A/N: As much as I've talked about using interviews and whatnot to make this true to canon, please remember that at the end of the day, this is my own interpretation of the story & characters. If you vibe with it, that's truly wonderful. If you don't, that's cool, too. That said... I hope y'all enjoy. :)
This chapter is dedicated to sinking815 for being there through my writing freakouts, providing both laughs and sage advice.
I couldn't have finished this chapter without you.
Settle in for this one. It's the longest yet, and it's a doozy.
Chapter 23. I Can't Breathe
I wish the love
I have come to meet,
was not an inch
within my reach.
I wish the prize
was so far-flung,
that I would not cry
if it were not won.
I wish the dream
was placed so high,
that my panicked heart—
would dare not try.
- Lang Leav
There is no veil so suffocating and thick as it is deliriously wanted like the shroud a heart can produce over its own eyes. When we want to see what we want to see, we can contrive all manner of reasons and weak logic to validate our vision. Hope and optimism are essential to happiness and progress, but in irrational excess, they cripple legs even as they let the believer think they are flying.
Under the right circumstances, the most sensible of women may grasp for the thinnest of arguments to support her desires. Heaven, after all, is a field overflowing with fulfilled wishes.
But Reality carries a mighty torch, and if given the opportunity, she will burn your field to the ground.
Behold, my ashes.
All other aspects of our time on the island aside, it would have been worth the overnight stay just for the look on the guards faces when they saw us walking out of the water.
Our empty stomachs pushed us out of the hut at an early rise far more than our hunger for clean bed sheets did. As soon as we felt we had enough morning light to safely cross the liquid courtyard between our oasis and the stately castle, we swam. We swam for leftover shaak ribs. We swam for fugee grapes. I, alone, swam for broiled guelee fish.
The guards protecting Varykino apparently observed two small streaks slicing their way towards the lodge with a mild case of concern. Three of them rushed down to the beach to make sure we were not twin creatures sent to invade the villa. Their jaws were slack as a pair of recognizable, though barely dressed— speaking mostly for myself here— humans emerged from the waves lapping the shore.
In addition to tiredness from the exercise and hunger, I'd become so accustomed to being in my swimsuit around Anakin that I didn't think to be conscious of it in the presence of the stunned guards. My companion, however, had not forgotten my attire, and he rapidly used the Force to summon not his belt, not his lightsaber, not his tunic, but my robe before we were even vertical on the beach. Once his own things were acquired by hand, Anakin himself only slung his tunic over one wet shoulder then reattached his belt— the saber clearly hung in front of one thigh as he eyed the three other men like a castigating general watching his troops. I gave the guardsmen the explanation for our aqueous arrival while they did a masterful and respectful job of showing their understanding even as they all kept their eyes diverted away from me.
Dripping with every eager step, we made a direct line for the kitchen the moment we left the shore. Anakin and I gorged ourselves like a famished king and queen who'd been lost in the woods for days. Teckla, Nandi, and Paddy were still absent— no doubt finishing their last clumsy dances around the village bonfire— and so we raided the opulent pantry ourselves. We didn't bother with a table. Instead, we were content to delay the return of our fine-dining manners a little longer and eat over the nearby sink. It was an ironic mirroring of our pillage of the glassmaker's stash in the hut, only now the offerings were far more plentiful and fresh.
Once the culinary invasion concluded, Anakin and I were both ready for showers and an overdue return to our cushioned beds. We'd already settled on the reality that we were each going to spend the rest of the morning recouping lost sleep, but I was in need of distance from him for other reasons. I didn't want to wait one more day without broaching the topic of us, but I needed time and space to get my thoughts in order before I ventured down such a formidable path. With this thought heavy in the back of my mind, I was silent as Anakin and I walked the halls of the villa side-by-side towards the split where we'd separate for our respective rooms.
The young man was quiet in his own reserved way as we ambled along. I cannot say it was a comfortable silence, for our smiles and happy sighs from the food satiating had given way to an abrupt, almost nervous hush between us. I was overtly aware of the soft pads of our feet on the tile floor, the way my hair soaked through the thin robe and ran a warm river down my lower back, and the sunlight creeping ever more brightly through the windows on our route.
Soon enough, we came to the place where we could go no further as one. Instead of parting accordingly, we jointly came to a stop and regarded each other. I felt like a teenager bidding farewell as she sneaked back inside her room after an indecent liaison. Anakin's cheek tugged on a corner of his mouth as he gazed at me softly, and his nerves at once seemed both compounded yet shoved to the side in the name of persistence.
"I..." He hesitated, eyes scanning my face as he suddenly bit down on his full bottom lip in a shy smile. "I have something I wish to speak to you about. Later. I—" He looked down at our feet for an extended pause before gazing at me under long lashes. "I need some time to first get my thoughts in order. It's important, what I have to say."
Whatever he wanted to talk about was obviously quite serious to him, for Anakin was not one to do or say much of anything with premeditation. I felt heat rise in my cheeks. A whirlwind of emotions— nervousness, excitement, relief, fright— sent my heart into an unexpected thunder. There could be only one topic he'd want to discuss with me which would humble him into profound preparation.
I wasn't the only one who thought we were due an admission of the palpable attraction between us.
The realization should have brought me comfort, but instead I only felt more skittish. Whether it would've been fueled by logic or self-conscious fear, any last minute hope of avoiding the topic altogether was now buried in the sand. With Anakin's words, the door to acknowledgment was going to be opened whether I opened my own mouth or not. Luckily, I was still committed to the plan. I nodded. Despite the informal, downright primal nature of my feelings, there was a strong hint of Amidala in my voice as I fell back on the stoic persona I instinctively used whenever I felt emotionally shaken. "I have decided a conversation would be appropriate as well, and I would also like some time to prepare what I want to say."
Anakin's eyes widened a little at this and he looked at me, perplexed. He relaxed somewhat when I offered him a smile, one wholly untethered from a formal Senator. I meant for it to be reassuring, but I'm sure my shyness infiltrated it greatly.
He let out a shaky laugh. "Alright. I shall see you at… dinner?"
I hedged at this. So much time would give us nearly a full day to emotionally prepare for whatever feelings were going to be declared. In truth, I needed the hours to gather up the courage to be so vulnerable even as I felt sure Anakin was going to be leaps and bounds ahead of me. But the pang I felt at being apart from him for so long— however rational, mature, and relatively brief the separation— made me want to throw caution to the wind, confess my feelings for him on the spot, and spend the rest of the day figuring out our beautiful entanglement together. Surely two minds were always better than one when it came to deciphering a solution?
But I knew Anakin and I deserved to start out on the best foot we could, and that meant thinking clearly about whatever situation we were about to put ourselves in. To do so, I needed the kind of clarity I did not find in his head-spinning company. Besides… once everything was out in the open, our lips might be preoccupied by activities distracting them away from any sort of… verbal conversation.
While such a daydream played out vividly in my mind's eye, I stole a glance at the pink, twin pillows above Anakin's chin. I obscenely thought about postponing my return to the other pillows on my bed a bit longer. Suddenly, they were not the soft pair I craved.
My entire rib cage vibrated from the abrupt pounding of my heart. Without my permission, my ears searched for any sound which would counter the assumption we were currently alone in this area of the lodge.
An unadorned wall was a mere step away from my backside. I shut my eyes as the unbidden image of Anakin pressing me up against it with his body as his lips assailed me plummeted my senses.
The emboldened vixen sprung to life, not that she'd gotten much rest as of late.
No one would have to know.
I let out a quivering breath, fighting to douse the surge of fire in my blood. I opened my eyes and presented a wobbly smile.
Gods, what has this man done to me?
I reflexively rubbed a hand against the spot on my neck where imagined-Anakin had just placed passionate phantom kisses. The real thing was watching me with one raised brow. As much as I clearly needed to get my head on straight before I talked with Anakin about where we went from here, the idea of not seeing him till late that evening was not one I was keen on. "An early dinner," I muttered, albeit earnestly.
