She didn't entirely know why, but listening to L4 chattering happily away with Artoo on the Flame's bridge brought a smile to Athara's face. It brought her back to her days as Tamara, for sure...save Artoo's presence, of course. That was new. Her smile widened of its own accord. Newish, at least.

Satisfied that the Flame was happily hurtling through hyperspace, Athara pulled herself from the pilot's seat, perfectly comfortable leaving the ship in the two droids' capable...err, hands. So to speak, of course. They'd be approaching Naboo in the near future and she trusted both of them to notify her in plenty of time to return to the bridge. They were all old hands at this by now, after all, their little group having spent the last several years crossing the Galaxy searching for scraps and traces of Jedi lore to incorporate into their plans for an Academy. It wouldn't be long now, she reassured herself with satisfaction, and they would truly be starting at their calling of rebuilding the Jedi Order.

Well, more than they had been so far, she mused wryly, her thoughts turning automatically to the new generation of Skywalkers Luke and Leia had provided.

With Han's and her help, of course.

She grinned as she stepped into the sitting area of her and Luke's quarters—set up as a workroom, of sorts, given that they had the whole ship to themselves—catching sight of her Farmboy engrossed in his task of maintaining his lightsaber at the table.

He didn't even look up. But she knew that, though he didn't look it, he wasn't as oblivious to her presence as he might have been once. She shook her head fondly. A little part of her missed those days...

So, seemingly unaware or not, it was hard to startle him anymore. Sure enough, before the door had even hissed shut behind her, he was looking up from the lightsaber he had just finished putting back together. Leaning back into the curving, booth-like seat, he held out an arm to her, his invitation clear.

Without hesitation, she accepted, settling herself on his knee, wrapping her arm around his shoulder as his free arm wrapped around her waist.

"What are you working on," she asked quietly after stealing a quick kiss. In answer, Luke absently lifted his hand to Force-call a small resistor from where it had lain on the table. Catching it, Athara peered at the faintly scorched part, her practiced eye immediately recognizing what he'd been doing.

"You burnt out another one?" she teased lightly, setting it in his waiting palm. He huffed petulantly, fingers digging briefly at the sensitive area he knew lay over her ribs. She stifled a giggle, squirming.

"Hey, watch it," he chided playfully back, grinning himself, "or when you need to swap out the one in yours, the box will be mysteriously missing." His bright blue eyes twinkled up at her. She dismissed the threat with an absent gesture.

"The Force is handy for that sort of thing, you know..." she quipped. He chuckled, reaching around her to set the part down and, with a steady wave of his hand, started packing away the tools he'd had strewn about back into their small kit with the Force.

Athara leaned into him as he focused on the light task, placing a few small kisses against his neck. He huffed faintly when one of the microspanners wobbled in midair halfway to its destination, his arm tightening around her waist at the distraction she was causing. Athara pulled back with an impish grin as he chuckled and poked gently at her ribs, wrinkling her nose dramatically. But she took pity on him despite her fun, and instead settled for carding her fingers lightly through his hair as he sent the kit back to its place in the cabinet across the way, her hand coming to rest on the back of his neck.

Once the cabinet door had clicked shut, he turned his attention wholly to her. Athara smiled as he leaned forward to nuzzle her neck, fighting back another giggle at the way his new beard tickled; she was still getting used to it, though she still couldn't understand exactly why he felt he needed to grow a beard at all.

But she had to admit it did suit him and the wise Jedi demeanour he'd been cultivating the last couple years. Her only stipulation to his keeping it was that it be kept neatly trimmed. No Farmboy of hers would have a scraggly beard, after all. He wasn't a hermit... And wisely, he had agreed without hesitation.

Besides, it wasn't so bad, she ceded as he turned her head with a finger against her chin so he could steal a kiss from her grinning lips.

After a moment's indulgence they parted, Athara leaning back slightly in her husband's embrace.

