If Padmé Naberrie would have known that with the name Amidala would come war, death, and a little boy named Anakin, she might have stepped away from it, away from the political life. But then again, she might not have. Padmé Naberrie Amidala never backed away from a fight.

She was little more than a child when she took the throne of Naboo. But to talk to her was to speak to a woman. At fourteen she was already an accomplished political mind, having trained in the Legislative Youth Program and seen her fair share of crisis situations. She was already a force to be reckoned with.

And when she was made Queen, the people wasted no time falling in love with her. She was unwavering in her support of peace and prosperity. Where her people loved her she returned their love with genuine appreciation and courage.

So when her people, those she loved, were threatened, she refused to allow them to be led into war. Faced with the oily dishonest Neimodian, Viceroy Gunray, she trusted in the government she served and did not allow any action which would lead to violence. Her planet, her people's planet, was precious. But the ideals of democracy were even more so.

She trusted in the flow of events, even when the tide brought a rush of battle droids with her death programmed into them. Even in the face of absolute destruction, she was resolute. She planted her feet in the earth of Naboo and waited for an answer which calmly repeating, "I will not cooperate," to every demand. She believed in the negotiations of the Supreme Chancellor's envoys, and stood firm while waiting.

But her people were being carted away to camps and she was next to join them. Dejectedly and with no small amount of forced humility, she submitted to the protected role of handmaiden while her decoy, Sabé, became queen.

She never faltered, even as she walked next to her loyal handmaiden-queen to be led to a camp. Death was no longer a possibility. It was written into her fate.

But, as often happened to Padmé Naberrie Amidala, her salvation came at the brink of doom. It fell from the sky. Or rather leaped down from a vine-draped archway to destroy her droid escorts and lead her toward safety. It was in this moment that she met two of the most important men to shape her destiny: Qui-Gon Jinn, the Jedi Master who would protect her and introduce her to her doom, and Obi-Wan Kenobi, a Jedi Apprentice who would become a legend and her last true friend.

The two explained the situation to Sabé, believing themselves to be speaking to the Queen, and admitted that the negotiations which could have saved her people had never occurred. Qui-Gon, with enigmatic wisdom, declared that refuge lay on Coruscant and there they should go. And though Sabé knew that Padmé would want to be with her people, she agreed to leave when Qui-Gon predicted the Queen's death. Who could possibly deny a Jedi's prescience?

They blasted out of Theed Palace's hangar and into a battle with the Trade Federation's blockade; a battle which crippled their ship and forced her to meet another player in her destiny: an astromech named R2-D2, famous for his quick droid wit. Small, unassuming, he had a knack for saving lives with his quick fixes, and would, at one point, help every member of her future family.

But his rapid repair job was not enough this time and Padmé's ship was forced to land on Tatooine for parts. It was there, in a junk shop owned by a tight-fisted Toydarian named Watto, that she met her angel of death. Sandy-haired, intelligent, and charming even at ten years old, Anakin Skywalker had something in his eyes which compelled and frightened her. He called her an Angel and even made her feel like one. She had to remind herself that he was only a little boy. His selflessness, his courage, his wisdom, belonged to someone much older. He was a slave made strong by hardship, but even then, there was no accounting for his Otherworldly perception. With reflexes lent him by some mystical power, he won the local Podrace and won them the parts needed for their damaged craft.

When Qui-Gon announced that Anakin would be joining them, she was not surprised. She was no Jedi but could certainly recognize potential when it blazed in front of her. His presence aboard the ship was calming as her planet fell to ruins and her people died. She immersed herself in caring for Anakin and promised always to care for him as he pressed a pendant carved from a japor snippet into her hand. She knew she would miss him. But later, when came to her to say goodbye, she had no choice but to push him aside. She wore the mask of the Queen, her true face. All other emotion had to come second because Padmé was her hidden face.

With the hard unforgiving countenance of a Queen, she faced the Senate with her plight. But the Senate, displaying its usual cowardice, bowed under the weight of its own corruption. Naboo's Senator, Palpatine, moved her to replace the Supreme Chancellor, and as pawns often do, she submitted. Valorum was removed and with his dismissal came her decision to return to her people, where she was most needed. Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, and Anakin joined her, but it was the garrulous Gungan, Jar-Jar Binks, upon whom her plan hinged. It was his people who would draw the droid army away from the city while she went to her palace to capture Viceroy Gunray. In the meantime, their few pilots would go into orbit to disable the droid control ships. But only in unmasking herself as Queen and begging for help from the Gungan leader, Boss Nass, was she able to convince the Gungans to help her. Only in an accidental flight into space by Anakin Skywalker was the droid army disabled. Only in the death of Qui-Gon Jinn was Darth Maul killed and her way to the throne room cleared.

