The Love of a Sith (aka The Chosen One)

Tried And Failed

Sorry- I love emotional buildup scenes, and honestly dislike plot development, so this was a pain to write.  Editing and everything else tomorrow, it's 1 am here (you're welcome!)  

Special thanks to the people who leave me comments, and again to the amazing, amazing people who leave more than I could ever ask for: Ecape7, ned_leeds2001, juliatheawzom3274, SecretsRae, and aigneis ❤️

Votes and comments are much appreciated!

"Milady? Are you- still up?"

Padme moved her hand discreetly to disguise the yawn, nodding amiably. "Oh, I'll be heading off to bed soon. I'm just going to finish reading this."

Piett nodded slowly, his eyebrows creasing almost reluctantly. "Very well. I will . . . get going, then."

"Oh?" she said lightly, endeavoring to keep her voice indifferent and contain the welcome surprise beginning to bubble up inside. "You're not staying?"

He coughed awkwardly. "Well, no, milady. It seem that my Commander . . . er, did not want me here overnight."

Padme couldn't help the smirk that tugged at the corners of her lips, a brow raising comically as her legs curled up casually to cradle the stolen datapad. "Is that so? I wonder why that could be?"

It wasn't a mystery to her, of course.

She should have expected this to begin with; it was so like her husband.

"I - well - that is not for me to speculate." Piett cleared his throat, colouring slightly. "I am to return around five- Kix and Cody will remain outside if you need something, and I will be right around the corner."

"Very well," she replied, amused. "Goodnight, then, Pie- . . . I'm sorry, I don't believe I ever actually caught your name."

"Firmus." He gave a small smile. "Firmus Piett."

"Goodnight, then, Firmus."

His eyes were shy. "Goodnight, Padme."

*      *     *     *     *     *     *      *     *      *

Two.

 . . . Three.

Four in the morning . . . 

Padme's head jerked in her chest, her weary, fluttering lids making it a game to see how many seconds they could remain up before closing inevitably over exhausted eyes.

If only she could sleep- but once she finally gave into herself she might never be able to wake up in time . . .

Curse Vader for the restless tossing and turning that had dominated every last night he was in proximity.

Padme staggered to a wooden chair, hoping desperately that the hard back would dissuade her disobedient body from rest.  She could attempt to stand in place, but it would surely then be only a time before she fell . . .

Her body started as a soft whine filled the air, bright blue making a careful slice through the plaster like it was putty as the security panel fell from the outside to land on an invisible cushion, floating gently to the floor.

Before the door had even opened to reveal the hooded figure the chair had fallen with a bang and she was up.

Padme was not afraid, did not cringe from this presence- no, at once the tiredness fell away like a worn blanket and she was running, running at the form with a sudden joyous cry and all the energy of a child receiving a present long craved.  Something wet escaped the recess of her eye as she buried her face into the woolen brown cloak, a happy, tingling warmth buzzing its elation through every neuron in her body.