One Path Chapter 16--A Turn in the Road
Title: A Turn in the Road
Author: Lionchilde
Summary: "But what about your life? What about Padme Amidala?
Rating: PG
Length: Around 2700 words
Category: Angst/Drama
Pairings/Charaters: Obidala
A/N: One Path Chapter 16. Anakin and Padme are on Naboo and the investigation continues, set during an alternate AtoC. References to Rogue Planet by Greg Bear, but no major spoilers. You don't have to have read the book to follow the chapter, either.
A Turn In The Road
Anakin was right, Obi Wan decided. He did not like flying. Perhaps he should pass the trip through hyperspace in meditation, he thought. Then his lips turned up in a smile at a sudden flash of memory. Thracia Cho-Leem had convinced the council to send him, along with Anakin, to find her former Padawan, Vergere. Anakin hadn't quite been thirteen when that mission began.
"Where do you go when you meditate?" Anakin asked as they sat aboard a Republic transport at the start of that mission, disturbing his Master's recently begun meditation.
"To a state of mind and body where I reacquaint myself with simplicity," Obi Wan replied, smiling affectionately at the question.
"I don't meditate very often," remarked Anakin, wrinkling his nose.
"I've noticed," Obi Wan replied dryly, but there was no rebuke hidden in his humor.
"I get to a certain point and I just overload. It's like I'm plugging into a supernova. Something goes blooey in me. I don't like it," Anakin explained.
The statement had surprised Obi Wan, though he had carefully hidden his reaction, saying casually that they should work on the problem during their journey. It was something that Anakin had never confided in him before, but upon reflection, he realized that he should have expected it. The boy's midi-chlorian count was far beyond that of any Jedi in the Order--even Master Yoda. Such extreme sensitivity to the Force made it difficult for him to temper himself under ordinary conditions. He was already aware of the Force swirling around him in ways that Obi Wan had never been--often felt pulled in multiple directions and full of an excessive energy that made him restless and impulsive.
At times that impulsiveness was endearing. Later during the same mission, he had come upon Anakin brooding while they waited for Zenoma Sekot to answer their landing request. Obi Wan had chided him lightly, and Anakin responded by wrapping his arms around his Master in a fierce hug that took the Knight completely off guard.
Other times--more times than the Master could count--that impulsiveness led to pain for both of them. Obi Wan keenly felt every mistake Anakin made, more so because his role as Master almost always prevented him from lessening or ending the pain and sorrow of those mistakes, even when he was able. The mission he'd been thinking of, the mission that took them to Zenoma Sekot, had brought him face to face with that reality in a way that he had never been before or since. Thracia had been right in saying that it would do them both good to be sent away from the temple, though. Despite the ordeal that ensued for Anakin, he could not regret the assignment itself. It had been then that he first came to recognize the depth of his connection with his Padawan.
He had been relieved and glad that it had been Thracia who came to counsel Anakin when it was over. Her life experiences gave her a perspective different from any other Jedi he knew; she understood children in a way that the rest could not…
He let out a soft groan and ran a hand over his face. Thracia Cho-Leem had left the Jedi Order. She understood children because her perspective was that of a mother. She had married--more than once, apparently, and had declared to Master Windu that she had many sons and daughters, on many worlds. Obi Wan didn't know the exact circumstances of her decision to leave the Jedi, or her return shortly before she asked the Council to send him to Sekot. He did know that her return was well received. None of the Council had harbored any ill feelings or shown any misgivings about her. She seemed to have a special rapport with Master Windu, who had welcomed her warmly, and that imposing figure was not known to let personal friendships sway his judgment in regard to matters which concerned the good of the Order. She had left again, a few months after he and Anakin returned, offering no explanation. Obi Wan had never spoken to her about Padme; there had seemed no point. Leaving the Order had been beyond the scope of his imagination, and he had told himself that it would serve no purpose to ask Thracia where she stood on the issue of marriage now, since Padme's feelings toward him had been entirely platonic.
"Whether Padme loves you or not--what change in your feelings? To hold to your love for Padme or to the teachings of the Jedi. That is your choice, Obi Wan. It matters not if she feels as you do."
