Leia, Princess of Alderaan (Journey to Star Wars: The Last Jedi)
Claudia Gray
The Day of Demand had been announced months before. Guests had already arrived from worlds across the galaxy, and delicious aromas from the banquet being prepared wafted through the palace halls. The weather had failed to cooperate with the celebration plans—low dark clouds hung heavily over the city of Aldera, threatening a downpour—but even the impending storm felt dramatic and grand, in a way.
It was the perfect setting for a princess to claim her right to the crown of Alderaan.
“Ow.” Leia made a face. “That pulls.”
“And it’s going to keep pulling,” promised WA-2V, Leia’s personal attendant droid. Her bluish metal fingers swiftly wove one final braid in the complicated traditional style. “Today of all days, you must look your best.”
“You say that every day.” As a little girl, Leia had only ever wanted to tie her hair back in a tail. Her parents had said she was free to do as she liked. But 2V had held firm. Her programming demanded that she present the princess in grand style, and not even the princess herself could say otherwise.
“It’s true every day,” 2V insisted, coiling the braid in a loop and pinning it in place. “Standards are even higher for special occasions!”
Leia felt a small quiver in her belly, equal parts nerves and anticipation. This was the biggest day in her life since her first Name Day, when her parents had taken her into the throne room and declared her their daughter by adoption and by love—
She shook off the thought. That time all she had to do was be a baby in her mother’s arms. This time she’d have to stand up for herself.
Once the hairstyle was done, Leia gratefully slipped into the clothing she and 2V had compromised on: a simple white dress for her, bold silver jewelry for 2V. Just as she toed into her satiny slippers, the orchestral fanfare swelled from the throne room, echoing through the palace’s corridors. It felt as though her parents were personally knocking on her door.
“One more thing!” 2V pleaded. She rolled to the cabinet on the small sphere she had for a base, then swerved back with a silver headband, which she neatly fitted into the braids so its pearl charm hung at the center of Leia’s forehead. “Yes. Yes. That’s it. You look absolutely stunning! I work miracles, I really do.”
Leia shook her head in amusement. “Thanks a lot.”
Oblivious, 2V shooed her charge toward the door. “Hurry! They’re all waiting.”
“It’s not like they can start without me, TooVee.” Still, Leia picked up the tail of her gown and hurried into the corridor. She didn’t want to be late. The princes and princesses who had made their demands in ancient times had sometimes had to fight their way to the throne room. It was meant to be a moment of strength and command—in other words, not a moment to prove you couldn’t even show up on time.
Alderaan’s royal palace had been the work of more than a millennium. Their monarchy was one that dedicated itself to serving its people, so they’d never built high spires or commanding towers to dominate the landscape. Instead, new chambers were added every few decades, creating a sprawling labyrinth where modern data centers and holochambers existed side-by-side with ancient rooms hewn from stone. Leia knew each hallway, each door by heart; as a small child she’d reveled in exploring some of the most shadowy, out-of-the-way passages. Sometimes she thought she might’ve been the only person in centuries to have found every single room in the palace.
Fortunately she knew the shortcut through the old armory, which got her to the antechamber of the throne room in plenty of time. The royal guards smiled when they saw her, and she grinned back as she straightened the cape of her gown. To the taller guard, she whispered, “How’s the baby?”
“Sleeping through the night already,” he replied. Leia mimed applause, and he ducked his head, almost bashfully.
Really she didn’t know much about babies, except that parents were very proud of them even though they kept everybody up at night. But if the guard was happy to have a sleepy baby, then she was happy for him.
“We’re lucky on Alderaan,” her father had said as they sat by the library hearth. “We are loved by our people. We have their loyalty. That’s because we love them and are loyal to them in turn. If we ever cease to appreciate those around us—from the highest lord to the humblest laborer—we’ll lose that loyalty. We’ll deserve to lose it.”
Leia was jerked back into the moment by the rustling of the velvet curtain at the door. Swiftly she went to the wall where the Rhindon Sword hung, grabbed it by the hilt, and took it in hand. She’d practiced with it a few times, but its weight surprised her every time.
Position: doorway center. Sword: both hands on the hilt, arms close to body, blade upright. Speech…
I remember the speech, she told herself. I definitely remember it. I’m just blanking on it at the moment and it’ll absolutely come back to me when I’m standing in front of hundreds of people—
The curtain was tugged to the side. Brilliant light, tinted by vast panes of stained glass, fell on her. Two hundred guests turned as one, all of them standing on either side of a blue-and-gold carpet that traced a line directly through the room to the golden thrones where Breha and Bail Organa sat.
Leia marched forward, sword held high. A low rumble of thunder made her grateful for the candledroids projecting light through the windows; otherwise, the room would’ve been nearly pitch-black. She’d practiced this but didn’t think she could do it with her eyes closed.
I don’t know, it might’ve been easier if I couldn’t see all the guests staring at me. Leia had spent her entire life appearing before crowds, but today was the first time they would hear her voice in an official capacity, as their future queen.
Breha Organa wore a dress of bronze silk, her hair piled high atop her head in braids woven through with strings of beads. Next to her, Bail Organa wore the traditional long jacket of the viceroy. The crown itself had been brought back from the museum to sit atop a marble pillar, illuminated by a candledroid of its own. Her parents looked even more regal than usual—almost forbidding. Were they enjoying the charade?
Leia thought she was, or she would be if her parents had invited fewer people. Usually only a handful of offworlders would be present, but this time her father had asked many of his diplomatic allies in the Imperial Senate—Tynnra Pamlo from Taris, Cinderon Malpe of Derella, and both Winmey Lenz and Mon Mothma of Chandrila. Mon Mothma smiled wider as Leia passed her. Maybe she meant to be encouraging.