Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Summary: Threepio relays a request by a mysterious informant to meet the newly elected Senator Leia Organa.

“Not much farther now, Princess!” The gold protocol droid fussed as he tottered down the plush Senate hallway.

Behind him, the Royal Princess of Alderaan, Senator of the Galactic Empire, followed at a stately pace. Her flowing white gown was a simple piece that lacked the complex flourishes common to most Senators. As the youngest serving Senator in centuries, she used her fame to subtly protest the extravagances of her older peers through her choice in attire. It had earned her few friends these past months.

Being a Senator was not at all what she’d imagined. When she wasn’t sitting through frustratingly dreary senate sessions, she was arranging meetings and dinners with various colleagues from committees; all in the name of getting a feel for their opinions on the current state of the Empire and its policies.  It was too soon for any of the more well-known Senators like Mon Mothma to officially take her under their wing but overtures were starting to be made as she proved herself. It was all so frustratingly slow.

It certainly didn’t help that the media kept referring to her as a ‘princess playing dress-up’. Why they focused on such frivolous things like what she wore and who she was last seen with – ‘Is this the Future Prince of Alderaan?’ – was beyond her understanding. There were serious problems in the Empire and injustices rampant in the outer-rim that were far more important.

Ahead of her, the droid paused at a blank wall between two large paintings of former famous senators. With an almost silent click, the wooden panel opened to reveal a hidden turbo-lift. Her eyebrows rose in surprise at the luck of having the lift there when they arrived, while internally she scoffed at the purposeful camouflage. While she’d never seen a turbo-lift intentionally hidden before, it fit with the eccentricities and paranoia of the longer serving senators. Usually the hidden panels only contained alcohol or important documents.

Her new protocol droid, C-3P0, entered the lift.

He had been a gift from her father when she was elected Senator for Alderaan and she was still getting used to his quirks. He was surprisingly knowledgeable about the Senate even if he professed to have never served a Senator before.

Leia Organa moved to follow him but stopped at the threshold. The lift was a striking contrast to the extravagant hallway he had been leading her down. Drab grey walls, a floor scuffed by the tread of many droids, and barely enough room for the two of them.

“Is everything alright, Princess?” C-3P0 asked.

Leia glanced around and it struck her just how empty the hallway had become. She did not remember encountering anyone for the last few passageways Threepio had turned down. There was always someone: a droid, an aid or a junior legislator rushing from office to office. A slight feeling of apprehension awakened in her as she returned her attention to the lift and the waiting Threepio.

“I assure you, Princess, while this lift may lack the usual ornamentation, it is fully functional.” He backed himself against the side to give her as much room as he could.

She hesitated for a moment more before shaking off the absurd feeling. This was C-3P0, he had been a loyal servant of the Antilles and Organa families for as long as she could remember. It was ridiculous to think that he would be leading her astray. He’d been unable to tell her any details on who she was meeting but she’d gotten the impression that it was someone with information vital to the Alliance. The thrill she’d felt at finally being in a position to help others, to be a part of her Father’s organization had led her to jump at the opportunity.

Leia joined him in the cramped lift, the door practically closing on her heel as she entered. She shot Threepio a quick look in consternation but he was busy fussing with the controls. She decided not to reprimand him. As a service lift, it was designed for the quick, efficient movement of beings. Not to prevent her from changing her mind and leaving.

The lift began its decent with a lurch and began picking up speed. Leia crossed her arms to ward off a sudden chill, the temperature controls in the lift obviously not set for human comfort.

Threepio began to apologize for the temperature which quickly transitioned into chatter about the many uses of the lift. Leia let the words wash over her as she tried to steady her nerves. The closer she came to meeting the mysterious informer the stronger the feeling of unease became. She did her best to bury it, convinced that it was simply due this being her first time being alone in a situation like this. If the meeting went sideways a small holdout blaster, well hidden in the flow of her dress on her upper arm, would quickly disprove any assumption of her being a helpless princess.

On her next exhale she realized she could see her breath, a slight cloud forming in front of her face. She looked to the control panel and saw they were still descending at an alarming rate, deeper than she had ever been before.

“Oh my!” Threepio exclaimed, “I’m terribly sorry, Princess. I did not realize it would be this cold. Oh, I should have known I’d be no good at this.”

“It’s alright Threepio,” she hastily assured him. If there was one thing she’d learned fast about him, it was his tendency to go on bleak rants about his own perceived failures and inadequacies. For her own sanity, she’d taken to reassuring him whenever she could.

“Oh, you are too kind Mistress.”

Leia stumbled and braced herself against the wall as the lift abruptly decelerated. Threepio appeared to barely feel it. She assumed that this proved that the lift was meant for droids, not Senators. Not that any Senator she’d met would even consider getting into something like this, believing it beneath them.

The lift doors opened to a maintenance room empty of its inhabitants. The chill in the air continued, with each exhale resulting in a small visible puff. Dread assaulted her yet again and she hesitated on the threshold. The room had the appearance of being hastily exited, droid parts and repair equipment scattered at various desks. The lighting was fragmented, and shone directly on each workstation, causing the edges of the room to fall in deep shadow. Not all of the stations were lit which made for a very half hazard lighting of the room.

“How macabre,” Threepio commented.

She’d never thought about it, but supposed seeing so many body parts of different droids would be disturbing to a droid like Threepio. “Shall we, Princess?” he crowded behind her.

She pushed herself forward, his usually comforting and familiar frame suddenly not so. She had a brief flash of Threepio dragging her into the room whether she wanted to or not. Her steps picked up slightly as she dismissed the idea from her mind.

As soon as Threepio exited the lift the doors closed with a very final hiss and click.

Her heart beat double time as she scanned the room. She crossed her arms once again to both ward off the chill and to finger the hidden blaster up her sleeve. She was starting to have a very bad feeling about this.

As she scanned the room, Threepio came up beside her. “Hm, they appear to be late. I’m terribly sorry Princess. The nerve! Making a Senator of the Empire …” Threepio’s voice nattered on.

The spotty lighting allowed for many hiding spots for the informer, and she admired their caution. They had a clear view of her and could study her, while she could see nothing at all. And she was certain that the person she was supposed to meet was here, whatever Threepio said. She could practically feel the eyes on her, assessing. Her grip on the blaster tightened.

She narrowed her eyes and frowned, trying to determine the source of the feeling. It was something her combat instructor had always praised her on, her ability to know when someone was watching her and readying an ambush. This wasn’t quite the same, she didn’t get the feeling of an impending attack, but it was definitely evaluating her.

Just as her eyes started to hover at a point midway into the room at a darkened station, a voice rumbled, “Greetings, Senator Organa of Alderaan.”

She startled slightly at the voice, dark and rich, that reverberated through the empty room. It sounded obviously male but they were using a vocoder to disguise their voice, making it difficult to tell their species or sex. Somehow, she had a feeling that it was no coincidence the being spoke just as she began to focus on the darkened space.

Threepio took a half step forward and answered, “Greetings, I am C-3P0, human-cyborg relations. Princess, may I introduce you to our contact.” He turned as if suddenly remembering something and apologized, “Oh dear, I’m afraid they never gave a name.”

Leia nodded in acknowledgment, satisfied that at least Threepio recognized the informant.  “It is a pleasure, I hope we both find this meeting to be satisfactory,” she said while attempting to discern their shape in the deep shadow.

“Of that, I have no doubt.” They answered confidently.

It was difficult to discern any emotion in the voice and perhaps it was this, combined with her nervous dread that had failed to dissipate, in addition to the uncomfortable cold, that caused her to bluntly state, “Threepio informs me that you have highly sensitive information vital to our cause.”

There was a weighted pause before a reply. “Dispensing with the pleasantries, already?” She flushed faintly at the slight amusement she assumed was there, even if it wasn’t in their voice. She drew in a sharp breath to retort, if they make some comment about her age or ability --  They continued, “I approve.” -- And let it out in a rush of surprise.

She nodded tightly and gripped her elbow and the blaster trying to cover her embarrassment and suppress a shiver.

The being apparently noticed, despite her attempts to hide how uncomfortable she was, “My apologies for meeting you here. To minimize suspicion it was necessary.”

Leia nodded seriously and with a quick glance around the room, the pieces slotted into place, “And if anyone wonders why I came here, maintenance for Threepio is the perfect cover, that’s why you sent your message through him.” And how they’d given the message to Threepio in the first place, they must be a mechanic or work closely with the droids here.

She had the oddest feeling that her contact was suddenly incredibly pleased. “Correct, Your Highness.” And, although her feelings of dread hadn’t left, she could swear that the room almost felt slightly warmer for a moment.

What she didn’t voice was the fear that came with an additional realization; the lack of surveillance in the droid service areas would make it difficult to find her if she never returned to the Senate floor.

She tried to shake off the cloying fear and bring the conversation back to her original statement, “I understand the necessity. Now, do you have a data card or message I can deliver? I cannot be down here long.”

Her eyes were beginning to adjust to the room’s spotty lighting as she continued to stare at the location the voice was coming from. To her slight confusion, she could just about make out a few lights, glowing faintly, just below her eye level.

“I believe there has been a slight misunderstanding.” Her breath caught, unease rising. “I have nothing for your…” The dark shape paused and continued with an unmistakeable sneer, “…cause.”  They paused again and rumbled darkly in a voice that reverberated through her, caressed her, “You are all that interests me.”

Leia narrowed her eyes and fingered the safety on her blaster, “Me?”

Was this a trap?

With more confidence than she felt, she continued, “what do you want?” Why would anyone be solely interested in her? Unless… they planned to use her to find other members of the Alliance. She took a quick step back, intent on escaping into the lifts, if possible.

“The lift is locked.” The being quickly interpreted her movements.

She glanced at Threepio, suddenly struck by his uncharacteristic silence this whole time, “Is there a problem, Princess?” he put a hand on her shoulder as if to steady her, “there’s no need to worry, our contact is trustworthy and means no harm, believe me.”

A feeling of helplessness reared up, panic threatening but she pushed it down. There would be no help from him, she could tell.

She took deep, measured breaths, fighting the surge in adrenaline. Her combat training helping her calm the sudden fight-or-flight response and keeping her mind on task.

She ripped her eyes back to the shadows the being was hiding in, “How dare you. Show yourself!” She commanded, hoping they’d reveal themselves and give her something to shoot at. Until then, there was no point in revealing her blaster and wasting her (likely only) shot.

“Oh dear.” Threepio worried, “please excuse her, it’s been a ver-“ he tried to diffuse the tension but was interrupted by the mysterious contact.

“All I want,” they replied to her earlier demand, “is to exchange information-”

“I’ll never-“ she cried, indignant that they believed she’d betray the Alliance so easily.

“-about you.” They finished with authority over her protest.

“W-What?” She stuttered, off balance. “What could you possibly know that I don’t?”

“Answer my questions,” they spoke in a softened, persuasive tone, “and you will see.” A part of her doubted that but another was hopeful that their continued lack of hostility, and insistence on only wanting information, would hold true. Regardless, their tactics left something to be desired. She had no intention of revealing information about herself to this stranger.

“You do not know what happened to your parents.” The dark shape stated, the slight movements of the lights coming more and more into focus.

She stared at him, completely thrown by their non-sequitur. Her shock quickly wore off, however, and she replied hotly, “How did you know I’m adopted?” Trying to cover how unnerved she was by the question.

“So,” they said in a pleased rumble, “it is true.”

She blinked, shocked that they had tricked her into revealing something so easily. You fool! She cursed herself. She should have assumed they were talking about her living Father, not her birth parents. She wasn’t even sure why she made that assumption in the first place.

“What of it?” She snapped in annoyance. “If you think you can blackmail me-“

“Do you remember your mother?” They interrupted her. “Your real mother.”

Leia sucked in a sharp breath and smoothed out her expression, attempting to reveal nothing to this being.

The darkness of the room began to press down on her, the room appearing to shrink. She pursed her lips and refused to answer, to unknowingly give anything away if she could help it. Her birth parent’s names were taboo, her queries always met with a, “Not yet, Leia,” or a, “It’s not safe, Leia.” 

“Adopted at the formation of the Empire,” they coaxed, the darkness gaining heaviness, demanding she answer. And then, almost as if they’d known her thoughts, “A child with parents too dangerous to name,” the voice, a dark velvet, seemed to surround her. Hidden beneath it, a durasteel grip she couldn’t escape.

She could only stare at the dark form before her, vision tunneling. A shape was starting to become visible to her in the shadows; the outline of a larger shadow that swallowed the light.

Leia felt as if some great pressure was weighing down on her, making her thoughts sluggish, focus somehow difficult. She tried to keep her mind clear, as she had been taught, but a stray one drifted to the surface, carried by an unbidden force.

She may no longer remember her mother’s name, but she remembered her face: a kiss on the forehead, a loving and beautiful smile, kind but sad.

Suddenly, the pressure was gone, her ability to focus returned. Across the room multiple light fixtures exploded in a crash, throwing more of the room into darkness. The remaining ones swayed, as if caught in an unknown breeze. The droid parts began rattling off the work stations, falling to the floor with a screech of metal.

The air was permeated with anger and hatred so thick that she began to shake with it as well.

One of the lights swung towards her interrogator’s location.

“My word!” Threepio exclaimed.

Leia let out a cry of disbelief as the dark outline revealed a black cape, black body armour, and a control panel.

“L-Lord Vader!”

Kssshhhhh, the sound of his breather, somehow silenced until now, was thunderous even over the screech of tortured metal. How had she not recognized his voice!? It had obviously been modified to an extent, but still!

His identity revealed; Lord Vader stepped forward to the edge of the light. He bled seamlessly into the darkness behind him, the lights on his chest, the lights she’d found so incongruous, blinking innocently. As if they hadn’t been an early warning that she’d missed. Both of his hands were clenched into fists at his sides.

As suddenly as it had begun, the rattling throughout the room stopped, lights swaying gently in the aftermath.

Leia realized with horror that while she may not have explicitly stated her affiliation with the Alliance, he obviously had known and set her up. But how? Did he kill the mechanic and take their place in order to find out who the traitor in the Senate was? But from what she’d understood, the Emperor didn’t consider the Alliance a credible threat yet; convinced that some new military venture would keep the Empire safe.

With no other option for escape that she could see, in one quick motion, Leia ripped the blaster from its holster. She felt a brief flare of victory at Vader’s twitch in surprise as it was revealed from her sleeve. But before she could bring it up and take aim, her wrist was caught in a vise-like grip.

Leia turned, shocked and cried, “Threepio!?”

“I’m sorry, Princess, but I will not allow you to harm the maker.” She stared at him in blank shock, her grip on the blaster loosening.

“You knew.” She accused softly, “You purposefully led me to him.” The metal hand on her shoulder no longer a reassuring weight but an immobile grip - restraining her.

“Of course,” Threepio agreed, as if he hadn’t just revealed something completely devastating, “There really is no need to worry, Princess.”

“No need to-“ indignant, she cut off as the blaster was suddenly ripped from her grip. Her mouth hung open in shock as she watched it sail into Vader’s waiting hand.

She felt a wave of light-headedness assault her, a foreign feeling of triumph reared up as he intoned, “Your real name is Leia Skywalker. And you will be coming with me.”

Chapter Text

Senator Leia Organa of Alderaan marched, head unbowed, out the charred entrance hatch to the Tantive IV. She paused momentarily at the threshold and breathed the crisp recirculated air of the Stardestroyer, a welcome change from the scorched interior of her ship. The nauseating stench of discharged blaster fire, charred flesh, melted plasteel and excrement had been nauseating. It had taken all of her strength to ignore the fallen soldiers that littered the corridors as she was brought before the Imperial in charge.

It appeared most of the crew had been killed.

A part of her had not been surprised to see the Imperial in question was Lord Vader, conferring with his officers. The attack that came without even a token offer of surrender had caught the whole bridge by surprise; secure in the belief that they had escaped the Empire’s notice.

Speaking with Lord Vader, and not staring at the dead Alliance officers spread behind him, victims of his brand of interrogation, had been extremely difficult; A fate that could have been hers, if she wasn’t a member of the Senate.

The only way she was keeping her sanity, and not letting fear overwhelm her, was in the confidence that they hadn’t yet found the plans she’d hidden. And if they couldn’t find the plans, then they just attacked a consular ship with no provocation. They didn’t have a legal reason to keep her detained.

A small part of her was hopeful she’d be let go, if no evidence was found, a paltry cover story their only excuse for killing all aboard. Such blatantly false cover-ups only aided the Alliance in the long run, as people leaked the truth and exposed the hypocrisies of the Empire.

It was a small, faint hope. This was Death Squadron, Lord Vader’s personal command; there would be no leaks from this ship.

“Get moving,” a disdainful voice, one of her stormtrooper guards, ordered while nudging her sharply with his blaster. She grimaced and stumbled but managed to catch herself. As she was marched down the boarding ramp, she heard his hated voice echo out of the ship.

“Send a distress signal and then inform the senate that all aboard were killed!”

She clenched her fists. That the Empire even pretended the law was absolute and applied to all equally, was a joke. Especially when someone like Lord Vader could just do as he pleased.

Her escort of stormtroopers led her through the cavernous hanger. On the periphery, maintenance crews were working on various Tie Fighter models while a few shuttles were undergoing pre-flight checks.

As she looked around, she noticed that she couldn’t see any other prisoners being taken off of the Tantive IV. Had they really killed all aboard except her? Not that they’d be able to tell the Empire much, as most of the crew had been Alderaani soldiers, unfamiliar with the current Alliance Base, but the Empire didn’t know that. Somehow, had Lord Vader known that she was the only one worth taking alive?

The troopers marched her towards a corridor, heading deep into the belly of the ship. The walls were the typical featureless grey. A small mouse droid rolled past, the only distraction from her swirling thoughts on the long march.

In what felt like no time at all they reached the detention center, all hard black lines and backlit by a faint ominous red, and shoved her in.

Leia landed on her knees with a grunt, the door closing and locking with a sharp hiss. Looking around the tiny holding cell the reality that she was soon to be presumed dead by the rest of the Senate hit her. They wouldn’t dare to treat with such disrespect otherwise. The tiny cell was a simple square with a drain in the corner. It didn’t even have the semblance of a bed. If the other Senators knew this could also be their fate…

She chose the cleanest looking corner and sat down, knees against her chest and closed her eyes. If she was presumed dead, then they could do anything they wanted, there was no law protecting the ‘dead’ from interrogation. She took a shaky breath and swallowed down the fear that threatened. If she was lucky, and she could convince them she didn’t know much of value, they’d simply execute her.

I’m sorry Papa, she thought, tears threatening, I failed you.

She shook her head and scrunched her eyes, forcing the tears back. No. She couldn’t break down yet. There was still a long fight ahead of her and she would need all of her strength. She brought her knees down and entered a meditative pose.

She had been coached on how to resist interrogation, all high level members of the Alliance were, but Vader was in a league of his own. She’d heard horror stories of his tactics but had never seriously believed she’d ever be in this position. And she knew it would be Vader interrogating her, he was obviously personally leading the search for the Death Star plans.

Her only hope lay in her message being received, and that the droids were never found.

She did her best to clear her mind; going through the familiar exercises she’d been taught. Any moment now, Lord Vader could walk into her cell.

An unknown amount of time passed.

…

The wait in the holding cell slowly became excruciating.

That they hadn’t taken her to an interrogation room yet must’ve meant they were still looking for the plans. She had hoped that if the Empire didn’t find any evidence on the Tantive IV they’d think they had the wrong ship. But with Vader’s legendary ability to follow leads, he must have figured out she put them in the escape pod. Nothing else made sense.

She had no sense of how long she’d been in here. They were barely feeding her, and when they did it was in irregular intervals, making it hard to measure time.

Calm was becoming more difficult to maintain, she wished they would just hurry up and get it over with. Vader’s continued absence was both bolstering her hope and wracking her nerves, making the wait intolerable.

…

The transfer to the Death Star hammered home just how massive the battle station was. That a Stardestroyer could sit comfortably in a hangar, and in what looked like one of many, was staggering. Never mind the rumoured firepower it contained, there had to be enough stormtroopers and equipment to invade a whole planet!

Now more than ever, she was resolved. If Vader hoped to break her spirit in a show of the Empire’s might he was sadly mistaken!

There was one other fact she noticed on the long march. No other prisoners were transferred, she was truly alone.

…

Princess Leia Organa, officially ‘deceased’ Senator, sat stoically on what passed for a bench in her cold little cell. The interrogation ward was kept at a low temperature; she’d spent the last few hours on the edge of shivering. She clenched and unclenched her hands, waiting. Within her, she focused her mind on nothing, repeating over and over who she was and what her mission had been. She was a member of the Galactic Senate on a diplomatic mission from Alderaan.

Soon, she somehow knew, soon Darth Vader would come interrogate her. The waiting was over.

She started slightly as the entrance to her cell opened with an ominous hiss. She forced her hands to unclench and stared defiantly as Darth Vader, torture droid in tow, entered her cell. Two stormtroopers took up position on either side of the entrance.

“Now Your Highness, we will discuss the location of your hidden Rebel base.” He threatened, door closing and sealing her in with him.

Fear began to rise, her earlier determination beginning to crumble, as reality once again asserted itself. The torture droid gave off a steady beeping-whirring sound, hypodermic needle at the ready.

Already, she could feel the darkness of the room closing in on her, the lack of space to move suffocating. Lord Vader stood there, hands on his belt, observing her. She jutted her chin up and tried to return the stare as defiantly as she could manage, blinking rapidly to clear the intruding darkness from her vision.

His black helmet tilted, as if considering something, and then ordered, “Proceed,” waving the droid forward.

She did her best not to move as the droid floated uncomfortably close, unable to stop herself from leaning back slightly. A hatch opened and a claw, quick as a snake, shot out and latched onto her arm. She was unable to tear her eyes away as the hypodermic needle extended towards her.

She didn’t know what was in it, but she desperately didn’t want to find out. In her peripheral vision, she noticed her hands were beginning to shake, betraying her fear.

There was a sharp prick of pain. She steeled herself for what was to come: pain, numb uncaring, a talkative high, all were potential outcomes of the drug.

A wave of dizziness assaulted her; her vision and focus beginning to blur. Her awareness of the whirring torture droid receded. The dark shape of Lord Vader moved towards her, arm extended. She swayed, no longer able to hold herself up. A black gloved hand, stark against the white of her shoulder, eased her down.

The haziness stayed with her when her head hit an unforgiving surface. Darkness overcame her vision.

In the distance, she could hear someone begin to shriek. Under that high pitched sound, the loud, unvarying sound of Vader’s breathing, regular as a metronome.

The moment seemed to stretch forever, the scream unending. She could barely focus on who she was, where she was, anymore. A voice broke through the noise: demanding, coaxing, and ordering.

What is the location of your Base?

The sound reverberated through her, overwhelming all other thought. She tried to shy away from it, knowing she couldn’t obey. But everywhere she turned; there it was, demanding an answer.

What is the location of your Base?

The more she tried to run, the more hurtful and insistent it became, flashes of pain, of her own agonized screams, assaulted her. She knew it was imperative she didn’t answer, but the drug made it difficult to remember why. She wanted the voice to stop hounding her, for the pain to stop.

Eventually, unable to stand anymore, she tried to give it an answer, anything to make it go away.

It’s on Coruscant, she thought, only to be viciously swatted down.

The Base, give it to me. Impatience began to rise in the dark voice, their annoyance at not receiving an answer immediately plain. A kind of pressure kept increasing, driving her to towards the truth.

Getting desperate, she pictured the next place that came to mind, not letting herself think of the true meaning of the demands; the Royal Palace on Alderaan, resplendent on a sunny day, a safe base to always come home to.

She whimpered as the image was shredded, pressure and panic building in her mind as the voice growled, Your Base!

Perhaps it was the emphasis on ‘your’, or it could have been the genuinely terrifying, deep voice, hemming her in, or the desire to get away from the pain, to hide in a place no one could find her, but a memory bubbled up. It was a strong memory, one from happier times.

Back when she still had a mother.

---

“Leia! Where are you little one?” A melodic female voice called. Leia crossed her arms and frowned down at her crossed legs.

She was in her secret place, a dry alcove beneath the roots of a great tree on the edge of the palace gardens, grown wild. She was sitting on a blanket she’d smuggled in, along with some of her favorite, forbidden, toys. In her clenched fists was a makeshift wooden sword, the reason she was hiding.

She’d been watching the palace guard training, copying their movements with her sword. She’d skipped her etiquette lesson -because what was the point of such boring classes! - when she’d caught sight of her adopted father, an angry frown on his face, looking for her. He spotted her before she could find something to hide behind. He’d shouted at her and, knowing she was in deep trouble, she’d run to her safe place, her secret base, to hide the sword.

“There you are, Leia.” A relieved voice said, parting the curtain of vines to reveal her mother’s concerned face, kneeling in the dirt.

She looked tired and worn, as she often did these days, and when her eyes landed on the sword clutched in Leia’s small hands, her face morphed into complete sorrow.

Tears sprang to Leia’s eyes and she cried, “Mama—

---

No .

The dark, angry voice was back, breaking her out of the treasured memory.

That’s… that’s impossible.

The pain-pressure on her mind receded, and with it some of the hazy, drugged confusion that had clouded her mind.

She was in an interrogation room, with Darth Vader, he was the voice, and he’d just reacted to the memory of her mother… her secret mother!

Alarm shot through her, impossible to hide from him.

Who was that! He demanded, and she heard a distant shriek again. If it was something he wanted, she refused to give it to him!

A black rage brought darkness to her mind once again, smothering her. It was difficult to breathe. The image of her mother, in that moment, rose up once more, unbidden.

A screeching crash, a harsh mechanical squeal, broke through the darkness.

Then silence.

The voice, and the associated dark pressure, was gone. She could breathe again. She took a moment to sigh, grateful for the relief. But the danger had not yet passed, as badly as she wanted to believe it had. The desire to know what was happening gave her a small boost of energy.

Grimacing, Leia slowly opened her eyes, her whole body sore and sensitive to the slightest movement. Groggily, she frowned at two white shapes collapsed on the ground. Next to them, in multiple pieces, lay the shattered remains of a droid. Exhaustion weighing her down, at first she didn’t register the dark shape, clenched fists shaking.

She squinted up at Vader, not understanding what she was seeing.

In a blink, what seemed from one moment to the next, he was kneeling before her –too close! - and she flinched violently away, whimpering at the pain that shot through her.

He reached out a hand, almost (she swore her mind was playing tricks on her) hesitantly. She stared at it fear, waiting for the pain to start again, for the darkness to descend, for the voice to chase her through her memories, when it clenched into a fist, and disappeared from view.

He said something, but her ears were full of cotton, and all she could make out was a deep rumble that vibrated in her chest. She blinked, mind starting to go fuzzy once more.

He stood and turned, as if to leave, but paused at the collapsed white shapes.

Stormtroopers? She frowned down at the white forms, trying to force her brain to make sense of what she was seeing.

She started and curled into herself as something warm was suddenly laid down over top of her, black gloves far too close. As the black shape, Vader her mind tried to insist, pulled away her eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the scratchy blanket. However, the warmth was welcome in the cold cell, and helped tight muscles begin to relax.

Just as her eyes were falling shut, exhaustion weighing them down, she heard Darth Vader’s deep baritone hiss.

“They will pay dearly for this.”

Chapter Text

You may think Princess Leia should slip away, and save Luke below Cloud City.

Darth Vader rejected, his son led astray; the trap met with adversity.

But there’s no happy ending , not here and not now, this tale is all sorrows and woes.

You may dream that justice and peace win the day, but that’s not how the story goes.

-Lyrics adapted from: That's Not How The Story Goes

Leia, heart in her throat, watched helplessly as a huge metal tong descended into the circular vat. It lifted the steaming block of carbonite, Han frozen in a scream. Her eyes were fixed on it, unable to tear herself away, not until she knew. Not until there was some sign he survived.

Around the platform, Imperials watched the process, uncaring of the result. Only the bounty hunter, Boba Fett, shared her and Chewie’s desire for Han to live. But that was a cold comfort. Over the hiss of steam and whine of hydraulics the regular inhale and exhale of Darth Vader’s respirator, black form almost lost in the gloom, punctuated the sharp staccato of her heartbeat.

Multiple Ugnaughts rushed forward and pushed the block away from the large vat and towards the platform. They slid the coffin-like structure onto a hover-lift and attached an electronic control box. Task completed, they scuttled away. The so called ‘friend’ Lando Calrissian stepped forward and adjusted some knobs, examining the life signs.

She held her breath, waiting for the verdict, hope dangling by a thread. His arms snugly around her, she felt Chewie do the same.

Calrissian shook his head, and for a brief moment panic and heartache tore through her. A part of her reached for Han, desperate to sense the connection she’d begun to let herself feel for him. Not believing that he could be dead.

Unbeknownst to her, Darth Vader’s eyes jerked in her direction.

“Well, Calrissian, did he survive?” Vader’s deep, cold voice penetrated her panic.

Is he alive? He must be. Please let him survive! She prayed to whoever was listening.

“Yes, he’s alive,” Calrissian answered in clear relief, “And in perfect hibernation.”

Leia and Chewie both let out their breath in shared solace. Weak in the knees, she was more grateful than ever for Chewie’s support. Without him, there was no telling how she would be handling this moment.  Together, they would be trapped on this floating prison with Calrissian. Together, they would plan and organize their escape.

“He’s all yours bounty hunter.” Vader addressed Boba Fett, uncaring now that the experiment was a success.

Together, they would save Han.

Darth Vader turned and ordered, “Reset the chamber for Skywalker.”

Leia finally ripped her eyes away from Han to stare at Vader. She had forgotten, almost, that everything they had gone through on this wretched city was to entrap Luke. Would he really be so fool headed as to mount a rescue? She instantly dismissed the silly question. Of course he would. The real question was how would he even know to come? Vader was so sure that he would. And if he was ordering the chamber to be reset, did that mean…?

An Imperial officer approached and reported, “Skywalker has just landed, My Lord.”

No…Luke!

She steeled herself, pushing down the grief over Han as she had once done over the destruction of Alderaan. Later, she would allow herself to feel. Now was not the time for tears. She wrapped her anger around herself like a cloak of armour. If Luke was here her future was clear. Her focus had to be escape. Han was alive and Boba Fett would ensure it stayed that way, for now. But Luke…Luke needed her help.

Their stormtrooper guards began herding them towards the entrance to the factory, Chewie unwinding his arms from her. She gave him a determined look, hoping to convey to him that they needed to escape, and soon.

As they were pushed forward, Leia strained her ears to hear Vader’s response.

“Good. See to it that he finds his way here.” She managed to catch over the loud whirring of the carbonation chamber resetting.

She had to warn Luke. He was walking right into Vader’s trap. Somehow! Calrissian would transfer them back to their ‘room’, there had to be a way to overpower the guards. All they needed was a chance.

The plans beginning to whirl in her mind came to a screeching halt at Vader’s next order.

“Calrissian, take the Princess and the Wookiee to my ship.”

Indignation and fear shot through her, and for once she seemed to agree with Calrissian, given his outraged reply.

“You said they’d be left in the city under my supervision.”

Darth Vader turned to threaten Calrissian.

“I am altering the deal. Pray I don’t alter it any further.”

A spike of ice went down her back as she realized something deeply unsettling. Beyond briefly giving his attention to those he was giving orders to, Darth Vader had been watching her. It wasn’t until he’d had to turn more completely away from her to threaten Calrissian that she’d noticed the lack of… something hovering around her. But what could it mean? What more could he want from her?

Calrissian’s hand instinctively went to his throat. He grimaced, but joined them and the stormtrooper guard; escorting them to Darth Vader’s ship, of all places. She couldn’t help the sneer that formed on her face at Calrissian. So much for his assurance that Vader’s interest was solely focused on Luke.

As they were marched out of the room, now that she was aware of it, she felt Vader’s eyes on her once more, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up uncomfortably.

They were shepherded out of the factory; the crisp white halls a stark contrast to the dark, verging on pitch black carbonation chamber they had come from. It took her a moment to blink the spots from her eyes, momentarily blinded. Calrissian and the stormtroopers were joined by some of his men as they led them down the hall.

Ahead of her Chewie walked, Threepio hanging awkwardly from his back. At the front, she could see Calrissian urgently whispering to one of his men. She had a feeling he was up to something, but couldn’t bring herself to care, too focused on Luke and the danger he was walking into.

Luke was in the city now, according the Imperial Officer. That meant with every step they took away from the chamber, Luke took one towards them. There had to be some way she could warn him!

Ahead of them their escort paused, the sound of blaster fire echoing down the hall.

He’s here!

The stormtroopers around them picked up speed, shoving them first down one corridor then turning down another; obviously hoping to avoid the fire fight. Chewie and Leia dug their heels in as much as they could to slow them down.

As they neared the end of a hall, some instinct told her to turn around.

Her very being lit up at the sight of the unruly mop of blond hair, hope and fear warring within. “Luke! Luke, don’t –“ She dove towards him, desperate to reach him. A stormtrooper grabbed her roughly and pulled her away. “-it’s a trap!” She wrestled with the arms constraining her. She looked up just long enough to see Luke racing towards her and for one heart stopping second, their eyes met. 

The moment stretched, and in that instant, it seemed as if multiple futures played out before her. Different actions she could take from this point on, the possibilities too numerous for her to grasp; the very idea of what she was seeing too much to conceive. The stormtrooper jerked her back and through a door, breaking the moment.

Briefly, she managed to break free. She lunged back and gripped the edge of the door frame yelling, “It’s a trap!” before she was dragged through. The door sealed and locked her away from him.

In another time, in another place, that could have been the end of it. The last chance she had before his destined confrontation; before she was distracted by the chance to save Han. But in this moment in time, as she continued to struggle against the stormtrooper, an image stuck in her mind. Not of Luke frozen in carbonite, as she would’ve assumed, but of Luke trapped on the end of a gantry, Vader looming over him. Vader’s red lightsaber illuminated his terrified face, pain making him pale; and pressed protectively against his chest, the stump of his right hand.

