Work Text:
Bail Organa, possessor of already quite a lot, came into possession of a few things more when his dearest—now deadest—friend, Padmé Amidala, left them to his care. Most were things he had volunteered to take on the responsibility for: a daughter, a fledgling political conspiracy. The eight foot-tall endangered Naboo ostrich, whose plumage he had often admired when he saw it standing in the corner of his friend’s office, was not.
Inheriting custody of the ostrich had been a complete surprise, fitting punctuation to finish off the longest week of his life. He had left Coruscant in a hurry and forgotten to pack his comm charger, which meant that, as he raced hither and thither across the galaxy responding to a flock of crises, he’d had no idea that his aides were trying to contact him. Only after he had placed Leia in his wife’s arms—and gazed adoringly at the pair for a good quarter-hour—did he think to borrow a charger to see if anyone beyond his most immediate co-conspirators was trying to get in touch. They were: in addition to hundreds of missed calls from political allies and concerned colleagues, he’d gotten eighty-seven increasingly frantic messages from his aides. At the time, he’d wondered why so many of those messages were about birds—was it a code for something he had forgotten? But when he returned to Coruscant, he discovered that the bird throwing his office into such a frenzy was, in fact, a literal bird, its black feathers glossy under the fluorescents, hissing malevolently whenever someone went too near it.
None of his aides knew what to do about it. Bail didn’t know what to do about it, either. He had never given a thought to the ostrich’s care and feeding when he had seen it in his friend’s office. In all their years of friendship, Padmé had never once thought to warn him that he’d be given custody of her ostrich if anything happened to her. He did not even know if the ostrich had a name.
Ordinarily, he might have reached out to the Naboo Senatorial Office for assistance. This was impossible now. The Senator was dead, her two aides (Padmé had been consistently winnowing away her staff for years) were missing, and Senate Security had sealed the offices to investigate. The next best option, consulting a Naboo ornithologist, was also out of the question—the planet’s airspace was on lockdown and their comms had been cut off.
Coruscant had zoos, though, and eventually they found one willing to send an expert over to consult about the ostrich. It took about thirty seconds for the zoo’s expert to point out that that leaves of a potted tree were looking awfully sparse, and that the ostrich had been snacking on that all along.
“He’ll need more nutritional variation than that eventually,” the expert informed them. “You’ll need to get him some worms, for the protein. And that fruit—” he pointed at a little bowl of shuuras on Hermelin’s desk, “—keep that filled up, too. That was good thinking, putting it out for him.”
Hermelin, who had certainly not intended to share snacks with an ostrich, took the compliment with a strained smile. The ostrich, his wiles now exposed, pulled a few more leaves off the tree.
“He’s a beaut,” the expert said admiringly. “Finest ostrich I’ve ever seen. Let me give you my card, I’d like to check on him again in a few months.”
So that was one problem solved; the ostrich would not starve. Bail increased the office decor budget and gave his scheduler, who lived near a garden center, the extra money to bring in fresh plants twice a week. Things began to settle into a routine. Everyone got a good idea of how close they could walk to the ostrich before he would start hissing and, though no one was exactly comfortable with the way he loomed over them, they began to trust that he would leave them alone if they didn’t provoke him.
Rumors fluttered through the building, and soon the Alderaanian Senatorial Office had a steady trickle of visitors hoping to catch a glimpse of the bird. The Senate was vast, and Bail sometimes found himself greeting colleagues from planets he’d never even heard of. Exchanging bland pleasantries about ostrich-rearing provided a terribly convenient excuse to ask a few subtle questions to gauge these newcomers’ loyalties, and he was surprised by how many promising new contacts he made this way. At times, he wondered whether Padmé had left him the bird for exactly that purpose. His network grew, lush in the way the foliage of the office plants had once been. Very few people could be trusted with the business of outright rebellion, but there were safer favors to trade, and any information he could get was valuable.
There was one visitor, however, with whom he dared not attempt this. A few weeks after the formation of the Empire, Bail entered his office to find a figure in a dark, hooded cloak looking up at the ostrich.
“Your Excellency,” Bail said politely, bowing his head. He did not flinch when his guest turned to look at him.
“Senator Organa,” Emperor Palpatine said cordially. “I was just admiring your very handsome ostrich. A relic of my home planet, I believe?”
“Yes, a bequest from Senator Amidala.”
