The silky smoothness of Padmé Amidala's nightgown draped down her body, the fabric bulging ever so faintly around her abdomen, almost mocking her as she stared down at it. Crisp night air wafted through her tresses of hair and lightly stirred the skirt of her gown. She hummed in content, closing her eyes and aimlessly directing her hairbrush through her wavy curls. As much as she tried to clear her mind, her thoughts—in betrayal—strayed back towards the strange young man who had taken ownership of the sofa in the sitting room. She was more than grateful to him for helping her husband, but she couldn't not acknowledge the fact that he seemed to know them much more than he let on. In only the few moments Padmé had spent with him so far, she could only focus on how longingly he looked at both her and Anakin.

The feeling of eyes staring at the back of her head stopped her train of thought, her head turning ever so slightly to catch Anakin, still in his Jedi robes, leaning against the wall of their bedroom and smiling thoughtfully.

"What?" she asked with an affectionate giggle.

Anakin blinked as if surprised to be caught staring before his cheeks burned a bright red, his gloved hand reaching to rub behind his neck. "Nothing. I was just..." he sighed, blue eyes skating towards their bedroom door before focusing once more on his wife. "Every second I was thinking of you. During the Outer Rim sieges. It almost became a torture being away from you. The battles were easy but the longing ...that was unbearable. And now..." he trailed off, stepping forward and sliding his arms around Padmé's petite waist, "Now I don't think I've ever been happier."

They were kissing almost instantly, the background hum of city life numb in their ears. Padmé pulled away first, resting her forehead on Anakin's chest and taking a deep breath. "Ani...I want to have our baby back on Naboo," she looked up at him to watch his expression, hoping to catch a clue of his thoughts, "We could go to the lake country where no one would know. Where we would be safe. All three of us. There's this perfect spot just by the gardens, a home we could live in as a family."

Anakin twirled a strand of Padmé's hair as he soaked in the words, biting his lip and looking anywhere but his wife's eyes.

"I could even go early and fix up the baby's room," said Padmé, eyes glistening at the thought of her homeworld. She missed it dearly, the bustling city life of Coruscant still unfamiliar to her after all her years there.

"I think that's a wonderful idea," Anakin finally said, trying not to dwell too hard on the fact that he and Padmé would have completely new lives once their child came into the world. No more Jedi, no more Senate, just them and their baby.

"And maybe even...after everything settles down...I could tell my family about us?" Padmé watched Anakin's brow furrow before she stepped in, "My parents adore you Ani, there's no reason why they wouldn't help us with the baby."

Anakin sighed, tracing his fingers up and down Padmé's arms as he sat in thought. "It's your family, you have every right to tell them what you wish. And I know they would be more than willing to help. I just worry..."

"About?"

Blue eyes dilated, looking a million miles away. "I don't even know anymore. Everything it seems like."

Padmé's hands instantly found Anakin's shoulders, the tips of her fingers kneading heavily into the weary muscle. Anakin let loose an involuntary sigh, not realizing how tense he was. "Well I wish you would worry less. This war has taken a lot out of us both. It will be a fresh new start once we settle down, find new career paths."

Anakin snorted, "I can see me becoming a mechanic or something, but what about you? You love politics."

Padmé rolled her eyes. "I could go into art."

"Art?" said Anakin incredulously.

She shrugged. "Why not? I dabbled in my youth."

Anakin fought back a chuckle, it slipping out slightly when Padmé glared deeply at him, her brown eyes now slits.

"I'm just messing with you. I'm sure your art is worthy of the highest bidder in a Nabooian museum," Anakin said, the smirk still growing on his lips giving away his mocking lie.

"Mmhm," Padmé hummed in suspicion, whacking Anakin's chest with her hairbrush. The tall man was barely even winded.

There was a faint rustling from outside their door, catching their attention and making Anakin stiffen. They had both briefly forgotten about the unexpected guest they had sleeping out on the couch.

"He's a strange boy," Padmé murmured, mentally reminding herself to alert her handmaidens to Luke's presence. She was eternally grateful to the women who had been with her since she was a young teenage queen, but they did tend to fuss unnecessarily from time to time. She respected them immensely for it, but also didn't hesitate to tease the women who had become like sisters to her. Not only would they worry about a stranger in the house, but Threepio was sure to power up in the morning, see Luke on the couch, and blow a circuit in his confusion.

