The final part of Anakin and Dormè's story. I really hope I did it justice🤍😅

┊ ┊⋆ ┊ .

The HoloNet officially dubbed the Jedi as the Hero With No Fear.

All across the planets he traversed with his 501st Legion alongside his Padawan he viewed and squabbled with like a sibling. She'd witnessed this in his body language. The snarky Togruta Dormè grew a fondness for, as she became intimately familiar with details of the Chosen One.

A few of his troopers Dormè became accustomed to by actual name. The General himself viewed the clone troopers as men rather than servile machinations solely bred for war. He'd talked of their personalities, traits that set them apart and physical manipulations done to their appearance to differentiate themselves.

Yet Anakin Skywalker, their warfaring General, lost many of his men in the heat of battle. He'd believed the bloodshed left upon his hands permanently stained, charred the corners of his soul, and irrevocably darkened the shadows dusted under his eyes.

The moment her holo projection activated, and his life-sized form appeared before her, Dormè felt her breath hitch, the intensity of his presence filling the room despite the distance between them. She had adjusted her nightly routines, silently waiting for these moments when he would reach out, his guard slipping just enough to reveal the raw pain beneath.

In the dim glow of the hologram, his eyes held a haunting agony, each flicker of vulnerability amplified by the life-sized projection. She could see the subtle tremor in his shoulders, the exhaustion etched into his face. These were moments she felt he would never allow anyone else to witness—moments that stripped him of his usual composure and exposed the depths of his inner turmoil. And as she reached out instinctively, her hand passing through the air where his form hovered, she realized just how deeply these calls had allowed her to see beyond the man she thought she knew.

Because he let her.

He vowed his past mistakes would not cast their shadows over this new relationship that had begun to blossom between them. As the months passed and the threads of their lives became ever more intertwined—caught between the ravages of war and those fleeting, precious moments of solitude when a tenuous breath could finally be taken—

It was in those stolen moments that Dormè began her descent, falling for the infamous Anakin Skywalker.

  She discovered it upon the first soft smile—felt in ages—that touched her lips after a particularly grueling hearing in the Senate. A blush would flush her skin, recalling the flattery Anakin was more than adept at delivering. The tumultuous web of thoughts that would pervade while aiding her Lady on a mission to a Separatist planet. The subtle gnaw of her lip in the midst of formal dinners with various diplomats and oligarchs—reminiscing on the azure of those soulful eyes. The honed muscle visible beneath the tunics he donned in his sleeper chamber aboard the Resolute.

It was no secret the Jedi was strikingly handsome. Holo billboards loved to exploit him as their poster boy of a war hero.

She herself had been attracted but knew her boundaries. Of course, as the months passed, those boundaries blurred to the point of becoming nearly indistinguishable. Eventually, the time came to confess to Padmé before the guilt could swallow her whole. She felt as though she'd somehow transgressed an unspoken girl code. So she came clean.

However, Padmé surpassed all expectations on the evening Dormè's confession took place. She listened quietly, her expression thoughtful and considerate, before offering sincere advice—a forewarning about the strict codes the Jedi adhered to. She understood, all too well, the very hindrance that had once caused strife in her own relationship with Anakin. Her only request was simple: to keep their affections discreet, away from the public eye, for the sake of both their safety and peace.

They had a reputation to uphold with eyes always upon them. Padmè was still a Senator. She was her head handmaiden: the Padmè Amidalas closest confidante and decoy, both in the public and behind closed doors.

It was exactly eleven months to the day when Dormè received the news of General Skywalker's homecoming. Officially, the Jedi was grounded for several rotations as his squadron took time to recuperate. Padmé herself had delivered the news, a small, knowing smile gracing her lips and the subtlest nod in Dormè's direction. The message came only after Chancellor Palpatine had dismissed the Loyalist Committee meeting, on which Padmé served as a board member.

After, she gave Dormè the rest of the evening off while she spent hers with a cousin of Senator Bail Antilles' of Alderaan. As a result of dwindling food sources amid conflict in need of resolutions, the two had met on she and Padmè's last diplomatic excursion.

Since receiving word of Skywalker's homecoming, Dormè had been a bundle of nerves, the knot in her stomach refusing to ease. Even now, as she paced the secluded veranda in a branched-off wing of the senatorial apartment at 500 Republica, the tension lingered. Though smaller than Padmé's balcony and inaccessible for docking, this spot was Dormè's refuge—a place where she could collect her thoughts. Sometimes, she found clarity by sketching her next fashion designs on her holopad, letting the flow of creativity calm her restless mind.

