Chapter Text
Sometimes Leia hated politics.
Okay, that was inaccurate.
Really it was who she worked with, there was no amount of goodwill that made her less frustrated with the Senate. There was a special place in the afterlife for nerf-herders who preferred lining their pockets with credits over helping the people who really needed it.
Walking around the lower levels of Hosnian Prime, she could still see the scars that the Empire left on the planet and its people. Mistrust hung thick in the air like a smog, with ex-troopers shooting daggers at civilians and vice versa. Everyday the streets were filled with more refugees looking for jobs and any semblance of peace.
Ten years on, Leia could still see the Alderaanian Tear on some faces - she had to pull her hood further over her face to conceal her own heartbreak. It felt like no amount of time could heal a wound such as this.
Han had asked her once if she wanted to get her own Tear, but the memory of her planet being destroyed was too fresh in her mind.
Now, within the New Republic Senate, she honoured her fallen world by wearing clothing which resembled the traditional Alderaanian style, not like any of the Senators actually cared enough to recognise it.
To begin with Leia had felt somewhat grateful towards the sympathy surrounding Alderaan’s destruction. But after a year of working within the New Republic, she knew better, it was all just a game to them.
After five years, the condolences and platitudes were about as shallow as a puddle. On Jakku.
She was only one hour into the latest event and her cheeks ached from returning false smiles; Leia was under no illusion that the politicians there cared for her in any way. Having the previous leader of the Rebellion in their pocket was the thing they were really after.
However, Leia was neither naive nor a pawn in other people’s political games.
She was tired of Senators claiming she was “ignorant” of their struggles when she compared them to that of the Rebellion; it didn’t take a genius to realise most of them had supported the Empire and made credits off of the suffering of billions.
Like Leia wasn’t a general who fought with her soldiers.
(Like a part of her didn’t die when they did.)
Like she wasn’t tortured by Darth Vader.
(Like he wasn’t her father.)
Like her home planet wasn’t destroyed to provoke her.
(Like the blood of billions didn’t stain her hands.)
Why couldn’t she be on Yavin IV with Luke?
Although Leia made it clear she didn’t want to become a Jedi, but she would do just about anything to avoid the stuffy galas.
Even if that meant smuggling with Han and Chewie.
Who, of course, would deny any accusation they were faced with.
Leia could only cope so much with being dragged to events like an item on sale. She was also told to create glorified propaganda, displaying her gratitude towards the “opportunities” the New Republic gave her. “Opportunities” which could be offered to new peoples and planetary systems should they join the New Republic Senate.
Nodding along to the slimy words of the Senator opposite her, Leia counted down the seconds until it was acceptable for her to exit the conversation, or better yet, the damned event.
The smile she offered felt plastic with the calm facade thinly veiling her anger. They could be in the Senate building passing legislations which made a positive difference, but no. Instead they were in a stuffy building, chatting about things which didn’t matter to people who didn’t care.
Leia took a long drink from her glass. The wine wasn’t even good. Kriff she wanted spotchka.
Just like the politician across from her, Leia knew finding any genuine people here would be like finding water on Tatooine.
It. Wouldn’t. Happen.
Maybe if someone could try and assassinate her she could have an excuse to leave early. Then when Han came back home she could tell him one interesting thing had happened in the last few hours.
The amount of people who tried to bargain and barter with her over Naboo’s relations was astronomical. All the conversation began to blur together, all laced with the same condescension.
Princess Leia are you sure you can’t secure a trade route with Byss?
Naboo already has a trade agreement with Byss, Senator, I’m afraid I’m not sure what you mean.
Well, only that such an arrangement between Coursant and Byss is important for the stability of both systems, wouldn’t you agree Princess Leia?
It’s Senator Organa-Solo, not Princess Leia, and yes, it is important. As Senator of Naboo, I have no such influence over the representatives for Byss so you will have to conduct your business with them directly.
But, Princess Leia, you were the face of the Rebellion, surely you can secure some sort of agreement for us?
I’m afraid I don’t have the jurisdiction to authorise such an agreement Senator, nor am I interested in using my old position to help you.
I never said you had to do such a thing! Only that if you could help organise a meeting of sorts, we could find a mutually beneficial agreement.
Oh, my apologies Senator, it appears as if the Chancellor wants a word with me, another time perhaps.
It was times like those that made Leia wish she continued her Jedi training, if only to have a lightsaber. Then she could easily keep everyone at arm’s length. That way she could leave any events hastily and cite the Force as her excuse. That seemed reasonable enough.
Over the five years since the fall of the second Death Star, Luke’s position as the last Jedi began to look more and more appealing.
Even though the New Republic made every attempt at trying to draw her brother into the fold.
The Senate even tried to use Leia to get Luke to join, saying through affiliation he could be provided with everything to start a new school for Jedi.
Wisely, Luke heeded Leia’s warning of making any kind of deal, keeping tight lips on his Order’s location and size. The Senate continue to persist.
They wouldn’t if she started pointing her blaster at them.
