strongvoice.

            ^{padmé wills her frustration away when she looks at him again, her brow furrowing for a second before she presses the back of her hand to her head. even now he assumes the worst and she doesn’t understand what she’d done to bring on such a strong reaction.} 

            ^{her it feels OBVIOUS but padmé forces herself to remember that the jedi might not have the same opinion on seeking help. but she’d not MEANT it the way he took it, now pacing.    ( sometimes he scares her, when he coils in on himself as though he’s about to strike and she tries to keep him level in the stormy waters but some days it feels like mutually assured destruction. )   she reaches out and lets her hand fall. she loves him more than WORDS.}

            ^{❝ there’s nothing WRONG with you, anakin, ❞            for a flickering moment she’s not sure if that’s true, but she pushes it underneath the swell of her love for him.            ❝ you said you weren’t sure about the chancellor’s positivity. obi-wan is your oldest friend and your mentor and there’s a conflict of interest talking to him about how you feel with the jedi. i’m your wife. if you are frustrated with ME or us, you might want someone else to speak to about it. i didn’t mean it the way you heard, my love. ani. it just seemed you might want someone IMPARTIAL to listen to you. ❞}

            ^{❝ you know the chancellor is one of my oldest mentors, and obi-wan is a great friend, but we’re all VERY opinionated. ❞            and then she pauses, and the gentleness filters back into her expression as    fear   unease is pushed aside. she doesn’t know if he’s okay. that’s the point of contention. there’s nothing WRONG with not being to stand without help.}

            ^{❝ there’s certainly nothing wrong with not being OKAY, when you’re dealing with WAR and death on a daily basis. there’s nothing wrong with needing to talk to an outsider. i do it, ❞            padmé admits it with more ease that she’d have expected, even of herself.}

            ^{“some nights i have nightmares about the what could’ve happened, trying to lead naboo under separatist control. or i think too much about every time one of my handmaidens, or decoys, has gotten injured for me and i wonder if it’s worth it. you’d tell me yes because you love me, the chancellor would say yes because it’s the NORMAL protocol on naboo, sabé or dormé would say yes because they were raised to and are proud of what they do. but speaking to someone UNBIASED ... gives validity that at least personally helps me feel AT PEACE. ❞}

               EVER MERCURIAL, ANAKIN’S shoulders slump, conceding to his wife’s wisdom. Anxiety edges around her in a startling display of untapped emotion. She’s afraid—afraid of him—&& ignoring it to console him. Anakin’s afraid too, terrified of how an innocuous suggestion is enough to ignite something dangerous in him. Desires, hatred, fear && anger leech on him && slowly, he feels himself giving way. The Jedi Council built his foundation on a fault line, && every seismic shift of this war has Anakin crumbling a little further in on himself. He’s grasping for the final threads of his control, but how do you hold onto to something you never had in the first place?

     ❝ I— I know. I’m sorry for snapping at you. ❞ He wishes he knew how to put the violent immediacy of his reactions into words. He can’t explain why he lives like the whole world’s out to get him. There’s a dragon sitting heavily in the center of his chest, turning loathsome && poisonous with every breath. Anakin fears that one day he’ll open his mouth && it’ll be the monster’s roars that come pouring out. 

     ❝ I’m not frustrated with you… I’m just— tired. ❞ He can’t remember the last time he had a good night’s sleep. Probably some time before his mother died. That’s four years of nightmares promising the destruction of everyone && everything he loves. Anakin can’t close his eyes without seeing afterimages of death play out on the backs of his lids. Retinal flares foretelling tragedies he fights endlessly to avoid.

     ❝ I’ve talked to Master Yoda… he tells me I have to release my fears into the Force. ❞

               He’s lost so much already, he can’t afford to lose more. Not Padme, who makes his shadows look like stars, who he loves like the sea: constant && tumultuous, building to a breaking point when the waves comes crashing down. Not Obi-Wan, his other half, the best friend && mentor he can’t imagine living without. Not Ahsoka, the closest thing Anakin’s ever had to a little sister, who he’s killed for && would kill for again. They define him, && without them he would be nothing— less than nothing. 

               An abomination.

     Anakin’s looks up, concern folding his brow into a frown. ❝ You have nightmares? ❞ She doesn’t thrash && scream like him in the middle of the night, he hadn’t considered that there are more quiet ways to grieve.