—17—
Finding the Sector of Service proved a lot harder than Lightning would admit—the complexity of the Temple was astounding. Sunset now loomed on the Paddraean horizon, and the Temple's clerestories permitted natural light to illuminate its hallways.
Passing dozens of Jedi, Lightning was quite the spectacle. Her clothes were completely tattered and burned, and to her dismay, everybody recognized their Apprentice Tournament Champion.
A fair few Jedi patted her uninjured shoulder, congratulating her. Some merely stared with curiosity. Lightning hated the attention.
She wandered down an impressive corridor. It was bare, all except for a lone, hooded figure gazing out of the mammoth window-wall. As Lightning drew closer, the person turned to face her.
She looked a little older, was a little shorter, and had very dark brown hair that was tucked into the hood of her cloak.
"You look lost," the stranger's patient voice said. "Where are you going?"
Lightning met the girl's amber eyes.
She didn't even see me walk in. How could she know I was lost? Lightning wondered.
"I'm trying to find the Halls of Healing," Lightning explained.
The stranger examined the pink-haired champion. "You had a nice performance." The compliment sounded more like a fact.
"Thanks," Lightning replied.
"You're new to the Order," the girl observed. "Lightning, right?"
Lightning inwardly groaned. "I can see word travels fast around here," grumbled the ex-soldier.
"The Order is small," the girl replied with a Mona Lisa smile. "From a young age, Paddra's force-sensitive children are trained here, hence why your sudden presence is stirring."
Lightning nodded. Just tell me where the fuck I need to go, lady, she thought.
The girl might have read her mind. "Keep walking down this hall. It'll bring you to the Sector of First Knowledge. The quarter you seek, the Sector of Service, is to the right."
"Thank you," Lightning searched for a name, "Uh."
"Tifa," the girl responded simply.
"So, Master Tifa, or?"
"No," the girl smiled. "I'm just a Knight."
What's the damn difference? Lightning thought, unsure.
Tifa slowly strode passed Lightning. "See you."
Lightning took a hesitant step forward. "Wait," Lightning called out to Tifa. "Which hallway should I take?"
Tifa didn't stop walking. In a very tranquil voice, she responded, "The Force will guide you."
Lightning shrugged her shoulders and continued walking. She didn't get far before having to stop at a crossroad, debating which way to go.
Pft, the Force will guide me . . . what a load of— Lightning felt a sudden tingling in her palm.
She focused intently, bringing her hand up to her forehead and closing her eyes. Suddenly, a small surge of Force expelled from her fingers. The blue wisp of light floated down the western hall and quickly faded.
Maybe I can trust my instincts, Lightning mused.
Using the Force, she promptly led herself to the upper levels of the Sector of Service, also known as the Halls of Healing.
—17—
"Oh, what a spectacular day!" Rikku exclaimed as she twirled around, her dress spiraling freely as the royal entourage crossed the palace threshold.
Vanille giggled. She almost felt like twirling too. She loved being around cheerful people.
"I'm starving!" the Duchess declared.
Cloud shot the petite blonde a blank stare. "You ate just before the tournament?"
Rikku cocked an eyebrow. "Yeah, so?"
Yuna and Vanille laughed. Trying to avert a stand-off between the blondes, the Archprincess looked to Vanille and asked "Did you have fun today?"
"I did," Vanille chirped.
A pause. "Hello!" Rikku chimed in. "Is no one else hungry?! When do we eat?"
"The Court will be here shortly, Your Grace," Cloud answered.
Rikku groaned. "Can we please eat a little something? I mean, Vannie has to be starving!"
Everyone looked to Vanille, whose face was flushed from the sudden attention. Before she could respond, a low rumble escaped the pit of her stomach, and the group laughed.
"You thought up a nickname already?" Cloud teased.
Rikku rolled her eyes at Cloud, but gave Vanille a reassuring smile. "I hope you don't mind if I call you that?"
"Not at all," Vanille grinned.
"Cloud," Yuna summoned, "would you mind fetching Issaru, and asking him to bring us some appetizers?"
Cloud bowed, "Of course, Milady," and left.
