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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.

As he's describing the day he usually spends in the Temple, Padmé feels a pang of regret for all that this arrangement is costing him. His life has changed, perhaps not entirely but more than enough to cause him difficulty. Disrupt his routine, force him to develop a new one... She wanted this change to be smooth and painless for him, but it appears that was a ridiculous and utterly naive hope.

Accepting the brush, she sets it on the vanity and turns to the side in her chair, looking up at the spot he indicates where she fondly remembers the braid that had hung there when they'd first met. Anakin is the one who wears it now, and those first days seem so long ago.

"That tiny braid was adorable, but I like your hair now much better. You look quite distinguished when you're not causing trouble," she informs him with a smile belying her own mischievous tendencies.

The days he spends in the Temple are, for better or worse, few and far between, as even now he and Anakin are getting sent on more missions. The death of his own Master left a void in the Jedi roster: instead of gaining a new Knight along with his former teacher, they broke out even, with another Jedi and his Padawan - a Knight who was familiar with the sort of missions Qui-Gon would be sent on. And so Obi-Wan found himself continuing the same work he'd done as an apprentice, scrambling to remember that now he is the teacher, meant to impart wisdom to his student. He isn't sure what that wisdom is supposed to be, but he's trying.

"That 'tiny braid,'" he intones with a smile, "was a sign of great accomplishment. The severing of it, an even greater one."

Reaching up to stroke his beard pretentiously, he ducks down until his head is level with Padmé's, their cheeks almost touching as he looks at himself in the mirror. "I think we make quite the pair." He shifts his gaze to look at her reflection. "Neither of us looks nearly as headstrong and feisty as we are."

Having Obi-Wan that close, she doesn't feel the least bit uncomfortable or nervous, the returning flutters in her chest feeling warm and right. Her Jedi protector, her friend, her companion for the days to come. There is no possible way she would have been anywhere near as at ease with anyone else, and so despite her guilt at the difficulties he'll face, she's so very grateful for having him in her life in this way.

"I have no doubt that will work to our benefit," she pronounces with knowing amusement before smoothly turning her head to press a brief kiss to that whispered cheek. The contact lasts only a second, then she's rising from the chair and pulling her long hair over her shoulder. With practiced motions, she plaits the dark strands loosely, tying off the end and leaving the length curled over that shoulder.

"Which side do you prefer?" It's asked with a nod to the bed, which is more than large enough for the both of them.

Obi-Wan turns his head to face her at the kiss, but she's already moving away. It's probably for the best, because it hadn't been surprise at the gesture that made him move. He's not sure what he would have done if she hadn't turned away; perhaps just shared a look with her. But being so close, he thinks his much-vaunted Jedi control wouldn't have held up, and he would have given her a real kiss. This is twice now that she's kissed his cheek, and he still can't figure out if she's merely being affectionate with a friend, or if her feelings might mirror his. And worse: he has no idea how to go about finding out.

At her question, Obi-Wan glances not at the bed, but the door and windows. "I don't mind either side, but if it's all right with you, I'll take the right." It's the one closer to the door, and even knowing that they're (theoretically) in no danger here, he knows he will sleep safer if he's between her and potential harm.

There's really no telling what she would have done had she stayed in place long enough to allow herself to do anything. Because got a moment there, it hadn't been his cheek she'd intended on kissing, and she isn't sure what she think did that impulse. She's certain she's glad she didn't act on it -- this marriage is one of convenience only, and she's simply lucky enough that they share friendly affection. To put any sort of pressure on Obi-Wan for something he hadn't agreed to and may not want... She'd never be able to forgive herself for it.

"Of course I don't mind." It makes sense that he would worry about intruders coming from within the house, most people would. She, however... Well, that isn't important. They had captured the assassin that same night and there's nothing more to worry about with it. So she smiles pleasantly and moves to the other side of the bed, pulling back the fresh sheets to slip between them.

