Saga Sins of the Fathers--OT AU of Vader prosecuting a different Organa--updated 12/3

Ooh, this is a good one. I like them having a plan, now. And Vader? She's an Organa in spirit and mind. And she's awesome.

 

Interesting... and I will have to re-read, as this is very nuanced. I love it. (Could you finish re-posting Lest Ye Be Judged to FFN or re-post it here?)

 

I echo that request.

 

I will finish reposting. And I'm on vacation this week and may do another post. Particularly since kateydidnt and I worked out something very particular that made rk_striker_jk_5 say "Damn." And being the brilliant author that I am, I discovered last night that I set up a major plot point in a comment two posts ago, but I just decided on that plot point last night. I'm just that good.

 

I will confirm that 'damn'.

 

I went on a pilgrimage to Grauman's, where ANH premiered, and was so inspired by the Carrie Fisher shrine that I took my laptop to a cafe there and wrote half a scene for the next post.

 

@DarthIshtar -- that gave me happy chills. What a memorable experience and an inspiring location.

 

It also helps that the shrine was ten feet away from the Vader suit on display.

 

Author's note: I didn't stay away as long this time! This post resurrects my favorite Imperial character from the radio dramas and is 5000+ words long. I'm going to be sitting down tomorrow and diagramming the rest of this story to get to the ending that needs to lead into the very urgently-needed (in my brain) sequel. Enjoy!
*
There were many demands on Leia’s time. In addition to the perfectly ordinary Council meetings that were mandated by centuries of tradition, she refused to cancel the audiences that had been scheduled long before Father’s capture. Royal favors were formal and a bit old-fashioned, but they were treated with the utmost respect by those who were truly in need. For those who were on Alderaan for political purposes, not personal, she delegated it to various members of the Court.

She knew from previous experience that Father had privately mandated that Alderaan’s culture be unimpeded by Imperial circumstances and publicly exhorted his subjects to continue holding Alderaanian cultural events to the highest standards. He had famously attended a performance of the Royal Ballet Company during the last Senatorial elections and emerged to tell the press that he was grateful to be re-elected and had enjoyed the production immensely. Some had seen it as arrogance, others as an amusing devotion to refinement. A few remarked that Chancellor Palpatine had gone to a production of the same ballet in the last days of the Republic, though most agreed that comparing the stalwart Republicist Organa with the totalitarian Palpatine was absurd.

She accepted the invitation to the Antibes Symphony on the same day that sub poenas were issued to many of the Viceroy’s staff, but chose to attend alone, eschewing the comfort of friends or the support of staff. She was not reclusive—she welcomed Thane Mekthama for a few moments of private conversation about the refugee colonies and thanked Michel from the speechwriting staff for his assistance with recent remarks—but she left the chair usually occupied by her father empty.

Two minutes after the intermission had begun, the point guard entered and bowed formally with an uncharacteristically nervous expression. “Your Highness,” he greeted, “if you are willing to speak to him, Lord Tion has requested a moment.”

She immediately understood his pinched expression as Tion rarely called to exchange pleasantries. He was “If he would like me to take his call, I will be honored to speak to Lord Tion. I believe that it will be too late for me to comm after the performance, but I will await his call any time after 0800 tomorrow.”

“Your Highness.” Lyr was too practiced a guardsman to glance anxiously over his shoulder, but his expression remained unchanged. “Lord Tion is in attendance at the concert and has requested a moment of your time.”

The bottom dropped out of her stomach, but she was still in view of the rest of the hall, so Leia nodded imperiously. “Show him in, Guardsman.”

Tion was almost casual in his dress, having left the formal court robes on Imperial Center, but no one who followed the holonews would fail to recognize him. He was sallow and imposing, even when he wore understated black robes with embroidery on the cuffs and collar.

“Your Highness.” He bowed, more out of respect for etiquette than regard for his host. “Thank you for granting me the honor of an audience.”

Under normal circumstances, Commodore Tion felt comfortable kissing her hand or caressing her shoulder as though she were nothing more than a lovely specimen at his disposal. For the sake of good relations, Leia endured it without reciprocating the intrusion, but this was a different sort of encounter. She hardly missed the self-assured forwardness, but it set a tone that immediately left Leia feeling discomfited.

“It is my honor to receive you,” Leia lied. “I am surprised to find you so far from home.”

His mouth stretched slightly, but the eyes remained cold. “Wherever the benevolent rule of the Emperor holds sway, I am at home.”

In other words, you believe that you should be as coddled and flattered on a Core World as at the Imperial Palace or on your own capital ship.

“What brings you to Alderaan, then?” This was not a throne-room audience where the world would bear witness to her courtesies and the words they exchanged would be transcribed for history. She could afford to speak a little more plainly. “Surely, you did not leave the line of duty to enjoy our woodwind section.”

“Duty brings me here,” he pointed out. “As a friend and associate of the Royal House of Alderaan, I am honor-bound to concern myself with the well-being of its members. And it is at your father’s invitation that I am here.”

She recalled that Father had once responded to one of Tion’s discourses on the Tarkin Doctrine with a challenge: “I am sure that you believe the greatest tool at the Empire’s disposal is rule of force, but if you came to Alderaan, we would be able to show you what marvels may be accomplished without something so heavy-handed as a firing squad.”

“And you are, of course, welcome to enjoy the beauties of our world and the peaceable intentions of our people.”

“Fine words in this time of turmoil.”

The words were mild and might have sounded sympathetic under different circumstances; Leia kept her expression neutral and nodded to a chair. “In times of turmoil, when we find ourselves imperiled and divided by circumstance, the best tools at our disposal are those that build and mend instead.”

“A very Organa philosophy.”

“Friend” of Alderaan or not, it was not Tion’s prerogative to dictate the flow of the conversation. Leia could have let the silence stand until intermission ended. She chose to refrain from speech for only a handful of heartbeats as it was not in her best interests to make an Imperial guest uncomfortable.

“I appreciate your concern,” Leia said at last. “Alderaan reposes its complete trust in the justice system and those who serve it.”

“As you should.” He affected a mournful grimace. “House Organa’s only hope is in the mercy of the Empire.”

“Mercy is undeserved clemency,” Leia pointed out. “We trust in the courts because his acquittal would be well-deserved. My father has ever been a servant of the highest ideals.”

“Though many would question the wisdom or ethics of such ideals.” As quickly as it had come, his feigned regret transformed into something self-satisfied. “He has been a loyal servant of the government since the days of a regime that did not serve the interests of the people.”

It was neither the time nor the place to debate how well the Empire addressed the same interests. “The Galaxy has changed a great deal since the Clone Wars. The need for peace has not.”

“Your Highness, we have always agreed on that point.”

You did not travel from the Starfleet to engage in a history lesson. And I have no delusions about your concern for my family or my world.

“How long will you be staying?”

“Oh, shorter than I would like.” He sighed in apparent weariness, but his posture remained erect so that he struck an imposing figure by contrast to his host. “I am sure you have heard of my efforts on Raltiir.”

Just as Leia was sure he had heard that some of the Raltiirians who had been off-world were using Alderaan as a waypoint until the civil unrest was suppressed. They joined hundreds of other people who had optimistically believed that peace would someday be restored. Some of the refugees had been looking forward to that restoration for decades. She was also certain that his mention of a Rebel uprising was anything but an off-hand comment.

“Word of your efforts on the Emperor’s behalf has reached Alderaan frequently,” Leia replied diplomatically. “I am sure that he appreciates your efficiency and the clever uses to which you put your loyalty to the Empire.”

He smothered a chuckle before speaking next and she perceived that he might have taken that as what passed for admiration where Imperial officers were concerned. “I am concerned for Raltiir, as the Emperor is,” he confirmed. “It is a world ravaged by insurrectionist activity and all have suffered for the actions of a few.”

“A few?” Leia echoed. “Surely, the actions on Raltiir are a response to widespread turmoil.”

“To be sure.” At this, he smiled coldly in appreciation of her understanding. “But it began with a regrettable power vacuum in which disorder fomented and murmurs of disquiet became a cacophony of sedition.”

How poetic.

“Raltiir is a world under quarantine,” Tion continued. “Would that their troubles could be solved by the attentions of a physician and the disease of resistance contained. But we know that treason is rarely recognized before it has caused a widespread infection and we may already be seeing early symptoms of how many other of Raltiir’s allies and supporters have been exposed.”

“May justice take its course wherever the good of the people is imperiled.”

Leia’s response hearkened back to prayers that the original settlers had brought with them. She doubted that Lord TIon had ever studied such philosophical aspects of Alderaan’s culture, but the statement invoked the protection of Taia and the justice that all of her followers yearned for. In a time when Leia was willing to express her confidence in her father’s innocence, she felt no shame in honoring the faith that had been her world’s legacy and guiding star from the beginning of recorded history.

“I am confident that justice will be done.” At last, he leaned forward to share an undoubtedly menacing secret. “It would be a misfortune if Alderaan were the next world to require my personal attention.”

She had expected the implied threat since the beginning of the conversation and that alone kept her from shuddering in dread. If the man had thought himself subtle, he was blind to more than a few philosophical perspectives.

“You are always welcome to visit in peace,” Leia stated as though the implications had fallen on deaf ears. “I hope that you enjoy the remainder of the concert.”

Even on her own world, it was impolite to dismiss an Imperial officer of Tion’s status, but the lights flashed twice to invite patrons to return to their seats. Tion reached out and clasped her hand tightly.

“They are performing a new work dedicated v’l’Amnios,” he remarked while his nails scratched the top layer of skin and his grip compressed her metacarpal bones slightly. “To the forgotten thousands who died in the bloody aftermath of the Clone Wars. May House Organa exercise the wisdom to ensure that those are the last of the mass casualties to be associated with this world.”

Without further comment, he released her hand and left the box as though she had been at his disposal.

*

Seth had been offered accommodations within the Alderaanian Consulate. For the man who would see to the liberation of the Viceroy, the staff was willing to great lengths. They offered him not only quarters, but office space, auxiliary staff and even the comm code to kitchen staff. He thanked them politely, but turned down most of the offers with equal kindness.

It was not that he was ashamed of his association with the beleaguered regent of a Core World. One of his paralegals had commented that the efforts of Alderaanians to bend over backwards didn’t pay the rent on his place of business and Seth had let the comment stand, but that had nothing to do with his motivations.

Simply put, if Lord Vader had amassed enough information to arrest Bail Organa, there was no guarantee that the incriminating details had come exclusively from sources outside of the Consulate. The discovery and affidavits would illuminate some of the chain of evidence, but he was determined to do what he could to isolate the case preparations from those who might have been covertly working for someone with a seat in the Imperial Palace.

The main precautions involved doing sweeps for recording devices, transmitters and such. Then they would use some things that were not technically illegal but usually used by people with sinister purposes. The Empire might not have interest in their debate over taking on a new researcher for the duration of the trial, but they might use that information to plant one of their own people in the pool of candidates. The counterintelligence devices were used sparingly and at random points of the day so no pattern could be exploited.