He knew now that Yoda was right. The question was not whether he should marry Padme. It was what--truthfully--was more important to him, his commitment to the way of the Jedi or his undeniable love for her. It had very little to do with whether she loved him in return. Until a few days ago, the possibility never entered his mind. Yet she had always been with him--in him--even when he had convinced himself that the matter was long settled in his heart. The Jedi Code dictated that she could not remain there. He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head. A few hours before, watching Yoda with the Bear Clan, he had known without a doubt that his place was with the Jedi. Now, here he was again, a mass of contradiction. What else was it that Thracia had said? She'd been talking about Yoda, as he recalled.
"That big-eared tree stump knows nothing about human children. And for that matter, neither do you. You've never married, Mace! I have… Sometimes I think you should all take a break, as I did, and sniff the real air, see how the Force manifests in everyday life, rather than mope around learning how to swing lightsabers."
He had expected Master Windu to react with indignation at the very least. Instead, the man's eyes had lit up and he broke into a rare, wide and completely unguarded smile. He felt only gladness that his friend had returned, was honored by her presence, and since the Council had agreed with her assessment that Anakin needed time away from the temple, they obviously had a high regard for her unique perspective.
Well, unique for a Jedi, he amended with a smile.
He had shoved the memory away, refused to even consider the idea. He'd taken refuge in his duties, in his promise to Qui-Gon, in Anakin's dependence on him, because Padme hadn't loved him and he couldn't imagine what he would do with himself, what he would become, utterly alone, apart from both her and the family of the Jedi. He knew himself well enough now to realize that he could, if necessary, be alone. Certainly, he didn't relish the idea, but there was no fear of loneliness in him now. Padme's decision to end their friendship after Devaron had forced him to confront that fear in a way that he had not anticipated. He had been unable to share the pain of that loss with his fellow Jedi, and certainly not with Anakin, who other than Padme herself, had been his closest friend for ten years. As such, he'd had to learn what it meant to be alone in the midst of those he loved.
Now his heart beat faster, and he forced himself to breathe normally. The change he'd sensed in her feelings after the explosion hadn't faded after the moment of crisis passed. If anything, those feelings had been stronger when he'd given her the comlink. She hadn't been frightened or in need of comfort then; she had seen him clearly. There was still conflict in her, as he considered the encounter, turning the memory over in his mind for a closer examination, he thought the turmoil centered not on him but on what he was--a Jedi Knight. If he wasn't though…if he took…a break? No. He shook his head, dismissing the notion as quickly as it occurred. The problem with that mindset was that it allowed him to avoid any commitment at all. It might have been enough to say he was leaving the Jedi Order for a time, to consider his options, to adopt a life of solitude, but for him the decision to marry Padme was not one that could be made with a window for "in case."
"There is no try, Obi Wan. Only do. Or do not. Choose, you must," Yoda had said, and he was right. The path of Thracia Cho-Leem, constantly shifting between lives, never remaining on a steady course, was not the path that the Force had laid out for Obi Wan Kenobi. If he left the Jedi to marry, he would not be taking a sabbatical, however extended. He would be choosing Padme. He would be her husband. Forever. He could not enter into a life with her and be constantly looking back, constantly thinking of the Jedi as his family and the temple as his real home. A mind and heart so divided would eventually destroy him and probably Padme with him. It would destroy any happiness that married life could have given them. Padme deserved a rich and happy life, with a man who would love her completely. He would be that man--or he would step aside and free both of them. Still, it was comforting to realize that he would not have to sever ties with the Order the way that Count Dooku had done, that there need be no tension between himself and the people he cared for most.
***
"This danger you're in. It's about the Military Creation Act," Sola Naberrie asked. It wasn't a question, and Padme only nodded in reply. After her audience with Queen Jamillia, she and Anakin had walked from the palace to her family home. Her father had taken Anakin off to the garden, and Padme now sat on the bench swing with her sister, watching her two nieces play with Artoo nearby.
"The Republic is all in a tumult, but not to fear, for Senator Amidala will put it all aright," Sola said.
Padme's eyes widened and she turned to face her sister. She knew that Sola wished she would have retired at the end of her second term as Naboo's monarch, but the older woman's sarcasm still surprised her.
"That's what you do, right?" Sola asked innocently.
"It's what I try to do," Padme said a bit uncomfortably.
"It's all you try to do," Sola corrected.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Padme asked with a confused expression. "I am a Senator, after all."
"A Senator after a Queen, and probably with many more offices ahead of her," Sola said, glancing back at the playhouse to call, "Ryoo, Pooja, ease up!"
