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.
48. Emotion, Yet Peace
Two starfighters cut across the serene, star studded blanket of space over Coruscant. The wove and twirled around each other in a manner that much resembled a kind of dance. It was a graceful display. The way the ships moved, one would think that the pilots were one in the same. That they had choreographed each dip of the wing, each simultaneous spiral. But these movements were not pre-planned. They were instinctual. For Elara and Anakin Skywalker flew as they fought––as though they shared the same mind. Their Force bond allowed them to sense the next move the other would make, and guide them to respond appropriately. It resulted in those elegant, looping spirals, which would put other experienced pilots to shame.
It also prevented them from crashing into one another––which was why Elara didn't flinch as Anakin's fighter careened past her own in a streak of blue, the tip of its wing almost flipping her own.
"Whooo!" crowed Anakin.
The cry crackled through Elara's headset, the triumphant whooping buzzing in her right ear. His ship was vibrant against the dark blanket of space, and it was eye-catching as it pulled past her own fighter. They had been flying neck-in-neck for a while now. This had allowed them to exercise the more flourished aspects of flying; there wasn't always time, place, or circumstance to pull some fancy flight-work in the heat of battle. But being familiar with those techniques often came in handy; it always confused Separatist droids when, suddenly, their adversary was flying upside down and over them. Up ahead, as though to practice this kind of maneuver, Anakin's ship was thrown into a controlled spin.
R3 screeched indignantly at being passed; he had a competitive streak, Elara had discovered.
"Don't worry, Arthree," she comforted, flicking a switch that rerouted extra power to the thrusters. "We've still got some tricks up our sleeves…"
There was a low rumble as the thrusters engaged and pushed the starfighter to go faster. Elara pressed the necessary buttons and flipped the correct switches; her eyes darted to displays and took stock of the readings. For as much fun as they were having, this was still technically a test flight. They still needed to be aware if any of the readings went awry. But the readings were normal, and the ship was flying well. More than well, even. For Elara was quick to catch up with Anakin without issue, much to R3's trilled delight. The corners of her mouth lifted unprompted, an innate––though tentative––joy coming from what she was doing. She'd forgotten how much she enjoyed doing this––flying for fun. Pulling a maneuver because she wanted to and because she knew that she could. To do these things and not be pulled into the Council Chamber to be reprimanded for 'recklessness.' Stars, if someone called her reckless one more time, she might lose the rest of her sanity.
"Don't get too cocky," Elara hummed into her headset. There was a faint flatness to her voice that was unbidden. A result of exhaustion, most likely. Of making an effort to focus on something much less daunting than what had exhausted her. She and Anakin were neck-in-neck once again; when she turned a glance out of the left side of her canopy, she could see him in the cockpit of his ship. He was shaking his head fondly, a crooked smile twirling at the corner of his mouth.
"You're talking to the only human Boonta Eve Race champion, Lari; I think I've got a right to be cocky," he shot back.
Simultaneously both siblings tipped their crafts sideways––Anakin to the left, Elara to the right. The both flew completely sideways for a moment, allowing a hunk of space rock to pass between them. They evened out once it passed them by, and flew wing-to-wing once more.
"And I've been flying longer than you have. Don't count me out just yet," she quipped.
"Flying speeders longer than me."
Elara clucked her tongue at the emphasized qualifier. Though, he wasn't wrong. Anakin was the first one of them to fly a starfighter during the Battle of Naboo. With that thought brushed aside, however, she pushed the yoke forward without another word, which urged the fighter even faster. Their friendly competitiveness was truly putting these ships through their paces; and they were both very lucky they'd been repaired properly. Her ship edged forward, steadily pulling ahead of Anakin's. Once she was able to, she shifted left sharply, putting his fighter directly behind her own.
"Oh, very mature," Anakin drawled.
A smile grew gently at the corners of Elara's mouth. They'd been flying for almost a full hour at this point, and just as Anakin had promised, it was a marvelous distraction. There was no thinking about what had transpired the night before, because she had to focus on maintaining a steady flight path. She was too busy bantering with her brother to linger on the words that had wounded her heart. None of it was erased, none of it was forgotten, but it helped. It would be hard to forget when her heart ached with each wounded throb. The smiles that she managed still had a weight to them, not quite reaching her eyes when they quirked at the corners of her mouth. It was all still too fresh to put behind her completely. This, the racing, was a much needed breath of fresh air; but it also reminded Elara that she'd been holding her breath for so long, and that the minute they set foot back on Coruscant, she'd likely be holding it again.
It wasn't long before a faint shadow passed through the transparisteel canopy. Elara glanced up to see Anakin pass overhead. The whole ship was inverted, which allowed her to see his cocky grin as he passed over her. She rolled her eyes fondly. This was how they competed––with all of the seriousness of a playful shove. They ribbed one another verbally and with show-offy moves, not truly caring who it was that came out on top. It was a playful show of technique and prowess that they could only do with one another. For if they ever tried this with anyone else, they'd surely be called 'show-offs' and other choice names grumbled into the comm system. On Tatooine this sort of stuff would get them in trouble; Elara could recall a handful of glowered looks thrown her way after speeder races. And it was impossible to forget the sneers of older pod-racers, leveled at herself and Anakin as they climbed out of their janky crafts. Those sneers hadn't because they'd won––they were because the Skywalkers had the audacity to be good enough to survive the race.
To the galaxy, that was perhaps the most audacious thing the Skywalkers had ever done––survive.
By all accounts, it would have seemed that they were doomed to lives of misery. They'd been born into a slave's life, tethered to a barren desert planet. They had no prospects of any sort, only the promise that one day their entire family would be torn apart. Watto likely would have sold Anakin to someone who'd use his strength for hard labor; and with his mechanic's skills, he'd likely have ended up on some shoddy moisture farm. Elara would likely have been sold back to the Hutts for entertainment purposes; she'd have spent an entire life serving drinks and dancing for thugs with wandering hands. And Shmi would have been left to wither away, forever lonely, in their empty hovel. But beyond that miserable promise, life had dealt them a bad hand. Tatooine was lawless and one was just as likely to die in a cantina shoot-out as they were in a Tusken raid or heat exhaustion. Due to their yet-to-be-identified Force abilities, they'd been forced to pod-race; humans rarely survived those races. It was remarkable that they ever walked off that track alive. With the lot that they'd been given, there was no reason that the Skywalkers should have lived happy, successful lives.
And yet they had, and they did.
Against all odds they had bettered their lives––even Shmi, short lived as it was. The idea of survival was a comforting thought. A reminder that they had lived through hardship, and could do so again. That was something that Elara had needed to be reminded of; a thought that, as it flashed through her head, brought her a hopeful peace. Miniscule as that bit of peace was, it was much welcomed. For it reminded her that this, too, would come to pass. That this was something that she could survive. It would not take her down, it would not continue to drag her through the dirt, and she would be a stronger, better person on the other side of this mess. And behind that initial burst of determination, Anakin's words from earlier that morning echoed. Find a path that allows you to remain true to yourself. All of this was a great undertaking––from the realization that this wouldn't be forever, to the determination––and much easier said than done. But wasn't acknowledgement a good first step? It had to be. For no matter how daunting the steps beyond it felt, taking that first one was imperative.
