A/N: Deep thanks to those who take the time to provide reviews. There were some questions asked after the last chapter, but for the sake of time I'll supply the answers in the next author's note. Get comfy- this is the longest chapter yet.

Chapter 8. Unconditional Love

False hopes are worse than fears.

- J.R.R. Tolkien

Anakin did not ask for a prophecy to be held over his head anymore than we asked to fall in love. At least with us, though my husband has romantically begged to differ, wanting and loving me was his own choice. I suppose that's ultimately where I always differed the most with the Jedi in their treatment of him. In their own narrowed way, they saw Ani as their property as much as Watto did— only their shackles were around the very emotions of the heart: what you can care about, who you can care about, how much you can care about them. Just as he'd vehemently compelled me to the day I met him, I saw Anakin Skywalker first and foremost as a person— as a living, feeling being with just as much right to experience love as anyone else on the street. I'd never cared about the doctrines of the Jedi; their laws were distant, theoretical to me— until I was personally entangled by one fighting his own inner war to be in love with me. When I dared to confront the idea in the courtroom of my mind, I could not condone this rule that demanded he be deprived of a full life simply because he wanted to devote himself to public service. To me, that made as little sense as the Senate setting out to deprive me of it in mine.

Of course, when it comes to Anakin, I may be a little biased.

My failure to pause and consider exactly why the Jedi clung to their rules on attachment so severely would be the reckoning of us all.

A lifetime ago, I traveled through the frigidness of space with a young, fearful child. He alone had been awake in the nook of a royal Nubian starship while everyone else slept. I'd sneaked into the bay to hear the tragic updates coming from Sio Bibble, my eyes and ears on the ground during the Invasion of Naboo. The little boy complained that he was cold, so I'd draped him in a thick shawl as anyone with a heart would do. After he endearingly presented me with a Japor snippet, and we promised to always care for each other, I'd joined him in the seat and wrapped a comforting arm around the weeping child. He longed for his mother, so I held him to my side in as familial a way as possible, softly singing him lullabies my own mother once sung for me. Eventually, he'd fallen asleep tucked into my chest, and I'd rested my cheek on his bright blond head until I too drifted off. I could still remember the way his hair smelled of sun and sand— not unpleasantly, but like the suns had infiltrated too much to ever truly leave him. Tiny heat blisters would forever scar his body, in the same way the shine of the twin stars would permanently move in the coils of his hair. He was as much their solar property as anyone who'd ever laid a claim on him, but their trackers could not be removed.

Now, on a bustling refugee ship, my eyes lingered on the stretched out, dark figure sleeping on the cot a few feet away.

{Many things will change… but my caring for you will remain.}

Was this dashing young man who looked at me with such open desire really the same person as that little boy?

So much had changed about him. The shaved-down hair was just the start.

For a terrible moment I resented, even hated this man. I grieved and missed the little boy who was so innocent, so simple and easy to categorize despite his remarkable talents. He was the one who's attentive looks I could bemusedly disregard. I could put his affections away in a drawer the same way I had the pendant he gave me. In that coy boy's place was someone who constantly kept me on my toes, turned my own body against me, and ignited a pit of fire I was losing my balance over more with each passing hour.

The moment of angry red passed as swiftly as it came. But with it, I finally began to give Anakin more credit than thinking all this was my fault.

This was a dangerous thing to do. The more I recognized to myself that he was a capable adult, the less easy it was to dismiss his behavior.

I wasn't a novice when it came to recognizing when trouble was down the line, but I'd always responded to it accordingly. Anakin didn't necessarily terrify me because I sensed the edge of a precipice the closer I got to him.

He terrified me because the more I was in his company, the more I wanted to jump.

Anakin had removed his white overtunic upon the return to our camp, revealing himself again in his form-fitting vest. Somehow, he looked just as good-looking surrounded by a backdrop of crates in a dark freighter as he had beaming on my veranda with the sun on his face. But although my eyes continued to drift over his athletic form, I touched upon— in a very piercing way that went beyond any physical attraction— an emotion it would take me weeks to go back and label for this moment.

Yearning. Not for the past.

The passengers of the Jendirian Valley were long settled into their flight now, our course speedily taking us to Alderaan and beyond. The harmonious activity of the deck had been a welcome distraction after my rejection of Anakin in the engineering room, even as he and I had to navigate around crates, families, solo riders, pets, etc on our journey back from the elevator. There was a mood of optimism amongst the refugees. A handful produced music with their native instruments. Most stayed awake talking or playing games, but many slept on the floor where they lay. I hadn't realized how very lucky we were just to have a bed at all, much less the two we'd briefly held at the start of the voyage.

My mind had been too fretful with worry over Dormé and the rest of my Coruscant team, so I'd offered first rights to the cot to Anakin so as not to waste my turn. He'd taken it graciously, and fallen asleep quickly, despite the constant noise around us. I got the feeling he was used to finding whatever respite he could wherever he could on missions with Obi-Wan. He'd evidently adapted well to that element of the Jedi lifestyle, and if he still found space cold, he no longer said it.

Given his apparently voluminous appetite, I'd figured Anakin would want food whenever he awoke. The offerings from the line needed time to cool anyways, so I'd quietly begun sending Artoo on trips to fetch bowls and plates. I could have done it myself in half the time, but speed wasn't necessarily what I was after. As my gaze lingered on Ani from my seat at the table, he started slowly shifting from side to side in the bunk. Within a few minutes, he was absolutely restless.

"No… no. Mom, no!"

Concerned, I rose to my feet and went to him. To my shock, his forehead was visibly moist with sweat. I reached out and grabbed his shoulder, giving a quick but firm shake. "Ani?"

He came to with a start and stared back at me, confused. "W-what?"

"You seemed to be having a nightmare."

He stared at me closely, as if trying to see if he had revealed any of his secrets.

Sensing it wasn't the time to spring what I'd overheard on him, I gestured innocently to the table behind us. "Are you hungry?"

My hunch had been right. He nodded, suddenly energetic at the prospect of food as he sat up without further delay. "Thank you."

Ani once more settled into the makeshift seat as comfortably as he could with his long legs, but he seemed content. I joined him on the other side. The bowls called to our hungry stomachs even as their contents were even more suspect than earlier. The soup had been traded out for a grainy, mushy substance which felt ill-textured on my tongue. A quick look around at the way children were scarfing it down like it was only the second warm meal they'd had in years, and my complaints died on my lips.

We each took several bites in a comfortable silence. After we'd gotten multiple mouthfuls into us, the young man met my eye. I should have known he was about to say something unsettling by the way he began to fidget in his chair. "I look forward to seeing Naboo again. I've thought about it everyday since I left. …It's by far the most beautiful place I've ever seen."

He was staring at me too intently for such clean-handed comments, as if I was the human representation of the planet he spoke so fondly of. Which, in all fairness, was technically exactly my job. But even if he'd been a citizen and not a Jedi, he wasn't looking at me like I was a diplomat.

"You were just a little boy then," I answered. The lack of previous exposure to such copious amounts of greenery likely had a huge impression on his nine year old self. Surely, he'd seen many beautiful planets since then in his travels. Seen many angelic women. "It may not be as you remember it; time changes your perception."

