My university has shut down for a bit and I'm drowning in work but I want to try to throw up as much Anidala content as I can right now. I know a lot of people are bored at home, so here you go! There's one more chapter to come soon!

The longer Padme looked at him the less she could ever imagine that the man talking with Obi-wan by the mirror couldbe a ballet dancer. She'd worked in this industry for five years and had her fair share of partners across company shows and most of them had been lithe, slim but firm and agile. But this man was different. Every part of him was broad, tall and looked more like a football player than a dancer. Despite her surprise, it wasn't her first time laying eyes on the man, though… No, everyone here knew his name. Anakin Skywalker. Labelled a ballet prodigy at nine years old and had been named "The Chosen One" of ballet at thirteen by Pointe magazine after finishing his schooling years early to perform in some of the top companies in America.

Companies fought over him like crazy, desperate to put the name Skywalker in lights on their entrances. Even casual fans knew his name from his stints in theatre and movies… If Padme wasn't mistaken, he'd even won a Hollywood award for his work on a romantic dancing movie a few years ago.

They'd never met before, but Padme knew all about Anakin Skywalker and why he was here. Lucky for the company, its owner, Obi-wan Kenobi, was old friends with him.

The Order, as was the company's name, was putting on an ambitious and dazzling show based on myths and legends in just six months. Everything from Arthurian legends to stories of Zeus was to be danced across the stage. It was the biggest – and by far the most expensive – show they'd ever done. It was risky to commit to something so immensely tremendous and so, Obi-wan had made a few calls and pulled a few favours and suddenly, Anakin Skywalker was joining the company for the season.

Of course, every woman in the company auditioned to dance as Anakin's partner. Every agent was wining and dining Obi-wan as if their careers depended on it – and for some, it did. Even women from rival companies had turned up to the auditions promising to switch over, Padme hadn't seen a waiting list so long since her amateur days.

Three weeks of auditions later Obi-wan told her himself that she'd been cast as the effervescent angel, seduced by Lucifer down to hell. She'd been cast opposite Anakin Skywalker.

Still, they hadn't ever met before and rehearsals were due to start soon. It was time to be the stout professional she prided herself on being and rectify that little problem immediately. They were going to be partners, after all, no point in delaying it. Breathing in one long, deep breath to steady any nerves, Padme set forth across the room. Neither man noticed her approach until just as she reached them, Obi-wan's eyes flicked passed Anakin and smiled, smacking the other man on the shoulder. "Ah! Anakin, here we are. This is your partner, Padme Naberrie."

She swallowed dryly, hating how much she had to crane her neck up to look at the man.

"Padme," he shook her hand, "I've heard a lot about you." Anakin smiled easily. "Obi-wan's been trying to get us together forever now – get us to dance together, I mean." He fumbled, "I, uh… I mean, I think we'll be good together. At dancing."

His face bloomed a deep red more and more as he spoke and Padme sunk her teeth into her lip to hold back laughter. It was definitely… Odd to see someone so graceful and purposeful on the stage be so… Well, awkward in person! The contrast was sweet. Any nerves that'd lingered in her stomach meeting him died away instantly. No, there was nothing to be afraid of here. His smile was infectious and she caught herself matching it.

"I hope so too." She said.

Obi-wan placed a hand on each of their shoulders suddenly, pulling Padme's attention away from her new partner and back to her boss. "Now, I've placed Anakin in charge of your training and preparation for the show. Do try to get along until it's over." He fixed them both with a stern look which even now, after years of working together made her wilt. It was like being reprimanded in her first ballet class as a child.

Still, this was irregular. The dancers were seldom in charge of themselves, they had choreographers for that, people who set out their workout routines and training schedules… It made her frown. Was Obi-wan letting Anakin do whatever he wanted in return for taking the starring role? Was he that desperate to book him? The man in question excused himself in favour of a meeting with the theatre owner, leaving the partners alone.

"Are you an early riser?" Anakin asked.

