"The selfishness and rudeness of their father," the words echoed in Skywalker's head over and over again.
Damn her, how dare that girl talk to him like that, especially after everything they'd been through together! After she herself had spat on their relationship and the warmth they'd once shared!
Anakin patted the milk bun grazing next to him reassuringly, letting her know that he wasn't angry with her at all. The man stood on the porch for a while longer, looking at the early dawn sky, which was just beginning to turn pink after the darkness of the night, and returned to the house, going to the kitchen, where the water for coffee was already boiling.
He was used to getting up at dawn and immediately going to make coffee and fry an omelette or meat for sandwiches so that Padmé could sleep longer. She wasn't used to waking up early, let alone cooking, and this long and difficult life away from civilisation had already seriously undermined her health and strength. Staring at the steady blue fire, Skywalker wondered why Padmé had lied to him, saying that she was less pregnant than she actually was. It could easily have been true, as Amidala was short and very fragile, but after just a couple of weeks on Endor, her suddenly bulging belly revealed the young woman's secret. Padmé was forced to admit how far along she really was. Anakin understood that the reason for the lie was her desire to have her way, as always.
But he could not have imagined that the term would turn out to be so much longer than expected. Skywalker understood why she wanted to hide her pregnancy from her family. After all, the noble Naboo family had already had a hard time accepting the fact that their youngest daughter had entered into a secret and doomed marriage with someone who should not have been allowed to marry her. A Jedi who had once taken a vow of celibacy and eternal self-denial for the good of the Republic.
But why, for heaven's sake, couldn't Padmé tell him, her husband, the truth? Anakin turned off the heat and poured boiling water over the brown granules in a metal cup. In circumstances like these, Skywalker always preferred breakable dishes, even though Padmé had insisted on using the porcelain set.
Carefully sipping the strong drink, the man let his thoughts run free.
Yes, Ruvy and Jobal Naberi had difficulty accepting that their daughter had fallen in love with a simple Jedi. In their opinion, Padmé's life partner should be someone as noble and distinguished as themselves. But she had always been able to insist on and defend her interests, both those of her people and her own, and soon everyone in their ancestral estate in Lakeview came to terms with the fact that Anakin Skywalker had become her husband.
They accepted it, yes, but deep down they still did not approve and seemed to sincerely hope that their daughter and sister would gradually come to her senses and find a more worthy life partner.
Neither Ruvy, Jobal, nor Sola, their eldest daughter, showed any open hostility towards Anakin, but they did not particularly hide their more than cold attitude towards their brother-in-law. Padmé saw this and waited until the family flew away to celebrate Waterfall Day to tell her husband that she was pregnant. Then came Order 66, the Jedi were outlawed and began to be exterminated. All secrets and covenants became meaningless, and as soon as he realised he had survived, Anakin, having ensured the safety of everyone around him, flew off to find Padmé. And she declared without hesitation that she would go with him to Endor, sharing her husband's fate, whatever it might be, unafraid of the hardships of field life, so unlike her former life of luxury and contentment.
As for the child, she said that the situation was under control. Yes, two Sith, that was true! So true that now he had not one child, but two, but Padmé was not there.
No Padmé.
Anakin tried to imagine how this was possible and what life would be like after this. She had come into his life as unexpectedly as she had left it. She was a priceless gift sent by the Force itself, which he had failed to preserve. There would be no more happiness, no more light, no more love. He would never hear her voice again, and her soft hair would never touch his face.
Anakin didn't know how to recover from this loss or if he would ever be able to. But he had to. For the sake of his children. The very ones he didn't want to think about right now. It was as if it wasn't Anakin who had so fiercely defended the idea that no one but their mother could take care of them.
Now, the anger at the loss of a loved one, desperately searching for a way out, raged from one object to another. Now it wasn't enough to be angry at Asoka alone, and his rage turned to those who were now most defenceless — his newborn children.
He remembered how, just the night before, they had lain in their cribs, crying desperately, no longer asking but demanding food and attention. But the last thing Anakin wanted to do was get up, pick them up, and calm them down, sharing his warmth and love. All the things that, incidentally, he himself was now lacking.
