The Proposal

Anakin brought the huge bloom of the red
maute up to his nose and breathed deeply.
Smiling, he breathed in the delicate
fragrance again. His thoughts of Padme,
standing with him on this same weather-beaten
balcony of the villa, what seemed ages ago,
flooded his mind.

(She said she loves me. Truly, deeply loves
me), he thought, hearing the way she had
made the avowal moments before their foiled
executions. But, as he thought about it
now, she had confessed to him under duress.

Absent-mindedly, he twirled the dainty
flower between the mechanized fingers of
his artificial hand. (She *must* say yes),
he hoped desperately. (We really love each
other. There's no reason in the galaxy for
us not to be together.) He didn't care
about how many pretexts there were that
weighed heavily against such a union.

(We'll get married), he stubbornly persisted,
(and live happily for the rest of our lives.)

His mind, at flash point, spun. His own
ears heard himself mutter the spate of
reckless words to himself, "I'll beg if I
have to, and if I have to, I'll sure as all
the Sith Lords combined, beg..." His
decision to perpetrate this last ditch course
of action didn't make him feel any better.

If begging failed, he could always kidnap
her. Kidnap her! Force that! What was
getting into him? Was he going mad? Kidnap
her, taking her by force, using The Force?
He shuddered. Her love for him would
devolve into pure hate, and he'd hate himself
along with her.

Obi-Wan, in the company of the remaining
Jedi, would hunt him down like the criminal
they'd make him out to be. Bounty hunters,
those scum, could be involved too, if Padme's
family decided to go that route. Anakin,
having sensed her parents' intense love for
their daughter, knew they would spare no
expense for her safe return. (Her protector
turned renegade), he thought, grimacing.

He shrugged, looking chronically dismal.
Their love for each other was the only thing
that mattered, but the good feelings those
thoughts engendered were overshadowed by
these negative contemplations, as was
normally his way of thinking things through
to conclusion.

It was all too clear. He realized that
what would satisfy him was impossible.
Wasn't it? Of course it was. She had said
so herself. It was impossible for them to
be together the way they needed to be.

Padme was right; she had a knack for it.
They had their obligations, and commitments
to the greater good to fulfill. If they
began a married relationship, an openly
romantic sort of relationship of any kind,
it would destroy everything they had worked
so hard to accomplish thus far. He didn't
see why that had to be the reality, but,
gallingly, it was, nevertheless.

Life was so unfair. It really had never
been fair with him. In acute frustration,
Anakin crossed his eyes, shook his head,
and was about to bang the fragile blossom
to the hardness of the balcony's stone ledge
he leaned against, but the gentle voice of
the strong woman he loved stopped him.

"There you are."

The Light Side of the Force absorbed the dark
mood he had flung himself into. His trouble
always seemed to gravitate around his being so
negative. And yet, the more powerful, more
dominant, and the side of the ancient power
possessing the supreme ability to permeate
so thoroughly, had seized the upper hand yet
again whenever Anakin's will faltered.

Yes, the whispered breath of good, coupled
with his beloved's sweet tone of voice,
dragged him up from the mire of despair.

"Ani?"

Padme, dressed in a flowing sun-yellow dress,
with stripes of gold overlaying its skirt,
was beaming at him. The dress masked her
supple shoulders and back in shimmery gauze.
Her thick hair, flecked with little sparkly
golden specks, framed her beautiful face just
the way he liked it. "I've been looking
everywhere for you."

He spun around to face her. (Can't hide from
you), he whimsically thought. Anakin cast his
eyes downward as though the gyopastone of the
paving held some special fascination he had to
surrender his undivided attention to. Still
not looking up, he answered, "Oh, have you?"
Haltingly, he raised his eyes to her attentive-
looking face.

It was easy for her to see how pale, drawn
and forlorn he looked. Sad to say, she had
seen that perplexing expression on his face
many times before; at fireside the night
he had expressed his true feelings for her,
to name one occasion as a for instance.

There was no question in her mind of how
much of a man he was. A strength of
character and determination emanated from
him, drove him; clung to him snugly like a
second skin. But, with his looking the way
he was now, she was reminded of the
compelling face of the small boy he once was.
He had transformed into the child who craved
nuturing and optimal care and attention.
"Where have you been hiding?

