Chapter 51. Dormé

The tragedy of life is not that man loses,
but that he almost wins.

― Heywood Broun

"Good morning, milady."

I did not know you could miss a person so intensely in the mental hibernation of sleep. Perhaps that's why I roused instantly the moment Dormé entered the bedroom. Even in my slumber, my ears were impatient for any signal it was time to journey back to the waking world. To leave behind the realm of fog and semi-sufficient dreams was to reenter the crisp reality where a dynamic, touchable Anakin Skywalker lived and breathed and loved me. Here was the fantastical plane on which my consciousness wanted to exist.

With my soon-to-be husband.

Incandescent joy spread throughout my body. I let it move me, rolling me under the sheets towards the window. I could smell the caf in Dormé's hand behind my still closed eyes.

"Mmm. Good morning." My voice was drenched in the syrup of contentment. I stretched my arms wide under the linen, mimicking a trajectory my lips took as they fanned across my face. A blissful, audible sigh rose and lowered my chest. "Where's—"

My eyes snapped open; I blinked them against the incoming sunlight before meeting Dormé's brown, auditing pair. Self-awareness had clicked into place mid-inquiry. Dormé knew I enjoyed my ritual caf, but this abnormal display of happiness was a bit much for a cup of brew. Any other morning it might simply be odd behavior, but ghosts possessed more spirit than I did just yesterday. Dormé had a front row seat to my descent into depression. I let my original question die clumsily, lamely finishing with a peek around the room. "—Captain Typho?"

Handmaidens to the Senator of Naboo weren't chosen because they were gullible. This one gave me something of an incredulous look. Aloud, she only disclosed, "He's downstairs. Do you need me to get him for you?"

"No," I answered quickly. Too innocently. "Just curious."

As Dormé moved to my bedside, illuminating rays coming in through the window found the russet strands in her hair. Black beads in her dark purple dress shifted subtly as she walked. The contrast of her clothing with the golden bath filling the room was a true paradox. She was twilight moving in front of the dawn. "Anakin—" she watched my face for a short second at the mention of his name, "is in the receiving room." Dormé lifted the cup in her hand slightly as if to indicate it. "When he saw me coming with this, he wanted to bring it to you himself." She titled her head and studied me. "Unusual for a Jedi to volunteer for such a courtesy, isn't it?"

I helplessly broke into a grin again and shuffled up into a sit. So, Anakin was as eager to see me too, even if it meant hijacking my morning cup of caf and turning himself into a butler. My focus jumped to the open entryway, just in case I'd find him inching into the room having concocted another excuse. Although the space was empty, excitement filled me at the confirmation he was still just a rounded corridor away. Looking at my handmaiden again, I only raised my shoulders in a vague shrug. I didn't trust my vocal cords yet in hiding my deranged level of infatuation.

She carefully extended the drink. "As you can see, I told him no. There are some duties which are still mine."

I happened to use the last second of having both hands free to pull my hair off my front and lay it behind my shoulders. Then I reached for the cup to take it from her. Just as my fingers closed around the handle, Dormé gasped in a sudden heist of air. Confused, I peered up at her startled expression but made sure to secure my grip. She was hunched over my frame, staring at my newly exposed skin.

I was about to ask if I'd developed a rash or grown a third shoulder during the night, but she flitted out of the room before I could. I gazed after her retreating back, utterly dumbfounded. I was too perplexed to take a sip from the beverage steaming near my lips.

Moments later, Dormé returned through my doorway with a cross look on her face. The box in her hands was one I only saw on rare occasions. Unless I was attending a particularly ceremonial event or giving a more dramatic speech in the Senate, I preferred to keep my day-to-day cosmetic look natural. The era of heavy monarch makeup was behind me, for which I was exceptionally glad. For this reason, the makeup kit which held the heftier creams and powders was usually kept elsewhere. I panicked as I saw Dormé enter with it purposefully, suddenly fearful I'd forgotten I was to give an important speech today— or attend any other event which might prevent me and Anakin from jet-setting off to married life in the immediate hours.

