The Naberries

by madame.alexandra

In the fledgling New Republic, Princess Leia continues to explore the complexities of where she comes from, and who she is. She tries to make sense of the past; she endeavors to decide what's in her future, and she spends time immersed in the perspectives of a dead woman's family. An installment in the Identity universe. H/L; AU.

4. Three

a/n: finally! a meshing of the families!

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Three

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Han was sitting on an overturned crate, his boots in a heap next to him, slowly pulling on socks when he noticed Leia shift onto her back and blink awake, staring up at the bunk ceiling. He watched her turn to the side, her back to him, run her hand over the sheets and his pillow, and then sit up a little more. She glanced over her shoulder, saw him, and laid back down, rolling onto her side to face him.

He drew one leg up and placed his foot on his knee, picking up one of his boots to finish getting dressed.

Leia rubbed one of her eyes and yawned quietly. She mumbled a good morning at him, and then looked around.

"What time is it?" she asked.

"It's still early," he answered. He ran a hand over his jaw, patting his knuckles against his cheek. "I'm about to go settle things with hangar management," he advised. "After I shave."

Leia nodded, turning onto her back again and resting her hand on her ribs. They had arrived on Naboo earlier than expected – the middle of the night, rather than at the start of the day – so they had landed the Falcon in one of the local long-term hangar's private docking bays using an access code from the Naberries, and gone back to sleep. Now that the hangar was open and functioning on more than just a skeleton crew, Han wanted to go authorize the credit transactions for any incurred fees, and determine if the security standards were on par with what he wanted – for both the purposes of their privacy, and protection of his beloved ship.

He yanked on his other boot and stood up, striding across the room to the bunk. He sat down on the edge next to her and reached for her sides, curling his fingertips into her ribs mischievously. She squealed and twisted away, kicking her feet at him.

"Han!" she gasped, swatting at him. "Haa-an! – You – stop it!" she whined, losing her breath, and dissolving into laughter.

He grinned and leaned down closer, running his hands up her sides, and Leia turned her head fiercely and snapped her teeth at him. He snorted and went from tickling her to holding onto her sides gently, and he pressed his lips to hers. He slid his arms under her and considered crawling back into bed – he could kick his boots off easily enough.

Leia pushed her hands through his hair and then rested her palms against his neck, breaking away after a moment to take a deep breath. She brushed her fingers against the early morning stubble on his jaw and tilted her head, relaxing back heavily on the pillows. She pulled one leg up, tapping her knee against his bicep.

"What is this?" she murmured, arching a brow with mock indignity. She leaned forward to give him another quick kiss. "You're bedeviling me and I haven't even had kaffe yet."

"Bedeviling you?" he quoted. "I'm just givin' my wife some," he drew his hands down to her ribs again, poised for attack, "affection."

He started with the light tickling again, and Leia tried to clench her teeth to hold back the laughter he was obviously looking for.

"S-scoundrel, ingrate – h-h-eathen!" she accused, her voice catching and hitting high pitches as she tried to talk through her giggling.

She twisted onto her side and buried her face in the pillow, shrieking at him, and he relented again, leaning down to press kisses against her side, up over her arm, and to her neck, which brought little chill bumps up on her skin, and she shifted her head into him to nudge him away as she sat up slowly.

"You're in a mood, Mr. Solo," she accused lightly, tossing her hair over one shoulder.

She pushed the sheets off her a little to disentangle herself, and crossed her legs, pulling her ankles in towards her. The old t-shirt she'd gone to bed in – something worn and frayed, his, even though it had really been hers since the trip to Bespin – hung on her attractively.

"Just wanted to hear you laugh," he drawled – and she burst out laughing again, at both the overdramatic simper he mustered up for his expression, and the words themselves.

"You know," she said primly, her tone secretive; "there are numerous beings in this galaxy who think you are an intimidating military general with a dangerous, rogue criminal streak."

"I am," Han said seriously.

Leia snorted.

"You're a hopeless romantic, Han Solo," she accused.

"Am not," he retorted. "I just like it when you laugh."

Leia deliberately tried to stifle a grin, and Han gave her a warning look, lifting his hand menacingly, fingers curled. She swatted him away, lunging forward and pushing his hands down into his lap, trapping them there.

"Don't you dare," she breathed.

He lifted his chin and kissed her brow, resting his temple against hers for a moment. She released his hands and sat back, and he lifted a brow at her.

"What kind of mood are you in, Mrs. Solo?" he asked, turning her earlier comment back on her.

Leia's stomach flipped – she usually felt a little dizzy when he called her that, even now – she had to bite back a smile, and quell a proud, victorious breed of butterflies in her stomach, but this time, the lurch was more than just the name – and she sighed, bowing her head.

"Hmm?" Han prompted, a little gruff. "What're you thinkin'? You okay?"

"How many times are you going to ask me that?" she answered, exasperated, as she lifted her head. She moved her head slightly, a hint of annoyance lining her lips as she pressed them together. It wasn't that she was annoyed with Han for caring – she was annoyed with herself for not yet being at the point where he didn't have to constantly check.

Leia ran her hands over her face, opening her eyes wide. She blinked a few times, waking up fully.

"I'm okay, Han," she said honestly. "They're just people. They aren't even…they're Padmé's people. Not his people."

At the word his, Leia gestured to her pillow, underneath which she'd tucked Shmi Skywalker's diary when she was done with it last night. Han arched a brow skeptically – sure, she said that, but they were associated with him, intimately. Though, technically Leia was too, so he supposed she was trying to find some healthy balance between wanting nothing to do with any of the Vader stuff, and not blaming people for sins that weren't theirs in the first place.

Han leaned back, considering her. He knew her – and she really did seem okay. She had known this was likely coming for weeks, and she'd decided for herself that she did want to meet the Naberries, if things worked well, so arranging everything had been a progression of something already in motion, rather than a huge shock. It was, as they'd already discussed, the best course of action they could find – the truth delivered from someone who had been there, and then private, quiet down time to meet each other, and reflect.

It was leagues different than how Leia had found out about Vader; Luke was better at his delivery, and the galaxy was stable enough to allow for both leave and deep breaths to be taken.

"What part's gonna be hardest for you?" Han asked critically.

Leia drew her knees up and draped her arms around them loosely, holding onto her wrist. She tapped the back of her hand lightly, tilting her head back and forth.

"Deciding to take this step was the hardest part," she said honestly. She hesitated, and then bit her lip, looking down to the side a little, introspective. "That's always how it is, for me. I agonize over the choice. I am always firm in the decision."

Han opened his mouth, and then shut it abruptly, and Leia gave him a sharp look.

"I know exactly where you were going with that," she said, a razor sharp edge cutting into her tone.

"I didn't say anything," Han said flatly.

"It's different, Han."

He just shrugged.

"I didn't say anything," he repeated.

He'd caught himself, because he didn't want to start an argument; he didn't want to kick off their Lake Country meet and greet by pissing off his wife, but every time he bit his tongue lately, he got a little more irritated that she didn't want to talk about this.

She had reacted so badly to that one minor scare.

He wasn't even asking her for anything right now – he sure as hell wasn't asking her to have a baby at this exact moment – what he wanted was a conversation that they obviously had to have at some point, but when they scratched the surface, she was spooked so badly she bolted across the apartment, if not out the door and to her office.

Han frowned to himself – he worried about her so much, so often. He'd seen that old look in her eyes, the one he knew so well; he could tell when Leia was struggling with something, and he knew how she could let it weigh her down, shut her down – he'd seen it with Alderaan, with Vader – he'd even been on the damn receiving end of it.

She was right – she agonized over decisions, and her feelings, and the right way of doing things, but she never wavered in conviction once she made a choice.

He was just…baffled. He'd always been the person Leia confided in, found shelter in, and sought comfort from, and yet she didn't want to talk to him about this at all. She attacked when he brought it up, and it was so impossible not to be faced with reminders of what they weren't talking about when the Media –

"Han, please stop looking at me like that," Leia said wearily, breaking into his thoughts.

He focused on her a little more clearly, thinking of the last time they'd had a fight about it –

Leia, you're shutting me out – this isn't fair –

Nothing happened! You're acting like we lost something and I wasn't even – stop, Han, please stop bringing this up –

He cleared his throat.

"Like what?" he asked, forcing gruffness into his tone. He gave her a casual shrug, shaking his head.

Leia took in her breath slowly.

"Like you're," she started, and to his surprise, her voice cracked. "Like you're not happy with me."

Han blinked a few times, taken aback. He grinned, and leaned forward, wrapping his arms around her in a tight hug.

"Just tryin' to figure you out," he said, resting his cheek on her head. "'M happy."

Leia nodded, and pulled back to look at him. She searched his eyes intently for a moment, and nodded, and Han touched her jaw with his thumb.

"This is stressin' you out," he said frankly, arching his brows.

Leia's lips trembled. She nodded.

"What if they don't like me?" she asked suddenly, in a hoarse whisper. "What if they look at me, and at Luke, and all they can see is – is – Vader."

Han ran his thumb under both of her eyes, shook his head, and leaned forward to kiss her brow, conveying his skepticism with a derisive noise.

"They'll like you," he said smugly. He gave her a wry look. "Y'know, be yourself."

"I was myself on Hoth and everyone thought I was a bitch."

Han rolled his eyes.

"Don't be public Leia," he retorted. He gave her a look. "You weren't yourself on Hoth," he added, arching a brow.

