She had been a queen. Now she was a fugitive, and her only concern was keeping her twin infants away from their father. Or the thing their father had become.
She stowed away on freighters. She bribed smugglers to help her. She hijacked ships and fought off bounty hunters and Imperials. When she could, she watched her children sleep, for it seemed they could sense when their father was drawing near.
For a time she found safe harbor with the Organas of Alderaan. They offered her refuge, but, no, she couldn’t remain anywhere for long. But she saw the cold necessity of leaving one of her children behind. Each was like a magnet, possessing a force that brought their father inevitably closer, and when they were together, the force was too conspicuous. So she left her daughter in the Organa’s care. She promised her she’d come back, if she could.
And then to the desert planet. She nearly did not make it, for a bounty hunter had picked up her trail. Obi Wan met her there. Hurriedly, she told Kenobi to watch over her boy. One day he would have to confront his father. Kenobi must prepare him for that day. Train him. Teach him. Show him there was still good in the world, everywhere he looked. And if he couldn’t find it, then he would have to be the source of it.
She blasted off the planet to lead the bounty hunter away, but her ship was damaged and couldn’t make the jump to hyperspace. So she turned back towards the pursuing ship, and she fired. To survive, the bounty hunter had no choice but to defend himself. He would have to report back to his master that the queen’s ship and all aboard were destroyed.
And for many years, that is what Vader thought.
Anyway, that’s the version of Amidala that exists in my head. Instead of, you know, what we got.