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She is going to be late, and it most likely is his fault. Whatever Padmé’s deep (too deep) feelings for Anakin Skywalker, she can safely say right now she is fed up with his childishness.
Queen Jamillia requested her presence at the Royal Advisory Council, and as a Senator of Naboo, she must be there. As a former queen, Padmé wants to be there to advise and support her successor in whatever way she can.
When the speeder breaks down halfway between her home and Theed, Anakin makes a big show about how there’s no way he’ll be able to repair it. It’s a parts issue, and there’s no shortcut to jumpstart the ship back to life.
They’ll have to walk. She is not wearing the proper shoes for this.
His loud and repeated insistence that there is nothing to be done makes him look highly suspicious; as if he damaged the speeder as a practical joke. He doesn’t have the decency to pretend he’s ashamed she’ll miss a critical meeting.
She trails behind; feet pinched by formal slippers. He’s stopped denying his guilt, giving her the chance to harp on the importance of her presence at the council.
“As the system’s former queen, and its current senator, why wouldn’t I be at the council on time? Whatever you may think, politicians do like to maintain their schedules.”
In front of her, he chuckles, but says nothing.
Continuing, “It’s funny, is it? Don’t Jedi enforce things like schedules and order, or do you purposefully ignore all of their standards?”
Not turning face her, “It’s a beautiful day, Padmé. I really think you should enjoy it.”
On Coruscant and back home on the lake, she ached for the want of simple touch. Now she is simply ready to throttle him.
“Padmé…”
Tense alertness replaces the laughter and teasing in his tone; her stomach clenches. Intelligence says she is a high-ranking target for Separatists; they’ve finally found her. She whips her head around trying to spot anything amiss, but sees nothing.
Then she realizes she can’t see Anakin.
Before total panic can seize hold of her, something – no, someone – crashes into her, winding her completely as they both fall to the ground.
“Anakin, what the –”
But he’s not listening to her. She can feel his silent laughter rumbling in his chest.
“This is payback for the lake, isn’t it?”
He grins. She can see all his teeth and oh, does she want to kiss him, just to wipe the look of triumph off his face.
“Yep, payback.”
As they lay on the ground, unmoving, he leans in and she could swear to all the gods he is going to kiss her (please, please, end this anticipation). She inhales, ever so slightly; they are so close he has to notice her breath hitching.
At the last second, he hesitates and rolls onto his back, letting out a massive sigh. He leaves her no choice: she must take charge of whatever it is they have. (Two people, unafraid of consequences, unless their hearts are on the line.)
But as he wanted revenge for an unconventional swimming lesson, she will exact her own for the delayed meeting.
(Let him be the one held in anticipation a little while longer.)
She rises, trying her best to brush the dirt from her dress and smooth out the wrinkles, “Well, this is ruined.”
He sits up, but does not stand up, “But now you have an excuse for being late. We thought we spotted an enemy ship, and you look like something happened.”
Yes, something did happen, Anakin Skywalker: you tried to scare me and I am braver for it. You won’t see what’s coming next.
She sighs and shakes her head, then continues down the road to Theed, leaving Anakin to scrambling to catch up.
----------
She refuses to hire a speeder to bring them back.
She mockingly throws his words back in his face. “It’s a beautiful day. Don’t you think we should try and enjoy it?”
Anakin doubts he’ll be in a good mood again for the rest of the day. The meeting at the palace was tedious, and the council condescending.
When Palpatine’s security measures on Coruscant were called into question, Anakin, rather foolishly, stepped in to come to the Chancellor’s defense, but he was quickly cut off.
“I believe we know more about Chancellor Palpatine’s intentions for the war than you do, Jedi; he is one of our own,” chides Sio Bibble.
Anakin retreated to the shadows to stew; Padmé did nothing to intervene.
Councilors and the queen are uncertain about becoming entangled in the inevitable war.
“If the war does come to Naboo, we will have no choice but to become involved. Might it be better to pledge our support to the Republic now, before it is too late?” Padmé pushed.
“You are, as always, Senator Amidala, your father’s daughter.”
Anakin was not sure the councilor meant it as a compliment when he sees Padmé flinch and remained silent.
The sun beats down, nowhere near as hot as Tatooine, but enough to hold his ill temper.
Without turning around, (he can sense she’s still there) he asks, “What did Bibble mean by ‘your father’s daughter’?” He bounces the spare speeder part they picked up back and forth in his hands.
Her pause makes him curious. He stops and turns to face her. She sits on a log on the side of the path, examining one of her shoes closely.
