Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or any of its associated characters; they all belong to their respective owners. I only own any characters or plotlines that you do not recognize.
Music Note: If interested, if you listen to Anakin's Symphony by Lucas King for the latter half of this chapter, it hits differently.
23. Trial and Terror
When Anakin was little, Elara had marveled at how small his hands were. As a baby, his tiny fingers grasped at hers, held tight like she was what kept him safe. She watched his hands grow as he did. Felt how they got bigger and warmer. She knew where every callus was because she felt them develop. But one thing never changed––whenever Anakin's hand sat in hers, he always held tight. Be it because he was eager to show her Threepio's newest rewire, because he feared losing her in Mos Espa's streets, or simply out of fondness. It was something that he hadn't outgrown, that he wasn't ashamed of still doing. Any chance he got to hold his sister's hand, he took; and that always had Elara beaming.
"I remember when your hand was smaller than my palm," she commented with a fond smile. That happy look was turned easily on Anakin, who sat beside her on her neatly-made bed.
Anakin chuckled. He had smiled, too, but it had begun to fade quickly. He averted his eyes. "It's changed a bit since then, huh?"
Elara's gaze dropped to their hands, which sat between them. Her hand was tangled with his, which was no longer flesh and bone. Now it was comprised of bionic joints and sleek metal. Its articulate movements were smooth and real, so much so it was almost disarming. It looked so delicate, peeking out from the hem of his dark woolen robe sleeve. But it was just as strong as its predecessor had been. It still clung to hers just as tightly as it once had; the only difference was that, at first, it was a little cold, a little too hard.
"It's not so bad," Elara said. She drew their hands into her lap and scooted a little closer to her brother. Her smile remained, steadfast and true. "It's a marvel that you have it, and you've adapted wonderfully. You'll get used to it, in time."
Quietly, Anakin nodded and withdrew his fingers from between hers. He aligned their palms better, metal and flesh pressed against each other.. He seemed to consider the difference between his cold skeletal appendage and the warm fullness of his sister's. Elara, too, wordlessly observed the difference between their hands. It was the first time since Anakin had returned from Naboo––since before even Geonosis, even––that they'd had a quiet moment with one another. But there was a strange weight to it. There was no light-hearted banter or carefree smiles. This quiet moment, in the privacy of Elara's room, felt like it would soon become a rarity. Like their time was suddenly limited. It was a gut-wrenching feeling, nauseating as it turned her stomach.
"Things have changed," Anakin murmured. He cocked his head to the side as he started to trace his metal fingertips across her palm slowly. "Everything feels so different now…"
The pleasant look that had lived on Elara's face started to wane. It slipped into something more composed and subtle. Gently contemplative of her brother's low statement. For a moment, the Skywalkers were quiet. Anakin had started to trace the creases in Elara's palm, and she watched him do so. Then their gazes rose and met simultaneously.
"Everything is different. You can feel it in the air… in the Force. It feels so tenuous now, strained. Every star system in the galaxy is fortifying themselves for war; we, as Jedi, are preparing for it, too. We were not trained for this. For war. But I believe that we can persevere. That all our Jedi brothers and sisters can, too. Things have changed––but it's our duty to ensure that some of those changes are for the better," Elara said softly.
It was then that the corner of Anakin's mouth started to lift. He chuckled once, gently, and threaded his fingers between hers again. And there it was––the tight, unchanging hold. It inspired a smile to bloom across Elara's face, and she squeezed his hand back.
"I guess not all the changes are too bad. You'll be a Knight soon. Can't imagine how we could lose the war with you functioning as a full-blown Jedi," Anakin mentioned. He sat a little straighter, filled with a brotherly pride. For the first time since he'd walked into her room, he looked genuinely pleased.
With a short laugh, Elara bobbed her head in a nod. "Yes, I suppose I will be. If I pass the trials, that is," she amended.
"You'll pass them," Anakin said confidently. A cockiness had twisted into his smile, something both endearing and worthy of a subtle eye-roll. So Elara did, indeed, roll her eyes––fondly, of course––and nudge her brother with her elbow. Anakin retaliated by knocking his shoulder against hers. "Are you ready for it?"
Elara hummed and let her brows start to furrow. "Perhaps my humility prevents me from saying that I think I'm prepared. But I've learned what I've learned, and I'll have to rely on that. If the Council has deemed me worthy to undertake the Trials of Knighthood… I have to believe that I'm ready."
It was surreal to be facing the Trials. Many a restless night had been spent dreaming of what the life of a Jedi would be like. It was a source of comfort as sandstorms howled outside the Skywalker hovel. It was what inspired happy, hopeful grins to split across Anakin's young face. And now it was no longer a fantasy; now it was mere days away from becoming a reality. Elara's Trials were set to start in a day's time. It was possible that Elara would soon be a Jedi Knight; and that was terribly surreal. The thought had her reaching up to run her fingers along her padawan braid. Her fingertips skimmed over the numerous bands of colored thread, over the smooth dips and curves of woven hair.
