Chapter 1: Light
She always believed a holding cell would be dark.
That's the thought trapped in Leia's mind. She knows it's nothing but a blockade, drowning out all the events she desperately doesn't want to think about.
It helps. A little, at least. Because everything is better than what happened, than the horrible image that wants to break through and play itself in front of her eyes over and over again. She can't feel it. Not again. Not ever again. She will cry, she will break down, she will do everything she can't because she has to keep up the facade. Make the Empire believe that she is strong, fierce, that she will sacrifice herself for the well-being of the galaxy without even the smallest hint of fear. She has to pretend that she's everything she's not.
Because the truth is, she's nothing but a frightened child who just lost everything she ever loved. And they can't know that.
So she thinks about her surroundings, the brightly-lit cell she's trapped in. She really assumed it would be dark and scary. It's not, though. And maybe the bright light is worse. In the dark at least she could make herself believe she was somewhere else. In her room back on Alderaan, for instance. But now she can't find rest or peace or privacy. And the worst thing is the loneliness. Knowing that she'll never get to go home again, that no loved one will ever hold her close again and tell her that everything will be okay... That only makes being here so much worse.
The continuous waiting that has been going on for days since she was captured is unbearable. Never knowing what will be their next move, no idea when or if anyone will ever come back for her.
At least for a few hours now she's had a goal, knows what is coming. Her execution. She will be wiped from this galaxy like her planet, go down in the fight of good against evil like so many before her.
And, to be honest, she is scared. Hell, she is frightened like she has never been before. She hopes it will be quick. Because she can't deal with pain anymore, not like she did when Darth Vader tortured her with the help of the droid, not like she did when Grandmoff Tarkin gave the order to fire on Alderaan. She wants to get it over with. No more waiting, no more agony. Just the bright light at the end of the tunnel and the possibility of maybe seeing her family again after all.
x
Ever since Vader faced the Princess for the first time, four days ago over the planet that once was his inescapable prison, he has been... Confused. That is the only way to describe what he feels.
There is something about the girl's presence, her attitude, her eyes that screams at him to look further, to search her mind and his own.
He has been in a fight with himself ever since, about whether he should inspect this feeling or just ignore it and leave her fate to Tarkin.
This is not him. He is Darth Vader, the chosen one, one of the most powerful Sith Lords the galaxy has ever seen. He doesn't have inner conflicts. He doesn't hesitate. And he most definitely doesn't doubt himself.
And then, an hour ago, in his meditation chamber, the pieces fell into place. It was a sudden realization, and just like that everything makes sense.
In the end, his final clue was reflecting about that unbreakable barrier again. Interrogations are usually easy for him. He uses the force, he can access minds and finds what he is looking for. Her mind, though, was blank. She was able to push him out, probably unintentionally, without even knowing it herself. Not even the droid could get the location of the rebel base out of her.
At first, he assumed it was just pure will and the kind of training you get as a royalty. It wouldn't make sense, though. No normal human being can withstand his ways.
But now he knows. The only logical explanation for the strange feeling of her presence, her blockade, her admirable toughness. It all makes sense.
"Master." He kneels on the holoprojector in his private chambers, the image of the Emperor in front of him a threateningly big size.
"Lord Vader," he answers in the familiar raspy voice, his face mostly covered by a black hood as usual. "What is your concern, my apprentice?"
"It is the prisoner we captivated over Tatooine, Master. The Alderaanian Princess. I believe her to be sensitive to the force. She doesn't know it, but she unconsciously used it to resist my interrogation methods. And she is strong."
There is more to the girl, he knows it deep inside. But he can't point on what it is. The force can only partly explain the things he feels whenever she is near. And it is not a reason to justify that strange sensation of familiarity every time he looks at her.
x
Leia jerks upwards from a restless nap as the door to her cell opens with a whooshing sound. She must look like a mess, but who cares how you look when you're about to die quick and lonely.
To her surprise, it's not Tarkin towering over the bench she sits on. No green uniform accompanied by a bunch of Stormtroopers.
