star-wars-writing

[star-wars-writing]

The Winter Rose bloom - Part 2

A/N:

Thank you all so much for the amazing reactions to the first part of this story! 💕 Your enthusiasm and kind words mean the world to me, and I’m thrilled to hear how much you enjoyed it. Writing this continuation was such a joy, and I truly hope it captures the same magic and emotion that resonated with you in the first part.

I’m still considering writing another installment, but I’d love to hear if there’s an interest in seeing more of this story unfold. Let me know your thoughts, favorite moments, or anything you’d like to see next—I’m always open to ideas!

Part 1

****

The palace was cloaked in silence. Not the kind of silence that felt empty, but a silence that held weight—soft, still, alive with the hum of stories just beneath the surface. Outside, the snow lay undisturbed under a moonlit sky, each frozen flake catching the faint light like scattered diamonds across the earth.

(Y/n) walked alone through the gardens, the hem of her cloak trailing faint patterns in the fresh snow. The chill nipped at her cheeks and nose, but she welcomed it. The cold was grounding, sharp enough to cut through the chaos in her mind. She’d been restless, the evening a blur of thoughts and feelings she couldn’t untangle.

The dance with Rex—it had been nothing and yet everything. One waltz, one moment where the world had shrunk to just him and her, the music a quiet echo in her chest. She had spent the rest of the evening avoiding him, convincing herself it was safer to pretend it hadn’t happened.

But out here, alone under the stars, she couldn’t lie to herself.

He’s slipping through the cracks.

Her heart tightened at the thought, at the quiet pull she felt whenever Rex looked at her like that—as though he saw her, truly saw her, in ways no one ever had.

She stopped at the edge of the garden, her gaze drawn to the small, secluded grove of winter roses. The lanterns that usually lit the garden had been dimmed, leaving the space bathed in silvery moonlight. The roses grew in clusters, their delicate petals pale white, blushing faintly at the tips like they were kissed by morning light. They seemed almost unreal, their beauty fragile against the cold.

(Y/n) knelt carefully beside one of the blooms, brushing snow from its base with gentle fingers. “You’re stubborn, aren’t you?” she murmured softly, her breath visible in the cold air. “Blooming in the middle of winter like it’s nothing.”

“They thrive when others cannot.”

The voice, though soft, startled her. (Y/n) turned sharply, her cloak swirling around her as she rose to her feet. From the shadows beyond the garden path, Yoda appeared, his small form almost blending into the folds of his heavy robe. The old advisor moved slowly, his steps light, as though he were floating rather than walking.

“Master Yoda,” (Y/n) said breathlessly, pressing a hand to her chest. “You scared me.”

“Mm.” Yoda tilted his head up slightly, the faintest flicker of amusement in his wise eyes. “Much on your mind, there is. Scaring easily, you should not.”

(Y/n) let out a small, nervous laugh, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Clearly,” Yoda said, stepping closer to the winter roses. His clawed hands folded in front of him as he gazed down at the blooms with quiet reverence. “Drawn here, are you? The winter rose… calls to those who carry heavy hearts.”

(Y/n) frowned slightly, glancing back at the flowers. “They’re just flowers, aren’t they?”

Yoda’s ears twitched faintly as he turned to look up at her. “More, they are. Symbols of resilience, strength. Love unexpected.” He extended a hand, gently brushing his fingertips against one of the petals. “In the cold, they bloom. When all else withers, they thrive. A lesson, there is.”

(Y/n) stared at him, her brows knitting slightly as her heart gave a quiet, uneasy flutter. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“Understanding comes not with the mind,” Yoda replied softly, his voice dropping to a quiet murmur, “but with the heart.” He turned his sharp gaze back to her, and (Y/n) suddenly felt as though every carefully guarded thought she carried was laid bare before him. “Something troubles you.”

(Y/n) looked away, her arms crossing tightly over her chest. “I’m fine.”

Yoda made a small noise, part sigh, part chuckle. “Fine, you are not. The dance tonight—meant more, it did.”

(Y/n)’s heart skipped, her head snapping back toward him. “You saw?”

Yoda’s smile was small but knowing, his ancient eyes twinkling faintly. “Much do I see. Much do I feel.” He tilted his head, studying her closely. “A spark, there is. Do you not feel it?”

(Y/n)’s mouth opened, but she faltered. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Afraid, you are,” Yoda said simply, his words like a quiet strike to the heart. “Afraid to feel. Afraid of what it means.”

(Y/n) turned away sharply, staring out at the frost-draped garden as though the snow itself might give her answers. “I can’t afford to feel. That’s not why I’m here. My job is to create connections for others, to help them find love. Not me.”

“And yet,” Yoda murmured, stepping closer to her, his gaze unwavering, “love finds us when we least expect it.”

(Y/n) let out a shaky breath, the ache in her chest growing sharper. “I can’t. I can’t let that happen.”

“Cannot, or will not?” Yoda’s voice was gentle but firm, a challenge disguised as a question. “The heart, you deny. Why?”

(Y/n) pressed her lips together, closing her eyes tightly as though she could shut out the truth he had seen so easily. “Because…” She swallowed hard, her voice trembling. “Because love makes you vulnerable. It makes you weak. And I can’t be weak, not here. Not now.”

Yoda was silent for a long moment, his gaze full of understanding—too much understanding. “Weakness?” he said at last, shaking his head. “No. Love, a strength it is. A power greater than duty or fear.” He turned to the winter roses again, his voice soft. “Like these blooms. Fragile they seem, but strong, they are.”

(Y/n) stared at the flowers, her chest tight with the weight of his words.

Yoda’s gaze flicked back to her. “What you feel… do not deny it. To do so, you wither. Like those who fear the cold.” He turned and began to walk away, his small form blending once again with the shadows of the garden path. “Trust yourself, (Y/n) (Y/L/N). The path ahead, unclear it may be. But the heart always knows.”

*** 

When Yoda was gone, (Y/n) sank back to her knees beside the winter roses, her fingers brushing against their pale petals. The flowers were cold but alive, their delicate strength pulsing through her fingertips.

She thought of Rex—his teasing smiles, the way his gaze lingered just a moment too long, the way he made her feel like she could breathe, like the weight on her shoulders might not be hers alone to bear.

Her heart fluttered painfully in her chest.

Love finds us when we least expect it.

The words echoed in her mind, and no matter how hard she tried to push them away, they remained—quiet, insistent, impossible to ignore.

(Y/n) closed her eyes, her breath hitching softly. “What am I doing?”

But deep down, beneath the fear, the doubt, and the walls she’d so carefully built around herself, she already knew the answer.

And that terrified her most of all.

In the shadows of the palace above, Yoda stood at a high window, watching the garden below. His expression was calm, his gaze sharp as he observed (Y/n) kneeling by the winter roses.

“Plant the seed, I have,” he murmured softly to himself, his hands folded before him. “Now, let it grow.”

And as the night stretched on and the snow continued to fall, a small smile touched his lips, the quiet hum of possibility lingering in the air.

***

The palace halls were quiet, cloaked in the deep stillness of night. Rex wandered through them aimlessly, his steps a soft echo on the marble floors. Sleep had proven elusive, and after hours of tossing and turning, he’d given up on trying. Instead, he found himself here, walking the shadowed corridors like a restless ghost.

The ballroom was empty now—no laughter, no music—only the faint glint of moonlight streaming through the tall windows. He stood in the center of the room, staring at the empty space where, only hours before, he’d held (Y/n) in his arms.

The memory lingered—her hand in his, the warmth of her touch, the faint flush in her cheeks when he’d leaned closer. She’d looked at him with something unspoken, something that unsettled him in a way nothing else ever had.

You’re in trouble, Wolffe’s voice had echoed in his mind earlier, and for once, Rex knew his cousin was right.

He’d felt it building for weeks now—the pull whenever (Y/n) glanced his way, the way his chest felt too tight when she smiled at him, the quiet ache when he saw her frowning over a task she refused to delegate. She was focused, controlled, so determined to shoulder everything on her own, and he…

He wanted to be the one who helped her carry it.

“Thinking deeply, you are.”

Rex flinched, his hand instinctively going to his belt as he spun to face the voice. “Stars—Master Yoda!”

From the shadows near the grand staircase, Yoda stepped forward, his small form a silhouette against the moonlight spilling through the glass. “Peace, Captain,” he said softly, his tone laced with dry amusement. “Jumpy, you are.”

Rex exhaled slowly, running a hand through his unruly blond hair. “Only because you have a habit of sneaking up on people, Master.”

“Mm,” Yoda hummed as he approached, his steps slow and deliberate. “Sneaking, I do not. Observing, I do.”

Rex tilted his head, his brow furrowing faintly. “Observing what?”

Yoda stopped just in front of him, gazing up with eyes that seemed to see far more than Rex was willing to show. “You.”

“Me?” Rex’s voice faltered, and he forced a short, unconvincing laugh. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Yoda’s ears twitched faintly, his expression patient but unyielding. “Hiding, you cannot. From yourself, least of all.”

Rex swallowed hard, suddenly feeling like a boy caught sneaking sweets from the kitchens. “I’m not hiding.”

“Ah.” Yoda’s gaze didn’t waver. “And yet, here you are. Alone in the dark. Thoughts heavy, heart uncertain.”

Rex looked away, staring at the far windows as his jaw tightened. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“(Y/n), I mean,” Yoda said softly, and Rex’s head snapped back toward him, his heart skipping painfully in his chest.

“What about (Y/n)?”

Yoda tilted his head knowingly. “Much did I see tonight. The dance, the silence between the steps, the way you look at her. Truth, that is. Deny it, you cannot.”

Rex blinked, his throat tight, words failing him. How does he always do this?

“It’s not—” he started, but the words trailed off. What could he say? That (Y/n) was nothing more than a distraction? That she was just the palace’s matchmaker? The very idea felt hollow, like trying to bury a wildfire with a handful of sand.

Yoda’s eyes softened, his tone gentler now. “Conflicted, you are. But afraid, too.”

“I’m not afraid,” Rex shot back, though the edge in his voice betrayed the truth.

“Afraid to fall, you are.” Yoda’s gaze turned to the empty dance floor, as though he could still see the ghost of their waltz playing out under the moonlight. “Afraid of what it means. What it changes.”

Rex let out a slow, shaky breath, his shoulders sagging slightly. “You don’t understand. I’m not the one who matters here. Cody’s the prince. The throne rests on him. I’m just… the spare.”

Yoda turned his wise eyes back to Rex, his expression unreadable. “Just the spare, you are not.”

Rex flinched at the quiet strength in Yoda’s voice.

“Love, a crown it does not see,” Yoda continued softly. “A heart does not weigh titles. It does not count shadows. It only knows what it feels. And feel, you do.”

Rex stood there, staring at the small figure before him, his chest tight with everything he couldn’t say. The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken truths.

Finally, Yoda stepped closer, his voice dropping to a murmur. “A choice, you have. To reach for what your heart wants, or let it slip into the shadows.” He turned slowly, his steps soft against the marble as he made his way back toward the staircase. “Take her to the market, you should. Light, laughter, and life there is. Perhaps there, a path you will see.”

Rex blinked, startled. “The market?”

“Tradition, it is,” Yoda said, glancing back with a faint smile. “Even love blooms in markets, when given the chance.”

And with that, Yoda disappeared into the darkness, leaving Rex alone in the empty ballroom, his words hanging like starlight in the air.

***

Rex turned back to the window, his reflection faint in the moonlit glass. Yoda’s words echoed in his mind—afraid to fall, afraid of what it changes.

He had spent so long telling himself he was just the spare—Cody’s shadow, the man who filled the gaps when necessary. He didn’t hold the weight of a throne, didn’t have the legacy of Alderia balanced on his shoulders. But now, as he stood in the stillness of the ballroom, one thing became painfully clear:

(Y/n) mattered.

To him.

He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a quiet, frustrated sigh. Yoda was right—he couldn’t hide from this. From her. From the way she made him feel like he wasn’t just a shadow of someone greater. When she looked at him—really looked at him—he felt like Rex. Just Rex.

And if he was being honest with himself, he didn’t want to let that go.

His lips tugged into a small, lopsided smile, the kind he usually wore when he’d decided on some reckless idea he wouldn’t let go of.

“The market, huh?” he muttered to himself, his voice a low murmur in the empty room. “All right, Master Yoda. You win.”

His gaze lingered on the reflection of the snow-covered garden outside. He could already picture it—the colorful stalls, the soft glow of lanterns, the scent of sweet pastries and spiced cider in the cold air. It would be a place to breathe, a place where she wouldn’t have to plan, organize, or hold the weight of the world.

And maybe, just maybe, a place where he could show her what he was starting to feel—what he was no longer afraid to admit.

Rex turned, a new resolve settling in his chest as he strode toward the door. Tomorrow, he would ask her.

And this time, he wouldn’t let her say no.

****

The day felt busier than most. The air of the palace buzzed with quiet urgency as servants darted to and fro, arms filled with flowers, fabric, and scrolls, all in preparation for the Christmas Ball only three days away. Everywhere (Y/n) turned, someone needed her attention.

A group of musicians waited in the east wing for her approval of their selections. Bakers wanted confirmation of the dessert menu. The head steward begged her for one last final list of the noble families attending. The suitors—always elegant, always smiling—floated through the palace halls like perfectly arranged decorations, though none of their efforts seemed to touch Cody in the way (Y/n) had hoped.

He had to make his choice soon, and the pressure weighed on all of them.

(Y/n) pressed a hand to her temple as she moved through the grand hallway, her boots clicking faintly against the marble. She was tired. She hadn’t slept well—thoughts of the previous day and the midnight conversation with Yoda kept her tossing and turning.

More than anything, though, she couldn’t stop thinking about Rex.

The way he’d looked at her during the dance, the way his hand had lingered in hers just a little longer than it should have. It had felt real—as if, for just one fleeting moment, everything she’d been ignoring, denying, and burying deep inside had broken through the surface.

It terrified her. And yet…

“(Y/n)!”

His voice broke through her spiraling thoughts, warm and unmistakably his. She turned, and there he was—Rex, coming down the hall with that effortless stride of his, his hair still slightly tousled, as if he hadn’t bothered to tame it this morning. His tunic was less formal than usual, but he wore it like a prince all the same.

“Rex,” she greeted, forcing a breath of calm into her voice. “Shouldn’t you be—”

“Somewhere else?” he finished with a grin, stepping closer. “Probably. But that can wait.”

She arched a brow, trying to hold her ground as he stopped just in front of her. His presence had a way of filling every space, and she hated how easily it disarmed her.

“What do you need?” she asked, her tone crisp despite the fluttering in her chest.

Rex tilted his head slightly, studying her with that maddening look he always wore when he saw right through her. “What you need,” he corrected softly. “You’ve been running yourself into the ground, (Y/n). If you don’t stop, you’re going to collapse before the ball.”

She frowned, opening her mouth to argue, but he cut her off before she could.

“No excuses,” Rex said firmly, though his smile remained. “I’m taking you out.”

“Out?” she repeated, blinking in surprise. “Out where?”

“To the Christmas market in the old town,” he replied, hands in his pockets, as though the idea were the simplest thing in the world. “I already made arrangements. You can’t say no.”

(Y/n) stared at him, thrown completely off balance. “Rex, I can’t. There’s too much to—”

“Delegate,” he finished smoothly. “Hunter, Wolffe, and the rest of them can keep Cody entertained while you’re gone. And I promise the palace won’t burn down in your absence.”

“I don’t think—”

“(Y/n).” His voice softened, and she faltered. “Come with me. Just for a few hours. You’ve earned it.”

She swallowed, searching his face for some sign that this was just another one of his games, but there was none. His gaze held hers, steady and sincere, and suddenly, the argument she was building crumbled into nothing.

“Fine,” she murmured at last, unable to stop the way her lips curved into the faintest smile. “But just for a little while.”

Rex’s grin widened, bright and triumphant. “That’s all I need.”

*** 

The old town square was alive with color, light, and laughter. Twinkling lanterns were strung between wooden stalls, their glow spilling across the snow-dusted cobblestones like starlight. The scents of cinnamon, roasted chestnuts, and spiced cider filled the air, mixing with the faint notes of a quartet playing carols near the square’s fountain.

(Y/n) couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so untethered.

The palace, with all its marble halls and heavy expectations, felt a world away as she walked beside Rex, their footsteps crunching softly through the snow. The crowd pressed in around them—children chasing each other with sticky candy canes in hand, merchants calling out their wares—but none of it overwhelmed her.

For once, she wasn’t thinking about the next event or the next set of introductions. She wasn’t calculating smiles or matching personalities. She was… here.

“This is beautiful,” (Y/n) said softly, looking around as they passed a stall selling hand-carved figurines.

“It’s tradition,” Rex replied, glancing sideways at her. “The market happens every year. The best food, the best gifts, the best stories—it’s all here.”

(Y/n) smiled faintly, her breath visible in the cold air. “I don’t remember the last time I visited a market. Not like this.”

“Well, that’s a tragedy,” Rex said with mock seriousness, placing a hand over his heart. “We’ll have to fix that.”

She rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up. “You can’t fix everything, you know.”

“I can try,” he replied, and though the words were playful, there was something deeper in his tone that made her chest tighten.

***

They wandered between the stalls, stopping to admire hand-embroidered scarves and baskets of sugared almonds. Rex bought them both cups of steaming cider, and (Y/n) found herself smiling more than she had in weeks.

At one point, they passed a small stall draped in velvet, its table covered with delicate pieces of jewelry—rings, brooches, and necklaces that caught the light like drops of water.

Rex paused, his gaze falling on something nestled in the center. “Wait here,” he murmured, stepping forward without explanation.

(Y/n) blinked, watching as he spoke briefly with the vendor, who handed him something small. When Rex turned back, he held a simple silver necklace in his hand. Dangling from its chain was a small charm shaped like a winter rose—delicate, its petals etched with painstaking care.

“For you,” he said, holding it out to her.

(Y/n) froze, her heart stumbling. “What? Rex, you don’t—”

“I do,” he interrupted softly, his gaze locking on hers. “It reminded me of you.”

She stared at him, speechless, as the words settled over her like a blanket of snow. He stepped closer, lifting the necklace slightly, as though asking silent permission to fasten it around her neck. When she nodded, he moved behind her, his fingers brushing against the back of her neck as he clasped it into place.

(Y/n) swallowed hard, her pulse thrumming in her ears. “Rex…”

“It’s just a necklace,” he said quietly, though his voice trembled slightly. “But I hope it reminds you of this. Of… us.”

(Y/n) turned to face him, the charm cool against her skin, her chest too tight for words. She met his gaze—steady, open, and full of something that made her feel fragile and strong all at once.

For the first time, she didn’t fight it—the pull, the spark that had been growing between them since the day they met.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Rex smiled, small and real. “You’re welcome.”

Around them, the world spun on—lanterns swaying in the breeze, music drifting through the night—but for (Y/n) and Rex, the square was quiet, the space between them alive with everything they couldn’t yet say.

And in that silence, (Y/n) felt it: the shift.

The undeniable truth that she was falling—had already fallen—and she was no longer afraid.

***

The Christmas market was winding down, its vibrant glow fading into the soft hush of evening. Lanterns swayed gently on their strings, their golden light spilling faintly across cobblestones dusted with fresh snow. Merchants packed up their wares, their laughter quieter now, while the music, once lively, had softened into a slow, wistful melody that floated through the crisp winter air.  

(Y/n) walked beside **Rex**, her hands tucked deep into the pockets of her cloak. The silver necklace he’d given her lay warm against her skin, its weight strangely comforting. She traced it absently with her thumb as they strolled, the charm a silent reminder of a moment she knew she would carry with her long after she left.  

The night sky stretched above them, dark and endless, dotted with stars that shone like diamonds. The moon hung low, bright and full, casting its silver light over the palace grounds as they passed through the gates and into the gardens.  

For a long while, they didn’t speak. They didn’t need to. The quiet between them felt full—alive with unspoken words, with the weight of everything that had grown between them in these last few weeks. 

(Y/n) finally broke the silence, her voice soft. “Thank you… for tonight.”  

Rex glanced at her, his breath visible in the cold air. “For the market? Or the necklace?”  

“Both,” (Y/n) said, turning her gaze to him. “It’s been… a long time since I felt this. *Light.*”  

Rex smiled faintly, though there was something deeper in his eyes—something softer. “Good. You deserve it.”  

(Y/n) looked away again, the sharp edges of her usual defenses slipping. Her heart was unsteady in her chest, her thoughts tangled in a way she couldn’t explain. *What are you doing?* she wondered, the question burning in her mind.  

And yet, she couldn’t stop herself.  

***

They reached the heart of the gardens—a small clearing flanked by tall evergreen trees, their branches heavy with snow. A narrow path wove through the space, its edges dusted with frost, and the lanterns here were dim, their light muted and golden against the silver glow of the moon. 

Rex stopped, his boots crunching softly in the snow as he turned to face her. “Let’s stay here for a minute.”  

(Y/n) blinked, surprised. “Here?”  

“Yeah.” He shrugged, though there was something uncharacteristically uncertain in the way he shoved his hands into his coat pockets. “I like it. It’s quiet.”  

(Y/n) tilted her head, watching him closely. He looked different now—less like the easygoing, teasing Rex she had grown used to, and more like someone carrying something heavy. She felt her chest tighten, as though her own heart recognized the shift.  

“Rex?” she asked softly. “What’s wrong?”  

He met her gaze then, his stormy blue-gray eyes steady and raw. For the first time, (Y/n) realized how much he was holding back—how much he hadn’t said.  

He exhaled slowly, the sound quiet but heavy in the still air. “Nothing’s wrong,” he murmured. “Not really. I just…”  

(Y/n)’s pulse quickened as he paused, his gaze dropping briefly before he looked back up at her.  

“I’ve been trying to figure out how to say this,” Rex admitted, his voice low, rough around the edges. “Because the truth is, I’ve never been very good at this sort of thing.”

“At what sort of thing?” (Y/n) asked, though she already felt the answer forming somewhere deep inside her.  

“At being honest about what I want,” Rex said simply, his expression softening in a way that made her throat tighten. “About how I feel.”  

(Y/n)’s breath hitched as he stepped closer, his movements careful, deliberate, as though afraid he might scare her away.  

“I’ve come to care about you, (Y/n),” Rex confessed, the words slipping from him like something he’d been holding onto for too long. “More than I ever expected to. More than I should.”

(Y/n) blinked up at him, stunned into silence. Her heart thudded so loudly in her chest she was certain he could hear it. “Rex…” 

He shook his head faintly, his voice gentler now. “I know you’re leaving after the ball. You’re here to do a job, and you’ve done it better than anyone else ever could. But you’ve been here for weeks, (Y/n)—weeks where you’ve managed to make this place feel alive again. You’ve made *me* feel alive again.”  

Her throat tightened, her breath trembling as she met his gaze. His words weren’t poetic or rehearsed. They were raw, unpolished—real.  

“I don’t know what happens after this,” Rex continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I don’t want to let this slip away without knowing if there’s a chance for more.”  

(Y/n) stared up at him, her heart shattering and reforming all at once. “Rex,” she whispered, the sound so small it nearly disappeared into the night. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”  

“I do,” he said firmly, his hand lifting just slightly before it fell back to his side, as though he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch her. “I’ve spent my whole life being the spare—the one people forget about when they aren’t looking. But you…” He smiled faintly, his gaze searching hers. “You see me. You always have.”  

(Y/n) swallowed hard, her chest aching with the truth of it. “And what if it’s too late? What if…”  

“It’s not,” Rex said softly, stepping even closer now. The space between them was gone, the air electric with the weight of everything they felt but hadn’t said. “It’s not too late unless we let it be.” 

(Y/n) looked up at him, her pulse wild, her breath coming in shallow waves. She felt it then—the pull between them, like gravity itself had shifted, drawing her closer to him with a force she couldn’t resist. 

“Rex,” she murmured, her voice breaking.

And then he kissed her.  

****

The moment their lips met, the world around them seemed to disappear. The snow fell softly, the cold air biting at their cheeks, but neither of them felt it. (Y/n)’s hands found his chest, gripping his coat as though afraid the moment might shatter if she let go.  

Rex’s arms came around her, steady and strong, holding her like she was something precious. His lips were warm against hers, unhurried, reverent, as though he were trying to memorize the way she tasted, the way she felt in his arms.  

Time slowed, stretched, and then ceased to exist altogether. (Y/n)’s heart soared, her chest filled with something so overwhelming it left her breathless. The kiss was tender, soft at first, then deepened just enough to send warmth sparking through her veins.  

When they finally broke apart, their breaths mingling in the cold air, Rex didn’t step back. He stayed close, his forehead resting gently against hers as snowflakes clung to his hair and lashes. 

(Y/n) opened her eyes slowly, her pulse still pounding as she looked up at him. He smiled softly, his hands lingering at her waist as though he couldn’t bear to let her go.  

“I meant what I said,” Rex whispered, his voice low, his breath warm against her lips. “I want to see where this goes.”

(Y/n) stared at him, her chest aching with the weight of everything she felt. She knew the risks—she’d told herself over and over that she couldn’t afford to feel this way. And yet, in this moment, with Rex holding her like she was the most important thing in the galaxy, she couldn’t deny it anymore.

“Me too,” she whispered, her voice breaking as a tear slipped down her cheek.  

Rex smiled again, his thumb brushing the tear away gently. “Then we’ll figure it out. Together.”

(Y/n) smiled through the tears, her heart full in a way it hadn’t been in years. As the snow continued to fall around them, blanketing the world in quiet, shimmering beauty, they stood there—two souls pulled together by something neither of them had planned, but both of them had longed for.  

And for the first time, (Y/n) felt it in her bones. 

*She wasn’t alone anymore.*  

The snow fell in soft, soundless flurries, the world cloaked in silver and quiet. Rex walked beside (Y/n), their shoulders brushing as they moved through the palace corridors, the gentle hum of candle flames flickering in the sconces overhead. The glow turned the walls gold, but it was nothing compared to the warmth (Y/n) still felt in her chest.

The kiss lingered—he lingered—in every part of her. His touch still ghosted over her skin, and the softness in his gaze when he’d pulled away played over and over in her mind like the faintest echo of a song she didn’t want to forget. For the first time in years, she felt untethered—alive, like the world had cracked open just to let her breathe.

And yet, as they walked, that familiar doubt whispered to her. What are you doing? The voice, cruel and persistent, tugged at the edges of her hope. She shouldn’t let herself feel this way. Rex was a prince—a man born into a life far beyond hers—and here she was, daring to imagine she mattered to him.

But when she glanced at him, at the way he looked at her as if there was no one else in the galaxy, the whispers quieted just enough to let her believe.

They reached her room, and (Y/n) slowed to a stop, her heart thudding steadily in her chest. Rex turned to face her, his expression soft in the candlelight, his usual easy charm replaced by something quieter. Something real.

“This is you,” he said softly, though he made no move to leave.

(Y/n) nodded faintly, her hand resting on the door handle, though she didn’t open it. She couldn’t—not yet. The silence between them stretched, heavy and alive, as though it had something to say.

Rex’s eyes searched hers, his voice dropping to a murmur. “I meant everything I said earlier.”

(Y/n) swallowed, her throat tight. “I know.”

He stepped closer then, not too much, just enough for her to feel the pull between them—subtle, magnetic, impossible to deny. “I don’t know what’s going to happen after the ball,” Rex continued, his voice rough but steady. “But I know how I feel about you, (Y/n). And I want to see where this goes.”

(Y/n)’s breath hitched as the weight of his words settled in her chest, tangling with the fragile threads of hope she’d been too afraid to grasp.

“Me too,” she whispered, barely able to admit it out loud.

Rex’s lips curved into a small smile, one so tender it made her heart ache. Slowly, he leaned down, brushing his lips against hers. The kiss was soft—softer even than the first—just a lingering connection that seemed to speak what neither of them could say.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against hers, their breaths mingling in the cold air. “Goodnight, (Y/n),” he murmured, his voice like a promise.

“Goodnight, Rex,” she whispered, the words trembling as she tried to hold back the rush of emotions threatening to spill over.

And then he was gone, his footsteps fading into the silence of the corridor.

(Y/n) stood there for a moment, her hand pressed against the door, her heart still pounding, her mind a blur. She felt herself smile softly, one hand drifting to touch the silver winter rose necklace he’d given her earlier.

Maybe… maybe this time was different.

****

The knock at (Y/n)’s door came just as she had settled into the quiet. She froze mid-step, her hand brushing the silver necklace at her throat. For a heartbeat, hope flickered—Rex, she thought, her chest leaping in spite of herself. But then her heart dropped like stone when the knock came again, sharper this time.

Slowly, (Y/n) moved to open the door, bracing herself for whoever it was. And there stood Lady Mara—draped in a heavy cloak of deep velvet, her sharp eyes glinting like shards of black ice in the candlelight. The older woman held herself with regal poise, but there was something predatory in the way she regarded (Y/n), her lips curved faintly in a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Good evening, Miss (Y/L/N),” Mara said smoothly, her voice like silk drawn across a blade. “I trust I’m not disturbing you?”

(Y/n) blinked, instinct urging her to close the door, but her manners held her still. “No. Of course not. How can I help you?”

Mara tilted her head, her gaze sweeping the room behind (Y/n) as though cataloging every imperfection. “May I come in?”

(Y/n) hesitated, but something in Mara’s tone made refusal impossible. “Yes… of course.”

Mara stepped inside, her movements deliberate, as though she were staking claim to the room itself. (Y/n) closed the door quietly and turned to face her, forcing herself to meet Mara’s sharp gaze head-on.

“I wanted to speak to you privately,” Mara began, clasping her gloved hands in front of her. “About what I saw tonight.”

(Y/n)’s stomach twisted. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t play coy, Miss (Y/L/N),” Mara replied, her voice dipping lower, colder. “I saw you. And Rex. Walking through the halls like you belong here. Kissing him as if you have any right to.”

(Y/n)’s breath caught, her cheeks flushing as though she’d been slapped. “That’s none of your concern.”

Mara raised a brow, her lips curving into a cruel smile. “Isn’t it? You are here to do a job, are you not? To secure a match for the crown prince, not distract his younger brother with… foolish notions.”

(Y/n) swallowed hard, trying to keep her voice steady despite the tremor in her chest. “I have not forgotten why I’m here.”

“Oh, but you have,” Mara said, her words soft but laced with venom. She stepped closer, her eyes locking onto (Y/n)’s like a hunter cornering prey. “You think Rex’s attention means something. That you mean something to him.”

(Y/n)’s throat tightened, her pulse pounding painfully in her ears. “I never said that.”

“You don’t need to,” Mara snapped, her tone sharpening. “I see it in your face. In the way you look at him. You’re not the first woman to fall for a prince’s easy smile and empty words, and you won’t be the last. You’re convenient, Miss (Y/L/N). That’s all.”

(Y/n) flinched, her hands curling into fists at her sides. “That’s not true.”

Mara’s smile widened, merciless now. “Isn’t it? A prince flirts with you, walks you through the snow, kisses you, and suddenly you think you’re special. That you have a place here. Tell me, do you truly believe that Rex—Prince Rex—would choose you over anyone else? Over someone of equal station, with real worth to his family?”

(Y/n) recoiled as though she’d been struck, her chest aching as Mara’s words dug in like needles beneath her skin.

“I—he’s not like that,” (Y/n) stammered, but her voice faltered, fragile and weak.

“Of course he is,” Mara said smoothly, her gaze cutting. “He is a prince, born to privilege and power. Do you honestly believe you’re anything more than a pleasant diversion for him? A fleeting amusement before the ball ends and your carriage takes you far away from here?”

(Y/n)’s vision blurred with tears, but she refused to let them fall. “You don’t know him. You don’t know us.”

Mara’s face hardened, her voice dropping to an icy whisper. “You poor, naïve girl. There is no us. There never was. Rex will marry someone suited to his role. Someone worthy of his name. And you? You’ll be forgotten as soon as you leave.”

The words twisted like knives in (Y/n)’s chest, each syllable tearing through the fragile hope she’d let herself hold. “Why are you doing this?” she whispered, her voice breaking.

“Because it is the truth,” Mara said, her expression unyielding. “You don’t belong here, Miss (Y/L/N). This world, this palace, these men—you’re nothing more than a shadow passing through their lives. You will do your job. You will secure a match for Cody. And then you will leave. That is your place.”

(Y/n)’s breath trembled as she stood there, frozen in place. The silver necklace Rex had given her felt heavier now, the charm cold against her skin, like a cruel reminder of everything Mara had just said.

Mara turned toward the door, her cloak sweeping behind her like the wing of a raven. She paused, just before stepping out, and glanced back over her shoulder.

“One last piece of advice, Miss (Y/L/N),” she said, her tone almost gentle now, though it dripped with poison. “Don’t speak to Rex again. Spare yourself the humiliation of realizing you were nothing more than a momentary distraction. If you care for him at all, you’ll leave quietly before you become a stain on his name.”

The door closed behind her with a soft, deliberate click, leaving (Y/n) alone in the silence.

***

(Y/n) sat on the edge of her bed, the room spinning around her in cruel, slow motion. Her hands trembled in her lap, the silver winter rose necklace hanging limply from her fingers like a lifeline that had already snapped. She stared at it—at the delicate charm Rex had given her, its petals etched so carefully, so lovingly—and felt as though it were mocking her.  

*Convenient.*  

*Amusing himself.*  

Lady Mara’s words echoed through her head, each syllable a strike of a hammer against the fragile glass of her heart. Her chest felt hollow, emptied of all the warmth she’d let herself feel over these last few weeks. It had been so real—*he* had been so real—but now she saw it for what it was.  

A lie.  

(Y/n)’s vision blurred as tears threatened to spill again, but she fought them. She didn’t deserve to cry. She had been foolish, *stupid*, to let herself believe that someone like Rex—a prince, a man who could have anyone—would care about her.  

Because no one ever really had.  

***

She rose shakily to her feet, her arms wrapping tightly around herself as she paced the small confines of her room. Her thoughts tangled and twisted, clawing at the walls she’d built around her heart so long ago—walls Rex had torn down with nothing more than soft words and that damnable smile of his.  

She had spent her life keeping people at arm’s length. It was safer that way.  

Back on Coruscant, she had been the quiet girl—the invisible one. Always on the outside looking in, always careful to never let anyone close. She’d learned early on that people would use her, *hurt* her, if she gave them the chance. They would smile to her face, take what they wanted, and then leave her behind as if she had been nothing but dust in the wind.  

She’d been bullied as a child, mocked for being too shy, too plain, too different. Then, as she grew older, the cruelty had changed, but it hadn’t softened. People had found new ways to wound her—empty promises, sharp laughter behind her back, friendships that had been nothing more than tools for their own gain.  

So she’d built her walls. She’d told herself she didn’t need anyone. That it was better to watch from the outside than to risk being broken again.  

And then **Rex** came.  

She let out a strangled sob, her hand covering her mouth as tears began to slip down her cheeks, hot and bitter.  

*Why him? Why now?*  

He had walked into her life with that easy smile, that infuriating charm, and that quiet way of seeing straight through her. He’d dismantled every defense she’d so carefully constructed—brick by brick—without her even realizing it. And before she knew it, she’d let him in. She’d *trusted* him.  

She had let herself believe that he cared.  

And that was her mistake.  

(Y/n) sank to her knees on the cold floor, her sobs escaping unchecked now, the sound small and broken in the dark room. Her tears blurred her vision as she clutched the necklace tighter, the chain biting into her skin.  

*How could you be so stupid?* she berated herself, the words reverberating in her skull like a cruel chant.  

How could she have let him kiss her, hold her, whisper things that made her feel like she mattered?  

How could she have been so blind, so naïve, to think she could ever be enough for someone like him?  

*You’re a distraction. That’s all.*  

The truth of it gutted her. She had always been the girl no one noticed, the one who was easy to forget. Why would Rex—charming, handsome, a prince—see her as anything more than an amusement to pass the time?  

The thought of him—his voice, his laughter, his lips against hers—sent a new wave of pain tearing through her chest.  

(Y/n) pressed a hand to her heart, as though she could physically hold it together, but it was no use. It had already shattered. 

***

The room around her was suffocating, the fire in the hearth nothing more than a weak ember now. She could feel the chill creeping through the stones, but it was nothing compared to the cold sinking into her bones.  

“Never again,” she whispered hoarsely to the empty room, her voice shaking. “I’ll never let anyone in again.”  

She had broken her own rule—*the rule she had lived by for years.* She had let herself care. She had let herself hope. And now, she was left with nothing but the wreckage of her own foolishness.  

She curled into herself on the floor, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees as the tears kept falling. Each breath was a struggle, like shards of glass were lodged in her chest, and no matter how hard she tried to hold herself together, the pieces of her heart kept slipping through her fingers.  

Rex had made her feel seen—*special.* But now, every glance, every word, every kiss replayed in her mind like a cruel joke, twisting the knife deeper.  

It was a betrayal she couldn’t bear.  

The man who had broken down her walls had left her more vulnerable than she had ever been before. And now she was here—something she swore she’d never let herself be again: **a heartbroken woman.** 

***

The hours dragged on, and (Y/n) finally forced herself back into bed, though sleep refused to come. She lay there in the dark, staring at the ceiling, her chest hollow and aching.  

She couldn’t leave—not yet. Her duty still held her here, the weight of her job pressing down on her shoulders like iron chains. She wouldn’t abandon her work.  

But as soon as the ball was over, she would be gone. She would leave this palace, this planet, and Rex—**Rex**—behind her. 

And she would never look back.  

(Y/n) squeezed her eyes shut, tears slipping silently onto the pillow as she clutched the silver necklace one last time.  

*Never again,* she thought bitterly, the words echoing in her soul. *Never again.*  

And as the snow fell softly outside her window, blanketing the world in pure, untouched white, (Y/n) cried herself into an exhausted, broken sleep—her dreams filled with the ghost of a man she had dared to let herself love.

***

The morning light filtered weakly through the heavy drapes of (Y/n)'s room, casting faint golden streaks across the floor. The fire had long gone cold in the hearth, leaving the air sharp with the chill of winter. (Y/n) sat at the small writing desk near her window, papers spread out in a chaotic mess before her. Notes, names, and profiles of every noblewoman who had come to meet Cody were scribbled and annotated with desperate precision.

Her red-rimmed eyes traced the words mechanically, her quill scratching softly against parchment as she double-checked the ball arrangements for the fifth time that morning. Tea with Cody was scheduled for mid-afternoon, but it was more out of duty than any real expectation. He doesn’t want to marry any of them, she thought bitterly, staring down at the empty box beside the name of the supposed “front-runner.”

The realization sat like a stone in her stomach, pressing down on her heart. For the first time, she thought with a sting of shame, I’ve failed.

The words felt damning, as though they’d been written across her soul for all to see. She had failed Cody, failed Jaster, and worst of all, she’d failed herself. The woman who had arrived here weeks ago—confident, composed, untouched by emotion—was gone, replaced by someone hollow and fragile.

Her reflection in the mirror beside the desk caught her eye. Her cheeks were pale, her skin splotched from a night of crying, her eyes shadowed and weary. She looked nothing like the woman Rex had kissed under the falling snow only hours ago.

Rex.

His name alone sent a fresh ache through her chest, and (Y/n) gripped the edge of the desk to steady herself, her knuckles white. The kiss, the warmth of his touch, the quiet way he’d said he cared—it had all felt so real. And then Mara’s words had cut through it like shards of glass, leaving her bleeding in the wreckage of her own foolish hope.

You were a distraction. That’s all.

A knock at the door broke through the silence, startling her. (Y/n) straightened instinctively, wiping at her cheeks with trembling hands before calling out, “Come in.”

A palace attendant entered, carrying a small box wrapped in deep blue ribbon. “This just arrived for you, miss.”

(Y/n)’s brow furrowed as she took the box with hesitation, nodding her thanks before the attendant bowed and quietly exited the room. She stared at the box for a moment before carefully untying the ribbon, her breath catching when she saw what lay inside.

A small, folded letter.

Her hands trembled as she picked it up, unfolding it slowly. The handwriting was familiar—Rex’s, bold and slightly untidy, as though he’d written it in a hurry.

***

(Y/n),

I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, but I do know I want you there—at the ball, by my side. Not as a matchmaker. As my guest. I want you to see what you’ve come to mean to me, even if I haven’t said it right. Be my guest tomorrow evening. Please.

—Rex

***

(Y/n)’s breath hitched as she read the words, her vision blurring. For a moment, her heart betrayed her, fluttering weakly against the walls she was trying so desperately to rebuild.

But then anger—raw and sharp—swallowed the ache.

Is this another game? Another fleeting whim? Her mind hissed bitterly. Hadn’t she been through enough already?

With shaking hands, (Y/n) crumpled the letter into a tight ball, her tears stinging as they spilled fresh and hot down her cheeks. “No,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Not again.”

She stood abruptly, wiping at her face with her sleeve, her movements jerky and frantic as she forced herself to push the emotions back. She couldn’t do this. She wouldn’t let him fool her again.

Duty first. Focus on what you can control

***

The crackle of the fire was the only sound in Cody’s office, a rhythmic pop that filled the heavy quiet like the ticking of a clock. Outside, snow drifted down in slow spirals, clinging to the tall windows and blanketing the palace in an untouched stillness. But the peace of the world outside didn’t touch Cody’s mind. He sat at his desk, one hand cradling a steaming cup of tea that he hadn’t taken a sip of in over ten minutes. His gaze was fixed somewhere distant, lost in the memory of last night.

The moment Rex had barged into his chambers, grinning like a fool, out of breath and flushed from the cold, was burned into his thoughts. Cody could still see his younger brother as if he were standing before him now—his tunic rumpled, his hair a golden mess of windblown strands, and the look on his face…

It was unlike anything Cody had ever seen.

Rex had stumbled into the room without knocking, a rare break in decorum even for him. Cody had been sitting at his own writing desk, reviewing reports from neighboring systems, but one glance at his brother and he knew—something had happened.

“Have you been drinking?” Cody had asked dryly, though he already knew the answer was no.

Rex had laughed at that, a boyish, breathless laugh that came from deep in his chest. He paced the room, his boots thudding against the stone floor, his smile refusing to leave his face. He had the air of a man who’d been struck by something wonderful and entirely unexpected—a man in love.

“No,” Rex had said, still grinning. “But I feel like I have.”

Cody had leaned back in his chair, setting the reports aside. “Do I even want to ask?”

“You should,” Rex replied, his voice warm and full of something Cody couldn’t quite place—joy, maybe. “Because you’re not going to believe this, Cod. I don’t believe it, and it happened to me.”

Cody had arched a brow, his curiosity piqued despite himself. Rex was many things—confident, charming, and altogether too reckless for his own good—but this was different. He seemed… undone. Cody had rarely seen his brother so animated, so unable to sit still.

“Sit down before you wear a hole in the carpet,” Cody had said, trying to keep his tone light.

Rex had ignored him completely, planting his hands on the back of one of the chairs as he turned to face Cody. The grin on his face had softened slightly, his voice quieting as though speaking the truth aloud might shatter something delicate.

“I kissed her,” he said, his words slow and deliberate, as though they carried a weight he’d never expected.

The confession hung in the air, and for a moment, Cody could only blink at him. “(Y/n)?”

“Yes. (Y/n).”

The name had fallen from Rex’s lips like a promise, like something sacred. Cody had heard his brother speak of women before—teasing mentions, lighthearted flirtations that never carried much depth. Rex had never been one to dwell on feelings or entangle himself in anything serious. He flirted, charmed, and moved on before anyone could get too close.

But this wasn’t that.

The look in Rex’s eyes said it all. There was no jest in his voice, no bravado. For once, his brother was unguarded, and Cody could see exactly what he felt.

“How?” Cody had asked simply, though he wasn’t sure what he was really asking.

Rex had let out a soft, incredulous laugh as he sank into the chair at last, running a hand through his hair. “How? I don’t know, Cody. I don’t know how or when or why it happened, but it has. It hit me like a blaster to the chest.”

The words had surprised Cody. Rex had never been one for flowery speeches or poetic sentiments, but in that moment, his voice held something deeper—something real.

“I’ve known her for weeks,” Rex continued, leaning forward, his elbows braced on his knees. “I’ve seen her work herself to the bone. I’ve watched her handle all of us—Cody, all of us—with this quiet strength like she’s holding the whole galaxy together on her own. And she’s…”

He paused, his voice trailing off as though searching for words that didn’t exist. When he looked up at Cody again, his expression was open and raw, stripped of every mask he’d ever worn.

“She’s incredible,” Rex finished softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I’m in love with her.”

Cody had felt the weight of those words settle over the room like snow on branches—quiet and undeniable.

“You’re serious,” Cody had said, though it wasn’t really a question.

Rex had smiled faintly, a self-deprecating curve of his lips. “I know it’s ridiculous. I know it’s too fast, and maybe I’m a damn fool for saying it out loud, but it’s the truth.” He looked up again, his stormy blue-gray eyes filled with quiet determination. “I love her, Cody. And I think… I think she feels something for me too.”

Cody had studied his brother then—really studied him. Rex was still grinning faintly, still carrying that boyish charm, but there was something deeper beneath it. A steadiness Cody hadn’t seen in him before. It wasn’t infatuation or some fleeting whim. This was different.

“You don’t do this lightly, do you?” Cody had asked, his voice softer now.

Rex shook his head. “No. Not this.” He let out a long breath, leaning back in the chair. “I don’t know what happens next. I don’t know how she feels about all of it. But I’m not going to let this slip through my fingers, Cody. Not without trying.”

Cody had nodded slowly, feeling a faint smile tug at his own lips despite himself. “So you’re taking her to the ball, then?”

Rex’s grin had returned, bright and full of hope. “Yeah. I am.”

“And what if she says no?” Cody had teased, though his words lacked any true bite.

“She won’t,” Rex had replied simply, as though he knew something Cody didn’t. “Not this time.”

***

### **The Cracks in the Foundation**  

The office door opened slowly, as if whoever was behind it was reluctant to enter. Cody looked up from his desk, his thoughts scattering as his sharp gaze landed on (Y/n). At first, he noticed only her poise—her usual straight back, her controlled step—but it took mere seconds for him to see through the mask.  

Her hands were clasped tightly in front of her, fingers digging into her palms as though she could anchor herself through pain alone. The faint redness around her eyes, the pallor in her skin, and the way she didn’t quite look at him made his stomach drop. This wasn’t the (Y/n) he had come to know over the past weeks.  

“(Y/n),” he said, his voice soft but deliberate as he rose to his feet. “Sit.”  

She hesitated, lingering near the door like an outsider in her own life. For a moment, Cody thought she might refuse, but then she moved forward. Each step seemed heavier than the last, her skirts barely brushing the floor as though even that small motion was too much effort. She lowered herself into the chair across from his desk with mechanical precision, keeping her head bowed.  

Cody watched her for a long moment, waiting, his instincts prickling. Something was deeply wrong. Rex’s words echoed in his mind from the night before, words spoken with such certainty, such quiet joy. 

“She’s the one, Cody. I don’t know how, but she is. I feel it in my bones. I don’t want to imagine a world where she’s not there.” 

And yet the woman sitting before him now—her hands trembling in her lap, her shoulders curled in on themselves—wasn’t the woman Rex had described.  

Cody sat back down, his voice carefully measured. “What happened?”  

(Y/n) stiffened, her head snapping up for the first time, though her gaze didn’t quite meet his. “Nothing,” she said, the word clipped and rehearsed.  

“That’s not true.”  

“It doesn’t matter,” she replied immediately, as though the words were her only shield.  

“It matters to me,” Cody pressed, leaning forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees. “You look like someone who hasn’t slept, hasn’t eaten, and hasn’t stopped crying since yesterday. That’s not nothing, (Y/n).”  

“I’m fine,” she shot back quickly, her voice cracking on the last syllable.  

Cody narrowed his gaze, frustration flickering in his chest. He wasn’t a man who pried unnecessarily, but this wasn’t something he could leave untouched. Not when his brother had come to him the night before with eyes full of love and the kind of hope Cody had rarely seen in him. 

“My brother loves you,” he said plainly, testing her reaction.  

The words struck her like a slap. She flinched visibly, her breath catching sharply in her throat. “Don’t,” she whispered hoarsely, her eyes finally darting to meet his for a fleeting second before she looked away again.  

“Don’t what?” Cody asked, his voice low but unyielding. “Don’t mention Rex?”  

Her lip trembled faintly, and for the first time, he saw the tears gathering again in her eyes. “Please,” she whispered. “I don’t want to talk about him.”  

Cody exhaled slowly, his brow furrowed as he tried to piece together what was happening. “You don’t want to talk about him,” he repeated carefully, his tone soft but insistent. “Why? What happened between you?”  

“Nothing happened,” she said quickly, the words spilling out as if rehearsed, but the way her voice wavered told him otherwise. 

“(Y/n),” Cody said, his voice firm but kind. “Rex came to me last night. He told me about you. He told me what you meant to him. That he loves you. I’ve never seen him so sure of anything—so certain. And now you’re sitting here looking like you’re ready to break apart. Did he… did he say something to you? Did he do something?”  

The tears that had been threatening finally spilled over, sliding down her cheeks as she shook her head fiercely. “No,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “He didn’t say anything. He didn’t do anything.” 

“Then what?” Cody pressed, his voice softening again as he leaned closer. “(Y/n), I need you to tell me what’s happened. Because this—” He gestured at her faintly, taking in the tears, the hollow look in her eyes. “This isn’t you. And it’s not Rex either.”  

(Y/n) sucked in a shaky breath, her hands still trembling as she pressed them tightly against her knees. She looked up at him then, her tear-streaked face raw with pain. “I’m nothing to him, Cody,” she choked out. “I was just… convenient. That’s what I was told. A distraction. Nothing more.”  

Cody froze, his expression darkening as the weight of her words sank in. “Who told you that?”  

“It doesn’t matter,” (Y/n) said, her voice breaking as she looked away again. “They’re right. I was stupid to believe it could be anything more.”  

Cody’s jaw tightened, a flare of anger rising beneath his calm exterior. “(Y/n),” he said quietly, but there was an edge to his voice now. “Who told you that? Because I can tell you now—it’s a lie.”  

“It’s not a lie!” she cried suddenly, her voice sharp and broken all at once. She looked at him with eyes full of anguish, her tears falling unchecked. “Don’t you understand? It’s always like this. Every time I let someone in, I get hurt. I’ve seen it before. People like me don’t… don’t get chosen. Not for real.”  

Cody’s heart ached at her words, at the bitterness and brokenness she carried like a scar across her soul. “You’re wrong,” he said softly, his voice steady despite the tightness in his chest. “You’re wrong, (Y/n). And whoever told you that—they were wrong too.”  

She shook her head, the tears still falling. “You don’t understand—”  

“No, *you* don’t understand,” Cody cut her off, his tone quiet but resolute. “I know my brother. Rex isn’t playing games. He’s not pretending. He’s not the kind of man who says he loves someone unless he means it with everything he is.”  

(Y/n) stared at him, stunned into silence, her breath hitching.  

“I’ve seen how he looks at you,” Cody continued, his voice softening as he leaned back. “The way he talks about you. You’ve changed him, (Y/n), in ways he didn’t think were possible. And he’s not going to let you go. Not unless you push him away.”  

(Y/n) blinked rapidly, the tears streaking her face as she tried to process his words. “I can’t,” she whispered finally. “I can’t let myself believe that.”  

“Why not?” Cody asked softly.  

“Because if I’m wrong,” she whispered, her voice breaking, “it will destroy me.”  

The silence that followed was heavy, almost suffocating. Cody watched her for a long moment, his heart twisting at the sight of her pain. “You’re not wrong,” he said quietly. “But if you let this lie take root—if you let it steal this from you—you’ll regret it.”  

(Y/n) swallowed hard, rising abruptly to her feet. “I need to go,” she whispered, her voice hollow as she turned toward the door. 

“(Y/n),” Cody called after her, his voice calm but firm. 

She paused with her hand on the knob, her shoulders trembling.  

“Don’t let someone else’s cruelty decide what’s real for you,” he said softly. “Rex loves you. And deep down, you know it too.” 

(Y/n) stood frozen for a long moment, but she didn’t turn back. She slipped out of the room quietly, closing the door behind her. 

Cody exhaled slowly, the silence pressing heavily around him as he stared at the empty chair she had left behind. Whoever had poisoned her mind with those words—whoever had broken her faith in Rex, and in herself—would answer for it.  

And Cody would see to it that they did.  

****

The door to Cody’s office clicked shut behind (Y/n), the sound far louder in the suffocating silence she left in her wake. Cody remained still for a long moment, staring at the empty chair where she had sat, her trembling hands folded in her lap, her face streaked with silent tears.  

He had been calm, steady, as he always was, but now… now the mask was slipping. His fingers drummed absently against the arm of his chair as his thoughts churned, piecing together the puzzle of what had just happened. **Whoever had told (Y/n) those lies had succeeded in breaking her—and Rex—without either of them knowing it.**  

A quiet, sharp breath left him, one hand curling into a fist against the desk. *Who would do this?* (Y/n) hadn’t told him directly, but Cody wasn’t an idiot. He’d grown up in a palace full of whispers, a place where secrets were weapons, and doubt could tear a person apart from the inside. Someone had said the exact words (Y/n) feared most—had struck at her deepest insecurities and watched the damage unfold.  

And worse, Rex didn’t even know.  

With determination hardening in his chest, Cody rose to his feet. He moved with purpose now, his usual controlled calm edged with simmering frustration. **No one**—not in this palace, not anywhere—had the right to break his brother’s heart like this. And whoever had sunk their claws into (Y/n)’s mind was about to face consequences.  

But first, he needed to tell Rex.  

---  

Cody found his brother in the west wing, in one of the palace’s many large, sunlit galleries. The windows stretched from the polished marble floors to the ceiling, framed with dark wood and frosted from the cold outside. Beneath them, Rex stood, hands shoved into the pockets of his dark trousers, staring out at the snowy landscape beyond.  

He looked… different. The lighthearted man who had joked and teased so often had been replaced by someone quieter, more still. Cody didn’t need to see his face to know something was wrong. There was a weight to the way Rex stood, as though he were bracing himself against something he couldn’t quite name.  

Cody paused for just a second before stepping forward. “Rex.”  

Rex turned slightly, his profile coming into view. The faint smile he wore was automatic—habit, not genuine—and it vanished as quickly as it appeared when he saw Cody’s expression.  

“Cody.” Rex straightened, his brows pulling together in concern as he stepped away from the window. “What is it? What’s wrong?”  

Cody didn’t answer immediately. He studied his brother for a moment, noting the faint tension in his shoulders, the unspoken questions in his gaze. Rex was good at hiding his emotions, at masking them with humor and charm, but now… now he looked like a man who had been on edge for hours, though he didn’t yet know why.  

“It’s (Y/n),” Cody said finally, his voice quiet but firm.  

At her name, Rex’s face changed. His eyes widened just slightly, and that faint tension in his shoulders shifted into something sharper—something like worry. “What about her?”  

Cody exhaled slowly, choosing his words carefully. “I spoke with her just now.”  

Rex’s lips parted faintly as if to ask a question, but he said nothing. He just watched Cody, waiting, his gaze full of apprehension.  

“She’s hurt,” Cody continued. “I don’t mean tired or overwhelmed—I mean *hurt*. Something’s been said to her, something cruel. And it’s broken her, Rex.”  

Rex’s entire demeanor shifted at those words. His hands dropped from his pockets, fingers twitching faintly as though he wanted to grab hold of something—**anything**—to steady himself. “What do you mean?”  

“I mean someone told her she was nothing to you,” Cody said evenly. “That she’s just a distraction. That none of this—whatever is between you—meant anything.”  

Rex’s face froze. For a moment, he simply stood there, staring at Cody as though he couldn’t comprehend the words. Then, slowly, something dark flickered across his expression. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his breath audibly sharp as it left him.  

“They told her *what*?” Rex’s voice was low, a near growl, edged with disbelief and fury.  

Cody held his gaze, his own anger rising to match his brother’s. “You heard me. She believes it, Rex. She sat in my office crying, convinced that you don’t care about her. That she’s meaningless to you.” 

Rex took a step back, shaking his head as though trying to clear it. “No,” he said hoarsely. “No, that’s not—how could she think that?”  

“Because someone made her,” Cody replied, his voice cold now. “Someone said exactly what she’s always been afraid to hear. Whoever it was knew where to strike, Rex, and they did it perfectly.”  

Rex turned abruptly, running both hands through his hair, pacing a few steps like a caged animal. His breathing was uneven now, his movements full of restless, chaotic energy. “But I—” He stopped, spinning back to face Cody. “I *told* her. I told her how I felt. I told her I love her.” 

“She doesn’t believe you,” Cody said quietly, watching his brother’s devastation unfold. “Not now. Not after this.”  

Rex stared at him, his chest rising and falling heavily as his fists flexed and unclenched at his sides. “Who?” he demanded, his voice low, rough. “Who said it?”  

“I don’t know yet,” Cody admitted, his brow furrowing. “She wouldn’t tell me. But whoever it was, they hit their mark.”  

Rex let out a sharp, bitter laugh, though it was entirely without humor. He turned away again, bracing his hands against the window ledge as he stared out into the snow. “She won’t even look at me,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter now, as though speaking the words was painful. “I knew something was wrong this morning—I could feel it—but I didn’t know…” He broke off, his shoulders shaking faintly as he gripped the edge of the ledge.  

Cody took a step forward, his voice steady. “She’s hurting, Rex. And it’s because someone fed her a lie she was already afraid of believing. If you’re going to fix this, you’re going to have to show her that it’s not true. She’s not going to come to you—not like this.”  

Rex turned back to face him, and for a moment, Cody saw it all—the heartbreak, the confusion, the anger. “How?” Rex whispered hoarsely. “How do I show her when she won’t let me in?”  

“You start by not giving up,” Cody replied, his voice calm but unyielding. “You don’t let her go. You don’t let *them* win.” 

Rex exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down his face as he absorbed his brother’s words. When he looked up again, there was something different in his expression—resolve, raw and unrelenting. “I’m not giving up on her,” he said softly, but there was steel in his tone. “I don’t care what anyone said to her. I don’t care who it was. I’ll prove them wrong. I’ll prove it to her.”  

Cody nodded faintly, satisfied by the certainty in Rex’s voice. “Good,” he said quietly. “Because if anyone deserves that fight, it’s her.”  

Rex didn’t respond immediately. He turned back toward the window, his gaze fixed on the falling snow beyond the glass. “I love her, Cody,” he said again, the words raw with emotion. “I can’t lose her like this. Not over a lie.”  

“Then don’t,” Cody replied simply.  

The silence that followed was heavy, but this time, it was full of something else—determination.  

As Rex stood staring into the frozen landscape, Cody turned slightly, his expression darkening as thoughts swirled through his mind. Someone in the palace had done this—someone who knew exactly what to say to wound (Y/n) so deeply. And Cody was going to figure out who. 

For now, though, he watched as his brother straightened, shoulders squared, the weight of his resolve solidifying into something almost tangible. Rex wasn’t a man to give up—not on something real. Not on *her.*  

And Cody knew, whoever was responsible for this would soon find themselves on the wrong side of both of them.

****

The library was quiet, so still it felt as though the air itself refused to move. Rex pushed open the heavy wooden door, his chest tight as he stepped inside. The soft glow of the fire in the corner hearth barely lit the expansive room, the dark wooden shelves and towering bookcases casting long shadows across the walls. It was a forgotten space, one of the palace’s many hidden corners, and yet it felt heavy with something he couldn’t explain—something unspoken, unresolved.

And then he saw her.  

(Y/n) sat on the window seat at the far end of the room, her figure outlined by the faint glow of the snow-covered gardens outside. Her knees were drawn up to her chest, her arms wrapped around them, and her forehead rested lightly against the frosted glass. She didn’t move as he entered, didn’t flinch or even glance his way.  

But Rex felt the weight of her presence as though it were pulling him under.  

For a moment, he simply stood there, his breath caught in his chest. The sight of her—so still, so small—hit him harder than he expected. (Y/n) wasn’t supposed to look like this. She was supposed to be strong, composed, the woman who had taken the palace by storm with her quiet confidence and sharp mind. But now she looked… *broken*.  

“(Y/n),” he said softly, his voice low but steady as it broke the silence.  

She didn’t respond. Her shoulders tensed slightly, but she didn’t turn to face him.  

Rex swallowed hard, his throat tight as he took a hesitant step forward. “I’ve been looking for you,” he added, his voice catching on the words.  

“You shouldn’t have,” she murmured, her voice faint and hoarse, as though it had been scraped raw by tears.  

Her words stopped him in his tracks. Rex clenched his jaw, his hands curling into fists at his sides as he fought to steady himself. “Why not?” he asked quietly, his tone laced with both hurt and frustration. “Why shouldn’t I look for you?”  

(Y/n) finally shifted, her head lifting slightly from the window, though she still didn’t turn to face him. “Because it doesn’t matter,” she said, her voice flat but trembling at the edges. “None of it does.” 

Rex stared at her, his chest tightening further. The hollow way she spoke, the lifelessness in her tone—it wasn’t her. It wasn’t the (Y/n) he knew.  

“It does matter,” he said firmly, taking another step closer. “You matter. To me, (Y/n). You always have.”  

She let out a sharp, bitter laugh, the sound cutting through the stillness of the room. It was a sound Rex had never heard from her before, and it sent a chill down his spine.  

“Don’t say that,” she whispered, shaking her head as her arms tightened around her knees. “Don’t make this harder than it already is.”  

Rex’s heart clenched painfully at her words, and he took another step forward, his movements slow and deliberate. “Harder?” he repeated, his voice soft but strained. “(Y/n), I don’t understand. What’s happened? What’s changed?”  

She finally turned slightly, just enough for him to see her face in profile. Her cheeks were streaked with fresh tears, her lips trembling as she tried—and failed—to steady herself. “What’s changed?” she echoed, her voice breaking. “Everything, Rex. Everything has changed.” 

He shook his head, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “No, it hasn’t,” he said, his voice firm. “Nothing has changed—not for me. I told you how I feel, (Y/n). I told you I love you, and I meant every word.” 

At that, she turned fully, her tear-filled eyes meeting his. Her gaze was sharp, almost angry, but behind it was something deeper—something fragile, aching.  

“Then why does it feel like I’ve been played for a fool?” she said, her voice trembling but cutting. “Why does it feel like everything I believed was a lie?”  

Rex froze, the weight of her words hitting him like a blow to the chest. “What are you talking about?” he asked, his voice quiet, almost disbelieving.  

She shook her head again, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Mara was right,” she whispered, her voice so faint it was barely audible.  

“Mara?” Rex repeated, his stomach sinking as the name left her lips. His hands clenched at his sides, his frustration threatening to boil over. “What did she tell you, (Y/n)?”  

“It doesn’t matter,” she said, her tone sharper now, though her tears continued to fall. “Because she’s right, Rex. I should have known better. I should have known this wasn’t real.”  

“(Y/n),” Rex said, his voice rising slightly, a desperate edge creeping into his tone. “What did she say to you? Tell me.”  

She hesitated, her lips parting as though she wanted to speak, but then she shook her head and turned away from him again, her shoulders trembling. “She said I was nothing to you,” she whispered finally, her voice breaking. “That I was just a distraction. A passing amusement. And she was right.”  

Rex felt the words like a punch to the gut. His jaw tightened, his hands flexing as he fought to keep himself from shouting. “No,” he said firmly, stepping closer. “No, she wasn’t. (Y/n), she lied to you.” 

“Did she?” (Y/n) snapped, turning back to him with a fiery, tear-streaked glare. “Because it all makes sense, Rex. You’re a prince, and I’m…” Her voice broke again, and she looked away, her hands trembling as she swiped at her tears. “I’m no one.”  

“You’re not no one,” Rex said fiercely, his voice low and full of conviction. He stepped closer, his hands outstretched as though to reach for her, but he stopped himself, afraid she might pull further away. “You’re *everything* to me, (Y/n). You’ve been everything since the moment you walked into this palace.”  

Her breath hitched, her lip trembling as she shook her head. “I can’t believe that,” she whispered, her voice cracking. 

“Why not?” Rex demanded, his voice softer now, pleading. “Why can’t you believe it? You know how I feel. I’ve shown you. I’ve told you. What else can I do to prove it to you?”  

(Y/n) didn’t answer. Her tears fell silently now, her chest rising and falling unevenly as she turned back to the window, her arms wrapping around herself tightly.  

“(Y/n),” Rex said again, his voice trembling with emotion as he took another step forward. “Please don’t do this. Don’t let her—don’t let *Mara*—take this from us.”  

“It was never ours to take,” (Y/n) said softly, her voice hollow.  

Rex froze, his chest heaving as he stared at her, his desperation mounting. “You don’t believe that,” he said quietly, his voice breaking. “You *can’t* believe that.”  

(Y/n) turned back to him slowly, her gaze full of sorrow, of something final. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.  

And with that, she stepped past him, her skirts brushing against his leg as she walked toward the door.  

“(Y/n),” Rex called after her, his voice trembling. 

She paused in the doorway, her hand resting on the frame. For a moment, he thought she might turn back, might give him one last chance to fix what had been broken. But then she stepped through, her tears glinting faintly in the firelight as they rolled down her cheeks. 

Rex stood frozen, staring at the empty doorway long after she was gone, his chest tight with the weight of everything unsaid. For the first time, he felt powerless—powerless to stop her, powerless to fix what Mara had shattered.  

And as the fire crackled faintly behind him, Rex knew that this wasn’t the end. It couldn’t be. He wouldn’t let it be.  

***

The palace was a frenzy of last-minute preparations, the hum of activity filling its grand halls like a symphony of barely controlled chaos. Servants bustled to and fro, their hurried footsteps echoing against the polished marble floors. Crystal chandeliers had been polished to a brilliant gleam, casting a soft glow across the ballroom’s ornate decorations. The air was rich with the scent of fresh flowers, their delicate arrangements lining the tables and mantles. Outside, snow continued to fall in soft, silent waves, adding to the magical atmosphere that had been weeks in the making.

But (Y/n) felt none of it.

She moved through the ballroom with a quiet efficiency, her clipboard clasped tightly in her hands. Her dress was simple, her hair pulled back in a low twist—functional rather than festive. She wasn’t there to dazzle or impress. She was there to ensure everything went according to plan. The seating arrangements, the music cues, the placement of the desserts—all of it had her careful, practiced touch. If she kept busy, she could push the ache in her chest aside, bury it beneath a mountain of logistics and perfection.

At least, that was what she told herself.

“Miss (Y/L/N),” a voice called from across the room. (Y/n) looked up to see a steward approaching, his expression polite but slightly harried. “The musicians have asked if you’ll approve the final set list.”

“Of course,” (Y/n) said, nodding briskly. She took the sheet he offered and scanned it with a practiced eye, noting the order of the pieces. She nodded again, her tone steady. “This is perfect. Thank you.”

The steward inclined his head and hurried off, leaving (Y/n) to her thoughts once more. She glanced around the ballroom, her gaze flicking over the glittering chandeliers, the golden accents on the walls, the polished floor that would soon be filled with dancers. It was beautiful. Perfect, even.

And she wanted nothing more than to leave.

The weight of the last few days pressed heavily on her, a knot of tension and sadness coiled deep in her chest. She had heard the whispers that morning—whispers of Mara’s banishment. It seemed that, after years of tormenting her brother’s family, her scheming had finally caught up with her. She had lost her title, her privilege, her place. She was gone, banished from the planet with a severity that spoke to the gravity of her actions.

But the knowledge brought (Y/n) no relief.

She had spent too many sleepless nights replaying Mara’s words, the venom that had dripped from her tone. Even knowing the truth, even knowing that Mara had been cast out, the scars left by her cruelty remained. The doubts Mara had sown still lingered, their whispers far louder than any reassurances (Y/n) could muster.

****

The morning light streamed through the tall arched windows of the palace as (Y/n) sat in one of the side parlors, her clipboard laid forgotten on the table before her. She’d been staring at the seating chart for the ball for what felt like an eternity, the lines and names blurring together. She’d meticulously checked it three times already, but her heart wasn’t in it. Not today. Not after everything.

The door creaked softly, and (Y/n) instinctively straightened, schooling her expression into polite efficiency. She expected a steward, perhaps a musician with yet another last-minute adjustment. Instead, Cody walked in, his usual air of authority softened by the weight he carried behind his steady gaze.

“(Y/n),” he said, his tone quieter than usual as he approached.

“Your Highness,” she said quickly, standing, her professional mask snapping back into place. “Is there something you need? The ball—”

“Stop,” Cody said gently, holding up a hand. “Please, sit.”

(Y/n) hesitated, her grip on the chair tightening. “I’m quite busy, Your Highness. There’s still so much to—”

“(Y/n),” Cody said again, firmer this time. He pulled out the chair across from her and sank into it, folding his arms across his chest as he studied her carefully. “Please.”

She sighed softly and obeyed, though she kept her back straight, hands folded neatly in her lap. She didn’t trust herself to meet his gaze for long, not after the way this week had crumbled around her.  

For a moment, Cody said nothing. He just watched her, his sharp eyes taking in the faint shadows under her eyes, the slight tremble in her fingers where they gripped the edge of her skirt. Finally, he spoke, his voice softer than she’d ever heard it.  

“I’m not going to marry anyone tonight.”  

(Y/n)’s head shot up, her eyes wide as she stared at him in disbelief. “What?”  

Cody leaned back slightly, his brow furrowed as though he had already anticipated her reaction. “You heard me. I’m not choosing anyone, (Y/n).”  

Her throat felt tight as she searched for the right words. “But… but the ball—the introductions—everything. You said…”  

“I know what I said,” Cody interrupted, though his voice remained calm. “And I know how hard you’ve worked to make this happen. But I owe you the truth.” He hesitated for a moment, his gaze softening. “None of the women I met feel right to me. Not one of them.”  

(Y/n) swallowed hard, her chest aching with the realization. **Another failure.**  

“I see,” she said quietly, looking down at the table to avoid his gaze. “Then I’ve wasted your time. And everyone else’s.”  

“Stop that,” Cody said immediately, his voice sharpening just enough to make her look at him again. “You didn’t waste anyone’s time. Least of all mine.”  

“Your Highness—”  

“(Y/n),” he interrupted, his tone softening again. “Listen to me.” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table as he held her gaze with an intensity she hadn’t expected. “I won’t marry someone because it’s convenient. I won’t marry because it’s expected of me. I’ll marry for love, or not at all.”  

(Y/n) blinked at him, stunned into silence.  

“I know that’s not what people wanted to hear,” Cody continued, his voice thoughtful. “I know what’s at stake—believe me, I do. But I’ve seen what a loveless life can do to a person. I refuse to be that kind of king. And I won’t be that kind of man.”  

(Y/n) shifted uncomfortably, her fingers fiddling with the edge of her sleeve. “And what about the ball tonight?”  

“I’ll go,” Cody said simply. “I’ll dance with the woman I liked most out of respect for everything you’ve done. But that’s all it will be—*a dance.* Nothing more.”  

(Y/n)’s chest tightened again, and she looked away, staring at the window where snow fell softly beyond the glass. “So that’s it, then,” she said quietly. “Everything I worked for… it doesn’t matter.” 

“It matters,” Cody said firmly, and she felt his gaze settle on her again. “You brought people together, (Y/n). You’ve done more for this palace in a few weeks than anyone’s done in years. And more than that, you’ve reminded us of what matters most.”  

(Y/n) let out a soft, bitter laugh, shaking her head as she stared at the snow. “And what’s that?”  

“Love,” Cody said simply.  

The word made her stomach twist, and she flinched slightly. “Love,” she repeated, her voice faint, almost hollow.  

“Yes.” Cody paused, letting the word settle before continuing. “Which brings me to Rex.”  

(Y/n) froze, her breath catching as her gaze shot back to him. “What about him?”  

Cody’s expression softened again, though there was a deep seriousness in his eyes. “I know what happened,” he said quietly. “And I know Mara had a hand in it.”  

(Y/n)’s throat tightened, the familiar sting of tears threatening her composure. “It doesn’t matter,” she said quickly, her voice trembling. “It’s done.”  

“No, it’s not,” Cody countered, his tone gentle but firm. “Because my brother loves you, (Y/n). I’ve seen it with my own eyes.” 

Her breath hitched at his words, and she looked down, unable to hold his gaze.  

“You think you’re not enough,” Cody said softly, his voice cutting through her defenses like a blade. “That’s what Mara told you, isn’t it? That you don’t belong here. That you were just some passing amusement to Rex.”  

(Y/n)’s hands curled into fists in her lap, her shoulders trembling slightly.  

“But that’s a lie,” Cody continued, his voice unwavering. “Rex hasn’t been the same since the day you walked into this palace. He’s happier, stronger, more alive. You did that, (Y/n). You.”  

She looked up then, tears shimmering in her eyes as she shook her head faintly. “I can’t—”  

“You can,” Cody said softly. “And if you don’t believe him, believe me. Rex doesn’t give his heart lightly. When he told me he loved you, I believed him, because I’ve never seen him care about anyone the way he cares about you.”  

(Y/n)’s heart pounded painfully in her chest, and for a moment, the walls she had so carefully rebuilt felt as though they might crumble. “He… he said that to you?”  

Cody nodded, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yes, he did. He said he’d never felt this way about anyone before.” He paused, letting the words sink in. “If you walk away from this, (Y/n), you’re not just hurting him—you’re hurting yourself. Don’t let Mara’s lies steal what’s real.”  

(Y/n) stared at him, tears spilling down her cheeks now despite her best efforts to hold them back. She shook her head slowly, her voice barely a whisper. “I don’t know if I can.”  

Cody smiled faintly, his gaze kind. “You can,” he said simply. “Because love like this? It’s worth fighting for.”  

(Y/n) looked away again, blinking back her tears as his words echoed in her mind. For the first time in days, the smallest flicker of hope stirred within her—a hope she wasn’t ready to name just yet.  

Cody stood, pausing at the door as he glanced back at her. “Think about it, (Y/n),” he said gently. “And when you see Rex tonight, really look at him. You’ll see the truth.”  

And then he was gone, leaving her alone with her thoughts, her doubts, and the faintest, most fragile spark of belief.  

***

The ornate doors to the king’s private study loomed tall and imposing as (Y/n) approached. Her steps were slow, hesitant, as if each stride brought her closer to something she wasn’t ready to face. The ball preparations had been left behind—forgotten, unimportant. Her conversation with Cody echoed in her mind, each word pulling apart the carefully constructed walls she had spent days rebuilding. *“Rex doesn’t give his heart lightly… He loves you, (Y/n). You did that.”*  

She wanted to believe him. For the smallest moment, she *had* believed him. But doubt clung to her, wrapping itself around her heart like thorns.  

When she reached the study doors, she paused, inhaling sharply as though to steel herself. The guards standing to either side gave her a small nod, their presence silent but acknowledging. One reached for the door, opening it with a soft creak.  

“Miss (Y/L/N),” the guard announced respectfully. 

Jaster looked up from where he stood by the wide window, his hands clasped firmly behind his back. Snow fell softly outside, blanketing the grounds in untouched white, but it didn’t soften the lines of grief and quiet anger etched into the king’s face. At the sight of her, his stern expression melted into something warmer, though his sharp gaze remained unyielding.  

“(Y/n),” Jaster said, his deep voice resonating through the quiet room. “Come in.”  

(Y/n) hesitated for only a moment before stepping inside. The door closed behind her with a heavy finality that sent a flicker of unease through her chest.  

“Your Majesty,” she said softly, dipping her head respectfully.  

“Sit,” Jaster said, motioning to the chair in front of his desk. “Please.”  

She obeyed, her movements quiet and precise as she lowered herself into the seat. Jaster turned back to the window for a long moment, his broad frame casting a dark silhouette against the pale light outside. When he finally turned to face her, his expression was measured but full of something she couldn’t quite place—resolve, maybe, or something gentler beneath it.  

“I hear you’ve had a difficult few days,” he began, his voice low but pointed.  

(Y/n) blinked, startled by the directness of his tone. “I—”  

“I know what happened,” Jaster interrupted, raising a hand to stop her. “I know about Mara.”  

(Y/n) flinched slightly at the name, her gaze falling to her lap as her fingers twisted together tightly. “Your Majesty, it doesn’t matter—”  

“It matters *very much,*” Jaster said firmly, his voice cutting through her protest like steel. He moved toward his desk, the weight of his presence filling the room as he stopped just in front of her. “Mara is gone, (Y/n). I threw her out myself this morning.”  

(Y/n)’s head snapped up, her eyes widening in shock. “Gone?”  

“Banished,” Jaster said, his tone cold and unrelenting. “Stripped of her title, her privileges, and her influence. She will never step foot on this planet again.”  

(Y/n)’s breath caught in her chest as the full meaning of his words sank in. Mara, the woman who had spent years undermining the royal family, had finally been cast out.  

“You… banished her?” she whispered, her voice trembling.  

Jaster’s eyes softened slightly as he looked at her. “She’s tormented this family long enough—Rex, Cody, all of my grandsons. I tolerated her cruelty for too long because of blood, because I thought I owed her something.” His voice hardened. “But when she turned that venom on you—on someone who brought light and purpose back into this palace—I had no choice. She sealed her fate the moment she tried to destroy you.”  

(Y/n) swallowed hard, tears stinging at the corners of her eyes. She looked away, shaking her head slightly. “She didn’t destroy me,” she murmured, though the words felt hollow even to her own ears.  

Jaster was quiet for a long moment, studying her carefully. “Didn’t she?” he asked softly.  

(Y/n) looked up sharply, her chest tightening at the weight of his question.  

“Because it seems to me,” Jaster continued, his voice gentler now, “that she struck at your deepest fears and made you believe them. She took something beautiful—something real—and made you doubt it.”  

(Y/n) opened her mouth to argue, to deny it, but no words came.  

“Do you know what I saw the other night?” Jaster asked suddenly, his gaze locking onto hers.  

(Y/n) frowned, confused. “What?”  

“I saw you and Rex in the gardens,” he said simply, his voice steady. “I saw the way he looked at you, the way you looked at him. That kind of love doesn’t come often, (Y/n). And when it does, it’s not something you can turn away from—not unless you let fear win.”  

(Y/n)’s heart skipped painfully in her chest. “It’s not that simple,” she said softly, her voice cracking. “You don’t understand—” 

“I understand more than you think,” Jaster interrupted gently. “I’ve watched my grandsons grow up without their father. I’ve watched them lose so much and still carry on. But what I saw between you and Rex was something I haven’t seen in this family for years. *Hope.*”  

(Y/n)’s breath hitched, her fingers trembling in her lap. “I don’t know if I can believe that,” she whispered.  

Jaster sighed, his gaze filled with a quiet kind of sorrow. “Then let me help you see it. Rex isn’t a man who loves lightly, (Y/n). He’s stubborn, reckless, and infuriating at times, yes—but when he loves, he loves with everything he has. I’ve seen it in him.”  

(Y/n) blinked quickly, trying to fight back the tears threatening to fall. “Your Majesty—”  

“Don’t throw this away because of Mara,” Jaster said, his voice firm but kind. “Don’t let her win.”  

(Y/n) stared at him, her chest rising and falling unevenly as the emotions she’d buried for days clawed their way to the surface. “I don’t know if I can fix it,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.  

“You don’t have to fix it alone,” Jaster replied. “Rex will fight for you—he already is. But you have to meet him halfway, (Y/n).” 

The tears finally spilled over, trailing down her cheeks silently as she looked away. She had fought so hard to keep herself together, to convince herself that walking away was the right thing to do. But Jaster’s words chipped away at the walls she had so carefully rebuilt, leaving her feeling raw and exposed.  

“You’re stronger than you think,” Jaster said softly. “And you deserve to be loved, (Y/n). Don’t let anyone make you believe otherwise.” 

(Y/n) inhaled sharply, wiping at her tears with the back of her hand. “I… I don’t know,” she whispered.  

“Think about what you *do* know,” Jaster said gently, placing a warm, reassuring hand on her shoulder. “You know Rex cares for you. You know the way he looks at you isn’t a lie. And you know, deep down, that what you feel for him is real, too.”  

