Welcome, readers, to a new chapter in this emotional and secret journey between Padmé and Anakin.
In this episode, the beating of a heart confronts the mind that tries to deny them. With Padmé in a moment of internal struggle, where reason seeks to impose itself on desire, and the purest and truest connection resists being extinguished.
Is it possible to replace the irreplaceable?
I would love to read your thoughts, theories, and emotions! Your feedback is the engine that drives this story, and you always help me improve and continue to build this universe with you.
Don't be shy, tell me what you liked, what surprised you, or even what you think will happen next.
Anakin and Padme Skywalker: Thank you for your opinion! I love the ideas you've proposed, although I want to make it clear that the canon is not going to be altered. Anakin is not leaving the Jedi Order, but his fate as Darth Vader remains the same. However, I will explore other ways in which The Forge of Valor can influence your path and your development. I'm excited to keep sharing this story!
Spectacular Webhead 11: The Forge of Valor routine is a process that tests both a Jedi's inner strength and their loyalty, sacrifice, and resolve in the face of challenges. In Anakin's case, it would be a journey of self-discovery, where he faces his own fears and doubts while connecting more deeply with the Force.
Thank you for being here and for being part of this adventure. Your words are more valuable than you can imagine!
Go ahead, and may the Force guide us on this journey!
CHAPTER 12: THE NAME THAT ALWAYS COMES BACK
Padmé was in a very familiar and safe place: a balcony in Theed, overlooking a lake under a starry sky. The wind caresses her skin, and the breeze carries with it the scent of nocturnal flowers. She is dressed in an elegant, yet simple white dress that molds perfectly to her figure.
Suddenly, she feels a presence behind her. Before he turns around, he already knows who he is. Anakin appears, his gaze fixed on her, charged with intensity. He is the same as the more mature version of the Padawan he had dreamed of a few days ago: taller, with broad shoulders and defined muscles that now sculpt his figure with an imposing presence. His face, while retaining the same sweetness of yesteryear, is marked by a maturity that irresistibly accentuates his attractiveness.
But what impacts her the most, what takes her breath away, are her eyes. Those unmistakable blue eyes that had always shone with devotion and admiration for her, from the first day they met. Now, that intensity is still present, but there is something else. His gaze, deep and ardent, reflects a desire so palpable that it seems to burn his skin. It's as if he can see through the delicate layers of cloth that cover his body, as if he desires beyond what words could express.
This feeling disarms her. She feels exposed under that gaze, as if he could see not only her body, but every corner of her soul. But instead of intimidating her, she is overcome by immense happiness, a surge of warmth and fulfillment that she has never experienced before. For the first time in her life, she feels completely desired by a man, in body and spirit, in such a deep and passionate way that it makes her feel alive like never before.
It's a perfect combination of vulnerability and euphoria, a delicate balance between feeling discovered and at the same time adored. And in that instant, everything else vanishes: the doubts, the expectations, the fears. There are only the two of them, trapped in that gaze that says it all without the need for words.
Anakin wears his Jedi robe, but he feels different: not as the serious, controlled Padawan she feared so much, but as a man who doesn't mind defying the rules.
"Padmé..."
He whispers his name as if it were a secret that he fears will break.
"You have no idea how long I've dreamed of this moment, of the instant when I would have you in front of me again. Beyond any code, beyond the teachings of the Jedi, you are and always will be my greatest longing, my deepest reason for moving forward."
"But it's forbidden for a Jedi to feel anything like that... Don't you mind? Aren't you afraid to break with everything you were taught?"
"I'm more afraid of losing you than of defying any norm. I am more afraid of living in a lie to hide what I feel for you. Padmé, I care more about being honest with yourself and myself. I care more about this moment, with you, than anything else. Because you are the sweet angel who came into my life five years ago and never left my heart."
"Don't tell me that in all this time... you really didn't stop thinking about me?"