Tonight’s staff meeting was catered by an Ishorian diner three levels down and probably wouldn’t have passed muster at the Consulate, but it was a staple of all major cases and no one in his office dared to suggest an alternative to what helped him think creatively. He had also dismissed all but the most senior staff in the office and bribed them into a late-night brainstorm.

“I was reading yesterday,” Ofan Kelt commented after snatching the last sourberry wrap.

“A dangerous pastime,” Seth responded.

“I know. It won’t happen again.” He shrugged and nudged the switch for the jammer with an elbow. “I talked to Riemann in the prosecutor’s office and he said we should anticipate at least two preliminary hearings, but no one’s gotten back to either of us on possible dates.”

“Maybe someone’s consulting a chart for auspicious dates,” Ofan suggested. “As long as it’s not during the kids’ school breaks, I’ll be happy.”

“It may take a while,” Seth pointed out. “We don’t even have an arraignment date and if the other side’s dragging their feet, we could be enjoying the Hall of Justice in all its many seasons.”

“Spring, summer, autumn, insufferably hot, unbearably cold, vaguely damp and winter?”

“You’re forgetting the six weeks when we have to stop ten times a day for power outages.”

Seth grinned and raised a fork in salute. “Of course. How could I forget? Liet, will you pass the tchau-sauce?”

The woman who seamlessly handled hearing preparations obliged and toggled the jammer switch before turning back to Ofan. “Back to the reading. Are you about to make a book recommendation or does this have something to do with the case?”

“Both,” his chief paralegal responded a few moments of chewing later. “I found a review article from the Clone Wars when charges were being brought against some of the Jedi.”

This was definitely not material for Imperial ears. People tended to be questioned for even mentioning the Force.

“Back in the days when being a Jedi got you due process instead of a good view of a firing squad,” Liet interjected while reaching for a dish of steamed vegetables. Seth’s junior associate rarely had reason to speak up in court, but she was notoriously frank in staff meetings. “What did they have to say?”

“Relatively few Jedi were ever brought to trial,”Ofan said, “but legal scholars were highly interested in the kind of legal processes that might be affected by a community that had previously been answerable to Chancellor and, by extension, the Senate. The Jedi served across the Republic, but eyewitness accounts were hard to come by.”

“And when Jedi assignments were high-profile enough to be captured on holo for posterity or prosecuting attorneys, it was often difficult to distinguish who was responsible for what in large-scale engagements,” Seth recalled. He jerked his head towards the jammer and Liet obligingly switched it back. “Where are we on getting records from Alderaan’s treasury department and foreign affairs ministry?”

“Cantham House says they’ve got arrangements made for the courier to stay the day after tomorrow,” Liet said. “It’s a bit old-fashioned to not trust things to the comms, but I can understand their caution.”

“We’re not paying for the transport, so I don’t see a problem with it,” Ofan said. “I’ll get those to our on-call accounting whiz the day after the courier touches down. Do we know when the last Imperial audit was?”

“Four years ago.”

“I trust one of you had the foresight to check the results?”

“At that time, they came out clean,” Ofan responded before Liet could answer. “I’m sure our Imperial counterparts are running over the reports with a fine-toothed comb, so I thought it would be advisable to do the same. I have no degrees in economics or accounting, but I know the basics of what to look for and can leave the detailed work to professionals.”

Seth nodded. “Can you pull the files in question for me? I’ll want to use them as a bedtime story.”

“They’re as good a sedative as anything a doctor can prescribe,” he joked. “I’ll get those on datacards now.”

Ofan, of course, stayed within the room, but the jammer was adjusted once more while he typed idly at the computer station.

“Back to the eyewitness accounts,” Seth interjected before they could get into one of their usual friendly spats. “You mentioned the Clone Wars.”

Ofan nodded. “A few days ago, Liet told me about an article that discussed inadmissible evidence based on a connection to the Force and it reminded me of a case I had reviewed from the first year of the Empire.”

“It may be the same one,” Liet agreed. “I’m sure you remember how much favor towards the Jedi changed in the Clone Wars…”

“Or my parents did,” Seth snorted. “I was all of six years old on the first Empire Day and more interested in building blocks than matters of Galactic politics.”

She waved away the comment; to her, he was a wise, old mentor and that entitled her to think of his as ancient. “Some people thought of the Jedi as their all-purpose saviors,” she explained. “Even off-duty Jedi could be called upon to settle minor squabbles and when serious matters of state needed to be mediated, they would send someone packing a lightsaber. Because the Grand Army of the Republic was an unknown quantity, many began to think of the Jedi as lousy sons-of-Sith who were enjoying playing the hero.”

“Which wasn’t far off in some cases,” Ofan interjected. “What does that have to do with inadmissible evidence?”

Liet shot him an impatient look, but directed her remarks to Seth. “I looked up a few trials that pre-dated Geonosis and attorneys were occasionally granted the right to pursue a line of questioning because hearsay and speculation was not as clear-cut when a witness had the power to read the mind of a criminal.”

“Vader was a Jedi once,” Ofan pointed out; it was one of the worst-kept secrets in the Empire. “I don’t know if this will be brought before someone as suspicious of the Force as Khatarn or one of his ilk, but I think we’d be smart to use the Setaren Measures to block any evidence not backed up by recording or record.”

“So you’d like to talk the judge into treating anything Vader learned while rummaging around in Bail Organa’s brain as inadmissible hearsay?” Seth clarified. “You’re assuming the judge will get his marching orders from someone not directly associated with Palpatine.”

“I’m assuming that they waited this long to bring charges against him because they intended to provide concrete evidence,” Ofan countered. “We don’t know who called that shot, but we know that it’s safe to assume they’ll have a data trail. I say it’s in our best interests to make sure that is the only thing the jury gets to hear.”

*

At Leia’s request, Thane Mekthama was her first private meeting for the following morning. Guards were posted at the door, but not permitted to bear witness to the conversation, so Winter sat by Leia’s side. She took notes dutifully of what Leia needed and what she granted to the security advisor, but the more important account of every word spoken would be stored in her memory. The notes were just window-dressing.

The audience didn’t last long, but Leia came straight to the point. Ten minutes after she stated that “Lord Tion paid me a friendly visit at intermission,” the man had agreed to some specialized precautions for the spaceports, diplomatic restrictions, and precautionary measures.

“I doubt Senator Bel Iblis will return,” Winter commented once the man had left with a formal bow.

“I’m sure you’re right,” Leia said, “but the Senator has many friends and resources and while I have made my position on accepting his help quite clear, I suspect that he already circumvented my wishes. We may already be playing host to those who answer to him and the Empire is unlikely to believe us when we claim ignorance. It is my intention to avoid the appearance of evil and so long as we are under Tion’s watchful eye, that will be the policy.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Any further discussion was curtailed as a tone chimed on Winter’s datapad. She immediately stood, her expression somewhere between elation and alarm.

“Your Highness,” she said breathlessly, “there is an incoming comm request for you. The identifying code is that of the Viceroy.”

It was unseemly for any member of the Royal Court to sprint through the Palace, so Winter requested that the transmission be routed to the long-range holocomm unit in Leia’s quarters. The head of the morning guard detail saw to the duty personally, so that Leia needed only to enter her personal comm code to speak to her father.

It was something of a miracle that she had the peace of mind to recall the sixteen-digit sequence on the first attempt. Her hands shook with anticipation, but the comm accepted it and the only delay came when a computerized voice notified her that the incoming call was being placed from within the Imperial prison system and all calls could be recorded.

When Father appeared, thinner and paler, but alive, she nearly succumbed to tears, but Leia contented herself with touching the display with instinctive reverence. He returned the gesture with his hands trapped in manacles, but it was a long moment before either of them could speak.

“Leia,” he said quietly, “it has been too long.”

She heard an apology in that simple sentence, as though he considered it his own fault that the Empire had been bullied into treating him on equal footing as other prisoners. She chose her words carefully, but her hand still rested against the image of his cheek. “Father, I would not hold It against you if I were required to wait for a lifetime.”

Leia had meant to reassure him that he was not the one whose actions were causing her anxiety, but Father looked away. “Justice-willing, it will not come to that,” he murmured.

“Your attorney implied that this communication is your right on a weekly basis,” she stated. “I hope he is correct, but do not trouble yourself if you must put other matters first. I am not waiting for detailed instructions on how to carry on with court business and the Council is being most helpful.”

He met her eyes again at this. “Oh?”

“Certainly,” Leia responded. “I understand that they are to stand in the regent’s stead.”

Giving more details, even which thanes had been guests at the Court, could be dangerous, but that statement at least conveyed that they were following Alderaanian law at its most fundamental level.

“I am glad to hear it.” He glanced away once more, but seemed to decide that she deserved an honest exchange of words and expression. “I am proud that you have things so well in hand.”

Leia did not manage a smile, but inclined her head in respect. “I only strive to act as you would.”

Which is why Lord Tion is so concerned with my priorities. There are undoubtedly others, but they have not the rank nor the audacity to make threats.

“Then I trust that you will honor the request that I must ask of you.”

The vows from her ersatz Day of Demand returned to her mind without hesitation, as they had gnawed at her thoughts since that night. I will stand in my father’s stead. I will arm myself to strike against what Vader stands for. I will not lose faith in freedom.

But she could not depend on herself to be bold so immediately. She could only promise with any kind of certainty that she would live for Alderaan as he did.

“If it is within my power, I will,” she stated.

The breath that he drew in visibly caused him pain, or was it the thought of the coming exhalation that taxed him? Whatever he had intended to say required another moment of strength-gathering and Leia let her hand drop to her side. Only then did she let her hand ball into a fist to contain the tremor that had set in.

“My time as regent has been well-spent,” Father said in ringing tones quite at odds with his pallor, “but it is spent. Alderaan has need of a ruler and I cannot return to you if my efforts are divided between my freedom and our world’s.”

“Father, you...”

He plunged on before she could finish that thought. “You were invested with the heir’s crown years ago,” he said. “You proved yourself worthy of your royal heritage time and again.”

She had thought on that day that the ceremony meant acknowledging that one day, her parents would be no more. May that day be long in coming, she had prayed silently before accepting the crown mere months before she lost her mother.

But I have not completed my challenges. I cannot stand in my father’s stead when I have so much yet to learn. He has been Vader’s stalwart enemy, yet I am unarmed. The only challenge that I feel equal to is that of having faith in freedom.

Her eyes stung, but she tightened her eyelids to restrain them and Father would have seen it as only a grimace.

“Your mother also did not feel herself ready when asked to take the throne,” Father said as though reading her frenzied thoughts. More likely, he had noted the cold terror that had crept through her skin throughout this gently-worded speech. “Those who believe they have completed their learning when they assume the throne are those who fail to rule effectively.”

He had not asked her to take the throne just yet, but it seemed as though he were giving her ample time to complete her own internal struggle. He could not have known that the struggle was far from over when he spoke next.

“Leia Organa, Crown Princess of Alderaan, I have served as regent in the stead of the woman who judged that you have earned your right to the throne with great strength and even greater spirit.”

