Jedi Mistletoe gift for Jedi-Em
Title: Shadow
Author: Firelady113
Gift for: Jedi-Em
Rating: PG
Pairing: Han/Leia
Summary: As Leia is nearing the end of her pregnancy, she muses on how much she is like her mother in more ways than one.
Disclaimer: Characters belong to George Lucas and all that jazz.
Warnings: None.
Author's Notes: I don’t read the Star Wars novels, so forgive me if any of the information is incorrect. I did research, but that only gets one so far.
I only remember her as a shadow. The woman I was born from, the woman that I should have aspired to be in my lifetime. The woman that held all the sadness of the world within her. What’s weird is that I only spent the first few moments of my life with her.
She gave me the breath to live. Carried me and my brother in secret, during the rage of war. A senator, nothing more. At one time a queen, perhaps, but the records were not completely reliable. Learning my beginnings with Luke from finding journals our father had kept that had been “destroyed” when they were found. Piecing back together the past we never had was like walking through dark catacombs with promising dead-ends.
Now here I lay, on a hot summer’s night, much in the same position. Like my mother, I am married and carrying twins. I have to carry my children carefully, not because my husband and I are married in secret, like my parents were, but because the life within me is under attack.
I am nearing the end of my pregnancy. I only have a few months left to carry the life I feel within me. Every day, their force grows. However, I do not let my “condition” interfere with my involvement with the New Republic. But I do it discreetly as possible.
The door downstairs has just opened. He’ll be up here any minute, asking me why I’m not sleeping yet. Mark my words. Goodnight.
She shuts the old-fashioned leather-bound book with the pen left in the space where the pages were bound, just in time to roll over and come face-to-face with her husband’s hazel eyes.
“Evening,” Han says with a smirk and Leia sighs, pulling him down for a short albeit passionate kiss. “Evening came and went many hours ago, Han. You’re quite late again.”
“What can I say, keeping you three safe is an endless job.”
Leia couldn’t argue with that, watching as he lifts his palms off the mattress and heads toward the fresher to clean up for the night. That familiar smell of fuel fills the air of the room, and she could not deny the fact that she found that smell at first absolutely nauseating. But after being around Han for almost nine years now, it gives her a feeling of home and of security. Much different from the perfume of the flowers that used to bloom outside her windowsill on Alderaan in the palace she called home for almost two decades, but the same effect.
Han is always topless when he gets into bed, and Leia really wasn’t going to complain about that little detail. “So, princess. Why are you never asleep when I get home?”
Leia smiles whenever Han called her that. Even after all these years, he would still use the terms of respect as soft terms of endearment. “You really expect me to sleep while you’re out risking your life? I’ve got you out playing super hero and Luke out being a pilot. I can barely do what I need to do in a day without worrying for the both of you, let alone sleep without you here.”
The heavy presence of his calloused hand makes itself known on her swollen midsection that is in the middle of the two. A kick is his reward, and Han smiles. Leia will never deny loving that little exchange between her unborn children and her husband. “Apparently they can’t either.”
She shakes her head, grinning to Han. “You know they like to keep me up half the night anyhow.”
“Practice for when they’re actually here and screaming every few hours,” Han says with a nervous laugh. Children were not his expertise, and being a father was just about the scariest thought he had ever had to entertain. But he would embrace it much like flying a new type of ship: with headstrong and blind ambition.
There is quiet for a while, and the automatic lights in the room are beginning to dim. Leia welcomes the increased darkness, the children within her giving her a chance to rest. Han, however, is not. Fingers are playing with her long chocolate brown locks, and he is close enough now to touch his forehead to her own. Han is a considerate lover, and she is glad that she finally consented to have children. The experience had brought the two closer than they ever had been. With all that was going on in the New Republic and the ever growing galactic forces, it was rare that the two ever got time to just settle down for a quiet evening. It is the first night in a while that Han is actually awake when he hits the pillow, and not out like a light. She never gets mad at him for it, either way.
Her small hand reaches up to cup his cheek. His newly washed skin is soft to the touch, a few lines embedded in his features adding more texture to his face. He’s giving her that cocky grin-the one he gave her when they shared their first kiss in that dark corner of the Falcon. She would never admit it out loud, but it is one of the features of Han that made her melt.
But most importantly, he’s here. He’s here with that protective hand on the resting place of their children. He’s here, he’s alive, and it’s the first time in a long time she’s felt like she has a family.
Their lips meet again, this time the kiss is longer and more prepared. They manage to keep it going for half a minute before breaking apart.
“Leia,” he finally starts, just as her head is tucked underneath his chin in the crook of his neck. She makes a soft “hm?” sound, and he continues. “What were you writing about when I came in?”
“The point of a diary is for it to be kept secret, Han,” she says with a soft chuckle, but she answers anyway. “I was musing on my mother.”
Han looks up to the ceiling, a confused expression on his face that he’ll keep to himself. “Which one?”
Leia is not offended by the question in the slightest. “Padmé… my biological mother. I was writing about how I’m finding myself in an ironically similar situation to what she was in.” At this, she feels Han tense up. “I meant that I’m carrying twins in a sort of secrecy for their safety, nothing more.” She yawns, closing her eyes with a soft sigh. “Don’t worry about it.”
The male wants to say more, but keeps his mouth shut. He knows not to question his wife anymore. Her frame is heavy in his arms now, and he knows she is on her way to unconsciousness. She’ll answer his questions tomorrow, perhaps, if he remembers to ask. So he lets her sleep, knowing it is a precious commodity nowadays, and dawn’s light will be filtering through the windows all too soon.