When the dust settled and she owned her planet again, Padmé grieved the loss of her friend and mentor and then formed a lasting piece with the Gungans. She said goodbye to Anakin, who would begin his training as a Jedi Apprentice. She knew, even as she watched him go, that he and his Master would still play an important role in her destiny.

Ten years passed and with them went fragments of the system she served. A disgruntled former Jedi, Count Dooku, led an increasing number of systems away from the Republic. The Senate, of which she was now part, wanted an army to combat this Separatist movement, and she was the strongest voice against it, a voice strong enough for her enemies to want her silenced.

After an assassination attempt which took the life of her decoy, Cordé, she was assigned a pair of Jedi bodyguards. The two were very familiar, at least in name. Obi-Wan looked much the same, but Anakin had grown up a great deal. Still, it took only look to tell her he felt the same about her as he always had. But now the innocence of him was gone. Where his gaze had before been full of awe, now there was a desire that frightened her. Something told her that she would never be able to deny him, and that she would not want to.

Following a second attempt on her life, she and Anakin were sent to Naboo for safety. His inner dragon raged against the idea of leaving her battle in the Senate but she could not deny that being able to relax and see her family gave her joy. And Obi-Wan had promised a swift investigation and capture of those behind the plot against her life.

The first stop on Naboo was to the palace, her former home, to visit Queen Jamilla. The new Queen was as peaceful and tranquil as the planet itself, and firm in her belief in democracy. She was a caring friend and was grieved by the uncertainty in Padmé's life. She sanctioned the pair's flight to the lake country and sent them on their way.

Padmé could not have realized that she was seducing Anakin, but more often than not she found herself choosing more feminine gowns, more revealing gowns. As they explored the balcony of Varykino, Anakin could not stop himself from stroking the skin of her back, left bare by the flowing fabric of her dress, nor could he prevent the kiss which resulted from it. And though Padmé pulled away, rebuking herself, she knew that the damage had been done to them both.

An excursion to her parents and to the plains did not lessen the strain between them. With every word, every glance, every touch, she let more of herself be known to him. She was not fighting him so hard. She cared for him.

But when he laid his emotions out to her, she forced herself to deny him. There was duty and loyalty, both of which she knew must come before love. She could read the hurt and want in his face and was ashamed to be the cause. The dress she had chosen for that night was designed to tempt. What right had she to seduce him and then push him away? For a moment, Padmé wished that duty could fade and she could be just Naberrie, not Amidala.

But she never backed down. She followed Anakin to Tatooine, in pursuit of his mother, and was his strength. She watched him ride away to find his mother and then watched, in pain, as he returned with her body. She cradled him as he admitted his rage and the murders he committed. And she, the fighter for peace, told him it was okay, even though she knew it was not. She should have run from him then. But like a fool, as people in love always are, she stayed and calmed him.

She knew better than to expect calm, though, and was not surprised when Obi-Wan contacted them in dire need of help. Anakin, bound by insecurity and guilt, could not force himself to leave Tatooine, to break orders. But Padmé would not be denied and to Geonosis they went.

When one lives a life surrounded by intrigue one should expect traps. But she did not and found herself chained to a cart, ready to die. Here, with death looking her in the face, she let her emotions speak and admitted her love for Anakin. They shared a passionate kiss, full of meaning, as the sound of whip popped through the air and the cart lurched forward.

Under the hot glare of the Geonosian sun, Padmé was chained to a stone which burned through her thin white shirt. Next to her, Anakin stood in the same position and next to him was Obi-Wan. With only the slightest tinge of mirth, she rotated the pick in her mouth with her tongue then arched her body up to place it in her hands. Soon after, she was atop the pillar facing the nexu. But Anakin's beast dispatched it and Obi-Wan joined the two of them atop it.

Without weapons, tired, and alone, they faced a swarm of battle droids. But in the same moment, a hundred blades of differing colors lit the stadium.

Joined by an army of Jedi, the three split up and fought the horde of droids. Again faced with defeat, they were again refreshed by a surprise army, this time of clones. The arena was soon cleared and the trio climbed into a transport the join the true battle. En route, however, the transport suffered a minor hit that sent Padmé tumbling to the desert sand below. By the time she rejoined Obi-Wan and Anakin, Dooku had escaped and Anakin had lost his arm. But the battle of Geonosis was complete and there was little more she could do there.