His tone was confident, his eyes hiding nothing. "I think time has given me much more mature feelings to enhance my perception."

I dropped my gaze. At that moment, Artoo came by with another helping of bread, and I wished him thanks as he carried on his way. I fiddled with my new food as I stalled, quickly thinking how to smoothly maneuver the conversation elsewhere. He'd just alluded to his inability to travel. "Must be difficult having sworn your life to the Jedi. Not being able to visit the places you like, or do the things you like—"

"—Or be with the people that I love."

I was caught off guard by how quickly he jumped there. "Are you allowed to love?" I thought I knew the answer, but the emotion with which Anakin spoke made me doubt my knowledge. "I thought that was forbidden for a Jedi."

He looked sheepish, but I should've known he was merely crafting a reply that would suit him best. "Attachment is forbidden. Possession is forbidden. Compassion— which I would define as unconditional love…" he paused, as if making sure I was locked under his spell before he continued. He didn't have to wait long. "…is central to a Jedi's life." He cracked a smile, evidently wildly proud of his answer. "Mm, so, you might say we are encouraged to love."

Tricky tricky. But I was smiling, impressed at how he'd managed to swindle the words into his favor. He spoke with a suave grace that complimented his age. My thoughts of the little boy on the royal starship cruiser returned, and I found myself declaring the understatement of the millennia. "You've changed so much."

"Na, you haven't changed a bit." I anticipated a polite remark, perhaps that I hadn't physically aged much in over the years. I often heard this. Instead, he stunned me. "You're exactly the way I remember you in my dreams."

Dreams. Plural.

Remember. Present tense, not past.

Anakin was staring at me with expectation, as if he'd put the ball in my court and feverishly hoped I would finally do something with it this time.

Again, I failed to meet the moment. I didn't even attempt to find words. What answer could I give on the spot that would have dissuaded him without hinting at the effect he was having on me? So I shielded my eyes, returning to my bowl of mush like it was the best food I'd ever had.

I could practically feel his wave of disappointment, but he hadn't given up just yet. After a painfully short hiatus, he continued, "I doubt if Naboo has changed much either."

"It hasn't." I kept my eyes down.

"I can't wait to breathe the sweet breeze that comes off the rolling hills. Whenever I try to visualize the Force, those hills are what I see."

I looked up at him openly, relieved the conversation had turned to something as platonic as geography.

Then, with that intense stare of his, he whispered, "I love Naboo."

He had the nerve to let the sentence hang in the air. Just like that. With those deep blues locked on mine, conveying so much more than an adoration for a planet.

It was too late for me to look away. My mouth opened to say something, but my muddled brain didn't have anything planned, so I dumbly shut it again. I reached for the first thing that popped into my mind. "You were dreaming about your mother earlier, weren't you?"

The tension in his body shifted from being of excited expectation to an embodiment of stress. Anakin dropped his eyes down to the bowl in front of him, and I finally took a breath as I was released from the holding power of his stare. I scrapped the last of my bowl, not wanting to push him if he wasn't inclined to open up, but very willing to let the silence drag out under the guise of respectful patience versus my dumb inability to speak.

After a pause, he decided to be vulnerable with me. "Yes…" I peeked up at him again; his face was pained. "I left Tatooine so long ago, my memory of her is fading." He closed his eyes meditatively, as if actively trying to form a picture of his mother in his mind as he spoke. "I don't want to lose it. Recently, I've been seeing her in my dreams." He opened his eyes and looked at me, and all I could see in them now was fearful anxiety. "Vivid dreams… scary dreams. I worry about her."

I could remember all to well my traumatic nightmare last night about Cordé. My own discomfort from his earlier comments abated, and all I felt was empathy as I waded into his concern with him. Maybe that's why I put my spoon down and reached across the table to take his hand. I'd extended the gesture to Sasha, a complete stranger. How could I not do the same for someone I kept trying to convince myself was (just) an old friend? His hand was so much bigger than my own that I could really only hold his fingers and half his palm. I squeezed tightly in an earnest display of comfort. His thumb laid briefly on the back of my hand before it began tracing soft circles over the skin, grazing my knuckles.

"I'm sure they're just dreams," I assured, keeping my voice as soothing as I could. He met my eyes with a grateful look, but I could tell the anxiousness had only mildly and temporarily receded.

I gave his hand one last squeeze and then pulled back. The pads of his fingers seemed to grip on to mine I slid away, as if not ready to let go.

Suddenly, a familiar voice— albeit less grumpy this time— brought our attention away from the crumbs of our meal.

"Ah, excellent. I've been waiting for you to wake up." The words flowed friendly-enough from the mouth of Raloma's mate. He was standing off to the side next to a dividing wall. He walked over to take a stance end of our table, his hands on his hips, his focus on Anakin. "I'm Geet. Remember me?"

Ani and I both nodded politely. "We remember you," Anakin replied, coolly. His eyes flashed to me, and I gave a subtle shake of my head. If Geet had been hovering while Ani slept, I'd been too engrossed in my thoughts to notice him. "Can we help you with something?"

Geet grinned. "Actually, I'm here to pay you a, ah, a thank-you-favor for switching spaces with us. Somebody's managed to travel in possession of a dejarik board." His eyes lit up as he said the name of the game. "A group of us have been trading off playing against each other, but a couple guys rotated out to sleep or go back to their families. We could use another player to freshen things up."

"Holochess?" Anakin's eyebrows rose with what I gathered to be sincere appreciation, but he answered, "I can't say I know how to play."

This wasn't surprising. The only time a person like Anakin would want to be seated that long was if he was in the chair of a starfighter jet. A thoughtful, slow table game couldn't have been less his style.

"Damn." Geet raised a hand to scratch at the hair on his neck.

I waited for an invitation to come my way, even as just a gesture of courtesy. It didn't. Due to my petite size and my gender, I was used to being underestimated. But due to the ranks I'd held most of my life, I wasn't used to being overlooked. The ghosts of Borin and Tern— two of the fallen from my cruiser crew, who'd poured hours into teaching me the ways of dejarik— whispered in my ear encouragingly. Just as Geet lifted a hand in a wave of goodbye and took a breath in to speak the subsequent words, I announced with confidence, "I do."

Geet's eyes went wide. "You do?" He gave me— a seemingly delicate looking thing— the once over. He didn't seem to be a person spilling over with manners, but even he wasn't impolite enough to backtrack on a solicitation. "Well. Alright. Don't bring anything valuable or sentimental to gamble with. These guys are pretty good."

I smiled as sweetly as I could. "I won't. Thank you for the gracious welcoming."

All of a sudden, warm skin covered mine on the table. "Excuse us, may I have a private moment with my wife?" Anakin was looking at Geet, but had a gentle weight on my hand. The second after the recipient of his request shrugged and took a several steps away, turning his back to us, I pulled my hand free of his.

Anakin let me, but he was staring into my face reprovingly as he leaned forward across the table.

"What happened to keeping a low profile?"

"Is this coming from the man who sneaked us onto a maintenance elevator?"

A tiny smile crept across Ani's face at my use of the word "man", but he didn't cave that easily. "I did, successfully. We weren't caught. What is this?"

