Anakin Skywalker, his heart heavy with a mix of apprehension and longing, retraced his steps through the familiar corridors of the Jedi Temple. He couldn't shake the image of Padmé's tear-streaked face, the raw vulnerability in her eyes as she confided in him about the Senate's accusations, the whispers of treachery that had wounded her so deeply. He hoped the Chancellor would fix it. He rounded a corner, his gaze settling on Obi-Wan and Ahsoka, their maroon and green starfighters gleaming under the soft illumination of the hangar's ambient lighting, a vibrant counterpoint to the sterile gray of the surrounding walls. They were preparing for their departure, their mission to neutralize the Malevolence, the Separatist superweapon that had haunted Anakin's thoughts since the discovery of the derelict Venators. He felt a pang of regret, a flicker of envy, knowing that he wouldn't be joining them, that his own mission, this delicate dance of persuasion and deception, confined him to Coruscant. "Anakin," Obi-Wan called out, his voice a warm baritone that cut through the hushed activity of the hangar, his presence a comforting anchor amidst Anakin's swirling anxieties. He strode towards Anakin, Ahsoka trailing behind him, her montrals twitching with a mix of curiosity and impatience.
"Good luck on your mission, Master," Anakin responded, a genuine respect lacing his words, his gaze meeting Obi-Wan's with a mix of admiration and a shared understanding. He glanced towards Ahsoka, her youthful form radiating an eagerness that belied the grim reality of the task ahead, and added, "Good luck to you too, Snips."
"You're not coming with us, Anakin?" Ahsoka inquired, her voice laced with a mix of surprise and disappointment, her gaze searching his face with a youthful intensity that made him shift uncomfortably. He had become fond of the young Togruta, had witnessed her skills, her courage, her unwavering loyalty. He would have loved to join the mission with her.
"No, the Council doesn't think I'm good enough," Anakin joked, deflecting her question with a playful self-deprecation that masked the turmoil within him.
Obi-Wan's brow furrowed slightly, his gaze sharpening, a hint of suspicion flickering in his eyes. "Don't take this personal the council must have a reason to not take you on this mission. Do you know what your mission is yet, Anakin?" he asked, his voice a low murmur that echoed the unspoken question in his gaze.
"Not yet, Master," Anakin admitted, a shrug of feigned indifference masking his own anxieties. "But I'm sure they'll enlighten me soon enough."
"Good luck on your mission, Anakin," Obi-Wan said, his voice regaining its usual warmth, "and may the Force be with you." He turned and walked towards his starfighter, Ahsoka following close behind, her montrals swaying gracefully, her youthful eagerness a stark reminder of the adventures that awaited them.
As Anakin entered the Council Chamber, its circular layout and panoramic viewport revealing the familiar vista of Coruscant's sprawling cityscape, a tapestry of light and shadow that mirrored the complexities of his own heart. The Jedi Masters, their faces etched with a mixture of serenity and concern, were already assembled, their gazes fixed on him as he approached, their silence a palpable weight that amplified his anxieties. "Masters," Anakin greeted them, bowing his head respectfully.
"Skywalker," Mace Windu began, his voice a steely baritone that resonated with authority, "our mission for you… delicate, it is. We have reason to believe… a Separatist spy operates within our Senate. A certain Senator Clovis."
Anakin nodded, his mind already racing, anticipating the direction of their request. He hadn't encountered Clovis before, but he knew of his type, an ambitious corrupt figure whose dealings often skirted the edges of legality, whose loyalties seemed to shift with the prevailing political winds and money. His type was a dangerous man, Anakin knew, a potential threat to the Republic.
"Senator Amidala," Plo Koon interjected, his usual gentle demeanor replaced by a grim seriousness that made Anakin's heart clench.
"She isn't a spy," Anakin interrupted, protectiveness flaring within him, his voice a sharp retort that echoed his own anxieties. He knew that while Padmé contacted Dooku multiple times before, his beloved wife, the woman whose unwavering commitment to peace and justice burned so brightly, would never betray the Republic while he fought for them.
"We weren't going to say that," Plo Koon responded calmly, his voice a soothing balm to Anakin's outburst. "We have asked her to… gather intelligence on Clovis. Her past relationship with him will be… advantageous."