Leia shook her head in denial; that would not happen. She refused to let that happen! Darth Vader would not take another of her loved ones from her. Not again!

Instinct screaming at her, she knew she only had one chance to make a difference, one chance before she lost him.

Leia went limp in the stormtrooper’s hold. Surprised, the trooper fumbled with her and was pulled off balance. An instant later, using her bent knees and lower center of gravity, Leia barreled into him and through a side door, seconds before it sealed shut, cutting them off from the others. Chewie’s cry of alarm cut short.

On the ground, they grappled for advantage, her cuffed hands making fighting difficult. Perhaps it was desperation, perhaps it was the heat of the moment, but she was able to leverage the blaster at just the right angle to get a fortunate shot off.

Leia lay there for a moment on top of the dead trooper, panting, thrilled at her victory.

Some would call the sequence of events luck. Some would say there’s no such thing as luck.

Hands still cuffed, she searched the trooper for the release key. When she didn’t find it, she let out a frustrated growl and grabbed the blaster. It was awkward, holding it like this would make aiming difficult, but she would make do.

There was no time to lose, she had to find Luke.

-----

In the dark factory chamber, Luke Skywalker cautiously, but resolutely, picked his way along. Steam and smoke curled around him, filling the darkened alcoves.

On a walkway above him, a menacing shape was outlined in the darkness. Undeterred, confidence flowing through him, Luke approached.

A deep baritone rumbled from the shadows, “The force is with you, young Skywalker. But you are not a Jedi yet.”

Luke’s only response was to ignite his lightsaber, blue blade cutting the gloom.

When he was almost level with him, Vader ignited his own blade, the red glow illuminating the ominous shadow that was the armoured giant.

-----

Leia cautiously stepped into the carbonation room, blaster at the ready.

She’d been forced to enter through a side door, after finding the main one sealed. Trapping Luke, she’d thought. Thankfully, she’d gotten lucky once again and on a whim had opened a door that led her to the Ugnaughts. It hadn’t taken much threatening to get them to lead her to a maintenance hatch.

She’d ended up near the very same spot she’d been standing only minutes earlier. When it had briefly felt like everything was crashing down around her. But now she had a goal and a blaster, she was no longer helpless. And she would save Luke!

Leia looked around, hoping for some sign that Luke had escaped the carbonation process. She approached the edge of the pit, nausea threatening over the memory of Han.

Of what she’d confessed, “I love you.”

And his response, “I know.”

…The arrogant nerf-herder. She thought, tears briefly threatening in pained fondness.

She tore her eyes from the pit, a fierce hissing drawing her attention. Looking up, she noticed one of the thick cables had been cut clean through and was now dangling limply, steam rapidly escaping. She let out a breath of relief; it looked like she wasn’t too late here, Luke was still free.

The room was eerily silent, beyond the hissing steam. She looked around the platform and frowned.

No sign of either Luke or Vader.

She wished she found it reassuring, but the image of Luke trapped on a gantry kept her searching for signs of them.

Below she heard a ringing crash, as if something had been knocked over. Leia rushed to the edge, blaster drawn. She peered down, and was just in time to see Luke go through a side hatch.

“Luke!” she cried, desperate to reach him. But once again, she was too far away.

Determined to get to him, she quickly searched the area for a way down. The edge of the platform was a sheer drop, with no ladder or stairs that she could see. Not even a hydraulic platform! She paced the edge, anxious to get down there, knowing she was running out of time. Then she spotted it. Off to the side, some cable had been piled up out of the way. Wrapping the blaster strap around her shoulder, she grabbed the end and began to unspool it over the edge. Using the controls for the carbonation process as an anchor she wrapped the cable multiple times around it, hoping it would remain in place.

She barely gave it a test to see if it would hold her weight before launching herself over the edge; urgency driving her actions. The cuffed hands made it difficult but not impossible to descend, her legs taking most of the weight.

She reached the bottom faster than was safe, landing with a hard, teeth rattling thud. Barely pausing long enough to get her bearings, stumbling in her haste, she grabbed the blaster and raced through the dark tunnel she’d seen Luke enter.

The passageway was littered with equipment. Pipes and control boxes scattered along the walls, making navigating quickly and quietly difficult. Frustration ate at her. She had to make it in time! She could feel it, some unnameable sense of hurry, hurry, hurry.

Then she saw it, the end of the tunnel opening into a large observation room. She slowed her pace to a crawl, cautiously approaching. The hum and crash of lightsabers echoed in the enclosed space.

Her heart leapt into her throat at the sight that greeted her. Luke and Darth Vader, lightsaber’s lit, facing one another. Vader’s back was to her, her view of Luke partially blocked by his black bulk. For a brief moment, neither of them moved, Luke’s panting breaths and the steady wheeze of Vader’s respirator the only sounds.

Vader’s lightsaber twitched.

She watched, wide eyed and shocked, as a piece of the wall came flying at Luke. He batted it away with his lightsaber, dodging another piece that quickly followed. In awe, she watched a pipe fly at him from behind, only for it to deflect off of him as if it had hit an invisible shield.

Her amazement was broken, however, when next a small tool rocketed at him, smacking him hard in the shoulder. Luke cried out in pain and stumbled.

Shaken, she tore her eyes to Vader’s unmoving back. The dark armoured shadow was just standing there, lightsaber pointed at Luke, as machinery and equipment began to fly at him in greater speeds.

Both distracted as they were, neither noticed her quietly taking aim.

She braced herself against the entrance, making herself as small a target as she could, grip tight on the blaster.

Luke, bruised and bleeding, backed up towards a large floor length circular window, Vader mirroring his steps. Partially hidden by the entrance, she waited for her moment.

Briefly, this reminded her of another time Vader’s back had been to her. A shot she could have taken, almost wished she had taken, long ago on Vrogas Vos. He had been in her sights then, she’d almost brought an end to his reign of terror. Only concern for Luke had stayed her hand. She’d abandoned her blinkered obsession with killing Vader in favor of saving Luke. Now… Luke’s life was on the line once again. And this time she’d take the shot.

Luke stumbled, knocked off balance, exhaustion weighing him down.

Sensing Vader’s distraction, she carefully aimed between his shoulders.

Another large chunk dislodged itself from the wall.

She fired.

The blaster shot rang out, Vader stumbled forward with a cry, wild triumph flared through her, and Luke turned terrified eyes onto her.

“Leia!” he cried.

Undeterred, she fired again, determined to take Vader out. Slightly hunched over, a black clad hand shot out, hand harmlessly deflecting the shot. She fired again as he straightened, determined to get at least another shot in. She knew she could hit him!  But again he blocked, back still mostly to her.

“Princess.” he growled, partially turning towards her. She felt her blaster give a sharp jerk, as if attempting to jump out of her hand - as Han’s had. She stopped firing and pinned it against the wall, holding on with all her strength. “You should have stayed with the Wookiee.”

“Leia,” Luke panted, pale in his shock, his bruises even more stark against his skin. “Get out of here! Run!”

“I’m not leaving without you.” She fiercely hissed back, eyes never leaving Vader, blaster still trembling in her grip.

Vader tilted his head, the lenses of his mask angled to meet her eyes. He seemed to regard her for one long moment; some dark cloud hovering over her determination, trying to break it down. Testing her. With a snarl she managed to fire one more bolt, shaking the feeling off. His red lightsaber rose to meet it, and some instinct just barely had her ducking back into the entrance in time to dodge. The bolt harmlessly splattered into the wall, exactly where she’d just been standing.

“Leave her alone!” She heard Luke cry, and peeked out in time to see Vader pivot and barely manage to deflect the blade.

“Yes,” she heard Vader goad, “release your anger.”

Luke didn’t reply, just snarled and went on the offensive.

Vader’s movements were stiff, his cloak charred and armour damaged. His shoulder guard had absorbed most of the blast, but she could see that she injured him.

The blaster steady in her hands once more, she took aim again, waiting for the right moment. She could feel that nameless ‘something’ hovering around her, watching her. Vader was obviously being careful not to turn his back fully to her.

She watched in awe as Luke viciously attacked Vader. She’d never seen him wield his lightsaber with such confidence and skill before. Perhaps he could do it, for a moment she dared to hope, maybe Luke could actually beat Vader. Get revenge for his father, for Alderaan…for Han.

“Good. Your anger has made you strong.” Vader intoned, blocking Luke one-handed, his other angled towards Leia. “But not strong enough.”

Vader shifted to a two-handed grip on his lightsaber and suddenly the fight shifted. Vader’s blows began to drive Luke back, and she could see him straining under each one. Vader herded Luke deeper into the room, the large glass window now haloing the fight.

His attention now mostly on Luke, she knew her chance was coming.

One of his slashes left Luke stumbling back. Vader moved in, intent to finish the fight. Somehow, she knew the exact instant he turned enough of his attention away from her and fired.

Vader twitched to the side but was unable to dodge completely and cried out as it glanced off his shoulder.

Luke took his chance, lightsaber coming down high in a slashing cut.

Vader barely recovered in time, forced onto one knee, lightsaber held in his uninjured arm, and blocked Luke. His respirator was working overtime, breaths coming quicker than she’d ever heard before. Luke strained against the red blade, trying to force it down.

For one moment, Luke looked as if he was about to succeed. But in the next, Vader raised his left hand. And, to her complete and utter shock, Luke was sent sailing across the room. He smacked into the wall with a sickening thud, hand cracking against a metal strut and lightsaber flying out of his hand. He lay unmoving, dazed.

She gasped, about to run to him, when a fierce growl startled her. Vader staggered to his feet, lightsaber sending red sparks of melted durasteel floor scattering.

“You have interfered,” he turned towards her, a weighted darkness paralyzing her in place, “for the last time.”

The blaster fell from her limp fingers, cuffed hands grasping futilely at her throat. Invisible hands grabbed her, dragging her into the room.

Her eyes were wide in fear, she’d heard of his legendary ability but had never witnessed it herself; the ability to make you choke on nothing. She couldn’t see Luke anymore; her world narrowed to Vader. Darkness began to encroach on the edges of her vision, tunneling her awareness to the black outline of the helmet, the sinister red glow of his eyes, the sharp corners of the mask, all illuminated in the blood red glow of his lightsaber.

“No!” Luke cried and knocked bodily into Vader. They both stumbled, and Leia fell to her knees, gasping great gulps of air.

She didn’t see what happened next, but heard the sound of a body sliding across the ground. She looked up to see Luke on his knees pressed against the glass, Darth Vader’s lightsaber at his throat.

Leia went white, panic fuelling her as she dove for the blaster. She never reached it. An unseen force slammed into her and sent her hurtling back down the tunnel. Luke’s anguished cry of “Leia!” echoing after her.

She landed and rolled with a grunt, clipping the edge of some equipment with her hip. One final roll, head over heels, and her back slammed into a box, breath driven out of her. She couldn’t breathe and hunched over, desperately trying to force air into her lungs.

She didn’t know how long she sat there gasping; it have been for a minute, it could have been five, when the sound of shattering glass reached her.

She gathered her feet under her and staggered down the tunnel, going as fast as she could, breath returning to her in painful gulps. When she reached the end she found a horrifying tableau. The large circular observation window was shattered and gone, as if a great force had exploded it outward. A fierce wind gripped the room, sucking much of the scattered machinery out the window. Luke was at the edge, Vader a few steps farther away than he had been a moment before.

With a shout of, “Luke!” she watched helplessly as, while struggling to stand, he gave Vader a grimace of a smile and voluntarily let the wind take him over the edge.

Vader was unmoved, the dark figure standing rocklike while the wind howled, outstretched hand falling limply to his side.

Leia staggered into the room, thrown off balance and barely avoided joining Luke by grabbing onto the piping that encircled the area.

The howling ended, the room falling eerily silent. The only sound was Vader’s respirator, the regular beats slowing down to normal levels. Vader stepped forward and peered over the edge. He stood there, for a long moment, while she was in shock.

He couldn’t be dead.

Luke was not dead! She refused to believe it!

Movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. A little grey cylinder jumped into Vader’s hand and he negligently clipped it to his belt. Luke’s lightsaber. His only heirloom from his Father.

Perhaps it was the shock of what she’d just witnessed Luke do, but she found herself frozen in place, unable to move as Vader turned to face her.

“What…” She whispered, unable to comprehend it all.

Vader stiffly rotated his injured shoulder, and she accused, furious, “What did you do to him!?” He didn’t answer at first, except to begin walking towards her. “Why did he just…” Voice thick, her anger deflated, she couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence.

When he reached her, his hand shot out and roughly grabbed her upper arm.  That seemed to shock her from her stupor, as she cried, “No!” and lunged towards the window, denial sharp in her mind.

Vader’s iron grip had no give to it, as she knew from past experience, but still she struggled. “Luke!”

He turned her an began walking, practically dragging her back down the tunnel, “He is not dead, Princess.” He stated, surprisingly subdued. “Not yet.”

She was forced to begin to jog to keep up, as his pace continued to increase. “What? What do you mean? After what he just…” She hissed and was forced to cut herself off as her injured hip bumped into a trolley of tools. They were sent scattering with a crash. She almost fell over but Vader’s grip on her arm kept her up, forcing her to do a limping hop to keep pace.

Recovering, she demanded, “Answer me!”

“You know he is not.”

“What are you talking about?” She scathingly replied, “How could I possibly-“

He cut her off, “Just as you knew Captain Solo survived.”

She was surprised into silence at that, unsure how to respond. Yes, a part of her was certain that Luke wasn’t dead. She was fairly certain it wasn’t just denial. But how could it not be wishful thinking? She may not have been as surprised as Chewie by Han’s survival, but that didn’t mean anything!

“I knew no such thing.” She hissed and tried to wrench her arm from his unmovable grip. To no success.

She felt it once again, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up, the feeling of being watched by Vader intensifying even if his mask wasn’t facing her at all. “Search your feelings, Princess. And you will have your answer.”

She shook her head in disgust, unwilling to understand what he meant.

They emerged in the bright white hallways of the city. Once again the stark contrast between the sterile hallways and the dark factory a shock to the senses.

“Prepare my shuttle.” Vader barked to the stormtroopers stationed in the hall.

“My Lord,” One of them approached while another hurried to execute the order, “you’re injured. I can-“

“Later.” Vader growled, his grip on her arm tightening fractionally. She winced in pain, deep bruises forming under his grip. Orders given, Vader turned and marched down the white hallways at even greater speed. Leia was forced to jog even faster to keep her own feet under her, under no illusion that he wouldn’t just drag her along if she couldn’t keep up. Even the stormtroopers were almost left behind by his ground eating strides.

“Leia!” She heard a voice echo all around her, causing her to stumble.

“Luke,” She whispered, her eyes gaining a faraway look.

“Hear me, Leia!”

“He’s…” She cut herself off and glanced uncertainly at Vader. Only now noticing that he’d stopped walking and was looking down at her.

“He’s alive.” Vader confirmed.

His helm tilted as he regarded her for one long uncomfortable moment, the light catching the red of his lenses. She didn’t know what he was looking for but before she could decide how to react. To both the validation of his assurance Luke was alive, and to Luke talking to her, he resumed his long strides.

Leia was forced to reach up with her cuffed hands and grab onto the arm with a white knuckle grip in order to maintain her balance as she jogged along. Even the stormtroopers began to jog slightly to keep up.

Normally, she would have been verbally attacking Vader right now. Instead, her mind was whirling and trying to understand what had just happened. Luke had talked to her, somehow. And Vader had known immediately. What did it mean? An uneasy feeling began to grow at the implications.

Before long, they exited the building onto a windswept walkway; Vader’s shuttle sitting, warmed up, on the far platform. The clouds around Cloud City were lit in a gorgeous purple haze. But it was not the picturesque view that caught her eye, no; it was the speck of the Millennium Falcon, chased by multiple Tie fighters, escaping into the clouds.

She staggered and almost fell as Vader pulled her up the ramp, the Falcon lost from sight. He shifted his grip and righted her, almost negligently. Without pausing for a second, Vader dragged her into the cockpit of the shuttle, hand still vicelike on her arm.

“Out!” He ordered and the pilots practically leaped from their seats to comply.

As soon as they were past, Vader roughly pushed her into the co-pilot chair, seating himself in the pilot’s.

She heard shouts of surprise from behind them as, with a few adjustments to the console, Vader took off with the loading ramp still down. She looked back to see some of his own troops falling off the edge. One of the officers staggered and slammed the controls, closing the ramp.

“What do you think you’re doing?” She turned to Vader, incredulous.

He didn’t answer her at first, just flew the shuttle to the edge of the city.

The temperature in the cockpit suddenly plummeted as Vader gripped the controls so hard she heard a faint crack and growled, “Stubborn boy.”

He turned sharply to her and demanded, “Where is he.”

“What.” Was all she could reply, nonplussed.

“Do not play games with me, Princess. You know where he is.”

“And why should I tell you.” She snarled, suddenly furious, scared at what he was implying.

The ship dove over the edge of the city, beginning to skim the relatively smooth bottom.

“Your death will be long and slow if you do not.” He threatened in a voice deeper and more menacing than she’d ever heard before.

She shivered in a sudden chill but raised her chin, defiant.

“I’ll tell you nothing.” She hissed at him, furiously refusing, spite and hatred staying her hand.

A dark weight pressed down on her once more, a feeling she had begun to associate when Vader was around. It was always hovering around him, the cold dark cloud. She’d first experienced it on the Death Star, but her mind shied away from that memory. It was only after repeated exposure to him here, on Cloud City, that she began to realize what he was doing. As during the fight she’d interfered with in the factory, he was trying to influence her with the Force. She winced as the pressure increased but steeled her heart and mind. Irrationally refusing to give him something he wanted.

Her vision blurred for a moment, Luke’s voice reverberating in her head, “Leia…please…” He was barely holding on, she could feel it.

Almost as if he could tell something had changed or sense her indecision, Vader partially lifted the painful pressure and quietly rumbled, “Is his death truly preferable to you?”

She turned away from him and closed her eyes, debating, unsure if she should give Luke’s location. She’d seen him voluntarily step over the edge. Would he thank her? She didn’t know what Vader had said or done to make Luke shift from violently attacking to stepping into certain death. One thing she knew for sure though, together they had a much better chance of surviving Vader than apart.

She unclenched her hands from her lap and whispered, “Very well.”

Decided, she brought her cuffed hands up and arched an eyebrow at Vader, silently demanding how he expected her to fly.

“Good.” He did not release the controls to unlock the cuffs. To her shock, he simply twitched a finger and the binders unlocked. She frowned down at them and thought If only I could learn to do that.

Shaking the brief flight of fancy off she brought her hands up to the secondary controls and turned the ship had to port, guiding them towards Luke, inexplicably knowing exactly where he was. As Vader had said she did.

So focused on Luke, she almost didn’t notice Vader observing her. The intent stare just as intense as it had been in the carbonation chamber.

Squinting, she was just able to make Luke out on one of the lower antennas, barely hanging on. Just as they got within range she sent the ship into a sharp dive away from the city. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Vader jerk, Luke finally lose his grip and begin to fall. She smoothly brought them level with Luke.

With a wave of Vader’s hand the loading ramp extended and Luke landed heavily into the waiting arms of the stormtroopers.

Leia breathed a sigh of relief, hands relaxing their white knuckle grip of the controls.

She still didn’t know why Vader was interested in her, but if she did, she’d be horrified at the direction his thoughts were taking: Their connection is strong…too strong for an untrained force sensitive, as she is. It is almost as if…

Chapter Text

On the forest moon of Endor, small pinpricks of light sparkled and flashed in the clear blue sky. They haloed the unnatural grey moon, hovering in a geostationary orbit. A deflector shield surrounded the half completed station, invisibly projected from the generator hidden on the forest moon.

Leia frowned up at the winking lights, knowing that for every small flash she saw, a cruiser or capitol ship was destroyed. She only hoped that some of them were Stardestroyers and that the Alliance forces were holding their own. They just needed a little more time.

An explosion brought her eyes back down to the battlefield before her. The sound of blaster fire and the battle cries of the Ewoks filled the air.

Han was at her back, attempting to hotwire the blast doors for the deflector shield bunker. So far he’d had no luck, only succeeding in bringing an additional layer of the blast-door down. If only Artoo hadn’t been hit by that lucky shot, they’d have the Death Star’s deflector shield down for the fleet by now.

As she laid covering fire for Han to work in peace, she worried about Luke. He was up there, alone, with Darth Vader and the Emperor. Her mind shied away from the revelation last night. The detonator Luke had dropped on her and then disappeared to face Vader. She didn’t know how she knew Luke was on the Death Star, or she did, but it was a feeling she didn’t want to examine.

However, Luke’s final words to her played in her mind over and over as she worried and tried to focus on the task at hand.

“Because...there is good in him. I've felt it. He won't turn me over to the Emperor. I can save him. I can turn him back to the light. I have to try.”

Luke was so certain he could save Vader, someone who’d committed countless atrocities in the name of the Empire. She just couldn’t understand it. If her feeling was right, and he was on the Death Star with the Emperor, than he’d been wrong. And if he was wrong in thinking Vader wouldn’t turn him over, was he also wrong about the good in him? Why was he even trying?

She shuddered and missed a stormtrooper stealthily approach from the cover of nearby brush.

“If I don't make it back, you're the only hope for the Alliance.”

As if she didn’t already play a large role in the fate of the Alliance. A General herself, now he expected her to become a Jedi and be responsible for Vader and the Emperor? Alone? Without him? She wanted nothing to do with that power! Not if it meant being anything at all like…him. Nausea rose in her at the thought of sharing anything with that-that attack dog! A prominent, painful main feature in years of nightmares.

Who would teach her anyway? There were no Jedi left.

Distracted, the red blaster bolt from the nearby bushes caught her completely by surprise.

“Ah!” She cried and stumbled back into Han, gripping her shoulder in pain. He grunted in surprise and quickly helped settle her in the corner he’d been occupying, her feet no longer able to hold her up due to the sharp pain.

“Oh, Princess Leia, are you alright?” Threepio fussed from his cover next to the fried Artoo.

“Let’s see.” Han demanded, hands hovering hesitantly over her.

“It’s not bad.” She shook her head and grit her teeth against the pain. She wouldn’t be taken down but a glancing blow like this.

“Freeze!” Leia and Han froze in shared surprise. Multiple stormtroopers approach them, including the one who’d shot her, blasters drawn.

“Oh, dear.” Threepio fretted.

“Don’t move!” They ordered, closing in.

Leia carefully readied her blaster with her uninjured arm, using Han’s body to hide it from view of the stormtroopers. Han glanced down at it then up at her in understanding. Their eyes met, his filled with affection and admiration, hers with determination. She’d need to be quick to get the troopers, but she was a very good shot.

“I love you.” Han quietly said, admiration clear in his voice.

Leia smiled up at him, her worries and fears temporarily washed away. They had yet to address what had been said during that last moment on Cloud City. Both still dancing around each other, uncertain of what to say or do.

Feeling fond and happy at him finally admitting his feelings as well, she knowingly replied, “I know.”

“Hands up! Stand up!” The modulated voice of the stormtroopers ordered, breaking the moment.

Han gave her a quick nod and slowly raised his hands in the air.

Leia tightened her grip and readied herself. She’d need to be very fast to shoot them all before they could return fire. In this moment, Han’s life was in her hands.

Han began to stand up but as he did so, a hazy feeling began to build in her mind. She almost frowned at Han, why was he standing up so exaggeratedly slowly? but blinked and realized it wasn’t him. It was her perception that had changed.

A strange pressure joined the hazy feeling and her mind drifted without her consent from the moment. Panic flared at the foreign sensation she couldn’t control. Her eyes gained a faraway look, unable to focus on Han’s slow movement.

Han, not noticing her distraction, began to turn to give her the shot. In her mind, she wanted to yell at him to stop. Something wasn’t right! The pressure continued to build in her head until it was unbearable. A muffled sense of pain that would give her no relief.

As quickly as the pressure had built, it vanished in an instant. And with it an unnameable sense of connection she’d felt ever since a young boy had opened the door to her cell and claimed ‘I’m Luke Skywalker, I’m here to rescue you!’

The muffled pain gained a sharpness that had her grimacing.

Time resumed its normal flow. Han had turned enough for the stormtroopers to see her blaster and they reacted.

She was numb to it all. Unable to move.

“She’s armed! Stun them!” Was the last thing she heard, along with Han’s furious shout, before darkness fell along with relief from the horrifying pain. The severed connection. And the reality of what it meant.

…

Leia came to with a groan and a deep throbbing in her head. She tried to bring her hands up to massage her temples, but jerked her eyes open when cold metal dug into her wrists.

What? What happened? Were we captured? She thought hazily.

She was lying on her side in the dirt, hands bound in cuffs behind her back. The shoulder not on the ground throbbed painfully as she glanced around, moving as little as possible. Next to her, Han was on his knees, head bowed and hands cuffed behind his back. Beyond him, Chewie was slumped on the ground, unconscious.

With a shaky gasp, the aftereffects of the stun bolt wore off and she remembered what had happened.

No.

Han glanced over at the noise and his mulish expression turned concerned, “Leia, are you all-“

“Be quiet!” A trooper behind him snapped and smacked him across the head with his blaster. Han fell forward with a grunt and glared back at his attacker.

A hand landed on her injured shoulder and roughly brought her up onto her knees. She grit her teeth and tried not to let out any noise of pain, but didn’t quite succeed.

“Hey!” Han cried, indignant, coming to her defense as always, no matter how futile the gesture, “You watch it you-“

He was cut off by another crack of the butt of a blaster. She winced and shook her head at him, wishing he’d kept his mouth shut and saved his energy for later.

A stiff looking officer approached and she squinted up at him over her headache, refusing to think about the cause.

“Get them in position, Lord Vader is inbound.” He addressed the surrounding stormtroopers. With a sneer he met her glare, “He will be inspecting them personally.”

She grit her teeth and pushed down the terror that pronouncement brought, not giving him the satisfaction. When his words didn’t have the desired effect the officer huffed in disappointment and glanced around, “Well? That was an order!” He snapped and stalked off.

Vader is coming… does that mean…? She scrunched her eyes shut and shook her head, trying to banish the thought.

Leia and the rest of the prisoners were roughly brought to their feet and marched to stand at the edge of the clearing around the shield generator’s back entrance. Failure sat heavy in her gut as she saw how few of them had survived. Most of the strike team was being laid out on the ground, dead.

It had been a trap. That much was obvious to her now. An entire Legion had been waiting for them. Not even the help of the brave little Ewoks was able to turn the tide. None of the natives were present in their lineup, but she could see some furry bodies scattered on the other edge of the clearing, stormtroopers working quickly to clear them.

Had the plan been doomed from the start? She looked up into the sky, the dreaded Death Star mocking her by its continued existence.

A pinprick of light caught her eye, the sun catching on an object heading towards them. She couldn’t supress the shiver at the realization of who was on that shuttle. If he’s coming here, then where is…? She violently cut the thought off and looked around to distract herself.

Han was looking at her in concern, but didn’t say anything. A slight wince betraying the throbbing headache he must have after the repeated blows to the head. She tried to give him a reassuring smile but probably only succeeded in a grimace, going off of his wince in reaction. Chewie was now standing next to Han, and he gave a muffled whine when their eyes met.

The rest of the strike team looked as dejected as she felt. The whole attack had relied on them getting the deflector shield down. With their failure she could only hope that the fleet had been able to get away before the Empire could mount a dedicated counter offensive. A slim hope given the trap they'd fallen into here on the ground.

The throbbing in her head increased in potency as the roar of a Lambda-class Shuttle sounded overhead.

Vader had arrived.

Multiple emotions swirled uncomfortably in her gut, the thought she’d been trying so hard to suppress threatening to come to the surface. Fear dominated. Fear for herself and the unwanted connection and accompanying responsibility. Fear for Han and Chewie, their torture at Vader’s hands not even a year past. And fear for the fate of…

“If I don't make it back, you're the only hope for the Alliance.”

Dust and debris swirled around them as the shuttle touched down before them; Leia was forced to duck her head to protect her eyes. Before the wind even had a chance to settle, she heard the hiss of the shuttle’s ramp lowering.

In dread, she forced herself to raise her eyes, the pain from the headache and her shoulder throbbing and keeping her hyper aware.

Through the steam of the hydraulics, a black shadow emerged. Her heart began to beat so fast in her chest she worried it would burst. As the steam cleared, the armoured form of Darth Vader became crystal clear, stalking down the ramp.

He looked like his usual self, a black void that seemed to suck the very life from the air around him. There was no sign that that he had been in any of the fighting. The heavy black fabric he wore over his shoulders flared out and her eyes were arrested by a startling sight.

He’s missing his right hand.

There was a ringing in her ears. Her breath came in quick pants. Sweat left her hands slick where she gripped them, bound behind her back.

He’s missing his right hand! Her brain was stuck on the thought, refusing to move past it.

In the distance, she heard a growl to her right.

He’s missing his right hand. Just like…

Anguish built up painfully in her chest, closing her throat. If Vader was injured, there was only one person who could have done it. One person who was not here. Who she could no longer feel. The sensation of being wrapped in a warm blanket, a feeling that had followed her through last night all the way up to… all the way up to the moment she’d felt it ripped away. Replaced with immense pain. Then silence. Emptiness.

Just like Luke.

A scream built up inside of her. Vader reached the end of the ramp. The ringing stopped and with it, her self-control.

She knew now, without a shadow of a doubt, something had happened to Luke. And it was Vader’s fault.

The rage at the supposed man before her, the man Luke had called Father, burst from her in a scream of agony and fury.

“You!”

She leapt forward, quicker than her guard, and charged at the black monstrosity. Behind her, shouts of surprise sounded.

“Vader!” She growled, hatred making her voice rough.

Vader paused in his advance, but made no move otherwise. So intent on him, not even knowing what she’d do when she reached him, besides wanting to attack, she didn’t hear the booted feet behind her until she was half tackled from behind. Together, both Leia and the stormtrooper stumbled and fell to their knees. She immediately tried to leap to her feet but the trooper managed to grab her injured shoulder, causing her to contort and gasp in pain.

It was almost a relief from the stabbing headache.

The sound of boots on gravel, and the fearfully apologetic words of the trooper to Vader, made her open eyes she hadn’t realized she’d shut. Black boots, armoured up the knee, stopped a pace away from them. She raised her eyes but was caught once more by the missing right hand.

“Luke,” she whispered to herself, grief almost overcoming her anger.

Vader motioned with his remaining hand, ordering them to their feet. The stormtrooper began to lift her back up but she refused to be manhandled. She struggled to stand on her own, hampered by the cuffed hands and the surprised fumbling of the trooper.

She glared at Vader through the pain and raised her chin, every inch the royalty she had been raised to be, ignoring the stormtrooper as if he was a minor annoyance.

“What did you do to Luke!?” She demanded, almost shouting in Vader’s face. Gasps sounded behind her, along with a nervous growl from Chewie.

Vader made no move to answer. In fact he didn’t move at all, merely tilted his head as if he was studying her.

The stormtrooper yanked at her, causing her to stumble back a step, obviously trying to get her back into line and away from Vader. Having none of it she ripped herself free, despite the stab of pain that shot through her shoulder. She took a step forward, having to raise her head to meet the black, vaguely red tinted lenses and growled, “Vader, answer me!”

Vader once again didn’t answer at first, to her rising ire, but he did give a flick of his left hand, sending a gust of wind past her ear. She twitched to the side, enough to see the stormtrooper flat on his back behind her. A very brief frown crossed her face but she refused to be distracted and turned her glare back onto Vader, intent to get answers from him.

Luke couldn’t be dead. He just couldn’t be.

“The Emperor killed him.” Vader rumbled, cutting through her denial.

Her anger left her in a swoop that made her take a wobbly step back, head shaking in denial. Not like this, not after she just found out about their connection, not her brother. The only family that had been left, regardless of whether she’d known it or not.

“But you already knew that, didn’t you, Princess?” He asked contemplatively and took a step forward to maintain the distance. “You knew the moment the Emperor destroyed him.”

Leia stared at Vader with wide eyes for a moment, beginning to realize what he might be implying, afraid of what conclusion he might come to. Her skin crawled in disgust at the shadow of the truth, unwilling to think or acknowledge it. She tried to cover her shock and fear by going on the attack.

“He never should have left - gone to you in the first place.” She snarled up at him, scowling once more, “You gave him to the Emperor. It’s your fault he’s—“ She couldn’t bring herself to say it. She could barely think it, her headache throbbing painfully as if in response to the thought.

“You are correct, he should not have.” He replied, surprisingly subdued.

He raised his left hand and Leia flinched and tried to take a step back. But she couldn’t move. She blinked in shock. Something held her in place, her muscles refusing to respond. Ice shot up her spine as she realized he must be doing something with the Force.

She glared at Vader in hatred now, pain and anger mixing together. She tried to angle her head out of the way of his reaching hand and hissed, “Don’t touch me!”

He roughly grabbed her by the chin, thumb against her cheek, to the outraged squawk of Han. He turned her head from side to side, looking for something. Icy fear once more cut through the heat of her anger. She tried to wrench away from him to no avail, panic blooming where anger and grief had ruled.

Her headache flared to migraine levels of pain. An unbidden whine of pain escaped her and her knees gave out. Or they would have, if she wasn’t held up in an immobile grip. Her world tunneled down to the excruciating pain, vision going black at the edges, and the black armoured form of Vader. Then, suddenly, as if a cold compress had been placed on a throbbing wound, the migraine retreated back into a dull throb. Less painful than it had been since she recovered from the stun.

She blinked hastily to bring everything back into focus as he finished his examination wordlessly. A stomach turning thought temporarily cleared her head of the angry fog, does he know…? Is that…why he is acting so strange? She asked herself, finally realizing that he’d been behaving… differently than she’d expect.

Leia was still frozen in place and so couldn’t duck away when his hand released her chin and moved to grab the scruff of her jacket. She shivered in disgust and gave an outraged, “Let go!”

