Festival
Part II

The chrono on the nightstand read just after 0940 when Padmé awoke. She blinked blearily at the blue readout a few times before realizing its fastidious silence.

"Kriff!" she whispered, sitting up suddenly. She winced as Anakin's arm flopped to the bed from where it had been wrapped around her waist, but her husband was so far gone to sleep, the movement did not even rouse him in the slightest. Her panic easing somewhat, she pressed a quick kiss to his temple and slid out from under the covers.

Padding quietly around her old bedroom, Padmé slipped out of her nightgown and rummaged through the closet for something suitably warm and comfortable. She settled on a woolen burgundy tunic and black leggings, checking her image in the mirror and deciding the attire to be acceptable.

Her datapad lay on the dresser, its indicator light glowing softly to report its return to full charge. Sighing, she sat down and powered it on, deciding that only a few minutes on galactic affairs wouldn't add to her tardiness any more than oversleeping already had. She worked delicately through several knots in her curls as she skimmed the most recent memos, delving into the news that seemed the most pressing.

Bail Organa had thoughtfully forwarded her detailed notes from the last Security Council's intelligence briefing. She keyed in the necessary access code for the encrypted message, and quickly scanned the document as it unscrambled before her eyes. There had been several intercepted Separatist correspondences in the Kastolar Sector, most of which were fleet position chatter and status updates, but one particular line of code seemed to indicate an intended rendezvous point near Bothawui. The Council had decided to consider this with high priority, immediately increasing the threat level to surrounding systems through appropriate GAR channels. The briefing had ended with an agreement to consult the Jedi for their input and possible further investigation into the Separatist's chatter.

Heart thudding precipitously, Padmé laid down her brush and turned in her seat to eye the Jedi soundly asleep in her bed. While she usually didn't like to dwell on the war and their involvement in it during these stolen moments, she wondered if Anakin was aware of the chatter, or could help her with his Jedi insight if she shared the briefing notes with him.

Frowning to herself, she rose and straightened her tunic unnecessarily. Then again, if Anakin hadn't been briefed, he was highly unlikely to keep the information to himself despite his best intentions, and they both really didn't need anyone drawing any unnecessary connections between them.

Shivering at the thought, she decided to put the report from her mind and powered off the datapad. With one last glance at Anakin, she quickly and quietly stole out of the room.

"Sleep well?" Sola asked, as casually as possible when Padmé all but skidded into the kitchen.

Padmé's eyes flashed once over at her sister's back as she poured herself a mug of caf. Her expression and voice remained resolutely neutral.

"Yes, sorry for oversleeping. I'll clean up the dishes as my penance," Padmé replied, blowing gently at the steam rising from her drink.

Sola raised a shoulder in swift acknowledgement. "Don't fret, I already started them." She held up a glisteningly clean tray for proof. "I can't say I blame you. You looked particularly cozy."

Padmé spluttered on her caf. The hot liquid spilled over her fingers and she dropped the mug, clutching her burned hand to her chest.

For a brief second, the women all tensed, waiting for the inevitable crash of ceramic on the stone floor. But none was forthcoming. Instead, the mug halted inches from the floor, righted itself, before floating up to hover in front of Padmé. They all turned in unison to stare at the perpetrator.

Anakin smiled guiltily under their combined scrutiny.

Jobal was the first to move, coming to sop up the small spill with a hand towel. As she straightened, she patted Anakin's cheek with motherly affection and said, "Thank you, Anakin. Can I get you something?"

"Ah, thank you," he answered, noticing his apparent interruption. "Caf would be great."

Padmé didn't see him pull up a chair next to hers – her attention was solely back on Sola – scrutinizing her earlier remark and subsequent expression. Sola stared back gamely, and Anakin tried to join in the conversation he had walked into with an innocent question.

"Who looked 'particularly cozy'?"

Sola dropped her stare-down with her sister, grinning at Anakin widely. "Padmé," she said. "I went to get her up since she so wanted to help with the chee-chee berry bread this morning, but she was dead to the world."

Anakin's tan skin paled and Sola noted the ways his eyes flicked earnestly to Padmé in a mild panic. But Padmé was staring daggers at her, though she could see the seasoned politician in her sister working hard to not cause a scene in front of their mother. Retrieving her mug from where it still hovered next to her hand, she shot Sola that age-old sibling look of we are not done here! before smoothly changing the topic of discussion.