"I know," she agreed grudgingly, looking at him through her lashes.

"Be my Leia," Han suggested.

"I do not want to shock and scandalize my father," Leia quipped.

Han snorted.

"You're killin' me, Your Worship – fine, be…Chewie's Leia?"

Leia laughed.

"When did I get so many personalities?" she asked. She gave him a stern look – "And which one did you marry?"

Han's comlink lit up loudly across the room, and he glanced at it. He got up, pressed another kiss to Leia's lips – "All of them," he mumbled reassuringly, and released her to check the little device – it wasn't a call, just a coded message; he scanned the symbols.

"Luke's here," he muttered. He looked over at her. "You gonna get dressed? Wanna see 'im, or want me to chase him off?"

"No, I want to see him!" Leia said, perking up. She kicked the covers off of her and swung her legs off the bunk, bare feet touching the ground tentatively to test how cold it was. Finding it tolerable, she stood up, and stretched.

Han set aside his comlink to watch, his eyes drifting from her ankles, to her hips, to the skin that was exposed when she stretched her arms and her t-shirt rose up, to her face – where she flicked her eyelashes at him, and gave him a wry look.

"Aren't you ever tired of looking at me?" she asked, arching a brow.

She crossed the room to open a drawer and find something casual to throw on for breakfast – something appropriate to see Luke in. Han laughed sarcastically as an answer, wordlessly conveying what a ridiculous notion that was.

"Luke's going to go up with us," Leia murmured, selecting a pair of sweatpants with patches on the knees. "I asked him if he would," she said slowly, shaking out the pants. She shrugged. "I don't know, I think it…makes me feel a little more fortified. He's met them, so he can – guide me?" she frowned to herself. "I've been trying to find a way to make myself act less like a politician."

Han nodded.

"The drawstring in those is broken," he said, pointing at the hem of the pants.

Leia shrugged.

"I'll roll the waistband," she said, stepping back and slipping them on. She turned the waist down several times, and adjusted her t-shirt, then reached up to half-heartedly comb her fingers through her hair – presentable for her brother, after all, was a lot more relaxed than presentable for other people.

"There's kaffe already brewed," Han said. "I'll go take care of the docking fee, security," he said again, ticking off tasks on his fingers. "That won't take long – we're still gonna be early," he added, crossing his arms. "What do you want to do? Wanna check out the village?"

At the foot of the Lake Country, just before all of the private property began, was a small, bustling village full of bazaars and booths, all offering native comforts. Leia thought about it a moment – she was curious to see that sort of thing; she always liked seeing what other cultures had to offer – however –

"I think it might take me until the last minute to decide what to wear," she said flatly.

Han laughed. He ran his hand through her hair, dropped a kiss to her temple, and swept his comlink off the dresser, shoving it into his pocket. She turned to watch him unhook his belt and holster from the wall and hang it on deftly as he hit his knee against the unlock button for the bunkroom door.

"Yeah, alright, we'll just hang aground the Falcon," he agreed, running his hand along the doorway. "Old girl's gonna get lonely while we're up in the hills," he sighed, feigning a forlorn look.

Leia rolled her eyes.

"Given the choice, which is it, Han? Me or the ship?" she teased.

He pretended to think it over.

"Ahhh, you look better naked," he said.

He winked at her, and turned, boots echoing down the hall.

"I'll send Luke into the main hold," he yelled, his voice getting fainter.

Leia shook her head and turned, slipping into the 'fresher to run a toothbrush over her teeth and twist her hair into a quick braid – she'd focus on actually getting ready closer to the time they would transfer all of their luggage into one of the lake gondolas and make the journey up to the Naberrie family retreat.

She paused a moment to peer at her reflection, pressing her fingers thoughtfully against her nose, and then her jaw. She tilted her head at her eyes, and moved to the side a little to look at her ears – facial features, all genetic markers that she may have inherited from her mother's blood, or her father's. She knew she could consider Bail and Breha Organa her parents with every ounce of her heart – and she did, they were her parents, unequivocally – but these physical hand-me-downs, even down to the pale-as-snow hue of her skin, were the only parts of her that belonged purely to the Skywalkers, purely to the Naberries.

She sometimes wondered if that were the only way she would see herself in these people. This genetic evidence of her heritage was impossible to hide. Her own skin, pale where her parents' had been olive and tan, was a constant reminder that in her tiniest cells, she wasn't theirs, and that wouldn't be so daunting, perhaps, if not for the fact that half of her cells were Vader's cells, too.

Leia cleared her throat and abandoned her study of herself, leaving the bunkroom swiftly and finding her way into the main hold. Luke was already there, poking around the Dejarik table. He turned when he heard her in the hallway, and grinned.

"Did I wake you?" he asked, pointedly nodding at her attire.

"No," she said brightly. "I'm stalling. Kaffe?" she gestured at the decanter and cups Han had left on the table.

Luke shrugged.

"Is there cream?"

"There might be some honey. Han and I drink it black."

Luke made a face. He peered into the inky decanter, and shook his head, deciding against it.

"How can you stand to drink it like that?" he asked distastefully, watching Leia pour herself a mug. "It's just ruined, rotten water without cream," Luke whined. "It's not even a pleasant colour."

Leia laughed, swinging around the Dejarik table to sit down.

"You can just say 'No, Leia, I'll pass on the Kaffe.'"

"No," Luke said seriously. "I need to verbally abuse you about your tastes first."

"Sit down," Leia ordered, rolling her eyes. She pulled one leg up on the seat with her, her other brushing the floor lazily. She rested one arm over her knee, and held her kaffe mug against it, the warmth from the drink burning pleasantly through her sweatpants.

Luke obliged, sitting back comfortably.

"Where's your cape?" Leia asked smugly.

He gave her an annoyed look.

"It's a robe. I wear robes," he retorted. He gestured to his head. "With hoods, and sleeves – capes are for – villains."

Leia arched a brow, and Luke flushed, scowling.

"My robe is in my room at Varykino," he said. He shrugged – he was wearing a sleeveless tunic, too, Leia suddenly noticed. Sand-coloured, instead of black, and of lighter material than he wore on Coruscant. "It's hot up there," he said.

"Hmmm," Leia murmured, taking a sip of kaf. "Is it pretty?" she asked.

"Stunning," Luke said, without hesitation. "It's so silent, too. I mean, I grew up in a desert, so I was bound to think places like Coruscant are…horribly loud and crowded, but even Tatooine seems loud compared to this," he explained. "The birds even seem to chirp quieter."

"Perfect," Lei said dully, deadpan. "I'll be able to hear myself think."

Luke laughed a little. He shrugged – that was true. Varykino was a good place for reflection, and thinking, and sort of…puzzling things out.

"Well, most of the Naberries talk a lot," Luke said frankly. "I don't know if it's normal for them, or if they're just inquisitive. Pooja talks the most. She's like their mouthpiece," he said. He grinned a little. "She's their Bail."

Leia smiled, tilting her head. She took another sip, pleased with the idea. She liked Pooja; it seemed fitting that she would be the one handling things, sort of channeling them, for her family. She was Luke and Leia's generation, after all.

She cleared her throat softly.

"How is it?" she asked. "Still the same?"

Luke shrugged pleasantly and nodded, tilting his head back and forth. He put his legs up on the table and crossed them at the ankle, leaning back with his hands behind his head. He'd talked to Leia periodically since his first contact with their Naberrie side, just to give her an idea of how it was.

"They're nice people," he said sincerely. "You know, like I said, they took the first conversation in with a lot of…silence, and detached questions, and I think it's been sinking in. Bail told me Sola and Jobal really pressed him yesterday."

Leia leaned to the side a little, wedging her shoulder against the back of the booth.

"It can't all be smooth flying," she murmured skeptically, looking at him intently.

Luke nodded.

"Well, Ruwee is a very withdrawn man," he said slowly. "Sola's sharp, and very dry," he paused, and grinned: "I think you're really going to like her. You know your Father spoke with them, and made Padmé's funeral arrangements, back then, right?"

Leia nodded slowly, and Luke grinned.

"Well, I overheard Sola chastising him for not keeping in touch. She said Bail really ought to have sent them a note or something, if he was a good enough friend to watch Padmé give birth."

Leia's nose wrinkled. She laughed a little, clutching her mug.

"Ew," she murmured good-naturedly. She took another drink of kaffe, running over the names of these people in her head – Sola did sound like someone she'd get alone with.

She tossed her head, knocking her braid over her shoulder.

"And Vader?" she asked. "Are they still handling that well?"

"I don't know," Luke sighed. "I talked to Pooja about it a little. She said she couldn't conceptualize it. I think Anakin is just always going to be…Uncle Ani, to her."

Luke winced a little, in anticipation of Leia's reaction – and her reaction was, predictably, a grimace and a tight scowl, accompanied with a shiver. Luke nodded, a little fervent. He let out a breath he felt like he'd been holding –

"Actually I," he started. He moved one hand from behind his head and rubbed his nose almost sheepishly. "I've been feeling…relating to you, for the past few days?" he admitted, rubbing his ankles together.

Leia peered at him primly over the mug.

"How so?" she asked politely.

He smiled at her, tilting his head up.

"Ah, um," he drawled, like he was confessing to something he should have realized ages ago. "Well – Pooja tells all of these stories about Anakin, and Jobal mentions him off-hand, too, in positive ways, and it throws me," he admitted. "I know I saw Vader repent, and I try all the time to help you with seeing the good that was in him but," Luke shook his head, "I hear them talk about the man he was…and make him sound so flawless and full of light," he held up his mechanical hand, "my synthetic aches a little," he finished, apologetic.

