Chapter 55. Vox Montoa, Part Three

And those who were seen dancing
were thought to be insane
by those who could not hear the music.
― Friedrich Nietzsche

The distant roar of waterfalls as we walk across a palace plaza.

Mountains of solid rock bending to reflection ripples on a lake's skin.

Hair warming under a meadow's sun, a heat which almost compares to the flirtatious flush in my cheeks.

The warm, malleable touch of a young man in love.

Metallic fingers, reminding me how close Death came to taking that man and his love away.

Like many, I often get too absorbed in the past, the future, or the 'what if?'s— forgetting to appreciate the gifts of the present. To consciously take a breath. To revel in the textures of my environment. Passively watch. Listen. Feel my heart beat.

Young children are natural experts at this; Ryoo and Pooja are the equivalent of Jedi Grand Masters. Life is the ultimate adventure to them. For better or worse, they've no barrier to feeling an emotion to its hilt. Every flower— every flower petal— is a spellbinding wonder of creation. Every second is the most infused and legitimate moment ever… but only until the very next second arrives. It's not as if the past or future don't exist to the girls— they simply don't let these intangible destinations hold more weight than the given moment.

But I've already seen signs of this ability waning in my eldest niece. When she and Anakin first met, seven-year-old Pooja was deciding upon a different career from week to week, as if who she will be in twenty years defines who she is as child. Her parents couldn't and shouldn't stop this shift. Growing up is a part of life. Caring about the past and future is an extension of caring for each other and ourselves. But with this maturity, adults struggle to maintain a magic that comes to younglings so effortlessly.

I struggle with it more than most.

I placed the rule of a planet on my own shoulders, so there, too, I put the blame. My aptitude tests displayed a penchant for public service at a young age; I willingly forsake what was left of my childhood and followed the call of that path. But the Trade Federation invaded so soon after my election; full recovery for our people was always a moving target. Goals and the needs of others were the threads in my tapestry of thought. The rewards of rest? Personal enjoyment? Distractions. Dalliances meant for after the work was completed, so that I may dive into them guilt-free. And yet, there was always something to improve upon. Always something to do.

Fourteen is a young and impressionable age for such a rigorous mentality. It set the tone for years to come. By the time I realized I needed to draw a line between public servant and a woman with personal autonomy, I was long past being capable of marking it. By then, it was easier not to divide my time, focus, thoughts— my very self. Amidala reigned aggressively over a single body and spirit long after she lost benign power over a population; Padmé became more and more reliant on her family and closest handmaidens to find, grab, and yank her out into the light.

Until, one day, a young man stepped off an elevator, and he reached my center of being with just a shy smile and the music of his voice.

I couldn't have asked for a better tether than Anakin. Fortunately, he was more than willing to show me how to relish in being alive. It was one of the things I loved most about him. He, who had once been considered property, lived life passionately obsessed with all the elements of it which cannot be bought or sold.

He helped meld my two personas into one, healing me into a new woman. I was awake for the first time in years. I'd been so worried I would lose myself in Anakin— but the opposite occurred. Finding true love centered my core beliefs around me that much more tightly.

All my life I'd fought for freedom, but I never truly appreciated it till invisible, yet formidable chains tried to keep us apart.

I'd always valued truth, but it wasn't until I saw raw vulnerability in Anakin's eyes and heard it bleed through his lips that I reckoned with the true impact and purity of what it means to be honest.

I am a life-long believer in pacifist ideals, but I never abhorred war as viscerally as I did when I became a soldier's wife.

Being with Anakin didn't loosen the grip I had on myself. It reinforced who I was, and what I would fight for; what I would lay my body over to defend.

This is why my choice was both that much more soul-shattering and impossible when my husband asked me to abandon my beliefs and follow on his dark path. How could he not see that my days of surviving another division were over? He'd fused me together too perfectly. I could not separate my love of Anakin from who I was, and the beautiful stranger standing before me should've known better than to ask. But ask he did, and in the fallout, I was truly lost.

"I could send him on an all-expenses paid vacation."

"Hmm. Or, maybe we—"

"A fishing expedition."

"Is it not the wiser course to avoid leaving a financial trail back to y—"

"He has a sister who lives in Moenia. Maybe I can convince him to visit her."

