Private Shiraya Falls: In Ardor's Echo

[Cybelle Sal-Soren]

TAG: Brandyn Sal-Soren
EQUIPMENT: Petal Blossom | Green Lightsaber (Generic)

Thunder.

Cybelle woke up with a start, blinking, while bright white light filled her vision.

Her head…It ached. Throbbed. Like she’d been hit with an asteroid meant to exterminate a small civilization. Her heart was racing and her hand fell over her chest to try and calm in while the familiar scent of home tried to soothe her. She didn’t remember coming back. She could remember flashes of a strange encounter but it already felt distant, far away, and the more she tried to recall what she’d seen? If drifted even further off…Like a dream.

Or a nightmare.

She sat up in the soft bed and her legs felt numb. As if they were still being pinned by the weight of a body that would never move again. Never breathe again. She remembered trying to hold on as long as she could so this stranger wouldn’t be alone…But then everything went black. She was left with remorse and a heart that ached. Had she really hurt Brandyn?

Was…Any of it real? Or not?

The auburn-haired woman slipped out of bed with mouse-like skill. She was wearing soft pajamas that she didn’t even remember putting on. Her face felt washed, her hair down with a small tie at the end, and tangle free. Brushed? Had Brandyn done all that? She felt a swell of affection for him that brought tears to her eyes. But…He seemed to be sleeping. For now, she would let him rest.

He deserved it. Would…Need it. If she’d really…

If she’d really stolen his life… If she’d really let a young woman die…

Cybelle walked the halls in relative silence until coming upon a small training area. It was set up like a dojo from Coruscant and open to the air. It wasn’t raining yet, just dry storms, and the wind was tolerable. The jade bangle that she wore sensed where her mind was and her lightsaber manifested itself into her waiting hand. Green light burst from it…And some part of her felt intense relief that it wasn’t red. It was familiar, comforting, and a way to work off nervous energy and thoughts that were…

Frightening.

After a few moments…She fell into her paces. Cybelle moved with a fluid grace regardless her informal attire and bare feet. Her greed saber cut through the air in a series of precise, practiced arcs. The hum of the blade was a constant, soothing rhythm, but tonight, it felt different—Almost mournful.

The Hapani schooled her features into a mask of concentration, but honeyed, topaz eyes betrayed her. They were deep, dark pools, filled with confusion and misplaced sorrow. Her usual calm had been shattered with fragmented memories of something truly terrible. Words. That there was something in her that was changed since Exegol. What did that mean?

She could remember Brandyn. His eyes…Burning crimson.

The memory made her stumble and she backed up to start over. Correcting her form. She spun, pivoted, and struck at an imaginary foe. Her saber hummed through the air with a sharp, almost angry, hiss. Her breath came in steady, measured exhalations, and each one gave release from tension. Yet, her movements lacked their usual crispness, a subtle hesitation creeping in.

What was the dark ocean she had felt in that place? Pressing down…So heavily. Cybelle could feel it still. Now. Whispering little things in the back of her mind that didn’t seem to want to stop. She could feel frustration at her inability to shut it out. It coiled within her and was slowly turning into a knot of unresolved grief. Her heart felt…So heavy.

As if she had lost someone important. As if…She had lost part of herself.

Peace. She repeated the steps of her training over and over with almost robotic precision. Seeking…Peace. Seeking the place of calm, unfettered, strength. Faith and hope in the Light that would see her through any crisis or moral dilemma. She sought not answers to the things that had happened but a way to recover from it. The past was what it was. It was the present she needed to be mindful of. Not…Lost in some future fancy. The experience in the cave was just that. An experience. Perhaps even a shared one—But it was nothing more. Not a prophecy, not a warning.

Just a dream.

It was just a dream.

 

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

His footsteps were burdened, each tread heavy with the weight of unspoken grief and weariness. His arm ached, cramping with the strain, yet he bore her limp form through the gloom of twilight. When Brandyn finally staggered to the imposing threshold of the Estate's grand house, he was a shell of resolve, scarcely holding himself upright.