“Dear me,” Palpatine said, with a sad little shake of his head, “you must be honored that she entrusted you with such a gift.”
“Of course,” Bail agreed. “Though I rather wish she was still here to enjoy the bird’s company herself.”
“We are all poorer for her loss,” Palpatine said gravely. “She was my protege, you know, long before she first ran for queen. Even as a child, I could tell she would do incredible things.”
“She was quite the visionary—the Senate will much worse off without her.”
“Such a pity, that one of the galaxy’s brightest lights should be extinguished so soon.” Palpatine paused, then lowered his voice. “A pity about the baby, too. Do you know if it was a girl or a boy?”
“No, she always kept her personal life very private. I can only guess at who the father might have been.”
“Oh, I think we all know the answer to that question,” Palpatine said with a small, fake laugh. “But I ought to congratulate you! I hear you’ve recently become a father yourself.”
“Yes,” Bail said, smiling and hating the direction the conversation was taking, “We’re delighted—really couldn’t be happier. I haven’t been able to get home much, of course, but she’s really the sweetest baby. And the timing is so auspicious, what with the restoration of peace to the galaxy and all. Breha has the most dreadful cousin, we’ve been saying for years we needed someone better to inherit the throne—” He was rambling. He needed to stop himself.
Palpatine smiled benevolently, a familiar expression that looked strange on his recently-disfigured face. “How reassuring to hear that Alderaan will be left in good hands.” He nodded toward the ostrich. “I expect she’ll inherit the bird, too. Naboo ostriches are famously long-lived, he’ll likely be a fixture in her court long after the two of us are gone.”
“A testament to the friendship between our two planets.”
“Indeed,” Palpatine agreed. “It’s quite a comfort to me, seeing him in your care. I was worried that in the wake of Senator Amidala’s tragic death, he might have been packed off to a zoo.”
“A dreadful thought,” Bail said. “I would be a very poor friend to treat something she treasured so carelessly. I suppose she must have left you something as well?”
“Oh yes,” the Emperor said with a smile. “She left me something very valuable, very valuable indeed.”
—
A week after their exchange about the ostrich, Bail was summoned to meet with the Emperor. He went fearfully, certain that all his secrets were about to be revealed, but as he was ushered into the office and made his way across that vast sea of red carpet, the shrunken little figure sitting behind the desk looked up and smiled at him.
“Senator Organa!” The Emperor cried, “How good of you to come!”
There was something—someone, Bail supposed—standing behind the Emperor, a little to the side. It was tall and hulking, cloaked in black, with a strange and terrifying black helmet that gleamed in the soft lamplight.
The Emperor noticed Bail staring. He smiled. “I wanted to introduce you to Lord Vader,” he said, as if he was bestowing a very great gift. “My new right hand, he’s to command the Imperial Fleet. He’ll be a common fixture around the Senate soon enough, but I thought you ought to be the first to meet him.”
“I am honored, Your Excellency,” Bail said, bowing his head and trying very hard not to think about why a military leader would spend much time stalking the halls of the Senate.
“Some of your colleagues might be intimidated by him,” the Emperor said with a little frown. “Power like his frightens them, all they can think about is how it might be unleashed at them. But he’s quite tame. He only hunts the enemies of the Empire, never those committed to building it up.”
“Certainly not,” Bail said, his mouth dry.
“I hoped you could demystify him for the other Senators. You are celebrated as a voice of reason, surely you can help them understand Lord Vader’s commitment to the goal we all share.”
“Of course,” Bail agreed.
The Emperor turned a little to address Lord Vader. “Senator Organa has a little daughter—how old is she now, Bail?”
“Two months.”
“How sweet. Our great work, Lord Vader, is for the benefit of children like Princess Organa. So young and innocent. We must be ruthless in creating a galaxy where they will only know peace.”
Lord Vader said nothing. The only sound in the room was the deep, rhythmic rasp of his respirator.
—
Time passed, as it inevitably does. Leia was beginning to smile and babble and squirm out of Breha’s arms during their holocalls, and all Bail wanted in the galaxy was to go home to join them. But there was too much work to be done on Coruscant.
