Part 26: The Storm Upon The Outskirts.
When Obi-Wan woke the next morning it took only the sight of the woman in his arms to bring everything about himself into clarity. For a moment he just stared at her, not thinking of anything, then he tore his gaze away to settle on the window, where through the mesh curtains he could see the Nubian sun slowly emerging above the horizon.
It had been several days since he had taken a moment to pause and reflect on everything that happened recently. Geonosis and the consequences for the Republic aside, his life was about to change forever. Yesterday he experienced something he had never known; family life. To ascribe the same word to the Order was to assign a difference to the concept. Jedi were mostly monastic, their only companion, only attachment, was the Force. They were raised from a young age to respect their comrades, justice, morals, truth, and the Force, but they were not taught to regard such things as constant, as he witnessed most families doing so.
Everything fades in time, he had said as much to Anakin only days ago. Yet, he realised now that he had been wrong, for there was one thing about his life which had never faded, his love for Padmé. From the moment he realised his feelings for her, the emotion was set deep inside himself, never to degrade. He was aware of what the code taught him about emotions, but this love somehow went beyond such connotations. The closest thing he could ascribe it to was the Force, for once he was aware of it, the being had never left him.
Like the woman he held in his arms, the Force would change, as he would change, adapting to new skills, to new events, warning him of the approaching storm he would soon be swept up in, but it would remain, always within him. To love Padmé was the same as saying he was a Jedi; the feeling defined him as surely as the Order once had. He knew what could happen to her, the dangers she was in, not only as leader of the opposition, but also as a senator, and as a woman. To deny that he would not fear these outcomes was to deny that love, yet he also knew that he was not all powerful, that there were things he could not fix. Loosing her was something he could not prevent, for she was not his to loose. She was her own person, who chose to love him, and for that he would always be grateful.
He had not realised until recently, that Qui-Gon taught him a valuable lesson aboard the Trade Federation ship ten years ago. He was mindful of the future, but not at the expense of the present. To really love someone was to savour every moment spent with them, good or bad. Fearing what the future would do to them would destroy that love, which would never die, even if the person did.
Padmé shifted minutely in her sleep, causing his gaze to switch from the sunrise back to her. The knowledge that she returned his affection still possessed the ability to astound him, even now. She could have anyone, yet she had chosen to share her life with him, fully understanding the hardships they would endure, the separation rendered by their duties in the Republic. The perception with which everyone who did not know them would view and judge their union through.
Marriage within the Jedi on Coruscant was rarely acknowledged. Master Ki-Adi-Mundi had four wives due to the customs of his endangered race, but neither they or his children ever visited the Core. A union of Jedi and Senator would be a very public sight, however discreet he and Padmé endeavoured to be. But perhaps it would challenge the current perception of the Republic, the distant regard with which Jedi and Senators were held. Or those within the Order who still regarded marriage as an incompatible concept would come to see that the benefits far outweighed the change to one's previously solitary existence. Whatever happened, they would accept it, never letting the judgement and opinions affect them, for they were who they were, nothing could change that.
For him, love had never been as alien as perhaps it was to the rest of the Order. Qui-Gon was an unconventional Master, outwardly stern and distant, a hard taskmaster, but in their private moments, he was the closest person to being a father that Obi-Wan had ever known. Their beginning may have been rocky, uncertain in the wake of Bandomeer, and when they endured a bad time after the events of Melida/Daan, but the regard had never faded.
Qui-Gon taught him the value of love after that crisis when he returned to the Order, a conversation which ultimately set him apart from every other Jedi, which made him unconventional, but still highly respected in an Order slow to change. While he acknowledged it, he never took it for granted, nor let affect who he was, for such arrogance was never in his nature. Love gave him Qui-Gon and Padmé, he knew their worth, and he would be forever grateful for it. The relationship he had with his master he had tried to pass on when he trained Anakin, but for some reason or another, it never quite truly worked. Anakin was a brother, a comrade, not a son.
Now there was a very real possibility that he would become a father as well as a husband. During their talks over the comm, he had come to learn of Padmé's desire to have a family, a notion as inherent to her as her service to Naboo and the Republic. It was something which he had never expected, nor loath or desired, simply because until Padmé came into his life, the possibility had never occurred to him. He was familiar with children, it was hard not to be in the Order, for the Jedi encouraged everyone to establish a healthy rapport with every living creature within the universe, making sure each Jedi volunteered in every part of Temple and field life, from crèche to grave. Still, he could not deny that a part of him was unsure how he would deal with his own.
