Luke scrambled into his outfit. He and Sabé had chosen it carefully for its ability to blend in as well as stand out when he needed it to—blue was a colour that faded easily into the background, even if some of the silver threads shone brilliantly; his large sleeves were ubiquitous on Naboo, even if they also gave him breadth and presence—but after his conversation with Ryoo, he wondered if it was enough. If people were looking at him and reading meaning into whatever he wore that he didn't intend. He wondered what messages and angles he had missed from Amidala, in the weeks he'd been interacting with her.

But the fine, royal blue and silver ensemble suited him nicely, overall. He wasn't tall, and it gave him a gravitas he wouldn't otherwise have. Some large earrings and enough makeup applied to give his face some colour meant he had the confidence to go out ahead, fully under the senator's mask.

He was just finishing brushing colour onto his lips when there was a knock at the door. Sabé went to answer it and stepped back to allow one of Dalrana's handmaidens in, dressed in a silver robe and hood.

"Senator Naberrie," she said. "There has been a change of plans. Empress Amidala has demanded she be allowed to speak at the ceremony."

Luke pursed her lips. "I suppose we can't refuse her."

"No. Her Highness wants you to introduce the Empress, as you know her better."

And to bridge the gap between Naboo and the wider galaxy, no doubt. Luke represented the go-between. If Amidala just waltzed in, there would be no boundaries.

"I can do that. The ceremony's in half an hour?"

"Yes."

"I'll write my introduction and make sure it's been approved by all parties before then. We'll see you there in fifteen minutes."

"Thank you, Senator." She bowed her head, and Luke inclined his in response. When she left, he sagged against the wall.

"Kriff."

"She was always going to do this," Sabé said, though she sounded furious. Like she was aghast at herself for not stopping it. She sagged against the brightly painted wall, just behind Luke's armchair. "She was always going to barge in through seemingly respectable means to wrest control away. That's what she does. She makes her every move seem reasonable—and she'll make sure her speech makes the Empire seem reasonable as well." She swallowed. "A fifteen-minute turn around for a speech, Luke? I know you're good at improvising, but—"

He watched her in the mirror. "She was always going to do this," he agreed. "Which is why I wrote an introduction speech already."

She stared at him then heaved out a breath. "Oh, thank Shiraya. Can I look over it?"

Luke reached for his datapad and handed it to her. "I already memorised it, don't worry."

She scanned it. "This is absolutely toothless and still disdainful. It's perfect."

"I have some subtlety."

"You poured all of it into this. There isn't an honest word on this screen."

Luke swallowed. "That's true. Maybe I should—"

"No!" She held the datapad out of reach when he put out a hand for it. "Do not change it. This will be approved by both parties and will keep the celebrations going without a hitch."

"That's all we want," he murmured. He didn't think about the Millaflowers and their plan—didn't wonder what chaos they might unleash today. Sabé hadn't asked, and he wouldn't tell her for her own peace of mind.

"Exactly."

He wanted more than uneasy peace. But now wasn't the time to push.

After the last finishing touches to his makeup, he rose from his seat. Brushed blush off of the prosthetic skin of his left hand and tapped the machinery of his wrist. Then he held out his hand; Sabé gave him his datapad back.

"I'll go and clear it with Amidala's household," he said.

Pooja met it with enthusiasm. It was a good, calm speech—a forgettable one that didn't undermine whatever powers might come before or after it. He was sandwiched between the two queens and was meant to be forgotten in their shadow. He was the facilitator, not the figurehead.

That was fine with him. What wasn't fine with him was lying.

"This is such a good opportunity!" Pooja said, leading him out of the antechamber to the Empress's quarters arm in arm. "I'm looking forward to a closer relationship with Naboo from now on."

"A closer relationship?"

"Of course. If Her Majesty is speaking at the Festival of Light, getting more involved with Naboo traditions and associating with Naboo politicians like you and the queen, we'll get a closer cooperation. Maybe a larger presence on planet."

"There are plenty of people who don't want that, Pooja."

She stiffened, letting go of his arm. "Including you?"

"I've always made that clear."

"You haven't in that speech. I thought you were coming around—talking about peace and fraternity."

He sighed, glancing around the corridor. He really did hate this wing of the palace, with the waterfalls almost too loud to think. There was a reason that waterfalls were associated with passionate frenzies and nonsensical decisions in Naboo literature.

