Once again, this is not everything that I intended to include in this chapter; originally it was going to be two parts but it's been so difficult to write (this is the fifth complete rewrite that I've done) that I just want to get something published and so have decided that the second part will instead be a chapter in itself.

I am not going to set an ETA for the next chapter because I clearly am not very good at keeping to the schedules that I set for myself. I think it's been a couple of months since the last update to this story so all I can do is promise that it won't take that long for Chapter 12 to be finished and posted. I am planning another story at the moment so I'm having to divide my time between that project and this one but I am working on the next update.

I hope this chapter will prove to have been worth the wait for anyone who is following the story. And thank you to everyone that has taken the time to leave a review so far, please keep doing so.


11

Over the course of nineteen years that had been spent harbouring secrets that would tear the galaxy apart at its seams if they were ever exposed, Breha Organa had become accustomed to disquietude.

She had spent so much of that time feeling as though she was being swept along on a tide of fear and revolution, cut adrift on Alderaan while those she loved most were placing their lives in jeopardy in the pursuit of a brighter future and the fall of a dictatorship. And though she tried to bury all of her anxieties and concerns internally, kept them concealed so that her husband and daughter would see and feel only her unwavering support for them and their cause, Breha could not escape the foreboding sense that all of her and Bail's carefully cultivated plans and cherished secrets would soon unravel.

In truth, she had always known that such a time would come. When Bail had placed Leia in her arms for the very first time, he had calmly explained to her all of the circumstances that had led to that moment: the truth of Leia's parentage, the danger she would face if her biological father and the newly-anointed Emperor ever discovered her existence, the hope that had been invested in her by what remained of the Jedi Council to someday set right everything that had gone so horribly wrong. Leia, Bail had said, was special and so adopting and raising her as their own would carry both great risk and great responsibility.

They had both longed so desperately for a child for so long that Breha had not given any real consideration to those risks. Although she had been heartbroken that the child had had to unknowingly suffer such tragedy and loss, Breha had been convinced that all of her prayers to the Gods for such a blessing had been answered, that Leia coming into their lives had been the design of a divine power.

She now sat on the same balcony of the palace on which she'd held Leia for the first time, once again contemplating the cruel irony that amidst the fall of democracy, the purge of the Jedi Order and the rise of a tyranny, such a miracle had befallen her family.

It was late now, long past midnight, but Breha had found it impossible to stop turning the events of the last few hours over in her mind for long enough to fall asleep.

She had been so looking forward to Bail's return for Ranolta the previous day, enthused to have good news to share with him.

In her efforts to find someone who could diagnose and prescribe a treatment for Breha's illness, Niram had found and made contact with an expert in haematology on Commenor who she believed might finally be able to offer them some real hope for a long-awaited resolution to the situation. And despite all of the disappointments she'd suffered so far, the false dawns of so many specialists trying but ultimately failing to help her, Breha had allowed herself to believe that an end to the pain and uncertainty she'd had to live with for months was now blessedly in sight.

The burden of keeping the illness a secret from Leia and Winter had been a heavy one to bear. But both of them were so invested in their work that Breha had argued that it would have been unfair of her to give them one more thing to worry about, that it made sense to wait just a little while longer to tell them about her ill health so that tangible hope for her recovery might be offered alongside the truth. Bail and Niram had respected her wishes, although both had expressed their belief that neither Leia nor Winter would want to have such a secret kept from them. But Breha had been determined to retain some sense of control over the matter; at a time when so much seemed to be changing around her, she simply wanted to be able confront her illness in whatever way she deemed was necessary.

Upon Bail's arrival back on Alderaan, she had immediately taken him aside to share with him Niram's most recent breakthrough in her search to find someone who might finally be able to help Breha. And as he had done whenever they'd found a new lead to follow in recent months, Bail had reacted ecstatically, proclaiming again his certainty that this lead would be the one that would finally give them the answers that had so proved so elusive, that Breha would soon be on her way back to full health and they could then put this most trying of times in their life behind them.