(Y/n)’s heart twisted painfully at his words, the truth of them settling over her like a weight. She nodded faintly, though she couldn’t bring herself to speak.  

Jaster straightened, his expression calm and resolute. “The ball is tonight, (Y/n). Go. Face him. Let him remind you of the truth.” 

(Y/n) swallowed hard, her tears drying on her cheeks as she looked up at him. There was something in his gaze—something steady, unwavering—that gave her the faintest flicker of strength.  

“I’ll think about it,” she whispered finally.  

Jaster smiled faintly, though his eyes remained serious. “Good,” he said simply. “Because love like this doesn’t come twice, (Y/n). And I would hate to see you let it go.”  

(Y/n) rose from the chair on unsteady legs, nodding softly as she made her way toward the door. Her thoughts swirled like a storm, but for the first time, a quiet voice broke through the chaos.  

*What if he’s right? What if Rex really does love me?*  

And for the first time in days, (Y/n) allowed herself to hope.  

***

The hallway stretched endlessly before (Y/n) as she made her way back to her chambers, the soft echo of her footsteps the only sound in the otherwise silent corridor. The snow outside had darkened as the late afternoon wore on, casting pale gray shadows across the stone floor through the tall, arched windows. The palace, for all its grandeur, felt like a maze she couldn’t escape, every turn and every corner reminding her of where she was—and who she was not.  

Jaster’s words still lingered in her mind, their truth pressing against the walls she’d so carefully built around herself. *“Rex loves you. I’ve seen it. Don’t let Mara win.”* She clutched those words tightly, even as doubt clawed at her resolve.  

(Y/n) wrapped her arms around herself as she walked, the tension in her chest a constant weight she couldn’t shake. She was caught somewhere between hope and fear, the two warring for control of her heart. *What if they’re right? What if Rex really does care for me?*  

Lost in her thoughts, she nearly missed the figure standing at the far end of the hallway.  

She froze mid-step as her gaze landed on him—**Wolffe.**  

The eldest son of Mara, Wolffe was tall and imposing, his presence alone enough to make anyone hesitate. He leaned casually against the stone wall near an alcove, his arms folded across his chest. A shaft of soft, fading light from the window caught the scar that slashed over one eye, giving him an almost predatory air.  

For a long moment, they simply stared at each other. (Y/n)’s heart hammered painfully in her chest, a surge of unease rising before she could stop it. This was Mara’s son. The very thought sent a jolt of fear through her veins, her earlier conversation with Jaster suddenly echoing in her mind. *Banished.* Mara was gone, but had she left behind a shadow in her son?  

Wolffe pushed off the wall and took a slow step forward, his boots heavy against the marble. (Y/n) tensed instinctively, her spine straightening as her hands gripped the folds of her skirt. She forced herself not to look away, though her pulse raced wildly.  

“Miss (Y/L/N),” Wolffe said quietly, his voice gruff but oddly measured, like a man searching for words.  

(Y/n) swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. “Wolffe.”  

He stopped a few paces away, studying her carefully. His scarred face, so often a mask of indifference, was softer than she’d ever seen it. For a moment, the hallway seemed impossibly still, as though the palace itself were holding its breath.  

“I think I owe you an apology,” he said finally, his tone gruff but sincere.  

(Y/n) blinked, stunned into silence. “An… apology?” 

Wolffe nodded, though he looked away briefly, as though gathering himself. “For my mother,” he said simply, his voice low. “For everything she’s done to you. To Rex. To this family.”  

(Y/n)’s shoulders relaxed slightly, though her heart still beat too quickly. “It wasn’t your doing,” she said softly, unsure of how to respond.  

“No,” Wolffe agreed, his gaze meeting hers again. “But I didn’t stop it either. I stood by for too long.” He paused, his scarred brow furrowing as though the admission pained him. “I should’ve known she would take things this far. She’s been bitter for years, clawing at what she thought was her due.”  

(Y/n) frowned, her voice quieter now. “And what about you? Do you share her… ambitions?”  

Wolffe let out a humorless laugh, though there was no anger behind it—only regret. “No,” he said firmly. “I’ve never wanted the throne. I never wanted her games or her schemes, either. All I ever wanted was to be free of it.”  

(Y/n) watched him carefully, the tension in her chest easing a little more as she studied the sincerity etched into his face. Wolffe wasn’t his mother—at least, not in this moment.  

“Then why are you here?” she asked softly, though the question wasn’t sharp, only curious.  

Wolffe hesitated, his arms falling to his sides as he took another step closer. “Because of Rex,” he admitted. “And because of you.”  

Her breath caught slightly, and she looked at him, her brow furrowing. “Me?”  

“I saw it,” Wolffe said simply, his voice low but steady. “The way you looked at each other. I saw the way Rex smiled when he talked about you—and that’s not something you see often with him. I watched him change these last few weeks. He was happy, *really happy,* and it was because of you.”  

(Y/n)’s chest tightened, her breath hitching as Wolffe’s words cut through her defenses. “And yet your mother ruined it,” she whispered bitterly, the truth stinging even as she said it.  

Wolffe’s expression darkened briefly, shame flickering in his stormy gaze. “She did,” he admitted. “And I hate that. I hate that she twisted your fears against you, that she poisoned something so genuine.” He paused, his voice softening. “You have to know she lied, (Y/n).”  

(Y/n)’s eyes burned, and she looked away quickly, unable to hold his gaze. “I don’t know what to believe anymore,” she admitted, her voice breaking slightly.  

“Believe what you felt,” Wolffe said quietly. “What you *know* is real. My mother couldn’t stand to see Rex happy—she couldn’t stand to see any of us happy. But that’s on her, not on you.”  

(Y/n) blinked quickly, tears welling up despite her best efforts to hold them back. She turned to look at him again, her voice trembling. “Why are you telling me this?”  

Wolffe’s lips twitched faintly into the ghost of a smile, though it was tinged with sadness. “Because Rex deserves to be happy,” he said simply. “And so do you. And if I can do one good thing to undo the damage my mother caused, it’s this. Fixing this—fixing what she tried to break.” 

(Y/n) swallowed hard, her heart aching at the sincerity in his words. For a moment, she simply stared at him, unsure of how to respond.  

“I don’t know if I can,” she whispered finally, her voice barely audible.  

“You can,” Wolffe said firmly, his gaze unwavering. “Because I saw the way you looked at him too. Don’t let my mother win, (Y/n). Don’t let her take this from you.”  

(Y/n)’s tears slipped down her cheeks silently, and she nodded faintly, though the weight of it all still pressed heavily on her. “I’ll… think about it,” she said quietly.  

Wolffe offered a small, approving nod, though his expression remained serious. “Good. That’s all I ask.”  

He turned then, his movements slow and deliberate as he stepped past her, pausing briefly when he reached the hallway’s corner. “For what it’s worth,” he added softly, “I’m rooting for you two.”  

And with that, he disappeared down the corridor, leaving (Y/n) standing alone in the silence.  

She brought a trembling hand to her chest, her heartbeat pounding beneath her palm. *What if they’re right? What if this isn’t broken beyond repair?*  

For the first time, (Y/n) allowed herself to imagine it: the possibility that she and Rex could be something real, something unshakable. The thought terrified her, but somewhere beneath the fear, something fragile began to bloom.  

*Hope.*  

***

Yoda’s words from earlier that afternoon lingered in her mind, his quiet wisdom echoing in her thoughts like a steady drumbeat. She had been halfway to her chambers when she had felt his presence, his small figure waiting just outside her door. His eyes, ancient and full of knowing, had seemed to peer straight into her heart.

“Miss (Y/L/N),” he’d greeted, his voice soft but firm. “May I speak with you?”

She hadn’t known how to refuse him, and so she’d stepped aside, allowing him to follow her into her chambers. There, he’d stood quietly, his small hands clasped before him as he spoke words that had unraveled something deep within her.

“The winter rose, you remember?” Yoda had asked, his tone light but purposeful.

She had nodded, her throat too tight to speak.

“Grows in the harshest cold, it does. Blooms not because the world is kind, but because it is strong enough to endure.” His gaze had softened, his tone gentler now. “Love is like this, hmm? Not easy, no. But real it is, and worth fighting for.”

(Y/n) had looked away, her chest aching. “It’s not that simple,” she had whispered, the words barely audible.

“Simple, no,” Yoda had agreed, his ears twitching slightly. “But true, it is. Rex—his feelings, they are true. In his eyes, I see it. In his heart, I feel it. You must see it too.”

The tears she had fought so hard to hold back had slipped free then, rolling silently down her cheeks. “I don’t know if I can trust it,” she had admitted, her voice trembling. “What if I’m wrong?”

Yoda had stepped closer, his gaze steady. “The rose does not ask if the sun will rise, nor if the snow will fall. It simply blooms. Trust your heart, you must. Stronger than fear, love always is.”

****

The grand ballroom was alive with light and sound, a stunning blend of opulence and festivity. The chandeliers sparkled like captured stars, their crystal prisms casting delicate rainbows across the gilded walls. The crowd moved in a swirling sea of color, men in sharp formal attire and women draped in gowns that shimmered like flowing water or soft moonlight. The strains of violins filled the air, their melody weaving effortlessly with the gentle hum of conversation and laughter.

(Y/n) lingered at the edge of the room, her hand gripping a champagne flute that she hadn’t taken a single sip from. Her eyes scanned the room, catching glimpses of Cody and his brothers as they moved through the crowd. Cody was engaged in polite conversation with one of the noblewomen she had introduced him to weeks ago. He appeared composed, as always, but (Y/n) could see the slight stiffness in his posture, the way his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. He was here, fulfilling his duty, but his heart wasn’t in it.

She tore her gaze away, exhaling softly. The weight of the evening pressed heavily on her shoulders, mingling with the nerves that had been building since her conversations earlier that day. Jaster’s words still echoed in her mind, strong and deliberate, reminding her of the love she’d felt growing between herself and Rex. And Yoda’s quiet wisdom, gentle but unwavering, urged her to trust what was real, to trust herself.

But the doubt lingered. It always did.

(Y/n) smoothed the folds of her gown, the rich red fabric soft beneath her fingertips. The dress had been a last-minute choice, pulled from the wardrobe in her room after her assistant insisted she look her best for the evening. The strapless design left her shoulders bare, the bodice hugging her frame before falling into elegant folds at her waist. Her hair had been swept up into a neat bun, silver pins glinting faintly as they caught the light. She had tried her best to mask the shadows beneath her eyes with a touch of makeup, but she still felt the weight of the last two days etched into her face.

As the room around her bustled with life, (Y/n) remained on the outskirts, unwilling to throw herself into the crowd. She didn’t want to dance, didn’t want to smile or laugh or pretend. She wanted to blend into the walls, to become invisible, if only for a while.

“Miss (Y/L/N),” a voice called softly, breaking through her thoughts.

She turned, startled, to find Fives standing a few steps away, his usual smirk tempered with something softer. He was dressed sharply, his black suit and navy sash accentuating his roguish charm. But his sharp eyes held a hint of concern as they met hers.

“You’ve been standing here for nearly twenty minutes,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “What’s the matter? Lost your nerve?”

(Y/n) forced a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m just observing,” she said lightly, gesturing toward the crowd with her champagne flute.

Fives crossed his arms, clearly unimpressed by her answer. “Observing,” he repeated. “Sure. That’s why you’re hiding by the pillar.”

(Y/n)’s cheeks flushed faintly, and she turned her gaze back to the crowd. “I’m not hiding,” she insisted, though the words rang hollow even to her own ears.

Fives tilted his head, studying her for a moment before stepping closer. “You don’t have to do this alone, you know,” he said quietly, his teasing tone replaced with something more genuine. “Whatever it is you’re carrying around tonight—there are people here who care about you. People who would drop everything to help you if you’d just let them.”

(Y/n)’s chest tightened at his words, her fingers curling around the stem of her flute. She wanted to argue, to push him away, but the sincerity in his voice caught her off guard.

“I’m fine,” she said softly, her voice trembling slightly. “Really.”

Fives frowned, clearly unconvinced, but he didn’t press further. Instead, he gave her a small, knowing smile. “Well, if you change your mind, I’ll be around,” he said lightly. “Probably dragging Echo into some kind of trouble. You know where to find me.”

With that, he turned and disappeared into the crowd, leaving (Y/n) alone once more. She exhaled shakily, her gaze falling to the untouched champagne in her hand. The small interaction had left her feeling raw, as though Fives had seen through every layer she’d carefully constructed to protect herself.

She turned away from the crowd, slipping through the side of the ballroom toward one of the alcoves that lined the outer edge. The alcove was quiet, its marble bench bathed in the soft glow of the chandelier above. She sank onto the bench, setting her flute down on the small table beside her. For a moment, she simply sat there, her hands folded tightly in her lap as she tried to steady her breathing.

The sound of laughter drifted from the ballroom, light and carefree, a stark contrast to the turmoil swirling within her. (Y/n) closed her eyes, letting the melody of the violins wash over her, though it did little to calm the storm in her chest.

*What am I doing here?* she thought bitterly.  

She should have left days ago. She had come to this palace with a purpose, a clear goal—to find Cody a bride. And she had failed. Worse, she had allowed herself to feel something she never should have felt, to hope for something she had no right to hope for.

Her chest ached as she thought of Rex, his voice soft but steady as he had confessed his feelings to her. *“You mean everything to me.”* The memory of those words sent a fresh wave of pain through her, mingled with a flicker of something she refused to name.

“(Y/n),” she whispered to herself, her voice trembling. “Get it together.”

But the ache didn’t fade.  

As she sat there, lost in her thoughts, the faint sound of footsteps approached from behind her. She stiffened, her heart racing as she turned to see who it was, but the figure disappeared before coming into view. Her nerves felt stretched thin, her emotions fraying with every passing moment.

*“Trust your heart,”* Yoda’s voice echoed in her mind. *“Stronger than fear, love always is.”*

(Y/n)’s hands trembled in her lap as she forced herself to take a deep breath. For the first time in days, she allowed herself to truly think about what she wanted—not what was expected of her, not what her fears told her, but what she *truly wanted.*

Her gaze drifted back toward the ballroom, the soft glow of the chandeliers beckoning her forward.  

And slowly, she stood.  

Her steps were hesitant at first, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor as she made her way back toward the heart of the ball. She wasn’t ready to face Rex—not yet. But somewhere deep inside her, a quiet voice whispered that she wasn’t ready to walk away, either. 

****

The violins swelled as Rex led (Y/n) to the center of the ballroom, their movements deliberate, unhurried. The crowd parted for them as if by unspoken agreement, a ripple of quiet curiosity spreading through the attendees. Whispers began to drift among the nobility, the swirling silks and sharp suits slowing as all eyes turned toward the couple stepping onto the polished dance floor.

(Y/n)’s heart pounded, her hand trembling slightly in Rex’s firm but gentle grasp. His other hand rested lightly against her waist, the warmth of his touch grounding her even as her mind swirled with emotions she couldn’t yet name. She lifted her gaze hesitantly, her eyes locking with his, and suddenly, everything else faded away.

The music began softly, the lilting melody carrying them into a gentle sway. Rex’s movements were fluid and confident, guiding her effortlessly across the dance floor. (Y/n) followed instinctively, her steps matching his as if they had been dancing together their whole lives.

Neither spoke. They didn’t need to.  

Rex’s gray-blue eyes held hers with a steady intensity, the vulnerability she had seen before now replaced by quiet certainty. In his gaze, (Y/n) saw everything she had been too afraid to believe: the truth of his feelings, the depth of his care, and the unwavering promise that he would stand by her no matter what.

Her chest tightened, but not with the fear or doubt that had plagued her for days. This was different. This was hope, blooming quietly in the space between them. The walls she had built around her heart, the ones Mara’s lies had tried to rebuild, began to crumble, leaving her exposed but no longer afraid.

Rex saw it too. His grip on her hand tightened slightly, not enough to pull her closer, but enough to remind her that he was there—that he wasn’t letting go. His thumb brushed lightly against her palm, a small, unspoken reassurance that everything they felt was real.

Around them, the ballroom seemed to hold its breath. The guests who had come expecting a royal announcement, a declaration of marriage from Cody, now watched in rapt silence as another story unfolded before their eyes. The disappointment that no engagement had been announced seemed to dissipate, replaced by a quiet awe at the couple gliding across the floor.  

“They’re perfect,” someone whispered, the words carrying through the still air.  

Others murmured in agreement, drawn to the unspoken connection between (Y/n) and Rex. There was no grand proclamation, no spectacle to impress the court. But there was something far more captivating: the way they looked at each other, as though the rest of the world didn’t exist.

As the music swelled, (Y/n) felt herself relax into the rhythm of the dance, her body moving instinctively with Rex’s. The weight of the last few days—the fear, the doubt, the heartache—seemed to lift, replaced by the quiet, steady beat of the song and the warmth of his gaze.

She didn’t need words to understand what he was telling her.  

*You’re enough.*  

*You’re everything.*  

*I love you.*

And in that moment, she believed him.

The song began to slow, the violins softening as the final notes drew near. (Y/n) felt Rex’s hand on her waist shift slightly, his movements guiding her to a gentle stop. The crowd watched silently, their curiosity and admiration palpable as the music faded into stillness.

Rex’s gaze never wavered, his gray-blue eyes searching hers as if to confirm what he already knew. (Y/n)’s breath caught, her heart pounding as she realized the answer he was looking for. She didn’t need to say it aloud. Her eyes, glistening with unshed tears, told him everything.  

*I love you too.*

****

The music from the ballroom spilled out into the crisp night air, muffled but still carrying the vibrant energy of the celebration. Snowflakes drifted lazily from the heavens, blanketing the balcony in a soft shimmer of white. The light from inside cast a warm glow onto the stone floor, contrasting with the cool silver of the moonlight that bathed the snowy gardens below.

Cody stood at the edge of the balcony, his hands braced against the balustrade as he gazed out at the serene winter landscape. His tailored suit was immaculate, the golden sash marking his rank as heir to the throne glinting faintly in the light. But his posture was tense, his shoulders rigid as if carrying a weight no title or crown could ease.

He had danced with a handful of the noblewomen (Y/n) had so meticulously arranged for him to meet. They had been graceful, polite, and undoubtedly qualified for the role of queen. But none of them had stirred anything within him beyond vague appreciation. None of them had ignited the quiet fire he had been carrying in his heart for years.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

The familiar voice broke through the quiet, warm and teasing with a thread of calm certainty beneath it. Cody turned, his breath catching slightly as Obi-Wan stepped onto the balcony, his presence as steady as ever.

Obi-Wan looked as composed as always, his formal attire a perfect blend of understated elegance and practicality. The deep blue of his coat brought out the rich auburn of his hair, and his piercing blue-gray eyes seemed to catch the light in a way that Cody found almost unfairly captivating.

Cody let out a quiet breath, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth despite the turmoil inside him. “It’s a little cold out here for you, isn’t it?” he asked, his tone lighter than he felt.

Obi-Wan chuckled softly, stepping closer, his boots crunching faintly against the thin layer of snow that had settled on the stone. “Perhaps,” he admitted, “but I was worried you might freeze to death out here on your own. It’s not every day the future king of an entire planet broods on a balcony during his own ball.”

Cody’s smile faltered slightly, and he turned back to the view, his hands gripping the edge of the balustrade. “I’m not brooding,” he muttered.

“Of course not,” Obi-Wan said smoothly, coming to stand beside him. “You’re simply reflecting with an air of profound melancholy.”

Cody huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “You’re impossible,” he said softly, though his voice lacked any real bite.

They stood in companionable silence for a moment, the snow continuing to fall gently around them. From the ballroom, the music shifted to something softer, more romantic, the melody carrying faintly on the wind.

“You didn’t propose to anyone,” Obi-Wan said finally, his voice even but not accusatory.

Cody exhaled slowly, his breath misting in the cold air. “No,” he admitted. “I didn’t.”

Obi-Wan’s gaze flicked to him, his expression unreadable. “Why not?”

Cody hesitated, his jaw tightening as he searched for the right words. “Because it wouldn’t have been fair,” he said quietly. “To them. To me. To you.”

The last two words slipped out before he could stop them, and he tensed, cursing himself inwardly.

Obi-Wan tilted his head slightly, studying him with that maddeningly calm expression that Cody could never quite decipher. “To me?” he repeated, his tone careful.

Cody’s hands clenched against the stone, his heart pounding. “You know why,” he said finally, his voice low.

Obi-Wan didn’t respond immediately, and the silence stretched out between them, heavy and charged. Cody could feel his pulse thundering in his ears, his usual composure unraveling under the weight of everything he had kept buried for so long.

Finally, Obi-Wan spoke, his voice quiet but firm. “Say it, Cody.”

Cody turned to him sharply, his gray eyes meeting Obi-Wan’s with a mixture of frustration and longing. “You already know,” he said, his voice trembling slightly.

“Perhaps,” Obi-Wan said gently, his gaze unwavering. “But I want to hear it from you.”

Cody let out a shaky breath, his chest tightening as the words he had held back for years fought their way to the surface. “Because I love you,” he said finally, his voice breaking slightly. “I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember. And standing in that ballroom tonight, dancing with those women… it felt wrong. Because none of them were you.”

The confession hung in the air, raw and unguarded, like a fragile thread of hope waiting to be cut. Cody looked away, his hands trembling as he braced himself for the rejection he had always feared.

But it didn’t come.

Instead, Obi-Wan stepped closer, his expression softening in a way Cody had rarely seen. “Cody,” he said quietly, his voice steady but filled with something deeper, something warmer.

Cody turned back to him, his breath catching as Obi-Wan reached out, his hand brushing lightly against Cody’s cheek.

“I’ve known for a long time,” Obi-Wan admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “And for just as long, I’ve tried to convince myself that it didn’t matter. That it couldn’t matter. But standing here now… I realize how foolish I’ve been.”

Cody’s heart ached, his throat tight as he searched Obi-Wan’s face. “Then why didn’t you say anything?” he asked, his voice trembling.

“Because I thought it was my duty to stay silent,” Obi-Wan said softly. “To let you fulfill your role without complication. But I see now that I was wrong. Love isn’t a complication—it’s a strength. And I… I love you, too.”

The words hit Cody like a wave, overwhelming and undeniable. For a moment, he couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. And then, without thinking, he closed the distance between them, his hands coming to rest gently on Obi-Wan’s waist as he leaned in.

Their lips met softly, the kiss slow and filled with years of unspoken feelings finally given voice. The cold of the night melted away, replaced by the warmth that radiated between them.

When they pulled back, their foreheads rested together, the world around them falling into a quiet stillness.

“Stay with me,” Cody whispered, his voice barely audible.

“Always,” Obi-Wan replied, a small, genuine smile curving his lips.

And for the first time in years, Cody felt truly whole, he’d see what the future would bring, but for now, this was enough. 

***

And then, as the last note of the song hung in the air, Rex leaned in.

The kiss was soft at first, a tentative brush of lips that quickly deepened into something more. The world around them seemed to disappear entirely, the murmurs of the crowd, the flicker of candlelight, even the snow falling silently beyond the windows—all of it faded into nothing. 

(Y/n) felt the kiss in her very soul. It was a promise, a reassurance, a confession all wrapped into one. The last of her worries, her doubts, her fears—they dissolved like snowflakes melting against warm skin, leaving behind only the truth.  

When they finally pulled apart, the room erupted into quiet applause, a ripple of admiration and approval spreading through the court. (Y/n) felt her cheeks flush, but she didn’t look away from Rex. His eyes held hers, a small, genuine smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered, his voice low enough that only she could hear.

(Y/n) smiled back, her heart lighter than it had been in weeks. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she murmured, her tone teasing but full of warmth.

He chuckled softly, his hand still resting lightly on her waist. “Stay with me,” he said, the words simple but filled with meaning. “Not just tonight. Stay.”

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, she felt the tears threaten to return. But this time, they weren’t tears of fear or sadness. They were tears of joy, of hope, of love.  

“I’ll stay,” she whispered, her voice steady despite the emotions swirling within her. “I’ll stay.”

The crowd, still watching, seemed to sense that something extraordinary had just taken place. The disappointment of the evening’s earlier lack of announcements faded entirely, replaced by the quiet, undeniable sense that a new chapter had begun—not just for the royal family, but for Rex and (Y/n).

As the next song began, Rex pulled her closer, his arms wrapping around her protectively as they swayed together. The world could wait. For now, there was only them.  

****

The first thing Rex noticed was the warmth.

The golden light of dawn filtered through the heavy curtains, casting soft shadows across the unfamiliar room. For a moment, he blinked groggily, his mind piecing together where he was, why the bed beneath him felt different, why the faint scent of jasmine lingered in the air.  

And then it came rushing back—*the ball, the dance, the kiss.*  

He closed his eyes briefly, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as the memories played out with perfect clarity. He remembered the way (Y/n) had looked in her red gown, how her eyes had shone with unshed tears and unspoken truths as they danced. How the world had fallen away the moment he kissed her, as if nothing else mattered but the two of them.  

He remembered escorting her to her rooms afterward, his arm around her waist, their steps slow as though they couldn’t bear to part.  

*“Stay,”* she had whispered as they reached her door, her voice so soft he had barely heard it. He had turned to her, his heart pounding, unsure if he’d heard her right.  

“I—are you sure?” he had asked, his voice filled with both hope and hesitation.  

She had nodded, her gaze steady but vulnerable, her fingers brushing lightly against his hand. *“Just to sleep,”* she had clarified, her cheeks flushed. *“I don’t want the night to end with us apart. Not again.”*  

And now, here he was, in her bed, the events of the night still fresh in his mind. He turned his head slightly, and there she was, nestled against him, her breathing slow and steady in the quiet of the room.  

Her hair was slightly tousled, the pins from the night before long discarded, and her face was soft and peaceful in sleep. She had curled into his chest sometime during the night, her arm draped across his waist as though she had instinctively sought him out.  

Rex felt his heart swell as he looked at her, a feeling so strong it almost took his breath away. He had never imagined this—this quiet, perfect moment of peace, of belonging. And yet, here it was, more real than anything he’d ever known.  

Carefully, so as not to wake her, he tightened his arm around her, pulling her just a little closer. Her warmth against him, the steady rise and fall of her chest, the faint scent of her hair—it was all so grounding, so achingly right.  

For the first time in weeks, his mind wasn’t a storm of worry or doubt. Everything felt clear, like the pieces of a puzzle finally falling into place.  

She stirred slightly, her hand curling against his chest, her brow furrowing as she slowly woke. Her eyes fluttered open, and for a brief moment, she looked disoriented, her gaze sweeping the room before settling on him.  

“Rex,” she murmured, her voice thick with sleep, her lips curving into a soft, drowsy smile.  

“Good morning,” he said quietly, his voice low and warm.  

She blinked, her cheeks flushing faintly as she registered their position, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she settled back against him, her head resting on his shoulder. “You stayed,” she whispered. 

“Of course I stayed,” he replied, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You asked me to.”  

Her smile widened slightly, and she closed her eyes again, a contented sigh escaping her lips. “Good,” she murmured. “I didn’t want to wake up alone.”  

Rex pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, his hand running soothingly up and down her back. “You won’t,” he promised. “Not ever.” 

The words hung in the air, soft but certain, and (Y/n)’s hand tightened slightly against his chest, as if holding onto the truth of them.  

They lay there in comfortable silence for a while, the sunlight growing brighter as it spilled across the room. For once, there were no interruptions, no duties pulling them apart, no fears or doubts to cloud their thoughts. There was only this—the quiet intimacy of two people who had finally found their way to each other.  

“Rex?” she said softly after a while, her voice hesitant but steady.  

“Hmm?”  

She lifted her head slightly to look at him, her eyes meeting his. “Last night… everything you said… you meant it, didn’t you?” 

He cupped her cheek gently, his thumb brushing against her skin as he looked at her with an intensity that left no room for doubt. “Every word,” he said firmly. “I love you, (Y/n). I have for weeks. And I’ll spend as long as it takes proving that to you.”  

Her breath hitched, tears glistening in her eyes as she searched his face. And then, slowly, she smiled—a smile so genuine and radiant that it made his chest tighten.  

“I believe you,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly.  

The weight of her words settled between them, not heavy but freeing, lifting the last of the shadows that had lingered in their hearts.  

Rex leaned in, his forehead resting against hers. “Good,” he murmured, his voice soft but full of promise. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”  

Neither of them did.  

For the first time in what felt like forever, (Y/n) felt at peace. And as she nestled back into Rex’s arms, she allowed herself to believe that this—*they*—were exactly where they were meant to be.  

[star-wars-writing]

Defenses

Pairing: Captain Rex x Jedi AFAB!Reader

Words: 17,202 (apologies)

Warnings: Mutual Pining. Idiots in Love. Misunderstandings (that are addressed throughout). Overprotective Rex. Innocent touches turn Not-So-Innocent...Love Confessions. "Enthusiastic" Feelings. Dirty, Sweet Talk. Brief Oral (female receiving). Brief Hand Job. Pentrative, Unprotected Sex (wrap it up folks). Creampie. Cuddling.

Summary: Under the assumption that your friend's Captain cannot stand the sight of you, you steer clear of him throughout the Life Day Celebrations. But when the diplomatic visit takes an unexpected turn, you're forced to act as bait so Anakin and Rex capture the assassin chasing after the Prince of Dondri. An accidental encounter on the final night of the mission brings clarity to certain matters for you...and reveals some of your own secrets to Rex.

Prompts: The Christmas ornament is supposedly enchanted. // Scene inspired by the image of a boat decked out in Christmas lights. // After the blizzard hits, they’re stuck together for a while, and they have to stay warm.

A/N: Hope everyone is enjoying their holidays. This gift is for the lovely @loving-the-cambridges who's also taking part of the Life Day Gift Exchange by @cloneficgiftexchange . Your little prompts are fanfic heaven for me so I hope I incorporated them to your liking, albeit with the twists I made to them. And I am so so sorry for the slight delay friend!!! Happy Reading :D

P.S. It's overdue by a year but I'm also writing this for the @clonexreaderbingo challenge (which was about a year ago).

As the festivities continue, you look to the sky and find yourself meditating on the constellations twinkling high above the laughter and dancing. You wander along the edge of the celebrations, the sound of music and enthusiastic drinking fading into the background and pushing a smile onto your features. You watch as the 501st relax with the people of Dondri, and if you didn’t know better, you would think this was another normal rotation for them. But as all things, the joy goes as quickly as it comes when you look towards one particular member of the legion and find him standing near the Prince, his eyes scanning the crowd to ensure the safety of the royal family. 

Maker, it truly was unfair how effortlessly attractive that man was. Whatever he was doing, even if he was merely lounging or standing quietly and doing nothing, he looked absolutely exquisite. And with every ounce of your being, you wished you were only physically attracted to him. But the opposite was true; the genuine dedication and care he upheld with everything that he did was what first caught your eye. Never have you met someone as tender and responsible as him. It would have been so much easier if you just found him objectively handsome, but like everything you’ve had to reevaluate recently, you knew whatever emotions stirring within you each time you are in his presence were based on more than his looks. It was such a dangerous thought process though, because for the first time since you were knighted, you genuinely debated ignoring the rules and confessing to him your feelings. He was everything you could ever want and so much more. 

Too bad he couldn’t stand the sight of you. 

It was so unfortunate, but perhaps it was for the best. Maybe if the feelings were mutual, things would have been more complicated, more so for him than for you. So much would have been at stake, the most important being his position and well-being. But a part of you secretly hoped that he, at least, tolerated working with you. And you would have thought he did, if it weren’t for the fact that he tended to leave every time you were in the same room. Each suggestion you made, he would meet with some bit of hostility, not disrespect, but just irritation at the prospect of carrying out your commands. It was horrible. 

Yet it made you want him all the more. He had a sense of honor that he upheld more than most, a trait that was rare during these times. A characteristic that made you avoid him at every chance you could so as to not make him uncomfortable. You were not his General, but you were a General, one that he would have no choice but respect publicly. It made no sense to limit his whereabouts, certainly not during a time like this. 

Which is how you found yourself walking away each time he joined your company. If you were discussing an issue or two with Anakin and he joined, you would excuse yourself, telling both men that they could handle whatever the problem was without your help. If you were playing sabbac with Fives and Kix, and he sat beside them, you would feign a headache and leave, letting them know that you would get some rest. And if you were hanging around the royal family, learning about the Life Day Celebrations on their planet and saw him walking towards you, you would let them know that you were to make rounds for the night and exit the room, not once looking back as you left him behind. Granted, it made things especially difficult since you needed to discuss much with the Prince and his sister, and he was, somehow, always around you when you were with them, but you didn’t want to accidentally offend him further. 

Whatever grudge he held against you did not need to grow simply because of your ego. 

No. It was best you watched him from afar. It had to be.

You make your way towards one particularly large tree, hiding behind it in order to look at the man without anyone noticing. Always putting his job before anything else, Rex stands firmly in his place, arms crossed in front of him and lips pouting in attention. You allow your eyes to move down his form, and silently curse yourself when you realize where your mind may be racing towards. 

“Stare any harder and he might magically appear in front of you.” You shut your eyes and drop your face forward to hide the heated flush making its way towards your cheeks. Of course he knew where you’d be standing, and who you’d be daydreaming about. 

“Shouldn’t you be talking to the Prince about his involvement in the war?” You begrudgingly hiss at him, knowing that your reaction will be adding fuel to the fire. 

“Shouldn’t you?” Anakin retorts instantly, making you wish you weren’t chosen for this mission. 

“I would, except everyone on this planet is currently into their third cup of Corellian whiskey so I highly doubt anyone will be paying attention.” You finally turn around and face Anakin, already hating the smirk on his face when he notices how flustered you are.

“Funny, that’s exactly why I’m not talking to him either.” He steps in front of you and rests his weight on the tree, throwing back a cup of maker knows what before handing it to you. 

“No, thank you.”

“You need it more than I do,” he shoves it one last time into your hands, nodding in victory when you take it and drink the rest of it down. You wince at the bitter taste but silently thank him for handing it to you. Neither of you say anything for a while, more entertained by the shenanigans of your men as they made absolute fools of themselves in front of the Dondrians. 

“You should really talk to him.” The sentiment irritates you more than it should. You know he means well, but given the circumstances, and who you were, you found the suggestion a little insensitive. 

“I’ll keep that in mind, good night.” You hand him back the cup, hand ensuring that your weapon is still on your hip before moving across the crowds. You don’t dare make eye contact with anyone, afraid they’d drag you into whatever game they were playing and force you to stay longer. 

But as you strut past your friends, something slowly pushes against the back of your mind, nagging you until you halt in your steps and study the forest. You stare across the groups of celebrations, turning around just in time to see Anakin running through his men. You push through the drunk masses, and only when you’re a few steps away from the royal family do you hear the high-pitched sound of a blaster going off. 

Without thinking much of the consequences, you sprint towards the upper table and violently shove Rex out of the way, shutting your eyes in pain when the blaster hits your side and barely misses the Prince and his sister. The joyful laughter quickly turns into panicked cries, and you look down at the two members of the family you were meant to be watching closely, praying to the maker that neither of them are injured or else this diplomatic journey would turn into a political nightmare. 

“Are you hurt?” You ask them both, sighing in relief when they pat each other down and realize that neither of them were hit. 

“Stay down,” you order the two of them, standing to your full height and igniting your lightsaber, but not before glancing to the side to make sure that Rex was unharmed. You feel your heart skip a beat when you find his eyes and see the anger swimming in them. 

“Don’t leave their side,” you tell Rex before taking off, already regretting the argument you will surely have with him when everything calms down. As if you needed to give him more reasons to dislike you. You will yourself to focus on finding the assassin, stopping in front of a group of clones to see which of them can follow you. 

“If you haven’t been drinking, follow me. The rest of you look after these people.” Five men stand to their feet at your command, already putting their helmets on to try and see where they should head. A part of you knows that you may have already lost this hunter in the crowd but you try to find him regardless, knowing that the celebrations may come to a halt and cause even more unrest with the Dondrians if you don’t at least try to find anything about him. 

You run towards the cluster of trees high on the hills, certain that it was the best vantage point where you can see everything unfolding within the crowds. But with each step you take, you feel the wound on your side burn in anger, begging you to take a moment of respite before resuming any movement. 

“You’ve been hit,” you don’t mean to snap at him, but Anakin’s remark sends you in a fit of irritation and you smack his hand away when he tries to move your robe to the side to get a better look at the bleeding gash. 

“No shit, genius.” His eyes narrow at your tone, but you know he isn’t taking any offense to your little outburst. You’re about to head to higher ground when you feel a hand grab at your arm and pull you back. 

“Enough, you and I both know we won’t find him. Not now at least. Come on.” He motions for his men to stand down, and they all look between you and him before they head down the hill first. As much as you hate to admit it, you know Anakin’s right, and you reluctantly sheath your lightsaber again before following him towards the calming throngs of people surrounding the royal family. As you bump into the soldiers, you do your best to refrain from reacting to the searing pain beating at your side, knowing that Anakin will make sure Kix doesn’t allow you to so much as breathe the wrong way. You couldn’t afford getting his attention, not when you could feel the eyes of a certain clone staring daggers into the back of your head as you paused and stood in front of him to speak with the Prince. You see him engage in a conversation with Anakin, worried at the prospect of anyone in his family getting hurt due to his recent change in political stance. 

“While I can appreciate the importance of this issue, we need to get you inside.” You turn between him and your old friend, waiting quietly until they acknowledge your suggestion before moving behind them towards the gate of the city. Making sure that each member of the inner circle is accompanied by a couple of your men, you stay back to rest your side, turning your eyes to the sky in an attempt to focus on anything but the excruciating burning beating at your skin. You’re almost distracted too when you feel a hand rest on your back while another holds your upper arm. 

“You need to go to medbay.” The calm, soothing voice of none other than the man you’ve been doing your best to avoid signals a wave of heat to course across your body, and before you can try and argue with him, you feel lightheaded, the adrenaline finally leaving your body completely with nothing but a faint memory of what had happened. You brace yourself on his shoulders, shaking your head and furrowing your eyebrows at him when you look up and see the angry grimace from before returning with a vengeance. 

“If it’s all the same to you Captain, I think it’s best I just go and rest. No need for medbay.” You try to let go of his shoulders but as soon as you take a step back, your body sways and nearly falls over. His arms brace against him, and had you been a little more present, maybe a little more mischievous, you would have asked him to buy you dinner first. But you weren’t too conscious of what was happening, so you accept the help quietly, not bothering to say anything even when Kix comes around and supports your weight as well. 

“With all due respect sir, Rex may not outrank you, but I do…when it comes to your wellbeing at least. Come on.” You miss the way he looks at Rex, and you definitely don’t notice Rex’s clenched jaw as he reluctantly lets go and makes sure you won’t fall over. And you unfortunately don’t see the look Rex gives you, guilty that you felt the need to push him out of harm’s way and take the hit instead. 

The three of you walk in silence back to the city, and when you get to base, you glance back at Rex and frown when you see how angry he is with you. Had you been more aware however, you would have realized that he was not upset with you, but at this whole situation. As soon as you enter medbay, you lay down in one of the beds, hissing in pain when your lightsaber accidentally brushes the open gash on your side. 

“Let me take this,” Rex moves to your side and attempts to grab your weapon, but you flinch at the sudden movement, eyes panicked at the prospect of not having your lightsaber with you, even though you were perfectly safe here. 

“You don’t have to, I-”

“General, don’t make this more difficult than it already is.” He sighs heavily, the reaction hurting you more than it should. Of course he thought you were a burden. He was probably supposed to be with Anakin but felt the need to remain by your side out of duty. You don’t mean to, but your hand falls back in defeat, eyes watering almost instantly at being such an inconvenience to him. If he notices the way you react to his words, he says nothing and approaches you slowly once more, as if he was walking towards a wounded, helpless animal. He says nothing as he unclips the lightsaber from your side and clasps it on his own belt. 

“Rex, I need you to leave.” Kix interrupts as he walks towards you, pointing at the door so Rex could leave. 

“Why?” You think he’s being a little defensive, but you brush the thought aside, knowing for a fact that there is no reason why the Captain of the 501st would want to stay behind just for you. 

“Because it’s my job to take her armor off and treat her, not yours. Get out!” Kix is more assertive than before, and you shut your eyes to avoid looking at either of them as they continue to talk about you. Something shifts in the air but you choose to ignore it as well, barely managing to open your eyes and gaze at Rex when he whispers in return. 

“I’ll be outside.” He looks at you as if the last thing he wishes to do is leave this room, and you’re not sure what prompts you to, but you nod in acknowledgement to let him know that you’re thankful for him, watching him exit the room, but not without looking back at you one last time. As the door slides shut behind him, Kix silently removes your armor and clothes, not bothering to say anything else as he begins cleansing the wound and suturing it. 

You’re not sure how long you’re on that bed, but when the medic lets you know that he’s almost done, you realize that you’ve been clenching your hands the entire time. Relaxing your muscles completely, you thank him and sit up, waiting until he covers your side with a bacta patch before standing fully again.

“You know, if I have to stand around one more minute and watch the two of you act like…like fucking bantha, I might just shoot myself and be done with it.” Kix says with a smirk, not caring for your passive aggressive remark as he applies the patch and pushes a little too hard on the skin to get you to be quiet. 

“You’re a medic Kix, not a therapist.” 

“Yeah well, someone’s going to have to tell you both to get your heads out of your asses…respectfully sir.” Once again, you narrow your eyes at him and shake your head, not bothering to wait until he puts the armor back on before grabbing it and walking to the closest mirror to see what he’s done. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You say in passing, irritated and confused by his choice in words. 

“Sure you don’t.” You’re about to respond when he opens the door to the room and calls for Rex to come back. Surprisingly, it takes a few seconds for Rex to come and stand beside you again, studying your features as you look at the covered wound and try to see which movements hurt and which don’t.

“The wound isn’t too deep but it is pretty large. It should heal in the next few hours, assuming you switch the bacta patch and put on a new one. In the meantime, I’d suggest you don’t partake in any serious, physical activity…unless of course you’re with-” 

“Alright, that’s enough.” You turn around quickly and snap at him, mentally patting yourself on the back when you see his smile drop instantly at the realization that he may have gone just a little too far. You quickly glance at Rex and find him confused at your outburst, but he says nothing and instead unclips the lightsaber from his belt and returns it to you. For a brief second, your fingers pass against his softly, and you feel chills run down your spine at how calloused and warm they felt against your own. 

“Thank you,” you whisper your gratitude to Kix one last time before practically sprinting out of the room, feeling the frustration rise deep within your chest when you notice Rex falling into step with you. You had hoped that he wouldn’t follow you back, mostly because you were planning on visiting the Prince to ensure that he understands not to be seen by anyone until you’ve resolved this rather problematic hiccup. 

“I’m sure there is something more worth your time Captain…you can leave if you wish.” You say assertively, praying to the Force that he reads between the lines and leaves you to your devices. 

“If it’s all the same to you General, I think it’s best I make sure you return to your quarters safely.” You expected his response, but hearing it irks you more than you initially thought and you speed up in an attempt to distract yourself. 

“While I appreciate your concern, I am of help to no one if I return to my rooms. Where’s Anakin?”

“He is with the Prince. Sir, I strongly request for you to return to your room.” Ever the Captain, he doesn’t budge once in his stance and catches up to you, going as far as taking a few more steps until he stops ahead and forces you to slow down. 

“Captain, please.”

“You'll be helpful to no one if you can’t keep up.” He crosses his arms and stares straight into your eyes, not once caring for how you could easily write him up for insubordination. 

“I need to see Anakin, I think I have a plan to catch this assassin.” You take a deep breath and relay your intentions to him, preparing yourself for an onslaught of questions and push back to the plan you have in mind. 

“How do you know it’s an assassin and not a bounty hunter?” You notice the way his body language shifts from defensive to a more curious, even docile manner. 

“No one in their right mind would come to Dondri during the Life Day Celebrations just to kidnap a member of the royal family. Also, I’m fairly certain he was aiming straight at his head.”

“And how do you plan on catching him?” He furrows his eyebrows at you, making you wish he wasn’t standing so close to you so you’re affected by every little detail you keep observing about him. Shaking the thought aside, you take advantage of his distracted mind, walking around him and continuing towards the royal palace. 

“By giving him exactly who he wants.”

“Sir, please.” He calls out to you one last time, this time with an exasperated sigh that you wish was out of care and not duty.  

“Captain, your request is noted.” You turn around one last time against your better judgement, watching closely as Rex’s pout deepens before he switches his attention to the ground. You study him then, wondering why he was suddenly so intent on your well being. It’s not as if he never showed any concern before, but there was something strange now, something you chalked up to what you did earlier. 

You almost tell him to accompany you to Anakin, but then remember what he might say when he finds out what you have in mind to catch this man. Footsteps echo in the hallway as you practically run to Anakin, and you’re glad when you find him standing alone outside the Prince’s quarters. He looks up when he hears the frantic stomps growing closer, his expression falling as soon as he realizes it’s you approaching him. 

“Wow, you should be resting. What are you doing here?” He’s half-concerned, half-surprised, the faint lines of a smile betraying how irritated he is at seeing you.

“I think I know how to catch this guy.” You straighten up, gazing at your friend until his apprehensiveness gives way to genuine interest. 

“I’m listening.” Anakin pushes away from the wall, eyes narrowing at you as he turns fully to face you. 

“I highly doubt he will want to try again in such a crowded place so he will definitely wait till the Prince is by himself.” You step closer to him, anchoring your thoughts to the best of your abilities as the pain in your side begins to return once more. 

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen.” He shakes his head strongly, frowning at whatever idea you had in store for him. 

“Listen. We will give him what he wants, or at least, what he thinks he wants.” Anakin’s gaze shoots up then, and you watch the moment his confusion turns into a deep interest and desire to solve the issue.

“Elaborate.” His jaw is tight, and you brace yourself for whatever reaction he gives when you tell him about your idea.

“He knows how important his Celebration is, and he also knows that part of it involves the King-to-be going out into the lake and offering blessings to the gods on behalf of his subjects. So, we make him think the Prince is actually going out there.” Your voice is low but even, pausing in your explanation to gauge Anakin’s reaction. 

“You’re suggesting a decoy?” His gaze is steady but you don’t budge, not wanting to give him any reason to think you are unready or reluctant to lead the mission. 

“Yes, I am.” You nod confidently, glancing behind you and biting into your cheek when you see Rex walking toward the two of you. 

“So the Prince will be safe in his quarters the whole time.”

“Yes,” you exhale through your nose, bracing yourself for the question you’re sure will be asked at any moment now.

“And who’s the lucky guy that will replace him?” He throws his hands up then, as if to say he doesn’t agree with the plan but has no choice.

“Me.” You don’t flinch as you respond immediately, shutting your eyes to calm yourself when you hear Rex’s outburst next to you. 

“No.”

“Pardon me?” You turn to face him, not bothering to control your aggressive tone as you ask him to repeat himself. Rex can tell you don’t appreciate his response, passively shaking his head and glancing between you and Anakin to try and indirectly ask your friend for help. 

“I…don’t think that’s wise.” He repeats again, and you miss the way Anakin hides his smile behind his hand.

“Don’t shoot me, but I think I agree with Rex on this one.” It’s Anakin’s turn to pitch in, his voice harder than before and making you wish you didn’t get easily rattled by such minimal details. 

“Well, good thing I outrank the both of you.” You know better than to say something so superficial, and you shrug your shoulders when Anakin replies straight away with an annoyed lilt in his voice. 

“You don’t outrank me!”

“Okay, yes but…you’re still healing. I’m all for taking risks-” You cut him off then, not appreciating the hypocrisy of his words and actions. 

“But not when it’s someone else?” Standing your ground, you meet his gaze and search his face for any sign of hesitation, knowing that he has already agreed to your suggestion when he shifts his weight and pretends to still think about it. 

“Why not me?” He asks quietly, the question meant less to argue and more to keep the peace. 

“Because I’d rather we take this guy alive. Sorry Ani, but I don’t exactly guarantee the outcome with you.” You feel bad for critiquing his tactics but you don’t back down, wanting him to know that you prepared to see this to the end. 

“Fair enough.”

“Good, you can tell the Prince our plan. Make him address the people in an hour, something along the lines of ‘he won’t be bullied out of his duty’ and then we can head down to the lake.” Stepping aside, you walk around both men while telling them what to do, wanting to deal with this hiccup as soon as possible so you can address the real reasons behind your visit to the planet. 

“Where are you going?” Anakin asks, gesturing between himself and the room behind him. 

“Get dressed. I need to look the part.”

Going back to your room, you do your best to think of the task at hand, but with every question you ask yourself, you find your thoughts shifting towards Rex. A part of you wishes he only objected because he doesn’t want to see you get hurt, but the more irrational side of your brain is convinced it’s only because he doesn’t trust your judgement. You’ve never given him any reason to doubt your abilities, so you aren’t sure why he still can’t accept your discernment. 

As you step into the room, you strip down and walk towards your case, bringing out a new pair of robes and placing them on the bed. You make your way to the refresher and freshen up, doing your best to put the discomfort in your side out of your mind. When you hear the sound of the broadcasting, you forgo switching the bacta patch and get dressed quickly, afraid Anakin will move ahead without you. You return to the Prince’s quarters in record time, hood placed over your head to shield you from any prying eyes not meant to know it’s you. Stopping in front of Anakin, you make sure there are guards posted inside and outside the royal rooms, quickly letting him know that none of the servants know the plan to avoid anyone saying anything to the wrong person. 

“You ready?” Anakin asks, leaning into your space to gauge your reaction while pretending to protect you as you walk towards the nearby lake.

“Let me get back to you on that.” You chuckle in response, pretending your attention isn’t on the annoyed Captain flanking your other side. 

“Hey, it was your idea.” Anakin straightens up once more, eyes studying the slowly growing crowds seeing you to the lake 

“It sure was.” Your answer is clipped, mostly because you can tell that Rex isn’t getting any calmer beside you. 

“I hate this.” The three words are whispered, yet the way in which Rex says them makes you wish you could ask him here and now when he was so adamant on letting you know he doesn’t agree with your decision.

“You have something on your mind Captain?”

“Yes, loads as a matter of fact.” It’s the first time Rex answers in such an abrupt, curt manner. Before, he used to offer a silent apology if he spoke out of line, but seeing his anger sizzle deeper with each step you took towards the lake makes you all the more irritable. 

“Well, don’t let me interrupt you.” You answer monotonously, not bothering to hide how vexed you feel from the constant bickering with him. 

“Hey guys, as much as I appreciate your flirting, let’s focus here. You’ll be on the boat by yourself and we won’t be anywhere near until we see someone coming towards you. If things take a turn and you find yourself in a particularly awkward position, just push this button and we’ll come to you.” The two of you face Anakin, and while Rex looks away embarrassingly, you stare at your friend, silently telling him to watch himself and not test you. 

“That won’t be necessary, I’m going with her on the boat.” The ease with which Rex replies grabs your attention right away, and it’s your turn to be at the receiving end of his sheepish expression. You wonder if he knows how uneasy he looks returning your gaze.

Or how unfairly handsome he is as he leaves no room for discussion. 

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.” He doesn’t blink once, meeting your adamance with a stubbornness you’ve never seen before. 

“Captain, if he sees you coming on the boat, he will not come.” Anakin tries to alleviate the tension but neither of you back down, wanting the other to step away first. 

“I’m not taking a chance with you. And…he won’t see me coming on the boat, not if I swim out to you and climb on.” The firmness with which he explains himself nearly makes you think there’s more to this offer than meets the eye, and you forgo proprietary to ask him what he means by not wanting to take a chance with you. 

“Captain, you’re-”

“Why do you constantly make things difficult for me?” He cuts you off then, the swift question quiets you immediately and forces you to look ahead, away from the company surrounding you. 

“I’ll take that as a yes then.” Anakin whispers and you hate how he always wants to get the final word in. You walk the rest of the way in absolute silence, your mind flickering with hope at the prospect of Rex feeling anything other than despise for you. 

“We’re here.” 

“Good luck.” Anakin snaps you out of your haze as he readies the boat, and you nod at him before stepping onto it. You undo the rope, and make your way to the front of the swaying sail, not bothering to turn around when you feel it moving softly through the water. You focus on the dark body of water ahead of you, looking up to the sky and marveling at the twinkling stars as they shine above you. Only when you hear faint scratching at the hull of the boat do you remember what you’re supposed to do. Waiting until the boat is angled ahead and away from the shore, you turn on the comm link and step forward to see where Rex is hanging on.

“Are we far enough from shore?” You ask Anakin, praying you receive an affirmative answer quickly so Rex can get out of the cold water. 

“Yes,” Anakin gives you the go-ahead, and you pull the hood of your cloak higher before turning on the lights around the boat to offer a brief distraction. 

“Permission to come on board, General?” Rex asks strenuously, and you wonder if this is his attempt at being civil.

“Granted, come up before you freeze to death.” He pulls himself up right away, and you point to the small room in the lower deck, not wanting him to be seen by anyone that may be watching you. 

“Stay low.” You whisper to him, wishing you could take your cloak off and offer it to him so he can get warmer. 

The slow rocking of the boat lulls you into a fake sense of peace, and you force yourself to remain passive to the presence of the man behind you. The lights flicker softly around you, and when you lean over to touch one of the ornaments hanging on the cords, a shooting pain coursing across your abdomen prevents you from moving so much as a muscle. 

“How’s your side?” Rex notices you wincing and almost approaches you, but you shake your head to prevent him from coming up the deck. 

“It’s fine.” You clench your fists tightly as you right yourself, not wanting to appear suspicious. It’s quiet for a few minutes before you decide to return whatever civility Rex was attempting to offer you. 

“Hmm, it’s quite beautiful out here.” Your eyes are glued to the night sky, completely missing the way Rex longingly gazes at you when he agrees. 

“Yes, it is.” A shiver runs down your spine at the low, whispered tone of his voice, and when you turn your attention towards him, you find him shaking from the cold air seeping through his armor. 

“You’re cold.” There’s an apology at the tip of your tongue, and Rex must see how bad you feel about this because he shrugs his shoulders and tells you otherwise. 

“I’ll manage.”

“You shouldn’t be here. I really don’t understand why you were adamant on coming with me.” It’s not what you want to say to Rex, far from it. But you know for a fact you can’t be straightforward and ask him why he didn’t back down and decided to join you. 

“It is my job to protect you.” Again, you’re thrown off by how soft and docile he sounds, and it takes every ounce of control in your body to not turn around and stare into his eyes as you ask him the next question. 

“Job? Is that the only reason why you’re here?”

“Y-yes. Why else would I turn down shore leave?” Had he not hesitated, you would have believed him and dropped the subject. But something about the way he becomes defensive makes you think there may be another reason he isn’t too keen on sharing. 

“What I don’t understand is why you would turn down shore leave to serve with someone you can’t stand the sight of. That’s what I don’t understand.” You know better than to bring attention to the bantha in the room, but you figure if you addressed the animosity, he might finally tell you why he isn’t your biggest fan. The last thing you expect, though, is the defensive retaliation he exudes in response. 

“Can’t stand? Who…who are you talking about?”

“Come on Captain, feigning ignorance doesn’t suit you.” You huff in frustration, not wanting to elaborate further and make this any more awkward. 

“With all due respect sir, you are not making any sense.” He chuckles then, and as beautiful as the sound is, it sets your teeth on edge. How dare he see this as a laughing matter?

“It’s obvious to anyone with a pair of eyes that you find it barely tolerable to be in the same vicinity as me. So I ask again, why did you miss out on a much deserved break to be here?” Against your better judgment, you turn around and face him, not caring for anything happening outside this moment. 

“What gave you the impression that I can’t stand you?” Rex stands up and takes a step up towards you, the smile on his face falling instantly when he realizes that you weren’t joking. You were being dead serious. And you definitely believed everything you just said to him. 

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe the fact that anytime we’re in the same room, you find it difficult to stay for more than a few minutes before leaving. Or…or how you constantly meet each one of my tactical suggestions with an unfavorable reaction. Or the fact that you treat me like a child when I’ve clearly proven myself capable of handling any tough situation with ease. Any of these ring a bell?” You’re breathing heavily, unable to look away from him even though you wish you could be anywhere else but in front of the man that has simultaneously inspired so many mixed emotions ever since he came into your life.

“I- I’m…” He hesitates, and you almost feel bad for throwing so much at him at such an inopportune time. When his frown deepens and his eyes shift to the ground, you shake your head and return to observing the lights all around the boats. You envy the little balls of light, wishing you were one of them as they continued to flicker and not give a single care to anything happening around them. 

“I am sorry…for ever making you feel all those things when they are the farthest from the truth.” His words cut through you like a long, thin needle, and you find yourself reluctantly turning around to face him once more, wanting to make sure you weren’t imagining what he just admitted. 

“I hold you in the highest regard General, and if I ever push back on your commands, it’s never out of respect, but concern. Pure concern.” He swallows nervously, waiting until he has your undivided attention before continuing to confess his own doubts. 

“If anything, I feel as if you’ve been actively avoiding me this entire week. With each turn, you somehow find an excuse to leave before I can join your company.” The revelation is enough to set your heart racing, and you have to shut your eyes to focus on calming yourself as you address his impression.

“I- well I just thought that I was bothering you and I figured it wouldn’t make sense if you felt limited simply because I’m around. I wanted to give you the freedom to do whatever you desired, without me standing in the way.” It’s your turn to clear the ruminating misunderstanding, and only when Rex responds shyly do you realize that you’re the source of months and months of misjudgment. 

“I see.” Rex is defeated, and you wish you hadn’t brought this up while you’re in the middle of the mission because you want nothing more than to join him down in the lower deck and tell him how sorry you are for causing him to question himself. 

“It seems you have every right to think me unfit to lead after all. All these assumptions lead to months of misunderstandings, all because of me.” You break the silence, trying your best to not let either of your revelations bring tears to your eyes. You fist your hands tightly to hold yourself back from doing something that might make him uncomfortable.  

“Never, I’d never think that of you.” He meets your eyes instantly, shaking his head and waiting until you accept his peace offering before moving back down to the lower deck.

“I guess it’s best if we just…start fresh.” You say with a faint smile, feeling your chest collapse slowly when Rex returns the smile and nods in agreement. 

“As you wish, sir.”

The night air shifts following those four simple words, and you blink a few times at Rex before returning to your place. You’re not sure how long you’re on that boat, but when the wind picks up, you hope things don’t take a turn for the worse before you catch the assassin who, up until a few minutes ago, you were convinced would have already come to you. Rex is awfully quiet and when you glance behind you, you see him holding a small ornament in his hand, the shape of which is unclear until he looks up and notices you staring at him. He shyly shows it to you, and you smile at him when you note what it is. 

“Gorgeous bird, isn’t it?” 

“What is it?” He gazes at the delicate ornament, its red surface shimmering with flecks of gold and crimson under the soft glow of the night sky and the lights dusted all around the boat. 

“It’s a phoenix, a legendary bird that captivates whoever comes across it in the wild with its vibrant colors and remarkable life cycle.” You watch as Rex marvels at how something so small could evoke such warmth, wondering if he knows that he inspires similar feelings in you. 

“It’s particularly special to the Dondrians because it’s believed to have originated on their world. Its symbolism of renewal and immortality makes it the perfect representation of what Life Day means to them.” 

“What do you mean?” Gently, he turns it in his hands, unwilling to let go of it as he hangs it back where he found it, completely enchanted by its quiet beauty and whom it reminds him of. 

“Well, it lives for several hundred years until it reaches a point where it builds a nest of aromatic wood and sets itself ablaze.” You can tell your words surprise him because he looks from you to the small ornament of the bird, face falling at the thought of a bird practically ending its own life. 

“It…it kills itself?”

“Yes, and no. As the flames consume it, it is reborn from its own ashes, emerging more radiant and young than before. This cycle of death and rebirth represents the very idea of Life Day…of destruction coming from new life, of the importance of transformation, resilience, and hope. The way it embraces its own death and resurrection encourages others to embrace change and look forward to new beginnings.” The way in which he seems to hold on to every single word you say lights a little blaze of hope deep in your soul, and you pray to the maker that whatever change in your relationship lasts long after tonight comes to an end. Rex nods in understanding, trailing his fingers across the glass bird before switching his attention to similar ornaments hanging all around the two of you. 

“They say any representation of the phoenix is supposedly enchanted.” You don’t want the conversation to end, and your smile widens when you see how suddenly interested Rex is in the bird’s mythology.

“Enchanted?”

“Hmm. If you hold that ornament in your hand and wish for anything…anything in this universe, it will fall right into your lap soon after and mark the beginning of a new chapter.” Not even a second later, Rex is taking the phoenix in his hand once more, shutting his eyes and murmuring something to himself. You watch with fascination how utterly captivated he is by the sentiment, and you wonder what he could possibly wish for so quickly. When his eyes flutter open and he finds you already staring at him, he puts the ornament down and stands up, his facial expression turning a lot more serious than a moment ago. 

“Sir, I-” “Heads up, someone’s coming.” Anakin cuts him off and you curse the timing of your guest’s arrival. You shut the comm link off completely, mouthing a quick apology to Rex as he moves out of sight while preparing his blaster. You face away from the sound of the approaching boat and pretend to flinch as soon as you hear a loud crashing sound signal the arrival of your wanted man. 

“You’re dumber than they told me, more conceited too.” The accent is not lost on you, and you file that little bit of information for later. The wind howls across the water, and you begin to move but hear a warning that prevents you from facing the assassin. 

“Ah ahh, turn around slowly.” You hold your hands up as you obey the command, no longer bothering to hide yourself as you fully face him. His breath, a lot calmer than now, comes in short, panicked bursts. His expression falls completely, and you can tell you were the last person he was expecting to see from the fearful air about him. 

“You? Where…where is the Prince?” The smirk you could hear before no longer tugs at his lips, his tone more taunting than now that he knew his mission is not possible.

“Like you said, it would have been extremely absurd if we allowed him to come out here by himself.” His eyes widen in horror, and you tilt your head slightly, hesitating to say more when his figure trembles at the mere sight of you. 

“You’re a Jedi! You’re the one who saved him.”

“Don’t try anything, you’re surrounded and it won’t be easy to escape.” You reply coolly, gaze sharp and unwavering as recognition flashes across his face. 

“This doesn’t have to end badly. Tell me who hired you.” You raise your hand slightly, a subtle warning that you hope he would take to heart and not test. His shoulders sag at the dangerous lilt in your voice, his breathing growing more erratic at the thought of being your captive. 

“I- I can’t.” Sweat glistens on his brow as you meet his aggression with an eerie calmness. 

“We can help you, please.” Your voice is softer now, still firm but not as menacing as before. Taking a step closer to him, you try to impose some sense of tranquility, but his jaws only tighten, his gaze farting around the empty lake in an attempt to find an answer to his predicament. 

“No, you can’t. No one can…if I don’t kill the Prince, he’ll kill me.” His voice cracks, and you watch as his eyes glisten with something between terror and acceptance of what will surely happen now that he failed in his mission. 

“Who?” Your question is followed by a panicked raising of the blaster to your head, and before you can give him another warning glance, you hear Rex ascend behind you, blaster aimed at the man’s head and fingers ready to pull the trigger. 

“Don’t even think about it.” Rex’s tone adds fuel to the fire, the tension rippling along with the waves hitting the hull of the ship. 

“Stand down Captain.” You turn your gaze to Rex, not wanting him to make matters worse.

“I can’t do that sir.” Rex’s voice is tight, and he doesn’t bother meeting your eyes, knowing that if he were to look at you, the man in front of him might take the distraction as an advantage. 

“He’ll kill me, he’ll kill all of us.” The words tumble out in a frenzy, making you fist your hands tightly in discomfort. You ignore Rex for the time being, slowly stepping towards the assailant to try and calm him down once more. 

“Just tell me who he is and I will make sure you’re safe.” Your voice cuts through the hysteria for a second, and you think you can manage to make him put the blaster down without controlling him, but then he whisks the blaster away from you and towards Rex, the reaction instantly making you see red. 

“No, you’re all dead. We’re all dead.”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. This conversation is between you and me, not him.” Your tone drops, no longer friendly or soothing, but searing with displeasure at the sudden change of events. 

“I’m warning you, this doesn’t have to turn ugly.” You try one last time to make him put the blaster down, but sensing the shift in his demeanor, you light your lightsaber just as he shakes his head in madness and readies the blaster. There’s something strange about the way he continues to look up at the lightning shining across the sky, and you follow his line of sight to see if someone is approaching. His panicked movement increases as the crashing sound of thunder increases, and you narrow your eyes at him, unsure of why he was reacting so drastically to the weather. You find yourself lacking sympathy for him, not because of what he’s done, but because of what you see he’s about to do.

“It’s done, we’re- we’re all d-”

You don’t let him finish, sending your lightsaber straight into his chest before dragging it back to your hands. Neither you nor Rex say anything for a moment, and only when you feel the boat rock violently do you finally snap out of the momentary haze you’re in and tell Rex to hold onto something. 

“Pfassk, we need to get back to shore before this storm drowns us.” You’re afraid to look at Rex, unsure of what you’d find swimming in his eyes, if he’s disappointed, shocked or simply disturbed by how easily you took the man’s life. You reach out to the lake bank, focusing on bringing the sail closer to dry land as quickly as possible out of fear of putting Rex’s life and your own in any more danger. It takes longer than you like, but as soon as you reach Anakin, you exit the boat and remove your cloak, quickly handing it over to Rex before asking the others to drag the dead body away. 

“What happened?”

“He was manic…violent.” Rex answers Anakin’s question when you remain quiet, and as Anakin tries to learn anything from the soulless body, you stop pacing behind him and apply pressure to your side, the lack of adrenaline making way for a familiar, stabbing pain. 

“This fucking weather happened. He- maker, he would have listened to me. He would have, but the lightning terrified him. It was almost as if he thought it was after him.”

“So you killed him?” Anakin holds his hands up in question, not understanding why you changed your mind when you were the one who told him why you had to be on that boat, and not him. 

“No, I killed him because he aimed his blaster the wrong way.” Your voice is almost unrecognizable to you, and you watch as your old friend shrugs his shoulders before telling his men to take away the body. 

“We need to leave, or else we’ll get caught in this storm.” You remind them one last time, waiting until they start moving before turning around and looking to gauge Rex’s reaction to this whole ordeal. 

“Tell the Prince they can resume their festivities tonight if they wish. Assuming this doesn’t turn into a blizzard.” You tell Anakin, who nods in agreement and sprints ahead, not wanting to waste any more time outside now that the problem was “solved.”

“You don’t think there’ll be another?” Rex asks and you shake your head instantly, elaborating on why you think there isn’t another assassin running around. 

“No, whoever is behind this wouldn’t take the chance. One wouldn’t talk, two is too high a probability.” You meet his eyes for longer than you deem appropriate, and when he looks away first, you study your surroundings before heading behind Anakin, towards the royal palace. 

“Where are you going?”

“Back to my room, I think diplomacy can wait till tomorrow. Good night Captain.” You don’t bother turning around as you respond to him, knowing that you won’t be able to hold back from apologizing for your actions if you see an unfavorable expression aimed at you. 

An oddly familiar warmth engulfs you the farther you walk away from Rex, and it’s only when you’re back in your room that you realize what that sensation is. You’re confused as to how you could possibly be receptive to Rex’s feelings, but it occurs to you that you may be feeling a fraction of his own emotions simply because he’s allowing you to. Of course it may be unintentional on his side, but be that as it may, a part of him is so in tune with you that the Force decided to connect you to each other, or at least, make you respond to him on a much deeper level than you ever thought possible. 

You stand in the middle of your quarters, recalling every single word you’ve exchanged with Rex during the past rotation. As upset as you are with how certain things turned out, you come to appreciate them all, especially the fact that the two of you were sent on this mission together. You were finding the Life Day Celebrations extremely difficult to enjoy because of your relationship with the Captain, but if anything was proven in the past few hours, it’s that the time of year was truly on your side. 

You make your way to the refresher and find the bacta patch Kix gave you earlier, sighing irritatingly when you realize you forgot to change it. You strip off your clothes and stand in front of the mirror, biting into your cheek as you remove the bacta patch and throw it away. You find the wound almost healed, and you thank the maker you wouldn’t have to deal with it for a longer period. Letting it breathe for a few seconds, you walk around and turn on the hot water, wanting to bathe in a nice, warm bath before whatever you will have to do tomorrow. You move back to the mirror and unsheath the replacement patch, slowly applying it on your skin, and shivering when the cold chemicals make contact with the wound and the skin surrounding it. 

Unbeknownst to you, Rex has debriefed with Anakin and was already heading your way, wanting to make sure that you made it back safely and weren’t in need of anything. He hesitates for a long moment before knocking softly on your door several times, and when he doesn’t hear a response, he unlocks the door and walks in, taking in the small space before calling out for you again. He frowns at the lack of response, knowing that you were in much need of a good night rest. The room is dim, illuminated only by the light filtering through the windows behind the bed. Thinking that you didn’t make it back yet, he’s about to exit when he hears your groans echo through the refresher.

“Sir?” Rex tries, and when your whines only grow louder, he takes out his blaster and readies himself for whatever threat is in the refresher with you. The muffled sounds only grow, and he’s alarmed at the prospect of what he might find when he barges in. Taking calculated steps across the room, he finds the door to the refresher slightly ajar, and as soon as the quiet moan of discomfort reverberates in his ears, he takes two quick strides and pushes the door open, scanning the room in an attempt to find the source of your pained grunts. When he sees you standing half-naked in the middle of the refresher, with your hands massaging the skin around the wound, he lowers his blaster and shuts his eyes, cursing at his lack of sensibility. 

“Ahh kriffing hells. Oh maker, I- I’m sorry General. I thought that you were harmed and- pfassk.” Rex stammers through an apology, his face growing heated at catching you in such a vulnerable state. The tub beside you is half-full, and Rex feels his armor tightening around his crotch, images of you moaning in ecstasy as the water relieved all of your pain making him wish he was anywhere else but here. 

“That’s okay Rex,” you cut him off when you see his face burning with embarrassment, and you do your best to not dwell on the heat from before suddenly wrapping around you like a tight, weighted blanket. It’s endearing how shy he is being with you, and you’re about to giggle at his overreaction when you turn around and find his eyes set on you. There’s a different expression on his handsome features now, and you tilt your head to the side in confusion, unsure of why he was looking at you in such an intimate way. 

“What?” You decide to ask, knowing that things couldn’t possibly get any more awkward than they already have.

“I’ve never heard you say my name before.” The comment throws you off guard, and you look around the foggy room, hoping to find a response written somewhere. You meet his gaze again, and notice his body language relax, as if the sound of his name on your lips was all he needed to hear to grow more comfortable with you. 

“That can’t be true.” You know he’s not wrong, but you are also aware that you’ve called his name about a thousand times in the privacy of your room. You’ve called his name more often than you care to admit, but he had no way of knowing that, not when, up until a few hours ago, he genuinely thought you disliked him. 

“Believe me, I would remember it if you did.” He chuckles at you, the sound far from humorous and fully self-deprecating. There’s nothing comforting you can say to him, and you rub your temples to alleviate the sudden throbbing ache circling around your head. When he doesn’t move, you walk across the room to shut off the running water, distracting yourself from the predicament you now found yourself in. 

“Is there something you needed, Captain? I’m not exactly dressed for a debriefing but we’ll have to make do.” You stand up and motion around the room, wanting to get this over with so you can drown in self-pity when you’re left alone. 

“No General, I only wanted to- well, I came here to see if…” He’s tripping over his words, and it would be endearing if it weren’t for the fact that he just indirectly admitted to you what he felt when you called his name. 

“I know I’m not exactly being professional here but, since when do you get so tongue-tied around me?” You test the waters against your better judgement, wanting to see how far you can take this before one of you cracks. Rex shakes his head in defeat, and you realize that there’s no point in taking this any further, not when the man in front of you refused to cross the professional boundaries setting you apart. You couldn’t blame him. 

“Okay, here’s the thing Rex. I am freezing cold, and from what I’ve heard, the water won’t stay heated for a long time, especially during this weather. So until you decide what you want to do here, I will be getting in.” You take your slippers off and take a few steps around the tub, completely missing the puddle that collected from the flowing water.

“CAReful!” Rex is behind you in the blink of an eye, arms caging you against his chest to prevent you from slipping and hurting yourself. You grab onto his arms to right yourself but the floor is too wet, and you find yourself awfully closer to him than a second ago. You meet his gaze and are suddenly mesmerized by the hazel green of his eyes, the ones you can barely see around his dilated pupils. 

“Kriff, that would have been a really bad fall. Thank you.” Your attempt at a joke is met with a serious expression, and you drop the smile when Rex slowly steps away from the slippery floor to help you stand up. He lets go of you as soon as you stand up, and you find yourself a little hurt at how quickly he wants to step away from you. 

“For a Jedi, your reflexes sure are slow.” The comment is far from insulting, meant to diffuse the tension rising due to the circumstances, but for some reason, your mind decides to make things worse and respond with a statement that is far from harmless. 

“I guess we’re even now.” Rex’s expression falls as he continues staring at you, and he doesn’t dare say anything in return as he walks around you and makes his way out of the refresher. Something in the way he seems to be genuinely hurt by your comment makes you run after him and pull his arm to prevent him from leaving. He stops but doesn’t face you, and you suspect it may be because he is angry with how you make light of such a crucial moment. 

“I- I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. Please don’t- don’t be mad at me. I know we barely resolved our misunderstanding but I- I just… just don’t leave.” Your voice cracks as you practically beg him to stay, and only when he takes a deep breath and relaxes his shoulders slightly do you finally let go of him.

“You think I’m angry with you?” He turns around slowly and frowns at you, questioning your apology in a way that makes you think you were completely in the wrong. 

“Aren’t you?” You nervously play with your fingers, looking away from him when you can’t bear the scrutiny of his hurt impression any longer.

“No, maker no. I have never once, in my life, felt anything other than respect for you.” He reaches out for you, placing both of his hands on your shoulders to make sure you are listening to every word he’s saying.

“Oh,” unfortunately for Rex, you misunderstand his confession and sag your shoulders in disappointment. Of course he wouldn’t feel anything more for you. Why would he? You’ve given him no reason to feel a fraction of what you’ve felt for him for so long. 

“I am not angry with you, mesh’la. I am angry at the prospect of you thinking my life is more important than yours, at you forgoing your principles just to save me.” Rex sees the way you shift uncomfortably, the weight of his words settling heavily between you. His gaze is steady, and you can’t help but return it when you see the fierce protectiveness he’s exuding, one you had not expected to encounter in such an intimate setting. 

“You- you jumped in harm’s way to save me, not even thinking of your own well-being. And later…on the boat, I saw the way you changed when he aimed his blaster at me.” He clarifies further, the revelation sending goosebumps down your arms and forcing you to step closer to him. You furrow your eyebrows at the implication behind his words, placing your hands on his chest without caring for any repercussions. 

“Of course I did, what else would you expect me to do?”

“Not sacrifice yourself for someone like me.” His answer comes in heated, and the level of hurt you feel rising in your throat makes you push him away from you. 

“What do you mean ‘someone like you’?” You snap at him, shaking your head in disbelief at what you’re hearing from him of all people. 

“I’m not as important as you are. I’m replaceable.” Rex must not expect such a reaction because he steps towards you right away, grabbing both of your wrists to speak words that he doesn’t realize hurt you more than him. 

“You- you think your life isn’t worth mine? Why…why would you even say that Rex? What makes you think you can even believe something so far from the truth?” Tears well up in your eyes as you look at him, voice trembling with emotion at the thought of Rex believing something absolutely false. He hesitates for a moment, struggling to find the right words as you melt into his arms. 

“Because I’m that one that should protect you. I should be the one making sure you’re safe.” He finally replies, his voice barely louder than a whisper. Again, it must not be the right thing to say because you only get more annoyed, fisting your hands and slightly pushing on his chest to keep his attention. 

“I hate to break it to you but that’s a two-way road, Rex. If I had to, I would do it again.” You say matter of factly, wanting him to fully understand that you don’t see yourself as any more important than him. 

“Why?” He lets go of your shoulders and slides his hands down your arms, enveloping your fists in the palms of his hands. 

“Because I- I’m your…” His grip tightens around you as you struggle to tell him what you feel for him. You avoid his eyes but he tugs you into his chest and makes sure you’re looking at him before he interrupts you. 

“What? You’re my General? You want me to believe you’re willing to die for me, or even change your own rules because you’re my superior?” 

“N-no…it’s not just that.” You shake your head, knowing that you should tell him the truth regardless of how difficult it can be for you. 

“Then tell me.” He begs softly, leaning into you until he touches his forehead with your own. The warmth of his skin sets you on fire, making you wish you could just confess to him and deal with the consequences later. 

“Tell me why you’d risk your life for mine.” Rex’s eyes soften as he shuts them completely, and if you weren’t so held up on whether his feelings were mutual or not, you would have understood what he was trying to tell you through the intimate gesture. 

“I can’t.”

“Tell me cyar’ika.” 

“Rex, I-” 

“Tell me me’suum’ika…please.” He cuts you off then, his pleading storming your heart with waves of emotions so overwhelming that you have no choice but to give him what he wants. 

“Because if anything were to happen to you, my life will be over.” You admit, voice shaking with fear and relief at finally letting go of the secret you’ve held onto for months. 

“Mesh’la,” the word is whispered with a warmth and gentleness that shake you to your core, and you finally open your eyes to look at him, finding nothing but adoration and tenderness staring right back at you. 

“Rex.”

“I can’t protect you tonight.” His gaze is…it’s more intense than you’ve ever seen, but it’s unwavering as it descends to your lips and refuses to attend to anything else. 

“Hmm?” You’re confused by his choice in words, caught even more off guard by the weight of them as you try to make sense of what he wants to tell you.

“I said…I can’t protect you tonight.” His voice is low, almost strained, sending you spiraling down into an abyss of an unquenchable fire. 

“W-why?” Your throat tightens, brows furrowing at the way Rex struggles with what to say in response. 

“Because every second I spend near you, not being able to touch you, or kiss you, or whisper how kriffing badly I have it for you is torture. It’s absolute torture. And now that I am here, with you looking so lovely, so- so…irresistible, telling me what I am to you, I can’t hold back any longer.” He exhales sharply, hands moving from your hands to your neck for a brief moment before you feel them wrap around you and pull you flush against his chest. 

“Then don’t.” The air between you cackles with tension, and Rex’s breath hitches at the raw, pleading tone you grace him with.

“If you let me taste your lips, know that I will never let you go.” He’s gathering the strength to speak, and when his eyes burn with an intensity that steals your breath away, it occurs to you that he’s barely holding himself back from you. 

“Rex?” He looks at you then, committing every curve of your face to memory as you call for him again, his heart stuttering at the raw vulnerability mirrored in your own pupils. 

“Please kiss me.” His answer doesn’t come in words, but in the way he shuts his eyes as he closes the distance between the two of you. His fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of your neck, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that feels like a breaking storm—wild, unrelenting, and long overdue. You had expected him to be timid, gentle even, but the untamed way in which he instantly swallows your moans makes your knees weak, and you have to wrap your arms around his neck to prevent yourself from falling to the ground. 

You’re not sure who is more desperate, you or Rex, but as the kiss becomes more heated, you feel as if your lungs will collapse from the sheer need and surrender moving between the two of you. And as his hand cups the side of your face, you tremble at the sensation of his thumb as it traces your jaw until he tilts your head to the side.  

“Ohh g-gods,” you break the kiss for a fraction of a second, but Rex is unrelenting, claiming your mouth fully and moving his lips over yours until every inch of your skin comes alive with fire. You’re urgent in your touches as well, afraid that he will let go any moment and you realize this is all just a dream. But the more he consumes your skin, the quicker your heartbeat thunders against your chest and you press yourself closer to him in an attempt to ground yourself. 

