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© Danielle Harwood-Atkinson 2002-2021. All rights reserved.

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Daniella's Bureau; A Fanfic And Desktop Site


"What the Sith is this?" Anakin asked when he caught the two of them in bed together.

"You can hardly claim innocence on the subject," Obi-Wan replied as he made no attempt to remove himself from Padmé's side. "After all, you requisitioned everything about Naboo from the Temple archives and they do mention this peculiar custom."

"But it's adultery!" Anakin cried.

"I assure you, Ani, it's quite normal," Padmé added. "Sola mentioned hers when you were on Naboo. It's also wise."


"I shall need comfort while you are away. And we shall benefit from Obi-Wan's experience."

Anakin left, blushing.


"There," Obi-Wan murmured, breathlessly, "is that the spot?"

"Oh yes," Padmé sighed, in contentment caused by the obliging Jedi's hands. Obi-Wan always knew how to answer her needs, his mind seemed attuned to them before she herself was aware of the desire.

Abruptly his hands froze, causing instant dissatisfaction. Before Padmé could ask why, the source reached her ears.

The penthouse door opened, and the visitor frowned suspiciously at the sight which awaited him.

"Ah, there you are, Padawan," Obi-Wan remarked in his usual cultured tones. "I was just giving Senator Amidala some relief from the strain of working long hours behind a desk."


Anakin stared at them speechlessly for some moments, his mouth spluttering, his emotions battling against long hours spent on honing control of them. Against his wishes his eyes continued to stare, taking in every detail of the scene before him, until his senses were completely overwhelmed. His features paled into an ivory white then shifted into various shades before finally fixing on green. Abruptly he turned round and careened rapidly out of the room, back the way he came.

As soon as the door closed, Obi-Wan returned to his previous position. "Now where was I? Oh yes, right there."

Padmé sighed.


"Come on. It's in here."

Padmé eyed Dormé charily. Her handmaiden always surprised her when it was her birthday and each year, it always turned out to be something she loathed.

"It's nothing bad this time, I promise," Dormé uttered, her expression instantly making her mistress even more wary.

"Close your eyes," Dormé insisted as she motioned the door to slide away, and her mistress obeyed, taking comfort from the momentary blindness.

The handmaiden pushed her inside. Padmé stumbled a little, half falling into something.

"Surprise, my love," Obi-Wan said.

Padmé smiled before letting him kiss her.

Dormé was right.


"Master, Obi-Wan, more to say have you?" Yoda asked.

Obi-Wan nodded before taking Senator Amidala's hand in his. Padmé smiled nervously at the Jedi Masters, fearful of their reaction.

"When you requested that I escorted Senator Amidala home, you believed that, unlike Padawan Skywalker, I could be trusted to respect the Code regarding attachment."

"We did," Master Windu remarked, frowning.

"Then, I must inform you that, while we were on Naboo, Padmé and I were married," Obi-Wan concluded, inwardly hiding a grin as those Councillors present gasped in shock.

He always enjoyed it when he managed to dumbfound the Order.


"It is a great pleasure to see you again, milady," Obi-Wan uttered as he bowed before her, taking the proffered hand in his, raising it to his lips.

As his mouth touched her soft skin, Padmé strived to keep her composure. Unlike last night, the latest in a series of nightly encounters, he was not alone, and neither was she. Dormé and Captain Panaka chaperoned her, while his padawan provided the same service for him, albeit unknowingly.

"It has been far too long, Master Kenobi," she replied, his hand still keeping hold of hers, as they exchanged a secret smile.


What do you think of the Queen?" Qui-Gon asked.

Obi-Wan shrugged, afraid to say anything, for he had been trying ever since Padmé revealed herself to think of anyone else, and in vain.

"She seems to possess a certain refined beauty, intelligence and unspoilt grace," Qui-Gon mused, turning to look at the sovereign as she continued to talk with Boss Nass.

"She is very striking," Obi-Wan agreed, the words loosed from his mouth before he realised what his master had done.

Qui-Gon smiled. Now all he needed was the same from the Queen, and he could start planning the union.



No response.


Still ignored.


Utter silence.

Anakin sighed and gave up the attempt. With a wave of his hand he used the Force to turn away the attention of the other customers captured by his last series of raised decibels, then handed the menus back to the waiter.

