A/N: I am continuously floored by the heartfelt, often personal, beautiful reviews and the generous time left to write them, but I must say... I was touched on a whole nother level by these last ones. Thank you so, so much to those who reacted with such kindness towards news about my ill parents. I am pleased to say they both are now okay, save for some leftover and stubborn coughs.

I've said it before, but I have the best reviewers in the galaxy. I read and value every comment, but I'd like to shoutout DS2010, Isabella Ainsworth (have I said yet how THRILLED I am that you made an account?), Kate Skywalker, Meliroxy, and sinking815 for being the absolute best and most consistent review crew an author could hope for. There are many others who routinely leave wonderful thoughts, but these folks are there within hours or short days to chime in, and they have been since we were packing clothes on Coruscant— or even before. Thank you thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Okay. Here we go...

Chapter 35. Before We Die

Give me my Romeo; and, when he shall die,
Take him and cut him out in little stars,
And he will make the face of heaven so fine
That all the world will be in love with night
- William Shakespeare, Romeo & Juliet

"This is impossible."

Sabé met my frown with an amused sigh. "No. You're just not used to coming across something you can't negotiate a treaty with."

I made a face, but then grinned back at her. She had a point.

My near-twin and I were sitting on a stone bench in one of the lush gardens of the royal palace. Next week marked the six-month anniversary of the Battle of Naboo. Instead of graduating his queen and her handmaidens after successfully surviving the hostile events, within weeks, Captain Panaka had only doubled down on our training. After all, what was just cautionary instruction before had proved to be real-world vital. The Head of Security found or made time in my schedule to further develop our self-defense capabilities, in case history ever repeated itself. I offered no objection. I had a sinking suspicion the perilous side of political life was not done with me yet. I wanted to be— just like I wanted the handmaidens sworn to protect me with their lives to be— as prepped as possible.

I was secretly proud of fact I had the best shooting aim of our little tribe; I could more than hold my own with a blaster. I wasn't half-bad in hand-to-hand combat, either— Eirtaé and Rabé had the bruises and deepest apologies from me to show for it. But I continued to struggle with one of the most rudimentary of obstacles. Picking handcuffs.

My five handmaidens could successfully release themselves within one or two minutes, some of them even in seconds. I, however, was far behind the class. Sabé, being the fastest escapee, was currently instructing me on her agile ways. My small wrists were locked into dual cuffs… as they had been for nearly forty minutes. I'd ordered her not to let me out of them no matter how much I struggled— they were staying on until I got myself out.

Saché and Yané ambled near a fountain some meters away, ready to run errands, steer away confused onlookers, or offer encouragement in my tiny battle against the metal links. I think they were growing more nervous the longer this operation took. I was hosting a dinner tonight for those service members who'd run the Trade Federation blockade with us on the royal yacht. If I didn't get myself out of the cuffs, not only would that severely complicate dressing me in tonight's gown, but there would be a lot of puzzled guests at the banquet table.

"You're being too analytical. Don't over think it. Feel your way around. Let the lock unveil itself to you."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at her.

During our lock-picking sessions, we'd all practiced with metal sticks of different sizes and styles. Some curved, some straightened. Some thick, some thin and more malleable. Most of all, we worked with what we knew we would always have around— hair pins.

The poor instrument in my hand had been bent into oblivion. I continued to fiddle and dig into the small opening in the cuff, searching for that evasive click of release.

"It's stubborn," I muttered.

"So are you. Come on, don't give up. We can't have you sitting there looking like a hostage at your own dinner party."

"I'm hosting it in their honor, not mine."

"And as many credits as I'd pay to see you stand up and make your toasting speech with your hands bound," Sabé chuckled. "We should hurry this along. Diplomacy and cooperation work on a lock. Talk to it."

I scrunched my nose while I pulled my clasped wrists up. I peered into the minuscule hole as if all the secrets of the universe hid in there. "Open."

The girl next to me laughed. "Not like that. Talk to it with your intuition. Close your eyes."

I obeyed.

"Work the pin again but don't try to force it. Try to think of it like a current of water, not a stick of metal."

Gradually, my world shrunk to the space existing between my hands. I felt a benign curiosity this time, instead of aggressive annoyance. The knuckles of my thumb and index finger jerked and pushed gently on the pin, but no one was more surprised than me when the lock finally gave and the weight of the cuffs fell away. They slid into an innocent heap in my lap.

Eyes open, I gave Sabé a beaming smile, one that was mirrored back at me. In the background, I saw Saché and Yané breathe epic sighs of relief.