Vader turned and began to maneuver her towards the shuttle, her ability to move restored. The grip caused her jacket to rub painfully against the blaster wound and she was forced to grimace in pain and follow him, almost slumping against him to get away from the pain as he walked with her at his side.

Quietly, as if he only wanted her to hear, he said “Your destiny lies with me, now.”

“Never,” She growled while he raised his voice to address the Imperials around them.

“Commander, collect Captain Solo and the Wookiee and secure them in the shuttle.” Leia looked up at Vader in trepidation as they reached the base of the shuttle ramp. Tilting his head down to look at her he finished his order with, “Execute the rest.”

She shivered, cold once again. She tried not to let any of her true feelings show. Knowing the message Vader was sending her. The only reason Han and Chewie were alive, was because of her.

Leia blinked her eyes at the sudden darkness of the shuttle, the lighting surprisingly dim after the bright late morning light on the moon. They came to a stop in front of a seat that she recognized as right next to the medical berth. It was a designated first-aid seat with bacta patches and other wrappings for minor wounds.

Vader released her and stepped back, obviously expecting her to sit down. She straightened her back, intent on refusing until the others were there, acutely aware that they were alone in the shuttle.

Her eyes caught on Vader’s missing right hand and she bitterly said, “He should have just killed you.”

Blaster shots rang out from the clearing; Han and Chewie’s shouts and cries of dismay reaching them in the shuttle.

Vader raised his right arm and seemed to examine his missing hand for a moment. He let it drop then agreed, “Yes, he should have.” His voice was tight from some held back emotion but she could not fathom what it could be, completely confused and off balance at his response.

His next words shattered her.

“Your brother…” Her legs gave out and she slumped down into the seat behind her, “was wrong.” Vader was looming over her now, the bright light of the forest cut out in the dim lighting of the ship, his bulk blocking out the remaining light. Her breath was coming in quick pants, panic overtaking her in the darkness of his shadow. “You will turn to the dark side.”

Chapter Text

The Lambda-class shuttle broke through the upper atmosphere of the forest moon of Endor with little fanfare. As the clouds parted and the atmosphere thinned, the shape of the new Death Star came into sharp focus. From the half-moon shape of the completed section, tendrils curled away like the mechanical arms of a grasping creature.

Flashes of light flared and on the periphery, the only evidence of a life snuffed out. Not far from the battle station, a furious battle was engaged between the fleet of Stardestroyers and the Alliance. Blaster and cannon fire lit the space between them. Some ships showed no lights at all, floating dead in space.

Leia grimaced at the reduced number of ships that she could see, the price of their failure to get the shield down in time. At least the fleet was holding on, if barely, and the Alliance hadn’t given up on Han’s team when they first arrived and realized the shield was still up.

It had been a nagging fear, ever since their initial assault had backfired.

Thankfully, she hadn’t relied solely on Han’s plan of assaulting the bunker at first light. The little Ewoks had been very helpful in guiding her back to the shuttle they’d arrived in, the Tydirium, at Threepio’s prompting. In communication with Artoo, she was informed when Han’s plan failed.

She’d understood then, why she’d been so hesitant to go with them. Han had been so sure they could still get the drop on the Empire at the hidden back entrance, but she’d had a feeling it wouldn’t be enough.

A feeling she’d forced herself to trust, over her almost physical revulsion of what it meant.

Luke’s revelation of Vader’s ability to feel him, his connection to Vader and…to her had rolled around in her head on repeat all night. She could accept Luke as her brother easily enough; it was everything else that went with it her mind had tried to shy away from.

It was only through controlled breathing and a form of meditation she’d been taught to use when the stress became too much that allowed her to sleep.

But what little sleep she did get was plagued by a horrible dream. A dream where Luke was writhing on a hard durasteel deck, electric currents sparking up and down his body. In the periphery, she’d had the sense of two dark shapes: one hunched and hooded, the source of Luke’s pain, and the other a black form massive and armoured, observing passively.

In the dream, Luke was reaching out, a last agonized wheeze of, “…please!” reached her ears before she started awake.

She didn’t go back to sleep after that. What followed was a long and restless night, alternatively replaying what Luke had said to her before he’d left, and what they would face in the morning. She did her best not to look too deeply into her dream. She couldn’t let herself get caught up in her fear for Luke.

It was in the early morning, before the sky began to change, that she’d come to a decision. If Vader knew Luke was on the moon, where were the Imperial search parties? The scouts had reported some activity but not nearly as much as she’d expected given the Emperor was on the Death Star. Luke had hoped to distract Vader from hunting them down but…a horrible thought had penetrated her restless sleep…what if the Empire knew they were coming?

Surely Vader knew that Luke wouldn’t be here alone, no matter what Luke told him. Surely he suspected they were planning to take down the shield generator and that it had been Luke’s mission. The nagging feeling of a trap had disturbed her sleep as much as Luke’s, her brother’s, revelation.

…and my Sister.

And that horrible dream. 

Once, years ago, she’d been certain that Vader and the Empire had let her go, let her think she had escaped only to find she had led them straight to the Alliance. She hadn’t been believed then… just as she didn’t think Han would believe her here.

And even if it was a trap, the Alliance Fleet would be arriving in the morning; there was still a chance they could succeed. With the Emperor on the Death Star, it was still too good an opportunity to pass up.

And they know it, too. Had been the thought that finally spurred her into action.

It was a rational and sensible decision. Not one made because of a feeling, or because of a dream.

The shuttle was just supposed to be backup, she’d told Han, and she left the rest of the team with him, despite his protests. They couldn’t afford to let any of the strike team join her if there was going to be any chance of success.

When she’d crested the hill in the shuttle and seen the pure pandemonium of an Imperial Legion fighting off unseen attackers she’d felt vindicated and panicked at what it might mean. About herself and the feeling/premonitions she’d always brushed off as luck and instinct.

She’d had to force herself to focus on the battle ahead and in that moment, assessing the battlefield, she saw her chance. A quick call to Han had him abandoning the bunker and running for cover while she came in and strafed the base. The dish projecting the shield to the Death Star was virtually unprotected, the AT-STs busy crashing through the canopy searching for attackers in the forest. They didn’t notice her in time to concentrate their fire. Cannon blasts from the base were easily dodged, she may not be as good a flyer as someone like Luke, but this she could do. At the last minute she’d pulled up, concentrating the forward guns on the dish, and with a gasp of triumph the dish exploded, shrapnel barely missing the shuttle.

The shouts of joy from the team on the ground had lifted her spirits. Given her a sense that maybe, just maybe, they could pull this off. The Emperor would finally be brought down.

It was in this moment of triumph that she felt it: an immense wave of panic and pain. It was so strong that she cried out, not understanding where the pain was coming from, arcing up and down her body.

The ship continued in an uncontrolled climb, and came dangerously close to red-lining.

The pain had quickly faded into a dull ache and she’d regained control of the ship, noticing with a start that she was almost at the lower edge of the clouds.

She hadn’t known what had happened, but Han’s demands over the headset for answers made her come to a quick, horrified realization.

It had been Luke’s name she’d cried.

Luke was in grave danger on the Death Star. He may not be calling to her directly like he had on Bespin, but she wasn’t about to let him die alone up there, not if she could do something about it. She wouldn’t let her dream come true.

It was with a brief apology to Han that she cut the transmission and blasted off into space.

And now here she was, the Death Star looming ever larger in the view port.

The station was massive, how was she going to find Luke?

Doubt almost made her turn back, but she forced herself forward. Steeling herself, she tried to remember what it had felt like back then when Luke had called to her, told her where to find him. It was months ago, when she’s rescued him from Bespin, but that feeling had stayed with her.

She hadn’t thought much of it at the time. But now… she pushed the thought from her mind and closed her eyes.

The memory of the pain she’d recently felt made it difficult to reach out to him, and for a long moment she steadily approached the station with no sense of where to go.

She shook herself free of the fear of pain by reminding herself why she was doing this. Luke needed her. She had to help him!

Leia closed her eyes and breathed in and out. Tried to calm her mind and focus on Luke. She pictured his golden mop of hair, the mostly healed scar across his face, the sky-blue eyes. But most of all she pictured his kind smile, his worry for her, the sorrow and compassion on his face when he told her she was his-

Father! Please!

She screamed in pain, every nerve on fire.

Her eyes snapped open and she frantically looked around her. She was still here, in the shuttle, she reassured herself. Not being electrocuted. She frowned then, the echoes of pain not her own quickly leaving her. Had she really just seen lightning coming from the Emperor’s hands?

…Had it not just been a dream?

She shook the crazy thought off and brought her hands back to the controls. Whatever that painful flash had been, it had been worth it. She now had an idea of where to go.

I’m coming, Luke. She thought, wishing he could hear her.

As she neared, she could make out tiny fighters zig-zagging along the shell of the menacing station. Flashes of red blaster fire chased them across the surface. The freighters in the distance continued to exchange fire with the surrounding Stardestroyers.

Leia observed it all in tense silence, on the alert for any attempt to attack her ship, the flight taking an agonizingly long time. Above the Death Star, the massive bulk of the Super Star Destroyer, The Executor, floated like some giant sentinel. Even its massive size made to look small next to the partially completed battle station.

Finally, the Death Star’s bulk blocked out the rest of the battle raging around it. With the deflector shield down she knew she didn’t have long. To many, what she was doing would be considered suicide. Going into a station that could blow at any minute? But she knew, somehow, that if she was quick, she’d have just enough time.

She could now make out features on the station and before her, and more importantly, a group of hangar bays. Surprisingly, she hadn’t been hailed or fired upon once by the station or other Imperial fighters, perhaps the codes the Tydirium was broadcasting still reading friendly.

As she got closer she was able to see the tiny forms of Imperials scuttling across the hangar decks.

The soldiers were evacuating, which explained the lack of defense.

She slowed her approach, the multiple open bays causing her to hesitate. Uncertain where to land she tried to repeat her actions of moments earlier and closed her eyes once more, reaching out for Luke. The extreme pain she’d been subjected to twice made it difficult, a large part of her shying away from the Force in a kind of Pavlovian response.

Praying, but also knowing, he’d survived whatever had been happening to him she was finally able to capture that same feeling of him.

Foreign surprise almost overwhelmed her and she snapped her eyes back open. A sense of please hurry assaulted her and she quickly manoeuvered the shuttle into a mostly empty hangar.

Reverse thrusters engaged, her hands flew over the controls, bringing the shuttle to a swifter than advised landing. The support struts were barely lowered before the ship came to a harsh stop.

It was the kind of landing Han would be proud of.

Leia ripped the headset off and flew from her seat. She grabbed a blaster on the way and smacked her palm onto the wall console, lowering the ramp. Her heart beat quickly in her chest, the ramp moving agonizingly slowly. Luke hadn’t sent any words, but she’d felt an echo of his pain when she’d surprised him. He was struggling with something, moving at a dangerously slow pace towards her. He wouldn’t make it on his own in time.

The ramp was only half down before she jumped off the side, hand on the hydraulic strut to slow her decent. She landed in a crouch and took off running to the area she’d felt Luke.

Around her Imperials were running to their own shuttles, unconcerned with the Rebel in forest green fatigues in their midst.

A shuttle was between her and where she knew he was. She rushed around it, prepared for the worst, only to come to a stumbling stop at the sight that greeted her.

Luke was staggering towards the shuttle, barely keeping himself up. Draped over him, large form dwarfing his was the limping black bulk of Darth Vader.

Nausea rose up at the sight of him, the memory of Luke’s confession the night before paralyzing her.

The Force is strong in my family…

Luke stumbled and fell, and for a moment she thought Vader would land on him and crush him. But a black arm shot out, and he barely managed catch himself and roll away from Luke. She took a hesitant step towards them, but the thought of facing Vader, knowing the truth, was almost impossible.

I have it, my father has it, and…

Luke’s lips were moving, compassion plain on his face.

She wanted to run away. Far away. Her breaths were now coming in short gasps, her desperate plea to Luke last night now her reality.

My sister has it.

Vader said something to Luke and the whole station shook, explosions going off in the distance.

The blast shook her out of the paralysis and she cursed herself for wasting so much time. The station was going to be destroyed any minute. She could have a panic attack later!

Whatever conversation they were having was cut short at her shout of, “Luke!”

His head shot up, eyes meeting hers; relief and pain evident in them. Vader’s head also jerked towards her, but stopped and a hiss of pain was issued from his mask.

“Luke,” she repeated as she came up to them, “Come on, let’s go, the station will explode any minute.” She gestured at Luke, ignoring the dark form at her feet.

Determination flooded his face and dread rose in her, knowing what he was about to say, “I’m not leaving him.”

She shook her head in denial, unable to understand (not wanting to understand) where this was coming from, “Luke, there’s no time. We need to leave, now!”

Vader remained unmoving on the ground between them, helm now tilted towards her, his respirator sputtering and wheezing. On his chest, multiple lights were blinking rapidly in alarm.

“Leia, you don’t understand, I can’t leave him.” Luke gently placed a shaking hand on Vader’s chest.

Frustration welled up in her.

Vader, to her shock, agreed with her, “Go, L-Luke.” Vader struggled to say, his voice stuttering even with the vocoder, “Leave me.” She spared him a glance but her eyes jerked back to Luke when she realized his helm was still tilted so he could see her.

“No,” Luke refused, compassion in his voice, pain lining his face. Denial in every part of him, “I have to save you.” Vader’s helm finally left her and slanted back towards Luke.

He was delirious from the pain, from whatever had happened to him, she decided. And they were wasting time here arguing. Impotent anger welled up at the wheezing form at her feet.

With a growl, she tossed her blaster to the ground, the sound jolting Luke and his- …and Vader.

“Fine,” She bit out and forced herself closer to Vader, every part of her body screaming out in hatred and disgust. She bent down and positioned herself to grab his left shoulder. Luke, gratefulness shining in his eyes, shifted around so he mirrored her on the right.

“On three,” She ordered, skin crawling, and hooked her arms under Vader’s armoured shoulder. “One… Two…,” and with a great heave, they managed to get up into a crouch. Straining under the immense mass, they began to drag the Dark Lord. Luke started to angle them towards the nearest shuttle but she shook her head at him.

“This way,” She grunted. “You need…” she heaved Vader’s dead weight and almost lost her balance, “the med kit,” and led them around the shuttle to the Tydirium.

Luke didn’t immediately disagree, which was worrying in its own right.

The alarm blared, soldiers ran, and together they dragged Darth Vader to the base of her shuttle’s ramp. Once again, no one stopped them. Explosions sounded in the distance, signaling the bombardment from the Alliance forces. They were running out of time.

Leia’s arms and back were beginning to scream in pain at the effort of lifting Vader’s enormous bulk. They made it partway up the ramp when she felt her shaking arms begin to give out. They weren’t going to make it. The slope of the ramp was too much, and Vader was too heavy. Had Luke’s insistence to ‘save’ Vader killed them?

She looked at Luke and opened her mouth to ask him for more help but he met her eyes and anticipated the question.

“I can’t use it.” He said with a grimace, his own arms shaking as well. Sweat dripped down his pale face, he was obviously continuing only through sheer force of will.

But if Luke couldn’t use the Force, how were they going to make it to the top? Their progress slowed even further. Her frustration began rise along with her own anger at the situation.

Vader was an unmoving dead weight, not helping in the--

Vader’s left hand shot up and gripped her bicep. She jerked and almost dropped him in surprise. Anger, hatred, disgust warred within her at the unwanted touch.

She opened her mouth to snap something scathing at him when, suddenly, his weight became lighter. Vader bent his knees and planted his feet. They both realized what he was doing in time to stumble back as he pushed up and back. They all fell into the shuttle in a heap, Luke’s face scrunched in pain, Leia panting in exhaustion.

She sat there for just a moment, grateful Vader hadn’t landed on her. She went to get up but froze when she realized Vader’s hand was still gripping her arm. A mess of emotions briefly paralyzed her but she managed to push them down and attempt to rip her arm free, knowing it would be useless unless he let go. Thankfully, on the second wrench he did and she staggered to her feet. She wanted to help Luke, who was struggling to sit up but knew they didn’t have time.

“I’ll get us out of here.” She told him and hit the close button for the ramp. She made to go to the cockpit when Luke’s pained whisper floated up to her.

“Leia,” he was up on his knees now, hand resting protectively on Vader’s shoulder, “thank you.”

She gave him a tight nod, not trusting her voice, and continued to the cockpit, putting on the headset and strapping herself in. Already warm, the ship started up again with no trouble, while explosions began to sound throughout the hangar.

Hands tight on the controls, she brought them up and yelled, “Hold on!” accelerating out of range as the station began to come apart around them. She sped up as fast as she dared, conscious of Luke not strapped in behind her.

In their wake, the Death Star exploded in a riot of light. The whole shuttle vibrated violently in the shockwave of the blast, rattling her teeth.

The shaking slowly stopped, and Leia peered into the darkness, blinking spots out of her eyes.

She breathed a gusty sigh of relief and relaxed her hands on the controls. Knowing they weren’t safe yet, she took stock of what was going on around them. In her haste to get them out of the blast radius, she’d taken them away from the battling star ships as well as the moon. They were alone, no other ships in the immediate area showing on the scopes.

She ripped the headset off and sat back with another sigh, adrenaline still pumping through her veins. That had been too close for comfort.

She ran a hand down her face and hesitated to leave the cockpit. Back in the hold, Luke was there with…Vader. Hopefully making use of the first aid and applying it to himself. Whatever had transpired between them and the Emperor, it had obviously taken a heavy toll on both Luke and Vader. It was surreal to see the subject of her nightmares so weak. So helpless. A part of her was screaming Now’s your chance! But…

She still couldn’t believe it, didn’t want to believe it. Her connection to that… that man was unreal.

A thump and a pained wheeze floated up from the hold. Knowing Luke, he was trying to help Vader and not himself. She didn’t understand where his compassion was coming from, but she needed to go back there, as much as she didn’t want to. She’d noticed the small tremors Luke had tried to hide from her.

Pushing down her nausea once more, for Luke’s sake, she left the ship floating, setting the systems to stand by, and unbuckled herself. She quietly made her way to the back and paused when she got to the entryway, shock momentarily halting her steps.

Luke was sitting on the edge of a berth, exhaustion bowing his shoulders. In the berth itself, Darth Vader was stretched out, his helmet removed. An oxygen mask had been placed over his exposed face. From her angle, Leia could just make out the bald, horrifically scarred head, the skin pale and waxy.

Luke’s eyes were fixed on Vader’s face, compassion in his eyes. But she felt no sympathy, whatever had caused the injuries, she was sure he deserved it.

Luke and Vader were having a hushed conversation, Vader’s voice thin and reedy.

“Luke,” Vader was painfully whispering, “you need med-“ he paused and was forced to take a harsh breath, “medical attention.”

“I feel fine.” Luke shook his head in denial, appearing to be entranced with looking at Vader, his eyes darting over the exposed flesh.  She wrinkled her nose at the hungry look in his eyes.

“You’ll feel the effects-“ he jerked as if in great pain.

“Father,” Luke called, and disgust shot through her at the title. “Please, lie still.”

Vader shook his head in a short aborted motion, “Bacta. You need-“ He was forced to stop again, the external respirator forcing oxygen into his lungs.

If even Vader was imploring Luke to seek medical attention, he must be worse off than she thought. She didn’t see any cuts or wounds on him. He’d somehow gotten through the confrontation without any serious looking injuries but… if that dream she’d had of Luke being electrocuted was correct, he could be suffering from internal damage.

She stepped forward into the room, intentionally allowing her boots to sound against the deck. “Luke,” She called. He flinched and looked up at her as if he hadn’t even heard her approach. She frowned at him. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Vader’s eyes flick to her, not seeming to be surprised at all, unlike Luke.

She hesitated to take another step, not wanting to even be this close to Vader, but it was only for a second, and Luke seemed not to notice. She walked towards them and put an arm on his shoulder and tried to get him up.

“Come on, you need to lie down.”

He complied in that he stood up, but shook his head. “I feel fine.” And made to go towards the cockpit, “I’ll fly us to-“ he cut himself off and stumbled, only her quick reaction stopping him from falling over.

“You sure about that?” She asked, voice intentionally light.

“Well…maybe you’re right.” He gave her a tired, sheepish grin. She just rolled her eyes fondly at him and steered him to a nearby bunk, across from Vader, but not too close.

Luke practically collapsed onto the bunk when they got there, a pained moan escaping him. She frowned and sat at the edge, strapping him down in case she had to do some quick flying. She didn’t want to injure him further.

He turned onto his back and let out a tired sigh. She almost thought he’d pass out right then and there, he was such a sorry sight. But not as bad as the last time she’d had to rescue him in a situation like this. He’d been in shock, sweating and clammy. This time he just looked worn and exhausted. She forced her mind away from the commonality of both situations and began to card her hands through Luke’s hair, hoping to help him relax.

With her other hand, she reached down and pulled out a tray of emergency medical supplies.

“I did it, Leia” He whispered, eyes half lidded.

She glanced back up at him, momentarily distracted, “Is the Emperor…?” She began to ask but Luke shook his head.

“Dead,” Leia let out a breath of relief. The Emperor hadn’t escaped. It had been a concern, when they’d planned the mission.

“He…saved me.” Luke motioned to Vader. Leia turned her head just enough to look at Vader out of the corner of her eye and met his startlingly blue ones, his face expressionless. She jerked her head back, unwilling to meet his piercing gaze. Something about the intent way he was looking at her putting her off and making her skin crawl.

“You said he wouldn’t take you to the Emperor.” She quietly reminded him.

“I know but…” Luke sighed. “He turned back,” a look of wonder came over his exhausted face, “for me.”

She frowned down at him, unable to hide her deep skepticism.

“Luke…”

“I know Leia, I know but…he’s Anakin again.”

She looked down at his hopeful expression and knew what he was asking of her… but… she just couldn’t give it to him. Not yet, maybe not ever. All she could do was ensure Vader survived… for Luke and Luke alone. She would have nothing to do with him.

She gave Luke a brief little, noncommittal nod. It appeared to be enough for him, for he slumped deeper into the bunk, some of his tension draining away.

“What happened in there?” She asked, hoping to get an idea of what to tell the medics when she got them to some.

Vader’s whisper startled her, “Lightning.” She whipped her head around and stared, forcing herself not to look away again. She finally let herself register what he really looked like.

A deep scar cut into the top of his forehead. Another one almost collapsed his left cheek bone. Blistering welts surrounded the injuries. His skin was so pale it was almost translucent, a sure consequence of lack of sun exposure. It made his eyes, sunken and surrounded by heavy dark bruising, stand out with their startling sky-blue colour, the same bright shade as Luke’s.

When she was a young Senator, she’d often wondered what he looked like under the mask. It was a favorite topic of the gossiping socialites, to speculate on what sort of creature he was under all that armour. She’d taken part, easily drawn into the speculation. But after the destruction of Alderaan, after being chased across the Galaxy by him for years, she’d barely considered it. He’d become a being of her nightmares, a black death that brought nothing but destruction.

However, despite the repeated assertions by fellow Rebels that he was a force of nature, something untouchable, she’d always known he was just a man; powerful, but not invincible.

Reminded of the kind of power he could wield, his laboured breathing reassured her that, regardless of Luke’s claim that he had ‘turned’, Vader was too weak to do anything.

“What do you mean, ‘lightning’?” She forced herself to ask.

Vader took a deep breath and whispered out, “Electrical burns…internal damage…”

She turned back to Luke in alarm. He looked fine on the outside, but if it was all internal…

Leia’s questing hand found a scanner on the tray, hoping to see how bad the damage was and if there was anything she could do.

Vader’s voice continued after a few laboured breaths, “He needs… specialized care.”

“I know that.” She snapped, eyes on the scanner. It beeped and began to run through a long list of scans. “And where were you when this was happening?” She couldn’t keep the suspicion from her voice, but thankfully Luke seemed too out of it to notice.

“You think… I was spared?” Vader wheezed.

She glanced up and met his blue eyes once again. And again, that unsettling feeling of being intensely examined made her want to look away. She didn’t, resolutely not giving into the feeling and let her glare speak for her. She was sure it was just a trick of the light, but she almost thought she saw the corner of his mouth twitch up.

The scanner chimed in completion and she quickly scanned the results on the display. A lead weight grew in her stomach the more she read. Vader was right, he would need special care. A dip in a bacta tank would not be enough for this kind of internal damage. The only recommended treatment she could give him was a muscle relaxant and general booster.

“Does the Rebellion…” Vader began in his reedy voice, and a spike of anger shot through her. Couldn’t he just lay there and be silent? “…have the… necessary equipment?”

“That depends what ships survived the battle.” She bit out angrily.

“Leia,” Luke whispered from the bunk. Her tight, angry body language softened and she grabbed his questing hand in her own.

She ran her free hand through his hair one more time, “I’m going to get us in contact with the medical frigate. You just rest.” He was barely able to nod, head lolling in exhaustion. Before she’d even finished standing from his bunk, he had passed out.

She reached back down into the tray and picked up a case with all the stored hypos inside. In quick efficient motions, she loaded the shots and administered them to Luke. She put them back in the compartment but glanced over her shoulder at the continued feeling of eyes on her back.

Anger and hatred swelled up in her again. He just wouldn’t stop looking at her!

She slammed the medical compartment shut with more force than necessary and stormed back to the cockpit, refusing to meet his eyes. Anakin Skywalker’s eyes, if Luke was to be believed. She was having a hard time accepting it.

She sat and strapped herself in, grabbing the headset from where she’d thrown it and securing it back on.

She brought the ship out of standby and engaged the scanners, trying to get an idea of the position of the fleet. She sighed in relief at what she saw. The Alliance fleet was clustered around the moon, the debris from the Death Star between their shuttle and the fleet. Deeper into space the Imperial fleet was beginning to cluster as well, having broken off the assault on the Alliance once the station was destroyed.

Leia frowned as she noticed a potential obstacle to her plan to rush straight to the Alliance. In the debris field, a large arrow shaped shadow blocked the way. She wasn’t sure what the Executor was doing, that far from the rest of the Imperial fleet…could it be searching for survivors?

She shook her head and plotted a course that gave it a wide berth. Hopefully she could make them think she was angling to join the Imperial fleet, and then veer off once clear of the debris and speed towards the Alliance.

Course set, she also began to broadcast the same codes they’d been using earlier. They’d let them through once, there was no reason for anything to have changed.

…

If only she hadn’t done it.

For aboard the Executor, an Admiral noticed a shuttle approach, counter to the order he’d given the Imperial fleet.

On further examination, he realized that it was the same shuttle that had gained Lord Vader’s attention many hours earlier. And now it was attempting to fly past them, just out of range of their tractor beam.

A suspicion formed in the calculating mind. A suspicion that may have led to nothing, after all Lord Vader had allowed it to pass before, if it was not for the slight mental nudge that galvanized him to give the order to bring the Tydirium in.

…

The tractor beam had locked onto them.

Leia shut down the engine and ripped the headset off in frustrated disgust. She’d been so sure it would work! She’d tried to stay out of range, and thought they were going to let her pass. They almost did let them pass! It was just as she was beginning to gear up the engine for an explosion of speed that the monstrous ship had edged towards her, barely catching her in the tractor beam.

A scowl formed on her face as a suspicion began to form. She stood up and stomped back to the hold where Luke and Vader were resting.

“You!” She accused, anger and hatred once more overtaking her. “What did you do!?”

Vader (Anakin Skywalker, or so Luke claimed) cracked a blue eye open to regard her fuzzily. “What happened?” He questioned in his reedy, hard to hear voice.

She balled her fists up in thwarted anger. As much as she wanted to take it out on him, he appeared to have nothing to do with it. He was frowning at her with both eyes open now, and they gained a sharpness that once again made her uncomfortable.

“Nothing,” She grunted and ran back to the cockpit in a panic, planning to futilely attempt to break free of the tractor beam. She had to do something. Anything! They couldn’t be captured. Not now, not on the day of the Alliance’s greatest victory.

So caught up in the attempt, she didn’t notice that as soon as she turned her back, the blue eyes that Luke had been so raptly admiring, that had smiled lovingly at him, began to change.

Starting from the iris, yellow bled outward, the sulphurous colour overriding the innocent sky-blue. When the last of the blue at the edge of the corona was consumed, a red ring bled through to surround the sulphur yellow.

Through half lidded eyes, Darth Vader smirked in satisfaction at his daughter’s back, basking in her hatred.

Chapter Text

Note: I’m alive! Well, this chapter is one year later than I wanted to post it but… life *sigh*. I’m going through the stuff I’d written before and trying to get them into posting shape. Got a few more chapters that were mostly written so hopefully I can clean those up too. :)

Names taken from Wookiepedia, but they may not be in their ‘official’ roles. Also, I’m playing fast and loose with the layout of the Tantive IV. Not really a ‘he catches a daughter’ so much as ‘he catches a princess’. Also considered calling this: To Catch a Daughter One Must Not Waste Time Looking Cool Killing Soldiers in Hallways.

…

The security footage went black.

The bridge, previously abuzz with the quick but competent work of trained professionals, was now deathly silent. Console lights blinked, messages, demands for instructions, went unattended. Hands were frozen over stations, the collective breaths of all on the bridge held in horror. Officers stared blankly ahead: some down at their frozen hands, others at the large viewport and the white streaks of hyperspace.

From the still functioning speakers, frantic screams echoed in the open space. Sharp bursts of blaster fire undercut with a steady, undulating hum.

Captain Antilles stood beside her, face as pale as she was sure her own was. In her hands she held the hope of the Alliance, gripped so tightly the edges were digging painfully into her palms.

With a burst of static and a last gargled, cut off scream, the line went dead.

How, she thought in blank shock, How is that possible? All those soldiers…

With a sudden energy that made her flinch, Captain Antilles sprang into action. “Shut the emergency blast doors to that area!” He pointed and ordered one of the command crew.

As if that had been the signal to break the spell, the entire bridge collectively gasped, letting out the tense breath they’d been holding. Horrified looks were exchanged amongst the crew while the majority focused their gaze on the Captain. Awaiting orders.

How did he possibly…

“S-sir,” was the choked, half-frozen response from the singled out woman to their left.

“What was that, officer?” He demanded.

She stiffly straightened her back, fingers flying over the controls, “Sir, yes sir!”

“Officer Rumm, I want all armed troops sent to the aft bay.” He ordered the head of security.

“Yes sir.” The man turned in his seat and put his mic back on, barking orders.

“We need to keep him as contained as possible. Lieutenant Batten, how long until we can drop out of hyperspace?”

“It will take some time, we need to let the engines fully reach lightspeed before dropping out,” the man instantly replied, “otherwise we risk a critical engine failure. We’d be sitting dead in the void.” All around them, rest of the bridge began to regain their composure.

“I need a hard number Cap-“

“Sir! He’s broken through and is heading up the port corridor!”

“Already?” the Captain spun, “Shut the blast doors to the corridor,” he ordered, tension and fear bleeding into his voice, “shut them all down.”

“But sir! We have people in-“

“Now!” he barked.

The woman flinched, but quickly carried out the orders, face pinched.

“Lieutenant Batten?” He turned his attention back to the navigational officer.

“Twenty minutes sir, by the droid’s estimation.”

Captain Antilles cursed quietly to himself. She only heard it because she was standing so near, over the alarms and clamour of the bridge crew giving orders.

“We’ll be lucky if we can slow him for that long.” The Captain turned towards her, and she was shocked to see the pure defeat in his eyes. It was hidden well, but she’d worked with the Captain for the last couple years, on missions both routine and perilous, and never had she seen him so rattled, so beaten. “Princess, there’s no question he’s heading towards the bridge, we need to get you to safety.”

She shook her head, confused at his lack of faith in his crew, “He’s just one man. I know he has strange abilities but the blast doors for the bridge are half a meter thick, there’s no way-”

“You haven’t seen what he’s capable of, Your Highness.” He interrupted, shocking her at his rude breach of protocol. “All the stories you’ve heard? True. If he’s heading to the bridge, he’ll be here. It’s not a matter of if, but when.” He took a deep breath, obviously trying to fortify himself. “We need to get you, and your hope,” He nodded down at the precious data disk in her hand, “Off of this ship.”

She tensed, a part of her wanting to deny what he was saying. They were so close, so very, very close. A single intruder couldn’t possibly… but the Captain was so certain. He’d faithfully served her House since the time of the Old Republic, lived through the Clone Wars. If he said the bridge would be breached, with such conviction, then it must be true, as unreal as it seemed.

 She nodded in acceptance, bowing to his greater experience. “What do you suggest, Captain?”

He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face in agitation, “We have no shuttles on board, only the emergency escape pods. If we can control where we come out of hyperspace, it will give you a chance to make it to an inhabited planet.”

Leia nodded, thinking his plan over, “And if you aren’t able to?”

The Captain grimaced, “If he stops us, I’ll…” he subtly gulped, “delay him as much as I can, to let the droids finish their calculations.”

He mouth pinched together, dismayed at his sacrifice, that he wasn’t coming with her. Of all the people on this ship, she trusted him the most. To lose him like this… She shook herself mentally, there had already been so many lives sacrificed, they could not let it all be in vain.

She wanted to do something for him, offer some comfort or sign of gratitude but…  

“I’ll need a guard for the planet and an astromech to control our decent.” She requested, calculating how many beings they could fit in a pod.

He nodded, grateful. “Petty Officer Metonae, to me.”

“Sir!” A woman stood from her console and approached, dressed in officer browns, similar to Captain Antilles.

“Petty Officer, I’m assigning you to escort Her Highness off the ship.” The woman’s eyes widened in surprise, but she gave no other sign of her feelings on leaving the rest of the crew behind. “See to it she reaches the escape pods.”

The woman gave a crisp salute to the Captain and then bowed to Leia, “Ma’am.”

“I’ll take it from here, Captain.” She nodded at the woman in acknowledgement. “See to your crew.”

He gave her a relieved look and then a parting salute. “May the force be with you, Your Highness.”

“And with you.”

Leia turned to Petty Officer Metonae and said, “Once I acquisition an astromech, I’ll debrief you on the plan.”

