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THE TRIO began yet another journey once Padme returned, this time headed for the lake country on the planet. It was their shortest trip yet, with Araminta maintaining a vigil the whole time until the sun began to set on their arrival. Anakin had called her crazy for keeping watch in such conditions, to which she had painted a vivid image of what could happen to Padme and go wrong, until he told her to shut up and left her alone.
The so-called lake country was a beautiful sight, with rolling hills, glimmering water stained pink and blue from the sunset, surrounded by many islands covered in lush forest. They were headed for a regally constructed building shrouded in forest on the edge of the serene body of water, illuminated in hues of pink and orange.
It was like nothing the assassin had ever seen.
Their boat reached the dock, and Padme was helped out by Anakin. The padawan then offered his hand to Araminta, but she merely brushed past him on her own, diligently taking in her surroundings to the finest detail she could. Their luggage was to be brought up inside by servants, which Araminta struggled to grasp, having done everything herself growing up.
Padme – now dressed in a flowing, backless dress – began with a tour, showing the padawan and assassin the rooms they'd be staying in and where everything was in the building. Araminta was definitely impressed, but said nothing, as she meticulously observed everything she could; exits, resources, platforms, anything that might be useful if needed.
Eventually, the trio settled down for the night, Araminta slumping into the comfortable bed she had been assigned. Padme had called it a 'small room', but Araminta had stayed in places a quarter of the size.
For the last few months, she had been given a room at the temple in Coruscant, or had slept over on Anakin and Obi-wan's ship on expeditions; neither of which were particularly comfortable. Before then, Octavian had only provided minimum quality sleeping quarters across his facilities. Being in such a comforting bed felt almost unnatural to Araminta.
She winced at the thought of Octavian's facilities, the large yet confined spaces she had spent eleven years living and training in, the sounds associated with it, the stinging of wounds, the smell of blood and metal. She often thought back on those times where she had served the man, where her life was someone else's.
The exposed brand on her shoulder itched, and Araminta ran a hand over it. It wasn't smooth, it was scar tissue that had tried to heal over the years, burning pale against her azure skin. The assassin vividly remembered the day she was branded. She'd been just sixteen at the time, held down as she was burned as a way to symbolise her strength and survival. Araminta viewed it more as a reminder of all the horrible things she'd done, like a literal warning label. She hated it.
Feeling too unsettled for sleep, Araminta got to her feet and pulled a gown over her sleepwear, exiting her room and padding silently down the hall. She had no idea where she was going or what she'd do, but sleep definitely wasn't coming for her.
Araminta halted in her movements outside Anakin's door when she heard the faintest whimpering from inside. She frowned and listened closer, deducing he was having another nightmare and she'd leave him as usual. Unfortunately for her, his door opened abruptly and Araminta tried to make it look like she hadn't been listening.
Anakin's face was wet with tears as he stared at the short girl, looking almost offended, as she stared back, unsure of what to say.
"What're you doing up?" Anakin finally snapped.
Araminta furrowed her brows at the hostility. "Can't sleep," she responded. She noticed Anakin's eyes had locked onto her brand from where her gown had slipped off her shoulder. The girl shrugged the cloth back up to cover it, but it simply fell back down.
"What does it mean?" Anakin asked, clearing his throat.
Araminta tilted her head. "What?"
"The symbol," Anakin responded. "It looks like a triangle and some circles or something."
Araminta shrugged, only acting nonchalant. "It's Octavian's brand. It's an inverted triangle overlapping an infinity insignia mostly." She was vividly aware of how Anakin was basically staring at the brand, as she so rarely had it on display. "In some cultures an inverted triangle means unstable or unjust power. And the infinite is because, well, with this brand we're forever related to Octavian," she added, answering his initial question, hoping it would get him to back off.
Anakin sniffed and wiped his cheeks quickly, as if that would erase the fact he had been crying in front of her, before stepping forward. Araminta simply looked up at him through her lashes as he gazed down at the mark on her shoulder, chest almost touching her nose.
Pity. That was the look he gave her at the brand. Not one of judgement, or fear, or horror, as she knew so many regarded the symbol with, and rightfully so. If anything it was more odd for him to not look at her the way she was used to or expected, because she would not blame him or like him any less than she already did.