"I want peace," he said. "The Empire has been known to break that."

"It won't on Naboo."

"No. Its presence will just conveniently trigger war. By now, with the presence of all of you here, it's tense enough. I don't want to fan that flame."

"You do," Pooja said. "You hate dishonesty."

"This is bigger than corruption or petty coverups. This planet could be torn in two."

"It's already torn, I thought," she replied coolly. "That's the impression I've always seen in politics, since the moment the Empress came to power. You and Dalrana can't sit on the fence forever. What side are you going to choose?"

He gave a joyless smile, even though the words hurt him to say. "I already made my choice, Pooja. You know that. I'm just careful about it."

Her face turned stricken. What had she thought? That Luke's careful words meant he was compromising with them? That he was coming around?

That was the danger, he supposed. Too often, compromise did mean that.

"I'll see you at the speeches," he said, and took his datapad back.

"I look forward to it," she replied. It was only a little bitter.

The speeches were usually given on Palace Plaza, where hundreds of fairgoers could turn immediately to listen. This time, because of Dalrana's selfless attempts at providing security for the Empress, they had returned to using a platform they hadn't used since Palpatine had attended as Chancellor, under risk of assassination. It was a rotunda near the front of the Palace, so it still overlooked much of Theed, but it was high up, with steps running up to it from various levels of the palace and from the pavement below, each patrolled by red guards and security officers. Balconies overlooked it, also monitored; when Luke filed in with the other dignitaries, he could see various people already standing in their balconies to watch and try to hear.

It would be broadcast live, to make up for the disappointment of the closed audience. Screens and holoprojectors were in every square in Theed—as were the volunteers trained to deescalate tense situations. Luke eyed the holocams flying around; they were like the ones in the Senate, which never let a flicker of emotion go uncommented on by political journals.

Luke sat in the front row while people settled in on the higher rows around him; the rotunda was shaped like an amphitheatre, so he was the lowest, but had the best view. He'd need to be up there in a few minutes anyway. All the speakers and contributors to the event were arranged in the nearest circle around the lectern which held the microphone, ready to step in.

They all stood as Amidala and her retinue came through. Luke eyed her dress, Ryoo's voice echoing at the back of his mind, but she was wearing a large pink cape over the majority of it, so he couldn't make out what it was, yet. Pooja and the other handmaidens followed in their violet getup, though their hoods were down, brown hair exposed to the morning sun.

When Dalrana came through with her handmaidens, the gathered dignitaries clapped. Even the Gungans, who by all accounts were split on loyalties to the Empire and distaste for it, clapped as well. He cast a sideways glance at Amidala, but her face was serene. She wasn't, he realised, even wearing much makeup. Hardly any compared to Dalrana or himself. Was that meant to be a comment on masks, or…?

He shook his head. He couldn't get too deep into that sort of analysis. Instead, he noted Pooja's distaste—and then she met his gaze, and she noted him noting it. The thought made him sigh.

He'd find a way to get through to his sister. It was only a matter of time.

The quiet murmur of voices and hands stilled as Dalrana stepped up to the podium. Even the distant cheering from the crowds below fading as she cleared her throat, and began to speak.

"Citizens of Naboo," she began. "Honoured guests. Eight-hundred and seventy years ago, Naboo joined the Republic. Then already a strong, intergalactic democracy, they reached out to provide us with the support needed to recover from our own tyrannical monarchy and foster the longstanding democracy we enjoy today."

Luke smiled to himself, even as he wondered where this was going. He twisted his head to look for Sabé in the stands behind him—there she was, besides a handful of Boss Nissil's officials. Her face was pinched in thought.

"But the Republic is dead. It was a slow death that it suffered: mired by corruption, self-interest, and individual lust for power. All that we have left of it are the lessons it gave to us on Naboo, and what we can take forward from them. We are part of what remains of a great system, and we shall cherish its legacy for as long as our own democracy endures.

"And yet, this glorious Republic was not perfect," she continued. "It provided connections and friendships across vast expanses of space. Whether a mile, a parsec, or half a galaxy away, we could meet each other. We could foster relationships. And in these relationships, form a symbiotic circle. The harmony Naboo holds, between the humans and the Gungans, is evidence of the wondrous things this produced." She nodded to Boss Nissil. "But this does not mean this connectivity was inherently a good thing.

