Lyra woke up feeling a bit better than she had in days, the tension in her chest loosening just a little as the morning light filtered into her room. She stretched, letting out a sigh and managed a small smile. Maybe, just maybe, Anakin and Obi-Wan had finally stopped searching for her. The thought brought her a tentative sense of relief. She hoped it was true; she didn't want to imagine them tearing through every place she might hide, leaving a path of destruction in their wake.

Her gaze drifted to the window, where the city stretched out below in peaceful silence, completely unaware of the shadow she'd been carrying, the threat she'd been trying to outrun. For the first time in a while, she felt almost safe. But the thought lingered in her mind, refusing to be silenced: if they hadn't stopped, if they were still coming for her, she knew what they were capable of. If Anakin and Obi-Wan were willing to go to any lengths to bring her back, no one in this tower would be safe.

Lyra shivered, shaking the thought away. She couldn't bear to see Steve, Bucky, and the others caught in the crossfire of a battle they didn't ask for. Her life was her own, her choices hers to make. She only hoped Anakin and Obi-Wan would finally accept that, before the darkness in them consumed everything in its path.

She stood up, feeling a bit more steady, and got dressed for the day. There hadn't been any alerts, no signs or warnings that the Avengers had been called to anything urgent, so she figured she could afford to go casual. She pulled on a simple outfit—a comfortable shirt, dark jeans, and her favorite worn denim jacket.

As she looked at herself in the mirror, adjusting the collar of her jacket, she felt almost like her old self. It was a small thing, but after days of tension and fear, the normalcy of it soothed her. Today, she would try to let herself breathe, even if just for a few hours.

Glancing once more around her quiet room, she gathered her thoughts and headed out, hoping she could make it through the day without any reminders of the darkness she was running from.

When Lyra made her way down to the common room, she was surprised to see Tony talking with Loki. The two of them stood side by side, deep in conversation. There was no trace of tension between them, no hint of the rivalry and mistrust that had once defined their relationship. The sight calmed her nerves, a reminder that maybe peace was possible, even between former enemies.

As she looked around, Steve approached, handing her a steaming cup of coffee. "Hey there, Sleeping Beauty," he said with a teasing smile. "Did you get a good night's sleep?" His blue eyes held hers, clear and steady, a warmth in his gaze that made her cheeks flush.

Lyra managed a small, shy smile, feeling the faintest hint of color rise in her face under his intense look. "Yes, just fine, Captain," she replied, voice softer than she intended.

Steve's smile broadened, a hint of amusement in his expression as he watched her. He gave her a slight nod, as if satisfied to know she'd rested. Taking a sip of the coffee, Lyra felt a surge of warmth, grateful for this moment of normalcy. With Tony and Loki's calm conversation in the background, and Steve's reassuring presence beside her, she allowed herself to relax, if only for a moment.

Lyra felt familiar, strong arms wrap around her from behind, pulling her into a warm embrace. She didn't even need to turn around to know it was Bucky—the scent of leather and that distinct presence of his told her everything she needed. His embrace felt like a shield, grounding her in the present, and she let herself sink into it, a soft smile playing on her lips.

"Hey there, princess," he murmured near her ear, his tone low and gentle. "You doin' okay?" His voice held that hint of concern that he rarely showed to anyone but her, the gruffness softening into something almost tender.

She leaned back against him, letting herself feel the quiet comfort he offered. "Yeah," she replied, glancing up at him with a smile. "I'm fine, Bucky. Just... needed a morning like this."

Bucky's grip tightened a bit, his fingers resting protectively on her shoulders as if to keep her safe from everything lingering in her past. "Good," he said softly, brushing a strand of hair back from her face. "I'm here if you need anything."

In this moment, surrounded by Steve and Bucky, with Tony and Loki in the background, Lyra felt safe. Whatever might come, she knew she had her own small army right here, a family ready to stand by her side.

The next moment, the rest of the team started filtering in, bringing a fresh burst of energy into the common room. Natasha made a beeline for the training room, casting a quick look over her shoulder, her red hair bouncing as she moved. "Come and join me, Lyra," she called out with a grin. "It'll do you good."

Lyra smiled, untangling herself from Bucky's arms and giving him a playful nudge. "Guess I'm being summoned," she said, earning a knowing smirk from Bucky as he watched her follow Natasha down the hall.