And of course, as she did, Luke's hand fell to smooth over the gentle swell of her belly. Unable to help herself, she smiled at the adoring and faintly awed look that always came over his face when he did that, sensing him reaching out to brush against the tiny, bright presence beneath his palm. She should be used to it, really, but it honestly still delighted her to no end that he was so overjoyed, just as she was; the fears that plagued her the first time had naturally reemerged, but they mercifully held far less power over her this time. Her own hand lowered to cover his and she sighed, leaning her forehead against his as her consciousness brushed against his. Soon enough, the evidence would be clear to everyone else beyond her and her Farmboy to see.

It was a good thing they were on their way to meet up with the rest of their family. It would be a perfect time to tell everyone the good news together.

There was just one person they should probably tell first—

—and as though called, the door hissed open, heralding the giggling little girl in question followed closely by her cheerfully chastising droid companion. N3 chattered after her as Ana darted into the room. Athara exchanged a fondly exasperated look with her Farmboy at their daughter's energy, agreement passing silently between them without even reaching to the Force.

Now was as good a time as any, really. Athara slipped from Luke's lap to settle beside him on the booth-like couch.

Seeing her parents as soon as she rushed in the door, Ana was across the room in a heartbeat and scurrying onto her father's newly vacated lap, burrowing under the arm that Luke had held out to her. Athara fondly brushed back a few loose strands of the little girl's sandy hair, listening to the cheerful chatter with a smile as she recounted her adventures through the lower cargo bay with N3. Her droid companion, however, was quick to assure the two Jedi that he'd only let her look at her father's X-wing when Athara shot him a narrow-eyed look thanks to her daughter's tale.

Luke, on the other hand, only barely stifled a chuckle, softly stroking his young daughter's hair as he listened. Eventually her story trailed off and Ana looked up to first Luke then Athara with her large Skywalker blue eyes.

"Are we almost to Grandma's? I want to tell Ben about flying." Athara felt her lips thin even as Luke lost his fight to keep his enjoyment of their daughter's antics to himself. She fixed her husband with a stern look. Of course he'd taken Ana out in his X-wing...again... But he just shrugged off her scrutiny, his eyes twinkling happily. And truthfully, Athara wasn't truly upset. Not when Ana's eyes practically sparkled in her excitement over the adventure with her father. Really, she shouldn't be surprised that her daughter was destined to be just as hooked on flying as her father and grandfather...and uncle too, come to think of it...

Luke's consciousness brushed apologetically against hers then, assuring her without words that Ana had been perfectly safe—not that Athara had believed for a second that she would be anything but. They hadn't even done any tricks fancier than a loose barrel-roll, a flash of his memory claimed. Athara rolled her eyes; a little part of her doubted that, not given how excited Ana was to tell her cousin about whatever it was had happened the last time her father had taken her up in the X-wing. But she would pretend to believe him for her own state of mind. Her hand smoothed over the faint bump of her belly...with her luck, this one would be just as flight-mad as her father...

Luke's gaze dipped to Athara's hand and his laughter faded, though his happy expression didn't dim. Gently, he nudged Ana off his lap so that she sat nestled between them both, looking up to her father with brimming curiosity. Pride bloomed in Athara; she could feel that Ana had sensed there was something going on even if only instinctively, picking up on their excitement to share the happy news. Perhaps this would work. Luke cupped Ana's cheek fondly.

"Ana, you remember our lessons in touching the Force? In using it to reach out to sense others around you?" Earnestly, Ana nodded, her interest quickly growing in pace with her curiosity. Athara smiled, her hand brushing over her little girl's soft hair, her fingertips meeting her husband's briefly.

Athara let her Farmboy do the talking, still faintly doubtful that this would go as they hoped despite the encouraging start.

