♡Anakin and Padmé Fanfictions♡

Deception

Padmé – or Darth Amidala as most knew her – observed him slowly, mapping a slow circle around the small cluster of battle droids who'd crowded in the room as she thought. Swollen upper lip. A dribble of blood stained the gauzy shoulder of his robes. Hair wild. Dirt on his face and clothes. He tugged his arms, trying to wrestle them free from the desperate hold of the curved, beige hands of the droids who held him but the Sith saw all the way through his pretense.

His lightsaber was still clipped on his belt.

It had all been too easy. A growing Separatist hold on the Outer Rim was always going to attract Jedi pushback, there were too many trading paths to lose out on out here if her master took control. The risk of a deal being struck with the slaver scum Hutts was too dangerous to ignore so she expected somebody to come.

Padmé knew Anakin too well for such a farce. The useless battle droids she commanded would never have been able to capture him unless he wanted them to. He was the fiercest thing she'd ever encountered in all three years of the war. Kenobi was more difficult to outwit and to physically defeat when their paths unfortunately crossed, but Starkiller? His tenacity was endless. He never gave in unless there was no other choice and she knew it killed him to lose to her most of all.

She plucked his weapon from his belt and dropped it onto the table with a gentle thud. He watched the movement with curious eyes, unafraid to be stripped of his lightsaber.

He was here because he wanted to be here.

She didn't know whether to be furious or impressed.

A small, knowing smirk slowly curved up the corner of his lips because he knew that she knew and the shiver she felt up her spine was intense.

And they say we Sith are the evil ones...

They stared each other down, Jedi and Sith, eyes blazing into each other as the droids looked around uselessly, unsure of what to do without Padmé's direct orders. If anyone else had the pleasure of attendance – she'd thrown the Generals out of the room the moment she heard Anakin had been captured – maybe they would have sensed the tension between them. If Dooku or her master were here, they would have heard the silent words exchanged between the two force-sensitive beings.

I let you go.

You knew I wouldn't leave.

You were supposed to get out of here!

I haven't done what I came here to do.

She knew why he was here – beyond taking back the trading paths – and she knew he was running out of time to do it. It'd been over a month since he and his troops arrived and began this standoff against her. He was running out of time before his dogmatic leaders recalled him and declared this self-appointed crusade a failure.

They wanted Padmé at their feet, begging forgiveness for having been the born heir of the Sith. Pledging herself to their fantasies of greatness and purging of darkness out of the galaxy.

Because he told them that she would do it.

The droids were watching them. The security cams high in the corners of the room would undoubtedly be looked into by the Generals and covertly passed to her Master for his cold scrutinous eyes. Having a Jedi in her custody was a rare and challenging venture. There would be questions. Why wasn't Anakin dead? Why hadn't he been used to force his troops into submission?

Padmé ground her jaw. The trouble this man caused her...

"Send out a message to the Jedi council," she glared at the droids, "tell them if the battalion at our heels isn't gone with an official declaration of surrender within twelve standard hours, I'll use General Starkiller's blood as paint for my new fighter." Her growled threat did nothing to spark fear in those azure eyes, instead, they looked at her with a disparaging, taunting roll at her theatrics, which only fed the fires of her growing irritation generously. "Take him to my quarters," Padmé hissed, "I'll speak with the prisoner alone."