Leia Vader laid, hands wantonly thrown to her sides, on the cold marble floor of her father's palace. He breathing was heavy as she meditated, focusing on her father's sleek, black meditation pod and the calling darkness within. She existed in the surge of anger the view created. She was Lord Vader's only child, his daughter. He called her his equal, confided in her, comforted her, shared with her, and trusted her explicitly. He valued no one in the entire galaxy's life but hers. Why then? Why had he closed this door? In the year that she'd served the Emperor and her father, he had never allowed her to see his face.
Perhaps he thought her too immature to understand, thought that she would loose her respect or be disgusted by his appearance. Didn't he know that a faith like hers was unshakable by anything? A mere aesthetic didn't matter; she knew he had weaknesses, as did she. Did he not realize she loved him? It hurt, reminiscent of Hoth ice shards, but he had never spoken the token phrase passed between those of deep emotion, never said he loved her. He'd acknowledged pride, and she reveled in that. He complimented her as the owner of a prize examines its assets. How long, if ever, until he told her she was loved?
He loved Luke, she thought bitterly before realizing what she had said. She hardly ever spoke of her brother anymore, or even thought his name. An officer had murmured "Thank the gods she's the only child he has," only a month ago, and she'd to awkwardly escaped the room to sob uninterrupted in the long, gray, hall.
Her days as angel of the rebellion were over. Her father was an Imperial, and how could anything her father thought be wrong? He would never deceive her. Besides, she'd failed at the task, letting her twin die. If she was ever meant to have that honor, why hadn't she protected him? Why had she encouraged him, helped him study the path of his murders, the Jedi. They didn't care about Luke; they didn't care about anyone save themselves, scornful hypocrites who denied any truth but their own. All they wanted was the rebirth of the precious order, and they didn't care who they hurt to get there. The ordeal had made her stronger, more cunning, less naive. And just as he had promised her, they were together. She still needed him to need her. Her father was her anchor, his opinions, however cold to critics, made sense and saved lives. And who cared what he did? He was human, and though he wouldn't say the words, she knew, or maybe just wanted to know, he loved her. Love made everything right, turned monsters into gods, and turned a hated nemesis into a layered, beloved father.
She straightened mechanically, snapping her legs and arms out and trying a kick that could have hit her astronomically tall father in the mouth, just to be sure she could. A daily hour of exercise ensured that she could defend herself with or without the Force. Then came force training, piloting lessons, tactics, and dueling practice with her father. She'd moved past seekers, and was now using a milder version of his own practice droids. Hard work, all of it, but no harder than the rest of her life, and certainly much more difficult than killing Yoda had been. She smirked. They picked that misfit to run the Jedi? No wonder Anakin left.
The Executor was as much a home to her now as Corouscant. A Mara Jade had been ordered to show her around, explain the latest nuisances of Court politics. She liked the candid, sarcastic girl, felt almost as if she had known her for a lifetime. What was it that connected them? Perhaps it was just there shared Force sensitivity. She absently wondered if Luke would have liked her.
With a last glance at her father's orb, she concluded he was too weary to come out and socialize. With a fond smile, she lay back on the unadorned floor she'd slept on since the Hoth tragedy. Comforts like beds no longer seemed vital. Why encumber herself with something so needless? "Goodnight Father." She whispered telepathically. "Goodnight my daughter." Came the reply. She smiled. He'd never called another daughter, she alone had that power. Father held such meaning to her when she spoke to him, a full moon next to the waning imitation of Bail Organa. With that she slept, thoughts whirling for their audience with the Emperor tomorrow.
Thrawn walked as briskly as always. Almost twelve months ago he'd been called to Corouscant as fast as his ship could speed. Palpatine had commanded a personal audience, and no mission could out prioritize that trump card. The red-cloaked guards parted, and there stood the Emperor in his dark glory, gazing out over the city. Thrawn saluted sharply.
"Come, my friend." He ordered casually. "My Corouscant. The very emblem of the Empire. I never cease to marvel at it intricacies, and yet I know that someday I will no longer be able to watch over it. Corouscant existed before me, but its Empire can not." He turned to gaze at the Grand Admiral intently. "There is a new player in our little game. Her name is Leia Vader, age twenty-two. The Dark Lord's daughter and apprentice. The Empire, as you may have guessed, requires the Force's power to continue. That is how I created it from the ashes of the dying Republic, and that is how it must live on. For reasons you, despite your capability, are not qualified to understand, it requires one of Vader's line, thus this girl-child. Yet I have come to realize that it requires something else. Do you know what that might be?" Thrawn shook his head. In Palpatine's twisted, sanity purged mind, any myriad of possibilities could have been the perfect solution. "You, my friend. We wage a war against decay when we need a war for expansion. She is a prodigal diplomat, gifted in the Force. She had all the stigma of her father, and could be called visionary by the most selective citizens. You supply new territory, she can supply the Empire. You must go beyond jaunts into the unknown territories. You must conquer the universe."
