Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

PROMPT: Noir AU. Leia is the hardboiled detective, Boba is the tasty trouble. 

The way it goes is like this. They walk in the door. They have a problem. They’re not expecting a woman.

Plenty of them have asked me to fetch my boss. “Let me talk to the man in charge, sweetheart,”  as if there’s some other room in this dive. As if I’m not sitting at the big desk, with my certificate behind me. Leia Organa, Private Investigator.

This guy was different, I could see it right away. He was expecting a woman. He asked around before. That makes him trouble.

Not a bad looking bit of trouble. He’s got an island look to him, black hair, dark eyes. Skin like coffee with a lot of cream. When he says “good afternoon” there’s a slight trace of an unfamiliar accent. That’s San Francisco for you.

“Good afternoon,” I reply. He’s got a tattoo on his chest, I can see the edges just above his shirt collar. I’d like to see the rest of it. I wonder if he’d unbutton his shirt to show me.

Like I said, trouble. “What can I do for you?”

“You have a reputation for finding people,” he says. “I’m looking for someone. A friend.” He lays a battered photograph on the top of the desk, and flicks it toward me with his fingers.

It’s raining handsome men in here today, although the man in the photograph is the opposite of my visitor in every way. A white man with tousled hair, slouching in the booth of a diner. The way he’s smiling, you have to figure who ever took the photo was close to him. Real close.

Now I’m looking at my visitor and wondering something else. “A friend, huh?”

“We were in the navy together.”

That could be true. This one carries himself like a military man. “Name?”

“Han Solo.”

“Sit down,” I tell him, and I reach into my bottom drawer for the scotch. “When did you last see him?”

“About six weeks ago. He was a regular at the gambling parlor on 6th Street. Had a lot of debts.”

He sits without looking at the chair. Without taking his eyes off of me. This guy’s getting more interesting by the second.

“You think someone got tired of waiting for payment?” I set two crystal highball glasses on the desk with a thunk. Normally I’m not stingy, but my scotch reserves are running low. I pour two slim fingers in each glass.

“Or he bolted.” The man shrugs. “But I think he’s still here.”

“Why’s that?”

“He has a dog. Big shaggy beast. Goes everywhere with him. If he left the area, I think he would have taken the dog with him.”

There’s a theory I’m working on. I lean forward and push one glass toward him, with too much force. It slides right off the edge of the desk, and without so much as a blink, he catches it with one hand. For the first time, his eyes drop, down to the oriental rug that’s been discolored by so many dropped scotches.

He raises his eyes slowly and meets mine.

Yeah. Trouble.

Chapter Text

PROMPT: Tam Lin is a Scottish ballad about a girl who goes wandering near a fairy hill and is captured by a handsome elf. The girl learns that the elf is under the power of fairy queen and is going to be sacrificed, so she undertakes a dangerous mission to save him. Here's a simple telling of the story for anyone interested. 

Quickly, quickly, quickly. Leia ran as fast she could. Her long green cloak dragged behind her as she lept over rocks and fallen trees. She ducked around tree branches and sidestepped brambles until she was forced to come to a sudden stop. Somehow she had run into a dip in the forest floor with high, rocky ground surrounding her. She turned, panting, and released her skirts from her clenched fists as she saw the hunter perched on the rock to her left.

The hunter was balanced on one knee, leaning on his longbow. As if he’d been there all along, waiting for her. He had piercing dark eyes like a hawk and he wore no shirt, but leather armor over earth-colored breeches and soft-soled boots. “Are you done?” He asked with infuriating calm. “This is your third attempt, but go for four if you like.” He seemed almost amused, as he were enjoying their little game.

“You have to let me go!” She insisted, her pulse pounding in her throat. “This land belongs to my father, Lord Anakin Skywalker.”

“If this were his land, you would be able to leave it.” The hunter stood. “Are you thirsty?”

He lept easily down from the rock and moved toward the mouth of gulley. She followed him, feeling that she really had no choice. Her father had warned her, time and time again about venturing too far into the woods. “The deep woods belong to the Night Queen of Dathomir,” he told her. “Her hunters will capture any humans who trespass." 

“Here,” the hunter said, and slipped through a narrow opening in the rocks. When Leia followed him, she saw a clearing with a beautiful waterfall, cascading down into a deep blue pool. The hunter cupped the water in his hand and drank. He looked human, but then the queen drew servants from all realms.

The water was almost painfully cold, but she drank deeply and then dipped the corner of her cloak to wet her face and neck. When she finished, she saw the hunter sitting in the soft green grass beside the pool. “It’s time for a break,” he said, pulling some bread and cheese from his pack. “Join me.”

Slowly she made her way over to him, and sat in the grass. It felt good to rest. The sun was filtering in through the trees, dappling the grass with light. “This is a beautiful place.”

He nodded in agreement and tore the small loaf of bread in half. He handed one half to her, and then divided up the cheese in the same fashion. It tasted like human food, and yet it was unlike anything she’d ever tasted.

“Are you always this nice to your prisoners?” She asked as she finished off her cheese.

“What were you expecting? Chains?” He laid back on the grass, with his hands tucked behind his head. His bow was just on the other side of him, along with his quiver of arrows. Leia wondered if she could reach one. He looked like a man, but could he be killed like a man?

“I’m going to die soon,” the hunter said abruptly, and for a horrifying second she thought he could read her thoughts.

“What?”

“There’s a sacrifice, every seven years. I’ve been chosen.”

“A sacrifice?”

“For Queen Asajj. May her power be eternal.” He said the benediction with a little bit of dryness. “I’ve known it would happen since I was a child. I watched my father die on the altar.” He paused, looking up at the trees. “It always seemed so far off.”

“That’s...terrible.” Only a moment ago she was thinking about murdering him, but now she felt a little sorry for him. It never occurred to her that those in service to the Night Queen might be prisoners in their own way. “You can’t leave?”

“No.” He turned his head toward her. “But I can take you to the border and let you go home, which is what I’m going to do.”

“Oh.” She should have been grateful, but all she felt was annoyance. “You couldn’t have decided that before all the running and chasing?”

The corner of his mouth pulled up into a half-smile. “Sorry. I haven’t had a challenge in a while.”

“Was it a challenge? It didn’t look like it.”

“I almost lost you the third time.”

“Really?”

“No.” The half-smile turned to a sly grin.

She threw the leftover bread crust at him, hitting him square in the chest.

“You’re very fast,” he conceded as he brushed the crumbs away. “It’s always been said that the Skywalkers have a little magic in them.”

She sighed and leaned back on her arms. Suddenly she wasn’t in such a hurry to go home. “My father is going to be furious with me.”

The hunter said nothing. Leia inwardly chiding herself for complaining about her father with a man who lost his so cruelly. “Do you have any other family?”

“No.”

Leia stretched out on the grass beside him. “What’s your name?”

“Boba Fett. Why?”

“Well, if you are going to die soon, someone should remember you. It seems like the least I can do.”

“Thank you.”

“My name is Leia.”

“Thank you, Leia.” He said solemnly, and with sincerity. He seemed resigned to his fate.

Leia closed her eyes and felt the warmth of the sun, and softness of the grass beneath her. “Boba,” she said after a quiet minute or two.

“Yes?”

“Would you like to kiss me?”

Her eyes were still shut, but she heard the slight hitch in his breathing. “I’ve never done that.”

“Kissed a human?”

“Kissed anyone.”

She opened her eyes and rolled over, her hair hanging over her shoulders like a curtain as she leaned over him. He was very still, his hands still tucked behind his head as he looked up into her eyes.

“You’re not going for my arrows, are you?”

“Not this time,” she said, and kissed him.

His stillness lasted another second or two and then he was arching up to meet her lips, his hands twining her hair. It was predictable, perhaps even inevitable under these circumstances that it wouldn’t stop at kissing.

The warmth of the sun and the heat of their bodies soon induced Leia to remove her long green cloak, and other articles of clothing followed. Before long her cloak was spread over the grass, and she was spread out on top of it with the hunter snared between her thighs.

When at last all activity ceased, Leia wrapped the edges of her cloak around them both and listened to the music of the waterfall. She wondered if her father would mind terribly if his grandchildren were half-Dathomirian. She kissed her lover once more. 

“There has to be a way,” she said.

A spark caught in his dark eyes, the tiniest glimmer of hope. “There might be.”

Chapter Text

PROMPT: A request from W31rdG4l for a fairy tale or Rapunzel themed AU. 

“I need to talk to you.”

Jango lowered the bowcaster he was fine-tuning, and looked up at his son. He looked...rattled. And Boba was never rattled. He had the coolest head and steadiest hand of any of the Mando’ade, a fact Jango was very proud of.

But his son stared back at him now, with tension in his shoulders and one hand gripping the hilt of his beskad. Jango laid down the bow, and rose without a word. It was hard to get privacy in the Mandalorian encampment, so when privacy was desired, they had a place they went. A small clearing a short walk from the camp, near a babbling stream.

“What’s going on?”

His son grimaced, and looked away, and even though he was a grown man, Jango could only see the little boy he’d once been.

“Boba. What did you do?”

“Remember the conversation we had several months ago? About the girl in the tower?”

“Yes, I remember it.” Jango folded his arms over his chest. “Have you been talking to her again?”

“...Yes.”

Jango sighed. “You can’t let Fenn Shysa fill your head with talk about the Rebellion. That girl is auretti, and more importantly, she’s the Emperor’s prisoner. If you’re seen talking to her, we’ll have Imps crawling up our shebs.”

“No one saw me. I made sure of it.”

“Then let her be. You’re not doing her any favors either.” Jango took a step closer to his son and laid a hand on his shoulder. “I’ve heard she’s very beautiful. And very intelligent. But there are lots of beautiful and intelligent Mando girls. Find one. Make me some grandkids.”

“You want grandkids?” His son seemed bemused by this. “Now?”

“These are dark times, I know. But when I left Dooku’s service I did it for one reason and one reason alone. I did it for you. I realized that there’s only one thing worth fighting for in this shit galaxy, and that’s family.”

“But it wasn’t easy to leave,” Boba noted. “I’ve heard the stories.”

“No. Haar’chak, no. But it was worth it. To see you grow up here, with our people. To see the man you’ve become.” His hand tightened on his son’s shoulder and then he released it. “I’m very proud of you. You know that, right?”

“I know that,” Boba agreed. He raised a hand and rubbed the back of his neck. “And I need you to remember that. Remember how I’ve always listened to you and never gone against you, even when I disagreed.”

A twig snapped, not from the direction of the camp but from the other side of the babbling stream. Jango’s hand went immediately to his beskad, but his son grasped his arm, his grip strong. Jango looked at him in confusion, and then followed his gaze to the creek bank. A woman was standing there now. A short, slim little thing with chopped off hair and clothes that were obviously borrowed from someone who was a different size.

She had her hands clasped in front of her, and Jango could see by the curve of her belly that she was pregnant.

“Dad,” Boba said carefully, “this is Leia Skywalker.”

Haar’chak.

Chapter Text

PROMPT: This was requested as a play on the Innocent Fanservice Girl trope, but with a guy because as the requester put it, fuck the patriarchy. 

Another few seconds and they would have been too late.

The thought still makes her pulse race, even though they’re safe aboard the Millennium Falcon now. Lando and Chewie were in the cockpit, arguing about the quickest jump from the Anoat system. R2-D2 was working on putting C-3PO back together. Han was still frozen in carbonite, but alive.

As long as his vitals remained stable, they’d decided the safest course of action was to get him back to Yavin IV and let the medical team thaw him out.

That left Leia minding the hostage she hadn’t wanted to take in the first place, but Lando thought he might be way to gain leverage with Hutts and clear Han’s debts. Boba Fett was worth a lot to the right people.

The bounty hunter hadn’t gone down easy. Her ears were still ringing from the EMP grenade. Lando came within inches of being blasted off the landing platform, and if it wasn’t for Chewie...the outcome could have been very different.

Leia looked at the armored man, still unconscious on the floor. She’d taken his blasters right away, and his bracers. One held a flame thrower and the other a series of darts. She then removed his belt, and emptied the pockets of his faded flightsuit. Finally she tried to tug off his helmet, but it had a fingerprint lock. She stripped off one of his gloves, and awkwardly maneuvered his finger in place.

She wasn’t sure what she expected to find under the helmet. Someone older, maybe. A face that matched his battered armor. He was really pretty ordinary looking. Dark hair and heavy brows. Broad nose. Full mouth. Tan skin. She put his age around thirty.

He stirred, just a little, and her hand went to the blaster beside her. One dark brow twitched, but he didn’t open his eyes.

“I can stun you again just as easily,” she told him.

His eyes opened. Brown eyes the color of strong caf. He swallowed, and winced just a little.

“Chewie slammed you into that wall pretty hard,” she said, drawing the blaster into her lap. “I wouldn’t try to sit up yet.”

He shifted against the hard floor. His eyes went to where his helmet sat, along with his weapons, and Leia suddenly felt uneasy. She had a hunch that maybe that wasn’t all of it. “Here’s what we’re going to do,” she announced. “You’re going to take everything off. If you make a move that I don’t like, I’m going to stun your ass again.”

He closed his eyes briefly. “Water?”

“Water is for good bounty hunters who do as they’re told.”

The corner of his mouth pulled up, just slightly. “As you wish.” He started slowly, his hands a little unsteady as he unfastened his breastplate. He removed his shoulderguards, sliding them across the floor to her feet, and then started opening his flightsuit down the front.

He rolled his weight to one shoulder while he peeled the suit off one arm, and then did the same for the other one. He wore a sleeveless white shirt underneath, and Leia could see the smooth muscular definition in his arms as he shoved the flightsuit down to his waist. There was a long, thin scar crossing one shoulder. The kind a long, thin blade would leave behind.

He brought his knees up, one by one, and removed the kneecap shields and shin guards. Then he repeated the motion to remove his boots. His groin armor was next. There was a clear scorch mark on the lower half that caught Leia’s eye. “Did someone really try to shoot you in the dick?”

“Occupational hazard,” he murmured, and continued opening the flightsuit all the way down to the fly. She could see gray shorts now.

“Have you ever thought about changing your line of work?” She asked, only half-serious.

“No.” He braced his feet against the floor and lifted his hips, pushing his suit down to his thighs. She was getting a much better look at those gray shorts. They were very made from very light, clingy fabric.

He took a long, deep breath, his chest swelling under the thin undershirt. Then he brought his hands slowly up to rub his face. “I’d like to try sitting up now.”

“Okay. Go ahead.”

He braced his hands against the floor and carefully curled up into a sitting position. It was easy now for him to remove his socks and kick the flightsuit completely off. There was an old burn on his left leg that left it mottled with paler skin. He rested his arms on his knees for a second or two. “Can I stand?”

“Slowly.”

“Slowly,” he agreed. He grasped a raised seam in the wall beside him and used it to pull himself up, grimacing as he did. He could easily have a few bruised or broken ribs, but Leia wasn’t sure whether or not she could trust his portrayal of his condition. She was about to reach for the canteen beside her when he grasped the bottom edge of his undershirt and dragged it up over his head.

Oh kriff, he was still undressing.

His chest had the same lean muscular definition as his arms and thighs. His skin was smooth and hairless, except for a faint line of dark hair running from just below his navel to the waistband of his shorts. She hadn’t realized she was staring that particular part of him until his hands moved into her field of vision and with one smooth jerk, sent his shorts to the floor.

Well, she had said “everything.”

She couldn’t have said a word now even if her life depended on it. Instead she grabbed the canteen and tossed it to him. He tilted the canteen up and took a long drink. Then he raised it higher and poured a small amount of water on his head. He wiped a hand over his face as the water ran over his shoulders and thinned into delicate droplets that traced over his chest and down to his abdomen.  

“Whoa.”

Lando’s voice startled her, and heat flooded her cheeks when she saw him standing in the doorway of the cockpit. “I wanted to make sure he was unarmed.”

Lando gave their captive a less-than-subtle once over as Fett shoved the stopper aggressively into the neck of the canteen and stared back at him without so much as blinking. He didn’t seem at all concerned with his lack of clothing.

“That’s...probably a good idea,” Lando said. “Can’t be too careful with this barve.”

The bounty hunter gave him a cold, tight-lipped smile.

“Right. Good job.” Lando ducked back into the cockpit. “She’s fine,” Leia heard him say to Chewie. “She’s got everything under control.”

She tightened her grip on her blaster and returned her attention to Fett. He was studying her in a detached way that was somehow neither malicious nor benign. Leia raised her eyebrows at him, determined not to appear flustered.

“It’s a nice thought,” he said. “But I’m never unarmed.”

Chapter Text

PROMPT: Boba got picked up by Clan Skirata and Leia meets him in the rebellion. 

 Author's Note: There are a thousand ways to do this AU better, but I took the lazy route by setting it right after the battle of Endor.

“May I come in?”

Boba didn’t look up. He was sitting on the floor with his back against the wall, but with his  helmet perched between his feet, he could see their visitor perfectly in the reflection of the visor. He expected her to walk right in. She was Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan, she could go pretty much anywhere she wanted.

But she didn’t. She waited for permission.

“Come in,” he said finally.

She walked slowly over to the stretcher in the center of the room, stepping carefully over the equipment cables. Only the most critically wounded had this kind of setup in a battlefield med center. “How is he?”

“Not good.”

She sighed, and then to Boba’s surprise, sat down on the dirty floor beside him. “Are you the Mand’alor?”

“No. That’s Fenn Shysa. He stepped out.” For a few seconds the only sound was the whir and beep of the machines.

“I’m Leia.”

“I know.”

“And you are…?”

“Boba Fett, of Clan Skirata.” He looked up at the bandaged figure on the stretcher. “Kad is my brother.”

“We owe Kad a great deal,” she said quietly. “His bravery saved the life of every person on General Huon’s ship.”

“I wish he knew that.” His words were sharp, and bitter.

“Maybe he will. You can’t give up hope.”

“Hope,” he repeated, “is a sun. Look at it too much, and it blinds you.”

“That sounds like a quote.”

“Something my father used to say.” He shifted. He was getting a little stiff from sitting on the floor. “You don’t have to stay. I’ll tell Fenn you came by.”

“I’ll wait.” She tucked her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms loosely around them. “I’m sort of avoiding someone right now.”

“General Solo?”

“No.” There was a pink tinge in her cheeks that lent credence to some of the rumors currently circulating through the rebel ranks. “Luke Skywalker.”

“The Jedi.”

“He’s...my brother.” She clutched her hands a little tighter. “We were adopted by different families and only found out recently. Very recently.” Her gaze drifted back to the stretcher. “What’s it like, having a brother?”

“We have adoption in common,” Boba told her, and considered stopping at that. His family was not easily explained. He was Kad’s brother but sort of his uncle since Kad’s father was also a clone. Papa Kal thought it was easier to raise them as brothers.  “I’m twelve years older than he is. It was always my job to look after him.”

“It seems like you still are.”

His right hand was was resting against the floor, and he curled it into a fist and pressed his knuckles into the unyielding surface. “Not very well.”

“Fate comes for all of us in the end,” she said. “In spite of our best efforts.”

“Is that a quote?”

“It was something my mother used to say. To remind me of who I was. Or who she said I was.”

"Who she was" was a rebel leader, and after the largest and most successful rebel offense in the war, she was sitting here with him.“You should go,” he told her. “You’ll be missed at the celebration.”

"I'd rather stay here, if it's okay with you." She smiled tightly. “I don’t feel like celebrating right now. And no one can say anything to me if I’m holding the hand of a wounded soldier.” Her eyes cut to Kad’s bandaged hands. “In a manner of speaking.”

“I bruised two ribs,” Boba offered lightly and held out his hand. Leia Organa gave him a wry look. Then, to his surprise, she tucked her hand into his. He wished now he’d taken his gloves off. They were probably filthy. “Fenn went to get a drink. Could be a while. Could be all night.”

“That’s all right,” she murmured, scooting back a little and resting her head against the wall. “I’ll wait with you.”

Chapter Text

PROMPT: A Fett/Leia AU where the genders are switched. 

She was in her usual spot. Close enough to Jabba that she had a good view of anyone who approached the Hutt. Not so close that she could be easily seen. Bo shifted her weight, bracing one foot against the rough adobe walls and listened to Jabba snore.

Bo found that the first two hours after the Hutt went to sleep was when most of the business at the palace got done. Deals were made. New crews were formed. The dancers got high on spice and talkative.

A movement in the shadows caught the peripheral lens in her helmet and she cursed softly when she saw who was about to approach her. The latest addition to the throne room, Prince Lein Organa. Only hours ago he entered the palace in disguise, and attempted to free his boyfriend, Han Solo. His failure made him a prisoner, his royal status made him Jabba’s new novelty pet.

Jabba had him dressed in a pair of skin-tight breeches and flimsy boots. His chest was left bare under a heavy plate necklace and matching plates curved around his wrists. Finally a thick metal collar was fastened around his throat. Not a stun collar. This one had a long chain leash, something more for Jabba to play with.

As the prince moved closer to her, Bo could see that he was holding the chain up off the floor so it wouldn’t drag and disturb the Hutt. “We meet again,” he said in his soft core accent.

“Your highness.” Her tone was deliberately mocking.

He didn’t pause for a second. “Lein, please.”

“What do you want? I’m busy.”

“Yes. You look busy.” He replied dryly. He toyed with his chain, swinging it back and forth a little. “Am I correct in assuming that you’re a Mandalorian?”

Bo snorted, knowing the sound could be heard even through her helmet. “You are not.”

“You wear the armor though. And the helmet. You even have that symbol on your shoulder guard, the uh-”

“Mythosaur.”

“Right. The mythosaur.” He was watching her closely. “So the name Fenn Shysa means nothing to you?”

“I know who he is.”

“Really? Because he seemed to be quite familiar with you.”

“You can’t believe anything he says,” Bo scoffed. “Especially if he’s trying to get into your pants.” She tilted her head down toward the curve of the prince’s ass. “Fenn would tell you he defeated Darth Vader in single combat to get a piece of that.”

The prince folded his arms over his naked chest and frowned. “Well, he didn’t get a piece of that. Pay attention, Bounty Hunter, I’m trying to make you very rich.”

“How generous of you.”

“Look, you know who I am. You know the kind of resources I have.”

He was so earnest. Bo tilted her head back, resting the dome of her helmet against the wall. “You want to pay me to get you out of here.”

“And Han. And Chewie.”

Bo almost laughed. It was a strange, unfamiliar feeling. “Listen, Prince. I don’t care how much you’re offering. Solo was my catch, and he wasn’t an easy one. It’s more than credits. It’s a matter of professional pride.”

“I see.” Lein looked down, threading his fingers through the dangling chain. Bo waited for him to slink away, but he raised his head just a little and looked at her with those big, earnest brown eyes. “Could you get a message to someone for me?”

“For a price?”

“Of course.” His lips curled into a faint, bemused smile. “I need a message taken to a cantina in Mos Espa. That’s all.”

A vague sense of uneasiness settled in at the base of her spine. Organa was playing some kind of game here, she was sure of it. But the only way to find out for sure was to let him record the message, and then find out who it was being sent to.

She turned and grabbed the arm of one of the passing gamorrean guards. “Unlock his chain from the dais. I’m taking him back to my room for the night.”

The human guard who was with him let out a startled “what,” and Bo turned the force her glare on him. He was new. Maybe he didn’t know who she was.

“You want to wake Jabba and ask him?” She demanded. “Or do you want to do as I say?”

The gamorrean immediately shuffled towards the dais, and the human followed reluctantly. He glanced at the prince as he passed him, and the prince moved his hand, a gesture that urged the guard to go on with his business.

How cute. He thought he was still in charge of the hired help. Once the chain released, Bo grasped his bare arm. “Let’s go talk about this message of yours,” she said.

Lien smiled at her, completely unruffled. “Looking forward to it.”

Chapter Text

PROMPT: The prompt was for the "time travel/stopping your parents from meeting" trope, which I took in...kind of a strange direction. 

Leia certainly saw her fair share of atrocities during the war, but she’d never seen anything like the Death Watch. They were a terrifying combination of brutal efficiency and complete disregard for innocent life forms. From the moment they entered the city, they killed, looted, ravaged and raped with impunity.

Worst of all, she was powerless to stop it.

Because she wasn’t supposed to be here. The Mandalorian Civil War ended a good twenty-five years before she was even born.

“Are you going to throw up? You look sick.”

She turned to look at the man beside her, covered from head to toe in Mandalorian armor. There was a time in her life when she couldn’t have guessed what Boba Fett’s face looked like under his helmet, and now she was becoming quite familiar with both.  “No.” She told him, and hoped it was the truth.

“I can take that,” he said, reaching for the sack she was carrying.

She sidestepped him. “No. It wouldn’t look right.” The sack was filled with the lightest items that could pass for loot. A little camouflage to make it seem like they were taking part of this atrocity.

Han had tried to talk her out the expedition to the ruins on Kalevala. He called it “spooky.” This was one of those rare occasions where she wished she’d listened to her husband.

She swallowed the knot in her throat and her hand ghosted over the curve of her belly. He must be frantic with worry by now. What if she couldn’t get back? What would happen if their son was born here?

“This way.” The bounty hunter turned down a narrow alley and Leia followed, the sound of blaster fire and breaking glass crawling all over her neck and spine like nails scraping across duraplast. Fett stopped so abruptly she bumped up against his jetpack. She took a step back and looked around quickly. The alley was deserted. “What’s going on?”

“I know where we are now. And exactly when we are.”

Leia let the sack rest against the ground. “Where are we?”

“Concord Dawn.” Fett sketched two lines in the dust with the toe of his boot. “Vizsla said Mereel and his men had been spotted near the farm of a Journeyman Protector. It’s about two days from here by speeder.”

“Oh.” Leia brushed a strand of hair back behind her ear and noticed how dirty her hands were. Not really a surprise after six days of traveling with a band of marauders. A woman screamed in the distance and she flinched.

The bounty hunter added a few more lines in the dirt. “The Death Watch will have to stick to the plains, but we can get there quicker through this gully.” He scuffed the marks out. “We’ll have to move fast. If they figure out where we went we’ll be trapped like womp rats.”

Leia thought, not for the first time, how much easier this whole thing would be if she wasn’t seven and half months pregnant. Not ten seconds after she arrived in this time she was surrounded by Death Watch soldiers, all highly suspicious as to how a well-dressed pregnant woman ended up in their camp. One of them put his hands on her shoulders from behind and she elbowed him in the throat, only to have another soldier shove her and a third grab her by the hair.

She cried out and doubled over as his fingers tore at her scalp and then suddenly released. Suddenly, because he’d just been stabbed in the side. “Touch her again, and I’ll cut off your fingers,” rasped a voice above her and when she looked up she saw a collection of armor and plates that were both familiar and utterly impossible.

Boba Fett.

He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her away, and because the others seemed inclined to leave him be, Leia went with him. “Where the hell are we?” He hissed. “What did you do?”

“I don’t know! One minute I was standing in the ruins and now I’m here. What are you doing here? I thought you were dead. Wait. Am I dead?”

“You’re not dead and neither am I. I don’t know where we are are, but these people...they’re Death Watch.”

“I thought they vanished during the Clone Wars.”

“All of the armor, the weapons, they’re old. Earlier than the Clone Wars. That rifle over there, it was phased out just after the Mandalorian Civil War.”

“They’re obviously not well-funded-”

“All of their gear is old. There’s no tech that isn’t at least fifty years old.”

Leia pulled her arm free. “What are you saying?”

“Something happened in the ruins. Something fekking weird.”

“What were you doing at the ruins anyway?”

“I was working. Does it matter now? We have to stay alive long enough to figure out where we are and how we got here.”

The landscape around the camp was barren. There was no sign of a town or a comm tower. No easy way to slip out of the camp unnoticed.  “Does that mean…”

“I think so,” he replied grimly.

“We have to join the Death Watch.”

From that moment on, in spite of their past differences, Fett become her protector. For six days they laid low, sleeping in a fetid tent with six other soldiers and eating meals served to them by gaunt captive slaves. Leia was more than ready to escape. But the timing had to be perfect. Too much depended on it.

“Maybe we should wait until we’re closer to a major settlement,” she suggested. “Even if we manage to warn this Jaster Mereel, we’re still stuck out in the middle of nowhere.”

The bounty hunter shook his head. “We’re going tonight. We have to reach that farm before Vizsla does.”

