Return of the Sith

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Lucasfilm, Ltd. No money is being made and no infringement is intended. Suing me really isn't worth it; I am but a poor starving college student with little to her name. And all I intend for this story is to toss it out there where maybe, just maybe, someone will enjoy reading it.

Author's Note: This is the first fanfic I've written in an age and a half. I'm out of practice, and I thought writing this would help me get back into things. It's not exactly epic, but there are a few interesting twists for those of you who are fond of alternate storylines. "Return of the Sith" takes place in a time when Qui-Gon Jinn survived the battle with Darth Maul and has been exiled by the Jedi council, among other things.

"Return of the Sith"
by Christine Anderson
Also posted under the name Gillean Steel

It was near to nightfall on the planet Naboo. In the last moments of hazy sunlight, Amidala Naberrie walked slowly along the outermost edge of the palace gardens. From a distance, she could hear the laughter of children, and the soft rushing of the waterfalls. The city of Theed seemed as always a place of peace, of calmness. Though it had not been long since their peace had been shattered.

Walking beside her in the gardens, leaning ever so slightly upon her arm, was the Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn. They walked in silence, neither wanting to speak nor wishing to be alone.

With a sigh, Amidala sat upon an ornately carved stone bench to the side of the garden path. The Jedi Master paused and turned to face her, his cloak dusting the stone pathway he stood upon. His gaze fell upon the young queen, and lingered there. He might have spoken, but gasped in sudden pain.

Amidala winced. The wounds he had suffered in the defense of her world- in defense of her -had healed as much as they were ever likely to, but he was still often plagued by pains such as these, pains that came without warning. The Naboo had done all they could for the Jedi Master in the years since he'd been injured, and indeed it was only as a result of their help that he had recovered as much as he had, but still Amidala wished they could have done more.

Without another thought, she sprang to her feet and took his arm, drawing him towards the bench.

"Thank you, Your Highness," the Jedi Master said.

A smile quirked at the corners of Amidala's mouth; she tried and failed to hide it. "All that you have done for this world, and yet you still stand upon ceremony. But I cannot allow an injured man to stand while I sit. A queen I may be, but I refuse to fall victim to the thoughtless arrogance so often associated with royalty."

"Your Highness, if you only knew how often I do not stand upon ceremony..." Qui-Gon smiled somewhat wryly.

Amidala returned the smile with the same feeling behind it, having seen the attitudes of the other Jedi towards this one of their number when they had come for what they presumed would be his funeral, not all that many years ago. She had seen what might have been regret upon their faces when they learned that he lived still, feelings they let show because they thought no eyes were upon them.

And indeed no eyes had been, save hers. She might have been a queen, but she was a queen who was accustomed to clinging to the shadows when she chose, and could remain silent and hidden far better than many who knew her might ever suspect.

Including the Jedi Master, who had in the years since the Battle of Naboo become a dear and true friend to her. As for what she had seen and heard that day, she was determined that her friend would never know of it, unless she found it was absolutely necessary to tell him. The Jedi carried far too much upon his shoulders already, and she would not add to its weight unless she had to.

"Please, Master Jinn. My name is Amidala. Your Highness and the Queen have been left behind in the throne room, and may they stay there until they are needed again. Beyond that single room, I wish very much to be simply Amidala."

He nodded, and the look in his eyes was one of understanding. "Amidala? Not Padme?"

She laughed softly. "No. Padme is- an alter ego, of sorts. She is who I once became when I sought an escape. None outside of my handmaidens and Captain Panaka knew. Sabe helped me to carry out the ruse." She paused shortly after speaking the name of the handmaiden who had been friend as well as near- identical stand-in, and who had fallen in a senseless attack not all that long ago. "And yet even in handmaiden's garb, I still hid who and what I was. I find that life of fiction... distasteful."

"It is no crime to wish to be yourself, Amidala. Though for a Queen, I must say it is a bit more difficult."

"That it is, sir. That it is. But I am determined to see it happen one day, nonetheless."

"Then one day it will happen," Qui-Gon replied. "I know you to be a rather- determined young woman."

"Stubborn might be more accurate, though determined is more tactful." She paused. "You need not be tactful, Master Jinn, and in fact I would prefer it if you were not. There are too many already who would tell me what they think I wish to hear, rather than the truth."

She has such great wisdom for one so young, he thought. Aloud, he said, "Then the truth is what you shall have, Amidala. And, please- only my padawans must call me Master."

"Very well," she replied, smiling broadly, a sparkle in her brown eyes like a gemstone amid dark soil. She extended a slim hand, still smiling. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Qui-Gon. My name is Amidala."

He smiled, took her hand, and kissed it. "The pleasure is mine."

"I-" Amidala began, but never went any farther. Approaching footsteps made her pause, frozen with shock. Who had dared intrude upon her here, when she had only moments ago begun to feel truly safe? Who had dared to defy her command, spoken as the Queen, to leave her be for this one day alone?

The footsteps drew closer, and a blue-robed figure came into view. Senator Duncan Palpatine, Naboo's representative to the Galactic Senate. He smiled at her, a smile with more tension than warmth behind it. Something was wrong, that much was clear.

"Your Highness," Palpatine said with a graceful bow.

She nodded in greeting. "Senator."

"You're looking well, Your Highness."

Amidala smiled, though she still had the sense that there was something wrong. Something in the Senator's expression... "Spare me the 'Highness's, Duncan, at least until the Queen returns. Please?"

Palpatine smiled. "Certainly, child." He and the Jedi exchanged knowing looks. "Oh, I do apologize, old friend- have you been introduced to this fascinating young woman? Her name is Amidala..."

Amidala shook her head, stifling a laugh behind hands that shook. "Between the two of you, I believe the gods can rest assured that I will never loose my good humor. Now, then. Duncan-" Then her voice faltered, and failed her, because she had it. The strange expression, barely visible at all even to one who knew him as well as she, was fear. He was afraid, and she had rarely, if ever, seen him afraid. Even when the Trade Federation had shattered the peace of Naboo and threatened their very way of life, even then he had not seemed the least bit afraid. Oh, he might have been, but there had been no visible sign of it.

Qui-Gon noticed immediately the change in Amidala, the shift from smiling young woman to somber queen, and puzzled over it. A mere girl one moment, a Queen the next. After a moment of consideration he amended his thoughts. No, not a mere girl... not at all. Something about her makes her far more than that.

"I fear I have grave news, my lady," Duncan Palpatine said quietly.

A glimmer of Amidala showed through the mask of the Queen, and was just as quickly gone. "Perhaps you should see the Queen about that."

He smiled again, a smile that was dazzling and captivating- a smile which made him seem not even half his true age, and, with a gallantry that surprised Amidala, offered her his arm. "I'm afraid that I must see the Queen, my dear. Would you walk with me, Your Majesty?"

In answer she took his arm, and together they moved along path that wound its way through the extensive palace gardens.

"Firstly, I must tell you that I had feared for your safety when you returned here from Courscant," Palpatine said. "Again."

There had been brief stirrings of trouble during her time on Coruscant, news of minor incidents upon other worlds. But she, in what she supposed might have been termed naivety by some, had assumed that such troubles could never come to Naboo. Not again, at least. Palpatine had warned her otherwise, but she had not wanted to listen.

"I know. You thought I was taking a foolish chance with my life."

"You were." The senator's two words fell like stones tossed into a once-tranquil pool, sending shockwaves and ripples spinning out in their wake.

"I- What did you say?"

Palpatine looked at her directly, concern clear as crystal in the deep blue of his eyes. "You were, and are still, in grave danger." He paused. "And I cannot tell you what relief I feel, to see you well and unharmed."

"What word reached you while I was away, Senator, that you worried so for my return?"

"I have been told of threats made against you, threats which concern me greatly. There is evidence enough to indicate that these should be taken seriously."

"I believe I've proven that I can take care of myself," Amidala replied with a smile. "Things here are quiet."

Palpatine sighed. "It is but the calm before the storm. I, and many others, had greatly hoped that the worst of the troubles were behind us now, but-"

"But they are not, are they?" she asked quietly.

Sadly, the senator shook his head. "If even half of what I have been told is true, then no, my Queen, they are not."

She nodded, pursing her lips, looking thoughtful. "Tell me of the threats, Senator."

Palpatine winced, and when he spoke, it was with great hesitation. "The death of your handmaiden, Sabe..."

The queen winced sharply, and for an instant the smooth mask of leadership cracked, providing Palpatine a brief glimpse of a deep and bitter grief, grief tinged with a sharp, burning guilt. His heart wept with sympathy for the girl, for he knew that look all too well, and had worn it himself more often than he cared to remember. She was too young, not for leadership itself, but for the burdens it would place upon her. Burdens such as that one. We stole her childhood, he thought sadly, because we needed her, and there was no other to take her place. What we needed of you, you gave without second thought. But oh, my dear, my dearest Amidala, what of the cost? What of the cost to yourself?

Even for a Naboo queen, she had been chosen young. But of the candidates, she had been the best by far, and even he had seen that, watching from a distance, for he dared not get too close. In the end it was clear to all of them that she, and only she, would do. And so they'd made her Queen. She had been pleased with the results of the election, as any would be pleased, but when she found him wandering the palace gardens after she'd been given the news, she had turned to him, Duncan Palpatine, Senator of the Naboo, and whispered, "I almost wish that I had lost."

Duncan had wanted to comfort her like the sad, lost child she seemed to be then, but already there were lines between them, between Amidala and the Naboo. She was no longer simply a precocious youth with a needle-sharp intelligence and a will of steel. She was his Queen. It changed nothing, and it changed everything.

He knew he needed go no farther then; she knew. Her words only confirmed that.

"Sabe...was killed because she played a part, and played it all too well." Amidala gazed up at the senator, the quiet wisdom in her eyes reminding him that she was older than she seemed, in her twenties now. "Because they thought she was me."

"Yes. I- am deeply sorry, Your Majesty."

"Go on," she said almost sharply. "Go on..."

"Those who killed Sabe, also sought out the rest of the handmaidens. Once they realized that they had failed the first time... Somehow they knew that you had occasionally hidden among their number-" At her startled look he paused. "My dear, I knew you in the years before you were Queen. And you have not changed so very much that I did not recognize you."

"But you said nothing."

"No, I did not. I said nothing to you, nor to anyone else. I saw what you were doing and I understood it. I left you in peace there, as much as I could."

"I... Thank you, Senator."

"Your Highness, the handmaidens were sought out because of what their attackers knew." He paused, a frown of concentration crossing his face. "There was, I believe, one survivor."

"Eirtae," Amidala replied. "I have spoken with her at length, as has Captain Panaka. She remembers nothing of her attackers, though she is haunted by the memories of seeing her friends fall."

"Does she know that it was you who saved her, Your Highness?"

Memory overtook her, the garden fading. Barely visible through the smoky air left in the wake of numerous blaster shots, were the still forms in the brilliant-colored dress of her handmaidens, in sharp relief against the courtyard's paving stone.

"Your Highness, please," Captain Panaka spoke quietly from somewhere behind her. He reached out to take her arm, but she shoved him aside.

"I must do this," she replied just as quietly, shifting her two-handed grip upon her blaster. "You trained me well, Captain."

Amidala, on hands and knees, slipped through bushes and under the shadows of trees, inching her way towards the nearest of the still figures, who even as she watched drew a shallow, trembling breath.

