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“Too many losses,” Leia breathed, her voice threatening to break, “I can’t take anymore.”
Holdo tried to release the lump in her throat. A pain only known to those who had seen decades of war drifted unspoken between them. Years of death and mourning, lost childhoods, fleeting attempts to piece together what was left of the freedom they still fought for. These two friends, a General and a Vice Admiral, their lives defined by casualty and cannon fire. But now was not the time to think about all that had past and all that was yet to come. Holdo had made up her mind.
“Sure you can,” she spoke slowly, “you taught me how.”
Holdo’s thoughts wandered then back to that night in Leia’s Chandrila home so many decades ago.
The war had been over for several years, but even its ceasefire was a frail promise of peace ready to shatter at a single whisper of insurgence. Leia seemed to transition into some semblance of a normal life easily enough. She Married. Returned to politics. Holdo, on the other hand, didn’t know where to go or who to be.
Before the war, she never really fit in among the soldiers and squad leaders. How she sought the thrill of danger, to feel something, to understand what it was like to be alive and cherish every moment. But now that the smoke had subsided, there wasn’t much left to feel.
So, Holdo returned to Gatalenta. It was, in all honesty, one of the worst decisions for her to make. She had spent so long trying to distance herself from her home planet, which stuck so closely to the strict rules of the Jedi. She once found this place so confining with its muted tones and simple outlook on the galaxy. There was no room to dream. There was no space to imagine. But maybe now, it was exactly what she needed.
The captain didn’t try to keep a low profile, stepping through the streets in a floor length flowing sea green gown that hung off of her shoulders. Her long, wavy hair was dyed grey with strands of pink and purple through-out and a large purple flower tucked behind her ear.
She was used to the stares by the civilians in their white clothes and scarlet cloaks meditating in city streets. Thankfully, nobody stopped her as she made her way to her childhood home.
Her home was a simple white rectangle near the heart of the city with three windows carved into white stone and a door painted grey. It had not changed in all these years, one of the only steadfast reminders that something existed outside of war and ruin. She raised her hand to knock on the painted wood without hesitation, fidgeting slightly as she waited for her parents to open the door.
Holdo wondered what they would look like. Would they recognize her? It had been so long since she had returned.
Holdo waited, but there were no footsteps, no signs of life in the house. She knocked again. Annoyed, she was ready to cry out and happily disturb the peace if it meant getting anybody’s attention. Just as she was about to shout over her incessant knocking, an older woman in a simple white dress and scarlet cloak too large for her small form cleared her throat behind her.
“Who are you looking for, dear?” The stranger asked.
“I’m...My name is Amilyn Holdo. I used to live here. This is my home.”
Holdo could not see the stranger’s expression from behind her hood.
“Holdo? Yes. I believe I last saw a “Holdo” in the Garden.”
“Thank you,” the captain called as she turned towards the large field at the end of the city.
The Garden was one of the planet’s many places of meditation. It was an open field surrounded by a body of water that appeared never ending on the planet’s horizon.
On the day Holdo arrived at the Garden, the field was empty save for a few natives who were still meditating after the rising of the suns. It was different from how she remembered it. The field’s small peach and red colored flowers that only bloomed in Gatalenta’s summer and the tall blades of yellow-tinted grass were gone. It was a sorrowing sight. In a city of no color, it was once an oasis.
As she looked upon it now, there were no flowers amidst the grey sea. Instead there were hundreds of meager trees planted neatly in rows. Their thin branches were adorned with white leaves that sparkled in the sun as if it had just rained.
Holdo stepped closer to inspect the fragile tree branches. She noticed that at the base of each tree was a word carved in an ancient script.
“Are you lost?” A meek voice asked from behind her. Holdo turned to see the man who had been meditating on the edge of the field staring at her attire as if she were a creature from the outer rim.
“No. I was told that people I know may be here, but they must have left with the others after the suns rose.”
The man’s face fell and deep sadness touched his eyes.
“What’s the name?” His voice was not much more than a broken whisper.
“Holdo.”
The man nodded and held out his hand for Holdo to take. She allowed the man to lead her through the rows of trees. It was then between the falling leaves and glittering suns that Holdo understood she was walking amongst the dead, preserved forever by only a name inscribed on tree bark.