"Not a single day. Every moment, every sigh, your image was with me. Like a star that never stops shining in the dark, you were always there."
"And what were you thinking, Ani? What were you dreaming of at that moment?"
"I thought about the day when I could hold your hands with love. The moment I could kiss your fingers, one by one, with all the devotion I feel for you. At the moment when I would finally dare to look you in the eye and confess how much I love you. And on the day when I could hold you in my arms, feel you so close that there is nothing but you, your warmth, and this love that consumes me."
She smiles, and when he steps forward, their hands meet. Their fingers intertwine as if they had always belonged together. There is a moment of silence, broken only by the song of the nocturnal creatures.
Anakin looks her in the eye, and Padmé feels her heart beating faster.
"I always thought I wouldn't have the right to this... to you. But here you are, and I can't let you go."
The boy speaks to her in a low, emotionally charged voice, his words imbued with an intensity that seems to ignite the air between them. His eyes, two blue abysses full of desire, do not leave hers, as if to engrave every facet of her gaze in the depths of her soul.
In those eyes there is not only desire; There is an intoxicating mixture of adoration, longing, and a love so pure that it hurts. It's the kind of gaze that can't be hidden, that screams what words can barely express, and that makes the whole world fade into the background.
She feels her heart pounding, caught up in that intensity that she hasn't stopped perceiving since the moment this encounter began. Her breath rages, aware that it is not only the intensity of his eyes that consumes her, but the weight of everything he holds in them: dreams, promises, and an unwavering love that seems to defy even the Force itself.
Before she can answer, the Padawan pulls her towards him, with a delicacy that contrasts with the strength in his grip. Their lips meet in a deep and passionate kiss. It is not just desire; There is love, longing, and an unspoken promise to be together no matter the consequences.
Padmé feels that time stands still. The weight of his duties disappears, replaced by the feeling of belonging only to that moment, to him. His hands travel to Anakin's face, caressing him as if he wanted to memorize every line, every detail.
The padawan's lips, warm and soft, begin to slowly descend the curve of his neck, leaving a trail of burning tingling that awakens every fiber of his being. Each kiss seems like a silent confession, a testimony to the pent-up desire that has finally found its escape. Padmé closes her eyes, surrendering to the intensity of the moment, feeling her breathing quicken with every touch.
It's a wonderful feeling, as intoxicating as it is dangerous, but despite knowing that what they're doing challenges everything they both stand for, she doesn't want it to stop. The codes, the laws, the rules that govern their worlds vanish in that instant, consumed by the powerful connection they share.
Anakin's scent, mixed with the warmth of his proximity, envelops her like a protective blanket, and his hands, firm but tender, find their way to her waist, holding her as if she fears she might disappear. Padmé feels caught between desire and guilt, but more than that, she feels something she has never experienced before: a pure and overwhelming happiness, as if everything in her life had been destined to carry her to this moment.
"Please let this instant last forever."
He thinks as his body responds to Anakin's touch, his heart beating in unison with the padawan's.
She knows that the weight of the consequences is waiting, that this love, though real and deep, is doomed to remain in the shadows. However, at this point, none of that matters. All she feels is her devotion, the intensity of her lips exploring her skin, and a connection so potent that it could rival the Force itself.
"I will never leave you. You are my everything, Padmé."
Anakin whispers softly against her warm skin, and the young queen feels a delicious tingle run through her body like a lit spark. His voice, deep and full of contained emotion, is an echo of everything he never dared to say out loud, but which was always there, among them, floating in the shared silences.
"This was what I secretly longed for so long."
Padmé thinks, as a torrent of emotions overflows inside her. She knows it's wrong, she knows it's forbidden, that he's still a Padawan, a young man still shaped by strict Jedi codes, and that her place as queen should be far from these earthly emotions. But at that moment, all of that dissolves into nothingness. The only thing that matters is that he is there, with her, loving her, desiring her, with an intensity she has never experienced before.
