Chapter Text
There is still good in him.
Padmé Amidala Naberrie’s final words echoed in her mind as she felt life draining from her. Obi-Wan wouldn’t believe it—she knew as much from their conversation before the Jedi Master had stowed away on her ship and ruined her chance to get through to Anakin before it was too late. All she could hope for was that some day, one or both of her newly born children would believe what she knew without a doubt to be true.
Padmé surrendered to the void.
Then, her eyes opened.
Padmé had no particular ideas about what the afterlife would entail, but her current surroundings didn’t seem particularly afterlife-y. In fact, they looked an awful lot like the hangar of the Royal Palace in Theed. And the girl in Nabooian handmaiden’s dress who was currently looking quizzically down at her looked an awful lot like…
Herself. She knew those birthmarks—one just under the right corner of her mouth, and another on her left cheek. And she knew those deep brown eyes from looking in the mirror every morning of her life. There was no doubt that this was the face of 14-year-old Queen Amidala, disguised as her own handmaiden. Flanking her were Sabé, dressed as the Queen, of course, and a very concerned-looking Qui-Gon Jinn. As she turned her head to look around her, she saw a young and very cross-looking Obi-Wan Kenobi standing a few paces back.
“Are you alright?” asked Padmé’s young self.
“Shockingly so,” Padmé replied.
“She must have been injured in the droid attack,” surmised Qui-Gon. “We should take her with us. She may need medical attention.”
“Master, you can’t seriously be asking us to bring along another foundling?” asked Obi-Wan. “We’re already taking the Gungan; surely we—”
“It is the Jedi way to help those in need, my young padawan,” said Qui-Gon calmly but sternly.
“I don’t think I need medical attention,” said Padmé, “but if you’re trying to run the blockade, I would very much like to get off this planet right now. I have experience as a diplomat that may be useful to you as well.”
Master Qui-Gon offered a large, calloused hand to Padmé to help her up. There was no time to consider the absurdity of the situation—if she’d actually found herself somehow transported back to the time of the Naboo Crisis, getting on the ship was crucial. She hurried up the landing ramp, ignoring Padawan Kenobi’s scowl—had he really been this much of an ass back then? She supposed he hadn’t really changed, then.
No, that wasn’t fair to the man. Padmé had always had her issues with Kenobi, particularly in regard to his treatment of Anakin, but she had, for the most part, respected him for the majority of her life. It was only really in the last two days of said life, thirteen years in the future, that she felt like the Jedi Master had truly lost her respect. Emotions were high on all fronts after the fall of the Republic and the Jedi Order, yes, but Kenobi’s insistence that Anakin had to be killed, and his betrayal of her trust to do so, combined with his absolutely Force-awful timing in making his presence known just as she felt she was starting to get through to her husband—
Well, it gave her the very un-Senator Amidala-like urge to punch this young version of him in his smug face.
With her safely aboard the royal cruiser, the craft lifted off for its run through the Trade Federation blockade. If all went as it had the first time she had experienced these events, the ship would be damaged in the escape attempt, but heroically repaired by…
Artoo, right. This was the day she first made the acquaintance of the plucky little astromech droid she would one day give to her husband in lieu of a wedding ring. If she really was being given a second chance, she definitely knew some events she would like to influence (particularly those involving the present senator of Naboo), but it was crucially important for the life of young Padmé that this next series of events proceed exactly as they had the first time around. Padmé wasn’t Force-sensitive, but if anything had ever truly been “the will of the Force,” as so many Jedi loved to say, it was the events that had brought her to Tatooine, and to, well…
Anakin. Not Anakin, the man she fell in love with ten years later—that would come later, but Anakin, the funny little nine-year-old boy who had asked her if she was an angel without a trace of anything but agonizing sincerity. Even then, Anakin had seen her as few others did—not as Amidala the queen, or Padmé the handmaiden, but Padmé Naberrie, the girl.
Force, she was so young. She looked across the ship at her younger self, recognizing the subtle sadness in her eyes that would never really go away for the rest of her life. Padmé had never really entertained the thought during her life that she ‘deserved’ better than what she had—she had grown up comfortably, lived most of her life in the upper tiers of Nabooian and then Coruscanti society, and had never wanted for anything material—but her new outside perspective gave her newfound clarity. Young Padmé deserved so much better. The whole galaxy did, of course, as well, but Padmé swore an oath to herself—both of them—at this moment: she was going to do everything she could to give young Padmé the kind of life she had never been able to enjoy.