They had discussed the best way to break the news to Ana and Luke's heart had been set on this one nearly since the beginning. Athara, though thinking the idea sweet in theory, was more pragmatic. Ana was still so young—just five standard years—and was only just beginning to explore her connection to the Force. She was aware of it and could touch it when she tried, but her touch was still a long way from being even fractionally as sensitive as Luke's or Athara's. Athara had begun her own training when she was just barely older than Ana was now, and she doubted she would've had the sensitivity to do what they were about to ask Ana to attempt; the little bright spot was just so small and delicate within Athara's own presence. Not to mention, at nearly the same age, Ben had taken several tries before he'd been able to sense Ana's existence, even knowing it was there. And though her potential was astonishing in her own right—likely outstripping Athara and coming close to Luke's—Ana's strength with the Force was still less than Ben's; Ben's potential was staggering, possibly even great enough to rival her Master's before he had been consumed by Vader, if Athara was right.

"Now," Luke instructed, gently turning Ana to face her mother, "close your eyes and clear your mind like I showed you; inhale..." Athara felt Ana's mind slowly calm, her delicate features scrunching up with concentration. Sensing the same thing Athara did, Luke smiled. "Good," he praised softly. "Now, reach out, Ana-girl. What do you feel?" Ana frowned, sorting through the vastness of what she could feel as she touched the Force.

"You. Mama," she said softly. Luke's eyes were sparkling as he glanced to his wife. Athara felt her own chest swell with the same emotion for both her Farmboy and her daughter. He was such a natural teacher; patient and intuitive. He nodded, guiding Ana's hand to rest on Athara's stomach. Athara covered the small hand with her own, reaching out with her own feelings to brush proudly against Ana's.

"And now?" Luke prompted and, with his calm instruction, Athara felt Ana's tentative mental touch brush against her own, reaching out. Gently, Athara directed her daughter's feelings where the bright spot nestled, tiny and safe and growing, within Athara's own.

Ana's look of concentration shifted to a frown, her eyes flying open to dart between her parents in surprise. Luke grinned proudly, though he waited for Ana to put together what they could both feel she'd sensed. Athara threaded her fingers through her daughter's fine sandy hair, waiting, ignoring the twist of nerves that had formed in her chest.

Ana looked back to her mother's stomach, her quick five year-old mind working hard as she twisted around to place her other hand on Athara's gently rounded belly alongside the first.

"Am..." she hesitated, looking to Athara and then to Luke and back again with wide eyes, "am I going to be a sister?" A soft gusting breath escaped Athara at the anticipation threading the question. Luke beamed, pulling Ana into a tight hug. The little girl squirmed in her father's arms but was soon hugging him back tightly.

Athara shifted closer, inserting herself into the embrace. As Luke circled his arm around her, Ana wiggled from his lap to Athara's, burrowing into her arms.

"I'm gonna be a sister," she murmured happily to herself. Athara felt her eyes begin to prickle, her throat growing tight with emotion. Though she'd refused to admit it to herself, she'd been worried that Ana wouldn't take the news that she was going to have to share her parents in the near future terribly well. It had just been the three of them her whole life, and Ana had been the sole centre of her parent's world, after all. It would be a big adjustment. Athara felt Luke's lips press against her temple, his consciousness elated and bursting with love as it brushed and entwined with hers.

It wasn't much later when Artoo trundled cheerily into the common area, notifying them that they were approaching Naboo.

At once Ana was scrambling from her parents' laps and was bounding after the blue and white droid to the bridge, the cheeky old thing daring her to beat him. Athara rolled her eyes, not in the least surprised and knowing what was going to be waiting for her once she reached the bridge. It was becoming a bit of a tradition, really. By the door, N3 chortled fondly as he followed after his young charge.

Luke bit back a laugh—failing, of course—as he helped her to her feet before sweeping her into a quick, enthusiastic kiss.

"That went well," he murmured happily as she drew back with a laugh.

"It did," she agreed softly, smiling widely with relief, her cheeks warm from his passionate means of celebrating.

Sure enough, as Athara and Luke stepped onto the bridge, Ana was already securely settled into the pilot's seat, and excited gleam in her bright blue eyes as she twisted to look at her parents.

And Luke was promptly elbowed as he grinned roguishly. Athara once again rolled her eyes. Force, Han had been a bad influence on him...Luke didn't used to be so mischievous; he'd been far too naïve and sweet.