There had been a moment—dark and disorienting—where he had lost himself. In that abyss, a primal force surged through him, unfurling like a ravenous beast. He struck down his foe in that shadowed embrace, believing himself righteous. Yet, deep within, he grappled with an undeniable truth: no good could ever be born of such darkness. The cave on the Estate grounds, a grim sentinel to their return, now seemed to conspire against Cybelle's swift recovery. This impending loss of her—a cruel echo of the eve of their union—tightened its grip on his heart.

His legs wobbled, trembling with each faltering step as he approached the twilight-kissed entrance. The droid servants, ever efficient, converged upon him, eager to relieve him of Cybelle's inert weight. He insisted on their immediate care, even as he collapsed to the floor, spent and defeated. They returned after a time, their presence a cold, mechanical reminder of his solitude, and began their dutiful ministrations.

Sleep claimed him, but it was no sanctuary. The dreams were relentless, replaying the confrontation in visceral detail. The young woman's venomous hatred had seeped into his very bones, her accusations resonating with a cruel clarity. Her loathing wove itself into his dreams, an insidious thread entwined with his despair.

Awakening was no balm. His body throbbed, a dull, persistent ache—the lingering echo of the life force that had been ripped away and returned. The sensation was achingly real, a testament to the grievous transference that had transpired.

In his own bed, he found the prospect of solitary slumber almost absurdly alien. The droids, unaware of the gulf now yawning between them, could not ease the distance he felt from her.

Guided by the subtle currents of the Force, his bare feet traversed the familiar path to the training room. There, he paused, observing her for a fleeting moment. What could he possibly say? She might still cling to the delusion that the young woman was somehow her progeny, no matter how irrational it seemed.

He did not linger in contemplation. His gaze swept the room, seeking the comforting weight of his lightsaber. The Force tugged insistently in one direction, and he moved toward it, his hand outstretched as if to grasp the solace it offered.

The hilt met his palm with a decisive clack, the blade flaring to life in its scarlet menace. The clash was immediate and disorienting, Cybelle's blade meeting his in a dance of intensity.

A pang of panic seized Brandyn's fragile spirit. The black and gold hilt slipped from his grasp, falling to the ground with a muted thud as its light extinguished. He recoiled, eyes darting between Cybelle and the discarded weapon.

"I am sorry… I thought… I am sorry…" His voice was a ragged whisper, fear coiling tightly around his heart as his back met the wall.

Cybelle Sal-Soren

 

[Cybelle Sal-Soren]

TAG: Brandyn Sal-Soren
EQUIPMENT: Petal Blossom | Green Lightsaber (Generic)

Her wrist twisted and her saber sang through the air. One arc. Two. A slow turn…Thrust. Return.

These were the same movements she had committed to physical memory throughout her time on the Shore and for a little while she could almost feel the sun on her face. The mist from one of the many Nabooian lakes and waterways…The scent of citrus. A lemon bar that her Master had made sounded so good at the moment. Cybelle swore there was something in them that made everything seem less harsh. It was like light filling her stomach, maybe, because they were always made with so much love.

Gianna had sworn up and down that "love" always made food taste better.

She was so in tune with her form that she didn't realize that Brandyn was there right away. But when she did her expression melted into something soft and shy. She wanted his presence…More than anything. It also wasn't all that unusual for them to train together and when she turned to meet his blade with her own a wave of red crashing into green shocked her into silence. Her heart froze. Before feeling like it might explode from how quickly it began to race again.

Her eyes shot to his face. To his eyes.

Looking for that supernova crimson, that endless, hate-filled bonfire of dying stars.

Cybelle didn't move.

The soft wind whistled in her ears and thunder once again rolled in the distance. Her eyes were a strange mix of emptiness that only seemed to worsen when the jade light of her weapon disappeared and left them at the mercy of ambient lighting. Her pin-straight hair was slowly pulled from its binding while her hand moved with the grace of a conductor. Lifting the sith-saber into the air with a curl of slender fingers. It turned over and over on itself. Spinning, slowly.

She could see the red light pushing through the chest of the stranger.

See her fall.

See his glory while the young woman was dying in her arms. He felt…vindicated.

Righteous.

Cybelle pulled it apart, but by but, separating the components. The grip unbound and the gold parts unlocked so she could render it into its base pieces. The hilt. The bifurcating cyclical-ignition pulse. Power cell. And so much more, instability, until she finally found the blooded kyber crystal at the core. Hundreds of little pieces floated in the air before she walked through them. Pressing them aside as if she were parting some sort of technological curtain. The red crystal…

She wrapped her hand around it.

