Kessel Run Week Six Challenge: Write an AU (alternate universe) story of at least 500 words where the moral alignment of one of your characters is the opposite of (or drastically different from) what it is in canon and/or Legends (or the source material, for OCs or non-SW fandoms). For example: Qui-Gon as a Sith Lord, Tarkin as a Rebel, etc. No maximum word limit.
6: The Emperor's Hand (approximately 4 ABY)
The Emperor's Hand stood respectfully just inside the door to the throne room, soothed by its dark opulence, and waited.
At the end of the room was the throne itself, and in it sat the very embodiment of majesty and justice, the person who had rescued the galaxy from chaos and who even now maintained order despite threats from both without and within.
The Emperor's Hand was deeply familiar with the latter. It was astonishing how so many who knew very well the consequences of treason still attempted it.
"And send a message to Viceroy Organa," the Emperor was saying, "regarding his most recent meeting with Senator Mothma, about which he thinks me to be ignorant. Ensure that it is diplomatically yet unmistakably worded. It would be a great unpleasantness were the Death Star required to make orbit around a Core World."
"At once, Your Excellency." Mas Amedda bowed deeply, and at a gesture from the Emperor, he turned and departed, glancing only briefly at the Emperor's Hand as he did.
The Emperor's eyes turned toward the dark figure by the door. "Come, my child." His expression warmed as the Emperor's Hand dutifully approached. "Your mission was successful?"
The Hand went down on one knee before the throne, the pose as natural as breathing. "It was, my lord."
A smile graced the Emperor's face. "Your abilities, it would seem, match even your loyalty. Go, then, my child. The briefs for your next mission will be ready soon."
Nico Jade inclined his head, his response as automatic as it was reverent. "Yes, my lord."
The sun was just beginning to sink into the thin veil of clouds along the western horizon, the endless spires and towers of Imperial City glinting and sparking in the angled light as the lines of traffic wove seemingly endless lines of color and noise between the buildings. Nico leaned against the chest-high wrought-stone railing at the edge of the Palace roof and watched it all, at peace with himself and the galaxy at large.
A peace that lasted until the door out on to the roof opened twenty meters behind him. The familiar voice was soft, but unmistakable. "I thought I'd find you up here."
"Since when do you need to guess?" Nico turned to watch as his fellow Hand approached.
"I'd heard you were back," his sister said, ignoring the question. Mara always had been single-minded. "How did it go?"
Nico shrugged. "The Emperor's justice was dispensed."
"Yes," Mara murmured.
"When's your next mission?" It was more idle curiosity than anything. Although the Emperor had allowed them to maintain association as they grew up, it had been limited, and they had never worked together. Entirely reasonable, Nico felt. After all, nothing was more important than the Emperor, and their rare privilege of helping him maintain the Empire.
Mara shrugged. Stepping closer to stand beside him, she also gazed out over the city. "So many people and lights," she said. "And how many of them matter in our work?"
Nico frowned. "All of them. You know that."
"Or none of them, and it's all been a lie from the start."
The frown deepened. "I thought you'd gotten past this nonsense a long time ago."
"You never told him about what I said, did you?" Mara turned toward him at last, her eyes a deep emerald green in the deepening twilight. "Of course you didn't; I'm still alive. Why didn't you tell him, Nico?"
Nico shifted uncomfortably. "You're good at what you do—when you're not on this ridiculous idea, anyway. I didn't want the Empire deprived of your service."
"Is that it? Is it really?" She tilted her head.
"Of course," Nico snapped.
Mara turned back to look over the city again, then back at him. "I'm leaving. Come with me."
The breath froze in his lungs. Mara didn't seem to notice. "I have a ship," she continued. "It's ISB; it has all the capabilities and IDs we'd need to stay unnoticed for a long time. Plus credits and weapons. We could even find a contact and join the Rebellion; they're good at hiding. Even Vader hasn't flushed many out."
That broke the spell, and Nico's response burst out of him like rushing water through a crumbled dam. "What are you talking about? Have you gone insane?"
His voice was louder than he'd meant it to be, but Mara never moved a millimeter, her gaze holding his. "What is there for us here?"
