Chapter Text
The side hall of the palace on Alderaan was almost empty.
The music from the grand hall, where the diplomatic reception was taking place, barely reached it, filtered through long corridors and the half-open doors of various rooms. It was not a place meant for imperial guests. No one lingered in the corridors or other halls; it was unnecessary. The purpose of these gatherings was to form alliances, reaffirm positions, forge bonds of cooperation with those currently in power, to win the favor of someone important… everyone had a goal to achieve here, everyone except one figure. Tall. Motionless. Dark.
A figure who stood before a painting, hands clasped behind his back. The soft light of the lamps fell upon a portrait: a beautiful woman with a serene gaze, elegantly dressed, almost unreal in her calm.
The golden plaque stated very briefly who she had been: “Queen Amidala of Naboo.”
The mechanical respirator broke the silence. Rhythmic. Artificial. Intrusive. It did not fit with the peace conveyed by the painting or the hall in general. The man did not move, he did not seem inclined to leave at all. In fact, he did not seem to notice anything else.
__________
Dumb party. Leia hated imperial parties. They were boring. She had to stand still while her parents talked to different people about things she didn’t care about. She would rather be in the gardens, or exploring, or anywhere else. She would even rather be studying, anything but being there.
“Your Highness, please smile. I know you don’t want to be here, but you must hide your displeasure.”
And then there was the other problem: her parents couldn’t even spend more than a few minutes by her side, so she had to stay with Nirien, her father’s assistant. Leia frowned.
“So I’m supposed to be honest… but smile when I don’t want to be here?” She tilted her head at Nirien. “That’s almost lying.”
Just a few more minutes. Nirien would get distracted, and then she could slip away, maybe to the gardens, or anywhere with fewer people.
Nirien barely sighed. She looked like she wanted to say something else, but didn’t get the chance to respond.
“Ah! Miss Nirien, it’s been a while…”
“Governor Onolean, indeed.”
“It’s a pleasure to see you. And in the company of Her Royal Highness. How are you, Princess?”
Leia had no idea who he was, but she remembered her mother’s lessons on manners and etiquette. Nirien’s pleading look made it very clear that she needed to behave.
“Good evening, Governor,” Leia replied with a perfect smile. “I’m very happy to be here with my parents.”
Rehearsed. Completely rehearsed. But it came out with convincing charm.
“That’s good,” the man said. “Getting used to diplomatic gatherings from a young age will be important for the role you are destined to assume.”
Leia held her smile. One more second, then another. Nirien decided to intervene before the girl decided she had been polite enough.
“Governor, did you need something?”
“Ah, yes. I wanted to inquire about the farming fields in the Brental sector. I would prefer to discuss it directly with Bail or the Queen, but as hosts, they are quite… occupied. I was hoping you could bring me up to speed.”
“Of course,” Nirien replied. “The situation…”
As they began their conversation with the governor, Leia stopped listening and decided this was her moment.
“Nirien,” she said in an innocent voice, “may I go to the chocolate fountain with Wyrae?”
Wyrae was one of Leia’s protectors and stood beside the fountain that had been set up specifically at Leia’s request.
“Of course, Your Highness, but do not leave his side.”
“Of course not!”
As they resumed their conversation, Leia waited. When she was sure no one was watching or paying attention to her, she slipped between the guests, weaving through fabrics and cloaks. She snuck out of the main hall. Now she just had to avoid the guards stationed in the corridor.
A noise helped her, one of the guests tripped on a rug and knocked over a vase. It drew enough attention for her to run out of the royal guards’ sight before anyone could react.
She turned down a hallway and heard voices, members of her mother’s cabinet. Oh no. She quickly slipped into the first room with a half-open door and gently closed it behind her.
Silence.
She smiled in satisfaction.
She had done it.
She had escaped again.
__________
Vader hated receptions. And he hated them even more when the Emperor forced him to attend. A grand circus: overlapping voices, officers and moffs competing for attention, hounds fighting over the finest prey. Ambition cloaked in courtesy. Bootlickers trying to win the favor of the new high command. All of it disguised as diplomacy. An empty word, diplomacy had ended with the fall of the Republic. And yet the Emperor insisted on maintaining the illusion, making the Senate feel as though they still held some role in the new government. Not out of necessity, but for control.
But he needed none of that to obtain what he wanted. Respect... or rather, the fear they had of him, was authority enough. That, and the trust the Emperor placed in him, were more than sufficient to compel obedience.
And in any case, he was one of those people others tried to flatter. He couldn’t stand it. They had nothing to offer him, at least nothing he couldn’t simply take. Nor could they offer anything he might desire.
That was why he always withdrew: empty corridors, forgotten halls, silence. Until this chamber, with a single painting at the center of the wall, forced him to stop. He should not have done so. But he did.
A painting of her.
It shouldn’t have surprised him. Bail Organa had been one of his dearest friends, and honoring her memory with a painting in the royal palace was not so unusual. And yet…
His respirator sounded louder.
