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"I hate you!"
The silence is deafening in the wake of Leia's shout. Luke glances between all of them, eyes wide and unsure. For all of his fire and spirit, Anakin's son has always been the peacemaker, the conciliator. Leia is a bundle of taut lines, flushed and coiled, ready to spring into motion. As one moment becomes two becomes three, Anakin can feel her regret blossoming, smothering all else in its path.
And Padmé; beautiful, wonderful, fierce, strong Padmé. His wife looks like she's been smacked in the face. She has a spine of beskar, the weight of a galaxy wide rebellion on her shoulders, but three words from her daughter are all it takes to fold her, to make her breath hitch and eyes sheen.
Anakin steps forward from where he'd been leaning in the doorway, the carpet muffling the noise of his durasteel legs, and catches Leia's gaze immediately. A million emotions muddy her presence in the Force as she waits, her usual shields fraying under the stress.
"You are entitled to your emotions, to your thoughts and opinions, but don't you ever, ever raise your voice at your mother again. Am I clear?" he asks quietly.
Leia swallows, her mouth a thin line like she's trying not to cry herself. Anakin knows because he does the same thing. She nods, short, jerky movements.
"Am I clear?"
"Yes," she answers, voice warbling on the edge of falling away to nothing.
Anakin sighs, closing his eyes for a long moment. He's tired, in the way that he's been tired for years and years now. The ache in his bones means it will probably rain later today and the pounding at the base of his skull is horrific to the point of distraction, but he forces himself to be calm. His yelling and screaming and pounding his fist won't do anyone any good. No, he needs to be the adult, the parent, the father. His children, his responsibility. They didn't ask for any of this.
"Go find a spot and blow off some steam, but do not leave this compound. Understood?" He waits for another nod from his daughter before tilting his head towards the door which she hurries out of. "Luke, Obi-Wan is expecting you for a lesson."
Luke stands, glancing between him and Padmé for a moment before he nods and leaves. Anakin sinks into the chair next to his wife with a muffled groan, taking her hand. She squeezes it, turning to look at him as the tears finally spill over.
"Oh, angel," he says softly, pulling until she shifts over and into his lap.
Anakin wraps her in his arms, wishing he could shield her from everything, even if he knows he can't, that she wouldn't let him. Padmé is the rock upon which their family is built, but in those rare moments where she cracks, Anakin is always there to catch her, to let her fall apart and put the pieces back together again. He shushes her, rocking a little in his seat as he presses kisses to her hair, rubs his hand up and down her back, slowly, in a rhythm he'd often used to get the twins to settle when they were younger, a movement his own mother had used with him.
He envelops her in the Force, lets the love and admiration and respect he has for her suffuse every inch of their bond. It isn't very often he turns all of his attention inward like this, not when danger hounds their every step and the early warning of a threat could save countless lives, but he's not the only Force sensitive person on the base, and he trusts the others to keep themselves alert in his stead.
They sit together for a long while, long after Padmé's tears have dried up and she has pulled herself back together, every piece held in place by his gentle hands and loving words. Anakin could hardly remember the last time they'd had this much time alone uninterrupted in the middle of a day. It's something he cherishes beyond all measure.
"I'm afraid our daughter has inherited my diplomatic tact," Anakin murmurs. "I'm sorry."
Padmé huffs a laugh, her fingers curling into his sides. "I'd say the blame is equal among us. I've never had a problem speaking my mind and we've raised them both to be strong and fearless. I just- I never expected..."
"She didn't mean it, regretted it as soon as the words left her mouth."
"I know that, I do, but there's something under it, right? Something else that's feeding that frustration and discontent."
"They want to help, to serve. No wonder where they got that from," Anakin says.
There was little chance that a child of Anakin Skywalker and Padmé Amidala was ever going to be happy as an idle bystander, content to watch others do the work that needed to be done to help those in need. He's not sure if it's just in their blood or because he raised them on stories of Ekkreth, teaching them that no one is free if even one person remains in chains. There is no denying the chains of the Empire wrapped around the galaxy now.
As much as he understands it, though, it doesn't make him any less terrified and he can feel the same fear from Padmé. Luke and Leia are their children, precious beings for whom they're fighting so hard. Like their mother, Anakin wishes he could keep them tucked away, safe and sound from the dangers of life, but he knows he can't with them anymore than he can with Padmé. It's a harsh truth, maybe the harshest of his life; to love someone is to respect them enough to let them make their own choices, to accept that he can't always be there for them, to train and prepare them as best he can and let them live.
"I get that, I really do, but they're still so young," Padmé says softly.
"They're the same age you were during the Siege on Naboo, older than Ahsoka when she came to the frontlines of the Clone War. I'm not saying it makes it right, just that we can't be total hypocrites about it."