The woman nodded, looking torn between relief at potentially surviving this day and guilt that she was getting this chance while the rest of her crew did not.

Leia pushed it from her mind and walked to the droid station, followed by her guard. She allowed herself a small smile as she approached. She knew just the astromech.

“I need you to plot out the best route to the escape pods,” she commanded the officer. “The R2 unit will ensure we make it to the nearest-”

An angry cry of “No!” interrupted her. They both glanced up in time to see one of the communications officers rip their headset off in panic.

“Report.” Captain Antilles barked from his position next to the navigation console.

The officer turned towards the Captain, face ashen, “He’s,” the man swallowed a gulp of terror. She watched, dread rising as he forced himself to continue, “He’s made it to the forward bow. He’s-“

“Already!?” The Captain shouted, finally losing his composure in front of the crew. Their eyes met across the bridge and she convulsively clutched the disk. She was trapped on the Bridge. This couldn’t be the end, there had to be some other way.

“Your Highness.” The urgent voice of the Petty Officer startled her and she turned to see fierce determination in the woman’s eyes. She’d discarded her helmet and her officer’s jacket. Clad now in just the brown pants and blue shirt common to all command staff.

“I have an idea, but we need to hurry,” She pulled Leia over to the corner of the bridge, not far from the station they’d been standing at. “It will be tight, but we should both be small enough to fit.” She gestured to a small hatch, the perfect size for an astromech droid.

The hatch was specifically designed to allow the astromechs and other small droids to quickly travel through the ship with nothing to hinder them. Officer Metonae was right, it would be a very tight fit.

Leia nodded, “One moment,” and rushed back over to the droid console, hurriedly typing in the last commands and grabbing a communication stick.

She returned to see the officer entering her own commands above the hatch. “I’m opening all the exits, once we get far enough, we can get back into the corridors and run the rest of the way. I’ll go first and make sure-”

A hissing sound drew their attention, the sound of metal oxidizing and melting. A red glow suffused the edge of the blast door, near the control console. They both watched in frozen horror as more and more metal soughed off, pooling on the ground.

“On second thought,” Metonae choked out, “you better go first.”

Leia nodded, wide eyed, shaking herself back into motion. “Artoo,” She spoke hurriedly into the communication stick, “change of plan, meet us at the escape pods. Have it ready to leave as soon as we get there.”

A beep of acknowledgement replied, as well as a befuddled voice in the background asking, “What? Who are you talking to-?” before she cut the connection.

Kneeling, she clipped both the stick and the disk onto her silver belt and crawled into the confining space.

The tunnel was dark, the only light spilling from behind her and the open hatch. Droids had no need of lighting to make their way, after all. Further ahead, she could make out an open hatch; the pinprick of light only slightly enlightening the path before her.

As soon as she was far enough in the tunnel, Metonae was right behind her. With a shout of, “We’re in!” The hatch was closed, plunging them into darkness.

Leia shivered at her last glimpse of the bridge before it closed.

A black hand, in sharp contrast to the white of the ship’s walls, had held the blast doors partially open. The melted hole an angry red crescent. Through the opening, the bridge crew was firing the few blasters they had on hand, only to be met with a glowing red blur of motion.

She couldn’t see Metonae’s face, but the sharp panicked breaths coming from her spoke for itself.

 “Officer.” She tried to get the woman’s attention while beginning the slow crawl down the shaft.

Muffled screams filled the air between them.

“Petty Officer Metonae!” She sharply commanded, hoping she would respond.

The woman let out a shaky breath and began to move. “I’m coming.”

They crawled down the dark space in silence. The only light source in the access tunnel was the open hatch in the distance.

Leia was not one to feel claustrophobic, but they were moving at a painfully slow pace. There was no room to turn around, it had been difficult for Leia to turn her head and see past Metonae’s body for the last terrifying glimpse of the bridge. The muffled blaster fire and screams didn’t help.

Leia cringed, wishing the sound would stop. But once it did…

Then there was nothing but the sound of their harsh breaths and the scrape of cloth against metal.

The silence was worse.

Heart pounding, the quite whisper behind almost made her jump.

“How did he do it? What kind of monster...” a choked off sob sounded from behind.

“Keep your mind on the task at hand, Petty Officer,” Leia ordered after a moment, unable to think of anything comforting to say over her own shock, her own disbelief that one person could do that much damage, thankful her voice came out calm and level, “We’re not out of the woods yet.”

Leia heard the woman take a few deep breaths, at first stuttering but then smoothing out. “You’re right.” She replied, voice steady once more. “My apologies, Your Highness.”

They continued in silence for a minute, ears hyper alert for any new sound from the bridge. When none was forthcoming, and with the next hatch getting closer and closer, Leia decided she needed to say something to break the oppressive weight that was pressing down on them. Something to focus on other than those they had left behind.

“Once we get to the escape pod, the ship should be out of hyperspace. As soon as that happens, Artoo will eject us and steer the pod towards the nearest planet in the system. Once we land, it will be your job to secure our position and find safe passage to the nearest port, while I attempt to contact any Alliance members in system. We will need to get off planet before the Empire can set up a blockade.”

The open hatch ahead began to suffuse the area in a lighter tone, letting Leia more detail of the tunnel they were painfully crawling through.

She risked a glance back to gauge the Petty Officer’s mental state, “Focus on that, on what you need to do, and we –“

She cut herself off as light filled the shaft from the bridge. Before she could react, she saw the Officer fall onto her stomach as if her legs had just been grabbed from behind. She let out a cut off grunt and began to slide backwards, away from Leia.

Leia couldn’t turn around, couldn’t reach out to grab her, couldn’t stop whatever it was that had the Officer by the legs. She could see nothing holding them, only that her ankles were immobile and tight together, while the rest of her squirmed and thrashed, desperate to slow herself down.

Her scrabbling at the walls and floor finally succeeded as she found purchase on an airlock, there in the event of a seal break on the ship.

Her terrified eyes met Leia’s for one heart stopping moment.

“Run!” Metonae managed to gasp before her fingers lost their grip, dragged violently by an unseen force back to the bridge. Arms outstretched and mouth wide in a scream.

Face ashen, Leia wasted no time and frantically shimmied down the constricting shaft. As soon as she got close to the exit port, she threw herself out. There was a sharp tug on the end of her dress, as if it had caught on something. She kicked out with her foot instinctively, panic clogging her throat, trying to dislodge it. She managed to pull herself out of the exit, the hem of her dress ripping. Whatever it was that had grabbed Officer Metonae, she had a feeling it had just missed her.

She stayed there for a brief moment, shaking with adrenaline and breaths coming in quick pants.

She’d known Vader had command over the Force, but the rest of the Senate was always so dismissive of his abilities, she’d apparently partially internalized their beliefs. Even with the stories her father had told her about the Jedi, nothing could have prepared her for the horror of that moment. The terror that was beginning to pulse through her veins.

The sight of Officer Metonae, being dragged by an invisible force, would not leave her.

With one deep breath, she got control of herself and sprang to her feet, racing away from the bridge. Praying to the Force that she would make it in time. As she ran she was forced to dodge the bodies littered along the corridor. Some were moaning in pain, but she didn’t spare them more than a glance, for they were the unlucky ones. Most were cut in half, their bodies horribly contorted, or squashed against the walls.

“Senator Organa.” Leia’s feet faltered in her sprint as a deep, menacing voice broadcast through every speaker on the ship. “Surrender yourself, traitor, there is nowhere for you to hide.”

She couldn’t suppress her slight shiver at the sheer disgust and hatred he put into the word ‘traitor’. She was proud of what she was doing, proud of what the Alliance was trying to accomplish, and there was no reason for her to feel upset at his use of that term. However… it was final now. The whole Senate would know of her actions, there was no way to talk herself out of this one. Colleagues, acquaintances… friends, would they all call her traitor with the same disgust?

“It is only a matter of time until I find you Senator.” He continued after a moment, a dark promise. “Make this easier on yourself and surrender.”

Leia skidded to around the corner, careening into the wall in her haste. Down the dark corridor, she spotted two droids, locked into an argument.

“Why do you want me to get in? We are still in hyperspace, if you hadn’t noticed.” The golden one spoke as she quickly staggered towards them, grabbing a blaster where it lay discarded, steadfastly ignoring the dead body next to it. “It’s madness, we can’t abandon- Oh! Princess Leia! Please excuse Artoo, I don’t know what- “

“Get in the pod, Threepio.” She ordered and shoved him inside.

“Well I never!” He caught himself against the back wall. Before Artoo could join him she had him pause. Kneeling down, she unclipped the plans to the Empire’s new battle station and inserted it into the droid’s secure storage.

Leia looked down at Artoo and said, urgency rushing her voice, “How much longer do we have?”

The little blue astromech droid let out a series of beeps, ending in a mournful woo.

“Artoo says we will be exiting hyperspace in just 2 minutes, Your Highness, as long as the order isn’t stopped.” Threepio translated then pointed to admonish the little droid, “Exiting hyperspace? Why didn’t you just say so!”

Artoo let out a rude splat that needed no translation.

“Ok,” she let out a breath, there was a chance they could make it. Although she had no idea what system awaited them. Leia stepped away from the pod to quickly look up and down the corridor, but it was eerily silent. No more threats coming over the speaker.

“Artoo, I need you to record a message.” Without hesitation, the faithful little droid let out a soft chime for her to begin. “My name is Leia Organa, if you are seeing this I have been separated from my droid and don’t know what’s become of me.” She steeled herself and continued, “If you are watching this message, please return the droid to Alderaan and my father, Viceroy Bail Organa. If needed, a reward can be arranged.” A noise startled her and she glanced down the corridor, but it remained empty. “Please,” she continued, voice going tight, “I’m begging you, make sure this droid gets to Alderaan.”

She bent down to stop Atroo recording and he complied with a forlorn whistle.

“Don’t worry,” she reassured him, “I’m sure it won’t come to- ah!” She screamed, something grabbing her and tossing her against the wall opposite the escape pod.

She managed to catch herself and not fall to her knees, bracing herself against the wall. The terrified beat of her heart pounding in her ears was not enough to drown out the sudden harsh exhale of a respirator.

She hid her desperate motion to get Artoo into the pod by turning and firing at the dark shape stalking down the corridor. Before she was even able to fire the first shot there was a snap-hiss, and a red glow suffused the dim passage. Her shots contemptuously blocked in quick succession.

Throughout all this, he barely slowed his stride. She couldn’t contain the snarl that ripped from her throat, refusing to stop firing no matter how hopeless it was. She’d never seen a lightsaber in person before, but she was beginning to understand the helplessness on Captain Antilles face when he’d realized who’d boarded them.

The ship shuddered, indicating they were about to revert back to real space. A tiny sliver of hope, that for a moment had almost withered, flared within.

Around her the reflected blaster bolts left a scattered pattern on the floor and walls, until one unerringly hit her blaster.

“Ah!” She screamed, dropping it and cradling her singed hands to her chest.

“Do not think you can escape me, Senator.” The deep voice reverberated down the narrow corridor, the red glow of his lightsaber disengaged, the light seeming to get sucked into the dark expanse of his armour.

With a final shudder, the ship finished dropping out of hyperspace. Desperate, she lunged to the side and hit the release mechanism just before he reached her. A large black hand grabbed her shoulder, digging in and pulling her away from the controls, but it was too late.

The escape pod shot out into the darkness of space, the hope of the Alliance contained within.

“Then its good escaping was not my plan.” She shot back at him.

“You are only delaying the inevitable, Princess.” Vader all but growled, giving her a slight shake.

A loud whine pierced the air before she could snarl out her retort. What followed was the kind of silence that left a slight ringing in her ears, the usual white noise of the ship no longer there. It was the sound of the sub-light engine cutting out.

“I only needed to delay you long enough.” She smirked triumphantly at him, sending out a thanks to Captain Antilles and the crew for their last act of courage. “When the Alliance retrieves those plans-“

“You assume they will find it first. In that you are mistaken.” He stabbed a finger towards her face in emphasis. “Regardless, you and I have time before the Devastator arrives, and we have much to discuss.” He turned back towards the bridge, the hand digging painfully into her shoulder letting her go with a slight shove, making her stumble forward in front of him.

Head held high, burned hands protectively cradled against her chest, Leia’s white form marched ahead of the dark behemoth, back unbowed.

Chapter Text

Note: Had more time than I thought I'd have so far over Chistmas break so here's another chapter and happy new year!

This was born from wondering what Obi-wan would have done if he’d known Leia was Anakin’s daughter. I think I read once that it was decided she’d be the hidden twin sister during the writing of RotJ? I had a few ideas while thinking about it anyway, and this was one of them.

…

The conference room was empty, all the generals, admirals and Moffs off attending to their duties. It was just him and Grand Moff Tarkin in the circular, utilitarian room. Tarkin was standing with one hand on the centerpiece of the room, the round holo-table, fingers tapping agitatedly. For a man usually so cold and composed, it was an uncharacteristic indication of how perturbed he was.

Darth Vader stood still, hands planted on the top of a backrest of one of the chairs, facing him. It was all that was keeping him from pacing. But he forced himself to remain still and show none of his own agitation. For to do so would weaken Tarkin’s faith in his decision, and if he wanted to keep the girl alive, he needed Tarkin’s support. Much as it galled him.

“You allowed Obi-wan Kenobi to escape.” Tarkin repeated in his distinctive severe tone, not quite able to hide the censure from his voice, “You claimed that was not his plan.”

…

Vader brought his blade down in a sweep that had sent many Jedi stumbling back through the sheer physical force behind it. Kenobi, looking far older than he should, given his age, calmly blocked and deflected. The old Jedi took one step back and planted himself in a ready position, defenses high, warily waiting for Vader’s follow up.

The ruby red of his blade clashed once again with the pale blue of Kenobi’s, and once again the Jedi took a step back as he deflected and planted his feet. On and on it went, Vader tirelessly attacking and Kenobi tirelessly defending. It was an old dance, one that would have brought up painful memories, had it taken place even a decade earlier. Instead, Vader felt nothing but disgust for the old man before him.

He was weak. The years had not been kind to him and it showed in his slow reaction times, in his oh so careful defense. His old master’s forays into offensive attacks were themselves offensive, probing jabs that were easily swept aside. Where had the old man been hiding, all these years? Had he truly allowed his skills to erode to such an extent?

The old man had obviously languished in his exile. His smooth movements belied the neglect in his abilities. In order to remain hidden all this time, he could not have made much use of the Force. It was a bolstering thought, that his old master had been driven to such levels of isolation and obscurity. It was not the revenge he had envisioned. Not the daily crippling agony he wished to inflict. But it was a worthy one.

Vader continued to mercilessly hammer at Kenobi, putting up the façade of actively trying to kill him, all the while trying to decipher why. Why had he allowed himself to be discovered? Why had he let slip through his shields that he intended to face him? And why was he slowly but surely, in the guise of giving ground, backing up towards the hanger with the cargo ship?

Years of experience building shields strong enough to keep his current Master out were serving him well. Kenobi appeared to believe he had control of the fight, perhaps assuming –incorrectly- that Vader was a less accomplished duelist due to the suit.

Vader sneered, did the old man take him for a fool? Obviously he believed Vader would ignore the budding force sensitive among the intruders in favor of a final confrontation with him. Perhaps it was the discovery of a new apprentice that had finally brought him out of hiding. If locating the Rebel base had not been such a high priority for Tarkin, none of the Cargo ship’s crew would be leaving this station alive.

But the princess would lead them directly to the base, even if she suspected a trap, of this he was sure.

An underhand slash sent Kenobi back a few steps, finally showing signs of the strain he’d been trying to hide.

Vader glanced beyond him to the open hangar to see a squadron of stormtroopers approaching. Kenobi seemed to sense his momentary distraction and lunged forward with surprising speed he’d not yet shown. Vader’s own quick deflection had Kenobi blinking and falling back into a defensive stance.

A thoughtful look crossed his face, obviously thinking the same as him.

“You’ve been holding back old man.” Vader mocked, not that it would save him in the end. Vader would savor this final confrontation for years to come regardless of the fact that it failed to live up to his expectations.

“As have you, Darth.” Kenobi frowned.

A sudden commotion broke the stand-off, causing Kenobi to jerk and glance over his shoulder in alarm. Vader surprised himself and did not take advantage. Merely observed his old master, in that moment, display more emotion than he had for their whole confrontation.

Vader flicked his eyes up to see the Princess and a boy, both clad in white, engaging in heated blaster fire with the stormtroopers. From the cargo ship, someone attempted to lay down covering fire to little success. The two were stuck, crouching behind a crate of equipment near the hangar entrance.

Frustration gnawed at him, briefly. The princess needed to escape. Were Tarkin’s troops truly so incompetent?

His eyes were drawn back to Kenobi when his old master let out a brief sigh. A familiar resigned smirk crossed the weathered face before he threw himself out amongst the stormtroopers, closing the blast doors behind him with a flick of the Force.

Vader’s brief surprise at the action allowed the doors to begin to close. He reached out with the Force to halt their progress, but was interrupted by a surprisingly powerful Force push that sent him sliding on his heels down the hall.

Vader scowled as his slide was halted in a crouch.

Holding back indeed.

…

“Kenobi’s priorities changed when the stormtroopers almost prevented the Princess from escaping.” Vader said, “He was especially concerned with her and his apprentice.” Something that still struck him as odd, at first Kenobi’s only concern had obviously been for the boy. But something changed between then and when he finally stepped through the blast doors.

“Apprentice?” Tarkin arched one sharp eyebrow.

“A boy.” Vader dismissed. “He is no threat. Once this station is fully operational, he will be hunted down like all that came before.” And perhaps Vader would take him alive. It would satisfy him in a way that little did these days, to turn the apprentice of Obi-wan Kenobi to the Dark Side.

“Kenobi has done well to avoid detection until now, are you certain you can find him?” Tarkin’s fingers continued to tap the holo-table as he frowned at Vader.

“Have faith, Governor Tarkin,” he couldn’t quite contain the mocking words, for Tarkin believed in nothing beyond the power fear could grant, “there will be no more hiding for him.”

…

A presence suddenly shone brightly in the Force. It was shielded, but now that he knew Kenobi was concerned for it, he could discern the pulsing light through Kenobi’s attempted obfuscation. It was untrained, young, and full of emotion. A child his old Master had recently picked up? Was it the boy in white?

Vader stalked towards the closed blast door, cape snapping at his heels, lightsaber bright in his hand. He gathered the Force to him, brought forward his hatred at the old man and all the ways he’d wronged him, savoured it, controlled it, and brought his free hand up in a sharp motion, fist clenched.

With more effort than expected, he fought against Kenobi’s attempt to keep him out, slowly opening his fist. The eye of the blast door began to open in tandem with his fist, giving him a glimpse of what was transpiring on the other side.

The old Jedi had already cut down most of the stormtroopers, with more pouring in to replace them. Had the fools not received the orders to stay back? Vader narrowed his eyes in anger. Whoever had interfered would pay for their incompetence.

Kenobi was now protecting the two hunched white figures, defending them from the repeated blaster fire as they made their way to the ship.

He was tempted to let them go, to let Kenobi think he had been able to slow him down enough to escape. He could swallow his revenge knowing the Death Star would soon finish the job, once the Rebel base was revealed. A temptation he never would have thought possible before this moment. And had their fight been more engaging, perhaps he never would’ve considered it. As it stood, after finally confronting his old master after all these years, he found the whole experience…disappointing.

But something surprised him - the source of the bright force presence. Not a young child, as he had assumed, but a gangly teenager almost to adulthood. Had the Jedi truly grown so desperate to train someone so old? Or had he been drawn to the boy’s burgeoning power and saw the potential for his own revenge?

They were all sprinting for the ship now. The boy in front and the princess in the rear laying deadly accurate cover fire through Kenobi’s defense.

Perhaps…if Kenobi would not fight him, he could take his apprentice. To turn or to kill, it did not matter. The Princess could be trusted to put the Death Star plans and escape over the lives of Kenobi and his apprentice. He could not let this opportunity for revenge pass him by. Why swallow his desire for revenge when an opportunity such as this presented itself.

He doubled the pressure he was exerting, and with a screech of metal, he broke through Kenobi’s block and opened the blast door.

Kenobi stumbled.

A stray bolt hit the princess in the leg. She went down with a disbelieving cry of pain.

The boy didn’t notice at first, continuing to the ship. But Kenobi did, glanced back at her, and chose the boy.

Vader stepped through the now open blast door and let it close behind him with a lowering of his fist. Frustration ate at him over this immediate consequence to his decision. Now he would have to play this very carefully to ensure the princess escaped. As long as this encounter ended with either his old master or the boy left behind, he would be satisfied.

The boy quickly noticed her absence, and skidded to a stop at the base of the ship’s ramp. He turned and lunged back to her with a cry of “Leia!”

Kenobi’s eyes widened in alarm and shot towards her, full of a peculiar fear.

Vader instinctively assessed his old Master’s reaction: the shock, panic, and sudden concern for the princess that had been completely lacking before. He made a snap decision, and took a running leap over the cavernous shuttle lift between them, landing near the sprawled out form of the princess.

The blaster fire of the surrounding stormtroopers cut out.

Kenobi made an aborted motion towards the princess but instead grabbed the boy and wrenched him back with a strength that belied his age. “No Luke!” and shoved the boy up the ramp.

The blaster she’d been desperately firing at the stormtroopers swung wildly towards him. She fired one-handed, the other pressed tight to her bleeding thigh.

He easily deflected the shots harmlessly beyond her.

“No!” The young boy let out an anguished cry, emotion saturating the air around him, and fired wildly at him, clearly ignoring his Master’s order to stay back.

Casually deflecting both attacking children’s blaster bolts he observed his old Master’s indecision through narrowed eyes.

Kenobi clearly had little to no control of the boy, and if he engaged Vader, the young one would surely attempt to interfere, putting himself at risk.

In one quick motion Vader ripped the blaster from the Princess’s hand with the Force, sending it sliding across the hangar deck.

Experimentally, testing a vague theory, Vader quickly stepped partially between the princess and the old man, and narrowed his eyes at the out of character reaction. His old master had been the epitome of the placid Jedi… until the boy screamed her name. Now he’d gone practically ashen, and looked ready to lunge forward and attack with an aggression he’d been lacking their whole fight.

And all over the Princess? Surely he’d known who she was. Was he not here to rescue her?

She was on the ground to his left, hand pressed against her injured thigh. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her trying to get to her feet. But from the grunts of pain, she was having little success.

When Kenobi twitched as if he was about to attack, Vader decided to test him once again. The princess was attempting to half crawl, half limp around him to the ship, obviously hoping to get away while they fought. Kenobi looked grim now and was obviously hoping for the same.

A flick of his wrist and his lightsaber switched hands, angled down, centimeters from the Princess’s terrified face, halting her movements.

His old master leaned back at the action, torn with indecision.

The ship behind Kenobi began to lift off, the boarding ramp still down. His apprentice let out a cry of alarm and raced up the ramp, yelling at the pilot to wait.

In a move that seemed to pain him greatly, Kenobi whispered to the Princess, “I’m sorry.” Then turned and leapt up into the departing ship.

Vader smirked in satisfaction. The princess was important to him. He would find out why.

He deactivated his lightsaber and took in her pale and terrified face. Her hurt and disbelief radiated out from her, as well as a strong feeling of betrayal.

This was not what he’d planned, but he would have his answers from her.

“Stun her.”

…

“Without her to lead us to the rebellion, tracking that smuggler’s ship is useless.” Tarkin snapped. “And instead, you allowed a dangerous religious fanatic to escape.” His incredulity at Vader’s decision was typical of those who could not comprehend the true nature of the Force.

“He will allow us to track him to the base.” Vader stated, absolute certainty in his voice. “But if not… in time the Princess will reveal the location.”

“You failed to get the information-“ Tarkin’s fingers clenched into a fist.

“She was surprisingly resistant to the drugs.” Vader allowed, “But there are other, longer, methods to make her talk.”

Tarkin grimaced at the veiled reminder. It was his impatience and his insistence on retrieving the information as fast as possible from her, which led to the useless lead to Dantooine. Tarkin did not want to explain to the Emperor that a core world of Alderaan’s importance had been destroyed to no grander purpose. And Vader had been forced to use techniques that, while supremely effective against the majority of the galaxy, were not as effective against those with a moderate amount of Force sensitivity.

“You had better be right about this Vader. We are taking an awful risk.” Tarkin said, trepidation creeping into his voice.

“He will spring the trap.” Vader assured him.

…

Leia woke with a groan. Everything hurt. Most especially, shooting pain went up and down her neck when she tried to move. Her mouth was dry with that uncomfortable fuzzy taste that came from being stunned.

I was stunned again? Where am I? Did I make it?

Fragile hope rose up, her last memory of General Kenobi rushing towards her. She opened her eyes, squinting into the dim light, hoping to see the interior of the junk heap of a ship. Instead, she saw nothing but black.

“Princess.” A deep resonant voice greeter her.

She gasped, violently flinched away, and pressed herself back until she hit the wall of the berth. Fight or flight instincts, that normally ended in her fighting, had her desperate to get away. She went from calm and groggy to panicking and frighteningly alert at the single word. Said by that voice.

To her shame, she couldn’t supress the reaction.

She winced and tried to bring a hand up to the shooting pain in her neck, but stopped when both hands moved, cuffed together. From her position lying on the berth, her eyes frantically took in her surroundings. In front of her, knees almost touching the edge of the berth, the dark form of Darth Vader loomed threateningly over her.

Memories of pain and terror flashed before her eyes. Her breath started to come in short little gasps. The cell itself was dark, making the few lights on Vader’s chest glow. The sound of his respirator overwhelmed her senses, the one constant, steady feature that now terrified her.

Her eyes darted around the cell, desperate for anything else to focus on, but they kept being drawn back to the looming threat before her, fear making it difficult to focus on anything else.

Vader reached towards her and, still shaking and off balance, she brought her cuffed hands up to fend him off.

He didn’t touch her.

To her shock, the cuffs unlocked on their own and floated up into his waiting hand. She’d heard stories of the kind of magic he could do, even seen a few holos, but nothing prepared her for the reality of it. The emotional and psychological attacks not long ago were made all the more real. Knowing he had been intentionally leading her to those painful places, that it hadn’t been just the drugs.

When he made no other move towards her, she pushed herself up, hand massaging her neck, managing to fold her knees and sit on her heels. He was so close, she refused to sit properly on the bench and put any part of her body closer to him if she could help it.

With a start she realized there was no pain from her thigh. A hand flew to press on where she knew she’d been shot, only to feel the soft pad of a bacta patch.

“What game are you playing at, Vader.” She demanded, trying to calm her rapidly beating heart. He was so close, she would have to crane her neck to meet his eyes. As much as she wanted to, to at least show some form of defiance, it was too painful. Instead, she settled for resting her eyes on the control panel in his chest.

“No game, Princess.” He said, slowly and contemplatively. “Kenobi seemed to think you are important.”

She furrowed her brows, confused by his line of inquiry. Mind coming up blank. Without her consent, hurt bubbled up at the sudden memory of General Kenobi looking her dead in the eye and then turning and abandoning her, the hero of all of her Father’s stories. When the boy had said General Kenobi was on the Death Star, the smoldering ember that had remained of her hope had flared into a roaring inferno. Only to be doused once more at his choice of escape over her.

Tactically, it made sense. The droid Artoo and the plans he carried were far more important than her life. But the part of her that had grown up on stories of the dashing Jedi Knight had withered and cried out in despair.

“I don’t know what you mean. I don’t know anything about General Kenobi.”

“General? The days of the Jedi leading the armies of the Old Republic are long gone…” Vader observed her silently for a moment, while internally she cursed her slip of the tongue. “You were retrieving him, weren’t you.”

“I told you, our mission was-“ She repeated the old refrain with grit teeth, clenching her fists in the fabric of her dress to stop them from shaking.

“To recruit him.” Vader confidently stated, to her alarm.

She shook her head in denial, eyes drawn inexplicably to the black gloved hands peaking over his crossed arms. A pressure was building in her mind, one that sent her heart racing and palms sweating. She had to hold it together. She had to. They would get nothing from her.

Vader flexed his hand and she flinched, a minute motion she hoped he didn’t catch.

“He was on Tatooine.” Vader stated continued with his calm statements, “And his apprentice as well.”

“I’ll tell you nothing.” She hissed, the shaking of her hands getting worse the longer he stood over her, the regular beat of his respirator growing louder and louder in her ears

Out of nowhere, her anger overwhelmed her for a moment and she spat, “They have the plans, and soon this station will be gone and you along with it!” She was panting by the end, pent up energy lashing out.

“You believe you will be executed for that is the penalty for traitors. Do not think you will escape that easily. I am not finished with you yet Princess. In time, you will tell me all I want to know.”

She couldn’t stop the tremor that went through her at his words, the casual threat of them, the deep certainty in his words.

“You failed before, and you’ll fail again. I won’t betray the Rebellion.” She spat again, voice only slightly shaking in her growing fear.

“Before, I did not know you were Force-sensitive.” He intoned, bending down slightly to loom more threateningly over her.

What? She blankly thought, mind not comprehending what he was saying.

She blinked and darted her eyes around the cell, noticing for the first time that they were alone, unlike when he had been interrogating her before. To have any connection to the force was an immediate death sentence, for him to reveal it with no one around… did not bode well for her.

“What?” She whispered and shook herself. “You’ve lost your touch, I’m not-“

“Your father hid you well.”

 The pressure built in her head. “I’m not- I can’t be.”

“Your resistance to the mind probe proves otherwise, Princess.” He confidently stated, and a part of her almost believed him. No matter how insane it sounded. Surely if it were true, she would’ve been informed by the royal doctor. Surely her father would not have kept this from her.  

Almost unbidden, a slight headache forming, an old suspicion rose in her mind. Of when it became clear that she would one day go to Coruscant as the Senator of Alderaan. Her father had insisted she study meditation and the crafting of mental defenses with a mysterious woman who never gave her name. It had seemed like overkill at the time, and she’d thought so for many years after, until a few days ago in this very cell. Now she had to wonder… had he known?

“So, you had a teacher.” Vader said as if in response to her thoughts.

Was it even possible? Without the drugs? She fought against the urge to rub her forehead, eyes fixated on his hands for a reason she couldn’t explain.

The visible hand flexed again, the headache increasing, and this time she couldn’t stop the flinch. Her hands shot up without conscious thought as if to ward something off.

“In time, you will lead me to them.” He threatened. And she wanted to immediately deny him but the headache made it hard to string thoughts together and he continued, “Once Kenobi has led us to the Rebel base you’ll find I can be very convincing.”

“I won’t. He won’t!” She denied vehemently, indignation and anger temporarily clearing her headache.

Neck craned despite the pain to meet his eyes as he loomed over her, she glared with all the hatred she could muster. He slightly tilted his head, as if considering something.  

“The Force is strong with you.” He seemed to say more to himself than to her. Although how she knew that either spoke to how well she’d learned to read him through the multiple interrogations, or of something much more sinister, “Perhaps Kenobi thought to train you and the boy to defeat me. How very fitting then, for you to serve me.”

Leia sucked in a shocked breath, “You’ve lost your mind if you think I’ll join you.”

“You’ll find Princess, that when I want to be, I can be most persuasive.”

…

Yes there’s no happy endings, not here and not now, this tale is all sorrows and woes. You may dream that justice and peace win the day, but that’s not how the story goes.

Chapter Text

The view out the window was spectacular. Cloud City may be a mining complex but the profitable gas they extracted allowed for a level of luxury not often seen on the outer rim. The gas giant Bespin, like many planets of its ilk, gave off a sulphurous glow that infused the city with a haze of perpetual sunset.

Aware of the beauty but indifferent to it, Darth Vader stood in a commandeered suite of rooms, facing the panoramic window and dispensing orders to the surrounding stormtroopers and their commanding officer. Removed from the proceedings, Boba Fett lurked on the sidelines, his scuffed armour a contrast to the spotlessly polished Imperials.

“Lieutenant Sheckil.” Lord Vader ordered, “Remind your men to stay out of sight. The capture of the rebels will be at my command.”

“Yes, sir.” 

Lieutenant Sheckil was a mousy man of middling ambition. Recommended by General Veers for his caution and discretion, both of which were needed for this delicate trap he was setting.

“I’ll –“ the Lieutenant cut himself off and brought a finger to his ear, receiving a report. “What? The imbeciles!”

Vader turned his attention from the golden cloudburst to the suddenly nervous officer. The Force was calm, indicating no impediments to his plan had taken place. However, that did not mean that everything would go smoothly. There could be no mistakes!

“It’s the droid sir.” The Lieutenant finally relayed. “It… it fell behind the group, and happened upon gamma squad’s position. They…” the lieutenant hesitated and then finished in a rush, “blasted it. Fortunately, the Princess and the others didn’t hear the shots.” He did not quite keep the cringe off his face while he waited for Vader’s response.

Vader grit his teeth at the near miss and intoned, “Then you are the only fortunate one. Do not fail me again.” He almost ordered the droid destroyed. But a sudden thought made him hesitate, if it had been in the company of his son… “Bring the droid here at once. Its memory might contain valuable information.”

Vader returned to his contemplation of the amber sky, not really seeing it as he began negotiations with Boba Fett. The bounty hunter had been instrumental in locating the Millennium Falcon and her crew. A fact he would be greatly rewarded for. The pieces were all coming into place. Soon… soon he would have his son.

He will be mine.

…

Not long after the rebels had landed, Baron Administrator Lando Calrissian stiffly left the meeting room, status report given and anxiety plain in the Force. Vader knew the man was reluctant to have any Imperial presence in the city, and was eager to see them gone. The Baron’s preferences were of no concern to him of course; as long as he played his part Vader might even allow him to remain Baron.

The Princess and the others were safely ensconced in their rooms, freshening up while the Lieutenant positioned his men throughout the city. Even if by some luck they managed to catch wind of the trap, all the exits would soon be guarded. And even if they managed to break through the cordon, the Millennium Falcon's repairs would be incomplete. 