Anakin had definitely gifted him to her to get rid of him, as much as he tried to deny it. ' Threepio is...unique ,' he would always say, his eyes darting around in the telling way he did whenever he lied.

"Quite," Anakin said with a laugh, still looking back at the door. "I'm sure he'll open up more in the morning. Poor guy's been through hell."

"And you haven't?" Padmé asked with a raised eyebrow.

Anakin shrugged, finally shedding his robe and tossing it to the floor, Padmé frowning at the motion. He simply waved it off, smiling sheepishly before running his hands over the small bump on his wife's stomach.

"So...the handmaidens have been caring for you?"

"Yes, Ani," Padmé breathed in exasperation, "I'm fine. I've been getting all the medical care from my personal physician. I trust her with my life." She gripped Anakin's hands on her stomach, rubbing gentle circles on them with her thumbs. "And no one asked about who the father is, nor do they need to know."

A visible slump of relief graced Anakin's shoulders and he smiled gently, disentangling his hand from hers and tucking a loose curl of hair behind her ear. "I'm sorry I wasn't here to help."

Padmé shook her head in soft amusement, "Anakin, you will be an amazing father. You've shown that enough with Ahsoka."

An unrecognizable emotion flickered across Anakin's face before he ducked his head down, leaning forward to let Padmé bury her face in his shoulder. "I love you."

"And I you," Padmé whispered, rubbing Anakin's back before suddenly his hands were curling under her waist and lifting her up into a bridal carry. A shriek leapt from her lips as she rose from the floor, her free hand instantly shooting to her stomach.

Anakin laughed heartily as Padmé grew flustered at the sudden movement. "An escort for Her Royal Highness?"

She rolled her eyes, leaning up to peck a small kiss to his cheek, the jagged scar running down the skin rough on her lips. "Stop calling me that you nerf."

"Were you not Queen of Naboo when we met?" he teased.

"Exactly. When we met."

"Well you'll always be a queen to me."

Padmé blushed before smirking, "And you'll always be that little boy from Tatooine."

In retaliation to her teasing, Anakin lowered her to the bed quickly, startling another yelp out of her, yet still gentle enough in care for the baby growing in her womb. He quickly climbed into the bed beside her, nuzzling her neck as she giggled lightly.

"We need to sleep, Anakin, it's getting late," she said through a breathy laugh.

"Yes," Anakin hummed, "Of course."

He pulled back and tugged the comforter up to their chins before curling up, looking at her with the utmost adoration in his eyes and relishing in their shared warmth. "Goodnight, Angel."

"Goodnight, Anakin."

◂◂◂

If Luke didn't know any better, he would say the Force had a personal vendetta against him and his sleep. One would think that one traumatizing vision would be enough for twenty-four hours, but the mystical power that sent him time-traveling in the first place obviously didn't seem to care what mental condition he was in, as long as he did its bidding of saving the galaxy and whatnot. It had been only minutes at most after Luke had fallen asleep, his brain blissfully numb of any thoughts, before a pain began to shoot through his subconscious. Luke had never been very good with visions and nightmares, his selfless nature to protect people always sending his heart into an erratic rhythm as he stressed for days on end on how to resolve the issue his mind presented him. Deep down, he knew that sometimes his nightmares were just that, nightmares. They had no meaning or relevance to his daily life and were only a product of his anxieties blossomed from his time in the war. However, since he was currently in a different time period , he planned to take whatever his mind fabricated pretty seriously.

It wasn't long before shadows were warping around him, an image gradually bleeding into existence before him. He was in a room he had never seen before, a haze of false reality settling firmly in his gut. Cautiously, he moved about the room, his movements feeling sluggish and the faint sound of voices distorting in his ears. The feeling was eerily similar to the time Rogue Squadron had gotten him drunk on some kind of hearty Corellian alcohol back on Yavin IV, only one bottle in his system enough to make him borderline unconscious. Han had carried him back to his bunk that night grumbling about irresponsibility, stupid lightweight farmboys, and how he was going to personally deck Wedge Antilles for convincing him to even let Luke sip alcohol, let alone drink it. It was a good memory, but the comfort of having Han doting over him like a concerned mother wasn't present anymore. He had to face this alone.

