised you better than that.”

Perhaps she really ought to have had a talk with the girls, before they started drawing their own conclusions. It was hard to figure out what to tell them – when told that their Auntie had married a Jedi and had babies, Ryoo and Pooja just accepted that and moved on. Sola, who had been expecting questions, had been stumped but it made a certain amount of sense. At their ages, they had next to no concept of political consequences and perhaps that was for the best.

“But-”

“-That aside, I sincerely doubt there was a pirate involved. And Pooja, please pick up that towel, you’re going to trip over it at this rate.”

〰 〰 〰 〰 〰

Sola had not been there to hear what her sister and her mother talked about – though she had a rough idea – but she could see the difference in how they acted immediately.

The weight seemed to fall off Padmé’s shoulders. Though she still looked tired, it was more in line with the normal levels of exhaustion faced by first time parents and stressed former Senators. She participated in the conversation over the breakfast table a lot more often – but when their mother announced her intention to visit the Lake Country Mall, she still hesitated.

“I don’t know… What if the twins miss me? I know how long these trips can take.”

The deciding factor was, unexpectedly, Threepio.

The moment the protocol droid neared the table with a bowl of jogan fruit, Anakin had snapped awake.

“Threepio, you’re not moving right. C’mere.”

How he had noticed that, Sola had no idea. A few moments ago, she would have doubted he’d have noticed if someone addressed him directly or set him on fire. He had been staring morosely at the same piece of toast the whole morning with glassy, unfocused eyes. He did not seem to be aware of the conversation across the table or even his own hand tugging at the high collar of his sweater, occasionally exposing the barest hints of burned, blackened skin.

Unanimously, everyone decided not to bother him.

“Oh, my!” Threepio prattled in concern. Sola hadn’t thought it was possible for a droid to feel anxiety but apparently, that was an assumption made in ignorance. Threepio practically radiated anxiety as he let Anakin take a closer look at one of his arms. It only took him a few moments to figure out what was wrong.

“You have sand in your servos,” he stated with a frown.

“Oh, my!” Threepio repeated, but with a tint of relief. “How embarrassing!”

“Where did you even find sand?”

“Ah,” Sola shared a look with her mother and cleared her throat, “That might be our fault, actually. We took him to the beach yesterday. Sorry.”

“It’s fine. It’s a quick fix.” He eyed Threepio with sharp consideration, “The plating was built to protect the important areas from sand specifically. I was thinking of improving the joint mobility anyway. I’ll have to move a few things and do some major re-wiring but I think the capacitor is strong enough.”

This delighted Threepio.

“My goodness! An upgrade? For me? I am truly pleased to have earned such attention!” In retrospect, perhaps the droid might be more shrewd than Sola assumed. He must have spotted something in Anakin’s mood because he continued almost slyly. “Forgive me, Master Anakin, but if I may make a humble request, R2-D2, that scoundrel, made a passing comment on my servoprocessor.”

“Uh-huh. There’s nothing wrong with your servoprocessor, Threepio. Don’t listen to everything Artoo tells you.”

“Of course, I would never! But it is true that I was made from spare parts and there happens to be servoprocessors on the market far more befitting a droid of status such as myself…”

The girls, having caught onto what Threepio was getting at, started giggling at his transparency but Anakin humoured the request with patience that surprised Sola.

“Don’t push your luck.” He dismissed him with an amused pat. “Credits don’t grow on trees, you know. Your servoprocessor is fine as it is.”

“If you say so-”

“-What kind of servoprocessor would fit Threepio’s model?” Padmé spoke up, pausing between bites. Her brow creased in a way it did when she was debating something.

“Theoretically, anything made for standard protocol droids would fit. His current one was originally meant for a loader droid, I think, but I repurposed it and it works just fine.” Out of nowhere, Anakin looked somewhat embarrassed. 

Her sister hummed kindly.

“I’m sure it does. But I recall making a vow to someone that I’ll take very good care of my protocol droid. Don’t worry, Threepio, I’ll look for your servoprocessors at the mall.”

It truly was amazing how quickly she changed her mind once doing someone else a favour was involved.

This was nothing new from her, but Sola had a strong feeling that no matter how kind Padmé was, this wasn’t truly for Threepio’s sake. Her hunch was confirmed later when they were heading off.

Her sister had been visibly reluctant to leave the twins behind; her hesitance manifested in the form of lengthy instructions for Anakin and their father. Only after they pulled away from the final embrace, did he reluctantly stop her by laying his mechanical hand on her shoulder.

“Wait, if you’re sure about this, there’s this new model…” He trailed off, as if it pained him.

“Yes?” Padmé waited patiently with an indulgent smile. Behind her back, Sola raised an eyebrow at their mother and nudged her head towards the exchange. The look she received in return let her know Jobal was watching just as attentively.

“The Techno Union recently started selling some of the parts they used for their battle droids on the galactic market. I… happen to know for a fact that their servoprocessors are excellent quality. They’re cheaper than what they make specifically for protocol droids but they’re more durable.”

“I see.” Gently untangling herself, Padmé pressed a gentle kiss on the back of his glove; not at all caring that he could not feel it. “Thank you for telling me, Ani. I’ll try to get you one of those, then. And you try to get some rest, alright?”

She was halfway out of the door and nearly caught up with Sola when she suddenly spun back around, the fringes of her silky summer dress fluttering around her.

“Oh, and I almost forgot, since I’m gone, you’ll have to do the massage today.”

“Hey, hold on -”

“-You’ll be fine, don’t worry! Dad’s there to help you out, if you need!”

During the speeder ride, Sola still found herself thinking about it. It was interesting to watch her interact with Anakin – when it came to him, Padmé couldn’t seem to master restraint. Everything she said or did, from the teasing to the tenderness, was unapologetically loud, as if her whole being was burning up to make up for lost time.

Or perhaps, from a more sobering perspective, as if – even now that the War was over – a part of her still worried over not having enough time; still cradled each moment like something immensely precious.

“What’s with that look?” Padmé tried to keep her voice diplomatic but could not keep out the hints of suspicion. Evidently, this was still a point of insecurity.

Sola blinked. She hadn’t realized she’d been making a face at all.

“Nothing. It’s just… you two are terribly dramatic, you know that, right? It’s just a shopping trip, you’re not leaving forever.”

“Sola, don’t tease your sister.” Their mother called from the driver’s seat. “I think it’s very sweet. There’s nothing wrong with being devoted.”

Padmé held onto her dignity with a stoic grip; but traitorously, her cheeks coloured ever so slightly.

“I fail to see what’s so dramatic about it.” She tilted her head the other way and pretended to look out of the window.

“Mhmm, I’m sure you do.” Sola elbowed her playfully, buying none of it. “I told Ryoo and Pooja to call if they need something and that was it. And my girls are eleven and nine, mind you, not twenty-something war generals – though I do have to say that they do beg for toys the same way. And yet, there you were, with a whole monologue and two love confessions. How’d that work out for you on Coruscant?”

“ Sola …” Jobal warned again, but she sounded amused.

“I’m just saying .” She shrugged carelessly.

“You sound exactly like Sabé. She’s always raining on my parade too.” Padmé rolled her eyes. It did nothing to distract from the soft warmth of her expression or the way she smiled almost like a giddy schoolgirl. Love, Sola observed, made people both look and act younger. It was no wonder Padmé fell so hard – she’d hardly had the time to be young before. “I’m just very happy. I waited a long time to bring him home, you know – and I mean, a real, proper home. One where he doesn’t need to climb in through the windows and I don’t need to lie to anyone. I don’t care if it’s dramatic, I’ve more than earned my right to it.”

“That’s a very sweet sentiment but I have to ask – through the windows ?”

“Now, wait a moment, you told Sabé?” Their mother asked at the same time. She and Sola exchanged a look in the rear-view mirror. “Who else knew, huh?”

“The window cleaners, I assume.” Sola quipped. “Seriously, wasn’t your apartment on Coruscant on, like, two thousandth floor?”

Her sister sighed deeply.

“Must you torment me? Yes, my staff knew, sorry Mom. I didn’t really have a choice in that matter, because apparently none of them know how to knock.”

Padmé, Sola thought, truly had no idea how ridiculous her life sounded. Or how each of her answers carried unintentional, absurd implications that would continue to bring Sola an unholy amount of glee for the rest of the ride – though by the time they landed at the mall, it looked like she was beginning to clue in on it.

“Why do I have the strangest feeling you’ve waited your whole life for this?”

Sola’s hand flew to her chest in a mock offense.

“Are you implying it has been my sisterly prerogative to bully you over your romantic endeavours since the moment I first laid eyes on you? Why, I never.”

“How old are you?” Padmé grumbled.

“I’ve been asking myself that the whole ride.” Their mother locked the speeder with a click. “Now, at your ages – don’t look at me that way Padmé, you give as good as you get – do I have to warn you to behave in public?”

This, too, reminded Sola of the old days when Padmé still wore her hair in twin braids and was missing a few baby teeth and the two of them constantly fought over the air conditioning to their mother’s consternation.

The nostalgia brought comfort. As much as she protested, the teasing seemed to take her sister’s mind off her anxieties – or perhaps that was the shopping itself. Any hesitation over leaving her twins and husband behind seemed to be forgotten by Padmé the moment Jobal handed her a few dresses and sent her over to the dressing room with strict orders to give them a show.

“Red is in fashion this summer, dear. I think these would look good on you, just humour me?”

And as it turned out, Jobal Naberrie’s hunches never failed; or perhaps, Sola mused, Padmé simply looked good in everything she put on. Elegantly, neither of them mentioned that her sister’s usable wardrobe had shrunk a bit due to her pregnancy.

Quite similarly, her budget had shrunk due to her unemployment and the presence of other, far more expensive purchases on the near horizon. Knowing Padmé and her spending habits when it came to fashion let Sola know that this was the real reason behind the sad look she gave the dresses before attempting to return them to where they came from.

Their mother was having none of it, however.

“You might consider this a belated wedding gift, if you will.”

“…you already bought me so many things for the twins…” Padmé complained half-heartedly, even as she obediently followed her mother to the checkout.

“And I shall buy them more.” This was said in a tone that heavily suggested that Padmé might as well get used to it.

But just because Padmé hesitated to buy things for herself didn’t mean she had any qualms on spending on her family.

Sola’s warnings about how quickly babies outgrew their clothes – and how moot it was, ultimately, to dress them up to look cute – fell on deaf ears as the twins each got several full designer outfits for months ahead. In that regard, she at least had the sense to buy oversized clothes rather than ones that would fit them right now. She didn’t stop at designer clothes though.

“Sola, come look at this!”

With an expression of utter delight, Padmé held up two different onesie pyjamas: one doing its best to imitate generic clone trooper armour through baby-friendly material while the other…

“Oh, my! Is that…? I didn’t know Master Yoda was so… fluffy. And the ears… I don’t even know what to say. It’s disturbing but in an oddly cute way, honestly.”

“Anakin is going to lose his mind.” Padmé said knowingly and added two pairs of each in her cart.

Sola tried to envision Padmé’s grumpy babies in matching Yoda onesies – which was clearly just a sloppily modified Ewok costume – and felt the sentiment extremely reasonable.

“Honestly, I’d lose my mind too, if someone dressed my baby in a grotesquely deformed parody of my old boss.” Except in that case, they’d need a little baby suitcase, sunglasses and a tiny baby-sized glass of baby margarita. Sola shuddered. Annoying as her current artistic block was, going into self employment was absolutely an enlightened decision on her part and she must never let herself forget that.

Their mother shared Padmé’s delight, however.

“Oh, they’re adorable. We’ll have to take some holos for my album. And to send to your aunties, they’ll want to see.”

Once she was done shopping for the twins, Padmé took a detour to the men’s section.

“Do you know what the most ridiculous thing is about the Jedi?” She asked rhetorically, digging through a pile of black shirts. “They wear the same outfit every day. They have no variation, just dozens of identical copies of the same thing. It’s ridiculous.”

That, Sola thought, explained a great deal.

“I think it makes sense for them. They’re not supposed to be vain, right?”

“Because everyone who’s ever owned more than one outfit has succumbed to the life of sin, carnage and darkness.” Padmé rolled her eyes and moved to a different pile of black shirts; completely identical to the other but this time with a sign proclaiming they were made from 100% pure monocot-fiber.

“Is dressing in monochrome also a Jedi thing?” Sola couldn’t help asking. “Too many colours could be… tempting, I suppose. Seductive, even. Or maybe they represent emotional instability.”

Her sister let out an inelegant noise.

“I’m sure in the history of the Order, at least one Master had pondered this exact same thing. But no, officially there’s no rules about that. Anakin is just… Anakin.”

“I see. I did notice he expanded his horizons a bit with some dark blue the other day. I’m happy for him.”

“So did I. It was a very nice shade of blue. Very exciting.” Their mother contemplated. Sola could not tell for the life of her if she was joining the teasing or being serious.

“Mhmmm.” Padmé hummed her agreement. “I assure you that was completely against his will though. I forgot to do the laundry and then Leia threw up on him – twice – and well, he doesn’t have that many things to wear in general. Yet, I'm working on it. So that did it, ultimately.”

In the end, the clothes she picked were all extremely basic, by Padmé’s standards. Sola was almost surprised by her self-control and then immediately took it back when she started adding scarves of various lengths and shades.

“You’re getting him accessories now?” She raised a dubious eyebrow. “He doesn’t even tolerate patterns on his shirts, how is that ever going to fly?”

“Well…” Padmé hesitated. “I think he might find them useful, is all.”

Sola wouldn’t question it further if their mother hadn’t stopped to comment.

“There’s cosmetic clinics that offer pretty advanced scar removal procedures. Have you considered…?”

Oh, Sola thought and wanted to kick herself.

Padmé’s arm holding a rich grey scarf wavered for a moment.

“Yes, we have.” She shook her head and then added the article to the cart. “It’s complicated. I did my research – a lot of it, believe me – and I came to learn that there’s limits to what modern medicine can do. Some things are just forever, I suppose.”

“I understand. I’m sorry if I overstepped, I just happened to notice.”

“It’s fine.” Padmé was already moving on. “There’s really no harm in it. It’s not a sore topic for me and you have the right to ask. But I’m curious, how did you figure…?”

“Ah.” Jobal smiled knowingly. “I simply made an assumption, really. It was the way he touches his neck that tipped me off, and all those high collars. From my experience, whenever people have nervous tics like that, there’s usually a story behind it.”

“That was still a very clever deduction,” Padmé allowed. Beyond the mild surprise, her face was carefully neutral.

Sola felt completely lost.

She had noticed that particular habit and had even found it peculiar; but then she’d thought no more of it, preoccupied with other things. How on Naboo her mother could note details like that and draw conclusions from them was beyond her.

“I don’t really follow,” she admitted. “I assume that’s why you said he couldn’t speak at his trial back then? I didn’t want to ask at that time but… what even happened? I mean, unless it’s some kind of state secret…?”

She watched Padmé turn the question over in her mind as she paused next to the brightly coloured swimwear section. She didn’t seem too concerned, but the tightness around her eyes betrayed her.

“It’s not a… ‘state secret’ but it’s still hard to explain. If I’m honest, I didn’t… It didn’t seem that important, by itself – you know, given everything else that had happened. Especially not compared to the aftermath. But… I’ve been realizing lately that perhaps that was a mistake.” Her teeth worried around the corner of her lip. “Alright, if I’m explaining this, I’m explaining everything. Do you know what a Sith Lord is?”

“Duh. Count Dooku was one. They use the Force, like the Jedi do. What does that have to do with anything?”

“Palpatine was one as well.” Padmé said with a matter-of-fact tone. “Dooku was his apprentice.”

Sola blinked. She looked from Padmé to their mother and back to Padmé trying to make sure she’d heard that correctly. When she saw both women were looking absolutely serious, she leaned in to ask hurriedly in a hushed tone.

“Hold on, I thought Dooku was a former Jedi? Are you telling me that Chancellor Palpatine…? But that doesn’t make sense, his history is public and he hardly even interacted with Jedi before he joined the Senate…? Am I missing something?”

Padmé leaned heavily on the arms of the cart and her voice lowered.

“No, you’re right about that, the Chancellor wasn’t a former Jedi. The truth is, you don’t have to be a Jedi to use the Force. There are other sections in the galaxy that practice it. I don’t fully understand what the difference is but – there are certain abilities that only the Sith will use, because they draw on something called the ‘Dark Side’ of the Force. Anakin tried to explain that to me once. Apparently, the Jedi find it to be a perversion of what the Force is.” She looked around, as if to make sure nobody was listening. Somewhat spooked, Sola mimicked her, wondering how ridiculous they looked, standing like that in the middle of the store.

A young couple passing by nearby gave them an odd look. Unbothered, Padmé held their stare as if in challenge until they spontaneously decided that the trousers section looked far more appealing at this time of the day – much to her sister’s satisfaction.

“Right…” Sola drawled, dubiously. “Let’s say that didn’t go over my head. What does that have to do with anything?”

“Sola, give her time to finish.” Jobal scolded. “Padmé did say that it would be hard to explain.”

She turned expectantly to Padmé as if to say: ‘Well? ’

“It is hard to explain. You have to understand that this wasn’t broadcasted because it would, as you put it, go over a lot of people’s heads. Besides, under the Republic law, being a practicing member of the Sith sect isn’t a crime, so in that sense it truly had little relevance when it came to what Palpatine was guilty of. From a legal standpoint, at least.” Padmé continued on.

It was then that Sola realized where this was headed. It hit her on the head like a pile of bricks.

“Hold up, are you saying Chancellor Palpatine gave Anakin those injuries? That frail, weak old man? Really? ”

It wasn’t that Sola doubted her sister. But it was just… Palpatine was Palpatine. And Anakin was not someone you picked a fight with. Sola had seen him wrestle a heavy, flailing droid to the ground and look like he was having fun the whole way through.

“There was nothing frail or weak about that man.” Her sister scoffed with derision, clearly seeing that Sola wasn’t buying it. “He was pure evil. He trained Count Dooku and everyone knows how many Jedi that man killed during the War. If there existed such a thing as a hierarchy of strength, he’d have been at the top of it.”

Despite her best attempt to contain it, Sola made a disbelieving noise.

Her mind kept envisioning the old man she remembered from holos; with his yellowed teeth and sunken eyes. His hands, she recalled, were frightfully spider-like. Just wasted skin and bone. Where could any hidden power even find a place to lie, within a body like that?

Her mother, though, grew alarmed.

“Padmé,” she prompted, with urgency, “Should we be discussing this in public? Don’t misunderstand, there are some things I’d very much like to know but perhaps we should move somewhere more… quiet.”

Padmé startled, as if she’d forgotten. The grim expression slipped from her face at once; so quickly, even, that it looked frightfully unnatural.

“Right. Just let me pay for this and then we can go sit somewhere. Maybe near that water fountain? The one with the Gungan warrior statue. It’d make it harder for anyone to listen in with all the noise.”

The logic of that was sound – but the way they were both moving in stoic silence had Sola tittering behind, filled with an uncomfortable mixture of confusion and anxiety.

The fountain in question was an old favourite from their childhood. Sola used to get fed up with shopping very quickly; so once she had enough, she’d leave Padmé and her mother to their own devices and go find herself a place to sit and just… watch the people. It was fascinating to her, at the time, to try and make up a story behind each stranger she saw passing by.

Learning about other people’s lives seemed a lot more pleasant when she was young, though. Back then the thought of it was light, full of possibilities and new ideas. The unknown was nothing but exciting.

Now, she thought she’d just find new things to dread.

A Sith Lord… How could it be that nobody had known?

Their mother, bless her heart, did not waste much time. Whatever startling thought had occurred to her in the store had to get out; though she kept her composure, the raw force of her concern came through loud and clear.

“When you were alone with him, when he was mentoring you, he never hurt you or –”

“– as much as I loathe it, he was the perfect mentor. What stings is the betrayal, not cruelty – and perhaps the fact I could not see it coming.” Padmé’s face softened. “It’s alright, Mom. I promise. Nothing ever happened.”

“Still, to think that your father and I left you alone with that man. Anything could have happened.” Jobal frowned. “And we never suspected any danger at all from him… Not one thing.”

The look Padmé gave her was both sad and understanding.

“Nobody did. I’m not saying that just to placate you, Mom. I understand how you feel very well. But he was that good of an actor. The Jedi can sense ill intentions and they still failed to notice anything off about him. The blame lies with the deceiver, not the deceived.” There was the disdain, back in her voice. But under it, Sola could hear just the slightest tinges of hurt – and confusion.

With a startle, she remembered what Padmé had told her just before they set off for Varykino.

‘It’s my fault Palpatine got so far, partly’ she’d confessed, ‘And I never saw it coming.’

It was deeply personal for her. She didn’t consider it a failing of the Republic – she considered it her own failing.

“Palpatine had his schemes but you have to understand that it was far too important for his plan that he kept his image. I doubt he hurt anyone personally while he held the office, although he was capable of it. Or – until the end, at least.”

That part was far easier to accept than the part about Sith Lords. It made sense – the War was ending and the Republic was on the brink of collapse. All it needed was that final push. With everything in motion, what reason would he have to keep up the act?

But then, where exactly laid his mistake?

Clearly, at some stage his plan must have fallen apart. Sola assumed that ending under Anakin Skywalker’s blade was hardly the outcome he had wished for.

“What went wrong, then?” She asked. “I mean, you said he had everyone fooled.”

Padmé’s lips tightened in a line. She pushed her shopping bags to the side so she could lean on her knees.

“He miscalculated, I suppose. Sith Lord or not, he was only human.” There was almost a degree of pity to the way she said that. “I don’t know all the details from this point on but – well, something you have to know first is that he and Anakin were friends. Palpatine had always paid special attention to him  and I know Ani… thought highly of him. To say the least. He knew I wasn’t that fond of him towards the end so it was a topic we didn’t touch on much but I think he saw him as a father, almost. And… Palpatine must have counted on that – he revealed himself willingly. He probably assumed that Anakin would be on board but he wasn’t and well… at that point all he could do was try to remove the evidence, I suppose.”

It took Sola a moment to grasp what was being told.

“That’s… wow. That’s not how this story is told on the HoloNet.” Not that Sola put a lot of stock in what was being said there. But still… It was alarming to realize just how different the narrative was. She wanted to kick herself for not asking about this sooner.

“They like to put their spin on it.” Padmé agreed, with a tone that let them all know exactly what she thought about that. “Like you said, he was an old man. And to be fair, I think Anakin might have been the first to initiate the fight. He’s… not being exactly forthcoming on the details. Or – ugh, that’s unfair. I don’t know how to ask him in the first place, if I’m honest. All I know is that it wasn’t a clean fight – if there’s such a thing at all. When preparing for the trial, the investigation team put some details together and that’s the official story. At some point, they seem to have lost their lightsabers. Palpatine’s got cut in half and Anakin’s was found later on the lower levels. What killed Palpatine was a shard from the window – which they think might have gotten broken whenever Anakin’s lightsaber was tossed out but again, it’s unclear – and what nearly killed Anakin was strangulation mixed with electrical burns.”

Sola shuddered.

The way Padmé had delivered all of that was clinical, as if she was talking about something she’d read on the news and not the person who shared her bed every night. If this was an attempt to make a separation between the two, it failed because she was sure both of them still automatically pictured Anakin as they knew him in a domestic setting.

All at once, Sola was grateful for the life she’d led. It was average, perhaps, but far away from violence.

“Ouch . That sounds… painful.” And gruesome , though voicing that out loud felt insensitive. The mental image she was getting was of someone being choked by a live wire – and whether that had been the implication Padmé had been making or not, it was enough for her to decide that she did not want to know any more.

There was something deeply personal about that kind of violence; far more personal than a blaster shot. It didn’t paint the impression of triumph as much as it evoked a desperate struggle for survival. And she supposed it was personal for the two of them, if they were as close as her sister said.

She recalled Anakin's paranoia of hurting his children and her chest tightened with an uncomfortable feeling that this train of thought gave her. How quickly can you adjust from patricide to fatherhood? With an iron fist, she brushed that thought away. It felt like an intrusion of his privacy.

Padmé must have felt the same way. She shrugged, still looking troubled. Sola found herself with nothing to say to give her comfort, even though she was desperate to break the silence – what could she say? Padmé’s turmoil came from events which could not be changed and for every fact she recounted, there were probably a few fearful, lonely memories she did not voice. She wished, more than anything, that she could help her sister carry some of that burden.

“That’s what happened. I didn’t really think about it much. There were so many things to worry about and it mattered very little to me if Anakin has to deal with the indignity of living through it all, as long as he did live through it.” She frowned. “But these things, they wait for you. Even at the end of it, when all else is overcome, we’re still left to deal with the indignities.”

For a few peaceful moments, they just listened to the sound of the water fountain.

“I’m sorry.” Their mother eventually said, with heartfelt sorrow. “There is so much in your lives that I wish you wouldn’t have had to experience. I fear you’ve dealt with pain and death far more than you’ve seen of joy.”

This, Sola thought, was what she should have said instead of staying quiet.

Or perhaps not; it was hard to tell if any of that had any effect on Padmé at all. Her eyes were tight and distant. Her fingers drummed a steady beat along the sides of the fountain.

“I know how to deal with death. It doesn’t scare me. I’ve buried friends before – before the War and during it and it's true they were different people but the concept of burying something precious is, in the end, always the same. I… I thought it didn’t scare me.” There was a waver in her voice and she cut herself off sharply. Her chest rose and fell, even as she calmly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“But when Master Kenobi showed up at my apartment… I’ve heard about Ani and the Chancellor by that point, of course I did. I sat through the damn emergency meeting. But I – I was worrying about what would that mean for the Republic. I worried how I’d get him out of prison. I worried about the baby and that we’d both d – I didn’t know it was that bad until I saw how shaken Obi-Wan was. He… Anakin had commed him, from the Chancellor’s office. He doesn’t even remember doing it but it terrified Obi-Wan more than he’d be willing to admit, I could see it on his face. And I remember just… standing there, thinking ‘ What am I going to do now? What am I going to do?’”

She took a deep breath and rubbed her eyes angrily.

“Force, what am I doing now ? Today is supposed to be a good day and here I am, working myself up over nothing.”

“Padmé…” Jobal spoke patiently. “You’re doing what you should have done way back then already - talking to us. The grief is yours alone, that's true, but you don’t need to deal with it on your own. That’s why we’re here. Even if everything turned out well in the end, it doesn’t mean it wasn’t a scarring, terrifying experience and it eases the pain a little if you can share that, even if it's just with one person.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, there’s nothing to be sorry about.” Sola finally found her voice. Her hands fidgeted uselessly in her lap but she tried her hardest to keep her face reassuring. “I’m glad you’re telling us about all this now. Let’s just sit here for a while, right?”

They waited in silence as Padmé worked on composing herself and put back all the words that had almost spilled out.

It took her less time than it should have, all things considered. But then again, Padmé had always had the talent for feigning calmness she didn’t feel – in the end, she looked very much as if nothing was amiss at all. Her eyes were bright and the silk dress danced around her legs playfully as she kicked them in them. 

“But, you know, it’s not just my grief. Not really.” She said eventually. “I know something changed for Anakin – he’s… different. I can’t really put a finger on it, even though I can tell it feels significant. It’s just… I don’t know. I’ve been trying to give him time and I tried talking to him about it. But whatever I do, it seems to be the wrong thing. I thought coming here would help, and it did, it’s been wonderful for me but…”

But not for Anakin , Sola guessed. It was understandable. For Padmé, it was the place of her fondest childhood memories, her second home. She had her family with her. But for him, it would be just a place – no, that wasn’t quite right. She remembered the conversation she had with him; that day in the gardens.

It wouldn’t be meaningless, to him. Not when it was so meaningful to Padmé. Sola knew very little of the man but she thought as much was obvious.

“Quite honestly, Padmé, this is far above my paygrade but I don’t think you necessarily have to do anything. He idealizes you, you know. I think he’ll figure it out, for your sake, if not for his own.”

Unexpectedly, Padmé didn’t try denying it.

“I know he does.” Her acceptance was a sigh of resignation, as if that was something she'd been aware for a long time. “And I know he will. He always figures it out in the end. I just wish everything was less complicated. Just… everything to do with Palpatine and with the Republic.”

“The passage of time has a way of making things simpler. Just because things aren't clear to you now, it doesn't mean they won't ever get any clearer,” their mother offered.

Padmé stopped drumming her fingers. Her head dropped in gratitude, a humbleness Sola hadn't seen in many years.

“I know,” she repeated. Then, evidently finished with the conversation, she jumped to her feet and offered their mother a hand. “But speaking of time, we don’t have all the time in the world. Come on, I’ll need you to help me find those servoprocessors.”

Chapter Text

Dusk had already settled over the landscape by the time they returned home. At some point during the day, the charming cocktail of bright lights and exhaustion had given Sola a headache – this, too, was reminiscent of her childhood memories. The outing had lit a pleasant sort of warmth in her chest but she was ready for it to be over now so she could take a painkiller, lie down and either sleep if she was lucky, or – if she wasn't – lie there and think about the things she had learned. 

Her dreams didn't survive the crash with reality. 

Sola was helping her mother unload the saplings while Padmé snuck ahead with the feeble excuse that she would send Threepio to carry some of the bags. In the end, it was Ryoo and Pooja who crowded the speeder, rushing to discover what she'd brought them from the Mall. They were ferocious little beasts when they set their minds on something; and quite efficient with their teamwork too.

Once inside, her headache intensified with the shrill noise of wailing babies echoing from Padmé’s study and all the way downstairs. 

“I see someone’s getting a pleasant homecoming.”

Pooja made a face. 

“They won’t shut up. It’s been hours .” She said this with the weariness of a nine-year old who had been forced, by cruel circumstances, to exercise far too much patience. Then, just as quickly, the sourness vanished from her short attention span. “Hey, did you remember to get the Rainbow Hutt-worms?”

Sola had, indeed, spent a considerable time looking for those gummies. Padmé and their mother had managed to finish their business at the gardening and tech department before she finished with groceries. 

“They’re somewhere in the bags. You will find them very quickly if you help to unpack.” This did not delight Pooja but she knew the rules. 

Another wave of screeching made it downstairs. Sola winced – as much as she loved her niece and nephew, she hoped someone thought to move them into the partially soundproof nursery soon.

“Rather strange.” Her mother commented as she delivered her bags on the living room couch. “They don’t usually cry at this time.”

“Grandpa said they might be teething.” Ryoo divulged this information readily, as if she was just waiting for someone to ask. “They’re not hungry or anything. Just grumpy for no reason.”

“Ah, the moods. I certainly don’t miss that part.” They said that motherhood made you look at the bad parts with rose tinted glasses once they passed, but even then, Sola had recently come to learn that she had been objectively lucky. Neither of her girls had half the fighting spirit of the Skywalker twins – not when it came to appetite and certainly not when it came to the tantrums.

‘At least they’re lively ’ Padmé had said at a certain point but the inflection of it had been carefully neutral, as if she was clinging desperately to some silver lining. It would have been less of a struggle for her to admit out loud that she wished that her children were less challenging; but of course she would never actually say that.

Some people, Sola mused, simply had life give them difficulties at every turn and after a certain point they get far too used to the constant battles. Weathering the problems becomes a point of pride, then. 

Still, it was rather early for the twins to start teething. Not entirely unprecedented for human infants and she wouldn’t put it past these infants in particular to rush ahead of their peers, but it still all seemed rather unlikely.

Half out of pity, half out of curiosity Sola found herself walking up there to at least offer a hand only to pause at the door. The wailing almost entirely swallowed the hushed conversation of the parents; but with that buffer, she got the feeling that she would be intruding.

“–sorry. I tried everything, I don’t know what–”

Sola picked up Anakin speaking before his voice was overpowered.

A shadow fell across the hallway as someone walked past the lightsource. 

“–fine.” She heard Padmé speaking. “They’re perfectly healthy.” 

There was a shuffle of feet that she understood now was Anakin pacing but if there was a response, it couldn’t be heard over the crying.

“ –I’m back now, though. Nothing happened. You can’t seriously expect me to never go anywhere just because you –”

Ah, Sola mouthed and carefully backed off, keeping her steps as light as possible. She had the strange impression of being six and walking into her parents arguing. Some things, she supposed, were just a part of trying to live as half of a pair. Marriage was an art of trying to find a cohesion; this was true even in the best circumstances.

And the stars had certainly not been kind to Padmé’s marriage –  who could judge them for still trying to find their footing? Sola certainly didn’t think herself capable.

Eventually, the twins must have either tired or been moved to the nursery because by the time Sola was done showering and dressing for bed, the villa was quiet. Ryoo and Pooja were in their rooms by now, probably enjoying the gifts they received, and her parents were probably asleep – just like Sola should be, if she knew what was good for her.

Tomorrow her mother was planning to start planting the saplings she had purchased. It was going to be hard labour – while the earth at Varykino was soft and gave easily but everyone who had ever helped Jobal Naberrie decorate anything knew that the real struggle was the instructions, not the work itself. Sola loved her mother dearly but she was a horrible micromanager. 

Still, someone would have to do the work and it wasn’t going to be her elderly parents.

Rather against the expectations, Padmé had suggested Anakin.

“You shouldn’t pity him. He’ll hate that.” She had said when her mother expressed her reluctance at asking him to do physical labour. “ I’d also rather he sat back and listened to what the doctors told him, but I know that would make him miserable. He needs to feel useful or he gets uneasy.”

Sola supposed Padmé did know him best but she’d be a bad sister-in-law and a worse daughter if she didn’t make an effort to assist in some way. 

It was convenient, anyhow. She’d like to talk to him more. At some point during her reflections she had realized how little she truly knew about Anakin once she did away with the preconceived notions. It was an uncomfortable realization – she recalled thinking he was distant but if Sola was truthful, she hadn’t made much of an effort to connect with him either. Everything had been filtered through Padmé and her worry for her.

This had been a massive oversight. 

Even if Padmé was her main concern, the stories overlapped. 

Perhaps that had been the root of the issue; the real reason she had tried to avoid it at first. This was the first time their family had a newcomer but well… Sola had been aware it would happen one day. And whomever Padmé would have ended choosing would ultimately end up bringing parts of their own life with them. Families share, after all.

Usually that meant little things like habits, pets, extended family, but even without needing to ask, she understood that it would be different with Anakin. It was undefinable, just an itch in the back of her mind, but something about Anakin just carried the promise of illumination of corners that you’d rather never lay eyes on. It was not that he had the air of someone with a lot of insight. Whatever it was that he had was a lot more disconnected from who he was as a person but it lingered all over him all the same; like a washed-out filter even in the midst of all the vibrant colours of Naboo. That was the kind of heaviness she was hesitant to confront – mostly because she had no idea what to do with it. 

Well, she attempted to promise herself, this was something she could work with.

Eventually. 

Ideally when her brains weren’t trying to dig their way out of her skull, by the feeling of it. With a sigh, she pulled her pillow from underneath her head and pressed it against her forehead with as much force as she could muster. For a few moments it almost worked; but then again, that might have been just the cool fabric. 

To think that Chancellor Palpatine had been… what exactly? A supernatural horror? The unforeseen continuation of some long-forgotten evil? She couldn’t tell why that unsettled her so much.

Or perhaps she could – it was the ice cold sensation of realizing you’ve been in contact with an apex predator without a shred of awareness of the danger you were in. Sola had never experienced it herself as such – the closest she’d ever came was taking a Basics of Urbanism class with a man who would later go on to murder his family in their sleep – but some buried human instict let her understand that feeling quite well.

Her breathing was warming up the pillow. In the pitch darkness, she counted moments through each movement of her chest.

Those, at least she knew she could trust. 

It was silly to get so worked out over this. Sola hadn’t even known Palpatine personally.

It just stung because once upon a time – after the Trade Federation blockade – the people of Naboo had looked at that man and seen hope. She remembered the euphoria of that moment so well, she could almost taste the cheap wine she and her classmates had gotten drunk on in the aftermath. And to think that under that facade wasn’t just opportunism and corruption; it was worse. Sola couldn’t explain how and why but it was worse. The fact that that kindly old man was capable of violence disturbed her.

She couldn’t tell when she fell asleep. One moment, she was lying in the darkness and thinking about just how many things she’d been ignorant of and the next, light was streaming through the windows and her mouth was dry.

Her headache, blessedly, was gone.

〰 〰 〰 〰 〰 

The air outside her windows was rainy and surprisingly cool for Lake Country summers. Sola only belatedly remembered that they had been promising a weather change for a while. This certainly offered another explanation for her headache the previous night – the change in air pressure always caused her troubles.

Even now she felt strangely detached from her body as she made her way to the dining room. An unusual quiet had settled over her thoughts that reminded her of the scent of wet earth in the aftermath of a thunderstorm. Some kaff would help that; and she had the whole day to be sleepy. With weather like that, she doubted they’d be doing any gardening.

When she arrived, the breakfast table was empty aside from her mother and Pooja. Her daughter was happily munching on her boiled peko-peko eggs, kicking her legs with a dancer’s rhythm. This was a habit that tested the limits of Sola’s patience on some early mornings when each sound felt like an assault on her ears, but vacation gave her the grace to simply find it endearing.

“Morning, sweetheart.” She drew her fingers through her hair distractedly before her mind caught up to it. Then she did a double take. “I’m not late, am I? Where is everyone?”

Her mother passed her a cup of kaff and Sola accepted it with wordless gratitude. It was no longer that warm but that was not much of an issue; her mother’s kaff was delicious either way because Jobal Naberrie believed in buying only the finest mixtures, sparing no expense.

“They’re watching the news.” Her mother’s face said what exactly she thought about that. “There’s anti-Jedi protests on Coruscant because of the accident with the Kaminoans. What’s the point of following that live? There’s going to be summaries later, they could at least bother to have breakfast like a proper civilized family.”

Sola waited until she finished her kaff before she dared to speak up.

“Protests? Over the Kaminoan assassination attempt? That seems like a somewhat strange reaction. I know the Jedi aren’t popular right now but surely people can still tell that the actions of one individual don’t define the whole Order.”

Given what Palpatine had planned for the Jedi, the public’s continuous dislike for them didn’t sit well with Sola. She helped herself to some fruit and tried to keep it out of her mind. Had she not worried enough? She was an architect, not a politician or a law enforcer. Her life was clean and pleasant; all this was out of her comfort zone.

Her mother seemed to be on the same page. She leaned back in her chair and crossed one leg over the other; formal and disinterested.

“The Jedi representative to the Senate announced earlier today that they would be exercising the right to withhold the assassin’s identity from the public and that they intend to handle the matter internally. This is what triggered the reaction, I think.” 

“They can do that?”

“There’s a clause in the section on the autonomy of the Order that allows it. You should ask your father more about it, I don’t know the specifics. But from what I did understand, it’s only permitted under specific criteria and the situation with Kamino falls under the gray legal area.” 

Sola observed her mother carefully. This seemed like the kind of political intrigue which would fire up Padmé or their father. Jobal Naberrie, on the other hand, preferred not to stress over some nebulous political ramifications that would never reach their family. In this sense, she was oftentimes a more reliable gauge for how serious things were.

And right now, she clearly thought this was less important than the ongoing negotiations with the Separatists. 

“I see. But in the current political climate, how is that what people are focusing on?”

“It’s ‘cuz they have bantha poodoo for brains.” Pooja chirped cheerfully.

Sola nearly choked on her grapes.

“Young lady, what kind of language is this?” Jobal sent Sola an annoyed look, as if this was somehow her fault.

“I didn’t teach her that.” Sola croaked through a coughing fit, trying to go for defensive and ending up falling flat.

“But Auntie said it earlier.” 

“Right.” She cleared her throat again until her voice sounded normal. “Right. Well, your aunt is an adult and can say what she wants but you shouldn’t always imitate her. I don’t even know when she started swearing in… what was that, Huttese? Either way, it’s inappropriate, okay?”

Pooja shied away from reproach. Her kicking stopped, replaced by a mullish pout.

“...I’m gonna go try the new painting set.”

Sola watched her go with a frown.

“You know, on these occasions, I start wondering what exactly my children are growing into. She didn’t even take her plate to the sink.”

“Teenagers.” Now that the subject of her scolding was no longer nearby, her mother sounded more amused than scandalized. 

“Shiraya, I hope not. She’s eight, by all rights it should be Ryoo giving me attitude. But Pooja did always have the worse temper between the two of them.”

“You can hardly expect them to be identical. You and Padmé don’t exactly have similar temperaments either.”

They really didn’t – between the two of them, Sola had always been the mellow one.

“Point taken.” She scooted closer in her chair and braced herself against the table with her elbows. “So, I’m taking it Padmé is not in the best mood today either, then. She doesn’t have a lot of patience for politics lately.”

Not to mention, she hardly expected her sister to be in a stellar mood after the little spat yesterday – and who knew when the twins actually stopped crying and fell asleep. 

Her mother had an entirely different take though.

“It’s to be expected that she’s frustrated about being unable to do anything about it. It’s a big adjustment. I can’t fault her for it but I wish she didn’t try so hard to pretend that’s not the case.” She made a gesture as if waving it off. “It’s Padmé’s business though. She says she made her decisions willfully and that she truly wanted this outcome. She’ll figure out what kind of domesticity works for her.”

Sola had noticed a little about that. It was one of those fringe worries for her; the concerns she did not have a true basis for and thus pushed out of her mind. It first appeared when she was helping Padmé and Anakin discuss their future house. There were many logical explanations for why they had no idea what they wanted but… 

Throughout her years in that field, she had noted that usually people tend to imagine their ideal home along with their ideal lifestyle. When they’re not sure about one, it’s because they’re trying to avoid thinking about the other.

It was probably more than a little difficult for two people with jobs that took over their entire lives to consider a future without them – but you could only keep running blindly for so long without getting mildly frustrated. 

“To be honest, in this case, I can understand why she’s worked up. The way the public reacts to the Jedi… Palpatine has been pretty good with the propaganda during the War. It sickens me how close the Republic got to silently accepting a genocide.”

Those involved in the conspiracy hadn’t received the chance to carry it out, in the end, but that didn’t make it any better. These protests were proof of it.

“It’s ubiquitous.” Her mother agreed. “Even a few of your aunties have fallen for it. I had to remind them that our Padmé married a Jedi.”

Sola made a face. 

“Yeah? How’d they take that?”

Her mother made a vaguely displeased expression but avoided saying anything as if gossip was beneath her. It was a trait that people generally found admirable but just sometimes, Sola wished her mother could be a little bit pettier. She’d love to know exactly what her nosier relatives thought about her sister’s little scandal.

It wasn’t that she disliked her aunties – most of them were fairly pleasant, if a little overwhelming. But on a couple occasions when someone could stand to be knocked down a peg, both her parents prefered to look away.

She supposed that ultimately she was much the same. That was why she’d always appreciated when Padmé intervened on her behalf – her sister was not afraid of disagreeing with anyone.

“They want to meet the twins.” Her mother said instead, inspecting her nails. “I was going to mention it to Padmé but perhaps today isn’t the… right moment for that.”

No kidding, Sola wanted to say but nobly abstained.

“Mom, if I’m being completely honest, that sounds like a horrible idea. They can be a bit…” She made a grimace and a jerky motion with her head to finish off her thought. 

“I’ll ask them not to bring up politics or recent events. They’re not tone deaf, they can understand that she’s under a lot of stress.” The way her mother said it, she clearly thought it ought to have been a given.

Sola frowned, not so certain.

“She’ll be under even more stress with visitors.” She pointed out. “Why push so hard for this?”

“I just think it’ll do her good to socialize a little and get more used to life on Naboo. A little bit of… how to say this? A bit of civilian perspective.”

Well, Sola couldn’t argue that. Some gossip could go a long way when it came to building familiarity. And Padmé had agreed that she needed some socialization.

Still…

“You just want to show off the twins,” she teased. “Admit it. The reactions to those onesies were addicting and now you crave more.”

Jobal rolled her eyes.

“Sure. Help me clean up the table, would you?”

Once she was done helping with the chores, Sola wasted no time in getting out of there before she might be asked to do anything else.

“I’ll go check out the news to see what’s so interesting about it. Don’t worry, I’ll pick up the dishes there while I’m at it.”

Her mother wiped her hands on the towel.

“Suit yourself. Today’s going to be a rather slow day anyway. I might just go and try to finish my knitting project.”

She was, as far as Sola knew, knitting baby socks for the twins, but whether they’d get finished at any point before Luke and Leia started school remained to be seen. Somehow, Sola would put her money on a firm ‘no’, given how the projects she’d started for Ryoo and Pooja respectively were still incomplete.

〰 〰 〰 〰 〰 

The moment she left the room, she could tell the change in the mood. Even if she hadn’t known the layout of the villa, she thought she would have been able to find her way to the living room by blindly following the atmospheric pull. It was just like how air moves in the direction of low pressure; except in this case, it was rather the other way around. 

When she arrived, the room was quiet with the exception of the distressed looking Twi’lek reporter who seemed to regret her job more and more with every moment. Her father shifted to make some room for her on the couch but other than that, there was no acknowledgement. 

She didn’t take it to heart.

On the projector, the footage shifted almost too quickly to follow as if the editorial department wanted to fit in every possible angle, regardless of how infeasible it was. It took a lot of attention to keep up with it. 

There were protests all over Coruscant: bright, clever protest signs in front of the Senate building and at the steps of the Jedi Temple and smoke-filled, chaotic marches on the Lower Levels. It was not a pleasant sight – once you looked past the surface shine of Coruscant, every problem that the Republic was facing politically seemed to be plainly evident.

A sign calling for justice for Palpatine made her wince but she found it didn’t inspire anger, not even the distant muted kind she saved for injustices that didn’t concern her. She simply could not be angry at it. Or at anyone at these protests.

It had been the faces that got to her. These people weren’t evil, or vicious – she saw clearly that they were confused and fearful. It was understandable, to some extent. They had lived in fear for years; and then out of nowhere the leader they’d put their faith in had been murdered. All the answers they had were given too late in the aftermath, only spreading the confusion. And on top of that – Anakin’s trial had not been broadcast publically. Even Sola, who had interacted with him in person, had assumed that him being acquitted on the basis of self defense had been a sham.

That was what was wrong with the Republic. The affairs of the rich and the influential were completely inaccessible to everyone who was not .

And the Jedi, of course…

They were a rare political group that consisted mostly of people who were not born into wealth; but even before the War and the propaganda, they were distrusted by some for how… detached they were, for the lack of other words. Brought up from early childhood within the Order, they would always be seen as somewhat of outsiders in every culture. Even the one they were born to.

Sola rubbed her arms, shaking off a despondent chill that crept out of nowhere. 

That, she thought, was exactly how the Republic she grew up in could go on to silently accept a genocide. The metaphorical bomb might have not gone off, but it was not quite disarmed either. The fuse was still there, waiting for a spark to light it up.

The bleakness of her thoughts took her by surprise. The longer she watched, the more the silence seemed to suck the air out of the room, until all that was left was the uncompromising, solutionless problem unveiling on the projector. She hoped desperately for the comfort of someone else’s perspective but all she saw were clenched jaws and frowns.

At its peak, it felt like the silence itself was waiting for it too; something to finish it off.

Eventually, her father stood up heavily with a huff and left the room – only to return soon after, balancing a plate with four steaming cups of herbal tea.

“I always found that some refreshment could make all the difference during long Senate sessions,” he explained, passing them along. “When you’re dealing with the abstract, it’s important to not forget about the here and now.”

This small act burst the bubble.

“Sabé and I had this little tea place on Coruscant,” Padmé mused, sitting up from her reclined position so she could stir in some sugar. “I’d love to show you one day. I think you’d love it.”

Her attempt to keep a light conversation was valiant. Padmé had that rare air of kindness; when she shared some idle, positive thought, it felt like she meant it. Or most of the time, it did. Right now, her determination was slightly hindered by the hesitant look she threw back at the projector, where the reporter was sticking a microphone into a protester’s face. 

Eager to get rid of the sticky feeling that had crawled into her bones, Sola elected to help her out a little.

“There’s a new dinner in Theed you might want to check out once you move there, then. The location is pretty secluded which I really appreciate when I’m trying to do some work.”

“You’ll have to show me.”

They sat politely in silence, unsure what to say, until one of the twins started fussing.

“I’ve got it,” Anakin yawned and stretched like a loth-cat just when Padmé started putting down her cup with a face of tired resignation. The twins were resting in a crib next to the sofa, well within his arms reach so he didn’t need to bother standing up. Then, mid-motion, he froze with a look of deep contemplation. 

“What is it?” Padmé twisted her neck trying to catch a look.

Anakin visibly debilitated on something; he squinted and tilted his head as if simultaneously trying to see something far away and trying to listen in on something very quiet.

“...she’s hungry.”

“Again? I just fed her, what – an hour ago?” Her sister groaned but she spread her arms anyway. “Well, give her here then.”

Giving her the privacy, Sola averted her gaze slightly but she couldn’t bite back the curiosity.

“So, can you just tell because of the Jedi telepathy thing? That has to come in handy.”

“You’d think it would, but children this young don’t have fully developed thoughts. Most of the time they’re not really aware what ’s bothering them, just that they’re uncomfortable.” Having passed over Leia, he leaned back against the couch and pressed a hand over his eyes. Now that she was paying attention, Sola could see the clear signs that neither of them got much rest last night – but at least Padmé hadn’t already looked half dead the previous day.

“Still, that’s more than the rest of us have.”

“Count that as a blessing.” The hand on his face muffled his voice but not the tone. “They’re always uncomfortable in some way. As long as they don’t feel strongly enough about it to start making noise, I think I’d rather just not know.”

“I… can see that.”

Sparing a brief look at Leia, Sola felt her lips twitch with amusement at the way she was dressed. On top of her fluffy onesie, someone had clearly seen fit to add a jacket and the bright, atrocious Mon Calamari themed beanie hat Padmé had received as a gift from Prince Lee-Char. 

There really was nothing like first time parents overreacting at the slight drop in temperatures – sure, it was raining and the air outside had cooled somewhat from the unbearable summer heat, but it was not cold by any means. With the exception of Anakin, everyone else was still comfortable in short sleeves and even he had elected to swap one of his layers for a scarf.

She was debating bringing it up when her father – bless his heart – did it for her.

“I can’t help but notice that they’re – uh – dressed very warmly . Are you sure she isn’t just overheated?”

Padmé looked down at her daughter as if noticing her outfit for the first time. Taking the brief moment to send her husband a glance of mild exasperation, she smoothed her face back into perfect neutrality.

“Well, they were very worked up yesterday and Anakin started browsing the HoloNet and read it could be a cold.”

Sola blinked.

“It’s summer.”

“There was a draft.” Anakin defended half-heartedly, looking like he might sink into the couch at any given moment if questioned further. 

“In some Outer Rim worlds, it’s a common superstition that a draft is detrimental to health, no matter the season,” Padmé translated with endless indulgence, managing to communicate that while she might personally find it extremely stupid, she would not be saying anything of such. “Still, it did cool down a bit today and I thought it wouldn’t hurt to be careful. They don’t seem too bothered, in any case. Leia just eats less during feeding time, I think, so she gets hungry more often.”