Anakin's lips are a map of fire that explores every corner of his neck with devotion and desire. This kiss is not the first one she has received in her life, but it is unique. It is a kiss that awakens every fiber of her being, that makes her feel as if she has never been touched before, as if her lips and her skin have been exclusively waiting for this moment, this moment shared with him.
No other man had ever made her feel like that, so alive, so completely desired. Anakin, with his youth and overflowing passion, enveloped her in a whirlwind of emotions that threatened to bring her down. She felt so light, so overwhelmed, that her legs could hardly support her, and with a nervous smile, she dropped down on the soft grass. The flowers around her, bright and scented, became a perfect frame for the moment, as Anakin followed, settling beside her as if they were made to fit together.
The boy's lips begin to descend even more, getting dangerously close to the edge of his cleavage. Every touch, every whisper of his breath against her skin, was a reminder of how much he wanted her.
His hands, strong but tender, ran down her belly, to slowly rise and grab her breasts off guard, squeezing them lightly and filling her with pleasure, it seemed as if his hands had been specifically designed to hold her, as if they were made to fit perfectly with the curves of her body. Each caress was like a poem without words, transmitting everything he felt for her.
Padmé, lost in the moment, kept letting out uncontrollable moans of pleasure, as she slides her hands down Anakin's back, enjoying the warmth and strength that radiated from her young body. Her fingers meet the nape of her neck and, like magnets, they stop there, caressing her short spiky hair with an almost reverential delicacy. It was as if their hands couldn't resist touching it, clinging to it, anchoring themselves in that deep connection they shared.
For the first time in a long time, Padmé felt complete. Ecstatic, happy, loved on a level that transcended any logic or reason. It was a pure, visceral love, one that filled her completely, and which, though forbidden, seemed destined by the Force itself. While they were there, surrounded by the scent of flowers and the warmth of the sun, she allowed herself to close her eyes and let herself be carried away by the moment, engraving it in her soul as an eternal memory.
Suddenly, there is a subtle but inevitable change, an interruption that is felt in both body and soul. Padmé, still immersed in the ecstasy of the moment, feels the warmth of Anakin's hands on her body gradually transform into emptiness. His touch, which just moments ago had been so tangible, begins to fade as if it were smoke escaping through his fingers.
The landscape around him, that field of fragrant flowers and vibrant colors, slowly loses its sharpness. The edges of his vision become blurred, as if a mist were covering everything. Padmé tries to hold on to Anakin's image, to the feeling of his lips and his breath on her skin, but even he begins to fade, like a figure caught in the current of a river that is receding further and further away.
His heart pounds, as he desperately tries to stay asleep.
"No, not yet... I don't want to leave..."
She thinks, but her will seems useless against the force that drags her back to reality. Anakin's words, those confessions charged with love and devotion, become distant, almost inaudible echoes. Even his blue gaze, full of desire and tenderness, begins to dissipate like a reflection in agitated water.
The first hint of awakening is a light piercing through his closed eyelids, a clarity that does not belong to the dream world. It's an uncomfortable reminder that he must return, that what he has just experienced is nothing more than a fantasy. Your body begins to feel heavier, more aware of reality. The flowers disappear, replaced by the cold, rough texture of the sheets on their skin.
A dull ache in his head begins to make its way into his consciousness. Padmé lets out a faint moan of discomfort as her eyes flicker, adjusting to the daylight. The dream is completely gone, like a mirage that crumbles when you try to touch it.
However, as she stretches out in her bed, her heart continues to beat fast. The intensity of the dream, the emotions that enveloped her, are still present in her body, like a residual heat that does not dissipate completely.
"How could something so unreal feel so real?"
He wonders as his fingers unconsciously brush his neck, where he still seems to feel the trace of Anakin's lips.
The weight of reality falls on her suddenly, and an intense blush tinges her cheeks as she remembers the details of what she dreamed. A feeling of shame mixed with unexpected nostalgia invades her. Even though the dream is over, the emotions it awakened in her do not disappear. And as he slowly sits up, a question hangs over his mind.
