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Padmé glowered at Bail as Leia began to feed. Usually such a level-headed man, she couldn’t believe he was asking this of her now of all times. She had just delivered not one, but two bawling infants. Shortly after, her handmaiden Yané had brought her news that Anakin had been injured in battle and had slipped into a coma.

And here was Bail Organa, begging her to take on the mantle of Supreme Chancellor in order to fill the vacuum left by Palpatine’s death.

“Without a leader, the Senate is a headless snake,” Bail said, trying to take her hand, but Padmé kept it out of his reach, choosing instead to cradle Leia’s head closer to her chest. She kept her other hand on Luke. He was sleeping in the crib next to her bed, ignorant of the medic-droid scanning his vitals every few minutes and fretting over his small size. “If you don’t take charge now, Sate Pestage will with the support of Palpatine’s camp and I guarantee then the Republic will truly be dead. We need you. Nobody else has your vision.”

“There are a thousand members of the Senate and you’re telling me there’s no one else?” Padmé arched a brow.

Bail shifted his weight in his seat. The contractions had come early. Padmé’s handmaidens had rushed the medic-droid up to her senatorial suite. There was no moving her or the babies now. In a medical centre, Padmé could use protocol or manners to turn Bail away. Here in her private quarters, Bail could plead with her all he wanted.

“Far too many of them cheered for Palpatine. They’ve forgotten why we’re a Republic. If you step up, you’ll remind them. A lot of them respect you for your contributions to the Loyalist Committee and your role in the blockade of Naboo. Mon Montha, Fang Zar, and I have gone over the entire list. There is no one else,” he added emphatically.

In his crib, Luke began to fuss. Padme moved her hand so that he could hold on to her fingers.

Padmé understood Bail’s reasonings, but she was so tired. She was a newly-single mother; a situation that would continue until Anakin woke up and even then, it was unclear. She’d seen the security footage of Anakin breaking into the creche at Jedi Temple and drawing his lightsaber against the younglings. If Obi-Wan had not interceded when he had, Padmé was certain Anakin would have done more to test her love for him. And that was the other thing.

“Would the Republic accept a Supreme Chancellor whose husband is a turncoat?” she said.

For the first time that evening, the fervent light behind Bail’s eyes dimmed. Haltingly, he said, “They don’t have to know. All the public has been told is that the Jedi Temple was attacked and that Knight Skywalker was injured by Obi-Wan. We’ll make Obi-Wan the scapegoat. He was a Separatist agent, a Sith apprentice. He incapacitated Anakin and fled.”

Judging by how Bail could not look at her, Padmé knew that her horror showed all too clearly. “You can’t do this. Palpatine turned Anakin. Obi-Wan was trying to save him.”

“Obi-Wan is missing,” said Bail. “We’ll sacrifice his reputation if it means having you.”

Padmé’s heart leapt to her throat. What? But why would Obi-Wan run? Did something happen to him? “We should be looking for him, instead of pinning the blame-”

“It’s already been done.”

“Bail!”

“We couldn’t wait for you to agree. The minute Master Windu killed Palpatine, his friends have been scrambling for the chancellorship. I won’t risk the Republic falling into their hands again.” Bail ran his fingers through his hair, tugging it out of its customary oiled coif. “Believe me, I hate this. Obi-Wan is my friend, but we’re out of options here. I don’t know what else we can do.”

They could justify it as much as they wanted. Agreeing to this still felt like a betrayal.

She stared at the members of the Delegation of 2000 who came to sign the papers that would transfer all of Palpatine’s emergency powers to her. Every one of them met her gaze, unashamedly, believing this was the best thing to do for their flailing Republic. Padmé could not help the sinking feeling that they might be right; that this was what it has come to. Instead of Supreme Chancellor, they called her President. And instead of two, she put forward seven names to be her Council of advisors. Among them were Bail and Mon Mothma.

“There you got what you wanted,” said Padmé to Bail, wishing he didn’t look as tired as her. “Now go restore peace in the galaxy.”

Padmé’s first Senate meeting as President began a disaster. Two thirds of the Senate objected to Padmé’s leadership but could not agree on another candidate. For three hours, she sat in a large chair, swatting away hovercams that flew around her head like flies, as Bail addressed the senators and explained the situation: that the former Delegation of 2000 already made up an effective majority. No matter how unhappy some of them might be, Padmé would be the next leader. Bail went on to elaborate Padmé’s long track record as a Loyalist. Those who opposed her now would show themselves ill-intentioned towards the Republic. Slowly, the dissenting voices quieted while Palpatine’s camp stewed in their corner. Sate Pestage, Palpatine’s old confidante, glared at Padmé with his dark, beady eyes from underneath his red headdress.

The bill limited Padmé’s emergency powers to one year. Senator after senator bore holes in Padmé’s face with their heavy stares as they signed the bill. One year and they could be better or descend into chaos once again.

Hovercams followed Padmé when she moved her things from the senatorial suite in 500 Republica to the Chancellor’s Suite in the Republic Executive Building. The Council of Seven had insisted. Coming from Naboo, where every office had its own ceremonial dress, Padmé understood the weight of symbolic gestures. But immediately after that, she made herself a recluse. She disbanded Palaptine’s Red Guard, banned all hovercams at the door and let the business of regulating peace in the galaxy fall onto the shoulders of the Council. Approval for bills came to her via datapad as a matter of form.

Outside the walls of the Chancellor’s Suite, the galaxy cheered for the wise President Amidala, who has ushered in peace after a period of war and corrupt government. In the same breath, they jeered the traitor Obi-Wan Kenobi, who betrayed the brave Jedi, Anakin Skywalker, and fled when he’d realised his side had lost the war. How very strong of the president to lead in spite of all this, in spite of her twin newborns.

Padmé had to admit it made a good story.

Three months passed in this fashion, and still Anakin slept.

x

Even before Yoda spoke, Padmé could tell it wasn’t good news. Yoda always wore a grave expression and today, his expression was graver still. Medical droids and doctors from across the galaxy have had their go at Anakin. The Jedi were the only ones who came close to having an explanation for his condition.

“Locked away young Skywalker’s consciousness has been,” said Yoda, bowing his head, “with Obi-Wan’s own Force powers.”

Padmé called Sabé to take Luke and Leia away. “Is that even possible?” She’s heard many tales about the Force; primarily that it existed all around them and gave the Jedi the ability to move objects without touching them, influence a weak mind, but she’d never heard of Force-user putting someone into a coma.

“Meditate oneself into hibernation using the Force, a Jedi always can,” said Yoda. “But a strange case, this is. Not common for a Jedi to force another into a state of sleep, it is. Not one for so long. A great exertion in the Force it would have required, especially if the other Jedi was not willing.” Deep concern lined his old face but Padmé wasn’t certain if it was for Anakin or Obi-Wan.

“Now that we now what’s wrong with him, how do we wake him up?” The silence that followed her question had dread mounting in the back of Padmé’s head.

“By the one responsible for it, can it only be undone,” said Yoda at length.

At this point, no one knew where Obi-Wan could be. There were many rumours, of course, but those who knew Obi-Wan knew them to be rubbish. There was no way Obi-Wan was on a pleasure planet, spending his new freedom on Twi’lek girls. Even less likely was he an assassin in the Outer Rims, selling his services to the most generous crime lord. Obi-Wan’s friends have had tried to find him, but no one knew why he had disappeared in the first place, which made the search for him all the more tricky.

“Is there no other way?” said Padmé.

Yoda bowed his head again. “If determined you are, alert the other Jedi to look for Obi-Wan I will.”

Padmé straightened in her seat, voice going cold. “What do you mean ‘if’? I can’t leave Ani to sleep forever.”

Yoda raised a clawed hand. “Cautious you must be. Sealed Skywalker when he was a Sith, Obi-Wan had. The man who returns to you might be a Sith still.”

The last time Padmé had seen Anakin awake, he had been the same man she had married. He had been warm and reassuring when she’d told him about her plans to set up the baby’s room in Naboo. She did not know Anakin as a Sith lord and despite having seen the security footage, she found it difficult to reconcile the image of that murderer with her husband. A part of her worried that the man she knew and the Sith lord were not so different from one another. But unless she woke him up, she would never know.

Reading the determination on her face, Yoda nodded. “Help find Obi-Wan, we will, but warn you I must. Will not be found, an Obi-Wan who does not want to be found.”

x

Despite the Council of Seven’s many protests, Padmé packed up her things and left Coruscant on a cruiser with a retinue of handmaidens and guards who had followed her from Naboo. She made no secret of her mission to track down Obi-Wan, which led to a flurry of information about his supposed whereabouts.

He was building his own clone army on Kamino to revenge himself upon the empire for the death of his Sith master. He was on Son-Tuul, mingling with the most notorious bounty hunters in the galaxy. He was laying low in Ruhe, a former Separatist stronghold, until the furore over him died down.

Padmé chose to go to Ruhe first. She remembered Anakin bragging to her about once saving Obi-Wan’s life whilst on a mission there.

Ruhe was a lush green planet. Since Count Dooku left, the locals had retaken their city. Trade had improved but not enough to lift the collective population out of poverty. Padmé tried not to stare at the hungry-looking children comparing the seeds and bulbs they collected from their daily scavenging in the forests as the prime minister of Ruhe came to receive her from her cruiser.

The prime minister lent her some men to comb the forests on speeder bikes alongside Captain Typho and his guards. Meanwhile, she led Padme to what was once the Separatist citadel. It was now a community centre and museum. It was difficult to imagine the battle that had once taken place in this towering structure. The large rooms were now filled with families weaving baskets and cleaning gemstones.

‘Attack droids by the hundreds’, Anakin had said. Even then, Padmé had suspected Anakin of exaggeration.

