Hello. My name is Padme Naberrie Amidala Skywalker and my husband is a murderer. Not just any murderer. The murderer of jedi. And not just any jedi. The youngest ones. The children.

“He is not a murderer,” Amidala rasped through clenched teeth, attempting to quiet her mind. Every muscle in her body felt tense, taught-- an attempt to hold together the mush her mind had become. But suddenly everything was falling apart. The war had taken a turn for the worse; in the blink of an eye, it had become much more personal.

It couldn’t be true. She couldn’t be losing the one she loved, the father of the child that she carried in her womb. Everything that she had feared in some dark corner of her mind was coming to pass, and Obi-Wan’s words had nestled deeply in her heart where they burned like hot coals.

“Anakin has turned to the dark side...I saw him myself...murdered younglings...”

Amidala’s mind kept desperately scanning the past, searching for some way that she could have prevented this. Perhaps she should have seen it coming after he killed the Tuskens. She had been too soft then, too forgiving.

“How could you do such a thing, Ani? They weren’t all responsible for your mother’s death! Don’t you feel any remorse at all?”

That’s what she should have said. But would it have made any difference?

“...Turned to the dark side..”

“...murdered younglings...”

Amidala was beyond the point of tears now. The steam from the hot coals in her heart was fogging up her mind, replaying Obi-Wan’s words over and over again like some ethereal funeral march.

I have to do something.

With one hand over her abdomen, clutching to the life that remained, Amidala forced herself to stand up. She forced her feet to take her away from the place where Obi-Wan had first sent her world crashing down on her. She forced herself to move toward her bedroom, although the memories that waited in there would further scald her heart because they so completely juxtaposed the image of her husband as a murderer.

I have to go to him.

Although the rest of her mind was muddled beyond belief, this thought was clear.

With this thought guiding her, Amidala stripped free of her heavy Senatorial garb and changed into clothes appropriate for her travels. As she was changing, Amidala glimpsed her reflection and was shocked at the change in her face. The weight of Obi-Wan’s words had aged her, and grief had stripped her cheeks of their color. Her face was devoid of emotion, like the calm before a storm. Yet by the heavy weight behind her eyes and the tight knot in her throat, Amidala had a feeling that the storm would not be held at bay for long.

Her willingness to rush into his arms frightened Amidala. For if Obi-Wan was right, she would be running right into the arms of a murderer. A Sith .

But Obi-Wan might be wrong. Perhaps the security cameras had been

Amidala pressed her fingers against the corners of her eyes, trying to stop the burning that she felt behind them. She could still see him as a young boy, eyes so full of warmth, light, hope...dreams.

I have to go to him.

With a hand much more steady than her heart, Amidala pressed the comm button that would allow her to speak to Captain Typhoo.

“Ready my ship, Captain.”