I Could've Danced All Night

by She's a Star

Summary: Set a few days after Episode II. In order to ease up the tension caused after the last battle, the Jedi counsel holds a ball. Padmé and Anakin both attend, but obstacles meet them as they're forced to hide their love from the world.

Disclaimer: Star Wars belongs to George Lucas. The song 'I Could've Danced All Night' belongs to whoever created My Fair Lady, but for the purpose of this fic, let's pretend some space alien band came up with it, all righty?

Author's Note: This is my first Star Wars fic...Episode II inspired me to write some fluff. Reviews will be greatly appreciated! :) I know Padmé and Anakin are a bit OOC, but I just had to write them more playful and less solemn...the majority of the 'romantic' dialogue in the movie made me nauseous. *ducks as SW fans throw rotten fruit at her*

~*~

There shouldn't have even been a ball in the first place.

Try as Padmé Amidala might, and try she had indeed, the Jedi counsel had insisted on holding a ball to celebrate their victory over the Separatists in the most recent battle. She'd counted on Master Yoda to refuse; he was wise beyond his five hundred (give or take a few) years, and would certainly agree with her that a ball was the last thing they needed in these dark times.

But the little creature hadn't seen it this way at all.

'Coming soon, dark times are,' he'd proclaimed, green ears twitching slightly as he spoke. 'May as well have fun while fun is still to be had.'

Even Obi-Wan Kenobi, who usually seemed to be so firmly fixated on work before play, had accepted the news with a sparkle in animated blue-gray eyes, claiming that they needed to do a bit of lightening up.

This had led Padmé to question the usually-reasonable Jedi Knight's sanity.

Why was no one as serious about the dark times they would certainly soon face as she was??

A wave of anger overtook her as she yanked her hairbrush through dark tresses, brown eyes sparkling in annoyance as she studied herself in the mirror. Nothing good could come of this. Nothing. It wasn't unlikely that enemy troops would burst in during the middle of the whole affair and kill the majority of the guests. And that wasn't even if worst came to worst. Even if the evening went as well as it possibly could, it still meant standing with crystal glasses of assorted drinks for hours listening to different men who were at least thrice her age talk of politics, politics, and just for variety, more politics.

Good times indeed.

But then again, the evening didn't have to be so entirely horrible...

An involuntary smile crept across Padmé's face, cheeks flushing with pleasure as a certain Jedi apprentice danced into her mind.

Who now happened to be her husband.

The smile morphed into a genuinely giddy grin as she set the brush down and stifled giggles. Honestly, what true love could do to you! She'd always considered herself a cool, level-headed young woman, but now she'd been reduced to nothing more than a blushing schoolgirl!

The affair of their marriage was to remain a complete secret, and as far as she knew, the only people who were aware of the relationship were Anakin, the minister, and herself. There was something exhilarating about keeping a love so strong away from the rest of the world.

They were genuine star-crossed lovers, that was for sure.

Literally, she added silently, her smile blossoming even wider.

"Senator Amidala? Your dress has arrived."

She turned to see one of her handmaidens standing at the door, holding a gown designed specifically for the occasion in her arms.

Padmé stood from her vanity and inspected the dress for a moment before declaring, "It's lovely. Simply lovely."

Perhaps the ball wouldn't be such an awful occurrence after all.

~*~

"I detect that you are nervous about something, young Padawan," Obi-Wan observed with twinkling eyes.

Anakin Skywalker chewed his bottom lip nervously for a moment, eyes fixed on the entrance doors, and responded vaguely, "Do you detect it in the Force, Master?"

Studying the grand staircase which Padmé would descend from in mere moments, he tried desperately to regain composure.

"No," Obi-Wan returned, not bothering to even attempt at masking his amusement. "I just know a lovestruck fool when I see one."

Anakin opened his mouth to protest, but couldn't seem to conjure up words of defense. In all honesty, it was true; he was a lovestruck fool. And really, could anybody blame him?

Well, if anyone could, it was certainly his master.