His grin grew at the zest in my voice. "An early dinner," he repeated. Simmering blue eyes took one last look at my flushed face. "I'm looking forward to it." Finally, we turned to go to our rooms.
I knew enough mechanics not to thank the gods for indoor plumbing, but I sent a grateful prayer their divine way nevertheless upon entering my shower stall. Even in my bathing box, my thoughts never strayed far from the visage of Anakin in my mind. Anakin smiling. Anakin shy. Anakin laughing. Anakin looking at me with eyes that stripped away all manner of propriety and primness so viscerally I was almost stunned my skin didn't melt right off my bones.
As the water rained down, I closed my eyes and roamed my hands over my body while pretending they were his. Like a woman fevered by madness— or maddened by fever— I alternated between delirious smiles and anxious exhales of rushed breath. I could neither escape into the elation of my feelings too long before the real-world concerns snaked their way in, nor linger in that fraught world of worry before the delicious fingers of fragile hope caressed their way into readmittance. Never in my life had I been so caught up in the ecstasy of attraction— my previous experiences with it were modest hills compared to the planet-sized vortexes spinning away between my lungs and the apex point of my thighs.
Upon exiting the shower on shaking legs, I dressed in the first silky slip I saw. I dried my hair into a straight length and finally buried myself under the enveloping sheets on my bed. Sensual, adult fantasies continued to flow unencumbered through my imagination. I lavishly envisioned at least a dozen different scenarios that could have materialized on the island in another, more brazen life. The warmth produced by my detailed fantasies made me cast off the top cover of my bedding in a vain attempt to cool my aroused body. Every time I closed my eyes, my skin conjured the stroke of his fingers, and although they tried, my own were a poor substitute.
It took a long time for me to fall asleep.
Several hours later, after waking and using the fresher, I strolled back into the bedroom and checked myself in the full-length mirror. For the second time in three days, I didn't recognize the person staring back at me.
Other eyes might not have noticed the changes, but I was cognizant of my reflection enough to see the stark differences. Where for months there had been gray bags under my eyes, the area was now rosy and clear. My cheeks looked fuller, my skin brighter and more flushed. Even my eyes looked luminous.
For the first time in a very long time, I studied the image in the mirror and consciously registered a young, vibrant, multidimensional woman. For the first time in an even greater span of time, I looked in my own brown eyes and did something I hadn't done since I was a girl— I gave myself a heartfelt and friendly smile.
As happy as I was to welcome the vivacious woman in the mirror, it was time to get serious and think. While I began a steady back and forth pace across my bedroom floor, I pulled on my second-nature debate smarts like I was zipping up a dress.
First, the harsh reality of pursing this beyond the mountains of Naboo, which meant— more bluntly— on Coruscant: We'd be looking over our shoulders constantly. We'd rightly be terrified that we'd be caught in person or seen on footage. Cameras were a way of life for politicians, as I'd all too well remembered the first night a teenager kept watch in my apartment. It wasn't impossible, but privacy from lenses on the capitol planet was a difficult thing to come by.
A chill went down my spine as I realized what a recording in nefarious hands would surely be used for— a bribe. How powerful would a holovid or even picture like that be, held over both an influential Senator and an aspiring Jedi with his whole career in front of him? One or both of us could be dishonorably discharged from our life's work. Whatever we did going forward, discretion would always have to remain the top priority.
I'm jumping ahead of myself. Right now, we're on Naboo, not Coruscant.
We didn't know how long it would be until word from Obi-Wan came and this assignment wrapped. Did we still have days left at Varykino? Weeks? The idea of willingly keeping Anakin at arm's length for such an extended time seemed impossible. I knew I didn't have enough resolve in me to make even one more swim to the private island and not give in to a kiss.
After one permitted kiss it would be all the easier for there to later be a second, and—
And suddenly, my mind distracted itself by racing off with more fantasies. Anakin and I ducking into empty hallways and dark corners to steal kisses and touches, hiding from the guardsmen and villa staff like naughty teenagers. Anakin and I mischievously and knowingly glancing at each other across the dinner table. Anakin and I taking advantage of our private terrace to hold each other in unconcerned embraces. Anakin and I going back to the meadow, putting down another blanket, and this time cuddling on the ground together with my hand on his chest as we picked out shapes in the clouds.
Mother of moons. One step at a time, Padmé.
My concern for my staff— especially Dormé— unquestionably made me hope for a speedy resolution to the assassin nightmare regardless of how greedy I was for more time with my protector. That said… if the call of good news came today or tomorrow, I wasn't ready to say goodbye to him for another ten years just yet. I'd be sentencing myself to months of "What ifs?" alongside an endless stream of unsatisfied fantasies. My dedication to my work deserved better than that; however right the pull to Anakin felt, I needed to get it out of my system.
Perhaps what I'm endeavoring to do isn't the cleanest way to go about that goal, but surely it's more prudent that I learn the answer to the "What if?" question so I can more quickly put it all behind me at the inevitable conclusion? Yes, erase the mystery— that would be the best course of action.
Fool. Fool. Fool. Naive, uninformed, idiotic fool.
Even then, I still thought the "out card" was in my deck.
Unaware of my ignorance, I tapped my chin in ambitious thought. The lowest streets of Coruscant might provide the privacy shield we'd require. We could disappear into the dark underbelly there, in the land where identities could be cloaked even in the dynamic glow of neon lights. So, there were options. It would be tempting fate too much to ever pretend he'd been sent to the Senate Rotunda on an errand, no matter how many dark corners the building nested. My venturing towards Anakin's home— the Jedi Temple— was out of the question.
The Jedi.
I gnawed on the inside of my cheek. The mental image of a petite green man who'd always regarded me with respect and even warmth looked at me now with disapproving green eyes.
Conventionally, an affair between Anakin and I would be frowned upon given our positions in two different yet overlapping branches of government. But Anakin wasn't from any random assembly. The Jedi actually had laws on attachments, especially of this kind. While my own role as a Senator was no insignificant fact, the Jedi would have to be the first hurdle Anakin and I discussed.
So, what did I know of the Jedi? Admittedly, very little. I'd been schooled very lightly on their ways prior to the invasion, and I didn't quite have the luxury of time or attention to ask academic questions to Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. I'd interacted with other Masters over the years— Yoda, Windu, etc— but our conversations never veered very far into the mysterious realms of the Order. In spite of the fact that they dedicated their service to the Republic, the Jedi seemed to prefer keeping their secrets close.
But I wasn't completely uneducated. Although Ani had been born outside the Republic, all newborns birthed within it were blood-tested for their midi-chlorian count— what exactly that was, I wasn't sure— as a routine part of their medical checks. I only knew one person directly whose results had come back of note: Brother Luke's.
{My midi-chlorian count registered high enough to land me on their radar, but nothing notable enough for them to push hard for my recruitment.}
What I did recall learning after we'd departed Coruscant was that Master Qui-Gon had not been permitted to take Anakin on as his apprentice. The boy had been disappointed, to say the least, whilst sharing the news with me in our swamp hideout during the wait for Jar Jar to return with news of the Gungans. Ani hadn't elaborated on why, but given what Brother Luke recounted, it seemed safe to assume it had something to do with a low midi-chlorian count.
{My blood test came back just barely on the line. Nevertheless, they extended the offer to my parents to take me to Coruscant to live in the Jedi crèche and let my fate be decided there.}
Could that explain why the Jedi took on Ani only after the great Master was killed and not before— as a way to honor Qui-Gon's wish? Why else would they say 'No' one day and 'Yes' practically the next? In my memory, the only factor that seemed to have changed in the short interim— relative to the Jedi— was the tragic passing of Master Jinn in a duel.
