A/N: Firstly, this will be the last chapter posted to this site until FF.N fixes their email alert system (head to my bio page if you want to learn more about the site-wide breakdown). I might reverse this decision if the issue goes on for too long. However, the final chapter and the epilogue will be posted on AO3 (Archive of our Own) tomorrow. I'm there under the pen LadyR_A_P. So, the story will shortly continue/finish for all eyes to see, but I will not rush to post the final chapters here when there's even a chance the site staff could fix the issue in the coming days. They have to eventuallytheir traffic flow to the site/ad revenue depends on it, and I'd be heartbroken if it was solved days or hours after the epilogue already went up. I've poured to much of my time and soul into this fic for over a year to end it with that kind of unfortunate coincidence.

Lurkers. I'm looking at you. If you want to show support to your favorite stories, in an era with a glitch as bad as this (it's more of a bomb than a glitch), it is not only great but critical that you leave a review, so the site's authors know our chapters are being seen by our readers. Otherwise, it's like dropping a part of our hearts off a building and never knowing if anyone down below caught it.

Now, on to the chapter.

In addition to having significance in regard to the ceremony occurring in the midst of a war outbreak, the following chapter title was chosen because of a behind-the-scenes detail I've always cherished. It involves the filming of the famous wedding scene at Villa del Balbianello in Lake Como, Italy. The clouds you see were not CGI. Filming was nearly postponed to the next day because of coming rainfall, but the skies cleared fifteen minutes before the shoot, allowing the actors and film crew to proceed.

As someone who has worked on movie sets, I know that if it came down to fifteen minutes, that shoot was seconds away from being called off. I'm honestly shocked they pushed it as close to the limit as they did, especially considering how expensive a set like that is to run by the minute. But with that serendipitous clearing, we were blessed with one of the most beautiful shots of a sunset lit vista I've ever seen on screen.


Chapter 60. A Pause in the Storm

That death's unnatural that kills for loving.
Alas, why gnaw you so your nether lip?
Some bloody
passion shakes your very frame.
These are portents, but yet I hope, I hope
They do not point on me.
— William Shakespeare, Othello (character: Desdemona)

My bridal suite was quiet.

Birds sang the prelude music from beyond the unbolted door. White curtains, acting as slow-motion sirens, beckoned me to a shared veranda that was presently entirely my own. It was clear of the female relatives and friends who could have filled it with laughter and giddy excitement.

Heels audibly met the tile whenever I took a step. The beaded skirt of my dress sounded like crystallized waves massaging the shore when I moved. Yet apart from nature and the audio of my own activity, I was surrounded by silence. There was too much space in the room. Its empty pockets only emphasized the absences.

My veil of a thousand beads sat waiting on the bed next to the now-empty blue box. There's a multitude of braids my hands can accomplish on their own. Some stood a brief chance. In the end, I'd wanted my hair as unconfined as my love for Anakin felt. Most of it spilled in long, relaxed curls down my back, but I'd pulled two segments forward to rest against my bosom.

Carefully, as if I could hear Grandmother Ryoo's nervous inhale, I picked up the veil and turned to face the standing mirror. My makeup had been applied and the intricate dress donned. I lowered the final piece into place on top of my head. It hung low, hiding my ears and falling far past my hairline. A slightly ruffled hem curtained my face, but all in all, the veil fit the proportions of my features quite well.

Triggered by heart's instinct, my eyes darted around me through the reflection in the mirror, asking for the final opinions of loved ones. My imagination made up believable contributions in their stead.

Long before I found out he could read them, one of the greatest gifts Anakin taught me was to give liberty to my emotions. For years— my entire adult life— I was good at suppressing my feelings. Too good. Too often they'd been compartmentalized into drawers, sentenced to gather dust and neglect in the dark, all the while suffocating me with grips that reached beyond their prison.

Suppression was my past. I wouldn't go to our wedding ceremony distraught or distracted, but neither would I forsake the lessons my Anakin had given me which so transformed my life. Closing my eyes, I allowed myself to feel the immeasurable pain of the absences, if only so that I may leave most of that grief behind in this room.

I missed my handmaidens— not for their skills, but for their smiles, humor, insight, and support. I wanted to tell them I'd found my ana ondóme, and that he was about to become my husband. We'd talked about this day together— the day when the endlessly dedicated Amidala unshackled herself from her duties long enough to find a gentleman and allow him to marry her. Eirtaé, the youngest and most romantic of the royal retinue, had sworn she was going to attend my wedding even if she had to infiltrate the ceremony by climbing over stone walls. I'd promised her that wouldn't be necessary. All of my handmaidens had more than earned their invitations.

I missed my grandmothers— Ryoo and Winama. Both were participants in their own happy marriages, even though the partnerships had been arranged by others. How I wished I could ask the two embodiments of wisdom for guidance. My longing extended to my cousins, aunts, and uncles. I'd seen so little of them since I'd entered planetary politics, and even less so when my service took me to Coruscant. But a day like this would've brought all of us together again under one roof.

I missed grandmother Winama's mother, Leia. Anakin was a figure straight out of one of her mythical fables. She, better than anyone else, would've understood the magic in five óma willa swimming to my groom.

I missed little Ryoo and Pooja. No doubt they'd be dancing with Artoo and stealing shy looks at the handsome human skyscraper.

But all this ache was nothing compared to how I longed for my mother and sister. I would've gladly sacrificed the presence of all the rest if it meant I could have either my mom or Sola at my side. My mother would be adjusting the veil's position through tears. Sola would be behind her in the mirror, winking and dropping unsubtle innuendos about the wedding night.

I slid my hands down the stiff belly of the gown as I studied it in the reflective pane. I'd seen holographics of my mother when she was a young woman, even from when she was a little girl, but she was ever mature in my eyes— ever older, in a way which had made my mind unable to relate to the perception of her as a young, madly-in-love novice. But she had worn this dress— I'd seen holographics of her from the day. She'd breathed in it. Walked in it. Heard the skirt make the same crystallized sounds. And according to her own account, she'd been nervous in it, even as she reveled in her certainty of her love for my father.

I drew invaluable comfort from the connection. It made Jobal Thule feel real and alive to me in a way which had never happened so vividly before.

This is our dress.

But Sola's innuendos weren't forgotten either. Anticipation of what tonight would bring drew air out of my maiden body in a flooded dispatch. My eyes momentarily flew to the bed behind me.