Leia took a pointed sip of her kaffe, not breaking eye contact with him.

"Well, well, well," she drawled. "How the Sabacc hand has shifted."

She cocked an eyebrow at him, and then lowered her cup, smiling a little, so he'd know she wasn't angry.

"Take your moment," Luke said, exaggerating his contrition. He held his hands out, palms up flat. "Glory in your triumph."

"Luke," she snorted. She shook her head. Instead of commenting further on his sudden ability to relate to her, she leaned forward, placing her mug on the table. "It's unfathomable, isn't it?" she asked, choosing instead to connect with him over it. "That's what sent me over the edge a year ago," she reminded him. "Pooja. Standing in my office. Telling me she knew Anakin Skywalker must have died, because if he hadn't, he'd have carried her on her shoulders at Padmé's funeral."

Leia shook her head, eyes wide and wary.

"It's unfathomable," she repeated softly.

Luke frowned innocuously, nodding.

"The Naberries really seemed to have liked him," he added. "I thought that there would be, maybe some animosity, you know? We know the Jedi Order didn't allow attachments, so I know they were facing that obstacle. But I thought there might have been family issues."

"That they didn't like him," Leia murmured, "or that they fought a lot, he and Padmé."

"Exactly," Luke agreed. He shrugged quickly. "None of that. They loved him."

The twins looked at each other, and Leia sighed, running her finger around the rim of her mug. She wasn't sure what to make of it – well, then she was walking into a nest of people who perhaps had the opposite problem as her; the majority of them, save Jobal and Ruwee, who claimed to have known what happened, had to deal with the fallout of discovering one of their loved ones became Darth Vader – Leia had always struggled with the concept of one of her darkest enemies once being a respected, honorable man, by many accounts.

"This is strange," Leia whispered, her voice quivering just barely. "It was just us, Luke," she said, "and I think we barely had a grasp on that. Then my Father, and now," she paused, sighing. "There are so many of them. It's surreal."

"Yeah," Luke agreed, pulling at the collar of his tunic. He put his hands back behind his head. "I thought I might never find out much about who our mother even was, and then it turns out her family is…alive. Living normal lives."

He reflected for a moment, and then jolted, giving Leia an apologetic look.

"Birth mother," he corrected hastily. "I'm sorry I keep doing that."

Leia shook her head. She slid her hand around her mug again.

"It's okay," she soothed honestly. "I know you aren't intending to slight my mother," she said – a much different reaction than she would have had so many months ago, when any suggestion that she wasn't purely an Organa had rattled her to the core – even if she'd always known she was adopted, for such a long time, the Organa name, the Organa family, had been the only thing she could cling to that protected her from the looming darkness of Vader.

She was starting to ease herself into the idea that maybe Padmé's side of the tragedy could be a shield for her, too.

Luke looked relieved. Leia took a moment to drain most of the kaffe in her mug, closing her eyes to enjoy the warm bitterness of it. She leaned her head against the booth and relaxed her shoulders, thinking about the upcoming day – upcoming weeks.

"Can I ask…how Shmi's diary is coming along?" Luke ventured.

Leia took a moment before she opened her eyes. She looked at him for a moment, and then nodded – though he wasn't sure if she was telling him he could ask, or indicating it was going okay.

Leia had left the diary with Luke before leaving on her honeymoon. He kept it with him until abruptly, as they began to plan the contact with the Naberries, Han asked for it back. He'd cornered Luke and gruffly asked him to hand it over without bringing it up to Leia – she wanted to try reading it, but she didn't want Luke to crowd her about it.

"It's not giving me nightmares," she said flatly. She chewed on her lower lip. "Han reads it with me," she added.

He usually fell asleep on her shoulder fairly quickly, but she didn't fault him for that. It was his presence she needed.

"You getting anything out of it?" Luke asked.

Leia waved her hand – not dismissively, maybe more uncertainly. She chewed on her fingernail for a moment, and then shook her head kind of vaguely.

"It makes me sad," she said stiffly – and to herself, she thought: it scares me.

Shmi Skywalker's one and only concern, so far, seemed to be her son's well-being, and happiness. Leia knew, because of what her father had told them, that Shmi died before Anakin Skywalker finished his training – she never would have known what he became.

"What did you get out of it?" Leia asked him, a little tersely. "It humanized him for you?"

She sounded scornful now, and Luke shrugged, looking down at his lap for a moment.

"It gave me some ideas about what not to do with a new Jedi Order," he said dryly, and then breathed out slowly, thoughtfully. "Well, it's not really about Anakin, I guess. It's knowing that we aren't from a line of bloodthirsty tyrants. Shmi's nice."

Leia shifted uncomfortably.

Yes, that's what I'm scared of.

"What?" Luke asked, alarmed, wary. "What scares you?"

Leia jumped. She glared at him.

"That was – mine," she said.

"You projected it!"

She closed her eyes, refocused her mental walls, and then opened them, giving him a pointed look. He knocked on the door of her thoughts, and was rebuffed, and he grinned, inclining his head respectfully.

"My bad," he said mildly. "Leia?" he prompted.

Fear is a path to the dark side – Yoda's voice whispered in his ear, but so did Leia's, from last year – I want to be able to feel emotions a little recklessly.

She shook her head.

"Drop it, Luke," she warned – though she was gentle, and she thought, privately, securely behind her mental walls – I won't even talk to Han about it. I can't. I choke on the topic.

She sighed to herself, and reached for her mug, draining the rest of it.

"Anything I should know before I get up there?" she asked, smoothly redirecting the conversation.

Luke blinked a few times, and then swung his legs off the table, leaning forward seriously.

"Yes," he said emphatically. "Ryoo's kids know who we are because we're famous, but they haven't specifically been told they're related to us," he said. "No one is keeping it from them, it's just they're apparently ecstatic enough that Princess Leia's going to be in the same room with them, so no one wants to draw a diagram and tell them what a second cousin is for the very real fear that their heads will explode."

Leia looked startled, and then amused – and then she laughed.

"Oh, I'm sure they're much more excited about Luke Skywalker," she snorted, still often amused by the absurdity of the idealistic sort of lionization many of the Rebellion's heroes, previously known as the Empire's Most Wanted, received from some.

"It's intimidating," Luke said sheepishly. "I went face to face with Emperor Palpatine but these are kids, little ones. What if I don't live up?" he asked, half-serious.

Leia laughed again.

"I'm sure you will," she murmured, saying nothing for herself.

Luke lifted his shoulders loosely.

"They were on their way up when I headed down here," he said, "Ryoo and her family. Sola said she wanted to get them settled and calmed down before we arrived, so I'll meet the smallest ones at the same time as you. And Ryoo's husband – he was at home with them when Bail and I first talked to everyone."

Leia nodded. She held up three fingers.

"Indy, Iver, and Maiah," she listed. "Yes?" she clarified, making sure.

Her brother nodded. Leia twirled her empty kaffe cup around. She fell into a comfortable silence with Luke, yawning lazily, and shaking off the last reside of sleep – and it wasn't long before Han came stomping back up the ramp and strolling through the hold.

"Everyone here's real nice," he said suspiciously, and looked between them matter-of-factly. "Anyone want breakfast?"

Luke looked delighted at the offer – Han could make a mean breakfast – and put his hand up into the air smugly, like an excited kid. Leia rolled her eyes, and Han stepped up to pour himself a cup of kaffe, and refill hers – there was still a whole day ahead of them.

---

Pooja found her father in his study, listlessly tidying his desk. He hadn't used it for work in many years; Ruwee Naberrie had retired from public service shortly after his youngest daughter's death and the Imperial sack of Theed. Once the President of Naboo's Refugee Relief Movement and an accomplished architect responsible for building up strong villages, Ruwee now spent his days very selectively lending his hand to projects – though he had been approached in recent months, by the new young Queen, about coming back into service with refugee work.

It was not yet something Ruwee could bring himself to do, and Jobal had quietly told Pooja it had everything to do with losing Padmé.

"Gran-Papa," Pooja said softly, hoping not to startle him. "Gran-Mama wants to know if you've found any old holos of Padmé," she ventured.

Her father looked up, standing at his desk. He cleared his throat, and seemed to be about to quickly answer - -and then he shook his head, frowning.

"I best be honest with you, I suppose," he muttered. He tilted his head. "I haven't looked," he admitted grudgingly.

Pooja crossed her arms, and shrugged, non-combative.

"It's alright," she assured him. "Gran-Mama assumed that was the case."

"I will likely need Whyler to rummage through our old hard drives in any case," Ruwee said shortly. "I think that most of the physical copies were taken when Vader ransacked the house."

"She thinks there's more of a chance that things were missed up here," Pooja noted.

"Well, there's that trunk your grandmother saved, up in the insulated attic," Ruwee said gruffly. "Though I do not think it has any holo chips in it. It's clothing, mostly. Shoes, perhaps. All out of fashion," he added, snorting a bit. "I can't imagine what Leia Organa would want with a trunk full of outdated dresses."

Pooja tilted her head, thinking of what Luke had told her about hearing her memories – connection.

"Connection," she said aloud. "Tangible proof that she existed."

"Hmpf," Ruwee mumbled.