"What does this really mean?"
Slowly, he opened his eyes, feeling how the stabbing pain behind his temples reminded him of every sip of cherry liqueur from the night before. He put a hand to his forehead and sighed deeply, trying to sort out his confused thoughts.
It didn't take long for him to remember the night before: the dinner, the polite conversations, and the rehearsed laughter. But, above all, she remembered the feeling that had accompanied her throughout the evening. That tightness in the chest, that discomfort that came not exactly from Vexar's presence, but from everything he represented. An imposed future, a path he could not oppose without defying the expectations of his position.
It was because of that restlessness, that knot in his stomach that he couldn't untie, that, without realizing it, he had drunk more cherry liqueur than he used to. It was not her habit to overdo it, she had always been measured, but last night... Last night she was looking for something that would soften the sharp edges of her anxiety. Each sip had seemed to him a momentary way to release the pressure, a fleeting escape.
"What a shame! If anyone finds out that a queen like me woke up in this state..."
The weight of her position fell on her shoulders, and with it, the certainty that she could not afford to be seen like this. His people depended on his impeccable image, on his strength.
He took a deep breath and slowly straightened up on the bed. He had to pull himself together. To disguise his discomfort as a simple temporary headache, something that did not deserve major concern.
"No... no one has to know"
She muttered to herself, in a quiet but firm voice.
"I will say that I feel unwell... that I need to rest a little more before resuming my duties"
He said to himself with determination, as if by verbalizing it he could order his broken world.
For now, no one should see her in that state. No one was to notice how vulnerable he really was.
He got up with difficulty and walked to the dressing table. His reflection in the mirror stared back at him with tired, slightly red eyes. He wet his face with cold water, trying to erase any evidence of his condition.
Determined, she went to the door of her room and opened it wide enough to talk to one of her ladies-in-waiting who was waiting outside.
"I don't feel quite right this morning. It's a bit slight, but I think I'll rest a little more. Please inform me that I will be late for my duties. I don't need assistance for now, just a little peace of mind."
"As I commanded, Your Majesty"
Dormé replied with a bow before retiring.
Padmé closed the door softly and lay back on her bed. She closed her eyes tightly, trying to erase the uncomfortable thoughts that assailed her.
The queen put a hand to her temple, trying to soothe the stabbing pain that still lingered. His mind was a whirlwind of fuzzy memories, intertwined words, and fragments of the conversation he'd had with Vexar. He had talked too much, he knew it. The cherry liqueur had dismantled his barriers, softened his voice, and, above all, loosened his tongue.
"How much did I talk to Vexar last night? How much did I really tell him? My fears, my longings... Why was I so open with him?"
Her cheeks burned with shame as she recalled the topics she had broached, her most private longings about... Anakin. Everything revolved around him, always around him. Why did you have to mention it? Why did he let his heart speak without filters?
The memory of his words came back to her in patches, accompanied by a growing sense of shame. He straightened up in bed, feeling slightly dizzy.
"Has he noticed?"
He whispered into the air, his voice barely audible.
"Has he understood the depth of my words?"
Vexar was a shrewd man; He was not naïve. Surely he noticed that each confession came from a very real, very sincere place, from the depths of his soul. But what did he think when he heard it? Could he have understood that every word was tinged with love, with an affection that transcended duty and protocol?
She brought her knees to her chest, hugging herself. He had been so vulnerable, so transparent. Everything he had kept for years, hidden behind diplomatic smiles and measured words, had come to the surface with alarming ease.
"Will you think I was weak? That I am naïve? Or have you seen... Must he have felt that it was the purest truth I have spoken in a long time?"
Fear invaded her. What if Vexar talked about this with someone else? What if his words reached the wrong ears?
But then, a calmer thought calmed her down: No, he wouldn't do that. Vexar could be many things, but he was not a cruel man. If there was one thing he had noticed in his eyes that night, it was compassion... perhaps even understanding.
