Heritage/Chapter 14

“I want to see Cale.”

Zeya laughed in her face, somehow managing to contort the bell tone of her voice into a mocking chuckle. “Well that’s a turnaround. I thought you wanted to kill him?”

“Who says I’ve changed my mind?” Leia replied dryly, making sure to keep the palm of her left hand flat against her stomach. She didn’t trust the Baci as far as she could throw her, and was afraid of what she might try with the baby. In her weakened state, keeping her hand nearer made it easier to maintain a protective Force touch around her uterus.

Zeya rolled her eyes and set the tray of food down in front of Leia’s crossed legs. “I’m afraid you’re not helping your case any.”

“If this is your idea of prenatal care, I’m afraid this prized heir of his will never make it to term,” Leia countered diplomatically. It had been her original intention to somehow overpower the taller woman, but that plan had fallen flat when she considered her options afterwards. Instead, an alternative route had been devised. “I need to talk to Cale. This is no way for the mother of his child to be treated.” The last sentence was a hard one to pass her lips. She had fallen into denial to keep her sanity, thinking of the baby as only hers, without a father. Admitting that Cale had any part in his or her creation caused her to go momentarily gray and weak.

The female soldier replied as she straightened, “Whatever complaints you have, direct them to me and I will make sure the Premier learns of them.”

“I am not just a prisoner of war, I’m a consort of the clanleader for House Wilos and the Premier for the Baci Nation,” she affected the speech with an air of authority and condescension. Tilting her chin up to face Zeya she demanded, “Take me to see him. Now.”

Zeya took an impassive step forward, looming over Leia with hands on hips. “You are in no position to be making demands. Besides, Cale wants nothing to do with you after the stunt you pulled. I’m not being presumptuous when I say that you will not long survive the birth of that little bastard.”

Leia’s blood boiled at the insult. The electric hatred she remembered resurfaced in her palms, making them burn as if she had been scorched in a fire. She balled them into fists to keep the rage from escaping. “I could kill you right now,” she mused softly, more to herself than to threaten Zeya. It was an odd sensation, to know she held so much power over this woman who was supposed to be her keeper.

Some untold part of her savored it.

“Do your worst, human,” Zeya sneered. “I certainly do not fear the likes of you.”

“I just want to see Cale,” Leia ground, squashing the primeval urges to lash out. She would not give in to her dark side heritage again. She closed her eyes and recalled the inhuman, callous savagery of her father; how she had been tortured before his eyes, billions of lives incinerated at his command. Leia would die before she allowed herself to become that. “When he finds out that I asked for him and you denied me, it is you who will face certain wrath.” She added the barest touch of Force persuasion to her words.

Zeya’s face remained placid but hollow. She hid her thoughts well. Leia doubted that the other woman would be persuaded by her nudges, but the threat from Cale could be very real. By nursing his pride from the injuries she had given him, he might also forget the seriousness of her transgression. It was the very worst of circumstances, but since she was already in it, Leia intended to use her power as the baby’s mother to manipulate him. He would be eating out of her hand. It was only the beginning of her revenge. “I will take you,” Zeya enunciated each word carefully, “but only so that I might have the pleasure of watching him beat you for your audacity.”

That was a chance Leia was more than willing to take. She stood painstakingly, feeling lightheaded in just that small task. Her stomach grumbled as she passed the tray of food they had brought her. It could wait. Mind over matter.

Zeya snapped a device something like a stun collar around her neck before leading her out of the cell. Two sentries took up position on her flanks when they exited the cell bank. Leia managed to keep from stumbling in fatigue, but only just. She shuffled along at a glacial pace, irritating Zeya to the point she feared a blow. But her captor restrained herself, thankfully.

She was brought to the door of his private chambers again, the same she had been violated in less than a standard week before. She shivered violently, unable to block his phantom touch. Perhaps forcing an audience with him hadn’t been the best idea after all. It was too late now.