She set the makeup box on the glass bench at the end of the bed, her wary eyes scanning my form once again. "Let me know if you need any help." Despite uttering words which could have been taken as a self-dismissal, she continued to stand immobile, hands clasped in front of her abdomen.

I followed her scrutiny to my arms. Shocked, I leaned over the side of the mattress to put the mug on the floor. Then I scurried out of bed and rushed in front of the nearest mirror. Purple, yellow, and green patches were scattered across my skin. Almost no five consecutive inches of flesh was left unscathed. My wrists had it the worst when it came to the bruises, but red marks from Anakin's passionate nips with his teeth lined my neck and collarbone. I looked like I had been ravished by the hungriest, most sensual man alive.

Maybe I had.

Especially with Dormé behind me, I knew I should have been mortified. But I think I astonished myself most of all when I let out a brief but loud giggle.

My eyes expanded just after the mirthful sound erupted. I clamped a hand fully over my mouth, but in vain— Dormé had, of course, heard it.

She slowly walked up behind me. Our eyes met in the mirror over my shoulder. Whether it was the bruises or the giggle that sealed the deal, when it came to Dormé, the secret was officially out.

A weighted moment stretched between us. I lowered my hand to my side.

Her quiet voice was nevertheless urgent. "Are you happy, Padmé?"

Before I'd left Coruscant almost three weeks ago, I would have said Dormé knew how to read my face better than anyone alive. She hadn't lost that ability in the short time I'd been away, but one could argue Anakin was gunning for her title with intent speed. Trying to lie to her would be as futile as trying to lie to myself— and I was committed to putting a stop to that. Besides, I would need allies in the coming behemoth effort to blanket me and Anakin in secrecy. This moment, while woefully executed, was inevitable. Downplaying my feelings for him wouldn't be right for what I'd be asking of her.

Unshackled, I gazed back at Dormé in the mirror. I opened the gates to my joy and let the beaming smile return and spread wide, using it and my eyes to speak for me first. But, to make my position safe from any misunderstanding, I firmly swore, "More than I have ever been."

She regarded me pensively. My handmaidens were not the only students who learned how to read expressions. Dormé was fighting masterfully for neutrality, but the thin lines in the center of her forehead betrayed her concern.

I'd been in total isolation with my feelings for Anakin. They were my own torrid, torturous, and terrific secret for so long. Apart from my beloved himself, Dormé was the very first person to whom I was openly revealing them— the first outsider I was letting in on this scary but beautiful confidentiality. I'd hoped this to be a thrilling moment of relief. Wouldn't I feel a weight lifted from my heart's shoulders?

And yet this first initiate was looking at me like I'd merrily told her I was planning on drinking poison.

"It's not a mistake."

I'd meant to sound assuring, but the defensiveness was too thick. A tiny, cautionary voice in the back of my mind questioned which of us I was trying to convince.

Further cemented unease in the eyes watching me underlined how much my effort to assuage had failed. I pushed aside the fearful inner voice and concentrated only on the mental image of the man I loved. Warm, radiant energy caressed my speech this time. "I'm happy, Dormé. Truly."

At last, a flicker of approval reanimated her face, though, her smile never grew near as wide as mine. "That's all that matters to me."

We moved behind the privacy shield, and so began the amusing process of Dormé helping me undress. Distinct finger pad stamps were visible on my bottom and hips, causing her to blush redder than Anakin's evidence. His imprinted souvenirs were also on the outer and inner banks of my thighs, stretching from my rear all the way down to just above my knees. I looked up at her aghast face with humor; she stared back at me like I was a scandalous stranger. But she seemed to gradually relax at my unexpected, complete lack of embarrassment— even become impressed by it. I wanted Anakin. I was proud to want him. I could never feel embarrassment that such a man wanted me too.

"So…" After yet another glance at my fiancé's evident passion, Dormé's eyes flashed up to meet mine. Their much-missed, devilish spark was finally back in full force. "Are the Jedi's lightsabers as legendary as I've heard?"

