Soooo…in interest of participating in @hanleiacelebration’s Han/Leia Appreciation week, I’m posting a WIP snippet that technically fits yesterday’s prompt (AU/Canon divergence). Y’all have seen some of this before, but not all of it. It’s the first chunk of that AU I’m planning on finishing after Purpose of Heritage wraps that is tentatively titled Dameron and Solo. And, like, yes, the story overall is meant to be about the boys, but it’s all very entwined with Han and Leia, and this first bit most definitely is more about them.
Anyway, enjoy this 1600-word preview I guess? Haha…I am sticking it below the cut because…1600 words.
Han Solo was hardly surprised to see the living room light on when he finally arrived home after a long, rough flight. It wasn’t uncommon for Leia to wait up for him when she knew he was on his way, working on something she considered mindless, a holodrama on in the background. Sometimes she fell asleep on the couch before he walked through the door, and he’d attempt to wake her gently before leading her back to their room.
Leia wasn’t on the couch, or even in the living room at all. Instead, Ben lay curled up in an armchair, fast asleep, a datapad on the floor next to the chair.
This was…odd, and Han was immediately concerned. Ben was only five; his bedtime should have been hours before. The only time he was ever out of bed this late was when he was sick, but if he was sick enough to be out of bed, Leia rarely went far.
Maybe she ran to the ‘fresher and he fell asleep, Han thought. He dropped his bag and listened for Ben’s quiet breathing before pressing a quick, light kiss to the top of his head that wasn’t likely to wake him, and going in search of Leia.
Their bedroom door was nearly closed, the crack between door and frame likely left more for Han’s benefit than hers or Ben’s. If Ben had needed her, Leia would have been able to feel it through their connection in the Force; she wouldn’t need the door open. She said she tried to keep out of his head, but if he was upset or in need of something, it was like being shouted at. There were times when Han felt somewhat left out of the family Force connection that Leia shared with both Ben and Luke, but knowing he was safe from inescapable mental screaming was some comfort.
He could hear her voice, muffled, tired, and flat beyond the door. She sounded like she was on her comm — Han couldn’t hear anyone else’s voice — and her answers to the other person’s questions were clipped, weary, and flat. “Yes…No, a week at least…No…No…I’m not sure. No one’s sure…”
Before Han could knock or find some other way to let Leia know he was there, she yanked the door open and looked him in the eye. She looked pale, worried. Han’s stomach twisted as he wondered what had her in a such a state. She still wore the earpiece that connected to her comm, but reached out and tugged on Han’s wrist, pulling him into the room and shutting the door behind him.
“Yes, I’m aware, Mon…No, I’ll have more answers in a few days.”
Leia folded a tunic and added it to a neat stack of clothing in their largest suitcase, the one they used for family holidays. Han saw a shorter stack of Ben’s clothing, his sandals, and a pair of his boots piled next to Leia’s clothing in the case.
Are they…Where are they going?
It took a moment for Han to realize she had a pair of his own boots shoved in the case as well. With that information in mind, he corrected his thought.
Where are we going?
He looked at his wife. Leia was dressed in simple loungewear — clothing she never wore outside of the apartment, and never in front of anyone who wasn’t family or close to it. Her hair was half-down, but not in a way that appeared purposeful; it looked more like she had been in the middle of transitioning from whatever style she’d had it in all day to a loose sleeping braid and was interrupted.
Leia ended the comm with Mon Mothma and dropped her earpiece on the bed before looking at Han. “Shara died,” she said matter-of-factly.
Another twist in his stomach. Shara Bey, a friend of theirs from the Alliance, was only a few years older than Leia. She couldn’t be dead. She was too young. They had won the war. She and her husband, Kes Dameron, had settled down on Yavin IV with their kid Poe. He was only a few years older than Ben. He was too young to lose his mother.
Han sank down slowly on their bed, eyes zeroed in on Leia. Shara and Leia had been close during the war. The cool detachment he saw in his wife’s demeanor didn’t match the reality of the words she had spoken.
“How?” he finally asked.
“Bloodburn,” Leia said softly.
