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    Summary

    He loved Padmé Naberrie.

    He made plans and ways, things he could say. Should he use the same words spoken to Emma Woodhouse? The ones spoken to Elizabeth Bennet? Or maybe the ones Anne Elliott read from Captain Wentworth, offering her his heart, even more her own than ever was his. It felt only fair, he had loved none but her, after all, and he felt his soul piecing, in half agony, half hope.

    But when the moment came, when he looked at her, sitting near a window, sunlight shining on her, that no words could compare.

    No word would ever be enough.

    Language:
    English
    Words:
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    Chapters:
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    Kudos:
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