{Say yes, Padmé. Say yes, and we'll celebrate right here on this table so loudly, we'll wake up the whole fleet.}

Images of two figures moving in consummation, twisting those very sheets into disarray, burned my blood. My pulse quickened and my breath grew shallow. I watched myself in the mirror as I traced my fingertips down the bare skin of my neck, traveling south to the exposed expanse above my breasts, imagining Anakin's hands recreating the same journey. My fingers trembled as they moved.

I didn't expect to feel so nervous about something I craved so badly.

After a deep breath, I stressed to myself that no matter how passionate the events of the night began, we'd have to take care when relieving me of the gown— not just because of its precious past, but because of its potential future. A different kind of warm feeling came over me as I recognized there was a chance my own daughter, or daughters, might stand in front of a mirror wearing this very dress on her wedding day.

Perhaps she would be like Sola, and consider it too old-fashioned.

Or maybe, she'd be as devoted as I to honoring a family tradition.

With that thought, for the first time, I gazed at my bridal reflection and truly, unabashedly smiled.

I look forward to finding out what she decides to do.

This was the same mirror I'd used to calm my tumultuous self after my and Anakin's first kiss. Now, I prepared to leave this reflection of an unmarried woman behind, return to that very balustrade, and become his wife.

Inhale.

Pause.

Exhale.

It was time.

Anakin and I hadn't discussed whether we'd be housing in his or my bedroom tonight. Taking precautionary measures, I cleared the bed of my discarded green dress and the blue box. Once makeup cases had been closed and stowed, I opened the door and, as expected, came face to face with a pair of artificially lit eyes.

"Oh, you are a splendid sight, Miss Padmé."

"Thank you, Threepio. Is our operation still a secret?"

He bowed in his signature choppy way. "Most assuredly."

"Then it's time."

He flexed his arm joints with excitement. "How excellent! They are waiting for you on the terrace. I should be there in a few minutes." He bowed once more and then began to shuffle off in the direction of the kitchen. Suddenly, he turned at the last moment and adjusted himself to face me again. The poor droid wasn't like Artoo— he had to shift his entire body in order to make 'eye contact'. "Oh, er, shall they be matching?"

Stepping through the doorway, I paused, baffled. "I'm not sure. You may use your best judgment."

"Yes, Miss Padmé. If you'll excuse me."

I smiled as I watched him go. Independent from the comfort of having a reminder of Anakin constantly in my home, I was growing confident that the protocol droid and I were going to make a good team. He'd been honored and elated by the role I'd given to him days ago. Despite his propensity for talking, this was one secret I'd hoped he would keep. Plus, unbeknownst to Threepio, it had served as a good test for a Senator's new droid, resulting in an optimistic sign that both a concealed marriage and, eventually, state secrets were going to be safe in his care.

And the irony was perfect. Anakin himself built the programming which made up Threepio's mind, but even his supernatural abilities could not read it the way he could read me.

My heels announced my arrival into hallways long before I entered them, but there was no one to hear the echo. Briefly, I thought to sling the train over my elbow and carry it as I traveled, but I was going to an outdoor wedding. It was in no greater danger on the polished tile than it was on the terrace gravel.

The wealth of fabric made my descent down the atrium stairs require extra attentiveness, but years of descending steps in gowns proved helpful, and ultimately, I found myself making my way towards the exiting door. I pushed it open, straightaway pleased to see the sun had waited for us, though the cover of clouds was somewhat disappointing. As I followed the path towards the western courtyard, my eyes eagerly searched for blond and brown.

And there he was.

I saw his back at first. He was standing a few meters from the balustrade with Artoo. Seeing the clever astromech and the famous Jedi pilot posed together, I finally admitted to myself something I'd already begun to accept, if bittersweetly. The pair looked like they belonged as a team too.

Then the young man turned to stare at my approach. If words exist to describe the emotions I beheld on Anakin's face as he saw his long-envisioned, long-dreamt bride walk to him in the flesh, I know not what they are.

Following the magnetic link of Baskar steel I'd felt that very first night in my apartment, I walked to him until we stood a meter apart. I'd seen him in his Jedi robes a hundred times. A trillion times more would have to pass before he stopped taking my breath away.

He looked all over my body, at my hair, at the dress— how it fell around my legs; how it hugged my hips the way his hands had and would again; the unexpected offering of skin from the teased mounds of my breasts. Up my collarbone, to my face, the intricate detail of my veil. Back to my face.

"Luminous beings," he murmured with palpable reverence. I regarded him with a puzzled but benign expression. He smiled back in wonderment. "Something Master Yoda says." He took a step closer. Even still, his gaze did not stop its recording of every detail of my frame. I could see him searing the memory of his bride behind his eyes for infinite reference.

"Do I match your vision from all those years ago?"

He shook his head, looking upon me like a man who might fall to his knees at any moment in worship. "You exceed it."

My hand was well accustomed to the perfect angle required to lift it to Anakin's cheek. I cupped it with equal idolization to his gaze, caressing his warm skin under my thumb. Now that we were here, this day felt so inevitable, no matter the galactic trials we'd had to fight our way through to reach it. "Oh, Anakin."

He frowned with so much immediately apparent apology that I increased the pace of my caress. "I'm sorry I didn't consider that our connection could come across as intrusive. I should've brought it to your attention much sooner, and more delicately."

I need not be a Jedi in order to read this man as well as he could me. Put me in a holocall with him from across the stars or, better yet, let us see each other from across the same room— so long as I could look into his eyes, I just might outmatch his ability. Of course, this was all a credit to the unfiltered openness of his heart. Anakin had never stood in front of another soul and pretended to be anyone else other than himself.

My thoughts ventured from the passionately pure to the illicitly censurable. I smiled. "Our situation is not without its advantages. I do have a question. Why were you surprised, by the fireplace, that I did feel something? You seemed so shocked, yet it appears you already knew."

"One day," he grinned, but his voice was hoarse. "When I tell you how much I live for you— that my heart beats for you— you will believe how much it's true. I already told you, Padmé. My feelings for you are so strong, so consuming, it was sometimes impossible for me to separate where my feelings ended and yours began. I started to think I'd blinded myself by it."

My thumb continued to graze his cheek. Our eyes remained locked until he closed his lids and pressed his lips into the tender skin of my wrist.

Abruptly, I realized we were a groom and bride absent a holy man. I dropped my hand and looked around the courtyard. "Where's Brother Luke?"

"In the gardens, He wanted to see— ah, here he comes now."

Smiling, we jointly turned to greet the arriving figure. Something about the sight of the Pontifex who would make us husband and wife within a matter of minutes made the experience that much more real. Adrenaline ran through my limbs.

