Being a war hero means constantly living up to the title. Fighting battles with his clone troopers on planets that seem to be more miserable with the Galactic Republic being there to help them when the Separatists are invading. And the HoloNet being constantly on the tail of every single thing that happens.

When a young James was send to the Jedi Temple of Coruscant, he had a good idea of how or rather what he wanted to be. Compassionate, yes. Mindful, definitely. And non-attached – once. Before he knew what it was like to crave more than just companionship, to want something he could never have. It didn’t help his case that he loves his friends. His fellow Jedi Knights and Masters, even the Younglings. And a certain Jedi Knight.

“Told you,” he grinned down, placing his foot on your arm that held your lightsaber.

The training room smelled faintly of sweat and the lingering energy of past duels. Gray mats covered the floor, benches lined the walls, and training sticks sat stacked in the corner. His robes were tossed aside – not that he ever sparred in them if he could help it.

A quick session, you had said. It’ll be fun, you had said with a smile. And that smile – James had known exactly what it meant. A little friendly competition. Not that he minded. With his former Master still keeping a watchful eye on him (not that James was complaining), any chance to break away, even for a spar, was a welcome one.

“If we were on Felucia, like we were supposed to,” he remarked, to pry your lightsaber from your grip, sending it into his hand with ease. “You’d be done for, love.”