"Many of you were alive during the Invasion of Naboo. Empress Amidala here, standing beside me, fought against it with her sweat and tears. Many of those who weren't so lucky to escape to Coruscant fought against it with their blood and even their lives."

Luke gritted his teeth. Actual rage passed over some of the handmaidens' faces at the slight, but Amidala kept hers impassive.

"The Trade Federation's power came from how it fostered that connection. It would streamline trade between planets by establishing their own regulations that we all had to adhere to and showed no mercy when this was impossible. Through this, it would facilitate the movement of luxury and then necessary items and produce a tidy profit for itself. But that focus on profits and greed can lead to unimaginable suffering. Because what happens when our politicians and business partners are more interested in the credits on other worlds than the people who live on their own? What happens when, in order to take part in a united galaxy under one banner, we must deny our own individuality and unique interests to participate in a larger galactic government? We risk forgetting who chose us to serve them, and who we should be serving.

"This has always stood at the heart of my relationship with the Empire. The Republic's more authoritarian successor, it risks this daily. It has been excellent for many worlds. But it has not benefitted others. This is the rise and fall of galactic politics. Through keeping Naboo separate from the Imperial machine, we aim to cooperate with them, while still serving our people's interests on a personal, nuanced level. This is not disrespect; we love the larger Empire for keeping us safe from disorder, war, and chaos. This is recognising that we have the ability to serve our own needs differently."

She lifted her chin. "The galaxy is a large place. But we have our home. We have the democracy and political system we have adopted then developed over the centuries to serve us. Whether they work on a galactic scale, as Empress Amidala denies," she met her gaze belligerently, "is irrelevant to us. They work here. And we have the lessons we learnt from a Republic which ultimately fell into apathy: trust in democracy. Remain invested in democracy." She let the words ring out before she finished the sentiment: "Or you will lose it."

Dalrana's term was almost finished, Luke thought. Elections for a new queen would be starting soon, and the campaign was about to start, even if the election wouldn't be for a few more weeks.

This felt like a last plea.

"As such, I am honoured to be hosting my fourth and final Festival of Light as your queen," she said. "I hope I have served you well. And I hand you over to Senator Luke Naberrie, who will, unless my successor decides differently, serve you for many years to come."

She bowed her head, and applause erupted. Shouts in her support—as well as cries, hateful words, but those were different. Luke clapped and shouted in support as loudly as anyone else.

By the time he took the podium himself, he was a little hoarse.

He coughed. "Sorry," he started off. "I got a bit carried away with the applause, there."

Laughter rippled through the crowd. Sabé rolled her eyes. He smiled.

"It has been my unexpected honour these past few weeks to serve as your new senator. It has been a challenge, but one I have relished undertaking in your favour."

He glanced down at the podium. The words were imprinted on his mind, but as they landed on his tongue they tasted hollow.

He made a terrible decision.

"The Empire's predecessor, the Republic, turned Naboo into what it is today," he said. "Political cycles come and go, and the tides of galactic politics are always changing. But that does not mean that—just as Naboo has learned much from its Republic past—the Empire should ignore its own history."

Amidala was watching him like a hawk. She'd seen a draft of his speech. She knew this was not what he was meant to say. He took a deep breath and confirmed her fears.

"Naboo's battle to cling to democracy is ongoing. In the last fifty years, three of our most prominent politicians have turned away from its principles, no doubt because they thought it was right. But these struggles only show how vital it is that we continue to try. Not only is it a part of our heritage, you all have shown, in every ballot box at every election, that you want it to be a part of our future. Queen Dalrana emphasises that we must focus on you: on providing the best quality of life for you, our citizens. Again and again, through exercising your political freedom to choose, you have told us how. And those that you elect must work ever harder to make your lives better, because we all deserve better. Every day, we can do better.

"Participating freely in democratic systems is how we do this. We have stood by and watched without a fight as those politics drain away from the rest of the galaxy—from our own politicians." Pooja looked as if he'd smacked her. He didn't really regret it.

"That is what I am fighting for in the Senate," he said. "Because our past is full of blood. Naboo's, the Empire's, the galaxy's. Even if things are far better than they were in the chaos of the Clone Wars, we have much further to go.

