Disclaimer: Star Wars belongs to George Lucas. I'm just playing with it.
Let It Rain
In the lake country of Naboo, two people walked. Only two, no others around. Two, with a secret they could never tell. Not that this mattered. When they returned to Coruscant, no doubt the secret would weigh more heavily. But in this moment on Naboo, nothing mattered except the pure joy to be found between a Senator and a Jedi Padawan.
Anakin walked hand in hand with Padme. They'd been married only a day, and he would soon have to go.
Anakin cast his gaze up at the sky. "It's going to rain," he noted. "Perhaps we should be heading back."
Padme shook her head. "Whether or not it's going to rain, everything is beautiful now. Let's enjoy it." Whimsically, she reached up and tugged lightly on his Padawan braid.
Anakin laughed. "You love that braid, don't you?" he teased gently.
Padme smiled. "Maybe...but I think I love the wearer more."
He caught her hand in his, their smiles matching in happiness. They walked on, Padme stopping to pick a single yellow flower. "Isn't it beautiful?" she asked.
Anakin took the flower in a shining metal hand. He looked at it as though he had never seen a flower before in his life, admiring delicately rounded, silk-soft petals, golden as Naboo's sun but so much fairer.
"Yes," he half-whispered, bemused by the intensity of his reaction to the flower, "it is beautiful." His breath caught as he finally realised why he felt so strongly about a simple plant. It wasn't the flower. It was because Padme had shown it to him, and the way he saw more beauty in the world while in her presence. It was pretty, and fragile, and it had been in her hands. Traces of her touch still lingered in the Force around the flower, made a thousand times lovelier by the sense of her joy that clung to it.
Anakin tucked the little yellow flower into his wife's hair. "It is beautiful," he repeated, adding in a deliberate echo of Padme's own words, "but I think I love the wearer more."
"Anakin," Padme murmured, saying no more. The love in her voice as she said his name was more than equal to a thousand other words she might have used to sing his praises.
The rain began. Encircling Padme with his arms, Anakin formed a bubble of the Force to keep them both dry.
Padme watched the water slide off an invisible dome. "Don't, Anakin," she said gently. "Let it rain."
He held one of her hands, raising it up, about to press it to his lips. Brown eyes dancing, Padme pulled away. "If you want that kiss," she began with a mischievous smile, "you're going to have to catch me. And that means getting wet."
Laughing, she ran outside the Force-bubble. Anakin followed quickly, even as the light rain intensified, pouring down.
They darted and dodged, Padme being sure to not make any especial effort to evade the determined Padawan. Finally, he caught her, shaking his head tolerantly. "You're impossible," Anakin said fondly.
"I know. Isn't it fun?" Padme looked impishly at her husband. Being around Anakin allowed her to step out of the roles she assumed in public. She'd always seemed so serious, but Anakin's presence lightened Padme's moods, and allowed her to be playful without fear of the consequences.
He kissed her, then suggested, "Now that we're all wet, shall we at least go back and get dry?"
Padme nodded. "Alright."
Hand in hand once more, they walked back across the lush green meadow. They were soaked- their hair and clothes dripping wet and plastered to their skin, but neither Anakin nor Padme really minded. Rain or no, they were together, in a moment that felt as though it could last forever.
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