Just a silly, ridiculous little thing I wrote about, oh, a year ago and promptly forgot. Enjoy, friends.
"All in the Family"
It wasn't that she hated them. They were just . . . annoying.
The kissing and the touching and the looks and the blushing and the hand-holding and the candy death threats.
Oh, those were the worst.
Why it was necessary to rehash the parameters of their relationship during the first few months of their introduction she would never know. As far as she could remember, they had been at war. Thrawn had been tapping the NR hallways. Han had been gone most of the time. She had been heavier than she'd ever been in her life and remembered wishing that she'd just explode and get it over with. Life had been hard and stressful and demanding, and . . .
And they made it seem like a water cruise in Aldera.
She sighed and swept a hand over her eyes, moving an errant hair that had latched onto her lashes. She couldn't blame them, not really. Luke and Mara had a right to enjoy their memories as much as anyone else. She was happy for her twin – how many years had she been desperate to find him a suitable match? She'd imagined a sweet, kind girl for Luke, a polite Jedi adept that would respect him and take care of him, a girl that suited his quiet tendencies and philosophical ramblings.
It hadn't really turned out that way.
The cute little thing turned into the redheaded angel of death.
Not that she was complaining. She genuinely liked Mara, had considered her a friend for many years now. But her and Luke? Not so much. Not that there was anything wrong with it, it was just . . . disorienting. And to be told with all the care and consideration of a block of carbonite.
"We're getting married."
Leia regretted her lack of grace in that moment more than any she could remember.
And so they were married. And she gave away her little brother – throughout the years, she'd insisted she was older ("After all," she'd say, "I didn't get stuck on a moisture farm in the middle of nowhere, did I?") – and welcomed the ball of fire with flaming hair into her family.
And, oh, what a family it was.
A Sith Lord, a princess, a farmboy, two smugglers, and more of a headache than even a Jedi Healer could cure. Both the Skywalker twins seemed to have a fetish for spouses who live just outside the normal bounds of, say, legality. Not that Luke and she were exactly stand-up Imperial citizens themselves, but she, for instance, had never actually danced for Jabba and Luke, certainly, had never been much in the way of Wookiee sidekicks. Well, now, sure, but not before leaving Tatooine.
She hoped choosing less-than-respectable spouses was not a Skywalker genetic defect. Her poor children would forever be scarred.
More so than they already were, being the grandspawn of Darth Vader.
And that was the other strange thing about this family, Leia thought, shifting so that her legs dangled over the arm of the chair she was sitting in. Who in their right mind would choose to have Vader as their in-law? Perhaps the only ones who would deal with a Dark Lord of the Sith as their father-in-law were already in the red zone as far as dementia was concerned.
She smiled, pleased with the train of thought. She could blame the roguishness of her brother's and her spousal choices on her father. It was a nice ringer to all the other thousands of things she blamed on him, not the least being that Luke had those pretty blue eyes and she was stuck with the ridiculous brown ones.Or that he could do the little flip thing with his fingers and call his lightsaber back to his hand without having a bruise on his palm the next morning.Or that she had been able to understand what it was Mara was saying to Luke within their little Force-bond last night. She'd rather not know what his preferences in that area were, thank you very much.
Although, to be fair, Luke had a lot more practice at discretional thought-listening as far as she and Han were concerned.
So, yes, the evil Lord of the Sith had had twins. And the twins were chronically screwed up, one marrying the real-life equivalent of a father's worst nightmare and the other bound to the woman who oh-so desperately wanted to kill him years before they actually met. It was a nice, stable family, she thought, her little Skywalker clan. They were all insane, all vaguely suicidal, and all able to read each other's minds, emotions, whatever. Well, except Han, of course, but he was the only one. And she suspected that he read their minds anyway, he was so perceptive, and that was okay by her, because she happened to know for a fact that Mara had on one occasion messed with her husband's memories to convince him that she was actually the one who had bet on Manchun the Crusher and that he owed her fifty credits.
Which, of course, was untrue. But whatever.
The holofilm directors won't know about that when the memoirs come out.
I'm so tempted to plagerize Silindro's now infamous line about fanfiction sin in remembrance of the last "Clandestine Moments" chapter.
But I won't.
Because plagerists go to hell.
With people who don't review. :P