  But tonight wasn't one of those times.

She bit the edge of her thumb, glancing at the holopad she'd since given up trying to distract herself with. Did she look overly dressed? Did she look normal?

  I can't think or focus. This is ridiculous we holo each other. It's not like we're estranged.

They knew each others favored colors. What made them tick. Her struggles of being a perfectionist and his mercurial temperament. The lives they constantly gave over for the common good.

  She had even sent a hologram to her family recently, explaining that she had met someone—someone she hoped to bring home someday to introduce. Dormè had never brought anyone home before, not even Captain Typho or any of the suitors who had shown interest during her time at the Academy. This was different, and the weight of that realization made her heart beat a little faster.

This isn't like me. I don't get nervous. I am a calm and carefully collected woman.

Anakin once said she'd become his anchor in the fires of chaos.

Her Pa had always said it was the specialty of the Odeniêl women—they were the calm in the eye of the storm, a soothing balm gifted through their touch and words. It was what had drawn him to her mother many years ago, and it was the very trait Dormè had inherited. She could still vividly recall his words, spoken long ago in a field beneath a sea of stars: "These very gifts are reflected in your name, my Dorra Aviana Odeniêl. Never forget, what resonates in your true name is a reflection of your spirit..."

"Love you Pa." She whispered the sincerity of her words within the winds, her eyes surveying the skylanes teeming with the incessant flow of traffic in the Republic's heart of Coruscant. The reflective lights refracted off the metallic glare of the planets orbital mirrors.

  Daylight had receded, unveiling the obsidian abyss of the galaxy laced with billions of stars above the stalagmite buildings. Far above the mountains nestled in the belly of the underground, reminding her it was the elite that were given the purest air. Positioned in the highest altitudes of society while those in the lower dwellings were subjected to toxic wastes.

Anakin really doesn't care for the governmental affluence. They hardly pay attention to those subjected to the toxic fumes in the lower dwellings...

"Get your head together, Dormè." She shook her head, the silvery reflection off the lights refracting off the sleeves that draped from her elbows. The sheer fabric of the dress floated behind her light as gossamer. She's kept her hair simple, half pinned loosely back, the waves cascading down her backside held by thin silver chains. The visible skin was little more risqué than her usual attire.

The design had been meticulously crafted in her mind, and the execution had turned out impeccably well. Yet as she waited, her thoughts drifted, tension mounting with each passing minute. "Oh, please let him have made it safely," she whispered, wringing her hands as her nerves unraveled further, leaving her feeling frazzled—a state so unfamiliar it felt almost foreign. No word had been transmitted as to when his company would land. She let out a shaky breath, muttering, "Force, is this what that Jedi has reduced me to?"

"You really embody the starlight. Just... look at you."

Dormè felt her very breath catch. She could decipher that voice even in the blinding darkness. Slowly, she turned towards said Jedi that walked onto the veranda, each purposeful step imbued with a sense of dominance. Even if the world had burned down before him, she hardly believed he'd notice for the riveted gaze in which he looked upon her. No longer a sliver of hesitance in those dark eyes that shone with a radiance akin to the skies above.

  "Security let me in. I took the lift up here," Anakin said, his voice low as he stepped into view.

She found herself rooted to the spot, the world around them dissolving, leaving only him—the man who had haunted her thoughts for eleven long months. Every carefully rehearsed conversation vanished, slipping away like smoke as her heart hammered in her chest. She was swept under by the intensity in his gaze, the raw emotion crossing his face. His cheekbones, now sharpened by war and sleepless nights, carved out a face that had matured far beyond the young boy she'd once known. The softness of adolescence had given way to a rugged masculinity, his frame broader, his stance carrying the weight of battles fought and burdens carried. He was no longer the impulsive boy she'd met on Naboo—he had grown into something formidable, powerful, and unyielding.

Anakin's eyes drank her in, dark and intense, filled with a hunger that he didn't attempt to hide. His breath hitched, and without a word, he crossed the space between them in a single, purposeful stride. She could feel the heat radiating off him, his presence enveloping her, raw and unrestrained, peeling away her defenses layer by layer until she felt laid bare before him.

The contrast was so significant compared to a hologram. "Whoa..." The unfiltered words left just as swift as his lips that lifted in amusement.

"Whoa, huh?" One brow arched, those eyes glimmering with an intensity that pinned her in place, making her feel like the very center of his universe. The way he looked at her—raw, unfiltered, consuming—was unlike anything she'd ever known from another man.