"That's… counting on a lot of variables working in your favor on short noti—"

"I can tell him I've contracted a contagious disease! I must isolate myself at Varykino, and it's in his best interest to stay as far away as possible." I took a sip of my drink as the faults in that scenario mounted one by one. After I swallowed the thick fluid, I set my half-drunk cup on the table again. Its contents tasted like liquefied oojani nuts, but I liked it. "Maybe the sister idea would be better."

The background sounds of live music and Slythe conversations grew in prominence. Absent was one, male, human voice.

Some part of me had grown so accustomed to interrupting Anakin that the new lull made me realize he was no longer trying to speak. For the first time since my brainstorming had begun, I actually looked at the face inches from mine, instead of talking at it.

"What's the matter?"

At first, Anakin only frowned at me like a reproachful parent, as if the answer should be obvious.

I stared back, innocently perplexed. I was trying to figure out how to nudge Paddy off the property he was groundskeeper of. Jumping away from my groom every time the elderly man walked by would put a damper on our wedding and honeymoon. What's more, such a plan would be doomed to fail; our ruse wouldn't last longer than a day. His daughter, Nandi, was a non-issue, as she only stayed at Varykino when she was aware there were guests to attend to. Her father was another matter. Getting him out of his home without piquing his curiosity was a riddle which had, so far, stumped me.

But Anakin was looking at me like I was the conundrum.

"You're doing it again. This is not your problem." His tone was kind, but firm. "This is our problem."

His sharp expression summoned me to remember this was territory we'd crossed before. I flashed back to our fight in the dining room of Varykino, over my inclusion— or rather, lack thereof— of my Jedi protector in strategic plans. Same team, I had promised him. Equals.

"Anakin." I paused for dramatic effect, a corner of my mouth lifting. "What do you think we should do to get Paddy off the property for a week?"

He broke out into a huge grin. "I don't know. I haven't a clue." A chuckle moved the bulge in his throat. "But I'm glad you asked me."

I rolled my eyes and looked away. He countered with an opportune kiss to my exposed neck. The tavern patrons ignored us. They'd long gotten used to the sight of the humans talking and giggling and generally romancing each other in the darkened booth.

Did I mention, we may have blown out a few of the nearby candles to give us better privacy? Anakin's convenient ability to extinguish wicks with a twitch of his fingers brought us both delight.

I think we were something of an amusement to the Slythe. Twice, we'd been sent a round of drinks purchased for us by friendlies at the bar. We waved our thanks and were waved back at— both sides happily sending smiles. But no one sat down opposite us and tried to initiate a conversation via Threepio. It was quite obvious through our body language that we only had eyes for one another. Anakin knew it, I knew it, and every droid and Slythe in the tavern knew it.

"Well, you know, I could mind trick him into plugging his ears and staying in his groundskeeper's cabin the whole time, but I doubt you—"

"No, Anakin!" I sat up straighter, lifting from his side to give my serious stare the berth it warranted. The arm he'd wrapped around my shoulders dropped to my lower back.

"We'd bring him food!"

"He's nearing seventy. So many days of mind manipulation might cause permanent damage."

He tilted his head, squinting in disagreement. "I don't think it works like that."

"We aren't going to test the theory on a man who's worked for my family for two generations."

Anakin nodded in unenthusiastic surrender, and Paddy Accu's brainwaves were safe for another day. Mollified, I settled against the lean chest once more.

A distracting thought whisked me in another direction. Anakin caught the diversion with admirable speed. "What is it?"

So quickly it was almost embarrassing, pressure collected behind my eyes. I stole time to gather myself by going for another sip of my beverage, this time an extended intake. I'd begun to feel the effects of my second cup of ale, true, but it was conflicting emotions— curiosity, dread, hope, and pain— which blundered the delivery of my words. "Your vision, all those years ago, at our first meeting, our very first meeting— the vision that told you we'd be married— how literal was it?"

Anakin, knowing I wasn't prone to halted speech, regarded me with careful vigilance. "I'm not sure I understand your question."

I wasn't sure I wanted the answer. But an idea had sprung, and with it, a mystifying dilemma. Anakin's decade old premonition might be the key to knowing whether or not it should be pursued. "Could you see… Do you remember what I was wearing?"

