It is a period of peace, freedom, justice and security. From
the fiery hell of Mustafar, Anakin Skywalker emerged as the
Galactic Emperor, the heir of the venerable Senator and for
just a moment, Emperor Palpatine. Capitalizing on his status
as a war hero, the only loyal Jedi that remained in the
Emperor's Service and the thirst of the Galaxy for peace and
order, he was confirmed in his position by a thankful Senate.
With the help of his Inner Circle and his Empress, the popular
and politically astute Padme Amidala Naberrie, order reigns
supreme .
At least, that's what most people believe. Various Rebel
movements appear sporadically throughout the Galaxy,
missing only a strong figure to unite and organize them.
In the Imperial Court, some of Palpatine's old supporters
never fully forsook their old master. With his promises
of power and position not fully realized under the new regime,
these power brokers lay in wait for their chance to strike.
The situation grows worse as the Emperor has retired to
his castle on Mustafar for the last two years, ostensibly
meditating on his duties, giving the occassional directive to
the Imperial Executive Council that he left as stewards of his
Realm.
To cover the void, the Emperor's Children, the twin royals
Luke and Leia Skywalker receive more visible roles within
their father's Empire in an attempt to project the Dynasty's
Strength. Trained from an early age into the mysteries of
the force and the necessary skills of a leader, they rush to
prove to an anxious Galaxy that the House of Skywalker is
a force to be reckoned with...
Mandalore, Hidden Imperial Field Outpost on the road to Sundari, 1 BBY
Grand Admiral - Prince Luke Skywalker stood in front of a portable holographic projector. The old, unassuming Gozanti Frigate, masqueraded as a trade vessels on which his small task force of Death Troopers and five LAAT gunships had managed slip through the watchful eyes of the Mandalorian Rogue Clans and their Rebel confederates, stood in geosynchronous orbit above the battlefield, feeding the necessary information to the projector through tight-beam laser coms. He had given express orders to make this outpost and the troops that he would use as innocuous as possible, as mundane as the desert sand of the world on which he stood. His people hadn't been found wanting.
With his hands behind his back, Luke assumed the pose favored by other Imperial officers and closed his eyes for a moment. He had refined his plans, run them through his mind time and time again and now the young Prince wanted to center himself for the struggle to come. With his physical eyes shut, his mind's eye was left free to roam. His thoughts touched places and connected with sensations that he couldn't physically reach. The white dunes of Mandalore, its fine white sand produced by the turbolasers of the Old Republic's Judicials during the Mandalorian Excision run through fingers that didn't exist outside of his mind, buzzards gnawed at the flesh of some long dead desert dweller, its beak crimson with blood, as red as the plasma beam of his lightsaber. He extended his mind's reach even further, finding the men and women of his personal guard, clad in their coal black armor. They checked their weapons and equipment almost in perfect unison, their morale buoyed by the constant stream of positive reinforcement that he sent towards them. It wasn't Battle Meditation, nothing that fancy. While strong with the Force, Luke didn't possess the natural affinity for the power that won wars before they began. Unlike his sister.
My poor sister, saddled with the machinations of the Senate. She would have enjoyed this little deception, he thought, his feelings almost verging on sadness but never going over to it. And the slaughter after it, his mind dripped with malice and anticipation of what he would bring on the enemies of his father's Empire.
The flapping of the tent's canvas and the clearing of one's throat brought him back to the here and now. Turning away from the portable holographic display, Luke found General Han Solo, the commander of the 212th Expeditionary Force, the ground assault arm of the forces under his command.
Remember to smile, brother. You have a winning smile.
"General Solo", Luke said as he fully turned towards his fellow officer, extending him a hand and a smile which were graciously accept. "Thank you for joining me down in the sands."
The Corellian let out a very unprofessional chuckle, more akin to that of a trickster smuggler than an Imperial General. "Your father found me in the mud, your Highness. I won't be deterred by a little jog in the desert."
