And the updating schedule goes out the window!

Okay, I'm not happy with this chapter, but I'm tired and it's sort of a point a to point b thing before I can get onto the juicier plot points I had planned. So here it is.


Emperor's Hands were supposed to be subtle, (for lack of a better word) underhanded and—above all—invisible. It was rare that they stopped to use medbays.

But... well, Luke supposed that when Mara was on Coruscant and had access to facilities like the private medbay of the Imperial Palace, she didn't need to concern herself with such things.

He knew she was in there—he could sense her—but he reported to the office at the front as per protocol anyway. It would probably get back to his father—no, it would definitely get back to his father—but after last night, and what Leia had said this morning, he found he didn't particularly care.

He was on edge. Verbal sparring with Mara always took that edge off. And...

He was worried.

(He did not allow himself to think the word guilty.)

The head medic gave him a hard, narrow look, but waved him along. "The patient has just awoken."

Luke smiled and thanked the man, then grimaced on his way in.

Then, when he reached Mara's bed, pushed into a corner, he grinned.

It was empty.

"You're clearly feeling better." He addressed the ceiling, but didn't look up from the bare pillow; his eyebrows went up instead.

There was a grunt, then Mara dropped from her awkward position braced between the walls to land on the bed. It boinged surprisingly loudly; Luke had to stifle a laugh.

He didn't bother stifling it when he glanced up to see the air vent hanging open.

He folded his arms across his chest, mock sternly. "Weren't you under orders to remain in here until fully and perfectly healed?"

"I was under orders to not interfere with the ongoing investigation, since I'd already failed in my duty once," she snapped back. Luke noticed that the injuries the bacta patches and bandages were covering... didn't match the injuries he'd— Mara had received the previous night.

He decided not to dwell on it.

He raised an eyebrow instead. "So you're being rebellious?"

"No," she bit back. Her horror at his tease seemed... unwarranted. "I can do it—I hate Angel, and I want revenge on him"—Luke tried to hide his flinch—"so I can do it. Master always says we're supposed to use our anger, our suffering, our hate; if I can just prove to him that I can do it—"

"By injuring yourself further?" He gave her torso a pointed look. There was dark stain spreading across her front.

She scowled. "Are you even supposed to be in here?"

"Got permission to visit."

"From whom?"

They both knew, and Luke didn't particularly want to think about the way Palpatine had smiled when he'd asked for clearance—especially in light of what his father had told him—so he just snorted. "'Whom.'"

"Some of us were taught to speak Basic correctly, academy brat."

He just rolled his eyes. "Either way, it's not a good idea to make your injuries even worse."

"I'm not required to listen to you."

"How'd you even get the air vent open, anyway?"

She narrowed her eyes at his amused tone. "Why ask? You clearly already know."

He grinned and unfurled his fingers. A thin pocket knife lay on his palm.

"You thief." She summoned it to her hand immediately—even that tiny touch of the dark side made Luke feel cold—and glared. "You were by the pillow for two seconds, how did you—"

"Sheer skill." He smiled.

"No. No, no, no. Don't give me that angelic look—!"

He smiled wider.

She grumbled, "I hate you."

A pang in his chest, guilt—then he hid it behind another grin. "How flattering."

She glowered.

He sighed. "Would you like me to leave?"

She hesitated.

"Well," she said. "Considering I'm apparently confined to the medbay, and you came to entertain me..."

Luke laughed.

"Get to it, Skywalker."


"Jade or Organa?" Vader called out the moment Luke stepped into the apartment. "Or a different one of these friends of yours I would disapprove of?"

"All of the above, technically," Luke said, crushing the guilt he felt just thinking about Leia. He could not tell his father about this— "And we agreed not to talk about it."

"I expressed no negative opinions."

Luke rolled his eyes, but laughed a little. "Whatever you say, Father."

He finally entered the living room, and glanced at his father, standing in his vigil by the window. "And shouldn't you be up on the Executor, terrorising her crew? It's sixteen hundred hours."

"Piett is perfectly capable of keeping her running smoothly without me... terrorising them all," came the prim response. "And I had hoped to speak to you."

"Oh?" Luke swallowed; violent, irrational fear that his father had found out about what Leia had said flashed through him. "What about?"

His father turned away from the window to face him, then, hands still tightly clasped behind his back. His voice held palpable disgust. "Palpatine remains interested in your prospects, and continues to suggest that you attend the academy on Coruscant. If we are to persuade him otherwise, we need to consider all potential options and assess their strengths and weaknesses."

