“Padmé,” Anakin implored. He noticed the way she looked his arm, and he resisted giving into the self-conscious flare of bitter embarrassment that followed. They would get used to, he told himself.

“What’s wrong?” He could feel her troubled emotions, a benefit of being empathic. And he could always tell hers more acutely than he could any other non-Force-Sensitive, unusual as that was. But he didn’t question their connection, he assumed it was because of what they felt for each other. He’d never felt the way he did for Padmé for anyone else.

And right at that moment, he wanted to ease whatever it was that was weighing on her.