A/N: I'm not even sure what this is.
Blue.
It was a beautiful, calming color.
It, much like the color brown, spoke of life and nature. Of goodness and health.
The color could soothe and ensnare one's admiration in the most elegant way on a subconscious level.
The boy's eyes were blue. The strange little boy from Tatooine.
He had such beautiful blue eyes. It was the first thing she noticed.
How odd it was, she thinks, that such a harsh, unforgiving desert planet was the home of such oceanic blue pools.
She likes how when the boy, Anakin, laughs his eyes sparkle. Like a body of water on a nice summer day.
It fits him. It lightens her heavy shoulders, if only a bit.
Though she is too young to truly think of such things,
she briefly entertains the idea that one day she would like to have a son like him.
Blue.
It was supposed to be a beautiful, calming color.
And it was, for the most part.
When she meets him again his eyes are still blue. The color of goodness.
Yet, they've changed, slightly.
They are a bit wearier, a little darker, maybe.
But still very beautiful. Of this there is no denying.
The most noticeable change, the change she recognizes instantly upon seeing him again is how intense they've become.
Blue has always calmed her, but now looking at him as not a boy, but a man, she finds it does not.
It makes her shiver slightly.
It makes her long for his closeness and warmth.
Though neither she nor he are in such positions to truly think about the idea,
she briefly wishes that those intense, startling blues would gaze at her and her alone forever.
Orange.
It is one of the colors one finds in a blazing flame.
It is one of the hues you can find in a blinding, violent star.
This color does not calm her, nor does it amaze her or leave her breathless.
Blue.
His eyes are meant to be blue, she repeats this to herself again and again.
As if making it her mantra will either wake her from this horrible dream,
or force his irises to change back to that beautiful shade she'd always adored.
This is done, her mind screams as he snarls and spits venom laced words at her.
He says she has betrayed him.
But she hasn't! How could she? She loves him.
There is no trace of blue. No trace of him.
This is done, her mind screams as some invisible force wraps itself around her windpipe.
The lack of oxygen makes her head throb and her vision blur.
The tears help that too.
Her heart yearns for blue.
She already forgives him. How couldn't she? She loves him.
Blue.
Beautiful, innocent, majestic.
Her son, her light, is born with blue eyes. Vivid, wonderful blue.
How long she has waited and wanted a little boy just like him.
Her daughter is equally as beautiful and perfect.
While her son will be the galaxies' light,
her daughter will be their warrior.
She is dying she knows, but her children will carry on. She feels it in her heavy bones.
She doesn't have the Force, but her children do. She hopes they hear her now, in her final moments.
She silently asks for her darling warrior girl to remain strong, to fight for her beliefs and loved ones.
And tells her to never give up hope. That she will do many great things.
Leia screams, as if the burden that has been placed on her hurts her shoulders.
But she will listen to her mother.
With the Senator's waning strength she sends her last coherent thought to her light, her blue eyed babe.
All she wishes for is for Luke to do what she could not.
She wants him to save his father.
To bring out the good she felt inside of him, but could not reach.
The male infant's irritable wails tapper off into a sniffle.
For the first time he looks at his dying mother.
She knows he has heard her request, and though he will not remember her or the plea,
he will succeed,
and Anakin will one day return.
Her life drains slowly, painfully from her body.
The white light of the med-center becomes softer as her vision hazes.
The lifeless, sterile white echoes out.
Instead as she dies,
she sees
blue skies.