I let out a sound that began as a high-pitched sigh but devolved into a giggle. Such a manic sweep then ended in something of a groan of frustration. "I wouldn't know." At Dormé's surprised expression, I proudly proclaimed, "Would you believe, this is all before we've actually done it?"

My counterpart broke into an unfiltered laugh. "No." As I tugged my arms through a robe, she strolled into the closet to find me a dress. "I wouldn't."

"Well, it's true," I called after her. For some reason, it mattered that she believed me. Anakin and I had struggled mightily against monumental desires to not go as far as we wanted, and I thought we deserved a colossal amount of credit for such a feat.

More than anything, I secretly yearned to reveal that my clearly sensual beast loved me even more than he wanted to devour me— that he'd set standards which even I wasn't sure I'd be able to adhere to without his insistence. That even with the multi-colored canvas my body had been turned into, he was more gentleman than animal. I wanted to tell her Anakin and I were going to pledge ourselves in a genuine marriage ceremony. I wanted to ask my genius wardrobe mistress for input on how to style my bridal hair. I wanted to hold her hands and confide how excited yet nervous I was to become wife to such a complex, impulsive, and headstrong young man. Already, I was addicted to the high of having disclosed the first layers of my secret to her; to dam up the rest was now worse than if I hadn't admitted anything at all. But to give anyone outside of Brother Luke the information that this wasn't just an impermanent affair— that a proper wedding was in the works— would be to reveal too much too soon, and I silently mourned the first real secret I'd ever kept from Dormé.

I bit the inside of my cheek and fiddled with hair dangling down my right shoulder. Some part of me must've known the smile had evaporated on my face, hence why I wasn't that thrown when I heard her ask, "What is it?"

Dormé was watching me from inside the closet, a selected piece draped heavily over her left forearm.

I shook my head nonchalantly, doing something I had never done while alone with her. I pulled on the Amidala mask. "Nothing."

She wasn't fooled, but I'm sorry to say she was better trained at reading my face than I was at reading hers. While I thought I saw a flash of hurt cross her features, a second later I wasn't sure. She stepped forward with a believable smile. "Ready?"

At my nod, Dormé helped me don a dress of ample green and gray fabric. As I pushed my head through the narrow opening hoisted above my crown, she explained her selection method. "It's full-length. And I do mean full. It will cover your wrists and ankles all the way up to your ears." This was proven exceedingly accurate as I fought my fingers through the sleeves. By the time they were through, the pointed end of taunt cloth ended at my knuckles. My face, having successfully emerged through the collar, felt the rim of it brush under my jawline. "In short, in case the makeup… ah… rubs off during your flight— or you two add to your impressive compilation— it'll be perfect for when you land on Naboo."

Bewildered at her words, I stared back with a growing frown. I was stunned and a little offended that she presumed I'd take such reckless liberties during the trip with a full entourage surrounding us. "Dormé, you know we won't have that level of privacy."

"Oh, perhaps you will. Someone's been quite the strategist." She kept her eyes on me, but her head tilted ever so slightly towards the entryway on the other side of my bedroom. At a higher volume, she declared, "You can come in now."

A few seconds passed. I heard his boots softly meet the carpet just before his face came into view. Our eyes met, and I stopped breathing. All else became a blur apart from him.

It didn't matter that he was dressed in his dark brown tunics and pants; that his tabard was a sedate black. It felt like the sun had walked into the room. No matter how confidently I ever believed I'd memorized Anakin's face, devoted memory never lived up to actuality. His handsomeness was always, always grander than the image my limited mind could preserve.

His tan cheeks balled up in that deluxe smile. He spoke and my toes curled. "Good morning."

Can a woman without Force abilities levitate off the carpet from light-headed giddiness? I was making a good try at it.

"Good morning."

I love you. I missed you. I love you. I want to rush into your arms. I love you.

Absorbed and euphoric by each other's presence as we were, I'd forgotten Dormé was still there until she cleared her throat.

"Be careful, milady." Our witness's voice was like sweet wine still on the vine, lined with the edge of a warning thorn. "There isn't enough makeup on Coruscant to cover up the look on your face." In my periphery, I saw her shift her focus to Anakin. "And with you, it is simply hopeless."