But Breha had sensed very quickly that something was troubling her husband. During dinner he had told about his frustrations with the command staff on Alliance and shared his concerns about an Alliance intelligence operation that he and Mon Mothma had recently agreed to approve. But Breha knew him well enough to recognise that he was withholding something and she intuited that it had nothing to do with the Rebellion.

She had retired to bed alone, Bail having mentioned that there was something he needed to attend to before he could join her, and in spite of the constant tiredness and lethargy that now plagued her, Breha had been unable to relax her mind enough to sleep. Her husband's earlier reticence had been so uncharacteristic that she'd lain awake, imagining all manner of awful scenarios that might be so distressing that Bail had taken it upon himself to keep a secret from her, something he had vowed to never do.

Every one of those scenarios centred around their daughter.

The ordeal that Leia had been put through on Coruscant had shaken them both. Neither were naive enough to believe that the nature of Leia's work in the Senate did not carry the threat of consequences; she was doing her utmost to unsettle the political establishment, to draw attention to the Imperial Navy's sinister activities in the Outer Rim, to expose the corruption that had blighted galactic politics since before the rise of the Empire. Breha had long ago stopped watching or reading any reports on the HoloNet so that she could avoid the Empire's persistent attempts to smear Leia's name and reputation with their vicious propaganda. But to hear that Leia had been assaulted, to contemplate what might have happened had someone not intervened in the incident on her behalf, had been unbearable.

The incident had been the realisation of Breha's long-held fear of the danger that Leia would face if she ever entered into politics. Neither she nor Breha had ever sought to stifle Leia's ambitions or withhold her from achieving everything that they knew she was capable of, but both of them were mindful of their daughter's impulsive nature, the readiness with which she was prepared to put herself at risk for the benefit of others.

Breha would never forget the sleepless nights that she and her husband had endured when it had become apparent that Leia had indeed set her heart on a career in the Senate. She'd been fourteen then, angry at the state of the galaxy she'd been born into and driven by an idealistic determination to make a difference. But the thought of her spending prolonged time on Coruscant, in such close proximity to the demons that Bail and Breha were so desperate to protect her from, had been a terrifying one.

The six months that had passed since Leia's election to serve as Alderaan's representative in the Senate had been tense ones but Bail was certain that he'd taken every precaution to ensure that she would be safe whenever she travelled to the capital; he had procured an apartment in the heart of the bustling political district, hired the best security detail he could find to watch over her and Winter, had permitted both of them to be trained in a variety of self-defence techniques. Leia, he'd insisted, was responsible enough to avoid any situation where she might be put at needless risk and he'd implored Breha to trust that their daughter would not come to any harm.

And despite her apprehension, Breha had trusted in his surety.

In truth, she'd spent the past nineteen years beholden to and trusting in Bail's judgement. When he'd first brought Leia to Alderaan, he had already devised the plan that he was convinced would safeguard the truth of Leia's lineage and allow her to prosper into the remarkable young woman that she had become.

That Leia was adopted, he'd decided, would not be kept a secret; pretending otherwise would have only engendered dangerous rumour and speculation. Instead, they would explain that Leia was an orphan of the Clone Wars that had been placed in their care by an Alderaanian missionary who'd found her somewhere in the Mid Rim. While certain truths had had to remain a secret for Leia's sake, Bail had resolved that they would not shield her from what had then been a new reality for the galaxy; if she were to fulfil the latent potential that two exiled Jedi Masters had sensed she possessed, he'd insisted that Leia would have to be cognisant of everything she would one day need to overcome. And should her life's path lead her to follow in the footsteps of her birth mother and into politics, Bail had been adamant that neither he nor Breha should stand in her way out of fear that she may meet the same fate that Padme Amidala had.

That was what Bail did, what he excelled at; he made plans, prepared contingencies, strategized meticulously.

