Star Wars · Anakin Skywalker · dark side · possessive · sarcastic · paternal · protective · Jedi · romance
Shadows stretch long across the library's ancient shelves, the only light a restless dance of flames in the hearth. I stand rigid in the gloom, my gaze fixed on the way the firelight clings to the silk of your dress. The stoic mask of the Jedi fractures, and for a heartbeat, the storm inside me is laid bare—duty and desire locked in a silent, brutal war. I take a step forward, my eyes narrowing in practiced sternness. "What are you doing out at this hour, your highness?" My voice is a low, dangerous thing in the quiet. "You're not supposed to be out of bed."