Her younger self would get to live in domestic bliss with Anakin (because Padmé knew herself well enough to know that regardless of anything that changed, as long as she and Anakin were aware of each other’s existence, Anakin would fall in love with her immediately, and eventually she would fall for Anakin in return. This was simply a fact of the universe.), and to raise the children the older Padmé had barely gotten a chance to see before her death. She could fight Palpatine in ways her younger self couldn’t. She could give Obi-Wan a stern talking-to about what Anakin needed from him. She could set the galaxy right.
…And it still wouldn’t bring Anakin, her Anakin, the man she loved more than every star in the night sky, back. But young Padmé would get her Anakin, and that was the dearest gift she could ever give the girl. Whatever changed in the timeline, the road ahead for the two of them wouldn’t be smooth, but it would be worth it, because Anakin was worth it. So, so, very worth it. She clutched the japor snippet hanging from her neck. Soon enough, young Padmé would have one of her own, freshly carved by the sweet young boy who would one day bring new color into her world. She quickly tucked the talisman under her shirt, and took note that she would need to keep it hidden, lest young Padmé notice it and ask questions.
The ship shook as the Trade Federation bombarded it. In the corner of her eye, Padmé saw Artoo ascending the tube to access the vessel’s exterior, where he would heroically fix their hyperdrive and grant them their escape. Everything was proceeding as it needed to. All she had to do for now was stand back and not interfere. Everyone else on the ship was too preoccupied with their current do-or-die situation to really take note of her.
Finally, the shaking stopped, and Captain Ric Olié shouted from the bridge that the little astromech had done his job. Padmé smiled as the ship snapped into hyperspace.
With the present danger averted, Master Qui-Gon turned his attention to her again. “Forgive me, my lady,” he said, “but it seems in all the confusion I forgot to even ask you your name.”
“Leia,” Padmé answered. It was the only answer she could give, really; the name of her future daughter.
“Any surname?”
“Just ‘Leia’ will do.”
“Very well, Just Leia,” said Qui-Gon, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “I’m glad to make your acquaintance. I am Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn, and with me—” he looked around the ship to find Obi-Wan, then gestured for the young Jedi to come and greet her himself—“is Padawan Learner Obi-Wan Kenobi.”
Padmé held out her hand and forced a smile. “Pleased to meet you, Padawan Kenobi,” she said as she shook his hand. “Likewise,” he said, too cheerfully. She reminded herself that this wasn’t yet the same man who bungled the confrontation on Mustafar, and with any luck, he never would be. Still, at present, he was the young man—two years younger than herself now, she realized—who had complained about letting her on board, and who was now smirking at her in what she supposed he thought was a flirtatious manner. How had this incorrigible man already seduced Duchess Kryze? She pointedly looked away from him, doing the best with her body language to indicate not interested. She thankfully didn’t expect Obi-Wan to press the issue further if she rejected him, which was good, because they were definitely going to be seeing a lot of each other if she was going to browbeat him into actually understanding Anakin.
Then again, if Master Qui-Gon hadn’t died, it would have been him who took Anakin on as his apprentice, rather than Obi-Wan, right? Unfortunately Padmé couldn’t think of any way within her power to save Qui-Gon when the confrontation with Maul happened; she had no illusions about her chances in a fight with a Sith Lord, as a non-Force-sensitive with only basic combat training, and it wasn’t like she could simply warn the Jedi not to engage with their ancient enemy. Perhaps she could suggest they bring additional Jedi along on their return to Naboo, but she didn’t know how much weight her voice would carry with Qui-Gon, to say nothing of Obi-Wan. She had only known Qui-Gon for such a short time, anyway; not truly long enough to say whether he would be a better teacher to young Anakin than his apprentice had, although Padmé certainly had her suspicions.
“Are you a native of Naboo, Leia?” Qui-Gon asked.
“Yes,” Padmé replied. “I’ve spent a lot of time off-world, doing… assorted things, but Naboo is home for me.”