In a more solemn tone, Obi-Wan murmured, "You know that the Jedi cannot form attachments; it isn't our way." Putting a heavy hand on Anakin's shoulder, he continued. "I fear it's already too late for you, but if you can still help it, don't get too attached to Senator Amidala. Only bad things will come of it."

"Yes, Master," Anakin said obediently, studying the floor. A strange pang hit his heart as he said the words, and half of him was positive that Obi-Wan wouldn't fall for it for a second. But luckily, the Jedi Knight pressed the matter no further.

A bit disturbed by the awkward silence, Anakin allowed his gaze to wander about the extravagantly decorated ballroom. Everything seemed to be glazed in a frosty sheen, causing the whole room to shimmer. On a platform across from the master and pupil, a band with a young female human vocalist, the rest assorted aliens, was setting up their instruments.

Already Jedi and politicians filled the grand room and were talking among themselves as a droid carried around trays of neon blue liquid, offering drinks to the different parties.

The band began to play, and Anakin felt a strange surge of longing dance through him. Oh, he wanted nothing more than to dance and dance with his wife the whole night through...to feel her body pressed against his, to smell her scent of soft floral perfume mixed with assorted makeups.

His wife.

Sometimes he wanted nothing more than to blurt out to Obi-Wan that they had been joined in marriage, that they were madly in love and nothing could ever change it. But much as he might want to, Anakin knew that he could never actually inform his mentor; the endless lecturing and disappointment were too much to bear. Still, sometimes it felt the secrecy was worse.

"Padmé Amidala," he heard Yoda's voice say warmly. "Good to see you, it is."

"It's wonderful to see you as well, Master Yoda," her reserved-yet-affectionate tone replied.

His heartbeat increasing, Anakin raised his gaze to her, and as though drawn by the power of their love, she glanced down at him. Icy blue eyes met warm brown ones, and small half-smiles grew on the faces of both lovers.

She looked beautiful. No...beautiful wasn't it, beautiful couldn't even begin to describe her. There were no words in the vernacular to do justice to his beloved. Her long dark hair fell in loose waves to bare shoulders, and an ebony dress clung to her curves; the flecks of glitter gave the illusion that she'd been enveloped in the night sky.

A word that could just scratch the surface of describing her finally jumped into his mind: radiant.

Truly radiant.

"Excuse me," Padmé said politely to Yoda, leaving the little green creature to study them with an expression that Anakin couldn't even begin to decipher.

She walked slowly, showing no signs of a rush to be held in his arms. There was no doubt that she concealed their secret love with much more skill than he possessed, and something about it just made him love her more.

"Obi-Wan," she greeted, a smile on her face as her eyes fell upon his master. With utmost nonchalance, her eyes fell upon Anakin. "Anakin. It's wonderful to see the both of you."

With a wry smile, Obi-Wan took her small hand in his own and kissed it lightly, watching Anakin all the while. He tried with all his might not to let jealousy overtake him: after all, Obi-Wan would never betray him and he knew it. But it still did not soothe his overwhelming desire to be with the woman he loved.

A pleasant smile lighting up her radiant features, Padmé offered her hand to Anakin, and he studied her for a moment before caressing it with his lips. The touch of her skin sent millions of tingles throughout him, and it took all his self-restraint not to sweep her up into his arms at once.

"Bed, bed, I couldn't go to bed...my head's too light to try to set it down."

The sweet soprano of the singer onstage dimly filled Anakin's ears, and he asked in a tone he hoped was casual, "Would you like to dance, Senator?"

Her dark eyes seemed to sparkle with excitement as she studied him. "I'd love to."

Obi-Wan shook his head knowingly as the two made their way out to the middle of the floor to join the few other couples. He knew what was happening; he'd have to be blind and deaf not to, and he didn't like it. Padmé was a lovely young woman, and Anakin showed great promise. But a Jedi couldn't love.

It could only end in tragedy.

~*~

"I could've danced all night...I could've danced all night, and still have begged for more..."