When he does finally let go, your breath comes in short, shaky gasps, but there’s no time to collect yourself. His lips descend down your neck, and you throw your head back, pleasure coursing through your veins so quickly that you have to muffle your mouth to hold back from screaming his name. The small gesture doesn’t go unnoticed by Rex and he pulls back far enough to catch your attention, waiting until you’re blinking confusingly at him before he returns to your neck. 

“No, you don’t hide your noises from me. You have no idea how many nights I spent imagining you in my arms…moaning for me, begging me to touch you and pull every ounce of pleasure from your body.” He leaves a searing trail of fire with each wet kiss, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin and biting down harshly when you moan in return. 

“But what if Anakin-” He growls at the mention of his friend’s name, his chest tightening at the sound of another man’s name on your lips. His hand trails down your neck to your waist, squeezing you tightly as he slides his tongue down your sternum and coaxes more sounds from you the lower he goes. Rex looks up briefly, smirking with pride when he sees how disoriented you’ve become from such simple touches. 

“I don’t care, let him hear. Let them all hear, I want everyone on this planet to know who’s making you feel good. Do you understand me…General?” His confession burns through you, and he zeroes in on the pulse thundering against your neck, biting down harshly as his heart tingles with each moan you sing to him. The way he says your title, so possessive and crazes, sends a fresh wave of desire through you, and you have to fight not to crumble entirely beneath his touches.

“F-fuck, yes…yes Captain. I- whatever you want.” You gasp, voice breaking as you feel yourself sinking against him. You grip at his shoulders for some semblance of stability, the cool edge of his armor digging into your arms and reminding you how naked you are. 

“Come here,” his tone is commanding, full of raw desire, and you shiver at the power behind it, swearing beneath your breath when he leans down and slides his hands firmly around your lower back.  

“But the water-” You giggle at how quickly he moves from the refresher to the bedroom, and you feel yourself growing wet at how easily he picks you up. 

“You don’t need the water to keep you warm.” Rex shakes his head, leaning down and giving you a quick peck on the lips before settling you down on your sheets.

“No?” You tease, lower lip trapped between your teeth as you try to hold back from snickering at what he’s making you feel. 

“No baby, that’s what I’m here for.” he murmurs, leaning in close until he cages you between his arms. The bed dips beneath him, and you feel your heart racing at finally having your dreams come true. His eyes barely have any color left in them, and you squeeze your thighs together, excited at being the reason behind such a visceral reaction. 

“And exactly how will you w-warm me up?” You trail your hand down up his neck, tracing his cheeks softly and shivering when you feel the rough stubble of his jaw kiss your palms.  

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Rex chuckles, the sound vibrating through the quiet air of the room and making you even more nervous. He draws deliberate circles against your breasts, watching with bated breath as your eyes shut instantly. 

“Yes…oh kriff, please Rex. Tell me…tell me.” The need you display to him nearly makes him choke. Never in his life did he think he’d have such an effect on you, but he doesn’t question it, instead giving you more so he can hear what he does to you. 

“Let’s see,” Rex leans closer, lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he speaks with a sinful whisper, “I’ll start off by kissing down your body.” 

“Hmm,” the image alone leaves you breathless, and you tilt your head to the side to give him better access to your neck, not caring for how loud you’re getting as your moans turn into long sighs. 

“And while you moan at feeling my hands trace your soft skin, I’ll…pull away.” His words trail off, and he suddenly pulls back completely, creating a rift between you that has you sitting up quickly and grabbing his kama to prevent him from getting off the bed.

“N-no don’t,” you plead desperately, refusing to let go of him as he returns to your side and kisses your forehead. 

“Shhh, don’t worry mesh’la. I’m not going anywhere.” He catches your wrists, pressing them against his chest to still you before slowly standing up again. He doesn’t break your gaze, and he waits until you relax to begin taking off his armor. You swallow the lump in your throat when you finally register what he just called you, and your breathe trembles as you nod in agreement, 

“But for me to show you how much I crave you, I need to remove all of this.” The promise in his voice makes you wish he could put you out of your misery and take you then and there. But you know better than to distract him. 

“Rex,” you whine his name like a prayer, unable to hide how much you want him. 

“I know sweetheart, I know. But it’s all part of the plan, how else will I keep you running…hot for me.” 

“Force help me,” your head falls back as a groan slips past your lips, and you don’t notice where your hand descends until you feel Rex slipping his fingers around your wrist and shoving your arm away from your heated core. 

“You can call out all you want, little Jedi, but the only one here is me…so you better put my name to good use.” Rex leans in close again, hovering just above your body as he taunts you with promises. His voice is a delicious growl, one that has you shaking with anticipation and pulling another moan from your throat. 

“Rex…”

“Better,” the satisfaction in his eyes is unmistakable, and he brushes his lips against yours in a featherlight kiss that leaves you chasing after him when he pulls away to strip. 

“Please Rex, I need you.” You beg sweetly, the words spilling out before you can stop them. You should be embarrassed by how wanton you sound, but you find that you couldn’t care any less, the need to have Rex settle between your thighs outgrowing any shame you have. 

“I thought you needed to hear what I want to do to you?” His expression is dark and unreadable as he places his armor on the floor. He stands in nothing but the black body glove he wears beneath his armor, and you’re overwhelmed by how much you can see of him that you shut your eyes and throw your head back. Rex uses the momentary distraction to his advantage, sliding his eyes down your body to sketch a mental image of you in case he never gets to do this again. When he’s had his fair share of you, he removes the rest of his clothes until he’s not wearing anything. 

“Look at me cyar’ika,” he commands, his tone leaving no room for argument. When you obey and open your eyes, the air leaves your lungs dramatically, your mind unable to accept the fact that he’s more naked than you are, that you’re finally, finally, seeing all of him. 

“You- you’re torturing me.” You’re shaking with lust, praying to the Force that Rex decides to lose control and take what he wants. 

“Is that right?” His lips curl into a knowing smirk, the ghost of a laugh escaping him and making you flush embarrassingly as he moves on top of you. “Oh…maker,” there is no hesitation in his movements, just a careful balance of control and desperate need. Rex holds you tightly in his arms and kisses you until neither of you can breathe. You think he might break you and for a brief moment, you want him to, if only so he could know how much you belong to him. You arch your back into him, trying to adjust to the overwhelming sensation of having his skin slide against yours. 

“Am I pleasing to you?” Rex lets go and wraps his hand around your neck, not firmly, but just to have you look at him. The muscles of his jaw flexes as he watches you lose control, his voice reverent as he practically begs for you to answer him. 

“You have no idea,” your fingers curl into his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as you try to somehow bring him even closer to you. 

“I think I have some id-” he smiles faintly, dipping down to kiss along your collarbone before moving further down your body. His words are cut off by a groan when he feels you scratch his head. He can feel every inch of you growing hotter beneath his touch, and he doesn’t hold back any longer, not caring for how aggressive he’s being as he slips two fingers beneath your panties and tugs violently until they rip in his hands. You squeal suddenly, partly shocked by the reaction, but mostly turned on by how much he craves you. Before you can even register what he’s doing, Rex is shoving your thighs apart and kissing your inner thighs, the scent of your cunt hitting his nostrils and making him growl, the sound rumbling from his chest and setting you on fire. 

“Fuck mesh’la, you say I’m torturing you but the taste of you makes me…it- hmmm, kriff.” The gutteral sound sends heat pooling in your core, and you find yourself clinging to him even harder as you feel this lips ghost against the outer lips of your pussy.

“Rex,” you whimper, his name slipping from your lips as though it was the only word you knew. 

“I know I begged you to call my name, but…if you keep moaning it so shamelessly, this night will come to an end a lot quicker.” Rex stills suddenly, looking up at you with wild eyes, his control hanging by an extremely thin thread. 

“I- I don’t care Rex, I want you…I just want you, please.” You plead over and over again, trying your best to pull him up so he can forgo whatever he had in mind for you and just fuck you then and there. 

“But I need to get you- oh, Force help me.” He moves up your body, pressing his forehead against yours and tripping over his words when he feels you wrap your hands around his hard cock. 

“I’m already so wet for you baby, please…take me.” You whisper, desperation dripping from every word you pray to him. He’s heavy in the palm of your hand, hot and hard to the touch, and you wonder if this is how it will always be with him. You pray it is. 

Maker, please. 

“You should know, I need you so desperately that I- I may not be able to hold back.” His breathing grows ragged, the restraint unraveling rapidly the more you slide and squeeze his dick. He shuts his eyes and fists the sheets beneath you, and you can’t help but lean forward and kiss his jaw softly, licking down his throat and biting into the skin between his neck and his shoulder when he sinks against you.

Smiling at how easily you can bring his guards down, you pull him closer until your lips brush his ear, whispering the one sentiment you’ve thought of ever since you met him.

“Rex, I want you to fuck me like you hate me.” 

“Oh, me’suum’ika, I don’t want to do that.” His head snaps up, eyes narrowing as he stares down at you with a tenderness that melts you. Rex presses his nose to your temple, sighing your name over and over again until you let go of him and bring him down for a kiss. He pushes you harder into the bed, slipping his hand behind your back to undo your chest band before throwing it behind him. You break the kiss to look at him, and Rex is sure he’s never seen a more beautiful sight in his entire life. 

“I want to fuck you like I can’t breathe without you. I want to fuck you like I can’t get the thought of you out of my head…I want to fuck you like you’re mine, and I’m yours.”

Your heart swells at the raw, needy emotion in his words, and your hands slips into his hair, scratching it softly and smiling with tears in your eyes when he leans into the touch and groans in return. 

“I am, I’ve been yours Rex. Only yours.”

“Shit, you’re going to be the death of me baby.” Rex exhales shakily, attacking your chest with more kisses and waiting until he hears you call for him again before taking a nipple in between his teeth. You arch your back against him, opening your thighs so he can settle better against you before crossing your legs behind his back. As soon as you feel his cock tease at your entrance, a wave of shameless desire seeps through your body and you feel your cunt throb in pain at having him so close. 

“I- ohhh gods, I can’t wait any longer Rex.” You squirm beneath him, the action sliding his cock against you and making him bite your sensitive bud in return. “But…you deserve to be loved cyare. Slowly, deeply, passionately.” He wants nothing more than to push his cock into your pussy, but he waits, wanting to make sure that you’re ready for him so he doesn’t hurt you. 

“We can d-do that later, however long you want…whenever you like. But I need to feel you inside me, now.” You shake your head, voice desperate and lust-filled. He studies you for a brief moment, and when he finds nothing but a needy truth swimming in your eyes, he pushes away and leans back to get a better look at you. His eyes zero in on your cunt, and his cock twitches at finally having you naked and willing beneath him. 

“Spread your legs wide for me, and if it’s too much…if I’m too much, tell me.” Rex swallows hard, his eyes softening before darkening once more. You nod quickly, watching him as he takes hold of his cock and slides it across your cunt to spread your juices on him. The gesture is so filthy, and if it were any other man, you would have found it off-putting. But this was Rex, and you had only imagined him fucking you about a thousand times. 

“R-rex,” you gasp as he slowly pushes into you, the sensation both overwhelming and mind-bending. Rex can’t take his eyes off of where you’re connected, and his breathing picks up when he begins to feel you clench around him, his cock sliding with ease from how wet you are. He can’t believe that he barely touched you and you were so ready for him, but he pushes the thought aside, wanting to relish every second he’s allowed to be inside you. 

“Ah f-fuck, you’re…you’re so warm, so kriffing warm and tight.” He curses softly, his head falling back briefly before his eyes return to your cunt once more. 

“I want to feel all of you Rex,” you run your hands over his arms, feeling the tense muscles shift with every movement. You silently wish that he falls against you so you can feel his body atop yours, and it must be evident in the way your eyes trail up and down his body because he slowly pushes himself on top of you, his cock sinking deeper into you as he shifts closer. 

“Sweet girl, my beautiful jetii’ika.” Rex looks down at you, his eyes filled with awe and reverence, and something that should terrify you but instead makes you feel warm and cherished. 

“You’re s-so deep inside me Rex, I feel…full.” Your voice hitches as he continues to push his dick inside you until he’s fully seated deep in your cunt. You bite into your fingers but Rex shakes his head, reminding you of his warning from earlier. 

“Remember, your sounds are mine tonight. I want to hear everything that I do to you.” He grits his teeth, hands digging into your hips as he forces you to let go of your fingers and call his name. 

“I love being this close to you... it’s perfect.” You confess, barely managing to string together a coherent thought as you feel him throbbing inside you. 

“God, you feel so tight around me…” He wants to pull back and thrust inside you, but he holds back out of fear of hurting you. It’s only when he feels you wrap your legs around him and force him to move that he understands what you want from him. He pulls out until the crown of his cock is seated perfectly in between your pussy lips, and as soon as you moan for him, he thrusts back inside, the sensation sending his mind in a frenzy and nearly making him fuck you into oblivion. Rex stops for a moment, wanting to keep himself in check so he doesn’t terrify you by how much he craves you. 

“Mmm, and you feel so big, so fucking hard and big. Move, Rex…please.” You throw your head to the side, biting into his wrist and whining in ecstasy when he obeys you and slowly snaps his hips against you. 

“You’re so wet for me already and I haven’t even fucked you yet.” He mutters beneath his breath, licking and sucking on your neck as he continues to shove his cock inside you, suddenly feeling dizzy at how perfect you feel around him. What he doesn’t expect is for you to chuckle in response and meet his gaze in an intense gaze, parting your lips and answering him with another, lust-filled confession.  

“That’s because I- hmmm, I’ve imagined you fucking me every night since we met, and- and now that I’m here, in your arms-” You gasp at a particularly hard thrust, digging your nails into Rex’s back and smiling when you see his features turn into a mixture of pain and pleasure. 

“Tell me baby,” he coaxes, his voice rough with desire as he continues to fuck you passionately. 

“Nothing compares to h-how you fill me up, Rex.” You confess, shaking at how perfectly Rex feels inside of you, cock hard and hot as it slides against your tight walls. 

“You have no idea mesh’la,” you can tell his control is slipping further, and you wonder what it would take for him to lose all control and take you as you desire. 

“I can- can feel how much you want this.” He leans down and swallows your moans, slipping his tongue inside of you and claiming your mouth while his cock claims your cunt. 

“Yes... don’t stop. Go deeper, just like that.” You wrap your arms around him, breathing heavily against his ears as you feel him push into you with a pace that’s nearly blinding. 

“You’re taking me so well, baby. This cunt was made for me, perfect fucking pussy. I can spend hours between your legs.” Rex’s voice comes out heavy, and he reaches down to place his arm around one of your thighs so he can push it higher and come closer against you. 

“Please, harder…fuck me harder Captain.” You cry out, overwhelmed by the sensations Rex continues to rip from your body. 

“Whatever you want to make you lose control, General.” Rex groans in return, his pace brutal and unrelenting as he feels his stomach begin to tighten. The sound of skin meeting skin echoes through the room, a frenzied beat that matches the pounding in his heart, he suspects, yours as well. He pulls back just enough to look at you, and when he finds you biting your lower lip to contain yourself, he slams harder into you until he has your attention. 

“Look at me while I’m inside you... let me see how much you love this.” He demands assertively, eyes searching your own he feels sweat drip from his brow. There is a thick haze of lust clouding the room, and before you can even answer him, he thrusts harder, deeper, inside you, forcing your body to react in ways he only dreamt of. “Rex…I- I’m, I’m yours... all yours.” You acknowledge him without even thinking, the need dripping from your words matching the same one you can see storming in his eyes. 

“You have all of me cyare, my heart, my soul…my everything.” Your confession drives him mad, and the look of pure ecstasy etching on your features sends him reeling, his body trembling as you cling on to him while he pushes you closer to the edge. You sob with pleasure as his movements pick up, his words igniting something primal inside of you. 

“That’s it, baby. I can feel you getting closer. Don’t hold back—let go for me. Come for me. I want to feel you squeeze me..fall apart for me.” The possessiveness radiating off of him in waves should terrify you, but instead, you tighten your legs around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer to you so you can feel every inch of him as he coats your walls with his seed. The tension in your body is palpable, every nerve lit up like a wildfire as you approach that inevitable release. Rex must feel it too because he sinks into the crook of your neck, breathing in the scent of your sweat and something sweet that he might never forget. 

“I’m so close... oh fuck, I’m going to come!” You cry against him, voice breaking as your body teeters on the brink of bliss. 

“Fuck- I…I can’t. I need to-” His rhythm begins to stutter, his breathing becoming heavier and more erratic as he fights to hold on until he feels you come on his cock. Rex’s grip on you tightens, his fingertips pressing into your skin as if he’s trying to anchor himself to reality, to the gift the universe has handed him after so long. 

“Don’t hold back, Rex. I want you to come for me, come inside me. I want to feel you…want to take you so deep, fill me up. Please…p-please Rex,” you plead, clawing at his back as you show him that you need him just as desperately. Hearing you beg for him to fill you with his cum shatters the last of his resolve, his pace faltering as he buries himself inside you to the hilt. A guttural groan tears from his throat as he finally lets go, the pleasure crashing over him overtaking him just as it engulfs your body. He feels you tighten around him, your body convulsing so violently that he can’t figure out whether it’s you who’s crying in pleasure or him. 

You’re completely spent, your pussy throbbing harshly as you feel Rex shoot long, hot spurts of his seed deep inside you. It shouldn’t please you so much, but knowing that you have him reach places inside you that no one else will make the pleasure all the more intense, and you twist your head until you can kiss along his neck, silently letting him know that you will never belong to anyone else but him. 

He collapses over you then, supporting himself on his forearms so he doesn’t suffocate you. His head is still buried in your neck as you both gasp for air, body trembling slightly as he presses soft kisses to your skin in return. His lips linger over your pulse point where he can feel your heartbeat racing as quickly as his own. Rex lifts his head until he meets your eyes, his own brimming with affection as he smiles at you and nudges your nose with his.

“Baby, you’re everything to me.”

“Rex, I…I think I-” you start, voice quiet and uncertain, afraid that once you tell him what you feel, you will lose it all…lose him. 

“I know. Cyare, I know.” He murmurs gently, his hand cradling your face as he leans down and kissing you slowly until you feel nothing but warmth and understanding. 

And in that moment, you have no doubt that something deeper than words binds the two of you, something that no one will ever be able to take away from you. 

Against his wishes, Rex pulls out of you with a groan, biting into his lower lip when he hears you whine with contention. You don’t let him go too far, sliding against his side and nuzzling into his chest as he pulls the covers above the two of you. 

A comfortable silence fills the air and after a while, you look up to find Rex meditating deeply, his attention focused on the ceiling high above you. 

“What are you thinking about?” You ask, fingers moving up and down his chest in a soothing way. 

“I’m thinking of what will happen tomorrow now that you won’t be keeping your distance anymore.” He means it as a joke, but when he looks down and sees your hurt expression, he drops the smile and leans over to kiss you, letting you know that he meant no harm by the comment and was just teasing you. 

“Rex, I’ll do whatever you want to do going forward. If you want me to act as if nothing has changed, I’ll do that. And if you want to tell your brothers, it would make me feel so happy…and- and if you want me to leave the Order, give up everything…I will gladly do so without a second thought.” Rex’s expression shifts, his brow furrowed beneath the shadow of his close-cropped hair. He looks at you like he’s trying to make sense of your words, trying to fit them into the reality he had come to know in the past rotation. 

“You- you would leave the Jedi for me?” His voice is rough with disbelief, and for a moment, he is genuinely convinced he has misheard you. The idea that someone like you— strong, steadfast, bound by your sworn duty to the Jedi and the Republic—would ever consider leaving all of it…for him…maker, it seemed impossible. It had to be. 

“I would do anything for you just to have you keep looking at me the way you are now.” You cut through his disbelief with the utmost sincerity, gaze never once wavering as you do your best to make him understand what he means to you. The silence that follows hangs heavy in the air, and Rex swallows hard as searches for the right words, for anything that could match the depth of what you just offered him. He reaches out, trailing his fingers over your cheeks as he leans down to meet your lips in a chaste kiss. The touch of his lips is reverent, as if he wants to assure himself that you are real, that you are in his arms, that you are willingly giving yourself to him without a second thought. 

When he finally pulls away and sees tears pricking against your eyes, he smiles at you and nods in understanding. 

“How about we go day by day, and when this war is over, we can reassess.” He finally says, his voice less anxious than before. He lays back down and pulls you into his arms, hands going to your waist to pull you flush against him. You cry out in pain and push yourself away from him, the reaction catching Rex by surprise and making him sit up to see what he’s done When he sees you grabbing at your wound and hissing in discomfort, dread settles in his chest as he realizes he forgot the wound and handled you a lot more aggressively that he should have. 

“Kriff, your side…I- I completely forgot. Mesh’la, are you-” He leans over to assess the bacta patch, wanting to see the damage he’s done and already thinking of what to tell Kix when he asks him to come and inspect the wound. His panic rises as you push his hand away and look down to find the patch still in place, and only when you’re sure no blood has seeped through do you grab Rex’s hand and settle it against the wound. 

“Rex, relax. I- to be honest with you, I’m not sure whether or not I felt any pain. I was so far gone in our…activities, that I didn’t really focus on anything else.” His eyes are less anxious as you allow him to massage the skin around the wound, and when he sees there are no lies in your words, he nods and studies the irritated skin one last time before settling back down, bringing you into his chest gently. 

He smiles when he feels you kiss just above his heart, giggling softly when you pinch his side and tease him for being so cuddly. 

“Can I ask you something?” It’s his turn to interrupt the silence filling the room, and tilt your head up to nod at him. 

“Anything!” His lips twitch into the faintest of smiles at the earnestness in your voice, his heart skipping a beat at the prospect of giving him the answer he’s been seeking for months on end. 

“At what point did your feelings switch from wanting to be with me physically to…to whatever they are now?” Rex hesitates, choosing his words carefully and refusing to look anywhere else out of fear of missing a change in your facial expressions. When your brow lifts and your hand returns to his stomach, you can’t help but smile at him and shift your gaze to a fixed point somewhere on the skin beneath your palm. 

“You mean when did I know that I’m yours?” His face flushes with embarrassment, but he nods instantly, not wanting to turn this moment awkward by his boyish reaction to your rather honest sentiment. 

“I don’t think I can pinpoint a day or an hour, it all happened so suddenly and I didn’t realize how deep my feelings ran for you until I was so far gone in them.” You exhale deeply, turning a little contemplative as you admit to him everything you’ve felt for the past year or so. 

“If I were to pick a reason though, it would have to be the way you carry yourself with your brothers, with Anakin even.” He looks down at you then, his gaze unwavering as he feels his soul light with a fire that he’s sure no one will ever put out now that you’ve kindled it. 

“Seeing you give up so much to ensure your brothers live for another day stirred something inside me. And knowing that you’d follow Anakin into a battlefield without a second thought is…it’s- maker Rex, you’re amazing. You’re the best man I’ve ever met.” Your voice cracks slightly with emotion, a few tears rolling down your cheeks as you let him know that you will never care for anyone more than you care for him. Rex blinks down at you, stunned into silence at the raw honesty behind your words. 

“The loyalty, the courage—it speaks volumes.” His chest tightens as you speak those words, and he can’t help but turn to face you fully so he can focus on nothing else but the way you fit perfectly in his arms. 

“Come here, me’suum’ika.” He wraps his arms around you and molds you into his chest, stealing the breath from your lungs with a kiss that you’re sure would rival all the others he’s gifted you with so far. You let him take whatever he wants from you, sliding your arm around his back to feel every inch of him as he makes you forget the universe outside of your room. 

“What does that word mean?” You smile at him when he finally breaks the kiss and trails his lips across your cheeks and down your neck. 

“It means ‘little moon.’” Rex murmurs gently, as if he was sharing a secret meant only for your ears. Your heart swells at the tender nickname, and you press yourself closer to him, wanting to stay in his embrace for as long as you’re allowed. You breathe his presence to anchor yourself to him, refusing to acknowledge the chaos of the war raging outside your existence, here in this moment. 

“Stay with me tonight,” you whisper pleadingly, voice barely audible. “Please.”

Rex’s hands tighten around you, and he brushes his thumb over your skin as he pulls you back to meet your gaze. 

“I wouldn’t dream of being anywhere else, cyar’ika.”

The word sends a shiver down your spine, and you lose yourself in his arms, knowing that nothing will ever compare to what you now share with him. 

And as you slowly succumb to sleep, Rex silently thanks the mythical bird for giving him what he’s wished for. The war may not be over, but it could wait. The galaxy, with all its heartbreak and evil, can be someone else’s concern. Tonight, Rex had you, and that was more than enough.

You were all he ever desired. 

And he finally had you.

[star-wars-writing]

The Winter Rose Blooms

Summary: a renowned matchmaker, is tasked with finding a bride for Cody, the heir to the throne of the royal family on a snowy, idyllic planet far away in the galaxy. But while the reader is determined to fulfill her duty, she doesn’t expect to fall for Rex, the spare prince with a heart of gold and a penchant for mischief. As snow falls and the warmth of the season unfolds, love blooms where it’s least expected—proving that sometimes, the best matches aren’t planned at all.

A/N: This story was inspired by a Christmas movie I’d seen, and I thought it would be a lovely addition to the Clone Wars holiday stories out there. I wanted to blend the charm of royal romance with the rich camaraderie and emotional depth of the Clone Wars characters, creating something heartfelt and festive. I hope this brings a little joy and warmth to your holiday reading!

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Alderia hung in the vast tapestry of the galaxy like a jewel lost to time. Its beauty was so tangible it might have been carved by the hand of a benevolent god—so much so that travelers whispered of it as though it were myth. Planets in the Outer Rim were rarely spoken of with reverence, but Alderia was an exception.  

From orbit, its surface shimmered with life. Indigo oceans spread like veins, their depths glowing faintly under the light of its twin moons, Ceera and Lumar. Snow-draped mountains clawed skyward to the west, their jagged peaks sharp as blades forged by time. These were the **Jolaris Mountains**, home to valleys choked in mist and legends older than the Republic itself. Waterfalls crashed over cliffsides like liquid silver, feeding rivers that snaked their way down into the open arms of Alderia's vast countryside.

The countryside—The Naldorian Reach—unfurled endlessly, rippling with gold, green, and copper in the light of a low sun. Fields of fireflowers swayed like waves of flame, their petals casting a soft glow under the night. Here, farmers tended to crops that fed not just their planet but many others who came seeking Alderia’s bounty. Herds of **tarka**, long-horned creatures with coats of soft silver fur, grazed freely. Villages sprouted amidst the land like freckles, their cottages carved from smooth gray stone, smoke curling peacefully from their chimneys.  

To the south lay the **Ivaryn Seas**, sprawling sapphire waters where waves crashed against cliffs shaped by a millennia of tides. Ships from the far corners of the galaxy anchored here, their sails or thrusters spilling stories of distant systems. Markets brimmed with alien goods—rugs woven on Naboo, glittering crystals mined deep on Christophsis, and spices from the windswept plains of Tatooine. Valford Prime, the capital, sprawled in the planet’s heart—a city of bridges and canals, where modern steel and glass spires rose alongside mosaicked relics of a bygone age.

The people of Alderia were as colorful as their planet, a mosaic of cultures that had long made their home here. They came in pursuit of peace, a place unspoiled by galactic war or greed, and they stayed because Alderia embraced them as its own. Their tongues spoke many languages, their songs carried many traditions. And together, they loved their planet like a child loves its mother—fiercely, selflessly.

It was a place alive in a way the rest of the galaxy seemed to have forgotten.

---

On the highest balcony of Valford Prime’s royal palace, Jaster stood, his silhouette backlit by the rising sun. The crisp morning air rolled in from the Jolaris peaks, carrying the scent of pine, frost, and the delicate winter roses blooming in the gardens below. Jaster let his gaze drift across the world beneath him—the tapestry of mountains, plains, and seas spread out like a promise that no longer belonged to him.  

For all its splendor, Alderia felt quieter these days.  

The king’s fingers curled around the carved stone railing, his knuckles white for a fleeting moment before he forced himself to relax. He had been many things in his lifetime: a leader, a diplomat, a soldier in his youth—but never, not once, had he imagined becoming a father to five boys who were not his own.  

Jaster closed his eyes, and with the softness of morning came the memory.  

**Jango.**  

His son. His only child.  

It had been nearly two decades, but loss was a wound that time refused to stitch closed. *A shuttle accident*, they had told him, voices brittle with grief. Somewhere deep in the Jolaris range, a storm had come—sudden and ferocious—and Alderia’s skies had swallowed Jango whole. 

Jaster could still remember the sound of it. The palace had been filled with the silence of disbelief when they broke the news. He had stood in this very spot, the soft white petals of the winter roses fluttering like snow at his feet, and watched as the light drained from the world. *There were no survivors.*  

The boy who had once tugged at Jaster’s sleeves to ask about the galaxy’s endless stars, the boy who had loved the Naldorian fields in summer and the Ivaryn tides in winter—was gone.

Jaster hadn’t had the privilege of breaking down. No, he had been king, and kings were not allowed to fall apart. Not even when the palace halls echoed emptily, devoid of Jango’s laughter.  

Instead, he had been given **Cody, Rex, Fives, Echo, and Jesse**—Jango’s sons, the living pieces of a man taken far too soon. Jaster had buried his grief beneath the weight of a grandfather’s love, raising them not as heirs to a throne but as boys who deserved to be happy. They had become his solace, his redemption.  

Cody, the eldest, wore his crown of responsibility like a second skin. Rex, the second-born, with his disarming grin and glinting eyes, walked the line between playfulness and quiet longing. The twins, Fives and Echo, filled the palace with energy—always underfoot, always in trouble. And Jesse, the youngest, carried his father’s fire in his veins, a boy whose resolve burned brighter than any star.  

Jaster had given them everything. And yet—what kind of legacy had he built for them?

---

A soft knock broke the quiet. Jaster turned, regal in his bearing despite the wear that life had etched onto his face. The sun cast a faint golden glow across the silver in his hair, his blue eyes reflecting a wisdom hard-earned.  

“Your Majesty?”  

The aide bowed low, his tone quiet, respectful. “The matchmaker has arrived. She awaits you in the library.”  

Ah, yes. The matchmaker. A measure born of desperation.  

Jaster sighed softly, one hand smoothing down the front of his coat—a finely woven garment in royal indigo trimmed with silver thread. To an outsider, he looked every bit the monarch: commanding, poised, untouchable. But in the shadow of his sharp jawline lingered exhaustion that no cloak of dignity could quite disguise.  

He turned back once more to the balcony, to the world that stretched far beyond the palace walls. Alderia, his Alderia, had flourished under his rule. But peace, he knew, was fragile. The galaxy was changing. And for the good of the throne, for the future of his people, Cody needed a bride—a match worthy of Alderia’s weight.  

And so, he had called for the matchmaker.  

Jaster straightened, his spine as unbending as the mountains that guarded his kingdom. “I will meet her shortly.”  

The aide bowed again, retreating quietly, leaving Jaster alone once more.  

For a long moment, the king lingered, his gaze drifting back to the horizon where the snow-capped Jolaris Mountains kissed the sky.  

“Forgive me, Jango,” he murmured, his voice soft as the wind that swept over the balcony. “I do this for them.”  

The winter roses rustled faintly below, their pale petals gleaming against the frost-dusted ground.  

With a final breath, Jaster turned and strode back into the palace, his footsteps slow but deliberate. The weight of a king's duty was an old companion. And today, it would guide him once more.

****

The moment (Y/n) stepped onto the landing platform, the weight of Alderia hit her—not physically, but something deeper, a resonance in her bones, as though the planet itself whispered secrets into the chill air. The sky was a pale lavender, soft with the blush of morning, its twin suns still climbing beyond the horizon. Frost edged the paving stones in delicate patterns, shimmering under the orange glow of guiding lights. A cool wind swept across the platform, tugging strands of her dark hair loose from the elegant twist she’d fashioned earlier.

“Focus,” she told herself, clutching the leather strap of her bag tightly against her shoulder.

(Y/n) (Y/L/N) was no stranger to royal summons. Over the years, her work had brought her across countless systems, from the gilded halls of Serenno to the sunlit courts of Naboo. And while reputations varied from planet to planet, hers was solid. The matchmaker of the galaxy, they called her, though there was little romance in it. Matching was business—an art woven with precision, calculation, and a touch of intuition.

Yet Alderia felt... different. Its air carried an ancient weight, its silence deeper than she expected, as though the planet had stopped to watch her.

***

a man with sharp shoulders and a pinched expression. His uniform was immaculate—a deep indigo tunic lined with silver trim—and though his demeanor was courteous, he appraised (Y/n) with quick, analytical eyes.

“Miss (Y/L/N),” he said with a clipped nod. “The King awaits you.”

(Y/n) inclined her head politely, forcing herself to ignore the slight hitch in her chest. She had been briefed on King Jaster: widowed early, robbed of his only son, a ruler both beloved and distant. A man who had borne more loss than most could survive.

Still, standing here—before a palace of towering spires and ancient glass—it was impossible not to feel small.

As she was led into the main corridor, her breath caught.

***

The palace of Valford Prime was magnificent, but not in the way of grand and showy courts she had seen before. It was old, as though carved from the very mountains that loomed over it, a place built to last centuries. Smooth stone walls rose high above her, their surfaces interrupted by arches lined with mosaics—each a depiction of Alderia’s history. Fireflowers wove through the tiles like bursts of flame, their bright scarlet contrasting the muted greys and creams.

Beneath her feet, polished marble stretched out in soft hues of onyx and ivory, cool even through the soles of her boots. Chandeliers hung overhead, forged from glass and silver, casting warm pools of golden light onto the floor. The air smelled faintly of pinewood smoke and winter roses—subtle, familiar scents that spoke of comfort and care.

(Y/n)’s gaze moved to the stained-glass windows that framed the corridor. Each pane glowed softly with the light of morning, their surfaces painted with intricate scenes—warriors standing beside tamed tarkas, scholars presenting star maps, families gathered under twin moons.

“It’s beautiful,” she murmured, unable to stop herself.

The attendant glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, a flicker of approval hidden behind his professionalism. “Alderia has always valued its legacy.”

(Y/n) nodded, though something unspoken lingered in his words. A place so steeped in beauty, so carefully tended—what would happen to it if its legacy was left unfulfilled?

***

She was led through a series of adjoining halls, their silence punctuated only by the occasional hum of droids or the shuffle of guards shifting to attention. Her boots clicked softly against the marble, a sound that seemed unnaturally loud in the stillness.

At last, the attendant paused before a grand wooden door. It was old, carved with swirling patterns of vines and blooming roses, the kind of artistry no one bothered with anymore.

“The king is within,” the attendant said, stepping aside.

(Y/n) swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. Adjusting the collar of her deep emerald coat, she gave herself a moment to breathe, centering the cool calm she wore as armor. It was just another meeting—another royal court. Another job.

She stepped through the door.

***

Warmth greeted her first.

The library was a cathedral of wood and firelight, a room made of shadows and amber glow. Shelves of carved mahogany stretched from floor to ceiling, crammed with tomes whose spines had been worn smooth by centuries of hands. A fire crackled low in a stone hearth to her left, the flames dancing as though pleased to have company. Its glow painted the dark green walls with flickers of gold, spilling light across a pair of leather armchairs positioned before it.

The room smelled of old parchment, leather, and pine smoke, with an undertone of something distinctly Alderian—a faint sweetness, perhaps from the roses (Y/n) had noticed earlier.

Then she saw him.

****

King Jaster stood near the fire, one hand resting on the back of an armchair as though he were only half-present in the room.

The man was every inch the ruler she’d been told to expect. Tall and imposing, with broad shoulders and a straight back that spoke of years spent wearing authority like armor. His hair, streaked with silver, framed a face marked by both strength and sorrow—deep lines etched at the corners of his mouth and eyes. Yet there was something warm in those eyes, a glint of sharp intelligence softened by what might have once been humor.

For a man who had lost so much, Jaster still carried himself with a quiet kind of grace.

When he turned to face her fully, (Y/n) felt the weight of his gaze—not cruel, nor suspicious, but thoughtful, as though he were assessing not just who she was but what she carried with her.

“You are (Y/n) (Y/L/N),” he said, his voice deep, deliberate, yet not unkind. “The matchmaker.”

“I am,” she replied, offering a slight bow of her head. “Your Majesty.”

He studied her for a long moment, his gaze sharp as a vibroblade.

“I’ve heard of your reputation,” he said finally, his voice quieter now, laced with something she couldn’t yet name. “Your work has taken you to many worlds. Alderia is far from most of them.”

“I go where I’m needed.” (Y/n) straightened, meeting his gaze. “And I understand your need is urgent.”

Jaster’s lips twitched slightly, though it was not quite a smile.

“That remains to be seen.” He gestured toward the chair across from his own. “Please, sit.”

****

(Y/n) moved carefully, lowering herself into the chair, her posture poised. The leather creaked faintly beneath her, though the warmth of the fire softened the chill that had clung to her skin since she’d arrived.

Jaster sank into his own seat with a kind of weary elegance, his large hands resting on the arms of the chair. He studied her again—longer this time—his sharp blue eyes seeming to measure something deeper than the surface.

“And what do you know of Alderia, Miss (Y/L/N)?”

(Y/n) met his gaze, calm despite the tension crackling softly in the air. “I know it is a planet unlike most in the Outer Rim. It thrives because its people believe in its beauty, its harmony. I know that legacy matters here.”

“Legacy.” Jaster repeated the word slowly, as though tasting its edges. His gaze turned toward the fire, the flames reflected in his eyes. “You understand, then, what is at stake.”

“I wouldn’t be here otherwise,” she said gently.

The silence stretched between them, heavy and alive with unspoken things. Then, finally, Jaster leaned forward, his expression unreadable.

“Do you believe love can be found, Miss (Y/L/N)? Or is it simply a convenience we dress up in finer clothes?”

The question caught her off guard, though she didn’t show it.

She hesitated for the briefest moment before answering. “I believe love is where it’s most unexpected. It is rarely found—it’s discovered.”

For a heartbeat, the fire crackled louder than the space between them. Then something shifted in Jaster’s expression—a faint softening, perhaps, though it was gone almost as quickly as it came.

“Unexpected,” he murmured, more to himself than to her.

Finally, Jaster leaned back, his gaze settling on her once again.

“Very well, Miss (Y/L/N),” he said quietly, his voice low but steady. “We shall see what it is you discover here.”

(Y/n) let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. The king’s words were not a dismissal, but they were far from a welcome.

This job—this planet—would be unlike any other.

And as she looked at the man before her, cloaked in firelight and the burden of his world, (Y/n) couldn’t help but feel it: the subtle, creeping certainty that Alderia had already begun to change her.

****

(Y/n) had always believed that a palace, no matter how grand, was not the heart of a world—its people were. Alderia, with its quiet beauty and timeless grace, had struck her deeply the moment she arrived, but the palace, however warm its firelight, still carried a weight she could not shake. She needed fresh air, needed to step out beyond the stone walls that hummed with centuries of whispers.

After unpacking her modest belongings in the chamber provided to her—a room lined with thick tapestries and velvet curtains that carried the faint scent of pine—(Y/n) changed into a more practical ensemble. She had traded her formal coat and boots for simpler attire: a dark cloak lined with fur at the collar, gloves to stave off the bite of winter, and soft leather boots that muffled her footsteps as she walked.

Slipping out of the palace had been easier than expected. The guards at the entryway, though vigilant, simply nodded respectfully as she passed. She had seen that nod before—a subtle acknowledgment of her position and, more importantly, a quiet curiosity. The matchmaker. A stranger.

The old town of Valford Prime welcomed her with open arms, though its embrace was brisk. The streets were alive in a way the palace could never be, bustling with the music of life—merchants calling out their wares, children laughing as they darted through narrow alleyways, the rhythmic clatter of hooves on cobblestones. Above it all, twin moons Lumar and Ceera hung low, their pale glow softening the morning light.

***

The old town of Valford Prime was alive, its streets humming with a rhythm all their own—organic, vibrant, and timeless. The crisp winter air had settled into the crevices of cobbled lanes and market stalls, carrying the mingling scents of roasting nuts, fresh-baked bread, and something faintly floral. Overhead, narrow bridges connected weathered buildings, draped in vines hardened by frost, their windows aglow with amber light from within.

(Y/n) lingered at the edge of the square, letting the sounds and sights of this place wash over her. Markets like this were the pulse of any world, but here in Alderia, it felt different. Deliberate. Every moment was savored, every small interaction carried meaning, as though time itself bent to the will of the people.

She absently brushed her fingers over the pendant in her pocket—the winter rose carving gifted to her by the old vendor. Her heart had been warmed by the woman’s quiet reverence for the royal family, but it had also left her unsettled. The king’s grief hung over this planet like morning mist—something beautiful and tragic all at once. She wondered if his grandsons carried that same weight, if they felt the threads of history pulling tight against their every step.

***

The sound of laughter broke through her thoughts—a rich, rolling kind of laughter that came from the belly and pulled others along with it. (Y/n) turned toward its source, weaving through the throngs of market-goers until she spotted a heavy-set man behind a fruit stall. His skin was weathered bronze, his cheeks red from the cold, and his thick hands moved deftly as he peeled a citrus fruit the size of her fist.

“Oi, girl, you look lost!” he called to her with a voice as big as he was. “Or maybe you’re just trying to figure out how one fruit can look so strange.” He grinned and held up the half-peeled fruit, the vibrant orange skin spiraling down in one clean piece.

(Y/n) smiled, the man’s boisterous energy infectious. “I wouldn’t say lost,” she replied as she approached, tilting her head to examine the fruit. “Curious, perhaps.”

“Curious is good,” he said with a wag of his finger, “it means you’re alive. And on a cold day like this, I’ll take life over numb fingers any day.” He sliced off a chunk of the fruit and offered it to her on the flat edge of his knife. “Here. You can’t walk these streets without tasting them.”

(Y/n) hesitated only briefly before accepting the slice, her gloved fingers brushing the cool blade as she took it. The fruit’s juice burst across her tongue—bright, tart, and tangy, like sunlight distilled into flavor.

“That’s…” she paused, blinking in surprise. “Incredible.”

The man barked a laugh that startled a pigeon off a nearby ledge. “Alderian sunfruit, miss! They don’t grow anywhere else, no matter how hard those Coruscanti botanists try. You’ve got to let the soil sing to them.”

(Y/n) couldn’t help but smile. “And does the soil sing to everything here?”

“Everything and everyone,” the man replied, his tone softening. His jovial exterior gave way to something gentler as he wiped his hands on a cloth and leaned against his stall. “That’s why we love this place. Alderia’s got a heart, girl. It’s old, and it’s strong, and we listen to it when it speaks.”

(Y/n) watched him carefully, noting the way his hands stilled and his gaze drifted toward the palace spires visible in the distance. The king. She didn’t need to ask to know that was what he thought of.

“The royal family?” she prompted softly, her words barely more than a breath. “Do they listen too?”

The man straightened, his large frame suddenly still, as though he were measuring her. “The king has given more of himself to this place than most men could,” he said finally. “He’s loved it, fought for it, bled for it—and lost for it, too.” He nodded toward the palace, his eyes soft but resolute. “Jaster’s a good man. The kind you don’t see much of anymore. And the boys? Well, we see their father in them.”

“Jango,” (Y/n) murmured, almost to herself.

The man’s face softened further, and he nodded slowly. “Aye. He was a good lad—brash, brave, and full of fire. The twins take after him the most, you know. Always stirring trouble, but their hearts are in the right place.”

(Y/n) tucked that bit of information away carefully, feeling as though each word, each sentiment, brought her closer to understanding this family she had been tasked with helping. She thanked the man with a sincere smile and turned to leave, but he stopped her with a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Be careful with them,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost reverent. “The royal family—they carry Alderia’s soul on their backs. They’re stronger than most, but even mountains crack under too much weight.”

***

approaching a small wooden stall draped in thick blankets of deep purple and teal. The vendor behind it was an older woman, her cheeks pink from the cold, her hands calloused and strong. A wooden carving of the Jolaris Mountains sat at the corner of the table, its edges smooth from being held. (Y/n)’s gloved fingers brushed it gently, tracing the peaks.

“It’s beautiful,” she said quietly, smiling as she met the woman’s curious gaze. “You carved this?”

The woman tilted her head, clearly surprised to see someone like (Y/n) standing here—someone whose finely tailored cloak marked her as not local. Still, her expression softened into something kind.

“My grandson did,” she said, her voice husky with age but filled with pride. “He’s good with his hands, that boy. Learnt from his father.”

(Y/n) picked up the carving, its weight solid and grounding in her palm. “The Jolaris. They look so much more alive here than they do from the palace.”

The woman chuckled, a dry sound that seemed to carry centuries of wisdom. “The mountains were here before kings. They’ll be here long after. Carve them enough, you might just capture their spirit.”

(Y/n) smiled faintly, placing the carving back down. “How long have you lived here, in Valford Prime?”

The woman’s eyes gleamed. “Born here, just like my mother and her mother before her. Never left Alderia, though my eldest has. Went offworld to Coruscant. Too noisy there for me, but she loves it.”

(Y/n) leaned forward slightly, as though the question might slip from her lips if she wasn’t careful. “And the king? What do you think of him?”

It was a bold question. Too bold, maybe. But (Y/n) had always believed the truth of a royal family lay with its people.

The woman didn’t answer right away. Instead, she turned her attention to the carving, running a finger along its edge. When she finally spoke, her voice carried a reverence tempered by understanding.

“King Jaster has seen more loss than most men would survive,” she said simply, looking up to meet (Y/n)’s gaze with eyes sharp as glass. “But he still stands. That’s no small thing.”

(Y/n) held her breath for a moment. He still stands.

“And his grandsons?” she asked, her tone gentler now, though she could feel the woman’s watchful gaze.

The woman’s lips twitched into a faint smile. “The boys are the heart of Alderia, even if they don’t know it yet. Cody carries the world on his back like his father. Rex? Well, he’s a storm—wild but good for the earth when he settles. The twins are trouble, but trouble’s not always bad, is it?” She chuckled to herself, her hands busily folding a thick blanket. “And Jesse—ah, the youngest has his father’s fire. That boy will burn bright when his time comes.”

Something in (Y/n)’s chest tightened as the woman spoke. There was no need to ask about their late father. Jango’s absence hung between the words unspoken, like a ghost that refused to rest.

****

(Y/n)’s steps were slower as she left the market square, her mind full. The fruit vendor’s words lingered in her thoughts, their simplicity carrying the kind of wisdom she had only ever found in people who lived close to the earth.

As she turned into a narrow alleyway, the scent of roasting chestnuts caught her attention. A small, sputtering fire crackled under an iron grate where an elderly man turned a pan slowly, humming a tune so low it blended with the pop of the coals. His clothes were rough, patched at the knees, and his cap was pulled low to shield his face from the cold. Yet his motions were unhurried, deliberate—as though each chestnut deserved his full care.

(Y/n) paused, her hands tucked into the warmth of her cloak. “That song,” she said quietly, tilting her head, “it’s beautiful. Where is it from?”

The man didn’t look up right away, his gnarled fingers moving with practiced ease. “Alderian lullaby,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. “My grandmother sang it to me when I was small.” Finally, he lifted his head, his sharp eyes—clouded slightly with age—fixing on hers. “You’re not from here.”

“No,” (Y/n) admitted softly, stepping closer as the fire cast flickering shadows on the alley walls. “I’m not.”

“And yet you ask questions like you wish you were,” he said, his eyes narrowing slightly as though peering into her. “Why?”

“I like to understand,” she replied. “People, places. The stories they carry.”

The man’s mouth twitched, not quite a smile. “Stories are heavy things, girl. You best know what you’re asking to hold.”

(Y/n) felt a chill that had nothing to do with the air as she crouched beside the fire. “And what of the king’s story? Or his family’s?”

The man turned the pan once more, the flames licking at the edges. “You’ve met him, haven’t you?”

She nodded.

“Then you’ve seen it already.” He handed her a chestnut wrapped in a strip of cloth to protect her fingers. “Grief leaves marks on a man, but love does too. Jaster carries both. And those boys of his—” He paused, staring at the fire for a long moment, his voice dropping into something reverent. “They carry their father’s shadow like a torch. Bright and heavy.”

(Y/n) accepted the chestnut, its warmth spreading into her palm.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

The old man gave her a slow, meaningful nod before turning back to his fire, the lullaby drifting up again like smoke curling into the sky.

***

“Here, miss,” the woman said suddenly, pulling (Y/n) from her thoughts. She held up a small, carved pendant—a tiny replica of the winter rose, smooth and delicate. “For you.”

(Y/n) blinked, startled. “Oh, I couldn’t—”

“Nonsense.” The woman pressed it into (Y/n)’s palm, her weathered fingers surprisingly gentle. “It’s a gift. A blessing, of sorts.”

(Y/n) closed her hand around it, the small carving warm from the woman’s touch. “Thank you,” she whispered, the words soft but heartfelt.

The woman nodded, a knowing glint in her eyes. “The winter rose blooms when it’s least expected. You’d do well to remember that.”

(Y/n) stared at her for a long moment, something unspoken shifting in her chest.

***

As (Y/n) walked back toward the palace, her fingers brushed over the pendant in her pocket and the flower in the other. The stories she had gathered today weighed on her, pressing against her ribs like something alive.

The royal family carried the soul of this world, she realized. The people saw them not as rulers, but as guardians—as the stewards of something ancient and sacred. And yet, for all their strength, there was fragility in that reverence, a quiet fear that too much weight might cause even the strongest to crumble.

The thought unnerved her, and yet it made her purpose here clearer than ever. She would need to tread carefully—because the stories of Alderia were alive, and they were watching.

****

The morning sun streamed through the high-arched windows of the palace, gilding the stone floors in warm light as (Y/n) walked briskly down the east corridor. Her boots tapped lightly against the polished marble, the sound punctuating the low murmur of palace activity—guards shifting in their stations, the occasional scuff of servant footsteps, the faint clang of dishes being prepared in kitchens beyond the hall. She could smell freshly baked bread mixed with the sharp, clean scent of frost from the gardens beyond, a reminder of the world waiting quietly outside.

Despite the serene grandeur of her surroundings, her mind was far less settled. Her walk through the old town the day before still lingered in her thoughts—every word the locals had shared, every unspoken weight they had carried. The royal family—they carry Alderia’s soul. She had begun to see why, and she couldn’t help but feel a strange kinship with the people who spoke of their rulers with such reverence.

And today, she would meet the eldest of them—the weight bearer himself.

***

(Y/n) stood outside a set of ornate double doors, the dark wood carved with intricate patterns of twisting vines and winter roses. The library she had been ushered to yesterday seemed intimate in comparison. This room felt formal, imposing. A meeting chamber for royalty. She shifted her weight, brushing imaginary wrinkles from her sleeves, before straightening and raising her chin. Whatever she felt—curiosity, unease, determination—would stay locked firmly beneath the polished surface she wore so well.

A soft knock. The doors creaked open.

A steward gestured her forward, his tone courteous but impersonal. “The Crown Prince will meet you now.”

The Crown Prince. Just the title felt like a stone laid upon her chest, as though the man beyond this door was more responsibility than person. (Y/n) stepped inside.

***

The room was enormous, its high ceilings supported by stone pillars that swept upward like trees in an ancient forest. A long table stretched across the center, its surface immaculate save for a neatly arranged pile of star charts and datapads at one end. Pale curtains hung on either side of the tall windows, filtering sunlight until it cast faint gold patterns across the polished floor.

At the far end, near one of the windows, stood Cody.

(Y/n) recognized him instantly—not from photographs, but because he looked exactly as she imagined he would. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and carried himself with a kind of effortless authority that couldn’t be taught. He wore a high-collared tunic of deep navy and silver, the colors of Alderia, and his hair was neatly cut, though a faint line of stubble softened the sharp angles of his jaw.

He was not handsome in the way of effortless charm, as (Y/n) suspected Rex might be, but there was a gravity about him—something anchored and unyielding, as though he belonged to the very stone of the palace itself.

As she approached, Cody turned, his movements precise, controlled. His gaze landed on her, clear and cool as glass.

“Miss (Y/L/N),” he said. His voice was calm, even polite, but it carried an edge—like a door that wasn’t entirely open. “You’ve come early.”

(Y/n) offered a small, measured smile, hands clasped in front of her. “A good matchmaker learns to value time, Your Highness.”

The faintest flicker of something—perhaps amusement—crossed Cody’s face before it was gone. He nodded to the steward, who gave a bow and silently exited the room, leaving them alone.

“Please.” Cody gestured to a small sitting area by the window where two chairs and a low table waited. “Sit.”

****

(Y/n) took her seat with practiced poise, watching Cody as he moved to sit across from her. He lowered himself into the chair with a sense of measured purpose. It struck her then that everything about him—the way he stood, the way he moved, even the way he sat—was deliberate, as though he had rehearsed every step of his life.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Cody looked at her, not coldly, but with the unblinking focus of someone who was used to examining others. It wasn’t a cruel stare, but it wasn’t kind either. It was… neutral.

“Do you enjoy your room?” he asked finally, the words careful, almost perfunctory.

“Yes, thank you,” (Y/n) replied. “It’s beautiful. I walked the old town yesterday as well. Your planet—your people—are extraordinary.”

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Cody’s tone was light, but the faintest edge of skepticism brushed against it, as though he were testing her.

(Y/n) smiled faintly, folding her hands in her lap. “I wasn’t looking for anything. I was listening.”

That seemed to catch him off guard, though he hid it well. He tilted his head slightly, his brow furrowing just enough for her to notice. “Listening?”

“Yes.” She kept her voice calm, steady, though she chose each word deliberately. “I find that people tell you the most important things when you listen—not just to what they say, but how they say it.”

“Is that how you work?” Cody asked, his gaze steady. “You listen and decide who fits where?”

There it is. The resistance she had expected, the skepticism carefully veiled behind civility. She leaned forward slightly, holding his gaze. “I don’t decide anything, Your Highness. I find connections. The decision is yours.”

His mouth quirked faintly, though it wasn’t quite a smile. “You make it sound simple.”

“It’s not,” (Y/n) said honestly, letting a hint of warmth into her tone. “But neither is ruling a planet, I imagine.”

For the briefest moment, (Y/n) thought she saw a flicker of something real—a weariness that lived beneath his armor—but it disappeared almost instantly. Cody shifted slightly in his chair, straightening, his posture becoming even more rigid.

“I’ll be candid, Miss (Y/L/N),” he said, his voice cool. “I didn’t ask for you to come here.”

(Y/n) blinked, the words settling like stones in her chest. “I understand. But you must know why I’m here.”

Cody’s jaw tightened faintly, and his gaze drifted to the window. Outside, the light caught on the snowy peaks of the Jolaris Mountains, and for a moment, he seemed far away. “I know why he brought you here,” he murmured. The way he said it—he—was laced with quiet frustration, though there was no disrespect in it.

“The king,” (Y/n) said softly.

“Yes.” Cody’s gaze snapped back to her, sharp and unwavering. “I know my duty. I’ve known it since I was a child. But I have no interest in parading myself for your lists and your calculations.”

(Y/n) felt her throat tighten, though she refused to let it show. Instead, she smiled—gently, without condescension. “I don’t think you are a man who would ever parade himself, Your Highness.”

That caught him again, though he masked it quickly. For a heartbeat, the two of them simply looked at one another, the quiet stretching like a rope pulled taut. Cody was not unkind, nor was he arrogant—but there was a wall around him, thick and unyielding, built from years of expectation.

***

Finally, he stood, smoothing his hand over the edge of his coat. “I’ll cooperate with my grandfather’s wishes,” he said, his tone measured once more. “But don’t expect me to make it easy.”

(Y/n) rose as well, meeting him at eye level, her expression calm but unwavering. “I never expect anything, Your Highness. I observe. And I listen.”

Cody looked at her for a long moment, as though trying to decide whether her words carried sincerity or cleverness. Then he nodded, almost imperceptibly. “Good day, Miss (Y/L/N).”

With that, he turned, his footsteps firm and deliberate as he strode toward the door. (Y/n) let out a slow breath as the latch clicked shut behind him.

The meeting had not been unkind, but it had left her unsettled. Cody was not a man who would ever allow himself to be easily understood, and yet, beneath his quiet resistance, (Y/n) could feel it: the weight of duty pressing against him like stone.

She looked out the window to the Jolaris peaks, watching the sunlight spill across their icy crowns, and wondered how long even a man like Cody could carry such a burden alone.

****

The meeting with Cody lingered in (Y/n)’s mind like a splinter she couldn’t remove. The prince had been courteous, polite even, but distant in a way that left her feeling like a mere afterthought in his day. There had been no warmth to his words, no openness to his gaze—just walls, high and unyielding, built brick by brick from a lifetime of expectation.  

Still, she couldn’t be angry. How could she? Cody wasn’t dismissive out of cruelty but necessity. Duty had shaped him into a man who wore his responsibility like armor, polished to perfection but heavy to bear. *The weight of a crown isn’t always gold,* she thought, as she let her feet carry her down the wide palace hallways.

The corridor she wandered into now seemed different—quieter, with an air of reverence. The faintest echo of her footsteps traveled down the stone walls, and she slowed her pace, the silence urging her to tread softly. This part of the palace, it seemed, belonged to memories. 

***

Paintings lined the walls, gilded frames glowing faintly in the golden light spilling through tall, arched windows. Each canvas was a piece of history frozen in time—kings and queens of Alderia, some stoic, others kind, their eyes following her as she passed. The faces seemed alive, as though they were watching her closely, curious about this stranger who dared walk their halls.

(Y/n) stopped in front of one particular painting. It was a portrait of a young man with blue-gray eyes and a confident, roguish smile. His dark hair was swept back in a way that suggested he hadn’t cared too much for formality. He wore a prince’s coat—rich navy blue, lined with silver—but the way he slouched just slightly told her that the man beneath the clothes had been carefree.  

“Jango,” she whispered under her breath, as though the name might summon the man himself. It had to be him; the resemblance to the current princes was unmistakable.  

Her gaze softened as she took in every detail of the painting, from the hint of mischief in Jango’s smirk to the worn edge of a leather glove on his left hand. *A man who was never meant to be still,* she thought, *and yet here he is.* She wondered how much of him remained in his sons—how much of that fire had been inherited.

She sighed softly, feeling that familiar knot of responsibility tug at her chest. This family, this planet—it was all so much larger than what she could see. And yet here she was, standing in the middle of it.

“Admiring the handsome ones, are we?”

***

The voice broke through the quiet like a spark, warm and teasing, startling (Y/n) just enough that she turned sharply, her breath catching in her throat.  

There, leaning lazily against the stone archway she’d just passed, was **Rex**.  

For a moment, (Y/n) could only blink, as though the man before her had been conjured straight from the painting. He looked startlingly like Jango, though his face was less polished—his jaw was scruffed with golden stubble, and his blond hair was unruly, strands falling stubbornly over his forehead. His posture was relaxed, almost lazy, as though the weight of the world that sat so heavily on Cody’s shoulders didn’t exist here. 

And then there were his eyes—blue-gray like a stormy sea, alive with something (Y/n) couldn’t name.  

“Forgive me,” he said, pushing off the wall and stepping into the light filtering through the window. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your staring contest.”  

(Y/n) found her voice, though it came out more measured than she intended. “I wasn’t staring. I was… observing.”

The corner of Rex’s mouth quirked upward in a half-smile, one brow arching in obvious amusement. “Observation looks a lot like admiration from where I’m standing.”

(Y/n)’s lips pressed together, though she couldn’t help the hint of color that warmed her cheeks. “And you are…?”

He grinned wider at that, as though enjoying her reaction. “I’m Rex,” he said simply, inclining his head in a mock bow. “Second-born spare to the throne of Alderia, expert at sneaking out of meetings I don’t want to attend, and—apparently—the cause of your current blush.”

(Y/n) straightened, smoothing her hands over her cloak as though brushing away the fluster she felt bubbling beneath her calm exterior. “I wasn’t blushing.”

“You’re blushing now,” Rex said, his tone teasing but gentle, his gaze lingering on her face as though he were memorizing it.  

(Y/n) exhaled slowly, regaining her composure. “And I wasn’t staring at you either. I was looking at the painting.”

“Of my father.” Rex’s voice softened just slightly at the mention of Jango, his teasing tone taking on something quieter. (Y/n) glanced up, noticing the way his gaze flicked briefly to the portrait behind her, his smile dimming ever so slightly.  

“Yes,” she said softly. “He seems… remarkable.” 

Rex’s gaze lingered on the painting a moment longer before he looked back at her, his smile returning, though this time it carried something softer—something real. “He was.”

There was a pause—long enough for (Y/n) to feel the air shift between them, subtle but certain. She hadn’t expected this—a meeting so unguarded, so unexpectedly *personal.* For all Rex’s casual charm, there was something in his eyes that she recognized: a quiet depth, a place where lightness gave way to something unspoken.

“I haven’t seen you around before,” Rex said finally, breaking the moment but not the connection. “You’re not palace staff, and you don’t look like one of Cody’s political friends.” He tilted his head, curiosity shining through. “Who are you?”

(Y/n) hesitated, feeling that this moment—this first impression—was delicate. It was rare to meet someone who didn’t immediately view her as *the matchmaker*. Rare to meet someone who simply saw her.

“My name is (Y/n) (Y/L/N),” she said carefully, holding his gaze. “And you’re right—I’m not political. I’ve been brought here to… assist.”  

“With what?”

“Your brother.”  

Something flickered across Rex’s face—surprise first, then understanding. His grin returned, slow and unmistakable. “Ah, so you’re the *matchmaker.*”  

The word sat between them, heavy and familiar, but Rex said it without mockery. If anything, there was a hint of intrigue in his tone, as though she’d just become far more interesting.  

(Y/n) nodded, though her expression stayed composed. “I am.”

Rex crossed his arms loosely, one brow arching again. “And how’s that going for you so far?”

(Y/n) allowed herself a small smile, though her thoughts returned to her meeting with Cody—the walls, the formality. “It’s… early.”

Rex chuckled, the sound warm and genuine, as though she’d said something funny without intending to. “That bad, huh?”

“I didn’t say that.”  

“You didn’t have to.” He grinned again, his eyes glinting mischievously. “Cody’s about as easy to talk to as a stone wall, but you’ll get used to him. He’s a good man under all that steel.”

(Y/n) felt a faint tug at the corner of her mouth. “You say that like you’re nothing like him.”

“I’m not,” Rex said with a shrug. “At least, not on the surface.”  

The way he said it made her pause. It was casual, dismissive almost, but (Y/n) could feel the truth woven into it. For all his lightness, for all his charm, there were pieces of Rex that ran far deeper than he let on.

***

Silence settled between them again—not awkward, not tense, but *there*. (Y/n) felt it in her chest, a kind of awareness she couldn’t explain. She studied Rex’s face as though searching for something unspoken, and for a moment, she thought he might be looking for the same in her.  

“Well,” Rex said finally, breaking the quiet with a grin that didn’t quite meet his eyes. “I’ll let you get back to observing things that aren’t me.”  

(Y/n) rolled her eyes softly, though her smile lingered. “Thank you for your generosity.”

“Anytime.” Rex took a step back, but his gaze lingered on her, his expression thoughtful in a way she hadn’t expected. Then, with a slight nod, he turned and disappeared around the corner, his footsteps soft but steady.

***

(Y/n) let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Her gaze drifted back to Jango’s painting, but the man in the portrait felt less like the focus now.  

Instead, it was Rex’s face—his grin, his eyes, the way he looked at her like he’d seen something worth remembering—that stayed with her.

And for reasons she couldn’t explain, she felt something shift within herself, subtle but certain—like the first flake of snow before a storm.  

***

### **The Ballroom of Invitations**

The sun dipped low in the Alderian sky, pouring golden light through the palace’s tall, arched windows. (Y/n) sat at a wide desk positioned in one of the palace’s grand halls, a makeshift workspace surrounded by towering shelves of tomes and thick velvet drapes. The room itself had been transformed under her hands: holoscreens hovered in mid-air, glowing softly as they displayed dossiers, planetary maps, and cultural breakdowns. A meticulous array of datapads sat in perfect order on the desk, alongside a steaming cup of tea now long forgotten.

(Y/n)’s brow furrowed slightly as she glanced over her list, her stylus tapping rhythmically against the desk. The names, their titles, their descriptions—it was all beginning to blur together, but she couldn’t afford to overlook even the smallest detail.  

The day had been relentless. Invitations had to be sent across Alderia and beyond: noble daughters from the sprawling estates in the Naldorian Reach, princesses from neighboring systems, and heirs from dignified lineages in far-off star clusters. She’d read through their profiles, cross-referenced family reputations, and considered how they might fit into Alderia’s unspoken rhythm. She had no intention of bringing anyone here who couldn’t understand this place—this *weight.*  

And yet, as she set down the stylus and pressed her fingers to her temples, exhaustion began to settle into her shoulders. The names were only words on a page, and despite her experience—despite her confidence in her ability—she felt a strange unease. *How do you find someone to fit a man like Cody,* she wondered, *when the walls around him are stronger than steel?*  

The room’s silence was punctuated only by the occasional hiss of a hovering holo shutting itself down as she dismissed the final dossier for the day. Satisfied, she leaned back in her chair and rubbed her eyes, the last light of day painting the room in fiery hues of orange and gold. She had done her part. Tomorrow, the nobles and dignitaries would begin arriving, and the task of introductions would begin.  

The sound of slow, deliberate footsteps cut through the quiet.

(Y/n) turned instinctively, her hand lowering from her face as a familiar voice echoed across the marble floor.  

“Well, would you look at this,” Rex drawled, his tone light, teasing, but edged with something more curious. “I thought this was the ballroom. Turns out it’s just the nerve center of a galactic operation.” 

(Y/n) sighed softly, though she couldn’t help the faint tug of a smile at the corner of her lips as Rex stepped further into the room. He wasn’t wearing the finely tailored uniform she’d seen on him yesterday. Instead, he wore something softer—a loose navy tunic rolled at the sleeves and dark trousers, an outfit that made him look far less like a prince and far more like a man at ease with himself. His golden hair was still a mess, as though he’d run his fingers through it carelessly, and his ever-present half-smile suggested that he was always on the brink of mischief.  

“Shouldn’t you be doing something more important?” (Y/n) asked, leaning back slightly as Rex perched himself on the edge of a nearby table, completely unbothered by the papers and datapads spread across its surface.

“I could ask you the same question,” he countered, tilting his head. His gaze lingered briefly on the organized chaos of her work before settling back on her face, sharp and curious. “But judging by all of *this,*” he gestured vaguely to the glowing holoscreens, “it seems you’ve already taken over half the palace.”  

(Y/n) rolled her eyes, though her smile lingered. “It’s called preparation. You should try it sometime.”

“Preparation,” Rex repeated, as though testing the word, before shaking his head with a grin. “I prefer improvisation. It’s more fun.”

“I’m sure your tutors loved that.”

“Oh, they adored me,” he replied, his tone deadpan but his grin widening when (Y/n) huffed a soft laugh. “I was their favorite.” 

“Of course you were,” (Y/n) murmured, shaking her head as she began to straighten a few of the datapads before her. She felt Rex watching her, though not in a way that unsettled her. It wasn’t the kind of assessing gaze she had encountered so many times before—calculating, cold, expecting something of her. No, Rex’s gaze was warm, curious, as though he was looking for something *real* in her.  

“You’ve been working all day, haven’t you?” he asked after a moment, his voice softer this time. “I don’t think I’ve seen anyone push this hard since Cody spent a month reorganizing the kingdom’s census data.”

(Y/n) paused, her fingers brushing over the edge of a datapad as she glanced up at him. “It’s important work.”

“I’m sure it is,” Rex replied, tilting his head slightly as he studied her. “But it’s also going to be here tomorrow, and the day after that. You, on the other hand, look like you could use a break.”

(Y/n) arched a brow, though her voice remained measured. “And I suppose you’re here to offer one?”

“Exactly.” Rex pushed himself off the table with the easy grace of someone who had never felt out of place in his own skin. “Consider me your palace guide.”

“My *what?*”

“Palace guide,” he repeated, as though the term were perfectly obvious. “You know, someone to show you all the things you’re missing while you’re busy playing matchmaker.” He grinned as he stepped closer, his hands stuffed casually into his pockets. “You’ve seen the ballroom. You’ve seen the library. But have you seen the royal snowball arsenal?”  

(Y/n) blinked. “The what?”

“You heard me,” he said, his grin widening as though he enjoyed her confusion. “It’s top-secret, of course. State-of-the-art construction, unparalleled in firepower. Only the bravest souls dare wield its might.”

(Y/n) stared at him, torn between disbelief and amusement. “You’re joking.”

“I’m *serious*,” Rex replied, his voice low and dramatic, though his eyes sparkled with laughter. “It’s a critical part of the palace defenses during winter. You never know when an ambush might occur.”

Against her better judgment, (Y/n) felt a laugh bubble in her chest—a soft, genuine sound that startled her as much as it seemed to please Rex. “I highly doubt that’s on the palace schematics.”

“That’s because I built it myself,” he said proudly, before extending a hand toward her. “Come on. I’m not letting you spend another minute in here surrounded by datapads and dead nobles.”  

(Y/n) hesitated, her gaze flicking between him and her work. For a moment, she considered refusing. There were still messages to send, details to finalize, and she didn’t have the luxury of—  

“Don’t think too hard about it,” Rex said softly, drawing her attention back to him. “It’s just a walk. A little break from the world you’re trying to fix.”

His words settled in her chest, and suddenly, the decision didn’t seem quite so difficult. Slowly, she pushed herself up from her chair and smoothed her cloak, trying not to let him see the small smile pulling at her lips.  

“All right,” she said finally, meeting his gaze. “But if this so-called arsenal doesn’t exist—”

“You’ll never trust me again,” Rex finished with a grin, his voice warm and teasing as he gestured for her to follow. “I’m willing to take that risk.”

(Y/n) shook her head softly, though there was no hiding the faint amusement tugging at her mouth as she followed him toward the hallway.  

She didn’t know what it was about him—this prince who didn’t act like a prince—that unsettled her in ways she couldn’t explain. There was something light about him, as though he carried the weight of the world differently than anyone she had ever met. He made her forget, for just a moment, the impossible task waiting for her tomorrow.

(Y/n) walked alongside Rex through the winding palace halls, her footsteps quick as she tried to match his longer strides. There was something carefree about him, a quiet confidence that made her feel both at ease and on edge all at once. The grandness of the palace around them seemed less imposing with him beside her, the cold stone softened by his lighthearted presence.

“You didn’t tell me where we’re going,” (Y/n) said after a moment, her voice holding a note of suspicion.

Rex turned to glance at her, his mouth quirking upward into a playful smile. “I thought I did. The royal snowball arsenal.”

(Y/n) sighed, though it wasn’t an exasperated sound so much as it was one of reluctant amusement. “You do realize I don’t believe a word of this, right?”

“Trust me, it’s real,” Rex said, his tone mock-serious as they passed yet another corridor. “But before we get there, we have to pass through… enemy territory.”

“Enemy territory?”

Rex’s eyes gleamed with a spark of mischief as they turned a corner into a long, airy hallway. Sunlight streamed in through wide windows, catching the frost-rimmed edges of the glass. Tapestries swayed slightly as cold drafts snuck in through unseen cracks. Something in the air felt... alive.  

(Y/n) slowed slightly, her gaze shifting warily from side to side. “What do you mean by—”

The words hadn’t fully left her mouth before a snowball, perfectly round and startlingly fast, flew from nowhere and hit Rex square in the shoulder.  

“Ambush!” Rex shouted dramatically, staggering back with a hand pressed to his chest as though mortally wounded. “(Y/n)! They’ve got me!”

(Y/n) blinked, wide-eyed, before another snowball arced toward her. She barely managed to duck in time, her heart skipping a beat as it smacked into the wall with a dull thud.  

“Oh, no,” Rex groaned, still clutching his chest in exaggerated agony. “It’s worse than I thought. The twins are here.”

“The what—”

“Boys!” Rex suddenly shouted, his voice echoing through the hall. “This is treason! You’re attacking a guest of the palace!”

Laughter, wild and unrepentant, rang out from somewhere above. (Y/n) tilted her head back, searching for its source, and spotted two identical faces peering down from a narrow ledge built into the wall near the ceiling. Both grins were identical—a mix of childlike glee and calculated mischief that only the truly confident could pull off.

“*Treason*?” one of them called back, his voice rich with laughter. “Oh, come now, Rex. That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

“Only *you* would call it dramatic, Fives,” Rex muttered, brushing snow from his shoulder with a sigh.  

The other twin elbowed his brother lightly, smirking down at (Y/n). “You’re missing the important detail. Who’s this, Rex? She looks… suspiciously dignified for your company.”

(Y/n), who had been frozen in surprise, blinked at the pair of them. They were younger than Rex, perhaps early twenties, with sharp features softened by their shared mischief. Where Rex had golden-blond hair, theirs was a darker shade, more brown with hints of copper that caught the light. And though they were identical in face and voice, there was something subtly different about the way they carried themselves—Fives, the louder of the two, had a sharper edge to his grin, while the other, Echo, watched her with an assessing curiosity that didn’t quite match his brother’s antics.

“I’m (Y/n),” she said finally, brushing a stray snowflake off her coat. “The… matchmaker.”

The twins froze for half a second before Fives barked out a laugh. “The *what*?”

“You heard her,” Rex cut in dryly, crossing his arms as he looked up at them. “She’s here to find Cody the perfect bride.”

Fives groaned dramatically, flopping forward over the ledge so that his arms dangled down. “Poor Cody. He’ll have to practice smiling again.”

Echo shoved Fives’ shoulder, though he smirked faintly. “Ignore him. You’ll find he has a unique talent for talking nonsense.” 

“Unique *and* unmatched,” Fives added smugly, pushing himself upright. “Now, (Y/n)—did Rex tell you about the snowball arsenal? Because you’re standing in it.”

(Y/n) turned sharply to Rex, raising an eyebrow. “This is the arsenal?”

Rex shrugged, entirely unbothered. “Technically, it’s their arsenal. I just like to call it mine.”

Before (Y/n) could respond, Fives lobbed another snowball down, this time aiming for Rex’s head. Rex sidestepped smoothly, the snowball smacking harmlessly into the floor with a wet splat.  

“*Missed.*” Rex smirked, shaking his head as though deeply disappointed.  

“Coward,” Fives retorted. “You’ll have to come up here and fight us properly!”

Echo leaned over the edge, his sharp gaze landing on (Y/n) again. “Unless you’d like to join our side, Miss Matchmaker. Rex tends to lose these battles.”  

(Y/n) looked from one twin to the other, still processing the absurdity of the situation. Here she was, standing in a centuries-old palace, being ambushed by two grown men who looked as though they’d never left their boyhood antics behind. Yet instead of annoyance, she felt the laughter bubbling inside her again—unexpected, uncontrollable.

“This…” she said slowly, unable to stop the smile pulling at her lips, “might be the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever witnessed.”

Fives grinned triumphantly. “And the most fun, I bet.”

Rex sighed, though (Y/n) saw the way his own mouth twitched with the effort to suppress a smile. “Congratulations,” he called up to them, his voice dry. “You’ve scared away the matchmaker. Now she’ll run back to the library and tell Cody he’s doomed.”

“Oh, we *like* her,” Fives said, nudging Echo. “She’ll fit in perfectly.”

Echo nodded once, his expression calm but his eyes glinting with mischief. “Be careful, Miss (Y/n). Rex has a habit of pulling people into trouble.”

(Y/n) glanced at Rex, who was now watching her with his arms still crossed, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. “Is that so?”

“Don’t listen to them,” Rex said smoothly. “They’re just jealous because I’m taller.”

Fives’ outraged “*What?!*” was followed immediately by Echo’s bark of laughter, but (Y/n) didn’t hear it. Her gaze was still on Rex, who was watching her in that same way he had in the hallway the day before—curious, almost searching. It made her stomach flip, though she wasn’t sure why.

“Come on,” Rex said after a beat, offering her his arm as though nothing had happened. “Let’s get out of the line of fire before they bring in reinforcements.”

(Y/n) hesitated for only a second before slipping her hand through his arm. The action felt natural, though it startled her how *easy* it was to be around him.  

“They’re not what I expected,” she murmured as they walked away, the twins’ laughter echoing behind them.

Rex chuckled softly. “They never are.”

(Y/n) glanced up at him, her smile softening. “And what about you, Rex? Are you what people expect?”

Rex looked down at her, his grin faltering for just a moment before returning—softer this time, but not insincere. “Depends on who’s asking.”

(Y/n) said nothing to that, though her hand lingered on his arm a little longer than it needed to.

And neither of them noticed the twins watching from above, their eyes sharp and knowing as they disappeared back into their hiding place.

****

The days fell into an intricate rhythm, one that (Y/n) hadn’t anticipated but found herself adapting to with startling ease. The weight of her work—the lists, the arrangements, the schedules—had grown heavier as the reality of what lay ahead came into sharper focus. In four weeks, the palace would host the grand Christmas ball. The event wasn’t just a glittering celebration; it was a turning point, a moment where the crown prince of Alderia would dance with his possible future bride.

(Y/n) had reviewed the guest list over and over again—princesses, noblewomen, heirs from far-reaching systems. Their faces were etched into her memory, their histories neatly filed away in her mind. Soon, she would meet them in person, would usher them into carefully curated sessions designed to test compatibility, poise, and connection. It was the kind of meticulous work she was accustomed to, the kind that required focus, control, and precision.

But her carefully structured days were being sabotaged. And it was entirely Rex’s fault.

***

(Y/n) leaned over her desk, a furrow creasing her brow as she moved small holocards into neat rows. Each card bore the name of a potential candidate, along with her respective lineage, planetary origin, and other relevant details. The sunlight streaming through the wide window nearby highlighted her deliberate movements—the press of her fingertip against the hovering cards, the slow nod as she considered placements.

“Focused, aren’t we?”

(Y/n) jumped, the voice pulling her sharply out of her thoughts. She turned to find Rex leaning casually in the doorway, arms crossed, his grin unabashed. He was dressed in another simple tunic, this one the color of deep wine, his sleeves pushed up as if to deliberately resist the palace’s insistence on formality. His blond hair was as unruly as ever, as though he’d ridden through a windstorm and hadn’t bothered to fix it.  

“Rex,” (Y/n) sighed, straightening slowly as she tried to school her expression into one of neutrality. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to watch you mumble to yourself about someone named Lady Arla and decide that you need rescuing.” He pushed off the doorway, his boots making a soft sound against the marble floor as he approached.

“I don’t need rescuing.” (Y/n) turned back to her holocards, pretending to be entirely unfazed. “I’m working. You should try it sometime.”

He gave a mock gasp of offense, pressing a hand to his chest as though wounded. “I *do* work. I’m a vital member of this palace.”

(Y/n) rolled her eyes, though a smile threatened to tug at her lips. “Vital for causing chaos, perhaps.”

“Ah, you *do* see my value,” Rex said, grinning as he stepped closer to her desk and leaned forward, peering at the hovering cards with mock interest. “Who’s this? Lady Talia of Serenno?” He prodded at one of the holos, tilting his head. “She looks very… composed.”

“Rex,” (Y/n) warned, though her voice lacked any real bite. She reached to swipe his hand away, but he was faster, sliding the card to the side like a mischievous child.  

“Do you know what you need?” Rex asked, straightening up and turning to face her. His blue-gray eyes gleamed with a spark that made her wary. “A break.”

“I don’t have time for a break,” (Y/n) replied firmly, her hand hovering mid-air as she tried to re-organize the cards. “The Christmas ball is in four weeks, and everything must be perfect.”

“Perfect can wait an afternoon,” he shot back easily, moving to stand between her and her work. “And besides, you’ll work better if you clear your head. I’m taking you to the royal sledding races.”

(Y/n) blinked at him, confused. “The what?”

“Sledding races,” Rex repeated, grinning like a man who had already won. “It’s tradition. Every year around Christmas, we—meaning me, the twins, Jesse, and occasionally Cody—risk life and limb to see who can hurtle themselves down a hill of packed snow the fastest.”

“That doesn’t sound like a royal tradition,” (Y/n) said dryly, folding her arms.