“In all ways, you have proved yourself worthy,” Mother had said in the formal ceremony of investiture.

“It is the will of all those who have watched you with pride that you represent them from the throne,” he said more softly. “Will you bow to their will?”

This time, she could no more than whisper, “Father you cannot ask this of me yet.”

“I must ask you,” he countered. “Not simply because Alderaan needs someone to look to in faith and with hope. Not merely because it has been your right since your investiture.”

I cannot stand alone against the Empire until your acquittal.

Her adamant leadership during his absence should have instilled confidence, but with the spectre of Lord Tion and his suggested garrison in the back of her mind, she felt as though she were standing against the Empire with a blaster against the nape of her neck.

“As Queen, you will have no right or power delegated to your advisors,” Father continued. “You will find yourself equal to the choices demanded of you and you will find yourself equal to the task of living for your people as all who have gone before have.”

It was a child’s fantasy to dream of power. It had been her adolescent aspiration to reach new heights of maturity. As a woman who had yet to reach the age of ascension, she felt as impotent as a toddler playing Imps and Rebels who had been given a military-grade blaster rifle to replace the stick with which she had been pretending at bravery.

“Will you bow to the will of your Queen and her appointed regent?” he asked with tacit firmness.

This time, it was Leia who required several pained breaths to prepare herself to speak. Her hands unclenched and she held his gaze until her heartbeat slowed to a more sedate pace. Twice more, tears nearly came, but she could not let emotion dictate her choice. She would allow herself to feel and conviction would come, but now was only a time for duty and bravery.

“I will, my lord regent.”

He reached out again and touched the screen where he must have seen a crease of anxiety. He smoothed it away and she did her best to respond. “Then I will request a meeting with my representative tomorrow,” he said. “The Council of Thanes will receive notification of my intentions in a legally-binding document and—”


“Thane Velraine said they could approve an early ascension by a majority vote,” Leia recalled.

“Only if I am unable to communicate my wishes or the time has elapsed without a declaration from the regent.”

He repeated the soothing gesture and it recalled dozens of nights when he would attempt to negotiate a peaceful surrender to sleep with the excitable young Princess. An Organa Mind Trick, he had called it until Mother overheard and balked at the idea of seeming to borrow a Jedi technique. From the beginning, mother had striven to raise a daughter who would not immediately be seen as an enemy of the Empire. Father had, in his own, complicated way, raised a daughter who would not side silently with the enemies of justice. She was still learning how difficult both traits were to maintain as years accumulated behind her.

“You do your Queen great honor,” he mused. “I did not wish to ask this of you, but there is no other course of action that will do as much good for Alderaan as giving you charge over its future.”

“I am accepting it because I love you more than fear,” she responded.

“No,” Father said, and he glanced away for the first time in minutes. “You are accepting because you love Alderaan far more than you love any mortal being. I trust that wholeheartedly and I trust you implicitly.”

She was prepared to weep when they finally ended the conversation, but the urge had passed. She only found the urgent need to develop more extraordinary courage.

 

Magnificent DarthIshtar. This exchange is touching and candid. You have Leia's motives and reactions perfectly.
She is quintessential courage, for which I admire her indescribably.

 

Pitch-perfect Leia. As for that Lord Tion... I don't think I've heard of him before now. But damn he's a slimy son of a bantha.

 

In the radio dramas, minutes before we ever meet Vader, Leia butts heads with an Imperial officer suppressing the rebellion on Raltiir . He questions her allegiance to traitors and makes a few veiled threats . He then goes to Alderaan for hunting and to impress Leia with his various tyrannical ways . Since she's just gotten the plans for the Death Star, she goes along with the interaction, but accidentally lets slip that she knows about the Death Star . He's about to have her arrested when she kills him.

So in a world where Alderaan needs to be drolly threatened and Leia can't risk any connection to the Alliance, Tion is going to show up a lot.

 

Thanks for the info. And yeah, he's perfect for this role.

 

Double post .

 

Author’s note: You’ll find a lot of gobbledygook in the middle of this. If you’ve read stories like The Ties That Bind or Lest Ye Be Judged, you might recognize it as my invented language, Taiald. For those of you who are trying to place it, it’s a combination of Greek and Hebrew language/syntax rules with obvious Latinate influences and the first time I used it at any length was for Leia’s coronation in The Ties That Bind. I have explained what it says in context, but try to figure out the linguistics and you might need a painkiller. Also, forgive my first attempts at writing everyone associated with the Rogue One squad. If it sucks. Much of this was written while on another vacation, since I had 36 hours on a train from Los Angeles to Seattle.

*

Winter was originally meant to have been nothing more than a friend to the High Princess of Alderaan. Her mother, Sheltay, had a long-time ally of the royal court, but that fact had no bearing on the fact that a court life was a lonely one at any age and Queen Breha and her faithful Senator had hoped to ease some of their daughter’s suffering.

The relationship became even more familiar when Sheltay had died. Though Leia didn’t know why, she keenly felt the devastation of losing a mother and raised no objections when it was proposed that the girl who had been like a sister to Leia join the family more permanently.

Winter had only been intended as a friend, but she had an uncanny instinct for being in the right place in the most desperate hour. If Leia had been able to seek a seat in the Imperial Senate, she would have taken Winter as her most trusted aide.

Leia left the comm station to find her quarters empty. The only sign that anyone had been there was a cooling pot of spiced paricha and two cups. Winter had brought her something for comfort, then had the good sense to withdraw until Leia had the courage to seek her out.

“She thought you might like some sweets as well,” the nearest guard informed Leia as soon as she opened the door. “She should be back momentarily.”

Leia felt like eating nothing, since the fear clenching her stomach on the way to the comm unit had been replaced with a sickening dread once she had disconnected the call. Winter had yet to hear the news, so her assumption was normally correct.

“Show her in when she returns,” Leia instructed.

She had just poured the paricha when the door opened and Winter entered with a steady gait and a large plate of pastries. She immediately glanced towards the tray of drinks and seemed satisfied that she was on the correct path.

“Thank you,” Leia said before she could comment. “Will you join me?”

“Of course.” Had they been outside of this wing, Winter would have added an honorific, but these were the rooms where family could be more familiar with each other. “I trust your father is well?”

Her father had been thinner and healing from Imperial attention, but he had not seemed weak. “As well as can be expected,” Leia responded. “I’m sure he would be grateful to hear of your concern.”

Winter briefly hid her smile behind the cup. “And he is grateful for the work you are doing in his stead.”

Leia stalled for a moment by retrieving one of the smaller pastries and occupying her attention with eating it. It tasted of nothing but ash, but the hope her father had hoped to kindle in her was something of a slow burn. It might burn itself out or consume her entirely.

“I am accepting because I love you more than fear.”

When the last morsel was gone, she still had not found the appropriate words for what must come next.

After another cup of paricha, consumed in silence, Leia rested both hands in her lap and waited mere seconds before finally confessing.

“I will need to meet with the Council of Thanes as soon as the full quorum can be convened,” she announced.

“I will see that the proper calls are placed,” Winter promised. “I presume that no recusals will be permitted…”

“No.” Leia shook her head as if to clear away an interfering insect. “Calls can be intercepted or overheard. Not all of the thanes are likely to have an Imperial loyalist on their staff, but most of them put their trust in people who enjoy a good rumor.”

She was quoting her mother now. The court gossip circuit was a source of amusement to Breha at times, but it had caused nearly catastrophic repercussions at others. Leia had rarely understood the repercussions personally, but knew that there were some members of the court who were never spoken of again and one who had been publicly turned over to the proper Imperial authorities in the spirit of cooperation. She could only imagine what stories would be told if the thanes heard of the meeting through second-hand reports.

“Father has said that he will be sending them the official document tomorrow, but this council session must be convened by personal invitation of the heir apparent.” She lowered her eyes to the hands still clasping her cup and drew in a deep, restorative breath before meeting her friend’s gaze once more. “Of course, it would be more conspicuous for you to embark on a grand tour of every continent.”

“What luck that I am not the only courier who can be trusted, then.” Winter’s face had paled in the course of the discussion, but her expression remained resolute. “I will rally your messengers personally and give them their instructions quite clearly.”

“Time, place and urgency are the only things to be mentioned,” Leia said with a nod. “Each hour that passes increases the chance that we are too late to keep this confidential.”

Winter needed to make no further promises, so she let the silence linger for a minute longer. Finally, she set aside the food and her attempts to be reassuring in favor of frankness.

“What will the document say?”

“It will announce that he is formally relinquishing his post as regent and that I am to be crowned,” Leia stated. “He may also step down from the Senatorial delegation, but that was not discussed.”

It was several moments before Winter could compose herself well enough to speak, but she spoke in a voice barely above a whisper. “He believes that he has no hope of returning to his homeworld?”

“My time as regent has been well-spent, but it is spent.”

She had hoped that, with charges brought against him, there would be a moment of victory over each of his adversaries. She had anticipated a forum for the truth of his bravery. She had feared that it would be a spectacular demonstration of his vulnerability and Lord Vader’s invincibility.

“He believes that that matter will be decided in due course and this action must be taken now,” Leia explained. “I respect his judgment and I will do as he wishes.”

She knew immediately that Winter would require no further justification. In an ordinary world, this ‘promotion’ might have been cause for celebration, but in a hereditary monarchy, it meant that death or disaster had come to a beloved figurehead. No one with any sense would think to congratulate her. She had long prepared to take the throne in the midst of grief, but these were extraordinarily unhappy circumstances.

“I am accepting because I love you more than fear.”

“You are accepting because you love Alderaan.”

“Will there be a vote?” Winter interrupted her thoughts.

“It is unnecessary,” Leia said automatically. “They will convene to hear that I am aware of his decree and have agreed to fulfill his request. They may express opinions or make recommendations, but this is not a matter of democracy.”

I can no more escape this destiny than bring my mother back to life.

“It is a formality, but one that must be observed in complete secret.”

“It will be done.”

*

This would be an occasion preserved for posterity. Security concerns would not allow it to be live-broadcast, but at least part of the proceedings would be made available to the holoshills who reported on the impending coronation. Analysts would note the significance of any dissenting opinions and analyze the makeup of the Queen’s Council that would be convened as Leia’s next order of business.

Rather than wear the white of the Alderaanian delegation or feature red fabrics to pay homage to the Empire, Leia donned an old-fashioned blue gown with a high neckline and elaborately-embroidered sleeves. It was patterned after a gown favored by a chancellor’s wife in the days when such people existed, and Leia had always felt it made her look more somber than she had any right to be. Today, it was necessary to look regal and formal and this would be just the thing. Rather than ask her attendant droid to do something elaborate with her hair, she drew her hair into a low bun and let her most prominent accessory be the crown that she had earned after her Day of Demand.

The secrecy and urgency meant that no aides were to be included in the discussion, so Winter embraced her in the privacy of her room, then curtsied formally to her at the doors to the Council chamber. The guards bowed and refrained from their usual friendliness. She was grateful for the respect, but it only heightened her sense of anxiety. She took a moment to steady her breath and calm her mind before nodding to the men.