That much was true; now that Leia was getting fed, both the twins seemed deceptively calm. Looking at her niece’s tiny, chubby face, she’d have never guessed that the two of them could produce the unholy wailing from yesterday.

“I’m guessing they’re not actually teething then,” Sola mused. “It did seem a little soon.”

“Lucky us.” Padmé sat Leia against her knee to burp her. With her eyes downcast, the undereye shadows were that much more evident. “Now we get to anticipate it in the next few months. I’d rather just get it over with, honestly.”

“That’s the joys of parenting, dear. Believe it or not, you’ll look back at it fondly one day,” their father said, not unkindly. 

On the projector, the reporter announced that their team contacted a bunch of Senators who were willing to comment on the events. Whatever Padmé might have said in response to that vanished from her mind; Sola could pinpoint the moment when her attention moved from Leia and onto the news. The soft exhaustion melted into something firmer, more distant as if the ability to focus on the simple, peaceful devotion was suddenly snatched away from her.

Her father was speaking from his own experience and he meant well, but he was willfully forgetting an important difference between his memories and the present.

“Here, let me take her.” Anakin seemed to register Padmé’s distraction. Her sister passed Leia with a complicated mixture of guilt and relief.

“Thanks. I’m sorry, this is just…” She trailed off, frowning at the projector.

“It’s your job.” He shrugged, shifting so that the baby’s head would have better support. 

For a former Jedi, Sola noted he seemed surprisingly unperturbed. Now that he had Leia in his lap, he was more occupied with her than with the blue-tinted holograms. He tickled her nose with the edges of his scarf until she had enough and yanked hard with her tiny fists – at which point he just switched to the other end of the scarf. Sola thought that was quite a risky move, given how irritable these infants were, but somehow he seemed to know that it’d amuse her rather than set her off.

Padmé raised an absent-minded eyebrow.

“It was my job. It was your job too. I wonder how Obi-Wan is doing…” She trailed off suggestively, apparently making some kind of point.

Whatever that point was, Anakin apparently didn’t appreciate it. He scowled and comically, Leia seemed to mimic it.

“As if the public’s darling will have any problems. They adore him for dealing with Grievous.”

That was the precise moment that Sola realized that the Obi-Wan Kenobi the two of them would sometimes name-drop was the same exact Jedi Master Kenobi who had killed General Grievous and ended the War. 

Right, she recalled. The Negotiator. It made a lot of sense suddenly; when she had first stalked her newfound brother-in-law on the HoloNet, Sola had noted that the two of them used to appear on the news together more often than not. The media had made them out to be these great friends – but pointedly, when the chips came down, the news hadn’t missed that they’d been on vastly different assignments. Given what Anakin had done, that had been a fuel for speculation regarding just what Master Kenobi thought of his friend’s actions.

But according to Padmé, Anakin had commed Master Kenobi in the immediate aftermath, even though the man must have been on the other side of the galaxy at the time and could neither help nor provide the medical attention he must have needed. How that trust fit with his disdain now, Sola didn’t know. Those were two puzzle pieces, certainly, but she had no idea what the puzzle itself was even supposed to be. 

“Do you think that the Order might send Master Kenobi to make some sort of placating statement, then?” Her father asked, stroking his chin with thought. “They could use some good publicity.”

“I doubt it,” Anakin said and didn’t elaborate.

Warily, he went back to playing with Leia and the rest of them went back to watching the Senators posture on the news. Sola didn’t recognize any of them but judging by the slight twitches of her face, Padmé knew each and every one of them.

“-the people certainly have the right to demand accountability and transparency. If the Prime Minister Lama Su presses charges, I could see the Senate introducing a bill on changing the autonomy laws,” one Senator, a human male concluded, looking satisfied with himself.

“It’s truly troubling. Even the Senate was not given a full account. The Jedi are lacking transparency in this – it doesn’t instill trust,” the second one agreed. “Their Representative stated that the attack was caused as a result of a mental health crisis. The War is to blame for that.”

“Their members seem to have mental health crises quite often,” the first one butted in again. “Does that give them a pass to commit treason? Moreover, isn’t that another argument for improving Republic jurisdiction?”

The third one, a Chagrian, cleared his throat to announce his intent to speak.

“While I agree with my esteemed colleagues, I would go further and say that this isn’t a problem simply with the Jedi, though their case might be the most concerning currently – there are theories, you see, about who really planted those chips. Most of the orders on there had little to do with exterminating the Jedi. In fact, one of them explicitly called for the extermination of the Supreme Chancellor himself. Not that I believe in those, of course… But it is extremely convenient that a Jedi killed the Chief Medical Scientist from Kamino before they could stand in Court.” He cleared his throat again. 

“But I’m getting off-track here, forgive me. What I meant to say was that even the Republic institutions are not free of corruption. There are many obstacles to our pursuit of justice – many obstacles that need to be removed, certainly. Just remember, it was the Republic Military Court that let Skywalker walk. Of course, th-”

Padmé had switched the channels, cutting him off.

“Bail’s supposed to make a speech soon,” she stated lightly. “I promised him I’d watch and give him feedback.”

Anakin shot her an annoyed look – apparently he’d been paying more attention than Sola had guessed. 

“I really wanted to hear what he had to say about me,” he complained.

“Don’t you have enough grudges?”

“Evidently not, or I’d at least know what this one’s name is.”

“That’s Senator Nezya Kolmann.” Her father sounded weary. “We worked together before, when he was still an aide to his predecessor. To think that he’d be spreading conspiracy theories at times like these…”

“It’s the whole lot of them, truly. Are they trying to make things worse, or what?” Sola questioned angrily.

“It was to be expected that they’d volunteer to speak with the media only if they have an agenda to push. That’s the standard,” Padmé slid the remote back on the table and leaned back against the pillows. Her head was turned away, watching her daughter; or perhaps her husband, Sola could not see.

“Isn’t that dangerous?”

“Not for them.”

“I’m not so sure about that. Depending on which direction the Senate takes with a new Chancellor, they could lose their careers for this,” her father mused.

“Their careers? How terrible.” Anakin couldn’t sound drier if he tried – but he had a point, Sola thought. There were far worse consequences out there, unfolding on people who deserved them far less.

“It’s as close to justice as it gets. Back in my day, we – me and a few others – dreamed of changing that. And I’m sure that before us, others hoped for the same.” Her father shook his head. “It’s always like that when you’re young. You hope you can move the world if you just put enough force on the axis, and then age catches up to you. I see now that whole lives unfold like that, without changing a thing.”

“That’s a happy thought.”

Sola had not meant to say it out loud but her father fortunately didn’t mind it. He smiled at her, a slight fond turn of his lips. 

“You’ll have to forgive an old man, dear. It’s just… the weather today lends to pessimism, doesn’t it?”

“Certainly,” She agreed, knowing that was not it. “It’s horrid. If I wanted rain, I’d vacation in the southern hemisphere instead.”

This whole speech was not that discouraging to her – she had never sought to change the world. Just finding her own place in it and making peace with the way things were was enough for Sola.

But it had to land differently with Padmé – and with Anakin. 

Sola waited until Senator Organa finished his speech, partly out of solidarity and partly out of curiosity. He was addressing the Senate over the Reparations Bill and urging them to prioritize unity. The overwhelmingly positive reception of his speech washed away some of the bitter aftertaste the previous events had given her.

The discussions with the Separatists, at least, seemed to be moving somewhere. The threat of another war had somewhat cooled down, though the part of her that couldn’t quite shake the growing belief that things could only ever get worse wondered how long that’d last.

Ultimately though, she didn’t care enough to stick around for the discussion about the budget and the economy. 

“Oh well,” she patted her knees, mindful not to wake up Leia who had just fallen asleep and had been swiftly moved back to the crib. “I completely forgot that I originally came here to pick up the dishes. Come on, hand over the mugs.”

This startled Padmé, who only now seemed to remember her tea. It had to be cold and disgusting by now – and her face after drinking it in one shot certainly proved that.

“Thanks. The plates are over there on the floor.”

“Yes, I noticed. You’re lucky I came to pick them up and not Mom or you’d have to explain what exactly is wrong with our table.”

There were four cups – and three plates. Sola was calculating if taking a single trip was worth the risk of breaking something but it turned out she didn’t need to.

“Let me help with that,” Anakin was already on his feet and offering a hand. He needs to feel useful , Padmé had said and apparently she was not wrong with her assessment. 

Sola was not about to deny him, if that was the case – but then she noticed that he was still standing at the same spot, slightly unbalanced and blinking away dizziness. 

Her sister pulled him back on the couch by wrapping her arms around his waist.

“Or maybe you shouldn’t.” She gave him a questioning glance, her brows crunched with what couldn’t be anything but deep concern.

“It’s fine,” he snapped tensely, untangling her grip. “I’m fine. Just stood up too quickly. It happens.”

He didn’t look fine though. He looked ill. His face was all sharp lines – almost gaunt in comparison to the holos of him from a few months back. These days, his eyes were always ined with bruised dark skin and sunken into their sockets. The scars – the ones he left visible – stood out sharply.

This was not a recent development, by any means. He’d looked somewhat in poor health since the first time Sola laid eyes on him at that desolate spaceport in Theed. But on this occasion, the shadows under his eyes seemed a little darker than usual and his cheeks a little shallower.

“You should get some rest. The kids are sleeping and there’s nothing to do today,” Padmé coaxed. “Take advantage of it.”

It bounced off him like water off a peko-peko bird. He pulled himself back to his feet, this time with all the confidence one would expect from him and pressed a kiss to her cheek to placate her – seemingly an afterthought.

“Ah, but how can I rest when there’s dishes to be done?” 

“I’ll do the dishes, really, you don’t need to-” Sola tried but he wasn’t listening. The plates flew from her grip, pulled by an invisible force in pursuit of his swift exit; presumably, in effort to preserve his dignity which was entirely defeated by his half-hearted attempt at a salute. 

It’d have passed as mischievous if it wasn’t so obviously a deflection.

She dropped her arms in defeat, oddly tempted to feel the air in front of her.

“I’ll never get used to this.” She eyed her sister carefully, noting the intricacies of her expression. “So, is he… I mean.”

Padmé pinched the bridge of her nose.

“He’s stubborn for no reason, that’s what he is. Don’t worry about it.”

Her father cleared his throat.

“Well, I don’t mean to presume and given what was going on with the children, I didn’t think much of it but I don’t remember seeing him at mealtimes yesterday. That can’t be helping.”

Three plates and four cups, Sola remembered.

“I figured,” Padmé sounded more displeased than surprised. “I mean it though, he’s a grown man, he can take care of himself so don’t worry about it. It’s just – food’s been an issue because of the…” She made an off-hand gesture at her throat.

“Oh.” Sola made a grimace and then tried unsuccessfully to smooth it away before Padmé saw it.

“There’s nothing to be done for it?” Her father questioned.

“The doctors said the pain’s chronic. It’s just an adjustment, that’s all. He’ll adjust, at his own pace. Some days happen to be more difficult, I suppose. I don’t want to push him.”

She pursed her lips and tilted her head, indicating that she didn’t want to discuss it further. 

Sola found that unusually selfish from her. She said not to worry – but she clearly worried herself. It was like she wanted to hoard all of the concern for herself and not allow her family a foot through that door. Her father gave her a look, silently telling her to let it be.

“Anyway, what were you saying about that loan again?”

Frustrated, Sola wiped her hands on her skirt.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it. I’m going to try and get some work done before lunch, I guess.”

〰 〰 〰 〰 〰 

Under her mother’s watchful eyes, lunch was a calm affair. 

Sola had seen Anakin passed out on the sofa on her way to the dining room so she was not surprised that he was not present – apparently, attempting to watch the trade route negotiations had done what Padmé could not. Knowing her mother, she’d probably save some leftovers for him so Sola had elected to let him sleep.

Instead, it was Padmé who was unaccounted for. 

She showed up halfway through the meal with both twins and a peculiar expression.

“Sorry, sorry. I know I’m late, I had a comm call.”

“Anything serious?” Their mother asked, wasting no time on filling Padmé’s plate. “Not to worry, we won’t run out of food. You missed the soup though, I’m afraid.”

This was considerably permissive from a woman who was so notoriously strict about her routines. Whatever she and Padmé had discussed had softened something in their mother just a little bit. Not that there was much that needed softening in the first place – as far as Sola was concerned, the sternness was mostly just for show. 

“That’s fine, I’m not that fond of pea soup anyway.” 

She very elegantly dodged the other question, Sola noted. As did, apparently, their father.

“So, about that comm call…” he prodded, amused.

“Oh,” Padmé exclaimed, as if she just remembered. Her eyes tightened. “Right. No, it was nothing important. I just lost track of time.”

Sola kept eating and said nothing. She was not the people person that Padmé was – she couldn’t reliably read them like that. But one thing that she recognized and would always recognize was her sister’s face when she lied.

〰 〰 〰 〰 〰 

The rest of her day was unexpectedly productive. 

She’d been struck by an idea at some point while listening to Padmé recount the budget discussions over dinner, after the girls had gone to sleep. The Republic had found itself with a ton of useless spacecraft built specifically for war – useless, because after the Clones had been let go, they wouldn’t have enough men to crew those, even if war happened to break out again. And any volunteer recruits would have to be trained to use all of the equipment first, which according to Padmé would be a bigger drain on the resources than simply getting rid of the ships.

Sola had told herself to not get ahead of herself there but she couldn’t help the excitement after reviewing some of the warship design plans she could find publicly accessible on the HoloNet. She’d have to discuss it with Geeb, draw a workable first draft and pitch it to the Queen but – right now, the concept of building the monument entirely out of used war equipment seemed feasible.

Rainy days, she decided, were good. There was no agenda, nothing to do except… exist. Somehow that did wonders for her creativity.

She would take it all back the next morning when she looked out of her window and it was still raining.

She watched a movie with her daughters, did the laundry for the entire household, helped her father move a few bookshelves in the library, worked on her designs, gave a hand with all the chores, read a book and still found herself with nothing to do by mid-afternoon.

That was when her mother decided to ask Padmé if she’d let Artoo transfer her wedding holos to the family album and somehow that escalated into all of them enduring a trip down the Naberrie family memory lane.

Well, she amended, enduring was a harsh word. It was perfectly enjoyable when it didn’t happen to be Sola’s embarrassing childhood holos being shown.

The holographic image of six year old Padmé with pigtails, missing teeth and chocolate ice cream all over her face was a delight, for one.

“I swear, you never filmed me when I looked presentable,” her sister complained. 

“That’s pure nonsense. You were cute here.”

The next one was Padmé and their father, seemingly the same day though someone had made Padmé wash her face in-between the pictures. Ruwee wore an obnoxious bright dotted shirt that was in fashion back then and Padmé was displaying a giant, purple bantha victoriously. Both of them had big, wide smiles.

“Oh, I remember now. This was at the amusement park,” Sola exclaimed. They used to make yearly trips to those until Padmé’s career had kicked off. It had been a tradition for them; and then it had stopped, and somehow she never questioned why.

“Right, I won the bantha at one of those claw machines, I think. Honestly, I spent more credits on those than it’d cost to buy one myself.”

There were a few more images from that same day. Sola, screaming on a roller coaster. The two of them trying their hands at various carnival games the amusement park was offering. Them and one of their cousins throwing credits in a wishing well and another of them lighting ceremonial candles at a shrine. A few snapshots of the whole family.

“ I ’d like to go to an amusement park someday,” Pooja said when the holos moved on to another event entirely – their grandmother’s lifeday celebration, by the look of it. She said it in a tone of voice that clearly conveyed that what she meant to say was more akin to ‘ How come never went to one? ’.

“They closed it down during the War,” their father explained. “There wasn’t enough visitors. I’m sure there’s some smaller carnivals that managed to get by, though. We could find one of those.”

“Or maybe they’ll reopen the big one?” Ryoo asked hopefully. “Now that the War’s over, I mean.”

“Maybe,” Padmé agreed and the girls beamed as if she was the amusement park director himself, giving them the good news. Sola wondered if her sister knew how highly they thought of her.

Her mother, cunningly, lingered at a holo with the whole extended family.

“Look at the haircut Zala had at that time,” she shook her head. “Honestly, what was she thinking?”

Sola snickered. 

“It was in fashion, I think. Don’t be rude, Auntie Zala made it work… somewhat.”

“She looks like a crab,” Pooja blurted out and then appeared extremely pleased with herself when it earned a round of laughter.

“A crab,” Padmé coughed in the palm of her hand to hide her smile. Then, remembering her husband, she nudged him with her foot. “I told you about my extended family, didn’t I? Here’s my Aunties – all from Mom’s side, Dad’s an only child – and my grandparents. The grandparents aren’t with us anymore but the Aunties are still around. All eight of them.”

“That’s… a large family,” Anakin said hesitantly from the floor. He’d been doing who knows what with Artoo’s wiring the whole time and seemed extremely confused at suddenly being addressed. 

“My mother really hoped for a boy.” Jobal moved through the next few holos quickly. “It didn’t work out for her but it’s impressive it took her nine girls to stop trying.”

Most of it was along the same line. Various family events, ceremonies and excursions. There were some holos of their father in his Senate garb and with his non-profit. They breezed past Sola getting her degree, Padmé as Queen Amidala, Padmé with refugee children and then Ryoo and Pooja as babies, much to their horror.

“I was so… round,” Ryoo dragged a hand down her cheek as if to make sure the baby chub was gone. “And squishy.”

Sola pinched her affectionately.

“I don’t know what you mean. You’re still squishy.”

Then, chronologically they went past Padmé and Anakin’s wedding – because apparently their mother worked fast – and Pooja was disappointed at the lack of pirates.

“It’s completely normal,” she complained.

It was Sola’s first time seeing these images but she had to agree. She had expected something more… dramatic from the two of them. But they looked happy; so she’d settled for making fun of Anakin’s haircut and Padmé’s dress.

“Did you just have that on hand?” She teased. “I know you didn’t have it at Varykino so either you bought it on extremely short notice or….”

“There were a few days between Geonosis and the wedding. I went shopping, obviously .” Padmé huffed. “Honestly, what do you think of me? I’m not ridiculous enough to own a wedding dress just in case I have to get married at the drop of a hat.”

“You absolutely are ridiculous enough.”

“It was a lovely dress, though,” their mother cut in. “It might have been short notice but you couldn’t tell.”

“Thank you.”

It was starting to get dark. Her father prepared another batch of tea and they were watching recordings of Sola, Padmé and their cousins playing ‘Who’s scared of the Shadow Man?’.

“That’s like playing chase, I guess. But the Naboo version of it. The person who’s caught, becomes the Shadow Man and must catch someone else,” Padmé explained to Anakin.

“Why a Shadow Man?”

“‘Cuz he eats kids,” Pooja told him seriously. Sola ruffled her hair.

“It’s from mythology. You know how we have a Festival of Light? Officially it’s in honour of Naboo joining the Republic but it was named after the Goddess Shiraya. She’s the moon goddess and represents light, but her dark counterpart, Alyosha, represents the sun and the eclipse. In the myths, he grows jealous and resentful and eats Shiraya’s children.”

“He eats her children?”

“It’s more complicated, but yes. So, thus, Shadow Man.” Sola grinned. “Do Jedi not have any games like that?”

He shrugged.

“Not that I know, but then again, I was never an Initiate. I joined later than most so I never really got the chance to interact with the younger children.”

This was new information to her.

“I thought that Jedi only took children under the age of four?” Her father asked. “Have they changed that since my time?”

“No, Anakin was just a special case. Dad, do you remember after the Battle of Naboo, when I asked you about the legal procedures for refugees asking for asylum?”

“I recall, yes. The slave family, was it?” Their father frowned and then his face tightened with a realization; at the same time as Sola realized what her sister was leading up to.

“Yes,” Padmé said carefully, “a mother. And her son.”

There was a period of uncomfortable silence. The girls didn’t get it, by the looks on their faces, but everyone else understood perfectly.

Anakin cleared his throat. On first glance, his face was as calm as the surface of a deep, dark lake but the nervous way he tugged at his scarf betrayed him. 

“You asked about asylum? For Mo–for my mother? I didn’t… know that.”

“Nothing ended up coming out of it, so it never felt appropriate to bring it up. It doesn’t really matter what I thought of doing.”

“It matters,” he looked at her like he’d never seen her before. “It matters to me.”

Padmé just held his gaze with reluctant acceptance. Very gently, she pried his hand away from the scarf.

“In that case, I feel like I owe you an apology. If nothing came out of it, it might have been my fault,” Ruwee broke the moment, with the somberness that the topic demanded. “I told Padmé that the Jedi would take care of it, given that you were joining. I take that wasn’t what happened.”

“...it wasn’t, no.”

“I thought the Jedi did that sort of thing, though?” Sola asked, confused. “I mean, freeing slaves, helping people.”

“When the Republic tells them to, yes. But members aren’t supposed to have attachments to begin with and they weren’t going to go through all that trouble to save one person just because I was attached to her.” Old bitterness and grief mixed in equal measures in Anakin’s tone; and there was a hint of something more raw, like the shine of an unhealed wound. “They weren’t even truly on board with me joining, except for the man that found me. Maybe he’d have done something but...”

“Master Qui-Gon died during the Battle of Naboo,” Padmé filled in. “Just a few days later.”

“That’s horrible.” Sola managed. She had no idea what to say; she looked at Padmé for answers but her sister just shook her head at her ever so slightly. 

Suddenly, she felt bad for bringing it up in the first place.

It was entirely selfish but she was grateful when Anakin drew a hand through his hair as if shaking off the lingering emotion and steered the topic back on safer ground.

“Anyway, though, we did have games on Tatooine. Not a lot of them, but it wasn’t all bad.” His voice was light but reading between the lines of what he wasn’t saying, Sola thought that ‘ not all bad ’ spoke volumes. “Nothing mythology related but there was this one game where you had a series of challenges. Like, who could jump the furthest or run the fastest or hold their breath the longest. That kind of thing, like a fake athletic competition.”

Ah, Sola thought. So that experience was truly universal then.

“What did you get if you won?” Pooja wanted to know, blissfully unaware. “At the Academy your name gets carved on the Pillar of Wisdom.”

Anakin’s face softened.

“We didn’t award the winners. The losers, however, got punished. It was something unpleasant like,” he squinted as if trying to grasp some distant memories, “taking someone else’s workload, or doing something really embarrassing. Or eating sand. Or if you were really unlucky and the other kids felt mean you had to let them hit you with a stick.”

“...that’s kind of lame,” Pooja said diplomatically – as if she was worried she’d hurt his feelings.

“With a stick?” Jobal voiced what Sola was thinking. “That’s a bit… violent.”

“I guess. A lot of the games we had were like that. The same people would still share food if you were hungry or help you out if you were busy or in trouble. It was just… different, I guess. Harsher, though it didn’t seem that way at the time. The people might have been rougher around the edges, but they weren’t bad – or most of them weren’t.” 

Then, in what had to be the moodswing of the century, he grinned. 

“So, I think you can guess that when I first came to the Temple, I had a wonderful time interacting with the Jedi children. I think my Master – Master Kenobi, I mean – just about got a stomach ulcer from all the problems I caused him back then.”

“You know, Obi-Wan complains a lot, but he never mentioned you were a bully,” Padmé hummed, nudging him teasingly with the tip of her foot. From anyone else, Sola would have considered this to be a very tactless thing to say, but in this situation she had the feeling that her sister was very well aware of what kind of response he’d prefer.

“A bully? Where’d you get that from?”

“You practically admitted you made people eat sand.”

Anakin made a face.

“What makes you think I wasn’t the one losing?”

Padmé gave him a look that said she thought the question didn’t deserve an answer.

“Alright, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t lose on an occasion. It’s not bullying if it’s evenly distributed.” 

“No, I think that’s called indiscriminate violence at that point.” 

“You know,” he mused, “my mother said something similar. She never really approved of it all. She said someone would get sick or lose a limb eventually, though that one was after someone dared me to pet a wild womp rat. And my hand was fine, by the way. That was an entirely separate incident.”

And there was the tint of grief again. Sola guessed something must have happened to his mother, at some point. There wasn’t a lack of possibilities – the list of things that could happen to an enslaved woman was anything but short.

It was another piece of the puzzle for her. The more pieces she gathered, the more she wondered about the full picture. It would not be a happy image, that much she could tell.

When she was Ryoo’s age and her father had been promoting his non-profit, she once brought to class a bunch of pamphlets about various social problems. Poverty, and abuse and – she recalled with perfect detail – slavery. It was mostly illustrated and non-graphic but it had this picture of Twi’lek children on a slaver’s market. It was a shot taken from a movie, her father had explained, but he’d included it because seeing real children in those settings was far more moving than the illustrations could ever hope to be. She agreed but even then, she’d have used ‘ haunting ’ rather than ‘ moving ’.

What did it say about her that her brain struggled to reconcile that image and Anakin? It was one thing to know those things happen in the world; another thing entirely to know someone who’d experienced them. 

It had always been ‘other people’. It shamed Sola that it took her this long to figure out that those ‘other people’ would be just… people, too. 

Somehow, the conversation went on from there. Pooja wanted to know if Anakin had ever met a pirate – apparently he had, all kinds of them – and Ryoo wanted to know about Master Kenobi. Sola got the impression that she wanted to know about his exploits but somehow it must have not come across well because all Anakin did was complain about sharing a living space with the man. It seemed not even the Jedi were above chore-based rivalries. 

“He can’t cook to save his life,” he said, “and at some point he decided we need to eat less sugar and made me eat natural grains for weeks.”

This was a hit with his target audience – the girls – but not so much with her mother.

“To be fair, that’s one of the easiest, healthiest foods you can make. It’s sweet of him to be concerned about your health.”

He looked a bit stumped with that.

“Sweet?” He repeated, grimacing as if the word left a weird aftertaste in his mouth. “I’d rather call it a deliberate attempt to lower my quality of life. You wouldn’t call him sweet if you met him. He’s very… He’s…” 

He couldn’t seem to find the word, to his frustration.

“Boring.” He finished but didn’t seem satisfied. “He’s not very good with children. It was fine, most of the time, because I wasn’t that good at being a kid but he didn’t need to throw out my snacks. There are lines and – and boundaries. He should have respected my boundaries.”

“You know, a lot of people have a health nut phase the first time they’re responsible for someone else. You’ll see how you feel in a few years when the twins get older,” Padmé mused with the air of someone who had gone through it before. Sola was tempted to call her bluff.

“It’s true,” she forced herself to admit. “And sometimes it isn’t a phase.” For her mother, at least it hadn’t been – she’d decided one day that her children were going to eat healthy and she stuck to it for decades. 

“Horrific. Don’t wish that on me.”

But, Sola thought later when she was taking the girls to sleep, she didn’t need to wish anything on him. According to Padmé, fate had already dealt him an unfair hand in regards to enjoying his food. 

It occurred to her how lucky she’d been with her own life. The worst she’d ever suffered were scratches and standard childhood illnesses. She’d never lost a limb or had to fight for survival; and her privilege had certainly never come with a price tag of any kind. All because she happened to be born under the right set of stars and to the right parents.

Most strangely, she was starting to understand why Padmé had been so hesitant about sharing her family. It wasn’t really obvious at the first glance but there was a special kind of fragility laced through the heart of that bond, right from its start. 

Thinking back on her past interactions with Anakin, Sola thought that it was truly no wonder he idolized Padmé so much. It was part sweet and part sad – and entirely none of her business, understanding it as she understood it now.

Chapter Text

For a few more days, the thick gray clouds persisted over Lake country. Aimless due to lack of wind, they dragged low in the valleys, heavy with rain. The high humidity caused fog to rise up in the mornings and linger way into the afternoon; it evoked a frightful stillness, as if all life had been sucked deep into a vacuum. A giant, planet-spanning machine stopping so finally, that no spark could ever get it moving again.

More than once, her mother had looked through the window, seen it was not raining and rushed them out for her long-awaited planting. And each time, the rain returned within the hour.

The only thing worse than being hot and miserable, Sola was learning, was being hot, miserable and soaked . The rain had truthfully taken some edge out of the heat, but not nearly enough. Her wet clothes stuck to her skin like an uncomfortable membrane, all the while her body sweltered and burned from the inside with physical exertion. 

By the end of it, her back was aching with a steady pain and the garden was a muddy mess. There was something to be said about the satisfaction of a task completed but Sola could not muster up anything of such; nor did she feel especially thrilled to have to wait for the fruits of her labour to start looking presentable.

She’d planned on returning to her work after the gardening was finally done, but that plan did not survive the contact with reality.

It was the stillness, perhaps. 

They said rain forced you to come to terms with your own being, through retreating inwards – in both a physical sense and in a more spiritual one. The people of Old Naboo believed that the human spirit, like water or perhaps the world itself, was self-balancing by nature. But the mind, they said, ran completely counterpoint to that. These days, professors called it the philosophy of resignation. Mild inconveniences, like the weather, would point you towards listening to the spirit by letting go of the frustration of the mind and accepting what you cannot change.

Of course, rain was a far more dangerous business for the early settlers, whose bodies were still unused to the natural water-loving bacteria present in Naboo soil. Periods of heavy rain or high humidity would be followed by outbreaks of disease. Sola recalled her years of studying literature in the Academy and learning to see the tangled links between history, theology and art.

It was wonderful to know the theory – but it did nothing but make her more frustrated to notice how her creativity had disappeared somewhere just out of her reach. That was the main reason she had always despised philosophy. It did nothing but make you feel worse when you felt yourself falling victim to the very flaws in the human code that it condemned.

She’d tried to force herself for a bit but she knew by now nothing would come out of it. She’d finish up her plans when fate granted her that release, it seemed, and not a moment sooner.

In the meantime, the weather had set up other work for her.

The first priority were the girls. They’d been getting bored – Pooja moreso than Ryoo. It was not that obvious at first but sometime on the fourth day she’d clearly exhausted all ways of entertaining herself in the privacy of her room and the villa. Sola was not about to let the rest of her family suffer from hyperactive little girls so she took it as her duty to find a way to entertain them.

As per Pooja’s current whim, this meant learning the noble art of hula hooping and certain beginner’s gymnastics routines. They pulled videos from the HoloNet and tried to recreate the techniques. Her back enjoyed that as much as a lothcat enjoys a nice bath but it was the price she gladly paid for Pooja’s laughter.

There was a distinct lack of laughter in the household lately – and this too could be blamed on the rain.

It had started with Anakin, some days ago. He’d seemed a little more put-together at the time of the family album night escapade but his relief had been short lived as the weather failed to improve. Sola had remembered, somewhat belatedly, that rain had a reputation of exacerbating old injuries – and it was obvious that that was the case with him.

His mood had turned for the worse first – not that he’d been a very cheerful individual at any point during the time that Sola had had the privilege of knowing him – and then his movements suddenly lacked the unnatural ease she had found so characteristic of him. Even simple actions, such as standing up seemed to come with calculated bracing for pain and he kept dropping things as his grip gradually lost its strength. 

This was not a big deal by itself and certainly not something anyone was going to call out. It lingered around the household as a bantha in the room type of situation but, well, Sola thought that Varykino had room to spare. It could easily afford to fit a bantha or two, especially when it was painfully clear how hard Anakin struggled to keep up appearances. 

But whether he liked it or not, his efforts started slipping about two days in.

That was the part that was hard to watch. The frazzled, manic energy that persisted even when the pain ate away at his ability to eat or sleep.

Despite the way he was weakening hour by hour, he was still skulking somewhere around the villa more often than not with some repair or some project or some chore nobody had asked him to do. It was beyond ridiculous and the longer it all dragged out, the more desperate for distraction he seemed to become, to the point where not even Padmé could dismiss it as just stubbornness. It was a need ; it didn’t seem to care much for how poorly he was feeling. A clear-headed person would have assumed that someone struggling to grip a fork would not attempt to do precision work, but rational thinking must have gone head to head with Anakin Skywalker and lost the battle. 

Sola had survived four years of University. She was familiar with the signs of someone headed for a nervous breakdown.

Then, by the third day he seemed to have finally hit the limits of his endurance and retreated to his bedroom like a wounded animal; and that had been the last Sola had seen of him.

She felt bad for admitting it, but as alarming as it was, his absence was like a cool breeze on a sweltering hot day. There was a fringe level of concern still swirling in the back of her mind but she was no longer locked in an endless stalemate between watching someone spiral and forcing an invasive concern in an issue where it would not be welcome.

Padmé was still stuck in that stalemate though; and Padmé was suddenly in charge of two children since her husband could not help with his share. 

She’d tried, valiantly, to do it on her own at first as if the strength of her spirit could somehow replace the need for things like sleep or relaxation. She had that look about her that Sola recognized from when she was running up in her first elections. The straight back, the proud set of her mouth that was only somewhat ruined by the baby formula on her clothes that she simply hadn’t had the time to change.

Perhaps she might have even managed if the twins hadn’t been in their moods again. It was as bad as it had been that evening when they returned from the mall; if they weren’t sleeping or eating, they were screaming. And they slept very little, in short bursts that were never longer than two hours total.

They’d tried using the medical droid but nothing came up. There was no real biological reason for their behaviour – and no solution, other than to wait it out. Some babies, the droid had commented snootily, simply weren’t good sleepers.

“It’s just my lot in life,” Padmé had breathed into her closed fist, looking very much like she was going to start crying too. “First it was the late night Senate sessions, then I got myself one insomniac and now I have three of them.”

The analogue clock on the nursery wall was nearing two in the morning. Sola felt her own eyes stinging with sleeplessness and her heart went out for her sister – between the twins and Anakin, who knew when was the last time she got some quality sleep?

The way she looked now, with messy, unwashed hair and dull eyes as she waited for the twins to finally fall asleep was very much reminiscent of how she had looked when she first arrived on Naboo. She didn’t have time to shower and hardly found the time to eat while her children took their irregular naps; and even then, she ate her meals in the privacy of her bedroom while taking care of her husband.

It was not hard now to imagine how those final weeks on Coruscant must have gone – but Sola had already known about that. What bothered her more was that the situation was repeating. Once was a misfortune, twice was a pattern.

“Padmé,” she started, smothering a yawn, “please. Make that four insomniacs, just look at yourself! Please, please take a nap. I’ll look after them and you’ll feel better in the morning. Just… let me help.”

Padmé’s eyes were dark circles against her pale, sweaty skin and they wore her defiance like crown jewels.

“It looks to me like you’re the one who needs a nap. I’m fine. I don’t need you fretting over me.”

“Fretting,” Sola scoffed, reminding herself to be patient for what felt like the hundredth time. She had decided to stay up with Padmé in hopes that her sister would see reason – but it had been hours now and it was clear that was not happening. It was terribly frustrating. “It’s not fretting if I’m talking sense. Everyone can see you’re exhausted. You’re doing nobody any favours by letting yourself burn out. Don’t you think it’s better if the kids have at least one parent who is relatively healthy?”

“Don’t condescend to me. You just – I’m not fragile. I’ve done things far more difficult than looking after babies – babies which I decided to bring into this world to begin with, mind you.”

Shiraya give me strength, Sola thought. Small wonder that the twins were colicky, with parents like that.

“You’re being prideful,” she told her, plain as she could. It was always best to do things that way with Padmé. 

For a moment, her sister’s eyes flashed but the ire never came. On some level, deep down where the stress hadn’t breached her rational thoughts yet, she had to know that Sola was right.

“And you’re being unhelpful. I’ve got this, if I need help, I promise I will ask.”

Sola’s lips twisted in a frown.

Will you? She wanted to say but that would truly be condescending.

“You will have to ask, there’s no if about it. Why wait until you’re desperate?”

Padmé did not think that worthy of a response; at that point, Luke started screaming again so she pretended to be preoccupied bouncing him.

“ Hush, hush, hush. ” She pleaded, stroking his cheek. 

It was to no avail; a few moments later, Leia joined in, incensed by her brother’s wrath.

〰 〰 〰 〰 〰

In the end, Sola didn’t need to be frustrated for long because as per her predictions, Padmé found her limit the next day.

She had the twins spread out on the living room sofa where her mother could keep an eye on them while she checked on her husband and fetched their formulas. It was a rushed affair; the twins needed to be fed and Padmé did not want to leave them for long but she clearly wanted to get as much time with Anakin as she could squeeze from that timeframe. The twins might be louder and more demanding of her attention, but right now, he was her main source of stress – and, Sola suspected, her main source of comfort. Perhaps Padmé did not idolize him the way he idolized her, but she’d considered his fiery spirit something that she needed desperately for her own completion. His illness scared her, no matter how mature she wanted to be about it.

And then, in her stress and hurry, she hit the edge of the living room table on her way back and the bottles with the formula fell from her hands with a clatter that should not have been heard over the twins – but somehow, everyone in the room heard it clear as day anyway.

Padmé’s face went blank in utter defeat as she watched the formula spill across the floor.

Then her lips began to tremble.

“Oh, for–”

“It’s alright,” their mother was already on her feet, signaling to Sola to take over the twins. “Just go and sit down and I’ll fetch them new bottles and clean up, alright?”

She started to gently guide Padmé towards the sofa, but after days of sleep deprivation, that spilled formula was more than Padmé could take – and the tenderness in her mother’s touch just set her off. Her stubbornness crumbled up and tore like wet paper, unveiling something bordering on hysterical.

“It’s not alright,” her chest heaved and she clawed at the frills of her skirt. “ It’s not alright. Everything’s going wrong! ”

“Shh, dear, come on, sit down.”

“I’m a horrible mother.”

“What?” Sola mouthed, disbelieving.

“No, you’re not.” Their mother skillfully led Padmé around the mess, rubbing circles into her back the whole time.

“ And I’m a horrible wife ,” Padmé went on shakily, her voice rising in pitch even as she obediently allowed herself to be sat on the sofa. “I’m just – they won’t calm down. What am I doing wrong ?”

“Padmé…” 

“I’m sorry , I just –” A strangled sob tried to force its way out of her throat. It made her furious and she let out a noise of pure frustration. “I can’t even do this right. I couldn’t do my job in the Senate, I can’t help my husband and I can’t even keep my – my children happy. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Their mother pressed her lips together.

“Enough of that. What you will do is take a shower, eat something and go to sleep – no, don’t interrupt me. Do not. You are just one person and you can’t possibly control everything. That’s why we ’re here. That’s why you came to Naboo in the first place.”

Padmé shook her head desperately, sending her hair flying. 

“No, I –”

“The challenge of parenting,” their mother went on, cutting her off, “is in doing it well, not doing it alone. Your troubles are yours to deal with, none of us would ever pretend otherwise. But that does not mean there is nothing we can offer to help.”

“I can’t ask that of you,” her sister’s voice broke. “I’ve been such a – a terrible daughter. It was all Senate and excitement and I completely forgot to even think about home. Who does that? And then I come back – ungrateful – just so you can uproot everything to fix the things I broke with my own two hands?”

“ Oh, Padmé ,” Jobal stroked her hair, brushing the rebellious strands from her forehead. “It’s perfectly alright. You’re my child, it was never your obligation to be grateful. Your father and I only ever wanted one thing from you. Only one.”

It hung heavy in the air, between Padmé’s hitched sobs. It was not, Sola understood, that she particularly needed to hear that. What her sister needed was to give voice to her guilt and her struggles; to abandon the self-punishing regulation she’d grown used to over the years.

No doubt it had suited her fine when she was a single career-woman. As a mother, though, it would drown her.

“Come on, get yourself a warm shower and some rest. Your sister and I will look after the children.”

It took some time; Sola focused on the twins and tried not to count the seconds. 

Then, Padmé wiped her eyes tiredly.

“Just a few hours,” she said.

〰 〰 〰 〰 〰

A few hours turned out to last until midday the next day when a bleary-eyed Padmé appeared in their father’s study, apologizing profusely for oversleeping. Sola hadn’t minded; Padmé had clearly needed the rest and between her and their parents, they’ve managed to establish an effective shift to watch over the twins.

The little hellions were adorable and she loved them dearly but they had put up one hell of a fight. After this experience, Sola could not understand how Padmé didn’t crack sooner. She wanted, badly, to comment on it but she doubted her sister would appreciate it – she looked terribly embarrassed by her breakdown from the previous day and the way she immediately took over the twins with a thousand questions left no room for anyone to get a word in.

“...thank you,” she said finally once the babies finally quieted down into a half-asleep state. Their round cheeks were still splashed with angry red from their latest tantrum but for the moment, they seemed perfectly happy and content. “Truly.”

Sola exchanged a look with her father. He’d been toying with one of those wooden puzzles that students learned in their first year of woodworking classes; now he put it down in his lap, giving Padmé his full attention.

“Don’t mention it,” and the way he said it, he meant that as literally as it came. “How’s Anakin?”

Padmé hesitated a little, kicking off her slipper and pulling her legs on the sofa.

“Better, I think. Some rest helped him out a bit, not that he’ll admit to it. If you’d take him for his word, you’d think I shackled him to bed for my own sick amusement like some poor abused circus creature.”

Her father raised an eyebrow.

“A bit dramatic,” he said.

“A lot dramatic,” Padmé said and toyed idly with a pillow, smoothing it out and pulling at the corners. Her eyes crinkled with a sad fondness. “I’m glad though. I’d take the dramatics any day over that.”

“Was it that bad?” Sola prodded It was none of her business but… That background concern flared up again, jittery and unsettling. “I mean, I thought you said this is… well, not normal but not unexpected, perhaps, for him.”

“It is. Not unexpected, I mean. These… episodes, I guess, they’re not going to just… go away.” She sighed. “I don’t want to make it a big deal. He already hardly ever tells me anything, if I make it all about my feelings, I’ll just scare him off and it wouldn’t be fair. But it’s… difficult. He’s cranky and in pain and I try to manage both him and the children but…”

“It’s not something you can pull-off on your own. That’s just the logistics of it.” Sola concluded, unwilling to let Padmé draw any other conclusion from it.

“Yeah. I know. And he does want to do his share with the twins, don’t get me wrong but I…” She made a face. “I’m nervous he’s going to drop them, to be honest, when he’s like that. Or, I don’t know, put them in the fridge by accident. The painkillers make him loopy. Back on Coruscant, I had this black coat that I hung on the door in my bedroom after running some errands because I was too tired to put it in the closet and he – ah – mistook it for our late Count Dooku. That was funny, honestly – even though I lost a door from it – but babies are so fragile and it doesn’t take much to do some damage.”

This brought up a memory for Sola. She recalled that day in Padmé’s study; when they talked about prospective housing. How long ago it all seemed now; perhaps not in days, but Anakin certainly seemed like a whole different person in her eyes then.

“Is that why he’s worried about hurting them? With the massage, I mean.”

Padmé needed a moment to remember what Sola was referring to.

“No, I don’t think so. Honestly, I don’t know. I don’t understand what goes on in his head lately. Half the time, he brushes things off and the other half he gets paranoid over the most inconsequential things – and I can never predict which one it’ll be.” She tossed the pillow, choosing to lay down in a half-reclined position. Finding a spot that supported her back, she sighed in relief. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to complain. I’m sure you’d both like a break from babysitting.”

“Hey, Mom said it. The whole point about coming here was so you can share these things, you know. You did keep a lot of this very private.” Perhaps more than she should have. On one hand, Sola understood. It was not her own privacy that she was protecting – it was Anakin’s. 

But she’d have liked to know. To offer help, where she could. Were they not family?

Padmé breathed, a guilty look on her face.

“I know.”

“I’m just saying, it couldn’t have been easy,” Sola corrected herself. “You don’t want to bring any of this up to Anakin, that’s fine. It’s reasonable even. But it affects you too and you don’t have to just… keep all of that to yourself. You have other options.”

Padmé’s eyes crinkled in the corners.

“Look at you,” she said. “When did you get so wise?”

“I don’t know, sometimes around the time when you were living it up on Coruscant with all the freaks and criminals in the Senate.”

Their father cleared his throat.

“That aside, what is your plan though?”

“Plan?”

“Clearly, you will need to have one. You expect to be living on your own. Presumably getting a job. Naboo has a long rainy season – if weather is a factor behind these episodes, you have to consider that.”

Padmé’s hesitation spoke volumes.

“Well…” She trailed off. ”We’re going to get a house.”

“A house?” Their father repeated with an unimpressed look, sounding as close to stern as he ever got. “And will that house come with a nanny? Or a doctor?”

Sola could tell just how badly her sister wanted to deny needing one; but she was far too clever to trap herself like that.

“We… haven’t thought that far ahead,” she admitted. “I know that’s bad. Things have been frantic and… I’m always the one making the plans, when it comes to this. Anakin has his whims occasionally but we agreed that it’s best for the children if they have the kind of life I had growing up, so it ends up being my call. And I get it, I really do – he hasn’t had what you’d call a normal life – and I’ve always accounted for it. It’s never been a problem before.”

Before, Sola thought. There always was some kind of before with those two. As if they were not young and alive and capable of considering an after too.

“I don’t know what I want anymore,” Padmé went on. “That’s one issue. And Anakin hardly tells me anything, that’s the other. It’s Palpatine, for both of us, I assume, but we can’t seem to talk about it. There’s just so much we’re walking around – and I know we’ll have to discuss his health issues and what happened to him eventually, I know it’s important. I can’t keep putting it off but it simply isn’t possible when I’m the only one willing to have that conversation.”

If there was one quality Sola loved most about her sister, it was her self awareness. And once she was aware of an issue, she loathed to let it fester. That was what made her current slump that more evident because at her best, Padmé would have never allowed for it.

Her answer satisfied their father. This was all he’d wanted from her, Sola knew. An acknowledgement.

“What about Palpatine?” He prodded. “I understand that it was a shock for you.”

She just shook her head sadly.

“It changed so much, that’s all. My career was built around following his advice. It’s true that I questioned him for the past few years but…”

It was her confidence that had gone, Sola thought – but she’d given up on understanding where Padmé stood on this issue.

She felt like the system had failed her; and yet, she felt as if she had failed the system. She’d been at the same time the sword and the neck it fell upon. Her noble dreams had not died a noble death, Sola understood, and they’d left her with the fearful ghosts that cautioned against repeating old mistakes.

It was the root of all her issues, that uncertainty. It fed into her hesitance to start difficult conversations and make a commitment – and it certainly was the source of her irrational stubbornness regarding the twins.

“Padmé,” their father spoke slowly, drawing out each sound. “Your career did not start with Palpatine. It’s not tainted – you don’t have to throw it away forever just because of that. Take some time to think about it. There must have been parts you’re satisfied with. Draw on those. But don’t avoid the facts you don’t want to face.”

“About that… Could I ask you for some advice? Of the political kind, I mean.” 

He leaned forward, resting his jaw heavily in the palm of his hand.

“It’s been a great many years since you last asked for advice.” There was no judgment in his voice – just an observation and an unspoken reassurance. 

Padmé did not stop to acknowledge it. Her eyes were solemn.

“It has,” she admitted briefly. “I haven’t been able to keep up much lately but – well, I watched the news on my datapad in the nursery occasionally. I noticed that having some kind of noise helps the twins fall asleep and it’s not like learning about Senate matters early is going to hurt them.”

“I’d respectfully disagree,” Sola muttered. “What? Don’t look at me like that. No wonder they can’t sleep if you’re inflicting that on them. Have you considered a storybook or something?”

“Yes,” Padmé said dryly. “But moving on, Lama Su’s trial is officially over, which means that the ongoing investigation into Palpatine is finished. The Queen commed me the other day to warn me about it in advance. She… had a request, of a kind. With the investigation concluding, the body is going to be released into the custody of Naboo. He has no living relatives and he was an official for a great many years so the State is responsible for the funeral.”

“They want you to attend?” Their father guessed.

“The Queen said it’s my choice. She won’t demand it of me but… She’d like me to make a speech. And since Jar Jar is going to be on planet for the occasion, they’ll be selecting a new Senator for the sector. She hopes I could assist with that.”

“Then what? You’re going to Theed?” Sola frowned. She assumed that any processions would have to occur at the seat of the government – but certainly, she must be missing something. 

It explained, if nothing else, Padmé’s strange behaviour the other day. So much for the comm call not being important.

“I haven’t agreed yet. I don’t know if I should, to be honest.”

Sola found that hard to believe.

“When is this happening?” Ruwee asked. He was unphased; she wondered if perhaps he already knew. He had prodded Padmé rather harshly earlier, by his standards.

“There’s no set date yet but possibly next week. When they tell me the exact details, they’ll expect an answer from me.” She looked horribly troubled. 

“Padmé, do you want to go?”

“I… It’s not just that. I’d feel useless just sitting around like this, yes. I’ve been thinking about that. I’m not dead and I refuse to just… fade away. There’s things I can still do to help. But it’s not about me, it’s about Luke and Leia.”

“Right, you can’t just leave them,” Sola rushed.

“That isn’t what I mean. I’m considering it because showing up at this event, saying a few kind words for Palpatine, mending some bridges – it lets me save face, a little. What I did, what Anakin did – that’s going to follow them around. When I was elected, I gave up my family name because the rest of you would be safer that way. I was able to make that sacrifice then.”

“Sacrifice?” She repeated but Padmé was moving on.

“ – but with Luke and Leia, that ship had left the spaceport on the day they were born. I’d like to smooth things out, at least with the people here on Naboo.”

This was not an unreasonable train of thought, Sola had to admit begrudgingly. She’d been wondering about that herself – officially, the twins had ‘Naberrie-Skywalker’ written on their papers. She’d checked when she felt nosy at some point. 

And even if that hadn’t been the case, the only reason why Padmé’s name change worked as protection was because she no longer lived with her family at that point. Luke and Leia could both have their surnames changed to ‘Organa’ for all that’d matter if they were seen out in public with their parents.

“It sounds to me you’ve already decided,” their father mused. “I think what you said makes sense, if my opinion on the matter brings you any comfort.”

Padmé didn’t look like someone who was already decided though. She was uncertain, wary of stakes that should be a lot higher than what she’d let on.

“I can’t take Anakin with me to Theed. Or to the funeral,” she spoke carefully, laying out the core issue. “It won’t fly. I might think Palpatine had it coming but he did kill the man. It’d be disrespectful to our traditions and frankly… cruel to ask that from him in the first place. He shouldn’t need to pay any respects to that man. To be honest, I don’t even know how he’s going to react to the concept of Palpatine getting a formal burial on its own.”

“Ah,” Sola pursed her lips. She couldn’t truly blame Anakin for not being thrilled about that, given his current situation. She herself wasn’t sure how she felt about it. 

On one hand, radical forgiveness was an important belief on Naboo and politically, they needed to acknowledge their role in everything. On the other, Palpatine had been a dangerous populist. He might have died but his influence was perfectly alive and well.

“Hopefully, he’ll be back on his feet in a week’s time but I don’t imagine he’ll be very happy,” their father mused. “He was terribly anxious when you went to the mall, you know.”

Sola recalled the argument she’d overheard that evening. It had not occurred to her that her father would have known about it too, having been alone with Anakin for the day. She wondered what he’d seen of him during that time..