She peered over the balcony at the vast forest and wondered if she should have brought a Jedi along with her. It would be useful to have someone who could sense Obi-Wan’s presence simply by reaching out in the Force.

But by the time Captain Typho returned to her with the disappointing news - Ruhe’s forests were not hiding Obi-Wan - Padmé had decided against the idea. She still had no idea what the Jedi planned to do with Anakin once he was revived. She didn’t expect them to let him go unpunished but she wasn’t going to all this trouble of finding Obi-Wan only for the Jedi to take Anakin away as soon as they could.

The prime minister put on a dutiful look of disappointment at Captain Typho’s news, yet underneath her frown lurked an ulterior motive. “Your Majesty, I know this is impertinent, but I wonder if you couldn’t-”

Padmé told the prime minister not to beat around the bush.

“I would like for you to provide Ruhe with economic aid. The Separatists have used our world badly, mistreated our people. We are struggling now. Our old friends would not help us. I know the Senate is giving money to war-torn planets. If you ask them, they will help us,” said the prime minister with the cadence of a much-rehearsed speech.

Padmé surveyed the city around her. Children running into forests for food and adults cleaning products from the mines to earn a day’s dinner. If this was the city, she’d hate to see how the villages were faring. Nodding, she said, “I will put forth your request to my Council. One of them will contact you with the outcome shortly.” She pulled on a strained smile when the prime minister thanked her effusively.

It was true that Ruhe was in need of help but so were many other worlds. She could not guarantee that Bail and the others would deem Ruhe worthy enough to extend aid. The prime minister’s gratitude was premature.

Ignoring the dread in the back of her head and the group of locals singing her praises, Padmé returned to her cruiser, went to check in on Luke and Leia, and told Captain Typho to set course to the next planet on their list.

x

Once upon a time, there was a brave Jedi called Anakin Skywalker. He fought in the Clone Wars and won many battles in the name of justice. A year ago, he chased the Sith apprentice, Count Dooku, to the green planet of Ruhe. But the evil Count had set a trap for Anakin and his partner, Obi-Wan. Instead of finding the Count, Anakin and Obi-Wan were ambushed by a battalion of attack droids.

Anakin was strong and very skilled with the lightsaber. He fought off the droids easily, but Obi-Wan wasn’t so lucky. The droids were too much for him to handle. Luckily, Anakin saw the trouble Obi-Wan was in and risking his own safety, he went to help Obi-Wan.

The two of them managed to escape and foiled the evil Count’s plan because Anakin was brave and loyal to his friend.

x

Yoda made contact just as Padmé was leaving Stewjon. News of Obi-Wan’s apparent treachery had reached every corner of the galaxy and reflected badly on the proud Kenobi clan, even though they had not set eyes on their most famous relative in over two decades. “So you see, your Excellency, we would not be hiding him,” said Owen as he led Padmé across the same grassy knolls he claimed to have once walked along with his younger brother.

“In expected places you will not find Obi-Wan,” said Yoda from the HoloNet transmitter aboard Padmé’s cruiser.

“Stewjon is ‘expected’? I would have thought the opposite,” said Padmé.

She’d seen Obi-Wan’s blue eyes and sandy hair in Owen but there the similarities between the brothers ended. Owen had none of Obi-Wan’s dry humour or his kind voice. He spoke of Obi-Wan as a nuisance instead of the war hero he was customarily hailed as. Before the Council had allowed those evil lies about him to spread, that was.

It kept Padmé up at night sometimes, thinking about how she was cheating her friend. But was Obi-Wan not treating her ill as well by disappearing without a notice and taking with him the only way to restore Anakin? And sometimes, when the night was especially quiet, a tiny voice said, “What if Obi-Wan really is a Sith?”

“Where are you, Master Yoda?” asked Padmé.

“Rhinnal,” said Yoda. “On a mission with Master Fisto I was when sensed Obi-Wan’s Force signature we did. In a medical centre here for a time Obi-Wan was.” If Anakin had injured him during their duel, it would make sense that Obi-Wan needed to recuperate. “However, remember seeing him no one here does.”

Padmé rubbed her eyes. She was tired from her day around Stewjon and staring at the holographic figure only strained her eyes. “I didn’t know the Jedi could erase memories.”

“Surprises me as well that Obi-Wan did this. Such methods the Jedi nowadays do not use. Worried about his state of mind, I am.”

“But why would Obi-Wan do all this if he’s done nothing wrong? He must know we’re not his enemy.” The tiny voice in Padmé’s head said its piece again: ‘Maybe it’s not just Anakin. Everyone you know have gone to the Dark Side. How would you know? Maybe even Master Yoda.’ Padme closed her eyes, gently kneading her temples.

“Perhaps wake Skywalker, Obi-Wan does not want to.”

Padmé lifted her gaze to Yoda. “Why are you helping me? Finding Obi-Wan is my personal business. If it wasn’t clear before, the Jedi no longer have to answer to the Senate.”

“Indeed, we do not. To a political body the Jedi shall never again answer. Not to you, or to your Council of Seven,” said Yoda, leaning his full weight onto his gimer stick. “But peacekeepers we are and peace we cannot keep without the cooperation of the Republic. On some matters, cooperate we must. Obi-Wan is one such matter.” His voice fell, croaked. “Not the one you saw on Stewjon, Obi-Wan’s family is. Leave him alone to suffer we will not. Leave you to this task alone we will not.”

Kind words, and yet, without Padmé’s prompting, the Jedi had been ready to let Anakin remain in his coma indefinitely. Was Anakin not part of their family as well?

Their conversation was interrupted by the pierce of a baby’s cry. Padmé couldn’t tell if it was Luke or Leia, but it didn’t matter because the shrill wails soon woke the other and now two infants were bawling. “I have to go. My other duties call.”

“May the Force be with you, Lady Amidala,” said Yoda.

Padmé nodded absentmindedly and ended the call.

x

They were on route to Son Tuul when Padmé realised her children were missing. Admittedly, caring for Luke and Leia on-the-go had proven more difficult than she’d initially expected. They had different sleeping schedules and temperaments so opposite that whatever that would get a laugh out of Leia would make Luke cry, and vice versa. Padmé’s three handmaidens were run ragged attending to the infants as well as helping her with the administrative details of running a Republic.

Since she was no longer onsite on Coruscant, all Senate meeting minutes and documents that needed her approval needed to be transmitted through a private HoloNet channel. This arrangement would have worked out fine if Padmé sat in an office all day but she wanted time with her children, with Anakin, and on occasion, down on the world she had visited in hopes of finding Obi-Wan. The people on those worlds, in kind, wanted an audience with their new leader. Her presence on their world assured them that she cared, that her reign would be superior to the previous Republican chancellors’. It definitely helped that the planets she had visited so far comprised mostly of worlds in the Mid and Outer Rims, which have been begging for interference from the former-Republic for a long time now.

Juggling all these expectations had shortened Padmé’s nights to the point that she had started falling asleep at her breakfast table.

Today, when she woke up to finish what was left on her fruit plate, Sabé approached her with a teary face. It wasn’t any of their fault. Sabé had been cleaning up the table while Dormé was transcribing the latest transmission from Mon Mothma and Yané had been confirming their schedule with Captain Typho. By the time any of them remembered to check in on Luke and Leia, the infants were missing from their cribs.

This was not a problem Padmé had anticipated. True, Luke had learnt to crawl a few weeks ago, thereby prompting his sister to learn as well and learn fast. But Padmé had not expected them to know how to remove the pins securing their cribs. Barely six months and already her children were a menace.

She ordered her entire retinue to turn the cruiser upside down for them until a guard approached her with a sleeping baby tucked in each arm. Padmé gawped at him for a full minute before demanding an explanation.

“I heard crying in the commissary and found these two under a table,” said the guard. “Their clothes were soiled so I changed them. After that, the girl wouldn’t stop fussing until I took her to the observation deck, at which point the boy cried. I was walking all over the ship rocking them until they calmed.”

Padmé wondered why she hadn’t heard any of it. She must have been more tired than she thought. She had to admit: the sight of both her babies at peace was such a strange one that some of her anger towards the guard withered away. “Next time, you ask my permission if you take my children anywhere.”

“I understand,” said the guard.

Padmé lowered her head to get a better look at the guard’s face underneath the visor of his uniform. “I thought I knew all of Captain Typho’s men. Are you new?”

The guard laughed. “Not quite.” He looked too old to be starting out as a fresh guard. His face was lined. The short hair on his head and chin was white. Padmé predicted that her mission would carry on for some time and that it would take her to even more dangerous places. Their upcoming destination itself, Son-Tuul, generated enough terrifying rumours to have killed its tourism industry. This was no assignment for an old man.

Padmé had half a mind to dismiss the guard from her service when Luke fidgeted in the guard’s arm. She stiffened in anticipation of his wails, but the guard made a soft shushing noise and to Padmé’s utter surprise, Luke gurgled and settled back into sleep.

“Do you have children…”

“Dan,” the guard supplied.

“Do you have children, Dan?”

“No, but I have spent time around some.”

Padmé leaned against the back of her seat. If she and her three handmaidens weren’t enough, Dan would have to do. “How do you feel watching my children a few hours every day so my handmaidens and I have time to rest? My children can be a handful, as I’m sure you’re well aware by now, so you can choose to say no.”

A frown flitted across Dan’s features, making his wrinkles more pronounced. “If you are sure, Lady Amidala.”

