Ryha and Anakin laid tangled between their bedsheets, getting lost in the ends and beginnings of one another through giggles, gasps, and the soft pops of kisses being exchanged for an immeasurable amount of time. In a word, it was bliss.
So far, the married life was more than they could have ever expected it to be. They were reunited, they were madly in love, and they were attached at the hip. If one of them got up, the other followed. Anakin kept taking care of his wife's remaining wounds, and Ryha worked on making sure that her husband was adjusting well to his new metal arm. They ate together, bathed together, slept together, and filled every passing moment with never ending conversation.
Anakin filled their nights with stories of his bravest moments as a Jedi, reenacting his highlights with great dramatics, and revelled in the childlike wonder Ryha exhibited. She laughed and sat on the edge of her seat every single time, even though she already knew the fate of her hero at the end of the story. Anakin, in return, listened to her talk about memories she had of their mother, watching as Anakin closed his eyes and played them out in his head. It still pained him to think about how much he missed out on, but there wasn't anything he could do about it now. He was just grateful that there was someone to pass on these stories and give him insight as to who his mom was outside of the harsh slave conditions on Tatooine.
The cloud of reverie was floating as high as they were, and they had no intention of ever coming down. Anakin decided that for the rest of their lives, he wanted their marriage to be like this. Just them, in their own bubble of peace and happiness, where nothing from the outside could touch them.
Well, except time.
The pair each knew that their time was running out. Within just days of their wedding, Anakin would be forced to return to the Jedi Order, his bliss gone within an instant. And with the war brewing on the horizon...
Closing his eyes, he pressed a kiss to his wife's lips and rocked her gently, committing every curve and dip of her skin to memory. He made a map of her freckles, and kissed every inch he saw. He never wanted to forget a single thing about his little wife in his arms, and cherished every second. He ran his ringers through her ebony hair, and smiled as he saw her eyes flutter shut at the sensations he was causing.
"You're so beautiful," he whispered, taking her jaw in his powerful hands and pressing a kiss to her seemingly always pouted lips. "I love you so much."
"Anakin," she whimpered. "My husband..."
That was something Anakin knew that he would never grow tired of hearing. My husband. The two words falling off her tongue were almost as perfect as when she said I do. He was a husband. More importantly, he was her husband. She was no longer Ryha Dallie, the orphaned slave girl from Tatooine; she was now Ryha Skywalker, as she always should have been in the first place. But that part of her life didn't matter anymore. They dealt with the past and now it was time for their future. The future they had ahead of them, as uncertain as it seemed at the moment, was theirs for the taking as husband and wife.
They did it. They really did it.
They came undone in one another's embrace, and stayed there long after, just enjoying the close proximity as they had done ever since their wedding. Anakin ran his flesh hand up and down her back, while Ryha drew little nothings on his bare, toned chest. It was everything either of them could have ever dreamed of.
"Anakin?" Ryha asked, looking up at him through her long eyelashes.
"Yes, my love?" he hummed.
"How much time do we have left?"
YOU ARE READING
home 🪐 anakin skywalker
Fanfiction"clinging to me, like a last breath you would breathe, you were like home to me." in which anakin skywalker finds his way home to the only girl that ever felt like one.
