Hello! This is my newest fic, which I've been working on behind the scenes now for about a month. I'm planning on updating it every Sunday, and I'll try to make sure it doesn't interfere with the updates for No Heroes on the High Seas, if any of you are reading that as well.

WARNINGS: This fic (if not necessarily this chapter in particular) will contain manipulation, dark thoughts, violence, character death and child abuse (Luke and Leia are seventeen when it starts), along with anything else I'll try to warn of in future chapters. If any of this causes a problem, please take care of yourself and don't read.

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars.

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Part I: Mercy

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Coruscant always felt simultaneously light and dark in the Force. Dark, naturally, because it was the base of the Galactic Empire, ruled by the Sith—but even the presence of two Sith Lords, the Inquisitors, and whatever Luke and Leia were couldn't overshadow the brightness of billions of beings eking out a life below. Some of them had never even seen the sun, but they still burned brightly enough to rival it.

There was a slight nudge against Luke's mind; he turned his head from the viewport to smirk at his sister. She leant against a seat as gracefully as if there wasn't a trussed up governor only a few feet away from her, her eyebrow raised.

"Dreaming again?"

"Thinking," he corrected. "You might want to try it for once."

She stuck her tongue out at him and made to something more, but before she could the shuttle came to a shuddering rest and an all too familiar Force presence pricked against both their senses.

Leia straightened up. "Father," she said.

Luke nodded, unable to contain the slight smile at the spike of fear he felt from the governor. He was not cruel, not like the Inquisitors—he didn't turn to the man and prod at it further. But it amused him.

The shuttle door opened; the ramp lowered. It was quiet enough outside that the few sounds present filtered in with intense clarity: namely, the rasp of his father's respirator.

The governor gasped at the sound and muttered something indiscernible. Probably a prayer.

Luke ignored him. Instead, he stepped down the ramp with slow, methodical steps, his lightsaber bouncing against his thigh. Leia followed next to him at the same pace, so they spotted their father at exactly the same time.

Vader stood at the base of the ramp with his arms crossed over his chest. A squad of stormtroopers were at his back. He barely moved his helmet to follow their progress towards him, but Luke and Leia had the Force. They could feel his relief, and his excitement, at their return.

They were in public, so they both offered a short bow before rising again and getting to the point.

"You have contained the uprising on Kuat?" Vader asked.

Luke nodded. "Yes, Father. The Rebel spies have been rooted out and dealt with. Construction is expected to resume as normal by the end of the week."

"You have installed a new governor to oversee this?"

"Yes. We brought Governor Trite back to answer to the Emperor for his failure." He wasn't sure what would happen to him, and he didn't much care. The man's negligence had led to thousands of men killed on Kuat alone, with countless more lost as Rebels used this moment of crisis to launch attacks all over the galaxy. He deserved whatever punishment Palpatine had in mind for him

Vader nodded once, curtly, but Luke could sense that he was pleased. "Good. The Emperor is awaiting your full report."

"Then we'll go straight to him," Leia said. She threw a glance at the stormtroopers squad—they instantly snapped to attention under her sharp gaze—and waved a hand towards the shuttle. "Seize the governor and escort him with us. He will need to be present for this."

"Yes, ma'am," the captain said.

Ma'am, this time, Leia commented over their bond.

Always so mean to them. But he smirked slightly anyway. It's not like we have official titles or ranks.

It was true. They had no title—they had no name. They were just Luke and Leia, the demon twins to any Rebels with a bone to pick, and that was that.

We're above them, and that's all that should matter.

Vader turned sharply and walked into the palace, his cape flaring behind him dramatically. Luke suppressed a smile at that as well—he'd missed his father—and jogged to catch up.

He and Leia fell into step just as the double doors hissed open to allow them in. "How goes the hunt for Rebel Command, Father?"

"Inadequately," he replied. There was a growl to his voice, frustration, but it wasn't directed at them. "They remain in hiding for now, but we will root them out, now that the two of you are back on Coruscant." He hesitated, then touched Luke's shoulder lightly. "I had intended to ask the Emperor to assign you to the Devastator in the coming months, so that you might learn how to command your own flagship, if not the entire fleet, once I am no longer here."

Luke nearly stopped dead.

His father was the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Navy. He was the greatest military leader in the Empire. And he wanted to take Luke with him?

He thought he was good enough to take his place one day?

Pride ballooned in his chest. That— that was a dream come true.

"I'd like that," he said finally. The words didn't do his emotions justice, at all, but he showed them to him through the Force, and got a flare of satisfaction in response.

"And after. . ." Vader hesitated. "After this audience with the Emperor, I would like to see the both of you at home. I have something important we need to discuss."