With a firm look and a gentle nudge from her mother, Ana reluctantly slid down off the pilot's seat. But only long enough for Athara to sit down. Ignoring her mother's exasperated huff, Ana clambered back up as soon as Athara had settled, making herself comfortable on Athara's lap. Again, little surprise...sure enough, Luke chuckled beside them as he settled into the engineering station next to L4. Though he choked as Athara sent him a pointed and quite inappropriate comment about what he could do through the Force.

Under Athara's watchful eye and careful instruction, her face set with determination, Ana helped ease the Flame back into realspace. Of course, Athara's hand had been beneath hers and doing the actual pulling on the control lever, but that mattered very little to the excited little girl. All she cared about was that she was helping to pilot the big red corvette. She beamed from her mother to her father before wiggling free and bounding over to Artoo to ask excitedly if he'd seen. Athara could only shake her head at her enthusiastic child, squeezing Luke's hand where it had reached across the space between their seats to land on hers.

It wasn't long before the Flame was safely settled on one of the larger landing pads in the small spaceport that serviced Naboo's Lake Country.

They had arrived.

And even her mother's scolding could barely keep Ana waiting a safe distance back from the hissing boarding ramp as it descended, her hand securely gripping her father's. Not when she'd seen her uncle and her beloved cousin waiting at the edge of the pad.

No sooner had the ramp settled and fallen silent than Ana was pulling free from her father's hold. Athara sighed from her place next to the ramp controls, sparing the astrodroids snickering behind her an unamused look.

"Do you want to stay behind with the Flame?" she threatened dryly. At once the green and blue droids intending to accompany them fell silent, N3 offering a small, bleeping apology. Luke chuckled, offering a hand which Athara took only after leveling him with an equally dry look as she carefully schooled away her own snicker at Ana's enthusiasm to see her cousin.

At least, until Ana's excited voice reached the pair of them. Then Athara could only groan in exasperation at her precocious child...again.

"Guess what, Ben," Ana was crying as she bounded off the end of the boarding ramp to hug the older boy tight around the middle, "I'm gonna be a sister!" Next to her, Luke let out a faint sigh.

"So much for sitting everyone down and telling them together," he murmured dryly.

"That's your daughter for you," Athara deadpanned back. "I blame the reckless Skywalker blood." Luke shot her a playfully affronted look.

"I'm not the only reckless one," he teased back with a wicked grin; she could swear she recognized the expression from her own face...Force, she was responsible for corrupting him too, wasn't she... "or we wouldn't be in this situation, would we. As I recall, you were the amorous one after meeting up with Reem and his crew on Nubia..." She smacked him on the chest for his cheeky innuendo, fighting to keep her cheeks from flaming.

"Not that you complained," she muttered back petulantly, "and we never agreed it was then!" He just laughed though, beneath his beard, his cheeks pinked. Only to retaliate silently with an alternate example sent through the Force that definitely left her cheeks feeling warm...blasted bold, brash, reckless, blushing Farmboy... He bit back a smile at her reaction, instead bringing her hand to his lips.

"Back to your point; she got it from both of us, Milady," he teased, grinning wide at her affronted scowl at the playful pet name. "You just hide it better. So she had no chance." Athara just huffed, unwilling to admit he was right.

But he sensed as much regardless and laughed brightly once more, his thumb brushing lightly across hers in silent commiseration.

Unable to help herself, she grinned then, the sudden absent thought striking her that this time around she was going to make sure she clutched at his artificial hand when the time came; she was still fairly certain she'd genuinely damaged his real one when Ana had been born, no matter his assurances that her grip hadn't been that hard. After all, Force or not to help her bolster her strength and ease the pain that came with giving birth, it had still hurt like nothing else.

...or maybe she wouldn't...in retribution...

Sensing her amusement, Luke turned a querying look to her. But Athara just smiled sweetly and gently squeezed his hand.

A few more months and he'd know exactly what she'd been thinking.

And she tugged him down the ramp after their daughter to greet Han and Ben.

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed! Don't forget to Vote and Comment!

Thanks for reading!