Beyond - Legends Burn With Me [Luke/Mara; Dark Empire AU 15ABY]

Title: Burn With Me [Colloquially: The Bad Ending]
Author: vader_incarnate
Timeframe: 15 ABY (Dark Empire AU)
Characters: Black King! Luke, Mara, assorted
Genre: angst; drama; romance if you grade me on a generous curve, like undergrad freshman Physics generous; alternate universe; enemies to lovers; disaster soulmates; your honor, I love them; new OTP flavor; forced marriage; an excuse to write pointed banter with some plot sprinkled on top

Summary: A Jedi fell, a Sith rose. Five years after Byss, the man who was Luke Skywalker decided he didn't want to be alone anymore.

"I will withdraw my forces from Coruscant. I will leave Republic space unchallenged. I will abide by the boundaries you set.

"In exchange, Mara Jade will become my wife.”

Notes: The little "Dark Empire but make it explicitly L/M, and also better, and also a forced marriage AU" that I built in my Kessel Run this year kept growing, so I thought it needed its own thread.

It's posted all out of order in the thread because that's what the Kessel Run challenges will do to your nice plans but here's the reading actual order:

Prequels:
Black Pawn
Black Knight

Chapter One: The Imperial Couple
The Wedding
The Wedding Night

Chapter Two: The Court
The Ball
The Toast
The Overdue Conversation
The Handmaidens

Got all that? Hope you did, because this is incomprehensible if you're not caught up

Now we're going to finish the court arc of chapter two

---

Sabé’s expression remained perfectly composed, but the stillness in her posture betrayed her.

Luke could see it - the precise control, the measured breath, the flicker of calculation behind her dark eyes. She didn’t want to answer him.

That alone was an answer.

He didn’t press. Not yet.

Instead, he thought of the handmaidens - of the way they had moved in seamless synchronization, of the way they had become Mara with only the smallest of adjustments. Not perfectly, but close enough.

Close enough to be mistaken.

Close enough to rewrite a story.

And Sabé - Sabé had not simply served a queen. She had been one, if only in shadow.

Luke turned the thought over in his mind, letting the pieces settle into place.

"You were her handmaiden," he said, voice quiet but certain.

Sabé didn’t move, didn’t speak, but her stillness told him everything.

Luke let the silence stretch between them, turning the thought over in his mind. His father’s identity had never been a mystery - not truly. Vader’s shadow had loomed over his life the moment Ben Kenobi told him the truth. He had carried that weight, worn that legacy like a chain he had once tried to break.

But this - this was new.

His mother had been a queen of Naboo.

A ruler in her own right. A leader, a politician, a woman who had shaped the course of history before he had even drawn breath. And he had never known. No one had ever told him.

Because no one had wanted him to know.

The realization settled in his chest, cold and certain.

The Jedi had erased her. The Republic had buried her name. Even the Empire had never spoken of her, though Palpatine must have known. Of course he had known. The old monster had never left things to chance.

Luke’s hands curled against the fabric of his sleeves.

He had spent years looking at the pieces of his father’s past, dissecting every story, every failure, every choice that had led Anakin Skywalker to his fall.

But his mother?

She had always been missing from the puzzle. A ghost with no name.

Until now.

And this - this was more than enough of a starting point.

He could find the rest.

He could learn.

His golden eyes flicked back to Sabé, still studying him with careful calculation.

“Is my mother dead?” he asked.

A long pause. Then, finally -

“Yes.”

It shouldn’t have meant anything.

He had known the answer before he asked the question.

And yet -

Something inside him twisted.

Not grief. Not sorrow. Just absence.

The weight of something that had never been, something that could never be. A door that had always been closed, a question that had never been asked because he had never believed there was an answer to find.

For a breath, the disappointment lingered.

Then he exhaled, slow and even, and pushed it aside.

Unimportant. Irrelevant.

He had his answer.

And Sabé - Sabé was still watching him, like she wasn’t sure what he would do with it.

Luke held her gaze for a moment longer, then nodded once, slow and final.

"Understood.”

Sabé exhaled softly, shaking her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

Luke’s gaze sharpened. “It does to me.”

She hesitated - just for a moment, just for a breath - but it was enough.

It had been years since Luke had learned to recognize the weight of truth in the Force. The way it hung between words, in silence, in the spaces where people decided what they were willing to give.

Sabé had already given him more than she intended.

And still, she was holding something back.

Luke took a step forward, slow and deliberate. “You’ve kept this secret my entire life. Why now?”

Sabé straightened, meeting his gaze without flinching. “This was never for you.”

Luke arched a brow.

“The handmaidens,” she clarified. “This was for Mara.”

That was… not an answer, but it was something.

He tilted his head slightly, watching her, waiting. She wasn’t done.

“You were always going to find out,” Sabé continued, voice measured. “If not today, then someday. You have resources. Power. The will to tear apart the past if you choose.” Her dark eyes flicked over him, assessing. “I can’t stop you from looking.” A pause. “But I can warn you.”

Luke felt a flicker of amusement curl in his chest. “Warn me?”

Sabé’s expression didn’t shift. “If she had lived - if she had known who you became - what would she think of you?”

He stilled.

