Day Three: Though Hearts Break

Day Three
Though Hearts Break

"I'm sorry."

That was the seventh time today she had heard him say that, and she had had enough. She folded her arms and glared at him, brown eyes flashing with anger. Her voice was tight, and icy enough to put a night out on Hoth to shame. "Don't - say that - again."

Anakin's face was that of a lost little boy. "I'm -" He stopped himself and started again. "I won't."

The anger in Padmé's eyes melted into hot tears. She gasped out choked sobs and rubbed viciously at her eyes.

It tore Anakin's heart - he had never seen his angel in so much pain. When his mother died, Padmé had been his support and comfort. And though he was grieving as much as she was, he now supported and comforted her.

It wasn't support or comfort when he apologized to her. But he couldn't cleanse his heart of the guilt.

Or the hate.

Just yesterday morning, he had been excited as he told Padmé about his dreams for Beltaine. Now, there was no more excitement, no more dreams. What had once been an opportunity was now a vast, albeit confining, prison. He hated Beltaine. Here, his firstborn - no, first child, not firstborn - had died.

"I hate it!" he finally shouted.

Padmé's look through her tears was questioning.

"This!" he shouted, turning away and waving his arm as if to encompass the entire planet. "This whole stupid world! I hate it!"

"What are you going to do: destroy it like you destroyed those Tuskens?" Padmé challenged, her voice acidic.

Anakin turned back to her, blue eyes dark and wildly storming. How dare she?

"Don't you look at me that way, Anakin Skywalker," Padmé warned, her voice fully a Queen's.

"Don't ever mention those Tuskens again, Padmé Naberrie," he returned, his frigid tone belying the roiling anger and hurt inside. "You hear me? Never."

Padmé couldn't help but wonder how they would survive if they'd be at each other's throats like this.

Then Anakin began to cry. He sat down hard beside her, and she pulled his head to rest on her shoulder. Yesterday, he had comforted her - now it was his turn.

"Ani," she said softly, "the baby's in heaven. He - and your parents - are in heaven. You have to believe that. God's in control."

Anakin's heart rebelled violently. "What kind of loving God would let an unborn child die?"

Padmé paused, drawing her answer from her deepest, oldest convictions. "The same God who wept with two sisters at the tomb of their brother - the same God who brought that brother back to life." Padmé felt her spirit grow calmer as she spoke her beliefs. "There's a reason for everything, Anakin, but we won't know all the reasons until we reach heaven. And even then, we won't know all of them. We just have to trust in God, that He knows what He's doing."

Padmé's voice began to calm Anakin's grief-wracked soul. He didn't share his wife's faith. She had to believe for both of them. He just couldn't trust God like that, not yet.

She began to sing softly:

For the young abandoned husband
Left alone without a reason
For the pilgrim in the city where
there is no home
For the son without a father
For his solitary mother
I have a message
He sees you, He knows you
He loves you, He loves you

Every heart that is breaking tonight
Is the heart of a child that He
holds in His sight
And oh how He longs to hold
in His arms
Every heart that is breaking tonight

For the precious, fallen daughter
For her devastated father
For the prodigal who's dying
in a strange new way
For the child who's always hungry
For the patriot with no country
I have a message
He sees you, He knows you
He loves you, Jesus loves you

Every heart that is breaking tonight
Is the heart of a child that He
holds in His sight
And oh how He longs to hold
in His arms
Every heart that is breaking tonight

It was only late afternoon, but Anakin slept on his wife's shoulder. Padmé hummed for a few more minutes before she, too, fell asleep. Physically and emotionally exhausted, they slept till the next morning.

~*~

"Master Obi-Wan, share I do your anxiety. But permit you to go, I cannot."

Yoda and Obi-Wan Kenobi were in the Jedi Temple, in the Room of a Thousand Fountains. Obi-Wan leaned forward from his seat on a stone, his normally mild blue eyes intense. "Master, that boy is my Padawan. My responsibility. At the risk of sounding like Qui-Gon, I am going, regardless of what anyone says."

Master Yoda huffed, frustrated.