"Right now all they have is what they know about Darth Vader," Pooja mentioned slowly. "The Empire obliterated all the records of her. She's just a phantom. We're really all they have, when it comes to…personal history."

Ruwee sighed. He walked to the window of his office and stared out along a broad expanse of the landscape, his eyes on the lightly rippling lake. He thought of all the days he'd spent here when it was newly theirs, one of the first truly luxurious purchases he'd been able to make – Sola and Padmé running through the halls ecstatically while Jobal tried to chase them, afraid they would fall on stairs or leap off a balcony railing.

"Is that what you think they want?" he asked quietly. "For us to paint them a picture?"

Pooja entered the room, running her hands up and down her arms. She came to stand with her grandfather at the window, peering out at his side.

"I don't think what they're doing seems unnatural," she said slowly. "I haven't had any personal discussion with Princess Leia about this – save for when she asked me about Ani – but I know it's important to Luke that he learn about his mother."

Pooja looked over at him, studying his profile.

"I don't think what they're doing is unnatural," she repeated.

"No, not unnatural," Ruwee agreed, his expression fixed. "What I wonder is – why now?"

Pooja cocked an eyebrow.

"Well, Bail's just told them – "

"They have known for more than a year," Ruwee said flatly.

Pooja sighed.

"Yes, I understand that. I also can see why leaping in a ship and flying straight to Theed to see us was nearly impossible to do immediately after Bail Organa was pulled from the wreckage of Alderaan," she argued, a little shortly.

Ruwee nodded, shifting his weight back and forth.

"No consideration was given to contacting Jobal and I during the Empire's reign," he said tersely. "Not an effort made."

Pooja bit the inside of her lip.

"Gran-Papa, it was dangerous. You must know that – particularly if you really did know Ani turned into…V-Vader."

Ruwee nodded again, shrugging.

"Yet you have Luke given to Anakin's stepbrother," he said bitterly.

Pooja was silent. She had no answer for her grandfather; she hadn't been there then, and she barely knew the people who had been involved in it. She thought she might have met Ben Kenobi once, but she could be confusing him with a different male Jedi with a blue lightsaber – and Bail she did not remember at all.

"Bail Organa stood in our sitting room twenty-five years ago and told us Padmé had been killed with some of the Jedi in a final stand against the Sith," he murmured, his eyes almost glazing over as he remembered. "Killed, without coming to term. He looked us in the eyes and told us that, all the while preparing to take her daughter home with him."

Pooja worried her bottom lip with her teeth, unfolding her arms and clasping her hands together. She twisted her fingers tensely, and let out a short sigh.

"I can't speak for the Viceroy," she said finally. "I think he meant well – "

"I think he saw an opportunity," Ruwee said flatly.

"Again," Pooja said quietly – calmly drawing on her senatorial skills. "I can't speak for him. It isn't Luke and Leia's fault, though. They didn't know. Luke says it was them who chose to initiate this. They want to know us. To know you, Gran-Papa."

He sighed very quietly.

"Oh, I have nothing against the children," he said softly.

He kept going back to what ifs – what if Organa had never been rescued, had never reappeared after all of these years; would they ever have come to know Luke and Leia, Padmé's children? To hear Luke tell it, they hadn't the slightest inkling of who their mother could be until the viceroy had enlightened them, so without that connection – ignorance was bliss, to be sure.

Ruwee struggled, though. He struggled with the idea of coming face of face with Padmé's children, because it reignited the awful, indescribable pain of losing his daughter, and it left him with this dull, throbbing anger over what he now perceived as a double loss – his grandchildren stolen and scattered, one of them, at least, to something close to family, but the other – ! Crowned as the sole heiress of a prominent dynasty, placed in such a high profile position, given the same burdens and responsibilities that Padmé had taken on when she herself was so young and so innocent, burdens and responsibilities that had ultimately created the powder keg of personal and professional conflict that killed her –

He felt deprived, and he felt a staggering sense of guilt – he hadn't known about the twins, but if he had, he wouldn't have failed them like he failed Padmé – Luke had been taken and raised like Anakin, Obi-Wan Kenobi's chance to redeem his mistakes, and Leia had been sent almost directly in Padmé's footsteps –

"I could almost believe it, that they thought only of their safety," Ruwee said quietly, "if not for the fact that Bail Organa raised that girl center stage of the Empire."

He turned his head, focusing on the top of a mountain, fuzzy and unfocused, far off in the distance.

"Jobal and I…we would have let them be children," he said heavily.

Like I should have let Padmé be a child.

He had never pushed Padmé; no, never. But he had let himself become star-struck, so proud - if he could go back now, though – he'd shred those first aptitude scores that identified her as brilliant; he'd slam the door in Senator Palpatine's face when the old man came sniffing around, encouraging ten-year-old Padmé to run for Princess of Theed, he'd have loved her without taking pride in how far his family had risen through hard work and sheer intelligence –

He'd have insisted she have her childhood, her entire childhood, and nothing else, until she was a legal adult - -and then he'd have handed her the reins.

If he could go back now, he'd be more of a father and less of a mentor; he'd stand as a guard against the powerful who would raise her high, just as his own parents had refused the Jedi Order when they came asking for him.

As an adult, Padmé had every right to make her own decisions and walk her own path, to be reckless, to face danger, to shout about injustice at the top of her lungs, to bear responsibility for her own actions, but as a child – some of the weight had to fall on him, and on her mother, and all these years Ruwee had never stopped thinking he had failed her.

If I had never let Sheev get his claws in her –

Screams echoed through the mansion, followed by laughter, and slamming footsteps, and Ruwee turned his head.

"Who has been screaming all morning?" he asked patiently.

"Maiah, mostly," Pooja answered, grinning. "Can't you tell?"

"No," Ruwee said, laughing a little. "After raising two daughters and two granddaughters, your screams all run together."

Pooja laughed.

"Well, she's playing Rebels with the boys," she said. "Maiah was pretending to be Princess Leia, but she has since switched to calling herself Shara Bey."

"Hmm," Ruwee muttered.

"Whyler told her if she didn't stop impersonating Leia, the real Princess was going to think she was weird and not want to play with her."

Ruwee shot a dark look at Pooja.

"Whyler is an ass," he said in a clipped tone – Ruwee was perhaps the only one who had not particularly come around to Ryoo's tall, muscular, tattooed husband.

Pooja giggled.

"He's effective, though. He also took away the stick Indy painted to look like a lightsaber. Mostly because he was smacking Iver with it, but also because they don't want Luke to think we take the Jedi lightly."

"We certainly do not," Ruwee said, a bit grimly.

Pooja tilted her head at her grandfather.

"Are you going to talk to Luke about your brush with the Jedi Order?" she asked. "The two of you may find some common ground there."

"Brush," Ruwee mumbled, quoting her. He turned to face her, shaking his head. "It was hardly a brush. My parents refused to give me up," he said. "I was on the cusp of the level of sensitivity they require," he explained. "They didn't intend to take me on as a Jedi Knight. They wanted me to apprentice with the Healers, so they could study my cells. It was a somewhat commonplace."

"He'd be interested," Pooja said quietly. "I said nothing because it isn't my place to tell, but he'd like to know. I know he would."

She tilted her head.

"I've always wondered why none of us were capable of being Jedi," she mused.

Ruwee shrugged.

"Perhaps if the Healers had gotten me, we would know," he said wryly, sharing a look with her. "It's a mysterious thing, the Force," he said respectfully. "The Jedi Order was always searching for more knowledge on how precisely it worked. You and Ryoo were both tested at birth, of course – everyone in the Old Republic was," he explained matter-of-factly. "Neither of you had an above normal cell sensitivity."

"What about Padmé?" Pooja asked rapidly.

Ruwee shook his head.

"No, she was unremarkable on that front," he said. "Remarkable in almost everything else," he murmured. "Your mother, as well – but that didn't surprise me. My cell sensitivity was so…erratic. In situ, they called it, then," he explained slowly. "They would often watch a family to find the precise individual who finally inherited a trainable sensitivity."

Pooja looked over her shoulder at the sound of an outraged, muffled shriek.

"Maaaaaiaaaaah! STOP IT!"

"I'm telling Mom!"

Then, Ryoo – "I will send your father in there in five-four-three – "

Silence from the children.

"What about them?" Pooja asked softly.

Ruwee turned, and followed her gaze towards the door of his study. He didn't know – they had been born after the fall of the Republic, when the Jedi had been exterminated, and families prayed to all of their Gods and to all of their heavens that their children had nothing extraordinary about them.

"You're right," she said. "It's a mysterious entity."

"It's a matter of degrees," Ruwee said thoughtfully. "The Force exists for all beings. There are merely some who find themselves with the power to touch it. And that power, my dear, can be a precious and dangerous thing."

"You haven't talked like this since I was young," she remarked softly.

Ruwee was silent for a moment. Despite the animosity he felt concerning some of the revelations he had heard lately, he did mean it when he did not intend to take it out on Luke and Leia – he did not intend to. He was reminded of the pain of the past, surely, but also of some of the wisdom he used to value.

"Perhaps it is the simple fact of having a Jedi in the house," he said quietly. "Luke Skywalker seems to be the sort of Jedi I remember. The sort they strove to be."

He turned to look at Pooja seriously.

"I still find myself questioning the motives behind this, Pooja," he admitted with a sigh.

She gave him a look of slight frustration.

"It can't be that hard to believe that they simply want to know us," she said.

