im-a-wonderling

[im-a-wonderling]

I just hit 40k words written for White Moves First! It's crazy that this was only supposed to be a singular scene with Edmund getting jealous of Rabadash dancing with the MC. Just goes to show that stories have a life of their own 😂

[im-a-wonderling]

Rescue Me, Part 6 ~ Obi-Wan Kenobi

I have to thank @hmuwithemfeeeels, @writing-on-the-wahl, and @sassysaxxy profusely. All three of them read through every version of this part (of which there were many), sometimes multiple times. They all helped me on the path of making this part what it needed to be. I wish I could be more eloquent, but honestly, I'm just so glad that this part is finally finished, I've been working on this for months.

Summary: Y/N painfully works through her recovery while Obi-Wan is nowhere to be found.

Warnings: healthy weight gain

Word count: 5.6k

Rescue Me masterlist | Main masterlist

Vokara Che wasn’t a healer of ringing endorsements, but her grudging smile made me liable to burst with pride. “You’re making progress,” she said, laying her data pad beside me. 

I beamed at her, matching the sunshine on the walls of the Jedi temple infirmary. The itch to get moving—to return to my old self—was insatiable. I missed the faith that my legs could hold me while my hands held my lightsaber and the knowledge that my body could sustain the defense of my ideals. “When can I start training?” 

The Twi’lek healer pursed her lips. “I’m still concerned about your lungs.”

My smile and pride faded. That sounded like she wasn’t going to clear me, and that was…unacceptable. “My lung function will improve–”

Vokara Che crossed her arms, showing her famous stubbornness and making me more nervous. “You know that rushed healing makes botched healing.”

“It’s been almost a week, how is that rushing?” I argued.

But neither volume nor impatience could sway the unmovable rock that was Vokara Che. “Tell me how many days you were gone. Say the number.”

I looked into Vokara Che’s unyielding face, trying to ignore the jump of fear in my chest. “Vokara–”

She held up her hand. “Eleven days. Very little water, very little food.” My stomach turned as she spoke, as if it, alongside my brain, held onto the memories of that dark, Force-forsaken dungeon. “Your chains prevented you from moving your arms, leading to the breakdown of your muscles.” My shoulders ached, like she was awakening the wounds with her words. “Your mind was fractured–”

“My mind is fine,” I snapped. “I am a healer, same as you, and if I–”

“And all of that happened,” Vokara Che raised her voice, “before you suffered hypothermia and almost died!”

“Well, I didn’t die!”

Vokara Che’s nostrils flared, striking fear into my heart at whatever painful reminder she was about to impart. “Six days ago, Kenobi carried you into this infirmary twice because you were too weak to stand! Have you forgotten that?”

I lowered my gaze to the floor. 

I hadn’t forgotten. I didn’t think I’d forget anything about the last three weeks as long as I lived, not with the consequences that had come. 

The consequences of being taken: extreme muscle atrophy and malnutrition. Whenever I was upright, my shoulders ached, and I’d taken to wrapping my weak wrists for support, hoping it would be enough to allow me to wield my lightsaber again. Vokara Che’s careful nutrition regimen had won back a few pounds, but I was still operating from a weight deficit, not to mention my decreased organ function. 

The consequences of being rescued: hypothermia and the removal of Obi-Wan’s title of Master and position on the council. Obi-Wan had done well in warming me up; the risks of hypothermia once I’d reached the Temple were minimal. But the aftershocks of Obi-Wan’s removal from the council still rang through the Temple, and I was most especially vulnerable. 

It just didn’t make sense. The council decided not to send anyone after me. Obi-Wan was part of the council, he was part of the decision they made. Even if he personally wanted me to be rescued, personal desires were nothing compared to what had been decided by the complete council.

Being injured should’ve provided the perfect condition to deepen my connection with—and trust in—the Force, but every time I closed my eyes to meditate, in the darkness behind my eyelids, I could’ve sworn I heard scraping sounds once again. 

“Ghon will be back any day now,” I argued. It may have been a losing battle, but it hurt less than the losing battle in my mind. “I could be sent out on a mission soon, and I can’t afford–”

“Peace.” Vokara Che picked up her data pad again and started walking over to the next occupied bed. “The council won’t send you to any front while you’re still suffering the effects of so much protein catabolism.”

‘Doubt’ and ‘council’ were two words I’d been avoiding using in the same sentence. I stood from my bed, following her. “Please,” I begged. 

Vokara Che didn’t look away from the Jedi whose pulse she was checking. “The day you can jog two laps around the marble gardens without stopping is the day you can start training.”

I lifted my chin, determined. “Then I’ll be back in ten minutes.” 

-

Out of the eight separate gardens in the Temple, the marble gardens were the most sterile, and as such, the only one with a path. Truthfully, it resembled a courtyard or an outdoor ballroom more than it resembled a garden, since the only plants were tiny sprouts in large clay pots. Even the path wasn’t concrete or dirt cutting through grass, but a red onyx marble cutting through cream marble. The faint, swirling patterns within the cream made a good environment for peaceful meditation. 

But for all the contemplative beauty, I did miss the trees and plants in the other, wilder gardens, though they were nothing compared to the jungles of Felucia. Strangely, when I was on Felucia, I missed the climate of Coruscant. Now, here on Coruscant, I missed the person I was on Felucia. 

And the Jedi I’d been with on Felucia. 

I hadn’t laid eyes on Obi-Wan since the council meeting. How could he be busier than ever before after being demoted to Knight and removed from the council? Anytime I tried to follow the faint light of his Force signature, the Force led me out of the temple where my worn-out body kept me from going any significant distance.

Reaching the bottom of the marble steps onto the path, I traced the circular path with my eyes. Two laps around the gardens was almost an insult. On our mission to Kessel, Obi-Wan and I were riding a transporter in order to save a member of the ruling class from a Separatist assassination attempt. The transporter broke down, and we had to run four miles in less than twenty-five minutes in order to save the target. 

Two laps was nothing.

Despite my confidence, I wasn’t even halfway through the first lap when sweat started beading on my forehead. My lungs burned with every expansion, the twin organs struggling to keep up with the strain. I slowed my pace, reminding myself to keep going. Pushing through this pain was nothing compared to what I needed to be capable of in a few days and even less compared to what I’d already faced. 

Thirty feet shy of the first lap, I had to stop, leaning against one of the large potted plants for support. The coarse rattle accompanying every inhale made me wince. If I had a patient making that sound, I’d tell them to rest, even sedate them if I needed to. Why then did I so badly want to keep pushing? Frustrated, I knocked my fist against the rim of the pot. “Blast!”

The Force brushed gently across my forehead, lulling me into closing my eyes. I panted, leaning my whole body against the pot and allowing the Force to blanket my skin. 

In the distance, Obi-Wan’s light shone like a guiding, blinding star. And in the other direction, much farther away, loomed the threat of Dooku’s darkness. I took comfort in the separation and in knowing that when I opened my eyes, Dooku wouldn’t be there. Even if the fear of the darkness still festered within me, my body was no longer trapped there. 

“I’m safe here,” I whispered, for the words didn’t work if I only said them in my mind. “I’m home.” 

With my eyes closed, the brilliant light of the sun filled my vision with a hearty red. And in the hearty red of my vision appeared a face I knew well. 

A piece of Obi-Wan’s hair stuck to his sweaty forehead partially smudged with dust. His eyes were wide as his mouth slowly formed an inaudible shout, a vein bulging in his forehead. Then, he lifted his chin to look up, just as a large piece of rubble came hurtling down towards him.

“No!” I burst out. 

My eyes flew open, and I stared at the plants by my feet, my heart contracting painfully. The image was gone as soon as it’d come, but the fear in his expression settled heavily in my gut. Was it a buried memory resurfacing? I wanted to believe it was, but in the image, Obi-Wan’s hair was short and his beard was full. Only my recent memories featured him that way. And if it were that recent a memory, I would’ve known immediately. 

“Typically,” said a voice which immediately made me straighten, “the ‘no’ comes after I’ve made a suggestion, not before.”

I looked up into the face of Anakin Skywalker. “General Skywalker!” I said, perhaps overly brightly in my attempt to move past the image. I straightened and then immediately leaned against the pot again as my head spun, from exertion or surprise, I wasn’t sure. I grinned to cover for the lack of my bodily autonomy. “The great General Skywalker, returned to Coruscant once again.” Then I noticed the sling around his human arm, instinctively reaching out with the Force to assess the injury. His bones felt intact, but his shoulder ligaments were strained, as though they’d been displaced and then returned. Painful, but not permanent. “What was it this time?”

He adjusted the arm slightly. “Bounty hunters. Gunray still hasn’t given up his vendetta against Senator Amidala.”

Of course. His Jedi reflexes allowed him to easily escape danger, but he might’ve ignored his Force-given instincts if he were defending someone else. 

I raised an eyebrow. “I hope Vokara Che gave you something for the pain when she relocated that.”

“You know she never uses medication on me. Something about needing to learn my lesson.” General Skywalker shifted the arm a bit, as if he could still feel the pain he must’ve felt when Vokara Che put the arm back in the right position. “I was actually hoping to see you for treatment, but…” he trailed off.

I smiled again, hoping desperately that Vokara Che hadn’t told him that I wasn't cleared. “I’m…not treating people yet.”

“Are you training?”

“Trying to.” I wiped a trickle of sweat off my forehead. “Turns out, my body is still…”

“Recovering,” General Skywalker finished, a kinder word than what I was going to say. “May I join you?” 

“Of course.” I pushed off the pot, equally grateful and surprised when my body didn’t sway. 

Once on a mission to Falleen, I saw two children together. Their mothers were sisters, but the children didn’t know each other well. Both being ten years old, they’d been sent to do a chore together. They shared so much history, yet treated each other with a strange politeness. Since the skin of a Falleen changed color to reflect their emotions, the pleasant yellow hue of their skin betrayed the awkwardness of their exchange. 

General Skywalker and I’s relationship was similar. Having shared a master, our histories were entwined but our presents rarely met and only did in the Temple, specifically in the infirmary where I patched him up. Mostly our conversations centered around Obi-Wan, since General Skywalker saw him more often than I did. A fact that I’d privately wrestled with, worrying that if I were a Falleen, my skin would turn green.

Banishing those green thoughts, I focused on keeping up with the general’s pace, which was nothing short of relaxed, but even walking loosely sent the occasional painful spasm through my chest. 

General Skywalker slowed his pace to that of a baby Derbit, but the look on his face was much darker than anything a Derbit could summon. “Dooku really did a number on you, didn’t he?”

His name in the air sucked the air out of my tired lungs and dragged me right back to the dungeon, pain racing through my body. Not wanting to appear weak in front of the general, I forced in a breath as casually as I could, waiting for the images to pass. 

But General Skywalker spoke before I was ready to. “I’m glad you’re okay.” He lightly touched the top of my shoulder, looking up and down my body. General Skywalker did not have the gaze of a healer, but I knew his connection with the Force was unrivaled. There was no way of knowing what kind of information he could receive from just a look. “You are okay?” he asked. 

I wanted to shrug off his hand, but I knew sometimes the most combative patients were the ones who needed the most help, so I remained where I was. “Yes. I’ve gained back five pounds, and I’m finally able to walk by myself.” My eyes darted over to Master Stass Allie meditating in the center of the gardens. “I’m finally eating solid food too, although not very much of it yet.”

General Skywalker smiled sincerely. “I’m very glad of that. I know I’d be missing food too.”

“But not rations.”

“Never rations.” He shuddered in a manner that mirrored Obi-Wan. How odd it felt to see my old master’s mannerisms in the legendary general. What must the Jedi Order have thought when the Jedi to train the Chosen One then chose to train the padawan of Pong Krell? I could feel their horror deep in my gut, and my arms reflexively clasped behind my back. 