A single tear crept from her eye as the bleak reality settled in among all this beauty. She let the man lead her to inevitably where she knew he would.
Her parents’ grave was near the edge of the water. The base of the tree that grew there was shrouded in the early growth of black moss that grew only as the summer began to turn to autumn. And at the base, her surname was scripted in an ancient handwriting not seen since the Jedi of old.
“The Empire came searching for answers about rumors of remaining Jedi. Thought they may be here. We--”
Holdo raised a hand up to stop the man from speaking. She knew the rest of the story. She had seen The Empire do this hundreds of times. When the people of Gatalenta told them there were no Jedi to be found, but refused to strip their land of the Jedi teachings, they were punished with fire. All these years fighting this enemy and she couldn’t save her own people.
The man left Holdo at her parent’s grave to deal with the aftermath of war. Holdo stared out to the sea, trying to imagine what it was like when the Empire invaded. These people of peace were not equipped to deal with such forces of hate. It was once what she would find a thrilling dichotomy--that such terror be remembered in this home of meditation.
And for the first time in her life, Holdo was lost. How many times had she prepared herself for death? Welcomed it, even. Now she could only feel the weight of its consequence bearing on those she had loved. For all she had sacrificed, she had not dreamed of losing like this.
Holdo removed the small purple flower from her hair and laid it at the base of the tree, a final attempt to add color to the home she failed.
There was nothing left for her here now. Holdo wondered if there was anywhere in the universe she could go. So, she went to the only place she could think to still call home.
******
Leia’s house in Chandrila was exactly what Holdo would expect from a princess, a leader of a rebellion, and a rising politician of her stature. The chateau by the planet’s largest river was made from blue stone and beige brick etched in architectural elements reminiscent of the Queens of Naboo.
Holdo approached the grand double door entrance. Her lavender dress cascaded down a flight of marble stairs lined with overgrown ivy. She looked around her imposing surroundings, clicking her tongue in approval before tapping her knuckles against the door.
Inside the house was only silence. Holdo sighed, bothered again by this concept of waiting. She quite had enough of knocking on doors with no place to enter. But just as she was about to pivot on her heels, a disheveled looking Leia Organa flung open the door.
The first thing Holdo took in was Leia’s tired eyes, red rimmed and puffy as if she had just been crying. Her hair was brushed up into a lazy, half braided bun like she barely bothered to put in any effort this morning. However, her magnificent pale blue gown that clung to her petite form did suggest otherwise. She looked like a goddess, floating effortlessly despite the weight on her shoulders.
In turn, Leia stared at Holdo, the tension in her eyes softening as she gazed upon her friend.
“Well, I’m glad I brought your favorite tea then,” Holdo cracked, shattering the silence.
She handed Leia a tin of loose leaf Gatalentian tea. It was Leia’s favorite and Holdo could see that was still true after all these years by the way Leia’s heavy eyes lit up. She took the tea with a shaking hand.
“Ami,” Leia sighed, flinging her arms around Holdo’s neck and pulling the exhausted woman into her embrace.
******
Leia handed Holdo the scalding hot Gatalentian tea in a cup fine enough to belong to the people of Zeltros.
“Where did you get this? I haven’t seen this kind of craftsmanship in ages after the Empire consumed so much of it for their own use,” Holdo pondered as she examined the exquisite gold markings engraved into the center of the porcelain.
“Oh, “ Leia hesitated,“one of the benefits of being married to a smuggler, I suppose.” Leia forced out a laugh that sounded brittle, severed.
Holdo made a mental note to dig into that one later. Especially as Leia guided the two women into casual conversation about their past lives. They discussed their best maneuvers. They romanticized the pain and torment that they secretly carried. They gave small smiles and tiny shrugs, working so hard to hide the fear that acknowledging the trauma would be too much.
But Holdo could see through Leia’s facade that she hid behind so well in this grand room littered with trinkets from a gruesome past: relics from the devastated planet of Alderaan; smuggled rugs, vases, and books from the Empire; and war trophies, medals, and gifts hung up on walls and displayed on bookshelves.
Holdo did manage, however, to successfully steer the conversation towards that of her noticeably absent husband, Han Solo.
“We had a child. A-a son,” Leia finally sputtered out, staring into her empty cup of tea.
Holdo’s eyes began to glow.