By the time the race was brought to a close, there was no definitive winner. They'd crossed their self-appointed finish line neck-in-neck, though Anakin's starfighter seemed to have been a couple inches ahead of her own. This caused them to faux-argue about whether or not he'd truly won as they cruised back into Coruscant's atmosphere. Ultimately, of course, it didn't matter. They'd had fun––flown as though they hadn't a care in the galaxy. As though they could do it all day without fear of being called away. Like there wasn't a war on, one that so often demanded their undivided attention. This meant that, by the time they'd returned the starfighters to the repair hangar, both of the Skywalkers were smiling.
A clone mechanic with a datapad jogged towards the siblings once the fighters had landed. He was the same mechanic who'd seen them off, forever thankful that two Jedi had offered to do the 'menial' task of checking the fighters over. When the canopies disengaged and lifted, he nodded to both Skywalkers.
"Welcome back, sirs. How'd they fly?" he asked.
"Like a dream," Elara replied. She pulled her brassy-gold headset off, pausing momentarily to detangle some of her hair from it. Once free, she hooked it around the yoke and hopped out of the ship. Her hair fell loosely into her face, as she'd not clipped it before leaving her room. It was getting longer, much to her quiet delight; but much to her annoyance, it was at the length where it either cooperated just fine, or was perfectly annoying.
Anakin hopped out of his starfighter, which he then nodded to. "No issues at all. We really ran them through their paces; thanks for letting us take them out."
"Thank you for offering," the mechanic replied. "Gave us the chance to look over some other crafts, which the boys really appreciated. Sooner we get 'em fixed, sooner we can get 'em back out there." He spoke with a determined, unwavering enthusiasm. It was refreshing to hear, given that the war was already dragging down people's hope that it would ever come to an end. He then pivoted towards Elara, eyebrows vaulted. "Oh, and a call came in for you, sir––the Chancellor's requested your presence in the Senate Gardens."
And all at once, Elara felt paralyzed. On any other day, the request simply would have made her internally grown. But this was not any other day. Her current state was one of fragility, like a thin sheet of already fractured ice. The simple mention of Palpatine shattered what peace she'd found while flying. The feeble shims that Anakin had used to stabilize her snapped. The world proceeded to crumble and curl at the corners, threatening to smother her. For the Chancellor always inspired dread within her; and that dread had manifested in jagged memories of the night prior. Of the tumultuous emotions, the sharp edged words. Of the frown on Obi-Wan's lips as they formed the word 'trivial,' and how she much preferred to see them lift in a smile as he drawled 'my dear.' It all overwhelmed her for a moment where all she could do was stare at the mechanic.
"Ah," was what Elara initially managed. Tired eyes fell closed as her eyebrows arched. "Did he say what for?"
"No, sir. Just that he should like to see you as soon as possible."
"Right. Thank you for passing the message along."
The mechanic inclined his head. "Of course, sir. And thank you both, again, for doing the test flight." He proceeded to move towards the starfighter Anakin had been flying, waving over a few other mechanics as he went.
Elara lifted both hands and pressed them to her feet. She couldn't suppress her sigh of discontent, which was muffled against her palms. When her hands fell away, she could feel the heaviness of her own expression, like the muscles in her face were immovable. The painful throb of her heart grew worse, and her hand fell to rest in the middle of her chest. Her fingers curled slightly, like she could clutch the shattered pieces of her heart, gather them together, and shove them back into place.
"It's just the Chancellor," Anakin pointed out, echoing his words from a day prior. "Could've been worse."
"I just…" don't trust him. I don't have the energy for this. I can't do this. Elara mashed her lips and sighed. "Don't want to work today."
A warm arm draped itself over her shoulders. Anakin took one step forward, and started to pull her along. She allowed him to do so, knowing she'd much rather stay rooted to the spot than go meet with Palpatine. They both started to slowly walk across the hangar, which was buzzing with afternoon activity. Thunderous clanks of shifting metal met the hissing of welding sparks. Mechanics jogged to-and-fro, toting carts of parts and arms full of tools. Life was going on as normal, all while Elara's felt like it was playing in half-motion.
"You don't know that this is business," Anakin pointed it out.
Elara grunted a noncommittal, hopeless sound. "We're at war. It's always business."
"Maybe he just wants to… go for a walk––he did ask you to meet in the gardens, and you are good company."
The thought of a social call with the Chancellor was almost worse than a formal meeting.
"Whatever it is, I suppose I'll have to endure," she sighed.
"How about we go out to dinner tonight? We could take Ahsoka to Dex's, I don't think she's ever been. Or we could get Rex, Acks, and some of the boys to go out for drinks," Anakin suggested. "Give you something to look forward to."
For all of the things that were said about Anakin––he was cocky, he was reckless, he was hot-headed, the best pilot, the Chosen One, the remarkable Jedi for his age––no one ever mentioned his kindness. How passionate he was in the love, caring for, and protection of those he cared for. Be they friends or family, it didn't matter. Anakin would do his damndest to make sure they were well looked after. Everything that he'd done since last night was done for Elara's benefit; to ensure that she regained her footing on solid, walkable ground. It was a side of him that she wished more people saw and acknowledged.
Elara curled her arm around Anakin's middle and she nodded and squeezed him. "Let's go to Dex's. We can invite Rex and Acks, too; I heard it's become quite a popular spot for the troopers."
"It's quickly served good food––of course it's popular. Nothing like grabbing something from Dex's before they ship you out to Felucia," Anakin said, sounding as though he was making an advertisement for the diner.
A quiet, warm chuckle resonated in Elara's chest. The sound was light, but it didn't manage to inspire a matching look on her face. What levity their time together had provided had been thoroughly and unfortunately smothered. The conversation lapsed into quiet, giving way to the ambient sounds of the hangar. After a moment filled with clanging and yelling, she turned a gentle look up at her brother.
"Thank you," she said, voice almost lost in the cacophony of noise. He looked down at her with an inquiring gaze, which she responded to with a squeeze of his torso. "For last night. And this morning."
Understanding washed over his face, which sobered it markedly. He nodded and huddled her closer into his side, a hand squeezing her arm. "Of course. It's sorta what I've gotta do. I'm your brother, afterall."
The gentle aspect of Elara's expression shifted into something a little more stricken. A little taken with emotion, with a gratitude that she wished she knew how to express better. Anakin's eyebrows knitted together in concern, for the look on her face must have resembled something that suggested she was close to tears again. If there were any tears in her eyes, they weren't sad. They were grateful. And instead of shedding any, what Elara did was smile. And this one reached her misted-over eyes.
"I don't know what I'd do without you, Ani," she admitted, voice taking on a slight wobble. "Through all of the pain and the joy that we've been through in our lives, you have always been a constant; and I don't know what my life would be if you weren't in it."
Anakin's blue eyes slightly widened at the sentiment. He stopped walking all together, which, in turn, brought Elara to a complete halt. With a slight weight shift, he angled himself to face her a little better, almost as though he might take her by the shoulders. The surprise in his expression melted into something softer, though it still created a slight furrow between his eyebrows.
"I don't know what I'd do without you, either, Lari," Anakin said, returning the sentiment in kind. "I… I'd do anything for you. Anything at all. You're very important to me and I… I don't think I could live with myself if I ever let anything happen to you. 'Cause I can't lose you… I just can't."
Elara reached up and clasped his cheek with a hand; his lifted to gently hold her wrist. "You won't," she promised.