"Ah yes, of course. My father speaks very highly of the time you shared on Mimban", Luke replied, his voice dripping with the princely grace that his mother had taught him to use, mentioning the battle that had made the general's name as well as career. The bloody and badly run campaign against the Confederate Remnants on Mimban had drawn the attention of then young Emperor Skywalker. On that ball of mud and humidity that its denizens called home, Anakin Skywalker had come across a brave but confused corporal that followed him onto death as the stalemate was broken. That same Corporal had showed him the true extent of the mismanagement of the campaign as well as the solution to the problem that was the Citadel of Mimban's defenses. Han Solo got to live another day, a place at the Academy at Carida and a rapidly advancing career as the Emperor's protégé while the Emperor got a world and the eternal loyalty of a capable man. A very fair exchange, all things considered, the young Prince thought.
"If everything goes as planned, General, this will be my Mimban", he continued truthfully enough. Luke needed a serious victory, one that would his Grand Admiral plaque was not a gift from a loving father, given to him as if they were the keys to sport's speeder.
"Would you care to…", Luke continued but he was soon interrupted.
"Your Highness, we're receiving transmissions from the prison", one of his communications officers said with an even, professional voice.
"And so it begins…", Luke whispered, a sinister smile spreading his lips. "Let's hear it, Lieutenant. Join me if you will, General". Turning towards the holographic display once again, Luke studied its readings as the audio from the prison began playing in the background.
"… we're under attack by Mandalorian rebels bearing the colors of Clan Wren. Fifteen to twenty troopers, two of them have lightsabers, I repeat two of them have lightsabers".
"Ursa makes her move and if those are Jedi…", General Solo spoke under his breath as he leaned over the display himself, studying the movements of the red and blue dots that clashed on it. "It's Phoenix Cell. Sir, we must dispatch the LAATs, now", he pointed towards the communication officer convey the order for the gunships to take off with his hand.
"Belay that, Lieutenant."
"But sir, you can end it right then and there. Didn't you wish to draw them in by leaving the prison complex so undefended?"
So close yet so far away, Luke thought, fixing the golden cufflinks with the engraved S on them, a gift from his mother. He sees but he rushes. We will fix that in due time. "Lieutenant, send coded message 1 to the convoy", he said without acknowledging the tension that he felt rising through Solo, his thoughts screaming at what he perceived as the incompetence of youth. "What do you know of our Mandalorian enemy, General?", he continued, his eyes remaining glued to the holographic display.
The question must have taken Solo by surprise for his tension began to dissipate. Curiosity was exuded from him now. "They were enemies of the Old Republic for thousands of years. A warrior culture that is only fit for mercenaries and rebels nowadays".
"That is what most people know, yes. In fact, that is the way Imperial High Command has been treating them, just like the Republic before them. Preconceptions are really hard to break. But since I was given the honor of pacifying this unruly province, I decided to take the advice of one of my teachers to heart."
"And what advice was that, your Highness?"
Luke cleared his throat, deepening his voice to a cold baritone in imitation a man that he respected above all with the exception of his father. "Each culture is different. Each species is unique. That presents challenges to the warrior, who often must ascertain from limited clues the strategy, goals, and tactics of an opponent. It is an unorthodox approach to warfare General, I will concede as much but he has known more successes in his time than even the Emperor. There is much mutual admiration between them."
"I must admit that it sound like a bunch of philosophical aphorisms. But if the Emperor agrees.", Solo said, very carefully choosing his words.
