Chapter Text
A shattered glass rarely ruined an event as cheerful as a party or a ball.
Unless we were talking of Han, who just happened to ruin almost every jamboree he was invited to if Leia happened to be there as well.
Leia should have expected this to be no exception.
Her breath got stuck somewhere between her throat and the edge of her chest as the whole room was still drowned in silence. Her brown eyes gazed in horror as the bubbly pink champagne soaked her father’s favorite Turkish carpet to the core, words and terms far too vulgar for a proper lady like herself running through her mind like galloping wild horses through the forest. A knotted lump stole her voice as she fixated on the sparkling crystal shards laying unevenly on the floor and the lower, partly unbroken half of the champagne glass resting judgingly with its leg pointing towards her.
With a stiff neck and face draped in horror, she raised her head as her gaze met the eyes of the shameless culprit. A gorgeous pair of olive eyes lanced her own chocolates with a mute but present open-wound blooming into their debts.
The tomb-like quieten soon became penetrated by the most silent of whispers and mutters, echoes and pictures of the conversation she just had mere moments ago rolling in her mind over and over like a broken musical box.
“Any blessed news about our dearest Leia? Is there somebody that you would, perhaps, like to present to us?”
The brunette’s eyes scanned the room alarmed in hopes of escaping Han’s punishing gaze. As soon as she found the strength to break the chain of their eye contact, she was met with Anakin’s curious, but just as measured and almost hurt look engraved on his face. His blue eyes, two shining jewels which she hadn't had the privilege to steal from him and her twin brother gleamed with a scrutinizing little amber in their sky-like depths.
Her aunt’s words managed to send a wave of unpleasant chills down the young woman’s spine, and the next second she felt the color in her lovely cheeks draining like bathwater, leaving her skin almost sickly pale. She gently raised the champagne glass to her lips, taking the smallest of sips so as to bring life back to her face before anyone would get the chance to notice the sudden change in her look. Not so far across the room, gathered just near the old piano with some other gentlemen Leia failed to recall the names to. Han’s gaze locked onto her own just a moment later, his jaw clenching tense as his grip onto his own alcohol glass tightened considerably.
If it wasn’t for her blessed mother’s intervention, Leia might have actually fainted out of shock before even finishing half of her sentence.
“I am afraid not, dear Sola. Nobody has managed to break my darling Leia’s stone heart so far.’’
“Forgive my insolence, Count Naberrie.’’ the young man hissed in the most professional manner he would pull, though the young woman was sure that her father had noticed his left fist clenching like a madman under the bare coverage of his right palm.
“There is no need to apologize, Sir Solo. It’s just a glass. Serve yourself with another cup, I insist.’’ Anakin replied in a terrifying jovial manner that almost made Leia’s heart sink to the bottom of her chest out of shame. She wasn’t entirely sure whether her father had any remote idea about the actual meaning behind the ‘accidentally’ broken glass, but he definitely knew that something – or someone – in this room had stirred up Han’s nerves to the point where he snapped brazenly.
“Ah, but there must be at least somebody she fancies! Come now, Leia. Is there really no exceptional gal that has managed to light a spark in that cold little soul of yours?”
“No, Count. Thanks for your hospitality. I believe it would be better for me if I were to leave. Now.’’
Anakin shook his head approvingly, his expression somewhat more relaxed than earlier. Even his ever-dark scar branded across the right side of his face and cutting in half as it met his eye seemed to have loosen up, just for a bit.
“As you wish. But it isn’t me who you should be thankful to. It is my wife’s birthday, after all.’’
A wicked grin sketched on Han’s face. Leia never wished to punch somebody ever in her life until that very moment.
Maybe she would have actually punched him if there wouldn’t have been so many people around.
Han’s painful gaze left a sour sting piercing through Leia’s heart. And yet, with an envying confidence and a heart hardened in steel, the shameless lie rolled gently off her lips:
“No, Aunt Sola. There is nobody.’’
