This was challenging as it was interesting to write because Dormè was never fleshed out as a character. So I hope I brought a touch of that here. Because of the way it has to be written, there will be a part three hold tight.

Please lend me your thoughts.💜

┊ ┊⋆ ┊ .

Throwing on the light shawl she'd unceremoniously tossed on a plush chaise, she pulled the ornate handles of the door, open.

There, outlined in the pale luminescence of moonlight stood Anakin Skywalker. Eyes half shadowed from the wall sconces, he held in his gloved hands a loaf of seven blossom bread.

"As much as you've traveled, you need to eat. You're body is weak and in need of nourishment. Which you haven't been doing much lately."

Dormé assessed him, a single brow elegantly arched. "Within a mere week of your arrival, you assume my medical prognosis, Jedi Skywalker."

"Take the bread, Dormé. This isn't up for negotiations."

"I'm well versed in your version of negotiations, Jedi Skywalker. And I am not my Lady."

Those azure eyes sparked like flint, brows furrowed. "I'm well aware of your standing with Padmé, Dormé. I am no stranger to her handmaidens."

At the implied insinuation she felt her teeth clench and made a conscious effort to ease the tension in her facial expression that was wound as a coiled spring. Not only did she set the example for her standing with the Senator, but for Ellè and Motè as well.

Partaking in this senseless banter with her friends former lover, was hardly appropriate. Willing herself to relax, her shoulders eased a fraction. "While it's not of your concern— my welfare, I accept your gesture as a kindness I do not take lightly."

Palm face up she retrieved the plate from his hands, settling it on the vanity adjacent before bidding him a goodnight with a closing of the door—

Only to be stopped by the toe of a scuffed boot. It was swiftly followed by a gloved hand that forced the door open, wood connecting with leather with an audible thud.

"Jedi Skywalker," Dormè's voice rose an octave as a warning, taking up a firm stance reminiscent of her training.

"I wasn't done," he started, advancing on her in a way she should've taken a step back.

Yet she didn't, standing tall despite his towering form that nearly engulfed her in his shadow. "Jedi Skywalker you are out of line," she swallowed, tampering down a whisper of fear that crept down her spine from this blatant boldness.

Dormè was well educated in the ways of the Force with which the Jedi honed. The Clone Wars had especially educated her on this, having witnessed the discipline in their principles and the unwavering accountability they held themselves to.

Anakin Skywalker was not adhering to any such act as she'd witnessed with those on the Council. His proximity was far too close and on the fringes of improper.

"You are afraid," he stated as a matter of fact, head tilted to the side.

Dormè felt her fingers twitch at her sides as she lifted her chin, steeling her features while the gears of her mind turned. She had just pried the small knife from its thigh sheath, the metal cool against her skin—only for him to seize it from her grasp in a swift, decisive motion.

"Impressive," he remarked with flip of the blade between his forefinger and thumb, the metallic sheen glinting dangerously in the soft lamp light. He tossed it over his shoulder. "Part of your handmaiden training I presume?"

A warm breath of wind that rolled in from the mountainside, swept a curl off her shoulder. "It's called a combative diversion."

His brow puzzled in question—

She thrust her knee upward, aiming for the vulnerable gap between his ribs, a move Typho had drilled into her to knock the breath out of an opponent. If she landed it just right, she'd buy herself the precious seconds needed to escape.

But the Jedi was too quick, deflecting her strike with a practiced ease. In a flash, he had her pinned against the wall, his knee wedged between her legs, pressing close enough to force the air from her lungs. The impact sent a tickle through her throat, coaxing a raspy cough from her lips.

"W-what are you playing at, Jedi Skywalker?!" she managed, her voice edged with defiance despite the strain.

The pressure he had around her wrist lightened, concern evidentially taking pursuit as the bow of his lips pursed. Albeit, he was slow to react.  "Do you really not know?" he asked softly.

Dormè's lips parted, taken aback by this abrupt shift of moods. "N-No."

A disappointment carved its mark into those features, the angular cut of his jaw protruding as the awareness flared in his nostrils. "You really don't."

In the background, the crackle from the fireplaces hearth resounded as another layer of wood was snapped in flames. The warmth carried in the fragrant winds that gently enveloped the two.

