A heartfelt thanks to KnightedRogue, JustineGraham and ErinDarroch, my beta readers/midwives who helped birth this chapter, which is my take on a familiar trope - the time and wisdom that you shared with me are invaluable, and I hope your readers will forgive me for hogging your time, when it would have likely been better spent concocting your own new stories to delight us all.
"Nothing's gonna harm you
No sir, not while I'm around
Demons are prowling everywhere nowadays
I'll send them howling, I don't care, I've got ways
No one's gonna hurt you
No one's gonna dare
Others can desert you
Not to worry, whistle I'll be there…"
-Stephen Sondheim
Han knew it was going to be one of those days as he stood shivering in front of the engineering station in the main hold. Barely halfway to Bespin, the Falcon had sprung yet another in a string of surprises on its captive crew and passengers - this time, a critical failure in the environmental control system, which had plunged the ship's interior to near Hoth-level temperatures.
As Han shouted instructions to Chewie - armed with an array of tools to try whatever suggestions Han barked out - Leia supplied them with an endless stream of weak but steaming kaf to warm their shaking hands and clumsy fingers as they worked frantically to bring the system back online.
When at last the enviro system indicator light changed from its flashing urgent red to a calm steady green, they all breathed a collective but chilly sigh of relief. Not wanting to chance an overload of the newly repaired system, Han adjusted the settings for a slow ramp-up to normal conditions.
"Gonna be colder in here than a wampa's wang in winter for awhile," Han grumbled.
Chewie, smoothing down his thick pelt with pride, gave a shrug at Han's pronouncement but then looked over at Leia, who stood, swimming in the depths of Han's brown parka, which hung down below her knees.
Noting Chewie's concerned glance, Han smirked. "Don't worry, Sweetheart, I'll keep you warm enough tonight. Maybe even hot, and a little bothered too."
Looking at Chewie as she shook her head and rolled her eyes at Han's boast, Leia addressed the Wookiee. "Chewie, where do you keep the cold weather gear? Just in case my Corellian heat generator blows a fuse?"
As Chewie roared in laughter, he pointed a furry hand towards the forward hold. Between snorts of laughter, he tried to specify the exact location within the hold, but his chortling made it difficult for Leia to understand, even with her recent mastery of Shyriiwook basics over the past few weeks.
"Fuzzball, you better pull it together, 'cause I wanna check the rest of the main systems before we have another burnout. Gonna start with the sensor array system, so shimmy your furry butt up into that overhead circuitry compartment."
Turning to Leia, Han feigned hurt at her remark. "You wound me, Your Worship." With a nod towards the forward hold, he continued. "Gray metal bin on the top shelf. Yell if you need a hand, or anything else."
In answer, Leia raised an amused eyebrow at him before pulling the fur-trimmed hood of his coat up over her head and turning on her heels to make her way toward the forward hold.
Still chuckling to himself with an occasional guffaw, Chewie gathered the necessary tools into his leather pouch as Han settled at the engineering station to start the sensor calibration sequence.
Just as Chewie began to climb into the overhead circuitry compartment, a wail of surprise broke the relative quiet of the ship, followed by a loud crash and a muffled moan of pain. Han turned to lock eyes with his hairy co-pilot, who reflected back a look of concern upon realizing the only possible source of those sounds. Han bolted from his seat towards the forward hold with Chewie in close pursuit.
When they arrived at the entrance to the hold, they were met with the sight of Leia sprawled on the deck plates, trapped under a heavy metal cargo bin. "What the —" Han managed as Chewie rushed past him to lift the large bulky bin off Leia's legs.
"I climbed the access ladder to check through the highest bins and the top step snapped. I grabbed for the bin and must have pulled it down with me when I fell. At least I found the right bin," Leia quipped, as she struggled to sit up onto her elbows, looking around at the exploded bin's contents scattered about the deck plates.