It was, of course, a promise that she could not guarantee. But it's one that she wholeheartedly conveyed, just as he would do for her. The war didn't make these promises easy to keep, and, quite frankly, neither did the life of a Jedi. But it was one that Elara would cling tight to for as long as possible. Because if there was one thing the Skywalkers had always had, if there was one thing that got them through the toughest times––it was each other.
OOOO
The typical warm sanctity of the Council Chamber felt chilled to Obi-Wan as he stepped inside. The light streaming in through its many windows was golden in nature, and the marble floor glowed in the late morning sun. Everything about the room should have lent a feeling of unspeakable warmth; a comforting atmosphere that gave way to reverence. And yet––the Jedi Master felt cold, as though there was something shielding him from the benefits of the room that had usually brought him such peace. It made the Chamber feel foreign. Like he was a stranger that was not welcomed there. In the wake of Ryloth, he had felt like a pretender. He had sat in his chair and allowed business to go on as usual, despite the burning, festering secret he clutched close to his chest. But the room had felt unchanged. The atmosphere had been a gross juxtaposition of welcoming warmth against his bruised ego. It had made him uncomfortable as it embraced him and tried to soothe him. And that had baffled him. He'd broken the Code, how could a place of such sanctity wish to comfort him? But now, as Obi-Wan all but emotionally limped into the room, he did not find that same atmosphere. There was a chilled change, where it felt like the light should be cool and blue instead of warm and golden. Like the room had withdrawn its embrace in an effort to throw something into sharp relief.
The question was––what was it trying to show him?
Obi-Wan felt weighed down as he strode through the doors, like his robes weren't made of linen and instead were woven with durasteel. They felt uncomfortable around his neck. So much so that he'd initially worried he'd wrapped them too tight. He had reached up to touch the collar around his throat only to realize that he hadn't. That the tightness was a result of his exhaustion, and a choked chunk of emotion that refused to leave his throat. It showed no sign of disappearing, much to his frustration. It was a constant reminder of his downtrodden ruminations. Of what had transpired the night before. It all threatened to cloud his mind, which simply would not stand. He could not allow that. For as heavily as regret weighed on his mind, for as loudly as that tortured part of himself cried out—walls had to be rebuilt. Defenses had to be reinforced. He had chosen to make this bed; now, he had to sleep in it… no matter how uncomfortable it was.
Obi-Wan walked with his shoulders squared and his head held high. The sliver of control he'd managed to seize was miniscule. It was the fragment of a fragment, small enough to clutch in his palm. But it was enough to maintain a sturdy countenance, one that he would not let waver. It was all he could do to hope that the old adage was true: that so long as he presented himself this way, it would become true. That this false calm would become true, and that the roiling within him would simmer away. In a time rife with loss, he gained this hollow triumph—no one would have been able to guess his inner life was anything but serene. He looked as he did every other day, if not a little more tired. The only being he might worry could see through this façade was Yoda… and that was exactly who he was destined to meet with that morning.
The ancient Jedi sat in his Council seat, eyes closed in the semblance of meditation. The room was empty save for him, but his presence alone made it feel filled. Despite his small stature, Yoda always felt bigger than he physically was. Like he took up more space in just energy alone. Usually this wasn't a bother, but it wasn't any other day. It added to the odd atmosphere of the room and had Obi-Wan wanting to shuffle through it with caution. He instead forced himself to walk as he normally would. Once he crossed through the center of the room, towards his own chair, Yoda hummed.
"Master Kenobi," he greeted.
"Master Yoda," Obi-Wan returned. He sank into his own Council seat, and winced a little at how stiff it felt. The chairs weren't the most comfortable ones in the galaxy, but he'd never clocked it as being stiff before.
Yoda's eyes opened and slowly traveled over to his fellow Jedi. There was a quiet, intense energy in his gaze, like he was trying to glean something from Obi-Wan's presence or appearance. Obi-Wan felt the muscles in his neck tense suddenly, traitorously, as the choked feeling in his throat intensified. There was a quiet half-grunting sound from the elder Jedi, whose eyes narrowed slightly. Then, with a slight nod, he shifted so he sat angled towards him.
"A mission I have for you and Master Skywalker," Yoda said. There was no clarification on which Skywalker he was referring to, and Obi-Wan did not dare ask. "Facing re-election Senator Noth of Gleann is. Pressure the Separatists have been placing on the planet; their neutrality they wish to sway. The election proceedings you are to safely oversee, ensure the safety of the Senator your mandate is. Requested you and Skywalker specifically, Noth has."
The mention of Gleann caused a sensation that was both hot and cold coursing through Obi-Wan's system. His memories of Gleann were bathed in a rosy, breathless light that was soft and warm and beautiful. It carried still images of Elara, endearingly winded with a becoming flush painted across her cheeks, face bathed in the pastel light of sunset. The sight of her head tipped back to catch the rain, expression one of pure bliss, was impossible to forget. His fingertips tingling with the memory of touching her skin as he rubbed soothing ointment on the bruises of her bare back. How was it possible that, so many years later, he was still able to feel the heat of her skin? Despite all the hardship he and Elara had faced, the remembrances he had of that time were nothing short of lovely. It was very much like the delicate blossom that had caused so much chaos.
Gleann had been the start of the path that had led Obi-Wan and Elara to where they were now; and the idea of having to return––and return with her was paralyzing. To the peoples of Gleann, they were betrothed. They were in love. And given the state of their relationship now––the admissions and the denials all tangled together to create something awful––it would be so terribly painful to return. They would have to force a smile and pretend that everything was just as it had been. That they were happy, and worked and lived together harmoniously. It would be a marvelous acting challenge; and one that he was unsure that his heart could endure. For the time he and Elara had spent on Gleann was something close to a sacred sort of memory. It was a place that he had hoped—a silent and suppressed hope—that he'd hoped they might be able to return to one day.
But not like this. Not now. Not anymore.
Obi-Wan cleared his throat and nodded, albeit a little stiffly. "I… am pleased that Senator Noth has requested that Master Skywalker and I return. It would be an honor to return to Gleann to serve its people," he said. There was a slight lift to the end of his statement, however, that spoke of an oncoming exception.
"A problem is there, Master Kenobi?" Yoda asked. His already wrinkled brow furrowed heavily and a critical gleam arose in his eyes. Eyes that had seen more than Obi-Wan could ever hope to witness, that never missed a thing, and interpreted all with miraculous accuity. It was a gaze that pierced through ever feeble defense that the younger Jedi had dressed himself in.
There was a problem, but it was not one that Obi-Wan was willing or able to disclose. A believable excuse needed to be developed. For he had never actively turned down a mission before, nor had he ever asked to be separated from Elara. Lying to Yoda was usually fruitless; he almost always saw through them as though they were made of transparisteel. Obi-Wan didn't take lying lightly, nor did he make a habit of doing it, unless it was called for. But in this instance it was necessary; and he had to try to pass it by Yoda.
"I believe that there are others that could benefit from performing this mandate," he stated simply.
"And instead of you, who do you think should go, hm?"
"Perhaps Anakin," he offered lightly. "Security details are a matter of patience and, in this case, diplomacy. Both of these matters he could always use more practice in. We know him to be quick on the draw, and he's not often dispatched on diplomatic missions. Gleann is the perfect environment for him to perform this exploration. And to have his sister there alongside him would also be to his advantage; if there is anyone who can keep him on the straight and narrow, it's her."