A heat simmered there in his gaze, slowly catching fire. If he touched her now, she wondered briefly if she'd burn. She could feel her chest rise and fall, her breaths coming shallow, as those eyes searched hers, stripping her bare with an intensity that left her both vulnerable and exhilarated.

Whatever answer he found there, prompted him to act.

He lifted his flesh hand, and she couldn't help but notice the scars and callouses marking it, each one a testament to battles fought and the weight he carried. His fingertips brushed across her cheekbone, rough yet achingly tender, sending a shiver down her spine. "Force... how long it's been," he whispered, his voice heavy with barely contained desire. "Dreams don't do you justice."

She felt her cheeks flush at his words, warmth spreading under his gaze. "Skywalker," she breathed, her voice unsteady, though she managed to find her footing again, a teasing smile curling at the corners of her lips. "It's... it's good to see you in one piece."

He shook his head, a small smirk tugging at his lips before a deep seriousness settled over his features, honed from months spent on the front lines. His gaze held hers, raw and unwavering. "Not as good as it is to see you, Dorra Odeniêl." His voice was low, steady, laced with an intensity that made her pulse quicken. The way he said her name, with such reverence and weight, made the air between them feel electric.

Dorra not Dormè as she was so used to being addressed. She could see the depth of what this meant since he'd discovered her birth name. She felt tears prick her eyes. "Skywalker, ever ready to woo a lady."

He flashed a brilliant, confident smile that lingered only for a split second, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. "Such words for a mere handmaiden." His voice dropped, a touch of playfulness mixed with something deeper. With a casual ease that was worlds apart from their last encounter, when she had been weakened by sickness, he slid a hand behind her neck. His thumb pressed gently just beneath the hollow of her ear, his touch warm and deliberate. "You haven't seen anything yet, I assure you, m'lady."

  His words were a quiet promise, laced with a sensuality that sent a shiver through her.

"Oh, is that right, Skywalker?"

"Oh, I'm very assured in my specialties, m'lady."

Dormè looked up at him, her gaze earnest, the playful banter between them closing the distance with each exchanged word. One brow arched elegantly as she held his intense gaze, the curve of his nose almost grazing hers. "Then," she murmured, her voice barely above a regal whisper that mirrored her composure and poise, "why don't you show me?"

  Barely had she drawn her next breath before his lips abruptly descended upon hers with an intense, unrestrained fervor. The longing was so achingly raw in the force of their lips, claiming each other in a way words never could. One taut arm enveloped her waist, pulling her flush against him, fingers pressing into the bare skin of her backside, visible to the naked eye. The heat of his touch seared into her, each second of the kiss deepening with a hunger that felt primal, almost desperate, as if they were making up for every moment of restraint and distance.

Dormè felt all the nerve endings in her body ignite into flames, each one sparking to life in response to the passion he demonstrated. Her own hands clenched onto the dark robes he wore, having exchanged his Clone Wars armor for something more intimate. They slid up the curve of his neck, fingers trembling as her thumbs pressed into the angular contours of his jaw, feeling the strength there as she surrendered herself to his touch.

The cool sensation of one leather-clad hand gliding up her backside sent a jolt through her. Those skillful fingers trailed back down, lingering on the edges of her curves, drawing out a breathless gasp from her lips

"Anakin," she gasped as she broke away from the kiss, arching her back upon instinctively as those lips began to trail sensuously down the slope of her neck. They were fire and fusion, merging together in a blaze too intense for the embers to simmer.

  "How I've waited; I've thought of nothing else," he whispered, his breath warm against her skin. Dormè found herself completely undone as her feelings for him consumed her, washing over her like a tidal wave. It was as if he could see straight through to her soul, reading her with the same ease as the constellations mapped above, effortlessly deciphering the longing that had been buried deep within her.

"I can't say I haven't myself," she replied breathlessly. She remembered those nights when her feelings for him had taken on a deeper meaning, a desire stirring awake in her veins that she had been unable to quench. Lying tangled in her bedsheets, she had felt flushed and yearning, as she grappled with the intensity of her emotions.

"Your hearts beating so fast." he whispered. "Tell me you've craved this just as much I?" His teeth lightly grazed the shell of her ear, leaving shivers that evoked sparks down her spine.

She shuddered, hooded eyes meeting his heady with desire. She traced the bow of his lips with a thumb. "Have I wanted it?" She swallowed, willing to relinquish the hidden truth. "Yes."