“Why?”

“Because when he gets there he’s going to kill the journeyman and his wife. He’s going to take his daughter captive. His son will escape.” Fett leaned closer to her. “It’s my grandfather’s farm.”

“Oh kriff.” Leia dropped the sack completely and leaned against the nearest wall. “We could save them. But...what if you change your family’s history? If you change it here, could…” She wasn’t sure what exactly tipped her off. Some subtle change in his body language. She supposed that after three days of white-knuckled subterfuge, she’d learned to read him pretty well. “Wait. Are you trying to change it?”

He took a step back, and adjusted the shoulder strap on his rifle. “If my dad doesn’t lose his family, maybe he’ll stay there. Maybe he’ll take over the family farm and live a long, happy life.”

“But then he’ll never go to Kamino and spawn a clone army.” Leia grabbed his arm, just above his armored bracer. “Do you have idea how many things that could change? How many people might not be born, or…” It hit her then. “You won’t exist!”

Fett jerked his arm away. “And I’ll never have to watch him die.”

“You can’t seriously be considering this!”

He moved forward, backing her into the wall. “Lower your godsdamn voice.”

“Boba…” She’d never used his first name before, but now she desperately needed him to listen. “Please think this through. You could change everything. You could change the entire galaxy.”

He made a dismissive noise. “You’re worried about your 'New Republic.'”

“Yes! Of course I am! But I also don’t want you to erase yourself and millions of others from the galaxy. You don’t know what could happen!” She put her hands on the breastplate of his armor and then laid a palm on either side of his helmet. “Look at me. Neither of us wanted to be here, but we’re here and we’re like family now. I could be one of the people you erase. Is that really want you want?”

Her belly was pushed up against him, and her son, perhaps sensing her agitation, picked that moment to kick. Fett jerked, and she knew he felt it. “You could erase him too,” she said, lowering her hand to his and bringing it against her belly.

He was still, and she couldn’t hear him breathing but she could see the rapid rise and fall of his chest. Then he pulled his hand away and stepped back. “Someone’s coming.”

Two Death Watch soldiers entered the alley at the far end, one of them hauling a large slab of cured meat. “Everything all right?” Questioned the taller of the two as they approached. “I thought I heard your woman yelling.”

“And that makes it your business?” Fett replied coldly.

“All right, all right.” The tall one stopped, and his friend with the meat turned back. “Big party tonight. The townswomen are cooking for us. Hot food! Real beds! Vizsla will have a hard time getting us back on the trail tomorrow.”

Leia kept her eyes on Fett as they retreated.

“You don’t even know if we can go back,” he said finally.

“No, I don’t.” She reached over and took his hand again, her fingers threading through his. “But if we can’t...at least we’ll still be together."

Chapter Text

PROMPT: A Roleswap AU requested by Freddieinwonderland where Leia is the bounty hunter and Boba is the prince. 

 Leia had seen her fair share of prisons, from one end of the galaxy to the other, but Mandalorian prisons were the worst.

The cells were underground, dug into the earth long ago. Someone had put up duraplast panels to keep the prisoners from tunneling out, but they weren’t sealed properly, and every time one of the guards walked over in the room above, a shower of dust fell right onto the bed.

The bed was bolted for the floor, so Leia did the only thing she could do and pulled the thin pallet off the frame. The floor was hard and filthy, but at least she wasn’t woken every shift change by dirt falling on her head.

To pass the time during the day she paced. Ten paces to the far wall and back. Sometimes she turned ninety degrees at five paces and walked from the bars to the back wall. That was six paces. She kept inventing new patterns, trying to memorize long sequences of pacing.

Trying not to go crazy.

She was six patterns into a twelve-set sequence when the dirt starting filtering down from the ceiling and she stopped, facing the back wall. Funny. She could have sworn the shift change had already happened. Was this a sign that she was starting to lose it?

The door above the cells opened, and she heard boots on the stairs. Not the brisk steps of the guards. Slow. A visitor. She turned and walked five paces to the bars just as a man in full Mandalorian armor reached the bottom stair. Her excitement quickly became dread.

“What an honor,” she said with biting sarcasm. “The prince of Mandalore.”

“I’m not a prince.” He stood on the other side of the bars, his face hidden behind his helmet. “I’m the chieftain's son. And you’re the thief who was dumb enough to steal from MandalMotors.”

Leia raised her chin defiantly. “I’m not a thief. I’m a bounty hunter.”

“You’re bounty hunter until you get caught by the people you were hired to steal from. Then you’re just a thief. You really think KDY will bail you out?”

If he was trying to trick her into giving up the name of her client, he was going to have to do better than that. Leia folded her arms over her chest and glared him through the bars. After a minute of stiff silence, the chieftain's son raised his hands to his helmet and removed it.

Leia, who hadn’t seen a helmetless head in nearly two months, found herself devouring his dark coloring and sober features. She lingered the longest on his eyes, dark and bright, passive and alert.

To her surprise, he sat on the dirty floor outside the bars with his legs outstretched, his helmet on his lap. “Fenn Shysa said you put up quite a fight in the vault.” He reached into his belt and pulled out a small flask. “I think he was ready to adopt you on the spot, but my dad wouldn’t let him. The Empire has a stake in MandalMotors now, and they don’t have the same soft spot for thieves that Fenn does.”

He opened the flask, and Leia could smell the alcohol immediately. Fek, what she wouldn’t give for a drink.

But maybe he knew that. Those sharp brown eyes couldn’t be trusted. The Mandalorian leaned forward and slipped the flask between the bars, indicating with a nod that she could take it. Leia stayed where she was.

“It’s tihaar,” he said. “I’m offering you a drink, because I’m going to offer you a job. And I want you to say ‘yes.’”

Leia blinked at him, and then her mouth twisted into a cautious smile. “You’re blunt. I like that.”

“My name is Boba Fett.”

“I’m guessing you know my name.” She looked at the flask in his hand and resisted the urge to wet her lips. “Is this one of those games where I reach for it and then you pull it back at the last second?”

His hand didn’t move, but something flickered in his eyes. “Has someone been doing that to you?”

“Not here.” Well, why not? She slowly grasped the top of the flask, and he released it to her. The fumes made her eyes water, but she took a hefty swallow and relished the burn in the back of her throat. “Oh. Fek.” She closed her eyes. “That’s good.”

“Your last name is Organa. That’s an unusual name.”

Her eyes opened and she took another swig from the flask. Drink or no drink, she definitely couldn’t trust this barve.

“You’re not related to the royal family on Alderaan, are you?”

She laughed. “Do I look like I’m some kind of princess?”

“Not in those clothes.”

“This is a prison issued uniform, pal. If you don’t like it, take it up with the people upstairs.” She took a deep breath, enjoying the warmth that was seeping into her blood. “I don’t know how I got my name. I was left at an orphanage on Basilisk when I was two, and that was the name on my paperwork.”

“That would have been...seventeen years ago?”

“Yeah, about that.”

“That would be the same year that Breha and Bail Organa were arrested and executed as traitors.”

“Traitors?”

“They were accused of plotting against the Emperor.” Fett rubbed at the dome of his helmet with his thumb, as if trying to erase a mark. “My dad still did some mercenary work in those days. He was contacted by Darth Vader himself. Lord Vader was looking for a little girl. The daughter of Bail and Breha Organa.”

Maybe it was the alcohol, but Leia had the strangest feeling. As if she was standing in front of a holoprojector, watching a woman dressed as a servant rush down a city street, a large bundle in her arms. She could feel the woman’s fear. “W-why...why would Vader care about their daughter?”

“My dad never found out.”

Leia thrust the flask back at him. This was some kind of game. It had to be. “Why are you telling me this?”

“I told you. I have job for you.” He took the flask back, closed it with a flick of his fingers and tucked it away. “I want you to help me break into an Imperial Security Center on Scarif and steal the plans to a weapon the Empire is building.”

Chapter Text

PROMPT: This was a prompt for Cyborg!Boba with Slicer!Leia in his head.

Operating on your own head is, in all circumstances, a very bad idea. Even for a cyborg. Even for Boba Fett, who has been servicing his own implants and enhancers for years. He knows better. And he ould never undertake any kind of complex cranial procedure in any but the most dire circumstances.

Which is why he is now sitting on the floor of his ship with his head at an uncomfortable angle, trying to insert a fully charged cleanmod into his center cortex implant.

His neck aches, and sweat has soaked the back of his shirt. Every time he gets the mode jacks synced, the connector jumps to a different frequency, an act of self-preservation by an AI virus who calls herself L.

She’s been hiding in the implant for weeks, running behind the processors, but only yesterday she breached the cortex. Now she has had full access to his visual and auditory enhancers, not to mention complete control over his cybernetic left arm, which is why it is currently detached and lying on the floor beside him.

Did I mention that he’s trying to operate on himself one-handed?

The only thing she hasn’t had access to are his client datafiles, because in addition to being cyborg, Boba is also a very clever bounty hunter. His client files require both a coded protocol and a biometric handprint, ensuring that no slicer can breach them from the outside, and no fellow mercenary can gain them by cutting off his hand.

Trust me, it happens more often than you might think.

As his sits there, breathing hard and waiting for the right moment, the HUD display in his cybernetic visor blinks. Words begin to run down the right side of the display.

Come on

“Burn in hell,” he replies through gritted teeth. It can be said with certainty that he truly regrets the decision to buy this implant from a salvager on Dantooine, but the fact of the matter is, L was nearly undetectable. Someone spent a lot of money and time on her.

One datafile

That’s all I’m asking for

“Shut up.”

You always look down at the floor

Your pulse increases

He’ll never know

There’s no reason to be afraid

“I’m not afraid.” The moment he speaks he regrets speaking. L is a program. A bot. There’s no point in arguing with her.

You’re afraid of everything

That’s why you’re still alive

He’s determined to shut her out, to keep his mind on his task. If the cleanmod interfaces correctly with the cortex, it should disrupt any outside links. He carefully reaches for nuron recharger without looking at it. A disruption in the cortex power grid should shake L long enough to sync the clean mod.

Your heart rate just picked up

What’s going on

The recharger is connected. This is no longer an operation, but a form of self-torture. Boba doesn’t hesitate. He grabs the surge switch and yanks it down. Power blasts through his cortex, his limbs convulsing as every connector goes into overdrive.

Imagine electrocuting yourself by touching a charged wire. Now imagine that the wire is inside of you.

Boba

He’s panting now, facedown on the scarred metal floor. I’ll spare you from the vulgarity of the language he uses.

Stop

This is dangerous

L’s AI is a real piece of work. He would love to meet and personally murder the bullshit artist who designed it. He slowly pulls himself up off the floor until he’s sitting again. His stomach rolls unpleasantly as he reaches for the recharger again.

I don’t want you to hurt yourself

He stops because his hand is shaking too badly. Not because she wants him to. “You can’t want anything. You’re a program.”

Well

I wasn’t going to tell you this

But the program is only the ship

I’m the pilot

And I’m a real person

A few feet from where Boba sits is an old metal container, dented, but reflective enough that he can see himself in it. He used to wear Mandalorian armor like his father. He practically lived in it. He’s spent so much time, sweat and blood making himself a living suit of armor that he never has to take off.

To have his fortress invaded, his every action exposed...

Not to a program, but to a real person. Some fidgety little slicer.

The strongest feeling he has is shame.

He should be better than this.

You don’t have to do anything right now, okay

Can we talk

“About what?”

Maybe about the porn you were watching when I first broke in

That was a joke

We don’t have to talk about that

Interesting that you prefer your metal hand

But we don’t have to talk about it

Boba looks at his rifle, propped up against the wall a few feet away. He knows L will see it.

Nooooo

Don’t go there

“I want you out of my head,” he says it slowly, the words rasping in his throat.

I know

But have some consideration

For the time and effort I put into this

“For you the time and effort you wasted. I won’t give you the file on Vader.”

Then we should talk

About what else you can give me

You seem resourceful

“If you want my services, you have to pay me.”

I know you can’t hear me

But I just sighed

“There’s two ways this ends. Either you leave on your own, or I remove you.”

Let’s compromise

You give me one thing

One piece of information

And I’ll leave

“You won’t leave.”

I’m a slicer

Not a liar

You can run the cleanmod safely after I’m gone

To keep me from coming back

Or maybe

You would like for me to come back

So you don’t have to talk to yourself so much

He laughs then, a cracked and disbelieving sound. “You’re crazy.”

Is it a deal or not

He leans forward, resting his head against his hand. He wonders if he has a choice. “What do you want?”

Nothing much

Just Vader’s real name

Chapter Text

PROMPT: The premise for this AU came from Alyyks. :)

The stars blurred into long pale streaks as the Millennium Falcon entered hyperspace. Leia immediately unsnapped her seat harness and left the cockpit, unable to take the grim silence any longer.

It was bad enough for Chewie to have lapsed into brooding quiet, but Lando? Lando was the optimist, the one who was dead certain from the beginning that this plan would succeed.

They’d come so kriffing close.

After months of chasing Boba Fett from one backwater world to the next, one of her rebel contacts reported that Slave I had docked on Falleen for repairs. Her heart nearly stopped when she entered the docking bay and saw the ship they’d been chasing for so long.

Lando greased enough palms with the docking authorities to learn that repairs had halted when the bounty hunter suddenly left. No one knew where he’d gone, but they knew the ship was locked down with a remote security monitor that would blow a hole in the docking bay if an unauthorized person tried to force entry.

That was when one of the docking agents offhandedly mentioned that Fett had unloaded his cargo into storage facility while the ship was under repair, and his rent was due. A little more grease on the right palms, and they opened the unit to find a carbonite-encased man...who was not Han Solo.

In fact, he was currently huddled up on one of the bunks aboard the Falcon, with a blanket wrapped tightly around him. He was frozen wearing nothing but his undershorts, he had no ID and no credits to his name. It seemed cruel to leave him on Falleen.

“Hey,” she said as she entered the bunkroom. “How are you?”

“Still blind.”

“That’s normal. Your eyesight should return in twenty-four to forty-eight hours.”

“Great.” He leaned his head against the wall, his expression grim. He was in his thirties, with close-cut dark hair and smooth tan skin.

“At least you’re alive. Fett could have killed you.” She sat down on the bunk opposite him. “From what I’ve heard, he’s not too careful about the welfare of his prisoners.”

He continued staring straight ahead, but a muscle jumped in his jaw.

“I didn’t mean for that to sound flippant. I can’t imagine how terrifying it must have been to be frozen. I saw it happen to someone recently and I still have nightmares.”

“That’s a good word for it.”

“What is?”

“A nightmare.”

He was shivering. Another side effect of hibernation sickness. Leia stood and took the blanket off her bunk. “I’m Leia, by the way. I introduced myself earlier, but you were a little out of it.”

“Did I give you my name?”

“Yes. Baal, right?” It stood out to her because it was so similar to her father’s name. “I have another blanket here,” she said as she approached him. “You need to keep your body temperature up.”

She knelt on the bunk and laid the blanket around his shoulders. As she pulled back, the side of her hand brushed his cheek and he jerked as if it burned. “Skin sensitivity is another side effect,” she said. “I’ve got some ointment I can-”

“Give it to me. I’ll do it.” He sounded like he was grinding his teeth together to keep them from chattering.

She retrieved the small tube and pressed it into his trembling hand. “Are you sure you don’t need help?”

He shook his head, but it quickly became obvious that his hands weren’t steady enough to even open it.

“Give me that.”

Leia knelt on the bunk again and squirted some of the soothing gel onto her fingers. “I’m going to start at the top and work my way down.” She dabbed the gel on the back of his neck, just below his hairline. He tensed again, but didn’t try to pull away. “Try to stay covered as much as possible. I’ll reach under the blankets when I need to.”

His head dropped against the wall again. “You know a lot about hibernation sickness for someone who isn’t a medic.”

“How do you know I’m not a medic?”

A pause. “Just a guess. Are you?”

“No.” She rubbed in gentle circles down to where the tendons in his neck joined the muscle in his shoulders. “I’m not a professional masseuse either, in case you hadn’t picked up on that.” She climbed around the bunk to face him, and dabbed a little bit of gel on his forehead. “The man I saw frozen in carbonite...Fett will deliver him to Jabba the Hutt unless we can stop him.”

He was silent, but still shivering as she traced the lines of his nose and cheekbones with the ointment. “How does that feel? Better?”

“Better.”

She worked her way down over his chin and down his throat, and she saw him swallow. Well, it was a little awkward being this close to a stranger, even if he couldn’t see her.

“The man you were looking for. What did he do?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why was Fett taking him to Jabba?”

“Oh. Some kind of debt. I don’t really want to know the details. Han used to be a smuggler.”

“If he was a smuggler for Jabba, it was probably spice.”

“It could have been.” She leaned closer and slipped her fingers beneath the blanket, rubbing the gel into his shoulder and down his arm. Baal shifted again, clearly uncomfortable.

“It doesn’t bother you?” He asked. “That your friend used to smuggle spice for a crimelord?”

“Of course it bothers me.” She spread more gel on her fingers and nudged his knee with her elbow. “Can you straighten your legs out? Just...there.” She braced her own knee between his, straddling his thigh to give her a better position on the narrow bunk as she started rubbing his opposite shoulder and arm.

His head thumped against the wall again, and he briefly shut his eyes.

“I promise this will feel a lot better soon. Your skin will feel less sensitive, and you’ll be warmer.”

Baal muttered something under his breath that sounded like a curse.

“So if you don’t mind my asking, what did you do to get a ride in Fett’s cargo hold?”

He gave a rough, half-laugh. “I fell in love. Once. A long time ago.”

“That sounds like quite a story.” Leia dabbed some of the ointment onto the left side of his chest and worked it down around to his side. She was nearly hugging him now, and she could feel how cold his skin still was, and the quicker-than-normal rise of his chest.

“I’m...a cargo pilot. I don’t run spice, but the stuff I transport isn’t always legal.” He shifted back a little. “I was on my way to deliver my cargo, and I ran into my ex-wife. She needed a payday badly. And I had one.”

Leia sat up in surprise. “Your ex-wife stole your cargo?”

“My own stupid fault. I let my guard down. I-” He stopped talking abruptly.

“Kriff. I’m sure your employer wasn’t too happy about that.” Leia paused and studied his face. “I’m sorry,” she said, a little more soberly. “No one deserves to be hurt like that. Especially by someone they love.”

He didn’t even try to deny it.

Leia squeezed out more gel and went back to work. “I don’t suppose you heard anything about Fett changing ships before you were frozen?”

He shook his head. “Not about changing ships. But when we were on the way to the carbon freezing facility, I heard him asking one of the techs about back routes through the Abrion sector.”

“Abrion sector? That’s...interesting.” Maybe he was trying a more evasive route. “Well, I hope he likes his new ship. I get the feeling his old one is destined for the scrap yard.”

“What...makes you say that?”

“Well, the docking authorities aren’t going to keep it forever. The dock manager said he has another week to settle up before they bring in the salvage droids.”

“Oh.” Baal shuddered and wrapped the blanket a little tighter around himself. Leia laid her hand on his forehead. “Clammy. But that’s good. Sweating is a good sign.”

“I’ll remember that,” he said, hunching his shoulders. “Your crew here...did I hallucinate a wookiee?”

“No. That’s Chewie. And Lando is the pilot.”

“That’s it? Just three? No droids or anything?”

“It’s not that big a ship,” she replied dryly. “Or that fancy a ship. Usually it has a crew of two.”

He laid his head against the wall again. “Good to know. Thank you, Leia.” The corners of his mouth turned up just slightly. “For everything.”

Chapter Text

PROMPT: Boba is a slave owned by Jabba the Hutt, Leia frees him. 

“Well, that was...enlightening.”

Leia looked over at Mon Mothma and stifled a laugh. “Yes. Yes it was.”

Her friend sighed as they moved through the shadowy corridor. “I’m afraid I dragged us out here for nothing.” A pair of Jawas scurried by, and Mon waited until they passed. “It’s clear Jabba has no love for the Empire. But this is little more than a crime syndicate. There’s no foundational government to even build on.”

“We had to check it out. To refuse the invitation only would have made things worse.” Leia shook her head. “Can you imagine what life must be like for people who have to live here?”

“No. I truly can’t.” Mon Mothma stopped. “Your mother is going to very displeased with me, you know. I told her this would be a routine ‘diplomatic mission’ for the senate with the usual covert agenda for the alliance. I had no idea we were going to be forced to watch men fight to the death.”

“Maybe we just shouldn’t mention it?”

“This is Breha Organa we’re speaking of. She’ll find out somehow.”

Leia knew the older woman was right. “Did it seem odd to you and Jabba would allow the captain of his guard to fight in four consecutive matches?”
“Yes. Very odd indeed. One would think he wouldn’t risk a valuable staff member. Perhaps Jabba believes him to be invincible?”

“It…almost seemed to me that Jabba wanted to see him fail.”

“Well, I’m afraid that’s the least of our concerns. Here’s my room. Perhaps we could debrief over breakfast?”

“That’s fine.” Leia was tired too. One of the great, shuffling gamorrean guards passed by and stopped to bow to her. Leia nodded politely in return and opened her door, only to be faced with Jabba’s captain of the guard, the same man she saw kill four other beings not an hour ago, and her first thought was panic.

She quickly noticed, however, that he was without his armor and weapons. He was wearing a loose white shirt over dark pants, and his short dark hair was wet, as if he’d just come from a shower. He bowed to her. “Your Highness.”

“Captain.”

“His excellency, Jabba the Hutt, sent me to ensure that you are comfortable in your quarters, and that you have no need left unmet.”

Leia was sure she would be a lot more comfortable without a strange man in her quarters, but she had to remember that this was a different culture. “Yes, thank you.” She folded her hands in front of her and waited for him to leave, but he gazed back placidly at her without moving.

“That was...a very impressive demonstration earlier,” Leia said, trying to work towards some kind of farewell. “You’re quite a fighter.”

“I enjoy fighting.” he said it with the same lack of expression.

“It surprised me that you would enter such a match, given your position. You must be very confident in your skills.”

One eyebrow raised just slightly. “If my master wishes for me to fight, then I fight.”

Heat crawled up the back of her neck. She felt stupid for not seeing it before. “You’re a slave.”

There was the slightest flicker in his eyes before he dropped his gaze to the floor. “Yes.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude. I haven’t interacted with that many cultures where slavery is practiced.”

He looked up, his jaw tight. “My name is Boba Fett. I’ve been a slave here since I was a child. I serve at Jabba’s pleasure and I fight for his amusement. Is there anything else you would like to know?”

“Only if you’re willing to tell me.” Leia sat down on the edge of bed and kicked off her shoes, while the captain watched her silently. When he fought earlier he wore a mismatched set of combat armor, and a helmet that covered his face. Even without his armor, Fett had a dangerous look about him, and even without his helmet his face was still a mask.

“You’re Jabba’s honored guest. If you have questions, I’ll do my best to answer them.”

“There are lots of things I’m curious about,” she admitted. “But most of them are related to the socio-economic state of the Hutt empire.”

The corners of his mouth turned up just slightly. “It’s a gungan shield generator. It looks shiny and impenetrable, but the inside is full of slime.”

Leia laughed. “That’s very descriptive. A gungan shield generator. Are you from Naboo?”

“No. I traveled around a lot with my father. Before I came here.”

“How did you come here?”

“My father died in the Clone Wars, and he was the only the family I had. I was taken prisoner by the separatists, and then sold. Jabba used to do business with my dad, so…” He shrugged.

Leia smoothed her hands over the cover on the bed. It was made out of soft, knotted strings. “Can I ask a personal question?”

His shoulders lifted and fell in a silent sigh, but his face remained impassive. “Yes.”

“Was your father a clone?”

His mouth twisted. “My father was the template. I’m the clone.”

“But you’re so young. How-”

“I’m thirty. Most of the clones would be without accelerated aging.”

“I never thought about it like that.” Leia couldn’t help but feel that she was staring a living piece of history. “I’ve seen holos, and of course you look just like them, but...I never thought I would run into one out here.”

“Your lucky day.”

“Thank you for answering my questions.”

He shifted his weight. “Are you done asking questions? I would prefer not to be here all night.”

“Oh. Of course, I’m sorry. Please, tell Jabba I appreciate his hospitality, and I’m very comfortable.”

He stared at her as if she’d said something very surprising.

“Was that-”

“You want me to leave?”

“You just said-”

“ Fierfek.” He ran a hand over his hair. “I knew Bib got it wrong, that ass-faced fool.”

“Got what wrong?”

“He told Jabba you wanted to fuck me.”

Leia laughed, and then realized he wasn’t joking. “Wait, what?”

“He said you were impressed by my performance and wanted to know more about me. But you obviously didn’t mean it like that. I mean, look at you.” He gestured at her. “You don’t need to order any man into your bed.”

“...Thank you? I would never-” The realization hit her all at once and left her cold. “Does he...have you been asked to do this before?”

Just like that, the mask dropped back over his face. “A slave is never asked.”

“Oh.”

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness. I hope the rest of your stay is enjoyable.” He bowed and turned to go.

“Boba, wait.” She jumped off the bed and grabbed his forearm to stop him. He stopped, and his arm turned to stone beneath her hand. He slowly raised his eyes and she could feel with every fiber of her being how badly he wanted to throw her off. “Change your mind?” He asked, his solicitous tone betrayed by the seething heat in his eyes.

Leia pulled her hand back and swallowed. “Would Jabba sell you?”

“To you?”

“Yes.”

Boba looked as if he were adding something up in his mind. “Maybe. He thinks you’re going to offer him a governorship. Because he’s an idiot.”

“I want to free you.”

He looked at her, clearly wary. “Why?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do. You could come back to Alderaan with me, if you have nowhere else to go.”

“And do what?”

“You can fight,” she told him. “Not for a master. For yourself. And for others.”

Chapter Text

PROMPT: An AU with Pacifist!Mando Leia and Traditional!Mando Boba. Requested by Zadie. 

Leia where are you?

Buir is worried

Check in

“Osik,” Leia lifted her face off her pillow and slammed her hand down on her commlink, dragging it to her. “I swear, I’m gone for a few hours-”

“Four.”

“What?” She turned her head to stare at the man in bed with her. “It can’t have been that long.”

Boba Fett shrugged and let his hand drift up her naked back and tangle in her unraveling braids. “Check the chrono.”

“Arrgh. Audio only,” she said, and her commlink chirped in response. “Message to Luke on channel 116438. I’m fine. I’m out with friends. Having fun. You should try it. Send.” She dropped the commlink on the bed. “I should really go. Buir might get suspicious-”

Her commlink chirped again.

You went to the sparring matches on Concord Dawn again didn’t you?

Buir wants to know if you’re with Jango Fett’s son

Leia tilted her commlink to show the message to Boba. “I guess she’s a little more than suspicious.”

He snorted and shook his head.

She needs to know

“Why?” Leia wondered aloud. “You know what, fuck this.” She sat up and pulled the sheet up under her arms for modesty’s sake. “Copy channel, full link.” Boba sighed heavily and dragged a corner of the sheet over his midsection as her brother’s hologram appeared.

“Haar’chak!” He complained, holding up his hand. “I don’t need to see that.”

“Then stop kriffing comming me!”

A second figure appeared in the recorder’s range, a tall, willowy woman with pale blond hair threaded with gray. “Oh, so you are with him. Hello, Boba.” She said it frostily, and Boba grimaced and gave a little wave in reply.

“Duchess.”

Leia’s mother turned her head to address someone out of the recorder’s range. “I’m afraid I owe you an apology, Jango. You were right.” A third person stepped into the holograph and Leia nearly dropped the commlink.

Now it was Boba’s turn to sit up and pull the sheet higher. “Dad?”

“Boba. I’ve been trying to reach you.”

“Unlike some people, I actually turn my commlink off.” He gave Leia a meaningful stare and she elbowed him in the side. He dropped back down on the bed with an “ow.”

Leia turned her attention back to her mother. The fact that she was standing in the same room as Jango Fett seemed like a bad sign. “Buir, is something wrong?”

“I’m afraid so.” She glanced at Luke. “Are we quite sure about the security of this line?” Her brother nodded emphatically. “Commander Rishtar came to see me this morning. It seems the Empire is working on a new weapon, something very important to the Emperor. He never directly confirmed it, but I believe it could be a second Death Star. And they want to build it here. Darth Vader himself will be coming to oversee the construction.”