"Why spy on him?" Anakin asked, his brow furrowing in confusion. "I could interrogate him, Master Plo. My skills will be more direct." He didn't want Padmé anywhere near Clovis, not when the man's suspected ties to the Separatists posed such a risk to her safety. The thought of Padmé working with a corrupt Separatist, sent a shiver down his spine for sure after Dooku's betrayal.
"We don't want to treat him as a criminal yet," Mace Windu explained. "And he will trust the Senator, a colleague and friend, more readily than a Jedi. Her presence will be less conspicuous."
"Why tell me this now?" Anakin pressed, his frustration mounting. Why involve him in this delicate matter, this request that felt like a betrayal of his own heart?
"She refused us, Skywalker," Mace Windu explained, his gaze meeting Anakin's with a mix of understanding and a subtle challenge.
"I really don't think this is a good idea, Masters," Anakin responded, his voice laced with a weariness that echoed his own internal conflict. "There must be someone better suited for this task. Someone less… connected to Senator Amidala." He couldn't, in good conscience, send Padmé into harm's way, not when her heart, her very soul, was so deeply intertwined with his own.
"We picked Senator Amidala precisely because she is best suited for this task," Mace Windu explained, his tone unwavering. "She and Senator Clovis entered the Senate in the same year, served on numerous committees together. They were quite… close."
"I didn't know that," Anakin murmured, a cold dread settling in his stomach. He hadn't known about this connection, this… closeness, between Padmé and Clovis. It was a revelation that sparked a flicker of jealousy, a possessive urge to shield her from the man's influence and threat.
"Personal matters for the Senator, these are," Yoda interjected, his voice a gravelly murmur that echoed Anakin's own unease. "Know them, why would you?"
Anakin, caught off guard by the question, scrambled for a plausible excuse. "I just… didn't expect the Senator to have a… friend in the Banking Clan," he responded, his voice a nervous tremor.
"Trust you Senator Amidala does," Yoda continued, his gaze fixed on Anakin with a knowing intensity. "That is why convince her, you must. For the good of the Republic, this mission… vital, it is." He had to persuade Padmé to decline this mission, this dangerous assignment that threatened to hurt her.
Count Dooku, his elegant robes billowing slightly as he strode through the hushed grandeur of Castle Serenno's library, felt the weight of the holocron pressing against his palm, a tangible symbol of the secrets it held, the power it promised. The library, a sanctuary of knowledge and quiet contemplation, its shelves lined with ancient texts and historical records, offered a welcome respite from the turmoil that gripped the galaxy. He reached his private study, a secluded alcove within the library's vast expanse, its walls adorned with intricate tapestries depicting scenes from Serenno's rich history, its air thick with the scent of aged parchment and forgotten lore. He placed the holocron on a small, ornately carved table, its smooth surface cool against the dark wood, its enigmatic presence a stark contrast to the room's warm, inviting atmosphere. With a deep breath, he activated the device, its intricate locking mechanisms clicking softly as they yielded to his touch, the air around it shimmering with a faint, ethereal glow. A holographic projection, a three-dimensional map of a star system he didn't recognize, materialized above the holocron, its intricate details a testament to the advanced technology of its creators. A pulsing red light, a beacon amidst the swirling nebulae and orbiting planets, marked a specific location within the system, a point of interest that ignited a flicker of anticipation within Dooku. Something of immense importance, he knew, lay hidden within that uncharted system, a secret waiting to be unearthed, a power that could potentially shift the balance of the war, could break Darth Sidious's iron grip on the galaxy. He leaned closer, his gaze scanning the holographic projection, his mind racing, analyzing the system's layout, the arrangement of planets, the gravitational anomalies, seeking any clue that might shed light on its significance.
"EK-72," Dooku called out, his voice a resonant baritone that echoed through the quiet study, summoning his most trusted protocol droid. A moment later, the droid glided silently into the room, its polished silver exterior gleaming under the soft illumination of the study's ambient lighting, its photoreceptors fixed on Dooku with an unwavering attentiveness.