“It’s *our* tradition,” Rex countered, his grin softening slightly. “It started when we were boys, back when Grandfather let us run wild in the snow. Now, it’s a matter of pride.”

“I still don’t see what this has to do with me.”

“You’re coming,” Rex said simply. “As my sledding partner.”

(Y/n) gave him a look. “No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

Rex leaned closer, lowering his voice as though sharing a secret. “If you say yes, I promise to leave your work alone for the rest of the day.”

(Y/n) hesitated, narrowing her eyes at him suspiciously. “The rest of the *day*?”

Rex held up his hands, mock-serious. “Scout’s honor.”

(Y/n) sighed, her resolve softening under the sheer weight of his persistence. “Fine. But if I fall off whatever contraption you’re calling a sled, I’ll blame you.”

“Deal,” Rex said cheerfully, already turning toward the door. “Come on, matchmaker. We’ve got a hill to conquer.”

***

The cold hit her first. Crisp and sharp, it nipped at (Y/n)’s cheeks and nose as Rex led her outside onto the sprawling palace grounds. Snow blanketed everything—thick, pristine, and sparkling under the pale light of the Alderian sun. The gardens, so carefully tended, had transformed into a winter wonderland, their fountains frozen into sculptures of ice.

In the distance, (Y/n) spotted a wide hill sloping down toward the forest edge. Its surface had been packed down and smoothed by use, with a handful of sleds—sleek wooden contraptions reinforced with metal runners—lined up at its crest.

Rex led her up the hill, his boots crunching rhythmically through the snow. “All right,” he said once they reached the top, turning to gesture grandly at the sleds. “Behold the crown jewel of Alderian winter sports.”

(Y/n) glanced down the slope and felt her stomach drop. “That looks… steep.”

“Steep makes it fun.” Rex grinned, grabbing one of the sleds and dragging it closer. “Trust me, you’ll love it.”

“Trust you?” (Y/n) asked skeptically, though there was no real resistance in her voice. “That’s asking a lot.”

Rex’s expression softened, though his grin didn’t fade entirely. “You’ll see.”

Before (Y/n) could respond, a shout echoed up from the base of the hill. She turned to see **Fives and Echo** standing in the snow, already halfway down the slope, waving up at them with wild enthusiasm.  

“You’re late, Rex!” Fives called, his voice carrying easily across the open air. “We’ve already claimed victory!”

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Rex called back, grinning as he crouched to position the sled. He looked up at (Y/n), extending a hand toward her. “Come on. I’ll steer.”

(Y/n) hesitated, the wind tugging gently at her cloak as she stared at him. There was something in his eyes—something warm, inviting, and completely unguarded—that made it impossible to say no. With a small sigh, she knelt beside him and carefully settled onto the sled, clutching the edge with both hands.

Rex leaned closer, his voice low in her ear. “Hold on tight.”

She barely had time to process the words before the sled lurched forward, the runners gliding smoothly against the packed snow. The wind roared past her ears as they gained speed, the world blurring into a rush of white and blue. (Y/n)’s heart leapt into her throat, and for a split second, she forgot how to breathe.

Then—she laughed.

It bubbled out of her, wild and breathless, a sound that surprised even her as it mingled with Rex’s whoop of triumph. Snow sprayed up around them as the sled tore down the hill, the cold biting at her skin, but it didn’t matter. In that moment, she felt *alive*—as though all the weight she carried had been lifted and scattered to the wind.

At the bottom of the hill, Fives and Echo were waiting, already in the midst of building an impromptu snow barricade. (Y/n) stumbled off the sled, breathless, her cheeks flushed from laughter and cold. Rex stood beside her, grinning, his blond hair dusted with snow.

“You’re smiling,” he said, his voice softer now, the teasing edge gone.

(Y/n) blinked up at him, surprised. “I suppose I am.”

High above them, standing at one of the palace windows, **Cody** watched the scene unfold. His arms were crossed loosely over his chest, but his expression was no longer guarded. A faint smile played at the edges of his mouth, his gaze lingering on Rex and (Y/n) as they laughed in the snow. He said nothing, but there was an understanding in his eyes—a quiet recognition of something beginning to bloom.  

He turned away from the window and walked back into the shadows of the palace, his thoughts unspoken, his smile lingering.

Outside, (Y/n) brushed snow from her coat, still breathless as Rex grinned down at her.  

“Ready for another run?” he asked.

(Y/n) shook her head, though her smile remained. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” Rex replied, his gaze softening, “here you are.”

Neither of them noticed the way the sun, low on the horizon, painted the snow gold—its light casting long shadows as the day slowly slipped toward evening.

***

The palace was quieter now, its wide corridors muffled by the weight of the morning’s efforts. (Y/n) sat at the far end of the grand dining hall, a quiet corner where no one had yet noticed her absence. The rest of the room still hummed with quiet conversation, the noblewomen and visiting princesses seated in neat rows of polished chairs, sipping delicately at their drinks and speaking in hushed tones that bordered on polite gossip.

Twenty introductions. Twenty carefully planned moments meant to foster connection, ease, and grace.

(Y/n) let out a slow, exhausted breath, her fingertips tracing absent patterns on the linen tablecloth before her. It didn’t go as planned.

It wasn’t a complete disaster, but there were cracks—cracks she hadn’t anticipated. Cody had been polite, almost flawlessly so, but polite wasn’t enough. Politeness lacked warmth. It lacked connection. He had stood stiffly in place like a soldier on parade, greeting each woman with the faintest smile, his words measured and impersonal. He hadn’t engaged, not really, and though none of the women had dared say so aloud, (Y/n) could feel it in their subtle glances and hesitant smiles.

It had been like watching dancers out of step with the music—each one lovely and perfect on their own, but unable to move as one.

And the blame, (Y/n) decided, sat squarely on her shoulders.

You’re supposed to be the best, her mind whispered accusingly. This is what you do. You don’t fail.

She sighed again, rolling her shoulders as though trying to shake off the weight pressing against them. Her tea had gone cold hours ago, and her appetite was nowhere to be found. She stared blankly out the wide windows to her left, where sunlight spilled in golden shafts across the far mountains.

“Are you hiding, or do you just like brooding in corners?”

(Y/n)’s head snapped up, startled by the sudden voice cutting through her thoughts. Rex stood at the edge of the table, his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat, that ever-present spark of mischief in his eyes. He tilted his head as he regarded her, his lips quirking into the faintest of smiles.

“I’m not hiding,” (Y/n) said defensively, sitting up straighter and smoothing her hands over her skirt. “And I certainly don’t brood.”

“Ah.” Rex nodded thoughtfully as though he didn’t believe a word of it. “That explains the tragic sighing and staring dramatically into the middle distance. Very dignified.”

“Rex…” (Y/n) began, but he cut her off by sliding into the chair across from her without waiting for an invitation.

“Let me guess,” he said, leaning back with an almost lazy confidence. “The meetings didn’t go well.”

(Y/n) narrowed her eyes at him, though there was no real heat behind it. “You weren’t even there.”

“I didn’t have to be.” Rex shrugged, his gaze lingering on her face, softer now, more observant. “You’re sitting here with the same look Cody wears after reading a hundred tax reports. That’s a bad sign.”

(Y/n) let out a quiet, reluctant laugh—short and breathless—but it was enough to ease some of the tightness in her chest. “It wasn’t a disaster,” she admitted, folding her arms on the table, “but it didn’t go the way I’d hoped.”

Rex’s smile dimmed slightly as he leaned forward, resting his forearms on the edge of the table. “Let me guess,” he said, his voice gentler now, though the teasing lilt hadn’t fully left. “Cody was… Cody.”

(Y/n) pressed her lips into a thin line and nodded. “Polite but distant. He treated the entire process like a military inspection.”

“Sounds about right.” Rex sighed, running a hand through his already messy hair. “Don’t take it personally. Cody’s not great at being himself in rooms full of strangers.”

(Y/n) looked at him curiously. “And what is he like when he is himself?”

Rex paused, his expression thoughtful as though he hadn’t quite expected the question. “Quiet,” he said after a moment. “Steady. He’s the man you want beside you in a storm because he’ll never waver. But he keeps his heart close to the chest. Too close, sometimes.”

(Y/n) tilted her head, her fingers toying with the edge of the tablecloth. “That’s what I’m afraid of,” she murmured softly, almost to herself. “That he won’t let anyone in.”

Rex studied her for a long moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as though seeing her more clearly than she’d like. “You care,” he said finally, the words quiet but certain.

(Y/n) blinked, caught off guard. “Of course I care. It’s my job.”

“No,” Rex said softly, shaking his head. “It’s more than that.”

(Y/n) opened her mouth to protest, but Rex was already standing, his chair scraping softly against the floor. “Come on.”

She frowned up at him. “Come on where?”

“You need cheering up,” Rex replied matter-of-factly, as though that explained everything. “And I’ve got just the thing.”

“Rex, I have work—”

“Your work will still be here when you get back.” He held out a hand to her, his grin returning, though there was something warm and steady about it now. “Trust me.”

(Y/n) stared at his outstretched hand for a long moment, torn between the pull of her responsibilities and the spark of curiosity he always managed to ignite in her. Finally, with a quiet sigh, she placed her hand in his and let him pull her to her feet.

“You’re relentless,” she muttered as he led her out of the dining hall.

“You’ll thank me later,” Rex replied confidently.

***

Rex led her outside the palace and down a narrow, snow-dusted stone path that wound between tall hedges and towering fir trees. The air was sharp and clear, carrying the faint, distant sound of bells—somewhere, far off, the palace staff were likely preparing for the holidays.

(Y/n) let herself be guided, her curiosity mounting with every step. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” Rex said, glancing back at her with that mischievous glint in his eye that she was beginning to recognize all too well.

Finally, they emerged into an open space—a secluded garden tucked into a hollow beside the palace walls. (Y/n) stopped in her tracks, her breath catching softly in her chest.

The garden was alive with light. The snow-covered hedges had been strung with soft golden lanterns that glowed like captured stars, and beneath them, scattered throughout the frost-touched earth, grew winter roses. Their petals were pale white tinged with the faintest blush of pink, each bloom seeming almost unreal against the snow.

(Y/n) stepped forward slowly, the sound of her boots muffled by the thick powder. She knelt beside one of the flowers, brushing her fingers delicately against its petals. It was soft—unexpectedly so—and still warm with life despite the frost surrounding it.

“You don’t often see these,” Rex said quietly, standing just behind her. “They only bloom when the nights are cold and the moons hang low. They say the winter rose can survive where nothing else can.”

(Y/n) glanced back at him, her voice soft. “It’s beautiful.”

Rex watched her closely, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “I thought you’d like it.”

For a moment, neither of them said anything. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It was full—filled with something unspoken, something that hummed softly beneath the surface like the slow bloom of a winter rose.

“You brought me here to see this?” (Y/n) finally asked, turning fully to face him.

Rex shrugged, though his grin was gentler now, his gaze steady. “You’ve spent all day carrying the weight of the palace on your shoulders. I figured you deserved something beautiful.”

(Y/n) stared at him, her heart skipping in a way that made her uneasy. She had known men who could speak in charm alone, but Rex… he said things as though he meant them, as though his words carried weight he didn’t expect her to see.

“Thank you,” she said softly, the words feeling small but sincere.

Rex held her gaze for another long moment before grinning again, the familiar glint returning to his eyes. “Come on. There’s a fire pit at the far end of the garden. I’ll even let you warm your hands while I find some spiced cider.”

(Y/n) shook her head with a quiet laugh, following him as he turned. But as they walked deeper into the glow of the lanterns, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between them—softly, quietly, like snow falling in the night.

And for once, she didn’t mind it at all.

***

From a window high in one of the palace towers, Cody stood in silence, his hands loosely clasped behind his back. The firelight from within the room barely reached him, leaving him half in shadow, but he didn’t need light to see what unfolded below.

The garden glowed softly, a golden pocket of warmth against the snow-covered grounds, and in its center, he spotted them. Rex and (Y/n).

Cody’s gaze lingered on them—on the way Rex turned back slightly to check that (Y/n) was following, on the faint laugh that drifted up, too soft to fully reach him but audible enough to let him imagine its sound. Rex had that look about him again—the kind of light in his eyes Cody hadn’t seen in years, not since they were children racing sleds down the hills without a care in the world.

(Y/n) walked beside him, her posture softer than Cody had ever seen it. Her usual composure, her air of determination and restraint, had given way to something quieter—something more… real.

Cody’s lips curved into the faintest smile, though it was tinged with something deeper, something thoughtful. His brother had always had a way of finding light in unexpected places, of dragging it with him like a spark through darkness.

And (Y/n)? Well, she had been so consumed by her careful plans—her lists and responsibilities—that Cody doubted she’d allowed herself to breathe in years.

As he watched them disappear deeper into the garden, the lantern light dappling across their figures like scattered starlight, Cody shook his head faintly to himself.

“Rex…” he murmured under his breath, though there was no reprimand in the word. Only quiet acknowledgment.

The corners of his mouth lifted slightly as he turned from the window, the shadows swallowing him again as he walked back toward the heart of the palace.

Perhaps, he thought, the best things in life weren’t meant to be planned.

For all the planning, for all the meticulous work (Y/n) had done, perhaps the one thing she hadn’t planned for was the thing that mattered most.

Unexpected love.

Cody’s smile lingered as he turned away from the window, leaving the scene below to play out as it would.

***

In the solitude of the west tower, beyond the hustle of the palace’s daily movements, **King Jaster** stood by a wide, arched window, the heavy velvet drapes drawn back to allow the fading light of dusk to stream in. The winter air carried a hush outside, as though the world itself had paused to listen.

He said nothing at first, his hands clasped behind his back as he looked down at the glowing garden below. The lanterns illuminated the space with a soft, golden warmth, their light dancing across the snow and reflecting off the pale petals of the winter roses. In the center of the glow, two figures moved slowly—Rex, with his easy, unhurried strides, and (Y/n), following with a quiet grace.  

There was laughter down there. Jaster couldn’t hear it, but he could see it—Rex turning to speak, (Y/n) tilting her head back just slightly, her lips forming a smile that softened her entire demeanor. The boy had that gleam again, the light he’d carried as a child when his feet ran faster than he could keep up with, when his laughter filled the palace halls and made it feel alive.  

“Hmm,” came the low murmur of a familiar voice from behind him. “Young Rex… cheerful, he is. Bright, the boy shines.”  

Jaster didn’t turn as Yoda stepped up beside him, his short stature meaning his head just barely reached the bottom of the windowsill. The old advisor, gnarled and wise, had been at Jaster’s side for as long as he could remember. Through wars and peace, through grief and recovery, Yoda had been an anchor—his quiet words carrying more weight than all the councils in the galaxy combined.  

“He’s happy,” Jaster said softly, his deep voice quieter than usual, as though afraid to disturb the moment below. “I haven’t seen him like this in years.”

“Long has it been,” Yoda replied, his tone calm but edged with knowing. “The burdens they carry, heavier than they should be. All of them. Cody, Rex… the twins… Jesse.”  

Jaster inclined his head faintly, his gaze not wavering from the scene below. “Too heavy.”  

Yoda’s ears flicked slightly as he looked up at the king, his ancient green face unreadable but his eyes sharp and knowing. “Hm. Yet, warmth finds them. The unexpected blooms when left untended.” He tilted his head toward the window, gesturing faintly with one clawed hand. “Like the winter rose.”

Jaster turned slightly at that, his weathered brow furrowing. “What are you saying?”

“Observe them, did you not?” Yoda murmured, his tone faintly teasing as his wise eyes twinkled in the dim light. “A flame burns there, quiet but certain. Like moonlight on snow.”

Jaster looked back at the garden, his sharp blue gaze lingering on his grandson and the woman who walked beside him. He watched the way Rex looked at her—an unguarded glance, fleeting but honest. The way (Y/n)’s shoulders had relaxed, as though for the first time, the weight of her purpose had been temporarily lifted.  

“You think…” Jaster began, trailing off before the words could leave him fully.  

“Think? Hmm.” Yoda chuckled softly, a sound like wind rustling through dry leaves. “Know, I do not. But hope? Ah, yes.” He gave a small nod, his voice dropping to a thoughtful murmur. “Hope can grow where nothing else will.”

Jaster said nothing for a long moment, his weathered face thoughtful as the firelight from the lanterns below danced faintly in his eyes. He had known love—had held it in his hands, in his family, and had watched it be torn away too soon. For years now, the palace had carried shadows, held together by duty and resolve. And yet…  

As Rex and (Y/n) disappeared further into the garden, their figures framed by golden light and snow-dusted roses, Jaster felt something shift—a tiny crack in the stone walls built around them all.

“Perhaps,” Jaster said finally, his voice low, as though admitting it to himself more than to Yoda, “the galaxy hasn’t taken everything from us yet.”  

“Hm.” Yoda tilted his head knowingly. “Faith, my friend. When least expected, life always finds a way.”

Jaster looked down at the old Jedi, his lips quirking faintly—just the smallest hint of a smile. “You always say that.”

“And right, I always am.” Yoda’s shoulders lifted in what might have been a shrug, his expression as wry as ever.  

Jaster let out a low, thoughtful hum, his gaze drifting back to the window. The lanterns in the garden glowed against the darkening sky, a pocket of warmth and light in the cold. And below, unseen by the rest of the world, something fragile and precious had begun to grow.

For the first time in years, Jaster allowed himself to hope.  

And beside him, Yoda smiled faintly, the ancient weight of his wisdom carried lightly, as though he, too, had been waiting for this moment.  

“Watch closely, we will,” Yoda murmured softly, his voice a quiet promise. “For blooms like this… rare they are.”

***

(Y/n) stood at the head of the grand hall, its wide expanse already buzzing with quiet anticipation. Sunlight poured through the tall, latticed windows, illuminating the polished marble floors in soft golden beams. She’d spent the better part of her morning organizing yet another round of introductions for Cody and the invited ladies, but today, she was determined to shift the dynamic.

(Y/n) glanced down at her clipboard—a tightly organized grid of names, pairings, and locations. She had carefully plotted this: dividing the suitors among Cody’s cousins and brothers. Her logic was sound—if Cody didn’t feel the full weight of the proceedings on his shoulders, if he weren’t the sole focus of every woman’s attention, perhaps he would loosen up, even if just a little.

And she had managed to secure volunteers—or perhaps unwitting participants—from the extended royal family: Wolffe, Kix, Waxer, Boil, Hunter, and, of course, Rex and the twins.

(Y/n) glanced at the gathered men now, standing in a loose, uneven cluster. Most of them looked like they were bracing for battle.

“Let me get this straight,” Wolffe said, arms crossed tightly over his chest as his piercing gaze scanned the clipboard (Y/n) held. The eldest of the cousins, his air of authority was impossible to miss, though there was something sardonic about him, as if he found life amusing in the most infuriating ways. “You want us to… what? Escort the suitors around and make polite conversation?”

“Yes,” (Y/n) said, keeping her tone professional and unwavering, though Wolffe’s skeptical stare made her throat tighten slightly. “The idea is to lighten the atmosphere, give Cody some breathing room, and allow the ladies to interact with all of you as well.”

“Babysitting duty,” Hunter muttered with an arched brow. His dark hair was tied back at the nape of his neck, and his sharp, observant eyes missed nothing. There was a kind of quiet patience about him, though (Y/n) had a feeling he was assessing the entire situation like a battlefield.

“It’s not babysitting,” (Y/n) replied, though she could already hear the skepticism in their silence. “Think of it as… social diplomacy.”

Kix, the palace medic and the most even-tempered of the group, raised a hand slightly, as though waiting his turn. “And what exactly are we supposed to do with them?” he asked, his voice calm but edged with resignation.

(Y/n) tilted her head slightly, as though to reassure him. “Talk to them. Ask about their home systems. Be… friendly.”

“Friendly,” Waxer repeated, exchanging a grin with Boil beside him. The two cousins—more laid-back than their older counterparts—were already nudging each other like schoolboys in the back of the classroom. “How friendly are we talking here?”

“Polite friendly,” (Y/n) clarified quickly, narrowing her eyes at the pair. “Not ‘charming mischief’ friendly.”

“Aw, where’s the fun in that?” Boil muttered, though the grin on his face suggested he had no intention of causing trouble. Probably.

Rex, standing a little to the side, looked far too pleased with the entire situation. “I think it’s a brilliant plan,” he said with a grin, his hands tucked lazily into his pockets. “Let’s see if Cody actually cracks a smile this time.”

“It’s not for entertainment, Rex,” (Y/n) shot back, though the faint smirk he offered in return made it impossible to stay frustrated with him.

“Of course not,” Rex said smoothly. “But I’m still looking forward to seeing what happens.”

***

(Y/n) exhaled, turning to face Cody, who stood nearby with his usual air of composed reluctance. He had been quiet the entire time, his gaze fixed somewhere on the floor, as though trying to mentally escape the moment.

“Your Highness,” (Y/n) said gently, addressing him directly. “I believe this will help. You don’t have to shoulder everything alone.”

Cody looked at her for a long moment, his face unreadable. Then, with a faint nod that could almost pass as agreement, he muttered, “We’ll see.”

It wasn’t much, but it was something.

***

The first half of the morning went surprisingly well. (Y/n) allowed herself a sliver of pride as she observed the scene unfolding in the grand hall. Small clusters of suitors and royal men dotted the room, conversations flowing, and the atmosphere felt… lighter.

Wolffe, to her surprise, stood with an elegant brunette in deep violet, listening attentively as she explained her family’s long-held traditions. Kix had drawn a small circle of women around him, undoubtedly sharing medical stories that (Y/n) hoped weren’t too graphic. Hunter, quiet as ever, was paired with a sharp-witted lady from Alderaan, whose animated conversation seemed to amuse him in spite of himself.

Even Cody, while still stiff, looked far less burdened with Rex standing beside him—no doubt helping to steer the conversation with easy charm.

(Y/n) was just beginning to relax when she noticed Fives and Echo, far too still and far too quiet, near one of the grand hall’s archways. It sent a warning tingle up her spine.

“What are they…” she murmured under her breath, narrowing her eyes as she tried to make sense of their suspiciously innocent expressions.

Fives’ shoulder twitched slightly, as though suppressing a laugh. Echo’s gaze flicked toward the ceiling for a fraction of a second before returning to the small group of women they were entertaining.

The ceiling.

(Y/n) froze, her gaze snapping upward.

She saw it just in time. A large net, strung with bundles of artificial snow—feathers and fine powder—dangled from the chandelier above the center of the room.

“No,” she whispered, her heart sinking.

It was too late. Fives grinned suddenly—bright and unrepentant—as he yanked something from his pocket. Echo turned just in time to give (Y/n) an apologetic shrug.

The net released.

Snow—soft, powdery, and absurdly voluminous—exploded from the ceiling, cascading down like a sudden blizzard. Gasps and shrieks of laughter erupted across the hall as women and royals alike were buried under the unexpected deluge.

(Y/n)’s jaw dropped as Rex burst into a peal of laughter, nearly doubling over as he watched the chaos unfold. Wolffe let out a low, irritated groan as snow settled in his dark hair and dusted the shoulders of his coat.

“Fives!” (Y/n) shouted, her voice rising above the noise as she marched toward the twins, who were already trying to escape toward the hallway. “Echo! What did I say about behaving?”

“Technically,” Fives called back as he darted past Rex, who was still laughing, “we’re enhancing the atmosphere!”

“Yeah!” Echo chimed in, grabbing a handful of snow and tossing it at Waxer, who had joined in the chaos. “It’s festive!”

Rex, tears of laughter in his eyes, straightened enough to throw a look at (Y/n), who now stood with her hands on her hips, her cheeks flushed. “I told you—friendly mischief.”

“You’re all impossible!” (Y/n) snapped, though she couldn’t stop the reluctant smile tugging at her lips.

****

From where he stood near the edge of the hall, Cody brushed snow off his coat, his expression unreadable. A faint dusting of powder clung to his hair, but he didn’t seem to notice it.

Instead, his gaze drifted toward (Y/n), who stood in the center of the chaos. Her hands were still on her hips, her expression half-scolding, half-amused as she watched Rex and the twins with exasperated affection.

Cody’s lips twitched—the barest flicker of a smile. It was brief and small, but it softened the lines of his face, made his shoulders relax.

For all the weight on her shoulders, for all her determination to keep everything perfect, (Y/n) made the palace feel alive again.

Perhaps, he thought as he turned quietly toward the hall’s exit, that wasn’t such a bad thing.

****

In the corner of the hall, Rex caught (Y/n)’s eye, a mischievous grin still lingering as he dusted snow off his sleeves. “You’ve got to admit,” he called over the noise, “it is festive.”

(Y/n) groaned, but even as she shook her head, she couldn’t stop the laughter that escaped her lips.

***

The day broke gently over Alderia, sunlight glinting off the frost-touched landscape like a painter’s brush had scattered silver across the world. The palace, still waking in quiet elegance, seemed to stretch its limbs as a fresh wave of crisp air flowed in from the mountains.

(Y/n) had taken her breakfast in the dining room again, seated at the far end of the enormous table. A modest spread had been laid before her, and though the tea was fragrant and the pastries warm, she found herself picking at the edges of her meal, her mind lingering stubbornly on the day’s agenda.

The introductions from the previous day replayed themselves in an endless loop—Cody’s polite stiffness, the carefully orchestrated smiles of the suitors, the pauses that stretched too long, heavy with unsaid words. You planned for everything, (Y/n) thought bitterly. And yet here we are.

She was about to lift her cup for a sip when a chair scraped loudly against the floor. (Y/n) flinched, startled, and looked up to see Rex sliding into the seat across from her with the kind of careless ease that only he could pull off. He looked far too energetic for someone who had no reason to be awake so early.

“Good morning,” he said, with a grin that was altogether too bright for the hour.

(Y/n) sighed, placing her cup back down. “Rex. Do you ever not appear out of nowhere?”

“I like to think of it as being punctual,” Rex replied, reaching for a fresh roll from the basket at the center of the table. He tore it in half with practiced ease, popping a piece into his mouth before glancing at her pointedly. “Though you look like you’ve been sitting here arguing with your thoughts for the better part of an hour.”

“I’m not arguing,” (Y/n) replied, though the tightness in her tone betrayed her frustration.

“Oh?” Rex tilted his head, chewing thoughtfully. “Planning, then. You do a lot of that.”

“It’s my job.” She picked at the edges of her napkin, willing herself to focus on anything other than his direct gaze. “Some of us don’t have the luxury of—”

“Of what?” he interrupted gently, though there was no teasing in his voice this time. “Forgetting that life isn’t made of plans?”

(Y/n) opened her mouth to argue but found no words. The observation hit too close to home, as Rex’s usually did. He watched her for a moment longer before leaning back in his chair, draping an arm casually across the backrest.

“All right, enough of this,” he said decisively. “You’re coming with me.”

(Y/n) frowned, blinking. “What?”

“Out. A ride.”

She stared at him as though he’d grown a second head. “A ride? On horses?”

Rex grinned, already victorious. “What else? Fresh air, open land, the whole countryside to ourselves.”

“Rex, I don’t have time for—”

He raised a hand, cutting her off, though his tone remained maddeningly calm. “(Y/n), if I let you sit here another hour, you’re going to wear a hole in that table with how hard you’re frowning. Trust me—there’s more to this planet than ballroom introductions and checklists. Let me show you.”

There it was again—that impossible pull he always managed to have on her. She stared at him for a long moment, debating, trying to hold on to her resolve. But something in the way he looked at her—earnest and insistent but never forceful—made the words fall flat on her tongue.

With a heavy sigh, she relented. “Fine. One hour.”

“One hour,” he agreed, though the grin he gave her said he already considered it a full victory. “Stables in twenty minutes. Don’t keep me waiting.”

***

The air outside was crisp, the kind of winter morning where every breath felt clean and sharp against the lungs. Snow still dusted the palace grounds, glistening under the rising sun, though it had begun to melt in places where the trees offered a break from the frost.

(Y/n) stood by the royal stables, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as she watched the horses being saddled. She hadn’t ridden in years—not since she was a child on Coruscant, where the rare few riding paths were carefully controlled and more for show than anything else.

Rex, on the other hand, looked completely at ease. He stood beside a tall, dapple-gray stallion, stroking its neck with practiced hands. His sleeves were pushed up again, the cold seemingly not bothering him in the slightest, and a faint smile played on his lips as he whispered to the horse in low, soothing tones.

“You look far too comfortable,” (Y/n) said, her voice cutting through the quiet.

Rex looked up, flashing her an easy smile. “This is my element.”

“And here I thought mischief was your element.”

“Ah, that’s just a hobby.” Rex winked before turning to gesture toward the horse being brought to her—a sleek chestnut mare with a kind, intelligent face. “This is Aurora. She’s gentle but spirited. You’ll get along just fine.”

(Y/n) eyed the horse warily. “I’m not so sure.”

Rex stepped closer, his tone softening. “She won’t let you fall. And neither will I.”

There was something in the way he said it—earnest, quiet—that made (Y/n)’s throat tighten slightly. She allowed herself a breath before nodding and letting one of the stable hands help her into the saddle.

***

The wind whistled softly as (Y/n) pulled her borrowed cloak closer, the thick fabric shielding her from the lingering winter chill. The horses moved in steady rhythm beneath them, their hooves crunching softly through the light blanket of snow that covered the rolling meadows beyond the palace. Rex rode just a pace ahead of her, completely at ease, his posture loose and natural as though he belonged to this land.

(Y/n), though less confident, managed to keep Aurora, the gentle chestnut mare, moving smoothly alongside him. She focused on the sound of the horses, on the wide openness of the space stretching out before her—fields and valleys edged with frost, dotted by the dark outlines of evergreens.

It had been years since she’d felt anything like this—open air, the rush of motion, the world wide enough that it felt like it could swallow every weight she carried.

“I told you this would be better than staring at your tea,” Rex called over his shoulder, the wind carrying his voice to her like a song on the breeze.

(Y/n) smiled faintly, though she couldn’t bring herself to admit he was right—yet. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. I’m still deciding.”

Rex laughed softly, the sound warm in the cold air. “You’ll come around.” He slowed his horse slightly so that they rode side by side. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the world quiet except for the rhythm of hooves and the faint creak of leather saddles.

(Y/n) exhaled slowly, her breath visible in the cold air. “You seem… happy out here,” she observed quietly.

Rex looked ahead, his smile softening. “I am.”

“Why?”

He didn’t answer immediately, his gaze drifting toward the snow-dusted hills in the distance. “Because out here, I don’t have to be anything but myself,” he said finally. “There’s no one expecting me to play a role or fill a gap. I’m just… Rex.”

(Y/n) watched him, her fingers curling tighter around the reins. “And in the palace?”

“In the palace,” he said with a faint sigh, “I’m the spare. The second. The one who fills the space around the crown.” He turned to her then, his storm-colored eyes holding hers. “I don’t mind it, not really. Cody was born for it. But sometimes… it feels like there’s nothing else for me to be.”

The quiet that followed felt heavier, as though the world itself had stopped to listen. (Y/n) hesitated before speaking, her voice soft.

“I understand that,” she murmured.

Rex raised a brow. “You do?”

(Y/n) looked forward, letting her gaze drift to the open expanse of white and gold. “I’ve spent so much time helping others find love—building connections, crafting perfect matches—that I stopped looking for myself. It’s as though I’m… watching from the outside. Always watching.”

There was no pity in Rex’s gaze, only understanding. “And have you ever… wanted it?”

(Y/n) let out a faint, self-deprecating laugh, though it caught in her throat. “I wouldn’t know what to want. Love, as I’ve seen it, always seems so… chaotic. And yet, it’s the one thing everyone wants. It’s the thing they can’t live without.”

“And you?” Rex asked quietly.

(Y/n) turned to him, her expression soft but guarded. “I guess I’ve never felt I deserved it.”

Rex blinked, as though the confession had knocked something loose inside him. “That’s not true.”

“How would you know?” (Y/n) countered, her voice trembling slightly despite herself.

“Because I’ve seen you,” Rex said, his voice firm but gentle. “You’re always the one holding everything together—steady and sure, even when it’s not your burden to carry. You deserve more than just watching.”

The words hung between them, raw and unguarded, until Rex gave her a crooked, disarming smile. “Besides,” he added, lightening his tone, “chaos isn’t always bad. Sometimes it’s exactly what you need.”

(Y/n) stared at him for a moment, her heart thudding quietly in her chest. She didn’t know what to say, so instead, she looked back out at the open meadow.

And for the first time in a long time, she felt the faintest spark of hope—quiet and fragile but impossible to ignore.

As they rode on, Rex glanced at her again, the edges of his smile softer now, less teasing. He didn’t say anything more, but something unspoken passed between them—an understanding, a connection.

Neither of them knew where it would lead.

But for now, it was enough.

***

(Y/n) paced the length of the ballroom with her clipboard in hand, her heels clicking softly against the polished marble floor. The room, dressed in restrained elegance, was set for the next phase of introductions—an opportunity for each of the noblewomen and princesses to spend an uninterrupted hour with Cody. It was (Y/n)’s hope that the structured intimacy would allow for a deeper connection, perhaps even help Cody find some common ground with at least one of them.

The tables had been arranged with meticulous care, adorned with soft floral arrangements and tea sets laid out on embroidered linens. A fire crackled in the hearth, its warmth diffusing the chill in the room. Sunlight streamed through tall windows, bathing the grand space in gold, as if the day itself wanted to encourage success.

(Y/n)’s preparations were flawless—as always.

And yet, deep in her chest, a nagging sense of unease lingered.

The suitors, elegantly dressed and seated in the antechamber, were perfect on paper. Beautiful, poised, intelligent, and well-spoken. But perfection, (Y/n) knew all too well, could often feel hollow. And she was beginning to fear that hollow was exactly what Cody would find in each of them.

“Everything looks… unnecessarily perfect,” Rex’s voice broke through her thoughts, lighthearted and teasing as ever.

(Y/n) startled slightly, turning to find him lounging against one of the window frames, arms crossed and the familiar crooked smile tugging at his lips. He looked too at ease for someone standing amidst her painstakingly crafted setting—like he belonged in chaos more than polished order.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him in mock reproach.

“Why not? I’m helping.” He pushed off the frame, strolling toward her with the easy gait that she had come to know far too well.

“Helping?” (Y/n) scoffed, though her tone held no real irritation. “You’ve spent the last week interrupting my work.”

“Interrupting,” Rex corrected, as though it were a badge of honor, “is a form of assistance. It keeps you from overthinking everything.”

“I don’t overthink,” (Y/n) shot back defensively, clutching her clipboard just a little tighter.

Rex grinned, clearly delighted to see her bristling. “You’re overthinking right now.”

(Y/n) sighed, biting back a reluctant smile. “If you’re here to derail my plans, you’re too late. Everything is set. Each of the women will have an hour alone with Cody today. That’s their time to make an impression.”

Rex gave an exaggerated wince as he surveyed the ballroom. “Alone with Cody? You’re asking for trouble.”

(Y/n) frowned, brow furrowing as she glanced at him. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve seen him,” Rex replied casually, leaning against the back of one of the chairs and watching her with an amused expression. “The man treats these introductions like he’s attending a military tribunal. Straight back, stiff smile, saying as little as humanly possible.”

(Y/n) sighed, pressing her fingers against her temple. “I know. But this is important, Rex. He needs to—”

“Relax?” Rex interrupted, his grin widening when she shot him a glare. “(Y/n), you’ve set up the perfect stage, but you can’t force chemistry. That’s the problem. You’re trying to plan love.”

“That’s my job!” she snapped, though her voice cracked slightly at the end, as if she were exasperated with herself more than him. “And it’s not as simple as you make it sound.”

Rex straightened slightly, his gaze softening. “It’s never simple. But you can’t make someone feel something they don’t.”

The truth of his words settled in (Y/n)’s chest like a heavy stone, and she looked away, unable to hold his gaze. She knew he was right. As much as she hoped to create the perfect conditions, connection wasn’t something that could be controlled. It either happened or it didn’t.

***

From her vantage point in the shadows of the ballroom, Lady Mara watched with the stillness of a predator. Her keen gaze never wavered as it settled on (Y/n) and Rex, the young woman’s flustered reaction to Rex’s teasing and the unmistakable warmth in his gaze as he lingered near her.

It was subtle, but Mara saw it—she always saw it. The way Rex leaned just slightly too close, the softness of his smile when (Y/n) wasn’t looking, the flicker of hesitation in (Y/n)’s eyes, as though she wasn’t entirely sure what was happening between them.

But Mara knew.

Her fingers curled slowly around the edge of her shawl, the fabric brushing softly against her gloves as her lips pressed into a thin line. She had spent too many years waiting—watching—as Jaster’s grandsons grew into men, as they carried the titles and power that should have been hers.

She had been patient—oh, so patient—ever since the day Jango, her brother’s favored son, had taken everything from her. The throne, the future she had so carefully planned, had all been ripped away like a cruel twist of fate. When Jango died, she had thought it her time at last—her chance to step into the light and claim what was rightfully hers. But Jaster had refused to bend. He had raised Jango’s sons like the kings they were never meant to be, tightening his grip on the crown, solidifying his dynasty.

Now here she stood, in a palace that should have been hers, watching Jaster’s precious grandsons ruin everything. Rex, of all people—reckless, charming, unpredictable Rex—had begun to slip through her carefully laid cracks.

Her dark eyes swept back to (Y/n), the matchmaker. She was supposed to be here to solve the problem of Cody’s disinterest, yet somehow, she had become the problem herself. Mara saw the quiet connection between her and Rex beginning to form—fragile, unspoken, but growing like ivy on an ancient wall. It wasn’t merely an inconvenience; it was dangerous.

Mara’s nails dug into the soft fabric of her glove as she turned away from the ballroom. She moved silently, her skirts whispering along the floor as she stepped out into the quieter hallway beyond.

*** 

Mara strode purposefully down the shadowed corridor, her mind whirling with thoughts. The palace was alive with movement—the footsteps of servants, the murmur of distant voices—but Mara walked through it all like a ghost, unseen and unnoticed.

She couldn’t allow this. Not again.

Jaster’s sons had already stolen too much from her. She wouldn’t stand idle while they found love and strength to secure their power. A royal marriage, the forging of alliances—that would cement their place for generations to come, locking her and her line into the cold shadows of obscurity.

No.

Her gaze hardened as she turned a corner, entering a smaller study tucked away from the bustle of the main palace. She paused near the window, staring out at the snow-draped gardens below, where faint lantern light still flickered from the winter rose beds.

Rex, she thought bitterly, his name curling on her tongue like ash. He was too much like his father—too carefree, too charming. But unlike Jango, he was reckless. Mara could use that. His unpredictability could be turned against him, twisted to tarnish the reputation he carried.

And (Y/n)…

Mara’s lips curled faintly. The matchmaker was earnest and focused, but it made her predictable. A woman so busy trying to fit the world into neat little boxes couldn’t see a storm forming until it was too late.

***

A knock at the door broke through her thoughts.

“Enter,” she said smoothly, turning just as the heavy door creaked open and one of her most trusted attendants, a man named Luthar, slipped inside. He was a wiry man, his presence shadowed and unassuming, but his loyalty to Lady Mara was unquestionable.

“You summoned me, my lady?” Luthar’s voice was low and deferential.

“Yes,” Mara replied, her tone calm, measured. She gestured for him to step closer, her dark eyes gleaming in the firelight. “I need you to watch someone for me.”

Luthar inclined his head. “Who?”

“The matchmaker,” Mara said smoothly, folding her hands in front of her. “(Y/n) (Y/L/N). I want to know her movements. Who she speaks with. Who she trusts.”

Luthar gave a slight bow. “And the prince?”

“Rex,” Mara said softly, almost to herself, as though tasting the name on her tongue. “Keep an eye on him as well. He’s grown… distracted. That distraction could prove useful.”

Luthar hesitated, his gaze flickering with unspoken curiosity. “And if something should arise?”

Mara’s expression hardened, the faintest hint of a smile curling at the edges of her mouth. “Then you’ll inform me immediately. I’ll handle it.”

Luthar bowed again before slipping from the room as silently as he had entered.

****

Once she was alone again, Mara turned back to the window, her gaze sweeping the snow-covered grounds below. The garden was quiet now, but she could still see it in her mind: (Y/n) and Rex, walking beneath the lanterns, their laughter drifting up through the cold night air.

It was fragile.

Too fragile to last, she thought. And she would ensure it didn’t.

Jaster had stolen her crown. His grandsons had stolen her legacy.

But love?

Love was a fire she could extinguish before it ever had the chance to burn.

With that thought, she turned sharply, the rustle of her skirts echoing through the empty room. Lady Mara, patient and cunning, would not be ignored any longer.

***

As the morning passed, oblivious to the dark intentions brewing in the shadows, Rex found (Y/n) once again—this time in the library, surrounded by books and notes.

“Still working?” he teased, leaning against a nearby bookshelf with a grin that was far too casual.

(Y/n) looked up, startled, and let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “I’m always working. It’s what you hired me for, remember?”

Rex grinned, pushing off the bookshelf to sit on the edge of the table, far too close for propriety’s comfort. “You should take a break. I hear there’s a lovely view from the gardens around this time.”

(Y/n) glanced at him, her cheeks warming faintly, though she tried to ignore the way her pulse jumped at his nearness. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet you keep me around,” Rex replied, his voice softening as his teasing smile melted into something quieter.

She opened her mouth to argue, but the words wouldn’t come.

In that moment, as their eyes met and lingered, she felt it—the shift. The fragile thread of something unspoken, growing stronger with every breath they shared.

And just beyond the warmth of the library walls, Lady Mara watched, unseen and waiting, the storm she intended to unleash already beginning to gather.

****

### **The Dance Lessons**  

The ballroom gleamed in soft afternoon light, its wide marble floor polished to a mirror-like sheen. The vast space echoed with anticipation—servants hurrying to finish preparations, chairs tucked neatly against the far wall, fresh garlands of winter roses hanging from the tall archways. 

(Y/n) stood at the center of it all, a clipboard in her hand and tension in her shoulders as she surveyed the day’s task. *Dance lessons.* It was the logical next step—graceful movement, light conversation, an easy way to break the icy formality between Cody and the suitors. She had coordinated every detail: music selections, the layout, the schedule, and, of course, the “volunteers” she had roped in to serve as dance partners.  

**Cody, Rex, Wolffe, Hunter, Kix, Waxer, Boil, Fives, and Echo** stood at varying levels of discomfort near the edge of the ballroom, all dressed in their finest tunics—boots polished, collars starched—and wearing expressions that ranged from resigned to outright rebellious.  

“This is ridiculous,” Wolffe muttered, crossing his arms as his sharp gaze swept the room. “I’m not a dance instructor.”  

“You’re *helping,*” (Y/n) replied crisply, flipping through her notes to keep herself from snapping back. “You’ll all partner with the ladies who haven’t yet had a chance to properly engage with Prince Cody. Think of it as your civic duty.”

“Civic duty?” Hunter murmured, arching a brow at her. “I didn’t realize dancing had become a matter of state.”

“It has now,” (Y/n) shot back, leveling a look at him before continuing. “The goal is for the women to feel at ease. Relaxed. Do you think they’ll be comfortable dancing with a prince who refuses to smile?” 

From his place against the far wall, **Cody** lifted his gaze from where he’d been inspecting the floor. “I can hear you.”

“You were supposed to,” (Y/n) replied sweetly, though her gaze lingered on him just long enough to soften the sting.  

The twins, predictably, were already at it—Fives elbowed Echo, a mischievous grin lighting up his face. “I’m going to win the crowd over,” Fives announced grandly, smoothing the front of his coat with mock seriousness. “They’ll forget Cody’s even here.”

“Try not to trip,” Echo replied dryly, though his smirk betrayed him.  

(Y/n) pinched the bridge of her nose, exhaling slowly before scanning the room for the one man she hadn’t yet heard complain. Rex. 

---

**Rex stood near the grand piano**, watching (Y/n) with an unreadable expression as she corralled the cousins and brothers like a commander on a battlefield. He’d grown used to seeing her like this—sharp, focused, and entirely in control—but something about today felt different. Her movements were more rushed, her tone a little too clipped, as if she were holding something back.  

Rex watched her for another beat before stepping forward, his boots tapping softly against the marble. “You’re going to wear a hole in that clipboard,” he said, his voice low and teasing as he stopped beside her.

(Y/n) glanced up sharply, startled. “I’m fine.”

“You always say that,” Rex replied, tilting his head as he studied her, “and yet you look like you’re ready to strangle someone with your notes.”  

(Y/n) bit back a retort, her pulse quickening slightly under the weight of his gaze. “They’re impossible to manage,” she muttered instead, gesturing toward the assembled group. “None of them take this seriously.”

“They’re taking it as seriously as you let them,” Rex said softly, his eyes narrowing just slightly. “You could use a break, you know. You’ve been on edge since—well, *since always*.”

(Y/n) opened her mouth to protest but stopped herself. There was no point arguing with Rex when he saw straight through her defenses. She let out a soft breath instead, forcing herself to focus on the task at hand. “Are you here to help or just to distract me?”

Rex’s lips curled into that familiar lopsided grin that made (Y/n)’s stomach flip in ways she wasn’t prepared to admit. “Both.”

***

The music began—a soft, lilting waltz played on the grand piano by a palace musician—and the suitors moved hesitantly into the ballroom. (Y/n)’s voice cut through the murmurs like a whip of calm authority.  

“All right, ladies, gentlemen—pair up, please,” she called, her voice carrying easily over the music. “One lady to each of you. Prince Cody will begin at the center, and the rest of you will rotate every ten minutes. This is about comfort and conversation. Please, try to enjoy yourselves.”

*Enjoy themselves.* (Y/n) wasn’t sure she’d ever seen a more reluctant group of dancers.

The ballroom was a wash of gold and white, sunlight filtering through tall stained-glass windows, dappling the polished marble floor with warmth. The soft strains of a waltz echoed through the vast space, mingling with the laughter and polite murmurs of conversation as the dance lessons finally began. It was as (Y/n) had planned—graceful, orderly, structured.

Yet despite the perfect setting, the atmosphere still felt off.

Cody, positioned at the center with yet another partner, moved stiffly, his every step mechanical, as though he were a clockwork figure. (Y/n) watched him carefully from her spot near the edge of the room, her brow furrowed as she made notes on her clipboard. Every step, every rotation, felt like another missed opportunity. Cody’s partner smiled, but (Y/n) could see through it—polite, practiced, but hollow.

The ballroom was filling with cracks, tiny fissures in the façade she’d worked so hard to create.

***

Across the floor, Rex moved among the dancers with a kind of natural ease that both frustrated and fascinated her. He laughed easily, spinning one of the young princesses with a flair that earned him a round of applause from the other ladies. The charm came effortlessly to him, a boyish mischief lighting up his face that made him impossible to ignore.

But (Y/n) had learned something about Rex these last few weeks. That carefree exterior of his? It was a mask—clever, disarming, but not quite real. And when he let it slip, even just a little, (Y/n) felt as though she’d glimpsed something precious and fragile.

Something she wasn’t sure she was ready to see.

“Careful, Matchmaker.”

Rex’s voice broke through her thoughts like a ripple across still water. (Y/n) blinked, startled, to find him suddenly at her side, hands tucked casually into his pockets, his blue-gray eyes fixed on her with a look that sent her pulse fluttering.

“You’re brooding again,” Rex said, a teasing smile curving his lips. “You’re supposed to be watching the dancing, not staring holes into the floor.”

“I’m working,” (Y/n) replied stiffly, though her voice faltered slightly under the weight of his gaze.

“Are you?” Rex asked, tilting his head. “Because from here, it looks like you’re worrying yourself into an early grave.”

(Y/n) frowned, unwilling to meet his eyes. “Cody isn’t connecting with anyone. This is supposed to help, but it’s… falling apart.”

“Falling apart?” Rex murmured, his tone softer now. “Not everything needs to be perfect, (Y/n).”

“It’s my job to make it perfect,” she said quietly, her fingers tightening around the clipboard. “If I don’t, who will?”

There was a pause, and when she finally looked up, Rex was watching her—not with teasing amusement this time, but with something softer, something deeper.

“I think you’re too hard on yourself,” he said, his voice low, as though the words weren’t meant for anyone but her. “You try to hold the world together on your own, and it’s going to crush you if you’re not careful.”

(Y/n) opened her mouth to reply, but nothing came. He always did this—saw through the carefully constructed wall she’d built around herself and reached straight into the fragile heart of it.

“Come on,” Rex said suddenly, breaking the moment before it could deepen further. He extended a hand to her, his grin returning, though the softness in his eyes remained. “Dance with me.”

(Y/n) blinked. “What?”

“Dance with me,” he repeated, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. “You can’t teach everyone else if you’re not willing to join in yourself.”

“I’m not here to dance,” (Y/n) stammered, flustered, her cheeks warming. “I’m overseeing—”

“You’re overthinking,” Rex said, smirking faintly. “One dance, (Y/n). You can go back to your clipboard after.”

***

Her hesitation broke when she felt the brothers and cousins watching—Wolffe’s sharp gaze, Kix’s faint smirk, and the twins’ not-so-subtle nudges. From across the room, Fives grinned like a child with a secret, whispering something to Echo that made them both chuckle under their breath.

Even Cody had noticed, pausing just slightly mid-step with his partner to glance over, his brow lifting in quiet curiosity.

(Y/n)’s breath caught as the room seemed to shift its focus. It was subtle, but she felt it—their eyes on her, on Rex, and on whatever it was that lingered between them like a spark waiting to catch fire.

She looked up at Rex, whose hand was still extended toward her, patient but insistent. There was no teasing in his face anymore, only quiet encouragement.

Just one dance, she told herself, though her heart hammered wildly in her chest. Slowly, she slipped her hand into his.

Rex’s smile softened, as though her acceptance meant far more to him than he would ever admit. “Trust me,” he murmured.

***

They moved onto the floor, and for the first time that day, the music seemed to come alive. The melody swelled gently, wrapping around them as Rex placed his hand lightly against (Y/n)’s waist and guided her into the steps of the waltz.

At first, (Y/n)’s movements were stiff, self-conscious. She could feel the others watching—Cody, Wolffe, the cousins—but she forced herself to focus on Rex.

“Relax,” Rex murmured, his voice just above a whisper, as though speaking too loudly might shatter the moment. “It’s just us.”

(Y/n) looked up into his face, startled by the sincerity in his words. “It’s not just us. They’re all staring.”

“Let them stare,” Rex replied softly, his thumb brushing lightly against her hand. “I’m only looking at you.”

Her heart skipped a beat, her breath catching as his words settled over her like a warmth she hadn’t expected. She looked up at him, truly looked, and saw something in his eyes that she hadn’t allowed herself to see before. The teasing grin was gone, replaced by something raw and unguarded.

Rex was… different. He wasn’t the carefree prince who pulled her into snowball fights or dragged her away from her work. He was this—steady, grounded, and impossibly real.

And it terrified her.

***

From across the room, the brothers and cousins noticed the shift.

“Finally,” Fives muttered to Echo, elbowing him in the ribs. “I thought I’d have to push him into her.”

Echo smirked, though his gaze lingered on Rex and (Y/n) with quiet understanding. “Don’t jinx it.”

Hunter’s sharp eyes narrowed slightly, though a faint smile tugged at his lips. “About time he noticed.”

Even Wolffe, usually the most reserved of them all, let out a faint, resigned sigh. “He’s in trouble.”

***

(Y/n) felt it, too.

As they moved in perfect rhythm, her body following the subtle press of Rex’s hand at her waist, (Y/n) realized how easily he grounded her. How he made everything—the chaos, the expectations, the weight—feel just a little lighter.

She glanced up at him, searching his face. What is happening to me?

Rex looked down at her as though he could hear her unspoken question. His gaze held hers, steady and sure, his expression open in a way that made her chest tighten.

And for the first time, (Y/n) let herself feel it—the spark, the pull that she could no longer deny.

As the music slowed and the last note faded into the air, Rex didn’t let go of her hand right away. His fingers lingered against hers, his voice low and rough when he finally spoke.

“See?” he murmured. “One dance didn’t kill you.”

(Y/n) stared up at him, her heart thudding wildly. “No,” she whispered. “It didn’t.”

But it might have undone her entirely.

***

Lady Mara, hidden once again near the ballroom’s entrance, watched with narrowed eyes. Her sharp gaze swept over Rex and (Y/n) as they lingered just a second too long in the center of the room.

This cannot be allowed.

A plan was already forming in her mind. If love were to take root here, she would see it wither before it ever had the chance to bloom.

As the dance ended, and the room returned to its usual hum of conversation, Lady Mara turned sharply on her heel, slipping away into the shadows with purpose.

Let them play their games for now, she thought. It won’t last.

***

Thank you so much for reading the first part! 🌟 I had an absolute blast writing this story—it was such a joy to weave together the magic of the holidays

I’d love to hear your thoughts! Whether it’s your favorite moment, the scenes that made you smile, or even the twists that caught you by surprise—your reactions mean the world to me. 💕 Feel free to leave a comment, share your feelings, or even just drop by to say hi! And whether you'd be interested in a second part.

[star-wars-writing]

The Snow globe

This is my story for the Life Day exchange 2024 for @alegendoftomorrow.

Prompts:  “The lights are beautiful.”-  “Yeah they are.” Neither of them are looking at the lights. || “Are you sure this is part of the celebrations?” -  “Positive…. maybe….. probably.”

A/N: Thanks again to @cloneficgiftexchange for making this possible. They were some fun prompts to work with. I apologise for the day's delay, I had been going at it, it's pretty long as you'll see and work had been crazy, I wanted it to be perfect. I just hope that you'll love every second it as much as I had fun writing it. It's a bit different, but that's fine in these sorts of things. I'd love to know your thoughts on it.

there are no warnings needed for this story, maybe just for it's length.

On A03

word length: 14 323

The hum of the ship’s engines filled the cabin, steady and rhythmic, as the stars of hyperspace streaked across the viewport. The ship was alive with the sound of voices, playful banter bouncing off the metal walls. It had been a long time since they’d all been together like this—no battles, no orders, no looming war. Just brothers, traveling through space toward a promise of peace and something new.

Jesse stretched out on a crate in the corner, helmet balanced on his knee. “I’m just saying, if this thing falls apart mid-flight, I’m blaming Tech. He’s the one who’s supposed to know every single bolt and wire in this tin can.”

Tech didn’t even glance back from the co-pilot’s chair. “The Havoc Marauder is structurally sound and fully functional. Any mechanical failure would be statistically improbable.”

“Right, and ‘statistically improbable’ means nothing when you’re spiraling toward a planet,” Jesse shot back with a smirk, leaning his head against the wall. “Fives, back me up.”

“Depends,” Fives replied from across the cabin, leaning lazily against the bulkhead. “Do I get to be the one piloting when it happens? Because I bet I could land this thing better than Cody.”

Cody turned his head from the pilot’s chair, arching a brow. “You’d be lucky to hit the planet at all, Fives. Remember the time you drove a speeder into a tree? Or should I say, through a tree?”

That earned a round of laughs. Even Echo, who usually kept his comments to himself during these exchanges, let a smile slip. Fives raised his hands in mock surrender. “That tree came out of nowhere! Besides, we’ve all made mistakes.”

“Not mistakes like that,” Echo said under his breath, his grin widening when Fives pointed an accusing finger at him.

“It’s not my fault that tree had something against me,” Fives huffed, crossing his arms. “Anyway, what’s this planet called again? Idelmor?”

“It’s supposed to be some kind of winter paradise,” Jesse said, tipping his helmet off his knee and spinning it idly. “Snow-covered hills, cozy villages, all that storybook stuff.”

“Storybook?” Crosshair’s voice came from the shadows where he lounged, his toothpick twitching lazily between his fingers. “Sounds boring. Unless there’s a good fight waiting.”

“No fights,” Cody said firmly, turning back to the controls. “That’s the point. We’re supposed to relax for once.”

“Relax?” Wrecker’s booming voice came from the back of the ship as he stood, cracking his neck with an audible pop. “I’ll show you relaxing. You just point me in the direction of this ‘Christmas roast’ they’re supposed to have, and I’ll handle the rest.”

“That’s all you care about, isn’t it?” Crosshair muttered, though his smirk betrayed his amusement. “Food.”

“Damn right,” Wrecker said with a grin. “If this ‘Christmas’ thing involves feasting, count me in.”

“Christmas,” Tech interjected from the front, pushing up his goggles, “is an ancient tradition originating from Core Earth. It involves gift-giving, communal meals, and decorative customs designed to foster goodwill.”

“Yeah, yeah, goodwill,” Jesse cut in, rolling his eyes. “What about snowball fights? I heard they’re big on that here.”

“Snowball fights?” Kix, who had been quietly cleaning his medkit, raised an eyebrow. “You mean pelting each other with frozen water?”

“Exactly,” Jesse said, sitting up straighter, his grin widening. “It’s like a battle simulation, but fun.”

“Only you would think throwing snow at people is a battle simulation,” Kix replied, shaking his head. “You’d probably twist your ankle trying to dodge a snowball.”

“Twist my ankle? I’d be unstoppable!” Jesse said, puffing out his chest. “Mark my words, I’m going to bury you all in snow.”

“You’ll be too busy running from Wrecker,” Echo muttered, earning a chuckle from the others.

“You’ve got that right!” Wrecker bellowed, punching the air. “I’m gonna flatten you all.”

“Not if you trip over your own feet,” Crosshair said, smirking. “Again.”

The cabin filled with laughter, the kind of unguarded sound that only came from moments like these. Rex, leaning against the bulkhead near the cockpit, watched it all with a faint smile. His arms were crossed, his stance relaxed, but there was a quiet weight to his expression. It felt good, being here with them like this. It reminded him of the barracks, back when the galaxy wasn’t such a heavy place to carry.

“You’re quiet,” Cody said, glancing over his shoulder at Rex. “You alright?”

Rex shrugged, his smile lingering as he looked out at the glowing blue of hyperspace. “Yeah. Just… good to see them like this. Feels normal.”

Cody nodded, a rare softness in his tone. “It’s been a long time coming.”

Rex didn’t reply, but his eyes lingered on the group—the way Fives leaned into every word, the way Kix shook his head at their antics, the way Wrecker’s laugh echoed like thunder. They were all still here. That was enough, for now.

The ship shuddered slightly as it began its descent, Tech adjusting the controls with practiced ease. “Approaching Idelmor,” he announced. “Optimal landing conditions. Minimal atmospheric interference.”

“Minimal interference?” Wrecker grinned. “Sounds like a smooth landing for once.”

“Try not to break anything before we even touch down,” Crosshair said.

“Try not to break the planet with your bad attitude,” Wrecker shot back, folding his arms.

As the ship pierced through the atmosphere, the viewport filled with a dazzling view of Idelmor: rolling hills blanketed in snow, evergreen trees that glistened like crystals, and a cluster of warm lights marking the small village below. Smoke curled from chimneys, and the faint glow of lanterns illuminated the streets, casting a golden hue against the soft blue of twilight.

For a moment, the cabin fell silent as the sight sunk in.

“Well,” Fives said, breaking the quiet, “if that doesn’t look like the perfect vacation, I don’t know what does.”

“Let’s hope their food’s as good as their scenery,” Wrecker added, his excitement evident as he grabbed his gear.

Rex remained still, his eyes fixed on the village below. The glow of the lights reflected in his gaze, stirring something faint but steady in his chest—something that felt, just for a moment, like hope.

*** 

The ramp of the Havoc Marauder hissed open, spilling cold air into the ship’s warm cabin. Rex was the first to step out, his boots crunching against the packed snow at the base of the ramp. His breath misted in the frigid air as he glanced around, his senses keenly aware of the sudden stillness that came with setting foot on a new planet.

The village of Elycara lay a short walk ahead, nestled into the base of a hill that rolled up toward a dense forest of evergreen trees. Lights flickered warmly from the windows of stone and timber cottages, their rooftops heavy with snow. Smoke curled from chimneys, mixing with the faint scent of pine and something sweeter—spiced, comforting. Lanterns hung along the main path leading into the village, casting a soft glow over the white ground.

The galaxy, for all its vastness, had rarely offered Rex a sight like this: untouched, quiet, alive without chaos.

Behind him, the others stepped out into the cold. Jesse whistled low, his breath visible in the sharp air. “Would you look at that,” he murmured, eyes scanning the scene before them. “I didn’t think places like this actually existed.”

“They do,” Cody said, descending the ramp with practiced precision, his boots crunching into the snow. His gaze swept over the village, assessing as he always did, but there was no tension in his expression. “Rare, but they do.”

“It’s picturesque,” Tech said from behind, his tone clinically observant. He adjusted his goggles, the lenses catching the lantern light. “Precisely the sort of settlement one would expect to find associated with a holiday tradition. Communal, centered around warmth and shared experiences—quite fascinating, really.”

“Fascinating is one word for it,” Fives muttered, brushing his gloves together as he stepped off the ramp. “Another is freezing.”

“You’ve survived harsher than this,” Echo replied, pulling his scarf tighter around his neck. His voice was soft, but his tone held the familiar, dry humor that always came out when he felt at ease. “Don’t act like a cadet.”

Fives grinned, nudging him with an elbow. “A cadet would’ve taken one look at this snow and gone back inside. I’m still standing, aren’t I?”

The sound of snow crunching behind them was punctuated by Wrecker’s booming laugh. “Standing for now, maybe. You’re gonna fall on your face as soon as you hit that icy patch over there.” He pointed toward the trail leading into the village, where the snow gleamed slick in the lantern light.

“Careful, or I’ll push you into it first,” Fives shot back, though the smile on his face softened the threat.

Crosshair, lagging at the back of the group, clicked his tongue as he adjusted his coat. “You’ll both fall if you keep flapping your mouths instead of watching where you’re walking.”

Rex couldn’t help but smile at the exchange, the corners of his mouth tugging upward. The banter felt… normal. Like the old days. Before everything had been taken from them.

His attention turned toward the village again, and as they began walking down the trail, his thoughts quieted. The snow underfoot was firm but not slippery, and the cold was sharp enough to sting his nose. He glanced around, catching the expressions of his brothers as they took in their surroundings.

Kix was walking with his head slightly tilted, his sharp eyes scanning the buildings for any sign of their local medical center—always assessing, always ready. Jesse walked beside him, hands stuffed into his gloves, his gaze drawn to the glowing windows of the cottages, where faint shadows of movement hinted at the lives inside.

Wrecker, on the other hand, couldn’t seem to stay still as they walked. His grin was broad, and every few paces, he pointed something out—a particularly tall evergreen, a child’s sled abandoned near the edge of the road, a flickering lantern swaying slightly in the breeze. “Look at that!” he said, nudging Crosshair, who merely rolled his eyes but didn’t bother responding.

Rex’s gaze settled on Cody, walking slightly ahead. His old commander’s posture was straight as ever, but there was something different in his expression. His eyes, usually so calculating, lingered on the village’s distant square, where a towering tree glittered with golden lights. Cody didn’t speak, but there was a faint crease in his brow that Rex recognized—thoughtful, maybe even wistful.

“You ever think we’d end up somewhere like this?” Rex asked, his voice low enough for only Cody to hear.

Cody glanced at him, his breath puffing in the cold. “No,” he admitted after a pause. “Not once.”

Rex nodded, his attention shifting back to the village. They were close enough now to hear the sounds of laughter and faint music drifting through the air. A group of villagers passed them on the road, carrying baskets filled with brightly wrapped parcels. One of the villagers—a boy no older than seven—stared at them wide-eyed, his gaze sweeping over their gear and their faces with unabashed curiosity.

“Evening,” Cody said, offering a nod. The boy’s mother smiled at them before gently steering her son onward.

“They’re not afraid of us,” Echo observed, his tone quiet but tinged with something hard to name—relief, maybe. “Not even wary.”

Rex knew what he meant. For years, their presence on a planet had been accompanied by war. They were symbols of conflict, instruments of strategy. But here, walking into a village lit with lanterns and filled with laughter, they weren’t soldiers. They were just… visitors.

The thought stuck with Rex as they entered the square. The towering tree at its center was breathtaking, its branches weighed down with ornaments of every size and shape. Garlands of greenery looped between the buildings, and wooden stalls lined the edges of the square, their shelves stacked with trinkets, steaming mugs, and warm pastries.

“It smells amazing,” Wrecker said, sniffing the air like a man starved. “What is that?”

“Likely cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves… possibly mulled wine,” Tech answered, his tone as clinical as ever. “All traditional holiday spices.”

“Traditional or not, I’m finding out where it’s coming from,” Wrecker declared, already scanning the stalls for the source.

Rex let him go, his attention drawn to a nearby shop at the edge of the square. Its windows were fogged from the warmth inside, and the faint glow of golden light spilled through the cracks of the wooden door. Something about it pulled at him, though he couldn’t say why.

Cody noticed. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” Rex said, though his voice was distant. “I’ll catch up with you.”

Cody gave him a long look before nodding. The others moved on, drawn by the liveliness of the market, but Rex stayed behind. He stood there for a moment longer, watching the shop as if waiting for it to reveal something to him. Then, shaking his head, he stepped forward, pushing the door open with a creak, followed by the soft chime of a bell overhead. 

Warmth wrapped around him instantly, a stark contrast to the biting chill outside. The air smelled of aged wood, faintly sweet spices, and something softer—vanilla, maybe. It was the kind of scent that invited you to linger, to breathe it in like a memory you didn’t want to let go of.

The door eased shut behind him, cutting off the distant laughter and chatter of the village square. In its place was the quiet murmur of a crackling fireplace tucked somewhere in the back. Rex took a step forward, his boots sinking into a worn but colorful rug, and he paused to take in his surroundings.

The shop was small but overflowing with character, every inch of it thoughtfully curated. Shelves lined the walls, filled with books whose spines ranged from leather-bound tomes to tattered paperbacks. Trinkets and antiques rested on tables and in glass cases, everything from ornate clocks to delicate porcelain figurines. A cozy nook in the corner drew his eye, where a plush couch sat beneath a window frosted with snow, a small stack of books and a steaming mug resting on a low table beside it.

It was the kind of place you could lose yourself in. Not by accident, but because you wanted to. Rex found himself lingering near the threshold, his hand still resting on the door as though afraid to step any further, like his presence might break the spell of the room.

“Welcome,” came a voice from behind the counter, soft but clear.

Rex turned, and for a moment, he forgot to speak. The woman standing there—(Y/n), as he’d learn later—was leaning over a small box of ornaments, brushing her hands free of some glittering powder. She had a warm but easy expression, her lips curled into a natural smile that somehow felt like an invitation rather than politeness. Loose strands of chestnut-brown hair fell from her braid, framing a face lit with curiosity. Her eyes, a bright, striking blue, flicked up to meet his, and she tilted her head ever so slightly.

“Not many visitors come in and stop right there,” she said, her voice laced with a hint of amusement. “You’re either deeply unimpressed or deeply overwhelmed. Which one is it?”

Rex blinked, his hand dropping from the door as he realized he’d been standing there too long. “Neither,” he said quickly, his voice rougher than he intended. He cleared his throat, glancing around the shop. “It’s just… not what I expected.”

Her smile softened, and she gestured loosely to the shelves around them. “Most people say that. My father always liked to say this place doesn’t really feel like a shop. He wanted it to feel like… I don’t know, an escape.”

Rex nodded, stepping further inside. “It works.”

(Y/n)’s smile lingered as she watched him. He moved with a quiet presence, his posture straight but not rigid, his gloved hands brushing lightly over the edges of a nearby shelf. He wasn’t just looking at the items on display—he was absorbing the space, taking in every detail as though it might vanish if he didn’t. She recognized something in that—a carefulness that spoke of someone who wasn’t used to letting his guard down.

“Take your time,” she said, her voice gentle, before turning her attention back to the box on the counter. She lifted an ornament from it—a delicate glass star—and began tying a silver ribbon through the loop.

Rex’s eyes followed her hands briefly before he turned his attention back to the shelves. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for—or if he was even looking for anything at all. But the atmosphere here, warm and alive in its quiet way, seemed to settle something in his chest he hadn’t realized was restless.

As he moved toward the center of the shop, his gaze caught on a table near the window. At its center was a snow globe, simple but beautifully crafted. Inside, a miniature version of the village square shimmered beneath a swirl of fine, silvery flakes. He hesitated before reaching for it, his fingers brushing the cool glass as he turned it gently in his hands.

“You’re drawn to that one, huh?” (Y/n)’s voice came from just behind him, light and curious. He hadn’t heard her move, and he glanced over his shoulder to find her standing a few steps away, the same easy smile on her face. “It’s a favorite around here.”

Rex looked back at the snow globe, watching the flakes settle. “It’s… detailed,” he said, unsure of what else to say. His voice softened. “It looks just like the square.”

“It should,” (Y/n) said, stepping closer. Her tone was quieter now, almost reverent. “My father made it. He was a woodworker and a craftsman. The base is carved from the trees up near the north ridge. He used to say every snow globe needed to feel like it carried a whole world inside it.”

Rex’s thumb brushed the edge of the wooden base, smooth but etched with subtle patterns. “It does feel like that.”

(Y/n) studied him for a moment, her gaze flicking to the way he held the snow globe—not casually, but carefully, like it was something precious. “There’s a story about that one,” she said. “They say if you hold it and think of someone, it’ll show you their heart’s greatest wish.”

Rex raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into the barest hint of a skeptical smile. “Magic?”

“Maybe,” (Y/n) said with a shrug, her expression unreadable. “Or maybe it’s just a good excuse for people to imagine something they want to see.”

He held the snow globe a moment longer, the words hanging in the air between them. Then, setting it gently back on the table, he met her gaze again. “You don’t actually believe that, do you?”

Her smile tilted, playful but soft. “I think there’s a little truth in every story. Don’t you?”

Rex didn’t answer right away. Instead, he glanced around the shop again, letting his gaze sweep over the books, the trinkets, the little pieces of other lives that filled the room. Finally, he said, “Maybe. Depends on the story.”

(Y/n) chuckled, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Fair enough.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke, the only sound the faint crackle of the fireplace in the back. But something about the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt like a pause in the middle of a song—natural, even necessary.

Rex cleared his throat and stepped back toward the shelves. “Your father—he must’ve been proud of this place.”

(Y/n)’s smile faltered slightly, though she recovered quickly. “He was,” she said softly. “He built it to be a place where people could find… something they didn’t know they were looking for.”

Rex glanced at her, her words settling over him like the warmth of the shop itself. “Maybe he was onto something.”

Lingering by the shelves as (Y/n) moved back to the counter, where she resumed sorting through the ornaments with slow, deliberate movements. The silence between them wasn’t heavy, but it carried the quiet weight of curiosity. Rex’s eyes drifted again to the snow globe resting on the small table near the window. Something about it stayed with him—maybe it was the delicate craftsmanship or the way (Y/n) had described it, as though it held a world in its fragile casing. Too whimsical for someone like him, he thought, but it tugged at him all the same.

(Y/n) caught herself glancing at him from the corner of her eye as she worked, drawn to the quiet intensity he carried. His movements were measured, his posture always alert, like someone who never fully let down his guard. Yet beneath that, she sensed a weariness that went beyond the physical—a heaviness that had settled into his bones and stayed. She’d seen it before in others, but not quite like this.

“You’re not from here,” she said finally, her voice breaking the stillness with the lightness of an observation.

“No,” Rex replied, turning to face her slightly. “Just passing through.”

“With your friends?” (Y/n) asked, motioning vaguely toward the door with the ornament still in her hand.

Rex nodded. “Yeah. We travel together when we can.”

“Close group, then.”

“You could say that,” Rex said. His voice grew quieter as he hesitated, as though weighing whether to say more. Finally, he added, “We’ve been through a lot together.”

(Y/n) looked up, her gaze locking onto him. She noticed the way his jaw tightened just slightly, the way his hands flexed at his sides, as though memories were threatening to push past the barriers he kept so tightly in place. She recognized that look—it was the same one she’d seen in the eyes of the few villagers who had returned from the galaxy’s war. The ones who had left to help but had come back quieter, changed, heavier.

“We heard about the war,” she said softly, setting the ornament down. She kept her tone gentle, careful. “Even out here.”

Rex’s expression sharpened slightly, but not with hostility. It was reflexive—the instinct to assess and protect kicking in the moment someone mentioned the war. He studied her face, looking for the subtle cues people gave away when they talked about soldiers like him. Judgment, pity, fear… but he didn’t see any of those. Just quiet understanding.

“You didn’t see much of it,” he said after a pause.

(Y/n) shook her head, leaning against the counter and crossing her arms loosely. “No. Idelmor’s quiet. Tucked far enough away that it felt like we were watching the war from the other side of a viewport. We heard the stories, though. And a few of our people felt the call to help.”

Rex tilted his head slightly. “The call?”

“To fight,” (Y/n) explained, her voice dropping just slightly. “Or to heal, to build. To do whatever they could. Most of them didn’t come back.”

The words sat heavily in the space between them, though (Y/n) didn’t avert her gaze. She saw the flicker of emotion in Rex’s eyes—sorrow, perhaps, or something heavier. Guilt. It was brief but unmistakable, and it told her everything she needed to know. 

“That happened in a lot of places,” Rex said finally, his voice quieter now.

(Y/n) nodded, her expression softening. She wanted to ask more, to learn the pieces of his story he wasn’t saying, but she knew that prying wouldn’t work. Some stories were only told when someone was ready. So instead, she stepped away from the counter, leaning her hip against the edge and letting the silence settle for a moment.

“I knew you were clones when you walked in,” she said gently, her voice measured, like she was testing the weight of her words.

Rex stiffened, though not entirely with surprise. He had wondered if the people here would recognize them, even in the absence of their armor.

“I see it in the way you move,” (Y/n) continued, watching his reaction carefully. “Not just you—all of you. There’s a purpose to it. A weight. But… that’s not all I see.”

Rex met her eyes, unsure what to say. He’d been stared at before, studied like an oddity or a relic of a war no one wanted to remember. He braced himself for the usual follow-up: the questions, the curiosity, the polite pity.

But (Y/n) smiled faintly and shrugged. “I see people,” she said simply. “That’s what matters to me.”

For a moment, Rex said nothing. He wasn’t sure if it was because he didn’t believe her or because he didn’t know how to process the quiet sincerity in her tone. He shifted his weight slightly, glancing back at the snow globe. “Most people don’t see it that way.”

“Maybe most people aren’t looking close enough,” (Y/n) said, tilting her head slightly. “You don’t strike me as just a soldier. Not anymore.”

Her words landed in the quiet, not harsh or heavy, but matter-of-fact. Rex felt them settle in his chest, not entirely comfortable but not unwelcome either.

“You and your friends—are you staying in the village?” she asked after a moment, her tone lightening.

“Not yet,” Rex admitted. “We only just arrived.”

“Well,” (Y/n) said, a small smile curling at her lips, “I might have something for you. There’s a holiday cottage near the market square. It’s small, but it’s warm, and it has enough room for a group. A family used to run it, but they moved away a few years ago. I keep it up for travelers who come through.”

Rex raised a brow. “You keep a whole cottage just in case someone passes by?”

(Y/n) shrugged, her smile growing. “It’s a small village. We don’t get many strangers, but the ones we do usually leave something behind—stories, mostly. The kind worth keeping.”

Rex studied her for a long moment, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Sounds like you’ve made this place more than just a shop.”

“It’s what my father wanted,” (Y/n) replied, her voice softening. “I just try to keep it alive.”

He nodded, glancing toward the door as if he could still hear the voices of his brothers outside. “I’ll talk to them. It might be nice to stay somewhere that isn’t a starship for once.”

“It’s yours if you want it,” (Y/n) said, her tone as warm as the firelight flickering in the corner. “I can show you where it is if you’d like.”

Rex hesitated before nodding. “Thanks.”

As they stepped outside, the cold stung at his face again, but it didn’t feel as biting as before. (Y/n) gestured toward a narrow path leading off the square, explaining the location as they walked. Rex caught glimpses of his brothers in the distance—Fives and Jesse laughing near a food stall, Wrecker towering over a group of villagers, Kix examining a trinket in a shop window.

For the first time in what felt like years, they weren’t soldiers. They were just… people. Rex let the thought settle in his mind as (Y/n)’s voice carried softly beside him. Maybe that was the real gift this place had to offer.

*** 

The crackling of the fire filled the cozy sitting room of the holiday cottage, the warm glow casting dancing shadows on the wooden walls. The boys had settled in quickly, their laughter and voices filling the space like it had always belonged to them. Jesse was sprawled on one of the couches, gesturing animatedly as he shared some tale from their earlier exploration of the village. Wrecker had already claimed the chair nearest the fire, his massive frame dwarfed by the oversized blanket he’d pulled over his shoulders, grinning as he polished off yet another helping of the pastries they’d brought back.

“Tell me that wasn’t the best pie you’ve ever had,” Wrecker declared, pointing at Echo, who sat at the table, carefully flipping through an old book he’d found on one of the shelves.

Echo didn’t look up. “It was fine.”

“Fine?” Wrecker’s voice boomed. “That wasn’t just pie, Echo. That was a masterpiece.”

Fives, lounging in a chair near the window, smirked. “You call anything with sugar a masterpiece.”

“Because it is!” Wrecker shot back, though his grin was broad. “And if you don’t agree, I’ll eat yours too.”

Cody leaned against the doorframe leading into the kitchen, his arms crossed, watching the scene unfold with the faintest tilt of amusement on his lips. “At least we’re not eating rations,” he said dryly, and a chorus of groans filled the room.

“You had to remind us,” Jesse muttered. “Don’t ruin a good thing, Cody.”

Rex sat apart from the others, perched on a chair near the window with his arms resting on his knees, his eyes distant. Outside, the village square was illuminated by the warm glow of lanterns and the towering tree in the center, its golden lights shimmering like a dream against the snow. The sounds of faint laughter and holiday cheer drifted in through the glass, mingling with the warmth of the fire inside.

It was… peaceful. And yet, that peace felt foreign, like a new pair of boots that hadn’t quite been broken in yet.

“You’re quiet,” Cody said, his voice low but not unkind as he stepped closer to Rex. He leaned a shoulder against the wall, studying his brother with careful eyes. “That’s not like you.”

Rex shook his head faintly, a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “It’s nothing. Just… taking it all in.”

Cody hummed, unconvinced, but didn’t push. He straightened, nodding toward the table. “You’re the only one who hasn’t picked something out of the basket. Go grab a pastry before Wrecker eats them all.”

Rex huffed a laugh, though his heart wasn’t entirely in it. “I’m good. I think I’ll step out for a bit.”

Cody raised a brow but said nothing, only watching as Rex rose to his feet and grabbed his coat. The cold air greeted him as he stepped outside, biting at his face and ears, but it wasn’t unwelcome. It cleared his head, sharpened his focus. He pulled his gloves tighter and started toward the shop at the edge of the square, the light spilling through its windows as inviting as it had been the first time.

*** 

The bell chimed softly as Rex stepped inside, and the warmth of the shop wrapped around him like a familiar embrace. (Y/n) looked up from where she stood behind the counter, her hands busy with another box of ornaments. Her face brightened when she saw him.

“Rex,” she greeted, her smile easy and genuine. “Back so soon?”

He stepped forward, glancing around the shop. It was quieter now, the evening hours leaving it almost empty, but the fire in the corner still crackled, and the cozy atmosphere hadn’t waned. “I wanted to thank you again,” he said, his voice steady but warm. “The cottage—it’s perfect. The others are… well, they’re making themselves at home.”

(Y/n) laughed softly, setting down the ornament she’d been tying a ribbon through. “I’m glad. It’s been a while since anyone stayed there. It’s nice to know it’s being used.”

Rex nodded, his gaze drifting again to the snow globe on the table near the window. The swirling flakes inside caught the light just so, almost hypnotic in their simplicity. He hesitated, his hands slipping into his pockets, and (Y/n) noticed.

“Still curious about it?” she asked, her tone light.

Rex looked at her, then back at the globe. “It’s… interesting. The way you talked about it before, like it holds some kind of magic.”

(Y/n) tilted her head, stepping out from behind the counter. “It doesn’t have to be magic to mean something,” she said softly. “Sometimes it’s enough that it makes us think.”

