Recovering from Bespin, a feverish Luke Skywalker lets slip his parentage, but what will the Alliance do with the son of Darth Vader? Their mistake proves monumental and delivers Luke into the hands of his worst nightmare. Destiny goes into an about turn where there's only one person who can save Luke from the darkside - his father. Recovering from Bespin, a feverish Luke Skywalker lets slip his parentage, but what will the Alliance do with the son of Darth Vader? Their mistake proves monumental and delivers Luke into the hands of his worst nightmare. Destiny goes into an about turn where there's only one person who can save Luke from the darkside - his father.

C h a p t e r T e n

Calrissian's eyes flicked over to him again before he turned eyes-front and continued the short trudge through the desert storms. Still in his arms, Leia was ominously quiet. In Chewbacca's arms, Solo was equally unconscious, although his was forced by sedative after they defrosted him. Leia, his daughter and Solo, her lover. The Princess and the smuggler; not so unlike the Queen and the slave, so long ago now. How had he missed it?

He pushed those thoughts away as the Corellian freighter became visible through the gritty winds of his childhood, as Chewbacca climbed the ramp and immediately took his partner to the med bunk, grumbling all the while about the sand in his hair. It was probably the same bunk his son had laid upon after Bespin… probably this was the same uneasy quiet that had descended on the small group. And as much as he would shove those difficult thoughts away, he couldn't escape them here, amongst his children's friends and his own enemies.

Leia didn't stir when he laid her on a separate bunk; she had gone deathly quiet after her brief delusional mumbling in Jabba's now scorched throne room. Even the loud crack of the thermal detonator exploding and destroying all evidence of Vader's participation in the bungled rescue hadn't woken her. It was probably just the concussion. Probably.

"Get us into orbit."

Calrissian barely blanched at the order, but his eyes remained stern and hard with unease. "Chewie? Could use a copilot." The man's voice lacked its usual cheep-silk charm, and was caustic from too much blaster backwash in the firefight. Vader could easily have piloted, or copiloted, but there was no way Calrissian would let him anywhere near the controls.

The wookiee finished arranging his partner on the pallet and growled with deep concern. The choice was a difficult one – let Vader copilot and Han's worst enemy touch his precious ship, or leave Han and Leia with the Dark Lord? He grumbled but trudged after Calrissian for the cockpit, shoving a hypo into Vader's hands, a serum to counteract the sedative.

Vader stood staring at the unconscious Captain for long minutes that stretched into the whine of repulsorlifts starting. The Falcon lifted deceptively smoothly as he relented and injected the hypo. This would not be easy.

Solo stirred restlessly before his eyes shot open and fixed on Vader. He was awake in an adrenaline-rushed heartbeat, and Vader almost regretted including the drug that would cure his hibernation blindness. Still, the sound of his respirator would have given him away, as would his voice. Solo lurched to his feet and immediately collapsed to the deck with a howl when his frozen muscles refused to remember how to work. He shivered but Vader didn't offer a hand in help – he didn't think it would be appreciated. Solo retreated away until his back collided with the foot of the bunk.

"You!" He pointed a finger at Vader, using it like a weapon to keep his nemesis away. "What are you doing here…?" He looked around suddenly and his eyes grew wide. "What are you doing on my ship?" He growled. "And what am I doing here?"

The accusing finger began to shake with fatigue and Solo clutched it back, the bolts from his eyes enough to keep the Sith at bay.

"Captain Solo, I-"

"Don't 'Captain Solo' me! What are we doing here?" He seemed to notice the deckplates vibrating with the heavy humm of the engines. "And who's flying my ship?"

So many questions… so arrogant. How did his daughter put up with this man? He was hardly suitable for the daughter of Darth Vader. He -

Vader cut off that thought abruptly, one of those over-protective father thoughts that had plagued him since discovering the existence of more Skywalkers that threatened to tear his cool, aloof Dark Lord image into little irretrievable pieces.

