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That earns him another laugh; she's seen some of those advantages in action and she'd never bet against a Jedi. She almost pitied those who tried, but really they should know better.
"I'll save the challenges for my handmaidens, then," she decides with humor. "It'll be a fairer fight that way."
"I'll save the challenges for my handmaidens, then," she decides with humor. "It'll be a fairer fight that way."
"Ah," he responds with mock-gravity. "Now there's a challenge I'm not sure I'm up for. If they are as formidable as you were, I think I would rather graciously bow out, with my dignity still intact." Unable to hold it in any longer, he grins at Padmé, enjoying the silliness of the moment.
Her grin matches his as she nods her approval of his plan. "They're even more formidable than I, truth be told, but luckily, they've always quite liked you."
He'd made an impression on them all those years ago, and their various meetings since had done little to sway the positive memory of the young Jedi who had helped liberate their planet. There had actually been quite a few choice comments when she'd given them the news of this marriage, comments that she would not be repeating to Obi-Wan. Not yet, anyway.
He'd made an impression on them all those years ago, and their various meetings since had done little to sway the positive memory of the young Jedi who had helped liberate their planet. There had actually been quite a few choice comments when she'd given them the news of this marriage, comments that she would not be repeating to Obi-Wan. Not yet, anyway.
"Oh, dear heavens." His dry wit is in fine form now, as he pretends to consider the ramifications of what she's saying. "If they're that formidable, what could you possibly need me for?"
Not wanting to drag the conversation down with the serious answer she might give, he holds up a hand. "No, don't tell me. You wished to keep me from wasting away in bachelorhood, and decided to save me."
Not wanting to drag the conversation down with the serious answer she might give, he holds up a hand. "No, don't tell me. You wished to keep me from wasting away in bachelorhood, and decided to save me."
It's good that he moved along the conversation, because her answer would have been quite serious, and she's not yet ready to talk about her handmaiden who had been killed recently. Her friend who had died when the attacker had been after Padmé herself.
"Yes, that's it exactly," she confirms with solemnity, leaning against the stone railing of the balcony. "All of this has been entirely for your benefit."
"Yes, that's it exactly," she confirms with solemnity, leaning against the stone railing of the balcony. "All of this has been entirely for your benefit."
His nod is one of grave understanding and gratitude. "Thank you then, milady, for saving me from myself. To think, I would have continued my days, meditating, trying to teach patience to the perpetually-impatient, and amassing knowledge and wisdom such that I would rival the greatest Jedi Masters. Truly, it's a horrible fate, and I am in your debt for rescuing me."
It is now that Obi-Wan is struck with the thought he's been unable to capture, that niggling doubt and worry he's been suppressing since arriving here, alone with Padmé. Now that he is relaxed and enjoying her company, it is as clear as the lake they're overlooking.
The thought is this:
He could easily find himself falling in love with her.
After all, this conversation proves just how easily they can get along as friends, how well they enjoy each other's company. He isn't sure if it's a true premonition through the Force, or merely his trained talent for seeing patterns and outcomes, but he can see it happening easily, as smooth as glass.
And he can't let it.
Padmé has a long career as a senator ahead of her, and Obi-Wan is her protector. More, he is a Jedi Knight: despite being assigned to one person for the rest of her life, he cannot allow his emotions to cloud his judgment. Friendship is one thing, but love, a real relationship, even if she were amenable, goes against everything he's been taught.
Obi-Wan's smile slips slightly, but he turns to lean on the railing beside her, looking out over the horizon, hoping she will assume his mind has simply wandered to something else.
The truth is, currently he's not sure he could think of anything other than her.
It is the opposite of what he needs to be contemplating.
It is now that Obi-Wan is struck with the thought he's been unable to capture, that niggling doubt and worry he's been suppressing since arriving here, alone with Padmé. Now that he is relaxed and enjoying her company, it is as clear as the lake they're overlooking.
The thought is this:
He could easily find himself falling in love with her.
After all, this conversation proves just how easily they can get along as friends, how well they enjoy each other's company. He isn't sure if it's a true premonition through the Force, or merely his trained talent for seeing patterns and outcomes, but he can see it happening easily, as smooth as glass.
And he can't let it.
Padmé has a long career as a senator ahead of her, and Obi-Wan is her protector. More, he is a Jedi Knight: despite being assigned to one person for the rest of her life, he cannot allow his emotions to cloud his judgment. Friendship is one thing, but love, a real relationship, even if she were amenable, goes against everything he's been taught.
Obi-Wan's smile slips slightly, but he turns to lean on the railing beside her, looking out over the horizon, hoping she will assume his mind has simply wandered to something else.
The truth is, currently he's not sure he could think of anything other than her.
