I'll leave my last Author's Note here. Forgive me, but there's a lot to say.

1. I can never thank you all enough for the reviews you have gifted me. I'm reading every one. I've emailed screenshots of many to my loved ones. I'm forever the writer nervously coming back to fanfiction after 15 years away, who is breathless that anyone wants to read or follow along with(!) my work. Thank you.

2. If you're interested in my future work, including statuses on one-shots or longfics mentioned in A/Ns, you'll be able to see a detailed rundown of these on my bio page soon. The short version is, I'm going to take a 90% hiatus from writing fanfiction in order to pursue a career as a self-publishing author of original romantic fiction on Amazon. I thank YOU all for giving me the confidence to pursue this life-long dream. For those interested, my professional pen name will be available once I have my first work up.

4. Now that the fic is done, I plan to go through it chapter-by-chapter to catch typos and grammar mistakes in a way I've never had time to before. I've already started this process with a few chapters, and the perfectionist in me has screamed at some very obvious errors ("Tuscan Raiders"? Really, R-A-P?). I've been gobsmacked in the best way by those who've told me they want to get Suppression printed into an actual book. I just ask that they, and anyone else who plans to download a full file of the fic, give me till the end of December to clean up the typos and leave you with the most professional looking story I can.

5. As said in my very first A/N, the epilogue was written very early (pre-posting of the prologue). Because of that, for a year, the last line of the entire fic was established, and I quite liked it… except for one thing. I can play Across the Stars on the piano; the final note is an F. It's a long piece, with five pages of sheet music, full of complicated segments that demand you play them just right. To reach that final F note is an odd mixture of relief and sadness. You don't want it to end, and especially not in such a haunting way. But end it must.

I wanted to find a way to end the fic with a word that starts with an F. The thing is, I liked the original sentence so much, I never managed to find a different ending line I liked better. It was only a few weeks ago I realized— shocked that I've never seen it before— that while the very last word of the fic does not start with an F… it ends with one. It always has. Therefore, coincidentally but most appropriately, the last letter of Suppression is the same alphabetic note that Across the Stars finishes on.

6. Finally, this fanfic was born out of a deep appreciation and love for the hard work by Natalie Portman, Hayden Christensen, Jake Lloyd, and others (Trisha Bigger, John Williams, Robin Gurland, etc). If not for them and their magic, Anakin and Padmé would not still be inspiring and breaking hearts to this day. It was a profound joy to see Hayden and Ewan reunite in the Kenobi series, and to see the Hayden Renaissance taken even higher in Ahsoka. My dearest wish is for Natalie to one day rejoin the SW universe on screen too.

Here, at the end, I'm thinking about the beginning— not to when I started posting the first chapters; not to when I found the spark to finally write this idea down that I'd been carrying for twenty years; not even back to seeing Attack of the Clones. Back to the earliest days of Anakin and Padmé fanfiction. We're talking spring 2001, when FFN was just an infant— the early gems that started a passion that's carried on for two decades. There were some truly brilliant, creative fanfic writers who intuitively knew we were all heading towards something special. They played with imagined scenarios before we ever heard a whisper of the plot of Episode II. It was AU before we knew what was and wasn't going to be AU. And then captivating authors did it again before we knew the plot of Episode III.

So.

In honor of them,

in honor of the many, many authors who have beautifully contributed to this ship over the years,

in callback to one of my favorite Author's Disclaimers I saw in the pre-Disney days,

and most of all, in tribute to the OG writer of Anakin and Padmé,

I'll say thank you, and tip my hat with this:

"It's the flannel god's world. I'm just playing in it."

Thank you, George, for giving us this world to play in.

Chapter 61. Padmé Amidala Naberrie Skywalker

Kill me tomorrow; let me live tonight
— William Shakespeare, Othello (character: Desdemona)

With exception given to tyrannies, the point of political tolerance is to stomach appetites beyond our own. If we force the same diet on everyone, everyone starves. If we remove their seats from the table of voices, all will stand paralyzed on weakened legs. The collapse of almost all governments begins due to failures within, and democracies are not immune.

There's an irony that a child born outside of the Republic would be so instrumental to its fall.