But the perturbed frown returned to my face. "The problem is, I don't know how I did that. It still felt more like luck than skill."

"So we will keep practicing. And you'll get better. And soon you won't need to close your eyes anymore, or need an hour to get free." She couldn't resist a smirk. "Let's hope."

The last thing you want your holding cell on a dry, desert planet to be… is wet.

And sticky.

Just enough ambient light simmered off the walls that I could see the reflections of moist residue on the ground. Stark white, the color of my entire outfit, was not meant for a makeshift jail decorated by mysterious droppings. I hadn't had the happy happenstance to stretch before I ran The Obstacle Course of Death in the factory, and I still felt the effects of the jolt from the pail crashing to the pavilion. As my wait in the dim space extended, I'd folded and sacrificed my thick shawl to the flooring, providing separation between it and my rear when my tired body begged me to sit.

I was in some sort of hovel, being stared down by seven Geonosian guards in the only open archway. Each held a spear in one claw and a gun of some kind in the other. All ends pointed at me. Despite this fanfare, my captors hadn't even bothered with locking me behind bars. The larger design of our imprisonment meant they knew they didn't need to.

Dooku's hired assassin had read Anakin well. My Jedi protector broadcast his fierce investment in my well-being when he furiously shoved a Geonosian warrior up against the wall just for touching me. Short, of mild-to-moderate strength, and weaponless— I wasn't a physical threat to anyone. But an adult Force-user was. Apparently, the Geonosians hadn't counted on housing two Jedi, and Obi-Wan was already occupying whatever method they'd employed to jail him. So they'd used Anakin's need to keep me safe against us. With a lack of superhuman restraints and weary of mind tricks, by the bounty hunter's cunning direction, Anakin and I had been distantly separated with the warning made abundantly clear: If Ani— wherever he was being kept— tried anything, the guns pointed at me would go off first. I had been turned into the bars on his cage.

From my spot on the floor, I wrapped my arms around my shins and heaved a sigh. My chin came to rest on my knees. I hated being separated from Anakin, especially like this.

If I wasn't here, would he have already tried to make his escape? Would he be free and flying out of the atmosphere with Obi-Wan by now?

Of course, if I wasn't here— if I hadn't dragged us away from the safety of the homestead— Anakin never would've been here at all. Try as I might, though, I couldn't regret my decision to attempt rescue for Obi-Wan. I wasn't the kind of person who would sit by and do nothing when I could offer help. But Anakin's death was a gut-wrenching cost to pay for my nobility.

I tried my damnedest to keep my thoughts from drifting to my family. Ultimately, I failed.

{A bodyguard? Oh, Padmé, they didn't tell us it was that serious.}
{It's not, I promise. I'm not in any danger, Mom.}

I felt a strange gratitude that Anakin had called me out and spoken the truth. Although unlikely, maybe my family might be a little less blindsided by what would happen if I failed to convince the Separatists it was in their best interests to let us go. Naive, I know, but it was a loving daughter's only hope.

Sometimes, if only for my parents' sake, I wished I had chosen a normal, quiet life. They were exceedingly proud of me, I knew that. Nevertheless, my ambitious positions had put them through stress since the day I was elected Queen. Dying, for me, wasn't the debilitating fear— but imagining my parents' and sister's grief at learning the news sucked the air from my lungs. Given the morbid alternatives of hearing how their daughter had died— cruiser explosion, Kouhuns, or a gruesome and public execution put on for the enjoyment of her enemies… it would've been better for my family if I'd died quickly on Coruscant.

An incapacitating mental image arose— Sola and Darred, sitting Pooja and Ryoo down to explain why their aunt was never going to visit them again.

I put my forehead on my knees and took shuddering breaths until the pressure behind my eyes retreated.

There's still the trial. I still have time to make the Archduke see reason.

"Trial's over. Time for your verdict."

My gaze shot up to see the Mandalorian-clad figure had come to my prison. He was standing between my seven captors, all of them gripping their spears now with renewed tension. My forehead crumpled inwards as I processed his announcement. "What?"

"You heard me. Let's go."

Righteous indignation flowed and I scrambled to my feet. "How can there have been a trial when I was never able to make my defense?!"

He tilted his helmeted head to the side, and that loathsome voice-box answered, "Oops."

I keenly scanned the spectators of the noisy courtroom. I recognized the oblong face of San Hill, chairman of the Intergalatic Banking Clan. It was hard to miss the stretched, gilded neck of Shu Mai— President of the Commerce Guild. There were Separatist Senators, more Commerce dignitaries, and Wat Tambor of the Techo Union. Some met my stare with blanket glee. Others looked disinterested. None looked sympathetic or concerned as to the significance of what was happening.

