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Upon embarking on the journey of polyamory and having a three-way relationship with Anakin and Ahsoka, one thing that Padmé had not been prepared for or even expected was the way they bickered.
She’d never known Anakin to be one who was interested in engaging in the battle of wits. He’d never been one to mince words, for the most part. The times he came across as witty being because his words were his honest, straightforward thoughts. And in the short time she’d gotten to know Ahsoka over the last month and a half, she’d found the woman had a propensity for wit and pointed one-liners. And it was probably part of the reason Ahsoka was both infamous and famous amongst many of her senatorial colleagues. But sometimes it seemed like wit, snark, and one-liners were the only ways Ahsoka and Anakin knew how to communicate with each other.
Padmé had been… mildly concerned about that. Not for the most part. For the most part it was clear—based on a smile or smirk or twinkling eyes—that it was mostly all in good humor and jest. That the pointed snarky comments had been their way of showing each other they cared in a galaxy where they were used to having to had to hide it. A way to communicate delicate feelings, affection, and a connection that for a Jedi meant weakness, vulnerability, and as she’d learned over the years being married to a Jedi and over the last month with Ahsoka, a fair amount of awkwardness resulting from being just a tad emotionally stunted.
Just a tad…
They were working on it.
And it wasn’t as though Padmé didn’t have her moments where she bickered with Anakin. Or that Anakin didn’t have that tendency with anyone else. Anakin would go back and forth with Obi-wan for hours if they were allowed.
But with Anakin and Ahsoka, Padmé felt like they just toed the line of something… Explosive. Dangerous. Deeply cutting. A deeply personal conflict that was equal parts thrilling and devastating.
Perhaps it was just her, though. She hadn’t been around them both together enough to know if this was… well, Padmé didn’t think it was a particularly normal way to express their feelings. But she did want to make sure that it was at least okay for the two of them.
Padmé asked Obi-wan about it first.
“Have they always been like that?” Padmé asked the Jedi master once on a visit.
“Has their relationship always been a daily, personal challenge between the two to see if and how they can one-up each other?” Obi-wan surmised.
For all that she was the Senator, Obi-wan had perfectly been able to articulate the idea she hadn’t been able to put words to.
“Yes,” Padmé exclaimed. “That’s it. It’s like they sometimes act like they're rivals or opponents in a competition more than a couple or unit.”
“Yes. That’s quite normal for the two of them.”
“I know it’s normal.” A person didn’t live in intimately close quarters with two people and not know when certain behaviors were normal. “I’m asking is it okay? Sometimes, they get so intense with each other, I feel like they might break into a lightsaber fight in the middle of my living room.”
Obi-wan didn’t say anything for a long time. Then he said, “I’m under the assumption that for the longest, it was Ahsoka’s passive-aggressive way of maintaining a sense of control and power in their relationship being that when it started, there was quite a bit of unbalance given the nature of their mentorship. And indulging in it was Anakin’s way of… letting her.”
“I gathered that much. But that’s not what I’m—”
Obi-wan held up a hand. “Let me finish, Padmé.”
Padmé fell silent.
“They’ve grown out of it since the war. More specifically since that period they were broken up for a while. But sometimes they fall back on it in new or high stress situations.”
Well… Padmé supposed that made sense. And maybe that was the reason why she was acutely aware of it. Despite their natural chemistry, it wasn’t easy redefining their relationships. Padmé and Ahsoka had gone from maintaining one romantic relationship to two, and all three of them were still trying to figure out how all three of them fit together. Something that would take much longer than a month. So it made sense they’d fall back on maneuvering through it as a challenge of sorts. Though, that was far from a good way of building a healthy relationship. By looking at it as a challenge to one-up the other. Especially when the supposed opponents were the people you were trying to build a relationship with. You built a relationship together, not separately. That much, Padmé knew.
And Obi-wan still hadn’t really answered Padmé’s question. But perhaps in a roundabout way he had by saying that they’d stopped the habit after they’d gotten back together from a bad breakup. That being that catalyst for them to stop was quite telling. She’d have to sit the two of them down and talk this out when they had the time. And if they couldn’t manage it on their own, Padmé was dragging them both to a relationship counselor to work it out.
But, Padmé realized later after Obi-wan left, Obi-wan was still a Jedi. And she’d found over the years that Jedi tended to view emotions and social interactions very differently from the rest of the galaxy. Hell, the way they settled a disagreement tended to be through whipping out lightsabers and whoever won the duel ended up being right.
So she went to Bail. Bail, who she’d sent Anakin to with Ahsoka years ago to mentor Ahsoka in politics when Padmé had naively thought that they could keep the war and their professional lives (which centered around the war) out their personal relationship. While Ahsoka ended up taking much more of a shine to his wife, Bail had still spent more time around the two together than Padmé had at this point.
When she voiced her concerns over a personal lunch in Bail’s office one day, he burst into laughter.
“I’m sorry,” he said after he was done, “but that is such an apt description of their relationship.”
“I didn’t want it to be apt,” Padmé muttered dryly. She was definitely dragging those two to relationship counseling with her.
“On a serious note, though, you weren’t the only one with concerns,” Bail stated. “When it became clear that there was… much more to their relationship a few years ago, a few of us wondered if it was a sign that there was some coercion involved. Some were even close to reporting it to the Jedi.”
Padmé had to wonder where the hell she had been during all these discussions. Or had she been so self-absorbed with her own issues maintaining a secret marriage that she’d been oblivious to what was going on around her? Particularly, that her husband and his, at the time, padawan’s relationship had apparently been a common topic of gossip.
