Just as Sol and Obi-wan feared, Sol felt the first signs of labour while Obi-wan was at work.

He had been excelling at the harvesting plant and the new income was a blessing. They were able to prepare for the birth with nutritious formula and a large cot to house the twins for when they slept. It appeared as if things were on the rise, but even though Sol grew more and more frustrated by the constant kicking inside her stomach, she constantly worried for when her due date came around.

It took a great deal of strength and energy to continue to shield her signature. With the help of Obi-wan, her white flame was dulled enough to blend into the realm unnoticed. She was barely able to simmer the white energy to a candlelight as most of her power was going to the twins. They lapped up her rays of light and grew stronger with it every day. Obi-wan had said that they would be strong with the ways of the Force, and that they would undoubtably hold the ability to become Jedi Knights. 

Before Order 66, this would have been amazing news. But now, while Jedi were being hunted, it brought the question of their safety. If Sol's children were Force-sensitive and had the opportunity to become Jedi, they would be a target for the Empire. The Emperor would not like to hear that the Jedi were being reborn, as it could mean the return of the Republic and the thriving of the light side of the Force.

But before Sol could begin worrying about this, she had to go through the agonising process of childbirth, which began on an afternoon two days before her due date.

As Sol made her way from the bedroom to the bathroom, she felt a twist in her stomach. She paused in her waddle and stood in the hall, staring at the wall in front of her. The twist wasn't painful at first. It was more of a tug to her navel, something that she used to feel when the Force was warning her of something incoming. But when a dribble of liquid ran down her leg, Sol threw her hand up to lean against the wall as a splitting pain attacked her insides.

'Oh, kriff,' she hissed, her waist-length hair falling in front of her face as she looked to the floor. Her eyes scrunched shut and she let out a suppressed yelp with the pain spreading from her stomach. Sol tried to ease its sharpness by helplessly gripping at the bump that was dying to release its hold, but she learnt quickly that it was futile.

'Oh, no... oh, lord... not now, please... not while I'm alone...'

They had planned for this circumstance, but Sol had spent every day praying it would be unnecessary. She prayed that she would go into labour in the evening when Obi-wan was by her side, and that the Lars' contact would only be used for some support during the birth. But Sol had believed that she was objectively unlucky, because Obi-wan was in the middle of his shift at the plant, and she knew that the birth was going to be quick. She didn't know how she knew; she could just feel it by the way the pain travelled from her stomach to her waist, and by how the sweat soaked through her linen dress within seconds. The twins were coming, and Sol was terrified. 

It took a moment to find the strength to push off of the wall of the hallway. Sol had to force her back to take the weight of her stomach as it had done for the past eight months, and with a strained cry, she made her towards the steps. The transmitter was on the coffee table of the living room, as it was the most central place of the house. No matter where Sol was in the complex, she could make it to the transmitter with several steps. It was an advantage to have such a small house, but when each step Sol had to make were twice as painful as the last, it made no difference to her.

With loud 'oof's and 'ahh's, Sol was able to make it into the living room. She gripped her stomach that sent ripples of shock and twitches through her body. She couldn't help but let out exclamations and couldn't control the shake in her hands. As Sol reached for things to lean on, her fingers appeared trembling and covered in sweat. The transmitter was within reach and Sol let herself fall back onto the sofa, hoping it would ease some of the agony. But it didn't fade in the slightest, and Sol was forced to fumble with the keypad to type in the Lars' farm's number. 

'Please, with all things I've gone through...' Sol began to mumble to no one. 'Let us be okay. Let them be good and light.'

Maybe she was talking about the twins, maybe she was talking about Owen and Beru Lars. Whoever Sol called to, she yearned for reassurance. She had relied on Obi-wan's kind words and safe aura, but without him, Sol felt exposed to the elements. 

The transmitter buzzed as it rang its endless beeps, and Sol hung her head to focus on dulling the pain. Her teeth grinded together and her breaths came out in huffs. She felt the need to part her legs to ease the compressing sensation in her pelvis, but she knew what that could mean. She refused to give birth alone, and if she could prevent it before someone arrived, Sol would use her remaining energy to keep the twins at bay.

'Sol? Is that you-'

'It's happening. They're coming right now. I- Oh, Maker... please... get here now!'

'Hold on, Sol! I'll get Obi-wan and I'll be there soon!' 

The transmitter's signal went dead and the light that emitted from the connection dimmed. The house was still as Sol threw her head back against the wall and started breathing in through her nose, and out through her mouth. The intensity in her being was enough for Sol to want to break out into raging screams, and she wanted to thrash her arms around to expel the feeling.

All the tranquility and balance that Sol had attempted to achieve in her life as a Jedi was abandoned. All the emotions she had attempted to suppress in recent months broke free. With tears leaking out the corners of her clenched shut eyes, Sol looked into the Force and cried aloud,

'Help me, Anakin! Please, come and help me!'

