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      AS THE AFTERNOON sun began to sink towards the horizon and drowned the lake country in hues of pink and gold, the unlikely trio began to pack up and head home. Anakin, simpering for the senator as always, carried the basket and supplies on the way back, as Padme easily led the way and Araminta brought up the rear.

The assassin's social battery was almost done, drained from a day of constantly bullying Anakin and shooting Padme sly smiles just to piss the padawan off, all while acting like she even had the right to laugh and hang out with them. Never in her life had she done so little in a day– something without any sort of achievement. Having a picnic did not count as protecting the senator, Araminta told herself.

"I used to come here all the time as a kid," Padme spoke up from the front. "We used to try and guess the different bird calls, and picked bunches of flowers for our mothers," she said, wistfully. "And we would swim beneath the sunsets before finding shapes in the stars."

Araminta hummed something in acknowledgement as she trekked downhill, surrounded by rushing water as they headed for the docks to take them home.

"That sounds amazing," Anakin murmured.

"What was life at the Temple like?" Padme asked.

"Nothing like that," the padawan replied after a moment. Araminta eyed the back of his head, sensing the shift in his tone, the hesitance. Padme, wisely, didn't go on to ask about Araminta's childhood. "Why didn't we go swimming today?" Anakin then asked.

Padme laughed, a radiant sound, and Anakin's cheeks turned pink. Araminta rolled her eyes– at both the reaction and knowing why the teenage boy asked such a question.

"What? What's so funny?" Anakin asked.

"Nothing," Padme said, shaking her head, slowing to a stop so she could look at Anakin, thus forcing Araminta to stop as well. "It's just– well– I didn't know if you could swim."

"I'm a Jedi," Anakin said in exasperation.

"So you automatically know everything?" Araminta said, snidely.

"What? No– that's not what I meant," Anakin snipped. "But, of course I can swim!"

"Oh, I'm so glad," Araminta deadpanned.

"Can you swim?" Anakin asked, indignantly.

"I could kill you five different ways with a spoon– of course, yes I can swim."

Almost as soon as the words had left her mouth, Anakin moved forward, and attempted to shove her into the body of water closest to them. Araminta's reflexes caught her and she moved out of his hold and ducked away from him, glaring daggers at the back of his neck. He turned to her with a wicked smirk, looking years younger than he normally did.

"You push me in you're a dead fucking man," Araminta snarled, knees bracing and tail twitching. Padme was looking at the pair, perplexed, looking caught between laughing at them or chastising them.

Anakin ignored her and charged again, directly tackling her as Araminta wrestled viciously against his hold, all the while the padawan was snickering like a maniac. Araminta was so focused on not getting wet that she couldn't pay attention to how young they felt in the moment, how Anakin's whole face lit up like the teenager he truly was, how the impending war and Obi-wan's fate felt like a far away responsibility.

And then she felt it, the Force, gripping her, for a second. But that second was all Anakin needed to send her flying into the water, her back and shoulder taking the brunt as she sunk under the crystal clear surface. Water flooded her senses as anger burned through her system, propelling her as she kicked to the surface with ease.

She surfaced to Padme and Anakin both laughing, while her hair hung around her face in clumps and her clothes clung to her body heavy with water.

"You cheated," Araminta sputtered, keeping herself above the surface as she treaded water.

"You just didn't try hard enough," Anakin retorted.

"Oh, really?" Araminta asked snidely as she pushed herself out of the water on the rocks surrounding the pool Anakin had thrown her into. Water immediately soaked the surface of the stones as she wrung her hair out and her clothes seeped.

And she was grateful for her long-sleeve shirt which, despite being unbearably slick against her skin, shielded her brand and other marks from the eyes of her companions if the swim had been planned.

"C'mon, it's getting late and some of us still need to take baths," Anakin teased, Araminta looking up at him as she got to her feet.

Her eyes darkened, and before Anakin could register, she had tackled him into the water, using momentum and her legs to hold him in place as she gripped him around the torso, the pair being engulfed by the blue body.

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      THE UNPLANNED SWIM resulted in a delayed dinner once the trio returned back to the house, with Anakin and Araminta both needing to change and dry off. The assassin had tried to ignore how light she felt after the day, how normal it had felt and how little the mission had been on her mind.

It was unusual and Octavian would be so disappointed in her, she knew that, as his brand burned pale on her arm as she changed. It had long since healed, but sometimes if she studied it too much she could feel the burn all over again, or the itch of it trying to heal. Three years it had marred her skin, and it still felt alien on it.

Sometimes she felt the way that Anakin looked at her, but she knew she could never pursue it or even come close to admitting it to herself. She was what Octavian had made her and that was it. She was a good person for the sake of survival and she was too far gone. That was it. She was nothing but the assassin that he had carved her into.

Dinner took place in a regal room with a long table that made Araminta feel like she had to yell across for Padme and Anakin to hear, with servants buzzing around them and handing off dishes that were covered by lids and other fancy practices Araminta had only ever heard stories about. The windows to yet another balcony were open, letting in a pleasant warm breeze as a fire burned in the back of the room, causing shadows to flicker and dance across the walls as the sun sank below the surface.

