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Mon Mothma had helped dismantle an empire.
She had negotiated ceasefires, rebuilt governments, and spoken hope into places where it had once been illegal to breathe.
And yet, she was absurdly nervous about what day it was.
She stood in the doorway of their shared quarters, everything still new enough to feel like a miracle. She tries not to be so tense, holding a small box and wondering, not for the first time, how Kleya had managed to become the one thing in the galaxy that could make her a nervous wreck.
“Mon,” Kleya called from inside, voice dry with amusement, “if you keep hovering like that, I’m going to assume the New Republic has collapsed again.”
Mon let out a quiet laugh, the sound soft against the walls of the room, and stepped inside.
Post Empire life had softened Kleya in ways few people ever got to see. She still wore sharp lines and sharper instincts, but there was a looseness to her now, boots kicked off, sleeves rolled, hair not quite as tightly controlled. She started wearing it down with her natural curls, coincidentally right after Mon mentioned how beautiful she looked with it, which of course she denied being the reason.
Kleya sat at the small table, pretending not to watch Mon too closely, though the faint smile tugging at her lips betrayed her.
Their first Valentine’s Day.
A concept that still felt faintly unreal.
“I know this isn’t really a thing we’ve ever celebrated, well to be fair this is the first year the holiday isn’t overshadowed by the empire” Mon said, already overexplaining, a habit Kleya knew well. “But given everything, I thought it might be nice to maybe try to celebrate, I got a small gift for you, I don’t expect you to have one for me as this is something i’m probably just throwing on you right now”
“I’ve never had a reason to celebrate Valentine’s Day,” Mon shared, her hands tightening slightly around the box. “Never truly been in love, never felt right about the holiday, it always just seemed silly.” She swallowed, voice catching just a little. “But having a real reason to celebrate, having someone special to show how much I love them, and actually having a Valentine. It’s something I always wanted to do.”
Kleya stood, crossed the space between them in three unhurried steps, and gently took the box from Mon’s hands.
“You’re rambling,” she said fondly. “Which means you care so much it’s making you nervous.”
Mon smiled, helpless. Kleya knew her too well.
Kleya unwrapped and opened the box.
Inside was a small piece of jewelry, nothing flashy. It was elegant, not too attention seeking, perfect for Kleya.
Kleya then turned the necklace over in her fingers, studying it more closely now that the initial shock had settled.
It was delicate, far more subtle than most Chandrilan jewelry. Two stones, set side by side in a simple, elegant frame. One pale and luminous, threaded faintly with gold. The other darker, almost smoky, catching the light only when it moved.
Her breath caught.
“Mon,” she said slowly, carefully, “this isn’t just a random decorative necklace.”
Mon swallowed. “No.”
Kleya lifted her gaze.
“The lighter stone is from Chandrila,” Mon continued. “It’s quarried near the southern flats. My mother used to say it was meant to symbolize continuity. Home and safety.”
Kleya’s fingers tightened slightly around the chain.
“And the other?” she asked, though something in her chest already knew what it was, she just couldn’t bring herself to say it.
Mon hesitated, then spoke softly. “It’s from your homeworld. Or what remains of it.”
Kleya froze.
“That planet was listed as uninhabitable,” Kleya replied automatically. “Strip mined, destabilized. Most of the records say it” She stopped, a sharp, disbelieving breath slipping out. “It doesn’t exist anymore.”
“I thought the same,” Mon said gently. “But not everything the Empire erased stayed gone. There was a private Chandrilan trade archive, pre war. I had to pull favors I don’t like admitting to.” A small, apologetic smile. “It took time.”
Kleya stared at the stone as if it might vanish if she looked away.
“They saved fragments,” Mon went on. “Cultural artifacts. Raw materials. Not much. But enough.”
Enough to prove it had been real.
Kleya’s throat worked. “I didn’t think anyone remembered it,” she said quietly.“I didn’t think it mattered enough for you to remember it. I only mentioned it once, in passing.”
Mon stepped closer. “It mattered to you. That made it matter to me.”
For a long moment, Kleya said nothing. She simply pressed the stone to her palm, grounding herself, as if feeling it was the only way to be sure it existed.
“You understand what you’ve done, right?” she said finally, voice low and unsteady. “You’ve tied your world to mine.”
Mon met her gaze without flinching. “That was the point.”
Kleya laughed then soft, disbelieving, dangerously close to being a bit emotional. “You realize,” she said, “I spent most of my life telling myself I came from nowhere.”
Mon reached up, gently fastening the necklace around her neck. “Not anymore.” Mon replied.
The stones settled just above Kleya’s heart.
She covered them with her hand, eyes shining despite herself.
“You’re unfairly good at this,” Kleya murmured.
Mon smiled, warm and certain. “I’ve had a lot of practice loving you.”.
“This,” she said quietly, “is dangerous.”
Mon blinked. “Because?”