"You are ready. I know you are. You're gonna be one of the best Jedi that the galaxy's ever known," Anakin said. He spoke softly but candidly, barely above a murmur. It had Elara smiling; because it was the kind of voice she always used to soothe his rattled nerves.
Elara knocked her shoulder against Anakin's, but let her weight list against him fondly. "I heard that Obi-Wan's going to speak with the Council soon," she said.
The corner of Anakin's mouth lifted, and he chuckled breathily. He nodded, brows arching.
"Yeah, he is." His fingers tightened their hold on her hand reflexively. Even though it was now mechanical, his new hand still held the same instinctive response. A nervous tick, a silent plea for comfort and reassurance.
"You'll be ready, I know so," Elara confided gently. "I have no doubt that when you're allowed to undertake the Trials, you'll succeed in passing with flying colors. You've been so devoted to your training, and you've made great strides. That won't be for naught. The amount of faith that you have in me, Ani, I have the same in you."
Anakin dropped his head to rest against hers. The tension in his hand eased a little, relaxed. And, after a moment, he gently nuzzled his head a little, hair ruffling against hers. It was a contented gesture.
"We'll be the best team of Jedi there's ever been," he murmured. He'd addressed such a sentiment before; but this time it sounded more confident than wistful. Despite its quietness, he sounded determined that it would be the case. Anakin then lifted his head, and turned to stare down at Elara. When she turned her gaze upwards, she was fixed with a look both fond and cocky. He squeezed her hand. "They won't know what's coming."
Elara smiled at him and returned the squeeze of his hand. Her eyes gently searched his face, which was softer than she'd seen it in what felt like years. Things were changing, including people. A little over a week ago, she'd marveled at how much Anakin had grown. But he hadn't just grown taller, or honed his skills as a Jedi––he'd grown as a person. Little quirks had developed in his personality, from a sparky attitude, a defiance to authority, and a heart that ached and beat for those he cared for. But something had changed since Geonosis. Elara had clocked it upon his return from Naboo; Anakin walked a little taller, with his shoulders a little more squared. There was a lingering half-smile on his face more often than not. She couldn't put her finger on what had changed, or what had happened to cause that change; and part of her, as his big sister, was bothered by that. But whatever it was seemed to have inspired a newfound kind of confidence, an assurity in himself. And for that, Elara had to be happy. Because confidence was something that everyone was going to need in the face of these trying times.
OOOO
The sheer amount of force with which Elara hit the ground caused all the air to leave her lungs. Her eyes screwed shut at the shock of pain that radiated up her spine. But despite the impact, despite the pain, her hand remained tightly curled around her lightsaber; she could not let it roll away. Not now.
"Concede!" shouted Mace Windu. He was stalking towards her, having just Force-thrown her across the Trial room. The vibrant purple blade of his lightsaber glowed at his side. His expression was schooled in one of intense concentration.
A bead of sweat rolled down the side of Elara's flushed face. The short tail at the back of her head had come undone, which left her hair hanging messily. With a grimace, she planted her feet on the ground and, with a grunt, pushed herself up. Her eyes, sharp despite her exhaustion, met Windu's unwaveringly. Her wordless response to his order came by way of her raising her lightsaber. The blue light shone across her sweat dappled face, turned the pinkness of her cheeks purple, almost. Every muscle in her body ached. Her lungs hurt. But backing down was not an option.
This was her Trial of Skill.
This Trial required an immense amount of self-discipline. It consisted of three challenges––that of physicality, mental acuity, and combat prowess. For Elara, the first two challenges passed with enough ease to make her skeptical. The Trials were not supposed to be easy. They were meant to push her knowledge and skill sets to the brink. That illusion of ease was shattered the minute she saw who her combatant would be. It would have been a lie if Elara didn't admit her heart had plummeted when Windu had walked into the room. Because, of all the stories she'd heard of Trials past, it was rare for anyone to be pitted against the Head of the Jedi Council. If the weight of taking the Trials of Knighthood hadn't already struck her, it certainly had then. She was truly being tested––because if there was one person who wasn't going to pull hits, it was Mace Windu.
They'd been battling it out for thirty some minutes. Both combatants were sweaty and breathing belabouredly. Their attacks came in spurts, where they'd meet, fight, and push away to catch their breath. Windu had taken to interspersing the attacks with sharp comments; they were meant to distract and provoke. They were part of the test. He was trying to get her to break, to lose discipline and clarity. And some of those words were barbed. They hurt. Stung like the scrape of a thorn. But they didn't hurt any more than the ache in her muscles. She let them wash over her and slip away, just as she'd been trained to do.