Padme had changed yet again, wearing a daring black dress that made its way into a choker as well. Araminta was continually impressed by the senator's outfits, which she made known by the looks she shared with the other woman– indulging in the way Anakin glared at the assassin for it.

"I'll get it out of you eventually," Padme mused as Araminta sat in diligent silence. The senator was still trying to pester the padawan's first kiss out of him, trying to catch him off guard, it seemed. Araminta just watched in quiet amusement at the consequences of her actions.

"That'll be the day," Anakin relented, uncomfortably, staring at his plate. He had gone from denying the allegations to just accepting it as something he'd never tell Padme.

"How are you finding the meal, Araminta?" Padme asked, politely. Araminta perked up at being addressed, nodding.

"It's good," she said, simply.

"I am glad," Padme said, with a smile. "I was unsure of what tastes Adanei had."

"Oh." Araminta was caught off by the thoughtfulness.

"You come from Zyris, correct?" Padme continued. Araminta paused with her fork above her plate, giving Padme a side glance at her interest in her culture. "Forgive me for my intrusion but I am fascinated by it. I– I haven't had a chance to meet your Senator yet."

"We don't have a Senator," Araminta responded.

"I know, not officially– but I'm fascinated by Zyrisian culture," Padme said, wistfully.

"Not officially?" Anakin chimed in.

Araminta glared at her plate. "Zyris has been fighting for sovereignty for years now. The Pantorans continue to deny it and fight against it. It's a fucking mess."

Anakin looked surprised. "What do Pantorans have to do with Adanei?"

"We're related," Araminta told him with a shrug. "But they think less of us. We're not as evolved as them and they've been trying to claim our independence since before I was born."

"I... had no idea," Anakin murmured. Araminta remained indifferent, not sure how she felt talking about her former home.

"I always viewed your people as peaceful," Padme said, softly.

"They are," Araminta agreed.

"You must miss them," Padme continued. Araminta's eyes immediately hardened, refusing to breach that conversation, refusing to travel down that path of 'what if's and memories.

"I was eight when I left," Araminta cut in. "So I don't remember much." The stone at her throat burned– a lie.

"You didn't leave, you were kidnapped," Anakin scoffed.

The remark was so abrupt, so out of nowhere, Araminta could only stare at him. Padme's lips parted slightly as anger blossomed in Araminta's chest; anger at him speaking so vehemently on something he didn't understand, at bringing up her past, acting like he knew her. But above all else, feeling pity for her– like he always did.

She was sick of pity, of such a vulnerable thing that he had attached to her. She was not built off pity, she did not survive out of vulnerability or being saved, she had earned her brand, however twisted it was, and pity was as much a failure to her as being unable to kill him in the first place.

Pity didn't exist to someone like her and if it did– then she had become everything she was taught to hate.

"Like the Jedi kidnapped you?" Araminta snapped, the only thing she could think to make him feel what he made her feel in that moment.

Anakin's eyes narrowed at her tone, as he calmly began, "I made a choice–"

"Did you? Really?" Araminta interrupted, snidely.

Anakin got to his feet, pushing his seat back. His blue eyes were alight as Araminta met them, unwavering.

"I have had enough of you slandering the Jedi," he snapped.

"Well, too bad," Araminta said, smugly, happy to see the conversation had shifted away from her personal life. "I am not a Jedi. And I never will be."

"You're an assassin posing as a hero," Anakin sneered, in a way that said he was trying to demean her.

"Never claimed to be a hero," Araminta said with an unbothered shrug, because he was right. Of course he was. "I'm here because I don't want to die and this is the only way to stay alive right now."

"Anakin–" Padme began, sounding unsure, eyes flicking between the two.

"It's fine, senator," Anakin said without looking at her, eyes solely focused on Araminta, who had neatly folded her hands on the table in mocking. "I'm sorry you have to see this. If you have something else to say, Solarii, then not here."

"Oh, lovely," Araminta deadpanned. "Taking this outside, are we?" She got to her feet, not particularly intending to keep talking, but more to have an excuse to retire to her room for the night. Clearly, the hours of picnicking and jumping into the water were over.

Much to her frustration, Anakin followed her outside the room, and she could feel the heat radiating off him. The second she turned a corner, he was in front of her, forcing her to stop walking and look up at him.

"Why?" he asked. "Why do you hate the Jedi so much?"

"Let this go," Araminta sighed. "I'm tired–"

"I want to know," Anakin snapped.

Araminta pressed her lips together, sighing out her nose. "Okay," she said, lowly. "Where were the Jedi when I was a child? To save me from Octavian and prevent this from ever happening? Where were they then?" she said, all very quickly, words venomous. She barely reached Anakin's chest, but her presence made her feel much larger.

"You call yourself intergalactic heroes but the truth is you're a cult who follows repressive rules and can't even truly commit to combat. You don't have the stomach to do what really needs to be done to achieve your goals. You are weak, and false," she continued, and she watched as Anakin's face shifted into one of anger.

"Take that back," he said, firmly.

"No," Araminta sneered.

