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"I'm aware it's perfectly true," he tells her with feigned innocence. "I'm also resigned to the fact that in five years' time, I will probably be completely white-haired, between your penchant for trouble and Anakin's similar insistence on finding it. I seem to be the only sensible person left in this little group."

"I'm not sure I agree with the idea of you being the sensible one of the group," she refutes with a charmed smile, withdrawing her hand from his arm as the path begins to narrow. "But I think you'll look quite handsome still with white hair." That smile is just a bit cheeky as she turns and continues leading him, frequently looking back to make sure he's not having any trouble as the incline gets steeper.

Obi-Wan's eyes widen in surprised delight at her sauciness, following Padmé easily even as the path becomes more rustic and steep.

"Well, that's fortunate," he says a few moments later, drawing near to her shoulder, "because I will most assuredly go white long before you." Age has never bothered him in companions before - and it doesn't now either, Jedi have naturally long lives thanks to their strong connection to the Force - but every now and then he is reminded that Padmé is over a decade younger than him. She's mature, and compared to Anakin, only 5 years her junior, she might as well be middle-aged. Being long-lived doesn't mean he won't continue to look his age. For all he knows, he'll end up looking like Master Yoda.

Edited (omg random tense change) 2018-09-12 05:08 (UTC)

Age has never been the slightest concern for Padmé, who has spent her life surrounded by those much older than she. While child leaders were quite commonplace on Naboo, the same could not be said for other parts of the galaxy, and she had always worked quite closely with her advisers and later with other senators. There are many times when she forgets just how young she really is, truthfully.

"With my chosen career, nothing is certain," she points out, intending for the comment to allude to the stress of the political sphere. Though, in retrospect and considering the catalyst for their marriage... Well. Hopefully he won't interpret it thus.

Obi-Wan understands what she meant by the comment, but also hears the other meaning: her chosen field is dangerous, her life could be cut short. He responds to both when he replies, "The same can be said for the Jedi. We'll just have to take care of each other, it seems."

Because they're having a pleasant conversation, Obi-Wan lets the worry of peril and death slide past him; worrying now will do nothing but ruin a perfectly good day, as there's nothing he can concretely plan for. Instead, he continues to follow Padmé, until they reach a break in the foliage, entering a clearing that sits atop an outcropping overlooking the water. Glancing to the side, he can see the manor, large and majestic.

"Well. I can see why you enjoy this spot."

Taking care of each other sounds so... wonderful. When the idea of a bodyguard through marriage had first been proposed to her, she'd been staunchly against it, not wanting to put another person so thoroughly in harm's way for her own sake alone. Really, she'd accepted the arrangement only after that last attack, and under the strict condition that she have final say on her guard. And now look at them. She would never have guessed the turns her life would take even a week ago.

"I used to come up here to practice my speeches," she confides as she steps closer to the edge, though still a safe distance from the drop. "I'd recite them over and over until I was completely comfortable with every word. It was the middle of the night before I reached that point with my coronation address, and I had to make my way back down in the dark."

Listening to her story, Obi-Wan is both charmed and resigned. It's not as if she could have stayed here until morning, when it would have been safer to travel back down the path, but if ever there was an anecdote that so thoroughly expressed her disregard for her own safety...

"Of course you did," he comments, moving to stand next to her for a moment and take in the view, opening his senses to feel the life surrounding them.

"I'm going to miss this, when we return to Coruscant," he confides. "I always feel that way, when I return from a mission in the wilderness. But it's usually tempered by the fact that in said wilderness, I've been fighting for my life. This... the Temple Meditation gardens won't be the same."

"We'll come back as often as we can," she promises him, slipping her arm around his waist and leaning in against him. Perhaps one day they'd even be able to bring Anakin here, once he was older and they had all settled into their new roles. "I used to stay with my family when I was in Theed, but we can find a home of our own for when I need to be here. Something on the outskirts of the city might offer you a similar experience, especially near one of the waterfalls."

Obi-Wan's inclination is to feel uncomfortable, discussing buying a house, before he remembers that, as a married couple, buying a house is a completely natural, even expected thing to do. Still... "It sounds lovely. But I don't want to you to put yourself out, just for a small bit of my comfort."

Speaking of her family... "You know, I met your parents and sister at the ceremony, but we didn't get much chance to converse. What do they think of this development?"

She's glad that he doesn't protest the idea of the house too strongly - she's not prepared for their first argument. The both of them are stubborn, she's learned at least that much over the years, and she has no doubt that when they do have that first argument, it will be something of legend.

"They were a little unsure of it, at first," she admits. "But they often bring up the Trade Federation's invasion whenever my career comes up in conversation. They were so worried for me, and so relieved when my term as queen finished, but they've started to realize that the Senate can be just as dangerous. If anything now, they're grateful that it's you of all people."

The worry her family feels is understandable, but he's surprised at the last thing she says. "Me? Why?" He would assume because he's a Jedi, but it's clear from the way Padmé says it that it's not just a Jedi in general, but him specifically that they're grateful to. As far as he's aware, the only way they would know of him would be after the blockade; but even then, he had been a Padawan, not the leader, and Padmé herself had solved the blockade, while he and Qui-Gon... while they had been fighting their own battle.