It was all so incredibly unexpected. A month ago, if I pictured what I'd be doing today, I would've assumed meetings, legislative sessions, maybe committee hearings. Instead, I was standing at Varykino, in a wedding gown, reunited with Ani and about to take him as my husband. The galaxy and my life were changing so rapidly.

"What a magnificent evening for a wedding," Luke announced, a serene smile on his face as he took in the view of us in the final steps of his walk. "For a magnificent couple." His appraisal centered on me. "The most beautiful flower Naboo has ever produced." He came forward, and we embraced. Pulling away, his eyes were misted as he proclaimed, "You are an ethereal beauty, my dear."

I grinned at him first with gratitude, but then my chin angled backwards as I scanned the gray sky. "Those clouds are low. I hope it doesn't begin to rain on us during the vows."

"Oh, it won't."

I appraised the wrinkled face. "What makes you so sure?"

He put a finger to his ear, even though it was covered by his head cap. "Listen. Listen to your wedding guests." Luke paused, and then, "The birds are peaceful." He went quiet once more, allowing us to hear the gentle melody of our winged spectators in the trees. It was meditative. Soothing. "They would be calling out to each other in a frenzy if the sky was about to open upon them." He winked. "Also, alas, these old bones don't hurt near enough for there to be rain just yet."

"You should know," I regarded him with an impish air. "When you were on your way to the villa, I thought about greeting you in my wedding dress and just letting you jump to conclusions on the spot."

As if he could sense my sincerity, Anakin came to my stand by my side. "You don't know me very well, Luke." He beamed down at me. "But an idea like that is precisely why we're a destined match."

"You would risk an old man's heart like that?"

Anakin bowed a little. "Excuse me. You're right. We need to keep you well and stay in your good graces."

Luke tilted his head to the side, already amused. "Oh?"

"Of course," Anakin replied, serious now, without any hint of sarcasm. "We will need to ask you back when we renew our vows in front of Padmé's family."

I don't know which I enjoyed more— hearing and processing Anakin's magical words myself, or watching the same cognitive process play out on Brother Luke's features.

The width of his smile was an inspiring thing to see. "It would be my great pleasure."

"If I remember your services correctly, you provide blessings for newborns, do you not?" At the holy man's surprised nod, Anakin turned to look at me. That half-curved smile decorated his lips. "Something to keep in mind."

"Ahh, speaking of the vows," Luke captured both of our attentions again. "We need to discuss them before we begin. Traditionally, the ceremony is performed in Nabooian. I presume you would prefer Basic?"

I was opening my mouth to answer, but Anakin got there first. "Nabooian will do perfectly."

"Anakin," I interjected. "No. Don't you—" I shook my head, stunned I had to formulate this question in the first place. "Don't you want to be able to understand the vows?"

He looked calm and unfazed as he walked towards the idling astromech. "What I want, is for you to have as much of the wedding of your dreams as I can still provide." Coming to a stop, he put a hand on the blue and silver dome next to him. "Artoo is going to record the ceremony on a secure circuit— with your permission, I'll tinker with it later; make sure its safe from any bypass. We're going to watch that recording over and over for the rest of our lives. You can translate it for me on the first run, and again until I understand word for word. Besides," he grinned wider. "It doesn't matter. Brother Luke could perform the ceremony in Nabooian, Basic, Huttese, or Wookiee. My focus is only going to be on you." Then a worrying thought seemed to cross his mind, and he turned towards the other man once more. "Is there anything we'll have to say?"

Luke clasped his hands together in front. "Yes. After I recite the vows, you will each have a moment to reply with 'Dentumé lilth shilu tooa'."

"Dentumé lilth shilut-shilul-shulu—"

"Shilu tooa. Dentumé lilth shilu tooa."

"Dentumé lilth shilu tooa," Anakin repeated smoothly. He widened his eyes and exhaled a wave of air. "What does it mean?"

"Some cultures use this moment in the ceremony to say 'Yes' or 'I do'," Luke explained. "In Basic, the translation would be 'I swear by the soil and the star.'"

"I swear by the soil and the star," Anakin murmured softly. He turned to look at me. "This is why I love Nabooian."

I smiled at his clear enthusiasm. "It was an oath sworn by the knights to the first King of Naboo. It continued with his successors. Whenever a new member was added to a King or a Queen's elite guard, they'd swear fealty to the monarch 'By the soil and the star, by the water and the air'. Overtime, somehow, it became the commitment affirmation in wedding vows."

"Whatever happened to the knights?"

Brother Luke shook his head. "They belonged to a red era in Naboo's history."

Anakin looked intrigued by this vague answer. I elaborated for him. "They protected the monarchs during the wars— before the Great Time of Peace. After, the knights were disbanded, and we gradually transitioned to a volunteer security force." I paused, considering something I'd never realized before. "I wouldn't be surprised if Captain Panaka drew his inspirations for my handmaidens from the early knights."

Anakin departed Artoo's side and walked towards me. He cupped my taken fingers in his hold. His expression was heartfelt, teetering on solemn. He straightened his back and expanded his chest slightly, looking every inch a noble hero. "When I say those words, know that I am pledging my fealty and protection to you, my eternal queen. Forever." He lifted my right hand and pressed his lips to the back of my fingers. Blue eyes seared into mine. "I am your eternal knight."

My heart fluttered and swelled beyond capture, Brother Luke sighed with grandfatherly approval, but somewhere, I know now that Fate put its heavy head into its palms. For Fate knew it sent Death out for its duty with the same, if vastly different, declared truism.

"I have one request."

His stare was intently serious. "Anything."

I wanted him to know how devoted I was. Grabbing his mechanical hand, I lifted it chest-level between us. I heard a sharp intake of breath from Anakin when I calmly and smoothly slid the black glove off. Golden, skeletal fingers twitched, as if they feared they would now catch fire from being exposed to the open air.

"This," I gestured with the glove before walking a few paces away and leaving it on a nearby bench, "stays off during the ceremony, and for however long after you're comfortable with it removed." Returning to him, I wrapped both my hands around the mechanized palm and fingers, and he tentatively responded in kind. "I want you to see that I'm marrying you. All of you."

"Padmé," he breathed, a new wave of emotion building in his eyes.

"I love you," I whispered.

"Ah, Miss Padmé? Master Ani?" Threepio's cheery voice interrupted us as politely as he could manage it. We turned to see him walking down the path, a tray with two cups on it in his hands. I felt exhilaration and suspense at the sight, but Anakin crossed his arms over his chest.

"More caf? Threepio, now it is not the time." He made a quick hand movement between the three humans. "And you forgot a cup."

