"Obi-Wan saved my life," Leia answers, a little absent, as she stares at her daughter. Her breath is cold and heavy in her chest.
Anakin. Anakin Solo. That can't be right. She would never--could never--surely every time she looks at that child, she thinks of the man who could never be a father to her. Even imagining a little boy, dark-haired like Ben, with Han's angular features, and naming him after a remorseless murderer seems impossible.
(All right, all right, Luke thinks there's still good in Vader. And however furious she is with the Anakin here, he's not yet Vader. That doesn't change how horrifying the thought of a son named for Anakin--for Anakin, not for Bail--is to her.)
But right now, Anakin Solo is a theory only, while Jaina Solo is standing here before her. Leia forces herself to focus on that fact and, a little dryly, asks, "Just how many siblings do you have?"
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Anakin. Anakin Solo. That can't be right. She would never--could never--surely every time she looks at that child, she thinks of the man who could never be a father to her. Even imagining a little boy, dark-haired like Ben, with Han's angular features, and naming him after a remorseless murderer seems impossible.
(All right, all right, Luke thinks there's still good in Vader. And however furious she is with the Anakin here, he's not yet Vader. That doesn't change how horrifying the thought of a son named for Anakin--for Anakin, not for Bail--is to her.)
But right now, Anakin Solo is a theory only, while Jaina Solo is standing here before her. Leia forces herself to focus on that fact and, a little dryly, asks, "Just how many siblings do you have?"