Despite the odds of his home world origins, Anakin was a wide-eyed, altruistic, hopeful child. That alone is a testament to his natural purity. He was a passionate and loving man, one who chased life with such gusto even the future struggled to keep up with him. But Anakin suffered under the increasing pressure of tragedy from the moment he was born.

The slave, whose freedom came at the cost of walking away from his mother.

Tragedy pressed.

The childhood dream of becoming a Jedi, amazingly realized, only to find that his heroes and adopted family didn't understand him— even openly distrusted him.

Tragedy pressed.

He found true love and all the explosive joy it brings, only to live with it smothered under shadows by our fear of discovery.

Tragedy pressed.

I failed him too. I clung to my ideals so much I became blinded by them. For years, I was a vocal supporter of the man who would be our destruction. My front row seat grew less and less cozy over time, but I didn't see how Palpatine was the chess maker playing both sides. All the political acumen and room reading talent I thought I had failed to sniff out his rot. When I finally did, the fires he'd started were already licking our feet.

After a lifetime of heartache, when my husband desperately bargained everything to save what remaining beauty he had in his life, Tragedy only laughed at him. It gleefully pressed down its thumb once and for all, snuffing out the light as the fire rose to full power.

Do you know the irony of this— the worst kind of fire? It has mutated and adapted itself to thwart the expected rules. It isn't bright. It isn't hot. It is cold. It leaves its victim breathing but barren. It only survives in darkness, and yet, it consumes more savagely than any other breed of flame.

One of my most unbearable fears is that even the people who loved Anakin the most were the ones unknowingly holding the first torches to his feet. I seek merciful pardon for any flame I unwittingly held. That was never my intention.

That being said, as I've made clear before in my testimony— there are laws which run under a different discretion than the ones ruled by logic and rationale. That is why I cannot, I cannot forgive Obi-Wan Kenobi for stowing away aboard my ship. Once, long ago, he chastised Anakin for using me as bait.

My, how the hypocrisy came full circle.

I told Anakin in the yacht's bunk that I'd need to invest in more hairbrushes— such was his tendency to put his feasting hands into my hair. I should have said scissors. As rapturous as our first time as husband and wife was— and I'm proud to say, despite our inexperience, it somehow surpassed all expectations— we found out very quickly that, though I'd wanted his golden hand free for our wedding ceremony, the design was not well-made for entrenching in hair. Most of my outcries were of pleasure that first hour. Not all.

I'd tried not to embarrass him, but it was a quick agreement when Anakin offered to put the glove back on. My husband tried very, very hard to Force float that glove from the bench outside to us without him leaving our bed, but there were too many blind corners.

And I didn't exactly help him in keeping his mind clear. I encouraged his efforts while straddling his lap with nothing but sweat between us. He eventually resigned himself to travel the thirty or so (with his long strides) steps to retrieve it himself. From the amount of time it took for us to say farewell in the bed, one would've have thought he was an expeditionist leaving on a years-long quest. He could have recovered the glove twelve times over in the period it took to pry ourselves out of each other's arms.

But all became worth it the moment his bare bottom left the sheets, and I've never been so pleased to watch Anakin leave my side. He found a very spirited wife waiting for him when he dashed back into the room in a new record time— aided all the more by the fact that he'd had to run through an avalanche of rain during his mission. With water droplets falling from his hair, eyelashes, and skin, it was my island beach fantasy come to stunning reality.

After having had to endure our first "separation" as a married couple, our union in bed began with fervor. We spent luscious hours making up for days lost to miscommunications. But alas, our forms were mortal even if our appetites for each other were not, and we eventually gave our bodies a break.

At present, I was basking in twin moons' glow on the veranda outside our bedroom. High on my left, Ohma-D'un charged its northern hemisphere up behind a barricade of clouds, facing off against the rising Veruna like they were going to use the sky as their battlefield. Below them, the natural realm of Varykino was quieter now. Cleansed, but tired. Its land was drenched and the former occupants in its trees still sheltered. I stood in roughly the same place where I'd been when Anakin and I marveled at the stars after Cordé's funeral. Unlike then, I wore nothing now but a silky, purple blanket draped low around my shoulders, my hand binding it together in a grasp at my chest. Anakin had darted off to the kitchen— our fifth separation, after individual trips to the fresher had been taken (yes, we were still counting)— to fetch reinforcements for our famished stomachs. The idea was, if he went alone, he'd be back faster than if we went together and got… sidetracked along the way.