"Oh, but sir, I—"

"No, Ani." I put a hand on his forearm as I passed by him on my way to Threepio. The droid had come to a careful stop with the tray near the bench. "Come. Look closer."

Both men walked near enough to peer inside the cups. The instant he saw their contents, Anakin froze, but Luke looked up at me questioningly. "Water?"

Anakin's eyes met mine. I could see him hesitate in letting his hopes get too high, that I couldn't possibly have arranged…

I kept my eyes locked on my groom, even as I explained the situation to the Pontifex beside him. "Threepio has much more than six million forms of communication in his memory banks. He was with Anakin's late mother the day of her wedding." I paused, allowing a breath so everyone could know I was directing the rest of my explanation to Ani. "You proposed to me while speaking of a Tatooine tradition with a flower. I began to wonder what other rituals the planet practices when it comes to matrimony." Anakin watched me form these words with such intensity that I suddenly felt a torrent of nerves. "I know your feelings when it comes to Tatooine are not all easy to bear." I wavered. Encouraged by the lack of pain in his eyes, I continued, "But we are marrying on my planet, on my family's estate, in a ceremony conducted under a Naboo religion—"

"I would marry you in any religion that pronounces you as my wife."

"—blessed by a holy man I alone have known since childhood. And now, the rites are going to be performed in my native language." I gestured at the tray. "It's only right that your home world— that what light there is in your heritage— is represented too."

Anakin mutely stepped forward and gazed down into the cups. I'd have given anything to know his thoughts. He looked up at me.

"Where, when…?"

"At my apartment. It was the night after disembarking from The Credence. I took advantage of a private audience with Threepio."

{Will you tell me about Cliegg and Shmi's wedding? I saw a holograph of what she looked like on the day, but I'd like to hear the stories you told Ani.}

Anakin slowly began walking towards me, but I continued explaining, "He told me how your mother asked him to stand in for you when she married Cliegg. He told me about the water ritual, and I asked him to—" I was cut off by the force of Anakin's arms drawing me into a powerful embrace. He pummeled his nose deep into my veil as if he wanted to feel the strands underneath, pressing our forms together like he needed to fuse his very being with my essence. I squeezed my eyes shut and relished in his envelopment completely. My hands ran their way back and forth across his shoulders and upper back.

Into his ear, I finally whispered, "I know you wish your family was here too. It's only right that Threepio represent your mother… and Cliegg, and Owen—" I remembered the sweet smile bordered by blonde buns. She would officially be family soon enough. "—and Beru today… And I want to honor Tatooine's wedding traditions as well."

His arms around my waist clutched me tighter to him. "Thank you, Padmé."

The third party had been respectful of our moment. When Anakin and I gradually pulled away from one another, we saw him standing at the terrace railing with his back to us, his focus directed out over the lake. He was right. I could see green mountains across the water. The clouds were beginning to part, and the revealed sky cast a pink hue over the geography.

The sun was lowering, and it would not reverse itself, even for a love like ours.

I took the initiative to call out to the figure. "Luke?"

He turned promptly. Respectful he was, but curiosity for this foreign ritual drove his steps back to us with swiftness. He chuckled as he approached me and straightened my slightly wayward veil. Then, between Anakin and Threepio, the symbolism of the water became clear.

"When water is the most lucrative resource on a planet," Anakin was saying, "little to none of it is ever wasted. That's true even on a moisture farm. It's involvement in ceremonies for involvement's sake is not something taken lightly."

"Much like any collected, stored, and highly sought-after resource," Threepio added, "there is a discrepancy of the quality."

"Slaves got the worst. We were given the dirtiest of the water to live off of, and not much of it."

"That's terrible," Brother Luke muttered, offended on their behalf.

Anakin pressed his lips together before enlightening, "The high rollers at Jabba's got the best. That water was so clear, you could see right through it." He shrugged and looked at me. "Or so I heard. Gardulla kept us far away from the jugs, and I was only three when we left the palace. I didn't see water like that till I boarded your ship."

I tried to contain my disgust at this abhorrent tier-system, and my sadness that Anakin still spoke of it so casually. Coming from a planet surrounded by free-flowing water— a planet where the very core was rich in the resource— often made me forget what a luxury it was. I couldn't help but remember our hike to the waterfalls, seeing again the way Ani had gone speechless at the sight.

Threepio lifted the tray he'd continued to hold. His radiant cheer made it apparent he hadn't picked up on the grimness of the moment. "But a marvelous wedding tradition came from it!"

After throwing the droid a look, Ani explained that when two people intended to marry on Tatooine, it was custom that they brought to the ceremony the cleanest, purest water they could find. Not for themselves— as an offering to their future spouse.

"My mom and Cliegg would've had better water than most. He harvests it, after all. But the symbolism has stuck for thousands of centuries."

"Oh, it was a very special moment for you mother, Master Ani." Threepio had finally read the humans around him, and his modulated voice was affectionate.

I studied Anakin's face as he licked his lips. After a beat, he looked up at me and smiled. "Shall we?"

As I learned, normally Tatooine's version of a holy man would administer a blessing over the contents of the cups. There was a slightly awkward moment as we tried to figure out the best way to proceed with this step.

On the one hand, Brother Luke was a holy man— with the recognized endowment of such sacred authority. But the intent, as I reminded everyone, was for as much as Shmi's wedding to influence our own at this juncture, and for Threepio to stand in importance where she otherwise would have. The droid Anakin had built with his own hands was overwhelmed with appreciation when he was named not only the ordainer of the cups, but— in a wonderful duty my original plan hadn't foreseen— the voice who'd recite the same hallowed rites Shmi and Cliegg Lars heard.

It was a beautiful arrangement. By law, though they may serve as witnesses, droids cannot bestow marriage rites upon a couple. Although the legality of our nuptials was not something Anakin or I desired to broadcast, it mattered that we fully experienced a traditional Tatooine ceremony. We could do so just before shifting to one which would hold up by the standards of Naboo and the Galactic courts— all without technically being married twice, as it would ultimately be Brother Luke who christened us as husband and wife.

Admittedly, it felt strange to stand across from Anakin with the ceramic cup, and to hand it to him as he passed his to me. If a citizen of Naboo randomly walked past, they would have laughed and called us mad. However, all I had to do was look at my groom's expressions to remember how meaningful a trade this was on the only planet he'd known before Coruscant. Anakin had displayed more than enough knowledge about the tradition to make it obvious he'd seen it performed as a child. This meant something to him, and that was all it took for it to matter to me.