It is the opposite of what he needs to be contemplating.
It's only the levity of the conversation as a whole that keeps her from apologizing. While the life he describes is one that she would never understand, she knows it is the way of Jedi and she has taken him from it. Some of it will continue as expected, but so much of his life will be different from now on - he'll forever be tied to her career and where that takes her. This arrangement is meant to be until one of them passes, but-- Well, it's not unheard of for divorce to happen in these marriages, should circumstances change. She makes a mental note to discuss that with him later, to make certain that he understands that despite the agreement the Council made for him, she would never hold him if he wanted to go.
She cares far too much about him to ever do that.
Watching him for a moment, taking in the way he looks out at the water, she does assume that his thoughts have strayed. "I think I'll leave you for now and unpack my things," she announces easily, turning back to the glass doors. "And it will be dinnertime soon -- do you have any special requests?"
She cares far too much about him to ever do that.
Watching him for a moment, taking in the way he looks out at the water, she does assume that his thoughts have strayed. "I think I'll leave you for now and unpack my things," she announces easily, turning back to the glass doors. "And it will be dinnertime soon -- do you have any special requests?"
Startled at her sudden retreat, he looks at her with slightly wide eyes. Even if she speaks casually, even if she doesn't suspect where his thoughts lie, there are no coincidences. He feels poorly for being the reason they're no longer sharing easy conversation and banter. "Padmé--"
What will he say to her? What can he say to her, that won't ruin this moment even more than his sudden epiphany already has?
Obi-Wan shakes his head. "No. No special requests. I have an adventurous palate and strong stomach," he jokes, giving her a smile that, while not as happy as before, is just as sincere.
If he can keep this, he could be happy. This, and nothing more, and he would still be happy.
It's a thin ledge, but he will try to walk it.
What will he say to her? What can he say to her, that won't ruin this moment even more than his sudden epiphany already has?
Obi-Wan shakes his head. "No. No special requests. I have an adventurous palate and strong stomach," he jokes, giving her a smile that, while not as happy as before, is just as sincere.
If he can keep this, he could be happy. This, and nothing more, and he would still be happy.
It's a thin ledge, but he will try to walk it.
The way he says her name -- it's as if he thinks he's done something, or that she's leaving for reasons that aren't true. It only lasts a moment before his joking returns, but that moment tugs at her heart and she wants to chase that feeling away from them both.
"Well, don't worry, I'll try not to test the strength of your stomach tonight," she assures him, reaching out to take his hand in her own just long enough to give it a gentle squeeze before letting go. "We can save that for tomorrow."
The smile she flashes him is bright and full of promise of more to come. "You can stay here if you like, or go wherever you please. This is our home for the next week, nothing is off-limits." And she meant it - he is her husband now, her protector, and he has free reign of the spaces they now share.
"Well, don't worry, I'll try not to test the strength of your stomach tonight," she assures him, reaching out to take his hand in her own just long enough to give it a gentle squeeze before letting go. "We can save that for tomorrow."
The smile she flashes him is bright and full of promise of more to come. "You can stay here if you like, or go wherever you please. This is our home for the next week, nothing is off-limits." And she meant it - he is her husband now, her protector, and he has free reign of the spaces they now share.
His smile widens affectionately at her teasing, but her reassurance makes him feel once again awkward in the situation.
"I'll probably go down to the lake and sit for a while." He glances back over the balcony. "It really is beautiful here."
Meditating, it seems, will continue to be a large staple of his life, for the foreseeable future. At least here, he can let his senses spread out and encounter nothing but wilderness and nature, and Padmé.
Maybe he'll practice focusing his Force-sense directionally. He could probably use the extra training.
"I'll probably go down to the lake and sit for a while." He glances back over the balcony. "It really is beautiful here."
Meditating, it seems, will continue to be a large staple of his life, for the foreseeable future. At least here, he can let his senses spread out and encounter nothing but wilderness and nature, and Padmé.
Maybe he'll practice focusing his Force-sense directionally. He could probably use the extra training.
"It really is," she echoes, following his gaze for a moment and almost wishing they could stay here forever. Almost. They both have work to do out in the galaxy though, so for now this will just have to be what it is -- a brief vacation from their responsibilities and nothing more.
"I'll see you in a few hours, Obi-Wan." And with that, she departs, moving easily through the house that she knows so well. Of course, it's really more than just a 'house', but it's home as much as her parents' estate in Theed, and so to her it is just a house. Her room is on an upper floor that she'd already shown to Obi-Wan when they'd dropped off their luggage (not that he had much of it at all), the room beside it designated as his own for the week.
