He would never forget the day they were married. The soft scent of blossoms permeated the air, and the setting sun shone gloriously on the lake. It was fitting, somehow, that their union would occur on the last day of summer.
Their vows echoed in his fragile, eggshell mind, one verse more than the others.
Till death do us part.
He'd not wanted to include that phrase, but she had insisted, always being the calm, rational mind.
"After all, Ani, it happens to everyone, sooner or later," she'd said softly. She had smiled at him then, placing a calming hand on his cheek, and he relented. He was impervious to
enemy fire, demented Sith Lords and tyrannical kings; but she could undo him with just one touch.
He knew that the thought of her very existence kept him alive each day, let alone her love for him. And in his heart, he knew that the Force had brought them together, so she could help him heal.
She was the perfect balm for his pain. Every kiss they shared signaled a new beginning, and the mere sight of her made his heart ache with desire. Nothing mattered but being by her side. The words didn't matter; their love said it all.
His voice had been steady throughout their entire ceremony. But his utterances couldn't help but shake with those words.
Till death do us part.
And death had parted them quickly. It was almost as if they'd never married at all.
Three and a half years hadn't been nearly enough for them to be in love. Their time together had been so perfect for so long; he'd gotten used to it, assumed that it was the way things would always be.
He'd just been learning how to be a husband when he'd found out he was going to be a father. He'd seen it in her face the moment he first saw her again that something was amiss.
A look of restraint. And even after she'd told him the news, he'd chuckled inwardly, noting how she never let herself be too happy unless she'd gotten approval from someone else. It was merely the ways of a learned politician.
Each time he looked back on that day, he could never be sure if he'd been lying or not. The feeling inside of him could have been akin to excitement, but in his heart he knew that it wasn't the right word.
Yes, his heartbeat had grown faster, and there didn't seem to be enough oxygen anywhere. But any of those symptoms could easily have been related to seeing his wife.
No.
In the coils of his belly, he sensed it. That primal, raw fear that always lay within him.
You're going to lose her, the voice hissed to him that night as he lay in the darkness beside her. He gritted his teeth, doing his best to ignore it. Their love was eternal. Nothing would ever come between them.
Their baby, while symbolizing all the love they had for one another, meant change.
He hadn't ever been good with change. But he pretended, for her sake, that he didn't think her love for him would be diminished by a child's presence, and that their lives would always be perfect.
They'd been lying together the night he'd returned, and she'd put his hand on the gentle swell of her belly. His brow had narrowed in focus, unsure of what it was he was supposed to do.
And then, he felt it. It was so small, that at first he'd thought he'd imagined it. But when it happened again as soft as a flutterby's wings, his heart ached, and he looked at Padmé in wonder. She'd beamed at him, squeezing his hand gently, before taking a solemn tone.
"Our baby will change our life, Ani. But know that my love for you will always remain, no matter what happens."
He'd kissed her hard then, his heart filling with sudden excitement over the impending birth of their baby.
Padmé always knew the right thing to say to calm his fears. And it was at that instant he knew he would be a good father.
But then he'd had that dream- the dream that tore his sanity apart, making it impossible for him to think of anything save one notion: to save Padmé at any cost.
The fear had never left, and it ate away at his heart like a krayt dragon, bit by bit until all that remained was the fear.
Even now, his heart clenched at the thought of his failure. Rather than saving his beloved, he had sent her to the grave.
And as much as he tried, and as much as he dreamt, he could never right what had happened- even in his sleep.
He'd only meant to save her.