"Marry me, Anneke."
Her breath caught. How? It was impossible. The rules of the Jedi order had never felt so constricting. It was as if she were smothering. "Padraig—"
"I know. Jedi aren't allowed to marry." He took deep breath. "I've spoken to Chancellor Palpatine. He'll register the marriage without the Council's knowledge. They never have to know." He tightened his arms around her. "We don't know what tomorrow may bring, Anni. But I know I want to face it with you."
Today had brought pain and loss, and nearly death. Today had taught her that any day, any moment, could be her last. "And I want that too," she said softly. "Yes, I'll marry you." She slid her hands behind his neck, and pulled his head down for a kiss.
As their lips met, fire blossomed within her. Unlike the familiar fire of rage and pain that she struggled so to control, this was beautiful and felt so right. The tension drained from her muscles, and she sighed against his mouth as his arms around her waist pulled her closer. She had never thought that this could be, and it was as if a weight had lifted off her soul.
She slid her hands up into his hair, threading her fingers through the strands, and felt him shudder against her. The fire in her veins intensified, melting her bones.
He lifted his head, and stared at her, his breath ragged. "Gods," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "I don't want to wait another day. If I can find a holyman who is free tonight, will you marry me today?"
Not trusting her voice, she nodded.
Lanterns glowed at intervals along the balustrade, their soft light a barrier against the darkness. Anneke stepped out onto the terrace. The unfamiliar swish of skirts around her ankles and the softness of the fabric against her skin made her feel as if she were dreaming.
When she had made an offhand comment that she had nothing nicer to wear than her Jedi robes, Padraig had suggested that she look through his sister's closet. Most of Sola's dresses were much too elaborate for Anneke's tastes, but this one had caught her attention as soon as she spotted it. It was all cream lace and flowing ribbons; the intricately embroidered bodice and flowing lacy sleeves showed a lot more skin than she would have ever dreamed of showing. On Tatooine, exposed skin invited sunburn, and Jedi robes were practically prudish.
She had never worn a dress before, had never thought she would, but this was her wedding and a dress was traditional on Naboo. It made her feel more feminine than she had ever felt before, but she missed the comforting weight of her lightsaber at her hip. Dresses were made with beauty, not practicality, in mind.
Padraig stood beside the holyman at the balustrade, under the arch of a bending tree. He had changed as well, into a cream tunic over pants the soft blue of the Naboo sky. He smiled at her as she approached, and she blushed at the look in his eyes.
Taking his hand, she stepped forward into her future.