The question hit with the weight of a blade slid effortlessly between ribs. Not an accusation. A challenge.

A slow tension coiled in the air, the Force thickening, responding to the shift in him.

Sabé didn’t look away.

He could crush her, if he wanted. Unmake her in an instant.

But she knew that. And still, she stood there, offering nothing but the truth she had chosen.

Luke exhaled, slow and steady, and stepped back.

He didn’t answer her question.

Because he didn’t need to.

Sabé let the silence stretch between them. Then, softer, “You already know the answer, don’t you?”

Luke’s jaw tightened. The faintest flicker of something - disappointment, maybe, or something close to it - lingered in his chest.

He pushed it aside. It didn’t matter.

The past was already written. And the future still belonged to him.

Luke inclined his head, the motion slow, deliberate. A dismissal.

Sabé held his gaze for a moment longer, then bowed. She was almost at the door when Luke spoke again.

“I don’t need your warnings.”

Sabé glanced back. “No,” she agreed. “But you heard them anyway.” She paused for a moment in the doorframe. “You have her chin, you know.”

Luke’s breath stilled.

Her voice was quiet, matter-of-fact, but it landed like a strike to the ribs. The words settled into his bones, into something old and unexamined.

He had never known what his mother looked like. He had never thought to wonder. His father had loomed too large, a shadow that had swallowed the past whole.

But now -

Now, he could see it in Sabé’s expression. The way she looked at him, not with fear, not with reverence, but with a gaze weighed down by memory. She wasn’t looking at him. Not entirely.

Luke’s jaw tightened.

He didn’t want her memories. He didn’t need her ghosts.

His mother was dead. That was enough.

His face smoothed, his stance shifting back into something composed, unreadable. Whatever she thought she saw in him, it didn’t matter.

His voice was calm. Final. “That is all, Lady Sabé.”

Sabé studied him for a moment longer, then bowed.

“I’ll see you back in the court session,” Luke said, voice even, already turning away from her.

Sabé inclined her head. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

And then she was gone.

Luke exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders back as he turned toward the hall. The weight of the revelation settled somewhere deep, beneath layers of control and certainty, acknowledged but contained. It changed nothing. Not really.

His steps were steady as he walked, the low hum of the Eclipse thrumming beneath his boots. Soon, he would return to the hangar-turned-throne-room, to the waiting court, to Mara at his side.

Mara, who remained the singular exception to all of it.

He had reshaped himself into something unstoppable, reforged his purpose in fire and lightning and shadow, cast aside weakness in pursuit of absolute strength.

But he had chosen to keep this - this one thing, this one person, this impossible, maddening, infuriating woman who could command his attention with a glance and challenge him without fear.

And she didn’t even see it.

Luke had signed away the Core, had rewritten the fate of the Empire for her. And Mara still thought they were playing the same game.

It was idiotic.

And it was the only thing in the galaxy that was still his.

The corridors of the Eclipse stretched ahead, cold and sterile, humming with the quiet pulse of a warship at rest. Luke walked with measured purpose, each step steady, deliberate.

By the time he reached the makeshift throne room, the court had already begun to reassemble. Nobles and officers clustered in careful arrangements, servants weaving between them with hushed efficiency. The space itself remained unchanged - functional, not opulent. A repurposed warship hangar would never rival the grand halls of the old Imperial palace, no matter how much effort the attendants put into draping banners or arranging seating. The polished durasteel floor still gleamed under the overhead lighting, and the faint scent of engine oil still clung to the air.

Good. Let them remember exactly where they were.

The throne platform remained where it had been before the recess, flanked by the banner of the Empire - black and crimson, stark against the gray walls. His chair, an admiral’s seat reupholstered for the occasion, awaited him. Beside it, Mara’s makeshift throne - a conference chair hastily adorned with a fine cloak - remained unchanged.

Mara reappeared as he ascended the platform, moving with casual ease, as if she had never left.

“They’re settling in,” she murmured, just loud enough for him to hear.

Luke arched a brow.

“The handmaidens,” she clarified. “Your crew is getting them set up with their own quarters.”

Luke said nothing, only inclined his head slightly. The gesture was acknowledgment enough.

Mara took her seat first, smooth and effortless. Luke followed, settling into place with practiced ease.

Around them, the court stilled, attention returning to the throne.

Luke barely heard the first petitioner.

Words blurred together - something about disrupted trade, lawlessness on the borders, the inefficiency of Imperial oversight. The usual complaints. He knew he should be paying closer attention, but his mind was still turning over his conversation with Sabé.

A name that meant nothing to him hours ago, and yet now it coiled in the back of his mind, pulling at something long buried.

His mother had been a queen.

Luke sat on his throne, outwardly composed, but his thoughts lingered on the realization. It had changed nothing - nothing - and yet, it had settled in his chest like a weight, a missing piece he had never thought to look for. He could feel it there, an unfinished thought, an unopened door.

And of course there was Mara.

She confused him. More than anything, she confused him.

Luke understood people - had spent years dissecting them, knowing their fears, their ambitions, the precise levers that would make them break. He had broken the Hutts, outmaneuvered warlords, bent the most stubborn of Imperial holdouts to his will.