She leans back enough to look up at him, her expression open and unguarded, affection etched across every line of her face. "Because I know you," she explains, though she feels as though it should have been rather a bit obvious. "And because I trust you."

Because her family is well aware that even having a team of bodyguards surrounding her at all times would amount to nothing if she didn't trust them. Having one man by her side who she already considered a friend? Well, they did hope that it would lead her to being perhaps a little less reckless with her own safety. (She didn't feel it necessary to destroy that illusion for them just yet.)

"Hmmm," he hums, leaning forward to kiss her. "Trusting me and listening to me are two very different things, my lady," he murmurs. "Is your family aware of that?"

Drawing the blanket from her arm, he shakes it out before placing it down, close enough to the cliff edge to still be able to appreciate the spectacular view, but far enough back so as not to feel as if they're in imminent danger of toppling over.

Every touch of his hand and brush of his lips on her skin reminds Padmé of what it feels like to be alive - she'd almost forgotten it in the pain of the last months. And for every inch of contact, she pleads for more, in catches of breath and sighs of pleasure, her own caresses to urge him to continue, and whispered utterances of his name. She begs him not to stop, and hopes that he will allow himself to drift away on the passion they share that night.

Later, lying in the warmth of his arms, she realizes this is the first time she's felt a moment of peace since that horrible day.

For the time they are together, Obi-Wan thinks of nothing but her, forgets the pain and guilt he's been living with, the uncertainty he's been fighting these last long months. Even as they lie together afterward, the heartache and pain is slow to return, gradual and, for the moment at least, easy to ignore.

On the edge of sleep, with the fire warm at his back and Padmé pressing warmth to his front, Obi-Wan remembers the premonitory dream he'd had that had sent him to check on her in the first place. Will this allay the vision, or when he leaves will she work herself harder, bereft of his dubious comfort and company?

He pulls Padmé closer to him, resting his cheek against her hair, praying he hasn't just made things worse, for either of them. Because he is not a solitary creature by nature, and these past months have been hard on him even without all the recriminating thoughts he's dealt with; just being so isolated has taken its toll more than he realized.

She accepts that kiss with a smile that turns into a laugh. Her family is well aware of that fact, but they still tend to hope for the best in spite of her nature. And truthfully, she loves them all the more for it.

Settling on the blanket, she leans back on her hands and gazes out at the water for a moment before turning her attention back to him and something he'd said earlier. "I want you to know, your comfort is no small thing to me, Obi-Wan," she informs him, keeping her tone gentle instead of letting any senatorial authority slip into the words. "If I can do something for you, then I want to."

In the middle of pulling out their lunch from the satchel, Obi-Wan glances over at her in surprise at the non-sequitur. He smiles at her affectionately, but shakes his head a little. "I do appreciate that. I want for very little though, and comfort is a small thing for me. Clean clothes, a comfortable bed to sleep in and shelter from the elements are all luxuries I've had to forgo in the past, and so they are the only comforts I know I truly require. Anything else feels like extravagance."

It's not that he enjoys comfort and luxury when he can get it, but he is a tactile person, and enjoys the comfort that seems to only come from well-made, expensive items. He can't stomach too much rich, fine food, instead preferring simple fare, but even then he can appreciate the quality of it. Clothing is where his downfall lies, and he has always held his appreciation and love of fine linen, watery silks and supple leather close to his chest, unwilling to let anyone else know that he is not the austere Jedi one would expect.

Their time together is like a balm to her soul, like wrapping a blanket around the raw pain she's carried in her heart. It's easier to breathe, her thoughts are lighter, and she forgets that she's lost more than one person should ever have to bear.

Padmé sleeps well that night, better than she has in months, warm and safe in Obi-Wan's arms. It's only when sunlight begins to filter into the tiny house that she stirs, shifting slightly with a soft murmur.

It comes as no surprise to hear him say any of that; it seems the Jedi way to make do with very little and be content with a simple life. A life so very different from the one she leads, the one that he is now a part of. Again, she wonders how that will work between them, how they will fold their lives together, but those are thoughts for another time.

"Just because you don't require something doesn't mean you aren't allowed to enjoy it," she points out earnestly. "You'll have more than just a comfortable bed and clean clothes in our home -- and I would like it to be our home, for you to be able to relax and take comfort in being there." It's incredibly important to her that that happen, actually.

Surprisingly, Obi-Wan sleeps most of the night peacefully as well. It's Padmé moving beside him that wakes him, and he stretches with a quiet groan. "It's morning?" he questions into the silence, sitting up and scrubbing his hands over his face. His beard needs trimmed, he notices faintly, even as he glances down at Padmé beside him.

He reaches out to brush his hand over her hair, but stops and lets his hand fall beside her head instead. Taking comfort from physical intimacy is one thing - he's afraid to let the affection he has for her grow. Not because he's a Jedi who shouldn't form attachments - although look how well that worked out with his Padawan, he thinks with a grimace - but if he grows too attached to Padmé... It would be such an easy thing, and disastrous in the long run.