Shakily, Luke turned a corner and found himself standing before a shattered window that took up nearly half the back wall of the room. Someone was collapsed and panting on the ground, shoulders slumped over as they buried themselves into their knees, distraught disbelief tensing up their shoulders. Luke moved to approach the figure before he saw a man—if it could even be called that—lying on the edge of the window, close enough to topple to his death. The face was a sickly sallow color, almost wax-like, folds of the skin turned up to create a grotesque mask matched only by the wisps of spindly white hair barely covering the top of the head. The mouth was turned up in a devilish smile, the sound of a dark and foreboding laugh echoing from between the lips. He recognized it immediately.

Sidious.

Swallowing the sudden terror that shot up his spine, Luke took another courageous step forward, desperate to see the crouched figure slumped weakly before the Sith Lord. Light brown curls draped over the man's face as his head haltingly rose from its lowered position. Luke blinked back tears when the face of his father came into view, the man looking completely broken and his normally bright blue eyes devoid of all emotion. His skin was ashen, almost matching that of Sidious'. "What have I done?" he croaked, lifting his trembling hands up to stare at them in incredulity.

What had he done? Luke wanted to know just as much as Anakin, but the vision was giving him nothing, just the soul shattering image of his fractured father that reminded him too much of his death. Leaning on the ramp of the Lambda shuttle, his wheezing after the removal of his helmet, his one last smile before his eyes closed for the final time...

"You are fulfilling your destiny, Anakin. Become my apprentice. Learn to use the Dark side of the Force," Sidious' voice slithered into his brain, rattling around and sucking more and more life out of Anakin with each syllable. Despite not wanting to, Luke was forced to look back at the Emperor, the man sadistically eyeing Anakin like a starving man would eye a buffet. The Sith knew he was planting the final seed to make Anakin Skywalker his once and for all, a plan decades in the making all boiled down to one moment of insecurity and uncertainty. The way the Jedi mistrusted him, the fights he had with Obi-Wan, the stress of his hidden marriage, his fear of loss, all of it intentional on Sidious' part to make sure, in this last second, that Anakin would join him no matter what.

Memories of the war berated Luke, making him shudder. All the suffering that would follow...all because of one moment where Anakin Skywalker was at such a low point in his life that he would--

"I will do whatever you ask."

"No!" No one reacted to Luke's cry and he watched helplessly as his father's eyes briefly flickered to something on the ground before looking back over to Sidious. Quivering now, Luke ever so slowly turned to see a body slumped face-down over the edge of the window, only feet away from Sidious. Glass from the broken window was embedded deep in the skin and a visible lightsaber wound was fresh on the person's torso. Scars protruded up and down the exposed skin, remnants of electrocution. Being unable to identify the body whilst on its stomach, Luke, almost in a daze, began to move towards it, one hand outstretched in preparation to move it.

"I pledge myself to your teachings. To the ways of the Sith," said Anakin breathlessly, continuing on as if Luke didn't exist. The indecisiveness in his voice was enough to encourage Luke to keep moving, only a step away from the still corpse.

"Good, good. The Force is strong with you. You will become a powerful Sith," Sidious paused, rising to his feet despite his injuries and towering over Anakin menacingly, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips and distorting his face into an even more ghastly image. "Henceforth, you shall be known as..."

Finally reaching the body, Luke placed a hand on its shoulder before turning it over, Sidious' words overlapping with his movements and filling the pool of dread that churned in his gut.

"Darth Vader."

The lifeless face staring back up at Luke was none other than his own.

Failing to stifle a gasp, Luke stumbled backwards, his heart rate going a mile a minute and his body unable to wake up from the ever growing panic driven hallucination. It was then that Sidious and Anakin finally took notice of him, both of them narrowing their eyes.

"It seems we have a visitor, Lord Vader," Sidious cackled, watching with glee as Luke backpedaled in terror, unable to look away from the cold, dead eyes of his father. The previous blue of the irises melted away to reveal a vivid gold ringed with throbbing scarlet blood vessels. A snap-hiss reverberated across the room as Anakin drew his saber, the blade having mysteriously turned into the same blood red blade that Vader wielded.

"F-Father," Luke whispered, tripping and falling as Anakin stalked towards him, moving to tower over him much like Sidious had just done to him. A malicious scowl appeared on his lips and he showed no remorse, no mercy, no anything as he lifted his blade into the air for a fatal blow.

A blood-curdling scream matched the deafening hum of the saber as it swung down, burning away at his skin just like it had with his hand on Bespin.

He let one tortured wail out into the Force before everything went white with agony.

