Binary Sunset | SW Oneshots

Candlelight

Medieval Obitine Ballroom Dancing? Hell yeah.

also I'd just like to say that I absolutely love this AU, even if it makes close to absolutely no sense

I originally planned to make this longer but... I didn't

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A hand in his. So delicate, so soft and cold to the touch. A hand in his, his to hold.

By the end of the night, he'd be lost by candlelight.

She'd have found him by the same.

It was a calm, warm night; People filtered in and out of the courtroom, men and women dressed pretty alike and the same. Obi-Wan - Ben, as he was regarded by most - scanned the room as they came and went. Most simply entered and mingled with their friends for a while before leaving, alone or... otherwise.

While others - Anakin and Ahsoka came to mind - would've found this steady flow of people boring, Obi-Wan found it rather peaceful. Where he was usually a knight, guarded and on-edge, he could relax into the charming gentleman that preferred to slow dance, rather than fight.

However, he'd spent much of the evening on his own. Of course, people had approached him and asked him to dance, but all he could do was turn them down. He didn't know what it could've been - all the lords and ladies he'd spoken to that evening had been fine, lovely people. And although he could owe it to him being a knight, none of them felt... right.

Were he younger, his reservations might not have bothered him. However, they did now, and he preferred to listen to his instincts and politely turn down anyone whose eyes didn't seem to shimmer with the stars.

He'd made a promise to himself never to hold someone who didn't fit right. If that meant dancing on his own, he was perfectly fine with that.

Leaned against the wall in the very back of the ballroom, he must've looked indifferent - which, he supposed, he was. In one hand, he held a wine glass, rimmed by gold and half-full of a gently sparkling, rose-gold beverage. His other hand was tucked somewhere away in his crisp black pants-pockets. There, he held himself, scanning the room underneath the dim light.

Emanating from somewhere - likely the balcony just overhead - was a light and fluttering tune; the sounds of piano, violin, and cello, perhaps, working in unison to add to the warmth of the atmosphere.

Obi-Wan couldn't help but think how he always wanted to play the piano. Piano was such a serene activity, much nicer than knighthood. He'd never been given much of a choice for his future, but he liked to think that if he could go back, maybe he wouldn't be here as a knight or a gentleman. Maybe he'd be here as a pianist, lost in gentle melodies. He'd still be doing something good for someone, wouldn't he?

Maybe that was all he wanted.

Suddenly, the chatter around the ballroom quieted, and everyone turned towards the marble staircase that he hadn't realized he was standing right next to. A light ringing - like glass against glass - echoed throughout the courtroom.

A voice began to speak - a voice reminiscent of coolly stained glass, something smooth, pristine and graceful. Almost delicate, too, like a lily in the taiga. It fit so well with the warm candlelight that glowed dimly like a caramel-colored windowpane, bringing a certain atmosphere to the grand courtroom. It was a sensation of some sort; something he could hardly name, however when he heard the sound of bells they rang like sheet music.

He decided to pull himself from his thoughts just before he delved too far and actually listen to what the lady - who just had to be the owner of this beautiful estate, Duchess Satine - was saying.

"I'd like to thank you all for being here. It is such an honor to hold you all at my manor, and hosting this evening has been simply lovely. Now," He could almost hear the genuine smile in her voice, "carry on!"

As everyone turned back towards one another, the light conversation and elegant music picked up once more. Obi-Wan heard footsteps tapping down the stairs, and he waited with some form of anticipation for the Duchess to reach the bottom step.

Once she stepped into view, Obi-Wan's breath nearly caught in his throat.

She seemed to take notice.

She looked directly at him with pale, blue, starry eyes and a warm smile. She began making her way over to him.

"Hello," She curtsied before him, lifting the bottom of her teal velvet – was that velvet? – skirt just above her ankles. "Who might you be?"

He struggled with the initial shock of her taking interest in him before he forced his posture to relax – quite an interesting contradiction, he noted. After setting his glass down on the dark-oak table beside him, he bowed, lifting her knuckles to his lips. "Ben Kenobi, Jedi Knight. At your service, my lady."

She was either amused or flattered, Obi-Wan couldn't tell. He peeked up at her as she smiled at him, her hand covering her mouth but her eyes giving it all away – she found this man very intriguing.

Perhaps it was that glimmer in her eyes, but he couldn't seem to look away. He straightened his spine with a polite smile, eager to play his part in whatever the Duchess was thinking of – whether that was that he became one of her knights, or that he simply followed her around for the evening as her guard.

Satine herself had simpler ideas. She really didn't care all that much about whether or not he was a knight. She didn't care to whom he was loyal, nor did she care about his ranks or titles. If he was a knight, he was a gentleman first and foremost.

She cocked her head as the violin and cello quieted, and the pianist began playing a new melody. An idea popped into the Duchess' head. "Well, Sir Kenobi, how about a dance?"

Obi-Wan gazed around the ballroom – The center of the floor, just beneath the crystal chandelier, had already cleared of people. There was plenty of room for a dance like this.

Obi-Wan smiled and gently kissed her knuckles once more. "It would be my pleasure."