Even so, the uncertainty was still there, stuck like a thorn in his chest. For as much as Vexar could understand her, no one else would. No one would understand what that silent bond meant to her, that light that Anakin represented in her life.
"I hope ... I hope he understood that every word was true."
He murmured, his eyes fixed on an invisible spot in his room.
Her lips trembled slightly, and a tear threatened to fall. Padmé closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and let the silence envelop her. Although her heart was still pounding as she remembered what had happened, a part of her felt... Light. As if, for an instant, he had freed himself from a weight he had been carrying for years.
"Vexar... why do I feel so vulnerable with him? Why did I allow him to look at me like this?"
But deep down, he knew that it wasn't Vexar who was really occupying his thoughts. The face that appeared in his mind, with intense eyes full of fire, was very different.
He covered his face with his hands, letting out a frustrated sigh.
"I must compose myself. I can't afford this kind of mistake again..."
She muttered, more to convince herself than for real certainty.
And though she tried to convince herself that she could put it behind her, the echo of her own words from the night before continued to haunt her.
Padmé closed her eyes tightly, trying to drown out the knot of anxiety that formed in her chest. The memories of the night before assailed her in waves, each one more intense than the last. He had talked too much, there was no doubt about that, but how far had he come? How far had she allowed the liquor and her nerves to carry her?
His hand instinctively descended to his chest, where the small pendant that Anakin had given him so many years ago rested. Which seemed to burn against his skin, as if whispering secrets that only the two of them shared. At that moment, she felt him move, running through her breasts shamelessly, as if he were reminding her of everything she was trying to bury deep within her being, it was a reflection of the emotions that burned in her chest every time she thought of him, a silent whisper that accompanied each of her deepest and most dangerous reflections.
"By the gods..."
He muttered with a tremor on his lips, his voice barely a sigh. As the pendant gently slid down her skin again, a touch that could not be considered imperceptible, for whenever it explored her skin it made Padmé shudder.
As if that beloved piece was trying to get her attention, as if it invited her to remember where it came from, who it came from... and what it really represented. Every little movement against her skin was a caress, an echo of the hands she wanted touched, Anakin's hands.
"Please, that I didn't say more... that I haven't told what I dream every time the pendant touches my skin"
When her thoughts delved into her darkest secrets, in the fear of having revealed not only her fears, but also her most passionate desires, the pendant seemed to land right in her favorite place, transmitting that echo of love, reminding her that those thoughts had always been there, had always been hers.
For if Vexar had noticed the trembling in his voice as he spoke of Anakin, if he had caught the sparkle in his eyes as he spoke his name, had he also noticed what came next? That part of her soul that burned like an indomitable fire, the silent, almost desperate need to feel Anakin's hands running over her skin, for her lips to seek hers with the same fervor that dwelt in her dreams?
The thought shook her. What if she had revealed that part of herself? That part that he always kept hidden, even from his own thoughts, because it was too intense, too dangerous.
"No... I couldn't have made it this far."
She said to herself, though her voice lacked conviction.
The alcohol had weakened his defenses, loosened his tongue, and, worse, opened wide the door to his deepest desires. Desires that should never see the light of day, that should never be heard by other people's ears.
"¡Gods... no!"
She exclaimed, covering her face with both hands, drowning in shame and fear of what she might have revealed.
The idea was unbearable. Because if someone came to know how much they really wanted Anakin, how much they longed for his closeness, his caresses, his love... Everything he had built could collapse in an instant.
"Please... that it has not been like that"
He whispered in despair, his voice barely audible in the stillness of the room.
The young queen lay in her bed, her gaze fixed on the ceiling, while the echo of her words of the previous night returned to her with painful clarity. Every sentence, every whisper uttered under the influence of liquor, had come straight from his heart.
"I talked too much... I told him things I should never have confessed. But... everything was true, every word."