"You felt the tremors in the Force," Obi-Wan continued. "Many Masters did. Whatever has happened to Anakin and Pa - Senator Amidala - is very serious. They haven't contacted us in nearly four days!"

"Afraid are you, Obi-Wan?"

And that was the ugly truth: Obi-Wan Kenobi was very afraid. If something were to happen to Padmé - not only so soon after their wedding but so soon after Shmi's death - who knew how Anakin would react, what he would do. Neither Anakin nor Padmé had given any details on what had happened after Shmi's death, but Obi-Wan didn't need the Force to tell that something had gone very, very wrong. "Yes," he answered frankly.

Yoda sighed.

Obi-Wan had a sudden flash of memory.

"Qui-Gon's defiance I sense in you. Need that, you do not... Agree with you, the Council does. Your apprentice, Skywalker will be."

The Jedi Knight shook his head.

"Master Yoda, if Obi-Wan doesn't go find Anakin, I will," said a familiar female voice. Obi-Wan twisted around on his stone to see an equally familiar female come out from behind a cluster of shrubs over to them.

"Siri!" Obi-Wan exclaimed.

"Master Siri," Yoda sighed, shaking his head, "too old you are to be eavesdropping."

Siri Tachi shrugged and managed to bite back a grin. "I didn't mean to. I was reading back there when you two came in. I'd have to be deaf not to hear you."

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and suppressed his mirth.

"I mean it, though," she continued. "What I said about finding Anakin. I felt those tremors, too. Whatever happened to Anakin and the Senator was very, very bad."

Obi-Wan nodded slowly. "I'd be most grateful for your assistance, Siri."

Yoda eyed the two Jedi Knights. "In the midst of a war, we are. To spare two Knights to search for one Padawan and one Senator, difficult would be."

"With both of us looking, it shouldn't take that long," Obi-Wan reasoned.

"Besides," Siri added, her voice slightly tight, "if we can't spare ourselves to help those to whom we have a responsibility, we're no better than the Separatists."

Obi-Wan wanted to say, "Wow, Siri, that was profound," but he thought better of it.

"Very well," Yoda conceded. "Go, you may. But quick you must be."

Obi-Wan stood, and both Knights bowed. "Yes, Master," they said in unison.

"May the Force be with you."

~*~

In the hall, Obi-Wan turned to Siri, noting that she no longer wore her characteristic brown unisuit but cream-colored traditional Jedi attire. "Thank you for the help, Siri."

His tone was not very warm at all, but Siri knew his voice well, and this was a little too warm for her comfort. She turned to him and jabbed her finger in his face. "Look, Kenobi, I'm doing this for Anakin, not you." She spun on her heel and strode off, her blond hair bouncing with each step.

Obi-Wan quirked a smile after her. "Yes, Ma'am," he said softly.

"Every Heart That Is Breaking"
Words and Music by Twila Paris
Album: FOR EVERY HEART

Day Two: Hopes Live and Die

Spoiler Warning:

The second half of the chapter deals with a miscarriage - probably not for younger children.

Quick Note:

This will make it two chapters in one week. I posted this second one so that my cousins could read it sooner.

Acknowledgments:

Lots of thanks to my beta-reader for getting back with me so quickly for my first chapter. You’re the greatest!

The idea for this chapter and the crux of the first part of this book came from two of Darth Ishtar’s (theForce.net) fanfics: “Heartache on My List” and The Other Half, Part 2: The Dying of the Light.

Day Two

Hopes Live and Die

And we all dream our cherished dreams

And we hope for and long for

So many things…and

Until the day we see His face

We will never know all the whys

But the questions we carry will be erased

When we see the love in His eyes

And the hands that hold our hopes and dreams

Will reach out to welcome us Home

But for now we can know

That we never really dance alone

- Joanna Carlson, “Never Dance Alone”

Their camp was near the edge of a vast lake. On the distant side, mountains rose majestically to touch the gauzy pink clouds of dawn.

The Skywalkers had woken early. After bundling Padmé against the same tree, Anakin set to making breakfast. Strangely, Padmé was hurting today more than yesterday, but she hadn’t told Anakin that yet.

