She couldn't understand why the remark stung, but it certainly did, igniting her anger. "You are unbelievable!" she shouted, throwing her hands up in disbelief. "How can you be so heartless?"
Vader moved closer to the senator, forcing Padmé to lift her eyes to the towering figure in front of her. They stood so near that, under the right light, Padmé could have made out Vader's features. Yet, they were shrouded in darkness. All her perceptions of what lay beneath the hood dissipated. Vader had no face, only a boundless emptiness.
"Simple," he breathed, his words dark and cold. I don't have a heart."
She did not shudder. "I suppose you lack a brain too," she remarked. "If you could forget who I am in just a few hours."
Vader initially remained silent. They exchanged intense gazes, an unspoken tension between them that Padmé couldn't understand, each silently daring the other. Eventually, Vader tilted his head down slightly, causing Padmé to experience an unsettling sensation– a strange and unusual feeling that made her hands tingle.
"Well," Vader replied in a low, heated voice, "I've had many women." Padmé swiftly recoiled, horrified by his actions, but the tingling sensation persisted. "You never had me," she shot back, firmly asserting that she had never belonged to Vader and never would. He could never claim her, and the idea of his touch made her feel utterly repulsed.
"That's likely the reason," he responded with arrogance, and Padmé suspected he was smirking.
"What?" Padmé exclaimed, revolted by the creature in front of her, "You only recall the women you've had and subsequently murdered!"
Vader shrugged. "Only the ones that left an… impression…" He answered, sounding bored again. "And there's no need to be upset. As you've so graciously mentioned, I've never had you; had I, you'd be dead… just like the rest." Padmé instinctively stepped back from him, trying to distance herself as much as she could. He had become a monster, someone she wished to avoid, yet she found herself still seeking answers. "So, what did you mean?" she asked softly.
"You must have been so insignificant that you weren't worth the time or effort to remember."
Padmé went quiet upon hearing that remark, feeling a sudden ache in her chest.
Why was that?
She couldn't explain it.
It felt like he had struck her in the gut multiple times.
What is wrong with you, Padmé? Her mind chastised.
Why was she playing Vader's game? Why did it matter if he remembered her or not? Why did she care about anything he said? He was Darth Vader! A monster! He didn't deserve to be a thought in her mind. He didn't deserve for her to even speak to her.
And yet, she found herself needing to respond.
A need festering in her, which she couldn't explain or ignore.
With her eyes fixed on the ground, she spoke softly, "Well... I remember you."
"I'm pleased I made an impression." He responded, his voice dripping with arrogance.
Throughout the conversation, Padmé felt the urge to slap him. She tried to suppress her violent impulses and conceal her anger, but his arrogant reply shattered her restraint.
She was indifferent to the repercussions of her choices. She didn't mind if he took her life. Anything would be preferable to the weeks, months, or an eternity spent with Darth Vader. She pivoted, aiming for her target, prepared to strike with force. Her arm shot forward, moving at a speed she anticipated would inflict pain, but just before her hand could connect, it halted abruptly... just inches from his hood.
Padmé stood in stunned silence, her gaze shifting between her target and her immobile hand, as if an unseen force held her wrist captive. She attempted to move, but her efforts were futile. No matter how hard she struggled, she remained frozen. Her eyes returned to Vader, who stood still, as though time itself had paused.
The sensation enveloping her body shouted a response.
The Force. He was using the Force on her.
Visions of Vader using the Force against Rush Clovis overwhelmed Padmé, engulfing her in panic. Her heart raced, and she felt a surge of emotion that she struggled to contain. "Release me!" she yelled, struggling to free her hand from the Devil's unseen hold. She was powerless against him; he was too strong.
A low chuckle emerged from Vader's chest as he observed her puzzled expression. "You'll need to do better than that, I'm afraid."
His hand glided through the air, leaving her arm feeling heavy and motionless at her side, yet it was still bound. She found herself unable to move, unsure whether it was his grip through the Force or her own fear that paralyzed her. As his hand crept nearer, she instinctively attempted to pull away, letting out a cry.
He paused, and the atmosphere in the room shifted. It was almost as if she could finally breathe.
"Don't flatter yourself," Senator," his voice suddenly changed, even as it stayed firm. "I wouldn't dream of touching you." He turned away in silence and left the room. The door slid shut behind him, accompanied by the distinct sound of the lock engaging.
As soon as Vader exited the room, and the door slid closed behind him, Padmé felt her hand regain its freedom. She sank to the floor, cradling her arm against her chest, caressing it gently in an attempt to dispel the chill left by Vader's unseen grip. Though it felt absurd, she couldn't shake the feeling. It was hard to articulate, but she was grateful to have her hand back in her own power.
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