“Right. It is your lovely daughter who insisted on inviting me.’’
Then disaster was unveiled and bedlam unfolded.
Count Naberrie did not reply. He merely stared at the young lad in front of him who happened to have the guts to smirk like an arrogant idiot after signing his death sentence with his very mouth.
“Happy birthday, Countess Naberrie.’’ Han greeted Leia’s mother goodbye, then had the nerve to come dangerously close, take the brunette’s little hand into her own and place the gentlest of kisses on the bridge of her palm. “Have a wonderful evening, sweetheart.’’
Oh, how badly she wanted to punch that impudent confidence out of him!
Leia let her right hand fall motionlessly by her side, watching with smoke foaming at nostrils as the man waltzed out of the room disgracefully, biting the tip of her tongue as an attempt to hold back all the poison she wanted to spit out.
She did not waste any more time to scan the room for her cousins’ befuddled expressions, Padmé’s shocked face or to deal with the disappointment engraved on her father’s bust. Instead, she picked up her skirts crossly and bugged out of the room in three jumps and a spin, avoiding a butler’s tray filled to the brim with brand new glasses of champagne.
“Han!” her unmannered scream rang through the halls of Naberrie Hall as she struggled to catch up with him. For about ten minutes or so, she twisted and turned around the corridors, at last bumping into the wanted man who seemed to be heading towards the vestibule.
“Sorry, sweetheart. This soiree doesn’t really seem to take a liking to me. And neither do you, as far as I am concerned.” Han tried to wave her off, yet to his despair, Leia was not going to give up until she would make herself heard. Or until she’ll have enough and jab him right in the nose.
“Oh, you– you stuck up, half-witted, scruffy looking. . . gobble-cock!”
Upon hearing her insult, Han turned at last with a hurt, very much affronted look shadowing his face.
“Who’s scruffy looking? Mind you, it’s a new jacket!” the man puffed unimpressed, arranging the black collar of his coat. Leia tsked frustrated, biting the tip of her tongue so as to hold back a nasty curse. No amount of rage or irritation would have excused all that laid on the bed of her mouth if she allowed herself to spit all that venom out.
“Oh, how cute. Insulting your new jacket suddenly makes you feel self-conscious. But putting up a whole circus show in front of my family makes you feel damn proud, doesn’t it?” the brunette bit back, scoffing as she continued to follow him all the way to the foyer like a sad little puppy going after its master after chewing his slippers.
“Your father never liked me that much anyway.’’
“God damn it, Han, not everything is about what my father thinks of you!”
“Then why are you following me? Afraid I was gonna leave without giving you a goodbye kiss?”
“You just made an entire scene in front of a ballroom filled with half of my family! You’ll give yourself a good punch for me, pull yourself up by the bootstraps and return at once with me and clean the whole mess you’ve just made! And I am not referring to that damn glass!”
“And why should I do that?” he inquired, frowning in an ironic, almost mocking way that managed to make Leia’s blood boil hot like a cauldron of soup on the stove. She felt her cheeks growing fiery as her teeth gritted inside of her mouth.
“Because you made a fool of yourself! Who is gonna take you seriously anymore after what a scene you pulled! Seriously, what was on your mind? Probably nothing, as usual!”
Han scoffed unimpressed, still too preoccupied to search for his coat in the overflowing vestibule.
“As if they ever actually took me seriously. Come on, sweetheart, cut off all of that bull for your own sake. I couldn’t care less for my reputation and you know that. Just say it out loud that I embarrassed you in front of your cousins.’’
“This is not about me, Han!’’
“Is it not?” the man dropped yet another question, at last fishing out his dark brown coat and his hat, flouncing off the vestibule without even glancing at Leia once.
“Of course not! It’s about you and how you just have to stand out through one way or another.’’
“Well, maybe I wouldn’t have felt the need to do so if somebody wouldn’t be more scared than a mouse to admit that she has, in fact, feelings for someone else!”