"You speak as if it's a bad thing," Padme frowned.
"It's a great thing," Sola disagreed. "If you're doing it all for the right reasons."
"You don't think I am?" asked Padme.
"I think you've convinced yourself that you're indispensable to the Republic," Sola said with a slight shrug. "That they couldn't get along at all without you."
"Sis!" Padme exclaimed in disbelief.
"It's true," Sola insisted. "You give and give and give and give. Don't you ever want to take, just a little?"
"Take what?" Padme asked with a nervous smile.
"Look at them. I see the sparkle in your eyes when you watch my children. I know how much you love them," Sola gestured toward the girls again.
"Of course I do!"
"Wouldn't you like to have children of your own?" Sola asked. "A family of your own?"
Padme felt herself straighten. Her mouth went dry, and there was a sudden tightness in the pit of her stomach. "Are you talking about Ian?" she asked, deflecting the question.
"I don't know," Sola said knowingly. "Am I talking about Ian?"
Padme swallowed. Her brief romance with Ian Lago had ended more than ten years ago when she became Queen of Naboo. Since that time, she hadn't seen him. Nor had there ever been another man in her life. She had always told herself that she was simply too busy. There were too many other concerns demanding her time and attention. It was true--but hadn't there been a moment…?
"What are you running from?" Sola asked candidly.
Feeling her cheeks flush, Padme shook her head, but her sister continued to wait with the expectant air of an older sibling. "I'm not running from anything," she denied.
"I don't think I've ever seen you blush like that," Sola remarked, eyebrow rising.
Padme's hand rose self consciously to her cheek. "I…" she began, swallowing again as she realized suddenly that it was the same cheek his lips had brushed. Two years ago now. "I'm working right now for something I deeply believe in. For something that's important."
"But what about your life? What about Padme Amidala? Have you even thought about what might make your life better? Most people who have been in public service as long as you have would have retired by now. I know you get satisfaction in helping other people. That's pretty obvious. But what about something deeper for you? What about love, Sis? And yes, what about having kids? Have you even thought about it? Have you even wondered what it might be like for you to settle down and concern yourself with those things that will make your own life fuller?" Sola asked.
Padme's eyes drifted back to her nieces and she fought a sigh. Obi Wan made her life fuller. His warmth, his humor, his static-filled voice on the other end of a comlink. From that first night on Tatooine, he had been the one person with whom she could be completely unguarded. He challenged her, supported her, made her laugh. He was as committed to serving the Republic as she was. He was a Jedi Master, she reminded herself for what felt like the millionth time since she'd left for Naboo.
I'm a Jedi--I would have nothing to offer you even if you did love me. I can't marry you, his quiet statement echoed in her thoughts.
"What if I said yes?" she asked her sister softly.
Sola didn't respond for several heartbeats. Then she let out a long sigh. "Oh, Padme. Not the Padawan."
Padme let out a little laugh. "He's just a boy."
"Have you seen the way he looks at you?" Sola asked skeptically.
Now Padme did sigh. "Anakin's had a crush on me since he was young. There's nothing…our relationship is strictly professional."
"Are you sure that's all it is?" persisted Sola.
"Of course I am," Padme replied more sharply than she'd intended.
Sola raised her hands in a protest of innocence. "Okay, okay. Who then?"
"I…" Padme trailed off.
"It's the other one, then, isn't it? Obi Wan?" her sister asked.
Padme's eyes flew wide. "I--he--we're friends…"
"I was here the time that holomessage came in from him, remember? You ran in from the garden so fast you almost tripped on the carpet. And you grinned for at least an hour afterward," Sola reminded her.
"That was more than five years ago," Padme protested. "He'd been on a mission, and I hadn't heard anything in a long time. I was just glad to know he was all right--that they both were."
"And you still know exactly what message I'm talking about after five years," Sola pointed out.
Padme let her gaze drop into her lap. Sola shifted to slip an arm around her shoulders and her vision suddenly blurred with tears. "He can't. And I can't, even if--if the Military Creation Act passes, he'd be at the forefront of a full-scale war--a war I don't believe in…" she trailed off, realizing how lame the argument sounded.
Sola quietly drew her head down on her shoulder. "Do you love him?"
Padme's answer was a simple nod. Sola squeezed her tighter, resting the softness of her cheek against her hair and let her cry.