The stated case was a solid one. One with a reasoning so sound that it genuinely made sense––Anakin going in his stead would be truly beneficial for the young Jedi. So much so that it would have been an excellent suggestion to make regardless. And Obi-Wan spoke it with such confidence, as though there were no underlying intention to proposing this. He went as far to drape his arms over the armrests of his chair, and propped his ankle atop the opposite knee. It was his typical seated position, composed yet reclined. He hoped that it added to the façade. That it lent some viable truth to the lie that he continued to spin.
Yoda was quiet for a concerningly long period of time; all he did was stare at Obi-Wan with his wise, piercing gaze. And then his lips thinned into a tight line and he hummed a low sound of consideration. All the while, Obi-Wan's heart thundered in his chest.
"Defer this mission to Skywalker, you do?"
"I believe it would benefit him more than I, yes."
"For the good of the mandate you believe this to be?" he pressed.
The line of questioning was turning in a direction that unsettled Obi-Wan. "Yes, Master."
"Nothing to do, this has, with his sister?" Yoda asked sagely.
Obi-Wan felt his heart plummet. It stuttered and stalled, and choked up in his throat. For the first time in many, many years, he was speechless before the great Master Jedi. Yoda had spoken the inquiry familiarly, as though this were a situation he was already privy to. Like it were a casual conversation topic they'd previously spoken about. Now Obi-Wan was not hubristic enough to believe that Yoda could not, and would not, notice his hidden strife; but there was still an element of surprise in his mentioning it.
"I…" he started, all cognitive thought process stalling. A slight twinge of panicked anxiety tingled through his body. He stopped himself from shifting antsy in his seat, and instead managed to arched his eyebrows. "I'm not sure what you mean."
Yoda, with a quiet grunt, grabbed his walking stick from where it had been propped up against his chair. He braced it firmly against the floor and, with a little efford, hauled himself out of his seat. A steady build of anxiety grew within Obi-Wan as Yoda approached him. He shifted to sit in a less casual position, both feet now planted on the floor. But his arms did not shift from where they rested; his hands had found comfort in gripping the armrests, in what was possibly the only visible display of his discomfort. Yoda stopped before him, directly before him, much in the manner of a Master about to lecture their Padawan. Quite suddenly, Obi-Wan felt rather small under this ancient Jedi's gaze. He hadn't felt this way since he was a Padawan, and it unsettled him deeply.
"Not unnoticed the change between you is. Occurred, a disruption has, and sensed it I have. Strong your connection with Elara is; strong it always has been. And most concerning is this change is… most concerning. Fractured your bond is, painful it has become. Most painful…" Yoda hummed with a shake of his head.
Something became starkly evident in this moment––Yoda knew. Of course he did. It was foolish to believe that he didn't. A secondary realization came hand-in-hand with this other recognition, and it was baffling. He had known, and he'd not done anything. Not said anything or discouraged what he had become privy to. Of all the Jedi that sat on the Council, Obi-Wan had always believed Yoda to be one of those who upheld the Code most faithfully. So why was it that he'd allowed all this to transpire?
A fluttering of Obi-Wan's lashes caused his vision to stutter in intervals of dark and light. The Chamber had gone quiet, an expectant, empty sound that awaited his response. He was pinned under Yoda's unwavering, wise gaze, with no possible chance of escape. All sorts of explanations and excuses jammed up in his throat, threatening to strangle him. He shifted forward to the edge of his seat, a desperate intake of breath pulling in through his mouth. With a voice that trembled gently, all he could manage to say was:
"Master Yoda––"
But the elder Jedi was quick to interrupt. "Aware you are of the Jedi Precepts, and faithfully you have followed them. But remember, do you not, their concessions on emotion?"
The question startled Obi-Wan's facial muscles into something crinkled and mildly perturbed. Of course he recalled the precepts, they rambled through his head at least once daily. He understood them and could recite them backwards and forwards. But a concession to or about emotion? There was none of that, not to his knowledge. Again his eyelids fluttered, as though trying to bat aside his own confusion.
"Master?" he questioned, almost hesitantly.
"Emotion, yet peace," Yoda recited with a slow pointedness, his eyes shut reverently.
What he had spoken was the shortened version of the Jedi Precepts. Or, rather, not shortened, but more concise. It was typically taught to Younglings in their early lessons, but they were no less insightful. Where Obi-Wan had always favored the longer form, he had, perhaps, forgotten what the adapted version revealed.
Yoda's eyes opened and he shuffled a few steps closer to the troubled Jedi. "Emotions we are allowed to feel, for only natural, it is, to experience them. To deny them is to deny the way of the Jedi. For accept our emotions we must, if we are to live and act peaceably. Allow them to best you, you must now allow. What you have allowed yourself to do, what Elara has allowed herself to do… is not the Jedi way. Repair, you must, this rift between you both. What has grown between you, learn to accept it you must." A troubled furrow had pulled low over his eyes. His lips had twisted into a wrinkled frown, and he lifted his walking stick in order to jab it in Obi-Wan's direction. "For if you do not––then lose her you will. Remember, you must, that exclusive loss is not, to dying. And if lose her, you do, irreparable, you will be. You, too, will be lost," he forewarned.
Obi-Wan sat silently as the weight of Yoda's words settled over him. Emotion, yet peace. It was not one or the other, it was a healthy balance of these things. A recognition that, in the end, peace must take precedence over emotion. That was what Qui-Gon had taught him. It was something that his late mentor had so fervently believed, and he could almost hear the warm tenor of his voice telling him as such. That there need be no absence of emotion, for that led to lack of compassion. Somewhere along the line, this lesson had gotten mucked-up, Obi-Wan realized. He had always allowed himself to feel emotion… but there had come a point in time where he'd come to fear the more passionate of them, the more intimate ones––love and affection, namely. He became aware of how badly they could hurt, so he guarded them more fiercely and tip-toed around them more carefully. He had learned to accept platonic love; but had kept any other sort of it at arm's length. He'd shunned it, ignored it, and batted it aside in a desperate bid to protect himself. He had made his own concession many years ago, and it was, perhaps, what had gotten him into this mess in the first place.
He could not help but think that Qui-Gon would be so very disappointed in him; and that struck him to the very core.
"Agree, I do, with your proposal to send Skywalker in your stead," Yoda said, interrupting Obi-Wan's gut-dropping train of thought. "Benefit him, it will. Tell him of this mission, I shall." Yoda again gestured to him with the foot of his walking stick, jabbing at him pointedly. "Meditate on the precepts you should; much guidance in them, you will find."
Obi-Wan's head bobbed in a single, stiff nod. The words, "Yes, Master," left his mouth quiet and hoarse.
Yoda slowly waddled out of the room, the click of his walking stick sharp and short against the marble. Once the doors behind him closed, Obi-Wan slouched heavily back into his seat. He braced a hand over his eyes, shielding them from the warm-yet-cold light. It felt as though the whole galaxy had been turned on its head. What once felt right now felt confusing wrong. Things were being thrown into such a sharp perspective that his head was starting to hurt. What had become perfectly evident this morning, however, was something absolutely terrible.
In his desperate bid to spare both himself and Elara the pain he'd felt as a Padawan, he might've become what he'd never wished to be.
