Chapter Text
Breha was already there before Bail landed at the Mountain Palace, anxiously responding to his comm that she should meet him urgently. ("I’m fine, don’t worry," another comm had reassured her a few minutes later.) He exited the freighter with a warm bundle in his arms, all 7lb 12oz of it, and they looked wordlessly at each other before staring at their new daughter in awe.
These short seconds were enough for them to know there would not - never - be enough hours in the days and nights for them to get enough of her. To observe her. Softly squeeze the tiny round hands, and hope that she would one day grow to love them as much as she would have her biological parents. Smooth the frown between her soft eyebrows and grieve their recent loss, both for themselves and on behalf of the little girl. Count her toes, brush her hair off her warm forehead, carefully press the tip of their nose to hers and think of all the wonders of Alderaan they would one day get to show her. Bail and Breha had hoped for so long to grow their family that when that day finally arrived, standing there on the tarmac, it felt safe - finally - to envision a future with a child.
Their child.
There wasn’t much of the galaxy they could control, or so it felt - all they could do, as they stood together on the tarmac, was hope she would grow up safe in the midst of political turmoil. But until then, this small child wrapped in a cream blanket and staring at the sky above them like a newborn locat - she was going to be theirs. They couldn’t wait.
In the weeks and months that followed they declined all recommendations to hire a nurse to help with the baby, without a single second of hesitation. Friends and closer advisers gently reminded them there were staff - or droids, ‘at the very least!’ - who could help and save them precious sleep by rocking a fussing baby’s crib in the middle of the night. But even those were received with a polite, but firm, "thank you" - sometimes even a tired but grateful smile, wordlessly thanking them for suggestions that would soon be forgotten by the new parents. Bail didn’t even consider skipping the occasional meeting or summit to catch up on sleep; they both felt, now more than ever, that they should do their utmost to stabilize the galaxy for their daughter’s sake.
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By the time Leia turned five months, Breha found herself particularly tired. Bail had been away on business for weeks in a row, and concerns over the political situation often kept her up at night. And the nighttime routine that had previously worked no longer did, leaving the baby awake and fussing late into the evening and several times throughout the night.
"I’m starting to wonder if she’s picking up on my mood," Breha whispered to Bail one night. It was mid-day for him on Coruscant - the usual lull in-between meetings where he liked to comm his family and steal a glance at his sleeping daughter. "She’s fed and happy, until I try to lull her back to sleep. Then she’ll cry for nearly an hour. It doesn’t help that I'm tossing and turning next to her."
"Perhaps it’s time to move her back to the nursery…" Bail whispered back.
"...and stick to sleep training," she finished the sentence for him. "I know. She hates it, but at this rate neither of us are getting much sleep."
"I’ll be home in two days, that reminds me I have a surprise for her," Bail mouthed, pretending the half asleep baby could hear his words.
“ It will be good to see you,” Breha smiled tiredly, just in time before the comm cut abruptly.
Another meeting starting on Coruscant, another sleepless night on Alderaan.
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The next two days, Breha spent more time in the baby’s room with her, working to get her accustomed to her surroundings. Her staff had recently set up lighter voile curtains for the warm season, and on sunny afternoons Breha liked to sit by the large windows, whispering sweet words to the baby girl on her lap. She liked the way the sunshine filtered in through the golden cloth, and she could swear Leia was enthralled by the shapes that played out on the soft carpet in front of them.
One of the attendants had also placed a basket of plush toys in the nursery, and Breha noticed the little girl seemed to show the same fascination for a bird and a sheep - two slightly old-fashioned little things dating back to the queen’s own childhood. If Breha held her close to the windows and pointed out flowers in the nearby bushes, or clouds running through the sky, Leia briefly gazed at them, before invariably directing her attention back to the sheeny fabric or the animals with their faded colours.
That’s how Bail found them on his return to the Mountains Palace. Before announcing himself, he paused for a few seconds to take in the scene - his daughter offering gurgles at his wife, and reaching for the toys Breha held in front of her with bunched up little fists.
Bail took a few steps into the room and pressed a soft kiss to Breha’s temple. Then, leaning over his wife’s shoulder, he produced from the folds of his robe a blueish, grey soft toy.
"A sea-goat," he whispered, "for my strong-headed little girl."
Leia responded with an immediate coo and, to Bail’s delight, reached for the small animal and clutched it tightly to her chest.
"I think we have a new favourite," Breha laughed.
Bail responded with a quiet smile. The recent weeks on Coruscant had been some of the most tense he had experienced in his career, with meetings fraught with arguments, and he was well aware the current situation wasn’t about to improve - at least not anytime soon. The stories he’d heard about the Jedi Temple had him especially wary for Leia’s future. Brushing his daughter’s soft curls off her forehead, for a second he wished with all his being that the baby they had so long desired would never have a Force affinity - or if she did, that her skills wouldn't reveal themselves for many years to come, and give them enough time to make the galaxy a safer place for her.
Until then, the best he could do was give the baby staring at him with big brown eyes the happiest life they could dream up.
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Breha’s prediction proved correct: Leia remained enthralled with the sea-goat all afternoon. Prying it away from her small hands for her bath didn’t go smoothly and the water toys offered in exchange provided only temporary distraction. The little girl’s desperate glances at the sea-goat, discarded behind them, were so intense that Breha had to stifle her laugh, and Bail muttered something about this being the toughest negotiation he had conducted in his career.
The toy had to be pried away from her once again when the time came for her to be put to bed. Breha placed it back into the basket with the others and closed the windows while Bail, humming a soft tune, deposited a drowsy Leia into her floating crib. In the glowing colours of the late sunset, the room looked a haven of warmth and comfort. They kissed her goodnight, and after a few caresses quietly exited the room - true to their promise of having her sleep on her own in the nursery.
In the floating crib, as the sky outside turned from dusk to twilight, Leia struggled to keep her eyes open - until she noticed she’d been left alone in the room. She furrowed her little brows and her breathing became faster, soon turning to a grumble and large tears rolled out of her eyes. She cried for a minute or two, her back arched on her little mattress, until the moving curtains caught her attention, undulating to the rhythm of a strange, absent breeze behind the closed windows.
Her cries and hurried breathing eased a little, and suddenly her gaze focused on a point above her crib: the sea-goat, floating in the air like a seagull on a gentle wave. Leia’s little mouth tentatively turned up into a smile, then she produced a pleased gurgle and kicked her legs once or twice.
Soon the sea-goat was joined by the little bird and sheep, and the three animals eventually found a circular rhythm above the baby in a gentle, hypnotic dance. In the crib, Leia tried to fight sleep but eventually gave in to the drowsiness, her little arms up on either side of her head.
The toys kept their slow dance for a little while, the pale moonlight casting dancing shadows on the crib - echoing, from beyond the large windows, the slow revolution of the constellations the little girl would one day explore. Then, as Leia exhaled a quiet snore, the toys gently fell to the ground.