It doesn't take long at all to unpack, the dresses hung in the wardrobe and other items placed in the drawers, and then she heads back downstairs to the kitchens to prepare their dinner. The fresh vegetables from a nearby farmer wait on the center prep table and she gets right to it, falling into the serene space of working with her hands.
"I'll see you in a few hours, Obi-Wan." And with that, she departs, moving easily through the house that she knows so well. Of course, it's really more than just a 'house', but it's home as much as her parents' estate in Theed, and so to her it is just a house. Her room is on an upper floor that she'd already shown to Obi-Wan when they'd dropped off their luggage (not that he had much of it at all), the room beside it designated as his own for the week.
It doesn't take long at all to unpack, the dresses hung in the wardrobe and other items placed in the drawers, and then she heads back downstairs to the kitchens to prepare their dinner. The fresh vegetables from a nearby farmer wait on the center prep table and she gets right to it, falling into the serene space of working with her hands.
Another mission completed, another bit of downtime granted to Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi and his apprentice, Anakin Skywalker.
Anakin, as always, wanted to go visit Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, out of Senate for the season and back on Naboo. Obi-Wan really should have curtailed the frequency of the boy's visits to the Chancellor. Not that Palpatine seemed bothered by them; he seemed charmed by the boy, as much as a jaded politician could be, and Anakin had always been whip-smart and precocious, enjoying the company of adults and conversing with them. Obi-Wan just didn't have the heart to keep Anakin away from the one pseudo-friend he seemed to have.
Obi-Wan should have stopped the visit, but instead he'd agreed, letting Anakin stay in their rooms on Naboo, while he visited a nearby planet, trying - half-heartedly - to entice Anakin to join him, speaking of the natural waterfalls that changed hues as they fell, the lush gardenscapes of the local resorts on-planet. Anakin, as was typical, had no interest in nature, and waved him off with a wrinkle of his nose and a joking "have fun, old man Kenobi." To which Obi-Wan had responded "That's Master Old Man Kenobi to you, my young Padawan!"
It was night now, and the ethereal light that constantly played off the cascading waters reflects off the walls of the hotel room. Leaning forward on the bed, he presses a kiss to the naked shoulder beside him.
"We're missing quite the show," he murmurs. "Again."
Anakin, as always, wanted to go visit Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, out of Senate for the season and back on Naboo. Obi-Wan really should have curtailed the frequency of the boy's visits to the Chancellor. Not that Palpatine seemed bothered by them; he seemed charmed by the boy, as much as a jaded politician could be, and Anakin had always been whip-smart and precocious, enjoying the company of adults and conversing with them. Obi-Wan just didn't have the heart to keep Anakin away from the one pseudo-friend he seemed to have.
Obi-Wan should have stopped the visit, but instead he'd agreed, letting Anakin stay in their rooms on Naboo, while he visited a nearby planet, trying - half-heartedly - to entice Anakin to join him, speaking of the natural waterfalls that changed hues as they fell, the lush gardenscapes of the local resorts on-planet. Anakin, as was typical, had no interest in nature, and waved him off with a wrinkle of his nose and a joking "have fun, old man Kenobi." To which Obi-Wan had responded "That's Master Old Man Kenobi to you, my young Padawan!"
It was night now, and the ethereal light that constantly played off the cascading waters reflects off the walls of the hotel room. Leaning forward on the bed, he presses a kiss to the naked shoulder beside him.
"We're missing quite the show," he murmurs. "Again."
Thank goodness Anakin never accepted the invitation, or this little vacation would be proceeding quite differently. Padmé had welcomed the regular break from Senate meetings, the list of committees she was now seated on having grown immensely in the past few months, and it had been easy to disguise her visit to the resort planet as one for pure rest and relaxation after a stressful political season. Only Cordé knew the truth, her one confidant in her entire entourage, and the person who helped her keep these rendezvous from being noticed by the wrong people.
"Somehow, I can't quite bring myself to care," she returns softly, turning to face the man beside her with a contented sigh. She hasn't felt this relaxed and at peace in weeks, everything warm and soft -- just like his beard. Lifting a hand, she trails her fingers along those auburn whiskers that tickled her skin in the best way. "Do you?"
"Somehow, I can't quite bring myself to care," she returns softly, turning to face the man beside her with a contented sigh. She hasn't felt this relaxed and at peace in weeks, everything warm and soft -- just like his beard. Lifting a hand, she trails her fingers along those auburn whiskers that tickled her skin in the best way. "Do you?"
Obi-Wan takes just a few moments longer to gaze out at the lake and grounds, allowing Padmé time to make her way through the manor. He once again finds himself admiring the house as he walks leisurely through it, hands tucked into the sleeves of his robes.
