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

No worries, ish. I'm glad you're doing better. Can't wait to see this fanon.

 

I hope you also get better soon. For this is a very elegant and eloquent fic, blending the religion, language, politics and tradition of Alderaan together.

Sorry for not always leaving a comment and even lurking around when not being logged in, but online time has become a seldom occasion for me. Real life has a lot of demands and they keep coming.

And sometimes great and long comments from other users always scare me off, because I keep thinking: "What could a stupid oaf like me possibly add?"

I am good at encouraging wee kids, colleagues & friends, but I never seem to have the right words for doing the fanfic of others justice. (Plus my own unworthy writing.)

Your fic here has so many layers, enchants like an episode of the Netflix series "The Crown". Its a marvellous and elegant journey you have put us on, even though it has dark undercurrents in it.

I hope my new job, my family duties, my tasks as a godmother, my RL friends (such as Cem_Fel visiting me next weekend) & my many visits to the Harz Mountains for "Shinrin Yoku" moments will not keep me to busy these days to comment here and there.

 

This response both makes me really happy and makes me think aaaaaaagh, you’re all going to hate me when we get to the sequel.

 

I do not hate so quickly. A sith would suck at education and childcare.

 

Lol, I’m now getting fanfic ideas based on that. But you may have your paradigm shifted.

 

Author’s note: I really wanted to post something for one reader’s birthday, but I couldn’t get it to wrap up satisfactorily. Then I found myself a month later and still unable to get it right. Today is my 18th anniversary here at TF.N (I found the boards on 3/20/01, but I didn’t register until 3/26) and I’m posting something that I’ve been intending to work into the story as part of the next post. I was making plans recently for September and checking if I could find a substitute for my volunteer work. Then I realized that those plans are made for two weeks after my two years are done. It’s been an awesome experience to work at Temple Square two days a week, but I will have positive feelings about what comes next. I am looking forward to using some of my free time to get seriously moving on fanfic again. In the meantime, hope you enjoy this flashback that made me watch thirty-two seconds of Revenge of the Sith six times..

*

In the death throes of the Republic, there was no time to recover from individual wounds. Each of the calamities could have been considered a mortal blow. He had risked everything to preserve the Republic, only to witness its obliteration. The Jedi Order had provided him with allies as well as kindred spirits, but he had been powerless to even intervene in its destruction. He would have willingly given his life for any one of the Senators on the Loyalist Committee, but he had not been the one to ease Padme Amidala’s passage from anguish into eternal rest.

He had done everything in his power to never see these dark days come, but in the darkness of his failure, he did what little he could to control some of the damage: he secured landing permits for a shuttle from the Tantive and a private starship of Naboo registration at an obscure outpost known as Polis Massa. He held Padme’s hand between both of his while the Jedi consulted with the medical droids, though she was rarely lucid enough to notice that he was there. When she cried out and begged for mercy in her delirium, he hummed a lullaby that he remembered from his own childhood. He mistook her gradual calm for peace when he should have recognized that she was fading fast.

In most situations, he had shown his respect for the Jedi by addressing them by their titles. Master Yoda and Master Kenobi showed the same deference by calling him Senator Organa. At Polis Massa, they were on a first-name basis, not because there was no Order or Republic to grant those titles, but because they were bound as tightly by hopeless grief as any family in mourning would be.

There was much to decide in the wake of Padme’s death, but none of them could turn their attention immediately to such things. Obi-Wan seemed reluctant to hand the children over to the care of the droids; he had been closer than a brother and not quite a father to the man who would have cherished them; in a vastly different life, might have been permitted to consider them part of his own family. Because he had been forced to turn his back on his Padawan and had been unable to save the closest thing he had to a daughter-in-law, Obi-Wan only relinquished his contact with them when the children needed rest and feeding. It was only then that he accepted food for himself, though he was unable to keep it down for long.

Yoda was less demonstrably affected. It might have been eight centuries of loss that had tempered his ability to feel grief or perhaps he had anticipated that such calamitous breaches of the Jedi way would lead to tragedy. Obi-Wan was consumed by his horror, but Master Yoda responded to this loss of control by tacitly asking him to help prepare the body for transport and then meditate with him.

Bail was blind to the Force that they served, so could not join in the meditation. Had he been at home, he would have confided in his wife or sought the help of a priest, but on this remote outpost, he honored a fallen friend with his own world’s prayers for the dead. He did not cloud his mind with the traditional Alderaanian green wine. He was not overtly religious, but he was a traditionalist and put his faith in what Alderaan stood for. He had called on Alderaan’s patron goddess of justice when those he most loved were called home from the long journey of life and that felt fitting for Padme, but rather than call the prayers out in the privacy of his room, he had stood watch over her children and whispered his hope and faith in the presence of her legacy.

The prayers traditionally begged the departed to guide those left behind, but Bail placed special emphasis on a more personal aspect. He sought that guidance under the assumption that the powers that were would grant his request, but when he came to a vow to safeguard the faith of the person he mourned, he repeated the vow four times with a different intention in mind each time. He thought of others who might be audacious enough to still stand against tyranny. He decided to remain in the office of Senator no matter what madness came under Palpatine’s Empire. His thoughts turned to ways in which he could make Alderaan a safer haven for the oppressed.

Finally, he spoke that vow with his whole heart turned to thoughts of what he could do for Padme’s children.

*
The conference room was sterile and impersonal as the medical center had been on Polis Massa, but the three guardians of the Skywalker family had shed their all-consuming guilt and paralyzing grief behind when they set course for Naboo. It was never stated that they must move forward, but it was a necessary separation from their vulnerability.

The Tantive IV conference room was a place for negotiations and peace-brokering, but today, it was the place for marching orders in the war against the darkness. None of them met each other’s gaze, but Bail and Obi-Wan allowed the erstwhile Jedi Order’s most experienced Master to take command of the situation.

“Hidden...safe the children must be kept,” Yoda said to himself, his eyes turned towards Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan lowered the hand that had been stroking his chin, but kept his gaze downcast. “We must take them somewhere where the Sith--” His eyes glanced up with a sudden focus. “--Will not sense their presence.”

Yoda passed one gnarled hand over his scalp and rubbed at a spot behind an ear, then grunted in assent and turned instead to Bail. “Split up, they should be.”

There was no request or demand in the statement, but Bail’s first act of fatherhood was a leap of faith and he responded immediately. “My wife and I will take the girl,” he promised.

In his last vow of vigilance, he had remembered countless conversations about the children that Breha had longed for through countless treatments and tests. He had no trouble recalling that she had looked on thousands of children who had been deprived of everything and yearned to bring one of them into the safety of their home. All three of the men in this room had taken their turn caring for both of the children on the journey from Polis Massa, but while he felt a tenderness for Padme’s firstborn son, he had found himself thinking of how Leia would flourish under Breha’s care and Bail’s tutelage. There was no concrete reason for him to think of her as his, but every train of thought had welcomed her into the incomplete part of the royal family. Perhaps it was because of one recurring thought that Breha had voiced.

“We’ve always talked of adopting a baby girl,” he explained.

They returned his gaze and Obi-Wan even nodded in solemn approval; it might have been the objective of this conference from the moment that Yoda had called for it. Since he was answerable to both of them, he felt the need to go one step further and make a promise that he could never break.

“She will be loved with us.”

 

Happy anniversary! And what a lovely gift you've given us. A nice look at that scene from Bail's point of view.

 

Happy anniversary !!! And what a sweet post/flashback.

 

With such a flood of negative and troubling influences, I needed to use this to set up some later things.

 

Happy yet belated anniversary wishes from me, too.

 

A/N: Ah, where to start? Well, happy birthday to Kateydidnt. I will be updating this much sooner than you all expect because we have gotten past the point of "Well, crap, I'm not sure how to write this one part on which hinges this story and the next one." By the way, did I mention there is going to be a next story? It's called Hearts of the Children and the stakes there will be insane. You'll understand some of why by the end of this post, but you probably haven't any idea as to the plot point that started this entire story. That's coming in the chapter after this. Easter eggs you might notice if you've been reading my stuff for a while. Jas Dewon from the Wife of Deceit series. H-Gen-42 hospital from that same series. Leia's dress being based on Elzizabeth I's coronation dress. The provincial colors of Alderaan from To Cast Away Stones. Judge Khatarn from Lest Ye Be Judged. Oh, and thanks go to hours and hours of chasing neurology around the internet and medical journals and the paragraphs of planning that I literally wrote out on my phone at dinner one night in Europe because it finally made sense to me and I couldn't wait to get back to my laptop. If there are errors in medical stuff, I blame that I became a writer instead of a doctor and I did the best I could. I even have a medical section in here inspired by me nearly having an ER visit after getting a concussion. But I'm serious when I say I'll update soon because Sith is about to get real.
*
“Has a medic been to see my father?”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Seth responded with deferential patience as though he had not heard the inquiry every time she made contact. Leia suspected that this had less to do with patience and more to do with the patriotic respect she ought to be shown as the next monarch. “Your father was examined and found to be in good health yesterday at the mandate of the courts and the grace of the prison administrator.”

That was something Leia might have understood by reading a daily report or viewing a holo, but she had not asked for a clinical summary. He looks tired was her first observation, but that was something that could be explained by the stress of his imprisonment, Vader or no.

“He is not being mistreated.” Seth took a deep breath and consulted his notes. “He complained of headache and blurred vision during an examination four days ago and tests indicated that his blood pressure was elevated The prison medic adjusted his medication accordingly and he has reported an improvement in those symptoms. This close to the trial, the guards are being particularly vigilant about his ability to answer for his alleged crimes.”

Leia let out the breath she had been holding and nodded in thanks for the more complete accounting. “That is some comfort.”

“I hope so, Your Highness.”

With that business out of the way, she squared her shoulders and fixed him with a direct gaze over the Holonet connection before issuing a kind of rallying cry. “The hopes of our people are with you today,” Leia announced. “May Taia guide your actions and carry your words to those who are charged with upholding justice.”

His head dipped towards his chest as soon as she began the exhortation. Were he there in person, she would have rested a hand on his shoulder during the royal blessing. It would have been recorded officially in the court archives as Father's official transfer of power had been. She might have formalized the invocation of Taia by speaking in the goddess' chosen language. But across many lightyears and a secure connection, she felt no need to be so stiff in her demeanor. She particularly viewed it as unnecessary to do so when it was 0800 on Imperial Center and just after 0300 in the Palace.

“Alderaan's people thank you,” she concluded quietly, “and you have my personal thanks for every word you will speak on behalf of the justice that my father has served for the entirety of his life.”

“I will do my best through faith in justice and the innocence of your father to set his feet on the path to freedom,” he responded.

She yearned to give him more specific instructions, but there was certainly a time and place to hover and the day of the arraignment was not one of those hours. She had spoken to her father the night before and nothing needed to be said just now. Seth would doubtless report her exhortations as well as her vigilance to his client and it would be a second-hand method of sending her love.

“Counselor, I will leave you to your excellent work,” she said.

“Thank you, Your Highness,' he replied.

