Something was different.
Ahsoka couldn't quite put her finger on it, but throughout dinner, she kept noticing things. Small things. The way Anakin's hand would drift toward Padmé's when he thought no one was looking. How the Senator would smile at something her Master said—not the polite smile she used in political settings, but something softer, more intimate.
The way they moved around each other in the Lars' modest kitchen, anticipating each other's movements like they'd done this a thousand times before.
Ahsoka's eyes narrowed slightly, cataloging these observations with growing confusion.
When she glanced up, she found Padmé watching her. The Senator's expression was knowing, almost gentle, and somehow that made everything worse.
"Is something troubling you, Ahsoka?" Padmé's voice was quiet, pitched not to carry.
Ahsoka opened her mouth. Closed it. Shook her head.
But Padmé Amidala hadn't survived Naboo's political landscape by missing subtext. Her gaze shifted to Anakin, held for a meaningful beat.
"Anakin."
The single word carried weight. Anakin's fork paused halfway to his mouth. His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he looked like he was searching for an escape route. Then his eyes found Peter.
Peter had been watching the whole exchange with that uncanny awareness of his. He looked between Anakin and Padmé, at Ahsoka's confusion, and seemed to understand what was about to happen. "She's your Padawan, Anakin." His voice was steady, supportive. "She trusts you."
The cryptic statement only deepened Ahsoka's bewilderment.
Anakin took a breath. His hand found Padmé's beneath the table—Ahsoka could see the movement now that she was looking for it. Their fingers interlaced with the ease of long practice. Then, deliberately, Anakin brought their joined hands up to rest on the table.
The gesture was impossible to misinterpret.
"You're right." Anakin's voice was rough but certain. His eyes locked with Ahsoka's. "There's something you need to know. Something I should have told you before now."
The entire room went quiet. Even Owen and Beru had stopped eating, sensing the gravity of the moment.
"Padmé and I..." Anakin started, then seemed to gather himself. "We're married."
Ahsoka stood alone on the dunes beyond Lars homestead.
The twin suns were setting, painting the desert in shades of gold and crimson. The light caught on individual grains of sand, making the whole world shimmer. It was objectively beautiful—the kind of view people from single-sun worlds probably dreamed about.
She barely saw it.
Her mind was too full. Racing with thoughts that crashed into each other like ships trying to navigate the same hyperspace lane. The revelation. The implications. Everything it meant about her Master, about the Order, about trust and secrets and—
"Beautiful view."
Ahsoka didn't turn, but her shoulders relaxed fractionally. She'd sensed him approaching—or maybe heard him. Peter wasn't exactly stealthy when he wasn't trying to be.
"This is straight out of a sci-fi novel, you know?" Peter continued, coming to stand beside her. "Two suns. Desert planet. If there were some moisture farmers with dreams of adventure, we'd have the full package."
Despite everything, Ahsoka's lips twitched. "Dreams really do come true, then?"
Peter shrugged, that casual gesture that somehow made heavy topics feel lighter. "Sure. Earth only has one sun. Most places I've been since joining up with you guys? Multiple suns are the norm." He tilted his head, studying the view. "It's pretty incredible when you stop to think about it."
Ahsoka hummed noncommittally and returned her gaze to the horizon.
Silence settled between them. Not uncomfortable, exactly, but charged with unspoken things. Peter kept glancing at her from the corner of his eye, clearly reading the tension in her frame—the way her shoulders were drawn up, how her hands kept clenching and unclenching at her sides.
"Want to talk about it?" he asked finally.
Ahsoka snorted. The sound held no humor. "That's one way to put it."
She turned to face him properly, montrals twitching with agitation. "Honestly? I don't know how to process this. My Master—the person who's supposed to be teaching me how to be a Jedi—is breaking the most fundamental rule of the Order. The one thing we're specifically told will lead to the dark side." Her voice rose slightly. "Attachment. Possession. Jealousy. All the things we're warned against."
Peter was quiet for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "To be fair, you're not exactly known for following rules either."
Ahsoka's head snapped toward him. "That's completely different!"
"Is it?" Peter's tone was gentle, not challenging. "I'm not saying there's anything wrong with it. Just... pointing out that rule-breaking seems to be a theme with you Skywalkers."
"The problem isn't breaking rules." Ahsoka's hands clenched into fists. "It's that he lied. To the Council. To Obi-Wan. To..." She trailed off, the hurt clear in her voice even if she didn't finish the sentence.
To me.