What's more, it was the symbolism of the act— not the act itself— which was important, as were the words in Huttese that Threepio delivered with glorious prose.

At the droid's gentle command, my husband-to-be and I drank from our respective cups. Anakin never took his eyes off mine as he gazed at me over his rim.

The mood had unquestionably shifted during the course of this ritual. Where the three of us had been casual before— even offering the occasional bouts of humor— the holy importance had rendered us sedate and sincere. This was a moment ten years in the waiting by calendar standards, but an eternity's worth by whatever calibration souls use.

In the middle of the final proclamation, two perfect words from Threepio's voice swirled around my ears like electric salves.

Anakin Skywalker.

I wanted to wrap the letters in his name around my body, draping the Aurebesh curves around my neck, waist, and legs. I wanted to brand it on my heart for the universe to see.

Finished, we set the cups on the bench next to the glove. Brother Luke, who'd stepped off to the side, acting as both a witness and appreciator of the kinder ways of Tatooine, moved nearer.

"Padmé. Anakin." He looked between us. "Are you ready? Does anyone want to stop?"

I could tell Luke meant the question with humor, but Anakin met my gaze and studied it. From whatever he saw there, he smiled, then he turned to the holy man confidently. "We can't stop this, any more than we can stop the suns from setting."

I peered at him, curious about his plural use; suspecting it was a Tatooine expression. He only answered me with a peaceful smile.

Luke nodded, satisfied. "Well, we should move on to it, yes? Or else that sun shall indeed set behind those mountains."

We took our positions on the terrace, bride and groom each returning to where they'd once stood before a bold Jedi had inched closer for a forbidden kiss. Today, however, we adjusted to give the holy man his due space. I instructed the droids on where to stand, and Brother Luke began.

Anakin had been right. Once the rites started to flow from the Pontifex's mouth, here— where the true power of our love had begun to bloom— I only listened with half an ear. My attention was drawn to the sun god opposite me. The left side of his face reflected the rays off the water.

My love was so wrapped in him that I may as well have been looking at myself. I had infiltrated the crinkle in his eyes when he smiled; the salt in his tears. From now on, a part of me would be in the joints of his shoulders when he steered a starfighter; in the tightness of his grip as he held his saber's hilt. In sleep, I would be in his fine lashes when they kissed the skin under his eyes. Somewhere along the way, I had become Anakin. His continued heartbeat was the insurance policy for my own.

I noticed his lips twitching upwards into short smiles when he heard the sporadic Nabooian word or phrase I had coincidentally taught him. There were so few that I found myself wishing I'd educated him more, but how mystifying, how grand it was that bits of the language I'd shared with him during our previous stay at Varykino were now coming back to touch our hearts during our wedding.

As we stood there, I flashed back to our long moment in the grassy meadow, before we'd mounted the shaak. It was just after our tumble along the hill, when I'd first admitted to myself my attraction to him. We'd stood just like this. Face to face, unknowingly positioning ourselves in our future roles of bride and groom at the altar. On that sunny afternoon, between the waterfalls, the lakes, and the meadow itself, a world of beauty surrounded me, yet I'd only seen him.

And now, just like that day, with a picturesque sunset to my right that rivaled even the most breathtaking vistas Varykino typically offered, I only saw Anakin. No scenic sight on any planet could ever rival him, nor the way he looked at me.

"Padmé?"

Almost startled, I peered to my right, surprised to see Brother Luke regarding me with a look of expectation. "Essë?"

He smiled, an action Anakin joined him in. I got the sense I'd failed to hear a prompt intended solely for me. "Dentuona rhe liyuvën pané lúthir na reyellé nuivénen?"

Do you swear to walk the path with this man in fealty and love for the rest of your days?

"Dentumé lilth shilu tooa. Na reyellé nuivénen. Ta'natal."

I swear by the soil and the stars. For the rest of my days. And for ever after."

Anakin's eyebrows rose a little. This was a longer answer than what he'd been prepared for. I let my loving gaze convey my assurance, and my solemn commitment.

"Anakin?" Brother Luke tried to meet Anakin's eye now, but the young man only gifted him with a flicker of attention before his orbs flew back to me. "Anakin, dentuona rhe liyuvën mané lúthir na reyellé nuivénen?"

The stare grew even more intense. I felt a galaxy's worth of promises in his funneled passion. It was not uncertainty for the pronunciation but by intentional impact that he delivered his oath. "Dentumé… lilth… shilu… tooa."

Too soon, and yet not near soon enough, Brother Luke administered the final blessing. He bade us seal our union with a kiss, before wordlessly excusing himself.

Anakin extended his left palm to me. I took it— my husband's hand— in my soft grip. But I was not yet complete.

He had worn the glove so consistently over his right hand that the gold alloy of the artificial fingers reflected brilliantly in the sunlight, as if the twin stars of his home planet had sent their combined might all the way to our terrace. He'd called himself part-droid not long ago, yet he was only right about one thing— he was indeed only half-man. He was also half-sun god, as he always had been to me, and now even some of him had the gilded reflection to prove it.

As if answering to my silent call, the appendage rose and reached for my touch halfway across the distance— as had always been our style, whether on a hut floor or a homestead bed.

Anakin pulled me in, himself taking a measured step forward. Our noses touched a moment before our foreheads met. In a tiny movement, he nuzzled me briefly— the wild soul, come to prove his gentleness and adoration yet again. The left side of his face and body glowed spectacularly, and I was unfathomably grateful to be so near while witnessing the splendor of his beauty. I wasn't sure if the sun was illuminating the lake and Anakin, or if it was Anakin projecting his light at the sun.

My lids fell closed when our lips reunited. And now I was kissing my husband. Our nuptial dance was soft. Worshipful.

But I missed the breathtaking view of his face. I stopped our dance first and leaned back enough to take in the sight of him again. This was the moment. I had been waiting for this since I realized what a gift my and Anakin's supernatural connection was.

Gazing up at him, I poured all the love and loyalty I could into whatever beacon he used through the Force. I tapped into the purest well of my heart and left its door wide open for him to look inside. I could not find the words to convey the depth of my feelings, but when he smiled softly, I knew my aims had been achieved. With the small curve of his lips, he was telling me he felt it. With his soulful eyes, he was telling me the same limitless love had a reciprocal home in him. It was almost a regret that we'd bothered Brother Luke for his services. He could have made us recite years' worth of poetic commitments, but the most devout vows passed silently between us through a gaze and a bond that had never needed prescribed language.

Our silent, truest pledges concluded, we turned as one to take in the sun's warm light.