"Mom, is there anything else you need from the market?" she asked. "I think Sola and I were heading there after breakfast, weren't we?" She directed that last question at her sibling with just a hint of menace.

Sola grinned mischievously, and with an almost too-innocent tone, asked, "Anakin? Would you care to join us?"

Anakin, still not fully recovered from Sola's goading comment, swallowed hard. His eyes sought out Padmé's desperately. She gave him an almost imperceptible nod, as Jobal set a plate of eggs and toast in front of them.

"If I don't hold you up," he gestured at his newly acquired breakfast.

"Eat fast," Sola smiled, shooting him a little wink.

Padmé scowled as Anakin tucked in.

It only took them a few minutes after the dishes were cleared and cleaned to organize for the late morning foray to Theed's central marketplace. Anakin was indeed interested in exploring the city's festivities with his wife, but steeled himself for the coming sibling squabble. While he had been an only child on Tatooine without brothers or sisters to argue with, he had done plenty of quarreling with fellow Padawans in his more formative years at the Temple. That, and he was fairly certain he would have been able to sense Padmé's whirling consternation over the morning's breakfast conversation even if he were Force blind.

And he did wonder about her dismay, considering he was pretty sure she intended to reveal their marriage anyway. His only explanation was that this didn't really have anything to do with revealing them, so much as it had been Sola's intrusion into Padmé's privacy. But he wasn't going to volunteer himself as a negotiator. He would be the quiet solid supportive presence a wife needed from her husband and let the events play out in their own way.

Fortunately for Anakin, Sola wasn't going to drag out the inevitable confrontation. They were all barely a few feet down the narrow side street of the Naberrie's neighborhood when she dove right in without preamble.

"So how long have you two been going on?" she asked, gesturing between her two companions with a mittened hand.

Padmé stopped in her tracks, her arms crossing deliberately over her chest.

"So tell me, did Mom send you to get me up, or did you just invite yourself in the way you always do?"

"Answer my question, Padmé. Deflection doesn't work on me."

Padmé narrowed her eyes, her fingers tapping her upper arm in rapid rhythm. Anakin swallowed. Despite their short relationship, he could correctly identify that behavior as clear evidence of her agitation – usually directed at him.

"All right, then," Sola said, when it was clear no answer was forthcoming. Unexpectedly, she turned to him. "Anakin, how long have you been doing my sister?"

Anakin blanched at the same time Padmé stomped her foot furiously.

"Sola!"

"Why are you trying to deny this?"

"I'm not trying to…"

"Oh you're not?" Sola retorted, incredulous. "Then tell me, little Sis, what exactly were you doing sleeping next to a Jedi Knight, hmmm?"

"Keep your voice down," Padmé ground out through gritted teeth.

The trio stood at a tense impasse as an elderly couple shuffled slowly past them. Thankfully, Anakin didn't think they had overheard the heated discussion. Padmé started, like she intended to speak, but closed her mouth, her small fingers moving to press into her temple, as she blew out a steadying breath.

Sola sighed heavily, clearly frustrated with the direction of the conversation. But she wasn't unkind – Anakin could feel her concern for Padmé in the Force – and likely knew she may have pushed too hard too fast.

"I wasn't trying to intrude this morning," Sola explained softly, extending the first olive branch. She reached out to touch Padmé's shoulder. "I had no reason to know I would stumble into something private and clearly special, and I'm sorry for teasing you in front of Mom when you had no way to defend yourself. I'm just…" She shrugged a little, unable to stop the smile spreading across her face. "Oh, Mé-Mé, I'm so excited for you!"

Padmé looked up then, somewhat startled at the sudden change in her sister's tone, but before she could find her voice, Anakin finally spoke.

"Six months."

The two women turned to look at him with twin quizzical expressions.

"I've been… well, er… "Anakin grimaced, recalling Sola's eloquently crude phrasing. He flushed crimson, but bravely cleared his throat. "Six months… two weeks, and five days."

Padmé gaped at him, and for a moment Anakin thought she was going to turn her wrath on him. Instead, she offered him a sincerely shocked smile and her hard posture relaxed, her arms falling to her sides.

"Anakin," she said, somewhat thickly. Her brown eyes glittered suddenly with all the emotion of the past hour. Then grasping his hand – his flesh hand – she turned to Sola and squared her shoulders, her expression serious.

