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forever--darling · 4 months

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the princess of bakura

summary: you are faced with reality finally catching up with you as you are at risk of falling with your planet amidst the clone wars, yet your father the king of bakura refuses to let you stay within the burning city, thus contacting his old-time friend and jedi he was in training with to come and take you from the city.

pairings: anakin skywalker x princess!reader

word count: 2.2k

warnings/notes: mention of war, of death, mention of clone of wars, the start and beginning or rather where it all ended for the princess of bakura but not for y/n.

series masterlist | 00

The fires appeared, reflected from the great towers in waves of orange and red. The very sound of buildings collapsing into fines of dust and ash was the only attention-holder you had from the high floors of the capital. Locked away within a side room, the gold dress pooled in heaps at your feet, as the handmaiden undid the clasps from the tops of your shoulders. The raging sounds of gunfire no longer had the ability to make you react in the form of a jump or to shiver out of fear — it was too normal, too accustomed to this life that had become Bakura. As if there could be any room for it — for the fear, that surely the evil would succumb to and never let go of.

“Princess we must hurry,” your handmaiden Sora cried, tears welling up within her innocent green pupils. She wasn’t much older than you, in fact maybe no more than a year or two, and yet her life was sealed, sure to never escape the ruin that would become.

“Why? They’re coming. I’m sure my escape won’t be deemed successful,” you could barely recognize your own voice, so void of hope, of a greater good but rather defeat.

“We must not say things such as that.”

“And why not?” you asked, turning to find a pair of tight black pants hanging in her arms, sure to not get caught on anything as if your father was expecting you to run, “It’s not as if they aren’t true.”

She gave you the piece of garment, and you took it, aware almost as if you could sense that there was something she wasn’t telling you. Rather, was withholding as the intruders marched to the gates of the capital, their sabers and guns fully loaded. Hesitantly, you pulled the garment on just as she offered a long black tunic that was tight around the chest and shoulders, with short sleeves and bracings where the belts would go. She bit down on her lip, and you knew it then. There was something she wasn’t telling you.

“What is it?”

“It is nothing to be concerned with. We just must hurry, to ensure your safety.”

“My safety?” You repeated brows furrowed as her innocent face refused to meet yours. “Tell me what it is you know. I ask of it. No, I demand of it. Sora, this is perhaps our last moment in the same room together so please.”

She tried to offer a smile, one of encouragement, as the tunic slipped over your frame and tightened at the back, just like the rest of the corsets you had been wearing since you were no older than thirteen. But it was only sad, her face painted in dried tears as the corners of her lips barely managed to lift.

“The Jedis have come.”

Hurriedly, the belts were wrapped around your mid-drift and tightened as you waited impatiently, with the sounds of soldiers’ large boots echoing off the floors outside of your room like a steed of chariots. “Go on.”

“The king will ensure your survival, princess. One of the greatest and his padawan has been sent to ensure your departure will be successful.”

“Departure? He wishes for me to leave?” you asked, almost in disbelief as her hands dropped from your back.

The war only got louder, the walls seeming to shake as the fires only grew outside, catching your gaze once again. The screams were inescapable as Bakura burned to the ground.

“He wishes for you to survive,” she said, tone firm.

Your fists loosened, falling to your sides in the devastation that you were expected to flee to survive while the rest of your people burned and were killed… their existence sure to mean nothing by the end of the war. The Clone Wars had claimed far too many planets and innocence at that point. An anger, a sense of guilt squelched at your possibility of living while your father, the king, went down with his people, his empire.

You didn’t wish to be a coward. You didn’t wish to flee, even if with it was the promise of survival.

It was not fair, yet exactly how the ex-Jedi would deem to have it.

They had too much hope for their own good, you thought with a permanent furrow in your brow, tucking the long strands of hair back behind your ears and out of the way. Lips pulled into a fine line, you felt the energy and the particles align as if the force itself was speaking to you, to the Jedi blood coarsing within your pulse.

A Jedi must not have any attachments.

A Jedi must put others needs before his own.

A Jedi must not partake in anger, in fear, or aggression.

You bowed your head then, a series of guilt appearing at the mere thought of the Jedi code that still no doubt laced upon the king of Bakura’s back.

In that moment, you hated him for that.

With anger suddenly reverberating within your veins and a huff along your parted lips, you took the long black cloak from Sora and wrapped it around your shoulders, slipping your arms in each sleeve. Taking the hood within your nimble fingers, you pulled it up and onto your head, concealing what you could in case the halls had been invaded already.

Turning, you shared one last longing glance with the handmaiden, one who had devoted her young life to being a caretaker as well as your source of company. You nodded solemnly, “I thank you for your service to the royal family.”

At that point far aware of the glassiness in her eyes and the loss that had already been stained upon history, you felt the chokeful dread that had a hold of you at that moment. With so much uncertainty, you turned away, fingers grasping the cloak tightly, and left the room. Chambers that once had been yours, but now never would be again.

The brick-tiled floors of the capital’s hallways were flooded with soldiers of Bakura, the most trusted, all dressed in armor, grey and blue helmets concealing their faces, their identities. A simple nod was sent their way as you turned down the spiraling hallway, feeling as if doom was upon you, a slow march to death though you had been told otherwise. The building shook, the walls quaking with despair as you followed the army up and into the main corridors of the capital, separate from the royal family’s chambers. The brick turned to grey stone, white towering walls made of metal, and the windows were all concealed behind large doors of steal.

You came upon the war room, the place of perpetual decisions, the place you knew he would be the most protected in the capital’s final moments. Pulse quickening, eyes dazed, you felt it again — the frustration, the immense anger — a type you didn’t realize you could ever feel. With narrowed eyes, your hands released around the cloak and up into the air. Waving in the direction of the doors, the doors flung open, slamming loudly. It was almost as if the force was apologetic, leaning into your feelings.

Sure enough, as you stepped through the threshold, the king stood near the table, a shield of dark grey armor covering every part of him but his face. A face wrinkled in nothing but despair. Silence overcame the bustle of protectors, and suddenly, you found the eyes of the man at his side.