The question was unexpected enough to throw her. "What? Oh, um, well, not by nature but I set alarms when I need to." More often than not, being in this job, Padme's mornings were filled with yoga to keep her flexible and music just loud enough not to disturb her neighbours as she practised. There was a lot of work outside of work in this career. She couldn't remember the last time she'd spent a morning just in bed lazing around… Maybe when she was in school?

"Good. I'll go grab my cell and give you my number. We can meet at seven."

When getting up to meet Anakin at the ungodly hour of seven in the morning, she'd been too tired to put any real thought into what he wanted them to do. He'd instructed that she be dressed in workout gear but that was practically the norm for her anyway, so Padme thought about the request too much. It was cold out that morning, her breath shot out into the air in front of her as she moved, chest heaving with the effort. She'd never jogged once in her life but somehow, on this freezing morning, she found herself trailing miserably after Anakin on a six-mile route he'd planned.

"Why…" Padme panted, "Jesus… Why are we doing this again?" Before this morning, had anyone asked, she would have told them she was fit. She wasn't lazy and danced for hours a day, ballet was no small feat, after all, it took endless amounts of hard work and straining muscles. But right now, she felt as if she'd never exercised in her life. What the hell did running have to do with dancing anyway? Granted, she'd only had one glance at the choreography sheet written out for them, but she'd bet every shoe in her closet there was no running involved!

Anakin laughed as if he wasn't struggling with the run at all, which it seemed like he wasn't. "I've seen you dance, Padme. You're good. One of the best in the company, actually, but your endurance sucks. You get tired fast. Running will help with that."

Right away, she wanted to stop and demand who exactly he thought he was to have the right to critique her like that but closed her eyes and battled it down. "Try to get along," Obi-wan's words echoed in her mind. She was beginning to see why working with Anakin came with that warning. "My endurance is fine!" She huffed.

"Uh-huh. Then match my pace!" He took off suddenly like an excited puppy and Padme could only watch, wide-eyed and exhausted for a moment before gritting her teeth and forcing her burning legs after him. I'm going to be sick by the end of this… She thought gloomily.

If she'd ever doubted that Anakin took his craft very seriously, such doubts were blown away in the wind by the second week of their training. He was relentless. Padme had always thought Obi-wan could be something of a harsh mentor until being partnered with Anakin. Every single morning, they met in the park for a five-mile run followed by a two-hour session in the company's gym downstairs before starting their day of rehearsals. She was sore and exhausted and the creeping feeling of not living up to Anakin's expectations was making her frustrated.

She sucked in a breath as Anakin raised her body into the air for a moment, stiffening her arms and legs into perfect, graceful points but stumbled as he set her down, missing a beat. He noticed right away and released her waist. "I'm sorry," she sighed, running a hand over her face. They should be much further along with their routine by now! She was holding him back with these stupid little mistakes. Humiliation and fury battled in her chest but mostly, Padme just wanted to shove her face into a pillow and scream. This wasn't how it was supposed to be!

"It's alright," he said tensely, "we can try it again. From the top?"

Padme nodded rolled her neck. Anakin reset the music and approached once more. She counted the beats and began to move, dancing as if free and flowing but every movement calculated and controlled, graceful and lithe. It was just like how Obi-wan had instructed. She was the sinless angel, a creation of purity and every action on her part had to convey this to the audience. They had to see exactly what Anakin's Lucifer wanted to despoil. This performance was a story of lust, sensual and emotive. An angel seduced by the devil; a romance forbidden by the Gods themselves. It was supposed to be tantalising. Obi-wan had made it clear what he wanted from them since day one and when Padme had relayed it all to her best friend over the phone one night, Dorme had summed it up simply.

"So, basically, you're dance-fucking on stage?"

She wasn't entirely wrong.

They tried the lift again and this time Padme landed exactly as she was supposed to but they weren't in sync, their movements were off from one another and it just wasn't working. Anakin stopped with an annoyed growl, grabbing at the small black remote to pause the music. "Padme, what's the matter with you today?"

"Me?" She baulked, "You missed the spin just there! That's your fault."