The training room was simple and practical, outfitted with everything they'd need to stay in top form. A training rack stood in the center, loaded with various weights and gear, while thick stretching mats covered parts of the floor. In one corner, there were a few larger mats arranged for sparring and wrestling, a space well-worn from countless practice rounds.

Natasha stood near the center, rolling her shoulders and loosening up, her expression calm but focused. She gestured for Lyra to join her on the mat. "Alright, let's see what you've got," Natasha said with a smirk, her eyes gleaming. "Start with some warm-ups?"

Lyra laughed, nodding as she stepped onto the mat, already feeling a bit of her earlier tension fading. "Just don't go easy on me," she teased, getting into position. With Natasha around, she knew this training session would be just the thing to clear her mind and shake off the lingering shadows.

That was when Natasha made the first move, a right hook aimed at Lyra's head. Lyra reacted swiftly, bringing her forearm up to block the strike, absorbing the impact. With a fluid twist, she pivoted, catching Natasha off balance, and skillfully maneuvered the assassin's arm behind her back, pinning her down on one knee. Leaning in close, she grinned as she held Natasha steady, her breath warm against Natasha's ear.

"Quick for a mortal," Natasha teased, her voice light despite being trapped in Lyra's hold.

Lyra smirked, the thrill of the move and the playful challenge in Natasha's tone igniting her competitive side. "You taught me well," she replied, releasing her grip just enough to let Natasha regain her footing.

But Lyra knew better than to let her guard down—Natasha would counter soon enough. Sure enough, the assassin's eyes glinted, a hint of mischief sparking in her expression, and Lyra braced herself, ready for whatever the former spy would throw at her next.

Nathsa's smile lingered as she twisted her body, wriggling free from her opponent's grasp with a fluid motion. Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "You're quick too, Princess," she teased, her voice a mix of respect and playful challenge.

Lira grinned back, her expression full of quiet confidence. Without a word, she beckoned Nathsa forward, signaling that the fight was far from over. The two women circled each other, their movements a blur of speed and skill as they sparred through the afternoon, the sounds of their combat filling the air with intensity.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of clashing, they both stood panting, sweat trickling down their faces. Lira wiped her brow and, with a wry smile, said, "You're quick. I'll give you that. Guess that's why they call you the Widow."

Nathsa's lips curled into a grin. She grabbed the bottle they'd brought with them, taking a long drink. "Why didn't you use the Force on me?" she asked, her voice still teasing, but curious. "You could've easily won."

Lira shook her head, her expression serious. "I don't use the Force unless I want to kill," she said softly, her gaze fixed on the horizon as if lost in thought. "It's not a game."

Nathsa gave a short laugh, admiration in her eyes. "I knew you were different."

Lira smiled softly, a hint of something deeper in her expression. "I have to be... my predecessor was a tyrant. I don't intend to be like that." Her voice was calm, but there was a quiet strength behind the words, as if they held the weight of many experiences. She glanced at Nathsa, her eyes reflecting a mix of resolve and something more personal, perhaps even regret.

Nathsa studied her for a moment, sensing the gravity of the statement. "I get it," she replied, her tone softer than before. "No one wants to repeat the past.

As the golden glow of the setting sun filtered through the window, casting a warm light across the room, Natasha approached Lira with a towel in hand. The soft fabric was a welcome comfort after a long day, and Natasha's eyes twinkled with a hint of playful camaraderie.

"Here, dry yourself off a bit," she said, her voice a soothing blend of kindness and encouragement. "Once you've refreshed, let's head downstairs. Steve's been busy in the kitchen, and I'm confident he's crafted something delicious that'll lift our spirits."

Lira accepted the towel with a grateful nod, feeling the plush texture against her skin. The promise of a shared meal and laughter seemed like a perfect ending to the day. The air was filled with the tantalizing aroma of spices and cooked dishes as it wafted up from below, hinting at the gathering warmth and companionship that awaited them.

Lira reached up to release her dark hair from its tidy bun, allowing it to cascade freely down her shoulders like a waterfall of midnight silk. She savored one last sip of water, feeling its refreshing clarity invigorate her senses, and then she set the glass down with a soft clink.