He looked somewhat baffled. "Ah, a dress, I believe. I can't remember in detail, but," his unfocused eyes dropped to the table as he scanned his memory banks. "I innately knew what I saw in that split-second was a wedding ceremony. Is that what you mean by 'literal'?"

"What did my dress look like?"

"It was more of a feeling than a holomovie, Padmé. I'm not even sure what I saw was a vision supplied by the Force, or my own imagination immediately creating an image based upon that feeling." Anakin's voice became wry. "It's not like I've ever been able to ask Obi-Wan for his insight on the matter." His expression sobered. Twin blues lost some of their brilliant light. "There were only bits of visible details. It wasn't like the clarity of my nightmares."

{I saw her as clearly as I see you now.}

I bit down on my bottom lip. I wouldn't have pressed him if it wasn't important to me. "Try."

Anakin sighed, but he obliged. I expected his eyes to retreat elsewhere as he searched inwards for my answers, but instead, he focused squarely on my own eyes. He gazed into them like his vision from ten years ago was reemerging in their depths. After a long moment, he calmly affirmed, "We were standing across from each other. You're wearing white."

I tried to work with this. "Bright white?"

Anakin rose to the occasion wonderfully. "No. It was more subtle than the shade you wore at the Victory Parade." His face further softened, and his lips curled up. "You looked beautiful."

I wasn't sure if his compliment was in reference to the day I handed Boss Nass the Globe of Peace, or how I appeared in his vision from the future. I lightly kissed him as a thank you either way.

When I pulled back, his eyes were already alight with one more gift. "There was something on your head. Most of your hair was— is— hidden."

At this, I stilled. "Are you certain?"

"I think so."

"How sure are you? If you had to make a call on whether I was wearing a veil or not, what would you say?"

Anakin was looking at me like I'd sniffed spice. "Aahh… yes. You were wearing a veil." He had a jolt, as if the vision had resurfaced more clearly in his memory. "But I could see your face. Does that make sense?"

My spine curved as I processed this information silently. I had my answer. The convenience of knowing was paired with the grief of further secrecy. My mind's eye brought forth an image of my parents, and I tasted betrayal of my own making. However, I'd actively sought the aid of the supernatural in order to make my decision and had received its help swiftly. I let out a long exhale, accepting fate's design even as I questioned my lunacy in adhering to it. "Alright then."

"Padmé… is there something you would like to share?"

I nodded. "Yes. After all, you're coming with me."

He looked to his left, as if I was about to push him out of the booth that moment. "Where?"

"To Theed. We have to break into my house to steal my wedding dress."

Sometime later, I was fully relaxed against Anakin's chest, his arms around me while we sat facing the dance floor. The pleasure of watching the scene from our booth was enhanced by the extra levity brought upon by the ale. I felt buoyant yet happily anchored. More plainly, I was tipsy. My date maintained that he was unaffected by his drinks. He credited his extra wide, near dopey smiles to his own happiness.

"One day," I was announcing. "I'll take you to the mountain village I wreaked havoc in as a child. You'll love it."

"I look forward to it." He inhaled the hair above my ear. After a moment, he relinquished the scent with a sigh. "I wish I'd been born on Naboo with you." I heard the grin in his voice. "We could have run around like womprats as children, turning our neighborhood upside down like your mother said we would've."

"I believe her exact words at the table were that we would have burned the place down." I patted his forearm. "No, no, you would've wanted to be born on Corellia or Nubia. To be surrounded by all that ship building?" With a smidgen of heaviness, I shook my head against his collarbone while imagining little Ani running around with a wrench and welder. "You would've been overseeing your own team of adults by the time you were twelve."

"Twelve?" he rejected. "With my mastery? That sounds a little old for me. Why not eleven? Or ten?" Now I smacked his chest with my hand. "Does it ever get confusing when you're talking to people who don't know the difference between Nubian ships from Nubia used by the planet Naboo, not from Naboo, a planet where people called the Naboo speak Nabooian?"

I looked up at him and sighed like a damsel in a stage play. "You have no idea. I have to explain the difference at least once a week. Sometimes to a Senator, who should know better!"

Anakin leaned his cheek on my forehead and reverted us back to the previous tangent. "Nah. I would've found my way to ships one way or another, wherever I was born, but I would've missed my troublemaker playmate on Naboo. I was supposed to have been born there. I know it."