They glared at each other for a long moment before Padme huffed and stormed out of the rehearsal room, tugging the sheer, glittery wrap skirt off her waist and tossing it toward her gym bag. She needed a moment. If this kept up, one of two things were going to happen. Either she was going to cry or she was going to hit him in his stupid, handsome face.

"Hey, wait!" Anakin's voice called after her but she ignored him. "Padme! C'mon, I'm sorry, come back!"

Up ahead there was the company's main fire door and she made toward it. The bright yellow sign threatening an alarm as punishment for misusing the exit didn't deter the dancer. It had been broken for years thanks to dancers sneaking out to smoke.

As soon as she was close enough, she barged through the doors, pushing on the grey metal bar and stepped outside into the cool air.

It was a refreshing change to the stifling air inside. Exactly what she needed. After a few minutes her fingers stopped trembling and the deep, boiling frustration she felt slowly began to fade away into calmness. This was highly unprofessional behaviour. She'd never walked out on a partner before today but she'd just been so angry. It wasn't working out according to the plan! There was no doubt Anakin was exceptionally talented, he'd proven that a hundred times over but Padme was still untested for the most part. This was the first time in her career she was being given the leading role.

She was the novice in this partnership. If their dance was awful and a failure with the critics, the blame would undoubtedly fall onto her. Who would hire her then? The woman who made Anakin Skywalker look bad... She had so much more at stake than Anakin did… And as it stood right now, they were going to suck. Their chemistry didn't click, the synchronisation was off and they were struggling to master a simple lift together!

Padme wasn't a quitter. She hadn't quit one thing her whole life but she actually wanted to walk away from this production. Wasn't it better to quit than to humiliate herself in front of hundreds of people every night by dancing horribly when compared to Anakin? Obi-wan had made a mistake. She'd been horrendously miscast. She wasn't like some of the other girls in the company, she just couldn't flow sensually through her steps as if floating on water. Padme was stiffer, disciplined… She was just… Average. Hardly the type of woman to catch the eye of Lucifer.

"Padme!" Anakin's voice broke her away from her thoughts and she jumped. "Hey, are you alright?"

What a stupid question, she thought. Of course, she wasn't alright! Would she have stormed out of the building like a diva if everything was alright? "I'm fine." She lied with a nod. "I just needed a few seconds."

Anakin watched her face for a few seconds before looking out onto the traffic with a sigh. "Look, Padme – "

Here it was. The ending of the partnership. A blind person could see this wasn't working out and she was prepared to walk away and let him find someone more suited to the role of his falling angel. Still, Padme had wanted this opportunity so badly… It hurt to surrender it. "I know, Anakin," she interrupted him. "This isn't working out. It's fine. I'll tell Obi-wan myself and maybe Sabe can step in for me? She's always thrived in the more sensual roles. I'll call him once we're inside."

He blinked and then shook his head. "No… Look, shut up and listen to me for a second. You're a good dancer, Padme. Amazing actually. Obi-wan thinks you're the best up-and-comer he has and I agree. You're just too stiff. You need to relax and just let the movements take you… Not everything has to be mapped out step by step."

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. He thought she was good after all this? Amazing? "But I… I don't…"

"Come back inside," Anakin offered her his hand. "I'll show you."

Shocked to silence, all Padme could do was nod numbly and take his extended hand. Once back inside the studio, Anakin picked up the remote again and pressed the circular play button. A moment later, the music began to thrum through the speakers again. He stood close behind her back and she shivered at the feel of his breath on her neck. "Relax," he murmured and began to slowly trail his fingers along the length of her arm, as per the routine. For the first time, his touch left goosebumps in its wake and Padme felt her heart race.

This time, it was different.

Three months later, the training was beginning to pay off. Anakin was still miles faster in their runs but Padme was struggling less and less to keep up when she needed to. Their routine grew smoother and more effortless by the day. They were getting better. Their movements were stronger and day by day they were conquering a little more of the routine. For the first time since partnering with Anakin, she felt confident and knowing.