I chuckled at her cautions awkwardly. Speaking for myself, this was unfamiliar and— frankly— strange territory. My spine had straightened into a professional posture at the reminder of her audience. I fought the natural urge to adopt a mask. Dormé was in on the secret now, yet I couldn't turn off the part of my brain that steadfastly clung to the ruse as if she still didn't know any better. Finding and relaxing into a balance with this new reality was going to take some work.

Whatever stress I felt from this conundrum fell away as Anakin gave me one of his signature boyish grins. He wasn't at all affected by us being called out. If anything, he seemed to relish it. That steamed up impulse to run the distance between us and wrap my arms around his neck was strong.

I bit down on my bottom lip in a lost attempt to suppress my smile. Since he'd entered the room, I'd yet to tear my eyes away from Anakin's face. "She knows. I just told her a few minutes ago." When my beloved and my handmaiden suddenly shared a knowing look, my expression became more puzzled. "What?"

Anakin nodded at Dormé with a clear show of respect. "I believe she had it figured out sooner than a few minutes ago." He beamed at me, then looked again at Dormé long enough to ask, "Have you told her?"

There was palpable zest in his question. The target of it clasped her hands behind her back. "I thought you would like the pleasure of it."

Anakin looked like he'd won a lifetime supply of shaak ribs. "I would. Thank you."

I looked between her pleased smile and his exuberant grin. "What's going on?"

Anakin stood taller before dipping his chin down theatrically. "The lobbyist… did us a favor."

It took me a moment to discern who exactly was the only lobbyist we both knew. "Jurue?"

I was still getting whiplash from seeing Anakin talk about Jurue Batar with a blissful smile on his face. "It seems, thanks to his apparent idea, everyone saw that you disembarked from The Credence on the gateway."

"…Yes."

Anakin seemed happy I hadn't caught on yet. It meant he could drag the revelation out— marinate in it. "The HoloNet flies didn't get a photo of you boarding your yacht. I checked. Did you tell anyone on The Credence that your Nubian ship was onboard?"

"Only Jurue, in passing conversation."

Anakin nodded without any consternation. He seemed to think Jurue was a small enough pool. "Then, it would seem, no one who could be a threat knows you came to Coruscant with your own transportation." His gaze, abruptly more serious as if a sudden thought had occurred to him, flew to Dormé's. "It wasn't logged with Coruscant air traffic, was it?"

"No. It didn't enter the planet's atmosphere on its own, so we never checked it in."

"Therefore, no one will be watching for it when we leave today." I nodded, grasping his intention. "You're proposing my staff and I leave for Naboo on the yacht?" It would be a cramped fit, but we could make it work. I was more surprised that all this fervor was apparently for added security.

…Especially when this arrangement would confine me and him with others even more. Finding opportunities for even brief, private moments with Anakin would be outlandishly risky. Worse, we'd have an audience for every stolen look. Based on Dormé's recent review of us simply wishing each other "good morning", I wasn't wild about this plan.

"No." His eyes danced with a blend of excitation and trepidation. "I'm suggesting just you and I do."

Anakin watched my face for an explosion of elation when the understanding came. Instead, warning bells turned my smile into a deepening frown. "Separate ships?"

Dormé, seeing the look on my face, interjected, "If you and Anakin leave first, you'll be able to get off Coruscant undetected, milady." Her eyes cast down momentarily to the carpet. "A Coruscant landing platform is a vulnerable chance for danger to strike. I will don the Amidala role and leave on a ship commissioned by our embassy. Captain Typho, the guards, and two Nubian fighters will accompany us. We'll depart this evening. No one need know that you actually left the planet this morning on a ship— a unlogged ship very few know is here."

The loud bang! of an explosion echoed in my ears. I smelt ash. Charred clothing. Chrome metal burning.

I saw Cordé's bloodied face.

"No. Absolutely not."

Anakin sighed. His hands seemingly instinctively rose to his waist before he caught himself and put them back down at his sides. "All the same precautions will be taken with their ship, Padmé, as if you were onboard too. We aren't talking about parading them out like bait. But in the terrible event that something goes wrong, your safety will already be assured."

