Chapter 2: Protection

Padmé Amidala was not a stranger to feeling out of her league.

She could recall several times when she had felt so: The very first time she put on the ceremonial headdress of the Queen of Naboo; when it fully sank in that she was responsible for the well-being of an entire planet of people and a countless number of species; the first time a very tall and very grown Anakin Skywalker walked into her suite at 500 Republica, gazing at her with the promise of searing passion and unparalleled love in his eyes. It's the exact same way she feels now, being in this strange plane not her own, pregnant with two children, hovering over a recovering husband and in turn being hovered over by an extremely loyal and exhausted friend.

She was out of her league.

Padmé rubbed her temples, feeling an ache beginning there. She was, quite simply, blown away by everything that had occurred in the last few days. They were in a different dimension, she was pregnant with twins and apparently, her husband was destined to be the ruler of an entire civilization of dark Jedi.

She was out of her league.

Padmé gritted her teeth as an ache shot through her back. Of all the times for her body to remind her that she was pregnant, this was the worst possible moment. She simply could not take anymore whether it was more information or more surprises. She definitely could not bear more pain. Shifting forward in the chair, she turned her attention to her beloved. He was so still as he slept. His face was turned away from her, the bright strands of his hair straggly and splayed messily around his head. Even in his sleep, he seemed troubled as though carrying a great weight. After everything they had learned, this surprised her little.

Anakin. His name whispered in her mind like the first breeze on a warm Nubian day.

She had done the unthinkable for the love of him. She'd left behind her people, her family, her obligations … her good sense. She'd forsaken everyone and everything and she would do it all again. Padmé loved him so much that it seemed impossible, unhealthy even. But she couldn't stop, didn't want to stop. Loving him fulfilled her, thrilled her; was simultaneously the most amazing and most dangerous thing she'd ever done.

Releasing a deep breath, she reached over and gathered his large hand in her own, cradling it in her palms.

It was a double-edged sword. For while loving him was her life's purpose, seeing him wilt away to nothing, to lose his strength as he fought to fight an illness that threatened his life, hurt her in way that had threatened to completely shatter her. This was not the first time she had seen him struggling with the pressures of life. She had seen him hurting and weak before. But she had never seen his spirit so attacked, had never seen him question and doubt himself so much and it had very nearly destroyed them both.

Padmé wanted to help him, and felt woefully inadequate at doing so. She wished that Anakin could look through her eyes for just a second and see him as she did; powerful, strong, immoveable, funny, lovable—damn near perfect, really. She would make him see, somehow. It would take time to help rebuild what had been torn down, but she was more than ready to do it. Despite everything, for the moment, Padmé was more content than she could express because he was alive.

She had been so scared. Even now, the aftertaste of fear lingered in her mouth. She would never forget the terror she felt when Anakin collapsed, how the skies had grayed and life had lost its meaning. She had been so helpless, so completely useless as she watched her husband fight against the strongest enemy he had ever faced.

When he'd fallen into the coma, she had done nothing but pray and hold onto a hope that seemed more foolish than realistic. But she refused to give in to doubt because to abandon her hope would be to accept the unthinkable. But then, Anakin had been healed. He had been healed. He had opened his blue eyes and stared at her, then smiled, the slow motion moving across his lips in a way that never failed to make her heart beat wildly in her chest.

Her husband was alive.

So, even if they were in a different plane, even if the future loomed ahead like a dark cloud filled with countless and unthinkable hardships, Anakin was alive and that was all that mattered. She smiled softly, gently rubbing his arm. Now that he was becoming well again, Padmé vowed to herself that she would never allow any harm to come to him in such a manner again. If at all within her power, she would protect him no matter the cost.

No matter the cost.

A shifting to her left caught her attention and she turned to see Obi-Wan staring exhaustedly at the far wall. His shoulders were slumped and much like Anakin, his hair looked like it had gone to war. His visage was incredibly haggard and Padmé knew that he'd had just as little sleep, if not less, than she'd had. She couldn't stop her heart from swelling with gratitude as she looked at him. How could they ever have done this without him? With all the concern that had been directed toward Anakin for his sickness and herself for her pregnancy, little care had been given to Obi-Wan and his needs. It would not remain that way and Padmé would make sure of it. After everything that the older Jedi had done for them, sacrificed for them, she would make sure that she and Anakin were there for him in any way he needed.

Padmé tensed as the door to their room slid open silently. She straightened as the male Dinami from earlier entered the room, accompanied by one more, what looked to be a female.

Only her years of experience as a public figure allowed her to mask her awe at the beings before her. They really were extraordinarily beautiful and if she thought the males were, the woman before her made her stomach clench. Like the rest of the Dinami, her skin was dark, her nose broad and long. But unlike the others, her eyes were like those of the stars in the vast expanse of space. It was eery and incredible at the same time. She was quite simply, one of the most gorgeous beings Padmé had ever seen. She wore a garment of white that billowed like clouds around slim, delicate calves and she wore white sandals that displayed perfect feet. How the kriff could someone's feet be perfect?

Padmé shifted, uncomfortably aware of how pregnant she was, of how un-beautiful she must look in that moment. It was silly, after everything she had been through, to compare herself to anyone, but she couldn't seem to stop. Padmé had ever been aware of how coveted her husband was around the galaxy, how his status as an unattainable Jedi badass only increased his allure to the many denizens of the Republic that lusted after him. It had never been anything she'd given a great deal of thought to, but here, it was impossible while being surrounded by so many good-looking humanoids.

Closing her eyes, she mentally shook herself. Now was not the time for such foolishness.

"Lady S'ihar and Sir Jedi, this is Krysanthe, my sister," the Dinami, Lvet said, voice soft and his eyes luminous, "if you will follow her, she will lead you to a place of rest and sustenance. Then, Lady S'ihar, you will be given into her care while I will take charge over the Sith'ari and you, Sir Jedi."

