Thank you for all the reviews! It's Valentine's Day... so how about a wedding? ;) Let me know how you like the chapter!

And Happy Valentine's Day!

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Reporters were stalking her, bodyguards were constantly posted outside her doors, and a state wedding that threatened to become a galactic spectacle loomed in the all-too-near future, but Padme was sleeping better than she had in years. She found that falling asleep with Anakin next to her - and frequently wrapped around her - was much easier than drifting off alone. She felt safe beside him, even with the lurking threat of assassination attempts (the danger Anakin frequently reminded her about), and she relaxed completely every night when Anakin finally stole away from his nearly infinite workload and appeared at her door. She was sleeping much better these days.

The same could not be said for Anakin.

"No... no..."

Padme woke suddenly, blinking in the darkness of her room. It was very late; the traffic lanes had cleared as much as they ever did, so the flash of lights beyond her windows was a trickle instead of an endless current. The moonlight cast a weak glow over the room, gilding everything in pale silver. Anakin's face was painted in the milky light, beads of sweat sparkling on his forehead. His expression was pained.

"No... Padme..."

It was the dreams again. "Anakin," she spoke very low and tried to fill her voice with warmth. "Anakin, you're dreaming. Wake up." She took his hand and rubbed it gently. He twitched and sat up violently, gasping as he woke.

She waited for the sleep to clear from his eyes before she hugged him. "Padme," he murmured, crushing his natural hand to his eyes as if he might be able to wipe away the dream by force. The distress on his face slid into her gut like the blade of a knife. She tightened her grip on his rigid form, relieved when he loosened a little and lifted his arm to her shoulders.

"I'm starting to see that these nightmares are going to be a regular occurrence. Maybe I should get you a night light," she tried, searching his face. He smiled, marginally.

"I'm not sure even my reputation could survive such a blow." He laughed at last, bringing both arms around her. "I'm sorry I woke you," he breathed into her hair.

"It's alright," she said, and meant it. "Was it the same dream?"

"Yes." His face had gone as blank and hard as a durasteel wall. Padme hated that look.

"I died?"

"Yes."

"But no specifics?"

"No. Just screaming."

Padme swallowed, a little unnerved despite the fact that she had never believed in prophetic dreams. Anakin, however, behaved as though she had been condemned and was awaiting execution.

"It was only a dream," she soothed quietly. She plucked at their sleeping Force bond until it hummed to life and expanded into the rush of warmth and emotion she needed to help him banish the darkness from his thoughts. He warmed a little at her mental touch and she felt him grow drowsy at the other end of their connection. Anakin released a weary sigh and laid back against the pillows, pulling Padme with him.

"You're right, of course," he muttered drowsily. "You always are."

"There's always the night light..." she whispered, biting back a smile.

"Will you just go to sleep?" Anakin muttered hazily as Padme laughed. He drifted off to sleep and Padme's smile fell away. She hated to see him suffering so much almost every night. The dreams were intensely real to him and she felt the echoes of his agony through their bond. It was not an experience she would wish on anyone.

She lay awake for a long while, watching Anakin's face for any sign of distress. After an hour of his peaceful breathing, her eyes began to slip shut. They are only dreams, she thought distantly. And dreams had no power over anyone - not her, not Anakin. Nightmares didn't come true.

Did they?

Anakin woke to find that his chrono alarm had been deactivated and that his wife had already left their bed. He disliked both facts.

With a groan, he sat up and tried to focus enough to glare at the sunlight streaming through Padme's bedroom windows. His commlink began to chime from the bureau against the wall, and he lifted a hand to summon it to him. A quick pull with the Force sent it smoothly sailing through the air.

Padme appeared in the doorway. "Good morn- oh no you don't!" she interrupted herself and snatched the commlink from the air before it could land in his outstretched palm. Anakin was too impressed with her quick reflexes to be irritated.

"That was impressive," he muttered begrudgingly. "But I need my commlink. What if that's the Emperor's aide calling?"

Padme glanced at the commlink. "It wasn't. And you'll get your commlink in just a moment. But first, I have to give you something."

Padme, a natural politician, had an uncanny knack for knowing precisely what to say to get someone's attention, completely disarming them in the process. In her case, Anakin was happy to be disarmed. He forgot the commlink entirely, pushed back the tangled sheets, and waited expectantly.

Padme laughed at him and produced a package from behind her back. It was thin and rectangular, long enough to require two hands to hold it, and wrapped in old brown paper. "Here," she said quietly. "It's something I've been wanting you to have."