Han mentally cursed himself at the sight of the busted access ladder. Neither he nor the towering Wookiee ever used it to access the upper storage area, so he'd had no idea the flimsy shape it was in. Is there anything on this ship that isn't falling apart?
Leia broke Han's irate thoughts with a gasp of mingled relief and advancing pain at the removal of the heavy metal bin from her legs. Kneeling beside her, Han closely examined her head and face, peering deeply into her eyes. "Don't move, Princess. You look a little dazed; you hit your head?"
"No, Hotshot, I'm just swooning because you're near," Leia jibed, rolling her eyes at him with an exasperated affection. Wincing, she added, "But my foot hurts like holy hells."
Han chuckled to himself, unaccustomed as he was to hearing her swear. He turned his attention to her leg while awaiting Chewie's return with the med kit and portable medscanner. Rolling up her loose pant leg (well, really his pant leg) to assess the damage as tenderly as possible, he saw Leia cringe as his fingers neared her ankle, which was beginning to swell.
"Doesn't seem like anything is broken, but let's get you scanned to make sure," Han muttered.
Luckily, the scan showed no signs of bone breaks or concussion, but Leia's ankle was badly sprained and a number of bruises were beginning to bloom on her legs. Will make a nice matching set, Han thought wryly, recalling the large but fading bruise on her back, the result of him tackling her to shield her from the icy debris of the collapsing corridor during their mad dash off Hoth. Really know how to show a lady a good time, don't you, Solo?
Woofing softly, Chewie gently prodded them off to bed for some much-needed rest and warmth: the precautionary systems checks could wait for the time being. "No argument there, pal. Come on, Princess, let's get you tucked in for the night."
Han slipped his arms underneath her knees and around her back, lifting her with ease as he took care not to jostle her injured leg. As he hugged her close for warmth, Leia wrapped her arms around his neck, her long single braid dangling against his arm as he walked them to his cabin. Nuzzling her face into the crook of his stubble-covered neck, she whispered "I think you're overreacting, Flyboy, but I'll indulge you if you plan to carry me around like this."
When they arrived at the door to the cabin, Leia playfully extended her uninjured foot to tap the hatch controls. The frigid air of the vacant room assaulted them as the door slid open. It would be unbearably cold in the cabin tonight, and the heating unit within the bunk would only do so much to keep them warm.
Han gently lowered Leia onto the bunk. As she shrugged off his parka and began to maneuver beneath the sheets, Han ducked into the fresher to retrieve pain meds and a tumbler of water for her.
"Back in a sec, Sweetheart," he assured her as he turned to leave the cabin.
Han hurried back to the forward hold to retrieve the blankets and other cold weather gear strewn across the floor from the toppled bin and gathered up as much as he could carry. As he headed to the door, his eyes landed on the culprit ladder, mocking him with the askew smirk of its broken top rung.
The frustration of the long day caught up with him as his quick temper flared. Arms full, Han strode over to the ladder and kicked it with his booted foot until the ladder was dislodged from the wall and lay mangled on the floor. Satisfied with his revenge on the traitorous ladder, he hurried on his way back to the cabin, detouring through the galley to grab his bottle of Whyren's.
Back in the cabin, Han was surprised to find Leia still awake, giving him a small smile as she clung to the covers around her. "Hurry up, Hotshot, it's freezing in here," she managed through chattering teeth.
He dropped the recovered contents of the bin to the floor and bent to sift through for the thickest covers he could find. As he spread the extra blankets over the bunk, tucking them around her, Han could see her eyes starting to grow soft as the strong pain meds began to take hold. He hoped she would be able to sleep tonight, knowing all too well how the cold could affect Leia. Han layered on one more cover as insurance against those terrifying specters that often crept in along with the chill of night.
Sitting on the edge of the bunk, he gazed down at her as he watched her eyes begin to flutter closed. "I'm getting to be a hazard for you, Sweetheart," he muttered, stroking a finger gently across her cold cheek. "Probably better off without me around," he whispered, bending to kiss her forehead as she finally surrendered to sleep.