Her off-the-cuff remark had been bantered in
jest, but it made the foreboding in his eyes
darker still. "I'm not hiding," he insisted
as Padme slipped in beside him, threading
her arm through the slice of space she had
won by forcibly wriggling her arm so he
would allow it room. They stood side by side
in constrained silence until finally he said,
"I couldn't find you. Sola had no idea where
you were--"

"You could have used the Force, you know."
She patted his hand, the replaced one, and he
let the friable, worn-looking flower feed
into her hand whose thumb was softly tracing
the outline of his thumb's nail bed.

"I didn't feel like it." He bit his lip.
He sank his teeth in so hard, the faint
taste of blood wasn't in his imagination.
He used his tongue to sweep away the
light trace so Padme was none the wiser,
he hoped. "I wanted to be alone for a while."
Why was he being like this? Why was he being
so sure of what she would say? Why was he
doing his best to close himself off, and shut
her out? "I came here to think." His long,
windy sigh hung upon the air. "I like looking
at the lake from this vantage. Seeing the
water helps me concentrate."

"It is beautiful, isn't it." Her statement
caused him to nod, and then quietly he took
her small hand, with blossom and all, into
his.

(It looks so peaceful and calm. The exact
opposite of how I am... Inside, I'm a raging
sea so often), he lamented. (What must I do
to stop feeling this way so much?)

"It's good for me." His heart began beating
even more rapidly. He tried extracting his
hand from hers, but she wouldn't let it go.
"Pa-Padme..." He cursed the unsteadiness
he heard rattling around in his voice.
"Padme..."

"Yes, Ani?" She moved even closer to him.
Her gentle squeeze of his hand was all the
encouragement he needed.

"If I ask you something, will you promise
not to laugh?"

Sounding as if she were scoffing she replied,
"Laughing at something that is meant to be
serious is just plain rude. I'd never laugh
at you, Anakin. Unless you made a joke on
purpose, of course. If I didn't laugh when
I was supposed to, that wouldn't be very
good either."

With his eyes taking on a faraway look, he
continued. Still shakily, he did so, "I...I
kind of wish we were back in the meadow. And
I was making you laugh the way you did that
day."

"That was such a nice day. One of the nicest
I've had in a very long time. The reason
it was so nice was because I shared it with
you." Her big brown eyes hugged his glassy-
looking blue ones, and Padme wished he would
just go ahead and speak his mind. He looked
as if he would burst if he didn't. He should
just tell her what seemed to be eating him
alive. Possessing the Force wasn't necessary
for her to sense his deep preoccupation with
floundering. A sensitive woman's intuition
was a powerful thing in its own humble right.

"About what you said..." He hadn't meant to
blurt it, making it sound as though he had
a transport, leaving in the next few moments,
to catch.

"Yes? About what I said about what?"

"You know..." Slow down, he mentally
admonished himself. (Focus on the present.
*Focus*--focus, or forget the whole thing.
Focus on the fact that she has already
told you how much she loves you), he
re-emphasized. (Don't forget to breathe.)

He realized in that moment how much of
Obi-Wan's endless lectures had rubbed off.
It was as though his Master's voice was
droning in his head.

"Could you give me a hint?" she said,
innocently cajoling him along.

"Before they hauled us into the arena...
What you said..." Not meaning to sound
quite so irritated he pushed, "You know..."

(He is downright *edible* when he gets
this shy), she deliberated. Her eyes lit
up, her suspicion already having been
confirmed the minute she'd seen his
screwed-up looking face, but loving the way
she was making him sweat. A woman deeply
in love thrived on this sort of thing.

(DO IT--DO IT NOW!) his reason, which left
him feeling woebegone, mandated.

"I...I," he stumbled. (I'm warning you),
he threatened himself again. "I LOVE you
so MUCH, Padme," he gritted through his
teeth. "I've never felt so strongly about
anything before. Before you, I mean. The
only person who has ever loved me more than
she'll ever know now, how much I loved her,
was Mom..." He had to blink back the rush
of hot tears that threatened to spill from
is eyes which already felt swollen.

Padme anchored her left arm around his waist,
and hugged him tightly. Her right hand
buttressed itself against his middle, which
she felt quiver. She was grounding herself
in the process. "I love YOU, Anakin, and I
*always* will," she whispered close to his
heart as she snuggled deeply into him.

"Padme?"

"Yes, my love..."

Hearing that endearment made his breath
catch, audibly, and though it was difficult
to go on for an entirely different reason
this time, he did. He forced himself with
the invaluable assistance of the Force.
"Pad--"

"I'm all ears, sweetheart..."