--- 

The star destroyer was under attack.

There had been rumbles of a rebellion forming against the Empire and they were working tirelessly to try and squash the talk before it became a reality. It had to have been only a small group, and it would be easy to locate its individual members and deal with them personally. But the Empire was still new and was learning the ways of those that desired the previous Galactic Republic. In order to eradicate the Republic's sympathisers, the Empire had to strengthen their army of storm troopers and had to find where the few rebels were hiding. 

But they didn't need to find them, as they were now in front of them. The star destroyer was near the core system when they were suddenly under attack by a cluster of x-wings and starfighters. Inside the control room, imperial workers rushed around in a panic. Generals and lieutenants shouted orders and workmen replied with the ship's vital levels and damage reports.

'Dispatch the fighter pilots!' a general ordered. The man stood over the lowered platform that contained screens and workers and faced his back to the battlefield.

'We have four at the ready, sir!' a workman said over his shoulder and the general turned to the windscreen.

'Dispatch all four!'

'Yes, sir!' 

From the hallway, Darth Vader turned the corner and appeared in the control room. His black cape whipped behind him from his quick steps and his thunderous boots stomped against the vinyl floor. 

At the entrance of the Sith apprentice, workmen parted from his path as they ran to give orders to the rest of the ship. A mouse droid that was zipping around the room backed away as Darth Vader approached the windscreen, before it shot out of the line of his falling boot just before it squashed its parts. The droid scurried out of the control room and Vader surveyed the attacking ships. 

'What is the meaning of this?' Vader boomed. He saw the blasts that collided with the destroyer's shields and if the rebels kept up their attack without interference, the shields could fail, and they would be exposed.

'It appears that they came from the nearby planet of Naboo,' Grand Moff Tarkin appeared at the masked man's side. 'The tie fighters have just been dispatched.' 

Just as the gaunt man said, the grey ships descended upon the rebels with their ear-splitting cry. With large panels on either side of its body, the tie fighters looked like bats with their small cockpits and large wings. They were equipped with basic weaponry, but in their masses, the tie fighters dispersed the rebel ships from the destroyer's shields. X-wings and starfighters attempted to escape the firing lines of the blasts, but they were thinning in their attack.

'Naboo,' Darth Vader repeated through his vent. After a series of deep breaths, the man turned from the battlefield to Tarkin beside him.

'Continue your proceedings with the Death Star, Tarkin,' he said with the eyeless sockets of his mask staring absently. 'I will descend to Naboo. I may know who is behind this pathetic attempt of a rebellion.' 

'How could you know this already? We haven't even investigated yet,' the man raised an eyebrow with his hands clasped behind his back. 'Is this one of your spiritual connections again, Vader?'

A rumble blanketed the air and from the lowered platforms, workmen peaked over their screens to the two men who stared at each other. The Sith Lord had been insulted and mocked by Moff Tarkin, who was in the favour of the Emperor. But Vader was his apprentice, his heir, and out of the two, the one who wielded the power of the dark side was the face of Empire. He created fear and left destruction in his path. He would not be mocked by the man whose large eyes held a sinister glaze in them.

'You don't know the true power of the Force, Tarkin,' Darth Vader said, his voice annunciating the man's name. 'I would be careful when mocking its existence. It might just turn on you.' 

As Vader turned to head down the walkway, Tarkin was short of breath. The thickness of the room had faded, but it seemed to have made its way into the uniformed man's throat. To appear unfazed, Tarkin turned to the windscreen to see the rebels retreat in their attack, all while his hand came up to pull at his stiff collar. 

Darth Vader left the control room and the tightness around the man's throat ceased, allowing him to let out a small cough. He blinked in slight confusion before his hand returned to be behind his back. He kept his stiff posture and reminded himself to be more careful around the Sith Lord. 

Vader headed for his personal ship in the hanger. He gave out a fleeting order to a passing workman to prepare its engines, which was heard and seen to immediately. Most men and women in the grey uniform and hat kept their gazes low. They didn't want to risk meeting his eye that was hidden behind the ominous mask and they stuck to the walls as his broad shoulders stayed central to the corridor.

There was only one person on the planet of Naboo that Vader knew could be behind the rebellion. He should have known as her goodwill and constant attempts to do good by the galaxy were never absent from any discussions with his representatives. He was glad that his face was covered, because the number of eyerolls he made when hearing about the senator's policies would be insulting. If the attack on the destroyer had come from Naboo, they had to have been under the orders of its representative, who had been dancing too close to the suspicious line for his liking. Afterall, it would be safe to assume that she knew his true identity, and that made her a threat. 