"I have addressed my concerns about war crimes committed during the Outer Rim Project, especially on planets like Tatooine, and a thousand other offences. This cannot be what the Empire stands for, and we will improve it. Because the Empire has delivered the relative peace and stability it promised, but there is work still to be done.

"So from the figures who have served us for so long, I am afraid we must ask a little more." He lifted his gaze to Amidala. "Freedom. Accountability. The right to participate in politics. And I introduce you to Empress Amidala of the Galactic Empire, whom I implore to listen—not only to me, but to the cacophonous voices of the people she serves. Without that dialogue, we can never have peace. Not in our minds, not in our hearts," he touched his cheek, "and certainly not on the battlefields still choked with blood."

Sabé was staring at him. Her cheeks were wet.

Luke stepped back and gestured politely at Amidala to take the stage. He braced himself for a lot of potential expressions he would get from her and her entourage, but amusement wasn't one he appreciated. She stepped up while he settled back into his seat.

"My thanks to Senator Naberrie," she said. "What a glowing introduction!" Luke hated her enthusiasm. "And I assure him that his tireless work in the Senate has not gone unnoticed."

He grimaced, even if he took part in the brief applause that heralded her speech. As it died down, she reached up to her neck and untied her pink cape, drawing it from around her shoulders and handing it to her handmaiden at her left.

Luke stared.

He almost didn't need Ryoo's observations about her outfits to know what this meant. Her dress bore a stiff corset, a low, round neckline, and white sheets of fabric embroidered with the symbol of Naboo. The five-bun arrangement of her hair, like the petals of a lotus flower, betrayed what she was appealing to.

It was an imitation of the dress she'd worn at the parade which celebrated the defeat of the Trade Federation. The image of her as queen most branded into Naboo's consciousness. With… some key changes.

From the hem upwards, from the tips of her white gloves, the ensemble faded into white from a deep, rich red. Instead of the gauze scarf she'd worn before, she wore a crimson bridal veil that flowed over her back, attached to the dark iron of her crown.

She looked like a queen who'd waded through blood.

He wasn't the only one staring. Murmuring broke out, abruptly hushed by Dalrana's handmaidens. Amidala seemed to enjoy it; she waited for the silence to return before she began.

"There is very little I can add to both of those wonderful speeches, and I don't wish to waste your time," she said. "Senator Naberrie's dedication to serving Naboo and the people of the galaxy, Queen Dalrana's aim to protect Naboo above all costs… together, they embody everything I have strived to do over my last thirty years in your service."

The gathered dignitaries were far too, well, dignified to hiss, but Luke thought he could hear it from the crowds below. It faded after a few seconds, and Luke wondered how much the de-escalators had already had their work cut out for them.

"So much blood has been spilled in this time," Amidala continued, clenching her fists. It was a smart move, bringing attention to her hands and her crimson gloves. "Between the Trade Federation's invasion, the Clone Wars, the battles fought against the tyranny of the Rebellion… So many of our lives have been lost. We have all made sacrifices to protect our ideals of a safe, secure society. All of you who make those sacrifices every day—volunteer security officers, lawmakers, politicians who battle the Rebel scourge—we salute you.

"For every step of this journey, Naboo has been in my heart. Even when I was forced to focus on the bigger picture, I put my homeworld above all else. During my role as senator, I fought to keep us safe, to ensure we were as well-connected and prosperous as we could be, and to enhance the joy and comfort of all our citizens. While it disheartens me that, as Queen Dalrana says, circumstances have apparently made it necessary to abandon that joy and wealth in order to prioritise Naboo's safety, even under the security of the Empire… I respect it."

Luke blinked. Amidala turned with a sly smile to Dalrana and inclined her head. Beside the queen, her dress was clearly much slimmer and less ornate that the original celebration dress had been, but it seemed she no longer needed her dress to project a presence.

The queen inclined her head in response.

"Naboo has always known what she wants. I am so fiercely proud of what we have done in the past several decades; I would not undermine Naboo's individuality. Our shared love for our homeworld is too much for that. My Empire is long reaching, but it focuses on the planets that need our help. Tatooine, as Senator Naberrie mentioned, is one of those war-torn lands we intend to protect. Naboo does not need our help, and so we will not interfere more than needed. You have enjoyed your independence for that very reason.

"But rest assured." She smiled brightly. "If Naboo ever does need assistance, it will have it. Every resource from every star would be at your disposal to restore peace and justice to this planet." She clasped her hands together. "You need only ask."