"When he returns from his latest posting, I shall acquaint you. Any military man can learn something from him", the admiration in the Prince's voice being barely concealed. "But on to the business at hand. I combed the cultural databases for the history, art and culture of the Mandalorian people. They are an interesting people with a much deeper and structured way of life than they'd have us know. They are a factory of war, General. Their religion deifies the concept itself, their clans are family conglomerations and army units in equal measure. They follow the Resol'nare, a code of conduct that consists of wearing armor, speaking the Mandalorian language, defending oneself along with one's family, contributing to the welfare of your clan, rallying to the Mand'alor when summoned, and raising one's children in the Mandalorian ways and finally, all of them believe that they are peerless warriors with the sole exception of a pacifist strain during the Clone Wars." His eyes shifted towards the display, noting the line of vehicles leaving from the back exit of the prison facility. Just as planned. "Lieutenant. Broadcast the convoy's purpose and destination on an open channel. Make it convincing, please".
"Why would…", General Solo's voice trailed a question, befuddled but working the problem in his mind.
"We can infer two things out of the evidence before us, General", Luke continued from where he had left off. "Family means everything to a Mandalorian and they are arrogant to a fault, placing too much worth in their perceived martial superiority. This groups arrogance has been inflated more than usual due to the uselessness of the late Gar Saxon…", Luke said, spitting the name out as it was a curse. He had grown to hate the Saxons with the fury of a thousand suns. Their ability to create a mess was unparalled, their right to rule over the Mandalorians continuously challenged. And after Gar Saxon lost the Darksaber, it was completely without merit in the eyes of most of his enemies. There are too many men and women like them in the Empire's service. "Which means that they should be shifting their attack pattern to intercept it just about… now".
The hologram followed suit, one set of red dots converging on the convoy while the other moved towards a point that was perfect for an ambush.
Short burst of laughter escaped General Solo as soon as he saw the movements play out, as if they were under the direct control of the Prince. "The Wren clan can't leave their own behind. They'll divert them to a point of their choosing, splitting their forces to do so but in reality it is a point of your choosing".
"Precisely, General", Luke replied. As I said, we'll iron out his faults in no time. "And thus, we will end this Civil War in no time"
"I think I'll subscribe to Galactic Culture Quarterly the first chance I get", he said and shared the mischievous smile of his commander.
"A wise investment, General Solo. Lieutenant. Please let our friends in the garrison know that they are able to move on the diverting force", Luke said. His eyes followed the convoy like a hawk as they moved to the ambush point. They would be there in five minutes. Luke wanted to burst with excitement and anticipation. He was bawling his fists behind his back, stealing looks at the lightsaber hanging from his belt. He would get to use it soon enough. The lieutenant nodded and began transmitting her message. A walker carrier appeared on the side of the map as it swooped towards the force that had diverted the convoy, the one side of his pincer closing around the Mandalorians.
"Excellent. Time for the big event. Will you join me General? I can find a weapon with a little more kick for you, if you'd like", Luke offered as he approached the tent's fold.
The General didn't spend any time thinking on the issue. "Wouldn't miss it for the world, your Highness. My blaster will do."
Luke walked with quick steps towards his personal gunship, the long white cape of his uniform fluttering behind him, Solo positioning himself just behind him. The Death Troopers that guarded the outpost formed up around him, boarding the LAAT before the doors closed.
The red light of the armored beast's underbelly bathed everyone within. It made the armor of the troopers look like dark obsidian while it made Luke's white attire seem to have been dripped in blood. There was no word exchanged between the soldiers and their commander, no superlative words of inspiration or empowerment, no attempts to stave off death. With eyes closed, he touched their minds briefly and knew that they wouldn't need speeches or fanfare.
"Contact, contact, contact", the pilot shouted after a few minutes as the orders for radio silence had expired. With a tap of his wrist, Luke was connected to their network.
"Bathe the area in missile and heavy laser fire. Everybody but Sabine Wren is expendable. She is the one wielding a black saber", he informed his Guard and the only answer he received was the concussion missile launchers above him bellowing fire. The fore and side turrets followed suit, filling the air with fire, blood and burning limbs.
