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“Star Wars” super couple Han Solo and Leia Organa survived the rebellion and each other long enough to start a family and have a son, Ben Solo, who would (SPOILER ALERT) eventually betray them both and kill his dad with a lightsaber. But before things got grim for their intergalactic love, they had a wedding and honeymoon! And for those super fans left wondering, what really happened after “Return of the Jedi’s” teddy bear picnic finale? New novel “Star Wars: The Princess and the Scoundrel” has the answer.
Penned by Beth Revis, Han and Leia’s love story continues on in print. The book follows the twosome through their sith-free wedding all the way to their space-age honeymoon on the luxury ship Halcyon — yes, the very same galactic starcruiser you can book for approximately $6,000 a night at Disney World Florida.
Apparently Han and Leia has a lot of stans in the books, as well as in real life, because according to the synopsis from “Scoundrel,” as soon as they entered the honeymoon stage, “Their marriage, and the peace and prosperity it represents, are a lightning rod for all — including Imperial remnants still clinging to power. Facing their most desperate hour, the soldiers of the Empire have dispersed across the galaxy, retrenching on isolated planets vulnerable to their influence. As the Halcyon travels from world to world, one thing becomes abundantly clear: The war is not over. But as danger draws closer, Han and Leia find that they fight their best battles not alone, but as husband and wife.”
Whether or not this plot line is available to experience in the Disney World hotel is unknown, but you can read all about it for a much lower fare in the book. Variety is debuting the concept art of Princess Leia’s wedding dress and an exclusive excerpt about the moment she walked down the aisle.
Read about the wedding dress reveal below:
Han felt the color draining from his face. How could it already be time? But through the spiral hole in the Great Tree, Han could just see the crowds of people sitting, their eyes forward. No one talked among themselves. They were waiting. On him. To go. It was time.
He just had to walk past that curtain and take his spot in front of the tree trunk.
One foot in front of the other. Everyone was waiting. He just had to walk out there. He just had to go.
Han didn’t move.
Chewie prodded him, speaking as softly as he could to ask what was wrong.
“Nothing’s wrong,” Han said too quickly. “Nothing at all.”
Chewie poked him again. Han stumbled forward a step, but then his feet felt too heavy to move. He adjusted the lightweight jacket, yanking on its open front. “It’s really hot in here, isn’t it?”
Chewie growled, grabbed Han’s arm, and jerked him forward. “Hey!” Han said, running to keep up with the Wookiee’s long legs. “You don’t have to drag me!”
“Arr-gryu,” Chewie grumbled back.
“I’m going, I’m going, you don’t have to threaten to carry me,” Han said, jerking his arm free from Chewie’s grasp just as the Wookiee swung the curtain aside.
Every single eye in the entire temple turned to him. Han tried to grin, but he kept his lips closed, just in case his breakfast decided to join the party. Chewie jabbed him in the back, and Han stumbled forward, moving toward the front of the crowd and taking his spot to the side of the twisted tree trunk. He could feel the rough bark at his back; if he reached through the twisting branches, he could touch the amber orb that rested in the center.
Why was everyone looking at him? The faces blurred together—Ewok, human, droid, various other species—they were all turned toward him. Of course, Han was alone at the front of the temple, so it stood to reason that they would look at him, but still . . .
And then the door in the back opened.
There was one second—just a heartbeat—when everyone was looking toward Han, but Han was looking at the door. And in that heartbeat, Leia stepped inside.
There was no one in the entire galaxy but Leia and Han.
Her eyes met his, and her smile was brighter than any star.
And it was just for him.
Han was rooted to the floor, but it was different from when Chewie had prodded him to take his spot in the temple. Before, what he’d really wanted to do was go somewhere private. But Han couldn’t move now if he wanted to—and he never wanted to. Not with her walking between the benches toward him.
Leia wore a gown made of soft meadow green, embroidered with flowers similar to the ones bedecking the outside of the temple. It hung loose over her body, yet it wasn’t shapeless. The sides were open, giving her space to move her legs and expose the laces of her white fur boots that went all the way up to her knees. She held a bouquet of wildflowers tied with the same bit of lacing woven in her hair, and Han suspected that Leia had picked the flowers just before she’d climbed the ladder to the temple.
Leia’s long hair hung in loose waves down her back, with two small braids framing her face to keep locks out of her way. She wore flowers but no jewels. She looked more nymph than princess.
Han could barely breathe as she approached him, joy in her eyes. Leia had never looked more like herself than in this moment. She wasn’t stately or noble. She wasn’t the epitome of grace or the face of the Rebellion.
In this moment, Leia was no longer the people’s princess. She was all the more beautiful because she was only herself. Just Leia.
Reprinted from STAR WARS: THE PRINCESS AND THE SCOUNDREL. © 2022 by Lucasfilm Ltd. Published by Random House Worlds, an imprint of Random House, a division of Penguin Random House LLC.