He means to head out to the lake, or the garden on the side of the house, but instead finds himself standing just outside the kitchen opening, watching Padmé confidently prepare dinner. In moments like this, she's far away from the former Queen of Naboo, or even the current Senator for the planet; and yet she still bears that competence he sees in her frequently. It's something he's admired in her whenever their paths cross.
When he finds himself wondering if love is really such a detrimental emotion to feel for another person, he decides it's high time he start the meditation he told her he'd be doing, and heads out and toward the lake. He settles into the familiar position, and just the act of sitting this particular way has his mind calming down and his thoughts quietening. He soon finds himself in that space between lost and hyper-aware, his physical senses ignored while he lets himself feel his surroundings through the Force.
Fish, plants and all manner of creatures in the lake; birds, insects, reptiles and amphibians along the banks and in the flora surrounding the house; Padmé in the kitchen, a calm well of drifting thoughts and steady emotions. Even the manor itself has echoes of life surrounding it, a testament to the personalities that have inhabited it over the years. He likes the fact that the house feels warm, owing to the love and happiness that's dwelt there.
Time passes, but Obi-Wan takes no note of it.
He means to head out to the lake, or the garden on the side of the house, but instead finds himself standing just outside the kitchen opening, watching Padmé confidently prepare dinner. In moments like this, she's far away from the former Queen of Naboo, or even the current Senator for the planet; and yet she still bears that competence he sees in her frequently. It's something he's admired in her whenever their paths cross.
When he finds himself wondering if love is really such a detrimental emotion to feel for another person, he decides it's high time he start the meditation he told her he'd be doing, and heads out and toward the lake. He settles into the familiar position, and just the act of sitting this particular way has his mind calming down and his thoughts quietening. He soon finds himself in that space between lost and hyper-aware, his physical senses ignored while he lets himself feel his surroundings through the Force.
Fish, plants and all manner of creatures in the lake; birds, insects, reptiles and amphibians along the banks and in the flora surrounding the house; Padmé in the kitchen, a calm well of drifting thoughts and steady emotions. Even the manor itself has echoes of life surrounding it, a testament to the personalities that have inhabited it over the years. He likes the fact that the house feels warm, owing to the love and happiness that's dwelt there.
Time passes, but Obi-Wan takes no note of it.
Anakin never has, and probably never will, accept Obi-Wan's invitations to whichever 'relaxing and rejuvenating spectacle' the Jedi Knight says he's visiting after a mission; unfortunately, Anakin still isn't very adept at picking up nuanced emotions through the Force. He might be able to feel Obi-Wan's surprise, but the disappointment at the sudden change in plans would be quickly hidden and never noticed by his apprentice.
Now, Obi-Wan's thoughts are focused on the woman laying beside him, his eyes drawn to hers. He gently catches her hand as she finishes stroking his beard, drawing it up to kiss her fingertips. "I can't imagine anything more beautiful than what I see right before me," he murmurs.
Now, Obi-Wan's thoughts are focused on the woman laying beside him, his eyes drawn to hers. He gently catches her hand as she finishes stroking his beard, drawing it up to kiss her fingertips. "I can't imagine anything more beautiful than what I see right before me," he murmurs.
Not once in the course of his observation does Padmé notice Obi-Wan's presence, her focus so intent on the precisely chopping the vegetables and mixing the dough for the bread. Her hands covered in flour, the workspace more of a mess than it really should be, the process is its own form of meditation, her thoughts calming as time slowly passes.
It's only when both bread and stew are in the ovens that her mind begins to wander again, everything circling back to her present situation with a certain Jedi, no matter where her thoughts had started. Politics, personal relationships, each path led to Obi-Wan Kenobi -- what they are, what they could be, what all of this will mean for the both of them. This isn't the first time she's thought over any of these things, but now that they've spent more time together...
She does care for the Jedi, and can easily see them becoming close friends in this new life together. Hopefully that's something that he wants, something that will be of benefit to his life rather than a detriment. She says a small prayer to the gods she'd learned of as a child that this never becomes something he regrets.
The timer goes off for the bread first, then the stew not long after, and she leaves the both of them cooling on the stove to find her errant Knight, taking the path off the back of the kitchen down to the lakefront.
It's only when both bread and stew are in the ovens that her mind begins to wander again, everything circling back to her present situation with a certain Jedi, no matter where her thoughts had started. Politics, personal relationships, each path led to Obi-Wan Kenobi -- what they are, what they could be, what all of this will mean for the both of them. This isn't the first time she's thought over any of these things, but now that they've spent more time together...
She does care for the Jedi, and can easily see them becoming close friends in this new life together. Hopefully that's something that he wants, something that will be of benefit to his life rather than a detriment. She says a small prayer to the gods she'd learned of as a child that this never becomes something he regrets.