The clapping roared up before Luke had realised she was finished, and he jerked his hands into catching up. His gaze veered around the rotunda—Pooja had gone from glaring at him to grinning at Amidala, whooping with the others. Amidala was graciously accepting her applause. Dalrana was staring, stone-faced.

Luke sought Sabé's gaze and found thunder. Unease rumbled in his chest.

He could hear it in the shouting, whooping, screaming, swearing far below them. He could sense it in the gathered dignitaries around them. Naboo was teetering on fault lines, and nothing but sea monsters and hot plasma roiled below them.

Which way would the world fall?

"You improvised," Sabé accused the moment they got back to his quarters.

Luke ignored her and just marched towards his bedroom. He was already exhausted from the short reception they had after the speeches. "I don't like lying."

"The Empire doesn't like opposition, either!"

"Opposing them isn't betraying who I am."

"No, it's just a fast way to get yourself killed."

"I'm going to do it anyway, Sabé!"

She took a breath and joined him in the bedroom. Perched on the bed. "I know," she said. "It was a wonderful speech."

"Amidala took it in stride. If she's not out for my blood, I'm fine."

"I think you're underestimating the vigilante tendencies of her supporters."

Luke was halfway through rummaging through the wardrobe, but he stopped at that. "Vigilante tendencies?" He looked up at her. "Has something happened?"

"The de-escalators weren't enough. Dalrana's and Amidala's speeches were each confrontational enough that they stirred up strong opinions in the listeners."

"And mine," he said, turning away from the wardrobe. He collapsed onto the bed bedside her, gripping his knees. "I was pretty confrontational too."

"Yours was a call to action, not an attack."

"You think most idle listeners can tell the difference?"

Sabé snorted and ruffled his hair. "I taught you that."

"And I listened. It's my fault as well as theirs."

"I think, if riots are happening, it's the fault of the rioters who are attacking and killing opponents."

Luke blanched. "Killing?"

"Yes." Sabé looked away. "Two de-escalators have turned up dead. One young man, as well—he seems to have been an Amidalan."

Luke thought about the colour and joy from just that morning. The Festival of Light, marred with blood, the deaths of volunteers and passionate citizens staining its history.

"These things have happened in the past, Luke," she said. "Democracy is a touchy subject. Ten years ago, an Imperial representative was assassinated."

"These are riots. People are dying."

"They are." She pinched her lips. "And it's not your fault. Voicing your honest opinions in the past has never caused such unrest before."

"Really? I thought that was why Dalrana wanted me off Naboo."

"She wanted you off Naboo because you were always asking uncomfortable questions—of her and her government, as much as your opponents. But the people of Naboo know what you are and where you stand, and the only danger that has caused before now has been to you—from the Empire and from opponents." She bent down to lift his chin gently. "Nothing that happened today is because of you."

"Then what changed?"

"What else? Amidala came back. And her words are her weapons. Don't take the blame for stirring up unrest when she did it intentionally—and did it perfectly at that."

Luke nodded. "If she incites unrest on Naboo, she can justify taking control of it."

Sabé stared at him. "I hadn't thought of that."

"You hadn't thought of that?"

"No! I—" She cursed. "I was focused on the violence. Didn't think why she'd want it."

"You really think the worst of her," he realised.

"There's not much more to think of her than the worst."

"You think she'd incite riots and cause deaths for no reason?"

"To prove a point? Maybe. I—" She buried her face in her hands. "I don't know what to expect from her anymore. Better to assume she's a bottomless pit of evil. Then I won't be disappointed."

"You would be anyway."

"Shut it, you." She lifted her head. "But if she uses what she said in her speech to justify exerting a tighter grip—"

"Or invading," Luke said quietly.

"She wouldn't invade."

"She did on Tatooine."

"Vader did on Tatooine. She…" Sabé realised what she was saying and strangled her words until they trickled away. "It would ruin her credibility. She cares about Naboo."

"So she's not a bottomless pit of evil?" Luke asked.

Sabé shook her head. He realised too late that her eyes were wet. "I don't know," she whispered. "I don't know her anymore. I don't know what to expect, how far she'll fall, or what she wants at all."

Luke swallowed. "I'm sorry for pushing," he said gently.

She shook her head, then nodded. Luke didn't know what that meant, but he let it be.