There he was as if like a savior.

The Jedi — one of the greatest, and the very man who happened to be your father’s closest confidant.

Obi-Wan Kenobi.

A savior with long hair and pale eyes, dressed in tan tunics of his own, his saber held securely at his waist.

You hadn’t seen the man since you were a mere child, a man who could’ve very well been an uncle to you and a protector at the headway of your mother’s death only a few years before, and yet he stood there a bewildered look on his face as if he had felt it. Felt your anger from a few rooms away.

The king faced you, a look of grief evident, and regret as he noticed the betrayal upon yours. He didn’t look away from you as he leaned over and spoke to Obi-Wan. “My dear friend, I ask of you to take my daughter. You haven’t much time as the rebels have just managed to break through the front gates. Time can only be in our favor for so long.”

As Kenobi moved near you, his palm outstretched, you stood your ground, “No!”

“My sweet daughter—”

You shook your head, that tightened expression refusing to let up, “I will not just abandon my people, abandon you, my king.”

It was as if the look he gave you then was one of disappointment rather than pride. As if he had wished to raise you to be a coward. Jedis, don’t run, you thought. Queens don’t leave. “Father, please.”

“Y/N—”

You interrupted again, “I cannot leave you to die.”

His face fell, the great and powerful king deflating just at the single look on your face — from his greatest love. Sadness swirled within his irises, and though it could have very well been the very last time you would ever look your father in the face, you couldn’t move. You couldn’t grasp his hand or pull him in for one last embrace. You were far too stubborn. Far too angry, then.

He stepped closer, but you only took a step back because this was a fight you wouldn’t be able to win as time was wading by each moment; it wasn’t something that was in your favor then. He sighed, “I can’t fail you too, my child. I failed your mother, and I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I lost you too.”

Your mouth parted, a single tear falling from your cold steel eyes, just as a burst of static filled your ears. The com-system interlocked upon Kenobi’s waist began to illuminate, and loudly, drowning out everything else as a voice propelled through.

“Master! They are invading. I repeat they are beginning to storm the capital. I don’t know how much longer we’ll be able to hold them off.”

His padawan.

Obi-Wan, held the side button of the com and lifted it to his face, unable to look away from the sad parting between father and daughter, “Hold your ground, my strong padawan. We’ll be to you in just a few short minutes.”

As he clipped the com back into place he cleared his throat, “We must go. Time is falling away from our side. Princess…”

“Father, don’t do this.” It was your final plea.

There was nothing left to say.

His eyes tore away from yours, and you felt a small part of yourself break then and wither away beneath the confines of your walls. The emotion was gone from his face, weakness shoved away where you could no longer see it. He waved off some of the nearby soldiers to get into position — to be able to escort you and Obi safely to the main entrance.

A small whimper fell from your parted lips as he looked then at Obi. “You must go now!”

Obi nodded but hesitated, feet stopping after a few short steps. He turned, peering over his shoulder to share one last final look with the former Jedi.

“I commend you, my dear friend,” your father wished farewell, his hand lifting up near his face and down as if in a form of respect, “May the force be with you.”

“And you, my king,” he returned, before approaching you with fast steps, his hand taking a hold of your forearm firmly.

“No, no, please,” you cried out, trying to fight Obi-Wan as he began to pull you from the room. You tried as the fleeting image of your father across the room is all you would have in departing, his glare somehow hard and cold, “Father!”

The doors slammed shut in your face, echoing like a final coo of death. You collapsed in the Jedi’s arms, all exertion and passion gone from the confines of your chest. Nothing would remain.

Peering up, slumped against his figure, the halls were bathed in darkness. The electricity had been cut, yet the alarms remained, loudly echoing, screaming in agony while the light the dark red reflected across your skin — somehow matching the anger and rage that pulsed within your body. A sense of resentment for the king, for this Jedi who pulled you through the halls, leading you away from your death, from your planet, from your former life.

Bakura was destined to burn that night, to fall, to whither into ashes, and yet its future queen would not. All that remained was anger, frustration, and resentment.

#anakin skywalker #anakin x reader #star wars anakin #anakin fanfiction #anakin skywalker x reader #Star Wars imagine #star wars fanfiction #anakin series #hayden christensen #hayden christensen x reader #divider by cafekitsune #banner by cafekitsune

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forever--darling · 3 months

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senator amidala

summary: while obi-wan lectures anakin over & over it seems, you find yourself unable to do anything but look more into your vision, & the story behind the stars. just when you feel as if you are getting some answers, forces shift at the addition of a new mission as well as someone from anakin's past.

pairings: anakin skywalker x jedi!reader

word count: 8.1k

warnings/notes: mention of war, of death, mention of clone wars, mention of reader's past life, swearing, soulmate au, teasingaotc!anakin, anakin skywalker x padmé amidala, angst, jealousy, the beginning of a long unforeseen slow burn

series masterlist | 04

“Are you going to say anything or just sit there looking at me like that?” Anakin asked, his arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the wall of the training room, unable to look away from the glowered look that had overtaken his Master’s face. “Master?”

Obi-Wan sat in a rolling chair, his legs stiffly stuck to the floor and a certain knot forming between his eyebrows, that frown of his peeking through his beard. He didn’t even move or react when Anakin huffed out annoyingly, glancing towards the door and the closed blinds. Obi-Wan found him to be acting like a child then as he refused to have patience, refused to sit there in silence, but almost needed to in every way defy even the sole look that was being sent his way.

Anakin raised his hands in the air, irritated by the impending silence; it not going to make a difference one way or another when his Master finally decided to open his mouth and scold him. It would be just as scornful either way, and the young Chosen One didn’t have it in himself to do anything else but keep talking, “It’s not like—”

“Don’t,” Obi-Wan snapped lifting his pointer finger in the young Jedi’s direction, “Don’t you try and lie to me right now.”

“I’m not. Nothing happened, and nothing was going to happen.”