The timer goes off for the bread first, then the stew not long after, and she leaves the both of them cooling on the stove to find her errant Knight, taking the path off the back of the kitchen down to the lakefront.
The way he looks at her never fails to take her breath away. She could be on the opposite side of the room, arguing about trade regulations and taxation rates, and all he'd have to do is glance her way to leave her heart fluttering. His honeyed words are nothing comparing to the power of his gaze, and yet she still delights in hearing them.
"You know, I have a dozen people a day remarking on my beauty for one reason or another, but it's only when you say it that it means anything." Those dozen people try to curry her favor for whatever bill or project they're working toward, while others flatter to get on the good side of a politician. Occasionally there's even the unexpected attempt at getting into her bed -- and there's a very good reason why he's the only one to succeed in that regard.
"You know, I have a dozen people a day remarking on my beauty for one reason or another, but it's only when you say it that it means anything." Those dozen people try to curry her favor for whatever bill or project they're working toward, while others flatter to get on the good side of a politician. Occasionally there's even the unexpected attempt at getting into her bed -- and there's a very good reason why he's the only one to succeed in that regard.
As the time passes, unnoticed by the Jedi, Obi-Wan allows his thoughts to peacefully drift, inspecting each as it floats through his head, but leaving them mostly uncensored. He's long since learned how to deal with even dark, negative thoughts constructively. (Something he wishes he knew how to teach his apprentice.)
Now, his thoughts circle around friendship, the bonds formed between individuals and how emotions can enhance or detract from his duty. How his duty has shifted significantly, but not actually changed: he's still charged with protection of those around him, but now he must center that protection on one individual before others. If, for example, Padmé and the Chancellor are together when there's an attack, Obi-Wan's duty is now to protect Padmé first, despite the Chancellor being of higher rank and influence politically. It's not so different than before, but even just putting her above others inherently means that he will be focused more on her at all times, and that's before factoring in that they will be living and traveling together all the time, constantly influencing each other's actions and thoughts.
There is nothing he can do to prevent his feelings for her from growing, and if he tries to stop them, it will very likely lead to frustration and anger, perhaps even resentment toward the Council or Padmé herself. It's the antithesis to all he was taught, but he was also taught never to hold one life above another, for all life is sacred and a part of the Force. But the fact that they have a week alone together tells him growing a bond is expected. So he will take this time, learn to relax and get used to being, if not in the same place, at least constantly by the same person's side. When he has the chance, he will speak with Master Yoda and ask for his counsel.
Becoming aware of changes in the environment, he senses Padmé moving toward him. He slowly comes back to himself, and notices more time has passed than he expected; his body begins registering that he's hungry, and while he's used to discomfort, his backside isn't entirely pleased to have been sitting lotus-style on the hard ground for so long. Obi-Wan stands and brushes off his robes as Padmé draws near, looking toward her and smiling peacefully in greeting.
Now, his thoughts circle around friendship, the bonds formed between individuals and how emotions can enhance or detract from his duty. How his duty has shifted significantly, but not actually changed: he's still charged with protection of those around him, but now he must center that protection on one individual before others. If, for example, Padmé and the Chancellor are together when there's an attack, Obi-Wan's duty is now to protect Padmé first, despite the Chancellor being of higher rank and influence politically. It's not so different than before, but even just putting her above others inherently means that he will be focused more on her at all times, and that's before factoring in that they will be living and traveling together all the time, constantly influencing each other's actions and thoughts.
There is nothing he can do to prevent his feelings for her from growing, and if he tries to stop them, it will very likely lead to frustration and anger, perhaps even resentment toward the Council or Padmé herself. It's the antithesis to all he was taught, but he was also taught never to hold one life above another, for all life is sacred and a part of the Force. But the fact that they have a week alone together tells him growing a bond is expected. So he will take this time, learn to relax and get used to being, if not in the same place, at least constantly by the same person's side. When he has the chance, he will speak with Master Yoda and ask for his counsel.
Becoming aware of changes in the environment, he senses Padmé moving toward him. He slowly comes back to himself, and notices more time has passed than he expected; his body begins registering that he's hungry, and while he's used to discomfort, his backside isn't entirely pleased to have been sitting lotus-style on the hard ground for so long. Obi-Wan stands and brushes off his robes as Padmé draws near, looking toward her and smiling peacefully in greeting.
"I am honored that you hold the words of a humble Jedi in such high regards," he says seriously - and he means it, although there's also an undercurrent of affectionate teasing in his voice. His hand skims down her wrist and arm, before stopping at the bend of her elbow, fingers lightly caressing the crease and up her forearm. "My queen," he intones, using the private nickname he gave her shortly after they started this affair, over two years ago.