But Mara - Mara was different.

She was sharp where others dulled themselves to survive, defiant where others submitted. She could walk into a room full of nobles and handle them with effortless precision, then turn around and argue with him over something insignificant just to see if she could win.

It wasn’t just that she challenged him - it was that no one else did anymore.

He had long since passed the point where people truly opposed him. The last of the ambitious warlords had either fallen in line or been destroyed. The Moffs, the admirals, the officials who still stood before him in court - none of them dared to push too hard, to risk his displeasure.

Only Mara.

She fought him, deliberately, without fear. Not because she was reckless, but because she refused to be anything less than his equal.

And Luke, in all his power, in all his control -

He let her.

Because he wanted her to.

His gaze flicked toward her, unbidden. She sat beside him, poised and sharp, the curve of her mouth just barely edged with irritation. Court suited her in a way that it never had him. She was too good at this, at maneuvering between influence and authority, at controlling a room without effort.

That was dangerous. He should stop her. Shouldn’t he?

Luke exhaled slowly, returning his gaze to the petitioner - an aging noble with the desperate look of a man clinging to old power. He had been speaking for several minutes now, something about smugglers and economic disruption, but Luke had only been half-listening.

It wasn’t until Mara spoke that he fully snapped back into the moment.

“No.”

A single word, firm and absolute.

Luke’s focus sharpened instantly.

Mara leaned forward slightly, her voice calm but unwavering. “The Empire will not waste resources ‘cracking down’ on the Smuggler’s Alliance.”

Luke studied her, interest flaring.

The noble faltered, blinking rapidly, before forcing himself back into his prepared speech. “Your Majesty - ” he hesitated, flicking his gaze between them before settling on Luke, clearly hoping for a different answer “ - these criminals undercut loyal merchants, weaken supply lines - ”

Mara cut him off with a slow tilt of her head. “The Alliance serves its purpose.”

Luke’s lips curled slightly.

Ah.

Now this was interesting.

---

Mara had been paying attention.

The petitioner - Baron Durn, a minor noble with holdings in the Mid Rim - had been building his case for several minutes before Luke had bothered to look at him. Durn wasn’t just asking for Imperial intervention against the Smuggler’s Alliance; he was asking for Imperial-sanctioned privateering. He wanted free rein to go after them himself under the guise of serving the Empire.

Mara had shut him down immediately.

Now, she watched as Durn hesitated, flicking his gaze toward Luke, clearly hoping for a reprieve.

Luke, to his credit, didn’t look bored anymore. He was watching her now, his expression unreadable, his golden gaze considering. The moment stretched, silent and expectant.

And then - he let it stand.

Luke exhaled, slow and measured, and finally deigned to acknowledge the Baron directly.

“The Imperial Navy does not involve itself in minor, legal trade disputes,” he said, his voice smooth, even. “And I certainly wouldn’t sanction the use of force to resolve something that ought to be negotiated.”

The words were calm, dismissive, but there was an edge beneath them - a quiet reminder of exactly how little patience he had for those who wasted his time.

Durn hesitated, clearly debating whether to push his luck.

Luke arched a brow.

The Baron swallowed hard and dipped into a stiff bow. “As the Empress wills it.”

Mara watched the interaction carefully, still unsure whether Luke’s stance was a deliberate show of unity, a genuine policy stance, or simple disinterest.

Whichever it was, it worked.

And Mara exhaled, just slightly, only now realizing how closely she had been watching for Luke’s reaction.

She hadn’t been sure - not really - if he would let her protect Karrde and the others. The Smuggler’s Alliance wasn’t just some faceless entity to her; it was people. It was favors exchanged in darkened cantinas, whispered deals, trust built in a world where trust was rare. It was one of the only places that had ever felt close to belonging.

Luke had to know that.

And yet, he hadn’t questioned her decision. Hadn’t looked for an explanation, hadn’t pressed her for justification.

That, more than anything, made her uneasy.

Because she still wasn’t sure if it was calculated, if it was careless, or if - stars help her - he had done it for her.

Durn stepped back, properly cowed, and the next petitioner was already being ushered forward.

The rest of the court session passed in a blur of bureaucracy and thinly veiled posturing.

There were disputes over sector governance, pleas for Imperial intervention in minor conflicts, and the ever-present jockeying for favor. Mara handled what she could, redirecting the more tedious matters to underlings who were actually paid to deal with them. Luke remained impassive through most of it, only speaking when necessary - an occasional word or gesture that sent ripples through the assembled nobility.

By the time they were finally able to leave, Mara was more than ready to be done with the whole ordeal.

They walked in silence through the dim corridors of the Eclipse, the steady hum of the warship surrounding them. Luke’s pace was easy, unhurried, as if he hadn’t just spent hours barely tolerating the company of people he held in varying degrees of contempt.

Finally, as they entered their quarters and the doors closed behind them, he smirked. “Good job.”

Mara snorted. “Quarterly?”

Luke exhaled through his nose, half a laugh, half a sigh. “I’d do it half-yearly if I could get away with it.”

Mara huffed, shaking her head. “Coward.”

His smirk widened. “Pragmatist.”

Mara stretched her arms over her head as they walked, rolling the tension from her shoulders. “That was excruciating.”

