strongvoice.

             ^{she takes his apology, internalizes it, and forgives him with quiet words. she doesn’t smile though, hands in her lap as she looks at him from where she’s sat on the couch.            “can you do that? release your fears into the force? i know it seems the jedi meditate more recently.”           it’s odd to love someone so tempestuous. she is still afraid, his display having set her on edge though she’s trying her best to shake it off, fingers playing in the threads of her skirt as a droid lets itself in with their food and she says nothing, not even bothering to thank it as it passes.}

            ^{she understands that hers has been a different experience entirely. but lesser pain doesn’t mean things don’t hurt, that sometimes she didn’t wish for different outcomes. it’s important not to wrap the mind so much in the idea of the strong woman as to lose sight of what was underneath. so much of her is persona, built on the cornerstones of projecting an outward image. her guard fell with anakin, but what did he see? who did he believe she was?}

            ^{“just because i suffer prettily doesn’t mean i don’t suffer,”            she tells him, her voice even, looking up with something close to confusion.}

            ^{stars, they’d gone from flirting and hugging to this and it was only the first day of anakin’s leave.}

            ^{“i’m not perfect. i worry i’ve made the wrong choices in my policy, i worry i’ll let the chancellor down, i’m terrified of losing you and i hang back by clusters of jedi to listen in and make sure that you’ve not   ——   died on a mission on a backwater planet that i’d never be able to get to.”            she bites her lower lip as she thinks, letting out a breath as her fingers come to run across her face. grabbing a towelette she wipes off the thin sheen of cosmetics and below it she’s pale, her lips a fair few shades lighter than the gloss she’d put over them.}

            ^{human, she seems to plead. not frail, not invincible, just a human with extraordinary cause.}

            ^{“i know you have awful nightmares, anakin. i’m not trying to compare. i know that being without the force, they lack the same punch yours have. but they taught me to suffer silently. as a child. who believes in a queen when the guards whisper rumors that she screams in her sleep?”}

            ^{“we’re married. don’t go silent on me because you think i won’t understand. we’re both fighting this war, just   ——   differently.”}

               THE CARNIVOROUS GLINT that conventionally sits behind most of Anakin’s stares recedes entirely. He emerges from his anger seeming smaller, like a comet part-melted by its orbit. Words easily turn to poison, or an unlit fuse. He’s been quite good at making himself into the victim && Padme into the accused. Anakin feels as though he’s living with a saber at his throat, && has become accustomed to turning his loved ones into his attackers. What if he goes too far one day? What if the fear becomes too much for him to bear && he actually hurts the ones he carries closest to his skin? 

               What if there is no dragon?
                      You are the dragon.

               Anakin looks down at his hands, lost in the existentialism of the action. If only there was some way to minimize the destruction wrought by these fingers. He has killed so many people, && not every death had been justified. Innocents are nearly always caught in the crossfire of war, but how many of those deaths had been spurned by petty retribution? How many of them had simply been in the way?

               He laughs in spite of himself, the sound of it is a bitter thing, insurance against the onset of tears that strains the air thin in his throat. Release his fears into the Force? He can no more let go off his fears than let go of a part of himself. It’s evolved from a state of mind into an intrinsic element of his existence.

               He’s been raised to be ashamed of how emotional he is, but Anakin finds himself more worried that his feelings will turn volatile again than he is embarrassed about crying in front of his wife. I could have hurt her. What if I did hurt her? I can’t lose her. I won’t lose her! Anakin wraps his hands around his knees, his grip tight enough to translate his desire to take Padme by her wrists && force her to move closer to him. It’s her hesitation that hurts him the most.

                She doesn’t want to be near you, you scare her. You’re disgusting. 

     ❝ I had no idea. You— you always seem so confident. You’re the strongest person I know. ❞ But so fragile, so breakable between his arms. He could crush her with so little effort if he wanted to. 

               Release me. A hot, familiar surge washes through him, && his left hand rises, sweeping through the dark tangles of his hair. Across the room, the sumptuous mirror set in his wife’s boudoir frames his image, above a clutter of flacons && fine long-haired brushes for her makeup. He looks at himself through cool, impervious glass. Drained && diminished at this distance from his wits. 

     ❝ I dream about you dying. ❞ About everyone dying. About me dying. ❝ …In childbirth. ❞