I'd been searching for one, just one face I could plead to for sanity. Surely, someone here knew this sham trial and our executions would spark bloodshed on an unfathomable scale. Hadn't the Republic and the Separatists been at the negotiation table for over a year to avoid that?

They want their Confederacy badly, but surely no one champions war if it can yet be averted?

I rose my chin defiantly and refused to look at Nute Gunray. I knew what emotion I'd find on his mold-green face if I wasted my attention on him.

At my side, Anakin stood tense and alert. He was taking in the sight of hundreds of Geonosians cast in shadow in their high audience rows. With their obvious cheers, one would've thought our trial a game show setup to them, the kind I'd seen advertisements of on the Coruscant billboards that floated about the city. I didn't need to understand their language to know what they were calling for. They were impatient for the deaths to begin.

Right on cue, Poggle the Lesser, Archduke of Geonosis, walked to the top of the elevated judgment box. It shared with Anakin and I a substantial ray of blinding sunlight. The crowd grew mad with activity at his appearance.

His insectoid clicks echoed around the chamber with all the style of a speaker used to commanding attention. "You have been charged and found guilty of espionage."

"You're committing an act of war, Archduke." I paused, praying my words would hit their mark. "I hope you're prepared for the consequences."

I'd made my voice loud so that all in the audience would hear me too. If Geonosian leaders didn't fear retribution from the Republic, perhaps fear of their warriors' sudden uncertainty about all this would be enough to stay their hand. For his own reaction, Poggle acted like I'd told him a joke.

"We build weapons, Senator. That is our business. Of course, we're prepared!"

The tiers of spectators buzzed with joyous excitement— excitement, I came to realize, not just for the executions, but for the very outcome that would follow it.

All those negotiations between the Republic and the Separatists to avoid an armed conflict… Had all of it been done in bad faith? A ruse to buy time for their droid army?

Dear Gods. They wanted the conflict. As Senator of Naboo, I was her official representative in galactic matters, holding almost as much power as Queen Jamillia. My decisions were binding. My promising our planet's allegiance to the Confederacy would've been shocking, a huge blow to the Republic, and likely easily swayed more systems to the Separatists side in one fell swoop. But apart from Dooku's lazy attempt to woo me, no one here was even trying for the bloodless route. My execution was to be their horn blow announcing all-out war.

And they knew it.

"Get on with it! Carry out the sentence. I want to see her suffer!"

My eyes finally, unwillingly, looked at Viceroy Nute Gunray. He had never forgiven or forgotten the fact that a fourteen-year-old slip of a human girl got the upper hand on him in that throne room.

The Archduke gave us one last goodbye before waving us out. "Your Jedi friend is waiting for you, Senator."

Anakin and I turned as sharp spears appeared behind us. We were being ushered from the chamber to meet our fates. No more chances to reason or appeal. It was over.

But I kept my chin high even as my heart broke for the man beginning the dark walk with me. We were about to die heroes' deaths— never caving, never forsaking the noble institutions which had brought us to this point. It gave me cold comfort; I suddenly couldn't get my nieces faces out of my head. Even still, I began to soak in every remaining second of Ani's presence. My whole world reduced to memorizing the way his boots met the sandy path. There was the barely distinguishable sound of his leather tabbard rubbing against the fabric of his outer tunic. I strained my ears to hear his breath. I could tell when it switched from flowing from his nose to through his lips— I would eagerly deny any last rite of a meal to taste them again instead. We trailed silently next to each other through a maze of tunnels, threatening spears on all sides. The weight of things unsaid began to settle on my shoulders.

For all the devastation our relationship brought to the galaxy, and all the lives lost in its domino effect, there's great irony that Anakin and I were only ever brought to a courtroom not for the ultimate crimes that would damn us, but for the idealist values which redeemed us.

"Don't be afraid."

I should've suspected Anakin never believed we were meeting our death in that arena, even as we were being handcuffed to an execution cart. There was a pacifying confidence to his tone like all this was just another day at the office for him. It probably was, given his colorful history as a Jedi apprentice and the number of near-deaths he and Obi-Wan had already escaped. There was also a forecast of visions the Force had promised him over his life which had yet to come true. But I lacked this precognition insurance. Facing insurmountable odds and with all of my diplomatic muscle exhausted, I stood beside him cloaked in pessimistic shadow.

And so I loved him all the more for his optimism; the destiny which would be set after these next moments was dependent on the fact that I didn't share in it. Closed hope opened my mouth and cemented my part in liberating ruin.