She moved quickly towards the figure, with pained glances at the others whom she could not save now. "Eirtae," she said softly, and was rewarded with a quick look of recognition before the handmaiden passed out in her arms. Amidala carried her to safety, and then she was running, the sound of her footsteps pounding upon the paving stones, screaming for her guards, for Panaka and Voyles, the medic...

"Your Highness?"

Amidala blinked. She opened her eyes, unaware she had closed them, to find Palpatine studying her with obvious concern. "She knows," the queen whispered.

"Are you well, my queen?"

"The Queen of the Naboo must be well, even if she is not," Amidala replied softly. "She must lead even when she is afraid, stand in the defense of her people even it would be easier to do the opposite."

"That is quite true, Your Highness. But few Queens have taken such- direct action, at such great personal risk."

"You disapprove, Senator?"

"No. I fear for you. The Naboo can ill afford to loose you, Your Highness. You are beloved among them, more so now because you played such a great part in the defense of our world. But no Queen has ever fallen in battle. Had you become the first, our enemies would have considered it a great victory, no matter the outcome of the battle."

"I know," Amidala said. "But I could not sit idle with Naboo in such danger. Nor could I leave my handmaidens, my friends, to their fate when there was the chance that I could save even one."

"Of all Naboo's queens, my dear, I believe you to be the most brave. And it is not only the people who would so deeply grieve for you upon your death."

"Would you weep for me, Senator? For your Queen?"

"For the Naboo, I would weep for the death of a Queen. For myself, I would mourn the loss of a dear and beloved friend."

Deeply moved by his words, by their raw honesty, it took her several long moments before she was able to speak. "You honor me, Senator."

"On the contrary. It is I who am honored, my dear."

She smiled softly, but beneath that smile, she felt her world turned upside-down. She had in the past sensed that he was not telling her the whole and entire truth, that there were things he had kept from her. And she had almost distrusted him for that, but now she thought she understood his evasions. In the past he had lied or told her falsely, only to protect her. And only, she realized now, before I was Queen. Lies could, after all, protect the girl and perhaps not do her that much harm. But to a queen the truth must be spoken, no matter that it might pain her to hear it.

"Senator..."

Palpatine smiled again, and shook his head. "I do apologize, my dear. It seems I forget myself, and one thing you certainly do not need is to be forced to listen to an old man's sentimental nonsense."

"It is hardly that, my friend." Amidala paused, her thoughts returning suddenly to the here and now. "Yet however much I enjoy the pleasure of your company, I know that your time is precious, and that there is something more you would speak of to me."

She possesses such startling insight, for one so young, the senator thought, and he chose his words with care. So often I think that there are things she will not grasp, and yet she sees them immediately. Again I must remind myself that she is no child, that she is not so young as she seems. And that, of course, she is wise beyond her years. As was her mother.

"You know me well, Your Highness."

I know you, Senator, but there are pieces of you hidden from me, sides to you I have not seen. Yet we all have our secrets, and you certainly are not alone in that. "Of course," the Queen said, favoring him with a genuinely warm yet still somehow regal smile. "We have long been friends, you and I, have we not?"

"We have indeed, Your Highness. I regret, however, that it is a serious and urgent matter that brings me to you now. I know that you wished to be left alone today, and I would respect your wishes in this matter if I could." He hesitated, then continued on. "I have told you that your life is in danger. What I have not said is that yours is not the only one."

"No, but it wouldn't be, would it?" Amidala asked. "To truly hurt me, an enemy would also have to hurt those I care for, those my duty, and my own heart, demand I protect. The people."

Oh, child... if only we were not who we were, I would weep with you at this news, Palpatine thought. But somehow, I think you know that.

"Yes, Your Majesty. The people."

A sudden fear, nameless but terrible, crossed over her. Somehow Amidala managed to keep her voice steady as she replied. "Please, my friend. I must know, I must know everything that you know. Beginning with who you believe is behind this- or who will be."

"The Sith, my queen. The Sith rise against us. I have learned that the Sith killed by the two Jedi was but the Apprentice. The Master lives still."

The apprentice. They had faced only the apprentice. And that battle, as she had so clearly seen, had been a very near thing. She shuddered at the thought of what might have taken place had they faced the Master instead.

But Palpatine was going on. "The Sith Master, whom my sources tell me calls himself Darth Sidious, is here, on Naboo."

"Here?" she gasped, but quickly regained her composure.

"Yes," he replied. "And, my Queen- it was the Sith who ordered the attack upon your handmaidens."

"Are you certain?" Her voice was as he had never heard it before, cold and strong, like chilled steel. She had never reminded him so much of her mother.

Oh yes, my dear... my poor, dear child. Yes, I am certain. And I would give anything to change that. Palpatine nodded gravely. "I am more certain than I could ever have hoped or wanted to be." The tone of his voice was terribly sad, as if he alone knew the secret of some deep tragedy which she could only guess at.

Almost entirely unaware she was doing it, the young queen rested a hand upon the senator's shoulder, in a gesture of silent support. "Then you are certain, my friend- and I will not ask how it is that you know this thing." How could I, seeing clearly how much it would pain you to explain in detail? You would, if I asked, but I will not unless I must. "The Apprentice alone was nearly more than we were capable of standing against. Surely the Master is a matter for the Jedi Council. Have you contacted them?"

"I have tried, Your Highness. But the Jedi are concerned with many other things- things they no doubt consider to be far more important than our trivial problems."

Inwardly, Amidala sighed. Damn the Jedi Council, anyway. The fools were so busy with their own affairs, whatever those might be, that they failed to see anything beyond them. This same council, of course, had said only a few short years ago that better it might have been had Qui-Gon Jinn died. And perhaps, better too had the Trade Federation not failed in their efforts. Amidala found she was not sure that she would have taken their help had it been offered.

"If this problem is a trivial one, Senator, I am loath to see its opposite."

"As am I, Your Majesty."

Amidala nodded. "We can expect no help from that quarter, then. Very well; so be it. We have done more with less." She gestured, and the senator and the queen began moving back towards where they had left the Jedi Master, with the queen speaking quietly into the Senator's ear. "Here is what we will do..."

* * *

They stood before her in the Queen's rooms, the small and somewhat unlikely band of allies who had over the course of the past few years become her closest and dearest friends. She had trusted each with her life upon numerous occasions, and would not hesitate to do so again. These were troubled times for the Republic, and Amidala had found that she could place her faith, her trust, in only a rare few- in these few. Once, there had been others, but every last one save these few was gone now, all of them destroyed and only a small number of those still living. She missed the others terribly- Sabe in particular- but was grateful for those with her still.

First among them was Qui-Gon Jinn, Jedi Master in exile. Since the Battle of Naboo, he had been something of a permanent fixture in the Theed Palace. The Council had made it clear that they did not wish to see him again in their presence, and the maverick Jedi Master had made it just as clear that he had no real desire to return to them. In the years following the battle, he had become a trusted advisor, and often served as peacekeeper within the Queen's Council of Advisors.

Beside Qui-Gon, watching over him as a son might his ailing father, was the Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi. He had been Qui-Gon's apprentice when she met him. Obi- Wan had been more outspoken then, quicker to speak up and to act without thinking. He'd been almost reckless then, but now possessed the same quiet sense of thoughtfulness and calm that his former Master had. Somewhat more tolerable to the Jedi Council than Qui-Gon, he came and went as he pleased, but he, too, spent the bulk of his time on Naboo. Amidala had quickly come to appreciate his youthful wisdom and energy both, and in truth the once-brash young Jedi was very dear to her, perhaps dearer than he knew.

Young Anakin Skywalker stood, shifting slowly from one foot to the other, beside Obi-Wan. He had changed a great deal since Amidala had seen him last, appearing somewhat older now. But she was not as comfortable around this boy as she had been the child Qui-Gon had aided on the desert planet called Tatooine. He had not returned to Naboo in years, and in fact this was the first time Amidala had seen him since the days following the Battle of Naboo. And those years had not been kind to Anakin. Despite their promises to Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, the Jedi Council had insisted no one be allowed to train the boy. Amidala had expected Anakin's training to change him, but was unprepared for the fact that his lack of training would change him far more. He was brash, and more reckless than Obi-Wan had ever seemed. For reasons Amidala could neither entirely understand, nor discard out of hand, she no longer trusted the boy. While the Jedi were calm, tranquil, Anakin was something altogether different. She found that difference greatly troubling.

Beside the door stood Captain Panaka, the queen's sworn protector. Even here amongst her allies, he took no chances with his ruler's safety. He would not let his guard down, determined not to fail her as he believed he had failed the handmaidens. Panaka was a career soldier born on a world of peace, and though he was a skilled fighter and knew it well, he fought always with a reluctance rather native to the Naboo. None of them had ever wanted to fight, but many, like Panaka, like Amidala, recognized the occasional necessity of it. Like as not, some things must be done.

Nearest Panaka, where he could easily protect her, was Eirtae. Of all the handmaidens, she had been the one nearest to invisible. Eirtae was shy, painfully so, and had served Amidala from the shadows as often as not. Because of this, the Queen had not known her well, certainly not as well as any of the others, prior to their deaths. With Eirtae being the last of them, Amidala found herself turning to the other young woman as often as she once would have turned to Sabe. Eirtae still seemed very uncomfortable being in the thick of things. She was not likely to speak up much at this meeting, somewhat uncomfortable as she was in the presence of such august personages as the Senator and the two Jedi.

At Amidala's shoulder was Senator Duncan Palpatine. Grave and somber in his robes of deepest blue, the look in his eyes was one that went beyond pain. It was clear to Amidala and the others that this was a great personal tragedy for him. A well-respected scholar of history and of Jedi lore, Palpatine had aided the Jedi Council in their search for the Sith. Or rather, he had tried to. But despite his wisdom, despite his knowledge of things that even the Council did not know, they refused to accept his aid, deciding, in their arrogance and pride, that they did not require the aid of one who was not sensitive.

He knew the Sith as no one else outside of that mysterious sect, and yet the Council refused to so much as consider accepting his offer of help. Instead they had smiled, and patronized, and thanked him for his time...and then sent him away, back to the world of the bureaucrats, where he could do little to nothing of any real importance. The Senator was not a man accustomed to being tossed aside in this manner, particularly when he clearly had more than a working grasp of the subject at hand. But despite the claims of the Council, he had never sough to "presume" to tell the Jedi that he knew their history better than they.

Far from it, Palpatine thought now. I would 'presume' to tell them they are fools, Masters of the Force or no. I would tell them, if they would only listen.

Nearest to Senator Palpatine was Amidala. Naboo's queen was dressed not in the fine garments of silk and golden threads suitable for the throne room, but in the battle dress of her handmaidens, simple clothing of tunic, pants, and long, skirted overcoat, made of a lightweight, tightly-woven plum-colored fabric designed to absorb much of the energy from a blaster bolt. Ingenuitive thought on behalf of the court's designers had crafted that fabric to look very much akin to velvet- deceptively weak-seeming fabric, and certainly fine enough for a queen. In place of the usual silk slippers she wore tall black boots, and if truth be told found them a great luxury which she had often envied the handmaidens for.

Her hair was pulled back into a knot at the nape of her neck, and the expression upon her face was one of determination and courage. If any present sensed or recognized the very real fear beneath that, they kept such observations to themselves.

Her first words gathered them to her, and by the time she spoke the last of them, there was no doubt that she had their full attention.

