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Padmé’s hand quivered as she held the small knife to Anakin’s throat. She could barely see, tears blurring her vision.
Oh gods, oh Force, this—this wasn’t how it was supposed to be. This was her husband, the father of her children, but for nearly a year she’d seen a change taking hold in him, a change that she couldn’t be a part of.
He grasped her hand, and despite how familiar that hand was to her, she jumped. He brought the knife closer, looking only at her.
“Do it,” told her, sounding so sure of himself. When Padmé found that she couldn’t move, had been completely frozen, he yelled, “Do it!”
She jumped back at his suddenly loud voice, at the pain and anger in it. But at looking upon his face, for a few moments she saw the man she’d married, that little boy she’d met on Tatooine. Ani.
“P-please, Anakin, I can’t. You’re breaking my heart.”
He reached for her, and she stepped away. Without meaning to, she put a protective hand over her swollen belly. Anakin’s newly-yellow gaze traveled there.
“You think I’d harm our baby?” he snarled.
“I don’t know what you would do! You’ve been lying to me, keeping—keeping all these dark things locked away.”
“At least I wasn’t conspiring behind your back to have you killed! You lied to me!"
“I had to! You know what you are!” she screamed at him. “You’re—you’re what you swore to never be. I had to do it, for the safety of the Republic.”
“I’m doing this for the Republic.”
Padmé shook her head, backing away towards her ship. Oh Force, she was a coward. She couldn’t do it, she just couldn’t do it. But the least she could do would be to escape, help foster that rebellion she’d slowly been building.
“You destroyed the Republic. With the help of the Chancellor—”
“I brought justice!”
A sob left Padmé, and she asked, “Is killing younglings justice? If told to do so, would you have killed our child? Have killed me?”
He stepped closer. “Padmé—”
“No, stay back!”
“I would never hurt you.”
“You are hurting me. I don’t know who you are anymore.”
“I’m your husband! I love you!” he argued, face suddenly darkening, contorting with rage.
Padmé stopped breathing when he grabbed the hilt of his lightsaber. That was when she dropped the knife. She didn’t know how to be a diplomat in this situation. How could she be while confronting the evil thing that had used to be her husband? He still had been, for mere moments, and that was why she hadn’t been able to kill him.
And this person in front of her, part of him was so familiar, but maybe that was all in the past.
Just let go, she told herself. You have to let go.
But she couldn’t. She was carrying this man’s child, for Force’s sake! How could anyone let go of that?
After a few tries of opening and closing her mouth and nothing coming out, Padmé eventually said, voice quavering, “You decided to not be my husband from the first moment you became a Sith. And look at yourself! What are you going to do? Kill me?”
“I would never!”
“Then put the lightsaber away.”
“Padmé, please!”
“Put the lightsaber away!”
All of Padmé’s world ceased to make sense as the blade ignited and he charged at her. Suddenly, there was a whoosh of air as someone jumped over her, flipping. Obi-Wan landed before, his own lightsaber intercepting Anakin’s.
“You will not harm her, Anakin,” he declared.
She wanted to ask Obi-Wan how the hell he’d ended up on Mustafar with them, but there was no time as a vicious duel began, and she didn’t have proper training to intervene.
Shaking her head, she retreated to the ship. She hadn’t just lied to Anakin. She’d lied to herself in thinking she could kill him. Even now, she couldn’t. Part of her hoped that Obi-Wan would be able to do it for her, and she hated herself for that thought.
Too in shock to even beg them to stop, she sat down on the ramp, a hand over her mouth as she watched brothers try to kill each other.