“Huh, so you’re just telling me you were laying on her for what?” Obi-Wan replied back, the sarcasm thick, so parent-like despite Anakin being an adult. “Of course, you don’t think of me as that stupid, Anakin.”

“I don’t, Master,” Anakin agreed, sighing slightly as he pushed off from the wall to approach his Master, “It’s just I did nothing to go against the code. I need you to know that, and I won’t.”

“How can I trust you?” Obi-Wan deflated, the statement alone causing Anakin to shift in fear, waning at the very thing he never thought he would hear, “I can’t look at the two of you together the same anymore. I’m aware you have a connection, one that is deemed stronger than I realized, but how can you assure me one hundred percent that it’s nothing more?”

“Nothing more…” Anakin’s words trailed off, the accusation something he hadn’t let cross his mind longer than it should. He couldn’t. He knew that. “It’s not. I can assure you.”

Obi-Wan leaned forward, his elbows finding a place along his knees, that frown lessening as he took in the wide-eyed expression on Anakin’s face. The younger Jedi’s brows rose then, the words once again slipping to provide as much comfort to his Master as he could, “She hasn’t been sleeping, Master. It’s been this way for a few months now. I can’t help but know when something is bothering her. Neither of us understands it, but I can’t ignore it. I wanted to show her the younglings’ training room, that is all. Something to get her mind off of everything.”

“The trials, included?” Obi-Wan asked, recalling his conversation with you that day prior after having seen you and Anakin together.

“The trials?” Anakin’s brows furrowed for a moment, “Right, yes, the trials. She talked to you about them.”

“Yes, and I don’t think it’s a good idea. She won’t be ready. It would be nearly impossible.”

“Right, I suppose that’s true.”

There was a lull, a sudden shift in conversation towards you, what had been keeping you up for months, for all this time, but did either of them really know? Anakin felt as if your connection was stronger, and he was able to indulge in your feelings no matter when and where he was, even going as far as to be able to hear some of your thoughts, the way they scavenged for peace. He felt as if a piece of you had been broken off and given to him, and yet he couldn’t help but feel like there was more going on in that pretty head of yours. As if there was more to the dark circles under your eyes and the steady glances you sent his way throughout the day.

There was more, and yet he couldn't in any way try and explain it to Obi-Wan. Especially when no one, even your Master, wouldn’t be able to understand these strange feelings that plagued the both of you. It was different from mere senses or being a Jedi. He couldn’t, not without it sounding wrong, not without proving his Master right.

“And what about me?” Anakin found himself unable to ask.

“What about you?”

“The trials,” he corrected, having not talked about it with his Master in almost half a year, “I feel as if I’m ready.”

“Oh, my young apprentice, there is still much to learn in the upcoming months. More than you realize,” Obi-Wan smiled comfortingly, suddenly charmed slightly by the young Jedi’s ambitions.

“You don’t think I am ready, Master?” Anakin found a knot forming in his chest, one from frustration, for the second time in a matter of minutes. Obi-Wan had already professed to not just trusting Anakin with you, but what about the trials? What about his respectability as a Jedi?

“It’s not that, my Padawan. It’s that you are still very unpredictable. You have far less experience than most Padawans do when they compete in the trials. I have no doubt you can get there but in due time. Where there is less experience, you must make up with wisdom and caution.”

Anakin was angry and disappointed but, at most, worried. Had he been too crass, too big of himself to assume he would be in the trials that year? He thought not. He thought he had proved himself time and time again to Obi-Wan, especially when it came to you. He had protected you, ensured your comfort, and became someone, anyone you could at least have. He had done what any Jedi should when caring for someone on a mission.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan mumbled out sadly after a few lingering seconds, his eyes cast over at the Chosen One at the position he was put in, “What shall you have me do about this? The two of you?”

He had reverted the conversation away from the trials and back to the situation at hand.

“I wasn’t aware anything had to be done, Master.”

“I don’t want to but I can’t help but fear the consequences in the future if I do nothing.”

“Trust me, Master. There is nothing going on between me and her. You have my word,” Anakin replied, his eyes refusing to blink or look away from Obi-Wan, afraid of what he would do. Afraid that somehow you would be separated, or things would change. “I’m only trying to protect her.”

Another lull between them, a second where Anakin couldn’t do anything else but wait, analyzing his Master’s expressions. It was then Obi-Wan nodded, shoulders relaxing back within his seat, unwilling to really do anything else but accept what he was being told. The force favored the two of you together, Obi-Wan could feel that. Felt it not long after you were brought to the temple. You both were strong, wise, and sometimes oblivious, but you were better when together than apart. You challenged Anakin, kept the Chosen One in line, and were a companion more than anything else. Obi-Wan had no inclination to truly do more than warn the young Jedi.

“Alright then,” Obi-Wan said, backing down under the intense blue haze that was Anakin’s eyes. But he stopped him as the Padawan turned to leave, “Anakin?”

“Yes, Master?”

“Go find Y/N and bring her here, please. I want her present when we meet with the Senator.”

“The Senator?” he asked, brows furrowing as he stood frozen near the door, seeming unaware of the meeting himself.

“Yes, Senator Amidala will be here later this afternoon to meet with us. I want her there, got it?”

Anakin’s eyes widened, mouth parting softly unable to even answer his Master’s question. He was suddenly stuck, unable to get much further than the name that was uttered so professionally. Anakin felt his pulse speed up, and his stomach clenched in nerves.

Senator Amidala.

He had never thought the day would finally come. After ten years, it finally had.

“Padmé? She will be here in the city?”

“Yes.”

“Why? What does she require of us?” He couldn’t help but ask.

Obi-Wan sighed, able to hear the breathiness in the young man’s voice, his attention shifted entirely to the one he had never seemed to forget, “I am not sure, my apprentice, but we shall see. Alright, so go on.”

“Are you an angel?”

“What?”

“An angel. I’ve heard the deep space pilots talk about them. They live on the moons of lego, I think. They’re the most beautiful creatures in the universe.”