"Senator Palpatine tells me we face a very grave threat- and that we cannot expect any aid from the Jedi Council, though both of us are agreed that, all things being equal, we should have that aid."

"All things are never equal, Your Highness," Palpatine said quietly from behind her.

The queen nodded. "But does that mean that they should not be?" She shook her head. "No, the Senator is right. Sit down, all of you; I fear this may take some time." She waited while they seated themselves, not wanting to speak again before they had done so.

"What threat?" asked Anakin.

All eyes in the room turned to look upon him with near to identical expressions of surprise, as if they had all but forgotten his presence.

"The Sith," Amidala said. "The one of their number who was killed in the Battle some years ago was but the Apprentice. The Master remains, and he is... here."

"Here, on Naboo?" Obi-Wan asked.

Amidala nodded. "Yes. So the Senator's sources tell him, and I have no reason to doubt him."

"Nor do I," Qui-Gon stated calmly. "And I presume, of course, Senator, that your offers of aid to the Jedi Council were politely, if somewhat patronizingly, rejected?"

"They were indeed," Palpatine told him. "I have long respected the Jedi for their wisdom, but-"

"The Council members are fools!" Anakin exclaimed. "And we don't need them. We took the apprentice, we can-"

"Anakin," Obi-Wan said. "If you'll recall, it took both Master Qui-Gon and myself to defeat the Apprentice- and we very nearly failed."

"But we're more powerful now than we were then, aren't we?" the boy asked Obi-Wan. "You're a Knight now, and I'm- stronger. Amidala can fight, and the old man-" the boy gestured here to the Senator, who smiled thinly "-isn't a bad shot, from what I've seen." He paused to take a breath, then rushed on. "We can do it, we can-!"

"I fear it is not so easy as that, child," Palpatine cut him off, speaking quietly and softly, but with the weight of accustomed authority behind his words, Anakin made no attempt to interrupt him again. "The Sith Master, Darth Sidious, is very powerful- perhaps more powerful than the bulk of your Council put together. It is their place to deal with this threat, and they may be the only ones truly capable of it."

"But they've left us to our fate," Eirtae interjected, hesitantly. She sounded angry, and Amidala could hardly blame her. Beneath her mask of royal calm, she was rather angry as well. "They heard what the Senator told them, but they didn't really listen. I don't understand that."

"Nor do I," Palpatine replied. "I wonder if anyone truly understands their motivations these days."

"I think," Obi-Wan spoke up, "that the Council is so far removed from the galaxy now that they don't see the things that happen to it in the same light that we do. It's sometimes very easy to turn a blind eye to the things that don't shatter the stability of your own little worlds. And it's easier to ignore things that you can pretend have no relevance for you."

"Like the way everybody ignores the slavery on Tatooine," Anakin said sullenly. "It's not their problem, and it's so far away..."

"Exactly," Obi-Wan said. "I can't tell you that it is fair or right- it's not, but it is the way of things these days."

Eirtae nodded. "But in this case..." She paused, as if searching for the right words. "If you will forgive me this, gentlemen-" here she nodded respectfully to the Jedi "-they are fools not to care about our plight. They themselves are far more of a threat to this Sith Master than we are- and even if they don't care to stop him, he won't know that- or even believe it if he does learn of it."

Palpatine nodded. "Just so, child. If we fail to destroy the Sith, he will eventually go on to challenge the Council. Will they care, I wonder, when the troubles of the galaxy fall upon their own doorstep?"

"Not unless they happen to trip over them," Obi-Wan said under his breath. The others might have expected Qui-Gon to make some comment on this blatantly disrespectful remark, and the fact that he did not spoke volumes. Perhaps none of the others truly took notice of this, but the Jedi Master felt Palpatine's gaze fall across him and linger there a moment, and knew that the Senator, at least, had grasped the significance of what hadn't been said.

"So," Amidala said. "We can expect no help from the Council. We're in agreement that they are fools not to send that aid, but that's beside the point. We will have no help from them, nor, I suspect, from many others, if any."

"Perhaps the Gungans-" Panaka began, but Amidala shook her head.

"The Gungans would make an amusing distraction for the Sith, and I think that he would enjoy their destruction. He would also, I'm sure, make very short work of them."

"All too easily, Your Highness," Palpatine told her.

Amidala nodded. "The Gungans have done enough- more than enough. Let them sit this one out."

"They'd at least distract him," Anakin said. "Maybe we could-"

"I do not want them involved in this." She turned to Obi-Wan. "Not a word of this to Jar Jar, please. They will want to help, and they will try, but... they would be slaughtered."

The young Jedi nodded. "You're right, of course. We'll deal with it, somehow."

Palpatine nodded, slowly. "At the very least, we will try."

Amidala turned to face him, a question unspoken in the depth of her eyes. "Senator- are you saying that we may fail?"

"Surely that does not surprise you, my lady? We will try, and yet-"

"Senator," Obi-Wan spoke up almost hesitantly. "Master Yoda has a saying. 'Do, or do not. There is no try.'"

Palpatine smiled ruefully. "Yes, I know."

"You know?" the young man asked.

"Yes. You are not the first Jedi to repeat Yoda's words of wisdom to me, young one."

Obi-Wan seemed to bow in his chair. "Ah, I see."

"And I tell you that we will do our best, but I can promise you little else," the Senator continued.

"But we can do it," Anakin insisted feverently. "The Sith is just one person, and there are six of us. We can take him without a lot of trouble."

"Overconfidence is a great weakness, young Skywalker," Palpatine told him. "One I'm sure our enemy has many ways to exploit."

Amidala, slightly annoyed with the boy, held her irritation in check as best she could when she spoke to him. "At the moment, Anakin, we are trying to figure out exactly what it is we are dealing with here, and the best way to fight him, among other things. Before we can truly know how difficult or easy it will be to best him, we must study our own resources and learn something of his. Do you understand?"

"Yes, but-"

"But nothing. If you wish to help us, you may stay, but if all you plan to do is interrupt with childish fancies, I'm going to ask you to leave. We haven't time for games, Anakin."

The boy looked to the Jedi as if seeking support, but if that was what he was looking for, he didn't find it. Both Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon studied him silently, their faces expressionless. Anakin turned away from them, his glance sweeping across a stoic Panaka, silent Eirtae, and a motionless Senator Palpatine. None of them spoke or moved an inch, but their lack of expressions screamed as loudly as anything could their agreement with Amidala in this matter.

Anakin nodded. "Yes, Your Highness." He settled back in his seat quietly, eyes meekly downcast, gazing at his folded hands.

Palpatine raised an eyebrow at Amidala, who shook her head, some unspoken communication passing between the two. Amidala returned her attentions to the rest of the gathering, her eyes seeking out and finding Panaka.

"Captain," she said. "Send word to the kitchens for food and drink for all of us to be brought here. We have a great deal of work to do, and we will not be able to pause to eat."

Panaka nodded. "Yes, Your Highness."

"Then, fetch the maps from the war room. I believe our first priority should be to determine where on Naboo the Sith Master is likely to be. We have the advantage of knowing our terrain, and by the time we face him I mean for us to know every inch of it, every tree and blade of grass."

Before the Trade Federation's invasion, the Theed Palace had not had a war room. They had not had need of one for generations. It was a thing they tried not to dwell on any more than they had to. What was, was.

Panaka bowed, and departed the room. Amidala turned then to Palpatine. "Senator, if you would be so kind as to fetch the books from your study- the histories particularly, and your own notes..."

The Senator nodded. "I think I see what you are after, Your Highness. Known thine enemy as you know your terrain." He stood and moved towards the door.

She turned her attentions to Eirtae. "The new maid you hired..."

"Yes, Your Highness?"

"She bears enough of a resemblance to me that she should do very well for what I have in mind. Find her, put her in handmaidens' garb- not battle dress, mind -and spirit her off to the throne room. Indicate to the servants that the Queen has just immerged from a very dull and unproductive council session; tell her to appear pensive, and give her something to read."

"A decoy, Your Highness?"

"Precisely. I would not put it past the Sith to have spies in the Palace, in which case I do not mean for him to know that I am meeting with the true council now. In fact- when you escort her to the throne room, you might make a point of mentioning that the Jedi had departed the planet, and the Senator was nowhere to be found..."

Eirtae nodded. "Consider it done, Your Highness." Picking up the cane that aided her these days in walking, she stepped towards the door. Midway there, she paused. "Perhaps young Anakin could accompany me? He could probably use the break before the real meeting starts." She smiled sympathetically at the boy, who shyly smiled back.

Amidala nodded. "A very good idea, Eirtae. Go on, both of you."

When the door closed for the last time behind Eirtae and Anakin, the young queen breathed a sigh of relief and stood from her chair, stretching her arms above her head. The two Jedi exchanged knowing looks, and the queen turned an amused gaze upon them.

"You certainly managed to get rid of them all quickly enough," Obi-Wan said.

"Nonsense. We truly will need the things I sent them for."

"The decoy was a wise idea," Qui-Gon told her, "but I've no doubt you would have also found a suitable errand to send Anakin off on as well, had he not gone with your handmaiden."

Obi-Wan nodded in agreement. "So. What's on your mind, Your Highness, that you can't say in front of them?"

"It's what I don't feel I should say in front of Anakin, actually... and not anywhere within his hearing, either."

At that, both Jedi sobered. "Go on," Obi-Wan said.

"He has- changed. And not, I think, entirely for the better. I know very little of the Force, but..." She shook her head. "The Senator has an understanding of it that I lack. He has never offered me an explanation, nor have I asked for one, but he has never been wrong in anything he has said to me."

"And he said something to you about Anakin." Qui-Gon made it a statement rather than a question, and Amidala's nod confirmed it.

"Yes. He has said, on numerous occasions, that the boy is dangerous. That with one so young, and so powerful, there is the potential for him to fall easily to the darkness."

Both Jedi nodded. "The Senator is correct in that," Qui-Gon told her. "Which is part of the reason I wished to train him. The training of those such as him must be handled very carefully, least the very thing you and the Senator fear come to pass. And if not myself, someone should be seeing t that. But the Council decreed none would be allowed to see to Anakin's training, and..."

"I wonder," Amidala said. "I do not like it, but I wonder...if they are so very unconcerned about the danger of a Sith Master possibly coming to stand on their very doorstep, would they notice if the boy they refused to train began to slip towards the dark?"

Their expressions were more than answer enough.

* * *

Anakin slipped away from the handmaiden with very little effort. Most of her attention was focused upon the maid standing before her, and the instructions she was giving. And since no one had specifically told Eirtae to keep an eye upon him, he doubted that she would. By the time she thought enough to miss him, he would be long gone.

Anakin stifled a laugh as he dashed down a corridor. boots skidding across marble and tile. Eirtae didn't know her job nearly as well as Sabe had known hers. Sabe had been able to read the Queen's wishes as much in what she was told as in what she wasn't. She'd have known that Amidala was suspicious of him- and she was, Anakin could sense that clearly. But he wouldn't need to worry about the handmaiden until the Queen had the time to speak to her alone.

He made his way quickly along the palace halls, his destination a side entrance used primarily by the servants- none of whom thought twice about the humbly dressed boy in their midst. He walked with a purposeful stride that proclaimed he had somewhere to be and something to do, and none of them thought to question him as he made for the door.

