Off Kilter
By Justine Graham
A/N: Happy, happy birthday to my partner-in-fic-writing-crime and BFF, the lovely erindarroch. You mentioned on the Discord chat that someone should write a fic in which Han Solo is made to wear a kilt, and Leia's all eyes. Your wish is my command, my dear friend. I hope you enjoy!
PS: This writing solo (heh) stuff is still bollocks. There's no magical elves to make everything pretty, and it's plain NOT FUN. Stop having birthdays, willya? ;)
PPS: Many thanks to JennyCBS for the beta and to Scruffy'sSweetheart for the final read-through, and for being great all-round cheerleaders.
Chapter 1
Han lingered in the hallway while the uniformed porter propped open the door for Leia to pass through, and then offered him a polite nod and stepped past him into the vestibule of the suite. He paused there while Leia ventured deeper into the spacious room, feeling a twinge of guilt watching the short, stout human wrestle the first of their travel cases from atop the repulsor cart that sat humming in the corridor. The bags were unusually heavy, packed with an array of apparel to suit a variety of weather conditions, in addition to the dress uniforms and formal gowns needed to see them both through the long list of dinners and cocktail parties planned for this week-long official visit to Anclosdt III.
The stocky fellow—Drael, the gilded badge on his colourful sash proclaimed in Basic and Aurebesh—was already red-faced and sweating from transferring the bags from the speeder to the repulsor cart upon their arrival. By the time he was halfway through his first slow trek to the door of the suite weighted down with one of the cumbersome cases, beads of perspiration had begun to roll down his forehead and his breathing had become a laboured wheeze.
"You know, I could you help with those," Han said dryly.
Huffing with with exertion, the porter raised his free hand in a gesture of forestalling. "Absolutely not, General," he managed between breaths, the rolling lilt of his accent sounding mildly aghast. "You are our—".
"Honoured guest," Han interjected, crossing his arms over his chest as the porter shuffled past. "Yeah, that's what everybody keeps sayin' around here. But I ain't gonna be too honoured to watch you keel over, pal."
"It is my duty to make your stay a pleasant one, and—ooof." He deposited the piece in the vestibule with a grunt and then stepped back and mopped at his beaded brow with a folded handkerchief tugged from his jacket pocket. "Please," he said, gesturing with one hand toward the main part of the suite. "Look around, and make yourselves at home while I attend to the remainder."
Han shrugged with resignation and, hooking his thumbs in his belt, ventured a little further into the suite. He turned in a slow circle in place, taking in his first look at their temporary accommodations with genuine admiration. It was evident that great care had been taken to preserve and showcase the authentic architecture of the centuries-old estate during its recent post-war restoration to the luxury hotel it was today. Though updated and decorated in the clean lines and neutral tones of a modern style, the suite retained its original vaulted beamed ceilings, rustic stone floors, and polished wooden wainscoting harkening back to days long past. It was quaint with an air of elegance, a perfect mix of old and new that was warm, charming, and instantly welcoming.
Hearing another heavy grunt from the vestibule, Han looked up in time to see Drael drop another bag beside the first. Then, daubing anew at the beads of sweat that trickled down his forehead, he crossed the suite to stand at Han's shoulder.
"Beautiful, is it not?" he asked between huffs of breath, gazing around the room with a reverent expression.
"Yeah," Han returned. "Pretty hard to believe there was almost nothin' left of it just a few months ago."
The diminutive human turned to focus on Han, a thoughtful smile rounding his pudgy cheeks.
"Ah, but it's true," he said eagerly, no doubt grateful for the chance to engage his guest in conversation, and catch his breath. "Tell me, General; what do you know of our history?"
"It's clan-oriented. Planet's all divided into territories, each one with its own representative."
"Yes," Drael nodded, beaming a wide smile. "All presided over by a single Katrra—a high chief, if you will, with authority over all. This," he said, spreading his short arms as wide as he could, "was the proud home of every ruling Katrra for generations, until the planet fell to Imperial rule."
He sighed and shook his head. "When the Empire came, this estate, the very symbol of our heritage, was nearly reduced to rubble. Our government was dissolved, our leaders killed or driven underground. It was a dark time in our planet's great history."
Han pursed his lips and nodded. "Familiar tune."
"The Empire tried to erase our legacy," Drael continued, "but thanks to the Alliance, our way of life has been restored. And with it, the magnificence of this splendid estate. It stands now as a testament to our past, and beacon for our future. A future that you allowed us to hope for once more. For that, we are forever grateful."
"Yeah. And that's why we're here, I guess. Leia tells me—". He glanced around the confines of the suite, realizing then that Leia was nowhere to be seen. "Leia?"