He closed his eyes tightly, feeling a mixture of shame and a deep longing squeeze in his chest. He had told Vexar about him, about Anakin. He had mentioned how special he was, how much he meant to her, how every time he thought of her eyes, of his smile, his heart beat harder and the world seemed to stop.
"Why did I have to tell him that? Why precisely him?"
Vexar was a good man, there was no doubt about that. He was kind, attentive and clearly interested in her. But it wasn't Anakin. It could never be.
She remembered how Vexar had listened intently, how she had offered words of comfort when her own fears had crept into her confessions. She had told him about her doubts, her deepest fears: the fear that Anakin would forget her, the fear that he would never see her as she saw him. And, above all, the paralyzing terror that one day the Force would decide to separate them forever.
His heart ached with every thought. Padmé had never been so honest with anyone, not even with herself. What he had confessed the night before wasn't just alcohol-fueled words; They were truths buried deep in his soul, truths he had tried to ignore for years.
But as much as he wanted to convince himself that he had not crossed that line, the doubt was still there, persistent and cruel. What if he had? What if Vexar had listened not only to his fears and longings, but also to that hidden passion he had been trying to lock up for so long?
He got up slowly and walked to the window of his room. Theed's views were as majestic as ever, but today they brought him no comfort.
"Anakin..."
He whispered his name in a broken tone, almost as if it were a secret that the wind was not to blow away.
She saw it in her mind so clearly: her disheveled golden hair, those blue eyes full of determination, and that smile that seemed to shine even in the darkest moments. Did he know how much he meant to her? Had he ever felt the same way when he thought of her?
"Does he feel the same way? Does he think of me as I think of him? Or am I just a childhood memory to him, a kind queen who once crossed his path?"
The weight of his own feelings was almost overwhelming. On the one hand, his position as a leader, as a public figure, demanded prudence and sacrifice. On the other hand, his heart was desperately crying out for something that seemed unattainable.
"If he were here..."
He said quietly, resting his forehead against the cold windowpane.
"If I could see it, even if it was just for a moment..."
But I knew it couldn't be. Anakin was far away, training, facing his own trials. And she, here, trapped in a role that, although honorable, kept her a prisoner of her own feelings.
Padmé closed her eyes and took a deep breath. He had to pull himself together, he had to stop thinking about what could never be.
She reminded herself that Vexar was everything expected of an ideal companion: respectful, kind, and unfettered like Anakin's. Everyone in the court of Naboo considered him an excellent candidate to be by their side.
But a part in the depths of his heart, the most intimate and vulnerable, was still clinging to the memory of the Padawan and refused to let him go.
"It's the right thing to do."
She muttered to herself, closing her eyes and tilting her head back slightly.
"Vexar is the right thing to do."
That was the name that must occupy his mind now. The young ambassador had proven himself to be a worthy man, someone who could offer him a stable and right future, without the ethical dilemmas and prohibitions that Anakin brought with him. She took a deep breath and let her mind take her to one of those dreams that tormented her so much and at the same time filled her with a happiness that she was afraid to admit.
The face as I imagined Anakin should look immediately. That intensity in her eyes, the blue glow that always seemed to seek her approval, her mischievous smile that disarmed any resistance. But this time, with a conscious effort, he tried to change it. He saw it differently: taller, with darker hair, less angular features. He tried to mold it into Vexar's image.
He concentrated on imagining Vexar: his graceful bearing, his impeccable manners, his serene gaze that always radiated understanding.
At first, it worked. He saw Vexar's politeness, the softness, the way he spoke without demanding anything of her, with that kind smile he knew so well. It was a safe haven, an uncomplicated choice, a future free of secrets and guilt.
But something was wrong.
The scenario he imagined, although perfect, lacked the spark he had always felt in dreams with Anakin. Vexar's smile, though genuine, did not stir in her heart that whirlwind of emotions that made her feel alive.