"Okay," Luke said. "And what if I want to go there?"

Vader froze.

His mask was angled towards Luke; he fidgeted under that blank stare, awkward in how...

"Why?"

Astounded. That was the word. How astounded his father was.

Luke swallowed. "Well—"

"I am aware you expressed this interest before. I had assumed you were not serious. Why would you ever want to stay near him for any longer than you had to?"

Luke closed his eyes. Because I'm an infamous Rebel thief who relies on the political and social landscape of this planet for my stunts?

"Because I've suddenly developed an insatiable need to become a military officer."

His father made an audible noise of disgust and stared. "You must be joking."

"Alright, I was. But—"

"Is this about Jade or Organa? Because of them? So you can stay close to them? Because if so—"

"No!" Luke choked out. No, he had to draw the conversation away; if his father pried too far into the subject of Leia...

...what? He'd find out about his sister and probably kill the Organas in his rage?

Or he'd find out about Luke's activities?

Which would be worse?

"Leave them out of it," he ground out. "This has nothing to do with them."

"Then why—"

"Because I want to be with you!"

Vader froze for the second time in as many minutes.

Luke barrelled on, hating himself for the deception, but this was for Leia, for the Rebellion— "We've said as much before. I want to be with you, work with you, but I don't want it to be because of who you are, I want to get there on my merits, who I am, and—"

"I understand, Luke."

"You..." Luke blinked, taking deep breaths. "You do?"

"I do. I am convinced you are wrong," he added pointedly, "but... I know you crave independence. I will allow you to come to your own conclusion on this; I have faith that, with all the information, you will reach the correct one."

Luke huffed. His father was not subtle. "I am taking the Sith training into account here," he complained. "No need to treat me like a naive child."

"You're my naive child," his father shot back... then paused.

And Luke realised what he'd said.

"...and where you hear anything about Sith training, young one?"

Was that fear he sensed from his father? He didn't know. It was drowned out by Luke's crashing panic.

"I—"

"Has Palpatine approached you?" he demanded. "Threatened or promised anything? Cajoled?"

Luke relaxed—marginally. "No," he said hoarsely. "I just... figured that was part of the reason he wanted me to stay on Coruscant. So he could train me himself."

Relief flooded their bond. "Good." Luke felt guilty at his own relief. "If he does, inform me immediately."

"I will."

"Promise me."

Luke sighed. Sat himself down on one of the sofas—slumped, more like—and nodded.

He murmured, "I promise."

His father stepped forward and rested a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I will arrange for a tour of the academy soon," he said. "I do not like it, but if, by the end of it all, this is still your wish... I will support your choices. I always will."

Luke hoped Vader thought he was crying because he was touched.

"I love you too, Father," he choked out.


"Breathe in," her master's voice said, calm and clear as the mountain streams trickling around them, "and breathe out. In. . . out, in. . . out."

Leia closed her eyes and followed the instructions, the Force wheeling about her lazily. It felt good to be back on Alderaan—she was lucky that her home planet was close enough to Coruscant that she could pop back for a day or two at such short notice, without missing too many important Senate meetings. She let that gladness dance around her in the Force as well, until this little glade on Appenza Peak they always used for meditation shone in the Force, tension melting from her shoulders as she slipped into the rhythm of the universe...

After a while—it could have been seconds, or hours, or days—Leia heard a faint chime that drew her out of it. Opposite her, Ahsoka also opened her eyes and smiled at her, a little wickedly.

"You feel less tense, now," she teased.

Leia smiled back. "I do. This always helps."

"How goes the Rebellion in the capital?"

Leia rolled her eyes. "Slowly. Frustratingly so." She shrugged a little, smiling wider. "But it has its advantages."

She'd brought a pack all the way up here, slung over her back as Ahsoka made her jog the mountain like she had every day when she'd first started to train her. Leia didn't reach for that pack right now, not with her hands, but she did stretch out towards it, feeling for the pale blue glow inside—

And tossing it at her master.

Ahsoka caught it lightly, looking amused... then her eyes widened as it dawned on her what she was holding.

"What—" She half-gasped, half-laughed, turning the holocron over in her hands. "How did you get this?"

"You gave me a holo of it, didn't you? I knew what it looked like, and you mentioned that it would be useful, so of course I was gonna find it." She paused, then added, "Or at least, find someone who could find it."