I toyed with the sleeve of his right arm, rubbing its hem between my fingers. My voice was whimsical, almost sad. "Many things would be different if you had been."

Truthfully, this alternate reality wasn't the one I'd found myself ruminating on the past few weeks. In my own mind, it wasn't difficult to imagine how life would've turned out if the Jedi had denied Ani a home in their ranks. My planet would've accepted the Hero of Naboo with open arms. The Royal Air Academy is located in Theed, thus, the prodigal pilot would've been only a skipping stone away while I completed my time as sovereign.

His nightmares about his mother would have never come to pass, as I would've helped him free her years before. Our age difference would've been a factor for a significant amount of time, so it was harder to guess how much farther along in a romantic relationship we might've been now, but it was only a matter of when, not if.

Missing in this timeline was the event of a pivotal reunion, as we never would've needed to say goodbye. The realization of this caused so much sudden ache in my heart that I almost put a hand on the bosom above it.

A bittersweet fantasy arose unbidden. Shmi Skywalker and Jobal Naberrie. Standing together in my family's house; watching their son and daughter, and exchanging the knowing looks of perceptive mothers.

I cleared my throat, pushing away the wishes of a failed past. "You'd have been flying circles around the elites of the Royal Air Academy by the time you were ten. That is undeniable."

"Well. Realistically, if I had been born on Naboo, the Order would've found me when I was a baby."

"Hhmm."

This was the far less enjoyable alternate reality, the one I did not spend much time contemplating— Anakin, raised in the Jedi fashion of attachment; indoctrinated in the institution's beliefs before outside love had the chance to show him another way.

{How does a mentor teach where to draw the dividing lines in a person's instinctive humanity?}
{Well. There is a reason why Initiates are taken into the Order as infants and toddlers.}

He must have felt me stiffen. Lips were pressed to my temple like emotional medicine. "I still would have found you." His arms tightened around my torso. "Nothing would ever stop that, Padmé. We would be just as we are now."

Whether brought upon by my drinks or something else, a thought abruptly occurred to me. If there was a will of the Force, as I'd heard Anakin say, wasn't it telling that this higher power had him born outside the Republic— away from the dominion of the Jedi? Could that have been by design— a greater plan thwarted by Qui-Gon's insistence? Why place the prophesied savior of the Jedi Order on a remote world beyond their awareness and jurisdiction, banking his discovery on a hyperdrive failing and a chance encounter?

Such a line of thinking was moot, troublesome, or even dangerous to bring up after ten years of established brotherhood. I knew better than to speak my musings aloud. I nestled further into Anakin's embrace and kept my questions to myself.

Oblivious to all this, he rubbed his cheek against my hairline and chuckled. "To think, I would've been off to the Temple before we could burn down our first neighborhood."

"Good thing for the neighbors."

"Not so fun for us."

I tiptoed into his parallel universe with him, continuing the path of sarcasm. "If you were already being trained on Coruscant, then I'd still be stranded on Tatooine today with Qui-Gon and Jar Jar, looking around for a miracle child to save our skins."

"You'd have Obi-Wan with you, too, don't forget— leaving me to be trained by… Ki-Adi-Mundi?" Anakin took a deep breath and reset his face into a serious etch. He lifted a hand to stroke a long, imaginary beard. "I cannot agree with you—"

His bad accent didn't make it far before I was covering his mouth with my hand the way he'd covered Threepio's earlier. "No, no, no, no— that's enough impressions for one date."

He laughed and intertwined my fingers with his. There was a quick kiss to my ridge of knuckles before he lowered our clasp to my waist, setting his arms to envelop me from behind once again. Our comfortable silence mixed with the live music. Reclined against him, I let my daydreams run wild, imagining a life spent with Anakin in it for the past ten years. My imagination castled scenes from this alternate reality, where tens of thousands of memories would've been clocked by this point, and goodbyes had only ever lasted hours or days. Where I was there when his voice cracked its way through puberty, and he gradually transformed into a young man before my eyes. Where friendship turned into love without the backdrop of assassination attempts, death, and funerals. Where my family and handmaidens congratulated and celebrated the announcement of an engagement they'd long seen coming. And where Anakin— by his sheer presence— had always kept Padmé closer to the surface and her suppression by Amidala in check.