With a reassuring smile that radiated warmth, she glanced back at Natasha. "I'll go and change, too," she said, her voice carrying a light-hearted resolve. Lira was eager to shed the day's weariness along with her current attire, embracing a more comfortable elegance for their evening gathering.

As she turned towards the door, ready to transform both her attire and her mindset, the promise of a cozy dinner with friends added a buoyant spring to her step.

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The gentle patter of water echoed throughout the tower's spacious shower room, enveloping Lira in a soothing cocoon of steam and tranquility. As the warm water cascaded down, it melted away the day's tensions, each droplet a blissful note in the chorus of relaxation. Her mind wandered momentarily, savoring the respite from her responsibilities.

When she finished, Lira stepped out into the plush warmth of the tower's bathroom. The soft, plush towel wrapped around her was a comforting embrace, absorbing the last traces of moisture from her skin. She took a moment to admire the room's large, elegant mirror, watching as the steam ghosted across its surface.

With practiced ease, Lira reached for the hairdryer. The gentle hum filled the room, and she directed the warm breeze through her damp hair, transforming it into a cascade of silken strands. The heat felt soothing against her scalp, a touch of warmth still resonating from her recent shower.

Once her hair was dry and shining, she turned to the closet. Her fingers traced the fabric of a dress she scarcely ever wore—a flowery ensemble that whispered of carefree afternoons and sunlight. It was a dress she wouldn't have chosen for the temple or the senate gatherings—too carefree, too bold, perhaps, for those sterile halls—but here, within the sanctuary of friends, it felt like a rebellious embrace of her own identity.

With a smile, Lira slipped into the dress, the fabric whispering against her skin, and felt a brief thrill at its lightness and promise of potential. Tonight was not about duties or titles; it was a chance to be genuinely and utterly herself.

As Lira descended the grand staircase, she was immediately enveloped by the lively ambiance of the dining room. Tony was already comfortably docked at the table, immersed in conversation, while Steve and Bucky graciously carried plates filled with an array of vibrant, mouth-watering dishes. The room buzzed with the tantalizing scents of a feast prepared with care and camaraderie.

Just as Lira was about to find her seat, a familiar presence caught her attention. Loki, ever the inquisitive trickster, materialized near the shadows, his curiosity piqued by the gathering. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he approached with the silent grace of a cat.

In one fluid motion, his lithe form wrapped around her waist, playfully pulling her towards him. Lira felt the warmth of his touch and the subtle shift in the energy of the room. "Quite the array of mortals, aren't they?" he teased, his voice a velvet murmur in her ear.

His words danced with the playful mockery only Loki could deliver, making Lira chuckle despite herself. His presence added an unexpected twist to the evening—one that promised a blend of mischief and entertainment.

"Sure they are," Lira replied, her voice a playful dance of sarcasm and admiration. She gave Loki a sideways glance, a teasing smile playing on her lips. In response, Loki bestowed a warm, roguish grin as he leaned in to place a gentle kiss on her temple, a tender gesture that spoke of lingering affection amidst the teasing.

"I helped too, you know," he continued, his tone mockingly modest, though his eyes twinkled with mischief. "But mostly, it was the man of the shield and that hardy little puppet who conjured all this culinary magic," he said, gesturing grandly towards the spread of food.

His words were punctuated by his signature wit, leaving Lira with a sense of comfort and joy in the company of friends who felt like family.

As Lira entered the dining room, she was met by the welcoming beams of Steve and Bucky, their expressions brightening the room even further. "Ah, Lira, you came! Good, sit down," Steve encouraged, his voice warm and inviting.

With a playful sidestep away from Loki's presence, Lira made her way to the table, choosing a seat at the head, a position that felt surprisingly natural. As she settled in, so did the rest of the group, each taking their places around the table.

The atmosphere was charged with a sense of camaraderie and ease, as plates were filled and conversations flowed. They talked and laughed, shared stories and dreams, weaving a tapestry of fellowship that made Lira's heart swell with a profound sense of belonging.

Here, amid the gentle hum of voices and the clinking of cutlery, Lira felt truly at home. This was a sanctuary she wished she could stay in forever. Yet, she was ever mindful of the responsibilities awaiting her back with Obi-Wan and Anakin—duties that wouldn't let her go easily. While her heart danced with joy in this moment, she knew she would eventually have to return to her other world. But for now, she basked in the joy of the present, savoring every precious second.