A fantastical reasoning which would be so wonderfully perfect if it was real sprung to life. I wanted it to be true more desperately than all the daydreams yet. The situation was still sure to be complicated, but it would be a great deal easier if Anakin Skywalker was an obscure member of the Jedi ranks— one accepted by them as a courtesy offering to the memory of their fallen man. Rays of hope exploded out of my heart faster than I could temper them.
I thought back to our journey in the wagon cruiser on the way to Edum Bloom. When describing their relationship, Anakin bemoaned that Obi-Wan saw him as "a problem he'd inherited." The first part of the complaint could be written off as stereotypical teenage venting, but the second half… inherited.
I suppressed a smile, feeling like I'd cracked a Mandalorian puzzle box. There was no question Anakin had Force abilities— I'd seen their strength with my own eyes when he'd piloted the podracer at the age of nine— but that unique word "inherited" gave all the more credit to this self-indulgent argument that Anakin was taken into the Order to honor Qui-Gon. Why else would he be passed to the fallen warrior's own apprentice?
Whether I was thinking with my brain or my heart, it made sense. The growing hope urged me on with this thread, plainly shutting the door to the possibility that there could've been elements at play I wasn't aware of. Wisdom gained over more than thirteen years of experience evaporated as I dug a tunnel of light for the outcome my quickening heart desired.
In an organization of thousands, it was already possible Anakin was overlooked. But a belated student, one with years of tutelage he needed to catch up on? The Jedi took in their Initiates at as young an age as possible— surely, they didn't see much of an aspiring future for the oldest member they'd ever accepted. Why, a person could even assume Anakin's superiors considered him an afterthought. He'd complained he was ready for the trials to become a Knight— perhaps the delay was yet another example of his low-priority status amongst his brethren?
Dare I guess that in the worst case scenario we should be caught, perhaps the punishments won't even be implemented as severely upon one who is still playing catch up with his peers?
I sunk into a nearby chair and shook my head at this idea. Taking risks on the assumption of mercy was too ambitious even for my fanciful state. But I braved whispering my growing optimism out loud into the quiet of my room, its fragility giving way to Baskar steel strength. "Oh, Anakin," I sighed. "This could work."
Yet in a sudden and piercing moment, a voice in the back of my head desperately broke through, demanding to be heard. It questioned where all this desire and effort was coming from. Why was I thinking about the Jedi's punishments and sneaking around on Coruscant if every logical bone in my body knew this should all cease the moment we left Varykino? Why was I even entertaining the idea of a romance at all? What had happened to the Senator who didn't have time to fall in love?
"No," I quickly replied, drawing in a grated breath as a wall slammed down against the question. This wasn't love. It couldn't be. An attraction we could explore for a short time was something that could be diverting, something enjoyed. It could be a secret leniency taken by a woman who'd finally admitted she'd shunned her personal life for too long.
Love was something else entirely. Love between a Jedi and a Senator went beyond indulgent recklessness. It could transform a few lightweight days or weeks into soul-draining months or years. It would turn our lives into a lie we would have to endure every day. A life like that would be too perilous and forbidden for anyone with an ounce of sanity to want, and even my dizzying mind knew not to ensnare myself that treacherously. What's more, I aspired for marriage and children, eventually— things the handsome and wonderful Anakin Skywalker could never, ever give me.
I could not love Anakin. I could not guarantee my own heartbreak like that.
{We are taught to love others, but not to get attached to them.}
I latched on to that statement, ardently buying Anakin's words now much more than I had when I'd heard them at the breakfast table. I'd never been in love before— hadn't ever allowed myself the time— but I knew even from a distance that you cannot put an end time on love like setting an alarm clock. Whatever we were about to embark on would be risky— perhaps to the point it should definitively end the moment we left Varykino's ground, regardless of how soon Obi-Wan's call came; that was something that should be decided tonight— but it would have to end.
Before it got in the way of us performing our duties. Before attachment. Most certainly, before love.
I shook my head again, unknowingly pulling the invisible execution hood down until its folds bundled around my neck.
He can't love me. His feelings seem to be strong, but he knows better. He knows such a future cannot be.
My resolute faith in Anakin was both our most blinding weakness and most powerful, enduring strength.
In an ironic way, I wryly mused to myself, Anakin being a Jedi makes him the perfect suitor to dally with. Time would never be on any relationship's side. My attentions on my career wouldn't be distracted for long. A full-blown relationship with any other man would draw attention from the HoloNet, something I would loathe. So long as he was an overlooked student of the Jedi— which my carefully crafted evidence seemed to point to— we might be able to find happiness with each other for a short time. Certainly, here— in the privacy of Varykino and its surrounding terrain— we could behave honestly throughout the rest of our hiding. Maybe, maybe we could explore avenues on Coruscant until the day came for us to go our separate ways.
Who knows? My vixen pondered. If I'm still unattached to anyone in a year, Anakin has become a Knight, and I'm in need of a Jedi escort off-planet, I might request his presence…
These fantasies were going to be the death of me.
However much time we could steal to explore this attraction, the fact that my most line-crossing fantasies wouldn't come true was as disheartening as it was inflexible. For my own personal reasons, I'd long ago decided I wouldn't voyage into the most intimate of physical relations unless love was established between my partner and I first. As much as my body came alive in Anakin's presence, I knew I would hold true to my decision. I would not forfeit for him, no matter the temptation. But my connection to Anakin went far beyond just the physical; exploring it within those personal boundaries would be enough. But, Gods, it would be nice to be able to kiss him freely— especially here, where we could do so in relatively easy seclusion.
"Yes," I prayed, an optimistic woman perched on her rickety chair high above reality. "This might work."
My field of idealism shone brightly under its heavenly sun of certainty. Under such a blinding radiance, I can almost forgive myself for not seeing the blaze of the approaching torch.
I'd already picked out the black gown well in advance, but I hadn't taken into account just how much the leather corset would clench my waist. It was appropriate to the theme, though. Anakin already took my breath away with regularity— what was a little more asphyxiation?
My straightened hair had become wavy in awkward, uneven spots while I slept; I put it into an elegant, twisting braid down my back to kill time. Black gloves which reached near to my shoulders but left my fingers bare hid the skin of my arms. My skirt trailed behind me in enticing fashion, with hints of white fabric crisscrossing underneath the sheer black material. A choker— mercifully, lightweight— stretched all the way down the front of the dress to just above my heeled feet.
I stood in front of the mirror and decided not to think of what my father's reaction to this dress would be.
I wasn't self-conscious about the amount of skin the ensemble displayed above my breasts, but I wanted to leave the reveal as a private surprise for Anakin. With that in mind, I donned the feathered shawl Dormé had used as an excuse for the dress in our last holocall. Now only the skin of my face, neck, top of my collarbone, and fingers were visible. As my thoughts drifted to my handmaiden, I gazed at my reflection and smiled softly. I wished I could've sent her a picture, but of course, that was out of the question. Such an act would also feel highly insensitive given what she was currently doing on Coruscant in my place. But there was an urge there, to pour my feelings out to a friend or sister over what novelty experience I was going through. Forbidden attraction. A handsome and doting young man I was finally willing to talk about. As much as I wanted this evening with Anakin, there was a part of me which lamented I could not live out a new fantasy, one entirely apart from the illicit breed. In it, I imagined curling up on a couch with a sisterly friend, glasses of Alderaani wine in hand as we picked over the past few days in between girlish squeals and poignant pauses, wherein I would listen to sage advice catered to the situation as best the other speaker could offer it. Unfortunately, all I could do instead was flex my bias and pretend Dormé and Sola's excited approval.
I wonder, now, if I had such a person to confide in during those days on Varykino, would my thoughts have runaway as far and as quickly as they did? How much of my isolation from those in my emotional circle played right into Fate's hands?
Even though I wore confidence like a crown, I did feel a slight fluttering of adrenaline as I smoothed my hands over my leathered hips. To have nerves was quite an amazing thing, given Anakin technically saw much more skin than this when I wore the ombre gown, and even the cinched dress I wore to my parents.