With a flourished twirl of his saber, Windu closed the distance between them and swung it towards Elara. She thrust her blade upwards, blocking the blow sharply. Her teeth were bared with the effort it took to hold the Jedi Master's weapon at bay. She could feel the soles of her boots slipping across the trial room floor. Feel the watery trembling of her arms.
"Concede," he pressured for the hundredth time.
Elara grit her teeth and with a throaty grunt, pushed all of her weight against Windu's saber. He pushed back, and she skidded a couple steps backward. With their blades crossed and humming between them, he leaned forward with a deadly slowness.
"When you fail, I'll personally see to it that you're dropped back on that speck of sand you called home," he droned, eyes wide. Elara's gaze locked with his unflinchingly. "And I will sleep the best I have in years, knowing that I was right all along––that you're nothing but a weak little slave girl from Tatooine. That there's nothing special about you. And then," he pushed a little harder, and Elara's arms were forced in closer to her chest, "I will do the same to your brother."
The comments were harsh. They grated against her ears like metal against glass, scraped over her skin like sand in a forceful wind. A faint bubbling arose in her blood, a slow, simmering anger. Her insecurities were stoked in that moment. It had her arms shaking harder than before. But as Elara breathed in, she allowed herself to inhale those words. And as she did, she calmly revoked the power they held over her. Then, on an exhale, she moved. Elara shoved all of her weight against their sabers, and forced them around in an arc. Once her own weapon was free, and Windu was about to recover, she hooked her ankle around his and pulled. The Head of the Jedi Council hit the floor with a thud. And just as he went to sit up, the blue blade of Elara's lightsaber appeared at his throat.
Their eyes met and Elara panted out one word:
"Concede."
The room was filled with the sound of noisy breathing, mostly on Elara's part. Her shoulders and chest heaved. She stared down at Windu with a steadfast gaze, the point of her blade a respectful distance from his throat. Close enough to be threatening, far enough away for it to be acceptable for a concluded spar. Despite the way her body shuddered with each heavy breath, she held herself with the pride of Jedi. Her head remained high, her shoulders squared, her back straight. And then, she deactivated her lightsaber––and offered her hand.
Windu stared up at her silently for a moment longer. Then, with one corner of his mouth twitching upwards just slightly, Windu took her hand. Elara helped pull him to his feet, and inclined her head respectfully. There was no haughtiness about her, despite the fact she'd just downed one of the most influential Jedi at the Temple. Windu returned her nod, the smallest of smiles––yet the widest she'd ever seen on him––gracing his lips. The harshness of combat had washed away; gone were the tense lines in his face, and the sharp words had fallen from his tongue.
"Well done, Skywalker," he said.
"Thank you, Master," Elara replied.
There was no other praise to be received, for congratulations were not yet in order. This was only the first of five trials. A sense of pride had bloomed in Elara's chest; because she had succeeded in passing the Trial of Skill. It put to rest some of the lingering doubts that had been living in the recesses of her mind. But she knew that she couldn't rely on pride. There were four more trials to endure, and they'd each pitch their own challenges. But, for the time being, Elara was content to know that she really, truly had a genuine shot at succeeding.
And as a reward for passing the first trial, she took a very long, very restful nap.
OOOO
Elara had successfully completed the first three Trials––those of Skill, Courage, and Flesh. As predicted, none of them were easy. And though they'd all left her drained and exhausted, the fourth Trial––that of the Spirit––was touted as being the most mentally taxing. It called for a padawan to look deep within themselves, come face-to-face with the darkness within their own being. Horror stories were whispered among young padawans about this Trial. They were hushed stories of apprentices who lost their minds. Who had delved so deep, and had been so horrified of what they'd seen, that they'd come-to screaming and broken. And with her most recent brush with Darkness, Elara was understandably apprehensive.
But due to the perilous nature of this Trial, those participating were accompanied by a Jedi Master, who would help bring them out of their deep meditative state. And the Jedi that had been elected to accompany Elara was none other than Obi-Wan Kenobi. The suggestion had been made by Yoda, which had sent a pang of surprise rippling through her. The slight squaring of Obi-Wan's shoulders led her to believe that he'd felt the same. He'd cited that their familiarity with one another as comrades would lend itself to the situation; that it would be easier for him to coax her back to reality. But with one sly look, Elara knew what he'd really meant––that their connection, their relationship was strong enough to do so. And despite the fact that Yoda's knowing look had sent a shiver along her spine, she was greatly relieved that Obi-Wan would, in fact, be with her.