"It almost looks like an eight," he said after a long moment, eyes flicking to meet hers in the moonlight.
"Would make sense with his name," Araminta scoffed. Her body was screaming at her to grab her gown and cover it properly, but she refused to break face now in front of Anakin.
"Better hope Padme doesn't see it," Anakin murmured.
"She won't find out," Araminta said, firmly.
Anakin blinked at her, before quietly asking, "If you didn't have to hide it to be safe, would you still?"
And Araminta leaned forward, a wicked glint in her monochrome eyes. "If nothing mattered, I'd cut it out of my own arm."
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ARAMINTA had fallen asleep after the fun midnight talk with Anakin, having retreated back to her room after ruining the mood, as usual. It had become habitual, everytime Anakin attempted to get anywhere with exposing her, trying to find her to be the person he believed he'd saved, she'd cut him off and present exactly how she always had.
She genuinely wondered when the boy would lose that infuriating look in his eyes, like he knew her and saw right through her, how many times she'd have to blow him off before he stopped trying to loosen her up, when he would finally just see her like everybody else did. She feared he wouldn't, and that infuriated her even more.
The assassin had woken up early, as she always did, and had stretched and practised moves in her massive guest room until the sun properly rose and illuminated her features, her silver tattoos almost glowing. The routine was something long-engrained from Octavian, who had preached practice and repetition until Araminta held a butterknife like she planned to kill someone. Despite everything, such routines stuck after so many years.
Araminta heard everyone else in the magnificent building stirring as the suns rose, ears picking up the slight shuffling movements and subtle voices. There had been servants active almost all night, but with the waking of Padme herself everything spurred into action. Araminta got dressed for the day, the same battle clothes she wore almost every day, this one being long sleeved and a little longer than necessary at the ends.
The first thing Araminta saw that morning was Padme, dressed as regally as she always was, beelining towards the assassin, with Anakin patiently standing behind her. Araminta wasn't oblivious to the way Anakin looked at Padme, like an infatuated schoolboy. It was amusing, if anything. Padme didn't reciprocate them, Araminta observed, that or the senator was just good at hiding it.
Araminta didn't need to know nor did she care in the first place.
"Araminta." It was the first time Padme had addressed her directly since the assassin had lived up to her title at the station. "May I have a word?"
Araminta blinked warily at her, but shrugged. "Sure."
She followed Padme outside to one of the many balconies, leaving Anakin to watch the two leave, looking concerned. Padme leaned against the stone wall overlooking the serene waters, while Araminta leaned against it on her side, her eyes trained on the senator, curiously.
"I...wanted to apologise," the woman said after a few moments of tense silence.
Araminta furrowed her brows. "For what?"
"For treating you so coldly after what you did on Coruscant," Padme admitted. Araminta turned and looked at the horizon. "I should know you did it to protect me and I should know you don't follow the Jedi way. I am sorry I misjudged you."
"I'm used to it," Araminta responded, not knowing how to accept the apology. She had never received one as sincere as this. "But, thanks, I guess," she said after a while, knowing it was the right thing to say. Padme hadn't needed to apologise, but Araminta felt lighter that she had.
"We were heading out in a bit," Padme continued, lightly. "My handmaids prepared a breakfast picnic and I was hoping you'd join us?"
Araminta sighed out her nose, not being partial to hanging out with Padme and Anakin but knowing Obi-wan would bite her head off considering her whole assignment was keeping an eye on them. So, she batted her lashes, and turned to Padme.
"Sure," she said, simply.
The senator looked almost relieved at the acceptance, as she nodded. "Wonderful."
Araminta could only blink at the horizon, frowning. Octavian would've thought she was a joke, sleeping in a luxurious building surrounded by rolling hills and cascading, blue waters, walking to attend a picnic prepared by servants.
And all while her actual assignment, Obi-Wan, was hunting down a bounty hunter and risking his life – and Araminta's – in the process. Yet here she was. She was meant for greater than this, wasn't she? That's what she'd always been told, though she'd learnt that Octavian's word couldn't be trusted.
Padme seemed to have a spot in mind, as she led Anakin and Araminta back down to the docks, the former not looking too pleased by the assassin joining them. She ignored him– she was doing her job, after all.