"I was going to do this in front of everyone tomorrow during the gift exchange," Padmé started, eyeing Anakin for his consent. He squeezed her fingers once in acknowledgement. "But since we are here…" Her voice trailed off, becoming lost in the most radiant smile Anakin had ever seen. "Anakin and I have been married for six months, two weeks and five days."

Sola's jaw dropped. Her eyes flicked back and forth between Padmé and Anakin multiple times, before her own mouth twisted into a perfectly stupid smile as the words sunk in.

"What?!" she shrieked with glee. "Padmé!" Without a second thought, she pulled her little sister into a smothering hug. Anakin stepped back to give them some room, but Sola caught his retreat and held up a finger at him. "Ah, ah, you're getting one too," she said over Padmé's shoulder. With one last squeeze, she relinquished her sister and stepped towards him with open arms, smiling warmly. "Welcome to the family, Anakin."

Not used to such open displays of affection – especially from his newly anointed sister-in-law – Anakin let Sola engulf him before settling his arms around her somewhat awkwardly. Sensing his unease, Padmé winked at him and then cleared her throat primly, when the hug lingered maybe a little longer than was absolutely necessary.

Stepping back, Sola released him and clasped Padmé's hands in her own. Neither of the women could wipe the smiles off of their faces.

"So, tell me about it!" Sola said, tucking Padmé's arm in her own. Anakin fell into comfortable step beside them, as she led them back on their original path towards the center of Theed.

"What do you want to know?" Padmé asked.

"Everything, Sis! The dress! How it all happened! Who asked who?" Sola listed. She paused considering, the mischievous glint returning to her eye. "The wedding night," she drawled, suggestively.

Padmé laughed, though her cheeks were tinged pinker than from perhaps just the cold.

"You've seen the dress that was commissioned for me. I think you realize some things with sudden clarity when you are facing an imminent death sentence. Ummm, both of us, I guess…" she replied, ticking Sola's queries off on her fingers. She looked to Anakin for help with the last answer – he shrugged and nodded noncommittally, agreeing that it was more a mutual decision and not a traditional proposal—and then Padmé glared at Sola. "And absolutely not."

Sola pouted. "Oh, come on, Mé-Mé," she whined. "Just one teensy little detail?"

Padmé narrowed her eyes, and Sola took this as tacit allowance.

"Did he use the Force?" she whispered conspiratorially, but conveniently loud enough for Anakin to hear.

"Sola!" Padmé gasped, completely scandalized. Her face flushed violently red. She saw her sister raise her eyes hopefully in Anakin's direction, and immediately whipped a warning look at him. "Don't you dare!" she growled.

Anakin held out his hands placatingly, but his barely contained grin and own reddening face were all the confirmation Sola needed. That, and the surreptitious wink he gave her over Padmé's shaking head.

"Oh, I knew I liked you," Sola said cheekily.

Padmé groaned and rolled her eyes dramatically earning a hearty laugh from Sola that echoed down the small side street as they stepped out onto the main thoroughfare.

Every time Anakin laid eyes on Theed Grand Plaza, he swore it was more beautiful than the last. The snowfall from overnight coated the covered stalls of the holiday marketplace in a light layer of white, a sharp but pleasing contrast to the brightly colored awnings. People bustled all around, eyeing the various trinkets and wares for sale, almost everyone wearing jovial smiles in addition to several layers against the chilly air.

Despite having just eaten breakfast, Anakin's stomach growled loudly as they passed a stand that smelled of warm spices and sweetness. He stopped momentarily to watch the vendor, an older gentleman with graying hair and a kind face, tossing what appeared to be nuts over a large iron skillet with an oversize spatula.

"Do you want some?" Padmé asked, noticing his interest and coming to stand at his side. She had pulled up her hood upon entering the square, but she slid it back down with her back to the crowd.

"What are they? They smell amazing," Anakin said.

"They're candied fignuts," Padmé explained.

She studied him, his entrancement and wonder conjuring images of the sandy-haired little boy who held her hand in the desert and smiled like sunshine.

The vendor noticed his audience and came over to wait on them.

"How can I help you?"

Anakin blinked, and shook his head to politely decline, but Padmé placed a hand on his forearm and smiled warmly at the vendor.

"We'd like an order to go," she said, "and two, no three, of the gift boxes please."

