Work Text:
Princess Breha Organa didn't need to make an appointment for an audience with her mother, the queen. Ordinarily, she could just walk in and interrupt her mother in her private office or anywhere, really, but because this particular meeting had to do with the crown, Breha made an appointment, a formal request for an audience with the queen, in the throne room, as tradition and protocol dictated.
Because of her request, Breha knew her mother anticipated what their meeting was about, and that did little to stifle Breha's anxiety about asking for the queen's blessing to seek a courtship with Bail Antilles.
She hesitated outside of the throne room, took a moment for herself to ensure that her hair was tucked neatly into its braids and her gown had no wrinkles. She had rehearsed her speech several times and still knew that the moment she started talking in front of her mother, she was going to stumble over the words. It was only ever her mother that managed to make her this nervous. Or, maybe, it was the crown.
Breha took a deep breath, set a hand on the door, pushed it open, and entered.
"Breha," her mother greeted, her tone warm as she stood up from the imposing throne. "You don't need to make an appointment to see me." She knew her mother was testing the situation, and as soon as Breha said why she was there, her mother would morph into the queen.
"I've come before you today, your majesty, as princess of Alderaan and heir to the throne, to ask for your blessing over a courtship that I wish to enter into."
Her mother straightened and her eyes brightened, her lips parting in delight for the briefest of moments before the queen fell into place. "And who has the princess chosen as her intended consort?"
Breha knew her mother was well aware of the rumors about her and Bail -- Senator Antilles.
A gossip columnist snapped a holo of his hand a little too high on her thigh just the other day out at dinner on Coruscant. One of her friends was overheard saying that the princess and the senator had plans to holiday in the mountains alone together. They were seen dancing too closely together at a recent charity gala.
But it wasn't a line of conversation Breha had yet had with her mother. She knew her mother wouldn't be surprised; she only hoped she wouldn't be disappointed.
"Senator Bail Antilles," she said boldly.
Her mother's expression didn't change.
Breha hesitated, considered an immediate defense of her choice. But she held her tongue.
"He is not an option I would have suggested for you," the queen began. Breha felt her pulmonodes pound as if taking up her entire chest as her mother continued on. "However, I can see the appeal, both for you physically and for Alderaan politically." Her mother held up a hand. "I have some concerns, but now is not yet the time to voice them. There will be a courtship interview for that." She nodded. "Therefore, I will allow it." Breha's stomach leapt. "However, there are some conditions."
"Of course," Breha murmured. Every courtship had its conditions, guidelines. How long, where they could go, who they could be seen by, how often they were allowed to be alone together. She hoped they wouldn't be too limited.
"The courtship will extend for forty days, during which at least half the time will need to be here on Alderaan. Additionally, you will have a chaperone with you at any time there is a chance the two of you will be alone. At the end of the forty days, I will conduct the courtship interview. At that time, I will consider whether Senator Antilles will make an acceptable consort to you and future viceroy to Alderaan."
Breha's mind raced. She had too many questions about the conditions to know where to begin. Instead, she simply nodded, agreeing to them.
"I will have the courtship agreement drawn up and you will be permitted to speak to the Senator Antilles about it yourself. I'm sure you don't need an intermediary for that."
Breha shook her head. "Thank you, your majesty," she said, inclining her head and dropping into a quick, stiff curtsy. It was never comfortably curtsying to one's mother.
"Is that all?" the queen asked. After Breha confirmed that it was, the queen nodded to signal the end to the conversation.
When Breha turned to leave, quickly, her breathing stuck, her cheeks flushed from the excitement of the question, obtaining permission, and the formality of it all, her mother, not the queen, stopped her. She looked back at her, smiling.
"Breha," her mother said, reaching out to give her a brief, familiar hug. "I know there are conditions in place her," she said, "but that doesn't mean you can't enjoy yourselves." She pressed a kiss to Breha's forehead and squeezed her hand. "I'm excited for you, that you're taking this step."