Confusion and curiosity clouded his mind—he wasn't sure if they were his, or Leia's. He opened his mouth to inquire further—

Then they entered the throne room, and all other thoughts fled his mind.

The first thing he noticed, as always, was the Emperor's cloying presence, stretched out across the dais like an oil spill. Then he noticed the mural on the wall behind the throne, stretching up to the ceiling, which was. . .

Diamonds. The ceiling was inlaid with diamonds, in the pattern of all the stars in the galaxy. They twinkled above their heads as they walked forwards, their father falling into step a little behind them, and knelt at the base of the throne.

"Greetings, children," Palpatine said, and as always there was a slight shiver on the title, a hint of possessiveness. "I trust your trip was a success?"

Leia was the one who spoke. "Yes, Your Majesty. We have eliminated the Rebel spies and restarted production on the planet. Your projects will soon be back on schedule."

She knew she wasn't allowed to stop kneeling until Palpatine said so, so she shifted her weight more onto her back foot to ease the slight discomfort of the position. It was always her who gave the reports—she was the one wordlessly assumed to be the Emperor's chosen heir and spent more time in his presence, while it was obvious to everyone except Luke that Vader wanted him to inherit his position—so she was used to it by now. The words flowed smoothly from her lips.

The whole time, Palpatine sat up on his throne, unmoving. By the end of it, he shifted his gaze to the governor, a faint smile on his lips.

"Dozens of Rebel spies were found?" he mused. Leia nodded, knowing it wasn't really a question but that he liked to be acknowledged anyway. "My, that does not reflect well on your leadership, Governor."

Trite, still restrained by stormtroopers, was pushed forward. Leia and Luke stood, backing off to give him space and watching from the sidelines.

Luke crossed his arms across his chest as they watched the man sink to his knees.

"It was. . . a mistake, Your Excellency," he babbled. "Please—give me a second chance. I promise you, I won't let you down—"

"I gave you prestige and power over one of the most vital systems in the galaxy, and you nearly brought my Empire to a standstill." The Emperor shook his head, almost sadly, but Leia knew he was enjoying this. "I'm afraid there will be no second chances."

He lifted his hand. Before the governor could even flinch, lightning arced from the throne and struck him along the torso.

Trite screamed. The measly shields politicians wore around their minds like fashion shattered under the assault; his pain screamed in the Force with him.

Her father and her Emperor drunk it in.

After a good few minutes of agony, the Emperor tired of it. He had plenty of candidates to torture on the regular basis—he certainly never shied away from it with the Inquisitors—and there was nothing personal or particularly satisfying about this. The man was the sort of weak-minded fool the Empire's upper echelons were full of. He was boring.

The onslaught stopped.

The governor clutched at the floor, eyes unfocused.

"Get up," Leia snapped, receiving an approving look from Palpatine. The man flinched, opened his mouth, then decided he was better off getting up and avoiding another round.

"You were saying?" Palpatine asked pleasantly.

There was a light touch against their minds through the Force; Luke and Leia exchanged glances. They knew what their instructions were.

Luke, stealthy as a nexu, circled around behind the governor.

He went unnoticed as the man heaved himself back to his knees, and bowed his head. "My Emperor," he began, "please—"

"Perhaps I shall spare you," Palpatine mused, ignoring his pathetic begging. "Mercy fosters the greatest loyalty, after all."

A heavy sigh fled the governor's lungs. "Thank you, Your Highness."

"Then again"—Palpatine paused briefly, and it must have felt like an eternity for the kneeling man—"perhaps not."

A hum, a flash of red, then the thud of Trite's head hitting the ground.

Palpatine nodded at Luke, who inclined his head in respect.

He said, "I believe the Sixth Sister is waiting outside for you. She needs debriefing on the infant you gave the nursemaids."

Luke took the dismissal for what it was. He bowed at the waist, then, shooting Leia a half-smile, turned sharply on his heel and exited the throne room. She watched him go, an answering smile tugging at her lips. They both liked dealing with the Sixth Sister; she was far too easy to taunt.

She glanced at Palpatine, hoping he would dismiss her as well, but he caught her eye and shook his head minutely.

"I'm sure you can see them argue some other time, my dear," he assured her, an almost grandfatherly smile on his face. She smiled back. "Until then, help an old man to the window?"

She stepped up to the dais to take his arm, and tried to hide her surprise. Every time she touched him, he seemed to have withered away further. His old injuries from the birth of the Empire seemed to afflict him more as well; though it had only been a few weeks that she and Luke had been away, the difference since she'd last seen him was stark.

He picked up on her thoughts, as he always did, and chuckled as they stopped before the window. "Yes, my dear, I'm growing old, now. Soon my time will have come, and I only hope my legacy will endure."