“He’ll hate it. It won’t go down well, I can already tell,” Padmé said softly. “That’s the thing. I don’t want to hurt him – least of all right now – and I don’t want to leave the children. I feel… uneasy.”

“It’s not an easy decision, certainly. But this kind of event? I don’t imagine it’ll take that long. A few days, maybe. It’s not too unreasonable. Like I said, it sounds to me you’ve already decided.”

She signed, turning her head towards the ceiling as if she’d find absolution etched in the white paint.

“Yes,” she said as if speaking to herself. “I guess I already have.”

〰 〰 〰 〰 〰

The weather turned steadily. 

First, they were gifted with a miserable, cloudy day; technically, there was no rain but everything was still wet and foggy. The air held that particular scent and the trees in the gardens glistened with a thousand little droplets. Pooja had dragged out her canvas and tried to capture the moment of their last contact with the tree; when their shape disfigured and colours of both the ground and the sky merged in the reflection.

“‘S good practice,” she said when Sola questioned her on it. “They told us that in class. If you want to get good at getting the lights and the shading right, you gotta practice on things that don’t look like they should.”

She seemed genuinely delighted to be standing there, in that miserable little garden in all of its foggy, muddy glory. The gardening had temporarily ruined the scenery there; Sola had the itchy feeling she was getting dirty just by walking around the patches of dirt.

Children, she thought fondly. These things mattered so little to them. 

Then, by the next day the clouds had finally gone and the scorching summer sun had made it seem like they were never even there. When she did her work on her balcony now, she could hear the orchestra of uncountable bugs at work in the bushes below; and on the horizon, the surface of the lake flickered in the heat like a corrupted hologram.

In the afternoon, she got to enjoy a brief show of Anakin finding a particularly straight stick in the garden and using it to practice his lightsaber moves. She’d watched a bit with concern before deciding it was none of her business and going back to work, freshly brewed cup of kaff in hand – and then some time later, she walked the same path to return the empty mug to the kitchen and found him teaching the girls, each somehow with a stick of their own. Pooja kept swinging hers with the wild confidence of someone very talented at knocking things over and very patiently, Anakin would shake his head and demonstrate a proper way to swing, again and again as they went through a few stances.

Clearly, this was a disaster waiting to happen and she told Ryoo and Pooja not to pester him. Sola should have put a stop to it – that would have been the responsible thing to do. Instead, she let them be, returning to her calculations with something preciously warm sitting behind her ribs.

Ill-advised or not, he was having fun and so were the girls. She’d hate to ruin it.

It was a relief to see him feeling better – and he did visibly feel better now that the weather had improved. The fact he was freely walking around proved that. The period of illness, though brief, would need some time for a full recovery, of course, but he was happy to be released from bedrest. Not that he said anything of such but Sola could see it on his face. His eyes sparkled; it was as endearing as his obvious exhaustion was concerning.

It was quite a strange experience, feeling concern for Anakin, mostly due to his apparent quest to prove that everything was back to normal. He was quite good at making his points without using any words – it was hard to deny someone doing a one-handed handstand.

“Ridiculous,” Padmé had said later, trying her best to sound stern. “He’s being completely ridiculous. That’s not even how he normally meditates, he’s just showing off. If you see him do it again, you have my blessing to tell him to knock it off.”

But ridiculous or not, it had put her at ease; and as if sensing that shift in the mood, the twins calmed down as well. That was a big weight off Padmé’s chest. She tried to downplay it in front of him but Sola, at least, knew better. She chatted more about the silly things she’d seen or done on Coruscant. She went jogging again, every evening, only solemnly putting her foot down when Anakin tried to join her. She even went to Sola and started talking about the kind of house she’d like to have, out of her own free will.

That was exactly how Sola knew it would not last.

Padmé still had her little secret – and she was running out of time with it.

She knew exactly when she broke the news to Anakin; Padmé had asked her to look after the twins beforehand but even if that wasn’t the case, the whole household could clearly hear them arguing. They kept moving room to room because the moment one of them would angrily storm out, the other immediately followed. And on and on it went, seemingly never running out of things to say.

“Why shouldn’t I go with you?” Anakin kept insisting, as if he hoped that asking the same question would wear Padmé down. Sola had to admire his tenacity – Padmé was not an easy person to outstubborn.

“You know why.” Padmé replied testily but she did not say it. Sola had the sneaking suspicion that the fight would be a lot shorter if she had. 

“And if someone tries to assassinate you? This is stupid, it’s not worth it. Think about it.”

“Nobody will try to assassinate me.”

“That’d be a first.”

She didn’t quite catch what Padmé had to say about that – the walls of the nursery muffled the sounds, even with the door open – but she clearly heard the loud sound of someone slamming the door. The twins stirred awake at it, Luke with a yawn and Leia with the start of a crying spell.

“Don’t worry about this,” Sola told them solemnly, reaching for a rattle toy. “Grown-ups fight occasionally. Silly, I know, but that’s how it is. Hopefully they’ll be over it by the time the two of you start understanding what’s going on around you.”

Being a single mother had been hard but at least she hadn’t had this particular experience. Sola truly ought to start counting her blessings.

“What about the children?” Was Anakin’s second attempt, a few minutes later when he caught up with Padmé down the hallway, sounding somewhat out of breath. “You’ll just leave them?”

Ouch, Sola thought. Wonderful timing.  

“It’s just for a few days. I’m sure you’ll manage,” Padmé didn’t budge an inch there, nor did she take the bait. “Ask my family for help if you can’t.”

There was a brief, breathy silence.

“You can’t just – leave.” 

“It’s just a few days,” her sister repeated, sounding frustrated even as she tried to keep her voice even. “We’ve been over this. I’m not leaving forever. This is silly, Anakin. Do you seriously want to be at that funeral?”

“I want to be with you ,” he insisted passionately, with the kind of choked-up heat that showed that he knew he was losing. “I belong t–with you. The War’s over, I’m not with the Jedi, you’re not in the Senate, we waited for this for years–”

Sola hadn’t missed his little slip-up. He was being too loud for that, though she failed to hear Padmé’s response. The only reason she knew she had commented on it was because of Anakin’s immediate “Don’t change the topic!”

“You can’t keep doing this!” This time Padmé’s voice carried across the floor loud and clear. 

“Doing what? You’re the one who wants to go to the Chancellor’s funeral.”

“You mean Palpatine’s funeral. You never call him by his name.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“It’s got everything to do with it! See, you’re getting all defensive again.”

At that point, Sola’s attempt at distraction failed. Leia started wailing; and a few moments later, Luke followed her, as if out of solidarity. She dearly wished the twins had a little less solidarity in this particular department. The sound echoed across the villa and before Sola could manage to close the door, the two parents had already fallen into silence.

“Is everything alright?” Padmé pushed into the room just after Sola returned to the cot and started trying, in vain, to distract the babies. 

“Yes, yes, it’s fine, I’ve got it under control. You can go back to… your conversation.” She waved her off but Padmé’s face was drawn.

“We woke them up,” she concluded. She pinched the bridge of her nose, expelling frustration with a sigh. “I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have – that shouldn’t have happened.”

“It happens. Nobody said marriage is easy.” Not even her own parents had managed quite without arguments. “You’ll talk it out eventually.”

“Eventually,” Padmé said flatly, settling on the cot and pulling Luke in her lap – he was easier to distract that way. Sola watched her coo for a bit before she realized she had no intention of going back.

“Are you not… finishing that?” She asked carefully. “I mean, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop but you were being kind of loud and it didn’t sound like you got anywhere.”

“Anakin went on a walk,” her sister informed her. “To calm down or maybe out of spite, I don’t know. What’s the point anyway? I’m not going to change his mind, no matter what I say. I don’t know how much you heard but I swear –”

Sola chewed on her lip.

“I heard some parts,” she said carefully. She didn’t want to hit something too raw, or too personal. “He… talks in circles, does he not?”

“Not always. This is…” New , she wanted to say but couldn’t bring herself to. Probably, Sola thought, because she knew it wasn’t quite true. She sat still for a few moments. “I don’t know how to help him.”

To this, Sola had nothing to say. Padmé had voiced that before and any reassurances she could offer would mean next to nothing. She was an architect; she had finished her schooling, had found a job to provide herself and had given birth to two children. She knew nothing about the topic of war or death or slavery… or recovery.

But she understood, to a degree, that it couldn’t be easy for Anakin.

“I suppose he didn’t take the precautions against separation anxiety,” she tried, making light of it. She was a bit unsettled, in truth. He’d betrayed a little too much and it wasn’t just separation anxiety. It was… She had no idea what to think or whether she should say something.

Padmé seemed to pick up on that. Her eyes were unusually perspective while looking at Sola, as if she was searching for judgment. Finding none, her face softened.

“Don’t take him too seriously. He says things he doesn’t mean, sometimes. He does rely on other people too much sometimes but he certainly knows full well he doesn’t belong to anybody. It’s just a… declaration of love, for him. It doesn’t mean anything.”

A declaration of love…  

Sola was no expert on romantic love, to be fair, but she’d wager most people would not consider the complete surrender of autonomy to be the ultimate declaration of love – and she’d put her hand in the fire that Anakin did , with the same earnest way that he accepted violence and punishment as a part of his childhood friendships.

Like love was, ultimately, a form of sacrifice.

“...does it not disturb you, though?”

“No. I’ve known Anakin for a long time. It’s not wise, perhaps, but I’ll take him as he is, no matter how unconventional.”

“Sure, but…”

Padmé sighed wearily, as if Sola was not getting it out of pure stubbornness.

“There is no ‘but’ about it. I worked with refugee aid agencies a lot, you know. It disabused me pretty quickly of the notion that trying to intervene in certain things is in any way helpful. I remember when I first started, there was this little girl. She and the other children were orphaned during the civil war on their planet and they’ve all been through some hardships on their own. She was such a lovely thing and I remember she took me to her room and how horrified I was to learn they didn’t give her a bed.” She shifted Luke in her arms, rocking him lightly. “I went to the director about it. He told me she would not sleep anywhere but on the floor anyway. It was what she was used to and the expectations that she ought to sleep in bed or she’ll be breaking some kind of unwritten rules just made her nervous.”

Sola was familiar with the story. Their father had hundreds like that, from his work with his non-profit. 

“I don’t think Anakin is a little girl,” she commented and Padmé gave her an annoyed look.

“You’re not getting the point. Sometimes, people get comfort from things that are upsetting to you. It’s how they make sense of the world. And yes – it’s born from bad experiences, usually, but you don’t get to meddle with the way people think and feel about things unprompted. If I forced a bed on that little girl, it would be for the sake of my own sensibilities and righteousness, not truly for her. She’d work it out eventually, or she wouldn’t, but it’d be her own decision. And it’s the same with Anakin – I can give him perspective if he asks and I will help but only if he asks. I won’t ever force him to just… forget his experiences and start thinking like me. I won’t treat him as a vessel for my good intentions.”

“I… will have to sit on this,” Sola admitted hesitantly. It sounded well in theory, but in practice, she couldn’t help but feel like it’d amount to something like enabling. Something to be used with feral tookas, perhaps, but not with human beings capable of tearing down shrubs with their mind. “It’s not really my field.” 

But it was Padmé ’s field. She forgot that sometimes. It truly was no wonder that Anakin had come to love her so deeply; for all Padmé spoke about catering to what brought people comfort, this kind of unconditional love was a comfort in itself. It was something you never wanted to let go of.

“It’s human instinct to want to correct things you think are harmful. It takes a lot of self restraint to know that it’s a delicate process and sometimes you do more harm by demolishing something that exists for a reason. Still…” 

She waited for her sister to finish her thoughts but she didn’t seem inclined to.

“Still, I think you’d rather tell him to knock it off.”

“Of course I would,” Padmé scoffed. “And sometimes I do. As you pointed out, he is not a little girl, he can handle a conversation. It’s about equality. I won’t tell him what to think but he doesn’t get to tell me what to do either. He knows better. That’s why I told you not to take him seriously.”

“I see,” Sola frowned. “So, what’s the plan of action? You’re still going to Theed?”

“I am. I gave my word to the Queen. Anakin will come around to it. He always does, in the end. I’ll just… give him the space to get there on his own. Whatever’s making him anxious, it doesn’t actually have that much to do with me, I feel.”

Sola had gathered as much; the target of irrational behaviour was rarely also its source. 

“You think it’s because of Palpatine?”

“I know it is, to some degree at least. That was… Even with all the missing details, I know it was a very horrible thing. I just… don’t know what it was, exactly. And how he feels about it. I thought he’d be furious but he’s… not.” Padmé paused to wipe a line of saliva from the corner of Luke’s mouth. Her face was tight, even as her motions were gentle. “This will sound awful but I don’t like it. I’d prefer it if he was angry. I think he should be angry.”

“It’d be much easier,” Sola agreed though she knew that was not what Padmé meant. She’d said once that Anakin had thought of Palpatine as almost like a father – that was complicated. If it were her own father, she couldn’t imagine what she’d feel but she doubted it’d be something as simple as just anger.

“When are things ever easy?”

〰 〰 〰 〰 〰

She helped Padmé feed the babies and then eventually bathe them and prepare them for bed, snug in their Clone Trooper themed onesies. Her sister didn’t mention it, but she was clearly grateful for the company. 

It had to be draining, living like Padmé did. Perhaps that was why once the sky went dark and Anakin still hadn’t returned from his walk, Sola stood up and smoothed the creases in her clothing.

“You know, I think I’ll go get some fresh air before I go to bed.”

This was pure impulsivity – Sola wasn’t sure that she should be doing this – but Padmé’s relief made it worth it.

“Be nice,” she called after her softly and Sola fought the urge to roll her eyes. For all that she was annoyed with her husband for it, her sister was quite protective in her own right.

The air outside was pleasantly cool and breezy and Naboo’s three moons gave her enough light to circle the villa and head down the single path to the lake with confidence. She didn’t need to go far – the moment she turned somewhat out of view from the house, she found Anakin sitting on the steps, leaning casually on one knee with his face turned somewhere upwards, towards the stars.

“Did Padmé send you?” He asked, before she even had the chance to announce her presence.

“She did not.” Very carefully, Sola took her seat on the steps next to him, straightening her skirt as she did. “I just thought I’d check on you.”

She had no idea how far that Jedi telepathy thing went; it was somewhat intimidating, not knowing what he was getting from her. 

“I’m fine. I’m… sorry. I’ll go back and apologize.”

Sola needed a minute to process.

“You… will?”

He finally looked at her just to give her his most disbelieving expression.

“I’m not so horrible, you know. I do know how to apologize.”

“You’re not horrible at all, don’t say that. I’m just… surprised. It’s pretty fast.”

She’d truly thought it’d be a harder sell, with how upset he sounded. 

“I still don’t like it. I wish she wouldn’t insist on it.” He spoke tonelessly, with a practiced blankness as if giving a report. “But I don’t want to – upset her. I haven’t been the best at that in the past but I’d like to do better. I’d like to be better. For the children, too.”

“Well,” Sola considered, “that’s a good first step, I would say. Open communication and all that.”

Anakin threw a pebble. It bounced off the steps and vanished somewhere in the greenery.

“You did speak with Padmé,” he said with a sudden certainty. 

“She mentioned a few things. She… worries, you know. She doesn’t really understand what’s going on with you.”

She expected him to deny it, but perhaps that was her problem – expecting Anakin to act the way she thought he would.

“I know she does. I bet she’s imagining all kinds of horrible things and I don’t want her to but I don’t want to upset her. I wish she wouldn’t ask.”

“Anakin, you married her. There’s a commitment in that. Of course she’s going to ask and worry.”

He leaned his forehead against the palm of his mechanical hand and closed his eyes.

“I know ,” he repeated weakly. “It’s not anything she’s imagining. It’s not… I just don’t want to upset her.”

It was sweet and it was selfish. Sola knew that Padmé wouldn’t appreciate his reasoning but she strongly suspected she wouldn’t begrudge him either. I’ll take him as he is, she’d said and she knew that she meant every word.

Sola wasn’t Padmé though. She didn’t have her talent for wrangling with human fragility. Instead, she just clung to what her sister had said and waited for him to go on. And miraculously, he did.

“I simply… I thought I was going to die in that office. It was nothing new, I almost died more times than I can count but this time was… different. It was different somehow. I had my whole life flash by – I’ve heard people talk about this but it’s never happened to me before. It was disconcerting. I’ve been thinking about it a lot in prison, when I had nothing else to do. I’m… I’m not a good person. I’ve known that for a while but I didn’t realize how completely my life went off the course until that happened. And then I didn’t die and I didn’t get executed for treason and – it’s a second chance. I want to make things right. I will make things right, I just need to… need to…” He tugged at his scarf with his free hand. “See, how am I supposed to say this to Padmé? When I got out of prison she looked so unwell and I thought, maybe my dreams weren’t wrong after all and I–”

“– Hold up, your dreams?”

“It’s a long story.”

Sola clasped her hands firmly in her lap and shifted her body to face him, trying to look open and accepting.

“Well,” she said, “I have time.”

This time, she knew he’d tell her. He needed to tell someone, the same way Padmé had needed to speak her piece – but unlike her, he had no family with him. As far as Sola knew, he had nobody at all. Nobody except Padmé and their children and the distant figure of the man who’d raised him back on Coruscant.

And a father figure in a casket.

“When the Chancellor was kidnapped and I came back to Coruscant and found out she was pregnant, I had these… dreams, that she’d die. She was crying and I felt her die and I was –” He shook his head. “I wasn’t going to let them come true. I wasn’t .”

“But… people have all kinds of dreams. It doesn’t mean that–”

“– It does,” he interrupted. “For me it does. I’m not people. My dreams – visions, really – come true. They always do and it's always about death. The Force is cruel that way. Why show me death if I can’t prevent it?”

“Oh,” Sola caught on. “It’s a Jedi thing? Or just a you thing? But Padmé didn’t die.”

“That’s never happened before,” Anakin said insistently. “They always come true just the way I dreamed it. And I can’t stop dreaming it, every time I close my eyes, until it happens.”

“...do you still dream about it?”

“No. But that doesn’t mean anything. She might still die and it’ll be my fault.”

“Wow, hold on. Why would it be your fault? You said they come true regardless if you do anything or not,” Sola tried to reason. “Besides, she’s fine. She won’t die.”

He seemed to struggle with something. His posture froze and then his shoulders crumbled inwards – in defeat.

“The Chancellor,” he started and swallowed. “You can’t tell this to anyone. Promise. But the Chancellor said – he said he’d teach me. How to save her. He told me how his Master, he taught him how to… create life, through the Force.”

“That’s…” Sola stopped herself. What could she say? It sounded like a trap; worse than that, it sounded dangerous . She didn’t know much of the Force or the Sith, but she didn’t think that this was something a Jedi should be doing.

“You can’t tell anyone,” Anakin stressed again. “It’s… not the kind of thing people should know. Especially not the Jedi.”

“I won’t tell anyone, I promise. I mean, I don’t fully understand it myself. The Jedi… do the Jedi teach anything about using the Force like this?”

“No,” he scowled. “They wouldn’t. They don’t believe in prolonging life. I told Master Yoda about my dreams and he told me that I need to train myself to let go. They already don’t trust me, if they knew about this they’d…” He seemingly couldn’t think of what they’d do to him, now that he wasn’t a member anymore.

“They made me spy on the Chancellor,” he blurted out suddenly, surprising even himself. “The Chancellor appointed me as his representative on the Council – to… spy I guess – and they wanted me to keep an eye on him. That was before anyone knew that he was the Sith Lord. What they did know, however, was that he’s been my friend for over a decade. He’d invite me to places and he was – he was always kind and they acted like it was somehow shameful, until it suited them.”

Sola was no politician but she could tell this would have been trouble if it got out.

She doubted that was where Anakin’s resentment lay though and she winced in sympathy. It was an awful position to be in – on one side, your bosses, on the other, the Chancellor of the Republic. 

“He wanted to send me after Grievous but the Council didn’t trust me with this – or maybe they just didn’t want to let the Chancellor make the plans. They sent Obi-Wan instead and I got stuck spying. That’s how it all ended up the way it did.”

“What a mess,” she mused gently. In her lap, her fingers were tapping on the top of her hands in a nervous rhythm. “Did he find out what your… mission was?”

“Of course he did,” he muttered. “He knew all along, it wasn’t that subtle and he’s not stupid. Obi-Wan said it was all part of his plan, to make me question the Council, but – he didn’t make them do that. Nobody did. But the Chancellor – he was not upset with me. I know what you’re thinking. That’s not why he – why we fought.”

“Padmé said he revealed himself willingly,” Sola remembered. “Because he thought you’d be on board. Your dreams… is that when he offered to teach you?”

All of that blank composure Anakin had built up before was gone now. If he could discuss his problems with the Jedi calmly, this part of it made him anxious and jittery.

“When I came to him with an update about Grievous, yes. I was going to – I don’t know. I had no intention of fighting him, then and there. I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t risk Padmé like that. And he wasn’t attacking me either, he just… stood there, unarmed, and he begged me to use his knowledge to save her. Like he wanted to help me. What was I supposed to…?” He licked his lips feverishly. 

“And then – I must have made a sudden movement. Or something. I mean, I did have my lightsaber pointed at him but I was going to just leave and contact the Council, I swear. But it had to be something because he pulled his own lightsaber like he thought I was attacking him and that… changed things. You know, the Jedi have never trusted me and they were scared and a lot of times, people are terrified of – of me, no matter what I do, but never the Chancellor. He always said… He… But at that moment? He was just like them. The whole time, he was acting like he was putting his life in my hands but he wasn’t really. His lightsaber was inside his sleeve the whole time. And… I suppose he had the right to not trust me, considering.”

Pausing again, he ran a hand through his hair and fussed with his scarf, loosening it up and then tightening it again, trying to find some balance between exposure and irritation.

With a sick feeling in her stomach, Sola at once understood what exactly Padmé meant when she said she wished he was angry.

“So… he attacked you, then? Anakin, that’s self-defense, you had every right to–”

“– it wasn’t quite like that. He didn’t attack , he just lit up his lightsaber and moved and I… I wasn’t thinking. I couldn’t think, suddenly. It’s been happening a lot, towards the end of it. I’d be in a fight and something happened and then all of the sudden it’d be like…” He searched for words. His mouth pressed in a tight, despairing line, like he was steeling himself. “Like I’m not there. I mean, I’m there, but not really. Everything is suddenly too loud and too much and it’s like this burning, like I’m burning from the inside out and I can’t think and I can’t stop and they just – just have to hurt, because that energy, that burning it – it wants out. Have you ever felt like that? Achieving some goal, any goal, it doesn’t matter , justice doesn’t matter, what happens to me doesn’t even matter. Just – just pain. Someone has to pay. And then it passes and I’m standing there and I can’t believe what I just did and there’s more blood on my hands and a new excuse about why I had to do it.”

This time, he didn’t pause enough to give her the time to say anything. It might have been a good thing.

“ That ’s what happened, in that office. It was all so – things just kept worsening and I couldn’t sleep and the stakes kept getting higher and then he turned on that lightsaber and didn’t matter that it was the Chancellor, that he could save Padmé, that he was my friend .” The way he said that word was like it carried the weight of the universe in its complexity – like it was his own personal condemnation.

“The thing that gets to me the most is that the Chancellor knew about this. I couldn’t tell anyone else because they’d… I know how it sounds. I’m not a good person, but I don’t want people to leave me. I could be good with them, I want to be good so the ugly parts have no place there. I’m not going to ruin things for Padmé or for the children. But he made it so easy and often it seemed like he already knew everything that’s wrong with me, but he didn’t care. And about this… issue , he knew exactly what to say. It was natural and it was war and they were my enemy. He’d give me a thousand reasons why not taking mercy on an enemy actually helped the people, by eliminating a threat or not using up Republic resources or… something. He found some excuse. He said not to worry. He said he trusts my judgments and that meant that I could trust my judgments.”

“He said that?” Sola asked quietly. In her lap, her hands were turning white from how tightly she was clasping them.

Anakin didn’t acknowledge it at first. Even sitting so close to him that she could feel his heat, she felt as if he was a million miles away, looking at an entirely different set of constellations. She had a feeling that for all he cared, she could have been anyone right now.

Anyone, except someone who knew him.

“He kept trying to talk to me, though. I can’t remember what he was saying – it’s all fuzzy and… out of order. Like a corrupted file. You know, when the hardware gets banged around too much and bits of code are lost so when you try to run the program it’s just a mess? But I remember he was asking me to stop. And telling me about Padmé – and funny thing, but I don’t think I told him about my dreams in the first place – and how it was the only way. He didn’t want to fight me. Nobody seems to understand that. The things that he was telling me, about how giving into that – that urge and killing someone was the right thing to do? All of the sudden I’m hearing the same things from the Jedi and from Pa…cifists.”

Straightening, he traced something along the line of his neck and his eyes were distant. He paused like that, still in the middle of some caricature of self-strangulation.

“He could have killed me. He had me pinned down and his hands were – they were – he had his hands around my neck, like this. And the lightning – I didn’t win that fight, in truth. If he wanted to, I’d be dead. I thought I was going to die. It felt like – like death. Like burning from the inside but at the same time I couldn’t breathe or move or make a sound. He could have ended it, I wouldn’t have been able to stop him. He dragged it out on purpose, so I’d come to my senses maybe or… Or maybe he just wanted to make it last because he’d been counting on me and I betrayed him.”

There was so much wrapped in this confession, just beneath the surface. Sola tried to picture what it felt to be in that position – the terror of it, the vulnerability Anakin would not admit to – and she felt ill.

His hands were still around his own neck. It gave a childish impression, like he simply had no other way to explain what happened. She scrambled back a bit, suddenly feeling like something electric ran down her body, filling her with static.

“That’s – you’re talking about torture . He tortured you.”

Her horror had him flinching away, as if she said something obscene.

“It wasn’t that – I’ve been tortured before. It wasn’t like that. He was… He was just…”

“Betrayed? I wasn’t there, I don’t know what your conversations looked like but he was planning to–”

“–Use me?” He bit back sharply, turning to face her with a ferocity that came out of nowhere. “Obi-Wan said the same thing. As if he knows. As if it’s such a terrible thing, to be used. You shouldn’t assume. Even if he did have plans for me, the fact is that he picked me when he could have had anyone – or nobody at all. He didn’t need me. I’m so sick of everyone acting like it’s so obvious that all of that was faked.”

Just under the anger, there was a tinge of desperation. And Sola could not feel anything but pity.

Oh, she thought.

‘I think he saw him as a father, almost’, Padmé’s voice came back to her. And Anakin had said that Palpatine had been his friend for over a decade, that he took him places. It was like it clicked into place and Sola could comprehend the… violation of it all. The thing that he could not move past.

Anakin, as a child, had been vulnerable. She didn’t think he understood just how much of that vulnerability he was disclosing in those few remarks he allowed himself. But he’d made it terribly clear that he’d been on his own, troubled and completely used to the kind of violent, ugly things that his caretakers failed to understand needed empathy and understanding, not condemnation. Anakin hadn’t created the viciousness that lived inside him – he’d simply adopted it to make sense of the things that were done to him, just like the other children he grew up with had done, just like Padmé had implied.

Even now, she thought with a heaviness that clenched hard around her lungs, he was still trying to make sense of it. Nobody had ever taught him otherwise.

The Jedi had failed to understand and pointed their fingers at the flaws in him – and Palpatine had understood, she could not for a moment think that he hadn’t known exactly what he had before him, and had made use of it.

It was cruel and manipulative but it had been effective. He’d bought Anakin’s devotion for cheap and built the kind of dependence that had survived even after his death. Would continue to survive even; for Anakin to accept that he’d been manipulated would mean accepting that the only acceptance he’d received for parts of himself that weren’t all… good had not been genuine. It had little to do with how he felt about the man himself and everything to do with Anakin’s own fragile sense of self – and yet it looped back to Palpatine again, because that fragile sense of self had been the foundations that the man had built on.

How hard would it be to make sense of all of that? How much simpler would it be to run to the other side of the galaxy and try to be someone else, anyone else?

No wonder he didn’t want to talk to Padmé – she’d have seen right through him and he’d have to confess to the fact that the whole time while she waited for him to come to her with his problems, he was deliberately going to someone else.

“Not impossible but…” Sola trailed off, looking desperately for a way to tell him how little it mattered if Palpatine had held affection for him or not. It had to be something that even Anakin could not contest, no matter how hard he wanted to cling to his truth.

“He hurt you.” She finished eventually and she knew she’d lost him at that point. “It doesn’t matter if he did it from the place of someone who considered you to be special to him. It’s still awful and I’m sorry.”

He eyed her warily; if this was a test, Sola knew she had failed it. But whatever he saw had cooled his anger anyway.

“I never understood why people say they’re sorry. Why would you be sorry? He did do that and I don’t forgive him for it,” he agreed, surprising her. “I think. But what does that matter? It was because he felt like killing me slowly that I was able to kill him and survive. And I’m glad I’m alive. I’d like to see my children grow up.”

So he said, Sola mused, but he still sounded so sad about it.

“It’s alright if you miss him,” she told him, trying to sound neutral. “Regardless of what he’s done and planned to do, taking your friend's life couldn’t have been easy.”

He was silent for a bit. His face had settled into something unreadable; and then he threw his head back and sighed deeply, looking up at the stars.

“Can I tell you something? Just… don’t tell Padmé. You can’t tell her.”

Oh boy, Sola thought to herself.

“I won’t,” she replied cautiously, wondering which horrific, disturbing thing he was going to throw at her now.

“If I’m honest? I regret it. I didn’t want to kill him. It’s the only thing the Council has ever approved of and I didn’t even do it willingly.”

Sola tried to keep her face neutral but she couldn’t keep the tightness in her muscles from relaxing. He noticed – of course he did.

“That’s… reasonable, I think. It’s your whole life, reduced to killing one man and they’re not acknowledging what he meant to you.”

“What’s with that look?” He demanded, hardly waiting for you to finish. “What did you think I was going to say?”

“I just… expected something worse,” Sola defended. “You were saying some pretty awful things earlier and you didn’t go out of your way to make sure Padmé doesn’t know. It’s never a good sign when someone specifies that their wife can’t know about something.”

He stared at her and she fidgeted uncomfortably until it suddenly hit her how her words could be taken and her heart skipped a beat.

“Wait, no, I didn’t mean to imply that –”

“I’m married ,” he stressed. “I’d never .”

“I know . That just came out so wrong. I’m so sorry.” 

If a hole suddenly opened in the ground below, Sola thought she would just toss herself in. It wasn’t even the first time she’d put her foot in her mouth in front of Anakin – she distinctly remembered calling her mother a slavedriver to his face and the judgemental way he looked at her then. She’d made a horrible impression.

“...to be fair, I never did really find out why he specifically picked me,” he said in a strange tone. It took her a moment to realize that he was trying to placate her by turning it into some kind of macabre joke.

“Don’t joke about it. He – You – You can’t just joke about that,” she gaped. Then hesitantly, she added: “You’re joking, right? He wouldn’t…?”

“Probably not. No, I doubt it. There were other reasons why he’d want me on his side as his apprentice, I suppose. If he asked anything, it’d probably be to kill for him, given how he’d lost his last attack dog.” He looked darkly amused at that.

“Kill…? Wait, you mean, the Jedi…?”

He tilted his head and shrugged, a strangely boyish way of saying he didn’t know and didn’t care to find out. But his face was serious, with a strange feverish intensity. 

“I wouldn’t let Padmé die. If I had the time to think about it, I’d have done anything to save her. Anything .”

For the first time, Sola felt something like fear. 

He means it, she realized, He really does . He meant it just as intensely as Padmé meant her ‘ I’ll take him as he is ’.

Her chest seized painfully and the summer air suddenly felt far too chilly. In the darkness, Anakin’s eyes seemed to reflect moonlight, expectantly. 

“She wouldn’t have wanted that,” she said softly. “It’d break her heart.”

“But she’d be alive. The baby – the children – would be alive. If it were you, wouldn’t you do the same?”

He needed, desperately, for her to agree so he could believe himself, she realized. But Sola was not Palpatine. She could not sit there and give him the absolution when they both so clearly knew that it wasn’t right.

“I don’t know. But I don’t think I could kill anyone,” she evaded, bouncing her foot.

That feverish intensity deflated a bit, as if he realized at once who he was speaking with.

“...right. That’s… good honestly. It’s hard at first – I wish, sometimes, that it stayed hard.”

It was hard to keep up when he switched up on her like that – from some kind of deluded righteousness to self-deprecation, without as much as a warning. In this one conversation, Sola thought, he had to contradict himself at least a few times. It was like he was all fire and no stability. 

She felt horribly unsettled – for him, because of him, she couldn’t tell. Probably a bit of both.

“I’m glad you didn’t get the chance to agree. Padmé is alive and well, and so are the twins. And who knows if he was telling the truth to you anyway? He’d been lying about everything else.” But that wasn’t working, he would not consider it. She could see it in his eyes. “I mean, think about it, if Count Dooku gave you the same offer, would you accept it?”

“Of course not, Dooku was –”

“–a Sith Lord?” Sola cut in. “Not trustworthy? An enemy? Why exactly is Palpatine your exception?”

This part had hit – and at the same time she knew she’d gone too far. They both knew exactly what made Palpatine an exception.

“It’s not the same.” There was an angry petulance to him But Sola was raising pre-teens – she was familiar with the emotion. It didn’t cover up the thinly-veiled desperation or the shame quite as well as he seemed to think it did.

It was also how she knew that he would not budge, no matter what she said. It was all tangled up, all of it, into this horrible mess years in the making and she wasn’t the right person – he’d let her see, maybe, but not touch.

Padmé could, probably – but he would not bring it to Padmé.

She rested her eyes on the sky above. It was so clear tonight. She could see every star and the faint colourful outlines of distant nebulas. It mattered so little, what she or any of them said or did. The starlight had travelled millions of years to reach them and it’d continue to do so, with or without them.

But if Anakin had made a different choice – or perhaps, if a different choice had been made for him… Well, the stars would probably still be there, she supposed. But it would have mattered in ways in which her own life would never compare.

Unfair as it was, it really was the truth of it – that his whole life, the misery and the glory of it both, could be reduced to him killing one man.

She closed her eyes.

“Alright, I shouldn’t assume.”

He didn’t like that, she could sense, but he’d already had one argument tonight and she would not be giving him another. His dissatisfaction had a physical presence – like most of his emotions. It had to be the Force. She wondered if all Jedi felt like that – like cauldrons, spilling out into the open air.

“You should come inside. It’s late and Padmé is probably wondering where we are.”

“...are you sure she didn’t put you up to this?”

Bless his heart, he really is trying.

“If she had put me to it, I’d probably be telling you that you should go to her and tell her everything you’ve told me.” She straightened up, cracking her back and dusting her skirt. “Good thing she didn’t put me up to it, huh?”

He didn’t say anything to that. His head was observing a spot between the ground and the horizon.

“Are you coming?” 

“Go ahead,” he said. “I’ll… just take a bit. The twins are sleeping right now, but you can tell Padmé I’ll take the night shift.”

She’d left him like that, a lonely figure on the steps to the villa. When she returned, Padmé was waiting for her at the door, her arms crossed and brows tight. Once she saw Sola was alone, her frown only deepened.

“Well?”

“I think you were right earlier. He doesn’t like it, but he doesn’t want to fight. You’ll probably get to talk it out later,” Sola told her. “Also he says he’s taking the night shift.”

Padmé scrutinized her.

“Is that all you talked about? You sure took an awful long time.”

“Pretty much.”

〰 〰 〰 〰 〰

Sola hadn’t quite recovered from all of this yet when the next afternoon, their doorbell rang. She’d been in the middle of helping her mother clean the table after lunch; when they heard it, they both stopped and exchanged a look.

“Are we expecting guests?”

“I’ll get it,” Sola offered and then hurried before her mother could stop her. 

Their unannounced visitor was a middle-aged human male, dressed in the rich red of Naboo officials, with a sash tied around his waist and thrown over one shoulder. One of his hands was clenched around the sash, raised against his chest while the other held a briefcase. Sola’s eyes stopped on the embroidery on his chest: a slitherfish, twisted in the shape of an hourglass. A lawyer.

“Can I help you?”

The man’s eyes were steady and piercing and there was a strange curiosity to them. He seemed to look right pass Sola, as if she held no interest for him.

“I’m looking for Anakin Skywalker. I’ve been told I might find him at this residence.”

His eyes flickered to the side, trying to see over her shoulder. Having absolutely none of it and fuelled by some kind of defensiveness, Sola moved and blocked his view. She leaned against the doorframe and pulled the door as closed as she could without locking herself out.

“May I acquire who’s asking?”

He seemed annoyed at the assumption he had to explain himself.

“My name is Ran Potoki. I would like to speak with Mr. Skywalker on behalf of the will of the late Sheev Palpatine.”

Chapter Text

They sat the lawyer at the table in her father’s library. Something about the old and stuffy air in there felt appropriate for the occasion and most importantly, it happened to be one of the only parts of the house not cluttered with children’s toys.

Her mother had hurried to bring tea and biscuits. Mr. Potoki appeared to have expected to receive refreshments; he’d taken his time, settling his briefcase on the floor and making smalltalk about the books he recognized and the kind of weather they’d had lately. Once served, he elected to indulge on the tea first; and then the snacks, citing his long journey.

“You’re a difficult man to track down, Mr. Skywalker. If I may suggest, setting up a permanent residence on your records might be beneficial for you in the future.”

Anakin wasn’t eating. Or drinking for that matter. He stared unblinking across his teacup with crossed arms and a sharpness in his eyes that seemed tailored perfectly for the stern lines of his face. It was quite impressive how effectively he could exert his will without saying a word.

She’d been tempted, at first, to simply slam the door in the man’s face even though she knew the compulsion to be beyond silly. The matters of the laws were inescapable – you could reject the messenger but never the message. She’d worried how she’d break the news to Anakin and where exactly his mind might run with it but as it turned out, this matter, too, was out of her hands. Anakin hadn’t needed to be summoned. The moment she had invited Mr. Potoki inside, he’d stalked out of some doorway, though whether he knew what was it about or not was up in the air. She could never figure out just how far his abilities went and she had the distinct impression he much preferred it that way.

All that aside, he’d taken the news rather well. Perhaps that had been a mistake on her end: assuming troubles made him fragile in the way that an old building was fragile. With the threat of collapse hanging so heavily you could feel it leaking into the present moment before the first brick even fell. That was not his nature, Sola had been learning. Whatever sensitive, tender flesh Anakin nursed at his core was buried deep under layers of steel and bone.

She was reminded that he’d been a prominent Republic General. Upsetting news or not, he did possess some capacity for professionalism.

Faced with poignant silence, the lawyer cleared his throat awkwardly and got to the point.

“I understand that this is something of a surprise to you. Certainly, in most circumstances it would not take this long for a will to be processed but due to the… situation, we required the state approval. It was quite a tricky scenario, you see – in Naboo’s law, you usually cannot collect inheritance from someone whose life you’ve taken.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Sola saw Padmé lean against the table, reaching subtly for her husband’s hand. They did not need to share a look; a squeeze of their entwined fingers seemed to be all the communication necessary. 

“I believe those laws specifically refer to first-degree murder.”

“So they do,” he agreed lightly. “Second-degree as well. I know that the charges against Mr. Skywalker have been dropped but given the ongoing investigations into the Chancellor’s dealings, the matter passed into the hands of the state regardless and they were very much inclined to seize the assets. The War, you understand, emptied the royal treasury quite successfully and the Royal Houses don’t much like the idea of their titles passing to an off-worlder. Let alone someone lacking a certain… pedigree , so to say. I believe the Jedi Order also wished to personally investigate the Convergence – House Palpatine’s ancestral home that is – and seize any potentially harmful objects but their appeal was processed and rejected at the time, given their involvement in the case.”

“At the time,” Anakin repeated tightly. “What about now?”

“Any further investigation on the property will require the owner’s permission.” Mr. Potoki gave Anakin a thoughtful look from beneath his bushy eyebrows. Satisfied with what he found, he clicked his tongue. “You shouldn’t worry – the legal concerns of the property have already been handled for the most part. There are no ongoing issues to be concerned about. You’ll need to sign a few documents first, of course, and they’ll have to be processed but–”

“–Right, I get it. When was this will written again?”

He tried his best to sound casual but Sola didn’t miss the way her sister’s hand tightened in another gentle squeeze, her delicate bones jutting against the skin. 

“Let’s see… something over a decade ago, I think? There had been some minor changes, but I believe that the Chancellor had clearly intended to leave his assets to you for some time, indeed. That had swayed the Court’s decision on the matter quite heavily. Did you not know?”

Anakin’s jaw twitched ever so slightly but otherwise he might as well have been carved from stone.

“What assets are we talking about here?”

Sola exchanged a look with her father. With a solemn headshake, he signaled to her to leave it to the lawyer so she did.

It was a question no citizen of Naboo would feel the need to ask. The Royal Houses did not deal with the matters of inheritance the way regular citizens did; they hung onto their prestige above all other aristocrats precisely because they consolidated power. To scatter their treasures and properties among many would be generous certainly, but not smart. Instead, they chose a single heir – to inherit everything. For Naboo’s aristocratic children, this was the drive to involve themselves in the world of politics early. To prove themselves. To evoke dignity and prodigiousness. They’d either get everything or nothing at all. What greater curse and greater blessing than to be chosen? 

Anakin couldn’t know what the three of them had known from the beginning, though. She could see the slow realization on his face as the lawyer started listing and didn’t stop. 

By the time he received a stylus and a stack of flimsy, he looked nothing short of overwhelmed. He scratched his name on the appropriate part of the form and then stopped and stared blankly. Next to him Padmé and her father both looked like they desperately wanted to snatch the stylus out of his hands.

Mr. Potoki cleared his throat.

“Shall I give you some time to discuss in private?”

“Please,” Padmé asked.

Her mother rose from her chair elegantly.

“Let me show you the gardens, Mr. Potoki. You ought not visit Lake Country without experiencing the nature here.”

The moment he was out of sight, Anakin turned towards Padmé.

“What’s my personal registration number?” He whispered furiously. 

Padmé had been about to say something but the words on the tip of her tongue had been exchanged for a look of surprise. She licked her lips.

“Your… personal registration number? Ani, are you going to sign this?”

“...Should I not?”

“I thought you might not want to,” she prodded carefully, reaching for his hand again. “You don’t need to accept this, you know.”

“And you certainly don’t have to decide immediately. You can take some time to think things over,” her father jumped in. “It’s never good to sign anything in a rush.”

Anakin considered that with a frown but he allowed Padmé to take the stylus from him. 

“I thought that only applied to contracts.”

“Everything is a contract of some kind, love.” Padmé pulled the sheet of flimsy closer, flipping through the individual pages. “Especially coming from politicians. Never agree to anything without first reading the fine print.”

She scanned through the pages so quickly that Sola doubted she was even retaining anything, let alone reading the fine print but she supposed Padmé knew just what to look out for, being a member of the exact demographic she was cautioning Anakin against. Some kind of catch, she supposed, something that would stand out. No doubt Padmé was not inclined to trust Palpatine, even if she would not admit it so bluntly.

Sola had no experience in the matter, but she could not disagree with the sentiment.

If it was from Palpatine, it likely was a contract, somehow. Through the act of transaction, the giver and the receiver are forever linked – that was what her father always warned about. Even an honest act of generosity could function as a leash, if you allowed it to bind you.

She thought that for Anakin, this would be a temptation he didn’t need.

He put an end to Padmé’s furious browsing with a gentle tug at her wrist, freeing the flimsy from her grip.

“I don’t see the harm. If I don’t take it, someone else will.”

“The state probably,” Ruwee mused. “And then from there, the other Royal Houses will split it among themselves. Some of it will maybe tickle down to the people, but I wouldn’t hold my breath. It’s just how these things work.”

“Right. I’d rather take it and give it to someone who deserves it.” Anakin sounded more sure of himself now, like he’d found his commitment. “There’s a lot you can do with this kind of money.”

“A charity?” Sola suggested. “That’s a sweet idea. There’s quite a lot of them here on Naboo.”

He blinked as if that was only just now occurring to him.

“That’s certainly an option.”

“What were you thinking?” Padmé prodded.

“Nothing… concrete, really.” Anakin deflected with a touch of something she could only call shyness , of all things. “Just some ideas. It’s not important, we can decide later.”

“ Uh-huh .” Padmé sounded deeply unimpressed; she waited a few beats to see if he’d elaborate then sighed, silently accepting that he would not. “Alright, but is it worth relying on Palpatine’s money? You can’t tell me there’s not some baggage attached to that. Don’t just think about what you can do with it, think about yourself too.”

He stared down at the documents, topped with the half-filled front page. His hand half-heartedly reached for the scarf; just before he could start tugging at it, he caught himself and let it drop. A weary silence wound itself around the open question – weary, because Sola thought that it was obvious to everyone looking in that the resignation on Anakin’s gaunt face was already an answer. 

“I have a friend who works in law back in Theed,” her father started slowly, leaning back in his chair. “He’s a Professor at the Veruna Law Academy. Perhaps I could let him take a look, just to make sure there’s no hidden loopholes. You certainly don’t want to inherit any debts he might have had, for example. And I couldn’t help but note that while he left you all of his assets, he didn’t leave you the title. That’s rather unprecedented; if any of his properties are connected specifically to House Palpatine, distant relatives could contest your claim.”

“That’s reasonable.” Anakin allowed, unhappy. “I would rather avoid going to any more courthouses, if I can.”

“You can get it done while I’m in Theed,” Padmé suggested like she’d been waiting on it. “We can go together and Ani can have about a week to think about it.”

Padmé, Sola thought, was such an optimist.

For a moment, she thought Anakin might use this opportunity to push for accompanying Padmé to Theed again but he didn’t comment on it. She wondered if it ever occurred to him.

It was a good plan, in any case. Sola knew their mother would probably be reassured by the fact Padmé wouldn’t be traveling alone and it let them give the lawyer a rough time frame. 

He’d been happy enough to let them take some time; the way he looked at Anakin, Sola thought he probably just wanted to make a good impression. Realizing that someone felt that way about her brother-in-law was a strangely entertaining train of thought.

She did not know why she decided to go with Anakin when he accompanied the man to the door; she simply knew that at that moment, she didn’t want him to be alone. Padmé and their father had stayed with the documents, presumably impatient to start discussing whatever honest thoughts they couldn’t voice before but as much as Sola wanted to hear what they had to say, she felt like this was more important.

Just before he left, Mr. Potoki stopped and settled his briefcase against the floor, working at the clasps with the professional ease of someone who had done this same routine a hundred times.

“I understand you don’t want to immediately claim the assets, but before I go, I must inform you that there are a few items that our late Chancellor requested that I deliver personally. I have them with me today, if you’d like to take a look…?”

For a moment, Anakin glanced at Sola as if in search of guidance; before she could even think of saying anything, he already came to a decision.

“Go ahead.”

The items in question were not anything much: a handwritten sheet of flimsy with his final regards, a holoprojector with a single image of Palpatine with Anakin in his early teens at some kind of celebration and an intricate pyramidical object made from a dark metal.

Anakin’s skin went a few shades paler and he stilled completely, as if his body was suddenly submerged in icy water. Sola didn’t think he was even breathing.

Mr. Potoki held the open briefcase in an offering for a few long moments. Then as his arms started shaking, he grew somewhat annoyed.

“You don’t have to accept today, of course. I simply wanted to inform you.”

It was only then that Anakin remembered to hurriedly accept. His hands were fumbling and unsteady and he held the objects away from his body as if he expected them to detonate at any moment – Sola didn’t miss that. A sense of unease yanked at the pit of her stomach.

“No need,” he said and his voice was strangely tight. “I’ll take them.”

“As you wish, just sign here…”

“Want me to hold anything for you?” Sola offered but he ignored her completely. He shoved the flimsy and the projector into the pockets of his loose coat; with the strange metal shape still in a white-knuckled grip he awkwardly scribbled his name on the offered datapad.

Sola shuffled nervously. The moment the lawyer finally left and the door closed behind him she could not contain a sigh of relief.

“Well, that was something. Do you think he actually needed those signatures or was he just too dignified to ask for an autograph?” She joked.

“Mhmm,” Anakin acknowledged her distractedly but his full attention was on the thing in his hand. He looked at it like it was a disgusting curiosity and he wanted to dissect it. She’d seen this exact kind of look on biology students before. What she didn’t understand was what prompted it now .

Curiosity got the better of her and she shifted just the slightest bit to get a closer look. It didn’t seem like much of anything to her. A paperweight, maybe, but it must have held some meaning for him.

“What is it?” 

Snapping back into the present, he snatched the object away from her protectively.

“A reminder.” He scowled and shoved it in the pocket with the rest. “Nothing you need to worry about. Excuse me.”

With that, he was off in a hurry, his long, dark coat trailing behind him like a shroud. 

〰 〰 〰 〰 〰

Padmé tracked her down later. Sola had put Pooja to bed and just closed her daughter’s bedroom door behind her and there her sister was, waiting in the hallway with her arms crossed.

“Would you go on a walk with me?” 

“Certainly.”  Even at this hour of the day, Sola could never quite bring herself to deny Padmé anything.

They took the path to the lake, relying on moonlight to show them the way. Padmé had hooked her arm around Sola’s, forcing them to walk in sync. They passed the part of the stairs where she’d found Anakin the other day and went further down.

“The children are being fussy again,” Padmé broke the silence eventually, swiping a stray lock from her face.

“Fussy,” Sola echoed, inspecting the careful wording. “Not like the other day, then?”

“No, thank Shiraya. They’re fine if you give them attention, not crying or anything. They just won’t sleep and the moment they feel neglected, they start whimpering.”

“I mean, is that not how they always are? They’re just not good sleepers.”

A warm wind swept past them, causing the leaves to rustle, covering the sound of their footsteps on stone.

“That’s right,” she said eventually in a careful tone. “But while I’m gone, they might act out again. That’s a possibility I have to account for.” 

“Are you having second thoughts?”

The moonlight was throwing soft shadows over Padmé’s face. They settled heavily around her eyelids, like a moon-given kind of weariness. 

“I should, should I not? But I’m not. I have to be there, I’m completely certain about that now. I was there to cast the vote of no confidence for Chancellor Valorum and wasn’t that the start of it? I got him into power. I have to be there at the end of it, to lay the tyrant to rest or I’ll never move past it. But the timing is… I don’t feel good about leaving now.” 

There was an unspoken question in her voice.

“Don’t worry. I’ll look after them,” Sola assured. She’d been expecting it – there weren’t that many things Padmé would want to talk about in private. “You don’t have to ask.”

“I hate to trouble you. You have your own family and Force knows I wasn’t any help back when your girls were young.”

“You act as if it’s some terrible work. Padmé, your children are my family too, of course I’ll help if I can. Anakin, too. I don’t like to watch him struggling.”

This close, she could smell the lake up ahead. Padmé slowed down, dipping her head in wordless gratitude.