"Just bring us the specials," he ordered, stressing the words with a mind trick.

The waiter grinned, seemingly unmoved by the padawan's ability. "No force can disturb true love," he mused before walking away.

Obi-Wan and Padmé continued to stare at each other, oblivious to everything else except themselves.


"Thank you Anakin, but I must decline your offer," Padmé replied, her tone gentle, as she tried not to hurt the young man.

Anakin's disappointment was inevitable however, and increased as someone came to interrupt them.

"Padawan, how's the arm?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Fine, Master." Anakin answered sadly.

Obi-Wan glanced at Padmé, whose look was all too eloquent. "Anakin, we'll be back soon."

"What?" the injured Jedi queried. "Where are you two going?"

"I have something I wish to ask Padmé," Obi-Wan replied, smiling at her, inwardly assured that the asking was a formality, for her answer lay in her eyes.


Obi-Wan almost moaned aloud when he saw the dress Padmé decided to wear for their trip to Varykino. When he offered to escort her home, he thought he would be able to control his desire. Clearly, she had every intention of making sure he would find that impossible. Each inch of the multicoloured silk, from the way it hung about her, leaving her back bare, finally to the furbelow trim finishing just above her ankles, appeared to declare war on years of Jedi self-discipline. The gondola journey would be an endless siege until he surrendered, touching her lips with his.


"Are you alright, milady?"

Padmé quietly sighed then carefully rose up from the bed to turn and present her concerned and attentive handmaiden with a reassuring smile.

"I'm fine, thank you, Dormé."

"I just thought I heard you scream."

"It was nothing," Padmé replied. "My hand got twisted under me and fell asleep."

"Okay," Dormé smiled. "I'll see you in the morning. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Padmé returned.

She waited for the door to close, then turned round to look at the Jedi lying beneath her, wearing nothing but a large grin.

"Next time we do this in the Temple," she threatened.


"Grown more beautiful, for a Senator that is."

Padmé laughed at the fumbling awkward padawan Anakin seemed to have transformed into, who now blushed, embarrassed by his words. She felt sorry for the man who still carried the crush he first felt when she met him as a little boy on Tatooine. For he was not the one she was nurturing feelings for when she walked into Watto's junk shop. No, that would be his Master, who stood beside him now, with an eloquent gaze that let her know despite a decade passing he still felt the same as she.


Padmé had a secret which she concealed from everyone who knew her. Whenever Anakin was away, fighting in the Clone Wars, she would not sleep alone. The material of a Jedi's cloak would comfort her during his absence. When he returned this garment was closeted away, hidden from his suspicious mind. If he found it, he would be angry, for it was not he who was lacking a cloak, but his Master. Obi-Wan had left it behind after jumping through her window to grab the assassin droid. She would wear the robe, and imagine that she was in his arms.


It would be the last service he rendered for her, and it would break his heart. The organ within his beleaguered body was vulnerable from the moment he laid eyes on her. He had known, even then, that she would never be his, yet his heart and mind had knelt before her and sworn a life long allegiance. For her he had slain sith, duelled droids, jumped through windows, all that he could to keep her safe. Until Anakin discarded her upon Mustafar. Until he held her son in his arms, watched her die, his oath transferred to her children.


"Obi-Wan's been here, hasn't he?"

"Yes, he came by this morning."

Her voice sounded perfectly innocent, yet the creature inside Anakin, the one who came into being when he murdered the Tuskens, crackled greedily to itself, chanting the words over and over until they were twisted inside his mind. Until his dreams were haunted by that visit, imagining over and over that her sweet voice concealed a love for his Master, and the affection he once bore to Obi-Wan flipped over into ever lasting hate. He never realised the truth in the illusion, forgot that she was never his wife.


He was a traveller upon a foreign plain, yet the landscape felt familiar to him, as if he had dreamt the moment before, or planned for it all his life. Strange he should have no knowledge of this until now, along with the emotions that accompanied such learning, as though they had been hidden behind a veil in his mind, until the he met the one who would peel it away, revealing the heart that lay beneath it, waiting for her. His fingers were exploring her soft skin, while her lips caressed his own, the Force joining their names forever.