The side doors of the gunship were pushed open, with zip lines for the troops falling down to the ground. Luke didn't have any need for such devices, simply walking outside with a slight step, finding himself on the ground in a second. With hands locked behind his back, the Prince and Grand Admiral admired the work of his Troopers, the bloodbath that they had unleashed on their unsuspecting victims. A boy with a peculiar helmet laid on the ground under the mangled corpse of a Supercommando. The lower half of his body was missing, his fingers moving around the peculiar hilt of a lightsaber as his shell-shocked brain tried to comprehend its impending doom. A heavy-set Protector in a blue armor stood up from under a heap of mangled metal. He began charging towards Luke only to be cut down by three short bursts of blaster fire. His Death Troopers moved quickly, dispatching Imperial Supercommandos and rebel Mandalorian survivors alike with clinical precision, doing their own little part in purging both the cancer of rebellion and incompetence from the body of the Empire.
"Pin her down. Hold her back!", a shout came, followed by more bursts of blaster fire, accurate and controlled.
Luke shifted his step and released his white cloak from around his throat. Style was important but it would hold him back now. "LAAT 1, 2 and 3 move to assist with the diversion team. No survivors". Unlike the others that his father had dispatched to solve the riddle of Mandalore, he would not resort to half measures or limp solutions. The problem will be solved once and for all.
He turned around the corner of a burning vehicle, finding his men pointing their guns at what he surmised to be Sabine Wren, the Darksaber in her hands.
"Lady Sabine Wren", he said, clapping his hands once before extending them at her as if he wanted to hug her, the dark humorous streak that he shared with his father shining through and through. "Or is it Countess Wren. If my forces have killed your family already that is. The question will prove to be purely academic soon enough in any case."
"You talk too much, Princeling", the proud girl retorted, unable to hide her pain and distress that were absent from her face.
"I do?", he replied, feigning surprise. "You should meet my sister. I swear that she loves the sound of her own voice more than anything."
Sabine didn't seem amused. "Fine then, I will get to the point". He reached for his lightsaber, a masterpiece of phrik alloy, a mauve material mined from his mother's native world, encasing a chrystal of krayt dragon pearl from his father's native Tattoine. He activated his weapon, the red blade seemingly flowing out of the hilt in a dark red stream. "Come on then. My men and the whole of Mandalore will be watching".
The girl's eyes flew all around her. First to the Troopers, then to the mangled remains of her friends and the convoy before finally falling on a chasm close-by.
Amusing
Her surface thoughts were too loud, requiring no effort to read them. "That's not a Mandalorian thing to do, is it Wren? Mandalorians die gladly in combat. If you want to die in disgrace, do so. It makes no difference to me. I'll have what you're trying to protect anyway". The girl froze staying in place for a few seconds before her eyes turned to meet him. They were full of hate, full of anger and black venom. Luke could drink them in, feast on their power.
"Yes! Yes, Sabine. Let's try and kill each other, please! Give the bards something to sing about."
In a few minutes, the whole affair was over. With his lightsaber clipped on his belt and the Darksaber firmly inside his gloved hand, Luke spoke into his wrist comlink. "Agent Iceheart, please take care of the Viceroy for me. Make him sign the song you've come up with and prepare the Duchess for transport to Mustafar."
"Acknowledged, your Highness", the cold, unfeeling voice of a woman come back in response.
As he walked towards the gunship that would take him to the capital of this place, it took him a few seconds to realize what he had done.
He had played in the big leagues and he had won. With the Darksaber won in a duel, he could claim the loyalty of the remaining Mandalorians. With Saxon's death and the subsequent framing of the Clan as the instigators of the entire war, their reputation would be ruined. It would be made worse only by the fact that Tiber Saxon was willing to use the Duchess, the superweapon made by the girl he had killed without the Empire even knowing about it in some misguided attempted to destroy his clan enemies. Or at least that was what the Mandalorian people would know, a masterful deception put together by Iceheart in an attempt to him into the liberator of the people of this planet, the man that ended the chaos and with ownership of the Darksaber, an acceptable ruler of the Mandalorian people.
