this is a long overdue request for my dear @mirdania, but also the perfect prompt to fill for my first creation for the Where is Padme? Celebration, which is running all month! I hope you'll join :)
^^ (lower quality) ref pics from the prequels so yk where to spot them!!
i just love these ladies so much and they’re massively underhyped soooo i decided they needed their own post🌌💫🌕 plus i thought this would also be a good reference for fanart, collages, edits, etc!
Okay, screw it, I’m having fun. Here’s another snippet
In which Owen Lars always low-key wants to punch Obi-Wan no matter what AU it is. The Republic has fallen, the news is full of lies, and Owen just wants his family to be safe. Unfortunately, they’re at the heart of a massive conspiracy
(Note: in this AU, Anakin and Owen grew up together for a few years as stepbrothers. Owen grew up with “if the Hutts find out Anakin has “magic powers” they’ll take him and enslave him again.” It’s made him just a little overprotective)
The Chanc- Emperor had declared all Jedi enemies of the state, and proudly proclaimed that The Jedi Purge was a success. He said the few survivors would be rounded up and executed soon.
Ani wasn’t answering his comlink. Owen even caved and tried to call that Senator friend of his, Padmé; she always insisted that Owen and Beru should call her if there was an emergency.
She wasn’t answering either.
Owen soon found out why. He was startled out of his work by Beru shouting for him; he ran back inside and found Beru gaping at the holonet. It was the news and a solemn-faced reporter was speaking of Senator Padmé Amidala and her tragic death at the hands of the treacherous Jedi.
What? Owen thought. What? It didn’t make sense. He didn’t have a high opinion of the Jedi in general (except for Anakin) but he couldn’t imagine them mindlessly slaughtering someone who was on their side.
“The Emperor and his council in the Senate have reason to believe that General Anakin Skywalker has been kidnapped by his former comrades,” the reporter continued. “Anyone with information as to his whereabouts is urged to come forward.”
That made even less sense.
Beru’s eyes narrowed. “What did that sleemo do to them?” she hissed.
That was what Owen wanted to know. Who killed Padmé? Where in the galaxy was his little brother?
They both started wearing blasters on their belts after that.
Three days later, there was a live update from the Emperor himself. The Emperor was dressed head to toe in black, and there were tears in his eyes as he spoke.
Anakin Skywalker was dead. His body had been retrieved, found on Naboo. He, too, had been murdered by the Jedi. The Emperor insisted on holding a grand funeral on Naboo, laying Anakin to rest there, as a tribute to his dearest friend, the grandson I always wanted.
Beru began to sob. Owen embraced her on autopilot, unable to look away from the holonet. This couldn’t be happening. It wasn’t real. His brother wasn’t dead, they must have it wrong. They found someone else’s body, not Ani’s. Ani wasn’t dead.
Oh, if Mom and Dad had lived to see this…
Owen didn’t let himself cry. He was of Tatooine, and Ani would scold him for wasting water. But he wanted to. He’d cry later when the suns set, when Beru was asleep, when no one was around to see.
A fancy funeral on Naboo that Owen couldn’t possibly attend. Kark that. He’d set up a grave here, next to Mom and Dad. They’d have their own funeral, their own memorial. Just for family.
Only a day later, that plan went flying out the window.
He was outside, working on one of the pipes, when a speeder came hurtling towards his home. Beru immediately unhooked her blaster from her belt, her expression intense and furious. She had wept and now she was angry; now she wanted answers.
Owen straightened up and unhooked his own blaster, warily watching the speeder approach. It drew to a swift halt; it was sleek and shiny but there was no fancy insignia, no name on the side; no indication of who owned this ship.
Its door opened, its ramp lowered, and a familiar droid trotted out, calling “Master Owen! Master Owen, oh, how I missed you!”
“Threepio?” Owen nearly dropped his blaster in shock. Ani had mentioned Padmé painted Threepio gold, but seeing it was another matter entirely. But why was Threepio here? Did Padmé leave instructions to return him here, if her and Ani were both gone? And that little white and blue droid…That was Artoo, Ani’s astromech, the feral little thing. Owen saw it on the news sometimes, trailing behind Anakin, and it often pushed its way onto their holocalls. Why were they here?
A familiar face staggered from the ship next, clutching two infants to his chest. Owen only recognised him thanks to the holonet: Obi-Wan Kenobi, the Negotiator, Anakin’s Master- teacher. Kenobi looked absolutely exhausted, he looked ill. Beru breathed in sharply and Owen couldn’t look away from those babies, his mind suddenly whirling, unable to fully articulate his shock, the sudden understanding crashing down on him.
Ani was his little brother and Ani was dead, Owen was his next of kin, so…So then those babies…Kenobi wouldn’t bring a stranger’s children here…But weren’t Jedi supposed to…Well, not have babies? Oh, Ani, what trouble did you get yourself in this time? And the mother? The only woman Anakin ever seemed to associate with closely was Padmé, but the news said she was pregnant when she died, the footage of her funeral showed her swollen belly, the father a mystery. Unless that was a lie and she had given birth after all? Or maybe Owen was entirely wrong and she wasn’t the mother at all.
Beru lowered her blaster, her lip trembling and eyes watering. She’d reached the same conclusion as Owen no doubt.