"I know, mama," Breha said, her cheeks redder now. "I am too."
-----
The idea of a courtship, something that for a princess of Alderaan nearly always led straight to marriage, wasn't something Breha had explicitly discussed with Bail. As she rode the lift up to his apartment in Coruscant's trendy Temir district, she regretted that. The permission granted from her mother wasn't something she could postpone or even request again. If he didn't agree, that was it.
She pressed a hand to her chest, where her pulmonodes had turned amber, reflecting the sudden onset of worry about this entire situation. Her chest tightened as she tried to calm her breathing. It was both a blessing and a curse that Bail would be able to know just from looking at her that she was nervous.
When she reached the end of the long hallway, she stopped outside of his apartment door. Her hands, not confined to gloves and still clammy, damp, gripped the folds in her skirt. Breha took a deep breath and pressed the chimes next to the door, hoping that he was at home. (There wasn't any reason he wouldn't be at home, but she wasn't his keeper, of course.)
A moment later, the door whooshed open and Bail stood in front of her, dressed for a party. Or, at least, not dressed as informally as she had assumed given the day and hour. Tight trousers, a loose, open-collared shirt - he looked very handsome. Her gaze drifted past him to find that he had a half-dozen people over, gathered around on sofas and seats, drinks in hand.
"Oh, I apologize, Senator," she said quickly, cognizant enough of his company not to slip into the familiar, even as she'd come to be used to it. "I didn't realize you had company. I can come back."
He smiled, not missing a beat. "Absolutely not, princess," he said, motioning for her to come in. The way he said her title always made her shiver. "Why don't you join us?"
This was not what Breha had in mind when she decided - impulsively, it was true, and without making an appointment (she hadn't wanted to make an appointment to, essentially, propose to Bail) - to come over. "I was hoping we could talk," she continued on even as he helped her out of her cloak and hung it up near the door for her.
"I'm sure if you stay long enough, we'll have the opportunity," he said. His hand settled lightly against her lower back, a gesture Breha had come to expect when they were together. She could practically feel his fingertips burning her skin, even through the thin fabric of her dress. "Let me introduce you to everyone."
Breha prided herself on her composure in situations like this, but her nerves were still on edge because of the purpose of her visit. And the fact that she was meeting some of Bail's friends wasn't helping matters. She'd met a few over the last few months, but not in a gathering like this.
The first two men Bail introduced her to were almost as good looking as Bail was - almost. The first was tall and slender, with dark hair tied back at the nape of his neck, olive skin, and a serious face. He reached for her hand with both of his, taking hers gently and meeting her eyes as he was introduced. "Rainer Bens," Bail said. "We've known one another since university."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, your highness," Rainer said. He gave Bail an unreadable look, which resulted in a flush passing across Bail's face. "Antilles doesn't shut up about you."
Bail cleared his throat and gestured. "His partner Marcus Reenan. You may have met him before."
"I'm Coruscanti, princess, I hope you'll forgive me." The man, stockier and fairer, with chestnut hair and a boyish face, swept in and kissed the back of her hand, open-mouthed.
Breha couldn't help but laugh, flustered. "It's nice to meet you both of you," she told them, letting Marcus with his charming grin keep her hand in his for a moment longer. "And I forgive you for not being Alderaanian. Mostly." She smiled warmly and then glanced at Bail, who quickly removed her from Marcus and Rainer, introducing her to a half dozen other of his friends, all of whom, besides Rainer, were not Alderaanian.
Bail re-introduced her to Hana, the daughter of Alderaan's other senator, whom Breha knew now had a long-term relationship with Bail a few years before. Some of her friends, a group of diverse young women who didn't seem all too impressed with meeting a princess.
None of the beings at Bail's were Senate colleagues, she realized. Most of the time she'd spent with him over the last few months had included political friends. They weren't even all from his university days either, and she began to understanding that his social life and social circle were very separate, not only from his work, but also from Alderaan itself. If she hadn't already made up her mind about him and this courtship, she might second guess herself.