Anakin was only a few steps past that door when the cloaked figure came upon him. The man stood at the edge of a lengthening shadow, where an instant ago there had been nothing but fading light.

At length, the figure spoke.

"Young Skywalker."

The boy bowed. "Master."

"Has your absence been noticed?" the cloaked man asked.

"Not yet. The Queen's sent everyone on errands, and I slipped away from the handmaiden when she wasn't looking..."

The other nodded. "Good, good. This way, and quickly, before they do notice you've gone." Without another word he spun and began to move quickly away. Anakin followed without hesitation, as the dark-clad figure slipped from shadow to shadow, across the courtyard and out into the cobbled street beyond it.

"They know you're here," Anakin said as he caught up with the man.

From beneath the hood, he smiled thinly. "Do they, now. And do they fear yet?"

"They're planning how to defeat you, Master. The queen sent the old man, the Senator, for some of his books-"

The cloaked man laughed. "The Senator will not find his answers in books, child. Come along, now."

"I don't know," the boy said doubtfully as he trailed after him. "He seems to know a lot, more than the Jedi in some ways. And they trust what he tells them."

"He does not know enough to be a true threat, not yet. And he will never learn anything more, trust in that." The Sith paused, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "I presume the Senator is staying in the Palace, young one?"

"Yes, Master."

"Then here is what you will do. You will find his rooms for me- follow him when he leaves the meeting, if you can do so without being seen. Make certain you can find your way from those rooms to that door-" he gestured to the place where Anakin had exited the Palace "-and back again. For tonight you will take me there."

"You should deal with the Jedi first, Master," Anakin said.

But the Sith shook his head. "No. The Jedi would seem to be the more dangerous, true, but they are not. The Senator knows... the Senator knows far too much, my young apprentice, and I cannot risk that he will share what he knows with the Queen and her allies."

"So knowledge can make someone as dangerous as power?"

The Sith smiled. "Just so, my boy. Just so."

Anakin nodded. "Very well, Master." He hesitated, then went on. "I'd better get back now, before they wonder where I've gone."

His Master waved a negligent hand. "Go, then. But- do not fail me."

"I won't, Master," the boy promised. He bowed again, then turned and ran for the stairs and the door beyond them.

* * *

"-and I think in terms of a plan, that is the best we are going to come up with," Amidala was saying. "There is much we don't know, too much to plan anything more tonight."

Around the table there were nods of agreement; the others were as weary and tired as the Queen, physically and mentally exhausted and longing to seek their beds.

"Then if there's nothing else, I will bid you all goodnight. Sleep well, my friends. We have much to do on the morrow."

They rose and slowly filed out, each bidding a polite if slightly tired-sounding goodnight to Amidala. It wasn't until she began to gather her own things that she realized she was not, in fact, alone in the room.

"Amidala?"

She looked up then, giving Palpatine a tired smile. "Yes, Senator?"

"My dear, there is- something I feel I must tell you. I thought once that it might be better if you never knew, but seeing what we now face, this is something which I think you need to know."

She set her things aside and carefully met his gaze. "Yes? What is it?"

Palpatine sighed, but forced himself not to turn away from her. The least he could do was meet her gaze when he told her the truth. What he had told her was true; she did need to know. Not only that, but she deserved to know.

"The Sith Master, Darth Sidious..." He winced, as if the very words caused him physical pain. Amidala felt a strong desire to go and comfort him, but somehow she knew that would be the wrong thing to do. Better just to stand still and wait, to listen. "The Sith Lord is my brother, Lady. My twin."

It was done. He closed his eyes, unable to bear the sight of the compassion, the pity, in her expression. In a moment she would get past that, what he had said would hit home, and she would never look at him the same way again. But to his amazement, instead of the retreating footsteps and the sound of a slamming door he'd been expecting, he heard her footsteps come nearer, and then felt velvet softness enfold him as she embraced him.

"So that's it," she said softly. "That is how you understand this man so well, how you know so very much..."

"Yes. And I suppose now that you know, you will wish someone else to represent Naboo in the Senate-"

"Don't be ridiculous." She drew back only enough to look him in the eye, as if daring him to doubt the honesty of her words. "I would trust no other in your place, least of all now. And as you well know, times such as these are not the times to be making such great changes." She shook her head, reaching out to gather his books along with her own. "Thank you for trusting me with this."

Palpatine nodded. "I felt you had a right to know- and thought that perhaps the knowledge might be of some use to you. Let me get those, please," he added, reaching for the books.

Amidala shook her head. "I've got them; don't trouble yourself."

"Your Highness-"

"And don't argue, either. I'll walk you back."

* * *

Anakin crouched in the shadow of a potted plant off to one side of the corridor, watching as the Senator and the Queen exited the Queen's rooms. He had expected them to part here and go their separate ways, but they did not. Arm-in-arm, Palpatine and Amidala continued along the thickly-carpeted hall, the Queen carrying the Senator's books along with her own. By the low murmur of their voices, Anakin knew that they were speaking to one another, but he was not close enough to overhear, and dared not follow at a lesser distance. And their pace was slow enough- he assumed because the Senator was as close to exhausted as he looked -that it was not difficult to follow them.

As they made their way around a curve in the hall that would have taken them from his sight, Anakin followed, creeping from shadow to shadow, dodging out of the way of servants and others. Even if he were sighted, they would not think his presence unusual. If stopped or questioned, he had ready a lie that would- probably -pass muster. By the time they knew it for fiction, it would be too late.

With a resigned sigh, he realized that Amidala intended to walk the Senator all the way back to his rooms. If the Queen was with Palpatine when his Master came to dispatch the old man... Anakin shook his head. If she got in the way, if she tried to interfere, the Master would deal with it. Anakin was fairly sure he know how the Master would deal with it, but it was no concern of his.

And perhaps it would be for the best. She noticed far more than the Jedi Council, and as he had learned that day, sometimes what a person knew could prove very dangerous. He truly believed what he'd said to Amidala and the others earlier that day- that the Council members were fools. They were fools, as was Naboo's Queen- though she suspected, he thought, and they probably never would. The great Council would find out just how foolishly arrogant they'd been one day, on the day that Anakin's Master came to see them. He hoped very much to be granted the honor to witness that.

Perhaps if he proved very, very useful in aiding his Master's business on Naboo, he'd be allowed to help destroy the Council...

* * *

Darth Sidious approached his brother's rooms in the Theed Palace from another direction. After a bit of thought, he had decided that he did not trust his would-be apprentice with such a golden opportunity to make some mistake, intentionally or through carelessness, that might cost him this chance to be rid of his interfering twin. He did mean to test Skywalker's competence, as well as his loyalty, but not in such a way that his failure would cost the Sith Master something this important. No, the boy's test would be something else, something that did not require Sidious' personal attentions... something less critical, that could survive being inexpertly done.

Aside from which, he knew very well that Skywalker wanted to kill the Senator himself, perhaps to prove his worth to Sidious. He was pleased to see the extent of the boy's ambition, but this was neither the time nor the place for him to be given free rein with it. And the pleasure of killing Duncan Palpatine was one Sidious reserved for himself.

He, far more than the boy, was entitled to that. Sidious had earned that right, to take his brother's life. Years of torment, of listening to all those around him sing the praises of his brother, the brilliant scholar-Jedi Duncan, who could do no wrong. Duncan, who had everything his twin had ever wanted in the palm of his hand, and never seemed to appreciate it.

Duncan was brilliant, handsome, and independently wealthy. A self-made man and an idealist, who claimed his only true wish was to work for the betterment of the lives of those whose worlds he represented. All his life women had flocked to him in droves, as had men. Those who did not seek his favors or his bed trailed at his coattails, as if hoping some bit of his charm might chance to rub off on them. Lost amid the shadows cast by the hangers-on, and by his brother's own bright lights, was Sidious, born Stilvin Palpatine. The mostly redundant several- minutes-younger twin, who from the time Duncan had demonstrated Jedi potential and Stilvin had not, had been simply taking up space. His family no longer needed him- they had Duncan, who was going to make them all proud. Even his friends shifted their allegiance almost in the blink of an eye, and it seemed to those on the outside looking in that they had been Duncan's friends since birth. Of course, there did exist those fools who could not tell the twins apart, but still, it was one of a million ways Sidious felt he had been slighted because of his brother.

In the face of all of it Duncan pretended humbleness, humility. He played the reclusive scholar suddenly tossed into the limelight because he had demonstrated a rare ability, waving away would-be confidants and lovers with a negligent hand, saying over and over that he only wished to be left in peace, that he might return to his studies.

Stilvin was still uncertain when exactly he had begun to hate his brother, but he had always been jealous of him. In childhood the brothers had been very close, and even as they grew to adulthood, Duncan adored his brother. But Stilvin saw the rift forming between them, and made no move to stop it. He had been cheated, clear and simple, and it angered him to see his own brother claiming all the glory. His hatred, once begun, had not taken long to develop into a deep and complex mix of hate and obsession, dark-shaded feelings which awakened his own previously latent abilities.

And then his own teachers came to him- not Duncan's noble Jedi, but a strange and secretive society seeming to belong to an entirely different world. They had tested him in a million strange ways, throwing him into situations he never expected to encounter, and studying his reactions. Several moons of this, and one of them came to him with answers he had long sought, and an offer. That man had revealed himself to be of the Sith, and in time became Stilvin's master.

It had only been a few years ago, shortly after that disastrous business on Naboo begun, that Stilvin was finally strong enough to kill his Master, thus assuming his title. But it was a bittersweet victory, for he had lost his own newly-chosen Apprentice after barely having begun his training. And Maul had been exceptional, the kind of Apprentice Stilvin, now known only as Darth Sidious, had himself once been, the exact type that Masters sought long and hard to find.

And Duncan's fool Jedi had killed him. Rage filled the Sith Master's thoughts as he stalked along the corridor seeking his brother; rage directed not at the Jedi who'd killed the Apprentice, but at that worthy himself, at that boy who'd shown such great promise- and then had managed to get himself killed by a mere Padawan, a severely injured Jedi Master, and- worst of all, this last- a girl, a child with a toy crown and a pistol. Never had the Sith been so humiliated.

But they would pay for it. Oh, yes, they would pay dearly, and very, very soon.

The girl- that child these fools of Naboo called Queen -was Duncan's protégé, and to the brother who had once known him so well, it was clear as daylight on Tatooine how very much Duncan cared for her. Sidious meant to make use of that, if the opportunity presented itself. To torment his brother before he killed him, to repay him for what Sidious himself had suffered- oh, that would be sweet revenge indeed.

Silent and wraithlike, Sidious crept along the hall, weaving his way between courtiers and guards, attracting the notice of neither. Just ahead of him were the double doors leading to the Senator's suite. Without hesitation he drew one of the doors open just enough that he could pass through it. Easing the door closed behind him, Sidious sought a place to lie in wait within the many shadows of the darkened room.

He'd barely settled into his chosen shadow when the sound of footsteps drifted towards him from beyond the door. After a moment he could also pick out voices, speaking quietly. Try as he might, Sidious could not make out what either of the two might be saying. But as they drew closer, he was able to identify the first voice, and then the second.

Soon, then, Sidious thought, as the footsteps came still closer, and one of the doors swung inward. Very soon.

Two shadows stepped into the room, their shapes distinctive. One reached out to key the lights, and in the last instant of shadow within the room, Sidious smiled.

The first shadow was clearly his brother. And the other... the other was the girl.