“Owen Lars?” Kenobi asked tiredly, though he obviously knew the answer. “Beru Lars?”
“That’s us,” Beru said, hushed and nearly breathless.
Owen had the sudden urge to run forward, to snatch those infants from Kenobi’s arms. To see if either of them had Ani’s eyes or hair, his nose. To see if his wild theory was correct and find anything of Padmé in their little features. He wanted to hold them close, these last remnants of his brother, and never let go.
He never should have let Ani go after Mom’s funeral.
He stepped forward as if in a dream, eyes trained in the swaddled babies. He opened his mouth to speak, to ask their names, to demand explanations when Beru suddenly shrieked.
“ANI!”
What? What? Owen swiftly turned to the ship and three more people were emerging; a man and a woman walking together, the man was carrying another person, followed by a med-droid. The woman wore a purple cloak and looked like she could be Padmé’s sister. The man was unfamiliar with dark hair, wearing a fancy blue and silver coat and black cape. He was walking cautiously down the ramp and in his arms…
Owen ran forward, heart pounding. Tears stung his eyes, tears of relief this time, though he still stubbornly refused to let them fall.
“Give him to me,” he demanded, reaching for his little brother. “Give him here.”
The man, though startled, did not try to stop Owen from taking Anakin. Ani looked half-dead; some sort of drip was stuck into his hand, he was white as bone and had deep shadows under his eyes; his lips had a horrible blue tinge to them. His breathing was steady but weak and quiet. His head lolled limply against Owen’s shoulder.
Owen didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or scream. He could barely breathe, barely think straight. He didn’t know if he wanted to thank these strangers or kick them off his property.
Beru had the babies now, cradled protectively against her chest. She looked as disbelieving as Owen felt, gasping for breath and trembling, but she still murmured softly to the babies and kissed their foreheads.
Anakin was as cold as the desert at night.
“What did you do to him?” Owen demanded, defensiveness winning out. He could imagine Mom’s chiding look and sigh, but ignored it. She wasn’t here, she hadn’t been here in a long time. Owen would protect his family as he saw fit.
“We didn’t do anything,” Kenobi said with a hint of fire.
The woman in purple looked anxious, eyeing him warily. The man in blue straightened his fancy clothes and tried to smile.
“Mr Lars,” he said patiently. “My name is Bail Organa. This is Dormé and Obi-Wan Kenobi. We’re friends of Anakin and Padmé. May we have this discussion inside?”
“The young master requires more fluids,” the med-droid said, holding its kit aloft as if to emphasise its point.
Threepio began to fuss, gambling back and forth between Ani and the babies, babbling rapidly in his familiar way. Artoo stayed firmly next to Owen- next to Anakin.
“Oh dear, oh dear,” Threepio said, flailing. “What if the heat is too much for them?”
Owen couldn’t be sure if he meant just the babes or all three Skywalkers.
This was the most excitement his farm had seen in years.
“Let’s go inside,” Beru said, eyes darting anxiously around. There was no sign of anyone else, thank the Goddess. “What’s their names? The little ones?”
“Luke and Leia,” Kenobi said hoarsely. He looked like he wanted to take the babies back from her. Over Owen’s dead body.
Oh, Ani, Owen thought sadly. Those were Tatooine names; not traditional ones, but modernised versions. Ani, what did you do? What happened?
Why did they trick the galaxy into thinking Anakin was dead?
He looked at Dormé. A name so similar to Padmé. A woman who could pass for Padmé’s sister. A woman whose presence here made even less sense that Kenobi’s and Organa’s.
Owen knew then. He knew for certain who the mother was.
He tightened his grip on his brother. Ani didn’t stir.
“Let’s go in,” he agreed gruffly. “And I want the full story.”
You’re the eldest, Dad used to gruffly say, even more gruffly than Owen spoke. You protect him. The Hutts can’t know about him, Owen. They can’t ever find out. We stay quiet, we stay safe.
The Jedi had stopped Owen from doing that job for too long. He wouldn’t let them stop him this time.
kinda baffling that dormé is the only one of the handmaidens shown to have a more emotional bond of some kind with padmé yet sabedala is the most popular padmé/handmaiden ship. and i get that it mostly comes from the ekj books but even then the most intresting part of the padmé/sabé dynamic aka the fact that they had to learn to become the same person and looked almost indistinguishable from eachother is never really explored in a meaningful way either by the books or the fandom. i guess the narcisus like elements and a deeper exploration of the inevitable power imbalance would kinda sully the image of the healthy happy alternative for padmé sabedala is often presented as. and that sucks cause it's a genuinely cool ship that's not really explored to its full fucked up potential. i also think the movies give you way more stuff (which isn't a lot but still) to work with for padmé/dormé but no one seems to care about that dynamic platonic or romantic :(
Another thing that has been wasted in Star Wars: Amidala's Handmaidens.
1000% of them would have heard the name "Luke Skywalker" and would have stood up to the Rebellion, demanding to know why Padmé's son wasn't raised with them.
Imagine a dozen women around Luke, asking him questions, touching him and cooing, saying "his father's ears, his mother's chin, his father's color, his maternal grandfather's body" and Luke not knowing what's going on and wondering if he runs away, if these strange women will follow him, and if he'll be safer if Vader finds him.