Leia let out a shocked whimper, her mouth hanging open in ire.
“I’d just as soon kiss a horse!’’
“I can arrange that! Anything else your Ladyship would like to add?’’ the man raised one of his rich eyebrows curiously, a dangerous spark of choler dancing in a fever-drunk tango with a torrid flame of bitterness. Leia bit her lower lip, her upper teeth digging into the soft flesh of her rosy mouth as her tongue tangled in failing to shape a proper, coherent thought. Han let out a bitter chuckle as he shook his head hopelessly, running a hand through his mess of hair. “Well, would you look at that? You know, I hoped that, when all of this would eventually come to an end, it would all happen in much more. . . pleasant circumstances.’’
“What do you mean by that?” Leia’s voice was barely louder than a whimper, her brows furrowed together just slightly in a confused expression. Worry suddenly cascaded down her face and washed off all the furor and ramp from merely a moment ago.
Han’s face softened as he let out a painful sigh, bringing up the courage to approach and cup her soft cheeks in his gloved hands, placing the most delicate and sorrowful of kisses on her forehead.
“This won’t work, sweetheart. I ain’t good enough for you.’’
Leia’s eyes widened to the size of her mother’s tea chinaware upon hearing the man’s statement, shock and dismay shadowing her face as disbelief shook her whole body. Desperate, she dug her fingers into his shoulders like a madwoman, shaking him just a little as if to shudder sense back into his being.
“Are you out of your mind?! How much did you drink? Oh, dear, it’s the alcohol speaking, isn’t it? We have to return and mend everything back before it’s too late.’’
“Leia.’’ the man hissed, a shade of weariness coloring his tone.
“Listen to me, we are going back in there. You are going right now to my father and you shall apologize–’’
“Leia. . .’’ he begged her once again to listen.
“And then we can go back to normal–’’
“This is not normal!” Han exploded, at last fed up with Leia’s fanciful, unrealistic fantasies of fixing something unrepairable. The woman jumped, taken by surprise by his sudden burst, her hands slipping down his shoulders and her arms falling limp and motionless. “This– this affair of ours. This can’t go on forever, Leia. It’s hurting me. You are hurting me. Having to pretend that I don’t feel the slightest flame of passion for you. Having to watch you dance and smile and charm other men for the sake of keeping alive a false facade of yourself. I am tired of being afraid, Leia. I want to have you. And I want everybody to know that I belong to you.’’
If hearts could truly break, Leia’s would’ve crushed into a thousand mosaic shards under the weight of Han’s words in that very moment.
She had feared this dreadful day for what felt like ages now. From the moment they had first laid eyes upon each other, two cursed years ago, during a ball just like this one, something inside of her changed in a way that she couldn’t quite find the proper words to describe. Sharing not one but two dances that very same evening, during which they chatted so much and so vividly their mouths hung dry and chapped from thirst after each time. The stars aligned so that they bumped yet again into each other at a tea party only a week or so later. Her brother, Luke, had taken a liking to him and for the next month he kept inviting him over, though later he had confessed that he only did so in hopes that Leia might grow fond of his presence as well. Which, in a way or another, had worked, and soon enough she found herself desiring his company more and more often.
It wasn’t until Christmastime last year, when her brother invited over a bunch of friends – including Sir Solo – to celebrate alongside, that the two finally gave in and confessed their feelings for each other in the snow-covered pavilion outside, shielded from the curious looks and snarky looks of the other guests. Sheltered by the darkness, they slow-danced together to the mute tune of the violins coming from inside of the manor, humming softly to the rhythm in sync as their frozen noses brushed against each other. Their bodies pressed way closer than accepted for a fine lady and a respectable man – but maybe they could pretend, only if for a night, that such titles did not define them. Hot breaths and cold fingers intertwined as they shared their first, most tender and yet timid of kisses they each had.
What followed had been a year of stolen glances and secret meetings in the most forgotten of corners, faint hand kisses and hands held behind the back. A year of lies, masquerading in silver masks and holding back all the desire and love they held one another for the sake of themselves.
