A/N: so little feedback last chapter, why do yall hate me?


Padmé was busy, concentrated on her work in the tiny cubicle she got to call her office in the rebellion headquarters, going over a treaty that the New Republic was negotiating with the Rodians. She had once worked closely with some ingenious Rodians back in her days as a Senator, and they were now aiming to reestablish alliance with the Outer Rim world, so, naturally, she was the perfect person for the job.

She was focused, having been working on it for the past several hours, with no contact whatsoever with the external world. She had always had this ability to shut herself off to the world when she was busy with her politics to the point she would easily forget to eat and to drink — something that she terribly missed her handmaidens for, as they were always there to take care of her while she was busy taking care of the rest of the galaxy.

True to her nature, she would have gladly stayed there for the rest of the day, until Luke — very true to his own nature — would come to fetch her so they would have dinner together. However, they would not be having dinner that night.

Later, when she would come to think about it, she doubted they would have a peaceful meal again any time so soon.

Padmé was so fixated on her reading that the abrupt swing open of the door was all it took for her to have her heart thundering in her chest. Turning around to find Luke's despaired face traits did not help her heartbeat to calm in the slightest.

"What's wrong, Luke?"

"Something bad happened," he said, out of breath. Without asking for permission, he started messing with the papers over her desk, clearly looking for something. "I should have seen it coming. I should have known that it was bound to happen. The Force showed it to me but I was too blind to see it—"

"Luke," Padmé commanded her voice so he would stop rambling and listen to her. He stopped talking, but he did not stop fumbling around. "Take a deep breath and tell me what's going on."

He snapped his fingers several times, trying to think of the words that his brain refused to offer him.

"Luke," she called his name once again. He seemed physically alright, so that was something less that might be wrong in her very long list of things that might be wrong. "Where is your sister, Luke?"

"Hm? Leia?" that seemed to have brought him back to himself, something to hold himself to. "She's at the Senate. Do you have a holocaster?"

Padmé silently pointed to a side table in the corner of the room where the holocaster was placed. Luke hurried towards it and flicked through channels until he found the one disturbing him the most, and stepped aside so Padmé could watch it for herself and understand the gravity of the situation.

She frowned when she saw the image of an Imperial officer there; a high-ranking one, given his insignia. Of course, his simple image there was enough indicator of trouble, but Padmé only came to understand how bad it was when words started pouring out from his lips.

"Today, we watch the Rebellion attempt to build their sick excuse of a New Republic, a new order built from chaos and anarchy. The people responsible for the death of our Emperor and his second hand, Darth Vader, should not be granted the right to govern. For all, they are terrorists, traitors of the Galactic Empire. These are not the people you will want to rule your life.

"How can you trust the leaders that have claimed power for themselves by shedding blood, when the Empire has done everything in its power to keep you safe? How can you trust the so-called heroes that would kill every galactic leader in order to achieve power for themselves? How can you trust the princess, the face of your new world order, that stood and cheered next to Lord Vader as her homeworld was destroyed?

"Alderaan was no mistake, and Princess Leia knew as much when she didn't do anything to save her people, instead watched peacefully inside the Death Star the fate of her homeworld. And now, she poses as the hero of the New Republic, when nobody was more complicit in the destruction of her homeworld than herself. If she could stand by and salute as we obliterated her people, nothing is stopping her from betraying every citizen of her New Republic to achieve further power and glory for herself.

"Do not fool yourselves into believing her martyrdom act. Fight for your voice and end this New Republic, born from corruption ever since its first day.

"Long live the Empire!"

The transmission started over again, but Luke was quick to turn off the device; hearing it once was already enough. He searched for Padmé's expression and found her face a mixture of whiteness and blank, her eyes still fixated at the hologram that was no more.

He couldn't blame her. When a rogue fighter had come to him with the transmission and he first watched it, he had reacted just as badly.

"Is it just me or did they just accuse Leia of blowing up Alderaan?"

Her brain was glitching; of course it was, there was no other explanation for her brain's delay to fully grasp the meaning behind the Empire's message. Well, maybe old age, but she didn't think she was there yet. She brought her hand to her forehead, feeling a headache lurking in the back of her head.