She stopped beside the table, resting her hand lightly on the edge of the globe. “If you want to try it, you should. No pressure,” she added quickly, her blue eyes meeting his. “But if there’s someone you’re thinking about…”

Rex hesitated again, the weight of her gaze steady but not prying. He stepped forward, his movements deliberate, and reached out for the globe. It was cool in his hands, smooth and solid, and as he tilted it slightly, the flakes inside swirled to life, spinning in slow, mesmerizing patterns.

He thought of Cody.

The vision was instant, clear as though he were standing in it himself. Cody was here, in Idelmor, not as a visitor but as a cornerstone of the community. Rex saw him in the village square, surrounded by a group of clones—brothers Rex recognized and some he didn’t. They were laughing, their expressions open and free, and the villagers mingled among them as if there had never been a war, as if there were no distinction between them.

Cody stood taller than Rex had seen him in years, his posture steady, his face calm but content. He was a leader here, but not of a battlefield—of a home. There was no armor, no orders to give, just a sense of purpose that seemed to radiate from him. It wasn’t just Cody who belonged here, Rex realized. It was all of them.

The vision faded, the flakes settling back into place, and Rex was left staring at the globe, his chest tight.

“Rex?” (Y/n)’s voice broke through gently, pulling him back. He looked up to find her watching him, her brow furrowed with concern. “What did you see?”

He swallowed, setting the globe back on the table carefully. His voice was quieter when he spoke. “A future,” he said simply. “One I didn’t think we’d ever have.”

(Y/n)’s expression softened, and she tilted her head slightly. “And now?”

Rex looked at her, his jaw tightening slightly. He didn’t know how to explain the ache in his chest—the mix of hope and uncertainty, the weight of what could be and the fear of reaching for it.

“Now,” he said finally, his voice steadier, “I think it’s worth trying to make it real.”

***** 

The fire crackled in the hearth of the cottage, casting warm light over the room as Rex leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed and his thoughts distant. The others were spread out in their usual relaxed chaos—Fives and Jesse were playing cards at the dining table, their banter loud enough to drown out most of the quiet outside. Wrecker had sprawled across the couch, snoring softly, a half-empty mug of spiced cider resting precariously on the armrest beside him. Tech and Echo sat together near the window, both pouring over something on a datapad, their low murmurs blending into the background.

Cody stood by the fireplace, one hand resting on the mantle as he stared into the flames. His face was as stoic as ever, but Rex knew him well enough to see the subtle tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw tightened ever so slightly. It was the posture of a man who had spent too much time thinking about things he hadn’t said.

Rex cleared his throat. “Cody, can I talk to you?”

The subtle shift in Cody’s expression was immediate—curiosity, edged with caution. He nodded once, motioning toward the kitchen. The two of them moved away from the others, their boots scuffing softly against the wooden floor.

“What’s on your mind?” Cody asked, leaning back against the counter, his arms crossed.

Rex hesitated, the words tangling in his mind before they could take shape. He hadn’t told anyone about what he’d seen in the snow globe—Cody, standing tall and sure in a place like this, surrounded by brothers who had once been lost. It wasn’t just an idle vision; it had felt real, like a glimpse of a future they hadn’t dared to believe was possible.

“I’ve been thinking about this place,” Rex said finally, his voice low. “About what it could mean for us.”

“For us?” Cody raised a brow, his tone calm but curious. “You mean just us, or…?”

“I mean all of us,” Rex said, gesturing faintly toward the main room. “The others. The brothers we’ve lost touch with. The ones who never found a place to land after the war. This planet… it’s quiet, Cody. Safe. It could be a home.”

Cody’s jaw tightened, and his gaze dropped to the floor. “You’re talking about bringing more clones here.”

“Yeah,” Rex said, his voice firm but not pushy. “We’ve spent the last year scattered, trying to find ways to survive in a galaxy that doesn’t know what to do with us anymore. But here… here we could build something. Together.”

Cody let out a slow breath, his shoulders stiffening as he mulled over the words. “You’ve been here for one day, Rex. You think that’s enough to know if this place can handle more of us?”

“It’s not about the time,” Rex said, stepping closer. His voice softened, though it carried a note of urgency. “It’s about what I see here. The villagers—they’re good people. They’ve welcomed us. And this isn’t like Coruscant or some Outer Rim scrap heap. There’s room here, Cody. Room for them and for us.”

Cody met his gaze, his amber eyes sharp but conflicted. “You don’t know how they’ll feel if we bring more. A few clones, sure. But an entire community? You know how people are, Rex. We’re soldiers to them—symbols of a war they’re trying to forget.”

Rex frowned, understanding the weight of Cody’s hesitation but unwilling to let it stop him. “I’ve seen the way they look at us. They don’t see soldiers, Cody. They see people. And maybe, if we give them the chance, they’ll welcome more of us.”

Cody stared at him for a long moment, his thoughts clear in the tension of his brow. Finally, he let out a slow breath, his arms uncrossing as he leaned back against the counter. “It’s not just about them,” he said quietly. “It’s about the brothers, too. What if they don’t want this? What if they’ve given up on the idea of a home?”

“Then we invite the ones who do,” Rex replied, his voice steady. “And we let them decide for themselves.”

Cody was silent, his gaze drifting toward the flickering fire in the other room. Finally, he nodded, though it was reluctant. “Fine. We’ll send out a call. But if this backfires…”

“It won’t,” Rex said firmly, though he could feel the weight of Cody’s doubts. “You’ll see.”

*** 

It didn’t take long for the call to go out. Fives and Jesse worked with Tech and Echo to send encrypted messages to every channel they could find—old comms networks, secured frequencies they hadn’t touched since the war. The message was simple but powerful: There’s a place for you. Come if you’re looking for a home.

The days that followed were filled with quiet anticipation, each of them trying not to let their hopes rise too high. But then the first ship arrived.

And then another.

And another.

**** 

The first to step off the landing platform were the brothers they hadn’t seen in months—men who had drifted after the war, some tired, some wary, all of them carrying the weight of survival on their shoulders. Rex and Cody were there to greet them, their presence enough to ease the tension in those first hesitant moments.

Then, unexpectedly, a familiar figure emerged from one of the ships, her orange montrals unmistakable in the winter sun. Ahsoka smiled softly as she approached, her eyes filled with quiet relief. “Rex,” she said, her voice warm as she embraced him. “I thought I’d find you here.”

Rex blinked, surprised but pleased. “What are you doing here?”

“Word travels fast,” she said with a slight smirk, gesturing to the other figures descending from the ship. “I wasn’t the only one who heard. Obi-Wan and Plo Koon thought it might be time to visit, too.”

Rex turned, his chest tightening at the sight of Obi-Wan, his robe wrapped tightly around him as he walked toward them, his expression calm but warm. Plo Koon followed, his steady presence grounding in a way that reminded Rex of the days when the Jedi had been their allies, their commanders, their friends.

**** 

At first, the villagers were cautious, watching the growing influx of clones and Jedi with quiet curiosity. But as the days passed, that curiosity turned into something warmer. The villagers approached, offering food, supplies, even homes that had been empty for years. They asked questions—not about the war, but about the brothers themselves, their lives, their stories.

(Y/n) played no small part in this. Her shop became a hub of activity, her easy warmth drawing people in, bridging gaps that might have otherwise grown between the clones and the villagers. She met every new arrival with a calm smile and a welcoming word, and Rex found himself watching her often, struck by the quiet strength in her presence.

****

As more brothers arrived, the village began to shift, growing into something new. The clones settled in quickly, taking on roles within the community—builders, farmers, teachers. Cody, though reluctant at first, became a natural leader, his steady hand and calm demeanor earning the trust of both the brothers and the villagers.

Rex stood at the edge of the square one evening, watching the glow of lanterns and the laughter of brothers and villagers mingling together. (Y/n) appeared at his side, her arms crossed loosely as she smiled at the scene.

“You did it,” she said quietly.

“We did it,” Rex corrected, his voice soft.

(Y/n) looked up at him, her smile lingering. “So… what’s next?”

Rex didn’t answer immediately, his gaze fixed on the warm, growing light of the village. “We build,” he said finally. “And we make it last.”

**** 

The first thaw of spring came like a whisper, soft and slow. Snow that had blanketed the hills melted into quiet streams, feeding the rivers that snaked their way through Idelmor. The village square, once muffled and still under layers of white, began to buzz with life. Stalls returned, their counters piled with goods that hinted at the promise of the new season. Children darted through the streets, splashing in puddles with joyful abandon, while villagers emerged from their homes with smiles and hopeful energy.

In the midst of it all, Rex stood with Kix and Fives in the square. (Y/n) was nearby, chatting with a vendor as she purchased a bundle of fresh herbs. Rex’s attention wasn’t on the square or even on (Y/n), though he glanced her way more than he cared to admit. His focus was on Kix and Fives, both of whom had begun speaking at once, their ideas spilling out in a chaotic flurry.

“I’m telling you, Rex,” Kix said, his voice animated, his arms crossed over his chest. “The barn on the north ridge is perfect. It’s big enough for everything I need. We just need a way to get supplies and medical equipment.”

“And don’t forget the stories,” Fives interrupted, waving his hand. “We need a space where people can share them. Somewhere they feel comfortable—like a library, but better.”

“You’ve been here two months,” Rex said, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re already trying to redesign the village.”

“Not redesign,” Kix corrected. “Improve.”

Rex sighed, though there was no real frustration in it. He had expected this. His brothers had always been restless, their drive to make things better undiminished even in peace. And though he sometimes envied their clarity of purpose, he couldn’t deny the flicker of pride he felt watching them dream.

Nearby, (Y/n) turned just in time to catch the end of their conversation. She stepped closer, the bundle of herbs tucked neatly under her arm. “It sounds like you’ve got big plans,” she said lightly, her blue eyes bright with curiosity.

“They always do,” Rex muttered, shaking his head.

Fives grinned, gesturing broadly as if he were presenting a grand vision. “It’s not just a plan. It’s a future. A clinic for Kix, a network for stories, and who knows what else.”

“Sounds ambitious,” (Y/n) said, smiling as she looked at Kix. “But if anyone can pull it off, it’s you.”

Kix gave her a grateful nod, his expression softening. “It’s not just about me. It’s for everyone.”

(Y/n) tilted her head, thoughtful. “If it’s supplies you’re worried about, I might know a few people who can help. Farmers in the area sometimes trade goods with traveling merchants. Medical equipment isn’t common, but I can ask around.”

Kix’s face lit up, and even Fives stopped mid-gesture to look at her. “You’d do that?” Kix asked.

“Of course,” (Y/n) said, her tone matter-of-fact. “It’s a small village. We help each other.”

Rex watched the exchange in silence, something warm flickering in his chest. (Y/n) had a way of making things seem simple—natural, even. But what struck him most wasn’t her offer of help; it was the way she looked at his brothers, not with curiosity about who they’d been or what they were, but with quiet respect for who they were now.

**** 

The barn on the north ridge was little more than a skeleton of wood and stone when Rex and (Y/n) first walked through it with Kix. Dust motes floated in the sunlight streaming through the gaps in the walls, and the air smelled faintly of hay and damp earth. Kix stood in the center of the space, his boots scuffing against the floor as he turned in a slow circle, taking it all in.

“This could work,” he murmured, his voice thoughtful.

(Y/n) smiled, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “It’ll need some work, but it’s got good bones. And the view’s not bad either.”

Rex followed her gaze to the wide doorway at the far end of the barn, where the land sloped gently toward the village below. “It’s more than not bad,” he admitted. “You’re sure about the supplies?”

“I’ve already spoken to a merchant,” (Y/n) said. “He’ll be in town next week with a shipment of surplus supplies from one of the larger cities. And I think the villagers would be willing to pitch in with the repairs.”

Kix looked at her, his expression a mix of gratitude and quiet determination. “This… this is going to make a difference,” he said softly.

“It already is,” (Y/n) replied.

Rex watched the exchange, his gaze lingering on (Y/n) for a moment longer than he intended. There was something about the way she spoke, the way she believed in what Kix was trying to do, that tugged at him in a way he couldn’t quite name.

*** 

If the barn was Kix’s domain, the square became Fives’. He had a way of drawing people in, his energy infectious as he darted from stall to stall, chatting with villagers and brothers alike. It wasn’t long before he began setting up what he called “story circles”—gatherings where people shared tales of the war, of peace, of loss and hope.

(Y/n) became one of his strongest supporters, offering her shop as a space for the recordings he collected. She and Rex spent hours helping Fives sort through the recordings, labeling and organizing them with the kind of care that made each story feel important.

One evening, as they worked late in the shop, (Y/n) caught Rex staring at her. She raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a teasing smile. “What?”

“Nothing,” Rex said quickly, though his ears burned. “Just… you’re good at this.”

“At what?”

“At making people feel seen,” he said quietly.

Her smile softened, and for a moment, the warmth between them felt like something unspoken but shared.

**** 

Rex’s visits to (Y/n)’s shop became more frequent as the months passed. He told himself it was practical—there was always something to discuss, some plan to refine. But his brothers began to notice the subtle shifts in his behavior. The way he lingered just a bit longer than necessary when (Y/n) laughed. The way he’d fix small things around the shop—a creaky hinge, a leaky faucet—without being asked.

One afternoon, as they returned from helping Fives set up a recording session, Jesse nudged Fives with a grin. “You see the way he looks at her?”

Fives smirked, leaning back against the wall of the square. “Oh, I see it. The question is, does he see it?”

“He’s Rex,” Jesse said with a shrug. “He’ll be the last to admit it.”

“But he’s happier,” Fives said, his grin fading into something softer. “That’s what matters. 

***

The warm embrace of summer blanketed Idelmor, bringing with it longer days, golden light, and the gentle hum of progress. The village square buzzed with the energy of change, laughter and voices mingling with the sounds of hammers and saws, of crates being unloaded and carried into newly restored spaces. The call that had gone out months ago had not only brought more brothers but their ideas, their ambitions, and their willingness to shape this village into something more than a haven.

And through it all, Rex found himself drawn deeper into the rhythm of this growing community. It wasn’t just the work—it was the people. His brothers, the villagers, and (Y/n).

Always (Y/n).

****

The barn on the north ridge had undergone a transformation. The broken beams had been replaced with sturdy wood, the walls sealed with care, and the wide doorway now framed a view of rolling hills and the distant outline of the village below. Inside, the space was alive with purpose. Shelves stocked with medical supplies lined the walls, and clean, white curtains separated small treatment areas. A desk, repaired by Tech and polished to a shine by Jesse, sat near the front, where Kix now worked tirelessly to treat anyone who walked through the doors.

The villagers came first, hesitant at first but warmed by Kix’s steady, reassuring presence. Then more clones arrived, those who had spent years fighting injuries they couldn’t afford to treat, limping into the clinic with quiet hope.

Rex stood just inside the door one afternoon, watching as Kix bandaged the arm of a farmer who had taken a nasty fall. Jesse was in the corner, sorting a pile of donated blankets with his usual flair for humor.

“Hey, Rex,” Jesse called, tossing a bright orange blanket into the air like a cape. “Think this color would suit Kix?”

“Depends,” Kix replied without looking up from his work. “Will it keep the patients warm, or just blind them?”

The farmer chuckled, and even Rex cracked a smile as Jesse mockingly clutched his chest, pretending to stagger from the insult.

Nearby, (Y/n) stood beside Echo and Tech, who were working on installing a small communications terminal near the back of the clinic. She watched their movements with quiet fascination, her hands clutching a crate of fresh linens she’d brought to donate.

“Do they ever stop?” she asked Rex softly, her eyes flicking to Kix, Jesse, and the others.

“Not really,” Rex replied, his voice low but fond. “It’s how they’re wired.”

“And you?” (Y/n) asked, glancing at him with a small smile. “Do you ever stop?”

Rex hesitated, the question catching him off guard. He looked down at her, his brow furrowing slightly. “I don’t know,” he admitted after a pause. “I guess I don’t think about it much.”

“Well,” (Y/n) said, her voice teasing but gentle, “maybe you should.”

****

Meanwhile, Fives’ story circles had become a cornerstone of the village’s culture. What had started as small gatherings around a table in (Y/n)’s shop had grown into a full-fledged network. Fives now hosted weekly events in the square, where clones and villagers alike gathered to share tales of the past, their hopes for the future, and everything in between.

One evening, (Y/n) sat beside Rex on one of the benches near the circle, the glow of lanterns illuminating the faces of those gathered. Fives stood in the center, gesturing animatedly as he recounted a particularly daring mission from the war. The crowd laughed, some shaking their heads, others leaning forward with rapt attention.

“He’s good at this,” (Y/n) said, her voice warm as she watched Fives.

“He’s always been a talker,” Rex replied, though there was no annoyance in his tone. If anything, there was pride. “But he’s doing more than just talking. He’s building something.”

(Y/n) looked at Rex, her expression thoughtful. “You all are.”

Rex glanced at her, his chest tightening at the quiet conviction in her words. He wanted to say something, but the words tangled in his throat. Instead, he looked back at the circle, where Fives was now pulling Jesse into the spotlight to share a story of his own.

***

Further down the village road, an old granary had been repurposed into something entirely new—a school. It was Wolffe’s idea, born from his growing work with the children in the village and the small group of cadets who had arrived with the last wave of brothers. He had roped in Hardcase, Obi-Wan, and Plo Koon to help bring it to life, and together, they had built something remarkable.

Rex visited the school one afternoon, finding Wolffe in the middle of teaching a self-defense lesson to a group of children. Wrecker stood nearby, demonstrating a move with exaggerated flair, drawing peals of laughter from the kids. Plo Koon watched from the doorway, his presence calm and steady, while Obi-Wan helped Hardcase carry in a stack of wooden practice dummies.

“You think they’re ready for this?” Rex asked, leaning against the wall as he watched Wolffe bark instructions.

“They’ve got more patience than you’d expect,” Obi-Wan replied with a faint smile. “Especially Wolffe. He’s good with them.”

Rex nodded, his gaze shifting to the children. Their laughter filled the space, blending with Wolffe’s gruff encouragement and Wrecker’s booming cheer. It was a sound that felt out of place in his memories of the past but perfectly at home here.

**** 

Through all of it, (Y/n) remained a constant presence. She was there at the clinic, helping Kix organize supplies. She was there at the story circles, quietly encouraging villagers to share their voices. And she was there in the quiet moments, when Rex found himself lingering in her shop longer than he meant to.

One evening, after helping Fives carry a stack of recordings into the shop, Rex noticed (Y/n) struggling with a leaky faucet behind the counter. He stepped forward without thinking. “Let me take a look.”

(Y/n) straightened, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You don’t have to—”

“I’ve got it,” Rex said firmly, crouching down to inspect the pipes.

(Y/n) watched him work, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You’re full of surprises, you know that?”

Rex glanced up, raising a brow. “How so?”

“You lead an army, you build a community, and now you’re fixing faucets,” she teased, her tone light but warm. “What can’t you do?”

Rex shrugged, though his ears burned at the compliment. “Faucets are easier than people.”

(Y/n) laughed softly, and the sound settled something in him he hadn’t realized was restless.

****

Jesse and Fives caught the exchange from the doorway, both leaning against the frame with identical smirks.

“You see that?” Jesse whispered, elbowing Fives.

“Oh, I see it,” Fives replied, his grin widening. “He’s got it bad.”

“Think we should say something?” Jesse asked.

“Not a chance,” Fives said, crossing his arms. “This is too much fun to watch.”

As the summer stretched on, the brothers continued to notice the small moments—Rex lingering in the shop to help (Y/n) rearrange a shelf, the way his voice softened when he spoke to her, the way her smile seemed to brighten when he walked through the door. And though neither of them said it, it was clear to everyone around them: they were falling for each other, piece by quiet piece.

***

As the leaves began to turn and the air grew crisp, the village prepared for the next season. The clinic was thriving, the story circles had become a beloved tradition, and the school had grown into a cornerstone of the community. Through it all, Rex found himself looking forward to one thing above all else: the moments he shared with (Y/n).

And though he didn’t quite know what to call the feeling yet, he couldn’t deny it anymore. Whatever it was, it had become as much a part of him as the brothers he called family, as the home they were building together.

***

The days grew shorter as autumn deepened, the crisp air carrying the scent of fallen leaves and woodsmoke through the streets of Idelmor. The village square buzzed with quiet industry as preparations for the season’s harvest festival began. Rex found himself drawn more and more to (Y/n)’s shop—not just because of the warmth it offered or the comfort of the books and trinkets that filled its shelves, but because of (Y/n) herself.

It had become something of a routine. After long days spent helping Kix at the clinic or lending a hand at the school, Rex would find his way to the shop. Some days, it was to talk through plans for the village. Other days, it was simply to sit by the fire while (Y/n) worked, her presence grounding in a way he hadn’t expected.

**** 

The fire crackled softly in the hearth, its glow casting a warm light over the shop as Rex sat in his usual spot near the window. (Y/n) stood at the counter, her sleeves rolled up as she carefully polished a carved wooden box. She worked slowly, her focus intent, but her movements lacked their usual ease.

Rex noticed. He always noticed.

“You’re quiet tonight,” he said, his voice low but steady.

(Y/n) glanced up, startled out of her thoughts. She offered a small smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Just tired, I guess.”

Rex leaned back in his chair, studying her. He didn’t press, but he let the silence stretch between them, waiting.

Finally, (Y/n) sighed, setting the box down and brushing her hands against her apron. “I’ve been thinking about my father,” she admitted, her voice softer now. She crossed her arms, leaning against the counter. “He built this place, you know. Not just the shop, but… the heart of it. He wanted it to be a gathering place, somewhere people could come and feel at home. He called it ‘a place for stories.’”

Rex tilted his head, his expression thoughtful. “Sounds like he had a clear vision.”

“He did,” (Y/n) said, her gaze drifting to the shelves. “But sometimes I wonder if I’ve done enough to live up to it. The shop’s still here, but is it what he dreamed it would be? I don’t know. And now with all the changes in the village…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “It feels like I’m always one step behind.”

Rex let her words settle in the air before speaking. “I don’t think anyone here would say you’re behind.”

(Y/n) looked at him, her brow furrowing slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, look around,” Rex said, gesturing to the room. “The people who come in here—they don’t just see shelves and trinkets. They see a place where they can talk, share, connect. Fives wouldn’t have gotten his story circles off the ground without you. Kix wouldn’t have half his supplies. And me…” He paused, his voice softening. “I don’t think I would’ve found half the things I’ve been looking for without this place.”

(Y/n)’s breath hitched at his words, and for a moment, she didn’t know how to respond. The weight she carried, the worry that she wasn’t enough, didn’t vanish, but Rex’s words chipped away at it, leaving her feeling lighter, steadier.

*** 

(Y/n) stepped around the counter and sat in the chair opposite him, her hands folded in her lap. She studied him for a moment, her gaze steady. “What about you?” she asked gently. “What are you looking for, Rex?”

He hesitated, his jaw tightening. For years, he had carried the burden of being a leader, of keeping his brothers together. Even now, in this quiet village where the weight of war had lifted, he found himself unable to let go of the questions that had haunted him.

“I don’t know,” he said finally, his voice low. “I guess… I’ve spent so much of my life being told who I’m supposed to be. A soldier. A leader. I didn’t think about what came next because there was never supposed to be a ‘next.’”

(Y/n) tilted her head, her expression soft. “But now there is.”

“Yeah,” Rex admitted, his hands tightening into fists on his knees. “And it scares me. I see my brothers finding their places—Kix with his clinic, Fives with his stories, Wolffe at the school. But me? I don’t know if I’m built for this. Peace, home, belonging… It feels like something meant for other people.”

(Y/n) leaned forward, her gaze unwavering. “Why not you?”

Rex looked at her, his breath catching. Her question wasn’t just simple—it was powerful. It cut through the layers of doubt and fear he had buried himself in, leaving him exposed but not vulnerable.

“I don’t know,” he said again, his voice breaking slightly. “I’ve lost so many of them. Brothers who didn’t get a chance to figure out who they were beyond the war. I carry that with me, every day. And sometimes, it feels like… like I shouldn’t get to move forward if they can’t.”

(Y/n) reached out, resting a hand lightly on his arm. Her touch was warm, steady. “You carry their memory, Rex. That’s enough. But you deserve to live, too. Not for them, not because you’re trying to make up for what’s been lost, but because you’re here. You’re alive.”

Rex closed his eyes, the weight of her words sinking in. He didn’t speak, but he didn’t pull away, either. For the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to sit with the possibility that maybe—just maybe—she was right.

****

The following morning, Rex found himself at the shop again, his excuse this time being a leaky pipe (Y/n) had mentioned in passing. She wasn’t expecting him, and when he walked in with his toolbox slung over one shoulder, she blinked at him in surprise.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, setting down the stack of books she’d been organizing.

“You said something about a shelf that’s wobbly,” Rex replied, his voice gruff but not unkind. “Figured I’d take a look.”

(Y/n) smiled, shaking her head. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” Rex interrupted, meeting her eyes briefly before turning toward the back room.

She watched him go, her chest tightening with a mix of warmth and something deeper—something she hadn’t quite named yet. As she went back to her work, she found herself glancing toward the back room more often than necessary, her thoughts drifting.

Meanwhile, Rex look at said shelf, tightening a stubborn screw as his thoughts swirled. Fixing things was easy. Straightforward. But the way (Y/n) had looked at him last night, the way her words had stayed with him, was anything but.

***

Later that evening, Jesse and Fives caught up with Rex at the clinic, their expressions far too knowing for Rex’s liking.

“You’re spending a lot of time at that shop,” Jesse said casually, leaning against a crate.

“(Y/n)’s shop,” Fives added, smirking. “Or should we call it your shop now?”

Rex shot them a warning look. “You two need to mind your own business.”

“Business?” Jesse said innocently. “I’m just saying, it’s nice to see you smiling more. (Y/n)’s good for you.”

“She’s a friend,” Rex said firmly, though the warmth in his chest betrayed him.

Fives exchanged a look with Jesse, his grin widening. “Sure, Captain. Whatever you say.”

As the evening wore on, Rex couldn’t shake their words. But as he made his way back toward the shop, his steps slower than usual, he began to wonder if maybe they weren’t entirely wrong.

****

Through the growing closeness of their bond, Rex and (Y/n) continued to share pieces of themselves—small moments, quiet confessions, and unspoken feelings that deepened with each passing day. 

****

The snow began to fall softly, coating Idelmor in a shimmering layer of white, turning the village into the winter wonderland Rex and his brothers had first discovered a year ago. The sight stirred a strange mixture of nostalgia and peace in Rex. He hadn’t realized just how much had changed since their arrival—not just for his brothers, but for himself.

And yet, it wasn’t Rex thinking about the transformation this time. It was his brothers, huddled together in the cottage late one evening as the fire crackled softly in the hearth.

Fives leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table as his grin gleamed in the firelight. “Alright, let’s face it. Captain ‘I-Don’t-Do-Personal’ is head over heels for (Y/n), and he doesn’t even know it.”

Jesse laughed, shaking his head. “Oh, he knows it. He’s just too stubborn to admit it.”

“More like too scared,” Kix added, his tone softer but no less pointed. “He’s spent the whole year doing things for everyone else. He doesn’t know how to think about what he wants.”

“That’s where we come in,” Fives said with a gleam in his eye. “We’ve got to give him the push he needs. And lucky for us…” He stood, moving toward the shelf near the fire where the snow globe rested, its glass catching the flickering light. “We’ve got just the thing.”

Cody raised a brow from his place near the window. “You want to use the snow globe?”

“Why not?” Fives said, holding it up. “We’ve all used it. It’s only fair we use it for Rex. He’s done more for us this year than anyone. It’s time we returned the favor.”

“And what exactly do you think it’s going to show?” Wolffe asked dryly, though the corner of his mouth twitched with amusement.

“Only one way to find out,” Fives said, setting the globe down on the table and motioning for everyone to gather around.

*** 

The brothers leaned in as Fives placed his hands firmly on the snow globe. He closed his eyes, focusing on Rex—not the soldier, not the captain, but the man they all knew and admired, the one who had been quietly building a future for everyone but himself.

The vision came quickly, blooming to life within the swirling flakes of the globe. At first, it was the village square, glowing softly under the light of lanterns and garlands. Rex stood near the fountain, his expression relaxed in a way they rarely saw. (Y/n) was beside him, her hand tucked into his, her laughter filling the space between them.

The scene shifted. The two of them were in a small house on the edge of the village. A fire crackled in the hearth, and the room was warm and alive, filled with soft light and the quiet joy of family. Two children darted around the room—one with (Y/n)’s bright blue eyes, the other with Rex’s steady gaze. The house itself felt like an extension of the happiness they shared, simple but full of warmth.

The vision faded, leaving the brothers in stunned silence.

“Did you see that?” Jesse finally whispered, breaking the stillness.

“Rex wants a family,” Kix murmured, his tone filled with quiet realization.

“With (Y/n),” Fives said, his grin widening. “I knew it.”

Wrecker, who had been unusually quiet, crossed his arms and nodded firmly. “We’ve got to make it happen.”

Cody let out a sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “This is ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously brilliant,” Fives corrected. “And you’re in, Cody. Admit it.”

Cody’s silence was answer enough.

****

The next few days were a flurry of activity as the brothers threw themselves into helping decorate the village for Christmas. Strings of lanterns and garlands were hung along the rooftops, while villagers worked together to set up a towering Christmas tree in the center of the square. Jesse and Fives took charge of setting up the lights, their banter echoing through the frosty air as they climbed ladders and secured decorations.

“Think this is bright enough?” Jesse called, holding up a strand of lights that practically sparkled.

“Not until the entire galaxy can see it,” Fives shot back, earning a laugh from the gathered crowd.

Wrecker helped carry massive bundles of evergreen branches to line the walkways, his booming laugh ringing out every time a villager tried to lift something too heavy. Even Wolffe, who usually avoided anything resembling festivities, found himself roped into overseeing the placement of the ornaments on the tree.

Through it all, Rex worked quietly alongside them, his focus split between organizing supplies and watching his brothers with quiet amusement. What he didn’t notice was how often they sent meaningful glances in his direction or how deliberately they worked with (Y/n) to draw him closer to her orbit.

*** 

The night before Christmas Eve, the brothers struck. (Y/n) had agreed to stay late at the shop to help organize some of the decorations, and Fives made sure Rex was the one tasked with delivering her dinner.

“It’s just a quick drop-off,” Fives said with a grin, handing Rex a small basket of warm food. “She’s been working all day. You should check on her.”

Rex frowned, sensing something suspicious in Fives’ tone, but he didn’t argue. “Fine.”

When Rex arrived at the shop, (Y/n) greeted him with a tired but genuine smile. “Rex. What’s this?”

“Dinner,” he said simply, holding up the basket. “Fives thought you might need it.”

(Y/n) chuckled, stepping aside to let him in. The shop was dimly lit, the only illumination coming from the fire in the hearth and the glow of a few candles scattered across the counter. The warmth of the room enveloped Rex as he stepped inside, the scent of pine and cinnamon filling the air.

“I didn’t realize it was this late,” (Y/n) admitted, setting the basket on the counter. “Thank you. I could use a break.”

Rex hesitated, glancing around. “Do you need help with anything?”

(Y/n) tilted her head, studying him for a moment. “Actually, I was about to head to the square. They’ve finished decorating, and I thought I’d take a look. Want to join me?”

He paused, caught off guard by the question. “I… sure.”

*** 

The village square was aglow with light, lanterns and garlands casting a golden hue over the snow-covered ground. The Christmas tree stood tall and radiant, its ornaments sparkling in the soft light. (Y/n) and Rex walked side by side, their breaths visible in the crisp air.

(Y/n) stopped near the tree, her gaze lifting to the lights strung across the rooftops. “The lights are beautiful.”

“Yeah, they are,” Rex said softly, though his eyes weren’t on the lights. He was looking at (Y/n).

She noticed, her cheeks warming as she glanced at him. “You’re not looking at the lights.”

Rex’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Neither are you.”

They stood there for a moment, the quiet between them filled with unspoken words. (Y/n) shifted, her gloved hands curling around the edge of her coat. “Rex, can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” he said, his voice steady.

“Do you ever think about what you want?” she asked, her tone gentle but searching. “Not for your brothers, not for the village—for you.”

The question caught him off guard, his brow furrowing. “I… I don’t know. I guess I’ve spent so much time thinking about everyone else, I never really let myself consider it.”

(Y/n) nodded, her gaze dropping to the snow beneath their feet. “I think you should. Because you deserve it.”

Her words settled over him, heavy but not unwelcome. For the first time, he allowed himself to wonder—not just about the future, but about the possibility of a future with her.

“Maybe,” he said softly, meeting her eyes. “But sometimes, it’s hard to see it until someone shows you.”

(Y/n)’s breath hitched at the quiet vulnerability in his voice, and she found herself stepping closer, her fingers brushing his arm. “Then let me show you.”

Rex didn’t answer—not with words, at least. Instead, he reached for her hand, his touch tentative but steady, and for the first time, the world around them seemed to fall away.

***

From the shadows of the square, Fives, Jesse, and the others watched the scene unfold, their grins wide despite the cold.

“Finally,” Jesse muttered, shaking his head. “Took him long enough.”

“I told you this would work,” Fives said smugly, crossing his arms. “You all doubted me.”

“Don’t get cocky,” Cody muttered, though even he couldn’t hide his smile. “It’s about time he got something for himself.”

As they watched Rex and (Y/n) walk away together, their figures silhouetted against the glow of the lights, the brothers shared a quiet sense of satisfaction. For once, their captain wasn’t carrying the weight of the world—and that was a gift worth giving.

****

The village square was alive with the magic of Christmas Eve. Lanterns and garlands strung between buildings glowed softly, their light reflecting off the fresh blanket of snow that covered the ground. The towering Christmas tree in the center of the square shimmered with ornaments and strings of lights, and a gentle flurry of snowflakes swirled in the air, adding to the enchantment of the scene.

Villagers and brothers alike filled the square, their laughter and chatter blending with the melodies of a small band playing near the tree. Children darted through the crowd, clutching mugs of warm cider and marveling at the decorations. It was a celebration of joy, community, and hope, and Rex found himself quietly taking it all in from the edge of the square.

(Y/n) was somewhere in the crowd—he’d caught a glimpse of her earlier, laughing with one of the children from the school. The sight had stuck with him, warming something deep inside that he hadn’t yet put a name to.

***

Unbeknownst to Rex, his brothers—and now, Obi-Wan and Plo Koon—were watching him from a discreet distance. Fives was grinning ear to ear, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he pointed toward a carefully hung sprig of mistletoe near the fountain.

“I’m just saying,” Fives whispered, elbowing Jesse. “If they happen to end up there, it’d be… poetic.”

“Poetic?” Cody said dryly, crossing his arms. “This is the most obvious scheme you’ve ever come up with.”

“And yet,” Plo Koon said, his voice calm but amused, “it’s oddly endearing.”

Obi-Wan chuckled, his arms folded as he watched the scene unfold. “You’re lucky Rex isn’t as perceptive about his own emotions as he is about battle tactics.”

Fives waved them off, turning to Plo Koon. “You’re sure you’re good with the timing?”

The Kel Dor nodded serenely. “The Force is subtle, my friend. But in this case… perhaps a little less so.”

****

Rex spotted (Y/n) near the fountain, her arms wrapped around herself to keep warm as she admired the lights strung above. The soft glow reflected in her blue eyes, and Rex felt his feet moving before he’d even decided to approach her.

“Enjoying the view?” he asked, his voice low but warm.

(Y/n) turned, her smile lighting up her face. “I am. The boys—and the villagers—really outdid themselves.”

“They’ve been busy,” Rex agreed, though his tone carried a hint of something unspoken. His gaze lingered on her face, the way the snowflakes caught in her hair and the glow of the lights softened her features. “It’s… good to see you smiling.”

(Y/n) tilted her head, studying him for a moment. “It’s good to see you here,” she said softly. “Not just physically, but… here. With them. With us.”

Rex felt a warmth rise in his chest, but before he could reply, a light tug seemed to pull him forward. He blinked, glancing down at his boots, which had suddenly come to an unexplainable stop. Beside him, (Y/n) let out a surprised laugh.

“Did you just—?”

“No,” Rex said quickly, frowning as he tried to move his feet again. They didn’t budge. (Y/n) seemed similarly rooted to the spot.

From somewhere nearby, Fives’ voice rang out, overly casual and far too loud. “Hey, Cap! You know what they say about standing under mistletoe?”

Rex’s eyes shot up, following Fives’ pointed gesture. Sure enough, there it was—a sprig of mistletoe hanging just above their heads. He turned back to (Y/n), his brow furrowing. “Are you sure this is part of the celebrations?”

(Y/n)’s cheeks flushed a faint pink, though she laughed softly. “Positive… maybe… probably.”

Rex glanced toward the group of brothers—Fives, Jesse, Kix, and even Wolffe—who were grinning like fools. His eyes narrowed suspiciously, but before he could question their involvement, (Y/n) cleared her throat.

“It’s a legend,” she explained, her voice quick but light. “On our planet, mistletoe is supposed to bring good luck. If you stand under it with someone, you’re supposed to…” She trailed off, her cheeks warming further. “You’re supposed to kiss.”

Fives took that as his cue. “It’s tradition, Cap! You don’t want to mess with tradition.”

Jesse chimed in, his grin wide. “Yeah, Rex. It’s for good luck.”

Rex sighed, his shoulders stiffening slightly as he turned back to (Y/n). “And you’re sure this is… part of the celebrations?”

(Y/n) smiled, though there was a hint of nervousness in her eyes. “It’s… part of the legend.”

For a moment, they stood there, the snow falling softly around them as the world seemed to hold its breath. (Y/n)’s heart raced, her thoughts spinning. Rex, so steady and sure in battle, seemed almost uncertain now, his gaze searching hers for permission.

And then, slowly, he leaned closer.

Their lips met softly, tentatively, and for that moment, the noise of the square faded into nothing. The warmth of the kiss spread through Rex like the glow of the village lights, chasing away the cold and leaving only the quiet certainty that this—she—was what he had been searching for.

When they pulled apart, (Y/n) let out a soft laugh, her forehead resting briefly against his. “Well,” she said, her voice breathless but teasing, “I think we’re officially free of the mistletoe.”

Rex chuckled, his own voice low and warm. “I’m not complaining.”

****

From their hiding spot, Fives punched the air triumphantly. “That’s how it’s done.”

“I can’t believe that actually worked,” Jesse muttered, though his grin betrayed his pride.

“It’s about time,” Kix said, crossing his arms. “He’s been mooning over her for months.”

Obi-Wan and Plo Koon exchanged amused glances, the former raising a brow. “Well, I suppose the Force has many uses.”

Cody sighed, shaking his head but unable to hide the faint smirk tugging at his lips. “He’s going to kill all of you when he figures this out.”

“Worth it,” Fives said smugly. “Totally worth it.”

***

As the snow continued to fall, Rex and (Y/n) remained under the mistletoe, the glow of the village lights surrounding them. For Rex, the moment felt like something out of a dream—one he hadn’t realized he’d been waiting for. And for (Y/n), it was a moment that brought every quiet hope she’d held for the past year to life.

In the square, the lights sparkled, the music played on, and the magic of Christmas wrapped around them all.

****

The snow fell gently over Idelmor, blanketing the village in a pristine white that shimmered beneath the golden glow of lanterns and garlands. The square, once again transformed for Christmas, had never looked more radiant. Strings of lights crisscrossed the streets, evergreen wreaths adorned every door, and the towering Christmas tree at the square’s center sparkled with ornaments and ribbons that swayed gently in the winter breeze.

But tonight, the decorations weren’t the focus of attention. Tonight, it was Rex and (Y/n), standing hand in hand beneath an arch of holly and winter roses, surrounded by their brothers, villagers, and the Jedi who had also found peace on this planet. 

The crowd gathered in the square was a mix of familiar faces and new ones. Obi-Wan and Plo Koon stood near the front, their expressions warm and proud. Ahsoka was nearby, her cheeks flushed from the cold but her grin wide as she stood beside Jesse and Fives, who looked far too smug for anyone’s comfort.

****

Rex stood beneath the arch, his green and gold tunic catching the glow of the lights, though his attention was entirely on (Y/n). She walked toward him slowly, her gown flowing around her like a dream, her eyes meeting his with a steadiness that made the rest of the world fall away. 

When she reached him, they turned to face one another, their hands clasped tightly. The officiant—a cheerful villager with a deep voice and a ready smile—welcomed everyone before turning the floor over to the couple.

“Your vows,” the officiant prompted gently, stepping back.

Rex took a breath, steadying himself as he looked into (Y/n)’s eyes. “When I first came to this village, I didn’t think I’d ever find peace. I didn’t think it was something I deserved, or something I could even imagine. But then I met you.” His voice softened, his thumb brushing over her hand. “You reminded me that there’s beauty in the quiet moments. That it’s okay to hope, to dream. And standing here now, I know I’ve found my home—with you.”

(Y/n)’s lips trembled with the weight of her smile, tears glistening in her eyes. She paused, collecting herself before she spoke. “A year ago, we stood in this square, and I remember looking at these lights. I remember saying, ‘The lights are beautiful.’” She paused, her voice growing softer as her gaze held his. “But I wasn’t looking at the lights. I was looking at you.”

Rex’s chest tightened, emotion sweeping through him as the crowd around them fell utterly silent. The words hung between them, carrying the memory of their first steps toward each other. 

“And now,” (Y/n) continued, her voice steadying, “I get to stand here with you and promise that you’ll always have a home. Not just in this village, but with me. With us.”

The officiant stepped forward again, smiling broadly. “Then, by the power vested in me by the good people of Idelmor, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Rex didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward, cupping (Y/n)’s face gently as he kissed her, the crowd erupting into cheers and applause around them. The kiss was soft but sure, a promise made under the glow of the lights and the soft swirl of snow.

****

As the celebration began, with music and dancing filling the square, Rex and (Y/n) found themselves wandering away from the main crowd. The snow was still falling, dusting their hair and shoulders as they walked hand in hand toward the edge of the square.

“Do you think we can hide from them for a bit?” Rex asked with a faint smile, glancing back toward the crowd, where Fives was already attempting to lead Wrecker in some sort of coordinated dance.

(Y/n) laughed softly, squeezing his hand. “I wouldn’t count on it.”

They stopped beneath one of the lantern poles near the edge of the square, the glow from the light casting a warm halo around them. (Y/n) tilted her head back, her gaze catching on something just above their heads.

“Mistletoe,” she murmured, her cheeks flushing faintly.

Rex followed her gaze, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. “Let me guess. Fives?”

“Probably,” (Y/n) said with a laugh, though her voice softened as she looked back at him. “Are you sure this is part of the celebrations?”

“Positive,” Rex replied, his smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Maybe… probably.”

(Y/n)’s laughter was quiet but warm, and before she could say anything else, Rex leaned down, brushing his lips against hers. The kiss was slower this time, deeper, carrying with it all the love and quiet understanding that had grown between them over the past year.

***

From their hiding spot near the tree, Fives elbowed Jesse with a grin. “What did I tell you? Best. Plan. Ever.”

“I’ll give you this one,” Jesse muttered, though he couldn’t hide his grin. “But if they figure it out, you’re taking the fall.”

Obi-Wan shook his head, though his smile was genuine. “I believe they’re past the point of caring who orchestrated this.”

Plo Koon, standing beside him, inclined his head. “Indeed. The Force may have nudged them together, but it’s their bond that carried them here.”

Cody watched the couple from a distance, his expression unreadable for a moment before he shook his head with a faint smirk. “He deserves this.”

***

As Rex and (Y/n) returned to the celebration, the music swelled, the brothers raised their glasses, and the villagers cheered. The magic of Christmas wrapped around them all, a fitting continuation of a love story that had started under the same lights, in the same snow, just a year before.

For Rex, the lights truly were beautiful. But like (Y/n), he wasn’t looking at them anymore.

He was looking at his future as he craddled his hand over his wife’s growing bump.

[star-wars-writing]

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[star-wars-writing]

British Royal Family - The Prince of Wales, Prince George and Princess Charlotte with Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce at the Eras Tour in Wembley Stadium | June 21, 2024

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[star-wars-writing]

Home is a Place on Coruscant

Pairing: Captain Rex x fem!Reader

Words: 10,705

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! angst, hurt/comfort, discussion of grief/death, some description of blood/injuries, mutual pining, friends to lovers, smut, dirty talk, a little brat taming, oral sex (m and f receiving), penetration, unprotected sex, light exhibitionism but not really

Summary: You've always been there for Rex, and when he shows up at your door in the middle of the night after a devestating mission, you do what you do best: take care of him.

A/N: The start of this fic has been sitting in my notes app since the TCW season finale many moons ago, and it wasn't until I read this drabble by @djarrex that I felt compelled to actually finish it. Rex is my fav and he deserves to be taken care of.

It's been about a decade since I've published a fic and about a decade since I've been active on tumblr, so I decided to start from scratch with this blog. Feedback is very much appreciated! I have a few more drafts in the works for Echo, Howzer, Kix, Tech, and Hunter that I'm planning to publish depending on the reception to this one.

Rain on Coruscant was rare. But when it came, it came in torrents, and it came all at once.

In the early hours of morning, while the planet was still sleeping, the sky opened up and let loose a downpour that threatened to flood the lower levels. It was so heavy, it even drowned out the traffic noise coming from the speeders that were still flying over the city at the early hour. The noise was soothing, almost like a lullaby, and the sound of it woke you.

You were used to this sound. You were used to it, because you were used to not being able to sleep for more than an hour or two at a time. It was one of the many things about living in the Jewel of the Core Worlds that was taking you longer than you would have liked to adjust to.

The traffic noise, the bustle, the crowds—it all made your homeworld of Rion seem very far away. You could never hear anything over the speeder traffic here, and you likely would've gone mad long ago if not for the trickling of the fountain you kept in the main room. It had been your mother's. You were glad it had come with you when you moved.

The rain was heavy enough that you could hear it inside the apartment, a pleasant hum against the transparisteel. You sat in the window seat, arms folded around your knees, watching the rain fall. The view from your window was not the best in the Galactic City, but it was still quite good, and at night it was beautiful, all the lights of the skyscrapers blurring together in the rain.

The rain would be good for the plants.

You had a garden, a modest one. Some of the plants were native to your world. A few were native to Coruscant. Most were from other worlds. They were your pride and joy. Caring for them had given you something to do when you were adjusting to your new life here. You watered and pruned and tended to them all, and in the spring you were rewarded for your efforts.

Rex had been baffled, at first, by the sight of you out in the courtyard behind the complex, on your knees in the dirt, digging and weeding. It was a little piece of nature on a planet that didn't have much, and Rex was amazed that someone could take so much joy in something so… natural. It was nothing like what he'd been raised to appreciate, which was a good vantage point, a well-maintained blaster, and a plan.

When he'd told you as much, you had invited him to kneel down beside you, and, hesitantly, he'd done so. You handed him a spade and pointed to a patch of soil.

"See that little green leaf poking up?" you asked, and Rex followed your gaze. "See it?"

"I see it."

"Plant the spade right under it. When you pull it up, the root will come with it."

"Like this?" Rex had pulled the spade up, and a plant had come with it. He examined it, then tossed it aside, into the compost.

"That's perfect. That's just how you're supposed to do it. See, you're a natural."

Rex smiled, pleased with the praise. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Now, let's get the rest of these weeds."

You'd worked in the garden until the sun was setting. Your hands had been dirty, and you had been smiling, and Rex had thought you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

He would probably never tell you as much. He'd been trying to think of ways to tell you, and nothing seemed good enough. There was nothing good enough for you. So instead he told you about the missions he went on. And you listened. You always listened.

You wondered if Rex had heard the rain start. You wondered if it was keeping him awake, too. You wanted him to sleep. He was always so tired, and the last thing you wanted was for him to be exhausted when he came home from his mission.

If he came home.

It was an irrational thought. The missions were dangerous, yes, but the 501st had some of the best soldiers in the galaxy. And Rex was a good captain. A good leader.

But there was always the possibility. The risk.

You were intimately acquainted with the feeling of waiting for someone, and the way it tore you apart. It was a risk, being this close to Rex and the other clones of the 501st. It was a risk, feeling the way you did.

It was a risk, but you did anyway.

You look out at the rain, and the speeders that still flew through it. You wonder how they could fly through the storm, and not be afraid.

You're just about to turn away from the window when a noise behind you makes you jump. There, underneath the sound of the rain battering against the transparisteel, the sound of a knock at your door. You almost don’t think it is real, that it's simply a part of the soundscape of the rainy morning, but it comes again, three short raps.

You slide out of bed, fumbling to grab the clothes you tossed on the floor the night before. You don't bother to put on pants, but pull a long shirt over your head and tiptoe to the door, peering through the peephole.

The rain is heavier now, and the clouds are dark, almost black. The white shape in the hall is familiar, though, and it makes your heart race. You open the door, filling the small entryway with the scent of fresh rainwater and humidity.

"Rex," you say. "What are you doing here?”

He’s stoic, still and silent under your gaze, but you can see the tremble in his hands at his sides. The downpour seems to have washed the majority of dirt and debris from his armor, but bits of red still run through the cracks. An hour ago, he was likely covered with whatever the substance was — Umbaran dust or something more sinister — but the rain did well enough to wash it off.

He must’ve walked here, you realize, eyes widening. Your bottom lip pulls to worry between your teeth as you notice the new dents and marks on him. Carbon scoring on his shoulder plate, a tear in his kama, and what seems to be a blaster hole in his chest plate.

"I… I don’t know," he says after a moment. His voice is quiet, rough through the modulation of his helmet. It's as if the words are being dragged up from his lungs.

"I shouldn’t have. I… I should have called. I just… I had to see you.”

The words hang between you, suspended like the raindrops in the air. You feel tears prickle at the corner of your eyes. You can't believe he's here. He's here, and he's alive. You'd known he would be, but to see him with your own eyes, to have him in front of you, fills you with an immense sense of relief.

But something is clearly wrong. He's not saying what's bothering him, and you're almost too afraid to ask.

“Rex, what happened?”

You reach for him, only to have your hand meet nothing but humid air as he pulls back.

“It’s late, sorry for disturbing you—“

He turns to go, and this time you’re faster. Your hand encloses around his wrist and pulls him to a stop before he can take another step.

“Wait, Rex— please, just… stay. Just for a moment. Come in, you're getting soaked."

He lets out a slow breath and then, after a moment, he jerks a stiff nod. He allows you to drag him inside your apartment and, as the door slides shut behind him, he lifts his hands to the seal of his helmet. You watch him closely as he pulls it free and reveals the face beneath.

There are smudges of grime on his golden skin, and a deep furrow has formed between his eyebrows. He looks haunted, as if the shadows from the battlefield have followed him home. You want to smooth that line out with your thumb, but you aren’t sure he will let you.

You don't ask if you can touch him, but he notices the way your fingers twitch, and he knows you well enough to know that you're thinking about it.

"It's fine," he murmurs. He's never said no to you. "Go ahead."

He doesn't say please, and that hurts a little, but you're not surprised. Rex has been holding you at arm's length ever since he kissed you a few months back, and you know why. You just wish you knew how to help him.

So, you touch him. You brush your fingers across his cheek, wiping away the grime. You know that he doesn't need to be cleaned, but the motions are soothing. Your gentle touch is a balm, and you can feel his tension ease ever so slightly as you brush your fingers over his face.

"What happened?" you ask again, voice barely above a whisper.

"A lot." He lets out a slow breath and leans a little into your touch. He's exhausted, and he's relieved to see you, and the two warring emotions are pulling him in different directions. Rex opens his mouth to say more, but the words die on his tongue. He shakes his head, unable to continue, and closes his eyes.

"Come sit down."

You take him by the hand and lead him over to the couch. You sit first, and he follows suit, sitting a respectable distance from you. The distance doesn't seem right. When you'd met him, Rex had been so full of confidence, even when he'd been a little bit awkward, a little bit unsure. But the war had changed him. He was still the same man, still confident and brave and intelligent, but the weight of responsibility had settled on his shoulders, and the burden was crushing him.

You want to tell him it's going to be okay. You want to say it, but the words sound hollow in your mind.

You shift, moving closer, and Rex moves, too. The distance between you shrinks, and the tension eases. You don’t much care that he’s wearing armor, or that the rainwater is leaving damp spots on the upholstery.

Rex reaches for you, and his hands tremble. His gloves are damp, and his armor is cold, and the chill sends a shiver up your spine when he touches your knee. His eyes are distant, and he doesn't quite meet yours, and his expression is so, so sad.

“Hardcase is gone,” he closes his eyes to avoid seeing the look on your face. You can’t help but gasp at the admission, and a soft sob slips past your lips.

You had met Hardcase once, very briefly. He had been charming and charismatic and kind, if a little wild, and you had liked him immediately. He had flirted with you, and Rex had rolled his eyes and tried to hide a smile behind his cup. Hardcase had been fun, and loud, and a little bit reckless.

You had not known him as well as some of the others on his squad, but the pain in Rex's eyes, the grief in his voice, was enough to make it hurt.

"Oh, Rex, I'm so sorry," you murmur.

Rex nods, and his jaw tightens. You can tell that he's trying not to cry, and you can't imagine how hard it must be, to carry such a heavy weight all by himself.

When he speaks again, your blood runs cold.

“We were betrayed. One of our own— one of the Jedi, he—" his breath hitches. “Oz, Ringo — Dozens of them, my brothers. They’re all gone.

"Betrayed?"

You feel like the bottom has dropped out from beneath you.

You knew the war was dangerous, and that Rex's job was dangerous, but the idea that it could go wrong in such a fundamental way?

The Jedi had always seemed so wise, and so strong, and so just. It had always seemed like there was nothing they couldn't do. To know that one of them could betray their men — could betray the Republic, and the innocent people of the galaxy — was too terrible to contemplate.

Your hand finds his cheek again, and this time, his eyes find yours.

They're shining, but his tears don't fall. He's a soldier, and he knows better than to show weakness, even here. You wish he would let himself break. You wish he would let you hold him, and let his tears fall, and let you help him put the pieces back together.

"Rex," you murmur, "I'm so, so sorry."

He leans into your touch, closing his eyes, and your thumb wipes away some of the wetness that has gathered there.

He pulls back for a moment, and you think he’s pulling away completely before he leans closer. His arms slide around your waist, pulling you tight to him as he buries his head in your shoulder. You immediately return the embrace, one arm over his shoulders while your other hand lifts to hold the back of his head.

You’re not sure how long they stay like that or how many tears are shed between you. After some time, he begins to speak, and you listen while running a soothing hand over his head, trying desperately to keep from sobbing outright as he tells you about the traitorous Jedi Pong Krell.

It’s by far the greatest atrocity you’ve ever heard, and to know that Rex has to put his helmet back on and get back to work in a matter of days makes you sick to your stomach.

He doesn’t deserve this, you think as you pull him into another embrace. None of them do.

Something about the motion causes him to wince, and you immediately release him to grab hold of both his shoulders.

“Are you hurt?” You ask, eyebrows knitting together in concern.

His hesitation is answer enough, and you can feel a wave of anger rise in your chest. How could they let him come back, in the state that he's in? How could they ask this of him, after all he's already done?

“I’m fine, cyare. Armor took most of it.”

If it weren’t for the way he avoided your gaze, you’d believe him, but instead you just feel yourself grow more upset. “What did Kix say?”

“Uh, he didn’t—“

“Rex, you were shot, and you didn’t think to get medical attention?”

His expression darkens, and you can see him withdrawing again. His shoulders pull back, and he pulls his chin up, and the distance between you grows again.

“I didn’t think much of anything, to be honest.” He mutters. It breaks your heart, but it also throws more coals on the anger burning inside of you. Not anger at him, you know, even though you can’t help but let out a sigh of exasperation. “I’ll be alright.”

“Like hell you will be,” you bite out before taking a step back to help him stand. “C’mon. Let’s get you patched up.”

You're angry. You're so, so angry. How could he let himself get hurt? How could he come here and not tell you about it? How could they send him home, to you, after all he's been through, knowing that he was injured?

But there's nothing you can do about any of that now, and being angry at him isn't going to help.

“You don’t have to—“ He protests through words only, allowing you to drag him through the living room and into the refresher.

“Yes, I do.” You shut him down quickly as you flick the light on and turn to rummage underneath your sink.

He’s still standing in the center of the room when you stand back up to full height, looking uncomfortable at your fussing. It’s not the first time you’ve had to patch him up, but so far it’s just been cuts and bruises. It’s unknown territory for you both, and he holds himself like he’s waiting for you to give up and shoo him out.

Your hands find his shoulders, and you gently push him down to sit at the edge of your bathtub. He’s pliant in your hold, but he meets your eyes with the worried pinch between his brows he gets whenever he thinks he’s upset you.

“Rex, let me take care of you,” you plead softly, and the furrow deepens.

He can hear the way your voice breaks. He can see the worry in your eyes. You're scared, and he hates that he's done that to you.

He should have known better. He should have taken a moment, to collect himself, before coming to see you. He shouldn't have let his emotions overwhelm him. He should have kept it together.

You were always there for him, and you listened, and he could tell you anything. He should have told you that he was okay. That would have been the responsible thing to do.

But he didn't. He couldn't.

And now, he can't seem to do the one thing you ask him.

But, after a moment, Rex relaxes. He’s never been able to say no to you before, and it is no different now. His shoulders slump a little, and the furrow smoothes, and you can't help but think that his face looks much nicer like this. You wish he wouldn't be so hard on himself.

"Okay," he murmurs.

It's all the encouragement you need. You lift his hand, cradling it gently, and begin to remove his gloves and armor piece by piece. You set the pieces aside, careful to keep them in order, and you know he appreciates that. It's a little thing, but it helps. You make a note to clean it for him before he leaves, the sight of the red smeared across its surface churning your stomach.

It's quiet between the two of you. The only sounds in the room are the rain and the gentle clink of plastoid against the floor as the last piece is removed.

You're grateful for the silence, though. You're not sure what you would say, and you know that he needs this, needs the moment to breathe.

"Where does it hurt?" You ask.

He hesitates. There's a lot of pain, all over his body. But you can't do anything about the pain that aches in his bones, or the ache in his chest. He doesn't know how to tell you about that.

"Chest," he finally admits. "Took a hit in the vest. Knocked the wind outta me."

That was an understatement, but you didn't need to know that. He could barely breathe, when it had happened, but the rest of his brothers needed him, and he didn't have the time to worry about his own injuries.

"Can you get it off?" You ask.

He gives a slight nod and reaches his arm up to grab the neck of his blacks, slowly pulling it overhead to reveal the skin underneath. Your eyes widen slightly at the sight of him, and you feel a flush rising up your neck and onto your cheeks.

The only light in the room is the faint glow from the bulb above the mirror. It casts shadows across the planes of his muscles, and you can't help but drink in the sight of him. His chest is strong and broad, and a line of hair disappears beneath the waistband of his blacks.

There's a blaster mark on his sternum, just above his right pec, not far off from the scar in the center of his chest he’d earned on Salucemi. It’s weeping blood slowly, trickling down the curve of his muscle, and you can see the red, puffy skin surrounding the injury.

It isn't terrible. A few inches to the left, and it could have been fatal. A few inches to the right, and the armor could have deflected the bolt entirely.

Still, you know that he's in pain, and the knowledge is enough to make the tears prickle at the corners of your eyes again. You force yourself to swallow them back and, instead, you reach for a damp cloth to wipe the wound clean.

He hisses at the contact, and you can see him grit his teeth against the pain. His hand moves to grasp the edge of the tub, and you can't help but feel guilty. You want to tell him to relax, to try and ease his suffering, but you know he wouldn't listen. He never listens, not when it comes to his own wellbeing.

"Sorry," you murmur, but the cloth keeps moving. You have to clean the wound, so you can treat it properly.

“Where’d you learn this, anyways?"

"What, first aid?" You're surprised by the question.

"Mhm."

“My dad was a swoop racer, believe it or not,” you say softly. You don't talk about him very often. It still hurts. But this feels like the right moment.

Rex tilts his head curiously, watching your face. You can see his expression soften, and you know he can tell how difficult it is for you to speak about this.

"Really?"

You nod, your eyes focused on your work. “My mom was always patching him up, and I’d sit on the counter and help out where I could. When she passed, I took over.”

“Isn’t swoop racing illegal?”

“Hm, not on Rion, it’s not.” You finish cleaning the wound and move to grab the bacta bandages. “Maybe if it was, he wouldn't have gotten himself killed."

You're not sure what possessed you to be so blunt, but the words are out, and there's no taking them back. Rex blinks, shocked by your honesty. You feel embarrassment creeping up the back of your neck.

"Sorry," you murmur, keeping your eyes low. "That was… I shouldn't have said that."

Rex says nothing. He knows better than to try and coddle you, and besides, you've always been the one doing the comforting, not the other way around. But it doesn’t sit well with him to see you like this, and before he knows what he’s doing, he reaches out to you.

His hand lifts, and he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You can't help but lean into his touch. He's so warm, and his hand is calloused and gentle. He cups the back of your head, guiding you forward, and his lips press against your forehead.

You can feel the tears welling up in your eyes as the cloth slips from your fingers, and you cling to him. You feel terrible, for complaining about the loss of your father when Rex has lost so much.

"I’m sorry," he murmurs, and you're not sure if he means for asking or for Hardcase or for the war or for everything, and you can't bring yourself to ask.

“It’s alright,” you whisper back. He lets you pull away from him to busy yourself with sorting bacta patches, but you can feel his eyes on you.

"Is that why you came to Coruscant?” He asks softly, his tone careful and gentle.

Part of you wants to lie. You're tired, and you're hurting, and you're not sure you have the strength to have this conversation right now.

But the truth is already out, and if this will help him, you'll tell him anything.

You nod.

“He was actually really good at it,” you chuckle, and Rex can hear the bitterness in your voice. “But eventually he pissed off some powerful people who were placing the wrong bets. One day he left for a big race, and the next morning I found a box with his helmet at our doorstep. Or what was left of it.”

Rex sucks in a breath, and you can see his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. He knew about the helmet, he’s seen it on the shelf in your living room. But he hadn't known the full story.

You look back up at him. There are tears in your eyes, but they don't fall. You're smiling, and your eyes are sad, and his heart breaks.

“I tried to get the police involved, the racing league, anyone I could get to listen to me, but no one would investigate. I was so angry. Then I started getting threats. I couldn’t…” You shake your head, trying to rid the memories. "I couldn’t stay. So I moved here. And then the war started, and then I met you.”

It seems like a lifetime ago. The days before Rex felt like someone else's life, and you wonder how you ever managed without him. You'd been so lost, and so alone, and you'd felt like the universe was crashing down on you, and he'd pulled you out from underneath the rubble just by being there.

"I'm so sorry, cyar'ika," Rex murmurs.

You reach forward and gently lay a hand on his chest, pressing the bacta patch into place. His skin is soft beneath your touch, and you can't help but think, not for the first time, about how beautiful he is.

"I'm glad that you're here," you tell him softly. "That you made it back, I mean. I'm glad you came home."

Home. Rex swallows thickly.

He's never had a home before, not really. Home had been a word for people with families and futures. Home had been a word for normal, everyday people, not clones.

Home had always seemed like such a far away concept, something he'd never get to experience.

But, suddenly, the idea isn't quite so foreign. Home. With you.

"I'm glad I came back too," he finally murmurs, and his hand lifts to hold yours.

You're quiet, your eyes tracing the lines of his face, and his gaze finds yours.

There's something different between the two of you, something charged and heavy. You know you need to pull away. He needs to rest. You're both exhausted.

But you can't. You can't stop looking at him. He's beautiful, and he's kind, and he's the bravest person you've ever known. You've never loved anyone the way that you love him.

"Cyare," he whispers, and the word makes your heart stutter, even if you don’t know what it means.

He's not sure what comes over him. Maybe it's the way you're looking at him. Maybe it's the fact that, after the past couple of weeks, he thought he'd never see you again. Maybe it's that, for once, you're letting him take care of you. Maybe it's because you're so beautiful and you're so close and he loves you, he's so in love with you, and he doesn't know how much longer he can stand to go without saying something.

Whatever it is, he knows he needs to say something, and he knows he needs to do it now.

"I'm so glad I met you," he whispers, and it's the best he can do, but he hopes it's enough.

He reaches forward, and his hand finds the curve of your cheek, and the touch is enough to send a spark through your skin. You can feel the heat building inside of you, the desire pooling in your core, and the air in the room is electric.

"Me too," you manage.

His lips find yours.

You gasp against his mouth, and your arms wrap around his shoulders, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. You're pulling each other closer, as close as you can possibly get, and it's not close enough.

Rex moans softly against your lips, and you can't help the way your hips twitch, or the way you whimper into his mouth. You're both desperate, and eager, and it's the sweetest relief.

He stands and turns, lifting you up and sitting you on the edge of the counter, and his body presses against yours. Your legs part, welcoming him, and his hips slot perfectly between them. His hands are on your thighs, gripping and pulling and massaging the flesh.

"Rex," you gasp, breaking away from his lips.

He takes the opportunity to press his lips against your throat, his tongue and teeth working the delicate skin. He sucks at your pulse point, and you whine. You know that there will be marks in the morning, but you can't bring yourself to care.

"Rex," you whine again, and you're not sure why, not exactly, because all you want is for him to keep doing what he's doing, to let him claim you and mark you and make you his. But you're overwhelmed, and you need to catch your breath, and his name is the only word your brain can think.

His fingers tighten, and his lips lift from your skin. He’s watching you with dark eyes and swollen lips, chest heaving.

"I need…" he trails off, and he doesn't finish the sentence, but you understand.

He's holding himself back. He doesn't want to push you, doesn't want to assume, but you can feel the need rolling off of him.

He's desperate.

You are too.

“Let me take care of you,” you whisper.

Rex sucks in a breath. There are a lot of things that he could say, but the only thing he can manage is your name, soft and needy, and you can hear the way his voice breaks.

The sound makes you ache.

Your hand finds his jaw, and your thumb runs along his bottom lip. He's looking at you with the most adoring eyes, and your heart feels like it's about to burst.

"Please," he breathes.

It's all the encouragement you need. Your lips find his, and his hands find your hips. He lifts you off of the counter and into his arms, and your legs wrap tightly around his waist. His fingers dig into the backs of your thighs, grabbing and holding and massaging the flesh. You're not sure how the two of you make it into the bedroom. All you can think about is Rex's lips, his teeth and tongue and hands, and the way he's carrying you like you weigh nothing, his hardness digging into your hip.

It's a miracle he doesn’t trip over the pile of dirty laundry on the floor.

His knees hit the mattress, and he leans down to lay you gently on the bed, his eyes never leaving yours. There's a tenderness to his actions, a sweetness in the way he handles you, that makes you shiver. His thumbs trace the lines of your hipbones underneath your shirt, and he smiles at the sound of your breath catching in your throat.

"Are you sure?" He whispers, and the words are enough to make you ache.

His hands are so gentle, his face so earnest. He's always been so careful with you, and it makes you feel like the most important thing in the world.

"Yeah," you whisper, your hand coming up to rest against the side of his face.

Rex's smile is so beautiful, and it's so full of joy, and you can't help but return it. He turns his head and presses a kiss into the center of your palm.

His lips move, tracing the lines on your palm. His teeth nip gently at the tips of your fingers, and he watches as your breath catches.

He wants to take his time, to learn every inch of you, to map out the places that make you moan and the ones that make you scream, and the ones that make you laugh. He wants to kiss the scars and worship the stretchmarks and the freckles, and the dimples in your skin, and the wrinkles in the corners of your eyes, and the birthmark on your shoulder, and he wants to show you how beautiful you are, how perfect, how special, how loved.

He'll do it, eventually. But not tonight.

Tonight, he just needs you.

His fingers dip underneath the hem of your shirt, drawing it up slowly, and he can't help the groan that falls from his lips at the sight of you. You're suddenly, painfully aware of the fact that you'd never put on pants when you answered the door, let alone a bra, and you're almost embarrassed.

But the way Rex is looking at you after your shirt is tossed aside makes your stomach flutter, and the words die on your tongue.

"Mesh'la," he breathes, his eyes wide.

He can't seem to decide where to look, where to touch first, so you grab his hands and guide them. They slide across the planes of your stomach and over your ribs, and his fingers ghost the underside of your breasts, and your head falls back onto the pillows.

"Rex," you beg. "Please."

The sound of your plea is enough to spur him into action. His lips find the side of your neck, and his hand cups your breast, thumb finding your nipple and swiping over it.

You gasp, your back arching and hips bucking into his, and Rex moans softly. His teeth graze the line of your pulse, and he moves lower, and he pulls a nipple into his mouth.

"Fuck," you whimper, your nails scratching at the back of his neck.

You can feel the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He likes having this effect on you.

The hand on your other breast is kneading the flesh, and his lips are sucking at your nipple, his tongue tracing patterns on the delicate skin. His fingers pinch and pull, and you can feel the heat building between your legs.

"So sensitive," he hums, and the vibrations from his words send a tingle down your spine.

"Only for you," you breathe.

The words make his hips stutter, and the hardness of his cock presses into the wetness of your core. You can feel the outline of him against you, the heat and the thickness, and your breath catches.

You roll your hips into his, and Rex releases a groan, his teeth sinking into the soft skin of your breast.

"Kriff," he hisses, and the sound sends a shock of pleasure through you. Suddenly, you remember your promise.

"Lay back," you whisper, and his head lifts.

"What?"

You push at his shoulders, mindful of his bandages as you urge him backwards, and Rex follows your command. You move quickly, kneeling between his legs and grabbing the waistband of his blacks. You can see the outline of his hardness straining against the fabric, and you can't help but lick your lips.

"Can I?"

Rex's chest is heaving, his eyes blown black, and you can tell he's trying to process your question.

"Cyar'ika," he breathes, and the endearment makes your heart flutter. "You don't have to."

"I know," you tell him, your hand moving slowly up and down his thigh. Your head tilts thoughtfully. "Can I be honest?"

"Always," he replies.

"I've wanted to for a while."

You can feel the blush creeping up the back of your neck, and your eyes dart away from his. You don't know why, it's not like you've been hiding your attraction, but something about telling him is making you nervous.

"You have?"

His voice is soft, and his hand finds the back of your head. His touch is so gentle, and the surprise and happiness in his tone makes you bold.

"Yeah," you murmur, looking back up at him.

He looks stunned, but there's a light in his eyes, a warmth that you can feel spreading inside you too. "Why didn't you say anything?"

You shrug. "I didn't want to push."

It's his turn to blush. It's cute, the way his cheeks flush, and his eyes dart away. He almost looks embarrassed.

"Since we're being honest…" He starts.

"What?"

"Me too."

Your heart stutters, and a wide grin stretches across your face. The happiness building inside your chest is competing with the desire that courses through you at the knowledge that he's thought about this, about you, and the idea is almost too much. You're sure you must look like a fool smiling this much, but you can't bring yourself to care.

"You've thought about it?" You tease.

"Yeah," he breathes. "All the time."

"Tell me."

He groans, his fingers tangling in your hair, and you can see the way his cock twitches at your words. "I… Kriff, I've imagined it so many times. How good you'd look on your knees, with my cock in your mouth, or bent over, with my hands on your hips, or straddling me, riding me."

"What else?"

You've moved closer to him, and his fingers tighten in your hair, and you can feel the wetness between your thighs. You've never felt so desperate, so needy, and all you want is him, any part of him.

"I think about it all the time. What it would be like to have you in the barracks, in the 'fresher, in the hangar. You on your knees in my office. Fuck, everywhere. It's all I can think about sometimes."

You can feel the wetness growing between your thighs, and you can't stop the whine that falls from your lips. It's almost too much, hearing the things he's imagined, the ways he's wanted you, the times and places, and the need and desperation behind his words.

"Then will you let me?" You ask, and you hope the answer is yes, because you can't imagine stopping.

"Please," he breathes.

"What was that?"

Rex's grip on your hair tightens, his gaze locked on yours as he speaks again, his voice is low.

"Please, cyare."

That's all the encouragement you need. Your eyes don't leave his as your hands pull at the fabric, slowly revealing his length. He's bigger than you dared to imagine, and thicker, and the sight of him is enough to make your mouth water.

His eyes are wide, his pupils blown, and his mouth is hanging open slightly. The blush on his cheeks is spreading down his chest, and the muscles in his arms are tensed.

"So perfect," you hum, and you're not sure if you're talking to him or his cock.

You wrap your hand around him, and Rex's hips stutter. Your thumb swipes over the head, spreading the bead of precum, and his eyes fall shut.

"So sensitive," you tease.

"Cyare," he warns. There's an edge to his voice, and it makes you grin.

Your head dips down, and you press a kiss to the underside of his cock, and his hips jerk. You keep pressing kisses along his length, your fingers wrapping around the base. Rex is struggling to breathe. He's not even inside of you yet, and it already feels better than anything he's ever experienced before.

He opens his eyes to look down at you, and the sight of you on your knees in front of him is almost too much. He's dreamed about this moment, and fantasized, and he never, not in his wildest dreams, imagined that it would feel like this.

Your lips wrap around him, and Rex can't stop the way his hips thrust up. His cock brushes the back of your throat, and you gag, pulling back slightly with tears in your eyes.

"Sorry," he gasps, his cheeks flushing.

You shake your head as much as you can with his length in your mouth, and your eyes flash up to his.

You like this, he realizes with a start. You like being used, you like the feeling of him fucking into you, and the realization sends a shock of pleasure through him.

You bob your head slowly, and Rex watches, transfixed, as his cock disappears between your lips. Your tongue runs along the underside, and his eyes fall shut again.

"Maker," he moans.

Your hand is stroking what doesn't fit into your mouth, and your other is tracing the lines of his thighs, and his abs, and his V-lines. You can feel the muscles tensing and relaxing under your fingertips, and you can see the way his hips are straining, the effort he's making to keep still.

Your name falls from his lips like a prayer, and you hum softly in response. His fingers tighten in your hair, pulling gently, and his other hand comes to rest on the back of your head.

"Fuck, mesh'la," he moans, and the praise makes you preen.

You pull back, until only the head is between your lips, and swirl your tongue around him. He tastes sweet and salty and just the right amount of bitter, and you can't get enough.

"So good," he gasps. "So perfect, so beautiful."

He's babbling now, the words falling from his lips without him thinking about them, and you can't stop the grin. You'd always wondered if he was a talker.

"So perfect, cyar'ika, taking me so well." His voice is wrecked, and his breath is coming in ragged pants. "Feel so good. I could fuck your mouth all night."

His words make you shiver. He could. He could do anything he wanted with you, and you'd let him.

You move your head down, taking him as far as you can, and Rex's eyes open to watch you. You hold his gaze as his cock slides along the back of your tongue and hits the back of your throat, and you suppress the urge to gag.

"So pretty," he hums, his voice strained. "Such a good girl."

Your pussy throbs at the words, and the moan you release vibrates his length.

"That's it," he gasps.

You can feel the tears pooling at the corners of your eyes, but you keep moving, keep taking him, and his grip on your hair tightens.

"So good, mesh'la, so, so good."

He's repeating the words, and you're not sure if he knows he's saying them. Your jaw is starting to ache, your lips are sore, and there's drool dripping down your chin, but you can't stop the soft whimpers and moans.

The sounds are enough to drive him mad.

His hand moves to cup your cheek, and his thumb runs along your bottom lip, stretched around him. The gesture is so tender and loving, it's almost too much.

"Look at you," he breathes. "Kriff, I've wanted this for so long. So beautiful. So perfect. My perfect girl. You take me so well."

You hum again, and his head falls back, the movement pushing his cock deeper. You gag around him, and his hips stutter, a litany of Mando'a spilling from his lips. You're not sure what he's saying, but the words are making your cunt clench, the pleasure building inside of you overwhelming.

"I'm close, mesh'la," he gasps. "If you want to stop, you'd better— ah, kriff!"

You've pulled back, and the suction of your lips is incredible. Rex's hips are stuttering, his hands are tugging on your hair, and the sounds falling from his lips are enough to make your core throb.

"Mesh'la, please, I can't—"

His words die in his throat as you reach between his legs and roll his balls in your hand. The action sends him hurtling over the edge, and his hips thrust up one last time, pushing his cock down your throat as he comes.

Your throat works to swallow every drop. It's so much, more than you were expecting, and you struggle not to choke. His grip on your hair is borderline painful, but you don't mind. You can feel his whole body trembling, his breathing labored and his chest heaving.

You release him with a wet pop, and he shudders. You press one last kiss to the underside of his softening length, and he twitches, his body still sensitive.

"You're gonna kill me" he breathes.

"Hopefully not." You wipe your mouth, thumb catching a stray drop of cum and sucking it into your mouth, and you watch as his eyes darken.

He pulls you to him, and you climb back into his lap, his lips on yours. The kiss is slow and lazy, his hands running up and down your back, his body still shuddering from the force of his orgasm.

"Mesh'la," he sighs against your lips, his breath hot and heavy. "So beautiful."

His fingers trail down the side of your neck and between your breasts. They ghost the skin of your stomach and dip underneath the hem of your panties, and you can't help the whimper that escapes.

"Still want me?" You ask.

"Always."

His lips are on your neck, and his fingers find the wetness between your thighs, and you gasp. The noise that falls from his lips is filthy.

"Fuck, cyar'ika," he groans. "You're soaked."

"That's your fault," you manage.

His teeth graze your pulse, and his fingers brush against your clit, making your hips buck.

"Can't help it," you gasp.

You can't stop the cry of pleasure as his thumb presses down. His touch is gentle, almost hesitant, and you're not sure why. You've made it perfectly clear that you want this.

"Rex," you whimper. "Please."

He presses another kiss to your lips, and the hand not between your thighs wraps around your back, holding you steady. He teases your entrance, and your breath catches, and then his fingers are slipping inside.

"Ah, fuck," you hiss.

You're so wet, so slick, and his fingers slide in easily. Just two fingers already feel so thick, and you can feel your walls stretching around him. There's a dull ache, but it feels so good.

"Cyar'ika," he groans. "Fuck, so tight."

His fingers pump in and out slowly, and your head falls onto his shoulder.

"Faster," you gasp. "Please, Rex."

"Shh," he coos. "Patience, mesh'la."

"Please."

"Be a good girl and be patient for me."

You whine, the sound muffled by his shoulder. He's being cruel, teasing you like this. You've already had him once, and now he's drawing it out. "Rex, I need you."

He hums softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. His fingers are still pumping in and out, slowly, agonizingly, and you know he's doing it on purpose.

"I need you," you whimper.

"I'm here," he whispers.

"No, I— ah! I need you inside me."

You can feel his breath catch, and his fingers stutter, and then his lips are at your ear.

"How do you want me, mesh'la?"

"Like this," you breathe. "I want to ride you."

His breath hisses through his teeth, and his fingers speed up. The change in pace is enough to make your head spin, and the noises coming from your mouth are embarrassing. You sound desperate, and you are.

"Fuck, Rex."

"So good," he hums. "Such a good girl."

A third finger slides in beside the other two, and the stretch makes your back arch. You're not sure when he had the chance to slick his fingers with your wetness, but he must have. He's not hurting you, and the feeling is incredible.

"Rex, I'm gonna—"

"Not yet," he cuts you off.

"Please, I need to—"

"You'll wait," he growls, and the command is enough to make your toes curl.

"Please," you beg. "I'll be good, I promise, just—oh!"

Your plea is cut off by a sharp cry of pleasure, and your walls flutter around his fingers, your hips rocking back and forth.

"I said not yet."

"I'm sorry," you gasp, and the words come out strangled. "I couldn't help it, you feel so good."

He hums, his thumb finding your clit, and the stimulation is almost too much. His lips find yours, and his free hand holds you steady as his fingers move inside of you.

You writhe on top of him, your legs shaking, and you can feel the pleasure building in the pit of your stomach, and it's all too much.

"Please," you beg, and you're not even sure what you're asking for.

"What do you need?"

"Please," you gasp.

"Use your words, cyar'ika. What do you need?"

"I need— ah! I need you. I need more. Please."