"I really don't…"

"Hush, Ani," Padmé cut him off gently. "I needed to get some for my father and nieces anyway."

The vendor handed her a paper cup filled with steaming fignuts, and set about boxing another three orders. Padmé popped a fignut into her mouth, chewing quickly and carefully around the warm treat, before handing the rest to Anakin.

"Go on," she said, smiling at his dubious glance. "Try one!"

Eyeing the purplish glazed nuts, Anakin bravely followed her lead, a satisfied smile coming to his face as he sampled one. Not as hard in texture as he expected, the fignut seemed to melt on his tongue, its sticky coating simultaneously sweet and warm and savory.

"Those are delicious!" he said, boldly eating a small handful all at once. "Ohhh, and hot!" He covered his mouth with his free hand, trying to roll the candied fignuts away from the more delicate areas of his cheeks and tongue.

Padmé laughed, not unkindly, as she paid the vendor and traded Anakin the gift boxes for the paper cup.

"What a shame," she said, walking along the temporary aisle to the next stall. "The Chosen One felled yet again by another Nabooian sweet treat. So much for prophecy…"

Anakin glared at her, then smirked devilishly. "Sweet treat, huh? Nah, I think I like 'angel' better."

Padmé flushed, rolling her eyes. She didn't have time to retort when she realized what set of shops they had come upon.

"Oh, Ani, look!"

The next several stalls they wandered by hosted the wares of Naboo's famous glass artisans. Anakin stared in wonder at the intricate and beautifully crafted sculptures laid out along the tables for viewing. He remembered Padmé describing the glass art to him, and while he had clearly heard the enchantment in her recollections, he had been more enchanted with her at the time. As he viewed an array of work – tiny animal and floral figurines to more sweeping abstract statues – Anakin found himself mesmerized by the craftmanship and beauty before him.

Stopping at one stand, he bent closer to admire a freeform sculpture that seemed to capture the essence of a wave crashing against some unseen rock. The way the glass twisted and bent defied the very principles of gravity. The more he stared at the deep blues and greens, the more the glass seemed to shift and dance before his very eyes.

"How does it do that?" he whispered softly, shaking his head to clear his vision. For a moment, the whole sculpture appeared to move, and Anakin took a bracing step backward, as if waiting for the water to splash onto the table in front of him.

"How does it do what?" Padmé said, leaning in close as he bent to study the structure.

"It looks like it moves," Anakin said.

"I told you it does that," she said, smiling sideways at him. Anakin didn't respond, still staring at the water sculpture with utter fascination. "Do you like it?"

He nodded, still completely mesmerized.

"It's beautiful."

Padmé stood up, raising a mittened hand. "Excuse me." The young woman, Anakin presumed the artist, walked over proudly, but also a little shyly. "How much for this one?"

"Four hundred," the artist said. She rotated the artwork so they could get a better look.

"Oh Padmé, no!" Anakin started to protest.

"We'll take it," Padmé said, already handing over her card.

As the artist walked away to box the water sculpture and process the sale, Padmé turned to regard Anakin. He looked extremely uncomfortable.

"You shouldn't have done that," he said, clearly ill at ease.

"You liked it. I liked it. And it'll look great in our apartment," she said, breezily. She accepted her card and graciously thanked the artist. "And now you can carry it."

Anakin gave her a rueful look as she handed him the box.

"Happy Festival, Ani," she said. "Now let's find Sola."

In some ways, Sola had done Padmé a great favor by barreling into her bedroom this morning and discovering their secret. If she were completely honest with herself, there was a small part of her that was terrified to tell her parents about their marriage. Sure, Sola had been thrilled to hear of her marriage, and seemed not to give two womp rats' rears that said marriage flew in the face of a millennia of Jedi doctrine and senatorial decorum with Padmé's audacious complicity against those societal expectations. But Sola always had been somewhat of a rule-bender, and was more likely, and thus willing, to overlook the long term pitfalls in order to enjoy the short term gains.

Her mother and father on the other hand…

Cautious happiness framed with concern – that Padmé was sure she could anticipate from her mother. But for the life of her, Padmé could not begin to fathom how her father would react to the news.

He liked Anakin. She was confident of that assessment – though she thought his esteem for her husband was largely built upon Anakin's commitment to public service and his dutiful protection of Ruwee's youngest daughter. Would that regard change when she revealed their equally as serious but more intimate relationship? Would her father see Anakin's commitment to her as the fierce passion it truly was? Or as a reckless and dangerous subversion of his Jedi pledge?