“Because if you keep doing things like this,” Kleya continued, eyes lifting to meet hers, “I might start believing I deserve them.”
Mon didn’t hesitate. “You do.”
That earned her a rare, unguarded smile.
Kleya set the box aside, and led Mon back to the table she was sitting at and reached behind her instead, pulling out something wrapped in plain paper. When she handed it over, her fingers lingered just a second longer than necessary, clearly hesitant.
Mon unwrapped it slowly.
Inside was a thin datapad, deliberately old-fashioned. When she activated it, images flickered to life in quiet succession, moments Mon hadn’t realized were being captured.
Mon talking in the senate trying to get votes. A shot of her seated at her desk, staring at nothing, knuckles white around a mug gone cold. Her in the Safehouse on Coruscant, after her speech, lit only by low lamps. Mon barefoot on cold stone, sleeves rolled, hair loose in a way she never allowed in public.
Then Yavin.
Sunsets caught from uneven angles. The curve of Mon’s shoulder as she slept, face soft and unguarded. Mon laughing mid-sentence, clearly unaware she was being watched. Them reflected faintly in a viewport, close enough to blur together. Mon laying on Kleya’s chest, looking more at peace than she ever thought she could.
Between the images were notes, written in Kleya’s tight, precise hand, some crossed out, some rewritten.
Prefers tea way too strong. Hates when it cools before she finishes.
Laughs when she’s overwhelmed, watch for that.
Mentioned she hates synthetic tea, remember to order some from Chandrila for her
She said today she misses the way it smelled on rainy Chandrila mornings. Remember that.
Starts to ramble and over explain when nervous
Mon’s breath caught as she scrolled.
The notes shifted. Less clinical. More urgent.
This is no longer observation.
I should stop, have luthen gather intel instead.
I don’t want to stop, i don’t think i could stop even if i did want to.
Then, smaller.
If I don’t make it and we never see eachother again, remember her like this.
And finally:
I think I’m in love with her, I’m going to tell her at the safe house today before she leaves to Yavin.
I couldn’t say it, I couldn’t be the reason she has a distraction while leading the rebellion.
She looks happier here on Yavin, even maybe happy to see me? Fuck it, I’m telling her I love her.
I think it’s too late to confess my love, I missed my chance, but at least she's still in my life.
“Kleya…” Mon let out a quiet, breathless laugh, pressing a hand to her mouth.
“I didn’t know if I’d ever get to keep you,” Kleya said, her voice steady despite the color rising in her cheeks. “So I kept everything else.”
Mon closed the datapad and looked at her, eyes shining.
“You know,” she said gently, teasing through the ache, “most people write poetry when they fall in love. You built an archive.”
Kleya huffed. “I work with what I know.”
Mon pulled her close, forehead to forehead, holding her like she might disappear if she didn’t.
“You kept capturing moments,” Mon murmured. “Even when you weren’t sure you were allowed to. You loved me back then, even when it was hard?”
Kleya’s arms came around her without hesitation. “It was never hard, Mon, loving you is as easy as breathing.”
Mon pulled Kleya into a deep kiss, trying to convey how much this meant to her. “Thank you, darling, I love it”
When the night wound down, Kleya drew Mon toward the window, where stars stretched endlessly across the sky.
“For the record,” Kleya said lightly, “I still think Valentine’s Day is a ridiculous concept.”
Mon raised a brow, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. “Oh really, darling? And yet here you are, letting me drag you into it.”
Kleya leaned into her, brushing her hand along Mon’s chest. “I admit,” she said softly, “I’m fond of having an excuse to celebrate the fact that you chose me, my love.”
Mon chuckled, tilting her head to press a quick kiss to Kleya’s temple. “I still can’t get over this datapad of yours,” she said, eyes sparkling. “So many pictures, so many notes, I had no idea you’d been keeping all of this. Who knew the galaxy’s most fearsome secret operative could be such a hopeless romantic?”
Kleya laughed, warm and low, letting the sound brush over Mon like a caress. “And who knew the galaxy’s most impeccable politician could be so… overachieving?” she teased, a mischievous glint in her eye. “I mean really? You giving me a necklace with stones from both our home worlds? Careful, Mon, You’re setting an impossible standard for romance”
Mon raised a brow, smiling, her fingers brushing a loose strand of Kleya’s hair behind her ear. “Darling, I can’t help it if I’m hopelessly in love with you.”
Kleya leaned closer, voice soft and teasing, lips just grazing Mon’s ear. “Well, my love, consider the bar raised. You’ve now got some competition from me. Sorry, but that means I’m going to be beating you for best gift.”
Mon laughed, pressing her forehead to Kleya’s. “Oh, is that a challenge darling?”
Kleya grinned, letting her hands linger on Mon’s shoulders. “Absolutely. But don’t worry, no matter how many gifts I give, you’ll always be the brightest thing in my life.”
Mon’s chest tightened, warmth flooding her. “And you, darling, will always be mine.”