"The Jedi are not the enemy," Anakin persisted, enunciating every syllable as if that would get her to believe him.

"You saying that cause you believe it or because you can't handle it being true?" Araminta asked.

"Stop it. Octavian brainwashed you," Anakin said.

"And the Jedi have brainwashed you," Araminta retorted.

Anakin shook his head. "You said it yourself, you were raised by a dictator. Octavian shouldn't define you."

Something about the sentence made Araminta not want to answer, so she spat something else out instead. "How can you expect to be the one who brings balance to the Force when they smother you and force you to conform?"

But Anakin didn't take the bait. "Shut up. Stop changing the topic."

"You are not balanced. You are exactly what they want you to be– an extreme," Araminta continued, passionately.

"Is that what I am?" Anakin jeered.

Araminta laughed, a hollow sound backed with no real joy. "You think I blame you, but I blame the Jedi and your blindness to them."

"No, I think you do blame me. You've always hated me," Anakin retorted.

"Don't flatter yourself, I don't hate you. Not really," Araminta said, somewhat honestly.

"You sure act like it," Anakin snorted.

"Because I'm a bitch, Skywalker," Araminta sighed, tilting her head.

"At least we agree on something."

Araminta just gave him a look, before moving to get away, shoving his shoulder probably more than she needed, making for her room, when Anakin spoke up.

"Why can't you admit I saved you? Are you too fucking proud for that?"

Araminta slowed, feeling anger lance through her system at the words, and before she knew it she had whipped around to glare at him.

"You saved me out of guilt," she snapped. "I owe you nothing."

"I never said you owed me anything. You put that stupid weight on it yourself," Anakin said back in exasperation.

Araminta swallowed thickly, unable to think of anything in the moment, but her monochrome eyes moved down to the scar at his throat. It was so small, almost barely noticeable, but she knew it was there. She was always aware of it.

"I wish I'd never saved you," he said suddenly, drawing Araminta's attention back to his face. "You are exactly what everyone says you are and I tried so hard to see something else, to see an actual person."

"Why?" Araminta snapped in exasperation. "Why the fuck do you care so much about whether I'm a person or not? What's it to you?"

"Because I thought you'd be better off!" Anakin shouted. Any sane person would've flinched, but Araminta only stared at him. "I saved you because it was the right thing to do– but also because I thought you were innocent at heart. I thought you were just some girl who had been manipulated and deserved a second chance. But it has been months and you are still as blinded by Octavian as the day you tried to kill me."

"I never asked to be a part of your being-a-good-person project," Araminta spat, hating his words. She hated his pity, his motives, his interference. She hated how inherently good he was and how he was naive enough to think that of her. She hated that he had won her a second chance on purpose and while she agonised over it, he slept easier at night thinking he had done something good.

"So I should've just stood by and let them execute you?" Anakin asked, sounding at a loss.

"Maybe," Araminta murmured. "I probably fucking deserved it," she added, more bitterly.

"Maybe," Anakin, said quietly.

"I never asked for your fucking pity," Araminta sneered, shaking her head.

"I pitied the girl who was forced to kill people and has a brand burned onto her," Anakin replied, voice soft, as if he was familiar with her or understood her.

"You don't know me!" Araminta finally snapped, holding up a finger in anger. Anakin's eyes widened at the unpredicted reaction, as Araminta's throat tightened. "You're the Chosen One who never needed to struggle a day to be considered anything."

It was immediately clear the words had done their damage, as Anakin's face shifted. "Is that what you think?" he asked, hollowly.

She didn't know. "Yes."

Anakin lifted his chin, and the only way Araminta could describe the way he looked at her as disappointment.

"Good talk," he said, evenly. And then he was gone, brushing past her, leaving her in the hallway racked with too many emotions and thoughts, stunned still and reeling.

She slammed her door when she finally reached her room, locking it as well. She wanted to scream, to let out her anger and emotions, anger she didn't even deserve to feel. She was rigid in her ways, in her beliefs, but so was he. So stubborn, so damn stubborn.

His words, so unfamiliar to her and so unwelcome. The disappointment, the hope and the expectations. She had seen it all flash across his face and taint his words. But above all– the hurt. She had hurt him and angered him, and she knew in his eyes she had failed him. And in the deepest part of her, she felt the same, but he was right, she was too fucking proud to admit that.

An assassin who had never survived off of pity or favours or someone's kindness, she was made to reject such advances and spit in their faces. Because who was she if not the steel-blooded assassin she had been carved into?

No one, that was the answer.

And being no one was scarier than being a bad person.

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[ edited '23 ] this is still one of the most important chapters to me idc

is this good characterisation?? idk lmao

anyway!! i wanted to include some more banter and just kids being kids in that first bit topped off with some confrontation and fighting that's been building up from their conflicting views at the end

also it's nice to see this book still has readers after i left it for so long :') so thanks for the support on the last chapter

short chapter because my throat has hurt for a week straight and i've worked 80 hours in the last two weeks i am so burnt out

also if it's not clear araminta does hate the jedi but that wasn't her main issue with anakin she just used it as like a smokescreen/projection of the underlying issues