It's Darth Vader instead, alone, his mechanical breathing echoing from the metal walls. She tries to back away, presses her body into the corner of the room, knowing there is nowhere to escape to, and is immediately thrown back to what must have been at least a day ago already. His dark figure entering her cell just like he did now, but followed by a round droid. She was afraid, then, not knowing what was about to happen.
It's worse now. Because she does know. She has felt the indescribable pain and suffer before. Why can't they ever get enough? People like Vader and Tarkin, they're never satisfied until their enemy dies in agony. They won't make it as fast and painless as she hoped.
The next thing that happens surprises her even more than the identity of her visitor. His modified voice haunted her in the few hours of sleep she got over the last days, how cold and careless he questioned her while she was on the floor, crying out in torment. She thought she would never have to hear him again.
"The Emperor wishes to see you, Your Highness."
She doesn't react. Not physically, anyway. But her mind is racing. Emperor Palpatine in person. And he wants to see her? Why?
She has never met him, only seen him from far away in the senatorial building on Coruscant. She has heard his scratchy, slow voice from the Alderaanian pod, but has never spoken to him directly. He is the head of the Galactic Empire, but barely anyone knows what he is really like.
Vader seems annoyed by her ignorance – if he can even experience things like that, annoyance, pity, compassion, normal human emotions – and she feels his leather gloves through the thin material of her dress as he roughly pulls her to her feet by her arm.
But the hand beneath that glove... It's not made of flesh. It's just a metal frame.
She has no idea why that realization shocks her so much. It's only logical that he must have some reason for wearing a full-body suit with life-sustaining machines. But still... He is just like everyone else hiding their wounded insides behind a barrier. For some it's a bottle of alcohol, a smug exterior or fighting a war. For him it's dark leather and metal.
She winces as Vader grabs her upper arm even tighter and shoves her through the door, then continues to pull her along the corridor of the detention block, followed by two Stormtroopers, at a pace she can't keep up with. Doesn't he realize how fragile she is? He and his allies, they did that to her. They let her starve for days. The dark Lord himself tortured her to unconsciousness which she still hasn't recovered from – physically and mentally likewise. Her legs tremble every time she even tries to walk from one side of her cell to the other, threatening to give up any moment. She is a shadow of the Princess she was no more than a week ago. She was happy, passionate, rebellious, loved.
All she is now is helpless and weak.
She is exhausted when they finally arrive at their destination, on the edge of breaking down in front of Vader's feet. It's humiliating how she struggles when forcing her legs up the ramp of the shuttle.
She can't see the opening of the hangar, but they must be somewhere over Coruscant. At least that's where the Emperor spends most of his days, deciding over the fate of billions of life forms from his palace in the Senate District on the Empire's capital planet.
She's relieved as her hands and knees meet the metal floor of the single cell on the shuttle and she knows she won't have to stand up for at least a few minutes. She slowly sinks further down until her whole body rests against the cold material, not caring what the two Stormtroopers in the door might think of her. She doesn't see Vader anymore, he has probably left for the cockpit.
Suddenly, her eyes open in blank horror when she hears a voice right behind her. Too familiar, hated. She wants this man dead, he wants her executed. The difference is that he actually has a chance of getting his way.
"Too bad, Your Highness. I was ready to witness your last breath. But it seems the Emperor has other plans for your insignificant life."
She uses all her power to turn around and sit up, look into the eyes of the mass murderer in front of her. Tarkin has an evil smile on his lips as always. How can he wipe out the residents of a whole planet with a snip of his finger and not even show the tiniest amount of guilt or regret?
"Seems like you have to wait out on that one, Tarkin. Too bad." It takes everything of her to say those words. Once again, she's pretending. She's a lot of things, but most definitely not casual or fearless about her death sentence.
"Still so mouthy, Princess. You should lose some of that before we arrive in Imperial City. The Emperor won't appreciate your humor like I do."
"And I thought all monsters were the same."
There's an unsettling silence following her reckless statement. For a moment she actually fears he will hit or kick her. He could do to her what he wants, she is defenseless.