The air was stiff, the smell of the old archives enough to have you biting down on your lower lip. The basement of the public archives building was dusty and cold, cold for the amount of worn leather that sat in between the shelves. The shelves decorated with everything that hadn’t been recoded into holograms or online files. Your robes were loose around your frame, and you found yourself pulling them tight around your chest as the attendant led you through the maze of shelves.

He stops in a far corner and goes down a hall between two shelves; it is so slim you wouldn’t be able to walk with two people side by side. Near the middle of the shelf, he pointed up towards the upper two halves, “This is all that we have. These two top shelves should have everything you’re looking for.”

You nodded, eyes already scraping over the aging binds, reading the heathered titles with ease, heart in your throat.

Stars of L’âme

They were what led you to be sitting in a small corner of the public archives, at a desk hidden behind a few towering shelves, the desktop covered with a small stack of books, some thicker and older than you realized. It had been almost an hour, an hour of you flipping through pages, all while the words from your grandmother echoed within your head.

“Two lost souls. That is something to remember most of all. This act is never random. This choice by the greater powers of our worlds. It is never a mere act of happening but by some sort of fate itself.”

“This sounds crazy,” you thought out loud as you read the descriptions of the particle examinations of the two stars as well as the whole ten pages that hypothesize how they were created outside of the stellar nurseries.

Flipping through another book next to it, you opened it to a random page to find a drawing peering back at you. One where it showed the stars as they were now, unaligned, one favoring the left and the other right. A second drawing mirrored the one next to it, but this one found the stars to almost be stacked upon one another, aligned to create two shining orbs. A small passage was found under the picture, and you realized as you read that this book took on a more mythical viewpoint of the stars.

One that sounded like a fable unable to fully be true and yet you found yourself leaning into every single word.

“The Stars of L’âme, having outlived centuries of people, have left the rest of us in mere darkness over the two stars regarding the possibilities and ideal scientific creations; more so how they only coalign every one hundred years. Whose its makers we can’t know, but one can be noted without reason or the ability to ignore — the physics and angling. As it is said and stated, only when the two souls it mirrors finally find one another, their hearts aligning is when the stars are found to finally shift. The previous separation of the stars follows the physical and emotional separation of the two souls prior to understanding the truth. Once both of the intended souls have passed onto the next life, the stars scatter again awaiting for their next love story within the following century.”

It sounded impossible, you couldn’t fathom the logistics as you chewed on your bottom lip, sure to leave it torn and bleeding. The rest of the world seemed to blur along the edges, the confines of reality shifting as you wished, almost pleading for your grandmother to appear — to deny this allegation altogether, to fully set all of your worries to rest. What about the stars did she want to tell you?

It all sounded like a fate that was sure to catch up with you.

Sighing, you pushed the book away, inhaling to ease the sudden anxiety that had formed, while you pulled another one from the stack. Skimming through the table of contents, you felt your fingers fumble over the names that were presented on the page. Immediately flipping to it, you found yourself on the edge of your seat, unable to ignore the picture printed within it of a couple, the last who claimed to have been the heirs of the Stars of L’âme. They seemed normal, full of admiration as they stared at one another.

Their birth years, you hummed in interest. It was exactly a hundred years before your own.

Your fingers traced over the young woman’s face, it seeming not much older than you were now. She was beautiful and, more than anything, beautifully in love. Peering down at the page, you took them in but felt your stomach fall slightly as you noticed it.

A set of matching scars along their forearms, just as long and thick, matching in every way from the pale coloring to the way it extended from their wrist to halfway across their forearms. Your brows raised in interest, beginning to read the passages that followed, throat tightened at the mere possibilities of what that could have meant.

You had only gotten halfway through the first page, which hadn’t revealed any new information or anything about the scars when you felt two hands take hold of your chair behind you. You jumped slightly at the feeling of their thumbs pressed along your shoulder blades and their looming form along your back.

“Hey.” The voice startled you, but you relaxed instantly at the familiarity paired with the softness of it.

Glancing up, you met those blue eyes of his, staring down at yours with piqued interest, that smirk of his forming as he took in how he had scared you. You must not have felt him approaching, both surprised by it and not knowing that when your mind was so occupied in anything else, you didn’t hear or feel anything that was close to you.

You smacked his hand slightly, heart rising and falling in surprise, “What are you doing?”

“Me?” he laughed, eyes flickering over the stacks of books spread along the desk, “What are you doing?”

Feeling suddenly overwhelmed, you began to close the books around you, ignoring his question altogether, “Nothing I just—”

“Please, I could feel you deep in your thoughts from three miles away,” Anakin chuckled, leaning even more over your shoulder, his brows furrowing as he tried to catch sight of what you were reading about, his eyes finding the black and white picture of the couple staring back at him, “What has you thinking so fucking hard?”

“Anakin,” you warned, trying to close the book before he could take it but his hand smacked against the page of the book enough that it echoed in the small corner of the archives. His brows furrowed slightly down at you while his other hand firmly took a hold of your wrist to stop you from trying to take it.

“The Stars of L’âme,” he read outline, the foreign word a struggle upon his tongue, but he understood enough to peer back over you and your slumped frame, a sheepish look appearing across your face. “Y/N…”

Feeling his impending stare and the sudden speed of your pulse, you were ripping your hand out of his and taking the book from him. Closing it loudly, you shoved it to the other side of the desk with all the rest, some you hadn’t even gotten to yet.

“It’s nothing okay,” you urged but he could see right through you. It was the easiest thing.

“Right, nothing. It’s not like, it has you sneaking off here in the middle of the day. It’s about your vision, isn’t it?” he asked, leaning down further, his arm hanging off your shoulder, the small touch feeling like too much at that moment.

“We don’t know if it was vision,” you argued, but at the sudden curl of his lips, it was clear he didn’t believe it to be anything other than that.

“Well, you could have told me, you know. I could’ve helped,” he offered carefully, with no sarcasm or teasing tone in sight. It had your heart softening, your embarrassment fading enough that you were sure your resolve would follow.