“You want pancakes?” he asked her.

Padmé exhaled a disbelieving laugh. “Ani, we need to be rationing this stuff,” she reminded him. “You shouldn’t be getting fancy.”

Anakin cocked his head. “You weren’t complaining about it last night.”

“I didn’t remember last night. Just make something simple – I’ll be okay.”

Anakin gave her a thoughtful once-over and nodded. “If you say so.”

Padmé turned her attention to the sun rising over the trees. It was beautiful. She was so absorbed in it that Anakin had to wave his hand in front of her face. “He-llo? Coruscant to Padmé – come in, Padmé.”

She turned back to him and gave him a dazzling smile. “Yes, husband mine?”

Anakin held up a bowl of porridge. Atop the porridge were two eggs and a piece of bacon to create a smile. Padmé rolled her eyes. “Ani!”

“Hey, don’t forget you’re eating for two now, Mama-girl,” he teased. Then he stopped and frowned in mock contemplation. “I wondered why you were eating so much at that reception.”

“Anakin!”

“Open up.”

Padmé rolled her eyes again and obeyed. After the first bite, she looked beyond Anakin at the cooking gear. “Where’s your breakfast?”

Anakin looked down, suddenly fascinated with the scuff-marks on his boots.

“Oh, Anakin, you need to eat, too!”

“Not necessarily!” he protested. “I’m a Jedi – I use the Force. I can go for a couple days without food. I’m not the one who really needs to eat.”

“Anakin –”

“No, Padmé,” he said, his voice suddenly firm and commanding.

Padmé stared at him in surprise: she had never heard that tone of voice before. Before… well, she was the elder of them, and the wiser, and he generally listened to her. To have those positions suddenly switched felt awkward, but it felt right at the same time. He was the head of their family. She slowly nodded her submission.

“Anyway,” began Anakin, his voice softening, “I’m going to start hunting for meat and searching for edible plants. It could be weeks before someone comes for us, so I have to be planning for the meantime.”

Padmé voiced the fear that both had secretly held. “What if no one ever comes?”

Anakin locked eyes with her, his blue gaze electrically intense. “Then we start over – here.”

That was the last thing Padmé had expected to hear. “What?”

“Padmé, we can do it. Start a new life for ourselves here. This area is rich in resources. We can build ourselves a log cabin, grow a garden, raise a big family… We can do it.”

“Anakin!” Padmé exclaimed, incredulous.

His eyes took on a distant look as he stared out across the lake. “And when we have a lot of kids, we can go mining for metals, and shape them… Maybe someday, our kids will have built something space-worthy, and our family will be free again.” He returned his attention to her, childlike excitement in his eyes. “We can build our own civilization, right here on the edge of the Unknown Regions.” Then, as if it had just hit him: “I can even start our own Jedi Order!”

Laughing still hurt, but Padmé did it anyway. “Anakin Skywalker – you…!” She laughed again. “You’re crazy, Skywalker!”

Anakin pretended to be taken aback. “Really, Padmé, I’m hurt.”

Padmé shook her head, still grinning. “The craziest part is that I think you could be right.”

Anakin’s grin lit up the camp. He stood up, ignited his lightsaber, and raised it high. “I claim this land forever to be the Skywalkers’!” he declared, half-playfully, half-seriously. “And we’ll call it…” He closed his eyes, searching for a good name. “Beltaine.”

“Beltaine?”

“That’s what they called the first of May in Erin,” Anakin explained. “Gilraen told me that.”

“Erin… that was the name for ancient Ireland, wasn’t it?”

Anakin nodded. “I’d say that it’s about regional May right now – it looks like mid-spring.”

Padmé nodded her agreement. “Beltaine – I like it.”

Anakin dramatically brandished his saber in the air. “King and Queen Skywalker do hereby forever name this world Beltaine.”

“Am I supposed to cheer?” Padmé asked dryly.

Anakin stared at her. “Very funny.”