He lifted his shoulders – he thought that was perfectly valid; he was just wary, and suspicious, and he wouldn't be able to put that behind him at the snap of a finger.

"It isn't hard to believe," he answered quietly. "As you said, it's natural, even. It also seems calculated – there was so much fanfare recently in recovering the past," he hesitated, referencing how often Padmé's name had been in the intergalactic news lately, one of the many who was resurrected and lauded in an effort to restructure history truthfully, rather than how the Empire had taught it.

"You think they have an ulterior motive?" Pooja asked, exasperated.

Ruwee was careful with his words.

"I think there is a lot of personal risk in not only publicly confirming the sibling relationship between Luke and Leia, but returning a spotlight to the name Padmé Naberrie - -and with Luke so publicly bearing Anakin's surname."

He lowered his chin.

"We aren't the only ones alive who still remember, Pooja," he said. "We can't be. Such a notion is absurd. There will be connections made."

"Who cares if it becomes common knowledge that their mother and father are Anakin Skywalker and Padmé Naberrie?" Pooja asked flippantly. "She was a well-respected politician, and he was a Jedi hero!"

Ruwee's one word response –

"Was."

- was cool, and withdrawn, a little wary – and tragic.

Pooja compressed her lips.

"What I wonder is – if you were Princess Leia, if you were in a position of immeasurable power in a new democratic government – would you want anyone discovering the truth about Anakin Skywalker?"

Ruwee's mind turned sharply – he understood politics; he was a shrewd man, and he'd studied with Padmé – he'd been there with her, advised her, learned with her, worked with her, as a father, and as a citizen in his own right.

"It shouldn't matter," Pooja said firmly. "She's – "

"Do not be naïve," Ruwee said. "Be earnest, and kind, and just, but never be naïve," he corrected. "It will matter. To many."

Pooja swallowed hard – yes, she knew it would. To the same people who looked at Princess Leia's choice in husband an saw only a stain on a royal house; and to anyone who could harness the knowledge and cleverly twist it to make Princess Leia seem like a villain, and wrench power away from her.

"Why, then," Ruwee said quietly, "would she – and I speak of her, because it is clear to me that Luke has no political ambitions, or hasn't thought too much about how badly people will mistrust him if this gets out – why would she risk even the slightest chance of it getting out?"

Her grandfather stared at her pointedly, and Pooja compressed her lips, thinking – from what she knew, this secret was fairly airtight. She thought of her lone conversation with Princess Leia about it, last year – she had thought she was letting her down easy when she told her Padmé died pregnant, but she also remembered clearly stating that she always wondered if Anakin was Luke's father. Was the name Skywalker common – perhaps; among the masses, who knew? But to anyone who vividly remembered the larger-than-life young Jedi, their minds would automatically go back to him when they heard Luke's name – and with it public knowledge that Leia was the biological twin of Luke –

Pooja couldn't very well see a way in which someone would easily find out, but then again, there was an entire department of the New Republic devoted to cataloguing, decoding, and making transparent all of the old Imperial records, and if something were to be found in Palpatine's things, if something buried deep in Vader's early communications –

If Padmé's things were ever found in that ruined excavation Vader called a home, on Mustafar –

"I," Pooja started. "Well, when I puzzle it out it seems as if…the galaxy is being conditioned."

"Do you think for a second that a woman as smart as Leia Organa is reputed to be would risk this secret being snatched out of her hands?" Ruwee demanded.

Pooja swallowed hard.

"You think she's going to go public," she said suddenly, her voice hushed.

Ruwee's expression was a little proud; to see she'd figured it out, and a little dull.

"Seeing us first is a professional courtesy," he said quietly. "That is why they are here."

Pooja turned away, pacing the office. She felt disheartened by his pessimism – she felt like she'd spent years with Luke these past few days, and not once had he mentioned anything like that; he was kind, and friendly, and peaceful. Pooja knew Princess Leia to be starkly different from her brother, judging by what she knew of her in a professional sense, but even when others had called the Princess cold and stone-hearted, Pooja had never quite believed it.

Ruwee's assumption added a level of the impersonal to the whole affair, and now that she considered it, Pooja would not be surprised if Leia was angling for a public announcement – from a political standpoint, it would be infinitely better to control the narrative herself, rather than risk the chance – even if it was the slimmest of chances – of a malicious party getting the drop on her.

She looked up, and over at her grandfather's back.

"I think it's smart of her, then," she said bravely - -and continued: "Gran-Papa, I really don't think that's all it is."

She was confident in that much, at least - -after all, what was the point in professional courtesy if they had no real professional relationship at all? Princes Leia, and Luke, and the Viceroy, could have pulled Pooja aside and told her, she was their professional, they could have left her to deal with the fallout.

Instead, they had reached out – they had asked if the Naberries wanted to have any contact, and they had set aside time to spend a fortnight together – that was more than perfunctory political maneuvering, Pooja felt it in her soul – though if her grandfather needed to protect himself, and his broken heart, by trying to remain aloof – she could allow that, for the time being, and hope that he would see things differently in time.

---

Leia had settled on clothing that was just a tiny step up from casual – tailored, tanned leather white pants with pattern in charcoal down each side, comfortable, flat ivory boots, and a blouse that was somewhat like Luke's tunic, except it was white, entirely cotton, and possessed of a thin, fashionable hood that wasn't really there for any reason other than to look neat.

She let it hang down her back, and retied the white cloth belt around the middle of the tunic, peering over the side of the gondola into the clearest lake water she'd seen in quite a long time.

Since Alderaan, she thought, looking up, eyes gazing about the clear blue skies and the ancient mountains that peppered this region – interesting, how the Lake Country wasn't a sea-level-esque coastal town, but a mountainous haven where the lakes found their niches in deep pockets, and the resorts were built in the lush valleys and cliffs on the edge of the water.

Leia shifted onto her knees, looking around her alertly, and when she turned a little, she felt Han reach up and place both hands on her hips, giving her a wary look.

"You're gonna flip the balance," he muttered grimly, shooting both the restful water, and the gondola captain, a wary look.

She tilted her head down at him, and then returned to her seat, moving a little closer to his side. He slid his arm around her waist, and Luke sat forward, pointing up towards a cluster of trees on the far side of the lake.

"There's a field over there where wild Shaaks roam," he said. "Pooja told me Anakin used to take them over there and make a fool of himself trying to ride them."

Han glanced over, and gave Luke a look.

"He took a couple kids to hang out with wild animals. Nice guy," he said dully.

Luke glared at him.

"Shaaks are less harmless than thrantas and you know it," he retorted. "And she," Luke pointed at Luke accusingly, "grew up practically glued to a thranta."

Han looked to Leia expectantly, and she shrugged at him, nodding.

"I did love my thranta," she confirmed.

He scowled a little, and she patted his arm blithely.

"You're my thranta now, dear," she said, patronizing.

Luke laughed. Han scooped water up in his palm and flicked it at the kid.

"Hey," grumbled Luke, wiping his face. "You better behave yourself," he ordered.

Han gave him an innocent look.

"I always behave," he said seriously.

Leia bit her lip, and grinned – joking aside, she knew Han was going to be on his best behavior for this meeting. The best way to ensure Han handled himself as decently as possible was to imply to him that any infraction would cause Leia a large amount of stress and – voila, he acted as if he'd never so much as considered breaking a law in his life.

Usually.

He at least – tried twice as hard to control himself.

"We'll be approaching the dock," the gondola captain said in his soft, mellow, and unassuming voice. "Be wary of the moss; it can be quite slick."

Han checked the bottom of his boots, scrubbing his hand along the sole to see if he had good traction. Leia grabbed his hand, giving his palm an outraged look –

"You have – to shake – someone's hand," she hissed, brushing at the dirt he'd accumulated. "What is the matter with you?" she demanded. "Your hand is all dirty!"

Han wrestled his hand back and casually dusted it off on his pants, giving her a smug look.

"Is that your go-to stalling tactic?" he asked, amused. "Bring up someone's dirty hands and try to make a run for it?"

"What?" Luke asked, confused.

Leia glared at Han. Han shot Luke grin.

"She got dirty hands the first time I tried to kiss her," he announced, as if it were a flu she'd developed in the moment.

"My hands were dirty," Leia said narrowly.

"Yeah, so were mine – still a stupid excuse," Han retorted.

Luke gave them a dull glare, and turned an exasperated look on the gondola captain – leave it to Han and Leia to get into a tense little bickering match over something that happened six years ago.

"Excuse? I believe you kissed me anyway!"

"'Cause I could see right through your alleged concern for my health."

Leia rolled her eyes.

"Besides," Han retorted. "My tongue was clean."

Luke groaned.

"I will push you into the lake, Han," Leia threatened.

He pulled her closer to him and she kicked his ankle half-heartedly.

"You two got more annoying after you got married," Luke muttered.

Han ignored him, and showed Leia his palm.

"It's not bad," he said quietly. "You're just fixating."

Leia nodded stiffly. She leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees, letting Han's arm remain loosely around her waist, and she watched the shore approach, her eyes drifting up, up, up – to Varykino, perched so beautifully on the cliffs.

"There are carved stone steps up to the front entrance," Luke said, gesturing past the dock. "The moss isn't so bad on them, though – thank you," he said to the captain, as the gondola brushed gently against the pier.

Luke hopped out with his usual agility, turning to wait. Han swung up onto the pier using one of the wooden posts, and then reached down to take Leia's hand, helping her keep her balance on the step up from the small boat. She smiled at him, and thanked the gondola captain, who bowed low, without a word, and gracefully departed.