"I'm going to go and change into my outfit for this evening," he said softly. They had already lost a surprising amount of the day from the speeches, and the mingling they'd had to do afterwards. For once, Luke was glad that Pooja was furious at him; he hadn't wanted to deal with Amidala's entourage at all, especially his sister. "If you hear anything else about the riots, let me know."

"They've calmed down now," she confirmed. Her voice was still quiet. "Some stormtroopers pushed in and stopped them. But the fair has been trampled, and a jewellery shop with millaflower imagery was set on fire."

A stone dropped into Luke's gut. That kind stall attendant—the designs—the earrings she'd sold—

The earrings she'd sold to Ryoo.

He contacted her immediately. No holocall—though he was worried enough that if he didn't get a prompt response he would, blast drawing attention to her—but a terrified message. Thankfully, it was returned within the minute.

All the family safe. Back at home before the riots started. Are you alright?

He shot back, Fine, and let himself breathe.

"Ryoo and the others are fine," he said. "I'll… I'll go and change. It's approaching late afternoon. We haven't eaten lunch, either, do you want me to order you something from the kitchens?"

"No." She caught his hand. "Thank you."

He squeezed it, then let go.

Just in case she changed her mind, he ordered something for her anyway—she never said no to toasted five-blossom bread with heapings of butter—and ordered some simple sandwiches for himself. He ate them idly but quickly, before he pulled out his outfit for the evening and laid it out on the armchair. Crisp dark trousers and a dark yellow frockcoat—block colour, despite Ryoo's protestations. He wondered again what people might read into it, then decided he didn't care.

He did turn up the sleeves so the red flowers at the cuffs weren't visible, though. They looked too much like drops of blood. He couldn't do anything about the embroidery around and between the buttons, or the hem and collar, but at least they weren't on his hands.

His desk mirror was crooked when he sat in front of it. It wasn't until he'd wiped makeup off of half of his face that he noticed and adjusted it correctly to show his cheek. The scar looked as incongruous as ever; he grimaced at it. It twinged with the motion.

A moment before the door opened, he had a hunch it would. He reangled the mirror again, just as it hissed to the side and Vader stepped in.

Luke tried not to scowl. "Lord Vader?" he asked stiffly. "Shouldn't you be assisting in pacifying the riots out there?"

"I was. Do you not remember I was forced to leave the reception early?"

"I do. I assumed you couldn't stand being around that many politicians for so long."

"That was a motivating factor," Vader admitted.

Luke glared at him in the mirror. "Were you the one who killed those who died, then?"

"No. Rioters are usually perfectly capable of killing each other." Vader paused. "You seem convinced of my bloodlust."

"Does that surprise you?"

"I wasn't aware you hated me so much. Though our conversation in the gardens yesterday should have been telling."

"Yes. It should have been." Luke picked up his makeup remover again and began wiping it off his right cheek. "In the very first Senate session I attended, I accused you of war crimes."

"I presumed you had an overactive sense for justice."

"Overactive?" Luke took a deep breath. "Do you have an inkling of how much suffering you've caused? Why wouldn't I hate you?"

Vader tilted his head, staring hard at Luke's back. Luke resolutely ignored his gaze in the mirror. "You are speaking of Tatooine."

"And the wider Outer Rim Sieges. And various other brutal campaigns."

"I was not aware that planet had any importance to anyone."

That did it. Luke had to give a low, harsh laugh at that. "Of course," he said, half-snarling as he shook his head. "Of course you weren't."

Vader lifted his hand. "We have established that I know you were originally from there."

"And you thought I wouldn't care about it after I left?" Every word was cutting. He didn't know where this was coming from, and he didn't care. People had died today. Sabé had cried. He was still shaking.

"Yes. Did you move to Naboo early?"

Luke clenched his fist around the wipes. "I was part of the Rim Relief Movement ten years ago. You know, the one set up to help families flee the destruction you caused."

"You travelled alone?"

"Clearly."

"Your family did not accompany you?"

"They had a farm to look after. They wanted what was best for me, so they sent me away, but they weren't going to abandon their farm until the final hour. And now they're gone because of you."

"Because of me?" Vader stepped towards Luke, but Luke's glare—surprisingly—halted him in his tracks. "They have been dead for ten years?"