~*~

Padmé was worried. It was late afternoon, and she had been discharging blood little by little all day. By lunchtime, she’d told Anakin, and now he was worried, too. Neither of them voiced the fear that the baby would die – neither wanted to concede the possibility.

Suddenly, Padmé felt a sharp pain in her abdomen. “Anakin!” she cried.

He flew to her side, his face white. “I know,” he whispered.

Tears welled up in her wide brown eyes and rolled down her face. “I think… I think…”

Anakin pressed his finger to her lips. “I know,” he repeated, his own tears falling. He pressed his wife’s trembling body against his own in a tight embrace.

“Oh, Anakin… Anakin…”

“Padmé, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.” I didn’t check the ship before we left to see if it was sabotaged. If I had, we never would have crashed. If we hadn’t, our baby wouldn’t be – wouldn’t be…

They cried together.

~*~

It was over by nightfall.

Padmé had cried herself to sleep.

It was midnight, and Anakin couldn’t sleep. Not wanting to disturb his wife, he left the tent and stood out at the water’s edge, trying to let the mountain night breeze calm him. But no calm came.

He felt racked with guilt and loss. Anger festered in his tortured heart.

Like when his mother died.

As his shoulders began to shake again, he put his left hand over his mouth, then moved it up to cover his eyes. God, why? Why did You take our child? He was just a baby – why did You…

The father collapsed to his knees in a storm of tears and pounded the ground so hard that his whole mechno arm hurt. He welcomed the pain, tried to concentrate on it than on the pain in his soul.

He had felt the baby die. It had been like a light going out, both inside Padmé’s womb and inside Anakin’s own heart. He had been powerless to stop it. Why couldn't I save him?

"Sometimes there are things no one can fix... You're not all-powerful Anakin."

"Well, I should be. Someday, I will be the most powerful Jedi ever! I promise you: I will even learn to stop people from dying!"

Anakin turned back to the tent. "I'm sorry, Padmé. We will survive this. We will get another chance... I promise."

Some things we can't change

No matter how hard we've tried

And we've failed

Seems there's nothing to do but endure

Life is not easy

And pain is no stranger

And we're constantly faced

With the choice to embrace or to run

Oh but there's strength when we run in

To Love's faithful arms

And we find hope again... and

Until the day we see His face

We will never know all the whys

But the questions we carry are gonna be erased

When we see the love in His eyes

And the hands that hold our hopes and dreams

Reach out to welcome us Home

But for now we can know

That we never really dance alone

- “Never Dance Alone”

Day 1: Genesis

Part I

Survival


Day One
Genesis

The Skywalkers' Sunset

The fire had died down, so Anakin lit their own small campfire with his lightsaber. They had crashed around midday here, and now the sun hung low in the west.

Padmé was leaning against a tree, wrapped up in blankets like a mummy. Anakin was struggling with the tent, which kept trying to fold in on itself. Watching him, Padmé wanted to giggle but knew it would only harm her. She could still smile, though.

Anakin turned to her and glared. “You think this is funny?” he demanded, exasperated. The tent caved again.

Padmé couldn’t stop the giggle this time, much as it hurt. Smiling despite the pain, she gasped out, “Most powerful Jedi ever, and he can’t even set up a little tent.”

“And you could?”

Padmé managed a tiny shrug. “I would if I could, but I can’t.”

Rolling his eyes, Anakin returned to his task. “Obi-Wan always -grunt- always helped -grunt- me before.”

“Uh-huh.”

The tent fell back out of Anakin’s grip. He dove for it and lost his balance. Padmé bit back another giggle. Anakin pulled himself up, careful of his broken collarbone. Then he let out a frustrated snarl and kicked at the fabric. “Stupid thing!” he growled. He turned to his wife and said, “A little help?”

Padmé raised her eyebrows and looked pointedly down at her cocooned self.

“But do you know how to set this up?” Anakin persisted.

“Sure. I would watch Dad do it when he took us camping.”

“You knew all along and didn’t tell me?”

“I thought that you’d have had it figured out by now!”

“You thought I’d...thanks a lot, Padmé!”

Once Padmé started directing Anakin, the tent was raised quickly. The Jedi Padawan then set to making dinner.