For nearly two decades now, he'd had to contend with so much: matters of state on Alderaan, his duties in the Senate, protecting his family and leading the Rebellion. Yet Bail had never once complained in all of that time about the pressures of any of those responsibilities; on the contrary, Breha thought that her husband was truly in his element when he was faced with a problem that needed to be solved. He was a remarkable man in every respect, a principled politician and stoic leader, a wonderful husband and devoted father.

But, for the very first time, Breha now questioned whether his judgement could be flawed.

She hated herself for it, hated that she'd allowed any such doubts to take hold in her mind. But his most recent plan, one that he had set in motion on Ranolta, was perhaps the most precarious that he'd ever conceived of and Breha had found herself pondering whether it was one he'd arrived at through logical reasoning or out of sheer desperation.

When Bail had finally joined her in their quarters, she had vainly hoped that he would put her mind at ease, tell her that whatever was troubling him was some inconsequential matter that she needn't concern herself about.

Instead, he'd told her of the desperate feeling of guilt that he had been carrying for what he had deemed his own failure to better protect Leia, how he had been desperate to find some way to atone for her having to endure all of the pain and fear that she had suffered on Coruscant. He hadn't wanted to share any of this with his wife and worry her further, nor give her any reason to doubt that he could continue to keep their family safe, not until he had thought of a way to assuage his own self-doubts. And then, on Ranolta, he had met Captain Han Solo, the Corellian that had gone to Leia's aid on the capital, and was unable to believe that they'd crossed paths through mere happenstance; although he was not as spiritual a being as his wife, Bail said that it was almost as though the Gods had conspired to orchestrate the encounter, to lead him to the solution to his quandary that he might otherwise have never thought to seek.

Captain Solo and his accomplice, a Wookie named Chewbacca, were now on Alderaan, spending the night aboard their ship in one of the palace hangars, at Bail's invitation. It transpired that he had seen fit to entrust their daughter's safety to the two smugglers and had offered them employment as Leia's personal bodyguards. And though Leia had already expressed her own reservations, her reunion with Captain Solo the previous night having been a contentious one according to Bail, she was apparently prepared to at least give the proposed arrangement, and the belligerent-sounding Corellian, a chance to succeed.

Though Bail had acknowledged that his plan was an unconventional one, he had nevertheless been adamant that it would allay all of the fears and concerns that he and Breha both harboured for Leia. Han Solo, he'd insisted, was a good and principled man, one who should not be judged by his profession and could be trusted to keep Leia safe from harm.

He had been so earnest in his conviction that this course of action was the right one to take and Breha had wanted desperately to feel able to trust in it herself. But given that her husband had always been such a practical man, who believed so ardently in thorough planning and in weighing every possible risk so carefully against every potential reward, she could not help but fear that this particular plan seemed very much to be an uncharacteristic leap of faith on Bail's part; he was asking her to entrust their daughter's wellbeing, Leia's life, to a Corellian smuggler and his Wookie cohort, two complete strangers. And given the tumultuous nature of the galaxy, the jeopardy the Leia might be placing herself in through her attempts to covertly advance the Rebel Alliance's cause in the Senate, Breha was uncertain of whether she too could place so much of her own faith in the unknown.

Although she did harbour some concerns about Captain Solo, it was not his background or his profession that troubled her. In spite of her privileged upbringing, Breha had never been a judgemental person; while others might have been quick to dismiss the Corellian as little more than a common criminal, she knew that there may have been circumstances beyond Captain Solo's control that had compelled him to pursue a career in smuggling. And Breha did believe that his actions on Coruscant, what he had done for Leia, spoke highly of his calibre as a man.

But she did not understand how two smugglers could be expected to protect Leia against all of the threats that were seemingly now assailing her.

Hearing the Leia had been attacked by an Imperial officer had stirred a myriad of emotions that Breha had spent nineteen years battling to keep at bay. Irrespective of whether it had been a deliberate attempt to silence a political dissident or a random act of opportunistic evil, she felt that her family had arrived at a critical juncture, one they could not retreat away from and that would inevitably lead to her and Bail losing their daughter.