Murderous thoughts aside, Leia watched as the subject of this evening’s event was ambushed by the Senator of Hevurion.
Again.
The Mand’alor.
There was barely anything known about him, not his name, his family, his friends, nothing. Or at least nothing important enough that the New Republic could hold to ransom to control him.
(Leia herself found her brother and her husband on the receiving end of vague threats if she tried anything too “outlandish”. Who was saying she had any amount of power again?)
Having done some research with Luke, they had discovered that in order to get the title of Mand’alor, you would have to win an ancient Mandalorian weapon called the Darksaber in combat.
That had certainly piqued Luke’s interest and he promised to ask his new padwan’s father more about it if he dropped by.
The capture of Moff Gideon was headline news when he was brought into the New Republic War Tribunal; the ISB officer was the previous owner of the Darksaber despite never claiming the title of Mand’alor.
He was an unpredictable individual - Leia had been present during his interrogation and he had not addressed who won the Darksaber off of him.
Only that they were dangerous.
Very helpful.
Following two months of silence, the saber reappeared in the hands of a fully armoured Mandalorian.
The New Republic scrambled to find out what had happened in that time. Leia figured it was to hide from prying eyes. Meanwhile the Senate was under the impression that the Mandalorian had been doing something illegal.
She was wise enough not to comment that the brewing mistrust between the parties was likely Moff Gideon’s intention. Her input was not wanted and Leia was not going to waste precious air on fools.
Said fools tried to coerce the Mandalorian population that had begun to rally behind their ruler - appearing from seeming nowhere. Much to their displeasure, the Senate has no ground on Mandalore.
The only thing Gideon had said about Mandalorians was the presence of Bo-Katan Kryze on the light cruiser before she stole it. Conveniently, alongside any potentially incriminating evidence.
The Marshal, Carasynthia Dune, only claimed to have seen Kryze’s Nite Owls aboard the ship. Leia needed no time to recognise the familiar tear tattooed to the Marshal’s cheek; deciding that if a fellow Alderaanian trusted the Mand’alor (who had definitely been aboard that ship) she wouldn’t question it too much.
When pressed the Moff also refused to give up any knowledge on the new Mand’alor, grinning like a mad man. Pleased when nervous looks were exchanged between officials.
Especially when the likes of Boba Fett and Fennec Shand were mentioned.
The New Republic had to ask themselves: what kind of person was Gideon willing to protect?
If you asked Leia, that was the wrong question.
What edge does the criminal get from keeping this information close to his chest?
She examined the Mandalorian from across the room, watching him lean unconsciously into the shadows as if trying to slip away. Not that she didn’t sympathise, she’d sooner surrender to a sarlaac than talk to Senator Ro-Kiintor.
When he had arrived earlier that evening there was a lot of masked surprise. The guardsmen at the doors armed themselves at the sight of the Darksaber, spear and blasters visible on the Mandalorian.
The hush allowed the room to hear one guard ask for him to remove his weapons but his mind changed when faced with the full attention of the cold T-visor. Babbling about making an exception, the guard turned back to attention at the door again.
It had taken a while for the usual chatter to return. The former general hadn’t missed the anxious glances passed over shoulders as the Mandalorian swept through to the room, before settling on the fringes.
Leia remembered when they were that scared of her. She had done the same as the Mand’alor - found the most defensible place in the room before waiting for skittish senators to try their luck talking to her.
Looking at him now, there must be something that they had on him - the leader of the glassed planet wasn’t a nerf-herder. She reckoned he could spot the power play in bringing him to a gala like this in Hosnian Prime.
Senator Ro-Kiinter was leaning forwards now, getting further and further into the Mandorian’s space, clearly trying to get something out of the one-sided conversation.
It looked like it was going to stay that way for some time.
Until it didn’t.
The silver Mandalorian stood up properly from where he had leant against the pillar, presumably speaking.
Whatever he said had the senator frozen still in one moment, fists clenching before sneering something in return and stalking away.
Now that was interesting.
The Mandalorian turned to go, maybe he’d had enough of being paraded around this evening; Leia knew she had.
Well, if he was going then she certainly wasn’t going to stick around. Draining her glass and depositing it on the nearest table, Leia said her polite goodbyes to those around her and slipped towards the exit, masterfully dodging anyone who tried to catch her eye.
There were many.
She had real alcohol at home, courtesy of Han, and after the dull gala she had endured Leia felt she was entitled to cracking open a few bottles.
None of the sparkling bantha shit that they served at these events, a proper drink which would give her a strong burn.
Picking up her cloak as she left, she pulled it around her shoulders as shelter from the cool Coursant air.
Time slipped idly by and a chill ran down Leia’s spine as she waited for transport, quickly realising how alone she was on the dark landing pad.
The Force which usually curled through the air, lazily drifting around people giving her impressions of calm-relax-safe , was coiled tight, tensing like trapped prey.
Each second that passed the feeling of harm-danger-run grew, she slipped her hand into the sown pocket of her gown, the familiar worn handle of her blaster giving her small comfort.