The 3 ladies turned their attention forward again. "Vanille," Yuna said softly, "there's someone I'd like you to meet."
A very pretty, middle-aged woman with brunette hair, loose bangs, and blue eyes stood attentively at the bottom of the imperial staircase. She had a bright smile and wore red flats and a long-sleeved, red dress with a purple sash at the waist.
"Majesty!" the woman beamed, curtseying respectfully. "How went the Tournament?"
As the party drew closer, Yuna blissfully responded, "Possibly the most exciting Tournament I have yet witnessed."
The woman's eyes widened with excitement. "Tell me your Jedi friend won? I'm at a loss of his name, Milady. Forgive me."
"Hehehe," Rikku giggled. "Tidus!"
"He took second," Yuna's cheeks flushed as she spoke, "but he fought hard and lost to a worthy opponent."
Vanille and Yuna exchanged glances. The red-head smiled appreciatively from the Archprincess's kind words regarding Lightning. The woman in the red dress nodded, and then promptly turned her attention to Vanille.
"And this must be who everyone is so eager to meet," the woman stated cheerfully.
Why would anyone be eager to meet me? Vanille blushed. I'm just a former public official from a place they've never known. Is it because of Lightning? Is it because I'm with the 'Chosen One'? It must be that. Right?
Yuna smiled and placed a hand on Vanille's shoulder, "Lady Vanille, I'd like you to meet Ifalna—my Lady-in-Waiting."
Both women shook hands, and Ifalna added a curtsey. "It is very nice to meet you," the red-head said sincerely.
"The pleasure is mine, Milady," Ifalna replied.
—17—
When Lightning stepped out of the turbolift, she was immersed in a bath of warm sunlight. The window walls coupled with aqua floor tiles and pink, marble pillars that soared to the ceiling.
Lightning noticed a receptionists' desk ahead. She looked around. The waiting room was fairly occupied with injured Jedi from the Tournament, and many of them perked up at the sight of the champion. Ignoring the stares, she trudged forward until she met the receptionist.
A friendly older woman beamed up at her. "Hello, dear. Walk-in or appointment?"
Lightning had to think for a moment. "I'm here to see Aerith."
The woman looked down at her desktop, made a few clicks, and looked back up. "Lightning, is it? Oh—the champion! I watched you from the TV—best performance I've seen in 30 years!"
"Yeah," Lightning grumbled. "Thanks."
The woman toned down again and said, "Very well, dear. Master Cid requested you be made a priority patient. You see the droid over there? Its name is TR24," the woman indicated to a silver cyborg.
"Yes," Lightning plainly replied.
"TR24 will escort you to a therapy room. Aerith just returned from the Tournament. She'll be with you shortly," the woman said gently.
Lightning nodded. "Thank you."
Therapy room? For a couple burns? I don't have time for this, thought Lightning.
"Greetings Master, if you'll follow me, please," the automated voice of TR24 requested.
Lightning reluctantly followed the droid down the hallway to stop in front of room 24. The droid beckoned the champion to enter. "May I get you anything, Master?"
"No, thanks," Lightning replied as she lumbered into the cozy, dim-lit chamber void of any windows.
The room smelled very pleasant and relaxing. The lone, patient's bed laid in the middle of the room. The mattress looked soft, like memory foam, and decorated in a tribal fashion. Nearby, a tidy countertop lay with a small, basin sink in its corner. A few storage cabinets were above it.
Lightning stepped forward. She squinted at the few pieces of artwork on the walls. They were pictures of scenery, all except one. The champion drew closer to get a better look.
The drawn image showed a maimed soldier laying bridal style in a woman's lap. The woman supported the armor clad casualty in a reclined position. She was painted with dark cobalt robes speckled with black dots, and the hood of her cloak covered her hair. Her eyes were shut, and her hand hovered slightly above the soldier's mid-section.
A blue mist was lingering in the space between the soldier's body and the woman's hand.
"Strange—these people," Lightning whispered.
—17—
Here she was, sitting in the 'White State Dining-Room,' and Vanille could think of nothing but to bask in all of the glory that was Paddraean architecture.