"I gave you those holos to show you what holocrons looked like, not to go rampaging on some heist in a Sith's vault," Ahsoka chided. "Where was it? Who got it?"

"It was in Palpatine's personal vault."

Ahsoka stared in disbelief for several moments. "Who got it? Did they—"

"He got out alright, he's fine." Leia held up her hands. "And you ought to know who got it—you came up with the name. Angel." She smiled slyly. "He hates it, by the way; he told me it was like you knew it would piss Vader off."

"Good," Ahsoka muttered. But she added: "That was the intention. I've heard Vader talk about angels... a suspicious amount, in another lifetime." She winked, but looked distracted. "I'm pretty sure it had something to do with that woman he was absolutely not allowed to be in a relationship with—the woman who must have been the mother of that son of his." She looked distracted for a second—pensive.

Ahsoka had known Luke's mother?

Possibly?

Leia wanted to ask—Luke had never actually confided in her who, exactly, would ever be strange enough to want to have a child with the embodiment of darkness himself—but she held her tongue. She didn't actually know what Ahsoka had done during the Clone Wars, but she was sure there was a reason she never spoke about it. Or about why she wasn't technically even a Jedi, anymore.

But she was curious.

Luke's last name was Skywalker. Did that mean Luke had been the Hero With No Fear that Vader had adopted, or had Luke's mother been a relative of the man? Her friend had never told her—had never been allowed to tell her—and yet she was being taught by a woman who knew all the answers! It was too convenient.

...it was far too convenient.

"And speaking of that," Ahsoka murmured. The holocron hovered a few inches above her hand and opened, the pieces shifting like one of those colourful puzzles Leia had been fascinated with as a child. A hologram appeared. "I have something to show you, seeing as you managed to return the only holocron of your father to me."

"Keeping your saber moving is key to deflecting fire from multiple adversaries..."

Leia sucked in a breath and inched forward, around, to see the figure's—her father's—face more clearly. He didn't look anything like her, she thought: he had pale eyes and pale hair—similar to Luke's, even, though the colouring of the holocron obscured that somewhat.

"...I've made some... adjustments to the classic Form IV technique that I think you'll find work well against droids and other ranged attackers..."

In fact, the longer she looked, the more that initial rush of excitement began to fade away and the more similarities she saw between him and Luke. The chin, the shape of the eyes, the hair... The way he tilted his head; the stocky, solid pose the man in the holocron adopted to wield the lightsaber that served someone of his stature much better than it had ever served Luke; even some of the inflections in his voice.

Wait.

Luke's voice and accent, already that strange hybrid of Coruscanti, the heavy syllables and emphasis of his father and that dialect specific to the academy.

Of his father...

And Leia realised.

"Is this Anakin Skywalker?" she asked.

Ahsoka... looked startled. "Yes," she said. "How did you know?"

Leia didn't answer. Her head was spinning.

Then she was leaning forward again, even more eagerly than before. She could definitely see Luke in him; her friend had to be his biological son, then, adopted by Vader. Her—

Her

Luke's stunned expression back in the gardens was starting to make sense, now.

"I guessed," she said, watching the holocron loop with a growing smile on her face. "He looks so much like— like a friend of mine."

"Yes." Ahsoka twitched. "About that."

Leia frowned.

"Your father isn't dead."

She frowned deeper... then she thought of Luke.

"He survived, but as a twisted, evil version of his former self—he was the one we've been trying to hide you from, all these years."

From thinking about Luke, it was not difficult to deduce what came next.

"Vader?" she asked quietly.

Ahsoka looked pained. "Vader," she confirmed. "Leia, I'm sorry."

"So." She tried to wrestle the smile off her face—Ahsoka's confusion was only mounting and mounting and mounting in the Force—but she couldn't quite. "That means—"

"Vader is your father," Ahsoka confirmed. "Leia, I'm so sorry—"

"—Luke is my brother?"

"...what?"

Ahsoka's brow furrowed. "Luke?"

Leia nodded eagerly, gesturing to the holocron. "Luke Skywalker. Vader's son."

Ahsoka tilted her head. "You know him?"

"He was at the academy when I was forced to go there," she said. She was practically bouncing where she sat. "Luke Skywalker. He's my best friend."

"Your—" Ahsoka blinked. "Your best friend is Darth Vader's son?"

"Yes! I need to tell him—"

"Don't."

Leia blinked. Ahsoka looked... terrified.