Luke smirked, hands clasped loosely behind his back. “But you handled it well.”

Mara shot him a look. “Don’t sound so pleased. I know what you’re thinking, and the answer is no.”

His expression was the picture of innocence. “I haven’t said anything.”

“You didn’t have to.” She narrowed her eyes. “If you’re about to suggest I do this full time, I’ll start an insurrection myself.”

Luke hummed, amused. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Mara wasn’t convinced. “You absolutely would. You hate court.”

“I do.”

“Then suffer with the rest of us.”

His smirk widened. “Pragmatism, Mara. Delegation is a necessity of leadership.”

She scoffed. “Delegation is when you offload minor responsibilities, not when you dump an entire governing body on someone and disappear.”

Luke made a gesture, like shooing away an insect. “Semantics. The vipers were better behaved today than usual today, though.”

Mara snorted. “Because if they didn't behave they’d be dead.”

Luke sighed, deeply put-upon. “I don’t kill everyone who annoys me.”

“Just the ones who do it for too long?”

His golden eyes glinted. “Exactly.” Luke exhaled through his nose, something between amusement and resignation. “A shame I can’t cut the session down to once a year.”

Mara smirked. “Coward,” she said again.

He hummed in response, but didn’t argue. Instead, he undid one of his cuffs, rolling it back slightly before frowning and rebuttoning it.

Mara didn’t think much of it at first.

Then he did it again.

She watched, half-distracted, as his fingers worked the fastenings with idle precision. It wasn’t nervous energy - Luke didn’t get nervous - but it was something. A tell, maybe, though she wasn’t sure for what.

Still, he hated court enough that she was willing to prod.

“You hate these,” she said, tilting her head. “What’s the worst part of them?”

Luke didn’t answer immediately. His fingers stilled on the cuff, then resumed their slow, deliberate work - unbuttoning, smoothing the fabric, fastening it again.

Mara waited, watching him.

Finally, he exhaled, a quiet, measured sound. “The pretense.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Everything about court is pretense.”

“Exactly.” He flexed his fingers, rolling his shoulders as if shaking something off. “Every word spoken is a maneuver. Every expression calculated. Every request, every complaint, a game of positioning.” He shook his head slightly. “And none of them ever say what they actually mean.”

Mara huffed a quiet laugh. “You just described ninety percent of Imperial politics.”

Luke smirked faintly. “I know.”

“Seems like you’d be used to it by now.”

“I am.” He tilted his head, considering. “But in war, when someone moves against you, at least they move. This?” He gestured vaguely, as if encompassing the entire court session. “This is slower. More tedious. The same battles, just stretched over months, years.”

Mara hummed. “You prefer an enemy you can shoot.”

Luke smiled - small, sharp. “Something like that.”

She studied him for a moment. “And yet, you let me handle half of it today.”

His gaze flicked to her, unreadable. “I did.”

Luke held her gaze, the weight of it settling between them. Then, smoothly, almost offhand -

“And you’re protecting the Smuggler’s Alliance.”

Mara’s arms crossed before she could stop herself, but her expression remained carefully neutral.

Luke’s smirk deepened, just slightly. “Keeping an escape route open?”

Mara didn’t answer him.

Because, if she was being honest with herself - yes. Maybe she was.

The Smuggler’s Alliance was more than just a tangled network of opportunists and traders. It was hers, in a way. Not by ownership, not by control, but by history. By familiarity.

It was one of the few places in the galaxy where she had once belonged, even if only in the loose, pragmatic way smugglers formed allegiances. Karrde had given her a place when she had needed one. The Alliance had given her connections, freedom, a life beyond the wreckage the Empire had left behind.

And now?

Now she was Empress.

Mara exhaled slowly through her nose, keeping her expression neutral. Keeping an escape route open. Was that what she was doing? Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe she just didn’t see the point in cracking down on a network that functioned best when left alone.

Or maybe Luke had seen something in her decision that she hadn’t yet admitted to herself.

Her gaze flicked down to his hands. He was rolling back his sleeves now, pushing the fabric up his forearms, the last of the fastenings undone.

And Mara, again, started to wonder why he kept doing that.

It wasn’t nervous energy. Not a tic, not a habit. It was deliberate.

But before she could put the thought into words, Luke finally glanced at her sidelong, voice dry but unmistakably pointed.

“I’m waiting for you to leave so I can get undressed.”

A beat. Then, slower, smoother -

“Unless you’re planning to stay?”

Luke smirked - just enough to make it clear. It wasn’t just a statement. It wasn’t just practicality.

It was an invitation.

Mara froze for half a second, her mind catching up to a realization that should have been painfully obvious. Stars, I should have seen that coming. She had watched him fiddle with his cuffs, had noted the restless motion, had wondered - why does he keep doing that?

She mentally slapped herself, schooling her expression into something unreadable before he could see the flicker of delayed realization cross her face.

But Luke saw something. Or maybe he just saw her hesitation and took it as encouragement.

Because his smirk deepened, and instead of dismissing her, instead of looking away, he held her gaze and pushed.

Slowly, smoothly, he reached for the hem of his tunic.

And pulled it over his head.

