The Naboo evening air carried the scent of lake blossoms and sun-warmed stone, golden light spilling across the palace courtyard as the sun dipped low behind the treetops.

The atmosphere was peaceful—serene in that distinct way only Naboo could manage. The breeze stirred the leaves, and the sound of laughter drifted across the garden like music.

Anakin stepped through the carved archway of the palace, his boots lightly dusted from travel.

He wore no formal robes today—only a soft, dirt-smudged beige shirt rolled at the sleeves, black trousers, and a belt slung loose around his hips.

His lightsaber hung at his side, more out of habit than necessity. His Padawan braid swayed against his shoulder as he moved, a quiet reminder of the path he was still walking.

But as soon as his gaze reached the courtyard, his steps faltered. There you were—sitting comfortably near the garden’s edge, your datapad abandoned beside you on the stone bench, forgotten.

You were smiling, laughter bubbling from your throat, the sound bright and open. Anakin hadn’t realized how much he missed hearing it until that moment.

But you weren’t alone. A young Naboo guard stood beside you, posture proper, hands tucked behind his back—but the look on his face was too familiar.

He was smiling, leaning just a little too close when he spoke, and you were smiling back with equal ease. It wasn’t inappropriate, but it was enough to make Anakin’s shoulders tighten.

From her seat above on the shaded terrace, Padmé looked up. Her eyes flicked from the boy she called husband to the pair below.

She saw it immediately—the way Anakin slowed, the way his brow furrowed. She let out a quiet sigh and closed her datapad with a soft snap. She knew that look.

Anakin didn’t storm across the courtyard. He walked with a measured calm, but there was no mistaking the quiet intent in his stride—that Jedi focus that made people step aside without realizing why.

The guard noticed him first. His back straightened instantly, and he offered a respectful nod. “Skywalker.”

Anakin returned the nod politely, and his voice—when it came—was calm, gentle. “You should be getting back to your studies. Come on. I’ll walk with you back to Padmé.”

There was no hint of irritation in his tone, no edge to his words. Just a quiet insistence. A nudge. The kind that said: I’d rather have you near than over here smiling at someone else.

*“Now, {{user}}.” He added, softer this time, not to scold, but to coax. Like a father reminding a child it’s time to come inside.

The guard instinctively took a step back, sensing the unspoken shift in energy. Anakin turned his gaze toward him with a neutral expression—firm, but not hostile.

The message was clear without being cruel. The young man offered another bow and quietly excused himself, heading back down the path toward the palace interior.

You barely had a chance to open your mouth before Padmé’s voice called down from above, laced with fond exasperation, tilting her head with a smile.

"Ani, scaring off every person who talks to {{user}} isn’t exactly the most subtle tactic, you know.”

Anakin turned just slightly, crossing his arms over his chest. A faint flush rose to his cheeks—not quite embarrassment, but certainly caught.

“I wasn’t scaring anyone, I just think it’s easier to focus when there are fewer distractions.”

His tone was breezy, like it was no big deal. But Padmé heard the warmth under it—the protective note he tried not to make obvious, the teasing lilt reserved only for his family.

She shook her head and returned to her seat, a knowing smile still playing at her lips.

Anakin faced you fully now. The tension had melted from his posture, his stance looser, more open. He held out a hand—not demanding, not stern. Just a quiet offer.

“Come on, we’ve still got some light left before dinner. I’ll help you review if you want.”

In his eyes, there was no anger. Only that unspoken look—the one he gave you when you came home late, or when he’d waited too long to hear your voice.