* * *

Amidala extracted her arm from Palpatine's and guided him to a chair, kicking the door closed behind them as she did so. Having already keyed the lights, she tossed the books with a quick but careful flick of her wrist to land upon a small table near the Senator's chair.

"We'll meet again in the morning, all of us," she said. "Anything else that needs consideration or planning, we'll deal with then. Meantime, I need you well-rested, Duncan."

He smiled softly. "Is that a royal decree?"

"It can be." She paused, then stepped forward impulsively, enfolding him in a brief but tight embrace. "Thank you- for all you've done today. For your honesty and your loyalty..."

"I give you no less than your due, my dear." And thank you, my Queen, for your kindness, for your understanding, for your faith. Thank you for being all that you are.

Before she could even begin to contemplate an answer, a figure, cloaked in shadow, rose up from the room's darkest corner with a whisper of cloth, and the snap- hiss of a lightsaber's igniting.

From his place in the chair, Duncan Palpatine watched the scene unfold with a sick sense of surreality. The cloaked figure moving towards them, the 'saber in its hand- and he did not even have to look, with senses physical or otherwise, to know that figure's identity. But even as he thought himself frozen with shock, reflexes reacted for him. His arms tightened around Amidala a heartbeat before he propelled her, with greater strength then most would believe he possessed, away from him, pushing her back and to the right, towards the door.

Run, Duncan silently urged her, his eyes never once straying from his brother now, for he knew that if he looked away even for an instant, in that instant Stilvin would be upon him, and he would die. He, and Amidala Naberrie with him. Run, child! But he knew that she would not. The battles they had fought in recent years had taught Naboo's queen something of courage, and so Amidala would not run, although what she thought of as courage could perhaps have been foolishness, as well.

She hit the thick carpet on her shoulder and rolled, the room spinning over and around her until she came to rest, her head slamming against the door with a shock of pain. Amidala lay there a moment, dazed, watching as Duncan stood quickly and tossed aside his outer robe. He moved now with the instinctive grace of a much younger man, and though he was unarmed, she knew from his stance that he was nonetheless a very dangerous fighter.

"I needn't waste time telling you why I've come," the cloaked figure spoke up at last, and Amidala bit her lip to hold back a gasp of shock. She might have suspected, of course, given the Senator's recent revelation, but the voice marked it as a certainty. It was familiar and yet not, harsh, twisted, and cruel. There was none of Duncan's kindness in those tones, however similar they might be.

"No, of course not," Duncan said, as calmly as if he were ordering a cup of tea. "I've been expecting you for years."

"And have you no warm welcome for your brother?" the Sith asked.

"When my brother has come to kill me?" The senator shook his head. "No. I'm afraid you are mistaken. I have no brother."

Her heart pounding, trying to keep as still as possible, Amidala reached for her pistol...and knew with a sudden sinking certainty that she did not have it. She could see it clearly in her mind's eye; the silver glint of that weapon atop the dressing table in her chambers. So very far away, and so absolutely out of reach...

"And in time, nor shall I have a brother." The Sith Master lunged, his 'saber arm swinging in a great arc, the force behind it enough to sever limbs from body. Duncan dodged to the side and hit the carpet to avoid the strike, snatching the table nearest the chair a mere scattering of seconds later. He hurled the table, books and all, towards the Sith...who simply laughed and shook his head, deflected the books with one arm and sliced cleanly through the table itself.

Damn, Duncan thought, keeping one eye on the Sith and searching about with the other, seeking anything else that might be used as a weapon...or some sign of Amidala. It seems there are drawbacks to the life of a scholar, after all. And unforeseen complications. This lack of weaponry, for example, is proving quite a problem...

Even as he watched, the Sith moved quickly forward, in what Duncan assumed to be another attack upon him. But Sidious overshot him by several feet, and it was only as the Sith neared his goal that Duncan realized his fatal error. He had a tendency to forget that for the Sith it was often the most complex and twisted ways of doing things that best served their ends- and that enhanced the dark-tinged emotions that they fed upon for power.

But by the time he'd realized the Sith's true goal, and started to react, it was far too late. Sidious knelt beside Amidala, his 'saber hovering over her. Duncan felt icy blades of shock and pain stabbing his every sense, twisting in his heart with an exquisite, terrible agony.

"Damn you," he whispered in a voice pained and broken. Anger and despair started to overwhelm him... and just as quickly it was fading, and then gone, to be replaced by a crystal clarity like flowing water, and a calm strength of standing stone. Something changed in his eyes, and the Sith may have winced, ever so slightly.

"I sense in you great anger, my brother..." The Sith faltered suddenly, as that anger gave way to a calm and thoughtful manner that spoke of a great and rather unexpected change. Duncan should have been both furious and terrified by this point in time, pleading for the girl's life and striking out at Sidious, but he simply stood there, infuriatingly thoughtful, silent, calm... Jedi, Sidious thought with scorn. All this, and he is still one of them at heart.

"I should very much like to see you beg for her life," Sidious said conversationally.

Amidala blinked then as if just having returned to the land of the living. She ignored Sidious in a way that was regal and imperious, as if simply by refusing to acknowledge his presence, he ceased to exist. The young queen looked to Duncan, an ageless wisdom in her eyes. "Say nothing. And do nothing."

He made no move to speak a reply, but she read his answer in his eyes.

Amidala was uncertain what action she might have expected him to take, but she could not have been more surprised by what he did do. Duncan Palpatine extended an arm and held out his hand- and his brother's lightsaber slid neatly from the Sith Lord's grasp, evading his efforts to retrieve it, and dropped neatly into Duncan's hand.

The senator held the 'saber as if he had been born with it, wielded it as if it were crafted for his hand alone. Step by step he advanced upon his brother, forcing him back at 'saber point until he stood between the Sith and the Queen.

The Sith Lord smiled as he stepped back, hands raised- but in an instant there was a second lightsaber in his hand. Sidious retraced his steps towards his brother, thrusting forward with the saber again.

Duncan seemed to sigh as he parried the Sith Lord's strike. "I see you still carry a spare."

"You should have remembered that, brother," Sidious replied, feinting left, then striking right. "I'm disappointed."

"Are you." Duncan spun to block his brother's attack, doing his best to ignore the sudden sharp stab of pain that told him he'd twisted his ankle. "And I am disappointed in you, my brother. I never wanted this, Stil-"

"Of course not," the Sith snapped, delivering a brutal snap-kick aimed at his brother's knee. "I know very well what you wanted, brother. You wanted everything, and you got it, didn't you? The fame, the power, the recognition. Which of us is stronger now, I wonder?"

"Time will tell," was Duncan's reply as he let Sidious' kick send him to the floor. As he fell, he caught his brother's foot, dragging the Sith down with him. They struck the carpet together, the impact jolting the 'saber from the Sith Lord's hand. A gesture from Duncan, and it rolled harmlessly away.

"Highness," he snapped out, no time for kindness now, as he held the Sith down with one arm, his other hand holding the 'saber at his brother's throat.

Amidala sprang for the 'saber as it rolled to a stop at her feet, snatched it up and ignited one end. She held it cautiously, well aware of the damage it could cause.

"Easy, child," the Senator said softly. "It's very like one of your fencing foils. Instinct and your training will guide you, if you'll trust them. Here, now, to me."

Amidala had taken barely a step towards the senator when the door flew open behind her and Anakin stepped through it, blaster in hand. "Drop the lightsaber, Highness."

The Queen met Duncan's eyes; he nodded fractionally, and she clicked off the blade and dropped the 'saber handle to the floor.

"Let him up, or the Queen dies," Anakin said, clearly speaking to Palpatine. Amidala squared her shoulders and stood tall and silent, but as she gazed upon the senator, her lips moved. "Kill him," she whispered, so faintly that Duncan Palpatine had to read her lips to understand what she had said.

He gazed down upon the hood that shaded his brother's face- his own face, cruelly twisted, the hand that held the 'saber moving the slightest bit closer- and he shook his head. "Forgive me, Highness, but I cannot." The 'saber fell to the floor, and Duncan stood, hands raised.

* * *

Eirtae paused with her hand raised to knock upon the Jedi Master's door, wondering if she ought to trouble him or not. They had only recently retired for the night, and she knew that tomorrow was likely to be a very long day for all of them. But she couldn't shake the sense that something had gone wrong.

The Queen's handmaiden hadn't seen her since she departed to walk Senator Palpatine back to his rooms. Under normal circumstances Eirtae would not have worried if Amidala was a little late getting back- she and the Senator had a habit of becoming very involved in their conversations, and loosing track of time. But in light of recent events, the handmaiden thought they were better safe than sorry.

She knocked softly upon the Jedi Master's door. "Master Qui-Gon?"

The door swung inward several inches. "Yes? Who's there?"

"Eirtae, sir. The Queen's handmaiden." She paused, considering her next words. "I'm afraid something's happened to her..."

The door opened the rest of the way, and Qui-Gon Jinn stepped out into the hall, pulling a dark brown cloak over his nightclothes. "She and the Senator departed our council together, did they not?"

"They did. She's probably gone to walk him back to his rooms, and it's possible they just haven't noticed how late it's getting..." The handmaiden trailed off.

"Somehow, I think not." The Jedi Master drew a lightsaber from within the folds of his cloak. He did not ignite it, but held it at the ready. "I'll fetch Obi-Wan. If you'd be so kind as to call Captain Panaka?"

Eirtae was already reaching to key the comlink at her wrist when Qui-Gon turned and started off down the corridor.

* * *

Obi-Wan stumbled towards his door in response to the insistent pounding. "Do you have any idea what time-?" he started, opening the door. One look at Qui-Gon's expression stopped him cold. "What is it?" he asked quietly.

"Get dressed, quickly, and come with me."

"What's going on, Master?" Obi-Wan asked, snatching up lightsaber and cloak.

"I don't know," Qui-Gon replied, "but I believe the Queen may be in danger."

"Where?" the younger Jedi asked, his heart suddenly pounding.

Before Qui-Gon could answer, they were met by Eirtae, who ran along the hall towards them with her skirts held up in one hand, and a blaster clutched tightly in the other.

"Panaka?" Qui-Gon asked as the three hurried along the hall, he and the injured handmaiden leaning upon Obi-Wan for support.

"He's on his way," Eirtae replied. "But-"

"-we can't afford to wait," Obi-Wan finished for her.

* * *

Sidious collected the lightsabers Amidala and Duncan had dropped, and, she noticed, he also relieved Anakin of the blaster he held.

"What kept you?" Sidious asked the boy crossly.

"I had to deal with a few security types," Anakin replied defensively, and Amidala did not have time to feel the entirety of the shock and anger inspired by what his words implied, for Sidious stepped forward, stopping within inches of her. But his attention was obviously elsewhere; he gazed upon young Anakin Skywalker with a terrible, single-minded rage.

The Sith Lord's strike, when it came, was quick and hard. He backhanded Anakin, and the blow sent the boy flying, skidding across carpet to land at Duncan's feet. The Senator made no move to help the boy up.

"How many?" Sidious asked, speaking quiet calmly now.

"Five," Anakin replied. "I thought the troops would take care of them all." He paused. "Master, we should finish this and leave, before-"

"No. For this I have waited-" Sidious might have gone on, but he was never given the chance. Amidala was upon him the instant his gaze focused entirely on Anakin, and with a few quick blows, she brought him to the ground, facedown. Twisting one of the Sith Lord's arms behind his back, with her free hand she relieved him of a 'saber and sent it spinning towards the Senator.