"And more of my staff will be injured or dead in my place?"

Dormé exchanged a glance with Anakin before turning towards me. "It's a good idea, milady, but it's just an extra measure. There's no vote someone is trying to keep you from; no attempts since the Kouhuns, even when you were thought to be here these last weeks."

I gave her a tired look. "I don't think it was ever about the vote. Nute Gunray's involved. His ten-year grudge doesn't need the excuse of legislation to try to kill me— especially now that I escaped him on Geonosis. Wishing me dead is his favorite pastime."

For a moment, I heard again the venomous voice from a dark courtroom's front row.

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

Anakin took two long steps towards me. His eyes blazed. "As long as I'm breathing, no harm will come to you."

I took in the adamancy in his strained expression, the readiness in his stance— as if he was primed to demolish any threat that would ever come my way. I knew he would, or die trying. Anakin would always rather step into my circle of danger than seek out refuge anywhere else.

I'm ashamed of what happened next, whether or not I should be. But it dawned on me then that any ramp I exploded on today would be one Anakin died on too. I could never shower him with enough pleadings to hang back while I stood exposed alone. With this single fact, there was no more mental debate. My loyalty to the staff who had served and protected me for years was profound. But the man before me had managed to outweigh them all in significance to my soul in a matter of days. Given the choice between two scenarios— one in which Anakin's life would be at risk, and the other where it would not— I chose the path where he would be safe. It would be unfathomably tragic and horrific if anything happened to Dormé, Captain Typho, and the others, but I would find a way to survive it.

I would not survive if Anakin was lost.

"Alright." I nodded. "But every precaution must be taken— even more so than last time. Leak a false time of departure for your starship, on a different platform, under a different call sign. File for multiple hyperspace lanes." The urgency of my tone grew as I ticked off all the same steps we'd taken on the flight from Naboo to Coruscant. In truth, I struggled to come up with new diversions our team hadn't thought up before. We'd exhausted all avenues to mitigate the danger, and still, it hadn't been enough. "And leave tonight, after sunset. Give yourselves complete cover of darkness. Coruscant can find out Senator Amidala has left the capital well after you're airborne."

Dormé absorbed my avid concern with a graceful head nod. She was no stranger to covert runs. "We will be careful, milady."

It was Anakin who rose a wary brow now. "One potential problem. Will Captain Typho go for this?"

I sighed, knowing the reasoning behind the answer. Dormé said it for the both of us. "Yes. He will want to be where the highest level of danger is."

"Captain Typho will be content to know I'm safely in flight. After that, his priority will extend to everyone else." I recalled the solemn, guilt-ridden look on Typho's face when he'd spoken of his failure to protect Cordé. He wouldn't let another handmaiden, or any member of the guard, go into danger without being at their side.

There was a long moment where the conversation paused. Then Dormé, likely seeking to revert the mood to lighter colors, segued, "Well. There is much to do. Milady, I will get started on the packing for you."

At this, Anakin's dashing eyebrows jumped and he met my eye. I felt warmth rise in my cheeks as I received the pointed reminder. "That's alright, Dormé. I have an idea of what I'd like to pack."

Dormé, who'd taken a step in the direction of the closet, stopped and looked at Anakin, then at me. Wisely, she decided not to question the suddenly mischievous air in the room.

Something that had been poking at the corners of my attention since last night's return from the rooftop finally found its voice. "Actually, I have to postpone packing for a short while. I need to read the Tuffton-Maner Referendum. I promised Senator Organa and the Chancellor my thoughts. It's high time I honor that commitment."

