Written for Angstober Day 18: False Death and 30: Failure.
I had something else entirely planned out for this one but then I was reading Harrow the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir and got inspired. That book was one I reread at the end of September and the creative hold it has had on me all month is incredible - Day 24 for Whumptober was also heavily affected, and tomorrow's Angstober instalment was directly inspired. Other features of it can be found scattered across the whole month. I love it so much.
The other inspiration was of course prayforpiett's wonderful This victory of yours on AO3.
Warnings for creepiness (it's Palpatine), second person POV, possession, and a mention of unknown incest - it doesn't happen, but it's speculated.
Vader steps into your throne room when the red guards allow him to and kneels at your feet. The benevolent smile you fix onto your face isn't unfamiliar anymore: you thought you had finished with it once the galaxy was yours, twenty-five years ago, but you find that Vader responds to it far better than cruelty, when serving this master.
He is a dark stain on your luxurious red carpet. You notice with a slight curl of your lip that he had not bothered cleaning the mud from his boots before entering and has soiled the hall of your power with his own unkemptness, but you dismiss it. You have all the resources in the galaxy with which to clean it. But the undying loyalty of Lord Vader is something not so easy to maintain.
Historically, at least. Now, you find it almost boring how little a challenge it is.
"What is it, Lord Vader?" you ask. It is clear something is bothering him. He never managed to hide his emotions, mask or not. Not from you.
He keeps his head bowed. "The threat has been neutralised," he says. "Chandrila's population are pacified. We have many Rebels in custody, but more are dead."
"Good. Civilian casualties?"
"The Rebels refused to withdraw, and Chandrila's leaders did not see reason. We were forced to bomb the capital."
"Anything left?"
"Imperial troops were evacuated, as were any valuable resources. The quarries nearby were left untouched."
"Only the residential city was harmed?"
He senses the satisfaction in your voice and perks up. Dares to lift his head slightly to look at you, but your glare sends him cowering back down again. He knows his place, after all he has done.
"All civilians and civilian leaders were destroyed," he confirms.
"Good. With our Death Star still in construction, I rely on you to remind planets what we can do." You smirk, glancing over at the person chained to the floor to the right of your throne. The carpet does not extend that far: she sits on cold, black marble, shot through with white streaks like the light that has always threatened Vader's darkness. You gave up on eliminating that light two years ago. Now, you harness it. "It's a shame they forget Alderaan so quickly."
Princess Leia meets your gaze levelly and coolly, but her composure does not fool you. Her eyes are rimmed with red and bloodshot. You wonder how long it will take before they turn gold.
"Alderaan will never be forgotten, Your Highness." She spits out the title. You give her a gracious smile, resisting the urge to roll your eyes.
"Your work has been amazing." You turn back towards him, still kneeling penitently at your leisure. You stand from your throne and walk down the steps from the dais to lay a hand, small and tanned, on his large black shoulder. It is easy to sense how he leans into that touch, craves it like the oxygen his respirator feeds him. Just to cement the effect, you let him raise his helmet to look at you and smile at him. "Thank you, Father. I wouldn't be able to do it without you."
You can sense the watery smile he is giving you in return. His pride—for you—booms through the Force. Princess Leia scoffs.
The solution to eternal life, eternal power, and eternal control over the Force's Chosen One was so simple, in the end. Skywalker waltzed right into your trap. You could not have baited it better, with those white-marble cracks running through Vader's heart, calling him like a moth to the flame. It did not even take much goading to make him snap on the bridge of Death Star II: only a few hundred deaths beyond the viewport and the imminent demise of the rebellion, the impenetrability of his father's loyalty, and his realisation that he had nothing to lose.
He had everything to lose.
You would have ordered Vader to defend you, if Skywalker tried to strike you down. But you changed your mind just in time. You could sense his rage, how his shields were coming undone. He was so focused on his father; he cared little for you. You are not even sure he knew you were Force-sensitive until your head had parted with your shoulders, and you were blinking up at Lord Vader with new eyes, younger eyes, with his distant voice screaming at the back of your head.
He did not scream for much longer. You took care of that. You took care of him; now, he is yours. Even if that gambit cost you your second Death Star, it was undoubtedly worth it. A third will be built; in the meantime, the Rebels' morale has shattered beyond repair to see their hero become their enemy.
Vader's gaze, pathetically blue behind his eye plates, stops staring into your young face and turns to glare at Princess Leia for her impertinence, half rising. "Luke—" he says.
"Father," you say gently, putting a hand on his arm. Really, he revisits this issue every time. It grates. "It's alright." You have Skywalker's speech patterns and accent down perfectly, by now. Not that Vader spent enough time with his actual son to know the difference. If he were forced to choose, right now, his real son or his fake one, you are reasonably certain he would choose you.
You are the son he has had the last two happy years with. You are the son who makes him proud. You are not the Rebel he regretted.