The difficult moments in his relationship with Anakin, notably his failure to teach him to realise his full potential weighed upon his mind, even as Yoda declared the boy ready to take the Trials. He recalled how Qui-Gon had taken the news of Anakin's actions on Tatooine after the death of his mother. Apparently the wave of dark emotions had been felt by him and Master Yoda. Yet, while they agreed it was something to be concerned about, the act was not a barrier to Anakin's knighthood, after the Order had lost so many on Geonosis. Obi-Wan wished he could ask Anakin about the matter, but unless the boy admitted it, he would be invading his privacy, and the query would undoubtedly damage their relationship.
He was still unsure that Anakin was ready for the Trials, the boy could still be an enigma at times, unable to conceal his emotion, to discipline himself, to lose his recklessness. But then he had been like that during the last year of his padawnship, and he had never lost someone as close to him as Anakin had, so he could not judge the boy unready because of a such a dark act. Ultimately it was something he would have to monitor, from his position on the Council.
The Council. It was an honour which he had never looked for, an ambition which he had never possessed. When he thought of all the Masters within the Order, all those upon the Council, he did not imagine himself to be on par with their wisdom or their skill. At his core he was simple knight, a servant of the Republic, a man, nothing more. Yet, just as Qui-Gon had asked him to train Anakin and he pledged to do so, the Council asked, and he would obey, taking the office they presented before him. As he would serve in the war which the Republic was plunged into now.
He could not help but display a grimace at the thought of it. Aggressive negotiations were the last resort in the Order, despite all the preparation undertaken in learning lightsaber skills. Too lately combat had become the norm in carrying out justice for the Republic, the first solution instead of the last. Now he knew that someone had planned for this ten years ago, and the deception chilled him. The timing was all too convenient, the prime suspect all too obvious to be key in this complex web. Strands were missing, evidence they badly need to prove to a blinded Republic the truth. Evidence which would have to be gathered, which would take time, and he doubted that there would be enough.
A stirring in the Force caused him to realise that Padmé was close to waking. For the first time a doubt concerning their actions occurred to him. Was it really wise to marry while the Republic was sliding into the war, while the darkness beckoned towards them from the horizon? Logic told him to protect her by delaying this union once more, yet he could not find the will within himself to do so. If now was too late, then so was a decade ago, when they had just begun to love each other. To delay would be to misunderstand Qui-Gon's advice aboard the Trade Federation ship. Together they would be mindful of the dark future that was to come, but not at the expense of the moment.
"You're thinking," she murmured, her brown eyes blinking as they adjusted to the light of the dawn streaming into the room.
The oddity of her greeting made him smile. "A dreadful habit of mine. Something you'll have to remind me not to do, milady."
Now it was her turn to smile. "I thought we were beyond titles, Master Jedi."
"Milady is one title you will never loose," he answered, looking at her steadily. "There's always been something about you which demands that term to spring forth, no matter what disguise you wear."
Padmé laughed. "But there's never been a disguise when I'm with you, Obi-Wan. Easiness, comfort, safety, above all love, but never masks. I remember thinking after I first saw you glance at me in the grounds of the Palace all those years ago. That one look laid open my soul, and there was no going back." She turned, causing him to still, reminding himself to breathe as she adjusted her pose in his arms. "Now, I worry that you have begun to doubt that we should do this."
He bowed his head, accepting the truth in her memory and her words. But he would not lie, he never could, to her. "I did doubt that we should be doing this. But what we found out on Kamino has made me realise it is too late for doubts."
She nodded. "It was always too late." Her hand brushed his chin, returning his pupils to her own. "But I don't want to spend another decade of just snatched conversations, never knowing when, or if, we can see each other again. I want the memory of this," she kissed him, the depth and power in such a brief touch surprising him, "to sustain those absences, to sustain the certainty that whatever happens you will always return."
"I can't promise that, my love," he reminded her gently. "I'm not all powerful. No one in this universe is, not even the Force. Everything fades, even the stars burn out."
To hear him repeat the words she said to Anakin back in the cells on Geonosis convinced her that she had made the right choice, not that there had ever such an option for her heart in the first place. "I know, yet I cannot shake that certainty from myself. In some shape or form, you have always been there."
Obi-Wan's reply was just as sincere. "As have you."
"How can you be so calm?" Sola asked as she carefully shook the folds from the veil before placing the garment upon her sister's head.
Padmé let her hand caress the material, another smile gracing her face. "I just am. Weren't you when you married Darred?"
Sola shook her head. "No, and well you know it. I was a nervous wreck."
