I...um...don't have a valid excuse for how long it's been, except...I, um-
Oh look! A new chapter! :D
She'd been levitating for hours.
Well. Maybe not hours; it was probably seconds, but it felt longer. Especially when there was nothing but Vader's steady and annoying kssh-kosh amid their mutual silence.
Then—
"This is incredibly uncomfortable," Leia said as she tried and failed to wriggle out of his invisible and unrelenting hold for what felt like the umpteenth time.
Surprisingly, the hold lessened. Barely. But it was something, and Leia's frightened and frustrated glower morphed into something more normal.
Then, more silence and kssh-koshes until—
"You should've stayed in the ship."
Leia couldn't help it. Her mouth fell open and her eyebrows skyrocketed. There was only one thought racing through her head, and she couldn't stop it when it slipped out: "You knew?"
He said nothing, but didn't have to, because of course he knew.
The closet hadn't been locked before she'd crawled in, and he'd stopped by it both when he'd boarded and disembarked, so he had to have heard or sensed her erratic heartbeat or breathing. But instead of opening the door and chastising or arresting her, he'd locked it. And if Threepio hadn't come along, they would've still been in there, undoubtedly pounding and screaming until somebody happened to stroll by.
Not that anybody would stroll by, since the hangar had been—
Well. That explained why the hangar'd been empty. Why the halls weren't bustling with troopers, guards, or officers until they'd gotten further along. How everything'd been so easy until…
Now.
He'd known.
Probably from the start. Probably before she'd even decided to stow away on his ship.
Stupid space wizard powers…
But…if he'd known, why'd he let her? If he was just going to get violent or imprison her, why bother if he'd known before they left Alderaan?
He could've simply grabbed her by her collar, ratted her out, and demanded an apology (which she would only give if absolutely necessary), recompense (which would've upset her mother), or unyielding loyalty (which would've further upset her father).
Leia blinked while Vader stared, silent.
Did this…? Did this have something to do with the conversation she'd just overheard? Those Rebel connections Vader'd accused her father of—even though they were clearly wrong? Was this all to get leverage? To get Alderaan back into line, even though her home planet and adoptive parents hadn't done anything against the Empire's or Emperor's will?
Leia wasn't privy to all Organa secrets, but she'd bet her left boot she'd know about potential Rebel connections. So—
That couldn't be it.
Which meant there was something else, something she was missing. And her instincts told her it had something to do with her biological mother—Padmé Amidala—and Vader's critical analysis of her eyes and face when they'd been on Alderaan.
So…
"Why—?"
"How'd you escape?"
Leia scowled, then glanced at Artoo's hunched and unmoving casing.
Vader peered left, then something akin to a snort escaped his mask. "Impossible," he said. "Artoo couldn't've found an appropriate work-around. I hard-wired it to be accessed via the exterior, only."
Leia's gaze fell onto Threepio, who'd remained alarmingly still and quiet since Vader'd tossed Artoo across the room with nary an effort.
Vader's mask tilted. "Of course," he said, like he knew what'd happened without even being there. Like he hadn't just asked. "Together, those two always manage to get in the way."
Leia remained silent at that. She didn't know what to say nor how to react, so she kept quiet and mulled on his words. How they were phrased. What they'd meant.
There was only one logical conclusion: Vader'd seen Artoo and Threepio before—had probably even met them on more than one occasion, since his artificial tone sounded so…frustrated.
But that was…odd.
Because Artoo and Threepio had been around since her birth. And as far as she knew, that was ten full years of being nigh inseparable, wherein they only parted with her for etiquette classes, school, or if her father had an unusual task that required one of the droidian duo's many useful skillsets.
But even then, Threepio was terrified of danger and avoided it whenever it sprung its ugly head, and Vader screameddanger from the tip of his polished helmet to the bottom of his durasteel-lined boots.
So, when had they met?
And, more importantly, why had they met?
"You were powered down," Vader said as he shifted away from her and regarded Threepio. "Explain."
Threepio didn't. Instead, it turned its sights on her and waited for permission. Leia nodded, and Threepio said, "Princess Leia has an awful habit of turning me off whenever I prove…difficult."
That wasn't how she would've described it. No, she would've said Threepio had an awful habit of tattling on her when she was about to do something fun. And after the third time of getting in trouble before she should've, she'd learned how to hack into Threepio's system and shut it up.
"So Master Bail installed an override that allows me to auto-reboot after an hour."
True. And annoying since she couldn't figure out how to bypass the override after multiple failed attempts.