He remained perched on the edge of the bunk, reaching down for the Whyren's and uncorking it for a short swig. As the fiery liquid burned a path down his throat, he turned back to look at Leia as she sank into stillness, watching her rosy lips part as her breaths fell into a slow measured pace.
Normally it calmed him to behold her rare moments of quiet. Tonight, his private watch over her did little to settle his nerves.
Han downed a second shot of whiskey to ward off the cold and the uneasiness he couldn't seem to shake, and then slipped off the bunk, wincing at the loud creak that threatened the quiet that had descended over the room. Shrugging off his jacket and shirt and stripping off his bloodstripes as quickly and quietly as he could, he looked around the cabin for something to sleep in. As of late, he'd had little reason to wear much of anything to bed, but with Leia injured and already asleep, and his own breath visible in the crystalline air, he would need something for the night.
Glancing down at the pile of cold weather gear at his feet, Han spotted a pair of long thermal underwear he had packed away recently, back when Tatooine had been the next intended stop after Hoth. That seemed like a lifetime ago - sometimes even felt like three lifetimes since then, or someone else's life altogether. Sliding the thermals on, he bent to grab the last of the blankets from the pile on the floor.
Han adjusted the cabin lights to the night setting and eased himself under the cover of the sheets, careful not to disturb the cocoon of blankets he had built around Leia. He arranged the last remaining blanket over himself, and as he lay shivering, he turned his head to ensure he hadn't wakened Leia with his jostling, but she seemed already deep in sleep and undisturbed by his presence.
The blanket and the whiskey combined to slowly ease his shaking. Han's eyes began to close at last. Before long, he had drifted off to join Leia in the cold dark of the night...
Leia sat tall, majestic, astride Han. Her legs parted wide to straddle his hips and her hands splayed across his chest to steady herself as she rode him with a wild abandon. Han was mesmerized by the hypnotic bounce of her breasts as the sensual undulation of her hips took command of him. He slid his palms from her thighs to a gentle hold on her waist. Under the spell of her possessing urgency, Han thrust his hips up in communion with hers, driving himself impossibly deeper between her trembling thighs. Leia let out a shuddering moan as she threw her head back, her long chestnut braid sinking like an anchored chain to sway teasingly between his thighs.
But her eyes flew open in confusion as a large gloved hand grabbed her braid. Her moan became a cry of pain as her head snapped back with a vicious yank to meet with the muzzle of a blaster poised at her temple.
"Get your fucking hands off her," Han growled with fatal intent, but he remained frozen in place, flat on his back and unable to move a muscle to wrestle her away from the armed assailant. Leia, eyes wide in fear and arms reaching frantically for Han, cried out to him in a desperate plea as she was dragged from his sight.
"Leia," he screamed with a hoarse desperation, "LEIA!"
"Time to pay up, Solo," the bounty hunter snarled, and with the sound of a single blaster shot, Leia's cries were silenced. Still lying frozen and helpless, Han flinched in horror as a severed braid landed squarely across his bare body.
"Maybe this will finally teach you, you lowlife scum."
Han jolted awake with a terrified shout, heart slamming at his ribs as panic spiked through him. He looked around the darkened blue glow of the cabin, unable to orient himself as the horror of the nightmare continued to squeeze his heart in a chaotic rhythm. When he realized his hands could move freely, they swept across his sweat-slicked face.
Panting, he strained to pull himself back to the edge of reality and drive those ugly echoes of Ord Mantell back into the dark corners of his mind. But as many times as he had tried to bury away what had happened there with the bounty hunter and what could have happened, he knew he'd never be able to erase the terrifying sight of Leia, caught in the crosshairs of his own past mistakes catching up with him on Ord Mantell.