"I haven't been—" We were already whispering, but now my volume truly dropped as I mouthed the word, "—monarch—" my volume rose again, "for years. And I was covered with makeup during my reign." The white face paint and red Scar of Remembrance were a ceremonial custom, but they'd also been very handy for the decoy system. "And I'm known to the Naboo as their senator— I'm not as well known to others outside of the political sphere. There are thousands of senators, Ani. Even I don't know them all."

The words were laced with a dubious confidence. My unique connection to the chancellor placed me in more photographs than most other politicians. As a younger and apparently more eye-pleasing diplomat, even the gossip tabloids printed about me. Not to mention, there was a very somber reason why I would've been featured in the HoloNet as recently as the last solar day. There was no strategic merit to sitting down for a game of dejarik. I simply wanted to do it because… it sounded fun. I knew I was being risky. Careless. Brazen.

Anakin's influence was starting to rub off on me.

And, if I'm being honest, I was open to any excuse that would limit our one-on-one time together on the ship. He seemed fond of dropping intense statements that flustered me with alarming regularity.

He leaned in even closer, and I willingly strained forward to match his effort. Something about the twinkle in his eyes magnetically drew me in. "So, you get to wipe the floor at dejarik, but I don't get to touch any of the three engines? That hardly seems fair."

"What makes you so confident I'll win? You've never seen me play."

Anakin gifted me with an admiring smile. I suppressed the irrational urge to place an open palm back on the table for him. "You out maneuvered the Trade Federation at fourteen. I think whoever is about to face you at a table game should fold now."

My lips spread into a wide grin. I hadn't been seeking it, but I had his permission. "Then let us hope the first rule of dejarik doesn't apply here."

Sitting back in his seat, he crossed his arms over his chest and peered at me through squinted eyes. "What's the first rule of dejarik?"

"Never play against a wookie."

No wookie was present, but Geet hadn't been wrong— the established players were not amateurs. When we arrived they expected Anakin to be the new addition, but their greeting rang a little more of pleasant surprise than Geet's when they learned I would be taking the chair. I have no doubt this was a matter of them seeing me as an easy target.

Two players were in an active match when we joined the tableau— a bald human fellow and an alien who looked something like a seven foot tall fish come to life, but who spoke with the most charming and friendly personality. Given his fin-like extremities, he was lucky the game didn't involve the holding of any cards. I sat with Anakin at one side of the curved table and did my best to explain to him the rules of dejarik as efficiently as they'd been communicated to me.

After the human and fish-man's game finished, the table was offered to Anakin and I. I think the competitors wanted to sniff out both my potential skill and Anakin's possible natural beginner's luck after my detailed instructions to him, but it was an ill-matched preview. He wasn't terrible, but Anakin struggled to memorize the rules with enough speed to present much of a challenge, even with my continued guidance. I bested him within minutes. Instead of becoming embarrassed, he smiled as he rose from his chair to make way for the next opponent and shrugged nonchalantly. Sending a wink to me, he explained, "Slow learner."

From there, things got more dicey. To keep my winner's seat, I had to battle the other players one after another. Geet was all talk and no talent, the fish-man was decent, the bald human was better, but the other two— a brown haired human with a beard that twisted up and into his head braids, and an orange Twi'lek who spoke very little— were both the kind of challenge Bern and Torin prepared me for.

Anakin sat at my left arm the entire time. Once I deduced that none of our non-human counterparts possessed a heightened sense of hearing, I started leaning in to whisper my strategies to Anakin. It was a further method of teaching him, which I found myself enjoying immensely. As much as a pensive, disciplined game wasn't Anakin's natural way, he was not a man built to watch on the sidelines. I saw him take in my tips and insights with an eager study. He would huddle very close to insure we kept my trade secrets just between us, and more than once my lips brushed his ear as I whispered to him as intimately as if I were sharing government passwords. It was through this hushed communication and nearness that I was able to see and appreciate the beautiful curls present at the nape of his neck, just below the Padawan ponytail. Normally, he stood so tall above me that such delicate hairs were lost to my view. I cannot explain why the sight of those soft curls caused my fingers to stretch in my lap. Such urges were luckily kept hidden beneath the table.

After I'd bested each player twice, the mood shifted from casual fun to sullen dissatisfaction. The men, humanoid and not, took on an air of concentrated seriousness that mirrored the meetings I'd attended over the Separatist crisis. After two hours of play, the opponents were looking at me very differently from when I'd first joined. Only the fish-man's demeanor remained cheerful. Anakin, for his part, beamed at me with growing pride the more I dominated the board.

It was the bald player who eventually suggested a modification. "Has anyone here ever played dejarum?"

My eyes scanned my counterparts. No one except the Twi'lek had heard of it.

I spoke up for the rest of us. Bern and Torin had been thoroughly honored with my victory run, and I was open to a change of pace. "How do you play?"

"Oh, it's not that different from dejarik," the instigator replied, his look becoming more mischievous by the second. "We just adjust the board to add more players. Kind of a tournament style, if you will."

"If we're to make it multiple players," the Twi'lek cut in. "I say we finally raise the stakes— add some bets."

The fish-man's glossy eyes blinked nervously on either side of his head. "Credits?"

The prospect of volunteering currency was, understandably, a palpable hesitation on a ship ferrying refugees. While the bald man and the Twi'lek seemed to be on the more comfortable side of the economic spectrum based on a few of their comments, the others looked wary at the idea of risking what little they'd brought to start a new life with.

For their sake, I quickly spoke up. "No money. We must find an alternative that suits everyone."

Sometimes, my glossy Amidala voice is useful in the most unexpected of situations. All the same, the bald man— named Lon Su— eyed the expensive stitching on my sleeve. I met his thoughtful gaze, but he said nothing.

"Fine," the Twi'lek relented, begrudgingly. "But bet something to make it worth it. It's time we spice things up."

"I want back in," my Jedi protector declared, all eyes turning to him. "I'm ready."

I didn't particularly like the idea of gambling to begin with, but if we were to go forward with this change, I didn't see how Anakin and I had anything to offer up between even the one of us, much less two.

He was looking at me for support, but I eyed him cautiously. "Are you sure about this?" It wasn't that I didn't want Ani to enjoy the fun of playing, but I was worried about what he would bet. Most of the belongings we carried were, well, mine.

"Listen to your wife," the man with long beard good-naturedly warned. Then he paused, as apparent curiosity got the better of him. "What would you wager?"

Anakin ignored my frown as he undid Dormé's knot with nimble fingers and pulled the red scarf from his neck. He placed it on the table as if it were of the most treasured material in the galaxy. "This. It's Chimiliean silk."

I placed a warning hand on his shoulder, and he turned instantly at my touch. His eyes were tender as they took me in, even as I'm sure my face conveyed annoyance. "That's my scarf you're betting."

Anakin only smiled wickedly. He leaned towards me, his bright pools of shimmering lake water only inches from mine. I felt the air of his breath on my lips as he spoke. "Then I guess you better win, my love."

I felt a torch fire ignite in the back of my throat at his words and the look in his eyes as he delivered them. Geet let out a sudden belly laugh, briefly garnering my attention, even as he fixed Anakin and I with an earnest gaze. "Just don't expect me to bet our camp. You won't be getting that corner of space back today."