"Luke, this isn't good."

Politically, she saw it as the Empire's last attempt at shattering the New Republic when the latter was already on its way and the former struggling to make a stance. Politically, she wouldn't worry about the transmission; it was the act of a desperate man, a man still fighting the war that had ended the moment Palpatine and Vader had lost their lives. Personally, however, she worried; she worried for Leia.

Ever since Padmé first arrived, there was only one thing she could see clearly about the princess — the immeasurable grief and burden she carried for the death of her planet. There was no point in trying to tell her she wasn't responsible for it, although they had always tried, but having somebody blame her for it — even if just a lowlife imperial — would crystallize every guilt that Leia still carried within herself.

Padmé closed her eyes; and here she was, thinking they were past all their turmoils.

"Luke," she called for him, taking a deep breath to focus on one thing at a time. "Where is Han?"

"In the Outer Rim," Luke replied sorrowfully. "He's meeting a contact there, isn't expected to come back until the end of the week."

"He would come back for Leia, though."

"In a heartbeat," he agreed. "He isn't very good at keeping up with the news, though."

Padmé sighed; of course this all had to go down the moment Han Solo had taken a trip off-world. "We could contact him. He needs to be here."

"We could try," he said, "I'm pretty sure he's gone radio silent in order not to attract any imperial attention."

"Of course," Padmé silently damned it. "Have you heard from Leia?"

"I tried to comm her the moment I saw — that," he vaguely pointed towards the holocaster, "She either didn't see it or ignored me. Probably the latter."

She nodded — knowing Leia and how attached she was to her comm for professional reasons while also keeping everyone at an arm's length when it came to her emotional state, it was definitely the latter.

"Luke… This isn't good."

"No," Luke said, "Leia — might just believe them. She already did long before this — this jackass decided to say these things about her."

Amidst everything, Padmé suddenly fought the urge to laugh at Luke's attempt at name-calling the imperial officer; after all, she had a far greater list of names to call the man that was coming after her daughter, and she might even share them with Luke as the day went by.

"They're trying to discredit her," Padmé said, holding her composure. "It's their final attempt at demolishing everything that you fought for. Leia has made herself the face of the rebellion ever since they took Alderaan from her, and now, given her diplomatic and political skills, of course she will be at the center of rebuilding the New Republic. The imperials know that their only chance of disparaging the New Republic is from accusing the ones in the midst of it."

Luke leaned against her desk, his arms crossed uncomfortably across his chest. "You're also an astute politician. Do you think people will… will believe them? Will they believe the accusations?"

Padmé grit her teeth; it was never easy to predict the beliefs of the general public.

"There are many Empire sympathizers still out there," she said, "But… There are a lot of supporters of the New Republic as well. And there are even more people who still haven't made up their minds. Mostly, and I honestly can't tell if for best or for worst — it all falls on Leia's hands now. On how she deals with damage control."

Luke scowled; he had no idea how Leia would make things easier for the New Republic when she believed in everything that had been said about her.

"Padmé, how will she go out there and convince the galaxy she isn't responsible for the disaster when she can't even convince herself of that?"

She gently rubbed her forehead; her headache was already starting to kick in.

"I don't know, Luke," she confessed. "I don't know how to help her when she doesn't want to be helped. Not regarding this. Not when she's determined to carry this burden to her grave."

"But we have to do something, mother," Luke demanded.

Padmé nodded; she knew that, just as she knew it wouldn't be easy.

"What did you mean, you were supposed to see this coming?"

Luke loudly exhaled, and for his facial expression, Padmé would have guessed they were sharing a headache. "The other day, when I was meditating with you — the Force was trying to show this to me. I saw Alderaan's destruction, I stood by Leia's side as Vader called her a monster for allowing this to happen to her people. The Force was trying to warn me, but I was too blind to see it."

Padmé scowled; that vision — certainly mustn't have been pleasant.

"Well… Could you have prevented it?"

"No, but—"

"Then we can't waste time thinking of what could have been," Padmé gently told him.

