Author's Note: I have no clue where this bitter little fic-bit came from or if it would ever fit into anything else I've written or will write, but I haven't been able to write for so long this is actually made me feel less hopeless about not writing.

Obviously takes place sometime after the original trilogy.


"Do you think Alderaan and the Old Republic's hands were free from blood, your Highness?' he asked softly, not looking up from his work, "how much do you know about your biological father? Did you know he was born a slave? Could Anakin Skywalker have been born a slave if Alderaan and the Old Republic were such wonderful bastions of freedom?"

Leia froze, anger already bubbling up in her now reaching a breaking point, she opened her mouth, only for Fett to cut her off.

"It's all well and good to talk about solving a problem, but as far I can remember Alderaan never actually did a damn thing to help the slaves on the Outer Rim, or the ones who may as well have been slaves working the factories, barges, and farms in the middle and inner core? Or did anything except make promises of 'after the war we're too pristine and prissy to fight ourselves' to the soldiers of the GAR? Every single kriffing one of us is guilty of something. Trying to say your hands are cleaner than mine, well, at least I'm aware of where the blood on mine came from. Can you truly say the same?"