"Yes, Master," EK-72 responded, its voice a modulated baritone that mirrored Dooku's own calm composure.
"Do you have any information on this star system?" Dooku inquired, gesturing towards the holographic projection, his gaze meeting the droid's with a mix of anticipation and a subtle challenge.
EK-72's photoreceptors blinked rapidly, its internal processors whirring softly as it accessed its vast database of information, a repository of knowledge gleaned from years of service to Dooku. "The system is designated as Lotho Minor, Master," the droid reported, its voice a monotone drone. "Its primary celestial body, Lotho Minor, is classified as a junkyard planet. A disposal site for unwanted vessels and hazardous materials. It is a chaotic and dangerous environment, its surface littered with wreckage, its atmosphere toxic, its magnetic field unstable."
Dooku's brow furrowed, skepticism warring with intrigue. "A junkyard planet," he echoed, his gaze returning to the holographic projection, the pulsing red light a stark contrast to the droid's description of a desolate wasteland. "Could something of value truly be lost on such a world?" he mused aloud, his voice laced with a thoughtful contemplation.
"It is possible, Master," EK-72 responded, its voice devoid of inflection. "However, the planet's chaotic nature, the sheer volume of debris and wreckage, makes locating specific items exceedingly difficult. Unless one possessed precise coordinates, or a detailed map of the junkyard's layout, the search would be akin to finding a specific grain of sand on a vast beach."
Dooku leaned closer to the holographic projection, his gaze sharpening as he noticed a faint outline, a subtle detail previously obscured by the system's overall chaotic layout. It was a map, he realized, a detailed schematic of Lotho Minor's surface, its intricate lines and symbols a testament to the holocron creator's meticulous planning. The pulsing red light, he now saw, marked a specific location on the planet's surface, a point near the mangled remains of a freighter, its hull twisted and broken, a silent testament to the junkyard planet's destructive power. "Intriguing," Dooku murmured, a flicker of excitement replacing his initial skepticism. The holocron had led him to Lotho Minor, but its cryptic message, this map marked with a single point of interest, raised more questions than it answered. He needed to visit Lotho Minor soon and uncover the secret of this ship. "Prepare my solar sailer for immediate departure, EK-72," Dooku commanded, his voice regaining its authoritative edge, his gaze fixed on the pulsing red light, his mind already racing ahead, envisioning the challenges that awaited him, the secrets he hoped to unearth, the power he sought to claim. "We depart for Lotho Minor tonight."
The soft hiss of the Senate pod's closing door punctuated the end of another tumultuous session, the echoes of impassioned speeches and heated debates still ringing in Padmé's ears. As she stepped out of the pod, the polished chrome gleaming under the soft illumination of the Rotunda's ambient lighting, a familiar figure, a blur of motion against the backdrop of bustling senators and aides, caught her eye. Anakin, his face etched with a mixture of concern and urgency, was striding towards her, his Jedi robes billowing slightly as he navigated the crowded thoroughfare. A warm smile touched her lips, a flicker of anticipation momentarily eclipsing the weariness that had settled deep within her bones. She had missed him, she realized, a pang of longing echoing the stolen moments they had shared in the quiet sanctuary of her apartment, whispered confidences and shared dreams of a future free from war. "General Skywalker," she greeted him, her voice a soft melody that cut through the rising din of the chamber, her smile widening as he reached her side, his presence a comforting warmth amidst the political machinations that swirled around them. "Nice to see you."
Anakin's smile, however, faltered, replaced by a grim seriousness that made Padmé's heart clench. "Padmé," he began, his voice a low, urgent murmur that hinted at unspoken anxieties, "I need to speak with you. About your dealings with Senator Clovis."
Padmé's brow furrowed, confusion momentarily eclipsing her initial warmth. "My dealings with Senator Clovis?" she echoed, her gaze searching his face, seeking clarification, a glimmer of understanding amidst the sudden shift in his demeanor. "What about them?"
"Master Yoda informed me of his request," Anakin explained, his voice laced with a mix of concern and a subtle accusation that made her bristle. "He asked you to… spy on Clovis. To gather intelligence for the Republic."
