Exclusive: Bail Organa And Princess Leia Share A Father-Daughter Moment In STAR WARS: EDGE OF THE ABYSS

Who was the most important parent in the Star Wars saga? Which parent-child relationship was the most healthy? Obviously, we all know that neither Han Solo nor Anakin Skywalker were great fathers. Uncle Owen was a pretty solid dad, but Luke probably didn’t perceive him that way. This means that the award for best dad in the Star Wars universe probably falls to Bail Organa, the leader from Alderaan who took in Leia as his adopted daughter after Padmé Amidala passed in Revenge of the Sith. By the era of Rebels, Rogue One, and A New Hope, Leia was a major player in the Rebellion, but what about right before that? When Leia was just starting to become a teenager, what was her relationship with her father like?

Aspects of a new novel from Rebecca Roanhorse explore various figures from the early days of the Rebellion, including the Organas. On Father’s Day, 2026, Inverse is proud to present an exclusive excerpt from Star Wars: The Edge of the Abyss, the second book in the Reign of Empire trilogy. Set just one year before Andor Season 1, young Leia and her father Bail discuss art, music, and the meaning of freedom.

EXCERPT FROM STAR WARS: EDGE OF THE ABYSS (REIGN OF THE EMPIRE) by Rebecca Roanhorse (Random House Worlds, On Sale: September 15, 2026)

On Alderaan, weighed down by the responsibilities of his growing network of rebel spies and his efforts to build a true coalition to stand against the Empire, Bail Organa seeks comfort by connecting with his daughter Leia Organa over music and visions of a brighter future.

In the dozen-odd years since Palpatine had re-formed the Republic as the Em­pire, Bail had come to realize that the people he loved and the ideals he valued were better served when he stepped back and worked behind the scenes. Let others be the firebrand, making the speeches and inflaming the people. His job now was to make sure those in the vanguard had the support they needed to achieve their shared ends. He missed being out front, calling out injustice when he saw it, urging people to live up to their highest ideals. But he understood that his role was different now. Spycraft and subtlety had become his stock-in-trade, and to his occa­sional amazement, he was good at it. It was a bit like an ill-fitting coat he had slowly grown accustomed to, the shoulders still too tight and the sleeves too long.

Thunder rumbled outside, drawing his gaze to the window. For the briefest moment, he allowed himself to doubt. He didn’t do that often, let reservations creep in. Doubt was a poison that, if entertained too long, would undermine his hope. And he did have hope. But as he watched the ever-growing patter of rain against his window, he won­dered how the galaxy had changed so much. Somewhere along the way, people had decided that peace was worth more than the truth. He un­derstood it. War was terrible. But so was cowardice. Sometimes the things worth saving required one to fight for them.

His thoughts were interrupted by the cheery notes of a Core pop song coming from somewhere down the hall. Leia’s doing, no doubt. A woman’s voice crooned an appealing melody over the deceptively sim­ple sound of a double viol and a steady drumbeat. He paused, listening more closely, as the lyrics complained about a man who may have meant well but who had broken the singer’s heart. Bail smiled. At least he didn’t have to worry about a broken heart. He had met and married the love of his life, after all. And together they were raising the other love of his life, Leia.

Sometimes the things worth saving required one to fight for them.

Wanting a change of scenery and always happy for a chance to spend time with his daughter, Bail decided he could use a break. He stood, stretched, and went to find the source of the music. He found Leia in the sunroom, where the rain was steady against the glass roof but not so loud that the music didn’t fill the space. Leia was watching a concert on her holopad. Bail could see a woman in a glittering green-scaled bodysuit with fabric that stretched from wrist to hip like wings. Her makeup was dramatic, almost reptilian, and her long black hair whipped around her shoulders as she danced across an elaborate stage. Lights flashed in a visual cacophony as thousands of fans screamed the lyrics to her song.

Bail paused in the doorway, content to watch for a moment. Leia was thirteen now. When had she gotten so big? It felt like only yesterday she had been a baby in his arms, the most precious gift he’d ever received . . . and the greatest responsibility. His heart felt like it might burst from how proud he was of the young woman she was becoming, but he also felt a pang of sadness that soon she wouldn’t need him anymore. But that was the goal, wasn’t it? To raise your child and then let them go, hoping you’d shaped them into a competent adult . . . and that you were leaving them a world worth living in. That last part was what kept him fighting, renewed his energy, and banished doubt. Leia was the future, and he would do everything he could to ensure she flourished.

“I’m trying, Leia,” he murmured to himself.

“Trying what?” she asked, looking up from the holopad. Of course she had heard him. She rarely missed anything.

