Her question brought Bail back to reality as he looked down at her, giving her an encouraging smile through his sad eyes. "It's just… not something you forget," he explained before his hand came to her shoulder and gripped it tightly. "I have faith in you, Padmé. I always have, but you need to have faith in yourself. You will be fine. Like I said before, he hardly talks–"
"Unless he has to," Padmé said, finishing his sentence with a smile.
"Exactly," Bail nodded, eyeing her cautiously. "Or if his anger provokes him." His words hit Padmé like a ton of bricks, causing his hand to tighten around her shoulder before she could truly react. "Padmé, there's no need to worry," he encouraged. "This is what the Emperor wants. He wants us to be scared. Vader is here as a threat, a demonstration of the Emperor's power, but that's all. I've been in countless meetings with the Emperor while Vader stood beside him. He has hardly ever spoken. He is merely the protector and the intimidating force in the room, nothing more. This is no different from any of those meetings; there's no reason for him to speak, and we won't give him any reason to suspect us."
Padme nodded, feeling a small measure of relief, hoping that his statement was true. She tried to keep her fear in check, but as she looked around at everyone's reactions, she could see how much more the people—even Imperial supporters—feared the unseen Sith Lord more than the Emperor himself. It was a reality that she could hardly comprehend. Not because of the fear itself, but because of the entire situation. If it was true, and Vader was worse than Palpatine, then perhaps she had misjudged due to her hatred. Perhaps she wanted to deal with Palpatine and did not want anything to do with the Emperor's right hand. The thought of him questioning her, probing her mind, or even speaking to her made chills run up her spine and her hair stand on end. It terrified her.
Maybe Mon Mothma was right, she thought. I wasn't ready for this.
Her heart stopped in her chest as the Emperor finally came into view, the old man walking very slowly and nodding to the important personnel he passed. Padmé, along with everyone else, knew this gesture was merely for show and that the man had no real respect for anyone or anything but himself. He sat on a throne of lies, deception, and death, caring only about himself and his power. Still, the men and women showed him respect, and as Palpatine continued his slow walk, another figure finally came into view—a tall, black-cloaked figure following the older man's unhurried pace.
Darth Vader, Padmé realized, recognizing the black robes and imposing figure. The room turned cold from his presence as people looked away, unwilling to face the visage of Death itself; but unlike the others, Padmé could not look away. She craved to learn—to see for herself what this man, if he indeed was a man, truly was. She observed intently as the Emperor and Vader moved through the room, noting every detail. Darth Vader donned his usual attire: jet-black robes that concealed every part of his body, while Palpatine wore traditional black robes—the ones he always wore to celebrations of his Empire. Yet, despite the similarity in their dark garments, the two men were far from alike.
Darth Vader was much larger, broader, and taller than Palpatine, as well as most—if not all—of the people in the room. The next difference was that Palpatine's hood revealed his white, pasty face, while Vader's extended further over his face, if he had one to show, creating a deeper shadow that revealed nothing but darkness beneath. Padmé tried numerous times to catch a glimpse of his face as he walked, but he moved with caution, ensuring that his visage remained hidden. Her next examination focused on his body, her gaze scanning his form for any sign of skin. She found none; Vader was entirely enveloped in black robes, with black gloves covering his hands. Upon closer inspection, Padmé noticed the black tunic he wore beneath the cloak, as well as the weapon hanging at his waist: a lightsaber. A weapon that was once used to bring hope to the Republic and its people, but now only conveyed darkness… and that was what Darth Vader embodied—darkness.
If it were a different time, a time of the Old Republic, the sight of Vader might have been perceived as that of a hero, a Jedi, but not anymore. Vader was no Jedi, and he was certainly no hero. He was a Sith Lord, and the black robes he wore served as a reminder of that. There were no Jedi left in the galaxy, only the Sith. There was no Republic, only the Empire. Vader had ensured that reality two years ago when he emerged from the darkness and decimated the Jedi along with what remained of them. He had taken everything, obliterated their way of life… and it was her fault.
It's my fault.
As Padmé continued her self-loathing and scrutiny of the Sith, the party went on as planned, with everyone gradually getting over the shock of the surprise guest and deciding to continue their celebration. It took some time, but the guests even began to stop avoiding him as if he were the plague, instead just accepting his presence. Of course, everyone kept their eyes on him, but Vader surprised them all by behaving exceptionally well and nothing like the tales told about him. He walked silently behind the Emperor, occasionally pausing to place his hands behind his back or on his belt while the Emperor spoke with someone of importance. Bail, Padmé, Mon, and the other senators of the Rebellion recognized this as all a deception—a facade. Although he seemed merely a bodyguard, they knew that Darth Vader was hunting for them, and his good behavior was just a performance for the press—a way to portray these two men as respectable and to suggest that the Empire was indeed a force for good.
The night crept by slowly, and after three hours into the party, Padmé sighed in relief as it was near the end of the dreadful celebration. Thankfully, the Emperor and Darth Vader still showed no interest in her. Even more wonderfully, they had not approached her at all during the entire night. This both soothed her nerves and gave her the opportunity to watch and learn. She observed them throughout the night—how Vader struck fear into every soul he approached, and how Palpatine smiled in response, knowing that the people feared him and his apprentice. She also noticed that although Vader was huge and terrifying, he was nothing like the reports or rumors she had heard. Unlike the monstrous beast depicted in the reports, Vader acted like a complete, dare she say, gentleman throughout the party. This made Padmé question the rumors about Darth Vader. How could they be true? Was it possible the stories were just that—stories someone made up to instill fear like a child's bedtime story?
"Are you okay, Padmé?" Bail asked, noticing the frown on her face as her emotions slipped through her features.
Padmé nodded and shook off her thoughts. "Yes..." she breathed. "I'm afraid I got lost in thought."
"Oh?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "What about?"
Padmé's frown deepened as she felt even more confused. "He's just..." Padmé whispered, almost laughing at herself. "He just doesn't seem like a monster. He looks like one, but this isn't how I expected Vader to be at all." She paused to think through her words before settling on something simple. "He is acting so civilized," she concluded. "It's just not what I expected."