It was a wonderful series of daydreams. It would've been easy to spend another ten years envisioning this imagined realm.

And then, I calmly let it all go. A content smile elevated my cheeks as I returned to the bustling tavern. Anakin's chin rested on the crown of my hair. He was bobbing it subtly in tandem to the band's tune, consequently tilting my own head with him. Each of his inhales pressed lightly into my back. The small pressure from his expanding lungs would retreat for an average of two… three seconds, and then I'd feel it again. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. I love you. Exhale. Soon enough, I believed I could feel his pulse in sync with mine.

I breathed in the aromas of cooked food, ale, wisps of candle smoke, and Anakin's scent. A faint trace of delicious forest air wafted in every time the massive tavern door opened. I watched the dance floor's occupants stomp and spin to the accelerating rhythm. One inebriated male submitted to dizziness and almost fell, but his laughing friends were quick catch him. As the bass player erupted into a loud solo, all deciphering of heartbeats— Anakin's or my own— blended into a single, thumping vibration that connected every creature in the room.

Ignorance is bliss, or so they say. As long as we were in a reality which had brought us to this booth, who was I to care which particular ribbon of fate we were walking?

Shadows were cages and concubines to my and Anakin's relationship. It's easy to assume I mean this metaphorically, but in fact, the actual darkened corners of society were as instrumental in our survival as they were to our demise. Prison and protection, bars and shielding curtain, shadows were the ally which constantly threatened to poison us if we drank too much of their shade. Maybe, over the course of three years, we unknowingly consumed beyond our ability to cope. A healthy marriage cannot breathe in the dark. Light is the antidote to suffocation. Wait too much time to administer it, and you'll only last long enough to see your dreams die before you do.

But in the tavern on Vox Montoa, our passion for each other was so fresh and raw that disappearing into the fringes of society wasn't a stress— it was an aphrodisiac. Our love match was forbidden. Senator. Jedi. Labels so repeated in our psyche that they'd become gates we wanted, on some primal level, to rattle in riot. Vox Montoa offered us this. It was freedom laced with just enough calculated risk. It was celebration happening on our own time. The breaths taken when guilt and fear didn't plague us were almost crippling with their exhilaration.

After all, since when has the thrill of sneaking around ever quenched a young pair's desires rather than inflamed them?

We were enjoying our watch of the dance floor just as much as we were happy to abstain from it. Its dancers provided plenty of entertainment. But as our bellies had been tended to with food, our tab paid, and we were neither ordering nor accepting more drinks, manners eventually won out. We released our booth for others to enjoy and the waiter to profit from.

But I was loathe to give up the body-to-body proximity we'd seeped ourselves in. As if reading my mind, Anakin took my hand and migrated us away from the crowd. His determined steps led us to a support column in the southern pocket of the tavern. Barrels of ale were stored here in stacked rows. Given its distance from the dining booths, the bar, and the dance floor, this small area was as private as we were going to get. Here, the shadows were the mightiest, and the glow from candles barely tried.

There's excitement in the dark when love and attraction fragrant its air. Anakin and I tucked ourselves against the side of the column that best hid us from view. One of each of our shoulders leaned on the round beam. My hands were flat on his chest, mapping the brown fabric of his tunic. The dark only highlighted the chiseled angles of his face. He came closer until his breath swirled in my ear.

"Did you know…" Goosebumps flew up my arms. His left palm found my right. "There are more connections between the brain and the hand… than with any other partnership in your body?"

I'd finished my drinking for the night midway through my third cup, but it was possible I might become drunk on Anakin's tone alone. "Really?"

"Mmmhmm." The skin of his palm caressed sideways against mine. "Billions of synapses are constantly working together. It's very important to nurture that relationship. Keep it strong."

"A bilateral conversation," I supplied, borrowing a term from my political playpen.

"Indeed."

White-hot need accrued within me. It converted itself into audible breaths when he confiscated a hip and towed me further into him. I brushed his cheek with the tip of my nose, whispering, "Where did you learn this knowledge?"

