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As peacekeeping liaison for Naboo, Leia had faced Trade Federation negotiators, Senate budget battles, and one very unpleasant Hutt dignitary who tried to lick her hand in greeting. But nothing compared to this.
Her mother was pouring her a drink. Her father was watching like a shriek-hawk from across the room. Luke was sprawled on the couch, sipping his water with infuriating serenity, eyes gleaming with amusement. And sitting beside her, nervously fiddling with the collar of a rented jacket, was Han Solo.
“ So, Han, ” Padmé said pleasantly, “ how did you and Leia meet? ”
Leia’s heart stuttered. No. No. No. No No!
She locked eyes with Han. Do not say the bar. Do not say the bar . If her father found out she had even been at Level 1313 , he would lock her in a room for eternity. In Tatooine . She tried to mentally scream at him.
Luke, of course, heard it. He almost snorted his water. She hated their twin telepathy sometimes.
To his credit, Han looked unphased. He leaned back and offered Padmé a charming, if slightly crooked smile. “It was, uh… a diplomatic charity mixer on Alderaan. Real classy. Silver appetizers. Live strings. She caught my eye across the room, and well, here we are.”
Padmé tilted her head, smiling in a way Leia had learned meant I absolutely know you're lying, but I'm too polite to call you out on it. “That sounds lovely.”
“Truly inspiring,” Anakin said flatly from his armchair. His arms were crossed over his chest, his eyes sharp and unreadable. Not a trace of warmth.
Leia resisted the urge to sink into the cushions.
“So,” Han said, trying to regain ground, “this place is beautiful. Never actually been this high up in the Senate District. View’s something else.”
“It is,” Luke agreed, far too casually. “Especially at night. You can see the landing zone where you parked your ship. Big, exposed area. No cover.”
Leia kicked him under the table.
Han chuckled uneasily. “Well, I’ve been making some deliveries lately for the Diplomatic Corps. I’m kind of a freelancer now.”
“That’s an interesting shift,” Anakin said. “From smuggling to... diplomacy.”
Leia stiffened. Han grinned, missing the landmine. “Hey, smuggling’s just freelance shipping with fewer regulations.”
Padmé raised a very slow eyebrow.
There was a clink as Anakin set his cup down. “Fewer regulations. Right.”
Leia reached over and laced her fingers with Han’s, trying to send some kind of calming signal. His hand was warm, steady, but she could feel the tension.
Leia cleared her throat. “Mom, didn’t you say dinner would be ready soon?”
“Yes,” Padmé said quickly. “Why don’t we all sit down?”
Anakin stood. “Excellent idea.” His eyes locked on Han. “We’d love to get to know you better over a proper meal.”
Leia’s stomach sank. This was going to be a long night.
“So,” Anakin said, cutting his nerf roast with slow precision, “how long exactly were you smuggling before this... freelance career?”
Ugh, she had hoped her father would just let it go . Han glanced up from his plate, chewing. He swallowed quickly. “Ah, depends on how you define smuggling.”
“Illegally transporting goods for profit,” Anakin replied, voice mild, eyes not.
Leia’s fork froze mid-air. Luke let out a quiet, strangled cough that might have been a laugh.
“Well, then,” Han said, grinning like this was a sabacc table and he had a bad hand, “a while.”
“Fascinating,” Anakin said. “And now you’re transporting supplies for the Republic?”
“Peacekeeping missions,” Leia jumped in. “He helped ferry medical cargo to the Outer Rim settlements near the Kolanda Station. Twice.”
Han nodded quickly. “Yeah. Important work. People needed what we brought.”
“And how did the Republic choose you for such a vital job?” Anakin asked, too smooth.
Leia’s eyes narrowed. “He’s reliable. The crews trust him. And he’s faster than the standard convoys.”
“Because he ignores standard hyperspace lanes,” Luke whispered loudly, grinning. Leia kicked him again.
Padmé set down her glass gently. “Leia mentioned you two worked together on an assignment?”
Han brightened. “Yeah. Peacekeeping detail on Garel. There was a supply drop to a displaced settlement near the demilitarized zone.”
Leia immediately tensed. “Han – ”
“ – and I may have landed on the wrong side of the border,” he said casually, gesturing with his fork. “For, like, twenty minutes. Totally fixable. Except the locals mistook her for a rival faction envoy.”
Padmé’s smile froze slightly.
Anakin’s fork halted mid-bite.
Leia covered her face with her hands.
“I came back to get her!” Han added quickly. “No major injuries. Just, uh... one slightly scorched boot.”
“I liked that boot,” Leia muttered through her fingers.
Even R2 gave a low, uneasy warble.
Padmé took a breath. “Well. I suppose improvisation is an essential skill in the field.”