“Me neither. A part of me feels dirty for going to Palpatine’s funeral and I know he doesn’t see it that way. Perhaps that’s exactly why it feels so wrong. This business with the will… I don’t like it. It’s cruel and deliberate – certainly, Palpatine had to know as he was planning for it that if he died, it’d be because his secret got out. And it’s how they say, you’ll catch more flies with honey. His letter was so horrible…”

It was somewhat unflattering that Sola was genuinely surprised that Anakin had even mentioned the letter, let alone shown it to her. But she supposed he was trying.

“What did it say?”

Padmé just shook her head.

“It was just full of pretty words. A lot of heartfelt sentiments. He certainly knew just what to say to make himself seem irreplaceable, I can’t believe I didn’t see that sooner. And Ani takes death very seriously, not like you or me or… most people, really. Losing people is incapacitating for him.”

‘I’d have done anything,’ Anakin’s voice echoed from the shadows around them, heavy and fearful. ‘ Anything.’

Sola swallowed down the heaviness that threatened to crawl up her throat. Clearly, Anakin was harmless now that he was no longer in the position to make calls about who lives or dies. That was how she’d explained it to herself. It no longer mattered what lines he would have crossed.

With Palpatine dead, there was no danger, regardless of how sweet and persuasive he was posthumously. He could not weaponize this loss – so why go so far?

That was what Padmé had meant when she called it cruel, Sola realized. 

“I imagine he’s not taking it so well, then,” she tried carefully, though she didn’t expect Padmé to do more than brush it aside with what might as well be her own private expression of pity. 

“It’s just the timing that’s horrible. It’s going to stress him out. I thought, if I can somehow make things just a little bit easier for him by asking you for help, I’ll leave with a lighter heart.”

“You don’t need to worry about it at all. I’ll keep an eye on all three of them.”

Admittedly, this felt like a hefty task. She understood by now, despite how diplomatic Padmé had been about it, that Anakin’s illness was not just a physical thing and navigating it felt like trying to build without quite knowing the laws of physics governing her work. She couldn’t know what would stick and what would bring the walls down on her until the moment she did it. But if she could somehow alleviate her sister’s anxiety, she would take those risks.

In the end, Padmé would build her own peace of mind – Sola saw now how foolish it was to assume that that was something another person could grant you – but these small things she could help with.

“Please. I’ll sleep easier for it,” she said, gracefully stepping off the last step and onto the sandy beach. “I think Ani’s fond of you, you know. Mom and Dad intimidate him a bit. Anyway, I’m only asking in case he can’t look after the twins on his own for some reason. Between their – ah – moods and his health and now this , I felt like it’s safer to plan ahead but I don’t want to put him on the spot.”

“Is he now?” Sola felt a smile tug at the corners of her lips. Privately, she had thought that the opportunity to make a good impression had slipped past her fingers for good; there was that itching feeling that she’d failed him in the course of their conversation and she had the strongest impression that Anakin was not keen on giving second chances.

Or maybe he was. 

“Does that surprise you? I’ve never known anyone to dislike you.”

“Well, not dislike maybe… I don’t take the risks you do. I can’t say I’ve even had trouble with people but… I’m not exceptional . Nothing like – you know – nothing like the two of you.” Padmé looked at her with a small frown so Sola felt pressed to add: “And I don’t mean this in a self-deprecating way. I’m truly satisfied with who I am. It’s just truth of the matter that my life is very different from yours.”

Her sister’s frown relaxed and she looked at her with amused disbelief.

“It truly seems so. Sola, take my word for this, but among ambitious high-achievers and their crowds, there is nothing more exceptional than kindness. And I mean true, uncomplicated kindness. I appreciate it more than I can say. We both do.”

She sounded so earnest that Sola didn’t know what to say. In the warm night, she felt somewhat vulnerable and bare. The intensity of Padmé’s appraisal of her character filled her with a restless energy, like her skin was being overwritten with standards she couldn’t possibly keep up.

What could she say to that? More than anything, she felt disturbed by just how delighted her sister was by the bare minimum.

“Huh. The more you say, the more I wonder about life on Coruscant. Was basic human decency truly that hard to come by? Guess that’s why things are the way they are now.”

Padmé seemed taken aback by the change in topic. The sound of her footsteps in the sand slowed and Sola matched her pace.

“It wasn’t bad, or well, not exactly. There were many decent people – good people, even. My team was wonderful and I love Bail with all my heart. And… others , though their names wouldn’t mean much to you. But even with these few precious people, things just seemed so… bleak, for quite some time. I don’t know – have you ever felt like you simply didn’t have the words to talk with someone? All that kindness, but it was delivered through a glass wall. I’m not making any sense, am I?”

“It was the War. I’d imagine it’d be hard to unwind and be honest with each other, when you have all that tension around you.”

“That played a part, I’m sure. We grew detached. I think this is why I dreamed of coming back here from the beginning. In my mind, I thought Naboo might just… reset things and I wouldn’t have to think about it much.” She slowed down even more until she came to a stop. With a thoughtful precision, she turned to face the lake. The wind cast small waves along the surface, disturbing the moonlight reflected there. Sola had to admit that it made for a pretty sight.

“Sometimes, a hard reset is exactly what you need. There’s no shame in it.”

“I know. Things seem clearer now. When I’m in Theed – Mom said we should let one of the aunties host us, by the way – I’m going to look for a job.”

She phrased her statement with full confidence. Sola felt her own heart lighten a bit – this was exactly in line with the Padmé she’d known. 

“I see she finally got her way with the aunties. She’s just waiting to show off the twins, you know. She was going to invite them over and all. Anyway, what kind of job are you thinking of?”

Padmé shrugged.

“I’ll speak with some people first and see where I’m needed. It doesn’t really matter what I do, just that it’s meaningful – and not too consuming. I’ve learned my lesson there.”

Sola had her doubts about that; these kinds of lessons tended to take a while to learn, with steps both forward and backwards. But at least while the twins were young and she had her hands full, she imagined Padmé would truly be perfectly satisfied with something more modest in terms of a career.

“I’m sure you’ll find something. Naboo’s lost quite a few public servants lately, so there should be a few empty spots.”

“Don’t even start. It’s an embarrassment. If I was still in the Senate, I’d have been mortified.”

“I am mortified. I had to find a brand new logistician and now I have Geeb .”

Padmé laughed at her.

“Oh, come on. Is he that bad?”

“Well,” Sola considered playfully, “he is getting me a Republic warship. The previous guy would have told me to get bent if I asked him to get me one. No wonder he turned out to be a treacherous bastard.”

“So you’re going with that design then?” Her sister asked as they started heading back. “It’s a good one, in my opinion. It has a message.”

“The message was the most problematic part of it, honestly. That’s why I struggled. It’s… delicate. I’m still not fully settled on the specifics, but I’m certain I want to use the ship. And I’ve been thinking – while I was doing research I found some examples of Clone art. I want to take inspiration from that.”

“I see,” Padmé hummed thoughtfully. “That’s a wonderful idea. I think people could certainly use a reminder that the Clones are people. And that they won the War for us. There are a few crucial legislations that still need to be passed.”

“That’s exactly it. I thought from the start, I’d like to celebrate the people – on both sides of the War. Not the soldiers. I don’t think we need more of that.” A good memorial, in Sola’s opinion, should not draw on the traumas and the glum parts alone. When you build something like that, you just add a scar to the landscape for an eternity – or until eventually someone tears it down.

Sola thought she’d rather build something that made people feel seen. Something that would neither grow into a painful reminder, nor fade out of relevance once the passage of time turned this whole mess into just one more bloody footnote in a history oversaturated with them.

On the way back, she found herself thinking of the late Chancellor once again. And of remembrance – and what it could mean to people. It really was such tricky business. Nobody liked to say it out loud but the truth of it was that remembrance of the dead should be done to benefit the living.

〰 〰 〰 〰 〰

The next day, Padmé left for a fitting with her parents at a nearby tourist settlement. The tailor was an old friend of their mother’s and he’d designed many of the outfits she had worn as the Queen. Busy though he was with the upcoming Water Festival, he was happy to accept a last minute request from his old customer.

Sola had been tempted to take a day off and go with them. She had fond memories of that little village, with its homely pubs and cottages designed to evoke the culture of early Naboo settlers. She recalled there being claw machines and stands selling delicious baked jogan fruit on a stick, along with all kinds of traditional pastries – in retrospect, everything that a little girl might want from her trip. 

It had made for some magical childhood memories.

But years wiser now, she understood that this magic would not carry into adulthood. All she could think about now were the crowds, the overinflated prices and the tourist traps. It’d be worth it to see the Festival and she was tempted to take her girls when that happened — but just to wander around aimlessly while her sister got her funeral outfit designed? She’d pass.

She took Ryoo and Pooja to see the shaaks instead. The weather was nice and she tried to entice Anakin to take the twins and come along to no result. He was in a horrible mood and could not be persuaded to leave the house. He did however kindly dispose of the spider that Ryoo found in her room before they left.

Sola wondered at which point her daughters had decided that he was their emergency bug-removal service. 

In any case, she’d endeavoured for a calm day. By the time they returned, overheated and mosquito-bitten from their shaak adventure, Padmé and her parents were already back with a few brand new outfits, all wrapped up and ready to be packed. The old tailor had been quick with the designs; and his droids had worked overtime to take care of the rest.

Then, in the middle of dinner, the bell rang.

Immediately, all conversation came to a halt. Sola tried to inconspicuously glance around and check if anyone looked like they were expecting visitors, though she could already guess what the answer would be.

“Well… is anyone going to get that?” Padmé cleared her throat after a moment, awkwardly raking her fingers through her hair. “I would, but I’m really not dressed for it.”

She was, in Sola’s opinion, dressed just fine, if one ignored the subtle spots where her children had drooled on the neckline of her tank top. But by her sister’s standards, that had to count as embarrassingly casual.

“Right in the middle of dinner.” Her mother groused as she stood up, wordlessly volunteering herself for the task. “How rude, who would–”

She didn’t get to finish before Anakin lurched out of his seat, spooking the twins in the process. Sola could hear the soft impact of him crashing into the staircase as he rounded the corner and was betrayed by his own momentum, followed by a muffled swear.

“Well.” Padmé repeated, annoyed now. She put her fork down and pulled the crib closer.“Shh, shh, don’t cry, please. Leia, come on… That’s a good girl. I think this narrows the list a bit – and I hope you don’t mind some guests.”

Her parents exchanged a silent look. 

“In the middle of dinner.” Her mother shook her head with disbelief. She had that sharp, observant look again, like she understood something that Sola didn’t. “Should I expect trouble?”

“Let’s see who it is, first. But if I’m right… then no. They’re like family.”

Sola had to admit she was a little bit curious; and her intrigue only grew once she actually saw the guests.

Jedi Master Kenobi she recognized from the holos, though the man looked a bit more haggard and worn-out in real life. The Clone and the nervous teenage Togruta were unfamiliar, however. But whoever they were, Anakin knew them well.

“What are you doing here? Did something happen?” He was hovering around the door as if he wasn’t sure if he should invite them in or slam the door in their faces.

Something passed through the young Togruta’s face.

“You’re –” She stumbled over her words. Her arms twitched like she thought about going for a hug but aborted the idea. “I mean – No. Hello. You’re speaking.”

“Yeah, well.” Anakin said, leaning on the door. “I do that sometimes. So is there an emergency or not?”

“Ah, this is more of a…” Master Kenobi started.

“ –A social visit. If you don’t mind.” The Togruta finished.

“Yes, thank you Ahsoka. If you don’t mind. It is good to hear your voice again, my friend.”

“A social visit…” Sola could not see Anakin’s face but she could see him back away from the door a bit, though he still sounded suspicious. “We were in the middle of dinner, you know. Would it kill you to announce yourself ahead of time?”

“You made that a bit difficult, I’m afraid. You should really consider adding a permanent residence to your files. Or buying a comm.”

That last part was with the pointedness that hinted that the man knew perfectly well that Anakin did in fact own a comm. 

At that point, Padmé pushed past Sola, having left the children with Threepio for a few moments and Anakin wordlessly turned to her for permission. Only after receiving her nod did he finally step away and fully opened the door.

“I’ve been told that recently, yes. I had no idea I was so popular. Come on, get in.”

As if he just now realized that the rest of them existed, he gave a quick, apologetic introduction. Sola felt like everyone already recognized Master Kenobi and the Clone was called Rex, Anakin’s former second-in-command. The Togruta, whom Padmé immediately pulled for a hug. was Ahsoka, his old apprentice. All of the sudden she didn’t seem to care so much about how she was dressed; if Anakin was suspicious and on-edge, then Padmé was practically glowing. 

“Lady Amidala, you are looking well. I truly apologize for ruining your dinner.”

Padmé waved him off, laughing.

“It’s alright, Obi-Wan. I’m always happy to see a friend. How have you been? I hope it was not too much trouble finding us here.”

“Oh, not at all. Senator Organa was kind enough to give me the address.”

“Then what’s the issue?” Anakin demanded, half-serious. “You come here – unannounced – and the first thing you do is start nagging me.”

His complaints got ignored.

“And you two – Captain, Ahsoka – I hope you’ve been well. I never got the chance to thank you. Without you, I feel like the results of the trial would have been a lot different.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Anakin rolled the edge of his scarf between his fingers like it was suddenly the most fascinating thing. “And actually, love, it’s Commander now.”

“Ah, sir, it’s alright, Captain is–”

“You earned that promotion, Rex. And you really don’t need to call me ‘sir’ anymore.”

Rex didn’t seem to know what to do with that. He shifted the bag he had slung over his shoulder and somehow stood up even straighter.

“Yes… sir .”

There was a heartbeat of silence as Ahsoka tried to wiggle out of Padmé’s grip, jittery and flushed.

“You really don’t need to thank us.” Her sharp canines worried on her lower lip. “But I… I mean, we…”

“Yes?” Padmé prompted patiently, one hand still on the girl’s bony shoulder. Anakin’s apprentice she might have been, but Sola could see that Padmé loved her dearly too.

“We’d like to see the babies!” She blurted out. Then, having gotten that out she seemed to relax a little. “I still can’t believe it, truly. I have so many questions.” She directed the last bit at Anakin who looked oddly abashed.

“I feel like things should be quite clear in that department.” He spoke evenly but the way his eyes darted to where Master Kenobi stood betrayed him. He was, Sola was realizing, extremely nervous – she had not considered before now how his secret marriage might have factored in the state of his relationships with the Jedi. 

Master Kenobi kept his arms crossed under his robes with a calm grace as he talked with her mother but something about it nonetheless felt forbidding to Sola. She thought he might have liked to say something to Anakin if they were in private, but as it were, he seemed perfectly comfortable putting in distance between himself and the very person he came to visit.

Sola thought about it as the guests were led to the living room and she helped her mother rush to clean up the remains of their unfinished dinner.

Between what Anakin had said and what the HoloNet did, Sola had to admit she’d expected someone… different. Colder, perhaps. But from the way Master Kenobi knelt down to talk with her daughters to the way he was holding Luke in his arms once she returned from the kitchen, she was starting to feel that was not it .

“Here, support the head like this,” Padmé was instructing Ahsoka. The poor girl was stiff from head to toe, as if she thought that at any moment Leia was going to lurch from her grip like a slippery Colo claw fish. 

Compared to her, Master Kenobi cradled Luke with the ease that even Anakin could not find something to hiss about – not that it stopped him from practically breathing down his neck anyway. But just for a few heartbeats, his shoulders relaxed and his face softened and she saw for the first time a hint of real affection behind the familiarity. 

“He remembers you,” he muttered. Sola didn’t understand how he knew – there was nothing in Luke’s actions that would give it away – but she believed in his breathless certainty anyway.

Padmé turned in their direction with a brief look of wonder.

“Does he? He must have a good memory. I believe Obi-Wan was the first person to hold him.” Even without looking up from the child, Master Kenobi must have heard the smile in her voice but he didn’t react. In fact, he stayed completely motionless, as if each idle human movement was a waste of his focus.

“His eyes are turning blue now,” he commented, almost to himself. He lightly stroked Luke’s cheek with the pads of his fingers and Sola felt as if she was witnessing something private. Anakin certainly didn’t seem to know what to do with the tenderness; he kept hovering with a pinched expression like a distressed mother gundark.  

“Not hers. Hers are still pretty dark.” Ahsoka declared, having to twist her neck to get a closer look at Leia’s face. She sniffed. “Aww, she has that new baby smell.”

It took her a moment to remember that Togrutas generally had a superior sense of smell. Sola saw both Commander Rex and Master Kenobi subtly bring their faces closer trying to confirm whatever it was she was noticing. This was finally too much for Anakin.

“Stop smelling my baby!”

“Sorry, Master. But she’s just so… tiny.” She didn’t sound particularly apologetic, nor particularly concerned. “And cute. It’s really weird to think that you were once like that too.”

“Not me.” He brushed her off, keeping his eyes strictly on what she was doing with Leia. “I was born with a full set of teeth and bit a handler within an hour of life. But they are pretty cute. They got it from Padmé.”

To her credit, Ahsoka rolled with that statement without thinking about it too much. 

“Yeah, that sounds like you.”

“Of course you did,” Master Kenobi tore his eyes away from Luke just to look at Anakin with that same amazed expression. He shook his head. “You truly are a wonder, my friend.”

“Excuse me? You certainly never mentioned that to me.” Padmé demanded, the first reaction that Sola felt was appropriate for… that .

“It isn’t that important.”

“Isn’t import–” She looked desperately around the room for a hint of agreement. When their eyes met, Sola shrugged. She was not equipped to deal with the logistics of that. “I don’t know how to tell you this but if they came out with teeth, it would have sent me to an early grave.”

“I suppose it’s very fortunate, then,” Master Kenobi said and this time Sola could hear the dripping amusement in tone, “that they take after their mother. Aside from being toothless, they’re well behaved, I assume?”

There was a moment of awkward silence. 

“Well…” Padmé started, grimacing.

“They’re angels.” Anakin insisted forcefully. He looked ready to snatch either of the babies away if anyone dared to disagree. “But they do drool like a pair of diseased beasts so watch those sleeves unless you packed a spare robe.”

His warning was heard, but not heeded. By the time her father came back with tea and they led their guests to the living room, there was more than one wet spot on Master Kenobi’s robe but he seemed reluctant to pass Luke back to his parents. Ahsoka on the other hand had handed over Leia first to her Clone Commander and then back to Padmé after Leia started getting fussy. 

It left her arms free to awkwardly try to give Anakin a quick embrace just before they all sat down. She attempted to be casual about it, but to Sola’s surprise, he wasn’t having it. The moment he noticed her intent, his whole attitude had changed and all of his aloofness vanished. He pulled her close with an intensity that came out of nowhere and Ahsoka physically struggled to crawl out of his grip when she had enough. She cleared her throat awkwardly.

“We got you your stuff. From the Temple,” a tilt of her head shifted their attention to the bag Rex was carrying. “It’s not much but…”

“Oh. I thought the cleaning droids would have thrown it out.” Anakin tried to be nonchalant. “Did you get–”

“ –Your podracing poster?” Ahsoka finished for him, taking a seat. “You bet. And the starship model and your sketchbooks. Obi-Wan saved it all before the cleaning crew heard you… left.” There was only the slightest hesitation before the last word but Anakin didn’t seem to notice. 

He turned on his heel to expectantly stare at his former mentor.

“Really? You… kept my things?” 

Master Kenobi was unruffled. He wiped a trail of saliva from the corner of Luke’s mouth with his bib.

“I threw out the garbage, don’t get too excited. It was for the sake of my reputation too – the whole Temple really doesn’t need to know that my apprentice regularly goes digging through the trash compactor.”

“Well, thanks, I guess.” The expectant gleam had gone from Anakin’s eyes, along from that brief moment of cheerfulness. 

The conversation they had over the tea was a light one. Mostly, Pooja and Ryoo wanted to know about battles and the Jedi and what it was like to ‘be an actual wizard’. It was the same routine they’d tried on Anakin before, but while his answers at the time had been laconic and unsatisfying, Master Kenobi indulged them with patience. Finally, Sola found a way to pry them away so the adults could talk in peace – all it took was allowing them to use her datapad for games.

“Sorry.” She apologized after they left. “They get a bit… excited.”

“Nothing to be sorry about, Ms. Naberrie. You have wonderful children. You should treasure their curiosity.” She noted that he spoke like a man two times his age – with the sadness of someone who had had and had lost.

If she had any lingering doubts about his nature, they vanished at that point. 

“Obi-Wan, what are things like on Coruscant?” Padmé asked the moment the girls had left and she was free to speak of the more serious topics. “I heard the protests are still going on. How is everyone at the Temple handling that?”

Straight to business, Sola thought to herself.

“It's a bit… tense,” he admitted. “It’s not a pleasant situation, by any means, but we'll survive.”

“Master Jedi, I was horrified to hear about what one of our own had intended.” Her father bowed his head in respect; once at Master Kenobi and once at Commander Rex. “Please, on behalf of Naboo, accept my apology. And you too, Commander. Please let me know if there is any way I can help.”

“That is – ah – very kind–”

“–You’re staying safe though, right?” Anakin cut in and his eyes brushed past all three of them before they finally settled on Ahsoka. “Wherever you’re staying, I mean. How did the three of you meet up anyway? And… how did it go on Mandalore?”

“That’s a lot of questions, Master,” Ahsoka said with a weak grin that showed all of her sharp teeth. “I’m fine. Rex and I have been working with the Clone Citizenship Initiative – the boys say hello, by the way, and they’d like some holos of the Skybabies. I tried to keep my head down but Master Kenobi contacted me about… something with Maul and we ended up talking a lot of things out and well, now I’m here. And Rex came with me, obviously.”

“What thing with Maul?” Anakin demanded. “Is he still alive? I thought the Council would have executed him by now.”

“A Jedi does not kill unarmed prisoners, you know that, Anakin.” Master Kenobi said dryly but Anakin didn’t budge.

“It’s Maul, ” he said, eyebrows going up.

“Maul was… the Sith Lord you fought on Naboo, right?” Padmé asked, bouncing Leia gently. “The one who…”

“The very one.” Master Kenobi confirmed tiredly. “He’s quite the monster, I won’t deny that. But the Council felt as if there was knowledge that could be gained from him. It wasn’t a pleasant experience interrogating him but–”

“–The Council sent you to interrogate him?” Anakin cut in again, this time with outrage. “After what he did? How dare–”

“–Anakin, stop . I volunteered.”

Anakin’s anger flickered out like a streetlight after you cut the power cord. He gave Master Kenobi a look of utter disbelief.

“You did? Why?”

“I happen to agree with them. Ahsoka told me about some of the things he had said to her on Mandalore. He… had a vision, it seems, about what was to come. I believed it was worth it, in order to find out what he knows.” He picked his words very carefully, like they might jump up and bite him – or more likely, to avoid upsetting Anakin. “At the end of the day, he’s very pitiable. I ended up feeling somewhat sad for him. He’s completely lost his sanity and now he’s going to spend the rest of his days in chains.”

“I don’t. A life in chains is still more than he deserves.”

His vehemence brought with it an aura of unease. Sola saw Ahsoka fidget and glance at Master Kenobi – who in turn frowned, looking at Anakin with something like grief.

He didn’t miss the exchange.

“What?” He snapped. “You’re obviously talking around something. Either get on with it or don’t bring it up if it’s not meant for us civilians. Don't tease me.”

“You’re no more civilian than Ahsoka is.” Master Kenobi pointed out. “It’s nothing like that, in any case. It’s just that you of all people should have a little empathy for Maul.”

Anakin’s eyes went wide; just for a brief moment there was a flicker of hurt before the gates of steel came rolling shut.

“What are you trying to say? So I’m like Maul now?”

“I didn’t mean to imply that, I simply–”

Ahsoka cleared her throat.

“I think Obi-Wan just meant because of what happened with the Chancellor. And how… Maul came into his care. He didn’t really have a choice. That part.”

Most of this conversation was going over Sola’s head – she didn’t know who Maul was or what he did. And this last bit had confused even Padmé.

But what she could gain from it was that the damage had been done, because Anakin clearly didn’t find her explanation convincing. Even though he elected to drop it, there was a hard set to his mouth and for the rest of the conversation, he sank into a mulish silence.

Somehow, that made the atmosphere more pleasant anyway, as Padmé took charge. She asked questions about all sorts of things – politics, mutual friends, their personal lives – and in turn talked about herself and her family. Sola didn’t want to be unfair and blame it all on Anakin. It was obvious that it wasn’t just his end of things that was emotionally charged.

Sola couldn’t help but wonder. Padmé had called them ‘like family’, and she wasn’t blind to what that meant. Just through their roles, they’d have been the closest thing to family that Anakin could have – and it showed. There was love to be found there.

But that left her wondering: where exactly had they been the whole time?

Padmé had implied that the two of them had been pretty much on their own after Anakin got released from prison – and the fact they were not aware that he was no longer mute confirmed that.

It seemed strangely contradictory; the very way through which they spoke to each other was contradictory. Like they were trying their best to act like satellites in orbit, only occasionally brushing against each other and then at the same time grieving the separation that each circle brought. 

Commander Rex was talking at this point; he spoke in fast, clipped sentences about a friend of his and his endeavour to sue the Techno Union for human experimentation and torture of prisoner of war. 

Sola could see that Anakin was trying to pay attention – the Clone from the story had to be one of his men too – but he was uneasy again. His hands worked rhythmically around his scarf. He pulled at the ends and then loosened it up again. And again and again. And when that was not enough, he started bouncing his knees. Every now he’d catch himself and stop but before long it started all over again.

She wasn’t the only one to notice it either.

Her parents tried to pretend they didn’t, of course. And Padmé tried in vain to catch his eye before giving up, having resigned herself to acting the part of a good host.

But her concern was not in the same vein as the way the other three would look at him. The Commander tried his best not to look and that was what gave him away. Ahsoka looked too much and started growing restless herself. And Master Kenobi was… Sola could not figure him out.

It occurred to her that it had to be different for them.

Where she had at first only seen a polite if strange young man, these people had known him before. How much of what he’d confessed to her on those stairs could they already implicitly understand? It had to be a feedback loop; because in turn, she knew it from Anakin’s own confession that he wanted to shy away from understanding. As if that might somehow soak the terrors out of his life and leave it unmarked and fresh. 

Eventually Leia started crying inconsolably and that put the end to the conversation.

“Alright, she’s had enough.” Padmé sighed when no amount of bouncing or cooing helped. Then, wiping the weariness from her face, she asked: “Would you like to see the nursery?”

The nursery at Varykino had been set up in a hurry. Previously, there had only been a single crib available and it had been used through generations. Her father had expanded it on the first day, to fit the twins – the two of them slept best when next to each other anyway. The decoration on the walls was old and faded. The little cartoonish spaceships had been there since Sola herself was a child and the glow in the dark stars had been added across the ceiling when Ryoo was born.

To Ahsoka though, that little nursery seemed like the most impressive thing. She traced the stickers with her fingers, lost in thought.

Sola watched her for a bit; and then she noticed Padmé trying to burn a hole Anakin with her eyes alone, followed jerking her head at the clutter on the single bed in the room. He was inspecting his prosthetic arm and didn’t seem to notice it so Sola poked him in the side. Snapping back to the present, he shamelessly started pushing the toys, towels and baby formula into a pile to the side so Padmé could sit.

“Sorry about the mess.” Padmé coughed awkwardly and shifted her grip on Leia. She had probably expected Anakin to be a bit more subtle about it. “I haven’t been expecting visitors.”

“It’s quite alright, Senator. It’s hardly the biggest mess I’ve ever seen.”

“You can keep your judgment to yourself,” Anakin drawled, annoyed. Sola swore she saw Master Kenobi’s lips twitch.

“ Now , did I say something about your–”

“–You thought it. At least I know where my things are. Might I remind you that between the two of us you’re the one who keeps buying socks and then losing them?”

“Hardly the only thing he loses,” Ahsoka muttered to the wall. She balanced on one foot with her arms twisted behind her back and her face was tilted curiously. “So they sleep here every night?”

“‘ Night ’ is a bit generous, I fear. But yes, during the day we try to take them with us to give them a bit of a change of scenery and then once everyone starts going to bed, we use the nursery since it’s sound-proofed,” Padmé explained and then winced when Leia let out another shrill wail. “I think you can see why that’s important.”

“At least you know her lungs are strong,” Ahsoka offered sympathetically.

“Should I put him down there?” Master Kenobi asked, referring to Luke who Sola had to admit was being curiously tranquil. The twins did not do everything together but usually if one of them got agitated to this degree, the other one soon followed.

She had half a mind to assume it was some kind of Jedi mind trick keeping him calm. But then Master Kenobi laid him down in the crib and Luke still didn’t start crying so she discarded that theory.

“Right,” Anakin said after performing an extensive search to make sure that Luke was lying down exactly right and hadn’t suffered any grievous injuries while being held by his former mentor. He crossed his arms and his expression was firm. “So why are you really here?”

Another one of Leia’s wails pierced the room and Sola nervously looked at Luke – who was happily chewing on his fist.

“What do you mean?” Ahsoka sounded nervous; but Anakin wasn’t paying attention to her anyway. He was looking straight at Master Kenobi ahead of him, who kept silent. All of his nervous energy from before seemed to have melted into this new, razor-sharp focus.

“You don’t take the time off for ‘ social visits ’. If you haven’t bothered before, you wouldn’t have now – you’re still busy, I’m sure. So why?”

“Has… Palpatine mentioned anything to you about any Holocrons?”

Oh, Sola thought as it settled like a puzzle clicking into place. Immediately, she felt like the man really shouldn’t have admitted to this.

“I knew it! You’re here because of the Convergence – because the Council sent you!” Anakin was breathless with anger. This was all the confession he needed. He jabbed a finger in Master Kenobi’s direction. “Did they think they’d get a better reaction if they sent you or was that your idea too?”

“It was my idea.” Master Kenobi was effortlessly calm. “I did want to see you and it was not my intention to deceive you. I understand I can’t command anything of you, so I come with a request. Anakin, if there are any Holocrons on the property – or any other Sith artifacts – you have to surrender them to the Order.”

“I have to? And what would the Order do with them?”

“Keep them from hurting anyone.”

“Study them, you mean.”

“...yes.” Master Kenobi frowned, as if that much should have been obvious. “We are talking about thousands of years of knowledge. Forbidden knowledge, certainly, but still better off not entirely unknown to us.” 

Anakin made a humorless sound.

“That’s rich. Well, I’m sorry Master, but I don't know about any Holocrons. And if I did, my answer would still be no. Whether you like it or not, the Chancellor left his property to me. That means all of it.”

“That is precisely what is concerning.”

“Why? Because he considered me a friend? Why is that so outlandish?” 

Master Kenobi’s composure finally broke; replaced by an incredulous expression.

“You can’t possibly be serious. Anakin, he was using you!”

“Alright, let’s just sit down and talk this out calmly–” Padmé tried.

“–And you weren’t?” Anakin spat out, before she could finish. “You’d have happily left me to rot on Tatooine if I didn’t happen to be just useful enough. You wanted to do it regardless. It’s not the condemnation you want it to be so save the scrutiny .”

Sola saw her sister wince and she shared her sentiment. This was shaping up to be an ugly fight . Perhaps it had been destined to go that way from the moment Anakin opened that door; or maybe even before that. She had the distinct impression that this wound had been festering for a while. All it needed to flare up was the right conditions.

If Anakin had been intending to cut deep, he’d certainly done his job right.

“That’s not –” Master Kenobi swallowed, full of grief. “If I could go back and change how I reacted back then, believe me that I would. I was too quick to judge. But you have to know that that simply isn’t true. I’ve only ever wanted the best for you.”

Anakin backed off in a way that reminded Sola of a wild animal. His eyes were wary and forbidding; a warning that with any wrong move, the teeth would come right back out. It just reaffirmed her belief that he'd already been upset from the get-go. He simply needed a reason.

“Right.” He took a deep breath. “But you’re still here doing the Council’s bidding.” The word ‘ Council ’ felt layered with meanings that Sola did not understand – but Master Kenobi faced that complexity head-on without flinching.

“I know we have made mistakes in the past but the Council does have your best interests at heart.”

“Do they? Or is it their best interests? Maybe when I was still in the Order you could tell me that those are one and the same but they aren’t.” Master Kenobi opened his mouth to speak but Anakin wasn’t finished. “I don’t want to hear your reassurances. Don’t tell me they’re fair.” 

“Oh, for – this is silly. It has nothing to do with the Council and everything to do with the fact that Chancellor Palpatine was a Sith Lord.”

“It has everything to do with the Council! I’m not stupid, they still think I’m a threat, even though I did everything they ever asked for. Don’t lie to me, they sent you here to–”

“–Where is this coming from? There’s no conspiracy against you. The mission they gave me was to retrieve potentially dangerous items.” Master Kenobi’s voice was no longer so even; frustration had given a hard edge to it. “You’re being unreasonable.”

Anakin threw out his arm in a wide motion. 

“Am I truly so unreasonable? I see how you look at me and they got rid of me the moment they could.”

“You’re angry,” he stated flatly, with annoyed disbelief. 

“ Yes, I’m angry. I think I’m allowed to be angry now. Or are you going to go and compare me to Maul again? Like I’m – like I’m a Sith Lord, already. What’s the point? You’ll all assume the worst of me anyway. So go ahead, tell me I’m unreasonable. ”

“That’s not what I – stop detracting. You’re angry about being expelled from the Order.”

Anakin was silent; his jaw tightened in a silent challenge.

“What did you expect? You got married, knowing you had a commitment to the Order and knowing that the Code forbids it. You can’t have it both ways. The Council ended up making the decision, yes, but the choice had always been yours.” This was treading on dangerous ground; and then, heedless of all the warning signs, Master Kenobi went in for the throat anyway: “We all have to deal with the consequences of our actions. You are no exception to that. Are you that unhappy with the life you have?”

“Master Kenobi, that’s–” Ahsoka tried in vain. 

“Don’t talk to me about consequences ! You have no right. You got to go after Grievous and became a war hero, I got treason and the executioner’s block.”

Master Kenobi frowned.

“I understand it feels unjust but that’s hardly the Council’s fault.”

“Isn’t it? They’re the one who told me to – I was only there because you sent me to him! You want to talk about consequences but I paid the price for your decision! You didn't even have the decency to stick around!” His voice broke into a hoarse whisper when he tried to raise it, yet it still hit like a physical blow. Sola saw Master Kenobi’s breath hitch and then finally something raw and true bubbled to the surface.

“Don’t you dare blame that on me!” He gripped the edge of the crib, hard. “Are you hearing yourself? Nobody told you to play the hero and confront the Sith Lord by yourself! That was both foolish and reckless and if you lost that fight, what then? Did you even think about that? Discredit the worth of your own life, if you will, I give up on teaching you otherwise, but we would have all died if–”

“– Play the hero? ” The attempt at screaming had cost Anakin his voice but it did nothing for the venom in it. He was shaking and his face was pale but Sola could tell he was moments away from lounging and turning this into a physical fight. The children were screaming. “You–”

The lights on the ceiling shattered; she barely had the time to gasp and jump back before broken glass started falling down on the floor, on the bed, on Luke in his crib.

“ Anakin! ” Padmé’s voice was sharp as a whip. She was ducking, covering Leia with her own body.

At once all that anger drained from him. He swayed, pale-faced and sweating.

“...I–”

“Get Luke!” She snapped but he didn’t seem to process it.

“I’ve got him.” Sola didn’t remember when she’d made it to the crib; one moment she was near the bed and next she was brushing the glass off a screaming Luke. “It’s fine, he’s fine. No harm done. See?”

She could not seem to hear her own reassurances over the sound of her own heartbeat; it was no wonder nobody else seemed to hear it either.

“ What was that? ” Master Kenobi didn’t quite raise his voice – he didn’t need to.

“...I’m sorry. I… I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry. I know better. I should know better,” Anakin’s eyes were wild. “I’ll just…”

Instead of finishing that thought, he dropped to his knees and started picking up the broken glass on the floor, blind and deaf to the world. He went on like that, kneeling and frantically passing the pieces into the cup of his left hand until he seemed to realize all at once what he was doing.

He froze and stared at his palm, for a heartbeat, then a shiver passed through him. His lips twitched imperceptibly.

He killed Palpatine with a shard of broken glass, Sola suddenly remembered and she wanted to yank the long jagged piece he was staring at from his hands.

“Anakin…” Master Kenobi started and Anakin winced, drawing his hand into a fist around the glass like a child trying to hide the evidence.

“I know. I know .” He didn’t raise his head, scrambling again in a fruitless endeavor to clean up his mess, piece by piece. His breathing was coming heavy and hard and he didn’t seem to notice how the shards started spilling from his hand or the thin red lines that started crawling across his palm and dripping on the floor.

Later, she’d reflect on the way everyone just watched. There was a cloud of disbelief and Sola hated watching it but she couldn’t look away.

Master Kenobi finally broke the spell when he sighed and slowly and painfully lowered himself to his knees. His impenetrable expression melted into a softer, more sympathetic one. He caught Anakin by the wrist and gently tried to pry his hand open.

“Let me help.” Without getting a reaction, he tried again, firmer. “Anakin. Let me help.”

Anakin met his eyes with a desperate something and for a moment Sola thought he was going to cry. It lasted a moment or two and then that wild despair melted into shame. He yanked his hand away, stumbling to his feet.

“Sorry.” He backed off past Master Kenobi and towards the door, not looking at anyone in particular. “I’m… going to get some air.” And then he fled the scene, leaving them with broken glass and screaming infants.

She thought someone ought to go after him; instead, they all watched Master Kenobi slowly get back to his feet again, wincing as he straightened his right knee.

“Do you have a broom?” He asked Padmé and that broke the spell.

“In the closet in the hallway,” she gracefully stepped across the glass, holding a squirming Leia. “But don’t bother, we have a droid for it. Anakin upgraded it.”

“One more reason to stick with a broom.” His attempt at a joke fell flat.

Ahsoka looked longingly towards the door, arms wrapped around her chest.

“Should I…?” She made a move forward and Rex stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

“No, let him be. He just… has to calm down a bit,” Padmé tried to take control of the situation. She’d shaken off the shock of it, putting on a steady, confident persona.

It didn’t seem to convince the girl.

“Are you sure?” She worried at her lip, eyeing the door again. Then, out of nowhere, she turned on Master Kenobi. “I told you not to say that. Why would you even – why didn’t you just tell him what you told me…?”

Master Kenobi was silent.

“He’s not… actually upset with you.” Padmé spoke, reading something from his demeanour. “You just have terrible timing, he received some upsetting news and–”

“Padmé,” he addressed her by the name. “It’s alright. I know. I’ve known Anakin since he reached no higher than to my hip. His moods are not foreign to me. He can be resentful, paranoid and churlish by all means but recently I’ve started to understand that perhaps I’ve done him a great disservice by writing him off as just an unusually angry child.”

Padmé inspected him thoughtfully.

“These Holocrons you were talking about…” She started. “Are you sure they… exist?”

“Master Yoda is certain and Maul is convinced of the same thing. He seems to think that if he’d have left them to anyone, it’d be to Anakin.”

“Why?” As soon as she asked, her face tightened and she closed her eyes, exhausted. “Nevermind. I know. I’ve suspected it for a while.”

“Then you know why I’d like to take them away.” His eyes dropped wearily on the crib and he leaned over to brush away some of the shards. It was no use – the bedding would have to be changed regardless but Sola suspected he wasn’t thinking much about the utility of the motion. “Anakin isn’t entirely wrong to lay the blame on me. He was under my care and I’ve been sending him off for a weekly brunch with a Sith Lord for over a decade. I never noticed anything. The least I can do now is this.”

“I understand. I’m not going to waste time trying to convince you it wasn’t your fault but do keep in mind that he…”

“I know.” Seemingly satisfied with the crib, he moved on to the bed, carefully shaking off the blanket. “I don’t suppose I could ask you to persuade him?”

Padmé’s face was impenetrable.

“Unfortunately, I’m leaving for Theed tomorrow. But you have time, in any case. He hasn’t technically signed any ownership papers yet.” 

“Tough task, getting anything done now.” Ahsoka gave Master Kenobi another dissatisfied look. 

“Nevermind that, do the three of you have anywhere to stay?”

“We were going to get a hotel. Rex and I are getting paid now, you know.” 

“You could stay here,” Padmé offered. “My parents won’t mind and there’s enough space. There’s a festival coming up so the hotels are going to be expensive. You’ll find better use of your wages by spending it on something else.”

Ahsoka looked questioningly up at Rex.

“It’s your call, kid.” 

She chewed on her lip – this was, Sola was coming to learn, a persistent nervous habit of hers. Her fingers flexed at her sides.

“Do you think I could…? I wanted to… I hoped to apologize. I wasn’t there for the trial or after. And – the thing with the chips was all Rex anyway. He’s the one remembered Fives. I just took the opportunity because…”

“Ahsoka, it’s alright.” Padmé’s voice softened. “Nobody could blame you of all people for needing some distance. It had to hit a bit close to home.”

“Yes, but –” She spread her fingers helplessly. “When I was on trial, the two of you were there. And after I could have visited. I wanted to, but I was… scared.”

“Please don’t misunderstand me but I’m glad you waited. Back on Coruscant, it would have been a bad time to visit.”

There was a lot of grief neatly packed up in that simple statement, Sola thought. It wasn’t all Anakin either; Padmé hadn’t been in a good place either. She somehow imagined that neither of them were keen on letting Ahsoka see them at that low point.

Ahsoka couldn’t know that though. Her eyes were large and concerned.

“Worse than now?”

Padmé shook her head and pressed a light kiss on her daughter’s angry red face.

“Come on,” she said. “Let the cleaning droid do its job. I’m sure you could use some snacks.”

〰 〰 〰 〰 〰

The moment she was able to pass on Luke to Master Kenobi, Sola left them alone. She’d felt like an intruder in that group. There were some conversations they simply had to have in private. 

First thing she did was turn on the cleaning droid and direct him to the mess. Next, she found her mother and gave her a short report on what happened.

“I see,” was all she’d said and she sounded neither surprised nor upset. 

All that was left for Sola to do was rescue her datapad from Ryoo and Pooja; it was only a little bit too ironic that she found them brawling on the floor, with the datapad lying discarded a while away. Apparently, they ran into some trouble deciding whose turn it was to play after a bit.

Sola knew they had no idea why she was being stern today when normally, she’d shrug it off but she couldn’t help it. All of the sudden, she felt too-aware of how easy it was for bad blood to foster over silly grudges. And how easy it was to prevent them in time.

She caught Anakin sneaking back in through the balcony completely by accident; the sun had gone down already and she was about to get ready for bed, worn out from her day. Her mosquito bites still itched and she felt sticky with sweat. She was so caught up in her little miseries, she didn’t even notice the sounds of him dragging himself over the railing before he slipped on his coat and fell loudly into a pot of flowers.

And then she nearly had a heart attack.

“Uhh… Hi.” She eyed him critically. Aside from being soaking wet, he seemed less… distressed. “Why are you… wet?”

“Lake.” He tried to regain some grace by brushing off the dirt he caught from the flower pot. It was senseless; it stuck to his wet coat and he sighed in defeat, leaning against the railing. “Please don’t ask.”

“I won’t ask. Come on, let me help.” She offered him a hand and after a moment’s hesitation, he took it. Not wanting to give him a chance to run off again, Sola hooked her arm around his, much like she’d done with Padmé the previous night.

If he was surprised, he didn’t resist, letting her lead him to her room with subdued obedience. It was only after she pointed to him to sit on her bed that he shook his head.

“I’ll get it dirty.”

So instead, he elected to sit on the floor. 

“Would you show me your hand?”

“It’s fine, you don’t have to…” He tried but he went along with it anyway. 

“I’m sure to you, it is,” Sola muttered, inspecting the cuts. There were a few of them, of various depths but it didn’t look like he’d done too much damage. She was no doctor – but she did have two children growing through various stages of clumsiness. She kept a fully stocked cabinet for that same reason.

Anakin didn’t react when she disinfected the wounds but he did seem childishly interested in the printed band aids she pulled out. They were the type with little cartoon spaceships; Sola had decided to spare him from Ryoo’s favored princess-themed ones, though she had the strongest suspicion that he wouldn’t care either way.

“I didn’t know they made these like this.”

“For children,” she said, teasing but it sat heavy in her chest. She tried not to imagine him at Ryoo’s age – or Pooja’s, but her mind conjured it up anyway. For that reason, she couldn’t quite smile watching him flex his hand, inspecting the way band aids from every angle.

“How are you feeling?” She asked after a bit.

He shrugged listlessly and his eyes darted to the side.

“I… overreacted,” he admitted softly. “I’m sorry. I should probably go and apologize.”

“They’re still awake, down in the dining room if you want. I think Ahsoka and the Commander might take up Padmé’s offer and stay here for a few days.”

She remembered how nervous Ahsoka was; it was something of a relief to see that Anakin seemed to brighten up at that.

“It’d be nice.” He closed his eyes, speaking almost to himself. “They probably already know I’m back anyway.”

“Ah. That’s – that’s the Jedi thing, is it not? The Jedi Master, can he just… sense you wherever you are, all the time?”

“All the time,” he confirmed, then paused with a touch of sadness. “When I’m close to him anyway. I think sometimes that he is the anchor for my soul.”

Anakin, Sola thought, said the oddest things sometimes and it never occurred to him to elaborate.

“What does that mean?”

He shrugged dismissively. 

“I don’t know. It just is. I know I give him attitude and I shouldn’t but… He makes things make sense. I feel sometimes that if I didn’t have that, I’d just… float away. That’s what happens when things stop making sense and you stop looking for sense in things.”

“I… understand,” she said, though she didn’t really. She’d never felt the need to externalize her sense of reality into another person. “There’s a comfort in knowing you have someone who can help you pin down murky concepts.”

“Comfort,” he mouthed. “Maybe when I was younger. All I had to do back then was listen, now half the time I can’t trust the things he says.”

This was the kind of statement that was meant to be said in anger, she thought, because when he said it like this, it just sounded pitiable.

“I can’t say I know of the nuances of your relationship but I didn’t get the sense that he’s a liar. He seemed… kind.”

“Most Jedi are kind.” Anakin told her. “And most of them are liars. It’s not as much of a contradiction as you might think. If I were anyone else, I would have had far less problems with them. It’s stupid. I truly did try my best, you know. But I just can’t seem to… get it right.”

This was one of the things that kept Anakin the way he was, she thought. When he was angry, he blamed everyone else – and in the quiet moments, he placed the blame squarely with himself. But never as the consequence of his decisions. The faults he found were always existential. He’d either fight to the death or resign to worthlessness and neither method was truly sustainable. 

Sola didn’t really know what to say to him. She wanted to try, for Padmé’s sake, but she didn’t think this was the kind of thing another person could wrestle with.

He looked at his left hand again and a forced smile twisted his lips.

“Padmé said you’re planning to use Clone art on your monument.” He changed the topic with the subtlety of a bantha in a chinashop and bumped her shoulder with his own – a surprisingly friendly gesture. “Come on, I’ll ask Rex to hook you up with some guys. He’ll be happy to help.”

For a moment, she was too stunned to speak.

"Truly? You'd do that?"

"It's really not a hassle to ask."

"No, but... It's just nice of you, that's all."

His smile wavered awkwardly as he stood up.

"Call it a trade-off for these," he said, waving his hand.

Sola considered the spot where he sat. Before he left, she called out: "Wait, one more thing?"

"Yes?"

"Did you really fall into the lake?"

Chapter Text

The morning of Padmé’s trip saw them all awake sooner than anyone would have liked – Sola had volunteered to fly the departing duo to the nearest spaceport, but she had not accounted for Padmé setting the time quite that early. Nor had Padmé presumably predicted when she set the time that she’d spend most of her last day entertaining guests. It was a reasonable oversight, all things considered, but it meant that in the hour before departure, the lake house was a flurry of activity.

Sola herself had almost forgotten about the visitors. She’d been enjoying her cup of kaff at the breakfast table in a half-hearted attempt to be a responsible designated flier when her mother fluttered into the room, urging Commander Rex and Ahsoka in her direction.

“Would you like kaff? Tea? Something stronger?” She didn’t give them the time to respond. “Go on, take a seat. Sola, what are you doing just sitting there? Offer our guests some refreshments, I have to go make sure your father packed all of his medication. And his commlink , for Shiraya’s sake, I can’t do that again.”

Sola allowed her eyelids to slip together for one more blessed moment.

“Yes, mother.”

But her mother was already gone, muttering something about the disaster that was her father’s last business trip. The moment she was out of view, Ahsoka shuffled, rubbing her bony elbows.

“It’s alright, Ms. Naberrie, you don’t have to–”

“–Nonsense. Tea or kaff? I’m not sure it’s a good idea to start with – ah – ‘ something stronger’ at this hour.” That was if Ahsoka was even old enough to drink. Sola somewhat doubted that; the girl was all lean limbs and round cheeks. But she had been a soldier, for all that that was horrible to think about. What right did Sola have to judge her maturity one way or another? “We have a few sandwiches in the fridge and I think there should be some leftovers from yesterday. You’re carnivorous, right? Can you eat fish?”

“ Uhhh – I can? Thank you. I really don’t want to impose, though.” A muted wail came from upstairs and she winced, rubbing her montrals. “Are they always this loud?”

“The children? When they’re worked up, sure.” And they had been worked up. Sola had heard about it from her mother earlier – after that lightbulb accident, they simply refused to calm down. It was exactly what Padmé had been afraid of. “It’s not an easy job getting used to being alive. It has to be rough for them; all those new sensations and they can’t really communicate it.”

“I suppose. They are loud, though – and early. ” Ahsoka leaned back in her seat, allowing Sola to pass them the cutlery. “You know, whenever we had to – uh – rescue a baby or something, Anakin always washed his hands of it. The good old ‘ give it to the Padawan ’ approach. Now that it’s his own babies though, I get the feeling he will start hissing at me if I look at them wrong. It’s throwing me off.”

“It’s his own biters, not too surprising. Can’t say I ever thought of the General in this situation but he seems to be handling it… in his own fashion.” Rex said, generous. He accepted his cup of kaff with a brief nod. The Clone had a somber face, Sola thought. Stoic in a way that gave nothing away – yet somehow warm, at the same time. She wondered if all Clones looked like that or if it was just Rex. It was an insensitive train of thought and she would never voice it but the image of millions of other kind-faced men and their fates – it lingered, uncomfortably, in the back of her mind.

“Is that the kind of thing you guys did?” She asked, part out of curiosity and partly to be polite. “Rescuing babies?”

“Sometimes. I think it was twice?” Ahsoka didn’t sound too sure about it. Her head cocked and she turned to Rex for help.

“I only remember the time with the Huttlet. If there were any other situations, you and the General got in and out of them on your own.” He said this with a subtle raise of his eyebrow – implying both that Anakin and Ahsoka had their fair share of ‘situations’ and that he personally found their ‘situations’ to be absolute tomfoolery. 