“Her Royal Highness, Leia Organa, High Princess of Alderaan.”

There was a scraping of the old-fashioned chairs and eight men and four women rose to their feet in respectful silence. Each bowed or curtsied in turn in order of seniority and she nodded in quiet approval. When that was done, she allowed Thane Mekthama to draw out her chair and sat stiff-backed and resolute.

“Euved,” she began. “V’taiaketh ou e v’nomh v’Regha Breha Taialderaaniet vegho eu em eun v’Organa…”

Taiald was rarely used in regular speech, since outward expansion from the system had necessitated the adoption of Basic as an official language, but traditions were upheld dear in the court and every declaration of ascension in recorded history had been done in the language spoken by the first settlers who came to their world. Leia had learned the words years ago, but recited them with a lexicon on hand for the past standard day.

“V’nomh v’Regha e medri ma, eu vegho manhar…”

In the name of my Queen and my mother, I come to demand…

It was not a formal declaration just yet. She only needed to command their attention and turn over the most pressing business to Verlaine. He was not the most senior of the thanes, but he would be able to field any legal or precedent-based questions that might arise in the wake of Father’s transmission.

“E segh h’volu v’Regh-vis Bail Organa, eu vegho met soth b’h’taialethi.”

And by the will of Viceroy Bail Organa, I seek wisdom on behalf of all children of Taia.

“Brigath, T’Altzeh,” Thane Therlaine thanked her on cue.

His recitation of the manner of delivery did not demand her attention, so she took a moment to glance at each of her council. None of them seemed surprised by the proceedings thus far. Winter had refused to answer questions, but the full quorum was rarely mandated and the inclusion of Taiald narrowed down the possible outcomes of this meeting. She saw many cautious or mournful expressions, but not one seemed angry or defensive. They were here, as she was, on behalf of all the children of Taia.

“Segh h’volu v’Altzeh Leia Organa Taialderaani, eu ehemple h’soth e h’volu v’Regh-vis Bail Organa.”

The document containgin the “wisdom and will” would be transcribed for official records, but Father had recorded a holo for this declaration. He had been bathed and given fresh clothing, not the non-descript prison clothes, but this did not keep him from looking haggard and Leia refrained from looking away. This man was both less familiar to her than a father and more dear to her in his tribulation than ever before.

There had been no way to rehearse this turmoil, but she forced herself to meet his holographic gaze as if his message were for her alone, rather than a legally-binding transfer of power.

“…Conhiv H’reghaza v’taiakethi vert am fila ma, Altze Amad Nod Leia Organa…”

She drew back at the change in form. In a document where he had undoubtedly gone through several drafts and consulted precedent, no word could be counted as unintentional.

I entrust the true queenship over Taia’s children to my daughter, Our Beloved Highness Leia Organa.

She had read similar documents last night to prepare for the impersonal nature that was bound to come through, but none of them had felt the need to entrust the successor with the “true” queenship. In any other context, it might have been interpreted as a moment of appreciation for Alderaanian culture. But it called to mind another use of vert.

“In the sight of all Alderaanians and by the grace of Taia, I name this child as my true and beloved daughter, Leia…”

At one point, she had asked why the Naming included the word and he had solemnly responded that this was to establish that no power of gods or men could desecrate the nature of the true thing. It had been included in every Naming done in the old ways, but for the Organas, it meant that nothing could change how completely they belonged to their adopted daughter.

I entrust the true queenship.

Did he have some reason to think that her legitimate claim to the throne might be challenged or was this a mere reminder of how completely she would have to give herself to the people of Alderaan?

“T’Altze.”

Leia had not noticed the fading of the holo, nor the end of the declaration. It had been one of the most significant speeches of modern Alderaanian history and she had been sidetracked by a single word. She adjusted her focus and found every eye once more on her. For a handful of heartbeats, she could not remember her own name, much less the proper syntax for the next statement.

“Brigath,” she stalled.

H’reghaza vert. Vert. Vert. What is he expecting to happen?

Forget that word. He meant it as an honor, not a warning.

He is languishing in Imperial prison and I could be next. I have no choice but to see it as a warning.

But not now. He has just entrusted you with the queenship. Respond to the faith that he has in you.

“Met h’am e h’soth copredat v’pah vert, eu aduch h’conhiued v’reghaza v’Taiaketh.”

With love and wisdom learned from my true father, I accept the entrusted queenship of Taia’s children.

Father would be shown these proceedings. Seth would see to that. She had no idea what he meant by echoing her Naming, but with an added word of her own, she let him know that she had not been deaf to the message.

*

“How many of you keep an eye on politics?”

The response was immediate and amused. In Intelligence work, politics tended to be behind the times and a distraction from a mission. Of Cassian’s squad, only three members raised a hand and one was K2-SO. It didn’t matter that the droid usually quoted political proceedings to criticize Cassian’s priorities. He at least had his processors in the right place.

“I use Senate hearings when I can’t sleep,” Basteren added helpfully. “What politics were you referring to?”

“It depends on where our orders are coming from,” Sefla pointed out.

Rather than set off a round of speculations, this caused an expectant silence. With Operation Fracture underway, they had been managing networks of contacts and informants, rummaging through Imperial data and paying very close attention to Fleet movements. A mention of something as potentially mundane as a broadcast about the Senate Select Committee on Refugees certainly got their attention.

To stall for time, Cassian cued up the projector and adjusted the settings to scan the chip secreted in his back pocket. This caused the squad’s comm officer to squint and frown in concentration, but there was nothing on the displays to provide a clue. For all they knew, he was putting in a dinner order while making small talk.

“The General,” Cassian responded.

Appreciative murmuring ensued. If Intelligence were a mission, Garm Bel Iblis would have been its patron deity. When The General called the shots, there was hell to pay for someone in the Empire, even if it might be years down the road.

“Does this have to do with his recent concern over the power vacuum on Alderaan?” Farsin speculated.

“There’s no power vacuum on Alderaan,” K2-SO interjected impatiently. “If you paid more attention to hereditary monarchy than your facial hair, you might have noticed that.”

“He’s got a point,” Cassian cut him off. “Not about the facial hair—we could all use a little more of it—but Alderaan has had a regent since the Queen’s death. Who’s been paying attention to what the regent has been up to?”

“Everyone with a working newsfeed and basic knowledge of the courts in the Alliance,” Eskro said. “I think High Command’s been ready to blow a gasket for weeks.”

“They are certainly concerned, but that is a judicial matter.” Cassian pointed out.

He tapped a final button on the projector and a transcript of the Organas’ statements blinked into life.

“I won’t bore you with the translation,” he said. “What this means is that Bail Organa officially declared his intention to end his regency period and his daughter is to be crowned Queen. Their top people voted unanimously to support it.”

“So they’re getting ready for a party no one wanted and he’s removed himself from the guest list?” Tonc summarized. “Does the General want us to clean up and crash the coronation?”

“Not exactly.”

“Historically, major events have served as useful distractions,” K2-SO said. “They serve no practical function, as all procedures could be handled by a contractual exchange, but they send a message.”

“Even if the message is, ‘Look happy. You may be dying, but you’re dying for people with style?’” Tonc scoffed.

“I applaud your cynical accuracy,” the droid responded drily.

“Starving for a cause,” Basteren added. “It’s a universal hobby.”

“There is a historical habit of using all the excitement as cover for some things. Assassinations have been carried out. Heists happened. Worlds change and no one in power notices it until they’d slept off the patriotic hangover. The Jedi once infiltrated their own temple while Palpatine was busy declaring himself Emperor.”

“So, the General wants us to get Vader really drunk and talk him into dropping charges?” Sefla suggested. “I’d like to see someone try.”

Cassian banished the mental image with a shake of his head. “Bel Iblis thinks it would be ideal timing to stage a jailbreak as an unofficial gift to Alderaan’s new queen.”

He expected more appreciative murmurs, but got stunned silence instead. As usual, K2-SO was only too happy to speak his mind first.

“Was this your idea of should I be crediting the former Senator from Corellia as being an unparalleled idiot?”

“I thought the Princess nixed Rebel involvement,” Farsin said. “That’s what’s been said any time someone suggests cutting the trial short.”

“Her Royal Highness was looking after the interests of Alderaan while its de facto ruler was threatened,” Cassian corrected, gesturing to the glowing text in midair. “The Organas just took that concern out of the equation.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Tonc said. “They’ll just target a different ruler and see what charges they can tack on now that she’s involved in the Rebellion.”

No matter that she had been indirectly involved for longer than anyone on Alderaan would care to admit.

“Well, that’s the thing. If we get this right, ‘Rebel involvement’ will just be another unfounded conspiracy theory.”

“I was joking about getting Vader drunk,” Sefla protested.

“The principle is the same.” Cassian tried a confident smile, but no one returned it. “The Empire is going to set Bail Organa free around the time his daughter takes her throne and our only job is giving them the tools to make the correct mistakes on his behalf.”

*

The first official act of the coronation process was Bail’s statement, but the matter became real for Alderaan’s citizens when the Palace press corps announced that the magnificent event would be occurring twenty-four days later. It was to be a fine summer’s day in Aldera and thousands would turn out for the processions.

Those who had been loyal to Alderaan when its delegation served in the Republic Senate recognized that the girl who had been born in the infancy of the Empire would begin her reign on the day that used to celebrate the founding of the Republic.

 

A significant day there for her to begin her reign. Considering what she's trying to bring about, quite fitting too.

 

Enjoyed very much the Winter/Leia scene and the depth of their friendship. A very momentous day for Leia indeed & she is equal to the task ahead.

 

“The principle is the same.” Cassian tried a confident smile, but no one returned it. “The Empire is going to set Bail Organa free around the time his daughter takes her throne and our only job is giving them the tools to make the correct mistakes on his behalf.”

Ohhh, very curious as to what their plan is especially since (rot13 since I know where Ish is taking at least part of this) V xabj vg vf qbbzrq gb snvy.

I like that her coronation will coincide with the Republic's founding day.

And now I want to dissect some Tiald.

 

Here are some random hints on how taiald works. It uses the Hebrew article and noun combination pattern as well as the Greek “the of the thing other thing” syntax. Spanish and Portuguese both contribute to possessive pronouns. For words, you sometimes combine Greek and Latin adjectives and nouns into a verb in the form of a noun (Spanish does this with words like killfly and opencan for fly swatter and can opener). And the v’ prefix is an homage to things like van Beethoven and von trapp.

If that’s not complicated enough, I once had a Naboo language partially developed from the syntax of Hebrew and the conjugations of Portuguese. That was fun, but only used once.

