#cassleia

He’d try again, but the former princess who bought the candle is asleep on his shoulder. Thankfully not snoring, though Cassian wouldn’t mind she did. Leia has a cute snore, a soft little snuffle as she curls tighter in a bundle of blankets on a cold night…which this night is not.

At least not inside her apartment. Coruscant, as a whole, barely has weather anymore, not as any other planet might track the phenomenon.

So, no, the morning she will soon wake to will not be frosty, despite the candle’s name. It will be winter, though. The first day of a new year.

The first day of another year in this new life they’d found together.

She’d been the one to suggest lighting a candle, while he’d cooked them a very late dinner.The wax melted over the course of their meal, as their conversation slowly turned from the day’s events to hopes and dreams (though, admittedly, Leia shared more of both) for the year ahead.

Only now, when she is asleep, does he find the courage to voice those soft wishes, his voice as unsteady as the candlelight.

“I hope next year is full of many nights like this. With you safe in my arms. With us, together, facing another year ahead. I hope for so much, princesa, but…” he falters. He’s no poet. That trait never came to him, though he’d wished for it on occasions like this. “But this, this moment here, is already more than I ever thought I deserved to hope for. So…”

He trails off.

The candlelight dances.

The chrono strikes midnight.

Leia’s fingers tighten around his, as she stirs, just slightly. Her eyes blink open, slowly, and as she focuses on his face, she smiles. “So dream bigger, Cassian Andor.”

He smiles back at her, at the new year, at all its hopes and dreams.

They kiss, a slow, leisurely embrace, as if they have all the time in the world, and there are no meetings, no pressing problems to solve, no galaxy waiting to be fought for. His arms tighten around her, pulling her closer.

After all, she told him to dream bigger.

What could be a grander dream than peace?

This morning to come might not have frost, but it will be new, and he is sure, with her in his arms, it will be a sweet one.