I sent up a silent prayer for Raloma and the four young children she'd been presumably handling by herself this whole time.

"You can keep your double beds," Anakin replied, his eyes still blazing a path across my face. His lips spread into a leisurely smile. "We only need the one." He was met with grins and laughs by the others. My cheeks grew heated. Regardless of the already established plan to take turns on the cot, the innuendo in his tone was obvious, and it would be some minutes before I felt relaxed enough to meet Anakin's gaze again.

So much for avoiding privacy in order to stop his flirtations.

I watched Lon Su's eyes scan over my well-tailored dress. I don't believe he thought I'd offer up an article of clothing as Anakin had, but no doubt he anticipated something valuable by the way he quipped, "What are you going to bet?"

"How about your head thing?" Geet was eyeballing my sundial headpiece with appreciation. His face broke into a wide smirk. "It's a good size. My wife might like it. If she can't wear it, she'll cook with it."

Geet seemed to only be joking, but it was the thoughtful stare of the fish-man that concerned me when he quietly mused, "It wouldn't be a bad dish to lay my next spawn in."

And that was the day I learned his species could lay eggs, no matter their gender. He appeared serious enough with the way he kept eyeing my head that I reflexively leaned further away from him in my seat.

An hour later, three of us remained at the rounded table. The bearded man, the Twi'lek, and Geet all had departed over the course of the single game as they'd each gradually lost their hand. Only Anakin, Lon Su, and I remained. The rules of dejarum indeed weren't all that different from dejarik, and Anakin evidently paid excellent attention to my instruction. A slow learner he might claim to be, but once comfortable, he was a formidable opponent. My only critique was his surprisingly aggressive style. Although his risks often paid off, he seemed to have decided to take the teachings I'd given him, alter them, and charge at his adversaries as offensively as possible.

My face was already poorly hidden from my proximity to the other players, and knowing I already had a scarf on the line, I'd bet my veil. It joined Ani's scarf in being removed and passed around to be inspected for its quality. I had no intention of facing the forfeiture of either fabric; I would use every morsel of wisdom Bern and Torin drilled into me before Lon Su walked away with anything from my wardrobe. This desire compounded each time he made a joke about swindling the revealed metal headpiece from me in my sleep and gifting it to the fish-man.

As grateful as I was to see the competition trim, the players who'd lost parted with their various items with somber duty. If I or Anakin won— as was my intention— I would make sure all property was restored to the original owners. I had absolutely no interest in taking anything from refugees, and I hoped Anakin was of the same opinion. In any case., I knew enough about Jedi to know he'd have to renounce any awarded possessions. No temporary secret identity would change that.

"We'll have to wrap this up soon, kiddos," Lon Su announced, eyeing my holographic Scrimp as it circled his vulnerable Monnok. "We'll be docking on Alderaan soon. That's my stop."

"Already?" Anakin's eyebrows shot up. Clear disappointment hung in the air in the way he asked.

I, on the other hand, rapidly experienced a flood of relief. There was a chance, however impossibly small, that we were about to receive the permission to return to Coruscant. Checking messages was impossible during lightspeed, but once we came out of it to arrive at Alderaan, any communications sent to us during our flight could finally be received. If Obi-Wan Kenobi pulled off a miracle and solved the mystery of my attackers in the half-day I'd been gone, Anakin and I could rush off the Jendirian Valley and board the next transport back to the capitol.

By the way my young companion kept looking over at me, the corners of his lips turned down regretfully, it dawned on me that he might well be aware of this possibility. He didn't seem near as eager as I to return to our origin so rapidly.

A separation from Anakin, whenever it came, was simply inevitable. At this specific thought, I foolishly expected to feel more rational neutrality— after all, he'd only been back in my life since yesterday morning— but I was surprised by the sudden weight on my chest. I furtively eyed the pinwheels on the back of his neck, resisting the seductive pull in my fingers yet again. Underneath the confused, twisted arteries of my heart was a pine for relief. Moments back in my apartment, in the engineering room, and at our makeshift dining table replayed in my head as I pretended to watch Lon Su's move.

{You're exactly the way I remember you in my dreams.}

Security benefits aside, a very real part of me was beginning to fear an extended stay in the romantic scenery of the Lake Country. But some other, quite unfamiliar and impassioned part wasn't ready to see him walk back out of my life so quickly.

Oblivious to my internal back-and-forth, Ani shifted his attention to our mutual opponent. "So," he nodded at the man's dagger on the table. It was Lon Su's offered wager, and I couldn't have had less interest in acquiring it if I tried. "Are you starting to regret your bet? You're losing pieces fast."

It was an effortless observation to make. Lon Su wasn't one of the initial players I'd found to be very advanced in skill, and so I'd zeroed in on the two more capable opponents first. Both the Twi'lek and the man with the long beard left the table with sour expressions, together going off in search of other entertainment. Lon Su still had a few tricks up his sleeve, and he held his own in the game longer than I'd expected, but in the last few minutes he practically seemed to lose all interest.

The remark came from Anakin, but Lon Su's green eyes settled on me. I didn't like the serpentine smile that grew on his alabaster face. "Oh, I have a feeling I'll be leaving this table a winner no matter what happens."

The voice that came from beside me didn't sound like the friendly, timid young man I knew. "I think you're overestimating your lucky streak."

I looked over at Anakin. Within seconds, he'd gone from timidly peeking over at me to graving staring down the other speaker.

Lon Su waved a lazy hand in our direction. "You can keep your scarf and your pretty veil. I'm interested in something far more valuable from you two."

Instead of raising my eyebrows or giving any other sort of surprise away, I intuitively slipped into the indifferent Amidala mask. Instinctual sensors rooted deep within picked up that the mood had shifted beyond the scope of a mere board game. My tone was level and firm. "I think you'll find that we have nothing more to offer."

"Oh, but you do," the bald man gave me a pointed look. "Senator."

Again, my face gave nothing away.

Anakin leaned forward on to the table, his forearms and elbows blocking the light of the holographic images we were all suddenly ignoring. "I think you've been out of the sun for too long," he whispered, but the words came out too threateningly to imply ridiculousness at Lon Su's address.

"I wasn't sure if it was you for a while," the man opposite me continued, his eyes tracing the rim of my cowl as if he could see underneath the cloth. "But you're no refugee. No. You wouldn't be here— dressed like that— unless you were trying to conceal your identity. What is it— an unsanctioned vacation? Hiding an affair?" I remained silent. The more he talked, the quicker I'd discover his motivation. Very likely, it was going to be a bribe to keep quiet. As if ready to prove me right, he shrugged and informally drawled, "I don't need to know all the particulars. But I can guess you don't want it broadcasted that you're heading to Naboo, which sounds like an advantageous proposition for—HEY!"

The man was suddenly interrupted by a strong hands lifting him up by the shoulder. Anakin had moved so fast I hadn't even realized he'd come to a stand until Lon Su was already halfway out of his chair. The frightened bald man immediately started struggling, and I stood up in shock and concern. "Ani!" I barely managed to keep my voice quiet, alarmed by the aggressiveness of his action. "Let him go!"

He threw me an impatient look, but at my anxious dismay, his grip on the wiggling man lessened. "Can you make it back to Artoo?"