Leia cast a horrified look at Boba, who pulled himself up on his elbow, his expression grim.

“Jango and I have certainly had our differences, but on this front, we are united. The Empire must not be allowed to acquire such a weapon again.” Satine dropped her eyes and sighed. “You know I would never condone any means of violence, but I believe we have the opportunity to sabotage their operations and save countless lives in the process. And there is an additional consideration.” Here she looked at Luke first, and then Leia.

“When Obi-Wan brought you to me twenty-two years ago, he told me that I must, at all costs, keep you away from the Empire and especially from Darth Vader. I cannot leave the city without raising suspicions, but if you and your brother had a reason to go stay on Concord Dawn for a while...Jango has given me his word that you will be protected. So…” She folded her hands in front of her and looked inquiringly at Leia. “I know you’ve been sneaking out to these sparring matches for several months and obviously honing your beskad skills is not your sole motivation. Do you intend to marry Boba? Or is this just some rebellious fling to underscore our many, many disagreements?”

“Buir,” Leia protested. “This isn’t really the time or the place-”

“Ordinarily, I would agree. But Jango holds a more traditional view of these things,” she said as the Mandalorian chieftain folded his arms over his armored chest, “and he’s not terribly pleased that you’ve debauched his son.”

While Leia was speechless with outrage, Boba nudged her leg with his elbow, a wicked gleam in his dark eyes. “That’s exactly the word I would use. You debauched me, you pacifist slut.”

“I. Will. Murder. You.” She hissed back him, before turning her attention back to the hologram. “The first time we met, your perfect son went down on me in a rusk field forty minutes after I knocked him on his ass in the sparring ring, so don’t you dare try to pull that Concord Dawn ‘traditional values’ osik .”

“In my defense,” Boba said mildly. “I also married you the same night.”

“And that’s another thing! We’re already married!”

“What?!?” Her mother’s composure dropped completely, while Jango's head jerked up in surprise and Luke rolled his eyes.

“Of course you are,” her brother sighed.

“Leia.” Satine held a hand to her heart. “You got married? Without telling me? How?”

“We did it old way. With the old vows, and just one witness.”

“Who?” Jango demanded.

“Fenn Shysa.”

“Of course,” Jango and Satine both said at once. Jango shook his head and muttered something under his breath.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Her mother continued. “I’m sure you knew I wouldn’t approve, but I would never forbid you.”

“I know. I just…” Leia looked at Boba, but the gesture he made suggested she was on her own. “We...kind of thought we might have made a mistake? We were both a little drunk, and…”

“Tired,” Boba said helpfully. “Very tired. From sparring.”

“Yes, from sparring,” she repeated, narrowing her eyes at him. “So we decided to take it slow and see what happened.”

“There was also the added advantage of not having to deal with any of this,” Boba added, glancing at his father.

“Haar’chak,” Jango said drily. “There goes my leverage.”

Satine gave him a sharp look. “Somehow I thought there might be more at stake here than your son’s virtue.”

“The offer still stands,” he returned evenly. “We’ll keep them hidden. But consider what I said. We have to be prepared.”

Satine nodded warily. “We will be. We have to be.”

Chapter Text

PROMPT: Pretty much what it says in the chapter title. Requested by NyeLung.

The first thing he saw was light. Cool, blue light, the hallmark of med centers everywhere. Breathing hurt. Blinking hurt. Everything hurt.

“Oh. You’re awake.”

A woman’s voice. He tried to search for her, but he couldn’t turn his head. His neck was locked into place, and he caught a strong, unmistakable odor in the air. Bacta tank.

Well, that made sense.

A dark shape appeared, surrounded by blue light and he blinked furiously, in spite of the pain.

“Please don’t die,” the woman said in a dull tone. “You’ve almost died several times. It makes them very...tense.”

His vision was slowly clearing. The woman was small and pale, with a shaved head. She wore simple gray robes and metal bands around her wrists and throat. She looked so different, it took him a moment to recognize her.

The princess. Leia Organa.

He tried to say her name, which he intended to follow with some variation on “where the kriff am I,” but he couldn’t speak. The brace that was keeping his face above the bacta was also keeping his jaw from opening.

“I’m sure you have a lot of questions,” she said. “And since you can’t ask them, I’ll try to guess what they might be.” She paused, and she closed her eyes, her breathing even. “I’m sure you’ve noticed you are no longer in the belly of the sarlacc, being digested over a thousand years. You’re in a secure med facility aboard an Imperial Star Destroyer. And you’re a prisoner. Like me.”

She opened her eyes and touched the metal bands on her wrists. “My location and respiratory rate are tracked at all times. And this, of course-” she touched the band at the throat, “-standard stun collar. Don’t worry. You’ll get one.”

Thousands of questions were flooding his mind at once, it was maddening to not even be able to give voice to one.

“I’m trying to decide,” she admitted. “Which question should be first. Why am I here? Or why are you here?” She gazed at him for a moment, pondering, then shrugged. “Might as well start with me. Not long after your tumble into the pit of Carkoon, the rebellion launched an offensive to destroy the second Death Star before its completion. It was...unsuccessful.” There were bright tears shining in her eyes, but she kept going in the same calm fashion. “Everyone died. Everyone except for me and Luke. Because I convinced him to run instead of fight. Just before the battle, he told me the truth that he’d only learned recently. We were twins, separated at birth to protect us from our father. Darth. Vader.” She was staring unblinkingly at the wall now. “He found us soon after. Luke died protecting me.”

She closed her eyes again, and breathed in and out. It seemed she had learned quickly how to manage the respiratory monitor. “Now let’s talk about why you’re here, instead of slowly rotting on Tatooine. What Luke told me that night was shocking, of course, but there was one part that made sense. I’ve always known...I’ve always understood that I have a certain connection to living things. I could sense danger, or deception. And sometimes, I could sense the same connection in others. I could feel it in Luke right away.”

She opened her eyes and met his. “The day I walked into Jabba’s palace, I could feel it in you. I couldn’t on Bespin, probably because I was too focused on Vader, but I felt it that day. And I know you felt it too. It destroyed all of my careful planning, because the minute I walked in, you knew who I was.”

He remembered. He argued with himself, as he often did, that it was matter of instinct and deductive reasoning. His instinct said she wasn’t the bounty hunter she claimed to be. From there, there were only so many likely candidates that the Wookiee would enlist help from. But one simple fact remained the truth. She walked into the palace and he knew her. Her presence had it’s own gravitational pull.

Her shoulders lifted and fell in a sigh. “The Force exists in all living things. But for some reason, it exists more strongly in you than the man you were cloned from, or any of his other clones. Maybe it’s the reason you’re considered to be the best at what you do. Maybe it’s why you’ve successfully tracked and killed so many Jedi.”

She leaned forward a little, watching his eyes. “That offends you, doesn’t it? You want to believe you made your life out of your own cleverness and persistence. I understand that feeling.” She tilted her head to one side. “Did you ever find yourself using it as a child, in ways that seemed perfectly normal at the time?” After a moment of silence she smiled ruefully. “Blink once for yes, twice for no?”

He blinked.

“Did you ever use it for something like...calming yourself after a bad dream, or making your vegetables taste better?”

He blinked again.

“And then one day you got caught using it, and from that point on, you learned how to hide it.”

A third blink.

She leaned forward a little further. “How did you convince the sarlacc to let you go? Did you talk to it? Did you tell it what you wanted?”

One final, slow blink.

“Well, you made an impression. In the Force, I mean. I felt it. Vader felt it. And the emperor felt it.” She dropped her eyes to the bacta tank. “The sarlacc’s acids had already started on you. And you broke a dozen bones when it...ejected you. But worst of all…” Her mouth turned up into an empty smile. “You’re going to live. Should I tell you why that’s the worst part?”

His empty stomach was churning. But he blinked.

“I thought they would kill me, once I refused to join them. But the emperor decided that I have another use. He wants to use my ovum. To create a new apprentice for himself.” She sat back a little, and closed her eyes again. Breathing. “So I gave them you. I knew where to find you, after all. I thought maybe if gave him another potential apprentice, he would kill me and leave my eggs alone.” Her eyes opened. “It took some time to retrieve you. It gave me more time with my father. I think I remind him of my mother, and of the man he once was.”

She was silent for a minute or two. “If you don’t join them, I’m afraid your position will be the same as mine. The emperor believes that the odds of conceiving a force-sensitive child would be better if both parents were strong in the force.”

Bile threatened to close his throat. The princess smiled tightly. “Do you wish now that I had left you to die on the sands of the Dune Sea?”

Even if he could speak, there were no words in any language that he knew, not even the most blistering curses, that could form an adequate response. He’d survived one hell on Tatooine only to be thrust into a new one. But he’d survived. Wearily, he blinked twice.

“Thank you,” she said, not sounding as though she believed him. “I should go now, and let you rest. I understand they’ll be taking you out of the tank tonight, though it will be some time before you can move or bear any kind of contact. I’m sure my father will want to speak to you. If he feels that you’re compliant, they’ll be more willing to give it time.” Her gaze stayed steady on his, a faint, fierce glint in them. “Maybe enough time for cleverness. And persistence.”

She stood there, haloed by blue light. Just above her head to the left, a security recorder was embedded into the ceiling, a reminder that they were not truly alone. He looked up at the princess and he blinked. Once. Twice. Three times.

Her mouth curled into the barest hint of a smile before it vanished. “Rest,” she said. “Think calm thoughts.”

Chapter Text

PROMPT: A swashbuckling pirate AU.

They brought The Enslaved One into the harbor just as the sun was setting. His men dispersed at once to the rowdier taverns near the docks, but Captain Fett walked nearly a mile to an inn at the crossroads. The proprietor was a fat little man who only hired pretty young girls, and while the ale was watery the stew was thick and the bread was crusty.

Fett ordered a bath, and while it was being drawn, sat down at an empty table and ate. A little peace and quiet after three months at sea was exactly what he needed.

One of the serving girls moved past his table, and he found himself regarding the line of her backside and wondering if a gold coin or two could persuade her to join him in his bath.

He had no respect for the men who went straight from the dock to the brothels, but when it came to his own satisfaction he also had a certain amount of realism. He was a man with little charm and no prospects. If a serving girl sought to make a little extra income from him, then a clever girl knew what it was worth.

And this girl was...very appealing. She was small in stature, and moved with a lithe kind of strength as she carried her pitcher of ale from one table to another. She had large brown eyes and the alert look of someone who missed nothing. A long brown braid hung down her back, exactly the sort of thing he would like to wrap around his hand like a length of rope.

He hoped she was loud in her pleasure. That was the only kind of noise he craved right now. She looked over at him once, and probably caught him staring, but she didn’t blush or shy away. He bided his time until the last customers left, and then tapped his stein. The universal sign for a refill.

“Everything to your liking?” She asked as she came closer with her pitcher. She spent time out in the sun, he noted. There was a line of paler skin revealed by the wide neckline of her bodice, as if she normally wore an open shirt out-of-doors. He would like very much to see every boundary line on her skin where the sun hadn’t touched her.

“It’s good. Any word on my bath?”

“The fire wasn’t hot enough to boil the water. They sent a boy for kindling. More bread?”

“If it’s no trouble.”

“None at all.”

He liked the way she smiled, with her chin raised. Confident. She went to the kitchen and returned with the bread on a board, still hot from the oven, and a knife to cut it with. He breathed in the aroma as she set it down and began to cut into it. They were alone in the great room now, if he was going to inquire about her company later, now was the time.

“I’ve been a long time at sea,” he said, and she gave him a bemused look.

“Yes, I can tell.”

“I know I smell of fish and filthy men, but I wash up well. The sea was good to me. Maybe you’d let me share some of that bounty with you.”

“Bounty,” she repeated, her eyes on the knife as she sliced bread. “What an interesting choice of words.” She finally looked up, her eyes bright and took a step closer to him. “I hate the sea, do you know why?”

“Too dangerous?”

She was beside him now. She put a hand on his shoulder and then slid it up the back of his neck, bringing a very welcome shiver with it. “No. I like danger. But the sea’s a fickle bitch,” she said, her fingers moving further up and fisting a handful of his hair. “For some reason she has endless mercy on pirate scum like you.”

He looked at her eyes. Then at the knife that was now pointed at his throat. “What do you want?”

“Captain Solo.”

A hiss escaped between his teeth. He was a fool. He should have expected this. “You’re the princess.”

“If you want to call me that. My father was a lord, but someone took to calling me the Princess of the Bahamas and it stuck. I prefer Leia.”

“It could be ‘captain.’ You have Solo’s ship. Make the most of it.”

“Unlike you, Fett, I have loyalties. Where is Captain Solo?”

“Probably with his wife.”

The blade grazed his throat, and he had to fight the urge to swallow. “I realize we don’t know one another well, but here’s a piece of advice. Don’t. Lie. To. Me.”

Fett considered his options. After all, no one was paying him to lie. “He owed money to Jasper the Hun. A lot of money. Jasper got tired of waiting and put a bounty on his head.”

“But Jasper doesn’t have him. Don’t you think I have eyes and ears on Tortuga?”

“Jasper will have him, when Jasper is willing to pay me what he’s really worth.” He glanced over at her. “Killing me only guarantees that Captain Solo will starve to death. I’m the only one who knows where he’s being held.”

“You’re lying to me again.” Her hand tightened in his hair, pulling his head further back.

“All right, I’m not the only one who knows. But I’m the only one who cares.” He bared his teeth at her in the barest resemblance of a smile. “Apart from you and that hairy first mate of his, Captain Solo doesn’t have a lot of friends.”

“I think you might be surprised. He’s one of The Free now, and our numbers are growing daily.”

“And I wish you luck, standing against the royal navy. You’ll need it.”

She released his hair, wiping her hand on her skirt with an expression of disgust. “This isn’t over Fett. I found you once. I’ll find you again.”

He stood, ignoring the knife she still held in her fist. “I look forward to it.” He bowed mockingly. “Princess.”

Chapter Text

PROMPT: Prompt from NyeLung for an AU where Fett and Leia are childhood friends.

 Leia stared up at the scratched metal above her, and her air supply mask a little tighter over her nose and mouth.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

She didn’t know how much time she’d passed in this metal container. It felt like years. What if she died in here?

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

A loud clang echoed through the small space, and she flinched, bracing herself. There was a hissing noise as the seal around the lid was deactivated and top split into halves. Light assaulted her eyes, but she flung her air supply aside and grasped at the strong arms that wrapped around her and lifted her out of the container.

“You have to cut this shit out,” a man’s voice muttered against her hair. “Next time, I’ll let Empire execute you.”

“No you won’t.” She clung to him, pressing her face into his neck and breathing in his familiar scent.

“Don’t be so sure.”

Leia reached up and felt her way up to the side of his face, but he pulled her hand away. “Oh, come on,” she protested. Her eyes were adjusting, enough that she could tilt her head back and see the hard set on his jaw. “Boba. I got the plans out.”

“Fekking how?”

“I put them in an astromech droid and sent it to the escape pods.”

“How do you know they weren’t intercepted?”

“I think Vader would told me if he had them. Just to rub my face in it” She shuddered involuntarily, and Boba’s arms tightened around her. “I’m okay. Really.”

“So the plans are out there, you just don’t know where.”

“Good thing I have you to help me find them.” She tried again to touch his face, to bring his lips down to hers, but he jerked his head away. “You’re angry with me.”

“You’re godsdamn right I’m angry,” he replied without raising his voice or altering its pitch. “I’m going to strangle Bail Organa with my bare hands. Fucking senators should do their own dirty work.” He picked her up easily and set her in a chair in the cockpit of his small ship. “You should comm your mother. She was ready to storm the battle station by herself, but Obi-Wan convinced her to let me try first.”

“Yes, bless your immoral dealings with the Empire.” She sighed. “I wish they’d get married already.”

“I don’t.” He settled into the pilot’s seat and brought up a nav chart.

“Why not?”

“Your mother. My adopted father. Think about it.”

“So? We grew up together. It’s not like we’re related.”

Boba studied the chart in silence for a second or two. “Did you see him?”

Leia drew her knees up in her seat, suddenly feeling a little chilled. “Yes. He...he was very eager to meet me. He’s everything people say he is. Charming. Sincere.”

“Right up to the point where he guts you with his lightsaber.”

She shivered. It was impossible to fully explain how it felt to meet her twin brother face to face for the first time and then to hear him express polite regret over her scheduled execution.

“Cold?”

“What? Oh.” Leia realized he was referring to her. “A little. I’m just...I’m not ready to talk to mom yet. I know she’s going to want to know everything about him, and I just can’t…” She closed her eyes briefly. “He just happened to be the one with the Force-powers. The one Vader wanted. It could have been me.”

Boba glanced at her out the corner of his eyes.

“What is it?”

“Nothing. I’ll comm Padme. You should go rest.”

She leaned over and rubbed her palm over his thigh. “You could join me. Keep me warm?”

“I’m warm enough here.”

“What’s wrong?”

He turned in his chair to face her, his dark eyes fixed intently on hers. “I’m leaving.”

“You’re…leaving what?” Or who, a panicked voice whispered in her head.

“The rebellion. Obi-Wan’s house. All of it. I’m out.”

“But we’re at war. We need you!”

“It’s not my war. Obi-Wan took me in after my dad’s death, and I’m grateful to him. I’m grateful to your mom too, for looking after me. But I don’t have to spend my whole life fighting for their causes. And neither do you.”

Leia sagged back in her chair, still in shock. “Where are you going?”

He shrugged. “My dad had some family out in Mandalore sector, maybe I’ll start there.” His eyes sought hers. “You could come with me.”

“I can’t. You know I can’t.” She stared at him helplessly. “Boba, for as long as I can remember you’ve been there for me. And what I told you last month is still true, if you don’t want to be physically intimate-”

“It’s not that. I want to-” His mouth quirked up in a smile. “I want to be ‘physically intimate’ with you. I want to have a future with you.” His eyes dropped. “There’s something I need to tell you. Something Padme and Obi-Wan kept from you. And I kept from you, because they asked me to, and I was twelve and scared.” He leaned toward her, and Leia felt that brush of aching cold again. “It’s about Vader.”

Chapter Text

PROMPT: Someone requested an AU of A New Hope where Boba fills Han's role and I decided to make it a Leia Skywalker AU as well.

 “Well. That’s unfortunate.”

Leia turned her head to stare at the old man beside her, and then resumed gaping wordlessly at the cantina that was, at the moment, engulfed in flames.

“Unfortunate?” She echoed. “We just spent the last hour dodging stormtroopers because you said we could find a pilot here! What do we do now?”

“Trust the Force.” Ben turned toward a tall Devarian who was also staring at the flaming wreckage. “Pardon me. Are you by any chance a pilot?”

“I’m a dead man,” he whispered in reply. “I owe Jabba money too.”

Leia leaned around Ben. “Jabba the Hutt did this?”

“One of his bounty hunters.” The Devarian took a step back. “You never saw me.” He turned and fled down an alley, only to be shoved aside by a squadron of stormtroopers.

“Not again,” Leia groaned.

“In here. Quickly.” Ben gestured at a nearby docking bay, and Leia ducked into the cool dark of the hanger, the droids close behind her. Ben joined them, lowering the hood of his robe in the dim light. “I suppose we had better-”

But Leia had just spotted something. “New plan,” she said, hurrying forward into the gloom. “See that ship? That’s our ride.”

“That ship?” Ben sounded confounded. “That’s-”

“It belongs to a bounty hunter called Boba Fett.” She stopped at the cargo bay entrance of the battered, oblong ship. “I sort of saved his life last year. He was hunting some big time criminal out on the Dune Sea and got caught in a skirmish between the sandpeople.”

Ben stopped a good twenty feet from the ship. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you to stay away from bounty hunters?”

“He was hurt. A gaderfii stick caught him in the side and nearly tore out his guts. Aunt Beru always says that the biggest problem in this galaxy is that no one helps-” The words caught in her throat, and it all washed over her again. It was just so blasted unfair. She’d spent her entire life wanting to leave her aunt and uncle’s farm, and now her wish had been granted. “She used to say that.”

Ben came closer, and put a hand on her shoulder.

Leia swiped at her eyes and took a deep breath. Lucky for her she still remembered the magic words. “Olarom yaim.”

A green light flashed near the bay doors, casting a long beam of light that swept over her. “Olarom yaim,” the ship repeated in a disembodied voice. The doors creaked and began to open.

“That’s the Mandalorian tongue,” Ben said faintly. “Remarkable.”

“Is it?” Leia strode up the ramp into the cargo hold of the small ship. “Hello? Anyone home?” The first time she walked through that door, she was half-carrying a bleeding, barely conscious bounty hunter. She barely saw the holding cells and the floor permanently scarred by the dragging boots of Fett’s prey.

By her fifth venture into the ship, she saw them but barely gave them a moment’s thought. Even now her feet seemed to want to carry her up the ladder to his bunk. As if he might still be there, wearing nothing but black undershorts, nursing his bandaged side and tinkering with his helmet.

Everything she told Ben was true, but there were certain details she omitted. She snuck out to his ship every day for ten days to dress the bounty hunter's wound and never breathed a word of it to her aunt and uncle. He showed her holovids of some of the worlds he had traveled to, and the captures he had made. She told him about the races in Beggar’s Canyon, and the modifications she’d made to her Skyhopper. On the tenth day she brought him a traditional Tatooine meal of lund bread and oil, and the oil dripped on his bare stomach and she told him that natives often rubbed it into their skin as well…

She could still remember vividly the heat of his skin under her slick palm, and the way he looked at her, raw and wanting, when she slipped her hand into his shorts. They kissed for the first time shortly after that, and then he gathered up the last of the oil on his fingers. “I don’t believe in much,” he told her, “but I believe in reciprocity.”

She didn’t see any reason to mention any of that to Ben. They needed a ship. Fett would understand. Or, at the very least, he probably wouldn’t kill her for it.

She scrambled up the ladder into the cockpit, and Ben followed, leaving the droids below. There was an alert flashing on the console, an Imperial posting for two droids, last spotted in Mos Eisley. She dropped into the pilot’s seat and took a deep breath.

“Do you know how to fly it?”

“Sort of. I flew it across the Dune Sea, but when it comes to making the jump to hyperspace…”

“I don’t think that will be a problem.”

"Why?" Leia turned to look at Ben and almost fell off the chair at the sight of Boba Fett. He looked just as she remembered him, minus the bandage on his side. He was wearing nothing but a pair of sleek black undershorts and holding a blaster to Ben’s head.

“Hello Boba,” Ben said, unsmiling. “My, haven’t you grown.”

“Wait.” Leia stared at the them dumbly. “You two know one another?”

“Lightsaber,” Boba said, without taking his eyes off Ben. “Where is it?”

“On my belt. I suppose you’d like to have it?”

“Give it to Leia.”

“Boba,” She tried to explain. “He’s just an old-”

“Put it in that bin on the right side of chair and lock it.”

“Fine.” She took the weapon from Ben and dropped it into the bin. She still had her father’s lightsaber tucked beneath her poncho, the one Ben had given to her, but Boba hadn’t specified all lightsabers, so she said nothing.

The bounty hunter lowered his blaster. “I’m having the weirdest fekking day. Leia. It’s nice to see you. What are you doing?”

“Borrowing your ship.”

One dark eyebrow raised slightly.

“It’s an emergency.”

He jerked his head toward the cargo hold. “Are those the droids the empire is looking for?”

“Yes.”

“The weirdest. Fekking. Day.” He shook his head. “First Greedo blows the cantina skyhigh, and now this.”

Leia sat up straighter. “You know what happened to the cantina?”

“I was there. Came in through the back just time to see Greedo fumble a thermal detonator. The explosion almost threw me across the street. I came back here to clean up and was in the shower when I saw you enter on the security monitor.” His mouth turned up at the corner as he looked at Ben. “Suddenly my day went from shit to solid gold.”

“Sorry about barging in. But I really need your help.”

“What happened?”

“The empire happened.” Her hands curled into fists. “They killed my aunt and uncle. They destroyed our farm. I need to get Ben and those droids to Alderaan-”

“He’s not going to take us to Alderaan,” Ben interjected.

“Of course he will,” she looked up at Fett expectantly. “He owes me.”

“I do owe you,” Boba acknowledged. “You saved my life, and I'll repay you in kind. But I don’t owe Kenobi banthaspit.”

Leia rose out of the chair, ready to protest. “You can’t just leave him here!”

“He’s worth a hundred thousand credits. More if I play it right. Why would I leave him here?”

“What?” Leia had the gnawing feeling that she’d missed something important.

Ben cleared his throat. “It might be helpful to clarify that the two of you first met, you were looking for me.”

“And apparently I was closer than I thought.” Boba raised his blaster again. “Pick a cell, Kenobi, and get comfortable.”

“Boba-” Leia took a step closer to him, but he stopped her with a look.

“I don’t believe in much,” he said. “But I believe in reciprocity. The droids are yours to do with as you wish...as long as we're all satisfied with this arrangement."

She raised her chin and glared at him. "And what if I'm not?"

He held her gaze, his eyes dark and cool. "Plenty of empty cells down there."

“You slimy, worm-ridden piece of-”

“Stop.” Ben held up a hand. “If I go with you, you’ll take Leia and the droids to Alderaan?”

“If that’s where she wants to go.” The bounty hunter turned his attention back to her. "You're on your own now, Leia, and you're going to need money. Those droids are worth a lot to someone."

Leia shook head in mute denial. She couldn't believe how badly she'd screwed this up. Ben put a hand on her shoulder again. "Trust the Force," he reminded her, and Leia thought about the lightsaber hidden in her clothes and the fact that it would take them several days to get to the core. Maybe enough time for her to figure out how to pilot this ship. 

She turned back to Boba. “How fast can you get us to Alderaan?”

Chapter Text

Based on this post from tumblr, this was an AU I wrote two scenes for.

Leia walked into the assembly hall with her chin high, in spite of the fear that swirled around in her stomach. Thousands of sentients filled the room, some standing, some already at their tables. 

The Assembly Meeting of the Galactic Confederacy.

She’d watched these meetings on the holonet ever since she was a child, studying the different systems and their governments, waiting for this moment. Waiting for the 20-year sanction imposed on loyalist systems to end.

And now here she was. 

Some of the other recently unsanctioned representatives were clustered together at the edges of the room, but Leia had already decided that was the wrong tactic to take. She needed to demonstrate that Alderaan was ready to take part in this government, even if it wasn’t the government they fought for in the Clone Wars. She kept moving until she saw her name hovering over an empty chair.

Well, not entirely empty. The man seated next to her had decided to use it as a footrest.

She saw the back of his head first, short black hair, and then the light combat armor he wore. Her table setting had been pushed to one side to make room for a matching helmet, and she could see her own reflection in the narrow, t-shaped visor.

It seemed he could see it too, because he turned suddenly, bracing his arm on the back of his chair. He blinked at her, as if he was surprised by her presence, but he didn’t move. Instead he watched her with sharp brown eyes.

Leia met his gaze without flinching. She put her hand on the back of her chair and pulled it out with his feet still on it. “That’s my seat.”

A second passed in airless silence. Then two.

He dropped his feet to the ground with a thump. “I didn’t think you were coming.”

“Well, here I am.” Leia claimed her seat, trying not to show her relief. She wasn’t sure what she would have done if he’d decided to be an asshole about it. 

“I’m Boba Fett. Mandalore System.”

“I couldn’t tell,” she muttered, pushing at his helmet with the tips of her fingers. “Do you mind?”

He moved it.

Leia looked at the representatives seated around them. Some were engaged in conversation and others were fiddling with their mobile translators. All of them were trying not to stare.

It seemed she wasn’t making the best first impression. She turned to Boba Fett, trying for a tone of polite interest. “Your father is Jango Fett? The Mand’alor.”

“That’s right.”

Leia had met a few of Jango Fett’s famous clones before. Millions of his “sons” had scattered through the galaxy following the dissolution of the Republic, but some had chosen to follow him to back to Mandalore to reclaim the government from Satine Kryze and the New Mandalorians.

“I’m Leia Organa.”

He nodded. “Alderaan. First time here. You’re young.”

Leia arched an eyebrow at him. “I’m twenty-one, and there’s no age requirement that I’m aware of.” She took a sip from the glass of water at her place, and then, because he didn’t seem to be much for small talk, asked “how old are you?”