You were scared, though. Scared of what you would find out. Scared that this strange connection with him had something to do with this. You were just scared, period.

“No, you couldn’t have,” you replied, the tone and your words stinging him slightly evident in the slight cringe that appeared on his face.

He ignored it. “Well, did you find anything?”

“No, not anything useful.”

Before he could say anything else, his eyes just searching yours, you found yourself picking at your nails, a sense of nervousness forming. “What are you doing here?”

“Obi-Wan sent me to find you,” he said, not missing a single beat.

You straightened up, “What?”

“It’s fine,” he noticed the panic right away, enough that his hand slipped to your shoulder with ease, his torso somehow pressed along your back enough that you relaxed, “We just have to get back. Senator Amidala will be arriving soon.”

“A Senator?”

Even as you said it, you couldn’t ignore the sudden pause that appeared as Anakin said her name. Like he had to prepare how to exactly say it. The corners of his lips quirked up slightly, and it caused your stomach to twist slightly, a sick feeling appearing at the implications of what that could mean. Not quite understanding it.

“Yeah, she has requested a meeting with us for some reason. Master just wants us back to prepare for her arrival.”

You wanted to ask more, deter from this task at hand, and put your attention back into the books, but you knew you couldn’t. Not then. Not with him there. Not when you both possibly had been assigned to something by the council. It was the only reason that came to mind that you were meeting with this Senator. It filled you with dread, a sudden uneasiness forming at the responsibility that could possibly linger.

There was nothing else to do though but nod and stand from the small desk. With one stack of books in your hands and the other in Anakin’s you returned them to the attendant, thanking him, before following Anakin out of the public archives. His eyes followed yours for a brief moment before he lead you further into the city towards the temple.

His attention drifted, you felt it first. In your chest, the way that string between you seemed to wane slightly while he stared forward, voice silent. A furrowed expression played along his features, one that had you mesmerized, able to feel the weight of his deep thoughts but without the implications of them. Still a few blocks from the temple, you couldn’t help but ask.

“What is it?”

Your voice, almost like a solace, pulled his eyes to you, a mere hum emitting from his pink lips.

“I can see your brain turning over there. Can practically feel it suffocating me as well, so what is it?”

“It’s nothing,” he replied, the same words you had said to him before in the pubic archives hitting you hard.

“Ani…”

“I’m just wondering why they require us, is all? What the council wants from us?” he explained, but you couldn’t believe him.

Not when a sudden thickness seemed to appear in your chest from the mere effect on him upon even mentioning the Senator’s name. A devastation that seemed to only weigh heavier on you the longer you sat in silence, it only being confirmed as you stood in the elevator of Senator Amidala’s building, leading you, Anakin, and Master Kenobi up to her penthouse.

Her name was one you had heard of; it was hard not to when you previously had a life involved within government, often needing to interact with the Senate, yet you couldn’t place her face with the name. You hadn’t met, that you were sure of, and yet the sudden thought of doing so left you afraid. Afraid as silence loomed with Anakin’s foot tapping unsteadily and his breath uneasy.

You turned to look at him as he began to brush his hands along his robes, smoothing out any wrinkles. Obi-Wan noticed it, too, and met your stare with a certain smile you couldn’t place. As if he knew something you didn’t or rather found amusement from the Padawan’s actions.

“You seem a little on edge,” Obi-Wan said then, gaining Anakin’s nervous attention.

“Not at all,” Anakin denied, his eyes somehow flickering to yours, able to feel you staring at him.

“I haven’t felt you this tense since we fell into that nest of Gundarks.”

“You fell into that nightmare, Master, and I rescued you, remember?” He was smug about it, but only slightly.

“Oh, yes.”

You found yourself subtly bumping your arm with Anakin's, while Master didn’t react as you imagined he would. Instead, a deep-setted laugh appeared one that caused Anakin to start laughing as well, even as his blue eyes flickered over to your form, still leaning close to him.

Shaking his head at his Master, Obi-Wan set his sights back on the Padawan, barely even acknowledging your close presence. “You’re sweating. Relax. Take a deep breath.”

Obi-Wan watched the subtle interaction that occurred then. The way your face furrowed in confusion, almost a slight worry pulling your lips into a fine line, and a hesitancy on Anakin’s part. His head tilted slightly in your direction, and you found his blue orbs looking at you from the corner of his eye before replying.

“I haven’t seen her in ten years, Master,” he admitted, exhaling slowly, his nerves so palpable then.

A small smile appeared on Obi-Wan’s face, and you couldn’t come to understand it, the slight amusement that appeared over Anakin’s nervousness. You couldn’t, not as your own reaction was barely hideable. You turned to face the elevator doors in front of you, feeling suddenly inclined to take a step away from Anakin, enough that your arm was no longer brushing his.

A thought that you couldn’t ignore even when the three of you stepped off the elevator to greet a Junior Representative who went by Jar Jar. The tall lanky creature bypassed your attention rather quickly as you couldn’t help but keep sending glances over to Anakin.

Worst of all, you didn’t even know why you cared so much. What about this Senator could have you so uncomfortable? Threatened over what? Your time with Anakin.

What good would it do anymore?

Surely Master Obi-Wan would do something to come between the two of you to ensure his spot on the council stays and, in his mind, keep the two of you from violating the code.

Your feet dragged slightly across the floor, even as Jar Jar led you away from the elevator into another room of the penthouse, revealing a few figures standing off by the windows. You inhaled slowly to find one of them turn, and a smile appeared across her face. She had to have been the Senator, and it brought a certain nervous twitch in your fingers.

She was young. Young and beautiful and elegant. Everything that a representative was supposed to be. Everything that a queen was supposed to be; in her long dress, decorated in glitter and the finest materials with her hair pulled back out of her face, drawing attention to her soft features. Hiding slightly behind Anakin, body turned away from him, you watched as Obi-Wan bowed to greet her. “Pleasure to see you again, my lady.”