To sleep, perchance to dream, and Obi-Wan could not believe he wasn't dreaming as his fingers lovingly caressed the soft skin of the woman below him. Padmé regarded him with a seductive smile as she waited for those talented hands to reach their intended destinations, an exercise in exquisite pleasure. A soft moan escaped her mouth as his grazed her neck, the beard surrounding it tickling her. The negotiator had no need for words or imagination tonight, gifts which laid the foundation of their love years before, when he jumped down from cloistered passage to save her and her people.


Obi-Wan was the one who made the assay, his hand reaching out to touch her skin. He slid a finger slowly down her back, keeping his gaze fixed on Padmé's face, watching her reaction. She stilled, her breathing slowed, while her complexion glowed in anticipation. Continuing to caress, Obi-Wan leaned forward, touching her lips with his. All thought of Anakin faded away within seconds of this kiss, for the Padawan's attempt paled in comparison to the Master's. Where Anakin was demanding, Obi-Wan was tender. His apprentice foisted kisses, forcing her response, whereas Obi-Wan gave everything, asking for nothing in return.


Obi-Wan stared unflinchingly in the collective gaze of the Council. He had argued their case to the best of his ability and now awaited their judgement on the matter. Within the Fore he could sense their feelings; a mixture of astonishment and terror, too powerful to be concealed by the usual veil of shields which the Masters used for communication when petitioned. That he of all Knights should come before them to defend himself for falling victim to such a temptation. It meant that none of them were immune to such failings. Love really could conquer all, even the Force.

Obi-Wan stared unflinchingly in the collective gaze of the Council. He could feel another set of eyes fixed upon him from the side, their gaze the colour of Sith lightning, sending blue laser tipped sparks into his heart. Neither reaction prevented him from his arguing his case. Too long had the Jedi remained resistant to change, overconfident in their beliefs in the danger of romantic emotions. No more. He had married Padmé because he loved her, not to force a change within the Order, but there was no harm in negotiating for one. It was what they trained him for.

Obi-Wan stared unflinchingly in the collective gaze of the Council. He could feel another set of eyes burning into the back of his head, but he knew that if he turned round the owner of said gaze would vent his fury with words which would only make the Council's reaction worse. A Jedi Master petitioning them for changes in the code regarding attachment, they could handle, just. A padawan throwing a petulant fit at his master for marrying the woman he loved would shame both himself and Anakin. But it was necessary, for the boy had to grow, realise maturity.


Obi-Wan looked at his cards one last time, then grinned as he placed all of them into the stasis field, issuing a groan from the player opposite.

"Again?" Padmé queried only to receive a nod in reply. "Are you sure you haven't played Sabacc before?"

"Not this Sabacc," Obi-Wan replied, indicating their unusual bargaining chips.

"I should hope not," Padmé murmured with a small smile. "Care to make things interesting?"


"All or nothing."

"Done," Obi-Wan replied, before revealing his hand. "Pure Sabacc."

"You've been outmanoeuvred, Negotiator," Padmé uttered as she revealed hers; Idiot's Array. "Now, give me your boxers."


Padmé couldn't help but recoil from his lips, her hands gripping the balustrade in front of them hard enough for it to crumble. The last thing she wanted was the man standing beside her, especially when her heart was set on another. Frantically she looked about for somewhere to escape. Below her the water splashed causing her to contemplate jumping into the lake, when a figure emerged from the waves.

Gathering her dress Padmé climbed over the balustrade and leapt into the water. Her rescuer took her into his arms, and she wrapped hers around Obi-Wan and kissed his lips.


He was an intelligent, rational man, capable of adapting himself to whatever the Force happened to throw at him, or throw him into. Yet, when it came to love, he was at a loss, his intellectualism confounded by the emotion. Despite that he was familiar with the feeling, he had experience with it, receiving it from many people during his lifetime.

Padmé's soft lips touched his. A mouth opened, inviting him in, along with a heart, guiding his own into the place which was destined for him alone. And suddenly he was found, and in that moment, he understood everything.


She must be mad, Padmé mused as she stole away from the villa in Varykino, her silver ship climbing out of the atmosphere. Something possessed her this morning, for how else could she account for the sudden change of heart where Anakin was concerned.