Swallowing the ominous light.

The nanotech in her bangle swarmed It before hiding it away until she could figure out to do with it. Her lightsaber disappeared in a similar fashion as she slowly approached the man she loved until she was standing right in front of him. Cybelle reached out and let two hands hold his face…Willing him to let her touch him. Hold him. When, he had recoiled so swiftly. "You are mine…"

"I am yours."

The soft vows that they'd whispered not long ago came to the surface with a rush of warmth that would see her drawing his face down toward her own. Their foreheads met rather than lips. Cybelle had so badly wanted to believe that it was all a nightmare. That it was all a dream. But the presence of a weapon that they had never forged was evidence enough that they had both crossed a line. Her eyes closed…And her tears began again. Silent. But…It was worse than if she would have screamed at the top of her lungs. They were full of emotion that peace would never be able to soothe.

There was a way back. There was always…A way back.

If they wanted it.

"You are mine…I am yours. Stay with me."

Her head tilted just enough that he would feel her lips brushing his when she spoke.

"Stay with me."

 

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

He clung to her, in spirit as much as in the physical. Pulling Cybelle close, the full weight of their experience the night before began to crash own about him. No matter who that young woman was, he had given over to the call of that dark weapon. He had given himself over to the Dark Side of the Force. His potential had again been revealed in one horrific moment. The only thing that calmed him now was her.

His eyes looked over her shoulders as he pulled her into an embrace. “I am yours. You are mine,” he whispered their new mantra.

The weapon felt foreign and yet familiar. He had instinctively known when he reached for it that it was his, and yet he had never seen anything like it prior to last night in the cave. As much as it seemed unlikely, the possibility of it being a product of some future dark version of himself was a convenient answer. Convenient, but devastating.

”She was really ours…wasn’t she?” His voice cracking under the weight of his understanding.

Young Teyla’s words. Her hatred of him. Her intent to kill him, but more than that. She desired to best him, to prove herself stronger than him.

Brandyn sobbed as he thought of her face, all twisted with hatred for him. He could remember the beat of her heart through the Force as she attempted to strike him down. Brandyn pushed his face into Cybelle’s neck.

”I just wanted to protect you…she hated me…what do I become…I am so sorry…please forgive me…”

The words dropped in the midst of tears, reaching for breath that he wished would abandon him. He was not like his father. He was worse.

Cybelle Sal-Soren

 

[Cybelle Sal-Soren]

TAG: Brandyn Sal-Soren

Brandyn drew her in as if she were his only lifeline.

Cybelle's hands slid from the face she knew so well and her arms wrapped around him tightly to ensure he wouldn't somehow slip away. She needed him, even when her heart felt like it was unraveling, as much as he needed her. She pressed her cheek to his when his face found her neck, holding him, as if she could somehow protect him from the agony that was already sinking in with sharp claws. His sobs were hot against her skin, broken and jagged, and she felt each one echo inside her chest. As if they were her own.

But her tears remained silent, shimmering, in honeyed topaz orbs.

Cybelle wanted to weep for him, with him, for the weight of the guilt that threatened to press him down into the dark. Part of her wanted to stomp her foot. Shout. Throw a fit for the cruel twist of fate that had led them to a cave of terror. She had never seen it before tonight…But it didn't matter. It had placed a red blade in his hands so easily. Too easily.

…A sith-saber.

Her breath hitched at the memory. It flashed in her mind—the glow of it, the hum, the way it crackled with power as it cleaved through the bioluminescent dark. The young woman had seen the way it melded into him, the way his body knew the movements before his mind did. Brandyn had wielded it with the skill of a master, with the precision of someone who was long accustomed to its call. And what terrified her the most—what churned in her gut even now, despite the warmth of his body against hers—was not how natural it had looked in his hand.

It was how easily she had taken it apart.

As if she knew it…As if she knew how the hilt was made.

Cybelle had never feared him. Not once, not even during his stay in prison. Even now, wrapped in his grief, with the weight of a blasphemous nightmare pressing down on them, she didn't fear him. She contemplated the path before them, the shadow, that lingered at the edges of his spirit, waiting for a moment of weakness. She held trepidation toward what the Force had shown them. Toward what he had done. Toward what she had done.

