“Whatever you’re planning, it won’t work.” “I disagree,” Finn replied without hesitation. “I was told escape from the corps was impossible, yet here I am. I was told that training prevented anyone from turning against the Order, yet here I am. I was told that I was going to die on Jakku, yet here I am.” (The Force Awakens by Alan Dean Foster)
Anakin, though, didn’t see either of them. He focused on the third person in the room, Padme, and on her alone, and if he had ever held any moments of doubt that she was as beautiful as he remember her, they were washed away, then and there. His eyes roamed the Senator’s small and shapely frame in her black and deep purple robes, taking in every detail. He saw her thick brown hair, drawn up high and far at the back of her head in a basketlike accessory, and wanted to lost himself in it. He saw her eyes and wanted to stare into them for eternity. He saw her lips, and wanted to…
Anakin closed his eyes for just a moment and inhaled deeply, and he could smell her again, the scent that had been burned into him as Padme’s.
It took every ounce of willpower he could muster to walk in slowly and respectfully behind Obi-Wan, and not merely rush in and crush Padme in a hug… and yet, paradoxically, it took every bit of his willpower to move his legs, which were suddenly seeming so very weak, and take that first step into the room, that first step toward her.
sat at her vanity, brushing her thick brown hair, staring into the mirror but not really seeing anything there. Her thoughts were replaying again and again the image of Anakin, the look he had given her. She heard his words again, “…grown more beautiful,” and though Padmé
was undeniably that, those were not words she was used to hearing. Since she had been a young girl, Padmé
had been involved in politics, quickly rising to powerful and influential positions. Most of the men she had come into contact with had been more concerned with what she could bring to them in practical term than with her beauty, or, for that matter, with any true personal feelings for her. As Queen of Naboo and now as Senator, Padmé
was well aware that she was attractive to men in ways deeper than physical attraction, in ways deeper than any emotional bond.
Or perhaps not deeper than the latter, she told herself, for she could not deny the intensity in Anakin’s eyes as he had looked at her.
But what did it mean?
She saw him again, in her thoughts. And clearly. Her mental eye roamed over his lean and strong frame, over his face, tight with the intensity that she had always admired, and yet with eyes sparkling with joy, with mischief, with…
That thought stopped the Senator. Her hands slipped down to her sides, and she sat there, staring at herself, judging her own appearance as Anakin might.
After a few long moments, Padmé
shook her head, telling herself that it was crazy. Anakin was a Jedi now. That was their dedication and their oath, and those things, above all else, were things Padmé
How could he even look at her in such a manner?
So it was all her imagination.
Or was it her fantasy?
Laughing at herself, Padmé
lifted her brush to her hair again, but she paused before she had even begun. She was wearing a silky white nightgown, and there were, after all, security cams in her room. Those cams had never really bothered her, since she had always look at them clinically. Security cams, with guards watching her every move, were a fact of her existence, and so she had learned to go about her daily routines, even the private ones, without a second thought to the intrusive eyes.
But now she realized that a certain young Jedi might be on the other end of those lenses.