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He intercepts the second dish before she can place it for him. She has cooked the meal, he doesn't want her waiting on him as well; he's her husband now, not her guest.

"Well, that is fortunate." He stays standing until Padmé sits herself. "What do you usually cook? From the looks of this meal, I'd wager you enjoy it, and so probably do it when you get the chance." He wonders how often she's gotten the chance, being elected Queen at a young age, and becoming Senator after that.

It's automatic for her to take charge of any situation, so it takes a moment for her to relinquish that position and simply have a seat. He isn't a guest, but he could have easily expected these roles to be upheld despite their respective statuses - it's reassuring that he doesn't. Those backwards ideas of the roles of men and women that she's seen on various planets have never sat well with her.

"I do enjoy it," she confirms, spreading a cloth napkin out over her lap in proper fashion. "I always helped in the kitchen when I was little, and while I haven't had much time to spend there over the last few years, I still take advantage of every opportunity that presents itself, especially when I'm at my family's home." Her home no longer, she reminds herself; they will have to secure their own apartment in Theed now, she couldn't ask him to stay with her family whenever they're on the planet.

"Stews are easy, and often found in traditional Naboo cuisine. I also enjoy making savory pastries, and bread." A fond smile blooms into existence as she picks up the still-warm loaf and tears off an end, the crisp crust giving way to expose the fluffy interior. "I love baking bread. I've found it's very good for relieving stress. There were a few months after the Trade invasion that I made a few loaves every day, usually in the middle of the night when I couldn't sleep."

Obi-Wan has been self-reliant in mundane matters for almost the entirety of his life. Children raised at the Temple are not coddled or tended to; they are taught to be able to take care of themselves from a very young age, and slowly given more responsibilities, to help teach them the values of the life they are striving for. While he would never speak out against another's beliefs or culture (unless it was harmful, and even then he would try to be diplomatic), he's always found the inherent sexism in some cultures to be distasteful.

Her comment about baking bread when she's stressed reminds him of an earlier thought he'd had, and while he gathers a serving of stew and breaks off his own piece of bread, he mentions it to her.

"Have you ever tried meditation? It's not just for Jedi, you know," he teases gently. "It's a good way to process stress, and view recent events that might trouble you, in order to find some clarity, or peace of mind. I'd be more than happy to teach you, if you'd like."

She pauses while lifting her fork to spear her first bite of the stewed vegetables, looking a bit sheepish at his question. The story that comes to mind is one she'd thought of earlier as well, when she'd come upon him meditating, but it's only now that he's asked that she decides to share it.

"I did once have it suggested to me by another senator's aide in a quite... disrespectful manner," she explains. "I may have responded in an equally unprofessional tone and haven't considered it since. But perhaps with the right teacher, my opinion would change."

There is a pause, where he stills as the various scenarios of what she's implying run through his head. It doesn't precisely shock him, because his opinion of politicians has never been particularly high, but he is offended on several fronts, both on principle, and personally on her behalf.

He reminds himself not to jump to conclusions, however. Deliberately, he wipes at his mouth and beard with his napkin, before slowly asking, "Am I to take that... that he made an advance on you?" His distaste is clear in the way he very carefully keeps his face and tone blank, devoid of any emotion.

The way he reacts to her tale, even vague as it is, makes her chest tighten with affection. She knows that Obi-Wan is a good man, that he would disapprove of such things for anyone involved, but that he reacts in such a way when it is her...

"It wasn't the first time, and I'm fairly certain it won't be the last, even with my change in circumstance," she replies, her tone midway between matter-of-fact and reassuring. "It's simply an unfortunate fact of the life I've chosen to live." She decides not to further elaborate on how some politicians do make a habit of trading certain types of 'favors' to get what they want.

Dropping his gaze and pressing his lips into a thin line are the only indications of how upset hearing her speak of it, even obliquely, makes him. He wrestles briefly with his emotions, recognizing them for what they are: anger, jealousy, possessiveness. Not full-blown and destructive, but the seeds are there. He consoles himself that Padmé can take care of herself, as she has just stated she did. He still has the un-Jedi-like urge to punch the aide in the face. Padmé is a good person, and does not deserve to be treated so callously.

Drawing in a measured breath, Obi-Wan slowly says, "While I am well-aware of how well you can take care of yourself, I hope your change in circumstance helps at least to lessen these-- occurrences," his mouth wraps around the word distastefully, "but I also find myself torn between hoping never to be witness to one, and hoping I am. I fear I would have a hard time standing back and allowing you to deal with it yourself, were I around."

It's all he will admit to, and worries that he hasn't divulged too much. He's just admitted to being far more emotionally invested than he had ever expected he would become.

Even those small signs are telling to someone with vast experience in reading others. He has very strong opinions about these experiences she'd had, and while she's not entirely sure of the finer details of those opinions, she has no doubt that he would, in fact, come to her aid in such a situation. She hopes it never comes to that, for both their sakes.

"My knight in Jedi armor," she murmurs with a soft smile before standing and taking the few steps around the table to his side. "Thank you, Obi-Wan." And she leans down to press a kiss to his cheek before intending to retrieve a bottle of wine from the nearby cellar.