But since he was also Obi-Wan’s padawan, General Skywalker understood him as well as or perhaps better than I. “General Skywalker, may I ask you a question?” 

“Always,” the general said easily. 

“If…if Ahsoka was taken from you, i-if she were taken by bad people…what would you do?”

He lifted a knowing eyebrow. “This is about Obi-Wan, isn’t it?”

I looked away as the mysterious, panicked face of Obi-Wan flashed unbidden in my vision again. “Yes, it’s about him.” 

“Let me ask you this: if Ghon were taken from you by bad people, what would you do?”

My chest tightened at the mention of my padawan, who still hadn’t returned from Ryloth. The idea of him in that dark cell, chained to the ceiling, cut off from light and people as he wasted away…it made me feel sick. “Ghon is still a padawan,” I protested, weighed down by the unspeakable urge to explain myself. “He’s only eleven, he doesn’t have all the skills to withstand the dark side as we do.”

The only reply was the lift of the general’s eyebrows. 

It was sacrilege to discuss this here, in the very heart of the Jedi Order, out in the open, with Master Stass Allie meditating only just out of earshot. 

But sacrilege or not, it was the truth. 

But the truth is wrong, I argued with myself. I wasn’t supposed to choose defiance. General Skywalker and Obi-Wan could choose defiance; they were irreplaceable. I was supposed to prioritize peace over my emotions, and it was my emotions swirling in my gut, urging me to go save Ghon from a situation that wasn’t even real.

The knowing look on General Skywalker’s face made my own flush. “You’d go too. Even if the council told you not to.”

“The council was the one who charged me with the responsibility of teaching and caring for Ghon,” I protested.

“Even if the council said no?” he pressed.

I knew what my answer was, but I couldn’t speak it, could barely even think it. 

“I can feel your wrestling.” The general tilted his head. “It feels almost exactly the same as how Obi-Wan felt when he asked me to help him save you.”

A million questions sprung to my mind, but I remained silent, fighting my surprise and hating that General Skywalker could likely feel it. 

The general continued walking with such casual airs, we might’ve been discussing Coruscant’s weather, which, thanks to weather control, was the exact same every day. “We interrogated everyone in the club, but when no one could tell us anything helpful, Obi-Wan begged the council to send us to go save you anyways. He was certain he could find you.”

“And the council wasn’t,” I finished. I couldn’t fault them for it. The galaxy was massive. It didn’t matter how experienced and capable Obi-Wan was, the odds of him somehow being able to find me were infinitesimally small. 

“And that’s when Obi-Wan asked me how to steal a ship.”

I gaped at the general, unable to reconcile the image of Obi-Wan breaking the rules so thoroughly. If the council hadn’t sent Obi-Wan, of course there wasn’t any authorization for a ship. But stealing one? In a wild moment, I wondered if the general was showing his infamous sense of humor, but his grave expression settled that theory. 

By the void. No wonder the council had stripped him of his status. 

The two of us walked past Master Allie, both of us remaining silent in some unspoken agreement. General Skywalker thoughtfully wrapped his robotic hand around one strap of his sling as we walked, looking much more carefree than I felt. Then again, Obi-Wan hadn’t gotten himself demoted because of General Skywalker. 

“I wanted to go with him,” the general said once we’d passed Master Allie and could safely talk, “but someone had to create a diversion.”

Even if I knew what to say, the lump forming in my throat made it impossible to speak. I knew General Skywalker broke the rules regularly and that he broke them this time for Obi-Wan, but I was still overwhelmed with gratitude. 

“When I asked Obi-Wan where he was going to look for you first, do you know what he said?” I shook my head, not sure I wanted to know. “He said the Force would take him to the right dungeon.” 

My feet froze. Dungeon? Was that…just a throwaway phrase…or did Obi-Wan know about the dungeon before he came to rescue me? It was far more realistic to believe that his word choice was coincidence...except for the fact that Obi-Wan had indeed found me in a dungeon. “How could Obi-Wan possibly have known that?” 

General Skywalker glanced at Master Allie and then put his back to her, lowering his voice. “He saw you.”

“What are you talking about?” I said hoarsely, hardly able to speak around the frantic beats of my heart that seemed to extend through my whole being.

“When you’d been taken off the planet to Chobb knew where, he saw visions of you.”

Visions?

Of me?

“Visions that disturbed him so much, he couldn’t sleep, couldn’t train.” General Skywalker swallowed. “It was like watching him lose his mind.”

I could relate to the feeling, but now was not the time. “What happened in these visions? What exactly did Obi-Wan see?”

“You, hanging from the ceiling in a dark cave. And himself, using his lightsaber to cut through your chains.”

I gaped at him. “Obi-Wan…he saw the future? His future? Our future?”

General Skywalker nodded. “He didn’t know what Dooku was doing to you, but he could feel your pain, and he knew that it was up to him to rescue you.”

Stars, if Obi-Wan felt me, if he felt my pain, my terror, and my despair…if I’d known that he could feel me, I would’ve…

Shielded earlier.

To spare him. And protect him. 

Shame roiled through me like the Boiling Sea on Drall. I would’ve engaged in a sith technique, simply to spare Obi-Wan discomfort? Would shielding myself even have worked? These strange visions Obi-Wan reportedly had…did they stem directly from the Force or somehow through the Force from me? Would the Force have sent Obi-Wan to me? Or had I unconsciously reached out for him?

General Skywalker was watching my expression closely, and I could feel his attention through the Force as well. “Hasn’t Obi-Wan told you any of this?”

“He’s avoiding me,” I grumbled, with a bit more malice than what was necessary. 

The general rolled his eyes. “He’s off-planet, Y/L/N.”

Off-planet? Was that why the Force kept leading me out of the Temple when I tried to find him? Had the council sent him away to keep us apart? Or to punish him?

Hang on, if Obi-Wan had been able to sense me across the galaxy and following the light led me out of the Temple…did that mean I’d be able to find Obi-Wan too? If I were to get on a ship right now and blindly fly towards the light, would I end up wherever Obi-Wan was?

The light, as if reacting to my thoughts, grew larger above me. I glanced up at the ships passing above our heads, staring up into the sky beyond which lay Obi-Wan. “How is any of this happening?” I muttered as the light continued flaring. 

“You’re still confused.” General Skywalker sounded sympathetic. 

“Yes,” I admitted. “I understand a little more, but…I…I just…” My words failed, unable to contain the scope of what was happening inside of me. 

General Skywalker rolled his shoulders and glanced around us again, clearly preparing to exit the conversation. “Look, Obi-Wan always taught me to follow the Force. I think he taught you the same.” He paused, waiting for my response or trying to find his next words, I didn’t know. “He followed the Force right to you. Say what you will about right or wrong, but…that counts for something.” 

I digested that before nodding once in acknowledgement. 

The general’s comm beeped, and he sent me an apologetic look. “I have to go. Stay on the mend, yeah?” He strode for the garden entrance. 

“General?” I said. 

General Skywalker turned around. 

“It’s because I was his padawan, right?” I said, desperation making my lips looser. “That he can feel me?” 

And that I could feel him? 

A rogue smirk found its way onto the general’s mouth with such ease, I knew it wasn’t an uncommon expression for him. “If Obi-Wan can feel me in that way, he’s never directly crossed the council to come rescue me.” A rush of guilt coursed through me, and General Skywalker was shaking his head almost instantly. “Defying the council isn’t something new, Y/L/N. If anything, Obi-Wan made Master Qui-Gon proud.” And with a wink I wasn’t sure how to interpret, General Skywalker swaggered out of the gardens. 

I watched him go, my fingers fidgeting with the sleeve of my tunic. The general gave me more information, but it felt as if the facts floated above me out of arm's reach, making it impossible for me to pull them down and put them together in a way that made sense. 

Shaking my head, I started running, but only made it seven steps before reaching out for the nearest pot again. 

I wasn’t going to get two laps in today, with or without stopping. 

A wipe of my forehead showed the perspiration from the attempt, and I fumbled my way out of the gardens, ready to bathe away the embarrassing evidence of my failure. 

-

The Temple baths were empty while I bathed, but after, the corridors teemed with Jedi, all healthy enough to bustle about their business and curious enough to stare at me. I could feel their attention like a pin jabbing me in the arm. I’d felt scrutiny this intense when I walked here after Master Krell had been killed. 

Back then, I was the tainted padawan, the one no one could fully trust. I wasn’t quite sure what they thought they saw now. 

Perhaps Vokara Che expected me to return to the infirmary, but spending my days on a bed as a patient in the very infirmary where I’d once been a healer? It was mortifying. Vokara Che had allowed me to leave the infirmary to attempt my laps, so I was going back to my room to recover in private. 

“Knight Y/L/N?” 

I turned to face the youngling I’d just passed while trying to ignore his open stare. “Yes?”

“Master Yoda wants to see you.”

My heartrate kicked up. “Did he say for what purpose?”

The youngling shook his head. “Only that he’s waiting for you in his quarters.” Message delivered, the youngling bowed and scampered off, but not without a last glance over his shoulder. 

“Force help me,” I muttered, laying a hand over my heart, trying to use pressure to calm myself as I walked to Master Yoda’s quarters. It was only the exhaustion of my body that made my feet drag, I tried to tell myself. Master Yoda asking to speak to me wasn’t concerning; he was an involved Grand Master. He spoke to many Jedi every day. There was nothing special about him asking to see me now. 

Unless there was something special, and it was my turn to receive consequences. 

I gulped as I reached the door, flexing my fingers in an effort to keep them from shaking. Knock, I instructed myself. It would be a quick check-in, nothing more. Nothing unusual, nothing ominous. 

“Enter!” said Master Yoda, in his gruff, froggy, sage-like voice. 

I jumped slightly. Of course Master Yoda could sense me. It was foolish of me to be surprised. 

Forging ahead, I stepped close enough for the sliding door to open.

Master Yoda stood in between the two cushioned, circular chairs, both of his hands resting atop his gimer stick. The slats of his windows were open enough to let lines of Coruscant’s sunlight through, shining patterns onto the floor. 

I only proceeded far enough to allow the door to slide close behind me with a quiet whoosh. I bowed. “You wanted to see me, Master?”

“Yes.” Master Yoda hobbled over to one of the chairs, seating himself with what looked like great difficulty. “Join me.”

My heart lifted a bit. Would Master Yoda really want me seated if he intended to punish me? I sat, my body straining with the effort to keep good posture. 

“Great pain I sense in you. Fear.” Master Yoda’s hands rested on his knees, palm up. “Uncertainty.”

I nodded slowly, certainly uncertain about where he was going with the conversation. “Yes.”

“Suffered much, you did.”

My face burned. “Master, I–”

“Know not do I how Kenobi found you.” Master Yoda tilted his head.  “Glad I am that he did, especially before it was too late.”

Too late. 

My thoughts clashed within my mind. Did he mean before death? Or before I inevitably gave in? 

“It was too late,” I murmured.

“Hmmm?” 

I couldn’t look up from my lap. Was there much point in my broken body being rescued if my mind was still steeped in the darkness of that dungeon? “I failed, Master. I withdrew from the Force. He was right all along about me.”

Master Yoda’s voice, instead of growing louder in a reprimand, grew softer with compassion. “Right about very little is Dooku.”

“I did exactly what he wanted.” I clenched my hands in my lap, watching my fingers whiten. “I gave into the darkness.”

Master Yoda’s chuckles reverberated through the space, causing me to look up in surprise. “If true that was, not here would you be. Cowardly is Dooku. Cares not does he about light or dark, but about power and victory. Gave him neither, did you.” 

