Chapter Text
The door slid open with a soft hiss.
Han felt the shift instantly. The room suddenly felt smaller, like the walls were drawn in a fraction of an inch. A shape stood up where the brightness of Cloud City should have been. A tall, angular shape, swallowing out the glow behind it.
Then the breathing reached him.
Measured. Mechanical. Too steady to belong to a living thing.
With the precision of a man who’d been in a lot of situations, Han pulled his blaster in one swift movement and fired. Three shots hit the target, but there was no impact, no damage.
The blaster bolts hit Vader’s gloved hand and absorbed into nothing.
Less than a second later, Han felt a tug and his blaster was wrenched out of his hand, landing in Vader’s palm smoothly.
Han looked at his own hand in disbelief, before looking up as Vader spoke.
“We would be honoured, if you would join us…” Vader said, the mechanical edge of his voice cutting through the tension between them like a blade.
As if on cue, a mandalorian laced head to toe in beskar armour stepped forward, rifle clutched tightly in his hand, and positioned himself at Vader’s side.
Boba Fett.
Han recognised him instantly. They had never met, but he had heard an awful lot about him. The most feared, competent and dangerous bounty hunter in the galaxy.
Han’s pulse began to quicken. This is bad, he thought.
A large group of stormtroopers flocked in behind them, blasters raised. They were trapped.
Lando spoke up, his voice barely above a whisper. “I had no choice, they arrived right before you did.”
Han’s gaze fixed on him, a mix of betrayal, rage and disbelief washing over him in unrelenting waves.
“I’m sorry.” Lando added, meeting his gaze.
Han looked down and reached for Leia’s hand, holding it tightly before meeting Lando’s gaze again.
“I’m sorry too.” He glanced at Leia and gave a small nod as if to say it’s okay, we’ll get out of this.
Leia didn’t look convinced.
They turned slowly and entered the room and the doors hissed shut behind them.
Vader stood unmoving at the head of the table, watching, observing.
His gaze dropped slightly.
To their hands.
Without comment, he gestured for them to sit.
Han swallowed and moved forward, his boots feeling too loud against the pristine floors. Leia stayed close, shoulder brushing his, their hands still linked. Chewbacca followed, his low rumble vibrating through the corridor like distant thunder.
They sat cautiously.
Han noticed the way Leia angled her chair toward his without thinking, knees almost touching. Their hands rested in her lap now, fingers still entwined, knuckled pale.
Vader stood at the head of the table.
He didn’t sit. He didn’t move. He just watched.
The breathing filled the room, steady and patient. It made time feel wrong, like seconds were stretching longer than they should.
“So,” Han said eventually, the word cracking the silence like thin ice. “You gonna tell us what this is about, or do we just… admire the place?”
Leia squeezed his hand in warning.
Vader remained silent.
The quiet pressed in, heavy enough that Han could feel it behind his eyes. Every instinct told him to keep talking, to keep the focus on himself, to keep Leia out of it, but Vader wasn’t biting. He was letting Han unravel at his own pace.
Finally, Vader spoke. “You are far from your ship, Captain Solo.”
Han shrugged. “I’ve been farther.”
Vader’s helmet tilted slightly. Han couldn’t see his eyes, but he could feel the attention sharpen.
Leia shifted beside him, her thumb brushing over the back of his hand. Please stop.
He ignored it.
“What’s the matter?” Han went on, forcing a grin. “Not used to company that doesn’t salute?”
The air changed. It grew heavier.
Han’s chest tightened, breath catching as if the room had lost a little oxygen. His fingers twitched in Leia’s grasp, reflexively tightening.
Vader moved.
He didn’t rush or threaten. He crossed the space between them with terrifying calm, each step deliberate, boots silent against the floor. Han started to stand but was slammed back into his chair by an invisible force.
The impact knocked the air from his lungs in a sharp, humiliating gasp. Before he could recover, pressure closed around his throat, firm and unyielding, stealing what little breath he had left.
His hands flew to his neck, claws scraping at nothing.
Leia was on her feet instantly. “Stop!”
Chewbacca roared, lunging forward, only to be restrained as stormtroopers raised their blasters in perfect unison.
Vader leaned closer, looming over Han as he struggled for air.
“You speak too freely,” Vader said. “For someone in your position.”
The pressure eased.
Han collapsed forward, coughing violently, lungs burning as he dragged in air in ragged gulps. His head swam. His hands shook.
He looked up for a moment and his gaze met Lando’s. Lando stood in the back corner, keeping to himself. Han saw the dread and guilt pasted all over his face. Good. Feel bad, Han thought before Vader stole his attention again.
Vader straightened, but didn’t move away.
“Captain Solo will be of use to me,” he said calmly.
A gloved hand seized Han’s arm.
The grip was brutal. Unforgiving.
Han lashed out, twisting, trying to wrench himself free. “Hey- let go!”
Vader didn’t slow, didn’t even acknowledge the resistance as he dragged Han toward the door.
“Han!” Leia fought toward him, fear finally breaking through her composure.
“Take the Princess and the Wookiee,” Vader ordered.
Stormtroopers closed in. Chewbacca bellowed in fury. Leia struggled, her eyes never leaving Han’s.
The door opened.
Cold air rushed in, sharp and sterile, swallowing the false warmth of the dining room. Vader pulled Han thought, the door sliding shut behind them with a final, echoing hiss.
Leia’s voice was cut off mid-cry.
Darkness swallowed the room.
And the steady, merciless rhythm of Vader’s breathing followed Han into it.