Thrawn looked collected, yet inwardly he was shell-shocked. Palpatine was talking about the next Emperor, and that next emperor being Thrawn. No scheming, no uncertainty, he would rule the galaxy! Yet, if he understood, at his right arm was to be this unknown. He had respect for Vader's policies and gifts, his integrity was unquestioned. Yet whom did that make his daughter? Being in the Unknown Regions, far too remote for broadcast, he knew a bare minimum about her. Of course, as soon as he was in range he'd gathered intelligence about the political scene and learned of her, but she was a new girl, stuck close to her father and wisely revealed nothing about her personality until she could stand on her own, without threat of being a weakness to the man. Of course he knew she had been Organa, but if the apparently unshakable faith in the Rebellion was gone what else was? Her temper wasn't in evidence as she'd coldly ordered the attack on a Rebel shipyard. She'd killed or ordered the deaths of over five thousand of her former comrades, including a Wedge Antilies she apparently knew through a fallen best friend. She had even, in another maneuver, piloted a TIE advance and done spectacularly against a top Rebel squadron. It didn't match up. Who WAS this woman?
Palpatine watched him. "To make something clear, my friend." Palpatine said absently as he strolled to his throne. "She is not you're subordinate. She is your equal. I do not expect an answer today. Aquatint yourself with her, then decide. You may go."
Leia sat in the window, drifting absently a few feet above the velvet seat. She leafed through the old book in her hands. It was novel, decades old that she'd found in a chest of her mother's belongings. She let it drop into her lap, fingering the old fashioned holo she'd found used as a bookmark. Out of date clothing marked it a thirty years ago, at the least. Five women sat in front of a fountain, talking and laughing. If things had been different, she wondered, would these have been the people my brother and I grew up around? Were these the people my parents trusted? She pushed the picture into the pocket of her high collared, mist gray gown and turned to gaze out the window at the jewel like city, each little light a life like and unlike her own. If the Jedi had not been traitors to the Force, if things truly had been different, would there have been an Empire?
Thrawn coughed. Leia snapped her head around and drifted down to the cushion. In one economical move, she swung out her legs and was on her feet without even a mussing of her delicate gown. "Pardon me my lady, did I disturb you?" he asked. Her eyes blazed. "That was needlessly rhetorical. It is apparent that was the case, Grand Admiral." She was irritated that she hadn't sensed him, what if it had been a Jedi coming out of the woodwork to murder her? Thrawn cocked an eyebrow. The girl knew him. Unexpected. "Have we met?" "We have." She said, putting a slip of paper into the unmarked book she was reading. Her features were shaped into a merciless, almost frozen composure. She smiled slightly, offering a small hand. "Forgive my rudeness, grand Admiral. I am Leia Vader." She curtsied ever so slightly, so slightly it could have been deemed rude, and he took her hand. He couldn't help admiring her sharp tongue. She didn't seem a diplomat; they indulged in endless courtesies and bureaucratic nonsense. That in itself didn't bother him, it was their damn uselessness, their overall unintelligence, fit to be no more than instruments for his manipulation. Thrawn saw his intelligence as something better used elsewhere, in more productive matters. Still, the maneuvers of politics could be so entertaining. There was a strained silence as she watched appraising him. "Have you seen the newest additions to the art gallery? They're quite impressive." She asked mildly and abruptly. He smirked. So, she was familiar with his peculiarities.
"I have not. I would truly enjoy that. Tell me, my lady, have you had a chance to view them?" He asked, offering his arm. She paused, as if debating whether to reveal information.
"Actually, I helped to select them myself."
"Did you? Do you have an interest in the subject?" As he spoke, a petite woman with hair like crushed rose petals bolted down the hallway.
"There you are. I wanted to ask if you'd been invited to tomorrow's event." Leia nodded. These were their private terms to ask if they were requested to carry out the Emperor's will.
"I'm planning on attending." as if she had any choice. Leia thought wryly. Mara smilled thinly, like a predator.
"Excellent." Leia laughed.
"You always do love your work. I've heard it will be impressive." She said meaningfully.
"You worry to much."
"You, dear friend, don't worry enough. I'll see you somewhere. There are only so many places to hide on this planet." Mara nodded.
"I know all too well." And she slipped into a passageway as if she had never been there at all.
"So," muttered Thrawn. "That was the Emperor's hand."
"I wasn't aware you had access to that information." Leia said smoothly but with a bitter edge, as if she didn't think he should.
"I know a great many things, my lady." Her cold gaze swept over him.
"We shall see, Grand Admiral."