They were supposed to be meeting right now to rehearse but Anakin had texted earlier to warn her he'd be late. Padme pottered around the studio, unsure of herself. How did one rehearse for a partnered dance without their partner? Picking up the little black remote, she flicked through the music options until something caught her attention, something quick and primitive. Something about the drums and chanting attracted Padme to its beat and almost without realising it, she began to move.

It began as a short lunge, pushing herself up to soar through the air. She landed too heavily and stumbled but for once, Padme had no witnesses and simply didn't care about the perfection of the art. She wanted, no, needed to move… To let off some steam and for the first time, Anakin's advice about letting go felt true. Altering the technique slightly, she sprung up into the air and glided back down into a spin. She moved her body to the music and felt every bit as primal as the beat. She jumped, floated, spun and panted her way around the room, eyes closed and lost in her own world. It felt like release… She'd never been so free in all her life. It was so physical and intuitive and deliciously, it was completely and utterly hers.

When the music ended, Padme finished on a final spin and breathed out the last morsels of tension in her body. She was flying above it all, every bit of stress from the past months so far below it was forgotten. She was untouchable, invulnerable… Freer than she'd been her whole life. Panting, she slowly peeled open her eyes, unwilling to return to earth from her high and jolted to see Anakin leaning against the door watching her.

"You done?" He asked but didn't sound annoyed… No, even from where he stood, Padme could see the heat in his eyes… No, that couldn't be right. She was still coming down and it was affecting her perception. She swallowed and nodded, breaking their joint gaze to retrieve the tutu from the rack in the corner. It was long and gauzy, absolutely something an innocent angel might wear. It helped to train while wearing it, to prepare for whatever costume she might be wearing later. Slipping it on, Padme breathed deeply to try and calm the warmth growing in her blood.

When she turned around, Anakin had discarded his things by the wall and then, he pulled off his shirt. Padme had to remind herself they were partners, professionals… It wasn't professional to gawk at one's partner. But still… He was tanned and built thick with toned muscles. She'd known he was fit but… Well, wow. She supposed she'd better get used to it, something told her with the sensuality of their performance, he'd more than likely be shirtless on the night too.

"I like the music you had on," He said quietly, fidgeting with the remote. "It's almost carnal… I'm going to suggest it to Obi-wan instead of the piece we've been using. Let's practice to it and see how it works."

"Are we allowed to do that? That's a big change."

Anakin turned around and smirked, "he said it himself, I'm in charge… I think he'll throw a fit and then come around afterwards. Us getting this perfect will help."

She couldn't help but smile at that.

He pressed play and the music played once more. Something about it made her heart race. Anakin and Padme circled each other as if preparing to fight over something precious. Her heart pounded. The air around them felt electric, something she had firmly thought was reserved for characters in movies or for loose metaphors in her books. But she'd been wrong. The air crackled between them. Her skin felt like pins and needles.

As required, Padme began with tentative steps outwards, an angel exploring a new realm she's never seen before. She was fully in character, blind to the fact she was being watched by Lucifer from a shortening distance as he slowly crept up behind her, captivated. Anakin did as his character needed, gliding up behind her and pressing his hands to her hips, lifting her effortlessly as Padme curved herself into an exaggerated swoon of surprise. Her limbs moved artfully, bending to create an air of grace in her movements. She felt hot, imagined that her skin was scorching to his touch even through her skirt and leggings.

Lucifer and the angel battled, one to keep and one to escape. The angel was never able to get more than a step away from Lucifer's arms. One long spin in Anakin's arms symbolised their descent into hell, Lucifer's dominion and the beginning of the angel's damnation. This was furthered by Anakin easily placing Padme's form over his shoulder, even as her arms and legs flared artfully, revealing her discontent. For once, she felt strong and delicate, curving her limbs into the necessary motion smoother than ever before.

