Summary: He turned the tables on her.
Pairings: Anakin x Padmé, sort of
Author's Note: Take note of the darker view I take on Anakin and Padmé's marriage. I don't think that all was fairytales and roses with these people.
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars.
He was always fire, and she water. When they meet, the differences between them are obvious, and though Anakin seems to adore her from the start Padmé reflects after all is done and death has cleared her head that she should have known better.
It was just the self-destructive attraction of fire to water, before it tries to destroy it and finds itself destroyed instead.
And maybe that was the attraction too for Padmé. That she being water, she could destroy Anakin any time she wanted to, destroy him in such a way that a lightsaber or any weapon at all had no effect against it. She could obliterate him, and he would never be able to stop her.
I will keep you chained to me. You want it just as much as you have wanted anything in your life, and Anakin, I do not think you have ever truly tasted freedom. Bondage to me will be a different bondage than your other chains, but this will be a chain that remains unbroken no matter what storm comes upon you.
The power was intoxicating to Padmé. They say power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. The power of a Queen and a Senator was never enough to sway her away from the moral path, but somehow, this was. Playing with him, manipulating his desires, provided great enjoyment, and more power than Padmé had ever known before.
At first, all seemed to be going her way.
But then, the tides started to turn, and not in Padmé's favor.
He frightened her. Padmé winced as she felt the air crackling around her. The sort of intensity in Anakin's eyes was what she was used to seeing in a wolf before it struck down the small creature before it.
He saw her as prey now.
Anakin became aware that he was fire. He knew now that he was the destroyer in all things, and that he could kill and maim.
On the battlefield, he was a divine Harbinger for Death God, with a brilliant sword that lit the night and split the sky. He shattered homes and lives and spared no one in his bloodlust and berserker rage. Those brilliant blue eyes became dark and black and utterly ungodly. Padmé shuddered every time she pictures of him in the news, on the frontlines.
He did not look human.
He looked like nothing Padmé had ever seen.
Something primal. Something dark.
And once the reports passed her eyes, Padmé knew.
Anakin was setting the Galaxy ablaze. Fire had been set loose upon unsuspecting worlds, and it would devour everything in its path, until she gave It what It wanted.
Her body. Not to take pleasure upon, but to consume, devour, destroy.
What have I done?
I do not know how, but somehow I was the catalyst that made Anakin aware of what he truly is. My tides trying to chain him made him aware that he could burn, and destroy all that rests in his path.
And he will destroy, and devour, until there is nothing left for him to eat.
Off the battlefield, Anakin was no different. He tried to set light to everything Padmé held dear—Democracy, order, friends and loved ones, her life as a Senator—simply because he knew of no other way to hold her attention on him. His body could not get her attention, so he tried to burn the ground around her instead. He didn't care who he had to scorch to get her to see him.
Padmé tried desperately to placate him, worried and frightened now instead of complacent and feeling power's hunger sated in her belly, becoming all too aware of how his destructive urges were finally setting their sights on her.
Possessive, invasive, jealous. Paranoid, irrational, violent. Gone was the malleable boy Padmé had known. Now was a dark, forbidding man whom she tried in vain to see traces of the boy within.
I never thought things would turn out the way they did.
I never thought it would end like this.
I had a thousand different fates in mind, but none of them involved dying on a cold table with my blood flowing without end like a roaring sea and two children demanding yet more liquid from me.
Eventually, Anakin did destroy everything. And he destroyed her. Not at the moment she died, but when she watched democracy die—
"—in thunderous applause," Padmé whispered, the weary disgust plainly evident in her voice, and an undercurrent of fear running clearly beneath, as she cast her eyes to the red-clad guards all around.
They never seemed quite so forbidding before.
Anakin, what have you done?
But the moment her throat closed without any hand upon it but Anakin's from several feet away, Padmé remembered what she had forgotten, and realized that she had still been complacent, even when fear gripped her and made her mind work twice as fast as it would have even on the Senate floor.
Anakin, who had become Vader, remembered that he was fire, the Black Destroyer.
And Padmé had forgotten that, as water, she could evaporate under the heat of his flames.
She remembers now.
But too late, as brimstone rising noxious in her nostrils is the last thing she remembers before blackness swallows her.