"Unless I am mistaken, Her Highness has found one of the highlights of this particular suite," Drael said, indicating the door of the adjoining bedroom with a jerk of his chin. He tipped forward at the waist in as reasonable a bow as his barrel shape would permit and then straightened, tugging at the hem of his jacket to cover his rounded belly. "And now, if you will excuse me, General," he said with a sharp nod, "I must attend to the remainder of the bags."
Leaving Drael to continue his work in peace, Han wandered into the bedroom, noting that the design details of the expansive room were just as impressive as in the rest of the suite. The furnishings were tasteful yet understated, carefully chosen to augment but not detract from the main feature of the room—a bank of windows that covered the whole of the western-facing wall of the suite, flooding the room with an abundance of natural light. In their centre, a pair of glassine-paneled doors leading to a wide terrace stood open to the afternoon air. The warm breeze that drifted in stirred the gossamer curtains there, permeating the air inside the room with the fresh, green scent of the outdoors.
"Leia?" he called. "You out there?"
"Yes." Her voice drifted in with the breeze from the wide stone balcony just visible beyond the open doors. "Here."
Following the sound of her voice, Han crossed the room, and stepped out onto the sunlit terrace, and what he before him stopped him in his tracks.
Leia stood before the stone balustrade, leaning both elbows on the rough stone surface with her chin propped on her clasped hands, gazing out over the manicured gardens to the horizon beyond. One thin strap of the light dress she wore had slipped from her shapely shoulder, and she had freed her hair from its loose chignon at the back of her head. The brilliance of the planet's three small suns reflected in the auburn waves that spilled down her back, radiating tones of vibrant copper and burnished red, and gave her normally pale skin a golden, radiant glow. Han stood rooted to the spot, torn between the sudden desire to press his lips to that creamy skin and feel the silken strands of her hair slip through his fingers, and simply staring in awestruck wonder at the ethereal vision of her framed by the extraordinary view beyond the terrace.
And what a view it was. Perched alone on a small tidal island, the grand estate was surrounded on all sides by the cold, pristine waters of two converging sea lakes. Limned in sunlight, the landscape was breathtaking, offering an impressive display of the sublime perfection of colour: rugged grey, vibrant green and deep indigo blue set against a pristine veil of the most vivid azure sky Han had ever seen.
Leia turned to look over her shoulder then, her shining eyes lighting upon him with a contented smile gracing the corners of her lips. She angled away from the balustrade and extended a hand in wordless invitation.
Han closed the distance between them in a few long strides and draped an arm around her shoulder. In turn, she slipped hers around his waist, relaxing into him with the easy intimacy that existed between them now. Comforting and familiar, their closeness felt as natural and beautiful as the sun-dappled landscape beyond the balustrade, and for a long moment they simply stood together in companionable silence taking in the incredible sight.
They'd seen holographs of Anclosdt's towering mountains and crystal clear waters during the primer on the planet's history and culture they'd received in advance of their visit, but nothing had prepared them for the true beauty of the isolated planet. In truth, amazing didn't even being to describe it. Itdid, however, describe the circumstances under which they found themselves here, on this tiny speck of a planet on the farthest fringes of the Outer Rim.
The call for representatives of the New Republic to visit Anclosdt III had come as a surprise to the entirety of the fledgling government's administration. In recognition of the New Republic's liberation of their planet from beneath the yoke of Imperial servitude in the months following the Battle of Endor, the ruling chieftain had done something that had never been done before in the planet's history. He had decreed the creation of a new clan, inducting the New Republic into a place of honour among their people with those who played a pivotal role in the destruction of the second Death Star—Han, Chewie, Lando and Leia—acting as its representatives. The recognition was graciously received, but with Lando on assignment rooting out Imperial holdouts in the Tion Cluster, the duty of acceptance fell to the remaining three. Chewie was delayed with family matters on Kashyyyk, but was expected the following day. Until then, it was just the two of them.
In truth, Han relished some time alone with Leia. In the nearly eight standard months that had passed since the pivotal Battle of Endor, such moments were rare indeed, and a precious commodity in this busy post-war rebuilding period. They were to be savoured, and he planned to enjoy every minute of it—even if it did mean enduring sweltering dress uniforms, scratchy shirt collars and a week filled with sweaty handshakes and smiling until his face hurt.
At his side, he felt Leia's shoulders hitch as she drew a deep breath, and then released it in a sigh. "We needed this," she murmured, as if echoing his thoughts. "I needed this."
Han angled his head down and pressed a kiss into her hair and then rested his cheek on the top of her head. "Me too."