"It's the presentation," I mused, smiling knowingly as I put a twin chrome pieces into my hair across my forehead.
I ran my final thoughts over in my mind like I was preparing for a speech in the Senate. What I was most concerned about was confirming— even emphasizing— with Anakin this notion that he wasn't a member who drew much attention in the going-ons of Jedi. I sincerely didn't want to set off his insecurities, as I suspected how much my opinion mattered to him. He liked impressing me. I would have to tread carefully, but a great deal of my confidence that anything could survive away from Varykino— if we even decided to go that far— rested on the presumption that Anakin didn't have a lot of heads turning his way back on Coruscant.
I was putting away my lipstick after a careful reapplication when I finally heard a timid knock.
I gauged my reflection in the mirror one last time. Satisfied, I went to the door. Taking a deep breath, I opened it, sensing and hoping this would be the first of many proverbial doors opened tonight.
Anakin looked as dashing as ever in his brown robes and black tabbard. I'd been right immediately— I didn't need a corset to take my breath away. Anakin did that all on his own.
His wide eyes scanned my form from top to hidden toe. At long last, a wide and dazzling smile graced his features. "That dress," he paused to swallow, and I could hear the dryness in his throat. He cleared it gruffly. "Stunning. You look stunning."
"Thank you," I responded, unable to suppress a smile at his flustered state. If I could only send Dormé one picture, perhaps it would need to be of Anakin's reaction to her selection.
The young man was shaking his head. "Do all Senators dress like you at home?"
I blinked, a little taken aback by the question. "Um. I don't know. You'll have to tell me after you're assigned to protection details with other Senators."
Anakin's cheeks flushed with embarrassment. I gathered he wasn't much impressed with his question, either. In recovery, he wisely stayed silent as he extended a bent elbow out. I took it smoothly and let him lead me into the hallway towards dinner.
"It almost feels strange to sit at a table again," Ani muttered as we took our seats in the round room. He peeked up at me shyly. "Considering, well, we haven't eaten at one since before…" He suddenly froze as realization dawned on both of us.
I smiled at him sweetly, touched by his sensitivity, however belated it was. "It's alright. You can say it. We haven't eaten at a table since before Cordé's funeral." My eyes scanned around the room as Nandi and Teckla emerged from under the awning with pitchers for our glasses. So much had changed since our breakfast with Brother Luke in this beautiful space.
As I looked to my left, I first voiced gratitude to Teckla as she poured the clear liquid into my tall cup, but then my eyes drifted beyond her to the sight of the water shimmering off the nearby landing. Sunset had touched Varykino again, and it was magnificent. Plump clouds skimmed over the tops of the rose-tinged mountains, and the light coming through the grand windows gave an ethereal air to the room.
I shifted my gaze back to Anakin and smiled wider. "It's going to be another beautiful evening."
To my surprise, he seemed to be stifling a laugh. I rose a questioning eyebrow, and he waved a hand in front of his face. "I'm sorry, I was just thinking about—" His eyes jumped up to land on the resort waitresses, but they had already turned their backs to us and were leaving to retrieve the first round of our meal.
"What?" I pressed, already laughing with him though I didn't know what at.
He eyed me playfully. "Are you sure you're a politician?"
My smile sunk down into a frown. This again? "Last time I checked."
Anakin rushed to soothe his clumsiness. "No, no, I just mean. You—" He looked back to the archway, as if now hoping Nandi and Teckla would return and save him from my inquiry. When they didn't, he begrudgingly offered, "All the politicians I have ever seen are usually, well— old, for starters. Pale. Wrinkled. But almost all of them, even the younger ones, are, well," he bit his lip in a mock show of remorse, but his shamelessness came through all the same. "Round. But you—" Anakin gazed at me more appreciatively. "You, well," he sighed. "You aren't only in truly impressive shape, you have quite a defined abdomen. For a Senator, I mean."
My jaw dropped open as I half-laughed, half-exhaled in surprise. It was not a dissimilar reenactment of my response to his first remark when we'd reunited on Coruscant.
I ultimately gave into the full laugh and shook my head at him. "I think there was a compliment in there… somewhere."
Anakin nodded with new confidence. "There most certainly was."
I blushed, and our sunset dinner commenced.
My nerves returned a little more tangibly as our meal wound down, but it was one of the most delightful if heart-pounding dinners I'd had in my life to date. Anakin had an indescribable effect on me— I could both feel calm and at peace in his presence while simultaneously grappling with a pounding adrenaline. But conversation flowed exceedingly easily with him. He asked questions about my political endeavors over the past years which hadn't already been inquired about, and we had fun figuring out when we'd unknowingly nearly crossed paths in the past decade. The Republic was a very large meeting ground, but it seemed in a couple occasions, Anakin and I had been within days or even hours of seeing each other. As usual, I was surprised by how much he knew about my work and movements over the past ten years. Mostly, though, I kept circling the conversation back to his exploits as a Jedi Padawan, finding many of his tales far more exciting than my own procedural ones. I marveled at his prowess as a storyteller and felt captivated by the details he shared of the heroics by Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker— especially a situation with a nest of Gundarks. It seemed the Padawan very bravely saved his Masters life, although, even I could tell there was more than a hint of embellishment in the account.
Currently, he was regaling me with one of his adventures with his master during a Mid Rim disagreement. Nandi approached his side of the table with a plate of fruit— our dessert— and set it down at his side. My own assortment of fruit was already stationed on my end.
"And when I got to them, we went into, ah, aggressive negotiations," He looked up at Nandi. She rather obviously flashed him her stunning smile. He didn't seem to notice. "Thank you—"
"Aggressive negotiations?" I asked, puzzled. "What's that?"
"Ah, well." He grinned and paused for dramatic effect. "Negotiations with a lightsaber."
"Oh." I giggled at the phrase with growing understanding. The shuura on my plate, however, drew my attention. I picked up my fork and knife to cut into it but stilled as the entire fruit swiftly levitated right off my plate.
Following its trajectory, a smile blossomed on my face as my dessert flew right into Anakin's expectant hand.
I didn't protest. I only watched with amazed pleasure. I'd been flirted with before, but never like this. Whichever man came after Anakin in my life would have a terrible time filling his shoes.
The flirt with the Force on his side lifted his own utensils and made to cut into my stolen treat. "If Master Obi-Wan caught me doing this he'd be very grumpy." The look on Anakin's face showed how much he cared about this.
I watched him, fascinated, but I suddenly didn't care whether he had any intention of giving me my fruit back. The idea of there being a "next man" touching my heart after Anakin and I bade each other farewell— however much the time in between such men would span— seemed painful. Even unnatural.
I don't want there to be anyone else.
I hushed the voice in my heart with a hint of panic, sucking in breath as I did so. Anakin was a Jedi, and there was a future I wanted for myself. To declare this to be the only instance I allowed romantic connection going forward was to resign myself to a future without marriage, children— not to mention the pure and simple ability to hold my lover's hand in public.
This isn't love. It hasn't gone that far. No one falls in love that quickly, and if I had—
I pushed such grave thoughts away as Anakin's play came to its last act. With a look of concentration on his face that would make one think he was lifting a starship, he delicately moved the slice he'd cut back up into the table's atmosphere. It was his super-serious demeanor over a piece of fruit more than anything that brought my smile to the forefront again, and I was giggling once more as I poked my fork out into the air like a spear. It sunk into the shuura with a satisfying sound, and I laughed again as I brought the end piece to my mouth.
As I chewed a quick but clear look of disappointment flashed across Anakin's face. It suddenly struck me that he might've wanted to feed me the shuura directly. But the last thing I desired was to give the impression of womanly beauty in this dress only to be fishing the fruit out of the air while it collided with my teeth. I trusted his levitation skills, but a few aerial misunderstandings and the juice might've been dribbling down my chin and onto my gown.