Mara did not allow her gaze to linger.

But for half a heartbeat - just half - she took note of what she saw.

He was built like a storm held in restraint, every line of him honed for power. Not the sculpted vanity of a nobleman, nor the brute strength of an enforcer, but something sharper, deliberate. A body carved by war, by discipline, by an unrelenting drive toward strength and control.

Not that it mattered.

She did not flush.

She turned on her heel, movements crisp and assured, and strode toward the door without hesitation.

“Goodnight, Skywalker,” she said, voice even and composed.

The door hissed shut behind her.

But just before it sealed completely, she caught the sound of a low chuckle. And then, through the metal, his voice - smooth, deliberate, and edged with quiet amusement:

“Goodnight, wife.”

TBC

 

Chapter Three:

One month later.

The landing on Naboo was uneventful.

Diplomatic proceedings were not.

Mara had been prepared for the usual layers of formality, the expected courtesies wrapped around quiet power plays, the way officials gauged Luke’s every word and movement, still trying to determine what kind of ruler he truly was.

She hadn’t been prepared for the weight of the place itself.

Because this was Palpatine’s homeworld.

And the moment they stepped into the grand halls of Theed, she felt the history pressing down on them - the unspoken, unanswered question lingering in the air.

Was the son of Vader here as a conqueror? Or as something else entirely?

Luke, for his part, was impenetrable. He moved through the formalities with quiet ease, his voice measured, his presence unshaken. He acknowledged the concerns of the Nabooan queen and council, let them speak of trade agreements, security measures, the long-fraught relationship between their world and the Empire.

Then, when all was said and done, he turned to Mara, smirking just slightly.

"Now that the work is out of the way, care to join me for a real date?"

Mara arched a brow. “I don’t suppose this will involve anything remotely romantic.”

Luke’s smirk deepened.

"That depends on how you feel about archaeology."

He didn’t elaborate right away, just offered his arm with that infuriatingly calm certainty of his, as if she’d agree no matter what he had planned.

And - of course - she did.

Because he was up to something. And if there was one thing more dangerous than Luke Skywalker making war, it was Luke Skywalker getting creative.

They exited the grand hall, boots clicking against polished stone, sunlight pouring through the colonnade ahead - only to find the corridor already occupied.

Because the moment the imperial couple had stepped away from the official proceedings, the handmaidens had been ready - and now, they descended.

Siridé appeared first, brisk and in command, and pressed a datapad into Mara’s hand - a curated itinerary of lakeside promenades, scenic overlooks, garden arcades, and historic ruins dressed up in the language of romance. It read like someone had ransacked a tourism bureau for couples too powerful to admit they were together.

Veré followed with the clothes. Of course their usual black was unacceptable; no one on Naboo wore monochrome black and doing so would immediately mark them as imperials. Veré had made that very clear, with a look that suggested it would additionally and irreparably offend her personal aesthetic sensibilities. Instead, she produced attire tailored for incognito nobility:

Mara’s dress was deep burgundy, heavy with movement and cut for ease. Gold embroidery threaded the cuffs and hem, subtle and intricate. The skirts were full enough to conceal a pair of thigh holsters, and the bodice laced in a way that let her move, fight, or - if it came to that - run.

Luke’s ensemble was less fortunate. A rich steel-blue tunic with slate-threaded detailing and a soft-draped sash crossed one shoulder, fastened with filigree buttons he kept eyeing like they were plotting against him. His trousers were fitted, his boots unscuffed, and his cloak just flamboyant enough to make him twitch: lined with gold that only showed when in movement, in a way that caught the color of his eyes and looked ... almost nice.

Lisé, radiant with mischief, flitted around them with barely disguised glee. “Take your time,” she said, and somehow made it sound like a dare. “We’ll make sure no one disturbs you.”

Mara opened her mouth to protest -

And found herself promptly shooed out the door.

Luke, infuriatingly entertained, didn’t fight it at all.

Mara, resigned, sighed and followed.

---

Luke adjusted the fall of his sash for the third time in two minutes as they made their way down the garden path, winding through the outskirts of Theed toward the speeder arranged for them. The late afternoon sun filtered through hanging blossoms, birds trilled somewhere overhead, and Naboo continued to look like a postcard-perfect lie.

In the Force, Mara could feel him bristling.

Not overtly. Not enough that anyone around them would notice a thing. To the casual observer, he was the picture of calm - composed, elegant, perfectly imperial even in civilian finery.

But beneath the surface, where Mara could sense everything, his presence was spiky. Uneven. Tense.

It scraped like sandpaper just under her skin, little static bursts of discomfort threading through the usual lacquered smoothness of his composure.

She hid her smirk.

Luke didn’t hate the cut or the sash or even the softness of the fabric.

He just hated not wearing black.

He exhaled sharply, tone dry. “I don’t have a good place to clip my lightsaber.”

Mara didn’t even glance at him. “That’s the opposite of incognito, Caelus.”

He shot her a look. “You’re armed.”

“Of course I’m armed,” she returned, as if that was the most obvious thing in the world.

Luke narrowed his eyes. “Where?”