"It gets so busy that it's easy to lose sight of what we're doing. What we've done. But then, we end up somewhere like this...and it's so clear." She shifted around to face him fully, lifted her arms to wrap around his neck and tipped her face to his. "This is what we worked so hard for, Han. Places like this. Moments like this."
She stretched up on tiptoe and they shared a lingering kiss. It still managed to make his head spin, the way she kissed him now. Whether brief and furtive, passionate and bold, or gentle and unhurried like this, Leia imbued every kiss with the energy of her devotion—so raw and genuine that the experience of it made his heart clench inside his chest and suffused his entire being with a warm and pleasant glow. And what he felt in return was so deeply intense, so all-encompassing that it overwhelmed him if he stopped to think about it long enough. Not for the first time in the past few months, he gave himself a mental pinch to be certain that he was really here, and the glorious feeling of her small frame in his arms and the warmth of her lips against his was real and not the cruel offering of a carbonite-static mind.
"And I'm grateful for the chance to spend some time alone with you," she sighed when they finally parted. "I miss you. We live in the same apartment now, yet days go by where we hardly even see each other."
"Yeah. I know it ain't gonna be forever, but it's hell for now." He cocked his head in contemplation and then smiled. "Tell you what. We don't have anywhere to be for a couple of hours. I'll go grab the bags from the hall and help you get your gowns hung up so they don't wrinkle. Then we'll order up some wine, and relax for a while. Just you and me."
Leia pressed a soft kiss to the underside of his jaw and then subsided, her palms sliding down over his shoulders to rest against his chest as she took a step back. "That sounds perfect."
Han dipped down to brush a kiss across her forehead. "Sure does. Be right back."
Passing through the main part of the suite on his way to the vestibule, Han's eye was drawn to two large, flat boxes stacked together on the damask settee in the sitting area.
"Leia?" he called over his shoulder. "There's some stuff here that ain't ours. Looks like our friend Drael mighta dropped off somebody else's junk by mistake."
Han paused near the bags in the vestibule as Leia emerged from the bedroom, made her way to the settee and lighted on the edge. "There's no mistake," she said, her voice registering a note of confusion. "This box has my name on it." She pushed the edge of the topmost box aside to peer at the one underneath. "And this one has yours."
"Huh." Leaving the bags where the were, Han joined Leia in the sitting area. "Don't wait for me," he grinned. sinking down into one of the high-backed chairs. "Let's see what we got."
Leia lifted the top of the box, and drew a sharp breath. "Oh my stars," she breathed. "It's gorgeous."
She reached both hands into the box and then rose to her feet at the side of the settee, holding a dress that was as much reminiscent of a former time as the estate itself. Fashioned from a matte fabric in a pale shade of cream, the garment had a laced bodice, quarter-length sleeves that widened into pleated cuffs, and a full skirt gathered to mid-thigh at one edge, revealing an inset panel in a criss-crossed pattern of horizontal and vertical bands underneath. Han recognized the patterning as the unique hallmark of a clan, though he'd never seen this combination of hues before. He could tell in an instant that the colour and the fit would look spectacular on Leia's small frame.
"And there's some sort of sash, in the same material," she said, holding the dress against her body with one arm while reaching down into the box with the other to withdraw the swatch of colourful fabric. Her brows knit in bewilderment. "And shoes, accessories...and a holocube."
"Lemme see." Shifting to the edge of his chair, Han reached across the low table that separated them and snagged the cube from the box. He turned it over in his hands, examining it from all sides before triggering the device and setting it down on the tabletop.
As the playback began, Leia eased the dress back into its box and sank down to the settee beside it. "That's Barr Treysk," she said, nodding toward the image that appeared before them. "Ruler of the clans. I know him from the holographs."
Han made a small sound of acknowledgement, recognizing the face of the Anclosdti leader as well. Though the image flickered and warped, the native humanoid's greyish skin, flattened nasal structure and distinctive, wide-set amber eyes were unmistakable.
"Honoured guests," the being intoned, dipping his head in reverence. "To you both, I bid a most sincere welcome."
Han leaned in, straining to catch the words spoken in the heavy, rolling tones of the Anclosdti native's deep voice.
"I had hoped to greet you and deliver these personally upon your arrival, but regrettably, I have business matters that require my presence. In my absence, please accept these gifts as small token of our esteem. They are traditional garments for tonight's reception, in the style reserved for celebrations of the highest significance."
Han narrowed his eyes at the holo, huffing in annoyance. "Is he speakin' Basic? That accent of his is damn near impossible to understand."
"Shhh," Leia urged, leaning in close and cocking an ear toward the holocube. "It helps if you listen."
