Disclaimer: Everything belongs to George.
Note: In my world, the man takes the woman's last name in a traditional Alderaanian marriage. But Han's always liked to buck tradition.

A Princess and a Guy Like Me

There are many things that Han Solo enjoys about being married to Queen Leia Organa, but being called "Prince Consort" isn't one of them.

"Prince Organa, Chef Antilles requests that you go over the choices for the banquet with him," one of Leia's pompous servants (a butler or something—Han isn't sure what they call these people) says through his nose. "Her Highness is insistent that everything be perfect."

"Yeah, sure," Han says, rolling his eyes. "And I've told you before. It's Solo. Got it? Solo. You can even add a 'Prince' on the front, if you want."

"Of course, sir," the man says in tones of utmost propriety, the slight upturn of his lip indicating plainly just what he thinks of his prince's insistence on keeping his own name. Alderaan is nothing if not traditional.

"Aw, forget it!" Han huffs, throwing his hands up for drama's sake, and stomps off towards the kitchen.

The name thing is annoying, sure, but it's always fun messing with people. And he's always hated those butlers (or whatever they are) and their ridiculous sleeves. No matter what Leia says.

Chef Antilles wants to know if it will be acceptable to serve Mingbarian jellyfish for the main course. Really, it's all Han can do not to strangle the man. (He's beginning to wonder if that wasn't Vader's problem all along. Idiotic cooks will do that to a guy.)

For Leia's sake, though, he holds his tongue and counts to thirty (because the first two times didn't quite do it), then informs the chef in as even a tone as he can manage that Chewbacca is allergic to Mingbarian jellyfish. As Antilles really ought to have known, since Han had to tell him at least three times before each of the banquets in the last year.

Really, he doesn't know where Leia finds these people. He'd cook the meal himself, but Leia tells him that Alderaanian high society doesn't care for Corellian roast.

He puts it down to a lack of culture and tells the cook to make something that doesn't involve seafood.

Han escapes the kitchens only to wish he hadn't when he's cornered by a dour old woman with the most ridiculous hairstyle he's ever seen. He suddenly has a vision of Leia forty years from now, all of her laughter sucked dry by the demands of her position, leaving nothing but frown lines and an absurd topiary of gray hair.

The woman gives him a haughty look of distaste when he screams out loud.

"Prince Organa," she says with courtesy so pointed that it's circled right back around to disgust, "the flowers require your attention."

He stares at her as though she's gone mad and makes a dash for the entry hall. Halfway to the door, he turns and shouts, "Make 'em blue!" over his shoulder, but he doesn't slow his pace.

Three hours before the banquet is due to begin, the universe finally takes pity on him and offers him salvation in the form of a comcall from Luke Skywalker. It takes him less than two minutes to get to the hangar, and a scant ten minutes later he's arrived at his favorite no-nonsense diner, where Luke and Chewie are already saving the corner booth. He's here to discuss a vital matter of state with the galaxy's only Jedi Master.

"I tell you, kid, Darrie's has the best nerf sandwiches on the planet."

Luke's got this annoying habit of smirking behind his hand when he's trying to be subtle, and that's what he's doing now. It doesn't help that Chewie's laughing none-too-quietly, either.

Han shoots them both a glare and says, "Oh, laugh it up already." He takes another bite of his sandwich and says with his mouth full (because he's missed being able to do that), "I don't know how Leia survives all of these sleemos."

Luke snorts. "Jorlan isn't a sleemo, Han."

Han favors him with a studied blank look, and he's pleased to see that Chewie's expression is similarly confused.

Luke roles his eyes. "Your chief of staff?" When Han still looks blank, he adds, "You know, the butler?"

"Oh," says Han, bored already. "Him. Never liked the guy."

Through a combination of Luke's excuses and his own ingenuity at…strategic concealment, Han manages to avoid the palace until just before the banquet is scheduled to begin. He's not terribly looking forward to it, anyway. True, it's his own anniversary banquet, but everyone knows that the public ceremony isn't really for the couple being celebrated. They'll have their own time later, and there certainly won't be so many politicians around!

But he grins and bears it for Leia's sake. She meets him at the doors for their grand entrance (another of those royal customs that he hates). When the butler (what did Luke say his name was, again?) turns his back, she runs her finger along his arm and whispers in his ear, "Well, you survived." It's just enough to make him wonder if maybe today wasn't so bad, after all.

He has Leia, and at least there's free food. Hopefully not seafood.

And then Leia smirks and brushes at his shirt collar in mock irritation. "You have a bit of sauce there, nerfherder," she says.

It's exactly then that the banquet hall doors open and the butler (whose name Han still can't remember) announces, "Presenting Her Royal Highness Queen Leia Organa and her consort, Prince Han Organa."

They never get the name right.