At the party, there were only tense glances when he was near, rigid postures, cowardly people. And the few brave or foolish enough not to avoid him feigned courtesy while despising him inside. For him, it was easy to slip into their weak minds and know what they truly wanted: favors, promotions, the chance to get closer to the Emperor. They all wanted something. To them, he was nothing more than another puppet of the Empire. He was well aware of it.
But here…
Here, there was only him. And a painting that should not have stirred so many memories. Memories that had now turned painful. After all, he had killed her… the woman he was meant to protect, the one he had wanted to save above all else, and who ended...
__________
With quick, uneven steps, someone hurried into the room where the Sith Lord stood. She stopped the moment she crossed the threshold, hands tucked behind her back as if that alone could hide the fact that she wasn’t supposed to be there. Her triumphant expression lasted exactly one second.
It was impossible not to notice the tall, dark figure standing in the room, facing a painting she knew well. The little girl tilted her head and observed him.
__________
When Leia realized she wasn’t alone, every trace of satisfaction vanished. Her gaze met the tall, shadowed figure. He was there, the commander everyone feared, for reasons she didn’t fully understand. But she knew it. She could feel it.
Even that time she had asked her father, he had grown uncomfortable, that same feeling as when she was caught doing something she shouldn’t. But her father had been afraid too. Not the same fear others felt upon seeing the stranger, but something different. She hadn’t understood exactly how it differed, but she hadn’t forgotten his words.
- A few months earlier -
They were at a reception after the anniversary parade in honor of the Empire. Leia held her father’s hand when the adults suddenly stopped talking. Everyone went rigid. The atmosphere changed, heavier somehow.
In the distance, she saw a man… perhaps. He wore a strange suit. Everyone seemed nervous at his arrival. And everyone relaxed when he passed by and took his place beside the Emperor.
Later that day, she asked her father who the strange man was.
“Lord Vader. He is… a commander in the Imperial Army,” Bail replied. “You don’t need to worry about him.”
“Everyone is afraid of him…” Even you, she wanted to add, but didn’t say it.
“He is dangerous,” he said at last. “Never go near him. He does very bad things in the name of the Empire. Often unnecessarily cruel things. He is nothing but anger and vengeance.”
A monster… that was once a man, Bail thought.
Leia was surprised by her father’s tone, that tone he rarely used, one she had only heard when he was truly disturbed. And by the thought that crossed his mind but remained unspoken. What did he mean?
Bail, misreading her expression and thinking she was frightened, softened his gaze and voice.
“It’s all right. You shouldn’t have to deal with him. His duty lies with the military, not with diplomats like us. If you’re lucky, you’ll never have to speak to him directly.”
- Present -
Now, standing before him… She did not see a monster. Not really.
She saw something… strange.
It felt like when the sky turns gray before it rains, but not a single drop has fallen yet.
What had her father said that day? He is nothing but anger and vengeance. Leia remembered asking what those meant.
“It’s when you get so angry that it feels like a fire burning inside you, and it becomes hard to control. Like that time you fought with your cousin because he broke your favorite toy, you weren’t just upset, you felt anger so strong you hit him. And vengeance is what you did afterward, you broke his toy because he broke yours. Vengeance is wanting to hurt someone because they hurt you first.”
She couldn’t fully understand what the stranger felt. He was harder to understand than any adult she had ever met.
But it definitely wasn’t anger. Or vengeance.
It was something else, like when someone is trying not to cry.
It felt like when she had accidentally broken her grandmother’s music box, and her mother had cried for a long time, even though she said it didn’t matter. “Don’t feel guilty,” her parents had told her.
And yet… there was more.
Vader did not turn. He simply continued to stare at the painting.
She stepped forward, one step, then another. Her footsteps echoed louder than she expected. Still, she didn’t stop.
“Do you know who she is?” Leia asked, pointing at the painting.
She knew who it was, her father’s friend, a queen from another planet. Everyone always looked at the painting whenever it was in view. Why? Was she very important? she would ask her father later.
The strange man’s breathing remained steady, unchanged as if he hadn’t heard her question, as if he hadn’t even noticed her presence.
One second. Two.
Just as she was about to speak again, Vader slowly turned his helmet toward her, not fully, but enough.
__________
He had decided to ignore the intruder. Usually, once people realized he was in the room, they left. However, she didn’t. She approached.
That was new.
And not only that, he could feel something in her… he didn’t know what it was, but it did not radiate fear as the others at the party did. And then…
He felt a connection he had not sensed in a long time, something in the Force. Faint, but clear. Unexpected.
“Do you know who she is?”
She had dared to speak to him. Not only had she interrupted his thoughts, she was asking impertinent questions.
Deciding to end the interaction, he turned, not completely, only enough for the child to enter his field of vision.
That sensation again. The girl did not step back. Now he could identify her: the Princess of Alderaan, Leia Organa. Interesting, Vader thought.
The child not only did not fear him… she felt—curiosity?