Padmé nodded, taking back her children, careful not to jostle them. She was too tired to think of another alternative. In her arms, Leia snuffled and rubbed her cheek against her shoulder, exhaling a soft ‘buh’ when Padmé kissed her head.

x

Once upon a time, a Jedi called Anakin Skywalker was captured by a bounty hunter and kept in an underground prison. The bounty hunter wanted to starve him and make him weak before giving him over to the terrible General Grievous. Because, you see, Anakin Skywalker was a general. He had won so many battles with his clone troopers that he was called the Hero with No Fear.

But not only was Anakin fearless. He was also resourceful. He found nourishment in the insects that lived in the dirt so that even after one week, he was robust. He eventually tricked the bounty hunter, escaped the prison, and rejoined his troops.

The clone troopers were very relieved to see Anakin because he was a good general. One of the very best, in fact.

x

On Son-Tuul, Captain Typho insisted they hide the cruiser in the jungle and approach the Gambler’s Den on speeder bikes. Captain Typho would have preferred it if Padmé stayed on the ship but he hadn’t ever swayed her when she was queen, he could not now when she was president. Besides, if anyone knew where Obi-Wan might be, it was the bounty hunters.

Securing her mask and hood, Padmé entered the subterranean Den.

A huge roar of cheers assaulted her ears upon entry. A Wookie had just won its match in the Pit and the onlookers were collecting their winnings. Slapping away eager pickpocketing hands, Padmé zeroed in on a group of colourful individuals, who were deep in their own conversation and were otherwise indifferent to the gambling fights of the Pit.

She sat down opposite them without ceremony. The individuals closest to her raised their hackles, hands going straight for their blasters, but Captain Typho stepped forward and made his presence known. It was the fineness of Padmé and Captain Typho’s cloth more than anything that had the bounty hunter pause with considering looks on their faces.

“If you want a big payday, I suggest you relax, gentlemen and lady,” said Padmé, nodding at the woman at the far end of the booth. “I’m looking for someone and you look like you’d be reliable enough to spread the news.”

Several members at the table bristled at this obvious slight against their competency. The woman said, “How much? We don’t jump for anything less then 5,000 credits.”

“The reward is negotiable upon delivery. I can go up to six digits if you’re curious.” Padmé ignored Captain Typho’s surreptitious gaze. He knew her to be too principled to dig into the economic reserves of the Republic, especially at a time like this. No doubt he was now calculating how much was left in the coffers in Naboo.

The woman directed a broad smile at Padmé. “We love a desperate customer. Who are you looking for, honey? Cheating husband?”

“Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

A hush fell over the table, making the backdrop of yowls from the fighting pit ever more pronounced. The bounty hunters exchanged looks either anxious or confused. Only the woman remained still. Finally, an Arcona with green skin and bulbous purple eyes spoke up. “Alright.”

The woman rounded upon her friend, hissing, “Are you crazy?”

“Six digits she said,” said the Arcona, his purple eyes widening in glee.

“It’s suicide,” she declared. “You weren’t here the last time he came.”

“Obi-Wan was here? When?” said Padmé.

“Years ago, his partner, Skywalker, had been taken by one of ours for Grievous. Kenobi came and tore the place apart. I hadn’t believed all those stories about the Jedi but after that…” She spat at the Arcona. “He did all that for a man he eventually turned his back on. What do you think he would do to you?” Turning back to Padmé, she said, “We’ll spread the word, but the only one who will take up your offer will be the stupid ones, and they tend to be less successful. What do you want with the Negotiator anyway? Are you with the Confederacy?”

“The war is over. There is no more Confederacy,” said Padmé.

“An empire then.” The woman leaning back and crossing her arms.

Padmé slid a comlink onto the table. “This is how you can reach me once you’ve found him.”

Once safely ensconced aboard the cruiser, Padmé switched on the listening device and heard the Arcona asking the woman why she didn’t say anything about Tatooine. There had been rumours of a hooded figure wielding a laser sword, creating trouble for Jabba the Hutt.

“Listen,” said the woman, “you don’t know what it’s like to face down an angry Jedi, alright? Let the stupid ones do Amidala’s work. I want to live.”

x

On some days, Padmé washed Anakin instead of leaving it to the medic-droid. She sometimes read Senate minutes whilst holding his hand, and if she felt especially frivolous, she would bring Luke and Leia in and talk to them as if Anakin were awake. She didn’t do it very often because it only highlighted how alone she felt in her large bed at night. Anakin had been so happy when Padmé had told him about her pregnancy. They had envisioned such a life filled with sunlight together.

She ran the wet cloth down Anakin’s legs and took the towel offered by the medic-droid to dry him up. She kept the medic-droid onboard to ensure Anakin’s vitals remain firmly in the green zone. Yoda had assured her that Anakin was in a state of hibernation. To him, it was less like a coma, than it was a long nap. He could hear some voices, probably even react to them. But he wouldn’t wake.

Padmé fingered Anakin’s hair and wondered if he would wake if she gave it a trim. He had always been quite touchy about his hair; a side effect of having to keep it shorn in the Padawan style all throughout childhood and adolescence. Anakin looked good with long curls and he knew it. But since he had gone to sleep, his hair had grown four inches and was close to rivalling Padmé’s in length. She supposed she could tie it up in a ponytail with a ribbon. It could look quite dashing.

“Oh.”

Padmé turned and saw Yané gawping at her, carrying a tray with a cup of tea and some biscuits. “Um, my lady, would you like some dark tea? It’s very good for your health.”

“You look surprised. Were you expecting to find someone else here?” said Padme, taking a sip of the tea. It was good. Fortifying. She normally had a lighter brew in the morning, but given her workload, she might just switch to the darker leaves.

Yané coloured, voice going shrill. “No, of course not. I’ve never done this. No. I sometimes see him in here and yes, he’s much older, but he’s so good with Luke and Leia.”

Padmé decided to have mercy on Yané and sent her away. She had not expected for Yané to develop feelings for someone as old as Dan but from what Padmé knew about him, he was a good candidate for her affections. He was kind, patient and adept at his duties. If he was half as careful with Yané as he was with Luke and Leia, Padmé was certain she had nothing to worry about.

In that respect, Yané was luckier than her. Staring down at Anakin’s serene face for one last time, Padmé kissed him and went to dress for the dry heat of Tatooine.

x

Once upon a time, there was a handsome Jedi called Anakin Skywalker. He was so charming, many princesses fell in love with him. But Anakin only had one love in his heart and her name was Padmé, whom he had met as a small boy.

He nurtured his love in secret for years and years and when he finally reunited with her, his love for her overcame all other impulses and he married her, even though it went against everything Obi-Wan had taught him.

But the more Anakin loved Padmé, the more afraid he was of losing her. An evil man called Sidious knew about this and took advantage of Anakin’s feelings.

Obi-Wan could have prevented it, but Obi-Wan was a blind, old Jedi. He should have kept a better eye on Anakin. He should have been watching more closely.

No wonder Anakin hated Obi-Wan.

x

The last time Padmé had been to Tatooine was over a decade ago and even then, her experience on the desert planet had been confined to the more civilised areas of the Mos Espa spaceport. The only way into Jabba’s palace, however, was a single dirt road through a canyon located in the otherwise uninhabited Northern Dune Sea.

She allowed Captain Typho as much weaponry as he needed to feel comfortable. Padmé herself was nervous. She’s never dealt with a Hutt before, especially one with Jabba’s influence. A crime lord and a heavy player at the Grand Hutt council, he has sat comfortably in charge of all unsavoury commercial affairs in Tatooine since before Padmé entered politics.

Upon stepping down from the sand skiff and entering Jabba’s Palace, however, Padme realised that the bounty hunter on Son-Tuul had been understating the facts. The hooded figure had not ‘given Jabba trouble’. He had dismantled Jabba’s entire station of operations. Half the throne room has collapsed in on itself. The remnants of Alkhara’s tower filled the pit in the middle of the room. A dead Rancor laid under the sandstone heap with what appeared to be the upper body of a Twi’lek sticking out of its open maw. Padmé twisted away in horror.

Despite the state of general disrepair, Jabba sat comfortably on his throne, smoking idly from a Hookah pipe while off to the side, his lackeys slowly excavated the rest of the room to restore it to its former glory. Padmé thought she saw a few more pair of feet sticking out from under the rubble of sandblasted stone and metal. Without meaning to, she stepped back towards the safe threshold of Captain Typho and his men. She felt a firm hand on the small of her back, preventing her from retreating completely. Behind her, Dan nodded at the protocol droid shuffling onto Jabba’s dais, ready to translate for him.

Jabba growled a series of guttural Huttese words.

“The great Jabba would like to ask what business you have here. He is not in a generous mood after all that has happened as of late,” said the droid.

“I would like to enquire after the one who caused all this,” said Padmé, gesturing at the cave-in. “News has reached me that this is the work of a Jedi. As it so happens, I am looking for one. I am prepared to give a reward for any useful information you have.”

She knew this had been the wrong tack to take when Jabba erupted in laughter.

“The great Jabba thinks you are very brave to come to his territory with that sort of language,” the droid translated. “The great Jabba has no information he would like to give you, but he does think someone who looks like you would fetch a pretty price on the slave market. After all, the great Jabba needs a bit more money to make his palace look nice again.”

Jabba’s lackeys, who had been diligently digging away the rubble, came alert at Jabba’s signal and pounced on Captain Typho and his men. Padmé pulled out the blaster tucked in her waistband and began shooting them down. Captain Typho and his men followed suit, but some had fallen from the surprise attack. Jabba’s lackeys outnumbered them ten to one. Padmé shot anyone who came within a foot of her, mentally cursing her own foolishness for coming to see Jabba like this.

“Padmé!”

Padmé turned, narrowly missing a blaster shot. Her heart skipped when she heard the sizzle of a lightsaber and saw a thin blade of fluorescent plasma piercing through the south wall of Jabba’s throne room. Another lightsaber blade joined the first and a breath later, the wall gave way under the joint attack of Yoda and Kit Fisto.

