III
Padmé and Anakin married on Naboo, eight days after the battle of Geonosis.
The ceremony was held on the terrace where Anakin had first kissed her, with only Artoo and Threepio as witnesses.
It was a spring afternoon, the flowers were blooming, and Padmé felt like her true life was going to start then.
The ten days that followed were full of love, of passion, of happiness.
Padmé and Anakin made love, swam, hiked in the sweet smelling forests, cuddled on the divan in front of the fireplace, and spared no thought for what was happening away from their little heaven.
However, it could not last.
The Republic was precipitating in that spiral of violence that would later be called the Clone Wars.
The Supreme Chancellor, invested with special powers by the Senate in order to better face the threat posed by the CIS, entrusted the command of the clone troops to the Sith and the Jedi.
Qui-Gon and Anakin were given their own battalion to lead, and thus, it was with a weary heart that the young man took leave from his new wife to join the battlefront.
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Padmé watched her husband depart from the terrace where they had gotten married, praying for his safety and wondering when they would see each other again.
She did not stay on Naboo much longer: without Anakin to make her forget it, her duty returned to call her with an insistent voice.
She moved back to Coruscant, and took an active role in the diplomatic missions constantly arranged in the hope to stop the flood of planets wanting to join the CIS.
Padmé had never been the kind of person who ducked duty when things grew harder or more dangerous. She had demonstrated it during the occupation of Naboo, and she proved it again now.
She travelled the galaxy from one planet to another, talking, discussing, coaxing, cajoling, as a brave defender of the Republic as the soldier fighting and dying on the battlefronts.
It was during one of these missions that she met Obi-Wan again for, surprisingly enough given the Sith Order's propensity for more aggressive approaches, he was getting a reputation as a first class negotiator. One that left nothing untried before recurring to the army under his command.
Padmé assisted and attended his negotiations more than once, and the respect she had always felt for him increased even more. She was sure there was no more loyal servant of the Republic than him.
As for their personal relationship, after the first, awkward moments, they had decided to behave like the seasoned diplomats they were. They talked and discussed, polite and courteous, never touching on a personal topic, even if Padmé felt Obi-Wan's pensive eyes rest on her more than once. She especially remembered one of these occasions.
It had been during a pause in the negotiations on Rekam. Someone had switched on the holonet and Padmé had almost startled when she had seen Anakin's face on the screen, a long scar marring the skin near his eye.
Aware of how she had almost betrayed herself, something very dangerous, especially in front of Jedi or Sith, she had looked around almost fearfully, feeling Obi-Wan's gaze on her.
She had tensed, fully expecting to meet an angry or reproachful glance, and instead had found no judgement, no condemnation in his calm blue-grey eyes. Just acceptance.
Obi-Wan knew—he had known from the beginning. He had the power to destroy Anakin's life, to have him expelled from the Jedi Order, for the Council would certainly take seriously his accusations, but he was not going to do anything.
And not because, as she had unfairly accused him, he was not man enough, but because…
because he was too much of a man.
Obi-Wan was too much of a gentleman, too much of a cold-headed person to commit an act that would destroy a young man's life and ruin her career for good.
This was what Padmé read in the earnest eyes that calmly held her glance, and the relief she felt translated in a smile, of gratitude, appreciation—and apology for how she had treated him.
Obi-Wan replied with just a nod, but she knew he had understood everything that had been said—or better, not said – in those brief, yet long moments.
§
As time passed, the war became even more violent and brutal, as new battlefronts opened in every corner of the Galaxy.
Padmé watched with powerless eyes as star systems fell prey to civil wars between the local loyalists and separatists parties and the Republican army was sent more and more often to resolve those fratricide conflicts.
The tool the civil population paid to the war was as high as the one the Sith and Jedi orders paid, for everyday the news arrived that some of their members had fallen.
The Sith Order was especially strained: smaller than their Jedi counterpart, it had suffered severe losses on Geonosis, and its knights were always involved in the more risky situations, for their military training was superior to the Jedi's.
As the war raged she also started to worry for the Republic itself. The Senate kept on granting special prerogatives to the Supreme Chancellor who, little by little, was centring in his hands all the powers.
Palpatine kept on reassuring the Senate he would give back the powers and resign when the war was over, but Padmé could not shake the uneasiness she felt. She had read too many political and philosophical treaties not to know how intoxicating and addictive absolute power was, and how hard it was to relinquish it once you had tasted it.
Padmé was not alone in her concerns. Bail Organa and Mon Motha shared them, and so did other senators. They had joined in a loyalist committee, which was not seen very well by Palpatine, for he believed it was blatant show of mistrust in his regards.
Anakin was not supportive of his wife's efforts and as time passed, Padmé realized how differently they looked at the Republic and its ruler.
"The Chancellor is a good man," Anakin said one evening, while he was home for a brief leave, just after being knighted. "He is doing what he thinks best for the Republic. I am glad he is being given more prerogatives, this will give him more decisional power and we will lose less time waiting for the Senate to make their mind."
"Anakin, the Senate doesn't lose time! Certain decisions that will affect billions of people cannot be made quickly and without pondering all the consequences. The group I am part of, is not against the Chancellor on a whim. We simply believe it is time we start to think about a diplomatic solution since the military intervention is not working."
Anakin just smiled, condescendingly. "I know you believe it, Angel, but diplomacy doesn't resolve everything. Certain people must be taught lessons they will never forget," he said, a hard edge in his voice.
"Is this what Qui-Gon has taught you?" Padmé asked, uneasy, as a voice inside her whispered how little she knew the man she had married.
"No, he's like you. He always wants to talk, talk, talk. He is weak, like his Sith friend Kenobi."
The lack of respect in Anakin's tone as he referred to his master and Obi-Wan made Padmé swallow hard. What had happened to make Anakin so critical, so disdainful of two men he had known and worked with for most of his life?
"Why do you say so? General Kenobi has resolved many a crisis without shooting a single missile. I think it is admirable."
"Yes, yes, of course. I should have known you were in love with "The Negotiator" as the press calls him," Anakin smirked, not noticing her sharp intake of breath at the words "in love".
Of course, Anakin had not meant them literally, but still they had made Padmé very uncomfortable.
Unwilling to ponder the reason behind her discomfort, she was more than happy to drop the matter when Anakin commented, "Let's stop talking about the war or your Senate committee, otherwise I will starting thinking you have a lover there." It was said with a playful tone, but there was something hard in his eyes as he stared at her. "My leave is brief and I don't want to waste a single moment of it."
Padmé nodded, smiled, and let him pull her against his chest and kiss her, and in the warmth of his embrace she forgot all of her concerns—at least for a while.