She silently mourned the future that had died beneath his blade.

Teyla.​

Her stomach bottomed out finally…And the sorrow for a babe she had not born, for a woman, that she had never known ate at her. It burned through her. Burned, and her hands held Brandyn tighter. There was nothing she could say that would immediately lift this desolation. But she was here. She loved him. She loved every part of him—And that would have to be enough.

She drew in a slow, deep breath, and let the moment stretch between them while she tried to find some sort of composure. His words rang in her mind, the plea for forgiveness, the horror at what he feared he had become. The war that waged within him should have been foreign to her…But was it? Cybelle had pulled the very life from him. His very essence, as if, she were some sort of force forsaken vampire. Her actions had been made with the intent of saving a life but…What was that seductive whisper that craved more? She couldn't make it out, not, over the memory of Teyla fading away.

Softly, she stroked his back, her fingers tracing slow, comforting patterns so that she might ground him in the present. Not in the nightmare. "Brandyn…", she spoke, her voice small, trembling, but full of aching tenderness. "Brandyn."

It was steadier now, to get his attention, but she didn't release him from her arms. Cybelle refused to let go of the connection that tethered them to one another. She didn't want to feel the aching hole inside that didn't make any sense. As if she had lost someone, something, so very precious. He hadn't finished the thought…But he didn't have to. She knew. "You are not your father…"

"Nor are you the man you fear you will become. You are you, and I know who you are."

"I see you.... Only, you."

Her words were calming while she continued to run her hand between his shoulder blades. Slowly, easing away that tension. There was a light within her that regardless what the cave wanted, refused to fade. Cybelle could not think about herself but she was unwavering when it came to the man she loved so completely. The Hapani pressed her cheek to his temple, feeling the dampness of his tears against her skin. "You are mine…I am yours. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. No matter what you think you've done, or what that cave tried to show us, we are stronger together. That weapon…That darkness…It doesn't define you."

Teyla.​

Cybelle had an overwhelmingly strong urge to lie. So strong…That it startled her. She wanted to assure him that the woman from the cave was just a figment. That she was only a dark and twisted reflection of what could be—But she couldn't. "I…don't know…if she was ours in another life…another place…another time…or even if she was real at all..."

The truth. Her sweet voice cracked with the heartache that followed…

"But she wasn't ours, Brandyn…", her whisper came soft, but resolute, while she tried to pluck answers out of thin air. "Not truly. The Dark Side lies…It twists the truth until it feels like it's the only path, but it's not. You were protecting us—Me. And that doesn't make you like…him."

Her embrace tightened.

Just to remind him she was still there.

"I'm so sorry that I hurt you…That I didn't listen…Can you forgive me?"

 

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

Her words tumbled over his aching soul. Only later would he fully comprehend half of what she was saying, the other half sunk into his chest and tore at his heart. If despair were a pit, he felt buried in the muck beneath its lowest point.

Brandyn did what he always did. He clung to Cybelle.

You are such a disappointment.

His inner monologue was having a field day. And his dawning horror at his own intentions were only now making themselves known. For all they had seen, for all they had been warned about, there was still some power with them to change the future they saw.

”Cybelle. There is no path…”

His throat, constricted with stress, squeezed out the words. His sorrow, his fear, they gave him a glimpse forward.

He clung to her, even as he considered walking away and never returning to her. It would prevent the future they saw. But it would not prevent darkness from overtaking them.

He kissed her neck, with a whisper of forgiveness granted her, and considered if he could convince her leave him. He knew that to be as foolish notion. Her devotion forbade it.

HIs arms held her close. They could avoid having children. Even without a child in their lives, Brandyn still saw path upon path that lead to darkness. The presence of a child alone granting a hope to cling too, small as it may be.

Shadows hung over his mind. His fingers curled around the loose fabric of her clothing. His tears fell freely on her neck, absent any sobs. He could end it all. Remove himself from the equation. But no…

He saw her face. Compassion rending the light from her eyes, and kindness a swift death at her hand. Cybelle’s eyes red, and face contorted by jagged protrusions that either threatened to or had broke through her once flawless skin. Without him, she became something…unspeakable.