Luke would secure his position amongst the Mandalorians, play at being Mandalore for a while until he could earn their trust and turn them to his side. And then he would return to Coruscant a conquering hero. Nobody would claim that he didn't have the skill for his plaque anymore. Nobody would fail to link him with his father's achievements at the same age and everybody would know that the House of Skywalker was still as vital and as strong as the days after the Clone Wars.
Sundari Royal Palace, the next day
The next day was spent with an unending sea of dignitaries, public speaking, parades and wondrous ceremonies celebrating his accession. As night fell, Luke had decided to host one last event for the most important figures under his charge.
A thousand people more or less, he thought as him and General Solo retired, nay retreated to the bar that had been set up in the lavish throne room of the Sundari Palace, attempting to catch their breath. They spent most of the day together, the spotlight having fallen on them as the conquering heroes of the day.
"I wanted to be a pilot, believe it or not. I showed too much initiative for that, apparently", General Solo explained as they were through their third glass of Corellian Whiskey, a delicacy that Luke had promised to himself would never be in short supply in the palace after tasting it for the first time.
"Everything happens for a reason, General. If it happened as you wished, we wouldn't be sharing this triumph", Luke said before taking a sip from his drink. The amber liquid burned him as it went down his throat but in quite a pleasurable way. The strong aroma and taste more than made up for it.
"Sharing? I didn't do much more than gawk at your plan, sir. It's the first time I felt somewhat obsolete."
"Perhaps", Luke sidestepped the issue again, wishing not to offend the decorated hero. "You'll have more than enough chance to prove your worth in the months to come."
"I somehow doubt it."
"And why is that General?"
"See, sir. I did some historical research of my own. It turns out that the saber that girl used is an important Mandalorian symbol of rulership. You might be their Viceroy officially but most people consider you as their King now or Mandolare? Mandalore… I am sorry sir, did I say anything wrong?", Han asked, confused as to why the Prince was smiling.
"On the contrary, General. You were quite correct. I am merely pleased that you took my lessons to heart so quickly. Others have proven more dogmatic in their approach to warfare. Settled in their ways", Luke said, truly pleased to find a kindred spirit amongst the Officer Corps.
"I am Corellian, sir. We adapt or die. Now, I'll have this refilled. Would you like another yourself?"
Luke thought about before waving his head slightly in the negative. "I think that's enough for tonight. I'll return to being a gracious host."
They split up each one taking their separate ways as they snaked through the crowds of visitors that were invited to his accession ceremony. It was an interesting mix of traders, diplomats, soldiers, members of the citizenry and even a few more unsavory characters, all necessary cogs to the machine of state. I sound like mother now, he thought. The High Queen of Naboo and Speaker of the Senate had trained her children to be gracious hosts, accepting within their halls all that would be useful to them, wherever they came from.
Better to cajole than to break. If you break something, you can't put it back together, he remembered telling them during one of their civics lessons.
There are some things that you can only fix by breaking, the shadow of his father had shot back. The fact that these two people could ever come together remained a mystery to Luke. They couldn't be more different. Maybe that's why he's secluded himself on Must…
"You seem troubled, your Highness."
The icy cold voice chilled his spine momentarily, forcing him to look up towards it. He was met with a most peculiar pair of eyes. They were mismatched, red and blue, fire and ice. They adorned a hard face, all sharp angles, high cheekbones and a slightly upturned, regal nose. It wasn't a face that was immediately attractive when you looked at it for the first time but a second later you were transfixed by its belligerence, its energy, the promise of both danger and a good time. The woman looked down on him, being taller by a few inches. He studied her momentarily from head to toe, trying very hard to keep himself from focusing on the spots that her form fitting golden dress had no trouble in bringing attention to.
"Not at all. Who are you?", Luke replied sharply, forgetting his manners.
"A Grand Admiral shouldn't forget his subordinates", the woman shot back without a moment's hesitation. How dare she? Doesn't she know who I am, what I can do? Does she not care? His nails bit into his fists as his knuckles turned white.