“Oh? Leia Organa is a mother and you thought to tell me this after two cups of tea?! Congratulations!”
“To be honest, Amilyn, I thought we would be on to the port by now.”
Leia got up to retrieve the wine from what was sure to be a scandalous liquor collection of both the rarest and most forbidden cognacs available in the galaxy. It didn’t slip Holdo’s mind that this was yet another distraction from what was clearly gnawing away at the princess.
Holdo didn’t waste any time after the port was set in front of her. She knew Leia would delve into stories about the wine, where it had come from, the sweeping adventures one of Han’s friends from the war had been on to get it.
“So where is your son? Can I meet him?” Holdo pressed. She bit back a smile as she watched a flash of annoyance cross Leia’s face. Gotcha, princess.
Leia played with her goblet, looking as if she was more interested in how her finger traced the top of the fragile glass than her friend asking about her only son.
“He’s asleep, “ Leia finally answered.
“How old is he?”
“Four. He, uh, turned four last month.” Leia took a small sip of wine.
“Is Han with him?”
Holdo was willing to wait in the silence if Leia refused to answer her. Something had happened that she was trying to hide. Perhaps it was unkind of Holdo to pry, but the captain had never been good at keeping to her own business.
“No.” The princess’s mask began to crack. She placed the wine down on the table beside her, her hands shaking once more. “No, he left yesterday. We got into a fight. Again.”
Holdo could see Leia’s eyes begin to cloud. Lifting up the many silk layers of her gown, Holdo crossed the room and sat on the couch next to her friend. Tentatively, she reached for Leia’s trembling hand, unsure if Leia would reject her touch.
To Holdo’s relief, Leia let her grasp hold of her hand, their fingers slowly intertwining. Each brush of contact radiated warmth throughout her body, the heat threading itself deeper and deeper as Leia allowed Holdo to rip off her mask for good.
And, at last, Leia laid her head in the crook of Holdo’s neck and began to sob.
Holdo let her friend cry. She said nothing as she stammered unintelligible things. She could make out phrases like “bad mother” and “can’t love” and “undeserved,” but Holdo didn’t dare interrupt this brief moment of catharsis to find out. Ever since they had met as girls, Leia Organa was a paradigm of strength. But she had seen too much too young and for too long. A princess without a throne, who had brought an Empire to its knees, but who was never once allowed to mourn.
The sun had set when Leia had stopped crying. By that time, the two were tangled together on the couch, Leia’s face still buried in Holdo’s neck, her leg slightly draped over the captain’s, a mural of pale blue and lavender silk. Holdo’s cheek rested on Leia’s chestnut hair. Her hands had gone to work drawing lazy circles on the princess’s exposed back.
“Ami,” Leia finally whispered. Holdo hummed in acknowledgment. “I’m glad you came.”
More shadows fell upon the grand house on the river until it was encased in darkness, save for the soft light of the Chandrilian moon pouring through the floor to ceiling windows.
“I had nowhere else to go,” Holdo lamented. Her hands stopped on the indent of Leia’s spine. Leia shifted, trying to remove herself from Holdo’s grasp to look into her eyes, but Holdo didn’t allow it. She held Leia tighter still to her body.
Instead of fighting the captain, Leia reached up through the small opening of space between their bodies and began to play with the loose, wavy ends of Holdo’s multicolored hair.
“What happened?” Leia’s voice was a fragmented murmur in the moonlight.
After a moment of silence, Holdo replayed the last two weeks of her life from her travels back to Gatalenta to the beautiful graveyard by the sea. Leia remained quiet, twisting Holdo’s hair idly through her fingers.
“And so I came here. Back to you,” Holdo finished. Tears had fallen long ago and were beginning to dry on her cheeks. The two laid there, emotionally exhausted from their own catharsis, breathing in each other's scents, feeling each other's skin, each other's hair.
“I was never particularly close with my parents. But all this loss…” Holdo whispered through sniffles. “How do I go on?”
Holdo was once agains struck with the realization that she was well and truly lost. Her whole life had been about politics and war. Now, even in this triumph, she was left with nothing but the trauma of forfeited time.
Leia moved, shifting their bodies so that Holdo was now on her back and Leia was hovering over her. At some point, her long brown hair had come undone from her careless braid and dangled into Holdo’s face. Their hands intertwined once more and they moved as they breathed; naturally, effortlessly.