“Thirty-four.”

“How long have you been a delegate?”

He exhaled and picked up his own water glass. “This is my fourth assembly.” He grimaced at her, and Leia smiled back, grateful that they’d at least reached some plateau of friendliness.

“Then I guess you can answer all of my questions.”

“It’s a fekking bore. That’s all I can tell you.” He glanced around and then slipped a small pouch out of his belt. He poured a small amount of clear liquid into his water and then offered the pouch to Leia. “It’s tihaar. Looks like water and tastes like miter acid.”

She took the pouch and trickled a small amount into her own drink. “So if you hate it, why not resign and let someone else do it?”

He took the pouch back from her hand and tucked back in his belt. “It’s not my decision. The Mand’alor picks the delegates. I think he’s just hoping I’ll meet someone. He thinks I need to get married.”

“That’s the exact opposite of my dad. He’s always telling me not to rush things. I don’t think he trusts my taste in men.” Leia swirled her glass once or twice to mix the alcohol in with the water and took a sip. Fire jumped over her tongue and burned down the back of her throat. Boba was watching her face with great amusement, so she repressed the urge to grab the water pitcher and try to flood the taste out of her mouth.

“Oh gods,” she muttered, her throat raw. “And that’s diluted.”

“Yeah, it’s terrible.” He took a sip of his own drink and flinched just a little as he swallowed. “My dad has an old friend who comes to Keldabe to visit him and they drink it straight. And then he goes home, and I have to hear about how many grandchildren Kal has now, and how he would really like some fekking grandchildren, if it’s not too much trouble.”

Leia laughed and braved another sip. The burn wasn’t as bad the second time, and there was a lingering warmth that was actually very pleasant. “What about his other sons? He must have hundreds, if not thousands of grandchildren by now.”

“Biologically, he probably does. But that doesn’t matter to a Mandalorian. I’m the son he raised, so I’m the one who has to get married and give him grandchildren.” Boba shook his head. “I tried pointing out to him that he’s still not married himself, but he says that doesn’t count since he keeps asking Ben and Ben keeps saying no.”

A bell chimed, and everyone began to find to their seats. Leia set her glass down and drew a datapad and translator out of the bag on the back of the chair. “Thanks for the drink,” she said to Boba, who nodded and lifted his glass in a mock toast.

“You know, I know who your dad is, and the role he played in the war…but hearing you talk about him makes me think I would like him if I met him.”

Boba grinned at her. “Pretty sure he wouldn’t like you. Not at first anyway.” His smile faltered just a little and his expression turned thoughtful. “I have a proposition for you.”

“A proposition?”

“A proposal, you could say.” He leaned toward her, his voice low. “There’s a social event tonight, after dinner. He’ll be there. Let’s get married.”

Her head spun a little, and she wasn’t sure whether to blame it on the tihaar or his words. “What?”

“Not really married. A fake wedding. He’s always after me to get married, imagine his reaction when I marry some Alderaani duchess I met this morning.”

“Actually, I’m a princess.”

“Fek, that’s even better. And then when I tell him the whole thing was a joke, maybe he’ll get off my back about it.”

“I don’t…”

“And you’ll come out of it looking like a good sport who pulled one over on the Mand’alor. Plenty of people who can’t stand my dad will want to shake your hand. Plenty of his friends will too.”

Leia tried to remind herself that she was here to represent Alderaan, not play pranks, but she couldn’t help but wonder if Boba was right. If the first impression people had of her was someone who was cooperative and fun, maybe that was an image Alderaan could use.

She picked up her glass again and took one more sip of tihaar. She was beginning to like it. “Okay,” she told Boba. “I’m in.”

 Leia pulled herself up and reached for the glass of water on the bedside table. It was room temperature, but it saturated her dry mouth and cleared her head a little. She leaned back against the upholstered headboard and looked over at the man beside her, face down on his pillow. “You want some water?”

Boba held up his hand, and she put the glass against his palm and wrapped his fingers around it. “Thanks,” he said as he pushed himself up with one arm and took a long sip. He handed it back to her, and she returned it to the table.

“I still can’t believe we pulled that off.”

“You were very convincing.”

“So were you! Of course, it probably didn’t hurt that we had some…” she kicked at the blankets tangled around her feet and laughed. “…natural chemistry.”

“Everyone should have fake wedding night sex at least once in their lives.” He laid back and tucked his hands under his head. “Fek, I can’t wait to see the look on my dad’s face.”

“Do you think he’ll be angry?”

“I don’t care if he is.” His eyes shut, and he looked so warm and solid Leia laid back down at his side.

“We could do this again sometime,” she suggested. “Without the fake wedding.”

“We could do it again now.” 

“Can we?” She slipped her hand under the sheets caught around his waist. “Yes. Apparently we can. No husband and wife stuff this time, let’s just do it like two people who met yesterday and didn’t fake getting married.” She sat up and straddled his hips, enjoying the way his dark eyes moved over her body like a caress. His fingers combed through her hair just before he curled up and caught her mouth in a sweet, lingering kiss.

“Did we spend the night together in this scenario or-”

The door burst open, with sparks and smoke. Leia only caught a brief glimpse of people on the other side before Boba rolled, shoving her off and putting himself between her and the door. He reached up between the mattress and the headboard and drew blaster out of hiding, a precaution Leia wished she’d thought of right before she heard a familiar voice.

“Leia!” Bail Organa strode into the room, flanked by four armed guards, their blaster rifles raised and ready. Boba, thank the gods, had the presence of mind not to open fire.

“Don’t-” Leia grabbed both his arm and the sheet at the same time, trying to cover herself. “That’s my-”

Her father took in the room with a sweeping glance, and then glowered at Boba. “You’re outnumbered. Lay down your weapon.”

“I’m not even close to outnumbered,” Boba growled in response. “Tell your men to stand down.”

“What is the meaning of this?” Two of the guards pivoted as Jango Fett stormed into the room, followed closely by Ben. Even at this early hour, the Mand’alor was fully arrayed in his imposing armor, his face just as fierce as his helmet.

He knocked the blaster out of the hands of the closest guard with one sweep of his arm before grabbing the man by the shoulders and headbutting him with a enough force to send him sprawling.

“Hold,” Bail cried to the rest. “Stand down.”

“You’re fekking right, ‘stand down.’” The Mand’alor was clearly furious. “You entered my quarters by force, with arms, against all regulations, manners or common sense. You threatened my son. This had better be really fekking good, Organa.”

Bail started to speak, but his eyes riveted over Jango’s shoulder. “You.”

Ben smiled, a little stiffly. “Hello Bail. It’s been in a long time.”

“Enough,” Boba said, raising the muzzle of his blaster to the ceiling. “Everybody out.”

“I’m not leaving without my daughter,” Bail replied, coming back to himself. “And you should know that according to our laws the bride cannot bestow any fortune or endowments without her mother’s approval, which I assure you, she will not give.”

“Oh no,” Leia cringed in realization. “Father, please, you don’t-”

“You think Boba is after her money?” Jango sneered. “Keep it. There’s no such thing as dowries or inheritances on Mandalore.”

“What am I supposed to think?” Bail’s voice was rough with emotion, and it filled Leia with shame. “I heard about it on the kriffing news. My only daughter, married to the son of the chieftain of Mandalore. My comm has been transmitting nonstop from people congratulated me on making such a bold move, as if I planned it. As if I sold you in some grand political scheme.”

Leia shut her eyes and pressed her forehead against Boba’s shoulder. “I didn’t think it would make the news.”

“Clearly you didn’t think at all. Leia, your mother was up all night-.”

“I’m sorry!”

“Look,” Jango interrupted gruffly. “What’s done is done. It wasn’t my idea, and it wasn’t your idea, but they’re in love, and they want to be married.”

“Oh, fek,” Boba muttered. He dropped his gun on the bed and ran a hand over his face.

“Boba?” Ben inquired.

“It was supposed to be joke,” Boba replied with a grimace. “None of it is real. We’re not in love and we didn’t actually get married.”

“A joke,” Bail and Jango said at the same time, with nearly the exact same tone and inflection.

“Leia,” her father questioned sternly. “Is this true?”

“Of course it is. Do you really think I would get married without telling you?”

“It was my idea,” Boba said, scratching his head. “It was just a stupid prank.”

Jango made a huffing sound of agreement. “Why would you even do something like this?”

“You’re always on me to settle down-”

“I’m not-” Jango turned his head toward Ben. “Am I always on him?”

“You might have mentioned it a few times last week,” the man replied mildly. “…And every week since he turned twenty.”

Boba raised his eyebrows and pointed to Ben. “See? That’s why.”

“Is this also a joke?” Bail inquired, looking pointedly at the rumpled bed before he looked at Leia.

“No, this is none of your business.” She flushed and pulled the sheet up a little higher.

Chapter Text

PROMPT: An AU where Leia has been raised as Imperial royalty and Boba is her bodyguard. 

 “My daughter has a habit of breaking her toys.”

Fett stood there, silently staring at the burning wreckage of the small transport, and thought again of Vader’s words. The original context did not concern ships, but the lives of the Imperial trainers, pilots and bodyguards unfortunate enough to be assigned to the princess.

“It was a lousy ship anyway.” She stood beside him, small in stature but fierce and surprisingly strong. The woman whose life he was charged with protecting at all costs, including his own.

Lucky him.

“The rebels are close by.” He said, turning away from the ship. “We need to go deeper into the woods.”

“Maybe we should set up an ambush. Someone’s going to come check it out. Maybe someone with a speeder.”

“We don’t need a speeder. We need a comms tower.”

“A speeder would help us get to a comms tower.”

“But it won’t help us avoid attention.”

Leia sighed heavily. “Fine. We’ll do it your way. For now.”

She was beginning to trust his judgement, a long, hard-fought campaign on his part. The kind of hard-fought campaign that involved actual fighting. Broken ribs and bloody knuckles, every sort of ache and pain as she tested him, over and over again.

Trust didn’t come easily to a member of the Imperial royal family. Leia had been trained from childhood to see everyone as either a tool to be used, or a threat. The Force flowed through her, just as did through Emperor Vader, and her brother, Lord Skywalker, and bent just as easily to her will.

“Can you pick up any readings?” She tapped her head, indicating his helmet’s sensors. “Any nearby settlements?”

“Not yet. But we weren’t that far past the city of Oshi’ranee when-”

There was a flash of light, and a horrible roar that filled the air. He pushed her down into a shallow ditch as the shockwave bore over them with enough force to strip the leaves off saplings. The audio receptors in his helmet shorted out, leaving a deafening ringing behind. They stayed flat in the ditch until the final gust passed over them and the leaves and dirt settled.

The princess was the first to raise her head, her mouth open in shock. He couldn’t hear her, but it wasn’t hard to interpret her question.

“That was your army,” he said, as soon as he could get his helmet off. “Remember, they don’t know you’re down here.”

“FUCK,” she said, unable to judge her volume. “We could have died!”

“Collateral damage. Someone always dies.”

“Now what?”

“Doesn’t change our plan. As long as we don’t get blown up, there will be lots of refugees fleeing to the city to send transmissions and find help. We’ll fit right in.” He pulled himself to his feet. “Sort of. We’ll need to find you some other clothes.”

Leia sat up, looked down at her flight suit and vest and frowned. “What’s wrong with this? It’s very simple.”

“Simple and expensive. You think people here won’t recognize core designer wear?”

She held out her hand hand expectantly and he helped her stand. “I had no idea you were knowledgeable about the common people,” she said dryly. “I would have thought the gutter would be more your area of expertise.”

“They’re not that far apart, Your Highness.” He took a bag out of one the pouches on on his belt. It folded up small, but it was large enough to contain his armor.

“So. We’re refugees.”

“From one of the manufacturing towns the Empire just destroyed. Husband and wife. No one will believe we’re siblings.” He dropped his helmet in the bag and started to remove his armored shoulder guard.

“And how does a wife behave among the common people?” She took a step a closer to him and tucked her chin, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes. “Should I hang on your arm and nod along at every word?”

Flirting was another way she tried to intimidate the people around her. “I think it would be more effective if we were not happily married. You’re younger than me and better looking. You married me before you knew better. Flirt with all the men. And the women too, if you want. I’ll be clueless and jealous. It’ll make everyone so uncomfortable, they’ll bend over backwards to help us leave.”

She dropped her kittenish pose and stared at him for a moment. “My gods. That’s brilliant.” She turned to continue on. “I’d say we’re not paying you enough, but of course, we’re not paying you at all.”

He watched her walk away, gauging his odds. “Maybe my brilliance is worth a reduction on my debt.”

She paused and looked back over her shoulder. “Maybe. But first, your brilliant plan has to work.”

Chapter Text

PROMPT: A Western AU, requested by NyeLung. 

The smoke in the Sandpit Saloon was so thick, Leia could barely see two feet in front of her. The main hall was crowded, the tables packed tightly together, and the air stank of opium smoke and spittoons. Somewhere in the haze, someone plunked away at a piano, and thanks to the languid efforts of a woman in a bright green dress waving a feathered fan, she could just make out the bar to her left.

Etiquette would have her remove her broad-brimmed hat, but since she was trying to appear as a man, she kept it pulled low over her brow. She wasn’t the only one here who had chosen to forego niceties, among their number the man she was looking for. The man who was easily distinguishable, even in the smoky atmosphere, by the gray hat he wore.

It had a piece missing out of the right side. As if a large animal had taken a bite. People said a mountain lion attacked him, and the bounty hunter killed it with his bare hands.

People said a lot of things about Boba Fett.

Leia had never met the man, as the daughter of a wealthy rancher, she never had an occasion for their paths to cross.

But now here she was, in the viper’s pit known as Carkoon, seeking him out. The town itself was little more than a waystation, with a saloon and livery. An outlaw’s haven, widely considered to be a wretched hive of scum and villainy.

She couldn’t help but observe that Fett had chosen the only seat in the whole room where he could see the entire room, and the door. She couldn’t see his eyes under the broad brim on his hat, but a warning prickle ran up the back of her neck just the same. He’d seen her.

“Look at this pretty thing.” Suddenly her path was filled by an enormous man, just as enormous in width as height. His vest was embossed with gold threads that matched the two gold teeth that were among a handful left in his gaping smile.

“Afternoon,” she said as gruffly as she could. She touched the brim of her hat with her gloved hand and tried to pass, but the man was a mountain.

“It’s evening now. Nearly night. A special time at the Sandpit. Time to digest all of the...delights we’ve enjoyed. And anticipate the new delights tomorrow will bring.”

Leia kept the brim of her heat lowered by looking down at her feet. They were dwarfed by this man’s great boots.

“I hope you enjoy your night,” he said in an oily way, and then turned to the side to let her pass by.

She had to squeeze between his bulk and the bar, and he shuddered and gave a little “haa,” as she brushed against him. Ugh. What a disgusting creature.

She caught sight again of Fett, still seated at the far edge of the bar, so still he might have been a statue. His hands rested on the scarred wooden surface, the tips of his fingers intertwined. There was no drink in front of him. She drew in a deep breath, squared her shoulders and dropped down on the stool beside him.

“You shouldn’t be here.” He didn’t raise his head when he spoke. His voice was low and even.

“Who are you to tell me where I shouldn’t be?” Leia bristled in response. “You don’t know me.”

He tilted his head to one side, enough for her to see a pair of dark eyes regarding her soberly. “Maybe not. But I know who you are. And I know why you’re here.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

“Then you know I can make you a very wealthy man.”

He snorted.

“At least let me buy you a drink. Hear me out.”

“It’s too late.” He shifted in his seat and tightened his hands. “I turned him over to Job yesterday.”

Her stomach dropped. “Is he…”

“Still alive. He was passed over for the afternoon’s entertainment. Tomorrow, maybe. If he can stand.”

Leia swallowed hard and glared at the bounty hunter. “Then maybe I should talk to Job.”

“You already have.” Fett tipped his head toward the enormous man who was now petting the arm of the dancer in the green dress. The woman’s eyes were glazed over.

“Damn it,” Leia muttered. “I need a drink.”

“Don’t drink anything here. Not even water.” The bounty hunter turned his emotionless gaze towards the bartender, a tall, thin man with a bristly mustache. He appeared to be busy polishing glasses. “Two bits from anyone here and he’ll put something in your drink. He’s very good at it.”

The bartender raised his head just slightly and winked her. It was by far the most malicious wink Leia had ever seen.

“Thanks for the advice,” she said to Fett stiffly. “I’ll just offer Job twice what Han owes him.”

“Or, you could go home and tell your father not to hire gamblers.” He paused as the piano music changed to something more energetic. “Does he know you’re here?”

She looked down and adjusted her gloves.

“That’s what I thought.” He said it dryly. “Go home, Miss Organa. Find someone more worthy of your affections.”

“I’ll leave with Han or I won’t leave at all.” She pushed away from the bar and turned to go, but Job and the dancer were gone. In fact, everyone seemed to be leaving.

“Closing time,” Fett told her, rising from his stool. “Everyone who has a room will turn in for the night. Everyone else sleeps down here. I wouldn’t sleep, if I were you. Not if you value your possessions and your bodily safety.”

“How do I get a room?”

“Find someone willing to share. Shouldn’t be hard. But you should expect certain advances to made.”

Something occurred to Leia, and she took a step closer to him. “Do you have a room?”

“And a bed. Are you asking to share it?” He was mocking her, but Leia stood her ground.

“I’ll pay you for it.”

“I don’t think so. I’ve had a long couple of days, and no amount of money is going to convince me to spend the night on the floor of a bar.”

“Half your bed, then.” She tilted her head back, studying the man. “For some reason I get the feeling that you really have no interest in making advances toward me.”

He gazed back at her, one eyebrow slightly raised. “I make it a rule not to fuck people who are likely to die the next day. Too morbid.”

“A good and sensible rule, if crudely put.”

A slight grimace crossed his face, but he shrugged. “Fine. Half my bed. Six dollars.”

“Three.”

He gave her a look that suggested she was not in a position to bargain.

“Fine. Six.” She put the money in his hand, and he transferred it deftly to his pocket.

“Let’s go to bed.”

Her fight was far from over, but Leia couldn’t help feeling a little thrill of victory. “After you.”

Chapter Text

PROMPT: An AU using the Arranged Marriage trope.

What clenched it in the end was her mother’s voice, soft and weary. “Maybe then…”

Her mother was always serving others. For nearly three decades she’d served as the Regent of Naboo, a job she hadn’t wanted to begin with, and she worked tirelessly at it. “You don’t owe them your entire life,” her father would say, his hand on her shoulder.

“I know, Ani,” she would reply, but there was always just one more term. One more project to complete, one more promise to keep. Under her leadership, Naboo held on, through conquest by the Trade Federation, and then later through the onslaught of Republic forces as they destroyed the droid factories of the Separatists. They held on, but just barely.

Leia had asked her father once, why her mother held on so desperately to a job she hated.

All children of Naboo knew the story of the invasion. Leia and her brother Luke could practically recite it by the time they were five. How the queen begged the senate to intervene, and the senate refused. How Naboo fought for its freedom and lost. Even the two Jedi, who rescued her father from slavery on Tatooine and brought him to Naboo, died during the attack. The queen was forced to sign a treaty with the Trade Federation, and cede control of the planet.

The queen, of course, was Leia’s mother, who was only fourteen at the time.

“Think about how that must have felt,” said her father. “To be so young and to have so much responsibility.”

Her mother never said anything about how it felt. “Service to your homeworld is a privilege,” she would say whenever the subject came up. “Not a burden.”

Leia was twenty now, and she was being asked to do one thing in service of her homeworld. She was being asked to consent to an arranged marriage to Boba Fett, the chieftain of the Mandalore system.

Mandalore was far from the wealthiest system, but under Fett’s leadership it remained stable and unmolested by the ever-encroaching Galactic Empire. Naboo’s economy was still recovering from the destruction of the Clone Wars, and Leia understood, in a detached and logical way, why an alliance of marriage would provide relief.

“It’s your decision,” her mother told her. “I promised the council I would present it to you, and I have. Advisor Lagorgan even noted that you would become a council member under the Articles of Affiliation, and maybe then…”

Her voice trailed off, but Leia understood.

She met her husband-to-be only once before the ceremony. He was more than ten years older, dark in coloring with sober features.

“Quiet and polite,” her mother summarized later.

“Not really what you’d expect,” her father added dryly. “Considering his reputation.”

Boba Fett was the youngest person ever to claim the title of Mand’alor , the chieftain of the Mandalorian clans. He was thirteen at the time. His predecessor was also his adviser, a tall, fair-haired man named Fenn Shysa. Leia had the impression that this was all his idea. Fett didn’t seem all that interested in Naboo, or in her, for that matter.

They were married in Theed, on the palace plaza. The Mandalorians all wore their armor. Luke remarked that it looked more like a surrender than a wedding and Leia pinched him for it.

The ceremony passed by in a blur. At the reception her cousins kissed her cheeks and told her how happy they were for her. Fenn Shysa gave the Naboo waltz a good-humored attempt, and finally her mother hugged her tight. Much tighter than usual.

“About tonight,” she whispered. “I know we’ve never really talked about it-”

“Mom. I’m not a child.” Leia wriggled out of her grasp. “Go dance with dad. He’s looking for you.”

Her husband didn’t kiss her. He asked a question now and then, but otherwise seemed very comfortable with silence.

For their wedding night they had the nicest guest suite in the palace, with a stunning view of Theed and separate dressing rooms. Leia debated extensively on what to wear to bed. It seemed a little dramatic to forego clothing altogether, so in the end she settled for a simple black shift with delicate straps.

Her husband was already in bed. His chest was bare, but the sheets were pulled up to his waist and made it impossible to determine whether or not he was naked. His hands were tucked behind his head and his eyes were studying the ceiling as if the smooth gray surface held some fascinating knowledge.

Leia climbed into bed, tucked her legs beneath the sheets, and then turned toward him. “So...I guess we should…” As painfully awkward as this whole thing was, she would much rather push past it than wait in silence.

“There’s no rush,” he said, his eyes still fixed on the ceiling. “We don’t have to do anything tonight.”

“I know.” Leia picked at the sheets. “But my mother...she’ll ask questions. If we don’t do it she’ll want to know why, and then she’ll try to fix it, and I…” she cringed a little at the thought.

Fett gave a snort. “Your mother and Fenn. It’s no wonder they get along so well.”

“They definitely hit it off.” Her father seemed to like him too. Leia was aware that sometimes her parents invited a third into their bed, and the thought that occurred to her was both shocking and not really all that unlikely. She pursed her lips, trying to phrase it delicately. “Does Fenn-”

“Yes.”

They looked at one another, and Leia burst out laughing. “I mean, really, how dare they? On our wedding night?”

Fett didn’t laugh, but he clearly shared her amusement. “You’re right, anyway. It’ll be easier to do it and have it done than not do it and dodge questions.”

He took his right hand out from under his head and slid it under the sheets that were gathered around his waist. “Give me a minute,” he said, as if needed to stop and refasten his shoe. “You can be on top. Shouldn’t take long.”

Leia raised her eyebrows as his hand moved under the sheets in a unmistakable fashion. “Can I at least watch?”

If nothing else, he was not shy. He flipped back the sheet without a second of hesitation, and Leia sat up a little straighter. He was definitely naked, and made quite a nice picture, all in all. She drew her legs up tighter under herself. “Kriff,” she murmured. “I had no idea…”

Fett didn’t stop, but he frowned slightly. “You’ve never seen one?” He sounded skeptical.

“I have a brother. I’ve seen them, just not...like that.”

“Huh.” He was a silent for a few seconds. “I was told Naboo was a very sexually permissive society.”

“Well, I heard Mandalorians had backwards and barbaric sexual norms. I sort of expected-” she made a series of hand motions that probably weren’t terribly clear “-like a nerf, you know?”

She was afraid he would laugh at her, but all he did was give her a sort of half-grin. “ Fek, yes. Let’s do that.” His hand stilled. “So just to be clear...I’m your first.”

“Well, first man. I've fooled around with a few friends, but it never got serious. I think my interest is more varied than exclusive.”

“Interesting.”

She reached out a hand tentatively. “Can I...”

“Yes.” His own hand dropped down to the bed. “If it helps... Fierfek.”

“Oh, come on, I barely touched you.”

“You’re my...first. Woman.”

“What?” Leia stared at him a moment. “But you like women, right?” She looked down at the evidence in her hand, just to be sure.

“I’d like to rip that black thing off of you. Can I?”

A warm flush spread into her cheeks, but she made a show of tsking and shaking her head. “I knew it. Barbaric . I’ll just take it off.” She pulled the shift over her head in one swift motion and threw it off the edge of the bed while he watched her with dark, hungry eyes. “I think we’re going to get along very well,” she said as she leaned over him. “It seems we have a lot in common.” Her lips brushed his, soft and teasing, and he curled up to meet her mouth.

There was a fire in him now, an energy and aggression that made it little easier to see how he became the youngest Mand’alor in history. His hand spread over the back of her neck as his mouth devoured hers, and she laid her own hand on his chest and felt the rapid beat of his heart under her palm.

He rolled her onto her back as their tongues met and his naked body slid against hers in an electrifying moment of contact. When their lips parted, she was breathless, truly at a loss for words. He looked down at her with that funny sort of half-smile, and her pulse stuttered.

Service to Naboo never seemed like less of a burden then it did at this particular moment. Maybe her mother was right.

Chapter Text

PROMPT: A Superhero AU where Boba has a dark and tortured origin story. I'm not familiar enough with Marvel to play in their sandbox, so it's a version of the Star Wars universe where people have superpowers. 

One of the things he misses the most is time. As in, having any sense of it. The only hint is the rotation of the guards. They come to restock his food supply every three or five or maybe seven days. He invented his own unit of time for it when he was fourteen. A claptong. It’s the sound the door makes when it opens.

Every seven claptongs, the med droid comes. They poke and prod, weigh and measure. They take samples of anything they want. It’s easier to let them. The guards are friendly until they’re not.

His quarters are large, he has a fully stocked fitness center with a clear transparisteel ceiling covered in shutters. The shutters open between eight and fourteen times each captong to let in sunlight. His bed is comfortable, the food is good and there’s plenty of hot water in the showers. A greenhouse for a very valuable plant.

When the shutters are open, he spends as much time in the light as he can. He strips down to his undershorts and stretches out on the floor. Sometimes he dozes in the sun, and dreams little fragments that he thinks are memories.

Red sand. White armor. Black skies.

The sound of boots in a corridor, and his own furious heartbeat.

A purple beam of light.

Scratching noises.

Scratching noises?

He opens his eyes and sees something on the clear roof he’s never seen before. A woman. She’s dressed all in black, kneeling on the thick transparisteel with some kind of tool in her hands. She looks up, and he realizes she’s talking to another person. A blond man wearing loose, white robes. He gestures, and the woman moves aside.

The transparisteel cracks. A fine web of lines split out, and he rolls out of the way just before a large chunk falls to the floor. There’s a hole in the greenhouse now.

A thick cable drops and a brownish blur slides down the cable and solidifies into a man wearing rough brown fatigues. “You coming or what?” He asks.

A rescue.

He’s thought of escape so many times. Dreamed of it. But never thought anyone would do it for him.

“C’mon pal,” the man says. “We gotta go.”

He looks up at the women in black and the man in white, then back at the man standing in front of him. “Why?”

“Why? Are you fekking-” He looks up at his companions, exasperated.

“Come with us,” the woman says. “Stand out here in the sun, with no barrier between you.”

It’s a tempting offer. They went to all the trouble to break him out, they’re probably not going to torture and kill him. Not immediately, anyway. He does a little math in his head. If he stays, the med droid will come during the next claptong.

“Time’s running out,” the man says, and just like that, he decides to chance it.

For the sun. And for time.

When his head is above the transparisteel and he can feel direct sunlight on his face, the woman reaches out her hand to help him up. There’s a ship behind her, a small craft. A bunch of information tumbles through his head like water, things about ships. Things he knew once. His rescuers all want to rush toward the ship, but he can’t move. He can feel the sun on his skin and the fresh, unfiltered air filling his lungs. It’s real.

The man in brown fatigues curses. “We’ve got to go.”

“Give him a second,” the woman answers, but there’s an edge of worry in her voice. “Luke?”

“I can hold them for a little longer.”

He starts moving because he has to. He doesn’t want to blow this. He wants to ask for reassurance that there will be more sun, and more air, but that seems pathetic. These people want something from him. Maybe something they can’t just take.