"I said let him—"

"Me and my friend here are going to go for a walk and a chat," Anakin's hand slapped Lon Su's back. Hard. "Aren't we?"

Lon Su looked at Anakin, then at me, then back at the man with a still unbreakable hold right next to his neck. "Maybe I misspoke, I didn't mean—"

"Oh, there's no doubt of that," Anakin broke in. "I'm going to help you think even more advantageously for yourself next time than what you came up with."

I looked around us. Our tense stances were starting to draw attention from neighboring passengers. What is he thinking? "Ani, if your hope is to not draw attention to us, your plan is worse than his."

For the first time, Anakin looked around at the concerned faces watching the unraveling display. I held my breath as the situation sunk into his awareness. When he looked back at me this time, the fire glowed with less frenzy in his eyes. Their blaze moved south, as his cheeks grew flushed with the red heat of what I prayed was embarrassment. He took a deep breath and turned to look at Lon Su, who was still meekly trying to wrestle away from his locked grip on his shirt collar.

Anakin's voice was a tight murmur. "It seems my protectiveness over my wife got the better of me. Well," he sighed. The sound sounded almost like a warning growl. "You were saying?"

Lon Su looked at Anakin with pleading eyes. "Nothing. I was saying nothing at all. I have nothing to say."

After one more suspenseful moment, Anakin released Lon Su from his hold. The freed man sunk low into his chair, his knees presently unable to sustain him due to their vivid shake. Anakin towered over him next to the seat. "So long as it stays that way, I hope you have a wonderful new life on Alderaan." He crouched low, placing one hand on the table and the other on the back of Lon Su's chair as he whispered at eye-level, "And if it doesn't stay that way, there's not a corner of the universe you can hide where I won't find you. Understood?"

Lon Su nodded and swallowed. The obscene show of intimidation had worked.

Still processing what I'd just witnessed, I watched as Anakin silently collected the items from the table. He passed me the scarf, the veil, and the dagger, not meeting my eye, and picked up the other trinkets from the former players to carry himself. Then he stepped to the side and bade me move to walk in front of him. I was all to ready to exit the scene, but instead I gave a long, studious look at Lon Su. He returned it with half-scared, half-apologetic eyes.

His choice in handling the information he'd realized he possessed was extremely poor, but this wasn't an evil man. Too ambitious for his own good, but not evil. I walked up to his seat slowly, careful not to startle the clearly jittery watcher. My words flowed calmly, quietly. "I thank you for your discretion. I did not leave my post on Coruscant willingly."

After a beat, the man relaxed, then nodded at me solemnly. That simple nod gave me more confidence than all of Anakin's strong-arm tactics. With some misgivings, I pulled his dagger from the odd nest of accessories in my hands. Lon Su looked up at me gratefully as I placed it on the table.

Assured, I turned on my heel and led Anakin and I away. The holographic figures on the table swayed in their respective spots, abandoned and forgotten.

With his ridiculously capable legs, Anakin kept up with me easily as I hurried us back to Artoo and our camp. I didn't say a word to him during the walk, and I tried my best to avoid eye contact with other passengers as I passed them by. I'd lost the confidence I'd pretended to have before. Lon Su's recognition had me swerving through the field of people as covertly as possible, the entertainment of disguise thoroughly lost.

When we returned to the bunk, I threw Anakin's scarf on the stack of boxes we'd turned into an eating table and pulled the veil over my head blindly. It wasn't easy to attach myself— I'd struggled to do it while Ani slept earlier— but it was long past time I resumed carrying myself like a hunted senator. Behind me, I heard Anakin place the winnings from the other players on the table, too. When I turned round to face him, my uncooperative camouflage grasped tightly in one hand, my attention landed on the tall apprentice who was watching me carefully.

As much intensity as I directed his way, I kept my voice low. "Is that what the Jedi are teaching as restraint?"

At least Anakin had the grace to look shamefaced. He must've known this reprimand was coming. "I overreacted. I'm sorry."

Perhaps I should've accepted his apology and stopped there, but it appeared given too quickly. "You're here to protect me, Ani, not to be a bully."

It was subtle, but he flinched, as if my description wounded him. Wordlessly, he stepped forward, coming to a stop close enough to set off my internal alarm bells. He slowly reached out for the veil gripped in my fist. He pulled on it linearly, sliding the lacy material out of my hand like a short waterfall of fabric. Never breaking eye contact, he lifted the veil and used his considerable height to fluidly drape it over my metallic adornment. More surprisingly than this— I let him.

"I would never want you to see me that way, Padmé. I was only trying to keep you safe." He used both hands above and alongside my head to tuck Dormé's innovative adhesive lining of the veil into the crest. When he looked at me like this, despite his height, I once again saw the devout expression of the nine year old child I'd only seen echoes of. The fact that it was emanating from a grown man's body who was standing so close and had just mistreated another passenger was endlessly confounding.

The same fingers which were gripping Lon Su's collar minutes ago now gently adjusted and secured the veil until it was curtained evenly around my face. I was the imaginary Mrs. Zulub— the invisible refugee— once more. Or, at least, I once again looked the part.

My burn to discipline cooled against my better judgment. His ability to disarm me with a simple touch— a touch that only connected with my head covering, not even my skin— was borderline pathetic. When he finished with my veil, it was I who stepped back from him, taking a seat on one of the nearby boxes.

The only sign that Anakin noticed my retreat was his mouth only twitching up in a small, sad smile. "How did you get so good at dejarik?"

I blinked at the sudden turn in conversation. I had to think for a moment before giving my answer. "It's taught at the security forces academy in Theed. The idea is to encourage strategy and critical thinking." My voice became less academic as I told him about Bern and Torin, who'd learned the game when they'd signed up to be volunteers years ago. I brought them back to life for a few minutes, my lips stretching into their own sad smiles as I reminisced over the personalities and stories of my fallen servicemen. Ani sat on the edge of the bed and listened with an attentive ear, asking questions when he wanted to delve deeper into the details, but mostly staying a warm presence as I shared the memories with him. It was the first time I'd spoken about any of the lost like this since they'd been killed.

But it was too soon to talk about Cordé.

When I wistfully trailed off, Anakin was attuned enough to realize I'd finished. He came to a stand and strolled to the table. He smiled down at me in that shy way as he collected the winnings from the dejarik games into his hands, leaving the red scarf on the table.

"Wait here," he instructed, albeit without a trace of lordliness. "I'm going to take these back to their owners."

"Hold on a moment." Anakin stopped turning away at my softly given order. "You're forgetting your own token. Here."

I could have simply handed to him. Instead, it was his turn to observe me as I picked up the red scarf and encircled it around his neck, my fingers trying not to tremor as they brushed the curls at the base. I adjusted the cloth well enough, but I was used to having a dresser, not being one. I had to step even closer than I'd anticipated to work with the efficiency I told myself I was after.

Instead of becoming confused and then pompously pleased as he had with Dormé, Anakin's eyes were penetrating as he watched me carry out my impulsive move. In the privacy of my own mind, I went back back-and-forth rapidly over whether or not this was as big a deal as my heart rate was making it out to be.