 

Author's note: As repentance for having had problems writing at all this year, I'm doing the following. I am going to post this nearly-10,000-word update. I'm going to post an epic update that may or may not be as long in the next 10 days. Depends on how well my brain cooperates. Also, I'm going to be finishing up a light-hearted humorfic about Princess Leia's Hoth days sometime this week and posting it. And I apologize/don't apologize for 9338 words. I meant to do 2500, then had my brain yell at me to set up something for the rest of the fic RIGHT NOW. You'll see what I mean soon. Some notes: Leia's red dress is from Time of Confessions and Concessions, as is the history of the disarmament. The line about all justice before self is the first piece of Alderaan fanon that I came up with back in the 1990s. Alderaanian religious practices and history are something I came up with in response to a line in the ESB novelization about Leia thinking of a prayer often uttered on Alderaan when she's waiting for Luke and Han to return.
*
In many places in the Galaxy, Imp-standard was an insult. Any person trying to hide their squalid upbringing or scruffy appearance with a clean-cut look was judged to be fooling no one. They were broken-down speeders with a shiny coat of paint and no one wanted to be mistaken for a pretty boy with his head where the sun doesn’t shine.

This was particularly true in the Alliance, where uniforms were scrounged if they existed at all and no one on most bases knew how to cut hair. It was even something of a joke that you could find a rebel cell by following any half-starved person with a bad mustache into a tapcafe. They were cast-offs from Carida and proud of it.

In Alliance Intelligence, scruffy was as much a requirement as a passing score in marksmanship. Clothes that had seen better days and a chin with three days of stubble let them blend in with a lot of the people who were desperate enough to ignore Imperial definitions of loyalty. And every member of Cassian’s squad had at least one story of how it had been a life-saving thing to be nondescript.


This mission was out-of-the-ordinary, though. A few of them had been to Imperial Center in their current role or in the life that they were dead to. One had even spent a summer as an intern in the Senate and could put the entire squad to sleep with stories about tax cuts.

“A few of us are automatically qualified to be off-stage,” Cassian announced over their usual briefing spread. “You can probably guess why.”

“Speciesism,” Paodok'Draba'Takat volunteered. “I’m proud to be too Drabatan to blend in on Imperial Center.”

“They’d be all in favor of letting you see the inside of a prison,” Basteren drawled over his third cup of caf. “The trick would be the extraction bit.”

“That might not be the case,” Cassian said. “With the level of security they’ve got in place, we’d probably have an easier time getting a Hutt to blend in with Wookiees. There will be many ways to disperse quietly, but only a few to get us in there in the first place.”

The complications ranged from the expertise needed to effectively forge personnel records to the likelihood that Vader would insist on guards with a mandatory length of experience for Bail Organa's guard force. Sources already in place had been able to smuggle out information, but having men on the ground was something that he would have preferred a little more time to arrange. The problem now was scrambling into ready status without tripping over themselves.

“Which is why this entire mission will be doomed from the start without my expert knowledge,” K-2SO interjected. If K-2 had been more humanoid, he might have puffed out his chest or tried to impersonate some kind of supernatural being. As it was, he stood ramrod straight and managed to look condescending. “It is likely to fail in a spectacular fashion, but I can see to it that you don’t embarrass me when you go out in a blaze of ignominy.”

Sefla snorted. “I was wondering when we’d hear from our optimist.”

K-2 probably took that as a personal insult, but was too busy painting himself as the hero of the Rebellion before they'd even talked about the budget for this op. “It is also inadvisable to use anyone with distinctive accents, striking physical characteristics or extensive criminal records.”

“Is that your way of saying Cassian’s bribed you to keep him out of the line of fire?” Calfor asked.

The squad never gave K-2 enough credit for his acute sense of sarcasm, but his bluntness was refreshing. “It is my way of saying that his history suggests he would do more harm than good.”

“My accent's not that distinctive,” Cassian protested. “I sound like I could be from anywhere in the Mid-Rim with a little bit of tweaking.”

Fest was Outer Rim territory, but as long as he didn't lengthen his vowels too much or swallow his consonants, he didn't sound like someone hugging the perimeter of the Galaxy. He had even broke himself of the habit of using some of the more infamously backwater slang.

K-2 turned optics in his direction and tilted his chin towards his chestplate. “Your accent is acceptable and it is unlikely that the Empire will casually come across the infractions committed under your various aliases, but I was referring to how absurd you look without facial hair.”

“Or with,” Calfor agreed. “Maybe we can get you a nice set of armor to hide behind.”

“Except he's too good at aiming to be a stormtrooper,” Paodok'Draba'Takat contributed.

Cassian waved for silence before tilting his own chin in K-2's direction. “And what do you mean more harm than good?” he challenged. “You mean my history of saving your dented backside?”

“I mean your propensity for ignoring protocol, taking unnecessary risks, and rewriting mission parameters on the fly,” K-2 pointed out. “Wecacoe, for instance.”

“You’re welcome, scrapmetal,” Cassian muttered. “If you really want to go back, I can give you another disagreeable personality. And High Command doesn’t have a problem with my creative approaches.”

“Three reprimands and two official complaints so far,” K-2 countered.

“None of which stopped me getting a promotion,” Cassian reminded him. “As for problematic, at least I’m not as boom-happy as Calfor.”

“We’re getting off-topic,” Melshi interrupted before their favorite demolitions expert could start defending his need for more grenades. “I agree that there are some of us who are more likely to raise questions than others if we were to be part of the insertion team. The good news is that we’d be asking them to save our hides in other ways even if they were the poster boys for the Imperial Academy.”

“Mefran's not going to get a lot of practice on wilderness combat unless our getaway is parked in the Manarais,” Cassian agreed, “but he'll be our location scout. This isn't a straight in and out, so he and two lucky souls will be heading in first to get us a formal base of operations, coordinate safehouses, and look into a few places to crash after a hard day's work.”

“House-hunting for civil disorder.” Mefran smirked. “Anyone who doesn't wait to be asked can have first choice of vermin-infested mattress.”

“Paodok'Draba'Takat and Calfor should be on arsenal duty,” Sefla recommended. “Hope we won't have to make any fireworks, but it wouldn't hurt to be over-prepared.”

As usual, Cassian saw no problems with that assessment. “As long as we're stating the obvious, I'll just assume you're in charge of vehicles.”

Sefla nodded before turning to K-2 with an unusually humble expression. “K-2SO is right that success or failure all depends on him.”

“I am glad you understand that,” K-2 said with a hint of skepticism, “but what brought you to that conclusion?”

“You're ex-security for the Imps,” Cassian said. “You can start by giving our brave new recruits a crash course in the official rules for corrections. You'll know where they need to be when and which enemies they should avoid making. If it weren't for your history of running your mouth off, I'd even stick you back in the line of duty.”

“Not without an obscenely large bribe to supplement the consulting fee I will be paid for giving our brave new recruits a crash course...”

“As soon as I have more than two credits to rub together,” Cassian promised. “You'll do it?”

K-2 turned to look around the conference table, undoubtedly weighing the merits of leaving any of them behind should things go badly enough. Cassian knew him well enough to suspect the answer, but did not press the issue.

“I will.”
*
No one from Lord Vader to the most junior guard had laid a hand on Bail Organa in weeks. He was given medical examinations and care on a regular basis and, while he was not permitted to leave his cell for meals, he was fed regularly. Other than a mild case of claustrophobia, there should have been nothing wrong with the man.

Nevertheless, the usual defeated weariness that Seth saw in most prisoners was amplified. Bail had lost no weight since Seth had insisted on some prisoner rights, but he sagged with exhaustion and his eyes were sunken. His examinations had reflected no respiratory problems or internal injuries, but he seemed to be incapable of taking deep breaths. He did not fidget, but he seemed restless.

“When was the last time you slept?”

“Last night,” Bail said curtly.

“When was the last time you slept for more than a few hours?” he rephrased as if dealing with an irascible witness.

Senator Organa had been a public figure long enough to know when he was unable to avoid a line of questioning, but the plain exhaustion manifest in the fact that it took him a second try to answer candidly. He blinked several times, then straightened his shoulders, but still curled in on himself slightly. The posture was to be expected if the man were living in constant fear of physical attack, but seemed out of place in the presence of his advocate.

“I am able to sleep,” Bail said quietly at last. “Restlessly, but I am not being kept from resting by any of the prison staff.”

“I'm glad to hear that,” Seth replied, “but you do not look well.”

“Am I to smile and look unconcerned?” his client muttered. “Feign arrogance for the staff? Use a bit of theatrical bravado?"

“No, that bravado is being reserved for your daughter.”

Bail did not deny it.

“I'm sure that there are many things troubling you,” Seth continued in the same muted tones, “but your rights allow you to seek counseling and, if necessary, medication. There's no harm in seeing that you are fit in all matters to stand trial.”

This time, when Bail adjusted his posture, his spine straightened and his chin lifted. It took another moment for him to look Seth in the eye for more than a few heartbeats, but he now seemed capable of problem-solving if not self-care.

“Counseling could be used as admissible evidence,” he said. “I'm hardly going to bare my soul and confess matters of Imperial interest, but your opposing counsel is the best the Empire has to offer and he or she will have the wherewithal to use any such sessions to their advantage.”

“And you think I am not equally as capable?”

They shared an almost-smile after which Bail's expression returned to a grimace and Seth's mouth thinned slightly.

“I am troubled, not for what I have done, but because I am not confident that the Empire's reconnaissance is limited to interviews and the discovery.”

This was an argument that pre-dated the Empire, when defendants would sometimes believe that the Jedi had tricked them into revealing incriminating evidence. By and large, such allegations had been false, but Darth Vader was no guardian of peace and justice. And if he had been one of the Old Republic Jedi, as the rumors suggested, he would have certainly been one to bend the regulations. Bail's claim was not something that could be proven or investigated, but it was not an unfounded concern where the Dark Lord was concerned.

“I have not dreamed of anything that could pique his interest,” Bail continued, “but I would not doubt his ability to delve deeper and with more determination.”

“But none of that would be admissible in court,” Seth said automatically. “There are statutes in place that would preclude the Empire from using what is equivalent to psychic hearsay. As it is, Lord Vader is not on the witness list.”

That had been a small mercy, but the prosecutor had seen no need for grandstanding. They both knew that this case would be won or lost on hard facts that had been previously only heard as rumors.

“Do you truly think the judge will not grant some leeway if the Emperor commands it?”

“I prefer to put my faith in the courts and in your innocence.”

The Organa family's sympathies were well-known and the circumstances surrounding the disarmament were as close as any sovereign court of a Core World planet had come to being openly prosecuted. Seth was not naive to what his client would have liked to do as far back as the Petition of the Two Thousand, but he also knew by experience and evidence how meticulously the royal house had kept their distance from the most radical opponents. The Empire could link him by association to Rebel activity, but it was up to the courts to decide how incriminating a sympathy could be.

“I don't know if Lord Vader is as invasive as you fear,” he mused, “but I would like you to be given a sleep aid for your own health. You will be better able to face the trial to come and that is more essential than chancing a nightmare.”

He feared for a moment that he would have to remind Bail of family obligations, but the impending queen of Alderaan was unsurprisingly never far from the man's thoughts. It was for Leia Organa's sake that Bail had striven to act prudently.

“Medication,” Bail responded. “No counseling, nothing on record beyond my physiological need for rest.”

“I'll mention it to your caretakers,” he promised. After a moment's hesitation, he proposed another balm: “Would you like to consult with a religious authority, then?”