The man in brown is the pilot. He drops into his seat and starts pushing buttons. Names keep running through his head, something to do with the buttons. Someone taught him what they were, once.

The passenger area is tight. He sits down and straps in with the man in white on his left and the woman on his right. “I’m Leia, by the way,” she says as the ship takes off. She nods to the man in white. “That’s my brother, Luke. And that’s Han.”

He says nothing. This seems to bother the man she called Han. He looks back into the passenger area anxiously. “We definitely got the right guy, right?”

They want proof. He doesn’t hesitate. He pulls the blaster from the holster on Leia’s hip, spins it towards his own chest and fires.

A fine web of blue electric spans his bare chest for a second and then vanishes. The bolt has been completely absorbed. There’s something about the size and shape of the blaster that makes him want to spin the trigger guard around his finger, but he can’t exactly say why. When he looks up, his three rescuers are staring at him with shock and little trepidation.

“Kriff,” Han mutters from the pilot’s seat. “It’s true.”

The woman nods and takes a slow breath in. She holds out her hand for her gun, and he gives it back to her. “It’s Boba Fett, right?”

“Right.”

“That’s...quite a party trick.”

She means it as a joke. He can see that, even if he doesn’t get the reference. What kind of tricks are played at parties?

“Do you feel it at all?” Luke leans to one side, examining his chest for damage.

“No.”

“And it works anywhere on your body?”

“Yes.”

“And shields,” Leia inquires. “Even disintegrator shields? You can pass through them?”

“Yes.”

“No wonder.” She shakes her head. “Imagine what the Emperor could do with an unlimited supply of you.”

“When is it?” He asks, and she looks confused.

“When is what?”

He pauses and rethinks his question. “How many standard years has it been since the battle of Geonosis?”

“Oh,” she says. She blinks a few times, thinking. “Um. About twenty-two years.”

Twenty-two years. He’s been imprisoned for nineteen of those years. He’s now thirty-two. He has time again.

“Do you, uh,” Luke seems to struggling to find the right words. “Do you understand why you were being held?”

“I killed someone. A mind-reader.”

“Master Mace Windu.” Luke nods. “That was the reason for your imprisonment. But after the rise of the Empire, they needed more troopers. The ones they made from Jango Fett grew old too quickly, so they started trying to clone his clones.”

Jango Fett. He didn’t forget his father’s name. He couldn’t forget his face. But hearing someone else say it is unexpectedly...reassuring. His father was real. Kamino was real. “They’ve been trying to clone me,” he says, giving voice to a suspicion he's had before. “Did they succeed?”

“No,” Leia says in a sober voice. “But not for lack of trying.”

“And you want to stop him.”

“It’s kind of what we do,” Han says from the front. “Welcome to the Rebellion, where nobody tries to clone the talent.”

He remembers watching Han come down that cable, faster than any human possibly could. “You’re a talent too.”

“We all are,” Luke offers. “Han’s very fast. I’m telekinetic.”

He looks at the woman sitting beside him. “What about you?”

“I’m a precog.”

“You can see the future?”

“When I touch something or someone, I often see a glimpse of it in the future. When we first landed on the roof, I saw you, standing on the transparisteel, basking in the sunlight. That’s how I knew it was something you wanted.”

“That seems useful.”

“Sometimes.” Her mouth flattens out, and she looks down at her boots.

“You touched my hand, when you pulled me up. Did you see something then?”

She nods, but doesn’t look up. “I think you’ll join us. I saw...the aftermath of a battle. You’ll be there, fighting with us. And then we’re going to have sex.”

The ship swerves suddenly, forcing him to grab one of the handrails on the wall. Luke nearly loses his seat and cast a wild look at the pilot. “You okay, Han?”

“Oh sure. Just fine.”

Leia raises her head and glares at the back of the pilot’s head for a second. Then she turns toward him in the seat, her expression wry. “It’ll be a hot, but also sad. Like something that might happen after a funeral.”

He doesn’t think she means it as a joke. But he still doesn’t understand. “Are your visions ever wrong?”

“The future is always in motion.”

“So it can be changed.”

“Why do you think I’m telling you about it?” She laces her fingers around her knees. “No offense, but I barely know you. Besides, I’m sleeping with Han right now.”

Luke sits up straighter. “You are?”

“Yes. Not that it’s any of your business.” She gives her brother a hard look, but when she looks at him, her mouth softens into a gentle smile and her eyes are warm. “Let’s just agree that it's not going to happen, okay?"

“Okay.”

“Thank you,” Han mutters.

Leia rolls her eyes at that. “Look, I know it’s probably a little strange, being on the outside. When you’re ready, and only when you’re ready, I’d be happy to introduce you to a friend of mine. She’s very good with people who have come out of...unusual life circumstances. My treat.”

“Are you offering to get me a prostitute?”

“Licensed therapeutic sex worker. And like I said, she’s a friend.”

He’s not used to kindness. And it is a kind offer. The only problem is one he’s just now discovered. He doesn’t want a licensed therapeutic sex worker. He wants a feisty precog with warm brown eyes. He wants the woman who held out her hand and promised him the sun. “No, thank you,” he says.

“I won’t push you, but the offer stands.” She smiles at him again, and bumps his knee with hers in a friendly way. The smile immediately falls off her face, and her eyes drop to the floor. “Damn it,” she hisses between her teeth.

“Leia?” Luke questions, looking concerned. Han turns his head in the pilot’s seat.

“Nothing,” she snaps back. “It’s nothing. Just get us back to the base, all right?” She’s looking at him, but she’s trying not to look at him. There’s a pink flush creeping up the back of her neck to where her braided hair is pinned to her head. He wants to touch that spot. See if it’s warm.

He looks up at the cockpit, where Han is sitting. He still has no idea where they’re taking him. To some “base.” Somewhere with battles in the future.

And Leia.

He hasn't smiled in a long time. It feels strange. 

Chapter Text

PROMPT: W31rd0G4l asked for a Celebrity AU, which is the first time I've done ANY kind of crossover with modern day/our universe and caused me a tremendous amount of stress, but here it is!

The plan was to drive up the coast, shooting picturesque New Zealand scenery as they went, and then stop off at Rose Hill, an organic farm-to-table place that had won numerous awards in various culinary publications to film the actual episode.

That was the plan anyway, before the rain started.

The longer and harder it rained, the worse the roads became. Leia’s producer Lando was a seasoned traveler and used to rural driving conditions, but after an hour or so of splashing and sliding through the mud, even he was forced to concede defeat.

They pulled in at a gas station, and her brother started putting the rain cover on his camera. “I’m going get some b-roll. It might make for a funny bit if we need filler.”

“Okay,” Leia sighed. “I’m going to try to find a restroom.”

The gas station attendant was ninety if he was a day and shrugged when she asked about a bathroom. “I just use the one next door,” he said.

Until then, Leia hadn’t noticed that there was a “next door.” It looked like a takeout place of some kind, but the sign only said “HANGI.” Inside was a counter and three bar stools dividing the kitchen from the dining area. There was no sign of customers or staff, and the only light was a small table lamp on a shelf near the back. “Hello?”

Just beyond the lamp there was a small dark hallway with a door that was halfway open. It looked like a bathroom. Leia decided she would just have to help herself.

She peed and washed her hands, then took a few minutes to fuss with the wet strands of hair working their way out of her ponytail. They would have to go back to the city, and try again when the rain stopped. The network wasn’t going to be happy about the delay in production, but there wasn’t anything she could do about it.

She held up an imaginary fork and gave the mirror her best “OHMYGOD” look. “The freshness of the ingredients really come through,” she gushed. “The lamb is sweet and tender, and the herbs just bounce on your palate like a pair of 11-year old girls in a pillow fight.” She paused and winced a little. “Okay, maybe not.”

She opened the door and nearly had a heart attack, because there was now a man leaning against the counter. He was dark and muscular, his arms folded over his chest and one eyebrow slightly raised.

“We’re closed.”

Embarrassment made her cheeks burn. “Your door was open.”

“That’s so Stu can come over and use the toilet.”

“Oh. Right. Sorry…” She sidled out of the narrow hall, ready to make a break for it. “I’m not from around here. Obviously.”

“American?”

“Yeah. I do show for Food Network, a kind of travel thing. I’m supposed to be eating dinner at Rose Hill in twenty minutes, but the roads are really bad.”

“Huh.” The man peered out the window, where her brother was trying to film in a downpour.

Leia opened the door wide enough to yell out to him. “How’s it going?”

He gave her a thumbs up. “Great! This place is a hellhole!”

If the owner heard the insult, his expression didn’t change. He was in his thirties, Leia thought. Very fit. Black t-shirt and jeans. There were a number of tattoos visible on his arms, and if he turned out to own a motorcycle, Leia wouldn’t be the least bit surprised.  “So, is Hangi your first name or your last name?”

“Hangi,” he said slowly, dropping the H in his pronunciation, “is what we sell.”

She waited, but he didn’t seem interested in elaborating. “C’mon,” she said after a long stretch of silence. “You’re really going to make me google it?”

He pushed off the counter and walked around behind it. Leia cautiously followed, sliding between two bar stools. He took a laminated menu out and let it plop down on the bar. His finger tapped down twice on a picture. “That’s hangi. Only…” he tilted his head to one side and frowned. “Less blue.”

“You’re about due for some new menus,” Leia agreed. The picture was so faded it was hard to get a clear idea, but it looked like some kind of stew. “What’s in it?”

“Pork or lamb. Pumpkin, potatoes, greens.”

“‘Served with fried bread,’” she read off the menu. Her stomach growled audibly. “Sounds great.”

“My dad’s the cook,” he said. “But I can make you a sausage sizzle if you’re hungry.”

Maybe he was hoping for a little good publicity. Was it wrong to take advantage of that? “There’s three of us,” she said. “If it’s not too much trouble…”

“No.” He turned on the grill and reached for a worn apron. “I haven’t eaten either.”

Leia sent a quick text message to Lando and Luke. Don’t fill up on twinkies. There’s a nice man next door who’s going to make us dinner.

Luke responded almost instantly. Lando’s on the phone with Rose Hill. Getting an earful from the manager.

We can’t control the weather. She turned her attention back to her host, who was walking out of the back room with a plate of sausages in one hand and two onions in the other. “I’m Leia, by the way.”

“I’m Boba.” He set the plate down and started cutting the onions. He might not be the cook, but his knife skills were excellent.

“So this is a family business? How long have you been here?”

“My dad’s been here...thirty years, something like that. It’s his business. I just help out.”

“And what do you do when you’re not helping out?”

“Odd jobs.”

“Okay. In America that usually means you fix lawn mowers. And wear suspenders.” He gave her a quick, questioning look, and she recalled that in some countries ‘suspenders’ referred to garter belts. “Braces. You know…” She tried to mime suspenders up and down her chest and accidently flicked her right nipple, which wouldn’t have been that bad if she hadn’t chosen to forgo a bra under her loose linen tank top.

Well, so what if he could see her nipples through her shirt? It wasn’t a crime to want to be comfortable while traveling. It was still a relief when Boba chose to turn back to the grill at that moment. He tested the griddle with a few drops of water, and when they sizzled, he laid the sausages on. The smell filled the small room, and her stomach gurgled again. This was really very nice of him. She picked up her phone. “Can I take a picture for my Instagram?”

“Sure.” He didn’t turn around, so she took a picture of his back, and the sausages sizzling on the grill.

“Do you have a website or a Facebook page?” He turned his head and gave her a blank look. “For your dad’s restaurant?”

“No.” He seemed amused by the suggestion. “We don’t do much online.”

“What?” She replied with dry horror. “How do you survive?” She put a nice retro filter on the picture and added the caption, this guy is making me a sausage sizzler. He is my new best friend. Boba put the onions down on the grill and Leia laid down her phone and inhaled deeply. “Oh. I love that smell.”

“It’s no organic lamb with herbs that jump on your palate like...what was it? 11-year old girls in a pillow fight?” He turned his head just enough that she could see him smirk, and Leia sighed deeply and let her her chin fall to her chest.

“The walls are thin,” he said, turning the sausages.

"In America, what happens in the bathroom is private." But the aroma of sausage and onions cooking was making her very unmotivated to argue with the person cooking them.

Her phone vibrated on the counter and she picked it up. Several people had replied to her post already. The first comment was succinct. Nice arms.

Nice TATS, read the second. Does he look as good from the front???

Leia took another look at the picture. She was more focused on the grill when she took it, but Boba made for a nice foreground with his black t-shirt stretched tight over his broad shoulders. The patterned black tattoos that circled his upper arms just above the elbow were prominently displayed, and just below where the apron ties crossed his waist his jeans certainly did no disservice to his backside.

More comments were pouring in. Leia laughed. “My followers think you’re hot.”

“Your what?” He turned, and she handed him her phone. He looked at it for a moment. “‘Best friends are overrated,’” he read aloud. “‘Marry his ass.’ That’s from someone with the username ‘grandma_of_six.’”

“You’re a viral sensation,” she said as he handed her the phone back. “People talk about their notifications ‘blowing up,’ but that’s the first time it’s ever happened to me.”

Boba didn’t seem to be pleased by his popularity. His expression was very serious as laid out four paper plates on the counter and put a thick slide of white bread on each. “Can you take it down?”

“Sure I can, but why?”

“I don’t want people to know where I live. The kind of work I do...it’s not a good idea.”

Leia raised her eyebrows. “You did say your name was Boba and not Bond, right?”

“Please.”

The door opened, and the sharp smell of rain and mud invaded their space as Luke and Lando sloshed inside. Leia picked up her phone. “There,” she said quietly. “Deleted.” She tilted the screen toward him, and he nodded.

“Thank you.” His gaze was steady on hers, and it took her a second to realize that Luke was talking to her.

“-is Stu and he’s amazing. I did a whole interview with him. I dunno, maybe for a web short or something.”

Lando pulled himself up the stool beside her and breathed in as Boba laid sausages and onions on the bread. “That smells. Amazing. What do we owe you, Friend?”

“Leia already took care of it.” He pulled a piece of register tape off the cash register and scribbled something on it before sliding it across the counter to her.

A phone number. Leia slipped it into her pocket before she picked up her sausage and took a bite. The sausage was flavorful, the onions sweet and the tomato sauce sharp. She closed her eyes as she chewed.

“I know that look,” Luke teased. “Someone’s getting a five-star review on Yelp.”

“We’re not on Yelp,” Boba replied as Leia opened her eyes. She smiled at him around the food she was still chewing, and he smiled back, quick and secretive.

She honestly didn’t care if they ever made it to Rose Hill now. Plans were overrated.

Chapter Text

PROMPT: Like the title says. You people and your mermaids. :P For anyone who hasn't read my other stuff, Dyrk is an OC from the Meeting Like This series. 

 The last thing Leia remembered was reaching for her brother’s hand. It was typical for them to blow off the stress of Theed by taking their solar-sail boat out on one of Naboo’s seas, and they were both experienced at handling the small craft in rough weather.

But this storm...Leia had never seen anything like it. And when the boat capsized, the only thought running furiously through her head was the need to hold on to her brother. If they could stay together, and find something to hold on to, maybe they could survive.

And they had. Somehow. But when Leia opened her eyes, she was floating in a strange, shimmery bubble about six feet in diameter, and she was completely naked. Her first thought was that if this was an afterlife, it was a very, very strange one.

Then she spotted her brother, floating in his own bubble beside her, equally as naked, and even in this bizarre turn of events it was awkward. He flushed and twisted in the transparent orb, which seemed to have air but no gravity. He spoke to her, she could see his mouth move, but she couldn’t hear him.

That was when a school of brightly colored fish swam by and Leia realized that they were underwater. She twisted around and tried to find some glimpse of the surface, but she couldn’t. Panic welled up in her throat when she realized how deep they must be. They were alive but trapped.

Luke suddenly pointed, the motion frantic, his eyes wide. Something larger was moving through the water, something that looked like a man but had a tail and a backfin like a fish. A merman. Leia could only stare. There were legends of mer people beneath the seas of Naboo, but until now she’d thought they were only legends.

The merman stopped, bringing himself upright with a flick of his green and silver tail. From the waist up and from the front, he looked remarkably human. His well-muscled upper body had smooth tan skin and his hair and eyes were black. He carried a long, deadly-looking spear in his right hand, and Leia couldn’t help but think that the jagged tip could pierce her bubble in a second.

A second merman joined him. His tail was reddish, his skin a little lighter, and he had a neat brown beard that framed his wide smile. The first merman said something to him, and the smile vanished. He looked down at the spear in his hand and adjusted his grip slightly. Then he nodded and swam in the direction of Luke’s bubble.

Leia pressed herself against walls that felt almost gelatinous and watched in horror. The merman swam right into the bubble and passed through the walls, spear and all. He was now occupying that small space with Luke, and from the looks of it, talking to him. Her brother was clearly in shock, but he nodded as if he understood him.

Movement out of the corner of her eye made her push back as the first merman breached her own bubble with the same ease. “Don’t be afraid,” he said. “No one is going to hurt you.”

“What the kriff-” she couldn’t really decide between fear, outrage and embarrassment over her lack of clothing. “Where am I?”

“Mandalore.”

He said it so casually. Mandalore. The Kingdom Beneath the Sea. There was a kriffing children’s holofilm about it.

She looked over at Luke in disbelief, but her brother was paying close attention to his merman, who was holding his arm outstretched and seemed to be encouraging Luke to touch him. Her brother grasped his forearm tentatively, and then his bicep, and then laid his palm flat against the merman’s chest. These seemed to please the merman, he smiled encouragingly and gestured at his hip where human-like flesh turned to scales.

When Luke touched him there, the merman turned his head toward Leia’s bubble and made a hand gesture that seemed triumphant. Her merman shrugged and signed back. He didn’t seem impressed. In fact, Leia thought he was little annoyed. “What is he doing?”

“Assimilation protocol. And probably a little flirting.”

“Flirting?” She looked at him sharply and then over into Luke’s bubble. The merman was moving his tail back and forth, demonstrating how it worked. He was watching Luke’s awestruck expression very closely.

“There are three steps we’re supposed to follow when greeting sinkers,” her merman continued. He flicked the spear in his hand and Leia flinched, but it turned pliable and wrapped itself around his waist like a belt. “The first is to keep you calm. The second is to assure you that this is real. The third is to get you to leave the assimilation sphere on your own.”

“Sinkers.” Leia echoed. “So we...drowned.”

“Essentially. You have perished if Grand Mage Satine had not performed the rite of initiation on you.”

“And we’re...we’re underwater.”

“Yes.”

Leia waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t. Instead he folded his arms over his broad chest. “Let’s take this a little slower. What is your name?”

“Leia.”

“I’m Boba. My father, Jango, is the King of Mandalore.”

“Oh. My mother was a queen. An elected queen. I’m not sure what your monarchical system is-”

“Hold that thought.” Boba flicked his tail and the bubble drifted closer to Luke’s bubble. The red-tailed merman was stroking her brother’s side, from his rib cage to his upper thigh. Luke was blushing furiously, but he didn’t really seem like he minded. In fact, she thought it was entirely possible that he’d forgotten she was there, and it kind of pissed her off.

Boba made a few sharp gestures, and Luke’s new merman friend backed up a little and dropped his hand. He was grinning playfully at her brother and fluttering his tail.

“That’s Dyrk,” Boba told her. “He’s very good at assimilating handsome young men, but his manners are occasionally lacking. Is he yours?”

It took her a second to understand what he meant. “Luke? He’s my brother.”

“He is?” Boba’s posture relaxed slightly. “That will make it easier.”

“Make...what easier?”

“Assimilation. We find it’s easier when the sinkers aren’t in pairs.”

The full scope of their situation was becoming clear to her, and her hands clenched into fists at her side. “So you’re not going to let us return to land.”

“You can’t.” His eyes fixed sharply on her face. “Here. Touch my arm.”

A harsh laugh tore from her lips. “I think Dyrk must be better at this.”

One corner of his mouth tipped up. “He is. But it will help. Give me your hand.”

After a second of indecisiveness, she complied. His hand had no particular warmth, but it was solid and real. He laid her palm on his forearm, and remembering what she’d seen her brother do, she slid her fingers up to his bicep, then his shoulder and down to his chest. Boba gave an approving “hmm,” and oddly enough she did feel calmer.

“There are other humans down here,” she said in realization. “Other ‘sinkers.’”

“Yes.”

“And they just live down here? For the rest of their lives?”

“Some of them do.”

“Some?”

“There will be an adjustment period.” His dark eyes were very serious. “During this time, I won’t leave your side. We find that by then, sinkers either fully assimilate, try to kill us, or kill themselves.”

Leia stared up at him, a lump in her throat she couldn’t swallow. She tried to pull her hand away, but he captured it easily and held it tight against his chest.

“It will be easier if you take it one step at a time. You are calm. You’ve accepted that this is real. That’s good.”

He was trying. She would give him that. She watched a fish swim by outside the bubble and inhaled, slow and deep. “You said the last step was to leave the sphere. But how? I’ll drown.”

“Watch my tail,” he said, his voice low and even. “See how it moves? How am I doing that?”

There was a roaring noise in her head that grew steadily louder, but his hand over hers and the solidness of his flesh beneath her palm kept her anchored.

“We’re in water now,” she said slowly, the words barely audible. “I’m breathing...water.”

“Yes. And that’s why you can never go back.”

Her eyes sought out her brother, the only person in all the worlds who understood what she was trying to process. But his bubble was empty. “Luke!”

“There.” Boba pointed. Luke was moving effortlessly through the water, mimicking the movements of his guide. He turned easily and waved at her, his self-consciousness apparently forgotten.

“That was quick,” she muttered as Dyrk stretched out a hand and her brother swam towards it.

“Yes,” Boba agreed, with obvious annoyance. “He’s very good.”

Chapter Text

PROMPT: A Robin Hood AU where Boba takes the role of Guy of Gisborne. Requested by NyeLung. 

“Well, hello friend.”

Boba raised his head, following the direction of the bright, inquisitive voice. He’d seen the slim figure moving merrily along the path in the woods, but chose not to rise from his seat, or remove his back from a thick yew tree. Sometimes there was more to gained by letting others speak first.

But when this lone figure spoke, it confirmed a suspicion he formed when his eyes caught the first glimpse of movement among the trees. This was no spritely young lad, but a spritely young lass, dressed in a man’s tunic and carrying a bow and quiver upon her back. Her hair, likely bound and braided, was tucked under her cap, but there could be no question as to her sex. She was a pretty lass, and her voice was soft and clear. “What, pray tell, is that thing you’re wearing? I have never seen the like.”

She was gazing at his cloak, fashioned as it was from hides of the larger beasts on the Vhettan planes. Wools and linens were more common here in the eastern lands of Nottinghaan, but Boba preferred the deep, sheltering hood and the hide’s natural resistance to poor weather. “In truth, I have never seen a maid so poorly disguised as a man, so we are both in a state of wonder.”

She pursed her lips at him. “You call it a disguise, I call it a convenient style of dress. Should I tramp about these woods in a skirt heavy with mud and with long hair that catches on every twig and branch?”

“You should tramp about however you wish, as long as your tramping takes you away from me.”

Instead of discouraging her attention, she seemed amused. She placed her hands on her hips. “Such testy words and such a dark expression! Did you breakfast on vinegar and nettles this morn?”

“If you don’t like my words, take care,” he replied coldly. “My actions tend far worse.”

“No, you mistake me.” She crouched down in front of him, bringing her face level to his. “I like your words. You are clearly a man of wit for one so well-favored in appearance.”

She was mocking him, and she did so without fear, which greatly annoyed him. He pulled his cloak back just enough to show her the sword he wore on one hip, and the curved dagger on the other. “Run along, little maid. Unless you mean to offer me some more pleasant diversion with your tongue.”

Her smile only widened. “My tongue offers many pleasant diversions, but your tongue, sir, has me transfixed. You are clearly not from this land, and I only wish to know your name.”

“Boba. From Vhett.”

“Vhett!” She sat down on the ground in front of him and crossed her legs. “I have heard of Vhett, but I have never been. There are not as many trees there, I think. I have heard that the plains are broad and the living can be quite difficult.”

‘Difficult’ truly did not encompass it. Vhett was nearly barren by now, and the inhabitants were subjected to the rule of callous lords. Boba’s escape from his homelands had not come easily, nor without cost. But none of that he felt inclined to share with this impudent little wench. Still, she spoke well, and her knowledge of the lands suggested she was no yeoman’s daughter. Perhaps she could be useful to him in his quest.

“I have traveled a long ways,” he told her. “In search of man believed to have turned to thievery.”

“Thievery?” She leaned forward, her eyes wide. “What sort of thievery?”

“All kinds. In other lands he went by the name Han of Solat, but now he calls himself Robin Hood.”

“I have heard that name,” she said thoughtfully. “It is said Robin Hood robs the landlords and the dishonest merchants, and gives the excess to the poor.”

“Whatever his cause is, it matters not to me. I am to bring him to justice.”

“You will have no regret then, if Robin is a good and honest soul who has fallen into the ill graces of the powerful and corrupt?”

“I am no judge, young maid. I am charged with finding him, and my reward depends on my success.”

“Is gold so dear to you?”

“A question only posed by those who have it,” he replied curtly. “If gold will not entice you and your people, what could I offer for word of this Robin Hood?”

“Now you have me thinking of tongues again,” she mused. “And what fickle things they are. They may impart delight or devastation, truth or falsehoods.”

“You’ll hear no falsehoods from mine, for I’m a man of my word. If you help me find this woodland rascal, I’ll render some valuable service to you in return. I’m a man of many talents.”

“On that score, I do believe you.” Her eyes drifted boldly downward on his person. “Tell me, my Vhettan friend, is that a quiver ‘round you?”

“It is.”

“I have heard some call Robin Hood a great archer. Do you think of yourself as such?”

“I am the best in all of Vhett. Not one of the king’s bowmen could best me.”

“That is commendable. But we all consider ourselves to be fair archers here in Nottinghaan. I daresay a child newly weaned could best a royal bowman.”

He heard the challenge in her voice, and it straightened his back. “Perhaps a contest, then. If I triumph, you will loose your tongue on Robin Hood and his movements in these woods to my satisfaction.”

“And If I triumph?” She raised her brows. “Will you loose your tongue to my satisfaction?”

Boba folded his arms over his chest. “To demand such a prize on the mere promise of knowledge is no fair wager.”

This gave her a moment's pause, but only a moment's. She leaned forward, so far that she braced her hand on the opposite side of his outstretched legs and in doing so, gave him a fair view down the neckline of her tunic. “Let us say,” she offered, “that the loser of our contest, whomever they shall be, shall be obliged to kneel before the winner and assure their comfort.”

Her lips parted prettily as she smiled at him. “Also, if I am defeated I will give you the location of Robin Hood, which is well known to me.”

“I believe we have an accord.”

They rose as one, but the maid caught a small, thick branch in her hand as she stood. “Here is a proper target,” she said. She drew a knife from her belt and sharpened the tip, while Boba watched with suspicion. It didn’t look like any kind of shooting target that he had ever seen. She bent and planted the tip in the ground at the base of the yew tree. “Come, let us find our place.”

He expected her to count off ten paces, but she did not stop. Not at ten, not at twelve, and not at fourteen. At sixteen paces she came to sharp stop and turned, drawing her bow from her back. “This is how we shoot in Nottinghaan. Surely an archer such as yourself can split that wand.”

Boba was quite sure the devil himself couldn’t perform such a feat at this distance, which made this a curious kind of trap. Either the maid truly wished to kneel before him, or she wished him well distracted. Perhaps Robin Hood was nearby, and she was buying time for his escape.

He unhooked his hide cloak and brought his own bow to his hand as he weighed his options. To concede the match gained him nothing. He might as well try to win. He strung his bow in silence and looked down the shaft of his first arrow. The target seemed impossibly small, but the son of a poor farmer had not made his name in Vhett by mediocrity.

The arrow struck the ground less than a handspan from the wand. It was an excellent shot, but the maid seemed unimpressed. He shot again, and this time his arrow struck only a thumb's width from the target.

“Hmm,” the maid pronounced. “Two middling attempts. I hope your tongue is better at finding its mark.”

“You will not do better,” Boba retorted, taking a step back and planting his feet. “But far be it for me to question your ability to address a wand.”