Selfish.
OOOO
The Senate Gardens were not a place that the public had the privilege of seeing. It was an artificial landscape housed within the Senate Building, available to only senators, politicians, visiting dignitaries, and their invited guests. The ceiling was made of transparisteel, which allowed sunlight to stream in from above. Plants of all sorts from every possible system in the galaxy were present––Poola blossoms from Rodia, Royal Fluzz from Zeffo, and Hsuberry trees from Naboo to name a few. Flora from all across the galaxy had been cultivated in order to provide a sense of familiarity and unity. Any senator, politician, or dignitary could walk in and feel at home in some way. These plants, all existing harmoniously, were a reminder of what it was they all wanted for the galaxy––peace. This was also reflected in the garden's atmosphere. It was a place of reflection and tranquility, and debates and heated dialogue was not permitted. Instead, peaceable talks could be had while enjoying the gently trickling water features. Tea could be taken in one of the verdant alcoves, where one could enjoy the exotic floral perfumes. It was a beautiful, hidden oasis in the middle of an ecumenopolis; and that was what made this botanical locale so special.
Elara had been to the Senate Gardens before. In fact, before the war, she and Padmé had made a point to take tea there whenever they could manage it. But as the galaxy was thrown into a disarray, so were their social lives. It had been months since Elara had been able to set foot in the Gardens. The faint––almost pleasant––mugginess of the air had been much missed. But she had missed the smell of verdant foliage and flowering blooms the most. It smelled alive. And after spending weeks on end with the dry, sour smell of death, it was truly invigorating… even with who she was there to meet.
"Ahh, my dear girl," drawled the papery voice of Sheev Palpatine. He stood beneath the low bowing fronds of a tree from Corellia, the red of his formal robes bright against the foliage around him.
Elara inclined her head, which still throbbed at the temples. "Chancellor," she greeted.
One of those not-quite-real smiles that unsettled her so much spread across Palpatine's lips. He gestured down a walkway to his right with a wrinkled hand, a silent suggestion that this was the direction they should proceed in. Elara echoed the smile––right down to the way it didn't reach her eyes––and began to start down the path he'd motioned to. The pair started along the walkway at a leisurely pace, so leisurely that it was practically a languid stroll, and it was already driving her absolutely mad.
"I am so glad you accepted my invitation. Though… I must ask…" Palpatine turned a look of obvious concern over at her, with eyebrows furrowed and a frown pulling at already drooped cheeks. "Are you feeling well, my dear?"
The answer to the question was simple: no, she was not. Her chest ached as though someone had kicked her square in the sternum. A headache, induced by an evening of crying and exhaustion, pounded inside her skull. Every emotion housed in her body felt weighted, and in turn, they threatened to drag her to the floor. Heartache was an all-consuming thing Elara was coming to realizing. It infected every aspect of life. From the thoughts that passed through her head, to the melancholy drag of her mood. It was impossible to ignore and it made her feel absolutely dreadful. That was the truth of the matter, that was the unfiltered, genuine response.
But the answer that spilled forth was accompanied by one of Elara's notorious diplomatic smiles, and a slight swat of her hand through the air. Her knuckle gently batted against a waxy leaf on its down swing.
"I'm afraid I didn't sleep well last night. Given that I have just concluded a particularly strenuous mission, I fear that it did me no favors," she explained as a dismissal. It wasn't necessarily a lie; and given the truth within her bluff, it was easy to tell.
There was a light clicking sound as Palpatine clucked his tongue. He shook his head with an air of regret, and a hand lifted in a lithe sweep before it came to rest in the center of his chest. The troubled crease carved across his forehead deepened, and she all but expected him to reach out and take her by the hand. Thankfully, he didn't.
"When I caught wind of the severity of what had transpired, I immediately reached out in the hope that there might've been something I could do," he told her. There was a wavering quality to his voice that almost seemed to be a purposeful affectation. "Disheartening as it was to discover that I could do nothing, I had the utmost faith that you would succeed in foiling such a dastardly plot."
"Your concern is well appreciated, as is your faith. Thank you, Chancellor, for both," Elara responded coolly.
Being well versed in diplomacy was a virtue in itself. But in situations like this one, it was a life saver. There were nuances to these types of conversations, and after participating in them for so many years, a sort of script formed. One that Elara could use as a guideline, which was especially helpful now. It felt as though her thought process was harshly split between keeping up appearances, and wanting to wallow in her heartache. It made concentrating on her conversation with Palpatine incredibly difficult. Hence why having this subconscious script absolutely saved her. The responses she gave might've come off a little hollow, but it was all she could truthfully manage. Despite her innate uncomfortability around the Chancellor, she did always do him the favor of putting on a good face. But this time around, it was all she could do to formulate comprehensive responses.
It was then that Palpatine reached a weathered hand for Elara. But he didn't go for her hand as she'd expected earlier; that spindly extremity rose to meet her back, where it gently patted––fluttered, almost––against her shoulder blade. It was meant to be a reassuring gesture, she was sure of it; but all it made her think about was the men of the 442nd, and how this was a cheap imitation of the gesture they'd made their good luck charm. Though, of course, he'd have no reason to know about that. It was a strange coincidence, but she'd accept it if that meant he didn't tuck her hand into the crook of his elbow for the duration of the walk.
"Of course, my dear. I have had quite the honor to watch you grow into your abilities; and I can confidently say that I know the Republic is safe in your capable hands," Palpatine complimented.
Elara cleared her throat gently at the flattery. Sure enough, there was no escaping it whenever she met with him. She smoothed a hand down the front of her tunic, evening out any wayward wrinkles. Seeing as she'd not expected to be around anyone other than Anakin for the rest of the morning, she was dressed simply. While on planet and not in battle dress, most Jedi re-adopted their pre-war robes. Thus, all the typical Jedi accoutrements were missing from Elara's person, save for her lightsaber. Her tabards and obi were missing, and her hair was unclipped, which left her feeling vastly underdressed. This feeling was only elevated by the fact that most of the other beings strolling through the Garden were dressed in traditional, opulent Senatorial garb. Jedi garb was not meant to be flashy by any means, but dressed down and stood beside the Supreme Chancellor in all his crimson glory, she appeared to be a living, breathing plain streak of beige. This typically wouldn't bother her much. For almost the entirety of her life she'd only worn earthy hues, and her Jedi robes were much cherished. But today everything felt sensitive. And for the first time in a good long while––she might've even felt self-conscious.
That was a feeling she attempted to shove aside, pushing it to the shadowed corners to deal with later. If there was one person on the whole of Coruscant she wasn't comfortable letting her guard down around, it was Palpatine. So she'd not let that happen.
"So, Chancellor, was there something you wished to speak with me about?" Elara asked, voice once more masked in that even diplomatic tone.
"Yes, in fact, there was," he confirmed. He gestured for them to take the right branch of the path they walked, which led them past a small thicket of Rancor brambles from Wasskah. "It was brought to my attention recently that some time ago you made a request to the Grand Army of the Republic. Something to do with clone armor?"