Without slowing her pace, Mara reached down and lifted the hem of her skirt just enough to reveal the hilt carefully tucked into a black holster strapped to her outer thigh. The fabric fell again a second later, graceful and practiced. No one around them even blinked.

Luke blinked.

Mara smirked. “You’re not the only one who likes options.”

He looked down at his sash again, expression flat. Then, drier than Tatooine: “Can we switch outfits?”

Mara snorted. “You don't have the legs for it.”

Luke gave her a sidelong glance, a slow, knowing smirk tugging at his mouth. “I most certainly do.”

She didn’t doubt it, but she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of admitting that. Instead, she arched a brow, refocusing the conversation on the topic at hand. “So where is your lightsaber, then?”

Luke glanced down at the picnic basket tucked into the crook of his arm. It was an elegant, woven thing, clearly curated by some overeager palace aide. He shifted it slightly, the handle creaking under the weight.

He paused meaningfully.

Mara narrowed her eyes. “You didn’t.”

Luke looked utterly unrepentant. “I did.”

She stopped walking. “It’s in the basket?”

He nodded. “Wrapped in linen, under the cured nerf sausage and whatever that soft cheese was they insisted I bring.”

There was a long silence.

Mara stared at him.

“You buried your lightsaber in a basket under snacks.”

He raised a brow. “You hid yours under your skirt.”

“Mine’s accessible.”

Luke glanced down at the basket, shifting it again like he was reconsidering his life choices. “The cheese is very soft,” he offered.

Mara sighed and turned away, resuming her stride. “This date’s going to end with me saving your life, isn’t it?”

Luke smirked and followed. “That sounds more than perfect.”

They walked in companionable silence for a stretch, the sun filtering through the canopy above in fractured gold. The path curved alongside a quiet stream, the kind that shimmered with lily-pads and lazy silver fish, and everything smelled like flowers and fresh water and warm stone.

The Force here was thick with life, vibrant and unshielded. It pulsed beneath her feet, threaded through the trees, shimmered across the water. Naboo didn’t just exist: it sang, a world so alive it almost ached. It was beauty layered over intention, over centuries of cultivation, but the wildness was still there, just beneath the surface - waiting, watching.

Mara glanced around, taking it all in: the sculpted walkways, the gardens bursting with controlled wildness, the clean, perfumed air.

“It's pretty,” she said finally, not bothering to hide the note of surprise in her voice. “Almost enough to make a person think about retiring here.”

Luke let out a soft breath that might’ve been a laugh. “I’m a desert boy, Mara. I can’t handle the humidity.”

She smirked. “You’re sweating through diplomacy, Skywalker. Tragic.”

But his smile faded, just a little, his gaze sweeping the idyllic landscape with a colder edge.

“This world bred Sidious,” he said, voice lower. “It wore the same softness. The same beauty. A pretty facade over a rotten core.”

Mara’s smirk faded with it.

Luke continued, quieter now, but steady. “Just like the New Republic. Just like the Old one before it. Painted peace over decay.”

He looked at her then, something dark and certain in his eyes. “You know how I feel about that.”

Mara gave him a sidelong glance, eyebrow arched in something halfway between curiosity and challenge.

“So your thesis,” she said dryly, “is that your Empire is better than the New Republic because ... you don’t try to be better? Or pretend to be?”

Luke didn’t look at her. He reached down instead, tugging idly at the sleeve of his ridiculous fine tunic, straightening a crease that didn’t need straightening.

“A tyrant in pretty wrapping is still a tyrant,” he said, voice even. “I strive to be honest about it.” youThen he glanced at her, gold eyes catching hers with sharp clarity. “But - ”

He looked away again, toward the distant gleam of palace rooftops over the trees.

“I liberated the Outer Rim,” he continued, calm and precise. “Smashed the Hutt cartels. Broke the slave trade. All in less than a decade.”

Mara didn’t interrupt. She just listened.

“And the New Republic?” he said, almost to himself. “In the same time, they debated. Argued. Formed committees. Made statements. Drafted proposals.”

He looked back at her, one brow lifting with deliberate coolness.

“You can’t argue with the efficiency.”

Mara didn’t respond right away. She let the breeze stir between them, soft and floral, watched the way Luke’s gaze tracked the rooftops beyond the tree line - like he was already half gone, speaking from some distant throne rather than the winding garden path beneath their feet.

Then, cool and precise:

“How many people did you kill to get that efficiency, Skywalker?”

His gaze flicked to hers, sharp, unreadable.

“I mean it,” she said, quieter now. “How many?”

He didn’t answer. Not immediately.

And maybe that was the answer.

Mara folded her arms across her chest, her voice low, less edged but no less clear. “I spent most of my life serving a man who believed the same thing. Palpatine didn’t need to debate. Didn’t need to argue. He acted. Or sent me to act for him.”

Luke’s expression didn’t shift, but something in the air between them pulled tight.

“He was efficient,” Mara continued, matter-of-fact. “He was precise. And he burned half the galaxy to the ground for the sake of that control.”

She looked at him then - really looked at him.

“I know you’re not him.” A pause. “But sometimes I think you forget how close it is.”

Luke was silent.

And even before she turned her head, Mara felt it.