"I'm not afraid to die."

I had been afraid to live.

Death and I shook peaceful hands years ago when I was head-of-state for an invaded planet. But fear had been the engine and driver behind almost every choice I'd recently made. A former wartime queen, living in terror of whatever seconds wait on the other side of confessing her feelings to the man she loved. I had the abrasions on my heart to prove it.

"I've been dying a little bit each day since you came back into my life."

Concerned eyes showcased Anakin's full attention. His forehead was pinching as he clearly struggled to understand. "What are you talking about?"

"I love you."

And with those three words out of my mouth, Fate finally took an accomplished rest.

"You love me?"

The surge of sparkling wonder in Anakin's eyes caused crushing regret for not having admitted my truth sooner. I would've fought a war for control of Time— just to go back and tell him a million times more before this moment, if only to see his face brighten like that again and again.

But his ecstasy was drowned before the corners of his parted lips had a chance to rise. I watched as disbelief and distrust took hold. It only pained me more to realize he questioned whether he was yet again the victim of my back-and-forth games.

Did Fate know it, then? That both the very first and last time I would ever tell Anakin I loved him, there would be tears in my eyes?

That these words excavated from my soul would be met with his disbelief?

Anakin was looking down at his hands, and all I wanted was for him to look at me— to see the love and remorse I knew was written all over my face. He swallowed, and his voice shook. "I thought that we had decided not to fall in love."

Decided. If there was anything I had absorbed over the past several days, it was that the mind speaks a language the heart does not care to learn.

"That we would be forced to live a lie, and that it would destroy our lives."

His weary accusation threw skepticism at my sincerity. Awareness dawned, and I mourned again. The clean-handed Anakin who existed before the Tusken camp would've accepted my news into his heart without resistance. But this was a freshly scarred man. He'd more recently buried his mother than slept. Microscopic sand from Shmi's grave still clung to the cloth at his knees. His reluctance to believe my admission stemmed from fear to trust in a universe so soon after it had turned against him.

Unfortunately, an execution cart was a poor place to remind him of its virtues.

"I think our lives are about to be destroyed anyway."

I wasn't trying to be humorous. I was a refugee finding sanctuary in a home minutes before it was to be demolished.

I discovered I was leaning into his gravity when I began to feel opposition on my wrists from the cuffs. Even as my eyes blurred, I rejoiced as I realized Anakin was matching my petition for nearness. "I truly… deeply… love you." I devoted my eyes to his mouth before lifting them to meet his, making my want unequivocally clear. We were slowly meeting in the middle, as was our established way. My voice cracked under the magnitude of emotion I'd barricaded in. "And before we die, I want you to know."

Something subtly shifted in Anakin's features. Walls were falling fast and that trademark vulnerability emerging. He'd been coming to me in hesitated movement, but, at last, belief softened his face. He fluidly reached to touch in an excruciatingly tender kiss.

I closed my eyes, and for the briefest of seconds, I chose to believe we were once more on Varykino's terrace. Just a girl. Just a beautiful boy. Nothing and no one else existing in the galaxy.

But the driver of the wagon chose that exact moment to corral the attached beasts forward, and the execution carriage lurched into action. It was only a few moments longer that Anakin and I were able to sustain our kiss before the momentum of the ride ruptured it.

I opened my eyes to take in majesty of his close visage. Such a face deserves its own distinction amongst the constellations.

That was when I realized, yet again, that I had been wrong.

I'd already corrected myself once— our love story had not begun with raging words in a dim garage. But neither did it start next to an eavesdropping fire in an even darker lakeside library.

Beautiful. Grown up. Compassion. Unconditional love. Soft. Smooth. Hoping. Go with you.

The loudly vocal Senate Rotunda is an orchestra composed of thousands, but the melody formed between two people is worthy instrumental music all its own. Its flutes are looks; its harps, touches. Longing is the rhythm. Passion the crescendo.

Like a ballad composed with a multitude of notes, our love story flowed into being under the sunny sky of a picnic field. In the tight grip of a supportive hand relied on in grief. On a floral balustrade, where Anakin breached preached rules to obey cosmic law. On the day he stepped in front of Obi-Wan and back into my life. On the afternoon I walked into a junk shop, and he inquired if I was an angel.

None other than Fate was our symphony's conductor. It first raised its baton the moment a newborn boy breathed air in the same galaxy as a soul waiting for him across the stars.

Anakin and I stared into each other's eyes, communicating all the things we'd run out of time to express. Joy. Regret. Above all, love.