"She is not a threat," you continue. "I tolerate her. Leave her be."
Princess Leia's muttered yet almost makes you laugh out loud. What an insolent girl—you understand why she and Vader's upstart son got along. But she will come around eventually.
You wouldn't have bothered having her captured were it not for rumours of the lightsaber. Princess Leia, seen at various Rebel strikes wielding a white lightsaber that she cut down loyal Imperial men with. You had been curious. And when you met her fully, with the power and sensitivity Skywalker's body affords you, you knew it was a worthy instinct to indulge. Princess Leia's Force-sensitivity, heretofore utterly unnoticed, rivals all but Vader's. Skywalker's included.
Another body? That would be a difficult fight, indeed; she would be ready for you, unlike Skywalker. But she has been here for nine months, kneeling beside you, trying to tug at heartstrings her friend no longer controls, and having long, long conversations. You are wearing her down. It is only a matter of time. And if you can turn her to the dark side, train her…
Well. The defection of Princess Leia would shatter the Rebellion almost beyond repair. But she and Skywalker always were close, according to your spies. If you turned her so thoroughly you could make her your empress? Not only would you have a powerful, loyal servant, one whose very existence undermines the Rebellion's, but any offspring of Skywalker and Princess Leia would be incalculably strong. And a child's mind could be moulded to allow you to control it from its first day in the galaxy.
It could take years. You are aware of this. But you are both young, and as a long-term plan, it seems worth the wait. If Princess Leia fails, Jade is still loyal to you. She would serve the same purpose excellently, even if her Force potential is a candle next to Princess Leia's star.
You do not think you will need that, though. Princess Leia still listens to you. She is convinced that her friend can be reached, that Vader has done something to him. Skywalker's faith in his friends was mutual, you see, and mutually foolish. You will use Princess Leia's against her, as well.
"She disrespects you," Vader growls. "Luke, I will not tolerate anyone who does not adore you."
Princess Leia adores Luke Skywalker. She will grow to adore the emperor he has become.
You affect a sad smile, like a boy whose friend has decided to shun him. "I understand," you admit in his shy, hesitant tone. "I deserve—"
"You do not." Vader glares at her. "Do not allow her to make you doubt yourself. She will not undermine you. You give her control over you she does not deserve."
"Father, do you think I'm blinded by my affection for my friends?" You let it come out biting.
"Yes, my son."
He is so blinded by his love for his son that he does not realise his son is gone. Again, you try not to laugh. You turn away instead.
"I love you, Leia," you tell her, walking back up the steps to her side. "You understand why I'm doing this?" You reach out a hand to her cheek. "I have to—"
She bites your finger. You jerk back, but the blood isn't yours, and Princess Leia is choking, anyway. Vader marches forwards, his fist squeezing tightly, and tears weep from Princess Leia's eyes as she claws at her throat.
"Stop, Father," you said. Then— "Lord Vader, I order you to stop!"
He doesn't, so you stop him. The burst of lightning that erupts from your hands does the trick. He cowers back.
You crouch in front of Princess Leia. "Are you alright?" You have always been excellent at faking concern.
She glares at you. "I know who you are," she whispers.
"Your friend."
"You are not my friend. You tried to destroy him." Her throat is hoarse, raspy, but she keeps choking out her vendetta. "But Luke. Luke. I know you're in there."
This does not bother you. Princess Leia knows just how effective Imperial brainwashing has been in the past, how they have turned loyal Rebels against them. She is simply seething with denial that it could happen to a friend who was hers.
"Leave, Father," you order, turning away from her. The ice in your tone brooks no argument. Lord Vader, hopelessly obedient to the son whose love he craves, leaves. You settle back onto your throne; only now do you let yourself smile.
All is proceeding perfectly. Vader's fanatical devotion succeeds even your wildest dreams. If Princess Leia is resorting to such ridiculous claims already, she is clearly close to breaking. The galaxy is yours. It will not be long before that grip is utterly unquestionable. It will not be long before your eternal reign is assured.
This is where you are wrong.
Princess Leia still kneels on the floor beside you, the black dress you make her wear as an inverse copy of her Alderaanian Senate gown pooling around her like ink, and she watches you more closely than you can understand. She sees you smile. She sees your manipulations. But, most importantly of all, Princess Leia can see the only thing in the galaxy that you cannot. My sister can see me.
Do you think you can crush my soul?
Do you think I am gone?
And do you really think that you would have so thoroughly fooled my father into thinking that you were me if he could not sense me here, still lurking in the corner of my own mind, wholly aware and untouched?
You are not the great actor or manipulator you think you are. Your overconfidence is your weakness. I have been here for two years. I have seen how you operate. It has been slow, painstaking work, but I am coiled in every cell, every nerve, every brain signal, and soon I will be able to take back what you have stolen. And then I will use this throne you have given me to set your empire on fire.
You have failed, Your Highness.
I am a Jedi, and I will soon be set free.