Not in his expression - his face remained perfectly still - but in the Force, where his presence shifted, cooled. Not a flare of anger. Not the sharp spike of warning or readiness.

Just a slow drop, subtle and deliberate, like the air around them had gone a few degrees colder despite the warm Naboo sun still shining overhead.

It wasn’t a threat. Not yet.

But it was the kind of stillness that came before a storm.

“Excuse me.”

The voice was soft, tentative, unfamiliar.

Both of them turned.

A young man stood a few paces off the path, dressed in the quiet finery of a local, hands clasped in front of him in an effort at politeness that didn’t quite hide the nerves. His gaze was locked on Luke, wide-eyed and uncertain.

“Are you ... him?” the man asked. “The Emperor?”

Mara didn’t even blink. “He gets that question a lot. The resemblance is uncanny, isn't it?”

Luke didn’t move, didn’t change expression. Just tilted his head, calm and unreadable. But beneath the surface Mara felt his shift.

That cold pressure that had settled over him loosened, just slightly. The sharp, compressed tension that had coiled around him moments before now smoothed out at the edges, diffused by the intrusion.

The interruption didn’t amuse him, not exactly. But it cut through something, pulled him back into himself, reminded him of where they were and how they were seen.

His Force presence relaxed, not quite warm, but no longer razor-edged.

“I am,” Luke said mildly.

The young man swallowed, his eyes growing even wider, like he wasn’t entirely sure whether to bow or run.

“I - I didn’t mean to intrude, Your Majesty,” he said quickly. “Only, I wasn’t sure, and I’ve never - ”

“It’s quite alright,” Luke said, his tone even, gently dismissive in that careful way he had.

The young man bowed awkwardly and excused himself, vanishing back toward the village path like he’d stepped into a myth and only barely escaped intact.

When he was gone, Mara arched a brow. “You do realize you’re dressed like a very fashionable civil servant, right?”

Luke let out a short laugh, still watching the path where the young man had disappeared. “What's an Emperor if not a particularly powerful public servant? Besides - I wore blue. What more can I do? Not my fault I have a recognizable face.”

Mara didn’t miss a beat. “Entirely your fault.”

He turned his head just enough to give her a look. “I’ll wear a mask next time we’re incognito.”

She sipped from her canteen - water, regrettably, not wine - and raised an eyebrow. “But not some Sith death helm, right?”

Luke smirked. “You’re so picky when I’m just trying to be accommodating.”

Mara gave him a look of her own. “A little mystery is fine. A respirator with vocal distortion and glowing red eyes is overkill.”

“I’ll make a note.” He shifted the basket in his arm. “Something understated. Matte finish. Subtle menace.”

She snorted. “You’re just describing yourself.”

Luke tilted his head, gold eyes glinting. “Then maybe I don’t need the mask after all.”

“Stars,” she muttered. “What have I gotten myself into.”

He offered her his arm, maddeningly pleased.

The speeder waited just ahead, nestled beneath the shade of flowering trees, its sleek silver curves catching the late sun like it belonged in a holodrama.

As they approached, Luke slowed, his voice shifting into something quieter, more thoughtful. “You know your handmaidens?” he said.

Mara glanced at him, wary. “Vaguely familiar with them, yes.”

“On the surface, it’s a nice little tradition, right? Elegant. Symbolic. A handful of devoted girls chosen to serve and protect the adolescent queens of Naboo. Picture-perfect loyalty.”

Mara arched a brow. “You’re building to something.”

“They started doing that because the noble families kept assassinating the queen.” His tone didn’t change, but something colder moved beneath the words. “The crown’s elected, sure. Very democratic. But once your daughter’s on the throne, she’s one decree away from rewriting succession law.”

Mara frowned. “Efficient.”

“Brutal,” Luke agreed. “But clever. And someone - probably someone cornered, with enemies breathing down her neck - had a better idea. Make it mandatory for noble houses to send their daughters to court. High-born hostages. Taught to fight. Taught to serve. Trained so thoroughly they could mirror the queen’s mannerisms, her speech patterns, her walk. Enough that, when the knives came, no one could be sure who they were killing.”

A silence stretched between them, thick with the memory of ancient blood.

Luke’s gaze stayed fixed ahead. “If you’re a noble with power-hungry ambitions, are you willing to risk murdering your own daughter to eliminate a rival? Are you that certain she’s not the one wearing the crown that day?”

Mara said nothing, but the weight of it settled in her mind like fog: quiet, seeping, hard to shake.

“Eventually,” Luke continued, almost absently, “someone rebranded it to handmaidens. Gilded the blade. Made it look like tradition instead of a political hostage taking. Whoever it was had good PR instincts - propaganda by another name. Wrap it in silk and ceremony, and no one notices the blood underneath.”

“That sounds ... a little too on the nose.”

Luke finally looked at her, golden eyes steady. “Naboo’s good at looking gentle while sharpening knives behind the curtain.”

She exhaled. “So. A pretty facade over a rotten core.”

His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Exactly.”

They reached the speeder at last, the soft hum of its engines barely audible beneath the rustle of trees overhead. Luke set the picnic basket in the back and climbed into the pilot’s seat with the ease of someone who’d always preferred the controls in his own hands.