It's dangerous, what they're doing; it could irrevocably harm Padmé's political career, and get Obi-Wan expelled from the Order if their feelings for each other are learned. He understands the reasoning, because a Jedi isn't supposed to put any one person above the others, should have a clear head in both battle and politics...
But he can't help himself. Doesn't want to help himself, especially when they're together like this, sharing a quiet, intimate moment. He's in love with her, and it makes his days brighter, even when they're apart, just knowing that she's out there.
It's dangerous, what they're doing; it could irrevocably harm Padmé's political career, and get Obi-Wan expelled from the Order if their feelings for each other are learned. He understands the reasoning, because a Jedi isn't supposed to put any one person above the others, should have a clear head in both battle and politics...
But he can't help himself. Doesn't want to help himself, especially when they're together like this, sharing a quiet, intimate moment. He's in love with her, and it makes his days brighter, even when they're apart, just knowing that she's out there.
“Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings.”Four months ago, the universe changed and Padmé Amidala lost everything she loved.
Her husband, her children, her home. Friends, family. Hope. 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 and Coruscant, from anything that reminded her of what she'd lost...
Everything reminded her. Each morning when she woke alone in the small bed rolled out upon the worn stone floor. When she walked the hour to the nearby village and saw the mothers carrying children while they worked. When she returned home from a long day of work to continue toiling by firelight. When she cried herself to sleep and prayed to the gods of Naboo that her children were safe. Each day that passed was like a thousand.
Each day that passed was harder than the last, and all that kept her going was a singular thought, a possibility that may never take shape: One day, her children might need her.
It hadn't been especially difficult to set Padmé up on a planet not far from Tatooine, where he could visit her if needed, keep an eye on her without her knowing how close she was to one of her children. The Outer Rim planets wanted nothing to do with the Republic, now the new Empire; for the most part the inhabitants kept their heads down and kept to themselves. Establishing the former senator as yet another refugee wanting anonymity hadn't taken much.
Obi-Wan hated to deceive her, letting her think her children were both so far away. But all these years of knowing her, he knew if she was aware of how close Luke was, she wouldn't be able to stay away. No matter how much she understood the risk, she wouldn't be able to help herself.
He understood that urge, because he had a hard time parting with her when he returned to Tatooine. She was broken, and he didn't know if time could heal her. He wasn't sure if time could heal himself, come to that. Anakin's betrayal had done so much damage to the lives of all those he cared about, those he proclaimed he wanted to protect at all costs.
There were days - many, many days - where he didn't leave his small hut in the desert. (He didn't know it, but already rumors were starting about the "hermit" who now lived in the wilderness outside of Mos Eisley.) He put away his lightsaber; buried it at the bottom of a chest of clothes and other sundry items that no one would think to dig through. A remnant from a life he had to put behind him.
But he could not abandon the Force. It still flowed through him, and slowly, he began to reconnect with it. At first, he had tried shielding himself from everything; tried turning his back on it. What had the Force ever done but bring death, and betrayal? No being should have access to that kind of power, for it only bred greed for more. Once arrogant and self-confident, Obi-Wan was a Jedi now broken, disillusioned.
But slowly, his grief lifted enough that he could again begin to see patterns, the past and present merging and weaving together to show what had happened.
He began meditating again. His grief was still strong, but other emotions began to take root. One word began to get echoed in his thoughts, and he clung to it.
Patience.
Years would unfold before anything could happen. He could do nothing but wait. Wait, and prepare himself mentally, and emotionally. He had time. That was all he had, now.
And then, one night like any other, the Force reached out to him. In a bout of fitful sleep, Obi-Wan had a prescient dream. Padmé, overcome with despair, unable to see past all that had transpired. Pushing her body until it was as broken as her spirit, unable to continue. After waking, he could still feel the echoes of her pain in his own mind and heart, as if they were tethered together by the Force itself.
Dreams, like any other sort of prophecy, were dangerous to try to fulfill, or subvert. In trying to do so, one could easily enable the very outcome they had been trying to avoid.
But Obi-Wan simply couldn't sit by and do nothing.
Packing a few spare clothes, he headed back to the planet he'd left Padmé on, intent to check on her, and help in any way that he could.
He arrived back on the planet five months after he had left, the current climate now nearing winter. It was late when he arrived where she now resided; such a meager, humble place, especially compared to the places he knew she'd been raised on Naboo. He knew she could live, could thrive anywhere, but it still hurt him to know this was how she was now forced to live.
Padmé deserved so much better. In all things. But they could not afford the scrutiny a better lifestyle would bring.
Stepping forward, Obi-Wan knocked on the door.
Obi-Wan hated to deceive her, letting her think her children were both so far away. But all these years of knowing her, he knew if she was aware of how close Luke was, she wouldn't be able to stay away. No matter how much she understood the risk, she wouldn't be able to help herself.
