REBEL WITH A CAUSE
Chapter 2
It's the week before school starts for the boys and teaching classes for me. I haven't paid much attention to my memoirs, since I've been working on my notes for teaching. I'm a little nervous about it, which I don't understand; I've never been shy about giving speeches, or giving orders; both come naturally to me. However, I was tutored; I don't know much about being in a classroom, let alone in front of one. But I believe I'll enjoy it.
Right now, the boys—and gods know how many of their friends—are out in the speederport, working on a junked speeder Anakin purchased with his sabacc winnings. They're completely dismantling it and plan to rebuild it. Both of my younger sons are gifted mechanics, courtesy of their father. I'm a fair mechanic, but I wouldn't venture to rebuild a speeder. Fortunately, this project will take a while, so I don't have to worry about them racing it around anytime soon.
Han's on a delivery with Chewie. I'm grateful it will only be a three day trip. Unfortunately, they just left this morning, so I'll be without him tonight. Might as well take the time to do some writing.
The Making of a Princess
My father spent a lot of time away from home. As I got older, I had a pretty good idea why; it was no secret in our household that Dad was actively involved in planning a rebellion against the Empire. It was about everything Alderaan wasn't-oppressive taxation, especially on the poor and middle classes; arbitrary rulings; a huge military buildup. For a long time he didn't discuss it with me in detail, and when he did give me any information, he indicated that it was very important that I didn't talk to anyone about it. The Empire had spies everywhere, and it wasn't above pressing children to reveal things, often unpleasantly. That was as much if a warning as I would get, until I was twelve.
Twelve was a huge transitional year for me in a lot of different ways. First, I started menstruating, but my mother was kind enough to allow me to have a chip inserted into my arm, meaning I wouldn't have to deal with it more than once a year, when a new chip needed to be inserted. After listening to some of the tales from the household staff, I was grateful.
My aunts stepped up the pressure in their attempts to turn me into a 'proper princess.' They constantly compared me to Winter, who'd been taken in by my parents when she was orphaned by the Empire. She always had a regal bearing about her, she enjoyed being dressed up and having her hair done, and she
bore being quiet with far more grace and patience than I ever did. I preferred self-defense classes, and ball games with the servants' children. And things were heating up beyond Alderaan. Even though my world had a no weapons policy, Dad was teaching me how to handle firearms. He explained that I might need to know how to defend myself in the future. How right he was.
In the meantime, my aunts' goal in life for me was to make me presentable enough to interest a potential suitor. These suitors, of course, would come from other noble families. I'd met many of them by the time I was twelve, and I hadn't particularly liked any of them. They seemed like such dolts. I preferred the cook's son, Venkat-even if I didn't think much of his mother, who was adamant about keeping children out of her kitchen. He was a mean nega-ball player, and he was smarter than any of the pretty boys I was supposed to be acting like a potential wife to. Also, he was, by far, the best source of gossip about the palace. He was three years older than I was and viciously funny. His parents-his father was a groundskeeper-were determined he attend university, and I have no doubt he would have been very successful.
My parents had told me that when I was old enough, a marriage would be arranged for me. I let them know exactly what I thought of that in no uncertain terms. They didn't bring it up again, since I informed them I had no plans to ever marry anyway.
My aunts did nothing but harp on it. I was far more curious about the galaxy around me than matrimony, always wanting know more about it. My Aunt Tia went so far as to actually inform me that if I went around acting as if I was more intelligent than any of the 'suitable' males I had contact with, I'd end up an old spinster. I informed them that that would be just fine with me. They were, to say the least, aghast.
But the most important thing that occurred when I was twelve was that Dad let me in on what was going on with the Empire and how he was involved in organizing the Rebellion. Things were already very bad, he told me, and getting worse. He and Mon Mothma, whom I'd known since I was very small, were in charge of political strategy and recruitment of willing planets; they had military strategists working on that the possibility of open warfare. It was, he told me, going to take a great deal of credits, and if something should happen to him, he had me memorize a list of places where I could find assets that he'd placed, and those assets were to be used to finance the Rebellion.
A lot came together in that moment. I realized now why he was gone so often, but beyond that, why he'd spent so much time making sure I was well in educated in government, economics, politics, law and communications, as well as in being able to fight. He was now going to have to make sure that I was knowledgeable about military strategy and tactics, and my instructor was going to be one of my family's oldest and best friends, Carlist Rieekan.
I don't remember not knowing Carlist; there are pictures of me as a newborn in his lap and that of his beloved wife, Elyana. I recall sitting on his knee as a young child. He was always rather quiet, tending to listen as opposed to speaking, and he was always kind to me. I would paint him what really were atrocious pictures, and he kept them; one time when Dad and I went to visit him, I saw a number
of them in his home, attached to the chiller and his work desk.
To say I enjoyed my lessons with Carlist might be stretching the point, but they were interesting, and proving more and more necessary. Like Dad, he was a founding member of the Alliance to Restore the Republic, the Rebellion being the shorthand. He was clear spoken, and always very calm. I was always trying to make him laugh, but he didn't laugh much by then. He'd been a career military officer in the Imperial Army, and his defection was a very serious thing to him. He didn't make decisions lightly. He did emphasize to me that it would never be my job to be on the front lines. The career that was laid out ahead for me was to take my father's place in the Imperial Senate when he stepped down at the end of his term in three years, and I hoped that I would be able to speak up for democracy and peace without warfare taking place.
I was so young and idealistic then.
In the meantime, while my father and my tutors treated me like a capable, intelligent human, my aunts regarded me as simply a cantankerous child who was simply being stubborn about not wanting to go on the marriage market. Not that I would have been married for a number of years after a husband was selected-child marriages were illegal on Alderaan. Even my mother got on board with them to some degree, and since I was older, she resumed more of her work schedule. It was like living a weird double life. I knew which side interested me more.
It's getting late, and I really need to go to bed. One thing I hate is going to bed alone. Han is such a reassuring presence in every area of my life, but especially when we're alone between the sheets. I miss him tonight, and I think about all the nights I was away and sleeping in some far off place, missing the heat of his body, the soft snoring he makes, and his unique scent. Writing this memoir brings back the pain of losing my homeworld, and in Han's arms, I feel a comfort like no other.
I tiptoe to my sons' rooms. I look in on Anakin, who always looks as if he's at peace. He's smiling a bit. He's about to turn fourteen; I wonder if there's a girl (or girls) he's dreaming about. He's just getting to the hormonal stage, but compared to my other two, he's pretty calm. He'll sulk on occasion, but he's a happy kid, always positive.
Jarik, in contrast, is tangled up in the bedcovers and writhes about in his sleep. He's always in motion, and this doesn't stop when he's down for the count. Han had the idea that he might be able to keep up with a non Force-sensitive kid. Jarik dispelled any notions either of us might have had. He moves fast, talks fast, and is perpetually animated. But he doesn't thrash around due to nightmares; he's just a nonstop kid.
And it occurs to me: this is why we fought this war, so that our kids can sleep in peace. It doesn't take away the pain of loss, but it reminds me that it was the right thing to do.
I just wish Han were here.
