Disclaimer: George's universe, I just play here.
Leia watched from the corner of the sofa while her husband casually carried a shrieking Anakin by his ankles down the hallway and into the kitchen, as the twins trotted happily alongside.
There's a lot to be said for Han's style of parenting, Leia mused, holding a steaming cup of caf close to her chest.
It was a quiet Saturday in the Solo household; one of those rare, peaceful days which she could enjoy, surrounded by her family, tucked away from the problems - large and small, real and speculative - which seemed to steal precious time, like this, away from all of them.
Han had announced he was going to make lunch. When he had asked the twins what they would like him to make, they both dissolved into hysterics and shouted for Anakin stew. Han agreed, causing Anakin to flee, giggling, as fast as he could to his bedroom.
This had not been enough to save him, however, and his shrieks were now joined by the twins laughter and offers to help their father "roast" the youngest member of their family.
Curious, she untangled herself from the throw-cover tucked around her feet, and went to watch this newest game unfold.
Stopping in the doorway, unable to keep the wide smile from growing across her face, she watched Han explain, very seriously, to the twins that they wouldn't be able to have Anakin stew since he didn't fit in the pot. Leia saw her youngest child sitting merrily in a large roasting pan, knees around his ears, grinning down at his siblings.
Turning her attention back to Han, she couldn't help thinking, smiling peacefully, of just how lucky she was.