The "melting the ice princess" trope is one of my least favorite of all time, and frequently applied to my beloved Leia. After I ranted about it on Tumblr, the lovely graciecatfamilyband/imnothere24 suggested to me that Leia had my rant cross stitched and hanging up in her office. I loved it. After riffing on this idea for the better part of an evening (including throwing in another Tumblr discussion about what Shryiiwook writing looks like and of course a phrase from our beloved Carrie), this fic was born. I'm still not convinced that GCFB is not a witch, given that she helped to conjure up this thing, but at least she's a good witch, right?
Sampler
"All right. Last hand," Han said as he dealt the cards.
"What, can't hack it anymore, Solo?" teased Tycho.
Han met that barb with a grin. "Nah. These two have some Jedi thing to do, so the rest of you need to clear out," he said, motioning toward Luke and Leia.
There was mild grumbling among the Rogues, but the sabacc game in Han and Leia's apartment had already been going for most of the evening. And almost no one was going to question Jedi business, except—
"Jedi thing?" asked Wedge, turning to Luke.
"Leia's teaching me how to do needlepoint," Luke said brightly. "For meditation."
"Needlepoint?" scoffed Janson. "You gonna make me a pretty pillow, Skywalker?"
Tycho threw him a glare. "I know you did not just insult my cultural traditions," he warned.
"Cultural traditions?"
"The needle arts are—were—highly valued on Alderaan," Leia noted mildly as she considered her bet. "It was considered an important folk art form. Some designs were passed down for generations." She threw a credit chip on the pile. "See you…and raise you ten," she said.
Janson threw in another chip. "Sorry. Just didn't think you'd be into something so…girly," he told Tycho.
That got a head-shake from Han and a rather deliberate raise of the eyebrow from Leia. "I'm sure I didn't just hear you demean an activity because it is known for its association with female beings," she said sweetly, though there was a distinct edge to her voice.
Wes caught it. "Oh, no, of course not," he backtracked hastily. "There's nothing wrong with it, of course. And I don't think of you as…that type of girl, anyway."
The room fell silent. "Hoo boy," muttered Hobbie under his breath.
"Is that right?" Leia said, her eyebrow reaching new heights.
"I just meant—it's just that—" Janson stammered.
"Wes, I beg you to stop talking," groaned Wedge. "Skywalker, your bet."
Luke put down his credits, and the game continued.
Han was actually the one to bring it up again. "Y'know," he said to Janson a bit later, "it ain't as easy as it looks."
Hobbie smirked at him. "Solo. You do needlepoint?"
"I have done it. Chewie's a lot better'n me, though," he said, and Chewie made an appreciative warble at the compliment. "Made that piece in the front hallway. You can see it on your way out."
Given that most of them still had at least a residual fear of the Wookiee, the Rogues didn't dare leave without looking at the piece Han had mentioned, which was hanging prominently in the front hallway of Han and Leia's apartment. It was rather impressive: a set of mysterious but gracefully rendered symbols in the center, surrounded by curling vines, arallute blossoms, and Corellian lilies. It was hard to believe that Chewie's massive paws had created something so delicate.
"Is that what written Shyriiwook looks like?" asked Wedge.
"Yep," said Han. "Good call."
"What does it say?" asked Luke.
"It's…a congratulatory message," Han said, but Luke caught the look that passed between him and Leia and made a note to ask again later.
Han had been correct—needlework art was a good deal more difficult to do than it might appear at first. Aunt Beru had taught Luke enough sewing that he could do simple repairs to his clothes, sew on a button, that sort of thing, but nothing this detailed and exacting. The rudimentary little Alliance starbird he was making had taken more than an hour, and he was only about halfway done. Leia, on the other hand, had made significant progress on the project she was working on, which looked to be at a similar level of complexity to the piece Chewie had made, if not more. There was a border of arallute and starflower blossoms and delicate scrollwork, and Leia was beginning to fill in the precise set of stitches forming the script in the center—
Wait a minute. "Does that say bitch?" Luke asked.
Leia smiled. "Expressing oneself through art is very soothing, don't you think?"
She'd had to hold it in until they got home; Dodonna's retirement party was hardly the time and place to be reading the guest of honor the riot act. But once they were safely inside, Leia had let loose.
"You're so much softer now, like that's supposed to be a godsdamned compliment," she raged, removing her shoes and chucking them across the room as she stalked through the apartment. "So pleased to see me back to the old Alderaani ways."
Han followed her into the kitchen and wordlessly poured her a glass of whiskey as she continued to rant. "Who'd have thought that General Solo—" she gestured toward Han, taking the glass from him—"would be the one to melt our little Ice Princess."
"Fuckers." She took a drink, then continued. "Either you love me as a frigid bitch too, or you don't actually love me, you love some fucked-up version of me, GET OUT."
She finally took a breath to find Han grinning at her, calmly taking a drink from his own glass of whiskey. "Sorry," she said. "Evidently I have some feelings about that whole Ice Princess thing."
Han was completely unfazed. "'S a good point," he said. "You oughta embroider that on a pillow."
She smiled at him. "Maybe I will."
By Luke and Leia's next "meditation" session, Leia had made significant progress on her piece, which Luke noticed included not only the word "bitch" but the word "fuck" as well. Luke was definitely improving, and had to agree that the concentration and focus required for this needlework was an excellent meditation strategy.
He also was curious about something.
"So, how did Chewie and Han end up doing needlepoint?" he asked her.
"Trip to Bespin," she said. "I taught them."
"Thought you spent that trip in Han's cabin," Luke teased. "At least, according to Chewie."
It was a blessing that they could joke about that now; Leia laughed, remembering. "Well. Even we have limits. Forty days is a long time. And it wasn't fair to just leave poor Chewie with Threepio."
Ah, Threepio. Of course.
Luke had never seen Threepio refuse to translate something. Well, not exactly refuse, but—
"It's a congratulatory message," Threepio said.
"Yeah, I know that. What does it say?"
"I'm sorry, sir, but that is as far as I am at liberty to translate," he said apologetically.
The next time the Rogues came over for sabacc, Leia made a point of showing them both Luke's completed piece (the Rogue Squadron insignia) as well as her own creation, which she had already framed.
"Thought you were puttin' that on a pillow," Han said, grinning broadly at her.
"I thought it might make a nice office decoration," she said. "Besides, Jan's only in the office for two more weeks. It would be a shame for him to miss seeing it."
The Rogues were predictably enthusiastic at the thought of Jan Dodonna reading Leia's delicately stitched rant, and spent most of the sabacc game plotting various ways to ensure he would see it before he left.
Among themselves, they also were determined to find out the meaning of Chewie's piece, given the cryptic answer Han and Leia had given and Threepio's curious refusal to translate further; as they'd left the apartment, they'd taken a holo of it, later gathering at Wedge's apartment with a Shryiiwook-Basic dictionary.
"I found it! I found it! It's the symbol for—" Janson began.
"—mating," Tycho finished.
"No, look, it's the more familiar form," Luke noticed.
Wedge put it all together, and laughed. "It says, 'Congratulations on the sex.'"