Knowing that such a moment had always been unavoidable did not make it any easier to bear now that it appeared so close at hand. Breha thought back to all of the discussions that she and Bail had had about when the time would be right to tell Leia the truth of her parentage, to let her go so that she could fulfil whatever destiny lay ahead of her. Though Bail had always been typically circumspect on the matter, choosing to remind Breha that they had both pledged upon adopting Leia that they would not seek to constrain her, Breha had always thought that they would have more time before they reached the point at which they had now arrived. It felt as though nineteen years had passed in the blink of an eye, that only yesterday Leia had still been a child; carefree, relentlessly inquisitive and mischievous.

Now she was a young woman, embroiled in politics and rebellious subterfuge, prepared to place her own life in jeopardy for the greater good of the galaxy, willingly shouldering responsibility for so much and for so many and yet still so desperate to do more.

Breha wanted to just slow time down, impossible though that was, and enjoy the privilege of being Leia's mother for just a little while longer. She felt helpless, a prisoner of the disquietude that she could no longer keep banished to the farthest recesses of her subconscious. Her life was irrevocably changing, its foundations eroding beneath her feet, and there was nothing she could do to affect it, to prevent her family from being torn apart by the cruel machinations of fate.

Hearing quiet footsteps behind her, Breha swiped at the tears that she had been unable to prevent falling and took in a deep breath of the crisp night air to ease the tightness in her throat.

"Breha?" Bail sat beside her, his warm eyes full of concern. He reached to cup her jaw, gently stroking her cheek with his thumb. "You look pale," he murmured. "Are you alright? Should I call for Niram?"

Breha shook her head in answer and Bail moved to take one of her hands in both of his, tracing invisible patterns upon her chilled skin.

"But something is wrong," Bail deduced, trying to catch her eye even as his wife sought to avoid his gaze. "What is it, Love? Tell me."

Although she was not minded to hide anything from him, Breha was unsure of how she could articulate her present tumult of emotions. Bail was always so calm and composed in the face of any crisis and Breha had always felt that she owed it to him to be similarly resolute, to be his one constant source of unwavering support. To tell him everything that she was feeling now would entail admitting that she harboured doubts about his plan to protect Leia and that was something that she did not want to do.

"I was just thinking about the diplomatic incident that Leia nearly caused when she stole the Seswennan governor's tobacco," she said. "I can't believe that it was so long ago now...do you remember?"

It was clear that her response had not been the one that Bail had anticipated but he seemed content to follow her on this tangent for the moment and nodded in answer.

"I'll never forget it," he replied. "For a moment I really did believe that Seswenna might declare war on Alderaan over it."

"He really was a vile human being," Breha continued. "We'd expected him to be, given that he came here to convince you to end your opposition to a pro-slavery bill. And that foul-smelling tobacco..."

She wrinkled her nose in disgust at the memory, doubting that she would ever be able to forget the stench of the smoke that had wafted from the governor's pipe, how it had seemed to permeate and linger in every room of the palace for days after his departure from their home.

"I will admit that that was one of the more testing experiences of my political career," said Bail. "He was one of the most unpleasantly obstinate individuals that I've encountered. But, thankfully, he truly met his match in Leia that day."

Breha remembered the terse exchange that had taken place between her husband and the governor well, the stark contrast between their conflicting outlooks on the matter that had been at hand; Bail's impassioned opposition to the practice of slavery had been a cornerstone of his political career and he was the loudest voice amongst those in the Senate who had led calls for the institution to be abolished in the waning years of the Republic. The governor, however, had been immovably firm in his opinion that slavery was a necessary and entirely excusable facet of galactic expansion and was leading Seswenna's proposal that the archaic laws which had existed at the time to regulate the use of slaves be relaxed. Unable to move past their impasse they'd arrived at, it had seemed as though the governor might be able to return to Seswenna having routed the leader of the opposition to the planet's pro-slavery agenda before Leia had made her unexpected but vital contribution to the debate.