Alderaan had been founded by a people seeking a place to put faith above industry and while the oldest remnants of the religion had died out over the millennia, devotion to the goddess of justice who had led the forefathers to that world had not. If anyone had need for trust in truth, it was Alderaan's most faithful son and the ritual of Release was not something that would be an unreasonable request. It was not counseling or confession, but ideally gave the supplicant a chance to express the needs of his soul and the obstacles that he or others had placed in his path. In releasing these things, the religion postulated that he would leave himself ready to receive mercy, absolution, or answers.

Bail seemed to understand the intention behind the question, because this time, he managed a small smile that was paired with a profound sorrow in his eyes.

“The gods already know my heart and my actions,” he said. “I have no need to know if they will forgive me.”

*

There were many ceremonial rituals associated with the transfer of power. Father had enacted the first in declaring his intention to elevate Leia to the throne. She had received the support of the thanes, who had seen to it that the coronation was scheduled and announced. Two days after that, the press corps had published the names of the Queen's Council, which ranged from Thane Verlaine as her right-hand man to Winter, her executive secretary. Invitations had been extended to leaders of allied worlds and responses came daily into the protocol office, though the future queen did not see more than a few of these. She signed off on all ceremonial arrangements, but left the accessories to those whose job it was to make the event one to remember.

Twenty days before the coronation, however, the royal flagship left Aldera on a course familiar to anyone who had ever journeyed on behalf of the state. Senator Organa had used the lesser Tantive IV as a diplomatic ship, so the last time the ship had left the atmosphere was on the last state visit that Queen Breha had completed before her death. It was a portentous journey, but one that most of the young Princess' advisors had cautioned against.

In the case of an heir apparent ascending to the throne immediately after a death, a vigil would have been kept at the tomb of her predecessor. She would have knelt and sought guidance during a long night and tradition held that those who had gone before would honor and bless her with wisdom in the quiet watches. Leia had spent the first night after accepting Bail's declaration waiting in the echoing chamber where Breha had been laid to rest, but spoke to no one of what she had learned there. She merely announced that she had a similar quest to undertake, which was yet to come. She had served her regent and viceroy since her mother's death, so it was out of love for Alderaan and her family that she boarded the royal vessel and instructed the pilot to set course for Imperial Center.

With the trajectory filed officially, their destination could not have been kept a secret for long and Leia had no intention of sneaking onto the capitol. In selecting the Queen's Council, she had hardly surrounded herself by sycophants who would automatically agree with her aims. She had, however, taken all concerns under advisement, amended procedures accordingly, and taken heart at the fact that most of them had understood her reasons for the pilgrimage.

Winter had been of the most use, since she had consulted precedents and given advice based on the massive amounts of information that she was capable of storing in her perfect memory. Father had once said that it was best to know all, but disclose little, and Winter had learned that lesson quite effectively. At one point, caught in a moment of apprehension, she had recited several pages of information on Leia's maternal grandmother's diplomatic envoy to the Republic Senate during Chancellor Valorum's term of service. When she was more composed, however, she had a hand in everything from Leia's wardrobe to the petition to visit a high-security prisoner of the Empire.

Seth, though a relatively new attorney, had proved himself a valuable resource in seeing that Viceroy Organa was treated with not only civility, but dignity. He saw to it that the petition was granted within hours of it being filed and well before liftoff. While they were in hyperspace, he fielded invitations according to her instructions and his own discretion. She was not on Imperial Center to attend receptions and make friends, so she would be accepting no elaborately-worded summons to one embassy or consulate.

There was only one proposed meeting that she could not turn down, but it was to take place nearly half a day after her appointment at the prison. It might have seemed like an insult to keep the future queen of Alderaan waiting for so long, but given the venue, half a day was an impressively or ominously short period.

Leia shunted speculation over the matter to the back of her mind as the ship touched down and had regained her focus by the time the ramp lowered. Winter would be departing separately to meet with representatives from the consulate, as Debas had restricted the number of visitors, but Leia was accompanied by four members of the Royal Guard and a four-guard team from the ambassadorial headquarters at Cantham House. She was reassured to see that Lord Vader or his patron had not graciously lent her a squad of stormtroopers and was equally relieved to find only familiar faces on the landing platform.

Seth was the first to approach, looking both relieved and excited. She knew it was not awe at her presence, so she presumed that he was looking forward to the morale boost that his client would receive from seeing a friendly face.

“Your Royal Highness,” he called in ringing tones, “it is an honor to receive you.”

Under different circumstances, she might have prepared remarks, but Leia had decided to be both genuine and improvising. “Counselor Setarn,” she responded, inclining her head slightly in response to his formal bow, “thank you for your welcome and your excellent service to the crown in these times.”

“I live to serve House Organa,” he said without a shred of guile. “May I present Judge Esio Turot?”

“Your Honor.” She felt the impulse to bow to him, but graced him with a smile instead. “Your tireless devotion to the laws of the Empire has won you the respect and gratitude of my family. May it serve justice well for decades to come.”

The man straightened from his own bow with a somber mien. “Your Highness, it is my privilege to uphold the statutes, but it is my honor to meet you.”

“The honor is mine,” she said.

She had to wonder why the prison was requiring such a retinue for a visiting dignitary, but she did not speak that thought out loud. It was best in enemy territory to disclose no lack of information.

“If you will follow me,” Seth invited, “we have a transport ready to deliver you directly to the facility.”

The transport was a spacious modified troop carrier from the late days of the Grand Army of the Republic, meant to hold battalions instead of a young woman and her bodyguards, but it would be less conspicuous than something Alderaanian. Leia settled into a seat and secured her restraints across her lap before daring to speak again. No matter what authority the men who had received her possessed here, they deferred to her and kept their silence as well.

“I trust that my father is well?”

“He is unharmed, as promised,” Seth responded immediately. “He has been experiencing troubled sleep for some days, but I have persuaded him to seek medical help for that.”

Leia was a restless sleeper and Mother had always said it was the way in which she most resembled her father; when there was unfinished business or a looming danger, neither Leia nor her father could be found escaping into dreams.

“And Lord Vader--”

“His interviews have stopped for now,” Seth reassured her. “Since I was retained as the Senator's counsel, all questions have been asked in my presence.”

She had never personally endured Vader's questioning—Bail had always stood between her and the Emperor's lieutenant—but she had been witness to less formal interrogations and there were few questions. There were commanding exhortations to provide information for which the questions were rendered unnecessary. She recalled thinking that under enough of Lord Vader's threats, a person could credibly be inspired to confess to every minor infraction from their childhood to the present day.

More troubling was the fact that Vader was known to have been a Jedi at one point. It was never safe to assume that he needed to verbally interact with a subject.

“Will he be involved in the trial?” she asked Turot.

“He provided the evidence needed for indictment, albeit after the arrest,” the man who had recused himself from the trial, but not his allegiance to the Organas, responded. “I doubt he will be called as a witness because he has little to contribute in the scope of testimony. Those with a more direct connection to the alleged crimes will be of more importance to the Imperial prosecutor's case.”

“And if he is called?” she addressed herself to Seth once more.

“I will claw his affidavit apart in search of reasons to have him excluded from the trial and if that is not enough, I will show no fear in the courtroom.”

“I know you will.” She turned back to the man who had dared the Empire to charge her father. “What is your role here today, Your Honor?”

“I am here in the unlikely event that there is a judicial hindrance to your planned meeting,” he said. “If they find a reason to revoke your visitation rights, they will not need to wait for a hearing to be scheduled. I doubt that I will need to convene a court of law or threaten Administrator Debas, but should you need a higher authority, I will be on hand.”

She doubted that he had made the trip just to stand by in case of an emergency. He could have accomplished the same objective over a secure comm channel. She could not be sure if he had volunteered to come or if Seth had anticipated an extraordinary amount of trouble at the prison.

“Since you will have the matter well in hand, I appreciate your wise counsel while we travel.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

The course plotted through the city had indicated a travel time of only five minutes and she wanted more information than judicial small talk, but delving deeper into the questions left unasked would leave her in a state of panic even before she set foot in an Imperial prison. She would have to leave the bulk of her inquiries for the return journey.

“How long will I have with my father?”

Seth's mouth twitched at the abrupt change in subject, but kept his expression stoic. “Your visitation has been granted for a period of six hours today,” he said. “I will be present at the time and provide a liaison between the officers of the prison and yourself. At the conclusion of that time, I would be happy to file a petition for another meeting on your behalf.”

She had spent dusk to dawn in attentive silence on Alderaan and this was much more likely to be an interactive experience. Nevertheless, she could not imagine being able to learn everything she needed to know in the course of six hours. Only the second meeting of the day could have persuaded her to leave after only a few hours. Given his eagerness to be of service, she would not be surprised if Seth had already drawn up the necessary document.

“Thank you.”

*
It was no surprise to find Leia in his dreams again. Bail had hoped to think of her in more idyllic situations, but the anxiety that never left during his waking hours infested his sleep almost nightly.

Vader was another common figure, for reasons that would have been clear to the most novice of psychology students, but tonight there was a new threat.

Leia's head was held high as she strode between two black-clad fleet troopers, but she drew up short at the sight of Grand Moff Tarkin. Even the presence of Darth Vader at her back could not compel her to keep her distance

“Governor Tarkin,” she greeted him archly as if he were an unexpected guest at a garden party, “I should have expected to find you holding Vader's leash. I recognized your foul stench when I was brought on board.”

Bail immediately balked at the twin insults to the most ruthless men in the service of the Emperor. This sort of audacity tended to emerge in his daughter when she was cornered and, thought this was a mere dream borne of his own terror, the threat implied in this scenario was undeniable. She was backed against a Dark Lord of the Sith, who had placed a hand against her back, but she seemed almost unaffected. Perhaps Vader had exhausted his cache of weapons and Tarkin was a greater threat. It would explain why Leia showed more fear of a mere regional governor than the man who could murder without bothering to lay a hand on her. There was pride to be felt that she could survive such things, but it was overwhelmed by the idea that she had suffered so much that Vader had resorted to letting Tarkin try his hand.

Tarkin, for his part, granted her a sepulchral smirk as he raised his hand. “Charming, to the last.” The hand clamped around her jaw as he cocked an eyebrow in evaluation. “You don't know how hard I found it, signing the order to terminate your life.”

Leia twitched her head to one side, freeing herself as she blithely replied, “I'm surprised you had the courage to take the responsibility yourself.”

As though she had remained silent, Tarkin continued with a mildly-delivered speech as he promenaded with his back turned insultingly towards the leader of Alderaan. “Princess Leia, before your execution, I would like you to be my guest at a ceremony that will make this battle station operational.” He turned abruptly with a severe confidence that reminded Bail of how imposing an orator he could be.

“No star system will dare oppose the Emperor, now.”

Leia could not have known how knownt he details of how wrong he was, but she spoke in soft tones as if soothing a child prone to hyperbole. “The more you tighten your grip, Tarkin, the more star systems will slip through your fingers.”

“Visitors,” a voice interrupted this confrontation.