He sighed. "I could — have alerted Leia. Help her prepare herself for the blow."

"Luke, she would have felt the blow nonetheless," she said. "She has been feeling it ever since the disaster happened. She's just too good at hiding away the pain from the impact."

"This is different, Padmé," Luke insisted. "Blaming yourself for something and having others blame you hit differently. Nobody has ever stopped her and told her directly that she killed Alderaan. It doesn't matter that she might already believe it, this will affect her as hard as watching Alderaan become dust."

"It will," Padmé concurred simply.

"So — what do we do?"

"We are there for her," she said, "And we tell her over and over again that she isn't responsible. If we tell her that enough times, maybe she will listen."


When Leia woke up that morning, alone in her small private bunk at the rebellion headquarters, there was a funny feeling tingling down her spine.

Skeptical to the core, she ignored the things she couldn't explain, and started off her day as normally as she would. Even if that feeling left her side, and it made it hard for her to think of anything other than — what was happening to her?

Regardless — Leia Organa was still a princess, a diplomat. She was conditioned to keep her composure and hold her head high to the exterior world despite the inner turmoils happening within her. Even if that earned her title of the Ice Princess to the foreign eyes, she would always carry her duty above anything else.

No matter how hard it was, no matter the days her grief was so loud she could barely breathe, or the days the things that had happened during the civil war hurt so badly she couldn't think of anything else.

Anthropologically speaking, she was always destined to move forward, despite the aches of the past. Politically speaking, her duty determined she never looked back.

She would thrive like she always had.

Leia ignored that sixth sense as she carried out her day. Even if it made her feet incessantly tap against the floor as she tried to work, if it caused her to lose her appetite around lunch. if it made her acutely aware of her surroundings to the point she could barely focus on anything else, so ready she was for any potential danger to come.

Then, it all made sense when the holocaster in her office blinked and she turned it on to see whatever had happened now. The tingling in the back of her head tried to numb her every emotion as she listened carefully to an imperial officer's message, yet, it still screamed at her — something bad was going to happen.

She listened, and she was prepared for whatever attempt at degrading the New Republic they would try now. She was a diplomat, she had been raised to keep her composure in the face of crisis and logically come to a solution with the least amount of casualties. Whatever the remaining of the Empire would throw at them, she could deal with it; she had already handled the crudest things that the Empire had to offer, so this would be nothing compared to the war.

If that was true, then why did she suddenly feel her knees weak underneath her? If any of that was true, then why had she crumbled to the floor in despair?

The Princess that had stood and cheered next to Lord Vader as her homeworld was destroyed.

Her lower lip started to tremble; she had lost complete control of her senses and emotions. Her fingers dug deeply to the carpet underneath her as she desperately tried to hold herself to something tangible, to detach herself from the perpetual prison of her grief. She did not have the right to grief when she had been responsible for Alderaan's fate; she did not get to shed a single tear for her home when she was to blame for its loss.

Her parents would be so disappointed. From all the babies in the galaxy, they had chosen her and she had destroyed their legacy.

She had destroyed everything. Even though she hadn't cheered, she had stood next to Vader and she had done nothing to stop Tarkin's barbarous deed.

Princess Leia didn't do anything to save her people.

Her breathing became erratic, and she breathed in broken oxygen. Her eyes were burning and she would like to scream. Maybe, if she screamed, she would relieve some of the weight crushing her. Or maybe, it would be for nothing. The weight of Alderaan would always be on her shoulders, she would carry that cross for the rest of her life.

She didn't get to whine or complain about that. Not when she had killed Alderaan.

Nobody was more complicit in the destruction of her homeworld than herself.

Drops of sweat emerged across her forehead, a hot flush taking over her. Her chest felt tight and heavy, and she started to hyperventilate in her selfish attempts of staying alive. It wasn't fair! It wasn't fair that she had lived when she had condoned every Alderaanian to their death. She shouldn't have survived, she shouldn't have to carry the weight of a dead civilization while trying to keep its culture and traditions alive—

Not when she wanted to crumble down and feel every jab of hurting and grief that echoed with her every heartbeat.