My growing nerves made me clumsy, and I didn't tie the knot in as elegant a fashion as I sought out to do. Ultimately, I tucked half of it into the high rim of his vest as Dormé had. I failed to hide a hitch in my breath as my fingers suddenly made contact with the heated skin of his exposed collarbone. When I stole a glance up to announce him as ready, he was staring at me with that hungry look that made part of me panic-struck and all of me come vividly alive.

Alderaan was a mountaineer's paradise. I marveled at the snow-capped peaks around us, but it was the crisp air that inspired my lungs to stretch.

Anakin and I were stationed on an outdoor deck, each of us leaning against the banister overlooking the scenic vista of the Core planet. Unlike the Observation Deck/Room for stargazing, the Jendirian Valley actually had retractable panels on the top two floors to give occupants outdoor exposure. Excited by the prospect of fresh airflow, many passengers who weren't disembarking were gathered to soak in the sun and cool climate of our first stop. Despite the appreciative numbers, Ani and I were enjoying relative privacy in our area as we took in the view.

"I sent a message to Bail Organa just before we left, thanking him for his condolences after news of the attacks got out. Both of them." I paused briefly while I remembered the exchange outside the chancellor's office as the Loyalist Committee conjugated. Bail Prestor Organa was heartily sincere with his sympathy in person, too. I'd expressed thanks to him at the time, but in all respects, I'd been curt. Not pausing to think about the tragedy had been the only thing keeping me moving— it's why I'd even cut off Master Yoda when he'd offered similar sentiments. The ancient master wasn't usually one to express affections, and yet he'd been uncharacteristically poetic in expressing his relief at seeing me alive. My knee-jerk reaction to such unexpected tenderness was to ignore it entirely, or else start to cry right there in Palpatine's office.

I came out of my remembering to find Anakin wasn't looking at the mountains. He was studying my face. "Something about his condolences was different." It was a statement, not a question. Anakin was either flexing his Jedi insight or just becoming very good at reading me.

"Many messages came in from various other diplomats. His actually sounded like he had written it— not a senatorial aide. You'd be surprised and saddened to know how rare a gesture like that is."

"Low bar."

I couldn't disagree. I looked out over the magnificent vista. I pretended that if I said the words with enough of the conviction I felt, the gentleman of whom I spoke would somehow still sense them, even if it was weeks before he returned home. "He's a good man."

Anakin's gaze trailed out over the landscape the Oraganas ruled and represented. He let out a long exhale. "I've heard nothing to the contrary about Alderaan's senator." He seemed to hesitate before he asked, "Do you wish we could hide here?"

My lips folded under my teeth as I bit down on them, shaking my head. "No. Whatever threat is following me, I want to keep it as far away from innocents as possible. I wouldn't want to bring anything down on the Organas, or their people."

Not that I wanted to bring anything down on my own dear Naboo, but I knew Anakin would understand that was implied.

"Have you ever met the queen?"

"Breha?" I nodded. "Only a few times. She's an amazing woman. Intelligent. Kind. Very busy ruling the planet. She leaves the Coruscant business to her husband." I smiled at the memory of the stately woman just a few years my senior. The story of her romance with Prestor was the making of legends. "They're a beautiful couple. Very well matched."

I loved my home planet passionately, but if I hadn't been able to grow up on Naboo, Alderaan would be an easy second choice. Not only did its wondrous natural beauty still your breath in a similar if not identical style, but the morality of the people was closely aligned with my own. They were sister planets, in a way. Any child would be lucky to grow up there.

Of course, the stark difference in the governmental systems was difficult to look past. Naboo elected their monarchs; Alderaan's were hereditary. It was beyond fortunate that the planet was guided by such a noble, dutiful family as the Organas. One could only hope it would stay that way for generations to come.

I watched the wind play with Anakin's long Padawan braid. He seemed used to letting the air do with it what it would. "Most of these mountains are higher than Naboo's." I pointed to the lofty ridge directly to our left. The passion with which Queen Breha spoke to me of her planet had been immense, and various facts about her world stuck with me. "That's the start of a mountain range that will grow twice as high as what we can see from here."

"Alderaani enemies are all the poorer for it."

I was thrown by his comment, and I checked his face to see if Ani was making some sort of a bad joke. He wasn't. "Alderaan is peaceful. It doesn't have any enemies."

"I'm not implying they do. But all those mountains?" Anakin gestured in front of us, but really, he could have pointed anywhere. Cascading ranges of solid rock were all over the planet. "They're a natural barrier to an invasion. If anyone were to wake up one day and decide to challenge Alderaan, they'd be solely reliant on an aerial attack."

What did it say of Anakin and I in this moment, when I looked around at Alderaan and saw its peace, and his eyes saw the defensive advantages?

Noticing my unease with this turn of conversation, Anakin offered, much more genially, "I'm only trying to say— I mean it all as a good thing. Pacifist planets have a need for natural defenses just as much as hostile ones. More."

Does he remember who he's talking to? "We had swamps. Mountain ranges. Lakes. It didn't stop Nute Gunray," I bristled as I uttered the name. "Or his battle droids."

I could tell that Anakin was trying to be careful with his words, if only for my sake. "Theed was not without its weakness, milady."

The capitol city was protected from the south, with the tremendous cliffs and tributaries that led out to rivers and lakes— not easy landing points for aggressors with military hardware. But the north…

"You mean the Great Grass Plains."

A hush fell over us. My eyes looked out at Alderaan, but my mind saw the newly erected memorial on the green fields 40 kilometers beyond Theed. Too many brave Gungans died on those infamous plains, now sacred ground to all who called Naboo home. My thoughts turned to Jar Jar.

Thoughts of Jar Jar led to thoughts of Dormé. And Captain Typho. And all the rest of my courageous staff back on Coruscant. We'd received no communication from Obi-Wan or my team, which implied there were no updates. No news was presumably good news, but I longed to know how they were holding up. The losses from the occupation ten years ago were numerous, but in the past. My counterparts were living and breathing right now, lingering in the hot zone of danger while I sped away and marveled at panoramic vistas. Reminding myself that I'd left under a command from the chancellor himself was cold comfort. I regretted the last hug I'd given to Dormé— why hadn't I held her tighter? What if that was the last time I ever did?

I didn't even realize I was gripping the handrails tight enough to make my cold fingers hurt until the growing soreness seeped into my arms. I made myself take a deep breath and relax. Slowly, my focus shifted back to the landscape in front of me. What was it that Bail Organa always said about his home? 'The spring of my strength.' Perhaps he wouldn't mind if I tapped into Alderaan's spring as well. I inhaled again, more deeply. The light wind danced the lace of my veil against my cheeks.

As my gaze traveled to my right, a vibrant shade of purple caught my attention. My eyes met Sasha's— the bereaved young woman I'd sat with several hours before. She was standing under an awning, a forlorn look on her face as she watched Anakin and I. She was no more than a dozen meters from us, but, for all intents and purposes, she looked lost.

I gave her a small smile, but her expression didn't improve. If anything, she began eyeing me with confusion… and accusation.