"Leia..." She shook her head. "He stands to inherit the Empire, he's the heir to the Sith—"

"You just said he's my brother!"

"And Vader is your father!"

Ahsoka stretched a hand out towards her. Leia's eyes automatically found the slight discolouration between skin and synthskin; then she understood her master's fear.

"Obi-Wan was trying to smuggle Luke to safety when Vader hunted him down and left him with a smoking hole in his chest," Ahsoka said, "ripped the baby screaming from his arms! That child has been with Vader, and Palpatine, ever since." Her voice softened. "You can't tell him this. How do you know he wasn't assigned to get close to you and betray you?"

"He's..." How could she even think that? "He's Luke, that's why! She shook her head. "He's my best friend."

"You can't tell him," Ahsoka urged. "If he tells his father, and Vader finds out..."

That... did quiet her for a moment.

Luke was her brother. That was something to be rejoiced at. But Vader...

She did not want Vader for a father.

A murderer, a tyrant, who'd run through this Obi-Wan to retrieve his infant son; what would he do for his teenage daughter?

Still.

"I'm going to tell him," Leia said. Ahsoka opened her mouth to object and Leia barrelled on before she could. "You can't stop me, I am going to tell him. And besides," she added, "I'm pretty sure he already knows."

Ahsoka froze. "How?"

"Because I've never seen him look more surprised than when I told him the man on this holocron was my biological father," she said. "Nor excited."

"You—" Ahsoka looked so, so confused, poor woman. "You told him? About the holocron?"

"Of course. It was Luke who risked everything to get me the holocron."

"What?"

Leia hadn't told anyone this. The only person who knew the full truth about Angel were her and Luke; even Han didn't know who, exactly, Luke was. It was better that way for secrecy.

And it made it a thrilling secret to tell.

Leia smiled. "Who do you think it is running around and adopting your nickname Angel?"

Ahsoka stared.

Stared some more.

Her mouth opened and closed like a Mon Calamari's.

Finally, she shook her head, laughed, and said something that... didn't quite make sense to Leia.

She said, "Padmé's child indeed."


Yellow eyes narrowed on a grainy holo. Specifically, on the figure in the holo, glancing wildly around the office of the (now late) Senator of Nubia, before listening at the door and leaping for the air vent in the ceiling, vanishing from sight.

He had viewed this sequence dozens of times in the last hour. The dark side fuelled his meditations in a heady rush of eagerness and offence at this slight, slippery burglar breaching his most sacred of sanctuaries. Oh, when this Angel was caught he would see them strung limb from limb for their daring, their agony would be boundless...

But only when Angel was caught. And no amount of the dark side would help him catch them now: he'd left no trace, save tracks that petered out after a mere few metres, a shattered wall. That Jade had fought them suggested they'd entered through the few basement corridors of the Jedi Temple that hadn't been converted into his palace, for whatever reason; they would have more guards patrolling down there from now on.

But he suspected it wouldn't help. Angel was unlikely to return here again; they'd clearly only come for one thing. The entire array of his Sith collection had lain at their fingertips, and yet they'd taken one holocron.

Interesting.

Skywalker's apprentice still lived, he knew. She was perhaps the only one who may have an interest in a token of a dead, scorned past; her, or any of the other brats who fancied themselves Jedi. Fancied themselves worthy of the power they scraped from what few midichlorians their blood brimmed with.

Power...

He could sense nothing of this attack, but those he controlled might well be able to. Vader, perhaps, though the man had never had much luck in the way of visions; no. Young Skywalker would be a better choice.

He would summon him as soon as possible then, he decided. Reticent or not, that boy held galaxies of strength in his slim frame and it would be made to serve him eventually.

Then those eyes narrowed as the holo repeated itself.

Slim frame...

Angel leapt into the air vent and shimmied through.

Not many human adults were small enough to fit in there.

Interesting.

But that was all it was: interesting. He turned away from the holo in disgust, peering out into the darkness of his throne room. Skywalker would come here tomorrow morning, he decided, and would tell him what he saw; he would not be allowed to leave until he had.

There was a threat building in his Empire. It was not major yet, but it had the potential to be—like a droplet that started a flood.

Like a spark that started a blaze.

Coruscant's guardian angel had to be caught before they could embarrass his regime any further. And especially before Vader could use them as an excuse to pull his son further out of his grasp.

Palpatine steepled his fingers, elbows on the arms of his throne, and plotted.