Gulping, the Padawan knew it was time to make
the leap, no looking back. "Will you marry
me?" He hadn't flinched, but never had one
single question ever taken so much from him
to get out.

"Silly, dear." She jiggled his arm, his
whole body, actually, with her rocking
motion. Impossible boy..." Her face seemed
to ooze mirth.

(She *promised* that she wouldn't), Anakin
carped, wishing that he was anyplace but
here.

His face really fell then; he knew exactly
that this was what she would say all along.
The reaction he had dreaded hearing still
rang in his ears. How dare she look so
pleased.

(Impossible--naturally. I just knew it),
he groused, and pulled his hand from hers,
visibly upset, so much so that he didn't
want to be near her anymore, and he began
inching away.

Possessively, Padme clamped down on his
crafted forearm. "I thought you'd *never*
ask." She giggled, sounding triumphant. "I
was beginning to think I'd have to be the
one to, Mister Skywalker..."

"Huh?" he seemed to mouth. For some arcane
reason, the hole between his nose and chin
wasn't working right. It felt like it was
filled with coarse, disgusting sand. He
shook his head, feeling dazed. "Huh?"

"Oh, Ani, you're priceless. Is that all
you're going to say?" The Senator rose up
upon her tiptoes, and did her best at working
the entrenched frown from his forehead by
lightly kissing his right cheek. "Of course
I will marry you. Was there ever any doubt?
How about making it as soon as possible. Do
you think tomorrow's too soon?"

"Punch me," he ordered, indicating his
breadbasket.

Padme blinked at him in disbelief. "Punch
you? What for?"

"Just do it. I have to be certain."

"Certain about what?"

"Certain I'm not dreaming. Did you just
say you *will* marry me?"

Cupping his face within her supplicatory
hands, Padme assured, "No, dearest, you're
not dreaming." He took stock of the level
of commitment shining in her eyes which
drew his to them like magnets. "I said yes.
I want to be your wife."

"But, but what about--"

"I know what you're about to say, and after
giving our situation a lot of extra thought,
I've decided the rest of the galaxy can
mind their own business. Let's just take
it one decision at a time. Okay?" Her
dumbfounded betrothed gamely nodded. Then,
sounding even more prudent, she judiciously
added, "If you decide we should tell
everyone, then, fine. We'll tell. If you
decide we keep our marriage hush-hush, then
we'll do that."

After she kissed the tip of his nose,
Anakin, more than a little shocked, mustered
up enough gumption to say, "Whatever *I*
decide?"

Nodding, Padme reiterated, "Yes, you. I
trust your judgment, Ani, and the unique
power of insight you've been blessed with.
Besides, I'd like to get our marriage off
to a, 'I leave the tricky--translation,
I don't want to deal--decisions up to my
spouse, good start.'" Elbowing him, she
kidded, "My mom did not raise a stupid
child. My mother and father never quarrel."

"*Never*?" Anakin teased, allowing Padme
to carelessly fiddle with his Padawan braid.

"Not a day in their married lives."

"How can you be that sure? What about
before you were born?"

Padme's clipped laugh sounded more like a
snort. "What they did before I showed up
doesn't count," she told him flatly. "It's
how they behaved once I reached an age when
I could appreciate their concord that
counts." She nudged him again. "Don't you
roll those big baby blues at me, Anakin
Skywalker."

Anakin bridled his frisky tongue. "Yes,
m'lady..."

"Honestly. Mom leaves all the major family
issues for Dad to decide, and I happen to
think that we are a happier family for it.
He seeks her input, but she expects him to
make the final call."

"How about we try it in reverse, though."

"In reverse?"

"You handle all the major family issues that
come up, and I'll take care of the loving
you like crazy part."

Lightly, she smacked his arm, the one she
no longer saw as having been replaced, and
he burst into boyish laughter. "Oh, you.
Coward," she ribbed.

"Yeah." His laughter hadn't quite subsided.
"Like a crafty old womp rat..."

She encouraged both of his hands up to her
mouth and kissed the identical sets of
knuckles.

"How about this. When a really big, Wampa-
sized decision has to be made, we let it
ride for a day, however long the length of
said day happens to be, depending on
whatever planet we happen to be on at the
time, so we can sleep on it. What do you
think?"

"I think," Padme sallied, "you're going to
make me a terrific husband, Mister Skywalker.
I could never want nor hope for a better
one..."

From not too far off, the night trillers
trilled their melodious, high-pitched song,
filling the air with a rhythmic peacefulness.
Naboo's rising huge, full moon blanketed
both the firmament and the terrain in
tranquil, refulgent light.

