General
The snows atop the Gallo Mountains still lingered, but they softened with each passing day. Life Day had come and gone, and Dee'ja Peak was settling back into the steadier rhythm of what followed, the quiet work of mornings, the reopening of routines, the gentle letting-go of revelry without losing the warmth it had left behind. Birds wheeled high above the rooftops, calling to one another in quick, bright bursts. The cold that had claimed Naboo for the season was beginning to loosen its hold.
Cassian had been home more often, true to his word. And in ways that were difficult to name, it felt as though the air itself had eased. Less heavy with doubt. Less crowded by uncertainty. There was laughter where there had been silence, and joy that didn't feel forced, just…returned.
Their family had much to be grateful for.
Academy studies had started again, and Elian was heading back for another semester. Cassian and Sibylla were there to see him off. It wasn't a grand occasion, not in Elian's eyes, just a departure, like any other. But Cassian couldn't help himself. Eldest brothers didn't survive on restraint.
He pulled Elian into a hug, firm and brief, and then kept a hand on his shoulder as the younger man climbed into the speeder, his speeder, this time, the first trip on his own.
"Please be careful," Cassian said, voice low enough to be only for him, even as his eyes stayed sharp and watchful.
Elian laughed and shook his head, like caution was a polite suggestion rather than a genuine concern. "Oh, you know me, brother," he said with bright certainty, grin already in place. "I'm going to have the greatest first day back."
He glanced between Cassian and Sibylla, a flourish of drama gathering in his posture as he powered the speeder up. The engine's hum cut cleanly through the crisp air. Then, like he couldn't resist turning an ordinary goodbye into a performance, Elian nudged the controls and began to circle them, once, twice, close enough that Cassian's coat shifted with the wake of the repulsors.
"And later today..." Elian called, voice carrying, "we shall celebrate...." He arced around again, laughter in his words, mischief in every movement. "....my triumphant return," he declared, "And the fact that I didn't get expelled for blowing something up."
Cassian's expression tightened on instinct, half exasperation, half fondness, but he couldn't stop the corner of his mouth from pulling up. Elian raised a hand in a carefree salute as the speeder straightened for takeoff.
"Love y'all," he said, as if he were leaving for an afternoon errand instead of a semester. "Bye!" And then he shot forward, the speeder lifting cleanly, carrying him out over the snow-bright edge of Dee'ja Peak and into the thinning winter sky.
Cassian watched the speeder's fading silhouette until it became little more than a dark fleck against the pale sky, and even then his eyes lingered a moment longer, long enough to ensure the line of flight stayed steady, long enough to let the last of his instinctive vigilance unwind.
Then he exhaled, shook his head, and laughed under his breath.
"Triumphant return," he echoed, as if the phrase itself might be a protective charm. It was easier to smile when Elian was still close enough to be seen. Easier to believe in the simple things, first days, safe landings, celebrations that didn't carry an asterisk.
He fell into step beside Sibylla, their boots crunching softly over the packed snow, and together they started the slow walk back toward the house. Dee'ja Peak felt quieter now that the speeder's hum had vanished, the kind of quiet that pressed in gently rather than sharply. The wind moved through the evergreens with a low sigh, carrying the faint scent of pine and thawing ice.
Cassian kept his hands tucked into his coat pockets, shoulders relaxed, but his mind had already shifted, sliding from brotherly amusement into the weight of everything that had been waiting beneath the surface since Life Day ended. Since the celebrations stopped filling the gaps with noise.
He glanced at Sibylla sidelong, careful not to sound as tense as he felt.
"How is Aurelian?" he asked.
The question was simple. It wasn't, really.
Cassian could imagine it too clearly, what it must have felt like to be pushed aside so, so cleanly, Ravion finally playing his hand and forcing the title of Interim Chancellor out of Aurelian's grasp. It wasn't only the loss of position; it was the message behind it. Aurelian had been useful until he wasn't. Necessary until he became inconvenient.
And yet, Cassian's thoughts tugged toward the uncomfortable truth, Veruna had done well as Interim Chancellor. Better than many would have managed in a chair that was never meant to be stable. Veruna had steadied what could be steadied. He'd kept the Republic from lurching too far in any one direction while everyone else watched to see if it would crack.
Cassian didn't enjoy admitting it, but he trusted competence when he saw it.
Still, it didn't change what had been done. It didn't soften the fact that Ravion had made a move bold enough to redraw the room and force everyone to choose where they stood. Cassian's gaze tracked the path ahead, the familiar line of it leading back toward the house, toward warmth and stone and the illusion of normalcy. Despite everything, they were still standing. The family was still together. There was laughter again. But that didn't mean the threat had passed. It meant it had shifted.
