Chapter Ten
The black leather of her gloves squeaked as she clenched her fists, boots thumping against the sleek black floor as she marched through the ship. The starlit galaxy sparkled outside the viewport. It was an eternal midnight on the other side Star Destroyer. Her footsteps slowed and she paused, turning to admire the desert planet below. The beige orb was certainly a sand planet, a real dustbowl. She wrinkled her nose. Something about desert planets felt so empty, wasteful. Suffocating, entrapping.
Heavy footsteps beat around the corner and stopped when they found her. She didn't even need to look to know who it was.
Suddenly, she was not aboard the ship, in a snowy forest. Her teacher—master—lay heaving in the snow. Her opponent stood in tan robes, chest rising and falling with breaths from the fight; the hum of the Jedi's blue lightsaber reverberated in her bones.
Vespera jerked awake. For the past few days, dreams along the same line as that haunted her nights. A Star Destroyer, the vastness of space, the blurred Jedi with a blue lightsaber, the dark-cloaked master, the eerie shadow of the Dark Side… Those same motifs filtered through her dreams each night. Every morning, she awoke with a gasp, as if she'd been holding her breath while asleep. With each dream, she felt the hum of the Force in the marrow of her bones. This was a vision of something to come, though for who, Vespera wasn't sure. The person in the dream felt… familiar, somehow. But they had a deep anger in their heart that Vespera did not carry. She hoped it was not her own future, for it seemed empty and lonely, saturated with the Dark Side.
For a moment, she considered hiding under her covers instead of facing the day. After all the stress with the Zillo Beast on Coruscant, Vespera was glad to be in her own bed. But Azyrion offered no relaxation beyond the doors of her bedchamber. In the streets of her cities, Separatist propaganda marred the walls. People attended marches and rallies promoting the Separatists. There were more people in support of the Republic. These days, however, felt as though the number of Separatist supporters seemed to rival that of Republic support. Vespera didn't want to deal with the politics of it all. Her people were allowed to have their opinions, and with the council's resistance to every decision she attempted to make, it was nearly impossible to educate the people about Azyrion's options.
Her gold-and-cream-colored sheets and walls seemed much safer than the crackling tension beyond her bedroom doors. She'd much rather stay curled in a warm ball, drifting in and out of a sleepy haze. She wanted to reside in this feeling of golden clouds warm with the sun's touch, fuzzy and soft against her cheeks.
Hitching her breath, Vespera steeled herself and rolled out of her bed. The cold floor sent a jolt through her body. She padded to the walk-in closet connected to her bedchamber and withdrew a gold gown suited for informal court. She didn't need assistance for her informal court gowns, so calling for Neve's help didn't matter.
After readying for the day, Vespera made her bed, squared her shoulders, and headed for breakfast. Guards bowed to her when she passed them. Maids stopped in their tracks and curtseyed. Butlers paused to bow, too.
Vespera forced herself to smile graciously, even though she already couldn't wait for nighttime, where she would not have to fake her good mood. She could lie still and not be bothered by anyone. Perhaps she could take a hot bubble bath… Her skin tingled at the thought.
As usual, breakfast was an incredibly lonely affair. Vespera used that time to read, since not even Callan ate with her. Vespera should be reading nonfiction books about Azyrion's government, or laws, or history, or some practical theory book, but she liked fairytales. Fantasies. Stories about worlds far from her own, stories with heroines who fought battles, damsels who waited to be rescued, and romances that lovers tried to emulate. Callan called her childish for her reading habits, but Vespera clung to these worlds. Her world seemed so bleak sometimes.
So, Vespera took her time with her morning caf as she read a chapter in her latest fairytale about a sun and moon falling in love before leaving to attend a meeting with her council. Her trek through the palace slipped by in a blur—she'd walked this path so many times she no longer needed to pay attention—so the doors to the council chamber appeared before her sooner than she'd like. Taking a deep breath, Vespera squared her shoulders and entered the council chamber.
The other members sat around the oval-shaped table already. Many of them feigned amicability as Vespera dipped her head in acknowledgement. Several others didn't even try to hide their contempt—like Cathal—and narrowed their eyes as Vespera circled the table and sat at the head, at the left side of the king's seat.
