Fic: ‘Into the unknown.’
Title: Into the unknown.
Fandom: Star Wars
Rating: (G)
Time Period: Between tPM & AotC.
Summary: For one night.
Author's Note: This is quick ‘n’ dirty (for definition see the F. A. Q.).
This is the second part of the Valentine’s Day story which began at a masque ball and ends ...
We’ll see where this ends!
This story was written in response to the Valentine’s Day poll run at morethanacandle. This is best read after Known, and unknown, dangers as they were written as one story.
I’m also not promising the characters are completely in character - this was written for Valentine’s Day!
Part II of II (part I: Known, and unknown, dangers).
Disclaimer
All characters contained herein are the intellectual property of Lucas; I am not affiliated with nor endorsed by him.
_______________________
Arms folded about herself, she walked onto the balcony. Her hands rubbed her arms while she breathed deeply and instantly regretted it; the air of Coruscant was not the same as Naboo. Her hair was loose, pinned back with only two golden combs; her gown felt free after the prison of the masque gown; the top of the gown was gold where the rest of it fell white, parted to allow easy walking; it was a gown that ordinarily would never have left Naboo but after her last visit to the galactic capitol, she had felt the need to feel free within her home after certain hours.
Which was why certain hours were enforced and which was why she was surprised when a dark earth brown outer robe was placed over her shoulders and around her, wrapping her loosely within. “Standing on a balcony can be cool,” a quiet voice informed her politely.
“Are we both now without masks or shall I call my security?” She asked without turning.
A familiar half-mask was handed over her shoulder. She reached for the mask, turning as she did.
He smiled crookedly.
“Obi-Wan?”
He took the delicate mask from her hand before it fell from nerveless fingers. “Older but the same.” He tossed the mask behind them; it landed, with unerring accuracy, on a stuffed chair.
“Your hair ... the beard ...” Now she knew why his voice had sounded familiar. “Anakin?”
“He’s at the Temple, unaware of this mission due to the meditative task Master Yoda set him.” For his youth, his blue eyes seemed suddenly old. “He cannot seem to master the basic task of meditation to Master Yoda’s satisfaction. He wants already to be there, wherever the ‘there’ is, and not spend time in reflection.
“He want to always do, even when the circumstances dictate patience,” he finished, wryly for Anakin had not been the intended conversation.
She nodded politely but could not keep her eyes from looking, studying each minute detail of difference from the padawan she had once known. “You saved me this evening.” Her fingers brushed the outer robe without her realising. “Twice,” she finished, lamely.
“You looked as though you needed help and fresh air.”
“I meant the assassin.”
“Thrice, then?”
“Thrice.” Her eyes narrowed. “Why are you here?”
“With my duty done?” He stated the unspoken end to her question. His gaze fell upon the distant traffic before it swung back. “I should not be here. Our dance ...”
“... was done.” Unthinking, she pulled the robe closer. “You finished it before you ran away to be the hero Jedi think they are not.”
“The music still played.”
“And we were done.”
“What if we were not?” He asked, the sudden question bursting her careful reserve. “What if the dance were to begin anew?”
“There is no music,” she carefully replied. The outer robe fell to the balcony, unheeded. He stepped forward and stopped.
“Do we need any?” He murmured and reached for her hands.
“You’re a Jedi.”
“And you a Galactic Senator. For one night, I am willing to forego titles and responsibilities.” One hand settled on a hip. “Are you?”
Was she willing? She held her chin up, brown eyes meeting blue. “For one night,” she agreed quietly.
For one night, she could step into the unknown. For one night, she could simply be Padmé and not Amidala. For one night, she could forget the galaxy and focus on the moment.
“For one night.”
“For one night,” he promised.
He stepped forward and she back; a rhythm of two.
Fandom: Star Wars
Rating: (G)
Time Period: Between tPM & AotC.
Summary: For one night.
Author's Note: This is quick ‘n’ dirty (for definition see the F. A. Q.).
This is the second part of the Valentine’s Day story which began at a masque ball and ends ...
We’ll see where this ends!
This story was written in response to the Valentine’s Day poll run at morethanacandle. This is best read after Known, and unknown, dangers as they were written as one story.
I’m also not promising the characters are completely in character - this was written for Valentine’s Day!
Part II of II (part I: Known, and unknown, dangers).
Disclaimer
All characters contained herein are the intellectual property of Lucas; I am not affiliated with nor endorsed by him.
_______________________
Arms folded about herself, she walked onto the balcony. Her hands rubbed her arms while she breathed deeply and instantly regretted it; the air of Coruscant was not the same as Naboo. Her hair was loose, pinned back with only two golden combs; her gown felt free after the prison of the masque gown; the top of the gown was gold where the rest of it fell white, parted to allow easy walking; it was a gown that ordinarily would never have left Naboo but after her last visit to the galactic capitol, she had felt the need to feel free within her home after certain hours.
Which was why certain hours were enforced and which was why she was surprised when a dark earth brown outer robe was placed over her shoulders and around her, wrapping her loosely within. “Standing on a balcony can be cool,” a quiet voice informed her politely.
“Are we both now without masks or shall I call my security?” She asked without turning.
A familiar half-mask was handed over her shoulder. She reached for the mask, turning as she did.
He smiled crookedly.
“Obi-Wan?”
He took the delicate mask from her hand before it fell from nerveless fingers. “Older but the same.” He tossed the mask behind them; it landed, with unerring accuracy, on a stuffed chair.
“Your hair ... the beard ...” Now she knew why his voice had sounded familiar. “Anakin?”
“He’s at the Temple, unaware of this mission due to the meditative task Master Yoda set him.” For his youth, his blue eyes seemed suddenly old. “He cannot seem to master the basic task of meditation to Master Yoda’s satisfaction. He wants already to be there, wherever the ‘there’ is, and not spend time in reflection.
“He want to always do, even when the circumstances dictate patience,” he finished, wryly for Anakin had not been the intended conversation.
She nodded politely but could not keep her eyes from looking, studying each minute detail of difference from the padawan she had once known. “You saved me this evening.” Her fingers brushed the outer robe without her realising. “Twice,” she finished, lamely.
“You looked as though you needed help and fresh air.”
“I meant the assassin.”
“Thrice, then?”
“Thrice.” Her eyes narrowed. “Why are you here?”
“With my duty done?” He stated the unspoken end to her question. His gaze fell upon the distant traffic before it swung back. “I should not be here. Our dance ...”
“... was done.” Unthinking, she pulled the robe closer. “You finished it before you ran away to be the hero Jedi think they are not.”
“The music still played.”
“And we were done.”
“What if we were not?” He asked, the sudden question bursting her careful reserve. “What if the dance were to begin anew?”
“There is no music,” she carefully replied. The outer robe fell to the balcony, unheeded. He stepped forward and stopped.
“Do we need any?” He murmured and reached for her hands.
“You’re a Jedi.”
“And you a Galactic Senator. For one night, I am willing to forego titles and responsibilities.” One hand settled on a hip. “Are you?”
Was she willing? She held her chin up, brown eyes meeting blue. “For one night,” she agreed quietly.
For one night, she could step into the unknown. For one night, she could simply be Padmé and not Amidala. For one night, she could forget the galaxy and focus on the moment.
“For one night.”
“For one night,” he promised.
He stepped forward and she back; a rhythm of two.