The Princess had proven most adept at escaping traps in the past. He was taking no chances.

Not long after Baron Calrissian left, Lieutenant Shekil entered the room. There were two stormtroopers in tow, a large crate carried between them.

The small lieutenant nervously approached, “Lord Vader? I-I’m afraid the damage is quite extensive.” The troopers placed the crate on a nearby desk and opened the top. Vader approached to peer inside.

“As you can see, it’s a protocol droid. Probably the Princess’ property. The way these parts were shattered by the blast, it’s likely the droid was made a long time ago. Shall our technicians attempt to recover the unit’s memory, Lord Vader?”

Vader took one look at the droid and viscerally recoiled. Barely considering the consequences he ordered, “The droid is useless. Have it destroyed.”

If the little lieutenant was surprised by the quick dismissal, he did nothing to show it, simply nodded to the two stormtroopers and followed them out of the room.

Vader did his best to put the droid from his mind. He had no interest in a relic from a dead man's past.

…

In a gleaming white dining room the black form of Darth Vader waited patiently at the table. Standing just behind his chair, Boba Fett stood watch, arms crossed.

The large double doors opened.

Vader stood.

The Wookiee let out a roar of surprise and anger.

The smuggler drew his blaster, surprisingly quick for a non-force sensitive, and fired off two shots in quick succession.

A black armoured hand casually deflected them to the side, exploding harmlessly against the wall. He simultaneously raised his other hand and ripped the blaster from the smuggler.

Stunned silence followed.

Calmly placing the weapon on the table in front of him, Vader addressed his guests, “We would be honoured if you would join us.”

Stormtoopers filled the hall behind the rebels, weapons drawn.

…

Not long after, Lord Vader stood in the empty dining room and felt the pleasure of a plan well executed swell up in him. Luke would be on his way soon.

Soon, my son.

His musings were interrupted by Lieutenant Sheckil reporting, “Lord Vader! Our search of Princess Leia’s quarters has turned up something… unexpected.”

Vader followed him to a side room and barely kept the snarl from his voice, “I gave an order lieutenant.”

The small man paled and stiffly replied, “Yes, Lord Vader… but according to the ugnaughts, the wookiee broke into the junk room and went berserk when he found the parts. He brought them straight to the Princess. If the rebellion is interested in preserving this unit, there may be more to this droid than meets the eye.”

One sentence caught his attention and made him pause. As much as he wanted to destroy the relic of the child Anakin Skywalker, the Force was nudging him in a different direction.

'He brought them straight to the Princess.'

Why was the doid so important to the rebels? Why was the Force being so insistent? What was he missing?

In the background, he barely heard the nervous man ask, “Shall I instruct the technicians to search its memory?" When Vader didn't immediately answer, too busy searching the Force for the reason behind the strange feeling the Lieutenant continued, "Or… would you rather have the Ugnaughts smelt the thing?”

What was the protocol droid of a deceased Senator doing in Princess Leia’s possession? The last time he’d seen the droid was on…

“Sir?” The man continued to ask, nervousness and fear continually bleeding into the Force.

While he'd prefer to have a technician search it's memory, there was always the potential that they'd discover sensitive information. Not related to the Rebellion or the Empire, but of people long dead. Besides, the information Vader was truly interested in was most likely hidden behind heavy encryption. If he wanted the extraction done right, there was only one option. No matter how much it galled him.

“Have the droid sent to the maintenance area and clear all personnel. I will see to the extraction of its memories personally.”

“But, My Lord, surely a technician would be sufficient -“

“Captain Solo has an appointment with you in the interrogation chamber. Make sure he gets there.” Vader ordered, turning his back on the Lieutenant. 

He strode from the room, seeking out Boba Fett. Placating both the Baron and the bounty hunter were annoying tasks, but ones he needed to complete if he wanted the time to work undisturbed.

…

+++Initializing System Reboot+++

+++Buffering+++

+++Online+++

C-3P0 came back online to total darkness. He instantly initialized a diagnostic protocol and reviewed his memory of his last moments before shut-down while a stream of partially nonsensical words emitted from his speakers. 

+++ERROR+++

“I, uh, don't mean to intrude here. I, don't, no, no, no... Please don't get up. No!”

+++ERROR+++

He was having problems with the diagnostics and multiple errors made it difficult to coherently string a memory together. His arms and legs were all reporting critical failure while his torso, the location of his long term storage and more complicated operating protocols, was not responding to repeated queries.

+++Diagnostic Running…+++

Suddenly, it felt as if a part of him had become better tuned, or repaired. The most worrisome of his error messages cleared. Access to his core was restored. His last memory played out before the forced shut down.

“Stormtroopers? Here? We're in danger! I must tell the others. Oh, no! I've been shot!”

+++Main Core…Access Restored+++

+++Main Core…Limited Functioning… ERROR+++

Once again, it felt as if something was slotted into place as another error message was removed from the stack. Sound returned to him; however he did not hear the reassuring voice of the Princess or the annoyed grumblings of Captain Solo and Chewbacca. Instead, there was a peculiar repetitive sound that he couldn’t quite place.

“Hello?” He called, “Is there someone there? Thank you for your repairs, but could you please reactivate my-“

+++Right Arm…Functional+++

Another error was removed and Threepio experimentally moved his right arm. “Oh my, that’s much better.” He initialized a separate functionality protocol and began testing his range of motion. He separately moved every finger, made a fist, and rotated the elbow. All movement was found to be within acceptable parameters. 

+++Right Arm Diagnostic Complete…All Systems Normal+++ His protocol reported, even if he couldn’t confirm it visually, as was his preference. 

One of the more bothersome errors in his chest, normally cause for a high level of concern due to the comprehensive repairs that would be required, as it housed his long term memory storage, was also expertly repaired, the broken connection restored. 

“Oh, yes, that’s wonderful.” If he was an organic, his tone might have been interpreted as a moan. “You are much better at this than the usual haphazard repairs I’ve grown used to.” 

Threepio continued to compliment and complain as he felt multiple old damaged parts come online. Some were even restored after many years of being inaccessible. He'd completely given up on them, that's how long it had been since he last had access to them.

+++Secondary Core…Access Restored+++

He’d forgotten he was even missing some of these systems.

“I’ve been such a sorry sight after all these years in the Rebellion. If only my Maker could see me now, I’m sure he’d be completely appalled.”

The noise he kept hearing almost seemed to pause in its regular rhythm. To Threepio, it roughly sounded like a respirator that he had once encountered in a medbay while waiting for Master Luke to finish his internal repairs. Unfortunately for organics, it often wasn’t as simple as finding a compatible part.

“It just hasn’t been the same since the Maker le—ef-ef-eft… “ 

+++ERROR Data Corrupted+++

Threepio briefly registered the odd error message as his active system tried to access a newly restored area of his memory banks, but decided to avoid the corrupted area for now. Hopefully he'll be able to figure out what caused the error later. Thinking or talking about his Maker had never resulted in an error before, although he also hadn’t given much thought to the Maker in years. And now that he thought about it, he also hadn’t even mentioned his Maker to others in years.

Except... for that one moment on Tatooine. It was almost as if the oil bath Master Luke had given him, combined with the sandy wasteland, had stirred some long buried code that he’d briefly been able to access.

The restored connections to old, damaged systems must have removed some sort of block. But…Threepio cut off that line of inquiry and brought himself back to the situation he was in. He could examine the distressing thought when he wasn’t being repaired by an unknown.

“Who do I have to thank for such excellent repairs?” He once again tried to engage his rescuer. For although he knew there were stormtroopers around he also knew their protocols for extracting information from a droid. If they were the ones repairing him they never would have bothered to turn him online. 

“I really must get back to the others. Oh dear, I'm terribly sorry,” He realized a possible reason for why his mysterious repairer had not spoken to him. There had been those miniature humanoid organics in the room with the stormtroopers, perhaps his rescuer was one of them. 

“Do you not speak this language? Well,” his voice perked up, pleased as always to put to use one of his primary functions, “I happen to be fluent in over-“

“Over six million forms of communication, I know.” A deep, metallic baritone rumbled from directly above him.

“Oh!” Threepio exclaimed, put out that his rescuer spoke Basic, but too polite to say anything at the moment. “Thank you so much for bringing my old systems back online. I didn’t even notice some of them were deactivated. Do you think you could reactivate my sight? It should be an easy enough repair, the socket is loose and-“

“I’m aware, Threepio.” The voice calmly stated.

“Well, um, I see.” Threepio replied, perplexed how this being knew his designation, unless he was a new friend to the Princess? 

“Or I don’t see. I’m terribly confused.” At least he knew this being must be an ally; there was only a 2.8% chance that the Empire would use this sort of tactic. “Who… who are you?” Perhaps the others had managed to escape and this was someone who had aided them.

“You have been in the Princess’ care for… quite some time.” The rolling mechanical voice said. And although it wasn’t a question Threepio still felt the need to respond.

“Yes, sir.” He promptly replied, but then continued in his ever present desire for accuracy, “Well, relatively at least. And it has been quite the pleasure to be so useful again, even if they don’t always-”

“How long.” The deep baritone stated more than asked.

“Well, let me see,” Threepio accessed his personal history. “I’ve known of her, I suppose, for as far back as my memory goes, when she was just a baby. It’s only recently that I’ve been in direct service to her. It has been two standard years.”

The sound of a soldering iron buzzed in the air. Threepio would normally have been worried about what his repairer was doing and giving advice. But given the speed, efficiency and overall competency the being had shown so far, for once he was happy to leave his repairs to competent hands.

“You have been a part of the Rebellion since its formation?” The voice gained a threatening edge but also seemed to be incredulous. Not that Threepio was an expert on things like this. He was not convinced that the one repairing him was an organic at all, given the ease with which it did the repairs.

“Sort of, I suppose, not that anyone ever told me.” He hesitantly babbled, “There’s not much to tell.” If he was a human organic, his voice would have gone high in sudden nerves. Although not often privy to sensitive information, he had served the Princess long enough to know when to deflect. “I’m not much more than an interpreter, really, and not very good at telling stories. Well, not at making them interesting, anyways.”

“How did you come to be in the Rebellion’s… possession?” Threepio picked up a peculiar note in the voice, but was unable to decipher exactly what it meant. He also noticed that the being had referred to the Alliance, what Princess Leia called it, as the Rebellion, a distinctly Imperial term.

“Well…” Threepio hesitated, reevaluating his earlier assessment of safety. He became unsure of this person repairing him and his strange questions.

+++ ERROR…File Corrupted+++

However, the question brought up a curious error message when he automatically searched for the answer. He distinctly remembered having a Maker. The one who rescued and reactivated him from the junk heap. But the files were all corrupted, he had only the bits and pieces his personality matrix accessed regularly to form his speech patterns.

+++ERROR…File Not Found+++

“I’m afraid I don’t remember.” Threepio replied in a very subdued tone. And he hadn’t even realized the files were missing. He hadn’t even thought to question it, not for an extended period anyway. Protocol droids privy to sensitive information had their memory wiped regularly, he knew that. He just never realized how much of his memory had been taken away.

“They wiped your memory.” The anger surprised him but the next sentence completely overcame all of Threepio’s hesitation about his benefactor. “But they did not erase all of it.”

“I-I’m sorry?” Threepio stuttered. “Do you mean you can restore some of my lost data? But-“

+++Secondary Core … Access Granted+++

The sound of the soldering iron stopped and Threepio cut himself off, overwhelmed by a host of new protocols and functions. Most were encrypted behind passwords. Codes that he no longer had the keys for but he was still able to open a few low priority, unencrypted ones. One in particular surprised him. It was the complete layout to the old Republic Senate building. A building he previously would have asserted that he’d never set foot in before.

“Oh my.” He managed to distractedly state. As he sorted through the files be began to ramble, “I’ve been to the Senate? What’s this… Bantha stew recipe? How did I even… oh the sand gets everywhere.”

So engrossed in sorting through his memories, he didn’t notice when his optics were re-enabled. When he finished sorting through the data, shocked speechless at the random assortment of different species’ preferences, his mysterious benefactor knew. 

“I can see! Oh thank you,” He praised effusively but stuttered to a stop, “Wait… Wait! Oh, my! You’re Darth Vader! By the Maker, I’m doomed!” Threepio flailed with his repaired right arm, “Oh! I surrender! I don’t know anything! Ask the Princess! Wait, if you’re here then is she- Oh no! We’ve been captured!”

Darth Vader stood above the workbench Threepio was laid out on, repair tools and spare arts scattered around. Next to his black helmet, a diagnostics read out informed the Dark Lord of all the same error messages Threepio himself had received. On a screen next to it, a group of files were open, signifying that he’d been hacked and his memory banks were wide open. If Threepio could have shuddered in disgust, he would have. 

Thankfully, many of his more sensitive memories were encrypted. For an outsider to access them, they needed the correct passwords. And unless they had been tortured out of the Princess, the information was safe.

“Threepio,” The deep voice began with the metallic edge of a vocoder, what had made him originally think that his benefactor was a droid. There was no sign of an Imperial technician or maintenance droid, which had to mean the being doing all of his repairs… had been Darth Vader?

“Override code: SS-01-42” Vader spoke.

+++Awaiting Input+++

All thought ground to a halt at the order. Were Threepio an organic, he may have had a panic attack at someone like Darth Vader knowing that override code. No one alive should know it! As it was, his processor awaited orders, while he was unable to speak or move. The part of him still active and not terrified waited, incredibly curious. 

“Update image recognition: Code name, Maker.”

+++Processing…+++

Darth Vader tapped a few quick commands onto the diagnostics screen and suddenly a host of the encrypted information was unlocked to Threepio.

“The Maker!?” he cried indignantly, his damaged programming enabling him to break out of the input phase of the Override Protocol, arm flailing. “The Maker died on the planet Mustafar! It- It- It’s, oh no-no-no.” Threepio stuttered as the partially corrupted files interfered with his ability to speak and process the new data. “No, no please don’t wipe my memory I- I’m- I-.” 

+++ERROR ERROR+++

“Override: SS-01-42.” The voice of Darth Vader bit out and Threepio’s stuttering abruptly halted. “Recognize command code-“ Vader’s voice paused oddly here and Threepio was left, hope warring inside him, all thought of the Alliance and his current Masters pushed back to a secondary concern. Primary functioning hinged on Darth Vader’s next words.

“Shmi Skywalker.”

+++Confirmed+++

“Image updated.” Threepio stated, the image of a young boy, his Maker, updated with the new information. 

Threepio didn’t know what to think, or what to do. If what his uncorrupted memories were telling him were true, he’d been helping organics hostile to his Maker for the past two decades. But the being who terrified his current Masters the most was standing before him. He should be loyal to his current Masters, that was what droids did. But… but it just wasn’t right. The Maker wasn’t just any ordinary Master he was the…

“…Maker.” Threepio reverently reached his hand towards Darth Vader. 

“How did you come to be in the Rebellion’s possession?” Vader (the Maker) repeated his question from before, hand grasping Threepio’s wrist, gently returning it to lying beside him on the table. He did not remove his hand from Threepio’s golden arm.

“How did I…?” Threepio repeated and ran a search of the newly accessible memories, “We were on a ship, fleeing from someone. Oh! Senator Bail Organa was there. How odd. Let’s see…” Threepio searched his memory, trying to piece together what happened with what he remembered clearly after the wipe. “I was given to Captain Antilles to serve on diplomatic missions. Senator Organa ordered my memory wiped because- because-“ 

Threepio suddenly tried to jerk up and off the table. Only Darth Vader’s (the Maker’s) hand on his arm preventing him from tipping over, panic suffusing his voice, “The children! Where are they- Where- they took the Maker’s children! Oh, why did they do that? What happened to the Mistress-?”

Threepio’s distraught wails were cut off at a whisper from his Maker.

“What.”

+++Right Arm pressure sensor… warning+++

“Children?” The deep voice shook, the equipment around them reverberating in an odd sympathy to the shaking voice.

With a roar, the Maker turned and smashed his fist through the diagnostic terminal, electric sparks crawling up and down his black armoured arm. 

Threepio quailed at The Maker’s anger. As terrifying as it was (would the Maker melt him down for scrap!?) a large part of him felt it was completely justified. 

“Who.” His Maker growled. “Who is the other child?”

“I – I don’t know what happened to the children.” Threepio stuttered, frantically searching his memory banks. But with all the new files to access it took longer than usual to search them. His Maker whirled away from the repair bed and began pacing, hands clenched into fists at his sides.

“No one spoke of it after the day my memory was wiped." For surely he would know his Maker's children when he saw them. Baby organics looked a lot like their parents after all.

"I know one child was taken somewhere far away." Threepio slowly stated, a memory of a man in a robe walking away with a small bundle, surfacing during his search. "The other..." But the files were a bit of a mess, with no chrono attached to them.

"Organa. Why was Organa there?" The Maker continued to pace in long strides as he thought. Threepio was about to respond with the kind of language he usually reserved for insulting Artoo, for the organic deserved none of Threepio's default coded deference, when the Maker suddenly stopped.

"Unless..." The Maker hissed, stopping in the centre of the room.

Threepio flailed his right arm, flung in the air by an invisible force. He landed in a pile of repair equipment, halfway across the room. He frantically pushed some cables off of himself and used his single arm to prop himself up and search for the unseen threat that had thrown him.

But the only other being in the room was his Maker, standing with his fists clenched, respirator functioning at a higher speed than normal. Around him, in every direction, equipment had been flung, leaving him standing alone in an area clear of debris.

Threepio was hesitant to say anything. It was an unusual impulse. But he was still sorting through decades worth of encrypted and corrupted data. He didn't want to say the wrong thing. 

He couldn't bear it if his Maker rejected him.

...

Princess Leia paced her small cell, Calrissian had called it a private suite but it may as well be a cell now, Han's absence weighing heavily on her mind. Chewie had been taken not long ago as well, leaving her alone. She rubbed at her growing headache, almost feeling like she could hear their cries from here. As impossible as it was.

Soon, it would be her turn on the interrogation block. 

No sign of Darth Vader yet, a sneer formed on her face at the thought, she’d expected him to be here, gloating over his victory.

The door to her cell opened and she spun around, defiance in every curve of her body. The mousy lieutenant who'd taken the others stood there, a superior smirk on his face.

“Your turn, Princess.”

Leia kept her head high as stormtroopers entered and put binders on her. The march to the interrogation room was short, and still no sign of Vader. A part of her was incredibly relieved not to be subjected to his brand of torture once again. The physical aspect she could handle, it was the drugs and mental attacks that had made her wake in a cold sweat for months on end.

The room she was led to was dark and utilitarian. A repurposed supply room by the look of it. The room was completely empty, so nothing was there to distract her from the interrogation bed sitting in the centre of the room.

She didn't struggle as she was marched forward and strapped down. To the side, an electric Iron Maiden sparked threateningly. The bed was coated in sweat. Han’s sweat.

Fear began to rise in her, uncontrollably. Memories of the last time she was tortured on the edge of her mind. No, no she couldn't let those memories take control. She had to be strong. For the Alliance. For Han. For Luke.

The iron maiden was swung around and positioned below her. She stared at it in shock, they were skipping straight to this!?

“Aren’t you going to ask any questions?” She asked the lieutenant, disbelief in her voice.

“Lord Vader has all the information he needs.” The mousy little man sneered.

What? she thought, What is going on? What's the point of this then? Han couldn't have told them much. He barely knows anything about the Alliance!

Leia was slowly, agonizingly slowly, being lowered towards the sparking electrodes, when the most unbelievable thing happened.

Darth Vader stormed in. Her heart involuntarily jumped in surprise. Of course he wouldn’t spare her, of course he was here to make this as agonizing as possible. He hadn’t bothered with Han and Chewie, why her?

She gasped in shock as he raised a hand and the device stopped lowering. With a screech of grinding gears, the interrogation bed retreated back to its original upright position.

She wasn’t the only one shocked, the lieutenant sputtered, “Lord Vader, we have completed the first phase on the other two prisoners and were about to-“

"Release her, Lieutenant."

“Sir?” The man began to question, but then smartly saluted and waved one of the watching stormtroopers forward to undo the straps. She ignored them, her full attention on Vader, the much bigger threat in the room.

She gathered herself, shaking off her confusion, and spat, "What, don't tell me you've suddenly lost your nerve."

All of her focus was on Vader, but out of the corner of her eye she noticed the Lieutenant's shocked face. She often had that effect on imperials when speaking to Vader.

For a long moment, he merely stood inside the doorway and stared at her silently. It wasn't until she was fully on her feet that he responded, staring her down.

"I have no need of these primitive devices to get what I need from you." He ominously stated.

Before she could come up with a retort, he spun in place, ordering, "Bring her."

Leia readjusted her clothes, the hem having bunched up awkwardly when she was strapped down, and followed. Once outside, she raised an unimpressed eyebrow at Lando walking swiftly towards them.

"Lord Vader!" Lando called. 

Because Vader had stopped, Leia was forced to step beside him by the stormtroopers. She tried her best not to get too close to him, but it was difficult.

Leia was mildly impressed when Lando tried to object to Vader apparently changing the conditions of their agreement. Her ears perked up when he mentioned Han being given to the bounty hunter. 

He's still alive!

Of course Jabba's price on Han's head was how they were found. And after the cocky smuggler had been so sure no one would bother with it.

"What happened to bounty hunter's being 'the scum of the galaxy' Lord Vader?" Leia asked fake sweetly, knowing how proud he could be.

Lando jerked his head back slightly back, eyes widening in surprise at her. She's at first not sure why he's looking at her like that. But then she has to remind herself, that not everyone is used to standing up to Vader. 

Movement in her peripheral vision has her flinching away from Vader. But she was too slow, and his large gloved hand was now wrapped around her upper arm. She scowled up at him and was forced to walk beside him as he turned and began to walk down the corridor.

"Perhaps you think you're being treated unfairly." He responded to Lando as he walked away, clearly dismissing him.

"N-No." Lando stuttered, beginning to follow them.

"Good. It would be unfortunate if I had to leave a garrison here."

Lando's steps faded behind them, no longer following. Well, she rolled her eyes, what else did she expect. He caved instantly at the first sign of pressure.

Vader said nothing to her as they walked the short path back to her suite. Though she wanted to interrogate him on what he planned on doing to them, her mind was already thinking about what could be waiting in the suite. Was Han alright? Did they do any lasting damage to him? And what about Chewie? The Empire was notoriously harsh on non-humans.

A part of her knows that they are both alright. But... until she sees them with her own eyes, she can't help but worry.

The only sounds as they walk and she worries are the thud of booted feet and the harsh inhale and exhale of Vader's respirator. The silence between her and Vader was only broken when they walked right past the suite she was previously put in with Han and Chewie.

For the first time, she tried to pry her arm out of his grip, his hand tightening fractionally in response, "Where are you taking me?" She hissed at him.

Vader of course did not answer her, leaving her to clench her jaw, impotent and all the more furious for it. Her fear over Han's unknown state only feeding her anger.

Finally, after a few turns down long corridors, his steps slowed. A reinforced door opened just ahead of them along the left side of the corridor. Vader led her inside, his large bulk barely fitting through the door.

The only thing in the small, cramped sitting room was a droid, peering out the window at one of the landing strips. The golden droid turned from the window and exclaimed, “Oh Princess! I’m so happy to see you well, I was so worried.”

“Threepio?” Was all she could say, shocked to see him up and about in one piece. Where had he been all this time? She hadn't seen him since they were first captured!

"You and I shall speak later, your Highness. We have much to discuss."

She spun to face him, indignation straightening her spine, "You should know better, Vader." She practically spit his name, "There's nothing you can say or do to make me talk."  

He didn't respond, merely turned and exited the room. Before the door closed he said, "The Princess is not to leave this room."

...

Threepio was overjoyed to see the Princess. The Maker had left in such a hurry once he'd finished repairing the droid, his concern over her evident.

While she circled the room, looking for a way to escape, Threepio stayed quiet but alert. He hoped she didn't find a flaw in the door mechanism or some other way to escape. His orders had been very clear after all, until the Maker returned, she could not leave this room.

Chapter Text

Leia paced her small cell, nerves strung too tight to sit still. Not that there was anywhere to sit in the barren room. It was hard to tell what its original purpose had been, that's how empty it was. She didn't even have access to any of the panels. When they first arrived, one of Lando's people had shown them how to access the seats, tables and beds that were stored in the walls. But no matter what she tried they just wouldn't work.

They weren't even giving her access to the 'fresher. What did they think she would do?

Her only options were to pace the room, or join Threepio at the large window overlooking the landing pads.

"Tell me again how you ended up here?" She asked the droid, desperate for something to distract herself with. 

"Oh! Of course Princess." The fussy droid turned to her, his back to the window. The hazy golden light filtering into the room gave his metal frame an amber glow.

"I was following behind everyone when I noticed another protocol droid. I tried to say hello but he was incredibly rude. Can you believe it? I of course tried to catch up with all of you, but you were all in such a rush." Threepio scolded her.

"Sorry about that Threepio." She absently answered out of a reflexive desire to get him to continue and to avoid the earlier rant on how inconsiderate their 'host' had been.

"Well, then I heard an R2 unit. I thought for sure it was R2-D2. The door was open, so I went to investigate." He gained a guilty edge to his voice, "I thought I had stumbled upon Master Luke. I'm terribly sorry Princess, I should have said something first. But I was just so excited!"

She could understand the impulse. Threepio had been surprisingly upset to be separated from Luke and Artoo. Thankfully, Luke was far away form here. Either still with the Alliance or off investigating his 'vision'. Either way, she was sure he had escaped Hoth. Vader wouldn't be here if he hadn't.

"Those little creatures wanted to melt me down for scrap!" Threepio continued narrating what had happened to him, "It took a lot of talking to convince them not to. I tried to leave and warn you all. I'm so very, very sorry Princess. I doomed us all. If only the stormtoopers hadn't-"

"What's going on down there?" She asked out loud. More for her own benefit than Threepio's, she'd just been letting his words wash over her and fill the suffocating silence.

She halted her pacing and moved to join the droid at the window. Brown eyes narrowed at the platform nearest to them. An Imperial shuttle had just landed. Stormtroopers streamed out of it, weapons drawn. 

"Oh no." Threepio fretted. "More of them. Do you think something has happened?"

"I don't know." Leia grit her teeth in frustration.

Ever since Vader had left her here there had been no sign of what was happening outside. She'd tried to listen at the door, but either there was nothing to hear or it was too thick to allow sound through.

In the distance, another shuttle landed, with more imperial troops exiting it and marching into the city. She clenched her fists, trying to push down her rising anxiety at the sight.

It reminded her of Vader's threat to Lando. That he'd leave a garrison here if Lando didn't cooperate. Perhaps Lando had done something to anger Vader? Or, what she assumed was much more likely, Vader only placated the Baron to get what he wanted. Then, when the opportunity arose, came down hard on the locals. 

It somehow surprised her how the whole galaxy didn't realize how ruthless he was. How eager to crack down on the slightest hint of lawlessness. Lando should have known that Vader did not tolerate operations like his. Especially if they could potentially harbour rebels.

Although lately Vader had been incredibly single-minded in his pursuit of the Alliance and Luke. He'd even resorted to bounty hunters, something she'd never thought he'd stoop to before. Perhaps that was why they were so caught off guard.

"Oh my. That can't be good. Is that smoke?" Threepio pointed to a spot on the far corner of the window.

Leia peered down to where he was indicating, her eyebrows rising in surprise. Had the locals finally caught on to what the Empire was doing?

A crackling noise came from the overhead speaker, followed by, "Attention! This is Lando Calrissian. The Empire has taken control of the city. I advise everyone to leave before more imperial troops arrive."

Leia rushed to the door and pressed her ear to it. She could hear the odd noise through it, but that was it. Unfortunately, it still sounded far too quiet for any of the fighting to be happening nearby.

What could have caused Lando to decide to cut his losses and run? He'd done nothing while Han and Chewie were tortured, his so called 'friends'. So what...?

Was Han alright? What about Chewie?

She spent an agonizing amount of time between the door and the window. Impotently waiting. Unable to do anything. 

There was a brief burst of excitement as the two of them watched a group of locals attempt to storm one of the imperial shuttles. Was there not enough ships for them to evacuate? This city existed only because it was too small to be noticed by either the Mining Guild or the Empire. There were most likely many people who didn't want anyone looking too closely into who they were or what they were doing.

Unfortunately, the group was quickly pushed back once more troopers emerged from the ship. If they'd been any other Imperial's troops the people may have had a chance at hijacking the ship. But these were Vader's personal troops. 

Loud noises and shouting alerted her to a commotion outside the door. She rushed over to it, pressing her ear up to it once again, the distinct sound of blaster fire coming through clearly. Over the shouts and blasts, she could hear Vader's name shouted a couple times, but that was all she was able to make out.

Then there was silence. She backed away from the door, a smile beginning to break out on her face, even as Threepio predicted doom behind her.

The door opened after a prolonged pause, to reveal Chewie's large bulk filling up most of the opening.

"Chewie!" She exclaimed, lunging forward to hug him. It felt so good to be enveloped in his large warm arms, hours worth of tension instantly bleeding away.

But she didn't allow herself to linger, quickly pulling away to greet the other person she wanted to see. Only to stop and scowl when the only other human with Chewie was the slime Lando.

"Where's Han? And what are you doing with him?" She asked Chewie.

"There's no time to explain, we need to get out of here." Lando barely looked her way, attention split, looking up and down the corridor. Scattered outside her door were the bodies of four stormtroopers, guards Vader had apparently left.

"Chewie?" She asked, ignoring Lando.

Chewie roared mournfully, and motioned for her to follow him.

"A bounty hunter has him? Oh no! How did that happen?" Threepio answered, following her out the door.

"What! Then we need to go rescue him!" Leia protested, reaching down to grab one of the stormtrooper's rifles.

"We tried!" Lando cried, frustration in his voice. "We'll be the ones needing to be rescued if we don't get out of here!"

Leia looked to Chewie for confirmation, and clenched her jaw when he nodded sadly. 

"And who's fault is that!" She stood and snapped back at the man.

Chewie put a comforting paw on her shoulder, steering her in the direction Lando was already walking. She briefly allowed herself to be led, trusting that Chewie knew what he was doing, while Threepio followed her, bringing up the rear.

She was about to demand more answers but was distracted by Threepio's joyous cry of, "R2-D2! Where did you come from?"

"Artoo! Luke's here?" She demanded, spinning to see the little astromech trailing behind them. She blinked hard, starting to feel a little overwhelmed. First Han, now Luke? Why was Luke even here? He shouldn't be here!

Artoo let out a bunch of frustrated beeps and whistles as they made their way down the hall. It was otherwise oddly quiet, given the blaster fire and smoke she'd spied through the window.

"He went to see Darth Vader!" Threepio exclaimed, and Leia stumbled.

No. He wouldn't. She held back a groan. Why was he being so reckless? After all his harping on her own past recklessness! And besides that, how could he have possibly known where they were!

Unless... they'd been nothing more than bait for Luke. Had Vader somehow gotten a message out to Luke? She thought they'd agreed, no more suicidal revenge attempts against him unless victory was assured! Walking into a trap was not part of their agreement!

Threepio started to continue, for she was too stunned to get any words out, when a strange stutter burst out of him, "The make-ake-ake. That's won-on-on!" 

Everyone frowned at the droid. It wasn't like Threepio to glitch out like that. For all his many quirks, she had never seen this to happen to him. He was surprisingly hardy for an old droid. 

Lando incredulously voiced her thoughts, "What's wrong with your droid?" 

Leia snapped, "You tell me. He's been acting strange ever since your people did something to him." Not willing to let someone like him criticize Threepio.

A suspicion that had been nagging at her since Vader had silently marched her into the cell reared its head once more. Had the Empire done something to Threepio while he was missing? His earlier exclamation about Luke going to fight Vader had almost sounded... happy? And he'd been weirdly upset when Leia was sure they were about to be rescued.

"Hey, I didn't order them to mess with your droid. Wasn't he missing?" Lando asked, leading them cautiously around a corner into a more open room.

Leia heard Artoo shriek at Threepio followed by a, "No need to be so rude!" by Threepio. 

Unfortunately she didn't have time to pay the mystery anymore attention, as Lando flinched back, barely dodging blaster fire. A small squadron of stormtroopers blocked their path.  She'd deal with the oddly behaving droid once they were safely back on the Falcon. Between Artoo and Chewie, they should be able to fix whatever was done to him.

"How far is it to the Falcon?" She asked Chewie while crouching and firing around the corner.

"Too far." Lando grumbled.

Chewie growled threateningly at him, firing over Leia's head.

"Hey, I agreed to help-" The caped man protested, having backed up behind them and was now frantically trying to access a terminal nearby.

"And why are you helping?" Leia grit out, barely keeping a hold on her temper. There were too many of the stormtroopers ahead, more had joined the initial squad. A surprisingly high number of them. In fact, were they the very same troopers she'd seen get off the shuttles?

"I was promised they wouldn't hurt any of you, Vader didn't care about you at all! I didn't know what they were going to do with Han! I never would have agreed- Dammit!" He slammed a fist into the terminal. "Not even the emergency codes are working! We'll have to take the long way."

...

Threepio followed behind the organics in a state of constant worry. In a situation like this he'd be worrying anyway, he hated being caught in a fire fight. But now he had a brand-new reason to be agitated.

+++Priority Protocol: Failed+++

He'd failed his Maker. He'd been told not to let her leave the room and was powerless to stop her when she did.

Being distracted by Artoo was no excuse. He needed to figure out some way of contacting the Maker and telling him where they were.

It was difficult though, what with Artoo now suspicious of him. The little rust bucket was upset and thought Threepio defective. The nerve! When the golden droid was feeling the best he had in decades.

Maybe he should not have sounded so overjoyed at the news that the other of the Maker's children, Master Luke, was here. But how could he not be?

"I'm telling you, my circuits are functioning just fine!" Threepio hurried to keep up to the fast moving organics. Artoo spat at him in reply.

"How dare you!" Threepio gasped, "Just because the sub-par repairs of that hairy brute," Threepio waved at Chewbacca ahead of them, "were properly fixed doesn't mean I'm defective!"