Obi-Wan's fighter was waiting for her as her ship broke orbit, the craft making use of her docking bay. Blushing at the symmetry to another union in her mind, she greeted him with a kiss that left them breathless.

If it is madness, then I hope we never recover from it, was her last coherent thought.


Relax, he told himself. There was no need to be nervous. He'd thought this over for so long. It was understandable that he had doubts now the moment was here. Regarding her, that is. As far as his feelings went, he could not be more certain that he was doing the right thing.

"What did you want to tell me?"

"That I won't stand in your way."

"Are you sure?"

Resolutely, he nodded.

"Thank you, Ani," Padmé replied. Rising from the sofa, she kissed his cheek before joining Obi-Wan outside.

Anakin watched them as they kissed. Yes, he was sure.


Preposterous, Anakin decided, dismissing Palpatine's suspicion as soon as the Chancellor aired it. Yet the allegation continued to haunt him as he journeyed to the Nubian Residence.

Padmé seemed distracted as she spoke him. Tired also, but he put that down to her Senatorial duties and pregnancy. Her tone was warm as she answered his query about Obi-Wan; her hand on his back was almost deliberate, as if she expected his temper to flare up and was trying to calm him.

Suddenly he could see Obi-Wan sitting here, feel Padmé laying a hand on his back.

The allegation acquired credence.


Obi-Wan kissed her, his hands tangling themselves in her hair, pulling her gently down. Padmé lost herself in the sensations, in the beautiful artistry that was their kiss.

Tumbling into each others arms upon the sofa, the couple revelled in this heady closeness.

A kick caused them to part, glancing down at the source, before rising.

Obi-Wan laid a hand on Padmé's belly. "I should go. Take care of yourself. And them." He kissed her again, then left.

Padmé told the truth when Anakin asked, but she kept truths from him too, for her safety, the twins, and their father.


There is no passion the code said, yet Obi-Wan felt the very essence of that emotion as he kissed Padmé. Her response was equally passionate, her touch inspiring, requiring more. And he was more than willing to give. All outside forces faded from notice, they were aware of no one, nothing except each other. Except the sensations each touch created, their ever increasing desire for more and above all the voice inside of them demanding this deeper commitment.. Urging them towards a union of bodies, hearts and souls. It was a voice he knew well.

The voice of the Force.


To say that he was astonished would be an understatement. Scarcely believing what he heard Obi-Wan turned round. "What did you say?" he asked, his voice hoarse with un-avowed hope.

"I said, I love you," Padmé replied as she walked steadily towards him. "I love you, Obi-Wan."
Still a part of him refused to believe, a part that questioned what she could find to love in a Jedi such as he. The part that never saw himself as anything but a servant of the Force.

Then Padmé titled her head, her lips touched his, and slowly he began to believe.


They learned to prearrange their reunions a long time ago, aware of the limits outside influences such as the clone wars and the Senate could create. Servants of their people they had reconciled themselves to putting their marriage second long ago. But neither could deny that the separation was hard or the hails and farewells such sweet sorrow to endure. Yet they would do what they must.

Their villa at Varykino was usually the preferred location, an ideal retreat from the troubles of the Republic. Obi-Wan would arrive in his Skysprite, Padmé via the gondola. The time was never enough.


"Stay longer we shall," the master declared.

Anakin grimaced as he wondered whose bright idea it had been for two masters to accompany him and Padmé back to Naboo. Obi-Wan and the Senator were clearly enjoying their time together far more than they should and master Yoda seemed to be doing everything he could to exacerbate the situation. However much Anakin tried to involve himself with his master and Padmé, he was unable to part them from one another, or master Yoda would haul him away instead. Leaving him helpless, unable to do naught but watch them fall in love.


There was a sudden unexpected warmth as he touched her, quite unlike any heat she had previously known. With Anakin it had been a fiery, one-sided passion, so intense she feared she would be burned by the flames of his desire. Stoked by a decade long adoration before a pedestal of his own making. she should have known the fire would die, leaving embers of hate in its wake. With Obi-Wan, there was no fear of burning, his passion a sanctuary of blankets and furs, a cabin where pleasures of flesh were savoured by soft candlelight. True love, she realised.


