chains | anidala

the weight of an embrace

Under much different circumstances, Padmé would have given up anything to be able to live peacefully with Anakin. It was what she dreamed of, sharing a small apartment with the love of her life. She used to imagine not missing him, knowing that she'd have a lifetime of waking up next to him. That she didn't have to fear the jedi taking him away the next day.

Her hair began to spiral into it's natural curl as she took a cautious step out of the shower. Her feet were sore from the constant weight and pressure the baby put on her. She gripped the wall to prevent from slipping.

The cool air met her as she wrapped herself in a towel. Slowly, she dried off. There didn't seem to be a reason to rush on any action anymore. She had all the time in the world, considering she was locked inside of a one leveled house.

Her brown eyes met themselves in a stare through the glass of the mirror. She focused on her face, noting the dark skin that had formed under her eyes. She felt like the life had been drained out of her. The spark that once surrounded her only days ago had dissapeared.

Anakin seemed to take that from her, too.

He'd been in the bedroom for hours, laying on their bed. She was too angry, disgusted, and dissapointed to speak to him. Their last conversation, and only, had proven that she was quite upset with him.

She didn't know how to feel. She was overcome with such mixed emotions that it was difficult to depict just one from her mind. Padmé was still in shock.

Her hands trembled as she pulled her brunette strands behind her ears. What was she supposed to do next? She had a child on the way, but she wasn't allowed to leave the apartment. She had no supplies, no proper food... All things would have to be provided by Anakin.

How was she supposed to trust him? She wasn't sure she wanted him near the baby. For one, he killed younglings. Other people's prescious children. Second, he work hand and hand with the sith.

How would she have the baby? Would they have someone help deliver? How could she trust people of the dark side to deliver her child? What if they delivered the baby directly to Palpatine? What if they hurt them?

She inhaled deeply for a few seconds before placing the towel gently on the counter top. Padmé removed the fresh set of clothes she had placed on a shelf and began to dress herself.

She wasn't unacquainted to dark colors, in fact she often wore them. However, the dark felt different now. She felt like a traitor. Her gut ate her alive as thoughts of what Palpatine did raced through the back of her mind. Was this his way of keeping power over her? Treating her like a mascot?

Drawing a nervous breath, Padmé's thin fingers brushed the knob of the door handle as she pulled it opened. Anakin's yellow eyes peered at her through the semi-dark room.

"Did you have the baby?" He asked dryly. "You've been in there for an eternity."

She scoffed at his boldness, "No, I did not."

He noded his head, leaning back in the bed to stare at the ceiling. His body was tense, she could tell from across the room. There was an obvious line drawn between his brows and his lips sat tight together.

"How is the baby?" He asked slowly. "How are you?"

Padmé's chest fluttered in confusion. She held her breath, strutting across the room to put her laundry away as she tried to distract herself.

"We're fine," She muttered. "As if you cared."

Anakin rose his body out of the bed, walking towards her. "You're being ridiculous. Of course I care."