Elara had settled herself in the middle of the trial room, sitting cross-legged on the floor. Obi-Wan stood to the side of the room, his presence observant yet unobtrusive. Knowing that he was there, should things go south, also brought an element of ease and comfort to the room. So she rolled her shoulders to release what tension lingered there. Her hands found a comfortable resting spot atop her knees. With one slow breath, Elara allowed her eyes to drift closed. She proceeded to begin her meditation as she always did. She focused on her breathing, and not on the fact that she was being monitored. She kept her attention on herself, and not on the only other person in the room. She treated this as any other meditation session; only this time, she knew she needed to delve into parts of herself she'd yet to explore.
Perhaps it had been minutes. Perhaps hours. But, eventually, through the calm, steady sifting Elara had done through her subconscious, she unearthed something. It felt tender and raw, like a fresh abrasion. It throbbed deep within her chest as she probed at it. Instinctively, she knew that this was what she had been searching for. So she pressed forward, pushed against that rawness with everything she could. Then suddenly––and with a sharp jolt of what she perceived to be pain––Elara broke through. And then it was as though she'd opened her eyes.
For a moment, Elara couldn't actually figure out if she had opened them. It felt like she had; but it also seemed as though an image had blinked to life in her subconscious. She appeared to be standing in the grand entryway of the Jedi Temple. But it was eerily devoid of sound. It was dark outside, yet it didn't appear to be nighttime. It was just empty darkness, like the whole of the Temple had been lifted and dropped into the middle of a void.
Then, there was the echoing sound of footsteps padding against marble steps. The noise, though gentle, seemed akin to that of shattering glass. It disrupted the quietude sharply, suddenly, and without remorse. Elara turned to find that someone was descending the grand staircase. They were swathed in what appeared to be a black robe, the hood of which was drawn over their head. She watched them descend warily, lips twisting into an unsure grimace. Her hand floated towards her belt, fingers ghosting over her lightsaber on instinct. Something about the figure descending the stairs caused a twinge of unrest deep in Elara's chest. It inspired the need to flee, like whoever it was happened to be the most dangerous individual in the galaxy.
When the hooded figure arrived at the bottom of the steps, they stopped. They stood there, like a living shadow, the fabric of what Elara could now identify as a cape, hugged tightly around them.
"Who are you?" Elara ventured to ask.
There was a soft chuckle, teasing in nature. Two hands appeared from inside the cape, which was brushed aside as the hands rose. Lithe fingers, covered by black gloves, pinched the edge of the hood and tugged it back. The smiling face that greeted Elara had her blanching.
"I'm you," hummed her mirror image.
Except it wasn't a mirror image. The woman that Elara was staring was, undoubtedly, herself; but everything about her was wrong. The cape, made of a supple black fabric, was attached at the shoulders to a form-fitted red tunic. The collar was elegantly embroidered with black and orange floral designs. Black trousers seemed to blend in with knee-high black boots. A lightsaber hitt dangled dangerously from a black belt, which cinched at her waist. Hair cascaded to her waist, and was braided back at the temples; hints of thin red and orange ribbon seemed to be woven amongst the intricate plaits. And, perhaps most startling were the eyes––they glowed with the dangerous, mottled yellow-orange one typically associated with the Sith.
"You're not," Elara croaked weakly. Because she knew she was wrong. This woman was her, there was no denying it.
She watched as her doppleganger arched an eyebrow, as her mouth lifted in a smirk. "Aren't I?" She spread her arms as though to present herself. The grin that split across her face was wide and disconcerting. It was filled with a kind of glee that Elara wasn't familiar with. It was a vicious gleefulness. The kind of happiness that one derived from someone else's pain. "Though, I suppose, I'm not Elara Skywalker. I let go of that name some time ago, for I found something more fitting of my––our––situation. Darth Carus." The smile on Carus' face waned into something smaller, more sinister. "We are Darth Carus."
A chill ran through Elara's body. Her expression hardened at the suggestion that they were one-in-the-same. She shook her head. "You may be… but I am not," she said determinedly.
Carus laughed delightedly. She began to walk towards her, cape billowing around her in a manner far too dramatic. The muscles in Elara's legs tensed so quickly that her entire body wobbled. Something deep in her gut wanted her to turn tail and run. But she forced herself to stay put, because turning her back on this wasn't something she could do. She was meant to confront the darkest part of herself, and she had found it. It was sauntering towards her with slow, deliberate steps, the smile slowly disappearing.
"But you will be," Carus warned. The smile had faded from her face completely, now. Her expression had fallen to something blatantly sorrowful. Heartache and pain were etched into the frown-lines on her face. It glowed in her molten eyes. Both of her eyebrows vaulted, which softened the look into something that was almost aloof. "And it's all because of this." Carus laid a gloved hand over her heart. Elara watched her pat the spot. "You count your heart as one of your only virtues. But it will be the cause of your downfall."
