The Lucky One ⋆ Anakin Skywalker

𝖝𝖎𝖎𝖎. The Diplomatic Approach

    Thalia lets Anakin fly them to Lars. He knows Tatooine better than she does. He flies faster than she does – something she complains of, but not today, no. Today, Thalia lets Anakin fly her ship because she can't bear to see the look of shame on his face and the way it dims the blue of his eyes to a dark black shade.

Anxiety was gnawing at him. The least she could do was let him fly them to their death – destination. She won't notify the underlying pun there.

The emerald cape she's wearing suffocates her in the blasting heat. They are in the middle of the desert, and she sees it as her chance to take the hood off. The one time she should have been braiding her hair up, she didn't, in the hurry to leave in the morning with Anakin. Now, her long red hair is flying every which way, sweat sticking some strands to her neck and forehead.

Anakin watches her wipe her brow with the smallest smirk. "Too hot for her Majesty?"

She huffs. "I won't grant you the pleasure of pretending there is no innuendo."

"I would've been disappointed if you indulged me." He sighs. "Especially after letting me fly us. I know that meant a lot to you."

"We almost died three times."

"That is overreacting."

A laugh tumbles out of her mouth, and Anakin's smile widens. She takes his mind off things; off everything, even as they walk towards Lars' house.

"You know," she starts, "no one would blame you if you let me walk in and talk to them. I'm a diplomat."

"Oh, are you now?" he taunts, disguising how grateful he is that she'd even consider it. "You had me fooled."

"I may have fooled you on more than one occasion, Ani, but this isn't one," she answers matter-of-factly. "My first royal motion was a peace treaty that is currently being signed, or have you forgotten?"

He hums, even if they're getting closer to the door now. "No, of course not. Once it's signed, you won't be a Queen anymore. I didn't forget that."