The Organas
A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away there lived a queen and her king – in stature if not title. Breha was born to be queen, but there was no line of succession that would have ever put Bail on the throne.
He was a prince, and then a senator, but it wasn’t until he met and married Breha that his power extended beyond his province. It was a courtship of love, one of stolen kisses and secret missives.
When Breha proposed, the world rejoiced. There were some that turned their noses up to this upstart Bail, who did not carry any royal blood within him.
The Organa family reminded the dissenters that first kings and queens of Alderaan were elected. Though the title and position had become of lineage and inheritance, that was not the founders’ original intent.
Bail and Breha were married and were a symbol of the peace and prosperity that was to come. There were but a few who could have seen, or predicted, what was to come.
It started off as a trade dispute; who had what rights to where. Bail and Breha championed peace through democracy, but had little say in what transpired next.
They had their own battles to fight. While perhaps insignificant when weighed against a galactic war, the Organas had not yet had a child.
The dissenters, who had never liked Bail from the beginning, began to vocalize their concerns over why he had not been able to provide the queen a child.
The Organas wanted a child, not to pass the throne off to, but to have and to hold; to tickle and kiss and teach.
The nights were long, the doctor visits were frequent. As months became years, hope faded from Breha’s eyes. Of all the miracles and wonders in the galaxy they had discovered and tamed, none could provide a way out for the Organas.
So when Bail first heard about the cloners on Kamino, he sat up a little straighter. He asked a few more questions than he usually did. He took notes and he volunteered for the first facility inspection that could be arranged.
The Kaminoans’ knowledge of human biology was unparalleled. Bail was stunned by the width and depth of their research, he was appreciative of their patience.
He underwent exhaustive testing and as they prepared his results, they bundled up for him a selection of tests he and Breha could perform at home, as well as some educational holovids they could watch together.
Before the sleek, elegant scientist released these to Bail, she said softly, “there are some mysteries that simply refuse to be solved. However, should this not work out for you in the way you would like, we would be happy to discuss personal cloning with you and your wife.”
“Perhaps,” the Kaminoan said, “that could provide a measure of solace for you, your queen, and your people.”
Breha cried when Bail shared what he had brought, what he had learned. But then she shook her head. “All I need is you, for the rest of my life.”
It wasn’t a lie. Two years ago, it would have been. But she had made her peace with never being a mother. And through the hardship, Bail never flagged or failed. He was ever hopeful, ever diligent, and ever willing to try this month’s recommendation.
The hole in heart was healing, Bail could see that. And perhaps she would find something to fully fill it, but it would always be there. There would always be a longing, and aching.
As the war on the Outer Rim carved its way into the heart of the galaxy, Bail devoted more of his days to the war effort – no, not the war effort. The peace effort.
He sat and supped with every senator, every dignitary, every general on every side of the conflict that would give him a fraction of their time.
Breha dedicated herself to her people. Alderaan, a peaceful planet of art and music, became a sanctuary to those displaced by the war.
There were those, of course, that bristled at this. There were senators that felt it undermined the war effort and there were more local fears of the unknown.
These refugees spoke different languages and respected different customs. Some of them didn’t even look human.
The concerns of the galactic senate were not Breha’s concerns. She did, however, understand and appreciate the fears of her people.
To quell those fears, she spearheaded a multi-tiered PR campaign that introduced the customs, rituals, and histories of the people most affected by this war. Slowly, the people of Alderaan began to see they were not so different after all.
And, they had to admit, if the situation was reversed, and Alderaan was being reduced to rubble, they would appreciate a stranger’s good faith.
When the first transports arrived, Breha was the first on the dock, the first to greet them, the first to show them what an Alderaan Welcome looks like.
Bail and Breha had purpose. They were fanning the spark of hope, praying it would ignite and spread through the galaxy.
But there the darkness was relentless, sowing chaos and fear that stamped out hope’s fledgling embers.
The Jedi fell. At the heart of the Jedi conflict was Anakin Skywalker and Breha’s best friend in the senate, Padme Amidala.
Padme’s exact involvement was a surprise that remained a mystery for the rest of their lives. Bail and Breha only learned of it after she heartbreakingly passed away. She died giving birth.
Perhaps it was fate, but Bail was there when the twins were born. Some considered him a hero, called him brave and wonderful, but it was for very selfish reasons he volunteered to take the twins.
He just wanted to be a father. And he wanted Breha to be a mother. And here were two children that needed parents.
The last Jedi, General Kenobi and Master Yoda, thought it best to separate the twins. Bail didn’t understand why, but had learned to not debate them. He snatched up the little girl, hoping Obi-Wan would change his mind soon and the twins would be reunited.
Breha cried and covered the baby girl with kisses. She cried over the baby. She cried over Padme. She cried over Bail and the three of them held each other so tightly.
Breha’s chief advisor, a thin-lipped and thin-skinned man named Veil, was troubled by the arrival of the girl who already being called Princess. She was not an Organa. She wasn’t even of Alderaan.
He once brought it up to Bail, who pinned Veil against the wall and dared him to “say she’s not my daughter again.”
Veil, who had always been to familiar with Bail, hissed back, “My concern is not whether or not she’s your daughter, she is not the queen’s!”
Veil was without a job by the end of the day. Breha sent him away, saying, “she is my daughter and your princess and if things continue the way they are, she will one day be your queen.”
Veil left the palace but did not leave the public eye. In the Alderaan Parliament he became the Organas’ most vocal opponent.
Veil made it not secret he subscribed to Senator Palpatine’s worldview. There are the way things were and there are the way things are. If the customs and culture and of Alderaan are to be preserved, things needed to return to the way they were.
“Instead of forging the Clone Army from a melting pot, there isn’t a single weak link! Millions serve in our army, but it is a single soldier, working in tandem and in unison with his brothers!”
Veil’s racist fear-mongering frustrated the Organas. There was actual evil in the galaxy that needed their attention. This angry little man’s pettiness only distracted from the bigger picture.
But every attack Veil launched, the Organas turned into a teaching moment. Leia witnessed it all and she learned.
Leia made Bail and Breha’s strengths her own. And, try as they might, their weaknesses too. She was a little too impatient, a little too brash, a little too uncompromising. She spoke her mind with no concern how others might take it.
But for those that needed it, she was patient and she was kind. She reserved her temper for those that tried to make the galaxy a small place.
She was curious, always tugging on her father’s sleeve and asking “what is that?” She knew no fear. She would try anything and wanted to learn everything.
As the Empire rose out of the Republic, it never crossed the Organas’ minds to keep Leia away from the Rebellion. It was right to rebel. It was good to rebel.
The princess joined her father on many of his trips. She would listen and more than once, recommend what their next mission should be.
Bail and Breha watched her grow and, perhaps as every parent does, knew she was destined for great things.
Perhaps they shouldn’t have made themselves feel small for wanting a family. It felt unimportant in the shadow of galactic war. But, perhaps, the path they took to become a family was exactly what the galaxy needed.
Perhaps raising Leia was the most important thing they had ever done.