"Calrissian and your wookiee are flying. We are leaving Tatooine. The Princess and-"

"Princess??" His eyes flicked around the small bay and he leapt to his feet when he spotted Leia, out cold with a bruise deepening on her temple. "What did you do!?" He tried to run to her but fell, landing close enough to touch her arm tentatively and then remove it as if burned.

"Nothing, she hit her head when –"

Solo turned a stony stare on him, his concern admirable even if he was hardly suitable for her. "Don't give me that you-" Would he never let Vader finish explaining? It was his turn to be interrupted.

"Captain Solo, I have not touched Princess Leia, and you are not in my custody. I just participated in your rescue." He made the words rumble in deep bass tones around the small room and Solo stilled, frown puckering his forehead.

"What?"

"I participated in your rescue. You were held by Jabba in his Tatooine stronghold which is now… no more," he replied. He finally offered Solo a hand to help him stand and the smuggler scowled at it like it held a lit lightsaber. His muscles bunched as he levered himself up with the bunk side.

"Why would you do that?" The brown eyes declared an astute intelligence that warned off from lying. But Vader never had any intention of that.

"It is… complicated," he replied slowly, cautiously, words cat-footing across the hold. Solo seated himself on Leia's bunk and tentatively brushed a swirl of hair from her cheek. His eyes seemed sad to see the sharply cut hair and Vader had to resist the urge to stop the smuggler from touching his daughter.

"Looks like we've got plenty of time, Vader. Why don't you start at the beginning?"

Vader suppressed a deep sigh at the vehemence there, but it was completely understandable. For himself, he felt a little less loathing for the smuggler, a little more respect. It was… disturbing that he could so easily stop those feelings of hate and turn them into a begrudging acceptance. "Very well. We called a truce. I want Luke. The Princess wants Luke. So we are working together… at least temporarily. She would not, however, leave-"

Again, Solo interrupted with a sour stare and a grimace, "So she and Luke finally got it together while I was gone, huh? Shoulda' known she'd eventually fall for the farmboy look after… everything that went on between them."

Vader felt his stomach begin a slow dive for the deck plates at the implications. "No. Leia and Luke are not… together. Why would you say that? Have they ever…?" He couldn't even say it! Unbeknownst brother and sister… an item? Kenobi had much to answer for, but this would be beyond the pale.

"Well, sure."

That was it; his stomach hit the deck and he leapt to his feet enraged, cursing.

Solo looked at him a little quizzically and even more alarmed. "Huh?"

Vader felt dark, nauseous images begin to cloud his mind and he shoved them away roughly "What… what have they done?"

Solo was staring suspiciously now. "Just kissed a couple of times, far as I know," he said slowly, eyes growing wide when Vader slumped against the wall in relief. They hadn't… gone further. He was blessing every deity he'd ever heard of and swearing allegiance to the merciful side of the Force, not appreciative of Destiny's sick sense of humour.

"Good."

Solo stood on shaky feet and stalked forwards, eclipsing Leia. "Look, you better start making sense soon or I'll have Chewie toss you out an airlock, truce or not." He looked around warily. "Where is Chewie anyway?" His eyes narrowed even further, if that was possible.

Thankful for an alternative line of conversation, Vader replied quickly; a little too quickly. "He is piloting with Calrissian-"

"What is he-"

"Captain Solo, we may have called a temporary truce, but if you do not stop interrupting me during every explanation then I will throw you out the airlock, my daughter's mate or no."

As soon as the words were spoken he felt stupidity hammer at him.

"What?"

Oh, Sith-hell…

* * * *

"Leia, what do you remember of your mother? Your real mother?"

Leia blinked tired brown eyes and pushed at the shards of brown hair obscuring her vision. Sat beside her on the medbunk, Han held a troubled expression firmly in place of the delight she knew was plastering her face.

