Light
The Naboo plains opened beneath him like a held breath finally released.
Aiden Porte slowed his speeder as the familiar rise and fall of the grasslands came into view, gold even beneath the pale wash of winter sun. Life Day had reached every corner of the planet, he could feel it long before he saw it. Lanterns glimmered along distant paths like scattered stars fallen to the earth, warm hues of amber and soft blue swaying gently in the breeze. Somewhere far off, laughter carried. Music too, subtle, woven into the air like a second heartbeat. Even the Force felt different here tonight. Lighter. Warmed by intention, by gathering, by hope.
He exhaled slowly, shoulders easing as the tension of the mission finally began to slip away. The galaxy beyond Naboo still burned with uncertainty, politics, shadows, threats that never truly slept, but here, in this moment, there was peace. Not the fragile kind born of denial, but the quiet, earned kind that settled into his bones when he allowed himself to come home.
The homestead appeared ahead, modest and steadfast against the open plains. Snow dusted the roof and clung to the low stone walls, catching the light of the lanterns he'd left burning before his departure. Their glow welcomed him back like open arms. He brought the speeder to rest and sat for a moment longer than necessary, hands still on the controls, simply…feeling.
Arhiia's presence wasn't immediately before him, but he felt her all the same. A steady warmth in the Force, familiar as breath. Grounding. The thought of her waiting inside, perhaps tending the hearth, perhaps lost in thought, perhaps smiling without realizing why, softened something deep in his chest.
Aiden rose and retrieved the small parcel stowed carefully at his side. Two, actually. He handled them with a reverence usually reserved for artifacts or sacred texts, as if the care he'd taken wrapping them mattered just as much as what lay beneath. One was wrapped in deep, muted green cloth tied with a simple ribbon. The other in soft cream, marked by a faint, hand-drawn starburst in the corner. He had wrapped them himself. Uneven edges and all.
As he moved towards his him he gave friendly wave and smile to those of Shiraya's hope in the distance, some of the had invited their families to the homestead to share the time together. It was a good feeling, seeing that they hadn't lost themselves. That they still had faith in Aiden, as well as his visions of the future.
The door opened with a familiar hush, warmth spilling out to meet the cold. The scent of cedar and simmering spice wrapped around him instantly, and he allowed himself a small smile as he stepped inside. He closed the door behind him, shutting out the wind and the world beyond Naboo's gentle borders.
For a moment, he simply stood there, boots dusted with snow, cloak heavy on his shoulders, taking in the quiet hum of home. Lanternlight flickered along the walls, reflecting off polished wood and worn stone. Life Day decorations had been added since he'd last seen the place: a string of lights draped along the mantle, a small woven charm hung near the doorway, catching the glow and scattering it softly across the room.
Aiden crossed to the central table and set the parcels down with care, placing them side by side as if they belonged together. His fingers lingered there a heartbeat longer than necessary. Anticipation stirred, not anxious, not sharp, but warm and hopeful.
"Home," he murmured under his breath, the word carrying more weight than any vow.
Straightening, he unfastened his cloak and let it fall over the back of a chair, the last remnants of the mission finally slipping away. Tonight was not for duty or vigilance. Tonight was for celebration. For warmth. For the quiet joy of giving something of himself to the woman who had become his center.
And when Arhiia would see the gifts, when she would smile, laugh or even call him a jackass, he knew, with a certainty the Force itself could not shake, that every mile traveled and every shadow faced had been worth it just to return here.