Lucifer released the angel and the chase resumed. Anakin darted forward with the speed and grace of a hunter after its prey but Padme spun away, trailing her hand adroitly behind her, which he took full advantage of, capturing it and tugging, forcing Padme's body back to his. He placed her warm palm against his chest and pushed it down, lower over the hard ridges of his stomach to his thigh. She snapped it back as if unwilling to touch him so obscenely.

Anakin released her and the angel leapt away. Padme didn't need to look back over her shoulder to know that he was there behind her, she could feel him, sense his movements as easily as her own. They were, finally, in perfect unison, moving as one. They jumped at the same height and held their heads identically when they moved. It was perfect.

In the final moments of the scene, Lucifer caught up to his prey one last time. He fell to one knee, offering himself, his dark heart, corrupted soul and hard body to the angel in exchange for submission. After one last show of indecisiveness, the angel fell to him, draping herself over his thigh backwards so that Anakin had to support her head in one palm. The other, at a later time, would be filled with dark paint to mar the angel's pristine appearance with his darkness once and for all. They pretended that he did, Anakin trailing his fingers over Padme's cheek and lips in a sensual non-kiss of claiming.

The music ended and they remained there, panting and locked in one another's gaze until Padme pushed herself up and off him. Adrenaline and pride flooded through her veins, she didn't need him to tell her it was the best they'd ever been. She felt tired, satisfied, utterly spent and beyond proud of them. Anakin felt the same way, the pride beamed out of his smile and when he pulled her in for a hug, their bodies collided all too willingly.

For every performance produced by The Order, Obi-wan insisted on a dress rehearsal in the theatre two weeks before curtains up. He perched himself in the best seat in the house and scrawled notes in a notebook. Things he liked, didn't like, ideas he wanted to add or take away… Receiving his notes was always a frightening thing so close to opening night. More often than not, it was the choreographer who'd pass along the more specific ideas, barking about where legs should be held higher or arms held stiffer. No one wanted to see a dancer straining with the effort.

Anakin and Padme's piece was the show's grand finale. Before them was the story of Guinevere and Lancelot whose tale was both romantically tragic and magical all at once. She stood in the wings as Sabe pranced around with Rush feigning all-consuming love despite the circumstances their characters found themselves in. Nervousness tore at Padme and she curled her hands up into tight fists and released over and over again to distract herself from how uncomfortable she felt.

Being cast as an angel, Padme had expected to be dressed like one… a long, romantic tutu, perhaps an off the shoulder bodice piece which glittered beneath the lights to symbolise her innocence and purity. And she'd been correct, to an extent. The bodice was stunning white lace studded with specialised crystals to match the white feathery wings attached to her back, but at a heated moment in their dance, Anakin was to tear at her outfit, leaving her exposed in erotic tatters.

She'd never been exposed to so many people before.

When the specially designed tearaway fabric was torn off, she'd be left in a silver fabric that crisscrossed over her breasts, revealing everything but nothing at once, it did the same over her stomach before combining itself into a shorter version of her tutu, just long enough to keep Padme's actual modesty concealed. The hairstylist had received word from Obi-wan directly that her hair was to be down and wavy, natural and sleek. She knew it would be irritating when it tickled at the exposed skin of her back when Anakin pulled off her costume.

She hadn't seen him yet, he was called in earlier than she was, apparently needing more make-up to appear as the King of hell than Padme did as an angel. Her arms and collarbones had been dusted with subtle glitter to create a glow beneath the lights, her eyes were lined with silver, the artist had painted a small black heart on her cheekbone and her face was coated in a fine layer of shimmering dust. The exact instructions from Obi-wan were that she was to look "ethereal".

Imagining what Anakin had to endure as King of the underworld made her smirk. It was difficult to imagine him sitting still long enough to allow various people to apply makeup and fuss with his hair.

Guinevere and Lancelot's music came to an end. Sabe and Rush came toward the edge of the stage to stand before Obi-wan's cool gaze as he walked to the stage took them in. From where she stood, Padme couldn't overhear their feedback and whether it was positive or negative. A part of her was glad of it. It meant if he tore her and Anakin's performance apart no one would know but them.