A lake of diamonds that out did the cache on the Solleu River spread out before us. The island, directly ahead, sat solidly in the blinding dazzle, promising safe harbor for our eyes.

As beautiful as the sunset was, my heart lurched. Suddenly, I wanted my wedding day to last as long as possible, and yet within minutes it would settle into twilight just after I'd become a married bride. I had an abrupt, terrible feeling that we were on borrowed time. Our path of light was heading towards the jagged horizon, as unstoppable as the waning globe before us.

As Anakin's shoulder and mine pressed into one another, I pushed away my foreboding thoughts. We would have the rest of our lives to watch the sun rise and honor new days. For what was marriage, if not allegiance to each other against the test of time?

I squeezed the only hand of his I held. The metallic fingers squeezed back, but with much more hesitation.

"You don't mind it? Sincerely?"

I looked up and observed the concern in his features. I wasn't at all vexed that the subject kept reappearing, as Anakin wouldn't be asking if the arm didn't truly attack his insecurities. And he seemed to care a great deal what I thought of it. I let go of his hand and lightly gripped his shoulder, turning us to face each other again. I placed my left hand around the meeting spot where skin met metal underneath the robes. "If that saber had struck a few inches closer in," I dragged my fingers directly across his arm to his chest, my hand finally resting over his heart, "you wouldn't be here anymore." I stared into his eyes, trying to convey the emotion my next words did not come close to matching. "That, I would mind very much."

One side of his lips attempted a weak smile, his doubts still clearly evident. That was alright. Time. Time would show Ani I was content with the arm better than anything else could.

He gazed at me then, in the way one does when they're admiring something newly minted and clean. We were new people now, after all. No longer simply Padmé and Anakin, we had new titles. Wife. Husband. These fresh designations had refreshed us too, as if the marriage ceremony washed us of our scars and allowed us a clean page in a new chapter. It was on us to make this priceless gift last beyond the romance of our honeymoon and into the unknown days, months, and years ahead.

"Padmé? Anakin?"

Hands still clasped, we turned to look at the approaching holy man.

He smiled at us warmly. "Congratulations."

"Thank you, Brother Luke," Anakin responded earnestly. "We owe our happiness today to you."

I felt the impulse to walk forward and embrace the older man, but I didn't have it in me to pull my hand out of Anakin's just yet. This was still half of the hold present during our wedding kiss. Once ended, that one-time clasp could never be captured again. Instead, I agreed, "Your involvement will always mean so much to us."

"I am only glad I could play a part." Luke shifted his shoulders in the direction of the mountains. The last rays of the sun were reaching over their tops. "I don't know that we can ever recreate such a beautiful tableau. Padmé," he sighed at me, but with a wink. "We will have to get creative when you renew your vows in front of your family. The Lake Country blessed you both with a flawless stage this evening. It was a perfectly timed sunset wedding."

"There was a sunset?" Anakin's boyish grin grew more reverent when he shifted his eyes to my face. More quietly, he murmured, "I hadn't noticed."

The longer our gazes held, the more I was in real territory of leaning up to kiss him again. Perhaps our inability to hide ourselves from an audience worked in my and Anakin's favor, for once.

"Time for me to depart."

Both of our honeymooner focuses switched to Brother Luke.

There was a long, obvious moment of silence where neither of us said anything.

"No," I tried, breaking the awkward hiatus but not managing to break its awkwardness. My voice was an octave too high. "Stay, please. There's no need to rush your leave."

"Yeah," Anakin cringed out, with the worst attempt at a host's smile I'd ever seen. "Stay."

"Gods. You two," Luke shook his head while chuckling. "May the Force be with you, for your wits won't be." He gestured in the direction of the lake. "Those clouds won't be parted forever. If I don't leave now, I'll have to stay the night." Luke watched as both of our poses went from idle to stricken into a freeze. "If you still want me to stay, then your marriage is already in trouble."

This time, the answering silence didn't last nearly as long.

"Shall I walk you both to the dock?"

"—If I could just have another moment with Padmé to say goodbye, I'll be right with—"

"No, no, no. If you don't mind going without one of your speeders for the night, I can take myself across and tie it to the ferry dock."

"I'd be happy to taxi you back, Brother Luke."

"It's the least we can do." Although, I would be counting the agonizing seconds until Anakin returned.

He put a palm into the air, stopping us. "Thank you. I appreciate the courtesy. But I was raised on these lakes. The day I can no longer steer a watercraft is the day I will want to be buried."

Manners I cursed forced the words out. "At least let us send you with a quickly prepared dinner." What that would be, I hadn't the faintest idea. Nandi and Teckla were gone, and I could only hope that, of the two of us, Anakin knew how to cook. I was Jobal Naberrie's daughter, but I had not inherited her talent in the kitchen.

"She's right." Poor Anakin tried his best, but actually speaking through gritted teeth didn't do him any favors. "At least let us thank you with a meal."

Brother Luke openly laughed at us. "Alright, you've made your point! You're both very polite. Goodness. I was once a newlywed too. I couldn't get rid of our wedding guests fast enough." He began walking closer, his eyes twinkling. "I ran to our suite with her in my arms." He shook his head and patted each of us on the shoulder. "I can pilot the speeder myself. You two don't need to spend your first minutes of marriage performing an unnecessary errand."

"It's no trouble—"

"Actually…" I interrupted Anakin. My husband. "If you truly don't mind taking it to the other shore, that works well for what I had in mind."

Ani's interest was piqued. "Which was?"

I grinned at him. "I was thinking we could do some racing together while we're here, in the speeders. We can take one to the other dock to retrieve the other boat, and then concoct a course. It won't be podracing, but…"

He squeezed my hand, passing the bolt of excitement that went through him into me. "You would do that?"

"I know who I married."

"Can I modify my engine?"

I stared back at the prodigy who could propel himself with the Force, angle the hull to his desire, and all while flipping my boat over with a flick of his fingers. Not to mention, he could use whatever insight he picked up from my emotions to his benefit during the race. "Don't you already have enough advantages, Master Jedi?"

He nodded and stood straighter, taking his humbled gaze back to our amused observer. "Right."

I shifted to look at Brother Luke. "Thank you, again. Truly." I smiled at him while stealing quick glances at Anakin. It was almost embarrassing, but I couldn't pry my eyes off my husband long enough to sustain eye contact with anyone or on anything else. The second I looked away from him, my vision fought to return. "We're both so grateful to you for administering the marriage rites." Finally, I set my gaze intently on Brother Luke. "So long," I hedged, feeling a mixture of thanks and reluctant hesitation. "As you keep such wonderful remembrances to yourself."