The warmth that always accompanied those dreams was missing. The imagined touch did not awaken the familiar tingle, nor did his smile cause that sweet knot in his chest. More than a dream, it seemed like a lifeless portrait, a perfectly executed painting but devoid of soul. His heart began to race, uneasy about that lack of connection.
Unintentionally, Anakin's image returned, like a wave breaking against a barrier that was too fragile, derailing the effort he had put into erasing it. This time it wasn't just there: it was more present, more vivid, more real. The intensity in his blue eyes that always seemed to read his soul. But now, his gaze looked hurt, as if he knew what she had tried to do.
"Why are you trying to replace me? Why are you doing this to us?"
He seemed to ask his expression.
They weren't words, but Padmé could feel the reproach in the air, the weight of the connection they shared.
Then the queen snapped her eyes, her breath ragged. He tried to push that image aside, to return to Vexar, but it was useless. All I saw now was Anakin, and with that image came the memory of his voice, of the sweet, passionate words he had spoken to her in his dreams.
He realized something disconcerting. For the brief moment when she had struggled to imagine that it was Vexar caressing her and not Anakin, the pendant had remained unusually still. It was as if that little object, always restless against his skin, had ceased to exist altogether, almost as if it had left his neck. He hadn't even felt it stuck to his skin, cold and absent, oblivious to any emotion.
But now, as his thoughts inevitably returned to Anakin, something changed. As soon as he evoked his face in his mind, the pendant seemed to awaken, as if reacting to his deepest emotions. He resumed his subtle, debauched movement, gliding across his skin with that intensity he knew all too well.
As if Anakin himself were present, and through that object he transmitted every beat of his heart that seemed to synchronize with his.
A shiver ran down his spine, not from the cold, but from something deeper, something he couldn't ignore. It was a reminder that no matter how hard he tried to replace him, how much he struggled to push his image out of his mind; Anakin was there, in every corner of his thoughts, in his heartbeat, and somehow inexplicably, even in that pendant that wandered sweetly across his skin.
As much as he wanted to deny it, this was more than just an object. It was a symbol, a connection that no other man could replicate, not even Vexar with all his kindness and promises of stability. Anakin was not just a memory; It was a part of her, one she couldn't silence.
And as the pendant continued to glide almost insolently freely over her skin, without asking permission, as if it had right over every corner of her body, Padmé couldn't help but shudder. It was as if every curve, every inch of her skin, had been shaped specifically to receive that intimate touch, to allow that little object to find its exact place, its perfect refuge. She felt that her skin responded in an almost involuntary way, as if she recognized that deeper connection, that which transcended the physical.
His heart was beating faster, feeling the pendant pulsing against his skin as if sharing his excitement. For a moment, Padmé closed her eyes and surrendered to the inevitable. In her mind, the image of Anakin took over everything again, more intense, more alive, and with it, the pendant seemed to beat in unison, as if she knew that this forbidden love was the only thing that really mattered.
After all, it wasn't the pendant that gave her that overwhelming feeling, that mixture of warmth and desire that enveloped her with every movement. No, the pendant was nothing more than a medium, a simple channel. The real source of that intensity was the young man who had carved it with his own hands.
As so many other times, Padmé stopped feeling the weight of the pendant and instead, began to feel Anakin's hands, sure and determined, gliding with the same devotion that he had put into creating that small object. It was impossible to separate the pendant from its creator, impossible not to imagine Anakin pouring every emotion into every edge, into every carving, into every detail that now ran through his skin with such obvious purpose.
This was not simply an accessory. It was an extension of him, of what he felt, of what he had never dared to say in words but that he had left carved in that small gift. And as she felt it move as if it were taking on a life of its own, as if she had a mission to accomplish, Padmé understood something that filled her with a mixture of happiness and fear: the pendant was a constant reminder that, even though they were apart, Anakin was always there, in her skin, in her heart, claiming her in a way that no one else could.
"Anakin..."