Bail's eyes snapped open and he found himself staring, not at a tableau that must have formed from his darkest imaginations, but the irregularly-shaped stain on the ceiling. As usual, he sat up without hesitation, ready to confront whatever the Empire had in store for him today, and turned to greet the intruders.

Leia stood with her chin held high between two of the guards, her expression pinched, but her eyes full of tears that only he bore witness to.

He opened his mouth to speak, but found himself rushing to the in-cell toilet to be violently ill.

*
It took mere minutes for Father to recover from those first, terrific moments. The guards were not concerned or sympathetic to his apparent illness, which said more about Father's living conditions than the sagging mattress three paces from a toilet in one direction and six paces in another from a force field that was set to an intensity that could do significant damage to a man's cardiac function. They merely asked him if he would like an anti-emetic before applying binders to his wrists. She should have been grateful that they did not use the more popular stuncuffs and that they helped him with unexpected gentleness to his feet. But nothing could erase the memory of his initial horror at seeing her again.

They were led to a nondescript conference room that was just large enough for two of the corrections officers, two of the royal guard, Seth, Leia and Bail. Once the door was shut and secured, Father's manacles were removed and he stood in stupefaction. He had not looked on her again since vomiting in the cell, but he raised his eyes to her face for a long, evaluative look before closing them tight against an apparently unpleasant vision.

Perhaps he didn't recognize who she had become in his absence. Perhaps he had hoped to see someone else. The last time he had shown this aversion to looking on her face, she had impulsively come to the rescue of refugees and imperiled negotiations on the behalf of an entire world. It had been her first humanitarian mission after her Day of Demand and he had been ravaged by how effectively her kind heart had endangered millions.

Surely, he could not be thinking the same thing now.

“Your mother wore that gown when Alderaan was forced to disarm,” he said before she could attempt a greeting.

“I remember the holos.”

Leia did not have her mother's stature or implacable nature. She was more prone to sarcasm and speaking brutal truths, but she had borrowed this gown in memory of another time when an Organa had risked much for the good of all.

Father took a deep, shuddering breath and she saw beads of perspiration break out on his brow. She thought for a moment that he would be ill again in spite of the anti-emetic, but he exhaled after a long moment and opened his eyes.

“Hello.”

She responded with an embrace that the guards had agreed to in advance. They had required her to wait in a robe while they examined every inch of the gown. They had run her through several scans so that they probably knew not only that she was carrying no weapons, but whether or not the finger she had broken two years ago had healed properly. But they had agreed that she could greet her father physically for not more than five seconds. To her relief, he clung to her for each moment of that embrace and his trembling that accompanied the first second subsided by the fifth.

“Let us sit,” Father said as they broke apart.

Under ideal circumstances, she would have held this conversation in his office while curled up in her favorite chair, or in the family's private library, surrounded by the wisdom of millennia. Instead, they sat in old-fashioned chairs across an unremarkable table that was bolted to a rough floor. Leia flattened her hands against the skirt of her red velvet gown, but Father clasped his hands on the tabletop.

“My queen,” he greeted her.

“Future queen,” she corrected, “which is why I am here. It is my honor to seek wisdom from those who have gone before me.”

He was familiar with the custom. In the life-telling that had preceded Mother's funeral, he had recalled that before Breha's coronation, she had been given a night to seek the guidance of her ancestors and had not declared herself finished until the third night. Leia never knew what those ancients had told her mother, but it might have explained why she occasionally sounded less like Mother and more like Silara Panteer. Leia had wondered at the time if she would be able to become as wise if she spent a month in solitude.

“I hope you consulted with your mother,” he murmured.

“I did.”

“And what did you learn from her?”

She had hoped for an apparition and a lengthy lecture on the monarchy, but no such miracle had occurred. She had sat in darkness and harvested inspiration that she was not entirely sure had not come from herself. In the bleakest hours of that watch, she had wondered if the ancients of Alderaan would have shown her more regard if she were of their bloodline, instead of adopted. But that was an unworthy thought, so she had focused her mind and paid closer attention to the thoughts that entered her head.

“I learned that while she did her best to raise me to be a fine monarch of Alderaan, she was not the only instructor I had,” Leia explained. “In life, she entrusted my learning to you as well and it is clear to me that I will not be ready to sit on the throne until I have counseled with the man who ruled in her stead until I was prepared.”

She expected him to disagree, but he had addressed her as his queen and that formality, which looked to an outsider like a courtesy, mean that he was at her service. She could ask this great favor of him without expectation of refusal.

“Who is on your Queen's Council?”

“It is chaired by Thane Verlaine in recognition of how thoroughly he will advise me on the laws of Alderaan,” she recited. “I have asked Director Celchu of Novacom to be our Minister of Trade. Thane Mekthama will continue as the Minister of Security. Threkin Horm will oversee matters of the Home Guard...”

Father grimaced slightly at that name. The Horms were involved in spaceliner industry and naming him to oversee the only defense Alderaan had was tantamount to naming a chef to oversee agriculture. But the man had Imperial connections as well as a fierce dedication to Alderaan. She could endure a learning curve in exchange for that. Moreover, her father's unguarded reaction reassured her that he would be holding nothing back. He had no such distaste for her choice of Minister of State and Minister of the Interior.

“..And Winter, while not having a voting presence on the Council, will continue as my executive secretary,” she concluded.

“I look forward to seeing how they will shape the future of Alderaan,” Father said. “They will serve you faithfully without feeling the need to pander to you.”

It was something he had said in praise of her mother's finest councilors and she nodded in acknowledgment of the reference. “That was my intention.”

They sat in silence for some time and she was reminded that they most often refrained from speaking in each other's company when they were waiting on the input of a third party. But while Mother was something of a constant presence in both their hearts, her influence here was limited to memory.

Father seemed to recognize that as well, as he finally met her eyes with a steady gaze. “One thing that your mother told me of the monarchy was that she took the throne having been tutored in sweeping concepts of truth and justice, then was educated by her people in all the rest.”

“One of her first lessons was when the Caamasi came to her for help,” Leia recalled. “She learned very quickly who opposed her on principle and who would work against her instead of speaking out.”

Father could not help but chuckle at some memory, but the joy did not reach his eyes. “I am sure that you will discover such things without much effort,” he commented. “Had you been given the time to serve in the Imperial Senate, you would have learned that such distinctions are never limited to the royal court.”

“Do you regret that I am to follow in her footsteps rather than yours?”

“Only in the sense that I know your heart and how effective you would have been on behalf of the peoples of the Galaxy,” he stated. “I will never regret entrusting you with the people I have loved more than life.”

He often admitted to having this devotion and she had rarely been given cause to question it, but given the most severe punishment for his alleged crimes, she could not leave the expression unchallenged.

“I do not have the luxury of loving anything or anyone more than life,” she said. “A queen is to live and die for her people, but I must do my best to be immortal.”

“I know.”

His eyes added I'm sorry and she nodded in receipt of the message.

“What should be my guiding star under such circumstances, then?”

“Justice before all, all justice before self,” he quoted.

The phrase, borrowed from the sacred texts that had been brought with the founders to Alderaan, were as familiar as her own name, but it was several seconds before she could respond calmly.

“There must be self until there are others to carry on the line.”

“Of course,” Father replied, his hands clenching so his knuckles tightened. “This is not the first time such things have been taken into consideration.”

A whisper swept through the room, though she could not be sure who had heard it. Perhaps only those who were listening for Breha's counsel overheard such a memory. "I survived for us. I survived it for a child, for a future of Alderaan. I survived for nothing.” And then, an echo of the man who sat before her. "The child you love doesn't have to be the one you carried.”

“I know,” she echoed his earlier comment.

They held each other's attention for another long moment, but Mother had nothing further to contribute for the time being. Leia did not look away because it was the first time in too long that she had looked into the soul that she had longed to reflect for as long as she had been aware of his profound nobility.

“All justice before self will mean what it did when our first fathers came to Alderaan,” Father said. “Every law and every decision was established in mind of what good it served. All justice before self does not mean that you must be willing to die for your people. It means that as you live, you must live to put the good of Alderaan before any personal concerns or priorities. Alliances made, compromises reached, decisions handed down-- all of these will serve justice if you are the ruler I know you are capable of being.”

This time, Liea kept her silence because her voice would have cracked if she attempted to speak. Between them passed the familiar love that she had never had true cause to doubt, but also a sense of gratitude. She could not imagine what he had cause to thank her for, but the impression was not one that she could deny.

“This is not meant to be a last conversation,” she said quietly. “I am not here because I believe you will not return to us.”

“It is not,” Father agreed, “but you came to me as a student. In mere weeks, you will have no need of a teacher.”

“You know that is not true,” she protested. “I will always have need of--”

“A father,” he finished for her. “You will be your own instructor and your heart will be your wisest councilor. It will always be my privilege to be your first tutor, but all students must move on to a higher form of education and I do not begrudge you that progress. No teacher worth the title would wish for even their favorite pupil to remain under their care indefinitely.”

Her hands had remained in her lap, clenching and flattening at various points without her taking much notice, but Leia stretched her fingers now and lifted her arms so she could easily reach across the table. No one in the room objected when she clasped hands with the finest professor she could have ever imagined.

“Then, while I still consider myself your student, let us talk of what cannot be learned by mere experience.”

*
They parted at the mandated time, never having exhausted the avenues of conversation. Not all moments were lectures, but father and daughter, Regent and Princess had felt no shame in allowing themselves to speak on whatever topic came to mind. The result had been a mixture of fond memories, grim recollections, cautionary tales, impassioned exhortations and the sharing of a legacy.

This was not to be their last conversation—if nothing else, prisoner rights ensured that they would speak at least twice before her coronation—but they parted as though each were being sent to different theaters of a great war.

Leia had been as confined as her father for those six hours, but found that the air outside her father's presence felt more oppressive. Imperial Center was known for its sudden storms, but she doubted that an impending thunderstorm was to blame for the almost nervous energy that she felt in the wake of the conference. Judge Turot and the guards who had remained outside had been joined by Winter and Leia immediately silenced any of her friend's questions with a quick dip of her chin. Winter nodded in return and fell into step with her as they returned to their vehicle.

“Your Highness,” Guardsman Nalier interrupted her thoughts as they reached the transport, “we have received word from Lord Pestage.”

She turned immediately in his direction, trying to keep her expression neutral. “What is the Vizier's message?”

“His Majesty the Emperor would be pleased to receive you within the hour,” he reported.

So there would be no prolonged wait to discover why she had been summoned to the court. She immediately thought of the possibility that he was hoping to have her detained earlier than usual, but if he had meant her any immediate harm, that could have been accomplished at the prison. Or perhaps he wanted a spectacle.

“I believe my schedule permits such a change,” she said with a glance at Winter.

“It certainly does,” Winter answered. “If you wish it, I will request an earlier departure window.”

“Thank you,” Leia said, “but I do not wish to disrespect His Imperial Majesty by imposing a time limit. I advise that we make such a decision once the audience has concluded.”