There was an unmistakable pause. Anakin's voice didn't flow as sensually. "The lead medic on The Credence. He told me things to keep me distracted while they attached the arm." I tilted back and carefully studied what I could see of his face. At any second, I knew, this enticement could turn into a eulogy for his lost hand. But instead, Anakin lifted his left index finger and ran it along my jawline. Slowly. "You know, the medic also told me… the pad of a finger is so sensitive, it can feel objects as small as thirteen nanometers. Which apparently means," he stroked a trajectory across my chin, adding his thumb to the trail, "if your finger was the size of Naboo… you could feel the difference between houses and speeders."

As his thumb traced the line where my pink bottom lip met regular flesh, I coyly prompted, "How amazing. You can feel defects that small?"

Anakin passed my test with a rogue's smile, leaning in for his reward as he did so. "What defects? I don't feel any defects here." Warm breath announced his hungry lips a second before they captured mine. My fingers slid up and over his shoulders, pressing him to me. When the nails of one hand ventured north into the hair above his neck, an animalistic moan rumbled from the back of his throat.

Ending a kiss which only left me wanting more, Anakin pulled away to search my face in the dim light. I felt everything and hid nothing. All of it was mirrored back at me in his expression.

"Of course," he whispered, though, a shyness now warred with his bravado. "More touch…" he swallowed, "is the only way to be sure."

It was a bold line in theory, but it was delivered with the nervous energy of a man as novice to actual lovemaking as me. There were no barriers here. No more mind games or misunderstandings. We were off the grid. Our private ship was a ten minute walk away. There would be no one to interrupt us; no pain medication in his system to spoil our intentions. The reality of becoming lovers was suddenly very, very close. Anakin had the bravery to speak his words, but that endearing shyness would linger until the deed was actually done.

I watched a slideshow of love, timidity, insecurity, and lust play out across his face. Ani always was in a composite state of emotions, rarely ever caught up in one feeling at a time. In this particular instance, it was both understandable and wildly relatable. It would be disingenuous to say we hadn't built up our anticipated union to dangerously high levels of expectations. Neither of us wanted to be the reason why it was anything less than perfect for the other.

I strained on my toes to kiss him again, willing to bet his heart was pounding as thunderously as my own.

We didn't go to the ship. We didn't make it that far. However, we did go outside and find a spot beyond the tree line, safe from other eyes. There, we shared several minutes of unbridled kisses and roaming hands. I heard brand new words in Amatakka. He evoked more moans from my intimately private library of sounds. With gusto, we made up for all the touches we'd refrained from back in our booth.

While surrendering under the starry night sky is undoubtedly romantic, I don't think either of us considered our first time happening meters from an active village ideal. But we didn't exactly get far enough to committee it.

Early on, I'd pulled his brown and gray tunics over his head to grant my hands easy access to his torso. I made good use of this access, running my fingertips up and down his naked back even as Anakin lowered us on to a soft spot of grass. Clothed hips aligned. Paired lips wrote wordless poetry. When it naturally came time for the next item of clothing to go, the tiny part of my mind not drowning in desire knew we were approaching a point of no return. I tensed. A desire of a different type broke through, one as powerful as it was ill-timed. In a moment of nervous hesitation, I oddly began to tell Anakin a joke I had recently heard. Dormé's joke.

About the Jedi. And their lightsabers.

This made a now frantic Anakin realize he'd left his weapon behind in the satchel— accidentally left in the surrendered booth— bringing us to a screeching halt. He helped me to my feet, threw on his tunics, and we quickly made our way back to the building— where we retrieved the unbothered satchel.

Upon re-entering the tavern, our lips and chins were as crimson as the red makeup donned by a Queen of Naboo. It was a good thing his brown tunic had already been untucked when we first arrived, but my hair was a dead giveaway. Maybe. Slythe don't have hair, so I wasn't sure they were knowledgeable enough of what tousled locks surrounding a rosy face might point to. This was one of the few, actual things I was ever jealous of when it came to Anakin, even though it saved us on more than one future occasion. No matter how many times or how passionately I entrenched my hands in his hair, it was long enough to absorb them, but too short to leave any proof.

At least… for a while. I still remember the look on his face the first time I had to stop him before he walked out of my apartment so I could rectify his wayward waves. He swore on the spot he was going to get them cut. I didn't let him leave until he newly swore not to. I'd loved his short hair and thought I would miss it. I hadn't a clue how much more handsome he'd become once his waves were given the chance to grow out.