A wave of indignation, a righteous anger at the Jedi Council's presumption, surged through Padmé. "Yes, it's true," she responded, her voice hardening, her gaze meeting Anakin's with a defiant spark. "But I refused. I do not spy on friends, Anakin. Or fellow Senators. It's a violation of trust, a betrayal of the very principles I stand for."
"They also mentioned… your past with him," Anakin pressed, his voice softening slightly, the accusation replaced by a hint of uncertainty, a flicker of jealousy that she recognized, but couldn't quite comprehend. Why would her past with Clovis concern him so deeply? Why did it bother Anakin that much?
She met his gaze, her own eyes narrowing slightly, a flicker of annoyance dancing within them. "It's just the past, Anakin," she responded, her voice a carefully measured tone that masked the complex emotions swirling within her. "Nothing happened. He didn't marry me," she added, the words a subtle message meant only for his ears, a reminder of the bond they shared, the secret that bound them together. That she only shared with him.
"Good," Anakin retorted, relief flooding his voice, the tension easing from his shoulders. "Because you're not going to spy on your… Separatist ex."
"You can't accept it, Padmé," Anakin insisted, his voice laced with a mix of concern and a fierce protectiveness that both warmed and frustrated her. "It's too dangerous." He paused, his gaze meeting hers with a plea for understanding. "And what if Dooku finds out? He already sent someone to almost kill you. You can hardly call this being safe."
"You don't get to decide things for me, Anakin," she responded, her voice laced with annoyance, the weight of his possessiveness pressing down on her, a subtle reminder of the constraints that bound them, the secrets they had to keep. "Remember what I told you on the Malevolence?" She longed to confide in him, to share the truth of the rest of Dooku's transmission, but this was not the place.
Anakin knew Padmé was right, but his protectiveness, his fear for her safety, his anger at Dooku, overrode any sense of reason. "I just don't want you to die," he said softly.
She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace, her body a comforting warmth against his, her lips finding his ear, her voice a hushed whisper meant only for him to hear. "Don't worry about me, Ani," she murmured, her tone a blend of reassurance and playful teasing. "I'll be safe. I'll request my… handsome Jedi bodyguard to protect me." She pulled away slightly, a mischievous glint dancing in her eyes, a silent invitation, a promise of the stolen moments that awaited them.
A smile touched Anakin's lips, a surge of relief washing over him, chasing away the anxieties that had clouded his features. "So, you'll always be in my sights?" he asked, his voice a low rumble, the playful banter masking his own yearning for her presence, the joy of knowing she would be nearby. Knowing that Clovis wouldn't be able to hit on his wife without his knowledge.
"You'll need to wear a disguise, but yes," Padmé responded, her smile widening, her heart filled with a quiet happiness. This mission, this dangerous assignment, would be a chance for them to be together, to share stolen moments amidst the chaos, to strengthen the bond that defied the Jedi Code even if they couldn't be husband and wife openly.
Anakin and Padmé, their footsteps a synchronized rhythm against the polished marble floors, approached the imposing entrance to the Jedi Council Chamber. The weight of their shared secret, the forbidden love that bound them together, pressed down on them, a tangible presence amidst the bustling activity of the Jedi Temple. Anakin's hand brushed against Padmé's, a fleeting touch that sent a jolt of warmth through him, a silent reassurance amidst the anxieties that swirled within them. He glanced at her, her serene face a mask of Amidala composure, her elegant senatorial robes a stark contrast to his own Jedi attire. She was a Master of Politics, he thought, a skilled player in the dangerous game of galactic politics. He, on the other hand, felt his emotions, his desires, simmering just beneath the surface, a turbulent current that threatened to betray their carefully constructed facade. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the encounter with the Council, the scrutiny of their gazes, the weight of their judgment. He would play his part, he vowed silently, for Padmé, for their love, for the future they both yearned for. They entered the circular chamber, its panoramic viewport offering a breathtaking vista of Coruscant's sprawling cityscape, a tapestry of light and shadow beneath a sky choked with smog. The Jedi Masters, their faces etched with a mixture of serenity and concern, were already assembled, their gazes settling upon Padmé and Anakin as they approached, their silence a palpable weight that amplified the tension in the room. Anakin bowed his head respectfully, Padmé following suit, her movements graceful and precise, her Amidala mask firmly in place.