Taia-willing, it would be a brief courtesy visit in which she would observe the custom of paying deference to her supreme leader and he would vaguely threaten her in honeyed tones. It was what she had come to expect from all levels of Imperial officials, but there was a chance that the threats would be less ambiguous and the courtesy visit would include marching orders on pain of death.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

It did not take an hour to cross the city, but by the time she had been cleared through security and ushered through various offices and antechambers to the throne room itself, she was fortunate to arrive on time. By the time Lord Pestage guided her past the red-clad guards who stood as silent sentinels, she had been deprived of her entourage as well. Winter was the last to be left behind, as there was no reason for a secretary to sit in on a royal audience. Leia was wearing a heavy gown imbued with decades of history and the crown of the heir apparent, but she felt suddenly naked.

The throne stood at the top of a short staircase, a simple fixture that made Alderaan's seat of power look unnecessarily elaborate, but the man perched on it was anything but simple. He wore rich robes with the cowl raised so that most of his scarring was concealed, but the eerie gleam of his yellowed eyes followed her from the moment she entered the throne room.

“Young Organa,” he mused with something of a smirk, “it is so good of you to join us.”

She could not tell if the room had been acoustically designed to amplify the voice of the person on that throne or if he merely had an effective speaking voice, but she had no difficulty in hearing it across the space. Leia mounted the stairs with unhurried steps and immediately curtsied—even a queen would have to defer to the Emperor and she was as yet a crown princess—before waiting for a signal.

“You may rise,” Palpatine granted lazily. “And Lord Pestage may take his leave.”

That left the guards in place as though she posed a real threat, but they were inconsequential compared to the man standing behind the throne. She spared Lord Vader only a glance and a nod, as if she had not confronted him in half a dozen nightmares over the last month. Had he chosen to do so, he probably could have browsed through the contents of her fears and found him featured prominently. She was not here for Vader's benefit, but at the behest of the only man he bowed to.

“I am honored to come before you,” Leia responded as she returned her attention to Palpatine. “And I am grateful that you welcomed me so soon after my arrival.”

His expression twisted slightly and she wondered if this was the closest the Emperor came to bestowing a benevolent smile. “The last time a monarch of Alderaan came to Alderaan, you were but a small child. Queen Breha was here on official business, but it did not escape my notice that she took particular pride in her daughter.”

Leia had been five years old at the time and as she recalled, Breha had visited Imperial Center to formalize a series of agreements. That was the official explanation, but she had taken time to pay her respects to the Emperor and to publicly proclaim the loyalty of the High Court of Alderaan to its Imperial masters. Since it had been just over a year since the near-catastrophic circumstances that had necessitated a disarmament, Breha had felt that it would ensure peace and stability for some time. Undoubtedly, Leia had been “invited” here to see if she would show the same wisdom.

That thought had taken too much time and the two men were still regarding her, but Leia had promised herself that she would not set her mouth to auto-pilot when within striking distance of the man responsible for the Purges.

“How may I be of service, Your Majesty?” she asked in subdued tones, lowering her eyes to the floor for just a moment.

“My dear child, you are well aware of the service I require,” Palpatine said. “You are your mother's daughter.”

“I am also my father's heir,” she reminded him.

This time, the expression was sneering rather than benevolent. The man clearly enjooyed telegraphing opinions in a way that would leave no room for speculation in matters of great concern. She should have been prudent enough to feel fear, but the last months had taught her to wait for more input before committing to an emotion.

“Your father is awaiting trial for treason. You are young, but I do not believe you are foolish. There is no dishonor in honoring a heritage, but I would advise you to take care in claiming a legacy.”

The threat was as much a test as inviting her here had been. A princess under her father's protection and regulation might have tested the waters by taking a stand against this man, but she was to be the custodian of an entire planet and in accepting her father's abdication as regent, she had determined to stand on her own in her actions.

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a slight shift in Vader's posture, but he made no further movement. She could not jump at every wraith in the shadows or Sith behind the throne, as it were. “I am my father's heir as a woman who will dedicate her life to justice and her people.”

“Alderaan is a planet with high ideals and an intention to promote peace,” Palpatine remarked. “As your coronation approaches, I hope you will consider well what justice will promote peace.”

“That is my goal,” she vowed solemnly.

“And should peace in the wake of your father's reign be a long time in coming, rest assured that your Emperor stands ready to assist,” he continued. “All eyes are on Alderaan in these troubled times, but if Lord Vader must step in, he has my command to do so.”

It was the closest to an overt threat that he had spoken and she instinctively looked to the tyrant in question. He was once more motionless and the only sound in the room was his echoing breath. She tore her eyes away with difficulty, since he had no direct part to play in this diplomatic conversation.

“I thank you for your attention and your concern,” she said, despising the slight rasp in her voice. After another moment, she spoke with more confidence. “What is it that I might do for you, Your Majesty?”

“Rule Alderaan as I might.”

Her stomach twisted painfully, but she curtsied briefly. “You are a man of far-reaching vision, Your Majesty.” As my father is. As I must be. “I will do my best to see that every choice I make considers the long-term benefits and consequences for every person under my stewardship.”

“All justice before self, as your first fathers intended,” Palpatine said.

The nearly-verbatim recitation of her father's words caused another spasm somewhere under her ribs and from the way his thin mouth stretched into a leer, he was well aware of that.

“In service to all peoples of the Empire,” she agreed.

It was not the oath of subservience he had probably hoped for, but it was a clear-cut declaration that she would not be waging a war. If he demanded more...

“I will follow your career with great interest, young Organa,” he murmured. “May you have safe travels back to Alderaan.”

Leia did not flee from his presence, but her feet seemed encased in duracrete as she left the throne room.
*
Mefran was best suited to finding his way through a wilderness, but he and his team worked wonders on a tight schedule. Cassian's squad arrived on Imperial Center on four different ships under a variety of false identities to find that they had a place to sleep for the night and food in the pantry of each apartment. The General hadn't been able to scrape together that much in funding, so Mefran had to have called in a few favors, but it was not his place to ask for details.

The next morning, however, none of them had a reason to feel hopeful about the mission.

“She arrived about four hours ago,” Sefla reported as the holo of Princess Leia flickered out of existence.

“Where'd you get this footage?”

“Body cam on one of the guards on duty,” Sefla said.

“We're that close?”

Basteren leaned forward to cue the holo again and watched as the princess embraced her father for a full five seconds. She moved out of view for several seconds before the guard repositioned himself. It was the most direct view of Leia Organa caught on holocam since the announcement of her impending coronation and according to the timer, they would have six hours of such a view.

“It was luck,” Sefla admitted. “Our point man is on a rotating duty and he happened to be called upon during this exceptional circumstance. I doubt we'll be that lucky in the next few days.”

“No, but this is great for us.”

“Once again,” K-2 scoffed, “you are ignoring long-term implications in the face of instant gratification.”

“Probably,” Basteren said, “but what's so bad about having an ally like this?”

“The problem isn't with the man, but with the visit,” Cassian guessed. “If we leave any evidence behind that our arrival was around the same time as that of the Queen of Alderaan, Darth Vader will take that coincidence and run with it.”

“Then we don't give him the chance,” Basteren decided.

“It means that the best people for the deepest level of infiltration are the ones who have some history here,” Cassian continued as if the other man hadn't spoken. “Also ones without known ties to Alderaan. That rearranges our priorities and we don't have the time for that to happen more than once.”

“We don't have time for much of anything to go wrong,” Melshi interjected. “We were short on time before this and now there are fewer risks that we can take. That should make K-2 happy.”

“Nothing about this makes me happy,” K-2 snapped. “If we were on any other world, I could have saved the day by impersonating one of the security droids, but on Organa's block, there are no droids allowed.”

“Doesn't mean you can't make a valuable contribution,” Cassian countered, running a hand slowly over his chin.

“How did she get in?” Calfor asked. “I know there are vising hours, but she got six hours uninterrupted.”

“She had sovereign privilege and a lawyer,” Cassian pointed out. “It's not something we can forge.”

“But it's something we can use,” Melshi pointed out. “If we can't flood the prison with conveniently-allied guards, we can move into position using other reasons for being there.”

“I volunteer for the role of humble cleaning lady,” Basteren said. “K-2 can be my sassy sidekick.”

“Too basic, but I like where you're going,” Cassian said before K-2 could offer to inflict physical harm on anyone. “By the time Princess Leia heads back to Alderaan, I want at least three plans that anticipate a few more worst-case scenarios. The mastermind behind the best one doesn't get assigned to stall Darth Vader.”

 

A lot of pieces moving here, but nothing major happening. Still, it's an effective way to build the suspense.

I had chills running down my spine at Leia's audience with the Emperor. If only he knew that she was Vader's daughter...

 

I’m having lots of fun giggling at something here. And this is a bit like one of those TV shows where just before a huge shift, everyone is just preparing for the change without being conscious of it. @kateydidnt will understand, mostly because she came up with what’s happening soon and it was the entire premise of the story.

 

@DarthIshtar -- your portrayal of Leia continues to be fantastic! Her poise with Palpatine was wonderful. Bail's dreams of her, full of Tarkin and dread,

Seth instills in me great confidence as he works in Bail's behalf.
The scene between Bail and Leia was moving and I feel they said all they could and provided emotional support as well.

 

Don't apologize. This is fantastic!

Brings new meaning to Leia calling Han 'scruffy-looking' in ESB.

Ah, K-2SO! I loved you in Rogue One. One of the most memorable characters by far!

Good thing Face Loran isn't in your continuity, Cassian. ;p

You're not a real rebel unless you've got reprimands!

Well, being under imperial 'care' will wear down anyone. Poor guy.

Oh yeah. He 'bent' them all right.

Leia Organa has no time for yes-beings! She wants the bad news now so she can fix the bad news!

Is Winter part of Disney canon? Either way, always glad to see her.

Aww, that's our Leia.

She must never get a good night's sleep, then.

I think that's supposed to be 'known'

Let's be honest, not mocking him is probably the height of civility for them. And 'living', there.

I remember him from before. I never could figure out if he died in Tattooine Ghost.

That's because the Organa's are men and women of the people! Excellent bit of characterization, there.

You already are.

Sorry, Bail, but you're wrong. the wise man knows nothing, the fool everything.

I think he was born with an evil sneer.

No, no. That would be bad!

like father, like daughter...

Fantastic chapter, Ish! Great bits of characterization, here. Just wonderful.

 

I know I proposed a schedule when I posted, but then I got sick for a month, moved, and just crawled out of being continually miserable last week. This afternoon, Bail and Obi-Wan got into an argument in my head and that led me back here, of course. I'll give you some explanatory fanon that will clarify something in this story in the meantime while I get some more written. A reader asked me about these prophetic dreams that Bail keeps having. In several of my stories, I have incorporated my philosophy that the Force can communicate with the sensitive as well as the blind when such communication helps further the will of the Force. I used it several times in To Cast Away Stones, when Leia kept having dreams of the events of episode 3 while time-traveling to that era. Here, the Force is trying to arm Bail against Vader in a way that will focus his choices.