I should say, my private relief that Anakin and I had been foiled outside didn't undermine my enjoyment of the evening— it only added to it. There was a discussion I still had the chance to have with him… so long as I had the inner strength to abide by its goal. My body burned with ravenous desire, but my heart had a tender wish that might yet come true.

We navigated through the structure until we found Artoo and Threepio. I avoided the eyes of tavern patrons who may or may not have guessed what we'd been up to outside, but I wasn't embarrassed. The hallways of the Senate Rotunda were lightyears away. I had no identity here. I wasn't even Padmé. I was a young creature in the throes of first love, living out the clichés as if the man at my side and I had originated them. I'd never been so entrenched in the present, and I'd never felt more alive in my life.

I should've seen it coming. True to the daredevil in his nature, Anakin aimed to push the boundaries of this freedom as far as I'd let it go.

Routine bodily needs eventually call on all humans, and I'd drunk enough to prove this true. The building lacked a proper place for a female of my species to relieve herself, so I set out to take advantage of the privacy offered beyond the tree line for a wholly new purpose. Anakin initially declared he would come with me for safety's sake, an idea I immediately shot down. We compromised by assigning Artoo as my companion.

After returning from the trees, I re-entered to find Anakin and Threepio standing next to a table near the bar. I'd casually noticed the round, gray furnishing before. Too small and short for a group of Slythe to comfortably sit around, it seemed to be a placeholder for emptied drinks. But Anakin had a conspiratorial look on his face. Something was underway. As I neared, I realized the marvel of his discovery. It wasn't a random piece of furniture— was a dejarik table.

However pleasant, my surprise bordered on shock. "What is this doing here?"

His voice, like mine, was loud enough to compensate for the activity around us. "I wondered the same, so I had Theepio ask." He nodded encouragingly at the protocol droid. "Go ahead, you can tell her."

As always, Threepio was happy to be of service. "It seems the tavern owner wanted to give off-worlders a touch of the familiar. A rather clever business strategy, if I may say. Unfortunately, so few visitors come through, it hardly gets any use."

Anakin cut back in, grinning sheepishly. "I asked permission for us to change that. They finished clearing the mugs just before you walked in." That explained the lingering wet rings on the dusty surface. But Anakin waved a welcoming hand over the table like it was shining with polish. "I would be honored if you would join me."

I smiled. Who could resist such a tantalizing offer?

The switch was found and flipped. Eight holographic beings came to illuminated life. Some stretched their arms like they'd been cooped up for years, others got right into the spirit with mewling battle cries. The Kintan strider swung a mallet that was almost as thick as his massive arm. All pieces in dejarik are based on real and very dangerous creatures, but standing not more than three inches off the table, some of them— even the K'lor'slug, with its suction cup mouth and sharp teeth— looked cute.

Our first round was more an exhibit of flirtatious taunts than calculated strategy— unless that was Anakin's strategy. The back-and-forth wit was as much play to us as what was happening on the board, and my opponent didn't hold back. While I succumbed to the heat of his finest selection of stares and innuendos, he— the newer student to dejarik, who hadn't touched it since his introduction on the refugee ship— was quickly finding his bearings. I managed to pull myself together at the last moment and secure victory, but it came close.

Barely ten minutes later, we had amassed a circle of spectators. Interest seemed to be a tie between seeing the dejarik table in action and its players themselves. The Slythe had left us to our den of romance in the booth before, but they seemed delighted that we'd finally ventured out amongst the tavern's community. Threepio translated the questions or comments— some about the game; most about us. We dodged with vagueness the personal inquiries but blushed at almost everything else. According to the droid's direct translation, the Slythe repeatedly referred to us as each other's "mate". It was an understandable assumption, but the fact that Anakin and I hadn't technically crossed that milestone yet was enough to send blood into our cheeks every time Threepio awkwardly used the word.

After three rounds, it was time for us to wrap things up. Anakin's aggressive approach, while usually an advantage in a game like dejarik, blinded him to my more strategic movements. Against my advice, he kept sending his most powerful pieces to the front first, losing them early and quickly. By the time his third defeat was apparent, he was frowning more than flirting. In addition, our spectators were clearly getting a little bored watching my continuous streak of wins; they wanted to try their own webbed hands at the game.