When Carus' hand fell away, it revealed that something had been pinned to her tunic in the exact same spot. The delicate, blue-white bloom of the snow blossom from Gleann. Elara felt her blood turn cold at the sight of it. Her eyes snapped back up to meet Carus'; her face had gone dangerously impassive. It was frightening how quickly emotion flitted across her features. Elara had become so used to having to school her expressions carefully to keep her inner life hidden. Carus had no fear in letting her see what she felt, and that, somehow, was deeply unsettling.
"You must kill your own heart," Carus insisted. Her tone was simultaneously hushed, broken, and reverent. A glassiness formed in her eyes, which sat below sharply furrowed brows. Suddenly, her hand shot out and grabbed the front of Elara's tunic. She hoisted her closer with zero effort, their nearly identical faces mere inches from each other. "For if you don't, it will kill everyone that you hold dear."
In a fit of instinct, Elara wrenched her saber hilt off her belt, thrust it towards Carus' middle, and pressed its button. With the gasping hiss of its activation, a faint blue light glowed between the women. Carus' magma-like eyes had blown wide. Simultaneously, both of them looked down to observe what had been done; Elara had run Carus through. But there was no gasp of shock or pain. Instead––she started to laugh. It began as a low chuckle, before it built into something louder and larger. Carus looked up sharply, hair fluttering around her face. Elara gaped and, in a bid to get away from her as quickly as possible, quickly withdrew her lightsaber.
But as the lightsaber was drawn from Carus' body, something odd happened. Its color changed. It now glowed a hot ruby red. There was little time to gawp in horror, however; because just as she considered the damning color of the blade, someone spoke.
"Elara…?"
Her head whipped towards where Darth Carus had just stood––because it was not her voice that had spoken. Instead it was Obi-Wan who stood before her, face pale. His eyes bored into hers with a look of abject heartbreak and confusion. Elara's eyes widened as a drip of blood tipped out of the corner of his mouth. It was then that she noticed that his hand was pressed to his stomach; where a very obvious lightsaber wound had bored a hole through his middle.
"No…" she muttered. "No, no, no…" Just as she reached a hand forward, reached for his face, Obi-Wan dropped. He crumpled to the floor in a motionless heap, brilliant blue eyes hazed over and staring into nothing.
Elara, with her hand hanging out in open air, felt tears spill from her eyes. She stared down at Obi-Wan and felt her heart shatter. She'd killed him. Her eyes slowly migrated to the lightsaber in her hand. It burned red, hummed with an unnatural dissonance. With a sharp, trembling breath, Elara dropped it, her hand cramping up like it had just been shoved against hot coals.
She felt two hands curl around her shoulders.
"Kill your heart," Carus hissed in her ear. Elara shook her head, unable to tear her eyes away from Obi-Wan's body. The hands tightened, and Carus cooed lowly. "Ahh, don't fret––because no matter what, you'll always have our dear Ani…"
With a sharp shove, Elara was sent tumbling towards the floor, towards Obi-Wan's body. She let out a yelp, and her eyes scrunched shut. Both hands flew out to either catch herself or break her fall. And when her palms met the floor––it was cold. Ice cold. Confused, Elara pried her eyes open to find that the ground was covered in snow. A shocked breath puffed out her mouth in a cloud of condensation. She pressed her fingers down firmly, and found that the ground gave way slightly; it was snow. It was firmly packed, so much so that it had almost become ice. Slowly, she sat back on her haunches and pried her hands off the floor.
Elara was greeted with a most unfamiliar, and most unusual sight when she looked up. She was knelt in a hallway carved out of snow. The walls and ceiling were ridged, which made it evident that they'd been formed by way of machine. Pipes and cables, all either painted white or so coated in frost they might as well have been, looped and dipped along the walls. There were palettes spaced out on the ground, which seemed to be there for purposes of giving traction. It was unlike anything Elara had ever seen. And while seeing a whole hallway––and perhaps complex––made of ice and snow was awe-inspiring to a desert native… she couldn't help but feel terribly confused.
Elara reached up and grabbed hold of a pipe. She hauled herself to her feet, head spinning and heart pounding. There was a soft crunch as her boots pressed into the snowy flooring. She was quick to spin around, fearing that Carus would be there waiting. But there was no one to be seen; the hall simply continued on till it branched off into two other passages. A relieved sigh left her mouth, and billowed out in a visible cloud. Uncomfortable, confused, and cold, Elara curled her arms around herself and squeezed tight.
"Lari."
That was Anakin's voice. It sounded pained––scared. On instinct, and with hackles rising, Elara turned towards the source.
"Ani?" she asked as she turned on her heel.
But instead of seeing her brother, she saw something else entirely. A tall figure in all black was sweeping towards her. A sharp yelp of surprise tore from Elara's mouth as the figure made to plow into her. It was approaching too fast to get a good look at it––all she could make out was the dramatic billow of a cape, and the glint of light off something shiny. The approach was accompanied by a feeling of resolute terror. This, like Carus, was something to be afraid of. What felt to be two arms ensnared her and hauled her off her feet and into total darkness. Then, Elara heard something; a hollow gasping sound, a mechanic click, and slow hissing release of air. It was a sound that sent chills through her body, and twisted her gut with fear.