"No. They were hardy. They were careful. And they were lucky." Luke shook his head. "They survived for ten years. You left. They started to rebuild. They were so excited—you'd left a desert of glass in your wake, there was little water left to live off, but they were alive. It could all be rebuilt.

"And then you came back," he said bitterly. "What was it, six months ago that you renewed your sieges and battles against them? It wasn't even against the Hutts this time. It was against the residents trying to build a peaceful life."

"They were organising against the Empire."

"They were organising to survive, after you killed so many of them! I watched them grow more and more terrified with every message!" He was shouting. He hoped Sabé didn't come running. He hoped she'd left to clear her head through the back door and wouldn't have to deal with him. "And now they've disappeared." He gritted his teeth. "If they're dead, you killed them."

Vader took another step forwards. This time, no glare of Luke's would stop him.

"Tell me their names," he said.

"Get out of my quarters."

"Tell me their names. I can find them for you." He sounded so ridiculously eager—like this was everything he needed to know. "What names do they use? What name did you use?"

Owen Lars. Beru Whitesun Lars.

Luke Skywalker.

"Kriff off," he said. "I don't want anything from you. You've brought enough war to them—I won't send them another monster."

Skywalker.

If Vader wanted to know…

If Vader suspected his father was a Jedi, as Obi-Wan had mentioned…

"As you wish," Vader said, retreating a step. "I hope they are enjoying the absence of the Hutts."

"It's hard to enjoy anything when you're half-dead." He shook his head. "Is that really your justification for it? That that was worth it, for the Hutts?"

"I swore that one day I would return to Tatooine to end slavery. I did so."

"How many slaves died in the same fires as their masters?"

"They are free."

Luke was going to be sick.

"You really have no concept of the value of life, do you?" he asked. "Tatooine was full of sentients. Not all good ones, not all nice ones. But there were a lot of good people. And a lot of good people who care about that planet, no matter what you seem to think."

Vader said stiffly, "Would that I had met them."

"Would that you had done anything except what you did," Luke said. "But perhaps violence is all you know."

"I will find your family if you wish it, Luke. Do not lecture me about the morality of my crusade."

"I won't then," he retorted. "I'll lecture you about the lack thereof."

Vader pointed a finger at him. "The suffering that the Hutts purported—which the Rebels risked bringing back by assembling against the Imperial outpost there—is clearly beyond any comprehension you achieved on your farm."

Luke slammed his fist on his makeup table. "And the scale of suffering you enacted seems impossible for you to grasp as well!"

"I assure you it was lesser than what came before!"

Luke took several ragged breaths, his lips curling, nostrils flaring. Then he stood up, shoving his chair back with enough force to topple it, and stalked towards Vader.

Vader turned to meet him head on—then froze.

His gaze was fixed on Luke's left cheek.

"Lesser?" Luke hissed. "I saw children die of burn wounds. I saw families die of dehydration because you burnt all moisture from the atmosphere. I saw explosions and blood and death every day for months after you came for us. My best friend's farm was destroyed by a stray firebomb from one of your squads. His parents were killed instantly. He was lucky to escape in one piece. I was lucky to escape in a few pieces."

He lifted his left hand and shook it in just the right way. The panel in his wrist popped open, exposing wires.

"Perhaps that was lesser than the suffering that occurred under the Hutts, Lord Vader," he said. "You are correct. I was fortunate to never experience that first hand. But that does not mean the suffering was not immense."

Vader stared at his wrist. His hand was opening and closing like a flower.

"Even if you could find my family," Luke finished, "can you find my best friend's parents? Can you find my incinerated hand, somewhere out in the Dune Sea? Can you find all the lost, dead souls and bring them home?"

Vader didn't respond for the longest time. At last, he said, "You were injured."

"I nearly died. Were it not for kind neighbours and the Rim Relief Project, I would have."

Vader took another step back. Luke didn't care. He turned away.

"Yes, I hate you. I'll work with you. I'll work with your wife. But I hate you." He sat down at his table again. "Get out. I need to get ready for the evening event."

After a tense moment of silence, Vader did retreat. At the door, he paused on the threshold one last time. "I didn't know," he offered. It was likely meant to be tentative, but the vocoder boomed it like an accusation.

Luke met that accusation in kind. "I think you did." He reached for his concealer and dabbed it over his cheek. Within seconds of work, his scar was gone again. "You just didn't care."