Peace settled within me. I turned my face towards the sunlit arena to face my fate.

The allure of entertainment through our deaths had brought tens of thousands of Geonosians to the Petranaki arena. They filled the giant stadium with many latecomers still flying in over the mountainous walls. Whether following tradition or his sick desire to further rally the crowd, the driver of our cart made a grotesque display of steering us round the curved perimeter. Wings literally buzzed with anticipation, only increasing in vibration as we traveled nearer to four sandstone pillars.

Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi stood before the first column, his arms secured above his head by a long snake of a silver chain. He seemed physically unhurt, yet he could not have exuded more how unimpressed he was by our arrival.

Admittedly, I didn't spare many seconds to look at him. I was distracted by the scratches and holes in the other pillars, where our hands, too, would be pinned above our…

Pinned.

Pin.

Hair pin!

In a moment so divine the gods must have designed it, I thought those two words the same second my eyes flashed to the luxury box emanating from a top level of the arena. It appeared empty now, but I knew it was only a matter of time before that balcony filled with familiar faces clamoring to see my demise.

And, to put it plainly, something in me just... snapped.

Credit it to the sight of Obi-Wan shackled to an execution pillar— this good man who'd once aided Naboo at her time of crisis and was only out here because he'd investigated attacks on my behalf.

Blame it on exhaustion I still felt in my bones from battling the Military Creation Act for a year— the late nights it drained, the members of my staff murdered, the lost time with Pooja and Ryoo that'll never be restored. And for what? To have peace offered as a distraction on a string while they literally built an army behind their backs?

And oh, do blame it on that sudden rush of feeling young and in love and alive— and not being willing to give up my new addiction so quickly.

Serene peace from my love confession was quickly transforming into something else. Restless defiance.

{I want to see her suffer!}

I had not watched Coryn Calamine die, nor survived poisonous Kouhuns, nor been kicked off Coruscant before the vote, nor lived through a hellish assembly line of death just to have my suffering offered on a sandy platter for Nute Gunray's amusement! Mother of moons, if I was to die here, I was going to do it on my terms. Fighting.

I thought telling Anakin I loved him would cement my acceptance of the ending of my life. Instead, with a ferocity bordering on fury, I wanted nothing more than to stay as long as possible in this new era where "I love you" had broken the air and not the galaxy.

The most important training of my defense preparation with Panaka shifted into gear— calm mental clarity. Crippling anxiety and scattered focus were the fastest ways to die under threat, especially when time and strategy was of the essence. I stumbled out of the wagon, playing every inch the part of the dejected and hopeless martyr. I dutifully ambled towards the third pillar, a guard at my back following closely. Luckily, the utility pouch at my belt was on the side of my waist opposite his clearest vantage point. I touched hope when I felt the nearly invisible hair pin I'd stowed on my walk across the Lars homestead. With speed that would impress a thieving pickpocket, I pulled it out, bent it with my front teeth, then tucked it on the inside of my cheek, all while the Geonosian behind me stayed none the wiser.

He instructed my arms above my head, and I followed along passively. As he gripped the end of the long chain he'd attached to my cuffs and flew towards the top of the pillar, I kept my elbows bent and low to my head, ensuring there would be slack when the guard finished his assignment. A similar process was happening at the column to my left, as Ani and I both joined Obi-Wan in restraints.

The winged wardens completed hooking our chains to the upmost points of the thick pillars. I drew a deep breath, steadying my racing pulse. When the time for movement came, I would need to work fast.

A hush fell over the spectators, and I understood that the Archduke had taken his place in the luxury booth high above the arena floor. His voice bellowed from a built-in microphone at his perch.

"Let the executions begin!"

Now!

As hoped for, all attention diverted to the three gates opening on the other side of the death beach. I pulled my right wrist down and immediately went into action. Precariously protruding the hair pin from between my teeth, I sought out the infinitesimal hole in my cuff, outrageously grateful that these links followed the same standard design as most produced in the Republic. If Poggle the Lesser himself had flown down to my pillar at that precise moment, I would have planted a kiss to his guppy lips in thanks for outsourcing to mainstream product.

My rosy appreciation eroded as the black caves opposite our columns began to reveal our chosen adversaries. I had been wrong to call the creatures which pulled our execution cart 'beasts'. To apply such vocabulary to them wasted deserving impact behind the word.

The first threat was a tri-horned true beast the shade of anger personified. It seemed to quake the very core of Geonosis with every hulking step. Its teeth were flat and broad, implying a herbivore— but its mood couldn't have been more aggressive. I felt its self-announcing roar shake my rib cage.