The topic of conversation threw Elara a little off guard. It had been almost two months since the request had been placed, and she hadn't heard anything about it. Whenever she inquired about where it was in processing, the response she got from the Grand Army officials were often along the lines of 'we are very busy and will get to your request when we are able.' That was a very well worded brush-off. It likely meant that they hadn't even seen the request, let alone considered it or passed it along. But it didn't stop her from asking and placing other requests regarding finding the original one. So to have someone else bring it up was a little jarring. But it shook loose a tentative––an extremely tentative––hopefulness. That hope rested on the idea that, perhaps, it had worked its way through the system; but that was combated by the fearful dread that, if it had, perhaps it had been denied.
Elara ticked her gaze towards Palpatine, who now wore the lofty, almost apathetic, mask of the Supreme Chancellor. This was business, now, not just a leisurely stroll. She turned her gaze forward again just in time to catch that the path was bending into a curve. Both of her hands swept to clasp at the small of her back, into her own business-like posturing. Though Elara may not have liked Palpatine very much, he was a man of great influence. If she could plead her case to him, perhaps this garden stroll could be beneficial.
"Yes, I did. It was brought to my attention that many of my men were fighting with damaged armor. And these were damages that had been dealt weeks before, in battles that had long since passed. They were––and still are––gluing cracks and fissures with epoxy meant for quick mechanical fixes. I was absolutely appalled to discover how slow production of replacement armor is. I've still got men fighting in armor pieces that were damaged on Christophsis. It's ridiculous. Men have died due to armor failures, be it because the plastoid could no longer hold its integrity, or they were forced to enter battle without the proper equipment," Elara explained. A biting clippedness had entered her tone, snipping at consonants the longer she spoke. It was a matter close to her heart. The endangerment of her men was not something she took lightly.
Palpatine's pace slowed to a contemplative crawl. A heavy furrow creased his forehead and crinkled his snowy eyebrows together. "I fear that makes no sense," he admitted.
The statement startled Elara more than his mentioning of the subject in the first place. The gaze that she fixed him with was tense and burning. It was topics like this that were difficult to discuss with noncombatants; particularly with bull-headed politicians who saw the war as tactical movements and numbers on a screen. They didn't peer beyond the black-and-white numerals to realize those tallies were lives lost, or the physical and emotional stress those movements caused. It was that kind of conversation she feared she was about to enter. For she wouldn't put it past Palpatine, who loved to nose his way into everyone's affairs, to have a rather stark outlook on the war.
"I beg your pardon?" she asked, a faint, dangerous wobble entering her tone.
There was a bench set just off the edge of a bend in the pathway. It was sheltered by the interwoven branches of strategically grown bushes, and recessed far enough back from the path to provide a private place to speak. It was there that Palpatine let his troubled stride carry him. Elara followed, her posture now a little more rigid than before. She eyed the old man's back cautiously, unsure of what sort of potential debate she might be about to be plunged into. The Chancellor turned and sank onto the bench with a strange sort of grace. A hand rose his mouth, which he touched in gentle contemplation. His skin was so pale that she could see the blue of his veins beneath it. After a moment, his far-off gaze lifted to meet Elara's. There was a confusion in his eyes, as though he had been misled in some manner and had only now just realized it.
"I was assured that armor production was moving swiftly," he admitted. He gestured for Elara to take the empty spot beside him on the ornately carved slab of stone. "The Jedi have been receiving armor shipments regularly, have they not?"
Elara slowly sat on the far edge of the bench, with her body angled towards the Chancellor. "The Jedi are, yes… but our troopers aren't. It's technically the responsibility of the Grand Army to see to the production and replacement of their armor… but they seem relatively apathetic towards the issue. I… don't want to believe that they've readily ignored my request, but it's starting to feel like they have. I understand that there are many issues to parse through––we are in the middle of a war. But these men… they're the ones fighting it. And it's absolutely heartbreaking to realize that there are those that see them as weaponry, and not as people. Their lives deserve to be preserved just as much as the lives of any given Jedi. I'd happily give any of my men the armor off my back if it meant they survived long enough to see the end of this war."
To his credit, Palpatine actually seemed a little stricken by what Elara had just said. He was quiet in the wake of her words, like they'd actually given him something to think over. His gaze was intent with a sharp accuity, which was markedly different from the diplomatic haze that sometimes glazed them over. A slow smile started to crawl across his face, and oddly enough, this one reached the corners of his eyes. They crinkled at the corners, even. He reached a hand out and placed it atop the one that Elara had left braced against the edge of the bench. Her hand became sandwiched between the coolness of stone and the odd lukewarm warmth of the Chancellor's palm.
"You have a passion for protecting these men, and for that I commend you. It is so easy to forget our humanity in a time of war, is it not? What you have said troubles me deeply, as I was unaware of how much our brave clones have been overlooked," he said. He proceeded to squeeze her hand, let it go, and pat it a few times for good measure. Elara's eyes darted to their hands, unable to suppress a little frown, and then looked back up at Palpatine. His smile had cooled into something more… political. Chin lifted, eyelids slightly drooped, expression neutral. "I see no good reason why those fighting to save the Republic should be treated so poorly. I shall personally see to it that this issue is rectified. An executive order should do, I think, one that will see your request brought before the correct officials; and with my blessing… I don't see why it should not be put into effect immediately."
For the first time ever, Palpatine rendered Elara completely speechless. Shock had completely overridden every part of her. It cancelled out her melancholy, it shattered her carefully composed expression, and it ripped the air right out of her lungs. After months of hearing nothing about this all-important request, this was a shocking surprise. This man, who had so often offered and promised to do many things for her before, had never done anything like this. It often felt his requests were made in smarmy tones, with the hope of gaining something from her in return. But this didn't feel like that. This was… oddly considerate. For a man who liked to keep tabs on all the happenings in this war, it was very rare he even offered to do something like this. When breath and speech found her again, Elara attempted to school her expression into something a little more becoming than gaped shock.
"I… thank you," she breathed. The shock was still evident in her voice, but there was nothing she could've done to scrub it out. This whole situation seemed unreal. Elara had never thought she'd be genuinely thankful to the Chancellor for something. Of course, whether or not he carried through with this promise was still yet to be seen. And if he was true to his word, he would have her genuine gratitude; but he would still not have earned her trust. Despite this kindness that he was offering to do for her, Elara's feelings towards the man had not changed.
Palpatine offered a slow incline of his head, that almost scarily sincere smile crawling across his face again.
"Of course, my dear girl. If it is a concern of yours… then it is most certainly a concern of mine."
Afterword: Obi-Wan's POV is getting more and more difficult to write, I'll tell ya that! 'Cause I don't want him to mope ('cause he wouldn't do that), but he definitely wouldn't be totally unaffected… and trying to capture that as a thought process is ~hard.~ So I hope that his POV read decently! That was what I agonized over most of yesterday. Whatta fella!
Review Replies!