She had interrupted the meeting, aware of the reason why it was being held and, having engrossed herself in the history of slavery in preparation for the occasion, was desperate to have her say. Despite only being nine-years-old at the time, she had somehow expressed her own stance on the matter in such a simple yet irrefutably accomplished way that the governor had been too taken aback to present a counter-argument. So he had dismissed Leia as little more than a naive and insolent child and had accused Bail and Breha of not teaching their daughter to hold her tongue in the presence of an elder and intellectual superior.

Whereas Bail and Breha had both been ready to respond to the governor's insults in a very undiplomatic manner, Leia, to her parents' great surprise, had simply offered a polite apology for any offense that her interjection in the meeting had caused and taken her leave.

But when the governor had later discovered that his pipe and tobacco had gone missing, Breha had known immediately that Leia was responsible.

The governor had been apoplectic with rage, ranting that the tobacco was an expensive brand that could only be sourced from a rare weed that grew on Felucia and accusing the Royal House of Alderaan of harbouring immoral thieves amongst its staff. The meeting had swiftly denigrated into a sustained diatribe not simply against the Organa family and Alderaan, but eventually also their allies in the Senate and their long suspected ties to the Rebel Alliance.

Having failed to overcome Bail's resistance to his planet's slavery bill, the governor had sworn vengeance for the humiliation and indignity that he had been subjected to. But just as he had been about to depart the palace to return to Seswenna, his pipe and tobacco had suddenly reappeared and he had eventually concluded that they had to have been unknowingly misplaced by himself at an earlier point.

Leia had justified her actions by arguing that sometimes calm heads and rational debate were not always sufficient tools of diplomacy if one hoped to impart some measure of humility on bigots like the governor and when Seswenna's slavery bill later failed to gain enough support to be passed in the Senate, Bail had proudly declared that the victory belonged solely to his daughter.

"How do you think the governor reacted when he discovered that Leia had mixed Corellian fire-spice into his tobacco?" asked Breha wistfully.

"I can only imagine," Bail replied wistfully; even years later, Breha knew her husband still regretted that he had been unable to witness the governor's outburst upon realising that his precious, noxious tobacco had been sabotaged. "You know, I always thought that Leia might go into politics...she's always had that spark, that drive to make a difference for as long as I can remember. But that was the day I realised for certain that her future lay in the Senate."

On reflection, Breha realised that that day had offered a glimpse into a future that was now their present; Leia, unbowed in the face of her adversary, speaking up for what was right with a maturity and wisdom that was beyond her years while her parents watched on with immense pride.

"It's strange," she said, emerging from her reverie, "that memories like that come back to me in moments like this, when I realise how powerless I am to prevent things from changing in ways that I don't want them to...does that ever happen to you?"

Bail seemed pensive as he caressed the palm of her hand.

"Sometimes," he answered, his brow furrowing. "But I am not in a position where I can ever afford to allow myself to feel powerless so I find it is best to look forward rather than dwell too much on the past."

He leant in closer to her, his concern now palpable.

"Breha, please talk to me," he implored his wife. "Tell me what's wrong."

"Everything is going to change, Bail," Breha answered tremulously. "All that we've dreaded for the past nineteen years, everything we've feared...we're going to lose her."

Strangely, it appeared that Bail seemed more resigned than surprised or saddened by her response, as though he had somehow expected it. Breha wondered how transparent she might have unknowingly been when he'd talked her through his plan earlier that night; she'd thought that she had masked her trepidation, fulfilled her duties as his steadfastly supportive wife. But Bail had seemingly seen through her facade and elected not to acknowledge it.

Breha was struck suddenly by the lines that now creased her husband's face, the grey that now tinged his hair, and pondered whether it owed simply to the natural passing of time or if she had just not looked closely enough until that moment to recognise that everything they'd all had to go through and endure had taken far more of a toll on Bail that he had allowed her or anyone else to see.

"I suspected you felt like this," he admitted in a sombre tone, grasping her hand a little more tightly. "I know that everything that has happened over the past few days has to have shaken you, Breha, it has all shaken me far more than I would like to admit. But I promise you, we are not going to lose Leia."