Mara slid into the passenger side, skirts settling around her, already reaching for the harness.

As the canopy lowered with a quiet hiss, Luke flicked a few switches and said, offhandedly, “You see how a world like this could’ve bred a Sith Lord.”

Mara arched a brow, amused. “Didn’t expect you to be a scholar of medieval Naboo history.”

“I’m full of surprises,” Luke replied, mouth curling into a faint smirk. “And I’ve been researching.”

“That have anything to do with our field trip?”

Luke didn’t answer immediately. He guided the speeder out of the shaded grove and onto the winding, sun-dappled road beyond, the landscape opening up around them in soft waves of green and gold.

Beside her, he went still; not physically, not entirely, but in that way he had when his thoughts slipped somewhere deeper, older.

In the Force, his presence narrowed to a single thread, drawn taut with focus. The lingering sandpaper of his wardrobe discomfort from earlier smoothed, replaced by something cooler, quieter: contemplation edged with gravity.

He wasn't retreating. He was remembering. Or searching. And whatever he was turning over in his mind, it mattered.

Then, quietly: “We’re going to the Naberrie family crypt.”

Mara blinked, straightening.

“My ancestors,” he elaborated. “On my mother’s side.”

A beat. “So I guess this world bred two Sith Lords.”


TBC

 

Even the title, aaaaahhhhhhhh

Just chapter two feedback for now in an attempt to not fall terribly more than I already am behind

LOLLL

AAAAHHHHH BUT FOREVER

WELP, now I'm thinking of poor Cordé. But such good descriptive writing

I really love that Sabé is in this story, and gives us this connecting information

More excellent description for the tangle of feelings he'd have here, but it's also such a good way to demonstrate that this isn't the Luke we knew pre-DE, who would never have labeled any knowledge of his mother as "unimportant" or "irrelevant"

"the weight of truth", "the way it hung between words", "in the spaces where people decided what they were willing to give" - *chef kiss*

Aw yeah Sabé, you tell him

but omigosh if Padmé did know

I just love that Mara always is this fascinating to him, although the angle of fascination changes with the context of who he is in any given story, and I love that he gave away the Core to marry a woman he describes this way It's like there's a spark of the original Luke still in there somewhere - not love, exactly, at least not yet, but a desire for something real and genuine, and he knows that Mara will never be anything else with him.

lol the Court has to hate this so much

I still love these thrones. Luke's, at least, is perfectly in character for this story, but Mara's cracks me up

Look at her playing this role so well even though she hates it

THAT'S MY GIRL :mara:

"She was sharp where others dulled themselves to survive, defiant where others submitted" - so good, Elli

Mara grew up being taught to play this game, after all

I love this so much

She doesn't look to Luke, she doesn't ask for his verdict, she doesn't make a case. She takes the full authority of the position he wanted for her and she uses it to accomplish her own ends right in front of him and puts him in the place of either having to back her up or fracture their seemingly united front; it's a masterful move, and she knows that even if he does back her up, she could pay for it in private - and she does it anyway, without a sliver of doubt or unease, without even a hairline crack in her absolute authority. She's so good at this

Mara and her authoritative defiance are so much more interesting than the groveling court

I love this, I love that he lets everyone hang for that long moment, and that Mara doesn't back down, and that he does back her up, and even that he lets it be seen to the court that Mara had absolutely taken the initiative here, that he was very well aware that he could override her, and he still chose to reinforce her authority over them, I just love it all

Yeah, that last is a bit unnerving in this whole forced marriage context, isn't it

So basically, she steps right into the dutiful and helpful wife role, and he sits back and lets her I feel like this works so well on a number of levels: Mara's a natural at handling the Imperial Court; she has such a sense of duty, whatever her job is, she's going to do it well, even if that job is Empress; to the extent that Luke wanted someone to shoulder all this official weight along with him, she's certainly doing that; and to whatever extent his personal affection and esteem for her goes, he's clearly enjoying watching her work

THE BANTER, IT IS SUBLIME

You know what, however much I ship these two, I do not believe that they'd genuinely love each other in every reality. I do believe that they'd always have their inherent chemistry, and that might manifest itself in different ways depending on the universe in which they find themselves. And I think it would pretty much always lead to this sort of exchange, one way or another. In one reality it might be banter and in another it might be antagonistic sniping at each other, but I feel like they'd always find themselves in this sort of situation.

Elli, A+ banter, no notes, extra gold stars

*slaps gold stars all over story*

I love this because I feel that Mara's time with Karrde is so often emphasized over her time as Emperor's Hand within the fandom, and that fandom also tends to put more weight on the field work part of her Emperor's Hand duties, and between all of that it sometimes gets forgotten that Mara had multiple identities within the Imperial Court and did undercover work among the Empire's highest social elite and she knows that world very well. The reality here is that Luke has only been Emperor and actually dealing with all this ongoing nonsense for a few years, and Mara, who has been familiar with it nearly from her cradle, is rolling her eyes at the n00b

I laughed out loud

I mean, yeah, I don't want Mara pressured or cornered in any way, but since Luke has pretty well established that he's not going to force her into anything and simply isn't above needling her, Imma enjoy the UST It's all so good, Elli, I am so pleased