Missing him, I turned my head towards the billowing curtains, as if I could will my husband into existence from sheer determination. But the drapes from our bedroom remained Anakin-less.

Our bedroom. During one of our pauses earlier, I'd curiously asked him why he'd chosen my room without hesitation when bringing us from our marriage altar. Technically, when counting the steps from the top of the stairway in the entry atrium to our respective bedroom doors, his was closer. He'd smiled like a nexu and informed me that after craving entrance into my room so many times during our previous stay, the opportunity to consummate our vows there was too seductive to pass up. The conversation had briefly continued, wherein we promised to celebrate our marriage in his old bedroom, and many, many other spots around the lake house in the coming days. We were maybe only halfway through making our exhaustive list of a tour when our stirring imaginations cut us off, and we made glorious do with our initial location yet again.

Rest assured, I was well aware that by the end of my honeymoon, I was never going to live through a vacation here with Sola and my parents the same way ever again. I would have to dip into my box of heavy makeup creams to hide the blush which would surely rise every time I walked into another room.

I sighed in peace and listened to the environment around me. Water dripped off leaves and bushes like tears from a weeping lover. The moistened stone under my bare feet was cool.

I felt him approaching before I heard him. Light fingertips started at the middle of my spine and traveled lower, until his hand encircled my hip, pulling me into his side as he stepped forward.

"I left the food by our bed." Our bed. His nose buried itself in my hair. I shivered with instant arousal when I heard his throaty inhale. "I figured we'd be back there soon enough."

He had the right idea, but presently, my appetite only burned for one thing— my husband's touch. I made no move to return to the curtains, and so neither did he.

"I want to swim to the island tomorrow," he whispered, his tongue and lips moving against my ear. "There's a hut I would like us to revisit." He ran his hands up and down my arms, and I closed my eyes and leaned further against him. I had a pretty good idea of what he had in mind for our trip.

"I like that idea," I murmured. "I'll add it to the list."

Lips nuzzled my cheek. He was making his way closer to my lips. "It was already on mine."

I smiled. "You can take the bag."

He pulled back, confused. "The bag?"

I turned enough in his hold to look up at him. "A waterproof one, to take some blankets."

The island was where the electrical attraction between me and Anakin exploded for the first time into a full-on, undeniable lightning storm— figuratively and literally. I changed my wardrobe from darling yellow picnic corsets to black, skin-clamping, synthetic leather bindings because of the charge I felt simply from lying next to him. I was as keen to return to the hut as he was, for the same reason he had— but I wasn't going to bare myself on that dirty floor again. One time in a scanty swimsuit was enough. I would put a broom in the waterproof bag if I thought it would fit.

I grinned, though my eyes narrowed. "You can sling the bag over your back and swim with it. After all, you're such an expert swimmer."

He laughed off my pointed remark. "Yes, milady."

I turned further and draped my hands behind his neck, bringing the long linen up to envelop both of our bodies inside it. Although the rest of him was bare down to his feet, he'd put on pants for his run to the kitchen. I, however, was naked along the full length of him. Even despite our consummated union, my brazenness shocked me. I'd worn countless dresses in my career— the conservative, the elaborate, the clandestine. But apparently, going forward, my favorite attire of all was to be the private ensemble of bare skin that I'd reserve exclusively for my husband.

"I had an idea."

"Hmm?" I prompted, swaying a little in his arms. So far, I'd been very, very, very impressed with my husband's ideas ever since he'd begun fulfilling the role.

"I thought of something I can do for Paddy."

This was perhaps the last thing I expected him to say, but I was nevertheless intrigued. "Go on."

"I can supply him with," he stopped, frowning. "Well, you can supply him, I mean, with droids. I'll collect and modify them so they can take care of all the duties around the villa. Then you can present the droids like they came from you, so we can avoid questions."

"Oh." I stopped swaying and grew somber. Ani noticed quickly.

"All I'm saying is, with enough droids, Paddy will never have to worry about falling off a ladder ever again. He's not going to get any younger. I can build him a whole team."