The hatch slid up and open and she was shoved inside ahead of Zeya. A new blow knocked her to her knees where she wisely stayed put. “Premier?” Zeya called in the common room. Leia felt him draw near before he ever came into sight.

“What is she doing here?” he addressed his second. Once again he was attired in a spotless white uniform, tailored more loosely than the old Imperial style; more like formal Jedi robes than anything, Leia ruminated. His raven hair was pinned at the back of his neck, but his wide black eyes fixed on Zeya.

“She requested an audience, Sir,” Zeya clipped, formal.

Cale turned at last to where Leia hunkered. “What do you want?” he was cold, dismissive. Leia quaked visibly, horrified just being near him.

“It’s the baby,” she whispered, and didn’t have to feign the worry overmuch. “I’m afraid for it.”

“Why?” he snapped, clearly hating the sight of her. So much for the ‘forgetting her transgressions’ part.

“My conditions,” Leia continued, bravery building. “Women in my state have been known to miscarry. I need light, I need food, I need care. I cannot thrive in that environment, and so our child will suffer.” That, at least, was true. If she had to spend nine months in that dark cell the baby would be lucky to even be born at all.

“You are a danger to myself and my people. You will be kept in confinement,” he waved one hand, motioning for Zeya to take her away.

“No!” Leia gasped, shrugging away and throwing herself prostrate at his feet. Her pride was of no matter anymore. She just had to get home. Tears welled in her eyes as she thought of her beloved scoundrel. Force help her if he couldn’t forgive her for what she was about to do. If I don’t, I might never see you again, she swallowed hard. “You…you can’t send me back.”

“Why not?” his glossy pupils were uncaring. If there was any compassion in that man at all he would have to acquiesce…

“Because,” she closed her eyes and concentrated on the rough feel of the carpet under her cheek, “I think I’m in love with you.” There was a very heavy silence for so long Leia thought she might suffocate.

“Liar,” he laughed at last. “You tried to kill me.”

“I don’t…” she paused, gathering the right phrase of her lie, “I don’t want to. But I can’t stop thinking of your touch. I can’t stop…remembering. I’ve never felt this before,” it was all true, just not like she was spinning it. The nauseating sensation she got when she thought about what they had done was a hard thing to forget. Hopefully he would sense only the truth about it.

“You’re not going to believe her, are you?” Zeya interrupted. Leia could imagine the aghast expression on her pretty face, and it amused her. “She’s playing you, Cale.”

Cale was strangely voiceless for a long while. Leia kept her face in the carpet, squeezing her eyelids tight that the tears might not fall through. “I don’t think you’re telling the truth,” he began slowly after a time, “but I cannot think of a motive. You might be trying to manipulate or kill me, or even escape, but there are a thousand other lies you could tell that might give you the same advantage. Why this lie?” he pondered aloud.

“Because she knows it’s the one that will guarantee your ensnarement!” Zeya stuttered. “Cale, she’s appealing to your ego…”

“Are you suggesting that I’m letting anything other than logic rule my thinking?” Cale snapped at her. Leia sensed the woman stiffen at his anger, and it was at that moment she knew she had won. Staunchly she clamped down on the sense of victory.

“It is no secret that all males think with their—”

“I highly suggest that you do not finish that,” Cale whispered. Zeya made no further objection.

“Get up, Leia,” he ordered. She came up onto her knees and fixed her gaze of his boots.

“Let me make this perfectly clear: I don’t believe a word coming out of your mouth. But I am extremely curious as to the game you are playing, and so I’ve decided to humor you. Frankly, I want to see how this plan of yours fleshes out. Until then, we will pretend as if your lie is fact. Zeya, release her. She will be staying with me tonight.”



''The air was sweltering, almost enough to blister her mild skin. Ash blew with the volcanic wind, putting a caustic burn in her eyes and nose. The ends of her hair frizzed just standing on the landing ramp as the heat evaporated any moisture. Padme blinked in the roasting air and took a stumbling step forward, practically lurching into her husband’s arms.''