Two women bound together by war who knew the bite of hunger in the deepest winter months, the dull, dragging ache of fear that each day had hid behind their visage like soldiers at the barricade, and the bitterness of loss that seized hold after there was no more torment to possibly take. And it was here, in this darkness, that they shared a kiss as soft as a summer breeze, and, for one moment, were left undamaged by time.
Unthinking, they cascaded into the fury of love and loving, taking and receiving. Leia’s kiss scorched like fire. Her fingers dug into Holdo’s skin. But this fire held no pain. This fire could not destroy.
“Open your mouth, Ami,” Leia pleaded against Holdo’s lips, wanting, needing , to explore her further. Holdo placed her hand back on Leia’s spine, trailing her long fingers down her soft skin, before complying.
Leia’s tongue was hot in Holdo’s mouth and unlike anything she had experienced before. Holdo had her share of partners--human, heptooninian, Ryothian--but nothing felt like this. Holdo felt safe. Invincible.
They rolled off of the couch, not caring about the sting that shot through their bodies as they collided with the rug. What they must have looked like, sprawled out on a stolen remnant of the Empire, layers of colored silk mingled with flesh, hair twisted in the other’s, tears dried on both of their cheeks.
Leia’s hands drifted to the hem of Holdo’s dress bunched up around her thighs. She lifted the silk higher and higher until Holdo took the cue to pull the remaining fabric over her head.
“I should have known you weren’t one to ever wear underwear. You were always the odd one,” Leia teased, flashing her teeth in a devilish half smile at the sight of Holdo laid out naked in front of her. Holdo gasped in mock astonishment that a princess would ever remark on such a thing.
“I’m sorry, your highness,” Holdo teased back before taking Leia in for another kiss. This time the captain took control, guiding Leia’s lips how she wanted them, tasting every part of the princess’s mouth with her wandering tongue.
Holdo’s hands crept up Leia’s back. She undid the tie holding together her dress around her shoulders and felt the fabric fall with ease to reveal Leia’s bare chest.
Apparently, nobody believed in underwear in times of peace.
“My, my princess. And here I thought somebody of your stature would have more decency,” Holdo berated with a smile.
“Decency’s overrated,” Leia bit. Holdo laughed. It was a sound she hadn’t heard out of her own mouth in a long time. She ran her hand across Leia’s stomach. She traced the lines of her ribcage, ignoring hints of the scars hidden in the dark. Leia jolted, a gasp catching in her throat, when Holdo finally found the flesh of her exposed breasts. So sensitive. It was unexpected.
“You’re beautiful,” Holdo breathed. Her fingernails gently touched the princess’s nipples, testing her, coaxing her to go further.
Leia bent down, placing measured, but heavy kisses on Holdo’s neck. She slid a hand across Holdo’s abdomen where she let her fingers linger low enough for Holdo to want.
“Tell me you need me to touch you,” Leia ordered, though her voice wasn’t firm. It carried with it a desire Holdo never imagined she would hear from this larger-than-life woman.
“Touch me, princess,” Holdo exhaled, fidgeting beneath Leia’s fingers.
Leia’s hand began to move lower. She took the time to trace the lines of Holdo’s inner thighs, brushing with the faintest pressure against the beauty marks that dusted her skin. The slightest amount of pressure that Leia allowed Holdo to taste brought Holdo to a near delirium. She had some faint recollection of begging between swollen lips, but it could have been her mind.
Leia slipped a finger inside Holdo’s folds and Holdo couldn’t suppress the deep moan that escaped her mouth when Leia’s fingers found her clit. Leia made a small sound of appeasement against Holdo’s skin when she came into contact with how wet the admiral had been from their foreplay.
Still insisting on torturing the captain, Leia applied the smallest amount of pressure possible to her agitated bundle of nerves. Each small circle around her clit drove Holdo closer and closer to welcomed madness. She could barely make out who she was through the heavy panting and breathing echoing in her ears. Reduced to a creature of want and ruin, Holdo reached up and ran her hands through Leia’s hair, kissing any skin she could find, grasping any piece of this glorious woman she could touch.