Truth be told, the windows do give him a bit of hesitation on her side, but short of moving the entire monstrosity of a bed - which he could do, but it seems frivolous to use the Force just to sate his possible paranoia - there's not much he can do, besides stay vigilant. He is by necessity a light sleeper, and has honed his battle senses to recognize unfamiliar movements in the Force. It's fortunate he's already familiar with Padmé's signature, or this week would also have to be used to get used to having her constant presence beside him as he rested. He fears he's going to get less sleep than usual due to her proximity as it is, but for an entirely different reason.

Following her example, Obi-Wan moves to settle into the bed beside her, with a good foot of space between them. It seems rather ridiculous, since they're 'married,' but he merely lets a smile cross his face before sighing in content as his body settles. "Goodnight, my lady," he intones softly.

That foot feels like a mile at the same time it's not enough distance at all. Strange and familiar at the same time, it's only the exhaustion of the day setting in that lets her relax into the blankets, the pillow under her head the perfect amount of fluff. Lying on her back, she looks over at him for a long moment with a look of fondness before echoing the sentiment. "Sleep well, my knight."

She's asleep in minutes, turning onto her side toward the window to be more comfortable, and for the first few hours she sleeps deeply and doesn't move again. With all the travel she's done since taking her role in the Senate, she's learned to sleep anywhere under various conditions, so it's not surprising that she has no trouble falling asleep under the guard of a Jedi Knight. It's staying asleep that is the problem, and has been for a number of weeks now.

The dreams take hold an hour before sunrise, memories creeping to the forefront of her mind and seeping into whatever pleasant scene her mind had created. The rain of glass upon white sheets and the smears of red that followed. The shouting surrounding her as she tried to stop that red from flowing over her hands. The tears hot on her face--

Tears that are there once again as she wakes with a start, pulling in a quiet gasping breath before remembering who sleeps beside her. Her heart still races as she slowly sits up and carefully climbs out of the bed, intending to slip out of the room without waking Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan is pulled from his sleep by a feeling of unease. He lays perfectly still, searching for what disturbed him. A moment later, the figure beside him gasps and jerks just slightly. If he had still been sleeping, he might not have even noticed it; Padmé is far too good at controlling herself for his peace of mind, sometimes.

As she slowly leaves the bed, he debates how he should act. He could let her go, let her believe she didn't disturb him, that her nightmare went unnoticed. He wasn't going to leave her alone, uncomforted, but he could wait a few moments, before getting up himself. Pretend he only noticed afterward that she'd left, and had gone looking for her in concern.

It feels wrong to be disingenuous with her in such a way, though, even if she wouldn't be happy that he could sense things she might otherwise have kept hidden from him.

She's almost to the door before he sits up and calls out quietly, "Padmé." He says nothing else, but it's clear from his voice that he's awake and alert, and concerned. He will let her decide how she wants to proceed.

It shouldn't be the least bit surprising that he's awake, but the sound of her name still makes her wince. It's a good thing that he woke at the disturbance, either from her dream or her leaving the bed or who knew what; it's good that he can do his job of keeping her safe. But still, she would have rather escaped without notice.

Forcing herself to take a deep breath and smooth her expression into a calm facade, she glances back at him in the darkness, the moonlight illuminating enough of the room for her to see his outline on the bed. "I just need some air," she explains just as quietly, her tone easy and apologetic. "I'm sorry for waking you."

It saddens him that she goes to such trouble to lie to him, not just with her words, but her very tone and expression. But he lets her. He hopes she will someday turn to him first, when she's hurting like this; and she is hurting, he can feel it, tremors in the Force as she battled her emotions. Her soul cries, and it pains him to hear it.

"You didn't wake me, milady," which is the truth...depending on how you view it. He pushes back the sheets and starts to rise from the bed. "But now that I am awake, I think I shall make some tea." He leaves it at that, hoping that she will take up the unspoken invitation for company at some point. If she continues to grieve, he will - gently - confront her about it, but for now he lets her decide how to handle her emotions. If she wants space and solitude, he can give her that.


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

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