''Anakin pulled her close, stilling the tremblings of her hands in a crushing embrace. She was given a moment of peace, and for right then at least she could pretend nothing had changed. He was still her Anakin, strong and beautiful and heroic. Her overpowering love for him was a shelter, and she cried against him in relief.''

''“Shh. It’s all right,” he told her, his lips spoke soothing words against her ear.''

''She wiped at her hot tears, certain that he was right. Anakin had never—and would never—lie to her. Obi-Wan was wrong, so wrong. Her husband was bold, valiant, stalwart and just, in every way. Murder younglings? Turn to the dark side? How could anyone even imagine such things of her Anakin?''

''Padme smiled through her hiccupping sobs, turning her youthful round face up to meet his. But the expected love and devotion wasn’t there. His eyes didn’t brim with the sweet joy of seeing her. They weren’t even Anakin’s eyes, but sickly yellows orbs reflecting the flowing lava around them. “You,” the stranger inside Anakin growled. “You brought him here.”''

''“No, Anakin—no…” she heard herself say, as if from a far away place. He spoke again, confusing things she didn’t understand or even really hear. All she knew was that the man she loved was inexplicably gone and in his place was the most terrifying being she had ever seen.''

''Padme jerked away from him, staggering backwards in a state of utter despair and fear. It couldn’t be true. It was a dream, a nightmare. Anakin Skywalker was the most compassionate being she had ever encountered, he didn’t have the capacity for the dark side. There was no explanation…''

''He made a fist and at once she couldn’t breathe. Her hands clawed at the invisible noose in vain, pulling and struggling with all her might. The babies in her womb kicked, throwing a whole new wave of alarm in the mix. She couldn’t die, they needed her. ''

''The gloved hand continued to squeeze, tightening its invisible grip on her. She stared at her love, imploring silently with her gaze. Just let me go, she thought. ''You love me, Anakin. I know it. Let me go…''

''The black fist grew, an armored ebony substance crawling up his arm and over his shoulder. It followed the line of his collar, down his chest to wrap around his waist. It plastered against his legs, all the way to his feet. With horror she watched his face changed and grow, the cheek bones raise into defined peaks, a flat triangle form between his mouth and chin. The flowing blond locks solidified into a black helmet, shading the ghastly visage of her worst nightmare. ''

''Padme would have screamed if she had had any breath. A panting laugh haunted the air between them as Darth Vader suffocated her slowly, excruciatingly. He watched and he laughed. ''

''The flames were her only witness. ''

“No!”

The night of a strange room met her as Padme flew awake. Her heart pounded so hard she thought it would burst through her rib cage and flop into her lap. Sweat caked her silver hair to her scalp, and her nightgown was damp from perspiration. Her hands trembled as she brought them over her face, trying to find calm.

It wasn’t the first time she had had that dream. In fact, she had a version of it almost every night since she had awakened in her tomb on Naboo. Yet the strength of it never failed to terrify her to the core, to shake the very foundations of her soul. It had been almost ten years later that she had forgiven Anakin—truly—but nothing would ever erase that awful day.

Padme collapsed backwards onto the bed, gathering together all the new pieces of her life for comfort. She had a family again. She had held her precious baby boy in her arms again, had finally heard the most beautiful word in the galaxy.

Mother.

She was a mother. He had called her so. He had forgiven her, taken her to his home, promised her a space in his life. The light in her beloved shown bright in their son still. “Oh, Anakin,” she sighed aloud, rubbing her eyes. “If only we could have raised them together.”

It was silly to speak to a ghost, she knew. But somehow, Padme knew he was listening. He was watching over her and their children. With all her heart she believed it. She even had more encouragement now, after what Jaina had told her. He had been redeemed in the end, had saved their baby. The light had welcomed him home in death. There he would wait for her, until her time came too. “I loved you through it all,” she whispered against the pillow, and let the thought bring her peace.