Archive Note: "The Sweetest Thing" is a response to the "First Kiss" writing challenge, along with Quillers Good Fortune and Starkiller's First Kiss. All three share the elements required from the challenge.
Turmoil has engulfed the galaxy. The Galactic Senate is again in disarray, with greedy delegates squabbling over trivial matters. Unfortunately for the galaxy, they are also now squabbling over several large matters; which could turn out to be highly destructive. A large Confederation of systems, spanning several sectors, has begun massing together weapons and offensive technology. This includes highly controversial cloning equipment. They claim to be merely preparing for defense in case of unforeseen circumstances. However this has terrified many other groups in the galaxy into boosting their own armaments, creating a circular arms-race.
A young, human female senator was quite concerned at the alarming rise in weapon(s) purchases and production throughout the galaxy, and had been petitioning her fellow delegations to cease the arms-race and find a peaceful method of ensuring peace. She sat, alone, in the waiting-room at the front of the office of the final, and most powerful, ally she could turn to for help. Unfortunately, she had no idea how powerful the Supreme Chancellor truly was.
Muffled voices bade goodbye to each other, the wooden door opened, and a tall human male, decked in the light tan robes and cropped hair of a Jedi Padawan, appeared. He smiled and nodded to another man in the office, turned away, saw Padme's gleaming face in the corner of his eye, and tripped right over her faithful astromech droid.
"Damn," he muttered, almost sensing a dark cackle from the office. He pushed himself onto his elbows, and his short braid promptly drooped over his eyes. It was slid away by a slender hand.
"Are you alright?" Padme asked, her voice a mix of amusement and concern. In that order.
"I'm fine," Anakin answered, after a long hesitation. Seeing her kneeling beside him had temporirly dumbfounded him.
"I'm really sorry about this. Little Artoo is always getting in people's way."
"That's alright, it's nothing, really."
They lapsed into silence, lost in thought, and each others' eyes.
"Um... Miss Naberrie..?" he began, drawing on all his hard-taught manners.
"Yes?" she enquired merrily, perfectly used to strangers knowing her name. Not that this boy seemed to be a stranger. There was something familiar about him.
"I... uh..." he stammered, awkwardly, and was cut-off mid-stutter by the hissing of the entrance door, and the clanking of a grubby, rusted metal-man as he shuffled in.
"Master Anakin!" the droid cried from its immobile mouth. "Master Kenobi is looking for you!"
Anakin gritted his teeth, and mumbled to the droid, without bothering to turn around to face him. "I'm busy, Threepio, tell my master I'll be back shortly."
"But sir! He said it is quite ur... oh my! Mistress Padme! How wonderful to see you again. And... is that Artoo-Deetoo? We really must catch up! It's been almost a decade since we last spoke!"
The squat, blue droid beeped in greeting, rolled past the protocol droid and the prone couple, tactfully drawing Threepio into a binary-based conversation outside the waiting room. Padme grinned as a little light flashed on and off in the droid's dome, and gazed back at the padawan.
"Wow. You've grown so much, Ani."
"So've you, your senatorialship."
"Oh, I'm the same short height I've always been," she said, laughing.
"I didn't exactly mean in height," Anakin muttered, sheepishly. Padme frowned at him, unsure if the comment was an insult or a slightly lewd comment.
"And just what is that supposed to mean?" she demanded, haughtily.
"I'm sorry, I-I couldn't help it..." Anakin began to stammer again, his face flushed.
"You men are all the same!" Padme cried, with mock frustration. "You give in to those primal urges so easily."
"Well actually, I was only trying to see if you're still wearing that jappor snippet I gave you. You probably don't even remember it though..."
"Oh," she whispered, then grinned at him. "Well I've always kept that close to my heart."
"Really?" Anakin asked enthusiastically, grinning right back at her.
"Yes... until the chain I put it on broke and it fell off," she concluded, guiltily.
"Oh..." Anakin now whispered, in a disappointed tone. He gazed sadly at the thick, grey carpet, then looked up sharply at Padme's giggling.
"Oh, Ani," she breathed, and gently slid a fine, silvery thread up from the front of her tunic. A squarish pendant, marked with carvings, dangled cheerily from the end. "I didn't lose it. I just got a stronger chain.
"It doesn't look so strong," Anakin said, staring wistfully at the gleaming snippet.
"Size matters not," Padme told him, simply. "So, how has life been in the temple? I suppose a handsome young man such as yourself would be fighting off the females with a gimmer stick?"
"Right," Anakin chuckled, then locked his eyes on hers again. "Actually, I am trying to keep them away from me."
"And why is that?" Padme asked, a tone of hope creeping into her voice.
"Because..." Anakin's voice began to lower, and he pushed himself closer to her head. "I'm saving myself for someone... Someone very special."
"And who might that be?" Padme replied, a large smile growing slowly from the corners of her lips.
"I... it's you."
"I know," she whispered back at him, and gently pressed her smiling lips against his own.
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