I thought back to the last moment I saw Dooku, right after he felt me shielding from the Force. He’d said something about getting me food…because I submitted. “I only submitted so that we could escape,” I murmured. 

Master Yoda nodded. “Made it eleven days, you did. Submission?” He laughed again, and the sound made me feel strangely lighter. “Weak your body may have been. But strong your spirit was.”

He’s saying I’m a survivor, I realized. 

“Maybe I was strong in that dungeon,” I croaked. “But since then…Master, I’m so afraid.”

Master Yoda nodded soberly. “I can feel your fear. Scared of the shadows, you are. Hold something you haven’t faced, they don’t.” 

“But if Dooku ever takes me again–”

“Then shown, have you, that the dark side has no hold on you. Shown, have you, that you are a warrior whose strength lies with the Force.” A smile spread across Master Yoda’s face. “Saved you, the Force did, from those who wield it for their own ends. Welcome you, it would, but more it still has for you to do.”

He was right. The Force was with me through the pain of that dungeon. It brought Obi-Wan to me to save me. Even when I’d been alone and freezing to death on that deathtrap of a planet, even when I’d passed through the veil and felt nothing, the Force held me. And if Obi-Wan’s actions were so shameful, why would the Force have led him straight to me?

I took a deep breath and let it out. Perhaps I imagined it, but it seemed like my lungs weren’t quite so resistant. 

“Failed?” Master Yoda got up from his chair, leaning heavily on his gimer stick to walk close enough to rest his three-fingered hand on my knee. “Given you an unbreakable spirit, the Force has. Tried and failed to break it, Krell did. Break it, Dooku cannot.” 

Spirit. 

An uncertain smile grew on my own face. 

My body hadn’t yet recovered. It might never fully recover. But spirit? Well, the wise Master Yoda knew much more about spirit than I.

It was with much gratitude that I stood to bow. “Thank you, Master Yoda.”

Both of Master Yoda’s hands came to rest on his gimer stick as he smiled at me. “Rest. Sleep. Meditate. Time to heal, you have.”

As I left the Grand Master’s chambers, I deeply felt just how much time I truly had. A whole life yet ahead of me, thanks to the Force.

And thanks to Obi-Wan Kenobi.

-

The next day, I ran a full lap around the marble gardens without stopping. 

Feeling full of light, I descended the steps to the baths. I was about to turn around the corner of a corridor when I paused, suddenly filled with the conviction that I was walking in the wrong direction. 

“Y/N!”

I turned around just in time to get tackled so enthusiastically, I nearly fell over. I should’ve panicked, especially because I couldn’t move my arms in this sudden embrace, but I couldn’t feel anything but simultaneous shock and relief as my padawan held me fiercely.

“Ghon,” I whispered, freeing my arms enough to hug him back. 

“You’re alright!” Hearing those words in my padawan’s sweet voice somehow made the sentiment more believable. 

“I’m alright,” I repeated, pressing my cheek to the top of his head. “I’m alright.” My vision blurred because standing in the fiercest hug I’d ever received, my gratitude overwhelmed me. I stood in the Jedi Temple, reunited with my padawan. Both of us were safe. How much did two laps around the garden truly matter?

I lifted my eyes to the ceiling, blinking away the tears before they could fall on Ghon’s head. Deep within me swirled feelings of joy, warmth and light. 

Light. 

My head jerked over to see Obi-Wan at the end of the hallway, watching. 

A strange thrill rocked through my stomach at the sight of him. He looked far more composed than he had after the Jedi council meeting, almost…regal. 

…had I been so full of my own light that I hadn’t sensed his coming nearer? 

Then I remembered the padawan clinging to me and how that might be perceived in this building. For a moment, I panicked, ready to pull away from Ghon, but then I stopped. Ghon was just a boy. A child. He deserved to have someone hug him. 

And, oh, how desperately I wanted to be that someone. 

That was when I noticed the luster of Obi-Wan’s light through the Force. Standing all the way at the end of the hall, he radiated more gratification than Ghon did. 

Ghon pulled out of the embrace, looking back at Obi-Wan. “You were right! She’s okay!” He turned back to me, talking excitedly. “Master Windu said that you wouldn’t be coming back, and Master Ima-Gun Di said that he was going to be my new master, but then Master Kenobi came to get me, and he said that you were back!”

What?

I looked at Obi-Wan. He went to retrieve Ghon? That’s where he’d been this whole time? Had he told Ghon that he was the one who rescued me? Clearly he hadn’t told Ghon that he wasn’t a master anymore, if Ghon was still using the title. Had the council sent Obi-Wan to Ryloth or had he gone of his own volition again? 

“He told me to trust the Force,” Ghon was saying, “right before you left, remember? He said ‘trust the Force’ and you would be okay. Well, I did, and you are!” Ghon flung his arms around me again, and I caught him, holding him just as tightly. But I couldn’t tear my eyes from Obi-Wan, who still stood too far away for me to speak to him. A public corridor in the middle of the Temple was perhaps the worst place for us to talk anyways, even if hardly anyone was around. 

But still, the words bubbled up from deep within me, full of meaning and unsquashable.

Thank you.

And to my shock, a reply came immediately, accompanied by an unmistakable warm glow. 

You’re welcome.

Obi-Wan recoiled at the same time as I did, staring at me with the same wide eyes I knew I regarded him with. 

What…just…happened?

Obi-Wan gave me a quick nod and walked away in a suspiciously quick fashion that could almost be categorized as a scurry. And if I hadn’t had an eleven-year-old boy clinging to me with all his might, I would’ve run after him.

-

Overall taglist:

@thelastpyle @valiantlytransparentwhispers

Rescue Me tag list:

@penfullofwordsaheadfullofstories @starlazergazer @blackqueengold @ajwild220 @exploringalaxiesfarfaraway @mortallycrispyglitter @nerdory10 @shinybananapastanickel @sassysaxxy @sunshine-girl013 @fablesrose @marrily @friskynotebook @burnthecheshirewitch @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @thriving-n-jiving @witchersoldier @cherrsnut @projectdreamwalker @cacti5539 @annshit @shakespeareansonnet @honeyb34r

[im-a-wonderling]

Girl, I just need another chapter of White moves first 😭😭

Trust me when I tell you that this fic got me into chess and I loved it and I made my brother and his friends love it too. Every time I get a Tumblr notification I hope it's a new chapter...

Are you serious about that?! WOW! 😱 I’m so glad that you’ve found something you and your brother and your brother’s friends love!! Awww that makes my heart so happy.

I was literally working on White Moves First today, making slow but steady progress. I feel that I’m at a crucial point for both Rescue Me and White Moves First, and I want to make sure these next parts are true to the characters and to the heart of the stories.

[im-a-wonderling]

I just finished your continuation of Bruises and the epilogue/standalone oneshot! I would love to see a part 2 story continueing maybe in the second movie plot, where mc comes back and explains how she dissapeared on the Isles or something!!? Btw love your writing style, such a good flow and easy to get lost in❤️❤️

I'm so glad you enjoyed Bruises, and thank you so much for your compliments!

I don't think I have enough inspiration in me to write a part two to the Bruises epilogue/standalone. However, while I don't actually fully know what happened to the main character myself (sometimes stories have a mind of their own), I will unpack some of my thoughts.

I view the main character (MC) has having been on the Lone Islands for a long time, long enough to be recognizable by most of the citizens there and to know her way around. To that end, I don't believe that she would get abducted or lost.

Honestly, I picture something similar to what happened to Elijah in the Christian Bible in 2nd Kings 2, where Elijah literally gets taken to heaven without dying. I see the MC being contented with her life, which is why she retreated to the islands. She goes on her regular morning walk, and to reward her for being a faithful and good regent, Aslan would appear to take her to his country.

Aslan would also appear to the boy she raised as her own (who is now Narnia's regent and has now obviously grown into a man). I'm not sure how he would do it, but he would reassure the boy that the MC is well, which allows for the boy to be as contented and faithful as his adoptive mother.

[im-a-wonderling]

I’m so excited for Anakin in rescue me

Does he know about Obi Wan’s … feelings?

Between the friendship Anakin and Obi-Wan have and the Force sensitivity Anakin has, I think it would be almost impossible for Anakin not to sense Obi-Wan's turmoil where the main character is concerned. What he does with that information remains for you to see 😛

[im-a-wonderling]

Hello!! First of all, happy new year, i wish you all the best, you seem like a very sweet person!

Could we have another sneak peak of "rescue me"? I am very anxious for the next update and i am sure that you will deliver something great!

Thank you 🤍

Awww, thank you so much!

I'm actually hoping to post part 6 of Rescue Me soon! There's a few parts I'm having to tweak, but it is very close to being done.

[im-a-wonderling]

Merry Christmas! ❤️

Merry Christmas to you, Anon, and everyone else! Sending y’all love in this joyful season 🥰

[im-a-wonderling]

Sneak peak for rescue me? If not totally ok, don‘t wanna be pushy 🫶

Of course 😏 Someone asked a while ago if Anakin was going to be in Rescue Me...I guess here's the answer!

“General Skywalker, may I ask you a question?” 

“Always,” the general said easily. 

“If…if Ahsoka was taken from you, i-if she were taken by bad people…what would you do?”

He lifted a knowing eyebrow. “This is about Obi-Wan, isn’t it?”

[im-a-wonderling]

My draft for Rescue Me part 6 keeps fighting me and it just makes me wanna

[im-a-wonderling]

Missing Edmund Pevensie today….specially since there isn’t a lot of fanfic about him to begin with

I knowwwww, it's a tragedy that there isn't more Edmund fanfic 😔

[im-a-wonderling]

hi!! I reallyyyy love your fic with George Weasley I just think it’s soooo cute! Do you have any plans for future parts?😚I hope this doesn’t come off as pushy I just genuinely am interested in the series!

Not pushy at all! Yes, I do have plans for future parts, so hopefully I'll finish the next one soon and post it!

[im-a-wonderling]

I have so many ideas for updating multiple fics of mine along with some one shot ideas rolling around in my head, but there isn't enough time in a week to write everything currently living in my head. Why can't I just think everything into existence?? Why can't my hands type my thoughts fast enough?? Why must I be a responsible adult?? WHY??

[im-a-wonderling]

Missing Obi especially today

In 100% honesty, me too. It's perfect writing weather where I live now, and I keep longingly listening to my Rescue Me playlist while studying.

[im-a-wonderling]

You know, I think peak writer life is being emotional because of fun ✨period hormones✨ and reading one of my fanfics and crying over my OWN WRITING

[im-a-wonderling]

White Moves First, Part 8 ~ Edmund Pevensie

In another life, y'all, I get to stay at home and drink tea and nibble on snacks while I furiously type my stories like there's no tomorrow. In this life, sadly, I am a student who must spend her time writing chemistry lab reports, giving immunology presentations, and settling the occasional choir drama. Sorry for the three-month-long wait, I hope you guys enjoy!

Summary: Despite the distance between their two lands, Y/N, princess of Archenland, is close friends with King Edmund the Just. But when push comes to shove, will friendship turn to more?

Warnings: none, other than Mr. Rabbitdash being his creepy prince self

Word count: 5.8k

White Moves First masterlist | Main masterlist

Who knew wedding feasts were so overwhelming?

Moments after Edmund and I entered the candlelit hall, my father grabbed my arm, tugging me away from Edmund before I realized what was happening. “There is Lord Dalor, you must greet him and thank him for his attendance.” 

And so it began. 

Everywhere I turned, there was another courtier I’d never seen before congratulating me. I politely listened, trying to keep my eyes on the speaking courtiers instead of Queen Susan’s decorations. She’d done a wonderful job, placing the lavender arrangements I’d chosen in beautiful places, along with pale green and purple ribbons flowing in every direction like a spiderweb. 