By protocol, he did not sever the connection. After a word of farewell, she tapped the button that would end the call and sank back in her chair. With the mask of the monarch set aside, she should have felt more at ease, but her mind once again listed the ways in which the signs of hypertension might escalate into something more serious. Surely, the medic's intervention and the subsequent improvement meant that she was not the only one concerned about a deterioration in her father's condition.

After all, there were more things than a Sith lord that could cause harm to Father.

Winter greeted her outside the comm suite with a curtsy and a grim smile. “Your schedule is clear until afternoon,” she reported. “I will wake you half an hour before the arraignment.”

Leia did not bother to disagree with the proposed itinerary. Much as anxiety disrupted her sleep, the preparations for the coronation demanded extraordinary energy and she willingly let her oldest friend dictate her attempts to rest more often. Because her people needed a leader in good health, she had even accepted the help of a mild tranquilizer to alleviate the occasional attacks of anxiety that attended daily reminders of how perilous the Organa family situation was. Word of the fact had not reached the press, but even if they found something objectionable about her methods for coping with leadership of the world, she surmised that they would have greater objections to the future ruler collapsing from exhaustion.

This morning, however, she had no need of the sedative. Her dreams were uneasy before Winter visited next, but it took little effort to escape into temporary oblivion.
*
There were few topics of conversation that fell between the extremes of small talk and inappropriate frankness when standing in a turbolift of the Hall of Justice. The guards were a silent reminder that every word could be exploited, but this was also not the time to raise matters of urgency.

Nevertheless, Bail let Seth choose the first subject and the defense attorney “Your daughter asked after your well-being,” Seth reported.

Bail smiled slightly in perception of what went unsaid. “I'm sure she did. Might I ask after her well-being?”

“It is more difficult to obtain medical records for her,” he said. “The official news channels say she is bearing up well and I would agree with that. She is clear-headed today, but I expect nothing less of the woman you raised.”

“Single-minded,” Bail corrected. The smile disappeared from his lips, but there was no mistaking the melancholy pride that Seth often saw in his client's eyes. He may have been a politician for all of his adult life, but he was a father who mourned at the burdens he could not carry for his only daughter. “She is clear-minded as a rule, but single-minded in a crisis. It is a virtue learned from her mother.”

Seth had grown up seeing the late queen in her declining years. The miracle that had been Princess Leia had given her new life and purpose, but it was a sad truth that Breha Organa was not meant to grow very old on her throne and she had, indeed, worked as though she had no time for distractions. Perhaps that was the spirit that Princess Leia had invoked in this morning's comm.

“You have trusted Her Royal Highness with your world and she has trusted me with your freedom,” Seth stated. “We will follow her example and be just as focused from this moment onward.”

Before Bail could render an opinion on that, the lift shuddered gently to a stop and the doors opened. The whir of holocams immediately filled the air as the entire corridor came into focus under the harsh lights. Seth blinked twice to clear the spots from his vision, but was forced to quicken his step as Bail strode fearlessly forth. It was the first time in days that he seemed to carry himself with the same sense of purpose that had been captured in holo during his time as a Senator and Seth smothered a smile of his own as they headed for the courtroom.

While the Emperor had graciously allowed this legal proceeding, he did not allow it to be a spectacle. Rather than allow a large gallery with upper levels for additional attendees, the order had come to convene the trial of The People of the Empire vs. Bail Organa in a space just larger than a judge's chambers. It was meant to instill a sense of personal responsibility, but the effect was somewhat claustrophobia-inducing.

Seth nodded solemnly at the man who was already awaiting the judge's convenience at the prosecution's table. Jas Dewon afforded him a curt nod in return, but did not spend a moment inspecting the prisoner. A Corellian who had been an opponent of lenient sentences since the days when the Emperor had been a Chancellor, he was a predictable choice for Seth's opposite number, but was the human embodiment of grandstanding rather than Vader's presence as an intimidating figure. The Empire wanted to seem stern rather than sadistic and Dewon was an ideal figure in that plan.

All thought of the Empire seeming reasonable was belied, however, by the man who emerged from the judge's chambers a moment later.

“All rise,” the bailiff called. “This session of the Imperial Court of Justice is in session. All who have business with this court, stand forth and your case will be heard.”

Heard, but not well-received.

Once Judge Turot had recused himself for a conflict of interest, Judge Khatarn had calmly accepted the appointment. Dewon was a staunch Imperial loyalist, but Khatarn had overseen the brutal justice characteristic of the early days of the Empire, when an atmosphere of fear allowed greater capacity for merciless rulings and verdicts without due process.

The Empire promised Bail Organa a fair trial of the kind that had not been afforded Jedi and Separatists and suspected Rebel sympathizers in the aftermath of the Clone Wars, but the players in this game were the same. It had been the inspiration for many uneasy conversations among those who hoped to return the Senator of Alderaan to his homeworld.

In short, he would need every blessing that Leia Organa had offered him mere hours ago. Seth stood tall with faith in the goddess of justice and hoped that she was still as vigilantly watching over the v'taiaketh as the priests claimed.

“The case before this court is that of The People of the Empire vs. Bail Organa,” Khatarn recited. “Let it be entered into the record that the defendant and both counselors are present as well as His Majesty the Emperor's legal authority, Judge Khatarn.”

The solitary holocam that was transmitting was the sole source of noise for a long moment. Khatarn glanced between the men before him as though contemplating the next move in a dejarik game where he was confident of a victory. His expression was unreadable in that moment, but it did not change when he spoke next.

“Bail Organa, stand forth and be judged.”
*
Father did not look as though his symptoms had improved. While he had entered the courtroom with a stalwart demeanor, the fatigue that she remembered from each comm was etched into his face and his breaths seemed to be shallow, if not slightly labored. Perhaps he was simply feeling the acute anxiety that plagued Leia at times, when no amount of reassurance or logic could allow her to breathe easily.

She leaned forward slightly as Father clasped his hands in front of him, but there was no other clear sign of distress.

“Bail Organa...”

He was appearing without honorifics or titles and the words scraped against her ears.

“You are charged with treason, conspiracy to commit treason, sedition, aiding and abetting in the murder of Imperial citizens, and crimes of espionage including the gathering and transmission of defense information, and harboring persons who have committed or are about to commit treason.”

The only charges permitted were ones for which the prosecution was able to provide proof and the list itself, while seeming to hold her responsible for every perceived threat to the Empire, was blood-chilling.

“How do you plead?”

“Not guilty on all counts,” Father answered automatically.

“There is to be no bail set due to the severity of the crimes and the risk of flight...”

Leia barely heard the remainder of the expected words. The shortness of breath had been more noticeable before and after his response and it seemed to cost him some effort to enter his plea in the court record. Whatever Seth said, this could not be the demeanor of a man with a clean bill of health.

“We will reconvene in eight days time, at which opening statements will be heard and the prosecution should be prepared to call its first witness.”

“We will be prepared, Your Honor,” Dewon responded.

“As will the defense,” Seth added.

Father remained silent, but he straightened his posture slightly as if returning to himself. By the time the time of the next hearing was set, she had noticed that his breathing seemed to be easier and the tightness in her own chest lessened slightly.

Leia did not receive more than a “We are having him examined” message that morning, but by the time she began a meeting with the incoming Minister of Education, Winter had sent a brief message to her datapad with a comm code originating in Seth's office.

Your father experienced fatigue and shortness of breath during the hearing. He is being kept in the prison infirmary for observation tonight.

There was no comfort in this new information, but it was a mild reassurance to know that Seth was responding to alarming developments before she could even mention them. Winter was not scheduled to attend the afternoon's audiences, but sat in nonetheless. Leia received no more communiques, but her aide's attention to the matter was the most steadying influence she could have asked for.

Over dinner, a report from the medic said that Father had experienced weakness on one side of his body and loss of coordination, but his condition was being monitored closely. The hypertension had become more severe than anticipated, but scans had been ordered to ensure that they could respond appropriately to further developments.

The balance and weakness were a passing thing and while neither the fatigue nor the speech difficulties was entirely absent from their next conversation, she tried to take solace in the fact that he had no trouble focusing on her and his shortness of breath had been cured for the moment.

That night was not one in which she could forego medication.
*
Cassian's team had been charged with coming up with rescue scenarios and the options were as varied as they were risky.

The one eliminated almost immediately was a smash-and-grab. Even with their allies in the prison and their ability to override security systems, there were too many uncontrolled variables. It was one that favored the boldest members of the team and K2-SO relished the idea of storming the prison, but it was vetoed.

Sefla proposed what he called Operation Thorn, in which they would make the court a center of civil unrest. Calfor, who had been cheated of the opportunity to use his demolitions expertise in the denial of the smash-and-grab, suggested ways in which they could make an immediate impact. Jav Mefran, who was skilled at a little bit of mayhem, was the brains behind this operation. The difficulty arose in balancing riots with the kind of unrest that would not get the lot of them arrested.

With the full involvement of the team, Cassian preferred to let them devise a strategy that would suit their needs. It was unsurprising to hear the winning recommendation from an officer who was known for his example as much as his mind.

Medics were regular visitors to the infirmary, but it more often fell to the guards to administer the treatments per doctor's orders. Melshi as a relatively new officer, was allowed such a menial job as any idiot could handle a few pills and a cup of water.

Any idiot could handle that, but it took careful consultation with a medic outside of the prison to find the right cocktail to alleviate some of Bail Organa's symptoms and eventually induce a more alarming set of circumstances.

Operation Thyferra took more groundwork than they would have liked, but it was the only one that had a relatively low body count.
*
Leia awoke two days before her coronation to find the early-spring storms that had encroached on the city had blown themselves to another region. The scattered clouds and proud sunlight dared her to find an ill omen anywhere.

Winter even seemed to be in a cautiously good mood. “Nothing new from Center,” she reported over breakfast. “Your father has had no need to visit the infirmary and his tests are within normal ranges.”

“I wish mine were,” Leia murmured, though her pulse slowed to a comfortable pace at those reassurances.

“This is one of the most blessed days of your life,” Winter reminded her. “I hope that the hours to come will make that so clear that it will drive worry from your heart.”

“Thank you,” Leia said in barely more than a whisper, echoing the hope in her mind. “It has been an incomparable gift to have you at my side in this time.”

The words were inadequate to express her gratitude, but in the privacy of her quarters, the two friends shared an embrace that belonged to the informal conversations between sisters rather than a monarch and her advisor. Winter left with the servant to finalize preparations for the day, but she rested a hand on Leia's shoulder with an echo of her earlier sentiment.

“May these be the most blessed days of your life.”

It was no exaggeration to say that the people had an obligation to make it so. The Procession of Fealty was the stuff of legend, as all of Alderaan's provinces sent delegates with gifts and oaths of loyalty to the woman they would soon call queen. Alderaan's allies would come as well and she could remember epic poems in which several stanzas were devoted to the descriptions of jeweled cups and legendary swords.

She had no dreams of what riches might be added to her treasury. Bold knights might have pledged themselves to her service during this time, but in this time of proclaimed pacifism and policies of self-defense, she needed no shows of strength. She would accept the wealth, but treasure the alliances couched in elaborate language.