To my surprise, though, Anakin put his hands on his hips and nodded at me. "One more."

"If you're sure…?"

He looked back at me with all the determination that had made him a podracing champion at the age of nine. "I'm sure. But, let's add some stakes this time."

I shook my head and lightly laughed, my smile now beaming. After all, his unabashed confidence— when it wasn't swung in the direction of crippling insecurity— was one of the many reasons why I'd fallen in love with him.

"Alright. Go on."

Anakin bowed his head in accommodation. There was a twinkle in his eyes. "I have two or three ideas in mind, but ladies first."

I eyed him back, sensing the jester at work. "If I win… we find out if we can keep up with them." I tilted my head in the direction of the dance floor several meters to my right. More and more of the buildings occupants were congregating there.

Ani only grinned bigger. "I'm sworn to protect you. But I can't promise your toes are safe from my feet."

"Are you admitting you expect to lose?" I raised an impish eyebrow.

"Not at all. When I win… The ship's comms— Threepio, if anyone asks, don't translate this conversation." His back straightened. I saw a flash of nervousness, covered rapidly by another determined stare. I got the distinct impression the nerves were for me, not Threepio. "The ship's comms stay off for the rest of our journey. No more dropping out of lightspeed. Just us and the stars from here till Naboo."

My playful smile receded. We looked at each other from opposite sides of the round table, postures equally rigid. Slythe drank, talked, and seemed to urge Threepio for translations. My ears gave the interactions just enough attention to gather that the droid was abiding by Anakin's order. But my eyes remained set on the only other human in the building.

"That's asking for far more than a dance."

Anakin didn't flinch. If anything, his chin only rose. "You stated your terms. These are mine."

As a politician, I'd found that when terms were offered like this— clean and lean— it was as much a relief as it was a headache. On the one hand, the opposition's stance was definable; simple. In the gray world of politics, it was rare to encounter such black and white. However, this directness was often knotted with stubbornness.

I gazed back at Anakin wordlessly as I weighed the ramifications of his win. If safe, Dormé and Captain Typho would've taken off from Coruscant by now. I'd have a message confirming as much from her when we returned to our ship. But he wasn't talking about Dormé's comm— Anakin wanted me to smother my compulsive need to check for the latest news; to dedicate this trip solely to us.

What was so crazy was that I wanted to give him exactly what he was asking for. I wanted to carry the abandonment of self beyond this tavern door and into all the precious hours I had with him. However, the honorable weight of being a public servant, no matter how much it had crushed my personal life, was not something I could easily remove. As he himself as said on the yacht, I was wildly out of practice— and the never truly silenced Amidala was bristling.

I'm not just a bride. I'm a Senator. He mustn't forget that.

A drip of resentment crept in. I didn't like that Anakin had placed me in the position, yet again, of having to prove my love in a match-up against my duty as a public official. Did it cross my mind that the healthiest way to resolve this wasn't through conquering one of our wishes with a game played by pint-sized, lit up monsters? Absolutely. The mature recourse would've been to find a private place we could talk it through, respecting each other's feelings and seeking a compromise.

But Anakin and I were perfect for each other, not perfect ourselves.

I was a Galactic Senator and it was my ship— I had the right to drop us out of lightspeed and check the HoloNet for war updates as often as I wanted to. Ultimately, I told myself it didn't matter. I was the better dejarik player. Anakin was asking for something he wasn't likely to get. I would just have to do my best to make him understand when we were back in flight, and I felt the irrepressible impulse to abide by the commitments of my profession.

Though they lacked any red and white pigment, the tone of a monarch flowed through my lips. "I agree to your terms."

A/N: Doing something unusual today. This chapter is 75% done. I made a firm commitment to getting content up this weekend, but despite working on it every day, it's looking doubtful that I can get the full chapter there by tonight (Sunday). Therefore, this is the first posting of Part Three. When the ending portion is done, this chapter will be deleted and reposted in full (so that those subscribed to New Chapter alerts will get the notification).

If using the same device, I think readers with site accounts can normally only leave one review per chapter, regardless of deletions/repostings. If you'd like to save your review until the full thing is up, that's totally groovy.

Hope to have the rest posted in the next 24 hours.