I thanked everyone until I was blue in the face. Pretending to be an elated bride got steadily more difficult, and the buzzing of the nobles talking all around me was slowly driving me mad. 

Lord Bote held his goblet aloft, allowing him to place his other hand on his chest in genuine gladness.  “Truly, I was so honored by your invitation to your nuptials.”

Forcing a smile, I nodded. “My father insisted on it personally.” A good reply. Flattering, succinct, and upholding of the impression that I’d been the one to invite any of these people to my wedding. 

Lord Bote beamed. “I do suppose that your–” The rest of his words were drowned out as my father—all the way at the end of the hall, standing at the king’s seat of honor—stood up and called for everyone’s attention. 

My heart sank. What could the king possibly have in mind now?

“Friends, we are so honored by your presence here!” King Loon’s voice boomed. A large cheer rang through the room as goblets were lifted in the air. The king beamed at all his guests, basking in all the attention. “Today is the day of love’s celebration!” A second cheer rose, louder than the first.

“He means his celebration,” muttered a familiar voice beside me, and I slid an arm around Edmund’s back, grateful to have something to hold onto. Edmund wrapped his arm around me in kind, and I squashed the urge to lean into the comfort which was rare on this day. 

“But now is a time of great honor for the couple, an auspicious moment that Archenland has the privilege of witnessing.” My father held out his hand to us. “King Edmund, take your bride onto the dance floor.”

I looked up into Edmund’s face, my high strung heart loosening a bit at the sight I knew so well. 

Edmund’s lips hovered beside my ear. “Shall we?”

I nodded, taking the hand he offered to me as he led me into the center of the dance floor. The music began, sending Edmund into a low bow. I curtsied.

Edmund’s hand slid across my side, centering on my low back to push me closer to him than I’d ever been during a dance. My first impulse was to pull away, as a lifetime of instruction on deportment had instilled in me. But Edmund and I weren’t merely friends anymore. Marriage changed the little courtesies forming the perimeter of our friendship. I tipped my head back to look at Edmund’s face, trying not to blush at how close it was to my own. 

“Finally,” I said quietly as we began the slow steps of a waltz. “I can take a breath.”

I could see the exhaustion tugging at Edmund’s eyes. “Won’t be long now,” he said softly. “Once they’ve all had their fill of ogling the new couple, we can leave.” 

Oh, how I couldn’t wait to do so. All the staring, the comments, the festivity that filled the room. All these courtiers were celebrating because their princess wed, none of whom knew Edmund well and none of whom knew of the narrow escape Edmund was for me. I knew no one in this room would be celebrating as grandly if it were a Calormen prince currently dancing with me for the first time as my husband, just as I knew none of them would’ve outright protested the arrangement. 

I shook my head.

Thirty minutes. For the rest of my life, I would never underestimate the importance of a half-hour.

The cause of my marriage predicament caught my eye, the Calormen prince lingering at the entrance to the hall, watching us with the posture of indifference, but the eyes of a hunter. 

I gulped. “Rabadash is by the door.”

When we were younger, Edmund pursed his lips whenever he held back words he wanted to say. As he got older, he outgrew the habit, but occasionally, I could see the slightest twitch in the muscles of his cheek. If one didn’t know him, they might think he was fighting a smile instead of the urge to speak. Edmund spun us, his eyes lifting for a moment as he confirmed what I’d just told him, and his cheek muscles twitched.

I longed to know what it was he wasn’t saying. 

Edmund spun us again so that he was once more in between the Calormen prince and I, as if to shield me from any possible harm from that predatory stare. 

“Will he never leave us alone?” I said in despair. 

Edmund’s eyes were fixated on me, his freckles standing out even in the low candlelight of the hall. “When the song ends,” he whispered, “I’m going to dip you.”

I glanced at the prince again, trying to ignore the fear worming in my gut. “And kiss me.”

Edmund grinned, and for a moment, I believed it was the idea of kissing me that made him look so eager and lively. “Adding to my strategies again?” he asked, with fondness that was even better than the eagerness. 

“I can hardly help it,” I replied. “If there’s room for improvement, I should speak up, should I not?”

“You should indeed.” Edmund twirled me and then brought me back to him, even closer than before, making me crane my neck to keep eye contact. “Since you’re the expert, what kind of kiss would you recommend?”

My heart stuttered as I lowered my gaze to the ruffles of Edmund’s doublet, suddenly bashful. “I’m hardly an expert,” I hedged. “After all, my first was only a few hours ago.”

Did I imagine the tremble in the hand at my back? “But you are the lady,” Edmund replied. “Ladies should dictate what kisses they want…so they’re expecting them.”

“But a wife expects any and all kisses from her husband, does she not?”

Edmund’s lips parted for a moment, his chest rising and falling in a quick breath. “I don’t know, I’d have to ask mine.”

I maintained eye contact, trying to uncover the unspoken words. What was he trying to say? Was he asking permission? Or was there something deeper?

Eyes never leaving mine, Edmund gently braced his hands on my hips before lifting me into the air. With his hands holding me up and my feet apart from the floor, my lungs couldn’t quite draw breath. Even once he set me down to stand on my own merit, the breathlessness didn’t subside. 

Edmund’s Adam’s apple bobbed, clueing me into the nerves he felt. My friend and husband was someone who sought out knowledge, who liked to know what to expect, who preferred a foundation of things he could understand. Perhaps, in asking my opinion on what kiss he should give, the man was looking for that same foundation. 

I didn’t know what kind of kiss was most likely to discourage Rabadash. I had a sinking feeling that if Rabadash wanted to be encouraged, anything could fuel his fire. But how did I want Edmund to kiss me? Well, I wanted him to kiss me the way he had earlier. Like he meant it. Like there was no one else in the world he’d rather kiss, even if a roomful of people watched. 

“I want you–” My voice was hoarse, so I cleared it, trying not to lose my nerve. “I want you to kiss me slowly.” Edmund met my gaze, and my heart jumped in my throat. His gaze had no right being that intense, it scrambled the words in my brain. “If…if you really wanted to kiss me,” I stammered, “i-if we really want Rabadash to think we’re in love, then you should take your time. Like there’s nowhere else you want to be.”

The only answer I got at first was a slow nod. Had I overdone it? Was he uncomfortable? 

But when Edmund finally spoke, it wasn’t a change of the subject or a rejection. “What else?”

I squeezed the steady, calloused hand in mine. “Put your hand on the back of my head as you dip me…like I’m precious to you.”

“You are,” Edmund said immediately, then blinked as if surprised by his own words. He seemed to waver on taking it back before quietly repeating himself, sounding more sure now. “You are.”

I smiled warmly, to ease the striking caution I saw on his face. I knew what he meant. Edmund was precious to me too, especially when I could tell that his mind was attempting to untangle his uncertainty in this unfamiliar situation. “Don’t open your eyes right away afterwards, no matter how everyone reacts. Just…stay in the moment with me.” I waited for Edmund’s response, too terrified to keep talking. 

The corners of his mouth turned up, and underneath my hand, his shoulder relaxed. “It’s easy to stay in this moment. With you.”

Suddenly, looking up at Edmund's almost-smiling face, I wanted the song to end. 

In the way my father was basking in attention, I’d been basking in the proximity with Edmund, dreading the moment the song would end and separate us again to face the sycophantic crowd. And now I wanted the music to trail off, to lean backwards and know that Edmund’s arms would be there to catch me and his lips to greet me.

By Aslan, what was happening to me?

Now I was more nervous than before. This wedding was confusing, in every possible way, and also not anything close to what I expected. 

As a princess, as a spare for the throne, I’d never held the power of choice, but even if that luxury had been mine, I never would’ve dared to presume my groom would be a king, and King Edmund at that.

I also never expected a wedding to happen so quickly. Royals were sometimes engaged as children, having almost a decade to get used to the idea of marriage. Even if engagements were sudden, royal weddings didn’t come together almost overnight as this one had. 

And my mother wasn’t here.

She’d been gone for years, taken from me so long ago that the idea of an alive mother seemed more foreign than having a dead one. This was an event where she would’ve been hosting. She would’ve been the one picking the decorations, ensuring the food was prepared, standing at my father’s side as they celebrated their daughter’s good fortune. Perhaps that was why my father kept moving amongst the crowd, never staying in one place for too long lest the grief could catch up with him. Perhaps he was right by having me try on my mother’s dress. All he wanted was for her to be here tonight. 

Or was that too generous an assessment? 

“What’s wrong?”

Shaken from my reverie, I came back to the present moment, blushing a bit when I realized I’d just done the opposite of what I told Edmund to do. “I was just thinking about my mom.” I poked my tongue against the inside of my cheek, trying to figure out whether or not to continue.

“Thinking what?”

“Thinking…about how my dad must feel.” I gave a half-hearted smile. “If your daughter is getting married…it’d make sense that you’d miss your wife, right?”

Edmund didn’t answer, looking characteristically thoughtful. But when he replied, it wasn’t an affirmation or denial. “Do you think she would’ve liked me?” 

“I…” My cheeks flushed. I didn’t remember her well enough to know. “I hope so.”

The responding expression wasn’t confused or pitying. It was discerning. All my life, I’d been a transparent princess—I existed. Ignored as easily as I was made a show of. Unreachable by rank. Mysterious by design. 

But when Edmund was in the room, I did more than exist.

I was corporeal. I had feelings. I carried importance. 

The music grew softer. Edmund let go of my hand to brace his at the base of my neck, guiding me backwards. Resting my hands on his shoulders, I allowed him to hold my weight. 

He kissed me, not moving from the dip position. 

At first, my mind raced. Were my lips too tense? Did I need to relax? Or was I supposed to move my lips? Edmund was moving his lips a little. I tried to match the movement, but it was peculiar. My hands tightened on his neck, my body starting to panic a bit at still being held above the floor. Would Edmund’s arms get tired? Would he drop me? 

And then Edmund’s tongue brushed my bottom lip, and I stopped thinking. My body loosened, like I was silver softening in a smith’s flame, and, by Aslan, Edmund held me like I was something precious. 

Slowly, without breaking the kiss, Edmund lifted me up again, setting me on my feet just as the warmth of his face disappeared from mine. I opened my eyes, too curious to help myself.

Edmund’s eyes stayed closed, just as I’d instructed, and his brow was furrowed as though he were in pain. I gazed at his pale complexion, drinking in the noble bridge of his nose and the dark locks of hair resting on his forehead. Then I noticed his lips looked pinker than normal. Was that from our kiss? 

Applause broke my trance, and Edmund’s eyes opened, a warm smile crossing his face. 

“We survived,” I said lightly, biting my lip to keep from grinning in too undignified a way for a princess. 

Someone in the crowd let out a particularly loud cheer, and Edmund’s cheek muscles twitched again. “Twenty more minutes,” he said quietly, “and I’m tying the tablecloths together to get us out of here through the window.”

I laughed, marveling at Edmund’s ability to put me at ease. “I happen to be an excellent knotter.”

“One of the many perks of marrying you,” Edmund said before stepping away to hold out his hand. I took it, allowing him to guide me off the dance floor. We were not among the courtiers for a moment before my father came and whisked Edmund away, leaving me behind. 

I frowned at my father’s rush to separate us but quickly had to rearrange my face into a gracious smile as Lord Mor appeared out of nowhere. With no polite way to extricate myself from the situation, I had no choice but to listen to his inane chatter while searching the crowd to see where my husband had gone. 

“Excuse me, Lord Mor,” Cor said politely, appearing at my side. “May I speak with my sister for a moment?”

Lord Mor bowed cheerfully and left. 