Rulers of legend had marched to war and stood against tyrants with swords upheld, but she was determined to serve her people with a hand of friendship extended instead to those who saw themselves as natural adversaries. It was not what Bel Iblis would have encouraged or what Mon Mothma would have urged, but her father would hear an echo of her mother's devotion to the children of Taia in the fact that she did not openly oppose the Emperor.

The diplomatic colors of Alderaan were white and her gown for the day was appropriately made in that image. The full skirt concealed her feet and was embroidered in the colors of each province, as the decorations of each embassy reflected. The bodice was of a simple cut, but was adorned with the chalcedony signet of office and brooches bearing the coats of arms of House Organa and House Antilles were affixed to the material over her heart.

It was a gown befitting the queen, but hardly as elaborate as the one she would wear on the morrow. It simply allowed her to sit as ambassador for her world and honored those who had raised her to be the woman to safeguard this world.

WA-2V had tried to convince her that she should wear a crown of braids to preface the crown she would accept during the coronation, but Leia chose one of her mother's headdresses, threaded with white ribbons and draped with gold-hued fabric at the sides. She expected to see a girl playing dress-up when she glimpsed herself in the mirror, but found that she had grown into the stature of her late mother in this time of tribulation. She looked young to be taking on this role, but equal to the task.

May these be the most blessed days of my life.

The throne room was brilliantly lit with candledroids along the walls, but the light pouring through the windows lent more splendor to the palace's largest audience chamber than any of the mechanicals. She mounted the dais to the crown princess' seat, as she would not assume the throne until two days in the future.

She had heard the crowds while walking through the palace and knew that the hundreds in this room who were waiting to present themselves to Leia, Princess of Alderaan, were only the first of several such groups. It was both heartening and overwhelming.

As she reached her seat, the multitude bowed or curtsied in reverence. She dipped her head with quiet dignity, then extended a hand to signal that they had her permission to be at ease.

She scanned the crowd and saw many familiar faces, but was perfectly aware of the tradition that dictated who she should invite to present themselves first.

“Thane Verlaine,” she called out, “it is my wish to seek your counsel on every day of my reign. Will you serve your queen as you have served our people these many years?”

The head of her Queen's Council approached and fell to one knee. For a man of advanced years, no one would have faulted him for making a more abbreviated gesture, but the man showed utter respect for her as she had anticipated.

“Your Highness, it is my honor to advise you and my greatest privilege to serve as one of your councilors,” he said in ringing tones. “I vow to do so until the day that Taia calls me home.”

“May that day be long in coming,” she replied with a benevolent smile that expressed her sincerity.

He produced a small box from within his robes and upon a signal from her, approached her seat. Once unwrapped, she found a multi-faceted crystal of the sort that was used to call assemblies to order.

“In the early days of Alderaan, my family worshiped justice in practice as well as creed,” he explained, “and this crystal has been passed down from parent to child since those hallowed days. In token of my fealty, I offer it to your service.”

Leia's hand tightened reflexively, but she could not afford to let that same tension travel towards her face and she took a moment to turn the crystal in her hand. It cast rainbows in the morning light and she could hear appreciative murmurs throughout the chamber. This was no jewel-encrusted goblet, but a treasure fitting of Alderaan's most noble traditions.

“I accept it with gratitude for your loyalty and the many generations that this represents,” she replied.
*
The palace guards were under strict instructions to alert the princess' aide under certain circumstances. Most of them had to do with emergencies of state or family matters, but the most recent of these orders had come in a slightly unusual situation.

Winter never objected to the interruption of her sleep, but donned a robe when the signal came and followed the guard's directions without needing an explanation and fell into step with her princess without a word.

By the guards' reckoning, Leia had walked the length of the palace a dozen times over in her sleep since her father's capture, but they had yet to find a specific course for this somnambulism. On one night, she returned to the crypt where her mother's remains lay and spent several hours sitting on the ground before the monument. On another, Winter accompanied her through the eastern gardens. Most nights, she would pace her private office until she subconsciously came to some decision and Winter walked her back to her bedroom.

The palace medic insisted that this was not unusual in times of stress and that the mild tranquilizer was likely to have contributed to this relatively-new practice, but there seemed to be no harm in allowing the sojourn. She did herself no injury and every step was monitored.

If the princess were to ask, they would ask honestly. None of the press had the access needed to report on the disturbance.

It did seem to be a pattern that her agitation coincided with the worst of her absent father's health crises.
*
At 0421 Coruscant Standard Time, the prison infirmary was notified of an incoming prisoner emergency. This was nothing new, as said prisoner had been responding to Imperial justice with varying degrees of crisis, but the most recent scans had suggested that he had suffered a Transient Ischemic Attack and he had been monitored for hypertensive crisis following his arraignment. The medics were prepared for things to escalate, but the prisoner finally seemed to be responding to the prescribed treatment and it had been over two days since he had complained of something more severe than a headache.

The 0421 call, however, reported a severe headache of unknown origin and partial blindness. By 0430, the infirmary medic on duty had found one of the Imperial Senate's most famed orators to be having slurred speech, mental confusion, and impaired understanding.

0442 was the time logged when the medical corpsman, two guards, and a security droid boarded a medevac transport to H-Gen-42, Coruscant's most respected center for neurological emergencies.

“If any one of you attempt to be optimistic, I will turn you over to the authorities,” K2-SO informed the 'paramedics' once the course was registered with both the prison and the hospital.

“We're all on edge,” Cassian said from the pilot's seat. “Will you pause your pep talk and keep an eye on traffic?”

This being Imperial Center, there was plenty of that to go around, but they had taken on two escort speeders courtesy of the team and any additional backup would be an unwelcome complication.

“Incoming, security authorization Aurek-2187,” Sefla said into the commlink. “Did anyone from the prison brief you?”

“We're aware,” the voice on the other end confirmed. “What are his vitals?”

While Sefla gave a scripted response, Casrich kept an eye on their only licensed professional. “How reversible is this?”

“We have the symptoms to make it convincing, but not the actual crisis,” Dr. Soian reported while preparing a syringe. “as long as no one compels us to reach our destination, we should be able to move on to the next disaster.”

She was not as bad as K2, but had very reluctantly participated in this effort to simulate a catastrophic deterioration of Bail Organa's health. She had been a low-level operative for a few years and philosophically ready to lay her life on the line, but laying a leader's life on the line was an entirely different matter.

“We're all set for escorts,” Sefla said pointedly from the front, “but if IC Constabulary wants to make themselves useful, we could use a clear path.”

“I'll see what I can do,” the receiving nurse assured him. “Keep us updated on any developments.”

The developments were that the right-side paralysis seemed to have subsided and thanks to whatever Soian had injected a few minutes ago, Bail was starting to show signs of returning to consciousness.

“When will he be stable enough to make the transfer?”

“Let's ask him in a couple of minutes,” Casrich suggested.

“We don't have a couple of minutes to make the decision. ICC is clearing our route, but how much you want to bet they'll overreact when we have delays?”

“Then we need to minimize the delays,” Cassian shouted, dropping several lanes and hanging back until he could slip between a public transit craft and a garbage scow. “Stable or not, we'll need to take a shortcut in about eighty seconds.”

Soian nodded at the blood pressure reading before responding. “I would feel better if we could get him conscious by then, but I don't see any immediate problems.”

Before any of them could give the matter further consideration, an unfamiliar voice came over the comm unit. “Aurek-2187, we're almost ready for you, but no one's got you in the line of sight. Can you give some coordinates?”

“Passing the Novacom satellite office,” Sefla responded. “Traffic's mucking things up, but we should be back in business soon.”

Novacom was one of Alderaan's most prominent businesses and on the safest route to H-Gen-42, but they had followed a slight detour two klicks before their Imperial Center offices.

“Sending additional units as backup,” the Constabulary channel chimed in. “We have a visual.”

Sefla muted the comm in time to swear quietly, while K2 called, “I told you not to be optimistic.”
*
There was absolutely no sign that matters had changed when Leia awoke. The sunshine had maintained its hold on the sky and even the clouds had decided to explore other climes. It had even been the first time in days that she had slept through the night without a tranquilizer before bed and that made her breathe slightly easier.

And then Winter entered without knocking and a pallor to her face that was uncharacteristic. “Your Highness,” she said with a trembling breathlessness, “there's been another development.” Perhaps understanding that Leia would have no patience for anything as complicated as a medical report, she collapsed onto the chair nearest Leia's bed with a sudden informality. “Your father was taken by emergency medical transport from the prison. He seems to have had a stroke.”

Had Leia been standing at the time, she would have been in a similar state of collapse, but she instead clambered from bed in a blind panic and stumbled towards the door that led to the comm suite.

“When?”

“Just over three hours ago,” Winter blurted out while following her. “We only just got word.”

“In three hours, they should be able to tell us something,” Leia said, calling up her station and entering the credentials to grant her access to the secure comm line.

Winter reached across her shoulder and shut off the screen with a hand that shook from either adrenaline or the kind of panic that Leia felt settling into her muscles. “Seth isn't responding.”

“Then how in blazes did we hear about this?” the Princess of Alderaan snapped.

Her friend's silence was even more unnerving.

“Bel Iblis' people?”

“One of his allies,” Winter said. “This isn't being reported through Imperial channels and when I attempted to confirm with Seth, the call was blocked.”

It might have been a spurious rumor, but Winter would not be on the verge of tears for the ghost of gossip. Leia could not process the fact that the woman who had been raised as someone closer than a sister had associated with her father's allies against her instructions.

“He was taken three hours ago,” Leia said through gritted teeth, clenching her fists until her nails drew blood from her palms. “What can we confirm through less dangerous channels?”

Winter leaned heavily against the wall, but did not attempt to make physical contact. The tears that had formed in her eyes between Leia's bedroom and the comm suite were still contained, but her voice was barely above a whisper.

“That two and a half hours ago, he should have arrived at H-Gen-42 and there have been no updates since then.”

Leia bent double, her hands braced against her kneecaps while she struggled to catch her breath. On the night of Father's capture, she had vomited, but the pain that had caused that response was so deeply buried that she could do no more than stifle a scream. Her ribs ached with the effort of drawing oxygen into her lungs while the room spun and her mind raced.

No updates. No courtesy call to the next of kin to talk about his wishes or to explain the needed interventions. Nothing to even say that the prison has taken measures for his security at the hospital.

The scream that she had muffled in her terror erupted in a bellowed order. “Find someone who can tell me that he's still alive.”

Winter fled the room without further hesitation, leaving Leia more alone than she had been in her entire life.
*
The plan relied on a hundred things not going wrong. The transfer to another shuttle had been pulled off just in time for the original transport to free itself from the traffic delay and accept its police escort. That gave them approximately twelve minutes before the receiving medics at H-Gen-42 would find the medevac shuttle to be devoid of a prisoner and it meant that the original shuttle had to find a way to disappear into the maelstrom of Imperial Center traffic under the noses of the Constabulary before it was due to arrive. Cassian's escort speeders had been conveniently lost in the crowd, but were dispatched to the rendezvous points nonetheless.