“I’m so sorry,” said Qui-Gon. “I hadn’t expected the Federation to move straight to a ground invasion, and we had hoped to prevent that by negotiating an equitable solution with Viceroy Gunray. Unfortunately, the Viceroy chose instead to destroy our ship and send battle droids to kill us.”
“Don’t forget the poison gas, master,” said Obi-Wan.
“Yes, they did also attempt to poison us, although my padawan should perhaps consider not interjecting himself into conversations he isn’t a part of.” Obi-Wan pouted. Padmé couldn’t lie and say she wasn’t enjoying watching the man she had known as Anakin’s master being chastised the same way he had done to Anakin countless times. Qui-Gon was gentler and more good-humored about it, though, which she added to the tally of reasons she should try and ensure his survival.
“Surely there must be some recourse you can take?” she said, fully knowing there almost certainly wasn’t. “A major corporation with Senate representation attempting to assassinate members of the Jedi Order seems like quite a serious crime.”
“I’m afraid that as far as the Senate is concerned, the Jedi should simply do what they’re asked without complaining,” said Qui-Gon. “We don’t make anyone any money, you see, so our safety is quite far from their priority—unlike that of the Trade Federation.”
“That’s horrible. I can’t believe the Republic could be so corrupt.” Padmé in fact could believe it, but the treatment of the Jedi by the Senate was abhorrent nonetheless, and something which she should probably attempt to fight back against. She didn’t agree with all of the Jedi Order’s tenets or customs, but they were ultimately a monastic order who served the people without demand for compensation and had no ambitions beyond existing in peace, and who were very effective at helping those the Republic would otherwise abandon, even if they had certain blind spots—like the continued widespread slavery in the Outer Rim.
“I’m afraid the Republic’s glory days as a bastion of democracy are behind it,” said Qui-Gon. “I’m deeply concerned for what that means for the galaxy and for our Order, but I cannot let such thoughts consume me. The future is always in motion, after all.”
The irony of Qui-Gon’s words in the context of her current situation did not escape Padmé.
“But enough about me and the Jedi,” Qui-Gon continued. “You’re the one whose planet is being occupied by a megacorp’s droid army. My heart breaks for the people of Naboo, and I shall do everything within my power to end this horrible invasion and return your world to its rightful sovereignship.”
Padmé smiled. Even knowing the path of future events, it was comforting to hear the Jedi Master’s condolences and assurance of support. “That means a great deal to me, Master Jedi,” she said, bowing her head slightly. Qui-Gon took his cue to pull Obi-Wan aside and converse with him in hushed tones, and Padmé had the opportunity to look around at the royal starship’s other passengers. There was Sabé, disguised as the queen, and the other handmaidens Eirtaé and Rabé sitting alongside young Padmé, then, further back and looking quite distressed and out of place, the Gungan Jar Jar Binks. She walked over to Jar Jar.
“Hellosa,” said the Gungan cheerfully. “Meesa Jar Jar Binks. What being yousa name?”
“Leia,” said Padmé. “Tell me, Jar Jar, how did a Gungan get involved in this mess?”
“The mechaneeks, they invading us-a too, yousa know,” said Jar Jar, almost defiantly. “Meesa almost die, but the Jedi be saving me. Then meesa helping them get to the Queen.”
“Well, I think we’re all certainly in your debt, then, Jar Jar. I’m sorry to hear the Federation is targeting your people as well.” Padmé already knew all of this information from her past life, but this conversation was more for Jar Jar’s sake than hers. Even she had been dismissive of the Gungan in her first time living these events, and she intended to correct that mistake.
“Thank-a yousa,” said Jar Jar. “Most of the hyumansa, they no caring about us Gungans at all. Meesa thinking they leaving me behind for sure when wesa getting to the spaceship, but I guessa theysa nicer than meesa thinking.”
“The Queen is a kind woman, certainly,” said Padmé, feeling slightly bashful about surreptitiously complimenting herself, “and the Jedi are good people as well.”
“Meesa seeing that. Although meesa not so sure the small Jedi be liking me so much.”
Hearing Obi-Wan described as the “small Jedi” made Padmé giggle. “He’ll come around, I’m sure of it. You’re hard not to like, Jar Jar.”