The walls of the room were lined with white damask and combined with gilded carvings that gave the interior a special elegance. The room was perfectly complimented with posh paintings and an extravagant ceiling painting of mythical gods.
The very seat Vanille sat upon was a gilded console chair, as were the rest of the chairs in the palace dining hall. Yuna's small company of intimates feasted at the oval table in the center of the room. Dozens of aristocrats ate at their own tables, talking, laughing, and many of them now began to drink and dance around the room to the melodies of skilled musicians with violins, harps, and lutes.
This culture was so wonderful and rich. Vanille wanted to just soak it all in. She took her glass of wine and drank to new experiences.
Yuna leaned close to Vanille and asked, "How is the behe filet?"
"Delightful. Thank you," Vanille replied, taking another sip of wine.
"Oh, dear cousin, do boast of my hunting abilities!" said a deep and slightly slurring voice.
Both Yuna and Vanille turned their heads to find a young man with long blonde hair, tied back with 2 ribbons, leaning over the gap between their seats. He wore light blue armor, with white boots, and a long, blue cape with yellow trim.
"Edgar," Yuna sweetly addressed, "Have you had too much to drink?"
"No, Majesty," Edgar laughed as boisterously as any indulged young man would, and then snuck a sip from his golden goblet. "I'm simply wondering why I haven't been introduced to this fair maiden," referring to Vanille.
The red-head blushed. "Get outta' here, Gerad!" Rikku teased from across the table.
"All in due time, Cousin Rikku!" Edgar leaned against Vanille's chair for support. "Edgar Roni Figaro," the young man gently took Vanille's hand and kissed it. "Duke, and cousin to the Archprincess, but I beg you call me Gerad, Milady."
"Vanille," she returned. He smelled of a tad too much alcohol and cologne, but Vanille wanted to be polite. "Nice to meet you," she said warmly.
"The pleasure is mine, Milady," he swept a bow.
"You did a fine job with the bounty for this feast, dear cousin," Yuna complimented. "Gerad is Chief of the Hunt," the Archprincess explained to Vanille.
The red-head smiled and nodded. "Anyway," Gerad pronounced, "would you like to dance, Lady Vanille?"
Before Vanille could respond, a loud, booming crack came from the dining hall entrance—so loud that it stopped the troubadours from playing their instruments, stopped the nobles from dancing, and directed everyone's attention to the imposing figure that entered.
Vanille watched carefully as an androgynous female wearing a sleeveless navy, half-overcoat, green and gold striped purple scarf upon a red shirt with white trousers strode confidently into the room. Her arms had several pieces of spiked bronze armor on her shoulders and a red undershirt. A baby blue undershirt revealed on her forearms. She had tall, navy armored boots with dragon wings at the ankles. Overall her appearance was ornate with ruby, sapphire, gold, and diamond jewels on her armor, belt, and coat.
This purple-haired person seemed unaffected by the apparent silence sweeping the room. The crowds made way as the imposing figure strode up to Yuna's table, dropped to a knee, and placed a hand over her heart. "Majesty," she said, "I beg your pardon for my tardiness."
"Granted," the Archrpincess pleasantly spoke. "Please join us, Commander Tycoon."
The officer rose to her feet and glanced around the silent room. "Do play again!" she powerfully commanded the musicians.
—17—
A woman with emerald green eyes and flowing brunette hair, held back by a thin, sparkling headband, entered the exam room. She was dressed in vibrant green and white trimmed robes.
"Well if it isn't our champion," the pretty lady said sweetly.
"Hello," a disgruntled Lightning managed to respond.
"What's with the long face?" the brunette frowned. "You won the Tournament! You should be happy!"
Lightning stared blankly.
The woman placed a delicate hand over her heart and smiled. "Or are you not happy to see me?" she teased.
Ignoring the comment, Lightning asked, "Can you stamp this?" and extended the note to Aerith.
The champion tried to be patient. "Please," she urged.
Aerith carefully examined Lightning. "Judging by the condition of your clothes, you need to stay here a while."
"A while?!" Lightning grumbled. "I don't have all day, Lady."
The brunette giggled. "It won't take long if you cooperate." The woman circumvented Lightning and patted the bed. "Come. Sit up here."