The trouble was not with the mysteriously-empty transport, but with the patient himself. Bail had regained consciousness enough to understand the plan and ask for his daughter, but full alertness would be some time in coming. Soian had done what she could to reverse the conditions that she had carefully and chemically induced, but it had taken extreme measures to pull this off and no one would immediately recover from those.

The plan relied on a hundred things not going wrong and some time around number sixty-seven, Bail Organa began experiencing unplanned emergencies. A severe seizure led to interruption in cardiac rhythm and what was a small band of paranoid rebels became a frantic group of under-trained field medics who were trying to handle one life-threatening circumstance at a time.

“It's been five minutes,” Soian barked at Mefran. “I've tried everything I have on hand, but this is worse than we prepared for. We have to put down and get him--”

“Help?” Mefran retorted. “Want to tell me where? Want to kick Cassian out of the planned route and hope no one minds that a different transport took his place? Put him back under Imperial guard?”

“Things changed when his heart stopped,” she insisted. “I can't give you a timeline of when I'll know if he can go much further without resources that I can't provide.”

“And we can't exactly comm Cassian for further input,” Basteren added helpfully from the copilot's seat. “I say we give a clear-out signal to the others and find a medcenter that'll take him in the next few minutes.”

Mefran's fist bounced off the wall in a sudden blow. “And then we'll have to find a way to smuggle him out once he's no longer in immediate danger?” he asked.

“That's step twenty-four and we're stuck on step one, where we're flying in circles with a person who may be dying,” Soian shouted back. “If you stall much longer, we might as well just let nature take its course.”

The cardiac monitor helpfully sounded an alarm at that moment, signaling another interruption and Soian pushed past Mefran. “Keep up the compressions and breaths,” she ordered. “Kappehl, put us in at the nearest facility and do whatever the hell you have to to warn the others off.”
*
The Omega Signal came through with just minutes to go before arrival and well past the point of no return. There was a great deal of swearing, punctuated by K2 postulating their odds of being shot on sight.

“We get out and we get shot down,” Cassian muttered. “Do we overshoot H-Gen-42 and see what traffic looks like on the other side?”

“They'll have people covering the approach from all sides in case we can't follow our original course,” Casrich answered. “Calfor, got any ideas that will take us down without actually getting us killed?”

“Working on it,” the demolitions expert replied.

“Work faster,” Cassian ordered. “We can't exactly open fire with a medical transport and I'm not interested in doing an inspection of hospital security in the next few minutes.”

“We'll be fine as long as the Empire is as brainless as you think,” K2 predicted..
*
If Bail Organa 's next emergency hadn't happened upon landing, things might have been very different. The emergency personnel at Senate District Municipal, warned very shortly before their arrival of the severity of the situation, were able to meet the shuttle at the dock and begin treatment immediately, but while it took mere minutes to get the patient ready to be moved, it took only a minute after that for the hospital to report to Sorcer Debas that his favorite charge had safely arrived at SMDH. Before anyone on Cassian's crew could figure out another escape route, the decision was taken from them.

It was by some miracle that the missing escort speeders avoided capture, but the original shuttle was disabled by a shot from one of the Constabulary vehicles and the resulting collision made any obedience to the Omega Signal a moot point.

Three hours and forty-seven minutes after the shuttle left the prison, SDMH's head of neurology had a moment to inform the next of kin that her father was expected to live.
*
Something had broken in the moment that Winter confessed her collusion with Bel Iblis' allies. Leia still kept her within the palace, but left instructions with the palace guards that she was not to approach until further notice.

At three hours and forty-seven minutes, Leia knew that the immediate danger had passed, but there was little time to process her minor relief before the procession resumed.

The first day of presentations had been as splendid as foreseen. Most provinces sent gifts of monetary value, but she had been presented with musical performances by schoolchildren and an artist from Crevasse City had rendered a new family portrait of the most recent members of House Organa.

What Winter failed to mention in the immediate aftermath of her disastrous news was that an unexpected guest had arrived early in the morning and the delegate had left his battle group in orbit.

“Commodore Tion,” Leia addressed the emissary with as much composure as she could muster, “a pleasure to see you once more on Alderaan.”

The man who had informally offered her help not so long ago had abandoned any pretense of amiability. He was in full dress uniform and flanked by a squad of stormtroopers. He did not parade Imperial walkers through the streets, but his mere presence was a threat and there was no one in the palace who would dare interfere without the permission of the future queen.

“Your Royal Highness,” Tion drawled with a bow, “I bring the personal congratulations of his Imperial Majesty, Emperor Palpatine.”

A memory of grim predictions made weeks or perhaps a lifetime ago returned to her mind immediately. “In the best-case scenario, where my father lives, you say that I need never know, but I would. I would know the moment that the Devastator and her support fleet arrived in orbit. My father's blood would not be spilled, but I would see stormtroopers in the streets of Antibes. Those of my people who were not killed in the initial occupation of Alderaan would be under a planet-wide house arrest.”

She had forbidden Bel Iblis from attending the coronation and Mon Mothma had not dared to raise the subject. They were only two of countless others who could be considered guilty by association, but there were some small mercies to be had here.

“You will relay my thanks, to His Imperial Majesty,” she instructed.

“I will,” he assured her with the smug expression of a man who felt no obligation to show deference, “but the Emperor gave me leave to present the Empire's alliance gift during this procession of fealty. We have long watched the progress and philosophies of this world and while we marvel at the pacifism that is a way of life on Alderaan, we would be remiss if we did not see the vulnerability of a world without a defensive force of its own.”

The Empire had mandated that the philosophy of non-violence mean a disarmament when Leia was still clinging to her mother's skirts. To hear Tion tell it, they had been foolish children rather than a people who protected their own under Imperial threat. It took considerable nerve to keep her mouth shut and her breath steady.

“Alderaan has been a member state of the Empire since its founding,” Tion concluded, “but today, it comes under the Empire's protection. The ships assigned to your defenses are even now in position. The ground forces who will supplement your peacekeepers will be arriving shortly. I am not in a position to pledge my service to you, but I vow that Alderaan will never again be subject to the threat of rebel factions.”

There were murmurs and even scattered applause among those in the crowd, but Leia immediately felt as though she were staring down the barrel of a blaster. There were certainly those in attendance who would like to violently object to every part of that pledge, but to do so would to be to invite a purge, a bloodbath.

She had no idea if the “vow” had been formulated before rebels had doomed her father, but the message of this morning had pronounced a death sentence on the world she was sworn to protect.

“You will relay my thanks,” she echoed herself in a voice that no longer seemed to belong to herself..

“I'm sure you will find a way to show your appreciation to the Empire,” he said. “I offer you my best wishes on your coronation, Your Royal Highness.”
*
Bail Organa was released to the Imperial Bureau of Prisons, not after recovery, but on the orders of Imperial officials who no longer saw him as in need of favors. He was alive and out of immediate danger and the only change in his circumstances was that he was moved to solitary confinement in a facility so high-security that the roster of prisoners was a mere rumor.

Within hours, every person on his legal team was considered a person of interest. Those who were sensible went into hiding, while Seth attempted to strong-arm his way back into contact with his client. The trial was announced to be on hold, though it was doubtful that it would ever go so far as Dewon needing to call witnesses.

As the eve of the Princess' coronation crept towards midnight on Alderaan, Lord Vader returned to Imperial Center from the wars to take matters into his own hands once more.

 

Looks like Cassian and company failed in their mission. Vader is coming back, and the Empire is moving in on Alderaan. Excellent writing; had me on the edge of my seat. I look forward to seeing how this resolves.

 

And that was such a well-orchestrated strategy too! Eagerly awaiting more!

 

And the hammer falls. Brave attempt, Cassian. A very tense chapter overall.

 

The fun thing about this chapter...actually, there are a number of fun things, but here’s my favorite: When the person who gave me this challenge read it, she said she looked forward to FINALLY seeing how I write the whole point of this story in the next post. We are that close to the denouement. . She also snickered when I accidentally referenced Apollo 13. I also revealed that I can’t talk Star Wars coherently when I only got 2.5 hours of sleep last night, but she now knows the body count from this post, what scenes are coming up in the next one, and the Stalin reference hidden in here. On the downside, I was ready to dash off to my laptop until she asked enough questions that I realized I really need to sit down and plan a specific conversation that I thought I already had worked out.

 

A/N: I really intended to finish this in one post, then found that it was over 10,000 words and 21 pages long and still not finished. But with this last scene, we have reached the culmination of the plot bunny Kateydidnt gave me. It's taken a LOT of complicated thinking and I had to reconstruct the last 800 words when my computer crashed mid-save. I own all of the coronation traditions and if you can't understand what I'm saying, it's probably the language I created as well. There are sections of other stories I've written in the final scene. If you want to know which, ask. My resources for this post have included too many medical websites and awareness campaigns to name individually.

Content warning: This has some disturbing scenes of violence and neglect.

*
Leia had done the best she could to maintain her composure throughout the day, but the task became more difficult every time she caught sight of Winter. The implied betrayal of her confidant's involvement with the Rebellion reminded Leia of why pressure seemed to be building behind her eyes, but there were times throughout the day that the young woman who had been raised as her sister looked frankly stricken. Leia found herself unable to look at her friend for fear of catching her in a moment of grief that Leia had yet to experience.

With the Procession concluded, however, she could no longer look away. Leia sent her servant droid away and asked Winter to help her prepare for the feast.

“What is it now?” she asked bluntly, removing the headdress and setting to work uncoiling the braids that she had worn beneath it. “More catastrophic news from your allies?”

“Lack of news through more formal channels,” Winter corrected unflinchingly, standing at a distance of two meters and keeping her tone even. “Seth is being denied access as a person of suspicion, but I called on our friends in the judiciary. They can confirm that your father was discharged, but there is no record of his check-in at the prison. I have been trying for some time to obtain more information, but whoever knows his precise location and his current condition is not making a record of that.”

It reminded her of the whisper of an echo of a rumor that had started all of this, when they had no resources to bring to her father's aid and had thought themselves to be in unthinkably dire circumstances. “They feel no obligation to do so,” she said. “If this person answers to anyone, it will be to his Imperial majesty, not those with a personal interest in Father's well-being.”

That stricken look returned to Winter's face and this time, she did not make an effort to conceal it. “I'm sure he's alive.”

There was a note of pleading in her voice, a hope that she could rely on some cruel mercy in this day of terrible uncertainty. Leia might not have noticed it if she had not felt the same for the greater part of the afternoon.

“Of course he is.” They would make a public spectacle of it otherwise. “His life is leverage. Even with Tion establishing a polite stranglehold here and the Empire crafting a noose on Imperial Center, their greatest weapon is the threat of what might happen to him next. They revel in my vulnerability and for all Tion's talk of protection, he is waiting for permission to start targeting Alderaan itself.”

She paused in brushing her hair to meet Winter's eyes for the first time in hours. “You can be assured that I'm not planning on making a list of acceptable martyrs to use in my stead.”