As per custom, everyone rose from their seats when King Callan entered. He gestured for everyone to have a seat once he was comfortable. Vespera braced herself for the onslaught of casual misogyny and resistance to her power. She had the final say in most decisions, but lately, the council did not seem to care about upholding that particular tradition. Of course, every other tradition of Azyrion, they treated with great reverence, but when it came to Vespera and her decisions as queen, they pretended that tradition no longer mattered. Even though she wanted to help her people and provide them with more freedom and power, she feared that there would be no way for her to accomplish that while her council prevailed. Hopefully, Padme and Bail Organa found something in those documents to help Vespera dissolve the council's power…
"First order of business," said Callan, reading from a datapad, "is the matter of the Separatists landing on Azyrion."
The councilmen had the decency to look a little uncomfortable, at least. If Vespera had brought up the matter, they would have sneered at her. At least she and Callan were in agreement that Asajj Ventress's arrival with Separatist droids as a walking advertisement of the Separatists' might was unacceptable.
"Well, it's obvious, isn't it?" Cathal snapped. "The Separatists were after Senator Amidala and those Jedi, and you"—he pointed a gnarled finger at Vespera "—let them stay here, and arrest my son!"
"Your son shot their ship down," Vespera replied coolly. Already, the forefront of her mind pounded with a headache. "Not to mention that he was building weapons under your nose. While we are a neutral planet, the Council of Neutral Systems remains loyal to the Republic, so Senator Amidala and the Jedi—"
"Had no right to just land here without requesting permission!" Cathal practically foamed at the mouth.
"Your son never gave them a chance," Vespera sighed. "Councilman Cathal, perhaps you are too close to this situation and need to take a leave of absence to cool your head."
"How dare you?" Cathal seethed. "We warned you that those Jedi would bring the war directly to us, and look! Separatists have landed on our planet twice!"
"How convenient that they did."
"Excuse me?"
Vespera shrugged. "I believe it's very convenient that as soon as the Jedi and Senator Amidala left, Count Dooku and Asajj Ventress butted into Azyrion's business."
"Are you accusing me of something, your majesty?" Cathal's voice sounded tight.
Callan snorted beside Vespera. "Don't get your knickers in a twist, Cathal. No one's accusing you of anything. Though, I must say I agree with the queen for once. The arrival of the Separatists on our soil is disconcerting, and we must do something about it."
"Well, you've been very friendly with the Republic lately," said Councilman Gan. "Have your frequent trips to Coruscant yielded anything fruitful, your majesty?"
Gan said your majesty like an insult, but Vespera brushed it off. She locked her fingers together. "I'm afraid that my meeting with Chancellor Palpatine did not yield much support. He said we would need the Council of Neutral Systems' support in gaining Republic aid if we want it. I'm planning to send word to Duchess Satine Kryze."
"Why haven't you already?" demanded Gan.
"Well, this council isn't too fond of my making decisions on my own," said Vespera dryly. "I decided to wait until our meeting."
"Of course, you have our approval, there should be no question when Azyrion's security is at risk," said Councilman Deion. He was the oldest councilman, yet the kindest. Vespera supposed she had gained his respect during the civil war with Raria. Deion served as one of Vespera's father's advisors, too. He turned his dark eyes to Vespera, and the crow's feet around his eyes sharpened as he offered her a sympathetic smile. "Contact Duchess Kryze and arrange a meeting with her."
"Thank you, Councilman Deion," Vespera murmured.
"How do we solve this problem?" Gan asked, pressing a button on the table. A hologram recording of a nobleman speaking at a town square in Aeterna flashed to life in the center of the table. The nobleman—Enzo Vox—ranted about how the Separatists would offer Azyrion more freedom than the tyrannical reign of the Republic. People in the crowd held up signs in support.
Vespera groaned. "I thought we'd seen the last of him years ago."
"Yes, he was vocal about the civil war, too," said Deion.
"Well, he is stirring up the people," said Cathal. "And I for one don't disagree with his message."
The council erupted into an argument. Vespera slumped in her chair. Most councilmen agreed with Cathal while a few disagreed. Callan remained quiet for the most part, though he leaned toward Vespera's ear.
"Cathal isn't exactly painting himself in a favorable light."
"No," Vespera agreed, "he isn't even hiding his support for the Separatists."
"Which means he thinks he can get away with it."
"Well, you've allowed Cathal to practically run this council in the past," Vespera hissed. "He believes he is untouchable."
"He is," muttered Callan. "His family's estate owns the gem mines on Raria, one of Azyrion's biggest exports. If we lose his support, we risk upsetting Raria."