Anakin was already smiling again, though, and looking at me under those lashes with eyes that spoke of so much worship and longing that I almost put my fork down and admitted my own feelings on the spot. However, Nandi and Teckla were still hovering around, and their continued appreciation of Anakin's handsome features apparently hadn't faded. The privacy of the library was still the best choice for our conversation.
The both of us ate from our fruit plates, but sparingly now. I think we each knew the moment of our grownup, revealing talk was growing near, and we alternated between shy smiles and awkward laughter. There were a few more instances when Anakin continued using the Force to flirt, and I protested with mock-outrage as I chased slices of shuura around my plate which he continued to move.
Looking back, I treasure these ignorant, blithe moments of youthful nervousness. Although there was nothing simple about my having feelings for a Jedi at one of the busiest, most trying times of my career, in a way, this was the last hour my life was ever… simple.
A girl having one last dinner with a boy.
Finally, we'd cleared enough of our plates to excuse our departure from the table. Twitching full lips spoke first. "If you're ready to…" His voice trailed off. Ani's obvious nerves made him even more endearing.
It brought a surprising state of calm over me. "I am."
He let out a short exhale. "Would you like to— would you care to—" He extended an arm towards the rear exit, language failing him.
I stepped in to help. "Shall we retire to the library?"
He nodded exuberantly. "Perfect."
We said goodnight to our serving maids and made for the door. Actually standing up to leave made the entire enterprise very real in a way it hadn't been. I reminded myself to taper expectations, but my heart thundered and my throat grew tight as we walked to our destination. I've given many speeches to thousands of beings, but I swear, I'd never been more nervous than during that quiet stroll through Varykino's hallways.
Anakin stood to the side and let me enter through the doorway first. The library was one of my favorite rooms in the lodge. It didn't actually house any books, but it was where my family and I traditionally went to read from stories or news articles on our datapads. There was a red rug embezzled with gold designs between the parallel couches, and I used to lay on that mat as a child and read for hours.
The fireplace blazed at us in inviting welcome. It was the only source of light in the room. I could have turned on the ambient globes higher in the ceiling but chose not to. I preferred the sensual ambiance given by the fire.
"I like this room," Anakin announced, eyeing me even as he walked through the space. "If I ever had a home outside the Jedi Temple, I would want a room just like this one."
I smiled, resisting the urge to remind him he could consider Varykino his home as long as we were here. It wasn't necessary to do so. He knew.
I walked past him and quietly took a seat on the couch to our right. I expected Anakin to join me, but he surprised me by walking to stand directly in front of the fireplace. He stared into the flames as if hypnotized by them. I gazed at his dramatic outline, hypnotized myself.
He grabbed his hands behind his back as he took a shoulder-width stance. I nestled myself further into the red cushions as much as I comfortably could while retaining my posture. The constricting corset was a great help in that regard. A poignant silence fell between us and the mood in the room noticeably shifted. For a brief time, the only sounds were the licks of the fire.
"Padmé," Anakin breathed, his focus still lost in the flames. "There's something I would like to tell you. Well, many things." He paused and sighed heavily. "But we should begin with this first."
I did my best to read his mood. In none of my imaginings of how this scene would play out tonight did I ever imagine Anakin looking so… sad.
"I would like to hear what you have to say, Ani."
I really, truly did.
He took a big gulp of air, and then— as if he'd passed through a door— an atmosphere of calm confidence became him. "I'd like to tell you about my father."
This I did not expect. My mind blanked for a moment. I hadn't forgotten the taboo nature of the topic of the paternal Skywalker, but abruptly felt like I was digging through a pile of interests to reach that previous desire to know more about him.
Anakin peeked a look at me, and I had the peace of mind to nod at him without betraying my surprise.
"I, um," he exhaled in a sudden rush of air as he gazed back towards the hearth. "I didn't have one."
I sighed. I'd presumed as much, and my heart went out to him. "He died before you were born?"
"No." His face turned in order to look at me steadily; half of it was encased in shadow, the other in red glow. "I didn't have one."
Something about his delivery of the words hinted that I should search for further subtext. The notion of taking his statement literally wasn't even a thought. Yet. "I don't understand."
Anakin's eyes scanned over my face. "My mother became pregnant without laying with a man. There was no father."
I wanted for the punchline. Surely, this had to be an odd joke. The eeriness of his intense expression clashed with any excuse of humor. "She was… I'm sorry. I don't understand what you're saying, Ani."
Anakin abandoned his stance by the fire and came to sit next to me on the couch. He may as well have been carrying a torch he'd lit in the hearth, for what he said next turned my entire galaxy upside down and set my wishful field ablaze.
"There's a prophecy of a chosen one. Jedi mystics, long ago— when they were still in practice— prophesied that one would be born who would bring balance to the Force. When Master Qui-Gon found me, he believed he found that person."
I opened my mouth to speak but no words came out. "Prophecy?" I repeated, aghast. "Jedi mystics?" I'd never heard of such a thing.
"They were disbanded," Anakin explained, or at least, tried to. He was watching me warily. "The Jedi didn't think it was a good idea to be peering into the future— they thought it might be a path to the dark side. But one of their prophecies has endured."
Dark side? "And this 'chosen one'," I echoed slowly, trying to latch onto the facts he was attempting to offer me. "This person will bring—"
"Balance to the Force," Anakin finished.
I looked at him then in open shock. I studied his armpits, as if expecting weight scales to fall out from under his tunic. "Is it out of balance?"
Anakin sighed. "Well, that's a whole nother conversation, but do you remember when Qui-Gon fought—"
"Qui-Gon!" I interrupted without remorse. He was a person who'd lived and breathed and counseled me, not like one of these Jedi mystics Anakin had spoken about. I bore my eyes into his. "He believed this?"
He nodded, a smile tugging up at his lips. "It's why he brought me before the Council when I was a boy."
Anakin's smile faltered as I continued to gape back at him wordlessly. Finally, I remembered my capacity to speak Basic. "I need," I shook my head, still dumbfounded. "I need more information, Ani." My analytical brain yearned for facts like a dehydrated Gungan begging for water. I was at home in the world of facts— right now, I could use them to figure out if the man I'd been in isolation with the past several days was insane.
Though it trembled, he took my hand in his. Instead of giving me what I wanted, he whispered, "I'm the chosen one, Padmé. I'm faster and smarter than every other Padawan, and even many of the Masters." Of all the things to be distracted by, I gave him a reproachful glare for his blatant arrogance. He paid my response no heed. "Qui-Gon called it a vergence in the Force."
"From information he received from your mother?" I hadn't meant for there to be an edge to my tone.
Detecting it, Anakin seemed to still. "Yes."
"Your mother told you both this? That you didn't have a father?" He nodded evenly. "And you believed her?"
"Of course I did. She's my mother." He looked at me with naked annoyance, even contempt.
"Ani," I soothed, not wanting to offend but not seeing how I couldn't say what I was about to say. "Forgive me, but… Your mother, she was in a very destitute position. Maybe something happened to her, and she didn't want to tell you the truth, she didn't want to hurt you—"
"No," he breathed, shaking his head at my eyes filled with pity. He snatched his hand back. "It didn't happen like that."
A strained silence fell between us. He looked into the fire as he controlled his breathing. I looked at him until he did.
"I asked her who my father was as I was growing up. I wasn't an idiot. I realized early on there was a missing part of our equation that most others had. She avoided my questions for a few years until she finally told me the truth."
I wrestled with this information despite his obvious commitment to it. I couldn't rely on stories I wasn't able to confirm. But there was one thing I could ask about.
{My midi-chlorian count registered high enough to land me on their radar, but nothing notable enough for them to push hard for my recruitment. My blood test came back just barely on the line.}
"How high is your midi-chlorian count?"
Anakin gaze traveled to meet mine again. He took in the mixture of fear and solemnity on my face and saw it for what it was— the first, tiny crack of accepting what he was telling me. "Over 25,000."