As his eyes adjusted to the dim blue glow of the cabin's night lights, Han could just make out Leia's small shape next to him in the bunk, still bundled under the mound of bedclothes and curled up on her side with her back to him. Only her dark head was visible above the burrow of blankets, with the end of her long braid tickling the bare skin of his belly.
Han recoiled from the sight, as if the gloved hand from his fading nightmare had made one final grab for him. His panic began to mount as he watched the braid begin to move, slowly sliding away from him, until it dawned on him that he must have woken Leia. He felt her small weight shift gingerly in the bunk as she turned to him.
"Han, what is it?" her voice thick and slow with sleep. "Is something wrong? Did you call for me?"
He closed his eyes, trying to will his breathing to slow. "Everything's okay, Princess. Go back to sleep."
Wrestling to maneuver with her injured leg under the layers of blankets, she managed to turn to face him and prop herself up to get a closer look at him in the dim blue light.
"You're shaking. Are you shivering?"
She touched his bare chest, still heaving in rhythm with his rapid-fire heartbeat. Before she could inquire further, Han tucked her hand back beneath the blankets.
"Yeah, m' fine, Sweetheart. Just cold."
Leia reached up to switch on the overhead light within the bunk. He could see a look of alert concern had already swept the sleep from her eyes as she peered closely at him.
"Gonna take a shower to warm up," he said abruptly, throwing back the covers and swinging his legs over the side of the bunk to avoid her searching glance.
Sitting on the edge of the bunk, Han briefly rested his head in his hands before standing as he tried to catch his breath. He felt her small hand on his back like an unspoken question, and he muttered, "Sorry I woke you. Just go back to sleep."
He stood up and reached to turn the overhead bunk light off again, plunging the room back into the dark blue glow of the cabin's night setting. As he made his way to the fresher, Han heard her voice behind him, small and muffled by the alcove of the bunk.
"I'll keep the bunk warm for you, Hotshot."
As the door to the fresher slid open, spilling light into the cabin, he asked, without turning, "Need anything? Another pain med?"
"No, Han. Just you."
Huffing a quiet sigh and running his hand up the back of his neck, he offered no other response and instead headed into the fresher, closing the hatch behind him.
Han squinted in the bright light of the fresher as he activated the water stream, still trying to catch his breath as the water slowly warmed. He stripped off his thermal underwear and stepped into the shower. Bracing his fists against the wall, he hung his head under the spray of tepid water, willing it to wash away the vile residue of his nightmare.
It had been all too easy for him to ignore the harsher realities of his life lately. And even though he was stranded in the outer reaches of the Anoat system on an unpredictably temperamental ship, with the Empire waiting to pounce at every possible turn, it just hadn't seemed to matter. Han had never been happier in his life.
The past few weeks had been extraordinary, almost unbelievable. It still amazed him to find Leia awaiting him in his bunk at day's end, seeking his warmth, craving his touch, curling up close to his chest as she secretly mined the forgotten pieces of his heart to hoard away for herself. He had been consumed with fantasies about this, about her, about them, for so long that he still expected to wake up alone in his bunk, hard and hungry for her as the dream of her faded to black and slipped away once again.
A princess and a guy like me?
He remembered the first time he had joked about that very possibility. He had meant it as a jab at the overeager Luke, enthralled over the feisty princess en route to Yavin after their escape from the Death Star.
But as time passed, Han had found himself unable to extinguish the tiny but unwavering flame of that thought, even resorting to repeating it to himself as a warning of the sheer absurdity of the idea. And there was complete absurdity in the idea of a lovely princess and a roguish scheming outlaw finding love together, wasn't there? Hells, yes. That was the stuff of make-believe, of children's bedtime stories, up there with other ridiculous nonsense like the Force.
And Han had certainly come to know the Princess of Alderaan, as well as the Imperial Senator, the Alliance Commander, and even the Empire's Most Wanted, but he had also discovered the complex young woman who sat buried, usually unnoticed and overlooked, beneath this pile of titles. That woman, Leia, was the one he wanted.