“Thanks for the save,” I mumbled, turning to face my oldest brother. 

“What are brothers for?” Cor smiled. 

An arm slung around my waist in a casual move only the other twin would do. “Next time you dance with your husband,” Corin said, lifting his goblet, “tell him to save the kiss for later.” 

I blushed furiously. Funny, I’d only been thinking of Rabadash seeing our kiss, not the hall full of others and certainly not my brothers. What would a happily married woman say to her brothers after comments like that? When the women of court were married, they seemed to laud their status and knowledge as married women over all the unmarried ones. “When the two of you fall in love, you’ll understand.” I tried to say it as loftily as the other women did, but my brothers just gave me strange looks. 

“Gross,” Cor said, his face pinched. 

“Heads up,” Corin said, his tone more serious than I knew to expect from him. He gestured with his goblet, and the three of us looked over to see Edmund deep in discussion with my father. King Loon looked more relaxed than I’d ever seen him, and I momentarily wondered how many goblets of wine he’d drunk. Or perhaps it was the court’s undivided attention he was drunk on. 

Edmund, on the other hand, stood rigidly; the only part of him moving was his fist at his side, which clenched and unclenched repeatedly. 

Immediately, the three of us whisked across the room to join the kings. “Father, you haven’t spoken to Lord Mor,” Cor quickly said as I slid my hand across Edmund’s middle, trying to comfort my friend. 

The king grinned, clapped Edmund on the shoulder, and loudly said, “we’ll discuss it tomorrow, my boy!” And with that, my father allowed Cor to lead him away with Corin on the other side. 

“What was that about?” I asked Edmund, twisting around so that I stood in front of him.

Edmund worked his jaw, staring the way my father had gone. “I’ll tell you later.” The tense set of his face made my chest ache a little. He’d given so much to me and my father and my people. All day, he’d done what was expected of him, with no complaint. 

All of it was too much, and more than enough for tonight. 

Winding my hand through his, I tugged him gently into a walk beside me. 

“Where are we going?” Edmund asked. 

“Bed,” was all I answered. 

-

It was customary for a husband to bring his wife to his own bedchamber, but Edmund was glad when Y/N instead brought him to a different guest chamber. It was almost identical to his, but minus the possessions strewn about the furniture and carpet. He’d have to pack those in the morning before they left for Narnia. 

“I have never been so tired in my life,” Edmund groaned, falling onto the bed. “Are weddings always like this?”

“I wouldn’t know.” Y/N fell onto the bed beside him. “Ours is the first I’ve ever been to.”

“I would be satisfied if it was the only one I’d ever have to go to.”

Y/N huffed in agreement. 

Oh, it was a relief to lay down. It was as if Edmund’s body exhaled out the tension of the day, finally allowing him to relax. Before dancing together, King Loon had directed Edmund through an endless stream of sycophantic men and women. It wouldn’t have been so terrible, if only King Loon had allowed Edmund and Y/N to discourse with the guests together, but it almost seemed as if the king were trying to keep Edmund away from his daughter.

Edmund shook his head. No, it was far more likely that King Loon intended to take advantage of having Y/N and Edmund around while he still could.

Then the dancing.

Dancing with Y/N was much more pleasant than talking with people he didn’t know, but then again, doing anything with Y/N was much more pleasant than most anything else. 

Including foiling a certain prince.

Yes, that was very pleasant. 

It’s too bad there were no teams in chess. Edmund had no doubt that he and Y/N would decimate any opponents. He sat up, looking at his wife. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, for what felt like the tenth time that day. He could hardly help it if their wedding warranted constant check-ins with his friend’s wellbeing. If the wedding had truly been an event born of ‘love’s celebration’, he’d be able to read into Y/N’s smiles and expressions of excitement. But with the pretenses they were holding up, Edmund couldn’t assume anything. 

But when Y/N smiled at him just now, it wasn’t like the smiles of the day. Her lips spread into a soft smile, setting Edmund at ease in the way only Y/N could. “I’m good. Are you?”

“Better now,” Edmund answered honestly. Here, in the privacy of their temporary chamber, they didn’t have to force anything. They could just be who they were. 

Too soon, the happy moment ended as Y/N squeezed Edmund’s shoulder and got to her feet. “Time to get ready for bed.” Edmund groaned, too comfortable to move. Astonishing, really, how exhaustion reordered one’s priorities. 

Y/N stood, unclasping her necklace and pulling out her earrings before placing the jewelry on the bedside table. Edmund watched her slide his old signet ring off her ring finger and back onto her pointer finger. Perhaps he should’ve felt slighted by the action, but really, she was right, it looked much better on that finger. 

“Um…” Y/N shifted, fiddling with the laces on the back of her dress. “Do you mind?” 

Edmund stared at her reddening cheeks, confused at first by what she meant. Then realization dawned, and his own flared. “Ah, of course.” He quickly jumped off the bed, walking around to meet her. 

Y/N turned around, presenting the laces to him. Edmund nervously wiped his hands on his pants, staring at the neat knot at the bottom of the bodice, right where his hand had been while dancing. Funny, he hadn’t remembered feeling the knot there. 

Taking a quick breath, he started on the knot. The little cords were tinier than Edmund was accustomed to working with. On a ship, the knots of a rope were much thicker and easier to undo, even if they did cause ropeburn. His fingers felt awkwardly large as he tried to undo it, but the knot held firm. “You’re too good a knotter,” he grumbled. 

Y/N’s delicate shoulders shook, from shivers or laughter, Edmund couldn’t tell until she spoke with great mirth. “Having a spot of trouble?”

“Blast,” Edmund muttered, and her shoulders shook a little again. “How secure does a dress need to be?” he groused, suddenly thankful that men’s fashion didn’t require a helper to get in and out of. No wonder Y/N had a designated lady’s maid, she had to do this every day, sometimes multiple times.

He tried to use his thumbnail to get some leverage on the knot, but it continued to make him look inadequate in front of his wife. Another minute, and he’d rip the damn dress apart out of pure frustration.

As soon as he thought the thought, his fingers slipped on the laces. Calm down, he told himself sternly. You’re a king, for crying out loud. Act like it. 

“You never told me what the problem with your dress was,” Edmund said. 

With his hands fidgeting with the knot at her back, he felt her spine stiffen. “It was nothing.”

“Y/N. Honesty.”

The princess let out a heavy sigh. Edmund could imagine her face, slightly irritated and anxious, weighing her words as he knew her to do. He wanted to know if he was right, if his mind could predict what she looked like, but he had a hunch this conversation would be easier for her without being face-to-face.

 “My father…wanted me to wear my mother’s dress.” Edmund’s fingers froze, the stubborn knot still in his grasp, as he waited for her to go on and attempted to control his anger with more integrity than King Loon attempted to control Y/N. Y/N shifted her weight. “He said I was always meant to wear it.”

“Did you like it?” Edmund asked with extreme care. “The dress?”

“It was pretty,” was her only answer.

“So you didn’t like it.”

Y/N’s hands slid down her skirt, her fingers sweeping across the fabric. “Not the way I like this one.”

Edmund nodded, satisfied. Finally, the knot gave, and he made quick work of the loops, freeing his wife at last. He turned away from her to face the wall, silently allowing her the privacy to step out of the dress. Then he looked down at his own clothes. Normally he slept in only a pair of sleep breeches, but doing that tonight felt indecent. So he simply took off his boots and fancy doublet, leaving his trousers and undershirt. Anything more could wait until they had a space of their own to solidify their nightly routine. 

He could still hear Y/N rustling about, so he stayed where he was, stifling a large yawn with his hand. The rustling continued. 

“I’m done,” Y/N finally announced, and Edmund turned to see her already sliding in between the covers of the bed. She fought a large yawn as she ran her fingers through her unbound hair.

Had her hair always been that long? It tumbled over halfway down her back, a few short pieces in the front to softly frame her face. Suddenly, the Archenland hairstyles peeved Edmund. Y/N should’ve always been wearing her hair this way. 

He reprimanded himself again. Not appropriate thoughts to have about his friend. 

He got into bed beside her, feeling glad he’d sent a note ahead to Cair Paravel to Peter to prepare the bedchamber where they would sleep. He couldn’t imagine bringing Y/N into the chamber he’d had for years in Cair Paravel. Literally. His mind couldn’t conjure the image of her walking in and staring at the organized chaos of Edmund’s things. 

The maids at Cair Paravel long ago learned not to disturb Edmund’s chambers for something as disruptive as cleaning. Once, they’d rearranged all of Edmund’s books from his ordered yet overflowing stacks onto his bookshelves, and Edmund nearly had an aneurysm. Sure, it looked messy to the outsider, but really it was an intricate system of information in the forms of books, parchment, and broken quills. An outsider would never be able to appreciate all the little marks on Edmund’s bedpost from Edmund’s attempts to master knife throwing just for the sake of knowing how to do it. 

The idea of bringing some mysterious wife into that space troubled Edmund, but he had a feeling that Y/N, his friend, would gladly stand next to him and learn knife-throwing. 

And grow more accomplished at it than he.

Nonetheless, Edmund requested Peter move all his parchment and books to a new study while having the furniture replaced and the chambers thoroughly cleaned. The only thing that Edmund had asked to remain was his solid gold chess set, a gift from a foreign dignitary whose name Edmund had forgotten. Y/N had never seen his chess set. Considering she always teased him for choosing to play black, he could already imagine the two of them chuckling over the black pieces being gold instead. 

“I can’t wait to see Narnia,” Y/N said suddenly, as if she’d been thinking similar thoughts. 

Edmund grinned up at the ceiling. “I can’t wait to show it to you.” What fun the two of them could have. He could show her the library and point out the best armchair by the window with just enough light in the evenings to read by. Oh, and she’d adore the sweet pastries he sometimes nicked from the kitchens while all the staff pretended not to see. And the best place to go in the castle to see the stars at night. The constellations would be the same as Y/N had grown up with. Maybe it’d make her a little less homesick on nights when she missed her homeland. 

They laid side-by-side in silence, and Edmund felt his eyes getting heavier and heavier. 

“What were you and my father talking about?” Y/N asked, as quiet and light as a flame. 

A flash of anger doused Edmund’s insides, waking him up immediately. He rolled to his side, propping his head up on his fist so that he could look down into her face. “Your father was asking when your coronation will be. He wanted to plan it for the day after tomorrow.” In Archenland. King Loon wanted to crown a Narnian monarch in Archenland’s hall. On a day’s notice. Nevermind the concern of crowning a queen in what wasn’t to be her new country, Y/N deserved more than a rushed and disorganized coronation. 

Y/N seemed to shrink into the comfort of her pillow, as if she wanted to be swallowed up by the soft down and feathers. “Oh.”

“Y/N?” He waited until Y/N looked at him with curious eyes. “Do you want to be a queen?”

Y/N’s expression was marble smooth, giving him no clues as to her thoughts. Finally, she said, “Narnia already has two queens.”

Edmund narrowed his eyes, trying to analyze her tone. “If you wished it, a coronation could easily be arranged. But…should you not wish it…remaining a princess would be…satisfactory.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, bestowing Edmund with her sudden humorous twinkle. “Satisfactory?”

“You know what I mean,” Edmund grunted, falling flat on his back, preferring the sight of the ceiling for his sanity.

But instead of leaving him to privately stave off embarrassment, Y/N turned onto her side, her thankfully serious face appearing in his view. “Shouldn’t this be a conversation between you and your siblings?”

“It will be. But I want to know what you want before I talk with them.” 

The princess seemed to digest this, her eyes drifting off to the side as she thought. She had this habit of puckering up her lips when she was deep in thought, Edmund saw it often when they played chess. Her mind was the most appealing part of her, so it was unfair that whenever she was lost in it, her lips furrowed together as if begging to be kissed. 

