Part I: Princess

It was Luke's idea.

While normally that would be a ringing endorsement, my brother is not noted for his history of successful long-term relationships. (Though the number of women who send him holos, accompanied by requests for autographs, dates, and lap dances, seems to increase exponentially day by day.) If I have a moral dilemma, I go to Luke. On the other hand if my love life is in shambles, then I would do better to break out the Whyren's Reserve and watch old holodrama reruns with Chewie, because he's the only man in my life likely to have any answers.

The problem is that – according to Threepio's best calculations – where you find Chewie, you run an eighty-four percent chance of finding Han, too.

Fortunately for me, today was in the other sixteen percent.

He swept me off my feet with a thunderous roar and swung me around and around, my waist-length braid flying through the air, before setting me back down. I buried my face in the warm ginger fur of his stomach.

He growled an interrogative.

"No, I was hoping he'd be out. I need to talk to you."

A rumble of concern.

"I'm fine, really. I just got back from a meeting of the Alderaanian Council." I paused. "The entire session was basically an excuse to start planning my wedding to Prince Isolder. Who hasn't even asked me to marry him." Yet.

Chewbacca said something for which my rudimentary command of Shyriiwook was inadequate, but I caught the drift of it easily enough. I tried to suppress my mirth.

"While that might be gratifying to watch, I don't think it would do us any good in the long run. They'd just arrest you, and probably me too, and then Han would bail us both out and I'd never live it down."

The Wookie equivalent of a snort.

"I came to ask you a favor, Chewie. Mon Mothma has suspended my other diplomatic duties so I can spend more time with the Hapan delegation. And I don't mind the Prince" – a warning growl from Chewbacca – "it's just, he's always got those amazon guards. He's even assigned one to me ever since the last assassination attempt. I thought if I could demonstrate that I'm well protected right where I am –"

The vigorous growl of assent was immediate and unhesistant.

"You will? That's wonderful! Only for a couple of days, you understand, until things die down. I know it must be hard on you, and if that pigheaded oaf gives you any trouble, you just tell him it's not fair to draw our friends up into battle lines."

"Who's a pigheaded oaf?" a voice demanded from the doorway.

Framed in the soft light of the corridor's glowrods, Han's familiar features looked more tired than I had ever seen them. He was dressed in informal military fatigues and carried a duffel that made it clear he was returning from maneuvers with the fleet.

"Hello, Han," I said. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"What, in my own apartment?"

Chewbacca pointed out that Han was not necessarily the main attraction.

"Fine. Have it your way. She came for the pleasure of the big furball's company. You can go shed all over her carpet anytime, buddy."

There was a brief silence. "Actually, that's what I asked him to do."

"You what?" Han exploded, dropping the duffel with a thud.

"I need someone imposing –"

"Isn't that what those belly dancers disguised as bodyguards are for? Looks like Isolder's got a whole harem tucked away on that flagship."

"Yes, but I need someone on my side," I said impatiently.

"I'm on your side," he said, and for a moment the longing in his eyes almost caused me to relent. Almost.

"Chewie will be accompanying me tomorrow," I said briskly, preparing to make my exit. As good as it was to see Chewie, I couldn't stand another minute of that infernal man.

"Hey, wait just a minute. Where, exactly, is he accompanying you to?"

"Since it's Prince Isolder's first visit to Coruscant, I thought it was important for him to see firsthand the long, proud history of the Republic. To see that we're a people, not just a hodgepodge of species and cultures thrown together ad hoc." Luke had warned me not to rub it in his face, but what did Luke know? Luke wouldn't recognize a romantic overture if it conked him over the head with the butt of a blaster.

"You're – you're going to the Galactic Museum?" Han sputtered.

"That's right. And as I recall, you were never fond of the place. 'Too many statues of dead guys and nothing to shoot,' was your verdict."

"I—" Han swallowed visibly. "That's not true. I love museums. Find them fascinating, I do." He narrowed his eyes. "It's a big place. What happens if someone else tries to kill you?"

Chewbacca roared in protest. He would never allow anything to happen to me.

"I'd still feel safer if I could keep an eye on you myself."

"No. Absolutely not." Take Chewie along if you want, Luke had suggested, but for the love of the Force don't let Han find out.

"That's not fair. You know I'm a good man to have in a tight spot. I'm less conspicuous than a Wookie, and unlike the Hapans I know my way around Coruscant. I promise to behave, Leia."

"Like you behaved at dinner last night?"

"He called me out! I'm not letting him have you without a fight."

"Han Solo, I am not a … a trophy wife!"

"I'm sorry about last night. Can I come tomorrow or not?"

Put Han and Isolder in the same room, and somebody is going to get hurt. It might not even be Han or Isolder, Luke had predicted glumly. But what did Luke know? If I was counting on him, I would be old and gray before he made me an aunt.

"You'll be miserable," I told Han. "You'll hate every minute of it."

"That's as it may be, Your Highness."

So only invite him along as a last resort, Luke had said.

Well, to hell with Luke, and to hell with Han and Isolder. Chewbacca and I would have a ball roaming the exhibits alone.

Then I thought, He deserves it, the pigheaded oaf, and I said, "Be outside my quarters at oh-eight-hundred hours."

Han's whoop was drowned by Chewie's howl of alarm; apparently he shared Luke's opinion of the volatile situation. I wish them joy of each other, Han and Isolder, I thought as I swept out of the apartment.

And that is why it was Luke's fault that we all wound up at the museum.