So, at that moment — she felt, and just that.

The imperial message replayed over and over again, each time perpetuating the words of guilt and blame deeper into her core.


Having served both at Galactic Senate and the Imperial Senate, Mon Mothma was far too used to chaos and desperate measures at the face of certain doom.

Being a Senator under the Empire's ruling, Mon Mothma had seen far too many times inhumanities happen inside the Senate, even, while she was struck with the impotence of doing nothing. Forced to watch and refrain herself from acting as a less fortunate people suffered the consequences of fascism. All things considered, she had learned to live alongside ruthless atrocities, while keeping her head high and pretending they did not bother her so the Empire wouldn't start suspecting her as well.

Those were the very aspects of the Empire that she and her peers were working hard to extinguish in the New Republic. The new galaxy order was supposed to be welcoming to all, free of any sort of bigotry — theoretically, of course. Mon Mothma understood very well that it would be impossible to eliminate all the hatred spread across the galaxy overnight.

Still, when she saw manifestations of cruelty and just plain inhumanity before her eyes, she thought it further and further away the day that they would get to fully reestablish peace across the galaxy.

Mon Mothma was having a meeting with the Ambassador from Ryloth when her assistant called for her, telling her of matters that could not be postponed or delegated, forcing the senator from Chandrila to end her meeting shorter and excuse herself. She had noticed the terrified expression stamped across her assistant's face, but chose to ignore it — after all, the girl was most inexperienced in the political world, and matters that seemed like the end of the world for her might be no different than an ordinary day in Mon's life.

It wasn't until she found herself back in the privacy of her office, watching yet another inhumane message from the Empire that no longer stood, that Mothma felt herself drifting further away from peaceful democracy.

The message started over, but she had turned her brain off to its sound. Instead, her mind rested with the strongest woman she had ever known — the woman whose figure the Empire was trying to break.

"How long ago was this broadcasted?" she asked her assistant, turning her head in the slightest but not establishing eye contact.

"Just over an hour ago, ma'am," the assistant named Marlow replied.

She nodded discreetly — one hour was all it took for chaos to unfold.

"Has Princess Leia tried to contact us?"

"No, ma'am," she said, "Nobody has seen the Princess ever since — it was broadcasted."

Taking one deep breath, Mon Mothma finally forced herself out of her haze.

"Cancel all my appointments for the day," she demanded, raising herself from her chair. "Marlow, unless another Death Star is hovering Coruscant — do not contact me. You understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," Marlow assented, watching as her boss rushed towards the door. "Ma'am?"

Mothma turned her head back to the girl. "What is it, Marlow?"

"Is it… Is it true?" she faltered, "What they said — about her."

Mon grimaced.

"You've met Princess Leia, Marlow," she gently scolded her, "What is the impression you have of her?"

Marlow shifted uncomfortably. "That she is a very strong and fierce leader. One that doesn't stand down in the face of oppression."

Mothma bowed. "You know her personally, Marlow. The rest of the galaxy doesn't. When asked, your opinion of her matters the most, and I hope you'll repay the kindness that she has always shown you."

Not waiting for an answer, Mon Mothma left.


Working behind the safety of the Senate and behind the war lines, Mon Mothma saw inhumanities happening right before her, but she always remained distant, and she never witnessed beforehand the damage that said inhumanities did to those involved.

Until she walked into Leia's office without announcing herself and found the princess fallen to the floor, sitting uncomfortably over her legs with her head bowed down.

The imperial officer's message replayed in a loop in the background — she was torturing herself with his words; her own penitence for what she believed she had done to Alderaan.

Mon walked straight to the holocaster and turned it off, the silence that followed just as uncomfortable. With a better view of the princess now, Mothma noticed the wet trails down her cheeks, the redness of her eyes, the tension of her body.

"Leia," she gently called for her, extending her hand, "Get up."

She didn't intend to sound rude or inconsiderate, but rare had been the times she had seen the princess dismantled — Leia didn't enjoy breaking down in public, that much was clear. So, the best course of action would be to offer something concrete to hold onto, something far away from the dangers of her own mind.

