A/N: Had a little time today amidst the craziness, so I decided to update! Hope you all enjoy this new chapter. By the way, there are slight spoilers for Leia, princess of Alderaan, but they are seriously very slight. Also, 2V is her attendant droid. It will make sense when you read :).

…~oOo~…

As I was transferred by shuttle to the Death Star, I kept my eyes open. Wide open. Chief Pangie's words from three years ago came back to me, as clearly as if the broad-shoulder Chandrilan woman stood right in front of me.

"Pathfinding is about more than learning how to find your way around. It's about learning how to think on your feet, how to deal with real risks–even about facing the fear of death."

Pathfinder training kicking in, my gaze and my senses sharpened to the distinct melody of this moon of death. I mentally mapped out the path we took from the hangar to the elevators. I counted each turn and every corridor we walked down. I made note of all clusters of marching stormtroopers making their way to various stations, and marked in my mind which direction they went.

As we took one particular turn, a little MSE droid zipped by my feet, and blast it. Again, R2-D2 rose to the surface of my thoughts. No doubt he was now on Tatooine's surface, rolling across the desert's many sand dunes in the effort to complete his mission. But no. I needed to wipe away even a trace of any guilty thoughts–a task which became more difficult with every mistake that I made.

The last words my father had said to me trickled back into my mind. His faith in me complete, he'd asked me to fulfill this most momentous of tasks: Go to Scarif, retrieve the plans, and get them to General Kenobi. The first mission had already been asked; the second was tacked on after Jyn Erso had invaded the high-profile Imperial base.

"A war needs warriors to fight it," Dad explains. "And this station plan–this flaw within them–is vital to our survival."

"But… surely…" I venture. "...surely there's someone better."

He chuckles gently, setting his hand to my cheek. His warm brown eyes regard me with aching tenderness and terrible trust. "There is no one better. No one I trust more. Taking on all these responsibilities as you have these past three years… they've shaped you into a glittering star. There's nothing you can't handle, Leia."

There is nothing left for me to do but nod, accept the mission, and give Dad a big hug before I head for the Tantive IV…

While his words had confused me, and still did–typically, Bail Organa was not the type to fall back on poetic flattery–I had known that I could only accept his faith and this task and move forward, one step at a time. But each step in the Scarif mission had brought further danger and more mess, even as my own physical steps did so now. The troopers all but tossed me into the cell once we arrived there, and I landed with a crash that 2V surely would've termed "inelegant".

"You won't get away with this!" I called after them, scrambling to my feet even after the door hissed shut. "Do you hear me?"

No one replied. I gave the durasteel door a single kick to emphasize the point, then headed over to the metal bench. My "bed," if I had to wager a guess. What luxury.

No doubt I was on camera right now, watched keenly by those two lackeys at the observation desk my "escorts" and I had passed. I couldn't show any fear, any sign of breaking. So, I sat against the head of the metal bench, setting my features in a resolute mask, the same I used in the senate.

Then, shutting my eyes, I prayed. Though I believed in the Force, I rarely believed it directly guided action. Today, I prayed so. No, I didn't pray for the crew of the Tantive to be alive. That was already set, done, unchangeable. I didn't even pray that Vader would miraculously decide me innocent. Instead, I prayed for my people's safety, for my parent's safety, and for my friend's safety. Prayed that whatever possible reprisal the Empire implemented might be minute, costing as little as possible to all of them.

Finally, I prayed I would be found soon. Right now, escaping on my own seemed singularly impossible. I had to trust in those who could help, and would come.

Much as it proved deeply unpleasant, sometimes being a leader meant sitting and trusting in those you led to achieve their tasks and then help you in turn. Though that didn't mean I wasn't compiling all information to take back to Base when I did return.

I refused to contemplate any other alternative.

…~oOo~…

I'll give him this much: Vader didn't keep me waiting for long. Maybe the suspense of waiting became too much for him. Or maybe the opportunity to hurt me proved too tempting to resist. (I didn't know why, but I always got the impression he disliked me for no good reason other than being an Alderaanian, or an Organa, or a suspected rebel. A defiant one.)

With a hiss, the door sprung open, giving life to the dark specter and the two soldiers flanking him. As they swept in, I cringed automatically, but then tightened my hold on myself. No fear. No breaking.

Vader began, "I hope you find your quarters adequate, Your Highness."

I lifted my chin and spoke with all the regal chill I could muster, which was a lot. "I demand to be released and given a formal trial."

This got only a wave of one massive hand. "Spare me your indignation. I've neither the time nor the patience for it."

The other black-gloved hand swept back, and a strange sound pierced the eerie stillness, in which even Vader's breathing had seemed quieter. A dull beeping began, one that sizzled through the air like a bolt of static and made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. The sound gave way to form a spherical droid which bobbed slightly as it came toward me. Its glossy black exterior, shot through by silver, and punctuated by a red eye light, rang as recognizable from every nightmare I'd ever had about situations like these.

Stars. Stars, stars, I thought, numbed to my fingertips by the shock, unsure whether I was praying again or panicking afresh. Maybe both. A torture droid.

It wasn't like I hadn't expected it, torture. But like seeing Antilles's body, expecting something and seeing the stark reality of it proved two entirely different propositions. Before I knew it, I was up and moving—but there was nowhere to run—

Vader's strong arms seized me by the waist, effortlessly holding me in place like I weighed no more than a rag doll. "This is your last chance, Your Highness. Tell me what I want to know, or I will be forced to use more unpleasant means."

Never. Even in my terror, the defiance rose up within me, a well of hate and resolve and refusal to yield. No fear. No breaking. This was for my mother, and my father, and for the brave soldiers of the Alliance fighting to free the galaxy. "I don't know what you're talking about," I insisted again.

Maybe for the last time.

"So it shall be," he rumbled, and set me back down.

At its master's command, the ITO droid careened toward me, too fleetly to even try to avoid. Its long, wicked needle pierced my flesh with agonizing precision, shooting fire through every part of my body. With a cry, I toppled to the floor.

…~oOo~…

As always, if you liked reading, please let me know!

Also—I wanted to ask you all: how much detail do you want on the torture scene? I was thinking I would just skip to after and vaguely reference Leia being in a lot of pain, etc., since I don't particularly want to write an intense torture scene. I could also write it briefly. Which would you prefer?

Thank you all so much for reading!
Until next time,

Rivkah