And miraculously, she seemed to want him as well, although why exactly Han didn't think he would ever completely understand. She seemed to believe there was more to him than met the eye, that perhaps he was not quite the guy like me that everyone assumed him to be.
Was he? Was there something more to him? Leia seemed to think so...
So while the notion of a princess and a guy like me remained a ridiculous one, the idea of Leia and Han did not, finding fertile ground within him to take root.
But.
The closer they got to Bespin, the more his not-so-distant past and his almost-certain future started to crowd back into his near idyllic present, and tonight's nightmare was a harsh reminder.
It wasn't that Han hadn't taken his bounty seriously. His original rationalization for staying with the motley band of rebels was the easy opportunity for steady work, allowing him to save up the funds to pay back Jabba, along with the interest the greedy Hutt would insist upon. But as the Alliance coffers ran low while demand for supply runs skyrocketed, rather than cut their losses and move on to greener and more lucrative pastures, he and Chewie had nevertheless remained.
When pushed, Han had spouted any number of reasons to explain his sticking around. Some days it was because Chewie liked it there; on others, it was because the Alliance provided a good place to lay low until he could scrape together the necessary funds, or that the supply runs widened his own network of connections. But while all of these explanations rang some version of true, the one reason he never admitted aloud to anyone, not even himself, was his inability to leave Leia. And the more that fantasy of Leia and Han thrived in his heart, the more distant the whole Jabba mess had become in his mind.
Until recently. Until Ord Mantell.
Ord Mantell had been a serious reminder that Jabba's good graces - what few he possessed - had worn dangerously thin. The stakes were higher than ever: as high as Han's life and possibly now Leia's as well. And while Han had gotten used to ducking and diving around the fallout from his own devil-may-care decisions, he wouldn't stand by and watch anyone else bear the brunt of those consequences - least of all Leia.
He'd be damned if he'd be the source of any more pain for her. Leia had already suffered more unfathomable hurt in her very young life than most people did in a lifetime - hells, in a hundred lifetimes. His own lips and hands had taken quiet note of the scars that marred the smooth ivory of her tender skin: living testaments to her extraordinary selflessness in her crusade to save the galaxy, waged on the private battleground of her body. He scoffed when he thought of his own medal of honor that Leia herself had publicly bestowed on him, for little more than essentially saving his own hide, by his own estimation. He did, however, feel an inordinate amount of pride in the private acclaim Leia lavished on him when she draped her creamy thighs around his neck and sang out his name with breathless moans, as he tried single handedly to make up for the immense hurt the galaxy had inflicted upon her.
Why, in all of the nine hells of Corellia, did you not leave when you had the chance? After returning to Hoth in the wake of the Ord Mantell encounter, he should have dropped off the princess, kept the engines hot, and set a course straight for Tatooine. He had tried to leave then, but fate, life, bad luck, whatever one chose to call it, had intervened.
Just had to get something started with her now, didn't you, Slick? What the fuck were you thinking? Glancing down at himself, he knew that thinking had had very little to do with his decision. But while it would be easy to fault his cock, which had always voted enthusiastically and frequently in favor of staying, he knew that his heart was likely the more culpable body part in this case. Cursing himself, he curled his hands into tight fists and slammed them against the shower wall with an enraged grunt.
So what the fuck to do now? He had already spent many an hour in the cockpit, alone, surrounded by the vastness of space, triangulating this problem over and over like a lightspeed calculation he could solve in some logical fashion. But so far a good solution - one where he and Leia remained alive and together - eluded his grasp. He continued to shift around the variables, but the one constant in this equation was that he had to keep Leia safe. Which always added up to leaving in order to protect her.