Author: Lionchilde
Summary: "But what about your life? What about Padme Amidala?
Rating: PG
Length: Around 2700 words
Category: Angst/Drama
Pairings/Charaters: Obidala
A/N: One Path Chapter 16. Anakin and Padme are on Naboo and the investigation continues, set during an alternate AtoC. References to Rogue Planet by Greg Bear, but no major spoilers. You don't have to have read the book to follow the chapter, either.
A Turn In The Road
Anakin was right, Obi Wan decided. He did not like flying. Perhaps he should pass the trip through hyperspace in meditation, he thought. Then his lips turned up in a smile at a sudden flash of memory. Thracia Cho-Leem had convinced the council to send him, along with Anakin, to find her former Padawan, Vergere. Anakin hadn't quite been thirteen when that mission began.
"Where do you go when you meditate?" Anakin asked as they sat aboard a Republic transport at the start of that mission, disturbing his Master's recently begun meditation.
"To a state of mind and body where I reacquaint myself with simplicity," Obi Wan replied, smiling affectionately at the question.
"I don't meditate very often," remarked Anakin, wrinkling his nose.
"I've noticed," Obi Wan replied dryly, but there was no rebuke hidden in his humor.
"I get to a certain point and I just overload. It's like I'm plugging into a supernova. Something goes blooey in me. I don't like it," Anakin explained.
The statement had surprised Obi Wan, though he had carefully hidden his reaction, saying casually that they should work on the problem during their journey. It was something that Anakin had never confided in him before, but upon reflection, he realized that he should have expected it. The boy's midi-chlorian count was far beyond that of any Jedi in the Order--even Master Yoda. Such extreme sensitivity to the Force made it difficult for him to temper himself under ordinary conditions. He was already aware of the Force swirling around him in ways that Obi Wan had never been--often felt pulled in multiple directions and full of an excessive energy that made him restless and impulsive.
At times that impulsiveness was endearing. Later during the same mission, he had come upon Anakin brooding while they waited for Zenoma Sekot to answer their landing request. Obi Wan had chided him lightly, and Anakin responded by wrapping his arms around his Master in a fierce hug that took the Knight completely off guard.
Other times--more times than the Master could count--that impulsiveness led to pain for both of them. Obi Wan keenly felt every mistake Anakin made, more so because his role as Master almost always prevented him from lessening or ending the pain and sorrow of those mistakes, even when he was able. The mission he'd been thinking of, the mission that took them to Zenoma Sekot, had brought him face to face with that reality in a way that he had never been before or since. Thracia had been right in saying that it would do them both good to be sent away from the temple, though. Despite the ordeal that ensued for Anakin, he could not regret the assignment itself. It had been then that he first came to recognize the depth of his connection with his Padawan.
He had been relieved and glad that it had been Thracia who came to counsel Anakin when it was over. Her life experiences gave her a perspective different from any other Jedi he knew; she understood children in a way that the rest could not…
He let out a soft groan and ran a hand over his face. Thracia Cho-Leem had left the Jedi Order. She understood children because her perspective was that of a mother. She had married--more than once, apparently, and had declared to Master Windu that she had many sons and daughters, on many worlds. Obi Wan didn't know the exact circumstances of her decision to leave the Jedi, or her return shortly before she asked the Council to send him to Sekot. He did know that her return was well received. None of the Council had harbored any ill feelings or shown any misgivings about her. She seemed to have a special rapport with Master Windu, who had welcomed her warmly, and that imposing figure was not known to let personal friendships sway his judgment in regard to matters which concerned the good of the Order. She had left again, a few months after he and Anakin returned, offering no explanation. Obi Wan had never spoken to her about Padme; there had seemed no point. Leaving the Order had been beyond the scope of his imagination, and he had told himself that it would serve no purpose to ask Thracia where she stood on the issue of marriage now, since Padme's feelings toward him had been entirely platonic.
"Whether Padme loves you or not--what change in your feelings? To hold to your love for Padme or to the teachings of the Jedi. That is your choice, Obi Wan. It matters not if she feels as you do."