Leia’s mouth began to move again as she picked up the speed and pressure to the pace of Holdo’s ragged breathing. She placed open mouthed kisses on Holdo’s breasts, the bones of her clavicle, the soft slope of her exposed neck, until she bit down on Holdo’s nipple with enough tension to hurt.
The captain cried out--at least that is what Holdo thinks she did. Her suspicion was confirmed only by the removal of Leia’s fingers from her folds. But before Holdo could whine in protest, Leia clasped her hand tightly around Holdo’s mouth.
“Do you wish to awake my son?” Leia chided in Holdo’s ear as their bodies rocked against each other without thought, craving the pressure, longing for closeness. Holdo shook her head no. She would do anything, say anything , to have Leia touch her again.
The princess kissed her forehead.
“Good girl,” Leia whispered and Holdo’s body was set ablaze with the praise that went straight to where she hungered for her princess’s attention.
Leia removed her hand from Holdo’s mouth.
“Open,” she commanded. Holdo gave a wicked smile and took the finger Leia had used to stroke her clit eagerly between her lips. Leia watched with wide eyes as Holdo tasted herself, her well-kissed lips engulfing her finger and dragging slowly.
There was a recklessness to what they were doing and she could see Leia was thinking the same thing. What would people think of a married war hero greedily watching a wild woman suck her own come from her fingertips? And the answer was evident in both of their eyes: let them condemn.
When Holdo’s mouth released Leia’s finger, Leia spent no time replacing her finger with her tongue and returning her spit-soaked fingers to Holdo’s pussy.
The captain moaned into Leia’s mouth as Leia worked two fingers inside of her. Her lips continued to muffle all of her moans with kisses as she worked her fingers in and out, finding a rhythm that met the pulse of Holdo’s hips.
In that moment, too fleeting and too brief, Holdo felt the ever present burden of loss transform into welcomed desperation. In that moment, she no longer searched tirelessly for herself. In that moment, all she was lingered there between two lovers in the night, out of time and out of war.
When Holdo climaxed, she broke the kiss to sing muffled screams into Leia’s hair.
“Good girl,” Leia cooed against Holdo’s neck. And it was the most bizarre feeling that crept through Holdo as she let her orgasm move through her. Home. This was home.
Although her body felt like jelly, Holdo pushed Leia’s shoulder so that she could take the position on top. She made quick work of detangling Leia from the gown still gathered at her hips.
Holdo trailed kisses down Leia’s naked body, ghosting her lips lower and lower. It was messy and frenzied as Holdo moved without thinking, only wanting to taste all of her, to savor anything she was allowed, to cherish anything she was offered. Holdo could hear Leia curse under her breath when she realized what Holdo was going to do.
“Maker,” Leia panted, tangling her fingers once more into Holdo’s locks of chaotic colored hair.
The captain slowly placed kisses on Leia’s stomach, stopping just before her lips could wrap around Leia’s clit. She was pushing for Leia to say it, to beg for her, to let go--just as Leia had granted to her.
For several moments, the moonlit parlor was filled only with the sound of their breathing, deep and frayed at the edges.
And finally, sweet release.
“Please,” Leia pleaded, eyes sealed shut, hands bunched into the rug, “Please, Ami.”
When Holdo’s tongue swept across Leia’s clit, she could feel Leia instantly drift apart. Her body molded into the floor, sinking down, down, down like a weight in the ocean. And Holdo could tell she was unaware of the soft moans she was making as she absentmindedly twisted her hands deeper into Holdo’s hair almost enough to hurt.
Holdo lapped mercilessly at the princess’s folds, sucking and probing the tip of her tongue against her clit. She didn’t take her time. She ached to see the princess shatter into a million pieces at her release and feared Leia overthinking herself and retreating again behind walls.
She continued to praise Leia with her tongue as she pushed two fingers inside of her. The princess gasped. She was so wet and wanting, breaking apart willingly with each thrust of Holdo's fingers and flick of her tongue.
And when Leia came she screamed into her hand, her body writhing against the rug. Every emotion released quickly and violently through her orgasm like water breaking free from a dam.
Through her ecstasy, Holdo could make out Leia’s voice softly whispering to herself.
“You’re here. Here with me…” her voice trailed off into another small sob muffled against her hand. Holdo got the vague sense that Leia was talking only to herself, or perhaps to the ghosts in her head, processing the grief of all those who had passed.
