One of the strangest games of sabacc I've ever played, thought Han, surveying the scene. And he'd played in Mos Eisley with a gang of Rodians, so he knew from strange.
Part of the strangeness was the fact that everyone at the table was so…casual about having a baby there, and that it didn't seem to cramp anyone's style. At various times, baby Lilya had been draped over Wedge's arm as he placed his bets and drank his whiskey; bounced on Janson's knee as he talked trash about Tycho's landing earlier that day; cradled in Hobbie's arms as he fed her a bottle; and "flown" by Tycho while Lando was dealing the next hand. After a diaper change, Chewie had wrapped her in a blanket and secured her on his bandolier, where she was sleeping snuggled up to his chest.
The other thing was Leia. She was drinking Corellian whiskey, talking a little trash, and cracking jokes, albeit still in the quiet, sardonic way she'd done when they'd played on the Falcon. Han had seen this side of her – he loved this side of her, honestly – but he'd never seen her act this way at the base. She was also quite the card player, which Lando had learned the hard way when she'd bluffed him last hand.
Chewie chortled. [I told you she was good.]
Lando took a long drink from his glass. "I was expecting good. I wasn't expecting that."
Leia shrugged. "I picked up a few things from playing on the Falcon."
While the Rogues strained themselves not to use that statement for an entire line of lewd jokes, Chewie yowled a response that made Han punch him in the arm, Lando laugh out loud, and Leia blush, although she was laughing too.
Janson was dying. "What? What'd he say?"
Leia's face was still a little pink. "He said, 'Yeah, occasionally they did make it out of the cabin long enough to play a hand or two.'"
After a few more hands, Leia called Threepio and asked him to meet her at her quarters to watch Lilya.
Han was not a fan of this idea. "You're gonna have Goldenrod babysit our kid?" Wedge and Janson nudged each other, amused.
Leia shook her head. "It'll be fine. She'll be asleep, right down the hall. Threepio's just going to be there in case she wakes up. Like a monitor. He'll comm us if she needs anything." She took Lilya from Chewie and started down the hall, then stopped and turned around. "Don't drink my whiskey," she warned, pointing at Han. He gave her a little salute.
"Han Solo, domesticated." Lando was smug behind his cards. Han said nothing but flipped him a rude gesture as he picked up his own hand.
"So, how did this all start?" Han waved his hand around to indicate the card game, Leia in the card game, Leia and a baby hanging out with the Rogues….
Wedge chuckled. "Blue milk," he said.
Six months earlier…
Third night in a row, Wedge noticed, as the Princess trudged past the Rogues' late-night card game on her way to the mess. He was headed there himself, getting a little ice to water down the rotgut whiskey Jansen had saddled them with.
She was at the cooler, pulling out one of Skywalker's bottles of blue milk and pouring herself a glass. "Hey," he greeted.
She smiled tiredly. "Hey." She put the glass down and slowly set herself down at one of the tables. With her small frame, at seven months pregnant she was practically all baby, and her movements had gotten a lot slower in the last few weeks.
Wedge turned back to her after filling his cup with ice. "How's the little Corellian doing? Keeping you up?"
She rubbed her belly gently. "She's fine. But yeah, she likes to do somersaults at night. And give me heartburn." She nodded toward her glass. "The milk seems to help."
She's lonely, Wedge realized. He remembered that Luke was on a mission and wouldn't be back until next week. And word had it that Chewie and Lando weren't expected to check back in for awhile. Their last set of reports hadn't been promising on finding Han.
She and Luke had been thicker than thieves over the last several months, spending most of the time they weren't working talking at each other's quarters, eating meals together, hanging out in the evenings. In fact, if it hadn't been for the Princess rather boldly sharing in a joint briefing that she and Solo were expecting a child, Wedge might have been inclined to assume that Luke, not Han, was the baby's father. That rumor had been floating around the Alliance among some of the younger recruits, the ones who hadn't seen Han and Leia on Hoth. For everyone else, the main surprise was not that Solo and the Princess had finally gotten together, but that she was being so open about it.
She needs a friend, Wedge thought. She was still the amazing leader she'd been on Hoth, the face of the Rebellion, and one of the hardest workers he knew, but when she stopped moving for a moment, you could see the tinge of sadness that followed her now. Luke had a little bit of it too these days. Maybe that's why they spent so much time together.
"Hey, why don't you come over with us? I can't let a lady drink alone."
A little bit of a smart grin crept over her face. "Who says I'm a lady?"
Wedge grinned back. Well, at least she still has her sense of humor. "C'mon. You don't have to play, just sit with us."
Leia considered it for a minute. "Okay, sure."
Wedge came over, helped her get up, and carried her glass of blue milk. As they walked over to the table where the Rogues were dealing a new hand, he noticed her tighten the top of the robe she was wearing to cover the visible part of the shirt underneath. She's wearing Solo's shirt to bed, he realized.
Janson sat up straight when they reached the table. "Your Highness."
Wedge pulled up a new chair for her, and she nodded in Janson's direction as she sat down.
Tycho was dealing. He snuck a glare at Wedge – what did you bring her over here for? – then looked at Leia. "Your Highness. You playin'?"
Leia took a sip of blue milk. "Maybe. What's the game?"
Wedge was trying to be a good host. "It's sabacc, but we could, uh…play something else next hand if you want to play." Tycho glared at him again.
She shook her head. "No, I'm good. Deal me in, Lieutenant."
The Rogues exchanged a series of surprised looks. Sabacc was not really a game that members of most royal houses – or respectable families, for that matter – would admit to playing. "The best sabacc players are the best liars," the saying went. Even for scrappy Rebel pilots, it was a little bit of a scoundrel's game, which was probably why they liked it. Although it was true that even Rieekan had been known to sit in on a few hands.
Janson recovered first. "Have you played before?"
Leia raised an eyebrow at him, and he looked a little terrified, but her tone was amused. "I spent almost six weeks on the Millennium Falcon traveling sublight. So, yes, I've played."
Five hands later, Leia had won three times, once so decisively that she'd nearly cleaned everyone out. Nice, Solo, Wedge thought. Seduce her and teach her how to take all of our money. Very Corellian of you. He was glad to see a little of the old Leia fire peeking through. Maybe more – he'd hung out with her a bit with Luke, but she didn't usually let as much of her humor come out with the group as she had tonight. She headed off to the mess to wash her glass before going to bed.
Janson watched her leave with a little bit of awe.
"Did that just happen? Did we just play sabacc with… the last Princess of Alderaan?"
Wedge corrected him. "No. What happened was, you got your ass handed to you in sabacc by the last Princess of Alderaan."