Vader clenched a fist, then two. "The trip from Alderaan took four hours."
Threepio didn't hesitate. "When I woke and discovered my location, I thought it best to remain still."
Leia smiled. When they finally escaped Vader's clutches, she was going to give that golden-plated pain-in-the-butt a hug.
Vader didn't like Threepio's answer. He hissed, "Why?"
"My responsibilities include keeping the princess safe," Threepio said as it turned its optical sensors toward her. "And before I was unexpectedly shut down, I knew she was someplace she shouldn't be." It paused. "And when I woke, I calculated an uncomfortably high probably that she was somewhere nearby."
Leia's smile grew. Threepio was going to get a hug and an oil bath when they got home.
"So when I left, you—"
"Went investigating, of course," Threepio said, unabashed.
Vader turned to her, and even though she couldn't see his glower, it felt…heavy. "So you escaped and made your way here." The glare somehow got heavier. "How?"
Leia shrugged. "Dad told you already: I'm incredibly resourcef— Ow!"
Vader's invisible hold suddenly increased tenfold. It made her gasp and wheeze before something…happened. Then it all stopped and she fell to the floor in an uncoordinated heap.
Leia looked up, and—
Vader was there, much too close and pointing.
"That man, whoever he claims to be, is not your—" He didn't continue, and instead took a step back, recalibrated, and mocked, "What resources did you utilize?"
"Common sense," Leia immediately said…which wasn't the right answer when Vader's glare became nearly combustable. "Luck." Which was just as bad, apparently, since he took a thunderous step and growled. "And a really helpful officer."
"Name."
It wasn't a question, but a demand, and Leia wasn't used to those, so she pursed her lips and shook her head. Then it dawned on her: she'd travelled lightyears for answers, and so far, she'd been on the wrong side of the spectrum.
It was time to change that.
"Why'd you go to Alderaan?"
Vader said nothing, and Leia could live with that. She already knew, so she'd tell him.
"You said it was because you'd discovered a connection to Padmé Amidala."
Again, Vader said nothing. And again, he didn't need to. Except—
The room suddenly felt cold, and Leia had to square her shoulders and focus to keep her teeth from chattering.
"I want to know why you want this," she paused before she outed herself, "person, whoever it may be."
"Name."
He could ignore her query all he wanted, but he couldn't ignore it forever. She'd get an answer—eventually—because she was unnaturally stubborn, and—
Was that a trait she'd inherited from her mother?
"Why do you want this person?" she asked, gritting her teeth against the room's ever-growing chill.
"Name."
"Piett." It was out before she could stop it, and she wanted to take it back, except— "Firmus Piett."
Vader flipped a toggle on his chest and barked, "Firmus Piett. Sublevel 2, room 14-5. Now," as Leia clapped her hands over her mouth.
How'd that happen?
She could be tight-lipped when she wanted to be, and she'd certainly wanted to be since she didn't want Mister Piett to get into trouble, but his name had somehow slipped out anyway.
Could Vader—? Could he do that?
Something niggled in the back of her head—a reply of sorts: yes—and she squirmed. She'd already wanted to abandon her cause, but now she really wanted to leave, answers be kriffed, and yet—
She stood up. Stayed still.
"If you won't explain why you want…that person, could you tell me why I'm here? You knew," she said as she bore into his red-tinted lenses. "You knew I was in that closet, so you purposefully brought me along and held me prisoner. So, why'd you do it? Why'm I here?"
There was silence. Then, "You are my quarry. Stop denying it."
Leia stared, and though she didn't want to ask in front of Vader: "Threepio, what's a…quarry?"
Threepio raised a single arm and index finger. "It's usually a giant hole where one can extract raw materials." That didn't sound right. "But in this case, it's prey pursued by a hunter."
That sounded…right. Scary, but right. And she would tell him, eventually, maybe, but before she could, she needed to know and say: "Only when you answer me."
He didn't, and probably never would, until—
A garbled sound; a sigh or whisper, perhaps, then, "You're a child. Ten, at most."
Leia crossed her arms. "Ten and a half rotations, actually."
That half rotation was important. To her, at least. And though people usually chuckled or patted her head when she pointed it out, Vader did neither and instead remained stoic and terrifying.
But, strangely, something felt…different.
"You're a child," he said again.
Leia harrumphed. She hated it when people pointed that out. Yes, she was technically ten—a child—but she'd had more schooling and responsibilities than most of the people she happened to meet. So much more, in fact, that two foreign diplomats who'd come from short-statured, youth-faced planets had confused her for Alderaan's Queen, which her mother still brought up when she was in a particularly jovial mood.
