Approximately 19 years after Palpatine's death.
Leia. Leia Organa.
The strongest and most unrelenting of all those who advocated for peace, freedom, justice, and security. The one whose stance for slavery seemingly held more opposition than that of even himself. The one who fought with all her might for equality and prosperity.
In a few years, he would hand over the throne to the young senator, for just like her, she would make a better leader than he ever did in his 19 years of Emperor.
After all, he did not enjoy ruling- it was only a position that he could take advantage of, to change the galaxy for the better. He would much rather follow in the footsteps of someone else who shared his ideals-
In which the tiny princess, the valiant senator, did.
Then, he would fight for her, slay any malevolence that she wished dead, bring every opposition in the galaxy to their knees.
He believed in her, just like how he'd placed his faith in Padme.
Even at such young an age, Organa had navigated easily through the chaotic weave of niceties that every politician seemed to adhere, brought out harrowing arguments that shook the Senate by its foundation, then charmed the roomful of politicians into agreeing with her through deliberate, influential words that seized the heart. Charismatic and manipulative, though those characteristics were used for good purposes. She was... interesting, to say the least- of those who possessed these traits, nearly all he'd ever met had used them for their own selfish needs.
If ever situated in the direst of states, (in which if it ever occured, he sincerely prayed that he would be there to protect the galaxy's new savior,) Vader swore the young lady could even rekindle hope and courage among all who have already surrendered to despair.
And the princess, despite her royal and sheltered upbringing (that was mostly by the hand of her pacifist father, Bail Organa), fared well in a fight. Quick with a blaster, light and graceful on her delicate feet- if trained properly, she would be just as fearsome in combat as she already is in the political scene.
And though she declined training in the arts of the saber, he had noticed her glee when they'd practiced blaster drills together. The thrill would shine in her darting eyes and mischievous mouth; she was willing to fight.
(Sometimes she was still like a frolicsome child. He did not mind.)
She was always ecstatic at the prospect of ending Hutts' lives. To bring justice to the slaves, who all lived arduous, pitiful slum-lives that only benefited the fat slugs and their giant pool of wealth, she was incredibly keen to learn. It was also then, when she had brought the topic up during a casual conversation, that he'd decided upon forging a relationship-or, admiration-with the quick-witted yet passionate youngster. Back then, she had been only eleven years of age.
Afterwards, to her father's tremendous disapproval, he'd sent his best bodyguards and agents to protect the seemingly defenseless child; he would always be there, her personal black shadow. Perhaps she had detected, perhaps she had not; it did not matter, for it was enough comfort knowing this flame of light, more marvelous and haunting than the angry Mustafar lava, was safe.
Like a beautiful, sleek Corellian panther, there was an audacity and, dare he say it, brutal savageness in her that made the young lady a formidable foe to all who had the wits to oppose her, despite her low height and lithe build.
(That sadistic side was, unlike a feral animal, well-contained and very rarely utilized, only showing itself during the substantially sporadic times of considerable distress. Contrary to the shadow that protected her, she hadn't lost much in her meager nineteen years of life.)
Strangely, she was born on Empire Day- the day his own child had died. But perhaps that was a coincidence; the crowning princess was rightfully of the Organa family, and the heir to the Alderaan (or, in a few years, the Galactic) throne, and he had no intention of changing such matters—not that it was of any significance, anyway.
With those lovely chestnut curls, short stature, and piercing, intelligent brown eyes, Organa looked so similar to her- almost a carbon copy in appearance, really, though nothing would ever compare to his angel. Yet they were much different in spirit- the venom-tainted Leia had never acquired Amidala's softness and tranquility. He doubted she ever would.
She was much more resembling of... Him. If Amidala was a brook of peaceful Nabooian waters, then Organa would be the fiery lava rivers of Mustafar, turbulent and inexorable, scalding away everything in its path and leaving its mark on all the places it flowed.
(There was a dauntless gleam to her eyes- the same look that a certain man had long ago. They'd called the man a hero back then, and the young lady was adorned with that title now.)
(In another galaxy, perhaps Organa would have been his and Amidala's child- but in this time, she was only a reminder of his failures, an embodiment of his aspirations.)
He had already been allowing her increased power throughout the Senate, and he held no intention of stopping, for she used this authority for noble intentions, and that as his successor, one day she would command the entire galaxy.
She was the benevolent yet, if necessary, ruthless leader that he needed. The one who preferred peace, but was willing to fight to maintain freedom, justice, and security, and all the other well-intentioned and reasonable ideals that she had. He would not stomp out her innocence, no- but the fierceness, the aggression, would be utilized, too. The warrior inside was too valuable and useful to be ignored.
But for now, he motioned the young princess with the regal braids and fatigue-plagued eyes and expensive yet simple Lashaa silk dress to sit down next to his chair, and offered some fresh fruit and a cup of Alderaanian tea (that was set aside, although it was evident that, with spending months on Coruscant, the young one was rather homesick), eager to converse about the Senate's newest topic concerning the Hutts.
Moments after she began yet another one of her remarkably vigorous speeches, the tiredness faded from those exquisite brown orbs, replaced by the glow of adrenaline and obsession and the determination to set things right.
Vader's aging heart swelled with enthusiasm and pride.
The light of the rising sun pierced through the large transparisteel window, cascading its brilliant golden rays onto young Leia's radiant face, as well as her dainty dress of angel's white.
(Despite her volatile nature, there was a purity to Organa- an invaluable purity unmatched by anyone in the galaxy but her.
This time, for this new master, he was willing to bow down and serve.)
A/N.
-Vader is unable to sense Leia's presence in the Force. I speculate she has the natural ability to hide her immense power, or else Vader would have felt her during A New Hope.
-About the lightsaber part: unlike the Jedi, he believes that one can wield the weapon well, even without the Force.