But after three long years spent convincing her that he could be trusted with the proper care and handling of her heart, how could he turn around and say Sorry Sweetheart, 's been great but gotta go? Which was the better ante? Gamble with her life or her heart? The image of Leia's braid lying limp and lifeless across his useless body flashed through his mind, and he shuddered as fingers of cold fear gripped his spine again.
Han continued to stand under the spray of grayish water until his stark fear began to diminish, but an uneasy despair took its place as the water ran cold. Slamming his hand on the water controls, he listened momentarily as the abrupt quiet assailed him, but it only magnified the cacophony building within him like an echo chamber. He stepped out of the shower to towel off in the frigid air as he tried to shake himself free from the distress that seemed hellbent on claiming him tonight.
As Han rubbed the towel over his head, he spotted his sleep pants and shirt crumpled in a corner on the floor. They had been abandoned there weeks ago when Leia, with eager hands and an offer to scrub his back and any other hard-to-reach places, had stripped him bare, in every sense of the word.
Snatching up the sleep clothes and pulling them on to preserve the fading warmth of the shower, Han switched off the fresher light before opening the hatch to the cabin, hoping that Leia had fallen back asleep.
As the hatch to the cabin slid open, he noticed that the cabin lights had been turned up again, and he could see Leia watching him, her dark eyes shining at him with a poorly masked look of concern. "Feel better now?" she inquired.
"Yeah," he lied. "What're you doing up, Sweetheart? Ankle bothering you? You need more pain meds?"
"No, it's fine, just hurry and get back in bed," she insisted.
"Maybe I should go sleep in the med bunk. Give you more room," Han proposed, dragging a hand through his damp hair.
"You'll do no such thing. I need that famous hot Corellian blood of yours to keep me warm."
"How 'bout I just get you another blanket?" he offered, hoping she might let him escape to the solitude of the cockpit to try to clear the aching mess in his head.
"Captain, get in this bunk. That is an order! And hurry up, before you get cold again." Throwing back the sheets and blankets, Leia began to scoot to the bulkhead to make room for him in the cramped bunk.
With no easy recourse, Han adjusted the cabin lights back to the dark glow of the night setting and climbed into the bunk, settling onto his back near the edge as Leia arranged the multitude of blankets over them both. After getting them both tucked in, she remained on her side, propping herself on her elbow to face him.
Han could almost hear the thoughts buzzing in her head but was surprised when no questions came from her. He turned towards her, stretching to give a hasty kiss to her forehead and mumble a quick "night, Leia," before turning onto his side with his back to her.
When Han had finally settled on his side, he felt Leia slip closer to press the soft warmth of her body to his back, wrapping her arm around his torso under the sheets, her lips near his ear. "Han, what's wrong? Is everything okay?"
"Sure, doesn't everything seem okay to you?" he muttered half-heartedly into the pillow. "Just really beat, Leia. Been a helluva day and wanna get some sleep."
"You don't seem like your usual charming self tonight. Are you worried about the Falcon? You know this rust bucket will come through. She always does."
His heart clenched at her defense of his beloved but misfit ship. Leia clearly knew something was bothering him and was trying to make him feel better if she was complimenting the Falcon.
After a long pause, he finally admitted, " 's not the Falcon I'm worried about."
"Then what are you...me? I'm fine, Han, it's just a sprain and a few bruises. It'll all be fine in a few days."
Turning back around to face her at last, Han was grateful for the cover of the dark to hide the cracks that surely threatened his well-honed Sabacc face. "Not so sure 'bout that, Leia. I…" he broke off. Trying to swallow the knot of fear that had lodged in his throat, he continued. "I just don't want to hurt you, Sweetheart. Ever."
Han felt her fingers slide tenderly into his hair, stroking his head as she whispered "Amant, what is it? This is more than me hurting my foot, isn't it?"
At the sound of the Corellian endearment - Sweetheart -, Han felt something inside him crack. The torrent of worry and despair he had been holding back began to seep through his crumbling defenses.