“Nor should you. What a shame your wand will never know it.” She stepped up and drew back her bow in one smooth motion, and her arrow flew. It struck the thumb's width of space between the target and his own arrow, and Boba felt a seizure of air in his chest. Her second arrow swiftly followed and split the wand neatly down the middle.

“There!” She cried triumphantly. “If you cannot win a simple contest, how will you ever capture Robin Hood?”

The shock of it jarred a thought loose in his mind. A thought about the identity of Robin Hood.

“Don’t look so glum, Boba of Vhett.” She drew closer to him, her cheeks flushed with victory. “There’s a quiet grove near here with a soft mossy ground. If you spread your cloak out for me and see me well satisfied, perhaps I will tell you of Robin’s whereabouts after all.”

He looked down at her. “Perhaps there is no longer the need.” Her jubilation faded into wariness, and her hand drew back to the hilt of her shortsword. But instead of drawing his own blade, he stooped to retrieve his cloak. “I am a man of my word,” he said. “Show me this quiet grove.”

Chapter Text

PROMPT: AU with a De-Aged Boba. Yet another trope I had no fricken' idea what do with. :P

“Senator.”

Leia had been walking briskly along the garden path, taking her usual route from her office to her speeder, but now she stopped to size up the young man in her path. He was in his early twenties with dark hair and eyes and smooth tan skin. He wore a worn poncho over his clothing, the kind of thing that any number of weapons could be hidden under.

“Do I know you?”

“We have met,” he said. “But I’m not surprised you don’t recognize me.”

There was something familiar about his voice, or maybe his manner of speaking. Deep. Low. A little flat. He was the right age to be a pilot, maybe they had spoken over a commlink at a military station or base.

“I need to speak with you,” he said, his dark eyes intent on her face. “It’s very important. Can we go inside?”

“I’m afraid I’m headed home for the day. Could you call my administrator and set up an appointment? Let him know we spoke, I’m sure he can fit you in tomorrow.”

“It’s about your son,” he said, and Leia’s heart skipped a beat. Ben. What could have-

No. Ben was with Luke. He was with Luke and he was safe. But she found herself turning back towards her office anyway. “I have a few minutes if you can make it fast.”

“Yes, Senator. Of course.”

Once inside, she gestured to the visitors chair in front of her desk, and after a moment of hesitation, he sat. Leia claimed her own seat, feeling slightly more at ease behind her desk and within reach of the blaster in the top right drawer. “Perhaps you could remind me of your name.”

“It’s Fett. Boba Fett.” He clearly expected a reaction, but Leia had none. The name meant nothing to her. Her visitor grimaced. “I’m a bounty hunter. Your husband might remember me better.”

“He’s not my...we’re divorced.”

“Oh.”

“Officially this year, but unofficially for a while. That’s really neither here nor there. Han knows a lot of bounty hunters. You said we met. When did we meet?”

“Bespin. Lando Calrissian had just invited you to dinner.”

Memory was such a funny thing. Once he invoked Cloud City, she could see the doors sliding open as clear as day. There was the large, black shape of Darth Vader, and behind him, a smaller man wearing Mandalorian combat armor. Boba Fett, whose face she never saw. “Is this some kind of joke?” She asked, more than a little annoyed.

“No.”

“So you’re claiming to be the same bounty hunter I encountered twenty years ago?” She raised her eyebrows and looked him over pointedly. “You must be barely twenty yourself.”

His expression was grim. He didn’t seem to be joking. “Do you want me to prove it? Your-Solo, he drew his blaster immediately and fired. Vader blocked it with his hand.”

Leia stared at him, shocked into silence. How could he know that? Who had he talked to?

“I remember what you said in the carbon freezing chamber. I remember the name of the bounty hunter you were disguised as when you entered Jabba’s palace. Do you want me to describe what Jabba made you wear while you were his prisoner?”

She lifted her chin. “The only thing I wish to remember from Jabba’s palace is the gurgling noise he made when I strangled him.”

One corner of his mouth lifted slightly, and he nodded in acknowledgement. “Fair enough. Do you believe me now?”

“Believe...what? That you haven’t aged?”

“It’s worse than that.” He hunched forward as he spoke. “I was twelve when the Clone Wars ended, which I think makes me at least at least decade older than you. Something happened to me. I was stabbed with a syringe in a laboratory thirty-six standard days ago.” He raised his head and met her eyes with dread. “I’ve been growing younger every day.”

“That’s-”

“It sounds crazy. But I can’t help that. The scumbag that stabbed me is an unstable little prick and I can’t get anything out of him. There’s no record of anything like this happening before, with one exception.” He exhaled. “Kamino.”

“Kamino.” Leia blinked in realization. “You mean the clones. The clone army.”

“I was always told I was unaltered. Pure genetic replication. But there must be something-” His jaw tightened in frustration. “The records are all sealed. Top level clearance.”

“Oh.” Leia understood now, at least partly. “That’s where I come in.”

He nodded. “I realize credits are of little use to you, but if there’s some service I can render in exchange-”

“No. Don’t worry about it. Truthfully, I’m...very curious about this whole thing.” She straightened in her chair and pulled her computer terminal closer. “But just to be clear, this has nothing to do with my son.”

“No. That was a lie.” He seemed to relax a little, leaning back in his chair. “I’ve seen him. He doesn’t take after you.”

Leia logged into the government document portal, and submitted her request. “So you said you were stabbed thirty-six days ago. When did you start to notice?”

“Not right away. At first it was things like fewer backaches. Weight loss. More energy. Then one day I looked at my hands.” He held them outstretched. “I broke two knuckles about six years back, but they look completely normal. Then other scars started fading. The scars from the sarlacc...I woke up one morning and they were gone.”

Leia had forgotten that he’d fallen into the pit of Carkoon. She was busy with other things at the time. “There are days when I would like to be twenty years younger again.”

He exhaled in a short, bitter laugh. “But what if it doesn’t stop? Will I regress to an infant? Die an embryo?”

“I see your point.” Leia tilted her head to one side as she considered the task before her. Time was clearly of the essence. “Whatever our quarrels in the past, Fett, you’re safe here. I’ll do what I can to help.”

His eyes dropped to the floor. “Thank you,” he said in a low voice.

“And just out of curiousity, how many blasters do you have on you right now?”

“Blasters? Only two.”

“But you have other weapons?”

After a moment of hesitation, he lifted the edge of his poncho just enough to show the array of deadly tools strapped to his mid-section. “I thought you might need persuading.”

“Clearly.” Leia shook her head. The terminal chimed as the requested documents began to transmit. It was...a lot. “Why don’t you look through that rotary of menus over there and order us something to eat. It’s going to be a long night.”

Chapter Text

PROMPT: The request was for a Rogue One AU, which naturally I fulfilled in the least intuitive way possible. 

It began like a soft thrum in his head, like the reverberating flutter of a thousand insect wings. It built gradually in volume and intensity, tearing through the inner chambers of his ears until every corner of his skull was throbbing.

Vomiting and helmets. Never a good mix.

The smell and taste of sick filled his nose and mouth, and as soon as the noise receded enough to allow conscious thought and he could muster some control of his hands, he yanked his helmet off. It made a metallic clang as it hit the floor of the cargo bay, and his body convulsed in reflexive pain.

He was facedown on the cold metal. Didn’t remember how he got there.

Boba Fett slowly braced his forearms against the floor and looked up at the black figure looming over him. “What-” His throat was raw. Was that from throwing up, or had he been screaming? “What did you do to me?”

“I’ll ask you one more time,” Darth Vader said in his low, resonate voice. “Where are the plans?”

Fett spat, trying to expel the taste from his mouth. “What. Did. You. Do. To. Me.” He started to rise, but the fluttering started again and nausea rose up in the back of his throat. He made it no further than his hands and knees. “Transmitter,” he said, because it didn’t matter now. “They’re in the transmitter.”

They must have injected him with something. He couldn’t say for sure how long he was unconscious after Vader picked him up using the Force and threw him into the bulkhead. He vaguely heard the scuff of the stormtrooper’s boots as he climbed up the ladder into the cockpit of Slave I. “They’re here, my lord,” he reported. “But...they’ve already been sent.”

Fett could hear the rise in pitch in the trooper’s voice.

“Who was the recipient?”

The trooper scuffed his way slowly back over and handed Vader a datareader. “The princess.” The sith lord’s voice ended in a hiss.

Her ship had to have made the jump by now. Vader could fume all he wanted, but Leia was safe. It was his only consolation in what were probably the final moments of his life.

“You disappoint me, bounty hunter. Your talents are wasted in the Rebellion.”

Fett wiped his face and carefully eased back onto his knees. “My talents have always been for hire. You never minded when it benefited you.”

“What were you paid to commit treason against the Empire?”

“I never discuss-” Pain surged through his head, turning his muscles into liquid. He hunched over, the smell of vomit still sharp in his nose. When the thrumming, throbbing pain suddenly left, a wretched, pitiful gasp escaped him.

This was not how he wanted to die. “Die fighting,” his father always told him. “Die with honor.”

“Nothing,” he said, when he was sure he could control his voice. “I was paid nothing. I didn’t do it for the Rebellion. I did it for her.”

For a moment, the only sound was the rasp of Vader’s respirator. There was a sort of grim humor in imagining his face, if he still had one under that mask. And since these were his last seconds, Fett thought they might as well be as full of such petty pleasures as possible.

He thought about Leia’s face. Not the face she would make when she learned of his demise, but the last, hasty farewell. “If you can’t get the plans out-”

“I’ll get them out,” he told her. “You have my word.”

It was rushed and awkward. The bunk was too narrow. It didn’t matter to him. Every step he’d taken toward her since the day she blasted his swoop bike to bits on Dantooine, he’d wanted this. It didn’t matter how it happened. It happened.

It was something.

“Leave us.” Stormtrooper boots retreated from the cargo bay, and Fett raised his head, watching the sith lord warily.

“What do you know of Order 66?”

“Not as much as you do.”

“Have you ever heard that all clones were implanted with a biochip by your Kaminoan creators?” Vader moved slowly towards the bins beside his repair station, gazing down at the collection of spare armor and weapons. “It was said to have made them more obedient, and dependent on their Jedi commanders. But it was also said that this biochip is what led them to kill the Jedi when Order 66 was given.”

He pulled a helmet out of the bin, a battered Phase I clonetrooper helmet with the receptors stripped out. “You were, after all, made from the same materials as they were. Did you ever question whether you were truly, as they told your father, unaltered?”

The helmet dropped from Vader’s hand, crashing into the floor and scattering little bits of plastoid-alloy. Fett swallowed back a fresh wave of nausea.

“Tell me, bounty hunter. If you were implanted with the same chip, could I command you to hunt down the princess and destroy her?”

There was something not right here, it fizzed restlessly at the edges of his mind. He shook his head, ignoring the residual pain. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because there was no chip. The Jedi rose up against the Emperor and the clones were forced to execute them for treason.” It was a matter of finding the right answer. The one the man who used to be Anakin Skywalker wanted to hear.

“Treason always has its cost,” Vader rumbled, “which brings us back to the subject of what to do about yours.”

Telling him to get it over with would accomplish nothing. Fett knew that. He waited in silence.

“The biochips of the clones was a myth. But we have had some success using a cruder, more immediate type of biochip implant on the Wookiee population. The effects of which, you have now experienced for yourself.” Vader paused. “Stand up.”

Apparently he didn’t move fast enough for the sith lord. Or maybe it didn’t matter. The throbbing filled his head, crushing every strung-out, fragile nerve. His retching did no good. His stomach was empty.

“Stand up,” Vader said again, and gave him enough time to get his feet beneath him. The cargo hold swam around him, watery until he blinked and Vader’s dark shape became clear. Fett swallowed the acid bile in his mouth.

“You work for me now, bounty hunter. Exclusively.”

Chapter Text

PROMPT: Just like the title says, a Witch Hunter AU. 

She heard the footsteps on the stairs, and curse escaped her lips. The ink was still wet, but there was nothing to be done about it. She was out of time. Leia blew hastily on the narrow strip of paper and hurried over to the window as the footsteps paused outside her bedchamber door. She threw open the window and a small gray pigeon left its perch in a nearby elm tree and landed on the sil. The paper twisted uncooperatively in her fingers as she clumsily rolled it.

The door flung open, and the bird startled before she could fasten her message to its leg. The paper fell to the sil, and on a luckier day, might have rolled out into the brush and been swept away by a breeze.

Today was not such a day.

It rolled toward her instead, and raced down the slope of her skirts towards the floor. She reached for it, but a strong, gloved hand closed around her wrist as swiftly as a hawk’s talon snaring a field mouse. Her eyes followed the paper’s journey helplessly as it reached the floor and was immediately covered by a thick black boot.

She didn’t need to raise her eyes, the scent of leather and cool earth was enough to identify the man who served as Baron Tarkin’s headsman. But Leia refused to be cowed, even with death holding her arm. She straightened as much as his grip would allow and dropped a graceful curtsy. “Master Fett.”

“Mistress Organa.” He did not remove his tall hat, but he did release her arm. “Go and sit on the bed.”

She obeyed the curt order, adrenaline still racing through her veins and causing her hands to tremble as she folded them in her lap. “I trust you have good reason for invading my privacy.”

The headsman dropped to one knee, his dark cloak falling around him, and retrieved the paper from under the edge of his boot. The ink had smudged, but not enough to completely obscure the writing. He rose back to his feet, turning it over in his hand.

“Would you like for me to read it to you?” Leia offered with biting sweetness. “I imagine a man who reads only death warrants might struggle with it.”

“I’ve never seen letters like these,” he admitted. “They say this is how you write your spells.”

“If that’s true, perhaps a man should have more care in how he handles them.”

A smirk crossed his face as he tucked the paper into a pouch fastened to his belt. “I’ve been arresting and questioning the accused since I was a lad. Not one has managed to curse me yet.”

“Really?” Leia raised her eyebrows. “You awaken each morning in a cold and lonely bed, and you never feel that you are unfortunate in any way?”

Fett held her gaze, his dark eyes steady and unblinking. “Perhaps I like my bed the way it is.”

“Or perhaps you think your wife will one day return to it.”

The headsman took a step closer to the bed, his voice low and menacing. “By order of the baron, I have the authority to search you, question you and arrest you. Yet you seem very determined to provoke me.”

She shrugged. “I would like to hear the charges before I begin my groveling.”

“You stand accused of witchcraft. Of writing hexes and casting spells. You have been seen in communion with dark figures in the woods, and consorting with low men at the wharf.”

“I suppose you mean Captain Solo.”

“Such wanton behavior is common among those under the devil’s power.” He shrugged. “Or so I’m told.”

“You’ve never struck me as a man of great religious fervency, Master Fett, so I must ask you. Do you think I’m a witch?”

“No,” he said immediately and with certainty. “I think you’re a spy.”

The shock felt like ice in her veins, but under his sharp eyes, she knew she mustn’t give any sign. She drew her brows together and pursed her lips instead. “Now there is an interesting thought. Is wanton behavior also common among the treasonous?”

“I wouldn’t know,” he returned. “But furtive meetings and associations with strange people often are. Not to mention the sending of notes written in code.” Here he patted the pouch that held her intercepted note. “You might prefer accusations of witchcraft. You have people that will speak for you, and you might be able to survive a bout in the dunking chair. Treason is not as easily disputed.”

“That’s true,” she said, rising from the bed. “And yet, I fear you are mistaken.” He watched her warily as she approached him. “You see, I commune with the living Force, which Bishop Motti sees fit to call ‘the devil.’ I feel the Force in every living creature and it harkens to my command. You may call me a witch. There was a different name for it, long ago, in a place far from here.”

The headsman took a step back, his shoulders drawn tight under his cloak. “Is this a confession, Mistress Organa?”

“No, Master Fett. It’s a threat.” She halted her advance, and laid her hands at her waist in a ladylike pose. “Would you like to see my unholy minions? They’re just outside.”

His eyes darted toward the open window, where the gray pigeon had returned to perch. It fluttered back as he drew nearer, and took flight. Leia watched his broad shoulders fill the window’s frame, his tall hat silhouetted in the square of light. She could easily imagine how it must look to him, to see the yard below and every tree filled and laden with birds. It was the silence people found the most unnerving, for not one bird would make a sound while they waited for her command. Thousands of tiny, sharp eyes watched the headsman as he slowly reached out, and drew the window closed.

It was a gesture of surrender.

Fett turned her, his expression grim. He said nothing.

“You’ve tried many an accused witch,” she acknowledged. “And you’ve found a few of us. But you are not prepared to contend with me. You could arrest me. You could draw your knife and slit my throat, but every moment thereafter you spend in the open air you would be attacked by every bird within a hundred leagues.”

“What do you want?” He asked.

“To live in peace, of course.” She smiled brightly at him. “I suggest you return to the baron. Tell him you searched my house and my person. Tell him you examined me for the devil’s mark. Tell him in great detail how unblemished you found my skin.” Her lips quirked up in amusement. “Just to please the lecherous old pissbucket. Tell him how perfectly I knelt and recited my prayers. Then you should go about your business, sorry and wretched as it is, and I will go about mine.”

“Mother of God,” the headsman swore in a low tone of resignation. “A spy and a witch.”

“But you only have proof of one of those things,” Leia reminded him.

“Unless I break your code. Can your army of sparrows protect you if all the townspeople see proof of your treason?”

She gave him no answer to that. Instead she gave him another curtsy, more sweeping and grand than the first one. “Good day, Master Fett.”

“Good day, Mistress Organa.” This time he removed his hat and bowed. When he straightened, his eyes met hers briefly. He wouldn’t be easily dissuaded, Leia could see that. He would try to figure out a way to beat her.

She was almost looking forward to it.

Chapter Text

PROMPT: An AU where Boba was raised by Cut and Suu Lawquane. 

Suu heard her husband’s footsteps, but she didn’t look up. She kept scrubbing the pan in the sink, even though her fingers were beginning to cramp.

“They’ll be gone tomorrow,” Cut said.

“I know. It’s not that.” He put his hand on her shoulder, and Suu relented just a little. “It’s not entirely that.”

“Bo didn’t want to worry you. That’s why he kept it from us.”

“I know,” she said again, and released the pan. She leaned over the sink, her montrails dangling. “They needed help, with their pilot gone and the princess injured. I don’t blame him for hiding them. It just...Do you remember when Rex first brought him here?”

“Hard to forget.” Cut leaned his hip against the edge of the counter. “He tried to kill me.”

“He was so angry. I didn’t know if he would ever trust us.”

“He trusted you first. Remember when he was hoarding blasters in the barn?”

“Or that time he lifted a knife off that mercenary in the cantina?”

“He was old enough to know better then.” Cut shook his head. “Remember when the Dana boy accused him of stealing his speeder?”

“Oh.” Suu covered her mouth with a hand that smelled like dishwater. “That was not...he could have-”
“But he didn’t. And it was because of you.” Cut took her other hand. “You’re the reason he stayed.”

“Don’t sell yourself short.” She paused. “We’ve been lucky, you know? All of our children stayed. Shaeenah’s still here. Jek and Mtam. We have all the help we need, and we’ve had peace. I wish Boba understood how rare that is.”

Her husband squeezed her hand. “He had a rough life before he came to us. He understands.”

Suu sighed. “But he’s still going to leave with the rebels.”

“That’s got nothing to do with us. It’s that damn restless streak.”

“There’s also the princess.”

Cut dropped her hand and stroked his chin. “The way he looks at her. He admires her. Are you sure there’s more to it than that?”

“Yes. He particularly admires her backside.” She shook her head. “You know how careful he is. He’s playing it slow. Can’t risk his big chance to get offworld by being a one-night stand.”

“Suu-”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” She pressed her lips together. “I want him to be happy. But will he be happy out there? Fighting for the rebellion?”

“He might. Let’s face it, he’s not a farmer.” Cut smiled, but it was a pained expression. “He’s got too much of his father in him.”

Chapter Text

PROMPT: A Game of Thrones style fantasy AU where Boba is Leia's bodyguard. 

 “What’s he doing here?”

A hush fell fell over the council room. Leia had been listening intently to Lady Mothma, but now she found herself staring in confusion at Captain Han Solo, who was late, as usual. “I beg your pardon?”

“The fucking Mandalorian,” he snapped. All the lords and ladies at the table drew in a breath at his words. The captain’s mouth had a reputation worthy of his long career at sea.

Leia maintained her composure with some effort. “If we could just take a short break…”

“Of course, Your Highness.” The Duke of Antilles rose first, and the others followed suit. Only when the door shut behind them did Leia turn to her consort, who was glaring daggers at the man who stood silently in the corner of the room. He wore the unmistakable armor of the Mandalorians over dark clothing, and a cloth wrapped around his face so that only his eyes were visible. Those eyes were now fixed on Captain Solo.

“I needed a bodyguard," Leia said as she rose from the table. 

“Why? You have me. You have Luke.”

“Are you by my side every minute of every day?” She walked slowly over to the sideboard and poured herself a glass of wine. “I would never ask that of you. You would miss your ship too much. And my brother is away more than he’s here, thanks to his grand idea to open a wizarding school.”

“So you brought in a mercenary?”

“He has a name.”

“I know his name,” Han nearly snarled. “Every lowlife crook and portside gang boss knows his name. Boba. Fett.” He drew out the syllables in a menacing way. “His own people want nothing to do with him, so he sells himself to the highest bidder.”

Fett said nothing in response to this. He didn’t even blink.

“I had my own run in with him in the hovels of Tattooine,” Han continued, undeterred by the lack of response. “This bastard drugged me, wrapped me up in a shroud and delivered me to Jabba the Hutt.”

“Is that true?” Leia asked, directing her question at Fett.

“Captain Solo owed him money.”

“Which I was going to pay back!” Han protested before turning to face her again. “What about your royal guard?”

“Considering the last monarch was killed by a member of his royal guard, the council thought it would be wise to bring in an outsider.”

“An outsider with no loyalty except to those who pay him. How can you be sure you can trust him?”

“Because she pays me.” Fett said, his tone even and cool.

“There. See?” Leia lifted her glass to her lips and took a generous sip. “I you don’t like it, you can take it up with the council. We fought too hard to let an assassination throw everything into chaos. Not to mention, I would prefer not to die in the first six weeks of my reign.”

“There has to be another way,” Han grumbled, but she could see that he was weakening.

“I really think this is the simplest solution. Boba is with me when I’m at court, he’s at my side when I’m eating and he sleeps in my chamber at night. I’m safe and the council is happy.”

“Wait. He sleeps in your chamber?”

“Well, yes. Unless I have company, I suppose.” She looked at him through her lashes and was pleased to see that crooked grin emerge. “You'll just have to get his permission.”

The grin vanished. “What?”

“I’m jesting with you.” She tossed back the rest of her wine. “Can we please resume the meeting now? There are other things I would like to do today.”

Han seemed to be in better humor now, even with her teasing. “Am I one of those things?”

“You could be.” Leia crossed back over the sideboard and set her empty glass down. “Why don’t you go out into the hall and invite everyone back in?”

As soon as the captain vanished through the door she looked over at her bodyguard, and their eyes met. “Do I need to find another room tonight?” He asked.

“Just for tonight. He never stays long.” She couldn’t see his face under his wrap, but she could imagine the faint curl of his lips. She was really becoming quite familiar with his subtle tones and expressions. She supposed after spending nearly every minute together for the past two weeks, some level of intimacy was inevitable. He was a steady, silent shadow, watching every interaction and sizing up every person in her presence.

Not that he wasn’t capable of conversation. Last night while she was bathing they had quite a spirited exchange about trade regulations and the mercenary proved well-traveled and knowledgeable about the border cities. Han would undoubtedly not appreciate the fact that she rose from the water still engaged in conversation, and dressed in full view of the other man.

It seemed a wholly natural thing to do at the time, and Fett himself seemed to have very little regard for standards of propriety. Only days ago, when she was out with a hunting party they found themselves separated from the group, and the mercenary took the opportunity to relieve himself not three paces from where she stood.

The lack of privacy between them was a necessity. Yet there was a moment after she emerged from the bath, just the barest second, where she caught his eyes following her. And not as they usually did.

She looked at the inscrutable man across the room now, and her pulse quickened just a little. Fett caught her gaze and one dark brow lifted questioningly, but she dropped her eyes and turned without a word and returned to the council table. The council members were entering the room, and so was Han.

These thoughts would have to wait.

Chapter Text

Leia couldn’t recall ever feeling so at ease. Between the responsibility of caring for the Organa estate and her duties at court there wasn’t time in her life for a great deal of relaxation. As much as she treasured her time out of doors she seldom took the time to recline in the shade of a great birch tree as she was now. 

A gentle breeze stirred through the leaves above her head as she stretched out her limbs before letting them fall back into repose. If she inhaled deeply enough she could fill her senses with both the earthy scent of the woods and the traces of sweat and leather clinging to the rough woolen greatcoat beneath her. 

Her gaze dropped to the person partially responsible for her state of rest as he idly tucked his clothing back in place. This was how it always ended. She would return to her duties and Boba Fett would saunter back down the hill to his father’s house of trade and the two of them would resume a distant public acquaintance save for the occasional assembly.

People said she was a modern idealist for attending such lowbrow country dances, but the truth was that Leia found all dances nearly intolerable. The village assemblies were full of dull conversation shouted loudly over stomping feet. There was but one reason for her attendance, and it was for the opportunity it gave her to trifle with Boba Fett under the noses of their clueless acquaintances. 

He looked back at her now, a smile pulling at his usually sober mouth, and his self-congratulation over her state made her want to pull him down by his shirt collar. His smug manner was not so involatile when he lay beside her. 

But this could not continue. She had made up her mind to tell him so this morning, and then upon seeing him was distracted by their amorous activities.  She sighed and drew herself up to sit. “Boba, I have something to say and I beg you to let me say it without interruption.”

At once his stance shifted, as if he were readying for a fight. Not an uncommon occurrence in his world. But even more than that, he withdrew all expression, as if anticipating some dreadful news. 

“Don’t look at me like that.” She patted the space beside her in invitation.

“You have something to say,” he said without moving. “Say it.”

“Very well.” She drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. “I have tried in vain to deny it, but it cannot be avoided now. I must tell you that I love you, and I think we should be wed.” This was clearly not the news he was expecting to receive, and yet he appeared more confused than elated. 

Leia forged onward, trusting that his nimble mind would catch up. “I fully recognize the ridiculousness of the notion. I have reasoned with myself as I would reason with any friend about to make such a disastrous choice. I have reminded myself that your family’s profession, your father’s traitorous past and your complete lack of social connections make this match undesirable in every way…and yet my desire will not be quieted.” Rising up on her knees she extended her hand. “If you would care to make your proposal now I am prepared to accept it.”

Still, he didn’t move. He looked down at her hand, and then away. “So that I may continue satisfying your desire in a more convenient manner?”

Leia’s hand dropped to her side. “I said nothing so crass.”

“No.” His jaw was tight, dark eyes simmering with an emotion she couldn’t give name to. “You merely stated that there was no other reason to marry me.”

Her brows lifted at that. “If you heard me say that your ardor is your only charm, let me relieve you of the burden of that belief. You have many admirable qualities, but I must be rational. If we are betrothed my family and friends will not hold back their opinions.”

“I’ve never sought their opinions,” he said, bending towards her. “And I have never cared about yours. This was a pleasant diversion and now it seems to be at an end.” He grasped the edge of his coat as he spoke and yanked it out from beneath her knees, brushing the grass and dirt from it with unnecessary vigor. 

“You expect me to believe that you never saw our trysts as an advantage? That you never saw my companionship as the means to redeem the reputation of your father?”

“I can assure you that I was not thinking of my father while between your legs.”

“You might think of yourself. As my husband you would manage my estate. You would never have to labor for anyone else.”

“I might otherwise have the misfortune of working for someone who thinks I am inferior.”

“I have never said so!”

“Not to my face. And not until now.”

Leia drew back, indignant. “I am not prone to flights of fancy about how we are judged in this world. But I see now that I should have flattered you and appealed to your masculinity.” She straightened her arms and pulled her shoulders back, fully aware of the effect on her bosom. “You would not care to come to my bed every night?”

“I have nothing more to say to you,” he said without so much as a look in her direction. “If you can compose yourself, I will walk you back to the village.”