Edmund shook his head. Really? Was he coming down with a fever or something? 

“Is it even wise to have a foreign queen if there are already two?” Y/N asked. 

Edmund shrugged. “Susan and Lucy weren’t born in Narnia any more than you were.” Y/N glanced down at the bedding, her hair falling into her face. Without missing a beat, Edmund reached up to tuck the traitorous locks behind her ear. 

Y/N’s eyes fluttered as his fingers brushed the shell of her ear. “Do my duties change based on my title?” she asked. 

“Officially? Perhaps.” Edmund withdrew his hand. “Practically? Likely not.”

Y/N nodded once, meeting his eyes again. “Then I think I would like to remain a princess. Coronations sound scary.” 

Edmund sat up, and Y/N leaned back so they didn’t collide. He intended to ask her if she was sure, but the sight of her contented expression in front of her unbound hair across the pillow told him all he needed to know. Maybe later she would change her mind, and they would organize a coronation then, but for now? She didn’t want that, and Edmund wasn’t about to give her something she didn’t want. “Okay,” he said softly.

She smirked. “Though I still hope the Narnians might grant me a nickname like they have you and your siblings.”

“Oh, certainly,” Edmund replied. “Especially if they see your fear of coronations.” He gestured grandly. “Princess Y/N the cowardly.”

His friend snorted, running her hands through her unbound hair. “More like Princess Y/N the prudent.”

“Y/N the theatrical.”

“Y/N the eloquent.”

“Y/N the laughable.”

Y/N held up a finger. “Y/N the modest.”

“Y/N the loquacious.”

She burst into giggles at that one, a sound that was impossible not to love. Edmund chuckled, unable to help himself. 

Their laughter quieted as both settled into their pillows. “Blow the candles out?” Edmund asked. 

Y/N hummed, and both of them blew out the candles on their bedside tables. 

They didn’t talk anymore. The only sound in the darkness was the occasional rustle as Edmund or Y/N changed position. 

Edmund had never shared a bed before. Was Y/N a light sleeper? Would adjusting his position wake her up? Edmund’d never been able to fall asleep quickly; his mind was too active. What if Y/N didn’t feel comfortable falling asleep until he was asleep?

Oh, Aslan, what if Edmund snored? He didn’t think he could ever live it down if he snored and she couldn’t sleep because of it. If he did snore, they’d have to sleep in different bedrooms. Maybe they needed to do that anyways. Would Y/N prefer her own room at Cair Paravel? Would she tell him if she did, or would she simply follow his lead? Maybe Edmund needed to just assume she would prefer a different room. But what if she found it insulting? In the morning, he could ask her, she had promised him honesty if he asked for it. 

There, it was settled. He’d ask in the morning.

Oh, he was an unthinking moron. He should’ve asked her before they settled in to sleep tonight. But then again, he didn’t doubt that the Archenland court and staff would gossip wildly if they knew Y/N and Edmund slept in different rooms on their wedding night. The staff at Cair Paravel would be much more understanding, so maybe they needed to wait at least until they were in Narnia. 

“Edmund?” Y/N said tentatively into the darkness. 

“Yes?” 

“Remember when you promised to do whatever I requested?”

“Yes.” Oh no, was she about to ask for a different room? Edmund decided he would be the one to leave. He didn’t want her walking around the halls on her wedding night, people were much more likely to question her than him. 

“Will you…will you hug me?” 

Edmund blinked. “Of course.” He shuffled over to her, and Y/N shuffled into his arms before he could decide on the logistics of hugging while horizontal. 

His right arm acted as a pillow for Y/N’s head while his left curled around her back, holding her close. His fingers unintentionally tangled up in her hair, and it felt exactly as he’d expected. Y/N tucked her head just underneath his chin, the tip of her nose brushing the hollow of his throat. He rubbed her back gently, wanting to reassure her. 

This was…surprisingly nice. Sure, maybe Edmund’s arm would fall asleep with Y/N laying on it, but until it fell asleep, it was very comforting. Y/N seemed to agree. He felt rather than heard the long exhale from Y/N’s body as she nestled into his embrace.

When he sleepily laid back a little so he wasn’t directly on his side, somehow Y/N’s head ended up in the crook of his neck. The last thing he remembered before falling asleep was Y/N’s hand slowly coming to rest on his chest.

-

Overall tag list:

@thelastpyle @valiantlytransparentwhispers

White Moves First tag list:

@thesecretlifeofpenguins @read-just-cant @chesh-ire-cat @emotionallyattachedteen @cassini-among-the-stars @uncontainedsmiles @mastermasterlist1p1 @goldfishinpainttubes @silverowl102 @daisyslife

[im-a-wonderling]

Hi, I stumbled onto your writing today and I was wondering if your Bucky x Reader series Emergency Room was ever completed - I address able to find anything past part 4 and I'm dying to know how it ends!

Hey there! Unfortunately, no, I never finished Emergency Room. Emergency Room was my first (and only) instant, massive hit. I got about 900 notes in the first 24 hours, which was insane to me as a newbie tumblr writer. People liked it enough that I made it into a series, even though I really only ever had inspiration for the first part. I'm a plotter, I know exactly how each one of my ongoing stories at the time are going to end...with the exception of the ones I eventually realize I am not writing for my own enjoyment. Emergency Room falls into that category. I wish I could at least give you an ending for you to imagine for yourself, but I can't even get that far into plotting for this series 😅

[im-a-wonderling]

Rescue Me, Part 5 ~ Obi-Wan Kenobi

Sorry this took so long! I had a conference and then a car accident and then was maid-of-honor in a wedding, so safe to say things have been chaotic. I hope you guys enjoy!

Summary: Y/N tries to cope with the aftermath of the events on Neftali and Obi-Wan Kenobi's part in them.

Warnings: a sort of panic attack and PTSD

Word count: 5.9k

Rescue Me masterlist | Main masterlist

Words did not exist in the place I was.

I did not exist in the place I was. 

And strangely enough, there was no place where I was either. I was both nowhere and somewhere. Or maybe I was multiple somewheres at the same time.

But there was no time. 

Time did not exist either. 

There was no weight to me, for there was no form to me. I could not move, but I did not need to. I could not feel, and I didn’t need to do that either. All I needed was just to be, and I was, and the was-ing was.

Then something shifted.

I couldn’t describe what was different from Before, I only knew that I was now in After. There was no light, no sound, no smell, nothing I could discern other than the certainty that somehow, something was changing. Gradually, everything began to grow heavier and heavier, but not in a fearful way or an exciting way, just in a way.

And then, suddenly, there was pain.

Oh, it ached and burned, growing worse. And worse.

I couldn’t temper it or move away from it, forced to experience the pain exactly as it was.

Then, I felt tiny strikes, small reliefs from the otherwise all-consuming fire.

Next came the light. Dull and warm. It didn’t shine on any shapes or colors, but any light was a contrast from the nothingness of Before. 

Slowly, I became aware of where the fire’s shape started and stopped. Where I started and stopped. I could feel legs and arms again, battered and burning as they were, but I couldn’t move.

“Y/N, please, please wake up!”

I could’ve cried at the sound of that voice coming from somewhere above me. I tried to say the name, but my voice didn’t work, as if it was still in Before.

“Please, Y/N!” 

Now I could feel my face, but most particularly the pressure on my cheek accompanied with tiny scrapes that did not hurt.

“C’mon, talk to me, open your eyes, breathe!”

I tried. I tried so hard to listen, because I would do anything that voice asked of me, but I couldn’t move, no matter how hard I fought.

Obi-Wan’s voice grew quieter, and at first, I was alarmed. Was I fading back to Before? No, that couldn't be, because I could still feel the burning pain and the small pricks of relief. No, Obi-Wan’s voice softened as he chanted something. Was it my name? It didn’t sound quite right to be my name. I strained to listen.

“I’m sorry,” he was saying. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

 He said it over and over, and I yearned for him to stop, but the words only poured forth at a greater speed and intensity. “I should’ve run faster, I should’ve gotten to the club sooner, she wouldn’t be here if I’d been faster. I shouldn’t have left her alone in that bar or in the storm, I should never have let her go. It’s all my fault, I know it is, but please don’t take her from me.”

My chest twinged, a hurt much different from either the fire or ice. I gathered every part of myself, urging my body to listen. Obi-Wan didn’t deserve this. He saved me when I’d already owed him more than I could ever repay.

Another tiny strike hit my face, but it wasn’t cold like the others. “Please don’t go, Y/N.”

I clung to the words, building up the momentum.

Move, I ordered my body.

Nothing happened. 

MOVE!

All at once, my chest rose as I inhaled what felt to be a great big breath. My heart started at a dizzyingly painful pace. Had it not been beating before? 

A strangled, shuddering gasp came from above. “Y/N?”

I still couldn’t move my arms or legs or even lift my eyelids. But my chest moved as my lungs expanded and retracted.

Whatever I was lying against shifted. “You’re okay.” The familiar scrape brushed across my forehead, my hair. “Thank the stars.”

I tried to speak, but all that came out was a tiny grunt.

“It’s okay, you’re okay, you’re safe, take your time.” The warm scrape brushed down my temple back to my cheek. The callouses on Obi-Wan’s hand, I realized. Then something else brushed my forehead without scraping, something softer.

I’d felt it recently before.

Was…Obi-Wan…kissing my forehead?

Fighting for every miniscule movement, I peeled my eyes open.

The first thing I saw was the upside down and blurry face of Obi-Wan. I blinked several times, and my vision cleared to show me the ginger hair laying flat against his head and trickles of water rolling down to meet his beard. His eyes blinked rapidly, likely protesting against the water.

The water. The tiny strokes of relief from the fiery pain all over my body was water. 

Were we in a refresher?

“Buh…” I managed to say, but the sound was painful to my own ears. I weakly cleared my throat. “Bun-ker.”

From Obi-Wan’s expression, one could have mistaken the word for a treasure. “No, we’re not in the bunker, we’re on the ship, we’re going back to Coruscant.” He shifted behind me slightly, making me aware of how much of my bare skin was touching his, but I didn’t have the energy to pull away even if I’d wanted to. “How do you feel?” 

I swallowed, the movement feeling as foreign as if I’d never done it. “Hurts.”

He nodded, giving a weak laugh that reverberated against his chest where I lay. “That’s to be expected.”

My view continued to expand. I could see the walls of the refresher behind Obi-Wan and water dripping down from the stream pouring from the head of the refresher. 

“How…?”

Obi-Wan’s hand squeezed my arm. “I found you.” Normally the words would be comforting, but there was a strangeness to them. Was it the tone? The cadence? I wished we both were still connected to the Force so I could better understand what lay beneath his words, but as it was, I couldn’t muster up any words to ask.

With great effort, I lifted my hand from where it’d lain limply by my side to cover his hand.

Obi-Wan looked away so immediately, I nearly withdrew it, as if I’d done wrong. But while his face was turned away from me, his arms seemed to hold me tighter. 

I pressed my hand to his chest, waiting patiently for him to turn back to look at me. 

Was I imagining the shudder that passed through his body when he finally met my eyes? And also the fear in his blue eyes?

“It took so long,” he finally rasped. “I came back, and you were gone, and it took so long–” He shook his head as he cut himself off, eyes falling to the floor of the refresher. Whatever words were building in his throat seemed to be hurting him. “You were blue. You were blue, and you weren’t moving, not even breathing, and I was so scared that you were–” Again, he stopped, staring hard at the floor. The rising and falling of his chest was more ragged than before. 

I lifted my hand from his chest to his face, trying to reassure him. 

