Title: Mine Alone
Summary: Padmé would be his. Anakin knew it without one doubt.
Disclaimer: Star Wars is the property of George Lucas. No disrespect is intended with this story.
In the darkest hours of the night, she was mine.
When the sadness of my dreams threatened to overtake me, I forced my thoughts on to her. My angel. I would lie still in the dark, holding the image of her serene beauty in my mind until my mind cooperated fully, weaving blissful fantasy interludes between us.
The two of us. Her and I. Together. Alone.
Over the years, my imaginings have changed. At first, she was a comfort, slender arms holding me against her, wrapping a blanket about me to keep me warm. A substitute for my mother, gentle and calming. Padmé's melodious voice soothed the aching pain of loneliness inside me and I would turn my face against her as I had with my mother, drinking in the pleasant scent of her perfume.
I would dream of her and feel a peace upon waking, as though just by thinking of her I could feel her with me.
But then I grew and recognized that her beauty pleased me on deeper levels, that her voice touched a place inside me that made my stomach feel faintly ill. A good ill, never the bad kind. A nervousness, a shaky sensation. I no longer thought of her like I did my mother.
I watched her on the HoloNews, those brief moments when she was asked to comment on some movement or another in the Senate. She was so assured, so absolutely certain of her convictions. Passionate about her causes. She was so enthusiastic, so alive. Even halfway across the galaxy, I was drawn to her again and again.
I loved her.
More time passed and I was made aware of the exact nature of what I was feeling. The emotional. The...physical. How could I not? On some worlds, discretion is not common and I have eyes to see what goes on between men and women. I know what happens in the dark hours of night.
She was in my thoughts.
To see her again was joy, was pain, and I was surprised to see a flicker of the same awareness I had of her in her eyes. She looked at me and recognized me. Me! Not as the little boy she knew, but that I had grown. I was more than what I was and I'd made her aware of that. I'd made her uncomfortable and I decided it was a good sort of discomfort. It was good for her to see me as I am now.
She needed to see that I am ready for a deeper relationship. I am ready to be everything she could possibly want or need.
For years, I have thought of her, dreamed of her and now I am getting to her. She responded to my kiss and though she claimed it was she that gave it, it was I that leaned down to her. I felt her skin beneath my fingertips and her mouth against mine. She wanted that kiss. I felt it. She desired that kiss. Her thoughts were not guarded right then. She wished it to continue...
But she pulled away and I do not understand why. She wanted more. Why deny herself the very thing she wanted?
I want her, need her. Each moment that passes only strengthens what I feel. I am cold, I am hot and I wonder if she remembers that I once told her I was going to marry her. I still know that we will be together. After all this time, that certainty is still inside me. Even now, I know it will happen.
Why did she wear that dress? Did she purposefully mean to torture me? Her shoulders bare, the curves of her breasts thrust upward and very nearly spilling over the edge of her bodice. Her waist tiny and the curve of her hips emphasized. That image will be with me forever, feeding my fantasies more than she can ever imagine.
I told her my feelings, saw her uncomfortable once more and pressed on. Surely she'd reciprocate, but no, she did not. She lied to me, I saw it in her eyes. She was rational, my angel. So rational. But she feels something. It's there and there will come a time I'm certain where she will not be able to deny it. We are meant to be. Perhaps not now, but some day. It will happen.
She will be mine. Mine alone.
I nodded, and left her by the fire.