a/n: i had to go digging through the nine circles of my hell blog for the rough draft of this i wrote - one more left, after!*
Outtake 4: Leia, Rouge, and Winter; Warning Rouge of Han's return.
Reference: Identity, Chapter Twenty-Two (22)
It was with determination and a healthy amount of reliance on her classical aristocratic training that Leia set out to acclimate her Aunt Rouge to the idea of Han's impending return. The amount of preparation she put into the little conversation made it seem like she was preparing for some sort of grueling negotiation, an invasion even – but all she was really doing was asking her persnickety, old-fashioned aunt to try and adjust to the idea of the wayward Corellian.
Naturally, she enlisted Winter's help.
The three women sat in the sunny day room of the Embassy residence, late in the afternoon. Bail was across planet with Rieekan, occupied for the entire day – and probably the night, as well – and Han was slated to return the next day, assuming there were no glitches in hyperspace that delayed the inevitable.
Rouge nursed her therapeutic tea, holding it to her lips with a somewhat beady-eyed look of suspicion turned on the girls, snug in fine peach-coloured robes and an embroidered scarf.
"Yes," Leia was saying calmly, "he is, in fact, coming back," she repeated – in response to Rouge's absurdly startled 'He hasn't left for good?'
Rouge looked at them over the rim of her teacup.
"I thought for sure your father had scared him off," she said wryly.
Leia arched a brow a little coolly.
Winter tilted her head.
"You thought Pasha had scared off an ex-Imperial officer, ex-street-criminal, ex-drug runner, six meter Corellian smuggler?" she asked innocently.
Rouge gave her a withering look, and Winter returned a look of pure uncertainty.
"Really, Aunt Rouge – you thought that? You thought a man who had been in an actual prison three times was frightened by – "
Leia lifted her hand slightly, holding up two fingers.
"Two times," she corrected quietly.
Winter turned her head, feigning confusion.
"Two?"
"Only two."
"Ah, two," Winter started to correct, with a wicked grin –
Rouge set her teacup down delicately – but commandingly, at the same time.
"That's quite enough, young lady," she said, narrowing her eyes. "You've made your point."
"It's much more likely that you frightened him off," Winter said conspiratorially.
Rouge folded her arms.
"What is the overarching point of this little parley?" she asked stiffly. She looked at Leia. "Am I being asked to behave myself for General Solo?" she prompted. "I assure you, I am not the one in need of an etiquette lesson."
Leia smiled a little, and sat forward. She placed her hands on the table openly, pushing aside her own tea just a little.
"Aunt Rouge, I'm making an effort not to spring him on you and Father again," she said sincerely. "I've already made Father aware of when he intends to be back, and now I'm doing you that courtesy. I understand he's a shock, and you've both had difficult adjusting," she paused, "but Father has agreed to be cordial and give Han the benefit of the doubt, on my word, and I'd like you to do the same."
Rouge eyed her shortly – she had barely had any interaction with the man in the first place, beyond watching the horrifying display at the public press conference, and then keeping up with the affair via media speculation and gossip.
Bail had made several remarks over the past few days that indicated he had decided they should be more receptive to Han – Well, Leia's given me a convincing argument, Ro, if she loves him, we'll make do – but Rouge had heard none of the personal outpourings, and even then, she was not a woman to believe love was the be-all end-all of things.
Leia tilted her head, and smiled a little.
"I've asked Han to behave himself and he's agreed to be polite," she said, pausing wryly, "though I do need to warn you, Han's idea of being polite is saying 'damn' instead of – "
Leia casually demonstrated a stream of colourful, soldier-like swearing that left her Aunt staring at her with wide-shocked eyes, and half a mind to reach across the table and smack her in the mouth.
Winter arched her brows, otherwise expressionless, while Rouge moved her lips soundlessly, glaring at Leia.
"I suppose," she said icily, finally regaining herself, "you learned that unrepentant filth from him?"
Leia did not bat an eyelash.
"Hardly," she denied simply – offering no explanation.
Rouge struggled enough with the fact that not all members of society were refined; it would likely break her heart to hear that Leia had learned such unrepentant filth, as she called it, from none other than Breha Organa, for the Queen stubbing her toe had been a fearsome thing.