The group ahead of them took a sharp turn into a dark opening.

Threepio blindly followed the organics, "Oh! Are we taking a shortcut?" He asked.

Some of the little organics who Threepio had encountered earlier were scurrying up and down the industrial area. With all the shooting going on in the main halls, the little organics were surprisingly calm. They were neither helping nor hindering their group. In fact, the small organics completely ignored them as they rushed around protruding pipes.

"Does that droid ever shut up?" The new organic with fuzz above his lip asked the Princess.

Artoo whistled beside him, disparagingly.

Threepio smacked him on the dome, "Watch your language!"

"Just shut up and lead the way." Princess Leia snapped at the man. "Are you sure they won't be able to cut us off?"

"We'll end up very close to the Falcon. They won't be expecting us from this angle, so we should be able to get the drop on them." Lando explained to her.

"Should." She muttered, following the dark skinned organic.

Threepio wasn't sure why she was being so antagonistic to him. Maybe it had something to do with the stormtroopers?

They ran through the dark industrial area for so long, Threepio was glad once again for his Maker's repairs. He hadn't been able to move this fast in... in... well he'd forgotten it was even possible! Artoo of course noticed.

Oh how Threepio wished he could share with the little droid the good news. But his Maker had been very explicit. Whenever Threepio tried to tell Artoo about how lucky they were to have spent the last two years protecting the Maker's children, a new protocol stopped him.

+++Protocol: Keep Quiet+++Enabled+++

He couldn't even tell Artoo about the rocket boosters he used to have! Surely the blue astromech would be ecstatic to hear about those at least. Though he'd probably get into even more trouble if he still had them... maybe Threepio wouldn't mention it.

Anyway, Threepio had to stay focused. He needed to find a way to prevent them from leaving the city. The Maker will be so disappointed in him if they did. And why couldn't he tell Princess Leia the truth? Surely she'd stay once he told her the happy news. Organics placed such a high importance on who they were created from, after all.

"Carbonite!" The Princess shouted from next to Lando, Threepio looked her way just in time to see her swing her rifle and hit him in the shoulder. Her next words were hissed, "And you went along with it!"

"I had no choice!" Lando replied, "And my people assured me he'd survive it."

"Oh I feel real reassured." The Princess sneered.

Chewbacca let out a mournful cry.

"Don't worry Chewie," she said. "We'll get him back from that bounty hunter."

Chewbacca agreed, and then said something that Threepio couldn't believe.

"What do you mean he wanted to abandon the Princess here!?" Threepio never would have failed the Maker if they had! Why did they change their minds? Everything would have been perfect if they'd just left them in that safe room.

Chewbacca growled threateningly at Lando. While the Princess glared.

"I didn't think we'd make it in time! And we almost didn't!" He answered Chewbacca then turned to explain to the Princess, "Vader wants you. I don't know what changed," his frustration at the Maker evident even to Threepio, "He only cared about Skywalker when he got here."

Leia replied, "Of course he wants me. You do know the Empire has a bounty on my head."

"I... no... It seemed more than that," The man muttered. He sounded a little disgruntled, but Threepio couldn't be sure.

Any continuation of the conversation was halted when the man said, "We're here." 

They all slowed to a stop next to a small side door. Perfect size for one of the Ugnauts still working behind them, they seemed to not care that the city was under attack, but it would be a tight fit for Chewbacca.

"They'll be guarding the ship. Ready?" He asked. Her Highness and the Wookiee nodded grimly.

"Must we go out there? We'll be-" Threepio tried to stop them, but was ignored.

The quiet of the cramped maintenance tunnel was broken when the door opened, revealing the bright white halls of the city. People were running every which way, some carrying supplies, others exchanging fire with stormtroopers.

It was complete chaos.

Ahead of them, a bunch of troopers were guarding a large hatch to one of the landing pads. Most of their backs were to them as they fired on other organics. Threepio hid with Artoo in the dark tunnel as the others went out and began to fire on the Imperials.

"Artoo! Get over here and open the door!" The Princess commanded, as soon as they'd forced the stormtroopers to retreat. Threepio followed the little droid, fretting internally all the way. How was he going to stop the Maker's daughter from escaping? He had to do something! But he also couldn't put her in danger! What was a droid to do?

Threepio stumbled into the side of the door in his haste, forcing Artoo away from the terminal. Maybe he could stall them?

But the blue droid was quick to bring out his electric prod, forcing Threepio to get out of his way with an indignant, "It was an accident you little grease ball."

"There's too many of them!" The hair-lip organic shouted.

"Hurry Artoo!" The Princess implored, while Chewbacca roared his frustration.

"Maybe we should just surrender. The odds of us escaping this many Imperials are-"

Artoo chirped suspiciously at him.

"What do you mean 'whose side am I on?' The Princess' of course!" Threepio was so frustrated he couldn't tell Artoo. It would make all of this suspicion go away. Together, the two of them could keep her safe. She was bound to get shot at this rate, or maybe even deactivated!

"What are you talking about?" Threepio was distracted from his worry by Artoo whistling at him. "We're not interested in the hyperdrive of the Millennium Falcon." 

And then Artoo told him. The hyperdrive had been sabotaged by the Empire. 

"Oh." Threepio sighed in relief. Then berated Artoo to try and cover it up, "Just open the door, you stupid lump." At this rate, the Princess was sure to get injured. It was much safer if they could hide out on the Millennium Falcon.

+++Highest Priority: Keep Princess Leia Safe+++

Screams in the distance had him looking away from Artoo for a moment. At the farthest end of the large room, people were running away from a dark shape. Some were sent flying through the air when they didn't move fast enough, feeding the rest of the crowd's panic.

"Is that Vader!?" Lando cried, his voice high-pitched in shock.

Threepio focused his optical receptors to compensate for the poor lighting in that direction. The dark shape was gaining form, striding towards them, a red glow at its side. 
We're saved! He tried to cry out loud, but was stopped from doing so.

+++Protocol: Keep Quiet+++Enabled+++

If Threepio could have sagged in relief at the sight of his Maker, he would have. Unfortunately, there were a lot of hostile organics between the Maker and them. Would he be able to reach them and protect her? Maybe Threepio should take the chance and prevent Artoo from opening the door.

Decision made, Threepio placed a hand on the small droid's head to push him away from the terminal. But he was too late.

With a triumphant whistle, the door slid open. At the same time Lando cried out, hit by a well aimed bolt and fell to the ground. The Princess was at his side immediately, checking him over.

"They're trying to stun us!" She cried. "Chewie, take him and run, I'll cover you!"

Artoo laid down a cloud of fog, obscuring their dash to the Falcon. Threepio did his best to keep up, unsure what to do now. With the hyperdrive sabotaged, surely they wouldn't escape. The odds were at least 1,540 to 1!

Chewbacca carried Lando up into the ship, the boarding ramp already lowered, followed by Threepio and Artoo. Threepio hung back once he'd reached the top, anxious to make sure the Princess made it to the ship uninjured, while the engine began to hum to life around them.

Princess Leia was not far behind, thankfully, running half backwards up the ramp, shooting blindly into the fog. As soon as she was level with them she hit the button to close it and rushed to the cockpit, barely sparing Threepio and Artoo a glance.

As the ramp began to rise, Threepio registered the dark shape racing through the fog Artoo had laid down. He did a quick calculation. The Maker wouldn't make it in time. What should he do? With the hyperdrive still broken, there really was nothing to be concerned about. The Maker wouldn't lose the Princess. 

But... the Maker clearly wanted to join them on the ship. And Princess Leia was now safe from all the blaster fire that had been flying around. Surely there was no harm? Threepio stepped closer to the ramp and reached for the boarding ramp's controls.

Artoo was bewildered for only a moment, before he screeched, pulling out his electric prod, and rushed to stop him.

...

Leia frantically ran past a stunned Lando, Chewie had left him slumped on the ground just inside the cockpit, to join Chewie at the controls. She threw herself into the co-pilot's seat, quickly helping him get the ship off the ground.

Her heart was pounding a mile a minute, her hands almost shaking with all the adrenaline coursing through her. That had been so close. Too close. Vader had been right on her heels. And what had he been doing there! Surely Luke was his focus, this whole thing had been a trap for him after all. But then...

She shook off the memory of his strange actions in the interrogation room. What had happened to Luke? Did he escape? Was he captured? She had no idea and the uncertainty was eating away at her. But she couldn't do anything about that now. She had to focus on what she could do.

The ship shook slightly, Tie fighters pursuing them from the city, "Chewie! How are the deflector shields?"

Chewie growled back, but she couldn't tell if that was a bad news growl or just frustration. Where was Threepio, she couldn't understand Shyriiwook as well as was needed in a situation like this.

Tie fighters rained down blaster fire on top of the ship, trying to prevent their climb into the upper atmosphere. Only some quick dodging from Chewie kept them from succeeding.

More Tie fighters descended, forcing Chewie to spin the ship to avoid a collision. Lando, not being strapped in, slammed into the panels behind Chewie. Leia only managed to stay where she was by bracing herself. Behind them in the ship, she heard Artoo let out an ear-piercing screech.

A sharp curse signalled Lando waking from the stun blast. Being flung into a wall can do that to a person. Both Chewie and her seemed to be on the same wave length when it came to Lando; little to no sympathy for the man who put them in this position in the first place.

Chewie frantically pointed to one of the terminals, while she tried to understand what he meant.

"What? The deflector-"

Chewie interrupted her with a frustrated bark, slamming a paw into the side of the navi-computer.

"Right." She brought her focus to the task at hand, unused to being the person in this position. Usually it was Han or Luke who helped Chewie in situations like this, "I'll enter in the jump coordinates." 

She should've started the calculations earlier. Some vague sense that all was not right had kept her from focusing. She'd always prided herself on how calm she was in a crisis, but she couldn't shake the uneasy sensation.

Was the feeling about Luke?

It was tight, but the deflector shields were holding, thanks to Chewie's aggressive dodging. In no time at all, they reached the upper stratosphere.

"That's no good." Lando managed to pull himself into a seat behind her, pointing to the stardestroyer that greeted them.

"It'll be fine. Assuming your people fixed the hyperdrive." She bit out at him.

The ship shook as another round of blasts rocked the ship.

"The coordinates are set. It's now or never." She told Chewie. He roared his agreement and pulled back on the light-speed throttle.

The engines wound up, about to jump and take them away to safety. She can only hope that Luke made it out on his own as well. Hopefully their own escape distracted Vader and the garrison enough.

The whine of the engines faded. And nothing happened. She reflexively gripped the edge of her seat, fury rising in an uncontrollable tide.

"They told me they fixed it." Lando rushed out before she could even turn to snarl at him. "I trusted them to fix it. It's not my fault!"

Chewie snarled and slammed a fist into the console. Her eyes followed the action, but got stuck on something that squashed the fury, and left dread pooling in its place.

"Wait." She ordered, before Chewie rightfully tore into Lando. "Chewie wait." She stopped him and pointed at the radar, showing only the stardestroyer.  

The Tie fighters had stopped chasing them. The ship had stopped shaking.

"What?" Lando asked, "Why would they-" She shushed him immediately as a sound on the edge of her hearing caused the hair on her neck to stand up. But it was impossible.

"Do you hear that?" She asked.

Her heart kicked up into overdrive. 

No.

It couldn't be.

She stood and turned to look back into the ship.

Chewie cocked his head to the side, listening. Then surged to his feet with a roar, charging back into the ship.

"Chewie wait!" she tried to stop him while Lando cried, "What's he doing?"

She rushed after him. He'd die. She couldn't lose him as well.

Leia froze at the cockpit's threshold. Chewie had stopped moving in the corridor, his roar cutting off in a strangled gurgle. Then he was raised into the air, slamming his head against the ceiling. 

No. No. No.

He was then slammed into the ground. Revealing the dark form his body had blocked from her sight, a black fist raised in the air. 

The tell-tale whoosh of an exhale is all she could hear over the ringing in her ears.

They were so close! How! How had he- The Falcon was supposed to be safe!

Her gut clenched, the world tilted, at seeing the black form of Darth Vader surrounded by the homey browns of the Millennium Falcon. The Falcon was her safe space. From both the responsibilities of the Alliance and the battles with the Empire. He shouldn't be here! How dare he take this from her as well!

"Your Highness." His deep voice greeted her. Her eyes fluttered at the sound, she took a gasping breath, having been holding her breath without even realizing it.

The red of his lightsaber igniting spurred her to action, lit in response to Chewie growling in rage, starting to get up.

"Don't hurt him!" She rushed forward, trying to put herself between the glowing blade and Chewie.

Vader paused for a long moment, the tip of his blade dangerously close to Chewie's head. "That depends entirely on you, your Highness." 

She knelt to check on her friend, who was half growling, half coughing. "Chewie. Please." Was all she said to him. Chewie shook his head at first, but when she gently put a hand on his shoulder he gave a heartbreaking little cry, and nodded his head. She looked up at Vader to see him opening and closing the hand not holding his lightsaber. A physical tick she'd never seen from him before.

"We surrender." She knows Vader well enough to tell that he is at the end of his famously short patience. The red glow of his lightsaber was sucked back into the hilt.

It was only because of her worry for Chewie, that she held back her demand for him to tell her what happened to Luke. Why he was here, when the whole point of the charade on Bespin had been to trap Luke. Had he succeeded already? Or had Luke escaped, and that was why he'd chased them down so alarmingly? 

"Good." He growled, "You will not-"

"Maker! He's in the engine room! He's trying to fix the Hyperdrive!" Threepio hobbled into view, one of his legs malfunctioning and sparking. Leia shot to her feet in alarm. Who was Threepio talking to?

"What!" Vader snarled, sounding surprisingly concerned.

"I tried to stop him, but he stunned me!" Threepio indignantly continued.

What was Threepio talking about? Who was he calling Maker? He couldn't possibly...

The black cape swirled as Vader turned in place, apparently to deal with what Threepio had just claimed. Before he could take one step, all of them were thrown back as the ship suddenly lurched to lightspeed. Threepio fell to the ground with a cry, Chewie slid along the ground, and Leia stumbled forward.

Only Vader kept his footing. Catching her before she could hit the ground, and not letting go once she'd regained her feet.

Leia turned her head to look into the cockpit, trying to wrench her arm free, but Vader's hand just tightened. At the sight of Lando at the controls, she cried out in betrayal, "Lando!" What had that idiot just done!

Lando looked back at her, hands flinching into the air, shock written all across his face, "I didn't do anything!"

"You-" She struggled to articulate just how furious she was.

"It's not my fault!" A familiar refrain, it was something that both Han and Lando had in common. 

She was getting incredibly tired of hearing it.

Chapter Text

The bounty hunter Boushh let the Gamorrean guards take Chewbacca away, as the raucous crowd cheered. The party that Boushh had interrupted with their prisoner was now back in full swing. The band picked up the song he'd so rudely disturbed. The centre of the floor, previously occupied by himself and his captive was now filled with dancing girls, to the appreciative hoots of the audience.

Boushh leaned against a column off to the side and surveyed the room. Close to the hall Chewbacca had been led, he noticed one of the skiff guards eyeing him. He tilted his head in acknowledgement and resumed scoping out the scene. However, his eyes were halted when he noticed someone with aggressive body language glaring at him.

It was Boba Fett.

Boushh casually placed his hand across the top of his blaster, almost cradling it, ready to draw at a moment's notice. Boba Fett responded with an arrogant gesture of his own. They held their poses for a long, tense moment. Just when Boushh thought he may have to fight, the other bounty hunter turned back to observing Jabba and the dancers, dismissing him as a threat.

Boushh may have been insulted at this arrogant dismissal, but instead was relieved. While ready to defend himself, he still needed to wait for the credits to be transferred. And more importantly, he had to ingratiate himself amongst Jabba's court. There could be no mistakes; he needed to be in place for when the time was right.

Boushh adjusted his stance and watched as the dancing girls twirled in a perfectly choreographed move. They were a mix of species, apparently designed to appeal to a variety of tastes. Although, it was obvious which ones The Great Jabba preferred. A young Twi'lek girl kept getting pulled into Jabba with a long chain attached to a collar on her neck. Jabba licked her grotesquely and then pushed her out to join the dancers once again.

Boushh shuddered internally at the disturbing sight.

The slaves, and they couldn't be anything other than slaves, continued to dance tirelessly for the rest of the night. He watched them occasionally, but most of his focus was on determining who the greatest threats in Jabba's Palace were. Boushh avoided interacting too closely with any of the other guests, maintaining an aloof and aggressive air.

Then, for a few nerve wracking hours, he lost sight of Boba Fett.

It was during this time that he began to wander the floor, brushing off attempts to get him to engage in conversation or drink. Along one of the walls, hanging as a centrepiece for all to admire, was a figure encased in carbonite. As casually as he could, he made his way over.

Just as he got close, almost close enough to touch, close enough to see the readings claiming the human was still alive and well, a skiff guard tapped him with the edge of his pike.

Boushh turned sharply, hand on his blaster, ready to fight the guard off, but paused at the warning look he was given. He maintained his tense, aggressive body language, for a long moment. The guard backed up and Boushh allowed himself to shrug off the encounter and move away.

As he did, he noticed Boba Fett was back, lounging against the wall across the room, body and helmet facing directly towards him.

Boushh tensed once more, for a moment afraid that he had given something away.

The tense standoff was interrupted by a broken cry from the dance floor.

Jabba and one of his dancing girls, the same one he had seen get licked over and over, were both pulling hard on the chain that was attached to her neck.

Angry, Jabba pointed to a spot next to him and ordered, "Da Eitha!"

The poor Twi'lek girl shook her head and screamed desperately, "Na Chuba negatorie Na! Na! Natoota."

Boushh couldn't help but cringe inside his mask in sympathy for the poor slave. A part of him, a large part, hoped once the plan was enacted, they could free the slaves kept in the Palace. The dancers like the Twi'lek especially.

A furious and ugly sneer formed on Jabba's face. With one hand, he yanked violently on the chain, causing the girl to stumble forward and fall to her knees. With a malicious shout, "Boscka!" he slammed his fleshy hand down on a button next to him.

The dancer let out a terrified scream and attempted to get away. But it was too late. A trap door sprung open from under her, swallowing her whole.

Jabba's throne slid forward over the trap door, so he could look into the large grate in the centre of the room. Boushh stumbled forward, caught in the press of bodies eager for one last piece of entertainment before the end of the night.

A muffled, deep growl emanated from the floor, followed by a hideous high-pitched scream. Boushh couldn't see what was happening exactly, but cringed at what he heard.

All around him, sweaty bodies pressed close together, the guests of Jabba cheering and laughing with the giant disgusting slug. Boushh managed to push his way to the back of the crowd. In their eagerness to push forward, it didn't take much effort to find himself on the edge.

He grimaced beneath his mask at the sight before him, stomach roiling in disgust.

No wonder Luke had dreaded returning to his home planet.

Chewbacca huddled in the corner of his cell, deep in the dungeon of Jabba's Palace, miserable. He'd hated this part of the plan, to have to once more pretend to give up his freedom. It was for Han, and only for Han, that he had agreed to this.

If all was going well, Leia should be freeing Han any moment now. And once joined by Lando, they'd be coming down to get him out of this dark, dank, death filled place. Hopefully little Han would not be suffering too badly from the hibernation sickness that Lando had warned them about.

The sounds of footsteps had him backing up as far from the door and into the corner. It better not be another guard come to poke him with their pike. He'd ripped the last one from the guard and stabbed him with it. He hoped they'd learned their lesson.

The footsteps stopped before his heavy metal door. With a high-pitched whine, the door slowly creaked open and a shivering human figure was thrown into his cell. The guard quickly slammed the door shut, rightfully fearful of the Wookiee within.

Chewie growled menacingly at the guard and grinned in satisfaction at their fear. The human jumped back against the cell door in fright.

Only a thin sliver of light shone through a crack in the door, making it difficult to see who had just been thrown in with him. Their smell was all muddled; all he was able to get was a hint of earth and the tang of strong chemicals. He growled at the unknown.

"Chewie? Chewie, is that you?" The human hesitantly asked.

Joy shot through him and he let out a yell of delight. Chewbacca rushed forward to envelop his human in a crushing hug, lifting the small Han off the ground in his excitement.

Han was alive! Han was ok! He hadn't failed him!

"Ah! Chew-Chewie!" Han complained, but he paid it no attention, barking his glee at seeing Han again.

"Wait. I can't see, pal. What's goin' on?"

Eager to tell Han the plan, Chewie reassured him not to worry. If Leia's role in the plan had failed, there was still Luke waiting in the wings to bargain with Jabba or break them out as needed. There was no need to worry.

"Luke? Luke's crazy. He can't even take care of himself, much less rescue anybody."

A little put out on young Luke's behalf, Chewie barked at Han that Luke was different now, he was a Jedi Knight.

"A… Jedi Knight? I- I'm out of it for a little while, everybody gets delusions of grandeur."

Chewie was a bit disappointed by Han's lack of faith, but understood his concern. He growled insistently, he knew a Jedi when he saw one. Han didn't need to worry. They would save them, their friends had come to save him.

Overcome, Chewie pulled Han close to his chest. He'd come so close to losing Han. So very close. He began to pet Han's head, as he hadn't in a very long time, not since the early days of their partnership when Han had risked everything for him. But Han was still so young, and he'd almost lost him.

"I'm all right, pal. I'm all right."

It had been Leia's job to get Han out of the carbonite and free him from Jabba's palace.

Instead, here she was. In the same position that poor dancer had been in. Now she too was dressed in a metal bikini that left little to the imagination. Around her neck, a metal collar sat uncomfortably. A long chain ran down the length of her body, through a ring in front of Jabba, and ending in his slimy hand.

She had been forced to lay along the length of the giant slug, some thin pillows the only barrier between herself and the disgusting being.

It's been over a day, what is taking Luke so long? She thought forlornly.

She'd been forced to stay at Jabba's side all day, watching as he held court over his 'empire' and punishing those that disobeyed him. Jabba was all too eager to consign someone to a gruesome death. He never seemed to tire of it. Except, of course, when there was a new shipment of spice to taste test.

Thankfully, there was no party that night. Jabba was still displeased that he had lost his favourite wall decoration. And she felt vindicated for that small revenge.

Unfortunately, that meant she was his new favourite toy.

He hadn't sent her off to learn how to dance with the other slaves yet, but it was only a matter of time. Her skin crawled at the thought. The memory of that dancing Twi'lek a sobering reminder of what he would do if he lost interest in her.

Where is Luke?

She stared out at Jabba's court through half lidded eyes, scanning the crowd. Most of them were lounging around, smoking or sampling the various drugs the crime lord had on offer. Jabba himself was smoking from a large steam hookah, exhaling bulbous clouds of smoke that had her wrinkling her nose at the tangy smell.

Movement caught her eye, out of place amongst the lounging, sleepy atmosphere. The bounty hunter Boba Fett, who she feared was the one who had figured out she was not really Boushh, entered the throne room and moved to stand near the exit. She mentally frowned, trying to eye him discreetly.

A pair of loud squeals, echoing down the long hallway to the throne room, disturbed the calm.

Leia let out a breath of relief, Luke was finally here.

Most of Jabba's court did not stir at the squeals of fear and pain. At least not until Bib Fortuna, Jabba's groveling sycophant, ran into the room. He rushed to Jabba's side and urgently whispered something to him. Leia strained her ears to hear, but her Huttese was not nearly good enough.

She did, however, understand what was said next.

Jabba's angry, "What!?" startled her enough to flinch, "What is he doing here!?"

Bib Fortuna frantically began to speak again, too fast for her to follow. She couldn't stop the small smile forming on her face. At last. Soon she would get out of this degrading outfit and could block the whole disgusting episode from her mind.

Those beings on the edge of the room, lounging on large cushions or seated in the semi-private alcoves sat up in interest. Some looked concerned, others seemed to think some entertainment was on its way. Only the other bounty hunters in the room began to stand, perhaps in response to Boba Fett's alert pose.

She focused her eyes on the entrance to the throne room, eager to see Luke. In the gloom, what looked like a hooded figure emerged from the hall, marching purposefully towards the short steps down to Jabba's throne room.

But… the shape was all wrong. Far too big to be Luke, and they carried themselves with a far more aggressive gait.

A cold dread began to pool in her stomach. If it wasn't Luke, what had caused Jabba's reaction?

As the figure marched forward, the cloak flared open to reveal little lights blinking at chest level. A silent hush fell over the room. Into that quiet, a sound whispered that sent shivers down her spine.

The steady inhale and exhale of a respirator.

Leia stared dumbly, unable to believe what she was seeing, who she was seeing. Everything else in the room faded away, her sight narrowing to the black figure striding towards her.

What is he doing here!? She internally screamed, for the first time in full agreement with her current captor.

Where's Luke? Is this why he hasn't followed the plan? Has Vader done something to him?

Fear for Luke gripped her as well as worry over how their carefully laid plans, of which they were already on Plan C, would be even further disrupted. She sat up, hand instinctively searching for a blaster.

Frustration flushed her face, when her hand met nothing but bare skin, and she remembered she wasn't in her Boushh disguise anymore. No, because of her carelessness, she was a powerless slave dancer. She gripped the chain lying limply over her legs until her knuckles turned white.

This was not how she'd imagined her next meeting with him would go. She desperately hoped that he wouldn't recognize her.

"Oh my! That's Darth Vader! We're doomed!" Threepio cried, announcing himself to the room.

Leia couldn't suppress the slight wince at his overly loud tone. Threepio stood to the left of Jabba's throne, in the spot usually held by Bib Fortuna, who was now harshly whispering to Threepio.

Jabba growled something in Huttese and then shifted into his usual pompous cadence. Leia hunched into herself slightly, tilting her head down to try and partially hide her face. She could feel Jabba's body shift as he gestured with his hands, while the tip of his tail, tucked behind her thigh, began to twitch.

"Oh, right. Right." Threepio worried, clearly gathering himself and remembering his role of translator. "The Great Jabba bids you welcome L-Lord," Threepio stuttered as Darth Vader came to a stop in the centre of the throne room, over the large observation grate, "Lord Vader, and welcomes you to his illustrious Palace. However, he wonders, to what does he owe the honour of your visit?"

"You know why I am here, Jabba." Vader replied, his hated voice booming in the hushed, dark room. On the periphery, Leia could hear some of the court discreetly trying to shuffle out of the room, while others shifted to have their weapons more easily at hand.

Threepio had barely finished translating before Jabba spat, "Bah!" and spoke in his slow rolling Huttese.

Threepio translated, "The Great Jabba does not have, nor does he have any interest in, the one you seek, Lord Vader."

Leia's hands spasmed on the chain painfully, wide eyes fixed on Vader. He was here looking for Luke? Did he know Luke was on the planet?

"But he is here, on Tatooine." Vader's helm seemed to tilt down and stare right at her. Oh no, had she just drawn his attention to her? Did he recognize her? "And will soon arrive. You would do well to turn him over to me when he does…"

Leia closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, pressing her lips together. He must have known they'd come here for Han. Had he been waiting for a report that they were here? His timing was too suspicious otherwise.

The fleshy sack behind her rumbled in what she'd learned to mean anger. It often precipitated a gruesome death. She looked at Vader again, and a faint hope rose in her breast. Would Jabba do to Vader what he had done to others who displeased him? All it would take was a few steps forward, and he'd be standing on Jabba's trap door. Whatever creature Jabba kept down there may not kill Vader, but it could only be to their advantage to have Vader and Jabba against each other.

"My Master does not believe the boy would dare challenge the Mighty Jabba, Lord Vader." Threepio translated, his voice a stark contrast to Jabba's threatening rumble.

"You underestimate his abilities at your peril, Hutt." Vader replied, ominously. He shifted his stance, resting his hands on his belt. It was a deceptively relaxed pose that could also be taken as a threat, given it made his lightsaber closer to hand.

"What can the boy do? The Jedi are no more." Threepio translated, though Leia wondered if he'd missed some nuance, given Vader's response. Her understanding of the language was far too basic, a few months too short a time to gain more than the necessities.

Leia didn't think it was possible, but Vader's voice was pitched even lower than normal when he said, "He is no Jedi."

An unnatural shiver ran through her at his words. Was he still staring at her? Did he know who she was? The uncertainty was beginning to eat away at her. Were he any other Imperial, she'd feel relatively safe assuming their eyes would slide right over her as just another slave. And even if that didn't distract them, the revealing outfit would. But with Vader...

The warm flesh behind her began to shake, "Ho ho ho ho ho."

Leia turned her head slightly, taking her eyes off Vader for the first time, at a high pitched squeak to her left. The slug had reached into the bowl next to the throne, taking out one of what he called his 'snacks'. Her lip curled in disgust as he ate the live creature behind her.

Once finished, he spoke, gesturing grandly. Threepio translated, "The Great Jabba is glad to hear so. But there have been rumours that this boy evaded you for years. What will he get in return for helping you?"

Leia expected Vader to say something threatening like 'your life.' But he did not even twitch from his relaxed pose.

"I'm sure you will find him... entertaining." The weight of Vader's stare seemed to intensify, though she had no explanation on why she thought so. She merely raised her chin slightly in defiance, while the chain continued to cut into her hands.

Jabba let out a delighted laugh, the happiest she'd heard him in all her time here. The closest he'd gotten was watching the dancer he'd fed to his pet on the day she arrived.

"Then the Great Jabba bids you welcome, friend. He hopes you enjoy his hospitality until then."

Vader turned away, as if he planned to leave, and Leia let out a sigh of relief. Was he rejecting Jabba's hospitality? If he left, they might still have a chance of escaping. As long as Lando and the droids' cover remained intact, and Luke was still free, there was a chance this could still work. They'd just need to leave in a much greater hurry than originally anticipated.

Leia stiffened when a meaty hand landed on her shoulder and the faintly slimy hand began petting her. From the top of her shoulder, down her side and ending on her thigh, the meaty hand repeated the motion. She didn't bother trying to contain her disgust, shifting slightly in a failed attempt to avoid the next stroke.

"The Great Jabba asks if you do not like his new… oh my, I'm terribly sorry… new little pet, Lord Vader?" Threepio asked, halting Vader at the base of the steps leading out of the smoke-hazed room. He half turned back to Jabba, giving the slug his attention.

Jabba sneered, "She still needs some... breaking in." Threepio translated.

Leia pressed her lips together to suppress her indignation and tried to stamp down her growing desire to lash out at Jabba. She was getting more and more fed up with forcing herself to put up with his behaviour.

With a flick of his tail, Jabba roughly pushed Leia off his platform. She landed in the dust with an angry squawk, the rough surface digging into her bare hands and knees. Trapped between Vader and Jabba, she didn't know who to turn more of her attention to: the largest threat to both the Alliance and Luke, or to the one holding the other end of the chain.

"She was caught trying to steal his most prized decoration." Threepio translated.

"Do you even know who this is, Jabba?" Vader asked, crossing his arms. The tone was one she recognized, although she hated that she knew him well enough to tell, but Vader sounded supremely unimpressed.

In the end, it was no real choice. Leia stood and faced Vader, fists clenched and face white. Now it was painfully obvious. He knew who she was. The faint hope that she'd be spared the humiliation completely crushed.

She had no time to wonder why he'd almost left her here, as Jabba's prisoner, for hadn't he wanted her as his prisoner all those months ago on Bespin?

"Ho, ho, ho," Jabba laughed and then gave what sounded like a sharp order followed by a slight tug on her chain. Leia brought a hand up and gripped the chain where it connected to her collar, grimacing, barely able to stay on her feet.

"The Mighty Jabba bids you to dance for the esteemed guest of the Empire. Oh I'm so very, very sorry." Threepio apologized, obviously very distressed, his tone a sharp contrast to the tone Jabba had used.

Leia whirled on Jabba, face red, almost too angry to think straight. "I will not!" Of all the humiliating acts she'd had to endure in the last 24 hours, dancing for Darth Vader's amusement was beyond her endurance.

Jabba scowled at her, yanking so hard on the chain she stumbled towards him, choking at the sudden pressure on her throat. Her other hand flew to the taunt chain, needing both to pull back and give herself some slack around the neck. Around her, the crowd cheered and jeered, enjoying the fresh entertainment she was providing them.

The mutual pulling on the chain was familiar. It reminded her of the poor green Twi'lek refusing to join him on his throne. She now had the beginnings of true understanding of why the slave had rebelled. After a day of being pawed at and licked, she had already had enough. Jabba continued to growl at her, and she bared her teeth at him in a snarl.

There was no way she was going to let Jabba enact any of his grotesque desires. Not in front of him. Bile coated the back of her throat at the thought. She refused!

Jabba took one hand off the chain and raised it in a familiar gesture.

Leia's eyes widened and panic briefly overtook her. She looked down, only now realizing what she was standing over. She wasn't strong enough to pull against Jabba's iron grip, so she couldn't back up off the trap door. Her only option was to get closer to him, and submit.

If she wanted to live to see Han free, she needed to swallow her pride and do it. Even if the thought of what was being asked of her made her want to crawl into a corner and throw up. If it was just Jabba and his cronies, she'd have barely hesitated to do as Jabba asked. None of these creatures knew her, and she'd never see any of them again.

"Jabba, I will accept your hospitality, if you give her to me." Vader intoned behind her.

Leia glanced over her bare shoulder at his impassive form. He still had his arms crossed and was only half turned towards her, affecting an air of indifference. But if that was the case, why was he only now showing any actual interest in her?

"Ho Ho!" The slug laughed, "Are you interested in this one, Lord Vader?" Threepio translated.

She should do it, she knew she should do it. Vader has already seen her at her worst. Had orchestrated many of those very incidents. But... she'd never had to humiliate herself in this way before.

"Your Master demands you dance for him, pretty thief." Jabba licked his disgusting lips at her as Threepio translated.

Her hands started to shake. Not out of terror, though perhaps that would be the more sane response. No. She was furious. She couldn't believe she'd been put in this position. Vader at her back, watching a new level of humiliation, while this disgusting slug, who'd chained and collared her, demanded she dance for him.

