The Protector
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Strong gloved hands close around her throat from behind before she even has time to scream. She tries to wiggle out of the man's grip, kick his shins, elbow him, but to no avail.
Her lungs are screaming for oxygen, her vision is dotted with black and the battle around her is becoming more and more blurry.
What a way to go, she thinks.
She always thought she would get killed by Vader, or just blow up in that damn heap of junk that Solo likes to call a ship, not like this.
Where is everyone, damn it? She's sure there was someone dispatched to keep her safe.
Solo was there too, pretending she needs his protection as ever, where is that nerf herder now?
"Hey!"
The stormtrooper behind her stiffens.
"Get your hands off her," he says, his voice nothing but a growl. "She's royalty."
The next thing she hears is a blaster, then she's suddenly free and stumbles right into her saviour.
"I got you, princess." She's never heard his voice this soft. "You alright?"
"Get off me, Solo," she croaks, tries to stand and collapses right back into his arms.
He chuckles. "Not yet, your Highness. Sorry."
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