He's torturing you, you realize. He's doing it on purpose, making you beg, punishing you for how you teased him earlier, and the thought of it makes your cunt throb.

"You've been so good for me, mesh'la. You think you've earned it?"

"Yes," you hiss. "I'll be good. Please, Rex, I'll be a good girl."

He can't say no, not when you're looking at him like that. Not when your lips are parted and your cheeks are flushed, and the look in your eyes is so desperate.

"Okay," he concedes.

You let out a sound of relief, and his fingers are slipping out of you. He brings his fingers to his lips and sucks them into his mouth, and the action is enough to make you groan. You rise off of him, legs trembling, and hurriedly push your panties down and toss them aside.

He looks up at you, and there's awe in his eyes, a reverence, as his hands settle on your hips to guide you back to him. Your hand wraps around his cock, lining him up, and the two of you gasp as his head breaches your entrance.

"Take your time," he whispers. “You don’t have to—fuck!”

You sink down, taking him fully in one smooth motion, and Rex can't stop the low, guttural moan that escapes.

"You said to take my time," you say, and there's a cheeky lilt to your voice. He opens his mouth to argue, but the words die in his throat. "So I took my time."

You can't stop the grin. The look on his face is almost too much. His cheeks are flushed, and his chest is heaving. His lips are swollen from the kisses, his eyes wide and his pupils blown. He looks good like this, you think, and you've never seen him so undone.

"Cyar'ika," he finally manages.

You hum, circling your hips, and his grip on you tightens. Your pace is slow, savoring this feeling unlike anything you've ever experienced. He's bigger than anything you've ever had inside of you before, filling you in ways you didn't even know were possible. You're still adjusting to him, and your movements are slow, but they're steady, and you can't help the soft whimpers and gasps.

Rex is struggling to breathe. Your heat is so warm and so wet, your walls are clenching around him, and the sight of you is almost too much. The way your head is tipped back, your eyes closed and your mouth open, the sounds you’re making, and the way his cock is disappearing inside of you over and over again, it's all so much. He can't believe this is happening.

He leans forward to press a kiss to your throat, his teeth grazing your pulse. You gasp before pushing on his shoulders, and his back hits the mattress. You lean over him, your hands reaching to grasp the headboard, and the new angle makes the both of you exhale. It also makes your breasts hang tantalizingly in his face.

Rex is not one to waste an opportunity.

He leans up and closes his lips around one of your nipples, and the sensation is enough to make your hips buck. Your pace speeds up, and his hands grip your hips tightly, helping to guide you.

"Oh, kriff," you gasp.

He releases your nipple with a pop and moves his attention to the other, and the sound you make is almost enough to make him come right then. He can’t help but shift his hips, moving them up and down in time with your thrusts, and you pull away from him to give him a look of warning.

"Stay still," you order.

"Or what?"

You raise an eyebrow, and Rex shivers. You're not sure what makes him react like that, but it sends a rush of heat straight to your core.

"I'll stop."

His jaw drops, and his eyes widen. "You wouldn't," he says.

"That’s an order, Captain," you say, and his cock twitches inside of you. You can't help the wicked smile. You’re learning a lot about him today.

"You're the worst."

"You love it," you retort.

His hands move to your waist, and he pulls you closer.

"I love you," he breathes.

You can feel yourself clench around him at his words, and he hisses through his teeth.

"Say it again."

"I love you."

Your lips meet his, and his tongue slides into your mouth as his hands roam your body. You can feel his heart beating wildly in his chest, his lips are warm, and his breath is hot, and his body is so close to yours, the feeling is overwhelming.

He's everything.

"I love you," he says again, his voice hoarse.

"I love you, Rex."

"I never thought I'd hear you say that."

"It's true," you gasp.

His hips stutter, and you pull away, giving him a look of warning, and his jaw clenches.

"Sorry, cyar'ika. I couldn't help it."

"I know."

"Let me make it up to you."

"Wh— ah!"

You cry out as his fingers find your clit, and your walls flutter. The movement sends pleasure shooting through you, and your legs shake, the pace of your hips unsteady.

"That's it," he coos. "Come for me."

"Not yet," you gasp. "Need you to— oh, fuck, Rex."

His hips snap up, meeting your thrusts, and the new pace is relentless. He's chasing his own release, and you're right there with him. You can't take it anymore.

"Please, please, I can't—"

"Go ahead," he urges.

You can't stop the cry that tumbles from your lips. You can feel the orgasm building, and your hips are bucking wildly.

"I can't—I can't," you sob.

"Come for me, cyar'ika. Come on my cock."

The words are enough to send you over the edge, and he swallows your cries of pleasure. You're trembling above him, your nails are digging into his skin, and the pressure of his fingers against your clit is enough to make your hips jerk.

"Kriff, I can feel you," he breathes. "Your little pussy is squeezing me so tightly."

"Please," you beg. You're not even sure what you're begging him for.

All you know is that he feels so good, and you're so sensitive, and the sensations are too much and not enough.

"That's it," he murmurs. "Good girl."

"I can't, I can't, I can't-"

"Shh, shh, it's okay."

He's so gentle even as he sets a brutal pace, his hips snapping up to meet yours. You can feel the head of his cock hitting the end of your channel, and his fingers are rubbing frantic circles around your clit.

The pressure is almost painful, but it feels so good.

"Oh, fuck, Rex," you cry out.

"Come again," he demands.

"I can't," you protest. "It's too much."

"You can," he counters. "Do it for me."

The words send a thrill through you, and you can feel the pleasure building. Your walls are fluttering around him, your hips are bucking, and you can't control the noises coming from your lips.

"That's it," he growls.

Your orgasm washes over you, and this time it's stronger, tears spilling over as his name falls from your lips over and over again. You can feel your release gushing out of you, coating his cock and the sheets below.

The sight is so filthy, but it only seems to spur him on. Rex grips your hips tight enough that you know you’ll bruise, and the thought sends another thrill through you. You want him to leave his mark. He fucks up into you with a force that has the headboard slamming against the wall, and his thrusts are losing their rhythm.

"I'm so close," he breathes.

You're barely coherent, but you can't help but latch on, his words sending another rush of heat through you. "You gonna come for me, Captain?"

He shudders, and his eyes flutter shut, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly. He can't find the words.

"You've been so good for me," you purr breathlessly. "Let go."

You can see the tension leaving his shoulders, his jaw slack. His breath is coming in shallow gasps, and his thrusts are unsteady. He's teetering on the edge, and all it takes is a few more words from you.

"Fill me up."

"Cyar'ika," he warns.

"Do it," you order.

"Fuck, cyar'ika," he breathes. "Oh, fuck, I'm coming, I'm—"

He curses, his head falling back against the pillow, and his cock pulses as he spills inside of you, his hands tight on your hips to hold you down. You can feel the warmth of his seed filling you, and the sensation is enough to make the corners of your vision darken.

"I can feel it," you murmur. "I can feel you, kriff, Rex."

He groans, his arms pulling you down, and you collapse against his chest. You're not sure how long you stay like that, just holding each other. You can't feel anything except him, his hands running up and down your spine, and his lips pressed to the top of your head.

“So,” you say after a while, and he can hear the smugness in your voice.

You tilt your head, and the look he gives you is withering.

"Don't start," he warns.

"Captain, huh? I didn't know that was your thing"

"That's not—"

"What? You don't want to talk about the fact that your cock gets hard when I call you Captain?"

On cue, the appendage in question twitches, and Rex closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It's not— ugh, kriff," he mutters.

You can't stop the laughter that bubbles up.

"You're cute when you're embarrassed," you coo.

"Don't patronize me," he says, but the words have no heat behind them.

"I'd never dream of it, sir."

You can see the blush rising in his cheeks, and his eyes darken.

"That's an order," he grumbles.

You lean up, brushing your lips against his, and the touch is soft and gentle. He melts into it, his hands resting on your waist.

"Yes, Captain," you say.

"I can't—kriff. You can't say things like that, mesh'la." His expression is pained, and the sound that escapes him is almost a whine.

"You're right," you agree. "I can do better."

He raises an eyebrow, and his jaw drops as your fingers wrap around his wrist. His eyes follow the motion as you pull his hand between your thighs. You let out a satisfied moan as his fingers dip between your folds, and he can't tear his gaze away from the sight of his seed dripping from your cunt when his softening cock slides out of you.

"You're a mess," he says reverently.

"I'm a mess because of you."

He hums, his fingers gathering some of his spend and sliding it back into you.

"Is this what you were imagining, Captain?"

He shudders at the title, and his hips cant, his cock stirring to life.

You can't help the grin. "It is, isn't it?"

"You're terrible," he growls.

"Oh, I'm not terrible. I'm the best you've ever had."

He lets out a breathless laugh. "You're the only one I've ever had," he admits.

You pull back, staring at him in surprise, and the look on his face is unreadable.

"Are you— are you serious?"

"Of course I'm serious," he says, brow raised.

"But--"

"Cyare, I've only ever wanted you." His words are simple, and they're said with a conviction that steals the breath from your lungs.

"Oh."

You're speechless. You're not sure what you'd imagined the past few months. You're not even sure if you'd ever given much thought to it, but the idea that you're the only person who has ever made him feel like this is dizzying.

"I've loved you for a very long time," he confesses, and the words make your heart ache. "I never thought—kriff, I never thought you'd feel the same."

"I love you," you say firmly. "So much."

He grins, and the smile is so wide that his cheeks are dimpling. You can't resist. You lean down to kiss him again, and the way he holds you, like you're the most precious thing in the world, makes the feeling in your chest bloom.

"I'll say it every day for the rest of our lives, if that's what you need," you say.

"Don't make promises you can't keep," he murmurs.

"I wouldn't," you promise.

He stares at you for a moment, his gaze intense, and his grip tightens. You can see him steeling himself, and the words he speaks make you shiver.

"Good, because I intend to marry you someday."

"Someday," you echo. You're not sure if you believe him, if that's even possible for you, but you believe that he believes it.

"When the war is over," he confirms. "When the fighting is done, and we've finally got a chance at peace, I'll give you the galaxy, cyare. And a family, if you want one."

"Rex, I—" You swallow thickly, and he can see the emotions flickering across your face. His fingers are drawing shapes on your hip, and his eyes are locked with yours.

"I'm not asking for an answer now," he says gently. "I just— I want you to know how serious I am."

You nod, and the silence that stretches between you is heavy.

"You really mean it," you finally say.

"Of course I do."

"What happens if—"

"There is no 'if.'" His tone leaves no room for argument, and he shifts, sitting up. The new position brings you into his lap, and your knees are straddling his waist. He rests his forehead against yours, and his breath fans across your face.

"Whatever happens, we'll face it together."

"Together," you murmur.

"I'm with you. Always."

You close the distance, kissing him softly. It's nice, holding him like this. The feeling of his arms around you is enough to drive the fears from your mind, pushing them to the furthest corners. You can feel yourself relaxing, the tension leaving your shoulders, and his hands roam your body, exploring every inch.

"You know," you begin, your voice quiet, and your lips brush against his with every word. "I'm still waiting for a tour of the barracks, Captain. Oh, the hangar too."

His breath hitches, and you can feel him starting to harden again under you.

"Cyare," he breathes.

"I'd love to see your office," you continue, and his eyes darken. "You can give me a private tour, just the two of us. I'll wear a skirt, and you can bend me over your desk."

His cock is fully erect now, and he can't stop the groan.

"And the showers," you purr, gently rotating your hips. "I bet they're big. Just big enough for the two of us. We could get the water nice and hot, and I could drop to my knees..."

"Kriff," he swears.

"Or…"

He's breathing heavily, his fingers digging into your skin.

"We could do that now," you offer.

"Cyare." His tone is pleading, and the sound sends a thrill through you. You can feel the ache building between your legs, and your thighs are sticky.

"I'm already dripping wet," you whisper.

"That's it."

He moves so fast that it makes you yelp, and the next thing you know, he's on his feet, carrying you, and your legs are wrapped around his waist. He walks swiftly towards the 'fresher, and the feeling of him sliding against your core makes you shudder.

"You're going to be the death of me, cyare," he murmurs.

"Maybe," you concede. "But I think we can agree that it'll be a great way to go."

The door slides shut behind him, and the sound of his laughter is enough to make you melt.

"A great way to go," he echoes.

You know the path ahead of you is treacherous. You know there will be more battles, and more losses, and more nights where you're unable to sleep. You know there will be pain, and fear, and sorrow.

But there will be hope too, and joy, and happiness. A home, and a family, and a future.

It will be worth it.

[star-wars-writing]

send me a pairing and a number and i’ll write you a drabble

(Part one: 1-50)

51. “What the hell are you wearing?” 52. “Can I kiss you?” 53. “Who crawls through someone’s window at 4am to go for ice cream?!” 54. “I don’t hate you. I could never hate you. That’s the problem.” 55. “Our first date is a picnic on a beach under the stars? Have you swallowed a romance novel? Do I need to call a doctor?” 56. “I can’t stand the thought of losing you.” 57. “Teach me to fight.” 58. “I’d die for you. Of course, I’d haunt you in the afterlife but really, it’s the thought that counts.” 59. “Tell me to go and I will, but if you ask me to stay I’ll never leave you again.” 60. “Before you decide to murder me, let me explain…” 61. “I love you. I’m completely and utterly in love with you. Please don’t get married.” 62. “It’s only one night, we’ll just share the bed.” 63. “Stop running from this. I know I’m not the only one who feels it.” 64. “Are you ticklish?” 65. “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.” 66. “The only thing I want is you.” 67. “Of all the people I could’ve gotten stuck in an elevator with and it just had to be you.” 68. “PILLOW FIGHT!” 69. “Why the hell are you bleeding!?” 70. “You’re so beautiful.” 71. “Kiss me, quick!” 72. “I will knock you on your ass if you even think about it.” 73. “We shouldn’t be doing this.” 74. “Don’t let go.” 75. “I’m going for a swim. Do you wanna join me?” 76. “I need you to pretend we’re dating…” 77. “There was never a choice.” 78. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you.” 79. “That’s the third time I’ve saved your life!”  80. “How can you think I’m anything but hopelessly in love with you?” 81. “I need you to leave.” 82. “This is all your fault! I can’t believe I listened to you!” 83. “It’s always been you.” 84. “I’m dying.” 85. “I will never apologize for saving your life, even if it costs me my own.” 86. “I guess dying with you isn’t the worse way to go.” 87. “You were never just my friend.” 88. “Don’t panic but I think we might have accidentally gotten married…” 89. “I’m not leaving you!” 90. “I can’t do this anymore.” 91. “I remember everything.” 92. “What do you want me to say?” 93. “I tried, but I just can’t stay away from you anymore.” 94. “I bet I can make you scream my name.” 95. “There’s no going back if we do this.” 96. “I never thought you’d hurt me but I was wrong. You hurt me the most.” 97. “I want you and I know you want me too.” 98. “I can’t watch you with someone else. It’s tearing me apart.” 99. “We’re in an abandoned lodge in the middle of nowhere. Sure, you’re totally right, nothing bad could ever happen here.” 100. A quote of your choice.

[star-wars-writing]

send me a pairing and a number and i'll write you a drabble

“Come over here and make me.”

“Have you lost your damn mind!?”

“Please, don’t leave.”

“Do you…well…I mean…I could give you a massage?”

“Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

“Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?”

“I almost lost you.”

“Wanna bet?”

“Don’t you ever do that again!”

“Teach me how to play?”

“Don’t you dare throw that snowba-, goddammit!”

“I think we need to talk.”

“Kiss me.”

“Hey, I’m with you, okay? Always.”

“So, I found this waterfall…”

“It could be worse.”

“Looks like we’ll be trapped for a while…”

“This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you’ve ever had. Of course I’m in.”

“The paint’s supposed to go where?”

“You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.”

“We’re in the middle of a thunderstorm and you wanna stop and feel the rain?”

“I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”

“Just once.”

“You’re the only one I trust to do this.”

“I can’t believe you talked me into this.”

“I got you a present.”

“I’m pregnant.”

“Marry me?”

“I thought you were dead.”

“It’s not what it looks like…”

“You lied to me.”

“I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.”

“Please don’t do this.”

“If you keep looking at me like that we won’t make it to a bed.”

“You heard me. Take. It. Off.”

“I wish I could hate you.”

“Wanna dance?”

“You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”

“Hey! I was gonna eat that!”

“Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?”

“You did all of this for me?”

“I swear it was an accident.”

“YOU DID WHAT?!”

“If you die, I’m gonna kill you.”

“Tell me a secret.”

“Hey, have you seen the..? Oh.”

“No one needs to know.”

“Boo.”

“Well this is awkward…”

Writer’s preference

[star-wars-writing]

Across the Academic Divide

Another story for the @codywanbingo with the theme Romance and prompt Netflix and Chill. I hope you'll like it.

Under the sterile glow of fluorescent lights, the library's silence enveloped Cody like a suffocating blanket, each tick of the clock a reminder of the thesis that remained stubbornly incomplete. The weight of expectation pressed down on him, a tangible force that seemed to squeeze the air from his lungs with every breath. Books and papers sprawled across the table in a chaotic testament to his desperation, the words blurring into incomprehensible symbols that mocked his exhaustion.

Across the room, his laptop screen glowed accusingly, the cursor blinking in rhythm with Cody's increasing heart rate. He leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair in frustration. The isolation of academic pursuit had never been so palpable, a chasm between him and the world outside that seemed to grow wider with each passing day.

It was in moments like these that his mind invariably wandered to Professor Obi-Wan Kenobi—his mentor, his guiding light through the dense fog of academic rigor. There was a warmth to Obi-Wan that went beyond his scholarly achievements, a kindness in his eyes that seemed to cut through the cold formality of their interactions. Cody had always respected him, not just for his intellect but for the way he navigated the complexities of human emotion with the same finesse he applied to his lectures.

The thought of Obi-Wan brought an unbidden smile to Cody's lips, a flicker of warmth in the cold expanse of his solitude. He remembered the way Obi-Wan's eyes would light up when discussing the nuances of their field, the passionate timbre of his voice that could make even the most mundane topics seem like undiscovered territories waiting to be explored. There was a grace to him, an elegance that transcended the academic, hinting at depths Cody had only begun to glimpse.

Unexplored attraction simmered beneath the surface of his admiration, a current of emotion that Cody had yet to fully acknowledge. It was there in the quickening of his pulse whenever Obi-Wan entered a room, in the lingering glances that seemed to speak volumes, and in the quiet hope that fluttered in his chest at the thought of their next meeting.

The library, with its oppressive silence and towering shelves, felt miles away from the world Obi-Wan inhabited—a world of intellectual exploration and emotional warmth, where Cody longed to be. The gulf between student and professor, between admiration and something more, seemed insurmountable, yet the mere thought of Obi-Wan offered a beacon of hope in the overwhelming darkness of his academic struggles.

Cody's gaze drifted back to his laptop, the blinking cursor now a challenge rather than a condemnation. With a deep breath, he leaned forward, the image of Obi-Wan's encouraging smile etched in his mind, a silent promise that he was not alone in this journey. The words began to flow, slowly at first, then with increasing confidence—a testament to the profound impact of a professor who had become so much more in the quiet spaces of Cody's heart.

*** 

In the hallowed halls of the university, where knowledge was both sword and shield, Professor Obi-Wan Kenobi moved with a purpose that belied the turmoil brewing within him. The quiet of the corridors echoed the solitude he observed in his most diligent student, Cody, whose struggle with his thesis had not gone unnoticed by the professor's discerning eyes.

Obi-Wan's steps took him unwittingly towards the library, the locus of Cody's academic seclusion. As he entered the quiet sanctuary, his gaze found Cody almost immediately, a lone figure amidst a sea of books and papers. There was a resilience to Cody, a silent strength that drew Obi-Wan to him, transcending the boundaries of their student-teacher relationship. The young man's dedication was admirable, yet the isolation it wrought was a concern that tugged at Obi-Wan's heart with increasing insistence.

Approaching Cody's table with measured steps, Obi-Wan cleared his throat softly, not wanting to startle him. “Cody," he began, his voice a gentle intrusion into the silence. "You're here rather late. How goes the battle with your thesis?"

Cody looked up, surprise flickering across his features before smoothing into a respectful mask. "Professor Kenobi," he greeted, a semblance of relief coloring his tone. "It's... progressing, albeit more slowly than I'd like."

Obi-Wan noted the shadows under Cody's eyes, the weariness that seemed to cling to him like a second skin. "Your dedication is commendable," he said, pulling up a chair. "But even the most valiant warriors need to rest." His attempt at humor was light, but his concern was palpable, a silent acknowledgment of the toll Cody's pursuit was taking on him.

Cody's smile was tentative, a flicker of warmth in the cool library air. "I suppose I'm not very good at conceding defeat, even to my own limitations."

Obi-Wan studied him, the pull he felt towards Cody now a vivid presence in his heart. It was more than professional concern that warmed his voice; it was a genuine desire to see Cody not just succeed, but thrive. "There's a fine line between perseverance and obstinacy, Cody. Sometimes, the bravest thing one can do is to acknowledge when to pause and seek perspective."

The silence that followed was filled with unspoken words, a current of understanding that flowed between them. Obi-Wan's presence, so calm and assured, was a balm to Cody's frayed nerves. The professor's words, imbued with empathy and wisdom, sparked a glimmer of hope within Cody, a reminder that he was not alone in this endeavor.

Cody's defenses began to crumble, the barriers he had erected between himself and the world showing cracks. "I just... I don't want to disappoint anyone. Least of all, you," he admitted, the weight of his confession hanging in the air between them.

Obi-Wan's heart clenched at the vulnerability in Cody's words. "You could never disappoint me," he said earnestly. "Your journey is your own, Cody. All I ask is that you don't lose yourself along the way." His concern was a tangible thing, a testament to the depth of his care for Cody's well-being.

The moment stretched on, a tableau of mentor and mentee bound by mutual respect and an emerging sense of connection that transcended the roles they played. In the silence of the library, amidst the tomes of knowledge and the whispers of history, a bond was forged, delicate yet unyielding.

As Obi-Wan stood to leave, he paused, looking down at Cody with a softness in his eyes that he seldom allowed himself to show. "Remember, the greatest lessons often come not from the pages of a book, but from understanding the rhythm of our own hearts."

Cody watched him go, the professor's words echoing in his mind, a soothing melody amidst the cacophony of his doubts. In that moment, Cody felt seen, truly seen, not just as a student, but as a person—a feeling both exhilarating and terrifying.

The library's silence enveloped him once more, but now it was a comforting embrace rather than a suffocating void. Inspired by Obi-Wan's faith in him, Cody turned back to his thesis with a renewed sense of purpose, the isolation of his academic pursuit softened by the knowledge that he was not alone in his struggles. In the quiet library, a seed of something new began to take root in his heart, the possibility of a connection that might one day blossom into something neither of them could yet comprehend.

**** 

The ambiance of the university's makeshift cinema, a quaint assembly within the embrace of its arts department, was alight with the soft hum of anticipation. Cody, having wandered into this enclave of film enthusiasts by a twist of fate, found himself momentarily adrift in the novelty of the experience. The room, usually stark and echoing with the footsteps of academia, was transformed into a sanctuary of shared anticipation for the cinematic journey ahead.

As Cody hesitated on the periphery, uncertain yet intrigued, Obi-Wan Kenobi’s presence cut through the thrum of budding excitement. The professor, known within the hallowed halls for his scholarly rigor, stood amidst the film club’s members not as an authority but as one of their own, a fellow devotee of the art form. His role as the club's advisor, a facet of his identity Cody had been unaware of, added layers to the man Cody had come to respect deeply in the academic sphere.

"Cody," Obi-Wan called out, his voice a beacon in the low-lit room, tinged with a warmth that seemed to stretch beyond the bounds of their customary student-teacher dynamic. "This is a surprise. I didn’t expect to see you amongst our cinema aficionados tonight."

Cody, momentarily caught in the headlights of Obi-Wan’s unexpected welcome, felt a flush of warmth spread across his cheeks. "I, uh, stumbled upon it," he managed to say, his usual confidence faltering under Obi-Wan’s attentive gaze. "I thought it might be... enlightening."

The exchange, simple as it was, crackled with an undercurrent of uncharted territory. There was a palpable shift in the air, a mingling of professional respect and a budding curiosity that seemed to draw them into a sphere of intimacy previously unexplored. Obi-Wan’s smile, soft and genuine, eased Cody’s initial trepidation, bridging the gap between them with an ease that Cody found both comforting and disconcerting.

"Enlightenment comes in many forms," Obi-Wan replied, his tone imbued with a hint of playfulness that Cody had never heard in the lecture hall. "Perhaps tonight’s film will offer a different perspective. After all, the world of cinema is vast and varied."

As they settled into their seats, the space between them charged with a new awareness, Cody found himself grappling with the duality of Obi-Wan’s identity. The professor he respected, whose intellect and guidance he valued above all, was also a man of deep passions and interests, facets that Cody had never considered in the rigid structure of their academic interactions.

The room dimmed further, the chatter subsiding into a collective breath of anticipation as the film began to play. On screen, worlds unfolded, stories were told in shades of light and shadow, and emotions were painted in broad strokes of color and sound. Cody found himself drawn into the narrative, yet part of his attention remained tethered to Obi-Wan, to the subtle shifts in his expression, the soft intakes of breath at moments of tension, and the quiet laughter that seemed to resonate directly within Cody.

Their shared experience of the film, punctuated by whispered insights and shared glances, wove a thread of connection between them, subtle yet undeniable. Cody was acutely aware of the warmth radiating from Obi-Wan’s side, the occasional brush of their arms in the shared space between their chairs. Each touch was electric, sparking flashes of awareness that Cody struggled to categorize.

In the dim light, Cody stole glances at Obi-Wan, observing the way the flickering images played across his features, casting him in a light that Cody found mesmerizing. It was as if, in the shared silence of their movie-watching, a dialogue was unfolding between them, one of curiosity, of mutual discovery, and an emerging sense of camaraderie that transcended their known world.

The film, with its tapestry of emotions and narratives, became a backdrop to the unfolding realization within Cody—a dawning understanding of the complexity of his feelings towards Obi-Wan. It was a revelation that unfolded quietly, between the lines of their conversation, in the shared laughter and the silent exchanges that spoke of a connection burgeoning on the cusp of something deeper.

As the evening wore on, the boundaries of their relationship subtly shifted, marked by a camaraderie that felt both exhilarating and daunting. Cody, navigating the tumultuous waters of his own emotions, found himself drawn inexorably towards Obi-Wan, propelled by a mixture of professional admiration and a deepening personal curiosity.

In the shared space of their film club encounter, Cody began to see Obi-Wan not just as his professor but as a man of depth and passion, a realization that promised to redefine the contours of their relationship. The night, with its unexpected connections and revelations, had set the stage for a journey neither man had anticipated, one that promised to explore the intricate dance between respect, admiration, and the burgeoning whispers of something more.

*** 

As the screen went black and the projector's hum faded into an eerie silence, a collective sigh rippled through the dimly lit room, a shared moment of disappointment amongst the film club's members. The sudden power outage, an unwelcome intruder in their cinematic sanctuary, cast the room into shadows, the only light now emanating from the emergency exit signs, casting an ethereal glow.

In the midst of this unexpected turn, Obi-Wan, ever the beacon of calm, retrieved a laptop from his bag with a reassuring smile. "The show must go on," he declared, his voice a comforting anchor in the tide of mild chaos. The group congregated closer, drawn to the promise of continuing their journey into the cinematic world, albeit on a much smaller screen.

Cody found himself shoulder to shoulder with Obi-Wan, the close proximity a stark contrast to the formal distance usually maintained in the lecture halls and corridors of the university. The warmth from Obi-Wan's side was palpable, a reassuring presence that Cody found unexpectedly comforting.

As Obi-Wan balanced the laptop on his knees, their sides pressed together, Cody was acutely aware of every shift, every gesture Obi-Wan made. The space between them, now devoid of the barriers of their roles, felt charged with a new energy, a silent acknowledgment of their shared experience in this intimate setting.

The film resumed, its light flickering across their faces, drawing them back into the story. Yet, the narrative on screen could scarcely compete with the one unfolding between them, a story of two individuals exploring the tentative steps towards a connection that transcended the academic.

Their shared laughter at the film's lighter moments created a bridge, a pathway through the walls Cody had meticulously constructed around himself. Each chuckle, each shared glance, wove a thread of camaraderie and understanding, binding them in a shared experience that was both simple and profoundly intimate.

Obi-Wan's laughter, a sound Cody found he wanted to hear more of, was genuine and unguarded. It was a revelation to Cody, witnessing this side of Obi-Wan, free from the constraints of his professorial facade. In these moments, Cody saw not Professor Kenobi but Obi-Wan, a man with a rich tapestry of emotions and a depth of character that Cody found increasingly compelling.

The warmth of Obi-Wan sitting so close, their arms occasionally brushing in the cramped space, sent a cascade of sensations through Cody, stirring feelings he hadn't anticipated. Each accidental touch was like a spark, igniting a flurry of thoughts and emotions, a silent dialogue that spoke of possibilities Cody had never allowed himself to consider.

In the soft glow of the laptop screen, Cody caught glimpses of Obi-Wan's profile, the way his eyes reflected the film's light, the subtle expressions that danced across his face. Cody found himself captivated, drawn to Obi-Wan in a way that felt both exhilarating and terrifying.

The intimacy of their setting, the shared whispers commenting on the film's plot twists, created an atmosphere of closeness that Cody had never experienced with Obi-Wan. It was as if, in the absence of the university's formalities, they were free to explore a new dimension of their relationship, one that was unfolding with each shared smile and whispered word.

As the movie progressed, the world beyond the laptop screen seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them, wrapped in a bubble of shared experience and growing connection. Cody found himself leaning slightly into Obi-Wan, a subconscious gesture of trust and affinity, drawn by the warmth and the unspoken promise of understanding and acceptance.

In this unexpected setting, barriers broke down, and the roles that defined them outside this room seemed irrelevant. Here, they were simply Cody and Obi-Wan, two individuals finding common ground in the shared language of cinema, laughter, and the subtle exploration of an emerging bond that promised to redefine their understanding of each other.

The power outage, initially a disruption, had become a catalyst, transforming a routine film screening into a pivotal moment in their relationship. In the close quarters of their makeshift cinema, Cody and Obi-Wan discovered a connection that was as profound as it was unexpected, a connection that hinted at the depth of the journey they were only just beginning to embark upon.

**** 

In the quietude that enveloped them, the film unfurled its tale with gentle persistence, drawing Cody and Obi-Wan deeper into its emotional landscape. The laptop's soft glow illuminated their faces, casting shadows that danced in harmony with the flickering images on screen. It was during one particularly poignant scene, a moment charged with unspoken yearnings and tender revelations, that the boundary between their two worlds subtly shifted.

The popcorn bowl, previously a mere accessory to their movie-watching experience, became the stage for a moment of unforeseen intimacy. As Cody reached in, his focus still partly on the screen, his hand brushed against Obi-Wan's in the dim light. The contact was brief, accidental, yet laden with an electricity that seemed to pulse through the air between them.

Time, for a heartbeat, seemed to stand still. Cody's breath hitched in his chest, his attention now fully wrenched from the film to the man beside him. Obi-Wan's hand had stilled as well, the warmth of his skin a tangible reminder of the proximity they shared. The air felt charged, heavy with a significance that went beyond casual touch, igniting a spark that Cody felt resonate deep within him.

There was a hesitation, a moment suspended in the ether of possibilities, where both men seemed to grapple with the sudden shift in their dynamic. Cody's heart raced, a tumult of emotions swirling within him—surprise, confusion, but most overwhelmingly, a burgeoning sense of connection to Obi-Wan that he couldn't quite comprehend.

Obi-Wan, for his part, withdrew his hand slowly, almost reluctantly, his eyes meeting Cody's in a gaze that seemed to search, to question. The soft light reflected in Obi-Wan's eyes, revealing a depth of emotion that Cody had never seen before. It was a look that spoke volumes, conveying an understanding and a curiosity that mirrored Cody's own.

The silence that followed was laden with a new awareness, a recognition of the uncharted territory they had inadvertently stumbled upon. The film continued to play, its narrative unfolding in the background, but the real story was happening right here, in the space between them, in the charged air that seemed to hum with potential.

Cody found himself at a loss for words, the usual ease with which he navigated his academic and personal life momentarily eluding him. The brush of their hands, such a simple, unintentional act, had opened a door to a realm of feeling he had not dared to explore, a realm where his admiration for Obi-Wan merged with a deeper, more complex web of emotion.

Obi-Wan, ever the composed presence, seemed to sense Cody's turmoil. With a gentle grace, he bridged the silence, his voice soft yet clear in the quiet room. "The film's themes of connection and understanding seem particularly resonant tonight," he observed, a subtle acknowledgment of the moment they had shared.

Cody nodded, grateful for Obi-Wan's ability to navigate the situation with such sensitivity. The comment was a lifeline, a way to contextualize the rush of feelings in a manner that felt safe, yet acknowledged the undercurrent of something more between them.

As they turned their attention back to the film, the atmosphere between them was altered, imbued with a sense of intimacy and understanding that had not been present before. The movie progressed, its story weaving through themes of love, loss, and redemption, each scene reflecting back at them the complexity of human emotion and connection.

The brush of their hands in the popcorn bowl had been a fleeting moment, but its impact lingered, a silent testament to the burgeoning connection between them. In the shared space of their accidental intimacy, Cody and Obi-Wan found themselves on the cusp of a journey neither had anticipated, a journey that promised to explore the depths of their relationship and the possibilities that lay within the simple act of reaching out.

**** 

As the narrative of the film wove its intricate dance of light and shadow across the small laptop screen, the room around Cody and Obi-Wan seemed to recede, leaving them adrift in a shared sea of emotion and silent revelation. The movie, a poignant tale of love found, lost, and reclaimed against the odds, mirrored the tempestuous journey of the human heart with such acuity that it seemed to speak directly to them, to the unspoken, burgeoning feelings that had begun to take root in the quiet space between their side-by-side seats.

In the flickering half-light, their eyes met and parted like dancers, a delicate choreography of glances that spoke volumes. Each look was a brushstroke on the canvas of their emerging connection, painting a picture of mutual recognition and the dawning of something more profound than either had anticipated. These stolen moments, when their gazes locked, were laden with the weight of unvoiced questions and the glimmer of possibilities that hung tantalizingly within reach.

The air around them was thick with tension, a palpable charge that seemed to hum with the potential of new beginnings. It was as if the film itself had become a conduit for their emotions, each scene echoing their internal landscapes, drawing them closer with the gravitational pull of shared vulnerability and understanding.

A particularly emotional moment on screen—a heartfelt confession of love that transcended barriers and defied expectations—acted as a mirror, reflecting back at them the uncharted depths of their own feelings. The characters' courage in baring their souls to one another resonated deeply with Cody, stirring within him a tumult of emotions that he struggled to name. It was as if the movie had laid bare the essence of his own heart, revealing a truth he had scarcely admitted to himself.

Beside him, Obi-Wan's presence was a constant, a grounding force in the whirlwind of Cody's thoughts and feelings. Yet, as the scene unfolded, Cody sensed a shift in Obi-Wan, a subtle change in his demeanor that suggested he, too, was moved by the parallel between their situation and the lovers on screen. The professor's usual composure was pierced by the raw emotion of the moment, his gaze lingering on Cody with an intensity that left no room for doubt: the connection they shared was real, palpable, and charged with the promise of something yet to be defined.

In the aftermath of the scene, as the characters on screen navigated the fallout of their vulnerability, Cody and Obi-Wan found themselves caught in a moment of profound silence, a breath held in time. It was a silence that spoke louder than words, a tacit acknowledgment of the shift in their relationship, of the bridge being built between them with each shared experience, each exchanged glance.

The movie continued, its narrative arc bending towards resolution, but for Cody and Obi-Wan, the story was just beginning. The emotional resonance of the film had peeled back layers of defense, revealing the raw, unvarnished truth of their connection. In the shared space of their vulnerability, they found a mutual understanding, a recognition of the feelings that simmered just below the surface.

As the final scenes played out, the characters finding their way back to each other against all odds, Cody and Obi-Wan sat in a silence that was both comfortable and charged with anticipation. The journey of the film's protagonists, from uncertainty to love's triumphant return, offered a poignant parallel to their own, a beacon of hope in the unexplored territory of their burgeoning relationship.

In the dim light of the laptop, as the credits rolled and the room slowly brightened with the return of the overhead lights, Cody and Obi-Wan shared a look that was both an ending and a beginning. It was a look that acknowledged the journey they had undertaken, side by side, and the unspoken promise of the path that lay ahead. The movie had ended, but their story, with all its potential and promise, was just beginning to unfold.

**** 

The film had ended, its final scenes leaving a lingering silence that felt both heavy and hallowed, a sacred space within which truths could be unveiled. The room gradually filled with the soft sounds of the other members stirring, their movements a gentle intrusion into the bubble that Cody and Obi-Wan had inadvertently created around themselves. Yet, in the immediate vicinity of their shared seat, time seemed to stand still, the world beyond their conversation momentarily paused.

Cody, still caught in the emotional undertow of the film, found himself at a crossroads of vulnerability. The movie had stirred something within him, loosening the tightly held reins on his own guarded thoughts and feelings. With the dimming of the laptop screen came an unbidden surge of courage, propelling him into confessions that, until now, had remained locked away.

"It's just... sometimes, I feel so overwhelmed," Cody began, his voice a mere whisper, as if the words themselves were fragile. "Between my thesis and trying to meet everyone's expectations, I feel like I'm constantly on the verge of drowning." The admission hung in the air between them, a testament to Cody's struggle, rendered all the more poignant in the wake of their shared cinematic journey.

Obi-Wan, ever the empathetic listener, turned to face Cody, his expression one of profound understanding and compassion. The barriers of professor and student, mentor and mentee, seemed to dissolve in the face of Cody's raw honesty, leaving behind just two individuals sharing a moment of genuine human connection.

"I've been there, Cody," Obi-Wan shared, his voice tinged with the weight of memory. "There was a time when I too felt as though I was being crushed under the weight of expectations. The fear of failure, of not living up to the potential others saw in me, was almost paralyzing." His admission was a bridge, extending across the chasm of loneliness and doubt that Cody had thought insurmountable.

The room around them slowly emptied, the soft murmurs and footsteps of the departing members a distant echo to the intimacy of their conversation. Yet, neither Cody nor Obi-Wan seemed to notice; their world had contracted to the immediacy of their dialogue, a lifeline thrown across the waters of uncertainty and isolation.

Cody listened, a sense of awe mingling with the burgeoning respect and affection he felt for Obi-Wan. To hear his professor—this person he admired and looked up to—speak of vulnerabilities and past struggles was both humbling and deeply moving. It was a reminder that strength was not the absence of weakness but the courage to face it, to share it, and to grow from it.

"How did you overcome it?" Cody asked, the question a beacon in the fog of his own doubts.

"With time, patience, and understanding—both from myself and from those around me," Obi-Wan replied, his gaze steady and reassuring. "And by realizing that it's okay to ask for help, to admit that you're struggling. Strength lies in vulnerability, in the courage to show your true self, warts and all."

The conversation flowed, a meandering river of shared experiences, fears, and hopes. Obi-Wan spoke of his journey, of the challenges he had faced and the lessons learned along the way. Cody, in turn, opened up about his own fears, the pressure to succeed, and the isolation that his dedication had wrought upon him.

In the vulnerability of their exchange, a bond was forged, one built on mutual respect, understanding, and an unspoken promise of support. They spoke of the future, of paths yet to be walked, and of the strength to be found in companionship and shared burdens.

As the last of the film club members filtered out, leaving Cody and Obi-Wan in the quiet aftermath of their conversation, a sense of peace settled over them. The challenges ahead had not diminished, but the burden felt lighter, shared between shoulders strong enough to bear it together.

In that moment, as they rose from their seats, the world around them resumed its pace, the paused time starting once again to flow. Yet, for Cody and Obi-Wan, everything had changed. They stepped into the hallway, not as professor and student, but as companions on a journey, fortified by the shared understanding that, no matter the challenges ahead, they would not face them alone.

**** 

The remnants of their heart-to-heart lingered in the air, a tangible testament to the shift that had occurred between them. In the quiet aftermath, as the last echoes of their conversation faded into the hush of the emptying room, Cody and Obi-Wan remained, caught in a moment of profound realization. The boundaries that had once defined their interactions seemed to blur, the roles of professor and student no longer sufficient to encapsulate the depth of connection they now shared.

Cody, his heart a tumultuous sea of newfound emotions, found himself grappling with the implications of their exchange. The vulnerability they had shared, the mutual understanding and respect that had flowed so freely between them, had opened the door to something more—a potential that was exhilarating and daunting in equal measure.

Obi-Wan, for his part, seemed equally contemplative, his usually composed demeanor softened by the intimacy of their dialogue. There was a warmth in his gaze as he looked at Cody, a tenderness that spoke volumes of the journey they had embarked upon together. The air between them was charged with an unspoken question, a silent inquiry into the nature of the feelings that had begun to take root.

"It seems we've crossed a threshold, Cody," Obi-Wan finally said, his voice low and imbued with a weight that underscored the significance of their conversation. "What we've shared tonight... it goes beyond the confines of mentorship."

Cody's heart skipped a beat at the acknowledgment, the reality of their situation settling around him like a cloak. The admission was both a balm and a challenge, an invitation to explore the depths of their connection with honesty and courage.

"Yes," Cody agreed, his voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside him. "I feel it too. There's something... more between us." The words, once spoken, seemed to hang in the air, a fragile bridge spanning the gap between potential and reality.

The complexity of their situation was not lost on either man. The transition from mentor-mentee to something more was fraught with uncertainties and potential pitfalls. Yet, the foundation they had built—rooted in mutual respect, understanding, and now, a burgeoning attraction—offered a beacon of hope, a promise of what could be if they dared to navigate these uncharted waters together.

Obi-Wan stepped closer, closing the physical distance between them as a symbolic gesture of the emotional journey they were about to undertake. "Navigating this... it will require care, Cody. We must be mindful of the implications, of the potential impact on both our personal and professional lives."

Cody nodded, the gravity of Obi-Wan's words grounding him. "I understand. And I'm willing to explore this... with you, with caution and respect for those boundaries." The commitment in his voice was palpable, a vow to tread this new path with the care and consideration it deserved.

The acknowledgment of their mutual attraction, coupled with the complexities it introduced, marked a pivotal moment in their relationship. It was a threshold crossed, a door opened to possibilities hitherto unimagined. As they stood there, in the quiet aftermath of their heart-to-heart, Cody and Obi-Wan were acutely aware of the significance of this moment.

This was not a decision made lightly, nor a path chosen without foresight. It was a journey they agreed to embark upon together, with eyes wide open to the challenges ahead. The understanding and connection that had blossomed between them were too profound to ignore, a rare and precious thing that demanded exploration.

As they finally made their way out of the now-empty room, the world around them seemed both unchanged and entirely new. The campus outside was bathed in the soft glow of the evening, the quiet hum of night beginning to settle in. Yet, for Cody and Obi-Wan, the landscape of their relationship had transformed, offering a vista of potential that was both daunting and beautiful in its promise.

Their steps were measured, side by side, as they navigated the dimly lit paths of the university grounds. The night air was cool, a gentle caress against their skin, a reminder of the world's vastness and the small, yet significant, space they occupied within it. The path ahead was uncertain, filled with potential pitfalls and promises, but the journey—fraught with complexities and imbued with the thrill of new beginnings—was one they were now committed to exploring, together.

*** 

In the serene stillness that cloaked the university's grounds, the world around Cody and Obi-Wan seemed to hold its breath, a silent witness to the unfolding narrative between them. The evening air, crisp and redolent with the scent of blooming night flowers, carried a sense of anticipation, a prelude to the next chapter in their evolving story.

Obi-Wan, typically the epitome of restraint and composure, found himself navigating the tumultuous waters of newfound emotions. The revelations of the night had acted as a catalyst, dissolving the barriers that had once held back the tide of his feelings for Cody. It was a sensation both exhilarating and daunting, a departure from the safety of the known into the vast, uncharted territories of the heart.

As they walked, the soft crunch of gravel underfoot punctuated the silence, a rhythmic reminder of their journey's physical and metaphorical nature. Obi-Wan glanced at Cody, noting the thoughtful expression that played across his features, the soft glow of the campus lights casting shadows that danced across his face.

"Cody," Obi-Wan began, his voice breaking the silence with a gentle yet decisive timbre. "Tonight has been... illuminating, in more ways than one. I find myself reluctant to let it end here, to simply return to the roles we've known."

Cody turned to face him, the ambient light reflecting in his eyes, lending them a depth that Obi-Wan felt drawn into. The air between them was charged with a palpable energy, a magnetic pull that seemed to draw them inexorably closer.

"I feel the same," Cody admitted, his voice low, a mirror to the vulnerability and strength that had characterized their earlier conversation. "There's something between us, Obi-Wan. Something that goes beyond the classroom, beyond the academic."

Obi-Wan nodded, the acknowledgment igniting a spark of hope within him. "I'm glad to hear you say that," he said, taking a small, yet significant step closer. "Which is why I'd like to invite you to another movie night. Just the two of us, away from the constraints of our roles, to explore... whatever this is, between us."

The invitation hung between them, a proposition laden with potential and promise. Cody's response was a soft exhale, a release of the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, a sign of his own inner turmoil and burgeoning hope.

"I'd like that," Cody said, his voice steady, imbued with a conviction that belied the rapid beating of his heart. "To explore, to understand this connection... with you."

The agreement was a bridge, a tacit commitment to venture forth into the unknown together, to navigate the complexities of their feelings with the same integrity and respect that had defined their relationship thus far.

The decision to meet again, under the guise of another private viewing, was more than an arrangement; it was a declaration, a mutual acknowledgment of their interest in discovering the potential of their bond beyond the academic context. It was an exploration of possibilities, of paths untrodden and futures unimagined, a journey they were now committed to undertaking together.

As they continued their walk, the campus around them seemed to come alive with a new vibrancy, a reflection of the internal shifts that had taken place within them both. The night, with all its mysteries and promises, stretched out before them, a canvas upon which their story could unfold in hues and shades yet to be discovered.

The conversation shifted then, to lighter topics, to shared interests and anecdotes that wove a tapestry of companionship and mutual understanding. Yet, beneath the casual exchange, there was an undercurrent of excitement, a palpable sense of anticipation for what lay ahead.

Their steps eventually led them to part ways, but the promise of their next meeting lingered in the air, a beacon guiding them forward. As they said their goodnights, the exchange was laden with unspoken promises and the thrill of new beginnings.

In the quiet of his own space, Cody found himself replaying the evening's events, each moment a precious memory to be savored. The prospect of their upcoming meeting filled him with a sense of anticipation he hadn't known he was capable of feeling, a testament to the profound impact Obi-Wan had made on his life.

Similarly, Obi-Wan, in the solitude of his own contemplation, found himself looking forward to their next encounter with an eagerness that surprised him. The decision to extend the invitation, to openly express his desire to explore the connection they shared, felt like stepping into daylight after a long night, a bold move toward a future filled with unknown but promising possibilities.

The night's revelations had indeed marked a turning point, a pivotal moment that set the course for a journey neither man could fully anticipate. Yet, the path ahead, with all its uncertainties, was a journey they were both willing to take, emboldened by the shared recognition of their mutual attraction and the complexities it introduced into their lives.

Comments and likes are always welcome.

[star-wars-writing]

Whispers Among the Vines: Echoes of Legacy

I must extend my sincerest apologies for the unexpected silence from my end these past two weeks. Life, with its unpredictable ebb and flow, required me to step back into the whirlwind of work after a brief hiatus. The transition back has been both rewarding and demanding, leaving little room for writing and doing anything creative. That being said, this is the @codywanbingoingo with prompt: Drinks. I hope you like it.

As the first light of dawn crept over the horizon, it cast a golden glow over Kenobi Vineyards, revealing a landscape at once haunting and beautiful. The vineyard, sprawling across rolling hills, was a patchwork of verdant growth and neglect. Ancient vines, their roots deeply entwined with the soil's history, stretched towards the sky with a weary resilience, their leaves tinged with the struggle of seasons past. These guardians of the land, once meticulously tended, now bore the marks of time's indifference, their supports weathered and leaning, like weary soldiers after a long battle.

The trellises, designed to cradle burgeoning life, stood fractured and forgotten, their wooden bones bleached by the sun, a stark reminder of the care that had once flourished here. Stone walls, constructed with the painstaking effort of generations, crumbled in places, surrendering to the relentless advance of nature as wildflowers and ivy claimed them as their own. The beauty of the vineyard was undeniable, yet each breathtaking view was marred by evidence of decay, the land crying out for a steward's touch.

Amidst this beauty and disrepair, the winery buildings themselves told a story of faded glory. The main house, with its once-proud facade, now showed cracks and peeling paint, the windows reflecting the morning light in a mosaic of hope and desolation. Nearby, the barn and fermentation rooms, the heart of the vineyard's operations, stood silent, their doors hanging open, revealing shadows that spoke of abandoned crafts and empty barrels.

The air, heavy with the scent of earth and vine, carried whispers of the vineyard's past splendor, mingling with a tangible sense of loss. Dew clung to spiderwebs strung like delicate lace between the vines, sparkling in the sunlight as if to highlight the beauty that persisted in the face of neglect. The ground, parched and cracked, thirsted for attention, a stark canvas awaiting the touch of rain or the gentle care of a gardener's hand.

In this place where time seemed to stand still, the wild and the cultivated converged, creating a landscape that was as compelling as it was heartrending. The vineyard, in its state of serene desolation, stood as a testament to the cycles of growth and decline, a mirror to the natural world's enduring struggle and resilience. It was a portrait of potential left untapped, a dream suspended in the golden morning light, waiting for the moment of renewal to breathe life back into its veins.

As the sun climbed higher, its rays piercing through the morning mist, Obi-Wan Kenobi made his solitary way along the narrow paths that wound through the heart of Kenobi Vineyards. Each step carried the weight of centuries, the legacy of his family pressing down upon him with a force that was almost palpable. The vines, ancient and gnarled, seemed to lean towards him as he passed, like old friends reaching out for comfort or perhaps offering their silent support.

Obi-Wan paused, his gaze lingering on a particularly old vine that twisted around its trellis in an intricate dance of life and survival. His hand hovered over a cluster of grapes, not yet ripe, but full of promise. The touch of the morning dew against his skin was a bittersweet reminder of the vineyard's needs—needs that had grown increasingly difficult to meet. 

"It's not just the land that's parched," he murmured to himself, his voice barely louder than a whisper, lost amidst the symphony of nature that surrounded him. His words were an acknowledgment of his own inner drought, a reflection of the loneliness that had settled in his heart since he had taken on the responsibility of the vineyard.

The burden of the vineyard's future was a constant companion, an ever-present shadow that followed him through the rows of vines. Obi-Wan couldn't help but feel the vineyard's decline was a reflection of his own inadequacies. "I promised you I'd keep this place alive," he whispered, not to the vine but to the memory of his ancestors, those who had cultivated these lands into prosperity. The wind, picking up slightly, seemed to carry his words away, an offering to those who had walked these paths before him.

As he continued his walk, Obi-Wan's thoughts drifted to the upcoming visit from the wine critic, Cody. The man's reputation preceded him, known for his discerning palate and the power his words held over the fate of wineries. The prospect of Cody's visit was a double-edged sword; it held the potential for salvation or the final nail in the coffin for Kenobi Vineyards.

Reaching the edge of the property, Obi-Wan stood overlooking the valley below, the view a tapestry of wild beauty and cultivated order. The vineyard's struggles seemed insignificant against the backdrop of the sprawling landscape, yet to Obi-Wan, they were the world.

"I need to show him the soul of this place, not just the wine," Obi-Wan resolved, his voice stronger now, carrying a new edge of determination. The vineyard was more than just land and vines; it was a legacy of love, resilience, and the unbreakable bond between the earth and those who tend it.

Turning back towards the heart of the vineyard, Obi-Wan's stride carried a renewed purpose. The visit from Cody was an opportunity, perhaps the last he would have, to turn the tide. As he made his way back, the vineyard seemed to respond to his resolve, the air charged with a sense of anticipation.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur of activity. Obi-Wan lost himself in the work, his hands moving with practiced ease as he tended to the vines, each gesture a silent prayer for the future. The physical labor was grounding, a reminder that, despite the uncertainty that lay ahead, there was always work to be done, always hope to be found in the rhythm of the vineyard.

As the day waned and the time of Cody's arrival drew near, Obi-Wan took a moment to stand once again at the overlook, watching as the setting sun painted the sky in shades of fire and gold. The beauty of the moment was a poignant reminder of the vineyard's potential, its capacity for renewal and growth.

"This is your moment, Kenobi," he whispered to himself, the words a vow to the land, to his family, and to his own weary heart. "It's time to show them what we're made of."

With the shadows lengthening and the first stars beginning to twinkle in the evening sky, Obi-Wan turned and made his way back to the house to greet his guest. The fate of Kenobi Vineyards hung in the balance, but for the first time in a long while, Obi-Wan felt a flicker of hope, a spark that suggested that perhaps, just perhaps, the best chapters of their story were yet to be written.

**** 

The tranquility of Kenobi Vineyards was abruptly punctuated by the sound of an approaching vehicle, its engine's growl a stark contrast to the peaceful chirps and whispers of the countryside. A sleek, modern car wound its way along the vineyard's access road, dust billowing in its wake like a herald announcing the arrival of something—or someone—significant. The car's metallic surface glittered under the fading sunlight, a beacon of the outside world intruding upon the timeless beauty of the vineyard.

Obi-Wan, standing near the main house, watched the car's approach with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. The arrival of Cody was like the first drop of rain before a storm, charged with the potential to either nourish the land or ravage it completely. Obi-Wan's heart beat a tense rhythm, echoing the uneven pace of his thoughts. He was acutely aware that the fate of Kenobi Vineyards rested on the impression it would make on this one man.

As the car came to a halt, the door opened, and Cody stepped out. He was every bit the figure Obi-Wan had imagined: tall, with an authoritative presence that seemed to command the space around him. His eyes, sharp and discerning, took in the surroundings with a critical gaze that missed nothing. The setting sun cast long shadows that played across his features, giving him an aura of mystery and power.

For a moment, Obi-Wan felt as if the vineyard itself held its breath, the very air charged with tension. He stepped forward, extending a hand in greeting. "Cody, welcome to Kenobi Vineyards," he said, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside him.

Cody's handshake was firm, his grip conveying a confidence that Obi-Wan both envied and admired. "Mr. Kenobi," Cody acknowledged, his voice carrying a hint of curiosity. "I've heard much about your vineyard. I'm eager to see if it lives up to its reputation."

As they walked toward the main house, Obi-Wan felt Cody's gaze sweeping over the vineyard, missing none of the beauty nor the disrepair. Obi-Wan found himself wondering what Cody saw when he looked at the vineyard. Did he see a lost cause, or could he perceive the potential that Obi-Wan believed in so fiercely?

The silence between them was filled with unspoken questions and judgments. Obi-Wan led Cody to a small patio overlooking the vineyard, where the last light of day gave the vines a soft, ethereal glow. He gestured for Cody to take a seat, while he fetched a bottle of their best vintage.

Pouring the wine with hands that betrayed none of his inner nervousness, Obi-Wan offered Cody a glass. "This is one of our finest vintages," he said, his voice infused with a pride that came from years of dedication. "I hope it speaks for itself."

Cody accepted the glass, his expression inscrutable as he swirled the wine, observing its color against the backdrop of the setting sun. He took a sip, closing his eyes briefly as if to fully concentrate on the flavors. Obi-Wan watched him, searching for any sign of approval or disapproval.

Finally, Cody opened his eyes, and Obi-Wan felt as if the entire vineyard waited on his verdict. "There's a complexity here... a depth that I didn't expect," Cody admitted, his voice thoughtful. "It's evident that care went into its making."

The words felt like a reprieve to Obi-Wan, a small crack in the storm clouds that had gathered over Kenobi Vineyards. He allowed himself a cautious optimism, aware that this was only the beginning of what he hoped would be a turning point for the vineyard.

As the evening wore on, the conversation between Obi-Wan and Cody delved deeper into the intricacies of wine making, the challenges of maintaining a vineyard, and the vision Obi-Wan held for the future. With each shared bottle and story, the initial tension began to dissipate, replaced by a budding respect and understanding.

Obi-Wan realized that Cody, despite his formidable reputation, was driven by a genuine passion for wine and its creation. And Cody, in turn, seemed to recognize the dedication and love Obi-Wan had for Kenobi Vineyards. The evening, which had begun with the weight of judgment, slowly transformed into an exchange between two men who, despite their different paths, shared a common reverence for the art of wine.

As Cody left, promising to return the next day for a full tour, Obi-Wan felt a cautious hope blooming in his chest. The visit had not been the immediate salvation he had dreamt of, but it had opened a door, a possibility for change and renewal. Standing alone under the starlit sky, Obi-Wan allowed himself to believe that Kenobi Vineyards might yet find its way back to life, guided by hands both old and new.

***** 

The morning sun bathed Kenobi Vineyards in a warm, golden light, promising a day of revelations and perhaps, redemption. Obi-Wan Kenobi and Cody embarked on the tour of the vineyard, the air between them filled with an electric mix of anticipation and underlying skepticism.

Obi-Wan led the way, his stride purposeful yet weighed down by the gravity of what was at stake. Cody followed, his eyes sharp and assessing, missing none of the vineyard's flaws nor its hidden gems. The beauty of the morning could not fully mask the signs of neglect that had crept over the land, like ivy over an abandoned ruin.

"As you can see, the vineyard has seen better days," Obi-Wan began, his voice carrying a hint of resignation. "But beneath the overgrowth and decay, there's a legacy of quality and dedication to the craft of winemaking."

Cody's gaze lingered on a section of vineyard where the vines were particularly overgrown. "I can see the potential," he admitted, though his tone remained noncommittal. "But potential alone doesn't produce quality wine. It takes skill, dedication, and considerable investment."

Obi-Wan nodded, the weight of Cody's words settling heavily upon him. "Of course, you're right. Let me show you something that might give you a better understanding of what we're capable of here." He led Cody to an older section of the vineyard, where the vines seemed to stand a bit taller, their leaves a deeper shade of green.

"These vines were planted by my great-grandfather," Obi-Wan explained, his hand brushing against the rough bark of the nearest vine. "They're some of the oldest on the property, and they produce our most distinctive grapes. The wine they yield..." He paused, searching for the right words. "It's not just a drink. It's a piece of history, a testament to the love and care that my family has poured into this land for generations."

Cody listened, his expression softening slightly. It was clear that Obi-Wan's words had struck a chord, reminding him that wine was more than a commodity—it was a story, a legacy that connected the past to the present.

As they continued the tour, Obi-Wan shared more about the unique aspects of their wine-making process, from the careful selection of grapes to the traditional methods they still employed in fermentation and aging. With each detail, he wove a narrative of dedication and passion, a narrative that seemed to slowly chip away at Cody's initial skepticism.

At one point, Obi-Wan paused beside a small, seemingly insignificant tool shed. "This," he said, unlocking the door, "is where some of our most important work happens." Inside, the shed was filled with an array of barrels, each marked with dates and notes in a meticulous hand.

"These barrels contain experimental blends, my attempts to capture the essence of Kenobi Vineyards in a bottle. Some of them are failures, but others..." He trailed off, selecting a bottle from a nearby shelf. "This one, for example, is something I'm particularly proud of. It's not perfect, but it represents a step toward the future I envision for this vineyard."

Cody watched as Obi-Wan carefully opened the bottle and poured a small amount into two glasses. The act was a gesture of vulnerability, an offering of hope and a request for understanding.

Tasting the wine, Cody's expression was inscrutable for a moment before he nodded slowly. "This is good," he conceded, and Obi-Wan could hear the genuine surprise in his voice. "It's bold, innovative even. It speaks to a level of creativity and risk-taking that's commendable."

The acknowledgment was a balm to Obi-Wan's anxious heart. For the first time since Cody's arrival, he allowed himself to believe that the vineyard's story might not end in decline and obscurity.

As they made their way back to the main house, the atmosphere between them had shifted. The skepticism and desperation that had marked the start of the tour had given way to a cautious optimism. There was a sense of shared understanding, a recognition that beneath the vineyard's disrepair lay a foundation of strength and potential.

"This place," Cody said, pausing to look over the expanse of vines basking in the sunlight, "it has character. And your wine..." He glanced at Obi-Wan, a newfound respect in his gaze. "It has soul. That's something you can't manufacture. It's born from the land and the hands that tend it."

Obi-Wan met Cody's gaze, feeling a surge of pride and determination. "Thank you," he replied, the words a simple but profound acknowledgment of the journey ahead. "With the right care and effort, I believe we can restore Kenobi Vineyards to its former glory, and perhaps, even surpass it."

In the cool, dimly lit interior of the fermentation room, the air was thick with the scent of aging wine and oak. It was here, surrounded by the tangible results of his family’s legacy, that Obi-Wan chose to share the depth of his connection to winemaking and the vineyard itself. The walls, lined with barrels, seemed to listen, silent witnesses to this moment of raw honesty.

Obi-Wan ran his hand along the grain of a nearby barrel, his touch gentle, almost reverent. "Each of these barrels," he began, his voice echoing slightly in the quiet space, "contains more than just wine. They hold stories, years of struggle, moments of triumph, and, yes, even times of failure."

Cody, leaning against a sturdy, aged workbench, watched Obi-Wan closely, sensing the shift in the air, the way the room seemed to close in, focusing all attention on the man before him.

"My passion for winemaking," Obi-Wan continued, pausing to select a bottle from a nearby rack, "isn't just about the craft itself. It's about what it represents—continuity, the passing of knowledge from one generation to the next, the bond between the land and our family." He uncorked the bottle with practiced ease, pouring the rich, dark liquid into two glasses. "But I fear," he admitted, handing a glass to Cody, "that I might be the end of that line."

The admission hung in the air between them, a confession of vulnerability that Obi-Wan rarely allowed himself to show. Cody accepted the glass, his gaze now softened, understanding the weight of Obi-Wan's words.

"Why do you fear that?" Cody asked, the question voiced with genuine curiosity and a hint of concern.

Obi-Wan took a sip of his wine, the action giving him a moment to gather his thoughts. "Because despite my efforts, I can't seem to overcome the challenges we face. The market is changing, and our vineyard... we're struggling to keep up. I worry that I won't be able to preserve this legacy, that I'll be the one under whose watch it all falls apart."

Cody listened, his expression thoughtful, the earlier skepticism replaced by a dawning comprehension of the personal stakes involved for Obi-Wan. "But you're fighting," Cody observed, "not just for the survival of the vineyard, but for something much more personal."

"Yes," Obi-Wan acknowledged, the word laced with a mixture of determination and resignation. "This vineyard is a part of me. To see it fail would be like losing a part of myself. But it's more than that. It's about honoring those who came before me, not letting their hard work and sacrifices be in vain."

The room seemed to close in around them, the air charged with the weight of Obi-Wan's fears and the intensity of his passion. Cody, moved by the depth of Obi-Wan's commitment, found himself reevaluating his initial impressions of both the man and the vineyard.

"Obi-Wan," Cody said, his voice firm, yet imbued with an unexpected warmth, "your dedication is clear, and the quality of your wine speaks for itself. The challenges you face are significant, yes, but not insurmountable."

Obi-Wan met Cody's gaze, searching for a hint of the skepticism that had marked their initial meeting. Instead, he found understanding and, perhaps, a glimmer of respect.

"Thank you, Cody," Obi-Wan replied, the tension that had coiled within him beginning to unwind. "Hearing that from someone with your expertise... it means more than you might realize."

As the day waned, casting long shadows across the vineyard, Obi-Wan and Cody found themselves seated on the worn stone bench beside the old water feature, now silent, its once cheerful babble reduced to a mere memory. The air was filled with the gentle rustle of leaves, a natural symphony that seemed to underscore the significance of their conversation.

Obi-Wan, with a slight hesitation born from years of guarding his private thoughts, began to share more of his past, the journey that had led him to this moment. "I wasn't always sure that this path was mine to walk," he admitted, his gaze fixed on the vineyard sprawling before them, bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. "There was a time when the world seemed wide open with possibilities. I dreamed of exploring, of finding my own way. But when my father passed, the reality of what this land represents... it called me back. It's a legacy of not just land and wine, but of love and resilience. How could I turn my back on that?"

Cody listened intently, his own glass of wine forgotten in his hand. There was a depth to Obi-Wan's words, a sincerity that resonated with something deep within him. "I understand the weight of legacy," Cody responded, his voice softer than before. "I come from a military family. The expectation was always clear: serve with honor, uphold the family tradition. But I found my battleground in the world of wine, a different kind of challenge, yet one that's no less demanding."

Their eyes met, an unspoken acknowledgment passing between them. Here, in the quiet of the vineyard, their disparate paths had converged, revealing common ground in the pursuit of passion and the weight of expectations.

"The world of wine... it's more than a career for you, isn't it?" Obi-Wan asked, genuinely curious about the man who had, in a short time, become both a critic and an unexpected confidante.

Cody chuckled, a sound that seemed to carry with it layers of unspoken stories. "Yes, it's more. It's a quest, almost. A quest for perfection, for understanding. Each bottle tells a story, and I suppose I've become a collector of stories. But," he paused, a shadow crossing his expression, "it can be a solitary journey. The pursuit of perfection often comes at the cost of personal connections."

The confession hung between them, a shared vulnerability that bridged the gap of their previous professional distance. Obi-Wan felt a surge of empathy for Cody, recognizing the parallel loneliness in their pursuits.

"It seems we're both prisoners of our passions," Obi-Wan observed, his voice tinged with a newfound warmth. "But perhaps, in acknowledging that, we find a kind of freedom."

Cody nodded, the last rays of sunlight illuminating his features, casting them in a soft, almost ethereal light. "Perhaps you're right. And maybe, in sharing our stories, we lighten that load, even if just for a moment."

The conversation drifted then, from dreams to disappointments, from the wines they had loved to the ones that had eluded them. Each story, each shared piece of their past, wove a tapestry of understanding and respect between them. The vineyard, with its ancient vines and whispered secrets, served as the perfect backdrop for this exchange, a reminder that growth and renewal were possible, even from the deepest roots.

As the evening drew to a close, the stars began to twinkle in the velvet sky, a silent audience to the unfolding bond between two unlikely companions. The vineyard lay around them, a testament to the enduring power of land and legacy, but in that moment, it was the human connection, fragile and newly formed, that held the promise of the future.

As twilight deepened, casting a lavender hue over the sprawling expanse of Kenobi Vineyards, Obi-Wan and Cody found themselves ascending a gentle hill that offered a panoramic view of the land. The world around them was bathed in the soft afterglow of sunset, the vineyard below a quilt of shadows and fading light. Obi-Wan carried with him a bottle of the vineyard's oldest wine, its label worn but the contents within preserved, a liquid testament to the vineyard's storied past.

Reaching the summit, they paused, both men taking a moment to absorb the breathtaking vista that lay before them. The air was cool, carrying the scent of earth and growing things, the very essence of the vineyard itself. Obi-Wan uncorked the bottle with a practiced ease, the sound a soft pop in the quiet of the evening.

"This," Obi-Wan said, handing Cody a glass filled with the deep, ruby-red wine, "represents the best of what we've been. It's a bridge between the past and the future we're striving towards." His voice carried a reverence, a deep appreciation for the legacy he was part of.

Cody accepted the glass, his eyes reflecting the last rays of the setting sun. "To bridges," he toasted, the words an acknowledgment of the day's revelations and the unexpected connection that had formed between them.

As they sipped the wine, the silence that fell between them was comfortable, filled with the unspoken understanding that had grown throughout the day. The wine was exceptional, its flavors complex and layered, a testament to the skill and care that had gone into its making.

It was Cody who broke the silence, his voice thoughtful. "I've spent so much time chasing the perfect story, the perfect bottle of wine, that I've often overlooked the stories unfolding right in front of me." He paused, a wistful note in his voice. "There are friendships I've neglected, moments I've missed. It's easy to forget that the pursuit of perfection shouldn't come at the expense of living."

Obi-Wan listened, the honesty of Cody's confession striking a chord within him. "I understand," he replied, his own voice tinged with regret. "I've been so consumed with saving this vineyard, proving myself worthy of my heritage, that I've isolated myself. I've forgotten what it's like to share this passion with someone who understands."

The admission hung in the air, a shared recognition of the personal costs of their dedication. But in that recognition, there was also a sense of relief, a lightening of burdens long carried alone.

Laughter soon followed, sparked by a humorous anecdote from Cody about a particularly disastrous wine tasting event. Obi-Wan joined in, the sound mingling with the night air, a release of tension and the joy of newfound camaraderie. They shared stories of their failures and triumphs, the absurdities and the moments of grace that marked their journeys in the world of wine.

As the evening wore on, the wine flowed freely, loosening tongues and opening hearts. The stars above seemed to draw nearer, witnesses to the deepening bond between two souls brought together by fate and a shared love for the vineyard's bounty.

Sitting on that hill, overlooking the land that was so much a part of Obi-Wan, he felt a shift within himself. The vineyard was no longer just a burden to be shouldered alone; it was a legacy to be shared, a source of connection and hope.

Cody, too, seemed transformed by the experience, his earlier skepticism replaced by a genuine respect and affection for the vineyard and the man who fought so valiantly to preserve it. In the shared laughter and confessions of regret, they found not just understanding but a sense of belonging, a recognition that their paths, however different, were intertwined in the story of Kenobi Vineyards.

As the bottle emptied and the night deepened, they remained on the hill, reluctant to end the moment. The vineyard lay quiet below, a testament to the enduring power of the land and the human spirit. And for Obi-Wan and Cody, the future seemed a little brighter, the weight of their respective burdens a little lighter, shared over a bottle of wine under the vast, starlit sky.

**** 

A few days after their momentous evening on the hill, the atmosphere at Kenobi Vineyards was charged with a new energy. The sun had just begun its ascent, casting a soft, golden light over the vineyard, promising another day of renewal and hard work. Obi-Wan was in the midst of inspecting the vines, lost in thought, when Cody approached him. The crisp morning air seemed to accentuate the seriousness of Cody's demeanor, a stark contrast to the relaxed camaraderie they had shared just nights before.

"Obi-Wan," Cody began, his voice cutting through the tranquility of the morning, "I've been thinking about your vineyard, about the conversation we had the other night, about legacy and passion."

Obi-Wan straightened, turning to face him, an intuitive sense of the conversation's direction taking root within him. "Yes?" he prompted, curiosity laced with a hint of apprehension coloring his tone.

Cody took a moment, surveying the vineyard with a contemplative gaze. "I believe there's something unique here, something worth preserving. But to convince others, to truly make them see the value of Kenobi Vineyards, you'll need to do more than just maintain the status quo."

The morning's serenity seemed to hang in balance as Cody's words sank in. Obi-Wan felt a mixture of excitement and trepidation stir within him. "What do you suggest?" he asked, his interest piqued.

Cody's expression was earnest, his conviction clear. "Create a new blend," he said, the challenge implicit in his words. "Something that encapsulates the essence of this place, a wine that tells the story of Kenobi Vineyards, its past, its present, and its future."

The proposal hung between them, bold and daunting. Obi-Wan felt the weight of the challenge settle upon him, a mingling of fear and exhilaration. "That's a tall order," he admitted, the magnitude of the task not lost on him. "But if it could help save the vineyard..."

Cody nodded, a supportive firmness in his gaze. "I believe it could do more than just help. It could redefine how the world sees Kenobi Vineyards. And I'll do everything in my power to support you, to ensure this blend gets the recognition it deserves."

The promise was generous, a lifeline thrown in the midst of uncertainty. Obi-Wan felt a surge of gratitude, tempered by the enormity of the task ahead. "It won't be easy," he said, a determined glint in his eye. "But I accept your challenge. For the vineyard, for my family's legacy, I'll create something truly special."

As Cody smiled, an unspoken agreement solidified between them. This was more than just a challenge; it was an opportunity for Obi-Wan to distill the essence of his heritage into a bottle, to craft a narrative as rich and complex as the wines he so lovingly produced.

In the days that followed, Obi-Wan threw himself into the creation of the new blend with a fervor that bordered on obsession. He experimented with different grape varietals, each selection a careful consideration of flavor profiles and historical significance. The process was exhaustive, a testament to Obi-Wan's dedication and Cody's unwavering support.

Cody, for his part, was a constant presence, offering insights, encouragement, and the occasional much-needed distraction. Together, they tasted and tested, debated and deliberated, their shared goal driving them forward.

The creation of the blend became a journey of discovery, not just of the perfect combination of flavors but of themselves. Obi-Wan, in seeking to capture the essence of the vineyard, found a deeper connection to his roots, a renewed sense of purpose. Cody, witnessing Obi-Wan's passion and dedication, gained a profound respect for the art of winemaking and the stories it could tell.

The process was not without its moments of doubt and frustration. There were blends that fell short, promising starts that ended in disappointment. But with each setback, their resolve only strengthened, their bond deepened by the shared pursuit of excellence.

When the final blend was poured, a harmonious union of the vineyard's finest grapes, it was more than just a wine; it was a tribute to Kenobi Vineyards' legacy, a symbol of hope for its future. The wine was complex, embodying the rich history of the land, the resilience of its people, and the promise of renewal.

As they stood together, tasting the fruits of their labor, Obi-Wan and Cody knew that they had created something extraordinary. The blend was not just a testament to their hard work but a declaration of the vineyard's enduring spirit.

Cody's promise to use his influence loomed large, a beacon of hope in the quest to secure the vineyard's legacy. Together, they had taken the first steps toward salvation, guided by passion, perseverance, and the unbreakable bonds forged in the heart of Kenobi Vineyards.

*** 

The journey to create Kenobi Vineyards' new signature blend unfolded like a tapestry woven from threads of tension, triumph, and the deepening bond between Obi-Wan and Cody. Each day brought with it a new set of challenges, moments of discord and harmony that mirrored the complexity of the wine they sought to create.

In the early days, the vineyard buzzed with a palpable energy, as Obi-Wan and Cody embarked on their shared mission. Mornings were spent in the fields, where Obi-Wan shared his intimate knowledge of each vine, each parcel of land. Cody, with his keen analytical mind, asked probing questions, pushing Obi-Wan to consider variables he had previously overlooked. These discussions often stretched into spirited debates, their contrasting perspectives clashing and melding in equal measure.

The afternoons were reserved for the alchemy of winemaking. The winery's lab became their sanctuary, a place where science and artistry intertwined. Obi-Wan, with his deep-rooted connection to the vineyard's traditions, introduced Cody to the nuances of fermentation and aging processes that had been passed down through generations. Cody, in turn, brought a fresh perspective, suggesting innovative techniques and blending strategies that challenged Obi-Wan's conventional wisdom.

This exchange of ideas was not without its moments of frustration. There were times when Obi-Wan's attachment to tradition seemed to stifle innovation, leading to heated exchanges that echoed off the stone walls of the winery. Cody's insistence on experimentation, while well-intentioned, sometimes felt like a disregard for the vineyard's heritage. These tensions, though, were the crucible in which their partnership was forged. With each disagreement, they learned to navigate their differences, finding common ground in their shared commitment to excellence.

The breakthrough came unexpectedly, on a late afternoon tinged with the golden hues of the setting sun. A particular blend, born from a combination of intuition and meticulous calculation, revealed itself to be more than just a sum of its parts. As they tasted, the layers of flavor unfolding on their palates, Obi-Wan and Cody shared a look of quiet amazement. Here, in this glass, was the essence of Kenobi Vineyards—its past, present, and future—captured in liquid form.

The moment was transformative, a turning point that solidified their partnership. Laughter and shared stories began to fill the spaces between their work, the vineyard echoing with the signs of their camaraderie. They celebrated their victories, no matter how small, with toasts of their evolving blend, each sip a reminder of the journey they had undertaken together.

As the blend matured, so too did their relationship. The mutual respect that had been forged in the fires of creativity and conflict deepened into a genuine friendship. Obi-Wan, once wary of change, found himself inspired by Cody's passion and insight. Cody, initially skeptical of the vineyard's potential, grew to admire Obi-Wan's dedication and the rich history of the land.

The montage of their efforts, a series of snapshots capturing late nights, early mornings, and endless tastings, was a testament to their journey. The tension that had once marked their interactions gave way to a rhythm, a seamless dance of give and take that propelled them toward their goal.

When the final blend was ready, it was more than just a new product for Kenobi Vineyards. It was a symbol of transformation—a testament to the power of collaboration, the blending of tradition with innovation, and the unexpected friendship that had flourished in the pursuit of a shared dream.

In the end, the creation of the blend was not just a triumph for Kenobi Vineyards but a milestone in the lives of Obi-Wan and Cody. Together, they had crafted something extraordinary, a wine that was a reflection of their journey, imbued with the essence of the land and the unbreakable bond they had formed.

**** 

The day of Cody's departure arrived with a quiet that seemed to envelop Kenobi Vineyards, a stillness that belied the turmoil of emotions churning within Obi-Wan. As they stood facing each other, the vineyard stretching out behind them, a landscape of memories and shared efforts, the air was thick with unspoken words and the poignant realization of a chapter closing.

"I'll start on the review as soon as I get back," Cody said, his voice steady but not without a hint of the reluctance that comes with parting. His gaze lingered on Obi-Wan, as if trying to imprint the moment, the man, and the land that had unexpectedly become a significant part of his life.

Obi-Wan nodded, his throat tight with a mix of gratitude and apprehension. "Thank you, Cody. For everything," he managed to say, the words heavy with the weight of all they had shared. "Your belief in this vineyard, in me, has changed more than I can express."

A brief smile flickered across Cody's face, a silent acknowledgment of the journey they had undertaken together. "It's been an honor, Obi-Wan. This place, your wine... it's something special. I'm just glad I got to be a part of it."

As Cody turned to leave, Obi-Wan felt a keen sense of loss, a void that went beyond the professional relationship they had developed. The realization that Cody's presence had become a cornerstone of not just the vineyard's revival but of his own personal growth was stark and unbidden.

In the days that followed, the vineyard seemed quieter, the absence of Cody's steady presence a constant reminder of the void. Obi-Wan threw himself into his work, each task a distraction from the uncertainty that loomed ahead. Yet, in the quiet moments, his mind wandered to Cody, to their conversations, the laughter, and the moments of shared vulnerability.

The waiting period stretched out, each day a test of patience and hope. Obi-Wan found himself reflecting on the depth of his feelings for Cody, feelings that had evolved from professional respect to a profound connection. The realization was startling, the acknowledgment of a bond that went beyond the vineyard, touching something deep within him.

Obi-Wan's introspection was not solely focused on Cody; it also turned inward, examining the changes within himself. The experience of creating the blend, of fighting for the vineyard's future alongside Cody, had reignited a passion he hadn't realized had dimmed. Cody had not only helped to save the vineyard but had also, in a way, saved him from the isolation and burden of his legacy.

The vineyard, too, seemed to be waiting, the vines standing tall and the leaves whispering in the wind, as if in anticipation of what was to come. It was a time of transition, of endings and new beginnings, and Obi-Wan felt the weight of it all, a blend of hope and fear for the future.

When the review finally arrived, it was with a mixture of excitement and dread that Obi-Wan opened it. Cody's words leapt off the page, a testament to their efforts, praising not only the quality of the wine but the spirit and passion behind its creation. It was more than Obi-Wan had dared to hope for, a recognition of the vineyard's potential and of their journey together.

As he stood in the vineyard, the review in hand, Obi-Wan felt a sense of peace settle over him. The future was still uncertain, the challenges ahead daunting, but in that moment, there was a sense of completion, of a circle closed. Cody's departure had left a void, but it had also left Obi-Wan with a deeper understanding of himself, of his capacity for connection and change.

The vineyard thrived, bolstered by the success of the new blend and the acclaim it received. And as Obi-Wan walked among the vines, he knew that Cody's influence would linger, a part of the land and of him, a reminder of the power of collaboration, friendship, and the courage to embrace the unknown.