However, remembering the beginning of his relationship with Padmé, from their first meeting to this moment, it was not difficult to understand why everything was the way it was. From the very first day, she had taken centre stage in Skywalker's heart. No one could be better than Padmé. No one got more attention from him. And he loved no one else like that. After pouring all the passion of his heart into Amidala, Anakin was simply physically incapable of giving it to anyone else. There just wasn't enough to go around.
Padmé was not just the woman of his life, she was part of his life, his soul, his heart. She was as dear and close to him as every cell in his body. Just like an organ or a limb. No one could replace her, no one ever could.
Only once did Anakin show weakness, and to be completely honest, Padmé herself was to blame, but he would never have dreamed of accusing her of that. After all, she was an angel, and angels are incapable of any crime. It happened a year ago, shortly before the fall of the Order. They had a big fight over Padmé's need to go on a joint mission with her former lover, Rush Clovis.
Anakin thought that she still had feelings for Rash, and forbade her to even think about the mission. But Padmé was persistent, even saying that if they didn't understand each other, it would be better for them to live apart. Skywalker was deeply hurt and left, thinking that when they had cooled down, they would be able to talk again. But Amidala disappeared for a whole month, living who knows where, and Anakin...
No, he wouldn't think about that now. This was not the time or place. He had simply thought that he could replace his feelings for Padmé with love for another, and he had almost succeeded so well that he even wanted to talk to Amidala about breaking up. He wanted to tell her that he was leaving for someone else who loved and appreciated him, unlike Padmé. He wanted to be sincere, but he didn't have time.
Padmé came to him herself, asked for forgiveness, and shortly afterwards told him about the baby. And from that gentle voice and tender gaze, Skywalker forgot his intention to break up, and everything between them went back to the way it was before. Anakin tried not to think about the fact that Padmé might have come back to him only because she was pregnant, or perhaps because her lover no longer wanted her with someone else's child.
Padmé was a saint, and saints do not commit despicable acts. Instead, he mercilessly punished himself for a long time for his almost-weakness and rejoiced that he had not betrayed her. Although sometimes he thought that the other girl had treated him much better than his wife and wondered how things would have turned out if he had stayed with her.
And then there was the flight and life on Endor.
Padmé bravely endured hardship and a difficult life, but she did not complain or grumble, clearly feeling guilty for leaving her husband. But no matter how much he questioned her, she never told Anakin where she had been living or with whom. To make up for her mistake, she did everything she could to help him settle in. However, her pregnancy and the lack of proper conditions slowly but surely undermined her already fragile health.
Anakin did his best to make her life easier, taking on almost all the household chores in their small house. And he gave her the best bits, because pregnant women need to eat well, even when healthy food doesn't taste good. No one knew how Anakin got her vegetables, fruit, and hematogen. Padmé hated the latter, but she ate it without complaint. She also drank the nasty pine needle broth, which was a source of the vitamin C she needed.
And if she used to talk mainly about politics, now the main topic of her and her husband's nightly conversations was the child. Padmé did not know then that there would be two of them. She could talk for hours about what he would be like. His appearance, clothes, occupation. Anakin listened, but did not allow the words to penetrate his consciousness, simply enjoying the voice of his beloved and her incredibly beautiful, animated face.
As for Anakin's own thoughts about this child, he didn't think about him at all. He simply didn't perceive him as his own and had little idea what would happen when he was born. To be honest, he didn't want to think about it. He couldn't love anyone but Padmé, so he involuntarily thought that the child would somehow resolve the situation with his own arrival when the time came. Like an inflamed appendix that had been removed when he was still a Padawan. Who cared about the fate of that appendix back then?
The only thing that concerned Anakin about the child was how the pregnancy would affect Padmé's health. She was already very fragile and weak, and now her body had to cope with this additional strain. She was happy when she felt the baby move inside her, but her teeth were loose — this Sith child was stealing her calcium. She sleeps with a smile on her lips, while Anakin stays awake until dawn, afraid that something bad might happen.
And it did happen, he was right.
Now he was left alone with his righteousness. No, not alone, he still had the children and her, the one Skywalker blamed just as much. And, as he thought, she deserved it.
***
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