“Right, Stinky . That was – that was what we called the Huttlet, you can probably guess why. Looking back, I really hope the little guy won’t remember that. There was this other time though, on Mustafar. A bounty hunter got his hands on a Jedi holocron with the list of all Force Sensitive children so there was a serial kidnapping. I think one of the babies was from Naboo, actually. That was… two, three years ago? I wonder how he’s doing. He’s probably an Initiate by now.”

This was something Sola could work with. 

“So then you’ve been to Naboo before? Both of you?”

“A few times,” Ahsoka said. “It’s a lovely planet.”

“I’ve only been once,” Rex admitted. “But it was for a few weeks. I was quarantined because of the Blue Shadow Virus.”

“Ah.” Sola felt herself grimace. She’d only heard about that incident once Padmé had been cleared from quarantine. It should have been perhaps the first clue that her sister had taken to keeping secrets, but at the time it had been so easy to brush it aside. In times of war, all leaders kept secrets.

Unsure of what to say, she instead busied herself passing the leftovers. 

“Well, I’m glad you’re alright now. That had to be a very scary experience,” she said eventually.

Rex didn’t seem to know what to do with that. 

“It – uh – it wasn’t that bad, ma’am.”

“Padmé taught us how to play sabacc,” Ahsoka chimed in. “I mean, at the time, I thought it really sucked but looking back, the medicine kicked in very fast. It was basically a vacation.”

A vacation, Sola thought to herself. She suddenly wondered who was more out of place there: Rex and Ahsoka – or her. It made her sad at first and then she felt something like shame. A tickle of awareness that perhaps she had more in common with Palpatine than the people she was sharing breakfast with and the moment it bloomed into existence, she consciously recoiled from the idea.

She was not at fault for the lives they had led. Yet the guilt didn’t care for that rationalization. Persistently, it insisted that there was something there that Sola should feel guilty for and like a child she felt the urge to escape the conversation.

She took a deep sip of her kaff. 

“I doubt you really got to see the sights in quarantine though, so maybe this time you can enjoy the proper Naboo vacation. Lake Country is a popular tourist spot and there’s a Festival coming up, if you’re interested. I was thinking of taking my daughters there anyway. How long do you think you’ll stay?”

They exchanged a look. Ahsoka raised her markings slightly in a silent question; Sola did not really see what Rex did to give his answer but it seemed that an agreement was reached – quietly and efficiently.

“I’m not really sure. We don’t want to intrude and we do have business back on Coruscant. Probably at least as long as Padmé is gone, I suppose.” She paused a bit before elaborating. “She asked us to stay at least until she comes back. To… Well, you know. And there’s Master Obi-Wan’s… mission. He’s going to the city with you today, but he’ll stay on Naboo until he’s done. He has those Temple funds to spend on a nice hotel room, I guess – Padmé got him talking about hot tubs. So far we have the agreement that we’ll go back to Coruscant together, but it just depends on how long it takes.”

Sola frowned.

“Oh, he’s not staying here then?”

“He thought it was best if he didn’t, because…” Ahsoka made a face, waving her fork dangerously. She mimicked a stabbing motion, changed her mind mid-way and grimaced. Sola got her meaning anyway.

Well, that’s not a good sign.

“I thought Anakin apologized. That was what he told me last night.” And he had seemed very… subdued, when they spoke last night. Sola had assumed that that would have been the end of it – if not because they resolved things then purely because she didn’t imagine Anakin had the energy to continue.

Ahsoka sighed heavily as if the weight of the universe was on her shoulders.

“He did. But he’s also digging in his heels.”

“I see. Is that very unusual for him?”

“Not really. He comes around usually, though.” She picked at the food. “It’s kind of an in-joke with the other Masters at the Temple but Anakin’s not unreasonable. It just looks that way when the other party is not interested in understanding why he’s resistant.”

She delivered it so dispassionately, it almost didn’t register to Sola that she meant it as a criticism. The tired hesitance was so blatantly at odds with the easy way she spoke about her wartime misadventures earlier.

Powerless though she was in all this, Sola felt a pang of deep sympathy. It was so easy to forget that Ahsoka would have known the history she wasn’t privy to. 

“I’m sure they’ll work it out. From what I’ve been told, they’ve known each other for a long time. They probably had worse spats in all that time.” She tried to reassure her.

“They did.” Ahsoka didn’t seem to want to discuss this further; her face was mournful. Whatever grief fuelled all this madness, she was just as inclined to keep it private as the rest of them.

The conversation stilled at that. Sola stirred her kaff while Ahsoka busied herself with her food. 

Rex broke the silence eventually by clearing his throat.

“Ma’am–” he started.

“Sola, please.”

He eyed her warily.

“Ms. Sola,” he amended and Sola let him have it. “Gen– Skywalker mentioned you wanted to talk to me about a project.”

“Oh. Right, yes, he did say he’d ask you. I’m working on a war monument in Theed, commissioned by the Queen. I can show you the designs later, but the idea is that it would represent the people in the conflict. Including the Clones – not as members of the GAR, but as individuals. I’ve done my best to research.” She paused. “It’s a… sensitive topic though, and I worry that the research I can access isn’t really enough on its own. There’s very little mention of how the Clones feel about the War but it’s your feelings I’d want to consider. It’s a lot to ask, I know, but I’d be really grateful if you’d be willing to take a look. And – I’m considering using Clone art on the designs so I’ll be looking to hire artists. If you happen to know anyone who would be interested that’d be great help as well.”

He considered her words in silence. Sola could not tell what he was thinking – and she wished desperately to know what Anakin had told him. Had he even warned the man? He must have. Surely he would not just spring this on him? Yet in her mind’s eye, she could see her brother-in-law doing exactly that.

“I’d be willing,” he said finally, in an even tone. “I cannot speak for all of my brothers and we don’t share a singular view on the war, but if nothing else I can give you contacts. Once GAR has been dismissed, we’ve been left to provide for ourselves with whatever talents we have. A few decided to pursue the arts and I think they’d appreciate the opportunity to work on something like this.”

“Thank you. I understand that it’s… difficult and the war was horrible.” That coiled snake of shame forced her eyes downwards, away from Rex and his warm face. What do you know of horrible? “It was… horrible for us on Naboo too, in a different way. There was a lot of rot here – and we share a responsibility.”

“There was a lot of rot everywhere,” Rex told her, not unkindly. “In that sense, the war was like setting a broken bone. It’s important to believe that at very least we’ve won ourselves the right to heal. I appreciate the thought, ma’am. There are very few depictions of the war that include us as… people.”

Sola could imagine.

“That’s not fair.” It was such a useless thing to say, but it was all that came to mind. 

He shrugged.

“We’re making do regardless. A few friendly members of the Senate helped us set up an institute – to make the transition easier. They offer classes in basic life skills for civilians and help us find work. I might have some hangups about how we got to this point but I’d say things are going well.”

It had to be exciting for the Clones, Sola thought sadly, to finally be allowed to own their futures. Exciting, and terrifying. And the Republic had left them to deal with it on their own. This spoke volumes too – the rot still remained. It would remain as long as the cogs of the Republic worked to serve people by using other people as fuel.

Her own project suddenly seemed woefully shortsighted.

“Is there any way I could help? Promoting perhaps? I don’t have the connections that Padmé does but…”

Rex shook his head.

“I appreciate it, but Sen – Lady Amidala has already offered.”

“She’ll have a good opportunity to do so at the funeral I suppose.” Sola mused. “There’ll be all kinds of people there.”

“Yeah, like Tarkin,” Ahsoka snorted. “I’d like to see her have a go at him. She’s going to read him to filth if she gets the chance, I know it.”

Sola’s lips twitched. Padmé had made no mention of that, but of course she wouldn’t have.

The conversation picked up from there. Neither of them seemed to be too good at smalltalk, but Sola didn’t expect them to be. Certainly both of them were more used to talking with military personnel than civilians and it showed. Ahsoka was earnest where Rex was reserved, but even her attitude seemed at times to be a deliberate mimicry of cheerfulness. She was – by nurture rather than nature, Sola imagined – a somewhat serious girl. Like she was still finding her footing in the world.

Her relief when Sola’s mother dragged in Master Kenobi was palatable – clearly, she took this as the cue that she no longer had to be the one to keep the ease of conversation. 

“Where’s Padmé?” Jobal demanded like she expected Sola to know. Somehow, her mother had only grown more stressed in the meantime. Her elegant bun had come loose, which Sola knew to be a sure sign that she was on edge. “Has she come downstairs yet?”

“How should I know? I haven’t seen her.” Though once she thought about it, it had been a while since she last heard the twins. 

“We’ve already put all of your father’s luggage in the speeder, what’s taking her so long? At this rate she’s going to miss the shuttlebus,” her mother continued to bemoan.

Ahsoka took this as her cue.

“I’ll go look for her.” She hardly got the declaration out before there was already the sound of her feet on the staircase.

“Always in a rush,” Master Kenobi muttered disapprovingly. Sola eyed him curiously. She knew it was early but the man looked like he seriously needed some kaff. Or a good night’s sleep. Instead, he got served a plate full of leftovers before he could even get a word in otherwise.

“It’s the least I can offer for all the menial labour you did,” Jobal insisted.

“I’d hardly call carrying two suitcases menial labour…”

Ahsoka didn’t take too long to come back, a little less eagerly. Her cheeks were deep orange.

“Well, is she coming?”

“You could say that…” Ahsoka muttered, sinking into her empty chair. She slammed her head into her palms and groaned. “My poor, innocent eyes. This was not Padawan friendly at all.”

Her mother was aghast.

“Surely not?” She wiped her hands angrily and turned on her heels. “The shuttlebus is in half an hour, we will all miss it–” 

Sola coughed discreetly, trying to expel the kaff she had inhaled. 

“I guess that explains why she’s late,” she mused. She supposed it shouldn’t be too surprising – she’d never known her sister to be anything but punctual and there were very few things – or people – that made Padmé completely abandon her common sense and her rigid discipline. 

Ahsoka just groaned again.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” She turned to Master Kenobi for support. The man, Sola noted, looked slightly uncomfortable but the way he stroked his beard was more amused than anything.

“Should I?”

“Well... You’re – I mean.” She tried desperately to find an argument for why he should be her ally in this. “What about Anakin’s virtue?”

Master Kenobi raised an eyebrow.

“He has two children, I’m afraid his virtue has been thoroughly snatched. A better use of my time, young one, would be to remind you that knocking is not only polite but basic manners when in someone else’s house.”

She turned an even deeper orange.

“Master, you’re making it worse. Don’t start lecturing, please.”

Fortunately for their mother’s nerves, Padmé showed up some ten minutes later to get the baby formula from the fridge. She was wearing her new red dress and there was not a hair out of place in her immaculate braids – but one look at her and Sola was giddy all over again.

“Oh, here you are. I’m sorry you had to wait, but I think I’m about ready to go now, as soon as Ani gets the luggage.”

“Mhmm, it’s fine. Did you have a good morning?” Sola asked cheekily.

Distracted by her task, Padmé didn’t notice her smile or the way Rex started clearing his throat.

“Decent enough, but better once I’m on the road and can get some shut eye. The children were impossible last night, we didn’t sleep a wink.” Only after turning around to deliver the formula to whoever was watching the twins – her mother, presumably – did she catch up. Her cheeks coloured. “Oh. Ahsoka, I’m so sorry for–”

“–Let’s not talk about it. Ever.” Ahsoka clutched her montrals. “Glad the marriage is working out though.”

Padmé seemed to be more than fine with that. She eyed Sola suspiciously and then left. 

Once Sola finished putting dirty dishes in the sink for the kitchen droid to bother with, she found her sister outside saying goodbye to Ryoo and Pooja, still in their nightclothes. The girls weren’t too happy about their aunt leaving again. Originally, Sola had hoped they’d be able to say their goodbyes in the evening before, but that didn’t end up happening.

“–how to handle a blaster once I get back,” Padmé was promising a sulky Ryoo and Sola grimaced and decided to willfully turn a deaf ear. Instead, she wandered over to where her father was showing Anakin something on the speeder radio. He’d removed the plating and the two of them seemed to be contemplating the mess of wires.

“I hope everything is working,” she said in lieu of a greeting.

“Not the radio. But everything else, yes.” Anakin didn’t sound too pleased about it. “Did you happen to see Obi-Wan anywhere? If he’s late, you should leave without him. That’ll teach him.”

Evidently, he was in a wonderful mood this morning and the two of them had fixed nothing.

“He said he had a call to make. I’m sure he’ll be here on time.” Sola eyed him carefully. If Padmé looked immaculate in the early morning, then it seemed as if Anakin hadn’t as much combed his hair with his fingers – and the early morning humidity wasn’t doing him any favours in that department either. She thought she could even still smell the lake on him from when he’d taken a dip yesterday.

Perhaps it was a good thing that Master Kenobi was leaving.

“Probably comming the Council for updates. It’s not like he keeps in contact with anyone else.”

She exchanged a look with her father.

“So, the amplifier just needs to be rewired, then?” He asked, changing the topic.

“I think so. It’s not the best amplifier out there, but even with these models there’s tricks for expanding the range. Any decent junkyard owner in the Outer Rim knows how to buff up a cheap model and pass it as something stronger. With spaceships those burn through quickly but for a speeder it should be fine.”

This was going to be a conversation Sola had no hopes of contributing to, she despaired.

“Where were you fifteen years ago when I got scammed out of my money on Rina Major? That would have been useful to know.” Her father huffed.

“Scamming people out of their money on Tatooine.” Anakin’s smile was all teeth but it distracted him from his vindictive ruminations. He went on to explain, in great detail, exactly what was wrong with their radio and how it could be fixed while her father nodded and pretended to follow. 

It only occurred to Sola once all the goodbyes were exchanged and everyone was ready to depart that Anakin hadn’t truly needed to ask where Master Kenobi was. By his own admission, he could probably sense him.

It perplexed her a bit – what reason could he have to bluff? But then it crept on her.

It had to be a horrible hunger, that. To want so desperately for your friend not to leave you but know that the moment you dared to give it a voice, you’d already lost him. There was only so much closeness that could exist between a Jedi Master and a civilian.

On the contrary, he could afford all the closeness with Padmé now and she wondered if Anakin ever pondered at the cost of that exchange. They must have said their true farewells in private – and that train of thought continued to make Sola want to cackle – but her sister still took the time to press herself into one last lingering embrace.

“Look after yourself. And ask for help with the children when you have to.” She held onto his hands, taking care with his injured palm. Someone must have exchanged the colourful bandaids for a proper bandage at some point.

“You too. You could still change your mind.”

This was a rather audacious last attempt; Padmé just laughed it off.

“I’ll give Tarkin your regards.” Pulling back from his hold, her eyes twinkled.  

“I’d give him my regards myself.” Anakin’s hands lingered in the empty air for a few moments; then he swallowed and the longing on his face shifted into something tired. 

“Love, do you really miss prison so badly? That’s exactly why you’re not coming with me.”

It was not an easy break for Padmé either. She kept up her composure but the eagerness to seek shelter in the speeder gave away what a struggle that was. This was it, Sola supposed. She settled in the pilot’s seat and turned on the engine. At this rate, they’d probably catch the shuttlebus just fine, if Master Kenobi kept it short.

Thankfully, the man did.

“You know my frequency,” he offered quietly. “I’ll be nearby. If you need anything…”

“Right.”

Sola could see him wrestle with something in the brief silence. The morning air was crisp and fresh in a way that almost urged not to leave things unfinished.

“Anakin, I –”

Anakin rolled his eyes. He crossed his arms at his chest defensively.

“I get it. Go enjoy your hot tub, old man.” 

“I see nothing stays private in this household.”

But watching Varykino shrink into itself in the rearview mirror, with the dark shape of Anakin’s figure lingering in the same spot until it faded from view, Sola thought this light-hearted remark was rather off-base.

〰 〰 〰 〰 〰

They caught the shuttlebus just in time for Sola to quickly say goodbye to her father and sister.

“Seriously though, be careful. No intergalactic accidents.”

“Not you too. It’ll only be a few days, a week at best.” Padmé scoffed. “Just… remember what we talked about, will you? And Obi-Wan? Be gentle, please.”

If Master Kenobi was offended by this, he didn’t show it.

“Of course. Have a safe trip, my Lady.”

Despite the awareness that this time Padmé would be back soon, Sola’s heart felt heavy. She’d done this routine so many times by now, the heaviness felt almost instinctual. It was just life – she understood that well enough. But with Padmé she always got the claustrophobic feeling that they were running out of time. 

In the end, her arm hurt from waving until the shuttlebus flew off, regardless of the looks other people were giving her. Her task complete, the spaceport seemed like a vacant, cavernous place. She didn’t know what to do with herself. Go back to the villa, she supposed.

“She’s definitely going to find some trouble,” she commented idly. 

“Your sister is an extraordinary woman. She has a talent for getting out of the many problems she gets herself into.” Master Kenobi offered, his hands clasped under his long cloak. “There’s no reason to worry.”

“I know. I trust her to handle herself, it’s just – well, you know how it is.”

If she searched for solidarity, he’d have left her wanting. His composure was amazing – Sola supposed that was what made him a Jedi Master.

“I’m familiar,” he said eventually. “Certain worries are hard to shake off, regardless of how irrational they are.”

Sola hummed her agreement.

“I’ll fly you to your hotel,” she offered, feeling the keys in her back pocket. 

“That would be very kind of you.”

The speeder waited for them right where they left it. Allowing himself into the passenger seat, Master Kenobi raised an eyebrow at the partially dismantled radio.

“Anakin?”

“Anakin.” Igniting the machine, Sola offered a smile. “Don’t worry, everything else works – according to him. So, which hotel are you going to?”

“Ah. Whichever is closest and cheapest, I suppose.”

“Really? I thought you were going for luxury. Ahsoka mentioned something about Council funds and hot tubs?”

“There truly is no secrecy in this household.” His eyes danced. “No, I’m not planning to waste the Order’s funds on hot tubs. I just played along for Ahsoka’s amusement yesterday. If she ever sat a Council meeting on the annual budget and expenses she’d understand why. Besides, it’d hardly be appropriate.”

“I suppose that Jedi are meant to be humble. Alright, I think I know a good place for you, then.” She took them out of the parking lot and onto the speeder lane. They passed some time in silence – and then they got stuck at a red light and Sola could take it no more.

“Master Kenobi, I understand it’s not any of my business but I was wondering… Those holocrons you spoke of, are they dangerous?”

She hoped the question was not too inappropriate.

“I believe they could be.” He turned his face away from the window to regard her curiously. “If they contain Sith arts, their contents are certain to be… disturbing. And more than that, the Sith prey on pain and negative emotions.”

Sola thought on it.

“You think Anakin would be vulnerable to it,” she concluded. It wasn’t far-fetched – or even unwarranted. Had he not told her himself about the offer Palpatine had made him? No matter how hard she rationalized, that still made her uneasy. She understood, perfectly, why he’d accept and she knew that he understood just as well why it was wrong to do so. But he’d do it anyway.

Master Kenobi must have misunderstood her statement for disbelief.

“That’s what I fear. I’ve known him for a very long time. I don’t doubt his skills or dedication to the Jedi. But… I’ve visited Anakin in prison a few times. As a representative of the Council, I was one of the few people allowed and nobody objected to my requests. It was… I didn’t expect him to be doing too well, given the circumstances, but what I saw of him was worse – up until the twins were born. I don’t know what happened but something must have. I didn’t want to worry Lady Amidala about it, but I admit I was – worried.” Padmé had alluded to as much, but Sola had not expected Master Kenobi to admit it himself. He must have really been worried – or, rather, Sola thought it was the fact that he was still worried.

“Don’t misunderstand,” he went on. “I know Anakin. At his worst, he can be temperamental and mistrustful but he has a good heart. I don’t think he’s a danger to anyone.”

“Except to himself.” She paused. Something about that seemed to echo through her memory. When talking about Palpatine, that night on the steps, hadn’t Anakin said – “If I may, Master Kenobi, I don’t know if he can tell whether you’re scared of him or for him.“

He was silent.

“I don’t suppose I could ask you to…”

“No.” Sola felt no guilt for being firm. She needed him to know. “That’s something you should do yourself.”

“I… understand. I apologize.” Master Kenobi cleared his throat. Sola was getting the impression that his composure aside, he was no less awkward than the rest of them. Just smoother about it.

“It’s alright. You want to help him. But I don’t understand entirely. If it’s Anakin that worries you – and not the holocrons – why not speak with him sooner? It might have been received better.” 

She was not unsympathetic. This kind of conversation seemed to be hard for Master Kenobi and she had the feeling that he’d rather avoid facing it entirely – but still, here he was. Even if it took him longer than it should have.

She didn’t expect an answer, let alone an honest one. But just like Anakin, she got the sense that Master Kenobi was trying . His face tightened, as if steeling himself for something bitter.

“I could tell he was… upset with me about being expelled from the Order. Among the other things. I took the liberty of assuming he wouldn’t want to see me, especially not in his state. He – Usually he likes to lick his wounds in private, you see.” 

It was an acceptable explanation – except for the way he delivered it. He didn’t have much faith in his own words either.

It was far more likely, Sola thought, that Master Kenobi didn’t want to deal with his own guilt. It must have haunted him, regardless of how good of a Jedi he was. Some things just did. If something had happened to Ryoo or to Padmé while they were out on her orders, she’d find it difficult to forgive herself too. And it hadn’t been just that – it hadn’t stopped at Palpatine.

There’d been the trial. The organs of the Republic would have finished what Palpatine had failed to accomplish; as a Jedi and barred from the investigation, Master Kenobi would have been helpless with that too. And then the conspiracy with the Clones – the men under his command. 

She could understand very easily why he’d want to close his eyes and pretend like at least one thing would work out on its own.

Morbidly, she wondered what he would have done if Anakin’s trial had ended with a guilty sentence. A different part of her thought a better question would be whether he ever wondered about the same thing.

“With all due respect, I think that’s silly. You should talk to him – and I mean genuinely talk. No hiding, or assuming things. He might be more willing than you assume. You raised him, didn’t you? That has to amount to something.”

He glanced out of the window.

“Hardly. He had a mother. I was just his Master.” His voice was calm.

This would have been a good point for Sola to back off – it was, ultimately, none of her business – but instead it spurred her on.

“I can’t claim to be familiar with how Jedi work but Padmé said that you’re like family. Master Jedi, regardless of what you call it, I think I believe her. There’s more to a bond than just the name of it. No matter what they are to you, the person who tied your shoes, soothed your fevers – you remember them.”

“Anakin never got sick,” Master Kenobi responded quickly, gracing her with a quick look. “And he’d hardly let me soothe his fevers, even if he had. He’s a horrible patient.”

“That’s… not the point. I just think that you mean a lot to him. And if you’re not his Master anymore, then you have to be something. Do you know what I mean? I know you know him better than I do, of course, but please consider it. Sometimes an outsider’s perspective has some worth to it.”

He rubbed his beard, hiding his expression from her.

“Your sister said something very similar. I suppose I’m just wary of making things worse.” His expression pinched. “This was so much easier when he was little and I could solve all of his problems by telling him to eat or get some sleep – and he’d listen.”

Truly, Sola felt like everyone who had ever raised a teenager felt that way. But…

“I had the impression he was a menace as a child.”

“What? No, not Anakin. He was a good boy.” He sounded mournful – but affectionate. It seemed to go hand in hand with him, the love and the grief. But Sola thought that perhaps that was how everyone loved Anakin – like something unraveling. “Did he tell you that?”

“He alluded to it. I have a feeling the two of you were not on the same page.” To say the least. It would be funny if it wasn’t so sad.

Master Kenobi seemed to echo the sentiment.

“I’m starting to understand that,” he sighed and he sounded exhausted beyond despair. “We had a… rough start. I forgot about it. I didn’t realize that he didn’t.”

Some people, Sola lamented, just get cast as two satellites in the same orbit – only occasionally brushing past each other with something akin to an understanding.

She thought Obi-Wan Kenobi was a good man. Prone to quiet inner devastations he’d never let loose into the world. It lived there in the worn creases of his eyes and the fear that he could not find the strength to name, but which hunted him all the way to Naboo like a curse – relentless and sleepless in its dogged pursuit. He was devastated when he held baby Luke; he was devastated watching Padmé feed Leia and he felt nothing short of heartbreak for Anakin, as if that unspoken remorse would somehow gain the power to heal from its intensity alone.

That was what good men often could not see: guilt was not a virtue. Guilt killed everything it touched. Acting in its name would not bring him back his friend’s smile. 

But she thought he must know that already. 

“That’s not a hard mistake to make. I like to think I’ve had far easier circumstances with my family, but there was still a lot about my sister I just didn’t know. This really came up recently.” She could see the shape of the hotel in the distance and turned sharply left. “There’s only so well you can know a person, I know – but it still seemed like I’ve let her down. It’s not all that straightforward. Some hurts people just won’t share with you until they’ve grown incapacitating.”

He crossed his hands in his lap. The rough-spoon fabric of his sleeves, Sola noted, was marked with drool in several spots. Luke had managed to leave his mark.

“Were the children a surprise to you too, then?” 

“Oh, yes. Mother was not pleased, at all. Well, it wasn’t the children she was upset about exactly, but she certainly never thought Padmé would drop something like that on her.”

“It was quite a scandal,” Master Kenobi agreed. “I admit I suspected that they were involved but the marriage was a surprise. I’d really like to know whose idea it was.”

By the sound of it, he already had his suspect. She wondered, briefly, if he held any resentment about not being told – but then again, Anakin’s circumstances were different from Padmé’s. His secrecy was understandable. And, she imagined, even if a part of Master Kenobi did feel hurt, he’d bury it as deep as he could.

“Well, I don’t know about that,” she admitted. “It could be either of them or both. But I did see the wedding holos and I have to say, Padmé looked way more prepared to be in that situation.” 

There was a beat of silence.

“There’s… holos ? Force help us all.” 

“Artoo has them,” Sola confirmed.

For some reason that made Master Kenobi groan into the back of his fist in wordless exasperation.

“Of course he does. That droid keeps enough confidential information to bring about the fall of the Republic. I swear…”

“He’s… very special.” The implication that Artoo knew state secrets somehow didn’t surprise her. She didn’t know too much about droids, nor could she understand binary but she was fairly certain that Artoo and Anakin had inside jokes. And sure, initially she’d written that off as Anakin having a few screws loose but after seeing Padmé treat the little droid the exact same way, she had to reevaluate. 

Master Kenobi prepared to say something and then fell silent. His eyes were distant, as if some discarded memory suddenly caught his attention.

“Yes,” he said softly. “Yes, he is.”

〰 〰 〰 〰 〰

After dropping off Master Kenobi at his hotel, Sola returned to the villa to find her mother talking with Rex about a mutual acquaintance – apparently one of her aunties had recently hired a Clone security guard – in the living room, her daughters asleep and Anakin showing a cringing Ahsoka how to change the twins’ nappies.

“Not so keen about that new baby smell now, are you?” 

Ahsoka scrunched her nose.

“I can’t help it if my nose is better than yours. Gross.”

“Alright, Snips, but who here got a fungal infection on their montrals because I seem to recall–”

Seeing Ahsoka squaring her shoulders for a retaliation, Sola ducked away from the open nursery and left them at it.

〰 〰 〰 〰 〰

If a small part of her was apprehensive about the visitors, that part didn’t survive long. It was just the adjustment that she had dreaded and the adjustment turned out to be smoother than expected. This might have been because Rex and Ahsoka behaved more like members of the household than guests you had to entertain. When the heat of Varykino summers forced them all indoors during the day, they merged right in.

Despite her warnings not to harass her, Ryoo and Pooja were somewhat enamoured with Ahsoka. She was everything a little girl might find charming: well-travelled, intelligent and trained in the mystic arts. Sola got the feeling that her time with the Jedi was a bit of a sore subject, but Ahsoka didn’t seem to mind indulging them. In fact, watching her help Pooja with her gymnastics routine was the most at ease that Sola had seen her the entire time she’d known her.

Even if she had to answer increasingly invasive questions the whole way through. First, Ryoo wanted to know if Ahsoka had ever been to the Senate (she had). Then she wanted to know about her diplomatic missions (they usually ended with someone’s boot in someone’s face)  and if she could shoot a blaster (she could but she would not teach). Pooja was more interested in how long it took her to learn gymnastics (several years but Togrutas have the natural affinity for it). And building from that, she asked if Ahsoka had ever been to school.

“We had classes at the Temple. From what Padmé told me about her schooling, they weren’t too dissimilar from what you do at the Academy. There’s a lot of focus on diplomacy and cultures.”

“Oh.” Pooja looked disappointed. “That’s lame. I thought you learned about, I don’t know. Laser swords and… ancient prophecies. What about during the War? Did you have special classes for that?”

This was the point where Sola was going to interfere but Ahsoka met her eyes over Pooja’s shoulders and smiled.

“Not really. It was… mostly an on-field experience. The boys taught me some stuff and my Master did the rest, when he had time. I had normal classes when we were on Coruscant, though, and the rest of the time I had to study individually and submit assignments.”

“They made you do that while fighting in a war?” Sola could almost not believe it – but then again, a part of her could. Somewhere out there, someone was given the task of reconciling how being a soldier factored into a child’s life. And that was their solution.

“That really sucks,” Ryoo agreed and perhaps she was old enough to grasp the concept of war beyond the abstraction of some faraway battlefield. Or perhaps, Sola thought, she simply empathized with the concept of schoolwork.

“It couldn’t be helped. Everyone knew that the Clone Wars were going to end one day and those of us who were Padawans during it would be expected to do normal Jedi duties. There was some concern that being taught on the field would make us very poor diplomats. They might have been right.” She shrugged. “It wasn’t so bad, anyway. Sometimes it was nice to have a taste of some normalcy, you know? I knew some of my assignments were poorly done but I usually got nice enough grades on them so I assume they went easy on us. I only failed once.”

“You failed?” Pooja asked, delighted as if Ahsoka had confessed to something scandalous.

“Temporarily, yes. It was from a class on the formation of the Republic. Just after my first deployment, I had to write an assignment on Thisspiasian Blood Monarchy and the Master teaching that class is a prehistoric hag. She either hadn’t heard I was shipped out, didn’t remember or didn’t care.” Her canines flashed when she grinned. 

“It was one of my first assignments as a Padawan, so when I saw I failed, I was… a bit upset. Just a bit, you know. Especially since it meant I had to run to Anakin and beg his forgiveness. I really wanted to impress him back then, but looking back I don’t know why I bothered. He had better things to do than grill me about academics. Anyway, he was nice about it and he went to speak with the Master that taught that class, and in the end, she changed my grade just enough that I passed. Later – and I mean months later – I found out from Master Kenobi that Anakin threw pieces of chalk at her and told her to pretend it’s blaster fire.”

“Very effective.” Sola had to admit. And petty. A part of her wondered what that would be like when the twins were old enough to enroll in the Academy. 

“He had a point to make. That was his teaching method too – sometimes, if you want people to hear you, you have to make sure your statements are loud.” 

Ryoo chewed on her lip, half-smiling, half-nervous.

“We’re doing History of the Republic next year. Is it really that difficult?”

In the end, these conversations were harmless at worst and educational at best so Sola let them be. But privately, she kept an eye out on it regardless. Ahsoka hadn’t come to entertain children. Sooner or later she’d get fed up with it.

What she had come for was Anakin. Even when he wasn’t present, he was a recurring theme in Ahsoka’s stories. Sola didn’t think that was intentional as much as it was unavoidable – from when Ahsoka was assigned to him and up until she left, they’d spent most of their time together. Certainly, his own adventures would have both a before and an after . But to Ahsoka, their time together was her everything. It was what had raised her into who she was now. They said that some days in the past can be so impactful that they forever run just under any other day you might ever have in the future. 

For Ahsoka, that was the war but more than that, it was the elusive sense of satisfaction and belonging she’d found there. It had, in her own words, taken her a while to learn those came not with her role as a Commander, but with the people who had cared for her then. 

But regardless of how strong that bond was, the two of them didn’t spend that much time together. It wasn’t for the lack of trying on Ahsoka’s part. Every interaction that Sola caught between the two of them was light and pleasant, to the point of being almost forced. She just got the impression that Anakin didn’t have a lot of energy for interactions, pleasant or not. And when he backed out, Ahsoka never chased after him – no matter how unhappy she looked about it. 

Sola had spent most of her time over the next two days with Rex, listening to him talk about the War, about Kamino and the men under his command. Most of them were dead now. She could tell sometimes from just the way he said their names when he first mentioned them – for a Clone, grief had developed its own phonology.

“I’m sorry if this is useless to you. There’s millions of Clones who died in battle. My brothers – they weren’t that unique in life or in death. Sometimes when you hear one story, you hear a thousand.”

As far as Sola was concerned, that just spoke to the cruelty of it all. All those men, forced to follow the script of the same tragedy. Who knew what they would have liked to do with their lives instead?

“Someone should remember them, regardless.” 

Rex folded his hands in front of him and inclined his head. That was why he was telling her all that, she understood. He had hoped to preserve their memories a bit, even if just through her inspiration. How else to grieve them? They had no graves.

It didn’t seem very fair to her that in a universe where Palpatine got a funeral procession, a man like Rex had to beg for scraps of remembrance for his murdered brothers.

But in the end, it was the holopicture and one story in particular that touched her the most. Those were his closest friends, from the way he spoke about them. And one of them, Fives, was the reason why they were able to enjoy their freedom today.

“Fives had found out about the Chancellor before any of us did. When the Ge– When I heard that Skywalker was detained, I remembered what he’d said before he died, about the chips. The kid and I went to Kamino and well… He’d been right about it all. They’d killed him for it and named him a traitor, but he had been right.” He shook his head. “Fives was a damn good soldier. I wish he’d… But he made me proud. He made us all proud.”

Sola considered that image. She had been right, after all. Even motionless, these men all had the same kind eyes. Different looks to them, certainly, and different temperaments but the same tough, warm core that she saw in Rex. Like brothers.

Reaching out with her finger, she traced the image.

“Would you mind if I used their likeness on the monument?” She asked. “And yours of course. If you’d allow it.”

Rex was silent for a bit.

“Theirs, yes.” He said with finality. “But not mine. I’ve got some good years left. If I want to get my face plastered somewhere, I think I’ll have to work a bit harder.”

Privately, Sola wished for her monument to honour the survivors of the war as much as the dead. But she understood nonetheless. The dead were done – the living could go on to feel ashamed.

〰 〰 〰 〰 〰

When Sola had thought Anakin moody on the day of Padmé’s departure, she had underestimated how much further his mood could sink. It was as if something had irrevocably shifted in him and she couldn’t tell if it was Padmé, Palpatine or the argument. But then again, she supposed those weren’t separate things at all. If you looked deep enough, they all ran into the same core wound.

On top of that, he was exhausted. According to Padmé, the twins had kept them up at night, but Sola would be surprised if he’d slept the night before that. Or perhaps even before. There was a degree of exhaustion that was just unmistakable. You could look at someone and see that rationality was beginning to take more than they could afford.

She’d tried to switch him out in the evening, when the twins were awake and loud but he’d refused.

“I’ve got it. Thanks.”

Privately she thought the only thing he had was a headache and perhaps insomnia but wisely, she decided to trust her instincts and bit her tongue. 

“If you say so.”

But when she woke up in the middle of the night, she went on to check on them regardless, just to see if perhaps he’d cracked and relented yet. 

Moving across the floorboards silently as she could so she would not wake up the rest of the household, she found the nursery empty and the twins mercifully asleep in Padmé’s spacious bedroom. She almost left before she noticed Anakin on the open balcony, sitting with his back to the railing. He must have wanted some air, she told herself and she’d thought him asleep before she saw the shine of his eyes reflecting the dim red shine of the object in his hands.

Sola cleared her throat.

“Hi,” she whispered awkwardly as he startled. “Sorry. I just – wanted to check in. I promised Padmé I would. Do you want me to watch them for a bit?”

“No.” He scowled, shoving the red light into his sleep robe. “If I need help I’ll ask for it. You can go.”

Will you? She wondered but didn’t say.

She had recognized the object from the day he’d received it. It’d been Palpatine’s – and that had been a clue enough that Sola was interrupting something personal. Whatever emotions Anakin had about the man – he had to find his conclusions for himself. 

It stuck with her when come morning – in preparation for his funeral – the news were full of Palpatine. Of his life, his crimes and achievements… and his death. Unlike Rex, Anakin didn’t need to lift a finger to see his dead friend everywhere. 

There was a lesson there about extremes, but Sola felt like that was an oversimplification. The real lesson was that people – as a mass – celebrated power, not people or their worth. Many of those who showed up for Palpatine were critics and opponents, but they’d showed up regardless, if only to lay the tyrant to rest.

Somehow, her mother had done what Sola could not and had wrangled Anakin into letting her watch the children. It must have taken either threats or bribery, but instead of lurking around the holoprojector with his screaming banshee offspring, he now moped near where she and Rex discussed the designs at her workstation – this part was, apparently, Ahsoka’s fault.

“Keep him busy for a bit,” she’d whispered in a hurry earlier. “I’ll do something to cheer him up.”

“A nap would keep him busy.” Sola felt tired just looking at him earlier. He’d had a minor success getting Luke to accept a dummy – and then after about ten seconds of befuddlement later, the baby had torn it out and flung it with surprising strength straight into a potted plant. She thought she saw Anakin die inside at that moment. 

Rex cleared his throat.

“That’s a lesson in futility, ma’am.” 

One way or another, he knew what he was talking about. 

His solution to keeping Anakin busy had been to direct him to some of Sola’s calculations. According to Rex, pouring over ship schematics and re-calculating everything in fits of paranoia had been one of Anakin’s hobbies for as long as he’d known him. He stressed out his engineering team doing it – the 501st had the highest turnover rate in that department – but eventually, the GAR as a whole had benefited from it when it resulted in an improved design for the cruisers. 

Struggling to ignore the way he occasionally started to furiously scribble over her notes with a red stylus, Sola could empathize with that poor engineering team. Eventually, her dignity forced her to make an attempt to defend herself.

“This is just the early draft, the math is supposed to be lazy until I pin down the specific design…” 

“Mhmm.” Anakin clearly hadn’t heard a single word she’d said. 

“And I usually hire someone to check it for me when I’m done.” She finished, defeated. 

Ahsoka’s surprise turned out to be a plate full of what looked like dumplings of some kind. She’d delivered it like a proud tooka dragging in its prey, kicking the balcony door open in a way that made all of them flinch.

“I have snacks!” She announced and basically shoved the plate under Anakin’s nose. 

He put down the datapad slowly – Sola snatched it back the moment she could – and eyed the food.

“Did you make this?” He asked neutrally.

Some of Ahsoka’s brazenness morphed into shyness. 

“You keep missing lunch… and you always cooked for me. I thought it’d be fair.”

Sola saw Anakin blink away his surprise. 

“That’s… sweet of you. Thank you.” He picked up a piece carefully and then hesitated. “Is it spicy?”

Ahsoka smiled freely now, relieved. She offered the plate to Rex and Sola as well, looking pleased with herself.

“Of course. I know you like your food spicy, Master.”

He grimaced.

“I do but… I’m not really allowed to.” Lowering the hand with the dumpling, he gestured vaguely at his scarf. “The doctor was pretty harsh. No spicy food, no yelling, no breathing in smoke or fumes, that sort of thing.”

“Oh.” Ahsoka’s face was carefully blank and devoid of disappointment but her shoulders dropped a little. “They really banned all of your favourite hobbies there.”

“Tell me about it.” Anakin rolled his eyes. Then he seemed to think about it. “But maybe a little bit wouldn’t hurt…”

Sola snatched the dumpling from his hand. 

“Don’t even think about it. Let me try first.” She took a careful bite. It was a strange texture – kind of creamy and surprisingly soft. There was an aftertaste of a spice she couldn’t name. At first, there was nothing. And then – “Yeah, no.”

“It’s supposed to be some Tatooine dish but I didn’t have eopie meat so I used fish and the recipe wanted spices from some really specific plant and I figured if I replaced it with double the Onderonian pepper it’d be fine…” Ahsoka rushed to explain. “Since the stuff you made was always a lot more… intense than what I had on Onderon, you know.”

“Oh, steamed eopie dumplings. I thought it looked familiar.” He nudged Rex. “You want to split yours in half?”

Rex looked relieved. 

“Good idea, sir. I’m sure the food is good, but I’m a little too used to those damn ration bars.”

Sola watched the exchange helplessly. If Padmé were here…

“Are you sure you should…?”

“I second that.” Ahsoka jumped in. “Seriously, Master, don’t hurt yourself.”

Anakin waved them off.

“It’ll be fine. It’s just a one-time thing, it’s not like I eat this stuff all the time. Worry about Rex, he’s had about five flavours in his entire life.”

“Sir.” Rex said with as much offense as he could pack into a single word.

It must have indeed been fine – Sola watched him carefully for some kind of reaction but other than wiping some sweat off his forehead when he thought nobody was watching, the spice seemed to have no effect. 

“It’s really good. Not authentic maybe but… you know. Thank you. Since when do you cook, anyway?” He asked, clearing his throat inconspicuously. 

“I don’t, really. But I’ve been trying to learn. The program Rex and I work with – the Clone Citizenship Initiative – it offers these classes on stuff like cooking or how to set up a bank account and the things Kaminoans never taught them. I went as moral support at first, because some of the boys were really nervous about it and then I kind of… realized it’d be good for me to learn these things, too.”

“I see. Are you both attending?” Even under the exhaustion Anakin sounded entertained. Sola couldn’t blame him – she tried to envision Rex in a hat and an apron and failed. 

“Unfortunately.”

“Don’t listen to him. Rex is really good at it. He’s the only one who’s managed to flip pancakes with a pan so far. And I think the instructor fancies him.” Ahsoka teased. “Jesse set a fire the last time and got banned, though. It’s kind of cutthroat in there, there’s a lot of Clones and only so many classes we can fund, you know. If you mess up too badly, they boot you.”

“I feel like that is representative of what working in a kitchen is like,” Sola commented. “One of my aunties was a line cook for a bit, I think her nerves never recovered.”

“I can imagine,” Rex muttered to himself. “If I had to supervise these fools in the kitchen for a living I’d desert.” 

“If you’re having funding issues, I can help with that,” Anakin offered, suddenly serious. “I have some money I need to get rid of.”

Ahsoka shared a look with Rex.

“You mean Palpatine’s money? Are you accepting that?” She asked carefully. “Padmé said…”

Anakin was silent for a few heartbeats and when he answered, it was clear from his tone that he did not want to have this conversation.

“Padmé worries too much.”

“It’s just that… You know – he was a Sith Lord.” Ahsoka leaned against the table with her palms. “Isn’t it kind of suspicious that he put you in his will?”

“I know. I get that he had certain intentions but at the end of the day, it’s just resources. Does their source really matter more than what I can do with them?”

He had a point, Sola supposed. It was a rather pragmatic way of looking at it and ignoring his own emotional entanglement but it was certainly not unreasonable. 

“I guess not. I know you’d find a good use for it, that part was never in question. I’m just concerned because I know how much he meant to you.” Ahsoka’s sharp fingernails tapped a nervous pattern against the table. “And I also know what it’s like to leave the Order and suddenly find yourself out there to provide for yourself. I never once thought about money before and then all of the sudden it was the most important thing. If you gave me an opportunity like that then, I’d struggle to reject it too.”

“It’s not – You don’t get it. It’s not like that for me at all, I’ve always known what it’s like when you’re not a Jedi.” He leaned his forehead into the knuckles of his metal hand. “I had a job before, you know.”

“With all due respect, Master, I don’t think it’s called a job when you don’t get paid.”

Ahsoka, Sola was starting to realize, certainly didn’t hold back. This must have been a topic they’d talked about before – she seemed far too familiar with where the boundaries laid.

“I’m not talking about that.” Anakin muttered, still leaning into his hand. “I mean an actual job. My mother did some work on the side sometimes so we could afford to buy new clothes and fruit – Watto was a Toydarian and our meal plan generally included his scraps and leftovers, so that was kind of necessary to get all the nutrients that humans need. Anyway, when I was about six or seven, I wanted to buy a modular circuit matrix processor for Threepio so I copied her and started looking for odd jobs I could do for spacers at the cantina. It was just spare change, really, but I was willing to be patient with it.”

At first, Sola thought his story would end there. But he must have found something in the memory, because he went on and his voice was distant and quiet.

“Watto found out eventually, after a few months or maybe a year. He wasn’t too happy. He said I’ve been stealing from him. He owned the right to all of my labour, including what I did in my spare time. And I was stealing customers too, by working for cheap. I wasn’t, really, but he didn’t care. He took my money and a few baby teeth and that was the end of it.”

There was a lot, Sola thought, he never said with his words but lingered nonetheless. Rotten soil, all of it and the proof of it laid in what grew on it. Whatever could bear to grow on it.

“Your… teeth?” She knew what he had meant. She didn’t know why she wanted to make him say it.

“You’re focusing on the wrong things,” he told her flatly, unappreciative. “I don’t care if he hit me. There’s lessons in life you learn one way or another and I never made that same mistake again. But I hated being… I hated…”

Being nothing , she thought he might finish. Being property. His lips mouthed the words but his throat made no sound.

In her own way, Sola thought she might understand it just a little. Violence was awful, but live with it long enough and you might build yourself an illusion of control. Even on Naboo, many were thrown into that pit and many made it out again. Like every behaviour, violence had its patterns. 

The degradation, the lack of autonomy – those she had no basis for understanding. Rex might, she supposed, if the way he brushed Ahsoka’s hand in a warning when the girl opened her mouth was anything to go by. She ignored him and spoke up anyway.

“Right. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

If there was a response Anakin would have wanted to hear – at all – it certainly wasn’t this. His flesh hand coiled shut uncomfortably and he looked away.

“I’m not upset . I was just thinking. I haven’t really thought about it for years, but the Chancellor reminded me with his letter the other day.”

That answered the question of what was in that letter, Sola supposed and she bit her lip. Small wonder Padmé found it to be cruel and upsetting – and small wonder Anakin found it so hard to reject the offer.

“Letter? What letter?” Ahsoka asked and then when he didn’t respond, she answered her own question. “You told him about… this?”

“I must have, at some point.” Anakin pressed his eyes shut furiously. “I don’t know. I don’t remember, I was young and stupid, I guess. We talked about all kinds of things. I can’t believe he remembered. It's not even...” He didn't finish the thought and a part of Sola wanted dearly to know what he would have said. Important maybe; or maybe it'd be the worst experience I've told him about. She kind of hoped it was the former.

“You couldn’t have known.” Sola felt useless just saying it. Of course he knew that. Shame just wasn’t rational.

“It really wasn’t your fault.” Ahsoka was quick to agree. “I’m just surprised you talked with him about these kinds of topics, that’s all. You were always kind of private about it.” It wasn’t meant to be an accusation but the twinge of hurt echoed the unspoken question. She didn’t doubt that Anakin had picked up on it and appreciated none of it.

“It’s not the same. You can’t change the past so there’s no point in dwelling on it. It’s just holding onto misery. But he was the Chancellor, he could help – not me, I mean, I was fine. Other people. There was a point in talking to him.”

There was that logic again. As if he could somehow rationalize a betrayal of trust into a miscalculation, when everyone could clearly see where the real wound laid. It was ironic that he spoke of dwelling on misery – it was so horribly clear to Sola that no matter what he said, he’d never forgotten a thing. The distance he insisted on simply did not exist.

“But he didn’t do anything to help anyone, did he?” Ahsoka prompted gently. “I get it. I know what it’s like to be betrayed by a friend.”

“Right. Can we not talk about this? I have a headache and I have to – I have to check on the children anyway, I took too much time already.”

“I’m sure they’re fine. Mom knows what she’s doing.” Sola tried to reason. What had Padmé said about separation anxiety again? 

“It’s not her job to look after them, it’s mine.” He stood up and then paused, catching himself on the backrest of his chair until the dizziness passed. By this point, Sola knew not to say anything about it. “Anyway, thanks for the food. I appreciate it, really.”

Once he was gone, Ahsoka sat in his vacated chair heavily.

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” she bemoaned. “I went and chased him away.”

“I don’t think it’s you.” Sola did not know how reassuring that would be, but it was the truth. If Ahsoka had breached the topic on some other day, maybe it'd have been productive. But she’d made an attempt. On some level, he must have appreciated that. The affection that Ahsoka had for him which put him in the backdrop of her every story; it went both ways. 

“No, it’s a little bit me. I never know how to respond when he says something like that. I’m sure Palpatine didn’t have the same problem.” She idly grabbed one of the dumplings and tossed it in her mouth. “ Force .” She made a face. “I really went overboard. These are stuffed with lava .”

Somehow that brought Rex some relief.

“So it wasn’t just me then.”

“A moment of silence for Anakin’s esophagus. I can’t believe he ate it and didn’t say anything.”

At least Ahsoka was taking it in good humour, Sola supposed. She didn’t seem too discouraged – about Anakin or her cooking. 

But then after a moment she spoke again and this time she was more melancholy.

“I really can’t tell what’s going on in his head, though. He gets so upset about some things and not about the others – and it never makes any sense to me. I don’t see how I’m supposed to help.”

“I think,” Rex said slowly, “that sometimes people just feel the wrong things in the process of finding the right ones. You just have to let them. That might be difficult for you Jedi, though. You’re too concerned with what you’re feeling sometimes.”

“Yeah.” Ahsoka said after a moment. Her forehead crunched as if deep in thought. “I know.”

Chapter Text

Padmé commed them the day before the Water Festival. Sola was in the gardens with her mother, enjoying the cooler air carrying from the lake. The summer sun was still blowing hot – seemingly hotter each day – but with each day it also set just a little earlier, giving them more respite. In a normal year, she eagerly anticipated this shift in seasons just for the sake of change, but this time, she couldn’t help but feel like time was being wasted. That the summer that was mercilessly rushing towards autumn was yet incomplete. She couldn’t quite put her finger on why but it lingered like a foreign heaviness in the air.

Her sister breathed fresh life into that stiffness.

She spoke, briefly, of her reunions with her former staff and Senate friends but didn’t linger on them. Swiftly, she moved onto other things.

“There’s not much to say, so far. Dad and I went around Theed and I’ve spoken to my old University professors – but I’ll tell you about that when I get back. I don’t want to keep you for too long. I’ll have a speech at the procession tomorrow so… wish me luck.”

They did, of course. Even if Padmé would never confess to it, it made her nervous. It was not a matter of skill; she’d spent most of her lifetime working as an orator. But you don’t tame a language as much as you just become aware of its dangers. Certain topics were simply hard to approach with grace, no matter how much care you wanted to put into it.

“I’m certain you’ll do well.” Their mother told Padmé’s hologram. 

“It won’t be received well by everyone, regardless of how well I do.” Her sister untied her scarf – one of Anakin’s, Sola realized – and threw it over her shoulder, wiping sweat from her forehead. “It’s alright, though. The point of it is not to talk about things easily digestible in the current climate. What really matters now is the future. It won’t be better if we don’t build it better.”