**** 

Several weeks had passed since Cody's review had been published, casting a newfound spotlight on Kenobi Vineyards and its exceptional new blend. The vineyard, once teetering on the edge of obscurity, now buzzed with the energy of potential and promise. In this time of burgeoning hope, Obi-Wan found himself often wandering the vineyard at dusk, his thoughts invariably drifting to Cody. The impact of Cody's words had been profound, not just on the vineyard but on Obi-Wan himself, stirring a blend of emotions and unanswered questions that lingered like the fragrance of grapes on the evening air.

It was on one such evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in strokes of pink and gold, that Cody returned. Obi-Wan, lost in thought among the vines, didn't notice his approach until he was nearly upon him. The sight of Cody, back in the vineyard, sent a jolt through him, a mix of surprise and an inexplicable sense of rightness.

"Cody," Obi-Wan began, his voice betraying his surprise. "What brings you back to Kenobi Vineyards?"

Cody's gaze held a depth of emotion that Obi-Wan hadn't seen before. "I came to see you," he said, his voice steady but imbued with an undercurrent of something more, something deeper. "Your vineyard, the wine we created, your passion... it left an impression on me, one I couldn't shake."

The confession hung between them, a tangible presence in the twilight. Obi-Wan felt a stirring within him, a hopeful blossoming at Cody's words, yet he remained silent, prompting Cody to continue.

"In writing the review, in trying to capture the essence of what you've built here, I realized something," Cody said, taking a step closer. "It wasn't just the vineyard that inspired me. It was you, Obi-Wan. Your dedication, your belief in the legacy of this place... it changed me."

The admission was like the turning of a key, unlocking something within Obi-Wan that he had dared not acknowledge even to himself. The realization of Cody's feelings, mirrored against his own, was overwhelming and yet, undeniably right.

"Cody, I—" Obi-Wan started, his own emotions surfacing, raw and unguarded.

Cody reached out, a gesture of connection that bridged the distance between them. "I don't know what the future holds," he said, his voice laced with earnestness. "But I do know that I don't want to face it without you. These past weeks, being away, it made me realize how much I've come to care for you, beyond the vineyard, beyond the wine."

The confession, so openly and honestly delivered, resonated with Obi-Wan, echoing his own unspoken feelings. The vineyard around them, with its vines and soil, had been a witness to their growing connection, a foundation upon which something deeper had been built.

"Cody, your presence here, your belief in me, in the vineyard... it's given me more than just hope for this place," Obi-Wan said, his voice imbued with a mixture of vulnerability and strength. "It's given me hope for something more, something I hadn't allowed myself to consider."

As they stood there, in the fading light, the vineyard seemed to hold its breath, a silent observer to the unfolding moment. The confession of their feelings, the acknowledgment of the bond that had formed between them, was a new beginning, a promise of possibilities yet to be explored.

Cody smiled, a genuine expression that lit up his features, dispelling the shadows of the evening. "Then let's face the future together," he said, his hand still extended, an invitation for Obi-Wan to take.

Obi-Wan reached out, his hand clasping Cody's, a physical manifestation of their emotional connection. In that touch, there was an understanding, a commitment to whatever lay ahead, forged in the heart of Kenobi Vineyards but transcending it, a blend of two souls united by passion, dedication, and now, love.

The vineyard, with its endless rows of vines and the promise of growth and renewal, stood as a testament to their journey. It was a reminder that even the most unlikely of soils could nurture something extraordinary, something lasting. Together, Obi-Wan and Cody stepped into the future, their path illuminated by the stars above, hearts full of hope and the vineyard whispering its blessings on the wind.

**** 

In the weeks following Cody's return and his heartfelt confession, Kenobi Vineyards began to flourish in a way that it hadn't for years. The impact of Cody's review, coupled with the unveiling of their collaborative wine blend, had drawn attention from far and wide. Wine enthusiasts, critics, and curious locals alike flocked to the vineyard, eager to taste the wine that had captured the heart of one of the industry's most respected figures.

Obi-Wan and Cody, now united in both their personal and professional lives, watched this transformation with a sense of awe and gratitude. The vineyard, which had once been a symbol of struggle and isolation for Obi-Wan, had become a bustling hub of activity and growth. The once quiet tasting room was now filled with the sounds of laughter and conversation, the air rich with the scent of wine being poured and enjoyed.

As they walked through the vineyard one crisp morning, the dew still fresh on the vines, Obi-Wan couldn't help but reflect on the journey that had brought them to this point. "I never imagined," he began, his voice filled with wonder, "that the vineyard could come back to life like this. It feels like we've created something new, something vibrant out of the ashes of the past."

Cody, walking beside him, squeezed Obi-Wan's hand gently. "We did," he agreed, his gaze sweeping over the rows of thriving vines. "But it's more than just the vineyard that's been reborn. We've started a new chapter, too, one that's just beginning."

The significance of Cody's words resonated deeply with Obi-Wan. The vineyard's revival was indeed a powerful metaphor for their own blossoming relationship. Each new bud on the vines, each bottle of wine that found its way into the hands of an appreciative drinker, mirrored the growth and deepening of their bond.

Their days were filled with a blend of hard work and moments of shared joy. They consulted on every decision, from the nuances of vine care to the development of new wine varieties, each step forward a testament to their combined strengths and visions. The success of the vineyard had become inseparable from the story of their partnership, a tangible representation of what they could achieve together.

The community around them took notice, drawn not only by the quality of the wine but by the story of renewal and love that had come to define Kenobi Vineyards. Obi-Wan and Cody found themselves at the center of a network of friends and supporters, their lives enriched by the connections that grew from the soil of the vineyard.

In the evenings, after the day's work was done and the last visitor had departed, they would often find themselves back on the hill overlooking the vineyard. With a bottle of their blend between them, they watched the sunset, the sky ablaze with colors that mirrored the hues of their wines.

"These moments," Cody would say, his voice soft with contentment, "they're a reminder of what's truly important. Not just the wine or the vineyard, but us, this life we're building together."

Obi-Wan, leaning into Cody's side, felt a profound sense of peace in these moments. The challenges and uncertainties of the future seemed manageable, as long as they faced them together. The vineyard, thriving under their care, was more than just a place of business; it was a home, a symbol of their love and partnership.

As the stars began to twinkle in the twilight sky, Obi-Wan and Cody knew that they had found something rare and beautiful. Kenobi Vineyards, with its rows of vines and bottles filled with the essence of the land, was a testament to their journey. It stood as a beacon of hope, resilience, and the power of love to transform the hardest of soils into a place of abundance and life.

Together, they faced the future with open hearts, ready to embrace whatever challenges and joys it might bring. Kenobi Vineyards, once on the brink of fading away, was now a symbol of their shared future, flourishing and alive with possibility.

Likes and comments are always welcome.

[star-wars-writing]

A coastal proposal

A/N: Hey everyone! Excited to share my latest piece for the@codywanbingo, focusing on 'Proposal' and 'Vacation.' Consider this a sequel to 'Beyond the Script,' where I've blended the prompts into a story I hope you'll love. Dive in and let me know your thoughts!

The first kiss of the Mediterranean sun greeted Obi-Wan Kenobi and Cody Fett as they stepped onto the sun-drenched cobblestones of Amalfi. The air, fragrant with the scent of the sea and blossoming lemons, enveloped them in a tender embrace, whispering of ancient tales and modern romances intertwined along the coastline.

Obi-Wan, his eyes reflecting the cerulean hues of the sea, stood for a moment, absorbing the vista before them. The Amalfi Coast, a symphony of colors, lay sprawled in its timeless glory - the azure of the sky melting seamlessly into the sea, the pastel shades of the buildings clinging to the cliffs like a painter's dream.

Cody, standing a step behind, watched Obi-Wan with a fond, almost reverent gaze. There was something about the way the sunlight played with Obi-Wan's hair, casting a halo around him, that made Cody's heart swell with an emotion too profound for words. He saw the tension, always lurking in Obi-Wan's shoulders from the constant scrutiny of Hollywood, melt away under the Italian sun.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Obi-Wan murmured, his voice a soft echo of the gentle waves below.

"It's incredible," Cody agreed, his voice carrying a note of awe, not just for the scenery but for the man beside him, who seemed to belong in this picturesque setting, a timeless figure amidst the beauty.

As they walked through the narrow streets, their hands found each other, fingers intertwining naturally, a silent testament to their shared journey. The locals, accustomed to tourists, paid them little mind, allowing them a privacy that was a rare luxury in their usual life. Obi-Wan's fame, which often preceded him, seemed to dissolve in the Italian air, leaving behind just Obi-Wan the man, not the actor.

They stopped at a small café, nestled between a quaint bookstore and a vibrant flower shop. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baked pastries wafted through the air, inviting them in. As they settled at a corner table, the café owner greeted them with a warm, toothy smile, her eyes crinkling in a way that reminded Cody of his grandmother.

Obi-Wan ordered in fluent Italian, his accent perfect to Cody's untrained ear. The owner's face lit up at his words, and she chatted animatedly, gesturing towards the pastries with pride. Obi-Wan listened, nodding and smiling, completely at ease. Cody watched this exchange, a feeling of contentment settling over him. Here, Obi-Wan wasn't a star; he was just another traveler, another soul enchanted by the magic of Italy.

As they sipped their coffee, their conversation flowed effortlessly. They spoke of trivial things – the quaintness of the café, the book titles in the shop next door, the vibrancy of the flowers on the streets. But underlying each word, each laugh, was a deeper current of connection, a profound understanding of each other that went beyond the spoken language.

Cody watched as a group of tourists passed by their window, their faces alight with the joy of discovery. He turned back to Obi-Wan, his eyes lingering on the curve of his smile, the gentle crinkles around his eyes. In that moment, with the Italian sun casting a golden glow around them, Cody knew this was where they were meant to be. Not just physically in this charming café in Amalfi, but together, side by side, facing whatever the future held.

And as Obi-Wan caught his gaze, a silent communication passed between them, a promise of this moment and many more to come, each one a thread in the tapestry of their life together. In the heart of Amalfi, they were just two souls, bound by love, surrounded by beauty, and embarking on a journey that was their own.

*** 

As the afternoon sun began its descent, casting a softer light over the Amalfi Coast, Obi-Wan and Cody left the café, stepping back into the narrow, winding streets that seemed to pulse with the life of Italy itself. Around them, the town thrummed with the harmonious chaos of everyday life – locals exchanging greetings, laughter spilling from open windows, scooters zipping through the streets, their engines a humming backdrop to the coastal symphony.

Walking side by side, they made their way towards the seafront, drawn by the siren call of the Tyrrhenian Sea. The path wound down towards the water, flanked by buildings awash in sun-faded yellows, pinks, and oranges, their shutters thrown open to embrace the sea breeze. Flower boxes overflowed with vibrant blooms, their colors a vivid contrast against the pastel walls.

As they reached the promenade, Obi-Wan paused, leaning against the balustrade, his eyes fixed on the horizon where the sea and sky merged in a dance of blues. The sea, a canvas of ever-changing hues, reflected the shifting light of the sky, its surface dotted with the white sails of distant boats.

Cody stood beside him, observing Obi-Wan's profile against the backdrop of the sea. He noticed the subtle relaxation in Obi-Wan's posture, the ease in his expression. It was as if the sea had the power to wash away the residue of their life in Los Angeles, leaving behind something raw and real.

"It never ceases to amaze me," Obi-Wan said quietly, his voice tinged with a hint of wonder. "The way the sea can be both tumultuous and tranquil, all at once."

Cody nodded, his gaze still on Obi-Wan. "Much like life, I suppose. Full of ups and downs, but beautiful in its entirety."

Obi-Wan turned to look at Cody, a soft smile playing on his lips. "I couldn't have put it better myself," he said. His eyes, mirroring the depth of the sea, held a warmth that spoke volumes. There was a comfort in this shared silence, a language they had come to understand and cherish.

As they resumed their walk along the promenade, their conversation ebbed and flowed like the gentle waves lapping at the shore. They spoke of the future, of dreams yet to be realized, and adventures yet to be embarked upon. But underlying their words was an unspoken acknowledgment of the present, of the preciousness of these moments together.

They stopped at a gelateria, lured by the promise of homemade gelato. As they sampled flavors – Obi-Wan favoring the classic stracciatella, Cody opting for a bold pistachio – their laughter mingled with the lively chatter of the shop. The gelato was a burst of sweetness on their tongues, a simple pleasure magnified by the joy of sharing it with each other.

Leaving the gelateria, they continued their stroll, the sun now a fiery orb kissing the edge of the sea. Around them, the town began to shift from the languid pace of the afternoon to the vibrant energy of the evening. Lights twinkled on in the houses and along the streets, casting a golden glow on the cobblestones.

As night fell, they found themselves at a small trattoria, tucked away in a corner of the town. The atmosphere inside was cozy, the air filled with the aroma of garlic, basil, and simmering tomatoes. They were shown to a table by the window, a candle flickering softly between them.

Over dinner, they delved into deeper conversations, exploring topics that touched the core of their beings. Obi-Wan spoke of his roles, of the characters that had left imprints on his soul, of the blurred lines between reality and the personas he portrayed. Cody listened, his eyes never leaving Obi-Wan's face, seeing not the actor, but the man he had come to love – complex, thoughtful, and endlessly fascinating.

Cody shared his own reflections, of the transition from bodyguard to partner, of the challenges and joys it brought. He spoke of his aspirations, of a life that was no longer defined by the protection of others but enriched by the love he shared with Obi-Wan.

Their conversation was a tapestry of shared experiences and individual dreams, woven together by the threads of their deep connection. They spoke not just with words, but with glances, touches, and smiles – a language that was uniquely theirs.

As they left the trattoria, the night enveloping them in its embrace, they walked hand in hand, lost in their world. The Amalfi Coast, with its timeless beauty and rhythmic pulse, had become a witness to their love – a love that was as vast as the sea, as enduring as the cliffs, and as vibrant as the life that coursed through the streets of the coastal towns.

In this corner of the world, they were not actor and former bodyguard; they were Obi-Wan and Cody, two souls on a journey of love and discovery, their hearts beating in unison with the timeless rhythm of the Amalfi Coast.

*** 

In the ensuing days, Obi-Wan and Cody immersed themselves in the essence of the Amalfi Coast, their journey a tapestry of experiences, each thread woven with the joy of discovery and the depth of their connection. The historic streets of Positano offered a kaleidoscope of sights, sounds, and scents, the air rich with the aroma of freshly baked bread and the salty tang of the sea.

As they meandered through the vibrant marketplace, their hands occasionally brushing, Obi-Wan's gaze was drawn to a stall adorned with an array of hand-painted ceramics. "These are exquisite," he murmured, tracing the intricate patterns with a finger, his eyes reflecting the vivid blues and yellows of the pottery.

Cody watched him, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You always had an eye for beauty," he said, his tone light yet laced with an undercurrent of admiration. "Remember that painting you picked out for our living room? I never would've given it a second glance, but it's perfect."

Obi-Wan looked up, meeting Cody's gaze, a soft laugh escaping his lips. "Ah, but you have your strengths too," he replied, his eyes crinkling with mirth. "Who else would've thought to pair that antique lamp with our modern decor? You have a knack for blending the old and new."

Their conversation, a playful dance of compliment and jest, continued as they left the marketplace, their newly acquired ceramic piece carefully wrapped and tucked under Obi-Wan's arm. They talked of ordinary things – of home, of favorite meals, of mundane chores – yet in their words lay the extraordinary nature of their shared life.

The journey to Ravello was a winding ascent, the road snaking up through the hills, offering breathtaking views of the coastline. The lush gardens of Ravello awaited them, a verdant paradise suspended between sky and sea. As they walked along the pathways, flanked by blooming flowers and ancient statues, the beauty of the place seemed to mirror the beauty of their relationship – vibrant, alive, and full of hidden depths.

Obi-Wan paused by a bed of roses, their petals a delicate blush against the green. "I've always loved roses," he said, his voice a whisper, as if sharing a secret with the flowers themselves. "There's something about their elegance, their resilience... they thrive even amidst thorns."

Cody, standing beside him, nodded, his eyes not on the roses, but on Obi-Wan. "Just like us, huh?" he mused, his voice tinged with a quiet strength. "We've had our share of thorns, challenges... but here we are, thriving."

Obi-Wan turned to him, a tender smile spreading across his face. "Yes, here we are," he echoed, his hand reaching out to gently grasp Cody's. "And I wouldn't change a thing."

Their stroll through the gardens was a journey through their memories, each flower, each turn of the path evoking a story, a shared moment. They spoke of past hardships with a reflective honesty, of triumphs with a quiet pride, their conversation a testament to the depth of their understanding and the strength of their bond.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a golden light over the gardens, Obi-Wan and Cody found a secluded spot, a bench overlooking the vast expanse of the sea. Sitting side by side, they watched in silence as the sky transformed into a canvas of fiery oranges and purples, the sun's final performance before nightfall.

"It's moments like these that I'll cherish forever," Obi-Wan said softly, his voice barely above a whisper, as if in reverence to the spectacle before them. "With you, every ordinary moment becomes extraordinary."

Cody turned to him, his eyes reflecting the colors of the sunset. "And with you, every day is an adventure, a story waiting to be written," he replied, his words a mirror to Obi-Wan's sentiments. "I can't imagine my life without these moments, without you."

As the last rays of the sun disappeared, leaving behind a sky strewn with stars, Obi-Wan and Cody sat in comfortable silence, lost in their thoughts, yet united in their emotions. In the heart of Ravello's gardens, under the canopy of the night sky, they found not just the beauty of the world around them, but the beauty of their love – a love as enduring as the ancient hills, as vast as the sea, and as radiant as the stars above.

*** 

Under the veil of night, the Amalfi Coast transformed into a realm of quiet whispers and shadowed pathways, a stark contrast to the vibrant tapestry of the day. Obi-Wan and Cody, their hands interlocked, wandered through the dimly lit streets of Amalfi, their path illuminated by sporadic streetlights that cast a soft, golden glow.

The air was cool and crisp, the earlier warmth of the day now a memory, replaced by a gentle breeze that carried with it the faint scent of the sea and night-blooming jasmine. They walked in comfortable silence, occasionally exchanging glances and soft smiles, each step an affirmation of their shared journey.

As they turned a corner, they stumbled upon a small, lively piazza where a group of musicians played a lilting melody, their notes floating through the air like a serenade to the night. People gathered around, some swaying to the music, others simply enjoying the impromptu concert.

A few passersby glanced at Obi-Wan, recognition flickering in their eyes, but they offered nothing more than a respectful nod or a discreet smile. The anonymity granted to them in this foreign land was a cherished gift, allowing Obi-Wan to shed the cloak of celebrity and simply be, his true self unveiled in the presence of Cody and the embracing night.

Amidst the music and the subdued chatter of the crowd, Cody's gaze was fixed on Obi-Wan, a mixture of love and an unspoken anxiety simmering beneath his calm exterior. In just a couple of days, he would be proposing to Obi-Wan, a moment he had meticulously planned yet now approached with a growing nervousness.

"Let's dance," Obi-Wan suddenly suggested, his eyes twinkling with a playful light. He tugged gently at Cody's hand, leading him closer to the musicians.

Cody, caught off guard by the suggestion, hesitated. "Dance? Here?" he asked, his voice tinged with a hint of uncertainty.

"Why not?" Obi-Wan replied, his tone light and encouraging. "There's music, a beautiful night, and us. What more do we need?"

With a reluctant chuckle, Cody allowed himself to be led into the impromptu dance, their movements at first awkward, then gradually finding a rhythm. As they swayed to the music, Cody's nervousness began to ebb, replaced by the warmth of Obi-Wan's smile and the gentle pressure of his hand.

"You're not so bad at this," Obi-Wan teased, his voice a soft murmur close to Cody's ear.

"I have an excellent teacher," Cody replied, a smile breaking through his earlier apprehension.

As the song came to an end, they paused, their foreheads touching lightly, the sounds of the piazza fading into a distant backdrop. For a moment, it was just the two of them, their shared breaths a testament to the closeness they had nurtured.

They resumed their walk, the music now a soft echo behind them. Cody's thoughts returned to the looming proposal, a knot of nerves and excitement tangling in his stomach. He glanced at Obi-Wan, who seemed lost in the beauty of the night, his face aglow in the soft light of the streetlamps.

Cody knew that what he was about to do would change their lives forever. The weight of the ring, safely hidden in his suitcase, felt like a physical presence, a reminder of the commitment he was about to make. Yet, looking at Obi-Wan, feeling the strength of their bond, he knew that this was the path he wanted to take, the future he yearned for.

Their conversation drifted to lighter topics – a discussion about the next day's plans, a shared joke about an amusing incident from their earlier explorations. Yet, beneath the casual banter, there was an undercurrent of anticipation, a sense of something momentous on the horizon.

As they returned to their hotel, the night enveloped them in its embrace, the stars above witnesses to the silent promises and unspoken dreams that danced in their hearts. In the quiet of their room, they lay side by side, the sound of the distant sea a lullaby that lulled them into a peaceful slumber, their fingers entwined, their souls aligned, on the cusp of a new chapter that awaited them with the dawn.

**** 

The following morning dawned with a gentle caress of light spilling through the curtains of their hotel room, painting soft streaks of gold across the bed where Obi-Wan and Cody lay, still entwined in sleep's tender embrace. The tranquility of the room, with its muted colors and the distant sound of the sea, provided a cocoon of peace, a stark contrast to the often tumultuous world they navigated beyond these walls.

As they awoke, the air between them filled with the quiet yet profound intimacy that had become the cornerstone of their relationship. Cody, his eyes tracing the contours of Obi-Wan's face, felt a surge of emotion at the thought of the proposal he planned for the following day. The mixture of anticipation and apprehension was a delicate dance in his mind, each step a balance between fear and love.

Obi-Wan, sensing Cody's contemplative silence, turned to face him, his own expression a canvas of curiosity and affection. "You're deep in thought this morning," he observed, his voice soft, a gentle probe into Cody's inner world.

Cody offered a small, somewhat strained smile. "Just thinking about us, about everything we've been through," he admitted, his gaze not quite meeting Obi-Wan's.

Obi-Wan reached out, his fingers gently tilting Cody's chin, ensuring their eyes met. "We've certainly had our share of storms," he said, a hint of nostalgia lacing his words. "But look at us now, stronger for it all."

The conversation drifted to the past, to the time Obi-Wan was injured, an event that had shaken the very foundations of their relationship. Cody's eyes darkened at the memory, the guilt and helplessness he had felt still a shadow in his heart.

"I almost ran away then," Cody confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "The thought that I had failed to protect you, that I was the cause of your pain... it was too much to bear."

Obi-Wan's hand found Cody's, a reassuring anchor. "But you didn't run away," he said gently. "You faced it, faced your fears, and we came out stronger. That's what matters."

Cody's eyes held a lingering sorrow, a remnant of the scars left by the incident. "I was so afraid of losing you, not just to the injury but to the realization that I wasn't infallible, that I couldn't always be your shield."

"And I was afraid too," Obi-Wan added, his voice tinged with his own vulnerability. "Afraid of what the injury meant for my career, for our life together. But in that fear, we found strength in each other, a connection that went beyond physical protection or fame."

The room fell into a comfortable silence, their thoughts and emotions weaving a shared tapestry of understanding and resilience. Obi-Wan broke the silence, his tone reflective. "You know, my feelings towards fame have been evolving," he mused. "There was a time when it was all I sought, a validation of my worth. But now, I see it for what it is – fleeting, sometimes hollow."

Cody nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face. "And yet, you've used it to bring joy, to tell stories that matter," he said, his admiration for Obi-Wan evident in his words.

Obi-Wan's gaze drifted towards the window, towards the sea that lay beyond. "Yes, but it's the genuine connections that truly matter," he said, turning back to Cody, his eyes alight with sincerity. "Connections like ours, built on honesty, on understanding each other's fears and dreams."

Cody felt a warmth spread through him at Obi-Wan's words, a reaffirmation of the depth of their bond. "I never knew I could have something like this," he confessed, his voice laden with emotion. "With you, I've found not just love but a partner, a confidant."

They lay there for a while, basking in the comfort of their shared space, of the journey they had embarked upon together. The conversation had meandered through the landscapes of their past, each memory a stepping stone to their present, a present filled with hope and the promise of a future woven with love and understanding.

As the morning light grew stronger, casting a gentle warmth over the room, they rose, ready to face the day, their hearts aligned, their souls intertwined. The proposal, now just a day away, lingered in the air between them, an unspoken promise of a commitment that would mark a new chapter in the extraordinary tale of Obi-Wan and Cody.

*** 

The day unfolded like a carefully crafted sonnet, each line a new adventure, each verse a deeper exploration of the Amalfi Coast's enchanting beauty. Cody, having planned this day with meticulous attention to detail, wore a veneer of calm, though beneath it, currents of nervous anticipation swirled.

Their journey began with a visit to a vineyard nestled on a sun-kissed hillside, the vines a vibrant green against the backdrop of a clear blue sky. The air was rich with the scent of ripening grapes and earth, a perfume that spoke of nature's bountiful gifts.

As they strolled through the rows of vines, Obi-Wan's keen eyes noticed the slight tension in Cody's shoulders, the way his gaze often drifted to the horizon, lost in thought. "You seem a bit distant today," Obi-Wan commented, his voice light but laced with concern.

Cody, caught off guard, offered a quick, somewhat strained smile. "Just taking in the beauty of this place," he replied, gesturing to the sprawling vineyard. "It's not every day we get to walk through a scene straight out of a painting."

Obi-Wan, not entirely convinced but choosing not to press further, nodded, allowing the conversation to shift to the process of wine-making as explained by their guide. The guide, a jovial man with hands stained from years of work among the vines, shared stories of the vineyard's history, each tale a testament to the land's rich heritage.

As they tasted various wines, the flavors bold and invigorating on their palates, Obi-Wan observed Cody with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. He noted the careful way Cody listened to the guide, the occasional furtive glances he cast Obi-Wan's way, as if seeking approval or perhaps reassurance.

Their next stop was a quaint local restaurant, where they indulged in the exquisite cuisine of the region. Plates of fresh seafood, pasta drizzled in rich sauces, and vibrant salads graced their table, each dish a burst of flavor, a celebration of local culinary artistry.

Throughout the meal, Cody's attempts at casual conversation were interspersed with moments of introspection, his mind seemingly adrift. Obi-Wan, sensing the undercurrent of Cody's unease, reached across the table, his hand gently covering Cody's. "Whatever it is, you can tell me," he said softly, his eyes searching Cody's.

Cody shook his head, a slight smile touching his lips. "It's nothing, really. Just want everything to be perfect for you," he said, his voice tinged with an emotion he couldn't quite mask.

The day waned, and they found themselves at a secluded beach, the setting sun painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. The sound of the waves lapping gently at the shore was a rhythmic lullaby, a serene soundtrack to the end of their day.

As they walked along the water's edge, the sand cool beneath their feet, Obi-Wan's thoughts lingered on Cody's unusual demeanor. "You've been quiet," he observed, his gaze fixed on the horizon, where the sky met the sea in a delicate embrace.

Cody, his eyes reflecting the colors of the sunset, sighed. "I guess I'm just lost in the moment, in the beauty of all this," he said, his voice a mix of truth and evasion.

Obi-Wan, feeling the honesty but also the evasion in Cody's words, decided to let it be, respecting the boundary of his unspoken thoughts. They continued their walk, the silence comfortable yet filled with unvoiced questions and emotions.

As the sky darkened, giving way to the first stars of the evening, Cody's nervous energy seemed to dissipate, replaced by a quiet resolve. Obi-Wan, sensing the shift, squeezed Cody's hand, a silent message of support and love.

They stood at the water's edge, watching the stars emerge, the vastness of the universe a reminder of the infinite possibilities that life offered. In that moment, on that secluded beach, with the night embracing them in its gentle arms, Obi-Wan and Cody stood together, two souls connected by a love as deep as the sea and as endless as the sky.

The gentle lapping of the waves against the shore played a soothing melody as Obi-Wan and Cody lingered on the beach, the twilight sky a canvas of deepening blues and purples. Stars began to twinkle into existence above them, each one a distant, shimmering point of light in the vastness of the night.

Obi-Wan, standing beside Cody, felt a sense of wonder enveloping the moment. There was something about the day, with its carefully chosen activities and Cody's underlying current of nervous anticipation, that hinted at more than just a desire to enjoy the beauty of the Amalfi Coast. He watched Cody, who stood staring out at the sea, his profile etched against the fading light, a silhouette of contemplation.

"You've outdone yourself today, you know," Obi-Wan said, breaking the comfortable silence. His voice was soft, a gentle nudge into Cody's thoughts.

Cody turned towards him, a flicker of surprise crossing his features before settling into a smile. "I just wanted to make it memorable," he replied, his tone carrying a hint of something unspoken, a depth yet to be revealed.

Obi-Wan observed him closely, noting the way Cody's eyes seemed to hold a multitude of secrets, like the sea reflecting the myriad stars above. "It's more than that, isn't it?" Obi-Wan ventured, his intuition sensing the undercurrents of the day.

Cody's gaze shifted back to the sea, a momentary escape from Obi-Wan's perceptive eyes. "Sometimes, I think you know me better than I know myself," he said, his voice a whisper lost in the sound of the waves.

They walked back towards their shoes, left at the edge of the beach, their footprints a transient mark on the smooth sand. The night air was cool, a gentle breeze playing with Obi-Wan's hair, bringing with it the salty scent of the sea.

As they put on their shoes, Obi-Wan kept stealing glances at Cody, trying to decipher the thoughts behind those introspective eyes. "Cody, whatever it is, you can share it with me. You know that, right?" Obi-Wan asked, his concern laced with affection.

Cody looked up, meeting Obi-Wan's gaze, a myriad of emotions playing across his face. "I know, and I will, just..." he trailed off, his sentence hanging unfinished in the air.

They began their walk back to the hotel, the path illuminated by sporadic streetlights that cast a warm glow on their surroundings. The night was peaceful, the occasional sound of distant laughter or the soft strumming of a guitar from a nearby house adding to the serene atmosphere.

As they walked, Obi-Wan found himself reflecting on their relationship, on the journey they had embarked upon together. He thought about the strength they had found in each other, the way Cody had stood by him through the highs and lows, the way they had navigated the complexities of their lives with an unwavering commitment to each other.

Cody, meanwhile, was lost in his thoughts, the weight of the impending proposal both a source of joy and anxiety. He wanted everything to be perfect, to express the depth of his love for Obi-Wan in a moment that would be etched in their memories forever.

Upon reaching the hotel, they retired to their room, the soft sound of the sea a constant presence in the background. As they prepared for bed, the unspoken anticipation of the following day hung in the air, a promise of a moment that would mark a new chapter in the beautiful narrative of their lives.

In the quiet of the room, with only the moonlight streaming through the window as their witness, Obi-Wan and Cody lay side by side, their thoughts intertwined with their unspoken emotions. The night whispered its secrets, and in its embrace, they found a sense of peace, a serene prelude to the dawn of a significant day that awaited them.

As the sun began its graceful descent towards the horizon, painting the sky in a palette of fiery oranges and soft pinks, Cody led Obi-Wan along the winding paths of Ravello towards their final destination for the day. The air was filled with the gentle scent of blooming flowers and the faint saltiness of the sea, creating an atmosphere that was both tranquil and charged with anticipation.

The Terrazza dell'Infinito, renowned for its breathtaking views, awaited them, its beauty a perfect reflection of the moment's significance. The terrace, perched on the edge of a cliff, offered an unobstructed view of the vast sea below, the water a shimmering canvas under the setting sun's tender strokes.

Obi-Wan, taken aback by the sheer magnificence of the view, stood in awe, his eyes wide with wonder. "Cody, this is incredible," he breathed out, his voice tinged with an emotion he couldn't quite name.

Cody, standing beside Obi-Wan, his heart pounding in his chest, took a deep breath. This was the moment he had been preparing for, the moment that would forever change the course of their lives. He turned to face Obi-Wan, taking both of Obi-Wan's hands in his.

"Obi-Wan," Cody began, his voice steady but filled with a depth of emotion that resonated in the quiet air around them. "From the moment we met, you've been a constant light in my life, guiding me through my darkest days, and celebrating with me in my brightest."

Obi-Wan, sensing the gravity of Cody's words, listened intently, his heart beginning to understand the magnitude of what was unfolding.

Cody continued, his eyes locked with Obi-Wan's, "We've weathered storms together, faced challenges that seemed insurmountable. When you were injured, I thought I had lost everything. The fear of losing you, the guilt of not being able to protect you... it nearly broke me."

Obi-Wan's eyes glistened with unshed tears, the memories of those days a vivid tapestry in his mind.

"But you," Cody's voice cracked slightly, emotion seeping through, "you showed me that true strength lies not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall. You taught me that love isn't just about the joyous moments, but also about standing together in the face of adversity, about holding each other up when the world tries to tear us down."

The sun dipped lower, casting a golden glow over them, the light a silent witness to Cody's heartfelt declaration.

"And now, here, in this place of infinite beauty, I want to ask you the most important question of my life." Cody reached into his pocket, his hands trembling slightly as he pulled out a small, velvet box.

Obi-Wan's breath caught in his throat, his pulse quickening with the realization of what was about to happen.

Cody opened the box to reveal a simple, yet elegant ring, the stone catching the last rays of the sun, sparkling with a promise of forever. "Obi-Wan Kenobi, will you marry me? Will you continue this incredible journey with me, as my partner, my confidant, my love, for the rest of our lives?"

The words hung in the air, a tender offering of a shared future, a vow of eternal commitment.

Obi-Wan, overcome with emotion, tears streaming down his face, nodded, unable to find the words to express the depth of his feelings. "Yes, Cody, yes," he finally managed to say, his voice a whisper that carried the weight of his love and joy.

Cody, his own eyes brimming with tears, slipped the ring onto Obi-Wan's finger, a perfect fit, a symbol of their unbreakable bond.

They embraced, holding each other close, their hearts beating in unison, as the sun set below the horizon, leaving behind a sky painted in shades of purple and blue, the stars beginning to twinkle in the celestial canopy above.

In that moment, on the Terrazza dell'Infinito, with the world sprawling out beneath them, Obi-Wan and Cody stood together, their future laid out before them, a future filled with love, hope, and infinite possibilities. The proposal, a poignant culmination of their shared past and a hopeful glance towards their future, was a moment etched in time, a memory that would forever be a cornerstone of their life together.

**** 

In the wake of Cody's heartfelt proposal, the world around Obi-Wan and Cody seemed to stand still, the only reality being the space they occupied together on the Terrazza dell'Infinito. The sky, now a tapestry of deep blues and purples, stretched infinitely above them, a celestial witness to their newly promised commitment.

As they stepped away from the terrace's edge, their hands remained clasped, a physical manifestation of the invisible bond that had been strengthened in those profound moments. They walked in silence, the weight of their emotions rendering words unnecessary. The night air was cool against their skin, a gentle reminder of the world's continued existence around their intimate bubble.

Finding a secluded spot, they sat side by side, their gaze fixed on the vast expanse of the star-studded sky above. The gentle sound of the sea, a constant companion throughout their journey in Amalfi, provided a soothing background melody to their thoughts.

Cody, his earlier nervousness replaced by a sense of serene contentment, turned to Obi-Wan, his eyes reflecting the starlight. "I can't believe you said yes," he whispered, his voice a mix of awe and happiness.

Obi-Wan, still processing the multitude of emotions that the proposal had stirred, smiled softly. "How could I not? You've just given me one of the most beautiful moments of my life," he replied, his tone imbued with sincerity.

The quiet of the night enveloped them, the occasional sound of a distant wave crashing against the shore punctuating their shared silence. Obi-Wan leaned his head on Cody's shoulder, a gesture of trust and affection. "I was thinking about the first time we came to Italy," he mused, his voice tinged with nostalgia. "Everything was so new, so uncertain. And now, here we are, engaged under the same Italian sky."

Cody's arm wrapped around Obi-Wan, pulling him closer. "It feels like a full circle, doesn't it?" he said, a note of wonder in his voice. "From uncertainty to a promise of a lifetime."

The ring on Obi-Wan's finger caught the faint light of the stars, a small but significant symbol of their commitment. Obi-Wan turned his hand, watching the light dance across the surface of the stone. "This ring... it's not just a piece of jewelry. It's a promise, a reminder of everything we've been through and everything we have yet to experience together."

Cody nodded, his gaze still fixed on the sky. "I wanted it to be perfect, the proposal. I kept going over it in my mind, worrying about every little detail."

"And it was perfect," Obi-Wan assured him, lifting his head to look into Cody's eyes. "Not because of the setting or the words, but because it was us, because it was real."

They sat there, under the vast canopy of the night, sharing thoughts and dreams, basking in the glow of their newly affirmed love. The stars seemed to shine a little brighter, the sea to sing a little sweeter, as if nature itself was celebrating their union.

As the night deepened, they rose, hand in hand, walking back to their hotel. The path was familiar, yet it felt different, imbued with the significance of the evening's events. Their steps were light, their hearts full, their future a path strewn with the potential of shared adventures and shared life.

Back in their room, they stood at the window, looking out at the night sky. The stars seemed to wink at them, a cosmic approval of their love. In this quiet moment, with the world asleep around them, they embraced, their engagement not just a formal promise, but a deepening of the bond that had already been forged through time, through trials, and through an unwavering commitment to each other.

In the stillness of the night, with the stars as their only witness, they celebrated their engagement, a celebration not of grandeur, but of intimacy, a quiet acknowledgement of the journey they had embarked on together, and the journey that lay ahead. The chapter of their lives closed with a sense of fulfillment, of peace, and of an unspoken excitement for what the future would bring. In each other, they had found their partner, their confidant, their love – under the stars, under the Italian sky, in a world of their own.

As they stood at the window, gazing out into the starlit night, a sense of profound peace enveloped Obi-Wan and Cody. The world outside was a distant echo, their room a sanctuary where dreams and future plans began to unfurl like delicate blossoms.

Obi-Wan, his hand still clasped in Cody's, broke the silence with a contemplative voice. "Do you ever think about how our wedding will be?" he asked, his tone laced with a mixture of curiosity and excitement.

Cody, turning to face him, smiled thoughtfully. "I have, more times than I can count. But now that it's real, it feels different, more... substantial." He paused, searching Obi-Wan's eyes. "I always imagined something small but meaningful, with our closest friends and family, somewhere that holds significance for us."

Obi-Wan's eyes lit up with shared enthusiasm. "I love that idea. Maybe somewhere outdoors, under the stars, like tonight. A celebration that's intimate and true to who we are."

The room seemed to grow warmer with their burgeoning plans, the air itself buzzing with the potential of their shared future. Obi-Wan walked over to the bedside table, retrieving a small notebook and a pen. "Let's jot down our ideas. Everything from the venue to the vows. This is the beginning of our journey, not just as partners, but as a married couple."

As they sat on the bed, the notebook between them, ideas flowed freely, each suggestion a building block in the foundation of their wedding day. Cody mentioned a vineyard they had visited once, its beauty and serenity a perfect backdrop for their vows. Obi-Wan suggested a string quartet, their music a subtle accompaniment to the natural setting.

Their conversation was a tapestry of dreams and aspirations, woven with threads of love and mutual understanding. They spoke of guests, of flowers, of the menu, each detail a reflection of their personalities and their journey together.

As the list grew, so did their excitement, their voices intertwining in a melody of anticipation and joy. Obi-Wan, his eyes sparkling with happiness, leaned in closer to Cody. "And what about our life after the wedding? Have you thought about that?"

Cody, his heart swelling with emotion, nodded. "Every day," he replied. "I dream of a home filled with laughter, with love, a place where we can be ourselves, unguarded and free. I see us traveling, exploring the world together, making memories in every corner of the globe."

Obi-Wan's smile was a mirror to Cody's dreams. "And I see us continuing to grow, individually and together. Supporting each other's aspirations, celebrating each success, no matter how small."

Their dreams for the future were as vast as the night sky outside their window, each star a distant beacon of hope and possibility. They talked of adopting a dog, of maybe one day writing a book together, of learning new things from each other.

The notebook, now filled with their ideas and dreams, lay closed on the bed, a testament to the beginning of a new chapter in their lives. They lay down, turning off the bedside lamp, the room enveloped in the soft glow of the moonlight.

In the quiet of the night, with only the sound of their steady breathing, Obi-Wan and Cody lay side by side, their hearts full of love and hope. The future, once a distant concept, was now a tangible path stretching out before them, paved with the promises they had made and the dreams they shared.

The chapter of their lives closed on a note of hopeful anticipation, their engagement not just a commitment to marry but a vow to continue building a life rich with love, adventure, and shared dreams. Under the blanket of the night, they drifted off to sleep, their thoughts intertwined with the possibilities of tomorrow and the many tomorrows to come. In each other, they had found more than a partner; they had found a companion for life's journey, a journey that was just beginning.

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this journey through love and the stunning landscapes of Italy, feel free to reblog and share your thoughts. Your support means the world!

[star-wars-writing]

Galactic Tides of Fortune

A/N: Embark on an adventure through the stars with two of the most iconic characters from the Star Wars universe, reimagined as daring space pirates. This story blends action, intrigue, and unexpected alliances, set against the backdrop of a galaxy far, far away. Please note that while this is a work of fanfiction, all original characters and settings belong to the Star Wars franchise. I hope you enjoy this interstellar journey for @codywanbingo. I combined the prompts: Date night and double date, since it's a lot similar I suppose.

In the uncharted expanse of space, where stars whispered secrets across light-years and black holes hummed with the symphony of the cosmos, lawlessness reigned supreme. Here, in this interstellar wilderness, the rules of civilized worlds bent and broke under the weight of freedom and anarchy.

The galaxy, a canvas of endless night punctuated by the diamond-like sparkle of distant suns, stretched infinitely in every direction. Nebulae swirled in vibrant hues, painting the void with strokes of cosmic artistry. Asteroids drifted lazily, their jagged surfaces telling tales of ancient collisions. Comets streaked past, their icy tails shimmering like celestial veils.

In this boundless arena, space pirates roamed like phantoms. Their ships, cobbled together from scavenged parts and stolen technology, were as diverse as the crews they housed. Some were sleek, predatory vessels that sliced through the darkness; others were hulking behemoths, patchworked with armor and bristling with illegal weaponry. They slipped through asteroid fields and lurked near unstable wormholes, waiting to pounce on unwary travelers or intercept precious cargo.

The void was alive with the silent echoes of their conquests – the crackle of blaster fire, the roar of engines in hot pursuit, the final sigh of a ship succumbing to the vacuum. These pirates were the ghosts of space, elusive and feared, bound by no law but their own.

On distant planets and remote space stations, tales of their exploits were traded like currency. In shadowy taverns and bustling marketplaces, people spoke in hushed tones about the latest daring heist or the most wanted outlaw. There was an air of grudging respect, a recognition of the harsh freedom these space-faring renegades represented.

Yet, amidst the anarchy, there was a code – unspoken, yet understood by all who navigated this starlit underworld. It was a code of survival, of honor among thieves, and the unyielding pursuit of fortune. In the vastness of space, where empires rose and fell like the tides of the oceans on distant, forgotten worlds, these pirates were the only constant, their stories woven into the fabric of the galaxy itself.

As distant suns set on alien horizons and the cold embrace of space wrapped around the countless worlds, the pirates continued their endless dance. It was a dance of shadows and light, of danger and desire, played out against the backdrop of a universe both beautiful and unforgiving.

*** 

In the depths of the cosmos, aboard the Midnight Mirage, a vessel as enigmatic as its captain, Obi-Wan Kenobi stood with an air of composed anticipation. The ship, a sleek phantom against the star-speckled blackness, hummed quietly, as if resonating with the heartbeat of the universe itself. Obi-Wan, a figure both revered and feared in the pirate underworld, carried a reputation that seemed to stretch as far and wide as the galaxy itself. He was known not just for his strategic brilliance but also for his unyielding honor – a rarity in the lawless reaches of space.

Around him, his crew – Plo, Quinlan, Mace, and Tholme – moved with a fluidity that spoke of countless hours spent under his command. They were more than just subordinates; they were disciples of his unique brand of leadership, each reflecting a facet of his complex persona.

Plo, at navigation, was the calm to Obi-Wan's storm. His steady hands guided the Midnight Mirage through asteroid fields and nebulae with an ease that belied the dangers of such maneuvers. "Captain, we're nearing the Dalmar Sector. Sensors are picking up faint, anomalous signals," he reported, his voice a steady thrum in the quiet of the bridge.

Quinlan, manning communications, had a spark in his eyes that mirrored the stars outside. His wit was as quick as his skills, a balance of levity and expertise. "Could be our prize, or could be trouble. With our luck, probably a bit of both," he quipped, casting a sidelong glance at Obi-Wan, whose response was a slight, knowing smile.

Mace, overseeing the ship's defenses, exuded a quiet strength. Her vigilance was a silent promise of protection, a shield against the unpredictability of space. "Defenses are primed. Whatever's out there, we're ready for it," she assured, her voice carrying the unspoken bond of trust that she shared with her captain and crewmates.

Tholme, the quiet observer, monitored the ship's vital systems. His hands moved with a precision that spoke of deep familiarity with the Midnight Mirage's heart and soul. His role was less conspicuous but no less crucial, ensuring their survival in the unforgiving vacuum of space.

Together, they were a microcosm of the galaxy's diversity – different worlds, different stories, all converging under the banner of the Midnight Mirage. The crew's synergy was a testament to Obi-Wan's leadership, his ability to unify disparate elements into a cohesive, formidable force.

Obi-Wan's gaze lingered on the star map, his mind weaving through strategies and possibilities. His crew watched him, their expressions a mix of respect and anticipation. In him, they saw not just a captain, but a mentor, a guardian, a beacon in the vastness of space. His decisions were not just commands; they were lessons in survival, in resilience, in the art of navigating the treacherous tides of the galaxy.

As the Midnight Mirage glided closer to the source of the signals, the tension on the bridge was palpable, yet there was an underlying current of excitement. They were on the brink of something monumental, a discovery that could redefine their place in the cosmos. And at the helm stood Obi-Wan Kenobi, the pirate, the strategist, the legend, guiding them into the unknown with the unwavering certainty of a star guiding ships through the night.

**** 

Meanwhile, in another quadrant of the same star-strewn expanse, the Crimson Corsair, a ship as formidable and audacious as its captain, sliced through space. Commander Cody, at the helm, was a figure of commanding presence, his gaze fixed on the sea of stars before him. His reputation was the stuff of legend in the pirate circles – a master tactician, known for his daring raids and unshakable resolve. He was a captain who navigated the chaotic waves of space with the precision of a seasoned seafarer.

Cody's crew — Rex, Wolffe, Ponds, Fives, and Echo — operated with a well-oiled efficiency that spoke of their deep respect and unwavering loyalty to their captain. They were not just a crew; they were a band of brothers, each battle-hardened and fiercely dedicated.

Rex, the first mate, approached Cody with a datapad in hand. "We're closing in on the Dalmar Sector, Captain. The readings are consistent with the intel we received," he reported, his tone firm yet laced with an undercurrent of excitement.

Cody's eyes, sharp as a hawk's, scanned the data. His mind, a strategic map, plotted their course with meticulous care. "Prepare for a stealth approach. If our information is correct, we're not the only ones after this prize," he said, his voice carrying the gravel of experience.

Wolffe, handling the ship's armaments, nodded in acknowledgment. "Weapons are at the ready, Captain. We'll give them a run for their money if it comes to it," he declared, his hand instinctively resting on the console.

Ponds, the navigator, adjusted their trajectory, his movements precise and deliberate. "Stealth mode engaged. We'll be a ghost in the stars," he affirmed, a slight smirk playing on his lips.

Fives and Echo, stationed at communications and engineering respectively, shared a glance. There was an unspoken bond between them, a shared history that had seen them through the darkest of times. "All systems are optimal. We're ready for whatever this sector has in store for us," Echo stated, his voice a steady beacon amidst the anticipation that filled the air.

The Crimson Corsair moved silently, a shadow against the cosmic canvas. Cody's crew watched him, their gazes reflecting a mix of admiration and readiness. In him, they saw not just a leader but a symbol of their own resilience, a reminder of the paths they had traversed and the battles they had won.

As they neared their destination, Cody's thoughts were a whirlwind of strategies and contingencies. He knew the risks, the perils that lurked in the uncharted territories of space. Yet, there was a thrill in the challenge, a fire that burned in the heart of every space pirate – the relentless pursuit of fortune, of glory, of the unattainable.

Rex studied his captain, seeing the gears turning in his mind. He knew that beneath Cody's stoic exterior was a maelstrom of determination and cunning. "We're with you, Captain. Through every star and storm," he said, his voice a testament to the unbreakable bond they shared.

The Crimson Corsair continued its silent voyage, a spectral vessel on a collision course with destiny. At its helm stood Commander Cody, the pirate, the visionary, the indomitable spirit, leading his crew into the heart of the unknown, where the secrets of the Dalmar Sector awaited, shrouded in the mystery of the cosmos.

*** 

As the *Midnight Mirage* glided through the void, an air of expectancy permeated its confines. Obi-Wan Kenobi, his eyes reflecting the distant galaxies, received the transmission that set their new course. The message, encrypted and subtle, spoke of an artifact of immense power and value, hidden within the Dalmar Sector.

Plo, upon hearing the news, couldn't mask the flicker of excitement in his eyes. "This could be the breakthrough we've been searching for," he said, his voice a mix of hope and caution.

Obi-Wan, ever the contemplative leader, pondered the implications. "Yes, but such power will attract others. We must be prepared for that inevitability." His words carried the weight of experience, a reminder of the countless dangers they had faced in their quest for such relics.

Quinlan grinned, the thrill of the chase evident in his demeanor. "A little competition never hurt, eh, Captain?" he quipped, though his eyes betrayed the understanding of the risks involved.

Mace nodded, her thoughts aligned with her captain's strategic mindset. "It's not just the artifact. It's who we might encounter trying to claim it. We need to stay sharp," she cautioned, her hand instinctively resting on her blaster.

Tholme, the quiet one, adjusted the ship's energy output, ensuring they were battle-ready. "All systems optimal. We'll give them a run for their credits," he stated, his tone steady and reassuring.

**** 

Meanwhile, aboard the *Crimson Corsair*, the atmosphere was equally charged. Cody received the same news, the details of the artifact igniting a fire in his eyes. "This is it. The prize we've been waiting for," he announced, his voice resonant with determination.

Rex stepped forward, his loyalty to Cody as unshakeable as the stars themselves. "We'll need a solid plan. There's no telling what we're up against," he said, his strategic mind already mapping out potential scenarios.

Wolffe, ever the pragmatist, checked their arsenal. "We're ready for a fight if it comes to that. But let's hope stealth can get us there first," he suggested, his gaze fixed on the weapons panel.

Ponds, navigating the ship through the stars, added, "We have the element of surprise on our side. Let's use it to our advantage."

Fives and Echo exchanged looks, their shared history having taught them the value of being prepared for any eventuality. "We'll keep the ship running smoothly. You focus on getting us in and out with that artifact," Echo said, his voice reflecting the depth of trust and camaraderie that defined Cody's crew.

As both the *Midnight Mirage* and the *Crimson Corsair* made their way towards the Dalmar Sector, a sense of destiny hung in the air. Obi-Wan and Cody, though unaware of each other's involvement, were bound by a common goal – a prize of untold power that beckoned them deeper into the cosmos. Their crews, a testament to their leadership and vision, stood ready, each member playing a crucial role in the unfolding drama of space piracy, where risk and reward danced a perilous waltz among the stars.

*** 

As the Midnight Mirage and the Crimson Corsair independently navigated the star-studded labyrinth of the Dalmar Sector, a new piece of intelligence emerged, setting the stage for an unprecedented alliance. A lavish gala, hosted by a notorious crime lord known for his eccentricities and love for extravagant gatherings, was to be the hiding place of the coveted artifact. The only way to gain entry was through an invitation, and the most unobtrusive method was a double date.

Aboard the Midnight Mirage, the revelation caused a stir among the crew. Obi-Wan, his forehead creased in thought, weighed the options. "A gala... it's risky, but it may be our best chance," he mused aloud, his voice calm yet underscored with a trace of unease.

Plo, perceptive as always, noted the hesitation in his captain's voice. "It's not our usual approach, but we've handled worse. We just need the right... partners," he suggested, trying to gauge Obi-Wan's reaction.

Quinlan, leaning against the console, chuckled. "Never thought I'd see the day where we'd crash a party for a job. This'll be interesting," he said, his usual humor masking the underlying tension of the situation.

Mace, ever the realist, added, "We need to be careful. This crime lord isn't known for his hospitality. And who knows who else will be there."

Tholme nodded in agreement, his eyes scanning the room. "We'll need a solid exit strategy. Things could get complicated quickly."

Simultaneously, aboard the Crimson Corsair, Cody and his crew were deliberating the same situation. Cody stood with his arms crossed, his gaze distant as he processed the information. "A gala... it's unconventional, but it could work. We'll need to blend in seamlessly," he stated, his tone revealing a hint of reluctance.

Rex stepped forward, his strategic mind already at work. "We can pull it off, Captain. It's all about appearances. We just need the right cover," he said, his confidence unwavering.

Wolffe, ever cautious, interjected, "We should keep our guard up. This crime lord plays for keeps, and there's no telling who else might be after the artifact."

Ponds nodded, his hand subconsciously adjusting his blaster. "We'll need to watch each other's backs. More than usual."

Fives and Echo exchanged a knowing look, their thoughts in sync. "Let's make sure the Corsair is ready for a quick getaway. We don't want to overstay our welcome," Echo commented, a hint of dry humor in his voice.

As fate would have it, both crews, under the leadership of Obi-Wan and Cody, arrived at the same conclusion. A collaboration, though grudging, was necessary. The idea of working with another notorious pirate crew was fraught with tension and distrust, but the prize was too great to ignore.

The decision to collaborate was communicated through encrypted channels, each captain expressing their terms and conditions. There was a mutual understanding, an unspoken acknowledgment of each other's reputation and skill. The plan was set: they would enter the gala as two pairs of dates, blending in with the opulent crowd, all the while seeking the same elusive prize.

As preparations began, the air was thick with a mix of excitement and apprehension. Crew members from both ships, though seasoned in the art of space piracy, found themselves in unfamiliar territory. The prospect of working alongside former rivals added an edge to their preparations, a silent challenge hanging in the air.

In the depths of space, where alliances were as shifting as the stars, this uneasy collaboration between the Midnight Mirage and the Crimson Corsair was a testament to the allure of the artifact. It was a dance of shadows and deception, set against the backdrop of a gala that promised to be as dangerous as it was dazzling.

*** 

The atmosphere aboard the Midnight Mirage was charged with a mix of anticipation and uncertainty as they neared the time for the gala. Obi-Wan Kenobi, known for his measured decisions, faced a new kind of challenge in choosing a partner for the façade. His eyes scanned over his crew, each member ready to play their part in this intricate dance of deception.

Plo, Quinlan, Mace, and Tholme awaited his decision, their expressions a mix of eagerness and apprehension. "Captain, if I may," Plo began, his voice steady, "I've studied galactic etiquette and can navigate social intricacies. I believe I could be of use in this environment."

Obi-Wan regarded him, a thoughtful expression etching his features. Plo's skills were indeed valuable, but it was more than that; there was a trust built over countless adventures, a bond forged in the fires of space piracy. "Plo, your knowledge will be invaluable tonight. You'll accompany me," Obi-Wan decided, his voice carrying the finality of a captain's command yet softened by the respect he held for his first mate.

Plo nodded, a sense of pride mixed with the gravity of responsibility settling over him. The rest of the crew exchanged looks of quiet support, their confidence in Plo and their captain unspoken but palpable.

Meanwhile, aboard the Crimson Corsair, a similar scene unfolded. Cody stood amidst his crew, the decision of choosing a partner for the evening weighing on him. Rex, Wolffe, Ponds, Fives, and Echo stood ready, each capable and willing to take on the role.

Rex, his first mate, met Cody's gaze. "Captain, I'm ready to step in. But," he paused, glancing towards their co-pilot, "Wolffe has the finesse for this kind of mission. His experience in undercover operations could give us the edge we need."

Cody considered Rex's words. Wolffe, with his keen eye for detail and ability to blend into any situation, was indeed the ideal choice. "Wolffe, you're with me," Cody announced, his tone resolute. Wolffe nodded, a flicker of determination in his eyes. The rest of the crew rallied around their chosen representative, offering words of encouragement and last-minute advice.

Back on the Midnight Mirage, Obi-Wan and Plo were engaged in a detailed discussion of their approach. "Remember, subtlety is our ally tonight. We blend in, gather information, and stay alert," Obi-Wan instructed, his demeanor calm yet underscored with an undercurrent of intensity.

Plo absorbed every word, his mind racing with scenarios and strategies. "We'll make a good team, Captain. We always have," he responded, his confidence in their partnership evident.

On the Crimson Corsair, Cody and Wolffe were finalizing their plans. "We need to be in sync every step of the way. If things go south, we stick to the plan and adapt as necessary," Cody briefed, his eyes scanning the holographic layout of the gala.

Wolffe, ever the pragmatist, nodded in agreement. "I've got your back, Captain. We'll get in, find the artifact, and get out without drawing any unnecessary attention," he assured, his voice a bastion of steadiness.

As both crews prepared for the impending gala, a sense of camaraderie and resolve enveloped them. They were about to embark on a mission unlike any they had undertaken before, a mission that required not just their skills as pirates but as diplomats in a den of vipers. The Midnight Mirage and the Crimson Corsair, once solitary hunters in the vast ocean of stars, were now allies in a game of shadows and deception, with the galaxy's most elusive prize at stake.

*** 

In the dim light of the Midnight Mirage's strategy room, a holographic projection of the space station flickered into life, casting a blue glow over the faces of Obi-Wan and his crew. They gathered around, their eyes tracing the intricate layout of corridors, ballrooms, and hidden passages.

"Here," Obi-Wan pointed to a secluded section of the station, "is where the artifact is likely kept. Heavily guarded, no doubt."

Plo leaned in, his finger hovering over a different part of the hologram. "There's a service entrance here. Less conspicuous. It could serve as an exit route if we need a quick escape."

Obi-Wan nodded, his mind weaving through scenarios. "Quinlan, you and Mace will handle communications and surveillance. We need eyes and ears inside at all times."

Quinlan flashed a wry grin. "So, we're the eyes in the sky? Got it, Captain. Mace and I will make sure you dance through this without stepping on any toes."

Mace, her expression focused, added, "We'll keep the comms open. Any sign of trouble, and we're your lifeline."

Meanwhile, aboard the Crimson Corsair, a similar scene unfolded. Cody, Wolffe, Rex, and the rest of the crew huddled around their own holographic display. Cody's finger traced a path through the station's layout.

"Our main objective is here," he indicated a lavish hall at the center of the station. "But we need to blend in first. The gala will be swarming with the galaxy's most notorious figures."

Wolffe examined the map, his tactical mind assessing each potential hazard. "Rex, Ponds, you two will handle crowd control. Mingle, gather intel, and stay alert for any unusual activity."

Rex nodded, his demeanor serious. "We'll keep our ears to the ground. If anyone's heard rumors about the artifact, we'll know."

Ponds, his voice steady, chimed in. "Fives, Echo, you're on tech and logistics. Make sure our escape routes are clear and our gear is ready at a moment's notice."

Fives grinned, the thrill of the mission igniting a spark in his eyes. "Just another day at the office, huh, Echo?"

Echo's reply was a nod, his focus already on the task at hand. "We'll be ready for anything."

Back on the Midnight Mirage, Tholme was finalizing the technical details. "I've synced our comms to a secure channel. We won't have any unwanted listeners."

Obi-Wan surveyed his crew, a sense of pride mingling with the gravity of the mission. "Remember, we need to be discreet. This is a high-stakes game, and we're playing against some of the galaxy's most cunning minds."

The air was thick with a mix of anticipation and apprehension. Plo, sensing the tension, offered a reassuring smile. "We've faced worse odds. We've got this, Captain."

On the Crimson Corsair, the mood was similarly charged. Cody's eyes met each of his crew members', a silent message of trust and resolve passing between them. "We're more than just pirates tonight. We're players in a game that could change our fortunes forever."

The competitive Maceer, a staple of their interactions, took on a new edge as they prepared for the gala. Each jest, each quip, was a way to stave off the underlying tension, to remind themselves of the camaraderie that had carried them through countless dangers.

As the two ships made their final preparations, the vastness of space around them seemed to hold its breath. The Midnight Mirage and the Crimson Corsair, once lone hunters in the cosmic wilderness, were now unlikely allies, their paths converging in a dance of shadows and intrigue, with the enigmatic gala at the heart of their quest.

*** 

The night of the gala had arrived, a convergence of fate and strategy under the opulent dome of the space station. The *Midnight Mirage* and the *Crimson Corsair* docked discreetly, their crews ready to step into roles that were far from their usual. Dressed in disguises that masked their notorious identities, they blended into the galaxy's elite with a practiced ease.

Obi-Wan Kenobi, his usual rugged attire replaced by the sleek lines of high-class fashion, moved through the crowd with a graceful poise that belied his true nature. His eyes, sharp and observant beneath the facade, scanned the room, taking in the grandeur around him. The station's ballroom was a marvel of galactic architecture, with soaring ceilings that mirrored the night sky and walls adorned with exotic materials from distant worlds.

Cody, his demeanor equally transformed, stood beside Obi-Wan. His outfit, though elegant, couldn't completely conceal the soldier's bearing that defined him. He surveyed the room with a tactician's eye, noting exits, guards, and potential threats among the sea of guests.

Together, they navigated the gala, a ballet of subtlety and subterfuge. The air was thick with the perfumes of a thousand worlds, and the murmur of a hundred languages filled the space, a symphony of the galaxy's diversity.

Meanwhile, Wolffe and Plo, Obi-Wan's chosen companion for the evening, entered the fray. Wolffe, in his disguise, maintained a stoic calm, his eyes constantly on the move. Plo, in contrast, exuded a serene confidence, his demeanor that of a seasoned diplomat.

The guests were a tapestry of the galaxy's most colorful figures - politicians, merchants, adventurers, and those whose wealth and power transcended planetary boundaries. Alien species of all shapes and sizes mingled, their attire ranging from the elegantly simple to the extravagantly bizarre.

As Obi-Wan and Cody moved through the crowd, their interactions were a delicate dance of words and gestures. "Remember, we're not just looking for the artifact. We're looking for allies, information, anything that can give us an edge," Obi-Wan whispered under the guise of a casual conversation.

Cody nodded subtly, his reply masked by a sip of an exotic beverage. "And we need to keep an eye on each other's backs. We're not the only predators in this room," he murmured, his gaze briefly locking with a figure across the room whose gaze was a little too keen.

Wolffe and Plo, operating on the fringe of the gala, were an exercise in contrasts. Plo's gentle demeanor drew inquisitive glances and amiable chatter, while Wolffe's silent vigilance served as a discreet but effective deterrent to any who might probe too deeply.

The gala was more than a gathering; it was a nexus of power and intrigue, where each conversation was a potential clue, each glance a potential threat. The music, a haunting melody that echoed the mysteries of space, provided a backdrop to their mission.

Obi-Wan's mind was a whirlwind of observations and deductions, every detail noted and analyzed. Cody, equally vigilant, was a portrait of focus, his every sense attuned to the subtle undercurrents of the event.

As the evening progressed, the tension beneath the veneer of celebration grew. The artifact, the prize they all sought, was somewhere within these walls, a secret waiting to be unearthed in a den of opulence and danger. And in the heart of it all were Obi-Wan and Cody, two legendary pirates disguised as nobles, playing a game of shadows in a world that was as alien to them as the farthest reaches of the galaxy.

*** 

In the grand ballroom, where the galaxy's elite waltzed under the shimmering artificial stars, a subtle game of cat and mouse unfolded. Cody and Obi-Wan, having split from Wolffe and Plo, moved with a purpose disguised by the elegance of their façade.

Cody, leaning against a pillar, engaged a group of wealthy merchants in conversation. His words were laced with charm, each sentence carefully crafted to draw attention, to create a diversion. "And then, as the moons aligned, we discovered the rarest gem of the Oortas system," he regaled, his voice a melody of feigned bravado and adventure. The group hung on his every word, their laughter a cover for his true intentions.

Meanwhile, Obi-Wan, seizing the opportunity, slipped away from the crowd's view. His heart pounded in a rhythm that mirrored the subtle undercurrents of danger and excitement. Each step was measured, each glance calculated. He navigated the maze of corridors, his senses heightened, aware of every shadow, every sound.

Back at the gala, Cody's stories grew more extravagant, more enthralling. His eyes, however, remained vigilant, scanning the crowd for any signs of suspicion or interference. The merchants, intoxicated by his charisma, were oblivious to the orchestration of events.

Obi-Wan, now in the less frequented parts of the station, moved with the grace of a shadow. He encountered a few guards, but his disguise and the convincing air of belonging allowed him to pass without incident. His mind was a whirlpool of strategy and anticipation, every scenario played and replayed in the confines of his thoughts.

In a different part of the ballroom, Wolffe and Plo engaged in their own dance of distraction. Plo's charm was a gentle wave, lapping at the shores of the guests' curiosity, while Wolffe's silent presence was the rock against which any suspicion broke harmlessly.

The music swelled, a crescendo that mirrored the rising stakes. Obi-Wan found himself outside the chamber where the artifact was believed to be held. His hand hovered over the door's control panel, a moment of hesitation that was a rare occurrence for the seasoned pirate.

Meanwhile, Cody, sensing the climax of their plan was near, intensified his efforts. A flirtatious banter with a dignitary's daughter, a laugh shared with a boisterous trader, each interaction a brushstroke in the larger picture they were painting.

Obi-Wan's hand moved, and the door slid open silently. Inside, the chamber was dimly lit, its contents obscured by shadows. His eyes adjusted quickly, scanning for the artifact, aware that time was a luxury they didn't have.

Back at the gala, a sudden shift in the crowd's mood signaled that their ruse might soon be up. Cody, with the instinct of a predator, knew it was time to retreat. He excused himself with a charming smile and a promise to return, then melted into the crowd, moving towards the rendezvous point.

Obi-Wan, inside the chamber, finally laid eyes on the artifact. It was smaller than he had imagined, its surface reflecting the sparse light in mesmerizing patterns. As he reached out, a sense of triumph mixed with an uncharacteristic twinge of apprehension coursed through him.

In a symphony of carefully orchestrated movements and distractions, the teams began their withdrawal from the gala. Cody, Obi-Wan, Wolffe, and Plo converged, each aware that the hardest part of their mission was yet to come. The artifact, now in their possession, was a beacon that would draw all eyes to them.

As they regrouped, their eyes met in silent communication, a shared understanding of the stakes. They had infiltrated the heart of danger, played their parts in a theater of deceit, and emerged victorious. But the night was far from over, and the escape promised to be as treacherous as the acquisition. The dance of shadows continued, with the entire galaxy as their stage.

*** 

As the quartet converged in the dimly lit corridor, their triumph was palpable yet muted, overshadowed by the looming challenge of escape. Obi-Wan, holding the artifact securely, exchanged a glance with Cody. Their eyes spoke volumes – a shared acknowledgment of the mission's success and the impending danger.

Just as they began to coordinate their retreat, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the hall. The group tensed, their senses heightened. From the shadows emerged the crime lord and his entourage of heavily armed guards. His presence was as commanding as the legends that preceded him, his eyes sharp and calculating.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" the crime lord's voice was smooth, yet laced with a dangerous edge. He eyed the artifact in Obi-Wan's grasp, a predatory glint in his gaze.

Obi-Wan's mind raced, his years of experience in deception coming to the fore. "We were just admiring your collection," he said, his voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through him.

Cody stepped forward, his stance protective yet non-threatening. "It's a rare piece. We couldn't resist taking a closer look," he added, his words carefully chosen to avoid escalating the situation.

The crime lord circled them, his guards poised and alert. "A rare piece indeed. And one that's not for uninvited guests," he replied, his tone deceptively calm.

Wolffe and Plo remained silent but vigilant, their hands subtly inching towards their concealed weapons. The tension in the air was a tangible force, a prelude to a confrontation they all sought to avoid.

The crime lord stopped, his eyes locked on Obi-Wan. "You're not just any thieves. I recognize you, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and Commander Cody. Your reputations precede you." His words were a mix of admiration and menace.

Obi-Wan met his gaze, an undercurrent of respect in his response. "And you are a collector of rare treasures. This artifact would be safer in our hands."

The crime lord chuckled, a sound devoid of humor. "You overestimate your position, Kenobi. This is my domain, and you are at my mercy."

The standoff was a chess match of wills, each player calculating the risks and potential moves. Cody's mind worked furiously, assessing their options, the layout of the room, the positioning of the guards. Every second that passed was a second closer to an inevitable clash.

Wolffe's hand rested discreetly on his blaster, his eyes scanning for an opening, a weakness in the guards' formation. Plo, ever the diplomat, sought a peaceful resolution, his thoughts focused on de-escalating the tension.

"Perhaps we can come to an arrangement," Obi-Wan proposed, his voice a blend of confidence and caution.

The crime lord paused, considering. "I'm listening," he said, his interest piqued despite the undercurrent of suspicion.

Obi-Wan took a subtle step forward, his every word measured. "The galaxy is a dangerous place. An artifact like this could attract unwanted attention. We can ensure its safety, and in return, we ask for safe passage."

The crime lord's eyes narrowed, weighing the offer. The silence that followed was a battlefield of unspoken strategies and hidden agendas.

Cody, seizing the moment of distraction, gave a subtle nod to his crew. In a fluid, coordinated movement, they drew their weapons, the sudden action catching the guards off guard.

The ensuing chaos was a blur of motion and sound. Blaster fire lit the corridor, its echoes reverberating through the station. Obi-Wan and Cody, back-to-back, fought with a synergy born of mutual respect and necessity. Wolffe and Plo provided cover, their shots precise and calculated.

The crime lord, caught in the unexpected uprising, retreated with a snarl of frustration, his guards forming a protective circle around him.

In the midst of the chaos, Obi-Wan's thoughts were clear, focused. This was more than just a fight for survival; it was a testament to their resolve, their unwillingness to bow to the whims of tyranny.

Cody, his blaster a steady extension of his will, moved with a soldier's grace, each shot a statement of defiance against those who sought to claim power through fear and oppression.

As the last of the guards fell, the group made a dash for the exit, the artifact secured in Obi-Wan's grasp. They moved with the urgency of those who knew that every moment spent was a moment closer to capture or worse.

The corridor blurred past them, a tunnel leading to freedom, to survival. Behind them, the sounds of the gala continued, a stark contrast to the battle they had just waged. Ahead, lay their ships, their sanctuary in the vastness of space.

Together, Obi-Wan, Cody, Wolffe, and Plo raced towards escape, their hearts pounding a rhythm of adrenaline and triumph. They had faced the impossible, challenged the powerful, and emerged victorious. But the night was far from over, and the stars awaited their return, silent witnesses to the saga of pirates, artifacts, and the unyielding spirit of those who dared to defy the galaxy.

The corridors of the space station transformed into a labyrinth of danger as Obi-Wan, Cody, Wolffe, and Plo navigated their escape. The sounds of pursuit were a relentless drumbeat at their heels, a cacophony that spurred their adrenaline-fueled strides.

As they turned a corner, a squad of guards blocked their path. Without hesitation, the group sprang into action. Cody and Wolffe opened fire, providing cover while Obi-Wan and Plo engaged in close-quarters combat. Their movements were a fluid dance of offense and defense, honed by years of survival in the unforgiving expanse of space.

Obi-Wan's lightsaber hummed as it sliced through the air, deflecting blaster shots with an elegance that belied the intensity of the moment. Plo, moving with a deceptive calm, dispatched guards with precise, controlled strikes. The bond between them was palpable, a silent communication that spoke of deep trust and understanding.

Cody, his blaster never wavering, kept a protective eye on his companions. "This way!" he shouted, spotting an opening. They moved as one, a unit forged by necessity and hardened by danger.

The pursuit was relentless, more guards converging on their position. Their path to the docking bay was a gauntlet of obstacles, each turn bringing new challenges. Wolffe, ever vigilant, took down a guard attempting to flank them. His actions were instinctive, the result of countless battles fought side by side with his comrades.

As they neared the docking bay, the realization that they were not out of danger yet weighed heavily on them. The vastness of space awaited, but so did the ships of the crime lord, ready to give chase.

Once inside their ships, the Midnight Mirage and the Crimson Corsair, the tension shifted from physical confrontation to a battle of wits and piloting skill. Obi-Wan and Cody took the helms of their respective vessels, their hands steady despite the pounding of their hearts.

"Prepare for evasive maneuvers," Obi-Wan instructed, his voice calm over the ship's comm. The Midnight Mirage responded to his touch, veering into the vastness of space with the grace of a celestial bird in flight.

Cody, his expression one of fierce determination, mirrored the move in the Crimson Corsair. "Wolffe, keep an eye on our tail. We're not in the clear yet," he commanded, his eyes fixed on the starfield ahead.

The space around the station became a theater of pursuit, the ships of the crime lord's fleet hot on their trail. Laser fire streaked through the void, a deadly light show that threatened to end their escape prematurely.

Obi-Wan's mind raced, calculating trajectories and counter-maneuvers. The Midnight Mirage weaved through the onslaught, its engines roaring defiance against the odds. Beside him, Plo worked the controls with a focus born of countless hours of flight.

Cody, in the Crimson Corsair, executed a series of daring maneuvers, the ship twisting and turning through space with the agility of a predator. "Hang on!" he warned, as he pulled a particularly risky move that brought them dangerously close to an asteroid field.

The chase was a maelstrom of tension and skill, a test of their resolve and their ability to outthink and outfly their pursuers. Each evasion, each successful dodge, was a small victory, a step closer to freedom.

As the space station receded into the distance, the relentless pursuit began to wane. The crime lord's ships, unwilling or unable to navigate the treacherous asteroid field, fell back, leaving the Midnight Mirage and the Crimson Corsair to disappear into the starry expanse.

Inside the ships, relief washed over the crews in palpable waves. They had survived, against overwhelming odds. They shared looks of mutual respect and unspoken camaraderie, their bond strengthened by the ordeal they had endured together.

*** 

In the quiet aftermath of their daring escape, the crews of the *Midnight Mirage* and the *Crimson Corsair* gathered to behold the prize that had brought them together in an unlikely alliance. The artifact, now resting on a table in the *Midnight Mirage*'s main hold, seemed almost mundane in the dim light, its enigmatic surface betraying none of the perilous adventure it had incited.

Obi-Wan Kenobi and Commander Cody, standing side by side, surveyed the object. The rest of the crew, Wolffe, Plo, and the others, circled around, their expressions a mix of curiosity and contemplation.

"It's smaller than I expected," Cody remarked, his voice tinged with a blend of amusement and disappointment. His fingers hovered over the artifact, hesitant to touch yet drawn by an unspoken allure.

Obi-Wan, his eyes thoughtful, nodded in agreement. "It's not its size or appearance that matters. It's the power it supposedly holds," he mused, his gaze introspective. "Yet, I can't help but feel that its true value lies elsewhere."

The crew members exchanged glances, their post-mission adrenaline fading into a reflective silence. The artifact, for all its legendary status, was unremarkable to the eye, a stark contrast to the grand tales woven around it.

Wolffe stepped forward, his hand brushing against the artifact's surface. "We risked everything for this. Fought side by side with those we once called rivals," he said, his voice a rumble of deep thought.

Plo, ever the philosopher among them, added, "Perhaps the artifact's real power is not in what it is, but in what it brought out in us. Unity, cooperation, despite our differences."

The room fell into a contemplative hush, each person processing the weight of Plo's words. The artifact had indeed done something remarkable; it had united two disparate crews, two captains who had once navigated the stars as adversaries.

Obi-Wan turned to face Cody, a newfound respect evident in his demeanor. "Commander, this mission... it has shown me that even among the stars, where rivalry and danger are rife, there is room for unexpected alliances, for unity."

Cody met his gaze, a mirror of respect in his own eyes. "Agreed, Kenobi. We may walk different paths, but our journey tonight has proven that together, we can face challenges insurmountable alone."

The crew members, listening to their captains, felt a sense of pride swell within them. They had been part of something greater than a mere heist; they had been part of a testament to the strength found in unity.

The artifact, now almost forgotten in the wake of their realization, sat quietly, its secrets locked away. But the lesson it had inadvertently taught them shone brightly, a beacon of understanding in the vast, often divided galaxy.

As the two crews prepared to part ways, the atmosphere was no longer one of mere professional courtesy but of mutual respect and acknowledgment. They had shared a journey that had changed not just their perception of each other but of the broader universe in which they lived and fought.

Obi-Wan extended his hand to Cody, a gesture of camaraderie. "Until our paths cross again, Commander. May your journey be safe and your battles victorious."

Cody clasped his hand firmly. "And to you, Kenobi. May the stars light your way."

With a final nod to each other, the crews of the *Midnight Mirage* and the *Crimson Corsair* returned to their ships, their engines humming to life as they prepared to chart their courses back into the starry expanse. The artifact, a silent witness to their newfound bond, remained a mystery, its power transcendent in the unity it had inspired.

As the ships drifted apart, each crew member carried with them the memory of the night when rivals became allies, when the pursuit of an enigmatic prize led to a discovery far more valuable – the power of unity in the vast, endless galaxy.

**** 

As the *Midnight Mirage* and the *Crimson Corsair* charted their respective courses away from the space station, a sense of quiet introspection fell over both crews. The vastness of space, with its myriad stars and galaxies, seemed to hold them in a contemplative embrace.

Aboard the *Midnight Mirage*, Obi-Wan Kenobi stood at the helm, his eyes fixed on the endless expanse before him. The stars, once mere points of light in the great tapestry of the cosmos, now seemed to hold deeper meaning. The experience with Cody and his crew had shifted something fundamental in his understanding of the universe.

"Captain, course set for our next destination," Plo reported, his voice pulling Obi-Wan from his reverie.

Obi-Wan nodded, his mind still wrapped in the remnants of their recent adventure. "Thank you, Plo. Keep us on this trajectory," he replied, his tone distant yet composed.

As he gazed out into the void, his thoughts lingered on the camaraderie that had unexpectedly blossomed from rivalry. "We've always known the galaxy to be a place of conflict and competition. But this... this has shown us that even the fiercest of rivals can find common ground," he mused aloud.

Plo, standing beside him, nodded in agreement. "It's a rare thing, Captain. To find respect, perhaps even friendship, in the face of adversity."

Obi-Wan's lips curved in a thoughtful smile. "It gives me hope, Plo. That even in the darkest corners of space, there is potential for unity."

Meanwhile, aboard the *Crimson Corsair*, Commander Cody stood with a similar contemplative expression. The galaxy stretched out before him, a canvas of infinite possibilities and challenges.

"Course laid in, Captain. We're on our way," Wolffe announced, breaking the silence of the bridge.

Cody turned slightly, acknowledging his crewmate. "Thank you, Wolffe. Keep us steady," he replied, his voice carrying a newfound depth.

His gaze returned to the stars, and he found himself reflecting on the unexpected bond formed with Obi-Wan and his crew. "Who would have thought, Wolffe, that in chasing an artifact, we'd find something more valuable?" he said, the question rhetorical yet laden with significance.

Wolffe stepped closer, his demeanor one of respect and reflection. "It's a strange universe, Captain. Makes you wonder what other surprises are out there."

Cody's eyes remained fixed on the void. "Indeed, it does. It makes you reconsider what we know about alliances and rivalries. Perhaps the galaxy is more nuanced than we gave it credit for."

As both ships continued their journey through the stars, their paths diverging yet invisibly linked by their shared experience, the crews carried with them a profound sense of change. The rivalry that had once defined their interactions was now colored with respect and a recognition of shared humanity.

Obi-Wan and Cody, leaders and pirates, had glimpsed a truth often obscured in the chaos of galactic strife: that beneath the banners of conflict and competition, there lay the potential for understanding and camaraderie.