“Well,” Padmé said with a straight face, “If you can’t set up tents, at least you can cook.”

Anakin threw her an extraordinarily rare long-suffering look. “Open up, Ladyship.”

Padmé obediently opened her mouth for Anakin to feed her another chunk of meat. “Seriously, this is-”

“No talking with your mouth full,” Anakin admonished playfully. “Come on, you’ve been to etiquette school.”

Padmé threw him a mock-icy glare and swallowed. “Don’t rebuke me when I’m complimenting you.”

A lopsided grin spreading across his face, Anakin settled easily back on his haunches. “Oh, well then in that case.”

Padmé rolled her eyes. “Just going to say how tasty the meat was,” she muttered.

Anakin’s grin grew even wider. “‘Not much spice – just enough’.”

“You sounded like you were quoting,” Padmé noted.

“An admirable observation. Dex Jettster says that. He taught me how to cook, since Obi-wan, umm...” He waved his left hand expressively.

Padmé grinned with understanding and thought that if her husband’s grin got any wider, his face would split.

~*~

Anakin snuggled in the sleeping bag next to Padmé. She was slightly Force-sensitive, but she didn’t need the Force to figure out that her husband was dead-tired. Still, she had to tell him – she didn’t want to postpone it any longer. “Ani?”

“Mmm?” came the sleepy reply.

“Ani, there’s something I need to tell you.”

Anakin opened his eyes. “What, honey?”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then started into those impossibly blue eyes. “I’m...Ani, I’m pregnant.”

Anakin’s face was radiant. “Pregnant? You’re going to have a baby?”

Padmé smiled. “That’s generally what being pregnant means,” she teased. “And he’s your baby, too.”

Anakin’s smile was beatific. I’m gonna be a father – Force, I am a father! “Wait a minute – he? How do you know it’s a boy?”

Padmé grinned. “I don’t… for sure. But I hope.”

“How long have you been pregnant?”

Padmé stared at Anakin. “You know what today’s date is, and you know what day we were married. You do the math.”

“Two months? You’ve been pregnant for two months, and you didn’t tell me?”

“I didn’t know for sure until a month ago. Then, I wanted to wait for the trip home from the negotiations to tell you so that we could celebrate after work.”

“Oh.” Good one, Skywalker, Anakin thought. That sounded inane.

“Mm. I’m due early next spring.”

“Around my birthday?” Anakin asked hopefully.

“March, not April.”

Anakin grinned. “Okay, early birthday present.”

Padmé grinned back. “Maybe by then, Dan and Gil will have made some progress with the Jedi Council on the marriage issue.”

Anakin snorted and rolled his eyes. “Right, and the war will be over, too. Don’t think it’ll happen that quick, Pad.”

Padmé shrugged slightly. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” she said, quoting something Anakin had said before their marriage.

Anakin nodded. “Just for tonight, there’s no war or Jedi. Just you, me, and our baby.”

“Our baby boy,” Padmé corrected, grinning.

“Our baby boy,” Anakin grinned back.

Part 1 of an Interview

I recently had the chance to interview Lúthien Skywalker from Across the Stars, and this is the first part of that interview.
(Author's note: this whole interview is a little bit tongue-in-cheek.)

Sister and Brother: Lúthien and Luke Skywalker

Gwen: Hello, Lúthien. Welcome to my blog.

Lúthien: Hi, Gwen. Thanks for having me.

Gwen: Now, I know that you can’t tell our readers that much for fear of giving them too many spoilers, but I’m still going to ask you stuff that they’ll probably want to know.

Lúthien: Right. That’s okay. It’s your job to ask and my job to decide how to answer.

Gwen: (grins) Ho-kay. So, why did you start writing Across the Stars in the first place?

Lúthien: (laughs) Well, it all came about because of something one of my cousins said when we were kids. He joked that I had such a happening life that I ought to write about it. And I thought, “Oh man, that’s a great idea!” (laughter) So that’s how it all got started.

Gwen: And you’re letting me publish your books online for the first time on Earth. Why?

