-Elope-

They don't hide that they're going away for a few weeks. Jaina tells her uncle that she and Kyp are going to Naboo to research her grandmother, Padmé Amidala, and Sheev Palpatine, the man who became the first Emperor. Research is a good excuse; they're fighting the Sith, and looking into the history of one of the most powerful would be helpful.

Not that either has much intention to do said research.

Naboo isn't far from Tatooine, out on the edges of the Galactic Alliance. The Jedi have a general position of neutrality on GA politics since they withdrew to Shedu Maad. Jaina hopes they won't draw much attention here. Just in case, they leave their robes on the Rogue's Goddess, their lightsabers hidden in their luggage.

Jaina's brought a dress she bought for some state function she never got to wear. Jag never even saw it, so she feels fine wearing it for this.

They rent a small villa outside Theed, on the shore of a beautiful lake. It's spring here, and while it isn't exactly a beach, it's warm and sunny and secluded. There are two bedrooms, one with a huge fireplace and an equally massive bed, and Jaina claims it as theirs.

As she drops her luggage by the bed, Kyp asks, "So, business or pleasure first?"

She turns, seeing him framed in the doorway, and smiles. "Let's do what we really came here to do."

"I agree."

Kyp closes the distance between them. He wraps an arm around her waist, reaching through the Force to check on their child.

"Seems to be healthy," he says. "Though I wish you'd consulted Cilghal before we left."

"I will when we get back. I want this between us for now."

"Okay."

Jaina changes into the dress she bought. It's a pale blue-green that drapes from her shoulders in the back and falls in a layered column to the floor. Abstract twists of embroidery and jewels circle the high waist and adorn the straps across her shoulders. She styles her hair simply, in a braid down her back, with a strand of gems across her forehead.

She sits at the mirror in the bedroom, staring at her reflection. Her pregnancy has already softened the lines of her face a little, bringing back some of the lingering baby fat she'd had as a teenager. Until that moment, she's been unaware of just how much constant war has changed her, hardened her.

Kyp's gone to hire an officiant, and she's alone at the villa. It gives her time to sort through the jumble of confused feelings that suddenly pop up. She has no hesitation at marrying Kyp. But the enormity of it still gets to her.

She'd thought Jag was The One. She's spent most of her life in love with him, to varying degrees, and though they were technically only "together" for a handful of years, the impact he's had can't be ignored. From their first kiss to their last, seventeen years passed. The death of her first marriage is still a scar that's a little tender. She'd wanted to have a family with Jag, and the realisation that they couldn't continue had hit her hard. Part of her has felt like a failure for not being able to make it work.

The contrast of the ease with which everything has happened with Kyp is not lost on her. It's part of what scared her so much the first time: loving Kyp Durron is easy. They fit like puzzle pieces, two halves of a whole, a picture incomplete without each other. Jag was her opposite, and she'd thought that would work; her parents had made it work, hadn't they? But Kyp... He's so much like her. Once the anger and fear after Anakin's death cleared, that boost out of the dark due in large part to the man himself, finding herself in sync with Kyp had been frighteningly easy.

She twists her engagement ring around her finger. On Borleias, when she'd realised that Kyp was not oblivious to her relationship with Jag, that she'd stung him and he was retreating from her, had sent her into a panic. She'd gone to Jag, intending... She wasn't sure what she'd been intending, really. To tell him she'd made a mistake? To ask him to tell her she'd made the right decision? Jaina can't remember now, isn't sure she's ever known exactly what she was thinking. She'd confessed to him that Kyp had feelings for her, that Kyp knew about them and she'd hurt him, and that he was preparing to run.

Jag had been pragmatic, she'd thought, saying they'd talk to him together, convince him to stay. She sees now that it was an excuse for him to mark her as his in front of the older man, manipulate Kyp into staying, make him feel guilty for his feelings, make him think he was being selfish for being hurt and uncertain. Jag was, if nothing else, a master manipulator. She can't look back on it without remembering the feeling of Kyp's hurt and confusion, though she hadn't been able to see his face in the near-total darkness.

Jag hadn't wanted her to talk to Kyp on her own. When she'd posed the idea, when Kyp had expressed it, Jag had shot it down. He'd been afraid she'd change her mind, she knew that even then, and he'd been right. If she had allowed Kyp that then...

Jaina shakes her head. Jag was right; she should have chosen Kyp from the beginning. She smiles wryly, placing the palm of her hand over her stomach. They're certainly making up for lost time, she thinks.

She hopes Jag can forgive her someday, that he can find someone who loves him and is better for him than she was.

There's a knock on the bedroom door. Kyp's returned from the city. She takes a breath to calm the flutter in her stomach. when she opens the door, she sees Kyp is dressed simply in a stylish tunic and black trousers, so handsome with his silver-streaked black hair arranged in dignified curls rather than the bedhead tangle she's used to. When he sees her, his eyes go wide.

"I think you're even more beautiful in that than your other dress," he tells her.

Jaina twirls so he can see the whole thing. "You've already seen me in white. I thought I'd go a little less traditional this time."

The man meets them outside on the broad patio overlooking the lake. He's brought an assistant to witness. Jaina can imagine no better setting, with just them and the beautiful spring lakeside, the flowers planted between the rail and the water's edge in full, glorious bloom.

The ceremony is short but sweet. The officiant pronounces them husband and wife, and they sign a piece of flimsi.

After the officiant and his assistant leave, Kyp pulls a small box out of his pocket. "This wasn't part of the ceremony. I hope you like this."

Inside is a silver ring, curved a little so it will sit better against her engagement ring. The thin line of gems across the top is a deep purple, like their lightsabers.

Jaina snorts a laugh. "It's perfect. But I don't have one for you. I haven't had the chance."

He plucks the ring from the box and slides it on her finger. It nestles perfectly against the Gallinore gem he gave her just days before.

"We'll get one for me," he says. "If you want, we can do that right now."

Jaina admires the ring for a moment, before she flattens her hands on his chest. "Later. Right now, I want to kiss my husband."

He smiles, lowering his head. "Your wish is my command," he whispers. "Mrs. Durron."