Then the unthinkable crossed his mind. If not he be gone, then her. The consideration was immediately discarded without even a second’s thought. Still, his heart smote him for thinking it at all.

”…no path that is not darkness.”

You should never have returned to her.

The horror now fully settled in his mind. He truly didn’t care what happened…so long as he had her.

Cybelle Sal-Soren

 

[Cybelle Sal-Soren]

TAG: Brandyn Sal-Soren

She felt him shake.

It wasn't in the way someone shivered from the cold. It was…Involuntary. The way his breath caught in his throat, as he whispered those words "no path that is not darkness" everything felt wrong. The weight of such a statement hung around them like a gray cloud that made it hard to breathe. It was thick and oppressive and she felt her heart…falter…beneath that heaviness. They clung to one another as if they might spiral into the abyss if they let go…But—It wasn't just fear that she felt from him anymore. It was resignation.

Cybelle…Knew.

Some part of her had always known about Brandyn's struggle. She had seen his eyes after he'd brought her home from the New Way, when the Force had fled her, when he fought, and after the death of his parents, which had ultimately landed him in prison. Cybelle saw…little flickers of something silvery and black in him that she didn't quite recognize. Only…She did. She would know him anywhere. Her heart knew him better than anything else in the universe—No matter what the mind perceived. It wasn't fair that the Force seemed determined to test him in ways others didn't understand…But he always seemed to come back. Sometimes, kicking and screaming…

But he always kept his head above water.

This? It felt different. She worried that his sorrow wasn't just for what had happened, but, for something far more dangerous—That he had begun to truly believe and accept that there was no escape. The auburn-haired mouse bit her lip. Swallowing, a dire thought. Perhaps he wasn't seeking a reprieve from a dark future…

Just an escape from her.

Cybelle's breath trembled, her hands tightening around his back, as if she could will that thought away and anchor him to the present. Anchor him to her. To the Light that she believed whole-heartedly in. The little Hapani refused to see a world where they didn't exist together. It had been so long, they had come so far, and not for the first time, she felt him withdrawing in ways she couldn't put words to. The tightness in her heart…

That encroaching loneliness…

It was all too familiar.

"Stay with me…"

His voice had been filled with such hopelessness, but what made her heartbreak wasn't the surrender she felt, but the distance they carried. A distance that she feared was growing with every breath. Even while his grip on her seemed desperate. He clung to her as if she were his last tether to the world, to the light, and yet…Part of him was already considering leaving.

She could feel it.

Did he think it would save her? Did he think severing ties would stop the darkness from coming? Did he think it would spare him the pain he'd endured in the cave? Even as her mind started to spin with the madness of what she didn't know…Cybelle refused to let it. She had her fears. Her worries. Her insufficiencies. She had never thought herself deserving of him, not ever, but she knew they were only stronger together. Bad things happened when they were apart.

Every, single, thing. Every time.

She drew in a slow breath, steadying herself, as the full weight of his pain pressed into her. It mingled with her unspoken fears until…It didn't. She errantly kissed his temple while catching acceptance of her apology…some measure of forgiveness…And for the moment it was enough. It gave her something to hold on to. A place to stand…To fight for him. Again. "Brandyn …", she whispered, her voice soft, muddled from silent tears, but full of quiet strength. "You're wrong…"

The much smaller woman pulled back just enough so she could see his eyes…Enough to unwind one hand from around him so she could find his face. Touch him. Keep him. Where some might have found annoyance or accusation at their partner for constantly trying to find a reason to run Cybelle just…Waited. She would always be there. Waiting, for him. She needed Brandyn to see her now, needed him to know, that no matter how dark it became—She wasn't leaving.

She wasn't letting go.

"There is always a path…", she murmured, her voice firmer now. Her fingers traced careful lines down his cheek before pressing her palm fully against his skin. "It's not what we expected, it's not what we dreamed, but it's there. It's ours to shape. We can still change it."

If this nightmare was even true in the first place.

It could have just as easily been the Dark Side playing tricks. Didn't that happen on Dagobah?

"I can't pretend I'm not afraid, Bran. I've seen the darkness too. I've…felt it…And I know the cost. I could have killed you tonight. I could have…", Cybelle paused while guilt slowly welled up in the back of her throat in place of tears. Her jaw clenched. Swallowing it down. "But I also know what these whispers are trying to do to you, to us. But leaving? Running from this—running from me—won't stop it. Isolation from those we love…That's how it begins."