"Accept, Senator, did you?" Yoda inquired, his gravelly voice a gentle probe that echoed the unspoken question in his ancient eyes.
"Yes, Master Yoda," Padmé responded, her voice a carefully measured tone that masked the complex emotions swirling within her. "I have accepted the mission to spy on Senator Clovis."
"She did request protection from a Jedi," Anakin added, his voice a subtle reminder of his own involvement, his gaze meeting the Council's with a mix of respect and a carefully concealed possessiveness. "Which I have volunteered for." He knew the Council would have to approve; they needed Padmé and would accept this demand. He would be a shield against the dangers that lurked in the shadows of the Senate. And, perhaps more importantly to him, it would keep her within his sights, away from Clovis's unwelcome attention.
"Expected this, I did," Yoda responded, a subtle smile touching his lips, his ancient eyes twinkling with a knowing amusement. "Approve, the Council does."
"It will take some time to reestablish contact with Senator Clovis," Padmé explained, her gaze shifting towards the holographic display that shimmered in the center of the room, its image a tactical map of the galaxy, a stark reminder of the war that raged beyond the Temple walls. "I broke contact with him some time ago, but he should be… receptive to me."
"Why is that?" Anakin inquired, his voice laced with a mix of curiosity and a subtle suspicion that made Padmé bristle.
Padmé met his gaze, a flicker of annoyance flashing in her eyes. Why did he have to be so jealous, so possessive, especially now, in front of the Jedi Council? She knew she had to tread carefully, to maintain the façade of professional detachment, to conceal the depth of their connection. "He is, or at least was, attracted to me," she responded, her voice a carefully neutral tone that masked the complex emotions swirling within her.
"None of your business, the Senator's personal matters are," Yoda interjected, his voice a gentle reprimand that echoed Padmé's own frustration.
"Yes, General Skywalker," Padmé added, her voice laced with formality that further distanced her from Anakin in the eyes of the Council. This was a good opportunity, she realized, to reinforce the illusion of their professional detachment, to quell any suspicions that might linger within the Jedi Masters' minds. "I'll report back once I have gathered more information, Masters," she finished, bowing her head respectfully before turning to leave, Anakin following close behind, his gaze fixed on her, a mix of frustration and a grudging admiration in his eyes.
As the turbolift doors hissed shut behind them, sealing them within its metallic embrace, Anakin turned towards Padmé, his voice laced with a mix of hurt and accusation. "What was that for, Padmé?" he demanded, his gaze searching hers, seeking an explanation for her seemingly cold dismissal. "I have a right to know some things about you."
Padmé reached out, her hand finding his, her touch a silent apology, a reassurance that echoed the warmth in her eyes. "Ani, that was just for show, a performance for the Jedi," she explained, her voice softening, her Amidala mask melting away as she stepped closer, her body brushing against his, a subtle reminder of the intimacy they shared, the secret that bound them together. "Remember, you married me, no one else will ever be able to say that," she added, a playful lilt returning to her voice as she snuggled closer, her head resting against his shoulder, her warmth a comforting balm to the anxieties that still lingered within him.
"I know that," he responded, his own voice softening, the tension easing from his shoulders as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, savoring the feel of her against him, the scent of wildflowers that clung to her skin. "But that doesn't mean… other people vying for your attention don't bother me." He couldn't help the flicker of jealousy that still lingered, the possessive urge to shield her from male attention and, to keep her safe, to claim her as his own, openly and without fear.
"If it helps," she whispered against his chest, her fingers gently tracing the silver ring that hung from the chain around his neck, a hidden symbol of their bond, a promise of a future where their love could finally bloom in the light, "just remember that no one has ever affected me the way you do, Ani. Not even when we're just standing in the same room." Her words, a whispered confession of the power he held over her, the depth of her love, sent a thrill through him, a surge of joy that eclipsed the uncertainties that loomed before them, the dangers they both faced, the weight of their secret. He held her tight, savoring the moment, the warmth of her embrace, the knowledge that even amidst the chaos, their love would find a way. They were together, and for now, that was enough.