With Anakin by her side, she returned to Naboo, and under a setting sun, they were married.

If Padmé would have known that with the name Skywalker would come betrayal, heartbreak, and her own death, she may have run from him then. But, then again, she might not have. She always followed her heart, even when her mind raged against it. Padmé's heart was always strong. Too strong, sometimes.

Their marriage, even at the start, was not perfect. Anakin was away more than he was home and to keep their union secret, they lived a constant lie. But they loved each other passionately, and that was enough.

Anakin fought the Clone Wars as a soldier, Padmé as a Senator, and they saw each other only once every few months.

So when Padmé became pregnant she was already far along before Anakin even found out. This time, when he came back from the war, she had never been so relieved. Reports of his death were rampant and with his child inside of her the prospect of losing him was doubly terrible.

But, as he always had, he came back to her and shared her joy in the realization of her pregnancy. There was something different about him, though, and she could feel it. His emotions had always ruled him. He had always been tortured by the weight of the Prophecy thrown about his shoulders and had struggled with the arrogance which came from it. But now, coupled with it, was a paranoia which stemmed from a series of dreams which disturbed Padmé more than she was willing to admit. Anakin had foreseen his mother's death. When he saw his wife's similar fate, who could say it would not occur?

But there were other things upsetting him which he would not confide in her. She knew that it related, in some way, to the Jedi but he would not tell her what was plaguing him. She could feel his torment driving a wedge between them.

But, as was often the case in Padmé's life, she put this aside and turned to her Republic; a Republic rapidly becoming a dictatorship. She could no longer trust the man who now controlled the government. But if she were to rise against him, with others, she would be betraying her husband, for the dictator was Anakin's mentor. And on the one occasion when she chose to talk to him about it, his anger deterred her. His anger was becoming a rising problem.

He was beginning to make absurd promises about being able to keep her from dying and became instantly jealous if she so much as mentioned the help of other Jedi, particularly Obi-Wan. Padmé the Warrior had no idea how to combat the tumult inside Anakin.

Somehow it was not surprising when Obi-Wan came to her to admit Anakin's dark deeds. The words "Dark Side" did not shock her but she forced herself not to believe. Still, when he told her that Anakin had murdered children, babies, her hand immediately flew to her belly and she crumbled. This, she would not believe. Nor could she tell Obi-Wan where Anakin was. She knew that if she did, it would mean Anakin's death. Somehow, though, she knew Anakin had died already.

Terrified, she went to him, taking her personal ship to him on Mustafar. Safe in his arms after she landed, she knew he would explain away Obi-Wan's lies. But when she asked him, his only concern seemed to be jealousy against his former brother. She begged him to come away with her. But his face lit with an obsessed gleam and he spoke of ruling the galaxy together. Her world went white and shattered at his words. Obi-Wan had been right and she was forced to admit that the man she had loved no longer existed.

Futilely she begged him again to leave everything behind but his face contorted into a mask of rage and she turned to see Obi-Wan standing on the landing ramp of her ship. She could only cry, "No!" before the vise-like grip of Anakin's anger latched about her throat. She gasped pleas and then her vision faded to black.

When she woke, the pain of betrayal and heartbreak made her wince. But Obi-Wan's gentle hand on her cheek soothed the pain. He was dark with soot and sadness and she asked if Anakin was alright before she again fell into darkness.

She woke to pain, again, but this time a great tearing pain which shredded through the last remnants of fortitude she had. Obi-Wan stood beside her, sending waves of peace into her and held her son as he was born. She named and Luke, and smiled at the image of Obi-Wan holding him. She could at least trust him. And yet, the pain was not through with her and she wept as her daughter freed herself from Padmé's tired body. She named the girl Leia and again smiled at the ironies of her life. The man Anakin had been most jealous of stood beside her where Anakin should have been.

Perhaps the fact that she knew Obi-Wan would care for her children freed Padmé from her last ties to the living. She spoke of Anakin's goodness and knew that she did not want to live in a world which so betrayed her. She let go.

She could not have known how dearly she would be missed and how sorrowfully mourned. Her body was carried through the streets of Naboo, her family, the Queen, the Governor, and Naboo's populace stood in tearful crowds as she was entombed.

Nor could she have known that her two children would right all the wrongs of the government which she watched crumble.

But most importantly, that the man who had betrayed her would spend the rest of his life hating what he had become and hating that the man he had become had destroyed the only thing he had ever loved.

And yet, through their son, he was redeemed………and found peace.