She passed the package to Anakin; it was very light. He stared for a moment as he tried to remember the last time anyone had given him a gift. A faint memory surfaced of his mother walking through the door of their tiny home. Anakin, I found you some parts for your droid... He pushed the faded memory aside before it could become painful and focused on the box between his hands. He found the folded seams of the paper and tugged gently until they came away, revealing a plain box with a lid underneath. He lifted the lid and saw a wooden plaque settled on a cushion within. The wood was old and smooth, painted with swirls of color, yellow being the most prominent. He faintly recognized the Nubian flavor of the designs. Painted in the center of the plaque was a single sentence in flowing script:

The sorrow may last for a night, but joy comes in the morning.

"It was in my family for a long time," Padme said quietly. "It used to hang in our home. My mother sent it to me before..." she trailed off. "I thought that I would give it to you, so you can always remember that no matter how terrible the dreams are, they will pass."

Anakin was not always eloquent, so when he felt something between gratitude and passion for the woman in front of him, he gently set the box aside and stood up to embrace her. "I love you," he said simply. He felt her contentment through their bond and knew she understood all he was trying to say. "Thank you," he added for good measure.

"So you like it?" she asked, smiling.

"Yes. We should hang it up somewhere prominent so I can always see it."

"Better than a night light?" she teased with a wicked grin.

He gave a longsuffering sigh.

Anakin Skywalker was ready for his wedding day. He stood in a small antechamber outside the grandest hall in the Imperial Palace, having banished all his aides, droids, and a few brave reporters with a single glare. A collection of nobility, regional governors, politicians, and everyone wealthy and prestigious enough to buy their way into the event of the year were gathered in the hall and their murmured conversations were loud enough for him to hear even through the thick walls. Outside the Imperial Palace, an even more massive crowd had gathered in the public squares, watching a broadcast of the entire spectacle. Anakin groaned and wished the circus was over so that he might sweep his wife away for their honeymoon in peace.

The last few weeks had been difficult. His absence had been commented on in the Senate and wondered at by his personal staff because he was always slipping away to see Padme. He had absolutely no interest in what anyone said or thought, but the danger that the tabloids might seize on the fact that he was already living with Padme and drag her name through the proverbial mud caused him a great deal of stress. It would be a relief to retreat into his home with Padme in tow, barricade every entrance, and never think of reporters again. He smiled at the thought.

"Lord Vader?"

The interruption smashed against his happy imaginings like breaking glass. He struggled to control his irritation. "Yes?" he snapped.

The aide who had approached him looked frightened and swallowed once before answering. "It is almost time, My Lord."

"I am aware. Leave me. Open the door when it is time."

The aide nodded and rushed from the room. Anakin sighed. As always, the galaxy at large seemed opposed to any peace for himself and his wife. He wondered whether they could be happy in the midst of such constant pressure.

Of course, that would all depend on whether or not she lived.

Anakin squeezed his eyes shut and forced his thoughts away from the nightmare which had haunted him for weeks. Padme's screams and a sudden, horrible silence. No specific images to indicate why she had died, only the crushing sense of failure and the agony of grief. Even in the light of day, it was enough to make him wince. He couldn't help but think of the dreams that had afflicted him before his mother's death. They had been more specific, and shorter lived. He saw her suffering and in pain for a month... and then, as suddenly as they had emerged, the dreams disappeared and never returned. His mother's death had been confirmed by his spies years earlier, and he knew that she had died at the hands of Tusken Raiders - and at much the same time that the dreams had stopped. All the Tuskens had been killed at his command, but the lingering doubt and grief was far harder to purge. What if he had done something when the dreams first started? What if he could have saved her?

He clenched his fists and swore that nothing would happen to Padme. She would have bodyguards and he would use every ounce of power he possessed to protect her every moment of every day. He was much more powerful now then he had been, and it would be enough. She would live and they would be happy.

"Anakin?"

He did not realize how tightly he had clenched every muscle until her voice loosened them all; her presence always calmed the churning of his thoughts. He smiled and turned to face her. "Padme."

She was beautiful. Her gown was made of the finest spun lace that sparkled and shimmered like untouched snow. Her hair was pulled away from her face into an elaborate knot at the base of her neck, and a lacy veil studded with delicate crystals spilled from underneath and flowed all the way to the floor. She was absolutely breathtaking and for one wild moment he thought about spiriting her away before the ceremony and not coming back. If her strained expression was any indication, her thoughts were running in the same direction.

"Why are we doing this again?" she asked in a tight voice.

"Positive propaganda," he replied with a grin. "The Emperor never passes up the chance for good publicity." Padme groaned.

"Should we run for it?" he suggested lightly.

"Obviously. I thought you this was where you were keeping the getaway speeder." Her smile was subdued but genuine.

"I think that's the only thing I forgot to pack," he replied, sighing in disappointment.

Padme shook her head and laughed. "Then I suppose we'll just have to face the crowds and the journalists."

Anakin grimaced dramatically and Padme gave him a look containing no sympathy whatsoever. "It's your own fault," she chided. "You should have remembered the speeder."