MsRosePetal: Obi-Wan is slowly but surely starting to realize his mistakes. He's still processing the regret––and once that gives way to fully acknowledging the mistakes… he's gonna have quite a bit of making up to do. I really love writing Ani being a sweet, comforting lad; I'm a sucker for a soft Anakin moment! I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
RemiSparklez: I'm so glad you enjoyed the song recommendation! It just happened to play whilst the playlist was on shuffle, and it came on at just the right moment… and god did it make that scene hit hard! The lyrical version of that song is also absolutely beautiful, and on other playlists for this story, too. And I was really excited to pull the Force-bond stuff back in! It struck me that Anakin would absolutely be able to feel her heartbreak, and thus the majority of the last chapter was born. I love using the repetition of words/phrasing as a writing mechanic! One of my favorite exercises to do with scripts is to look at scenes/monologues and see what word is used most (like if 'love' is said the most, then the scene is probably, at its core, about love). So for that chunk of Obi's POV… it's all about regret. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
Guest: Regardless of what happens, Tarkin always gets his own in the end!
weasleylover10: Ohh, I've got that Anakin and Obi-Wan interaction all geared up and ready to go. It's gonna be… oof. To have both Skywalkers feeling some type of way about you at once? RIP. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
turtlethewriter: Anakin is so incredibly perceptive, and I love getting to play with that. I've had a lot of fun doing a character analysis of Anakin while writing this story; it's actually helped me come to understand his character better as a whole. I love writing Ani and Lari scenes––and we very well may see Elara take his advice, which could, in turn, absolutely surprise Obi-Wan. One of the things I wrestled with in this last arc of chapters has been staying true to his character. Because for as much as I'd have loved for them to be together at this point… that man has got a stubbornness about him that just will not let him accept this kind of thing without making him suffer, first. I'm so happy that you enjoy this story so much, ahh! I really hope you enjoyed the new chapter! Thanks again!
bambam411: Elara is definitely an innately selfless person. And for as lucky as Ani is to have her as a sister, she's lucky to have him as a brother, too! He's always happy to step in and take care of her whenever he needs to do so. And this is definitely the moment that they find solidarity in sharing the same kind of beliefs (to certain degrees, of course). And I'm so glad that you found the "you're going to regret that for the rest of your life" line a resonating factor. Because I see Obi-Wan who is haunted by letting down the ones he loves. We see it in canon with Qui-Gon (and how he never/rarely uses the lightsaber form Qui-Gon used after his death), and with Anakin. So I thought––this would haunt him, too. And it probably always will, even once things get better (this poor, poor man…). I'm so excited to really start tying in the bounty stuff! And I am SO excited for awkward encounters between these lovestruck fools, too! I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
ZabuzasGirl: At least he's starting to realize his mistakes! The light at the end of the tunnel is visible now… thank god xD I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
monkeybaby: Ahh, thank you! I hope you enjoyed the snippet of the race at the top of this chapter! I always have to remind myself that Elara's a good pilot, 'cause she hasn't done a lot of that/I haven't written a lot of that, so it was fun to explore that stuff again! And we'll get some quality clone content in the next couple chapters; all I'm saying is that the 442nd is gonna love Gleann. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
Nerdette92: Oh, I wanna give Obi-Wan a big hug, too. There are extenuating circumstances to why he acted the way he did, as are there extenuating circumstances to the way that Elara's reacted/reacting to the situation. She's at least got Anakin to bolster her; Obi-Wan doesn't… really have anyone like that he can turn to. Which is, maybe, why these last few chapters have been so difficult to write his POV in. He's dealing with all this alone, and he has to reach all these life-altering conclusions alone. Ugh, this poor, poor man Dx I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
MidnightReader1: Ahh, thank you so much! I have a lot of fun writing the sibling moments, so I'm happy that you enjoy them! :) I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
Vanafindiel: Obi-Wan very much strikes me as the kind of person that is a pro at compartmentalizing all his emotions. I figured that being so emotionally overwhelmed would cause at least one tear to fall… just how I genuinely believe that once he dropped Luke off on Tatooine and he was wholly alone… he absolutely lost it. There's no way he didn't. His entire life was just ripped from his hands and UGH Episode III is gonna hurt real bad. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and the continuation of Obi-Wan's internal crisis; thanks again!
DCDGojira: Thank you! I hope you enjoyed the chapter!
PotatosGonnaPotate: I think it's fair to be frustrated with Obi-Wan, but still love him nonetheless. 'Cause there is a reason for why he's been acting the way he's acting… and he finally seems to be getting at it, now. I'm happy that you enjoyed all the Anakin content in the last chapter! It was a lot of fun returning to his POV, and to do so for such an extended period of time. And I've got Anakin and Obi-Wan's upcoming interaction all planned out… unhappy, protective little brother engage! I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
MalirBly: Thank you so much! I hope you enjoyed the Skywalker racing shenanigans at the top of the chapter; it was a nice breath of fresh air after all the drama and heartbreak. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
PrettyRecklessLaura: Things are definitely about to be on the upswing, which I know is hard to believe what with Obi-Wan still being in complete emotional turmoil, but––they are getting better, I swear it! I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
zikashigaku: Just wait until Anakin gets any kind of legit confirmation of his suspicions. He's gonna need to take a seat on a Victorian fainting couch, that's for sure! And poor Obi-Wan is going to be in such a prolonged tizzy, and then the Mandalore arc is going to hit and he's going to be… in such a place. And, oh ho ho, Anakin is gonna give Obi-Wan the biggest stink eye the galaxy has ever seen, and I'm so ready for it! I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
Duchess of Lantern Waste: I'm glad that you enjoyed reading Ani's POV, and reading about Elara's heartbreak through his eyes! I was like 'well, he'd feel it, just like Elara felt Shmi's death through him.' And then I realized how poignant it would be to have him feel her heartbreak. Because he doesn't know what's up; he doesn't understand the situation. He just gets the unadulterated pain of that moment. And while we all understand how heart-wrenching that Obi-Wan confrontation was for her… experiencing it through someone who doesn't know kinda lends a new weight to the situation. And, oh ho ho, Anakin is gonna give Obi-Wan the biggest stink eye the galaxy has ever seen, and I'm so ready for it! I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
thenerdnextdoor: I'm so glad you enjoyed the last chapter so much! I really got into my feels to write a lot of the Ani-Lari stuff, 'cause those two just cannot catch a break. They are constantly in fear and worry of the other's well-being that when something like this crops up… it just immediately strikes the heart of fear in them. The singing/humming thing was something I had wanted to incorporate in the aftermath of Shmi's death. When Elara broke down, Anakin was going to have started humming to her, but it just didn't work out. I do think I had Elara sing/hum to him waaaaaay back in Ep. I when they left Tatooine. It just… it feels so right for them. I also heard somewhere that it's apparently canon that Anakin's a great singer? Which, like, I'm so here for, bring it on! And Obi-Wan's journey through the arc of these last few chapters has been something. Because he's repressed all connection to these emotions for so long that it's just… hitting him so hard. It's like he's going through the stages of grief, almost. And I've had this Yoda convo planned for so long––and he was… gentleish? As gentle as Yoda can be. And I have to say, I'd love to see you throw hands with Yoda, I just got an image of him being absolutely yeeted through an open window and I quietly snickered about it xD All of this is also definitely teaching Elara that it's okay to let people take care of her. She's still learning how to take care of herself and put herself first, and with that territory comes accepting that it's totally alright to admit that she needs help and comfort. And, oh, the lads of the 442nd would absolutely go to hell and back to defend Elara and her honor. RIP to anyone who gets on their shit list! The bit about the Council kinda being scared of their bond is a relatively new idea, actually. I had to sit down and be like 'there's gotta be a reason behind them being so okay with all the affection and whatnot' and some other part of my brain went 'they're scared,' and I fell in love with the idea xD The closer I get to the 'Deception' arc, the giddier I get. Next to the Mandalore and Slavers arc, it's the arc I'm most excited to write! Once again, always wonderful to hear from you! :) Thank you, again, and I hope you enjoyed the chapter!