Vespera rubbed her forehead. As much as she despised Callan, she agreed with him. Azyrion and Raria's relationship was fragile at best. And with the recent support for Lorelei, Vespera didn't want to risk further unrest among her people. She didn't want Azyrion to break into war with its moon again, as well as be dragged into the galaxy-wide war.
It seemed that no matter which way she turned, Vespera hit a dead end.
Meetings with her council usually felt pointless, but this last one felt like they just ran in circles until the soles of their shoes burned away. Vespera left with a pounding migraine. She itched to visit the rolling golden hills of Tatum and hold Kenna in her arms. She wanted to take her daughter and run to the edge of the galaxy, far away from her council, and Azyrion, and the war, and the Jedi, and…
Obi-Wan.
As much as she wanted to, Vespera couldn't run and hide from her Force bond with Obi-Wan. And she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to, either.
But gods, why of all people had she formed a bond with Obi-Wan Kenobi?
Her childhood friend (and for a time, her schoolgirl crush) and now Jedi Master… How he'd changed, and yet remained the same. He was wiser now, though he still retained that snark that Vespera enjoyed about him. And his gentleness. He was still handsome as ever, too. The beard suited him well.
A faint blush rose to Vespera's cheeks. Could Obi-Wan hear her thoughts now?
She couldn't sense his presence like she normally could when they connected. Oh, gods… If he ever knew she thought he was handsome, she'd never hear the end of it.
Still, the thought broadened her smile.
And, as much as she wanted to, Vespera couldn't abandon Azyrion. She left the Jedi because of her duty to her people. She wasn't about to run away now, either.
Most days, Vespera managed to exude warmth toward her subjects easily. Today, however, proved a bit more difficult. Still, she played her role as queen well. She received subjects who journeyed to the palace for an audience. She met with supporters and political opponents alike all afternoon.
By the end, all she wanted to do was lounge in a hot bubble bath.
Then, Enzo Vox walked into the throne room.
Vespera straightened, her eyes stretching. "Lord Vox, I'm surprised to see you here."
Enzo Vox's forehead gleamed with sweat. He exaggerated a bow. "King Callan, Queen Vespera."
"How may we be of service?" Vespera shifted in her seat. The Force flickered in jagged spikes around Vox. There was something dangerous about him. Tension curled in Vespera's shoulders, but she tried to hide her unease.
"War looms before us, my queen," said Vox, straightening from his bow.
"Azyrion is neutral."
"We are being pushed out of that neutrality, I'm afraid," said Vox. "You've failed as queen."
Ice pooled in the pit of Vespera's stomach.
"What are you talking about?" Callan sounded bored as he slouched on his throne.
"The day of Azyrion's reckoning draws closer." Vox seemed nervous as he paced the throne room, pausing to stare at the stained-glass depiction of Vespera's father. "Today is just a domino falling. The others will follow."
Vespera clenched the armrests of her throne until her knuckles whitened. The Force seemed to flash with warning signs. Whatever Vox was talking about, it had merit. Dangerous merit. "Lord Vox—"
Vox turned and outspread his arms, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Today, the people will see the blood on your hands, and revolution will be inevitable!"
"What are you talking about?" Vespera demanded sharply.
Vox chuckled. "Today, a bomb will go off somewhere on Azyrion and create a martyr. Innocent blood will stain your hands. They call you the Bloodborne Queen for a reason, your majesty. You will live up to that title once more!"
Vespera jumped to her feet, her heart pounding. "Guards!"
Callan no longer seemed bored as he marched toward Vox, who the palace guards arrested. "You must be a special kind of fool to threaten us in the heart of our own palace—"
"This is no threat," Vox promised. "The bomb will snuff lives today, and draw the war ever closer."
Vespera's chest rose and fell with rapid, panicked breaths as the guards dragged Vox to a containment cell. Callan said something about spearheading the interrogation, while Vespera was vaguely aware of sending guards to investigate Vox's home. It would be too late by the time they found anything.
Vespera forced her fear down. She used to be Jedi. She could handle the pressure. She ordered an immediate evacuation of the palace, just to be safe. But even that would take about an hour, and Vespera would not leave until every person vacated the palace safely. On Callan's orders, the guards remained in the palace to conduct a thorough search for a bomb, but that would take hours. Vox could have learned some of the secret passageways of the palace. And they didn't even know if the bomb was in the palace at all.
Underneath the impending danger, the Force felt slippery and slimy with disguise.