He grinned and drew close to kiss her. "You're beautiful," he whispered as he drew back.

"Beautiful enough to marry twice?" Her smile lit up her face, and Anakin was glad to see the stress finally dissolve.

"Definitely," he replied.

They stood together in silence as the murmuring of the crowds within and without rumbled in the walls. Anakin was very glad they had decided to enter the hall together so that he could have her by his side. She was such a small thing, but she possessed a strength he could barely understand. He plucked at their Force bond and tried to surround her with the same feeling of warmth that she gave him.

The doors leading into the hall opened, and the wave of sound that had been rumbling in the walls suddenly flooded into the room. "My Lord and Lady," the aide said with a wavering voice. "It is time."

Padme grasped his arm. They were ready.

It was a short distance down the aisle that led to the stage, but a very, very long walk. The hall was packed with spectators on multiple levels and holocams tracked their progress, broadcasting to a possible audience of trillions of beings from the Core to the Outer Rim. Padme could almost feel the eyes on her. She resisted a shiver and focused on the wave of mental reassurance Anakin was sending her way.

The music sounded far away and Padme's vision was a little out of focus as she tried valiantly not to notice the sea of eyes around her. For a strange moment, she was immensely grateful for her time in the Nubian monarchy because walking smoothly in elaborate gowns was second nature and she didn't have to think about it. She clasped Anakin's arm tightly and finally looked at the audience, searching the section that was meant for her personal guests. There was only one person she had invited personally and only one whose attendance she cared about. In the madness of the past few days, she hadn't been able to ask him if he was coming...

She found Bail almost immediately in the reserved section. He was dressed in elaborate Alderaanian dress robes in shades of silver and blue. He smiled at her, and if he didn't look quite happy, at least he didn't look sad. Padme smiled back. His words from the last time they had spoken floated through her buzzing mind, soft as a whisper in the midst of her tense thoughts.

"Be happy, Padme," he had said. "You deserve it." Padme glanced at Anakin beside her and decided that she quite agreed. She turned her eyes forward, finally feeling a steady calm growing underneath the fluttering nerves.

The interminable march finally ended when they reached the stage where Coruscant's Chief Justice was standing, and the orchestra fell silent. The ceremony felt like it happened at lightspeed and in slow motion all at once as they exchanged vows for the second time and sealed their union publicly and legally. It was a showy ceremony punctuated with elegant musical interludes by the finest Coruscanti orchestra and flowery ceremonial speeches from the Justice. The Emperor was seated on a balcony that was raised at a similar height to the stage, surrounded by an entourage of assistants and favored governors and senators. Padme felt his gaze more keenly than then trillions of other eyes that watched her. At last, the Justice addressed the crowd a final time.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," he began solemnly. "Your Majesty," he bowed in the Emperor's direction. "I present to you: Lord and Lady Vader." He spread his hands and gestured for them to step forward. Anakin reached for her hand and they drew together and turned to face the Emperor. They were separated from his Imperial Majesty by a sea of spectators in the seats below the stage, but his yellow eyes pierced the distance without effort and Padme felt the weight of his stare. It was far too little distance for her taste.

She struggled against the leaden sensation of dread that filled her like the heavy air before an electrical storm. Palpatine smiled benignly at her and lifted his hand in a symbol of blessing that signaled the end of the ceremony. The orchestra responded immediately and music poured into the silence, quickly mingling with the cheers of the crowd. Padme was momentarily stunned by the volume and exuberance of the cheers - positive propaganda indeed.

Anakin took her arm and together they marched down the aisle in a flurry of falling flower petals and ribbons. It was finally over. Anakin's smile and the intensity of his happiness was infectious, and she absorbed a little of his warmth. By the time they were halfway down the aisle, she managed a genuine smile herself, just in time for the flock of journalists jockeying for holos and trying to elbow their way forward with recording devices primed for quotes from the happy couple. This was her life now, Padme reflected ruefully. Beside her, Anakin picked up on the drift of her thoughts and stifled a grin. He lifted an eyebrow and Padme could almost hear his voice in her mind. It's too late to back out now...

She was tempted to stick her tongue out at him, but the frantic flashing of hundreds of holocams helped her to decide against that particular photo op. Anakin smirked. Padme felt a ridiculous surge of joy in her heart as she stood in her wedding dress beside her husband, even if there were hundreds of reporters in her face. This life, she decided, could be a happy one. And for the first time in so many years, she truly believed it.

So she smiled for the cameras, and endured the endless questions and pictures... and the prickling sensation of Palpatine's gaze on the back of her neck.

A/N: The Nubian saying was adapted from Psalm 30:5 (NIV): "...weeping may stay for the night, but rejoicing comes in the morning." And there we also have the inspiration for the title. :)

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