"Duncan!" she called out, and he turned towards the sound, catching the 'saber in midair. The instant his hand grasped it, its blade was ignited, and Anakin was forced to freeze least he walk straight into it.

"Nicely done, my dear," Palpatine said, never taking his eyes from Anakin.

"Thank you. Now the only question is- what do we do with them?"

Instantly she cursed herself for having let her guard down even for that brief moment, as Sidious caught hold of her shoulders and tossed her aside. She fell against the Senator, who caught her, but the damage was more than already done.

"I grow tired of these games, girl," Sidious said. "I meant to see you dead only because to do so would bring my brother pain, but now- now you shall die for your insolence, as well."

"Master-" Anakin gasped, reaching blindly for something, he didn't know what- and then his hand grasped the doorknob, and he turned it, pushed it open.

Palpatine took hold of his Queen's hand as Anakin gave them both a hard shove towards the door. "Go!" the boy screamed.

"Anakin-" the Queen started, but Palpatine's grip was like iron, and she couldn't turn back. In an instant they were through the door and racing along the corridor, at a pace she knew he could not keep up much longer.

"Highness!" came Eirtae's voice from somewhere ahead of them.

Then Obi-Wan's shout, "Amidala!"

And finally, Qui-Gon's warning, "Look out!"

Senator and Queen collided with Jedi Master, Knight, and handmaiden, each of them struggling to catch all of the others, then all of them trying to get to their feet at once.

"Quickly," Palpatine said, helping Eirtae to her feet with one hand, lending Qui-Gon his other arm. "He'll be right behind us, I'm sure."

"Who?" the handmaiden asked, turning back to pull her Queen to her feet.

"Sith," Amidala replied briskly, shrugging off Eirtae's attempts at help. "I'm afraid we haven't the time to explain. We must move quickly."

"Head for the throne room," Obi-Wan added quickly as he sprang to his feet. "Captain Panaka and his Security Force will meet us there."

"One hopes, at any rate," Amidala said quietly, thinking of Anakin's words back in the Senator's rooms. But there was no time for further thought, for she glimpsed the boy coming towards them, his Master trailing not far behind. "Quickly, everyone!"

They were off and running then, heedless of any obstacles standing in their way, their only thought to reach the Security Force before the Sith Lord caught up with them. At a place where two halls met, they stopped short, Palpatine, in the lead, taking hold of Amidala's arm, his grip again like steel, stopping her advance. "Hold," he snapped out at the others, a command they instantly obeyed, though none could have said why.

"Anakin mentioned-" Amidala began, and Palpatine nodded.

"Troops. Yes, I know."

And then they saw them, two dozen troops in armor white as bone, marching along the hall toward the place where Captain Panaka and his men stood guard. Amidala withdrew a small glowrod and signaled Panaka, who nodded ever so slightly before calling out something to his men.

The Naboo Security Force laid down covering fire as the Queen's party raced for the safety of the throne room. Heads down, weapons at the ready, they ran, the injured and the aging propelled by the younger and the stronger. Amidala, supporting Palpatine, and Obi- Wan, aiding Qui-Gon, were the last to run the gauntlet. Just ahead of them Eirtae stumbled as she ran, and Qui-Gon reached back a hand to pull her to safety.

As she took the last step towards the throne room's door, Amidala glanced over her shoulder, and saw Panaka stumble and fall back, a charred circle burned through his uniform and the skin beneath.

"NO!" she cried out, and turned again, as if to go to his aid. "Captain..."

"Amidala, there is nothing you can do for him now," Obi-Wan said quietly. "Come now, quickly."

But she simply stood and gazed upon the body of the man who had been both friend and protector to her. "Leave me be, Obi-Wan."

Palpatine, barely past the threshold, turned back upon hearing her words. "My dear, please..." He moved forward to take her arm and draw her into the relative safety of the throne room, where even now Eirtae and Qui-Gon were availing themselves of the Queen's hidden cache of blasters. As he stepped into the doorway, a stray blaster bolt struck him, and the Senator gasped in pain, falling back, but drawing Amidala with him.

"Duncan!" the queen cried out, and there were tears streaming down her face now. "Please, no, old friend, not you, too..."

"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon called out to his former apprentice, and the Jedi Knight stepped between the Queen and the still open door, keeping that door open only until the last of the Security officers passed through it. Once they were inside, Obi-Wan drew the door closed and activated its complex locking mechanism.

"That won't hold them for long," he advised his mentor.

"It'll hold them long enough," was Qui-Gon's reply. "At the very least it will buy us some time."

"Time for what?" Eirtae asked.

"Time to regroup," Obi-Wan told her. "That Sith Lord out there isn't going to go away, and neither are his soldiers."

"You'll have to fight them, then," the handmaiden said, and Obi-Wan nodded. "What about us? The Queen- the Senator..."

Qui-Gon approached them then, a wry smile upon his face. "This won't be the first time I have served as the Queen's protector, young handmaiden. Obi-Wan goes where I cannot, any longer." He turned to face the young Knight. "May the Force be with you, Obi-Wan."

"Thank you, Master." Obi-Wan sighed. "I have a feeling I am going to need it."

Qui-Gon shook his head, smiling a bit. "You and your feelings... Go on and see the Queen, before you leave."

Obi-Wan found Amidala near the large window inset in one of the throne room's walls, kneeling beside the injured Senator, speaking quietly to him in a voice as gentle and soft as velvet. Not for the first time, he was struck by the depth of her kindness. She was truly selfless, caring more for others than she did for herself. Her grief at the death of her friend was obvious, but there she sat, whispering words of comfort to another.

Amidala glanced up as Obi-Wan approached. She had already applied a bacta patch to the Senator's wound, and there was little more she could do now but wait, and hope.

"Obi-Wan," she said quietly in greeting, as he dropped to his knees beside her.

"How is he?" Obi-Wan asked, looking upon Palpatine with concern.

"I don't know," the queen replied honestly. "I have done what I can, but-" She shook her head, trembling more than slightly. "My dear old friend... I cannot bear to lose you, as well... please, I beg of you..."

"My dear," Duncan said softly, "mine is not a minor injury, and I know this well. But nor, I think, is it fatal. Time will tell the tale, of course, but... Fear not for me, my lady."

"Shh," Amidala said softly, brushing back a lock of hair from his forehead. "Just lie still, Duncan."

"I..." Obi-Wan began, but trailed off, uncertain how to begin, uncertain if he should say anything at all. "Amidala..."

"You're going back out there, aren't you?" she asked, calm, serene. She was, he had discovered, hardly ever otherwise. Except when she was angry, and the few times he had seen her angry, hers had been the fury of some warrior goddess filled with righteous anger.

"You know I have to. Those soldiers, for one thing, need to be taken care of before they harm anyone else- and I'd like to ask the Security Force to help me deal with them, with your permission."

"I doubt that you could stop them from going with you," Amidala replied.

Obi-Wan nodded. "I thought as much. And, soldiers aside, there is still the Sith to deal with..."

"Stilvin," Duncan murmured, a tear making its way slowly down his cheek.

"Sir," Obi-Wan said respectfully, with as much of a bow as it was possible to make from his kneeling position, "If it could be any other way- But he cannot be reasoned with. He will kill us all if we allow him to."

Palpatine smiled sadly. "I know, young Jedi. In my heart I have known it for years. I needed only to realize it, but..."

The Jedi nodded slowly. "I have a brother," was all he said, but the Senator's expression spoke clearly for his understanding.

He turned to Amidala again. "I wanted to take a moment to say goodbye before my departure. In case- well. Just in case."

"You'll be back," she said softly, reaching out to take his hand.

"So sure of that, are you?"

"Yes," she said.

"There's one thing more, Highness, that I would say before I go."

"Yes? Go on."

Obi-Wan Kenobi drew Amidala Naberrie's hand to his lips and kissed it gently. "I love you."

"I know," was the Queen's only verbal answer, but she reached out and drew him into her arms, and when their lips touched it was clear no other words were necessary.

When Obi-Wan had taken his leave, Amidala settled back on her heels beside Duncan, her expression both thoughtful and sad. "These days, old friend, are so bittersweet. I had hoped we would never see another day like this..."

"I fear we have seen only the first of them," he replied. Then: "Amidala."

"Yes."

"If you can stand to hear it, there is one more thing I would tell you."

She nodded without hesitation. "Tell me."

"It is a story, but rest assured it is a true one." He settled back as best he could against the wall, one hand clasping the bacta patch as if to hold it in place. Despite the bacta, there was something in his eyes that told Amidala he believed it was possible he might yet die of his injuries- a possibility she refused to consider, having lost far too much already.

"Years before your birth, when I was a young man, just finishing my years of study at the university, I met a woman in Theed."

Amidala smiled then, a bit. "I believe I have heard this story."

"No one still among the living has heard this story, my dear. If I may continue?"

"Please do."

"I met her in the university's library, and I may have loved her at first glance. We spoke of everything that day, of life, and politics, hopes and dreams. By sunset she knew the deepest secrets of my heart, things I had never dared speak aloud, and several I'd never known I felt at all.

"She was brilliant and beautiful, enchanting, kind, and strong. I loved her more than I have ever loved anyone, before or since. I loved her though she was noble and I was common as a grassland breeze- and had she been anything less than what she was, I might have walked away because of that."

Amidala sat perfectly still now, her eyes fixed upon him, gaze never wavering. Despite what he had said to her when she'd interrupted, his words had the sense of the familiar about them. In a way she could not explain, she knew this tale, knew it in her heart if not her mind.

He spoke of love, and her thoughts turned to Obi-Wan. She wondered if she would see him again, or if he, like Panaka, would die protecting her. As if sensing the train of her thoughts, Palpatine drew a deep breath and picked up the thread of his tale again.

"Her parents loathed the idea of she and I, and mine feared what would come of it. To her family I was nothing, a simple low born merchant's son, and, perhaps worse still, a Jedi. And my own friends and family, even after all I had done, all I had achieved, thought that I reached too high, too far above my station. None of them ever understood how little those things mattered to her, to me, to either of us.

"We wanted more than anything to be wed, but it was simply impossible, and gradually we grew to accept that. Times are different now, and laws changed- the latter, if I may say, partially a result of my own efforts. But though I said the same things in those days as I did later on, in the beginning my words fell on deaf ears.

"We did not need formal ceremony to share our lives, however, and so we lived without it, which many would even now tell you is quite improper. Of our union there was but one bit of evidence that would prove able to survive the test of time. Our child. Oh, she was beautiful, our daughter. From the moment I laid eyes upon her, I loved her. I loved her, and her mother loved her, and those first few months were sweet as well as sad.

"Sad because I knew then that my love was dying, dying of a rare illness for which there was no cure. She was dying, and it was forbidden to those of my order- for I was a Jedi then, what seems now to have been long ago- to raise a child alone. I suppose they thought it would prove too much of a distraction, or that in light of our occupation, might be rather unfair to the child in question, but as always I can only wonder at the wisdom of the Council- if wisdom is indeed what it is.

"I was heartbroken at her death. I had already lost my love, and would soon loose my daughter as well. One day the solution came to me; imperfect, yes, but a solution that would not take from me completely my child. It was arranged, then, that she would be raised by a dear friend of mine, who would until her thirteenth year raise the child as his own. But the year she was thirteen an accident claimed her adoptive father's life, and she was once again my ward- because there was no one else, no other relative willing, though many members of both my family and her mother's lived still."