Why would Vox even warn Vespera and Callan about the bomb in the first place? It made no sense…
Vespera hurried toward the containment cell area of the palace. The only person who could offer answers was Lord Vox, and Vespera got the distinct feeling that Callan wasn't asking the right questions.
When she arrived at the detainment center, the guards blocked her from passing the threshold. "King Callan has requested us to keep you from the interrogation, your majesty."
The guard on the right—the one who spoke—looked uncomfortable as Vespera glared at him. "Well, you can tell the king consort that the queen cannot be barred from entering rooms of her own palace."
The guard on the left grimaced. "Your majesty… The king did not want you to witness—"
"Witness what?"
"King Callan has resorted to desperate measures of interrogation," blurted out the guard on the right.
Torture. Nausea coiled in Vespera's stomach.
"I see," she muttered. "I will return shortly. When I do, you will not keep me from entering. Is that understood?"
"Yes, your majesty."
Trembling, Vespera turned on her heel and headed for the nearest refresher. She grabbed a towel and doused it with cool water before hurrying back to the detainment center. This time, the guards let her through.
Vox's cries cut into Vespera's chest. There was a blunt sound and Vox let out a whimper. Vespera rounded the corner and found Callan, his knuckles bloodied and torn, panting as he stood over a shackled Vox.
"Stop!" Vespera cried.
Callan sighed as he turned. Strands of his sandy brown hair fell in his face. Sweat dripped down his temple. Blood flecked his face, and his hands trembled. He bared his teeth at Vespera. "He still hasn't talked."
"Beating it out of him won't help," Vespera snapped.
"Oh, you want to treat the terrorist nicely, is that it?" Callan raised his eyebrows and gestured at Vox, who was facedown on the floor, sniveling. His hands were shackled behind his back.
"I don't want to resort to barbaric methods of interrogation," Vespera replied, removing the containment field around the cell.
Callan dragged his hands down his face, smearing blood and sweat together. "We don't have time for your pacifism, Vespera!"
"You hurt a man enough, and they'll admit to anything," Vespera replied, stepping into the cell. She sat Vox upright, slumping him against the wall. His left eye was swollen shut. Blood oozed out of his nose, and his lip was split. Vespera's stomach lurched at the sight of him.
"Whatever. I need a break, anyway." Callan moved to leave, and then paused. "You've never had the guts for this sort of thing."
"I hope I never do."
"Welcome to the dark side of politics, dearie," Callan seethed. He swept out of the detainment area.
Stomach still sloshing with nausea, Vespera dabbed at Vox's fresh wounds. He winced and jerked away from Vespera's touch. His good eye widened as she cleaned blood off his face.
"The bomb isn't the only threat today, is it?" Vespera prompted gently.
Vox paled, but refused to speak. Or maybe he couldn't.
"It doesn't make sense for you to announce the threat and make us aware of it," Vespera continued. "If this is all about innocent blood being spilled, then you wouldn't warn us of the threat. It would take more lives if it were a surprise. And you specifically mentioned creating a martyr. What did you mean?"
Vox stared at Vespera with his good eye stretched as open as it could go.
Vespera sighed. "If you talk to me, I can protect you."
For a few seconds, Vespera feared that maybe Vox really was too wounded to speak. Then, he chuckled. "Queen Vespera… You cannot protect anyone. Not even yourself."
A chill lashed down Vespera's spine. "What do you mean?"
"The people will learn of your dark secrets," Vox smiled, blood staining his teeth, "and they will tear that crown off your pretty head. Your enemies lurk in the walls of your own home, and on your own planet. There is no one you can trust."
Vespera froze, but she forced herself to swallow the lump in her throat. "Is there even a bomb? Or is it just a cover?"
"Oh, there's a bomb," promised Vox, "and it will destroy a monument."
"Where is it? Tell me, and I can keep Callan from hurting you—"
"What that tyrant of a king does to me doesn't matter," laughed Vox. "And I will never help a malefica."
A gasp slipped past Vespera's lips, and she jerked away from Vox. The damp cloth dropped from her hand. "What are you talking about?"
"I know what you are," Vox snarled. "It's only a matter of time before the people learn, too. But it's not time for that domino to fall, I'm afraid."