I stopped counting the pincer legs of the next monster when I got to five. It was a gargantuan acklay the size of a small house. Its coloring reminded me of the moss which grows on shells along Varykino's beaches, but such shells are fragile and vulnerable to the pressure of a child's careless foot. The reptilian exterior of this behemoth looked impervious. What it lacked in the red beast's brute strength it seemed to make up for in height and speed.

The last creature I recognized from the labyrinth nightmares crawl out of. Thin fur. Spiked quills at the back of the neck. Bloodlust brimming in all four of its crimson eyes. Claws that could probably cut through blast doors if they wanted. It was a feline so dangerous even traders on the black market hesitated to deal in them. A nexu.

For better or worse, my lottery was picked for me as the third aggressor was steered in my direction. One of its mounted handlers made the mistake of provoking it with an electrified pole. Sharp jaws helped him dismantle his seat; I heard the sick crunch as teeth broke throat.

I wasn't making progress with the handcuffs. I'd already nearly dropped the hair pin three times. Fear gripped me and panic began to creep in.

Then a wonderful thing happened. I looked up— far past the bright silver of my clanking binds— at the prominent box where my enemies watched in wait for my macabre end. I could just make out the telltale dark brown hat of the Viceroy.

Nute Gunray had been a threatening shadow in the sidelines of my existence for ten years, filling my nightmares with his droidekas and millions of battle droids. I thought about all the wreaths I'd placed at memorials erected for lives lost to his greed. I thought about the brave Naboo volunteers who fell at my side while we returned fire at his droids in the retaking of the palace. Today, one way or the other, I was putting a stop to a decade of aftershocks lingering since the Invasion. And yet this was so much bigger than just me. When I opened my mouth as Amidala, a voice speaking for billions flowed through my throat. Right now, their invasion scars spoke and filled me once more with intent. Pacifist planet as we were, I felt the agency of every single handmaiden, security guard, pilot, dignitary, citizen, and even Gungan of Naboo set my blood ablaze.

{Work the pin again but don't try to force it. Try to think of it like a current of water, not a stick of metal.}

In front of me, lips snarled backwards to reveal teeth longer than my arms. The nexu had spotted me and begun its crouched advance.

Click.

My right hand was free!

Climb! Now!

I tucked the pin securely back into the pouch, as I would need it for the other hand. These cuffs weren't as cooperative as I'd hoped— only one lock released at a time. But that was a problem for another series of seconds.

My pads and palms were blistered from the heat of the pail and scratched from where they'd desperately sliced against it. It made the climb hard work, but I pushed through the pain and found the grooves in my etched column. If I lived, that's what bacta bandages were for. If I died, the future wounds on my body would undoubtedly be much worse.

It was imperative that I reached the top before the nexu arrived, and I accomplished this feat with mere seconds to spare. There was just enough time to see Obi-Wan get attacked first— he slyly used the acklay's pointed, weaponized arm to severe his attachment to the pillar outright. I stopped watching his ensuing dance with the assailing pincers when the red king of monsters began a charge towards Anakin. My anxiety for him expanded beyond its known limits, but from his profile, he only seemed emboldened. At the last second, he suddenly sprung into the air almost as high as I was, somersaulting down to land on the neck of his aggressor.

I'm not ashamed to say, witnessing Anakin's brilliantly improvised technique shot a bolt of attraction through me, in a way I didn't think could be felt under a period of mortal danger.

But then it was my turn.

The nexu charged my column manically, climbing faster than I'd even anticipated. I gathered my excess chain and made a wild swipe for its eyes. I whipped it once, however, only enough to rile it up. Its rancid breath filled my nostrils as I managed to get one more sting in, knocking it off balance, but it reached for my back as it adjusted its grip. Razor-sharp claws tore at my flesh, eliciting a pealing scream I did not have wherewithal to quash. I saw stars behind my eyes and fought to stay upright.

As I hoarsely breathed through the agony, I forced myself to move at the waist and continue to bend my back, nearly paying for this brief medical check with unconsciousness. But I needed to know that the injury hadn't dug in far enough to have sundered my spine. Mobility assured, I stared down at the grinning nexu. I gained new insight into the emotional intelligence of my foe, plainly observing something akin to a laugh emerge from its throat. It was enjoying my pain.

If I ever got out of this arena and slept next to Anakin again, it would be a long time before I could ever call the soft sound he made in sleep a purr.

