It was hard enough avoiding the questions of her castmates. They had guessed what Vader had wanted her for, and many had gone out of their way to offer her comfort. Comfort she did indeed need, but not for the reason they thought.
Nor did a summons arrive after the show, and Padmé tried to hope that none would ever come, but that Vader would be hustled off Naboo by his companion, making everything easy. As it was, it was easy enough just to do nothing.
She went to bed early that night, but after two hours of tossing and turning, she gave up on sleep. Instead she ended up sitting on her bed running through her lines.
“The most powerful of monarchs may fail to see the seeds of revolt when they are laid deep enough, and even as he raves at the most recent open incident he may fail to notice the detail, thought insignificant by him, which in time will germinate like a seed, and bring him down-” She was cut off by the door knocking, and she knew who it was.
She threw on her heaviest robe, walked from her bedroom to her living space, breathed in, out, and in again, and called, “Yes, Lord Vader?”
The door flung itself open, and also broke from its frame and crashed into the wall. Behind it, Darth Vader smoldered at her, his anger overpowering even from across the room. “Why did you not come?”
For a fleeting moment, she was wanted to say she hadn't thought she was allowed, that he had to call her. She'd heard that the Sith were able to detect falsehoods, but that wasn't entirely one; she genuinely hadn't know if she was allowed, so it just might fly. That was now the easy way out, to throw herself back into his arms and let him forget this evening.
She was frightened now, because she couldn't run with him blocking the entrance. She should have run the previous night; she could have then. But it was too late to undo what was already done. The best she could do was reject him now. Even though she feared if she got too close to where he was standing she might give in again.
“Why?” he demanded again.
“Because I hate the Emperor,” she answered. “I hate what he has done to my home, my world, and the galaxy I live in. I am no fool, my Lord. I know that as one of his servants, you may have the blood of thousands on your hands. Do you deny it?”
“I see no reason I should need to. Do you not remember what I told you last night? What you must know in your heart?”
“If the Force has handed me over to you, then I defy it! With all that I am. And who says we have not already served its purpose anyway? Perhaps there was no more purpose then for us to make a baby, did you think of that? If so, I would assume that's probably already happened.”
“But if that is true, then why do I still burn for you?” he replied, striding across the room until he breathed on her face.
The scent of him was temptation beyond endurance. Padmé backed into the corner, all too aware of her helplessness, not daring to breath.
“Why do you flee? Why do you fear me?”
“Why do you think?” she hissed. “You would destroy me.”
This would not do. She forced herself to stand up straight, begged her heart to stop hammering.
“Have you nothing more to say?” he asked, and now he sounded nothing but broken, which perhaps he knew was a new attack on her, the same way his inexperience had been the previous night. Only knowing she had faced that attack before kept Padmé from rushing to him.
“I could say many things,” she said, but spoke no further.
“You are a fool!” he finally cried, and turned and stalked out, his dark robes billowing about the broken doorframe in what Padmé hoped would be her last sight of him.
She thought it wouldn’t be, though. His desire for her was too great. He would come back and try to win her again, at least a few more times. But now that she had withstood his first assault, she had the general feeling she would be able to resist all subsequent ones, however much it hurt.