Jabba barked out his displeasure. “Kill them all except the woman,” said the droid. As more of Jabba’s men came to overwhelm them, the droid turned to the Hutt and said, “Great Jabba, don’t you think given what the last Jedi did to us that we should just shoo them out?”

During the Clone Wars, Padmé had heard a saying. ‘One Jedi is worth a hundred battle droids.’ It was repeated so many times that she hadn’t given it much thought. Her arena of choice was the senatorial rotunda, after all, not the battlefield. But, now, standing in the middle of a no-holds-barred fight, she could appreciate the truth of the saying.

Between Yoda and Kit Fisto, Captain Typho and men had little to do. Once the last of Jabba’s men was squared away, Yoda powered down his lightsaber and approached Jabba with both hands on his gimer stick. “Visited you a few months ago another Jedi did. Tell us where he went you will.”

“Lady Amidala, once again we meet under less than desirable circumstances,” said Kit Fisto with a wry smile, casting Padmé’s thoughts back to their time together on Mon Calamari.

“Master Fisto,” said Padmé, “what are you doing here?”

“We were tracking Obi-Wan’s Force signature since Rhinnal, but we lost the trail somewhere over the Bantha Plains. Then Master Yoda spotted your cruiser parked by the canyon.”

“Headed towards Mos Espa Jabba the Hutt says Obi-Wan was,” said Yoda. Behind him, Jabba was gesturing violently at his downed men and growling at his droid. “Prudent to leave Jabba now I think it is.”

Yoda and Kit Fisto abandoned their landspeeder to join Padmé and her party in her cruiser.

“But if the spaceport is truly where Obi-Wan was headed, he is long gone by now. I can sense no more of his Force presence.” Kit Fisto turned to Yoda. “Perhaps if we recruited Master Vos. His ability in psychometry far surpasses mine.”

Yoda was silent for a long while. “Where our search ends, this is. Another trail to follow, there is not.” He looked up at Padmé. “Before I told you, I have. Find Obi-Wan you cannot, if want to be found he does not.”

“This isn’t the end,” said Padmé. Yoda made to placate her but Padmé shook his head. The look in Yoda’s eyes begged her to understand. Padmé didn’t know if he was trying to curb future disappointment, if he thought giving up now would be easier on her, but she wasn’t having it. “There’s no way Obi-Wan would leave Ani like this. Not when there’s still a chance to save him.”

Kit Fisto hesitated. “If Skywalker is still a Sith…”

“And if he isn’t?” Padmé challenged. “My husband is still alive. I cannot give up now. He hasn’t even seen Luke or Leia.”

As if on cue, she heard her children crying. Hearing their distress on top of all the excitement from earlier, Padmé felt close to breaking into tears of frustration. She was startled when Dan touched her arm, his fingers warm and rough with callouses. The reassurance in his eyes put Padmé at ease. She could see why Yané liked him. Padmé could feel herself calming down as he hurried to the children’s room in her stead, accidentally knocking into Kit Fisto who was coming in with a blinking comlink.

“Your handmaiden said this was for you,” Kit Fisto said, rubbing his arms.

The voice on the other end of the call belonged to the Arcona bounty hunter from Son-Tuul. “Send me your coordinates and ready those six digits, President Amidala,” he said. “I have found Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

x

Once upon a time, there was a young boy called Anakin Skywalker. He was born a slave and was taken away from his mother for the promise of a better life as a Jedi. He learned many things with the Jedi: how to fight, how to build a lightsaber, how to communicate with the Force. But the Jedi starved him of love, understanding, and acceptance.

So when a man came and offered Anakin all those things, Anakin decided to be his friend. Anakin found out later that the man was a Sith Lord. But it was too late. The man had corrupted him and made Anakin do terrible things.

There is still hope for Anakin. He is a good man. He can still come back to the light. Once he sees you, I’m sure he will. He has to.

x

When Sabé informed Padmé about the incoming HoloNet transmission from Bail, Padmé was tempted to ignore it. She was just about to go down to Mos Espa to meet the bounty hunter. But once again, her sense of duty overrode feelings of urgency so Padmé took Bail’s call, intending on asking him to hurry it up.

“It’s about Ruhe,” said Bail.

“What about Ruhe?” said Padmé. The last she remembered of Ruhe was that they had requested economic aid. She had left the decision to the Council of Seven and the Senate. “It’s been five months. Surely you must have come to a verdict by now.”

“Ruhe wishes to name a day after you and requests your presence for the celebration.”

“Explain,” said Padmé.

The Council and Senate had indeed reached a verdict on Ruhe. They had sent as much economic aid to the planet as the prime minister could bear. The planet had been included in at least three hyperlane trade routes. All tourism packages now included a visit to the lovely jungles of Ruhe. Corellia has been streaming funds into the Ruhe government at a zero interest rate. The people of Ruhe were thriving to the point of halting any inflow of foreign investments.

“That’s excessive. How did this happen? You and the Senate were supposed to evaluate their world for economic viability and offer them the same help package we over the other worlds. Going by pace the Senate usually operates on, I half-expected for the senators to have only reached an agreement on the evaluation now,” said Padmé.

Bail’s sigh came across as noisy static over the speakers. “It was my fault. I made the mistake of telling the Senate that Ruhe’s request came from you.” Padmé raised a brow, still not comprehending. “They thought it was a direct order from the president.”

Padmé let out a cry of dismay. “Bail!”

“I know, I know.” Bail lifted his hands in a placating manner.

“You told me I would just be a figurehead.”

“No harm has come from this. Ruhe was a good investment. The senators liked your decisive hand.”

“Except it wasn’t my decisive hand. I relayed that request to you because I expected the seven of you to consider it properly and then to put it forward to the other senators. I gave it nearly no thought. Imagine if it had been a more dangerous request. Imagine if it had turned out badly. You cannot put this sort of power in my hands.” Padme slammed her hands down on the console.

Bail smiled at her. “Have you ever heard of this saying? ‘Those that do not want power are those most suitable to wield it.’”

“Bail,” Padmé warned.

He gestured at her to settle down. “Please don’t threaten me about shortening that one-year clause again. I understand. I just wanted to let you know about Ruhe. They want to celebrate you and soon.” Padmé wasn’t going. There was no way she was going to an event celebrating something she disapproved having control over. “How is everything else?”

“I’m not sure yet,” said Padmé. “We might have found Obi-Wan.”

“Give him my best, would you?” said Bail. It was so easy to forget that Bail and Obi-Wan were friends. “Tell him the Republic needs the Negotiator even out of war.”

“I will tell him you miss him.”

“That sounds about right.” Bail chuckled and signed off.

x

At the Thirsty Eopie cantina in Mos Espa, Padmé sat down and ordered a pitcher of Jawa juice, a platter of blue buttermilk biscuits, some pallie wine with a side of squill liver salad, and what’s the special here? Eopie cream pie?

The owner of the cantina looked positively giddy as Padmé kept on ordering. She’d never heard of more than half the things on the menu since interplanetary trade hardly touched the Outer Rim planets. Her guards were more than happy to help her clean the table. They enjoyed the pallie wine and declared the Bantha beef soup a revelation. Kit Fisto tucked into some womprat stew while Yoda quietly asked if there was any h’kak bean tea to be had. Padmé made a mental note to order more Eopie cream pies for her handmaidens who had remained on the cruiser with Luke and Leia.

Captain Typho touched Padmé’s elbow and asked if she was alright. In truth, Padmé was all nerves, her stomach so knotted up she couldn’t taste anything. The Arcona bounty hunter had given her a vague time frame. He could be arriving in the next five minutes or the next five hours. It felt too good to be true that her search of five months were finally coming to an end. Part of her was already readying herself for disappointment in case the bounty hunter had lied, or that he would show up empty-handed because Obi-Wan had escaped.

Yoda returned from taking a call outside and jumped onto his seat. “Agreed to meet us, Master Vos has.”

Padmé nodded, saying nothing.

If nothing else, Yoda was confident in their bounty hunter bringing Obi-Wan. He was already preparing for the eventuality of Anakin’s restoration. According to the grapevine, Quinlan Vos was one of the strongest fighters the Temple had to offer. If Anakin woke up a Sith, the combined strength of the gathered Jedi would be able to contain him.

Kit Fisto pushed a glass towards her. “Here, have some Jawa juice, my lady. You need to rehydrate. The desert is hot and arid.”

“Yet, I saw you shivering earlier,” said Padmé.

“Feeling unwell are you?” said Yoda.

Kit Fisto frowned. “I do not think so. I did feel a chill aboard the cruiser, like something wet sliding down my back. I thought it might have been a faulty ventilation unit.”

The relative peace of the table was broken when a sandy-haired figure in dusty rags fell towards them, upsetting the entire table of food. Padmé held her hands up to protect herself from the splatter of food and drink and saw the green-skinned, purple-eyed bounty hunter striding forward, hands on cocked hips. To her left, Kit Fisto leapt to his feet and rushed to the figure in the dusty rags, crying, “Obi-Wan!”

For it was Obi-Wan.

His hair and beard was longer than Padmé remembered but that was to be expected. When Kit Fisto tried to take his arm, however, Obi-Wan scrambled away with fear in his wide eyes. He opened his mouth but no sound came out. Frustrated, he jabbed his finger at the smirking Arcona bounty hunter.

“What have you done to him?” Padmé demanded.

“All you said was that you wanted him. You never said in what condition,” said the Arcona.

Yoda leapt down from his seat and touched Obi-Wan’s forehead. Obi-Wan froze, eyes still wide and unblinking, lips forming around soundless words. “No Force signature I can sense in him.”