“Bloodburn?” Han shook his head. Bloodburn was a complication developed seemingly at random in some humans who spent a lot of time in space. Pilots were particularly susceptible because they tended to fly more often than passengers. It could be managed if caught early, but cases of the illness going unnoticed until it was terminal weren’t uncommon. Shara must have been one of those cases. Though, why she hadn’t told Leia that she was sick, Han couldn’t begin to guess. That was the sort of thing they seemed to share with one another.
Leia continued stacking folded clothing into the suitcase. “Kes—I told Kes we’d head out there as soon as you got home. He needs help with arrangements and…” She trailed off, freezing in place for a moment before focusing her eyes back on Han. She stepped toward him and wrapped her arms gently around his neck. “I’m sorry. I didn’t ask: how was your flight? Did you get any rest? I can fly if you need to sleep.”
“‘m awake enough to get us into a hyperspace lane, Princess,” he murmured, placing his hands on her waist. “Just can’t believe…How long did she have it?”
Leia shook her head mechanically, eyes clouding over. “They don’t know. If—If she knew, she didn’t tell anyone. She just…” Han felt her fingers stroke the nape of his neck absently. “Poe found her, Han,” she whispered.
Han swallowed hard, horror seeping under his skin. He had been younger than Ben when his own mother had died. His memories of trying to wake her were vivid, but a lot of other memories surrounding that time were mercifully spotty. Poe was eight; he would remember a lot more, likely for the rest of his life.
Han tugged Leia closer, intending to pull her down into his lap so he could hold her, anchor himself to her, but she resisted. She kissed his forehead for a long moment before turning her head, pressing her cheek to his skin. “I need to finish packing.”
“What can I do?”
Leia thought for a moment. “How are rations on the Falcon?”
Rations, Han thought with mild amusement. Like they were back in the war. “Need to restock if all three of us are goin’.”
“I just went to the market today,” Leia said. “If you could throw together food for the trip, get Ben tucked into his bunk on board, and start preflight checks, I’ll finish up here. That way we can leave soon. Do you need anything packed?”
Han shook his head and stood. “Ran my clothes through the autovalet on my trip back,” he said. “So my bag’s ready to go.”
Leia nodded and pulled a tunic from their closet. Han watched as she folded the top carefully, her expression solemn and determined. She was, he knew from over a decade of experience, focusing on the next thing rather than acknowledging whatever emotions were fighting to surface.
He stopped her on her way to their ‘fresher, placing gentle hands on her upper arms and meeting her gaze. After a moment of stubborn stoicism, a flicker of grief and sorrow passed over her face and Han pulled her into his arms. She pressed her face to his chest, muffling the couple of sobs that escaped before she was able to take a deep breath and pull herself back together.
She turned her face, cheek pressed to Han’s shirt as she took a few more deep breaths. “I can’t keep an eye on Ben without him feeling what I’m feeling right now,” she said softly.
She meant keeping her Force connection with their son open, something she said she only did when a good reason presented itself. Leia had learned to shield herself before she even knew her lineage included Force users, before she really knew what she was doing. The skill had served her well on the Death Star and possibly even before. Once she knew how to fully control it, she said she maintained her shield unless there was a reason not to; something about maintaining privacy between other Force users that Han couldn’t say he fully understood, but he did support.
“He’s asleep,” Han said, tightening his hold on her.
“I know, but I think I infected his dreams earlier. I checked on him after Kes commed and he woke up…” She trailed off. “He wasn’t scared; he was…worried. Tried to comfort me. I don’t want my child to feel like he needs to bear that sort of burden.”
Han didn’t love the use of the word burden when it came to her emotions; Leia chose her words carefully, and she generally meant exactly what she said. He understood her concerns about Ben, though, and figured a discussion about semantics could happen some other time.
“You gonna let me?” he asked. That was the real question, anyway. Leia could consider her emotional state a burden all she wanted as long as Han was allowed to share it.
She was still for a moment before sniffing and nodding, her cheek never leaving his chest. “Yes. But we need to get going before I think about it too much.“
Harrison watched his wife sleep. Her hair was splayed across her pillow and her eyes fluttered slightly as he brushed his fingertips across her cheek. “Mmm what’re you doing,” she muttered, turning her face into the pillow.
“Good morning, beautiful,” he cooed. “Happy birthday.”