He knew now that Yoda was right. The question was not whether he should marry Padme. It was what--truthfully--was more important to him, his commitment to the way of the Jedi or his undeniable love for her. It had very little to do with whether she loved him in return. Until a few days ago, the possibility never entered his mind. Yet she had always been with him--in him--even when he had convinced himself that the matter was long settled in his heart. The Jedi Code dictated that she could not remain there. He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head. A few hours before, watching Yoda with the Bear Clan, he had known without a doubt that his place was with the Jedi. Now, here he was again, a mass of contradiction. What else was it that Thracia had said? She'd been talking about Yoda, as he recalled.
"That big-eared tree stump knows nothing about human children. And for that matter, neither do you. You've never married, Mace! I have… Sometimes I think you should all take a break, as I did, and sniff the real air, see how the Force manifests in everyday life, rather than mope around learning how to swing lightsabers."
He had expected Master Windu to react with indignation at the very least. Instead, the man's eyes had lit up and he broke into a rare, wide and completely unguarded smile. He felt only gladness that his friend had returned, was honored by her presence, and since the Council had agreed with her assessment that Anakin needed time away from the temple, they obviously had a high regard for her unique perspective.
Well, unique for a Jedi, he amended with a smile.
He had shoved the memory away, refused to even consider the idea. He'd taken refuge in his duties, in his promise to Qui-Gon, in Anakin's dependence on him, because Padme hadn't loved him and he couldn't imagine what he would do with himself, what he would become, utterly alone, apart from both her and the family of the Jedi. He knew himself well enough now to realize that he could, if necessary, be alone. Certainly, he didn't relish the idea, but there was no fear of loneliness in him now. Padme's decision to end their friendship after Devaron had forced him to confront that fear in a way that he had not anticipated. He had been unable to share the pain of that loss with his fellow Jedi, and certainly not with Anakin, who other than Padme herself, had been his closest friend for ten years. As such, he'd had to learn what it meant to be alone in the midst of those he loved.
Now his heart beat faster, and he forced himself to breathe normally. The change he'd sensed in her feelings after the explosion hadn't faded after the moment of crisis passed. If anything, those feelings had been stronger when he'd given her the comlink. She hadn't been frightened or in need of comfort then; she had seen him clearly. There was still conflict in her, as he considered the encounter, turning the memory over in his mind for a closer examination, he thought the turmoil centered not on him but on what he was--a Jedi Knight. If he wasn't though…if he took…a break? No. He shook his head, dismissing the notion as quickly as it occurred. The problem with that mindset was that it allowed him to avoid any commitment at all. It might have been enough to say he was leaving the Jedi Order for a time, to consider his options, to adopt a life of solitude, but for him the decision to marry Padme was not one that could be made with a window for "in case."
"There is no try, Obi Wan. Only do. Or do not. Choose, you must," Yoda had said, and he was right. The path of Thracia Cho-Leem, constantly shifting between lives, never remaining on a steady course, was not the path that the Force had laid out for Obi Wan Kenobi. If he left the Jedi to marry, he would not be taking a sabbatical, however extended. He would be choosing Padme. He would be her husband. Forever. He could not enter into a life with her and be constantly looking back, constantly thinking of the Jedi as his family and the temple as his real home. A mind and heart so divided would eventually destroy him and probably Padme with him. It would destroy any happiness that married life could have given them. Padme deserved a rich and happy life, with a man who would love her completely. He would be that man--or he would step aside and free both of them. Still, it was comforting to realize that he would not have to sever ties with the Order the way that Count Dooku had done, that there need be no tension between himself and the people he cared for most.
***
"This danger you're in. It's about the Military Creation Act," Sola Naberrie asked. It wasn't a question, and Padme only nodded in reply. After her audience with Queen Jamillia, she and Anakin had walked from the palace to her family home. Her father had taken Anakin off to the garden, and Padme now sat on the bench swing with her sister, watching her two nieces play with Artoo nearby.
"The Republic is all in a tumult, but not to fear, for Senator Amidala will put it all aright," Sola said.
Padme's eyes widened and she turned to face her sister. She knew that Sola wished she would have retired at the end of her second term as Naboo's monarch, but the older woman's sarcasm still surprised her.
"That's what you do, right?" Sola asked innocently.
"It's what I try to do," Padme said a bit uncomfortably.
"It's all you try to do," Sola corrected.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Padme asked with a confused expression. "I am a Senator, after all."
"A Senator after a Queen, and probably with many more offices ahead of her," Sola said, glancing back at the playhouse to call, "Ryoo, Pooja, ease up!"