Kit Fisto looked down at him, horrified. “Obi-Wan, what have you done to yourself?”

“Wait,” said Padmé, scrambling to her feet. “Didn’t you say we need his Force powers to wake Ani up? What does this mean now? Can he wake Ani?”

“In this state, he cannot,” said Yoda.

Padmé grabbed the front of Obi-Wan’s rags, nails embedding deeply into her palms. “Why did you do this? Tell me why.” Obi-Wan looked back at her, helplessness stamped across his visage. She’d thought finally seeing him after all this while would provide some comfort. But, now, Padmé wished she had never found him. At least when she was searching, she still had hope.

This close to him, she could read the word Obi-Wan was trying to say on his lips, ‘Sorry. Sorry,’ followed by a shake of his head.

The Arcona bounty hunter tapped his foot. “Well? You got your man. Let’s negotiate the reward.”

“Bring that man back to the cruiser with us,” said Padmé. With a nod from Captain Typho, the Naboo guards disarmed the bounty hunter and frogmarched him out of the cantina. Reluctantly, she released her grip on Obi-Wan and straightened herself. Even though she tried hard to hide her trembling, Kit Fisto saw it and drew her close in a loose embrace.

His hold was secure and his hands large. Padmé wished they were warm and rough, like Anakin’s used to be.

She gently pushed Kit Fisto away and tried to remember the last time Anakin had hugged her, wondering if that might have been the last embrace she might ever receive from Anakin. If she’d known that had been the last one, she’d never have let him go. She would have clung on to him so tightly that he wouldn’t have gone to Palpatine or the Temple. He would have been safe with her.

Kit Fisto touched her shoulder, trying to be reassuring. “Master Vos and Master Windu are on their way. We will figure something out together. Do not lose hope, Lady Amidala.”

x

Locked in a room on the cruiser with a ‘Hey, this wasn’t the deal!’ the Arcona bounty hunter was left to the mercies of Captain Typho’s interrogation while Padmé and the Jedi observed as the medic-droid that usually attended to Anakin now looked over Obi-Wan.

“Dehydration, slight malnutrition and some surface bruising on the thigh and abdomen,” said the droid. It pricked Obi-Wan with a needle, who reacted, but even his exclamation of pain was silent. “Please wait for blood analysis.”

“We hypothesised that Obi-Wan expended great Force energy to have forced Skywalker into a dreambubble,” Kit Fisto muttered. “Is it possible that in doing so, he completely used up his reserves? Could this lack of Force presence be a side effect of such reckless use of his powers?”

As the Jedi poked and prodded him, Obi-Wan kept jabbing his thumb at his chest and made a diagonal cutting motion in the air, shaking his head vehemently. At one point, he even pressed his hands together and looked frantically at Padme, lips tripping over either what could be an apology or a prayer.

“I’m not angry at you. At least I don’t think I am,” said Padmé.

The swell of fury had come and left her quickly at the cantina. Anger had no place in a time when solutions were needed. She took Obi-Wan’s hand and noticed how thin his wrist was. The folds of his rags fell lower, revealing a jutting collarbone. The overhead light cast unflattering shadows of his ribs. Padmé wondered what Obi-Wan had put himself through and for what reason. However, until the medic-droid could find a way to restore his voice, no answers were forthcoming, so Padmé summoned some food for Obi-Wan.

Dan put the tray of hot soup across Obi-Wan’s lap, wincing when Obi-Wan lifted the entire tureen to his lips, likely searing his tongue and the soft insides of his mouth in doing so. Into Padmé’s hand, Dan pressed a cup of dark tea.

“Yané informed me that you have developed a taste for it. Good choice, if I might say so myself.”

Padmé afforded Dan a smile, feeling more light-hearted. “Now that we’ve found Obi-Wan, you and Yané will soon be able to have time on your own. Perhaps on Theed. The flowers would be in full bloom right about now.”

Dan furrowed his brow in confusion. Then he goggled at her, cheeks flushing. “Oh. No, I would never. I’m afraid you’re mistaken, my lady. It would be a poor match. I am already so old. I have told Yané. I look old enough to be her father. Yours even.” He grabbed his wrists behind his back and stared at his feet. “I’m sure Lady Yané was just confused. After all, we all have spent so much time on this cruiser with only each other for company. There must be some nice strapping young man back on Theed much better suited to her.”

Padmé grew more and more amused at the flustered display. “You have no idea of your own qualities, do you, Dan? True, it might be that we have been each other’s only companions for a long while but you are a good, kind man. Anyone would be lucky to have you, whatever age they might be.”

“If only that were true.”

It was then that Padmé realised she did not know Dan’s story. She should have been more curious as to why any man would choose to enter the service of the Naboo guards at such a late age. Perhaps he had nothing else to go back to. Perhaps the war had taken all of Dan’s friends and family.

“Our friend is done with his soup. Shall I fetch some of the cream pie?” said Dan with a sardonic tilt of his brow.

Padme smiled somewhat apologetically. “I know he doesn’t look like much now, but this is the famous Jedi, Obi-Wan Kenobi. He was a general in the war. He won many battles for us. In fact, he was so good at persuading the other side that there was no need for a fight that we started calling him the Negotiator. Isn’t that such a paradox? Anakin always said he was one of the strongest fighters among the Jedi. Yet, he hated to fight.”

“It sounds like you know him well.”

“Not really. We knew each other for a long time but we only met whenever someone wanted to kill me,” said Padmé, chortling. “He was my husband’s Master. Anakin loved him.”

“But this Obi-Wan cut him down. If your husband loved him before, he wouldn’t now. Obi-Wan is no friend to you. If he was, he wouldn’t have dragged you halfway across the universe searching for him just to get your husband back.”

“Watch your tongue,” said Padmé.

Dan’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry, my lady. I didn’t mean…”

“Blood analysis complete,” said the droid. “Vocal cords suppressed by diluted snark venom. Blood contains traces of nano-mites.”

Yoda sighed and hunched over himself. “As I suspected.” Obi-Wan seized Yoda’s arm, nodding furiously. “As many cream pies as you like, bring him. With Master Fisto I need to discuss.”

Dormé poked her head in. “Excuse me but the pilot tells me there’s a ship hailing us. I think it’s the other Jedi Master.”

“Excellent timing this is. To meet us in Skywalker’s room tell him,” said Yoda. Nodding, Dan left with Dormé. Yoda patted Obi-Wan’s arm. “Rest here you will. Restore you to health we can.”

Obi-Wan sagged back onto the examining table in relief and closing his eyes, drifted quickly to sleep.

x

Once upon a time, there was a Jedi called Anakin Skywalker. He was a brave man, a handsome man, a ridiculous man. He was one of a kind. Annoying, arrogant, yet impossible not to love. At the end of the war, he was put to a long, long sleep. The love of his life, Padmé, searched the entire galaxy to find a cure to wake him up. But one day, he woke up on his own because…because of love. Because he loves Padmé very, very much, and he wants to meet you two as well. You will live happily ever after. I’m sure of it.

x

In Anakin’s room, the Jedi were quarrelling. Padmé wasn’t sure what they were squabbling over because they kept talking over one another. By the sound of it, Quinlan Vos was disagreeing with Yoda and Kit Fisto was chiding him for underestimating Yoda’s insight. They all fell silent when they noticed Padmé’s presence.

“Master Yoda, you were the one who said to meet here in Anakin’s room,” said Padmé. “Have you discovered anything new?”

“We could have if Master Vos would just but do as Master Yoda tells him,” said Kit Fisto.

“If you tell me first why you won’t let me see Obi-Wan,” said Quinlan.

“What is it that Master Yoda has asked you to do?” said Padmé.

Quinlan hesitated, so Kit Fisto spoke up. “Quinlan here is the best at psychometry in the Order. Master Yoda thinks that if he touches Skywalker, he would be able to learn more about the situation.”

“I’ve tried that before all those months ago,” Quinlan protested. “I could touch every part of Skywalker and still not gain a whit more insight. Let me talk to Obi-Wan. I’m sure I can learn more from him.”

“Please just try, Master Vos. Just try this and you can talk to Obi-Wan as long as you like. If you can’t help me, I’m afraid I’d have run out of options,” said Padmé.

Quinlan narrowed his eyes before sighing and mumbling his compliance. Taking a deep breath to centre himself, he reached out a scarred hand and grasped Anakin’s shoulder. He drew a sharp breath.

“What do you see?” said Padmé.

“The Temple. Younglings. Obi-Wan,” said Quinlan Vos, frowning. “I did not sense this the last time. The shields around him are dissipating.”

“He’s waking up?” said Kit Fisto.

Quinlan Vos nodded. Padmé bit back a hopeful cry and laced her fingers together to stop her hands from trembling.

“How is this possible?” said Kit Fisto the same moment Yoda asked Quinlan Vos to explain what else he saw.

Quinlan Vos closed his eyes. “A great duel between Skywalker and Obi-Wan.”

“The last moments before Obi-Wan forced sleep onto young Skywalker these are,” said Yoda.

“A lot of anger. Feelings of betrayal,” Quinlan Vos continued. Beneath his fingers, Anakin twitched. “Skywalker thinks the Jedi have been plotting against the Republic. He suspects that Obi-Wan and his wife have betrayed him with one another. He tells Obi-Wan he has failed as a mentor, friend, brother. He tells Obi-Wan he hates him.”

Padmé wished Quinlan would stop. He was airing out the very worst of Anakin. This wasn’t even Anakin. He had been manipulated. “Is that all?” she said crossly.

Quinlan removed his hand from Anakin. “He is slowly waking up. There is nothing more for me to do here. Can I go see Obi-Wan now?”