With one bionic foot half in the hanger, the rest of Darth Vader's body stopped in its pursuit. His heavy breathing paused as a feeling overcame him. The Force beamed with the familiar light that he had been watching for the past months and in order to focus, Vader let his mind be immersed in its realm. 

Unlike how it used to look when he was fooled by the lies of the Jedi Order, the Force's realm was dark and thick. The signatures in its hold were minimal because of the workmen and storm troopers lack of connection to the Force. This allowed Darth Vader to centralise the feeling that shook the walls that had solidified around his heart.

'....Help me,

Anakin!

...Please

....come and help me!' 

It was weak and muffled. Its words faded in and out of his hearing and weren't enough to lock onto. But the very sound of what he knew was the melodic voice of someone he once knew excited him greatly. Vader hadn't heard her voice in so long, and he had begun to forget how she spoke and how she said his name. 

His dead name, that is. 

If anyone else were to mutter that traitor, sickeningly good name, Vader would ensure that their neck would snap in two so that they could never utter it again. But if she were to whisper that nickname that he only liked to hear from her, and not the senator that he was about to visit on Naboo, Vader would question how much he had changed since seeing her last. 

'Lord Vader!'

With a harsh snap of his neck, the monstrous leader turned to look at the general that disturbed his moment of tranquility. In a rush of anger, Vader contemplated throwing the short man against the opposite wall of the hanger. His interruption had made it so that he wasn't able to immerse himself in the Force and listen for a second mere mumble of her voice. But he had to control his anger, or his Master would begin questioning his control.

'Your ship is ready for you,' the general bowed his head, unaware of the glare that seared from Vader's yellow eyes. With a roll of his shoulders and the return of his heavy breathing, Vader forced out a reply.

'Good work, General. I will be back shortly.'

---

 'Sol! I'm here, Sol!'

Owen Lars burst through the door of the house. His hair was flat against his forehead from the sweat that flooded his skin, and he left the speeder running in his frantic departure. In the dark house that was only lit by a singular light fixture on the wall of the hallway, Owen looked to where he heard heavy pants and sharp intakes of breath.

Her eyes were permanently scrunched, and her tongue darted out to wet her gaping lips. She had remained in her seat on the sofa for the time in between calling the farm to when Owen arrived at the house. Sol had spent the entire time focusing on her breathing and keeping her remaining strength on her presence in the Force. Her white flame was still hidden, but she didn't know much longer she would last. 

'W-Where's Beru?' Sol was able to make out in-between pants. She saw Owen rush down into the living room and she waited for his wife to appear after him. But when he pulled out a vial from his trouser pocket and unscrewed its cap, Sol began to worry.

'She's back at the farm. We need to get you into the speeder,' Owen slipped the vial into Sol's hand. 'Drink this. It'll help the contractions-' 

'W-What? I'm not leaving here!' Sol cried but was pulled back into a state of pain. As it shot up from her stomach, she brought the vial from Owen to her lips and swallowed its blue liquid. Almost immediately, a small relief fell over the twisting and expanding of her lower half and Sol was able to stand with the help of Owen's arm.

'Obi-wan was across the desert. He can make it to the farm, but it would take too long for him to get here on the Eopie,' Owen explained, guiding Sol towards the stairs. 'Beru is preparing everything. You don't have to worry-' 

'Don't have to worry?! I have babies coming out me!'

Owen winced as the hand that was on his shoulder clenched at his robes and a groan rippled through the waddling woman. Her other hand held her stomach as she made it up the stairs, and Owen was fearful for the speeder ride that was to come.

Sol continued her wails and groans when they exited the house. Thankfully, the suns were setting and the heat from the day had simmered to a cool breeze. It would have been an even more difficult journey if they were suffering the sinful temperatures of the daytime and Owen wasn't sure if overheating could cause complications with the birthing process. But with the evening approaching, there also came the awakening of the Tusken Raiders.  

As Obi-wan and Sol's house was in the Jundland Wastelands, there were tribes of Sand People and scavenging Jawas in between them and the moisture farm. They tended to come out at night, making Owen worry that they could run into trouble on the way back.

He wasn't forceful, but he rushed Sol into the passenger seat of the speeder. He made sure that her back was resting against the seat before he left to jump into the driver's side. Its engine was already humming thanks to his frantic sprint into the house, and Owen was able to pull away from the complex with the controls in full throttle. 

'Hold on, Sol,' Owen said as the breeze turned into a strong wind from their speed. 'Remember to keep yourself hidden. Obi-wan should be there already, okay?'

Sol let out a painful yelp and more tears slipped out her eyes. It was becoming impossible to breathe, keep her signature covered, and to not scream audibly all at the same time. The speeder moved across the desert quicker than an Eopie ever could. At this thought, Sol gripped the handle on the passenger door and prayed that Satele was at least watching over her, and that she would guide her children when she lost the power to do so.