VIII. MIDNIGHTS
word count: 2099

          Elia felt as though she was rolling in her grave. A fish waiting to be caught on a hook. She laughed to herself then: what did she have to fear when it was not her life at risk? Across her nineteen years, her two lives, Padmé had been the kind of constant that only Aerrik could otherwise be. And yet the waiting, the bitter taste of the unknown, the anticipation snaking through her organs, would not let her rest. Every fibre of Elia's body was ready to fight for Padmé Amidala, whatever it took. She laid in bed, stiff as a board, head turned to look out beyond the thin veil of curtains at the city. The apartment was silent. Elia's body twitched, aching to move, and she finally surrendered.

Pulling herself out of bed, Elia shrugged on a chunky knit cardigan over her pyjamas (she had knitted it herself — one of her earliest creations before she had moved on fabric when she realised wool did not like working with her). She snuck out of her room, darting towards the kitchen. The air was cool, the rooms only lit by passing speeders and moonlight. She found Aerrik snoozing on one of the sofas. She felt bad that he had stayed. He had even refused one of the spare rooms. It made Elia's heart ache for how much he cared for Padmé and herself (and sweet Violet, if he was ever allowed to see her in the Temple). Her brother looked more peaceful than she had seen him in a very long time. She was almost tempted to wake him, but Aerrik deserved his rest. She had not told him of her quickly made plan to, Elia supposed, use herself as bait as Aerrik would have immediately shot it down.

Elia had her comm clutched in her hand and walked to stand by one of the viewports. The curtains were drawn shut, slim rays of light slipping through. The living space was silent besides her footsteps and Aerrik's tiny snores, they were the only ones there. Setting the volume on its lowest setting, Elia commed her future husband.

When the hologram of Oberyn Skywalker Naberrie appeared in her hands, Elia felt at peace. After almost a decade of knowing each other, Oberyn was counted as one of Elia's closest friends and confidants. He understood her in a way no one else did, and they shared more in common than most people in Elia's life.

The Princess was fourteen when her mother announced that she was going to marry her daughter to Naboo's new favourite rising star. Elia had protested for weeks, wondering how she could free herself from an arranged marriage, but there were worse men to marry. Oberyn had the sweetest heart and Elia knew she would be having him beside her for the rest of her life. But she did not love him in that way. And knowing she would not be able to truly fall in love again weighed heavy on her chest.

Five months earlier, Oberyn had climbed to the highest office on Naboo and was elected King. Their engagement had been publicised greatly by Elia's mother, but Elia couldn't complain when it allowed her to swap her other duties in favour of seeing her friend. It was easy, and she was aware how fortunate she was. After ten years as a princess and a royal wedding, Elia was ready to be out from under her mother's thumb. (Maybe she could be Alana again when she was with Oberyn.)

"Padmé told me what is going on," Oberyn said. "How are you?"

"I'm scared." Elia answered truthfully, with no hesitation. "Padmé, then Alerie. I don't know what will happen next. I don't know how to keep anyone safe."

"El, it isn't your job to put yourself in the line of fire and protect everyone. Padmé and Alerie know the risks of the job, and they have protection now."

Elia peeked through the curtains. She was supposed to be out with Lilith again tonight, instead she was trapped and waiting out the small hours until another attack came.

"El?"

She looked back at Oberyn. "Hm?"

"Tell me what you're thinking. You're drifting. I know you're stressed but you're not alone in this."

"The Jedi — at least the Council — thought the threat was coming from farmers on Naboo..."

Oberyn shook his head. "They wouldn't do this. Their yield and income is compromised but I'm working on a solution for them. And that doesn't account for Alerie. What do you think is behind this?"

Elia shrugged. She quietly sunk down on another of the sofas in the living room, away from Aerrik. "I think someone wants the Military Creation Act to pass. There are too many senators who Padmé and Alerie were working against, so that hardly narrows a suspect pool. Surely taking out a political opponent in this way is a bad look? The Jedi will find who is doing this."

"The sooner you get out of Coruscant, the better. You shouldn't have your life revolve around politics."

A short laugh almost escaped her as Elia smiled. "Like yours does?"

"You have more to offer, El. I chose this path, you deserve a chance to choose for yourself."

"Perhaps this wedding is not the worst thing to befall us after all."

They both laughed.

"Don't listen to what your mother says," Oberyn added, "you don't have to rush back home. If you want to stay with Padmé and Alerie, stay."

"Can we really delay it any longer?" Elia asked "Mother has wanted this since I came of age, but I think your election has only made her more desperate."

"Your mother has fixed everything. She wants it done in two weeks, but I can try and push it back again. I think she just wants you to try on your dress."

Elia considered his offer. Surely it would not take more than two weeks to uncover this mystery? "Have you seen the dress?"

Oberyn shook his head. "Don't you know that's bad luck?"

"Since when did you care about Apheli superstitions?" Elia grinned.

"Only when it benefits us." Oberyn looked past Elia through the hologram, like someone had come over to him. It wasn't the same time on Aphelion, there were probably a million things he needed to work on. "I have to go."

Elia's shoulders slumped. "Okay. I'll see you soon?"

