How could things possibly get any worse?
Sure, he could use the Force to escape the holding cell that the Captain of Security had placed him in. He could even manipulate the guards' minds and free himself from the palace, but where would he go? He couldn't leave the planet, and it wouldn't be long before Padmé had contacted the council to tell them what he had done.
What was he thinking? They will kick him out of the Jedi Order for sure! Or else confine him to endless soul healer sessions and make him wish he were dead.
But all of that was not on the top of the list of the young knight's worries. He couldn't get the disappointed look he had seen on Padmé's face out of his mind.
Obi-Wan buried his face in his hands as he plopped himself down heavily on the cell's lone cot, its lightly padded stone surface offering little comfort. He didn't deserve comfort. He deserved to rot inside this cell. To never have the chance to look upon the face of the beautiful young queen again. He had let her down.
Obi-Wan lay back in defeat on the thin cushion, throwing his arm over his eyes in despair.
It hadn't worked after all. He must have been insane to think it would have. But Master Yoda had said...he reasoned with himself. What? A bunch of garbled words that couldn't be fit into any sentence of coherence? There was no telling what Master Yoda had told him.
Then a sudden realization occurred to the young man. He was glad. He was glad his plan hadn't worked. If things continued on as they were, he would get another chance. Another chance to prove to Padmé that he wasn't a tyrannical, ill-tempered maniac.
And as long as the Force granted him the opportunity, he would prove to her that he was trustworthy, even amiable. He would convince her of that even if it took a thousand Unity Days to do it. He wouldn't let her down again.
Obi-Wan fell asleep on the rather uncomfortable cot in his holding cell of the Theed Security Office, and awoke under the plush coverlets of his assigned palace apartment, the alarm clock blaring, and the sounds of the parade preparations on the street outside reaching his ears.
He hopped out of bed with a new outlook and goal for the day: To impress Queen Amidala and convince her to like him. For some reason, since it seemed that he was a permanent resident here, it was the only thing that mattered to him any more.
After covertly maneuvering his way through the palace in order to bypass any unnecessary and annoying greetings, the young knight presented himself to the queen, bearing two cups of hot tea to his liking. It was one of his favorite blends. He was surprised that the palace kitchens offered it, and he just knew that Padmé would appreciate it.
Upon arriving on the platform and meeting her smile, he offered her the dainty cup. "Tea? I thought it would help start your day."
Her dark eyes darted down to the steaming cup that he held out to her and then back to his face in a sincere apology. "I'm sorry. I don't drink hot tea. I prefer it cold."
"Oh." Jedi Kenobi murmured dejectedly, quickly backing away to make room for the approaching Gungan leader. He faded to the back of the grandstand and surreptitiously dumped the tea onto the nearby grass along with the cup, whose shattering was drowned out by the striking up of the Gungan band.
The next day, he offered her a glassed of iced tea, and she politely accepted it, and then sat it aside for later. At the end of the parade, when the royal staff marched out onto the street to greet the performers, Obi-Wan noticed the glass still sitting on the shelf of the wooden platform, untouched, condensation dripping down its sides.
The following day, he offered to join her for lunch, but his attempts at conversation were thwarted by the incessant blabbering of Jar-Jar Binks who sat on the other side of him.
The day after that, he followed her as she went to the celebration ball later that evening, planning on asking her to dance, but using Force-assisted hearing on the way there, he overheard the handmaidens refer to him as not only being rude, but an apparent stalker as well, and he promptly went to his room, where he stayed the rest of the evening, falling into a deep meditation in front of the windowsill, casting his irritations and his disgust into the Force.
Why was this happening to him? What was the point? He couldn't understand it. What had he ever done to deserve this punishment?
Obi-Wan continued to rage against the Force, anger threatening to consume him. Anger leads to the darkside. This he knew, and never before had the darkside loomed so closely to him.
He could give in to it. Just for a day. What would it matter? The next day he would awaken in the same place, the same situation. Dark side or not, there was nothing he could apparently do to change his future. Or should he say, lack of future.
He used to think that there could be nothing worse for a Jedi than succumbing to the dark, but now he was beginning to wonder.
As the night darkened and the moon rose high in the Naboo sky, the knight wearily slipped into bed, discouraged and beaten.
There was definitely a worse fate than living in the dark. There was this existence of nothing. This so-called non-existence he was currently experiencing. And he wasn't sure how much more of it he could take.