“It’s been far too long, Master Kenobi,” she greeted back, her voice mature, sounding professional, and as if it was going to hold Anakin’s attention forever. It seemed he had gotten hers, too, as she looked over Obi-Wan’s shoulder, a curious smile forming at the sight before her, “Ani?”

The mere shortened version of his name curling from her tongue so effortlessly brought another wave of shock through you, one that stung far worse than you realized. Even as it sounded so casual, so perfect, that he had to step forward a shy smile of his own forming unable to keep his eyes from taking her in.

“My goodness you’ve grown.”

“So have you. Grown more beautiful, I mean,” he admitted, it slipping enough to have everyone’s eyes on him, “Well, for a Senator, I mean.”

He chuckled awkwardly, trying to rid the surprised look of awe that appeared on his face. She smiled back one bashful as they both noted the way Obi-Wan glanced over his shoulder to you in slight understanding. One you hadn’t known for sure until then. That, in fact, this Senator, Senator Amidala, knew Anakin, and he very much knew her.

“Huh Ani, you’ll always be that little boy I knew in Tatooine.”

His expression faltered; you saw it in the way his shoulders dropped, his smile faltering at her subtly shutting down his advances. Quickly, a mere blip as she then noticed you, too, lingering back behind the taller man, fingers folded together. She looked at the robes, the tight-fitting navy ones that appeared somehow pretty on you, and the way your hair was pulled tightly out of your face, revealing a complexion that seemed so clear.

Her dark brow arched in curiosity, finding you already looking at her, “I’m afraid we haven’t ever met.”

Sighing, you stepped forward, already able to feel both expectant looks from the two of me in front of you. Obi-Wan, taking hold of your forearm, gently brought you closer, enough that you were standing in between him and Anakin, suddenly feeling trapped and under the watchful gaze of the Senator.

Her eyes glanced from Anakin to you, the way his attention suddenly seemed to be on your profile, trying to take in everything about your expression.

“This is my second Padawan—”

“Second?” Padmé chuckled in surprise, “You have two now? I wasn’t sure if that was even allowed.”

“There are exceptions. The Council granted me this one ask.”

Her smile widened then, eyes never leaving yours as she spoke, “Lucky Ani. I’m sure the extra challenge benefits him.”

It was then she stepped closer, offering an outstretched hand to you. With a second of hesitation, you met her advance, slipping your own hand in hers for her to shake.

“Senator Padmé Amidala.”

You nodded, “Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N.”

At the sound of your name, it seeming so long since it was even pronounced out loud together, her hand stopped, the shaking ceasing while a curious look now filling her eyes, one of recognition slightly. “Y/L/N?”

“Yes?”

“Hm, that’s a familiar name, one I feel is common. Have we, by chance, met before?” she observed, eyes glancing to the two men on the other side of you. Anakin’s hands tightened, a furrow appearing between his brows as he looked between her and you. His jaw ticked as he met the Senator’s gaze.

It was then, the Padawan stepped forward, blocking you slightly from her and her questions. His body broke your hand from hers, and you couldn’t help but questionably share a look with your Master as Anakin interrupted, “We should sit down, my lady. Talk about why we’re really here.”

You looked expectantly from Anakin over to Obi-Wan to find another wave of confusion pass over his features. But no one dared to say anything against the Chosen One and entered the living room. Sitting across from the Senator, you somehow once again were sat between the two men. They both leaned in, attention put fully on Padmé, and though you should have been doing the same, a discomfort had formed in your chest. So much so that your mind seemed to drift elsewhere, to the Padawan sat next to you more so.

Why had he not told you he had known Senator Amidala? What could have been within their past that he hadn’t or wished not to? There was something he wasn’t telling you clearly by the way Obi-Wan had been alluding to his nerves in the elevator. Even when you had asked him earlier, before arriving, what had been on his mind, he had brushed you off. Something he hadn’t done in months, not since before you two had come to terms with what it meant being Padawans alongside one another. Even as you could feel the gentleness of his pulse quickening while his eyes doted on her, he still tried to hide it from you.

“I don’t need more security. I need answers. I want to know who is trying to kill me.”

“We’re here to protect you, Senator,” Obi-Wan assured, “Not to start an investigation.”

You found yourself lulling away, not able to pay attention until Anakin spoke up from beside you with such a conviction that it had you staring at him, jaw tense. “We will find out who is trying to kill you, Padmé. I promise you.”

You felt Obi-Wan peering past you at Anakin, taken aback himself but the sudden response that was pulled so freely from the young man without even a simple thought. “We will not exceed our mandate, my young Padawan learner.”

Anakin ignored the looks the both of you were giving him, instead finding much of his focus back on the beautiful Senator, “I meant it in the interest of protecting her, Master. Of course.”

“We will not go through this exercise again, Anakin,” Obi-Wan scolded; it was enough to have both you and the Senator following the small squealing match between the two men, “And you will pay attention to my lead.”

“Why? Why else do you think we were assigned to her if not to find the killer. Protection is a job for local security, not Jedi. It’s overkill, Master. Investigation is implied in our mandate,” he challenged, and you couldn’t stop yourself then but to reach over and pinch his arm through his robes. He stiffened under your sudden touch, a frown appearing across his lips as he hissed, “Ow. What?”

You sent him a warning look, brows furrowed slightly as you sensed the frustrations and slight embarrassment at the reality of Anakin defying Obi-Wan in front of others, especially Senator Amidala. He was trying to be prideful, show off his wisdom and bravery in turn to holding her attention.

“We will do exactly as the council has instructed,” Obi-Wan stated.

Anakin looked away from you at the sight of your soft glare to find the eyes of your Master. Silence filled the room then, a waiting game of who would back down first.

“And you will learn your place young one.”

There was another pause, a moment where Anakin’s lip folded into itself into a small pout, his head bowing slightly under the intense gaze of Obi-Wan. Your Master took a second to exhale, letting the frustrations fade as he turned back to face the Senator, her eyes still glancing between the two men.

“Perhaps with merely your presence, the mystery surrounding this threat will be revealed,” she said, breaking the tensions slightly, but you found yourself stiffening at the sight of her soft gaze meeting Anakin’s sunken form. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I will retire.”