But he couldn't bring himself to tell her about his nightmare. That would lead to the inevitable discussion about him leaving. Han knew that conversation was coming sooner rather than later, as they slowly but inevitably made their way closer to Bespin and to what lay beyond. The looming idea of what happens next already hovered, trapped in the stale recycled air of the Falcon. He knew Leia thought about it, likely as much as he did, sensing it in her unsettled mood at times. But their unspoken pact to preserve the hard-fought sense of joy and discovery between them for as long as possible had kept that particular conversation at bay so far.
Han reached over to stroke his thumb across her cheek in response to her query, unwilling to give a voice to his fears - as if keeping them confined to his head would keep them unrealized.
Without a word, Leia wrapped her slender fingers around his and gently pulled his hand away from her cheek. She turned from her side onto her back and scooted up towards the head of the bunk, switching on the dim overhead bunk light. Opening her arms to him, she patted her hand over her heart in invitation.
Unable to resist his overwhelming need for her comfort any longer, Han moved to settle his aching head on her chest, draping his body close beside hers but careful of placing the entirety of his weight on her. This position had become a familiar one, although it was usually Han cradling Leia's tear-streaked face on his bare chest after she awoke, distraught in the night.
As Han nestled closer to her, she went to fold her arms around him when she gave a small exasperated sigh. Reaching behind her head, Leia pulled out her braid that had become trapped under their entwined bodies, running it down over her shoulder and along the side of her torso. As they settled into a comfortable position, Leia pulled the blankets up over Han's back and resumed the delicate weaving of her fingers through the damp strands of his hair, dropping intermittent kisses onto the top of his head.
Han began to calm with the reassuring rhythm of her heart and reached a tentative hand for her braid, running his fingertips along the silky grooves of its long length.
"Your hair... so beautiful, Sweetheart," came his hoarse whisper.
Han curled his fingers around the end of her braid and began to coil the braid's length loosely around his hand, as if wrapping an injured hand. He was struck by the strength inherent in her thick plait, knowing how soft and fine her hair felt when it tumbled down on him when she let him unravel it.
He had seen the time she devoted every day to her hair and had wondered more than once why such a practically-minded person would maintain such an impracticality in the midst of a chaotic existence.
Han let his thoughts tumble out. "Have always wondered why you keep it though. Isn't your hair just a big nuisance for you?"
After a little huffing laugh followed by a long pause, Leia started to explain. "When I was younger, I did hate it. It was always in my way and never behaved as it was supposed to. Someone was always fussing over it, pulling and twisting and pinning. I threatened to cut it off so many times and be done with it."
Leia's voice softened. "But my mother loved it - the 'Queen's Pride', she called it. She once threatened to issue a royal decree to forbid my cutting it."
Tightening his grip on her braid, Han brought it to his lips for a reverent kiss. It was her one remaining artifact from the history of her very few years, a beautiful but fragile tether to her erstwhile life. Unfortunately he knew, had seen, how it could also alter her future as well.
"But it makes you so recognizable, Sweetheart. Might as well paint a target on your back - could even get you killed one day. Is it worth your life?"
Leia hesitated, as if deliberating. "Mama would often braid my hair, and it was she who showed me how to wrap the braids. My 'training crown', she called it when I was little. When I was older, and less enamored with my hair, she gently reminded me that it was good practice for a future queen to get accustomed to carrying the burdens of her people on her head.
"Even with all her important duties to attend to each day, Mama always made time to help me with my hair. She was the only one who could wrap my braids so they stayed in place no matter what I was doing but were still comfortable enough for me to bear on long days. I still can't do as good a job as Mama did, even though I watched her countless times...I wouldn't dream of cutting it off now. I just, couldn't…"
Her voice trailed off for a moment, but then she reached down to his whiskered chin, brushing her thumb over his scar. She placed her finger under his chin to gently tip his face up.