"You speak as if it's a bad thing," Padme frowned.
"It's a great thing," Sola disagreed. "If you're doing it all for the right reasons."
"You don't think I am?" asked Padme.
"I think you've convinced yourself that you're indispensable to the Republic," Sola said with a slight shrug. "That they couldn't get along at all without you."
"Sis!" Padme exclaimed in disbelief.
"It's true," Sola insisted. "You give and give and give and give. Don't you ever want to take, just a little?"
"Take what?" Padme asked with a nervous smile.
"Look at them. I see the sparkle in your eyes when you watch my children. I know how much you love them," Sola gestured toward the girls again.
"Of course I do!"
"Wouldn't you like to have children of your own?" Sola asked. "A family of your own?"
Padme felt herself straighten. Her mouth went dry, and there was a sudden tightness in the pit of her stomach. "Are you talking about Ian?" she asked, deflecting the question.
"I don't know," Sola said knowingly. "Am I talking about Ian?"
Padme swallowed. Her brief romance with Ian Lago had ended more than ten years ago when she became Queen of Naboo. Since that time, she hadn't seen him. Nor had there ever been another man in her life. She had always told herself that she was simply too busy. There were too many other concerns demanding her time and attention. It was true--but hadn't there been a moment…?
"What are you running from?" Sola asked candidly.
Feeling her cheeks flush, Padme shook her head, but her sister continued to wait with the expectant air of an older sibling. "I'm not running from anything," she denied.
"I don't think I've ever seen you blush like that," Sola remarked, eyebrow rising.
Padme's hand rose self consciously to her cheek. "I…" she began, swallowing again as she realized suddenly that it was the same cheek his lips had brushed. Two years ago now. "I'm working right now for something I deeply believe in. For something that's important."
"But what about your life? What about Padme Amidala? Have you even thought about what might make your life better? Most people who have been in public service as long as you have would have retired by now. I know you get satisfaction in helping other people. That's pretty obvious. But what about something deeper for you? What about love, Sis? And yes, what about having kids? Have you even thought about it? Have you even wondered what it might be like for you to settle down and concern yourself with those things that will make your own life fuller?" Sola asked.
Padme's eyes drifted back to her nieces and she fought a sigh. Obi Wan made her life fuller. His warmth, his humor, his static-filled voice on the other end of a comlink. From that first night on Tatooine, he had been the one person with whom she could be completely unguarded. He challenged her, supported her, made her laugh. He was as committed to serving the Republic as she was. He was a Jedi Master, she reminded herself for what felt like the millionth time since she'd left for Naboo.
I'm a Jedi--I would have nothing to offer you even if you did love me. I can't marry you, his quiet statement echoed in her thoughts.
"What if I said yes?" she asked her sister softly.
Sola didn't respond for several heartbeats. Then she let out a long sigh. "Oh, Padme. Not the Padawan."
Padme let out a little laugh. "He's just a boy."
"Have you seen the way he looks at you?" Sola asked skeptically.
Now Padme did sigh. "Anakin's had a crush on me since he was young. There's nothing…our relationship is strictly professional."
"Are you sure that's all it is?" persisted Sola.
"Of course I am," Padme replied more sharply than she'd intended.
Sola raised her hands in a protest of innocence. "Okay, okay. Who then?"
"I…" Padme trailed off.
"It's the other one, then, isn't it? Obi Wan?" her sister asked.
Padme's eyes flew wide. "I--he--we're friends…"
"I was here the time that holomessage came in from him, remember? You ran in from the garden so fast you almost tripped on the carpet. And you grinned for at least an hour afterward," Sola reminded her.
"That was more than five years ago," Padme protested. "He'd been on a mission, and I hadn't heard anything in a long time. I was just glad to know he was all right--that they both were."
"And you still know exactly what message I'm talking about after five years," Sola pointed out.
Padme let her gaze drop into her lap. Sola shifted to slip an arm around her shoulders and her vision suddenly blurred with tears. "He can't. And I can't, even if--if the Military Creation Act passes, he'd be at the forefront of a full-scale war--a war I don't believe in…" she trailed off, realizing how lame the argument sounded.
Sola quietly drew her head down on her shoulder. "Do you love him?"
Padme's answer was a simple nod. Sola squeezed her tighter, resting the softness of her cheek against her hair and let her cry.