It was as if by evoking his name, the pendant came even more alive, his touch became more intentional, as if he himself were there, caressing her through that fragment of wood he carried with him. Every touch whispered secrets that she did not want to admit, reminded her of the firm and creative hands that had worked to give shape to that piece, the intense and passionate gaze that seemed to see everything, even to the depths of her soul.
And although she tried to deny those feelings to herself, deep down she knew that no matter how hard she tried to ignore it, there was no way to escape from that truth and she had to accept what she knew in her heart.
"I can't forget it... I will never be able to replace him."
With that certainty, he let out a deep sigh, letting the tension slowly fade from his body as he lay back on the bed. She closed her eyes in the hope that the rest would bring back some clarity, though deep down she knew that there was nothing that could completely dispel the feelings that enveloped her.
He settled between the sheets, feeling the pendant wander across his skin again, a silent reminder of the connection he tried so hard to deny. This time, when she closed her eyes, she did so with a faint smile, resigned to accepting what her heart had already decided. She knew perfectly well who would accompany her in her dreams, and also who could never occupy that place.
Because Vexar could be a great man, but he would never be Anakin. And although the forbidden terrified her, what she felt for him was too strong to be silenced.
The pendant brushed her skin cheekily again, as if mocking her, as if reminding her that no matter how hard she tried to suppress it, that part of her soul would always be there. Hurrah. Throbbing. And always, always, belonging to Anakin.
That young Padawan who had spoken her name with that mixture of adoration and devotion, who with her blue eyes had always sought his, as if she were his guiding star in a chaotic universe.
And as always when she gave herself up to sleep, she could not help the feeling that she was not alone, as if Anakin's presence was there, invisible, but palpable.
"Although I am ashamed to have said all that to Vexar in that state, I do not regret it. I don't regret feeling what I feel. Every word was true... each of them. And Anakin... even if I never tell you... even if you never have to know... You will always be the only one my heart longs for."
Again she allowed herself to think about what really tormented her, the desperate need to feel Anakin's hands running over her skin, for his lips to join hers with that fervor that only existed in her dreams, while the pendant continued to caress her, sliding down her skin shamelessly.
Every time she tried to push those thoughts away, the pendant seemed to respond, as if challenging her, as if telling her that she couldn't ignore what she felt, what she really was.
It was such a simple gesture, so silent... but that screamed loudly inside. The pendant didn't ask permission to move, to remind her of what it meant, to light those embers she tried to smother day after day. Like a little sentinel, watching over your thoughts, your secrets and, above all, your heart.
As if that little object had been there all along, listening to his words, feeling his doubts and his desires. A physical symbol of something that was far greater than herself: her bond with Anakin, so strong that neither distance, nor time, nor the gods of Naboo could break.
Padmé couldn't ignore him, she couldn't escape him. Because every time the pendant brushed against her skin, every time she felt it move, Anakin was there with her. Even if it was only in his thoughts, even if it was only a reflection of a love that was never meant to be, his heart was still and would continue to beat for that young Jedi who was light years away.
This concludes this chapter, I hope you have enjoyed every moment of this new installment and that you have immersed yourself in the dilemmas, emotions and conflicts that surround our protagonists.
Dear readers, I want to share something with you:
I have a lot of ideas in mind, other stories that are waiting to come to life. But I would like to know your opinion: Do you prefer that I intersperse these new stories with the one we are already developing, or do you prefer that I finish this one before starting another?
I've even been working on a fascinating alternate universe, where a monumental change occurs in The Phantom Menace. This twist completely transforms history, leading to the fall of the Republic and the extinction of the Jedi Order during the blockade of Naboo. The lives of the most beloved characters take unexpected turns and their stories intertwine in surprising ways. Would you like to know more about this new path? I'm excited to share it with you!
I look forward to reading your ideas in the comments! Your comments are my compass and I always read them with great enthusiasm!
Thank you for joining me on this journey. See you in the next chapter, and until then, may the Force be with you.