It might have been easier to get that work done without the ostrich. He still did not like anyone in the Alderaanian Senatorial Office, but he seemed to have developed a grudging respect for Bail—which, unfortunately, manifested in the form of following Bail wherever he went. It was awkward. Awkward to have committee meetings interrupted by a menacing hiss, awkward to deliver speeches with a hulking pile of rage and feathers sharing the Senate pod (attempts to prevent the ostrich’s entry had resulted in an unfortunate pecking frenzy). Awkward to walk through the halls feeling the stares of the crowd, and to hear, just behind him, the soft clicking of the ostrich’s claws on the marble floor.
There was one benefit. The ostrich’s sudden passion for exercise provided Bail an ideal excuse to wander the far reaches of the Senate complex, popping his head into offices for a spot of conversation as he passed them. And it seemed unfair that the poor thing should spend all its time in the artificial lights and filtered air of an office building, so Bail began to bring it outside to enjoy the slightly-less-artificial light and slightly-less-filtered air of the least-surveilled corners of Coruscant’s parks. Ordinarily, he might have worried about being mugged, a problem not even the Senate district was free of. With an enormous, violent bird at his back, that fear was gone and he was able to focus on arranging shady credit transfers and materiel shipments for the galaxy’s budding rebel cells.
The ostrich was not the only menace stalking the halls of the Senate. Lord Vader had become a common sight, just as the Emperor had promised. It was inevitable that the two would meet, but Bail, never possessed of a prophetic nature, was still surprised when it happened. He was walking through a busy hall (right outside the Senate chamber, always packed with beings) and thinking how convenient it was that crowds always parted to avoid the ostrich, when he realized how unusually quiet everyone around him had fallen. He looked up, and saw that the crowd was parting from the other direction, too. There was Wilhuff Tarkin—recently appointed a Moff, whatever that meant—strutting down the hall with Lord Vader a step behind him. They reached Bail, and Tarkin stopped.
“Senator Organa,” he said with a nod.
“Moff Tarkin,” Bail replied. “My congratulations on your promotion.”
“Of course,” Tarkin said. He looked over at the ostrich, distaste evident on his face. “My goodness, does that beast follow you everywhere?”
“We’re trying to make him stop,” Bail said with a rueful smile. “But we haven’t managed yet. And he does need exercise.”
Tarkin’s lip curled. “I’ve heard it’s quite the menace. You ought to keep that thing on a leash.”
“I’m afraid to injure his neck. Besides, he never wanders off. He’s always right behind me.”
“Well, keep it away from me,” Tarkin said. “I’ve never been fond of birds.”
“Of course,” Bail agreed. He nodded politely toward Tarkin’s companion. “Lord Vader, a pleasure.”
Lord Vader said nothing. It was unclear if he had heard even a word of the conversation. Bail shrugged, and he and the ostrich continued down the hall.
—
Emperor Palpatine, it seemed, had developed some strange fondness for Bail. He was summoned to the Emperor’s office again. Despite his staff’s best efforts—Hermelin would probably need stitches—the ostrich insisted on coming along. Bail resigned himself to whatever the punishment for such an insult would be, and was surprised by how genuinely pleased the Emperor looked to see the ostrich follow him in.
“Senator Organa!” He said, rising from his desk to walk toward the pair, “I was hoping you might bring your ostrich.”
“A memory of Naboo,” Bail said. “I do not begrudge the constant effort needed to set our young Empire on the right course, but one cannot help missing home now and then.”
“Certainly,” Emperor Palpatine said, with a little frown. “Though I fear there are no more ostriches on Naboo. In the effort to bring peace to the planet, their habitat was all destroyed.”
Bail had heard about how ruthlessly the uprisings on Naboo had been crushed, but he had given little thought to the environmental impact. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he told the Emperor, “I hope that in time we’ll learn a few found refuge and survived.”
“I very much doubt that,” the Emperor said. He gestured toward the ostrich. “I’m afraid he must be the last of his kind.”
“Perhaps you ought to put it out of its misery,” Lord Vader said. It was the first time Bail had ever heard him speak. His voice, deep and mechanical, sent a chill down Bail’s spine.
“Oh no,” Palpatine said, not even turning to look at Lord Vader, “he’s much too valuable to kill.” He reached out toward the ostrich. Bail’s heart was pounding in his ears, but miraculously, the ostrich did not peck the Emperor. And then—Palpatine did what no one else had dared before, and patted that wretched creature on the beak. “I think you’ll be lonely for a long, long time,” he murmured.
If the ostrich understood, it said nothing. It was, after all, only a bird.