Winter bowed her head with solemn formality, but her expression did not change. It was as if Leia had simply spoken aloud what Winter had assumed all along. “Yes, Your Highness.”

She had hoped that this conference would give her some measure of control over her anxiety, but it merely articulated them. Leia looked away, but could find nothing in her line of sight that would provide a distraction. It was a temptation to open the windows and let the cool night air fill her lungs, but she might hear the wheezing clank of an Imperial walker on patrol or the shout of a stormtrooper strong-arming one of her people. With the weight of a world on her shoulders, she could not invite more calamity.

“Damn them,” she said in little more than a whisper. “Damn them for giving his life for their cause.”

There was a rustle of movement behind her and Leia glanced over her shoulder to see Winter squaring her shoulders and unclenching her jaw slowly. “How many lives of their own did they give?”

“We don't know,” Winter answered. “We know the number of operatives killed in one transport, but there is no telling if others have been killed or merely captured.”

Leia was unsure of why she had felt the need to ask that, but Winter had a perfect memory and would not have had the figures slip her mind. All the inquiry had accomplished was to remind them both that the members of the Rebellion should be feeling some kind of remorse over this turn of event. For her part, Leia could only feel some regret that, while she felt the need to damn Bel Iblis and whoever else had masterminded the disaster, she could only directly condemn her oldest friend.

I am unspeakably angry with most of them, but I am very eloquently furious with their messenger.

It was imperative that her fury remain here. Many people had witnessed the distance between them during the last day, but no one could be permitted to see the rift. Her mother's Aldebaran was a place of peace and as Breha's heir, Leia would not enter the day of her coronation in discord with that intention.

“Go,” she commanded. “You have preparations of your own to make.”

“You asked for my help in preparing for the event,” Winter said hesitantly.

Leia turned and let her hands fall to her sides in a gesture of peacemaking. “You have rendered assistance to your Queen,” she said. “The rest is hairdressing.”
*
Tens of thousands of people had passed through the Palace during the Procession, but the last formal occasion before the coronation was limited to six hundred thirty-seven. Six hundred thirty-eight settlers had arrived on this world in search of peace millennia ago and it was tradition to leave one seat empty for the goddess they had served.

Tomorrow would be a time of celebration and the banquet that followed the ceremony would be punctuated by toasts and special performances, but this was to be a more solemn affair. Every dish prepared was one that originated on Alderaan and the wine served to Leia and her councilors was Breha's favorite emerald from grapes grown on the family's summer property.

She had no appetite for any of it and there was a way of graciously turning away servers, but there was no escaping one specific tradition.

All those in attendance rose as she made her entrance and bowed or curtsied before she gestured for them to be at ease. “My friends...”

Some of those here could be considered such. She had filled some seats with politicians and public servants and those who had rendered special services to the royal house, but she also saw that invitations had been accepted by schoolfellows, her father's sisters, and even members of the Palace Guard. Not a single member of Tion's coterie could be found here.

“My friends,” she began again after a deep breath, “I find myself inadequate to the task of thanking you for the great honors you have bestowed upon me and the services you have performed. Words, gestures, and gifts would not suffice.”

She gestured to the head steward, who approached with a platter. “On the first night that Alderaan was settled, our forefathers were too weary to assemble a feast of this kind,” she continued. “They contented themselves with a simple repast. With limited resources, they celebrated their journey's end by making bread and breaking it together.

“It might be said that tomorrow marks the journey we have taken under the rule of my honored parents, but it is unlikely that their influence will ever go forgotten.”

She stopped herself from praising her father's dedication to justice or her mother's efforts to keep her world's education free of Imperial propaganda. They had been defining initiatives of the previous generation, but they were suddenly dangerous ideas.

“At the turn of this tide,” she concluded, “tonight we will break bread together in anticipation of our next journeys. After that, I will take my leave of you. I will be spending the remainder of the night in fasting and preparation.”

There were appreciative murmurs among those who were familiar with the preparations and no doubt, a few of the guests would be inflicting history lessons on their fellow diners once she had made her exit. They would be followed by speculation. Leia would, of course, be mentally and physically removed from all such discussions.

“Lady Winter.”

Winter had been seated with Tia and Rouge as a member of the family and approached with a look of profound relief at being singled out at this moment.

“Though we were born into separate families, we considered the same people to be our true parents,” Leia said once Winter had made the appropriate show of deference. “I would be honored if you would join me.”

She retrieved the simple loaf from the platter and extended it to the other woman. Winter took hold of it and they easily divided it before consuming their respective halves. Applause broke out, but Winter's eyes were bright with gratitude at the gesture of reconciliation.

Once the remaining 635 guests had completed the gesture, Leia signaled for silence once more. “May Taia grant you peace and joy this night. May she grant me wisdom ere I come before you in the morning.”

“May Taia grant,” came the answering chorus.

She turned on her heel and retreated to the antechamber. Thane Verlane was to preside over the feast itself, but Winter remained as her personal representative. Only guards escorted her to her rooms, where TooVee was now waiting.

“Your Highness,” she sighed. “I wish that you had called on my services for the feast.”

It would have been against her programming to express specific scorn for Leia's appearance. Leia could have let the droid delay her with elaborate preparations, but she had contented herself with a simple bun and a long braid with her royal blue gown.

“I will be sure to avail myself of them tomorrow, TooVee,” Leia promised. “Do you have what I requested?”

The sedative that she had been using was perfect for nights when she just needed rest, but tonight's slumber was as vital to the coronation traditions as the Procession of Fealty and the court physician had prepared accordingly. TooVee held out one hand and Leia retrieved the capsule from the bluish fingers.

“Thank you,” she said. “I will see you in the morning.”
*
Vader's fortress was a study in isolation, carved in obsidian and set on the world that had been his dark birthplace and crucible. It was a place whose existence was more rumor than anything and while few had visited, none had dared to enter uninvited.

This prison made his fortress seem a popular tourist destination by comparison. It was so deep in the bowels of Coruscant that its foundations could have been laid at the same level as the original Jedi Temple. There were no guards standing watch in its foyer; all voluntary entrants did so with a personal code that was issued by the Emperor himself.

There were hundreds rumored to be inmates here. When anyone of sufficient rank or depravity disappeared, it was theorized that they had been brought here. Unfortunately for such theorists, Vader could name every prisoner who had the misfortune to see the inside of this place and very few who had earned the sentence had ever been granted permission to leave.

The floor absorbed the sound of his boots, but could not eliminated the hollow echo of his respirator. The guard assigned to Organa's cell looked up as he approached, his expression neutral, and bowed formally before nodding his head towards an office.

“He has spoken little,” Major Correina reported once they were in the privacy of the room. “He does not seem to be showing signs of aphasia—he can understand speech and his impediment is most likely a weakening of the muscles as a result of the stroke.”

If Vader expected him to beg for mercy or shout the information that would implicate his comrades, this would have been a problem. The Force required no verbal output and the right amount of probing could slice through the damage until they could communicate clearly with one another.

“What has he said?”

The transcript was brief. The man had been here for mere hours, but every bout of consciousness was heralded by him calling out for his daughter.

Leia.

Leia. Fault.

Mine. My Leia.

Not yours. Never yours.

Leia.

Leia.

My Leia.

It was no surprise. Every nightmare that Vader had been able to penetrate had focused on a girl who was defiant on the girl who faltered in her father's footsteps. She aspired to have his audacity, but had stepped into a more cautious role after her mother's death.

But she had the resources to be as destructive force as the senior Organa. It remained to see if she shared the reckless stupidity that Organa seemed to fear would be her inheritance.

Nonetheless, the transcript provided a clear target. He needed only to choose a weapon.
*
As storied as the Procession of Fealty had been, Alderaan's most sacred royal tradition was that of the Evesight. Legend had it that, as the incoming monarch was fated to rule the v'taiaketh by the grace of the goddess, the dreams of the night before were under the goddess' direction.

Even with the sedative from the court physician, sleep was a long time in coming. Leia had just thought to risk asking for something stronger when she felt herself sliding out of consciousness.

The setting was familiar; she had seen this distant peak beyond her bedroom window every day that she began in the palace. She and Winter had achieved the summit together as part of her Challenge of the Body. And it was on the descent from this peak that her mother had suffered the fall that damaged her body too badly for her to risk having children.

It was, therefore, an unexpected miracle to crest the summit to find Mother sitting on the boulder where Leia had paused for a triumphant catching of the breath on her last visit.

In this dream state, Leia had no shortness of breath, but the air caught around a sob as she looked on her mother's face for the first time in over a year. Mother extended a hand as if inviting a child to walk with her and Leia rushed forward, using the grip to pull Breha into an embrace that had been as missed as the woman herself. Though this was nothing more than a product of deep sleep and there was no physical contact, she immediately felt some the anxiety ebb from her mind in the presence of familiar love.

“Taia chooses a messenger for the Evesight,” Mother explained without prompting.

Just a memory, then.

“Your memory,” Mother answered as though Leia had spoken the thought aloud.

She pulled back with a hint of bittersweet amusement in her eyes and lifted their intertwined hands to her lips in a familiar gesture of affection; that motion made her seem more real to Leia than any other thing in this vision. The bereft daughter responded with the sort of kiss to the cheek that she used to greet Mother on their first encounter of the day and felt Mother's skin shift underneath her lips with a smile. By the time they looked on each other again, the smile was shared.

“Were you always to be my messenger, then?”

Mother guided her to the boulder before answering so that they could treat this as an opportunity to share wisdom in a comfortable setting. Of course, this made no tangible difference in an imagined scene, but it recalled times when they would sit in matching chairs in the library rather than in seats that officially denoted their respective ranks.

“That is a question for the benevolent power who sent me here,” Mother said, “but I suspect that I was a candidate from the moment that your father arranged your adoption. We did not know then how long it would be before I would only be able to watch you in spirit, but we knew that parenting you would be a sacred vocation.”

It reminded Leia of one of her tutors, who had said that any contribution to the raising of the world's future monarch was a gift to their world as well as a tribute to the goddess. But they could not have known at the time she arrived on Alderaan that she would be equal to the task.

“Evesight is your time to seek guidance from the entity you have faith in,” Mother elaborated, “but she also understands that there are others who hold a more immediate place of trust in your mind.”

“Who was yours, then?”

“Your father.” The amusement reached from her eyes to her mouth now. “It was before we were even betrothed and I had not realized how fully I relied on him until then, but it certainly confirmed my heart's desire to make his part in my life a permanent fixture.”

That put into context the fact that her mother had accepted his proposal one week after her coronation. “What did he tell you?”

“That is for you to discover yourself.” Leia felt the skin between her brows shift slightly in a frown that Father always said she had learned from Mother and her predecessor smiled. “I am not trying to deceive you or withhold vital information, but today is not the time for you to borrow the advice that applied to the circumstances of decades past.”

“That's where you're wrong.” It took a moment for her to remember that this representation, while wearing her mother's face, was communicating the will of her world's higher power. She took a moment to calm her thoughts and reestablish her willingness to learn. “I mean to say that I doubt I will ever find myself in a place where the counsel of those who went before me would be worthless to me.”