“If given in to his hate during his sleep Skywalker has, need you when he wakes we will,” Yoda reminded him.

Padmé followed Quinlan Vos out of the room. “I did not betray Anakin. There was nothing between me and Obi-Wan.” Quinlan grunted that he knew. “Then why won’t you meet my eyes?”

“Do you ever wonder why Obi-Wan didn’t just kill him? Skywalker was terrible as a Padawan. Arrogant, reckless, incapable of following instruction. But he was so strong in the Force that no one could persuade him otherwise. A lesser Jedi would have given up on your husband. Any other Jedi would have disowned him for simply being your husband.” Anger mixed with pity on his face. “Obi-Wan loves him.”

Padme stared. After a while, she asked, “Did you hear him say it?”

Quinlan Vos nodded. “Right before he put Skywalker to sleep.”

“Oh,” said Padmé.

Judging from the sympathetic looks Quinlan Vos was sending her way, he probably thought she was hurting from some sort of perceived betrayal. But he was missing the point.

Anakin had gone to sleep after learning that Obi-Wan loved him, while Obi-Wan had fled into hiding after the man he loved told him he hated him. And here was Padmé and her government, accusing Obi-Wan of treason. They have all treated Obi-Wan unfairly.

“Skywalker could not have asked for a better Master,” spat Quinlan Vos. “but Obi-Wan would never say so himself. And apparently now, he doesn’t even have the voice to say it even if he wanted to.”

“Enough from you, that is, Master Vos,” said Yoda, hobbling out of the room after them. “Told you before, I have. Not Obi-Wan Kenobi, the man we found is.”

“What?” said Padmé.

Yoda addressed her, “Inside yourself, look closely. Ignore the face. Remind you of Obi-Wan, does he?” No, he didn’t. Not at all. But Padmé had chalked it up to all the hardship Obi-Wan had gone through during his months of hiding and under the rough hands of the bounty hunter. “Not my first time coming across nano-mites, this is. Used it we have once before, to turn Obi-Wan into Rako Hardeen.”

“A facial transformation procedure?” said Quinlan. “The bounty hunter must have done it for the reward. That’s why you could not sense the Force within him. He didn’t have any to begin with. But Skywalker is waking up. How do we explain that?”

Padmé looked between the two of them. “Obi-Wan has always told me that Anakin was particularly strong in the Force. Could it just be that?”

Yoda gave a deep, considering hum. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. To see the bounty hunter I will go. Curious I am to see where he purchased the nano-mites.”

“I’ll contact the Council to see if we have an antidote for the poor man who got caught up in all this mess,” said Quinlan.

Padmé nodded. “I will-”

“Rest, Lady Amidala. A trying day for you, this has been,” said Yoda, shuffling away to where Captain Typho was still keeping the Arcona bounty hunter. “See your children, you should go. Missing their mother’s voice, they must be.”

x

Master Yoda was right. She needed to rest, but Padmé didn’t think she could. Not with so many thoughts churning in her head. Anakin was waking up. She still didn’t know what was going to happen after that, but very soon she would see his blue eyes, hear him say her name. She would be able to show him their children. Dark Side or not, Padmé could just imagine to shape of surprise Anakin’s face would take upon realising that they had twins.

And then maybe once everything had calmed down, she could ask him about Obi-Wan. She wanted to know if he’d known before how Obi-Wan had felt about him. She wondered if Anakin had harboured similar feelings for Obi-Wan. Was that why he so easily believed that she would be cavorting with Obi-Wan behind his back?

And if the man they have wasn’t Obi-Wan, where was Obi-Wan now? Padmé still had so many questions. Even if Obi-Wan loved Anakin, even if what he’d done to Anakin tore him apart, that still did not explain why he had decided to run and hide instead of explaining the situation.

Padmé would not have begrudged him his affections for Anakin. In fact, Padmé understood. After all, did she not fall in love with the same man? Who else could understand how frustrating it was to love Anakin better than her? Couldn’t they share their troubles the same way they had shared Anakin during the war? Because that was what they had been doing. Anakin had been hers in the bedroom, but on the battlefield, on the starships, on the joint-missions, he had been Obi-Wan’s.

No. Padmé was certain Obi-Wan did not run because of her. It was something else.

Upon arriving at Luke and Leia’s room, Padmé saw Dan sitting in an armchair in the corner, cradling Luke and Leia in his arms. He was cooing down at them while they patted his cheeks in delighted fondness.

“Buhwa,” babbled Luke, who was still struggling with his words.

“Bwa,” Leia agreed.

Disappointment curled in Padme’s belly. Dan and Yané would have made such a cute couple and any child they would choose to have or adopt would have been lucky. Perhaps after all this, Dan would agree to be contracted as a carer and Luke and Leia would be the lucky ones instead. Satisfied with this plan, Padmé made to interrupt them when she heard Dan starting a story.

“Once upon a time,” he said, “there was a smart Jedi called Anakin Skywalker.”

Smiling to herself, Padmé leaned against the wall and kept out of sight. She’d wondered what kind of stories have been circulating about Anakin. They were probably a lot more flattering than those of Obi-Wan. Once Anakin woke up, she would tease Anakin about his stories and fix those lies about Obi-Wan, no matter what Bail and the Council thought.

Dan continued, “He was an excellent pilot who could fly anything. And he knew many languages, like Huttese and Toydarian.”

Padme nodded along without realising. She had nearly forgotten, but the first time she’d met Anakin in that junk shop on Tatooine, he had been speaking to that Toydarian junk-dealer in his native language.

“And at the age of nine, he built a protocol droid. Yes, he did,” Dan continued.

Ah, yes. Anakin had been so proud. C3PO had been the first sentient droid he’d put together. But Padmé doubted that little detail would have survived the folk retellings of Anakin’s heroics.

“His name was C3PO.”

Padmé blinked. What?

“Anakin built him to help his mother.”

What?

“But after his mother died, he gave C3PO to his wife, Padmé.”

What?

“He was a useful protocol droid, if a little neurotic.”

“How do you know that?” Padmé had not realised she had moved, much less said anything. “Who told you that story?”

Dan’s head snapped up. Luke and Leia, sensing his sudden distress, began to cry. “How long have you been standing there?”

“No one knows Anakin built C3PO. Only me, and Anakin, and…” Padmé didn’t know why she hadn’t seen it before. It was his voice, the way he looked at her, the smile he always had for Luke and Leia, the warmth of his sandpaper touch. ’Ignore the face’, Yoda had said. In trying to stomach the hot ball of hurt lodged in her throat, she broke into tears of astonishment. “Obi-Wan, it’s you, isn’t it?”

Young, weary, blue eyes stared out of Dan’s old face. “Padmé,” he tried, his rough vowels smoothing out to a soft Coruscanti accent. He sighed, and as if he had shrugged off a heavy cloak, the line of his shoulders straightened and the air around him shifted. Padmé heard shouts of exclamation from beyond the room, followed by a scrambling of feet. Padmé wasn’t Force-sensitive, but she could guess what had happened. The other Jedi have finally sensed Obi-Wan’s Force presence.

Quinlan and Kit Fisto stumbled into the room.

“If it’s all the same, I’d rather you berate me later, after these two are asleep,” he said, bouncing Luke and Leia on his lap, making shushing noises until they stopped crying.

x

Quinlan punched Obi-Wan square across the jaw before Padmé could get a word in. “Have you any idea how worried you made us?” he said, chest heaving. “Five months and not a single holo-call? Not even a note to tell us you’re alive! And have what you done to yourself? Nano-mites are dangerous. You should’ve known that from the first time you had to use it.”

“Restrain yourself, Master Vos,” said Kit Fisto.

Obi-Wan winced, rubbing the forming bruise on his jaw with a thumb.“I didn’t use nano-technology. Despite what you might think, this is my real face, so please be careful with it, Quin.”

“But you look like a grandfather,” said Quinlan.

Obi-Wan offered a humourless smirk. “Have any of you tried forcing a Sith Lord into hibernation? It wasn’t easy. Especially not with Anakin’s strength of will.”

The other Jedi stared openly at Obi-Wan. They had never heard of such a side effect of using the Force before.

“Much easier it would have been to kill Skywalker. A huge risk you took to save the boy you once trained. A great life Force, it has taken you,” said Yoda.

Silence prevailed in the awkwardness that filled the room. The thought had been rattling in the head of every other Jedi, but none had expected Yoda to be the one to voice it.

Obi-Wan lifted his chin, defiant. “There was still some good in him. I couldn’t.” He shook his head. “You’re right. Forcing Anakin to sleep took more from me than I realised. I tried to recover on Rhinnal then I went to hide in Tatooine. But when I heard that you were looking for me I knew what I had to do to atone for my mistakes,” he said, looking at Padmé. “I had to look after you and the children. It wasn’t difficult to convince Captain Typho I was one of your men. I’m sorry for the chase I led you on, the exhaustion I’ve caused you, but I’ve been working on Anakin. He will wake up soon enough.”

“And if he is still corrupted by the Dark Side?” said Quinlan. “All you have sacrificed would be for nothing.”

“Anakin would know his children,” Obi-Wan retorted without blinking. “That is not nothing.”

“Your emotions have clouded your judgement. This has always been the case when it comes to Skywalker.”

Obi-Wan did not deny it. “You should go now. I can feel the last of the sleep fading.” As the Jedi crowded into Anakin’s room, ready to receive the next Sith Lord, Obi-Wan said to Padmé’s feet, “I’m sorry I kept him from you for so long. I know it was difficult.”

Padmé took a while to find her words. “You saved him for me. If you hadn’t stopped him then, I know he would have done worse. You stopped him from going down a path I couldn’t follow. And yes, it was difficult.” She held on fast to Obi-Wan’s arms, prompting him to look at her properly. “Thank you. No one else will say this to you, so thank you.”