Vespera backed away, shaking. She left the detainment center and hurried down the corridor with no real destination in mind. She needed air. She needed to delete the security footage. She needed to tell Abner. She needed—
"Oh, really. Vez, I'm about to enter a warzone. Can I get a moment's peace?" Obi-Wan's voice halted Vespera in her tracks. His surroundings were blurred to her, but he appeared clear as day, sitting cross-legged on the floor as if he were in the middle of the corridor in Vespera's palace. He seemed exasperated, though there was no real bite to his words. If anything, he seemed mildly amused.
Any other time, Vespera would be happy to see a friendly face. But in this moment, Vespera wanted to break down and scream. She didn't have time to deal with their stupid Force bond and all its complications. Someone on Azyrion knew Vespera was Force-sensitive. A malefica. Did they know she used to be a Jedi? How many people knew? Oh, and there was a bomb.
"Kriff, I didn't mean to contact you. How do I turn this off?" Vespera waved her hands in the air wildly. There was not telling when the bomb would go off.
Obi-Wan detangled his legs and stood. "You can't turn it off. It's the Force."
"I know that!" Vespera snapped.
Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows. "Are you alright?"
Vespera leaned against the wall. Tears welled in her eyes. Kriff, not now. She'd held herself together all day: she'd been yelled at, sneered at, threatened, faced a bomb threat, discovered one of her biggest secrets was not only known by someone else but by an enemy, but as soon as she was in Obi-Wan's presence, she wanted to cry? It wasn't fair.
"No," Vespera choked. She refused to look at Obi-Wan. She did not want to cry in front of him, especially now. She didn't have time for this. "I can't trust anyone in this palace, and my enemies are closing in on me. There's a bomb about to go off—"
"What?" Obi-Wan's eyes widened. "Vez, you need to get out of there."
"We don't know where it is," Vespera replied. She explained the situation as quickly as she could. Part of her writhed at the thought of bothering Obi-Wan, who was clearly readying himself for a battle somewhere else in the galaxy. But the other part of her—that selfish part that clung to companionship—felt an immense relief at telling her troubles to a friend.
Obi-Wan folded his arms and stroked his beard. "Most bombers want to send a message, so it's not entirely strange that you were warned of it beforehand."
"Great, so my only theory is moot." Vespera buried her face in her hands for a moment.
"Not necessarily," said Obi-Wan. "It could be that there is more than one agenda going on here. You said he wanted to create a martyr, right?"
"Yes," Vespera sighed. "He's been advocating for the Separatists here—long story—so I suppose any of the councilmen who support him could be potential targets."
"In my experience, bombings take place at important monuments to send a message," Obi-Wan added, furrowing his brow.
Vespera's head snapped up. "What did you just say?"
"Bombings take place at important monuments to send a message."
Heart racing, Vespera pushed off the wall. "Vox said something about a monument falling today!"
Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows. "He supports the Separatists, wants to make a martyr out of someone, and is most likely targeting a monument. Are there any locations you can think of that have all three of those connections?"
Of course. It was so simple.
"It's here," Vespera muttered. She brightened. "The bomb is somewhere in the palace!"
Obi-Wan lifted a brow. "Most people would not be so excited about that revelation."
"Right, thank you, no time!" Vespera cried, running off. Thankfully, Obi-Wan disappeared as the connection dissolved. She had to warn the detainment center and Callan—
A loud boom sounded several corridors away. The palace shook, and debris exploded everywhere. Vespera was flung off her feet. Her back smacked the wall, and she crumpled on the floor, her vision going dark.
A high-pitched ringing pierced her ears as consciousness returned to her. For several minutes, Vespera couldn't even move. The ringing in her ears gave her vertigo every time she tried to get up, and her limbs trembled so much that she couldn't even force herself to stumble down the corridor.
Finally, the shakiness subsided enough for her to stagger to her feet. She made her way to the detainment center. The Force seemed to nudge her in that direction. When she arrived, her jaw dropped.
It was gone. A gaping whole replaced the detainment center. Part of the ceiling above caved in, and several walls around had crumbled in the blast. The corpses of several guards littered the debris-ridden ground. There was no telling how many were trapped underneath the rubble.
Vespera jumped when someone gripped her arm. Callan tugged her away from the scene. Grime covered his face, and he looked quite pale underneath it all. Lights flashed around them. The emergency alarms must've been triggered.
"We need to get out of here," Callan said, though his voice came out muffled due to the ringing in Vespera's ears.
"We have to check for survivors—"
"That's not our responsibility!" Callan yelled.