“Trying not to become an old man too soon.” He smiled and joined her on the chaise. “What are you watching?”

“Her name is Quanaliko,” Leia said, moving the holopad so he could get a better view. “She’s a very popular singer, and my friends recom­mended her. But . . .”

“Yes?”

“All she sings about is boys.” Leia’s expression grew serious. “I mean, her music is nice, but aren’t there are much more important things to sing about in the galaxy?”

Bail laughed. “I thought all teenagers were interested in boys. Or girls. Or . . .” He waved his hand. “True love.”

Leia’s mouth turned down. “Well, it’s not that I’m not interested. It’s just that I’m not sure it deserves this many songs.”

“Oh, I don’t know.”

Leia turned her focus toward Bail, a silent request for him to elabo­rate. Bail lived for these moments, the times when Leia still appreciated his advice and insight. The heavens knew fewer and fewer people ap­preciated his opinion these days, at least in the Senate. He crossed his legs at the knee, his fingers laced against this thigh.

“Almost everyone has had a broken heart at some time in their lives. Or had friends who hurt them.” He certainly had. “Quanaliko’s music is relatable.”

Leia’s expression clouded the way it did when she was thinking hard.

“And that’s important? I mean, to let people know that you understand their problems?”

“That is, in a sense, what all good art does. It captures the condition of living. A great artist is able to do that in a way that speaks for thou­sands, perhaps millions of people who experience the same things but can’t articulate their troubles.”

“So Quanaliko is articulating what it means to be alive? The common experiences we all share?”

“Exactly.” He smiled, pleased at how quickly she’d understood what he was trying to tell her. “Makes you feel not so alone, right?”

“It’s not that different from what you do,” Leia said thoughtfully.

Bail laughed. “I’m nothing like a popular singer.”

“But you are.” Leia sat up a little straighter. “As a senator, it’s your job to give a voice to the citizens of Alderaan. Those who might not have a voice otherwise. Or simply don’t know how to say the things that need to be said to the people who need to hear them. Being a senator is a duty, but it’s also a talent.”

“That is, in a sense, what all good art does. It captures the condition of living. A great artist is able to do that in a way that speaks for thou­sands, perhaps millions of people who experience the same things but can’t articulate their troubles.”

Bail’s chest swelled with pride. He knew every father must feel this way about their children, but his daughter was truly special. “I never thought of it in quite that way, Leia, but yes. I see the similarities.”

She beamed, but then her smile faltered.

“What is it?” Bail asked, concerned.

Leia took a steadying breath. “I’ve been thinking of joining the Ap­prentice Legislature. I know I’m still too young, but in only a few more years, I won’t be. I . . . I think I might have a gift, too. Not singing.” She flushed. “But speaking for people who can’t speak for themselves.”

Ah, so that was what was on her mind. And she was probably wor­ried that he wouldn’t approve, or that he didn’t want her to put herself out there in the public eye. It would’ve been a lie to say it didn’t give him pause. Politics would inevitably bring her closer to Palpatine’s cir­cle, and that worried him. But at the same time, he wouldn’t allow his anxieties, justifiable as they were, to hold Leia back. Not when he could see how strong she was and how much good she could do. And how much the galaxy was going to need someone like her.

“I think you do have a gift, Leia,” he said, his voice serious, “and I think you should use it. You will have my support if you decide politics is something you wish to pursue.” He and Breha had discussed Leia’s future at length, and they agreed that politics would likely be part of it. Though the question of when, they had to this point left unanswered.

“You’re not worried? About . . . ?” Leia pressed her hand over his. They didn’t really talk that much about her kidnapping, but it was al­ways there, a weight across his shoulders. He knew that it had been his fault, that his politics and his connection to the Jedi had made Leia a target before. “I’m all right, you know,” she said. “You and Mother can stop worrying about me.”

“I’ll tell you a secret.” Bail briefly wrapped his other hand over hers. “We will never stop worrying about you. That’s our talent, what parents do.” That, and swear a vow to protect their children at all costs. Although he wondered if that was a promise he would be able to keep. It felt like the galaxy was becoming a more dangerous place every day. If he could’ve cocooned Leia in durasteel and hidden her away from danger, he would’ve. But he couldn’t. He had to allow her to find her own path. Even if it led her into more danger, not less. Because this he knew for sure: His beautiful, brilliant daughter was no coward. He just wished she didn’t have to live in a time that required so much bravery.

Reprinted from Star Wars: Edge of the Abyss (Reign of the Empire) by Rebecca Roanhorse. © 2026 by Lucasfilm Ltd. Published by Random House Worlds, an imprint of Random House, a division of Penguin Random House LLC.