Everyone knew the story of how Anakin Skywalker had battled his demons and lost. It was both a cautionary tale and a path to redemption. His fall from grace had been slow and almost imperceptible to those who knew him best until it was too late. It started with the Darkside presenting him with a way to save his wife from imaginary danger, which then, turned to imaginary jealousy and culminated in an unforgivable expression of hate for all he had once loved. That…Couldn't be what the Force wanted for Brandyn, for them.

Her eyes closed and she leaned into him slowly. So trusting.

"The rules are still the same as they were before. Unless you've fallen out of love with me…I won't let you walk away. And I won't leave you, no matter how hard you try and convince me that it's the right thing to do. I'm not something you can just push aside when things get difficult. You asked me to marry you—That means that you don't get to carry this alone."

Her eyes flickered back up toward his face for a moment, but she angled herself away so she could rest her cheek on his shoulder. Cybelle breathed him in and her gentle heart spread toward him in a faint hum of energy. The softest glow, that held perfect, innocent truth. "I need you by my side, loving me, like no one else can. If we need to be mindful of our actions…If children aren't in our future…I accept that and I will love you all the same."

Cybelle exhaled and nuzzled into his shoulder to hide the sudden hurt. She could accept not having a family one day but…It wasn't a choice she'd thought some shadow-play cave would make for her. Still. It was a small price to pay, wasn't it? Her heart was…Pounding. Every word was full of promise and quiet pleading, something, only a deeply nurtured love could bring. She had nursed embers of it for years…Now that she was able to love him freely? Without fear of his father, rejection, or anything else? She didn't intend to stop.

"You're exactly enough, as you are, Bran. You're my path. Nothing else."

 

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

Anything for her.

Anything with her.

A defiant resolve rose within his chest, fuelled by her pledges of fidelity. Sorrow laced with fear wove itself into the fabric of his intentions. Brandyn knew that he had surrendered the facade of control he had over his destiny. The Force would have its way, his path guided by shadow and light alike. Because he had her, he knew he could triumph.

He kissed the back of her head, not softly. The intensity of it left him breathless. The aroma of her hair filled his lungs, sending his mind reeling. Memories of a night not so far past flooding his mind. In all but the ceremonial sense, she was already his wife. She was the one he promised to hold and cherish, though the words themselves had yet to be uttered in polite company.

With a gentle maneuvering, Brandyn brought her face back away from his shoulder and his hands cupped her cheeks. His thumb caressed the kiss lurking in the corner of her lips, and then moved to wipe away her tears.

”I am sorry…you are forever…putting me back together…”

His eyes searched hers.

So much pain. He felt it too. He could not help but grow misty eyed again.

”…the dark side always lies.”

His mother’s words sounded false on his lips. He had never struggled so much believe them, not even when Ralia died at the hands of Darth Wallgof .

Words. Promises. All manner of sweet intonations flitted through his mind. No sooner were his next words ready, then another idea would push them aside. Finally, her relented to his longing.

The kiss was firmer than intended. Less careful and measured as sweetness might entail. Instead, each breathless motion had all his sadness, fear, devotion and hopes poured into them.

Cybelle Sal-Soren

 

[Cybelle Sal-Soren]

TAG: Brandyn Sal-Soren

Her breath caught when he kissed her.

Not for the first time, certainly, not for the last.

Brandyn had a way of stealing the air from her lungs just by glancing in her direction. She didn't know what it was, exactly, but the boyish charm that usually set her blushing into the floor was entirely absent. Her face melted into his hands while his emotions poured into her—the sorrow, the fear, and unspoken promises. It wasn't gentle. It was true of the moment, raw and unfiltered, touched with the same silent storm that that threatened to drown them both.

But there was something else among the waves. Conversation, without sound. Cybelle let herself be swept away for a moment, dazed, while following the truth in what he didn't say. A sense of belonging began to creep in to combat the loneliness. Her eyes closed and her arms slipped up to twine about his neck while quiet tears pulled down her cheeks. It wasn't enough to wallow in sorrow, in guilt, when she loved him so completely.