“It sounds like a risk.”

Padmé just smiled.

“Tell me how things are going on your end,” she said instead. “Anakin acts like he’s giving a war report when I ask him. A very brief one, mind you.”

Sola pursed her lips.

“To be honest, your life is probably way more exciting right now than ours. There really isn’t that much to say.” And probably even less for Anakin. All of his focus was on the twins; he watched over them with the sleepless intensity you could find in a shepherd dog watching its herd. Sola did not for a moment believe that his world was truly as narrow as he wished it to be, but the devotion, at least, was genuine.

Whatever he had told her, Padmé must have recognized it was not all of it. She waited patiently, hungry for information and Sola did her best to deliver. She spoke of her own days, of the twins and how Ahsoka taught her daughters how to walk on their hands. She even described how Luke had thrown his dummy, just to make Padmé laugh. Their mother helped with her own stories.

“I’m sorry in advance, I’ll probably miss your speech tomorrow. We’re going to the Water Festival,” Sola concluded when there were no more updates to give.

“Oh?”

“Me, the girls and our guests,” she elaborated. “I know that the timing is… questionable, but I feel like it’d be criminal to waste this chance. We went there every summer, do you remember? It was a tradition.”

“I remember. I think it’s a good idea.” Padmé clasped her hands in front of her in determination. “It’s certainly a good distraction. The whole funeral business is rather morose. If you can celebrate instead, why not?”

This was all she’d said on the matter but Sola should have predicted the direction her thoughts would take. Her mother certainly had: when the sun rose next morning, she’d already cleared her day for babysitting even before anyone approached her about it.

For his part, Anakin did not look very happy to be there.

“I thought you said you weren’t going.” Ahsoka questioned anyway, slinging a backpack over her shoulder. “Not that I’m not pleased but what changed?”

“My wonderful wife thought it was a great idea.”

“Oh, so when she says it, it’s a great idea.” She rolled her eyes but she was smiling. Ahsoka, Sola recalled, had tried to get him to come along at any opportunity since the trip had been planned, with very little success. Her reward for the trouble had been an increasingly snappish attitude but she didn’t seem resentful. “You’re so corny.”

Still, just before they left the kitchen and piled up in the family speeder, Sola cornered him.

“Are you sure you feel up for it?” She asked, to be safe. 

Anakin raised his brows as if to question why she was asking. Normally, that’d put her on the spot but this time she would not let him play ignorant. She’d seen this kind of foot-dragging from Ryoo and Pooja often enough to know where it leads. Granted, he was an adult but…

“It’s going to be crowded and loud. And tiring.” Sola could recall how worn out she had been after these trips as a child. 

“I know.”

She eyed him critically and he evaded her gaze as if that would somehow hide his entire state of disheveledness from her perception. After a bit, he sighed.

“Look, I get it. I know I’ve been… a bit on edge, lately. Going out might help me clear my head a bit.”

“Is that Padmé’s opinion, or yours?” Sola asked in a low voice, just to avoid any curious ears.

He scowled down at her.

“It’ll be fine.” He said that with the childish note of ‘ Or else ’ in his voice that Sola found to be absolutely ridiculous. 

She didn't try to stop him from leaving. There'd be no point. She could tell even when he looked at her that her face was simply a place for those eyes to stop – nothing more. Most people were. Except for Padmé. For the whole time Sola had known him, he’d clung to Padmé like she was the thread holding his life together.

Self-inflicted as it was, Sola started to feel a sense of understanding for her sister’s situation. Padmè could not possibly keep both of them above the water. 

Nor could she; the line she did draw was when she saw Anakin aiming for the driver’s seat.

“Oh, don’t bother. We’re only going maybe ten minutes down, then we’re taking the shuttlebus. There’s no way I’ll find a parking space otherwise. The Vodnaya village is going to be crowded.”

That wasn’t the deterrent she hoped it’d be.

“I can still fly us to that point, then.”

Sola thumbed the keys in her pockets nervously. Seriously…

“That’s – ah – very kind of you but…”

“Master, there’s children on board.” Ahsoka decided to save her. Behind her, she thought she could see Rex make a sigh of relief but it might have been just the sound of him slamming the trunk shut.

“I don’t follow.”

“Yes, you do. Don’t give me that.” Unimpressed, she turned to Sola. “He insisted on flying on the way to Varykino, didn’t he?”

“He did.” Sola gave Anakin an apologetic glance – but she’d spent the entire ride gripping her seat with one arm and holding onto her daughters with the other. He huffed back in a way that meant offense was certainly taken.

“There’s nothing wrong with my flying. It’s perfectly safe. I’ve never lost a passenger.”

“I’m sure it is,” she placated. Lost a passenger? How do you even lose a passenger? “It’s just a bit… stressful.”

“She means you fly like a maniac. There’s absolutely no need for barrel rolls on a normal flight.”

“Oh, there were no barrel rolls–” Sola rushed to defend him, a bit half-heartedly. She hadn’t even known barrel rolls were an option; it would appear that going three times over the speed limit was Anakin on his best behaviour and she had to reluctantly appreciate that. Very reluctantly.

“Where’s this coming from? You never complained about my flying before–”

In the end, he’d relented but it had taken quite some persuasion. Sola felt just a tiny bit bad; and then worse once they were on the shuttlebus. They’d had to split into groups of two so Sola had ended up with the best position to listen to Anakin complain about the shuttlebus pilot at the slightest opportunity to do so. He winced at every bump and sharp turn.

“Does he think he’s flying cargo back here?” He said this just loudly enough that Sola was sure the driver heard him – immediately after, the shuttlebus jolted into another sharp turn, quick enough that she could distinctly hear several heads bouncing against the window. In the row in front of her, Ryoo yelped as she dropped her game console.

Ahsoka kicked the back of Anakin’s seat. For a few moments, he wrestled with the urge to turn back and respond. Sola could practically see his dignity battle with his temper.

Then she kicked again and the dignity lost.

“ What ? It’s not me .” 

“ I know but can you stop agitating him? ” 

He scoffed but sank back in his seat. Still frustrated, he shielded his eyes from the sun with one hand while pressing the knuckles of the other against his forehead hard enough that she could hear the whirring of the cogs. Without focusing outwards, she supposed his own misery had nothing to hide behind.

This was exactly why Sola was hesitant to let him fly. It wasn’t that she doubted his skills as a pilot – but he enjoyed thrill and thrill as escapism could be a dangerous thing. 

Anakin, Sola was beginning to get, simply did not deal well with stress. That was where that manic energy came from. He felt so intensely, it would not let him rest. It just looped in on itself, self-consuming until something gave. But it did not give readily – she remembered his illness and how long he’d held on.

She was able to muse on it for a few spare moments as the shuttlebus rocked on. All at once, the awareness of her presence snapped back into him and his countenance changed; he straightened out and let his hand drop limp into his lap.

"I can't stand public transport," he said, going for nonchalance. “I’ve been told to give it a chance on occasion.”

“Very generous of you.”

“Yeah, too generous. I’ve seen cattle driven with more care.”

The bus rocked again, threateningly and Anakin shut up. His eyes flashed in the direction of the pilot. He wasn’t even doing anything but Sola had the strangest feeling that the air was charged with some kind of malicious energy. 

“Just look at it this way, it’s an exercise in restraint.” Ahsoka suggested from the backseat. She either wasn’t picking up on Anakin’s murderous aura or simply didn’t care for it. “Obi-Wan always said that the smallest misfortunes make for the greatest teacher.”

“Snips, Obi-Wan is the biggest grouch you’ve ever met. Anything he says comes wrapped in two layers of hypocrisy and three layers of condescension.”

“I don’t know about that. Second biggest, maybe.” Sola could hear her snicker at her own joke. Even Anakin involuntarily seemed to unclench a little. 

He rolled his eyes.

“Real funny. May you have the misfortune of bumping into him when he’s hungover one day.”

“Can Jedi drink?” Sola asked, surprised despite what should be better judgment. So far she’d meet three Jedi – well, one Jedi and two dropouts – and if she’d had any preconceived notions on what religious serenity looked like, they were certainly gone by now. They were just people . “I mean, I know complete asceticism isn’t practiced but I assumed alcohol would be on the list.”

“It’s not forbidden,” Ahsoka responded from behind. “Technically. The Code doesn’t mention it specifically. It’s just the rules of conduct inside the Temple that ban it so… Loophole.”

“Just don’t get caught and you can do whatever,” Anakin shrugged.

There was a beat of silence – evidently, everyone’s thoughts went to the same place.

“Yeah,” Ahsoka said after a bit. “You’d know.”

By the glint in his eyes, he was going to say something positively scathing back but then Pooja’s head popped over the seat in front of them. Evidently, there were little ears listening in. 

“Can you do spice?” She asked, innocently. “I saw it in this holo-film–”

“ Pooja! ”

〰 〰 〰 〰 〰

Apparently, the Jedi could not do spice. It was a strong no from Ahsoka and a half-hearted one from Anakin which could really go either way. Sola had to admit she’d never really wondered about the matter but thanks to Pooja she now had that cleared up – along with a brand new awareness that she has to start monitoring her daughter’s HoloNet access more thoroughly. 

After that pleasant bus ride, she shepherded them away before Anakin could have words with their pilot. It was still early but the streets were already beginning to fill with people. At this time of the day, it was mostly parents with children. 

First, they visited the tourist trap store right at the entrance of the village because Ryoo and Pooja saw the colourful heart-shaped cookies in the display window and simply had to have them. They had a shaak-themed motif and the girls were charmed. Perhaps it was overly indulgent but Sola couldn’t refuse them. Then, they ended up wasting even more time because Ahsoka insisted on buying Rex a hat and Rex was, apparently, a picky dresser.

Once they had the cookies and the hat, she rushed them west, where the street ended in a shadowed woody trail leading directly to Shiraya’s Temple. It was a small, unassuming building with white pillars, a doorless entrance and a crude, wooden roof but the real treasure were the waterfalls behind it. There were nine of them, in total – one for each major deity. The water that spilled over the mossy rocks and ran under the Temple itself was clean enough to drink. Sola explained that after she purchased the floating candles.

“The ancient settlers believed that the water was holy. Naboo has a hollow core, so there’s no volcanic activity on the planet. But this particular river is one of a kind because it comes from a thermal spring. It’s not warmed up by magma like the springs on Alderaan but by pyrophoric gasses that have been compacted in the crust over millennia, from my understanding.”

“Wouldn’t it run out by now?” Anakin questioned, leaning heavily against the wooden fence that protected the area.

“It did. The reaction is kept going artificially these days, since the whole site was registered as natural heritage.” Sola smiled at him. “Does that ruin the magic?”

He gazed at the water with deep fascination.

“Not really.”

He elected to wait there and watch the waterfalls while the rest of them did their business in the Temple. Or rather, Sola and the girls did. Rex and Ahsoka just observed, holding cautiously onto the candles that Sola had handed them. 

There were two kinds of rites: the shorter Rites of Honouring and the Rites of the Devout. The Old Naboo had long since separated its faith into what was practiced culturally and what was practiced as part of organized religion. Sola herself was not particularly devout; the shorter rites were all she was familiar with. 

She helped Ryoo and Pooja recite the traditional stanza in front of Shiraya’s statue and wash their hands with the water from the clay mug at the foot of it. After that, they emptied the mug through an opening in the Temple floor and refilled it from the tap for the next visitors.

“You light the candle and you slowly drop it in – careful, if it tips over or extinguishes that’s bad luck,” she explained, holding back Pooja with one hand. Last time they went, she’d rushed in and dropped her candle. Consoling her about her subsequent bad luck had been difficult. “And then you make a wish.”

“And it comes true.” Ryoo finished, already lowering her own candle with a look of utter concentration. Her tongue stuck out from the corner of her mouth. “But you can’t say what it is out loud ‘coz then it won’t. And you have to be good. Bad people don’t get wishes.”

“I see.” Ahsoka’s eyes were gentle. “I’ll make sure to be good then.” 

This, Sola believed, was what the offering was all about. The magic of it had little to do with religion. Even for the non-devout and even for people who were complete strangers to Naboo culture, the Temple had a clear, calming air to it. It made you feel listened to. When Rex and Ahsoka knelt to release their candles, their facades lifted just enough for something wishful and vulnerable to shine through. The art of letting the candle go took a bit of focus; just enough focus that you felt like you made some effort towards whatever daydream you visualized. And then it was swept away, gone down the river and out of sight and it was like releasing something heavy.

It was rather strange; you’d never think of wishes as of something heavy. But once you let that longing out and left it to the will of the river, you felt freer. That was what Gods were for, Sola supposed. To give comfort and acceptance people so rarely find in one’s own actions. Everyone needed an older, wiser being to cry to sometimes. 

She’d never ask what they thought about; wishes were deemed private for a reason. But when she released her own candle, she hoped that whatever it was that they wished for – the two of them, Ryoo and Pooja – that the river would come through for them. 

By the time they got back to the village, the sun was high in the sky and they were sticky with sweat. There was little shade to be found on the streets. What seemed like hundreds of stalls waited raised against both sides of the road as far as the eye could see. The bright white cloth that made up the booth covers offered some protection to the vendors; with their wide, sweaty smiles, they didn’t seem too bothered by the weather.

Sola had a hard time keeping her daughters in line from that point on. There were so many people and the girls would run from one booth to another with reckless abandon. Before the war, she’d let them be but now the tight knot of anxiety would not let her. There was hardly any time for her to look at what was being sold with all the rushing she was doing and they got separated from the rest of the group nearly immediately.

Eventually, they got ice cream and candied apples from an old woman running a stand with her son. They found an empty bench to sit on and Sola swore that ice cream had never tasted quite so good.

They reunited with the rest of them a few hours later at a booth with a shooting carnival game. The owner was squinting at Rex in his best attempt to peek under his hat.

“Ain’t you a clone?”

Sola saw Rex tense. Next to him, Ahsoka put one hand on her hip in what should be an innocent gesture but was anything but.

“What about it?”

“Wow, it’s nothing personal, man. It’s just the game, it ain’t meant for soldiers–”

“Aw, Reb, give it a rest!” Another man called from the next booth over. “Who cares if it’s an easy win for him? The war’s over.”

The stall owner grumbled around the toothpick in his mouth.

“Fine, fine. I was just tryin’ to be considerate to the girl. Go ahead, sir, it’s on the house.”

Ahsoka just smiled sweetly. She was still smiling sweetly when she collected her giant purple lothcat plushie. 

“I think I’m going to call him Cat Windu,” she declared, struggling to hug it with both arms. Sola assumed it was a reference to someone.

“Better not let him hear about it,” Anakin warned her. “And I’m not carrying that for you. You should have thought about the prizes before you played the game.”

“You’re just mad because you didn’t think of it first.” She poked Rex with her elbow. “Do you want to keep him? That guy didn’t know what he was talking about anyway. If anything, the Force is the real advantage here.”

He shook his head. 

“Don’t sweat about it, kid. You won it fair and square. Besides,” he made a face, “I’d never live it down if I showed up at the headquarters with… this .”

“Cat Windu,” Ahsoka insisted. 

“I’m not calling it that either.”

Sola stopped paying attention to their conversation when Pooja pressed her hand into hers. 

“Mom…” she started sweetly. Sola already knew what was coming.

“Love, before the holidays are over I’m going to take you to the mall and you can pick any stuffed animal you want, I promise . But we are not carrying one of these around for the rest of the Festival.”

“It’s not the same when you just buy it!” She protested. 

Sola pursed her lips.

“On the way back, then. And you’ll carry whatever you get back to the Lake House yourself, you hear?”

When they reached the town square, they split up again. There was a children’s puppet show portraying some of Naboo’s most well-known folklore. They had a small raised podium, a live orchestra and – most importantly – the square had a cooling system in the form of several high arches running from one side of the square to the other which sprayed cold mist on the people down below. The relief this granted was immediate.

Sola was all too happy to agree when girls insisted on watching but for the sake of fairness, she felt obligated to inform the others that this might take a few hours. At that point, Ahsoka and Rex split ways while Anakin defied her expectations by staying.

“I’ll have to get used to these shows.” He dropped his eyes to the outer robe he’d been carrying around for some time now – which was a confession on its own. Sola raised her brows at him.

“...And it’s hot out there.” This admission sounded like it physically pained him.

No kidding, Sola felt like saying and it took a lot of effort to not actually say it. He was not dressed for the weather at all, even having removed a layer. At this point, she didn’t know if that was a Jedi thing or not; Master Kenobi overdressed but Ahsoka did not. But in either case, she felt like it wasn’t relevant. She had a sneaking suspicion that to Anakin it was just a matter of comfort. Mental over physical, evidently, but even he had his limits for how far he could stretch it.

“We’re going to need to get closer,” she commented instead. The podium wasn’t that high and the crowd around it was thick. “At this rate, the girls won’t see anything.”

But no matter how carefully she looked for places where they could squeeze through, there just weren’t any that wouldn’t put them way into someone else’s personal space. The crowd moved like a living creature, spilling now this way, now that way as people came and went. The speakers were booming to the point where they had to shout to hear each other. It failed to drown out the noise of at least three babies wailing somewhere. 

She was about to suggest they walk around and try the other side again when Anakin lost his patience. All that shoving and evading had been making him visibly antsy until he just picked up Ryoo and put her on his shoulders.

“– a solution?”

Ryoo gave her a wide-eyed glance, grabbing onto his hair for dear life.

“That’s too high up,” she might have squeaked. Sola couldn’t really hear her over the noise. 

“Don’t worry, I’m – ow, watch the hair – I’m not going to drop you.”

Ryoo wasn’t too reassured. “Mom?” She mouthed.

It was certainly a solution. Sola was used to being a single mother and doing things the hard way; it was always a strange realization how much easier things could be with at least another person to rely on. At that moment, she appreciated Anakin with all her heart.

“Good plan!” She called back and signalled to Pooja to get ready. She lifted her arms in preparation with far more excitement than her sister had – but that might have had more to do with the fact that Sola was quite a bit shorter than Anakin was.

Her shoulders and back certainly felt the strain of this. She had to grit her teeth until the show finally ended. By then, the sun had nearly set and the heat finally died down into something more manageable. It was quite pleasant to walk across the village now but Sola was ready to find Rex and Ahsoka and go home.

“Oh, drat. We didn’t set up a meeting spot,” she realized. She wanted to kick herself; she had simply failed to even think of it.

“They’re bound to be around somewhere, if we keep walking.” Anakin shrugged.

Sola supposed there really wasn’t much else to do. At least the girls had tired out somewhat. It was easier to manage them now.

One by one street lights started flickering on. Some booths were beginning to close and seeing parents with children was slowly becoming rarer and rarer. During this lull in energy, Sola had the time to think about her sister – something she’d failed to do all day long. Had Padmé given her speech yet? Was Palpatine buried already? She was tempted to pull out her datapad and check but didn’t. If Anakin had managed to forget about it – and she truly could not tell – she wasn’t going to be the one to remind him.

“Wait.” As if he could hear her thoughts, Anakin stopped in his tracks. He tilted his head, suddenly attentive, like a bloodhound who’d picked on a scent. “Do you hear that?”

Sola couldn’t, at first. It was only after he led them closer that she started to hear the unmistakable sound of humans being very very loud. 

“Sounds like there’s a party. That’s not too surprising, a lot of young people who travel here like to visit the bars after dark.” 

He wasn’t satisfied with that.

“That’s not it. I have a feeling it’s not the fun kind of party. Let’s check it out.”

She very much didn’t feel like checking it out. Whatever kind of party Anakin considered to be ‘not the fun kind’, she didn’t really want her daughters nearby. But he was already headed that way, walking with brisk excitement, and she couldn’t in good faith let him go alone, no matter how ridiculous that sounded to her own ears. 

“Stay close to me,” she warned the girls. They seemed confused, but she knew they’d obey.

The source of commotion was indeed a bar. It was a small house with a large, covered terrace and she could just make up a dense group of maybe fifteen to twenty people inside. Hurrying up a little, she caught up with Anakin who was talking to a policeman and another man – presumably the bar owner.

“–a warning, I must wait for reinforcements.” 

A glass shattered and a wave of cheer erupted from inside the terrace. Sola could smell alcohol from all the way where she stood.

The policeman grimaced. He was a thin, short man with a nervous constitution. 

“Kriffin’ tourists. Hooligans, the lot of them. We’ve been getting so many calls like these since the war ended.”

“When’s your reinforcement coming?” Anakin looked down at him with cold, hard eyes – utterly unimpressed.  

The man clicked his tongue in an attempt to stave off his own awkwardness. 

“I hardly think that’s –” Another wave of loud cheering rose from the bar; it overpowered a woman’s voice shouting angrily. The waitress, Sola guessed. The officer looked to the side and his eyes did a funny little dance where he refused to look at the owner. “I have no idea. We are horribly understaffed today. They have that procession going on in Theed and somehow expect one person to be enough for the whole of Vodnaya.”

“So it’s just you? For the whole festival?” Sola questioned. “That seems a bit… unwise.”

“Unbelievable. My place’s going to get trashed before anything gets done!” The owner gestured angrily. 

The policeman’s mustache twitched.

“The command’s going to send someone. I truly can’t help it, sir. Ma’am, I suggest you keep the children away from here.”

“You are useless.” Anakin didn’t bother voicing his intentions; he just turned on his heel and headed directly to where the waitress was still bravely trying to control the crowd. “Hey, cut it out, will you?”

“Uhh – sir? Sir? You shouldn’t do that, it’s not safe.” The policeman looked at Sola as if he expected her to do something about it. 

She chewed on her lip. At that moment, she genuinely did not know what to do. Keep Anakin out of trouble, certainly, but what was too much trouble for someone like him? Distantly, she heard him get booed. 

“Come on, man, don’t be a buzzkill!” Someone shouted.

“Yeah, mind your business.” A tall Togruta man with rich clothes gestured wildly with his glass, spilling the liquid over another man’s shoes, earning a shout of outrage and a shove. “The war’s over, brother. We’re just having fun!”

Uh, oh, she thought. Exactly the wrong person to say that to.

Anakin stalked closer; anyone with clear cognition would have been able to see the warning signs in his movements. 

“Did you fight in it?” He asked – or Sola thought he did. She couldn’t hear him well over the sound of the music and drunk chatter but the men clearly did. The noise died down into a mocking sort of curiosity. 

“What’s it to you? I paid fair and square for drinks and the venue. You got no right to tell me what to do.”

“You’re going to pay fair and square for the damages too,” the waitress threatened, emboldened now that she had support. Rounding a table, she subtly made her way towards Anakin. “And you threw a glass at me, that’s assault. I’ll have you banned from the premises and sued. Asshole.”

Someone splashed her in the face with the contents of their glass and the bar erupted with howling laughter. 

“Piss off, yeah?” A man shouted at her. “Unless you wanna have some real fun.”

“Wench!”

“Bastard!”

It was hard to follow what was being said. The waitress said something back and Anakin’s lips were moving but everything merged together in an incomprehensible mess of people speaking over each other. The yelling got angrier – then the Torguta shoved Anakin back.

And Anakin punched him in the face.

“ Sir .” The policeman moaned half-heartedly. He took exactly one step forward before he stilled, rocking on his heels.

“Stay here,” Sola turned to Ryoo and Pooja. “Don’t go anywhere.”

That one punch had been the spark needed to turn this into an outright brawl. Anakin’s hand was made out of durasteel and he hit hard; the Togruta had stumbled back with a bloody mouth and his companions wasted no time in getting revenge for him.

“Hey, back off!” Sola shouted. The waitress, having had enough, pushed past her in her retreat and nearly knocked her off her feet.

So far Anakin was doing well; he dodged a glass and hit the man who tried to rush him from the side with an elbow to the face. Another person, a twi’lek, got thrown clear across the room and into a table. More glass shattered loudly and a decorative candle that had been floating in a bowl of water fell on the tablecloth and then on the floor, thankfully extinguished. 

“Hey!” Sola tried again. If there was still a possibility for de-escalation, it would be now. “Anakin, come on! You’ve made your point, leave it to the Police!”

But nobody was listening to her, least of all Anakin.

He clearly had no intention of trying to negotiate again. Everything down to his posture screamed that he was locked onto the fight and would see it to the end. Nothing Sola said would break that all-consuming focus and it made her stomach turn with despair. It didn’t matter how good at hand to hand Anakin was or how eager. He was outnumbered in an enclosed space and the troublemakers were just drunk enough to lose all sense of self-preservation. If they had any to begin with. Sola knew their type; wealthy young men, rushing through life that had no challenges to entertain them. Consequences weren’t a thing that existed for them.

It was going to be an ugly lesson for someone .

“Please, before someone gets hurt–”

By pure dumb luck, someone managed to grab a fistful of Anakin’s outer robe. He gripped his wrist with his metal hand and twisted it at the same time as he kicked down at another man with enough strength that Sola could hear something in his knee snap. His brutality was almost mechanical in its precision – not a movement wasted or dwelled on. 

The confidence that earned lasted just a moment and then a movement caught her eye. Somehow, she’d failed to notice that a man had decided to go around and try his luck from the back. Anakin must have noticed – his eyes flickered briefly in that direction – but he had his hands full. 

Sola’s heart rate spiked. Shit. The man swung his fist, putting his whole weight behind it. Without looking, Anakin twisted to let it pass him by. Sola had not had the chance to feel relief yet when that hand which had brushed harmlessly past his face took a hold of his scarf on the way down – just as Anakin was blocking a blow from the person whose wrist he’d snapped – and pulled hard . 

Immediately, he dropped everything to claw at the thing choking him in blind panic. Leaving himself completely exposed.

“Get off him!” 

Sola’s ears were buzzing. She didn’t know where she suddenly found the courage – adrenaline, perhaps – but one moment she was standing and the next she was gripping the man by the upper arm and pulling him away. It was like trying to move a brick wall; her pulse spiked. Her thoughts were in a frenzy. She couldn’t think of anything else to do. She wasn’t even sure what she was doing. She just had to do something . 

“Stop it!”

It happened so quickly, she never even saw him turn. The next thing she knew, she was on the floor. Her face bloomed with pain a moment later, followed by her lower back. Involuntarily, she gasped. Dizziness rushed her and her ears felt filled with cotton.

Sola had never been hit before. Nobody had warned her how strangely the time worked. Her mind was running at lightspeed, aware of danger, aware that one hit would mean many, but her body would not move . 

She’d gained the man’s attention, alright.

No, no, move–

But the kick she expected never came. There was a loud crash and a pained howl but she couldn’t look. She scrambled backwards, ears ringing and heart pounding. 

The man who’d hit her was rolling on the ground, frantically trying to put out the fire that had started in his hair. Dark, sticky red bloomed from the side of his face, smearing all over, but he didn’t seem to notice.

Anakin, breathing hard, stood with one hand still outstretched. He’d thrown the candle in the glass. Then, quicker than anyone had the chance to react, he leapt on the table with an easy grace. 

Sola raised herself to her feet by leaning on one of the pillars that held up the cloth covering. Her awkward, trembling fingers went to her cheek involuntarily.

In numb horror, she looked on as every single candle decor rose from their table. 

The air changed . It shimmered with a cold, electric kind of energy; something old and merciless. She could not see it but she knew it was there – her other senses told her. She could hear it cracking like caged thunder, just on the edge of perception. The flames flickered wildly in a nonexistent wind. She recognized what it was at once.

A threat.

Suddenly the bar was no longer loud. Sola couldn’t tell at which point the crowd fell silent – maybe it had been quiet all along. Even the burning man, having put out the fire, had frozen completely.

“ Stand down. ” Anakin did not – could not – raise his voice but he didn’t need to. He had their attention. From the top of the table, he loomed over the room. The candles were throwing strange shadows, deepening the scar cutting across his brow and turning the bruises under his eyes into a feverish look.

His outstretched arm, Sola noticed from the pit of her own hysteria, was shaking ever so slightly.

“Oh, shit ,” one of the young men muttered, more to himself and his comrade with a bleeding nose. He didn’t seem to notice how far his voice carried in the quiet. “He’s a Jedi.”

“Jedi?” 

The unease among the crowd rose. 

“Wait – hold on – I saw him on the HoloNet before. It’s kriffing Skywalker!” 

The candles flickered and swayed – a message and a warning. 

“If you don’t feel like ending up like your buddy there, you’re going to do exactly as I say. You’re going to pay for the damage , apologize to the owner and the employees, go home and never come back. Understand?”

Any dissent died out quickly. A part of Sola had the presence of mind to be impressed – how effectively these proud, shameless young men were made to back off, scattering like mice from an apex predator. 

“Kriff off!” The Torguta spat from behind the hand he had clasped over his mouth. From the hit he had taken, Sola would have assumed he had to be missing at least a few teeth. He swayed lightly as he stood. “You’ll rot for this. Do you know who I am?”

“Should I?”

“I’m not gonna get intimidated by a reje–” He coughed and his bleeding mouth sprayed pink saliva down his chin. Anakin’s hand had tightened.

“By a reject with a parlour–” His voice spluttered out and he cleared his throat again. “With a parlour tri–” He didn’t finish. His throat made a horrible, wet sound as he gasped for air. His chest expanded and contracted desperately.

“With montrals like that, I’d really expect your hearing to be better.” Anakin had an odd, hazy look about him. He clenched his hand; all eyes immediately followed the action and the wheezing that followed. “But don’t worry, I’ll repeat myself for you. You will pay and you will apologize. You will scurry away like the vermin you are and you will thank the Maker every day for how lucky you are that my men died so you can celebrate . Do you understand, brother ?”

The Torguta just wheezed.

“I–”

“Sir, that’s enough.” The policeman suddenly materialized at the entrance. With his arrival, Sola was snapped back into the present. Her cheek pulsed with each heartbeat. Outside, a crowd was starting to gather. 

Anakin ignored the order so completely, it was like he didn’t even register it. His hair clung to his forehead with sweat. There were specks of someone else’s blood on his face. In the flickering candlelight, they shone like rubies. 

“I didn’t hear a yes.”

“Sir, please get off the table. That isn’t – that really isn’t necessary.” 

“Anakin.” Sola tried, pushing herself upright even as her head swam. But she couldn’t finish. It was the energy – that feeling of having her throat bared in front of an open maw. She wasn’t afraid of this man; she’d seen him both childishly delighted and effortlessly kind. Rationally, she didn’t fear him.

But her courage crumpled and died anyway. 

The Togruta’s face was turning a deeper yellow. His fingers worked up and down along his throat as he tried to pry off some invisible grip.

“Sir, I really must ask you to–”

“Anakin, that’s enough.” Master Kenobi’s voice cut sharply out of nowhere. He made his way past the officer, backed by an hesitant looking Ahsoka. “Let him go. And please get off the table, people tend to eat there.”

This did get to Anakin; he turned his head wildly in a silent warning.

“I’m not keeping him. All he has to do is agree.”

“Look at him. He can’t.” Master Kenobi spoke calmly but his face was hard and only grew harder with each moment that the Togruta fought for breath. “Does his terror bring you enjoyment? Or his pain?”

Anakin made a noise in the back of his throat.

“Don’t moralize. You have no idea what’s going on here. He deserves it, he–”

“–I have a pretty good guess. This is not justice and you know it. You’re just inflicting on someone else what was done to you.” The Togruta gasped as the grip got tighter. “Anakin, just look at him. Can you really say the punishment fits the crime?”

Sola could not imagine what was going on in Anakin’s head. His face recoiled like something wounded and she could see the struggle.

When the Togruta dropped on his knees, taking big, greedy breaths the whole room seemed to swell with relief. Anakin lowered his arm slowly, returning the candles back to their place with the shamed air of someone who’d suffered a crushing defeat. His skin was pale and shiny with sweat – he flinched away from the gasping Togruta like all of the sudden he could not bear the sight of him.

“Shut up,” he told Master Kenobi but it was flat. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Master Kenobi crossed his arms at the chest. 

“I happen to assume your wife would be displeased if you got yourself arrested. Again . Honestly, what were you thinking? And get off that table already, for Force’s sake.” He didn’t wait for a response, turning to the officer. “I assume you can handle things from here on out?”

“Ah – yes, sir. But–”

“–There’s no trouble, is there?” The question was said mildly but with a point. “I think it would be in everyone ’s best interest to put this behind us. These young fellows will go home and you’ll go on with your patrol route.”

“...That sounds reasonable, Master Jedi.”

“What about the damages?” The owner insisted, hotly. “Someone’s got to pay for those! Don’t think I didn’t see your friend throw that man into the table!”

“Ah. Well…”

Ahsoka touched her upper arm gently.

“Are you alright?”

Sola’s attention snapped back onto herself. She evaluated the situation. Her cheek throbbed and her ears were still ringing; and her tailbone ached from her fall. She sighed, forcing her lungs to take in and release as much air as possible.

“I’m fine. It’s nothing serious. I think my shoulders hurt more from giving Pooja a piggyback ride.”

“I’ll get you something for that cheek,” the waitress offered. She noticed Anakin staring their way and suddenly she was shy. She gestured to her face. “Uh – sir? You have something on there.”

He wiped at it distractedly and then frowned at the red on his fingers, like he didn’t understand how it got there.

“Thanks.” 

Ahsoka’s lips pressed together. Her fingers pulled away from Sola’s arm and she made her way over to him. He blinked owlishly when she took his hand in her own.

“Are you…?”

He breathed uneasily.

“I’m sorry,” he said Sola’s way while avoiding looking at her. “I’m… I’m just going to go wash this off.”

Ahsoka watched him go with concern. Sola didn’t dwell on it because all of the sudden her arms were full of Ryoo and Pooja, crying.

“Hey, hey, it’s fine.” She knelt down and ran her fingers through their hair. “Don’t cry, alright? There’s no reason for crying.”

“ It was scary ,” Pooja wept. “ I want to go home .”

“We’ll go home, don’t worry.”

Sola knew she had to lock away every part of her that was still reeling and put on a brave face. The girls would mimic her reactions; if she acted like it was nothing, then it would eventually be nothing, just a little fright.

Ahsoka positioned herself firmly in front of them while the drunk group passed by to leave. Her arms were crossed and her chin was raised in a silent challenge. After they dispersed, she called over Rex – who had, evidently, at some point been tasked with carrying the giant purple lothcat. 

“What a mess. I trust General Kenobi is handling things?”

“Talking things out with the owner. And getting free drinks, last I saw him.”

Sola blinked.

“He’s drinking ? At a time like this?” She shook it off. It was none of her business either way. But surely he couldn’t just brush it off like that? “Well, regardless, it was certainly lucky you came by.”

Ahsoka shook her head.

“It wasn’t luck. We came to check out the commotion and bumped into Obi-Wan along the way. I don’t know what he was doing but I think he was hoping for some action and excitement too.”

Action and excitement was one way to put it. There were very few people Sola knew who’d get eager to participate in a bar fight. Maybe that was what muddied things so much – violence was violence. Once you got used to it, the lines to be crossed crept a lot closer.

The waitress eventually returned with some ice for her and Sola thanked her profusely. Seeing her ice her cheek was upsetting the girls though so she excused herself to the freshers. 

“I hope it’s not too much to ask but…”

“We’ll look after the little ones,” Ahsoka promised. Then hesitated. “But if you’re already there would you mind checking in on Anakin? He’s been gone for a while.”

Sola was going to do it regardless but something in Ahsoka’s concern made her stomach turn.

“Of course.”

She took some time for herself first. The ice felt good but it would do nothing for the bruise. She leaned in to inspect the swollen skin in the mirror with morbid fascination. The colours of it merged almost like a watercolour painting; red staring to give into a darker purple. The skin was tight and hot to touch. She traced it faintly with her fingertips, careful not to cause more damage.

Who’d have thought the day would end like that? She caught her own eyes in the mirror. Her mind was still trying to keep up but already she could find herself making peace. It happened. It was done. There was no point in placing blame; should she blame the man who threw the punch? Anakin for instigating the fight? Herself, for jumping in without thinking? What would be the point of it? Nobody’s guilt could change anything – sometimes things just happened.

If nothing else, she mused, at least she’d have a story to tell her friends in Theed at their next reunion. 

When she was done taking a breather, she washed her face with cold water – then immediately discovered that they were out of paper towels. 

What else to expect from a fresher in a bar? It was a dingy mess; the lights were dim, the whole room smelled and there was trash spilling out of an overfilled bin. If the establishment had a cleaning droid, it certainly wasn’t doing its job well. 

She paused before the men's room, hesitating for a moment before she knocked.

“Anakin? Is everything alright?” 

There was no response and at first she felt silly. With her luck, he wasn’t even in there. Maybe he’d left while she was checking herself out in the mirror or maybe he had simply made a convenient excuse and hadn’t gone to the fresher to begin with.

Ahsoka had seemed so serious though… Her worry gave Sola a bad feeling and that was the main reason she tried the door anyway. 

It creaked open like it hadn’t seen upkeep in a century. Sola cringed to herself. Then, there was an odd sound; something between a groan and a sob. It took her a moment to realize it was someone throwing up.

Shit.

She pushed the door open fully, uncaring if it was inappropriate. Her eyes scanned the room until she saw Anakin in one of the stalls and then she was moving.

He didn’t seem to notice her when she knelt next to him. His body was tense like a bowstring and shaking with exertion. At a loss of what else to do, Sola brushed the hair out of his face.

“Easy, take it easy.”

He gasped wetly when the heaving was done. His hands released their death grip on the seat – which almost made him fall over if it hadn’t been for Sola pulling him upright at the last moment – to blindly tug at his scarf. He struggled with it frantically before his stomach rolled again and he had to lean over to gag again. At this point though, he had nothing left to throw up; not even bile.

It took Sola far too long to realize that he wasn’t just nauseous – he was struggling to breathe. Only when he stopped dry-heaving did she notice the open-mouthed wheezing and the pure, wild panic. His fingers couldn’t make sense of the scarf so he just started pulling in desperation, trying to get it off. 

“I–I can’t–”

Sola’s blood froze. Of course. During the brawl, he – but he was fine, he seemed fine…

“Shit, wait, let me–”

She tried to help him but Anakin couldn’t seem to comprehend that. Frantically shoving her hands away made them both lose balance. Sola caught herself against the floor and his back hit the wall of the cubicle with a loud crash that only seemed to disorient him more.

The scarf finally came loose but it brought him no relief. He gasped again, dragging his fingers up and down his throat in an effort to shake off some unseen obstruction. His efforts were leaving angry red welts across the ruined skin and if there was some damage there, Sola couldn’t get a good look when he kept moving–

–“Wait, let me see.” She tried to hold him down but he pushed her with surprising strength and she slipped on the smooth tiles. His skin was cold and clammy to touch. “Anakin, calm down, let me – you better not be dying. I swear to–”

She grasped his left wrist with both hands in an attempt to keep him from doing more damage with his fingernails. Already, some of the scratches were starting to bleed. 

“– no, no –” He tried to tear his hand away by swinging wildly. Sola tried her best to hold him down but it was in vain. Even incoherent, he was far stronger than her.

She did not hear the footsteps in the hallway.

“Is everything – oh .” Then suddenly Ahsoka was there. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

“I don’t know, he’s just–” Sola yelped when his metal hand slapped her away. “He’s going to hurt himself. I don’t know what’s–”

“Right, I got him.” Ahsoka took in the situation quickly. She grabbed Anakin firmly by the forearms and forced them down. “Go get Obi-Wan!”

Sola didn’t need to be told twice. 

By instinct or pure luck, he was still inside the bar, leaning against the closest bar table with a shot of something green and a look of anxiety.

“Ms, Naberrie,” he greeted her with a frown, “is something–”

“ Yes !” Sola gestured wildly towards the freshers. “Ahsoka told me to get you, something’s wrong with Anakin!”

He must have already known she’d say that. He downed his shot at the same moment as he was already standing up. He might have muttered something about not being able to leave Anakin alone for five minutes but Sola wasn’t fooled. He understood the urgency and he acted on it; the cavalier attitude was just for the sake of it.

In the men’s fresher, he froze for a moment and did a double take.

“Well, are you going to help?” Ahsoka hissed at him and that snapped him back. He dropped on one knee and tentatively reached out one hand.

“Certainly. It’s the neck, right?”

“Earlier – in the bar fight – someone tried to strangle him. With the scarf.” Sola filled in anxiously, suddenly realizing the two of them wouldn’t have been there for that. “ I didn’t – I mean, I thought he was fine, I didn’t realize–”

“Calm down,” Master Kenobi said but whether he was talking to her or Anakin, she couldn’t tell. “Let me see. Anakin – stop that . Just calm down.”

Between him and Ahsoka, they were able to hold him down – though he still tried, frantically, to kick them away. 

Master Kenobi touched his throat, ignoring the way Anakin started thrashing.

“Calm down.” He repeated. He frowned in concentration and his eyes slipped shut for a moment. Then, he pulled the offending hand away. His eyebrows were knitted. “It’s alright. There’s nothing wrong.” After some deliberation, he settled for laying it on Anakin’s shoulder.

“But he’s–”

“I know. But physically, there is nothing wrong with him except for some bruising maybe. This is psychological.” He gave Anakin’s shoulder a squeeze but his expression was serious.  “Anakin, listen – can you do that for me? Just calm your mind. Focus on your breathing, like we practised in meditation. Count to five, just like that.” 

He kept giving instructions in that even, patient voice and Sola felt uneasy at first, before it slowly started showing effect. 

Bit by bit, Anakin’s breathing evened out until Ahsoka felt comfortable releasing him and letting him slump against the wall. He closed his eyes and his lips trembled, as if he’d just gone through immense physical exertion. 

Whatever this episode had been, it had taken most of his strength. For what felt like hours, he sat there on the cold, dirty fresher floor with his eyes half closed and shuddering as if stuck by a fever. But when he did move, long after she’d given up on concern and settled with patience, his eyes were clear.

Only at that point did Master Kenobi remove his hand. He leaned back, running it through his hair – and despite his cool, Sola noticed he had been sweating too. 

“Anakin–” He started.

“Don’t . ”

She could tell it was hard for Master Kenobi to bite back what he was itching to say. He sighed into the tiles.

“Alright. Are you feeling better?”

Anakin’s answer to that was a non-commital grunt. 

“As long as you’re not dying.” Sola felt relief make her muscles weak. She crossed her legs before her. “Don’t scare me like that. What would I tell Padmé, huh?”

“You’d figure something out.”

He shivered again and she could see him counting the timing between his breaths.

“Here.” Master Kenobi took off his robe; at first he just offered it but when Anakin didn’t move, he just draped it over him like a big brown blanket.

“...you’re generous today.”

“Well, it’s not like you can get it any dirtier. Your spawn already left spots that won’t wash out.” His mouth twitched and his frown deepened. “If it was because of what I said to you earlier–”

Anakin’s eyes snapped open with irritation.

“I told you to drop it. I don’t want to talk about it”

“How do you expect me to? You–” Master Kenobi made a frustrated gesture. Then his demeanour softened. “What are you doing, Anakin? When’s the last time you slept?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“Or ate, for that matter,” he went on as if he didn’t hear. “I just want to understand. If you let me help–”

“Right, help . As long as you get those damned holocrons and get to wash your hands of me.” Anakin pressed against his forehead with a trembling hand. Even his voice sounded tired. “Just drop it.”

“Master.” Ahsoka spoke up when it looked like Master Kenobi would not, in fact, drop it. “Can’t we talk later? I feel like Skyguy would rather be home than in a stinky public fresher right now.”

The two of them shared a long look. Master Kenobi swallowed.

“Alright,” he said. “Alright then. Can you walk?”

Anakin closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the wall. He gingerly felt along the edges of the scratches on his throat with the tips of his fingertips.

“Give me a minute.”

But it was the throat that took her attention. With the scarf gone and without the adrenaline, Sola saw it clearly for the first time – and the sight of it made her understand why he felt like covering it up.

The skin at the point of the contact had turned almost black; it circled his neck in a blurred but distinct shape of handprints like a dark collar. There were other, lighter, marks around it but the place where the Chancellor had strangled him stood out clear as day. It made her stomach turn and she had to look sharply away. The reaction shamed her but she told herself that he was too distracted to notice anyway.

Some things are just forever, I suppose, Padmé had said once. She had not understood then but now that statement chilled her. What a horrible thing to carry forever.

Later, when Master Kenobi helped him to his feet, Sola made sure to get the scarf.

“Do you have a speeder nearby?” He asked her, bracing so he could support Anakin’s weight before he toppled over from dizziness. 

“Ah – we came with a shuttlebus. It comes every hour so the next one would be in an about…” She reached for her datapad to check because she had no idea how much time even passed but Master Kenobi stopped her.

“That’s alright. I have a speeder, we’ll just go ahead.”

For some reason that made Anakin laugh hysterically.

“You do not have a speeder,” he wheezed when Master Kenobi looked at him sharply in concern. “You robbed someone, you lying sack of bantha–” He couldn’t finish.

Master Kenobi frowned.

“You really do worry me.”

That just made him laugh harder.

Sola would have thought that laughter would be reassuring to hear after all this but his obvious mood swings were anything but. Ahsoka thought so too.

“Master–” she started.

Master Kenobi shook his head. 

“Go with them, Ahsoka,” he told her quietly. “Let me handle this.”

Her scowl this time looked exactly like Anakin’s – Sola had never noticed that before but now she couldn’t unsee the similarity.

“Just make sure to actually handle it this time.”

She was obviously unsettled, even as she gave Rex the update in short, clipped sentences.

“I see,” was all he had to say. “Will you be taking the… beast back now?”

Ahsoka’s lips twitched just the slightest bit.

“It’s Cat Windu.”

“Thank you for looking after the girls.” Sola took the time to address Rex once they started towards the bus station. Ryoo and Pooja were just a tiny bit confused where Anakin went, but they seemed too focused on going home to worry about it. “Truly, I mean it.”

“It’s nothing.” Then, more awkwardly: “You… did look after my General. I’d call us even.”

“Honestly, I didn’t do much.” In that department, crying little girls were easier to handle. You just comforted them and that took the teeth out of their pain. Anakin took his blows and emerged dry-eyed and furious. 

How to handle that?

She remembered thinking once how every viciousness he indulged in came from the place of deep confusion; of trying to make sense of the things that were done to him with a childish lack of understanding of where wrong started to split from right and where justice hit the boiling point and turned into cruelty. She knew it was true now. And she knew how little it actually helped him. 

All that lashing out would never hurt Palpatine or his old slave masters. It only ever hurt Anakin.

It made her feel horrible for him. He was losing his grip – and she thought he knew it. 

〰 〰 〰 〰 〰

Getting back to Varykino was a release of tensions she didn’t know she held. The Lake House was a familiar shape, illuminated in turn by moonlight and the soft golden glow of the lights her mother had left on inside. 

They found Master Kenobi with Jobal and the twins in the kitchen, drinking tea. They were talking in low voices but stopped the moment they saw them enter.

“Oh, my!” Her mother gaped when she saw Sola’s bruise. “What happened?”

“It’s nothing really, it hardly even hurts.” She smiled, lying through her teeth – the bruise did still hurt. But Ryoo and Pooja were there, rushing to their grandmother to recount their versions of the events, and she certainly wouldn’t be admitting to it in front of them.

“Well, if you don’t mind, I would also like to know the whole story.” Master Kenobi crossed one leg over the other in an image of casualness.

“Master, is Anakin…?” Ahsoka leaned back on her heels, nervous but unwilling to show it.

“Sleeping.” His voice was soothing. “You can imagine he was quite tired. I thought it best to let him rest.”

He was willing to wait, patiently, for Sola to get Ryoo and Pooja to go to bed before she took the time to sit down in the kitchen with the rest of them. Her mother had warmed up soup for them but Sola found she didn’t have much appetite.

“I don’t really know what set him off in the end – that the man had hit me or the strangling. But I think it was already spiraling out of control before you even got there. It wasn’t your fault.”

Master Kenobi frowned into his tea and said nothing. Perhaps, Sola thought, he could sense she wasn’t entirely honest. 

It tied back to what Anakin had told her that night on the steps. What Master Kenobi said to him must have disturbed him – but who could say which part of it had sent him over the edge? The realization that he’d lost control again? Or finding himself cast suddenly in Palpatine’s shoes and facing the realization of how much intentional and deliberate cruelty was needed to drag someone slowly to the brink of death?

Her mother looked between the two of them critically. 

“Poor boy. I do believe that this was a long time coming, though.”

Sola felt like she had to agree with that. “Probably,” she said. “It was a lot at once. He hadn’t been having the easiest time lately. And the Chancellor is being buried today – has been buried by now.”

“But it’s not like him,” Ahsoka insisted. She seemed shaken up. “I’ve never seen Anakin like this. Not even when you died.” The last part was directed with a slightly accusing tone at Master Kenobi.

His lips thinned.

“That was – let’s not talk about that now. Ahsoka, you got the very best of your Master, you have to understand that. He’s always been… troubled, in some ways, but he tried for you. I think it helped.”

Her shoulders slumped.

“I shouldn’t have left then, should I?”

“You had the right to leave and put your own well-being first. Anakin isn’t your responsibility.” 

This was said as offering to neatly absolve her of the guilt but Ahsoka didn’t take it. Her face was solemn, promising that she would continue to think what she wished.

“In that case, he’s not yours either.”

Master Kenobi stirred his tea idly. It must have gone cold by now and Sola had yet to see him take a sip.

“He’s his own person, that’s true. He makes his choices and some of them I don’t agree with.” He allowed. “But I couldn’t help but think recently – after he called me, in that office, and I thought – well, nevermind that. Many years ago, Anakin’s mother trusted her only child to my Master and to the Jedi. I never gave it much thought but… It couldn’t have been easy, could it? It certainly took courage to send him away but she did it because she hoped that with us, he might have a better life. A longer life. I wonder what she’d think of it now.”

Sola thought it bothered him more than he let on. Her stomach rolled at the memory of what Anakin’s neck had looked like. What was it that Master Kenobi had seen on that last holocall? What would the injury have looked like fresh?

Certainly, she thought, it would have been a horrible way to die. Maybe that was why he couldn’t quite move past that scenario. Even evoking Anakin’s mother and her feelings, like a stick to beat himself with.

“Master Jedi,” her mother started suddenly. “Forgive me if I’m overstepping but – whatever happened to Anakin’s mother?”

“Ah,” Master Kenobi stroked his beard with an unhappy look. “Her name was Shmi. I’ve never met her but she was by all accounts an exceptionally kind woman. She died a few years back, just before the war started. Anakin had never been too forthcoming with details, but I believe she’d at least been freed before her death. He has a step-father and a step-brother back on Tatooine, actually, though he might not really regard them as such if you were to ask him.”

“I see. But I don’t understand, from my limited understanding of her situation, why the Jedi couldn’t have done anything for her?”

What a loaded question, Sola thought. This must have bothered her mother for some time.

“To tell the truth–” Master Kenobi started and then stopped. He glanced tiredly at the twins – sleeping for once. “To tell the truth, perhaps we could have. There were many things we could have done differently. I fear I still struggle to recognize all of them.”

Her mother accepted that answer with careful, open consideration.

