The man in the black cloak had never found himself capable of such barbaric lust as the average night club patron. Or any night club patron, for that matter. Especially one as distasteful as this. Carnal needs were beneath him. But he wasn't here for companionship. His informants had heard whispers of her name in the Outer Rim—caught glimpses of the girl people called "princess" because of her unwarranted sense of entitlement. He had not seen her in two years.
He had forced himself to drink his entire glass of a bitter, watered-down farce of a wine before she slid into the seat in front of him, her lips tight with hatred. She placed an upright palm on the table expectantly.
"Leia—"
"Credits," she interrupted. Her coldness stung more than he cared to admit, but he handed her a generous 400 and she promptly counted it. If she was at all grateful, she hid it well. "Twenty minutes."
"Twenty?"
"Nineteen now."
"Fine…" He found himself averting his eyes from her attire under a red silk robe, left immodestly open, leaving little to the imagination.
"Took you longer this time," Leia said. "To find me. What—running out of resources?"
"After your brother, I—"
"Don't," Leia snapped.
"Fair enough," he reasoned.
One hand kneading the other, Leia's eyes anchored themselves to a cold stare at the table.
"I was giving you space," he told her after a moment. "Generously, I might add. By the time I wanted to reach out again, you had disappeared."
"How sweet of you," the girl seethed. "She leaned in closer to the table, lowering her voice. "So tell me, what's someone like you doing in a place like this? I highly doubt the Imperial leash has been loosened. An official like you—meeting with a girl half his age in a brothel? One can only imagine—"
"Don't be obscene," he scoffed.
She waited a moment, sitting back, hiding her pride in a small smirk. She always did love getting a reaction out of him.
"You know, I knew you were coming," she continued.
"I assumed as much. You've surely never lacked in instinct."
"I'm just surprised I wasn't snatched in the dressed room. Or in the dark, on my way home. Tied up and halfway back to Coruscant by now. Your time wouldn't be quite so limited if you had gone in that direction. You'd have saved credits, too." She reclined in her chair and gestured towards the patrons surrounding them. "Did you want an audience?"
Leia stood, and in one swift motion, she whipped the hood of his cloak off his head. A leathery, disfigured face emerged from underneath, and etched in the scars, a memory of a deadly battle in which apprentice conquered master. It was the face of the most feared man in the galaxy.
"Oh, gods!" Leia cried out theatrically. "You're Lord Vader!"
The entire establishment gasped in unison, followed by muttered whispers and the quick, sprinted footsteps of the many who rushed to leave the building. Vader just glared at the girl through cold, blue eyes.
"Sit down," he ordered.
"Oh no, my Lord, I can't possibly be yours for an entire week! Surely I am not worthy! I heard your preferences were more…male, my lord? And aged?"
Vader stomped to his feet, ripping their table from the floor and shoving it out from between them. The glass shattered upon impact. His black gloves reached out for a tight grip on her slender shoulders.
"You ungrateful…" he hissed.
"Brat?" Leia finished. "Bitch?" She was unfazed by the height and strength that he'd seen cower the bravest man.
"Child," Vader spat. The girl laughed airily.
"You and I both know that I haven't been a child for a very long time."
Leia eyed one of his hands on her shoulder, then the other. She brought her own hands to his—ever so gently—and at first, Vader thought the gesture was a tender one.
For that moment, he relished the embrace of her hand around his. Small, delicate fingers like her mother that had wrapped around his own eighteen years ago—big, brown eyes that were always so curious of the world around them—a squirming, cooing little creature that would stare at him for hours—listening to him talk, read, sing to her—while her brother mostly just ate, slept, and cried. But they had both made him want to be the absolute best—strongest, most powerful—version of himself. To solidify their futures. Pave their paths. A futile attempt, in hindsight.
"She is interfering with the boy's training."
"Master?"
"Your daughter. She has been telling the boy to hide his power. To stop performing as instructed."
"And has he?"
"Some, but it's nothing I haven't been able to handle. And your training with the girl?"
"She is…stubborn."
"Much like you were. With Kenobi, in your youth. You were not much older than she is now, when he took you as his apprentice, were you not?"
"Yes, Master."
"Indeed. The boy is a willing enough pupil, but your daughter needs discipline, Lord Vader. Administer it, or I will."
Leia gently moved Vader's hands from her shoulders.
"A little higher, dad," she whispered. Then she clamped his hands around her own neck. "Have you forgotten how you choose to handle things? But then again, you didn't even need to have you hands on my mother's neck to strangle her to death, did you?"
Vader blinked. Then at the very speed of said blink, slapped his daughter across the cheek.
"Focus!"
"I'm trying!"
"You're not."
His blade came down towards her head, and she blocked it. He pushed.
"Dad…"
"Hold it…"
"I can't!"
"Hold it…"
"Dad, I can't!"
He pushed harder, locking eyes with the girl as she winced, holding back tears in her dark eyes. Stirring her fury. Finally she heaved several quick breaths, boiled her adrenaline, and pushed his lightsaber with her own—against the natural bends in his wrists and elbows, like he taught her.
But she didn't push him hard enough.
He struck again, and heard her wrist crack with the collision of swords.
By now, only one man remained in the club, lingering apprehensively by the stage. He met eyes with the Sith Lord and immediately fell to his knees.
"I beg of you, Lord Vader," he stammered. "Take her for a week. Two if you wish. All free of charge. My allegiance to the great Empire is no secret, my Lord!"
"She won't be coming back."
Showing fear for the first time that night, Leia looked from her employer to her father.
"No…"
Vader snatched the 400 credits from Leia's waistband and tossed them to the ground.
"I imagine this will cover the damages," he droned. "Your allegiance is appreciated."
"I'm not going back with you!" Leia exclaimed, ripping her wrist away from his attempted grasp and stretching a hand out towards their broken table. A shard of glass flew into the palm of her hand.
"Don't test me, child."
"I'm not going back!"
"You will do as I say!"
"No," she shuddered. "Never. Not after what you did to Luke."
"Your brother took his own life."
"Because of the things you told him to do!" Leia screamed, tears forming in her eyes but refusing to fall. "Because of the things you—you and Palpatine—the things you made him do!"
Jolted awake by his daughter's fear, Vader met her at the door.
"What is it?"
"Come quick."
She dragged him by the hand to her quarters, then to the bathroom, where his fifteen-year-old son sat fully-clothed in the bathtub, hugging his knees, his blue eyes wide, his face covered in blood.
"I didn't want you here, but he asked for you."
She spoke to her brother sweetly, gently, but the boy was just frozen. She touched his shoulder, then removed her hand from the black fabric and it was as if she had dipped it in red paint.
"Where is he hurt?"
"It's not his blood, dad…"
Leia shook her head vigorously. "No." Raised the glass to her throat. "No, I'll die before I become your pawn, or his."
His hands raised passively, Vader took slow steps towards his daughter.
"You can't do it," he told her gently. "You couldn't do it then…you can't do it now. You have always been stronger than your brother."
"He was my EVERYTHING!" she shouted.
"I know…"
Leia's entire body was trembling. He was within arms' reach of her now. He slowly removed his black cloak and draped it around her shoulders while just the smallest amount of deep red blood pooled on top of the glass shard at her neck.
He heard her thoughts within his own head, telling herself to plunge the knife forward, right into his chest. She wanted to do it. She wanted it terribly. She was crying openly now.
"Please don't make me go…"
Vader said nothing. Just pulled her gently to him and kissed her on the forehead. He held her, and she stood there stiffly, unmoving.
"I will never love you," she whispered.
But she didn't have to.
He took his princess by the shoulders and guided her to his ship.