Work Text:
Anakin let himself breathe as the Chancellor made his final closing remarks, wishing the partygoers a pleasant evening. He had been requested as security for this event, a gala celebrating this or that. Before the war, the Jedi would have laughed in the face of the bizarre request, but with the War of Secession heating up the Council decided the Jedi would have to put on a more public front to assuage the Senate's fears.
With Anakin recovering from Geonosis and no threats detected, he had been given the supreme pleasure of rubbing elbows with all sorts of politicians, from corrupt banking officials to hardliners like Senators Mothma and Organa.
Now, with the lights dimmed and the dull roar of the gathered partiers growing fainter as they left in their chauffeured speeders, he bid farewell to the security detail under his command and waved at the Chancellor, who was being ushered out by one of his aides.
He let his shoulders sag. Now, he wasn't Jedi Skywalker or even Commander Skywalker. He was Ani, and his wife hadn't left the building yet. Letting the force guide him, he floated on the eddies of calm that a certain Nubian senator radiated no matter what, a siren song he was all too happy to listen to.
She wasn't in the main hall, bidding farewell to a close friend as they left, surrounded by murals depicting the idealized Republic she fought for.
She wasn't in the reception area, where dozens of holoprojectors had showcased a proposed expansion to some building Anakin had never seen, the astromech controlling them long gone to recharge.
She wasn't in the dining hall, where trays of weird food Anakin hadn't dared try lay forgotten. He had kept to a few flutes of bubbling water and had nibbled at some of the safer-looking foodstuffs. A roasted bug lay at the center of the table, the golden knife that had cut it open gleaming beside it. Looking closer, he realized it was a masterfully disguised cake. How odd.
He could feel eyes on him as he puzzled over the bug cake but didn't turn, content to play this game of hers.
"Master Jedi, surely you have something better to do than look at cake?" Her voice, soft yet strong, like the ringing of a chime at dawn cut through the silence. He could hear her smile, and would happily listen to it forever. It never failed to bring one to his own face.
"I do, my lady," he turned, only to be greeted by an empty room, tables and chairs pushed in and forgotten. "But the object of my search is most elusive."
"It has been a long night, Master Jedi. I bid your leave so that I might rest." A shadow ducked from the hall, and he gave chase leisurely, happy to play her game.
Stalking his way down the hall, the dim light cast tall shadows that he scrutinized. "It is customary to bid farewell where I can see you, madam senator, so as to remember your beauty until we next meet." He reminded her. "For without a reminder, my heart would wither."
His eyes, well adjusted to the dim conditions, finally picked out the detail the force told him he was missing. A shadow shuddered with barely contained laughter at their antics, giving him time to set the trap. Stalking past the pillar that hid the bearer of his heart, he waited soundlessly.
As her soft footsteps drew near, he held his breath, wishing he had the foresight to bring a holo to record more moments like these. A shaft of artificial moonlight pierced the curtains of a nearby balcony, illuminating the strip of the hallway that his quarry would have to cross to continue as she was. He would never grow tired of watching his wife.
The moonlight didn't disappoint. The thin beam revealed her in brief flashes as she hurried down the hall toward his vantage point. She clutched her shoes in her hand so as to move easier, the heels all but forgotten as the light caught her eyes, darting as swiftly as Anakin's, cataloging every shadow like an opponent on the Senate floor. Her dress was bunched in her other hand, the wine-colored synthsilk pooling around her knees as she hiked it up. Her hair had been let down, the two hairpins tucked behind one ear.
Through good luck or just a willingness to end the game, she passed right in front of his hideout. Wrapping the shadow in his arms, he dragged her around the column into the dim light that spilled from the now-silent ballroom. He was careful to keep his mechnohand away from her, but Padme insisted, placing a hand on his right forearm as they saw each other for the first time that night.
"There you are, my lady," he smiled into her neck as they melted together. "Now my heart can bloom."
"I think it's bloomed enough," Padme teased him easily. "Let me look at you, you nerf-herder."
He drew back, drinking in the view. His wife shone in the light, her cheeks flush, a smile still ghosting across her lips. He longed to chase that smile, but first, he had to defend himself.
He tried to appear stern, but Padme's smile grew as she tried to cover her laughter with her hand and he found he couldn't. He caught it, bringing it to his lips to kiss the back of with a tilt of his head. "The luckiest nerf-herder in the galaxy." He mumbled into her hand.
Padme hummed, giving him a peck on the cheek before returning to her spot tucked into his chest, her head resting under his.
"Did you enjoy the fete?" She murmured.
"I didn't even know what it was called until just now. I was too busy looking for a wayward senator."
"This 'wayward senator' was busy. I feel like I've been on my feet for days."
