AN: also posted on my Wattpad, just to clear up possible confusion
this is a disclaimer
LEIA let out a frustrated snarl, her hands shaking with rage as she collapsed in the co-pilot's seat of the Falcon. She dropped her dark head in her clawed fingers, drawing in a ragged breath as she attempted to control her infuriation.
"Damn you, Solo," she hissed, nails digging in her scalp. "Damn you."
"What's happened, love?"
Leia froze. The voice seemed to emit from her very mind, soft and clear and full of caring. She rose from her seat, surveying the cockpit carefully as her heart rate quickened steadily. She was the only soul in the room.
"I'm losing my mind," the princess mumbled scornfully, sitting back tiredly in the co-pilot's chair.
"Not quite, my dear," the same crisp, kind voice consoled, and this time it was embodied. Mere feet before Leia stood a woman too beautiful to be real—which she did not appear to be. Leia watched with panicked eyes as a cobalt luminescence faded from the woman's youthful complexion, from her long, dark hair that Leia noticed matched her own perfectly. The glow continued to wane from the woman's figure until the second person standing within the Falcon could have been entirely human. And yet, there was a certain spiritual distance that manifested itself in the stranger that perplexed Leia greatly. She was confident that if she reached out to touch the woman's arm, she would be greeted with the warmth of flesh. And still . . . something was undoubtedly surreal about her, something simultaneously entrancing and intimidating.
"W-who—" Leia sputtered, rising from the seat once again, backing up against the control panel. "Who are you?"
The woman only smiled, a warm and comforting gesture that somehow mollified Leia's distrust in an instant. Leia felt her eyes narrow, befuddled as to why this ghost acted as if she knew her.
"Leia," the woman breathed, as if just to feel the name upon her lips. "You . . . you said once that you remembered me."
The princess' mouth opened, forming a perfect "o", then snapped shut. A monsoon of realization overtook her, snatching the breath from her lungs, pockmarking her arms with chills. Leia began to quake, her knees threatening to buckle beneath her and suddenly the world engulfed every soul but the two in the cockpit of the Falcon and Leia forced herself to raise her eyes, forced her lips to form the word that she had uttered for years, and never really meant.
"M-mom?" She rasped, taking a trembling step forward. She held back, containing herself just enough to await the soft nod her mother offered before crashing into her embrace, clinging desperately to Padme Amidala's ghostly entity, sobbing, not wondering once how she was able to touch her mother without falling through her.
"How are you here?" Leia asked in tearful bewilderment, and Padme held her at arm's length, dark eyes taking in her daughter's damp, beautiful face that so resembled her own.
"It's a generous gift the Force granted me after I passed," the former queen explained gently, with perhaps the faintest hint of mockery in her steady voice. "I'm sorry I haven't visited you sooner. It's a bit difficult to find you alone these days."
Leia laughed, shaky and tear-sodden. "I-it's alright. I just never expected—I knew Ben sometimes appears to Luke, but—"
"Has Obi-Wan never spoken with you?" Padme snapped in an incredulous manner, eyes sparking like Luke's did when he was upset. "Oh, he'll be hearing from me about that . . ."
(Padme wouldn't have known, of course, that the reason Obi-Wan had not made himself known to Leia was that he feared she would remind him too much of her father. He wasn't quite positive he could take the resemblance.)
"No," Leia stammered, tears spilling down her rosy cheeks. "It's alright. You're here, and—well I just have a thousand questions . . . why . . . why did Luke and I grow up without you?"
A flash of heartbreak struck Padme's face, and for a moment Leia did not think she would answer her. But, the Nabooian Senator sighed, her eyes glistening as she took her daughter's trembling hands in her own.
"It was never what your father and I wanted," she insisted with such urgency Leia found herself nodding vigorously in understanding.
"Palpat—Sidious was behind everything, he manipulated Anakin until he had lost all control of himself." Padme placed her glowing palms against Leia's cheeks. "No matter what people tell you, your father did not kill me. The Emperor drained my life force long after Anakin had done anything. That doesn't excuse what he did do, but . . . it's important to me that you know. Your father was a good man."