“I applaud your insight,” Mother said gently with a smile that indicated no offense had been taken, “but your circumstances are vastly different from the ones faced by a queen who could rely on the Jedi to intervene in the war brewing on the horizon.”

“War is not on the horizon,” Leia agreed. “It is marching through the streets that you and Father have spent your adult lives protecting.”

“I protected Aldebaran in the shadow of the Empire, just as you will. There will come a time when you will not fear how long that shadow extends, but I have every confidence that you will not let it extinguish the light of the v'taiaketh.”

Is that my mother or my guiding goddess speaking?

Though this apparition had responded to an earlier thought, this version of her mother left that particular question unanswered. Leia drew in a deep breath instinctively as though it would refresh her, and turned her eyes to the distant capitol city. This dream was set at midday, so the sunlight glinted off of the spires and rooftops, but she could see in another memory the nighttime lamps that refused to stop beckoning her home every time she returned from an off-world journey.

“To answer your earlier question, I will say that your father relayed a message that you would do well to bear in mind,” Mother said at last, turning in the same direction and squinting as if straining to look for a sign of his presence in the city. “I was told that, while my future was uncertain, there was still a future.”

“That is the root cause of my worries,” Leia admitted. “I can't forget that there is a future in which Alderaan, a protectorate of the Empire, still cannot be protected.”

“Of course it can.” Leia glanced over to find her mother's eyes had closed in the course of a few moments and a strangely calm expression had settled onto her face, as if all were right in the world. “That is one of the vows you will be making in a few hours.”

By the grace of Taia and those who have gone before, I pledge the beats of my heart, the sharpness of my mind, and the my body to the safety of all those who come in search of justice. I stand with faith in the peace that I cherish before all enemies.

It was one of the most complex passages of the words she would have to say and it had taken hours of recitation to wrap her tongue around the syntax. It had, consequently, etched the covenant in her mind.

“By the grace of Taia and those who have gone before,” Mother recalled, letting her eyes open once more.

“Grace being a gift that is not earned,” Leia added. “I think that definition particularly fitting right now.”

Mother's smile was slightly strained now, but not because Leia was missing the point. It was as if she heard the echo of her own insecurities in that statement and regretted that she had passed on the fear to the next generation. “No one expects that we have completed the task of being worthy of the crown when we inherit it,” Mother sighed as her grip on Leia's hand tightened slightly. “Some would even argue that there are monarchs in every royal lineage who never earned it. But as we put our faith in our grace-giver, we promise to continue striving for that worthiness.”

Leia had sometimes struggled to see her mother as a just monarch. She had balked at the queen's lack of resistance in the face of the Empire. Alderaan had credited Mother for keeping Vader at a distance in the days of the disarmament; they had lauded her compassion towards refugees.. Leia had wondered what was so admirable about refusing to take up arms against oppressors and how it helped the oppressed to be nothing more than a safe haven.

Philosophically, she sided with the rumored Rebel sympathizer in the family. With a battle group in orbit and her father's fate unknown, she was able to understand the motives of the woman who had spent more time doing no harm than trying to demand a miracle.

“How can I be sure that I use that grace appropriately?”

“By minding what lessons you are taught,” Mother said simply. “I am not speaking of formal education or seminars, of course, but you will find yourself instructed in unusual ways on a daily basis and there is no shame in being an eternal student. You will have counselors and allies, of course, but your own intuition will be an even more valuable instructor.

“I was never a close associate of the Jedi as your father was, but an old friend of his once shared an insight into why they say, 'May the Force be with you.' The Force, they believe, is created by all living things and its power is as much a result of those who draw breath now as those who lived centuries ago. To hope that the Force is with you is to pray that you can draw strength from those who have prepared the way, but have never truly left.”

Leia stopped herself from arguing that such fine sentiments were best applied to those who had more than a passing and distant belief in what the Force had represented to an extinct order. It could not be denied that she had been raised to believe that Taia's power was just as constant and resilient as what gave the Jedi their power. Still unable to distinguish between messenger and instructor in this moment, she chose to be open with the more familiar entity in the hopes that they were essentially one and the same.

“I still fear that I will learn the wrong lessons or apply them in ways that cause lasting damage.” I'm afraid that I will be as dangerous to my world as Father's involvement with the Alliance was. “I want to do a great deal of good for Alderaan...”

“Then put your trust in that desire,” Mother exhorted.

Tens of thousands had died on both sides of the war out of a desire to do what they considered to be a great deal of good. “It's not that simple.”

The pause that followed was the longest moment of silence yet. Mother kept her hand wrapped around Leia's, but seemed to withdraw in spirit, perhaps to gain a different perspective. She again wondered how much of these lessons were the words of Mother, but did not dare to ask for Taia to speak without a representative.

Mother finally seemed to come back to herself and “When I accepted the crown, I was the first monarch that our world had had in many years,” Mother began the familiar story. “The reasons for the reinstatement of the monarchy were complex and, at times, fiercely contested, but those things were not my concern. I was not asked to make sense of the politics, but to accept the responsibility that resulted. I read the journals of the last King before me, who had entrusted his people with the power he had borne. I studied the transcripts of the King's Council meetings. In the same way that you visited me weeks ago, I sat at the feet of each monarch and asked them to guide me.

“I wish I could say that they spoke to me as clearly as I am speaking to you now,” she said more ruefully, “but things are rarely that simple. I did, however, discover that the term of Evesight is inaccurate. The Evesight is a moment of investiture between the goddess' servant and the goddess herself, but that is not a singular occurrence. I came to understand that I received insights to be used on behalf of those under my stewardship with a frequency that was frankly startling at times. I hope you do not think of yourself as less deserving of inspiration. You will have every resource you need to be Alderaan's protector.”

“May Taia will it,” Leia murmured.

“She does.” The tone was as firm as if Mother were stating an undisputed scientific fact or a familiar mathematical theorem. “You entered our lives without much warning, but you have spent your years in our family with devotion to your destiny and mind to live a life of righteous purpose. That is the sort of monarch that Taia always wishes to see on the throne.”

That is for you to discover for yourself. Mother's earlier comment would have undoubtedly been echoed if Leia asked for guidance in finding a righteous purpose or clarifying her destiny.

“I appreciate your faith,” she said, intending it to be a message to both guides. “It will be one of my longest struggles to have the same faith in myself.”

“I know.”

Leia closed her eyes for a long moment, allowing herself to rest in the compassion of that response. When she opened her eyes again, however, the light that had sparkled across Aldera's skyline had begun to fade. The snows on the mountaintops in the distance were stained with early-evening colors and she felt the skin around her eyes tighten. If this were the physical world, she would have found herself near tears.

“You are sending me away?”

Mother arched an eyebrow in the growing darkness. “Our time together is drawing to its close as you wish it,” she observed. “Is there anything you wish to still ask of me, Leia?”

She had received reassurances and exhortations, but nothing concrete to affect the future. Nonetheless, her mind could not summon anything that she still needed to consult on. The most frequently imagined question had still gone unanswered, but she discovered that she did not, after all, need to know which of these words had come from Taia.

“My request is that you turn your attention to Father,” she whispered.

“I would consent to that petition if I had ever turned my attention away,” Mother responded in kind.

Leia leaned forward to brush her lips against Mother's face once more and the other woman repeated the gesture of kissing her hand. “I will go to his aid now,” Leia's guide said, “but I will leave you with one final promise: as long as you call upon us, your mother and I will be ready to respond.”
*
Bail knew immediately upon coming to himself that this was not the waking world. There was no stultifying pain here and the air seemed to be warm on his skin. He remembered little of where he was being kept, but the muscle spasms and paralysis were there every time he clawed his way to consciousness and he always felt immersed in an ice bath.

Those sensations were the most obvious signs, but as his eyes focused, he found himself seated next to his wife on the same balcony where they had spent their first hours with their newborn daughter.

“If you are to spend time with any of us, I beg you to stop worrying about me and go to our daughter.”

Breha wrapped one thin arm around his waist. “Our daughter sent me,” she said. “Looking after you does not deprive her of my care.”

It felt strange to speak freely when both his imprisonment and the stroke had tied his tongue, but he took immediate advantage of the power. He also took her free hand in his and clasped ti with the strength that he could not currently muster when awake.

“What did you tell her tonight?”

“Many things, some of which may be of use to her,” she said. “all of them were lessons she needed to hear, of course.”

Leia, of course, would be able to recall even the things she had not intentionally listened to. This sort of learning had served her well in her formative years, but was not something that could be cultivated with much success.

“She is afraid for the future,” Leia's mother observed.

“Fear and respect are two aspects of the same thing,” he countered.

“The Emperor's servants saw fit to send part of its military to her as a coronation gift,” she said. “She fears what they mean to do with it. She worries that she may have invited it by her own choices. Fear and respect may be two aspects of vigilance, but she has reason to look to tomorrow with dread. I did not try to talk her out of it.”

Bail had turned that fear into the foundation of a rebellion. He trusted that Leia would do so in her own way, but Leia's father and regent felt his own vigilance err on the side of fear at Breha's recitation.

“You are, as ever, wise,” he murmured.

This was how they had sat many times before they were parents, but their most comfortable position had always included a dark-haired miracle who refused to be at rest. He pulled her more securely under his arm, recalling that, while it had been too many months since they had been able to share this physical proximity, it would not be long before Vader saw fit to arrange a post-mortal reunion.

“Don't think that way,” Breha chided.

He met her gaze with a solemnity that matched what he saw in her eyes. “You can read minds now?”

“I know what recurring fears have been crossing your mind since your capture,” she corrected, turning her head to rest her cheek against his chest. “I know the look in your eyes when that happens and I hoped I could give you some of the peace I tried to bring to our daughter during her Evesight.”

He let out a shuddering sigh of relief and understanding. “You were her messenger, then. I had hoped you would be involved.”

“If you had not your own trials to face in a few hours, you might have joined me as well,” she pointed out. “Multiple emissaries have been chosen before.”

“I would have vexed her more,” he said. “My prosecution has been canceled, but I am still at Vader's mercy.”

She straightened and he immediately pulled back slightly to look on her once more. Where there had been solemnity before, he now recognized a firm resolve. It was what he had always thought of as her throne room expression. As ever, it both called him to attention and made him miss her with inexpressible intensity.

“You are in his custody, but you are not as wholly his prisoner as he would believe,” Breha, Queen of Alderaan informed him. “Your official duty as Leia's regent will be fulfilled in a short amount of time, but your responsibility as her father is eternal. You have your loyalties to the Republic you wish to restore, but those loyalties have always been tempered by what is best for your daughter. I have spent most of my wise counsel on her tonight, so what I have left is my trust that you will not falter in that duty.”

These were close to the last coherent words she had said to him in life. He knew every deviation, but appreciated every novel thought.

“I will act on her behalf, even when my speech falters.”

The throne room mask cracked momentarily so that she appeared a little more vulnerable. “I know your heart will not falter. That is the most important thing.”

Bolstered by her confidence, he reached for both of her hands. “May I speak candidly?”

