[Third Person]
That night, the Theed Palace was silent. The strategy meeting had ended, leaving everyone with a plan of action and a slight feeling of existential dread. Rick had retreated to his makeshift lab, grumbling about "tyrants in designer footwear." Anakin and Kit Fisto were meditating, trying to find peace in the Force after a day that had defied all logic.
Kaelen found Padmé in her favorite spot: the balcony overlooking the hanging gardens. She stood, arms crossed, gazing at the illuminated city. She didn't look angry, but rather... tired. Tired of being the adult, the diplomat, the anchor for a group of incredibly powerful but emotionally childlike beings.
He approached her in silence, his heart heavy. He hated being the cause of that look on her face.
"Padmé," he said softly.
She turned, her expression gentle but distant. "Kaelen."
"I'm sorry," he said, and the sincerity in his voice was absolute. "About earlier. In the briefing room. You were right. It was... childish. Unacceptable. You have the weight of a war on your shoulders, and I act like a child fighting over his toys. It's not fair to you."
Padmé sighed, her posture relaxing slightly. "I'm not angry, Kaelen. Just... exhausted. Sometimes I feel like I'm the only one trying to hold this strange, chaotic ship together."
"I know," he replied. "And it's my job to help you navigate it, not to punch holes in the hull." He paused. "That's why... I've been working on something. For you."
From his pocket, he pulled out a small device. It wasn't a weapon. It was a sphere of polished metal, smooth and without apparent buttons.
"Another one of your inventions?" she asked, a shadow of a smile touching her lips. "Is it going to turn the air into ice cream? Or make me understand Jerry's politics?"
"Something better," he said. "I call it the 'Serenity Projector v1.0'."
With a gentle touch, he activated the sphere. It rose from his hand, floating silently in the air between them. And then, from the sphere, a soft light began to emanate. Hundreds of tiny points of light burst forth, like luminous seeds, and took shape.
They weren't mere holograms. They were butterflies.
Butterflies made of pure golden and blue light. They fluttered silently, filling the balcony with a magical, warm glow. They weren't ghostly projections; they had a presence, an ethereal solidity. One of them gently landed on Padmé's outstretched hand. She felt a slight, warm tingling. When she moved her hand, the light butterfly dissolved into a shower of stardust, and another took its place.
Padmé looked at him, her eyes wide with wonder. "Kaelen... it's... it's beautiful."
"They're hard-field photons, held together by a zero-point energy loop," he explained, his engineer side showing. "I programmed their flight patterns based on Earth's monarch butterflies, but with a slight tendency to avoid hitting walls. It's a work in progress."
He stepped closer to her, his gaze serious and filled with love. "I designed it for you. For moments like this. When the weight of the galaxy, and of two idiotic geniuses, gets too much. So you can have a small corner of peace, a garden of light that's just ours, no matter what universe we're in."
He cupped her face in his hands.
"All this power," he whispered. "All this knowledge I have... it means absolutely nothing if I can't use it to make you smile."
The tears Padmé had been holding back finally rolled down her cheeks. They were tears of relief, of love, of happiness. She laughed through them.
"It worked," she said, her voice choked with emotion.
He smiled, wiping her tears with his thumb. "The main mission has always been that."
He wrapped his arms around her, and they kissed amidst the swirl of light butterflies. Padmé's weariness faded, replaced by the warm certainty that, despite the madness, despite the danger, the man she loved would never lose sight of what truly mattered.
"I promise to try to behave better in meetings," he murmured against her lips.
"Don't try too hard," she replied with a playful smile. "I rather enjoy reminding everyone who's really in charge."
He chuckled, and the sound mingled with the silent flutter of the stars. The war could wait. For that night, on their balcony, in their home, they were surrounded not by chaos, but by the simple, pure magic they had created together.