Anger welled up inside Leia's chest, sheer overwhelming fury. Han's screams filled her ears, cracking open her chest and rending her heart in two. Goddess only knew what they were doing to Chewie.

She had always been told hate was an ugly thing and maybe it was. But so was torture. So was mass genocide. She figured her hatred was well deserved.

"Nothing smart to say now, Your Highness?" Vader said, taking a step closer.

Her chest rose and fell as her hands shook and blood pounded in her ears but she stayed resolutely silent. He hadn't even asked her for any information this time; he'd just hauled her in to watch Han's torture. She wanted to scream. She wanted to beg. She wanted to cry. But nothing she did would make Vader to stop. He hurt people simply because he could.

"No, because you know that you're truly worthless. You have no power, only a title. And titles are nothing in comparison to the power of the Dark Side." She didn't need to see his face to sense his superiority. It was in his tone—in the way he seemed to grow a little taller every time Han cried out, his shoulders becoming a little squarer. He was practically preening.

Her whole body vibrated with rage. He was right, no matter how desperately she wished otherwise. She raised her chin, staring at him unflinchingly as she held tight to her anger. That feeling she so often forced down and made smaller lest it consume her and cloud her judgement. But now she held onto it like a lifeline, let it curl through her veins and seep into every cell of her being.

She allowed herself to think the one thought she never allowed herself to wish for.

I wish I had your powers. You're lucky I don't; I would absolutely destroy you. And oh, wouldn't it feel so good to make him suffer? Make him choke for air and claw at his throat. Let him feel what it's like to have someone rip through every corner and crevice of his mind. Have him writhing in pain at her feet before his body went limp. To know what it's like to have someone use his worst fears and deepest insecurities against him. Yes. I wish I had powers to match my rage.

I would gladly decimate you.

Vader tilted his head, as though he were listening intently. Maybe he could hear her. She really didn't give a damn one way or another. "H–" His speech was quickly cut off. Vader clawed at his mask, making an odd choking sound. His respirator continued to hiss but it was...different. Was it malfunctioning? Her lips twitched with a sick sort of satisfaction at the thought. Oh, what a beautiful irony, to be killed by the very thing meant to keep you alive.

He gurgled and flung out a hand towards her. She felt like a rag doll as she was flung through the air. Her head connected with the wall behind her with a sickening thunk. The very very air was knocked out of her lungs before an invisible fist closed around her throat. It felt like her skull was going to disconnect from her spine as her feet dangled a meter off the floor.

Leia fought to keep her eyes open as she continued to glare at Vader, her legs beginning to thrash. Electricity seemed to arc through the air, flashing bright and blue.

Or maybe she was just imagining that—black spots danced around the edge of her vision. She just barely registered feeling weightless once more, a flare of pain as her body made contact with the floor, and then her world went black.