Anakin gathered Padme tenderly into his
grateful arms, and when he heard her sigh
in contentment, said, "I'm with you; the
sooner we present ourselves to a holy man,
any one will do, the better. Tomorrow
sounds just great to me."

Burying her face in his heaving chest, Padme
whole-heartedly agreed, "Me too."

Sounding tentative, he offered, "We should
tell your parents. I mean, after all,
you'll be their first daughter getting
married. I think they'd be pretty upset if
they missed you taking the vows. I don't
know...telling them just feels like the
right thing to do."

"I was hoping that's what you'd say."
Anakin kissed her temple. The germ of
furthering his idea urged her to disclose in
a rush, "But, let's get married *first,*
here, on this very balcony, and once we are,
we'll go to my parents' home, and tell them
together." Padme said with a flurry of
pride, "If I know Mom, she'll throw us the
biggest gala, the grandest fete in the
province."

"*After* we're married?" He gave her the
best his chary-looking eyes had to offer.
"Tell them after?"

"Yes, *after*. So there's no possibility at
all of their saying, 'no.'"

"You think there's the slightest chance that
they won't approve?" Anakin's glower began
reasserting itself.

"NO," Padme insisted with a defiant toss of
her head. "Not a chance in any one of the
bynanthium smelting pits on Geonosis. They
adore you so already, Ani. You saw how they
were. They can't stop thanking you enough
for being such a good protector since they
think you lost your arm battling to protect
me."

"Yeah, but who led them to believe that?"
he asked pointedly.

"Me," Padme touted, "and we'll let them go
right on thinking that."

"B-but--"

"Accepting you *won't* be a problem. Trust
me. I just feel that it'll be better,
telling them after, just in case."

"Just in case, huh..." (When it'll be too
late for them to do anything about us.)
Anakin's inner sense of foresight balked,
but he hid his reservations well, so well
in fact that his smile stayed intact.

Her parents not wanting him in the family,
and venting any displeasure had never crossed
his mind, until now. He pushed the cloying
negativity away from his being. They'd cross
that footbridge in the form of her parents'
reaction when they came to it. The idea
of not telling her folks beforehand still
didn't sit too well, but he mentally shrugged
it off.

"Uh...think we'll have to skip any huge
celebration, though. Our marriage won't be
a secret from your family, but half the
population of Naboo doesn't have to be any
the wiser about us."

She pinched his middle. "Can we sleep on
it?" she said in a jocund tone, lining up
her forehead even with his, once he had
lifted her up to sit on the broad ledge so
they saw each other eye to eye.

"Not necessary. Wouldn't want to get on
the wrong side of my future mother-in-law
from the starting gate. If Mom wants to
hold a modest celebration in our honor,
that's okay; immediate family. How's that?"

His bride-to-be nodded, loving the way he
was trying so hard to be accommodative.
"Fifty to hundred of our clan's closest
relatives... I come from a fairly large
family. Didn't I tell you?"

Anakin groaned, but grinned nonetheless.

"Only joking. Not about the large family,
but keeping the numbers strictly immediate,
the way you want."

"You're the best, Pad."

When their lips impatiently met, the
trillers' stark songs of rejoicing seemed
to reverberate tinklingly everywhere
throughout the sleepy, picturesque
countryside wherein the thready twilight
was quickly being engulfed by the deeper,
somberer shadings of nightfall.

His arms enfolded her, crushing her lithe
body into his giving form, and against her
hair, Anakin breathed, "I love you, Pad."
Feeling her nod against him, he smiled the
biggest smile he had ever permitted himself
to smile, in his life. His eyes misted for
sheer joy.

The weightless flower dangling from the
fingers of Padme's hand, which was busy
clutching Anakin's left shoulder, wafted
through the floral-scented air as it flitted
from her hand to the ground.

"I love you more," was her firm attestation.
With even more abandon, she molded herself
with stronger zeal to his willing body,
determined to meld with the dynamic essence
of his passion.

"No--me!" His mouth devoured hers.

He would never stop believing in their love,
and the heartfelt pledges they'd sworn,
boasting its expression, for as long as
they both lived.

It comforted him to know that the darkness,
and he did not deceive himself into thinking
that it didn't co-exist with the light,
within him, would never overpower the good
man he truly was, the man who merely
desired a little happiness for himself; not
now, not ever. The arrester of the dark
side had a name.

Her name was Padme.

End... But, just the beginning.