"And put him out of a job?"

"Well, when you put it that way…" But Anakin's full motives couldn't keep the stars out of his eyes. "But it would leave Varykino open for whenever we needed private use of it."

"I don't know…"

Anakin continued as if he hadn't heard my reluctance. "That's not all."

"There more?"

He nodded. "There are many rooms gathering dust in this place. I want to turn one of them into a workspace where I can store parts for building and repairing more droids. Somewhere reclusive, where it won't be in the way of other guests to the villa."

Otherwise known as, Ani didn't want Pooja and Ryoo messing with his fusion-welders, computer chips, and small sensor packages, nor walking near junk piles higher than their heads.

At this thought, I pictured one of Varykino's wide rooms filled to the ceiling with droid parts— the way he'd described his Padawan dorm to be. It had been humorous to hear about… as a story from the far-removed breakfast table. "Ahh… well…"

Two crescent moons formed as the dimples bordering his wide smile. "I'd like to do all this, but only under one condition."

I scoffed, but I was laughing. "You want to confiscate my family's estate, put the groundskeeper out of work, and now you want to tell me what the conditions are?"

"One condition," he corrected with a smile. After a moment, he grew sincere. He held me tighter in his arms. "I only want a garage if we can turn another space into an art studio for you. I want to see you return to ceramics."

My lips slowly pulled back into a vivid expression of joy. I could have levitated on the spot. "We'll see what we can do." I tilted my head, as I was now on board as a co-conspirator. "Maybe… we can find two rooms for each purpose that are situated near each other."

"Even better if they have a bedroom between them— for when we want to take breaks from our work."

I smiled at his incoming kiss. "I was thinking the same."

After finishing the celebration of our plan, I rested against him for a long while, the both of us looking out over the water. Sometimes we talked, sometimes we kissed, but mostly we were just content to be in each other's hold.

At one point, there was something different in the way he clutched me closer to him. Intuition flared. "What are you thinking about?"

It was a long time before he spoke.

"I wish my mother knew how happy I am."

I lifted my head off his bare chest to place a kiss just above his wounded heart. "I know."

"Not only her." His weight shifted against me as he re-balanced himself slightly. Ani's unfocused gaze stretched out in the direction of the lake. "I found myself wishing Obi-Wan was there today."

This was surprising— not that he wasn't an important part of Anakin's life, but I couldn't imagine Master Kenobi wishing us well and promising to keep quiet the same as our holy man had.

Beyond this, whenever Anakin talked about Obi-Wan, half the time he seemed openly disdainful. Other times, he'd revere him with blatant hero worship. I had read tax code legislation that was easier to understand than their relationship.

But I felt the grief in his tone, and how it was spoken with almost the same sorrow as when he'd brought up his mother. "I'm sorry he couldn't be there, Ani." My tone was melancholic.

A loving kiss to my hair. "Don't be. The most important person was there. That's all that matters."

"Threepio?"

As I'd hoped, I felt his chest rattle against mine. "How did you know?"

"I see the way you two look at each other."

"What can I say? Those unblinking flashlight eyes just get me going."

I laughed against him. We fell into another comfortable silence. Eventually, I ventured, "I know I recommended him… but I hope we were right to put our trust in Brother Luke." Even after a long wait, Anakin didn't respond, and I playfully shook him a little without lifting my head off his chest. "Are you still there?"

His chin plopped onto the top of my head. "I'm here. I was just thinking about your last warning to him before he left."

"My warning?" Maybe it was my imagination, but the connotative flavor of the word left something to be desired. "You understand the need for secrecy as well as I do."

There was no reply. I stepped back from Anakin enough to see him in the moonlight. "What is it?"

He lifted a shoulder in tandem with the same side of his lips, but his features were etched in grave seriousness. "I knew I'd leave the Order for you before we even left for Tatooine. All you had to do was say the words."

{What can I do? I will do anything that you ask.}

"And then, today, once the vows were said… everything became even clearer than it already was. I-I felt this sense, this prophetic feeling that I w—" He hesitated, timidly biting his teeth into his bottom lip. Even then, the wisest part of me didn't trust when Anakin smiled and shook his head, tucking his thoughts away from me like mines under the sand. Experience reminded me that such hazards almost never reveal themselves without hostile trigger, and rarely under idyllic circumstances. Ultimately, he finished, "Padmé, you're always going to be my first priority. People do retire from the Order. It's happened before."