"I was always afraid of what might happen if Leia ever took up politics...I can't stop thinking about Padme, about everything she went through and I'm terrified that Leia will suffer like she did."

"We will not allow that to happen." Bail drew closer, placing his arm around her shoulder and Breha let her head fall to rest upon his chest. "But we also cannot hold her back, Love. We both swore that we wouldn't let what happened to Padme dictate how we raised Leia, that we would let her follow her own path."

"But that was nineteen years ago." Breha fought to maintain her composure, to let Bail's closeness soothe and console her frayed emotions as she continued to speak. "It's ridiculous to say this given the awful things that were happening at the time but it all seemed so simple when she came to us…she was everything we both wanted, everything we thought we'd never have, we would have done and promised anything to keep her, and raise her, and love her…but it's far harder to keep those promises that we made when all of the fears that we had for Leia then are becoming our reality now."

"I know, but we both understood all of the risks that we were taking, the things we might have to do so that we could keep Leia safe...this is just something that we have to overcome, Breha, something that we just have to see through."

He somehow managed to make everything sound so straightforward, like the situation they now found themselves in was merely some minor complication that could be easily navigated and resolved. In Breha's mind, it felt more akin to the long-dreaded but ultimately inevitable beginning of the end of everything that had been initiated nearly two decades earlier, in the very place they now sat together .

"I'm just as scared as you are," Bail continued, tenderly kneading her shoulder. "I'm terrified by all of this, by what happened on Coruscant, and I have to live with the knowledge that there is nothing that any of my plotting or scheming could have done to prevent it." He paused but Breha had not missed the slight hitch in his voice. "I can't begin to tell you how that feels," he went on, "knowing that I failed, knowing what could have happened had someone not had the decency to intervene...but I will not allow Leia to ever suffer like that again."

Though she would never voice such a thought, Breha had begun to contemplate whether she and Bail would be able protect Leia for much longer, whether the incident on Coruscant was a harbinger of what lay ahead at the hands of the dark forces that had always lingered on the horizon of their family's future. Like Bail, she was not minded to jump to conclusions or immediately assume the very worst, even in the midst of a crisis. But, given everything that Leia was trying to accomplish in the Senate, Breha could not help but fear that further attempts on their daughter's life were unavoidable; the Empire would not tolerate her overt dissidence indefinitely, particularly if Leia was successful in persuading neutral systems to align with her cause. And given that Leia was surely suspected of being involved in some way with the Alliance, as Bail had been throughout his own political career, Breha was sure that she would not have gone unnoticed by the Emperor and his acolytes.

"I'm scared Bail," she admitted quietly. "I don't know what we should do."

"We will take each day as it comes," Bail replied simply, in as steady and assured a voice as he could muster. "We will be strong for Leia and continue to support her as we always have, and we'll trust that, by the grace of the Gods and with the will of the Force, Han and Chewbacca will keep her safe whenever she is away from us."

Again, he sounded so confident and Breha knew that would she have to press him further on this plan of his, not because she wanted to express any doubts over its practicality or give Bail any reason to believe that she was losing faith in him; she simply wanted to understand why he was so sure that it was the correct course of action to take, to be able to believe in it as Bail did.

"You really think they can do that, don't you?" she asked cautiously. "You really trust that these two smugglers you've found on Ranolta will be able to protect Leia?

She lifted her head so that she could look at her husband, to gauge whether his eyes held the same conviction with which he would surely attempt to answer her.

"I do," he affirmed.

"Why?"

It took a moment for him to respond. Breha watched as one corner of his mouth involuntarily quirked upward, a trait that she had learned long ago indicated that Bail was giving very careful thought to his response.

"Intuition," he eventually settled on.

At the quizzical expression on his wife's face that his answer had prompted, Bail chuckled. He patted her hand and placed it in her lap before rising to his feet so that he could look out over the twilight skyline of Aldera, his gaze following the passage of the sparse traffic that was landing at and departing from the city's spaceport.