Luke beckoned, and turned, leading the way. Leia paused to take a deep breath, and she and Han followed suit – she did not let go of his hand, though her grip was loose. It was a surprising hike up to the place where Varykino was situated, and Han found himself looking up as they ascended, already impressed with the size of the mansion – seemed more like it should be someone's bed-and-breakfast resort rather than one family's private lake home –

He stopped to remind himself that he had married into that sort of thing. Mansions and palaces and – that mountain cabin on Corellia Leia bought. He arched an eyebrow to himself – this place was grander than that, though; Leia's more subdued architectural tastes shined in the Corellian hideaway.

Luke hopped up the final step and then paused, waiting again – and instead of leading them directly to the paved and shining front porch, where grandiose columns clearly established the front entrance, he took a path around to the back – a well-keep, neat little courtyard, with elegant stone benches, flowers, trees, fruit bushes – and, Leia noticed, children's toys strewn around; a training speeder, two dolls, a garishly painted fake blaster.

She stopped when Luke stopped, and he stood at the door with her, studying her patiently.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

Leia looked back at him silently. She tightened her grip on Han's hand a little, and gave a small, smooth nod – yes; ready – decision made, already committed – and truth be told, her curiosity had gotten stronger, gotten the better of her, with every minute that this inched closer.

Luke lifted a brass doorknocker, and clicked it twice against the door - gently.

Leia heard footsteps immediately, and held her breath – only to have the first person she saw when the door swung open be her father. She took a step back, startled, and then narrowed her eyes, glaring at him.

"Father," she hissed – if she'd stomped her foot, she might have looked exactly like she did when she was a teenager, minus the man hanging on her arm.

Bail grinned a little apologetically.

"They didn't want to ambush you at the door," he said, stepping back and ushering them in.

Luke went in easily, familiar with it, and Leia forced herself to follow with the same appearance of grace, tugging Han behind her. Bail went to shut the door, giving Han's hand an annoyed look.

"You can let go of her," he said.

Han shook his head.

"No, I can't," he said flatly – Leia was holding too tight.

"He can't," Leia echoed. "I glued his fingers to mine," she said, almost caustically. She stopped, standing close to him, and looking about the muted, unassuming back entrance to the house.

She kept her hand in Han's, and looked at her father apprehensively, drawing strength from his warmth. She raised her eyebrows – well, Father? – and he nodded, tilting his head.

"They're gathered in one of the sunrooms," he said.

Luke grinned, and strode off in that direction.

"One of the sunrooms?" Han asked.

"Yes," Bail said, turning a beady look on Han. "This is a rather nice place, so you might have considered wearing a clean shirt."

Han plucked at the collar of his white shirt.

"This is clean, Dad," he retorted. "It's just yellow-ish 'cause it's old."

"Oh, wonderful. That's cheering."

"Lighten up," Han ordered.

"Leia, can't you buy him some new clothes?" Bail asked shortly.

Leia blinked, turning her head – she'd been watching after Luke. She seemed to shake herself, and rolled her eyes – she tended to tune them out when they bickered, since it was mostly innocuous ribbing, these days.

"Are we going to stand in the foyer all afternoon?" Leia asked pointedly.

Bail cleared his throat, and turned, beckoning. He led them through open corridors, and Han busied himself looking around, while Leia stayed close on her father's heels. She steadied herself by reaching out to Luke through the Force, very tentatively, and he happily offered her a firm, ethereal hand.

They're really nice people, Leia. They're so good.

Leia nodded, and took a deep breath, entering the sunroom so firmly behind her father that for a moment, she was almost hiding behind him, like she used to when she was very small, and he was meeting with scary, imposing Imperial figures.

"Well," to Leia's surprise, it was Luke who began, rather than her Father, though she couldn't tell if it was choreographed that way, or if Luke just caught Bail off guard. Bail stepped to the side as Leia stepped forward, hastily moving into view to avoid seeming rude.

She tried to get a good view of the room she was facing as Luke spoke –

"So, this is my sister," he said, making up for what he lacked in refinery with genuine heart, "Leia," he introduced, a sort of amused smile on his face. "I know you know who she is but," he shrugged, and then he pointed to Han. "And her husband, Han," he added.

He ran a hand over his jaw a little sheepishly – it did seem odd to introduce them, famous as they were, but it seemed odd not to introduce them, and Leia found it to be a good idea, at least, that he just spoke of them as Leia and Han. No titles, not official recognition – that's who they were here to be, after all; simply Leia and Han.

Leia counted six people gathered in the room – she wasn't sure who was missing, other than the littlest children, because she wasn't sure who was who; it was one of the husbands who was absent – and the first person who spoke was not the woman who was approaching her.

"Ah, yes; I think we've heard of them," a woman standing next to Pooja said, and Pooja laughed at the lighthearted joke.

Leia had only a moment to smile a little appreciatively before the woman standing in front of her was consuming her vision. She looked at her earnestly, studying Leia's face with intensity Leia hadn't quite anticipated – and she hoped she was living up. Her eyes creased with happiness, and she clasped her hands, raising her fingertips to her lips for a moment. She took a deep breath, and then held out her hand.

"I'm Jobal," she said kindly. "Padmé's mother."

The moment Leia accepted her hand to shake, Jobal covered it with her other hand, pressing warmly. Leia nodded to her, finally slipping her other hand from Han's. He folded his arms patiently, taking one step back to give Leia some room – and Pooja stepped up next.

"This is Sola," she said, practically dragging her mother with her. "My mother," she reminded Leia. "She's Padmé's sister."

Jobal released Leia so Leia could shake Sola's hand, as well, and Sola smiled at her matter-of-factly, exuding intelligence, and a good sense of humor.

"I'll tell you what we've told Luke," she remarked, "you've really grown since we last saw you," she quipped wryly.

Leia arched her brows, unsure how to react for a moment.

Han, however, snorted.

"Han, it's good to meet you," Sola said, extending her hand to him. "I've noted that you appreciate my jokes. I'll remember that."

Han shook her hand firmly, smirking. Jobal and Sola switched places as Jobal introduced herself to Han, and Sola leaned in to kiss Leia's cheek.

"It will be overwhelming for a moment," she said frankly. "We fawned over Luke, as well – Darred?"

She waved her hand, stepping to the side, and placed her hand on the approaching man's shoulder.

"My husband, Darred," she said. "He took my name when we were married. It was at the height of Padmé's career. Carried a lot of power," she remarked.

Darred rolled his eyes and shook Leia's hand.

"Nice to meet you, Princess."

"Leia, please," she said immediately, flushing.

He nodded.

"Leia," he agreed.

Darred moved on to Han – and Sola gestured.

"You know Pooja, of course; she's my youngest and Ryoo – well, Ryoo and Whyler have both disappeared," Sola frowned, looking consternated.

The remaining man in the room stepped up, his expression quiet.

"Ryoo went to tend to some minor histrionics," he said, stepping up beside Jobal.

He looked at Leia for a very long moment, silent, and thoughtful. He extended his hand stiffly, cautiously even, and cleared his throat.

"Ruwee Naberrie," he said quietly. "Padmé's father."

Leia took his hand. His shake was very firm, and he looked at her intently - but Leia also felt like he was looking through her. She did not miss the slight glance he made over her shoulder, towards her father, and she wondered what was simmering there.

Han seemed to sense the heaviness of Ruwee's scrutiny, and he cleared his throat, barging in with his hand.

"Han Solo," he said, in a tone so polite that Leia could practically feel her father having a coronary – shaking hands and saying – "Nice to meet you, sir." – was a far cry from Han's first interaction with Bail, in which he'd stormed into the room without a shirt on and essentially yelled at Bail to get out of his apartment.

"Hush, hush, darling."

Leia heard another voice and looked up, her eyes catching Ruwee's again – he seemed so withdrawn, so uncertain, and it rattled her a little. She supposed it was grief, shock, everything – but a distraction from that came in the form of a woman she assumed was Ryoo, Pooja's older sister.

Ryoo approached them politely, with a much kinder smile on her face than her father's, and a much less reserved quietude. She was holding a young child, and the little girl was twisting one of Ryoo's braids in her hands, whispering in her ear.

"Hush," Ryoo said again, giving Leia a look that read like – please bear with me. She stopped with a sigh in front of Leia.

"I'm sorry, my husband and I have been trying to contain these monsters," she said fondly, nodding her head at the girl, obviously referencing her other children, as well. "We're more than happy to meet you," she said, nodding at both Leia, and Han, " and if you'll forgive me, ah, General Solo, my daughter wanted to tell you something. She's been anxious all afternoon."

Han looked taken aback. He glanced at Leia, and then glanced at Ryoo's daughter – five years old, he remembered Leia saying - but small for her age, and she was staring at him with wide eyes.

Ryoo nudged her.

"Maiah," she coaxed.

The little girl pointed at Han.

"You're pretty," she told him.

Luke started laughing.

Ryoo rolled her eyes apologetically.

"She's seen you on the holos," she said. "She really wanted to make sure you knew," she added solemnly.

"Oh," Han said, shooting a look at Luke for his muffled laughter. "Well, uh. Thanks," he said seriously, looking straight at the little girl.

She immediately buried her face in Ryoo's neck, and Ryoo laughed, patting her head.

"Oh, now don't hide!" she teased.