Dormé's lips swelled into a smile. This was a version of her Senator she knew. With an acknowledging dip of her head, she replied, "I'll set up your breakfast for you by the couches." As if something about this triggered the thought, she turned and began walking toward my bed. "Now, where did your caf go—"

Her voice cut off at the sight of the purple mug floating up from where I'd placed it on the floor. My eyes flew to Anakin. He seemed to know the cup was full enough of liquid to keep his concentration there instead of looking at me, but he smiled bigger all the same when my gaze fell upon him. I'd seen him levitate fruit, a ball, and unlock doors. I'd been witness to his mind tricks. None of that even came close to his ministrations in the conference room onboard the cruiser, nor his tremendous skill with a lightsaber. I wasn't necessarily shocked by his abilities anymore, though his use of them continued to excite, charm, or alarm me. Dormé, however— who I had every reason to believe hadn't seen him lift anything but the corners of his lips into smiles— was flabbergasted. Her time around Jedi was barely more than the average citizen's, and this was her first experience seeing their magic.

As she watched the mug float across the rumpled sheets on my bed, over the glass bench, and evenly into my hand without spilling a drop, her jaw unhinged. Closing it, her protectiveness over her domestic duties when it came to me seemed to surrender. With a wry, humorous smile, she admitted, "I can't do that."

"That's alright," I teased with a shake of my head. I lifted my mug in her direction as if toasting her. "In plenty of areas, you will always be the master, Dormé. Ani wouldn't know his way around styling my hair if the fate of the Republic was at stake."

I smoothly sipped from my beverage in wait.

"True," came the low voice. I should've known better than to lure him in front of company. "I'm lost if I have to put your hair up." His eyes simmered at me with open suggestion. "But I'm getting very good at taking your hair down."

"Anakin—"

"—I believe that's my cue to get breakfast ready." Dormé started for the doorway but turned at the last second to shoot me a look. "Should I set the table for two?"

I was still shaking my flushed face at Anakin, but a smile as big as a star system was plastered on my cheeks. He was regarding me without apology, his own expression one of delight. I took one more sip, then I set my mug down on a nearby table. "What do you say, Anakin? Would you like to join me as I read over the referendum?" I tilted my head impishly. "You can share your insights with me."

"Only if you think I won't be too much of a distraction."

That ridiculous weightlessness had returned. I wondered if any cultures had made it a crime to feel this happy. "Oh, there's already little hope there. But we can try."

In response, he turned to the other woman and nodded his head. "I would be honored if you would set a place for me as well, Dormé. I promise to keep the Senator on task." The glint in his eyes unwrapped the lie.

Dormé, the sole soul here looking out for my professional reputation, advised, "I hope you do. It's an important document." Eyeing me next, though, she gamely added, "Then she'll be all yours to distract on your private flight to Naboo."

"Thank you, Dormé." My tone was a clear dismissal, but its authority was undermined by the girlish fervor on my face. She only grinned back at me before finally departing the room.

The velocity of heat that had risen in my cheeks made my head spin. I was having to find my balance in this new reality quite quickly. I reconciled myself to a future where Dormé's reserved nuances would be an endangered species. At least I could trust her to keep her innuedos to herself in public.

Dormé hadn't made it three steps towards the corridor before Anakin was striding towards me. At the last second, I made myself put a hand up to indicate he should stop. By the licking of his lips, I knew exactly what his intentions were. "You can't." I looked pointedly in the direction of the nearest camera. "We aren't really alone, not yet."

His eyes trailed my face. Their inflaming path, hidden from the camera lens by his stance, lowered until he was outlining my entire body's frame. My pulse accelerated accordingly.

It took everything in me not to skip into him. I was fairly certain I hadn't skipped anywhere since I was seven years old. The magnetic pull between us was insatiable. I beamed at him with pleasure, though. Leave it to Anakin to find a way for us to get to Naboo without any other passengers aboard. "This two-ship idea of yours is remarkably convenient."

My future husband accepted my compliment with a leisurely grin. "Well, as your Jedi protector… I say it is the best course of strategy we can take. It has the most promise of keeping you safe, which is why we should do it." He dropped his voice, but his eyes only increased in their temperature. "As the man who loves you…" His lips broke into a smile befitting the happy man he'd should've been allowed to grow old as. "I say, uninterrupted hours with you in the heart of space is my idea of a dream come true."

Coming next... ACT VIII: SPACE

A/N: Suspicion, an abbreviated story of Suppression from Dormé's POV, coming Winter 2023.

Thank you for any reviews.