Araminta stood by Anakin as Padme, flustered and beaming, ran back up the stairs, having forgotten the picnic and insisting Anakin don't assist her. The padawan frowned at the rejection, Araminta watching slyly.
"You have a crush," the assassin mused, as if she hadn't seen him crying the night before.
Anakin tore his eyes away from the senator and glared at her. "I don't," he snipped, also looking at her as if nothing had happened.
Araminta scoffed. "You do and it's pathetic."
"Pathetic?" the dirty blonde repeated.
Araminta gave him a knowing look. "You would literally be fired from the Jedi Order just for–"
"I know," he cut her off, clenching his jaw and looking away from her.
Araminta blinked at the tone. "Good," she said, simply, squaring her shoulders as she waited for the senator to return.
There was only a second of silence before Anakin turned back to her.
"What do you care?" he asked.
"I don't," Araminta said with a shrug. Anakin narrowed his eyes at her, as she sighed dramatically. "It's a shame, really, you'd make a sweet pair if you were only allowed to choose."
"What did the Jedi ever do to you?" Anakin finally raised his voice slightly. Araminta barely flinched as he moved to stand in front of her. "I'm tired of listening to you complain about us at every opportunity."
"Well, too bad, I hate them, and you should, too," the assassin said, casually.
"Why? Octavian tell you that?" Anakin snickered.
"Yes, actually."
Anakin's eyes darkened. "Maybe you should stop idolising a galaxy-wide murderer."
"It'd be concerning if I did," Araminta mused, shaking her head. "No, I don't idolise the man. But he has good ideas. I've used what he taught me to learn and form my own ideals. And that includes hating the Jedi."
Anakin's face twisted in confusion. "You're delusional."
"At least I know what I believe in, and so does everyone else. Octavian is a bad man with controversial ideas, whatever, etcetera," Araminta said. "But the Jedi? They can hide behind their title and everyone will praise them regardless, unquestioning."
"The Jedi Order and the code is the only reason you're alive right now!" he snapped in exasperation.
Any words she had been anticipating died in her throat, as Araminta stared at him. She wanted to correct him, but she didn't have the stomach to, nor the ability to overcome her pride, as she swallowed thickly.
Anakin stared down at her, but she tore her gaze away first, which allowed her to notice Padme, thankfully, coming down the stairs towards them. Anakin, seeing she had focused on something, also turned to see the senator returning, and Araminta visibly saw his shoulders relax.
"What fun did I miss?" Padme chirped as she arrived in between the pair, forcing them apart. She was carrying a lavish basket, presumably with everything they needed for an over-the-top picnic.
Araminta said the first and most demeaning lie she could think of. "Reminiscing over Skywalker's first kiss."
The boy sputtered, glaring daggers at the smaller girl, but she remained focused on Padme, who beamed at the conversation topic as she turned her shining eyes to Anakin.
"Who was it, Ani?" she asked, curiously.
Anakin flustered. "N-no one."
"Oh, come on, surely!" Padme insisted, Araminta grinning at the desired effect, as Anakin continued to deny such a kiss happened, and Padme continued to believe he was simply lying out of embarrassment– rules of the Jedi and feelings be damned.
The topic mostly filtered out during the boat ride to Padme's desired spot, Araminta drinking in the views while hating the fact she was enclosed in the boat with nowhere to go. Padme kept up small talk with Anakin who eagerly obliged, while Araminta remained quiet.
When Padme said she had a spot, Araminta had not expected an uphill hike to a clearing surrounded by an impossible amount of waterfalls, rolling hills and meadows of flowers as far she could see, filled with docile creatures grazing. Araminta could only blink, feeling out of place in such a peaceful and homely place.
The look on Padme's face was one she knew she had never mirrored– something akin to child-like joy and familiarity.
The picnic was set up in moments, a blanket spread out and baskets unpacked and passed around. The food was immaculate, in the way only nobility would be served. Araminta was bitter for it, for the meals and portions and calculated amounts she had been raised on. She had never been allowed to indulge outside of missions or covers– and she couldn't help but be bitter that some were simply born lucky.