◂◂◂

It had been a while since Anakin had had a truly distressing nightmare that sent him into unconscious hysterics, enough so that Padmé had to forcibly hold him down. But here he was again, floating in the abyss of his mind, the edges faded around a bright light and twisting the piercing noise of a familiar sounding scream. He was unable to interpret much of what was happening at first, everything muffled and chaotic, disorienting him as he struggled to get his bearings. Finally, he found himself in a medical room, a squirming figure thrashing on the cot and revealing to him the source of the outcry. White-knuckled hands gripped the sheets as the person fought through the excruciating pain. Concerned, Anakin moved forward to help the person before freezing, his eyes dilating in horror as the features of the face fully sharpened.

Angel. Padmé!

He had to do something; he had to stop it. The same thing had happened with his mother, he had seen her die, had been right next to her and he still hadn't stopped it. He was an all-powerful Jedi, he saved people almost everyday, so why was he so useless now?

Grimacing, Anakin forced himself to look away, his heart constricting tightly as he did so. If he looked away, it would go away. It wasn't real. Padmé was safe.

And yet that was the same thing he had thought about the nightmares with his mother. He was only delaying the inevitable.

"Anakin, help me!" Padmé's desperate cry for help suddenly echoed in time with the screech of a newborn, jerking Anakin out of his pained trance. Not only was his wife in danger, but his child. Scared brown eyes looked up at him, fat tears brimming over as Padmé panted furiously, "I love you, Anakin. I love..."

She went unnaturally still. Anakin's heart stopped.

"Padmé?" He gripped her shoulders, shaking her in a frantic search for a sign of life. "Padmé! Please... Not her, please. " She continued to lie still, her skin growing cold under his hands. Grief rang out through the Force in waves, no doubt troubling any nearby Force-sensitive.

Anakin squeezed his eyes shut, tears leaking out in rivers down his cheeks. When he opened his eyes again, he was sitting bolt upright in his shared bedroom, sweat drenching the sheets around him. He was heaving in massive gulps of air, completely out of breath. Shakily running a hand through his sticky hair, he turned to the side to see Padmé still snoring away, oblivious to his agitation. It must not have been a long nightmare if she hadn't woken up yet. After nearly every ordeal he had, she was always there when he awoke, stroking his back and humming gently, her eyes crinkled in concern. And yet she never spoke a word in fear that she would trigger another onset of violent emotions.

He really did not deserve her.

Mentally, Anakin began going through the calming techniques he had been working on, taking deep breaths and trying not to ponder too hard on the dream's meaning. His hands were still trembling so he quickly sat on them to prevent any further movement. He had maybe made it halfway through his exercises and was nearly falling back asleep before he heard the sudden shout from the living room. His previously drooping eyelids sprung open at the disturbance and his legs instinctively swung out of bed to send him investigating. His lightsaber was already in hand in preparation for an attack. It wouldn't be the first time it had happened, therefore he was always thoroughly prepared. Obi-Wan called it paranoia, but Anakin called it being safe.

The constricting darkness that cloaked the room made Anakin have to squint to make anything out, the Force the main thing he relied on to sense any disturbances. Distant flashes of artificial lights peered in through the window from time to time, a reminder of the constant liveliness of Coruscant's city life. Minutes had gone by without a sound, enough so that Anakin was beginning to think that he really was paranoid and that his nightmare had spooked him enough to go looking for a fight. The war had him on edge, that much was obvious; every since the start of it, everything that even looked slightly out of place to Anakin was deemed a threat. It would explain why he had gotten so defensive lately, snapping at anyone and everyone that annoyed or frustrated him.

Yeah, you're going to be a great role model for your kid, Anakin thought with a bitter sigh. He moved to clip his saber to his belt on instinct only to remember that he was still in his night clothes. It was a miracle he hadn't woken anyone up yet.

Anakin sluggishly turned on his heel to go back to bed before a thump startled him into whirling around once more, his eyes darting around the dim room. A shuffling sound came from the bedroom behind him, a drowsy yawn following before the door slid open. Padmé stood at the entrance of the bedroom, her arms wrapped around herself as she peered around the room, circles under her eyes. Her voice was groggy as she spoke, "Ani? What are you doing?"

"Something's wrong."

"Was it a nightmare?" Her voice was gentle, understanding, but Anakin shook his head firmly.

"No, I heard—"

The thump sounded again, this time followed by a whimper. Both Anakin and Padmé were moving instantly, arcing around the sofa to see their guest, Luke, sprawled on the floor, his blankets haphazardly tossed around him. He squirmed around them, crying out with his eyes squeezed closed, the blankets somehow constricting him. Anakin kneeled beside him, gripping his arms much like he had back in the medbay. It seemed Luke was plagued by his mind just as frequently as Anakin.

