The One Less Traveled
By Susan Zahn
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I –
I took the one less traveled by
And that has made all the difference.
— Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken
Chapter 1 — The announcement
After watching with muffled amusement as Leia Organa attempted for the third time to slide the entrance key into the narrow slot beside their apartment door, Han Solo reached around her to gently take the key away. "I think maybe somebody's had a little too much to drink."
She sent him a rather messy version of her usual indignant glare as a reward. "I've only had just enough, thank you very much. It's not my fault if they make these —"
Having mastered the art of navigating with a strong buzz during his less prestigious days as a youth, Han already had the door open and was guiding his now official fiancé into the reception area of their suite.
"— things so difficult to open," she continued to protest after the fact. She successfully passed through the doorway, but then stumbled on the pattern in the carpeting. Han was in the right place at the right time to catch her, keeping her from landing in an unregal heap at his feet. Now clinging to him, she giggled. "You. Are. Good at that!"
"Years of practice, Sweetheart. I also think it's time I put you to bed."
"Now that is the best idea I've heard all night!" Leia proclaimed, beaming up at him as her fingers started working at his belt and the closures of his dress pants. Han wasn't entirely surprised to see she was much more successful with that task than with the door a moment earlier.
Under normal circumstances he would be game for that sort of spontaneity, but tonight Han was all about comfort. In one smooth move, he scooped the petite woman up in his arms, and then walked through the main living room toward the bedroom at the far end. "Come on, Your Highness. I'd rather carry you now than carry you later."
With one arm around his neck, she flung out the other to sweep the room in a grand gesture. "This is so much better than a hovercab. I insist you carry me everywhere from now on."
Rolling his eyes, Han chuckled. "Right. I'll mention that in the morning when you're sober." He maneuvered them through the narrower door and into their sleeping chamber, and then deposited her on the foot of the large bed.
She fell back onto the bed and her bare arms flopped out at her sides, then she let out a heavy sigh before growing very still. "Ohhh, Han, I think the bed is moving."
"That's what I was afraid of. Just hang on, take a deep breath, and for Kreth's sake, don't close your eyes. I'll be right back."
As Han made for the private fresher attached to bedroom and began running the cold water tap to fill a glass and then dampen a small towel, he was reminded of another time, during the early years of the war, when their cell of the Rebellion had been based on Serricci.
The discovery of Luke's and Leia's simultaneous passage into Majority had triggered a party that had resulted in a similar situation. Of course, their relationship at that time couldn't have been any more different, but with the lifting of normal inhibitions, their undeniable attraction and deeper desires had come to the fore. Had he been a man of lesser morals, he might have taken advantage of the situation back then, but a combination of respect for her, a growing need to gain her approval instead, and a solid sense of self-preservation had held him in check. In retrospect, that had proved one of the early watershed moments in their zigzag of a romance, even if she'd displayed little recall of the event afterward and their progress had been teeth-grindingly slow over the following year until that mission to Ord Mantell.
His bride-to-be packed so much personality into such a tiny frame that sometimes Han forgot how low her intoxicant tolerance could be, particularly on nights like this when they had a reason to celebrate and the drinks flowed freely. He probably should have monitored her intake a little closer, but like everyone else, he'd been caught up in the joy of their announcement and nobody had gone with an empty glass for long; now he just hoped this perfect night would not be topped off with a puking princess.
With water and towel in hand, he stepped back into the room to find Leia hadn't moved. She remained sprawled out on her back, legs dangling over the edge but not quite reaching the floor, her hands bunching up fistfuls of the coverlet, but now she was loudly humming one of the songs they'd danced to earlier and she'd closed her eyes despite his instructions. Hoping that meant she'd passed the critical stage, he paused to admire the tableau.
Leia had looked stunning tonight, and he'd felt equal parts proud and humble to have her at his arm as they'd received their guests and mingled and danced throughout the night. She was dressed in a flattering strapless shimmersilk gown of a green so dark it was almost black, with a bodice just low enough and a bottom hem just high enough to tastefully display some of her best features. Her long chestnut hair was swept up in an artfully arranged cascade of swirls that could make an architect swoon, and the bright smile she'd worn all evening was still plastered across her beautiful face.
"Hmmm, just the way I like her," Han contemplated aloud, enjoying her anything but stately display now.
He set the glass and towel on the bedside table, then walked around to the foot of the bed and sat on the edge beside her. Picking up her closest leg, he took his time running his hands down the smooth skin of her calf, appreciating the muscled curve before easing off the high-heeled shoe that had added a good two inches to her short stature. He heard her humming change into something more akin to a purr, and with that encouragement he smiled and slowed down even more as he repeated the action on her other leg. Then he kicked off his own shoes, shed his black dress jacket, and twisted around to toss it onto a chair in the distant corner. By the time he turned back, he heard the humming stop completely as a blissfully blank expression settle over her features.
As she'd once stridently told him years ago, princesses didn't pass out; he would have to remember that come the morning when she asked why she'd fallen asleep this way.
He grinned down at her for a long moment, and then reached across the bed to grab a pillow before stretching out onto his back next to her, not bothering to undress any further. It had been a long, exhilarating, and exhausting night; there was irony in their having no energy left to officially consummate the deal.
Just as he sighed, resigning himself to the fact that the night's festivities had ended, Leia stirred. She rolled onto her side to nestle up against him. "Han…? Have I told you how much I love you?"
He drew her closer into his arms. "Not in the past fifteen minutes…"
"Han…" She sighed into his chest, then whispered, "You're going to be my husband, you know." Threads of happy awe and seriousness were woven throughout her sleepy voice.
That was a sentiment he understood well. He lifted his head just enough to kiss the top of head, where her elegant tresses had already begun to unravel. "I know. You'll be my wife."
"Hmmmm. I like the sound of that."
Han felt her relax once more in his arms as she fell silent. After an evening filled with music and laughter and the dull roar of countless conversations, the peaceful silence that surrounded them now felt like being wrapped in the softest blanket. This time he could tell she'd fallen asleep, and he wasn't far behind.