Vespera pulled out of his grasp. She couldn't leave without checking for survivors—
A sharp, searing pain slashed through her ribs. With a guttural cry, Vespera clutched her side and dropped to her knees, faintly aware of Callan reaching for her. Screwing her eyes shut, Vespera tried to will the pain away. Perhaps she'd been wounded in the explosion and hadn't noticed—
But when she opened her eyes, she wasn't in her palace.
Blaster fire spat around him. The desperate shouts of his troops clawed at his heart. He couldn't fight with them. He could barely move. His side roared in agony. Most of his ribs were broken. His entire body ached. Blood caked his cheek, which stung with an open gash. Geonosian dust clogged his lungs. His breaths came out labored and shallow.
A soft, warm presence wreathed around him. No, no, no… Not now. He didn't want her to see him like this. If this was his last day, he didn't want Vespera to see him like this…
But damn. He was selfish and wanted to see her.
Gritting his teeth, Obi-Wan lifted his head. Vespera knelt before him, clutching her side—the same side that was wounded on Obi-Wan—tears sparkling in her eyes. White dust coated her gown and parts of her face. Chunks of hair fell loose from her usual updo. Blood leaked from her left ear. So, that disorienting feeling he experienced earlier had been on Vespera's end, as he guessed. Was it the bomb?
Vespera jerked her head, her heart slamming in her chest. What the hell was that? For a moment, did she see herself through Obi-Wan's eyes?
Blinking furiously, she focused. Obi-Wan came into view, this time from her perspective. He clutched his side, looking exhausted. Orange dust covered him. A cut ran across his cheek. Blood seeped through his Jedi robes. Vespera could feel the ghost of his wound in her side.
Her heart jumped to her throat and once more, tears welled in her eyes. Was Obi-Wan… dying?
"Obi-Wan…" Vespera choked, allowing the tears to fall. No, he couldn't die. This wasn't it. They still had to figure out why the Force connected them. She'd never experienced a bond so powerful; there had to be a reason, right? It wasn't just chance.
Obi-Wan couldn't die yet. How dare he waltzed back into her life, only to bow out so soon? No, it wasn't fair. He couldn't die.
Even in his wounded state, Obi-Wan offered Vespera a crooked smile. She waited for some snarky comment, but it never came. He was too weak.
Suddenly, Vespera was shut out from Obi-Wan. He disappeared, and she crumpled on the dirty floor of her palace, gasping. Tears leaked out the corners of her eyes, and a terrible tightness clutched her heart. She felt like she was drowning.
She'd felt Obi-Wan's intention before the connection vanished. He had shut her out because he didn't want her to see him die.
While a medic looked her over, Vespera discreetly tried to reconnect with Obi-Wan, but his side of the connection felt like a wall. Still, feeling that strong block gave her hope. Maybe Obi-Wan was adamantly blocking her out. She knew what it felt like to not have a connection with someone, and this didn't feel like that. She'd know if Obi-Wan died. Right?
Callan approached; his mouth pressed into a flat line. He waved the medic away. "Vespera."
Vespera lifted her head slowly, still feeling quite dazed. "Yes?"
"I just received word from Raria," Callan paused and lowered his gaze. Vespera held her breath, but she already knew what her husband was about to say. The real domino's fall. "Lady Lorelei escaped prison."
Although she expected it, Vespera still felt winded by the news. She closed her eyes for a moment. It was not often that she prayed to Azyrion's gods, as she never felt a true connection with them, but she offered a weak prayer that she did not lose Obi-Wan and her planet in the same day.
Hey everybody! I'm back (kind of)! I know it's been a really long time, and I'm sorry.
I lost inspiration for this story a while ago because I felt really overwhelmed by the political intrigue of the story. I felt like I had bitten off more than I could chew, so I took a break. I started watching My Hero Academia and Attack On Titan, so my Star Wars drive plummeted a little bit. I'm trying not to abandon my stories, though! I know how frustrating that is as a reader, and I do still adore Vespera and Obi-Wan, and I want to share their story. I'm still outlining this story a bit, but I feel like it's less random and becoming more structured.
Anyway, I'm excited to be back! I'm alternating between writing for this, my My Hero Academia fics, and a Detroit: Become Human fic, so bear with me. But I haven't forgotten Vespera and Obi-Wan's story, and there's lots of angst, romance, and adventure to come!
Abby Schmitz: Thank you so much! I hope you continue to enjoy it ?