Luke bowed solemnly, lifting one of his hands to rest it over his heart. "I will not fail you, Padmé." He nodded at my husband. "Anakin."

After one last warm smile, our holy man headed out of the courtyard, in the direction of the path that would lead him to Varykino's dock. Anakin and I were now the only two beings at the lake house.

The only living beings.

In tune with my thoughts yet again, Anakin turned to face our witnesses. "Artoo, Threepio, thank you. We'd like to be alone now. You both can go—" He waved a hand haphazardly in the general area of the lodge. "—anywhere. Just," he stole a look at me, and I thought I saw him blushing. "Stay off the third floor."

Ah. The level our bedrooms— bedroom?— were on. Our honeymoon suite. No droids allowed. We should've made a sign.

Artoo whistled a nonplussed tune and spun around to make his departure, beeping something at his golden counterpart as he went. Threepio, ignoring the "Come along" call, promptly began a farewell which included many very nice blessings, but began verging on the self-indulgent with its length. Every time I thought he was winding down, he'd start up again, and it was close to five minutes before Anakin amusedly shushed and got him on his way before we spent our first night of marriage listening to the droid drone on in the rain.

I hadn't minded it too much. I'd realized, at some point during Threepio's flowery talk, that this was the only wedding speech we newlyweds were to hear. This was the extent of our wedding reception. Brother Luke's kiss to my temple earlier prompted me to try to envision Threepio's words coming out of my father's face.

Would he be the tearful parent, usually always so composed, but a weepy wreck at seeing his youngest daughter married off?

Would my mother have been at his side passing him a handkerchief, shaking her head and smiling?

Would Sola be off to the side, laughing through her own tears at all this, capturing it with her holocamera?

Separate from the droid's praising speech, I tried to imagine the opposite— the stern but well-intended words of caution my father would've slipped into his toast, warning Anakin not to break his little girl's heart, or else. And then we would all laugh, even my comically serious father, everyone knowing Anakin seemed created to love and protect me.

So involved was I in this fantasy that I hadn't the heart to cut Threepio off, but I was nevertheless grateful when my husband did.

As Threepio finally trotted away, I nestled my face into the fabric on Anakin's chest contently. Finally letting go of my hand, he wrapped his arms closely around me and turned his head to the side, resting his cheek on the top of my veil. We took several silent, wonderful minutes to simply relish in our true solitude. For the first time in far too many hours, the only company we had was finally only each other.

It was a long time before I let any semblance of the outside world sneak back into my awareness. When I spoke, it came out with a sigh. "A wedding on the eve of war."

His head straightened, and now I was tucked under his chin instead of his cheek. I felt his jaw move against the crown of my head as he questioned, "Do you regret that we didn't wait till after the war ends?"

I didn't hesitate. "No. Do you?" I pulled back to look up at him.

"No." His voice was as honest as mine. More lightly, he added, "The last war we ended together, there was a big parade." He smiled down at me. "Remember?"

"Of course." My responsive smile faded. I placed my cheek on his chest again, finding his clear heartbeat in the exact inch of skin where I knew I would. "As terrible as that war was, it was isolated to just this one planet. How many will this war encompass?"

He kissed the top of my head, speaking his reply into my veil as he held me closer to him. "That just means we'll have to have a bigger parade when we win." I heard the smile enter his voice. "It will be the final mission. Operation Out-Do Naboo."

I giggled into his chest. Enough. No more talk of war. Today is for us. He'd been right— back on the ship today. I wanted to forget for as long as I could that I wasn't just a wife now, I was the wife of a warrior going into armed conflict— against an enemy who'd specialized in making weaponry droids for over a decade. I took in a deep breath of his scent. I could feel my head rise and fall with the breathing happening in his own chest.

"I don't want there to be any secrets between us."

The seriousness of his tone caught me off guard. "I want that as well."

"There's… something I need to tell you."

He spoke with unexpected weight. I steeled myself, heart quickening. I attempted a jab at humor, if just to quiet my own nerves. "Are you about to tell me something I should have known before I agreed to marry you?"

I pulled back to look at him squarely. His face was somber. He wasn't looking at me. "Perhaps."

My concern grew. Was the first test of our marriage truly going to come before we'd even left the altar? "Tell me."

"My love," his non-mechanical finger reached up to trace the outline of my cheek. "I know how to swim."

I blinked. "Because… I… taught you?"

But his face already said it all. That cheeky grin, barely even trying to look shameful.

Oh, he was good.

"Anakin!" I erupted with semi-fake outrage, my cries of indignation punctuated by giveaway pockets of laughter. I plummeted his chest and forearms with light but firm hits with my clenched fists. "I swam actual circles around you trying to teach you. And you stood there watching while I tired myself out?!"

His hands came up to grab mine as he laughed with me. "I had quite a good view where I was."

"The nerve, you!— I ought to— Don't you read the HoloNet? Don't you know who I am? I'm the new Super-Solidier-Senator for the Republic's Secret Arm—

But my husband seized the chance to capture the assaulting bride and silenced me with his lips. I reflexively closed my eyes in immediate surrender. His hands cradled the sides of my face. This was different from the sweet, ceremonial kiss we'd just shared. It felt more like a pickup from our very first kiss, which had manifested footsteps away from this very spot. But where that exchange was excited, yet unsure, this was boldly confident. It promised more. It transformed my ineffectual fists, melting them down into grips I used to snake up and around his neck, pulling him closer to me.

Wrapping a mischievous finger around his Padawan braid, lips still moving in hypnotic rhythm with his, I managed the mental clarity to suddenly gave the long hair strand a tug. Hard.

"Ow!"

Punishment discharged. I smiled victoriously. He looked down at me with surprise, but he was grinning. I saw the fire that was surely in my eyes reflected back in his. Brown met blue, and all became passionate red.

At last. Any lingering insecurities and nervousness melted away. Thrilled with what was to come next, I leaned into the roles of intimate partners we were about to become.

I looked at the flicks of dark blue in the otherwise light cerulean of his eyes. "Take me to our bedroom, Anakin." His lips parted, his breathing noticeably changing at my words. My own lips parted in response, the folds suddenly desperately thirsty again for his. "No more waiting."

In a quick sweep, he pulled me into his arms in the same motion as his first long step towards the villa. The long fabric of my dress draped over his arm like white water.

He must've been using the Force to aid him, because he didn't take his eyes off my face while he carried me up the atrium stairs to the second floor.