Peter heard it anyway. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Okay, yeah. From one angle, Anakin kept his marriage secret. Even before he met you." He turned to face her fully. "But I don't think he was wrong to do it."
Ahsoka's montrals went flat against her head. "How can you—"
"If it weren't for the war," Peter interrupted gently, "if Anakin had a real choice? I think he'd leave the Order for Padmé in a heartbeat." His expression was earnest, certain. "But they both have responsibilities. People depending on them. Walking away now, when the galaxy needs them most? That would be selfish."
"That doesn't excuse—"
"He told you." Peter's hand found her shoulder, warm and grounding through her tunic. "Not the Council. Not Obi-Wan. Not even his clone troopers, and they'd probably take a blaster bolt for him." His eyes searched hers. "He chose to trust you with this. Do you know why?"
Ahsoka couldn't look away from his gaze.
"Because he knows his Padawan is someone he can trust completely." Peter's voice was firm, brooking no argument. "And you know you can trust him too. That hasn't changed."
"How can you say that?" Ahsoka's voice cracked. "He never told me before. All this time—"
"But he's telling you now." Peter's grip on her shoulder tightened slightly. "When it mattered. When it was his choice to make, not forced by circumstance." He paused, making sure she was hearing him. "He trusts you more than anyone else in the galaxy. And you both know it."
For a long moment, Ahsoka just stared at him. Then her vision blurred.
Without thinking about it, without planning, she leaned forward and rested her forehead against his shoulder.
Peter went still—surprised but not pulling away. After a heartbeat, his arms came around her, pulling her closer. One hand settled at her waist, the other between her shoulder blades. Ahsoka's fingers curled into the fabric of his suit, and she shifted slightly, her cheek brushing against his.
They stood like that, suspended in the moment, as the twin suns painted everything gold.
Then Ahsoka pulled back abruptly.
"Wait." Her brow furrowed, eyes narrowing with sudden suspicion. "Anakin said all the Avengers already knew."
"Uh..." Peter blinked, clearly not following. "Yeah?"
"You just gave me this whole speech about how much he trusts me." Ahsoka's hands went to her hips. "But if he already told all of you—"
"Oh!" Understanding dawned across Peter's face. "No, no. He didn't tell us. We figured it out."
Ahsoka stared at him. "You... figured it out."
"Yeah." Peter rubbed the back of his neck. "It wasn't exactly subtle? Like, I know I'm not the most socially aware person, but even I noticed how they look at each other. The way they move around each other. Little touches when they think no one's watching." He shrugged. "We all kind of picked up on it independently and just... never said anything."
Ahsoka's eyes went very wide. Her cheeks darkened to a deeper blue. Her mouth opened, closed, opened again.
Then her cheeks puffed out in indignation.
Peter's eyes crinkled at the corners. "Are you... are you pouting?"
"No!" Ahsoka spun away from him, arms crossed.
"You totally are." Peter was grinning now, she could hear it in his voice.
"This isn't funny!" But even she could hear how petulant she sounded, which only made it worse.
Peter laughed—warm and genuine and utterly without malice.
Ahsoka whirled back around and swatted his arm. The hit had no real force behind it, more symbolic than anything.
"Ow," Peter said, not sounding hurt at all. "Such violence."
"You're impossible." But Ahsoka was fighting a smile now, the heavy emotions from earlier dissipating like morning fog under the suns.
They stood there grinning at each other like idiots.
Then Peter's expression shifted. Something flickered in his eyes—an emotion Ahsoka couldn't quite name but felt echo in her own chest. Before she could process it, his hand caught her wrist.
The touch was electric.
Peter tugged gently, pulling her closer. Ahsoka's breath caught. Their eyes met and held, and suddenly the space between them felt charged with possibility. Everything else—the desert, the homestead, the war—faded into background noise.
Ahsoka cleared her throat, tried to step back, give them both space to think. "We should probably—"
Peter's grip tightened slightly. Not restraining, just... asking her to stay.
His eyes were intense in a way she'd never seen before. Focused entirely on her with an attention that made her pulse race. She didn't understand what was happening—or maybe she did and that was scarier.
"Peter..." His name came out breathless, uncertain. "What are you—"
His hand came up to cup her chin.
Ahsoka's eyes went wide. Her heart was trying to escape her chest, pounding so hard she was certain he could feel it. She could feel their breath mingling in the space between them, warm and unsteady.
Her eyelids fluttered. Once. Twice.
Then closed.