[ she knows, but can't bring herself to say a simple pair of words that resonate in her head a distinct corellian accent. i know rings too close to home, reminding her of a loss that was very nearly permanent and now, pretty much is.
leia reclaims her hand, slipping her fingers from his grasp. that hand latches on to the wrist of the other, gaze directed downward as she watches her bare feet move through the sand. ]
I was involved with someone. [ involved, because she doesn't know what else to call it. they were lovers, and she most certainly loved him, but there hadn't been any time to talk about what they were doing or wanted from one another. nevermind what she could and couldn't have. even mon mothma knew she was chasing a pipe dream when she took a leave of absence to get him back from jabba. royalty -- especially the last living heir to a dead world -- didn't have that luxury. she would have to make a choice one day between following her heart or doing what was right for her people, and it was difficult to say at this point in her life which one she would ultimately choose.
mon knew that, too. she had an obligation to the survivors of her world, to the memory of alderaan. one that wasn't so easily ignored. ]
We weren't together very long, and war made it difficult to find time to ourselves. [ beyond the trip to bespin, but it wasn't like they spent the bulk of that flight talking. ] I was always needed somewhere or for something or another... [ a sigh. ] If it wasn't governors, regional ministers, or static transmissions being bounced off an obsolete string of beacons, it was my karking father trying to butt into my life!
[ ah, there it is. if you ever wanted to get princess leia talking about anakin skywalker, reid, now's the time. ]