The rest of Obi-Wan's week spent on Naboo rolled by without incident. Even the terrorists seemed to have taken a break. Diplomats and government officials had become tourists, Theed transforming into a relaxing retreat. The weather was mild, skies clear, and the air was fresh.
For her part, Senator Padmé Amidala was having a difficult time concentrating on politics. She was able to give the Queen advice on how best to act, but thank the gods she wasn't making the decisions herself. Her mind was clouded. Though she had seen him infrequently since bringing him breakfast, he was in her every thought.
His image filled her eyes, his voice was music her longing ears, and the memory of his touch, his deep embrace, warmed her soul.
Suddenly she was painfully aware of her attraction. He had somehow ignited a fire within her. A spark he placed six years ago had, in just one week, grown to a bonfire. It was probably best that she hadn't seen more of him.
In the small amount of time they had had together through the week, each had come to regard the other as a friend. They were more than acquaintances, more than fellow soldiers. In the small exchanges shared during formal dinners with the Queen or in passing, there had grown mutual respect, compassion, and genuine affection.
But there was something else that lay beneath those socially acceptable feelings. For both Senator and Jedi there existed an insatiable sexual attraction. Each time eyes of deep, seductive brown met vibrant, Force-filled blue-green, a palpable energy shot between them.
But there was only one problem. She was a Senator, a well respected representative of the Republic. And he was a Jedi Knight, who had sworn his life to protect, keep peace in, and uphold that very same Republic. Keeping the status-quo was imperative. For each to do their sworn duty to the best of their ability there was no room for romance.
It was this mutual understanding that forced the pair to keep a respectful distance from one another. They knew that to pursue a relationship would be hopeless. Each accepted the deep friendship that had been forged, and pushed aside their mutual attraction.
I'm just fooling myself, she would think, He's a Jedi, He's incapable of feeling . . . anything for me.
I have to stop thinking about her! He would chastise himself, I am a Jedi and there is no possible way for me to be her lover too . . . Not without serious consequences.
For his last dinner on Naboo, Queen Shalla had gone above and beyond. The ruler had invited all of the major dignitaries that were on-world to a feast in the Jedi's honor. Even Gungan leader Boss Nass, whom Obi-Wan had not seen for many years, was in attendance and gave the Jedi a huge, rib-crushing hug upon his arrival.
Just as the Council had sent one of their most prominent Knights to Naboo as a sign of faith and support, so the Queen had decided to give this grand meal to do likewise. And though he had not really done anything to help the Queen with her current problems, he was nonetheless touched by her gift.
All of the Queen's guests were seated around a long rectangular table which had been set with white and gold dinnerware that shined brilliantly in the candlelight that was the sole lighting in the room. The palace servants brought out each plate individually and happily kept all wine glasses full.
To be quite honest, Noobian cuisine was far too good. Obi-Wan easily became quite fond of its varied flavors and sensations. Different types of foods native to the planet elicited a different chemical response in the body. Where one kind would make the eater feel tingly, another would make them feel warm and fuzzy. Perhaps the most amazing thing was that these responses did nothing to diminish one's mental faculties. It was pleasant to say the very least. In fact, there wasn't much about this world that he found he didn't like. Apart from the food, the environment was serene and welcoming, and the company was . . . ideal.
Looking up from his plate, he searched the long table for her. Though she was sitting down at the other end, it was clear that she had sensed his gaze on her, her eyes rose to meet his, a warm smile on her lips. "Hi," she mouthed. He gave her a gentle nod and went back to his plate.
Dinner went by without incident; thanks, in part, to the never-ending supply of wine. All were in amiable moods. There was no talk of politics or terrorism. Quite the opposite in fact, there were copious amounts of praise for government. More than one toast, including a very kind and diplomatic one from Queen Shalla, were directed to Obi-Wan and the Jedi Order. Many also celebrated the good deeds of Chancellor Palpatine, a Noobian himself and former Galactic Senator.
Little could be heard over the commotion of so many voices conversing at the same time. But everyone could hear Padmé's giggle, clear as a bell, harmonious music rising above the din. At least that is what it sounded like to Obi-Wan Kenobi. She looked absolutely stunning this night, lit solely by the candlelight illuminating the palace's Great Hall. She was clearly enjoying this party and, for some reason, it pleased him to no end to see her so pleased.
Golden brown hair, again in the ringlets he so loved, was pulled back from the sides, affixed and adorned with pink Noobian roses, and allowed to flow down her back. A choker of small Noobian jewels, also delicate pink, was wrapped around her neck. The sheer, flowing fabric of her gown faded from that same pink down to dark burgundy, the color of wine. It was off the shoulder and cut low, separated at the waist by a silver metal band and flared out at the bottom with the aid of a small hoop.
But it was her face, an image that so intrigued him when he was still just a Padawan, which was the essence of her beauty. Dark grey and brown shadow with black liner around the rims made her eyes hard to resist; and he was tempted to lose himself. Her lips, stained with burgundy, made him long for something that he never had before, something that he knew he could never have.
She was beautifully forbidden.
It was true, Padmé was enjoying herself. Because of the position she had so recently held in Naboo's government she was on friendly terms with everyone. And it was immediately clear that everyone looked on her as a friend as well. She was truly radiant and securely in her element. But this was not the only reason for her mirth this night.
Though she would have denied it to anyone had they asked, the Noobian Senator went to great lengths to look her best tonight. She told herself that it was to impress all the dignitaries but there was only one dignitary she was interested in impressing. It was not an attempt at seduction, just the very personal need to look beautiful . . . only for him.
Though, truth be told, he almost missed seeing her. Had she taken much longer to get everything right (dress chosen, makeup done, hair styled, and correct accessories chosen to match), the doors to the Great Hall would have been sealed and Naboo's most prominent Senator, denied entrance.
Frequently stealing glances down the table at the man being honored, she suddenly realized, with some sadness, that this may be one of her last chances to spend time with him. And here they were, separated by an entire table of chatty dignitaries. It was only by chance that they were both asked to aid the Queen in the first place. Only another chance of fate would bring them together again.
The Senator was brought out of her musing by Sio Bibble, still advisor to the Queen, who apparently knew a funny joke that began "So, two Hutts slither into a Cantina . . . " Politely laughing at the end, despite the fact that she hadn't found humor in the quip at all, Padmé eagerly looked back at Obi-Wan's seat. She found it empty. The Jedi was gone.