But this wasn't a cute accident that could be settled with an introduction over tea and memorialized every time her mother sipped oolong. This was a messy situation wherein Sith Lord Darth Vader had her captive.
But, she realized, if he considered her a child, maybe she'd receive leniency…or mercy.
"I am a child," Leia admitted with a scowl. "But I'm a child with questions. Lotsa them."
"And you will get answers," he said. "In time. But until then—" He grabbed her arm with an uncomfortable, vice-like grip, then dragged her toward the hall door. "—you are needed elsewhere."
Leia tried to dig in her heels and fight against him, but the durasteel floor proved troublesome and unyielding, so she yanked on Vader's cape until he dropped his gaze.
"Am I under arrest?" she asked as he pulled, because it was what he said he'd do when he found her.
But once again, he didn't answer, so she did the most childish thing she could think of, and—
"Artoo! Artoo, wake up! Wake up now!"
But Artoo did not, and Threepio frantically ran forward until the door whooshed closed, screaming, "Princess!"
OoOoO
She felt vulnerable without Artoo and Threepio.
Vulnerable, alone, and…confused.
Because Vader'd drug her through a series of long and winding halls, then into a lift, then down another series of what looked like the same halls, until—
"Lemme go! Lemme go! Lemme— Hey!"
He plopped her into a seat and pushed it forward until her tummy squished tight against the edge of a table. She went to push herself away, but he was there to shove her back in.
"Stay," he said with a threatening point.
She most certainly would not. Until—
She smelled it. Saw it.
Food.
So much food it practically filled up a three-foot radius before her immovable chair.
Leia blinked.
It was a colorful display overtop a drab tabletop, and she didn't understand, and went to say as much. "How—? Why—?" Until she realized she'd spent their entire journey from sublevel 4 to 2 screaming, while he'd pointedly ignored her and barked orders into the contraption on his chest.
Well. At least she knew what he'd been doing in lieu of listening to her eardrum-bursting and totally reasonable demands.
But…it was odd. Captors didn't usually give their prisoners smorgasbords.
Right?
Maybe her assumptions were wrong, because Vader grabbed a plate and loaded a variety of delicacies onto it. Then he dropped it in front of her and said, "Children are always hungry. Eat."
Leia didn't.
She'd seen more than her fair share of pirate-themed holodramas; and in each of them, when the goody-goody-two-shoes hero got captured and given rations, it was always—always—poisoned, tampered with, or a sly gesture to get something else.
Usually information.
But she didn't have anything he'd find valuable, and didn't trust him any further than she could throw him, so she pushed the plate away. "Not until you eat, first."
"Impossible," he said.
That was…cryptic.
"How come?"
"Eat."
The plate slid to the place where Vader'd originally dropped it—without either of them touching it—and Leia pushed back her chair and whirled. "Not until you start answering me."
Vader remained silent, so Leia kept going. "Why'm I here?"
He grabbed the back of her chair and leaned forward. "Yes," he said. "Why are you here?"
Leia narrowed her eyes.
Fine. If he wanted her to admit it, she would. "I…I want to find out everything I can about Padmé Amidala." She looked into his mask and steadied herself. "Because the Empire's records are…" Choppy, lacking, edited. "…incomplete, and—"
It was her first time declaring her maternal lineage, and it felt both bizarre and invigorating.
"And?"
"She's my mother. My…my real mother."
There was nothing for a while. No movement, no utterances, barely a breath beyond Vader's steady and methodical kssh-koshes. Then Leia twitched, sat, and ogled the plate Vader'd prepared.
She huffed. "So whaddya gonna do with me? Back home, you said you had questions. What are they?"
Vader was quiet for a moment longer. Then he leaned forward—close, too close—and asked, "Where is she?"
Leia stared.
Was he…joking?
He didn't do or say anything when she gave him an odd look, but he had to be joking because Padmé Amidala's current whereabouts were available for the whole curious galaxy to see in the Empire's public database; she hadn't moved for nearly a decade, because—
"She's in a mausoleum on Naboo."
Vader pointed. "Do not spew lies, youngling. You will tell me the truth. All of it."
"But—"
But that was the truth. At least, according to the brief overview of Naboo she'd covered in class and the holodocs she'd read the night before.
And if those were fibs…
Well.
Somebody had some explaining to do. Lots of it.
"I don't know what you want me to say," Leia said. "The mausoleum—that's all I know."
Vader didn't back away or lower his finger. Instead, four other digits spread out and hovered near her head. Then he did something that felt strangely…invasive and said, "That is all you know."
