Silent Reckonings [Yord Fandar x OC]

Chapter 12

Elara stood alone in the vast training hall, its expanse echoing with the quiet hum of the lights overhead. She had been summoned here early by Master Norin, but as the minutes ticked by, she found herself lost in her thoughts, the silence amplifying her sense of abandonment. Hours had passed, and still, there was no sign of him. This wasn't unusual—her master had a habit of disappearing, missing trainings, and skipping lessons. He was often preoccupied with other matters, leaving Elara to fend for herself. She had grown used to this, but today, the familiar sting of neglect was sharper than usual.

Elara's mind wandered back to her late start in the Order. Brought to the temple at the age of twelve, she was considered old for a youngling to begin training. Most started much younger—Master Sol, for example, had been brought to the temple at just four years old. Growing up, she felt the weight of her tardy arrival keenly, always trailing behind her peers in skills and knowledge. Her insecurities kept her isolated, watching from the sidelines as other Padawans formed bonds and excelled under the attentive guidance of their masters. In contrast, her relationship with Master Norin was distant and detached. He had only taken her on as a Padawan at the insistence of his friend, Master Sol.

Determined not to fall further behind, Elara took her training into her own hands. She spent countless hours in the library, studying advanced combat techniques, and practiced alone in the empty halls. Her methods were unorthodox, sometimes bordering on the darker aspects of combat, far removed from the refined techniques of the Jedi Order. This self-taught approach had its drawbacks—she remembered the humiliation of being bested by a younger Padawan in a sparring match. It was only through her lessons with Master Yord that her techniques began to align more closely with the Jedi's principles, yet she still held onto her darker methods for those times she deemed them necessary.

The door to the training hall slid open, breaking her reverie. Elara looked up, surprised to see Master Yord standing in the doorway. She rose to her feet, a mix of surprise and admiration coloring her expression. "Master Yord, what are you doing here?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Master Norin asked me to continue your training, especially in combat. Sorry for the delay—I was training my Padawan before this," Yord explained, stepping into the room.

Elara couldn't help but take in his appearance. Tall, broad-shouldered, and undeniably handsome, Yord had a presence that was hard to ignore. His dark skin seemed to glow under the lights, and his locks fell gracefully across his forehead. She knew it was inappropriate to dwell on these thoughts, but she couldn't help it—Yord's physical presence was striking.

Feeling her eyes on him, Yord shifted awkwardly. "Shall we begin?" he suggested, breaking the moment.

They started with warm-ups, then moved into more rigorous training. Yord emphasized the importance of mastering advanced techniques, pushing Elara hard. They sparred relentlessly, the intensity of their movements leaving both of them flushed and sweating. As the heat in the room became unbearable, Yord paused and asked if he could remove his robe. Elara nodded and followed suit, shedding her own sweat-drenched robe.

Resuming their sparring, Yord intensified his attacks, but Elara matched him move for move, her skills unexpectedly adept. Yord's confusion was evident. "Did Master Norin teach you this?" he asked, blocking a punch aimed at his ribs.

"No, I—" Elara began, then paused. "I taught myself."

With a final, decisive blow, Elara sent Yord sprawling to the floor. She let out a deep sigh, hands on her knees, sweat dripping onto the ground. Exhausted, she dropped to the floor, sprawled out, her face flushed.

Yord pushed himself up and walked over to where she lay, a small smile playing on his lips. "Your techniques are...different," he said, sitting beside her. "Darker. Jedi don't usually dabble in those methods."

Elara closed her eyes, her breath still heavy. "You don't win by playing by the rules. Sometimes you need those techniques when you're face to face with criminals who don't care about the rules," she replied, opening her eyes and sitting up. She faced Yord, her knees touching his.

"Be careful with that," Yord cautioned, his eyes watching her intently. Her face, still flushed from exertion, and her lips, a deep hue of red, captivated him.

Elara looked into his eyes, feeling a mix of vulnerability and defiance. "I know. But I need to be prepared for anything."

Their proximity heightened the tension between them, an unspoken connection that both thrilled and troubled her. Yord's gaze softened, and for a moment, the strict boundaries of their roles seemed to blur.

"Elara," he began, his voice gentle, "I believe in your potential. But you must find balance. The Jedi way is not just about fighting—it's about understanding and wisdom."

Elara nodded, appreciating his words even as her heart wrestled with her feelings. "Thank you, Master Yord. I'll try."

He smiled, a rare and genuine expression that warmed her. "Good. Now, let's take a break and then continue. There's still much to learn."

As they sat in the quiet aftermath of their intense sparring session, Yord noticed Elara's hair. It had come loose from her braid, which she usually wove into a larger, more intricate style. Now, it was barely held together, with small strands falling in front of her eyes. Among the loose strands, a smaller braid indicated her status as a Padawan.

Without thinking, Yord reached out to brush the hair from her face, his fingertips lightly grazing the skin of her ear and sliding down the side of her neck. Elara's cheeks flushed a deeper red, and she coughed awkwardly, breaking the moment. Realizing what he had done, Yord quickly retrieved his hand, feeling a mix of embarrassment and something more complex that he couldn't quite name.

"Sorry," he murmured, his voice a bit strained.

Elara shook her head slightly, trying to dismiss the tension. "It's fine," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

The air between them was thick with unspoken words and emotions. They both knew that moments like these were a challenge to the Jedi Code, but the connection they felt was undeniable, pulling them closer in ways they couldn't fully understand.

Yord cleared his throat, trying to refocus. "Let's make the most of this break. Hydrate and rest a bit. We'll need our strength for the next round of training."

Elara nodded, grateful for the distraction. She reached for her water bottle, taking a long drink to steady herself. As they sat side by side in silence, the echoes of their shared training and the brief, intimate moment lingered in the air, creating a bond that was becoming harder to ignore.

As they sat together, the intensity of their training momentarily behind them, Elara felt a sense of calm. Despite the challenges, she was not alone in her journey.

"There is no emotion, there is peace.
There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.
There is no passion, there is serenity.
There is no chaos, there is harmony.
There is no death, there is the Force."

Elara closed her eyes, mentally reciting the Jedi Code, hoping to calm herself after what Yord did. His fingertips had left a lingering warmth on her skin, making her heart race. She focused on the words, seeking the serenity they promised, but the memory of his touch persisted, defying the peace she sought.

She breathed deeply, trying to center herself. The Jedi Code had always been her anchor, but today, it seemed insufficient against the turmoil within her. She could still feel the light brush of his fingers, the way they had sent shivers down her spine. Her skin tingled where he had touched her, and she struggled to push the sensations away.

Yord, meanwhile, watched her from the corner of his eye, feeling a similar disquiet. He knew he had crossed a line, however small, and the Jedi Code echoed in his mind as well. "There is no passion, there is serenity," he reminded himself, but the mantra felt hollow against the reality of his feelings.

After a few moments, Elara opened her eyes, her breathing steadier. She glanced at Yord, who was staring intently at the floor, lost in his own thoughts. The silence between them was thick, charged with the weight of what had just happened.

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Author's note:
I wrote this chapter while listening to 'Guilty as Sin?' By Taylor Swift. 

I just want them to kiss already!!!😭