She turned away from the pillow and beamed up at him. “Thank you, baby.” She sat up and leaned in to kiss him. “I think I’m officially old as fuck.”
“Watch it, there, Fisher. If you’re old as fuck, what does that make me?”
She kissed the top of his nose. “It makes you OLDER than fuck.”
Harrison snorted and kissed her. “Careful there… don’t piss off the older than fuck guy who knows what your present is.” After her 60th, she’d made him promise not to get her gifts, but he couldn’t resist. They’d settled on experiences as presents - going places and doing things together, with and without their girls. She’d read somewhere that experiences made people happier than things, and he believed it.
Carrie nuzzled her face into the nape of his neck and he couldn’t resist kissing the top of her head. “Let’s see if I can guess…”
“Good luck, sweetheart.” He wiggled his eyebrows and grinned. “You’re not gonna get this one.”
She sat up, pulling the blanket around her shoulders as a draft blew through the open window. “Is it somewhere warmer than her?”
Harrison laughed and pulled the blanket up to her chin. “A little… sometimes… in the spring and the summer…”
“Can you at lease tell me… does it start with the letter A?” Harrison shook his head, his gray hair getting tossled in the process. “The letter B?”
“Dammit… I know I should have picked a place later in the alphabet.”
Carrie laughed and it melted Harrison’s heart. “I got it… I got it.” Her face was suddenly serious. “I think I know.”
He cocked his head to the side. “Where?”
She looked at him, her face somber. “Bosnia.”
Now it was Harrison’s turn to laugh that big belly laugh that made him throw back his head and nearly close his eyes. She was the only one who could make him laugh that way. “The fuck? Bosnia?”
Carrie shrugged. “It’s a place… that starts with a B… and is warm in the spring and summer…”
Harrison shook his head and wrapped his arms around her. “Where have you always wanted to go? Somewhere that starts with a B… and is romantic… and beautiful… and warm…” He punctuated each sentence with a kiss on her temple.
She looked at him, eyes wide. “Oh my god. You didn’t.”
He grinned, seeming to read his mind. “Bora Bora baby!”
“FUCK! Holy shit… holy shit… the kids?”
Harrison shook his head. “No kids, just us.” He squeezed her tight. “Just you and me. We leave tomorrow.”
Carrie laughed. “Right, tomorrow… because the trailer comes out tonight.”
Harrison giggled. “Just Han and Leia, then you and me.”
Since I'm a big fan of weddings, of course I spent a lot of time thinking about what would Han and Leia's wedding be like.
As a passionate royal watcher and a big lover of Hungarian traditions, I just had to mash up aspects of these. This also means that I was able to combine today's two promts.
That tiara is the Cartier Halo Tiara, my absolute favourite. I just love to imagine that Han gets made a replica of Leia's birthday tiara given by her parents after hearing the tradition that Alderaanian royal brides wore a tiara from their family.
And yes, I'm a basic girlie, and my favourite wedding dress is Carherine Middleton's, but hey, own it! I feel like it's regal enough for the last Princess of Alderaan at her wedding that is the first big celebration of the new, free galaxy, bit still laidback enough for a sadly no longer big royal wedding and a bride who wants a more simple, personal occasion.
The bread tearing! My favourite Hungarian wedding tradition is where the couple grabs the two ends of a circle shaped 'kalács' and tears it to see who will be the 'boss' in the marriage. Of course for Han and Leia the two pieces are the exact same size!
A Hungarian wedding is a huge party until dawn, and to signal at midnight that the day of the wedding passed, and the groom and bride is now the 'new husband and wife', they change into red clothes. They are also for sale now, at least a dance with them, time to get back the price of the wedding😉 (And if you find the picture familiar, it's from Palvin Barbi and Dylan Sprouse's very fun and very Hungarian wedding!)
The bride sometimes gets 'kidnapped', usually by the men in her family, and the groom has to find and 'free' her with cute, silly tasks. I imagine this to be a Corellian tradition, which is told by Wedge to Leia, who finds it hilarious, but Han firmly states that they won't do that, but the Rogues do it anyway lol. Leia has a fun time, especially when Han completes the task in a very romantic manner. Bonus, the picture I chose for this is also good for simply aesthetic purposes.
I hope you enjoyed this silly little moodboard with my commentary! 😊