As congestion coated the back of her throat Dormè sniffled, suddenly anxious at the shift in the atmosphere. She could practically feel a tension settle between them causing her to swallow, hard, as it only grew in intensity. Piecing together the fragments of his actions, his words, the way his gaze lingered—assembling them like a quilt, a careful stitch at a time revealed a pattern she hadn't anticipated.

As the glow from the fireplaces hearth cast those prominent features in firelight, she saw a familiar spark in those eyes reminiscent of the deep lagoons nestled in the valleys of Naboo. An emotion that transcended the hues into something more profound.

Those eyes flickered between hers searchingly as the answer surfaced in her gaze. "Now you know," he murmured, his voice barely audible, the prominence of his Adam's apple evident as he swallowed in a restrained breath. "I can sense it."

In truth, Dormè was reeling, her mind a whirlwind of questions as the lines between reality and propriety blurred beyond recognition. All this time, she had thought the Jedi's piercing gaze was merely an attempt to see through the carefully constructed mask she wore—a façade she donned as effortlessly as breathing, like slipping into a uniform at dawn's first light.

  To realize just how wrong she'd been was disconcerting for her usual quick quip as it was... baffling.

This man, for as long as she'd stood in her Lady's stead, had been utterly captivated by the woman herself. Every breath, every movement Padmé made seemed to hold him spellbound, as natural and inevitable as the rise and fall of the suns. Dormè recalled how ardently he'd been shattered when it all came to a head. She remembered gathering the shattered pieces of the vase he'd unconsciously hurled with the Force on the apartment's veranda, her own room just down the hall.

  Some part of her believed that was why Padmè had left so abruptly after Queen Jamillia's invitation. She'd seemed somewhat frazzled once news of a certain Jedi's arrival was imminent.

But how, in this brief, allotted time, had the Jedi developed dare she say an attention?

For her?

The words slipped past her lips before formality could catch it, "Why?" It unraveled her mask just as quick as her next breath. "I don't understand."

"It wasn't planned," he answered with a sigh, flexing his jaw with slight frustration. "Believe me this was completely unplanned."

"I'm not Padmè," she said vehemently, not keen with the idea that it was due to their physical likeness that could be the sole reason for his feelings. While they were in sync in the line of duty, apart the two women's personalities and tastes diverged sharply.

"I know," he responded, tucking a curl behind her ear before she could react. Yet he didn't seem apologetic for the action.

Rather encouraged.

"I've never..." Her voice faltered, trailing off as she shook her head, struggling to find the words. "While I've found you... handsome, I have never entertained the idea of anything more. I could never—"

"You've found me handsome?" Her words severed as he leaned closer angling his chin, cheekbones hollowed as his nose nearly brushed hers. "I can admit I've found you beautiful, if you can believe that. Not just physically but your spirit—"

"Anakin," She finally dropped any semblance of mannerisms left. "This is completely insane. I'm Padmè's handmaiden and confidante. Loyalty runs deep between all of us. I'd never betray that." 

"Already you address me by name rather than Jedi Skywalker." There was a hint of amusement colored his tone, pleased by the slip. "Say... I wasn't asking you to break that loyalty."

A subtle challenge glimmered within those eyes as his gaze held hers.

"What?" His words were really giving her whiplash, mentally scolding herself for the informal slip of the tongue. Jedi Skywalker, Jedi Skywalker. "What do you mean?"

"What if all I want is an answer," he murmured, his voice low and steady, "but I would wait—however long it takes—for it to be truly reciprocated?"

"But I-I don't really know you, not truly." There was an exasperation in her tone, her stomach knotted in nerves from this entire situation she'd enveloped herself in.

"What if we could get to know each other more? I'd stay in touch. We could holo."

"Are you not hearing what I'm saying?"

He nodded, his expression curt but laden with a quiet seriousness. "I am. One day, Padmé will marry and step down as a senator. When that time comes, you'd be released from your duties to her, no longer bound as a handmaiden." He paused, his gaze unwavering. "And I... I don't plan to remain in the Order forever." His words held a weight that hinted at a vision of the future he'd rarely dared to voice aloud.

"But that doesn't bother you? I remember the night you two ended the relationship."