Obi-Wan catches her wrist gently before she can move away. "I will do nothing without your approval, my lady," he intones sincerely. "But even if this is a marriage in name only, one made of convenience, I fear I won't tolerate unwanted advances toward you. And that-- is very human, but not very becoming of a Jedi protector."

She stills at the touch to her wrist, then adjusts her hand so that she's holding his, their fingers pressed together with a familiarity that belie the years they've known each other. Those years are something she is extremely grateful for now, when they're already starting to navigate the waters of this new life together.

"But it is very becoming of my husband," she informs him with a tone that will brook no argument. "If ever I feel you've overstepped in your 'protection' of me, I will tell you. Privately. Otherwise I expect you to act as you feel you must."

Acquiescing, Obi-Wan flashes her a soft smile, bending his head to place a kiss to the back of her hand before releasing her. "As you say, milady."

Dinner passes with much lighter conversation while they enjoy the meal together. The evening brings up memories of all the times they've met over the years, catching up on their lives and sharing stories of adventures. It is all those meetings that have her completely at ease with him now as they store the leftovers and set the dishes to wash before heading upstairs.

"I know we've already discussed it, but I just want to reiterate -- you don't have to share a room with me tonight," she says as they reach the bedroom, the last shades of purple in the sky captured beautifully by the wide windows.

Once they let the serious part of the conversation pass, dinner is the same, familiar affair he's used to sharing with Padmé, and Obi-Wan settles into it gratefully. The familiarity is comforting, soothing, and exactly what he needs after the emotional upheavals the rest of the day has brought.

He's honestly forgotten what they'd discussed about sleeping arrangements, until Padmé brings it up. He pauses, drawing a deep breath to help gather and center his thoughts. "If it bothers you, I can use another room. But I have no problem with it, and it will be required of us at some point, so we may wish to become familiar with it now, rather than necessity dictates."

Obi-Wan knows he tends to get formal and polite in his speech when he's nervous or anxious, and has no illusions that Padmé hasn't picked up on that fact over the years. But he is careful to phrase it in such a way to show it doesn't bother him, and is her choice, without bringing his own personal feelings into the equation. Because the whole truth is, no matter what will or won't be happening, tonight or any other, he very much wants to sleep beside her. Wake up next to her, and know that this truly is his life, now.

It's been a long time since she shared a bed with anyone who wasn't one of her handmaidens, which was always for protection or practicality for conserving space while traveling. Having someone beside her like this... Yes, it would be expected of them during some of their travels, and while they had other options for their own apartments, he was right, they should get used to it now while they have the chance.

"Alright," she agrees a nod, stepping into the bedroom and motioning for him to follow. "I can see why you're known for your negotiating skills, my dear Jedi." It doesn't bother her, and so she has no ground on which to argue; it's as simple as that.

Obi-Wan can't help the small, pleased smile that crosses his face at her words. "I appreciate you calling them negotiating skills, and not political," he tells her as he follows her into the bedroom. "If one more person tells me I would make an excellent politician - well, I'll be hard-pressed not to forsake my oaths and do unjust violence upon them."

It's terrible of her, but she can't help but laugh at the picture he paints with those words. Crossing to the wardrobe, she pulls out one of her nightdresses with an amused shake of her head. "Trust me, Obi-Wan, I understand that it's not a life best suited for most," she assures him, her tone becoming more serious as she turns to face him. "Many politicians thrive not on negotiation, but on coercion, on backroom deals and everything that goes against the democracy I believe in. I don't blame you for holding politicians in less than high regard."

He can't help but pause to look at her when she laughs, an answering soft smile flowing over his features; it dims at the change in tone, but his face stays open and fond. This is one of the things he enjoys about Padmé, that she recognizes the inherent problems within her chosen arena, and makes no excuses for it, even acknowledges what others dislike about it, and doesn't hold it against them; against him. "If all politicians were more like you, we would be living in a much better place," he says, his affection coming through clear in his voice.

A little too clear for his liking; he turns toward the bag he'd brought with him that still holds his own clothes. He begins disrobing, until he is down to his under-tunic and leggings.

That affection in his voice makes her chest tighten and her heart beat a little faster, an effect that only increases as he disrobes. Transfixed and frozen in place, she watches for a few moments before quickly turning away to disappear into the large fresher attached to the bedroom. Her dress is hung up in the closet within for cleaning and she pulls on a long deep blue nightgown made of soft folds of fabric, the gown's hem reaching just above the floor and the sleeves above her wrists. Her face is washed of all traces of the bits of makeup from that morning, though since taking the role of Senator she has kept that part of her routine on the simpler side.

With a deep, calming breath, she returns to the bedroom proper, walks barefoot across the room to the vanity set up beside those large windows that lead out onto another balcony, and begins the process of letting down her hair for the night.

Undressing around other people isn't something Obi-Wan usually thinks about, especially when he's not completely disrobing. He is very carefully not thinking about Padmé changing in the fresher. He folds his outer tunic and sash and places them in his bag. He should probably move his clothes to the wardrobe, but it always seems silly to unpack his meager belongings when he's just going to have to put them back, even if it's for a week's time.