Obi-Wan tenderly disentangled her grip. He might have uncloaked his Force presence, but his back was still hunched, the area between his eyes remained deeply furrowed. “Let’s go. He will want to see you when he wakes up.”

Anakin’s room was ruled by pin-drop silence when his eyes fluttered open. As he sat up to take stock of his surroundings, Padmé saw Kit Fisto and Quinlan inch closer to one another, edging Obi-Wan out of view. They flinched when Anakin stretched his arms high above his head and yawned. He rubbed sleepy tears from his eyes, frowned at the length of his hair, and leaned back against the headboard of the bed. He regarded the room with a lazy, half-lidded stare. “I can sense him here. There is no use hiding him,” he said and raised his hand.

There was a soft gasp and Obi-Wan slid past Quinlan and Kit Fisto, tugged forward by his chest until the front of his tunic was bunched in Anakin’s fist. Multiple lightsabers illuminated the room.

“Release him, Skywalker,” said Quinlan.

But Anakin had no ear for him. “How long have I been asleep?”

“Barely a year,” Obi-Wan promised.

“Liar. Look at you. At least two decades have been added to your face.”

“I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do about that,” said Obi-Wan with a sardonic shrug. “Look around you. Look at Quinlan. For stars’ sake, Padmé is just there. Does she look 20 years’ older to you?”

Padmé stiffened in anticipation of Anakin’s gaze but when he finally spotted her, his eyes were soft and blue. There was none of the darkness Yoda had warned about. The only difference Padmé could detect was that Anakin felt more wizened somehow. Waving aside the other Jedi’s protests, she drew close to Anakin and placed a hand on his arm. “Hi, Ani.”

“Hi,” he replied, eyes wide and voice full of wonder.

“Did you have a good rest?”

“You’re alive,” said Anakin. “My nightmares didn’t come true. The baby?”

“Babies,” Padmé corrected. “We have twins. One boy, Luke, and one girl, Leia.” Anakin looked exactly how Padmé had pictured. The delight, the awe, the unbridled joy. Padmé could pick it out in every detail of his expression. It made Padmé’s heart soar in a way that melted away the last few months of fatigue. She squeezed his arm gently. “You should let go of Obi-Wan. You’re scaring everyone. They still think you’re a Sith Lord.”

Anakin snorted. “After all that time I have spent communing with the Force and learning that all Sidious had to offer were empty promises? I think not. You can put that away. Lightsabers are a terrible idea at such close quarters.”

“It’s good to know your arrogance came out intact,” said Obi-Wan.

Anakin shifted his attention to Obi-Wan once again with an intensity in his stare that made the other Jedi anxious. “Master.” There were words hidden in the hitch of his breath; too personal and fragile to voice in the presence of others.

“No,” said Obi-Wan and extricated himself from Anakin’s grasp. “Not for a long time now. Masters, you can lower your weapons. I think you can tell by now that - that the boy I have trained has returned.” Obi-Wan looked pointedly at Yoda, who nodded.

With great reluctance, the other Jedi deactivated their lightsabers.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, Anakin, I’ll go fetch your children for you.” Obi-Wan left, keeping his back to Anakin.

Kit Fisto smiled at Padmé. “I am glad for you. Not many get second chances.”

“Thank you,” said Padmé.

Quinlan glared at Anakin, and shaking his head as if he didn’t understand, left the room.

“What else has changed while I was asleep?” said Anakin in a low voice once he was left alone with Padmé.

There would be time to catch him up on everything; on how she was now president, on the planets she has visited, the adventures she had experienced, but first she wanted answers.

“When you went to kill those children, were you yourself?” No, he had been following Palpatine’s orders. He had been convinced the Jedi younglings were part of the conspiracy, and he had needed to murder to grow in strength in the Dark Side.

“Why did you believe Palpatine over me, over Obi-Wan?” Palpatine had promised a way to save Padmé. After losing his mother to the Tusken Raiders, Anakin had not been able to bear losing Padmé the same way. She had to understand. She was everything to him. At the time, Anakin had been ready to forsake everything for her, and he did.

“What are you going to do about Obi-Wan?”

Anakin paused. “What do you mean?”

“He saved you. He gave you a chance at a future with me and your children. He loves you and the last thing you said to him all those months ago was how he had failed you in every single way. Surely, you see the problem here?” said Padmé.

Even as Anakin continued stroking the small of her back - a touch Padmé leaned into because it’s been so long and having him back, awake, and speaking to her almost seemed too good to be true - Anakin brought his gaze down and away from her. “He’s been telling lies about me to our children. I could hear him when I was sleeping. He tells them I’m brave, kind, and loyal when I was the one who betrayed him.” The hand on her back stilled. “Padmé, you know that I love you.”

“I never doubted that,” Padmé assured him.

They were interrupted by Sabé and Dormé, carrying Luke and Leia in. Anakin was so distracted by the sight of them, their smell, the horrible yet wonderful sound of their piercing wails, that only belatedly, he remembered to ask, “But where’s Obi-Wan? I thought he was supposed to bring them.”

“He means Dan,” said Padmé.

Sabé and Dormé exchanged looks.

“Dan just left with the Jedi and the bounty hunter,” said Sabé.

“Master Fisto said they needed to rush back to Coruscant to administer an antidote of some kind to Master Kenobi, and Master Yoda wanted to hand the bounty hunter to the authorities over the purchase of an illegal drug,” said Dormé.

Padmé glowered. “And neither of you thought it was strange that Dan went along with them?” Sabé and Dormé gaped at one another, as if the thought just occurred to them. Padmé sighed and dismissed them. “After all that, he’s run away again. I can’t believe he was hiding under my nose all this time.”

“It’s alright,” said Anakin, letting Luke and Leia play with his cybernetic fingers. “I know where he went.”

“If I told you not to go after him, would you still go?” said Padmé.

Anakin smiled at her. His ease of behaviour had lulled Padmé into such comfort that she had forgotten there was this new aspect to Anakin; something that had grown within him from five months in deep communication with the Force. It was as if there was a different light behind his eyes. “I know we care for one another too much to put each other through such tortures,” he said.

“Have you always loved him?” said Padmé.

“I don’t know,” Anakin admitted. “I don’t know when it started or how long I’ve felt this way. He’s my Master. I never thought I had to make sense of what I felt for him.”

“Quinlan Vos said you thought I was cheating on you with Obi-Wan. Were you angry?” said Padmé. She cocked her head at Anakin’s silence. “You were. Because you thought I betrayed you? Or because you thought I was taking Obi-Wan away from you?”

Anakin forced out a laugh. “I just woke up. Can we start with easier questions?”

“You’ve had eight months to sleep on it,” said Padmé, unable to stifle a smile when Anakin huffed at the pun.

“Both, okay? I know I’m asking a lot-”

“I missed you,” she said, kissing him, smiling when she felt him leaning up into her. “I’ve shared you before. I can share you again.”

Anakin groaned into her lips, wrapping his long fingers around her narrow waist.

On his lap, Leia, who had finally got her vowels right, wondered where ‘bee-wa’ was. She wanted him to tell more stories. She liked the sound of his voice. It was soothing. And because Luke was quick to follow whatever his sister learned, soon the room was filled with high-pitched requests for “bee-wa”. Padmé and Anakin dissolved into laughter, still locked in a kiss.

“Barely awake for an hour and already my children prefer another man,” said Anakin.

x

The restoration of President Amidala’s husband made headlines. The moment their cruiser touched land on Coruscant and the hovercams captured a shot of Anakin, it was all the HoloNet news played for the next 24 hours. Many attempted to speculate the story behind Anakin’s revival; most of them involving how Padmé used her intellect to apprehend the criminal, Obi-Wan Kenobi, who was not seen anywhere because she has sentenced him to the deepest, darkest prison.

A quick word with Bail and the Council of Seven fixed that. Soon, the official story was that Anakin’s former Jedi Master, the honourable Obi-Wan Kenobi, had saved his life through some mysterious power of the Force that required Anakin be put to sleep. Obi-Wan Kenobi had not been a traitor at all, but a loyal, caring Jedi Master.

If the people found the quick turnabout confusing, they didn’t show it. Within a few days, the local theatre company was asking Padmé for her permission to put on an opera about Anakin, the war hero, and Obi-Wan, the Jedi wrongly persecuted by the public. The opera would end tastefully, of course, with Anakin and Obi-Wan reuniting as brothers, instead of dying like most operatic couples. Ruhe, still insistent on celebrating her, extended their invitation to both Anakin and Obi-Wan. Soon, tabloids were paying top credit for a recent holo-photo of Obi-Wan; double the price if Padmé or Anakin were in the picture.

All this made Anakin laugh.

It was a reprieve from hours of meetings with the Jedi High Council as they debated on what to do with him. They could not deny that all of Anakin’s crimes had been a direct influence of Darth Sidious. They had pardoned Jedi under similar circumstances in the past, but the attempted murder of younglings was a terrible crime. That Obi-Wan had prevented it was a stroke of good luck the Jedi were not willing to take advantage of. The Council would have grounded Anakin with weeks of deep meditation, except that was what Anakin had undergone during his time asleep. There was no humane prison for the Jedi as Force-inhibitors were deemed cruel, especially for someone like Anakin, whose connection with the Force ran deep and strong. Anakin offered to be exiled, but he was the President’s husband. They couldn’t exile him. And so, after weeks of long deliberation, the Jedi expelled Anakin Skywalker from the Order.

“Strong in the Force you are,” said Yoda. “A great man you will become. But trust you to be a peacekeeper we cannot.”