This was news to me. I thought the oath was taken for life.

"How many have walked away?"

He grimaced at my question. "Ahh. Over the entire history?… The Lost Twenty."

"This club has a name?"

"Shhh, it won't be like that."

"But you want to be a Jedi."

"I do." He fixed me with his classically intense stare. "But I'll always want you more."

I was at a crossroads, hedging between wanting to dive into another lecture on committing ourselves to the greater good and his obvious calling as Jedi, and wanting to swoon at his romantic heart that was so abundant with love for me. I settled on utilizing The Honeymoon Excuse— honoring our duty to public service could wait longer than the very first night of our marriage. This private retreat, more than any other, was for us to honor our new roles as husband and wife.

Moving slowly, I draped my arms up around his neck again, but this time, I let the linen slide out from between my fingers. I stood completely bare in his arms, the blanket a silk puddle around my feet. With an ironic smile, I remembered the version of myself from just a few short weeks ago, who'd hid from this man behind a yellow couch. Seeking propriety, that opposite self had clutched the neckline of her nightgown as if she could hold her very modesty together— innocence and distance I was now all too happy to relinquish. I placed a long, intent-laden kiss on my husband's swollen lips.

When I pulled back, he was watching me with those eyes I would never tire of.

I gazed back daringly. "Prove it."

Hours later, after eventually permitting ourselves the refueling of food— and even a little sleep— the sound of thunder woke us from our slumber.

Instead of being dismayed by the storm and our prospects for swimming, we found tranquil bliss in watching the liquid curtain pour down outside. Besides, there would be plenty to do around the villa if the rain didn't abate. We were fervent newlyweds, after all.

This easy acceptance was why my husband and I stood in the archway between our bedroom and the veranda, the white drapes slowly floating around us. We had the perfect vantage point to watch the rain cascade without being misted by it. Or, if we were, it was kept separate from us by the singular bed sheet surrounding both of our naked bodies. Anakin's anchoring stance had him leaning on the door frame, and I stood with my backside melded against him. The fabric of our shield encircled us from his back all the way around to my front. There was enough linen leftover to tie the remainder into a convenient knot at my bosom, leaving all hands free. Underneath our makeshift cocoon, his arms held me to him, and my fingers absent-mindley stroked his forearms and hands as we watched the rain fall.

Very few memories of my life can compete with the pure happiness I felt that morning. The only hint that the sun was rising was a muted yellow hue in the low, gray clouds. For close to an hour, we watched as they relieved themselves of the rain, the two of us standing in serene silence almost the entire time. Every once in a while, he'd randomly lean closer in to place a kiss to one of my cheeks, or in my wavy hair. But for the most part, we relaxed in relative stillness, my head languidly fallen upon his collarbone.

Before we'd slipped into our extended quiet, I'd asked my husband if he minded rain on our honeymoon. He answered that a rain storm was the closest thing to magic he could dream of on Tatooine, and that to him, it wasn't even an inconvenience— it was a good omen. I mused over how I'd enjoyed watching rain showers since I was a little girl, always enchanted, soothed, and reset by their sight and sounds. As I stood in his embrace, a smile graced my lips, private to my own knowing. Of course I would fall in love with a man who appreciated rain just as much as I did, even if, or maybe because, he came from a desert planet.

After our brief comments, the only sounds were the continuous landings of water on the ancient balustrade, the patio, and on the leaves of the vegetation as they withstood the offering of more elixir. Naboo was replenishing herself before our very eyes, and instead of treating the storm as a foreboding shadow on our marriage, we bought into the idea that we were becoming as full of life and promise as the lush region around us.

Perhaps I should have remembered, there's such a construct as too much of a good thing. Too much rain will bring forth floods and catastrophe.