He cleared his throat, looking back at me with hope. “But then I remembered what you told me when we were in the bunker, a-about not rewarming too quickly? And then…then that gave me the hope that you would wake up.” 

I gave a weak smile. 

We sat unspeaking, listening to the pattering of the water on the floor. While moving was still greatly difficult, I gradually felt more and more aware. Obi-Wan watched me carefully, his gaze constantly shifting from my face to the rest of my body. 

When Obi-Wan reached up to turn off the water, I could finally hear the hum of the ship’s engine in the absence. Obi-Wan didn’t move yet, seemingly in no hurry. 

My wrists started throbbing oddly, and I tipped my head to look at them. The shackles are still there, I realized. Of course there was no way Obi-Wan would risk cutting off my hands altogether simply to remove the chains that still bound me.

But somehow, those chains felt heavier than everything else. 

My breathing grew choppier. 

Eleven days. 

I’d spent eleven days hanging from the ceiling, eleven days with little water and littler food, eleven days in pain while being…

I shuddered. If Obi-Wan hadn’t come for me…would I have died in that dungeon? Or would Dooku have kept me alive and suffering until I caved?

Obi-Wan’s thumb moved to wipe away a tear I hadn’t realized had fallen. “You’re okay.” 

The soft words only made more tears fall. Obi-Wan flinched as the vice grip I clung to him with increased. I tried to let go, but my hands could only cling to the only safety I could feel without the Force. 

Obi-Wan gently freed one arm and grabbed the cloak sitting on the metal floor just outside the refresher, using it to wipe off the excess water. 

Once I was dry enough, he got to his feet, pulling me up with him. My feet, still bare, shuffled against the metal floor as I focused on trying to stay balanced on them. “I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan said helplessly as he guided me onto a rickety cot in the ship, “I left too quickly to grab any supplies. I don’t have food o-or water or any clothes for you or even blankets and we’re still hours away from Coruscant.” 

I wanted to wave away his concern, but the fabric of the cot was likely just as cold as the metal surface of the floor. 

“You’re shivering,” Obi-Wan said with alarm. “You weren’t shivering before.” 

“N-no, it’s g-g-good,” I muttered quietly through chattering teeth. “M-m-means m-my bod-dy is fin-nally fi-fighting.” For warmth, I wanted to add, but it was so taxing to speak. 

Obi-Wan pressed the back of his hand to my forehead. “You’re still not warm.” He took his hand away, and my forehead felt colder than ever. 

I reached out blindly for his wrist, and upon finding it, brought his fingers back to my forehead, sighing at the warmth of his skin. It didn’t matter that I hadn’t reconnected with the Force, I didn’t need it to know that Obi-Wan was hovering. 

The cot sank a bit by my thighs, as if Obi-Wan was leaning his weight into that spot. Then, the space behind me dipped further.

An arm wound around my waist, pulling me into the heat of Obi-Wan’s body.

There was a soft grunt. “You’re freezing.”

I didn’t answer, too overwhelmed to think straight. His touch was still prickling and painful against my skin, but there was another sensation that bloomed somewhere deeper than my skin, a sensation that seemed to frighten the chill. When my shivers finally subsided, my still body sent my exhausted mind into the embrace of sleep.

-

“Y/N?” Obi-Wan said, what felt like a minute later.

I forced my eyes open to see him in front of me, the metal walls of the ship just behind him. There was no hum from the ship’s engine. 

“Let’s get you to the healers.”

Pressing my cheek into his chest, I allowed Obi-Wan to pull me to feet I could barely feel and guide me wherever he wished. Even though it was night on Coruscant, everything still seemed too bright. I squeezed my eyes shut as the movement of walking tugged and pulled at my sore body. 

“Y/N?”

The voice was familiar enough for me to peel my eyes open in time to see Chief Healer Vokara Che rushing towards us. “Put her down here.”

Obi-Wan helped me lay on the bed Vokara Che indicated, and the minute my back touched the cushion, Vokara Che started bustling about. She pressed a hand to my chest, just under my collarbones, in the way of Jedi healers and the way she’d taught me. I could feel her searching the Force within my body. 

“What are you waiting for?” Obi-Wan came around to my other side, having been pushed out of the way by the head healer. “She needs food!”

Vokara Che snapped in Obi-Wan’s face. “Do not order me around in my own temple infirmary, Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan’s nostrils flared. “She’s been starving–”

“She cannot eat yet,” the healer snapped, “or we risk subjecting her to refeeding syndrome.”

“I didn’t bring her to you so you could–”

“Kenobi, hold your tongue or I’ll have you thrown out.” The following moment of silence was fraught. “Y/N,” she said, quietly but not gently, “the Force in you has been disrupted.”

I nodded. 

“Was your Force connection severed?”

I glanced at Obi-Wan before realizing, too late, how incriminating such an action might be. “I had to pull back,” I whispered. “Che, it was Dooku.” 

Vokara Che looked between the two of us, her lips pursing. “No wonder you’re so weak.” She yanked a blanket up and over my body. “You know what the first step towards healing is.”

I needed nothing more.

The moment I threw my mental shields down, the Force came rushing in, filling me with such warmth and security, I let out a long breath. My eyes closed, my body lighting up with something akin to rejoicing. Homecoming. 

When I opened my eyes, the lights in the temple infirmary seemed brighter. Vokara Che patted my shoulder in her firm manner. “Now stay still, I need to scan you.”

She bustled away, rummaging around before returning with a machine I knew well. We used it to quickly scan and address physical injuries. The machine whirred as she passed it up and down my body, collecting information.

The beep of confirmation was followed with a sour look on the healer’s face. “You’ve lost 18% of your body weight.” 

18%? Almost a fifth of my total body weight?

Even though Vokara Che spoke with a matter-of-fact tone, I could feel the buzzing of her anxiety through the Force, even if it wasn’t as palpable as the anxious thrumming of the light. The healer’s eyebrows lowered the more statistics the machine provided. I closed my eyes, too tired to keep up. 

Malnutrition slowed healing greatly. My body didn’t have the energy for basic functions, let alone the uphill climb of getting my muscle mass back. To avoid refeeding syndrome, I’d have to introduce enough nutrients with slowly increasing amounts of food, keeping close watch on my metabolic levels. It would be a slow process. 

“May I speak with you, Kenobi?”

I opened my eyes to see Obi-Wan standing beside me, looking down with a blank expression that couldn’t disguise the worry permeating his force signature. 

“Go.” I patted his arm to try and be comforting. 

“Kenobi?” Vokara Che prompted again. 

Obi-Wan turned with what seemed to be great effort before following Vokara Che out of the door. 

Leaving me alone.

The only light came from the window behind me. 

I didn’t need the beeping to tell me that my heart rate increased. I’m safe, I told myself sternly. Obi-Wan and Vokara Che, my two mentors were only just on the other side of the door. I wasn’t in the dungeon, I was in the Jedi Temple. Dooku was far from me. 

A gentle scraping started off to my left. 

“No,” I mumbled, my mouth dry. The chains around my wrist clanked as I clutched my arms to my chest. They ached as if I were right back in that dungeon. Suspended. Hanging. The subtle thumping of my heart in my chest grew until I could feel it beating in my stomach. 

The scraping increased. 

I can’t go back, I can’t do this again, never again, not back in that place, not back with Dooku, freezing and starving, I can’t–

“Y/N!” Obi-Wan burst in, rushing to the side of the bed. “What’s wrong?”

I only balled up tighter. No matter how hard I fought for air, I never got enough. A sharp cramping started in my side, painful enough to make me gasp. 

“She’s panicking,” Vokara Che’s voice said, sounding funnily distant. 

A hand touched my shoulder. My skin seemed to scream at the contact, but my limbs couldn’t move beyond the trembling of my hands. 

“Y/N, honey, look at me.”

I was petrified, unable to respond or move or even breathe.

“You’re safe. Dooku isn’t here. You aren’t on Neftali. You’re safe, you made it, I’ve got you.” He said the words over and over again, a wave of reassurance flowing in from the light. 

Then, before I could react, arms wrapped around my hunched body. Gently, hands guided my head up until my face pressed into the telltale fabric of a Jedi tunic. A chin rested on the top of my head, and when Obi-Wan continued to speak, I could feel the rumble of his words against my temple. “You’re safe. He can’t get you here.”

Finally, I clutched the front of his robes with my trembling hands, taking comfort in the Jedi-ness of the fabric’s coarseness. Don’t go, I pleaded with my grip. Don’t leave me. 

“That’s it,” Obi-Wan said gently, his hold tightening on my shoulders. “That’s it, honey."

As the panic subsided, exhaustion took its place. I started to droop against Obi-Wan’s chest, my grasp on him quickly slackening. He could’ve easily untangled himself from me now, but I didn’t feel him move. 

“Kenobi–”

“I’m not leaving.” A hand rested on my head. “I’m not going anywhere while she needs me.”

“Your judgment is clouded,” the head healer said briskly. “You have no idea what’s best for her right now.”

“I’ll be quiet,” Obi-Wan promised, his light thudding in time with the heartbeat against my ear. “I’ll do whatever you tell me, I swear.” 

Vokara Che’s response was muddled as I fell back into sleep.

-

My eyes flew open. I grasped my wrists where I could feel the chains, but my hands touched not harsh metal but my own warm skin. My body remembered the chains, even if they were no longer there. 

I glanced around me, the sight of the temple infirmary never more comforting. There was ample light, and the faces of the other Jedi were comforting in their familiarity. I’m not in a dungeon anymore, I reminded myself as my eyes traveled over the other beds. 

Then my eyes reached the seat beside my own bed where Obi-Wan sat, watching me with the look I recognized as an assessment. “How do you feel?” he asked. 

“I’m well enough.” I sat up, swinging my legs to the side of the bed. The casual air I’d intended to have was foiled by the slowness of my movements and the pained grunt that left my lips. 

I paused then, disoriented by the Jedi undertunic I wore again. When had that been put on me?

Obi-Wan’s light gave a thoughtful ripple, and I distinctly avoided looking at his face. Shame coursed through me at how pitifully I’d clung to him before falling asleep. That wasn’t the Jedi way. Our comfort came from the Force, not from other beings. Obi-Wan was being far kinder than his mission required him, though it was likely second nature to him now after being my master. 

Speaking of…

“Where’s Ghon?” I asked. “How much does he know? Is he upset?”

Obi-Wan’s face pinched for a moment before returning back to the placid mask I recognized as being his negotiator’s mask. “He’s worried about you. He knows your mission was only supposed to take an evening.”

I winced. Ghon needed a lot of support, and after this whole ordeal, he would be practically buzzing with anxiety. Before I could ask anything more, my eyes flitted to the infirmary doors just in time to see them open. 

Luminara strode in, coming quickly to my bedside and addressing Obi-Wan. “The council requests that you appear before them.”

Obi-Wan nodded, getting to his feet. 

“Both of you.”

The light pulsed unpleasantly. “Y/N has still not recovered. She is traumatized and needs time to heal.” Obi-Wan’s authoritative tone didn’t seem to land with Luminara. 

She blinked slowly, a brave feat when faced with Obi-Wan’s displeasure. “I’m sorry, sir, but the council insists.”

I braced my hands on the bed, using them to balance my weight on my feet. “I’ll go.”

Obi-Wan stepped closer, reaching out as if to push me back on the bed. “You can’t, you’re not well.”

“I will answer the council’s request.” I picked up the Jedi overtunic on the small table beside my bed, struggling to put my arms through it. 

“Y/N–”

“Don’t.” I finally managed to pull the tunic on, relishing in the familiarity of it. “I’ll not let your concern get in the way of my obedience.” Attempting for loftiness, I lifted my chin before brushing past him, but I only managed a few steps before reaching out for something to aid me in holding myself up. 

