Merrin and Cal - A Made up Love story

Love in the Darkest Places

The stars stretched endlessly beyond the viewport of the Mantis, their light faint but steady, a reminder that even in the darkest voids, hope endured. Cal Kestis and Merrin sat side by side in the cockpit, their silhouettes framed by the dim glow of the controls. It had become their habit, these quiet moments stolen between battles and missions.

Merrin's gaze lingered on the expanse of space, her green eyes reflecting a distant sadness. Dathomir's shadows had always been her home, her comfort. But since joining Cal's crew, she had begun to feel the weight of a different kind of gravity—a connection that pulled her closer to him with every shared glance, every whispered word.

"Thinking about Dathomir?" Cal asked, his voice gentle.

She nodded, her hands clasped in her lap. "I always think of it. But less now... because of you."

Cal blinked, surprised by her candor. Over time, he had learned that Merrin's words, though often few, carried immense weight.

"I'm glad," he said, leaning back slightly. "But I know it's not easy leaving your home behind."

Merrin tilted her head, studying him. "It is not just my home I think of. It is my sisters, my clan... what I lost."

Cal hesitated. He knew the ache of loss all too well—his master, his fellow Padawans, his childhood. Yet, Merrin's pain was different, ancient and raw, carved into her soul like a scar.

"You've been through so much," he said, his voice steady. "And yet you're still here. Still fighting."

Her lips curved into a faint smile. "I have my reasons."

He looked at her, his expression softening. "What are they?"

For a moment, she said nothing, her gaze distant. Then she turned to him, her voice quiet but firm. "You. The crew. This... life. It is more than I thought I could have."

A Bond That Could Not Be Broken

Their connection had started as something fragile, a flicker of trust born in the shadowy depths of Dathomir. Cal had seen the fire in Merrin, her strength and resilience. Merrin, in turn, had seen the weight Cal carried—the guilt of survival, the burden of being the last hope of a fading order.

At first, their relationship had been one of cautious camaraderie. Merrin's sharp wit and biting humor clashed with Cal's earnest optimism. But with every battle fought side by side, every quiet conversation under the stars, the walls between them began to crumble.

Merrin found herself drawn to Cal's unwavering sense of hope, a light that refused to dim even in the face of overwhelming darkness. And Cal... Cal was captivated by Merrin's fierce independence, her vulnerability hidden beneath layers of strength.

One night, after a particularly harrowing mission on a storm-ridden planet, they found themselves alone in the Mantis's cargo bay. Merrin sat cross-legged on the floor, a faint green glow emanating from her hands as she practiced her magick.

Cal approached, sitting a few feet away. "That's beautiful," he said, watching the ethereal light dance across her fingers.

Merrin glanced at him, her expression unreadable. "It is a tool. Nothing more."

"I don't believe that," he said softly. "Your magick... it's a part of who you are. It's not just a tool. It's... you."

Her hands stilled, the glow fading. "And your lightsaber?" she asked, her tone challenging. "Is it not also just a tool?"

Cal smiled, leaning back on his hands. "It used to be. But now... it's a reminder. Of what I've lost, and what I'm fighting for."

She studied him, her green eyes piercing. "And what are you fighting for, Cal Kestis?"

He held her gaze, the weight of his answer filling the air. "For people like you. People who deserve a chance to live, to find peace. To be free."

For once, Merrin didn't have a sharp retort. Instead, she simply nodded, her expression softening.

A Love Unspoken

It wasn't long before the crew began to notice the subtle changes in Cal and Merrin. Greez, ever the gossip, was the first to comment.

"Is it just me, or are you two spending a lot of time together?" he asked one evening, his tone teasing.

Merrin raised an eyebrow, her voice as dry as Tatooine's deserts. "Do you not also spend a great deal of time with your stew pots, Greez?"

Cere hid a smile behind her cup of tea. Cal, however, turned a shade of red that rivaled a blaster bolt.

"It's not like that," he mumbled, avoiding Merrin's amused glance.

But it was like that.

Every moment they shared, every glance and touch, spoke of a bond that words couldn't fully capture. They didn't need grand declarations or dramatic gestures. Their love was quiet, steady, like the rhythm of the Mantis's engines—a constant in the chaos of the galaxy.

A Moment Beneath the Stars

One night, after the others had gone to bed, Cal and Merrin found themselves outside the ship, sitting on a rocky cliff beneath a sky bursting with stars.

The galaxy stretched out before them, infinite and unknowable. But in that moment, they felt as though they had all the time in the universe.

Merrin broke the silence, her voice soft. "Do you ever wonder what will become of us?"

Cal glanced at her, his expression thoughtful. "All the time. But I try not to let it scare me."

She looked at him, her gaze searching. "And if we fail? If this fight ends in ruin?"

He reached out, taking her hand in his. "Then we'll face it together. No matter what."

Merrin's fingers tightened around his, her touch both grounding and electric. "You are a strange man, Cal Kestis. Always so sure of things."

"I'm not sure about everything," he admitted, his voice quiet. "But I'm sure about you."

For a moment, the galaxy seemed to hold its breath. Then Merrin leaned closer, her forehead resting against his.

"I find myself sure about you too, Jedi," she whispered.

The stars above them burned brighter, as if bearing witness to the unspoken promise between them.

And in that infinite expanse of light and shadow, their love became something unbreakable—a flame that would guide them through the darkness ahead.