Anakin leaned back, expression unreadable. “So let me get this straight. You flew her into restricted airspace, got her mistaken for an enemy diplomat, and now you’re dating.”
Han frowned. “That’s a very dramatic interpretation… sir.”
Luke snorted into his glass.
Leia bristled. “Dad.”
“No, really,” Anakin said, leaning forward, hands clasped. “What is your plan here, exactly?”
“My plan?” Han asked. “Ideally, to not get force-choked at dinner.”
Luke snorted , again. Where was C-3PO to teach him manners now, huh?
Leia shot to her feet. “Okay, that’s enough.”
Everyone froze.
She glared at her father. “I brought him here because I care about him. He’s more than just his past. You don’t get to interrogate him like he’s a prisoner.”
Anakin’s jaw clenched. “I’m not interrogating him. I’m protecting you.”
“I don’t need protecting,” she snapped. “I need trust. I’ve earned that.”
She turned on her heel and stormed out of the room. The door hissed shut behind her.
A heavy silence followed.
Padmé slowly wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Well. That went better than last time you threatened a boy.”
Luke grinned. “That was the gardener’s son on Naboo. Dad made him cry.”
Han blinked. “I’m sorry, there was a last time?”
Padmé just sipped her wine.
Anakin sat back in his chair, looking at the empty doorway.
“I’m going to regret this,” he muttered.
Leia’s boots echoed sharply as she stormed down the hall, her jaw clenched, her eyes bright with anger.
She didn’t slam the door to her childhood room. But only because it was built with a military-grade soundproof seal, and she wouldn’t give her father the satisfaction of a dramatic exit.
Shiraya, of course he had to interrogate Han like she was dragging home a war criminal.
She paced once, twice, then sat heavily on the bed, burying her face in her hands.
A soft knock came at the door a few minutes later.
“It’s me,” Padmé said gently.
Leia hesitated, then waved the door open with a flick of her hand.
Her mother stepped in and closed it behind her. “That could’ve gone better.”
Leia exhaled shakily. “He doesn’t trust me.”
Padmé sat beside her. “He’s scared.”
“I’m not a child,” Leia said. “I’ve been negotiating ceasefires since I was seventeen. I’ve worked in refugee camps. I don’t need him deciding who’s worthy of me like I’m some… some… Naboo heirloom.”
Padmé smiled sadly. “He doesn’t see you that way. But to him, you’ll always be the baby who clung to his finger with her whole hand. And the one who tried to fix droids with a spoon.”
Leia groaned and dropped back on the bed. “I knew introducing Han was a bad idea.”
“He’s not what your father expected,” Padmé admitted. “But that doesn’t mean he’s wrong for you.”
Leia glanced up. “Do you think Han’s wrong for me?”
Padmé’s answer was simple. “I think he looks at you like you’ve crafted every star in the galaxy. That’s a pretty good sign.”
Luke leaned on the back of the couch, watching Han nurse a glass of Mandallian Narcolethe gifted by the Duchess of Mandalore like it was a Droid ale.
“You’re doing better than the last guy she brought home,” Luke said.
Han raised a brow. “The Naboo Gardener?”
“Years ago, I think we were twelve or thirteen. Dad made him cry. That was all just over a picnic.”
Han stared. “Your family is terrifying.”
“Welcome to it,” Luke said cheerfully. “You held up okay, all things considered.”
Han grunted. “I thought I was being charming.”
“You were. That’s the problem.”
Elsewhere, on the balcony, Anakin stood alone, arms folded as he stared out at the city skyline. His jaw was tight, his shoulders rigid, as speeders drifted like fireflies in the night air.
Padmé joined him quietly, looking as regal as the day he met her.
“You scared her,” she said after a pause.
“I’m protecting her.”
Padmé sighed. “Are you? Or did you just make sure she’d never bring someone home again?”
Anakin didn’t answer.
“She’s strong, Ani. You don’t get to decide who she loves. That’s not how we raised her.”
He turned to face her, brow furrowed. “But she’s my little girl.” He was sounding quite whiny for such an imposing man.
Padmé smiled. “I know. And she always will be. She doesn’t need your lightsaber. She needs your faith.”
Anakin looked away again, eyes flicking to the city below. “I’m going to have a word with him.”
Padmé rolled her eyes. “Please try not to blow anything up.”
“You don’t get it. I know what boys his age are after.”
“Oh do you? And what did you want from me at that age?”
Anakin opened his mouth, paused, and visibly faltered. “…That’s not the point.”
Padmé arched an elegant eyebrow, folding her arms. “It’s exactly the point.”
He turned away again, grumbling. “It was different with us.”
“Oh? Enlighten me.”