Han hadn’t had the luck of being born in a privileged family like her – or any family at all. Every well-respected lady with a bejeweled name for herself and every gentleman proudly keeping his head up was fairly aware of the story of Baronet Solo and the bastard child of six frail years old he had picked up from the streets and brought home, fed, educated, dressed him up in fine clothes and introduced him into high society. Many had been judgeful and not quite pleased with the man’s decision of adopting a street rat and calling him ‘his son’, not to mention the audacity to show him in the public eye as if he were his most valuable treasure. But the Baronet was a respected man, even though not half as wealthy as the Nabberies. A strange, cold, but respected, well-mannered folk.
Unlike his darling son.
Sir Solo, as he got nicknamed by other fellows, was just as peculiar and cold-blooded as his father, maybe slightly more outgoing and social when it came to gatherings and fulfilling family duties. But he lacked the fine mannerisms and politeness characteristics of the Baronet. Unlike his father, Han stood out and affirmed himself by talking boisterous antics, by speaking ill of others in their presence with little to no remorse and for his wild nature. He was a famous enjoyer of outdoors activities, but despised hunting and was not fond of dogs like other gentlemen his age. He often drank excessively at parties and he was never up to date with the latest fashion. He cursed, he often cheated at cards, and that’s why nobody liked to play with him – and he was rumored to have had a few affairs with some of the most notorious lads of the gentry.
And yet, despite knowing only the worst of the man before her, Leia couldn’t help but fell utterly, undoubtedly, in love with him.
But that did not mean that she wasn’t afraid for them – afraid for her.
Dissimilar to Han, Leia held upon her frail shoulders the weight of her parents’ reputation and honor. Two gravestones that she did not ask for, but were given to her to bear on her own from the moment she was born. She was the youngest of all her cousins, and everybody’s favorite subject at each family gathering. Leia knew, even though she rarely heard these conversations out loud, that she was expected to carry out her mother’s legacy in an honorable way, marry a wealthy and powerful man and to carry the name of Naberrie forward with grace and maturity. She was painfully aware of how the majority of her relatives viewed her: naive, hot-headed, too young to know what’s best for herself and too stubborn for her own good.
Too much likely to fall for the wrong man.
“I am being delusional, aren’t I?’’ the man chortled sadly with an ironic beam engraved on his lips, shutting his eyes closed as if to prevent himself from bursting into tears. “Silly me, to think that this– this would actually last. Shame on me for thinking mightier of myself. For thinking I had a chance.”
“Han–’’ the woman managed to mouth his name at last, but her companion cut her off instantly, gently raising a gloved hand up to silence her.
“Have a pleasing evening, Your Ladyship. I won’t waste your precious time any longer. And I won’t torture you with my unworthy pressence anymore.’’ he reassured her in the most courteous, polite and cold tone Leia ever heard from him.
Her lips were still hanging slightly open and her gaze fixed into the emptiness of the open doorway as she watched petrified how Sir Solo stormed across the hall, shaking the floor under his ungracious steps. Another wave of anger took hold of her for a moment as she felt the frustrations of every single word she did not have the guts to say, her cheeks burning in a shade of pale poppy red which only grew brighter and hotter with every second she kept those thoughts inside of her much longer. Through the foggy lenses of her vision, she watched as the Baronet’s son rushed down the old staircase and as his carriage stopped right at the bottom, waiting to take its master and vanish into the night.
“I could use you being less stubborn!” she shouted in a sole breath, her voice trembling and eyes on the verge of drowning in her own tears, a tight knot forming at the base of her throat.
Han stopped, one foot already inside the carriage, gloved hand gripping onto the door handle as if his life depended on it. Still,he did not turn around. Another sorrowful chuckle escaped his lips, and all the little droplets of hope left in Leia’s heart died as he shook his head in disapproval.
“You could use a good kiss!”
And with that, he closed the carriage door behind him.