Or so Mon Mothma believed.

Leia, however, remained unresponsive. She hadn't even acknowledged her mentor's presence next to her.

"Leia," she tried again, "The Empire is full of shit. Don't listen to them, don't give them what they want."

Leia remained still.

Sighing discreetly, Mon Mothma crouched down to be at her same level.

"Leia, as much I'd love to have this conversation here on the floor, I'm afraid my back wouldn't forgive me for the next three weeks."

Mon Mothma couldn't tell whether her physical presence closer to Leia or her poor attempt at humor had done the trick, but it had worked. She smiled faintly as Leia, at last, seemed to notice her there, who raised her head in the slightest towards her.

"What…?"

Once again, Mon offered her hand, and although Leia stared at it suspiciously for several moments to come, eventually, she accepted it.

"Let's get you home, Leia," Mon said, helping her up. She noticed the unsteadiness of her limbs but didn't comment on it.

"I don't have a home."

Mon Mothma did not know to respond to that without sound condescending. So, she didn't.

"Let's get you seated, then," she said, guiding towards the couch where Leia collapsed with a thud. Without the class and elegance a princess should bear despite any bad circumstances.

She fell down and buried her face in her hands, trying to both contain her emotions and hide the physical mess that she had become from her mentor. Hesitantly, Mon sat down next to her.

"What happened to Alderaan, Leia, was not your fault."

For a while, only the sound of Leia's unsteady breathing could be heard.

"You weren't aboard the Death Star."

"You speak as if you were there willingly," Mon's voice was firm. "You're right, I wasn't aboard the Death Star, I can't speak for the horrors that you were forced to endure there. Horrors, Leia. You did not ask for them."

"All I had to do was talk," Leia whispered, "If only I had talked—"

"Then what, they would have killed you?" Mon provoked. "I've known you ever since Bail brought you home, you were your parents' whole world. They would have been devastated to have their greatest joy sent home to them in a coffin."

"The Empire wouldn't be stupid to send my body back to Alderaan. They would throw me into space before they admitted to killing me."

And that was when Mon Mothma knew Leia wasn't listening; her mind was barely there, and there was no point in trying to talk her through everything that had happened when there would be no result.

"I should be dead."

Mothma frowned; that statement worried her.

"Leia—"

"I was scheduled for execution," Leia spoke aggressively, at last lowering her hands from her face. "They were going to kill me. I wasn't supposed to have lived, my fate should have always been the same as Alderaan's."

"Do you honestly believe that would have made it any easier?" Mon incited. "Yes, you would have been dead, you wouldn't have to live with this pain for the rest of your life. But, had you died, what would have happened to Alderaan?"

Leia snapped her neck towards Mon in anger.

"Alderaan is dead, Mon," she said, enraged, "Alderaan would have remained space dust. Alderaan will always be space dust, for the rest of eternity."

"That's where you're wrong, Leia," unlike the princess, Mon held to her calm. She reached out for Leia's hand and guided it towards her chest. "Alderaan lives in you. Alderaan lives through you."

Leia sniffed, her long blinks enough of an indicator of how badly she was trying to hold it together. "Alderaan is gone. Nothing I do will ever bring it back."

"The physical concept of Alderaan is gone, and no, you can't ever bring it back," Mon reasoned. "However, it is still your responsibility to carry Alderaan's legacy. Your traditions, your culture, your philosophy — if you're not here to hold these ideals, then Alderaan will cease for good."

Once again, she buried her face in her hands. "How can I be a good leader for my people when I'm the reason they can never go home again?!"

Mon placed her hand delicately on Leia's back. "I will tell you this as many times I need until you listen to me, but, Leia — you're not responsible for what happened to Alderaan."

Leia sniffed, her gaze lost ahead of her. "You heard what they said—"

"All lies brought by the small-minded men destined to undermine everything that you achieved for this galaxy," she informed, "They want to bring you down, but you cannot allow them to succeed, Leia. Otherwise, you won't get to see come through what you achieved."

Leia bit down on her lower lip.