The distraught way she gazed at me and my companion made me conscious of how far apart he and I were standing. When Ani and I jointly approached the railing, a good six feet of space just happened to be left between us. I hadn't been trying to shun him, nor I believe him me. We'd simply been so drawn directly to the view in front of our eyes. It was a distance greater than what was probably necessary had we been open in our respective roles of Jedi and Senator. To an onlooker such as Sasha, who believed us to be newlyweds, it was a canyon.

{Don't take any time with him for granted.}

I wanted to adjust the staging for her own broken heart's sake. Hence why I left my spot on the railing and headed towards Anakin. His eyes turned from the view to mine as I approached, his face growing more into a look of surprise as I crossed the invisible thresholds between professional, friendly, and into personal, more intimate space. I stood facing him for a moment, unsure of what to do next. He was looking down at me with wide blue eyes that matched the color of the winding rivers to the east of us. But his surprise had morphed into something closer to pure happiness, and a grin was spreading across his full lips. "Padmé?"

Mutely, I turned from him back towards the view, my elbows coming to a rest on the railing as I leaned my weight forward. Anakin hesitated for several seconds before matching my pose. His stance appeared casual but he was scanning my face intently.

"We're being watched," I whispered, though there was no chance of Sasha's either hearing me or reading my lips. She was behind me, and my face was really only visible to Anakin. If she'd been disapproving of our distance, our new close proximity would have to be enough for the poor girl's mournful heart. I was finally beginning to respect the wildfire between Anakin and I, and my act for Sasha drew the line touching.

Anakin immediately went into protector mode. His eyes scanned our surroundings, and I wondered if my words even caused him to stretch out his Force sensitivity to detect threats.

"No, no," I reassured. "The purple haired woman is behind me. She's the one who's fiancé was killed when they were fleeing their planet. The fiancé you look like." I resisted the urge to look over my shoulder. "My hair clearly isn't purple, but I think she sees them whenever she looks at us. Either way, she thinks we're newlyweds, and I thought…"

At my explanation progressed, something in Anakin seemed to deflate. His lips turned down disappointingly, and his frown lines deepened. I suddenly saw my walk through his eyes when I'd abruptly come to stand so close to him.

"Oh," he simply answered, his focus returning to the mountains. I didn't realize how much of his torso was still facing me until he was taking it away, shifting it more square with the view.

It was an uncomfortable moment as I realized it was likely that while attempting to sell a story to Sasha, I'd inadvertently caused Anakin pain instead.

My circadian rhythm was in shambles from the back-and-forth trips from Naboo to Coruscant. Had it really just been this morning that I'd donned my senatorial dress with the black vest and wide gray frock, my hair done up professionally, prepared to do battle in meetings or make more impassioned speeches in the Galactic Senate? Instead, I was trying to be as incognito as possible, speeding through space to travel lightyears away from my podiums of influence. Pretending to be married to Anakin.

After everything that happened back at the dejarik board, there was never a question of removing my veil or headpiece for the rest of the trip. But the sun dial expanding around my head made laying on my side completely impossible. However, I was distracted by other realities when I positioned myself flat on the bed. The top sheet and pillow still smelled like Anakin. It was a delicious scent. Masculine. Rustic.

Said delicious smelling man was currently bent over his improvised worktable. The toy of a child sitting near our camp broke, and he'd offered to repair it. Even with something as simple as a child's plaything, the contentment of tinkering with his hands made Anakin glow with contentment. As discreetly as I could, I worked with the limits of the headpiece to tilt my head and deeply breathe in the sheets.

I fell asleep while watching him work.

"No, really, it's fine."

"Poor man. Guess the honeymoon didn't last long! Haaahahaha!"

The sound of an urgent voice and mocking laughter stirred me awake. I peeked my eyes open, fighting a groggy haze that blurred my eyesight. I don't think I'd had long to settle into sleep before I'd been yanked back out of it by the disruption.

Slightly annoyed, I sat up and looked around me to discover the cause. Anakin was, strangely, on the dirty floor beside the bunk. His legs were sprawled out in front of him, and he was nearly horizontal, save the fact that he was propping his upper chest up by his elbows. His face was the color of Corellian wine.

A few yards away, the bearded man and the Twi'lek from the dejarik games were finding great comedy at the sight of Anakin on the ground.

"Oops, look out there, she's awake!" More laughter.

I looked again at Anakin, and when he finally glanced up at me, I expressively if silently communicated my desire for an explanation. If possible, he turned more crimson. "They, ah… they're making fun of us because I was sleeping on the floor next to you… instead of on the cot with you."

"Couldn't have even spared him the pillow, darling?" More obnoxious cackling. My annoyance tripled.

To this day, I can't explain the words that came out of my mouth. I could have just lied and said I wasn't tired anymore and wanted to get up, thereby giving Anakin free reign of the cot. Maybe I could have told the invasive men to get lost and gone back to sleep. I might be able to explain it by reasoning that before we drew anymore attention, my strategic instincts told me it was best to just jump to the quickest solution.

But truthfully, I suspect that inner voice who wanted to play with the fire wrestled control just long enough, because I know my logical brain didn't really strategize anything before I looked down at my 'groom' and simply commanded, "Get up here."

Anakin looked at me like I'd grown a second head.

"I said," I peeked up at the bystanders, then back to him. "Get up here."

He brought his feet underneath him and stood tall before me. I scooted over to the far side of the bunk. For a tense moment, I was paralyzed with anxiety. Do I face away from him, and risk my backside pressing into him? Or do I lay away from the wall, and risk being face to face with him? Can I even lay on my side at all? There was still the issue of the headpiece.

I didn't have time to figure it out. Anakin was awkwardly shuffling towards the bed, so in the name of efficiency I simply moved my back and rear as flush up against the wall of the bunk as much as I could manage, providing the widest amount of space between us as possible. I strained my neck to keep my head lifted several inches to balance the headpiece without applying enough pressure to topple it.

I nervously watched as he squatted down and then extended his legs far past mine on the bed. I saw the same panic of indecision cross his own face, before he ultimately laid on his side facing me. He folded his hands in a prayer clasp underneath his left cheek and ear.

The pair chuckling beyond us escaped my view as all I saw were blue eyes, full lips, tan skin, and blond hair. The tip of his nose was inches from mine. I felt scared to breathe.

"Aww, see? Ain't that an improvement? Happy honeymooning, lovebirds!"

To his credit, after the men moved on to the food line just beyond us, Anakin tried to shift his way back towards his side of the bed as much as possible. But there was only so far he could go before risking falling off.

The only thing more awkward than what I'd just done would've been to kick him out the second they'd stepped away— they hadn't gone far, after all. But my neck was starting to ache from its unnatural position, and the side of the headpiece warbled underneath me. The cowl hid the diagonal angle of my neck, but I knew Anakin could tell I was uncomfortable and no doubt immediately knew why.

"Lie on your back," he whispered. He could have said it at a normal volume. I wished he had. The breathy voice came across as intimate, especially with him so close.

I was too uncomfortable to argue. All while trying to make myself as small as possible, I carefully shuffled my weight underneath me so that I was on my back again, the veil struggling to keep up without tugging itself off. The high gray ceiling stared back at me boringly. I didn't know what to do with my hands. I awkwardly flapped them down at my sides, but my right pinky finger made infinitesimal contact with his knee. I jerked it back, moving my hands to clenched, then flat, then clenched again, to ultimately landing them folded on my stomach. I let out a short, perturbed sigh.