Obi-Wan caught her look and his heart stilled. He was not nonnescient in the ways of love, yet this was new territory, he was a pilgrim upon an unchartered plain. Before they made the first move, and in a sense so had she, but her heart was still protected, she could profess innocence if she wished. It would be he who made himself vulnerable to learn if that look was loving. Before he had always protected them from his emotions, a habit ingrained from Force discipline. With Padmé however, he wanted to show his heart, his soul. To be vulnerable.


Padmé watched the skies avidly, desperate for a rescue. As sovereign, this was the first time she had felt so powerless. Powerless and helpless. It was not a state she was fond of being in, one so intelligent and driven as she.

And then suddenly there was a shimmer of blue, a glorious hue, as a knight dropped down from the sky to rescue his damsel. She was no damsel, nor was he a knight, but already she could see the Soresu master he would become.

A flick of the wrist, his lightsaber swirled, his eyes caughts hers and ensouled.


As he landed on the back of the Reek, Padmé's hand grazed his thigh, her fingers sliding down the contours of his muscle in a gentle caress. Obi-Wan almost groaned. His gaze landed on her wounds and he put the pleasure he received from the gesture into healing them, trying to ignore the emotions he felt in the touch.

Later, when the battle and duels were over, they would tend to each other, healing the heartache that comes from death, from the old lies, dulce et decorum est pro patria mori,* and there is no death, there is the force.

*: From the Latin; there is no greater honour than to die for one's country; literally; It is sweet and fitting to die for the fatherland.' Also a reference to a poem by Wilfred Owen, a World War II poet, who calls it the old lie in his poem titled by the same phrase.


Padmé's mind whirled evne before Obi-Wan finished speaking. Anakin had been here, asking her the same question. It seemed like a lifetime ago, yet he was still on Coruscant, recovering from Geonosis. While the words his master used were a stark contrast, their essence remained the same. For a moment she compared the dichotomy of their confessions, an attempt to reconcile, to comprehend. To Anakin love was a torment, a scar upon his soul, her receptiveness a release from suffering. Whereas Obi-Wan simply laid his body and soul before her, without asking for anything in return.

His was true love.



Qui-Gon sighed as he caught Obi-Wan gazing at Padmé. He had seen that look before, he knew well what it meant. Admonish the boy, Yoda would counsel, now before it was too late, but how could he after that Obi-Wan had done? Four days ago his padawan saved his life, defeating a Sith against impossible odds, healing a mortal wound. An extraordinary thing, from an extraordinary Jedi. A Knight now, one whom he shamefully neglected, treated dismissively in favour of an untested boy.

Besides it was too late for admonishment. The feeling was returned and the force gloried within it.


She could not hear him ululating, at least not through her ears, yet his grief howled in her mind, a sound so desolate it caught her to the quick. Staying her security with a motion of the hand, Padmé advanced into the conical chamber, her gaze never straying from the crouching Jedi. He held his master close to him, shielding his mortal wound from her eyes. His own were veiled in grief, unaware of her presence until she dropped to her knees beside him, and her hand reached out to clasp his heaving shoulders. She held him until sorrow eased.


Padmé looked at Anakin, readying herself to surrender to the same emotion which gripped him when a glimmer of light made her stop and stare. From the shadow of the tunnel, across the jeering arena stood Obi-Wan, his fierce blue eyes burning a path over the sand drenched floor. Towards the tumbrel, into her brown once hooded gaze. Blinkered no more, she returned the emotion conveyed, glorying within the sudden clarity. Now she understood what had prevented her, what she caught a glimpse of on Coruscant before he leapt through transparisteel. Nothing demanded of her, only bestowed, a true knight.


She could not turn away, Anakin's influencing stare no longer held a power over her. The tumbrel left the tunnel, bringing her closer to him. His fierce gaze also never moved. As the guards herded them out she reached for lock pick, securing it in her mouth. Their confession and exchange would have to wait until their lives were no longer captive.

But she could glory within the emotion, taste its delights and savour them, all the while her focus was demanded elsewhere. Marshalling her love would need, as well as her defences, to convince him where her constancy lay.


