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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.