“You cannot change the past,” she said, “but at the end of the day, you are still here. The Jedi Order still exists. It’s not fair when other people pay for our lessons but that does not mean we can’t learn from them. Life is full of that, Master Jedi.” 

“I agree,” he said, still looking at the children. “I think the Force always tries to guide us to be better. Sometimes, we can all be so willfully blind – and things get set in stone, as if we were arrogant enough to believe that any wisdom could ever truly be timeless. Everything changes, if given enough time and room to grow. It’s not a bad thing.”

He smiled sadly. “It’s not fair of me to talk about change, though. I’m still here while many aren’t.”

It struck Sola as odd that he could feel like that – the same exact way she felt when listening to Rex and Ahsoka talk about the war. And then thought about Rex, who refused to share a monument with his dead brothers. Ultimately, she thought, everyone knows someone who’d sacrificed more. 

“At least you fought,” she mused. “A lot of us just sat at home and risked nothing. Honestly, I can’t say I blame Anakin too much for punching that snob. I hope he needs dentures.”

“Sola.” Her mother’s eyebrows rose.

“What? I got punched in the face today too, I’m allowed to say that he had it coming.”

〰 〰 〰 〰 〰

They stayed like that for a while, just talking. It was nothing too serious – though she could tell there was a tension in the air. It was this tension that kept them awake to begin with.

The twins woke up eventually, fussy once again. Sola had truly never met children as disinclined to sleep. She might joke about genetics at play, but Padmé and Anakin were truly geared up for some truly wonderful toddler years. She wouldn’t be surprised if in two years’ time, the answer to the question if they wanted more children was a decisive ‘ no ’. 

Then all of the sudden, the children’s fussing turned into wailing. A few moments later, Master Kenobi and Ahsoka were pushing back their chairs and springing to their feet in a reaction so synchronized, she would have thought it practiced if she didn’t know better. Sola didn’t waste more time. With a delayed reaction, she was just behind Rex as they followed them upstairs and left her mother behind with the twins.

They headed towards Padmé’s bedroom – of course they did. Sola had known, with a sickly certainty, that that was where they’d go.

Master Kenobi didn’t open the door as much as he kicked them open with the kind of panic that she hadn’t seen on him even earlier.

She got the briefest glimpse of Anakin, bathed in red light in an otherwise dark room. Sitting curled up in the mess of blankets on his bed, he stared unblinking at the hologram in his hands. The figure spoke to him with a clipped, artificial voice.

“– cannot deny –”

Sola didn’t see much more than that – the next moment, there was an electric sound and a flash of blue light and then nothing. Whatever was being said flickered out of existence with the crumbling of red-hot metal.

Master Kenobi turned off his lightsaber, casting the room in darkness. The only light source came from the hallway, but it illuminated just enough that she saw him grab Anakin roughly by the collar of his robes.

“ Anakin, you stupid child! ” He hissed. “What were you thinking? What possessed you to–”

Anakin, uncharacteristically, put up no resistance. He let the broken holocron – and it was a holocron, Sola knew now, the same one that he’d received from Palpatine– roll from his limp hands with complete passivity.

“I know.” His voice sounded dead. “I know. I had to know. I had to.”

“You ‘ had to ’? Are you hearing yourself?” Master Kenobi shook him roughly. “What do you even think you’re doing?”

He stopped, taking a deep breath to calm himself but it didn’t seem to work.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with you. You have two children who depend on you, you have people who’d help you if you let them but you’d rather toy with the dark side and obsess over the man who mutilated you! What am I supposed to do? Tell me what do you want me to do!”

“I know. I know. I – I’m sorry.” Anakin coughed but she could hear the tears in his voice. It was as if something heavy had finally dislodged from his heart – and what spilled out was too much for him. His chest rose and fell in an escalating tempo. Then, the last of his self restraint crumbled and he lurched forward just to bury his face in Master Kenobi’s shoulder with a wail. 

“I’m sorry.” He babbled through sobs. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“You–” Master Kenobi startled in disbelief. He just watched him cry for a few moments; it was not a subtle or pleasant thing. Anakin wept like it was the only thing he could do short of screaming. It wasn’t just vulnerability. It was as if all his skin was peeled back, exposing the mess of blood and muscle beneath – and everything he had never wanted to share or admit to was spilling out without his consent. 

At first, Sola thought he’d just leave him like that. Then, slowly his grip on Anakin’s collar loosened and he settled instead with one knee against the bed. One of his arms found its way to Anakin’s back; the other, awkwardly, to the back of his head. 

“You stupid child,” he repeated. “What am I supposed to do with you?”

Anakin had no answer for him. He grabbed at Master Kenobi’s clothes like he expected to be torn away.

“Don’t leave – you can’t leave me . ”

“Anakin…”

“He was my friend.” The sentence came out mangled almost beyond comprehension but it seemed to take so much out of Anakin to say it. 

“...I wish he had been.” Master Kenobi kept his voice low; she almost didn’t hear it over Anakin’s sobbing. Not a ‘ He wasn’t ’ or a ‘ It shouldn’t matter ’. For once, he seemed to understand. “I truly do.”

“I had to know. Why me? Because he picked–”

“Stop that, Padawan.”

Sola felt her own bones turn heavy with some unshakable, empathetic sadness. She backed away from the door. This was not intended for her eyes; nor for her ears. Some things deserved privacy.

“Come on, kid.” Rex put a hand on Ahsoka’s shoulder. She hesitated. “Give them space. You know he wouldn’t want you to see this.”

She relented, unhappily; more out of helplessness and confusion than actually wanting to walk away. Downstairs, she collapsed in the first chair she found, anxiously interlocking her legs. Sola exchanged a look with Rex – he shrugged at her.

“What was this all about?” He asked. “That thing Skywalker had, was that…”

Ahsoka stared at the floor.

“A Sith holocron.” Her voice was even. “I sensed it the moment he opened it. It felt repugnant, like – I don’t know. The Sith Master, I suppose. I’ve never felt a presence like that before. But I don’t understand, I thought that to open a Sith holocron you needed to…”

She trailed off.

Sola was not an idiot. It required something bad – why else would Master Kenobi be so upset? But whatever it was, Ahsoka did not want to put Anakin’s name on it.

“Is it gone now?” She asked instead. Untangling everything Anakin did or all he might have intended was too much for this time of the day. It felt both cruel and solutionless.

“It should be. I can’t sense it anymore.”

There was nothing else for them to do. Sola watched the grandfather clock slide around in a circle until Master Kenobi descended down the stairs, half dragging a miserable-looking Anakin behind him.

He pushed him on the sofa none-too-gently; and then, as if he felt bad about it, bent down to fix the blanket he had strewn over his shoulders. He patted him awkwardly, almost as if dealing with a particularly misbehaving dog.

“Look after him, will you?”

This startled Anakin out of his passivity.

“Where are you going?” He asked, suspicious.

“To clear my head. When I get back, you and I will talk but I can’t deal with you right now.” 

“ Oh .” Anakin stared at the floor timidly. His eyes, Sola noticed, were puffy from crying but he’d calmed down. No longer hysterical, now he just looked like he wanted to crawl somewhere and disappear. 

Noticing she was being beckoned, Sola followed Master Kenobi to one of the sound-proofed drawing rooms where her mother went with the twins. He walked briskly and with purpose; it was taking all of her effort just to follow along.

“Master Jedi!” Her mother stood up as if to say ‘ finally ’. “Is everythi–”

He raised a hand. 

From the folds of his robe, he produced the two pieces of the holocron and knelt in front of the crib. He held the items in front of them, waiting for some reaction. There was none.

Satisfied, he rose back to his feet.

“I thought as much,” he muttered to himself.

Sola tried to follow.

“Is the… holocron impacting the children?” But it didn’t make much sense – the twins were weepy even before the lawyer even showed up with the damned thing.

“The holocron?” Her mother asked. “What holocron?”

“I considered it might. But no, that was all Anakin.” 

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“The children – they’re often upset are they not?” He brushed Leia’s face gently with one finger then paced the room. “I don’t reckon it’s on purpose. It’s hard to explain – but, in the Force, they’re more connected than they ought to be and he’s not doing his part to keep his emotions to himself.”

“Oh.” Suddenly it all made sense. The timelines fit: the twins were often the most colicky when Anakin was upset.

“Think of it like rooms connected by a hallway. If someone were to – say – constantly walk across that hallway, open doors and close them, things would start to mix. The air from one room would leak into the other. Children this young don’t understand complex emotions but they do understand security.” He explained. “They can recognize fear; even if it’s someone else’s, it makes them uncomfortable because they know fear means things are not safe.”

“Is that why they were crying?”

“I assume so.” Master Kenobi paused his pacing, as if he’d stumbled across a realization of some kind. “Parents often pass their sorrows onto their children without intending to. I’ll speak to him about it.”

“Excuse me,” her mother cut in, sharp in a way that screamed frustration. “Does anyone mind explaining anything? What holocron? What’s going on?”

“That’s what I would like to know too. Where did this thing come from? Lady Amidala said Anakin had not signed anything yet.”

Sola winced.

“It’s Palpatine’s. He got it from Mr. Potoki – the lawyer – when he visited. I… I thought it was a paperweight or something. I didn’t realize.”

The full force of Master Kenobi’s attention was on her now. His eyes seemed to burn right through her.

“Was there anything else?”

“No – I mean, yes. A holo picture of the two of them and a letter. And – Padmé had read that one, so I don’t think you need to worry. But no holocrons.”

“I see.” He sighed tiredly and leaned against the wall. He ran his hand through his hair – suddenly, he seemed older than his years. She got the distinct impression that this was all of the stress he wouldn’t show in front of Ahsoka. “You couldn’t have known what it was. And there was no harm done. But Ms. Naberrie, is there anything else I should know? Today has been quite… startling, to say the least.”

Sola chewed on her lip nervously. 

He probably already suspected. He must have – he was a Jedi. 

But she’d made a promise. Could she break it? And then – thinking of Anakin today – should she? He’d told her in confidence but he was…

I’d have done anything . To save Padmé – to save himself from things he couldn’t live with. He’d never changed his mind on this at all and nobody else could see it. He wouldn’t help himself. That was what the rest of them did not have the context to understand. This whole spiral was part grief and part self-punishment.

She closed her eyes. Anakin would just have to forgive her. But she could not bear being accountable for keeping his secrets when they were killing him so clearly. 

“There’s a few things.”

〰 〰 〰 〰 〰

There was the trick with truth – it was never a united whole, no matter how much people wanted to believe in it. There were many truths, often contradictory but nevertheless all true. Human beings were too complicated for anything else. No matter how hard anyone tried to eliminate the redundant and shear off what parts refused to be simplified, ambiguity remained. 

The pursuit of a singular vision only ever led one way: to despair, to broken dreams and doors opened that can no longer be closed again. To loving someone yet failing to see them anyway. 

She hoped Master Kenobi understood this. What Anakin had said had been true to him. It didn’t mean it was the only truth.

He’d looked somewhat pained through her retelling. By the end of it, that turned into sadness.

“I see – I think I understand now.”

Sola hoped to the Goddess that he truly did. It was a delicate matter. 

“Don’t take it at a face value,” she said anyway. “I don’t think he is as horrible as he thinks he is.”

Master Kenobi’s face contorted.

“No. But he’s allowing himself to be worse than he needs to be. Force, to think it had been that close. He’d never said…”

She still worried about what he’d say to Anakin. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe in his best intentions – but he had a horrible talent for picking his most devastating criticisms for the most painful spots he could find and Shiraya knew Anakin had plenty of those.

Anakin evidently expected the same. He didn’t look up when they came back, slumping with the guilt of a convict being led to the court. This, too, was telling.

“Master,” Ahsoka jumped to her feet. “I think that there’s no need to – I mean, Skyguy just made a mistake, he’s not dangerous so–”

“–Ahsoka.” He cut her off and she deflated. “I’m not going to tell the Council.”

“Oh. I mean, good. That’d be stupid.”

He glanced at Anakin, staring impassively at the same spot on the floor. “Unless you want me to.”

“Do what you want.” Anakin replied, surly, without looking up. He drew the blanket closer around himself like a shield. “You don’t need to mess with me.”

Master Kenobi seemed displeased with that.

“Look at me,” he ordered. After some hesitation, Anakin did, looking simultaneously resigned and defiant. “I’m not messing with you. I’m asking. There are Masters who might be more help with this than me. Master Yoda, perhaps, or Master Windu; he has some experience with–”

A snort.

“I’m not going to Windu. How do you think he’d react if I told him what I did? Either of them for that matter.”

“And what did you do, Anakin?”

“Is this a trick question? If you’re looking to get a confession then yes , Master, I did use the Dark Side. I did it willingly and with a full understanding of what I was doing. I–” He bit his lip and looked away sharply. “Just get it over with. Say what you’re going to say.”

Next to him, Ahsoka winced but Master Kenobi was unphased. 

“I don’t think there’s any sense in yelling at you. If years of training certainly didn’t seem to get this lesson through, I doubt there’s anything I can say now. I’d like to hear you explain why but –” He grimaced, running a hand across his face. “But I suppose I understand why you don’t. I think what I need to say here is that I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“You heard me.” He took a seat on one of the armchairs and leaned on his knees. His face, for once, was honest and open. “You have so little faith in me. I suppose I must have earned that over the years. I should have been willing to listen to you when you tried to tell me about yourself.”

This was a good approach, Sola thought. An effort had to be made both ways and the two of them had about a decade’s worth of tensions to dig through.

Anakin disagreed – by the look on his face, you’d think Master Kenobi spat in his face.

“Don’t you dare try to sweet talk me. Go to hell.”

“I’m not – I’m not manipulating you. Force, Anakin, do you really trust me so little?”

Anakin’s silence was wary and revealing. She supposed it shouldn’t be too surprising that he found trust to be a difficult thing, considering. 

“Ask Ahsoka then if you don’t believe me. It was always my plan to apologize. I’ve known for a while.” He leaned against his knees and his expression was pure discomfort. Uneasy – he hated extending that trust, too. “I… fear I’ve made you miserable often, over the years. It was never on purpose but I was careless. I asked for too much and offered too little and I never really cared to understand why you did the things you did. I thought the best thing I could do for you was train you to fit in. If I had to be harsh, I thought, it would be in good cause. But Anakin – when I thought I lost you, I’d have taken it all back if I could have been a better friend instead.”

It hung over the room; many sleepless nights must have gone in that realization, Sola thought. She didn’t think giving his heartache a name came easily to Master Kenobi. Especially not one that meant so much. It was not just Anakin, she thought. It was years and years of his life, devoted to someone, to learning and growing together – and then having that snatched away. He treated Anakin with the nonchalance reserved for annoying little brothers rather than the gentler consideration a parent might have but he was still family.

Anakin wrapped the blanket closer around himself.

“You never told me those things,” he muttered. “I didn’t know. Why are you telling me now?”

“I think you deserve at least this one apology.”

“...You don’t really need to. Especially not like this. I’m a living being, you know. You have to at least let me have my choices – they’re my choices. It doesn’t have anything to do with you. You… You are not the problem, I am. I’m a horrible person.”

“You’re not.” Master Kenobi sounded affronted. At this point, Sola didn’t envy him for having to navigate this. Anakin’s bite could switch targets so quickly; from lashing out to self-hatred. But it was kindness that did it, she thought. The moment he was face to face with compassion, that spite turned in on itself. At the true bottom of it, the one being he truly loathed was himself.

Even with all that had happened, Anakin wasn’t hiding some terrible thing. Just his own fragile heart.

“Don’t say that. Do you think I’m stupid?” His moment of passive self-criminalization had already passed. “Do you think I can’t see it? To you, I’m already ruined.”

“Anakin…”

“No – Don’t tell me it’s not true. I trusted him and I listened to him and he thought – he wanted me to – and every time you look at me a part of you wonders if he was right about me. I can see it. You and the Council, you’re just waiting for it. You always were just waiting for it. How did you all know it? You, the Council, Palpatine – you saw me once and you just knew it.”

“That’s not true. I told you that I regret–”

“–You compared me to Maul. You said that.”

Obi-Wan was quiet.

“I never meant that with it,” he said. “It wasn’t likening the two of you that way. Maul is a very different person. It was simply your situations that were similar. When I spoke to him, he knew what Sidious had planned and – it could have been you. You were both manipulated by–”

“–What does Maul know about me? What does he know about me and the Chancellor? He never – he’s not – I’m–”

“Calm down.”

Anakin took big, deliberate breaths. His forehead was damp with sweat and he hunched over, bracing against his knees as if he just crossed some immeasurable distance. Sola thought he was going to cry again.

“What am I supposed to do now?” He whispered against his palms. “Tell me what to do.”

Master Kenobi regarded him sadly. There was what he’d claimed to have come there for, served to him on a silver platter. But it was seeped so deeply with something unspeakable; it had to be crystal clear, to him and to everyone, that Anakin wasn’t asking for guidance as much as he was lying down and baring his neck for a new violation.

“ No , Anakin. I can’t do that. Your life is your own.” There was something like a pity in that statement as if he thought Anakin would not understand why he was rejecting him. “But I do wish that you would talk to me.”

Anakin groaned. He’d worn himself down completely. Sola could tell that at this point, he lacked the willpower to put up a resistance – he wanted, on some level, to be comforted. 

“Where’s the point? It’s not anything you can help with. But – I’m so tired. I can’t eat. It hurts all the time. And every time I try to sleep I have the same dreams.”

“Dreams? Not visions, I hope?”

“No. Not this time. But I did, before.” His voice was hoarse. “That’s how this all started. First, it was my mother, then Padmé. And in the Chancellor’s office – I thought I was going to die. It was like… I don’t know how to describe it. Like floating in warm shallow water and it was taking everything to not just – sink .”

Ahsoka, who’d been listening pensively, startled at that.

“That seems… familiar.” Her brow crunched. “I can’t tell why but I think I know what you mean.”

He flinched.

“I wish you wouldn’t.” He seemed to be gathering courage to continue. “But for me, that’s where it went wrong. I really shouldn’t have survived that. It was just – the fear. My visions about Padmé. I couldn’t let myself die. The Force never really listened to me so I made it listen and I didn’t really care what I threw into the fire as long as I kept it burning. But that’s what the Dark Side is all about. It’s selfish and you open doors you can’t close again. I can’t regret it – but I know it was wrong. No Jedi would have done what I did. I'm not supposed to be alive. Maybe that's why it feels so awful.”

He hadn’t told Sola this part. Perhaps at the time, he hadn’t yet been able to admit it to himself. It was certainly a lot to take in.

Or perhaps, she thought, this mentality was new. It was hard to tell with him. Some things flared up as sudden bounts of instability while others spent a long time simmering under the surface.

The revelation was met with silence. If Anakin had been expecting vocal reassurances, that might have been hurtful but he didn’t seem to mind too much. He was both too tired and too out of it to pay much attention to it.

“So the Chancellor was right about me,” he concluded with a sense of resignation. “That’s all there is to it. I knew I could open that holocron if I tried and I had to know what he’d say. I needed answers, or I'd never sleep well again.”

“That was stupid,” Master Kenobi seemed to say almost automatically. He appeared severely out of his depth; whatever he had expected to hear, it wasn't that. “And I hardly think that makes him right. Even if you used the Dark Side once, given the situation, I’d hardly call that doing it willingly. The business with the holocron is another matter – but still, you’re still yourself. You’re not suddenly Count Dooku or – Force forbid – Maul for it. Unless you have a new passion for kicking puppies and killing small children that I don’t know about?”

“Don’t tempt me. There was one at the Festival who screeched right into my ear. Who’s raising those creatures…”

This seemed to Sola like a lot of gall for a man whose children spent more time screaming than anything else. 

He startled, as if remembering something. His eyes flew open.

“The children. Are they–” Then he yelped. “Ow. What was that for?”

Master Kenobi looked at him sternly. He hadn’t lifted a finger, so she assumed it he must have done something through the Force.

“Let them be. They’re perfectly fine. You can’t keep doing this, you know.”

Anakin looked away, guilty.

“I know. It’s just – a habit. I have to make sure they’re still there.”

“They’re not going anywhere. And neither are you. Perhaps it’s not right but I really can’t care much how it happened that you’re alive. You are, that’s what matters. What are you going to do with your life now is another matter. Anakin, this can’t go on.”

He collapsed back into himself again. “I’m trying . I don’t want to be the thing that ruins it for them.” With the tips of his fingers, he traced the bandages around his neck – presumably, Master Kenobi had taken care of that. “I swear it. Their life will be nothing like my life.”

Master Kenobi’s face did a strange thing. He swallowed.

“I believe that. I know you’ll do well with them. But these children – they’ll learn from you. You have to treat yourself with kindness, too, not just them. It will get better, with time. You just have to persevere. Just promise me something.”

“You can keep any holocrons you find. I don’t want anything to do with that anymore,” Anakin said tersely, inspecting his hands with a blank stare.

“That… is gracious of you, but not what I was going to say.” Master Kenobi sounded serious. “I need you to promise me no more secrets.”

At first Sola thought Anakin would ignore the request. He held his tongue and his face was empty. She couldn’t say if he was thinking – or given up. Maybe a little bit of both. He’d certainly hit a dead end. Now it was his choice which way to go: up or down. 

This was the greatest challenge of it: the thing that Anakin had failed to overcome. She remembered wondering about it the first time she met him. Surviving – living – was only half solving things. Very few things were designed to be solved by human hands. Most of it was just learning how to walk until the pressure eased, finding strength in knowing that relief might not be immediate, might not be noticeable or sudden, but it would come. The only true answer to living was that some things could only be solved through patience, not strength or ingenuity. It was helplessness and it demanded leaps of faith, but it was life .

The grandfather clock on the wall ticked. In the dead of night, she got the impression that the house itself had stopped to hold its breath.

“Alright,” he agreed hoarsely. “I promise. No more secrets.”

Chapter Text

They burned the remains of the holocron the next day.

It was early in the morning. Despite how late she’d stayed up, Sola woke up with the sunrise, feeling far too restless to linger in bed. The twins were still asleep but by the time she’d made herself some kaff, they’d already blinked awake. She warmed up some formula for them and afterwards they, blessedly, remained calm. 

It hit her all at once how much they’d grown since the first time she saw them – and not only in size. Each day they seemed to have more control in their movements, kicking and gurgling and turning their heads to watch her across the room. Leia was even beginning to attempt to roll over. It’d still be a few months before she started to crawl but the signs were there. Sola had to admire her tenacity. 

There was much to admire in little children in general. Contrasted with the drama and the terrible complexities adult lives could have, it was refreshing to entertain how simple life could be when it did not extend beyond the walls of one house and the kind hands of a few select people. But even so, they had their challenges. Helplessness wasn’t an easy state to bear, Sola imagined. Let alone one easy to bear without being discouraged. 

Babies did not understand the concept of complacency, though. Sola had to wonder at which stage people started to learn that.

It was not long after that Master Kenobi approached her and asked permission to start a controlled bonfire in their yard. 

The dead shrubbery she’d cleared with Anakin a few weeks ago served as perfect kindling and he used the fuel from his borrowed speeder to make sure the flames would get hot enough to melt the metal. They had to clear a spot where the sun-scorched grass would not catch fire – this took some effort and planning but the morning air was fresh so the work was manageable. By the time when Master Kenobi finally used his lightsaber to light it all up, they’d attracted some company. 

It was just Ahsoka and Rex at first and then her mother showed up with lemonade and a look that said she was willing to wait to ask questions but that she would ask them. 

Sola couldn’t fault her too much. Even to her, this was a strange little ceremony. Almost like a funeral, though what exactly they were laying to rest was undefinable.

“I regret having to ask it,” Master Kenobi started, barely audible over the cracking of the firewood, “but I must ask regardless. Nobody can know about this.” He looked pointedly at Ahsoka and Rex.

Ahsoka’s face flared with indignation. 

“What? I wouldn’t–”

“I know. I know you’re loyal, Ahsoka. But this is against the regulations so the Council could call the two of you up to confirm my report and your Master has had enough trouble.”

She tilted her head, hurt melting into muted suspicion.

“What do you mean? Why would they feel the need to do that?”

Master Kenobi was silent. He faced the fire with blank stoicism; the flickering of the flames was a specter of life in his motionlessness. He seemed so calm now, but she doubted he got a wink of sleep the whole night. Yesterday, he’d ushered Anakin to bed fairly quickly but then he never came back so she figured that had been just an excuse. The two of them probably carried on a proper conversation in private, though whatever had been said clearly brought Master Kenobi little peace of mind.

“I’ve changed my mind about those holocrons.” He spoke carefully, testing each word in his mouth before he said it. “I’m not bringing them back to the Temple – I see now that they must be destroyed.”

“The Council isn’t going to like that. What happened to ‘ thousands of years of knowledge ’?” 

“I won’t ask you two to participate, of course. All I need you to do is make no mention of Sidious’ holocron if they–”

“–Master.” Ahsoka complained. “You’re dodging the question.”

He sighed heavily and rubbed his forehead.

“I suspect some knowledge is better off lost. That is all.”

She gave him a searching look.

“You spoke with Anakin, did you not? After you sent him off.”

“Ahsoka…”

“Well, did you?”

“Yes.” He admitted. “I’m not doing this without his permission. There is nothing more you need to know about it. But understand that if he, of all people, can agree…”

Sola did not understand much about the Force and the holocrons but her imagination could fill the blanks. She heard what he was not saying – and knew why he would not say it. Just like he had restrained himself from asking certain questions yesterday in front of everyone. It was an explanation she thought she was better off forgetting.

“Alright.” Ahsoka allowed, unhappy. She crossed her arms defensively. “I trust your judgment. I’ll help you get rid of them, then.”

That was all she said. 

“I can’t say I understand what you two are talking about, but you have my support too,” Rex spoke up. “I might not know much about the Sith but I remember Dooku and Ventress well enough. I don’t imagine they’d produce anything worth knowing about.”

“No,” Master Kenobi agreed mournfully, caressing his beard with one hand. “I don’t think so either. All the Sith have to offer is poison. I believe the Council will come to understand, in time.”

They didn’t speak further on the topic but Sola thought that was more for the lack of privacy than anything. She could see the tension in Ahsoka. She kept herself composed with rigid discipline so typical of the Jedi but the hands she had clasped behind her back betrayed her. Anakin’s nails had left deep half-moons on her left wrist during her attempt to pin him down – and this was impressive, on its own, as Togruta skin was tougher than human. Now, her fingers traced those scratches idly, over and over. Sola doubted she was even aware she was doing it.

Fuel aside, the fire took some time to burn out. On a summer day, the additional heat started pushing them further and further away as the sun rose – to say nothing of the smoke. The shrubbery was still wet enough to smoke heavily and during daytime, the wind always blew from the lake towards the villa. Once she realized that, her mother hurried to close all the windows but at that point the damage was already done.

“Everything is going to smell,” she complained. “If I’d known, I’d have told you to do it in the other garden.” She took the twins to the other side of the house, just in case. Sola doubted just the scent of smoke would do any damage to their lungs but her mother was unwilling to take that risk.

Then, it was tranquil, just the cracking of firewood and the buzzing of the little life in the greenery nearby. The flowers that closed during the night started to open up against the sunlight. 

“Ahsoka…” Master Kenobi started eventually, startling the girl. He hesitated and licked his lips. “Don’t – nevermind. Ignore me.”

Don’t worry, he might have wanted to say, Sola thought, or some other empty, placating phrase. She was surprised he’d noticed Ahsoka’s distress to begin with.

“If you’re going to tell me not to worry–” She gave him an unfriendly look. Sola found that to be curious. There was a strange distance between the two of them sometimes. Not entirely unlike what they both had with Anakin, but different – it lacked the warmth. 

“–I was going to say you shouldn’t dwell on what might have been, but I didn’t want to presume.” Master Kenobi cut back, a little bit impatient.

Ahsoka’s chin dropped, chastised. 

“I… It’s not that, really. I just… The whole time during the war, we always talked as if one day it’d end and everything would just… go back to normal. I questioned a lot of things but I guess I never stopped to question that one.”

Of course she didn’t question it . Her first encounter with adult problems must have been on the battlefield. Everything would have seemed conditional to that. And then, when the end of the war didn’t actually resolve anything… Well, she could see how that would be demoralizing, on top of everything.

“It will. Just give it time.” Master Kenobi rubbed his eyes tiredly. “Think of it this way, at least the Sith are gone now.”

“Regardless of what the Council might think, the Sith aren’t the only problem in the galaxy.”

“The Council ,” he stressed, “is well aware of that. There is nothing we can do regarding the rest of it.”

“If I may,” Sola cut in before they could devolve into bickering about whatever Jedi politics they were starting to get so heated about, “I didn’t exactly fight in the war so I can’t really understand how it was for you. But the propaganda was ubiquitous even in the civilian sector – you know, for the sake of keeping morale. It truly is challenging. The war had cost so much and the victory earned so little. But – well, for what it’s worth, I try to think of it in relation to the children.”

She had their attention now.

“I mean, even if the Republic is still at risk and the Senate remains corrupt, I like to think that the twins, at least, won’t need to know what it feels like to live in fear of invasion or terror attacks or – well, you know. Even this imperfect ending might make a real difference to some lives and I like to think that makes it worth it.”

Ahsoka’s grip relaxed a bit.

“That’s a nice way of looking at it,” she mused. “Good for Skycrawlers.”

“Skycrawlers,” Master Kenobi repeated, affronted. “They’re not even crawling yet, thank the Force. And when they do, I hope I’ll be far away, for the sake of the longevity of my clothes.”

“Please, Master. There’s nobody else around, you don’t need to pretend.” Ahsoka rolled her eyes; as far as Sola was concerned, that was a situation effectively diffused. Still, a shadow of something remained. Ahsoka’s eyes dropped down on the pyre and her posture stayed rigid. “...Do you think Anakin will be alright?”

The question was not a surprise. Sola imagined that the whole ordeal was a lot more impactful for Ahsoka – even if they’d parted ways, she’d been a child in war and Anakin had been her stability. 

Master Kenobi did not hesitate.

“Come on, Padawan. As I always said, Anakin has more lives than a Sullustan moon bat. Rest assured he will outlive us all.” He said this with good humour; like it didn’t faze him at all.

On this occasion, Sola could see the benefit of the unaffected persona the Jedi were so infamous for. Even if she did not buy his attitude for a moment, this response reassured Ahsoka more than any personal vulnerability would have. Perhaps that was the war’s fault too: in times of uncertainty, someone had to stay clear-headed. Someone would need to be an example, rather than a confidant. 

Master Kenobi, she was learning, was not particularly soft, although he was kind. He handled fragile things with the grace of someone who expected to drop them – like a poor man who’d been tasked with transporting precious jewelry. And his struggle was only made more difficult by the ornery nature of his charge; the line between love and duty could simultaneously be a blurred line and a great divide and there were no clear answers.

Still, he carried it out and he didn’t waver in his commitment.

He’d clearly set his mind on being helpful and that was what he was doing. Sola caught occasional glimpses of him looking after the twins or helping with daily chores while she was tending to her own business. At some point he asked to borrow a datapad so she lent him hers and the first and only thing he did was search up Anakin’s name on the HoloNet. 

He browsed with a deep frown but his findings seemed to satisfy him.

“Nothing about yesterday so far – that’s good.” He returned the datapad with a headshake.

Sola had not thought of this. She remembered briefly noting that Master Kenobi had handled the police but it had not occurred to her that the whole bar fight could end up in public. 

“How much trouble would it be if it got out?” Her mother asked, following her train of thought. She wiped her hands with her apron absentmindedly, leaving dusty white handprints. “Surely, if the law hadn’t gotten involved…”

“Not too much. He’s not on parole, he was acquitted, but…” The lines around his eyes were tight with stress. Sola had not noticed until she saw him across the table but now it was impossible to miss. “As far as I understand, per Republic law, that’s still a mark on his criminal record. I doubt anyone would think about reopening that case but it doesn’t hurt to stay on top of it.”

Certainly, Sola thought. But one would assume it’d be Anakin himself making an effort to stay on top of his own business. Master Kenobi might have excelled at feigning nonchalance but his actions were statements his words could not disguise.

There was real concern there; and under it, real affection. You did not fret that much over some other life unless your own was irrevocably tied up with it. But Sola had known that already.

〰 〰 〰 〰 〰

It seemed to be one of those unspoken natural laws that the movement of something tremendous left behind a lull in energy – a special kind of emptiness. Sola only needed to think of the tropical storms near Naboo’s equator; the wind itself was violent and the aftermath was frightfully quiet. That fever dream stillness of scattered trees and ruined villages, made lifelike only by the fresh scent of rain. 

Emotions, she imagined, were not so different. Where there was a rise, a fall would follow. 

It ought to have been no surprise, then, that she did not see much of Anakin. Though she was surprised he hadn’t resurfaced to check on the twins, she didn’t think too much of it. Whether it was because of fatigue, a wish for solitude or just plain embarrassment, it was his own private business if he wished to retreat. Even if they happened to currently cohabitate and live in the same household, Sola had no illusions regarding how much familiarity actually was between them – certainly not enough for him to truly be at ease in shared spaces.

It truly hadn’t worried her much. A desire for privacy, in her eyes, was not bad by itself. Sometimes people needed to sort their thoughts by themselves – and it wasn’t as if he had ever been all that social to begin with. 

Still, after dinner her mother had called her over. She had been intending to take some leftovers to Anakin, but Luke had thrown up over himself and Leia so she had to give them both emergency baths.

“You don’t need to wake him up if he’s sleeping, just knock and leave it there.” She let out a heavy sigh. “I’m getting too old for this. Padmé can’t come back soon enough.”

Guilt pooled in Sola’s stomach. She hadn’t even thought of her poor mother taking on the bulk of the babysitting duties.

“I’ll help you with them when I get back.” She laid a hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “And then you go and get some rest. Don’t even worry about the dishes, I’ve got it.”

It earned her a tired smile.

“You’re a dear. Now, go on.”

Sola was going to do just that and would have tried to get it over with as quickly as possible, if it weren’t for Master Kenobi’s intervention.

“Oh, are you taking this to Anakin?” He appeared to have walked into her path coincidentally but she wasn’t buying it; especially when he simply took this as the initiative to join her. 

“Ah – my mother told me to, since he missed dinner – and lunch… I’m not going to wake him up if he’s still catching up on sleep,” she added quickly, just in case he found an issue with that. 

“I wouldn’t worry about that, I’m fairly certain he’s awake. He just wasn’t feeling well in the morning,” Master Kenobi informed her, falling into step with her.

“Oh. Not anything serious?”

“I believe it was just a sore throat.”

That was not too surprising; given what his neck looked like, she would have been more surprised if he didn’t have a sore throat. It still made her stomach turn with unease when she thought about it. 

It was also not too surprising, given what the previous flare-ups of his condition looked like, that he rejected the meal she brought him.

“I’m sorry. I can’t.” With the lights turned off and the blinds drawn closed, she couldn’t see much more than the shape of him hunched against the headboard of his bed but his voice sounded terrible so Sola didn’t press it. The air had that stale smell of misery and illness to it and millenia old instincts told her not to linger in a place like that.

“That’s fine. I’ll just leave it on the night stand here then, alright?”

Master Kenobi, however, had a different outlook.

“It’s soup, surely you can have that.”

Then, when Anakin didn’t bless him with a response, he softened his approach. “At least take the water. You were sick yesterday, you need the liquids.”

Sola, who was about to place the tray and leave, paused.

“Do you want the water?” Carefully balancing the tray, she held up the glass his way like an offering.

He shook his head – or she assumed he did. She caught movement in the corner of her eye.

“It’s fine. Thank you.” 

“It’s not fine. Anakin, this is worse than it was in the morning.” Master Kenobi’s voice was sharp and even with the darkness, Sola could see Anakin roll his eyes. He scoffed, though it might have been just a cough.

“It gets worse before it gets better. I’ve seen doctors for it. There’s nothing to be done, just try to sleep it off. So it is fine, you can leave. I promise you I won’t expire.”

It was more of a demand than a suggestion; Sola got the distinct impression that for all of Anakin’s clinginess, this was the kind of vulnerability he was deeply uncomfortable with. Padmé had once said that he needed to feel useful – certainly, being stuck in bed would be unsettling enough that no amount of tender care could make up for it. 

Regardless if he understood that about his friend or not, Master Kenobi didn’t seem to care for it. He turned on the light without touching it and ignored Anakin hissing and covering his eyes. 

“ E chu ta! Turn it off!”

“Show me your mouth.” The mattress squeaked under his weight as he braced against it with one knee, leaning over her sister’s king size bed. He tried to grab Anakin’s chin only to get his hands slapped away.

“Keep your hands off. You put your fingers in my mouth and I’ll bite you.”

“ Stop that . You’re being difficult. I'm not going to hurt you, just show me.”

He managed, somehow, to wrestle Anakin into opening his mouth enough that he could take a look at his throat, if only for a few moments. Then, his jaws snapped shut and it was only his lightning quick reflexes that saved his fingers – at least, Sola supposed, Anakin stayed true to his words.

“Don’t do that. I’m not a bantha on the cattle market, you don’t get to just–” He seethed, backing off to the other side of the bed and out of reach. Once safe, curiosity got the better of him. For how fiercely he defended his boundaries, Sola noted he certainly didn’t stay mad for long. “Well? What’s the judgment?”

Master Kenobi was wiping his hand ruefully on his tunic. Sola could not begin to guess what he had hoped to achieve – it wasn't like Anakin had pharyngitis or an infection of any type. 

“...you need to brush your teeth more often, Padawan mine.” 

“ Seriously? Just get out.”

Master Kenobi was unmoved. The sudden brightness washed him out, leaving his expression utterly blank. His eyes, however, were a different story.

“...does this happen often?”

Oh, Sola realized.

Anakin flinched like he’d tasted something bitter. With a flicker of his hand, he turned off the light. The darkness was cast on them so abruptly that Sola was left blinking in a futile attempt to see anything. She felt around blindly and almost knocked over a lamp.

“It was my own fault this time. I had surgery not too long ago so everything is still a bit… It should get better with time but it still gets irritated easily. So, you know, yesterday – throwing up, getting strangled…” His explanation was as awkward as it was curt, as if he didn’t know how to say it and wanted to avoid the topic at all costs. “It’s on me. I forget that I can't… that I have to be careful. Don’t worry about it.”

‘Don’t ask me about it’, might have been more in line with his demeanour, Sola thought. It was clearly something he’d hardly cared to grapple with in the privacy of his own mind, let alone sharing it with others.

Ultimately, what he couldn’t say outright was that it was a condition. Padmé had described it as chronic pain before. Knowing her sister, that was her trying to put it as mildly as possible – but even then Sola had understood what she had meant when she said it was an adjustment. These things did not have firm rules. Sometimes, it could be completely innocuous things triggering an episode and sometimes it could be nothing at all but either way, all at once he had to reorganize his life around avoiding pain or minimizing it. It required consistent attentiveness to the body and its needs.

She didn’t think Anakin had put much effort in that, lately. That was the Jedi in him – where other people had firm limits, he could make do. Of course it would catch up to him. Everything he'd put off or neglected had caught up to him.

At least this time, she got the impression that he was trying to take it seriously. She could spot the change even in this brief interaction. Something must have settled; that aimless energy had dissipated and that alone had eliminated a great deal of his despair. What had finally surfaced now was sad and stunted and uncertain, but it was honest.

“I see. You should try to be less reckless in the future.” Master Kenobi sounded clipped and Sola immediately winced. 

Surprisingly, Anakin did not take offense. He rested his chin on his knees pensively.

“It’s not your fault, you know. It just happened, that’s all.” He spoke up, turning his head to look Master Kenobi in the eyes with perceptiveness that took her off-guard. “I really don’t want your pity or your guilt.”

“...You did say it yourself. I sent you there. It’s not pity to say that I hold a degree of responsibility.”

“I didn’t mean that. I was just… saying things. A–and besides, even if you did send me, so what? I’ve had worse missions. I could have said no. You don’t need to grieve me, it’s insulting. I’m not dead.” He tried his best to appear earnest and passionate but it was hard when everything came out in a tired whisper – his voice was giving out on him. Still, she was sure Master Kenobi noticed the effort.

She was less sure that it did anything to assuage his guilt. When he reached for the door and the hallway light spilled over him, it plainly showed the bitter tightness of his smile. He shook his head fondly.

“Get some rest, Anakin. We can talk about it some other time.”

“Wait, hold on.” Anakin gestured furiously, sitting up straighter. The shadows pooled under his brows when he frowned. “The kids – how are they?”

“They’re getting a bath right now,” Sola told him and gently pushed him back against the pillows. She made her way around the bed cautiously, mindful of the step before the door – the amount of times she’d seen her sister trip over it had taught her this lesson. “They’re fine.”

“Oh. Good.” He blinked and then turned to Master Kenobi in the doorway. “You’ll look after them, right? Just for a bit? Luke likes it when you talk to him and Leia needs to be walked before she goes to sleep or she wakes up and–”

“–I’ll remember that.” Master Kenobi cut in, eyebrows going up. “Or you can write up a manual and send it to my comm – no, don’t actually do that, I’m joking.”

Personally, Sola found this to be a rather sweet request, all things considered. Anakin struggled to let anyone handle the twins – but she thought that perhaps he recognized that in this instance, it was a needed show of trust. Or perhaps she was giving him too much credit and he simply wanted to make sure Master Kenobi stayed out of his hair, even if it meant temporarily sacrificing his children to his tender affections.

Regardless, he appeared pleased.

"...good." He smothered a yawn. Evidently, the conversation had tired him out. Having seen it to its conclusion, strength seemed to have left him. Although he lowered himself back on the pillows gingerly, there was not much grace in it. As if ashamed of that, he turned over to the side and away from the two of them.

Master Kenobi waited in the doorway for long enough that Sola thought he was going to speak up again. But he did not. Even with her limited understanding, she thought that was probably for the best.

It was a delicate business, knowing when to talk and when to make peace with weariness and let things rest. She couldn’t claim to have mastered it in her years; she certainly couldn’t claim to know how she’d act dealing with matters so heavy.

For Master Kenobi, she supposed, conceding helplessness was not an answer he could accept. From the way he acted, he must have discovered that about himself semi-recently in an exceptionally painful manner. She wondered sometimes what his life had been like if the near-loss of one person could scar him so badly. If she had to guess, his duties were many and his joys were few – not the happiest of existences but made livable by those few precious things. Or people.

In any case, he did not leave Anakin alone.

When Sola came to bring him some food the next afternoon – and take away the untouched tray she’d left before – Master Kenobi had been sat on the edge of the bed, loudly reading what appeared to be a report on the yearly expenses of the Jedi Order. She was certain Anakin just loved that; he’d curled up far away on the other side of the mattress. But she was also certain that if he truly found it so intolerable, he’d have found a way to kick him out, pain or no pain. 

As it was, she wondered if he even noticed he had company. There was a sharp, slightly herbal scent in the room that told her a hypospray had been used recently and when Master Kenobi helped him sit upright, his eyes could not seem to focus on anything. They slid from Sola’s face to the tray in her hands without much interest or recognition; he only truly seemed to become aware of her presence when she tried to coax him to try the soup.

‘Loopy’ , Padmé had called it and if that wasn’t the mother of all understatements. Whatever drugs he had been prescribed, they were strong .

He remained aware enough to shake his head at the food but with water he seemed to lose focus. The high-pitched wheezing of his breathing changed tempo and when he licked his chapped lips, she knew that he wanted it – he just wasn’t sure if he could.

“Just try.” Master Kenobi held the glass to him, steady and patient.

Tentatively, Anakin did try. And then promptly started choking.

“Alright.” Sola snatched the glass back. “Let’s not waterboard my sister’s husband in my sister’s bed.”

There was nothing to be done about it. She wondered how Padmé had handled this by herself, so soon after giving birth. She didn’t envy her one bit.

Lately, she wondered about that often. There had been that horrible realization. It had crept in so slowly, Sola couldn’t tell when it first appeared but now it loomed undeniable. A ruler, the old proverbs said, could only be as powerful as his strong right hand. If there was to be an Empire, then that was who a cruel trick of fate had led her sister to marry – who would have thought?

Only there was no Empire. There would never be an Empire, if Shiraya smiled upon them. And Palpatine’s strong right hand was a frightened young man.

She didn’t think she could ever commit herself to someone like that, even if she liked Anakin just fine as a brother-in-law. But when he tried to smile at her joke through his coughing, she could simultaneously understand how Padmé could come to love him so much in spite of everything he brought with him. That horrible could-have-been that loomed over him seemed almost irrelevant.

People were so terribly complex; it was easy to forget that caring for another was so simple in comparison. Simpler by far than putting it into words.

Master Kenobi sighed; with one arm still keeping Anakin upright, he brushed away the sweaty locks sticking to his forehead and checked his temperature. This was, as Sola understood, a mostly useless compulsion since Anakin was not actually sick. It was just a comfort thing, from the lack of anything else to do – or maybe in his own stumbling way he was trying to offer comfort instead, understanding that the only reassurance he could offer his friend was his presence.

“Just leave it here,” he said. “I’ll try again when the drugs wear off.”

〰 〰 〰 〰 〰

In the meantime, Sola tried her best to take on the bulk of her mother’s activities.

Mainly, it was the twins. Ahsoka and Rex were willing to help out, but neither of them was very experienced in this area; entertaining them and keeping an eye on them was one thing, but feeding, changing and bathing were quite another. It had to be either her or her mother.

It was draining, in the long run. Her niece and nephew, while dearly beloved, were not exactly calm children most of the time. She had no way of telling how much of that was their father’s influence and how much of it was truly just colics. Either way, it amounted to the same course of action – only time, she suspected, would help there. 

Ryoo and Pooja needed her attention as well. They were slowly inching towards that part of the summer vacation when they started running out of things to do, which then manifested in chaos.

Pooja had found a recipe for cupcakes that she really wanted to try; Sola had promised her they’d do it together one of these days but it appeared her daughter did not have the patience to wait that long. At least the mess she had made ended in cupcakes. Scrubbing the flour and spilled batter off the cupboards, Sola found herself appreciating the silver linings.

They’d also asked after Anakin one morning, two days after they came back from the Festival.

“He didn’t get hurt when he was fighting, did he?” Ryoo looked utterly serious and it took Sola a moment to realize that the two of them had not seen him since the bar fight. Of course it’d look that way to them.

“No, no, he’s fine. He’s just sick.”

“But it’s summer,” Pooja looked like she didn’t quite believe her. To her mind, illnesses were exclusively a seasonal pest.

“He gets sick a lot,” her sister added dubiously.

Sola thought about how to put this while bending over the laundry basket. She ran the damp fabric between her fingers then pinned it to the clothesline above. How to put this?

“He was in a bad fight when he was still a Jedi and someone hurt him really bad. It was not easy for the Jedi during the war. A lot of them died.”

And many of those who did, did not leave the battlefield the same people they were when they entered but there was no need for her daughters to think about that. They deserved to believe in easy solutions and wars that actually end.

“I know. He fought with the Chancellor.” Noticing her frown, Ryoo elaborated. “Auntie explained when they first came to Naboo. She said we shouldn’t ask him stuff about that, or about the war or the Jedi even, because it makes him sad.”

That would certainly explain why they interrogated Ahsoka and Master Kenobi more than they ever bothered Anakin. Sola supposed she should be glad Padmé had the foresight to take care of that. Still…

“Mhmm, I see. And did you actually listen?”

“We did!” Pooja complained with the kind of offense that might have convinced Sola if she didn’t already know otherwise. She had been there when Pooja had asked, point blank, what happened to his arm and if it had hurt. Children had their charms but tact was not one of them. 

Still, it was an early reminder that the rest of the household had their own perceptions and not everyone was as inclined to mind their business.

Padmé, for one, was not.

Sola had forgotten about her sister a little bit, busy as she’d been. She’d intended to watch her speech after they returned from the Festival but given everything, it had slipped her mind. It seemed that the walls of her house held enough worries, without her thinking about those outside them as well.

Padmé, apparently, had not forgotten about them. Sola was approached that afternoon by her mother who casually informed her that her sister would like to speak. This, as it turned out, was because Padmé had been unable to contact her husband and had instead commed her mother in mild panic – and her mother, who suddenly had a lot of time to spare, had no qualms in telling her everything.

She’d known immediately where Padmé’s problem would be.

The hologram tinted her form blue but it did not hide that unhappy, troubled look. Sola would know it anywhere – the way her eyes tightened and her jaws squared were clear signs.

“Your speech went well, I assume.” Sola did not bother with a greeting. This was still her sister. Certain formalities just weren’t necessarily.

“Splendidly.” Padmé’s tone was dry and cautious. She waited for a bit. “I spoke to Mom. I… wish you’d told me. I understand why you didn’t and I’m sure Anakin appreciates your discretion but I can’t help wishing that you’d come to me with it when you became aware that it concerned me.”

It had to be the last part that bothered her the most; Sola knew Padmé’s philosophy on involving herself with her husband’s problems by now. She pointedly waited for him to approach her each time, never forceful in her ministrations and never resentful of having to sweep up his broken glass.

But understanding that she would have been used as a leash to lead him into things he could never take back – that was quite different. Love suddenly wasn’t just love, when seen in this light.

“He’d tell you on his own eventually.” Or so Sola assumed. Anakin’s moods were so changeable; she got the impression that even the insecurity came and went in waves.

Padmé’s eyes narrowed. It was hard to say if she agreed with this statement or not.

“Dad and I are heading back tomorrow morning,” she said instead, apparently done with the topic. “Auntie Demé sends her regards. And her shuura pie recipe. She also says that you haven’t visited in some time and that she’d like to see the girls so you better get on with that.”

Sola rolled her eyes.

“Last I visited, she had her friend over. You know, the special one. They kept talking about wedding venues and asking me what I thought.”

“They’re still at it? They’ve been talking about wedding venues for over a decade at this point.” Padmé’s eyebrows rose with amusement.

“Old ladies and their elaborate mating rituals. Can’t say I understand, but you get the idea.” Sola waited a beat. She got the feeling that given the chance, Padmé would have more to say. But some things were like that; if you were to start speaking about them, it would all spill out. The words that were fair and the ones that weren’t. It was better, sometimes, to wait.

“I do know a thing or two about that.” There was a sigh. Her sister ran her hands down her sides. “Anyhow, I wanted to thank you and Mom. I understand that all of this – Sith Lords and holocrons all that – has to be a lot for you and I’m sorry you got swept up with it.”

Sola felt herself smile.

“It’s alright. That’s what family is for. I don’t mind learning more about your life, even when it’s not so simple.”

〰 〰 〰 〰 〰

Padmé and their father were set to arrive from Theed by shuttlebus, so the following morning, Sola took the speeder and flew to the station to pick them up. Ryoo had asked to tag along, eager to see her aunt and grandfather again – and probably bored out of her mind at the villa. Her daughter had a rather unique music taste, but just this once, the broken radio had spared Sola from that so they passed for a pleasant flight.