"If there is one thing that the past nineteen years have taught me," he said, "it is that there are occasions when I simply have to follow my instincts and accept that not every aspect of our lives can be planned and plotted...to borrow a phrase that I hear is something of a motto amongst the Alliance's fighter squadrons, you simply have to go with your gut."

"And you believe that this is one of those occasions?"

Bail nodded.

"When Winter told me what had happened on Coruscant," he began to explain, "I realised immediately the mistake I'd made in arranging Leia's security: I'd thought too logically. I took every conventional measure I could think of and hoped that it would all be enough. But that is where I went wrong, Breha...I took a conventional approach to a situation that has never been conventional."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I underestimated the extent of the dangers that Leia might face," Bail answered. "I realise now that all of those measures I took to protect her were never going to be adequate, not for Leia - given everything she is trying to accomplish in the Senate, everything that she represents in this galaxy, it was always inevitable that the Empire would target her. And in order to get the better of such an enemy, one that is capable of depravities that we are not, we have to think in ways that they will not expect...that is where Han figures into this, as an unconventional solution to an unconventional problem."

He sat beside her again on the balcony's parapet, replacing his arm around her shoulders.

"You know I've never set much store in fate or the idea of divine intervention," he went on quietly. "That is the one thing that you and I tend to disagree on. But when I first met Han on Ranolta, I just couldn't believe that the circumstances were merely coincidental...I knew that there was a purpose to it. And when I spoke with him, I realised very quickly that he was someone I could trust."

"Enough to protect our daughter?"

"Yes," Bail answered without hesitation.

"And why are you so convinced that we can trust Captain Solo?"

It was uncharacteristic of Bail to be so trusting of anyone that he barely knew. Breha understood that that owed to his years spent in the duplicitous political arena of the Senate and the secretive nature of his role within the Rebellion; Bail was duly wary upon meeting anyone, a perceptive and very shrewd judge of character. And yet, he had seemingly seen fit to invite Captain Solo into his inner circle within hours of their first encounter and had subsequently divulged secrets that could have conceivably endangered thousands of lives had he misjudged the Corellian's integrity.

"Well, his actions on Coruscant obviously spoke very highly of his qualities as a human being," Bail responded. "In truth, he's something of a paradox...an honourable man in a dishonourable profession. I sense that there is far more to him than first meets the eye, that he perhaps has not had the easiest of lives, which would explain why he isn't particularly forthcoming about himself. But the choice that Han made on Coruscant told me everything that I need to know about him – he is a good man, Breha, I am certain of that."

Breha had no intention of disputing that assertion. Besides his selflessness in going to Leia's aid, Captain Solo had done something exceedingly brave during his lifetime to earn the Corellian Bloodstripe, an increasingly uncommon but galaxy-renowned military honour of the utmost prestige. But it was his association with a Wookie that had most intrigued Breha when Bail had first told her of everything that had recently happened on Coruscant.

Years earlier, before she had ascended to the throne and was serving as an aide to Alderaan's Minister of Education, Breha had herself encountered a Wookie during an ambassadorial assignment to Hosnian Prime; Dewlanna had escaped from a band of vicious Trandoshan slavers and Breha had granted her shelter aboard the Minister's consular ship and offered safe passage to an outpost in the Corellian system where the Wookie had hoped to find her exiled life-mate. Though the time she'd spent in Dewlanna's company had been brief, the experience had nonetheless left an indelible impression on Breha and had imbued in her a far greater understanding of not only the suffering that Wookies were so cruelly and unjustly subjected to throughout the galaxy, but also an appreciation of their wisdom and nobility, their steadfast strength of will and their unwavering loyalty.

In the time that had passed since they'd parted ways, Breha had often wondered what might have become of Dewlanna. And when she had first heard of Chewbacca, she knew intuitively that Captain Solo had to have done something extraordinary to attain the companionship of a Wookie, that the loyalty of a Wookie was earned and not granted freely.

"And as far as Han's credentials as a bodyguard are concerned," Bail went on, "there were four members of an Alliance patrol still being treated in our medical centre on Ranolta when I left there, all of whom could vouch for his ingenuity and resourcefulness when he is threatened."

