Work Text:
She spies a child — yet not a child — playing beneath the branches of the Force Tree.
It’s a child, full of life, curly brown hair adorning his head and the sweetest eyes.
But it’s not a child, either. It’s not a ghostly blue hue surrounding the child, but instead it’s warm, golden, shining like the sun.
She’s only seen the color once before.
It’s the same gold that surrounds her husband.
The child turns and smiles at her.
The hand that had been grasping the ring at the end of her necklace drops to her stomach and she smiles back.