Leia remembered sitting on a stool, agape in shock, when her mother whirled around, remembered she was sitting there, and crouched down to kiss her nose with a wink, and a quiet plea – don't tell your Papa.
Smiling at the memory, Leia leaned forward, resting her weight on her forearms a little.
"He's going to be around, Aunt Rouge," she said softly. "Is that so difficult to bear?"
Her aunt sighed, turning her head, presenting them with a regal profile.
"Well, I suppose in all honesty, I hardly know the man to judge him," she mused.
Winter shared a look with Leia – that was generally positive. Rouge reached for her teacup, stirring it a bit, looking down into it, and taking a few contemplative sips. She put it down and sighed, drumming her fingers on the table.
"It's his overall background that bothers you, isn't it?" Leia ventured. "Tell me what the worst part about him is in your opinion, Aunt Rouge, and I'll try to give you something to counter it," she bargained.
Rouge fluttered her hands around, exasperated.
"Well, he's just, flustering, Leia, he flusters me," she burst out.
Leia blinked slowly, trying hard not to shoot another look at Winter beside her. Winter leaned back and touched her cheek thoughtfully, staring at Rouge intently.
"I suppose fluster is a progression from…indignant outrage," Leia remarked.
Rouge sighed, waving her hands some more.
"He's just very – brash, and his manners are – unrefined – you know," Rouge went on, her expression pinched. "I'm used to court manners and very controlled politesse and General Solo, he's just very … manly."
Leia bit the inside of her cheek as hard as humanly possible to keep herself from bursting into an incredulous grin.
"Pardon me, ah, Rouge," Winter said, her features schooled. "Are you – it seems you have a very angry crush on him," she analyzed, with the air of a wise old professor talking to a young prodigy.
"I have no such thing," Rouge responded regally, setting her shoulders back loftily. "I'm simply pointing out that he's overbearing and, aggressive, and he seems like," she sighed; Solo was nothing like the fine, fluffy gentlemen of her aristocratic youth, "a lot of man to handle at once."
Winter turned her head, shielding her eyes with her hand, and caught Leia's eye – did Rouge even realize how she sounded? Leia twitched her lashes to acknowledge Winter's gleeful side-eye, and cleared her throat.
"Well, I assure you, I can handle him," she said, "and I would appreciate your efforts to be conciliatory towards him."
Rouge sighed, a troubled expression on her face, and touched her forehead delicately.
"He's just so…big."
Leia opened her mouth slightly, hesitating. Winter turned her head back to Rouge, her hand falling from her face in disbelief.
"Rouge," she hissed, speaking through gritted teeth to hold back a burst of laughter. "What the hell are you talking about?"
Rouge blinked, her eyes wide.
Leia leaned back a little, arching a brow.
"Well, I," Rouge started, and then flushed slightly, mustering a mortified scowl. "I meant he's very tall – girls, GIRLS!" she shrieked, as Winter nearly dissolved into hysterics.
Rouge's nostrils flared as she scrambled to be articulate.
"You two – you little blue-minded – I wasn't being vulgar – you're letting your imaginations run absolutely out of control – "
"Imagination?" Winter quipped. She gestured lazily at Leia. "I think she's probably seen it."
Rouge gave a little scandalized squeak, and Winter threw a smug look at Leia.
"She's clearly dying to know, Leia, is he big?"
Leia's lips twitched slightly, and Rouge smacked her hand on the table.
"I will speak to your father about this!" she railed.
"Don't go to Pasha," Winter gasped, leaning forward in amusement, "Rouge, you'll kill him," she laughed. "What are you going to say? 'Bail,'" Winter mimicked Rouge, "'I'm quite concerned Leia's paramour has a big – "
Leia inclined her head seriously, reaching over with one hand to press her palm over Winter's lips demurely.
"Yes, Aunt Rouge, I'd really appreciate if you refrained from talking to Father about Han's manhood," she requested diplomatically.
Rouge stood up from the table and turned in a huff, her blush spreading down her neck, and Leia shared a glance with Winter, lowering her hand from her friends' lips – Winter raised her eyebrows, and Leia leaned over to grab her hand, stifling laughter.