Padmé chewed her lip, pushing the remaining food around on her plate. All of this mental debate had robbed her of her appetite, replacing her earlier stomach pangs with hundreds of fluttering butterflies. The revelation to Sola had been easier with the heat of indignant anger fueling her. Conscious calm confession was something else entirely.

Noticing her lack of appetite, Anakin glanced worriedly at her, and she felt his socked foot touch her own beneath the table. It was his way of asking her wordlessly if he could open their strange Force bond without acting against her will. She blew out a steadying breath and relaxed her mind, feeling him brush against her like a gentle caress.

You ok?

She nodded quickly in acknowledgement and set down her fork, reaching for a fortifying sip of wine. She could feel Anakin's eyes on her, watching her intently, but he didn't probe further, though he did leave their connection open in case she wanted to lean on it for support.

You don't have to do this if you don't want to…

"Yes I do, Ani," she whispered quietly. Though she didn't have to answer aloud, the spoken words gave her resolve, she still reached for his hand under the table.

Just remember, I'm the one about to be skewered with his own lightsaber…

Padmé couldn't help smiling at that, the moment of levity welcome and effective to slow her racing heart from its erratic thumping in her chest.

"Mom? Papa?" she said slowly, proud when her voice didn't waver. "I…" Anakin squeezed her fingers encouragingly. "Anakin and I have something to tell you."

She looked up then, emboldened by Anakin's gentle mental nudge and Sola's wide, knowing smile. Her parents looked at them, expectantly, her mother with an earnestly warm look, her father decidedly neutral. Padmé huffed out another quick breath and dove headfirst.

"After the attempts on my life a few months ago, you know Anakin was assigned as my bodyguard." They nodded mutely. "During our time hiding on Naboo, we… we fell in love." Her mother's eyebrows raised – surprised but not outright alarmed – and her father leaned back in his chair. "After the outbreak of war on Geonosis, he escorted me home and we were married in secret."

For a second, no one moved. Padmé was only too painfully aware of her heart hammering away again in her chest. Anakin's fingers flexed around her own.

Then pandemonium broke out.

Sola squealed, still overly excited despite having known their secret for most of the day. Darred smiled, though Padmé suspected more because of his wife's reaction and the realization that there was another son-in-law for Ruwee to grump about besides him. Jobal clasped her hands together, pressing them to her mouth with an astonished, "Oh, Padmé," which her youngest decided to interpret as a positive response. Ruwee slid his chair back and stood rather quickly, an action that Anakin followed himself. In doing so, her hand entwined with his became evident to everyone at the table.

Habit made Padmé's fingers itch to let go, but she was also terrified that her husband might do something rash if she did.

The two standing men stared at each other as silence fell around the dining room once again.

"Papa?" Padmé said. This time, her voice trembled.

"We'll talk in a minute," he said, his eyes never falling from the Jedi Knight. "I have a question for Anakin."

Anakin swallowed audibly, but to his credit, stood firm. Not very many people could make him feel small – especially considering he usually towered over everyone in the room – but she'd seen that look on her father's face and knew that her husband probably felt the inches melting off under that stare.

Ruwee walked deliberately around the corner of the table towards Anakin, who dropped her hand to approach his father-in-law.

"Son," he began sternly. Padmé thought the moniker was a good sign – but her father had a way of using the familial expression with younger men fairly regularly. "When I last hosted you in the spring, we had a discussion in the garden after dinner. I'm sure you remember this?"

"I do, sir," Anakin acknowledged respectfully. He had adopted a formal Jedi stance, his feet spread base wide, his hands clasped about the wrist and held behind his back. Briefly, Padmé wondered if her father would recognize the deferential posture, or if it would be lost on him.

"And do you remember what you told me at the end of that discussion?" Ruwee continued.

"I do, sir," Anakin repeated. At Ruwee's nod, he elaborated for the entire group. "You said that you didn't want anything to happen to her. And I said that I didn't either, and I was ready and willing to lay down my life for hers, if necessary, to ensure that nothing would."

Sola cooed a little at the romanticism of that promise, but Padmé didn't dare turn her head to see what was transpiring with the two men standing behind her.

Ruwee nodded once.

"I could hear the conviction in your promise then," Ruwee said. "And I can still hear that conviction and more now. Am I correct?"