It would not do to traipse back alone like a milkmaid. Leia furiously set about straightening her long skirt and feeling about her neckline for any undesirable displacement of her chemise and stays. She retrieved her gloves and hat last and set off, her chin held high. The absolute nerve of Boba Fett, to imply that she was the one who was somehow deficient in character, with everything she was prepared to offer him. With everything she was prepared to sacrifice on his behalf!

She was hardly two paces down the slope when she heard her own thoughts with different ears, perhaps ones more similar to the man who walked silently a half step ahead. He was right, of course, there was nothing inferior about working in trade. His father might have once been branded a traitor but he also was granted a full pardon and gave every indication of being reformed. Leia was a firm believer in the equality of all, even though the society she was born into held different opinions.

Perhaps she cared more for their opinions than she thought. 

When they reached the alley between the stable and the leather shop, Boba surveyed the exit into the street, just as he always did. “I see none of our acquaintances,” he said shortly when he returned to her side. “Good day.”

“Boba, wait-” she put a hand on his arm, and he raised an eyebrow. 

“Someone might see.”

“Let them.” She dropped her hand, however. She couldn’t bear to touch him and see such coldness in his eyes. “I am in the wrong, and I am ashamed of myself. I can only hope that you’ll forgive me in time, when I’ve shown myself to be corrected.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“No, I beg yours. It was ungracious of me to assume that you would propose on command. If you never sought my affection then I have no right to expect yours but…I spoke truthfully, if badly.” It was even harder to look into his eyes now, knowing that she might well be rejected. “I would marry you, if you asked. Without condition or expectation. Simply for your good company and in the hopes that I might one day have your love.”

He looked down at her, his mouth parted just a little. His eyes were not cold but held the motion of a thousand thoughts flying through them. 

“If that is not your wish, then I hope-”

“You have it.” He said abruptly. He took her hand and held it both of his. “You have my love, Leia. You spoke truthfully, and I did not. So we are both at fault.”

Her heart lept as the warmth returned to his gaze. “I am far more at fault.”

“But also more likely to admit it.” He raised her hand and kissed it, and she could feel the achingly familiar press of his lips through her glove. 

“Mr. Fett. Were you not just concerned about what people might see?”

“There is nothing to see apart from a man kissing his betrothed.”

Until that moment she never thought it was possible to feel the peace of the trees and the breeze inside herself. “Is that truly what you want?”

“If it were up to me we would go to the priest at once and then to bed for the rest of the afternoon.” He lowered her hand but didn’t release it. “But that would only lead to speculation, so we have to do things properly, I suppose.”

“Yes. With all the announcements and all the arrangements.” Her fingers squeezed his. “But we shall at least have more excuses to be in one another’s company. And after the wedding…there will be nothing to keep us apart.” 

Chapter Text

“Must I do this?”

“You asked me to find you a wife,” his father reminded him. 

Boba Fett kept his voice low, mindful that Prince Bail stood nearby. “Somehow I didn’t consider that I might find myself put out to stud for a duchess.”

“That’s not-”

“Is it not? Tell me again why a lady of the court who stands to inherit a fortune wants to marry the son of a horse breeder apart from the fact that his father has eleven sons.”

“Talk to her,” Jango insisted, grasping his shoulders and turning him towards the orchard. 

His betrothed waited for him, a slight, solitary figure in the midst of the blossoming pear trees. Duchess Leia Amidala Skywalker, the heir to her deceased mother’s fortune and the ward of Prince Bail Organa and his wife, Lady Breha. She was twenty-three, beautiful and wealthy and the fact that hadn’t succumbed to some nobleman’s charms by now made Boba more suspicious than flattered. 

If Jango had been born into a noble family he would likely be Master of the Horse for the king, but even that wouldn’t have put his third-born son on the same level as a duchess. 

“Mr. Fett.” She spoke first, with a marginal dip of her chin as she extended her hand. 

“Duchess.” He could hardly bow over her hand in these clothes. The prince had provided them. His younger brothers had laughed until they wept before Jango chased them off with threats to make them muck out the stables until sundown. 

“It’s not that bad,” Cody offered. 

“We do these things for the ladies,” Rex said with the preening wisdom of a newlywed. “You’ll get used to it.”

“Shall we walk?” The duchess couldn’t even make it sound like a question. It was a command. Boba offered his arm and cursed his fate. 

“People describe you as a practical man, Mr. Fett.” She glanced up at him. “Would you say that’s an accurate portrayal of your character?”

“I would.”

“People often describe me as ‘particular.’ They say I have a very fixed view of what I want.” 

He could feel the tension in her small hand even through his greatcoat. “And you want to be married.”

“Not in the least,” she responded quickly. “But I must be married to gain full control of my estate. And to keep that control I must have an heir.”

It was a relief that he was not expected to dance around the topic. Boba was never much of a dancer. “I am aware of my responsibility.”

Her discomfort was clear, but she did not pause. “The problem is...I do not actually wish to have children.”

“You said-”

“I cannot say so openly, because there would be all but open warfare among my relations to determine who would inherit the estate if I remain childless. Lord Palpatine, for example, would like nothing better than to add my lands to his.”

It was well known that Palpatine mistreated and starved his tenets for his own gain. Boba thought better of her for her intention to thwart him. “Who would you see inherit it, if not your son?”

She didn’t answer him. Her eyes dropped to the tall grass they walked in and for a few seconds there was only the noise of their footsteps and the buzzing of the honey bees. “There is a condition in my bloodline,” she said at last, quietly. “Some call it magic. Others, madness. It’s why my brother was sent away and it afflicted our father as well.”

“It affects only the men of your line?”

“Or perhaps it is more visible in the men.” She stopped walking and withdrew her arm. “By royal decree, my brother cannot inherit. But he is not mad. We correspond in secret.”

“You want your brother to be reinstated.”

“And I am fixed in what I want.” She took a deep breath. “If you will aid me in keeping up appearances, I will be a generous wife. You will have an annual sum to squander as you please, and if you want for company, I shall say nothing of any discrete alliances. I only ask that you not presume for yourself a place in my bed.”

Already she was far more interesting than he ever imagined, and Boba could also appreciate her skill in negotiation. She held all the cards save one, the rights to her body in the legal contract of marriage, so she sought instead to pacify him with money and dalliances. 

“My father once had a young stallion,” he said, reaching up above her head to break a twig from a pear tree. “A careless groom left the latch to his padlock open and he got into the mare’s enclosure. He picked a mare and tried to mount her, but the mare wasn’t in heat.” As he spoke he stripped the smaller buds and sprouts from the twig. “She so savaged him that the stallion had to be put down. And the groom who left the gate unlatched, my father took him to Brightview pier and let him go.”

The duchesses’ brows drew together. “He took him to the lake to dismiss him?”

“No, he held him off the pier and let him go. The man couldn’t swim, but lucky for him it was a dry summer and the water wasn’t so deep. He was also dismissed,” Boba added, bending the green twig into a loose knot. 

“I…I have heard that the Fetts have their own way of doing business.”

“The point is, I know well enough when a woman wants me and when she doesn’t. Unless you bid me directly to come to your bed and lay with you I will never presume otherwise.” He took her hand and placed the knotted twig in it, closing her gloved fingers over it. “It’s a tradition my brothers and I have. When you make a promise, you give the other person something to remember it by.”

As soon as he released her hand she opened it and looked down at the knotted twig resting on her palm. Her hand closed over it and she raised her eyes to his, a rosy hue in her cheeks. “I would never have thought so,” she admitted. “But at this moment I feel that such an invitation is not outside the realm of possibility.”

Her amazement was no less than his. He now craved that invitation. He wanted this determined little duchess to want him. “I will wait on your word. And there are acts we might engage in that wouldn’t result in children.” If she were willing and they weren’t so well chaperoned he might be tempted toward such acts now. 

“I am not entirely uninformed of this,” she responded, dropping her eyes. “And I am…encouraged that we are of one mind.” She made a visible attempt to compose herself, straightening her skirts and tucking the knotted twig into her sash. “I suppose we should inform your father and the prince that the marriage plans may proceed.”

Boba offered his arm again, and this time her grip was firm as she took it. Almost proprietary. “As my lady wishes.”

Chapter Text

PROMPT: A Vampire AU planted into my brain by Nyelung

It’s dusk when Leia leaves her room, lamp in hand. With the curtains parted there is still enough light to see by, but in all common areas of the house the drapery is drawn tight. The master of the house suffers terrible headaches from light and so prefers shadows and gloom.

It’s a good story. She believed it once.

She slips quietly into Rey’s room first and tucks the blankets in around the sleeping girl. She never thought being a governess would suit her, especially after her uncle thwarted her true ambitions, but she has grown genuinely fond of Rey. She’s an orphan, as Leia is, both with solitary men as their guardians. She has her uncle and Rey has Mr. Fett, who took her in after both of her parents were slain in their beds by an unknown assailant. 

The people of Mossbrook praise his kindness but all admit he’s a strange man. A handsome man, who apart from his headaches, gives every appearance of vigor. Yet he seeks no wife or companion. The only visitors to his manor house are the staff, who do not live on the premises and his attorney, who often brings along his son Finn along to play with Rey. 

When Leia took the position, his instructions were explicit that Rey should not fall into his isolated patterns. “She must have an education and friends. She is an active child and she should be outside as often as the weather allows.”

This suits Leia well, as she was an active child herself. She takes Rey beyond the garden walls and they roam the woods. They climb rocks and wade into streams. They come home with muddy hems, hair askew and no one aside from the laundress looks askance. Every morning and evening Leia brings Rey to Mr. Fett’s study, a dire, windowless room she feels certain was meant to be a pantry. Rey doesn’t mind the stuffy atmosphere. She reports happily on their plans or activities and then wishes her guardian good night or good morning. 

Sometimes she confuses the phrases, wishing him a good morning at night and a good night at morning, but he never corrects her. He responds in kind no matter what she says. 

Leia would be more inclined to believe him to be a kind man if he were a man at all. 

She suspects that he is not. 

From Rey’s room she turns down the hall. His bedchamber is at the very back of the house. The lamp quivers a little in her hand but she keeps on, determined to persist. Perhaps if she were just a woman avoiding the title of “spinster” by seeking employment she would be content with her pay and the roof over her head. Perhaps she would not notice that she has never seen Mr. Fett eat or drink, and that he rides out at night and does not return for hours. 

She has begun to track these occurrences. While Rey is at her music lesson in the village she reads the paper and takes note of any events within a certain distance. Disappearances. Deaths. People and animals found drained of blood. Strange markings found on the throats of people who don’t remember how they occurred. 

The door creaks as she pushes it open. It’s a large room, well decorated, with a four poster bed. A fortnight ago she tucked a copper coin in the bedding, carefully concealed in a place where it would be easily dislodged by anyone using or making the bed. 

She sets her lamp on the nightstand and feels for the crease in the brocade coverlet. The coin is still there, just where she left it. 

There is a certain humor in the fact that Uncle Ben refused to train her in the ways of her ancestors, a long line of Skywalker monster hunters. It’s no life for a young woman, he told her emphatically. I cannot lose you as I lost your father. So she took a posting as a governess instead and now finds herself in the lair of a vampire. 

He’ll have a coffin somewhere. That’s his true bed. 

Her heart pounds as she looks down at the coin in her hand. If she slays this unholy being, her uncle will have no choice but to see her destiny. 

“Miss Skywalker?”

She reacts on pure instinct and adrenaline, dropping the coin to the floor and reaching into the pocket of her skirts. Fett is behind her and then in front of her and then sprawled out on his bed with Leia on top of him and a sharp-tipped wooden stake poised over his chest.

She whittled it herself in the woods while waiting for Rey to climb down from the top of a tall fir tree. 

The attack might have taken him by surprise, but once his eyes fall on the stake the transformation is instantaneous. Dark eyes heat to a glowing gold, like an ember in a smithy’s fire and sharp fangs emerge from his parted lips. “I knew you were clever,” he says. “It almost seems a shame to undo all of your hard work.”

“You can’t mesmerize me.” With her free hand she opens the hook that closes her bodice at the neck. Her hands are shaking and two more hooks pull free. Why should she care if he can see the top of her corset and chemise? The important part is the birthmark just below her clavicle. The same mark her father had. 

“A trueborn hunter,” he says in a measured tone. “Remarkable.”

“I am Leia Skywalker, the daughter of Anakin Skywalker, slayer of demons. And today you will meet your end.”

“You appear to have me at a disadvantage,” he acknowledges. “But your mark only protects you from enchantment. At any point I could throw you into that wall and bury my teeth in your throat, but I have not.”

She would laugh if she weren’t still breathless. “You claim to have spared me while I hold a stake to your chest?”

“Aside from this unfortunate incident, you have been an exemplary caretaker. I would prefer not to deprive Rey of your company.”

“You have no heart or soul. How can you claim to care for a human child?”

“And yet, I have cared for a human child since the day she was orphaned. Her relatives abandoned her. The people of the village said she was cursed to madness because she witnessed her parents’ murder. I took her in and made her my heir.” A smile curls his mouth, baring more of his deadly teeth. “I also found the man who killed her parents. The blood of killers in a fine vintage, Miss Skywalker.”

“Do not speak my name, you monster.”

“What should I call the woman who has me in such a compromising position?” His hands move to her hips, a touch she can feel even through her bunched skirts. “Perhaps you would prefer ‘wife.’”

“How dare you.” She presses the stake into his shirt, her face flushed hot. 

“Consider this, little hunter. Rey cannot legally inherit my estate until she comes of age. Kill me now and she will once again lose her home and security. If you can abandon her to that fate, you are the monster, not I.”

“First you question my honor and then you play on it.”

“I do not play with my daughter’s future, Miss Skywalker. You know the truth about me now. If you marry me you will have control of my estate and can therefore protect her.”

“This is only an appealing case for being your widow.”

“If you marry a dead man, what else are you? You may try to stake me again as often as you wish. I would not deny you the opportunity to hone your skills.” His tongue briefly appears, running along the edge of his fangs. “But in the future you should expect me to defend myself.”

Her breath catches in her throat. She should drive the pointed tip into his undead flesh. He’s a wretched, unnatural being who only feels warm and solid beneath her because he drinks the blood of other human beings. But she cannot argue with his logic. If she slays him Rey will be orphaned for the second time in her young life. And if she marries him-

No. It’s madness to even consider it. 

Fett drops his hands to the bed and pushes himself up with no regard for the stake she still holds loosely in her hand. Their faces are inches apart and his eyes are still glowing with the fire of the immortal. “If it is monsters you want to hunt, I can help you find them.” One hand rises to touch her cheek and then lingers at her throat, caressing her skin just over her hammering pulse. “There are many in this part of the world, some human and some not. People want them gone, so badly that they will pay handsomely for their disposal. Marry me, and we will hunt them together.”

Chapter Text

PROMPT: A Witcher AU. Full disclosure, I have not read the books so this is mainly in the spirit of the Netflix series.

Ten years ago, the princess was abducted. Taken prisoner by the sorcerer Jabben who wed her by force and kept her bound by enchantment to his cursed stronghold at Mospera. That’s the story they tell, the story Boba was told when he was hired. 

“Doesn’t look very cursed, does it?” Fenn Shysa is a bard who sometimes travels with him, spinning songs and tales at taverns to draw in crowds and pay for their lodging. Boba prefers to work alone but he can’t argue with results. Both his ability to find work and his ability to avoid suspicious crowds with pitchforks have increased since the bard joined him. 

He can’t argue with Fenn’s assessment either. The village of Mospera is clearly prosperous, the town square is decorated with flowers and banners for a market day that is coming to an end as they arrive. The rich scent of stew is in the air as the people return to their homes for supper. A vendor approaches, proffering meat pies at a discount, and Fenn swiftly charms the directions to Jabben’s keep from him. 

“I’ll just stay here and wait for you,” the bard informs Boba, still smiling at the vendor. He’s a handsome man and his cheeks are very rosy when he looks at Fenn. 

Boba continues on alone. No one stops him until he reaches the gate. “My name is Boba of Fett. I’m here on business to see Master Jabben.”

The guards exchange a look. They escort him to an audience chamber, where he is presently greeted by a bald man in the dignified robes of an advisor. “Greetings to you, traveler. I am called Bibar and it would be my pleasure to assist you with your business here.”

“I must see Master Jabben.”

“It’s not possible, I’m afraid.”

“It’s about his wife.” 

That provokes a response. Bibar stills and then clasps his hands. “One moment, please.” When he returns, he holds the door open. “This way. The lady will speak to you.”

He’s interrupting her dinner. A generous table has been set for Princess Leia of Nabu, who reclines comfortably on cushions with a goblet of wine in her hand. The portrait he was shown gave a good likeness of her beauty, making her easily identifiable even ten years later. Her long brown hair hangs to her waist, loosely bound with ribbons, and large dark eyes watch his entrance. 

“So,” she says. “You have some business here which you will not reveal, and it must have something to do with me. Speak, sir.”

“May we speak in private, my lady?”

Her eyes shift to Bibar and she gives a slight nod. “Very well.”

The advisor leaves and Boba steps forward. “My name is Boba of Fett. I was sent here to kill Jabben and break his enchantment.”

“Ahhh. But you are not a sorcerer.” She speaks with confidence, her eyes assessing. “Surely they haven’t sent a witcher.”

“What can you tell me about the curse?”

She pauses to finish the wine in her cup, the gesture unhurried. “Can I offer you a drink? Some food?”

“Are you bound from discussing it?”

“No.” She sits up a little and refills her glass from a gilded pitcher. “There is no point in discussing it. It cannot be broken.”

“All curses can be broken.”

“This one can only be broken by one thing. My maidenhead.” In the silence that follows she sighs and motions to a bench. “Sit, Witcher. I will tell you the tale.”

He does, his hand on his sword hilt. It can only be a matter of time before his purpose here is discovered. 

“Jabben was a more clever rapist than most. He cursed me to never leave this keep while I was still a virgin. He knew no one else would dare touch his wife, so he thought it would force me to offer myself up to him. Then one night he was eating crushfruits in bed and choked on a pit. He died with his wish unfulfilled.”

This was a twist he did not anticipate. “Jabben is dead.”

“Dead and buried for many years.”

“But the curse remains.”

“It troubles me very little. I have done my best to be a just and fair ruler in his stead, and the people of Mospera have rewarded me with their loyalty.”

Her lack of self-pity is admirable, but something about the story doesn’t quite seem right to Boba. “You could have broken the curse on your own after Jabben’s death.”

“The only people I see are my subordinates, and how could I ask such a thing of them?” She waves her goblet with too much abandon, wine sloshing over the rim. 

“You could have had someone brought to you. Someone from outside of Mospera.”

“I’m afraid the number of volunteers to enter a cursed stronghold is a slim number, present company excluded.” Her eyes drop down to his feet and back up again before she sets down her goblet. “I have had a long day of reviewing accounts and now I have indulged too much with my dinner. Please help yourself if you are so inclined. Bibar will show you out when you are ready to leave.”

She stands abruptly and sways, her hands outstretched for balance. Boba is quickly at her side, steadying her with a hand on her arm. “Perhaps we could also offer you a bath for your trouble,” she says, looking up at him with a soft, teasing smile. “I would see to it myself but I think I must go to bed.”

“Do you need help getting to your chamber, my lady?”

Her full lips part. “If you would be so kind.” He sweeps her up into his arms, and she laughs as she settles her arms around her neck. “I’ve heard so many terrible things about witchers, and yet I find you to be very pleasant company, Boba.”

He doesn’t answer. He’s already retracing his steps, moving as swiftly as he can. 

“This is not the way to my chambers.” Even in her inebriated state, she notices. “Where are you taking me?”

“I thought some fresh air might do you good.”

“What? No!” She kicks and struggles, but he has a good grip and will not relinquish it. “I cannot go outside you fool-”

As soon as they’re through the gate she falls silent. Boba sets her down, and she glares at him, plainly furious. “How dare you deceive me!”

“Deceit for deceit. You broke the curse long ago, why have you not returned home?”

“This is my home! But you had to keep sniffing like some starving dog-” She shoves him, which doesn’t have much of an impact. “If you try to make me go with you I swear to you I’ll scream loudly enough to bring every soldier in the barracks.”

She tries to push him again and Boba catches her arms, holding her in place. “You don’t want me to kill your soldiers.”

Her resolve crumples a little at that. “I will not go back to Nabu.”

“Tell me what happened. The truth.”

He releases her arms and she takes a step back, drawing in a shuddering breath. “Nabu has long been under the influence of the sorcerer Palpatine. He sought to use my brother and I as bargaining chips by wedding us to empires as cruel and brutish as he wants Nabu to be. When I saw how my brother was traded off like livestock I ran. And then Jabben found me.”

Her arms fold tight over her chest as she continues. “Everything I told you about the curse was the truth. Every night before he laid down beside me he would tell me that I would give up eventually. That I would beg him to have me. So one night, as he slept, I smothered him with a pillow.”

“By yourself?”

“It was not easy. He fought, but my determination was great and I knew what the consequences would be if I failed. When I was sure his breathing had stilled I cut up the crushfruit and used the handle of a fireplace poker to push the pit down into his throat.”

“Fuck.”

“Jabben was not well liked. The people accepted his death quite readily.” She spread her hands at the walls and buildings around them. “Here I may do as I please with my life and my body. And as long as the myth of the curse prevails, I am free.”

With a heavy sigh, Boba turns away from her, his feet bound for the village. 

“Where are you going?”

“To tell my bard that he’d best start writing a new song if he wants to eat tomorrow.”

“Wait.” She hurries after him. “You will leave empty-handed?”

“I came here to kill a monster. You beat me to it.”

She catches his sleeve, forcing him to halt. “Remain here tonight. In the morning I will see you and your bard fed and provisioned.” 

“Why would you have me stay here?”

Her hand slides up his arm. “There are no curses to be broken here, Witcher. And no monsters to slay. But I would still welcome the company of someone who is not my subordinate.”

“You’re drunk.”

“And you are in dire need of a bath.” She steps in closer, tilting her head back to look up at him. “By the time you are clean, I will likely be sober.”

Chapter Text

PROMPT: A dystopian AU where Leia saves Boba

They caught another one. Leia’s stomach knotted as the sentry guards dragged the human into sight. 

“Humans in armor,” RA-7 sniffed. “Will they never learn?”

Leia took a closer look. He was bleeding and barely able to stand, but his armor was unmistakable. A Mandalorian. Legendary warriors, according to the Archive. Their people were notorious for surviving extinction. “What will happen to him?”

“The same thing that happens to every human who tries to escape.” RA-7 lowered her head. “It’s a great comfort to me, Le-a, that you know better than to attempt such foolishness.”

The sentries were trying to remove the Mandalorian’s armor, with limited success. Their protocol said that escapees should be executed with a single shot to the head, but the scorch marks on their prisoner’s helmet suggested that this had already been attempted. 

“Honestly,” RA-7 huffed. “If these old separatist units can’t learn to adapt, they’ll never evolve past their rank. You there! Just remove the head, and then complete your task.”

The Mandalorian held up his hands. “Wait.” He removed the helmet himself. He was older than Leia, maybe old enough to have fought against the first droid rebellion. He was handsome, even bloody and injured, with sweat-soaked black curls and tan skin. 

“Can I have him?” Leia asked before she could stop herself.

RA-7 turned her head towards Leia, the lights in her photoreceptors blinking a little quicker than normal. “For what purpose?”

“For company.” Leia’s mind raced. What would make sense to a droid? “And for warmth. The Archive is cold at night.”

“I have observed that your body temperature is often lower than it should be for optimal health.”

One of the sentries shoved the man to his knees and placed the barrel of its blasting arm against the man’s forehead. Droids didn’t like to be rushed, but time was running out. “Please, your excellency.”

“Oh, very well. Stop!” RA-7 moved towards the prisoner and Leia quickly followed. “I will be taking the human. Here is my authorization code.”

The sentry scanned her code and then beeped once in approval. “Governor of the Archive. Acknowledged. All praise to our savior, L3-37.”

“All praise to L3-37.” RA-7 responded. “Please remove the rest of his armor.”

“I’ll do it,” the man muttered, leaning out of their reach. When his armor was in a pile on the ground, RA-7 gestured at his blood-soaked undersuit. “The cloth garments as well. You cannot bring such unsanitary items into the Archive.”

With a resigned sigh, he continued to strip until he stood naked in front of them. 

“You will wash him,” RA-7 told Leia. 

“Of course, your excellency.” 

“And see to it that he has proper food and exercise. There’s nothing more pitiful than a sick human.”

“I will.”

“Unfortunately he appears to be breeding compatible. Shall I have that taken care of?”

Leia kept her attention on the droid so she wouldn’t have to dwell on her own embarrassment or the prisoner’s horror. “It might not be wise in his current condition, your excellency.”

“He does not look well,” RA-7 agreed. “But he does appear to be working. Your body temperature has risen considerably. Take him to your rooms and clean him up.”

“Thank you.” Leia gave her a respectful bow and turned to the man she had just rescued. “Come with me.” She forced herself to keep a sedate pace because it was clear that he was too injured to move quickly. As they walked she let her shawl drop from her shoulders and handed it to him. He tied it around his waist but said nothing until they reached Leia’s small room in the cellar of the Archive. 

“Can you get my armor back?”

His words stunned her so much she froze. “Your armor ? You should be glad you still have your head. And-” she waved at his midsection. “that.”

“I am, but I need my armor.”

“Sit down,” she ordered, pointing stiff-armed at her bed. “You can worry about your armor when the bleeding stops.”

“I’ve never seen a human with so much influence here.”

“Don’t confuse strategy for power,” she returned sharply as she knelt to remove her medkit from under the bed. So many of these items were a rarity now.  Most of the droid governors didn’t see the point in “repairing” humans who would grow old and die anyway. RA-7 was the exception, but she couldn’t control supply and demand. 

“How long have you been here at the Archive?”

“Since I was eleven years old.” She laid out her kit on the floor as she spoke. “I was traveling with my father when the droids attacked the core. Their protocol said not to harm children, so I was brought here and RA-7 took me on as her assistant. I provide human interpretation for oral histories of the galaxy.” 

“You’ve been here twelve years.”

“Yes.” She injected him in the thigh with one of her last stims and dipped a sterile pad in bacta. “I spent a year on the oral history of the True Mandalorians. I recognized the clan markings on your armor.”

“It was my father’s.”

“Did you fight in the rebellion?”

“No.” He hissed as she began to clean the deep cut on his forearm. “I was a bounty hunter. I didn’t want to get involved.”

Her hand stilled. “How could you think you had a choice?” He didn’t answer. After a few seconds she resumed tending to his wound. “I’ll try to help you get your armor back,” she said. “But you have to do as I say. Be polite to the droids. Stay close to me.”

"I will." Two fingers brushed her chin, warm, human fingers and her body flushed with heat as she raised her eyes to his. “Thank you.” His mouth pulled up in a quick, tired smile. “I’m Boba, by the way.”

“Leia.”

His fingers withdrew and his gaze sharpened. “Leia. Organa?”

She felt dizzy with shock. “How do you know my name?”

“I know your mother. Breha Organa.”

“My...my mother. She’s alive?”

“Plenty of humans are, outside the core.” He leaned closer. “I wasn’t trying to escape when I was caught. Your mother pays me to get humans out of droid occupied territory.”

Leia could barely hear him over the roar in her ears. “You...have you done it before?”

“I’m on my twenty-sixth run.” He leaned back against the wall, confident in spite of his battered state. “Help me get my armor back and I'll get you back to your family."

Chapter Text

“It’s Mandalorian.” Her father’s voice was hushed. He sounded worried. “I recognize the lettering.”

“Could we have it translated?”

Leia rubbed her leg just above her knee as she listened to her parents whispering outside her door. The darker patch of skin had always been there. Her mother said she always had. It was only after her tenth birthday that the color began to deepen and the foreign letters began to take shape. 

“Yes, but should we?” Her father continued. “This whole business of soulmates, it’s a lot of pressure. Maybe it’s best if she doesn’t know.”

Her mother sounded uncertain. “There’s a lot she doesn’t know, Bail. What if this is one thing too many?”

“You have a soulmark?” Sabine Wren’s eyes went wide.

“You don’t think it’s crazy?”

“My parents have them...so, no. My dad’s says, “I’m looking” and my mom’s says, “look at this beautiful sight!” My dad was painting a picture of a lake when they met, and he wanted her to look at the view and she wanted to look at him.” Sabine shrugged. “And those were the first words they said to one another. My mom says she was just grateful that hers was in Mando’a.”

