this is a disclaimer.

far fairer world encompassing

Padmé Amidala allowed herself few personal luxuries in her life. Aside from the opulence expected of a Galactic Senator, there was a monthly massage at one of the most well-known spas on Coruscant, and her husband; that was all.

It was about to change.

She was standing in the living room of her penthouse, looking down at the low table in front of her, which was piled high with sweets. The late evening sunshine was falling across it, striking interesting glints from the wrappers and making her wonder if she should be worried any of the contents were going to melt.

Well, if they did, she'd get more. The question was, which one did she want? Rock, chocolate, caramel, crystallized fruits, half a dozen more exotic sweets from across the galaxy. The selection was worthy of the most exclusive Coruscant confectionery (and had, in fact, been collected there), but she couldn't see any that took her fancy.

"Decisions, decisions," she said to herself, stroking her belly. "What do you think, little one?"

The baby didn't answer - not even the tiniest shift that could be construed as a reply.

Padmé sighed. "I'm disappointed in you, Luke," she informed her son. "After all, it's your fault I'm having cravings. The least you could do is let me know what you're making me have cravings for."

Still nothing. Then, behind her, there was a soft footfall; Padmé turned into her husband's arms with a cry of delight.

"Ani, you're here- hmmm."

"Sorry," Anakin said when they drew apart. "It was either kiss you now or go crazy. Every time I've stopped today all my thoughts go straight to you. It's been most... distracting."

"Serves you right," Padmé said contentedly. "I spent all morning absolutely dying of frustration that you weren't here. Apparently pregnancy hormones dump my mind in the gutter."

Something predatory sparked in his blue eyes; his hands slid from her shoulders down her back to her hips and tugged her gently closer. "I can still do something about that."

"The gutter?" she whispered against his lips.

"The pregnancy hormones."

"They're your fault in the first place," she mumured as his mouth ghosted over her jaw, as his nose nudged her head back and his lips began to move down her neck.

He grinned against her pulse point. "Not five minutes ago you were blaming it on the baby," he said. "By the way, would you please stop calling my daughter Luke?"

"When you stop addressing your son as Leia," Padmé giggled. "Don't think I didn't hear you saying goodbye to my stomach yesterday." Anakin bit at her chin in retaliation and then kissed her deeply again, one arm coming up behind her shoulders.

"I can't wait for the look on your face when it turns out I'm right."

She laughed at him, tucking her head under his chin and breathing in the leather-ozone-mint-musk smell of him: clean and warm and entirely hers.

"Which sweetshop did you buy, anyway?"

"Oh, a couple," she said evasively. If she told him she'd got Dormé to go to Forn'ja's for her, he'd get that pinched look of his and change the subject. In his opinion, food just shouldn't be that expensive.

"And what for?"

Padmé sighed. "I was having cravings," she said. "But by the time the sweets actually got here, I found I had no idea what I actually wanted anymore."

Anakin eyed the miniature sweetshop on the table with a thoughtful look. "Be a shame to let them go to was- ohhh, you've got Kyrithian sweetmeats?" He let her go and made a drive for the table, coming up with a brown flimsi bag twisted elaborately and tied with short thin ribbons.

"Kyrithian sweetmeats?" Padmé repeated.

He nodded. "Yeah, they're a sweet from a town back home, Kyrithra. Mostly a kind of caramel, I think - cheap, but not even my Mom knew the recipe. You can get them everywhere on Tatooine, but they're expensive to store for more than a couple weeks, and there's the Hutts and their 'taxes' to think of, so you don't often see them out here. Seems that's all it takes for you Coreworlders to declare something a planetary speciality," he added with a laugh.

"Kyrithian sweetmeats," Padmé repeated, taking the bag off him and ripping it open. Sugar-frosted cubes fell out onto her palm in various shades of brown and cream; Anakin picked one up and sucked it with a blissful smile.

"Mmmmh. Delicious."

Padmé nibbled at hers, curious, and then her eyes widened. "Oh, wow." Sweet but tangy, soft and sticky and chewy - Anakin was right, they were delicious. "Don't go anywhere, just let me order a refrigerator full."

"Refrigerator!" Anakin looked horrified. "No, no, no, no, no. You keep them in the shade, sure, but they're best warm and half-melted, so that you have to lick half the sweet off your fingers before you've got it out of the wrapping."

Padmé laughed at him. "Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"You really love these."

"They're my favourites."

She twitched the packet in her hand a little, glanced down at it. Sure enough, the price tag was horrendous.

She didn't remember these from their time on Tatooine when Shmi had died, so there was a good chance he hadn't had any since he was a child.

Padmé nodded. "All right then. Pick a good corner in the kitchen. From now on, we have Kyrithian sweetmeats in the house."

Anakin laughed and kissed her once more, rather stickily, and when he made to draw away she brought her hand up and pressed another sweetmeat to his lips. He drew it into his mouth, kissing her fingertips as he did so, and she pushed him firmly back onto the couch and settled into his lap so she could feed him the rest of the bag, fingers wet with his saliva and coated in sugar. Piece by piece, Padmé watched him wrap those full lips around the sweets, chew and swallow, her knuckles brushing against his jaw. His eyes were fixed on her, dark and intense, making her shiver: excitement, anticipation.

There were dark hollows underneath them and lines of tension at their corners, she realised suddenly, with a chill that had nothing to do with sweetmeats or the look in his eyes.

But she doubted there was anything she could do to smooth them away that she wasn't already: love him, and take care of him, and find a way to give him all the little things in life that were good, and that he'd spent so long without.

Like Kyrithian sweetmeats.

"What about your cravings?" Anakin asked huskily, hands spanning her hips, the small of her back.

She leaned forwards and licked the taste of his favourite sweets from his lips, bumped her nose against his gently. "I like seeing you happy more."

"Well, there's a quandary. I like seeing you happy."

"Seeing you happy makes me happy."

"Don't complicate this unneccessarily," he teased, breath warm on her cheek, smelling of sugar and sunlight and home and happiness.

Padmé slid her sugar-free left hand into his hair and leaned forward to kiss his chin and blaze a trail from there to his left ear. "Take me to bed, Anakin," she whispered. "Make love with me. Is that... uncomplicated... enough?"

Anakin sighed, mock-suffering. "You do make the most unreasonable demands of me, milady," he said, sliding an arm under her knees and lifting her easily as he stood up.

He'd lift their child with the same thoughtless grace, she thought as he carried her into their bedroom.

Not long now.