An Alderaanian Love Story

Chapter 24

A.N.: Hello, again all you lovely, loyal readers! I know last chapter was kind of . . . um . . . depressing. And I mustn't tell a lie. I don't feel bad one bit! (Especially since it's going to get worse!)

This fanfic is on two sites and I've gotten loads of comments from both. So, consider this an apology to everyone from both sites who commented something along the lines of 'I hope nothing bad ever happens to Han/Leia to rip them apart' or 'I hope things work out well for them'. I'm sorry, guys.(Not really!)

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  Han's body weighed so much, he wasn't sure how much further he would be able to make it. The pressure weighed that heavily on him. In his gut lied a dead weight of heavy, immeasurable guilt. Fear gnawed at his stomach, curdling his insides like old, sour milk. Han felt stupid. And because of his stupidity, Han felt even more stupid. He was putting Leia in risk. Leia was in danger because of him. By merely coming to Alderaan, Han had put Leia in serious danger and now it was too late.
They'd found him.
They'd found him.

He should have been more suspicious when he'd spotted the first one. Dressed nothing like a common Alderaanian citizen nor resembling a species that inhabited Alderaan, Han should have known right then. All it had taken were two of them for Han to come to the horrible realization: Jabba's bounty hunters had found him. They were stalking him, following his every move, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce on Han and deliver the death blow.

Leia was in danger.

  The thought hit Han square in the chest and stole his breath away, that heavy pressure returning. Every day, he tried to spend as much time as he could with Leia. He'd often visit her in her bedroom, at the palace. Leia's home. Leia's bedroom. Where Leia often was. Han was always with her, the belle of Alderaan. The one Greedo had been sure to notice Han leaving the dance house with, escorting her to their speeder. The one Cradossk, the trandoshan, had been sure to see Han with before he'd left the Alderaanian royal palace. They'd seen Leia. They knew Han was, more often than not, with her. And Han knew she was now a target, too.
  All thanks to him.

  All the comm calls, the visits, the flimsis with his fingerprints on them, they could all be traced from Leia's private comm or her room . . . back to Han. Han Solo, legendary spice smuggler, Corellian outlaw. The same Han Solo Jabba had a huge bounty on. And Han didn't want to know how much Leia was worth on the black market.

  But they'd found him, knew Leia . . .
  Leia was in danger.

  It was his fault. Again, the pain hit him and he doubled over, wincing as if the pain were physical.
  He loved Leia, loved her more than anything he had, more than anyone else did. He loved her like no other love has been given. He loved her most.

  But Leia was still in danger so long as Han was around.
  He loved Leia. He had to keep her safe. He wasn't willing to put her at risk any longer. No, he loved her more than that. And he would prove it to her. Because Han loved her that much.

  Han left Ducchi's shop in a rush, headed for the palace because he had never been any good at leaving Leia without a proper goodbye.

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  "A marriage alliance," Mothma smiled at the thought, her gaze turned to the table beneath her hands. "Between the two greatest kingdoms in all the galaxy. Now that is quite something, Viceroy. However did you manage?"
  "Actually," the Alderaanian once-senator chuckled nervously. "I had no such plans, but rather it was a discussion on my sister Celly's behalf. I was unaware that the conversation was to take place. I don't think I would have permitted such had I known she was planning on it."