And then, she was falling.
It felt like Elara was plummeting through the abyss. The sick feeling of free-fall writhed in her stomach. Without seeing them, she could feel her arms and legs kicking and flailing, hoping to find purchase on something. But there was nothing. Nothing but bleak darkness, the end of which was not in sight. Panic and fear set in. A scream tore from Elara's mouth––or at least she thought it did. She couldn't hear it, but it felt like she was screaming. This terrible combination of feelings continued for what felt like an eternity. Lungs ached and gasped for air, though it felt like there was nothing there to gasp for. Her fingers desperately fought to find something to cling to, but there was nothing there––till suddenly there was.
Her fingers came into contact with something soft and pliant. So they clung tightly, balling into whatever it was. Faintly, Elara could hear something. The sound was firm and insistent, yet soothing. She desperately wanted to move towards it, to hear more of it, to listen to it get louder. Instinctively, her hands curled tighter around what they'd found purchase on and pulled. There was some resistance, but the sound got louder––and she realized that it wasn't just a sound, it was a voice. Warm and comforting, pleading and worried. Despite the panic of feeling like she couldn't breathe, like she was still falling into the black abyss, Elara knew she had to focus on this voice. Because if she didn't, she'd be lost.
Then, like someone had cut a taut string, the illusion shattered in a graceless burst of noise.
The first thing that Elara heard was the screaming. It was desperate and broken and wild. It took her a moment to realize that she was screaming. It had become a whole body effort to do so––all her muscles were tensed. Her fingers were curled like claws, her head was craned back, and her back was arched off the floor. The floor; how had she ended up on the floor? Through the screaming, she was aware there was only one other sound, and it competed with the volume of her cries.
"Elara!" It was Obi-Wan who was calling her name. It wasn't quite a shout, but it was loud and insistent. "Elara, come back to me!"
Her eyes shot open, sharp and sudden. They were blown wide as the last shriek of sound left her mouth. Above her, Obi-Wan hovered, hair drooping around his face. He was remarkably close to her, their noses separated by some six inches or so. It was then she became aware that the reason he was so close was because her hands were fisted violently around the front of his tunic. Obi-Wan stared at her with thinly veiled concern alight in his eyes, which were blown just as wide as hers. The way that his eyebrows started to furrow led her to believe that she must have been in quite the state. Because despite the fact that he'd successfully pulled her out of that void, she must not have seemed totally there.
"Elara…" he said, softer this time.
Something shifted against the nape of her neck––his hand. He'd been firmly gripping the nape of her neck, as though to keep her head from thrashing. His other hand was braced beside her head to keep his own balance. Both of those hands slowly, cautiously, rose to touch her forearms. They glided carefully up to her wrists, which he gently took hold of. Elara had been breathing hard, like she'd just outrun death itself. In that moment, the only things in the universe that existed were herself and Obi-Wan. Her eyes didn't dare stray from his. Those eyes were her saving grace. But those eyes… she'd seen those eyes go dull and hazy with lack of life. At the memory, her hands tightened around his collar again, and jolted him a little closer. Her face screwed up in pain, and the quietest whimper buzzed behind her lips.
"You're alright," Obi-Wan murmured. He squeezed her wrists gently, began to run his thumbs across her skin in soothing swipes. "Whatever you saw… you're not there anymore. You're safe. Understand?" It was all Elara could do to stare up at him, heart aching at the thought of what she'd seen. He gently raised his eyebrows. "Understand?"
It took a moment for Obi-Wan's words to fully register. While she slowly absorbed them, as her frazzled brain made sense of them, she watched his expression shift. There was the slow draw of his eyebrows, the sharp curl of a frown, the frantic darting of his eyes. He was scared. Fearful that she wasn't going to go come-to, that she was lost to whatever false-reality she'd found deep within herself. That look was enough to shatter what remained of the terrifying illusion.
Elara's eyes fell to her hands, which still clutched at Obi-Wan's clothes with a fury. Her knuckles had gone white, and the fabric had been pulled so intently against his skin, that it had been rubbed red. It took far too much focus and effort to do so, but she released the front of his tunic. Every layer of his tunic had been ravaged by her hands, pulled looser and pulled open in her unconscious, desperate attempt to find something to hold onto. If the situation had been different, she might have noted there was more of his chest exposed than she'd ever seen before. Elara's eyes darted back up to his, and she found that his expression had changed again––this time, relief had softened his features.
"Sorry…" she whispered hoarsely. That single word grated against her throat, which had been screamed raw.