If this means he has to carry her back to the house, he’s not having it. (He’s not sure he could restrain himself.) This is her retaliation and it might just be too far.
“Something in those impractical shoes of yours?”
He steps towards her; it is his downfall. She grabs the front of his robes, pulls him down to her, and kisses him, and his whole galaxy becomes her. The speeder part falls to the ground, forgotten.
Restraint is no longer an option. She slips down from the log; he goes with her, mouths barely breaking apart.
They lay in the tall grass, and he takes her up in both his hands. (There is only so much the Force can feel.) She is all softness and curves and wonderful. His mind is almost completely blank as he feels her legs under her skirts and her own hands yank away at his robes; fingertips roaming bare skin.
Mid-gasp (or is it a laugh?), she whispers “I love you.”
It is thunder in his ears. It is all he has wanted to hear since he met her. It is possibly all he has waited to hear his whole life.
She loves him; as he loves her. He cannot think of anything that compares.
Into the hollow of her neck, smelling of sweat and perfume, he whispers, “I love you too.”
The day is definitely not a loss.
----------
They live in a world where nothing touches them. It is as if a war is not starting. Politicians do not hound Padmé; the Jedi Council cannot tell Anakin he is desecrating their ancient order.
Anakin tells himself that with no supervision, they can do as they please, but he knows it is not true. No matter how entwined they become, they cannot bring themselves to completely let go. Years of training and drills in duty have finally caught up with them, now, when it should matter least.
Their pledges of love are bad enough; they damned themselves. It is damnation Anakin can live with.
They sit in silence on the veranda, his head resting in her lap as she runs her fingers through his hair; the stars in the sky their only witnesses.
She speaks contemplatively of his question from days before.
“Sio Bibble and my father used to have their disagreements. My father strove to balance loyalty to Naboo and the Republic when he was on the council, as I try to as its senator. Many, Bibble included, thought my father was unpatriotic. They all think I devote too much time to interplanetary politics, but they fail to see that the galaxy is changing. More fortunate planets need to come to the aide of those who cannot help themselves.”
Anakin laughs, “You’re quite the little rebel on Naboo, then.”
“Hardly. My mother always used to say I was a good girl, caring more for others than myself. But I do want things – things I’m not supposed to have. I just tell myself I don’t want them…”
She goes quiet. She is edging too close to the reality that neither of them wants to see, not yet. Anakin reaches for her stray hand and kisses it.
Now that he has her, how could he bear to lose her?
What other choice is there?
----------
Reality catches them some days later when his holo crackles to life: Obi-Wan grim-faced, as usual.
“The situation on Geonosis is getting rather dire. We need more generals leading the clones and the 501st is short a commander.”
“Okay and what am I supposed to do about it?”
“Be here in under forty-eight hours. The Council wants you on the front, General Skywalker. Enjoy your promotion.” Obi-Wan sounds as though he cannot believe what he is saying. Anakin is shocked himself – so rarely does the Council bother to acknowledge him.
“And what about my current mission? Who’s watching the senator?”
“The war effort is being prioritized over senators’ protection, for the time being. Under no circumstances is Senator Amidala to come with you. You will resume bodyguard duty when the campaign is over.”
Padmé stands in the doorway; Anakin runs his hands over his face.
Glumly, “I suppose you overheard that.”
“Yes. And I’m coming with you.”
“No way! First: Obi-Wan said you can’t come. Second: I’m supposed to be protecting you. How is going into the middle of a war zone keeping you safe? I don’t know what I’d do –”
He hears himself becoming more anxious, but does not know how to stop the trembling in his voice.
She sits next to him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.
“First: Obi-Wan is not my superior officer, I do not answer to him. I won’t let you get in trouble for this. Second: I know how to shoot. You’ll need all the help you can get, what’s one more blaster in the fight?” She squeezes him. “They can’t take us apart, not yet.”
Oh, but they can, his heart warns.
----------
This is it – this is how she (they) very well may die.
Landing on Geonsis was more difficult than anticipated. They missed the drop spot by miles, not to be found by the Grand Army of the Republic, but by Separatists.
Now they are to die for sport in the arena.
Wrists in binders, they still manage to keep their fingers locked.
“Marry me.”
There is no panic in his voice or on his face. He speaks with such determination and certainty, Padmé reels.
She is tired. Tired of making decisions for others, tired sacrificing herself for those decisions. Just once, she wants to give in to her own needs. (Is this too much to ask?)
“Yes.”
There is no uncertainty in her tone. Let others regret their decisions.
They kiss one final, ferocious time as the Geonosians rip them apart.
It tastes like blood.