She holds her breath, knowing she has gone too far and awaits the punishment that will undoubtedly follow.
Instead, he laughs. He genuinely laughs and that scares her even more than any physical harm he could have done to her. Because the word monster doesn't even come anywhere near what he is. He is worse, one of the most vicious living beings she has ever met. A whole planet just ceased to exist because of his order and he doesn't show the tiniest amount of emotions, much less any that resemble guilt or regret.
Until now. Now he seems to be amused. And that just proves the theory she's had all along, for the only expression that could potentially describe this dangerous man: he's a psychopath.
x
She flinches as the turbolift comes to a jerking halt. This is it, she thinks. She's in the Imperial Palace, flanked by Vader and two Stormtroopers, her hands cuffed in front of her. And there's nothing but a door separating her from the most dangerous human being in the Galaxy.
She doesn't know too much about Palpatine – no one does – but she has heard and read some facts about him over the years. He is the leader of the Empire, the founder since he ended the Galactic Republic nineteen years ago, around the time she was born. He accused the whole Jedi Order of treason and let them be slaughtered by the clone troops and his apprentice.
No one suspected a thing. He rightfully worked his way up from Senator of Naboo to Chancellor, and finally declared himself the Emperor. All the while being the Sith Lord that terrorized the whole Galaxy without anyone knowing about his second identity.
He is a genius, a tactician, but sometimes lead by greed instead of rationality, which has brought the Alliance a few victories over time.
But most importantly, he is cruel, merciless. He kills without a second thought, enslaves entire species, takes children from their families to brainwash and train them. He controls everything and everyone. And all his actions benefit him alone.
Palpatine is another addition to the list of monsters she has gotten to know over the last few days.
The door slides open with the familiar swoosh and she shudders as a cool breeze hits her. She wonders if the sudden coldness is actually a physical change of temperature or just the sensation of evil.
Vader's gloved hand on her back signalizes her to step through the door and into the dimly-lit room. The Stormtroopers follow and the door closes behind them again. She wishes she could still be on the other side.
As they walk further into the room, it only seems to get chillier and goose bumps rise on her skin.
Then she sees it. A few steps above ground level is a big, black throne, currently turned away from them to face the round window, surrounded by a few men dressed in red – his Royal Guards.
She wants nothing but to turn around and run. She doesn't like this at all. Hates the way even Vader is oddly quiet with respect, maybe even fear.
They stop in front of the steps and suddenly her captors kneel on the metal floor. She doesn't want to do the same, considers to stay where she is out of defiance. Palpatine has no right to hold her captive and demand her presence.
That decision is taken from her when a Stromtrooper pushes her to the ground beside them. With her hands tied together, she would have almost lost balance and landed with her face on the floor, but manages hold herself up on elbows and knees instead.
Her eyes wander upward as the throne begins to turn slowly and in agonizing silence. She can see his silhouette, hidden beneath dark robes. His lower face comes into view, pale and scarred as she has seen on holos, but it looks worse in reality.
She feels her own heartbeat quicken in anticipation and fear. Her father knew the Emperor personally, before the Jedi allegedly attacked and injured him, before his true identity was revealed. But ever since, Palpatine has mostly stayed inside his palace, ruling over the Galaxy from his throne.
She has heard so much about him and still knows so little. The most powerful man in the Galaxy.
And now she is here, in front of him.
He pulls back his hood to inspect her. She fears she will freeze and burn under his gaze at the same time, his eyes a glowing yellow, contrasting the white and black of his surroundings.
Her handcuffs suddenly open and loosen from her wrists without anyone touching them. She only notices a slight movement of Palpatine's hand.
The Royal Guards leave.
And as he finally speaks, his voice slow and rough, she gets the bizarre feeling that maybe an execution would have been more pleasant than whatever is happening here.
AN: Hey, thanks to whoever read this far. I hope you liked it. If you did (even if you didn't) I would love to hear your thoughts.
(Also I'm not a native speaker, so just ignore the few mistakes I probably made.)