As it were, I was reveling in my happy abundance that first morning as a married woman. I felt that everything around us was a daydream come to life. The nail of my right index finger lightly designed a wife's tattoos into the back of his human hand. My thoughts drifted, but I always came back to the same marvelous thought: I had a husband— a young man, beyond question— but one unlike any being I'd ever met. Although I was aware of his flaws and transgressions, I was so completely in awe of him. How could there not be a prophecy about a man such as this?

"The Chosen One," I whispered, breaking a long silence.

His arms squeezed me tighter, while his lips kissed low, planting themselves where my neck met my right shoulder. When he lifted and spoke, I felt the words as they moved from the hollow of his throat to my ear. "Chosen by you." He sighed deeply, and my chest moved in sync. "The only chosen one I need to be."

I smiled, in love to an unimaginable degree. Then there was no more talk or thought of prophecies. We stayed in that doorway for a prolonged while until even after the rain stopped, only departing when Anakin let loose the knot, picked me up, and carried me back to our bed.

One of my new favorite activities in life was watching Anakin sleep. It alone made the gift of existence worth it.

He was on his stomach, and his arms were tucked under the pillow in front of him. His left leg was bent and slung possessively over my own left one. His quiet snore was leisurely, his expression untroubled.

Although I was immobile on my half of the mattress, my body did not feel that way. It tricked my mind into thinking it was moving in undulation, as one feels when they step off a boat and attempt to live again on land, but their bodies only remember the water's currents. My handmaidens had never told me to expect this— how it lingers in the hours after, the immobile body continuing to rock to rhythms the blood still moves to.

I was sore, and I ached in intimate, inner spots I wasn't used to feeling— much less aching in. He had been considerate and gentle, until I was ready for him not to be. My expectations for his… endurance… in lovemaking had not been high, but I'd vastly underestimated what ten years of mind-body meditation can do.

Though Anakin hadn't said it explicitly, I knew most of the breaks we'd taken were suggested by him specifically for my sake. But no pause ever ended soon enough. For the rest of my days, I didn't want to wear another fragrance on my body save for the smell of his skin. It would forevermore be my favorite perfume. If resorted to it, I would roll in the soil of his grave.

Ashes, Padmé. Ashes. Anakin is a Jedi.

My mind knew the fact, but my heart remembered the knoll at Edum Talla in the low cliffs of the Lake Country. There, an ample mixture of flowers bring color to the grassy burial ground. The sight of the lake just beyond the bluff is magnificent.

At Edum Talla is a statue which has always resonated with me. It stands in the center of the cemetery— a winged goddess with her arms outstretched towards the sky. After centuries spent looking directly up at the sun, the green masonry of her face has started to discolor, but still she smiles. Her fingers are spread like she's ready to grab the golden orb, if it would only lower within reach. While Naboo religion dictates that our souls originate and return to the great turbine in the center of the planet, this blithe form dares divinity by beckoning towards the celestials above. Generations of Naberrie rest at Edum Talla, but there is plenty of room for more. I wondered if Anakin would have any objection to side-by-side plots in such a place.

Unable to resist it, I reached out to softly stroke the region of skin where his jaw hinge met his cheek, counting on years before any conversation like that need be had. Besides, it was impossible to look at Anakin and not wish for anything less than immortality. At least for him.

"I like that move you pulled."

My touch had woken him, yet he didn't seem to mind. He swallowed as he smiled and kept his lids closed. Excited simply by the sound of his hoarse voice, I snuggled into his side, commandeering space on his pillow for my head. The tips of our noses said hello.

Assuming his remark was a compliment for our recent exploits, I raised an eyebrow, eager to hear it. "Which move might that be?"

"Hmm," he licked his dry lips. I helped him moisten them by administering a wife's wake up. "Mm-mmm," he hummed when I pulled back. His arms stretched straight, and his chest lifted a bit off the bed. He was more awake now, but blue eyes revealed themselves only briefly. "Hopping on the back of that creature on Geonosis. Turning our execution wagon into your own personal gunship." He frowned and puckered his lips, preciously looking annoyed. "But I thought I told you to stay by my side."

My voice came out as a whisper. "I know you would follow me."

His left hand unburied itself from the pillow. It searched around for my right one, patting its way down my back and arm in the hit-or-miss process. Finding it under my chin, he grabbed hold with tender strength. Eyes opened and stayed open. Anakin held me in his gaze. "I would follow you across the galaxy."