The transport came to standstill infront of her, the lights inside dim and foreboding.
Pressing her ID to the sensor, Leia boarded, scanning the room nervously. The flight computer beeped and the shuttle took off, taking her to her apartment. The feeling of danger hadn’t diminished - if anything it grew and lost in the Force she stepped away from the security of the shuttle walls into the centre of the room.
A thud rang out but the overwhelming presence of the Force downed it out in an instant.
She wasn’t alone.
A cloaked figure shifted in the place where they sat, facing away from her.
They were dark in the Force.
Like a campfire was lit, burning furiously and a fog descending shortly after, leaving it out of focus and the air around it cool.
The Force rose again. Insistent this time, the tide of harm-danger-run threatened to overtop her mental shields, to wash away any semblance of calm.
But Leia was a general before she was a politician, no matter what anyone said, so she stepped forwards silently instead of hitting the panic button concealed within the cabin. Without taking her eyes off the figure, she took ahold of her blaster from within her pocket.
A flash of silver caught her eye as the figure stood and twisted. She ducked as a blaster bolt shot past her ear, threatening to sear the side of her head.
Leia pulled her own blaster out in the same moment, holding it level to the T-shaped visor of the Mand’alor.
Only to hear the thud of a body hit the deck behind her.
Huh, so she did get that assassination attempt after all.
It was almost comical; the silence that had descended between the Mand’alor, the Senator and the newly dead body.
Hysterically, Leia thought it sounded like the start of a joke so bad no-one would bother laughing at it.
The only remaining noise was the hum of the transport as it trundled along.
Careful to keep her gun trained on the Mandalorian, Leia moved to get a closer look at her would-be assassin.
Crouching down, she turned the body over, with her skirt as a buffer as to avoid getting her finger prints on the body.
The snarl of a lilac Twi-lek greeted her, the blaster bolt from the Mandalorian cut clean through her neck, unprotected by the leather armour she wore.
There were knives clenched in either hand, primed to impale Leia should she not have known something was wrong.
Or rather, had the Mandalorian not killed her first.
Speaking of which, the Mand’alor stepped closer, telegraphing his movements to show his hands were clear of any weapons. Although Leia would be foolish to assume that would make him any less of a threat.
Really, she wouldn’t believe it if he didn’t have a weapon up his Beskar sleeve.
To her surprise, the Force relaxed once more, stretching around Leia like a cat just woken up, brushing up against the Mandalorian as if to greet him like an old friend, content again.
She lowered her blaster but kept it beside her. “Who was she?”
“Xi’an,” came the reply, “A bounty hunter who was sent to kill you. She probably didn’t want any witnesses.”
Leia knew all about deceiving appearances with her small stature, but for an imposing figure in full Beskar armour, the Mand’alor’s voice was shockingly soft.
The casual tone was unappreciated though, Leia’s eyes narrowed, “How did you know?”
The Mand’alor reached for the bounty hunter’s belt, find a black tracking fob; its blinking red light illuminated the silver helmet an unsettling blood red. He raised his head, cold visor meeting her equally cool gaze head on.
Leia could almost imagine him cocking a brow at her direct attitude.
“I had a tip off that she was after you from an old associate.”
So he was a bounty hunter.
He tilted his head, “She had a personal grudge against me.”
Leia was very unimpressed and it must have been more obvious than she initially thought, a moment later, “Long story.”
“Don’t bounty hunters carry pucks too, of their target?” Leia said, remembering the amount of beings who tried to kill Han, Luke and herself in the first year of the New Republic.
“Unless it was a personal client who couldn’t risk any ties.”
The transport halted, Leia walked to the door resigned, slipping her blaster back into her pocket. “I’ve got to call for an investigation.”
“You can’t.”
Her hackles raised, “Why not?”
Leia couldn’t risk anything right now. Luke depended on her for supplies and for debating on his behalf on the senate floor - if she could pawn off this hassle she would.
Why did she have to plead for an assassination attempt earlier? There was so much paperwork involved.
“Because Xi’an was on a Republic prison ship, so unless any jail breaks happened recently-“
“-Someone sprung her from within the Senate.” She finished, ice flooded her veins, the Force freezing as the realisation sunk in.
Someone in the Republic wanted her dead.
Fuck.
Leia really wished Han was here right about now, but the chances of him staying for long were slim. At least he was arriving tomorrow, she could discuss their next move then.
She took in a deep breath, stepping onto the landing pad. All she could see was how little cover there was - how exposed she could be to snipers. Even Hoth had more cover.
Turning to the Mandalorian, who still crouched by the body, she spoke with no room for discussion, “Leave it, I’ll lock the transport down to search the body tomorrow, are you coming inside?”
No response. How helpful.
Sighing, she set the shuttle to lock for the night from it’s control panel and she headed towards the building where her apartment was. It loomed above her, a towering presence; she halted at the entrance long enough to hear quiet footsteps walk after her.
Damn she could really do with a drink.