The Senator stood with her Representatives following, as well as Obi-Wan, who bowed in a sign of respect. You felt frozen, though, feet glued to the ground even as Anakin had stood too. You felt your Master’s eyes on you then, a gentle glare settling along the side of your face, but you could only stare forward, up at the Senator, stomach clenched, a dread looming over your head. One that had begun as soon as Anakin had even said her name in the public archives. Senator Amidala.

Knowing how disrespectful you were being, you stood, hands folded gently behind your back. She took you in once more, a curious glint forming, and before you had even realized, she was smiling softly, “Actually, before I do. Y/N, is it? May I speak with you for a minute? I believe I owe you the honor of becoming more acquainted.”

The air had been sucked from your lungs. That’s what you believed as you stood with your mouth becoming dryer by the second as all eyes in the room found you, your frame taller than the Senator and yet seeming suddenly afraid. It wasn’t that you were afraid of her, or her status. You were supposed to be the next queen of Bakura, there was no one who could intimidate you by their power alone. No, the truth was you were afraid of her because of Anakin, because of how he had blatantly felt about her, always had it seemed.

Obi-Wan was staring at you expectantly, and you knew that you couldn’t deny the Senator of this request, especially considering you were as much her protector as the rest of them. But you were hesitant, it only deepening as you felt a warm palm suddenly pressed along your lower back. Even though your thick robes, the touch was so much, almost making your skin vibrate at its sudden appearance.

Glancing up at Anakin, his towering frame too became way too much, his blue eyes set on yours suddenly, almost like it had been the first time since you both had entered the room with the Senator. He was hesitant to let you go, something you didn’t understand then because how could you?

Offering him a gentle nod, you smiled towards the Senator, who had silently been watching the interaction, curious, it seemed, by the intentions behind Anakin’s lingering touch. You wouldn’t grant her any more time to think about it as you gestured towards the door for her to lead the way. She seemed pleased, and as you followed her out of the sitting room, you could feel the Chosen One’s intense gaze stained across your back the whole entire walk out of the room.

“He’s protective,” she said then, as soon as you had rounded the corner into a nearby hall, away from everyone else.

Her observation had you almost tripping over your feet, as well as over the possibility that she had only asked to speak to you to talk about Anakin. It made your blood settle, an inkling of nerves appearing in your chest of how this all would go.

Something in you told you, it would all fall apart. Maybe not now, or tomorrow, but eventually and you would be the one left crumbled away in the dust.

You tried to smile, but you found it more so resembled a cringe, “Yes, he is. Though at times he doesn’t need to be.”

She hummed then as if it was something she could relate to and understand completely. “He only means well. Has been told his whole life of those he must protect, of his responsibilities presented from the prophecy.”

“Yes, but I must say it can be too much. It feels as if he is undermining me in front of you Senator, but I guess he can’t quite help it.”

Her dark brow arched then, interest piquing as your admission slipped. Noticing the way she waited, waited for you to explain, you felt your face fall, cheeks heating up at what you had done. It was something you knew Anakin wished people didn’t know about. Who you were before you arrived at the temple and became a Padawan in training. He worried about what could happen if people knew, knew that the princess of Bakura was alive. Yet, you couldn’t help but reveal it all to her, the woman who held his attention so easily just from her presence alone. She wouldn’t ever have to speak, and you knew Anakin wouldn’t care — just to stare at her all day would be a privilege in his eyes.

“Y/L/N,” she said it as almost a mere whisper, as if she was trying to place it, the familiarity, the essence behind the name. A name that once filled you with so much power. “I know it from somewhere. I know I do. I suppose there is a reason, isn’t there? Why did Anakin stop me from asking before? Why he is so protective?”

“Senator, you have to understand, I wasn’t always a Jedi. I only became Master Kenobi’s Padawan some time ago,” you exhaled then, knowing there was no way around it, not if she would be there everyday intervening in every interaction, in every sole moment you once had with him to yourself, “My father sent Obi-Wan and Anakin to me under dire circumstances.”

“Y/L/N,” she repeated it slowly, almost afraid to say it out loud, but as she heard it, the sound of it coming from her own tongue, her eyes widened in realization. “Your father, Y/F/N Y/L/N, the king of Bakura.”

“You understand then? Why. He is protective, Senator, but merely out of obligation." You, unable to stop yourself from letting the truth spill over and over, said it so casually as if to put more distance between you and Anakin, an explanation for his affection.

“I can see why you would see it that way, but you have to know for Ani, it is never out of obligation,” she explained softly, her expression unreadable as she spoke of him, “Though it’s been years since we parted, I know that he doesn’t take the weight of it on thoughtlessly. He is very passionate; he doesn’t act unless it is in accordance with his heart. And for what it’s worth, I offer my deepest condolences, your highness.”

You sighed, only able to offer a sad smile, chest clenching at the title, one you only heard now when Anakin wished to tease you, sure to bring a smile to your face. It sounded so wrong then coming from her, far too formal for a person you only shared a resemblance to. You weren’t her anymore, the princess, the future queen. You felt as if it was a life you hadn’t even lived.

“A princess turned Jedi,” she chuckled, somehow it never once sounded cruel. It couldn’t, you knew that, even with Anakin swooning over the sight of her, the sudden twang that appeared within your chest, nothing she ever did could be done out of cruelty. “That’s a very powerful thing. I can tell by the way you’re looking at me, you haven’t accepted that yet.”

You couldn’t accept anything she was saying to you, your mind drifting rather to the loud feelings one room away, the way they were hurt like a puppy that had just been kicked — somehow losing all respectability because of one woman.

“Well, I will leave you,” she offered then, noting the frown across your face, “I shall retire for the night, but just know, I am glad Master Kenobi and Ani were able to promise your protection as well as they will mine.”

With one last smile, one just as radiant as all the rest, you watched her retreat further into the hall towards the elevator. As soon as her presence was gone, you exhaled, no relief felt at the sudden challenge that this mission had brought. It seemed it all would be different then, even down to the pull you felt in your chest when it came to Anakin Skywalker.