She had always tried to be strong for him, regardless, the meek little Knight that she was. Brandyn would feel her bend in his arms…But never away from him. Always toward him. Always giving, accepting, and secretly craving everything he had to offer. It wasn't enough to be a place to put his pain. To be a container. That was only a temporary solution to an emotionally charged problem—That would no doubt burn through them both.

The dark side lied.

The dark side lied.

Cybelle picked at her memories…Leafing through them, searching, for moment after moment that she could share with him. It started small. Smashed sand castles on Naboo and childish giggling while they hid from one another in the gardens on the Ee'everwest Estate. Her teenage day dreams that she would guiltily wave away, imagining, the day Brandyn might return to the Shore. Talking to him at night when the stars were high overhead, sharing secrets, no one was ever meant to hear. They jumped from his absence—To seeing him again.

The elation, fear of rejection, and finally a kiss that broke down every wall she had. It spiraled from there toward every wonderful memory she clung to. Every time he held her hand. When he stood beside her and helped her heal a terminally ill child.

Their first real date—When his love bridged her to the Force again.

There were so many sparks, so many threads, filled with so much more than darkness. The present looked dim because so much had happened in such a short period of time. It didn't need to remain that way. They were not slaves to some sort of interspatial prophecy nor were they denied free will. The Force…Wasn't cruel. It wasn't to blame—Nor was any single person. It was a culmination of all they had endured…But never dealt with.

Rearing its ugly head in the most demented way possible.

She cut the flow of memory by sweetly breaking the kiss, though, not completely. The auburn-haired woman stayed close enough that her lips tickled his when she spoke. So close that she could breathe his air. "I'm not fixing you…", she whispered, her voice a little dazed, but steady. "We're just finding the pieces, together."

She took a slow, shaky breath, feeling the weight of this supposed future try to settle like a stone in her chest. The dark side lied. Cybelle, repeated that in her mind. Over and over. Until that stone felt just a little bit lighter. Her body shifted up while she leaned on her tip toes to catch his lips for a moment more. Softer. As if it could heal all the many wounds the cave had left behind. Her left hand slid down to cover his, pressing his palm to her cheek, as if that simple touch could hold them both steady. "I wish you could see what I see…"

"You don't need to be perfect."

A soft nuzzle accompanied by another, butterfly soft kiss. Each sweet touch was balanced by a burst of warmth that would soothe the rough edges of the darker emotions that swirled like a clinging fog. She would banish it…One way or the other. "You don't have to hold everything together alone. Let me be your friend. Your confidant. Your partner, not your ward, your wife."

 

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

Forehead against forehead, Brandyn opened his mind to her. The fear, confusion and despair within were nothing new, they were on full display. But he wished her to see the depths of his adoration and devotion. I am yours. You are mine.

“Let us defy the fear. Defy the dark. Together.”

His nose bumped hers. His fingers gently looped strands of her hair round themselves before letting them unravel and fall away. Her memories washed over him, and he shuddered under the weight of their unfurling tale. So much light amidst the dark moments. She being at the centre of them all.

”The darkness does not define us, my love,” he whispered, “we cannot allow it.”

He seemed less to be speaking his heart, and more speaking her lesson. It was true, despite how his heart still rent in two. The could forge their own path.

”Our children deserve to be…so they may be loved by you…and by me,” he whispered, denying the path devoid of an infant’s smile.

“Or child…if you only want one,” he quickly added, a sign of a foreign levity briefly visiting his tone, “we can have that talk later.”

He took the moment, the barest of reprieves, to force himself to stand. Within moments, he had scooped the remarkably feather like form of Cybelle into his arms. His eyes spoke more than his words. “Let’s defy fate.”

---

The back of his head still thrummed with the remnants of despair. It had not left, in fact, he wondered if it ever would. It would be a constant game of whack-a-porg perhaps. Revelations of one’s potential dark future tended to leave one scarred. This would not be an easy process.

Their love had been the balm that had healed the gapping wound, leaving only the scars that would need constant attendance. Their shared moments had been different. Weightier than before. Less free. More daring. Their love defied the future with its every breath.

Brandyn carried two mugs. The handles of each seemed too small for his fingers and the heat of the liquid inside was threatening to burn him. “One….hot…chocolate….as ordered,” he attempted to redirect the handle towards a Cybelle that was quickly propping herself up on the plethora of cushions that seemed to adorn every soft surface. “Take it quickly…please.”