The vast galaxy, with its uncharted worlds and unexplored frontiers, seemed less daunting, knowing that even among rivals, there could be moments of unity and mutual respect. And as the *Midnight Mirage* and the *Crimson Corsair* sailed on, their courses charted under different stars, the memory of their alliance lingered, a testament to the unexpected friendships that could be forged in the depths of space.

"Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this interstellar escapade, reblog to share with fellow Star Wars fans. Your support means the galaxy to me! 🌟🚀

[star-wars-writing]

Thank you @tarxena and everyone who got me to 25 reblogs!

A Starship's Tale

A/N:Welcome, readers, to a tale set in the heart of the Clone Wars. This story is the tenth story for @codywanbingo with the prompt Sparring together, it explores the depths of emotion and connection in a time of conflict, focusing on the evolving relationship between Obi-Wan Kenobi and Commander Cody.

In the heart of the Republic starship, a realm dedicated to the preparation for battle, the training room echoed with a silence that spoke volumes. Here, amidst the cold metallic walls that had witnessed countless sessions of combat training, a different kind of encounter was unfolding. Obi-Wan Kenobi and Commander Cody, usually engaged in the elegant dance of lightsaber combat, now stood facing each other, prepared for a more primal form of confrontation – hand-to-hand combat.

The room, bathed in the sterile light of the ship's interior, felt smaller, more intimate with the absence of weapons. This was a space where the hum of the engines merged seamlessly with the distant, muffled sounds of the ship's crew, creating a backdrop of constant, unobtrusive motion. But within these walls, a different rhythm was about to commence – one dictated by the movements of two warriors stripped of their usual armaments.

Obi-Wan, devoid of his Jedi robes, wore a simple tunic and trousers that allowed for unrestricted movement. His stance was relaxed yet alert, the embodiment of a Jedi's controlled calm. His eyes, usually a wellspring of wisdom and serenity, now flickered with a focused intensity. In this close-quartered setting, every motion would be more immediate, every exchange a direct transfer of energy and intent.

Across from him, Cody, absent his customary armor, presented a figure of raw, disciplined strength. His muscular build, often concealed beneath the rigid plates of his battle attire, was now openly displayed, showcasing the physicality of a soldier. His stance was grounded, a reflection of his pragmatic approach to combat – direct, efficient, unyielding.

As they began, the air between them crackled with a palpable tension. This was not the elegant, sweeping motion of lightsaber duels, but the gritty, visceral reality of hand-to-hand combat. Each movement carried a weight of purpose; a lunge, a block, a feint, each action was a word in their silent dialogue.

Obi-Wan, employing the techniques of Teras Kasi, moved with a fluid grace that belied the power behind his strikes. His approach was one of balance and harmony, each motion flowing into the next, a seamless chain of offense and defense. He was like water – yielding yet forceful, adapting to each new challenge with fluid precision.

Cody, in contrast, embodied the directness of military hand-to-hand combat training. His moves were sharp and decisive, each strike a testament to his focus and determination. He was like a storm – relentless, powerful, each motion a burst of controlled aggression.

Their dance was a juxtaposition of styles, a testament to their different paths – the Jedi and the soldier. Yet, within this contrast lay a deep-seated mutual respect, a recognition of each other's strengths and abilities. As they exchanged blows, parrying and countering with increasing intensity, there was an undercurrent of something deeper, a connection that transcended the physicality of their sparring.

Obi-Wan's attacks, though measured and precise, carried an unspoken question with each strike, probing not just Cody's defenses but the barriers he had erected around himself. Cody's counters, forceful yet controlled, were his response – a silent admission of the turmoil within, a turmoil that resonated with the emotions Obi-Wan himself was grappling with.

Their exchanges grew more intense, sweat beading on their foreheads, muscles straining under the exertion. In this dance, each touch, each moment of contact, was an exploration – not just of physical boundaries, but of emotional ones. The space between them was charged with an unspoken dialogue, a conversation of pushes and pulls, advances and retreats.

As the session drew to a close, they stood, breaths heavy, gazes locked. In that moment, the training room, with its stark walls and echoing stillness, transformed into a confessional, a space where unspoken truths lingered on the brink of revelation. The understanding in their eyes was clear – they were not just comrades in arms, but two souls navigating the complexities of connection amidst the backdrop of war.

They parted with a nod, a mutual acknowledgment of the uncharted territory they had

just ventured into. The physical distance they put between themselves as they exited the training room did little to dispel the newfound proximity of their inner worlds. In the silence that followed their departure, the training room stood as a silent witness to the shift in their relationship, a shift marked not by grand gestures or declarations, but by the subtle language of body and glance, a language as old as time itself.

Obi-Wan, his thoughts a swirling vortex, retreated to the solitude of his quarters. The physical exertion of the session had done little to tire him; instead, it had ignited a deeper introspection. He pondered over the revelations the session had brought forth, the unexpected stirrings of emotion that Cody had unknowingly awakened. It was a path fraught with uncertainty, one that challenged the very foundations of his beliefs and his adherence to the Jedi code.

Meanwhile, Cody, his usual disciplined facade slightly cracked, found himself in the vastness of the ship's observation deck. Gazing out into the star-studded expanse of space, he contemplated the tumultuous feelings that had been stirred. The straightforward, uncomplicated existence of a soldier, once his only reality, now seemed inadequate to contain the complexity of his emotions. The experience with Obi-Wan had opened a door he had long kept shut, revealing a landscape of potential and peril that extended far beyond the battlefield.

In the days that followed, their interactions were marked by a new depth, a subtle shift in dynamics that did not go unnoticed by those around them. The soldiers, perceptive in their own right, observed the change with a mix of curiosity and respect. Whispers and speculative glances were exchanged, but the unspoken code of the ship ensured that their privacy remained intact.

Obi-Wan and Cody continued their training sessions, each encounter a further exploration of their evolving relationship. The physicality of their sparring became a metaphor for their emotional journey – a journey of discovery, understanding, and, perhaps most daunting of all, vulnerability.

In the midst of a galaxy torn by war, aboard a starship sailing through the endless night, two souls found themselves at the precipice of a profound connection. It was a connection that defied convention and expectation, a testament to the unpredictable nature of the heart and the indomitable spirit of connection that can flourish even in the most unlikely of places.

The training room aboard the Republic starship was a symphony of controlled chaos, its metallic walls reverberating with the sounds of clashing and grunting. In the center, Obi-Wan Kenobi and Commander Cody, surrounded by a ring of soldiers, were locked in an intense hand-to-hand sparring session. The air was thick with tension, a tangible undercurrent to the usual rhythm of their training.

Obi-Wan, his movements fluid and precise, was the picture of Jedi calm. Yet, beneath this composed exterior, a storm of emotions raged, stirred by the recent shift in his relationship with Cody. Each block and parry carried a weight beyond physical training; it was a dance of unspoken words and suppressed feelings.

Cody, on the other hand, was a maelstrom of focus and intensity. His usual stoic demeanor was cracked, revealing a depth of emotion that rarely surfaced. The commander's strikes were sharp, a little too forceful, betraying the inner conflict he wrestled with.

The soldiers around them watched with a mix of awe and curiosity. They were used to seeing their leaders spar, but today, there was an electric charge in the air, a sense that something significant was unfolding before their eyes.

“Good, Cody. But remember, control,” Obi-Wan advised, parrying a particularly aggressive jab. His voice was steady, but his eyes, usually a wellspring of calm, flickered with a complex mix of concern and something deeper, harder to discern.

Cody grunted in acknowledgment, his expression hardening. The next exchange was fast, a blur of movement and power. In a swift motion, Cody broke through Obi-Wan's defense, pushing him back with unexpected force.

The room fell silent as Obi-Wan stumbled, barely catching himself. A look of surprise crossed his face, quickly replaced by one of understanding. He locked eyes with Cody, seeing the turmoil there, the unspoken apology, the fear.

Cody stepped back, his chest heaving. The intensity of his gaze wavered, a silent battle raging behind his eyes. Then, without a word, he turned and walked out of the training room, leaving a wake of stunned silence.

Obi-Wan watched him go, a myriad of emotions crossing his face. The other soldiers exchanged glances, their respect for their commanders mingled with a newfound curiosity about the dynamics at play.

“Resume training,” Obi-Wan finally said, his voice betraying none of the turmoil he felt. The soldiers hesitated for a moment before obeying, the rhythm of training resuming, but the atmosphere had shifted irrevocably.

As Obi-Wan engaged with another soldier, his movements were automatic, his mind elsewhere. He was acutely aware of the absence of Cody, of the unsaid things hanging between them like stars in the vastness of space. The session ended with routine efficiency, but the questions it raised lingered, unspoken but heavy in the air.

Later, in the quiet of his quarters, Obi-Wan sat in contemplation. The events of the day replayed in his mind, each moment a clue to the puzzle that was Cody. He knew he had to address what had happened, to bridge the gap that had opened between them. But the path forward was unclear, obscured by duty, the Jedi code, and the uncharted territory of his own heart.

*** 

In the days following their intense sparring session, the Republic starship felt like a world subtly altered, its corridors and common areas echoing with a new, unspoken narrative. Commander Cody, once a steadfast presence, became a shadow of his former self, his interactions with the crew and, most notably, with Obi-Wan Kenobi, marked by a stark transformation.

Cody, whose demeanor had always been an embodiment of discipline and efficiency, now moved through the ship like a ghost, his steps devoid of their usual purpose. His exchanges with the crew were brief, his words clipped, devoid of the warmth that had occasionally flickered in his interactions. In briefings, his reports were concise, lacking the insightful comments he was known for. He became a soldier wearing the armor of detachment, his gaze often drifting to a distant point, as if he were looking at something far beyond the ship's confines.

Obi-Wan, sensitive to the undercurrents of emotion, watched this change with a deepening concern. He noticed how Cody's eyes would briefly meet his before darting away, as if the contact was too much to bear. In the mess hall, Cody chose seats in the corners, away from the lively banter of the clone troopers, his meals consumed quickly, almost mechanically.

The change did not go unnoticed by the crew. Whispers circulated, a blend of speculation and worry. They respected Commander Cody, and seeing him so withdrawn sparked a ripple of unease. The clones, in particular, felt a sense of disquiet, their camaraderie with Cody having been a constant in their regimented lives.

In the solitude of his quarters, Cody grappled with the tempest within him. The walls, adorned with the sparse decorations of a military life, felt constricting, a physical manifestation of the turmoil in his mind. He was torn between the discipline that had defined his existence and the surge of emotions that the recent encounters with Obi-Wan had unleashed. His mind replayed their sparring session, each moment a reminder of the unspoken truths that lay between them.

The conflict within Cody was not just about breaking protocol or defying the expectations of a clone commander. It was deeper, a fundamental questioning of his identity, his purpose. The feelings for Obi-Wan, so starkly brought to light, were at odds with everything he had been taught to value – order, duty, the mission.

Meanwhile, Obi-Wan found himself in a state of introspection, his usual clarity clouded by the complexity of his emotions. In the quiet of his quarters, he pondered over the right course of action. His training as a Jedi Master had always provided a roadmap for dealing with conflicts, both external and internal. Yet, this situation with Cody, it was uncharted territory, a delicate balance of personal feelings and the responsibilities of his role.

Obi-Wan realized that the bond he shared with Cody had evolved, morphing into something deeper, something that defied the simple categorization of friendship or comradeship. He acknowledged, perhaps for the first time, that his concern for Cody transcended the boundaries of their professional relationship.

The decision to reach out to Cody came after much deliberation. Obi-Wan understood that any conversation they had would be fraught with vulnerability, but the growing chasm between them was a risk to both their well-being and their ability to function effectively as a team.

Choosing a quiet evening, when the ship's activities had wound down to the slow hum of routine, Obi-Wan made his way to Cody's quarters. Standing before the door, he took a moment to compose himself, to find the balance between the Jedi Master and the man who cared deeply for the person on the other side of the door.

He pressed the buzzer, the sound a soft chime in the corridor's stillness. The door slid open, revealing Cody, his expression one of guarded surprise.

"Cody,

may I come in?" Obi-Wan asked, his voice carrying a calmness that belied the turmoil within.

Cody hesitated, his posture rigid, the lines of his face drawn tight with an unspoken struggle. After a moment that stretched like a chasm, he stepped aside, a silent assent.

Obi-Wan entered, his eyes taking in the starkness of the room, a reflection of the discipline and order that defined Cody's life. The air felt heavy, charged with the unvoiced thoughts that hung between them.

"Cody, we need to talk," Obi-Wan began, his words deliberate, each one chosen with care. "I've noticed you've been distant since our last sparring session. Is everything alright?"

Cody turned away, his gaze fixed on the small viewport that offered a view of the endless expanse of space. "I'm fine, sir," he replied, the formality of his tone a barrier he erected between them.

Obi-Wan took a step closer, his voice softening. "Cody, you don't have to call me 'sir' here. This isn't about rank or protocol. This is about you, about us."

Cody's shoulders tensed, the muscles beneath his shirt bunching with the effort to maintain control. "There's nothing to discuss, General. I'm just focusing on my duties," he said, but his voice betrayed a hint of uncertainty, a crack in the armor he had so carefully constructed.

Obi-Wan sighed, a deep, weary exhalation. "I know you, Cody. I've seen you in battle, seen you face impossible odds with courage and determination. But this," he gestured vaguely between them, "this isn't something you can fight or strategize your way through."

Cody finally turned, his eyes meeting Obi-Wan's. In them, there was a storm of emotions - conflict, fear, and something else, something that mirrored the feelings Obi-Wan himself harbored. "It's not that simple, Obi-Wan. You of all people should know that. Our lives, our duties, they don't leave room for... for this."

Obi-Wan nodded, acknowledging the truth in Cody's words. "I know the constraints we both live under. But denying what we feel, burying it under duty and obligation, that's not the answer. We're more than just a Jedi and a clone commander. We're people, Cody, with emotions and needs that go beyond our roles."

The room fell silent, the tension between them a palpable force. Cody looked away, a silent battle raging within him. Obi-Wan waited, giving him the space to process, to find the words that seemed to elude him.

Finally, Cody spoke, his voice low and strained. "What are you saying, Obi-Wan? That we should just forget who we are, forget the rules that govern our lives?"

"No," Obi-Wan replied gently. "I'm saying that sometimes, we have to look beyond the rules, listen to what our hearts are telling us. I can't pretend that I don't feel something more for you, Cody. And I believe, I hope, that you might feel the same."

Cody's facade cracked, the soldier's discipline giving way to the man's vulnerability. "I don't know what to do with these feelings, Obi-Wan. They go against everything I've been trained for, everything I've believed in."

Obi-Wan reached out, placing a hand on Cody's shoulder, a gesture of support and connection. "We'll figure it out together. We don't have to have all the answers now. All I'm asking is that we acknowledge what's between us, give it a chance to be more than just unspoken words and hidden glances."

Cody's resistance waned, the weight of his internal struggle lessening under the understanding and compassion in Obi-Wan's eyes. He nodded slowly, a silent acknowledgment of the journey they were about to embark on, one fraught with uncertainty but also filled with the promise of something profound and transformative.

As Obi-Wan left Cody's quarters, there was a sense of a door opening, a new chapter in their lives beginning. The ship, with its metallic corridors and hum of activity, felt less like a vessel hurtling through space and more like

a witness to the unfolding of something deeply human, a narrative that transcended the usual boundaries of duty and rank.

In the quiet that followed, Cody stood alone, the echo of Obi-Wan's words lingering in the room like a new kind of music, one that resonated with the unexplored parts of his heart. He gazed out into the cosmos, the stars a tapestry of possibilities, mirroring the uncharted territory of his emotions. For the first time, he allowed himself to consider a future where his feelings could have a place, where the strict lines of his existence could blur into something richer, more colorful.

Meanwhile, Obi-Wan walked through the corridors with a sense of purpose, his steps lighter, his mind clearer. The conversation with Cody had been a risk, but it was a risk born of necessity, of the need to acknowledge the truth that had been silently growing between them. He felt a sense of relief, a weight lifted, knowing that the path ahead, though uncertain, was one they had chosen to walk together.

The crew, sensing the subtle shift in their commanders, watched with a mixture of curiosity and respect. The clones, in particular, saw in Cody a reflection of their own struggles with identity and purpose. In Obi-Wan, they saw a leader who valued the individual, who understood that beneath the armor and robes, there were hearts beating with desires and dreams.

In the following days, the dynamic between Obi-Wan and Cody subtly changed. Their interactions were tinged with a new depth, a mutual understanding that spoke of shared secrets and unspoken promises. They continued their duties with the same dedication and skill, but there was an undercurrent of something more, a connection that had deepened, becoming something integral to their existence.

Their training sessions, once a routine part of their regimen, took on a new significance. They were no longer just exercises in combat skills but moments of connection, opportunities to explore the balance between strength and vulnerability, discipline and emotion.

In this galaxy torn by conflict and strife, aboard a starship navigating the endless expanse of space, Obi-Wan Kenobi and Commander Cody found themselves at the beginning of a journey not just of war and strategy, but of self-discovery and connection. It was a journey that defied the norms, that challenged the conventions of their lives, but in its defiance, it offered a glimpse of something truly extraordinary – the power of understanding, empathy, and the courage to face the unknown, together.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are deeply appreciated. Your support inspires me to keep writing!

[star-wars-writing]

Ripples of Serenity - follow up In Sickness and in health

A/N: Hey guys, a small follow up from the one shot "in sickness and in health" I hope you'll like it. this was my free card for the @codywanbingo, where I came up with the prompt: Body Pillow. It's not my best one, but I still thought it was nice to share this. Hope you'll like it.

As twilight descended upon Coruscant, the Room of a Thousand Fountains transformed into a tapestry woven with the tranquil hues of evening. Shadows and light played a delicate dance across the water, each fountain casting its own fluid, shimmering ballet upon the ancient stones and verdant flora. The air, rich with the scent of damp earth and blossoming night-blooms, carried the symphony of water - a chorus of gentle splashes, serene trickles, and soft gurgles that whispered secrets of ancient Jedi who once sought solace here.

In this hallowed space, the chaos of the galaxy seemed like a distant echo, a forgotten storm beyond the serenity of these walls. The fountains, with their never-ending flow, spoke of timelessness, of moments captured and held in the embrace of the Force. The light of Coruscant’s setting sun filtered through the high, arched windows, casting a kaleidoscope of golds and ambers across the cobblestone paths, turning them into rivers of molten light.

Here, amid the harmony of nature and the crafted elegance of the Jedi Temple, lay Obi-Wan Kenobi and Commander Cody. Removed from the clatter of armor and the weight of sabers, they were but two souls adrift in a sea of tranquility. Obi-Wan, his head resting gently on Cody’s stomach, lay ensconced in the commander's warmth. The rise and fall of Cody’s breathing was a soothing rhythm, a living pulse beneath Obi-Wan’s ear.

Cody's fingers, calloused yet tender, wove through Obi-Wan's hair with a rhythm as ancient as the stars. Each stroke was a wordless verse, a tactile whisper against the Jedi's temple. In these motions lay unspoken stories, tales of battles fought and burdens shared, now melting into the quietude of this sanctuary.

The surrounding greenery, lush and vibrant even as night approached, rustled softly in the gentle breeze, like discreet onlookers to this display of quiet intimacy. The water lilies, floating serenely on the surface of the nearest pool, seemed to glow ethereally in the dimming light, their petals delicate witnesses to the bond shared between the Jedi and the soldier.

Above, the first stars of the evening began to peek through the dusky sky, their light reflecting in the myriad pools, creating a celestial mirror that echoed the vastness of the galaxy, yet felt as intimate as the space between two intertwined hearts. In this moment, within the Room of a Thousand Fountains, time and duty stood still, held at bay by the simple, profound act of one man finding shelter in another's embrace.

*** 

In the hallowed serenity of the Room of a Thousand Fountains, beneath the velvety embrace of twilight, Obi-Wan Kenobi lay in contemplative stillness, his head cradled upon the rhythmic, life-affirming rise and fall of Commander Cody's stomach. Here, amidst the symphony of gently cascading waters and the subtle, sweet fragrance of night-blooming flowers, the tumultuous echoes of the Clone Wars seemed like distant whispers, relics of a past both harrowing and heroic.

As Obi-Wan lay there, his senses attuned to the comforting warmth of Cody's presence, his mind wove through the intricate tapestry of their shared history. The war, a saga of light and shadow that had defined much of their existence, now rested in the annals of history, a story of victory hard-won and sacrifices deeply felt. In the quiet aftermath, as the galaxy inched towards a semblance of peace, they found themselves navigating a world that was, at once, familiar and utterly transformed.

Obi-Wan's thoughts danced around the nuances of their relationship, a bond forged in the crucible of conflict and solidified in the stillness of peace. Cody, once a commander under his command, had become so much more—a confidant, a pillar of strength, a companion who had stood unwaveringly by his side through trials that would have broken lesser men. In the ebb and flow of war, amidst the chaos of battles and the burden of leadership, they had discovered in each other an unspoken understanding, a resonance that transcended the mere camaraderie of soldiers.

"The war is over, but its echoes linger," Obi-Wan mused, his voice a soft murmur harmonizing with the ambient chorus of the fountains. "Yet, here, in this moment, there is a peace that feels almost... unfamiliar."

Cody's hand, moving in slow, deliberate strokes through Obi-Wan's hair, was a tactile testament to the depth of their connection. "We've spent so long amidst turmoil, Obi-Wan," Cody's voice rumbled gently, a soothing vibration against Obi-Wan's cheek. "Finding peace... it's like rediscovering a forgotten language."

Indeed, the peace they now experienced was an intricate language to decipher—a language of stillness, of shared silences that spoke volumes, of understanding and acceptance found not in the heat of battle but in the quiet aftermath. Obi-Wan realized that their journey together had evolved, unfurling layers of companionship and trust that went beyond the mandates of duty and the rigors of war.

In the gentle cadence of Cody's breathing and the soft caress of his fingers, Obi-Wan found a solace that the roar of battle and the solemn halls of the Jedi Temple had seldom afforded. There was a simplicity to their interactions in this newfound peace, a simplicity that belied the complexity of emotions that ran like undercurrents between them—respect, admiration, and perhaps, something deeper, an uncharted territory they were only beginning to explore.

As the last vestiges of daylight surrendered to the embrace of night, Obi-Wan felt a profound gratitude envelop him—a gratitude for the peace they had achieved for the galaxy and for the peace they had found in each other's company. In Cody, he saw not just the stalwart soldier, the loyal commander, but a man of depth and resilience, a man whose presence had become an integral part of his own existence.

Lying there, in the embrace of the Room of a Thousand Fountains, Obi-Wan Kenobi allowed himself to simply be—to be present in the moment, to be receptive to the quiet joys of peace, and to be open to the myriad possibilities that lay ahead in this new chapter of their lives. For in the tranquil heart of the Jedi Temple, amidst the eternal dance of light and water, he and Commander Cody had found a sanctuary, a haven where the whispers of the past melded with the murmurs of a future yet to be written.

*** 

In the dwindling light, the Room of a Thousand Fountains became a realm of half-shadows and whispers, a place where time seemed to slow, allowing moments to expand and fill the space with their unspoken significance. Commander Cody, his fingers gently traversing the landscape of Obi-Wan Kenobi's hair with a tenderness that belied his warrior's hands, found himself lost in a sea of introspection.

Each stroke of his fingers was a silent language, a means of conveying what words often could not. In the soft, chestnut strands slipping through his fingers, he felt a connection that went beyond the physical—a bond that had been forged in the fires of war and tempered in the stillness of peace. As he gazed down at Obi-Wan, whose eyes were closed in serene trust, a profound sense of protectiveness welled within him.

Cody's life had been one of orders and duty, a path defined by the rigid structure of the military. Yet, in Obi-Wan, he had found an unexpected anchor, a presence that had gently nudged him towards depths of understanding and feeling he had never anticipated. The Jedi had become more than a General to him, more than a symbol of the Order he had vowed to serve. Obi-Wan had become a guiding star in the vast expanse of Cody's existence, illuminating paths not just of strategy and combat, but of empathy, introspection, and the complex nuances of the human heart.

"You always seem to find peace so easily," Cody remarked, his voice a low rumble, rich with warmth and a hint of wonder. "Even in the midst of chaos, you've always had this... this center of calm."

Obi-Wan opened his eyes, turning his gaze upwards to meet Cody's. In them, Cody saw a reflection of his own thoughts, a shared understanding that transcended the need for words. "You've helped me find it," Obi-Wan replied, his voice soft yet resonant in the quiet of the room. "In you, I've found not just a comrade in arms but a source of strength. Your steadfastness, your loyalty... they've been a light in some of my darkest moments."

Cody's hand paused in its motion, a wave of emotion washing over him. To be seen in such a light by Obi-Wan, to be valued not just for his role as a Commander but for the essence of who he was, felt both humbling and uplifting. He had always viewed Obi-Wan as a pillar of strength, a bastion of the Jedi ideals of peace and justice. Yet, in their shared journey, he had come to see the man behind the myth, a man capable of deep compassion, profound wisdom, and, perhaps most importantly, a vulnerability that he entrusted only to a few.

"It's been an honor, Obi-Wan," Cody said, his voice thick with unspoken emotions. "To fight alongside you, to learn from you... it's changed me in ways I'm still trying to understand."

Obi-Wan's hand reached up, covering Cody's where it rested in his hair, a gesture of mutual respect and connection. "We've changed each other, Cody. You've shown me perspectives I might have otherwise never seen. You've taught me as much as I could ever hope to teach."

In the quietude of the fountains, with the veil of night drawing close, their conversation unfolded like a gentle stream, meandering through topics both profound and mundane. Each word, each shared silence, was a testament to the depth of their bond, a bond that had grown in the shadows of war but now flourished in the peace they had both fought so hard to achieve.

As stars began to speckle the sky above, visible through the high glass dome of the room, Cody and Obi-Wan remained in their sanctuary of stillness and water. Here, they were not just a Jedi and a Commander; they were two souls who had found in each other a kindred spirit, a companion with whom the trials of the past and the uncertainties of the future could be faced with a quiet, unshakeable confidence. In each other, they had found not just an ally in battle, but a partner in the journey of life, a journey they continued to navigate with an enduring bond that was as deep as the fathomless depths of space, and as enduring as the timeless dance of the stars.

*** 

As the Room of a Thousand Fountains embraced the night, casting a tapestry of shadow and luminescence across its serene expanse, Obi-Wan Kenobi and Commander Cody found themselves adrift in a sea of contemplation, their conversation meandering into the realm of future dreams and aspirations.

The gentle cadence of water playing against stone provided a soothing backdrop to their dialogue, a harmonic counterpoint to the depth and weight of their words. Obi-Wan, his head still resting on the comforting landscape of Cody’s stomach, felt the vibrations of the commander’s voice resonate through him, a tangible manifestation of their connection.

“You know,” Obi-Wan began, his voice a soft murmur in the tranquility of their haven, “I’ve been thinking about taking on another Padawan. The Order will need to rebuild, and there are so many young ones who could benefit from guidance.”

Cody’s hand, which had been tracing idle patterns in Obi-Wan’s hair, stilled at the words. He felt a surge of pride at the thought, mixed with an undercurrent of something akin to apprehension. The war had changed them all, and the idea of Obi-Wan shaping a new generation of Jedi was both a testament to his resilience and a reminder of the inexorable passage of time.

“It’s a big responsibility,” Cody said, his tone thoughtful. “But one I know you’re more than capable of handling. You have so much to offer, Obi-Wan. Your wisdom, your strength…”

Obi-Wan turned slightly, his blue eyes reflecting the starlight that filtered through the room’s vast dome. “It’s not a decision I take lightly. But in these young minds, I see hope. I see a chance to impart not just the teachings of the Force, but the lessons we’ve learned throughout this war. Lessons of compassion, of understanding, of seeing beyond the black-and-white dichotomies of right and wrong.”

Cody listened, each word sinking in, weaving a tapestry of possibility and potential. “And what of us?” he asked, a hint of vulnerability lacing his words. “With the clones and Jedi now living alongside each other, there’s a new world unfolding before us.”

Obi-Wan’s expression softened, a tender smile playing on his lips. “I believe our bond will only grow stronger in this new world. We’ve stood together through the darkest of times; now, we have a chance to build something. Together.”

The word hung in the air between them, a promise, a vow of shared tomorrows. Cody felt a warmth spread through him, a feeling that went beyond the physical proximity of their bodies. It was a warmth that spoke of partnership, of a shared path that extended beyond the battlefield, beyond the mandates of the Jedi or the duties of a commander.

“We could help shape this new era,” Cody said, his voice imbued with a sense of wonder. “Guide it towards a future where understanding and cooperation are the cornerstones.”

Obi-Wan nodded, his gaze fixed on the stars above. “A future where the scars of war give way to healing and growth. Where we, as individuals and as a galaxy, learn from our past to create a better tomorrow.”

The room, with its timeless dance of water and light, seemed to echo their sentiments, a silent witness to the dreams being woven within its walls. As the night deepened, Obi-Wan and Cody allowed themselves to drift in this sea of possibilities, each shared dream a building block for a future they would navigate together.

In that moment, the uncertainties of their paths seemed less daunting, overshadowed by the certainty of their bond. They were two souls, once thrown together by the tides of war, now choosing to walk side by side into the dawning era. Their journey, marked by battles fought and hardships endured, was also a journey of growth, of discovery, and, ultimately, of unwavering companionship.

And as they lay there, under the canopy of the cosmos, dreaming of what the future might hold, Obi-Wan and Cody knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, they would face them together, their bond a guiding light in the uncharted waters of the galaxy’s future.

**** 

In the tranquil cocoon of the Room of a Thousand Fountains, under the cloak of Coruscant's night sky, a playful energy began to percolate between Obi-Wan Kenobi and Commander Cody. The solemnity of their earlier conversation had given way to a lighter mood, the air now ripe with the possibility of mischief.

Obi-Wan, feeling a surge of impishness, glanced sideways at Cody with a glint in his eye. "You know, Commander," he said, his voice laced with mock seriousness, "I've often wondered how well your clone training prepared you for unexpected aquatic situations."

Cody raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Aquatic situations, General?" he queried, playing along. "I assure you, we clones are prepared for all eventualities."

With a sudden, fluid movement, surprising for a man of his contemplative nature, Obi-Wan rolled, attempting to leverage Cody off-balance. The commander, caught off guard but quick to react, grappled with Obi-Wan, a laugh escaping him. "This is your idea of testing my training?"

The struggle, more playful than earnest, saw them rolling closer to the edge of one of the room's many pools. The water, reflecting the starlight from above, beckoned enticingly. As they jostled, their laughter echoing off the stone walls, it became a dance of sorts—a tussle between two warriors who had faced the gravest dangers yet now found themselves engaged in a battle of wits and play.

With a final, coordinated effort that spoke of their deep understanding and impeccable teamwork, both men tumbled into the pool with a resounding splash. The water enveloped them in its cool embrace, ripples cascading outwards, disturbing the tranquil surface.

Surfacing, Obi-Wan and Cody burst into hearty laughter, the sound bright and unburdened. Cody shook his head, droplets of water flinging from his short-cropped hair. "Well, General, I must concede, your methods are unorthodox, but effective."

Obi-Wan, floating leisurely, looked up at the night sky visible through the glass dome. "Sometimes, unorthodox methods yield the best results," he replied, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

The shared laughter, the unexpected plunge, had transformed the mood from contemplative to joyous, a physical manifestation of the ease and comfort they found in each other's presence. In that moment, they were not the storied Jedi General and his loyal Commander; they were simply Obi-Wan and Cody, two souls who had found in each other a kindred spirit, capable of finding joy amidst the remnants of war.

Soaked and still chuckling, they swam to the edge of the pool, their movements languid and relaxed. As they pulled themselves out, sitting on the edge with their feet still dipped in the water, the serenity of the room embraced them once more.

This spontaneous moment of levity, a brief interlude of carefree playfulness, was a reminder of the resilience of their bond. It spoke of a relationship that had weathered the fiercest storms, yet still found space for laughter and light-heartedness. In the Room of a Thousand Fountains, amidst the gentle sounds of water and the whisper of the night wind, Obi-Wan and Cody shared a moment of pure, unadulterated joy, a testament to the enduring strength and depth of their connection.

Drenched and still emanating the warmth of shared laughter, Obi-Wan Kenobi and Commander Cody made their way out of the Room of a Thousand Fountains. Each step echoed softly in the vast corridors of the Jedi Temple, their wet clothes clinging to them, a physical reminder of their spontaneous plunge into the pool. The cool air of the corridor brushed against their skin, contrasting with the lingering warmth of the water, creating an almost ethereal sensation.

As they walked side by side, a comfortable silence enveloped them, a silence that spoke volumes. It was a testament to the profound bond they shared, a bond that had deepened and evolved, transcending the roles of Jedi and Commander. In the quiet of their walk, their eyes would meet, a silent exchange of understanding and appreciation passing between them. Each glance was a conversation in itself, conveying trust, respect, and a shared history that had woven their lives inexorably together.

The subtle nuances of their non-verbal communication - a slight smile, a raised eyebrow, a nod - were their own language, developed over years of companionship. It was a language born out of necessity in the heat of battle but had flourished in the quieter moments like these. In the way Obi-Wan's eyes crinkled at the corners with genuine affection, or how Cody's posture relaxed completely in Obi-Wan's presence, there was an entire spectrum of emotion and thought conveyed without a single word.

As they approached their quarters, the weight of their soaked garments seemed to anchor them in the present moment, a reminder of the spontaneity that life could still hold. It was these moments, unexpected and unscripted, that had become a vital part of their relationship, strengthening the trust and intimacy that had grown between them.

Inside the privacy of their shared quarters, they moved with an ease and familiarity that spoke of countless shared experiences. There was a rhythm to their actions, a choreographed dance they had mastered over time. As they shed their wet clothes, their movements were respectful yet intimate, a delicate balance between personal boundaries and the comfort they found in each other's presence.

In the quiet of the room, as they changed into dry garments, the air was filled with an unspoken promise - a promise of continued support, of shared futures, and of a bond that would endure whatever trials the galaxy might throw their way. This promise was not articulated in words but was understood and felt deeply by both men.

The tranquility of the evening, punctuated by their shared escapade, had not only provided a respite from their duties but had also served to reinforce the depth of their connection. In this space, away from the eyes of the galaxy, they were not defined by their titles or responsibilities. Here, they were simply Obi-Wan and Cody, two individuals who had found in each other an unwavering ally, a confidant, and a source of unanticipated joy.

As they prepared to retire for the night, the comfort and peace they found in each other's company was a beacon in the quiet darkness, a gentle reminder that amidst the vast and often turbulent galaxy, they had each found a harbor in the other - a safe haven where they could truly be themselves, unguarded and understood.

So that was it, I know it's not my best work, but I still hope you liked it, comments and likes are always welcome.

[star-wars-writing]

Espresso and Empathy

A/N: Thank you for stopping by to read this tale of Obi-Wan Kenobi and Cody. Set in the modern world, this story explores the unfolding relationship between a history professor and a coffee shop owner. I hope you enjoy this journey of discovery and connection written for the @codywanbingo with the prompt: "Air kisses".

"The Jedi's Brew" stood as an oasis of warmth and charm amidst the steel and glass of the bustling city. As one stepped through its antiquated wooden door, they were greeted by an alchemy of aromas – the rich, earthy scent of roasted coffee beans melding harmoniously with the sweet whispers of cinnamon and vanilla from freshly baked pastries. This olfactory tapestry was not just a mere welcome, but an invitation to leave the world behind, even if just for a coffee cup's time.

Inside, the ambiance was a delicate balance of comfort and elegance. The walls, painted in a soothing palette of deep blues and warm browns, were adorned with vintage star maps and framed quotes from poets and philosophers alike, each piece a nod to a universe far beyond the city’s confines. Soft, ambient lighting spilled from overhead, casting a gentle glow that seemed to slow the passage of time itself.

Furniture in "The Jedi's Brew" was a curated collection of mismatched chairs and tables, each with its own story to tell. Some were sturdy oak pieces that seemed to have grown from the floorboards themselves, while others were cozy armchairs upholstered in velvet, offering a hug to any weary traveler. The arrangement of these pieces created intimate nooks and crannies, making the space feel both expansive and invitingly close.

At the heart of the shop, the coffee bar stood as a proud altar to the art of coffee-making. An antique espresso machine, polished to a shine, hissed and puffed like a gentle dragon, crafting liquid magic cup by cup. Jars of coffee beans from around the world lined the shelves behind, each label a promise of a new adventure for the palate.

The air in "The Jedi's Brew" was alive with the soft murmur of conversations – a tapestry of stories, laughter, and sometimes, comfortable silences. It was a place where time seemed to relent, where the city’s heartbeat slowed to match the rhythmic drip of coffee. The shop's large windows framed the bustling outside world, yet inside, they offered a serene vantage point, a quiet observer's haven.

Above all, it was the sense of belonging that made "The Jedi's Brew" enchanting. It was in the way the shop seemed to embrace each customer, in the unspoken understanding that here, amidst the steam and whispers, one could find a moment of peace, a piece of home. This small, unassuming coffee shop was not just a place; it was an experience, a sanctuary for the soul amidst the symphony of city life.

**** 

Commander Cody, the owner and barista of "The Jedi's Brew," was the lifeblood of the establishment, a man whose military precision was softened by the warmth of his smile. Clad in a crisp apron, his movements behind the counter were a study in efficiency – each turn, each press of the espresso machine, executed with the exactness of a well-rehearsed drill. Yet, his eyes sparkled with an amiable light, his voice carrying a tone that was both commanding and comforting.

The coffee shop was not just his business; it was his passion, a project born from the desire to create a space where warmth met quality, where every patron felt like a welcomed guest in his home. Cody’s brothers, Rex, Wolffe, Ponds, Fives, and Echo, were his comrades-in-arms in this endeavor, each bringing their unique personality to the mix, turning the coffee shop into a vibrant tapestry of brotherhood and camaraderie.

Their banter was a delightful undercurrent to the shop's atmosphere. Rex, with his quick wit, often sparred verbally with Wolffe, whose dry humor was as subtle as it was sharp. Ponds, the peacemaker, would interject with a diplomatic quip, while Fives and Echo, the youngest, injected a dose of youthful energy, their laughter ringing out like chimes.

Cody, the eldest, balanced his role as leader and brother with a natural ease. He guided with a gentle hand, his instructions to his brothers clear but kind. The respect they held for him was palpable, a testament to their shared past and unspoken bond forged through years of shared experiences, both in and out of the military.

As Cody interacted with his brothers, there was a sense of a well-oiled machine, a unit that functioned seamlessly, each brother an integral cog. Yet, beyond the efficiency, there was love – a deep, abiding affection that resonated in their jests, in the way they moved around each other, anticipating needs and gestures with the familiarity of a dance long practiced.

The customers, regulars and newcomers alike, were drawn not just to the quality of the coffee but to the energy of the brothers. They watched, often amused, as Echo playfully dodged a towel thrown by Fives, or as Rex shared a laugh with a customer over a shared love of classic literature, a topic he was surprisingly passionate about.

Cody’s interactions with his patrons were a blend of professionalism and personal touch. He remembered names and orders, asked about their days with genuine interest, and offered a smile that seemed to say, “You’re among friends here.” His leadership was not just in running the shop but in creating a space where everyone felt a sense of belonging.

In quieter moments, Cody’s gaze would sweep over his shop, a look of pride lighting up his features. This was more than a business; it was a manifestation of his dreams, a place where the rigor of his military life met the warmth of his desire to connect with people. He saw every cup of coffee not just as a product, but as an extension of himself, a gift of comfort to whoever held it.

The dynamic in "The Jedi's Brew" was a delicate balance between order and warmth, a reflection of Cody and his brothers – men who had seen much, served much, but had found their peace in the simple yet profound act of serving others, one cup at a time.

****

In the tranquil cocoon of "The Jedi's Brew," where the symphony of coffee aromas and hushed conversations wove a tapestry of calm, Obi-Wan Kenobi found his haven. He entered with the ease of a regular, his presence a familiar and comforting addition to the shop's ambiance. The bell above the door chimed softly, announcing his arrival, yet it was his serene aura that truly marked his entry.

Obi-Wan, clad in his usual attire of a tweed blazer – the elbows worn from years of leaning over countless books – and a neatly knotted scarf, moved with a quiet grace. His hair, peppered with silver, spoke of wisdom and a life dedicated to the pursuit of knowledge, while the gentle lines etched around his eyes told of years spent smiling at the wonders of the past.

He selected his usual spot, a secluded corner by the window, where the light was just right – not too harsh, not too dim – perfect for delving into the depths of ancient history. As he settled into his favored armchair, a sigh of contentment escaped him, a silent acknowledgment of the shop's embrace.

Around him, the soft murmur of the shop continued. Patrons, each absorbed in their own worlds, cast occasional glances towards the professor, their eyes reflecting a mix of curiosity and respect. To them, Obi-Wan was a figure of intrigue, a staple of the shop's tapestry, as much a part of its charm as the antique espresso machine.

With a gentle touch, Obi-Wan opened his book, an ancient tome on the civilizations of forgotten worlds. His eyes flickered with a spark of excitement, a flame that was ignited anew with each turn of the page. It was in these moments, lost in the echoes of bygone eras, that he felt most alive, his heart beating in tune with the rhythmic turning of pages.

The coffee arrived, brought to his table by a barista with a knowing smile – a silent exchange of pleasantries without the need for words. The cup, a simple white porcelain, was a vessel of warmth, both physical and metaphorical. Obi-Wan wrapped his hands around it, feeling the heat seep into his skin, a grounding reminder of the present.

As he sipped his coffee, his gaze occasionally wandered beyond the window, where the world rushed by in a blur of color and light. Yet, in his quiet corner, time seemed to stand still. He was a solitary island in the midst of life's relentless river, a thinker amidst the doers.

Obi-Wan's thoughts often drifted as he read. Today, they meandered to the parallels between the ancient tales he cherished and the modern world outside. He pondered on the cyclical nature of history, on the lessons that time had whispered but humankind had often ignored. In these musings, he found a bittersweet solace, an understanding of the world that both enlightened and burdened.

His solitude, however, was not loneliness. It was a chosen companionship with the past, a dialogue with the ages. And yet, the warmth of the coffee shop, with its soft hum of life, provided a gentle anchor to the present, a reminder that while he might roam the corridors of history in his mind, he belonged to the here and now.

In "The Jedi's Brew," Obi-Wan was not just another customer. He was a silent guardian of stories, a keeper of wisdom, nestled in his corner with his coffee and his books, a bridge between the past and the present.

*** 

In the harmonious realm of "The Jedi's Brew," the interactions between Obi-Wan and Commander Cody were like the subtle yet essential notes in a symphony, each adding depth and richness to the melody of the coffee shop's daily life.

One such morning, as the first light of dawn painted the city in hues of amber and gold, Obi-Wan, his eyes reflecting the tranquility of a man at peace with his solitude, approached the counter. Cody, already in the rhythm of his morning tasks, looked up and greeted him with a nod, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a smile that spoke of recognition and respect.

"Good morning, Professor," Cody said, his voice carrying the warmth of a seasoned host. "The usual, or are you feeling adventurous today?"

Obi-Wan, placing his worn leather satchel on the counter, returned the smile. "I think I'll stick with the usual, Cody. Although, your 'adventurous' blends have never disappointed."

As Cody prepared his coffee, the rich aroma filling the space between them, their conversation meandered effortlessly from the mundane to the meaningful. They spoke of the weather, the crispness of the autumn air, and how it reminded Obi-Wan of the changing leaves in the gardens of the university.

"The campus must look quite spectacular this time of year," Cody remarked, his hands working deftly to craft the perfect cup.

"It does," Obi-Wan replied, his eyes lighting up with the mention of his beloved university. "There's a certain magic in the air, a sense of anticipation as the students return. It's quite infectious."

Cody handed him his coffee, and their fingers brushed momentarily, a fleeting touch that seemed to linger in the air. "I can imagine," he said, a hint of curiosity in his tone. "You must have quite the collection of stories from your years there."

Obi-Wan, taking a sip of his coffee, savored not just the flavor but the connection the simple beverage represented. "Indeed, I do. And speaking of stories," he added, a playful glint in his eye, "I've just started a fascinating book on ancient galactic civilizations. I think it might be right up your alley."

Cody leaned in, intrigued. "Oh? Do tell."

As Obi-Wan delved into a brief synopsis of his latest read, his voice a melody of enthusiasm and knowledge, Cody listened intently, his expression a mix of admiration and genuine interest. Their conversation was a dance of words and expressions, a testament to the growing bond between them, one that transcended the usual customer-barista dynamic.

Around them, the coffee shop hummed with its morning routine, but in their shared space at the counter, time seemed to slow, allowing their exchange to unfold in its own sacred tempo. The other patrons, some regulars who had grown accustomed to the professor's presence, cast occasional glances their way, their expressions a blend of curiosity and fondness. To them, Obi-Wan and Cody's interactions were a part of the shop's charm, a human connection that added to the warmth of their favorite haven.

As their conversation drew to a close, with Cody promising to check out Obi-Wan's book recommendation, there was a lingering sense of unspoken words, of stories yet to be shared. Obi-Wan, with a final nod and a grateful smile, retreated to his corner, his coffee in hand, leaving Cody to his duties.

In that moment, as Obi-Wan settled into his chair and Cody returned to his work, there was a shared feeling of contentment, a silent acknowledgment of the unique camaraderie they had cultivated. It was a bond formed over cups of coffee and snippets of conversation, a gentle yet profound connection that was as much a part of "The Jedi's Brew" as the coffee itself.

*** 

As the days unfurled like the pages of a well-loved book, the walls of "The Jedi's Brew" bore witness to the subtly evolving tapestry of interactions between Obi-Wan Kenobi and Commander Cody. The coffee shop, with its symphony of aromas and the comforting cadence of familiar routines, had become a stage for a dance of quiet anticipation and unspoken interest.

The crisp morning air was always slightly sweeter on the days Obi-Wan planned to visit the coffee shop. His morning preparations, once a matter of routine, had taken on a new significance. He found himself selecting his tweed jacket and scarf with more care, his reflection in the mirror revealing a hint of expectancy in his eyes.

As he stepped into the coffee shop, the familiar chime of the bell above the door seemed to resonate with the rhythm of his heartbeat. The warm, inviting atmosphere enveloped him, but it was the sight of Cody, behind the counter, that anchored his senses. There was a newfound depth to the way their gazes met; a silent acknowledgement that lingered just a moment longer than necessary, bridging the distance between them.

"Good morning, Obi-Wan," Cody would greet, his voice a rich blend of warmth and professionalism. There was a light in his eyes, subtle yet unmistakable, that seemed to brighten just for Obi-Wan.

"And to you, Cody," Obi-Wan would respond, his voice carrying an undercurrent of joy he barely recognized in himself. Each visit, each exchange, was like a step closer in a dance he hadn't realized he'd been longing to partake in.

Their conversations began to meander beyond the realms of coffee and weather, delving into territories of personal interests and past experiences. Cody would share anecdotes from his military days, his words painting vivid images of camaraderie and adventure, while Obi-Wan listened, captivated, his historian's mind enthralled by the living history before him.

Likewise, Obi-Wan's tales of academic life, of the wonders and mysteries of ancient civilizations, seemed to fascinate Cody. He listened with rapt attention, his questions thoughtful, prompting Obi-Wan to reveal more of himself than he usually allowed.

As Obi-Wan sipped his coffee in his corner, he found his gaze drifting towards the counter more often than not. He observed Cody's interactions with others, noting the ease and respect with which he treated everyone, yet quietly yearning for the moments when Cody's attention would return to him. There was a warmth in those exchanges that seemed to reach beyond the confines of customer and barista, touching something deeper within.

Even the other patrons began to notice the subtle dance unfolding between the two. Regulars exchanged knowing smiles and fleeting glances, witnessing the growing connection that laced each conversation with an undercurrent of something more. The atmosphere in "The Jedi's Brew" seemed to thrum with the quiet energy of their budding connection, adding an intangible layer of anticipation to the air.

As the days turned to weeks, Obi-Wan's visits to the coffee shop became the highlights of his mornings. The anticipation of seeing Cody, of engaging in their increasingly personal exchanges, stirred a sense of excitement within him that he hadn't felt in years. It was as if each visit, each shared smile, was a piece of a puzzle he hadn't known he was assembling.

In these moments, in the unspoken language of lingering glances and extended conversations, the foundation of something new and uncertain was being laid. It was a connection that transcended the simplicity of coffee shop banter, hinting at the possibility of something deeper, something that neither Obi-Wan nor Cody had yet dared to define.

*** 

As autumn deepened, bringing with it a tapestry of russet and gold that draped the city, the days began to shorten, and the evenings at "The Jedi's Brew" stretched longer, more languid and introspective. It was on one such evening, when the sky was a canvas of twilight hues, that Obi-Wan found himself lingering in the coffee shop long after the evening rush had ebbed away.

The shop, usually abuzz with the symphony of daily life, had settled into a quiet lull, the murmurs of the few remaining patrons a soft undertone to the gentle clinking of cups and the subtle whir of the espresso machine. Obi-Wan, ensconced in his usual corner, was lost in a tome of ancient history, the words a gateway to worlds long past.

As the clock hands marched steadily onwards, the patrons trickled out, leaving Obi-Wan and a few solitary figures in their own pockets of quiet. Cody, having handed over the reins of closing to Rex for the night, approached Obi-Wan's table with a relaxed stride, a cup of freshly brewed coffee in hand.

"Thought you might need a refill," Cody said, placing the cup before Obi-Wan, his voice a comfortable melody in the quietude of the shop.

Obi-Wan looked up, his eyes reflecting a blend of surprise and warmth. "Thank you, Cody. I didn't realize how late it had gotten."

Cody pulled up a chair, an unspoken invitation hanging in the air. "Sometimes, a good book can make hours seem like minutes," he remarked, his gaze briefly flitting over the tome's ancient cover.

Obi-Wan's smile was soft, tinged with appreciation. "Indeed, it can. This one is about the Byzantine Empire. Fascinating period, full of intrigue and artistry."

Cody leaned forward, his interest piqued. "Byzantine, you say? I've always been intrigued by that era. The complexity of their politics, the depth of their culture."

The conversation that unfolded was a tapestry of shared interests and mutual discovery. Obi-Wan spoke of his passion for history, his words painting vivid pictures of empires risen and fallen, of the timeless dance of humanity through the ages. Cody, in turn, shared his own interests, revealing a surprising affinity for classical music, particularly the compositions that had echoed through the halls of history.

"The way music can transcend time and place, it's always fascinated me," Cody said, his eyes reflecting the glow of the shop's ambient lighting. "There's a piece by Beethoven, 'Moonlight Sonata,' that I find particularly moving."

Obi-Wan's expression softened, a gentle understanding lighting his features. "Ah, 'Moonlight Sonata,' a piece both haunting and beautiful. It's remarkable how music can capture the essence of an emotion, a moment in time."

As they spoke, the world outside the coffee shop seemed to recede, leaving only the shared space of their conversation, a bubble where past and present intertwined. The shop's soft lighting cast a golden glow around them, lending an almost ethereal quality to the moment.

Around them, the few remaining patrons began to depart, the gentle chime of the door marking their exits. The shop, now almost empty, felt like a sanctuary, a space where time stood still, allowing their words and thoughts to unfurl in a dance of discovery and connection.

As the conversation meandered from music to history, and then to the more personal realms of hopes and dreams, there was a sense of barriers slowly dissolving, of two souls tentatively exploring the landscape of shared understanding and unexpected kinship.

When the conversation finally waned, a comfortable silence settled between them, filled with unspoken thoughts and emotions. It was a silence that spoke of a newfound depth to their relationship, a connection that had transcended the boundaries of mere acquaintance.

In that quiet coffee shop, as the evening whispered its way towards night, Obi-Wan and Cody discovered a kinship that was as surprising as it was welcome. It was a moment of connection that hinted at the possibility of something more, a journey just beginning to unfold.

The evening in "The Jedi's Brew" had wrapped itself in a cloak of tranquility, the kind that only comes when the world slows down, and the moment at hand becomes everything. The conversation between Obi-Wan and Cody, rich with the exploration of shared passions and quiet revelations, had gradually wound down, leaving in its wake a profound sense of connection and a silent acknowledgment of something unspoken yet deeply felt.

Cody, with a glance at the clock, which now showed the hour growing late, reluctantly pushed his chair back, the sound softly echoing in the near-empty coffee shop. "I should get back to closing up," he said, his voice carrying a tinge of reluctance, as if he were stepping out of one world and back into another.

Obi-Wan nodded, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Of course. Thank you for the coffee... and the conversation."

As Cody stood and began to make his way back to the counter, there was a palpable shift in the air, a lingering sense of the words left unsaid, of the emotions that had been gently stirred in the quiet of the evening. The subtle glow of the shop's lights seemed to cast a spotlight on the space between them, highlighting the significance of the moment.

Obi-Wan watched Cody retreat, feeling an unfamiliar flutter in his chest, a mixture of anticipation and a newfound boldness. In a fleeting moment of courage, spurred by the night's revelations and the comfortable intimacy they had shared, he lifted his hand in a gentle, playful gesture, sending an air kiss towards Cody.

The action, simple yet laden with meaning, hung in the air like a delicate promise, a bridge between their two worlds. Cody, pausing in his steps, turned back to look at Obi-Wan, his expression one of surprise that quickly melted into a smile of genuine pleasure. His eyes, always so expressive, shone with a mix of amusement and a deeper, more tender emotion that had only just begun to surface.

In that smile, there was an acknowledgment of Obi-Wan's gesture, a silent acceptance that spoke volumes. It was a smile that seemed to say, "I see you, and I am here with you." Cody's response, though wordless, was as eloquent as any spoken reply, conveying an understanding and a shared sentiment that transcended the need for language.

The air kiss, a playful yet poignant symbol of their burgeoning connection, marked a turning point in their relationship. It was a step beyond the boundaries of friendship, a toe dipped into the waters of something deeper, something that held the promise of new possibilities.

As Cody resumed his path to the counter, there was a new spring in his step, a lightness that mirrored Obi-Wan's own uplifted spirit. The professor, still seated, allowed himself a moment to bask in the afterglow of their exchange, his heart quietly singing with a joy he hadn't felt in years.

The coffee shop, now steeped in the silence of the approaching night, stood as a witness to the birth of something beautiful, something tentative yet filled with potential. In the quiet exchange of an air kiss, Obi-Wan and Cody had opened a door to a new chapter in their story, a chapter that was yet to be written but promised to be as rich and fulfilling as the aromatic brews of "The Jedi's Brew."

**** 

In the ensuing days, a subtle yet undeniable change permeated the atmosphere of "The Jedi's Brew." Each interaction between Obi-Wan and Cody, once a casual exchange between patron and barista, now thrummed with a current of unspoken feelings, a silent language understood only by the two of them.

The mornings brought with them a heightened sense of anticipation. For Obi-Wan, the walk to the coffee shop became a journey filled with an eager expectancy, each step bringing him closer to the now-familiar figure behind the counter. His thoughts, once occupied with the day's lectures and academic pursuits, increasingly found their way to Cody – to his smile, his laughter, and the stories yet untold.

Cody, in turn, found himself watching the door more frequently, awaiting Obi-Wan's arrival with an eagerness he had not known before. The sight of the professor, with his scholarly air and thoughtful eyes, became the highlight of his mornings, a moment that set the tone for the rest of his day.

Their conversations, once confined to the realms of coffee and weather, now ventured into deeper territories. Obi-Wan, with a cup of his favorite blend in hand, would often linger at the counter, speaking of his lectures with a passion that was both infectious and endearing.

"Just yesterday, I spoke about the Roman Empire's architectural marvels," Obi-Wan shared one morning, his eyes alight with the fervor of his subject. "It's fascinating to think how their engineering feats still influence us today."

Cody listened, genuinely captivated, leaning in slightly as if each word were a treasure. "I've always admired the way you historians can bring the past to life," he said. "Makes me wish I'd paid more attention in history class."

Their laughter mingled, a shared melody that added warmth to the shop's cozy ambiance.

As the days unfolded, Cody began sharing more of his own experiences. He spoke of his military days, not of the battles and hardships, but of the camaraderie, the places he had seen, and the lessons he had learned. His stories were a tapestry of adventure and resilience, each one revealing a new facet of his character.

"I remember this one time in the desert," Cody recounted, a reflective note in his voice. "The stars were so bright, it felt like we could reach out and touch them. Made us feel small, yet part of something vast and timeless."

Obi-Wan, listening intently, felt a connection to Cody's experiences, a resonance with his own explorations of the past's grand tapestries. Their conversations became a bridge between two worlds – the academic and the practical, the historical and the contemporary.

Around them, the regular patrons of "The Jedi's Brew" began to notice the subtle shift in Obi-Wan and Cody's interactions. There was a new depth to their exchanges, a tenderness that was palpable even in the most mundane conversations. Their laughter seemed richer, their silences more comfortable, and their glances more lingering.

In these moments of shared stories and mutual understanding, the unspoken feelings between them grew stronger, an undercurrent that neither could ignore. It was as if each word, each glance, and each shared smile were threads in a tapestry they were weaving together, a tapestry rich with potential and unexplored possibilities.

As the line between patron and barista blurred, a friendship deepened, blossoming into something that held the promise of more. In the quiet haven of the coffee shop, amidst the aroma of coffee and the soft murmur of conversations, Obi-Wan and Cody were embarking on a journey of discovery, one that was as much about understanding each other as it was about understanding themselves.

**** 

As the days gently folded into weeks, the walls of "The Jedi's Brew" became the silent custodians of a deepening bond between Obi-Wan and Cody, a bond woven from the threads of shared stories, lingering looks, and a burgeoning understanding that whispered of something more profound.

The crisp mornings saw Obi-Wan, his steps now imbued with a lightness, entering the coffee shop with a sense of anticipation that fluttered like a delicate leaf in the wind. The sight of Cody, his posture a blend of strength and ease behind the counter, became a beacon, drawing Obi-Wan into their shared world of quiet connection.

Their conversations, once a pleasant exchange of academic and military anecdotes, began to traverse the more personal landscapes of their lives. It was during one such morning, as the shop hummed with its usual rhythm of brewing coffee and hushed conversations, that Obi-Wan found himself opening up about his family.

"My family is scattered across the globe," Obi-Wan shared, a wistful note threading through his words. "We don't see each other often. It's mainly emails and the occasional call."

Cody, polishing a coffee cup, paused to look at Obi-Wan, his expression a soft canvas of empathy. "That must be tough," he said gently.

Obi-Wan nodded, a small, reflective smile touching his lips. "It is, at times. But I've found a family of sorts in my colleagues. Plo and Mace, they're more than just fellow professors. They've been my pillars, in a way."

Cody listened, his eyes reflecting the depth of his understanding. "I get that. Sometimes, family isn't just about blood. It's about the bonds we build along the way."

Encouraged by Cody's response, Obi-Wan ventured further, sharing anecdotes about Plo's wisdom and Mace's unwavering support, their personalities painting a picture of a familial bond formed within the hallowed halls of academia.

As the conversation flowed, Cody began to share more about his own family, his voice carrying a mixture of pride and affection. "I have a large family. My brothers and I, we've always been close, but Rex... he's more than a brother. We've been through a lot together, both in and out of the military."

The stories Cody shared about Rex and his other brothers were a vibrant tapestry of laughter, loyalty, and shared experiences. Each tale, whether it was about a childhood prank or a challenging time in the service, was infused with a sense of closeness and profound connection.

Obi-Wan, listening intently, felt a warmth spreading through him, a feeling of being privy to the sacred territory of Cody's personal life. The realization that they were sharing pieces of their worlds, pieces that were not often brought to light, added a new layer of intimacy to their growing friendship.

Their exchanges, rich with the nuances of shared understanding and empathy, began to carry an electric charge of unspoken emotions. The air between them seemed to thrum with the vibrancy of their connection, an invisible thread drawing them closer with each shared story, each knowing glance.

In these moments, as they delved into the realms of family and personal connections, the rest of the coffee shop seemed to fade into a soft blur. The world outside the windows of "The Jedi's Brew" continued its relentless march, but within the warm confines of the shop, time seemed to slow, allowing their bond to flourish in the rich soil of shared experiences and mutual understanding.

Their journey, which had begun as a series of casual interactions, was now evolving into something deeper, a path lined with the potential of unexplored emotions and the promise of a connection that transcended the ordinary. In the quiet sanctuary of the coffee shop, Obi-Wan and Cody were not just a professor and a barista; they were two souls, gradually unveiling the layers of their lives, discovering the profound joy of a connection that was as unexpected as it was welcome.

**** 

As autumn relinquished its hold to the brisk embrace of winter, the bond between Obi-Wan and Cody continued to flourish, nurtured by their daily interactions at "The Jedi's Brew." It was during this season of change that an opportunity arose for their connection to deepen further, bridging the gap between the coffee shop and the outside world.

One crisp morning, as Obi-Wan lingered over his coffee, he mentioned to Cody about an upcoming public lecture he was giving at the university. "It's on the socio-political impact of trade routes in ancient civilizations," he explained, his eyes alight with the passion he felt for his subject.

Cody, wiping down the counter, looked up with genuine interest. "That sounds fascinating, Obi-Wan. I'd love to come and listen if that's alright with you."

Obi-Wan's expression, initially one of mild surprise, quickly transformed into one of pleased delight. "I would be honored to have you there, Cody. It's this Thursday evening in the main auditorium."

The exchange marked a significant moment, a step beyond the familiar confines of the coffee shop, into a realm that was distinctly part of Obi-Wan's world.

On the evening of the lecture, as the auditorium filled with the hum of anticipation, Obi-Wan stood backstage, feeling an unfamiliar flutter of nerves. His lectures were always well-received, but tonight was different. Tonight, Cody would be in the audience. The thought brought both excitement and a hint of vulnerability.

As he stepped onto the stage, the bright lights and sea of faces momentarily disoriented him. He adjusted his glasses, cleared his throat, and began to speak, his voice steady and clear. As he delved into the complexities of ancient trade and its far-reaching impacts, he scanned the audience, searching for a familiar face.

There, in the fourth row, sat Cody. His posture was one of attentive interest, his eyes fixed on Obi-Wan. The sight of him, present in Obi-Wan's academic world, was both heartening and deeply significant. It was a gesture of support and interest that transcended their morning conversations over coffee.

Throughout the lecture, Obi-Wan found himself speaking not just to the audience, but to Cody. Each point he made, each insight he shared, felt like part of a conversation with him. Cody's presence, a solitary but significant thread, wove through his words, adding depth and meaning to the lecture.

After the applause had died down and the audience began to disperse, Cody made his way to the front. His approach was tentative, respectful of the academic setting, yet his smile was as warm and familiar as it was in the coffee shop.

"That was incredible, Obi-Wan," Cody said, his voice carrying a note of admiration. "I had no idea how intricate those trade networks were. It really opens up a new perspective on how interconnected our world is."

Obi-Wan, his initial nervousness replaced by a glow of satisfaction, responded, "Thank you, Cody. I'm really glad you could be here. It means a lot to me."

Their conversation flowed effortlessly, touching on various points from the lecture, then meandering to other topics. It was a continuation of the many talks they had shared, yet imbued with a new sense of closeness.

As they walked out of the auditorium together, the crisp night air greeting them, there was a palpable sense of a boundary having been crossed, of their relationship evolving into something richer. The evening was not just about sharing knowledge; it was a sharing of selves, a mutual exploration of interests and worlds.

In attending Obi-Wan's lecture, Cody had not only shown his respect and support for Obi-Wan's passion but had also opened a door to a deeper understanding of the man behind the professor. Likewise, Obi-Wan had welcomed Cody into a part of his life that was deeply important to him, a gesture of trust and connection.

As they said their goodnights, with a promise to talk more over coffee the next morning, there was a sense of unspoken agreement that they were no longer just acquaintances who enjoyed conversation. They were two individuals, each stepping into the other's world, discovering the joy and depth of a connection that was growing more profound with each passing day.

*** 

The following morning, the ambiance of "The Jedi's Brew" was suffused with its usual blend of warmth and the rich aroma of coffee. However, a subtle shift in the dynamics could be felt, particularly around the counter where Cody and his brothers were engaged in their morning routines.

Cody, lost in thought as he methodically prepared a batch of their signature blend, was jolted back to the present by Rex's teasing voice. "So, brother, how was the evening with the professor?" Rex asked, a playful glint in his eye, as he arranged the freshly baked pastries in the display case.

Cody's cheeks took on a hint of color, a rare show of bashfulness from the usually composed barista. "It was an enlightening lecture," he replied, trying to maintain a nonchalant tone as he focused on the coffee grinder.

Wolffe, overhearing the exchange, joined in with a knowing smile. "Enlightening, huh? I noticed you got back later than usual. You must have been very... enlightened."

The light-hearted ribbing continued, with Fives and Echo chiming in, their voices tinged with amusement and affection. "Maybe we should all attend these lectures if they're that interesting," Echo suggested, his laughter mixing with the clinking of the coffee cups he was setting up.

Cody, while trying to fend off their comments with good-natured retorts, couldn't help but feel a warmth at their teasing. It was a sign of his brothers' care and interest in his life, even if expressed through their characteristic banter.

Amidst the laughter and playful remarks, there was an unspoken acknowledgment of the change they had seen in Cody. His frequent glances towards the door, the softening of his expression when he spoke of Obi-Wan's lectures, and the lingering smiles that followed their conversations – all had not gone unnoticed by his observant brothers.

Ponds, who had been quietly setting up the register, added his thoughts in a more reflective tone. "It's good to see you like this, Cody. It's been a while since someone's caught your interest so much."

The comment, though gentle, struck a chord. Cody paused, a moment of introspection crossing his features. It was true; the connection he felt with Obi-Wan was something he hadn't experienced in a long time. It was more than just admiration for the professor's intellect; it was a deep-seated interest in the man himself, his thoughts, his stories, his very essence.

As the morning rush began, with customers trickling in and the usual buzz of activity enveloping the shop, Cody found himself eagerly anticipating Obi-Wan's arrival. The prospect of their morning conversation, a ritual that had become the highlight of his day, filled him with a sense of excitement that he hadn't felt in years.

The teasing from his brothers, though playful, had shed light on the depth of his fascination with Obi-Wan. It was a realization that was both exhilarating and daunting. As he prepared each cup of coffee, his mind wandered, replaying their conversations, their shared moments, and the subtle yet undeniable connection that had been forming between them.

In the sanctuary of "The Jedi's Brew," amidst the laughter of his brothers and the warmth of the coffee shop, Cody's feelings for Obi-Wan continued to bloom, a gentle yet persistent force that promised to shape the path of his heart in ways he had yet to fully understand.

*** 

The evening of the university event arrived with a flurry of excitement and anticipation, transforming the usually serene campus into a hub of bustling activity. "The Jedi's Brew" had been chosen to cater the event, a testament to its growing reputation in the city. The coffee shop's team, led by Cody and his brothers, arrived early, laden with equipment and supplies, ready to infuse the event with their signature warmth and quality.

The venue, a grand hall adorned with historic art and elegant decor, buzzed with the chatter of attendees, a mix of professors, students, and guests, all mingling in the sophisticated setting. Amidst this backdrop, Cody and his team set up their station, a beacon of rich aromas and inviting warmth in the corner of the hall.

Obi-Wan, as one of the hosts, was engaged in a whirlwind of greetings and conversations, his role as a professor bringing with it a host of responsibilities and expectations. Despite the demands of the evening, his gaze frequently wandered to the coffee station, seeking out the familiar figure of Cody.

Cody, donning his apron and a professional yet warm demeanor, was the picture of efficiency as he and his brothers served the guests. His movements were a blend of practiced skill and inherent grace, each interaction with attendees marked by his characteristic charm and ease.

Throughout the evening, amidst the serving of coffee and the exchange of pleasantries, Cody's eyes would find Obi-Wan's across the room. These stolen glances, brief yet laden with meaning, were their silent conversations amidst the din of the event. Each eye contact was a shared moment, a subtle smile passing between them, a quiet acknowledgment of the connection they shared.

Obi-Wan, for his part, felt a thrum of excitement each time their gazes met. The event, with all its formalities and duties, faded into the background during these moments, giving way to the unspoken bond he shared with Cody. His heart would skip a beat, a sensation both exhilarating and comforting, as he allowed himself these brief instances of connection.

Cody, in turn, felt a similar rush of emotions. Each glance from Obi-Wan, each subtle smile, was a reassurance, a tether that connected him to the professor despite the night's busyness. It was a reminder of their growing relationship, a promise of conversations yet to be had and moments yet to be shared.

As the evening wore on, the initial buzz of activity gradually subsided, giving way to a more relaxed atmosphere. The guests began to dwindle, leaving the hall in a state of quiet repose. Cody and his brothers started the process of packing up, their movements slower now, tinged with the fatigue of the night's work.

Obi-Wan, seizing the opportunity as the crowd thinned, made his way over to Cody. "You've outdone yourself tonight," he said, his voice a soft blend of gratitude and admiration.

Cody, wiping down the counter, looked up with a tired yet satisfied smile. "It was our pleasure, Obi-Wan. I'm just glad everything went smoothly."

Their conversation, brief due to the lingering guests and the task of cleaning up, was nonetheless rich with the undercurrent of their shared experience. They spoke of the night, of the success of the event, but their words carried a deeper significance, a recognition of the effort and care they had both invested in the evening.

As they said their goodbyes, with promises of catching up soon at the coffee shop, there was a mutual feeling of contentment, a sense of accomplishment not just in the success of the event, but in the strength of the connection they had maintained throughout the busy evening.

The university event, a convergence of their professional and personal worlds, had been another step in the unfolding journey of their relationship. In the midst of their duties and responsibilities, they had found moments of connection, subtle yet profound, that continued to draw them closer, weaving the fabric of their bond ever tighter.

As the event at the university gradually wound down, the grand hall, once aflutter with voices and movement, settled into a quieter rhythm. The remaining guests drifted towards the exits, their conversations fading into soft echoes that danced off the high ceilings and ornate walls. In the coffee-serving area, Obi-Wan and Cody found themselves in a pocket of calm, a serene bubble amidst the remnants of the bustling evening.

The area, now devoid of guests, was bathed in the soft glow of the overhead lights, casting gentle shadows that played on their faces. The air was still rich with the scent of coffee, a comforting reminder of "The Jedi's Brew" and the many mornings they had shared there.

Cody, who had been methodically cleaning up, paused as he realized they were alone. He looked up at Obi-Wan, standing across the counter, and in that quiet moment, the weight of their unspoken feelings seemed to fill the space between them.

Obi-Wan, leaning slightly on the counter, broke the silence, his voice carrying a depth of emotion that had been carefully restrained. "Cody, these past weeks, our conversations, the time we've spent together... they've come to mean a great deal to me."

Cody, placing the cloth down, met Obi-Wan's gaze with an intensity that mirrored his own. "I feel the same, Obi-Wan. There's something between us, more than just friendship. I've felt it for a while now."

The words, spoken aloud, hung in the air, a tangible admission of the connection they had both been nurturing. The atmosphere, charged with the potential of what lay unexplored between them, seemed to hold its breath.

Obi-Wan, his heart beating a rhythm of hopeful trepidation, continued, "I've found myself looking forward to our mornings together more than I would have expected. There's a... a compatibility, a shared understanding that I haven't found often."

Cody, his usual composure softened by the sincerity of the moment, nodded. "It's rare to find someone who understands you, who connects with you on so many levels. I didn't expect it, but I'm grateful for it, for you."

Their words were a dance of honesty and vulnerability, a delicate exploration of the feelings that had been quietly growing. In the empty coffee-serving area, surrounded by the remnants of the event, they allowed themselves to delve into the heart of their relationship.

"I don't know where this might lead, Cody, but I'm open to finding out, if you are," Obi-Wan said, a note of cautious optimism threading through his words.

Cody, reaching across the counter, briefly clasped Obi-Wan's hand, a gesture laden with meaning. "I am. Whatever this is, whatever it could be, I want to explore it with you."

Their hands parted, but the connection remained, a silent pact sealed in the quiet of the university hall. As they continued to talk, their conversation meandering through hopes and uncertainties, the potential of what lay ahead, they were both acutely aware of the significance of this moment.

The event had ended, but for Obi-Wan and Cody, it was the beginning of a new chapter, one filled with the promise of discovery and the potential of a relationship that had blossomed from shared morning coffees into something deeper, something profound. In the tranquility of the coffee-serving area, they had taken the first tentative steps towards exploring the depth of their connection, embarking on a journey guided by the heart and the quiet promise of a shared future.

In the stillness of the university hall, now empty of all but echoes and shadows, Obi-Wan and Cody lingered in the cocoon of their newfound understanding. The air around them was charged with the electricity of uncharted possibilities, each word they exchanged a step into a future they were now choosing to explore together.

Cody, leaning against the counter, his posture relaxed yet filled with an anticipatory energy, broke the comfortable silence that had settled between them. "I've always been an early riser, you know, because of the shop. But these past weeks, it's been about more than just coffee. It's been about... us."

Obi-Wan, standing across from him, felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth, his heart swelling with a mixture of excitement and a deep, resonant affection. "I've felt the same. Our morning conversations have become the highlight of my day. It's not just the coffee or the history, it's the connection... with you."

Their eyes met, holding each other in a gaze that spoke volumes, communicating the depth of their feelings more eloquently than words ever could. The connection that had blossomed in the familiar confines of "The Jedi's Brew" was now ready to grow beyond those walls.

"I'd like that," Cody said, his voice a soft but firm declaration of his intentions. "To explore what's between us, to see where this path leads."

Obi-Wan's response was immediate, a reflection of his own desire to delve deeper into the bond they had formed. "I would like that very much. There's so much more I want to know about you, so many more conversations I want to have."

The conversation that followed was a gentle weaving of tentative plans and hopeful aspirations. They spoke of simple things – a walk in the park, a visit to a museum, perhaps a meal at a quiet restaurant. Each suggestion was a promise, a commitment to taking the time to understand each other outside the routine of their morning encounters.

As they finalized their plans for their first official outing, a sense of contentment settled over them. It was the kind of contentment that comes from knowing you're on the cusp of something wonderful, something that fills you with both anticipation and a deep sense of rightness.

The evening drew to a close, and as they prepared to part ways, there was a reluctance to end the moment, a desire to linger in the magic of their shared understanding. They exchanged a final, lingering look, a silent promise of all that was to come.

"Goodnight, Cody. I'll see you tomorrow," Obi-Wan said, his voice low and imbued with a warmth that hadn't been there before.

"Goodnight, Obi-Wan. I'm looking forward to it," Cody replied, his smile a reflection of the joy and anticipation that echoed in his heart.

As they walked away from the hall, each to their own thoughts and dreams, the night seemed to embrace them, a witness to the beginning of their journey together. The promise of future dates and shared moments hung in the air, a sweet melody that would carry them forward into a future filled with possibility and the warmth of a connection that had grown from shared cups of coffee into something deeper, something real. In the quiet aftermath of the university event, they had opened the door to exploring their relationship, stepping into a world of shared experiences and moments yet to be cherished.

**** 

The days following the university event were imbued with a new energy at "The Jedi's Brew." For Obi-Wan and Cody, each interaction was now tinged with the unspoken excitement of their burgeoning relationship. The coffee shop, once a place of casual encounters, had transformed into a space where every glance and conversation was laden with deeper meaning.

It was on a particularly serene evening, when the coffee shop hummed with the soft chatter of the day's last customers, that a new chapter in their story began to unfold. The sky outside was painted in strokes of twilight, the city winding down as the night approached.

As the clock neared closing time, the patrons gradually trickled out, leaving Obi-Wan and Cody in the quiet company of the now empty shop. The air was filled with the lingering aroma of coffee, a comforting backdrop to the significant moment that was about to unfold.

Cody, tidying up behind the counter, cast a glance towards Obi-Wan, who was gathering his belongings. "Would you like to help me lock up?" he asked, a hint of hopeful anticipation in his voice.

Obi-Wan, sensing the significance of the request, nodded with a soft smile. "I'd like that."

Together, they moved through the familiar motions of closing the shop. Cody turned off the espresso machine, its hiss and gurgle giving way to silence. Obi-Wan helped by wiping down the tables, his movements deliberate, a quiet reverence in the simple act of caring for the space that had brought them together.

As they worked, their conversation flowed naturally, touching on the events of the day, their plans for their upcoming date, and the quiet contentment they found in each other's company. The ease between them was a testament to the depth of their connection, a bond that had been strengthened in the shared moments within these walls.

With the last table cleaned and the chairs neatly tucked away, Cody and Obi-Wan made their way to the front door. Cody reached for the key, a simple metal piece that suddenly seemed to hold more weight than usual. He inserted it into the lock, turning it with a decisive click that marked the end of the day's business.

The action, simple yet symbolic, felt like a metaphor for the beginning of their journey together – a journey that was being locked into place, a path they were choosing to walk side by side.

As they stood there, the key still in the lock, they turned to face each other. The soft glow of the streetlights outside filtered through the windows, casting a gentle light that framed their faces.

"Thank you for helping me close up," Cody said, his voice low and sincere.

"It was my pleasure," Obi-Wan replied, his eyes holding Cody's gaze. "It feels different, locking up the shop with you. It feels... right."

In that moment, with the quiet of the shop surrounding them, a profound sense of connection enveloped them. They were on the threshold of something new, a journey that was theirs to explore, filled with the promise of shared experiences and discoveries.

Cody reached out, his hand gently brushing Obi-Wan's. It was a tender gesture, charged with the emotion of the moment. "I'm looking forward to this journey with you, Obi-Wan. To finding out where this path leads us."

Obi-Wan's hand clasped Cody's, a firm yet gentle affirmation of their mutual feelings. "As am I, Cody. As am I."

With a final, lingering look, they stepped out of the shop, locking the door behind them. The night embraced them, a quiet witness to the beginning of their journey together. The shop, now dark and still, stood as a testament to their story, a story that was just beginning to be written under the watchful eyes of the stars above.

**** 

As Obi-Wan walked home, the cool night air brushed against his face, carrying with it the whispers of the city as it settled into slumber. His steps were unhurried, echoing softly on the pavement, each one a testament to the profound sense of contentment that filled him. In his mind, the events of the evening replayed like a cherished melody, each note resonating with the warmth of newfound hope.

He thought of the coffee shop, now silent and dark, but vibrant with the memories they had created within its walls. He thought of Cody, of the way his smile had the power to stir something deep within him, of the ease and sincerity in his voice, and of the gentle strength in his hands. The memory of their shared moment locking up the shop lingered at the forefront of his mind, a symbol of the journey they had just embarked upon together.

The air kiss, a simple yet profound gesture, danced in his thoughts, a delicate symbol of their budding relationship. It was a moment that encapsulated the beauty of what was developing between them – a connection that was as surprising as it was deeply right. The memory of it brought a gentle smile to Obi-Wan's lips, a smile that spoke of the joy and anticipation for what lay ahead.

With each step, Obi-Wan felt a growing sense of peace. The uncertainties of the future, which had once loomed large, now seemed manageable, even welcome, as long as he and Cody faced them together. He felt a renewed sense of purpose, a desire to explore this new chapter of his life with the same passion and dedication he applied to his academic pursuits.

As he reached his home and turned the key in the lock, he paused for a moment, taking a deep breath of the night air. He felt grounded, connected to the present in a way he hadn't been before. The evening had not just marked the closing of the coffee shop; it had signified the opening of a new door in his life, one filled with the promise of shared laughter, conversations, and the warmth of a connection that had grown from a simple daily routine into something truly extraordinary.

Obi-Wan stepped inside, the warmth of his home enveloping him. As he prepared for bed, the thought of seeing Cody the next morning filled him with a quiet joy. He drifted off to sleep with a heart full of hope, the memory of the evening's air kiss a gentle reminder of the beautiful journey that lay ahead.

Thank you for joining me on this journey with Obi-Wan and Cody. If you enjoyed their story, your comments and likes are always greatly appreciated.