“That is… not relevant to you.” The girl looked confused, as though she didn’t understand what was wrong with asking.
“You should be at the reception,” the metallic voice added, deep and without inflection.
With a slight gesture, the door Leia had closed behind her opened again, inviting her to leave.
Leia frowned, glancing at the door in alarm, not fully understanding. She looked back at him, ignoring the instruction as if she hadn’t heard it.
“My parents talk about her a lot,” she insisted. “They say she was brave.”
Brave?
Of course she was. Vader could think of a thousand other words, and of hundreds of moments in which she had proven it. Always brave. Perhaps too brave for her own good. Come with me. Leave everything else behind.
In the end, her bravery had not saved her from her fate.
Stop! Come back! I love you!
The helmet turned back toward the painting.
“She was.”
The answer was dry. Final.
__________
“That is… not relevant to you.” Leia frowned. What did he mean by that? He wasn’t answering her question. Before she could press him again, he spoke once more.
“You should be at the reception,” the metallic voice said. He gestured slightly toward the door, and she saw it open on its own.
She looked at the doorway, then back at him again. There was no one there… that shouldn’t have happened. How strange. Even so… she didn’t want to leave. Not yet.
“My parents talk about her a lot,” she insisted. “They say she was brave.”
She thought she heard a change in his breathing.So she decided she wanted to get a little closer, now standing beside him. She looked at the portrait, then at him again. That same strange feeling returned. Vader was staring at the painting so intently… the room felt odd. As if it hurt. The helmet turned back toward the painting.
“She was.” oh?
“You knew her.” Said Leia.
It wasn’t a question. The respirator shifted slightly, a nearly imperceptible change in rhythm. Something in the room tightened—not like danger, but like a wound brushed by accident.
“Yes,” he said at last. A pause. “A long time ago.”
Leia lowered her gaze for a moment, thoughtful. Her parents always spoke about the woman in the painting, but never about… him. It didn’t fit. After the question she had asked on Empire Day, her father had never mentioned the commander again. Why did that strange man feel guilt when he thought of her? Maybe he had broken something she loved. Had he broken her music box too? Maybe they had fought like she and her cousin did. She looked at him again and spoke once more. There was something else...
“Why are you like this?” she asked, hesitating as she searched for the words. “Like you’ve lost something you loved very much.”
She had felt that way once, when she lost her pet, Traro. The silence that followed was different. Heavier. More… closed.
Leia felt she might have said something she shouldn’t have. Her mother had already told her that just because she could sense how others felt didn’t mean she should interfere.
The helmet lowered slightly, this time looking directly at her.
__________
For the first time, Vader looked at her fully, evaluating, measuring something that did not fit. It wasn’t just the absence of fear. It was something else… in the Force.
That strange child beside him, too close.
She should not be able to perceive that. And yet it was obvious: somehow, the girl sensed things she shouldn’t. He cursed himself for leaving his thoughts so exposed. With so few Force-sensitives remaining, he had grown used to shielding himself only in the presence of the Emperor or the Inquisitors.
“You do not know what you are talking about,” Vader replied. But it did not sound like a correction. It sounded… controlled.
Leia did not argue, but she did not retract her words either. She simply looked back at the painting.
“I wish I had known her.”
The comment lingered in the air, light, innocent, and at the same time devastating. Vader did not respond. He could not. Not there. Not like that.
I don’t know you anymore! You’re breaking my heart! You’re taking a path I cannot follow!
LIAR.
Vader did not move, but something in the Force did. Brief. Agitated. His breathing changed, more noticeably now.
__________
In the distance, voices and hurried footsteps.
“Princess Leia!”
The girl rolled her eyes in annoyance. Really? Right now? She had been in the middle of something with this Vader… maybe she could even convince him of—
She stopped, remembering her father’s words: Never go near him. Would he be angry if he knew she had slipped away from the reception only to end up talking to the feared Lord Vader? Perhaps it would be better to keep this to herself.
“I have to go,” she said, as if it were her own decision.
She took a couple of steps… then stopped. She glanced back.
He was watching her too.
She studied him for a moment. It wasn’t as though they had shared much of a conversation, but it also hadn’t been what she had expected. A small smile tugged at her lips, almost imperceptible.
“You’re not bad.”
And then she left.
__________
The voices in the corridor pulled him out of his spiral of grief.
The strange girl before him wore an expression of annoyance.
“I have to go” She began to leave.
“You’re not bad.” The door closed, and silence returned. But the echo of her words remained.
You’re not bad.
The initial irritation he had felt at her impertinent questions faded, replaced by something more uncomfortable, confusion.
And something worse. Intrigue.
The girl’s expression, that faint gesture, that almost-smile, felt… familiar. Too familiar.
The room fell silent again, save for the mechanical breathing. Darth Vader did not move for a long time. The painting was still there, intact. But it was no longer alone. There was something else. A disturbance, faint, persistent, wrong. Familiar. And for the first time in years, he did not want Emperor Palpatine to know.
You’re not bad.