Despite the fact that she didn't know anyone and hadn't been invited, Bail made her feel welcome, keeping her at his side for the rest of the evening, his fingertips finding her elbow, the small of her back, her hip, once even the side of her neck. She felt like one half of a couple in many ways.
It was late when everyone began leaving, not en masse but close to it, and once the final guest was out the door, Breha breathed out, relaxing.
"If I'd known you were on Coruscant," Bail said as he gestured for her to follow him into the kitchen, "I would have invited you."
She shook her head. "Don't even think on that again," she told him. "It was a last minute trip. I hope you don't mind that I arrived uninvited."
He smiled and pulled two glasses from a cabinet, asking if she wanted some water. She nodded. "Not at all. I was glad you were here."
Breha waited until his back was to her, as he poured them each a glass of water, before she asked, "How many of the people here tonight have you slept with?"
Water spilled along the counter as he turned sharply to look at her, eyebrows raised. "Uh, what?"
She smiled slyly and lifted one shoulder. "I don't think it's that odd of a question to ask. You're well aware of your reputation. As am I."
He cleared his throat and reaches past her for a towel to sop up the spillage. "Three," he said a moment later. "But I'm not saying which three, so don't ask." Even though there was a teasing edge to his tone, Breha could tell he wasn't kidding, so she didn't ask. She supposed it didn't really matter, was more her own curiosity than anything else.
"Very well," she said.
Bail turned and handed her a glass of cold water. "You said you had something you wanted to talk to me about?" he asked.
It was late, halfway past night and closer to the morning, but Coruscant's moons were still bright, shining in through the bank of windows in Bail's apartment. Moonlight wasn't something Breha was used to, seeing as Alderaan had no moon, and she noticed the way it made him look, handsome in half light, half shadow, eyes heavy with tiredness.
Breha sipped her water and cleared her throat, glancing away from him for a moment.
"I assume it wasn't my sexual partners history," he half-joked when she didn't answer right away.
She smiled, just a little, and set the glass down. "No, it wasn't that. Truthfully, I'm not concerned with your past partners. I'm more concerned with your future ones." A beat. "One, really."
He arched an eyebrow but said nothing.
Breha, who had no experience proposing courtship to someone, mustered up all of her political experience and confidence before she spoke again. "Senator Antilles," she began, "If you're amenable to it, I would like us to enter into a formal courtship. The queen has approved, and the agreement has been drawn up, conditions served."
Bail matched her serious expression, even though she wished he would lighten the mood. They both knew this was supposed to be a formal request, but it felt stilted, impersonal.
She took a deep breath and allowed her expression to change, just a little, more hopeful, less formal. "Bail - I hope that it's something you're interested in," If her voice dropped a little, turned hoarse in what she hoped didn't come across as desperate (maybe it could be viewed as sultry?), she tried not to think about it.
He set his glass aside as well and reached for her hand, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. "Your highness," he said. "I would be honored."
She pressed her lips together for a moment, tilted her head to the side. "And do you want me as well, senator, outside of your honor, and your duty to your queen and to Alderaan?"
Bail's eyes darkened and he stepped closer. "Yes."
Breha couldn't help it; she shivered. He slid a hand over her hip and one up along her jaw. "Permission to kiss you, your highness? To show you just how much I want you, Breha?"
Her name on his lips made her stomach flutter. She believed him. Oh, how she believed him in this moment. Even if there was still a very big part of him that was doing this out of duty, she believed that he did want her too. It was the curse of the crown. She remembered her mother telling her that when she was very little, explaining that there will never be a time when she would be one hundred percent certain that someone in her life wanted to be there because of who she was or what she was.
"Please," she managed to say, the word almost unintelligible, swallowed by his mouth as it descended on hers. She gasped and welcomed the kiss, welcomed him into her arms and, hopefully, into the rest of her life.