Leia shrunk away from his glove; it felt claustrophobic and weird, and she didn't like it. "I told you—"
"So where did you come from?"
Again—was he joking? Because she came from the same place all children came from—
"From…my mother."
Vader wasn't appeased. "Yes. But how?"
Leia scowled.
If he was going to keep questioning the very foundations of procreation, she'd explain. Slowly.
"Alright. So it starts with a male and a female—"
"Stop."
"And I asked Mom once, and she said they don't have to love each other, but claimed it was more common that way—"
"Enough."
"So the male usually has a…thing of sorts, but it varies on the species, and he—"
"Silence."
Leia quieted, but only did so because she heard a loud crack.
She located the source—a crystal globe holding an amber-colored liquid—before it completely shattered and drenched the table.
Slivers of glass should've littered every elaborate dish nearby, but they didn't. Instead, they hung in midair, still and unnatural, and Leia lurched backward, both bewildered and terrified, because—
Was that another Dark trick?
Probably, because the slivers suddenly swept out and down, then disappeared underneath the table, far, far away.
Leia frowned.
So. Vader's space wizard powers…
He could walk through halls without people noticing; mercilessly grab things without actually touching them; levitate whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted (including her and Artoo); get information out of people through unintended spurts and weird hand gestures; and break anything he pleased, without being close.
That was—
"The briefest glimpse of my power."
Leia added telepathy to her list, and shifted her frown into a scowl.
"All I want," she said in a slow huff, "is information about my biological mother."
Vader shifted. "I did not realize the holonet eliminated her biography."
"It didn't," she snapped. "And I've read it. Twice. But it doesn't tell me what I want to know."
Leia couldn't see it behind his red-tinted lenses, but she could feel his glare. Again. "Everything you need to know is public knowledge."
"But it's not," she argued as she ducked her head and wrung her tunic with two shaking hands. "Her biography just says what she did, and…and I want to know who she was. Ya know…the person beyond the queen and senator."
Vader said nothing while he retreated to the viewport. He widened his stance, crossed his arms, and stared at the stars. "You could've gotten that information from Organa."
Could she have gotten that information from her father? She very much doubted it, because—
"If he wanted to tell me, he would've by now." She dropped her tunic and looked at Vader's cape. "Right?"
Vader's respirator rasped for three complete cycles until, "So you boarded my shuttle with the expectation that I could give you the details you seek."
"I…um…guess?" It sounded more like a question than an answer, and Leia shook her head. "Yes? Maybe? I don't know. It's just…"
Vader turned, and somehow, Leia could tell he was intrigued. It must've been another Dark trick, and she added it to her list.
"It's just…" she paused again. "You seemed so—" Desperate, frantic, anxious for even the smallest connection; and if Leia said any of that, she had a feeling she'd see a wrath akin to what her father'd received. So instead, "—interested in finding a connection to her."
She bit her lip. "Like your quest was…personal. Like you knew her. Like…more than somebody usually would. And I thought… I thought you did, so—" She spread her arms. "Here I am."
"Yes." Even though Vader's vocorder didn't have the ability to change its tone, he sounded…amused. "Here you are."
"So." Leia pushed out her chair…and it pushed itself back in. She let out an annoyed breath, tried again, received the same result, and gave up. She frowned. "Did you? Did you know my mother?"
Vader took a series of steps, stooped overtop her, and—
The door whooshed opened, and a man ran inside and bowed. "Lord Vader! I—"
"Mister Piett!" Leia squirmed in her chair that refused to budge, then wrenched awkwardly and painfully to the side so she could get a proper glimpse of the officer as he glanced down and paled to a deathly pallor.
Piett opened his mouth, but no words came out. Then he straightened, saluted, and gave a curt nod. "Lord Vader," he said with a strangely composed, albeit ghostly, countenance.
"Lieutenant Firmus Piett." Vader didn't revert from his stoop or direct his gaze to Piett's general direction, and Leia blinked because—
She finally knew her first bit of the Empire's silly button language.
Piett wasn't just a mister—as she should've guessed—but a lieutenant, which meant…
Well. It didn't mean much to her, because she didn't know the first thing about military ranks or their responsibilities. But if somebody asked her the duties of each royal family member on Alderaan, she could splatter four twelve-foot walls with them. Handedly.
"Explain." Vader pointed at her, and Leia swiped at his ridiculously large glove because it was doing that…invasive thing again, and she liked it about as much as she did the first time.
Which meant she very much didn't.