"The only thing you're responsible for, Leia, is restoring peace back to the galaxy," Mon said, "They tried to take everything from you, but they couldn't take away your heart or your light. You responded to their evil with your perseverance, and now the galaxy will always be in your debt."

She shook her head vigorously.

"I don't want to be a hero," she declared, breathlessly. "I carried on the fight because it was what my father raised me for all my life, because it's always been my duty. I could not give up when Alderaan paid the ultimate price, but — I don't want to be a hero. I just want to go home."

Mon ran her hand up and down Leia's back in small attempts of comfort.

"You cannot go back to your home, but that doesn't mean you can't build a new home for yourself," Mon instructed. "You've built yourself a new family with the people you met along the way, and that's the beauty of life, Leia. You get to have more than a home."

Leia sniffed again, it being harder to breathe by the second.

"I've watched you grow ever since the battle of Yavin," she continued, "You were so shut off to the rest of the world, even though you kept your head high. Above all, you had closed your heart from anyone who dared to come in your way. Seeing you slowly lower the walls you've built around yourself and eventually allow love to find you again made me so happy, because you from all people deserve to have happiness in your life. Do not let them take away your happiness again."

Leia wrapped her arms around herself, feeling very small under the scrutiny of Mon Mothma's eyes.

"It is hard to be happy when I'm sad most of the time," Leia confessed in a small voice. "I don't think I'm deserving of being happy again."

Mon sighed, although she appreciated how the princess was, at last, speaking up about her inner struggles. "Alderaan would want you to be happy again, Leia."

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do," she insisted, "You're not the only Alderaanian that survived, and I can tell with conviction that, from all the other Alderaanians I've met along the way, there isn't a single one of them that doesn't love you, or admire you for everything you've done. They want you to be happy again, Leia, but they also need you to. If they can see you achieve a happy life again, they'll find their paths in the light as well."

Leia swallowed uncomfortably. "So you're saying I should be happy for them."

"No, you should be happy for yourself," Mon debunked, "But if being happy for them is the only way you'll learn how to be happy again, then you must find your way to be happy in their name."

Leia blinked away her tears.

"There are thousands of Alderaanians still alive across the galaxy," Mon Mothma said, "They never raised their voice to fault you for what happened to your home. Only the Empire did, and after everything we've gone through, I believe you know better than to listen to anything that the Empire might have to offer."

"Is it really listening to them," Leia dared, "If they were only reiterating the words inside my head?"

Knowing that they were talking in circles, Mon Mothma decided on a new approach.

"Your parents would never blame you for what happened."

Leia immediately brought her hands to her mouth, trying to contain the choking sound that the simple assertion caused her.

"Please don't go there."

"I must go there, Leia, because that's the only way you'll listen," Mon Mothma alleged. "Your parents knew the risks they were taking the moment they started the rebellion. They knew that, if the Empire learned of their involvement in the rebellion, they would pay the ultimate price, but they were ready to defy the chances in the name of the greater good. They always wanted the galaxy to experience the same standards of art and beauty that Alderaan held. That's why the Empire destroyed Alderaan, Leia, not because of you. Because evil and hatred cannot stand to see beauty thrive."

"I cannot accept that," Leia argued, her voice faltering. "My parents knew the risks, yes, but they always did everything in their power to protect Alderaan, to hide their involvement in the rebellion. Then, I get caught. Not them. I was the rebellious princess, I put Alderaan through the magnifying glass, not my parents."

Mon Mothma shook her head. "I know for a fact that you're smarter than that. I have taught you to be smarter than that."

Leia sighed in defiance, but her defiance disappeared too soon. She pulled her legs up the couch and embraced them.

"I can't stop thinking," she started with a hoarse voice, "Of all the orphan babies, my father had to bring home the one that would bring him doom."

"Your father wouldn't blame you," Mon Mothma said once more. "Your father was the proudest man whenever he spoke of you."

"His pride took him to his grave."