He caught sight of her through the tunnel, half glad and half annoyed at her rescue attempt, for it was a kindliness he could have done without, as it only politicised the situation. She met his look, turning away from Anakin's piercing gaze, and he saw in her then an emotion he had thought was reserved for his padawan. He could do naught but return the love, for love it was, unexpected, but not unwelcome. Later there would be time for confession and exchange, a time to glory within the feeling. Now he had to fight to reach that moment.


Obi-Wan laughed. He couldn't help himself. He was not one usually given to disport, especially during times of war, but with his wife, with Padmé, he could relax. He could be himself, without the rigorous self-discipline of the Jedi, or the censorship he held himself to whilst training Anakin.

She laughed with him, her beautiful curled hair shaking along with her body, her eyes moist as she collapsed into his arms with glee. Caught in her gaze, blue eyes met brown, whereupon the humour withdrawing like the tide, as waves of desire swept over them. Kissing, they let themselves drown.


Padmé stepped into her apartment and sighed with a mixture of relief and annoyance. Today had been a thankless day in the Senate. Hour upon hour of endless debate, from the section of representatives she felt loathed to call colleagues. Senators who cared for nothing and no one but themselves and their status. Posturing over a meaningless piece of petty legislation, driving everyone else to the point of exhaustion.

Soft light roused her from mithering, a candlelit dinner recalled her need for sustenance, and the blue-eyed gaze of her husband Obi-Wan captured the rest of her memory. She let go.


It should have been a sight to which he reacted hideously; the woman he loved in another man's embrace. Yet Anakin could not deny that there was a rightness about what he saw, even as it sickened his soul. He should turn away, he knew he was intruding upon a private moment, that this embrace was an intimacy he should not disturb. But the Force stayed his feet, wordlessly whispering to him that there was something still to learn.

Suddenly they turned, beckoned him forward as a priest emerged from the shadows. An honour, he realised, to witness their vows.


When he woke, sated from the seduction, only then was there time to pause and reflect. Of all the outcomes from their quarrel, this was one he never looked for, or expected. How she had foreseen and prepared herself for this scenario was a marvel, but then she was always a wise woman beneath the outward guise of an innocent girl. By rights he should be angry with her for using the affection of his padawan to force a meeting with him and then confess of her own, but he couldn't rouse the energy required, for that or anything else.


Padmé felt the linen shift beside her and let a satisfied smile grace her features. Yesterday had been a whirl of frazzling emotions, now it was time to linger, to pause and reflect over what she had done. After all she had committed a grievous crime. Seducing a Jedi Master. The man she had loved since she first set eyes on him a decade ago on Naboo. But the condemnation of the Order did not trouble her. Only the feelings of one member mattered. Turning, silently she met his considering gaze, wondering if her heart was about to be broken.


Obi-Wan caught her tentative glance, noting the concern within and wondered not. From his perspective she had a great deal to worry about, though he suspected only one aspect truly troubled her, where his feelings, his heart, lay. She did not realise how willingly he surrendered to her yesterday, nor that he held no regrets about their coupling. But in her mind he had every right to be angry at this violation of the Jedi Code. She would not expect him to gather her up into his arms, bestow a loving kiss upon her lips, declare his heart was hers.


He was drowning. This is Obi-Wan Kenobi drowning. For a moment he surrendered to the tempting call of the Force, beckoning him into the light of the afterlife. It would be so easy to just let the water take him, become another martyr of the Clone army. But as the water began to immerse him, something called him back from the brink. He could hear her voice calling out to him from across the galaxy, her despair if he did not answer her. He could not refuse her, it was not within his power. He would live for her now.


One question haunted him, even as he began to indulge himself in the delightful sensations which the confirmation of her feelings had brought him. That was whether it was truly feasible. There would be talk, that was natural, their duties would interfere, Anakin would be upset, these things were inevitable. Would their relationship endure all those trials, that was the rub. As soon as he pondered such a thought, the Force answered him vehemently and positively that they would. It all depended on how Anakin took the news. For good or ill, Anakin's reaction was the first impasse to overcome.