Lightning sighed but did as instructed. She tensed when she felt the brunette gently brushing a hand along some of her cuts.
"My name is Aerith," the woman calmly informed. "You were quite reckless back there . . . so many burns."
Lightning groaned. "If I would've known I had to see a doctor afterwards, maybe I would've been more careful."
Aerith trailed her attentive fingertips over the champion's wounds. Despite the awkward contact, Lightning was comforted by the soothing warmth of Aerith's hands.
Aerith stifled a laugh. "I'm not a doctor."
"—Or nurse," Lightning reattempted.
"I'm not a nurse," Aerith chuckled a little harder this time, running her hand delicately over Lightning's burned chest.
"Wait, what?" the padawan uttered, confused. "Why am I here then?"
Aerith started tugging on Lightning's obi, and the ex-soldier's eyes widened. "What the hell are you doing?"
Emerald eyes met Lightning's azure. "I can't see all your wounds!" The brunette gave a reassuring smile."Your clothes are in tatters! Relax. We're both adults here."
The champion huffed. "Fine."
Aerith removed the obi and tenderly pushed Lightning's tunic flaps aside. It was worse than the brunette thought. Amidst the burns, Lightning's torso was riddled with bruises along her ribcage and stomach. She also had scratch marks on her abdomen. The scratches seemed odd to Aerith, but she didn't press for answers.
Lightning peered down at her battered front. "Great, more scars," she said bitterly.
"—Not if I can help it," the brunette gently replied.
Aerith quickly focused on the cabinets above the physician's counter. She made her way over, opened the small door, and pulled out a capsule of what appeared to hold tiny, fiery-colored shards. The container radiated a warm ambient glow.
The brunette carefully placed the cylindrical vile on the counter and reached up to another cabinet. She looked back at Lightning, sized her up, and pulled down a folded piece of sky-blue fabric.
"I have another shirt for you, as long as you don't mind short-sleeves," Aerith said over her shoulder as she collected the bottle of shards and returned to Lightning's side.
Lightning managed a small smile at the sight of a fresh shirt. She happily peeled off her tattered tunic.
Placing Lightning's new shirt on the bedside table, Aerith stepped around the ex-soldier to examine her back. The smaller girl expected to see the two, horizontal burn wounds. However, the brunette was startled to see red, deliberate scratch marks, five under each shoulder blade, trailing down to her patient's lumbar.
Aerith stepped back to meet Lightning's gaze. "Am I seeing things, or did a demon cat mistake your back for a scratch post?"
Shit! Vanille! Lightning thought.
Lightning's face went red. "Uh—" she stammered.
Aerith looked confused at first but her imagination quickly put the pieces together. She smirked at Lightning's embarrassment.
"I get it," the brunette teased. "Jedi on the streets. Sith in the sheets."
Lightning quietly got off the bed to walk out, but Aerith tugged on her arm and whirled her back around.
"Where do you think you're going?" Aerith asked seriously.
In her haste to avoid the awkward conversation, Lightning hadn't thought of where to go if she actually had left. "I—don't know."
Aerith tugged at her arm again. "You need my stamp of approval before you leave. You don't want to fail the first task Master Cid gave you, right?"
Lightning sighed. "No," she mumbled.
"Right. Now, sit back down," Aerith coaxed.
Lightning reluctantly retook her seat. Still clutching the glittering glass, shard canister, Aerith approached Lightning's side. Aerith unscrewed the cap and dipped her hand in to grab a fistful of the bottle's contents.
Without warning, the brunette gently placed the crystal dust over the burn on Lightning's shoulder and clamped her hand against it. "I'm a Jedi Healer," Aerith informed.
The ex-soldier winced from the contact. She noticed a blue mist radiating from the brunette's hand. "You'll have to, ahh—" Lightning groaned.
"I know it hurts," Aerith soothed, "but please try to be still. What were you saying?"
Clearing her mind of the pain, Lightning continued, "I was about to say that you'll have to excuse me . . . because I didn't know that there were different types of Jedi."
Aerith removed her hand from her patient's shoulder. To Lightning's astonishment, the entirety of the burn was gone, as well as any remnants of the fire-colored, crystal dust.