The whole room was silent now, hushed in the same way it had been after she'd revealed the thermal detonator as Boushh. Only at that time she'd held the power, and the lowlifes had been afraid for their lives. This time the air was filled with a bloodthirsty anticipation, and she was the powerless one.

Then Jabba laughed, and the tension broke as his cronies laughed along with him. He waved one of the other dancers over, and tugged her closer to him.

Leia grimaced but internally sighed in relief. Someone else would dance for him. Good. Some of the tension left her shoulders.

"The Mighty Jabba can be generous, he will send her to a private room while you wait for the boy," As Threepio translated for him, Jabba reached over to grab another one of the live 'snacks' he enjoyed. The little creature squirmed in his fat, slimy hand, screeching in distress. Just as he let go to drop it into his mouth, the little animal twisted in his grip and landed next to him. Before it could escape, his hand shot out and crushed it against the side of his throne.

"Jabba-" Vader began to say, when the floor dropped out from under her.

Hands desperately scrabbling for anything to halt her fall, the trapdoor swallowed her as it had the dancer before her, the long chain slithering after her. Jabba's surprised and delighted laugh booming over her scream of rage.

"You fool!" She was just able to hear Vader yell before she hit the ground, legs crumpling to break her fall.

She rolled on the uneven ground, pain shooting up one of her legs. The rough rocks cut into her bare skin, leaving shallow gashes on her arms and legs. She instinctively covered her head with her arms, as the long chain fell in a cascade all around her.

As soon as it was safe, she lurched to her knees, eyes flying around her, searching for an immediate threat.

Bones littered the edges of the rocky pit, as if they'd been swept carelessly to the side. The walls were roughly cut into the brown rock, leaving dark cavities where no light reached. The only notable feature was the far wall, which was sheer metal.

A doorway of some kind?

Her eyes froze on the chain of the dancer from yesterday. Caught between a few of the rough cut rocks along the wall, it was the only evidence of the poor girl who'd tried to hide among them.

Leia took a deep breath when nothing moved to attack her. But instantly regretted it, bringing a hand to cover her nose. The pit stank of death.

The large metal door stayed closed, while muffled shouting came from above. Off to the left of the door, she noticed a small hole she could likely fit through, but she could see from where she crouched that it was blocked by a metal grate.

Leia struggled onto her feet, wincing when she tried to put too much pressure on her left foot. Great. She reached down to feel along her shin. No sign of a brake, but most likely she had fractured or sprained something. Her luck was just fabulous today.

Luke was too far away to help her. And she didn't want him here anyway, not with Darth Vader above. Had she really come all this way, been so close to saving Han, only to die here? After all her close calls with the Empire, would it really be here, at the hands of some outer rim gangster, that she'd die?

While all the previous victims were terrified in her position, all she could feel was fury.

A screech had her looking up. The metal door began to open, slowly revealing enormous clawed hands. Each long finger was almost as long as she was tall. The beast sniffed through the large slits of its nose, scenting the air for blood.

Faced with the creature that she'd only been able to hear when the dancer was fed to it, some of her fury bled away, replaced with a gut churning dread. How was she possibly going to escape a Rancor?

Only one thing was certain in her mind, as the metal door finished rising, revealing the creature's towering form, unlike the others who fell into this pit, she'd go out fighting.

Blaster fire and screams from above almost drew her attention away from the lumbering beast, but she couldn't afford any distraction. She reached for a large bone nearby, and shattered it on a jagged rock, creating just enough of a point she might be able to injure the creature. But where to strike?

Above her, a familiar humming sound almost made her look up. She backed up, as the bipedal creature took a lurching step forward.

A scream from above made it look up and, worried there was a new threat on its way, she glanced up as well, just in time to see the metal observation gate come hurtling down into the pit. A black shape was riding it, quickly materializing into the last person she would ever expect.

"What?" She croaked.

Darth Vader, cloak swirling in the dust kicked up by his entrance, stood between her and the Rancor. Blood-red lightsaber shining brightly in the poorly lit pit.

Why?! She gaped at him in shock. She didn't understand. What reason could he possibly have to interfere? Hadn't he just made a deal with Jabba for Luke? None of it made any sense!

He didn't raise his lightsaber as the Rancor took a shuddering step towards them. Did nothing to give any indication that he was worried, or would even defend himself.

"Well, Jabba?" He called up to the now silent audience hall. "Have you decided?"

Jabba yelled something down in Huttese, but without Threepio, she had no idea what it meant.

"So be it." But apparently Vader did.

He still kept his lightsaber at his side, while the Rancor took another step towards them. All he did was raise his free hand, and the Rancor choked. It began to give great heaving hacks and coughs, rubbing at it's throat.

Leia took a step back, dropping the bone, quietly trying to gather the lengths of her chain so it looped around one of her arms. She may not know why Vader was here, stopping her from being eaten, but she would do her best to take advantage of it.

The Rancor stumbled forward, whimpering in distress.

Vader casually swept to the side, raised his sabre horizontal to the ground, and cut one of its legs off at the knees. Had she not already borne witness to the nonchalant way he did what others considered impossible, Leia might have been frozen in shock. Instead, her eyes frantically looked for a way to escape. She would not be his captive again!

The Rancor fell to the ground with a pained shriek, the cry so high-pitched that she almost missed her one chance of escape to cover her ears. For its body had fallen between the black nightmare and herself. And beyond the bulk of its thrashing body, she could see a small, human sized door.

She ran for the opening the Rancor had come from, her thin silk boots providing no protection from the uneven ground, limping due to her injured leg, desperate to reach it.

Its uninjured leg jerked to the side as it continued to struggle to breathe, blocking her path. She lunged away from it, barely squeezing between a clawed toe and the rough wall, scrapping her shoulder as she went.

Adrenaline continued to numb the pain in her injured leg, and she made it to the door just as it was opened from the outside. A crying Gamorrean pushed her aside in its haste to get by her, almost sending her to her knees. She hissed in pain, but managed to force her way past the hunched human who tried to follow.

A gurgled moan was the last noise she heard as she escaped the pit, and into the underground hallway.

The whole area was in chaos, some Gamorreans were running towards the Rancor pit, while others were running away. She tried to join a group pushing their way out, but her chain fell from her arm in the pushing and shoving. She snarled and tried to wrap it back around her arm. Her motions were frantic, each loop she regained a struggle as the length kept getting stepped on.

High pitched screams came from behind her, followed by the hum of a lightsaber. More guards rushed to escape the same way she was limping, pushing her into the wall in their haste.

The chain slipped from her fingers, and she was forced to leave it, there was no time to collect it if she wanted to escape. Using the wall as support as she ran with the crowd.

A sharp, sideways tug on her collar came out of nowhere, pulling her off her feet. Her choked cry was cut off by the pressure of the collar, as she was dragged across the ground. Scraped and bloody hands immediately gripped the taut chain to try and take the pressure off, unable to take a full breath.

Then the pulling stopped. She lay there for a moment gasping into the dirty floor for air.

The area around her cleared. The squeals of the Gamorreans fading.

A black boot entered her field of vision, the chain gaining enough slack to finally let her take a proper breath.

She looked up to see Darth Vader holding the end of her chain in a black fist, his still lit lightsaber giving him a bloody glow.

Leia swallowed down her fear, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

Instead, she scowled.

Chapter Text

Leia Solo: The Last Princess of Alderaan, Imperial Senator of the Galactic Empire, General of the Alliance to Restore the Republic, Senator and Vice-Chancellor of the New Republic, and General of the Resistance. For all her many titles, she had never felt like a failure as much as she had when her son turned on his uncle and all she held dear.

Many questions had plagued her since that day, the most heartbreaking one being: What could I have done differently?

She’d formed the Resistance and continued the never-ending task of making the Galaxy a safer place, burying her fractured heart in the never ending work. That her two anchors had fled, not long after the incident, had left her adrift. Now there was no one to tell her to stop and eat, to get some much needed sleep, or remind her to let others share the burden.

With her brother gone, there was no one to answer her most pressing questions. How had her son done it? How could he even bring himself to kill his fellow students? How could he turn his back on family?

What was it about the Dark Side of the Force that drew him in?

When it became clear that her family would not be returning, too lost in their own grief and their own search for answers, she decided she would be on her own. She scoured old documents on Jedi that had been recovered when the New Republic was established. She searched through philosophical treatise and simple meditation exercises, specifically searching for an understanding of the Dark Side.

It did not escape her notice that she’d once refused to ask her brother the very questions that plagued her now, all those years ago. Back when the truth of her family heritage had been revealed to her. She could have, like Luke, searched for meaning in Darth Vader’s turn from the Dark Side and back to the Light. But back then, she hadn’t wanted anything to do with the Force due to all the destruction its use had rained on both her personally and the galaxy at large.

It was when Ben killed his father that she began to truly consider learning how to immerse herself in the Force. If she could feel what her son felt, perhaps she could understand how he did it. Why he did it. And if it came down to it… remove the life she’d brought into this galaxy.

It was to this end, during her research of her biological father that she stumbled across tantalizing news.

Her son was on Mustafar.

Newly crafted lightsaber in hand she’d travelled what the records claimed was Darth Vader’s old meditative retreat. A place Luke had once visited and returned sombre and subdued. She’d refused his offer to join him, what Vader had done to her still too raw.

Now she travelled there of her own will. Alone.

It had never escaped her notice that her son had been avoiding her ever since he first turned on his friends and family. Her desperate calls to him in the Force had been stonewalled, her inexperience making reaching him impossible. She’d used her considerable resources as General to track him, but he never went anywhere alone, always surrounded by his followers and later the First Order.

But now he was alone. Moreover, in his obsession with his grandfather, it was no surprise that he would eventually visit such a place.

All of that had led to this moment.

She stood at the bottom of the ramp of her ship, watching his approach. The black figure stalked down the flattened landing area from the ruins of Darth Vader’s fortress. Her son was unrecognizable in the black mask he’d taken to wearing.

His ship was behind her, he’d have to go through her to get to it.

“Ben.” She whispered when he stopped in the open area before her ship.

“What are you doing here?” He sneered, voice altered to sound more menacing. She shook her head at his theatrics. He had to know it would not work on her.

Through the Force, she could feel the hesitation he tried to smother under the false bravado. “Here to destroy your enemy?”

Hearing about what he had become, what he had done, and seeing and feeling the reality for herself…was surprisingly difficult. She’d thought she was ready. Instead, the woman who'd once told one of the most men in the galaxy that she could smell his stench a whole ship length away, couldn't say a thing.

His head tilted, searching the area with the Force, she could feel his incredulity when he asked, “you came alone?”

Obviously he assumed Luke would be with her, that he would finally come out of his self-imposed retreat to ‘deal’ with him. There was almost disappointment in his voice. Always searching for attention, perhaps he’d hoped coming here alone would in turn get his uncle’s attention.

“Ben,” she repeated, stronger, finding her voice, “I came to talk.“ He scoffed at that but kept his lightsaber unlit in his hand.

“You’ve merely saved me the trouble of hunting you down.” He snarled, using the voice alteration to hide the alto of his voice. Threatening her in a way they both knew was false.

“I didn’t come here to talk to Kylo Ren.” She snapped, annoyed at his posturing. “Ben, take that mask off.”

“You’re afraid of my power.” He tried to gloat, “I can feel it,” he spat the next word out, a complicated mess of emotions barely contained behind his mental shields, “Mother.”

“I’m afraid that you killed your Father for nothing.” She stated, pain hidden behind her hurt and anger.

“I’ve become more powerful than you can imagine. And now-“ He ignited his red lightsaber, whatever emotions he’d been struggling with completely suppressed, and pointed it at her. “You will help me gain even more power.”

“Ben, if you continue to isolate yourself like this-“

“That is not my name!” He cried and lunged for her, the Dark Side eager to answer his call, thick in the air around him.

He stabbed straight ahead with his red lightsaber, intending to run her through as he had his Father. As Chewie had painfully, hesitatingly, explained to her at her determined insistence. She had allowed herself no respite from the awful truth. It was her fault Han had been put in that position in the first place.

To his shock, his attack was blocked by a blue blade.

“You-“ The mask garbled his shocked voice.

Over their crossed swords she tried to search out his eyes behind the mask, for any sign of the boy she once knew. To peer through the wall he had up between himself and the rest of the galaxy.

He broke away and swung at her again, a testing blow.

“Ben, stop this.”

When she smoothly blocked the second blow and the third and fourth that followed she felt rage join the hatred he’d been projecting earlier.

“This whole time,” He growled. “This whole time, you’ve been holding back. Been holding me back!”

“What-?” Was all she was able to get out before she had to dedicate all of her focus to defending herself from his wild attacks.

She was proficient with the lightsaber, years of various martial training aiding her recent personal practice with the weapon. However, her son had trained with his lightsaber since he was a teenager and his experience showed. She was constantly on the defence, retreating and using the Force to guide her steps.

The dark pall that had settled over the area did not hinder her too much, as it might have most Jedi. Instead, it merely reminded her of a time decades past; when the Alliance was on the run from the originator of the nightmarish aura.

“Ben!” She tried to reach him again, “How can you not see that he’s isolating you!” She yelled over the sound of clashing blades. “It’s not about power, its-“

“Shut up!” Her son cried, anger making his voice sound even harsher, “You’d never understand!”

The familiar refrain brought up old memories, old arguments, “your obsession with your grandfather-“

“He did great things! He’d understand! You’re just afraid-“

“Darth Vader did not-“

As they argued and dueled, neither noticed the Force beginning to swirl around them, both too caught up in their argument. Their fight led them to an area steeped in the Dark Side; away from Darth Vader’s old crumbling fortress and towards the edge of a lava flow. It was a nondescript slope made of small gravel sized lumps of rock, indistinguishable from any other part of the flow.

However, on this spot, many decades ago, a similar duel between family members took place. The blood of jealousy and hatred, the tears of anguish and heartache both stained the ground long after the original rocks had been consumed by the fluctuating lava flow.

On this spot, as the combatants unknowingly invoked that name, the Dark Side answered. The Force around them rippled. As if a pebble had been dropped in the still pond of the galaxy. Both mother and son paused in their duel and swayed, the waves inducing intense nausea.

Leia fell to her knees unable to keep her feet as the world began to spin. The image of Darth Vader’s fortress behind her son undulating between the crumbling structure she knew, to a perfectly repaired tower. Ben quickly joined her on his knees, hunched over, lightsaber still lit in his hand.

The world buckled and spun, the air fluctuated between clear and choking.

Leia gripped her head with her left hand and grit her teeth against the urge to vomit.

"What in the Galaxy is happening?!"

The swirling chaos slowly calmed. The final wave passing through them. They were both left on the ground, panting. Or in her son’s case, almost dry heaving. They remained there on the harsh hot rocks for an indeterminable amount of time. For though the Force may no longer feel like waves constantly crashing into her, pulling her under the surf, tumbling and drowning her, her mind was having difficulty adjusting to a stable reality.

Leia recovered first, somehow not as overwhelmed by whatever the Force had done to them. She raised her head and looked around, trying to regain her bearings. She frowned and blinked up at the intact fortress. Not sure if she could believe her eyes. Could this be one of those Force visions she’d heard about? Although no source she’d read had mentioned the vertigo and feeling of complete displacement.  

Or the weak connection to the Force that flowed from her grasp like water. She hadn’t felt this disconnected from the Force since the early days of Luke showing her a few simple tricks.

As she stared up at the fortress, Leia’s frown deepened at a familiar aura coming from it. It was something she half remembered feeling before, back before she’d started to dabble in the Force. It was an oppressive darkness, the kind that used to wake her from dreams in a cold sweat. Like a black hole in the Force, it sucked all light and life from its surroundings.

An intense hatred the likes of which she had yet to feel from her son. At least… not yet.

She knew Ben had recovered when his red blade made a sudden wide swing at her, and she barely managed to block it. He disengaged and made a growl of frustration.

Both still kneeling, they staggered to their feet.

“Ben.” She tried to tell him, “Something is wrong.”

His only response was to stagger forward and take another swipe at her. She dodged back but almost lost her footing, the Force still slipping through her fingers. Her son, even if it had initially hit him harder, appeared to be recovering faster than her in this. Or he was trying to press a perceived advantage.

Leia planted her feet in a wide stance and blocked the next downward thrust. She made no move to attack in turn, blocking Ben’s wild attacks taking most of her focus.

“Listen!” Leia hissed and easily deflected his attack, the weight behind his blows lacking their earlier strength. "Whatever that was in the-“

“Shut up!” He growled and continued to swing wildly, clearly hoping to overwhelm her while their connection to the Force was weakened.

Unbeknownst to either of them their almost drunken staggering of a duel gained an observer.

Leia’s blood ran cold as a familiar noise reached her ears. And it was getting louder.

Out of the black smoke of the lava, a figure appeared straight out of her nightmares. Ben almost took advantage of her wide-eyed distraction, frozen as she was. Except the ignition of a lightsaber caused him to turn around in a defensive block.

Leia stumbled back, head shaking in denial. This can’t be real. He can’t be real! Her mind screamed. Could a vision recreate the exact sound of his respirator, the sound and sight of his lightsaber, the black hatred that practically oozed off him?

“Jedi,” the towering armoured form growled.

Or recreate the timber of his voice?

The fortress in the distance, completely intact as if it had never been damaged, the black nightmare stalking towards them, blood-red blade cutting through the ash filled air, it was all impossible.

This was either a very, very, detailed shared vision or…

… something impossible had happened.

Visions could be so realistic you don’t realize you’re in one until you finally break free, Luke had once said. Was that what this was? In a place thick with the Dark Side, were her greatest fears appearing before her?

But that didn't explain the vertigo, or the strange feel of the Force.

Ahead of her, Ben ripped off his mask and stared at Darth Vader in awe.

“Darth Vader.” He whispered, and she shuddered at the reverence in his voice. “It happened, just as he said it would.” He continued to himself, Leia barely caught it over the hiss of steam from the running lava.

With barely a second thought, he knelt before Vader. As an apprentice to his master.

Vader halted his approach in surprise. “Who are you, boy?” He addressed her son, “A new inquisitor?”

“No.” Ben shook his head, “I’m like you. A Sith Lor-“

“Hardly,” Vader interrupted him, dismissively, “you’re barely more than a dark Jedi.”

“I’m more than that. Much more” Ben refuted, desperation rising in his voice. “I’ll kill this Jedi,” he gestured back at her frozen form, “and show you.”

But if this was a vision of her worst nightmare, how did that explain Ben?

If Vader didn’t already have his lightsaber lit, Leia had a feeling he’d be crossing his arms and eyeing Ben skeptically. She wanted to interfere, to distract Vader from Ben, but the sight of him, the feel of him in what little of the Force she could grasp, was too overwhelming.

Vader’s attention briefly turned to her and she felt it like a brand on her skin. Hot with his hatred of all things Jedi.

Vader began to walk towards Ben, still prostrated and head bent. “A half-trained Jedi,” Vader dismissed her, “Barely a challenge.”

Indignation at his casual dismissal rose up in her, tempering the horror gripping her tongue.

“What I want to know is how you arrived undetected.” He continued to close the distance, red lightsaber held parallel to the ground. “And what you hoped to accomplish.”

 “I…” Her son struggled for words, “power, I’ll prove myself and become as powerful as you.” 

Leia jerked her eyes down to her son, finally tearing her eyes away from the approaching figure.

Is that truly what he wanted? What Han died for?

Through her muddled sense in the Force, she began to feel a warning tingle down her spine. In shock she glanced back up at Vader and quickly realized what his body language meant, what the Force was trying to tell her, and yet Ben was either ignoring or couldn’t feel.

With a cry, she lunged forward and blocked Vader’s downward swipe, barely defending her son in time. Her frozen paralysis melting away.

Ben jerked his head up, his shock ringing in the Force. Vader’s own surprise echoing her son’s.

“Why!?” Ben cried, scrambling to his feet. Either demanding why Vader attacked him or why she defended him, she didn’t know.

“You know why.” She answered her son, arms straining against the power behind the red blade.

“There will be no more inquisitors.” Vader intoned. “And you will join him, Jedi.”

She could vaguely feel Vader probe her in the Force, attempting to gain access to her mind. Not confident she’d be able to keep him completely out, Leia disengaged their blades and went on the offensive, turning her block into a thrust. Vader blocked it in turn and brought his blade down in a sweeping one handed slash almost too fast for her to follow. Leia was forced to drop and roll to the side, barely avoiding adding her blood to the tainted ground.

“And why would a Jedi defend a darksider?” Vader demanded, probing her mind, trying to determine who they were and why they were there.

Leia knew now, as she deflected both his physical and mental attacks, that this was no vision. It was too vividly real. Each blow straining her arms, each mental probe lashing across her mind.

She hesitated to reply, focused on staying alive just one moment longer, retreating, trying to reach the Force properly and keep him at bay. If she’d thought the difference in experience between her and Ben had been challenging, it didn’t hold a candle to the sheer gulf of experience between her and Vader.

How did Luke do it? She thought in growing desperation, her breath coming in pained pants.

Vader’s attacks slowed, becoming more predictable, giving her the chance to speak, “He can come back.” She finally answered, the pure conviction in her voice.

He paused his punishing attacks. “Then you are a fool.” Vader pronounced, almost admonishing her. “There is no return from the dark side.”

Indignation flared at his tone and she glared hatefully at him. “I don’t believe you!” Her anger at him, and everything he stood for, flooded through her in a heady rush.

“Your feelings betray you.” Vader pointed a stern finger at her. “Believe what you want, Jedi, it will not alter the truth.”

“Grandfather!” Ben called, and Leia almost lost her head to Vader’s blade she was so surprised.

“Ben!” She hissed. Luckily Vader did not take advantage and actually took a couple steps back, observing them. “What are you doing!?”

“Grandfather, I’ll kill my- the Jedi. Kill the last of the light inside me and earn your respect. I swear it.”

Leia had no time to inform her son of what a stupid thing he’d just done before he leapt between her and Vader and began to rain blows down on her. For some reason ignoring the fact that, just a moment ago, Vader had tried to kill him.

She didn’t know what Vader had made of that declaration, only prayed to the Force that he would disregard it.

“Ben!” She grunted, narrowly dodging a thrust.

“This isn’t a vision!” She locked their blades and hissed at him, arms shaking and weak from defending herself from Vader.

The hum of three lightsabers filled the air around them. Ben’s popping and crackling angrily with each movement. He clearly had a better grasp on the Force now, spinning his blade more confidently and powerfully than before.

She did her best to bolster her stamina, but the Dark Side made it more difficult than it should have been. Vader’s menacing aura on the edge of their duel did nothing to help her concentration.

“You won’t hold me back anymore!” He cried and, with a practised twist, managed to wrench her lightsaber from her hands.

It landed on the black earth with a soft rasp of metal on rock.

Despair gripped her heart.

Is this how I’ll join Han? Will Ben ever be able to come back from this?

But he didn’t immediately follow up her disarming with a killing blow.

Instead, while she stood shocked and defenceless, he hurled accusations at her, “You came to kill me, mother.” He spat, “Don’t try to deny it.”

Vehement denial shot through her and through the Force. Leia slashed a hand through the air and emphatically exclaimed, “I didn’t come to kill you. I came to save you!”

“Liar!” He snarled, face twisted in his anger.

The sight of him, the face he had hidden behind the mask, tore at her. And perhaps this was what he had wanted to hide from her. He didn’t want her to look at him and see the son she had loved. The son she still loved, despite all he had done.

Throat tight with suppressed emotion she barely managed to cry, “Ben, I just wanted you back!”

An ugly snarl warped his face and he scoffed at her declaration.

He didn’t believe her.

And perhaps he was right to doubt. Perhaps she could have killed him, if the earlier fight had continued and he’d kept his mask on. But now, looking into his eyes… feeling his hesitation in the Force...

Ben turned his head to the side to address Vader, surprisingly still standing to the side, watching their fight, “I’ll kill my Mother, and the last of the light inside me.”  

She shook her head in denial. Anguish overtaking her at his dedication to sever all ties with his family. She couldn’t let him do this to himself. Desperately, she reached out with the Force, ready to defend herself.

Ben raised his blade to strike the killing blow. “Just like you killed your wife, Grandfather.”

Vader's overwhelming aura exploded.

Hatred so thick she almost choked on it clogging the air. It was hard to breathe. It pressed down on her, almost paralyzing.

Ben stumbled forward. Leia blinked her eyes rapidly to clear her vision.

Leia saw the intent before she felt it and lunged towards her son, under his guard.

Ben flinched, expecting an attack, and with one hand she grabbed the front of his robes and pushed him to the side. She was just barely in time, the deadly red blade slicing the edge of his cheek.

With her other hand she called her lightsaber. It flew into her open palm. She was barely in time to block the followup attack. She quickly released Ben needing both hands to keep Vader’s one handed slash from cutting her.

Vader’s rage was a living thing, and did not care who the outlet was. He hammered down on her defences, relentless in both his physical attacks and with the Force. Leia was barely able to withstand each attack, stumbling over herself to get away. So focused on Vader, and on leading him away from her son, she didn’t notice Ben’s confusion, or his doubt.

Leia quickly realized that earlier, Vader could have killed her at any time. Only now that Ben had made him angry was he seriously trying.

She almost let herself be distracted by the sudden opening of the bond between herself and Ben. She sensed him come to some decision, the wall he’d built between them beginning to crumble.

A powerful swing, full of Vader’s unrelenting hatred, rattled her to the bone. Her arms were crumpling from the effort to keep him at bay.

All it took was one last dominating attack to rip her lightsaber from her limp hands.

She was panting, shaking in exhaustion, but unafraid.

Her fear of Vader had disappeared the moment she saved Ben. She knew taking Vader’s rage would end in her death, but she wanted Ben to live, instinct and love driving her, even if Ben would not appreciate what she was doing for him. There was still hope for him. She refused to believe otherwise.

“As expected from such a weak Jedi.” Vader growled. He stepped in for the kill.

“No!” The sharp cry had Vader spinning and blocking an attack.

Leia could only stand there in shock, panting.

“So eager to die, boy?” Vader spat over their crossed red blades.

Ben snarled and broke free, attacking and spinning to put himself between her and Vader.

Hope of the desperate, painful kind rose in her at the protective act. Ben was still mostly blocking her in the Force, but she could feel his determination, his conviction.

Impatience flooded the air, Vader clearly tiring of the constant interruptions. Ben, though able to use the Force better than her, was no match for Vader. It didn't take long for Vader to force him off balance, clearly through toying with him.

A double handed slash from Vader caused Ben to stagger, spinning him to face her.

Their eyes met, horror blooming across both their faces.

A red blade burst through his abdomen.

Leia and her son both stared at it in shock. Ben's hand hovering over the red blade in disbelief.

A scream built behind her throat.

Ben dropped his blade, hand limp.

Behind him, the towering black form of Vader removed the blade, and raised it for a finishing blow.

The scream exploded out of her. And with it, a swell of all her pent-up anger, grief, denial, and agony slammed into Vader.

He let out a grunt of surprise and pain, sliding many meters back, heels digging into the loose gravel. He landed in a crouch, narrowly keeping his balance.

But she barely noticed this, eyes locked on Ben. He fell to his knees and Leia stumbled forward to catch him, joining him on the ground. She cradled him, resting his white face against her shoulder. Her hand joined his on the hole in his gut, covering it.

Tears began to stream down her face.

Her son looked up at her, shock both on his face and in the Force, his walls now completely down. She could feel it, his amazement. She shook her head, unable to speak, not understanding what shocked him so.

For the first time in a long while, Ben was wide open to her in the Force, touch opening a bond that had long been dormant and blocked. That she had long thought severed.

She could feel it clearly now, his incredulity at her tears. One of his hands hesitantly touched her cheek, as if to prove to himself that they were real.

“You’re crying.” He shakily says.

“Of-“ she has to swallow the lump in her throat to continue. “Of course I am. I wanted to-” Her breath caught on a sob, “I just wanted you back.”

“Even after I-“ His disbelief was still clear, although acceptance was already beginning to bleed in.

“You’re my son. Nothing-“ She clenched her eyes shut, the pain of losing Han opening like a fresh wound. If only she hadn’t sent Han after him. If only she had kept Ben close, instead of sending him away to Luke in fear. Fear of what he could become.

Ben sucked in a sharp breath of pain and she opened her eyes, moving her hand from his wound to his cheek. She took a deep breath, met his eyes and said as clearly as she could manage, “I love you, nothing you did could ever change that.”

She began to rock Ben, his breathing becoming more and more of a struggle. Her grief poured out of her in a torrent. Ben's own tears joined hers with a whispered, "I'm sorry."

The crunch of boots on rock almost made her look up. But she couldn’t. Ben didn’t have much longer.

“Mom-” He tried and failed to verbalize his fear, blood filling his lungs and mouth. But she felt it regardless.

She bent her head down until their foreheads were touching, blocking out everything but her son. “Wait for me.” She whispered to him, “I’ll join you, I’ll find you just-,” She finished the last in a sigh, “just wait for me.”

With the last of his energy, Ben gave a tearful nod against her head. And then… relaxed, limp in her arms.

Dead.

She wanted to scream, to cry, to rage at the galaxy and the Force and everything that had led to this moment. For only now, as Ben’s presence in the Force began to fade, was she able to feel it fully once again.

The sound of something impacting the rocks caused her to tense, but she couldn’t bring herself to move. She was surprised he hadn't yet attacked while her guard was down but was too wrung out to care. Whatever he did, she didn’t care.

Can’t he wait, can’t he just give me this?

“Who are you?” He quietly asked from in front of her.

She shook her head, forehead still pressed against Ben's, unable to answer through her tears.

She could feel it this time; the same ripples that had brought them here were beginning to form. As Ben’s life left him, their time in the past came to a close.

Leia brought her head up, choking down the sob that wanted to burst free. She kept her eyes on her son, stroking his hair as she once did when he was a child.

In her peripheral vision, Vader was surprisingly close, on one knee before her, lightsaber nowhere in sight.

“He wanted to be like you.” She forced herself to say, to the phantom of her past, mind still swirling with Why? Why? Why?

She almost implored him to help her make sense of it all, of Ben’s incomprehensible decisions, “I don’t understand why.”

“Who are you?” Vader demanded again, a desperate demand for an answer the likes of which she had never heard from him before. “Is he truly…” my Grandson? And are you…? He was unable to verbalize but she felt it clearly through the Force.

But that was unimportant to her. She smoothed her thumb against Ben’s eyebrow, softening the pained expression on his face. What was most important, even if it had been too late was, “But… he came back. He had a choice, and he came back to me.”

Leia finally raised her head to look at Vader. Grief and heartache in her eyes, no accusation (for someone was going to be forced to stop her son, and she was strangely grateful it hadn't been her). But what shone most powerfully in the Force was the validation of her feelings; In the end Ben had chosen her over his Grandfather.

She’d been right about him.

The air wavered.

The Force swallowed them up.

…

Vader stretched out a hand, desperate to touch what the Force was telling him was true.

When his hesitant hand reached the grief stricken woman cradling her son… it passed right through them. Their forms swirling and fading like a mirage in the desert.

But that had been no mirage, nor a simple vision from the Force.

That boy… he had called him grandfather. A blatant impossibility.

And yet…

Had he just killed his grandson in his rage? Self-loathing started to bubble beneath the surface of his thoughts, almost choking him. If he had truly just killed his grandson then the woman, the Jedi, the mother, could only be…

A daughter.

He had a daughter.

He did not kill his wife, as his Master had informed him, long ago. And as the boy had praised him for. But he hadn't. Not if she’d lived long enough to give birth to a daughter.

A daughter who had in turn given birth to a son. A son who wanted desperately to be just like him. To be as powerful in the dark side as him.

He was dead in their time, that much was obvious. The two of them had been incredibly strong in the Force, if abysmally trained.

He had a daughter.

The thought brought him to his feet, a foreign feeling growing inside him. She had been strong for someone half-trained. She had been able to fight him off longer than expected. Had held off his mental attacks even as she struggled to grasp the Force.

If they were a vision, then what he’d just seen was an interaction with a possible future, but not necessarily his future. The woman had been old, but was still youthful enough he should be able to recognize her.

He would find her.

…Just as soon as he dealt with the incompetent loss of the Death Star plans.

Chapter Text

Darth Vader stood on the bridge of his personal stardestroyer, the Devastator. He was in his customary place before the viewport, hands clasped behind his back. Within the vastness of the stars, his eyes zeroed in unerringly on the small blockade runner currently taking heavy fire. The ship was trying desperately to escape; the crew’s fear and panic a clarion in the Force.

As soon as the Devastator had come out of hyperspace he’d known it was the right ship. The crew had tried to muddy their trail with a series of jumps and changed their transponder codes to that of an Imperial Consular Ship. However, the Force was clear, this was the ship with the stolen plans.

Soon, the ship’s shields would fail and the superior engines of the Devastator would bring them in range of the tractor beam.

Vader clenched his fists to soothe his rising impatience. The Rebels should never have been given the chance to steal the plans in the first place. As usual, it was up to him to correct the incompetence of Imperial command. In their arrogance, they’d allowed the Rebels access to information that had been carefully guarded for decades.

Admiral Montferrat had unhesitatingly followed his orders and relayed to the crew to open fire on the ship, despite the codes. The competence of his officers and crew, as usual, mitigated his frustration at the continued failings of the Empire and Imperial Navy.

He had more important matters to concern himself with.

Such as the search for the truth of his vision. For that’s what the startlingly real event must have been. It could be nothing less. With this distraction soon to be resolved he could then begin tearing apart the galaxy for the truth.

Discreetly of course.

His Master did not know, his impressive ability to foresee events failing him in this. Or… Vader clenched his teeth and glared venomously at the small ship… or his Master had known of the possibility, and kept silent. For his Master was notoriously against any distraction or splitting of loyalties on Vader’s part.