Though she had attempted to make peace between Obi-Wan and Anakin, Padmé could still sense that a spark of discord remained. So she retired to her bedroom, hoping that once left alone, the Master and Padawan would resolve the matter amicably. Deliberately she lingered in her disrobing, conscious of the surveillance placed upon her since the attempts on her life. Panaka she knew would give her the privacy required, but after his compliments today, she did not trust Anakin to do the same. She had caught Obi-Wan's expression then. Padmé hoped he would continue to be discreet with his affections.


It had been the height of stupidity, leaping through that window to capture the Kouhun probe. Yet he knew if the situation presented itself again, he would do the same. Still it was a stupid move. A recklessness he thought he had grown out of, the same impulsiveness he lectured Anakin over on a daily basis. Hypocrisy, considering they both did it for her, both loved her, neither as eloquently as perhaps they should. For a moment he pondered her feelings. He recalled her look following him, compared to the fright Anakin's saber move produced. Perhaps that said it all.


There was something different about him today, Padmé observed. A certain frailty she had not noticed until now. Was it always there, she wondered, or had something occurred? Usually he was so serene, a quiet calm both within and without which, made her feel safe and loved. Now that was fractured, allowing her to see the vulnerability underneath. She went to him, wrapping her arms around him, lending him her strength. For a moment he stood still, then accepted the gift, enclosing his arms around her, threading his fingers through her hair. Whatever it was, they would face it, together.


Throughout the journey they sat at the table, their hands entwined, mouths silent and thoughts elsewhere. Their destination loomed over them, as they struggled to comprehend, to come to terms with the doom that had come upon them. A doom which they were to prevent, if they could. How to go about it, how to achieve the impossible, was what puzzled them. Could they pull him back from the brink, or must they face a terrible truth, that the chosen one was lost forever. The future was uncertain, the past full of regret. But this moment was for them alone.


"You're serious," She realised. Indeed there was nothing about him which, would suggest otherwise. He stared back at her unjocosely, his countenance solemn and grave.

Padmé took a deep breath as she became accustomed to the idea. "So, what do I do now?" she asked.

Obi-Wan slowly sank into the seat beside her. "What ever you wish," he replied. "The choice is yours and Anakin and I will abide by it."

"The choices of one shape the futures of all," Padmé murmured.

Her companion stilled. "I told you that once," he recalled.

"You did," she confirmed before she kissed him.


"But then, just when they thought it was safe, the evildoer rose up and struck the fatal blow."

A horrified gasp swept through the room as the listeners digested this morsel of the tale. The storyteller waited for silence, then continued.

"Our heroes are made of strong stuff. They did not let this deter them. With the help of the Force, a lightsaber and a blaster, they swept their enemies from their sight."

"Ani, what are you telling them?"

"Mom, is it true you and Dad fought in the Clone Wars?"

"Yes, Luke. Now say goodnight to your Uncle Ani."


The tension in the room was palpable. Obi-Wan shifted nervously in his seat, while he waited for Padmé to speak. Though he was well aware that only a minute had passed since he finished his speech, the ensuing silence felt longer due to his concern over her response. Should he have waited, he wondered, given her more time. Yet the Force had convinced him to speak and though he was only a man, he was also a Jedi, serving that ancient energy was instinctive, disobeying, impossible.

"Yes," Padmé said, the word a sudden shaft of light. "I will marry you."


At first he could not believe what it was he was sensing. His emotions were in so much turmoil that it took some time before he was able to calm himself and listen to what they were telling him. With the Force came acceptance and disappointment.

"I'm so sorry," he said before turning round and walking out of the apartment towards his ship.

"Obi-Wan," Padmé called out and he turned around to see her hurrying to him. "They're yours."

He stilled, his eyes never moving from her desperate gaze. Then he took her in his arms, all their hopes answered.


"Obi-Wan?" Padmé queried.

"Yes, milady," he replied, surprising her with his curtness.

"Why won't you look at me?" she asked.

"I can't," he uttered shortly.

"Ignoring his unusual impoliteness, Padmé rose from her seat and made her way over to where he stood by the large transparisteel window.

"Why?" she asked again.

"Because when I do, all I want to do, is this," he answered before kissing her.

The motion caught her by surprise, but then her response caught him too. He had not expected it. Wrapping his arms around her as the kiss intensified, he was glad he surrendered.


