Melancholia

"No. You're right...it would destroy us."

Anakin Skywalker's last soft-spoken words echoed with his footsteps as he strode alone across marble floors. The bitter truth of those words hung heavily in his heart. Padmé's wisdom helped him see the reality of their situation. There was too much at stake for the both of them to pursue his desires...and hers.

She loves me. I know she does. The young man began to ascend the staircase to his room. He had left Padmé alone; there was nothing more to be said and a moment longer with her would be too painful.

Mentally he replayed the events of the evening. They were so at ease over dinner. Afterwards, he rose from the table, pulled out her chair, and held out his hand to her. She placed her hand in his and stood, her eyes locked on his as she did so. He then led her into the parlor, where the servants had already set a blaze in the fireplace. Padmé had found the room a bit warm and she removed the wrap she'd worn at dinner just before sitting next to him on the love seat.

The proximity of her body, her wildflower scent, the tempting bare flesh exposed by her form-fitting leather bodice...it made him feel as intoxicated as though he'd drunk a bottle of wine. She'd looked at him expectantly; did she want him to kiss her? He glanced at her, wanting to take the chance again to taste her soft, succulent lips.

Instead, he'd been overwhelmed with the desire to finally admit to her all that was in his heart. He wanted her to know how he truly felt. Somehow the moment just seemed right.

Maybe it was too much too soon, he mused. Maybe I frightened her off.

He stopped for a moment at the top of the stairs and glanced back in the direction of the parlor. No, he amended, I don't regret telling her. It was best I know where we stand, if her feelings are the same, if we're possible...

Keeping his feelings inside would've been worse.

He reached the chamber assigned to him, went inside, and shut the door behind him. He didn't even bother to turn on the lights. With a deep sigh, he collapsed on the bed. A part of him felt like he was dying. What life could there be without Padmé in it? No sunrise would ever be as beautiful, the stars would never shine as brightly, the most exotic food and drink would be as bland as protein rations, his dream of knighthood had lesser meaning. Not even the flow of the Force could ever compensate for her musical laughter, her dark flashing eyes, her brilliant spirit. Why did the universe conspire to keep her from him, placing obstacles of rules and obligations between them? Why must it be so?

Anger tensed his jaw. Damn the Code, he thought. How could anyone expect a man to go through life without knowing love? What am I, a droid? And Padmé, was she to deny her own feelings as well because the Code forbade her to love him? He knew full well she had to force the words out, that she had to put on the pragmatic mask of a politician to pry herself away from him. Why couldn't they break free to live life the way they chose?

Anakin clenched his fists. It made him so angry to be powerless like this, where his fate was in the hands of others.

The beginnings of a rainfall and the rustle of a gentle breeze outside forced calm into his emotional storm. He had told Padmé he would do anything she asked and it was upon his honor as a Jedi and as a man to obey her wishes, regardless of the pain it brought him. He could endure far worse for her. He would have to treat her as a Senator now, not as the woman he loved, to make the rest of this mission easier for them both.

Yet nothing will quench the fire that will always burn for Padmé, he silently vowed. I have loved Padmé for half my life and as long as I draw breath I will love her still.