When Padmé returns, Obi-Wan watches as she sits at the vanity and begins undoing the intricate hairstyle she wore for the occasion. He hesitates for a moment, but finally takes a step toward her, arms crossed in front of him - it looks less confident than when he has his over-tunic's large sleeves to hide his hands in, and more self-conscious - and asks, "Would you like help with that?"

Taking her hair down may not be an issue for her, although he imagines it required at least one handmaiden to help her put it up.

Once they're more used to each other, Padmé won't think twice about changing around Obi-Wan. She's been under a spotlight for most of her life, constantly needing help dressing thanks to the elaborate costumes she wore as Queen, training with her security in various forms of combat... Her body was just a body and nothing to be self-conscious or insecure about. And yet, there were still a few flutters in her stomach at the thought of being close to Obi-Wan in those moments.

Glancing over her shoulder at the completely unexpected offer, she watches him for a moment, taking in that change in his stance, and then-- "I'd appreciate it very much. Thank you, Obi-Wan." Her smile is bright and sincere, gratitude shining from it as she turns back and instead watches him in the mirror.

There is just the slightest shift in his shoulders as Obi-Wan relaxes at her acceptance, and he easily returns her smile as he strides toward her.

Stopping just behind her seat, he takes a moment to look at the intricate knotting and braids coiled together. He glances at her reflection in the mirror of the vanity and says, "I do hope I'm not required to know how to help put this back together. It would take me longer than one week to learn even one of these styles." He's teasing, sort of; it probably would take him several tries to learn something like this, but he's also aware that this is more reminiscent of her queen's hairstyles, since it was for the wedding, and that typically, while her hair is done elaborately, it's less complicated.

Reaching out, Obi-Wan cautiously begins pulling all-but-hidden pins out from the back, starting at the bottom, so he doesn't accidentally cover any with the newly-released strands.

Having him help let down her hair, becoming a part of her nightly routine, cements how perfectly at ease Padmé is with Obi-Wan. He's assumed a role reserved for those closest to her, and already he fits it well, his fingers deftly uncovering all the pins and ties and sending her hair cascading down her back. Her hair has always had a natural curl to it, and the addition of the braids has only helped the illusion that her hair is much shorter than it really is, hitting shoulder blades instead of waist.

"Would you mind?" she asks him once they've finished undoing all the braids and various layers in the intricate design. She holds up a brush for him, hoping her observation is correct and that having something to do will help him find a sense of peace and belonging here.

The look that involuntarily crosses his face is probably comical in its surprise, but the expression drops quickly, replaced with pleasure as he smiles at her. "Of course, it would be my pleasure."

Accepting the brush, he gathers her hair until only the ends extend from his fist, and he slowly starts brushing, careful to make sure it doesn't tug or tangle. It's a soothing practice, and he enjoys the repetition and concentration it takes as he slowly works the brush higher toward her head.

Having her hair brushed for her has been Padmé's refuge from the stresses of the day, those few minutes lifting the weight from her shoulders and letting her truly relax both physically and mentally. These moments with Obi-Wan are no different, and by the time he's moving the brush over the back of her head, she feels a bit like warm clay.

She sighs deeply and looks at him in the mirror with tiredness hugging her features. "Is your life very structured in the Temple?" she asks quietly, the question perhaps seeming to come out of nowhere. It's concern that has her asking; she wants him to be as happy as he can be in this new life.

His motions with the brush stay fluid and easy, but Obi-Wan inhales deeply, a contemplative look crossing his face as he raises his eyes to some point over her head, considering the question.

"Only by choice," he finally answers. "It was more-so during my days as a Padawan between missions, so I find some comfort in having a routine, but I'm not out-of-sorts when I have to do something else. But typically I rise early, eat and meditate - and then go to kick Anakin out of bed," he says with a chuckle. "Then it becomes somewhat more structured, due to his training. Practicing and discussing different fighting forms and techniques, lunch, and then my time is my own again as he studies. Typically I try to get him to meditate before supper, though that's..." his lips press together in exasperation. "Well, easier said than done, most days."

Like wrangling a small child. Anakin never had to go through the training younglings do, so he's not familiar with calming and centering himself - or at least faking it for the requisite time meditation lasts, as so many of them do. Obi-Wan remembers faking it, but at some point it turned into real meditation, without him noticing. He thinks that's true for a lot of the younglings. There are so many things Anakin has missed out on in his training. And now his teacher will be split between his training, and guarding the Senator.

They'll work something out; Obi-Wan just hopes his student's learning doesn't suffer too much before everything settles again.

Finding himself brushing the same spots with ease, Obi-Wan reluctantly lets Padmé's hair fall from his hand, offering her the brush back. "I imagine you braid it for sleep," he comments, before offering her another smile. "Simple braids are one thing I'm quite familiar with doing. Especially tiny ones." He reaches up to touch behind his ear; his hair has grown much longer and covers the spot, but he still remembers exactly where his Padawan braid had originated.


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

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