"In recognition of this historic event," the holo continued, "a unique pattern to represent the new clan has been designed especially for you. The colours were chosen with purpose: white, to honour Her Highness and the Royal house of Alderaan; green, for the noble Chewbacca and the forests of Kashyyyk; black, for the ebony deserts of General Calrissian's homeworld of Socorro; and, lastly, red, representing the heart of the Anclosdti people who owe their lives to your selfless acts of bravery."
"Lastly?" Han looked to Leia and raised an incredulous eyebrow. "What, do I not—".
"And let us not forget you, General Solo," Treysk's likeness continued with a wide smile, baring rows of jagged white teeth. "You have been commemorated as well, in a unique manner of which I'm certain you'll approve. It is my sincere wish that you accept these gifts, and wear them in good health. I look forward to meeting you both this evening."
The holo faded to black then, and Han slumped against the cushioned chair back and stared at the now-silent cube. "Wow. Sounds like they're goin' all out."
"Open yours," Leia urged, lifting the topmost box for him to take the one beneath.
"I reckon it can't get much worse than itchy, depressing Alliance grey," Han remarked, sliding the box from the settee into his lap. He removed the lid, and set it on floor beside the chair while he inspected the contents. At first he didn't quite understand what it was he was looking at. But when he unfolded the article at the top of the stack, realization dawned with a jolt. All at once, he felt as though his stomach had dropped squarely into the toes of his boots.
"What? What is it?" Leia prompted.
"I was wrong. It's worse." He shook the garment out and lifted it up for Leia to see, holding it away from him at arm's length as if it were was an object of scorn.
"Oh, it's lovely."
Han focused his disbelieving gaze on her as if she'd suddenly started speaking in Shyriiwook. "Lovely? Leia, It's a damn skirt."
"It's not a skirt, Han," she chided. "You heard Treysk. It's traditional ceremonial dress."
"Dress being the operative word."
Leia rolled her eyes. "Oh, stop," she said in a mildly chastising tone.
"Trust me, Sweetheart, that's exactly what I'm gonna do. If they expect me to prance around in that getup, I'm out. Throttle down, full stop."
"The Anclosdti haven't initiated a new clan in centuries, Han," Leia said, pursing her lips in a thin line. "This is unprecedented. It's the highest honour that they could bestow."
"Yeah? Well, they can honour me in trousers," he said flatly.
"They've clearly put a lot of time and effort into this," Leia continued unabated, reaching out to snag the garment from from his slack grip. She held it aloft in one hand, while trailing a finger along the broken line of yellow piping adorning one of its side seams with the other. "Did you see? Bloodstripes. That's an incredible gesture of respect for your contribution, Han. The proper thing to do—the diplomatic thing—is to accept with good grace."
"I ain't the diplomat here. You are."
"It's much lighter fabric than your dress uniform," Leia ventured. "And you must admit the colour scheme is stunning."
"I don't care about the colour scheme, " Han groused, snatching the skirt back out of her hand.
Silently though, he had to acknowledge that Leia was right—the Anclosdti designers had done remarkable work. The yellow shading of the Bloodstripes was perfect, augmenting and enriching the mixed palette of the soft wool fabric. But he wasn't about to admit any such observations to Leia, and he wasn't about to parade about in it for anyone else to observe, either.
"The answer to this," he said, shaking the garment for effect, "is no."
Leia gave him an imploring look. "But you haven't even seen the rest of the outfit yet."
"And I ain't gonna see it, either. Even I got limits, Leia." He made a show of dropping the garment into the box, and then tossed the lot back onto the settee beside her with an air of finality. "That's one of 'em."
Holding Leia's gaze, he saw her dark eyes flash and a slow smile begin to spread itself across her face. She rose to her feet and slid warmly into his lap, winding her arms around his neck once more and then leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips.
"But you'll look so incredibly handsome…." she said, nipping her way across the angle of his jaw to murmur in his ear.
Despite the shudder the warm rush of her breath sent careening down his spine, Han held his head proudly upright and stood his ground. "Nice try. Sweet talkin' ain't gonna work this time."
Leia drew back and cocked her head thoughtfully. "There are advantages, Flyboy," she pointed out, weighting her voice with possibility. "Think about it. This may be my one and only chance to slip a hand under your skirt for a change."
"Ah, see?" He brought a hand up between them and stabbed the air with an accusatory finger pointed in her direction. "You just said it yourself. Skirt."
Leia shook her head. "You're overreacting. It's culture, Han," she sighed as she hopped down from his lap. "I won't force you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable, you know that. I just wish there was something I could say to make you change your mind."
"My mind is made up, Leia," Han said with an air of finality. "Nothin' you say is gonna make me put on that skirt. Nothin'."