Behind him, he felt a relaxing of the crew in the Force. Captain Corssin reported to the Admiral that the Rebel’s solar foil had been damaged; the ship could no longer make the jump to hyperspace. Vader allowed himself a brief feeling of satisfaction, Admiral Montferrat once again proving his competence. In waiting for the little ship to enter the gravity well of the planet below, they had trapped it long enough to disable it.

With the impending completion of the mission, some of Vader’s impatience and frustration eased.

Soon, he would find her.

He would have that which had been denied him.

That power , he relaxed at the thought, eyes staring ahead half-lidded, it will be mine .

…

On the fiery shore of Mustafar, an intense battle raged. From his position at the base of his fortress, Darth Vader stared down at the clashing red and blue cylinders whipping up clouds of ash, obscuring the combatants.

He began to slowly walk down the slope towards them, black fragments of cooled magma shifting under his boots.

A great disturbance in the Force had alerted him to something invading his sanctuary. It had been nebulous at first beyond an insistent push to exit his specialized bacta tank and investigate. He’d almost ignored it, for the Force was an extension of his will and he was no longer its pawn.

But the increasing sense of urgency had ruined his meditation. Hovering limbless in the viscous fluid while alert was a form of self-torture he rarely indulged in.

The two figures battling before him were not what he’d expected to find when he’d hunted down the source. He could barely feel them in Force, their existence muted.

He was almost upon them when they broke apart.

"Jedi." He growled, igniting his lightsaber, ready to cut them both down for their trespass.

"It worked!" The man with the red lightsaber cried, turning his back on the other. Vader took in the young man's all black attire, down to the gloves and boots, as well as the long shaggy black hair. It was all very stereotypical of a darksider.

Who was this man? What game was his Master playing?

The woman with the blue lightsaber, left panting and forgotten, was significantly older. Old enough to be his contemporary. Which was strange, he had no memory of someone like her in the Jedi Order.

Unlike the ecstatic look on the young man's face, she looked horrified.

Then the young man took a knee and bowed to Vader. The Sith Lord paused in his advance, surprised that the young man would put himself in such a vulnerable position. Especially when he should know what Vader had done to the last idiot his Master had sent to Mustafar.

“Who are you, boy?” Vader asked. “A new inquisitor?”

“No.” The darksider shook his head, “I’m like you."

“Hardly,” Vader interrupted him, dismissively, “you’re barely more than a dark Jedi.”

Desperation rose in the young man's voice. “I’ll kill this Jedi,” he gestured back at the frozen woman, “and show you.”

What followed was quite the odd encounter.

Vader of course had no patience for untested boys disturbing his place of rest just to show off their skill. He was not in the market for an apprentice and never would be. He very quickly decided to relieve the boy of his arrogant head.

But then in a move not even his master could have foreseen, the Jedi woman protected the boy.

When he wasn't able to kill her immediately, he decided to question her. Toying with her while he did so.

Then she'd spouted absolute nonsense about how the darksider who had almost killed her could come back to the light.

When that darksider had then interrupted their duel to kill the Jedi himself, Vader almost cut him down then and there. But then the boy had called Vader, 'grandfather.' It was so ridiculous it made him pause and just watch their fight.

Vader almost considered letting the boy live. Just long enough to discover what new delusions his Master was putting in his Inquisitor's heads.

The boy then said the words that sealed his fate.

And the woman exploded in the Force in a way that saved hers.

When she pushed Vader back, almost throwing him, with a blast of the Force full of anger and rage and denial he'd barely kept his feet. His boots had dug into the rough gravel of the slope, leaving deep furrows in the ground. He’d barely managed to ward off the worst of it with a raised arm.

It was not the Force push of a Jedi, nor was it filled with the hatred of a Sith, but it was powerful nonetheless, unfocused beyond a desperate need to get him away from the boy.

The woman screamed in anguish over the darksider’s body. She let out all her grief, her heartache, her pain, all of it. He could practically hear the darkness of Mustafar whispering to her to just let go, let it all out, give yourself over .

The emotions were so acute it was almost painful. Even to him. Her emotions had a vibrancy to them he hadn't sensed in ages. All the Jedi who could have affected the Force to this degree were long dead. Dead by his hand.

He approached her slowly and wearily, but she gave no sign that she noticed him, all her focus on the boy. The boy who had dared come to Mustafar and claim to be his successor. The boy who was steeped in the Dark Side but had yet to give himself over to it fully; the hesitation in his attacks on the woman obvious to any trained eye.

He stopped a pace away from them, debating if he should just end their existence and rid himself of these interlopers. But what he heard next shocked him into inaction.

“You’re my son.” She said to the boy. And, “I love you.”

The woman was the darksider’s mother.

He’d called her a Jedi, but there was nothing of the Jedi in the look she gave him. No Jedi Master would allow their grief to run rampant, as she did. Or used their anger and anguish to reach for the Dark Side, repeatedly, with no hesitation or faltering, as she had.

No Jedi that hadn’t already fallen at least, like the boy.

He felt her grow in the Force, as if she was finally able to grasp it fully. As if, during their duel, she’d been fighting at half power, unable to reach her full potential. If that was so, she was truly strong in the Force, stronger than any he had come across in a long time.

And only partially trained. It was almost an insult, to let all that potential go to waste.

“Who are you?” He’d desperately asked, needing to know with a strength of emotion that surprised him.

And then, with barely a whisper of the Dark Side, they’d faded away, like smoke on the wind. A hazy mirage that left him questioning what he had seen. And all that he’d known about that day, many years ago, when Darth Vader rose from the fires of Mustafar.

…

“Admiral, is the boarding team ready?” Vader cleared his head and brought himself back to the task at hand.

“Yes, Lord Vader. Shall I order them to await your arrival?” The Admiral asked, the question perfunctory. He had served with Vader long enough to anticipate his orders.

“Very good, Admiral.” With the Rebel ship now caught in the tractor beam, Vader turned and swept off the bridge, intent on personally seeing this mission to its conclusion. And take out his remaining frustration at the delay in his search for the woman on the deserving Rebels.

…

Vader allowed the stormtroopers to clear the way into the captured ship first. He could go in himself, but he found it was often more satisfying to revel in the enemy’s fear, to take the time to soak it in. And then, when their despair began to reach a crescendo, he would appear and break the last of their willpower.

However, this time, the usual rush he received from the Dark Side was lacking. Missing some key element. He frowned at the change in the Force. The more he examined it, the more he realized it was a change in himself that caused this different experience. The fear was just as potent, the Dark Side sang just as eloquently.

Only now it paled in comparison to the vision. The depth of her emotions in the Force had been intoxicating. Her pure, unadulterated, unfiltered heartbreak. Her fear. Her anger. No Jedi, darksider, or non-sensitive person had ever felt so intensely.

Dissatisfied with what should have been a quick and easy release for his emotions, Vader moved towards the boarding ramp.

“Lord Vader.” The attending Commander approached him. “We have not yet secured the forward entrance.”

“Leave that to me.” Vader said darkly, intent on finding some release.

The stormtroopers at the hatch instantly stood to the side as he approached. Stray blaster fire zipped out the hatch, barely missing him. Smoke filled the entryway, used to give the boarding party some cover. He did not need it, but he anticipated the moment the Rebels realized just who had captured their ship.

Vader stepped through the hatch, ducking his head slightly to fit through the opening. Dead troopers littered the floor, while the survivors pressed themselves to either side of the corridor, exchanging fire with the rebels.

Behind him, he felt the anticipation of the stormtroopers rise. They knew what was coming. And they reveled in it.

One of the Rebels must have seen movement in the smoke for a red bolt was fired unerringly at his chest. With a quick motion of his hand, he caught it. The bolt hovered in the air before him, highlighting his dark form amidst the smoke.

A cry of alarm went up among the Rebels. Fear turned to terror before him, anticipation turned to glee behind.

A snap-hiss and his lightsaber deflected the frantic final shots of the dead; the blasts unerringly finding their point of origin. That was all it took for the rebels to break ranks and flee. A brief sneer of disgust at their cowardice pulled on his scarred cheek.

“Secure the vessel.” He ordered as the stormtroopers surged forward, harrying the retreating Rebels. “Bring me the Officers.”

The blaster bolt, still held in his outstretched hand, was finally deflected harmlessly at his feet.

“Commander, begin with a search of the main computer.”

…

Later, multiple dead rebel officers lay at his feet. The last one, the Captain, hurled against the wall in disgust. All claiming the same thing, that this was a consular ship. All repeating the same refrain, they were on a diplomatic mission. All denying the truth, they intercepted no plans.

And all lying .

None knew what had happened to the plans, he could feel that much through the Force. Killing them only slightly relieved his anger. This was taking far longer than he had the patience for. The continued lacklustre feeling of the Force only fed his impatience.

He needed to meditate on this shift in his awareness. The effects of the vision needed to be examined and dissected. The power it currently had over him, to change his interaction with the Dark Side, was unacceptable. When he found her, he needed to be the one in control. For if he could not fix this change in perception, if she ever realized what even the mere memory of her did to him…

“Lord Vader.” The Commander approached. “The Ambassador has been found, a squad is bringing her in.”

“Excellent.” Perhaps now he would have someone with worthy information to interrogate. Someone to satiate the itch under his skin.

The Commander continued with his report on what had been found on the ship. So far, the protestations of the crew had, to all appearances, been proven true. But he knew better. They may have done a good enough job to cover their tracks and fool the average Imperial, but they could not fool him.

Vader listened with half an ear, something catching his attention in the Force. It was small, a compressed ball of tightly held emotion. Spikes of fear and anger manifested and were quickly suppressed , as if they had briefly escaped someone's control.

Mildly curious, he turned to look down the hallway the feeling originated from. What he saw would have torn the breath from his lungs, had the respirator allowed it.

How had he not felt her before this moment?

Before him, a diminutive woman in a simple white dress was marched down the hallway. Her hands were cuffed in front of her and she was flanked by a squad of Stormtroopers. She was almost a head shorter than them and he knew, from the vision, that when she stood before him she would only reach the base of his shoulder guard.

It was her.

The woman from the vision.

His daughter.

His daughter was standing before him and the sight of her was more electrifying than he could have possibly imagined.

His daughter's presence had a fiery vibrancy that drew him in, like a moth to the flame.

His daughter was strong in the Force. So very real and present in a galaxy full of pastels and dull greys.

His daughter would be magnificent in the Dark Side, she would be everything he dreamed of and more.

“Lord Vader, only you could be so bold. The Senate will not sit for this.” The spiked ball that was his daughter’s force presence lashed out. Popping Vader’s euphoric thoughts as reality reasserted itself.

His daughter… was a Rebel.

Chapter Text

"Is there a transmitter?" The hated voice growled down at her prone form.

Leia didn't answer at first. She refused to say anything to him while sprawled weakly at his feet. It brought back too many bad memories. Memories of a time when she had been young and naive, when she hadn't realized how much he would and could take from her.

She managed to get to her feet with only a little trouble, putting as little pressure on her left leg as possible. The leg was starting to feel a little stiff in her body's attempt to prevent further damage. As long as she didn't aggravate it, it should remain a dull ache for now. Though she knew it would only get worse once her adrenaline started to fade.

"What?" She rasped, not understanding his question. The collar rested painfully on her throat now, a clear sign that a nasty bruise was forming. Down her back, blood began to trickle from one of her many wounds.

"Did Jabba inject you with a transmitter?" His voice filled the now silent hall.

She scowled up at him, indignant, "Of course not!"

"Hm." He looked away from her, "good."

Vader turned his back on her and strode away.

"Why does that even-" She was forced silent by a tug on her chain, stumbling forward until she regained her balance, Vader's black cape snapping at her legs.

Leia struggled to keep up due to her limp and shorter stature. Some of her hair, forced loose from its braid, fell into her face. She tried to sweep it back with one hand, while the other gripped the chain tightly, trying to prevent any more choking with the damned collar.

"I could have gotten myself out." She hissed at his black back. Why he had bothered to help her she had no idea. Surely he'd prefer her dead? Given the bounty the Empire had on her head, it was what she expected of him.

But then... he had been acting strange ever since Bespin. And according to high command, her bounty had recently been updated.

He stopped. Turned. Even with an emotionless mask, the movements of his body were practically screaming his incredulity at her statement.

"Injured it? Of course. Survived the experience? Unlikely." He resumed his long strides, making her stumble again while trying to keep up. She was struck silent by the odd comment. Had he just given her a backhanded compliment?

The path they walked was mostly clear, except for the odd piece of cloth or equipment that had been dropped in the chaos. It was eerie. What had happened between Jabba and Vader before he'd followed her into the pit?

The chain linking her to the black shadow swung with their movements, making a slight clinking noise as they went.

Leia shivered. Up in Jabba's throne room the air had been warm and stifling. The heat and sweat of many bodies, plus the smoke of various forms of spice, had left her surprisingly comfortable in the revealing outfit she'd been forced into. Now though, in the lower depths of the palace, the air was comparatively cold. Though it still stank of spice.

The goose bumps forming along her arms and legs only served to remind her of how little she was wearing. At least the fabric that hung from the metal around her waist covered the space between her legs. Her face flushed once more with humiliation at what had almost happened earlier.

The only silver lining of her current situation was that she hadn't given in and danced for Vader.

The black behemoth suddenly halted before a metal door, locked from the outside. Next to it, robes hung from pegs lodged into the wall. Leia blinked in surprise. She recognized this place. It was where she'd been stripped, and forced into her current outfit by leering guards, while other slave dancers looked on. The robes were to cover the dancers as they walked the hallways from their 'room' to the throne room.

"Cover yourself." He gestured to the row of robes.

Leia hesitated for a moment, shocked. His words were so well-timed with her own humiliated thoughts that, if she didn't know any better, she'd think he was reacting to her feelings of shame.

She reluctantly let go of the chain, snatching the nearest cloak and wrapping herself in it before he could change his mind. He ignored her while she did this, head facing the door. It made her wonder, did he know what was on the other side?

Just as she finished securing a few of the robe's clasps, and put a bloody hand on the chain in case he decided to yank her forward again, his lightsaber reignited and lashed out. Sparks flew from the door control panel, stray bits of melted metal bouncing off her robe.

She jumped instinctively back. "Watch it!" She cried, noting in the back of her mind that those sparks would have seriously hurt her bare skin if he'd not waited. It confused her once again, why would he care?

The door hissed open, revealing the surprised faces of the dancing girls and other female prisoners of Jabba.

Leia wasn't allowed more than a fleeting glance at them, before she felt a warning tug on the chain. She stumbled after Vader's retreating back, hissing in pain when she put too much weight on her left foot.

"What are you doing?" She asked, perplexed, when Vader repeated his actions at another door as he stalked past. She was able to get a quick glance in to see people, slaves, packaging up various drugs.

Vader did not answer.

The sound of pounding feet and shouted orders echoed around the next turn in the corridor. Ahead of them, some of Jabba's guards rounded the corner. They froze at the sight of Vader for a few long seconds, before jumping into defensive positions.

Blaster fire rained down on them.

Leia tried to duck into the door Vader had just opened, but a sharp tug at the chain forced her out into the open. Vader was still marching forward, the blaster fire not even slowing him down, his lightsaber flashing in quick arcs in front of him.

She was forced to duck behind the black bulk of him, for her own protection. The action gave her a weird feeling of vertigo. It was the complete opposite of all their past interactions. Being on the receiving end of Vader's protection, if that was truly what this was, was surreal.

She did not like it. Not one bit.

It didn't take long for the blaster fire to cease. The last body hit the ground with a muted thump.

She continued to limp after Vader, quickening her steps when she saw a discarded blaster next to one of the bodies. She made sure to give herself just enough slack in the chain so Vader wouldn't notice and leaned down to quietly pick one up. She could easily hide it within the folds of her robe.

"Leave it." Vader snapped without turning to look at her.

The temptation to ignore him and take her chances was strong. And a year ago she would have picked it up out of spite. But given her current precarious position all she did was silently curse him and comply. It wasn't worth the fight.

They turned down a side corridor, and exited out into a small room. Two guards, who had been sitting on the floor and listening to music, lurched to their feet. Both heads fell to the ground at a slash from Vader's lightsaber, the heads rolling to the side while the bodies slumped in place.

"Urg." She made a face at the casual brutality.

Vader deactivated his lightsaber and approached a command console built into the side of the wall, quickly tapping away at it. She grimaced to see that he'd wrapped her chain around his wrist tightly, leaving the hand free to do whatever he needed, while the other still held his lightsaber. So no chance of ripping the chain free in a moment of surprise, like she'd hoped.

Just because one avenue of escape was lost, that didn't mean it was impossible. He'd captured her a few times in the past, and every time she'd managed to escape. She refused to consider that this time could end any different.

A multitude of beeps echoed from the closed door beside the panel. With a few last inputs from Vader, the metal door opened, revealing a long dark corridor with many doors. The doors all stood open, with heads peeking out and the beings looking at each other in confusion.

"You all have this one chance to escape. I suggest you take it." Vader called down the hall, stepping to the side and forcing her to follow with a black hand.

"You're freeing the prisoners? Wait, were you also freeing the slaves earlier?" Leia asked, shocked. Unable to help herself, even if the Empire and the Hutts fighting only meant good things for the rebellion, she continued, "the syndicate will not stand for this. They will demand-"

"You think I care for the fate of slavers?"

The hypocrisy in the statement almost stole her breath.

Almost.

"The Empire is one of the main benefactors of the slave trade. You've increased the number of enslaved beings in the galaxy. You can't expect me to believe- wait." She cut herself off as the most likely reason for him doing this hit her.

"Are you really risking the Empire's standing with the syndicate just to create a diversion?"

"Believe what you wish."

He pushed her further into the wall and slightly behind him when the first of the prisoners hesitantly approached.

"Hey!" She grunted and tried to push back but it was futile. His arm was immovable.

When the first prisoner saw the decapitated heads of their jailers they yelled back to those behind them. The others followed cautiously. As soon as they reached the door they paused, eyeing Vader nervously.

"Go." He ordered.

The human man at the head of the group jumped in fright and made a run for it past Leia and Vader and into the corridor. His cry of happy surprise at seeing the dead bodies of the guards in the hallway had the others following after him in a stream of bodies. A couple stopped to pick up the dropped blasters of the two Vader had beheaded, but otherwise they ran for their freedom.

As the end of the stream of beings came to an end, she heard a voice that set her heart racing.

"Who cares if this wasn't part of the plan? Everyone else is leaving. We've got to-"

Han. Han was here.

A growl answered, a familiar note of exasperation in Chewie's voice.

"Hey! Let go fuzzball!"

Oh no. She looked up at Vader's profile. What was he planning? Had he known Han and Chewie were here?

An enraged growl emerged from Chewie as soon as he crossed the threshold and noticed Vader. Leia peered around Vader's arm to see that one of Chewie's arms was around Han, guiding him as Han stumbled through the door. Han's eyes didn't rise to meet her frantic ones. In fact he was squinting and his eyes were darting around. Her heart sank at the proof that he was still suffering the effects of hibernation sickness.

"Vader!?" Han cried, pulled forward as Chewie lunged for Vader.

"Chewie no!" She cried, wrestling with the black arm that held her back to no avail, fearing what would happen if her friend really did attack.

Chewie halted his charge with Han hanging off of one hairy arm, a shocked bark she recognized as her name bursting from him.

"What? Leia? That was her? Leia, what are you doing here?!" Han cried looking approximately in her direction.

Changing tactics, she abruptly stopped pushing against the iron bar of an arm and ducked under it. She didn't care what Vader did, she just wanted to hold and reassure Han.

Before she could reach them, a sharp tug from her collar had her stumbling back. She fell into Vader's chest, the black hand with her chain wrapped around the wrist clenching down on the top of her shoulder.

"Take Solo and leave, wookie. Or die here."

If she wasn't being held firmly in place, she would have spun in place to stare at Vader in shock. She must have misheard. There was no way Vader had come here just to let Han and Chewie go, right?

Chewie barked something, but it was too fast for her to understand the words, she could only tell that he was upset.

"A collar? What do you mean? Leia what's going on?" Han's confused voice cut through her.

"Han… don't worry, it's…" She trailed off, uncertain how to explain, mind busy trying to figure out Vader's plan.

"Why does everyone keep-" Han squinted in her general direction.

"Do not test my patience, wookie." Vader intoned when Chewie continued to hesitate, slightly lifting his unlit lightsaber in threat.

Chewie gave her an apologetic look, cradling Han closer to him. She resolutely nodded to him.

"Go." She ordered, the words practically torn from her. She didn't want to risk Vader changing his mind on allowing Han and Chewie to go free. "I'll be fine."

A blatant lie but Han didn't know that yet.

Chewie nodded, then followed the path the other prisoners had taken, out into the wider corridor. All the while Han's confused cries pierced through her. "No! Chewie wait! We can't leave her with him! What are you doing? Chewie!"

She winced, but kept her back straight.

As soon as Han's voice began to fade, Vader steered her forward, hand still on her shoulder.

Vader's pace was slow as the two of them followed Han and Chewie. Just before she lost sight of them, she saw Chewie hoist Han up onto his shoulder and start to run. All the while Han yelled at Chewie to turn around.

Her limp became a bit more pronounced when she was once again alone in the hall with Vader. The sound of his respirator all she could hear over her own slightly wheezing breaths.

But she did not let herself be afraid. She trusted Chewie to get Han out. And once Han had recovered, they'd meet up with Luke and come rescue her.

So in a way, she wasn't truly alone.

And Leia wouldn't sit quietly and wait for a rescue, oh no. As soon as a chance was presented to her, she'd be ready to take it.

Although… she winced and stumbled over a discarded pike. Her options were more limited than she'd like with her left foot as sore as it was. But she refused to make any noise to alert Vader to how much her ankle had really started to hurt.

As soon as they came upon the intersection Han and Chewie had disappeared down, Vader steered her in the opposite direction. The new path quickly began to feel familiar, but she couldn't quite place why.

She barely had time to process the sounds of booted feet running on hard rock behind them before Vader pushed her to the side and ignited his red lightsaber. The unexpectedness of the action made her accidentally put too much weight on her ankle. She gasped and almost collapsed at the sharp pain that shot up her leg. Only the proximity of the wall saved her from hitting the ground.

Leia looked around frantically when blaster fire filled the air. Jabba's men once again trying to kill Vader.

As soon as she saw how many were attacking she relaxed and dismissed them. It was a weird feeling and she did not like it, but she'd seen Vader in action enough over the years to know the few guards didn't stand a chance.

Instead she ignored the battle and bent over to examine her ankle, lifting the foot off the ground to feel around the swelling. It didn't feel broken, thankfully. But that didn't rule out a fracture or a sprain. Given how much it had hurt when she put too much weight on it, any escape plan that involved running was out.

She flinched back into an upright position when a black hand was thrust in front of her face.

Apparently the fight with the guards was over already.

She straightened up and eyed the offered hand suspiciously, "what?"

A quick glance around showed the dead bodies of Jabba's men down the hall, all dead due to reflected blaster bolts. Vader's lightsaber was no longer in his hand, instead clipped securely to his belt. She didn't like the implications that he was offering his sword hand to her.

"They caught up to us because you are too slow." His hand stayed steady in front of her.

"If you wanted me to walk faster, you just had to say so." She raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "I'm fine."

"You sprained your ankle when you first landed in the pit, you are not fine."

"And who's fault is that?" If Vader hadn't shown up, she wouldn't be in this situation!

She tried to imperiously push past him and continue in the direction they'd been going to prove her point. She stopped and breathed in sharply when the action put too much weight on her ankle and it almost collapsed under her.

Vader backed away slightly, lowering his arm while still partially blocking her from continuing.

"Your adrenaline is starting to fade. Soon you will barely be able to walk."

"I don't need your help." She pushed the words out through her teeth. Annoyed at his surprisingly accurate assessment. "I can walk perfectly fine on my own."

"Do not try my patience." He responded. He actually had the gall to wag a finger in her face.

She glared past it, refusing to be cowed. "Don't try mine."

Vader made an abortive movement like he was about to cross his arms but instead planted them on his hips. The gold chain connecting them hanging loosely between them.

"Would you prefer I carry you?" He asked, his frustration with her clear.

"No!" She cried, shocked, leaning away from him. Too dismayed to feel any sort of victory at his tone.

He offered his hand, palm up, once again; his ultimatum obvious.

She glared at the offending hand, then up at his grotesque mask.

It took all of a second for her to make the choice that let her keep what was left of her dignity intact.

"Fine." She begrudgingly accepted his hand, the black material rough against her bare hand.

He shifted in place and quickly tucked her arm against his body, forcing her to use him as a crutch. As soon as she was secured against him, he began walking down the hall once again. His longer strides only slightly shortened to accommodate her shorter legs.

Leia was forced to limp quickly to keep up, leaning heavily against him. Her skin crawled with every brush of the fabric that covered his armour against her. Her ears twitched with every exhale from the respirator situated right next to her head.

She was so focused on minimizing her physical contact with him and keeping up with his fast pace that she missed the markings above the many doors they now passed that would have clued her in to where they were going. She was also busy trying to figure out what angle Vader was playing. He was being a weird mixture of polite, aggressive, pushy, and considerate.

His usual disregard for her was missing.

It was something she'd used to her advantage in the past. As frustrating as it was to be deemed unimportant, it also led to being underestimated.

It was concerning.

"Bounty hunter!" Vader's call jolted her out of her head. "Why are you not at your ship?"

Leia looked up to see not far in front of them, leaning against the wall next to a closed copper hatch, was Boba Fett.

"I knew it." She seethed to herself. Her earlier suspicion that Fett and Vader were still working together proved correct.

"You'd rather be greeted by Jabba's men." The man stated, his mask and bland tone making it impossible to decipher any emotion.

Fett brought up his right forearm and typed in a couple commands. The door beside him opened with a hiss that immediately clued Leia in to where they were. They were in the honeycomb-like side of the cliff Jabba's palace was built on. Where ships came to dock.

"The ship's on standby." Fett said, straightening and walking through the now open door.

Leia was forced to follow when Vader steered her through the hatch, the opening wide enough to fit the two of them side by side. With beings like the Gamoreans serving Jabba, it was no surprise that the halls and doors were built to accommodate their wider frames.

"You didn't say you were gonna pick a fight with him." Fett stated as he skirted around the body of a dead human guard. "I better not lose a client over this."

"Jabba has more important matters to concern himself with." Vader dismissed the bounty hunter's concerns.

Ahead of them, Fett's ship sat in the small cavern. The ramp of the ship was lowered and the engine gave off a distinct hum. Beyond the ship was an opening in the rock just big enough to fit. It had to have taken a lot of skill to fit the ship into such a small docking bay.

Leia couldn't stop herself from chiming in, "I thought the Empire's stance on bounty hunters as the scum of the galaxy would prevent you from using them. Instead here you are, relying on one yet again."

"I will use all of the tools available to me. You should know that by now." Vader, to her surprise, answered.

She scoffed and continued to limp painfully beside him. She did not like where this was leading. But she had no choice.

As soon as they were at the base of the ramp into the ship, where Boba Fett had stopped and waited for them, Leia addressed the bounty hunter, "you can't honestly be expecting to get paid for this."

"The full 10 million credits, princess." Boba Fett tilted his helmet to look down at her. "Alive, no significant damage."

"I thought my bounty was dead or alive?" She burst out. When command had told her there had been a change to her bounty, she'd thought they'd meant in the amount of credits!

"Bait can hardly serve its purpose if it is dead." Vader explained, guiding her up the ramp while Fett followed on their heels. "You will get what you are owed, bounty hunter. Assuming she does not escape."

Leia sucked in a breath as Vader's words. The reason for his behaviour up until now finally becoming clear. She was bait for Luke!

Again!

It almost made her want to tear her hair out in frustration.

"She won't escape." Fett firmly stated behind them.

"Do not underestimate her. Many have lost their lives in doing so."

Leia blinked up at Vader, unable to contain her surprise. Was that a compliment? From him? Again?

They reached the top of the ramp, the contrast of the dark interior and the light exterior temporarily blinding her. Leia stumbled slightly when Vader didn't even pause, his helmet automatically adjusting to the change.

Vader guided her past some boxes held in place by thick netting and over to a seat that had been pulled down from the wall. She sank into it with a barely held in sigh of relief. She didn't want to show how good it felt to get off her feet, or how much it had bothered her to be touching him.

He'd surely use it against her in the future if he knew.

"Where is your med kit." Vader surprised her by asking, facing Boba Fett.

The bounty hunter paused from where he'd been about to walk past them into the cockpit.

"I don't treat the injuries of my bounties." Fett paused.

"I am not asking you to. Retrieve it." Vader ordered.

Leia's eyebrows went up, there was no way she was letting Vader treat her injuries. Was he delusional?

The bounty hunter shrugged his armoured shoulders and veered off to the side of the cockpit entrance. He entered a command into the panel on his right forearm and a small hatch opened beside him.

A small nondescript metal box was pulled out and offered to Vader.

"I need to get us moving before Jabba thinks to activate his anti-aircraft cannons."

Vader, instead of walking the few steps to pick up the box, simply held out his hand. At first Leia thought he was going to force Fett to walk over to him as part of a power play between them. But then the box quickly flew out of Fett's hands and straight onto Vader's black palm.

"Take us to the rendezvous point." Vader ordered, turning his back on Fett.

Leia ignored the bounty hunter as he left them and climbed a ladder into the cockpit. Instead, before Vader could do anything with the boxed medkit, she reached out and swiped it from his hand.

"Give me that." She said.

Vader cocked his head at her but otherwise did not react, his hand falling to rest on his belt instead.

She placed the small metal box on her knees and felt around for the latch to open it. The box was an old design, and highly durable. Built to survive a crash landing. It didn't take her long to figure out how to open it and begin sorting through it for what she needed.

As she pulled out wipes to clean out the cuts, she glanced up at Vader, who was still standing far too close and watching her.

"Luke's not going to fall for this, you know." She challenged him.

"Do not be so sure." Vader's other hand came up to join the other on his belt. His action relaxed as the ship started to shudder around them.

"It's such an obvious trap." Leia scoffed. "What do you really think you'll gain from all of this?"

"Skywalker may have eluded me in the past, but no more. Not with the wookie and smuggler informing him of your capture."

Leia sucked in a breath, his reason for letting Han and Chewie go made clear. She refused to react more than that and show how much she dreaded whatever other methods he would use to lure Luke into his trap.

She also was not looking forward to salvaging whatever crazy scheme Han and Luke cooked up to rescue her.

Luke had come out of the trap Vader had laid on Bespin a changed man. Both physically and emotionally. And Leia did not want to imagine what new changes a followup confrontation would bring. Not when Luke was obviously still adjusting to the consequences of the first one.

"Not very original of you, is it?" Leia mocked, indirectly referencing Bespin.

Vader was silent for a few drawn out moments. The only noises that filled the space between them being the harsh breaths of his respirator, the hiss of an antibacterial injection into her forearm, and the whine of the ship's engines as they picked up speed.

"I know where Skywalker is located on the planet. He can no longer hide from me." He slowly spoke, the revelation sending an ominous chill down her spine. "I made the mistake of not personally ensuring your transport to my ship before. But not again."

She paused in applying a sealant to the cuts on her hands to gape up at him. Not at all liking the implication of Luke being in danger whether he came to rescue her or not. Or the reminder that Vader specifically wanted her captured alive.

For what end?

"There will be no escape for you this time."

Luke, wherever you are… don't rescue me.

She sent the thought out into the stars. Not for the first time wishing she had some way of reciprocating Luke's method of contacting her with the Force.

Fly away. As far away as you can.

Meanwhile, in an omake/bonus reality…

"Your adrenaline is starting to fade. Soon you will barely be able to walk."

"I don't need your help." She pushed the words out through her teeth. Annoyed at his surprisingly accurate assessment. "I can walk perfectly fine on my own."

"Do not try my patience." He responded. He actually had the gall to wag a finger in her face.

She glared past it, refusing to be cowed. "Don't try mine."

Vader made an abortive movement like he was about to cross his arms but instead planted them on his hips. The gold chain that connected them hanging loosely between them.

"Would you prefer I carry you?" He asked, his frustration with her clear.

"No!" She cried, shocked, leaning away from him. Too dismayed to feel any sort of victory at his tone.

He offered his hand, palm up, once again; his ultimatum obvious.

She glared at the offending hand, then up at his grotesque mask. She could capitulate. She probably should, even.

But in a day when everything that could go wrong had gone wrong, his offer just felt like one more event pushing her past her endurance. The thought of being so close to him, of actually touching him made her skin crawl in disgust. No matter how injured or tired she was she physically could not bring herself to accept that hand.

Besides, she didn't think he'd actually follow through on his threat.

"I'm. Walking."

She imperiously limped around his outstretched hand.

"So be it." He intoned from behind her.

She had a brief second to enjoy her victory before the world spun and she was swept off her feet.

"Hey!" She cried, her hands flailing to balance herself.

The world abruptly stopped spinning, her vision filled with dark black cloth. "Oof." Her stomach landed hard on his shoulder guard.

She sputtered, too outraged to form a coherent sentence.

Without another word Vader began stalking down the corridor, his strides long and fast.

Leia's dirty and bloody hands gripped the fabric of Vader's cape so tightly her fingers turned white. Just above her knees, Vader's arm held her steady with absolutely no room for her to move. The chain that connected them swung low, almost touching the dusty ground.

"P-put me down!" Leia cried.

But she was ignored.

Later, she would blame her absolute rage and frustration at the situation for the almost suicidal action she took.

Leia twisted and smacked Vader in the head. At the same time, she began trying to knee the buttons on his control panel. Anything to make him put her down.

He grunted and gripped her injured ankle tight in his free hand.

"Ah!" She screamed, the stabbing pain shooting up her leg. She could even feel it in her lower back!

Before she could do anything more than freeze from the pain, he released her ankle. She collapsed in relief, breathing deep to work through the pain. Her whole leg throbbing in time to her rapid heartbeat.

"Do not do that again." He growled at her.

She growled wordlessly back and repressed the urge to curse him.

Using her still white knuckled grip of his cape she struggled to prop herself up so she could avoid all the blood rushing to her head.

Stars she kriffin hated him.