Leia fidgeted, keeping an eye out for anyone passing in the hall of the rebel base. “Mine is in Mando’a too.”

“It is? That means it’s your soulmate’s first language!”

“I looked it up, but the translation wasn’t exact. It’s just one word. Slana’pir.”

“Huh.” Sabine considered that for a few seconds. “That can mean ‘get lost’ or ‘go away’ depending on the context. It’s kind of a funny thing for someone to say as their first words to you. The first letter, does it angle at the bottom? This way?” She illustrated with her hand.

Leia had to think about it. “No. The other way.”

“That’s interesting. It means they’re probably Concordian, from Concordia or Concord Dawn.” She grinned. “A hick Mandalorian, you know? In some places they use slana’pir literally, from a Concordian it’s more likely to be a threat.”

“Great,” Leia replied dryly. “I’ll just keep my eyes peeled for a Mandalorian who instantly threatens me. Are your parents...it’s real for them?”

“Oh yeah. They’re really happy together. My dad always says he doesn’t mind dying at the same time as my mom, because he can’t imagine living without her.”

“Wait. You die if your soulmate does?”

“That’s part of the deal. Once you meet and exchange words, you literally can’t live without one another.”

“But what if it’s someone you pass on the street and never speak to?”

“Then I guess you do what you want like everyone else.”

Leia couldn’t understand the grunts of the Gamorrean guards who dragged her through the door. They tossed her in the direction of the bed and left, locking the door behind them. The room was simple, the only furniture was a bed. 

Jabba had made the terms of her captivity clear with the scraps of metal and cloth she was forced to wear. She was a trophy for the Hutt to display. So why lock her in here?

She paced for a while. When she got tired of pacing she sat on the bed, her eyes fixed on the door. That quickly became boring and so she laid down, curled up on her side. At some point she fell asleep.

When she woke up there were voices outside the door. Bib Fortuna, the Twi’lek majordomo, and a second voice. 

Boba Fett.

Leia bolted upright. Of course. Jabba was passing her on as a bonus to his pet hunter. Her hands curled into fists as the door opened and the Mandalorian bounty hunter strode in. 

“Get out.” 

She resisted the urge to cover her soulmark with her hand. “Congratulations,” she snarled instead. “You can read.”

He didn’t respond. He stood frozen in front of the door until it finally occurred to Leia that something had happened. “The fuck,” he whispered, the words barely audible through his helmet. Suddenly he was moving towards her, and before she could scramble away he was on his knees at her feet, his hand on her leg. His gloved fingers scrubbed across her soulmark as if he was trying to rub it off. 

“Ow!” She pulled her leg up under her, shoving him away. “Get off me!”

He straightened, started to walk away and then turned back. And then away again, as if he had lost all sense of direction. “It can’t be,” he said to no one.

“Are you on spice?”

He laughed, a harsh, unexpected sound that caused a burst of static in his helmet. “I wish this were a spice dream, but neither of us is going to get that lucky.” He lifted off his helmet, setting it on a table before he removed his jetpack. He was in his thirties, with dark curly hair and tan skin. A handsome man, in spite of his grim expression. He looked as if he wanted to be doing anything other than what he was doing.

He stripped off his bracers and then worked open the flak vest his chest plates attached to. When he started opening the neck of his flight suit Leia realized that he was undressing.

“Let’s get one thing clear,” she said. “Lay a hand on me and one of us is going to die.”

“I’m not going to touch you.” He said it scornfully, as if the very idea was offensive. “I have to show you something.”

“Why?”

His anger faded a little. “I think you have a right to know.” He pulled his arms out of the sleeves of his flight suit and let the top half hang over his belt. He wore a white sleeveless undershirt beneath it, which he pulled over his head in one smooth motion. His back was all smooth skin and muscle, except for a few scattered scars and the line of aurebesh letters that ran vertically down along his spine. 

Congratulations. You can read.

“Oh my gods.” Leia could scarcely breathe. “You...you didn’t read it. It was just...the first words you said.”

“Seems impossible that we haven’t spoken before. But even on Bespin we never talked. Not directly.”

“It’s you,” Leia said, still trying to process it. “You’re the hick Mandalorian. From...Concorda...or something.”

He blinked at her. “Concord Dawn. And I’m not. But my dad was.” He waited a moment, as if he was trying to decide something. “When did they show up for you? The actual words, I mean.”

“I was ten, I think.”

“Me too.” A smile appeared, fleeting but sincere. “My dad said they were funny. Like a joke.” He shook his head. “It’s a fucking joke, all right.”

“Tell me about it.” Leia rubbed her temple. “My soulmate is a bounty hunter.”

“And mine is in love with someone else.” Fett winced as if something had just occurred to him. “I’ve got to get you out of here.”

“What? Why?”

“Because if I don’t you’ll get yourself killed trying to rescue Solo. You know what happens now, right? Now that we’ve met? If you die, I die.”

“You could help me. Help me get Han out and-”

“And what? You’ll marry him, move to the outer rim and live a long, peaceful life?” His tone was rich with skepticism.

“Maybe I will,” she lied, trying not to think about the rebel forces gathering on Yavin IV. 

He looked at her for a moment in silence and then dropped his gaze. “I’ll leave. Whatever plans you have, I’m not part of them. We’ll both just try to...stay alive.” His shoulders rose and fell in one sharp breath. “Since we probably won’t see each other again, is there anything you want to know?”

Leia plucked at the blanket on the bed. “I guess you’ve heard some of the same things I have.”

The bounty hunter shrugged. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious.” 

“I didn’t feel anything when you…” she gestured at her leg. 

“Might have been blocked by the gloves.”

“Yeah. That makes sense, I guess.” It might be her only chance to test it. “If you want to try it again…”

He worked his glove off his right hand and approached her cautiously. His hand spread over her thigh, covering his words completely. Leia felt nothing. She gingerly placed her hand on his naked back, over her own words. 

And then she felt everything. 

It was...a connection. She could think of no other word to describe it. This person belonged to her. His life, his body, his mind and his soul. He fit her like home. She looked up into his eyes, eyes that reflected the same intense longing. “Oh no,” she breathed, overwhelmed and shaking. 

“Yeah,” Fett gasped as he leaned in and kissed her and it was perfect the way no kiss between two strangers should be. Leia’s hand went to his chest and then up around his neck as the kiss deepened and then she was wrapped around him and they were both nearly horizontal on the bed.

And then suddenly he was pushing away, detangling himself from the embrace. He turned his back to her and clutched at his head as if he had a stabbing headache. “No,” he growled. “No fucking way.”

Leia couldn’t take her eyes off the words on his back. Her words. She wanted to touch him again. To hold him and comfort him. But clearly that wasn’t what he wanted. She swallowed the lump that was suddenly in her throat. “So I guess that’s real.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, still facing away. “No matter what some stupid magic tattoo says, that was out of line.”

“It wasn’t…” She didn’t know how to finish that. Was it better or worse if it truly wasn’t what he wanted? For that matter, how could she be sure that it was what she wanted? “No apology necessary,” she said finally.

“That’s gracious of you.” He reached for his undershirt and pulled it back on. “I think I have all the information I need.”

“Yes,” Leia agreed. “So what now?”

“Now I ask you for a favor.” He turned to face her and he put his arms through the sleeves of his flightsuit. “Be careful. Play along with Jabba and don’t do anything that might get you tossed in the rancor pit.”

She inhaled slowly, weighing her options. “I’ll try if you do one thing for me.”

“What?”

“Don’t leave.”

His hands stilled for a second, and then he looked away. “It’s going to be hell,” he said, almost casually. “Not knowing where you are or what you’re doing. Fine. I won’t leave. I’ll help you if I can, but don’t ask me to lift a finger for Solo.”

“Fine.”

Things had taken a turn. Leia could feel it in her bones as Jabba’s minions raced for the deck of the sail barge. Fett clearly knew it too.

Artoo bumped against her leg with a quiet beep, and Leia took advantage of the Hutt’s distraction. She crouched down beside the small droid and held the length of chain between her hands. One zap and it broke.

But when she straightened, the bounty hunter was gone. 

She heard Jabba’s cry of outrage as she bolted for the deck, but she ignored it. All of his guards were busy fighting. She caught a quick glimpse of her friends on the skiff and then the bounty hunter at the rail. The engines on his jetpack were lit. 

Leia seized a pike that had fallen to the deck in the mad rush and swung it as hard as she could. Her aim was too good. Not only did she smash it into his jetpack but the force of the blow sent him over the railing. 

Into the sarlacc pit. 

She raced to the railing. He’d managed to slow his fall by grasping at the side of the barge, but without a good handhold in reach he was slipping down the side. She reached down with the pike and he grabbed it. A blaster shot ricocheted off the barge inches from his head. Artoo appeared on the deck and whistled sharply. Leia looked over at the droid. “What do you mean ‘it’s going to blow?’”

She jumped barely a second before the explosion. She collided with Fett on the way down and they hit the sand, rolling towards the mouth of the pit until suddenly they jerked to a stop. Fett had one arm wrapped around her and when she looked up she saw his other arm stretched over his head, bent at an angle that screamed ‘broken’ but anchored by his fibercord grappling hook to the skiff above them. 

“Leia!” She heard Han shout, but she was too busy trying to hold onto Fett and keep herself from sliding further into the pit. 

“Blaster,” Fett rasped. “Sarlacc…”

A tentacle slapped at her ankle and she pulled her leg up as high as she could. She managed to pull the bounty hunter’s blaster pistol from it’s holster and fired at the beast, causing the ground to shudder beneath them. 

Chewie appeared over the railing of the skiff and then suddenly the skiff lurched and began to move. Fett let out a muffled cry of pain as it dragged them to safety. 

“Can you see this?” Leia waved a hand in front of his face and Han squinted. 

“I can see the motion.”

“That’s a good sign. Try to get some sleep, okay?” She bent down to kiss his forehead before leaving the Millennium Falcon's crew quarters. Fett was sitting up on the cot, his back against the wall. His arm had been set and placed in a sling and at the insistence of everyone else, his other hand was cuffed to the cot. His helmet sat beside him, and his eyes were half-shut. Lando had given him a pretty big dose of painkillers. 

“How are you feeling?”

“I’ve felt worse.” His mouth curved into a bitter smile. “You fucked up.”

Leia folded her arms over her chest. “I still saved your life, Fett.”

He shook his head as if the motion took effort. “The sarlacc keeps its victims alive. You could have lived your whole life while I was being digested.”

“I don’t think I could have.” Leia sat down beside him on the cot. “I don’t want you to suffer. That’s not the magic tattoo, that’s who I am.” She brushed a dark curl off his forehead and laid her palm on his cheek. The sense of connection and wholeness she felt at Jabba’s was just as strong now. He leaned into the touch and Leia leaned over and gave him a quick kiss, which led to a longer kiss. And then an even longer one.

“What are we doing?” Fett demanded as soon as they broke apart. 

“Nothing. You’re drugged to the gills and Chewie would love to have an excuse to throw you out the airlock.” She sighed and leaned back against the wall beside him. “I don’t like being told what to do. Even by fate.”

“My dad used to say ‘fate is whatever you make of your life.’”

He’d spoken of his father before, and always in the past tense. “When did he die?”

“Years ago. When I was still a child.”

“What about your mother?”

“Never had one.”

“I’m sorry. I can tell by the way you talk about your dad that you were close.” Leia turned her head towards him. “I’m an orphan too, you know. Maybe if we’d met at a different time or in a different place…”

Fett nodded and gave her a quick, tired smile. “If fate is real, maybe it’ll bring us back together when we have an actual shot at it.”

She laughed softly. “I like that idea, actually. Put it to the test.”

He lifted his hand as far as the cuff would allow. “I’d shake on it, but…” 

“Nice try.” Leia sat up and gave him one last kiss. “For fate.”

Chapter Text

“Are you ready to begin?”

There was no response from Boba Fett. That wasn’t surprising. He hadn’t said a single word since boarding Home One. Lando was prepared to be patient. He’d brought a thermos of caf and a book. If the bounty hunter wanted to sit at the interview table all night, then Lando could wait him out. 

He did have one trick up his sleeve, however. 

“She’s pregnant.”

Fett closed his eyes briefly and then dropped his face into the palm of his hand. “Fierfek.” 

He didn’t look too bad for a man who had spent the better part of a year on a deserted island. “Mildly undernourished,” was the med droid’s appraisal. The armor he usually wore wasn’t much use to him in a tropical climate and his skin was bronzed from the sun. His black hair was long and curling, still damp from the shower.

“She said it was okay to tell you. She said some other stuff too. I promised I would pass it along...if you’re ready to talk?”

Fett ran his fingers back through his hair and straightened with a resigned sigh. He motioned to the recorder on the table, and Lando turned it on. “Okay, so this is the official statement of Boba Fett, as told to Lando Calrissian. It’s oh-seven hundred hours and fifty-two minutes standard time. This statement was recorded in detention block C of Home One. Go ahead.”

“Where do you want me to start?”

“Start with the island. Do you know where you were?”

“The Forbidden Islands. Donadda.”

“Right. It’s a series of islands in the easternmost part of the Gesar archipelago. The inhabitants of Donadda avoid them due to the belief that they are cursed. How did you end up there?”

“I stopped for fuel. She stowed away on my ship.”

“Who did?”

“Leia.” Fett sat back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest. “She put a blaster under my helmet and told me to land. Said as long as I unloaded Solo and left them both at Bayhold, she wouldn’t kill me.”

“But you never made it to Bayhold.”

“I didn’t agree to her terms. Solo was mine, and I had a contract to bring him to Jabba the Hutt. We fought. I lost control of the ship.”

“And you managed to land on the island.”

“The ship was damaged during the crash. I took off for the beach to see if I could hail a passing ship. When I left, she was unconscious.” Fett grimaced at the memory. “By the time I got back she had raided the weapons cache and she wasn’t about to let me get close. So I went back to the beach. That’s how it was for the first couple of weeks. She held the ship and I kept my distance.”

“Then what happened?”

“She ran out of food.”

“And you had food?”

“By then I had walked the island. It’s not that big. I had rigged up a couple of fishing traps and she tried to steal from one of them. I defended it. Told her if she wanted my food, she had to trade for it. So we started bartering. I brought her food and water, she gave me tools from the ship. No weapons, though. She was too smart for that.”

He said it with a grudging respect that Lando didn’t miss. “But you were living together when you were found.”

“There was a storm. It wiped out my camp at the beach and she said we might as well work together until we could escape.”

“Did you try to fix the ship?”

“Of course I tried.” Fett gave him a look that suggested he found the question ridiculous. “Firesprays aren’t like your Coreillian trash ships. They need power support.”

“That’s why it’s always handy to have a droid around.”

“I didn’t have a droid.”

“You had a block of carbonite with an internal power supply.” 

The bounty hunter looked even more annoyed. “And a princess who would have fucking killed me.”

“Han’s fine by the way. He’s got a wicked case of hibernation sickness, but they expect him to make a full recovery.” Lando paused, but he didn’t really expect a response. “He’ll have a lot to catch up on. Obviously you and Leia got...close.”

Fett looked away. 

“Look, I get it. It was convenient.”

“It was a game.” The words were spoken abruptly and almost harshly. 

“What was a game?”

The bounty hunter shifted in his seat. “I found a box of stuff I confiscated from prisoners. We started rolling chance cubes for sips of alcohol and when we ran out of alcohol we started rolling for other things.” 

“You had a really lucky night, I take it.”

“It was her roll.”

Lando sat up a little. “Tell me about the rescue.”

“The locals won’t go near the islands, but we thought we might be able to hail offworld ships bound for Bayhold. We collected whatever wood we could find and filled the center with grass and leaves so it would smoke. Took us days.”

“And that’s how you were able to signal The Resilient?”

“Eventually.”

“How many times did you try this?”

Fett’s eyes drifted to the ceiling as he silently counted. “Fourteen.”

“Wow.” Lando shook his head. “Leia didn’t mention that. She didn’t seem to know anything about the power supply in the carbonite either. You really never considered siphoning off the life support?”

“Isn’t Solo your friend?”

“He is, and I’m very grateful that he’s alive. I just don’t understand why you’re so reluctant to take credit for doing something noble and good for once. Unless...you did it for her."

The bounty hunter leaned back with a scowl. “Where’s my ship?”

“On the repair deck. It should be fixed by morning.” Lando collected his things as he spoke. “For the record, Leia also said that it was her roll. She said it was an incredibly stupid thing to do, but she doesn’t regret it. She plans to have the baby, but if you want to walk away from all of this, you can. She won’t hold it against you.” He stood and tilted his head. “But c’mon. We both know you’re not going anywhere.”

There was another long pause, but this time it was because there was nothing that needed to be said. Fett cleared his throat. “Can I see her?”

“Sure you can. By the way, this-” he held the recorder aloft “-is a transmitter. So you don’t need to have this whole awkward conversation again with Leia."

Chapter Text

“What are you doing?”

“Reading.” Boba Fett kept his eyes on the page, trying to ignore the way the hairs on the back of his neck stood up when she circled him. It was hard to ignore a living shadow, a spectre in black with a red blade in her hand. 

She was human, he supposed, or she was once. 

Now she was just the Lady. A name that was never spoken without a tinge of fear. She stalked back and forth across the room, swinging her lightsaber restlessly. “Why do you read so much?”

“Because you have more books in this one room than I’ve seen in my entire life.” He was stretched out on a settee, a very comfortable position until she arrived. “And it’s not like I have anything else to do while I’m your prisoner.”

“You chose your fate.”

“You were holding a lightsaber to my father’s throat. That’s not really a choice.”

“He should not have come here! It is forbidden!”

“No one tries to go to Mustafar.” He was still angry about it. Jango made an emergency landing to make repairs and had the unfortunate luck to land in Sith territory. He could have been beheaded for trespassing and he would still be a prisoner if Boba hadn’t tracked him here. The Lady agreed to release him, but only if Boba took his place. 

“Could you at least turn off the lightsaber while you’re in here?”

“Are you scared?”

“I’m worried about the books.” He jerked his head towards the floor, littered with scattered papers and wiring from holobooks. “What did they ever do to you?”

“They’re stupid,” she hissed. “Foolish scribblings.”

“Then don’t look at them.” He stubbornly fixed his attention on the pages in front of him, but the words might as well have been backwards and upside down. “I don’t understand why you would keep a fully stocked library and then destroy the books.” 

Or for that matter why she would keep a bounty hunter prisoner and then follow him around while he did nothing. 

For the first few weeks he was on edge, waiting for some trap to spring. When she insisted that he eat meals with her (“eat with me or not at all”), he expected at the very least to be poisoned or forced to eat live lava slugs. But the food wasn’t bad for droid-made fare. It wasn’t as good as his dad’s cooking but it wasn’t toxic. 

The hardest part was watching the Lady eat as if she was raised by a feral nexu. Her long, tangled hair frequently dragged through her food, but she didn’t seem to notice or care. She ignored her utensils and chugged wine straight from the bottle. The golden protocol droid who served their meals made a distressed noise from time to time but seemed to have given up trying to impart manners. 

Other than meals, Boba was given free reign of the castle and grounds. He had his own room and bed, and his captor made few demands. Maybe it should have been enough, but boredom made him bold. He let the book fall open on his chest and turned his head towards the pacing Sith. “Why did you agree to let me take my father’s place?”

She adjusted her route, drifting towards the arm of the settee where his boots were resting. Boba tensed a little, but her lightsaber blade extinguished and the hilt vanished into her dark robes. She climbed up on the arm, perched like a carrion bird ready to swoop down on its prey. “I wanted to know what would make someone stay here.” Slender fingers touched the toe of his left boot. “No one ever stays.”

What he felt wasn’t exactly pity, but it was something . “So why not leave?”

“Leave?” There was a weird tension in the air when she spoke, but everything about this dark castle was weird. “I can’t.”

“Who would stop you? The droids?”

“No. It’s not safe. Father said so. Here we are powerful. Here we are safe. When the time is right, I will take my place at his side.”

“And where is he now?”

“I don’t know. It’s been…” Her voice trailed off and her shoulders hunched. “He will return. When the time is right.”

“Hm.” Boba dropped his feet to the floor, making space on the settee. “Sit and I’ll read to you.”

Sharp eyes fixed on him, but she didn’t respond. 

He gestured at the cushions. “Sit on the part that’s made for sitting.”

She slid down with a sulky look but she was listening to him. That meant he had something she wanted. It was a start, anyway. Boba picked up the book again and cleared his throat. 

“I can read ,” she said abruptly. “I have been educated according to my status. The words don’t always make sense to me. The places. The things.”

She was curled up in the corner of the settee, her knees under his chin. Boba had never been this close to her before. She was human. Probably in her mid-twenties. Black paint circled her eyes and streaked down her cheeks. 

Boba had done the same thing once with a child’s paint set when he was four or five. He had painted a vizor on his face to look like his father’s helmet. 

He wondered who the Lady was trying to mimic. 

“I’ll explain them to you,” he said. “The words and the things. ‘In the courtyard there was a blanket of snow-’”

“Have you seen a blanket of snow before?”

“Yes. Snow is cold and white. It covers the ground like a blanket. It’s not a real blanket.”

“I know that,” she snarled unconvincingly. 

“‘She scattered bread crumbs for the birds who-’”

“I’ve seen you do that.”

“Do what?”

“Feed the lizard-crows. With the bread you steal at dinner. Why do you do that?”

He heaved a sigh. “Because I’m a prisoner and I don’t know when you might decide to stop feeding me.”

“No. I mean, why feed them?”

“I like doing it.” It was hard to keep the annoyance out of his tone. “Why did you watch me?”

“They like you.” She turned her head away. “I tried to feed them once. They flew away every time I got close.”

“Do you want me to teach you?”

That got him a quick, suspicious look. “What can a bounty hunter teach a Sith?”

“A little subtlety, maybe. It’s always easier if you can make your target come to you.” He stood, placing the book safely on a shelf. “Come on. Do you really want to keep following me around and watching me, or do you want to do some things together?” He held out his hand, pushing into the back of his mind the thought of her red saber. 

She took his hand instead and allowed herself to be pulled up from the settee and then guided out to the terrace. 

Boba had mostly stopped hoarding bread for himself. He kept a few dry crusts in his pocket for the lizard-crows and he took one out now and crushed it in his fist. “You have to stand very still,” he told the Lady, turning her hand palm up. He filled the center with crumbs and scattered the rest on the obsidian tiles.

It was a dinner bell. The crows fluttered in on black wings and surrounded them, their long tongues snapping out in the blink of an eye to collect a crumb. The Lady took a step towards one, her hand outstretched, and the crow fluttered back with a hiss. 

“No.” Boba put himself behind her, with his hand under hers. “Let them come to you.”

“They won’t!”

“Yes they will. You have food.” There was a smaller crow watching them, it’s tongue teasing the air. “Just be still. Breathe.”

She shivered a little bit. They were standing so close he could feel it. He focused on his own breathing, on keeping his hand steady beneath hers. She relaxed a little.

The small crow fluttered closer.

“Shhhh.” Boba cautioned her when she tensed. “Wait.”

It landed on Boba’s thumb, judging it to be the best perch. The tongue darted out, licking the crumbs from the Lady’s palm and she stifled what sounded like a giggle. The crow fluttered a bit but went in for more, and the once sound the Lady made this time was a soft gasp, barely above a whisper. 

She turned her head to look up at Boba, and the movement chased off the crow but he hardly noticed. Her lips were parted and she was smiling at him. “You were right,” she said, without pride or defense. “It works.”

“I think you’ve got it.” Boba dropped his hand and took a step back. His pulse was quick and he was in danger of forgetting who this woman was. She was pretty and warm and she wanted a vermin bird to like her. 

And she was a prisoner here too, even if she couldn’t see it. Maybe that was the key to his escape. 

Chapter Text

“What is all this?” The question came out more shrill than Leia intended, but maybe it was the edge of panic in her voice that caught Cody’s attention and made him turn from his conversation with Rex. 

“Look who finally decided to leave their room,” Rex spoke before Cody could. “Boba, we thought you were going to miss your own engagement dinner.”

“Not for lack of trying,” Boba muttered under his breath, but without letting go of Leia’s hand. “And this looks like much more than a dinner.”

Normally the center yard of the Fett compound was empty apart from a few training dummies and weapon stands. Currently there was hardly a square meter of ground showing, the space consumed completely by tents draped in clan colors, tables and benches and Mandalorians carting baskets of food and trays of ale from one tent to another. The air smelled like uj’ayl and there was bes’bev music in the air. 

“It was supposed to be dinner. A quiet dinner.” Leia had to stop and take a calming breath. “My parents will be here any minute.”

“I know,” Cody responded wryly. “Jango read somewhere that on Alderaan betrothal parties last for days and have been known to shut down entire cities. He won’t be outdone.”

“That’s not the ideal ,” Leia protested. “Those were a few isolated and extreme cases. Some people actually went to jail.”

“Oh?” Cody shrugged and looked at Rex. “Well, too late now.”

“Given the amount of alcohol available, I’d say jail is a likely outcome of today.” Rex added. “I’d better double the guard.”

“Check on Echo while you’re at it and make sure the fighting ring is set up for the matches.”

“Matches?” Leia repeated. 

“That won’t be until after dinner,” Rex reassured her. “Don’t worry.”

“This isn’t what we discussed!” Leia shouted at his back, but he didn’t stop. Boba squeezed her hand. 

“Last chance to go back to bed.”

“No, they’re here,” she replied, her eyes on the shuttle as it descended to the ground. “And I’ve been telling them all week that it’s really not a big deal, marrying the Mandalore’s son.”

“At least your sister hasn’t been calling you ‘the royal consort’ all week.”

“In all fairness to Omega, it’s a silly title.” Leia turned, bringing his hand to her waist and letting his arm curl around her as she pressed into his side. “We can survive this, right?”

“Probably.”

Jango was already waiting at the shuttle ramp, his silver armor gleaming and his helmet tucked under his arm. Bail and Breha Organa exited arm in arm, although Leia was quick to notice the ornate box her father held. They hadn’t discussed gifts. 

They had discussed the fact that Jango Fett was once contracted by Count Dooku to kill Leia’s birth mother, Padme Amidala. Instead he’d passed the job off to an assassin and escaped to the outer rim with Boba. Not long after the Jedi purge, Jango returned to Mandalore with some of his clones to fight off Imperial occupation. 

It was not a fight without cost. The very first target of the Death Star’s superweapon was the moon of Concordia. It was supposed to put the Mandalorians in their place. Instead, it unified them into the Empire’s worst nightmare. Without them, Leia reminded her father, the war could have lasted much longer. 

“There’s my handsome almost-son-in-law,” Breha said as Boba removed his helmet. She kissed both of his cheeks, which he endured with a stoic expression. He would never admit it, but Leia thought he enjoyed the way she fussed over him.

Bail presented the box to Jango. “I brought three-layer trifle cakes. An Alderaani tradition.”

Jango took it, his brow furrowed as he lifted the lid. Leia caught Breha’s sleeve, speaking through a plastered-on smile. “You let him bring food?”

“I tried to stop him,” she replied, also through a smile. 

“There’s enough here to feed an army,” Leia told her father as she tucked his arm through his. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, it’s almost as if we’re preparing to go to war again,” Boba said to his father pointedly, but Jango ignored him, his mouth full of three-layer trifle cake. 

“Damn, that’s delicious.” He said as soon as he could. “Is that cinnamon?”

“And just a dash of cloves,” Bail responded with a smile. “It’s a family recipe.”

“I want you to tell me exactly how you made it.” Jango gestured towards the largest tent. “Come inside. We’ll have a nice quiet dinner…and then watch some bloodsports.”

“Dad,” Boba said sharply. 

“I’m joking. This is about our families getting acquainted.” Jango put his arm around Leia. “You told her she has to fight a gundark before she can marry you, right?”

“Don’t think she won’t,” Bail offered dryly and Jango laughed and nodded. 

“You raised one hell of a fighter, Organa.”

“I could say the same to you, Fett.”

“See?” Breha murmured to Leia as the two men ducked into the tent. “It’s going to be fine.” She followed them, but Leia hesitated. She looked over at Boba in realization. 

“It’s worse when they get along.”

“So much worse.”