Wow, my muse is really churning out these drabbles, eh? Don't worry, though. I'm working on TNQLL, but the chapter is turning out a little bit... longer than I thought.
Well, I always thought that Leia's future as a Rebel leader was determined from very early on, and that Bail raised her as such. And since Bail's not alive to regret his decision… I thought that someone should for him. Enter Mon Mothma. I don't know about you, but I always thought she had a hand in Leia's political education.
Enjoy.
Rob the Cradle
She was younger then, all her morals still intact. They had all believed, believed that they could win, they would win. And so as she had followed Viceroy Organa down the halls of his palace she had believed. She had been convinced that he was leading her to the Rebellion's own personal goddess, their saviour.
He had lead her to a darkened nursery, its floor strew with toys. In the low light she could see a figure in the bed. And Bail had turned to her and said, "There, Mon, there's your Senator," and Leia Organa's future had rolled out in front of her like a carpet, as far as the eye could see.
But Mon Mothma had looked at the child with the dark braid, the child who had no business being anyone's saviour, anyone's leader. The child who was a child.
And she had said no. No, I don't want her. No, let her be whatever she wants, let her be a painter, a doctor, a dancer. Let her worry about scraped knees and not blaster wounds. No, Bail, I don't want your child, the Rebellion can wait.
This is when Mon Mothma wakes from her dream. And she remembers that she said yes, and that Leia is not a doctor or a dancer. Leia is a soldier.
And that is Mon Mothma's fault.
Well?