‘Where are you from?’ asked a voice in the dark.

Dormé, a young woman who had been imprisoned in this dark cell for longer than she could remember, had to think about this question for awhile before answering. She couldn’t tell if there was really someone on the other side of the cell or if she was just hearing voices. ‘Naboo. Where are you from?’ she replied. She didn’t want to admit that she was from Uriash.

She sat huddled on the ground, trying to keep warm with the scraps of a cloak that she had. The guards ripped and tore most of the clothing that she wore during her long stay here. She didn’t even know which planet she was on now because they took her by ship. They thought that she was someone important.

‘Maboo?’ the voice replied, sounding rather childish now.

Dormé wondered how old this voice was.

‘I’m from…I don’t remember,’ the voice replied. ‘It’s been too long. I can’t believe you speak Basic. I haven’t heard Basic in so long; I thought I forgot it.’

Then the voice was no longer speaking or responding to Dormé’s questions. She wondered if the person had fallen asleep.

The only way she could keep track of time was by the timing of the guards who checked on her every few hours. Sometimes there was food. Sometimes there was water. Most of the time, there was taunting and torture. No questions were asked of her. There was no purpose for their crimes against her except that they enjoyed doing it.

She never saw their faces. It was always too dark. Their voices were sinister. They told her she deserved it, that she was worthless. Would believing this make the torture stop?

Alone in her cell, Dormé horded pieces of stale bread, burying them under the dirt in a piece of cloth torn from her formerly royal blue cloak. It wasn’t the best of hiding spots, but she knew there were days when she was forced to go without food because they either forgot to feed her or wanted her to suffer. Her secret stash was the only thing that kept her alive.

There were times when she figured she had gone insane, that her entire life at court, in the palace at Theed with the other handmaidens had been a fantasy of the imagination. Certainly, it wasn’t real. It was just a dream of a little girl from Uriash who worked in the factories. How was this dirt floor any different from the one she knew at home? How were the captors any different from her own parents? She was used to this life. Being a member of Senator Amidala’s entourage, being recruited to portray Amidala and to be her decoy were but fantasies and illusions of grandeur.

‘What’s your name?’ the voice asked from the other side of the cell.

‘Dormé—’ she replied. ‘What’s yours?’

‘I’m so tired,’ the voice replied. ‘I’m going to sleep now. You talk to me until I sleep, Dormé?’

Dormé complied, understanding the voice’s desire not to give a name. She spoke about fairy stories that she had heard or made up when she was a child. She spoke of the Knights of the Old Guard, and damsels in distress who were saved by the handsome knights. She spoke of warrior queens, battle maidens, and adventures of peril that always ended happily. Even when her throat was cracked and dry, she finished her tale.

Unaware of how much time had passed since the guards last checked on her, Dormé found that her stash of food was nearly gone. She waited for a long time before shouting until her throat ached for anyone to help.

When she started to believe that she was now facing death, the young woman begged the goddess or whatever powers might be out there to help her and the voice on the other side of the cell.

The door opened and Dormé threw herself against the furthest wall, scared to even look at the towering figure standing in the doorway. Her eyes burned as she tried to make out the figure who was backlit by a powerful light and also held a glowing blue blade in his hand, causing the man to look like some otherworldly figure.

‘Dormé?’ the figure asked.

Slowly, she stood, keeping her back to the wall as she stared in confusion.

The man came toward her and she trembled, afraid for her life and for whatever torture might ensue.

‘I’m not going to hurt you—I’m trying to rescue you—Dormé,’ the man said.

Dormé saw a weapon and before he had a chance to shut it down, she grabbed it and aimed it at him. ‘Who are you?’

‘I’m Ferus Olin. I’m here to rescue you—’ he replied, putting his hands up in order to show that he did not intend to harm her and was at her mercy.

‘I don’t know you,’ she replied.

‘You know Master Arxia? Master Kenobi? Anakin Skywalker?’ Ferus asked her. ‘Look, the people that captured you are long gone, have been for it seems months, so if you want, I’ll just leave the door open and you can leave when you want…’

Dormé just gaped at him, still aiming his lightsaber at him as he continued to rattle on.

‘I was sent here by the Jedi Council because they believed the Separatists had an outpost here and that there was information we could use. There is some weapon of mass destruction, or plans for it, that are rumoured to be stored here and that’s really why I came, but then I heard you yelling—’

‘Anakin? Amidala—’ she asked, trying to piece this together. Was this real? ‘I was a handmaiden and decoy?’

Ferus nodded and scratched the back of his neck as he admitted, ‘I couldn’t really tell from their records, but I believe so. I can’t read Huttese very well, but they kept your name in Basic—that’s why I knew your name—’ He slowly put his hands down and was about to use the Force to snatch his lightsaber back from her.

Dormé’s eyes widened. She knew now that her past was not a lie, that she really had played Amidala’s decoy. That explained her clothing and the cloak.

Ferus sensed Anakin approaching and spun around.

‘Dormé?!’ Anakin exclaimed.

Dormé used Ferus’s lightsaber to slice off her braided hair. Her long braid of brown hair fell to the floor of the cell.

‘What are you doing?!’ Anakin shouted as he lunged forward, taking Dormé into his arms as Ferus retrieved his blade.

‘I don’t want to be her anymore,’ Dormé replied softly, her throat dry and sore.

The two Jedi tried to get her out of the cell and into the lighted hallway. It was so bright that it took her a moment for her eyes to adjust. ‘Wait—’ she said, stopping in her tracks.

‘What? What is it?’ Ferus asked.

‘The voice,’ she explained. ‘We have to save them too.’ She pointed to the cell next to hers and the two Jedi opened the cell.

Inside, there lay the body of a young boy, probably no older than six, though due to starvation looked much younger.

Dormé collapsed in tears and Ferus had to use the Force to get her to fall asleep so they could carry her back to their ship.

During their flight back to Coruscant, Ferus sensed Anakin’s troubled emotions, but didn’t understand why he felt it necessary to remain by the handmaiden’s side when she was perfectly all right. There wasn’t anything more they could do for her until they reached Coruscant. He could hear Anakin speaking to the unconscious young woman, though he couldn’t make out what he was saying.

When she awoke temporarily, Dormé looked up at Anakin. ‘The voice—his voice—he reminded me of you, if I had known you as a child…I thought knowing you was just a dream.’

‘It’s not a dream. I’m not letting anyone hurt you ever again, I swear it.’

She saw tears on his cheeks and reached up to wipe them away, though he caught her hand in his own. Dormé used her free hand to remove the glove over his metallic hand and pressed it against her cheek, kissing it.

His voice lulled her to sleep again and this time, she knew that when she awoke, her life would truly begin.