"Not much, really. A few images, a few feelings. I think she must have died when I was very young. Why?" She accepted the hand the helped her to sit up and pushed disgustedly at the dancers uniform. The Falcon hummed at sublight, and she wondered at the absence of Vader. Perhaps he hadn't made it out – or perhaps Chewie or Lando hadn't. She couldn't remember, dark feelings of complete loss and misery clouding her memories. She thought there might have been snow… but Tatooine hadn't known snow in millennia. There was darkness, and that seemed familiar, but also love, and that seemed foreign.

"Her name? Do you remember her name?"

She clasped his hand in her own and gave him a quizzical stare. "Why?"

"It's important Leia." The words came down hard, demanding and bitten short by his obvious agitation.

She wanted to question him more, to demand her own answers, but the air was frigid with anticipation, so she answered. "Padmé."

He inhaled sharply, voice caustic. "Sithspawn. He was right." He almost laughed at some private joke and rubbed a calloused hand over his face, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Han, what is it?" she asked, words gentle. Perhaps the carbon freeze had left some after affects; perhaps he was in shock…

He brushed a hand across her cheek tentatively and bit his lip. It wasn't a mannerism she was used to from this hardened smuggler. He was soft, gentle, tired. Han Solo… yes she loved him. She had never doubted it, but now she found her heart hammering to be free of her chest, terrified of something… of his next words, of his next expression, of his next touch. She shivered.

"Leia… there's something you should know," he whispered, stroking her cheek softly. It brought up strange, macabre feelings that felt both foreign and familiar and she didn't know whether to accept the comfort or run from it.

"What?" Her voice shivered in apprehension.

"I know about Luke. About Vader." Leia squeezed his hand tighter and he looked on it before tracing little lines of dirt on her fingers. My hands are dirty. It really didn't matter.

She felt her lips try to form an apology, sympathy, but nothing came out. This wasn't the revelation.

"But there's more and I… we thought it might be better if I told you." He wasn't looking into her eyes. Han Solo always gave it to you straight, always told it as he saw it. Not now.

"What?" She felt like it had to be the only word in her vocabulary, but it was the only one that mattered.
"There's another Skywalker, Leia. This isn't easy to tell you but-"

She felt the sob pulled from her throat before he finished as the truth, mean and heartless and irrevocable settled around her, water on a drenched ground. "Me?"

His eyes finally met hers and he nodded before pulling her into a deep embrace. "I'm sorry, Leia. I'm so sorry."

To him the words sounded small and cruel; to her they were at least an acceptance of her regardless. And she cried, him pushing the little trails of tears from her eyes with his thumbs, her unable to tell him that she cried not because she had gained a demonic father, but had gained a brother already ripped from her.

Seconds, minutes, hours later and the tears were dry at last, Han holding her like he would never let go. She held on even tighter, needing to know he never would. The rasp of Vader's respirator filled the doorway and she lifted her eyes to him, her father.

"Leia…"

Her hands tightened around Han's shirt and her fingernails dug welt in her palms. "Please… don't bother," she spat, but it was not vehement, only tired. Vader was distinctly uneasy, but what did he expect? Her to run to him and jump into his arms screaming daddy! ?

"I understand."

Do you? You're not my father by anything other than a cruel twist of fate.

He stilled his approach and she wondered if he had heard her before realising that she didn't care if he had.

Leia pushed strands of wet hair from her eyes, and stared him down. "Where are we?"

He paused before answering, not happy with the change of subject. "Holding orbit around Tatooine. I could contact the fleet and find out where the Rebel Feet is holding out, but…"

"That would look suspicious," she agreed, "Palpatine will know." Strangely detached from the situation, strangely not talking to her father but to her erstwhile ally, she rose. "They're at Sangrine."

Han looked up in shock at her, eyes wide. "Princess-"

"We need to find Luke. And I can think of only one person who might know where he might is."

He stood beside her, eyeing Vader warily. "Who?"

Vader stepped forwards boldly and Leia was surprised when she didn't move back from him in disgust. "Mothma."