Obi-Wan woke to find her standing on the balcony again. Grabbing his robe, he joined her outside, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"I'm sorry," Padmé murmured as he came to rest his chin upon her hair. "This balcony is proving to be quite evocative."

"Do you want to go back to Theed?" He asked.

Padmé shook her head. "I need to learn how to let go of these memories and move on." she chuckled at her resolve. "Spoken like a Jedi, must be the company I keep," she mused.

"Maybe we should create a new one," Obi-Wan kissed her.


Obi-Wan kissed her, motion which she readily returned, the memory of hers and Anakin's wedding feeling like an interloper, intruding upon her time with him. Turning around in his arms, she found and undid the belt of his robe, letting her hands wander beneath the garment.

He pushed her against the stone rail, parting first her robe then her legs. She welcomed him eagerly, letting him have his way with her. His lips moved from her mouth down in a caressing journey across her body, settling on her breasts as he began to thrust in and out of her core.


It was an unorthodox way to exorcise a memory but if it worked, Padmé wasn't going to question it. She smiled at Obi-Wan as he came back up to meet her eyes with his own. He matched the grin as his hands lingered upon her skin.

"I take it you didn't mind that then?" He queried lightly.

Padmé's smile widened. Considerate, generous, tender, passionate and humble. This was why she had married him, because he was everything Anakin was not.

"Not at all," she assured him. "You can do that any time you wish."

"Only with your blessing," he added.


"You'll always have it," she promised him, as she had once before, when he asked her to live on Polis Massa. The sight of him, clutching her son, looking so lost, still haunted her. Her heart had gone out to him in that moment, never to return.

"I hope I shall never give you cause to withdraw it," he uttered softly.

"I don't believe you will," she replied. "You know the difference between uxorious and possessive."

"Yet I failed to teach it," he reminded her.

"No, he failed to learn it," she corrected him.

That was the difference between them.


It felt weird kissing Padmé. He had imagined doing so many times, yet not the moment had come, it seemed profoundly odd.

It was wrong.

He stepped away. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

"Agreed,” she murmured.

"I’m sorry."

"You’re forgiven, Ani."

It was clear to him now that he and Padmé were not meant to be together. Not only did the code forbid it, but apparently so did the Force.

Silently he asked the ancient energy who it had in mind.

He was surprised by the answer. But in a way it made far more sense than he ever did.



"Its not fair!" he finished querulously.

Padmé laughed. "You sound like a child deined their favourite toy."

"I'm not whining!" Anakin protested.

Padmé sobered. "Then take your criticism to the Council. Don't praise my husband one minute, then disparage him the next. And don't look at me like that."

"Why not?"

"Because its making me uncomfortable."

"Sorry milady."

Later, when she confided in Obi-Wan, Padmé elaborated.

"It was as though he wore a mask which slipped to reveal his true face. A dangerous evil passion that knew no bounds. I was staring into the abyss and the abyss stared back."


He was fathoms deep with no hope of reprieve. His heart was lost almost from the moment he saw her. By the time they parted on Coruscant, she for the Senate, he for the Temple, he knew he was past the point of no return. They shared a long look across the landing platform that was both eloquent and profound, the force singing in his mind. As if he needed such encouragement from the ancient energy, though it was a comfort all the same. If he was going to lose his heart forever, at least he had the Force's blessing.



Her world was in turmoil, her people needed her now more than ever before, and yet all she could think about was him. Benighted on all fronts, she should be feeling wretched, yet there was a smile on her face and happiness in her heart when she looked at him. That gaze across the landing platform conveyed more than words ever could, though if he felt the same she was uncertain. Now was not their moment but she felt that it could be soon, when the clouds cleared over her world, and the blockade lifted, turning darkness turned into day.


She reached out, expecting to find a warm body, instead all she felt were the sheets. Padmé opened her eyes and cast glance around the bedroom. Her gaze came to the window and found where her husband had gone. She could see him through the veiled transparisteel gonig through his morning exercises. Rising from the bed she grabbed a robe and came to stand in the open doorway. Brushing aside the curtain, she watched as Obi-Wan moved lissomely through his Soresu. The Jedi was in his element, yet attune with his surroundings. He opened his eyes and bowed before her.

© Danielle Harwood-Atkinson 2021. All rights reserved.