Amidala did not even dare to breathe. She knew, instantly, instinctively, how this tale would end. In that moment she knew, and her lips parted as she prepared to speak, though she had no idea what she might say, but Duncan Palpatine was going on, and she would not have dreamed of interrupting, not then.

"Though I raised her from that point on, the truth was never known. I felt it would destroy too much of the life she had built, the life she knew, if I were to tell her the truth. But in her own ways this child, my daughter, taught me of the importance of truth. And so finally the day came when I was able to tell her the story of her own life, the story that is true- to tell her that the woman I loved, her mother, was Theadora Naberrie, and that she named her daughter, our daughter, Amidala."

* * *

With the members of the Naboo Security Force following close behind him, Obi-Wan stepped from the throne room, lightsaber in hand. He did not particularly want to do this. No, he wanted to turn around and step back through that door to see to his friends, to make sure that Amidala was safe, she and Qui-Gon and Eirtae, and to help take care of the Senator. But going back through that door would not be the best thing he could do to help those he cared for, not really. He would do them the most good by going to deal with the Sith Lord and the oddly- armored soldiers he'd brought with him. And so, because that was what they needed him to do, it was what he, Obi-Wan, would do.

Even if his thoughts kept trying to dwell upon the pained look he'd last seen on the face of Naboo's beautiful queen, or the sadness in the eyes of Palpatine as he spoke to the young woman...

"You and yours," Obi-Wan said to the highest-ranked survivor of the Naboo Security officers, "take care of those troopers. I'll deal with the Sith."

"Alone?" the man asked. He sounded a bit skeptical, and Obi-Wan couldn't exactly blame him. This Sith's student had nearly been the death of he and Qui- Gon, and despite the necessity of it, he was hardly anxious to discover how much better the Master was than the Apprentice.

"There is no one else to help me. I have my duties, and you have yours. The Queen needs your help. Go, man, go!" The Naboo officer went, taking his men with him.

With them gone, Obi-Wan went in search of the Sith Lord. He did not have to search long.

"I have been waiting for you," the Sith said rather calmly as he ignited his lightsaber and brought it to bear against Obi-Wan's. "I'm surprised it took you this long."

Obi-Wan refused to rise to the bait. "You nearly killed your own brother. I do not understand-"

"Fool Jedi!" exclaimed the other, launching a vicious swing attack. "You have never understood anything."

From then on they fought in silence, and to Obi-Wan's surprise they seemed almost evenly matched. The Sith might have had perhaps a bit more of an edge, but he had been fighting longer than Obi-Wan today, and he was beginning to tire. Obi-Wan wasn't counting on that to give him any sort of large-scale advantage, but anything, no matter how small, would help him immensely now.

As they fought, Obi-Wan struggled to keep a grip on his whirlwind emotions. He was angry, angry at this man for what he had done today, for causing the deaths of friends, for harming others- and, certainly not least, for threatening Amidala, the harmless- looking old man who was her mentor, and his, Obi- Wan's, mentor, Qui-Gon.

He was angry and he was afraid, afraid of what would become of the others if he failed to neutralize the threat of the Sith. But he was also a Jedi, a Knight now and no longer an apprentice, stronger than when he had faced the Sith Darth Maul, and more sure now of what he must do.

And so it was that when it came time for the killing blow, he did not hesitate to give it- and a good thing it was that he did not, for he was within an inch of losing his own life. Even as Sidious' body fell, his saber moved still towards Obi-Wan.

The Jedi leapt to the side and down, shoulder slamming into the carpeting as he rolled away. He snatched up his saber, which he had dropped at some point during his fall, and without even pausing to catch his breath, he ran towards the sound of shouts and blaster fire which marked the site where the remaining battle was taking place.

The same Naboo officer he'd spoken to before was directing the remaining men when Obi-Wan reached them, and it appeared that they did not so urgently need his help as he'd thought. The officer spared a nod for Obi-Wan, shouted a few more orders, and then turned his full attention to Obi-Wan.

"You're a bit late, son. I think we have things under control here."

And they certainly did seem to. There were only two of the strangely-armored warriors left, facing approximately a half-dozen remaining Naboo. Those two fell to the Naboo's weapons even as the Jedi watched.

"So I see. Any further casualties?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Thank the Force, no."

"The Queen will be glad to hear that."

The other nodded. "It won't ease her mind any about losing Panaka, but..."

Obi-Wan nodded, his thoughts suddenly elsewhere. A vision of Panaka, falling dead where he had stood defending the Queen, flashed before his eyes. Panaka, dead in an attempt to protect the Queen. The Senator, injured in same...

"Palpatine!" Obi-Wan exclaimed, horridly turning away from the Naboo officer.

"The Senator? He's not-?"

"No. But he's hurt. Send for the medics. Enough to see to your men, too. I've got to..." Helplessly, he shrugged, glanced in the direction of the throne room.

The Naboo nodded. "Go on. Tell them it's over."

"I will."

And then he was off and running down the corridor, feet flying over carpet, sliding quickly across marble and tile.

* * *

The throne room, when Obi-Wan stepped past its doors, was deathly silent. The atmosphere there was thick and dense, with an air of life suspended, of expectation; weariness, waiting, and all within the room were still.

Amidala was approximately where Obi-Wan had left her, kneeling near the window, supporting most of Palpatine's weight, his head cradled in her hands. Occasionally she reached up to wipe the sweat from his brow with a cloth. Her expression was the closed, private look of the Queen, but her eyes were worried, and tears stained her expressionless face.

Silently Obi-Wan kneeled before her. "Amidala?" he whispered, not wanting to shatter the silence that had gathered in this place.

She looked up at him and her lips parted in the beginning of a smile, but in her arms Palpatine trembled, a soft moan escaping his lips, and the smile vanished as if it had never been. "Shh," she whispered. "It's alright, Father. Soon..."

Obi-Wan's eyes widened in shock, but deep down he had to admit that he was not entirely surprised. There had always been a kinship between the two of them, an understanding which he had known to exist only amongst the closest of family.

"You will outlive me...daughter," he whispered. Wheezed, really, Obi-Wan thought with a wince.

But he scared up a smile for father and daughter both. "Likely she will. The medics should be here any moment."

"Stil?" he asked, and Obi-Wan knew that it was his brother whom he asked after.

He simply shook his head, and the old man nodded. "So be it, then."

Obi-Wan exchanged a worried look with Amidala, but before either could speak the doors to the throne room burst open. She reached for her blaster, and he for his lightsaber, but the intruders wore the livery of Naboo medical personnel, and they were proceeding quickly towards the trio of Senator, Queen, and Jedi.

A stern-faced woman Obi-Wan recalled as Dr. Eilin Voyles, who had tended to Qui-Gon after the Battle of Naboo, gently lifted the Senator from Amidala's arms. Amidala seemed not to want to let him go, but Voyles gave her a look which soothed her somewhat.

"Now don't you worry your pretty little head over this one, Highness, hear me? I'll take good care of him, and he'll be cursing the infirmary food in a week along with everyone else." As she spoke, Voyles placed Palpatine's limp form upon a grav stretcher. "Let's go!" she snapped at the assistants trailing her, brisk and businesslike.

"I am coming with you," Amidala told Voyles.

"And I'm going with her," Obi-Wan said immediately after.

Voyles shook her head, muttering under her breath. "Certainly not. You're clearly exhausted, every last one of you. Rest now, and you can see him later." She raised her voice. "Bed rest for every last one of you, hear me? Especially you." She leveled her gaze at Qui-Gon. "Spent enough time putting you back together last time around that I'm not about to let you..." Still muttering, she headed off with Palpatine's grav stretcher in tow, and whatever she wasn't about to let Qui-Gon do was unintelligible as she exited the throne room and kicked the door closed behind her.

"Alright, you heard her," Obi-Wan said. "Let's go, Highness." Before she had a chance to protest- and she would protest, he knew, given the chance -he lifted her into his arms and started for the door himself.

"Eirtae?" he called over his shoulder.

"I'll take care of the others," the handmaiden promised.

* * *

Bare feet sliding silently across the carpet, Amidala stole quietly from her bed to the door. Her hand grasped the handle, and she eased it open, peering out into the corridor beyond.

Behind her, in the chair beside her bed, Eirtae stirred. "Highness? The doctor's orders..."

"I am fine," Amidala interrupted her, resuming her careful reconnaissance of the hall beyond her rooms. It certainly seemed deserted enough, but appearances could very well be deceiving.

"But, Your Highness, really..."

"There is nothing wrong with me," Amidala protested, not for the first time that day. "I am going to see my father and the others now."

Eirtae sighed. "Alright. But don't say I didn't-"

Amidala was already out into the corridor by that point. "-warn you," the handmaiden finished.

The Queen moved out into the hall, went to take another step- and stopped in her tracks, instead.

There, leaning up against the marble facing of the near wall, arms crossed, was Obi-Wan. He stood there as if he'd been waiting for her, and from the disapproving look upon his face, she knew well what he thought of her being out of bed so soon, against Dr. Voyles' orders.

Amidala thought it a bit ridiculous. She, herself, had hardly fought at all. Obi-Wan, on the other hand, looked to be at about the point of exhaustion, but of course he refused to rest until he was certain that she would also.

"Out for a stroll, Your Highness?" Obi-Wan asked with a wry smile.

"I," she said, "am going to see my father."

"You, Highness, are going back to bed," was the Jedi's reply.

She simply looked at him, one elegant eyebrow raised. "You will escort me to my father at once." And then she stood there, waiting, her expression clearly expectant. There were, after all, advantages to being Queen.

Obi-Wan sighed. There was just no reasoning with her when she was like this. He slipped off his cloak and wrapped it about her shoulders. "Here. I'll not have you freezing to death." She looked at him again, saying nothing, but stuffed her arms through the cloak's sleeves, which were a bit long for her. Her appearance was hardly comic, but still Obi-Wan felt the urge to laugh. He'd made a gallant gesture, and she had simply taken it at face value. She must be truly exhausted, to have let him get away with that sort of thing. Not that she was about to admit it, of course. If he was still standing, she'd still be standing, even if it was on a single foot, or even a single toe.

"Very well, Highness," he said as he took offered her his arm, and she took it. "This way."

Amidala shifted her hand upon his arm. "How are you?" she asked.

"Exhausted. And you?"

"As Qui-Gon seems so fond of saying, I'll live." Amidala sighed. "I think that I am still trying to come to terms with all of this. That has been hardest to recover from. Not injuries or exhaustion, but... a loss, of what once was. A few short years ago, Naboo was a peaceful planet, and I thought that it would always remain so. I never dreamed of the ways the troubles of the galaxy would find to intrude upon our peace here."

Obi-Wan nodded. "These are troubled times, even for the most peaceful of societies."

"Yes. And the Republic... the Republic is not helping matters. Or what remains of the Republic, anyway." Naboo's queen shook her head. "But I cannot single- handedly save the Republic. I don't know that anyone can. Naboo is what concerns me, what I must focus upon."

Obi-Wan was saved from having to reply by their timely arrival at the doors to the infirmary, where the Naboo officer Obi-Wan had fought beside stood guard. The Jedi shrugged helplessly. "She insisted."