“Always.”

“I will face Vader when you leave,” he predicted. “I have heard nothing that prepares me for that.”

She attempted to look as though she had confidence in his strength again, but the vulnerability remained visible. “I know,” she said, “but you are wrong. Every word we have spoken here has prepared you for today.”

Before he could argue or even ask for further guidance, the world went black.
*
“T’Altzeh.”

Leia startled abruptly awake and found herself staring not at her ceiling or the walls of her bedroom, but the stone effigy of some distant king. Her knees buckled, more out of weariness than shock, but Winter caught her by the elbow as if she had anticipated this.

“Winter...”

“Eu t'conhrad fer v't'altzeh oger,” Winter responded.

It had to be past midnight. It was tradition for her to speak only in Taiald until the moment the crown touched her head and the same held true for those who attended her on this morning. This still did nothing to explain why she had come to the royal mausoleum or how Winter had known to find her here. She had simply said she'd found Leia outside her chambers.

“Doghe,” she commanded. “Eu segh.”

It was easier to promise to follow than to consciously set off in the direction of her rooms. She distractedly brushed fingers against her cheeks and found them damp with tears she must have shed during her nighttime wanderings. Perhaps she had been weeping at the renewed separation from her mother or out of concern for what the day would bring.

And then she remembered the effigy. It was only familiar to her because she passed it on every visit to her mother's resting place. The bas relief marking Mother's tomb looked in his direction, but was separated by the space reserved for her husband.

During Evesight, Leia had somehow wandered to the place where she would someday have to bury her father and wept.

Not yet, she insisted as she breathed deeply and struggled to calm her pounding heartbeat. His fight is not yet ended.

That was as much reassurance as she could hope for at the moment.

“V'pah?” she asked.

Winter shook her head regretfully. The lack of news was unsettling, but Leia pushed thoughts of its cause to the back of her mind.

“Brigath.”

One old-fashioned chrono on a table indicated that she had hours to go until dawn. There were few guards on duty and none of the guests would have access to this area of the Palace for a little while yet.

“Voles asolv?”

Winter was kind to think of calling a priest to help her put her mind at ease, but Leia felt apprehension, not guilt. She would receive a blessing, but no peace of mind.

“Voles durm?” Winter suggested when she had declined the offer.

On another day, Leia would have loathed the idea of returning to bed when there was work to be done, but she could not afford to be compromised today and there was a chance that there would be one last lesson from the Evesight if she sought it out. She nodded.

“Brigath,” she repeated.

When she awoke three hours later, however, she could not remember if even a moment of a dream had come to her. Either she had refused it or there was nothing more that could help her immediately. She at least awoke in her own bed and with a clearer head.

Winter kept her commlink at hand throughout the preparations in case there was an urgent call from Imperial Center through official channels. Leia found herself glancing it while TooVee was winding her hair into a halo of braids and painting her face carefully so that her pallor was not immediately obvious. Winter received a call while Leia was trading her nightgown for the royal blue underdress that would line her formal gown, but it was a matter of schedule instead of a vital piece of information and she returned to Leia's side with a whispered apology.

The gown was crafted of green shimmersilk and embroidered in gold with lorna blossoms. The onyx pendant that was the royal family's signet hung heavy against her sternum and earrings in the same hue as the embroidery were set in her ears, but for all of her elaborate ornaments, her feet were bare.

The Palace was her home, but the Hall of Justice had been the site of every coronation on record and it stood just over three kilometers from the Palace's eastern doors. The route was heavily-trafficked on most days as it bisected the administrative quarter of the city and was bordered by the legislature to the south and the commercial district to the north. Today, not even a bird blocked her path as she stepped out the doors of the palace. The thousands lining the route cast arallute petals in her path as an expression of hope for the future.

She knew from reports that this same promenade had been the site of two arrests and an altercation with stormtroopers that had resulted in one of the v'taiaketh being shot thirty paces from the entrance of the palace. The man had survived, but this illusion of peace was just a tense pause between stormfronts rather than the day of celebration that it should have been.

Had life been less complicated, she would have knelt before the viceroy and bowed her head in gratitude for his faithful service in her mother's stead. She would have lifted her head to look at him from beneath the crown that she would wear for the remainder of her life and he would have been the first to hail her as his new ruler.

Instead, each step towards the Hall of Justice scraped at the soles of her feet. They had not bothered her on the brief journeys she had undertaken in preparation, but with each contact of her foot against the cobblestones, she expected to leave a trail of blood behind her.

By custom, this procession was undertaken in complete silence, though there were chitterings and chirpings from trees along the path. People genuflected as she passed, but she kept her eyes forward and let her feet keep pace with her heartbeat. There would be time to receive their respect later.

She finally reached the slightly-worn red marble of the steps leading to the Hall of Justice and welcomed the change to the smoother stones. Fourteen steps later, she reached her destination, pulse pounding in her ears and feet cramping. Only the man carrying out the ceremony would witness the trembling of her legs when the came for to kneel as an heir and rise as a monarch.

“T’Altzeh,” Justice Estor addressed her, “B'h'taialethi e segh h'soth e h'volu v'taia, lu euved.”

“Brigath.”

“Cem, T’Altzeh, voles th?” he asked.

What is it that you wish, Your Highness? There was only one appropriate answer to pluck from the many that had filled her mind since Father had asked her to take on this role.

“Eu vol serth h'taialethi v'nomh v'Taia e segh h'am v'taiaketh,” she responded.

There may have been hesitation in her response, but she told no lie in hoping to serve those of Alderaan in the name of the goddess and in imitation of the love she bore for all of her children. Perhaps she would someday understand the full measure of that love as her parents did.

But not to such a perilous extent.

She barely heard the prompt for her to state her vow, but responded fervently and immediately.

“Pe h'gras v'Taia e anteseithe, eu jeur v'cor hi'paden, v'men h'punal, e v'carc h'fort ma am segurh ani ci ved v'bus h'ius.”

The Day of Demand trials had challenged everything that she was and theoretically proved her worthy of this moment. In the same way that Mother had trusted her worthiness, she trusted that Mother had not made an error in judgment.

Estor nodded as she concluded the vow. “T’Altzeh, arrohid.”

She knelt as gracefully as her bulky gown and her legs would allow and bowed her head in humility. Estor removed the crown of the heir, leaving one gentle hand in its place as he recited the ancient blessing.

“Met h'am v'taialethi e segh h'volu v'Taia, eu conhiv H’reghaza v’taiakethi vert am Altze Amad Nod Leia Organa...”

The words had been spoken not so long ago by Father, but less pomp and an incredible amount of faith. He had altered them only in recalling her Naming ceremony, but there was no one here to allude to her adoption.

The hand lifted and she felt the cold metal of her new burden against her scalp a moment later. It was lighter than she had expected, but recalled her mother's claim that it was a weighty thing to place on the head of any person. Tears sprang to her eyes in relief and a strange sense of gratitude. For all the turmoil that had preceded this moment, nothing had stood in her way in the end and that was as sure a sign of Taia's benevolence as the Evesight itself. She did not dishonor the motivation for those tears by concealing them. When she returned to the palace in the sight of her subjects, they would bear witness to her emotion and this moment of honest expression.

“Levthi, T'Potenmast, Leia Organa, Regha V'alderaan.”

She finally straightened and found new strength in her limbs as she stood. The applause and cheers began before she had even drawn herself to her full height. Estor, having bestowed honor and power upon her, bowed low to his Queen.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

“It was my honor, Your Majesty,” he responded in kind.
*
Vader had been a proponent of preemptive strikes since the days in which he went by a very different name. Victory was more certain when the enemy learned of the attack while it was in progress.

It was impossible to be subtle from the bridge of a Star Destroyer, but daevotion to the Dark Side required the mastery of subtle arts. He had no need for turbolasers in a prison cell and while a captive in full possession of his faculties would need restraints or sedatives to make him pliable, Vader needed nothing so crude as an IT-O droid or a Level 3 narcotics cocktail.

With a compromised prisoner such as Bail Organa, he could break the man without even touching him. Had the man been permitted to remain under the care of doctors at SDMH, his symptoms would have been monitored and treated. They would have been concerned with the possibility of recurring strokes and would have positioned him to lessen muscle spasms. They would have done exercises to improve his blood circulation.

Standard procedure for Imperial prisons was to subject the inmate to a softening-up period in which they were deprived of sleep and food. Organa had been treated accordingly on his last imprisonment, so this time, the guards merely neglected his more urgent medical needs.

If Vader had been certain that the man could endure a longer waiting period, he would have made a study of how his recovery progressed, but in the wake of their leader's failed rescue, the Rebellion would hasten to change everything from their tactics to their location. Much of what the man knew might already have been invalidated, but his knowledge of the hierarchy and network of spies was far more valuable than a list of military facilities.

The man lost consciousness a few minutes before the chrono signaled midday and Vader monitored his mind vigilantly until he was sure that the man would not wake easily. As if he were piloting a speeder into the flow of traffic, Vader slid into the man's thoughts and was surprised to hear his own voice.

"Traitors are in our midst. You would be wise to remedy that.”

"Lord Vader, you have visited our world before, so I would expect you to remember my distaste for hyperbole."


"I recall it, but I doubt that the High Court of Alderaan remembers what the definition of a traitor is."

"'One who betrays one's world, a cause, or a trust, especially one who commits treason.'"

"And the accomplice."

Vader immediately recalled the conversation itself. When Princess Leia of Alderaan had been a mere three years old, he had paid a strangely diplomatic visit to her world. Rather than level cities from orbit or send stormtroopers to burn the prairies, he had sat with Breha Organa for a short time and set into motion the disarmament of a Core World. It had been neither simple nor straightforward, but the turning point had been a moment in which the threat to the world had transformed into an implied threat against a specific citizen. Bail had left the audience chamber moments before that interaction, so Vader did not hear it echoed in the man's memories, but Vader's mind supplied the missing piece readily.

“Will you not see reason for your daughter's sake? The Empire is not blind to the future of Alderaan.”

With that, Organa's sense shifted and Vader looked down to see brown eyes staring through a fog of confusion in his direction.

“Congratulations,” he said dryly, “your world has a new queen.”

The man's eyes drifted closed, but there was no change in his consciousness, only a slightly detached sense of relief. There were no words to accompany it, but he had the impression of milestones reached that Organa had never imagined he would live to reach at his daughter's side. It called to mind a Jedi Master who had died within three hours of seeing his Padawan made a knight during the Clone Wars. Organa had expected to give his last full measure in putting his heir on the throne and he seemed to think he could rest.

“I would hope,” Vader continued, “that this new regime would remember its responsibility to the Empire.”

Blind service and turning a blind eye. These have never been the strong suits of the Alderaanian people.

“No,” Vader conceded, “Alderaan has never been sufficiently willing to side with us in spite of the last queen's assurance that the militia would be more than willing to aid the Empire in apprehending those involved in treason.”