Her sibling smiled as she recalled that occasion. "I thought that was because you were worried the journalists would discover my presence there and blast the ceremony across the HoloNet."
"That scenario never even crossed my mind," Sola replied, to which her sister just smiled again, infuriating her all the more. "Please, tell me. Is it him? Has he used a Jedi mind trick on you?"
"No, that only works on the weak minded," Padmé explained. "But yes, it is him. I knew this day would come, from the moment we first came to know each other. I may not have imagined the ceremony or the length of time, but I knew our lives would unite like this." She sighed as Sola frowned. "I'm probably not making myself clear. His love calms me. It is as simple as that."
"Well, at least there is one calm in your life," Sola remarked as she secured the final pin and stepped away. "There, finished."
Padmé rose from her seat to survey the dress and veil in a full length mirror. This gown was part of Naberrie heritage, worn by every bride within the family. Some day it would be Ryoo who stood here, and Pooja, and her own children, in the dressing room of the house in the Lake Country, not far from the balcony where her knight was waiting for her. Recalling the words he uttered to her only this morning, the last time she was able to speak with him freely before they were swept away into a whirlwind of traditions for this short, yet life changing ritual, she knew that her wish for her children, even for her nieces to wear this gown was just that in the face of the approaching darkness.
Learning Jedi philosophy however was easier than living by it, something else he had once said to her, when he was only a little older than she was now, attempting to comfort her after she heard the forged transmission concerning the fate of her invaded homeworld, sent in an effort to trace her. Yet, she could not help feeling the truth in her reply to him, for she did feel the certainty of their survival with him, that their love would remain, even when the stars burned out. Her hand went to the piece of jewellery around her neck, the gift from Obi-Wan while they wandered through Mos Espa. The gemstones complimented the gown beautifully, almost as if the necklace was intended to be worn with it.
"It is time," her father said and she turned to face him, walking away from the mirrors to stand beside him. She saw the tears in his eyes, the myriad of emotions he felt in giving her away, without needing him to say a word.
Keeping her own silence, she squeezed the hand which reached out for hers, the look she returned him just as eloquent as his own, before they exited the room, to walk the short distance to balcony, where she would face her light in the darkness.
Obi-Wan felt her brief pause upon the threshold, and he turned, meeting her gaze. He did not need confirmation from the Force that this was right, that everything in his life had prepared him for this moment, he knew it already. Behind and before him, the holy man, friends and family invited to attend, faded from his vision, even from his ability to sense them through the Force, leaving only her, vivid in the detail. Yet he could find nothing with which to describe her appearance, even beautiful was an inadequate word. He felt certain that in years to come he would recall the way the lace clung to her skin, the way the veil crowned her hair, the simplicity and the purity which her whole form always seemed to convey. And he would call her beautiful, say that he loves her, but these words would never hope to convey all of his feelings, none ever could.
She joined him within moments, her father placing the slender smooth hand he held in his callused one, hardened by frequent lightsaber use. Her bowed head gazed upon that union, then rose to meet his blue eyes with her brown ones, as they waited patiently for the holy man before them to solemnise another joining, the ritual confirmation of what their instincts told them a long time ago.
Their ears heard the words of the priest, their minds understood the symbolic meaning behind them, yet somehow, their souls were not there to register them. Instead they were upon the stone floor within the memory of that balcony, as she recalled it ten years ago when he first described to her the nature of the Force. Where everything from themselves to the flowers which crested the trellises, to the stone panelling upon the ground, to the clouds within the sky, glowed in a halo of light. When he had taken her in his arms, and with a voice soft by her ear uttered, "See that storm upon the outskirts?"
Padmé turned, not towards the sky, but to the empty chairs signifying the guests present at their union. Yet they were not empty. Masters Windu, Jinn and Yoda were in three, not far from where they stood. And further back was Anakin, solemn and grave, trying to be happy for the woman he claimed to love, but failing abysmally, for across his face there was displayed a mixture of emotions, none of them good.
Even further back stood another figure, his features cowled from her vision, yet her mind told her that she knew him, whispering a name she refused to accept, for now. A dark cloud surrounded his form, blue lightning crackled across his figure, the sound unbearably loud, breaking the comfortable peace between them.
"So this is how liberty dies," she heard herself say, "with thunderous applause."
"Padmé," Obi-Wan uttered, and she turned to face him. "Everything fades. Even the stars burn out. The dark is generous and it is patient and it always wins, but in the heart of its strength lies its weakness: one lone candle is enough to hold it back. And love is more than a candle. Love can ignite the stars."
Behind them the lightning crackled, breaking into shards of bright, blinding light.