The following days was spent moving in with Padmé. She was gone most of the day, which is to be expected, so a few handmaidens stayed to help move my things. The apartment itself was stunning and huge, with multiple bathrooms and bedrooms. It was more like a home than an apartment. One room was obviously taken by Padmé, another by her handmaidens, Dormé, Teckla, Moteé, and Ellé. They seemed overjoyed to have me return, Moteé more than the others.

"I still don't like how I get a room all to myself and you four are all in one," I complain, as I put my clothes into drawers.

Teckla laughs as she makes the bed. "You are pregnant," she begins. "Once you have your child, the baby will also stay in here. I'm fairly certain we are all okay with our quarters."

"Yeah," Moteé chimes in as she unfolds boxes to be recycled. "Padmé has asked on more than one occasion if we'd prefer to sleep two to a room. Now I'm glad we said no."

"When will her majesty return anyway?" I ask with slight sarcasm. This earns a snort from the ever quiet Ellé who is dusting the never used room.

Moteé joins me in handling my clothing. "She should be back soon," she says as she picks up a dress and hangs it in the closet. "The senators are currently dealing with someone selling Republic weapons to the Separatists, but they'll probably send jedi to deal with it."

A sound of disgust came from Teckla. "There are too many terrible people who enjoy profitting off of war," she grumbles as she sit down roughly.

I smile softly at her. "Sadly, there's nothing we can do," I tell her gently. Her shoulders slump instead of being tense, but at least she's let some of her anger go.

"Nothing except raise our children to be better," Moteé prods. I roll my eyes as I close the drawer. I unpack the last box, setting the things on top of the dresser to deal with later, and unfold it, setting the box in the pile of cardboard. "You know," Moteé says, getting everyone's attention. "You never did tell us who the lucky man is."

Instead of answering, I sat down in a lounge chair by the window. This catches the attention of Teckla. "Cattleya," Teckla stresses lightly. "You can't avoid it forever."

All three pairs of eyes bore into mine, each with varying levels of amusement. "I-I can't," I stutter, close to breaking under the pressure. "I trust all of you, but it's not exactly something I can just admit."

Moteé glides over to me. "It can't be that bad, can it?" she off-handedly asks. "I mean, Teckla, Ellé, and I were present for Padmé and Anakin's wedding. A senator and a jedi isn't the easiest match."

"What?" I blurt out. "You three were there? I knew they loved each other the whole time, and still I didn't know they got married until the day I found I was pregnant."

Moteé dawns a look of guilt. "I guess that wasn't the right thing to say, but yeah, we were there."

"Anyway," Teckla interrupts, "she meant to offer words of reassurance that we won't judge and we'll keep it an utmost secret."

Ellé steps closer with her hand halfway in the air to get our attention. "And the sooner we find out, the sooner we can invite him over so you can see him without worrying over his identity," the usually silent girl continues.

"She makes an excellent point," Moteé agrees. "Please? It'll help put your mind at ease."

I glance between the three handmaidens as I quietly sigh. "It's Obi-Wan," I reveal, gazing down at my intertwined hands.

Gasps I heard from Moteé and Teckla, but not Ellé. "Who?" she questions, looking at us.

"Master Kenobi," Teckla starts. "Skywalker's former master."

"You've never met him?" Moteé asks. "Him and Anakin barely leave each other's sides."

An enlightened expression descends upon her face. "Is he the older jedi with the accent and beard?" she describes.

"Yeah, the one that seems like he has a stick up his ass at first then says a witty one-liner," Moteé carries on.

"Wow, what a lovely description," I say sarcastically.

Moteé stares at me silently for a moment before looking at the other two. "They're perfect for each other." I roll my eyes at her once again. It's a nice thing to say in retrospect, but apparently Obi and I are perfect for each other because we're both sarcastic. Do we have anything else in common?

Teckla chuckles at both of us. "So, we have two people who fell in love with jedi, one of whom got pregnant by one. What happened to jedi not being allowed to form attachments?" she asks kind of jokingly.

"Haven't you heard?" Moteé questions with a laugh. "That was totally a year ago. This is a new, war torn age where the jedi can freely mate."

Confusion swept over Ellé, poor girl. "Really?" she asks innocently.

"She's being sarcastic, Ellé," I explain. "Don't listen to her."

"That's what I usually do," she replies before going back to dusting, and I burst into laughter. She's so honest, it's hilarious.

Moteé, definitely mildly offended, didn't get the chance to say anything as someone walks into the room. Padmé, as stunning as usual, beams as she sees us all in here.

"I was wondering where you four were," Padmé says as she takes her headdress off to let her long hair flow. "I expected you all to be lounging on the couches drinking wine or something."

Teckla shakes her head. "Wine isn't good for the baby, and we were helping Cattleya get settled," she explains.

Padmé than answers, "Of course, alcohol shouldn't be a first choice for anyone." The senator then turns to me. "Are you feeling alright? Any nausea?"

I smile softly at her. "I'm fine, Padmé. Ask them how they're feeling," I urge, gesturing to the handmaidens. "They wouldn't let me carry any of the boxes, none of which were heavy, and I'm only maybe a month along."

Instead of looking peeved at my complaining or something along those lines, Padmé snorts in amusement. "Only you would complain about that." She then starts towards the door. "Come on, I'm starving and thinking of having Threepio order food."