"The Queen is the Queen, Jedi Kenobi," the man replied.

"Even to an offworlder," Obi-Wan agreed as the guard drew back one of the doors.

Beyond that door, they found Dr. Voyles, looking anything but pleased. "Jedi, the Queen-"

"-was bound and determined to see your patient, and I certainly can't say no to her."

"Won't, is more like," Voyles muttered, but she stood aside.

"How is he?" Amidala asked.

"Sore. And for all that it could have been much worse, he's certainly complaining enough about it. He'll be alright soon enough, provided he rests. You'll have to see that he does, Highness, because the Force knows he won't take sound medical advice."

Amidala suppressed a smile and shook her head. "He does not listen all that well to me either, Doctor. If he will not follow your orders, he may not take mine, either. But I will do what I can."

"When you get to be his age," Voyles said, "you are supposed to know better, but, no, not that one. In some ways I think these older ones, your father and the Jedi Master, make for the worst patients."

Voyles, like many others who had long served the Queen, seemed to have taken the news of Amidala's parentage with simple acceptance and a good dose of the sensible attitudes so commonplace amongst her people. Amidala's foster father had been a good and honorable man, but so too was Naboo's Senator to the Galactic Republic, and the Queen could ask for no better. He was Naboo and he served his homeworld and his queen well. For Voyles, as well as for a great number of those who knew, it was enough. More than so.

"I see that this news does not trouble you, Doctor," Amidala said as if sensing the train of Voyles' thoughts.

"And why should it? He has been a father to you for years. Anyone can see that he loves you, and you him."

"Once again my people show themselves to be more understanding than I could ever have hoped them to be."

Voyles nodded as if it were no more than she had expected of Amidala. The girl did not seem so much a queen to her then, though of course she was, and Voyles was as loyal a servant of the Queen as could be found anywhere in Theed- she did not seem so much a queen, but more perhaps the handmaiden she at times pretended to be, just another young woman seeking the doctor's kind listening ear. Whoever and whatever they were elsewhere, within the confines of her domain, Voyles' only concern for her patients was their health and well-being. She would cure and heal even those who protested and complained every step of the way, for it was what she did. If they called her stubborn, along with a few other things not so polite, it was only because she had to be so. Because it was her duty to care for them, whatever their feelings on the subject might be. Because Eilin Voyles was a healer, and a healer would she be, always.

Amidala stepped past Voyles and into the small chamber where the doctor and her team of medics were treating Duncan Palpatine. He looked much improved since last she'd seen him, and certainly he seemed less likely to loose consciousness any time soon. Her father sat up with the support of several large pillows, his hands, one bearing the marks of numerous injections, grasping a hardbound book taken from the Palace library. As she watched, he slowly turned a page.

At the sound of the door's opening, Duncan looked up, smiled, and set the book aside. "Amidala."

"Hello, Father," she said, stepping forward, if a touch hesitantly, to hug him.

He smiled at her as she drew back. "Are you alone, or has the Jedi come with you? I see you've appropriated his cloak."

"It's on loan, actually," she replied lightly, calling over her shoulder to Obi-Wan. The young Jedi appeared at her side, and with all seriousness bowed to Amidala's father.

"I was afraid for a moment Voyles wouldn't let me in," the Jedi told them with a somewhat sheepish look. "She seemed to think one visitor more than enough."

"One visitor is about all I've space for," was the Senator's reply. He gestured to their surroundings, and Amidala immediately took his meaning. The room was not exactly small, but nor was it large, and certainly his own rooms would provide more space- as well as a more pleasant setting in which to recover.

"If she ever forgives me for disobeying my own instructions, I will speak to Dr. Voyles about the possibility of your returning to your apartments," Amidala said. "You'll not be headed back to Coruscant anytime soon, but at least it would be a change in scenery- and a change for the better, at that."

"Thank you, my dear," he replied. "To be home would do wonders for my health."

"How are you, Father?" Amidala asked, and he smiled to hear her address him so yet again.

"I'm told I will be sore for quite some time, and restricted to light movement for a bit longer than that, but I will live. The good doctor tells me I am rather lucky, but one does tend to wonder at that, left to her tender ministrations."

Obi-Wan chuckled despite himself. "She was the same with Qui-Gon, as I remember. I'll ask him to stop by later, and the two of you can compare notes."

Palpatine nodded. "Thank you, Obi-Wan. I would like that." He paused, looking between the two of them. "And you two, are you well?"

"Yes, sir," Obi-Wan replied. "As well as can be expected," he added after a moment's thought.

"And the others?"

"A bit shaken up by recent events," Amidala told him. "Not that I can blame them at all for that. I, too, did not expect things such as this to reach our doorstep."

"Naboo issues were central in the beginning of those first trouble spots, if you'll recall, and I fear that has doomed us to many long years of being central to conflicts and episodes we would rather steer well clear of." A hint of sadness touched his eyes as he spoke of that, and his two visitors knew his feelings on that subject clearly as if they'd been spoken aloud.

"I fear you are right about that," Amidala said quietly. "But we are Naboo. We are brave. We'll manage."

She exchanged a smile with Obi-Wan. "We are brave, Your Highness," the Jedi said.

"I trust everyone is well, physically?" Palpatine asked them, a raised eyebrow his only commentary on their rather odd exchange.

Seeming grateful for the change to somewhat less troubling ground, Obi-Wan recited what he knew. "Eirtae's leg is a little sore from the running she did the other day, and I suspect Qui-Gon's old injury is bothering him, though he hasn't said so. The Naboo Security folks' injuries seem to be minor even at their worst." He paused. "There's been no sign of Anakin."

"I would be very interested to one day find out which side young Skywalker believes himself to be on," Palpatine mused. Amidala raised an eyebrow at that- she'd had the same thought, but had not chosen to voice it aloud.

"I, too," she replied softly now.

He nodded, looking again from Obi-Wan to Amidala. "You seem to be missing a garment, Jedi Kenobi, which Amidala seems to have somehow acquired."

A rather un-Queenly blush crept up Amidala's cheeks as she adjusted the cloak. She did not, Palpatine noticed, make any move to give it up even under his scrutiny of the item. "It's a loan," she said again, not without humor, but not without a seriousness to her voice, either.

"Mmm. Yes. Which brings about another question, my darling Amidala." He reached back a hand to adjust the pillows, the movement clearly more of a strain than it might have been under other circumstances- and before his arm had moved very far at all, the two of them were simply there, at his side, moving the pillows until he was more comfortable.

"Yes?" prompted Obi-Wan, who rather suspected he knew what was on the older man's mind.

"I've been curious these past few days- lying here as I have been, with precious little to occupy my mind- I've been curious... What exactly are your intentions towards my daughter, Obi-Wan Kenobi?"

In all seriousness, he replied, "My intentions are entirely honorable, sir. I love her, and when the time is right for it, I would ask for her hand in marriage."

Duncan Palpatine nodded, slowly. His sapphire gaze flicked to Amidala, who stood the picture of serene calmness, observing this exchange. Even through that calm, however, that her feelings mirrored the Jedi's, was not hard to see at all. And besides which, there had been that rather convincing display in the throne room several days prior.

To his daughter he gave the barest nod, and then motioned Obi-Wan Kenobi towards him. "Closer, closer..." And, in a louder voice, to Amidala, "Back a few steps if you would, my dear- thank you."

He beckoned Obi-Wan still closer, and the Jedi inched forward, until at last he stood leaning over Palpatine. Injured the Senator might have been, but even lying there, his appearance was anything but frail. Sharp, intelligent, and somewhat calculating blue eyes stared into Obi-Wan's own.

"If you injure my daughter in any way whatsoever, be it physically, mentally, or emotionally, if ever you put her in danger or harm's way without cause or her consent- and if you ever, ever, in any way, shape, or form, betray her, the galaxy itself will not be large enough for you to hide from me."

Obi-Wan nodded solemnly. "I understand, sir. And I promise..."

Duncan nodded, as if to confirm to himself what he had long suspected. "Good lad. I thought as much."

* * *

Anonymous beneath the cowl of a dusty brown cloak that cast his face into shadow, Anakin Skywalker walked the streets of Theed. His mood alternated between anger and sadness. He had betrayed his Master, and because of that, he was probably dead. But at the same time, he had not been able to bring himself to betray Amidala, or the kindly old man who'd stood to defend her.

That one was obviously far more than he'd seemed, and far more than even Lord Sidious had hinted at. Part of Anakin wondered if he might perhaps be able to approach Palpatine to seek his aid. But no. It would not be possible. He had saved them, in a way, but he had more clearly betrayed them, and they would not trust him again- nor should they, he thought.

And in any case, the old man was a Jedi. Or had been, which was much the same thing. He was a Jedi, and Anakin was a Sith. It was the path he'd chosen, the path he'd wanted- the path he still wanted, really.

"I suppose," he said softly to himself, "I am the Master now."

"I think not, young Skywalker."

Startled, he turned to seek out the source of the voice. Sidious- or at least he thought it was Sidious- stood directly in front of him now, the hood of his cloak pulled low over his face. Even with so many distinguishing features hidden, Anakin had no doubts. It was him. Somehow, it was.

"Master? I thought-?"

"That the pathetic child who was the death of Maul was also the death of me? Hardly."

"Is the Jedi dead, then?"

"No. The Jedi lived because I allowed it. My brother, however, is dead."

"You killed him, Master?"

"From a certain point of view, child. You might say that the winds of fate were the death of my brother- and that the winds moved at my command."

"How-?"

"Some things are not yet yours to know, Apprentice," Sidious said. "I will answer no more of your questions now."

Anakin nodded quickly. "Yes, Master. What- if I can ask- what now?"

"For now, my apprentice, we shall wait."

"Wait?" the boy asked, unable to stop himself.

"Until the time is right."

Without another word, Sidious turned and walked slowly away. Slowly, and with a limp that spoke of some recent injury. Anakin watched him depart, until he rounded a corner and was out of sight.

Only then did Anakin realize that there had been something different about his Master. He had Sidious' voice, and Sidious' face, and yet...

He reached the corner at a run, shoving his way through the crowd amid shouts of protest. "My lord!" he called, adding his own voice to the chorus of exclamations.

But there was no answer. And though he had been only an instant or two behind the Sith lord, Sidious was gone, having vanished into the crowd as if he had never existed.

* * *

As the sun set oncemore over the city of Theed, Duncan Palpatine stood at a window overlooking the palace gardens. A dark blue cloak was draped over his shoulders to ward against the cold, and he rested one hand against the glass, bracing himself. The pain was greater than he would admit, and if he were following Voyles' instructions as strictly as she expected him to, he would still be in bed.

In the gardens below, he glimpsed a cloaked figure walking, tall and alone. At first he took the figure for his daughter, but it was not Amidala. Of that he was certain. The figure turned its head, face cast into deep shadow, but he felt the weight of a piercing gaze, seeming to look directly into his darkened window- into the window, and right through him. The figure raised a hand, pale as moonlight, weather in a gesture of greeting or of warding, he could not say.

Though the evening had not grown that much cooler yet, he shivered, closing his eyes. When he opened them oncemore, the figure was gone.

Palpatine shook his head, certain at first that evening shadows were playing tricks upon aging eyes. But in his heart, he knew the truth as he had always known it. Alone then, wrapped in his cloak and the darkness of his rooms, a sigh rose from somewhere deep within him, and he let it make its way to the surface unimpeded.