Author: Firelady113
Gift for: Jedi-Em
Rating: PG
Pairing: Han/Leia
Summary: As Leia is nearing the end of her pregnancy, she muses on how much she is like her mother in more ways than one.
Disclaimer: Characters belong to George Lucas and all that jazz.
Warnings: None.
Author's Notes: I don’t read the Star Wars novels, so forgive me if any of the information is incorrect. I did research, but that only gets one so far.
I only remember her as a shadow. The woman I was born from, the woman that I should have aspired to be in my lifetime. The woman that held all the sadness of the world within her. What’s weird is that I only spent the first few moments of my life with her.
She gave me the breath to live. Carried me and my brother in secret, during the rage of war. A senator, nothing more. At one time a queen, perhaps, but the records were not completely reliable. Learning my beginnings with Luke from finding journals our father had kept that had been “destroyed” when they were found. Piecing back together the past we never had was like walking through dark catacombs with promising dead-ends.
Now here I lay, on a hot summer’s night, much in the same position. Like my mother, I am married and carrying twins. I have to carry my children carefully, not because my husband and I are married in secret, like my parents were, but because the life within me is under attack.
I am nearing the end of my pregnancy. I only have a few months left to carry the life I feel within me. Every day, their force grows. However, I do not let my “condition” interfere with my involvement with the New Republic. But I do it discreetly as possible.
The door downstairs has just opened. He’ll be up here any minute, asking me why I’m not sleeping yet. Mark my words. Goodnight.
She shuts the old-fashioned leather-bound book with the pen left in the space where the pages were bound, just in time to roll over and come face-to-face with her husband’s hazel eyes.
“Evening,” Han says with a smirk and Leia sighs, pulling him down for a short albeit passionate kiss. “Evening came and went many hours ago, Han. You’re quite late again.”
“What can I say, keeping you three safe is an endless job.”
Leia couldn’t argue with that, watching as he lifts his palms off the mattress and heads toward the fresher to clean up for the night. That familiar smell of fuel fills the air of the room, and she could not deny the fact that she found that smell at first absolutely nauseating. But after being around Han for almost nine years now, it gives her a feeling of home and of security. Much different from the perfume of the flowers that used to bloom outside her windowsill on Alderaan in the palace she called home for almost two decades, but the same effect.
Han is always topless when he gets into bed, and Leia really wasn’t going to complain about that little detail. “So, princess. Why are you never asleep when I get home?”
Leia smiles whenever Han called her that. Even after all these years, he would still use the terms of respect as soft terms of endearment. “You really expect me to sleep while you’re out risking your life? I’ve got you out playing super hero and Luke out being a pilot. I can barely do what I need to do in a day without worrying for the both of you, let alone sleep without you here.”
The heavy presence of his calloused hand makes itself known on her swollen midsection that is in the middle of the two. A kick is his reward, and Han smiles. Leia will never deny loving that little exchange between her unborn children and her husband. “Apparently they can’t either.”
She shakes her head, grinning to Han. “You know they like to keep me up half the night anyhow.”
“Practice for when they’re actually here and screaming every few hours,” Han says with a nervous laugh. Children were not his expertise, and being a father was just about the scariest thought he had ever had to entertain. But he would embrace it much like flying a new type of ship: with headstrong and blind ambition.
There is quiet for a while, and the automatic lights in the room are beginning to dim. Leia welcomes the increased darkness, the children within her giving her a chance to rest. Han, however, is not. Fingers are playing with her long chocolate brown locks, and he is close enough now to touch his forehead to her own. Han is a considerate lover, and she is glad that she finally consented to have children. The experience had brought the two closer than they ever had been. With all that was going on in the New Republic and the ever growing galactic forces, it was rare that the two ever got time to just settle down for a quiet evening. It is the first night in a while that Han is actually awake when he hits the pillow, and not out like a light. She never gets mad at him for it, either way.
Her small hand reaches up to cup his cheek. His newly washed skin is soft to the touch, a few lines embedded in his features adding more texture to his face. He’s giving her that cocky grin-the one he gave her when they shared their first kiss in that dark corner of the Falcon. She would never admit it out loud, but it is one of the features of Han that made her melt.
But most importantly, he’s here. He’s here with that protective hand on the resting place of their children. He’s here, he’s alive, and it’s the first time in a long time she’s felt like she has a family.
Their lips meet again, this time the kiss is longer and more prepared. They manage to keep it going for half a minute before breaking apart.
“Leia,” he finally starts, just as her head is tucked underneath his chin in the crook of his neck. She makes a soft “hm?” sound, and he continues. “What were you writing about when I came in?”
“The point of a diary is for it to be kept secret, Han,” she says with a soft chuckle, but she answers anyway. “I was musing on my mother.”
Han looks up to the ceiling, a confused expression on his face that he’ll keep to himself. “Which one?”
Leia is not offended by the question in the slightest. “Padmé… my biological mother. I was writing about how I’m finding myself in an ironically similar situation to what she was in.” At this, she feels Han tense up. “I meant that I’m carrying twins in a sort of secrecy for their safety, nothing more.” She yawns, closing her eyes with a soft sigh. “Don’t worry about it.”
The male wants to say more, but keeps his mouth shut. He knows not to question his wife anymore. Her frame is heavy in his arms now, and he knows she is on her way to unconsciousness. She’ll answer his questions tomorrow, perhaps, if he remembers to ask. So he lets her sleep, knowing it is a precious commodity nowadays, and dawn’s light will be filtering through the windows all too soon.