haveyourmoments | (no subject)

(no subject)

Every day I wake up in my palatial bed with a renewed sense of regret, wishing that there had been any other way to save Alderaan other than agreeing to marry Isolder, my now husband, the Prince of Hapan. There’s nothing wrong with him, exactly, he’s polite and proper and beautiful, of course, with his long blonde hair and blue-gray eyes. He’s kind, and patient with me and never fails to forgive my temper, but somehow that oboe makes it worse, makes me feel like an unruly child instead of his wife, his equal.

He tells me that he’s selected a new pilot for my flagship, that this stranger will be my bodyguard as well due to the ongoing threats in my life and I do my best not to sulk, knowing I’m capable of taking care of myself, but instead nodding and accepting his unassuming kiss on my cheek.

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“I’ll ask Chewie,” I say, concerned that he needs more medical care than I can provide. I’m terrified of the idea of having to land.

“Mmkay,” I say, and with the break in the shooting pain I start to doze.

Eventually I return with the kit, thankful that he has both medication for an infection and for his pain. I gently stroke his hair, looking at him, waiting for him to open his eyes. “I’ve gotta give you a shot, baby.”

“No,” I groan, blinking blearily. “I hate shots.”

“Please, Han,” I saw, getting upset but trying to hide it. “I need to take care of you.”

“Okay,” I say eventually, because I trust her. I close my eyes as she steadies herself for the shot.

I try not to let my own hand shake as I administer the shots, swiftly shifting to apply a bacta patch to cover his wound. I feel sick at the thought that I hadn’t noticed how hurt he was, that I didn’t give him enough time to take care of himself.

“Nice work, doctor,” I say, in no way about to call her my nurse.

“Hardly,” I say with a pained laugh, hovering over him nervously. “How are you feeling now?”

“Mmm, funny,” I say, looking up at the ceiling. “But good funny.”

“Good funny, hmm?” I say with a soft smile, stroking his hair. “Maybe with enough medicine you’ll learn how to tell a joke.”

“A Jawa walks into a cantina…” I start, but then the pull is too great to close my eyes, although not yet sleep.

“My point exactly, baby,” I murmur, stroking his hair off of his sweaty forehead.

“Mmm,” I say, leaning into her touch and relishing it.

“I was going to offer to make out with you as an apology for the shot , but apparently you’re too tired…” I tease.

“We can make out with my eyes closed,” I insist.

“Oh yeah, that sounds so hot, me doing all of the work,” I tease.

“That does sound hot to me,” I say, opening my eyes weakly to look at her.

“Of course it does,” I roll my eyes gently, but I move to straddle his waist anyway, looking down at him.

“My light as a feather Princess Leia,” I say, looking up at her.

“Not for much longer if Chewie has his way,” I joke, thinking about how much he tries to feed me. He’s adorably loopy, and I can’t help but lean down to kiss him.

It’s a messy, tired kiss but a good one, because everything about Leia is good.

“Making me do alllll the work,” I tease sweetly, starting to kiss down his neck, pushing his shirt aside to nip gently at his collarbone.

“Hey! I’m kissing you plenty,” I say, looking down and watching her.

“Whatever you say, scoundrel,” I laugh, moving back up to kiss him again. “I love you…”