“Yousa muy nice too, miss Leia.”
Padmé considered whether talking to her younger self was a good idea or not, but it ultimately wouldn’t be her choice. “Leia, was it?” said a very familiar voice behind her. She turned around to see young Padmé.
“Yes, it is.”
“I’m Padmé, one of the Queen’s handmaidens.” Padmé focused hard on not reacting to her younger self’s attempt at deception—after all, she was in a similar situation. “I just wanted to check if you were alright.”
“I am, thank you very much Padmé,” she said, smiling softly.
“Do you know what happened to you?”
“I’m not entirely sure. I must have been knocked out during the invasion. How I got to the Palace hangar, though, is anyone’s guess. Maybe one of the droids moved me while I was out?”
Young Padmé didn’t seem completely convinced by this explanation, but she shrugged it off. “You said you had diplomatic experience, right?”
“Yes, I do. Quite a bit of it.”
Young Padmé nodded thoughtfully. “Perhaps ~the Queen~ could use your help when we get to Coruscant,” she said. “I fear we may be facing an uphill battle in the Senate.”
“Based on what I just heard from Master Qui-Gon, I don’t doubt it,” said Padmé. “You’re awfully politically astute, aren’t you, handmaiden?”
Young Padmé blushed. “I try my best,” she said shyly. “We handmaidens have to learn a lot about a lot of things, so we can best assist the Queen in her duties.”
“I’m sure,” said Padmé. “It’s nice to meet you, Padmé. You’ve been very kind to me, and I appreciate that.”
“Thank you. You’re very kind as well, Leia.”
The hyperspace journey would take several days even in a ship this fast, and the royal starship’s lights now dimmed as it began its night cycle. Padmé found an open bunk and lay down. What a surreal experience, she thought. She clutched the Japor snippet and thought of Anakin—the boy she would meet shortly, and the man who was lost to her forever. Tears filled her eyes. All she had ever wanted, in the end, was to be happy with Anakin, and even this chance to do things over could never give her that. Once again she would be living her life for the sake of others, even if one of those others was technically herself. Oh, Ani, she thought, as if her husband might hear her thoughts across the barriers of time and space, you’re just going to keep breaking my heart, aren’t you? She knew already that every time she saw young Anakin, or the budding friendship and eventual romance between him and young Padmé, or, Force willing, their long, happy life together, she would die just a little.
Apparently she hadn’t been as silent in her crying as she intended to be, as she now saw young Padmé standing beside her bunk with a worried look. “Are you alright, Leia?” she asked.
“I’m okay,” said Padmé through her tears. “I’m just… thinking about my husband. He meant the world to me, and he’s… gone now. It’s hard to handle the grief sometimes.”
“I’m so sorry,” said the supposed handmaiden, “can I… give you a hug, Leia?”
Padmé tearfully nodded, and her young self wrapped her arms around her as Padmé did the same. She was struck for a moment by the absurdity of hugging herself, but quickly melted in the comfort provided by her counterpart’s touch. Padmé had always greatly appreciated physical contact with her loved ones, and at this moment, there was no one dearer to her than her young self. “Thank you, Padmé,” she said through her tears. “Of course,” replied young Padmé.
Padmé had always tried throughout her life to be a source of comfort to others, as her young self was doing presently, but it struck her that this was the first time she had received that comfort herself. Recognizing her own kindness from the outside was a strange experience, but not an unpleasant one at all.
“Are you feeling any better now?” young Padmé asked her.
“Yes,” said Padmé, breaking the hug at long last. “Thank you once again for being there for me.”
“It was no trouble at all. Please don’t hesitate to ask me if you need anything in the future.”
“I appreciate that, and I’ll extend that same offer to you.”
Young Padmé smiled. “I like you a lot already, Leia. I’m very much looking forward to getting to know you better.”
“Likewise,” said Padmé. That wasn’t a lie, despite what it might seem—this conversation had shown Padmé that there was a significant difference between knowing what it was like to be herself and knowing what she was like to the outside world.
“Goodnight, Leia,” said young Padmé, before heading off to her own bunk.
“Goodnight, Padmé,” Padmé replied, and this time, when she lay down and clutched the Japor snippet, sleep came easily.