Perhaps Obi-Wan had been right.

Perhaps the stars were right, too, about something you couldn’t quite explain for any other reason.

Yet you knew it couldn’t be, not even if you were to outlive the pain that surely would succumb to you if it were true.

Evident enough, as you stepped back into the room, Obi-Wan’s frame retreated with one of the Senator’s security and Anakin still where you had left him, in the middle of the room, that worried expression still present on his face. You approached slowly, his back turned to you, leaving nothing but the small ponytail and the swallowing robes to be remembered in your mind for that moment. An urgency was evident in his frame, something you could feel and sense even before you had heard his voice, even before you had heard what he said.

The very thing you hadn’t expected or wished to ever hear again.

“I’ve thought about her every day since we’ve parted, and she’s forgotten me completely.”

You couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. You felt confined to that one spot, even as the bustle continued around you. As people filtered in and out of the room, you couldn’t fucking move. You thought you would’ve been fine. Come nightfall, come the time when the lights within the large penthouse were dimmed, nothing but a few lamps allowing the city to really glow and the stars to be vibrant. Yet as you sat there, knees hugged closely to your chest, it still felt different, suddenly everything did. In a matter of one day, the mere act of staring up at the sky could no longer provide comfort. Especially as a certain dullness seemed to ignite within your chest that hadn’t been there before.

“Master has gone to check the perimeter. The corridors are clear, too. How are things up here?”

His voice was too much for you, somehow pulling you from the depths of your mind. You didn’t look away from the window. You wouldn’t, not even as his footsteps echoed along the floor, his frame so close then and towering over you. He was warm and always had been far too inviting for you. It was annoying.

“Hey,” he spoke again, but you found yourself still unwilling to turn to speak, to give in. He huffed then in frustration, your silence something he never liked to hear. “Y/N?”

You couldn’t take it, not if it were true. It had been one hundred years since the stars had last aligned, chosen a couple to use, to live through. Anakin was too much, too enticing, too beautiful, too powerful. He had control over you, the way you felt, what you thought about. It was dangerous.

“It’s fine for you to do this in the temple. Ignore me, but here? We’re on a mission, on orders by the council itself. To ensure Padmé’s protection, you can’t do this. Not here,” he scolded, his tone suddenly hardening.

It seemed he had become short with you enough that you hadn’t even noticed the gentle flick of his wrist, but you felt it as soon as it happened. The unseen force of your face being turned towards him, harsher than you thought it would be. Forced to look at him, you glared, hating the way he used the force on you. His blue eyes stared down at you, tracing the etchings of your expression, the way it was anything but soft. His hand hung at his side, fingers outstretched, but they relaxed upon realizing how you felt, able to match it with the sudden pull in his chest.

“She is fine,” you finally said, the words cold upon your tongue.

His jaw tensed, “You’re upset with me.”

“I’m not,” you rebutted, “I just wish you wouldn’t handle me like that.”

“What do you mean?” He said, jaw loosening slightly to let a smile appear; it was small, almost appearing like a smirk. His annoyance faded to be replaced by something else, and you couldn’t deny that his playfulness only made you angrier.

“Stop it. Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” he chuckled amusingly.

You stood then, feeling the confines start to bend, melting at the will that was his pretty eyes and bashful smile. Your frustrations were no match for Anakin Skywalker, especially when he looked at you like that.

“I’m supposed to be mad at you,” you professed, reaching out to shove him back lightly, but his hands took hold of both your wrists, stopping the movement short. Suddenly, you felt trapped; the warmth of his fingertips on your skin was the only thing you could focus on.

“Why?” he asked, a single brow raising with interest, “What did I do?”

You shoved it all down then; the need to lean into his touch, to relax under his gaze, all of it, though it seemed the stars were in favor of such an action. Unless was this how it had always felt for everyone? This act of feeling completely under someone else’s control, as if the weight of the heart could defy any other human emotion.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you knew Senator Amidala?” You ripped your hands free from his.

“Really?” he asked, almost surprised that out of everything, it could be that, “That’s what you're upset about? That I hadn’t told you about Padmé?”

“Yes, you acted as if she were just any other Senator. That this mission isn’t any different.”

“It’s not,” he replied, quicker than you thought he would.

“Anakin, don’t do that. Don’t lie,” you sighed, shoulders deflating, all of your confidence leaving you, as well as the warmth that seemed to once appear in your chest at being able to sense what he felt, “You are quite fond of her.”

That teasing on his end was gone then, his expression rigid, breath uneven under your eyes. He glanced around the room quickly, frustration forming again, one that appeared so much like it had earlier when he was arguing with Obi-Wan. Except this time, it was being directed towards you. “And so what if I am? What, you’re going to go and tell Master about this?”

You shook your head, trying to hold it all together, trying to be so strong to block him out at that moment, to keep him from being able to feel just how much it had hurt you. You couldn’t even lie to yourself about it; it had pained you to hear the simple admission. “I don’t have to tell him anything, Anakin. It is quite obvious how you feel.”

“Which is what?” he demanded from you, voice low but cold, “You and I both know the truth that is our fate. Attachment is forbidden. Possession is forbidden, so even if I did feel whatever it is that I do, nothing could ever happen.”

That furrow in his brow had reappeared as he scowled down at you. Suddenly, so much anger was apparent. You could feel it — in the way goosebumps arose on your skin, and your pulse seemed to match his. The way it had sped up. The vein in the side of his neck was erect as he glared once again, no longer just angry about the Senator’s wishes to not engage in his advances but the rules that had confined his life.

“But then there’s compassion,” you whispered, the words almost coming out as a mumble.

His face twitched at your words, almost as if it could soothe and fix everything. The anger melted away, and you were met with the innocence that still filled his blue eyes. “Compassion?”

“It’s essential to a Jedi’s life. Compassion, which could be defined as unconditional love. In some ways, some might say, we are encouraged to love.”

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