But I hadn't asked the right question. "I don't know what that means. Is that average? Gauge that against someone else's— against Qui-Gon's, against Obi-Wan's, someone I would know of."
There was a glint to his eye. He was proud of whatever he was about to say. "It's higher than Master Yoda's."
Even I, someone who knew even less about the Jedi than she'd thought, understood the gravity of a comparison such as this.
{The very oldest Initiate to be accepted into the Order in its history. He was just five.}
{No. Another was nine.}
Brother Luke's shock and immediate disbelief after Anakin's counterclaim filtered itself through a brand new perspective. For the first time, I contemplated that maybe the Jedi accepted Anakin so late not because he didn't have potential… but because of how much he did.
One million pieces clicked into place at once, each of their snaps ricocheting a painful fissure through my heart. Flattening truths stared me in the face. Perhaps there had been hope for Anakin and I to have an under-the-radar liaison if he was an obscurity amid the Jedi ranks, one in their thousands of members. If only he had been another run-of-the-mill Jedi, one no one took a second look at, one who had come into their fold so belatedly that he couldn't amount to much importance.
Oh, Gods, how drastically wrong I was.
I stared at Anakin as if I didn't know him, as if he were a stranger. "How could you not tell me this? I asked you about your father."
Blue eyes I thought I knew so well immediately became apologetic. His voice became quiet, like a little boy's. "I didn't want you to look at me differently. I've been mocked and teased by other Padawans since I came to the Temple and word got out about me." He avoided my gaze and stared once more into the fire. "There were questions when a nine-year-old was admitted to the Order. It had never happened before, and every Jedi wanted to know why I was an exception. The exception." Anakin looked at me with pained eyes, and it broke me that this was how I recognized the Ani I knew once again. "I've been looked at differently by Knights and Masters for ten years. Some of them with awe, but others…" His eyes pierced through me, willing me to understand. "It's ostracized me, isolated me, amongst those who were supposed to be my new family. I didn't want you to look at me the same way— like I was something to laugh at or to fear."
I called on every scrutinizing instinct I had in order to read his face. "You really believe it's true, don't you?" But even before I finished asking the question I knew my answer. My impression of Anakin was of someone who wanted inclusion, respect, and appreciation. He wanted to belong. He would not have manufactured this prophecy himself. He would not have lived with it this many years, nor this personally and intimately— facing the judgment of other Jedi— unless he had already separated fact from fiction. If he did not take it so seriously, he would not have waited to share it with me until now, when I had earned his trust.
"I do."
My stomach churned and the room spun. All the evidence I'd put together laughed in my face as it repurposed itself to fit this completely opposite narrative. I struggled to accept it, until it registered that I'd had my own front row seat to confirmation before I'd even known to request it.
I stared at him with incredulous eyes. "The óma willa?"
Anakin nodded as he regarded me intensely. "I think they knew." He chuckled nervously with false lightness. "I almost told you then."
I looked past him into the dim room beyond his shoulder. Air escaped my lungs in a sudden rush as I realized it didn't even matter if his prophecy was true. The Jedi Council, Yoda, Obi-Wan— if they even suspected it might have truth to it, he would be watched under a microscope.
And if this prophecy was true? …Anakin's importance to the galaxy at large was far greater than any contribution I could ever have as a Senator. If I lived by my oaths to see callings to public service and duty as paramount, I had to step aside and let Anakin's future play out unobstructed. I didn't know what his prophecy meant; mystical oracles were far outside of my league. I hadn't the faintest idea how the Force worked, but I knew enough to comprehend that if Anakin's destiny was so influential it had been forecasted thousands of years in advance, his obligation to whatever was to come significantly outweighed our feelings for each other. I could not distract him from his future. I could not distract him from his destiny. Everything between us had to stop. Now.
I closed my eyes and fought back the pressure of tears, silently mourning the death of a dream I didn't realize till this second how badly I'd wanted. Since the very first moment I'd felt a stirring for Anakin, I'd just wanted to be a girl and him to just be a boy. But the fantasies were well and truly over.
"Alright," I shakily whispered. I licked my dry lips and tried to speak with a stronger voice. "I believe you."
Anakin broke out into a relieved smile, but I wasn't looking at him. I could see the face of Shmi Skywalker, the mother who'd engineered his freedom to leave Tatooine with the Jedi— not with me. I could see the face of Qui-Gon Jinn, the man who honored her sacrifice and made it his own. I could not tamper with forces I did not understand and risk undermining what they'd done. Who knows what ripple effects our actions at present might have on his future?
My heart seized. I didn't know how much I'd been desperately holding on to the idea of time with him in our remaining minutes on Varykino until they were suddenly gone from my grasp.
I felt moisture on my back and realized I was beginning to sweat. The heat of the fire, paired with the leather corset and thick shawl, had caused my body temperature to rise to an uncomfortable degree. I jerked my fingers up to undo the fastening at the front of my wrap.
Anakin watched me as I fumbled with the clasp. I'd envisioned removing the shawl with intimate slowness, not with clumsy urgency. When it refused to surrender, I finally gave up and resigned myself to the heat.
"What did you want to talk about?"
I looked down at my bare fingers in my lap. "It doesn't matter."
"I think it does, Padmé."
I looked up and met his gaze. Blue eyes searched mine feverishly. He still wanted me to look at him and see a human being, not a prophecy. It was unnervingly similar to when he implored me to see him as a person instead of as a slave. But this was not a freedom that could be engineered. Anakin wanted to be Jedi.
He scooted in closer on the couch. I watched as his fingers rose to gently push my long, collared necklace to the side and went to drawn-out work on the clasp in my stead. His eyes continuously met mine while his nimble fingers slowly outdid the intricacies of the stubborn mechanism. Finally, I closed my lids least he see the longing in my eyes.
My head had swum with physical fantasies earlier, disguising the harsh reality which now burned me a second time. I wanted so much more with this man than stolen kisses. I wanted his time, his attention, his company, his… compassion. And here, as Anakin undid my shawl like he had in so many of my lustful daydreams, all my body ached for was emotional release. I cared about him far greater than I'd admitted in the privacy of my bedroom, and yet instead of feeling saved from the heartbreak of removing myself from our entanglement at a later date, I only wanted to grieve the lost experience.
"I think it matters," Anakin whispered, and his voice was so near, and I could feel his breath on my cheek. Behind my still-closed eyes, it faintly registered that he'd undone the clasp and was now fluidly drawing the shawl away from my shoulders. I heard his breath hitch as my exposed flesh came into full view. I opened my eyes and was met with the cobalt fire of his. "Won't you tell me?" He put the wrap on the back of the couch, where it promptly slid off and audibly landed in a heap on the floor. We didn't care. Gods, I wanted to forget about prophecies and prodigies for one more moment, and so I voluntarily leaned in towards him. An ember from the hearth cracked— the last remnant of my scorched field. Just in time before the most inexcusable kiss of all, I remembered our new reality and pulled away.
As if his Jedi intuition knew that's what I would do, Anakin turned at nearly the same time. But it wasn't long till he recaptured me in his all-consuming gaze.
"From the moment I met you, all those years ago, not a day has gone by when I haven't thought of you." What could have been a heart-melting sentiment was revealed in all its excruciation by the unfiltered pain on his face. "And now that I'm with you again... I'm in agony." The word hung in the air between us like a death sentence. "The closer I get to you, the worse it gets." Rebelling against my own desires, I shifted further away from him on the couch as he spoke, yet the action only seemed to rouse him up more. With both his words and responsive move closer, he came after me despite my pleading stare. "The thought of not being with you— I can't breathe." Searing eyes grazed over me with such heat I was surprised I didn't immediately incur blisters. "I'm haunted by the kiss that you should never have given me."
I winced at the imply of accusation. Maybe Anakin was as aware as I that, between the two of us, I was the one expected to hold the threads of propriety together. But I hadn't asked for my four extra years of maturity any more than he'd asked for a savior's prophecy.
