"I'm glad you came back, Luke," Leia said a little over a week later.
Travelling by transport from the outer rim to the core was slow, arduous, and hazardous. Andressa wasn't the only one to share a story of abduction from these types of journeys. Those in the slave trade thrived on victims from just these types of trips. But I wanted to surprise Leia, and I knew that the Force had guided me to the right transport on the right day.
And so, here I was. The underground passageways in the Alderaan palace were one of the better-kept secrets of the place, and while the Empire knew of some, they didn't know of the more remote ones. These were the ones I used to access the Aldera palace when I needed to do so covertly; this had been only my second time doing so.
After sneaking through the palace and using the Force to repel detection, I'd surprised my sister while she worked on her beloved orchid plants.
A funny thing about the particular Malastarian orchids Leia grew: they naturally blocked bug frequencies, creating a sole safe space in the palace in which to talk. My sister was nothing if not strategic and skillful in her seemingly innocuous hobby.
While Leia worked on her new hopefuls, I apologized, explained, and expressed my willingness to help her in this great endeavor. She watered some pale pink blooms, then clipped a few leaves on some blue shoots, and finally, turned around and gave me a huge hug.
"I'm sorry, too," she'd whispered. "I should never have thrown Yoda and Obi-Wan in your face like that. I know this is a long shot. But we've got to try."
"We won't try," I'd replied. "We'll do. We must."
And thus, I now continued, "I'm glad, too. But Leia… we've got to be careful. We've got to be so careful…"
She snorted. "Understatement of the Imperial century."
"Well…" Saying anything more out loud meant saying things like "death to Alderaan" and "death to us all after intense torture". "And Han?" I asked.
She slapped down her shears. "Stubborn as ever. Of course, he still thinks you're backing him. But maybe once he knows…"
I doubted this. "Hmm," I replied. "I'll talk with him."
"Would you?"
"Sure. I didn't agree to this half-heartedly, Leia. I'm in. But he'll be concerned about one thing…" I predicted.
"Padmé," said Han not half an hour later. His eyes blazed and his cheeks were flushed. He slammed his fist down on the same place Leia had once slapped down her pruning shears. "Haven't either of you taken her into any consideration whatsoever? Oh—and let's remember, small detail— all of kriffing Alderaan! I for one ain't fancyin' the idea of bein' roasted and toasted."
Leia kept her queenly composure. "It's for Padmé in part that we've decided to do this, Han. She can't grow up in a galaxy like this."
"Given she adores it thanks to the education you suggested, I'm pretty sure she won't suffer," Han retorted. "Sure to suffer a lot less than any other route," he added pointedly.
It was true, Padmé did adore the Empire, and apparently that hadn't changed in the past three years. Only last visit, she'd sat me down and treated me to a two-hour lecture on the wonderful qualities of Emperor Palpatine and why he was a veritable galactic savior. She was writing a paper on him for school, she explained; it ought to be roughly ten pages, minimum. Her mother was very proud of her.
Only she wasn't. Leia's lips tightened. "Padmé's love for the Empire keeps her and all of Alderaan safe."
"Yeah. And maybe it's time you start thinkin' about those two things a bit more." Han uttered a fresh oath. "I'm so outta here. You both—get your kriffin' heads together. By the time I get back with Cess, you had better have gotten through with these damned fool ideas, or I'm gonna have to do somethin' I don't want to."
Leia flushed. "Are you threatening us?"
Han got right back in her face. "Damn straight, sweetheart."
"You aren't taking her," Leia threw back. "Padmé is only three months away from her Day of Demand. She needs to practice, and to finish her coursework—"
"What good is investiture and coursework if my girl's dead?"
"So you pick her! Like you always have!"
"Like you never have," Han retorted, and with that, he stalked out.
Leia thrust her chin up in the air, maintaining her dignity, clearly trying to convince both me and herself that she was holding it together. I opened my arms gently, and it was not ten seconds before she fell into them, bursting into wretched sobs.
OOO
Han returned to the palace roughly three hours later. True to form, he was drunk. And I should say that he "returned" in the sense that a few palace attendants had to help him into bed, where he promptly fell into sonorous, snoring sleep.
Later, Leia fumed, "I can't believe him. His behavior is completely and increasingly unacceptable for a Viceroy, Luke."
"He's just concerned about Padmé and—"
"Yes! Padmé! It's always about her!" A distinct note of bitterness sang within my sister's words that seemed to have nothing to do with Han's stubbornness as related to the Alliance, or his princely behavior—or lack thereof.
I didn't know what to say. So I rerouted, "Do you think we should tell her?"
"Tell who?"
"Padmé. Shouldn't she know what we're doing?"
"You must be joking."
"...no. Why would I be?"
"Luke. She'd probably report us."
I knew it happened. Children reported parents, grandparents, friends, or distant relations for Anti-Imperial activities. It used to be more common, but after the Death Star, everyone had fallen into line. But while I knew Padmé had her flaws and her current Imperial loyalties, I couldn't believe she'd turn on her parents—most especially her father. In my opinion, Leia had spent far too much time lying to her daughter, who was nearly of age on Alderaan (sixteen). Time to tell truth, and ask for her help.
I believed Padmé capable of that.
"Not Han," I returned of Leia's fears she may report.
Leia breathed out. "I'm not too sure anymore."
"What does that mean?"
"All that time she spends with the Tarkin Twins… I think Alba is influencing her badly against him. And I think Padmé's begun to believe it."
Translation: She's becoming contemptuous towards Han. Some of the drunken Han's slurring words about "Cess" (his nickname for his daughter) and "won't go" came back to me, and I had a nasty feeling his daughter might have expressed the sentiment earlier. My gut dipped.
"She isn't… she isn't a bad person, Leia," I ventured.
Leia said nothing. Then, "At least she isn't Force-sensitive."
"Excuse me?"
"I didn't mean—it's just… she idolizes him." Vader. Leia refused to say the name. In all the time we'd known each other, I don't think she'd spoken it once.
I balked. "Since when?"
"Since a few years ago. You wouldn't know."
So, Leia was, inherently, saying she was glad for her daughter's lack of Force-sensitivity because she thought she might turn evil. Her lack of faith made my gut clench, and something like anger rise up in me. Then you should be telling her the truth, not keeping all these secrets from her. Who do you think you're helping, Leia?
I reminded myself, There is no emotion. There is peace.
"Besides," Leia added, "not telling her protects her."
Right, I thought. Sure. Because we both knew that any further betrayals by the royal house of Alderaan would lead to its complete destruction. If we were discovered, everyone, including Padmé, would die - probably far more painfully than by mere beheading. But disabusing Leia of her desperate notion would only frighten her; and she was so steadfast, right now.
I just didn't like the lies and secrecy. It didn't seem to have done Padmé much good so far. I conceded, "Alright. Then, let's talk through how we'll retrieve the plans from Erso. Then we can go looking for allies…"
I just didn't mention to Leia that I intended to visit Padmé, and see for myself if Leia's lack of faith in her daughter had merit. I couldn't believe so. But I could believe that Padmé needed to learn some measure of the truth in order to avoid complete Imperial brainwashing. I only hoped my intervention wouldn't come too late.