Araminta chewed in silence as Padme began to prod Anakin about the kiss again, much to the assassin's joy. Seeing her smirk at the conversation, the padawan rounded on her, sitting opposite Padme as the senator sat between the tumultuous pair.
"Alright then, when was yours?" Anakin finally snipped, giving her a smug look that suggested he could scarcely imagine her having such experiences compared to him.
"I was sixteen," Araminta said matter-of-factly. Anakin's eyes widened, apparently shocked that anyone would think of kissing her. That or he was horrified to have lost something to her.
"You're lying," Anakin denied, setting down his pastry as he gawked at the assassin.
"I wouldn't stoop that low to embarrass you," Araminta responded nonchalantly. "I swear it happened."
"With all due respect, when does an assassin find someone to share such a moment with?" Padme asked, looking almost fascinated with the topic.
Araminta paused for a bit, wondering if she dared to breach that memory with the conversation. It had been so long, after all, but she had dug the hole now.
"She was also an assassin," Araminta replied after a moment. Padme simply nodded, while Anakin rolled his eyes.
"Go figure," Anakin scoffed.
"Someone's jealous," Araminta cooed.
"Never."
"Relax. There's no shame in not having those experiences yet! We're still young, after all," Padme said, strongly, while Araminta's eyes drifted.
It had been five months since she had split from Octavian, but the ghosts of those she abandoned and left behind still haunted her. What was supposed to have been her family had been forgotten overnight in favour of her own survival– and she thought about them often.
Maybe she wasn't what Octavian had trained her to be, maybe she wasn't great, but she was alive, free of the torture and the pain and brainwashing. She was travelling the galaxy, eating expensive pastries prepared by servants surrounded by waterfalls and long, whispering grass, instead of surrounded by cold walls, portioned meals and the smell of iron.
She dared never search for Octavian, or any of his assassins, regardless of how curious she was. Did they know she wasn't dead? How had Octavian phrased her fate? And had he placed a kill order on her? Araminta wouldn't put the last one past him.
"And what about you, m'lady?" Anakin continued, as Araminta sat in thought.
"I don't know," Padme chuckled, looking at her lap.
"Sure you do, you just don't wanna tell me," Anakin scoffed.
"You going to use one of your Jedi mind tricks on me?" Padme challenged, reminding Araminta why she liked the senator to a degree.
"Never," Anakin denied.
"Alright," Padme finally relented. "I was twelve. His name was Palo. We were both in the Legislative Youth Program. He was a few years older than I, and very cute. He had dark curly hair, dreamy eyes."
"Whatever happened to him?" Anakin asked, lightly.
"I went into public service and he went on to become an artist," Padme explained.
"Maybe he was the smart one," Anakin snipped.
Padme frowned. "You really don't like politicians, do you?"
"I don't think the system works," Anakin admitted.
"Do you talk to every girl like this?" Araminta cut in as Padme fumbled for a response to the boy's brashness.
Anakin turned to the assassin. "Like what?"
"Like anything they say is wrong compared to what you believe," Araminta stated.
"We're on the verge of a civil war and you think the Jedi are the enemy," Anakin said, matter-of-factly, looking between both girls with views he questioned. Araminta scoffed, leaning back as Padme finally seemed to collect herself.
"How would you have it work, then?" she asked the padawan.
Anakin sighed. "We need a system where the politicians sit down and discuss the problem, agree what's in the best interest of all the people and then do it." He said it so simply that Araminta almost laughed at his naiveness.
Padme seemed to think the same thing, her expression a mix of confusion and offence. "That's what we do. People don't always agree," she explained, sounding frustrated.
"Well, then they should be made to," Anakin responded.
"Sounds like the beginning of a dictatorship to me," Araminta piped up.
Anakin shot her a look. "You don't know politics."
"And neither do you," she said, coolly.
"And what do you know of dictators?" Anakin persisted.
"Well, I was raised by one," Araminta said with a shrug.
And, with that, the tense conversation fizzled out.
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[ edited '23 ] i'm not dead?? shocker
this was absolutely not where i saw this chapter going but here's fun conversations and bonding and realistically teenagers being teenagers with some angst and politics and fundamentally different world views thrown in there
however i really like the next one because it really chips away at them properly talking to each other so i'll see y'all in the next one. please vote or comment or whatever pleases you <33