Above her, Obi-Wan shook his head, and gently squeezed her wrists again. "No need for that. It's what I was here for."
Elara nodded wordlessly. When he released the hold he had on her arms, she let her hands drop to cover her eyes. She took a long, composing breath. Everything that she'd seen had been something concocted by her subconscious, to make her face her deepest fears, the darkest parts of herself. And it had felt so real, so much so that she'd almost let it drown her, almost lost herself in it. It was terrifying to think that she had the potential to destroy herself. That she'd almost broken herself, simply by way of confronting the darkest parts of her psyche. But, Elara supposed, that was the point of this particular Trial. To come to terms that she was not invincible, and that she had the great potential to be her own worst enemy. Her own downfall.
After a moment, Elara braced her hands against the floor and went to push herself up. Every helpful, and ever the gentleman, Obi-Wan placed a hand on her back to help guide her to sitting. She nodded in thanks, drew her knees up, and braced her arms across them. There was a pounding in her head. Her limbs all ached. Her heart was rattled.
Her heart.
With eyes downcast, Elara placed a hand over her heart. Her fingers gently curled into the fabric of her tunic. The words of Darth Carus tickled the forefront of her mind: kill your heart. The advice brought tears prickling to her eyes. It was a terrible thing to think that, no matter how dark, some part of her had made such a request. For as much as she had been taught to ignore the beatings of her heart, the way it throbbed in sorrow, swelled with happiness, to ignore its guidance––she couldn't. It was still very much a part of everything she did, even if it wasn't supposed to be.
From what Elara could initially glean, the Darkness deep within her was born of sorrow, from heartbreak. From losing her heart by way of losing those she cared for. Darth Carus' solution to that was to stop caring; to preemptively prevent that pain. To kill her own heart before it could get hurt. The threat of the Darkness within Elara was fueled by two things––love and loss. But if loss was what was going to drag her into the abyss, if severing her love for those around her was what sent her falling into the void, she'd do her damndest to avoid that. If it meant that she had to listen to her heart a little more closely, she'd happily allow it to start to guide her.
Because killing her heart wasn't an option––especially when it lived in the eyes of her brother, and Obi-Wan Kenobi.
Afterword: Happy to be back with a new chapter! I needed to take a break for a little bit, 'cause I think I burned myself out. I wasn't feeling the best, and I knew that anything I turned out during that time was gonna be terrible. So, after a bit of a wait, I'm happy to have finally gotten this chapter up! It's a bit episodic, but I didn't want to focus a whole lot on describing Elara's trials––just a couple of snippets that I thought would either be interesting or important. We're maybe a chapter and a half before we initiate the Clone Wars series! Very excited for that!
Review Replies!
hayleyneal2001: Oh, don't worry, we'll have the Satine episodes! I've already got some plans for how I believe that Elara and Satine will interact with one another. When I decided I'd venture into the Clone Wars series, I knew that I'd have to include Satine. I hope that you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
Amelia831: When we get to RotS, there's gonna be a lot of interesting dynamic shifts between Elara and Anakin. We're gonna see some of the startings of that during the CWs, and it's really gonna be a time for Ani when stuff about sitting the Council comes up. Also, I'm so happy you brought up Cal Kestis! For a hot second, I was like "Could I… get away… with him being her padawan." I realized no, I can't, but it would be very fun, and very interesting, for her to have a padawan similar to him. I feel like their personalities would just… click. And get ready, 'cause full-fledged haughty CW Anakin is coming––and Elara's gonna be there to try and manage him, with sass, lingering looks of disappointment, and the threat of embarrassing stories. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again! (P.S., your question about Dark!Elara actually fueled inspiration for the chunk about her taking the Trial of Spirit!)
MotherAiya: Yeah, after the last time I posted things got a bit rough again. But, I took the time to recuperate and such, and I'm feeling much better. I hope that things are going better for you, too; it's just a rough time for everyone right now, so I'm happy to be able to provide some relief with my writing when I can! I hope that you enjoyed the chapter and that you're doing well; thanks again!
canopusXI: I'm glad that the slow-burn is working well! We're reaching the boiling point of the slowness, though… it's all gonna start bubbling up and bubbling over! They're gonna face a fair amount of adversity as they traverse on their romantic journey, but it's gonna be worth it. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
MsRosePetal: Obi-Wan is… a dork when he's in love. His quiet little to-himself moments of acknowledging what he feels are just so pure; but just think of when he can finally admit them to her. I will… absolutely die. The "rest well, my dear," was certainly the simplest, but most laden thing that he's probably ever said to her. Because, we all know Obi-wan––admitting, out loud, what he feels, is not going to be easy. So it's the subtext that's important in moments like those! I hope that you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
Pinnney: Ahh, thank you so much! I adore Obi-Wan as a character so much that I take great pains to try and keep him in character. Because there's so much about him that's so specific, so I'm very glad to hear that I've been successfully portraying him! And I'm equally as happy to hear that Elara fits well into the world and the storyline, and that she seems to exist well in the canon universe! And you're absolutely right, when the Clone Wars start, and Elara's given moments to shine… people are gonna be shook. She'll still have time with Yoda, but their dynamic will have shifted; for as much as it's been fun writing them as Master-Padawan, I'm looking forward to writing them more as colleagues.