"Father, please, no," Luke weeped, hot tears streaming down his cheeks as he feebly tried to fight off Anakin's much stronger grip. Luke hadn't said anything about parents, only an aunt and uncle, so Anakin was drawing blanks on what the boy could possibly be dreaming about. However, he knew not to pry due to it being an obvious sore spot.

"Luke, don't fight me. Listen to my voice, focus on it. Relax ," He laced his words with a small Force suggestion, watching with relief as Luke's struggles grew fainter. That was until, out of nowhere, Luke's hands shot up, gripping Anakin's shoulders and pulling the man down on the floor with him. They wrestled for a moment, Padmé seconds away from intervening before Luke fell limp once more. His entire body was shaking and his breaths came out in stuttering gasps, and yet he was still fully unconscious. Anakin slumped in exhaustion, patting the young man on the back in comfort before reaching underneath him and effortlessly lifting him up into his arms.

Closing his eyes, he reached into Luke's mind to make sure that he was truly relaxed and out of his mental hell. Surprisingly, he found no resistance, Luke not aware enough to hold steady shields. As his breathing finally evened out, Anakin pulled out with a resigned sigh, looking up from the boy's slack features to meet fretful brown eyes.

"Is he alright?" Padmé breathed. It was the first time Anakin noticed that she had a commlink in her hand, her thumb poised to call one of her handmaidens for help.

"He is now," Anakin bit his lip, looking down at the nest of blankets Luke had made to stay comfortable. The boy was far too polite to complain about being uncomfortable, but Anakin had personal experience of falling asleep on the same sofa and he knew how rough it could get. "I think we should let him sleep in our room."

"Sleep in..." Padmé blinked, pocketing her commlink and trying to find the right words. "Why?"

Anakin shrugged. "If he's more comfortable he's probably less likely to have another episode."

"Oh, is that your philosophy?" Padmé said with a raised eyebrow.

"I—"

"Anakin you use that bed almost every night and it prevents nothing. Don't think I don't notice you getting up in the middle of the night after a particularly bad one."

Anakin sighed, looking down at Luke in his arms, the boy already starting to lightly snore.

Padmé gave a halting smile before giving in. "Bring him."

Anakin did exactly that, settling Luke into the center of their shared bed and tugging the comforter over his thin frame. Noticing the saber still at Luke's belt from earlier, Anakin took it and placed it by his own, reminding himself to return it in the morning. He started to clamber back under the covers before his wife appeared behind him, tugging him by the arm and pulling him into a tight hug. "You need to talk to me," she muttered into his shoulder, half asleep.

"I'm fine Padmé, I promise."

Padmé jerked out of the hug, glaring hard up at her husband. "Do not lie to me, Anakin Skywalker."

Anakin bit his lip, unable to meet her eyes and instead looking down at the familiar piece of jewelery sat neatly on her collarbone. He wrapped his fingers around its soft, wooden curves, catching Padmé's attention to it as well. His thumb distractedly stroked it, bringing back memories of when he carved it as a bright-eyed boy from Tatooine anxious to impress the beautiful girl he had just met. "I remember when I gave this to you," he breathed.

Padmé sighed deeply, rubbing her temples to relieve the sudden headache. "Ani, I'm being serious. I know something is troubling you and you refuse to talk to me about it. Is it the baby? Luke? What?"

Anakin's head dropped in reluctance, his eyes unfocused. "It...was another dream."

"Bad?" Padmé inquired despite already knowing the answer. She reached out to grip his trembling hand, tenderly rubbing the tense muscles. With her other hand, she reached out to tilt his chin up so he would meet her heartfelt gaze. He nodded in response to her question before a quick, choked sob began building up in his chest.

"It was...similar to the ones I used to have about my mother." Padmé nodded in understanding. She had been with Anakin during the nightmares about Shmi as well. He had been much younger then, more vulnerable, but it still had the same effect on his psyche. He would focus too much on it, do something brash, and pay the consequences. Back then Padmé had told him that it was nothing more than a dream, but she had turned out to be wrong, remembering all too well the horror of watching Anakin return back to the Lars farm carrying a sack that contained the corpse of his mother. She couldn't tell him the same thing now because she wasn't fully sure if it was another prophetic dream or just a product of the burden on his shoulders. "And...it was about you ...dying in childbirth."