The nexu was getting ready to ascend the pillar. I couldn't afford to let it get to the top again. Suddenly, the handcuff still latched onto my left wrist became a godsend. I gathered the slack of the chain into my hold and waited. When the galaxy's worst pet for homes dug its initial claws into the base, I stood, ready. I held my breath as it moved forward with salivating drool leaking over its hungry sneer.

Then I dropped, willing there to be just enough gravity on this planet to utilize my momentum. That seemed to be the case when I slammed a hefty kick right into the soft underbelly of the nexu. It fell immediately, damaged again by an unprotected plummet to the solid ground below.

I had no time to celebrate my temporary triumph. I rapidly began to find the same grooves in my vertical route, frantically mindful that should the nexu recover before I did, I had descended down to indefensible distance. As I moved against the column, I was stunned to realize the bare skin of my stomach now rubbed against the rough sandstone when it hadn't before. The nexu's swipe hadn't just removed the back of my top and a several layers of skin— it had ripped the entire bottom half and nearly a full sleeve off as well. I forgot about fashion as the cuts at my backside and behind my right arm screamed for care. I'd stretched them taunt during my sudden drop; I was paying the price for my life-saving ingenuity.

As I made my getaway, the nexu— now upright on its feet— mewled up at me, disappointed in its dinner for having the audacity to fight back. But it still sauntered as if wounded, and there was a weariness to its prowling step. I was probably giving it more trouble than it was used to dealing with, and for all it knew, I would repeat the last offense if it tried again.

But it snarled at me without reservation, knowing well that I was trapped.

Deathly aware of this, I hurriedly went to work on the second cuff. But I struggled. The hot adrenaline shooting through my system caused my fingers to shake beyond my ability to control. My head snapped up at the deafening sound of a pillar crashing. Obi-Wan's opponent had taken out the obstacle his prey kept hiding behind. I remembered a piece of information I'd learned but never thought I would ever see in action— acklay's are near-sighted, and the Jedi was using that to his advantage masterfully.

Seeing Kenobi's status instantly re-triggered my desire to know Anakin's. I spotted him on the opposite side of the arena, far from our standing and crumbled columns, and my jaw nearly hung from its hinges. He was slowly but steadily approaching his beast in much the same way I'd seen him creep on a shaak— one arm straight in front of him, the palm parallel to the creature as if to soothe it. He was taking the same style of gradual, measured steps until he was a within a few meters of his abnormally compliant partner. Memory fueled my knowledge of what would happen next, but I felt like I possessed advanced Force-perception as I watched him leap on to his mount in the same way he'd domesticated a blubbery animal in a meadow field.

That was as much as I saw before I returned my attention to the feline stalking with ever-growing vigor at my feet. Its black tongue curled up at me from a mouth that would fit around my head too-perfectly. Anakin and Obi-Wan couldn't come to my aid, as they were rightfully still too busy saving their own skins. I hastily resumed my fight to free my hand.

{It's stubborn.}

{So are you. Come on, don't give up. We can't have you sitting there looking like a hostage at your own dinner party.}

One day, I vowed to myself. Sabé and I are going to laugh about all this.

Forgetting about Obi-Wan, Anakin, Nute Gunray, the nexu— all of it— I focused the entirety of my attention on the mechanisms hidden under the exterior of the cuff. Just when I was beginning to think it was never going to give, the last, satisfying click met my ears.

I sighed and peered down, but the nexu wasn't looking at me anymore. It was looking at a charging red monstrosity heading straight for it. The mount was under the direction of the man who'd made me want to live when I'd accepted I'd come to this place to die.

Even I felt ghastly for my nemesis when Anakin's steed rammed into it once to stun it, and again to break its neck. The ratty tail immediately went flat.

"Jump!"

I took a deep breath, willing my body to accept the blow that would ripple through the cuts on my back. But when I stepped off the pillar, free of it at last, the light gravity of Geonosis— and, I imagine, a little cushioning help from Anakin's Force ability— coasted me securely and relatively painlessly right behind his bareback seat.

I wrapped my hands around his waist like we'd never skipped a day riding the shaak. But I needed more contact. When it comes to Anakin, I will always need more. I stretched my lips as near to his as they would go, chastely landing on the holy plain of his cheek.

As if as enlivened by the kiss as I was, his voice boomed with authority when he commanded the beast to a gallop with a "Hyaah!"

I squeezed his middle three times quickly, impossibly trying to communicate love, gratitude for his rescue, and hope. But we were rocking so much with the erratic movement of our ride, I couldn't be sure he noticed a difference between my specific pulses and the generic pulls against him as I struggled to not fall off.