“What about Obi-Wan? What has he decided?” Padmé asked Anakin when he related the story to her.

“Yoda tells me he has retired himself from active duty. He’s joined the EduCorps as a librarian in the Jedi Archives.”

Padmé could tell from Anakin’s tone that he wasn’t happy about it. In fact, if the Jedi Council had really wanted to punish Anakin, they should have given him Obi-Wan’s assignment.

“Try to prevent causing a ruckus, alright?” said Padmé, aligning her datapads. Now that she wasn’t hopping from planet to planet, observing the Senate meetings and participating in the Council of Seven was much easier, since they were only a seven-minutes’s ride away. “You’re my husband now. Everything you do reflects on me, and everything that reflects on me reflects on our entire state of government; at least for the next four months No pressure,” she added, smiling at Anakin’s gobsmacked expression.

x

The Jedi Archives was located in the Temple. Getting access was difficult, now that the Jedi no longer fell under the jurisdiction of the Senate. To add to that, the Jedi knew that the only business Padmé had in the archives was Obi-Wan.

After all that he had gone through, the Jedi had been more protective of him. Padmé was allowed in this time because of Luke and Leia. She hadn’t been lying when she told the Jedi sentry that Obi-Wan was the only one who could calm them properly. It had only taken one pitiful “bee-wa” from Luke to melt the heart of those standing guard at the entrance.

Obi-Wan came to the head librarian’s table, sighing exasperatedly, and said, “How many times, Anakin, do I-” before realising who his visitor was. His face lit up as Luke and Leia stretched out their small arms, babbling “bee-wa, bee-wa” in excited tones.

“They know my name,” said Obi-Wan with a delighted chuckle as he took Luke and Leia into his arms. Leia reached up for his beard while Luke curled his tiny fingers around the bridge of his nose. “How in the world?”

Padmé shrugged, smiling. “They miss you. I miss you, Dan.”

Obi-Wan flushed. “I had used the alias ‘Ben’ often enough. Dan was the easiest alternative.”

“I didn’t come here to question your naming choices.”

“No, you’re here about Anakin. I promise you, I didn’t ask him to visit me. I don’t even know how he keeps getting in. He should have been barred now that he’s no longer officially a Jedi,” said Obi-Wan. He shuffled to the nearest chair so he could bounce Luke and Leia on his lap.

“Does that make you sad? That he’s not a Jedi,” said Padmé.

“Considering the other path he nearly took, no, it doesn’t. He’s meant for great things. Qui-Gon sensed that in him from the very beginning. He doesn’t have to be a Jedi to accomplish that.”

“He needs you though.”

Obi-Wan froze. “Padmé, I don’t know what Anakin has been telling you…” He swallowed, backtracking. “You have nothing to fear from me. You never have. Ever since I knew him, he has loved you. All throughout his adolescence, he kept telling me how you were an angel, the loveliest creature in the galaxy. I was just his mentor.”

“You were never ‘just’ anything to him and I’m telling you now that I understand.” Padmé scooped Leia from Obi-Wan when she looked to be in danger of crawling off his lap. “Whatever is stopping you from acting on your feelings for Anakin, don’t let it be me.”

The last time Padmé had seen such a hunted expression on Obi-Wan was when she had uncovered his identity all those weeks ago on her cruiser. She almost pitied Anakin for being in love with a man who was so afraid of his feelings, but if anyone deserved to be won over, was it not Obi-Wan?

She patted his hand and collected Luke back as well. “By the way, you blew it with Yané. She’s now seeing a handsome young cook from Theed.”

“Good for her,” said Obi-Wan.

On her way out, Padmé spotted Anakin hiding behind a column, ready to shock Obi-Wan when he was shelving data-pads. Before he could express surprise at her presence, Padmé pressed a finger to her lips. “I’ve done my part. It’s all up to you now. If you can, persuade him to come with us to that ridiculous celebration on Ruhe. Bail and Mon Mothma are making me attend.”

Anakin grinned and kissed her on the cheek. “I love you.”

“I know.”

x

When Padmé touched down on the city in Ruhe, she hardly recognised it. There were more buildings now, poking through the tops of trees and boasting a certain wealth that Ruhe had severely lacked in its past. There were still children on the streets, but they were running around playing with droids instead of scavenging in the forest. To her utter dismay, in the middle of the city now stood a fountain with a towering statue of her, pouring water from a chalice.

“Please,” she said to the prime minister through a pained smile, “take that down.”

“What’s wrong with it?” said the prime minister anxiously. “Would you like us to add General Skywalker? Or perhaps Master Kenobi?”

Padmé heard Anakin burst into laughter behind her. She directed a glare over her shoulder and was satisfied when Obi-Wan, now masquerading as ‘Dan’ in public with his older visage, clamped a hand over Anakin’s mouth. Turning back to the prime minister, she said, “That’s considerate of you, but I’m not comfortable with any public representation of my person. Not when I’m still alive. You should put a statue of yourself up, prime minister. You have done such a good job leading your people out of poverty.”

There was a prerequisite parade, followed by a banquet which was held in the old Separatist citadel. As they ate, the prime minister politely asked Padmé about the ongoing business of the Senate. When she got tired, Padmé deflected the prime minister’s attention to Anakin and his efforts, as the head of the Imperial Storm Troopers, in dismantling the intergalactic criminal organisations operating within the Republic. When Padmé returned from her short trip to the refresher, however, both Anakin and Obi-Wan were missing.

“They went to get some fresh air. Would you like me to accompany you?” said the prime minister, already getting up from her seat.

“No, that’s very kind of you. I can manage on my own,” Padmé assured her.

Doubtless, Anakin and Obi-Wan had wandered off to reminisce. Eager to get some time away on her own, Padmé strolled along the tall corridors of the citadel. The general population of Ruhe had been invited to attend the banquet. Young men were racing one another across the receiving hall, mothers were fussing over their children, adolescent girls were comparing and complimenting dresses, and old men were dozing off into their drinks. Padmé stuck to the shadows, content on watching the people celebrate their good fortune.

She did not come across Anakin and Obi-Wan until she reached the uppermost floor. They were sitting on the landing platform with their feet swinging off the edge, high above the merriment. The physical distance between them belied the awkwardness that persisted in their relationship when left alone.

Padmé stifled a gasp when Anakin leaned over and kissed Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan gently pushed him away, shaking his head. “We’ve discussed this, Anakin.”

“No, we’ve not. You told me what you thought. You never considered what I had to say,” said Anakin.

“You’re confused,” insisted Obi-Wan. “You don’t want this.”

Anakin snapped, “Don’t presume to know what I want. I’ve had months to think about this. If you don’t want me then have the courage to say so.”

Obi-Wan waved a hand down at himself. “I’m an old man now.”

“You’ve always been an old man.”

Still, Obi-Wan shook his head. “You belong with Padmé and I with the Jedi. Let us part ways amiably.”

“Why does your happiness mean so little to you?” snarled Anakin.

Obi-Wan stood up to escape as he’d always done but Anakin had reached the end of his patience. With a twist of his body and some help from the Force, he pinned Obi-Wan down on the platform. “Let me go,” said Obi-Wan in a low, dangerous voice.

“Not until you explain this to me. I’ve waited long enough. I know you love me. I could hear it in your voice when you told Luke and Leia all those stories about me. I can feel in throbbing in the Force like I can feel your heart beating under my hand. So tell me why you won’t act on it.”

“Because you hate me," whispered Obi-Wan. “Because I have failed you as a mentor, friend, brother.” Hearing his own words thrown back at him jarred Anakin to the point that Obi-Wan easily threw him off. Obi-Wan climbed to his feet, brushing off dust and tugging down his tunic as if he had not just bared the kernel of his wounded feelings.

“I’ve never apologised for that, have I?” said Anakin, sounding small. “I wasn’t myself when I said that, but I said it anyway.”

Obi-Wan began walking away, and Padmé shrunk in on herself in her hiding place because he was heading towards her.

Until Anakin said, “Obi-Wan, wait,” and in spite of himself, Obi-Wan did. “Do you remember what I said to you all those months ago before you left for Utapau? I'd repeat them today and mean them more than ever.” Padmé wondered what words those were. Anakin had assured her that he had never pledged his love to Obi-Wan, that it has been the secret he harboured even through his years of resenting Obi-Wan's fussing. So what promises did Anakin give to Obi-Wan before Utapau? Obi-Wan obviously remembered them because every line in his body has gone rigid. But he remained resolute in his silence and at long last, Anakin deflated. “After all this time, have you given up on me?”

The muscle in Obi-Wan’s jaw jumped, but to Anakin his uncertain silence was the last nail in the coffin. Padmé could see her husband grow small behind Obi-Wan. She wanted to grab Obi-Wan and shake him.

“Will you still come see the children at least?” said Anakin.

The accumulated tension of all their unresolved conflicts hung in the air. For once, Anakin was begging forgiveness and Obi-Wan was withholding it. For once, Anakin was not confident of his place in Obi-Wan's affections and the terrible fear of how he should move forward showed on his face.

Obi-Wan sighed. “So much has happened between us. I find it almost as difficult to forgive myself as it is to forgive you."

Anakin flinched. He would have preferred a rebuke. "Master," he began but broke off with a sound of surprise as Obi-Wan slotted his lips over his.

"It's too late," said Obi-Wan with a wry smile. "I've given too much of myself to you."

“I’m sorry.”

As their silhouettes joined again, Padmé turned her head away, having intruded on their privacy enough for one night. She trod back to the banquet hall where the prime minister enquired after her long sojourn. “Is everything alright, Empress Amidala?”

Padmé lowered her gaze, considering the question, before giving the prime minister her first unvarnished smile of the evening. “It will be.”