Oh.

She had no words, never having been the focus of Anakin's nightmares before. At least, not to her knowledge. A weight suddenly collapsed onto her, startling her. Anakin had folded up onto her, free flowing tears leaking onto her nightgown.
"Do you want to talk about it?" she whispered, running her fingers through his hair and hoping to get him to speak his fears out loud. The second the words left her mouth however, he was already pulling away, wiping hastily at his red-rimmed eyes. The damned Jedi had ingrained into him that emotions were unacceptable and a path to the dark side, but Padmé knew that emotions were completely natural. She deeply wished she could get into Anakin's head most days, just to know what was running rampant through it. He had lost a lot in a small amount of time and the strain of being the supposed Chosen One wasn't helping either. She was going to make it her mission to see a real smile grace Anakin's face before the year was out.

"It was just a dream. It's fine," Anakin mumbled dejectedly, sounding more like he was convincing himself than his wife. He sniffed, "But I won't let it become real."

"Anakin, this baby is going to change our lives. I told you that I'm getting excellent care from my handmaidens. But afterwards I highly doubt the queen will continue to allow me to serve in the Senate. And when the Council discovers that you're the father, I can't see any other outcome outside of them expelling you from the Order," Padmé said, making sure Anakin stayed focused on their reality and not his fears of losing her. Padmé liked to consider herself quite stubborn, therefore even the thought of perishing in childbirth was incomprehensible to her. In no universe could she fathom ever abandoning her children to the clutches of death. But then again...dying wasn't something completely in her control. She took a deep breath, stroking her stomach bulge lazily. How something so little could make such a considerable impact on their lives was baffling.

"I know," Anakin responded, eyes trailing her hand's movements.

Padmé looked over at Luke still slumbering peacefully, peculiarly not taking up a lot of room in his curled up state. "I know Luke knows about us, and I know we just discussed telling my parents about it soon but..." she exhaled lightly in preparation, "Do you not think Obi-Wan could help us as well?"

Blue eyes narrowed in suspicion, "Have you said something to him?"

"No, of course not," Padmé sniffed, hurt that Anakin would think she'd just outright tell someone of their hidden marriage. She obviously knew the consequences as much as he did. "But he's your mentor, your best friend. He must suspect something." Padmé knew Obi-Wan wasn't stupid, she saw the way he looked at her and Anakin when they spoke, always evaluating and most likely internally denying what he thought he saw. Obi-Wan was a strict follower of the Jedi Code, but for Anakin and Padmé, she had no doubt he would be there for them every step of the way. After a long lecture of course. Besides, the first person they ever told ended up being a complete stranger, a fact that didn't sit right in Padmé's mind. It almost felt as if it was the universe's way of saying it was time for them to tell someone they trusted instead of veiling themselves in the shadows.

"Obi-Wan's like a father to me, a brother even, but he sits on the Council. I just can't trust him with this, the Code's too important to him. I only told Luke because I was careless and let things slip. He also saw us in the Senate building earlier and I just...I don't know."

Padmé nodded, knowing deep down that there was more she wanted to say—as she was ever the bickering politician—but backing down due to the fatigue fogging up her thoughts. The yawn that slipped out felt like a betrayal. "We should get some sleep. We can talk more about this in the morning."

Anakin glanced at the chrono on the wall before nodding, crawling into one side of the bed while Padmé got in on the other side. In between both of them was Luke, still fully clothed and slumbering away, his mouth open and his face mushed into the pillow. His blonde hair was a stark contrast against the white sheets and despite only meeting him a few hours ago, him lying there felt almost normal.

"It's strange," Padmé commented offhandedly, settling back under the covers and humming in content. "He looks so much younger than he claims to be."

Anakin chuckled lightly, glad the tension of their previous disagreement was melting away. "That's just your motherly instincts coming in early."

"Oh?" Padmé snickered.

"I'm just glad the bed is big enough for the three of us."

"Debatable."

Shaking his head in amusement, Anakin reached over Luke to briefly squeeze his wife's hand before allowing himself to drift back off, all thoughts of his nightmare dissolving into the back of his mind. Mercifully, the Force granted him a much more peaceful dream than before. It was one where their future child, only a few years old at most, was climbing into bed with them for safety and security, the child's tiny frame curling up between the couple before their eyes fluttered closed.

Anakin smiled in his sleep for the first time in years.