Oh, it was a scene for the stars, wasn't it? The galaxy could pause for a moment to marvel at the reunion. With a sunbeam of a smile, you greeted Anakin and Obi-Wan, pulling them into warm, heartfelt embraces that made the entire Jedi Temple feel just a bit lighter. Even the ever-stoic Commander Fox couldn't entirely mask the flicker of relief in his sharp gaze. Though he maintained the upright, unyielding posture of a Coruscant Guard Commander, there was an unmissable crack in his armor. A spark of happiness. Relief. You were here. Alive.

As he escorted you to your chamber, his strides were purposeful, though his eyes betrayed him, darting your way every so often as if he feared you'd vanish like some ethereal mirage. When the heavy door finally closed behind you, and the guards were dismissed with a subtle nod, the transformation was instant. The commander, the paragon of control and discipline, melted. Like a dam bursting, he pulled you into his arms, holding you as though letting go was not an option.

His breath was warm against your skin, and his voice—a low, gravelly timbre laced with vulnerability—murmured against your neck. "You need to stop scaring us like this," he rasped, his tone a mixture of scolding and desperate relief. "We thought you were dead."

Your chuckle was soft, a tender melody that filled the space between you. "Oh, Fox," you sighed, your fingers threading through his short, dark hair with the same reverence one might handle a fragile artifact. "I know. I truly do. And it means the world to me that you care."

Gently, you pulled back just enough to catch his gaze, your hands finding their place on his broad shoulders. His crimson armor felt cool under your fingertips, but his eyes burned with emotion. "There were things I had to take care of," you began, your voice steady but touched with a vulnerability of your own. "In another world. Things only I could face."

Fox's brow furrowed, his jaw tightening, but he didn't interrupt. You traced the line of his cheek, a silent reassurance, your thumb brushing his skin with the softness of a whisper.

"And," you hesitated, drawing a deep, steadying breath, "I was... overwhelmed. That's all." A flicker of something unspoken passed between you, raw and real. "But I'm back now," you said, your voice carrying the weight of a promise.

For a moment, the two of you lingered there, suspended in the gravity of each other's presence. The galaxy outside could wait. Here, in this room, the only thing that mattered was the unspoken vow in Fox's eyes and the quiet strength of your return.

You stepped back fully, the moment stretching like the final notes of a bittersweet symphony. Fox's hands hovered in the air for a heartbeat, as though the absence of your warmth left him untethered. But, ever the composed Commander, he swiftly collected himself, his expression smoothing into that stoic mask you'd come to recognize.

"Yes, Chancellor," he said, his voice steady but with an undertone of something softer, something unspoken. "Do as you must. Rest now, please. You have an important meeting tomorrow to declare what you saw in the other world." His crimson-plated head dipped in a respectful nod. "Goodnight."

And with that, he turned on his heel, leaving the room with measured strides, the door sealing shut behind him. You stood there for a moment, a gentle smile playing on your lips, as the faint echo of his footsteps faded into silence.

As you began to undress, the weight of the galaxy seemed to shift ever so slightly. The thick fabric of your robes fell away, and with it, a fraction of the tension in your shoulders. Fox was a truly kind man—his strength tempered by an unwavering loyalty that could soften even the harshest moments. And Obi-Wan and Anakin? Their friendship was as constant as the twin suns of Tatooine. It felt good to be back in your own world, amidst familiar faces and responsibilities.

Yet, as your fingers brushed against the hem of your tunic, your mind wandered. The Avengers. The memory of their camaraderie, their relentless humor, their boundless courage—it lingered like the aftertaste of a sweet wine. You missed them, their larger-than-life personalities clashing and complementing in equal measure. Stark's sharp wit, Natasha's quiet strength, even Banner's cautious brilliance. And, of course, there was Dr. Strange, whose arcane talents had been your bridge between worlds.

But hopping between dimensions wasn't a convenience store errand, and you knew better than to abuse the good Doctor's generosity. "I need to learn to do this myself," you murmured to the quiet room, your reflection in the mirror nodding back in agreement. "Without the entire galaxy crashing down on my shoulders, of course."

You let out a soft laugh, a sound that felt light—unexpectedly so—given everything you had endured. For now, though, you would stay. This world, with its trials and triumphs, was your home. And tomorrow? Tomorrow would bring its own storm. But tonight, for the first time in what felt like an eternity, you allowed yourself to simply be.

◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥

Morning arrived on pale, fiery wings, the sunlight spilling through the window like molten gold and setting the room aglow. But the warmth of the dawn did little to soothe the chill in your chest as you jolted awake, breath hitching. The remnants of the nightmare still clung to you, a vivid tapestry of chaos and despair. Thanos had returned in that dark vision, his massive hand ripping through the fragile fabric of Earth as if it were no more than paper. The Avengers' world—your other world—had been left in tatters.

You pressed a hand to your forehead, willing the images to fade, but they lingered like the ghost of a bad song, playing on a loop in your mind. Gratitude and burden wrestled within you, two opposing forces locked in a constant dance. You were grateful for the role you played, for the power that hummed in your veins. The Force—a gift and a weight—was a part of you. But unlike the Jedi, you couldn't surrender yourself to its tides entirely. To do so would mean losing yourself, and that was a line you wouldn't cross. You needed to stay grounded, anchored, human.

With a deep breath, you pushed yourself out of bed. The cool floor met your feet, a quiet reminder that the galaxy hadn't ended, not yet. You slipped into the formal robes of your station, their flowing fabric a familiar comfort. As you tied the sash with steady hands, a gentle knock came at the door.

"Chancellor," came Jui's melodic voice, followed closely by the sound of the door sliding open. She and Nobabra entered, their movements practiced and precise, like the shifting of planets in orbit. Jui carried an ornate press, already heating to smooth out the inevitable creases in your robes. Nobabra followed with a collection of brushes, combs, and delicate pins to tame your hair into something befitting your title.

"Good morning, Chancellor," Nobabra said with a slight bow, her voice soft but efficient. "Did you sleep well?"

You hesitated, the ghost of your nightmare flickering in your mind, but you managed a small, composed smile. "Well enough," you replied, though the words felt thin. "Thank you both."

They busied themselves with their tasks, Jui deftly pressing your robes until they were immaculate, while Nobabra worked her magic on your hair, her skilled fingers weaving and pinning with ease. Their quiet efficiency was a balm, grounding you as the sun climbed higher in the sky.

The day ahead loomed large in your mind. Meetings, declarations, decisions—each one a thread in the intricate tapestry of your life. But for now, in this small moment, you allowed yourself to simply prepare, letting the rhythmic ministrations of your maidens guide you back to the present.