We made direct pursuit for the beige figure forking a spear at his acklay. The weapon eventually crunched in half between a pair of mighty jaws, and Obi-Wan was at a run towards us. He made his way up the red beast like the fat thigh was a stairwell, quickly taking a sit behind me. Ever the respectful gentleman, he kept much more of a distance between us than I unapologetically did between me and Anakin. As we rode away to an indeterminate destination, he yelled, "Senator! Your cuts?!"

My voice was louder than normal to compensate for the activity around us, but I was mindful that Ani's ear was only inches from my lips. "The adrenaline is helping!"

I briefly squeezed the abdomen under my fingers, wanting to silently reinforce my statement of endurance for our driver's sake. He nodded once, signaling his reception, the soft ponytail grazing my nose.

Mounted Geonosian warriors were gathering at our rear flank. Anakin began to maneuver us towards the gates our trio of attackers emerged from, but something made him pull on the reigns at the last minute instead of initiating a dash to freedom.

One, two, three, four. Like death on wheels, seven droidekas rolled from the black depths of the centermost gate. I peered over Anakin's broad shoulders as I watched them speed across the sand with lightening prowess until they had us encircled. Curved spines rose and mechanical arms serving as unstoppable blasters took aim at our heads.

The heaving mount stomped restlessly underneath us. It didn't like its new situation any better than we did. I hoped this animal was not as prone to bucking its riders as Anakin's shaak had been. But so what if it did? What were Dooku and Poggle going to do? Put us on trial again for delaying our own executions? We'd already defeated three of their formidable predators. Unless Nute Gunray and the Archduke had an abrupt change of heart, which seemed as likely as all the oceans of Naboo suddenly evaporating, our hard-fought extension of existence was well and truly over.

I was torn between despair and gratitude. When I was first attached to the pillar, there was a strong chance I would've died without ever touching Anakin again. Instead, my hands were currently around his waist. I'd been able to press my lips to his skin and inhale his godly scent. If this was life's bonus round when it could have ended back at that column, what right did I have to feel indignation?

Except I still wanted so much more.

I didn't care that Obi-Wan was there. I'd only ever gotten to say it twice. When forever couldn't be enough time to repeat it, a mere two utterances of the words would never satisfy. "Anakin. I lo—"

He shushed me quickly, already aware of something about to change everything seconds before I saw it.

"Whatever happens next, stay by my side."

I pulsed his middle again in answer, confused by his hard urgency but absolutely committed to joining my fate with his.

Then, like the wave of a disjointed, two-tone rainbow, lightsabers ignited in the arena around us.

The Jedi had arrived.

A/N: I try very hard to keep my own commentary to myself, to let readers draw from the text what they will, but I can't keep this in. I got SOCLOSE to ending the chapter right after the cart kiss, but what comes next is so connected to the confession that I just could not separate them. I think Padmé is a badass from the first frame of AOTC to the last, but I've also always tried to remember where she is in her life in the timeline. She was fourteen when Naboo was invaded. She had massive responsibility on her shoulders which was magnified to an insane degree. Her people were starving, dying; the hope in Coruscant was all for nothing, and so she banks it all on her own rescue plan that will send Gungans and pilots into death zones if she can't take back the palace. Along the way, alongside this fourteen-year-old, service members she sent into danger are falling around her. We know they win the day, but Padmé had to go right back into being the put-together Queen for the rest of her term and another just after. I think its well-implied she had a supportive circle around her and turned out alright, but I can't believe she hasn't got unresolved trauma years later from what happened when she was just a kid. Especially because...

Nute Gunray violated a pacifist planet and brought all this down on them. And she's had to watch, for ten years, as he not only evaded justice in the courts but got to keep his job. I've very carefully tried not to portray Padmé as weak, but anyone who's read this fic knows she's had some weak moments when her backbone went a little soft. I know this chapter was anticipated for the love confession— and believe me, I don't mean for that moment to be overshadowed and it hopefully isn't— but the closer I got to it, the more I saw this is an equally powerful event when she's put aside her fear and told him, and she's still alive, she looks around knowing she's a good person and so are these two guys with her, everything builds up, and she finally has her (pardon my language) "F—K THIS" moment. And it turns into (as we'll continue to see) basically six-month's worth of kickboxing therapy all rolled into one afternoon. I didn't cover the scene in Suppression, but it's somewhat the full circle moment of her teary "I shouldn't have come back" after the cruiser explosion. I've secretly been looking forward to sharing this moment with you as much as we've all been excited to see her telling Anakin how she feels. It ended up being one of my favorite chapters. Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed. :)