They waited, impatiently, for the shuttlebus to arrive. Once it did, Ryoo shot to her feet and ran to the door, jumping into her grandfather’s arms the moment he descended down the stairs.

“Little monkey-lizard!” He laughed, lifting her up against his side. “Wait, wait, I have to get the luggage. I have something for you.”

Clearly they went shopping; Sola didn’t remember them having that much stuff when they departed. Padmé heaved several bags until Sola rushed to help.

“Thanks,” she breathed, wiping her forehead. “I may have gone a bit overboard. I hope your trunk has space.”

“Yeah, I hope so too. What did you buy, the entire store?”

“Auntie asked her friends for some baby stuff. They were… generous.”

“Oh, dear.”

“As they say, generosity is a virtue until it is a vice.” Their father commented, walking over to help. His eyes fell on the healing bruise on Sola’s cheek and he thumbed it gently. “I heard you were quite fierce. Helping out a Jedi Knight in a bar fight.”

Sola took this occasion to sneak a hug.

“What can I say? I didn’t think I had it in me either.”

Her father hummed.

“Well, I am glad nobody got hurt. There’s an adventure to tell your aunties about next time you see them.”

Aware of Padmé’s eyes on her, Sola laughed it off.

“It wasn’t much of an adventure, truly. Although Master Kenobi informed me that we both got a lifetime ban from that place.”

“A ban?” Padmé questioned. “What for? You weren’t the ones causing trouble.”

“Well, I wasn’t but I feel like I got grouped in by association. From what I’ve heard, the owner said that he appreciated the help but that he’d much prefer we don’t help ever again.”

“Ungrateful.”

Sola felt tempted to point out that her husband had tried to kill a man on those premises – though she couldn’t be certain that that had truly been Anakin’s intention – but she thought better of it. Somehow she got the impression it wouldn’t have made much of a difference to Padmé.

“It was so scary! Everyone was being really loud and–” Ryoo joined in with her description of the event and Sola let her fill the air with chatter.

Eventually, when they were all inside the speeder and the conversation died down, she asked: “So, what were the two of you up to in Theed?”

“Oh, well, I caught up with my old staff. I don’t know if you’ve heard but Saché – my old handmaiden – was selected for the new Senator.”

“So I’ve heard. I assume you approve.”

Saché or Sashah Adova as was her birth name, had been pursuing an individual career in the Legislative Assembly for a while now. It was no surprise she’d gotten far. From what she recalled from the occasions when she’d met Padmé’s friends, Saché had always been the sharpest and the most outspoken of the bunch.

She’d also seen her acceptance speech in multiple HoloNet articles. She hadn’t had the time to sit down and read properly but there was a line of hers they used over and over which had burned into her memory. ‘ Today, we can afford to dream ,’ the new Senator had said. ‘ Tomorrow is a new day. ’

“Of course I approve. I’ll sleep easier for it, actually. Saché deserves this and I know she’ll do a good job. She wanted me to stay one more day so we could go to dinner and celebrate her win, but I told her I had to go back.”

“Some other day, then,” their father suggested lightly. “You’ll be living in Theed, you’ll have plenty of opportunities to meet up whenever she visits.”

“That is true,” Padmé sighed, rolling her shoulders and leaning back in her seat. “It’s convenient. Anyway, I met up with the others as well. Eirtaé has been studying in Otoh Gunga but she came back to Theed for Saché’s election and we met up at Theed University. And then one of my old professors spotted me in the halls and – long story short, I got a job offer.”

“At the University?” Sola whistled softly. “As, what, an assistant? A professor?”

“An associate professor, yes. They have a position open in the Department of Political Sciences and he spoke with the dean for my sake. He’s also invited me to be a partner in his research. He wants to take an in-depth look into the past two decades of Republic politics and analyse the trends. And the University is partnered with several humanitarian organisations looking for volunteers.”

“I see.” That did sound like something her sister might find interest in; and it was fine, stable work. “I take it you’re interested then?”

Padmé crossed her hands in her lap. Her eyes had that sheen to it. Sola recognized it well – it was ambition. The soft planes of her face were changed by it.

“For now,” she said, perfectly even-toned, like she’d already hammered every last detail of the plan down in stone. It was hard to say how she felt about it, except satisfied that she had a plan. “It’ll do while the children are so young. And I like the idea of that project – I think it’ll help me get my own thoughts in order and it might have some use for my friends still in the Senate. But after the twins get a little bit older, I think I’ll go for something more exciting. I have a feeling that if I stay in the right circles, the opportunity will present itself.”

〰 〰 〰 〰 〰

Their return to the lake house was a rush of reunions. Their mother had waited outside with Pooja, Threepio and the twins. Once Padmé had the chance to smother her children with delighted kisses, she visibly relaxed. Their guests had courteously chosen to wait inside and let them have their moment as a family; but once that was done with, it was their turn.

Her sister greeted them with a warm smile – and in Ahsoka’s case, a tight embrace – but her eyes glanced around the room in search of some other missing presence. 

“Lady Amidala,” Master Kenobi inclined his head politely. “I hope your travels were pleasant. If you’re looking for Anakin, he’s upstairs. I told him that if he fell down the stairs and broke his neck, that’d be embarrassing for everyone involved and it seems that for once he elected to listen.”

Now that she understood these dynamics a bit better, Sola thought his deflections must be a great source of entertainment for Padmé. He certainly laid it on thick sometimes; so thick, in fact, that she got the impression that even he himself found it to be a great, running joke. 

Her sister regarded him kindly, making no mentions of how worn-out he appeared.

“I see. I suppose I should thank you for that then. I’ve heard you’ve been looking after him.” 

“I don’t think that amounted to much, really. Most of the effort was his own.”

This was true, Sola supposed, but simultaneously it was not. Padmé seemed to agree.

“I feel like you’re underestimating how much a difference just your presence can make.” She shook her head. “Nobody is expecting you to solve his problems for him. Sometimes, the greatest thing you can do for a friend is to simply listen to them. I’m glad you two worked things out.”

Master Kenobi seemed a bit stumped with that. He cleared his throat, then ran a hand through his hair. 

“Well… If you say so.” He muttered. “Regardless, I think he’s been feeling a bit better today. He’ll be glad to see you.” There was a tone of magnanimousness in his voice; like he didn’t quite approve but understood he should not say anything about it.

It was impossible to say what Padmé got from that, except some kind of private, mutual understanding. She smiled.

“I won’t keep him waiting then.”

〰 〰 〰 〰 〰

She took her sweet time with that reunion but then again, Sola imagined there was more catching up to do than with anyone else. The final stretches of the war had been a complex mess of influences, politics and blurred lines, interlocking the fates of many people – but as far as the matters relating to her family were concerned, in the end it had been Padmé, Anakin and Palpatine. Every other connection had been, from her understanding, almost surgically removed from the conflict, presumably by Palpatine’s own design. But now he was dead and what remained fell to the two people alone. 

This, at least, was how she explained it to herself. Even if it weighed on her, Padmé would not consider discussing it with anyone else.

Though perhaps she had not been discussing anything – Sola noticed when she returned downstairs that her lipstick was slightly smudged in the corner. She was not about to even begin to start questioning that.

Her mother made some tea and cut up some shuura fruit. The discussion they had was relatively normal. They talked about Theed and aunties and Padmé’s friends; she mentioned the two houses she’d checked out. Then they in turn told her about the life at Varykino, the Festival and whatever else fell into this timeframe.

It was hardly the most exciting evening but it felt like something clicked for Sola, some final pieces of the puzzle. 

There were things she couldn’t fully understand. Even with all she’d been privy to, it felt like she was perceiving the barest fringes of experiences, feelings and concerns so far removed from her own. Things like Senate proceedings, Sith Lords and military matters were foreign to her. Understanding them was like understanding fiction – dependent entirely on the perspectives given to her.

But not for Padmé. She seemed so much more at ease discussing that, rather than simple, mundane matters. It was such a little thing to observe but suddenly she could see much more clearly. This precious lesson had been about moderation and self-respect; not rejection of everything she’d stood for before. Even Padmé’s choice in a partner seemed logical with that in mind. It had never been about settling down at all. She’d picked someone who’d keep her exciting life manageable, without ever making it calmer or easier .

Without even intending to, Sola had been looking at it all too much from within the comforts of her own perspective. She didn’t really know what to do with that. Nothing, she supposed. It truly was all Padmé’s to navigate. 

Her one and treasured life.

〰 〰 〰 〰 〰

The next morning rose bright and clear. By midday, it had turned sweltering hot but still somehow freeing. Sola almost had the feeling that she’d stumbled upon a second vacation within the vacation.

It was all the hedonism of summer, in its later stretches. Late breakfasts, cool drinks and every window swung wide open, to let in the slightly salty air blowing from the lake.

She felt suddenly ambitious. Maybe she’d finally read that book she’d been saving or start that painting she’d thought of… When had it been? Almost a year ago? She didn’t know why that made her giddy. Perhaps it was truly just the joy of concluding something and feeling like your life was suddenly full of empty space. And empty space was potential; every human being was at any given time at least somewhat occupied with all they could be.

Of course, this was when Padmé found her on the way back from the kitchen, still chewing her snacks.

“Oh, Sola, great. Mind helping me with something?”

Sola swallowed. So much for peace and quiet , she thought but she honestly wasn’t too upset. There would be time for those things later on anyway. Or maybe she’d make time.

“Sure, what is it?”

“I appear to have misplaced my husband,” Padmé said, with complete seriousness. “He probably just went for some fresh air. I sent Ahsoka down to the lake to check if he’s at one of his usual spots.”

“Is he not allowed to walk around now?”

“Funny, that’s what he said too.” She scoffed. “I suppose I just don’t like not knowing where he is. He’s a lot better but still kind of shaky and I don’t really trust him not to overestimate himself.”

She couldn’t exactly begrudge her that concern. Anakin was a little bit like that. Still, she had a relatively strong opinion that Padmé could do this on her own.

“Alright, I’ll help you look.”

“Ah, it’s not just that. If it turns out he needs some help with the stairs, I might not be able to help by myself and I’d rather not embarrass him. It’d be more natural if there was two of us to begin with…”

“You’re overthinking it,” Sola told her. “I really don’t think it’s that deep.”

“Maybe not, but it’ll be easier that way.” She seemed pretty set on it; and Sola had learned that if there was one thing Padmé was hellbent on, it was helping Anakin out of uncomfortable situations. Perhaps she helped him too much sometimes. 

Still, she was not coldhearted enough to refuse to make something easier for someone just because it was perhaps not strictly necessary. 

They truly did not have to look long. Anakin had only gone as far as the southern balcony on the first floor to sit cross-legged in the sun. Down on the grass beneath, Ryoo and Pooja were playing ‘Who’s scared of the Shadow Man?’ and though his eyes were closed, she had the impression that he was watching them.

Padmé considered the scene with a cocked head then sat down next to him.

“Isn’t it a bit hot for sunbathing?” She asked, not all that serious. 

He hummed lazily, not bothering to open his eyes. 

“Nah. It’s nice.”

In the garden Pooja shrieked when Ryoo nearly caught up to her. In a last-ditch effort, she zigzagged, jumping off the grass and over their grandmother’s new bushes. Ryoo had to hike up her skirt to follow suit and Sola could hear her shouting how that was a foul. If she knew her girls, there was an argument coming soon.

“And in a white skirt too,” she muttered. “Who’s going to wash that? I should tell them to cut it out.”

“I think that ship has left the spaceport already. One of them tripped and ate dirty pretty impressively earlier,” Anakin informed her, with the amusement of someone who had probably never had to get a stain off white fabric in his life. Perhaps by design. One day Sola would interrogate him about why he liked black so much.

“Oh, that’s just great.”

“Is that what you came out here for? Pondering about children playing?” Padmé shielded her eyes from the sun. “Nice time of the day for that.”

“Force, you make me sound old. I don’t think you can start pondering until you’re Obi-Wan’s age at least. I reflect .”

“Ah, yes, of course. How silly of me. What are you reflecting on, then?”

He shrugged. His laziness wasn’t just fatigue, Sola realised, although that was a great part of it – it was a muted sort of sadness, like when you’ve fully resigned to something fundamentally unchanging. 

“Just thinking. Luke and Leia will play like this one day.”

“Not for a few years, at least but yes, that’s what children do.”

Anakin hummed, leaning against his knees. There was a thought on his face; but one he didn't quite seem to know how to express.

“Back on Tatooine, we had a whole system. The losers got a penalty, in some way, and it was fun to get creative with it. To be honest, I have no idea what we did that for. There was no need for it.”

Padmé entwined their fingers. Her teasing tone lowered into something gentler, more sympathetic.

“That was just what you knew. You learn how the world works from observing. It doesn’t say anything about you.”

“It wasn’t everyone, though. My mother was never like that. I don’t think I ever respected that enough – her unlivable life and she still didn’t let it change who she was.” He brought their hands to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. Padmé looked at him, waiting.

“Obi-Wan told me I’m ashamed,” he said eventually, as if it was some great puzzling thing. Their last proper conversation must have been three days ago, going on four – she wondered how many times he’d turned it around in his head since.

“Well? What do you think?”

“I think he has no business saying that.” There was that petulance; it seemed to Sola that Anakin didn’t know how to do without it, even if he wasn’t being all that serious. “It’s not me , it’s other people. That’s not shame, that’s… I don’t know, actually. It’s not the same, though.”

But that was exactly what shame was – that feeling, bone-deep and defying any rationalisation, telling you that the whole world had judged you and found you lacking. Would find you lacking and not quite fit to walk with the rest of them, if you allowed them to see that there was something inside you, that if not explicitly ugly, was at least deeply pathetic. A person, truly alone, would have no reason to feel it. 

Sola didn’t say that out loud though, because shame was also fear. Both fear of being lesser and the fear of what that would mean for you – and those had been lessons Anakin had learned more harshly than most. 

One step at a time, she supposed.

“I think you’re being too harsh on yourself.” Padmé took a firmer tone now. “Nobody thinks that what Palpatine had planned for you reflects on you in any way. It wasn't your fault.”

“It’s not just that. You know it’s not just that.” He yanked his hand out of her hold irritably. 

“Still. Nobody thinks that. Not me, not Obi-Wan or Ahsoka and not the Jedi Council. And even if,” she licked her lips, “even if he might have known your faults and known them well, if he planned around them – you’re not ruined forever because of it. You have a good heart, Ani, I’ve seen it. Whatever else it is you might have, you can change. It’s never too late for that.”

Anakin looked at her dubiously at first; then as she went on, it slowly merged with something wide-eyed and tender.

“You know, when I was little and living with my mother, we used to sit outside like this,” he started, hesitant as if recounting a dream. “She’d teach me the names of the stars. She had a story for each one of them. It always felt like there was too much life in the galaxy for me to stay stuck down there forever. But I used to look up there and wish that I was anyone else. Anywhere else.”

“And then I did get away and everyone was so… different. Even when I left, I didn’t really. I think certain things, once you’ve lived them, they stay with you forever. So I tried to be someone else, just because it was easier. But how do you unmake a person? Every time I tried it, I feel like I ended up being someone… worse . Like the things I was cutting away were all the wrong ones. I suppose the point is, change never really worked out for me.”

Padmé shook her head, stubborn. “That’s not what I believe. I can never understand how you can give up so easily.”

“I’m not giving up, I’m just being realistic.”

Her sister's lips pressed into a stubborn line and her eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

“You say you’re not giving up but for a person so determined to cling to life you certainly weren’t very helpful with your own trial – until after the children were born. Don’t lie to me, Anakin, I like to think I know you well enough to know what was going on in that head of yours. Did you really think I’d want that? Or how I'd feel about it?”

He couldn’t give her an answer; but the way he stared forlornly at the hands in his lap was an answer enough.

“Sometimes, I truly worry that I’m bad for you.” Padmé said suddenly, cutting into his silence.

His head shot up with a frantic look.

“What? No, that’s not true. You’re not. You can’t say that.”

“Calm down. I’m not saying I’m leaving you. That’s the last thing I’d do. But you have to understand how I feel. I wonder sometimes if I’d be able to help you more if I loved you less.”

What a contradiction, Sola thought and she considered just walking away and letting the two of them talk this out by themselves.

Who could really judge what the nature of that unrestrained affection was? It might have doomed him, in a different world. It had saved his life, in this one. The human mind always looked for a clear lesson, some kind of code for how to behave and how to not. In reality, the lines were far too blurred to even draw a clear connection between human feelings and human actions. 

But Padmé was not trying to navigate those complexities. Sola thought her own feelings on the matter were just as muddled and overzealous as Anakin’s, in her own way – but the way she acted on them was different. He loved the only way he seemed to know how to: leaving his life and self entirely at the feet of the person he was devoted to. Even without anybody taking advantage of it, how unsettling would it be to be adored like that?

“I can’t stand the way you all talk about help – I can handle myself.” He grumbled.

“I know you can. That’s just it, though. You’re resourceful, you’re clever and you’re educated – nobody could ever call you incompetent. By all means, you should be fine, that should be enough. But you have that something hanging over you that’s eating at your life and it feels like even though you could be anything, so few things actually make you happy. Everything else just... exists, to you. You probably know better than anyone what it is and where it came from.” Padmé went for his hand again, as if beseeching him to take her seriously.

And he did. It was either the words themselves or the earnestness with which she spoke to him, but his indignation returned back to that worn-out melancholy he’d started out with.

“Yeah,” he said. “...I know. I had time to think about it. I… I think that I’d like to go back to Tatooine, eventually. Maybe some of the people I used to know are still around there and someone’s got to help them. And even if not, most of them had family they were separated from at some point. Even organisations that deal with slavery can’t afford to go looking for specific people. For most families, once you’re split up, that’s it. You’ll never see them again.”

If Padmé was surprised, she didn’t show it. She inclined her head to show she was listening.

“Well, you certainly have the money and the skills. I did look up a few reputable humanitarian organisations while in Theed but if this is what you want to do… I think it’s a sweet idea.”

“There’s also… the other thing. You remember, when my mother died and I…” He trailed off and she gave his hand an encouraging squeeze. “I wanted to tell Obi-Wan about it the other day. I almost did because I promised him I was done with secrets. But it felt like an easy way out – just someone telling me what to do about it. I’d like to go back there and understand , before I can even start making amends.”

This was a detail Sola was evidently still missing, though she had the strongest feeling that she truly did not want to know about it. But the missing piece aside, she could see the overall theme in this conversation – the past.

“That sounds like a plan. Though…” Padmé pursed her lips. “While I was at the University, I spoke with the staff there. Apparently they’re planning a couple expeditions to the Unknown Regions in the next few years, in a partner project with a few other Institutes. They’ll be looking for a pilot.”

“Oh?” Anakin put up a show of thinking about it. “Well, they’ll need someone who knows what they’re doing. The Unknown Regions are dangerous to navigate.”

“Mhmm, I thought the same thing. I recall knowing someone who really wanted to be a pilot. Thoughts?”

He bit his lip to keep from smiling. This was quite clever of Padmé, Sola thought. If getting his closure on his home planet was something he needed to do, it was just as well that he had some prospects he wanted to do as well, to keep him steady. 

“Why not? I always hoped I’d have a reason to go there anyway.”

“Yes, you’ve only said it about a thousand times.”

They sat in a pleasant silence for a bit. Sola had noticed that Ryoo and Pooja had stopped playing. They’d either grown bored or overheated, she supposed.

She truly entertained just leaving. Padmé clearly wasn’t going to utilise her help anytime soon; she seemed pretty content pulling Anakin down until he rested with his head in her lap and she could trace the lines of his face like she was trying to commit them to memory. At this point, Sola had to wonder if they even remembered she was there.

Then, something in the shrubbery below cracked and the next thing she knew, Ahsoka had flipped onto the balcony railing with impeccable balance.

“There you are!”

“Ahsoka,” Anakin squinted up at her, looking mildly annoyed. “You’re standing in my sunshine.”

“Is that all you have to say, you lizard? I looked all around the lake for you!”

He made a face.

“I don’t know why you thought I’d be there. And why am I a lizard now?”

Ahsoka swung off the railing, landing on tiptoes. 

“You sunbathe like one. And the bugs–”

“–Alright, I get it. You can stop. If I start regrowing limbs, I promise you’ll be the first to know.”

“What bugs?” Padmé prodded. “I feel like you’re being oddly shifty.”

“Not at all.” Anakin insisted at the same time as Ahsoka said: “Sorry, inside joke. Forget about it.”

Padmé cocked her head.

“Well, then. Sorry for wasting your time, Ahsoka.”

“It’s fine. It was a nice walk at least.” She sighed, brushing off her shirt. “I figured I’d sense a disturbance in the Force if Skyguy fell in and drowned or something.”

“I can swim. But thanks for the concern.”

“Anytime.” There was a cautious look on her face and she clasped her hands behind her back. “How… are you doing?”

Anakin had the gall to roll his eyes.

“Fine. You should see the other guy.”

“That wasn’t even funny the first time you said it.”

Well, Sola thought, at least now she could leave with a clear conscience. And if Padmé and Anakin got their moment ruined by a fussy teenager, that only serves them right.

〰 〰 〰 〰 〰

Things unveiled quickly from there on out. As it turned out, Anakin had not actually developed a sudden need for sunlight like a poor neglected houseplant as much as he remembered that a week had passed since the visit from the Palpatine family lawyer. He’d willfully neglected to mention that fact until the man had shown up at the doorstep.

Then once the papers were signed and he got the keycard, there was no point in their guests lingering. 

Ryoo and Pooja were quite upset about Ahsoka leaving. Perhaps this was why Padmé had pulled her aside and said loudly enough: “You know, Ani and I talked. Both houses we’re considering have a spare bedroom. I know you have your own life to live, but if you ever end up on Naboo…”

“Oh. For me?” Ahsoka’s face split in a smile so very slowly; she lurched forward, throwing her hands around Padmé’s shoulder. “Sure, I’ll come around then. I don’t want to miss out on the babies when they start being cute.”

“Excuse me, ‘when’ ?” Anakin scowled but he leaned in for a hug anyway. “Speaking of your own life, where are you going after this?”

“Back to Coruscant, I suppose. I want to stick with the boys while they’re in the transition period. After… I don’t know. I might go to Shili. The Jedi are always going to be my family, but seeing you two with the twins… It made me think. For the first few years of my life, it was my parents looking after me. I might not remember them, but I feel like they’d appreciate knowing I’m alive and doing well.”

“I’m certain they will.” Anakin put a hand on top of her montrals. “Next time I see you, you’ll be taller than me.”

“Don’t be ominous, Master. I don’t grow that fast. You’ll see me sooner.”

“And you, Commander?” He asked Rex. “Do you have plans?”

“Not as such. But Senator Organa told Cody that if he wins the election, he’ll be recruiting a few of us Clones for his security detail. I figure I’ll apply, if he’ll have me.”

“He will. I’ll make sure he knows about your resume,” Padmé promised.

Rex looked pleased but he raised his brows regardless.

“I believe that’s called nepotism, ma’am.”

“It’s cronyism, actually. Or it would be, if I believed you did not have the proper qualifications for the job.”

“Ah. In that case, I appreciate it.”

“Are you two done? I don’t know how much fuel this thing has,” Master Kenobi called, making his way from the speeder.

Anakin turned on him immediately.

“Should have checked the tank before you stole it.”

“I did not steal it. I borrowed it.”

“Right, because you always return the ships you borrow.”

“It’s been almost a year, how are you still sore about that? I said I was sorry.”

“Sorry won’t bring back the Twilight, Master. Monetary compensation won’t either. My heart is broken.”

“Well,” Master Kenobi considered him with mock solemnity, “will this make up for it then?”

He offered him something Sola struggled to recognize. It was a cylindrical object of sort and it was only from Anakin’s reaction that she recognized that it was a lightsaber.

“Where’d you find this thing? I thought it was lost.”

Master Kenobi shrugged humbly.

“Lost doesn’t mean destroyed. It fell down to the Lower Levels and I happened to find it being sold in a black market auction. I figured you would not like that.” He regarded Anakin solemnly. “I can’t counter the Council’s decision. But I think you should at least keep this. There are people out there who are still loyal to Palpatine. If there’s trouble…”

“There’s always trouble.” Anakin brushed it with the tips of his fingers, lingering at the hilt. “But I don’t think anyone’s going to pick a fight with me. I’m sorry, Master. I think you should keep it.”

“You… don’t want it?” Master Kenobi sounded genuinely perplexed. “Anakin, be serious.”

“I am. And I do want it but…” His face scrunched up as he looked for words.

“Yes?”

“Do you know why I joined the Jedi?” He asked, changing the topic.

“I recall you saying once you felt you didn’t have much of a choice in the matter but I imagine you had your reasons for staying.”

“I did. It was an adventure. And it was a choice – I just forgot. I was going to help people. I wanted to bring justice to places that didn’t have any. That was… a sweet dream.” His eyes rose to meet Master Kenobi’s, pleading with him to understand. “But I think I woke up a while ago. I had the time of my life as your apprentice, but I can’t say I did anything. And the Chancellor – during the war, he requested me for private missions sometimes. I wonder about that now; who did I kill? And on whose orders?”

“As far as I know, the Council was always informed of what those missions entrailed.” Master Kenobi frowned at him. “Don’t tell me you’re turning to pacifism. You? Are you sure you didn’t hit your head recently?”

“I think you’re being very rude to me right now,” Anakin chided him lightly. “And no, of course not. I’m just saying it’s extremely easy to kill someone with this – and it comes easy to me too. It’s too… much. I’m trying to be responsible here, I thought you would approve.”

“If that’s the case, then I’m proud of you for recognizing your limits. But Anakin, I wouldn’t offer it if I didn’t think you were safe.”

He still held the lightsaber out as if he thought Anakin might still change his mind and take it. And he did reach out – only to gently push Master Kenobi’s hand into a closed fist around the metal.

“It means a lot to me, truly. But I think you should keep it.” The solemnity of his tone changed into an almost whimsical expression. “Who knows? Maybe it will come in handy. I have an odd feeling someone else might have a use for it one day.”

Master Kenobi appeared oddly rejected.

“Well, if you insist on being prophetic about this, then I suppose I truly better keep it. I learned my lesson.”

“I do appreciate it,” Anakin repeated. “And you should keep in mind that I won’t be there to watch your back now. So stay out of trouble, alright?”

He put a hand on his shoulder in a move that had Master Kenobi looking quite perplexed. 

“Force, it’s truly time we left. You’re no longer making any sense.” 

Still, Sola thought he seemed pretty touched by the whole thing. He nodded to Padmé and Ahsoka snuck in one last hug and that was it. Even though they were there only for a short time, Sola felt a bit odd watching the speeder fly off, knowing that with the exception of Rex who was helping on her project, she might never see these people again. 

Dusk was settling over Varykino. 

The lake glowed orange, giving into pink; above it, only the tips of the mountains were still illuminated by direct sunlight as the valleys below were being cast into shadows. Tomorrow, Sola and her father would take the girls fishing. They had eleven days of vacation left. 

Somehow that felt like an eternity – like the happiness they could build in those eleven days would be enough to fill a lifetime. It was an illusion of course, but still, it was a nice dream.

Chapter Text

Sola’s project found its completion just at the onset of winter, two months after the original projected date. From the moment she presented her designs to the finish line it had been like wrangling a wild beast; working against delays, encountering new troubles for every problem solved. After the war, rebuilding had started en masse. Sola hadn’t accounted for that – these days everything from the materials and down to contracting companies was proving to be a rare commodity. At least her own part of the work was mostly done though. The Queen had approved her design and could understand that the problems were not coming from Sola’s end. 

Then after all that stress, the very end of construction found her with idle hands. There was nothing left for her to do now. Burnt out and yet restless, she spent much of her time beside the window, watching the snowfall. It varied from day to day; sometimes it’d dance down the skies in large, soft clumps. The other times, it was small particles tearing across in a furious rush. In either case, the snow did not stick around long. As soon as it made contact with the ground, it’d already start to melt away, leaving behind miserable puddles as if someone had flicked a paintbrush across the cityscape. Sola observed it all with mild fascination. The climate in Theed leaned towards being relatively moderate. She hadn’t seen snow like that since she’d been a teenager and in the heights of her anticipation, the act of simply watching was calming.

It was still strange to imagine – her work, completed. A part of her wanted to keep it close to her chest for just a little while longer because the moment it was publicly unveiled, the monument would cease to belong to her alone. But that was just the nature of art. Looking at those old, elegant buildings that Naboo claimed as its cultural heritage, nobody thought much about the long-dead artists who designed them. 

She supposed that the closest to glory that her own work might get would be when it cut ties with its creator.

It stood raised in an open field, not far from the Invasion monuments; the Queen had seen fit to place it in Theed’s Remembrance Park in a last minute change. The fact they had to build on soil rather than cobblestone had been one of the delays, because suddenly they had to recalculate everything. And the whole time, the construction company had been rushing her on behalf of another project they had lined up. Sola had just about lost her mind.

Standing at the foot of it now, she could hardly believe it. Despite the cold, her skin seemed to burn with excitement and pride. The chatter of officials behind her faded into white noise.

There it was. 

The base of it was designed in the image of two human arms from mid-forearm up. They were made from leftover plascrete that had been initially intended for the construction of military forts in the Outer Rim – Sola had been able to get it for cheap. The hands cupped the half-dismantled Republic Bomber in an almost playful manner, callously uncaring for the state of it. The Bomber itself had been salvaged from a real wreckage early in the war as feedback for the Republic engineers; it was rather sobering to think that real people had died on that ship. They’d had to pin the wreckage to the base in a way that looked like natural scattering of debris and that part had disturbed Sola even more. 

At the very bottom, the Clone artist that Rex had recommended had worked his magic. It reminded Sola a little bit of those ancient Mandalorian murals. The same blocky stylization, she supposed, depicting the people of the war. Clones and civilians, Jedi and military commanders from both sides. He’d used thin black outlines for the ones in the front and then they grew thicker and thicker for the shape of the crowd behind, until it merged seamlessly into bold aurebesh that wrapped the arms like shackles. If you looked at it from the right angle, you could read it.

Only the Gods dwell forever in sunlight. 

The line from the old epic had always seemed bleak to Sola as a schoolgirl. But in a galaxy haunted by billions of restless, untimely dead, it was a comfort. Even after it all, death could still be something natural. They’d not yet and never would fall so far. She’d picked it now for that reminder: no man and no evil would ever conquer eternity.

After all, even the puppet master behind the war had been only human. 

“You’ve done an exceptional job with it, Ms. Naberrie. Very creative.” Chancellor Organa told her later as more people began to gather for the official unveiling. His eyes crinkled kindly; Sola thought he looked tired but certainly not worn down. Most of the crowd was there to see him, rather than the monument but that was alright with her. It’d still be there in a year’s or a decade’s time. 

“Thank you, Your Excellency.” She plucked at the fur lining her coat with her fingers. Her mother would tell her to keep her chin up proudly but Sola had never been too good at that. By Shiraya, was this a conversation she wanted to escape from.

The Chancellor inclined his head with a hint of a smile. Then, he turned to his companion and the child.

“Ms. Naberrie, as you may know, is the sister of our Lady Amidala. A very talented family, it seems.”

“Indeed. The arms are a reference to Fear and Courage by E. Kocbek, I imagine? Quite subtle.”

Sola clasped her hands behind her back firmly.

“Thank you, Master Jedi. It’s more of a nod to the holofilm adaptation, truly. I always admired how the director used visual imagery to represent war.”

She had expected that the Jedi would caught it – he had the air of someone well-read. Similar to the other Jedi she’d met, Master Windu had the stance of a warrior but unlike them, he had a scholar’s appreciation for the arts. He took this opportunity to turn to the child.

“I see. Are you familiar with the holofilm, Caleb?”

The Padawan, Caleb, was possibly the one person more nervous than Sola. His eyes kept glancing across the park, as if he expected a group of assassins to jump at them from the bush at any moment. From what Sola had understood, he’d been sent to accompany Master Windu as part of the Chancellor’s security detail to gain experience – he was one of those unfortunate few whose apprenticeship had taken place entirely during the war. He took it very seriously and both Chancellor Organa and Master Windu were endlessly patient with him.

“Uhh – I believe so, Master. It must have been a few years back. If I remember right… the Ambassador’s son had a… toy set? Is that the reference?”

“Your memory is correct, yes. It was a miniature battalion set.”

The boy nodded seriously.

“The Clone designs look very accurate,” he commented, glancing at the Jedi Master from the corner of his eye rather than at Sola herself. She thought it was rather cute.

This, at least , was something Sola could talk about.

“They ought to be. The artist is a Clone himself – Scrapper’s the name. He’s from the 501st, I believe. If you’re curious about the process, he should be somewhere around here, I saw him earlier and I’m sure he’d be happy to answer questions.”

“The 501st? Of course.” Master Windu’s expression was the very image of serenity but at the last moment the corners of his lips twitched as if with some unspoken amusement. 

Sola could gauge what it was. These military people – they had their strange fixations and she’d gathered by now that the 501st had a reputation. 

Earlier, she'd gone looking for Rex and found him and Scrapper both with a group of Clones – some of them new citizens of Naboo who’d gotten curious, some of them friends who’d come specifically for the two of them and some members of the Chancellor’s security detail. She hadn’t meant to listen in on their conversation but it had been a heated debate. Apparently even now legions and battalions mattered a whole deal to the Clones. There’d been at least one haughty comment that of course it would be the 501st indirectly getting a monument – to which Rex reminded them that the 212th received a statue on Utapau for their defeat of General Grievous.

“Who told you that, Cody?” One Clone snidely asked. “The 212th got nothing. General Kenobi got a statue. Wonderful work, by the way. Looks nothing like him. Seems like the Pau’ans thought he’d look more handsome and in line with their beauty standards if he was completely hairless.”

“Oh, come on. You got an acknowledgement on there. You have to read the fine print.”

“Kark that acknowledgement. I want a statue. Did I not fight? Did I not shed my sweat and blood?”

“Yeah, a whole lot of sweat, you stinker. If they handed out statues for that, yours would be at 79’s at best.”

“Don’t wish that on 79’s, they’re just trying to make an honest living. They’d lose business.”

“Aw, kriff you both. That’s a foul move.”

Sola had wisely removed herself, mentally wishing Rex the best of luck and making a note to find a holo image of that hairless Master Kenobi statue. She had an intense itch to forward it to Anakin with no explanation, just in case he hadn’t heard about it yet. 

When Queen Apailana ascended that hastily constructed podium, Sola observed the crowd. 

Her family was there, of course. From her grandfather’s shoulders, Pooja gave her a wide-toothed smile and waved. Her sister was a bit further away with her family – doubtlessly strategically placing herself as to catch Chancellor Organa after the event. Among the others, she could recognize some people as workers who had helped at some point in the construction but most were strangers. A few reporters were trying to push through. In that crowd of strangers though, Sola mused, the Clones really did look the happiest to be there. To everyone else, this was a bleak reminder. To them, it was a bleak acknowledgement.

The chatter hushed when the Queen began her speech.

“My dear friends, esteemed citizens. I want to thank you all for gathering here despite the weather and I would also like to humbly thank our Chancellor for gracing us with a visit.” Her young voice was clear and high. It carried even through the snowfall. 

“Thirteen years ago Queen Amidala commissioned a memorial for the atrocities committed against the people of Naboo. It’s here, in this very park. Many of you have lived through the Invasion yourselves. However, for those of us who were born after, the memories our elders passed down to us were those of strength, of the bravery and resilience of the Naboo people. When we looked at the reminders of that tragedy, we took it as a fact that no such event shall befall us in our lifetimes. But it has. And so here we are.”

The Queen’s voice conjured a sort of melancholy. It swept over the gathered like a heavy cloud, pulling downwards with the snow.

“There is much I could say about the war. A million words would not encompass all the ways it has changed all of our lives – so let’s leave this task for the poets and the novelists among us. All I can say is exactly what my predecessors had said after the Invasion, after every major tragedy in the history of Naboo: let this be a reminder of strength. The shared sorrow of our past and the brighter future ahead in truth occupy the same space and they must occupy it harmoniously. This monument reminds us of that and will continue to remind the generations to come. Please, a round of applause for everyone who has worked hard for its creation. In this time most of all, we need unity and I believe this piece represents that wonderfully. But I will let our artist, Ms. Sola Naberrie say more on this.”

Sola’s own speech was short. She wasn’t fond of public speaking and she didn’t believe in telling people how to interpret her work. Instead, she spent the time she was allotted listing everyone who had contributed to the project and thanking them individually.

Initially, she had wanted to pass her speech to Rex. A veteran, she argued, would surely have something more meaningful to say on the topic of war. Inside, she was terrified of the shame of making empty statements. But he wouldn’t hear of it and Sola could not force him. So this was her alternative.

The whole little ceremony was a bit too… much for her. She shook hands with the Queen, with Representative Binks and Senator Saché and finally with the Chancellor; and then waited as each of her associates did the same. It took an eternity, in her mind. Standing there on the podium, feeling snowflakes melt against her face.

When the Queen finally cut the red ribbon, it was almost a relief.

Once Sola managed to escape, Padmé was there, pushing past the few remaining people as forcibly as she could while carrying Leia. The baby’s fluffy white coat made it look almost as if she were holding a large stuffed animal.

“Good job!” Padmé stopped to a halt. Her bright red – royal – eyeliner crinkled as she grinned. “See, it wasn’t that bad was it?”

“ Ba !” Leia agreed, flailing her arms. In the cold air, her breath was a gentle puff of smoke.

Sola huffed, shaking her head.

“I don’t know how you do it. I step up there and all I can think is how dry my mouth is.” 

“Don’t be stupid, you did well.” Her sister scolded. “And at least it’s behind you now.”

“Thank Shiraya.” Tickling her niece’s cheek, she forced the last of the tension out of her mind. As usual, Padmé had the right of it. It was over now. In truth, she was starting to feel almost giddy. “And how are we today?”

Leia giggled. Drool escaped the corner of her mouth as she did but Padmé immediately conjured a tissue, wiping it before it could drop on her coat.

“Surprisingly well-behaved. Not one temper tantrum since we got here. I worried that the crowd would bother them but they don’t seem to mind at all.” Padmé winced as Leia wrapped her little fist around her braid and tugged. The bells in her sister’s hair chimed, to the baby’s delight.

“Well-behaved, you say,” Sola teased. “You know, Professor, I don’t think the bells were a good idea.”

“You’re telling me. The one time I get to dress up…” She winced again. “Leia, sweetheart, please …”

“ Ba !”

“Anyway, have you seen Mom and Dad? I was held back longer than I thought and I lost track of them.”

“Last I saw, they were waiting near the entrance. I think they took the girls to the playground.” Padmé looked at something over Sola’s shoulder with the air of distraction.

Cocking her head, Sola turned around and followed her gaze to the podium. Chancellor Organa was saying something to the Naboo Senator then shook her hand. Some of the reporters wanted to speak to him but he was already on his way, his entourage of Jedi and Clones blocking him from view.

“The Chancellor seems like a busy man,” she commented. “I’m surprised he found the time for something like this. It was a bit out of the blue. Even the Queen only heard about it this morning.”

“He’s probably headed somewhere else and stopped along the way. They’re opening negotiations with the Banking Clans to return the control of the banks to them, last I heard. If I know Bail, he’ll want to see to that personally.”

“Rather nice of him, still.”

“That’s just how he is.” Padmé bounced Leia. “A bit of a workaholic, but with a good heart and a hands-on approach to things. I always appreciated that. Look sharp, he’s headed this way.”

Privately, Sola thought it was rather bold of Padmé to call anyone a workaholic but of course she could not say that now with Bail Organa creeping behind her back.

“Padmé,” he greeted. “You’re looking well.”

“I could say the same about you, Bail. How are you?” Her sister smiled.

“Oh, I can’t complain. Ms. Naberrie, I’d like to extend my praise again. This truly is a very thoughtful piece of work.”

Caught off-guard, Sola felt her cheeks burn.

“Thank you, Your Excellency,” she said, almost biting her tongue in her rush. Padmé shot her an amused look. “That means a lot.”

His eyes flickered to Leia.

“I see you’ve brought one of the little ones.”

“Both of them, actually. Luke’s with Anakin, I think they got side-tracked with the Clones.” She shifted Leia on her hip as if in offering. “Do you want to hold her?”

Chancellor Organa accepted the baby with the practiced eagerness of someone who liked children and knew his way around them. 

“She’s grown so much,” he observed, bouncing her lightly. His face remained carefully still as Leia explored it with her hands, though his lips threatened to twitch into a smile.

“Leia, sweetheart, this is your Uncle Bail. Do you remember him?”

“ Ba ,” the baby chattered, fascinated with the stranger. It was hard to say if she did remember him – Anakin made a lot of bold claims about the twins remembering the other people present at their birth but Sola thought Anakin would find a deeper meaning in a sneeze. But in any case, Leia got her sociability from her mother. “ Bwa .”

“Hello, Leia. I’m glad to meet you again.” Chancellor Organa muttered softly, then to Padmé he said: “I see they’re starting to get chatty.”

“A bit. Leia is a bit better at it. Luke… at this rate his first word is going to be Artoo. He’s obsessed with that droid.”

“Tu, tu.” Leia seemed to agree.

“Yes, dear,” Padmé sighed. “Artoo.”

“Children can be very unpredictable with their favourites at this age. Breha picks up a lot of stories whenever she visits orphanages across Alderaan.” He sounded almost sad at that. When he continued, it was almost as an afterthought.  “With my work and hers, there’s no time right now, but once my term ends we are thinking of adopting.” 

Her sister’s eyes turned searching. 

“You’ve been talking about that for a long time. I hope you get the chance. You’ll make wonderful parents, I know it.”

The Chancellor hummed and smiled. 

“Thank you, Padmé. In the meantime, don’t mind if I spoil your little ones instead. Did you get my package?”

“I certainly did. Would you mind telling me what you were doing on Mandalore or is that classified?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say classified just… not recommended for distribution. Let us go a bit to the side and then we can talk.”

If Chancellor Organa’s entourage thought anything of that, none of them said anything. It spoke of the respect they had for him, Sola thought. Even though the Jedi followed them silently and at a respectable distance, she didn’t doubt that if trouble flared up, they’d be ready.

Over the Chancellor’s shoulder, baby Leia flailed her arm at them in a grabby motion and cautiously, Caleb waved back. This made her laugh with delight then clap. Emboldened, he waved again, this time making a goody face, while the Jedi Master pretended not to see.

Their walk ended carrying them across one of the cobblestone pathways. Along the sides, the ground was torn open in muddy patches. During the war, the funding for upkeep of various public places had been cut but they were already preparing to fix that come spring. They’d already planted some flower bulbs and more would follow as the weather improved.

As far as Sola understood, the new funding for repairs came from the Senate. Eventually, months of negotiations yielded some results. Both the Republic and the former CIS were able to agree to drop the discussion on reparations; instead, each world was required to add to a joint fund which the Republic distributed based on reported damages. Padmé had said that the bill had barely passed – but both sides ultimately found it preferable to a detailed investigation into possible war crimes.

Sometimes, Sola supposed, the best way to get two groups to agree to something was to threaten them with another, worse, thing. 

She didn’t have the head for that kind of maneuring. Most of the time she took what she’d heard on the news at face value and didn’t stress too much trying to figure out what the higher motive was. That was Padmé’s work, lately; analyzing trends, writing articles and attending gatherings. She spoke about the economy and the logistics of trade routes and all those knots that still waited to be untangled.

To Sola it was simple. The war was over and they were planting flowers again. 

The Chancellor and Padmé did not seem in any worse mood for what they discussed. She’d expected two friends to talk about other things, but she supposed that for the two of them speaking of their concerns to a friendly ear was indeed relaxing. She had noticed that about her sister. The more she felt secure with her work, the less bad days she had. By now she truly seemed content – but for her, content never meant carefree. Padmé always needed something to fight for. 

“I wish you could stop by some day,” she told him at some point. The bells in her hair chimed with the rhythm of her walk.

“One day. The workload right now is just intense. I have to be on Scipio in twenty hours and after that I’m scheduled to speak with Nute Gunray on the matter of tariffs.” Diplomatic as he was, Sola could still hear the distaste. “But if no sooner, I promise I’ll try to make some time for the twins’ birthday.”

“Don’t burn yourself out,” Padmé cautioned. “And don’t try to do everything yourself. There’s others in your corner.”

“I know. Don’t worry about me.” Turning to the side, he gestured at the Jedi. “As you can see, I’m in good company.”

“Indeed. I’m glad to see you too, Master Jedi. It has been a while. I hope the circumstances have been kinder to you than our last meeting.”

Master Windu inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement. The last time they met, Sola understood, could be no later than during the conclusion of Anakin’s trial. 

“It has been a challenging time for everyone, My Lady.” 

Then, just a few minutes later when they turned past a large, white fountain, he tilted his head towards the exit of the park, giving the impression of listening. Sola had seen it many times now but she thought she’d never get used to it.

“I don’t want to rush you, but I think your absence has been noticed.”

It indeed had but Anakin didn’t seem too anxious. If anything, Sola thought he’d just gotten fed up with socializing and wanted to leave. 

“Your Excellency.” That was as far as his regard went. He didn’t bother with any introductory statements; he stood himself firmly by Padmé’s side like his presence there should be self-explanatory. 

Sola thought it took talent to make something look so casual yet so unsubtle. The look he gave Master Windu screamed ‘ Well, are you going to say anything about it? ’.

Master Windu did not feel like saying anything about it. 

“Skywalker.” There was a tired weight to how he said the name – like condensing a lifetime’s worth of remembrance into one acknowledgement. “You seem… healthy.”

Time had shown a little bit of kindness to Anakin in that regard. Sola was not privy to the details but she could see the difference, just as well as Master Windu presumably could. He’d regained at least some of the weight he’d lost after his injury. Those final traces of boyish softness she recalled from holos were gone though; the last vestiges of his youth. Some chapters of life just had that finality to them. Once closed, it was time to move on.

“I echo that sentiment,” Chancellor Organa smiled warmly. 

Anakin shrugged it off carelessly.

“My wife occasionally throws vegetables at me. It’s a good life.”

“What do you mean ‘ occasionally ’?” 

“Ah, yes, excuse me. She throws vegetables at me all the time.”

“At least twice per day, as the doctors will recommend,” Padmé concluded. She inspected the white lump he was carrying. “Is he asleep?”

“Surprisingly, yes. I guess it was all a little too eventful for him.”

“Poor baby,” she cooed.

“He’s being carried, how poor can he be?” Then, before blinking, he turned to Sola. “Good job, by the way. It came out pretty great.”

“It was a joint project, but thank you.”

“I know. Scrapper outdid himself, too. I’m glad he’s able to use his talent for things like this.” Anakin’s head tilted into a curious look towards the Chancellor. “He was very honoured that His Excellency has come to see the opening. I have to say, I was surprised by that too. I thought it was dangerous for you to be in public?”

“Is it?” Sola worried, remembering just how on edge the little Jedi seemed.

“Not at all. I happen to have a lot of faith in my security detail.”

“I’m sure nothing will happen with Master Windu there,” Padmé chided, more for Sola’s sake. “And besides, we are in peacetime. Don’t be paranoid.”

“As she said.”

“If you say so.” To Sola’s ears, Anakin sounded almost a little disappointed. He didn’t dwell on it, though. “I see you borrowed Master Billaba’s Padawan, Master. Considering getting one yourself?”

“It’s a good experience for Caleb,” Master Windu said calmly. “I’ll leave childrearing to those more… inclined.” 

That was said with a meaningful look at Leia; she was at this moment trying to shove her entire fist into her mouth in the Chancellor's arms. Sola thought that even a few months ago, Anakin would have taken that very personally. Now he just smiled.

“Is it your first time acting as a bodyguard?” He asked the child.

“Yes, Master Skywalker.”

“How do you find it?”

“It’s… different. My Master told me to consider it a fresh perspective on what it means to be a Jedi. I find it – ah – educational.” The boy could not look him in the eye.

It didn’t matter. Anakin had gotten what he wanted. His smile turned mischievous.

“It’s really boring, isn’t it?” He asked, boldly. The tips of Caleb’s ears turned red which only made his grin wider. “Hey, it’s alright. We’ve all been there. There’s a reason these missions are always done in pairs.”

“It… is a little boring.”

“Don’t encourage him,” Master Windu warned, now looking more than a little annoyed. Sola hadn’t known this was possible for him. He’d seemed so… unflappable. “A mission is a mission and a Jedi must stay vigilant, regardless of how calm things appear on the surface.”

“Yes, of course.” Anakin agreed but he winked at Caleb. “But next time, pack a set of cards.”

Master Windu’s concerns aside, Sola thought that Caleb looked more than a little awe-struck. She thought it was Anakin’s defiance of the Jedi’s reserved discipline that got him. Not perhaps because it was exactly responsible – but because it was daring, and most of all, fun . He had that kind of charm, on his good days.

She thought that one day when they were a little bit older, the twins were going to adore him.

Not long after, Luke woke up, inconsolable and that was that. Padmé said goodbye to the Chancellor; he pressed one last kiss to both of the children and he left, his cape sweeping behind him. 

“Well,” Padmé sighed, “I guess it’s straight home now? I’m sorry we won’t be there for the dinner. I have so many papers to grade and I think the children won’t be able to take much more.”

“That’s fine. I’ll save some cake for you.” Sola shook her head. The cold air made her lungs feel light and cavernous; or perhaps that was the excitement. She flicked her sister’s braid, letting the bells jingle. “I can’t believe you got all dressed up just for this.”

“It’s a special occasion!”

It certainly was – for Sola. She’d waited for this for so long and Padmé knew it.

She found the extra miles her sister would go to endlessly endearing. It was like the patterns of her affection, made visible. 

“So, what’s next? You’re traveling soon, right?” She asked Anakin.

He was trying to wrangle Luke but all of his attempts so far had been failures. Finally, he stuck his tongue at him and somehow that shocked Luke enough to stop. He blinked owlishly, face red and blotchy as if he couldn’t believe it. 

“Eventually,” he said, distractedly and flicked Luke’s nose. “When the Force wills it.”

“Probably in spring,” Padmé translated helpfully, “I hear that the Force is very agreeable in spring and coincidentally , also the weather.”

“I can only hope.”

The weather, Sola thought, was a convenient excuse. It unveiled what he really needed – a little more time. Tatooine would wait for him regardless.

“And you?” Padmé asked. “Do you have any plans now that you’re finished with this?”

“I’ve been offered a private contract. An upper-class family house, apparently.” That was far more in line with what she usually did. “I’m really not thinking about it yet though. I need a weekend for myself. Honestly, wouldn’t it be nice if life just paused for a little bit?”

“The ideal.” Her sister smiled. “But what can you do?”

Truly, Sola supposed that they should count the relentless pace as a blessing. There had been so many changes already and more yet to come. Only stars in the skies were anywhere close to static – those living beneath them had to find their happiness moving from event to event. 

That was some thought. Each of those flickering lives she’d only briefly brushed against was headed somewhere . Always moving.

Today they had this moment. Tomorrow, she hoped – knew – something better.