"I still remember the last time I saw your father so clearly," Mon ignored Leia's comment. "It was a few days before the battle of the Yavin, we were still struggling as to how we would obtain the Death Star plans, if we would obtain them at all — until a very brave squadron ignored our orders of not going after the plans and sacrificed themselves for the cause. We couldn't let them lose their lives in vain, and we needed someone we could trust to retrieve the plans and go after General Kenobi in Tatooine. I couldn't think of a single person in the rebellion whom I could unconditionally trust for such an important mission, but your father… He smiled at me, that smug and infuriating smile of his, and he said — he would trust you with his life."

This time, there was no containing the stream of tears descending her cheeks. She turned to the older woman and at last allowed herself to be seen.

"How is that supposed to make it any better — he trusted me with his life, and I took his life from him, from my mother, from Alderaan."

"Leia, you're not listening to me."

"Yes, I am! You're only corroborating what I already know, what the imperials are determined to tell the rest of the galaxy. He made the mistake of his life when he decided to trust me and send me for Tatooine."

Mon exhaled profoundly as Leia broke eye contact again.

"I can't talk to you when you're in this mindset."

"Fine. Then leave, I don't care. The door is right there," Leia pointed angrily, and whispered the next sentence for herself only, "I'm far too used to the people I know leaving me behind."

If Mon Mothma heard her last comment, Leia would never know.

"I won't leave you, Leia," she said, "I promised your father I wouldn't."

"I don't know what's that supposed to mean," Leia muttered, already having lost all the fire inside of her.

"It means that, ever since your father helped us found the rebellion, he was well aware that he might not make it out alive," Mon commanded the room with her strong voice. "He didn't fear death, however — he feared leaving you behind. You were his pride and joy, and the mere idea of seeing you hurt brought him to his knees. Still, he knew he couldn't give up the cause because he was fighting so you would have a chance of having a better life. But the risks on his life were always there, there was always the chance that, one day, he might not make it back home. I had never seen your father so vulnerable until the day he asked me to look after you, should anything happen to him."

Just like that, oxygen was stolen from Leia's lungs.

"It's not — he didn't think you were incapable of looking after yourself. No, you were always the strongest little girl under his eyes. Still, he would like someone to care for you, even from the distance. Because he knew you, Leia, and he knew how prone you were to take the weight of the world onto you. He only ever wanted you to be happy, but he knew that his death would take a ton out of you, and Bail always struggled to let you go, even as you grew up into a remarkable woman. Bail would be very proud of whom you've become, Leia, but he would also have been heartbroken to see you blame yourself for things you weren't responsible for."

Leia found her hands trembling and clasped them together to try and make them stop.

"On my father's behalf, I release you from your debt," she tried to make her voice steady, "You don't have to worry about me anymore."

"Don't I?" Mon provoked.

"No," Leia answered gravely. "I will be fine. I just have to — ride this out."

Mon chuckled sadly.

"You're always fine, aren't you?" she asked. "There's nothing wrong in admitting defeat once in a while, you know."

"Yes, there is," she refuted. "I can't ever admit defeat. I owe Alderaan this much."

"It isn't supposed to be so black and white."

"Yet, it still is."

Mon gently squeezed Leia's shoulder, feeling her shiver underneath.

"I can't be the one to guide you through your grief and help you understand that the past was and still is out of your control, and you're not the one to blame for every misdeed that has happened," she reasoned. "I can't be the one, nor Padmé, nor Han, nor Luke. Only you can do it, Leia."

"And if I don't?" Leia dared, "And if I can't?"

"Then I think it would be a very sad way of living," Mon Mothma patronized, "However, it's still your life, and you're entitled to live it as you wish."

Leia pulled her back straight, the veil of the ice princess falling over her once more, like Mothma's words had just reminded her of who she was, and that she still had a duty to fulfill.

"We need to hold a press conference, so I can address both the galaxy and my people," she said coldly, her face devoid of expression, her eyes devoid of life. Erasing the past emotional minutes from existence. "This doesn't affect only the Alderaanians, but the New Republic as well."

Mon Mothma pulled her hand back to herself, understanding that Leia was no longer there, only the diplomatic princess. "I will make the necessary arrangements. Tomorrow, when you're in a better mindset."

Facing ahead, Leia nodded.