Lúthien: I wanted Earthlings to know our story.

Gwen: By “our story,” you mean your family’s.

Lúthien: Right. There’s so much in that story, and I wanted to share it.

Gwen: You’re the main author of the books, but not the only one, right?

Lúthien: Right. The other authors will remain anonymous for now.

Gwen: Okay, you’ve given me a lot of previews, and I’ve seen you write the thoughts and feelings of villains. How do you do that?

Lúthien: It’s usually guesswork, but I think it’s probably fairly accurate guesswork. If I know a particular person – what he does, how he does it, what his sense in the Force feels like – I can postdict how he thinks and feels.

Gwen: Postdict?

Lúthien: Yeah, my own made-up word. Postdict is predict in reverse.

Gwen: Star Wars exists already on Earth, but your version is very different. Why?

Lúthien: That’s a result of selling the Earth copyrights to the story. It’s kind of like those old Disney movies that are based off pre-existing books but the films themselves are really different.

Gwen: So your story is like those pre-existing books?

Lúthien: Yeah.

Gwen: What do you think about what they did to the story?

Lúthien: (shrugs) Some things I like, and some things I don’t. I got cut out of the story, and so did a lot of other people. Some people die that weren’t supposed to –

Gwen: Like Obi-Wan and Siri.

Lúthien: Right, like Obi-Wan and Siri… Why’d Siri have to get killed by Magus? She survived that little encounter – I mean, come on: she’s a great Jedi!

Gwen: Yeah, I never liked it that Siri’s killed.

Lúthien: Uh-huh. And some of the things that I did were – oops! I almost gave away spoilers! (laughs)

Gwen: Oh, we can’t have that!

Lúthien: Yeah! Don’t worry, people: you’ll find out someday!

Gwen: Now in the preview vid I posted on YouTube, I used Liv Tyler as a template for you. Because – man! – you really do look like her!

Lúthien: (smiling) I know, everybody says that! Yeah, our facial features are very similar. The differences lie in coloring – our eyes are pretty much the same shade, but that’s where it ends. My skin isn’t white – it’s like my dad’s. My hair was dark when I was little, but as I got older, it lightened a lot. It’s auburn, but it’s almost red.

Gwen: One time, you dyed it, right?

Lúthien: (laughs) Yeah. I cut it to shoulder-length and dyed it dark blond. I looked like the female version of my dad. The looks I got were priceless!

Gwen: Mind if I describe your voice to our readers?

Lúthien: Not at all – go ‘head!

Gwen: Well, sometimes your voice sounds husky like Anakin’s, and other times it sounds girlish like Padmé’s. And your accent sounds Midwestern American.

Lúthien: In my Galaxy, that accent’s called Corellian. Actually, since I spent the first three years of my life on Coruscant, my native accent is Coruscanti. But it shifted to Corellian, and now, I can just slip in and out of the two.

Gwen: Coruscanti on Earth is…

Lúthien: British.

Gwen: (nods) Okay. Now, in the stories, you usually refer to yourself as Lúthien, and that’s what everyone calls you. But Lúthien isn’t quite your full first name.

Lúthien: (shifts in her chair) Yeah, actually, my name is Lúthiené, with that special little Naboo “ay” sound at the end. But everyone still calls me Lúthien.

Gwen: You were named after Lúthien Tinúviel from The Silmarillion?

Lúthien: Yeah, my mom was a big Tolkien fan, and she loved the name “Lúthien.” It was my dad’s idea to add the extra “e”. I love being named after her, because for one, it’s such a pretty name. And two, she’s such a heroine. I mean, we’re talking about the only person to ever hold a sword to Sauron’s throat! She’s incredibly beautiful, amazingly brave, and undyingly loyal. That’s my kind of girl!

Next up!
Part 2 of the interview - Lúthien never really grew up.

Notice on Updates

Just to let you let you know, I am a prolific writer. And summer is the busiest time of year for me. So, I can't update this new book as often as I'd like. But I do hope to update every two weeks at longest. If you have already read the prologue and wonder what will happen next to the Skywalkers - seeing as how I've stranded a pregnant Padmé on an uninhabited world - please just be patient and hang in there. I want get this story published probably more than anyone will ever want to read it.

