Note: This is an answer to the Wedding Challenge.
Hope y’all like it

Going Home
Aggy

“I never expected to get married. Especially in such
a fashion.”

Leia’s voice filtered across the Falcon’s comm unit,
strangely metallic but still full of laughter. “What
do you expect, Winter? You’re marrying a Rogue. Did
you expect flowers and airy music?”

Winter stared out the viewports of the starfighter she
could only fly with marginal skill. At least marginal
when compared to the man she was about to marry.
“Well, I did expect to be married on the ground…”

“That is still an option, dear,” Tycho’s voice was
soft, as it always was when he spoke to her. Soft and
warm and comforting her despite the decades-old sorrow
that filled her. To again visit their homeworld, the
shattered remnants of their home, during such a joyous
moment of her life added a strange counterpoint to her
happiness. Seeing the hollow vacuum that had once been
the vibrant world of Alderaan added poignancy to the
moment, showing her the definitive moment that had
forged her path in the Rebellion. A path that had led
her to the amazing man who would soon become her
husband.

She smiled. She knew he could not see the expression,
but perhaps he would hear it over the comm unit. “No,
Tycho. This is the right place. This place has been
the focus of so much sorrow; it’s time that we bring
it a measure of joy. It was time to come home.”

She looked to her left and could see Tycho’s x-wing in
position beside her ship. Like two nervous lovers,
she thought, letting herself remember the shyness she
had abandoned when she had became the aide to a
brilliant young senator. “It’s still a rather strange
wedding,” she pretended to grumble, enjoying the
chuckle her complaint elicited from her fiancee. “Why
did the flight suit have to be orange?”

“Because it’s tradition,” countered another voice.
“Rogues wear orange.”

With those words, eleven x-wings emerged from the
silvery grave of Alderaan. Artoo gave a whoop behind
her as he recognized the squadron that had
materialized into view. Absently she gently chided
the astromech as the sight of the starfighters caught
her breath. Deadly and elegant, they arrowed towards
her and her fiancee. One ship flew lead while the
others fanned out behind. They slowed as they neared
until they were only kilometers away, forming a V
behind their leader. Each ship shimmered white
against the velvet darkness of space, the traditional
red stripes of the unit blazing brightly against the
snowy metal.

Winter remembered her view of the ships as Han had
escorted her through the hanger, taking on the role of
the adopted father she and Leia had lost. Each ship
had been given a fresh coat of paint for the event,
causing them to sparkle like child toys lined up in a
toy store desplay. All kill markers, save the death
star emblems that marked both Wedge and Tycho’s ships,
had been masked. Today was a day of joy, but also of
remembrance. That joy was reflected by the
obliteration of the marks of war, a moment of peace in
a turbulent galaxy. Remembrance and triumph
symbolized by black markers that glittered darkly on
the two Rogues’ starfighters.

It seemed fitting that Wedge be the one that presided
over the ceremony. Luke Skywalker may have been the
one that destroyed the original Death Star, but it had
been Wedge who had participated in the destruction of
both of the weapons. And it had been Commander
Antilles who had led Tycho on the fateful mission that
had drawn her to the Rogue. Wedge was her lover’s
wing and one of his closest friends. Who else could
they ask to marry them?

But that didn’t mean she couldn’t tease him a bit
before the ceremony began. “Wedge, I know orange is a
traditional Rogue color, but couldn’t the bride wear
something more subdued?”

“You don’t want to be a Rogue?” Tycho teased, his
voice gently soothing any nervousness she might have
felt.

“Yes, but I wish that there was another color option.”

“Don’t worry, love. You look beautiful.”

She wasn’t sure she believed her groom’s words.
Looking beautiful while dressed in a shapeless orange
flight suit seemed an impossibility. But Tycho’s eyes
had been radiant as he gazed upon her before they had
climbed into their ship, his fingers gently toying
with one of the blossoms Leia had woven into her pale
hair.

Wedge politely cleared his throat, dispelling the
wandering her mind had taken. “Are you two sure that
you want me to…Luke was the first Rogue Leader…”

“A position you took over, Wedge. And you’ve done a
far better job leading them than I ever could,”
Skywalker’s voice was smooth and tranquil but firm.
There would be no arguing with their choice. Wedge
would be the one to marry them. “You deserve this
honor far more than I do.”

Winter looked over her shoulder, but could not glimpse
the Falcon; Artoo beeped happily at her, his optics
flashing merrily. Skywalker’s presence had been a
necessity for this momentous event, as had the
presence of Leia and her family, but it was the
“slayer of stars” that should preside over the
ceremony. And deep in her heart, she was sure Bail
Organa would approve of their choice.

And of course, since Luke had given up his commission
with the New Republic, only Wedge had the authority to
marry them. A fact that she quickly reminded Wedge
of. Everyone wisely remained silent at Wedge’s
embarrassed stuttering over that bit of logic, then
slowly everyone settled, waiting for the perfect
moment to begin.

Finally, Wedge began to speak. “I am not as gifted
speaker as Leia or as wise as Luke, so please forgive
any inadequacies in my words.” His voice gained
strength with each moment until its rich power flowed
over the comm units, filling each cockpit intimately,
giving each listener a sense of harmony. “Today is a
very special moment in the lives of two beings we care
greatly for. And they have blessed us by allowing us
to witness the official bonding of their souls.
Though anyone who knows Tycho and Winter knows this
event happened years ago and today is just a
formality.”

A few of the Rogues quietly chuckled at his words and
others murmured their agreement. “Today may be a
formality, but it is a vital occasion in both the
lives of our friends and for the billions of beings
that can only watch this wedding through the beauty of
the Force.”

Winter sat back against the pilot’s couch, amazed by
the raw depth of Wedge’s voice. Luke must have
coached the pilot in the basics of the Force but the
words and the emotions behind them were genuinely
Wedge’s own. “Today, the spirits of Alderaan gather
to celebrate the joining of two of their children.
The tragedy of the loss of your home gives you a
common grief, but the joy in your hearts give you a
common love. This love, and the love of others
throughout the Galaxy, will ease the sorrow of such
momentous loss and perhaps bring peace to souls that
have only known sadness.

Of course, Wedge would understand grief, Winter
realized. His own family had been lost to him decades
ago. Though not the literal loss of a whole world,
the loss of the only family he had would easily be
akin to the psychological loss of one’s home.

Antilles’ voice gained warmth and Winter could picture
an almost shy smile painted across his features.
“Your love needs no formal vows or validation. But
here, among the spirits of your ancestors and family,
may it be blessed and strengthened.” A soft pause
filled with friendship. “I’m sure they are rejoicing
for you.”

Tears stung her eyes. The words were simple but they
conjured up images of Bail and the adopted family she
had shared with Leia. A hitched breath echoed through
the private comm setting she and Tycho shared and she
knew that her husband felt the same sense of
nostalgia. Then his voice streamed over the public
channel, allowing all to hear his vow. “I love you,
Winter.”

Her voice wavered as she scrubbed the tears from her
cheeks with the sleeve of her flightsuit. “I love you
too, Tycho.”

Applause filtered through the comm unit, crackling in
her ears. “Then no other words are needed.
Congratulations.” Wedge waited for quiet before
adding, “When we land, you must kiss the bride. And
that IS an order.”

As he spoke those words, the Rogues behind him slowly
began moving out of formation into a complex
celebration of the marriage of one of their own.
Weaving and looping, dancing through the velvet of
space, each ship tipping its wings towards the couple,
saluting Tycho and the woman who had become both wife
and honorary Rogue.

End