But Vader didn't seem to care even though he could clearly read her very loud thoughts of, Stop doing that. I don't like it. Stop doing that. It's rude. Stop doing that. It's creepy. Stop—
"She's a diplomatic envoy, sir," Piett said with that odd, professional composition.
It was what she'd told him, and it wasn't fair when Vader said, "You're a fool."
Piett's mouth didn't open to rebuke, but Leia's did. "Hey! That's—!"
Mean. She was going to say mean, but couldn't because something unseeable clamped over her mouth while Vader said, "Alderaan wouldn't send a child for any diplomatic capacity."
That's not fair. Naboo has a youth legislative program. Which she'd learned about while reading her mother's biography. How's he supposed to know which planet has young delegates or not.
Those were fair observations, but Vader didn't acknowledge them even though he was definitely listening, which she could tell…somehow. And Leia really wished she had a sliver of Vader's strange powers, because maybe she could project her thoughts into Piett's head so he'd have some sort of a valid excuse.
But Piett didn't offer an explanation, and instead remained quiet and somber. He didn't even budge when Vader's glower and glove shifted to him, which was weird. Like he was expecting something. Like he knew—
Piett made an abnormal, guttural sound, then clenched his throat with a trembling hand. Leia whipped her head around so quick, she was sure her neck could've snapped…like—
Like Piett's most definitely was.
LET HIM GO! She couldn't scream it aloud, but she could certainly scream it in her head.
Vader was still listening—he had to be—because he waved at her with the hand that wasn't committing invisible murder and forced her to look out the viewport and toward the stars; because that made what he was doing less wrong.
He didn't do anything! Stop hurting him!
Vader didn't, and Leia imagined Piett's face turning a fatal shade of blue then purple as the sound of his gasps intensified.
If anything, you should be rewarding him! He led me to you! Because that seemed to be Vader's goal all along, strangely enough. And I like him! She didn't think that would matter—because nothing else seemed to—but apparently—
It did.
Piett's struggles morphed into a fit of coughs. Then he fell forward—something Leia could hear rather than see—and sucked in one strangled wheeze. There was the clap of two palms hitting the steel floor and a variety of refreshing-sounding deep pulls of air, then—
"I do not offer second chances," Vader said, which was stupid because Piett hadn't done anything wrong. "So consider yourself lucky, Lieutenant."
If Piett wouldn't, Leia certainly would; especially when Vader released every invisible hold he had on her and allowed her to scoot out her chair.
She ran to Piett and knelt. "Are you okay?"
She went to rub soothing circles against his back like her father used to do when she wasn't feeling well, but couldn't when Piett scrambled onto his feet and stretched out his collar.
Leia could only imagine how tight his uniform probably felt.
Piett's gaze fell to her after he righted himself; he offered a half-smile and rasped, "I'm—"
BOOM! BOOM! SKEEESH!
The room shook and tilted, and Leia careened forward and backward until Piett grabbed her shoulders and steadied her.
She grabbed ahold of his arm when another series of quakes racked through the floor, then screeched, "What was that?!"
"Confirmation of Organa's treachery," Vader said with a hint of amused malice.
Leia looked at him. "What does that mean?"
Vader didn't answer, but didn't need to, because—
A trio of X-wings swamped the viewport and splattered red bolts along the grey-green deflector shield.
"Rebels?!"
It wasn't possible or necessarily a question, but Piett answered, "Yes, Princess."
"Lord Vader." Vader's chest plate was speaking, but Leia couldn't pay any attention to it. Her eyes and ears were affixed and attuned onto the viewport as an uncountable number of TIE fighters swarmed around the X-wing trio to engage.
Red and green bolts wizzed in every direction; some hit the shield, some disappeared into space, some hit the X-wing trio, and a rare few pummeled one TIE until it exploded in a red, flameless vortex.
"Woah." Leia was ripped back from the viewport she'd somehow neared and was tossed into the chair she'd abandoned. She wriggled but couldn't budge. "Hey!"
"Stay." Vader was pointing again. "Eat. Be good."
It wasn't befit a young princess, but Leia crinkled her nose and stuck out her tongue.
Vader's glove neared. "Be good."
Leia snorted. It wasn't like she had any other choice or any other place to be while a dogfight raged outside.
Vader must've read her mind—stupid, stupid space wizard powers—and lowered his hand. Then he ordered Piett to return to the station he'd abandoned, walked away, wiggled a cylinder into the door control, and left.
Leia sprang out of her chair the moment she could, then ran to the door. She jammed her hand over the control and sneered.
"Locked."