"Absolutely. Padmé is my life, sir."

Ruwee held out his right hand, and Anakin only hesitated momentarily before accepting the proffered shake. Padmé turned then to see her father beam at Anakin, clapping him heartily on the shoulder with his free hand. A breath let out that she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

"I believe you," Ruwee said warmly. "Oh, and Anakin, drop the 'Sir'. I am your father-in-law now, I suppose."

"Yes, sir," Anakin replied automatically, which only made everyone laugh.

Anakin took a step back, as Ruwee turned his attention to his youngest daughter.

"Now you, young lady…"

Padmé pushed away from the table and stood to face him. She wondered briefly why Anakin didn't sit back down, but didn't have time to dwell on it when she caught Ruwee's stern gaze.

Despite four years as Queen and six years as Galactic Senator, Padmé felt like an unruly little girl about to be scolded for bad behavior by a disapproving father. Though, his exchange with Anakin had gone uneventfully, Padmé knew that Ruwee knew he didn't really have any authority over the younger man. And most likely realized an angry father-in-law was the least of Anakin's concerns about their marriage.

Padmé, on the other hand…

Using all of her training and experience reading people, Padmé searched her father's face for any clue as to what words Ruwee might have for her, but found none. Biting her lip, she prepared for the worst.

"Padmé, I can't tell you how disappointed I am," he said, sighing heavily. She winced when he dropped her gaze as if it pained him to look at her. But then he glanced back up, a twinkle in his blue eyes, his severe expression giving way to a broad warm smile. "That I did not get the chance to walk you down the aisle on your big day."

Speechless and whole-heartedly relieved, Padmé threw herself into her father's arms. Ruwee laughed, hugging her closely.

"I'm sorry, Papa," she said. "It all happened so fast."

Ruwee drew back in her embrace, his hands still holding her elbows as he studied her once more, all mock seriousness.

"Now I'll say to you what I said to your sister when she was married. If he so much as thinks about breaking your heart, there's a plot of land in the Mountain Country I've purchased and a shovel in the shed…"

"Papa!" Padmé exclaimed, giggling at her father's teasing.

Ruwee pressed a kiss to her forehead before resuming his seat at the head of the table. Her mother rose and came around to hug them both, whispering her own congratulations and patting Anakin's cheek affectionately.

"Well, I think I deserve the right to a toast at least," Ruwee said, once everyone had taken their seats again. He raised his glass, clearing his throat.

"To my family, old and new," he said, tipping his glass in Anakin's direction, "may you always find hope wherever you journey in this galaxy, may you always find joy and love in each other, and may you always find belonging and peace under this roof."

"Here, here," came the echoing chorus as they all clinked glasses.

Padmé sipped her wine, basking in the feeling of surrounding family. Her heart felt infinitely lighter, almost giddy, at the relief of revealing their secret. She looked to her husband, and felt her heart swell at the look of pure contentment on his face.

A sudden tinkling stole her attention away. Across the table, Sola, gleefully, and Darred, somewhat reluctantly, tapped their forks insistently on their glasses of wine, looking expectantly towards them.

Unfamiliar with this Nabooian wedding tradition, Anakin glanced to her, bemused. She grinned back, embarrassed.

"Well," Sola said, continuing to tap her glass. "Go on!"

Padmé pulled a mocking face at her sister, then leaned over to whisper in Anakin's ear about the customary expectation. He blushed violently at her words of explanation, but then bravely tilted her face up to his and kissed her.

Sola cheered wildly, the rest of the family clapping and smiling, not without enthusiasm.

Seeing Sola raise her fork daringly again, Padmé pointed a warning at her sister, but Jobal placed a hand on her eldest daughter's arm and shook her head firmly.

"That's enough," she said.

Before Sola could protest, Ryoo and Pooja came barreling into the dining room to see what all the fuss was about.

"Mami, we heard yelling," Ryoo said. Pooja nodded emphatically by her sister's side.

"It's all right," Sola said, smiling warmly at them. "We were just talking and got excited."

Ryoo surveyed the table's occupants, her face trusting but wary. Pooja seemed to accept her mother's words without question and tugged insistently on Sola's sleeve.

"Yes, Pooja?" Sola acknowledged.

"Can we ask him now?" Pooja said, her voice full of hope.