They both came down and back to each other eventually. Their naked bodies remained pressed together on the chateau floor. They did not say a word as they drifted to sleep in the moonlight. There was nothing to be said in the silence of loss and catharsis of love.
******
They both awoke to a shrill cry of a child in the middle of the night coming from somewhere up above them.
“Ben!” Leia tried to shout, but her voice had gone hoarse. She shot up, threw on her dress, and ran out of the room before Holdo could realize what was going on. Collecting herself, Holdo covered herself once more in the lavender fabric and went to follow the sound of the wailing child.
Holdo found both of them in what must have been the child’s room. Leia tried to calm the boy down by holding him to her, but the boy was screaming and crying into Leia’s gown.
The captain sat down on the other end of the bed, searching Leia’s expression for anything she could do to help. She was surprised by what she saw.
She expected to see sympathy for the crying boy. Simply, he must have just had a bad dream. But Leia was terrified. Her eyes darted around the room as if she was searching for a well hidden enemy.
“It’s alright. Nothing is going to harm you.” Leia’s attempts at soothing the child were unconvincing as she spoke sweet words in shaky whispers. Holdo felt like she was intruding on a moment clearly much larger than her. Why would someone like the last princess of Alderaan be so terrified of the dark?
Holdo lifted her hand to the boy’s back, to calm him, or maybe to calm herself, she wasn’t sure. As soon as she touched the child’s shirt, his screams stopped. He sunk into his mother’s arms, exhausted, inhaling and exhaling deeply.
“He has Bail’s black hair,” Holdo commented in an attempt to break the tension in the room.
Leia’s eyes somehow grew even wider.
“Y-yes. He does.”
Leia averted her gaze from Holdo’s questioning stare. Secrets. So many secrets. And tonight wasn’t the time to try to pry those secrets from Leia. If Holdo knew one thing about her childhood friend it was that she only ever held secrets if there was good reason.
His name is Ben?” Holdo asked after the child had fallen asleep in Leia’s arms.
“Yes. He’s named after a good friend of mine. And Han’s.” Leia smiled, but in the way her stare drifted, Holdo could sense she was reliving a memory that made her heart ache. “Han got his way with his middle name, though.”
Holdo raised an eyebrow.
“Chewbacca.”
The two women laughed, controlling their voices so they would not disturb the child.
Holdo moved closer to Leia on the bed so that she could see Ben’s face.
“That one’s a troublemaker. But he has your heart.”
Leia’s eyes were black. Fear. She was so terrified of being a mother, of failing this new journey she knew so little about.
“You think so?” Her voice was full of hope. And dread. Secrets.
“I know so.”
Holdo leaned in, closing the distance between them once more, to place a kiss on her princess’s lips.
******
Holdo retreated from her memory, the feeling of Leia’s lips lingering on her own as she stared out at the Resistance fighters on the transports. She grasped Leia’s hand. Skin to skin once more, Holdo let the sensation of Leia’s touch take over her senses. She knew this could be the last time she ever felt Leia’s warmth again.
“I love you,” Holdo whispered for only Leia to hear.
Leia searched her expression, trying to find any crack in Holdo’s resilience to talk her out of the sacrifice she was about to make.
And Holdo knew in a second that Leia would take her place at the altar of war. Both of them were ready to be sacrificed for a cause greater than the galaxy; greater than the night shared between them all those years ago. But Leia had so much more to achieve.
“Go to your son,” Holdo urged, squeezing Leia’s hand. And there is was--the fear and the hope she had seen so many years ago. “He has your heart.”
Doubt pained Leia’s eyes, but Holdo knew that she was not one to give up hope no matter how dark the path. The general knew more than anybody else that love could end the most violent wars and heal the deepest scars.
Holdo placed a kiss on her lover's forehead, a final goodbye.
Home.
******
In the pilot’s seat of the star cruiser, Holdo looked out to the sea of stars glistening like the sunlight on the water of Gatalenta. She didn’t hesitate as she launched the cruiser into hyperspace for the fatal collision with The Supremacy. This was, after all, what she had always been prepared to do even as a child lost to war.
And as the galaxy ignited in white light, she thought only of soft kisses in the darkness where, for a moment, she was found.