He understood that urge, because he had a hard time parting with her when he returned to Tatooine. She was broken, and he didn't know if time could heal her. He wasn't sure if time could heal himself, come to that. Anakin's betrayal had done so much damage to the lives of all those he cared about, those he proclaimed he wanted to protect at all costs.
There were days - many, many days - where he didn't leave his small hut in the desert. (He didn't know it, but already rumors were starting about the "hermit" who now lived in the wilderness outside of Mos Eisley.) He put away his lightsaber; buried it at the bottom of a chest of clothes and other sundry items that no one would think to dig through. A remnant from a life he had to put behind him.
But he could not abandon the Force. It still flowed through him, and slowly, he began to reconnect with it. At first, he had tried shielding himself from everything; tried turning his back on it. What had the Force ever done but bring death, and betrayal? No being should have access to that kind of power, for it only bred greed for more. Once arrogant and self-confident, Obi-Wan was a Jedi now broken, disillusioned.
But slowly, his grief lifted enough that he could again begin to see patterns, the past and present merging and weaving together to show what had happened.
He began meditating again. His grief was still strong, but other emotions began to take root. One word began to get echoed in his thoughts, and he clung to it.
Patience.
Years would unfold before anything could happen. He could do nothing but wait. Wait, and prepare himself mentally, and emotionally. He had time. That was all he had, now.
And then, one night like any other, the Force reached out to him. In a bout of fitful sleep, Obi-Wan had a prescient dream. Padmé, overcome with despair, unable to see past all that had transpired. Pushing her body until it was as broken as her spirit, unable to continue. After waking, he could still feel the echoes of her pain in his own mind and heart, as if they were tethered together by the Force itself.
Dreams, like any other sort of prophecy, were dangerous to try to fulfill, or subvert. In trying to do so, one could easily enable the very outcome they had been trying to avoid.
But Obi-Wan simply couldn't sit by and do nothing.
Packing a few spare clothes, he headed back to the planet he'd left Padmé on, intent to check on her, and help in any way that he could.
He arrived back on the planet five months after he had left, the current climate now nearing winter. It was late when he arrived where she now resided; such a meager, humble place, especially compared to the places he knew she'd been raised on Naboo. He knew she could live, could thrive anywhere, but it still hurt him to know this was how she was now forced to live.
Padmé deserved so much better. In all things. But they could not afford the scrutiny a better lifestyle would bring.
Stepping forward, Obi-Wan knocked on the door.
With the days growing colder, a fire at night was necessary, the stone walls of the tiny house doing little to keep out the chill. It was strange to think some days that she could find a datastream of all the latest news of the galaxy in the city half a day's walk away, digital gambling halls and holodrama theaters, but here in her 'home' and the nearby village, they were lucky to have running water. There were no droids to help with the daily work, there was not regular trade with nearby planets, and even the criminal syndicates seem to have left much of the planet untouched save for the larger cities. Her life was now so different from everything she'd known that some days it easier that way.
And there were days when it wasn't. The local language was difficult to understand without a translator, though she tried her best to learn more of it each day. She missed having someone to talk to, every word she spoke now little more than an outright lie. No one here knew who she was, what she had been through, and while of course it was better that way, it still wore away at her.
She had no connections here, no friends and no neighbors near enough to matter, so when she knock came at her door-- The knife was in her hand in seconds, instinct propelling her from her seat by the fire to the small kitchen, thin fingers stiff from sewing wrapping around the thick handle with determination. That same emotion propelled her forward, swinging the door open with the knife held just out of view.
And then she stilled, everything in her going quiet at the sight of the man on the other side of that door. The man who had left her here, who had taken her children to safety, who she wasn't sure she would ever seen again. There was a part of her that wanted to rage, to demand that he take her from this place, take her to her children so she could have some part of her soul back, but those emotions wilt before they come to anything real. She's too tired to make those rash decisions, to be angry at what has become of her life or happy to see the only friend who knows of her existence. She's too tired to be anything but the broken woman she is, and so she simply steps back from the doorway to let him inside, knife now hanging uselessly at her side.
And there were days when it wasn't. The local language was difficult to understand without a translator, though she tried her best to learn more of it each day. She missed having someone to talk to, every word she spoke now little more than an outright lie. No one here knew who she was, what she had been through, and while of course it was better that way, it still wore away at her.
She had no connections here, no friends and no neighbors near enough to matter, so when she knock came at her door-- The knife was in her hand in seconds, instinct propelling her from her seat by the fire to the small kitchen, thin fingers stiff from sewing wrapping around the thick handle with determination. That same emotion propelled her forward, swinging the door open with the knife held just out of view.