"When a Padawan is Knighted," Aerith explained, "that person may choose 1 of 3 specialties." Aerith reached into the canister to grab another fistful of shards. "You can be a Jedi Guard, a Jedi Sentinel, or a Jedi Consular."
"And you became?" Lightning questioned.
"I became a Consular," Aerith smiled, "the healing and researching branch of Jedi Knights." Aerith grabbed another fistful of crystal dust and placed it on her patient's recovering abdomen.
Lightning inhaled sharply. Her mind had to go somewhere else during this process, reminding herself—pain was only temporary, pain was only temporary. The Jedi Healer's concerned eyes met those of her patient's. "Almost done, sweetie," she assured.
The ex-soldier cleared her throat. "I'm fine."
Aerith removed her hand. Lightning's stomach looked as good as new. "You weren't fine," the brunette smiled, "but now, you are."
—17—
Gerad had since gone to find some other young lady to dance with, and the imperial officer, known as Commander Tycoon, took a seat beside her sister, Countess Lenna Tycoon, who was so busy chatting with Rikku that she hadn't noticed her sibling taking a seat beside her.
In the middle of the conversation, Rikku indicated for Lenna to turn around. "What kept you, Faris?" the younger sister asked, concern in her eyes.
Vanille turned to find Yuna's expecting smile. She was curious about the new member of the table. The two ladies were all but concealed in a crowded room with music loud enough to drown out a whispered conversation.
"Commander Faris Tycoon," the Archprincess said in an undertone. "An Earl as well."
Vanille turned her attention back to the siblings in front of her. Faris had reached into the deep inner pocket of her coat, and slowly, she pulled out a very small, black and white puppy. All who were paying attention gasped in delight. Lenna looked fit to burst into tears at any moment from the sight of the sleeping puppy.
"Oh, Faris, thank you!" Lenna clutched her sister's arm.
The officer smirked at her little sister and gently handed the puppy over. Lenna cradled it in her arms as Rikku hovered over to caress its soft fur. Vanille seemed quite pleased after watching this cute sibling interaction. The sisters reminded her of two others.
"What will you name her?" Faris asked coolly.
Lenna smiled. "Stella."
"I like that," Yuna commented. "What do you think, Lady Vanille?"
All eyes were on her, including those of the mysterious Commander Tycoon. Faris had taken the measure of Vanille with a clear, green-eyed sweep.
"Stella is a great name," Vanille stated confidently.
"Faris, this is Lady Vanille," Lenna informed.
Faris took a sip of wine, looking closely at Vanille as she did so. The Commander did not express her happiness in meeting her; she did not stand nor bow. She simply observed and nothing more.
—17—
Lightning entered the Meditation Chapel, a cylindrical, spiritual dwelling that smelled heavily of incense and wild herbs. There were no pews, just unique mats on the dark, marble floor. There was something so peaceful about this setting.
A few Jedi were lost in meditation, sitting quietly on their mats, very spread out and still. Lightning scanned the room. She noticed the back of Master Cid's blonde head. After spotting him, the master slowly raised his hand and beckoned her over.
He didn't even turn around? Lightning noticed.
Cid was meditating in a full lotus position with his eyes closed. When Lightning was at his side, he opened out his palm, indicating for her to sit. Lightning joined him, aligning herself in a half lotus position. The two remained silent for several moments.
"You're wondering why you're here," Cid observed.
What happened to his accent? Lightning was astounded. Why is his speech suddenly so proper?
Lightning breathed in the heavy aroma before responding, "Yes, Master."
"It's custom for Masters to bring their new apprentices to the Chapel, and we will stay here . . . until you commune with the Living Force."
Commune with the what? Lightning thought.
"And then we will join the High Council for the Apprenticeship Ceremony," Cid responded, eyes still closed.
"Master," Lightning cleared her throat, "How am I to . . . commune with the Force?"
"Be still. Quiet your mind," Cid vaguely responded.
Lightning sighed, trying to relax and do as Cid instructed.
"Lightning," Cid whispered.
"Yes, Master?"
"What do you make of the Jedi?"