"My lady should have said, there is an easy fix for that." Stooping down, Anakin looped his arms behind Padme's knees and shoulders, tipping her up into a bridal carry. Ignoring her laughing protests, he deposited her in the first chair in the dining hall, dragging the neighboring chair closer before taking his own seat. When they were both settled and comfortable, Padme reached her hand out, sliding it along his arm before intertwining their fingers. Her head dropped to rest on his shoulder as he stroked her hand with his thumb.
"All anyone could talk about is the war."
Anakin cracked an eye open to watch his wife, whose gaze was fixed on their adjoined hands. The light melted them together, her porcelain skin blended perfectly with his golden shine.
He closed his eyes. "It'll be okay, Pads." His nickname earned his hand a sharp squeeze and a huff. Looking down, he was rewarded with a playful glare.
"No."
"Not a fan?"
"Nope."
"Alright, Angel."
"Ani."
"Angel." He whined back, dropping his head onto hers gently. They’re both quiet for a moment before Padme snort-giggles, sending Anakin into his own soft chuckles. Before long, they’re clutching each other, one’s laughs shaking the other before they start the cycle again. Padme had her finger twirled around his braid, tugging it with every laugh. Eventually they both quieted, and Padme returned to her pensive look. He wished to kiss it away, but he held himself back. She was worried, and it was best to tackle it head-on.
“Tell me it will be all right.”
“Of course it will, Padme. But you’re the senator. You know more than me.”
“They’ll be asking the Jedi to lead our armies any day now.”
“I know,” Anakin responded, thinking of the meetings Obi-Wan had been stuck in ever since he’d recovered enough to stand. “The Council will agree.”
“I can’t lose you, Anakin Skywalker.” A firm hand cupped his cheek as it turned him to stare into Padme’s iron gaze. “I won’t.” She promised him.
“You’ll have me, my lady, until the stars die out.” He echoed, a bit of poetry he remembered her liking coming to mind.
“You’ll have to come up with some original work eventually, Skywalker. I may love the tragedy of Set and Vere, but it’s bad luck for newlyweds to read from it.”
Anakin smiled. “Then I’ll have to think up some while we’re apart.”
“That you will.”
They settled into a comfortable silence. This high above the streets of Coruscant, not even the eternal speeder traffic breached the soundproofed walls of the Senatorial Tower. Anakin sat back, content to close his eyes and let his mind wander, his normally chaotic energy curbed by the pillar of serenity that lay curled into his side.
When this war is over, he thought. I’ll leave the order. In his semi-meditative state, the Force responded easily, showing him what his deepest dream might look like. A field of wildflowers surrounded a modest house on the edge of the Varykino estate grounds, two small figures screaming delightedly as they played in the meadow. Farther away, a clone trooper and the outline of a Togruta sparred playfully, both glowing under the Naboo sun. Set back from the spar, Obi-Wan smiled at two shapes under the lone tree on the property, who sat upon a white bench. There was no war, no dark cloud hung over any of the members of the small homestead. Anakin knew that they had all fought in it and that they were all changed by it, but nothing had broken apart his impromptu family.
Stepping closer, the two shapes coalesced into him and Padme, both smiling as they sat and watched the two children play. Anakin’s mechnoarm now extended to his shoulder, and he had a scar that looked to have nearly bisected his right eye, but his smile was still one he recognized whenever he looked into the mirror. His lightsaber still hung from his belt, but there was no reproachful look from Obi-Wan for showing his emotions so openly. His master merely smiled and nodded before a particularly joyful shout drug his attention away. A miniature Padme had a smaller version of himself pinned in the dirt, both laughing as the boy struggled to free himself.
“----” Dream-Padme called, “let —- up, and both of you get cleaned up. It’s almost time for the party.” Dream-Padme sighed when Dream-Anakin didn’t move, content to curl around his wife leisurely. “We have to move, Ani.” She moved her hand to lay atop his flesh hand, where it rested on the pregnant bump of her stomach. “We wouldn’t want to make your mom wait, would we?”
“Of course not, Pads.” Dream-him helped Padme up, and the entire group faded as they walked towards the house. Anakin tried to follow, but his feet were glued. As the vision faded into the blank darkness of sleep, he broke free.
Turning to share his vision with Padme, he found it would have to wait. The exhaustion of the day had defeated her, and her chest rose and fell with the rhythm of deep sleep.
He smiled softly before kissing her brow and settling in for a long night. He wouldn't dare disturb her now.
“Sweet dreams, Angel,” he whispered gently. Padme didn’t stir. “May they be as pleasant as mine.”
The chair was more comfortable than his berth at the temple, anyways.