Teaser Summary

The Rising Sun

A secret, a separation, a crash, a tragedy... can Anakin's and Padmé's recent marriage survive? So soon after their marriage, a terrible tragedy pushes their relationship to the breaking point.

There is hope for the family in the future, if only they can survive this...

Time: 23-2 BBY, starts 2 months after Episode II

Genre: Part One is Action, Angst, Romance; Part Two is Romance, Family, Comedy

Rating: Part One is PG for tragedy

The Rising Sun - Prologue

The Rising Sun

Dramatis Personae

Anakin Skywalker
A 19-yr.-old Jedi Padawan with the largest midi-chlorian count on record, the most gifted Force-sensitive in history as a result. He's a hotshot at the helm of anything that flies, and a mechanic who can fix anything, including his own mechno right arm. He is secretly, illegally married to Senator Amidala.

Padmé Amidala Skywalker
A 24-yr.-old Senator, representing her native planet Naboo as well as the Chromell Sector after serving 2 terms as the Queen of Naboo. She's a gifted speaker, and a passionate philanthropist. She is the secret wife of Anakin Skywalker.

Obi-Wan Kenobi
A 35-yr.-old Jedi Knight, mentor of Anakin Skywalker. He's a great pilot who hates to fly, and an excellent diplomat who prefers to stay out of others' troubles, as he has enough of his own with his unruly Padawan. Once as unruly himself as Anakin, he is now one of the most orthodox Jedi alive.

Ruwee Naberrie
A retired professor from Theed University, father of Senator Amidala. Anakin still had to ask Ruwee for permission to marry Padmé, permission that Ruwee readily granted, despite the secrecy of the arrangment.

Jobal Naberrie
Ruwee's wife, Padmé's mother. She's spent the past ten years of her life worrying over the safety of her younger daughter, and is grateful that Padmé now has someone to take care of her.

Sola Naberrie
Older sister of Padmé, married to Darred Janren, and mother of 2 boys and 2 girls. Both her boys are "hopefuls" in the Jedi Temple, and her elder daughter Ryoo is an adoption. Sola is excited about her "baby sister's" marriage, and she had even tried to play matchmaker before the wedding.

Dormé
Padmé's right-hand handmaiden and decoy. Dormé is very devoted to her Lady, and is dedicated to helping protect the Skywalker secret.


Siri Tachi
A 33-yr.-old Jedi Knight, and special friend of Obi-Wan Kenobi. Siri is a very unorthodox Jedi, and consequently a good friend of Anakin's, as well. She was trained by former Council member Adi Gallia.

Lúthien Skywalker
The firstborn child of Anakin and Padmé Skywalker. A little baby, probably with a vast potential.

Prologue

The Crash

“Hold on tight, Padmé!”

Padmé nodded wordlessly, gritted her teeth, and clutched at the armrests of her seat until her knuckles were white. She forced her eyes to stay open though reflex told her to squeeze them shut.

Sweat broke out on Anakin’s face. His hands clenched the steering yoke of the shuttle so tightly that the servos in his mechno arm protested. His grip on the Force was heightened by his fear, and he called upon the Force to hold the ship relatively steady as it veered down to the planet’s surface in crash collision.

The atmosphere buffeted them hard. Thank God that the inertial compensator, unlike most of the ship’s systems, hadn’t failed. If it had, he and Padmé would have been crushed by now.

Padmé. So recently his wife. He was her guardian – he had to protect her. To save her from any and every danger.

His grip on the Force slipped and the shuttle careened. He desperately tried to grab hold of it again, but it was too late. The mountains filled the viewport.

“Anakin!” Padmé cried. Her hand flew instinctively to her still-flat abdomen.

“Hold on!” he repeated.

As Padmé seized the armrests again, her eyes squeezed shut, not in fear now but in desperate prayer. Father in Heaven, keep us safe! Keep us safe! Keep us safe...

“We’re almost there!” Anakin gritted out.