Sheets rustled as legs moved.

A black glove floated from the nightstand back to the bed.

In less than a minute, a very awake Anakin was on top of me. His lips burrowed into my neck, his tongue marking its territory.

"No, no," I pressed, "I want to go back to how you've known how to swim all this time."

He pulled away and dropped his head, which resulted in his forehead smacking into the top of my left breast. Lifting his chin and opening his eyes, his transformed face suggested he seemed to have found himself in an opportune position. He smirked mischievously and placed a kiss right where his chin had just been. His eyes rose up to meet mine even as he continued kissing lower. And lower.

"Are you sure about that?"

With a great deal of internal struggle between what I and my body wanted, I pushed his forehead away with the palm of my hand. "Yes."

He followed the flow of my light shove and theatrically collapsed against his pillow beside me. Face-up, eyes shut, he sighed as if the weight of the universe were upon him. "Alright."

I giggled. He was cute when he played overly dramatic. At the sound, he cracked open an eye and grinned back at me. He rolled to sit up on his side, elbow bent, the cheek of his handsome face resting on his palm. "It was just supposed to be a dumb joke in the moment." This was unsurprising. "But then you took me so seriously—" he talked over my quick outcry that I'd trusted him, "—and then it became a big mistake. You became so dedicated to teaching me. Which was as adorable as it was terrifying. The more your mood soured, the less it seemed like a good idea to tell you I'm a tremendously agile swimmer."

"Tremendously agile?" I repeated, entertained.

"Mm-hmm," he nodded proudly. "Obi-Wan was willing to throw me in the pool himself rather than let me get out of those lessons, younglings or not. As you can imagine, I excelled very quickly." I rolled my eyes, and he laughed along at his own bravado. Then he quieted. "I was going to tell you, Padmé, but then… in the water…"

{STOP saying you're sorry, Cordé!}

My venting storm. He'd been so patient as he listened.

I felt abrupt fear at the memory that I almost chose to ask him to give me space at the villa. Needing to touch him, I raised my fingers and caressed the side of his face.

Curiosity rose. Anakin was a prankster, but it wasn't in his nature to be duplicitous. "What about everything you said about being afraid of the water?"

He offered back a somber smile. "All true."

And this is how one loves a fear that lives inside another— when it gives merit to their bravery.

In the grand scheme of things, Anakin faking his inability to swim was harmless. I found it amusing too, in hindsight. And yet, the seriousness of a specific situation made me remember the feelings of genuine fear I'd felt for him, and I shook my head in confusion. "But what about when we were on the island and the storm was coming in? You looked so nervous, as if you were scared to cross the water?"

"My love, I was very nervous. About you." When I balked at him, he explained, "I could've crossed to the other side and gotten back before you'd even made it halfway." I raised an eyebrow, unimpressed with this assumption. "Of course, I never would have left your side, but I didn't want to risk anything happening to you."

I'd been underestimated due to my size since puberty. Sometimes, it was an advantage. Most times, it was annoying. I was a secure woman, but my height and how easy it was for most other beings to stand over me was an insecurity that flared up from time to time. I wouldn't have it existing between me and my husband.

"I'm stronger than I look."

"I know," he replied, and I believed him. "But our swim was before Geonosis. I still remembered seeing you in dresses and hairstyles bigger than your body." Anakin made an example gesture with his hand, bringing it out wide to the side of my head in an exaggeration of a mammoth headpiece. "Surrounded by those whose job it was to protect you." I watched him slowly tug the glove off. "I didn't see you in action until we were in the arena. And now, I must admit…" The hands dropped, his right one landing on top of my hip, "you can more than hold your own. The way you were out of the cuffs first; your climb to the top of the pillar; how you handled yourself against the nexu," his voice drifted as he scooted closer. His hand reached beyond my side. Cool, mechanical fingers stroked the still pink marks on my back, as if he needed to remind himself that the wounds were closed. The bacta bandages had worked wonders but, however faint, there would always be scars there.

He wasn't done with his impassioned speech, even as his fingers didn't leave my backside. "It was a side of you I'd never seen before." Anakin's voice quieted. "I'll always protect you, but I'll never underestimate you again." His face broadcast his seriousness.