Obi-Wan frowned even as Padmé eyebrows shot into her forehead."You wish to part me from my husband?" she inquired calmly, waiting. There was no way she was leaving him. No way.

"Lord Sith'ari will be awakening soon and will join you in breaking your fast after he is seen by our healers," Lvet replied gently, turning away. "Please follow us."

Padmé didn't move.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Lvet," Padmé responded politely, glancing at Obi-Wan, silently imploring him to follow her lead, "we'd prefer to remain here with Anakin."

"Yes," Obi-Wan agreed, and Padmé released an invisible breath relief. Good 'ol Obi-wan. "No offense to you or your people, but we wish to remain with our companion."

"That is unwise," the female Dinami, Krysanthe finally spoke, turning her gaze to Padmé, "you will come with us. Now."

Padmé stiffened, her eyes narrowing at the aggression in Krysanthe's voice. When Obi-Wan began to open his mouth, Padmé help up a hand, stopping him.

"No," Padmé said venomously, all kindness disappearing from her visage, "I don't think we will."

"What do you hope to accomplish here?" Krysanthe asked curiously, the lyrical strains of her voice dripping with disdain, "you cannot help him."

Bristling, Padmé stood to her feet with clenched teeth. She never entered a confrontation while sitting down. "If you think I'm going to leave my husband with a bunch of strangers—"

"You mean the same strangers who saved his life?" the female Dinami asked, elegant, black eyebrow lifting. "What would we gain from hurting him after healing him?"

"I don't know and I don't care," Padmé replied coolly, struggling to control her anger. They were asking too much of her. She would not leave Anakin, not after she had almost lost him. "You're suggesting that we should trust your motives. How can we be sure that you're not going to harm us in some way after you separate us?"

"You don't," Krysanthe answered shortly, "looks like you'll just have to trust us." The last words were said so insolently that they instantly pushed Padmé over the edge.

"You're out of your mind if you think we're going anywhere with you," Padmé shot back, no longer concerned with hiding her anger.

"Padmé Skywalker, perhaps you don't understand your position here," Krysanthe began acidly taking a step forward, eyes narrowing on Padmé, "you worry for your husband but the position of you and the little ones you carry is infinitely more precarious."

Beside her, Obi-Wan stood as well and Padmé's eyes widened, her mouth parting with impotent rage, "Are you threatening my children?" Padmé thundered incredulously, hands shooting to cover her abdomen.

"No, I am one of the few women who will not seek to harm either your or your young ones, but there are many in this plane who will. What you have yet to understand, Lady S'ihar," the way Krysanthe said the title was almost insulting, "is that it will be your actions that make or break your husband. The world of the Sith is a civilization that shows no mercy to anyone, even its women. In some ways, the war among them is even worse than among men. With the men, physical might is everything. But amongst the women, you must be as cunning and merciless as a tila for your sake and the sake of your husband if you wish for him to remain so. His mere presence will create war of an entirely different kind, beyond that of the Prolieum. Every woman there and even some here will see you as an enemy and will not hesitate to kill you and your children in order to secure their futures as the S'ihar of the Sith," Krysanthe's eyes were fathomless as she spoke and the words shot straight to Padmé's heart. "You must be smart, you must be decisive, you must be ruthless and you must learn the cultures of this plane as quickly as possible."

"You want to protect your husband? Learn what I will teach you in these seven days because the freedom of your husband, your friend, your children and yourself hangs on how quickly you absorb, understand and accept the things I tell you," Krysanthe's eyes glowed as she spoke, her gaze connecting to Padmé's. "Hovering over your husband as though you are able to guard him or speed his healing reeks of meaningless emotion. Your desire to leave him because you are afraid of losing him, bespeaks weakness. If you manage to survive the next eight days and establish your house with the council, I will teach you, guide you, help you to hold on to what you so obviously cherish; your family."

The two women stared at each other, Padmé with stricken eyes, Krysanthe with steady ones.

Closing her eyes, Padmé shook her head, face tense. She stood paralyzed for a moment before suddenly, she stilled. She took a deep breath. Then another. Then another. She breathed, slowly and deliberately and as she did, the tension slowly eased from her face.

One day at a time, one moment at a time. She would not allow this to overwhelm her. She could do this, she was going to do this; she was going to do the kriffing hell out of it. Padmé didn't like Krysanthe, but she didn't have to. If what Krysanthe was saying was true, then Padmé had to trust her. For her family.

Padmé opened her eyes, immediately meeting Krysanthe's gaze. "Sounds like a slow day at the Senate," Padmé replied finally, loftily, head raised and steel in her eyes.

Krysanthe stared at Padmé for a long moment before nodding. "You might just last for more than a day after all," the Dinami said critically, lips pursing. "Come. We have much to do."

Padmé nodded. Turning to Anakin, she leaned over the side of his bed and kissed his cheek tenderly. "Wake soon, my love," she whispered, nuzzling him lovingly, "I will be waiting for you."

She rose and turned to Krysanthe, "Please, show me the way." They both knew she was talking about more than satisfying her hunger.

Something flashed in Krysanthe's dark eyes. "Yes," the female Dinami replied, "I will show you the way."

End of chapter 3: Birth: An early arrival

A/N: I have no reason why it's taken so long to update this, so I won't make excuses. I kept thinking about Yana who would periodically PM for updates so I decided to do this for you. Your patience deserves to be recorded in a book somewhere to be marveled about for the next century. Thank you for your continued support. Updates will be slow, but I'll try to make sure they happen. Also, this chapter was a little short to get myself back into the groove. I'll try to make the next one longer.