"I need a speech, refuting their propaganda," she continued, and Mothma felt a bit of disappointment hearing Leia's choice of vocables — she wanted to refute Imperial propaganda, not the atrocities that had been said about her. "I confess not being in a good place to write my own speech."

"I will write something for you," Mon stated, "I don't want you to worry about it."

"I won't," Leia muffed softly; after all, she still trusted Mon Mothma unconditionally, and that her mentor would only do what was best for the people of the New Republic — even if it resorted to writing a narrative that Leia didn't personally agree with.

Likewise — Leia was still a princess. She understood very well that what she felt didn't concern the public, she was only under the obligation of doing what was best for them.

"Do me a favor and do not listen to the broadcast again," Mon asked of her. "I don't care if you agree with what they claim — it'll only degrade your mental health, and I need you to be up on your feet tomorrow."

"I will not let you down," she promised. "I'm aware of my duty, I will present myself steady tomorrow."

Mon Mothma compressed her lips in a thin line — sometimes, all she wished was that her old friend's daughter didn't try so hard to remain steady on all occasions.

Unfortunately, she did not have the chance to address her concerns as the door to Leia's office hissed opened, giving way to another concerned mind.

Padmé rushed towards the couch where the two women were seated, regardless of a lack of invitation, and sat over the arm, next to Leia. She noticed how tense Leia resembled to be, with her back straight and her arms rigid to her sides, but she couldn't understand why her face was so — blank.

Had Leia suddenly regressed back inside the walls she had so meticulously built around herself?

Forgetting all about Leia's disdain for unasked physical touch, Padmé placed her hand on her shoulder.

"What they said, Leia — it isn't true."

Leia breathed in a long breath, trying her best not to lose it at either woman.

"The Empire is in shambles, and they're desperately trying to make their stand," Padmé continued, gently offering rubs to Leia's back. "And in their despair, they let out the monster that they are come out, aiming to hurt as many people in their attempts to survive. I know that what they've said — is cruel, and it's something you've struggled with for years now. However, that sort of judgment can't come from them, but from your people only. If your people don't hold you at fault for what the Empire's done, then the Empire doesn't have the right to, either."

Mon Mothma listened to her old friend speak with interest; maybe Leia would listen to her.

Instead—

"Fuck it," Leia mumbled underneath her breath, mercilessly getting up and walking away without giving them a second glance.

Padmé's jaw dropped in confusion as she stood there, her hand still hanging in the air as if Leia's ghost was still there.

Mon Mothma sighed.

"It's not you," Mon said, leaning back on the couch. "Or — maybe it is. Unfortunately, you are a living reminder of the parents that she lost, and your presence will always clash with their loss, at least until she learns how to cope with her grief."

Padmé's eyes were glued to the door where Leia had come out through, almost expecting she would come back any time now.

"I — Did you talk to her?"

Mon hummed in acknowledgment. "I'm not sure our conversation went anywhere, though. It's hard to talk when one refuses to listen."

Padmé nodded.

"I used to think that her grief was healthy," Padmé admitted. "She's lost her whole world, the Empire made her watch as they destroyed everything she'd had ever known, Mon, of course she's entitled to her grief. However, the longer I'm here, the more I start to realize — her grief is unhealthy, and it borders on affecting badly on her well-being, if it hasn't already."

Mon bowed her head in sad agreement.

Padmé, at last, turned her eyes toward Mon Mothma. "Unfortunately, there's little I can do when I'm in the personification of all she's lost."

"She needs to learn how to cope with her losses on her own," Mon argued. "Getting better — it needs to come from her own volition."

Padmé rubbed her temples tiredly. "I fear that she might be so settled into this person she has become that she might dread coming out of her cocoon."

"Speak from experience?"

"I wish I wasn't," Padmé sighed.

"Well," Mon prompted, "How did you make it out?"

"I realized I was hurting myself more than my actual losses did," she confessed.

"Tell her that," she said. "Maybe, she'll listen."

Pressing her lips together, Padmé prayed that she would.


A/N: aaaaaaaaaaaand i'll let you interpret luke's vision however you like (for the time being hehe)

feedback's appreciated :)