Leia waited until Han hesitantly dragged his eyes up to meet hers. "Some things are just worth the effort and the risk, Han, worth fighting for to keep in your life. No matter what kind of nuisance or how difficult sometimes they may be."
Then with a small smile and eyes shining at him, she added, "Besides, my hair does come in handy at times. It kept my ears warm on Hoth, and looks like I will need it now on this ice cube you call a ship."
He sputtered a choked laugh at last and saw her smile dimple in response to his laugh.
"I'll be ok, Han. We'll be ok," she whispered.
Han stared at her dark, hopeful eyes in awe, as both the crux of his problem and the answer to it crystallized within them. Gods, but he loved her; he could finally admit that to himself without a shudder of doubt or hesitation. He loved her and every fierce, beautiful part of her: her fire and ice, her naive zealotry and age-old wisdom, her dedication to peace and rallying cry in battle, her girlish innocence and killer's instinct, her sweet lips and sharp tongue. How had he ever thought he could leave her? Leia, a princess who had nothing, was offering him everything. How could he say no to the offer of a lifetime, or rather, the offer for a lifetime?
Han slipped his arms easily around her small frame, tightening his hold on her. Couldn't they just stay here in this cramped mess of a cabin, locked away from the galaxy? Throw the princess and the guy like me out the airlock to distract their band of pursuers and let Leia and Han fly far away, beyond the realm of more pain and suffering?
We'll be ok, she'd assured him. Leia seemed sure of this possibility, as sure as she was of her ability to topple the rule of the Empire. Han didn't have any idea how she could be so sure of either of these, but then many unthinkable things somehow always seemed possible with her, or so he had come to discover.
Pulling her even closer, as if he could somehow weld them together in an unbreakable bond, Han began to roll them onto their side when Leia let out a little yelp. He loosened his embrace and pulled back a bit to peer at her. "Sorry, beautiful. You got me carried away, as usual. Ankle still throbbing? I'd better take another look at it."
Han rolled away from her to the edge of the bunk, propping himself on his side and leaning on one arm to watch as Leia wiggled herself closer to the head of the bunk and threw back the covers to expose her legs.
When she looked at him with an expectant gaze, Han splayed his free hand over her belly and stretched to give her a tender kiss. He was happy to find her lips and body warm, now that she was no longer protected by the mound of blankets. He continued to rain light kisses down on her, soon finding himself unable to pull his attention away from the comfort of her soft lips, and his hand began to roam absentmindedly over her loose shirt to ensure her warmth, as he waded further into the beckoning depths of the solace he so often found in her.
When his hand mindlessly grazed her breast, Han felt her nipple harden in response to his touch. A low growl escaped him when his thumb brushed back over her nipple in a delicate reconnaissance, igniting his own arousal. His hand slipped down to slide under the hem of her shirt, making way for his mouth to claim the irresistible peaks of her breasts visible under the loose fabric. His fingertips moved with clear sensual intent, teasing along the waistband of her pants as they amassed like ready soldiers awaiting orders. When his lips followed the urgent southward trail blazed by his hand and lingered on the pale skin of her exposed belly, he felt a hand slide in his hair.
"Han?" He glanced up at her to find her face with a telltale flush rising in her cheeks but still mocking him with a raised eyebrow. "I thought you were going to look at my ankle?"
Ablaze with the dual heats of his love and lust for her, Han whispered back, "I'm gonna kiss it and make it all better, Your Worship". He hooked his fingers into the waist of her pants and slipped them gently down her legs.
As he buried his nose into the soft riot of curls between her legs with a heated sigh, she breathed back in a shaky tone, "Han, how is this going to help my ankle?"
Leia gasped when he responded with the insistent tip of his tongue. As her gasp gave way to a low moan, Han looked up at her and smirked.
"Old Corellian remedy, Sweetheart", he said, tenderly coaxing her thighs apart, and with a wink, Han bowed his head, determined to honor his promise to keep her warm.