With his one hand relieved, he was able to readjust the other mug and put it down on the nearby nightstand. The aroma of his bitter tea was pleasant to his senses, though he knew she didn’t care for it. He would wait for his drink to cool, and hopefully remember to drink it.

“You know. I say…a lot of cheesy stuff…’Let’s defy fate’,” he bobbled his head about in a self-mocking way, “I mean…you can tell I spent my childhood watching too many holofilms.”

He sat down next to her, probably with too much force. His eyes shot in her direction to see if he had caused her to spill the hot chocolate. “Sorry…”

Cybelle Sal-Soren

 

[Cybelle Sal-Soren]

TAG: @Brandyn

Her mind was still spinning almost pleasantly from being carried, cradled, close to his chest, from the mention of children in any capacity. It was a dream she'd never allowed herself to have. It was something she'd not truly considered over all their duties within the Jedi Order. Children. Of course, the idea had bounced around but…With the love of her life? With Brandyn?

He would find her blushing a little when he handed her the mug, his fingers dancing awkwardly around the too-small handle. The sight of him juggling both drinks, trying not to burn himself, tugged at something warm inside her chest. "Thank you…", she took the hot chocolate quickly, cradling it between her hands as she propped herself up against a mountain of cushions that made the living area a place of comfort and respite.

What could she say? She liked soft, fluffy things.

The simple comfort of the moment settled over her while she blew on the beverage…Almost pixie-esque while she kept it close. Cybelle raised an eyebrow at his self-mocking gesture, but her lips were pressed into a hint of a smile. "Mm, yes...", she teased, sipping at the edge of her mug, while that smile slowly pulled into a good-natured smirk as her nose cutely crinkled. "Let's defy fate, together forever, fight the galaxy for you—Very dramatic. But, hey, I'm not complaining. I always thought your holo-inspired lines were a feature…Not a bug."

It was charming. More, than just charming.

When he plopped down next to her a smidge too hard, she laughed softly. The sound filled the room and despite the dim evening lighting it seemed to make the shadows retreat. The honeyed sound was gentle, beautiful, and wrapped around him with effortless love. "Careful, or you'll be making me another one…", her voice was light, affectionate. But…Beneath the teasing, beneath the ease of cohabitation, there was something else on her mind.

The wedding.

Something she had been holding back, waiting, for the right moment to bring up, though, she knew there was no perfect time. Cybelle set her mug down on the table and turned to face him. Her fingers brushed against his, lingering, just enough to feel his warmth.

"I do mean it, though. Together forever…"

The words were shy.

It wasn't as if she had said anything outwardly all that staggering but it still made her heart skip a few beats. "Bran…", she started, trying, to piece her thoughts together…But always feeling like it sounded like more of an accusation than a statement of devotion. The last thing she wanted to do after an emotionally confusing evening was to add to it. But…They were running out of time. "After we do this…After the wedding—There's no going back for me."

There was no going back now, but, she thought it made her sound less like a lovelorn basket case.

"Every marriage has its complications no matter how much two people love each other. I just…I want you. All of you. The good and the bad. So…when things get hard?"

She hesitated, just for a second, her voice softening.

"Please…Don't run from me anymore. I'll be your home, your shelter, if you let me."

 

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

He felt guilt creeping up the back of his neck as it threatened to strangle him. He had run from her. He had run from her love. This was a hard realisation to come too. Sure, in his mind, he was running toward vengeance. Or he was running toward despair. Ultimately though, it though his knee jerk reaction was always to depart from her.

It was not for her preservation. It was self-preservation. He did not want her to see all of him. He was ashamed.

He gave Cybelle a half smile, and sipped his too-hot drink. She would be able to sense the conflict within him. She would would be able to sense his guilt. He was an open book...now.

"No running," he said. His hand reached out and squeezed hers.

"I promise."

His eyes were welling up, unexpectedly. How could he deserve one such as her? She was...perfection.

"I am yours. Warts and all."

He didn't actually have any warts. Well. No physical ones.

"Will you promise...to let me...protect you? Do not keep things from me, because you are afraid of how I will react. Over protective...and all that. I...will trust your guidance."

Cybelle Sal-Soren