As It Was ▸ Obi-Wan Kenobi

4. Chemistry

When Padmé arrived on Coruscant I did my best to be late meeting her, purposely taking the long route to her landing pad. But I still had to pretend to not see Anakin's speeder take off, pretend I did not see the flushed look of joy on Padmé's face.

"Good evening Senator," I said, shaking her hand, "I trust you're well?"

"No need to stand on guard Cecil," she said grinning "I'd like to think we're friends by now."

"Of course," I laughed, "I just still feel like I should greet you with formality."

"Well don't feel that way. Especially when I'm about to make you stand around in your underwear for far longer than you're comfortable in effort to find the perfect outfit for you."

I frowned, having not considered this.

"Don't worry," she said, grabbing my arm and whispering conspiratorially, "I've sent Master Kenobi his own squadron of people to get him ready. It will just be you and my personal handmaidens."

"I see," I said, my frown deepening as I watched the handmaidens unload a multitude of elaborate trunks from her ship, all of them clearly full of clothing.

Arriving in her personal quarters, Padmé slammed the doors shut for effect and skipped ahead of me.

"Now," she said, dramatically tossing her overcoat, "not only am I outfitting you, I'm helping you to prepare and embrace your role as a hopelessly in-love warlord couple who are so regal and stunning that no one would dare speak to them without a reason of utmost importance."

I frowned crossing my arms across my chest, "I-"

"Nope!" she said cutting me off, "that's step number one. No crossing your arms. You're practically royalty for the next seventy-two hours. You have to stop carrying yourself like a Jedi."

"But-"

"First lose the Jedi robes. And then we'll work on the rest."

"Padmé-"

She had crossed the room and began undoing my robes a little too expertly, ignoring my protests. Without the full weight of my Jedi robes I felt naked, not just in the sense of lacking clothing but that I could not remember a time without them.

"Here," she said, handing me a small pile of clothes, "put this on. You're a filthy rich warlord. No Jedi undergarments allowed. And when you're done, I think you'll like the first outfit on the top here," she said, gesturing to one of the sprawling suitcases that seemed to be exploding clothing all over the room.

I nodded, turning away in an attempt at privacy. This made Padmé roll her eyes but she retreated from the room, leaving me momentarily alone.

Half dressed and struggling to right the deep purple garment that had been laid out for me, I struggled as one of Padmé's handmaidens appeared. The woman was taller than Padmé if only by a fraction but eerily resembled the Senator. I knew she had a decoy but I was not aware they spent so much time together.

"Let me," the woman said, her fingers reaching past mine to rearrange the fabric and close the final zipper.

She spun me around so I faced the mirror. Someone I did not recognize stared back.

They were tall and regal, their hair teased into its natural style creating a magnificent halo around their head. The jewelry Padmé had chosen glittered brightly as the handmaiden slipped it on the person in the mirror, their wrists adorned with heavy gold bangles and an equally impressive set of necklaces settled on their neck.

The outfit itself hugged the figure in the mirror tightly around the torso, the neckline covering far less than I had ever imagined showing. At the waist it flowed away from them in a way I was sure would fan when they walked and give the impression of having great violet wings. It was sleeveless, or what could pass as sleeveless save for the draping of fabric attached at each shoulder that cascaded down to meet the rest of the garment.