Wordlessly, a calloused hand caught mine. Much like how we’d walked to the club, Obi-Wan let me lean on him as he walked me out of the infirmary, except now I didn’t have poor footwear to blame my unsteady gait on. 

It was a good thing those blasted shoes and revealing dress were still on Neftali. I never wanted to see them again.

“You should be resting,” Obi-Wan grumbled, clearly unable to help himself. “The council can wait a day or two.” Perhaps it was my imagination, but the farther we walked, the more agitated the light grew. Was he truly that worried about me?

“It’ll be quick,” I promised, without a clue how long the meeting would actually take. Strange. It was just the type of promise I would make Ghon. A promise born of a deep desire to reassure without being certain of the truth. 

Obi-Wan slowed down. “Let’s take a break.” I started to disagree, but he cut me off with: “Y/N, your breathing is getting ragged.”

I stopped walking, pressing a hand to my chest. He was right. I allowed him to lead me to the nearest wall so I could lean up against it. 

I could remember a time when my body lived easily, when my steady heartbeat paired with the assured pumping of my lungs. My legs were capable of inhuman jumps while my hands could heal nearly every possible wound. But now, when my body didn’t have to do any of those things, something as simple as walking required more of me than I had to give. 

That 18% loss of my body weight took all my stamina and fortitude with it, and I sorely missed them. 

“I won’t be jumping off of any mountains any time soon,” I tried to joke, but my tone was all wrong, too flat and serious. I glanced up at Obi-Wan, prepared for a teasing comment about wallowing, but he wasn’t looking at me. He was staring down the hallway in the direction of the councilroom, his hands fidgeting with his robes. He looked as though he were gauging the distance. Obi-Wan could be protective, he’d proven that on Taris. But why was he so protective now? Only a few more feet and I would be in one of the most protected places in the galaxy. 

When I got up, Obi-Wan didn’t take my arm again. Instead, he hovered a stride behind me, close enough to catch me if I were to crumple to the floor. If he’s so worried I’ll fall, why doesn’t he walk beside me? I wondered.

We reached the councilroom doors, and I didn’t even have a moment to smooth down my robes before they slid open.

There should’ve been some comfort in the familiarity of the grave expressions of the council, but their faces only made me tense. “Knight Y/L/N,” Master Shaak Ti acknowledged, her voice firm. My spirit gave an almost audible waver as if it gulped where my dry and sore throat could not. 

Obi-Wan hung back, allowing me to walk in first. I did, expecting him to walk past me towards his seat once I reached the center of the room, but he did not. Behind me he still stood, exactly in the position I’d stood when I was his padawan. Why was he behaving as though he were the lower-ranking warrior between the two of us when his empty council seat was right before me?

Master Windu extended a hand. “We’re pleased that you’re safe.” I bowed slightly, wishing his tone sounded less robotic so that the words might sound more genuine. “We sent for your padawan the moment you arrived. He should arrive from Ryloth soon.”

Even at lightspeed, it took days to travel to and from Ryloth safely. If I’d been gone for ten days before they sent Obi-Wan after me, I’d have been gone less than a week before they sent Ghon away. 

I tilted my head. “Why is he there?”

“When we were unsure that you would return, we reassigned him to Master Ima-Gun Di.”

I stared at Master Windu, my lethargic brain struggling to wrap my mind around the idea of my padawan being reassigned. When his face didn’t shift, I glanced around at the others, hoping for some explanation. Did they not have faith in Obi-Wan’s ability to rescue me? Is that why they sent my padawan away before sending Obi-Wan after me?

Master Yoda lifted the end of his walking stick, pointing it at me. “Conflicted, you are.”

“Yes,” I admitted. “This ordeal has been…confusing.” I felt the Force in the room darken a bit. “I imagine it will take a lot of work before I am fully–”

Fully what? Fully at peace? Fully safe? Full healed?

“–normal.”

“Vokara Che has notified us of your injuries.” Master Mundi leaned forward. “You endured much.”

Unbidden rose the feelings of cold, hunger, and fear. I lowered my gaze to the floor, trying to remain calm in front of the council. How was I expected to respond to that? How would one of them respond if they had been subjected to Dooku’s torture? 

“I’m just grateful it wasn’t worse,” I finally replied, even as my thoughts swirled. Was grateful the right word? Yes, I was glad to be out of that dungeon and off that icy planet and perhaps even glad to be standing before the council. But was I truly thankful that it wasn’t worse? How could it even have been worse? 

“Much more rest, you need,” Master Yoda decided, his wise eyes piercing my inner depths. “Feel your exhaustion, we do.”

I bowed my head. “Yes, master.”

“Heal while you await your padawan’s return,” Master Windu said. “When he does, we’ll inform you of your next mission.”

Another mission. I swallowed hard before bowing and leaving the chamber on unsteady legs.

The doors hissed shut, but I didn’t sag against the wall to catch my breath until I’d turned the corner.

Perhaps it was a good thing Ghon wasn’t here to see his master like this. In the few days until he arrived, I needed to get my strength back. Especially if the council would send us on our next mission when he arrived. I couldn’t afford to not be able to protect my padawan when Dooku was now aware of his existence and could potentially target him.

I heard the council doors open. Ever the humble Jedi, Obi-Wan’s feet dragged a bit as he came around the corner, his light flagging. Did he truly hate praise so much? I’d only been commended by the council once, but it was a euphoria unlike anything else. Though perhaps when one had been commended so many times, it lost its punch. 

The smile I plastered on my face took much effort, but I resolved to stay positive. “So? Did they give glowing praises?”

Obi-Wan’s eyebrows furrowed as he bent down beside me. “You don’t look well,” he said softly. 

My smile fell. “Is it that obvious?”

“Yes.” Obi-Wan smirked. “C’mon, let’s get you–”

Abruptly, he stepped away until he was almost on the other side of the corridor, just as Masters Windu and Fisto rounded the corner. 

I blinked, confused.

I’d felt their Force signatures drawing near just as Obi-Wan had, but I’d ignored it, whereas he’d almost scrambled away from me. 

The masters didn’t look in my direction, walking right past me without so much as an acknowledgement. When they were well past us, however, Master Fisto glanced back at Obi-Wan, and I felt a surge of something through the Force.

Regret?

No, that wasn’t quite right. 

It was too complex, too layered for me to puzzle out and after the masters walked through the doors at the end of the corridor, their Force signatures grew too faint for me to fully perceive what lay within them. 

Obi-Wan came to crouch beside me again. “Vokara Che said she has a regimen for you, to get your strength back, and she wants you to start today.” He held out his hand to help me up. 

“What’s going on?” I asked him instead of accepting his hand.

“I’m taking you back to–”

“No,” I interrupted, “what’s going on with you? Why did Master Fisto look at you like that? What happened?”

Obi-Wan licked his lips. “Y/N,” he said in a way that didn’t sound like him at all, “why don’t we just–”

“Did they not commend you?” I pressed. Obi-Wan motioned for me to take his hand and stand. “I won’t move until you give me an answer.”

“They didn’t.” No longer waiting, he took my hands and pulled. 

I allowed him to bring me to my feeble feet, even as the blood started to drain from my face due to the exertion. “Why didn’t they?” I faced him, leaving a hand on the wall for balance. “Do they…” I swallowed hard. “Do they care so little about me that your mission means nothing to them?”

Obi-Wan coughed even though his throat sounded clear. “It would…mean something.”

“What do you mean ‘it would’?” I narrowed my eyes. “What aren’t you telling me?”

He sighed, rubbing his temple with his thumb in a strange and unconfident gesture. “I wasn’t commended because it wasn’t a mission.”

Now the blood drained from my face for a different reason. “What are you talking about? What do you mean it wasn’t a mission?”

“Please, Y/N.” He tried to reach out for my arms, but I pulled away, swaying a bit. 

“But why would they have sent you if it wasn’t a mission? You wouldn’t have come if–” I stopped. “Obi-Wan…did…did the council not send you at all?”

He let out a long breath. “I asked them to.”

There’s only one response they must’ve given, but I still had to ask. “And they refused?”

Obi-Wan didn’t answer, turning his face away from me. But shame radiated through his signature, and it wasn’t a shame directed inwards. 

“They…they left me to…die?” I stammered, a second wave of something hitting me so hard, the world started to sway. 

That’s why they sent my padawan away. Not because they had no confidence in Obi-Wan, but because they never expected for me to be rescued. Obi-Wan had come to rescue me despite their inaction. 

But if Obi-Wan was part of the council, how could he cross them? To cross them…was to cross himself. He undermined his own authority by disobeying the council. Was the council angry? Is that why Masters Windu and Fisto didn’t acknowledge either of us? But then why would Master Fisto feel something similar to regret? Had they punished Obi-Wan? 

It was getting harder and harder to breathe.

I didn’t realize Obi-Wan was steadying me until he tightened his grip on my shoulder. “Are you alright?” His concern, which would normally have felt so comforting, was now worrying. Why did he seem so much more distressed by my health than the council?

The floor seemed to swirl under my feet as I shrugged out of his grasp. “What did they say to you?” I demanded. “What did they do?”

His answer was too quick. “Nothing.”

“There’s no way they’d allow you to just defy them, especially to rescue me. So tell me. What did they do?”

“Vokara Che will be wondering–”

“Tell me!” I shouted at him.

The light of Obi-Wan’s signature grew stronger as we stared at one another, becoming increasingly resolute the longer he looked at me. “They stripped me of my status as master.”

How could he lie about such a thing with such a straight face? It was unfathomable! No, if he were no longer a master, that would mean he was no longer on the council, and the very idea was a joke. I leaned into the Force, trying to parse through what he’d told me, to puncture the lie. 

But instead of sharpening, the Force softened, cradling me as if to comfort me. 

“No,” I blurted. I shook my head, causing my head to spin faster. “It’s not possible.”

Instead of answering, Obi-Wan just looked at me. He didn’t argue with me or try again to get me to the temple infirmary. In his silence, the truth had nowhere to hide and became apparent at last. 

“H-how are you simply okay with this?!” I cried. “They just stripped you of your position on the council, and you’re not even the least bit concerned that–” I broke off. The words I spoke seemed to wound me more than they wounded him, almost as if…as if he wasn’t surprised. “By the void,” I said faintly. “You knew they were going to do that to you.”

Obi-Wan’s sigh seemed to come from the depths of the Force. “I didn’t know completely…but I suspected.”

Something in me flared, rearing its ugly head as it was reborn from long ago: the anger I thought I’d put to rest. Staring at the unruffled Obi-Wan Kenobi, now Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi instead of Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, I couldn’t contain it. “That’s why you tried to keep me from going before the council, isn’t it?!”

“Y/N,” he said sharply, “I was concerned only with your health.”

“No, no, you were trying to keep your secret from me!” I lifted a tingling hand to my head. If only everything could stop spinning!

Now Obi-Wan finally looked distressed. “Please, Y/N, don’t do this now. You’re too weak.” 

I looked up at him, dazed but focused on his steady, blue eyes. “Why…why would you…” I stumbled, struggling to regain my senses long enough to put my racing thoughts in order.

The world spun faster for a moment as a strong arm looped around my legs, knocking me off balance. I felt as if I’d been thrown into the air, until my head fell against a chest. A beard brushed against my forehead, and the comforting smell of Obi-Wan enveloped me. 

“Why would you?” I managed to whisper as my eyes fell shut. “Why would you do that?”

“Shhhhh. You need rest.”

My anxiety, though fuzzy at the edges, did not lessen. How could I rest, knowing Obi-Wan defied the council and lost his position in it? But as I should’ve expected, the answer to my plight for rest was Obi-Wan himself, his strides lulling my tired mind back into sleep.

-

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