Sola sighed resignedly, and looked across the table to Anakin almost apologetically. "My daughter would like to ask you something," then mouthed silently – You can say no. "You may ask once… politely, girls."

Padmé watched her two nieces shuffle around the table, their little shoulders bumping each other in their haste. Clearly, they were excited about their little venture, but also still fairly shy with Anakin.

"Uncle Ani?" Pooja started.

Padmé startled at the title as much as Anakin did, but didn't correct her niece. Technically, she wasn't wrong.

"Can you come out and play in the snow with us?"

"Pooja!" Sola reminded her sternly.

"Please," the little girl added quickly. She folded her tiny hands into a pleading gesture, one that her sister quickly adopted.

"Um," Anakin said, almost as shyly. He looked to Padmé for help, but she shrugged lightly. "Sure, if you can convince your aunt to go too."

Padmé's mouth dropped open, a little betrayed at his craftiness, her eyes narrowed. Anakin returned the same nonchalant shrug.

"Aunt Mé-Mé, will you go outside and play with us in the snow so Uncle Ani will come out too? Please, please, please!" Ryoo and Pooja said in unison.

"I suppose," Padmé agreed. "But we need to finish supper first, okay?"

Her nieces nodded, their excitement tangible in their bouncing bodies and curls.

"Come on, girls!" Sola said, rising to the rescue. "You can help clear plates and then we'll get you bundled up. Speaking of which…" She handed off some dishes to her daughters, instructing them to be careful, and then addressed the table. "Anakin, I have something for you."

She disappeared from the room without further explanation, returning with a paper bag a few minutes later. Anakin recognized it as one she had been carrying earlier in the marketplace.

"I know the gift exchange is tomorrow evening, but you might need these for your outdoor adventures tonight," she said.

Anakin took the bag, and pulled out a set of knitted mittens, hat, and scarf. The black wool was soft and warm against his fingers.

"I didn't have time to wrap it since I only got it for you this afternoon," she said quickly, seeing his surprise. "Padmé said to get you black."

"Thank you," Anakin said. He frowned then, a little uncomfortable with all of the attention. "I'm sorry, I don't have anything to give you."

Sola waved him off, smiling reassuringly.

"I'll let you off the hook this year," she replied. "Besides, you have given me the gift of being, once again, right about my little sister. I daresay winter gear does not unburden my debt to you for that." She winked devilishly at Padmé.

"So you knew about them earlier?" Jobal asked, a little too casually.

Sola groaned, clearing more plates. "Seriously, Mom? Padmé goes and gets married in secret, and you're upset that I knew about this approximately nine hours before everyone else?"

"So you knew this morning then?" Jobal was not to be deterred by Sola's sass. "Did Padmé tell you?"

"Tell me?" Sola snorted. "In a way, I guess." She looked to Padmé, who sighed knowing the story was going to be told no matter her thoughts on the matter. "When I went to wake her this morning, I found her all snuggled up in bed with Anakin. I confronted her about it when we went to the market."

Jobal glanced to Padmé and Anakin, a thoughtful expression on her face. Ruwee suppressed an amused smile.

"Honestly, Mom," Sola continued, "how have you not seen the way they look at each other? It was completely obvious in the spring, and it was completely obvious last night..."

"So that's why the guest bed didn't look used," Jobal said, not hearing Sola at all.

Sharing in her sister's exasperation, Padmé shook her head, fast becoming weary with this line of conversation.

"No, Mom. Anakin stayed in my room last night," Padmé said. "We are married after all."

"Yes, well I understand that now, Padmé," Jobal replied. "But I didn't know that this morning, and…"

"Dear," Ruwee said, coming to stand at his wife's side. He reached for the bowls she had been collecting. "You weren't nearly this agitated when you knew Darred wasn't using the guest room when Sola first brought him home."

"Oh for the love of the stars!" Sola began. "How is this about my transgressions?!"

Anakin dutifully finished his meal, wisely keeping silent. Despite the topic currently in discussion, he felt oddly at peace with the ongoing repartee. It was warm, and well meant, and spoke volumes about the overwhelming love between members of the Naberrie clan. For the first time in many months, he felt like part of a family again.

Padmé touched his shoulder, drawing him out of his reverie.

"Shall we?" she whispered to him. "I don't want to cut the girls' play too short. It's getting dark quickly."

He beamed up at her, his belly full of food and his heart full of love.

"Lead the way, Milady."