“Breha managed to assure us that, in her words, Jedi seemed to have the emotional capacity of a teaspoon and only knew how to express their emotions, even positive ones, through passive-aggressive mechanisms,” Bail quoted.
Padmé snickered. Once she, Anakin, and Ahsoka were settled, she was going to have to make sure they found time to spend with Alderaan’s queen.
“That said, it can be quite frustrating to witness and deal with sometimes,” Bail said wearily.
As though he’d summoned the two, Anakin and Ahsoka walked into the office side-by-side, and as they tended to be doing a lot lately, they were bickering yet again. This time, a lot less playful. This time, much closer to that edge of something explosive yet thrilling. And Padmé had the fleeting, lustful thought that that intensity could be quite exciting if channeled in the bedroom. She immediately dismissed the thought. For now.
Tonight, Padmé was going to have her handmaidens help her find a relationship counselor, and first thing tomorrow morning, she was sitting the two down to inform them that she’d made the appointment.
“Well, what was I supposed to do? Just stand there and let that slimy asshole practically undress you with his eyes and make innuendos the whole time we were talking?” Anakin demanded.
“Yes,” Ahsoka said in a calm, long-suffering, but clearly frustrated tone. “That’s exactly what you were supposed to do.”
“So if I hadn’t been there, you would have just stood there and took it?” Anakin asked, stopping to face her with his arms crossed.
“Who’s to say I was going to just sit there and take it? I don’t need you to always jump to my rescue. I’ve been dealing with these sleemos a lot longer than you have. And I would have dealt with it without punching him if you’d given me the chance,” Ahsoka shot back.
“He deserved to be punched.”
“That’s true, but I still have to come here every day for the next two months until this stupid punishment is over. And I’d like to not have it be like walking onto an actual battlefield every time.”
“Maybe it needs to be a battlefield. At least on the battlefield, no one would have cared if I’d knocked the hell out of that guy,” Anakin drawled.
Bail sighed. “Who did you offend now?”
“He punched a senator,” Ahsoka said blandly.
“He deserved it.”
“Should I be worried about a lawsuit being filed against one of you?” Bail asked.
“He’s not going to if he doesn’t want me to publicly accuse him of sexual harassment,” Ahsoka said simply.
“Do you want to file a complaint against him?” Bail asked.
“Yes,” Anakin answered.
“Not yet. As much as I don’t approve of Anakin’s methods, now I’ve got one more vote in favor of the Clone relief initiative and the Jedi bid for some kind of reparations for our services during the war,” Ahsoka said with a shrug.
Padmé was equally impressed and terrified. Impressed that Ahsoka was savvy enough to resort to that kind of political blackmail to get what she wanted. A little terrified that she’d managed to twist a situation to keep Anakin out of trouble when he was objectively wrong despite his intentions being right and noble. And for a fleeting moment, Padmé wondered if Ahsoka had planned it that way. Had known Anakin wouldn’t take kindly to the senator’s objectification of her and would overreact. Both managing to keep a kind and benevolent reputation while also dealing with the man exactly the way she’d wanted him to be dealt with despite her disapproval.
Padmé rolled her eyes a little at herself. Ahsoka wasn’t so devious. She was pretty straightforward. Much like Anakin.
Still.
“Why not report it? Aren’t you concerned that you might not be the only person he’s treated that way?” Padmé asked.
Ahsoka’s eyes flashed, and her smirk matched the positively cruel, smug one that came across Anakin’s face.
“Oh,” she began airily, “I don’t think we’ll have to worry about that senator acting so improperly again.”
“Not if he knows what’s good for him,” Anakin added. He turned to Bail. “Anyway, we just wanted to run that by you before it came across your desk some other way.”
Anakin and Ahsoka greeted them, telling Padmé that they’d see her at the apartment later, before leaving the office.
Bail sighed. “And then there’s those situations. Do you want to know how many times their names have come across my desk together since the Jedi High Council decided to send them both here as representatives for punishment?”
“I imagine you’re starting to feel like it’s more of a punishment for you than for them.”
It also might be why, Padmé mused, Anakin and Ahsoka were going back and forth so much lately. Working together on something they were both ill-suited for could understandably do that.
“My only consolation is that I think the Jedi Council is going to eventually figure out that having your husband here to represent them is counterproductive. No offense to you, my friend.”
“None taken. Anakin’s never been well suited for politics,” Padmé agreed.
Bail took a deep breath. “You don’t know how much I’ve thanked every god and higher power out there over the last month that the universe saw fit for them to end up Jedi and not career politicians or government officials. Could you even imagine?”
A fleeting image crossed her mind. Of her husband and their partner in attire that was both appropriate for military and the Senate. With members of the senate in a conference room. With both of them lording over everyone to get something done for the government. With Ahsoka appearing benevolent and kind and polite as she was capable of when needed. And with Anakin suffering from a general intolerance of the political process and the slog of governing, there to knock heads with anyone that might give Ahsoka trouble. Going back and forth between seeing each other as opponents—borderline enemies—and being an unstoppable Force of nature that those under them had no choice but to cooperate with and make the best of.
“I can,” Padmé said. Then she grinned at Bail and said, “The idea of those two with political careers is ridiculous but also quite a bit terrifying. I’m not sure if the galaxy would be better off for it or worse.”
“Let’s be glad we don’t have to contemplate it.”
Right, Padmé thought to herself. Besides, she had to deal with the very real issue of talking the two into relationship counseling with her. Something even harder to conceptualize being successful than the comparatively ludicrous thought of them running the galaxy.