By the time we reached the threshold of my bedroom, every nerve ending on my skin was yearning for touch. As he settled me down before the bed, I smiled up at him, impressed. But my breath was shallow with adrenaline's effects. "You got us here from the balcony in record time."

His lips captured mine in a quick kiss before answering. "That's a record I intend to test," another kiss, "and break" another, "many more," yet another, "times." He finally planted an extended liplock, but I was distressed when he ended it by stepping away. "There's something I want to say."

"It can wait." Because I can't.

"No," Anakin took a deep breath. He shook his head while he found his bearings. "I need to. You need to know." He swallowed. "After I left you— at the homestead— I only tried to feel you in the Force a few times when I was searching for my mother."

Instinctively, a comforting hand rose to stroke his cheek.

"Oh, Anakin, you don't have to explain—"

"No, let me… It wasn't that I couldn't sense her, especially the closer I got to her." His vision grew distant, as if he'd momentarily returned to the desert of the twin suns world. I almost did or said something to call him back from his pain, but I stayed immobile, granting him the space to say this. "Her life force wasn't… it wasn't very strong anymore. But it was enough." Burdened eyes shifted to look at me again, but for all intents and purposes, he still appeared like he was far away in his memories. "I knew I'd left you with good people, but you were still on Tatooine. I was your assigned protector who'd just left you defenseless." He shook his head like a wild creature. "So, during my search, I still reached out and felt you regularly, just to make sure you were safe where I'd left you. And after, when… after I…" He paused, tense. I watched as he took a few breaths to relax himself. "When it was time to return to the homestead, I could have flown the route blind." His wet eyes radiated love. "You were a brilliant light, leading me back in a straight line to my soul."

Regret for the hours of the day we'd lost after his confession on the ship seized my chest. I stroked both sides of his face with the back of my hand. "I'm so glad you can feel me when we're apart, Ani." My eyes blurred with tears. "Gods, what I would give for the same ability."

Anakin's voice took on a growing edge. "I-I tried to feel you the other night, when I was at the Temple and you were at your apartment. My pain, my anger… it clouded everything. I can see your building from the Jedi Temple, but besides being able to sense that you were there, I couldn't feel you. I wasn't whole. It was like I'd lost a sense as personal to me as sight or hearing." Lines, more determined than pained, appeared on his forehead. "But I won't ever have that problem again." He smiled at me, all light returning to his face. "I'll practice until I feel like I'm standing in the same room with you." His eyes softened even more. "It shouldn't be hard, now that I'll know that's where my wife is."

I hadn't expected such a strong answer, and I stared back at him mutely. A storm of reactions tumbled inside me. Grief for what he'd gone through with his mother. Bewilderment at the strength of his powers, in particular when it came to me. Gratitude that we'd had a chance to dispel his anger so he could find my love again.

I closed my eyes and sent out a fervent prayer. Surely, in this holy space of our marriage suite, as I stood before the very altar of my church, even the Force would hear someone like me.

For whatever we will face in our unpredictable future, please, let any mistrustful clouds that attempt to block us again always part enough for Anakin to believe… I love him. Deeply. Truly.

My eyes opened, and I likewise opened my mouth to speak. But 'I love you' wasn't enough. I needed new words, new languages to express the cosmic level of this passion and utter devotion. "I am yours," I breathed, trusting him to be strong enough to bear my pains. "I am yours," I repeated, offering to him my love, my body, my future, my soul, my life, my joy. "I'm yours," I vowed with permission and blessing, urgency lifting me to the top of my feet, so I could erase the inches between us and grip the back of his head with my fingers. "I am yours," I spoke against his lips, aching with the primal need to cement it.

He met me in weakness and strength, but this time, he took his time exploring my mouth. His fingers traced a path up and down my arms at a leisurely speed I wouldn't have been capable of and found insufficient. I failed to stifle a moan of protest. He smiled against my lips, though his quiet shaking gave him away. Every second of this was just as meaningful to him as it was to me.

"Slow, slow." Not the words I wanted to hear. He must've sensed my dissatisfaction, because he pulled back and took my chin gently in his human hand, leaning in so close I could feel his breath in my nose. "Padmé." A wild grin flashed on his face, almost manic. "I am a good Jedi. I try to be. I try very hard." His hand slipped from my chin, down my neck, danced across my collar bone, and went lower. I gasped softly as his hand cupped my breast. I leaned into his touch, my eyelids drooping as my lips ached for his. He looked like a man barely hanging on to his restraint. And why restrain at all? I could barely formulate coherent thoughts, yet here he was giving a monologue on his Jedi discipline? Now? Of all times?

"Anakin," I moaned, not with annoyance. With need.

"I have tried very hard to be a good Jedi," he affirmed one last time. "But," his eyes darkened as he closed the last of the space between us. "I have imagined this, with you— only with you— many, many times."

His hands were at my hips, where they belonged. Back up to my rib cage, as they had ownership there as well. Caressing my back, his fingers surveying the lace even as they entangled themselves in my hair. My skin burned through the thin fabric where his hands scorched their path. Up was down, down was up, and only his touch kept me from getting lost in the spinning. Anakin, ever my anchor.

"I'm going to savor this. I want to show you how precious you are to me. We're going to take this slow." I trembled in anticipation as I hung on his every word. "At least," he moved down as if to kiss me. A centimeter away from making contact, he paused. He actually dared to pause. My eyelids fluttered, questioningly, hungrily. "At first."

Love and lust intermingled like we'd invented their recipes. I stared back at this marvel of a man, my husband, his wants and desires now fully mirrored in myself. And with that understanding, my head gradually slanted backwards in invitation. As I'd hoped, he took the opportunity to finally bring his lips to my skin. A moan escaped my throat, my hands gripped his shoulders, and then there was only Anakin.


His agony somehow became an invisible hand, stretching out through the Force, a hand that found her, far away, alone in her apartment in the dark, a hand that felt the silken softness of her skin and the sleek coils of her hair, a hand that dissolved into a field of pure energy, of pure feeling that reached inside her—

And now he felt her, really felt her in the Force, as though she could have been some kind of Jedi, too, but more than that: he felt a bond, a connection, deeper and more intimate that he'd ever had before with anyone, even Obi-Wan; for a precious instant he was her… he was the beat of her heart and he was the motion of her lips and he was her soft words as though she spoke a prayer to the stars—

I love you, Anakin. I am yours, in life, and in death, wherever you go, whatever you do, we will always be one. Never doubt me, my love. I am yours.

and her purity and her passion and the truth of her love flowed into him and through him and every atom of him screamed to the Force how can I let her die?

— Matthew Stover, Revenge of the Sith novelization