A few moments later, Obi-wan's voice called out, "next!"

Padme took a deep, steadying breath as the music began to play, starting softly and lulling both the audience and the angel into a false sense of security. She danced out onto the stage in the way she'd practice hundreds of times before, leaping and frolicking around without a care. Pretending to pick flowers from what would later be props of hedges and bushes, the angel revelled in the beauty of nature. Suddenly, the music grew more primal as drums and strings leaked into the sound, an audible threat as Anakin danced his way onstage. Padme managed a glance over her shoulder and felt her throat dry. He'd been dressed in long black pants and a matching black cloak which gave his already large stature a look of godly enormity. Just like she'd imagined, he was shirtless beneath the cloak. He appeared dark and powerful, every inch of him screamed of danger. A true King of hell.

Just as the dance required, he stalked her, slithering around effortlessly until he was close enough to wrap his arms around her waist and pull her to him. Padme's back pressed tight against his muscular chest and she leaned forward, attempting without any real force to get away. This move was repeated a few times with some spinning and twirling incorporated. Each time he caught her and held her to him.

Being so close to him allowed Padme to take in the cosmetic transformation he'd undergone properly, and it almost knocked her out of character. He was beautiful. His features were highlighted in blacks and blues and dark colouring around his eyes which only made Anakin's searing gaze that much more intense. He was otherworldly, a creature of the underworld indeed. A direct contrast to the make-up which gave her the appearance of a pristine pearl whose protective shell was about to be plundered.

Padme swore she saw his eyes widen for a moment.

Anakin lifted her over his shoulder as they danced their descent into hell while Padme faked her graceful protest. The moment he set her on her feet, she was off, dancing away with feigned desperation to distract the eye of the audience as Anakin crossed the stage under the cover of black lights to retrieve the little tin of paint. It would be hidden beneath his cloak sleeve to keep it a surprise. He returned to her, dancing around her body and grasped the silky laces which held her costume together. They spun together as Lucifer undressed the angel and she took a deep breath as her layers fell away. Disgraced, desired and for the first time, utterly free, the angel was supposed to be caught by her abductor and give herself freely. Anakin was expecting this, it was what they rehearsed after all.

Unable to help herself, a daring smile came across Padme's face as for the first time, she deviated from the strict choreography. Anakin's eyes widened in understanding before narrowing as he dove toward her. She was supposed to have been caught and be surrendering herself to him right now and his irritation was clear but she wanted her angel to enjoy one last moment of freedom before devoting herself to him. She ducked beneath his arms and reached out to the audience seating, for her independence as Lucifer grabbed her hand and tugged her backwards once more.

He lowered to one knee and Padme fell over him, feeling his palm cradling her head carefully, fingers threading through her hair. He was supposed to lightly dip his fingers into the black paint strapped to his wrist and gently trail it over her cheek and lips but he had a deviation of his own, inspired, no doubt by his annoyance at her. She arched her back as his hand dipped into the paint, offering herself, her body, her soul and freedom to hell's keeper and he accepted.

The paint was non-toxic and edible due to the painting over her lips. Unfortunately, it tasted like liquorice, Padme's least favourite flavour.

As Anakin trailed his fingers over her cheek, he was usually gentle and careful at this point but he glared down at her and dragged his finger over her flesh, staining her, claiming her, and Padme allowed it. Heat blazed through her body as arousal and adrenaline rushed in her veins. His fingers paused at her lips before pushing, also something new, and she obliged him, arching up further to meet him. She opened her lips and closed her mouth around his fingers and saw the want burn in his eyes. His chest heaved as his eyes darkened and he tore his fingers free, recoating them in paint and crushed them against her chin, dragging them and his stain down over her throat and between her breasts, branding Padme's angel with his touch.

The music ended to silence as Anakin and Padme's eyes bore into one another and then the sound of Obi-wan's thundering applause filled the theatre but it felt like a thousand miles away. All Padme could hear was the pounding of blood in her ears and see the desire she'd sparked in Anakin's eyes.

Please review if you want a part 2!