I'm also absolutely flattered that you come back to this story to re-read favorite chapters! And I'm more than happy to be able to provide you with some reading material during quarantine. I've found that being creative, for me, has helped me through a lot of the rough patches during this time; and I'm only happy to be able to put my writing out there to give people something to read and look forward to! I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
msbeku1: Don't worry about when you review! I get that life is hectic and crazy, especially with school being part of it. And I thought it was important to address the tenuousness and fear associated with the start of the Clone Wars. 'Cause we don't get to see that. I imagine that it's like any other war––the people who are going to be directly involved with it are gonna be worried. So I thought it would be nice to have Yoda and Elara have a nice discussion about it. The Clone Wars are certainly going to be difficult for Elara, but she's really going to grow into herself and as a Jedi.
Elara and Obi-Wan definitely have a special bond. And I think that's not something they're really gonna realize till they're in the throes of war. Because it's easy to kind of ignore or re-name whatever it is they're feeling for and about each other when given the chance to do so. But when you're under fire, worrying for the safety of those you care for, it's hard to ignore it for what it is. Also, I live for flustered Obi-Wan, and, quite frankly, flustered Elara. We haven't seen much of flustered Elara, but OH, we certainly will.
I thought of the meditation thing an age ago and was like 'this… this needs to be they're first private, intimate moment with each other.' Because it shows just how much they trust one another. How much they're willing to put themselves in the other's hands. The pure, blind faith they have that the other person will be there for them. The "rest well, my dear" moment is a big ol' step for Obi-Wan. They're both about to be in free-fall regarding their affections for one another, and I am here for it. Also, I've got the confessions planned out… get ready.
I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again, and I hope you're well!
Duchess of Lantern Waste: Thank you so much! I'm glad that you enjoyed the last chapter, and hope you enjoyed this one, too!
PrettyRecklessLaura: I hope you enjoyed the chapter! I was antsy to finally get this one up. Thanks again!
Dally'sTUFF: The Skywalker siblings, both in love, both near constantly heart-stick… the conversations they could have. The conversations they probably will have, even if they've not yet picked up on the other's situation quite yet. I've been trying to integrate more of Obi-Wan's pov, so that when things come to a head for the romance portion of this story, it doesn't just feel like he's suddenly in love. I want to pay just as much attention to how his feelings are developing. I've been doing better this past week! The burn-out was real and it was rough. But I'm feeling much better! I hope that you enjoyed the chapter, and are doing well! Thanks again!
DCDGojira: Oh, I absolutely mean that Anakin sulks and grimaces as Elara tells embarrassing stories––to Obi-Wan, Padmé, and the Clones. It's gonna be prime big-sister, little-brother dynamic. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
bambam411: When I finally got to write Obi-Wan using a term of endearment for Elara last chapter, I was ecstatic. Because he means it. He's toppled over the edge, now, and he's gonna be scrambling to figure out how to navigate it all. I'm sorry to hear that your grandfather is doing poorly, and I hope that things start to look up! But I'm happy that this story has been there to help you/distract you. I cannot thank you, and everyone else, for the support y'all give me for this story. I hope that you're doing well! Thanks again!
Shadow Wolf 15846: The Clone Wars are, indeed, starting! And, chances are, Elara will probably end up with a padawan. I don't know when, exactly, but it's more than likely going to happen. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
lil-anon: I'm happy that you've found the chapter and have been enjoying it so much! I've had a lot of fun with the challenge of keeping all the canon characters true to themselves, while also trying to figure out how to write their development (such as figuring out how Ani grows into that haughty, cocksure young man in the Clone Wars). I've also had a lot of fun developing Elara as a character, and I'm happy to hear that she exists well in the canon world! I hope that you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
Aryabloodlust: In my little break, I developed a few more ideas, and I'm very much looking forward to getting to write them! I hope that you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
And thank you to those that added this to their follows/favorites; it means a lot!
So, like I said, only a chapter or so till we hit the Clone Wars officially! I've got a short list of things that need to get addressed prior to the series happening (like Anakin getting that damn mystery scar), and once those are addressed, we'll be in the thick of it. I'm really looking forward to jumping into the series, because… so much is going to happen. And I've got some ideas that might twist the canon a bit… but I think it'll still be fun. I hope y'all enjoyed the chapter, and thanks again for being so lovely and patient!
~Mary