"A Grand Admiral has tens of thousands of them. He isn't expected to know everybody."
"That he isn't it. But this one, a Grand Admiral has known since he was a young boy", she said taking a sip from her champagne glass, delicate fingers holding its neck.
Everything finally fell into place as Luke saw the image that formed in front of him. "Ysanne", he whispered the single word. "You are Iceheart?"
"That's indeed my stage name, your Highness", she said before leaning closer to him, lowering herself to reach his ear. "Agent Isard, reporting for duty."
A cold rose through Luke's back once again, an involuntary reaction as he now fully recognized Armand Isard's daughter. The eyes you fool, you should have recognized the eyes, he blamed himself. Victory had made him complacent, damned slow. Ysanne Isard had always been around the Imperial Palace, following her father like a puppy. Armand Isard had been the Architect of the Empire's Intelligence Apparatus. He had easily switched masters when his father took control, his own domain secured during the transition. A regular fixture in his father's councils. She had even kept Luke and Leia company whenever their fathers were in council, much to the chargin of his mother, who wanted her children to have nothing to do with the Isards.
Breathing in to center himself, he tried holding back the floodgates that opened within him. Why is she here? Did her father specifically assign her to me? A Coup in the works? All reasonable questions when you were a member of an Emperor's Court, especially in one belonging to an absentee Emperor. Luke needed answers and he would have to get them one way or another. As a waiter passed next to them, the Prince removed the champagne glass from the agent's grip and left it on the tray. She only had a second to react before he shoved it behind her back and upwards, pushing her forward out of the throne room. Ysanne gasped for a second before cooperating with him for the rest of the way until they reached an empty sideroom. Luke kicked the door closed after him and pushed her towards the wall. The woman gasped again but this time, it had a tinge of playfulness. It made Luke slightly uncomfortable and much to his own surprise, curious in what else could make her repeat that. Focus!
"If you know so much, then you know what I can do to you", he warned her with a raised finger, trembling in anger.
Instead of answering, she exhaled sharply, pushing one of her white locks out of the way before using her hand to swipe it off and return it to form, her face remaining hard and unphased.
"I know that you can break necks with a thought, just like your father. I know what holovids you like and your favorite Mon Calamari Opera. Weirdly, it's the same one that Chancellor Palpatine used to like. I know where you shared your first kiss and with whom, which was slightly unsettling but to each his own I suppose..."
How?, Luke thought before he realized that it was useless question. She was just like her father, a master of details and cunning.
"I've memorized everything about you, your Highness."
"Why?!", he shouted at her, tired of all this cloak and dagger maneuvers. It was too much like Coruscant and the Imperial Palace for his taste.
"The fact that you even have to ask, your Highness, is the answer", she retorted in her icy tone, speaking steadily, never raising her voice. Her daring had returned too as she approached him slowly, taking special care to use her entire form to her advantage, testing the waters, waiting for a reaction. "Your success here will make you a target. With the Emperor on Mustafar, away from the Court, a realignment of power might be in the cards. You have a measure of the rogue within you and you understand that a Prince needs a powerbase. We're in your palace after all." She was a breath away now and with no signs of stopping, prompting him to backtrack towards the wall. Ysanne smiled at the sight of his retreat, no doubt enjoying the whole thing. "But you are a soldier, first and foremost, just like the Emperor. You need your own spymaster, the person that will help you build that power base...", she paused as Luke's back touched the wall. "For your own good, your Highness. You never know what might be just over the horizon."
Luke grabbed the wrist of her right hand as it was slowly inching towards him in faux hesitation, deciding that it was time to push back slightly. The Prince extended his thoughts, trying to read whatever he could without alerting her to his presence within her mind. There was general truthfulness in her words, mixed with a seductive pink haze. She knew she was beautiful and would use it to her advantage without the slightest second thought.
