i saw the sky in you (star wars | amilyn/leia/rey)

[fiachairecht]

i saw the sky in you. star wars sequels, amilyn/leia/rey. contemplations during lightsabre practise. 500w, rated t.

Leia looks beautiful with a lightsaber.

Of course, Rey thinks Leia looks beautiful all the time, and tries to tell her so as often as she can — likes to see the lines around Leia’s eyes transform from worry to pleasure, likes to feel the shadows caught in her Force signature ebb just slightly. She's spent more tactical meetings than she can count with her eyes busy tracing way Leia's hair falls over her shoulder instead of focussing on the holomap, is sure she's turned the same shade of red as Amilyn Holdo's hair when the Admiral has placed a soft hand on her shoulder and given her an entirely too knowing smile.

But loving Leia is the easiest thing in the galaxy and the hardest thing she's ever done, and Rey's grateful to have someone who understands.

If it was only that, perhaps something would be different. But there's something other about Leia with her father's saber in her hand, all the concentration and command she wields so effortlessly condensed down to one beautiful, immanent beam of light that cuts through space without hardly trying. Even in her most profound moments of private grief, the ones Rey still can't quite believe she was allowed to share, Leia was larger than life, stories and love and fear and hope that her body could never contain, and when she moves with unpractised grace through half-taught forms, she is everything.

Rey watches her and is transfixed, transformed with yearning.

She had refused the saber at first, calling it a relic from a family she had never wanted to know, and Rey had hardly had time to begin to understand the compartments of Leia's grief before the saber had flown to her hand and ignited all on its own.

Well, Leia had said, with far more reluctance than surprise. I expect that changes things.

I believe in you, Rey had replied, and only later when they were alone with Amilyn had she kissed the rueful grin away from Leia's mouth. Like this, like anything.

She's learning the shape of different wants now, a different sort of stubbornness. Learning how to lean into the hot press of Leia's hand against her hip as she guides Rey through new exercises, the saber's hum never loud enough to drown out Leia’s whispered good girl. Learning how to let go and fall into the vastness of Leia’s presence in the Force, to join her in the nowhere-time that is only hope.

One day, Leia says, and Rey doesn't think she'll ever understand how Leia makes such a vague future seem so concrete, we'll find a kyber crystal for you. Let you make your own saber.

Rey reaches out from her spot on Amilyn's lap, fits her hand over Leia's heart and feels the steady warmth of unspoken words. One without so much anger, Leia thinks, one without so many memories.

Rey would carry them all for Leia, if she asked, but she likes the promise of new, too.