Too serious for me. I was enjoying the proximity of him, as the pads of his fingers still moved up and down my back, and I didn't want to lose the moment. I tilted my head slightly into the pillow, smiling. "You didn't see me in action during the Battle of Naboo?"

My playful tone caught on. "Well, in my defense, it was hard to see your roundhouse kicks from space."

I laughed, now remembering he had stowed away on the Nubian jet before the most high-stake antics of the retaking of the palace began.

I danced my fingers across his neck. He quivered slightly, and I relished the intimate prowess I had over him. "Did you know I led a large group of security forces who repelled the outside of the palace?"

The look of surprise on his face told me he hadn't. "You did?"

"Oh, yes. While you were taking a joyride in orbit, I climbed out on a thin ledge with a three thousand meter drop to the water and used a cable gun to lift myself up three levels to the floor of the throne room. And then I blasted the glass to get everyone inside."

"Three thousand meters?"

"Well, I've never counted them all myself."

"My, my, Senator Amidala… What kind of warrior woman have I married?" His gaze was nothing short of adoration mixed with clear arousal. My story had seduced him. He switched from his side to being on his back, all while gripping my waist and taking me with him. I ended up on my stomach with most of my upper half atop his torso.

I slung my arms across him luxuriously, propping my chin on his chest with an elite smile. "That's Senator Skywalker to you." A delicious thrill went through my body at saying my new, true professional name out loud. I wanted to scream it from the rooftops of the highest buildings on Coruscant for all the galaxy to hear. But, right now, witnessing my husband's pride in sharing his name was more than enough.

His eyes flew across my face, his cheeks flushed with joy. He glowed with happiness. In fact, considering the horrors of the war that were to come— the emotional and physical scars it would leave— this might've been the happiest I ever saw my dear Ani, apart from the day I told him he was to be a father.

With that one exception, it profoundly pains me that our bliss unknowingly peaked so early, the both of us always believing our greatest joys were only temporarily on pause while the war raged. After. It was always after.

After the Separatists were defeated. After the Hero With No Fear and the relentless Senator of Naboo were not crucial to the fate of the galaxy.

We traded our sweetest dreams for the salvation of strangers. Most nights it didn't keep me awake thinking about it. Most.

But not here. Not yet. This morning, there was only bliss.

"Say it."

I pulled myself up on my elbows, pinning them on either side of his torso, and I looked down into his gaze. The syllables rolled off my tongue with exaltation. I adored my new title more than any I'd held before. "Padmé Skywalker."

He swallowed. His hands came up to push the hair behind my ears, but his palms remained to cradle my head. Vulnerability and unrestrained pleasure swam in his eyes. "Again."

"Padmé." I stretched slightly forward to kiss his left cheek. "Amidala." Now up. A soft kiss to his temple. "Naberrie." A wonderfully lethargic kiss to his right cheek. I'd never found so much enjoyment in saying my name before, nor received such a reaction from a listener.

I was an educated woman who was raised on words. They brought clarity and account to the indefinable. I loved them, in a way an archaeologist loves their chisel and brush. They were my tools in debate; in assurance; in compromise. But to Anakin, they were oftentimes obstructions to the speeches he could deliver with a simple twitch of his cheek. What was a soliloquy to the loud simmering in his eyes? His expressions left my wordy toolboxes useless. He undid me with his stare today as much as he had when he stepped off the elevator.

But these words.

These words held power and consequence.

I moved to position my lips just above his, staring into the eyes of the man I had given myself to in name, in body, and in soul. I drank him in, committing every curve and line to memory. "Skywalker." Finished, I leaned in, slowly. Purposeful.

My lips gradually moved against his with igniting pressure, planting a redundant seal on my fate on top of the many seals underneath it. After a few seconds, I broke away suddenly and looked up to see how he'd react. I felt a stirring once more as I watched the building passion swirl in his eyes; felt the tension in his body grow under my hands. Both our breaths quickened.

Beings live and die for centuries waiting for their lover to look at them like this.

He rushed forward and took back my lips in a fiery reclamation, then he flipped me on to my back. And for the rest of the hour, words, prayers, promises— nothing need be said. We innately knew.