Leia began to sob again. "Luke told me he believed there had been light in him. I suppose I believed him, but . . . Mother, he . . . and with Alderaan—!"
The princess could speak no longer. Padme gathered her daughter in her arms and let her wail against her ghostly shoulder, pained at how unfair a position her child had been put in. It frustrated her beyond reason that Leia was never given any opportunity to hear the tales of Anakin Skywalker—the true man her father was—as Luke had, that all she knew was the armored creature that slaughtered billions without remorse. Oh, how Leia Organa reminded Padme of her husband—they shared the same fire, the same courage, the same restlessness. And a surge of anger drove through her when she remembered how mercilessly Anakin's fire had been stamped out, his courage overpowered, his restlessness forcibly stilled, and she prayed against hope that the darkness in the galaxy did not do the same to their daughter.
Too much had been done to their daughter.
"You mentioned Captain Solo?" Padme spoke up suddenly, attempting to steer the conversation in a new direction. Leia drew away from her mother, swiping at her eyes and sniffling, feeling as if she were a toddler again, crying because Bail had taken a toy from her.
"Yes," she mumbled, fighting to strengthen her voice.
"What's he done?"
"Oh," Leia groaned in exasperation, head lolling back as she was reminded of her earlier fury. "He's being entirely unfair. I mean, I knew he had trouble staying put, but I never assumed it to be this bad! I suppose I shouldn't be surprised—we both knew it was a possibility, but I always believed he'd want one, and now he's going off talking about how 'we're not ready' or, 'this was never something we planned', but—well, he could at least act a bit happier—!"
"—Leia," Padme cut her off smoothly, a growing smirk pulling at the edges of her lips. "You believed he'd want what?"
The Alderaanian Princess felt her ears grow warm with hot embarrassment as a narrow hand subconsciously lifted to her belly. "Well . . ."
Padme could not hide her enormous grin. "How far along are you?"
Leia blushed again. "A few weeks, maybe a month. But don't go off surprising Luke with this! He doesn't know yet."
Padme laughed, a clear, beautiful laugh, so similar to her son's. "Don't worry." She sighed, hands placed on hips as she looked Leia up and down, smiling with unmasked pride. "Carrying a smuggler's baby," she pretended to chastise. "It's a good thing you're not a part of the Royal Court anymore, or they'd eat you alive."
Leia blew through teeth. "That's preferable to Han wanting to fly off on some obscure job for near the length of my entire pregnancy!"
Padme shook her head softly. "I'm sure that's not really what he wants."
Leia pursed her lips, irritated with the whole thing. "Yeah, well . . . how did Father react when he found out about Luke and I"
"Oh, I don't think I've ever seen him happier," Padme mused fondly. "We hadn't seen each other for five months, he was fresh from the war when I told him. Kriff, I had been so terrified. Still, he'd never been so excited, and I knew right then just how much he loved you. But," she raised an eyebrow. "Han and Anakin are different people. And I know it seems he'll drive you mad, or that he doesn't care about his child. But you know he does. And he cares about you more than anything in the galaxy. It scares him."
"It scares me too!" Leia huffed. "But he can't just run away—I don't want to do this alone. I just wish he would listen to me."
"I do listen, Princess."
Leia whipped around, nearly leaping out of her boots. Standing there, with big, calloused hands spread, bronze face twisted into a cautious smirk that showed off all his gleaming teeth, was her smuggler. Her war-hero, her criminal. Her scoundrel.
"Who were you talking to?" Han asked in puzzlement, crossing his arms and taking a step towards Leia. Padme had disappeared, she noticed, or was simply concealing herself for the time being.
"My mother." She said blatantly, disregarding the quizzical and altogether dismissive look upon his face.
"Alright," he humored her, mouth drawing into a thin line. "Look, about what I said earlier . . . I'm . . . I'm not going anywhere."
"You're not?"
"Nah," he waved a hand. "C'mon, Princess, you know me. I never know when to shut up—I was just bluffing to win the argument. Actually, I was, uh . . . thinking of a name for the little tyke."
"Oh?" Was all Leia whispered as she allowed Han to slip her hand into his.
"Yeah," he replied, drawing her closer to him. "What d'ya think of 'Ben?'"