Brushing his hand over her shoulder, he murmurs, "I hate to disturb your well-earned rest, but morning has come."

Smiling, he reaches over to pick up her hand and kiss the back of it. "I promise, I will be able to relax and take comfort there. It's not--" he pauses, trying to find the right words. "You're right; not requiring something doesn't mean I can't enjoy it. I'm not disputing that. I do enjoy luxury, but it's not something I was... raised to expect, I suppose you could say. Have I seemed ill at ease here?" He gestures toward the manor they're staying at, down the cliff.

"I don't want you to think, just because I prefer simpler things, that I'm... thumbing my nose at those who enjoy luxury and extreme comfort." He gives her a mischievous smile and nod of his head. "Or those who were raised with it, my lady. But I'm much more comfortable wearing simple tunics rather than elaborate formal clothing. My system isn't used to rich food, and so I have a natural tendency to--" he holds up a slice of cheese, "--go for the simple things. That's all."

Drifting between wakefulness and sleep, Padmé feels warm, safe, and content. The memories of the last months are kept at bay by the solid presence of another beside her, but that awareness slips into something else at the touch of a hand to her shoulder and those soft words.

Anakin. The second the name forms in her mind, she remembers everything. Her husband's fall, the loss of her children, the life she now wakes to each day. All of it presses against her chest and when she opens her eyes to look up at Obi-Wan--

"Thank you," she murmurs in return, sitting up slowly and visibly struggling to pull herself together. Hopefully he'll think it's just her trying to fully wake rather than her attempt at combating crushing grief.

It's easy to see some emotion pass over her face when she looks at him, and while he doesn't have a chance to figure out what it is before Padmé is pulling back into herself, he can hazard a few guesses.

Reaching out, he places his hand on her shoulder for just a moment, before standing and pulling on his trousers and under-tunic. Having helped dinner last evening, he's familiar now with the small kitchen space and where things are kept, so he easily starts putting together a simple breakfast, boiling water for tea, naturally.

Waking up in an unfamiliar room on an unfamiliar bed, Jacen felt a momentary surge of panic. He tried to sit up, but he couldn’t; everything just hurt.

He closed his eyes to steady himself, breathing deeply against the pain. A few things began to come back — the massive solar storm, the coralcraft being torn apart, being forced into an escape pod by a travel companion he couldn’t put a face or name to. He remembered slipping into some sort of meditation, trying to find a semblance of peace even as he was hurtling through space, being pulled in all directions.

People had said that he and his siblings all had that charming, roguish look about them, courtesy of their father. But the years forced on him by the Vong during his captivity had hardened his features, bringing out that air of steely fierceness from his mother’s side of the family tree.

“The past has been there all along, reminding us:
This time--maybe, hopefully, against all odds, we will get it right.”

Four years ago, the galaxy changed. Democracy had been crushed under the boots of an army that spread across the stars, washing away every trace of how things had once been, like a river flooding over a field.

Four years ago, Padmé Amidala lost everything she loved in that flood. Her husband, children, and home, friends, family and hope, all of it swept away on the tide. Every last shred of what she held most dear was torn from her soul and she was left clinging to life with a broken heart, as if hanging on by bare fingertips. Hidden away in a remote village on an even more remote planet in the Outer Rim, she couldn't be farther from Naboo or Coruscant, from anything that reminded her of what she'd lost... Or any who might remember her.

In those first months after she had come to this little world, every day had been excruciating. Everything reminded her of the life she was supposed to live and all that she had lost. Each morning she woke alone in the small bed rolled out upon the worn stone floor. She walked the hour to the nearby village to work for a meager wage, returning home late in the day to continue toiling by firelight. Each night she cried herself to sleep and prayed to the gods of Naboo that her children were safe. Every day that passed was like a thousand.

And then a thousand really did pass and somehow... things did get a little easier. The pain of her loss was a part of her now, a scar on her heart that no longer felt out of place. For so long, each day that passed had been harder than the last, and all that kept her going was a singular thought: One day, her children might need her. Now, though... Now she paid penance for her guilt in all that had transpired, going through the same monotonous daily routine. Wake, work, sleep. Again, and again.

She never expected that her life would change again so suddenly and without warning, but when does one ever expect to see a streak of smoke trailing behind a ship entering the atmosphere at the wrong angle and speed, that streak wavering as the ship tried to straighten itself - a valiant effort that failed in a spectacular crash in the forest so near her home.

For one split second, Padmé was afraid. The Empire, was this one of theirs? Would helping this ship lead to her discovery? Would this be her end? But those thoughts were left behind as instinct urged her forward along the path from the village, racing across the open fields and not hesitating to run headfirst into the trees.

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a space-time rift brings forth a grandson

𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝒶𝓈𝓉 𝓇𝑒𝓂𝒾𝓃𝒹𝓈 𝓊𝓈


P a d m é	A m i d a l a	N a b e r r i e