Padmé swayed slowly back and forth, feeling blissfully content with Anakin's arms encircling her. She knew they were certainly being watched by Yoda and Obi-Wan, and perhaps more than the two of them, but a certain dizzying lightness had taken over her and she couldn't bring herself to care.

"I could've spread my wings," she sang softly, staring up into Anakin's blue eyes, "And done a thousand things I've never done before."

"How do you know this?" Anakin asked with an amused smile.

"Just because I'm a politician-" she uttered the word with such over-exaggerated disgust that one would have thought it to be a horrible swear word, "-doesn't mean that I don't know my music."

"Well, excuse me, Senator," Anakin shot back, his eyes sparkling in teasing malice. "Not all of us are as cultured in the arts as you are."

"I know," she responded airily, shaking her head. "I don't believe you even deserve the honor of dancing with me...Annie."

"You know I hate it when you call me that," Anakin declared, fixing his mouth into a playful pout.

"I know," Padmé said sweetly before her own fair voice joined in with that of the singer once more. "I only know when he began to dance with me, I could have danced-"

"Danced, danced all niiiight!" Anakin joined in, his whispered warble horribly off-key.

Padmé immediately dissolved into giggles and attempted to stifle them by shoving her hand over her mouth. She could tell that more eyes were on them now, no question, and at once allowed herself to change back to serious-beyond-her-years Senator Amidala.

"Stop it, Anakin," she ordered in a whisper. "You're drawing attention to us."

Their interested audience gradually turned back to their conversations, leaving Anakin to hiss back, "I'm sick of the secrecy, Padmé. It's been only days, and already I feel like this is holding me back."

"Anakin-" she began to protest weakly.

"Isn't love supposed to make you fly instead of clipping your wings?"

Padmé opened her mouth to reply, but words failed her. She could feel a bittersweet ache dancing in her heart as she stared at him; he looked so much more like the little boy she'd met ten years ago rather than the man she'd fallen in love with.

Though the song that she'd loved desperately throughout her childhood had now ended and they'd moved on to a more modern piece, the words escaped her lips like water through cupped hands: no matter how hard one tried, they couldn't hold it in forever.

"I could've danced all night," she sang in a barely audible whisper. "I could've danced all night and still have begged for more...I could've spread my wings and done a thousand things I've never done before."

A small smile rose the corners of his lips, and Padmé found herself longing to kiss him again, to be with him without having to hide and pretend.

But that didn't matter: they would overcome the obstacles.

Love could conquer all.

"May I cut in?"

Both Padmé and Anakin turned to see Obi-Wan standing there, offering his hand with mocking gallantry.

"They're all beginning to talk among themselves," he added in a whisper. "They suspect something."

She exchanged a worried glance with Anakin for a split second before saying loudly, "I'd love to dance with you, Jedi Kenobi. Thank you, Anakin."

"Thank you," he replied weakly, looking awkward.

"Anakin!"

He turned with a sigh of relief to see Mace Windu heading towards him.

"Good bye," Padmé whispered to his back before allowing Obi-Wan to lead her across the floor, surprising her slightly with his dancing talents.

"Your love is very strong," he muttered to her. "I can feel it in the very air...I know I could still feel it, even if I had no knowledge of the Force."

"You'll tell no one?" Padmé asked anxiously.

After a moment of silent consideration, Obi-Wan shook his head. "I'll keep your secret, but I cannot promise that others will not find out on their own."

A grateful smile blossomed upon Padmé's face. "You're a great man, Jedi Kenobi. Thank you."

A wry sort of smirk twisted his lips. "I do what I can."

Padmé could feel her husband's eyes on her, and tingles seemed to run up and down her spine as Obi-Wan skillfully led her around the floor. He was a good man, a kind man, perhaps one of the greatest men she'd ever known, but the both of them knew that she'd rather be dancing with someone else.

Will we ever be able to dance together? she thought woefully. Will we ever be able to walk along the street holding hands? Will the secrecy end?

The questions lingered through her mind unanswered, for she was well aware that the future was clouded, a mystery.

But somehow, somehow their love would come through....

Somehow, they'd be able to spread their wings.

Somehow, they'd fly.

FIN