“We were at the center of a war,” he said defensively. “We didn’t have time for… casual dating. We were busy not dying.”
Padmé stepped closer, her expression softening with exasperated affection. “And yet somehow, you still managed to sneak into my quarters between campaigns. Funny how that worked.”
Anakin sighed. “I wasn’t some Corellian flyboy with a death wish and a blaster in his boot.”
Padmé gave him a look.
He amended, “Okay, yes , fine, I was technically a reckless adrenaline addict from Tatooine with questionable judgment. But – ”
“You were brave. And sincere. And you made mistakes,” she said gently. “And I loved you anyway.”
That shut him up. The city lights cast a golden glow across her face. She reached up, smoothing a hand along the front of his robe.
“She loves him,” Padmé said quietly. “Not blindly, and not foolishly. But she loves him. And if you don’t try – no, don’t give me that look, Ani, really try – to accept that, you’ll lose her.”
He nodded once. “Just a talk .”
Padmé gave him a long look. “Anakin.”
He held up both hands. “A calm talk.”
She stepped back, eyes narrowing in amused suspicion. “I swear, if you start monologuing like a Sith –”
“Come on,” he muttered, brushing past her. “I’m not that dramatic.”
Behind them, R2 gave a skeptical beep as he rolled past them.
The hydrospanner slipped from Han’s fingers and clanged to the floor.
He winced and leaned back from the engine bay, knuckles scraped, brow slick with sweat. The Falcon sat like a beast at rest, systems halfway gutted.
He turned to grab a rag, and froze.
Anakin Skywalker's cloaked figure stood just inside the hangar’s threshold.
Han blinked twice, looked over his shoulder as if maybe the Jedi Master/war veteran was staring at someone behind him. No such luck.
“Oh,” he said, voice a touch higher than usual. “Hi.”
He was about to shit himself.
Anakin said nothing. He stepped forward slowly, boots echoing across the empty hangar. Everyone left hours ago. No one would be looking for his body.
Han cleared his throat. “Leia’s not here, if that’s what – ”
“I know where Leia is.”
That somehow wasn’t reassuring.
Han nodded, backing toward the workbench. “Cool. Okay. Can I get you… a drink? We got a few bottles of Reserve Lum Blend. That’s if you’re into the fancy stuff.”
Anakin looked at him like he was a sand tick who had crawled up his boot. “You think this is a social visit?”
“Well,” Han said, tugging at the collar of his shirt. It was so hot in here. “I was hoping. ”
Anakin stopped just a meter away. Too close. Not touching, but the air felt charged. Tense. Heavy.
“I’m not here as her father,” Anakin said quietly. “I’m here as a Jedi. And as a man who’s seen what people like you do.”
Han straightened slightly, trying to look casual. “People like me?”
“Charming. Careless. You run when things get hard. You cover fear with arrogance.” His voice stayed calm, but it dropped a note colder. “You think because you’ve had a painful childhood, you get to pretend you’re the only one who’s ever bled for something. That pain makes you complicated. It doesn’t.”
Han’s smile faltered.
Anakin took another step forward, eyes fixed. “You’ve got that look. Like you expect people to give up on you eventually. Sooner or later, you’ll make sure they do.”
He let the words hang.
Han’s jaw clenched. “Look, I get it. You don’t like me. But you’re not exactly impartial here.”
“I’m not here to like you.” Anakin took another step, and now the hilt of his lightsaber was visible beneath his cloak. “I’m here to make sure you understand what will happen if you ever give her reason to doubt herself. To feel small. To feel alone. ”
Han didn’t move. “I wouldn’t.”
“Not intentionally,” Anakin allowed. “But intentions don’t mean much when someone you love is bleeding because of you.”
For a moment, the hangar was silent but for the low hum of the power coils.
Anakin’s gaze sharpened. “You may think I’m overreacting. That I’m being dramatic.”
Han raised both hands slightly. “No judgment. Jedi dad energy. It’s all very intimidating. You’re doing great.”
Anakin didn’t laugh. “She is stronger than both of us combined. But if you ever make her feel like less than she is…”
He didn’t finish the sentence. Han could take a wild guess.
Behind Han, the scattered tools on the bench began to rattle, then rise.
One by one, hydrospanners, calibration rods, and loose bolts lifted into the air, hovering in a slow orbit like moons around an invisible gravity well.
Then, with sudden precision, the tools launched themselves into the Falcon’s exposed hull, locking into place with perfect alignment, sealing a panel Han hadn’t even touched yet.
The last bolt spun once, then drove itself into its socket with a sharp metallic crack.
Anakin didn’t look back.
He simply turned and walked away, cloak trailing behind him, his presence receding like the pressure of a storm breaking.