"Hmm, as if he needs another thing going to his head," Leia remarked, reaching out to lightly touch Han's elbow.

He grinned at her.

"My boys are around here somewhere," Ryoo said.

"They're in the garden."

Ryoo turned, and stepped aside for the last adult.

"They're going to kill each other. I give up. I can't stop it," the man said, shaking his head. He leaned in and gave Ryoo a kiss on the cheek and then turned to Han and Leia. He put his hand out firmly. "Whyler Vex," he said gruffly.

"My husband," Ryoo offered.

"He's our family Han," Sola remarked wryly, as Whyler was letting go of Leia's hand, and turning to take Han's.

"What's that mean for you?" Han asked him, giving the room a wary look.

"Ah," Whyler said dryly. "Means Ryoo's parents hated me at first," he said.

"Been there," Han said, jerking his thumb at Bail.

"I never hated Han," Bail argued diplomatically. "We had our differences – "

"Well, they hated me," Whyler said cheerfully. He stepped back and nudged Ruwee with what Leia would call a certain amount of bravery. "Ol' Naberrie here still does," he said flippantly.

"Yes, Jobal, I can see what you meant about them getting along," Bail said dryly, looking between Whyler and Han.

"How'd you win 'em over?" Han asked crossing his arms.

Whyler turned to Ryoo and took Maiah from her, smirking.

"Gave 'em this," he said, looking down at her. "Ain't that right, baby?"

Maiah giggled at him. She put her hand over his mouth.

"Shhh, Daddy," she whispered. She lifted her head and looked around the room, tilting her head. She reached up and pulled at the two knots on her head keeping her hair back. She leaned over and whispered something to Whyler.

"No," he said lightly, shaking his head. He bent down to place her on the ground, and gave her a little nudge on the shoulders. "Go save your brothers from themselves," he said seriously.

Little Maiah Vex stood at his foot, snaking her arm around his leg and resting her head on his knee.

"What does she want?" Ryoo murmured, looking quizzically.

Whyler gave her a look, and nodded at Han.

"She wants him to pick her up."

Ryoo laughed.

"Maiah, go play," she said.

Maiah grinned at Han instead.

He felt Luke staring at him – and Jobal, and Bail too, for that matter, and feeling very judged suddenly – if also very uncomfortable – Han cleared his throat.

"I can – well that's – it's easy right?" he stammered. He crouched down and put one arm out.

"Have you ever held a baby?" Luke asked, snorting mockingly.

"She's not a baby, Luke," Pooja laughed, mocking him right back.

Maiah leapt away from her father and tiptoed over to Han silently. He hesitated for a moment, and then picked her up – she was light as a feather, which surprised him even though it shouldn't have. He put her on his hip, finding it a pretty automatically natural movement, and arched his brows at her.

Maiah turned and gave her parents a smug smile. Han cleared his throat, proud of himself. He turned smugly to gauge Bail's reaction. Next to him, Leia made eye contact with the little girl, and smiled at her guardedly.

She leaned across Han and put her hand on Leia's shoulder, plucking at her blouse.

"Sooo pretty," she sang, blushing, and Leia wasn't sure if she was talking about herself, or still talking about Han.

Han grinned.

"Hey, the kid's got good taste," he said.

"You ought to watch out, Leia," Sola said wryly. "My granddaughter is angling for your man."

"That's enough, alright," Ryoo said with a laugh. "Whyler – take her back." Her tone was lighthearted, but she gave her husband a somewhat annoyed look – she didn't know if Han and Leia liked children, and Whyler hadn't stepped in quick enough to put a stop to Maiah's clinginess.

He stepped up to oblige, but not before Han caught sight of Leia watching him. Letting Whyler take Maiah, he tilted his head at Leia subtly, lifting his eyebrows, and her eyes looked icy for a moment, then blank – and she turned her gaze away.

Han grit his teeth a little – kriff, she was going to think he did that on purpose, tried to argue with her without explicitly arguing with her –

His line of thought was, thankfully, interrupted by a piercing shriek – Whyler was putting Maiah down on the floor, and as he did, an older child came charging in, followed closely by a younger one whom Leia assumed was Maiah's twin.

The older one leapt up towards Ryoo, attaching himself to her side and eyeing the newcomers sharply. The little one mimicked the same position, except with his father, and Ryoo gave Han and Leia another apologetic look.

"This is Iver," Whyler said, pointing to the boy at his feet – he looked just like Maiah, except he was male, and much less immediately infatuated with Han. "And that – "

"Let him do it," Ryoo interrupted.

Ryoo put her hands on the boy's shoulders encouragingly and moved him forward, having him stand directly in front of her, and he stared up at both Luke and Han like they were Gods, eyes wide, hands clasped in front of him excitedly.

He fidgeted, moving from foot to foot.

"Are they the real ones?" he asked in a very loud whisper.

Stepping back a little, because she assumed she was of no interest to the boys – and she hadn't been of much interest to Maiah, either – Leia exchanged an amused look with her father.

"Yes," Ryoo said wryly. She nodded. "Luke Skywalker," she introduced, "and Han Solo."

"From the battles?" he asked. "The real space battles? Are you sure? You promise?"

Ryoo laughed.

"Yes," she said again. "Would I lie to you? How did I teach you to greet people?"

He stuck his hand out shyly, and Luke moved forward, kneeling down and taking it gallantly.

"Hey there," he said, shaking firmly.

Ryoo's son grinned, shaking it enthusiastically, then rapidly withdrew his hand and offered it to Han next. Han, a little bewildered, stepped closer and shook it. He found himself impressed with the kid's grip – but it was probably enthusiasm, rather than knowing how to deliver a good handshake.

"Can I see your ship?" he asked seriously. He turned to Luke. "Can I see your lightsaber?" He widened his eyes. "Are you already married? My sister wants to marry you."

Neither Han nor Luke knew which of them the question was directed to.

"Han's married to Princess Leia," Ryoo said gently. "You remember," she reminded him.

"What's your name, kid?" Han asked, amused.

"Ooh, he called you kid," Luke encouraged solemnly. "That means you're his friend."

Ryoo's son lit up like a firecracker.

"I'm Indy!" he introduced, flattening his palm against his chest. He looked up at Han seriously. "Is your Wookiee here?" He pointed his hands at Han, mimicking holding a bowcaster. "I like his weapon. It's cool."

"Nah, Chewie's with his family. On his planet," Han answered easily.

"Oh. Okay," Indy said. He looked at them, and then he turned to Leia, and he stepped forward, sweeping his hand across his middle and bowing. "Your highness," he said solemnly.

Leia smiled. She leaned forward and touched his shoulder lightly.

"You don't have to do that," she said, hoping her voice sounded kind. She smiled at him encouragingly. "You can call me Leia."

"Ah –" Ryoo said, shaking her head. "No, Indy, how do we dress adults we've just met?"

Leia compressed her lips, suppressing a wince – she hadn't meant to step on Ryoo's toes. Ryoo gave her a look that implied she ought not to worry at all.

"She said call her Leia!" the boy protested.

"Indy."

He sighed, and turned to Leia seriously.

"Mrs.," he paused, furrowing his brow. He looked at her, and then looked at Han, and then decided: "Mrs. Solo," he said pleasantly. He held out his hand.

Leia took it, and the quiet, irritated noise she heard her father make under his breath made her burst into a smile as she bent a little to shake the young boy's hand.

"Is that right?" he asked. "Or did you not change? My grandmother didn't change. My mom did," he explained.

"Mrs. Solo is fine," Leia agreed politely. "It's very nice to meet you, Indy."

"Did I bow good?" he asked. "I practiced. I know a lot of customs. I like to know them," he said rapidly.

Leia nodded solemnly.

"It was a perfect bow," she said. "Very honorable."

Indy looked relieved, and then stepped back, and darted over to Luke.

"I want to hear all about the Jedi," he said, without taking a breath, "and your X-wing. Do you know Wedge Antilles? Do you know Shara Bey?" He glanced up at Han again. "Can I see your blaster?"

At that question, Bail made an alarmed noise.

"Han, are you armed?" he asked.

Indy pointed.

"Yes, I can see his blaster," he answered.

Han put his hand over the holster a little guiltily.

"I'm – well, I'm always armed," he retorted, exasperated. "Luke's armed!" He almost whined – Luke never got called out for his lightsaber; it was as if the whole damn galaxy considered a lightsaber a perfectly safe, harmless thing to have on you at the dinner table – !

"It's nothing to worry about, Bail, Han," Jobal said, speaking up calmly. "Han, I'm sure it would be impossible for a small child to get your blaster from you, yes?"

Han looked at her seriously, and then shot Bail an annoyed look.

"Yeah," he agreed. "The last person who disarmed me was – "

He stopped talking abruptly. Leia lifted her hand and ran it over her lips, automatically realizing he'd been about to say – Vader. She put her hand on his arm and squeezed, looking apologetically at Jobal.

"I apologize," she said diplomatically. "It escaped my mind – we don't always think about it, arming ourselves," she said. "I assure you, Han will keep the blaster secured," she looked at him quickly, "and unloaded."

He nodded to confirm, looking up to reiterate with another nod – easy enough; they were clearly in no danger here.

"It really doesn't matter," Sola said. "It's not a social faux pas," she looked at Leia frankly, one eyebrow raised. "Leia, everything here is going to be awkward and excessively polite and a handful of other synonyms for those things," she said, "wouldn't you agree?"