"My heart is beating," I shifted further back, trying to help us, "hoping that that kiss will not become a scar." A kaleidoscope of red shades flickered in Anakin's eyes. We both knew I had no more couch bench with which to retreat. "You are in my very soul… tormenting me."
Anakin was in pain, and I'd caused it. Instead of stomping my foot down and putting a stop to everything like every logical instinct had directed me to earlier in the week, I'd let the ground shake underneath us. I'd become drunk on that blissful feeling I'd experienced on the meadow hill and let that intoxication override every sense since.
"What can I do?" Anakin's breath caught with volcanic emotion. "I will do anything that you ask." The openness of that remark and the vulnerable hope in his eyes frightened me. Would he leave the Order if I said the words?
Oh, Anakin. I want you to kiss me again. I want to say yes to this. I want to rewrite the rules of an archaic system that abhors something as beautiful as how I feel when I look at you.
But there was so much more separating us than there had been just an hour ago before.
My pause had gone on too long. Anakin was looking at me now as if I'd actively chosen to torture him with silence. His expression became more desperate, borderline resentful. "If you are suffering as much as I am, please, tell me."
Of course I was suffering, most unbearably, but for a moment my own anguish took a backseat to his. I fought the urge to lift a soothing hand to his cheek, to smooth away the frown lines as if I could caress our mutual agony away with a touch.
"I can't." I pressed my hands into the sides of my thighs to keep them from reaching out. If I touched him tonight, I wasn't sure I would let go. "We can't, it's— just not possible." I sounded unsure to my own ears. I would have to be stronger.
"Anything is possible, Padmé, listen to me—"
Yes, anything was possible. A girl could just be a girl, but the boy could apparently be a child of mystical prophecy. My sudden, primal frustration and misery at this ludicrous notion launched me to my feet.
"No, you listen!" I stepped away from him, driven by my urgency. "We live in the real world," I spun and proclaimed, rejecting his prophetic delusions for one more desperate second. "Come back to it!"
He flinched. The sight reminded me this prophecy had always been a part of Anakin's world; I couldn't hold it against him now. Despite everything, he seemed to be proud of his abilities and importance. I couldn't take that pride away from him, and I might just do that if I revealed his fabled destiny was the reason we couldn't be anything to each other.
He could not know what I'd desired to enter into prior to his first confession. If he ever found out, he would fight for me with every ounce of passion in his glorious body and aim to rip down all my reasoning. I wasn't sure I could withstand such a targeted emotional onslaught, not when my heart wanted the same thing.
I made my voice quieter, but it only sounded defeated. "You're studying to become a Jedi, I'm—" We were defeated. "I'm a Senator." The plea for logic and practicalities drove my voice into a stiff, patronizing tone. "If you follow your thoughts through to conclusion, they will take us to a place we cannot go. Regardless of the way we feel about each other."
"Then you do feel something!"
Feel something? Feel something?
I stared at him, incredulous.
Had I been the only one in that hut?!
I felt something. I felt everything— that was the problem! If he hadn't known what I'd wanted walking into this room, surely he at least knew I felt something?!
Anakin had to leave his mother in slavery to become a Jedi. How could I ever stand before Shmi and explain that he'd thrown away the past ten years of sacrifice for a woman he hadn't seen in precisely the same amount of years in which he hadn't seen her? Her only child left her arms to follow Qui-Gon Jinn— not to follow me. As if she was sitting right beside him on the couch, I again saw the phantom Shmi Skywalker's beseeching face. I made the promise even more in her honor than in his. "I will not let you give up your future for me."
Anakin stood up, clearly aggravated by how his calm if intense outpouring of adoration had rapidly turned volatile and argumentative. "Believe me, I wish I could just wish away my feelings," he gestured haphazardly with his arms to drive home the point. Was he mocking me? Anakin fixed me with a hard stare. "But I can't."
I almost crumbled under that stare. Was he implying that's what I was doing— that I was capable of just wanting my feelings to go away and making it so? Or… Did he truly wish that for himself? To forget? And why did the idea hurt so much, even if I understood the logic behind it?
I couldn't deny the last several days had happened; I would carry them with me for the rest of my life. This revolutionary awakening would come at the high price of sleepless nights filled with longing and tears for years to come. I had no buyer's remorse, but reality was not on our side. If he couldn't see that, then I had to. "I will not give into this." I'd meant for my voice to sound forceful. A deaf man could've heard the tremor in it.
His eyes burned into me, hot embers searing their way through a sheet that made the actual fire at my back feel like a wall of ice. My vocal quiver had given me away. He knew I didn't want to do this. I had to believe he knew that. But he'd pushed too fast and too hard tonight under too intimidating a scope, and it backed me so perilously into a corner that I'd had no choice but to ban any hope.
I could see clearly that I'd wounded him. The waves of my betrayal reverberated between us.
He turned away from me, and my heart screamed.
I watched him slowly walk away and it took everything in me to not call out. Wait. Stay. Let's fix this. Help me find a way to not lose you.
He was halfway to the door when he stopped. Yes. He'd thought of one last maneuver. "Well, you know, it wouldn't have to be like that." The light from the fire reflected back ominously in his orange-blue pools. His position opposite the hearth cast him anew in a red glow, even as his eyes searched mine with a refreshed hope. I wished, I prayed, that he was about to say the golden way out for us to make the impossible possible.
"We could keep it a secret."
And my heart sank to its knees.
Oh, Anakin. Do n't you know I' ve already thought about that?
When my head had been filled with barriers around my heart as I ran around with an overlooked Jedi, such a life might've been doable. For a short time. But hearing Anakin's outpouring on the couch had done two things:
First, it showed me this was not a man who would be satisfied with capitalizing on our remaining time here at the lodge and bidding an amicable goodbye after— even if we extended our romance to include a few days or weeks more on Coruscant.
And two, I wasn't a woman capable of that, either. I realized I never had been. It took losing Anakin here and now to finally figure that out.
Dormé noticed my attraction to him when it was in its infant stages. Obi-Wan and half my senatorial staff saw it on his end in the first minute he entered my reception area. My mother and sister saw it. I would bet Sabé picked up on something in the fractional time she saw us with each other at the funeral. Comparing those early moments against the strength of how we felt now… such a cover up would be doomed to fail. "We'd be living a lie, one we couldn't keep even if we wanted to."
The couples I'd envied living simple lives who could run in and out of rain-soaked huts were not us. Could never be. We had either already chosen our fates or been chosen by fate— either way, we'd were co-signed to causes bigger than the individual. As much as I wanted to forget every single one of those responsibilities right now and run into his arms. It. Could. Not. Be.
"Could you, Anakin? Could you live like that?"
For a terrifying second, I feared he'd answer 'Yes'. Although I knew it would further break me, I wanted him to say he couldn't live in such a manner. I needed to know he felt as I now did— that a few stolen days or weeks wouldn't be enough to quench the longing burning through our veins and setting fire to our hearts. Even as it would make our situation that much more tragic, I needed to hear again how I wasn't the only one in torment.
His eyes alone gave me one answer to my vocalized question while likewise shaming my other, silent inquiry into retreat for having the audacity to exist. To his massive credit, and to my heart's murder, he gave me both the most reassuring and most slaughtering reply. It was one that told me everything I needed to know about how he felt, as if his words on the couch hadn't been more than enough.
"No. You're right." A nod of acceptance. "It would destroy us." Eyes locked on mine again, boring through me as he further reduced a grown woman to ashes.
I comforted myself by acknowledging I had made Anakin understand. All I wanted to do in my victory was clutch my stomach and cry.
So, naturally, I pulled the Amidala mask on tighter than ever. She'd been biding her time, mostly shoved far, far into the corner of my mind for almost a week, but a week cannot undo a decade's worth of practiced presence. She rushed to the front of the stage like she'd never been pushed off of it. I let her. Padmé was hurting; Amidala was not. "Thank you, Anakin, for seeing reason. Let us now consider the matter decided once and for all."