"I think I finally realize why my parents hovered so much after that whole thing," Padmé says with a huff. "Stars, Ani, where have the years gone?"
Anakin shakes his head with a sigh. It somehow feels like only a week ago he'd met Padmé for the first time, completely awestruck by her and yet also like an eon has passed.
"I'll talk to her," he murmurs. Padmé nods, turns to press sweet kisses against his mouth. Anakin returns them, lets his flesh and blood hand cup her cheek before he pulls away with a low sigh. "Unless you plan on giving the twins a sibling, you should probably get off my lap."
Padmé laughs high and bright, sliding away from him with an impish grin. "Control yourself."
"Around you? Never," he answers, letting his gaze roam over her exaggeratedly. She rolls her eyes, but her smile is enough to make his pain go away for just a moment, and it's enough for him to live on, chasing that feeling day after day.
It isn't hard to find Leia, her presence in the Force a familiar focal point for him. The base is tucked into the foot of a mountain range, covered in dense foliage. Leia is perched on a small outcropping a little ways up the slope. Anakin reaches it in three Force aided jumps and ignores the way his stumps scream at him. He drops down next to her and gazes over the vast expanse of forest and the darkening clouds.
Leia's chin sits on her knees, arms wrapped tight around her shins. He can feel the tension pouring off of her and decides not to prolong her misery, laying his arm across her shoulders and pulling her into his side. She all but deflates, going boneless against his larger frame and Anakin has to suppress a smile. He remembers all the times he pressed himself against Obi-Wan's side like this and makes a note to thank his friend for everything, again.
"Your amu loves you, you know that right?"
Leia nods, sniffling against his tunic. Anakin sighs and squeezes her reassuringly. There was a time in his life where the most stressful thing he had to deal with was history exams and diplomatic missions with Obi-Wan while he was still a Padawan. Force, how did it all get so complicated? Not that he would trade it for anything in the galaxy. No, his family is everything to him, even when they scream and fight and hurt each other.
"And so do I. So much you wouldn't believe it," he says. "It shadows our every thought, every decision, every moment from when we wake to when we fall asleep. So maybe you could cut her a little slack, because on top of all that worrying she does about you and your brother, she's one of the main leaders of a rebellion movement."
"I know, I know. I just can't stand doing nothing, watching you and Obi-Wan and Ahsoka and Rex and everyone go out and contribute while I sit here, like my life is somehow more important. It's not, you taught me that. Everyone is equally important, everyone matters," Leia says, her tone one of fire and conviction. "I can help, I can be useful. What's the point of all the lessons and training if I never use it?"
Anakin chuckles, shaking his head at her affronted glare. "Sometimes with you it's like looking in a mirror. I thought the same thing when I was your age. I had the Force and a lightsaber and the unshakable belief that I could fix the galaxy if Obi-Wan would just stop treating me like a child. The truth is it takes a collective effort, and you're right, that means everyone contributes and does their part. When it's for real, though, akku , all of those lessons and that training doesn't ever feel like enough.
"Running real missions, even the simple stuff, means being responsible for people's lives. It means trusting the person to either side of you to see you home safely, and failing them..." Anakin trails off, taking a deep breath. "I still see the faces of men and women who died under my command. Some nights, I lay in bed and when I close my eyes, all I can do is watch as they are killed, again and again."
Leia is watching him with wide eyes, Padme's eyes. He brushes his thumb under those eyes, swiping away her tears. His mother had once told him tears were a waste of water, but that was a different life. As bad as it ever gets, the worst day now is still better than his best day had ever been on Tatooine.
"That's what your mom and I are trying to protect you from, that burden, that pain. It's not a matter of trusting you or how capable you are, it's just a fact of war that not everyone makes it back every time, and once that last bit of your innocence is gone, there is no getting it back," Anakin says.
"I'm sorry, ipu ," she whispers, launching herself into his chest, arms wrapped around him like tzai vines.
"I know you are, my krayt, and so does your mother," he says, taking a deep breath before letting her pull away to look into her eyes. "But you still need to apologize to her. And if you want to yell at someone, yell at me."
Leia sniffles and gives a watery chuckle. "I don't want to yell at anyone. And I will."
Anakin gives her a warm smile, basking in the one he receives before his daughter descends from their perch with far more grace than he thinks he'll be able to manage. The ache in his bones is worse, the clouds fat and dark and drawing ever closer. The Empire is still in control, there are still slaves, and there is no end in sight, but Anakin lets himself be content for a moment.
For years he'd prided himself on being a great mechanic, the best pilot, a deadly duelist. None of it, though, compares to the effort and love he puts into being a husband and father, and he wouldn't have it any other way. His love is his strength, and he knows he will fight for as long as he needs to to see them happy. And maybe if he's very lucky, he might just spare his children some of the pain and hardships he's endured.