For @jundland

[resoluteandunyielding]

𝓓𝓸𝓷'𝓽 𝓵𝓮𝓽 𝓲𝓽 𝓴𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝔂𝓸𝓾
𝓔𝓿𝓮𝓷 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓲𝓽 𝓱𝓾𝓻𝓽𝓼 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓱𝓮𝓵𝓵
𝓞𝓱, 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓼 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓪𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽
𝓓𝓸𝓷'𝓽 𝓵𝓮𝓽 𝓲𝓽 𝓫𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽



𝓓𝓸𝓷'𝓽 𝓵𝓮𝓽 𝓲𝓽 𝓫𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽
𝓞𝓱, 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓼 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓪𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽
𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓬𝓪𝓷'𝓽 𝓭𝓸 𝓲𝓽 𝓫𝔂 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻𝓼𝓮𝓵𝓯
𝓣𝓲𝓶𝓮 𝓽𝓪𝓴𝓮𝓼 𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓵 𝓲𝓽

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[resoluteandunyielding]

There's no hesitation this time, when her grip matches his, as though somehow she could explain through that touch, that first wave of desperate panic she somehow feels course through her more than watches overwhelm and then half-shutter from his eyes. That Padmé Amidala has always been so much more than her. It was always supposed to be. Had never stopped being.

That killing Her isn't the same as —

(Compartmentalizing and cauterizing, making the choices no one else can.
Controlling the narrative of Amidala has always been herself and bigger than herself.
Everything she's been for her people, for her world. That wasn't —

You give and give and give.

Don't you ever want to take, just a little? )

Padmé doesn't know if she has it in her to forgive him — not any more than she can ignore; she feels herself wanting to reach out to that gaping hole of his pain, a bottomless pit to match her own. It's too deep to touch, and if she does, if she thinks about Anakin for longer than a heartbeat, she won't be able to do this. And she has to do this. For them.

She looked toward the bassinets, the words quiet and hollow, "They aren't safe here."
No one's told her that, but she knows. So deep, her bones are throbbing with it.
She can feel something huge, dark, ice-cold grinding toward them.

"They won't be safe on Naboo." Not even with her guards.
All those dreams and plans torn asunder, too.

[jundland]

Obi-Wan breathes out, and tries to assess the problem at hand. He’s a general accustomed to strategising through large-scale battles — and this, in a way, is a battle. Arranging of pieces, examining assets, trying to figure out where to place the figures on the board while the Empire is already expanding and expanding.

But he is so, so tired. He’d stopped considering future plans much after Mustafar, instead simply finding himself focused on the day-to-day, hour by hour, trying to ensure these children and this woman stayed alive. He’s had trouble imagining a future for himself or for them, ever since.

“We could place them with some trusted allies under assumed names,” he says, slowly. Perhaps they’ll have to kill their pasts after all. Bail had offered as much, when they’d parted ways; he was one of the only people in the galaxy who knew where Obi-Wan was now, but they had understandably decided to wait and let Padmé make the call. It had been a plan broached in the early days, when they thought she might not make it.

But now that she’d pulled through the crisis point, he doubted if she’d actually want to let the children out of her sight. So he adds another offer: “Or we could move our group further into the Outer Rim. Somewhere they can’t find us, or them, or you. Whatever you choose, I’ll stay with you.”

Obi-Wan hadn’t been able to keep Anakin alive, which meant he was determined to correct for his mistake with these three.