Focus!, he ordered himself again. He desperately strived to keep things in a strictly professional playing field but it was proving increasingly difficult. Let's at least mix the two.
"And your own good?", he asked, as he guided Ysanne's hand to rest behind his neck. With his own hands around her waist, the Prince pulled the taller woman closer to him "Let's talk about that, shall we?"
"I want my father's place", she said, simply and directly.
"Director of Imperial Intelligence?", the words caught in his throat. Her forthcomingness was attractive in more ways than one. Luke hated the superfluous language of the court, wishing to cut through to the meat of a conversation. When that cutting was done by such delightful razor, well then...
Ysanne nodded, her eyes locked with his own in a death grip. Luke quickly went through his options as Ysanne's cold lips nipped at his neck as his hands roamed through her delicate form, her dress offering him little resistance. The first eventuality was that this whole thing was a trap, a ploy to get him to commit some crime against Imperial Authority. Yet, he couldn't see how that would come to pass. If he didn't act, the whole thing would come down to his word against the spymaster's and he knew who his father would believe when it was brought to his attention. If he and Ysanne managed to pull off such a ploy, she would become a member of the Imperial Executive Council and he would get a powerful ally of his own. The thing that gnawed at him the most was that she had a point. There was a power struggle coming, however much he wished that it wasn't. With his father withdrawn to his castle on the lava plains, old enemies reared their ugly head. Palpatine loyalists like Sate Pestage and Mas Amedda made noises in the Senate while Tarkin's faction in the military chafed under the prohibition on Imperial Superweapons like the Death Star Station, especially since it was based on something as intangible as their leader's belief in the power of the Force.
Forcing Ysanne to look at him with a gentle yet forceful finger under her chin, Luke locked eyes with her. "Let's work together", he simply said and then sealed their deal by leaning forward towards her lips. He fliched for a moment, their unsettling coldness validating her nickname. Yet, she was inviting in her own way. She was a ruthless creature full of naked, unapologetic ambition and drive that would be content with burning the Galaxy if she couldn't have it. Luke was drawn by that darkness, that hunger. And just like that he didn't want to play the gracious host anymore. Pushing her forward, she guided them towards the door of the side room, locking it with a swift move before activating his wrist comlink.
"Inform my guests that an urgent message has arrived from Coruscant and it demands my immediate attention. They may enjoy themselves as if I was there. I thank them for their attendance."
"Lying? Princes don't lie Luke", she spoke between gasps, as she run her fingers through his hair while he travelled lower down her body. Then, she felt invisible hands tightening around her neck. Her own flew upwards as she tried clawing for air.
"Princes don't lie, your Highness. Nod if you understand please."
Luke didn't have to wait long before that nod came.
It allowed him to return at what he was doing with renewed vigor.
Author's notes: -This is for you Disney. I don't own your shit.
-I'll be using BBY and ABY dates because they are the most easy to use and the most widespread. This doesn't mean that Yavin will happen.
-I am using a mix of Canon and Legends for the maximum of things that I like. For example, Han's backstory is his Canon backstory while the juggernaut of manipulation that is Ysanne Isard is Legends as of the time of writing.
-I got the idea after reading about some machinations in the Roman Court of Augustus. This fic in general will focus more on that aspect of things, the various political circles that maneuver for power. The Rebel Alliance exists but having lost several key organizers they will have a hard time becoming the power that they became. They'll be mostly in the background of this story but they'll be here.
-The most difficult thing about this is depicting Luke and Leia that were raised in this environment. I decided to prop up their worst tendencies while keeping some of their core characteristics the same. For example, Luke not only knows that he is a powerful force user but revels in it. His proclivity for dangerous women is a known Legends attribute. One of his girlfriends after all became a Dark Lord of Sith and almost killed his wife, who was also mind programmed to kill him at one point. He's awesome but also a weird dude.
-I am open to any and all feedback.
-Thank you for your time.
