…~oOo~…

What did I think? That Antilles would somehow live? No… no… I never believed that. But to see his body… it's something much different than mere knowledge. It's concrete reality. He has a wife. Daughters. Now, he'll never return to them. All because of Vader. Insides shriveling like a rose plucked in the heat of summer, I acknowledged that in some removed spot in my heart, I had hoped they would at least keep the Captain alive for questioning. But that hope, too, had been crushed to dust by the fist of the great, black-armored enforcer before me.

Yet some part of myself clicked into place as the troopers lock-stepped to a halt, and I faced him. "Darth Vader." I poured every ounce of the hatred I felt into my voice. No need to hold back now. Time to let my anger and disgust fly. "I should have known. Only you could be so bold. The Imperial Senate will not sit still for this. When they hear you've attacked a diplomatic—"

He cut me off with pinpoint precision, "Don't act so surprised, Your Highness. You weren't on any mercy mission this time. Several transmissions were beamed to this ship by rebel spies. I want to know what happened to the plans they sent you."

Stang. He knew exactly what the crew of Rogue One had done on Scarif. Though I couldn't be entirely surprised—the battle there hadn't exactly been subtle—disappointment still sliced through me like the stroke of a knife's blade. He knew the plans were out there, somewhere.

But he clearly didn't know they were in R2-D2, already hurtling down to the planetary surface. R2 needed as much time as I could get him. There was still a chance for this mission to succeed, a hope. I pressed on, "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm a member of the Imperial senate on a diplomatic mission to Alderaan!"

"You are part of the Rebel Alliance," Vader retorted heatedly, "and a traitor!" He swung around to the nearest underling, and ordered, "Take her away!"

And so, they did.

…~oOo~…

My "quarters" on the Devastator came as comfortless as anything ever could. A cold, four-by-four cell, my only company the guards that changed out of rotation every now and again. I heard them, though I didn't see them. The clank clank clank of their boots on the mesh metal floors became the sole focus around which the rest of my existence orbited.

I knew Vader had put me in here to stew, to grow anxious. He never came to my cell, and he didn't send any underlings to it, either; he must've figured that the threat of them coming would hang over my head, keeping me on edge the entire time. Haunting me. Wearing me down. Making me ready. If I'm being entirely honest… it wasn't without its effects, either.

No doubt he'd had many prisoners before me to practice these techniques on. Maybe not a princess, though. I might be his first princess or queen, I mused darkly. But those dark musings took me to thoughts of my mother and father that made me so full of fear that I began to feel seasick and weak. I didn't know where Dad was right now. Last I had seen him, he had been on Yavin, and I very much hoped he still remained there. If he did, he couldn't be arrested with Mom.

Mom. Would they arrest her? Could they? Vader saw my guilt as concrete, of course; if he hadn't, I never would've been arrested. The arrest of any member of the royal family of a core world was nothing if not significant, and what was more, the people cared about us a great deal. Not that it would stop the Empire if our guilt was proven. But it was possible–just possible–that they needed a real, tangible confession from me before they could do anything to my parents. After all, I knew that they hadn't found the plans, and they had not gotten any actual admission of guilt from anyone on the Tantive IV, or from me.

I fixated on this hope like it was an anchor to tow me to shore. Now, I had two purposes, two missions: buy time for R2-D2, and stay tight-lipped to keep my family and my people safe from retribution. I might be captured, but they might be saved.

Was I naive to believe this could work? For a moment, I thought back to three years ago, and the many arguments my parents and I (mostly Dad and I) had had about my desire to involve myself in the Alliance.

"If you truly know nothing… eventually… they'll realize that," Mom had said. "There's a chance–a good chance, I think–that they'll let you go. Probably, they would feel the need to keep someone from the royal house of Organa alive, and they could install you as queen. Try to make it seem like a natural transfer of power. It's the only shield we have for you, Leia. Don't ask us to destroy it."

Now, I sat in the same position: working to find a shield for those I loved. Was the effort as futile as theirs had been? But it's different. It is. Nothing is concrete, yet. Nothing is proven. It's only Vader's word, which wouldn't hold up before a Judicial officer. Not when we're the royal family of Alderaan.

I decided to believe this, and began to gird myself to remain stoic and silent whilst Vader's lackeys did whatever they may to me. My parents would soon be searching for me; I knew the moment they learned I'd gone missing, they would begin looking. Once R2 got to Alderaan with General Kenobi, they'd know what had happened. I would get out of this. All I needed to buy was time—for them, for my friends, for my world, and for R2-D2 to complete his task.

Time… to save the galaxy from an eternity of oppression.

…~oOo~...

The Death Star amazed me. I use that in the sense of: Force around us. I've just lost feeling in every part of my body. That station is the size of a moon, and that dish—that's what fired on Jedah—

"Death Star…" The horrified whisper slipped from my lips before I could stop it.

Vader pounced. "Yes," he purred. "The Death Star. The station you claim to have no knowledge of. The plans you claim you do not possess. Thank you, Your Highness. You just made my job very easy." After letting me stew for minutes or hours—Who could tell?—he'd had troopers bring me up to the main bridge as we emerged from the electric swirl of hyperspace. I'd been forced to stand by Vader's side on the bridge, as if I were some kind of companion to him as he performed his evildoing.

(Thankfully, the binders on my wrists exposed that illusion for anyone.)

Now, I knew why he had brought me here to the bridge. I cursed in my mind, unable to believe my own stupidity. I could blame it on exhaustion, or the amazement of the station's sight, but the truth of my massive mistake remained. "No… no…" I said, hunting for something, anything, and finding it in my senatorial role. "There were whispers of it in the senate."

I could tell Vader didn't believe me. After all, in his sick mind, I was already tried and executed. But I didn't let it take my attention away from the Death Star growing closer and closer to us as the Devastator approached; I didn't let it stop me from taking in every bit of information I could soak up on the bridge. Once I did get off the station, I would need to report what I'd seen to the Council and to my parents. All information was important. Nothing was too small. If Galen Erso truly had put in a flaw to the station—and I really, really hoped he had—then an infiltration might be required. My information might prove critical to the mission's success.

Now, it all depended on me staying silent until others could complete their missions. The fate of the galaxy itself lay in the hands of the few, that we might free the many. We wouldn't fail them. We couldn't.

…~oOo~…

A/N: That scene at the end is inspired by the radio dramatization of A New Hope. Has anyone ever listened to it? I did a few years ago and I loved it so much!

Until next time,

Rivkah