She missed her other aunts for a moment, Celly and Tia – she imagined Tia's reaction, refusing to acknowledge that the conversation had just happened at all, and Celly – Celly would probably have some solemn story about how even thinking about a man's – she'd come up with an awful euphemism – was a stain on Leia's purity, and would likely result in blindness.
"Drink your tea, Rouge," Winter said gently, fanning herself teasingly.
Rouge scowled, her face red, and did so. She considered the cooling liquid for a long time after, and then cleared her throat, speaking as she placed it down on the saucer.
"He's just – hardly what I would have imagined for you, Leia," she said bluntly, the click of porcelain against porcelain punctuating her words.
She bowed her head a moment.
"You're the pride of House Organa," she said, almost wistfully – as if she perhaps weren't anymore, with Han in the picture.
Leia ignored it, for the time being; she could hope, for now, that it was just because Rouge didn't know Han yet.
Her aunt looked up, perturbed.
"Does he pull your seat out for you?" she asked.
Winter sighed, a sort of exasperated sigh – as if that mattered at all – but Leia tried to see the deeper meaning in what Rouge was asking. The same thing Bail had asked, essentially – is he good, does he respect you, and does he love you? Leia chose not to tell Rouge that in the mess hall on Hoth, Han had once deliberately loosened the legs of her favorite stool so it fell out from under her halfway through her meal and deposited her on the icy floor.
She cleared her throat.
"You want some sort of story that implies Han can be the gentleman you envisioned for me?" Leia asked perceptively.
Rouge gave a short sigh.
"I doubt there is such a thing."
Leia leaned back in her seat. She picked up her teacup, took a long sip of it while she thought about what she was going to say –after all, most of this openness about her relationship was new to her; she was so good at playing it close to the vest, and keeping her treasures to herself.
Leia set her tea back down, and folded her arms, pressing her fingertips into her own elbows. She sighed quietly.
"A little over a year ago, Han thought I was in love with someone else," she said simply. "He thought I had fallen out of love with him while he was in carbonite, and that everything he'd done, for me, in the three previous years, would be futile," she explained. "And do you know how he reacted?"
Rouge looked at her patiently – and Winter did, too, because she hadn't heard this.
"He told me he wouldn't get in the way."
Leia tilted her head.
"Do you understand what that means, Aunt Rouge?"
"He had no intention of fighting for you?" she murmured, skeptical.
Leia smiled a little wryly.
"He had no intention of fighting over me," she corrected, "if it meant I would ultimately just be happy. He wanted me to be happy more than he wanted me to be his."
Rouge seemed to resist, yet blinked curiously.
"Who did he think you were in love with?" she asked, with an air that implied she wanted to know if Leia had a more appropriate suitor lurking somewhere.
Leia blinked guardedly.
"That's irrelevent," she said, deadpan - well, she hoped that story never came up again.
Leia sighed after a moment, and leaned forward, holding a hand out.
"He also," she said, very quietly, "could not possibly have cared less about Darth Vader."
Leia licked her lips.
"If it wasn't enough that he just didn't give a damn about it, I was railing about Luke's attitude about Anakin Skywalker once, and I said something about Vader being my father, and Han barely even missed a beat – he said: 'What? You were adopted, no he wasn't. Vader wasn't your dad.'"
Leia shook her head in wonder.
"He didn't think about saying that, Rouge. He just said it. He believed it."
Rouge considered Leia for a long time, and after a moment, a quiet smile touched her lips – she was, truly, easily softened by anyone and anything that reinforced the idea that Leia was wholly theirs, the Organas. They were all fiercely adamant about it, and Han's opinion there would speak well.
"Well," Rouge began, after a long silence. "I'll put my best food forward, darling," she promised, lifting her teacup. She gave Winter, and then Leia, a very sharp, matronly look – "But he best endeavor to impress me."
Leia leaned back, brushing her lips with her fingers – and she sensed it wasn't snobbery, in Rouge's last little threat, but a very genuine concern for Leia's heart, and happiness.
*yes, it's Leia meeting Chewie's family next
-alexandra