"What is there—" Outrage tied his tongue for a moment. But only for a moment. "We maintain order! We uphold justice! We have the respect of Moffs, Grand Admirals, the Emperor himself—"
"We do nothing of the sort," Mara said quietly. "Nor do we have anyone's respect. He uses us, and he'll discard us whenever we outlive that use."
"You're mad," Nico all but spat. She reached a hand out toward him, and he pulled away. "I'm not going anywhere. And neither are you."
"I am," Mara replied, still quietly. "Nico, please. It's because of me that you're in this hell in the first place—"
"'Hell'?" Nico echoed disbelievingly. A noble purpose of which most could only dream, the favor of the Emperor, the luxury of the Palace—
"He took me because I'm Force-sensitive. He took you because you wouldn't let go of me. I remember it, even if you don't."
A wisp of memory drifted through his consciousness like the last gasp of smoke from an extinguished candle: clinging to his adored big sister as a figure in red dragged her away. Desperate voices, familiar yet unknown, begging, pleading. Mara's wide eyes looking behind them, over his head. He shook his head, banishing the vision.
"It doesn't matter where we came from. It matters what we do now."
His sister had always been good at emotional control, but now her expression was tight and pain was growing behind her eyes. "Nico—"
"No," Nico snapped.
Mara took a step backward at last. "All right. But I'll find you someday, Nico."
Nico reached for his blaster, and found that he couldn't unholster it, or even lift his hand. He glared ferociously at Mara. "Knock it off."
She actually smiled at that, unshed tears beginning to shine in her eyes. "If you weren't trying to shoot me, maybe I would."
"I only shoot traitors," he growled. "If you insist on putting yourself in that category—"
"It's not treason to escape a prison," Mara said, taking another step backward. Nico took a step toward her, then heard the slight creak of the door she'd come through.
"That's far enough," came a new voice.
Nico turned his head. A young blonde man, about Mara's age and wearing a TIE pilot's uniform, was standing there, holding a blaster trained firmly on Nico.
Mara lifted a hand, speaking to the newcomer while still watching Nico. "Not yet." She began walking backward toward the door, her eyes still fixed on him.
"Wait!" Mara paused, hope flaring in her eyes, and Nico knew a moment's grim satisfaction at the thought of crushing it with his next words. "Why did you tell me any of this? Why broadcast treason when you could have just left?"
Mara was very still for a long moment, her expression turning to stone as she brought herself under the ruthless control that was so familiar. "Because you're my brother, and that still matters. Certainly more than any loyalty to the man who stole us in the first place. And," she added much more quietly, "because Mommy told me to take care of you."
"We could stun him and take him with us," the young man at the door offered.
"No," Mara said softly. "He has all the same training and resources that I do. If we take him unwillingly, he'll find a way to sabotage us."
"And if you leave," Nico said, quietly, dangerously, "he'll never stop looking for you. You know what he does to traitors."
Mara shook her head, her pale red hair gleaming and gilded in the sun's final rays. "He has to find me first. And he trained me well. I'll find you, Nico. I will." She looked over at the other man. "Go ahead, Luke."
The blue rings of a stun blast hit him before Nico could say anything more.
It was darkest night before he awoke, but the Emperor was still holding court in the main ballroom, and Nico had no difficulty in gaining an audience. His subsequent rage all but emptied the room of the social climbers that had filled it a moment before. Nico remained kneeling before the throne, his head bowed, as the Emperor stood, energy crackling ominously around him.
"And yet you are here," the Emperor said.
"I am loyal to you, my lord," Nico answered. "Not to her."
"Yes," the Emperor replied, his voice dropping to a low growl. "It seems it was as well that I found you both, despite your lack of strength in the Force." Nico felt the weight of that yellow glare upon him, and stayed motionless. The Emperor slowly reseated himself. "Loyalty is the quality I most value, and the one I will always show in return to those who are loyal to me. As you are, Nico. Now go, and display your loyalty to the fullest by hunting down your traitorous sister and her helper, and bringing them back to me to face justice."
Nico lifted his head at last, and met the Emperor's eyes evenly. "It will be done, my lord."