MotherAiya: Typing with drastically different nail length is always a pain––and hello, welcome back! :) I'm glad that the heartbreak in the last couple chapters has seemed believable. I wanted to make sure that it wasn't an overdramatic response/event, and to keep it as true to what real heartbreak would be like. Especially for Elara who's never experienced it before… and Obi-Wan who has, but not to this degree, and not for a looooong time. And, oh ho ho, Anakin is gonna give Obi-Wan the biggest stink eye the galaxy has ever seen, and I'm so ready for it! I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
Guest 2: The fallout is always the absolute worst. Especially with these two, because they're so desperately in love but so conflicted on how to deal with it. So they're going about it all the wrong ways. But Ani being so perfectly sweet was a good way to cut that proverbial acidity of all the heartache. And we will absolutely be seeing how his relationship with Obi-Wan is affected by all this… I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
Amelia: Obi-Wan is slowly peeling away all the layers of his regrets to discover the mistakes he made; and after that, he'll most certainly set about righting them. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
person2309: Ahh, thank you so much! Writing Obi-Wan in this particular part of the story has certainly been a challenge. It's a lot of internal conflict and working things out all on his lonesome. But I am so, so happy that he's still reading as being in character! And I absolutely have an Obi/Ani scene planned… I wanted it to be the closing scene of this chapter, but it would've made it far too long. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
lolistarkiller: It's going to be an adjustment for everyone now that both Skywalkers and Obi-Wan aren't on even footing anymore. It's gonna throw dynamics, there's gonna be a lot of scathing sarcasm and side-eyes… but hopefully as things start to get better between Obi-Wan and Elara, Anakin will let up. 'Cause he's a protective little brother, and he will absolutely take Elara's side in this. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
pixie: Oh, oof, yeah, the last two chapters wouldn't have been fun to read after a break-up. But, thank you so much, and I'm glad that you've been enjoying the story thus far! I hope you enjoyed the new chapter as well!
Lady Basara: I really wanna get Elara and Padmé to have some girl time. I'm trying to devise a good outing/situation for them to have some time to themselves, including considering sending Elara and Padmé on a short away mission to Naboo. But Elara definitely just needs a chance to chill with her best friend, especially as she's climbing away from rock-bottom. Also, the idea of Padmé connecting the dots and orchestrating their getting together is so Much Ado About Nothing, and I love that. I love a good Shakespearean ploy! I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
absollian: Ahh, hello, and thank you so much! Elara is an OC that I'm really, really proud of, so it means a lot that you've come to love her so much :) And her and Obi-Wan getting together is literally so close, and I'm so excited for them to finally be happy and together. I, too, am a sucker for forbidden love, and you better bet there's gonna be drama along the way! I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
LoveFiction2021: Thank you so much! I hope you enjoyed the chapter!
Elizabeth: Anakin's POV in the last chapter is the longest stint of his point of view I've ever written. There was a decent chunk of it in ch. 31, but this last chapter was certainly more substantial. And of the three Ani POVs I've written, it was particularly poignant. Because when Elara was on Tatooine, we saw him angry and worried. In the last chapter we saw him absolutely terrified because he felt what he feared he'd feel while on Tatooine. He cares for the ones he loves so desperately that he'd do anything to see them safe, hence why he just about tore out of Padmé's apartment to make sure Elara was okay. Anakin is trying to connect the dots, and though he doesn't have the whole picture, he has reached a pretty decent conclusion. I pictured his face being the same as the one he pulled on Naboo after he kissed Padmé and she essentially rejected him. Just… pure confusion. Obi-Wan's POV has been almost excruciatingly difficult to write these last two chapters, so I'm really happy you enjoyed it in the last chapter! His journey through this part of the story is tricky, so I've been really carefully trying to work through it in a way that makes sense for his character. He's one stubborn man, even if he doesn't admit it. And Elara is very lucky that she's not going through this alone; which is why she's at an advantage in this situation. She's got someone to help lift her up. Obi-Wan's doing this all on his own. 'Cause Anakin is going to do his damndest to make sure that Elara is true to herself. And her being true to herself is being empathetic and compassionate and loving. She's not going to let this situation get the best of her. And, quite frankly… that's going to benefit Obi-Wan, too. He's so concerned about the fact that he's hurt her, that seeing her pick herself back up may just help him along a bit. I'm glad you're enjoying my reblogs and posts on Tumblr! Whatever the reblog equivalent of 'word vomit' is, that's what my page is xD I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
WaywardandWanderlust: I'm so glad you enjoyed the last chapter! I really miss writing Anakin and Elara as a duo, and there's more of that to come in the next handful of chapters. While she's rebuilding with Obi-Wan, she's reinforcing her bond with Anakin. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
camelotprincess1: The Skywalkers really always get put through the ringer. They love so wholly and deeply, that anytime something emotionally compromising happens it just… tears them apart. And this is the first time that Elara has experienced heartbreak that isn't grief related. It's just… so utterly devastating to her. Especially when it's centered around someone she cares for so much. And Anakin is, indeed, slowly becoming wise to Elara's feelings for Obi-Wan… but that poor boy is going to assume it's just a one sided thing ('cause it's Obi-Wan) and assume that they just worked through it xD And Obi-Wan's attempt at severing their attachment is most certainly the reason that he's come to the realization of his regrets (not his mistakes quite yet, but he's getting there) so quickly. He wakes up that morning and just feels that something is wrong. And Anakin being there for Elara in her time of need was totally and completely imperative. Because not only did he remind her of compassion being what makes her so strong as a Jedi… but he offered her compassion, as well. And as you said, after such a confrontation… that was much needed. Also, I am so down to have Elara and Anakin do a speeder drag race, it would be amazing! Any chance to get the clones betting on their Gennys xD I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
Princess Jaquline Chess: Don't worry about not dropping reviews! Life gets in the way all the time, believe me, I get it. I'm sorry that things have been so stressful lately, and I hope that things are getting better/are looking up! I really love writing sibling dynamics like the Ani-Lari relationship. I've got a sister and a brother, and for as much as we poke fun at one another, we're all friends, and we'd do most anything for each other. It's always good fun to write the siblings-butting-heads stuff, but it's just as gratifying to write the siblings-support-and-like-and-love-each-other stuff. And we'll probably get that Anakin and Obi-Wan convo at the start of next chapter, or the chapter afterwards. It'll be reaaaaal good fun! Obi-Wan is definitely going to have to confront what happened with Satine… quite literally. He's dealing with all this heartache with Elara, and then Satine is gonna pop back up and he's really going to have to find his footing in this situation. Because he is in danger of repeating history… but there's something in him that's really, really not willing to let that happen. I hope you enjoyed the chapter just as you did the last one; thanks again, and I hope that you're doing well!
And thank you to those that added this to their follows/favorites; it means a lot!
Next up––the return to Gleann! I've been so excited to hop back to Gleann, especially with the lads of the 442nd. What they need is a calm mission that involves little more than patrolling. That's all they need. It's what they deserve.
I'm really happy to have gotten this chapter up today! My arm, which was mauled by my loving cat this morning, is a little achy from all the typing, though, so I shall give it a rest and let y'all enjoy the chapter. Thanks again! Y'all rock!
~Mary