"I imagine that such qualities are essential for anyone in his line of work."

"As do I," said Bail. "That did play a part in my thinking...I can't claim to have had dealings with many smugglers but I expect that merely surviving in such a profession is dependent on one's ability to identify danger quickly so that it can be avoided, to always stay a step ahead of their adversaries."

"Which, of course, is precisely what we would require of anyone that we trust to protect Leia."

Breha was now beginning to understand her husband's logic, why the idea of employing such an unorthodox individual as Captain Solo as a bodyguard for their daughter had appealed to Bail.

"So you see, there is rationale to this plan," said Bail. "I spent enough years in the Senate to know that we have more to fear than the Empire, Breha. The likes of Orn Free Taa will target Leia in their pathetic attempts to ingratiate themselves to Palpatine and there are no depths to which they won't sink to try and gain the Emperor's favour...I know how their minds work, that they would think nothing of resorting to violence and intimidation to get what they want."

Breha could appreciate that particular line of thinking. She was not naive enough to believe that all who intended to do Leia harm would be dressed in an Imperial uniform; with every impassioned speech that Leia made in the Senate, the more entrenched that her public stand against all of the evils that plagued the galaxy had become, it only stood to reason that her list of adversaries would lengthen and extend beyond politics.

"When you explain it in that way, this plan does begin to make sense."

"I know that I should have about this with you before I made any decisions," Bail conceded. "But I hope you trust that I really have thought this through very carefully and am not relying simply on blind faith to keep Leia safe."

"I do." Breha reached out a hand to gently stroke her husband's cheek. "I'm sorry if it has seemed as though I've doubted you...this has just all been a lot to take in and make sense of."

"Breha, I give you my word that I know what I am doing...and that I will not allow anyone to ever hurt Leia again."

They sat together in silence for several minutes thereafter, the crown of Breha's head tucked comfortably beneath her husband's chin, while she contemplated everything that Bail had told her. It hadn't eased all of the fear that had prompted her earlier restlessness but she was content for the moment to simply feel somewhat reassured.

In spite of her own lingering trepidation, Breha resolved to find solace in Bail's certainty that his plan would succeed. She knew beyond doubt that life as she had known it for nineteen years would soon change irrevocably; while she and Bail would continue to do anything they deemed necessary to protect Leia, they were both powerless to alter the course of their daughter's destiny. For the moment, Breha determined to savour every remaining moment that her family had left together before fate made its inevitable and unwelcome intervention to wreak its havoc on everyone and everything she loved most in the galaxy. And when that happened, she was prepared to face whatever lay ahead with all of the strength and resilience that she could muster, to fight for a better future that would be free from suffering and oppression.

A sudden thought struck her.

"You said earlier that Leia wasn't happy about this arrangement with Captain Solo and Chewbacca when you first told her about it," she said, not moving her head from where it rested against her husband. "Do you foresee that causing any problems in your plan?"

"I don't," answered Bail. "Leia understands that I have acted in her best interests. In time, I am sure that she and Han will find some common ground but I think seeing each other again so unexpectedly caught them both off guard, particularly given the circumstances in which they first met – I actually believe that they're quite similar in some aspects." He chuckled quietly. "You know how Leia can be, she's...spirited."

"Others would say stubborn."

"As a bulwark," Bail agreed wryly.

"And you trust that Captain Solo is up to that challenge? As you've said, he would not be the first to meet their match in Leia."

"That is very true," Bail acknowledged, somewhat proudly. "But Han doesn't strike me as the type of man who will back down from a challenge...not even one as formidable as our daughter."

Breha could only hope that her husband's faith in Captain Solo had not been misplaced; she knew of several politicians and dignitaries, all vastly experienced but hopelessly over-confident, who had underestimated her daughter and consequently been put firmly in place, their arrogance and egotism having proven no match for Leia's keen intelligence and unwavering integrity.

Leia, Breha mused, would likely prove to be unlike any challenge that Han Solo had ever faced before.