And then she stilled, everything in her going quiet at the sight of the man on the other side of that door. The man who had left her here, who had taken her children to safety, who she wasn't sure she would ever seen again. There was a part of her that wanted to rage, to demand that he take her from this place, take her to her children so she could have some part of her soul back, but those emotions wilt before they come to anything real. She's too tired to make those rash decisions, to be angry at what has become of her life or happy to see the only friend who knows of her existence. She's too tired to be anything but the broken woman she is, and so she simply steps back from the doorway to let him inside, knife now hanging uselessly at her side.
Her emotions are easy to sense, partly due to the fact that his own mirror them; they are both angry at him for the measures he's been forced to take, to keep everyone safe. But he also feels when they slip away, leaving a disturbing absence in their wake. For a moment, Obi-Wan fears he's come too late. That Padmé has given up, but simply hasn't realized it yet.
He sees the knife as he cautiously enters, and it actually helps ease his mind. If she is still willing to fight to defend herself, hope isn't lost.
"I'm sorry," he murmurs, keeping his head bowed, eyes cast downward. Let her take his apology however she likes - he is sorry for his part in all of it. For Anakin. For hurting her. For forcing her into this existence. For showing up on her doorstep, a reminder of the life she used to live.
But she is all he has left of that life, as well. When her children are grown, they will have no knowledge of what came before them. They will not share any of the memories of the better times. Betrayal and heartbreak has occurred, but he has begun to remember other pieces of his life, and he clings to them.
He just hopes Padmé can see past the darkness, and remember it as well. He wants her to have hope.
He sees the knife as he cautiously enters, and it actually helps ease his mind. If she is still willing to fight to defend herself, hope isn't lost.
"I'm sorry," he murmurs, keeping his head bowed, eyes cast downward. Let her take his apology however she likes - he is sorry for his part in all of it. For Anakin. For hurting her. For forcing her into this existence. For showing up on her doorstep, a reminder of the life she used to live.
But she is all he has left of that life, as well. When her children are grown, they will have no knowledge of what came before them. They will not share any of the memories of the better times. Betrayal and heartbreak has occurred, but he has begun to remember other pieces of his life, and he clings to them.
He just hopes Padmé can see past the darkness, and remember it as well. He wants her to have hope.
Her actions with the knife would have depended entirely on who stood on the other side of the door. Were it a thief in the night or a soldier come to take her away, perhaps she would have fought to protect herself. If it had been Anakin... Perhaps instinct would have led her down a very different path. But it had been Obi-Wan there, Obi-Wan who now enters the small house the size of her bedroom on Coruscant, and so she steps back into the kitchen and returns the knife to its place, her free hand clutching at the knit shawl around her shoulders, her shortened hair tucked beneath it.
"I'll make you something warm to drink," she tells him in a quiet voice sounding as tired as she feels. "It's nearly winter here." The air is crisp outside and there is frost on the windows of the kitchen, the warmth of the fire not quite reaching the glass -- she hadn't been able to build it as much tonight, her stock of firewood getting low.
Her basket of sewing is sat beside one of the two chairs by the fire, the bedroll still tied and propped against the wall. She intends a few hours more of work before giving in to exhaustion.
"I'll make you something warm to drink," she tells him in a quiet voice sounding as tired as she feels. "It's nearly winter here." The air is crisp outside and there is frost on the windows of the kitchen, the warmth of the fire not quite reaching the glass -- she hadn't been able to build it as much tonight, her stock of firewood getting low.
Her basket of sewing is sat beside one of the two chairs by the fire, the bedroll still tied and propped against the wall. She intends a few hours more of work before giving in to exhaustion.
He's circumspect in watching her, not wanting her to realize how intently he does so. He wishes he knew how to heal her, how to fix this. It seems everything he's done only makes things worse.
Patience.
If it takes years, if it takes a lifetime, he determines that he will help Padmé heal and become strong again.
"Please, don't trouble yourself," he says quietly. "I came uninvited, and unannounced." He won't tell her that the cold affects him more than even he had expected, after so many months in the desert of Tatooine. He will survive it.
He looks around the home, noticing the traces hinting at Padmé's current life. Work set out still, despite the lateness of the hour, the sparseness of her surroundings.
Patience.
If it takes years, if it takes a lifetime, he determines that he will help Padmé heal and become strong again.
"Please, don't trouble yourself," he says quietly. "I came uninvited, and unannounced." He won't tell her that the cold affects him more than even he had expected, after so many months in the desert of Tatooine. He will survive it.
He looks around the home, noticing the traces hinting at Padmé's current life. Work set out still, despite the lateness of the hour, the sparseness of her surroundings.
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