Han exhaled, blinking after him.
“Yup,” Han muttered, watching him disappear into the shadows. “Okay. That tracks.”
The door buzzed. Once. Then again.
Leia ignored it.
A moment later, it slid open anyway. Of course it did.
Anakin stood in the doorway, looking more like a stranger than her father. No armor, no robes. Just a dark tunic, hands awkwardly at his sides, brow furrowed with something that was probably guilt, though he wore it like an ill-fitting cape.
She turned away from him, arms crossed tightly.
“I didn’t say come in.”
“I know.”
Silence stretched, sharp as glass.
He stepped inside slowly, like she might bolt if he moved too fast.
“I didn’t come to fight, princess.” he said.
Leia exhaled. “Smart. Because I would win.”
He winced.
“Leia,” he said carefully, “I’m trying. I just...”
She turned, eyes blazing. “You embarrassed me. You interrogated someone I care about. You treated me like I was twelve years old in braids and a princess sash.”
“You’re still my daughter,” he said.
“I’m also a Peacekeeping Liaison for the Republic,” she shot back. “I’ve been held hostage. I’ve been shot at. I can handle myself. ”
Anakin looked pained. “I know that.”
“No, you don’t,” she said, voice cracking. “You say you do, but the second I make a choice you don’t like, you look at me like I’ve failed some unspoken test.”
He dropped his gaze.
“It’s not about you, Dad,” she said, quieter now. “It’s about me. My choices. My life. You don’t have to like who I love. But you do have to respect that I’m capable of making my own choices.”
She paused. “Just like Mom did.”
That hit him square in the chest.
He sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, suddenly looking much older than his age. “You’re right,” he said softly. “I’m scared.”
Leia blinked.
“I see the way he looks at you. Like he’d jump in front of a blaster for you. Like he’d follow you to the edge of the galaxy. That’s what terrifies me.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s how I looked at your mother.”
The room went very still.
Anakin smiled, but there was no humor in it. “And I almost destroyed everything because of it.”
Leia stepped closer, guarded now. “You’re not him anymore. And he’s not you.”
He nodded. “Believe me, I know. But the fear doesn’t go away just because I know better.”
She sighed. “I just want you to trust me.”
“I do,” he said quietly. “I just didn’t trust myself to let go.”
Leia looked at him for a long moment. Then she sat down beside him, shoulder to shoulder.
“I don’t need you to let go. Just… loosen the grip.”
He laughed once. He sounded soft and tired. “I’ll try.”
She nudged him gently. “You know, he’s terrified of you.”
“Good,” Anakin said without hesitation.
Leia groaned. “ Dad. ”
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” Han muttered, tugging at the collar of his cleaner jacket. “He’s gonna saber me in the ribs the second I reach for a breadstick.”
Leia gave him a withering look as they stepped off the lift. “I told you. He got it out of his system.”
Han raised a brow. “He used the Force to reassemble my ship without touching it. I think his system has layers.”
Leia smiled tightly. “I’m serious. Just be... normal.”
The door slid open.
Inside, the atmosphere was mercifully calm. The dining room was set again – less formal this time, no candles, no heavy place settings. Luke lounged at the table, already eating something off a shared platter.
Padmé stood from the kitchen console with a warm smile. “Welcome back, Han.”
Han straightened, ever so slightly. “Hi. Thanks for the invitation. Again.”
“Don’t thank me,” Padmé said lightly. “Thank Leia. She made your return a condition for peace.”
Leia shot her mother a grateful look and marched toward the table, dragging Han by the wrist.
Anakin was already seated. Not looming. Not glaring. Just quiet, one hand resting on the table, the other idly rotating a wineglass with the Force.
Han did not comment on that.
He took the empty seat across from him, cleared his throat. “So.”
Anakin looked up. “So.”
Leia kicked Han’s ankle under the table. He jolted.
Han drew in a breath. “Look, I know I’m not exactly the poster boy for stability. And I know you don’t trust me. You shouldn’t. Not yet. But I care about her. More than anything. I don’t want to screw this up.”
Anakin studied him for a long moment.
“I believe you,” he said simply.
Han blinked. “You do?”
“I also believe you’ll make a mistake. Probably soon.” He sipped his drink. “But if you’re smart, you’ll listen to her. And learn.”
Han exhaled. “That’s… probably the nicest threat I’ve gotten from you so far.”
Luke snorted.
Anakin offered a small, dangerous smile. “Don’t tempt me.”
Padmé sat down beside him, placing a hand on his arm before turning to Leia. “Are we all friends again?”
Leia arched a brow. “Define ‘friends.’”
Luke raised a glass. “If he’s still breathing, I’d say that’s a win.”