She felt her heart race with each step as her mind struggled to grasp the dreadful situation she was in. She couldn't contemplate her future; it was too terrible to endure.
She promised herself that no matter what happened, she would live. She would do whatever was necessary to survive.
Even better, she would escape.
She didn't care about Palpatine's threats until she was physically at Vader's hellish home. She still had a chance. She just needed to escape before he came to collect her.
There was still a chance to escape, and she would try with all her might.
She wouldn't back down without a fight. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction.
Padmé spent the duration of the ride home planning her escape.
She had to escape; there was no choice but to flee… or perhaps end her life, which would undermine her purpose of trying to rectify the mess she had helped create. She wouldn't do that unless she found herself in a worse predicament, such as the Emperor using her as bait for the Rebellion or if she began to crack under the pressure. She would not be the reason for the Rebellion's downfall. And she still had plenty of fight left in her. The troopers surrounding her, who viewed her as nothing more than a feeble doll, had no idea who they were dealing with.
She would make them pay. She would give them hell.
She just had to wait for the opportune moment.
She needed to exercise caution, think wisely, and act carefully while also moving swiftly and quietly.
She didn't know what horrors awaited her at home, but she understood that any terror she would face there was insignificant compared to the nightmare that would ensue if she failed to escape.
Although the Emperor had indicated that she would not be tortured, she wasn't about to trust any promises made by such a man. Just because he wouldn't torture her today didn't mean he wouldn't do it tomorrow, or the next day, or the one after that. The anxiety would torment her while waiting and wondering, always questioning if today would be the day. She wouldn't just sit around and wait.
And even if, by some miracle, Palpatine did actually keep his word, that wouldn't mean she would be subjected to other types of torture. She knew the man well enough; he played a particular game, using words as much as his actions. He might have claimed that Vader wouldn't torture her, though that referred only to the most obvious methods. She wouldn't be taken to a formal interrogation or strapped to a board and abused until she slipped.
But that didn't mean there weren't other ways. It would be torturous enough to lose her freedom and spend every waking moment under the scrutinizing gaze of Darth Vader.
Not to mention that Darth Vader was a loose cannon. The death of Rush Clovis was an example of that. Or the way Vader lashed out at the gathering and hurled the same man across the room. Unlike Palpatine, who always appeared composed and restrained, Vader occasionally seemed to falter under the burden of his emotions. He acted on impulse, simply because he wanted to do so, even if his master had instructed him not to.
This meant she wasn't safe from Darth Vader, even if Palpatine had instructed him. All it would take was one slight slip of his emotions. One gentle poke at the bear, and the monster would snap. She would become just another victim of his rage.
It caused her to shiver.
Who knew what she would endure?
Simply waiting for death.
She doubted she would ever see the light of day again. Each thought appeared worse than the last, further intensifying her sense of dread and simultaneously heightening her desire to escape.
She had to try.
She crafted the perfect escape plan in her mind, assembling it like a puzzle- placing and removing pieces until they fit together flawlessly to ensure her success.
She would enter her home, cause no trouble, and appear compliant, all while knowing her true intent. She would play their game and pretend to be their pawn until she could reveal her true hand. It would be easy to blindside them; the troopers who had already underestimated her would lower their guard, thinking she was meek and submissive. Various weapons were hidden throughout her house, and accessing at least one of them would be simple. She preferred a blaster, with which she was most skilled, but she would settle for whatever was closest at the time.
She assumed that only one trooper would follow her while the others remained on guard. She didn't know if there would be any more at her home than the three in the speeder with her, but she hoped that this underestimation would eliminate the need for additional troops.
If so, she would improvise.
She would silently kill the first one, making an excuse for him to turn his back to her so she could slash his neck. There was an imperfection in the armor; it was built for distant battle, not hand-to-hand combat. A knife, which she kept in her bedroom closet, would be easy to grab and lodge into the gap where the helmet met the chest plate on his neck.
He would go down silently, perhaps a gurgle or two, but nothing to alert the others. Then she could grab the blaster that was hidden in the secret compartment at the foot of her bed.
She would move quickly to take out the two others, knowing she wouldn't have much time.
Perhaps use Artoo as a distraction, if he was there.
The noise from the scurry was unavoidable, but she hoped that the security measures she had added to her walls to muffle any tapping would make it harder for anyone to hear. If that worked, she simply had to ensure that neither could make any distress calls that would alert nearby units to her location.
Then she would have to run.
She wouldn't be able to steal the imperial shuttle she was currently in. It would be the closest getaway vehicle but likely had tracking devices attached to it. She also couldn't escape through the main hangar; that would be too risky. There was a high chance that Imperial troops were already stationed there.
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