His eyes widened at my ability to "be" so aloof so quickly. He tried to hide the torture which crossed his face from my view as rapidly as he could, but I witnessed it before he turned away.
When I tell you I look back on this night and loathe myself…
Let's just say, if Anakin and I do end up in the eternal fires of hell, I might throw myself in first.
"Decided," he repeated, as if it was a word in Nabooian he had never heard before. He cleared his throat, then paused. His voice sounded as if he was speaking at a burial. "Goodnight, Padmé."
Amidala wavered in her front stage spotlight. I heard the true meaning behind his words. He wasn't saying good night, per say. He was saying goodbye. He was respecting my wishes and giving up.
I knew I should respond in kind but didn't trust my voice. I could only nod, hoping he would take it as a dismissal.
He did, and after one last look at me, I finally watched Anakin walk out of the room. Thank the gods, for my mask had broken before he'd even turned the corner.
My knees buckled and I collapsed on to the couch, willing myself to stay silent for as long as it would take his stride to put us out of earshot from each other. I knew he wouldn't go too far— even now, even after what I'd done to him, how I'd betrayed us— he was too committed to my protection to ever wander beyond reason. Yet I craved the privacy to grieve.
My face crumpled first. I stared into the fire, but the flames became blurry as tears filled my eyes. I wouldn't let them fall. Not here. The game of suppression had recommenced, and if I started crying now, I wasn't sure I'd stop; I still needed to make it back to my bedroom undetected. In my desperate need for control, my fists clenched into tight balls, and I hit them once, hard, against the plush bench. I continued to fight the urge to curl up on the couch and weep, but it was a moot point— I knew my constricting black wardrobe would never allow it.
How fitting, that after days filled with wearing pastels, warm hues, and generally bright, beautiful colors, I would happen to wear the dark color of mourning the same night as the death of Anakin and me.
I hated that dress suddenly. Hated that it cinched so tightly at my waist and on my lungs, suffocating my need to gasp for shaky breath. I hated how the tight neck piece snaked around my throat like the restrictive collar I'd just shackled us into. It gripped my windpipe like a black glove extending up from my heart to choke me.
I sat there a long time, a fallen princess in her funeral gown. I pretended to look into the fire. Afraid to leave. Afraid to stay. Afraid someone would eventually come looking for me and find me in such a state.
Finally, I calmed my senses closer to what I labeled as rational thought, but perhaps I'd just moved into one of the stages of grief— denial. I told myself this wouldn't be the end of Anakin and I. It would be the single most difficult task of my personal life, but I would try my damnedest for us to remain friends, however much time we required. And if he rejected the notion of friendship, well then… The thought that we didn't move in the same circles wasn't exactly a comfort. But it had taken ten years for us to cross paths again. Taking ten more to heal from this encounter sounded about right. I put my elbows on my knees with my arms up and my forehead fell onto the knuckles of my hand. I sighed sorrowfully, fighting a new wave of disappointment. I clenched my teeth and fought again for my composure.
Who was I kidding. The era when Anakin and I could only be friends was a distant memory— literally. It died the day he smiled at me on the top steps at the victory parade.
I took a rattling breath. The bottom of the corset pinched into my waist unforgivingly.
I won't be able to listen to the sound of rain for a long, long while. And waterfalls. And birds.
At some point or another, I got up and made my way through the villa, completely forgetting my feathered wrap behind the couch. Thankfully, I didn't run into anyone. I was in no mood for explanations or idle chat. I didn't even know what I would say if I passed Anakin, but I yearned to know how he was coping. I'd become accustomed to his presence so promptly, to the point that having him within arm's reach was now instinctual. My heart and mind knew what had happened tonight, but my body didn't understand. It wanted to seek him out and feel alive again. My skin didn't know Anakin as the ache, only as the cure.
I steered myself it into my room and shut the door. Unbecoming of me, I locked it. Not to keep anyone else out, but to put even the silliest of barriers in place to keep me locked in. I worried that if I strayed beyond this door tonight, I'd roam right up to his.
That's when I remembered the entryway that led out to our shared patio. Two large wooden doors framed the curtains beyond my sight. I took two steps forward to close them before coming to a halt. I couldn't bring myself to do it. I couldn't close off the one connection I still had open to him. Standing opposite the corner of the bedroom which held the short pathway leading outside, I could see the tips of the curtains softly billowing in from the wind. If I tried hard enough, could I hallucinate that Anakin would walk through? Take me in his arms, disregard my words, and show me exactly how much he'd thought about me over the years?
I knew he wouldn't. He respected my wishes too much. But while ninety-nine percent of the time that's exactly how I wanted it, tonight, I craved one last disobedience.
I stood in the center of the room and began to strip the dress off unceremoniously. My delicious daydream from just hours ago in which I did not do this alone now mocked me cruelly. I yanked the long gloves off without grace and let them land with a rude slap on the floor. The zipper and buttons, of which I'd fantasized other fingers undoing, suffered instead under my apathetic fingers.
I undid my braid, removed the chrome hair piece, and stepped into the shower. I was arguably still clean enough from the rinse that very morning, but I had ulterior motives for reentering the stall. There, free from my clothing restraints and safe in the knowledge that the sound of running water would drown me out, I washed the ashes out of my hair and skin, and I finally let myself cry. I cried so hard I thought ribs would break right alongside my heart.
(Obi-Wan and Padmédiscussing Anakin at her apartment during ROTS)
She blinked as though he'd slapped her. "Why-that seems . . . unlikely, doesn't it? What about this prophecy the Jedi put so much faith in? Isn't he the chosen one?"
"Very probably. But I have scanned this prophecy; it says only that a chosen one will be born and bring balance to the Force; nowhere does it say he has to be a Jedi."
She blinked harder, fighting down a surge of desperate hope that left her breathless. "He doesn't have to-?"
"My Master, Qui-Gon Jinn, believed that it was the will of the Force that Anakin should be trained as a Jedi-and we all have a certain, oh, I suppose you could call it a Jedi-centric bias. It is a Jedi prophecy, after all."
- Matthew Stover, Revenge of the Sith novelization
A/N: When I sat down to write this fic, one of the big questions I thought about was "How much does Padmé know about Star Wars lore at the time of AOTC? How much about the Jedi and Anakin do weknow and take for granted without thinking about when or if she knows, considering the Jedi weren't known to broadcast their business on billboards?"
To me, it doesn't make any logical sense that Padmé would've been clued in on Ani's prophecy during the events of TPM, but we know from the original script (complete with the deleted scenes- the one above was actually filmed with Ewan and Nat but is sadly still hidden away in the Lucasfilm vaults) and novelization of Revenge of the Sith that she is aware of it by then. That "surge of desperate hope that left her breathless" paired with the cue that triggered it always captivated me.
So, I wondered when it made the most sense for Anakin to have told her about the prophecy. Jarring information like this is often timed with the most dramatic effect- as Star Wars likes to do. With the (deleted) scenes centering around Padmé's family in AOTC, naturally, it would only be a matter of time before the topic of his own family background came up. It's canon that Anakin was teased and even shunned by some of the Jedi for the assumption of prophecy, so I figured he'd hesitate to tell Padmé until Mr. Insecurity felt confident enough to do so. Between her happiness in the meadow, the easy and fun mood during dinner, the come-hither aspect of her dress, the way when we jump to the privacy of the fireside couch it certainly feels like somethingserious was just interrupted (besides another near kiss), plus the way she suddenly puts a full-stop to the romance there when she didn't even do that (at all) after the terrace kiss- him telling her about the prophecy then makes so much sense that now I can't unsee it.
Hopefully, I conveyed a faithful adaptation of how Padmé would process the news, given the timing, her feelings for him, but also her deep commitment to duty.
P.S. Nothing makes me post the next chapter faster than reviews.