It was another excerpt from the memory that had been running unguarded through Organa's mind and the effect was immediate. Organa's mind went immediately silent and Vader found himself smirking behind the mask The man had just realised that he was attempting to douse a wildfire while holding a lit firebrand. The man immediately drew more attention to his struggle, but his efforts made his guilt all the more transparent.

The man's fist clenched and his left arm bent, pressed against his chest. Similar spasms had been reported after the stroke, but it looked appropriately as if the man were preparing to ward off a blow. The labored breathing, paired with a racing heartbeat and trembling, was a product of Organa's sudden panic. There was no doubt that the man's current impairment was based in producing language rather than processing it and Vader had not even needed to use the Force.

With each gasped breath, the man attempted to suppress a thought. Most of them were exhortations to give the Dark Lord nothing, to stop thinking. Vader had refused the guard's offer to administer the narcotics that would make the man susceptible and unguarded. This close to the edge of an abyss and on unsteady footing, Organa was under the thrall of terror as completely as if Vader had been demanding answers for the better part of a night.

“It seems you have a great deal to conceal,” he growled. “Were you a more convincing liar, I would struggle to uncover these desperately-guarded secrets, but there is no need for that. If you were protected by the courts, I would be forbidden from commanding your cooperation. There is no one and nothing that can protect you here. If you are to live, you must save yourself.”

Organa's eyes rolled back in their sockets and after a moment, the spasm passed.

“No,” Organa said with obvious effort.

“Yes.”

The fist clenched again, but it seemed to be a futile gesture of defiance instead of another involuntary reflex. It took more time for his eyes to focus on Vader this time and his next response was almost a stutter of thought.

Nononononononono.

“You placed your faith in fellow traitors,” Vader continued, “not for the first time when you organised the Petititon of the Two Thousand and not for the last when you formed the Rebel alliance. Where are those allies now?”

Dead. Too many dead. Too many lives lost without peace in sight.

Familiar faces flashed through the shared thought. Fang Zar. Dozens of the signatories of the Petition. A child in Jedi robes who had taken on clonetroopers single-handedly and died swiftly while the Temple burned. Organa had not played a direct role in any of their deaths, but saw their blood on his hands nonetheless.

“Too many,” he agreed in a more subdued tone. The man was so shaken that he might believe in some illusion of sympathy. “How many more?”

There was no response, just a continuation of the memorial. One face was memorably absent, so Vader withdrew for a moment and called to mind a thin woman with dark hair and eyes who had spent more time as his ally than any other. Organa faltered when the image of his late wife entered his mind, then returned to remembering those who had fallen in the first days of the Empire.

The third time, Breha's influence would not be shaken free of Organa's mind. Vader had seen her days before her death and remembered the valiant woman who had refused to delegate responsibility until her dying breath.

Then Organa retaliated with a memory of the woman who had been Anakin Skywalker's first love and Darth Vader's most personal enemy.

“So this is how liberty dies, with thunderous applause.”

Jarred, Vader forced the image out with one of Breha tending to the young princess that had appeared in the holonews.

“Your wife shared your sympathies,” Vader reminded him. “Her royal court funded the first strikes against the Empire. The first confirmed intelligence operatives had Alderaanian ties.

The ties had been tenuous ones, which was why it had taken years to successfully indict an Organa, but the man was in no condition to argue the point.

“How many others?” he demanded.

The image of Breha and Leia would not leave and the man's mind had gone otherwise silent.

“How many others?” Vader repeated.

The question sounded distorted and Organa's eyes suddenly lost focus. Before Vader could recapture his attention, the world as Organa saw it faded to black and his arms suddenly went rigid.

He hissed with impatience as the tonic seizure entered its clonic phase and Organa's limbs began jerking uncontrollably. He numbered the seconds as if he had genuine interest in the man's well-being instead of a furious desire to avoid further stalling tactics.

Who else is in your network?

He turned away in disgust until the man clawed his way back into consciousness.

“How many others?”

It took some time for Organa to regain a sense of his surroundings. Vader forced the image that had preceded the episode back into his mind.

“How many others?” he demanded. “Will you cooperate or should I let your allies speak for themselves?”

He could have cited speeches in the Imperial Senate. Organa undoubtedly anticipated an assault drawn from public remarks by someone like Bel Iblis.

Instead, he lifted the datapad that had been held, almost forgotten, at his side. “'The Empire has ruled by force and can only be fought by force. Alderaan stands for justice, but there can be no peace while tyranny lives.' Lady Winter, fourteen months and six days ago, favored a military response. She has been an emissary for the Royal House. In what capacity?”

“No.”

“Or your new queen,” Vader suggested. “Nine months ago, she opposed the Iserian Directive when she said that 'If the Empire is to see enemies on all side, there may come a day when we must see all loyalists to the Empire as equally dangerous. We have fought to protect the innocent and we may have to fight with more than diplomacy in our arsenal.'”

She didn't. They wouldn't.

“Charges of treason extend to their accomplices,” Vader reminded him.

They wouldn't. Vader wouldn't. They're just children. My children.

“They learned resistance at your hands. What other lessons have you taught them?”

They have nothing to do with this. They were never meant to be a part of this.

“It was in your power to to put a traitor on the throne by training her to embrace your ideals.”

“No.”

Organa's efforts to calm his mind had been set back in the wake of the fit. He had not returned to his previous state of control and Vader had little time to strike before that changed.''

“You know the crimes you have perpetrated against your Emperor,” Vader accused. “I have proof of how many of those crimes were committed while you acted as regent. If you wish to turn the accusation from those of your own house, you will have to tell me how many more.”

Nononononono.

“Alderaan is now subject to the personal attention of the man who enslaved Raltiir,” he snarled. “If you give me no reason to believe in your daughter's innocence, I will have no reason to stay Tion's hand. At my word...”

He could have elaborated in a long and descriptive speech, but he doubted if Organa would comprehend it or even register the threats. He drew back to refocus his own mind, then redoubled his efforts with a new weapon.

The stormtroopers should have been a guard of honor, but shoved Leia of Alderaan to her knees. Vader fingered his lightsaber, but kept it on his belt, turning instead to the officer who stood next to him. The room was nondescript and could have been a location on any one of the Fleet's capital ships.

Even with a Dark Lord of the Sith and a queen of Alderaan sharing the space with a Grand Moff, the sight beyond the viewport was the most remarkable feature of the scene.

“I did not bring you here to negotiate, Your Majesty,” Tarkin sneered. “You are here to survive the conflagration that your world has earned.”

“You can't condemn us all for the actions of...”

“The few?” he suggested. “The few confirmed operatives who are protecting cells of hundreds? Or would you like to assume responsibility for the collective crimes?”

“They have done NOTHING,” she shouted, scrambling to her feet. Vader calmly seized her by the shoulder and pinned her to him, but she still struggled. “This is a crime against all sentients and it will do nothing...”

Tarkin murmured “Fire” into his commlink as though placing an order for lunch with little interest in the outcome.

Even a Star Destroyer's turbolasers were ineffective against an entire world, but it took very little time for the cities to begin burning. The conflagration in the grasslands was the most captivating sight. There were undoubtedly screams ricocheting off the buildings in Aldera as structures collapsed, but they were muted by distance.

The shrieks of their hostage queen were much more relevant.

“NO.”

The guttural shriek came from the man who had tried for eighteen years to stand between his daughter and that fate. It was less shocking than the fact that the man had overcome his partial paralysis and muscular weakness to throw himself at Vader. It was all too easy to bat him away so he crumpled once more against the sleeping platform, but Organa fixed him with a glare worthy of the Emperor himself and his next thoughts were as forceful as a scream and as clear as though his brain had never suffered damage.

“There is good in him. I know...I know there's still...” The voice that had whispered promises to him a thousand times faded away before she could finish the reassurance.

“Those were her last words.”

Obi-Wan, tear tracks still visible in the soot of Mustafar that darkened his face, was the one to bring this news. Bail Organa stood helpless in the corridor of an unknown medcenter, staring through transparisteel at the shrouded body of a lithe, imperfectly still figure.

In Obi-Wan's arms, a baby girl began to wail.

“Good?” Bail echoed, voice tight with a combination of fury and impotent grief. “He may as well have killed her and her last conviction was that there is still good in him? How could she believe that?”

Obi-Wan had no answer for that, only turned and bore the child away.

The scene began to fade and he scrambled to regain control of the connection, but the scene merely shifted. In the late afternoon light, Bail Organa delivered the same baby girl into the arms of his queen. The image faded, but whispers of words remained as Organa's focus waned.

“What shall we name our daughter?”

“Leia. It's the name her mother gave her.”

“Leia Organa. Her first mother chose well. Who was she?”

“One of the last defenders of the Republic.”

“And the father?”

“Dead before the war even ended.”

He found himself once more in the medcenter, staring intently at the child now sleeping peacefully through the tumult of the first days of the Empire. Bail could not seem to pay attention to anything else and it was clear that this was not his first visit.

This time, when the scene faded, there was nothing to replace it. The same blackness that had preceded the seisure was encroaching and Vader could do nothing but hold the man's mind in place in the vise of the Dark Side. Still, he could not make out more than scattered words from a lifetime ago.

Obi-Wan: “Hidden where the Sith cannot find...”

Organa once more: “My wife and I will take the girl. We've always talked of adopting a baby girl.”

The frayed thread of consciousness snapped, but not before Organa remembered uttering a final vow. “She will be loved with us.”

Vader staggered back, feeling winded in spite of the respirator and on the verge of collapse in spite of the prosthetics that ensured his knees would never buckle.

The eyes that stared back at him were unfocused again, but the mind behind them did not have any more weapons to fire in his direction. Having given all, Organa had given up.

Anakin Skywalker, at last a father, was once more a murderer.

 

Excellent post! Queen Leia, Vader knows he's Leia's father (presumably doesn't know about Luke yet), and I gather that Bail died at the end? At least Vader didn't get much information on the Rebels, but knowing his relationship to Leia is a doozy.

I look forward to seeing how this ends!

 

I knew it was coming... but still a damned punch to the gut. Excellent as always!

 

Beautifully written. I am still awe of so much emotion, trying to find the right words.

 

I feel like I should cackle, but all I can say is bravo.
To anyone wondering--the original plot bunny I gave ish was "what if, in order to save Leia's life from the empire, he told Vader she was his daughter."

 

I have permission to share this true story from yesterday. I might not have gotten the exact wording right, but it was very funny.

Katey: did you hear my burst of laughter?
Me: yes, yes I did.
Katey: I was reading your chapter and you said tens of thousands had come through the palace during the Procession of Fealty and my brain started going "THAT'S NOT SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN! Gatherings of 10! Don't they know about social distancing?"
Me: You’re weird, so very, very weird. And Katey, this is very strange comfort, but alderaan's been destroyed. It can't be hurt anymore.

 

@DarthIshtar -- that's how you know you're a fan fiction writer

 

I told her I hadn’t heard her laugh like that since she tried to tap on a word to define it, then remembered that only worked on kindle, not a paper manuscript. She’s a very entertaining reader.

 

Entertaining readers!

 

Most readers aren’t within my earshot. And can’t ask further questions about some missing rebels after gaming.