Leia smiled at her faintly, and lifted her shoulders.

"Yes," she said wryly. "I think I would."

"Then," Sola said, clasping her hands, "we ought to just accept that, and move on. Pooja, will you entertain the kids so Ryoo and Whyler can have a break?" she asked.

Pooja nodded, and Luke stood from his crouched position, looking at his cousin eagerly.

"I'll help," he offered, and both Indy and Iver sucked in their breath, eyes wide with delight.

"Mami and I will get Han and Leia settled," Sola said matter-of-factly. She looked down at her feet, where Maiah was sidling up. "Maiah, starlight, why don't you go with Darry," she said, gesturing to her husband, "and pick some flowers," she advised. "You can make a chain for Princess Leia."

Leia started to correct her, but Sola winked at her.

"She likes that there's a Princess here," she whispered, while Maiah looked hopefully at Darred. He picked her up, and Ryoo folded her arms, shaking her head.

"I do hope the kids haven't already made you regret this," she said dryly. "That's actually calm, for the twins – and be careful," she said, arching a brow pointedly as she looked between Han and Leia – "that's likely what you're in for," she joked, "twins run in the family, both sides."

Leia folded her arms, running her hand over her neck. She smiled tensely, though Ryoo didn't notice.

"You hear how they skip a generation – well, not if you're a Naberrie," she warned.

It was Ruwee who suddenly spoke.

"Ryoo," he said, a little sharply. "You're ambushing them."

Ryoo flushed, taken aback, and then shook her head, blanching.

"Oh, I'm – Gran-Papa is right; Han, Leia, I didn't mean," she waved her hand. "Ignore me," she said hastily.

Han shrugged good-naturedly, and Leia gave Ryoo a tight smile – a smile that these people who barely knew her on a personal level couldn't identify as a strained one, though Han – and even Bail – noticed the discomfort immediately. To Han it wasn't altogether unfamiliar – but Bail frowned slightly, his brow furrowing.

Ryoo cleared her throat, her cheeks still warm.

"I'm going to have a day servant begin the process of dinner, and ready some tea and – kaffe?" she guessed, pointing to Whyler, Han, and Ruwee.

The three men nodded, and Ryoo gave Leia another apologetic look, a small wince. Leia waved her hand, wanting to remain affable and unreadable – she felt a little dizzy; it was so many people to take in at once, and all of them – family, family, family - !

Han put a hand on her shoulder, stepping closer. Bail cleared his throat, and Leia heard him say something about doing what he could to help Ryoo. Han bent to press a light, chaste kiss to the side of Leia's head, and he slid one hand into his pocket, nodding at Sola and Jobal gruffly – waiting to be shown where they'd be staying for the duration of the trip.

---

Leia wasn't sure how to define her feelings, as she stood in the room they'd been given later that evening.

It was her father who had given her an out – they've been traveling, it's been a long day; Leia do you want to go to bed?

She accepted the excuse gratefully, but the thing was – she hadn't been uncomfortable, and she hadn't been eager to escape. The afternoon had been pleasant – low stress. Leia knew everyone had been holding back, easing into each other – just barely getting a feel for what this would be like. She was glad that they seemed to be so receptive, though part of her felt constantly on edge – they were going to start talking about Vader, and Padmé, all of their history, and Leia was sure there would be fights –

But today had been nice; this welcome had been nice, and she could breathe a little, she could feel a little optimistic.

She had no idea how she was going to approach them about her desire to be transparent about her heritage, because at this moment, she had no true grasp on how they felt about their daughter's romantic choices, her death - the Empire, Vader, and everything that had happened since then.

She only knew that they were kind, a close family; they made excellent tea, and little Maiah, all of five years old and very affectionate, could link together a particularly lovely flower chain, which she had done, in the form of two bracelets that she had given to Leia.

Leia ran her fingertips over them now, brushing the tiny red flowers and the thin stalks they were attached to. She shifted her weight; reaching up to take the last pins out of her hair and lay them down on the vanity that was up against the wall of their guest room.

Anxiety twisted in her stomach – it was discomfiting that she'd known there would be children here, and yet they still made her a little wary. She had never had a problem with children, but she hadn't been around them much, either; she was the youngest child in the nursery on Alderaan, and she ran in adult circles from a young age.

It wasn't that, though; she knew how to interact with children. It was Han, picking up that little girl as if he was trying to make a statement – he couldn't just let it go for a while –

"Hey, Sweetheart, you done in the 'fresher?" he asked gruffly from behind her.

"Hmm? Yeah," Leia murmured, taking her last hairpin out.

She shook her hair loosely and turned, sitting against the vanity for a moment. Han waved off the 'fresher light, running his hand over the back of his head. He yawned, and then trudged over to the bed, looking over it. He glanced over at her and lifted his eyebrows suggestively.

She smiled, and then went to pull the curtains to the window, leaving the balcony door cracked open a little – it was so balmy and warm outside, she'd rather the fresh air drift in during the night. She went to join Han in bed, pushing her pillows towards the middle – it really was a very spacious bed.

She burrowed under the sheets and turned onto her side, facing Han – and sighed heavily, dramatically closing her eyes.

"You survived," Han said.

Leia nodded, and he moved closer, pressing kisses to her forehead. He combed his fingers through her hair, and ran his hands over her for a moment, and then he let her go, shifting back to give her some space. Leia opened her eyes and gazed at him, silent, and thoughtful.

"It could have been worse," she murmured.

Han nodded.

"On the other hand, it can go downhill from here," Leia said logically.

"Don't think like that," Han retorted.

Leia smiled a little.

"I can't help it," she admitted.

Han gave her a look – he knew that about her. He couldn't change it, and he'd already made himself available to her in all the ways he could for the duration of this struggle, so he lay there next to her, not finding it pertinent to say anything.

Leia yawned, and reached up to cover her mouth, and Han reached out to take her wrist, running his thumb over her pulse point, catching his fingers in the flower chain bracelet she hadn't yet taken off. Leia held her hand between them, looking at it.

"Hey," Han said, eyes on the flowers. "You notice that Indy's about nine?" he asked.

Leia nodded.

"Ryoo and Whyler, they been married – six years?" Han went on.

"Mmhmm," Leia murmured. She lowered her wrist. "Indy isn't Whyler's," she whispered, "not biologically. "Luke mentioned it. Seems Ryoo was pretty wild. Whyler adopted him."

"Kid's dad's a deadbeat?"

Leia compressed her lips and arched her brows.

"I think there's, ah, some question about – paternity," she said delicately.

"Oh," Han said, amused.

He looped his fingers under the flower bracelet.

"Kinda weird," he muttered. "The way those kids act about us."

Leia nodded. She hesitated, and then she said –

"It's eerie. It's almost as if it's this – generational detachment," she said quietly. "There's Jobal and Ruwee, Sola and Darred, who were all there, and very aware, of what was happening when the Republic fell – and then Ryoo and Pooja, who have sort of, childlike memories," she paused, and lifted her shoulders, pulling the covers around her, "and the little ones. They don't know anything. They wouldn't have even understood the Empire."

In essence, it was likely that none of this drama would ever be anything to Ryoo's kids other than stories they were told; the Rebellion was just a holo film, the Empire was a scary bedtime story – hopefully, Leia thought; hopefully we can make the world fine for them.

Leia slipped the flower bracelet off and tucked it up on the shelf in the headboard of the bed, settling down on her side. She felt tired, but she felt like she wanted some silence, to think, as well – and suddenly, talking even vaguely about Ryoo's children, she felt like Han was on edge, and that put her on edge.

She turned her head a little to look at him, and he seemed fine, so she tried to relax a little – there are three little kids here; I have to get used to it – the word is going to come up -

Han lay on his back staring up at the vaulted ceiling, his eyes alert. He heard her moving around, and he wondered what she was thinking. He didn't want to say anything, because he was wary Leia might take it the wrong way, and think he wanted to talk about – instead he focused on the luxury of the room they were in, and after staring in disbelief at the intricately carved ceiling, he put his hands behind his head and looked at Leia, twisting his head pointedly.

"This bed is nice," he drawled. "Why isn't our bed this nice?"

Leia turned onto her side, facing him, eyes closed lightly.

"Our bed is nice," she murmured.

Han shifted closer – this one was so spacious there was an almost annoying gap between them when he took his usual place on the left.

"Not this nice," he retorted.

"I beg to differ."

"How's our bed nicer than this?" Han asked.

"This bed is equally as nice as ours as far as you're concerned."

"Yeah? How so?"

"I'm in it with you," Leia murmured primly, peeking out one eye for a moment.

Han blinked at her for a moment, and then grinned, rolling over closer. He put his mouth close to her ear.

"You're making sleepy jokes, Princess, that's cute," he teased.

She yawned, and purposely closed her mouth on his nose and mouth playfully for a moment before snuggling closer, relieved that the tension seemed to have eased for a moment – wondering if it was tension she was imagining, or even creating herself – she swallowed hard, and tucked her head against his neck, right where she felt safe, and comfortable. He slipped his arms around her and settled down to go to sleep, pressing a smile against her shoulder warmly, and breathing her in – he wanted this trip to be harmless, but something pricked at the back of his mind – how long are we going to ignore the issue, Leia?

When she deflected, she used this as an excuse; Han, I just need to get through this thing with the Naberries – but something told him being here was going to be a catalyst more than anything else.

---

laying some groundwork, laying some groundwork.
feedback appreciated!

-alexandra