"Well," Lightning shifted, "they carry laser swords called lightsabers. They have telekinetic powers called 'the Force', and they don't like Sith Lords."
Cid snorted a laugh. "Very perceptive, my young apprentice."
Lightning felt that her description was accurate enough, and so she offered no further remarks.
"I must be frank with you, Lightning," Cid said, his voice so low and delicate. "A path has been placed before you, and you have made your choice. It will be a hard life; one without reward, without remorse, without regret . . ."
"Have I?" Lightning swallowed. "Have I chosen this? Or has it chosen me?"
"Fair enough," Cid hummed his response. "Repeat after me: a paladin of peace, a seeker of truth, a servant of good, defensor vitae . . . a Jedi am I."
—17—
Even the bathrooms were glorious! Vanille's latrine had beige and white, diamond patterned wallpaper with a thick strip of gold-leaf paint running through the lower quartile of the design. The room had ample space, allowing comfortable movement. The toilet was an auburn marble piece and had a matching countertop with a gold basin sink.
The floor tiles were a shimmering brown color. Elegant marblesque statues were erected in the corners and imposing golden girandoles hung from the vividly white ceilings.
And while she had the pleasure of assessing all of the splendor in her midst, Vanille allowed the warm water to pour over her naked body, and revive her spirit. After all, it had been too long since she was last able to shower.
The day's events played over in her mind as she generously lathered citrus-smelling shampoo into her red locks.
Yuna: "For now, I'd like you to remain in my palace as a royal guest."
Ifalna: "And this must be who everyone is so eager to meet."
Lenna: "Faris, this is Lady Vanille."
—17—
It must have been around midnight when Lightning finally exited the Jedi Temple.
After meeting with the High Council for a second time that day, she swore an oath and was officially declared a Jedi apprentice. Needless to say, she had a rather productive day, and needless to say, she was utterly exhausted.
Now, she was the only person walking along the Processional Way, and to a larger extent, she was the only person in Harmony Square. It was quite eerie considering how occupied the piazza was just a few hours prior.
Master Cid had given his apprentice a key to her bedchamber in the royal palace and specific orders to return there immediately and rest before her first day of training.
Being the ex-military stiff that she was, Lightning Farron never disobeyed a direct order. Of course she would retire to the Jedi barracks, but first, she had to see a certain red-head.
Let the Force guide me to you, Lightning thought.
For the next 25 minutes, the new apprentice faithfully followed the blue wisps of light, so determined to find her sweetheart.
—17—
Just as Vanille finished slipping into the nightgown that Ifalna had brought to her, she heard a gentle, yet deliberate tapping noise. The red-head whirled around to find a smirking Lightning perched on the ledge of the large, saloon window.
A hand flew to her chest; Vanille damn near had a heart attack. She wasn't sure whether she should smile at the sight of her lover, or act furious for being scared half to death. Nonetheless, Vanille strode to the window, unlatched it, and pulled the saloon, glass panes open.
Vanille peered over the edge of the window. Clearly, the ex-soldier must have climbed several stories of palace wall to reach the red-head's tower.
"Don't you EVER scare me like that again, Lightning Farron!" Vanille scolded seriously. "What were you thinking?! Scaling a tower, in the dark, at this time of night?!"
"Shhh!" the Jedi's tongue swished as she stepped down from the ledge. "Don't wake the whole palace," Lightning grinned. "Nice to see you too, by the way."
"How did you find—" Lightning already lunged forward and took Vanille in her arms, wrapping her up and kissing her lips.
The red-head moaned into Lightning's mouth when she felt possessive hands around her waist. Lightning Force Gripped the saloon window panels and closed them, careful not to break the kiss with her lover. Vanille's hands snaked up to the Jedi's jaw and pushed her back.
"Light— " the red-head whispered, out of breath. "How did you find me?"
"It's a secret," Lightning replied, pecking Vanille's lips.
"You're crazy!" Vanille pushed Lightning's chest, pretending to be mad at her. "You scaled the Royal Palace just to see me?" the red-head's voice softened.
Lightning pulled Vanille closer before bending down to kiss supple lips. "I had to see you," she smirked.