"Soon. We need to plan how we're going to run away from the ceremony." Oberyn's eyes sparkled with mischief when he smiled. "And stay safe."

"I will."

The hologram flickered and the blue light fell away. Alone again, Elia stood and walked towards the kitchen, which was around the corner in another room of the apartment. Upon entering the kitchen, Elia fumbled through the dark to find a switch to turn a lamp on. When the room became illuminated in a small, warm light, she almost jumped out of her skin as she found Anakin Skywalker sitting at the island in the centre. He looked agitated. Elia wondered why he had been sitting in the dark alone. Maybe it was a Jedi thing? Maybe it was an Anakin thing? His gaze was heavy as he lifted his head to look at her (less than happy at being disturbed, made worse by it being Elia to be the one to do so), she didn't look back at him.

Elia busied herself by searching through the stocked cupboards for a mug and caf to make herself a drink. She did it almost absentmindedly, the movements were familiar enough to not pay intense focus.

"I don't think you're supposed to drink that stuff before bed." Anakin's voice made her jump, almost spilling the liquid in her cup as she lifted it to her lips. He was looking at her but she did not look at him.

Elia shrugged. "Padmé is in danger. She's my oldest friend, I won't let her get hurt."

Anakin rose, walking around the island close to Elia before leaning against one of the kitchen counters. "There are a lot of people here that want the same thing. I promise nothing bad will happen."

"Can you promise?" She took a long drink, accidentally locking eyes with Anakin as he was already watching her. She dared him to look away first, studying his face for a change (why should she be the one to always shy away?) — soft blue eyes, too-short dark blonde hair, tiny scar on his chin from when he crashed their speeder on Naboo five years ago. Anakin looked away from her, Elia noticed his hands slowly curling into tight fists.

"You have my word."

When he looked at her next, Elia felt her body grow warm and she became terribly self-conscious. Did her cardigan look silly? Were her pyjamas too short? She liked her dress. Why did she care what he thought? Why was he looking at her at all, especially with an expression she did not recognise and could not decipher? He looked pretty when he stared at her. Why was she thinking that?

Almost choking on her caf as she tried to swallow the last of her cup too quickly, Elia set the mug down in the sink. "Goodnight." (She couldn't get back to bed fast enough.)

Contrary to Anakin's statement, the caf actually helped Elia to settle. It forced her to resort to other means of keeping herself awake when she needed to stay up for half the night studying, but it was a pleasant way for her to ease her stress afterwards. It took far less time for Elia to fall asleep after her trip to the kitchen, which was a relief. She wanted to put Anakin Skywalker out of her mind as fast as possible. (She'd thought about him too much after the summer when she turned fourteen.)

In the morning, she would bid Padmé and Aerrik a temporary farewell and wish her friend luck for the vote, and pray to the gods that no other terror befell Padmé or anyone else. Then all she would have to worry about was making sure she liked her wedding dress and the flower bouquets her mother had picked out. And, as silly as it was, Elia fell asleep considering how beautiful her wedding could be — if she was the one organising it.

✶

It was still dark outside when Elia's nose began to sting with the horrid smell of burning cotton. In her delirium, she tried to rise away from the smoke beside her face, but instantly she was pressed back onto the bed as a red blaster bolt shot through the viewport, shattering the transparisteel before it was deflected by a glimmering blue lightsaber.

Now alert with her mouth agape, Elia stared up at Anakin who was kneeling over her, lightsaber pointing away from them. Choking on a scream, Elia begged herself not to cry. Her eyes flashed to the broken viewport. "What's going on?" Her heart thundered in her chest.

"Don't worry, you're safe now." Anakin shut off his lightsaber. He moved, either to go closer to Elia to comfort her, or to steady himself. "Seems the assassin didn't know about your little room swap."

Elia breathed a soft sigh of relief. She looked at the scorch marks on the pillow next to her head — too close to her head. Better me than Padmé, she thought. Her gaze stretched back to Anakin, fear flooding her once more. "Padmé–?"

"–Is fine," Anakin answered. He clambered off the bed in a clumsy fashion. Elia sat up and clutched her blankets over her heart. "Athena is coming with me and Obi-Wan. Don't let anyone in or out, and keep the senator away from the windows."

Muted, Elia nodded frantically before Anakin took off out of the room.

Almost too stunned to move, Elia forced herself out of bed. When she reached the main room, Elia was tackled by Padmé, brought tight against her chest in a bone-crushing hug. Padmé was shaking and looking more scared than Elia had ever seen her. And no sooner than Padmé drew Elia into her arms, Aerrik was cradling them both.

"Lana, that was a horribly reckless thing for you to do," Aerrik scolded, still clinging to his baby sister. If anyone else had been in the room, Alana would have shied away, embarrassed by her brother's protective "Dad Mode" (which she had dubbed as soon as Violet was born) — but for once Elia did not care.

They were alive, Padmé was unhurt. That was all that mattered.

✶

AUTHOR'S NOTE

not my fave chapter & i'm sorry it's so short lol. but the plot will start moving now yay! thank you vv much for reading, i hope you liked 🤍