His eyes slowly roved over her, drinking her in like a man starved. Tongue pressed against cheek as his nostrils flared, fingertips following the delicately laced chains over the blade of her shoulder and down to the inner curve of a breast. "Be with me tonight."

  It was the gravelly tone he used that made the request feel more like an inquiry.

  He desired her.

  It was evident in those smoldering eyes before he raptly picked her up, carrying her effortlessly to the plush chaise. With a quick flick of his hand, the lights instantly softened around them, casting a warm glow that wrapped them in intimacy. Dormè's body pressed against him, cushioned as he tossed one booted leg over hers

Through a ragged breath, she managed to gather her thoughts, just as a muscled hand that could wield a lightsaber as easily as she, began to trail down her delicate collarbone and over the swell of her breast. "A-aren't we being a bit reckless, Jedi Skywalker?"

What she'd meant to come out as a tease ended in a breathless moan that only spurned his ministrations.

  "Tsk, not even armed... Hm, not sure I approve after all these months..." His eyes traced the path he made, a vein in his neck protruding with the effort of restraint as the high slit of her dress revealed a smooth, muscled leg. His gaze flicked to hers, lips parting as his brow lifted in askance, a question hanging in the air between them before he slid his hand further under the sheer fabrics. "I'd say we're past negotiations, my lady."

His words dripped with a sultry confidence, making it clear that the time for hesitation was long gone. Once the guards had been let down between them newfound curiosities surfaced. Dormè disclosed the remnants of her innocence at Anakin's inquiry. While she'd experienced the touch of a man during her affairs on the cusp of adolescence, she had yet to bridge the act itself.

Rather than cockily tease her as an experienced man might, Anakin found only beauty in the purity she possessed. He was determined to assert that he would be the only man to give her such pleasure, as he had no intention of sharing her with anyone else. The thoughts he had heard whispered about the beautiful handmaiden by Padmé's side lingered in his mind, serving as a fierce reminder of the connection they shared and the depth of his desire to protect that bond.

"The dagger has ah—simply
been placed in uns-suspecting places." Dormè's hand suddenly shot to his just as the apex of her inner thigh was breached. "Wait, I'm not ready yet, Anakin. As much I want to ... it's a big step."

A slow, knowing smile graced his lips. Gold curls bleached by the suns fell over the sloped folds of a broad forehead sporting a small gash. "My lady, while I'd like nothing than to ravage you right here all night, we don't have the time." His voice remained low with desire and an undercurrent of urgency. "I have to return to the temple yet tonight."

While Dormè felt a sense of relief, there was an unmistakable disappointment that swiftly followed in the furrow of her brow. "Oh. Well, I do understand. Duty does come first."

He grinned, a hint of arrogance surfacing as he leaned in close, his breath warm against her ear. "When that time comes—and I assure you, I've already thought of this—I intend to take my time." His hand slipped down her inner thigh, squeezing gently, sending a wave of heat lancing through every sensitive nerve ending in her body. "Where no one can hear you scream my name from these lips that taste much sweeter than blossom wine."

  The playful jibe hung in the air, thick with promise, and Dormè couldn't help but laugh softly, the sound a mix of delight and anticipation the way he spoke, with such confidence and sensuality.

"Believe me, m'lady,"Anakin's voice took on a velvety tone that nearly melted her resolve at the last of his words. " I intend to savor every minute when that time comes."

  Dormè was about to deliver a snarky retort poised on the edge of her tongue— when she felt a finger glide down the center of her lace garment and lost all sense in that moment. "Anakin..." she choked with a gasp.

"Yes," he responded in a silky sensuous voice. "Just. Like. That." She could feel his sinful grin as his tongue flicked against her lips, nipping the plump edge with a carnality in his words. "Because I have to leave soon m'lady, we should first fulfill this need before I do."

A low heat unfurled in the pit of her stomach as her breaths shallowed, nails embedding into one broad shoulder as she stuttered, "I-Is that so, Skywalker...?"

"Oh yes, beautiful, I can feel that ache in desperate need of my touch..." Hot breath rolled across the nape of her neck as his finger traced along the soft flesh of her thigh, primally fixated upon every quiver her body orchestrated. "Your body sings to me and intend to take full advantage of this little quarrel once and for all..."

Damn I can't tell if there should be a part four 😆 I loved fleshing out this character that really had no backstory or thought to her name. This was a tricky balance to craft it into a believable story. Damn now I'm considering a story gaaah no stop me! 🤣

I'll gladly hear your thoughts🤍