The ground rushed up to meet them violently, and their crash-webbing could not hold them in. Both were hurled forward at the control consoles, and their world went black.

Pain was the first thing he was aware of. His body was full of pain. It seemed that every muscle and bone in his body ached. His mechno arm was strangely numb. Something warm and wet plastered his forehead, where a sharp pain throbbed.

He opened his eyes and groaned. The protective shell of his right arm was gone, shattered by the crash’s impact.

The next thing that he saw was that he was gracelessly spread out over the console. Then he tilted his head just enough to see Padmé – she was spread out over the console, too. Only, she was still unconscious.

“Padmé?” he tried. His voice was shaky. He pushed himself up, grimacing as he realized that not only did his bones ache, but also his left collarbone was fractured. Oh, this is good.

“Padmé.” Still no answer. She was out.

The cockpit was a mess – it looked literally as though a tornado had run through it. Damaged equipment lay between him and Padmé, who was only about four feet away. Slowly, carefully, he pulled himself onto and over the twisted pile, his collarbone protesting cruelly. He eased over to her side and…

Blast! If I lift her, my shoulder is going to go. He clenched his damaged right hand into a durasteel fist. Okay, okay, just use the Force.

He reached out for the Force and directed it towards his wife. Her body slowly rose off the console, and backward into his right arm. She sagged into him, her head lolling up to face him. Blood snaked out of the right corner of her open mouth. Her whole left cheek was one blackish-purple bruise. Anakin winced. This was probably nothing compared to the time that that nexu had ripped her back open in the Geonosian arena, but… Wounded was wounded

“Padmé,” he said again. He kissed her. “Padmé,” he said louder, “it’s time to wake up.”

Her body shuddered before her eyes fluttered open. “Ani,” she whispered in a shaky breath. She frowned and feebly reached up to his face. “Your forehead. It’s covered with blood.”

“Just a cut,” he assured her. Blood… I should have known it was blood.

“My chest… hurts. Ribs… I think a couple are broken.” She coughed, and cried out in pain. Oh yeah, they’re broken, all right. Sudden fear lanced through her heart. Oh no! The baby!

Anakin instantly sensed it. “What’s wrong?” he demanded.

Padmé tried to damp down her fear. He’ll be okay, he’ll be okay, he’ll be okay… “It’s nothing. I’m just – worried.”

Anakin frowned, clearly not reassured, but he let it go as he looked up and around. “I’ve gotta get you outta here. This thing is gonna blow soon. I’ll get you out, then I’ll get out the emergency packs.”

“Make sure you get my travel case,” Padmé urged.

Travel case? “Padmé, the emergency packs are a little more important than your wardrobe.”

“Anakin!” Her voice was sharp – she’d never spoken to him like that before. He wasn’t even sure that he’d ever even heard her use that tone. Just as his temper was about to rise, he realized something. Her sense in the Force radiated fear. “Please,” she pleaded softly, “just trust me. Do as I say.”

Anakin nodded, confused inside. He supposed that he’d just never understand women, just like Gilraen Starrider had said. “Can you stand?”

“I think if you’re helping me…”

With the help of the Force on Anakin’s part and prayer on Padmé’s, the young couple managed to make it about a hundred meters from the shuttle. Padmé rested on a fallen tree while Anakin quickly retrieved her travel case and the emergency packs. He had to make two trips, and as he left the hatch the second time, he felt a surge of warning in the Force. He broke into a dead run, and made it about halfway to Padmé before the shuttle exploded. The force of the blast blew him down to the ground.

“Anakin!” Padmé’s scream was lost in the roar of the fire.

She felt a sudden reassurance in the Force. I’m okay. I’ll come when it’s safe for me to get up.

Padmé nodded to her husband’s telepathy, and then remembered that he couldn’t see the gesture. Be careful.

She felt a telepathic boyish grin, and had to smile in reply. Aren’t I always?

As long as Anakin was safe, Padmé had to get in the playful last word. No comment.

The whole galaxy could be exploding around them, just so long as Anakin was still okay. That was all that mattered. Well, that, and then the other…