I could sense Anakin watching me as I squirmed about. I sneaked a peek at him. He looked incredibly amused.

I shift my gaze back up to the ceiling and rolled my eyes. "You're impossible."

He let out a quiet laugh. The air from it tickled my right cheek. "I've never seen a senator so flummoxed before."

I rolled my eyes again. "I bet you've also never seen a senator so up close before."

"That I haven't. But right now," he smiled. "You're not a senator. You're Mrs. Zulub."

I immediately eyed him with suspicion, but his mood was teasing. Jovial. Relaxed. This was the jester who knew better, not the brazen courtier who did but didn't care. This in turn allowed me to stand down a little. It was much easier to mitigate my own emotions when I wasn't actively scanning Anakin's face to keep up with his. Such an exercise was feeling more and more like trapping a bolt of lightning inside a glass box.

Anakin's chest swelled with air as he took a deep breath. "So… one bed. Looks like word has getting out that we're married. Do you like the left or right side?"

Relieved to see he was merely trying to be funny, I matched his play with a sarcastic inquiry of my own. "What is your friend the Force telling you?"

"That I'll be getting up soon and we'll continue taking turns."

"Wise friend."

I strained myself up to peek over his chest. The obnoxious pair was making their way through the buffet line, but not fast enough for my liking.

He saw me take in my brief survey. "How are our neighbors?"

Despite myself, I played along with Anakin as I settled my neck back down on the pillow. "Slow but steady. I think we should screen the neighbors before resettling in our new house, Mr. Zulub."

His tone was playful. "Or maybe just lose a dejarik match every once in a while. You could intimidate a wookie with that stare." I shouldn't have chuckled, but I did, and the sound of his joined with my own.

Would it have been too much to hope for an uneventful journey to Naboo? I let out a sigh. "What a flight."

"At least you got to learn more about hyperspace drives."

Learning that information for its own sake was perhaps the least remarkable aspect of our trip. I tilted my head. Anakin was looking at me under long lashes. We hadn't spoken of our time in the engineering room since coming back from it.

After a pause, I couldn't resist asking, "Do you know why I wanted us to see the lightspeed streaks?"

He exhaled with enough gust to move the lace by my temple. "Why do you think I dragged you out there? But I'm surprised you remember that day in the cockpit."

"Why do you think I let you drag me?"

He met my eye, and I held it as long as I could before I felt my pulse quicken. Then I looked away and pretended to straighten out the stiff fabric on my abdomen.

Anakin looked over his shoulder and then back at me. "Well. I think they've lost their invite to our housewarming party."

I raised an eyebrow, but I was happier to return to the world of make believe than the intense air of his silent gazes. "Oh, we're hosting that again, are we? And are you going to cook this time?"

Without missing a beat, "You know I can't resist an opportunity to show off my famous Zulub zacahroons."

My rib cage shook as I laughed. "Thank you for reminding me— I would like to petition a change of our last name, too."

At my genuine laughter, he bent his left elbow and propped his head up to be supported on his hand, giving himself a much better look at my face, and me likewise of his. "You're that ready to abandon a millennia of family history and honor?"

"It was my mistake to marry a man with such a ridiculous name."

Now he played theatrically indignant. "Who says it was my last name? Maybe we're from a culture where the husband takes the wife's name."

"Then I'd be doing our children a favor by saving them from my family heritage."

He was grinning so wide his cheeks must've been hurting. "Oh, so we have children now?"

I smirked at him. "That's how you know it's a fantasy."

He laughed. The bed shook slightly from the vibration. "I don't know, I think 'Senator Zulub' has a nice ring to it."

I rose another teasing eyebrow. I hadn't meant for the act to come across as suggestive.

Or did I? More and more, I didn't understand my own behavior.

"I thought I wasn't a senator right now."

He halted at my reply, his smile fading into a soft line as he studied me, as if deciphering the intent behind my words. His eyes moved around my face. I was close enough to him that I could see as they landed on my cheeks, my eyes, my lips. It was a subconscious reflex, but my own eyes flickered to his lips for the briefest of seconds. Yet with my face filling his vision as much as his did mine, Anakin saw. To him, it no doubt conveyed a signal, a willingness I'd not meant to imply. The light humor dissipated from his voice into something heavier. "Do you want to be?"

Hiding a blush from him at this distance would be impossible. I could only hope that the rush of heat I felt all over my body was scattered enough to leave little red left to rise in my cheeks.

All it would take was the slightest tilt of my head, a short lean in from him, and our lips would touch. It would be easy.

And yet so very complicated. That was exemplified enough by the torrent making its way through me. I cleared my throat, ending the spell that had started fun and flirtatious before evolving into something more. "I'm always a senator, first and foremost."

Anakin looked down at me, contemplative. He was immune to my spell-breaking for a few seconds longer than I. His eyes retraced their path over my face. "That's too bad," he whispered, this time his voice even lower and more wistful than before.

My formal dictation continued, as if I wasn't speaking to a handsome young man laying a breath away at my side, his eyes appreciating my face in the same way one would a sunset— if they wanted to kiss the sunset. "Anakin, we could do with more sleep. When we reach Theed it will be morning local time; we'll have a whole day in front of us." Going to the palace, meeting with Queen Jamillia, rendezvousing at home with my parents, traveling to the Lake Country… My head hurt from thinking about it all. Minus my brief reprieve, it had been an especially long day. And while it seemed he and I couldn't manage moving around the freighter without getting ourselves into trouble, we weren't handling the privacy of our camp much better. There were too many hours left in the flight. "I think it's best that you and I accept our current situation and actually try to get some sleep." I paused, then said very directly, "With you facing the other way."

I'd finally given him something more than another silent rejection, but just like I was too close to him to hide the flush in my cheeks, he was too near to conceal the disappointment in his face. Clearly, that hadn't been the answer he'd wanted. All the same, he adjusted himself, carefully moving within his own space of the cot till his broad back was to me. His Padawan ponytail stuck out from behind his head, the end of it grazing the portion of veil by my ear.

I had to fight the urge to lean in, to discover whether or not his hair still smelled of twin suns and warm sand. The memory of our cute sleep in the cold nook of the royal yacht finally felt like ten years ago. Just as I declared to him during our second meal, Anakin had clearly changed significantly in the intervening years. And somewhere in the course of our flight on the Jendirian Valley, I'd stopped wishing for a magical rewinding of the clock.

{…My caring for you will remain.}

{You're exactly the way I remember you in my dreams.}

Would he dream of me now? Here?

The prospect thrilled me far more than it should have.

Having Anakin so close, even with his back to me, only marginally tempered my pulse. To claim it took any less than two hours for me to fall asleep would be a bold lie. To pass the time, I closed my eyes and silently sang myself the very lullabies I'd once sung to the person beside me. When I'd run through them dozens of times each, I started composing new ones.

I had a good memory for such things. I was wholly unaware that— in just three years— I'd use the same lullabies sung to Ani with the ones I created lying next to him in order to serenade the life growing inside me.

But in the present, the ship sailed through the cold emptiness of space, ferrying Anakin and I towards whatever fate awaited us on Naboo.

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