She saw Han's jaw harden at that name, "Right." There was nothing but a barely concealed loathing there. "I'll set course. It's about time she got what's coming."

Leia might have argued against his obvious hatred for their former leader, but she couldn't swear that it wasn't something she didn't feel herself. As Han stalked from the room Vader approached cautiously. She looked up sharply at him, then forced her anger to cool down. They both stood there, staring, neither knowing what to say.

"I should have told you myself," he said finally.

She pushed at the short hair that Han had described as 'different, but lovely and tried to glower. She failed and just sighed, sinking back to the bunk. "No, I think it was better from Han. Look at how Luke reacted to you telling him."

She almost managed a smirk and he laughed mirthlessly. "He jumped off a gantry."

"Exactly."

There was more distinctly painful silence before she shifted to stare into that dark mask, wondering. How had this man been married to her mother? Or was he married at all; was she just a fling, a whore, a rape-

She flew to her feet at the thought and his hand shot out to hold her stop her from running, clearly hearing those random thoughts. "You think I have no honour," he hissed, incensed, "I loved her, and she was my wife. Or rather, Anakin's wife."

Anakin. Anakin Skywalker. That name was easier to call father than Darth Vader and she almost took comfort in it.

"I… No, that's not true. I just don't understand," she said, taking a shivering breath.

"It is… complicated."

She wore her stern Senatorial gaze, "Isn't it always?"

"I did not say that I wouldn't explain, just that it may take a while," he rumbled.

Realising she had been jumping on every word he said, she just nodded. This was so hard, almost too hard to stand and take, to have Bail banished by Vader. It went too far; Destiny went too far with this particular joke. But Leia was strong, had always been strong. And now, when she might never know Luke as a brother, she could at least try and know her errant father. Try.

"I understand," she murmured, and realised the she did indeed appreciate how difficult this was for them both. She had spent so long trying to understand what Luke had gone through in those hours of understanding that when it came to her turn, it was not quite as sharp as she might have expected.

Perhaps… perhaps it also had something to do with Vader's rapidly shifting attitude.

"Leia… " She looked up, "There is one thing I must ask…. Do you know how Amidala died?"

"Amidala? That was my mother's name? I never knew… I called her Padmé." The question had shocked her both by the humanity and the content. "No. They never told me," she said sadly.

"I see."

"Is that how you found out about me… about us?" She realised she had backed away from him unconsciously and, chiding herself, took a step closer.

"Yes. She was known as Amidala, and as Padmé. You called for her in the throne room," he said, also taking a step nearer to his daughter.

The room chilled and something like realisation hit her. "I called her Amidala?"

"Yes."

"But I didn't know her as Amidala," she whispered, and Vader inhaled sharply. "I remember… images. I saw her, as I remembered her, only older, and through a blizzard. And someone said that name… I think it was. It was-"

Her eyes flew open, wide with fear and Vader grabbed her arm, "Palpatine?"

"Yes."

Oh, stars. She had been in contact with Luke and neither of them had realised it at the time. But why was Luke seeing his mother, and why did Palpatine say her name…? She shook her head fiercely, brown hair swishing. None of this made sense. Her father was ominously quiet and she looked up to see him staring blankly into space.

"Princess," he said formally. "I want to try something."

She found a lump forming in her throat. "What?"

"I want to see if we can contact Luke again. Palpatine is blocking me from him, but he does not know of you, and your connection to your… twin."

Twin. Twin. She had never thought of it like that. Flesh torn from flesh, the mewling of an infant, and sad brown eyes filled with tears…. It was so familiar, a memory dear but forgotten. Luke. Her twin. Luke and Leia Skywalker. It sounded… right. Hadn't she been thinking that she was no longer Princess, nor Senator, no Rebel Leader Leia Organa? Hadn't she thought she was now just Leia? Well, she had been wrong. She was Leia, but Leia Skywalker.

She inhaled sharply. "Let's do it."