The muscle in his jaw ticked, a reflection of regret in the bowing of his head. "I regret my actions of that night. But I've come to the realization that we weren't right for each other. It took time yes, but I've moved on." The intensity of his gaze softened as he looked at her. "And then... came you."

Combined with her sickness, the conversation left her bone deep weary. "Jedi are not allowed to form attachments, especially the Chosen One with her Lady's handmaiden. I haven't forgotten the risk you both took. Just as I don't understand where this is all coming from. We've hardly ever spoken."

"What if I told you that I always noticed you?" he murmured, his gaze unwavering. "I just... didn't see you as I do now. Not until one call changed that."

At the last of his words her ears perked up, eyes widening in disbelief as her face paled, "What did you just say?" she whispered.

"Scipio. Padmè had gone out there to negotiate with Rush Clovis on the Banking Clan. We'd just ended things two months before... I was on the Resolute headed to Lothal when I got your holo."

"Oh kriff," she cleared her throat, "you were never supposed to get that. That was completely inappropriate on my part."

"It showed me you cared," he continued, a faint, almost teasing smile tugging at his lips. "Even though you sounded a little drunk."

  Dormè squeezed her eyes shut, "I'd had far too much blossom wine with Ellè that night, before Padmè told me she was moving on. We knew about you two. I just wanted to make sure you were okay, given you were out in a warzone."

  "I know... and it stayed with me." He edged closer, the shadows deepening around the weathered lines etched into his face, carved by the rigors of war. Pain flickered in his eyes, framed by the dark curls that had grown unruly with time. "In my darkest hours, losing countless men... almost losing Ahsoka..." His voice faltered for a moment, a vulnerability surfacing that he rarely let show. "I would replay that message, over and over. Just knowing someone out there cared enough to reach out... It nearly cost a man his life under my hand because of it."

Dormè felt her breath catch. So his recklessness had evidentially cost him. "That's why you're here... isn't it?"

Anakin nodded, his fingers finally loosening from hers against the wall, assured she wouldn't bolt. "He threatened to bomb the Senate which I knew you were in attendance. This war... has affected all of us in different ways. I know it's not the way of the Jedi. But I can't say I regret it—not if it led me here, to this moment with you, after all those months of listening to a recorded hologram."

Dormè flexed her fingers that had been clenched in his grip, licking her lips with a sudden case of dry mouth. "You're not wrong. I've seen the ugliness it's taken... but this is a lot to process, Anakin. All of it."

Anakin nodded, his gaze earnest as it held hers. Slowly, he lifted his flesh hand, and Dormè's eyes were drawn to the gentle, almost reverent motion as he adjusted the strap of her nightgown that had slipped down her shoulder. "I know," he murmured, his focus lingering on the delicate fabric against her skin before he took a measured step back, swallowing hard.

  His eyes met hers one final time, filled with an intensity she had never been the recipient of before. "And I'll wait," he promised, his voice steady but laced with raw emotion, "however long it takes."

A slow heat unfurled in her stomach, flushing her skin, and blossoming across her face. She found herself unable to deny how his words penetrated the mental safeguards she placed for any man that looked upon her. Gregor Typho had once expressed an interest, which she'd been quick to shut down, knowing there was too much happening to make a conscious effort for a relationship.

  Yet, she couldn't deny how Anakin's way with words touched her on a level that surpassed her usual rejections. His sincerity broke through her well-constructed walls, reaching places she'd long kept guarded.

  Is this how Padmè fell for him?

Instead of uniformed words waiting to be delivered as a poised refute on the edge of her tongue, she found herself nodding before realizing she was relinquishing control.

  For once in her life.

"Just... give me some time to think on this... Anakin."

Anakin said nothing further. It was conveyed in his eyes alone what this meant to him. With a reverent nod he retrieved her plate, setting it carefully on the edge of her bed. Then, without another word, he swiftly swept out of the room, dark cloak billowing behind him leaving an unmistakable presence in his wake.

Dormè watched him go until the door closed softly behind.

For once, she was completely at a loss as to what had just sparked between them.

She had a distinct suspicion the stubborn Jedi would stay true to his words. And just as surely, she felt this was anything but the end of her internal quarrel.

TO BE CONTINUED