Vanille giggled into the kiss. "Wait—I wanna' know everything that happened after the Tournament!"
Lightning pulled back, but the red-head traced her fingers in circles around the Jedi's strong shoulders. "Tell me," Vanille urged.
Lightning snorted a laugh. "Later, my love," she responded as she clutched the nightgown around Vanille's thighs and lifted up, "I've missed you, Van."
Vanille gave a soft moan as the Jedi kissed her neck. Her arms slithered around Lightning's shoulders and forced her closer. Lightning secured Vanille's slender legs around her waist and carried her to the lavish bed.
The red-head's back met sinfully soft, satin sheets. Lightning straddled one of her lover's legs as Vanille's arms circled the middle of the Jedi's torso.
The red-head clutched Lightning's body to hers. Indeed, she, too, had missed her lover. It had been several weeks since the couple spent so many hours apart, and Lightning felt so compelled to make up for lost time. She dived into a steamy kiss.
And just like that, Vanille was heated. The great weight of the Jedi on top of her was a lovely feeling, for she needed Lightning close to her. She wanted to hold her and never let go.
Lightning smiled before dipping back down to kiss Vanille with unfiltered passion. The red-head's hands trailed delicately up Lightning's sides and caressed over firm oblique muscles. The Jedi aimed for Vanille's neck and started tenderly nipping at it.
"Mmm," the red-head moaned. "I'm going to be sad when I don't wake up with you tomorrow."
Lightning stopped her affectionate assault and met Vanille's eyes. "Master Cid's letting me sleep in. We could stay together?"
The Jedi kissed her lover's lips again, but then she felt hands pressing against her chest and forcing distance. "Light, you are not staying here," Vanille whispered firmly.
Lightning smirked. "Yes, I am," and leaned down for another kiss.
Vanille turned her head just in time for Lightning to get her cheek. "No, you are not," she responded. "I have to wake up early. What if someone walks in?"
Lightning groaned irritably. "No one will know I'm here," she urged.
The Jedi smirked and started trailing butterfly kisses down the red-head's neck. Vanille's breath hitched as Lightning went lower and lower.
"Nnngg," Vanille moaned louder than she intended.
Lightning kissed the valley between her breasts, as the red-head tugged at her lover's hair. The red-head truly didn't have the inner strength to deny Lightning's company, nor her kisses, but she did have enough strength to set some boundaries.
"You're not staying," Vanille gasped softly. "That's," another moan, "final."
Lightning stopped kissing the inner-sides of Vanille's breasts and glanced up at her. "Is something wrong?" the Jedi frowned.
"Of course not!" Vanille reassured, pulling Lightning's bangs from her eyes. "I just don't want you to get in trouble."
Lightning gently rolled off of the red-head and secured an arm around her lover's hip. Vanille rotated on her right side to face Lightning. She brought a delicate hand up to caress the Jedi's cheek.
"Are you upset?" the red-head whispered.
Lightning smiled with her lips, shaking her head. "Of course not," she lowered her head to kiss Vanille's palm. "But if it's not too much to ask, can I . . . stay until you fall asleep?"
Vanille eyed Lightning suspiciously. "I promise, I'll be gone after you do," Lightning reassured.
The red-head frowned as she dropped her hand from Lightning's cheek down to her stomach. "You act like I want you to go . . . when nothing could be further from the truth," she whispered sadly as she played with soft fabric of Lightning's blue tunic shirt.
The Jedi kissed her lover's forehead tenderly and tilted her chin up. "I know you're just trying to look out for me."
"I'm always looking out for my Captain," Vanille teased.
"—Former Captain," Lightning corrected. "I guess . . . I'm a Jedi now."
To emphasize the point, Lightning used Force Grip to turn off the bedside lamp. The red-head giggled and nuzzled herself against the ex-soldier's warm chest.
"My Jedi then," Vanille whispered.
And the last thing she remembered was the steady sound of Lightning's heartbeat.
Author's EndNote: Faris & Lenna Tycoon (FFV), Edgar Roni Figaro (FFVI), Tifa Lockheart, Ifalna, & Aerith Gainsborough (FFVII), Issaru (FFX).