"I'm certain it will, Master," she assured him. She followed his gaze out of the window, to examine the city-planet beyond.

How could it not endure? He had created an empire that spanned the galaxy, bringing unity where the Republic had only encouraged strife. So long as there was a firm hand to guide it, it would last ten thousand years.

"I am confident, of course," he admitted to her. "Arrogance may be my weakness, as you are always so quick to point out in our lessons"—he touched her shoulder affectionately—"but I believe I have earned that confidence. Especially given that I will leave it in your capable hands."

She tried to mask her sudden intake of breath, but she knew she couldn't hide anything from him. He gave her a knowing smile, but didn't comment.

He'd never overtly called her his heir before.

He'd given her lessons in diplomacy, economics, the running of the Empire—lessons Luke didn't and didn't want to have, while he studied the military instead. But he'd never been so bold. . .

She bowed her head, overcome. "Thank you, Master."

"You and your brother are the future of the Empire," he confided. "Luke will soon be ready to take your father's place, and you mine, once both our times come. And while I may be significantly older than Lord Vader, I fear his time is approaching faster than mine."

She frowned, a stab of fear shooting through her. Had he sensed something of the future, something to do with her father's health? She'd always known it only ever deteriorated. . .

"I'm afraid so, child," he said, picking up on her thoughts again. "I've been having visions of your father's death. I fear he is about to do something"—he narrowed his eyes at her, a sharp, suspicious gesture that almost made her want to step back from the shock of it—"rash."

Then his face cleared, and he patted her on the shoulder. "But, the future can change," he said. "And I'm sure you and your brother will talk him out of whatever reckless stunt he's planned this time." Another knowing smile. "Unless, of course, you join him."

She flushed.

It wasn't unusual for her and Luke to be chided on their occasional recklessness. But she hadn't had an incident like that in months!

"I'll do my best," she said, only half-sarcastic.

"I'm sure you will, my dear." He patted her on the shoulder. "Now, you mentioned that you took some Rebel spies prisoner in your report?"

She nodded.

"Then we will have them interrogated at dawn. I'm sure they will break quickly."

Leia swallowed her grimace—other Imperials' casual belief that interrogation was a simple, effective thing never failed to annoy her. Her father was the best there was, punching through the shields in even Jedi minds with minimal effort, but even he often failed to get confessions, or received false information. Leia didn't see the point of it: it was deeply unpleasant, and only stoked the fires of the Rebellion. Her brother's method was much more effective.

But she couldn't voice that dissent. It wasn't her place.

Yet.

"You'll be present?" she asked instead, pushing the question from her mind.

"It's said that the spies were working for Amidala," he said simply. She shivered at the amount of hatred in that word. She'd always known the nebulous Rebel leader was a taboo subject—her father refused to use their name, claiming they'd stolen it from a woman long dead—but it always surprised her to hear such explicit malice from the Emperor. "It is always wise to know your enemies."

She conceded that with a nod, then a bow. "Then I shall see you at dawn, Master."

"I'll see you and your brother then," he confirmed. "You are dismissed."

With a final smile and bow, she turned to exit the room, as always effortlessly ignoring the possessive gaze that tracked her as she went.

The Sixth Sister was indeed waiting outside the throne room for him, and Luke smirked at her as they fell into step. "Always lovely to see you."

"Spare me the pleasantries," she growled, the closed mask on her helmet giving her voice an odd vibration. She opened it to glare at him, yellow eyes hard. "Just tell me about the kid."

"Alright," Luke said. "He's a human boy, eighteen months old, and the former Governor of Kuat's son. We found him when Leia saw him instinctively levitate his rattle to his hand."

"So it's human?"

"Yes—he's Trite's biological son." Luke didn't bother to keep his lip from curling, or keep the disgust out of his voice—in the throne room, Trite hadn't mentioned him at all. He'd only grovelled for his own power, not the life of his son. Rebels were better than his sort of scum. "Davin, I believe his name is."

"I don't care. Inquisitors don't have names."

No, they don't. They were all called by numbers. Like stormtroopers.

Like Luke and Leia, with no last name to speak of.

They'd all come to the Empire with no past, and no future save the one being gifted to them. The purpose they'd been gifted. No one had bothered to give them names—it had been. . . irrelevant.

Never mind that his father must have had a name before he became Vader. Never mind that nearly everyone else in the galaxy had one.

Never mind that for some reason, deep inside, having a name felt important to him

Luke tried his best not to resent it. His father knew what he was doing, and he knew what was best. It wasn't Luke's place to question it.

He shook his head to dispel the thought. "Happy to finally have another human in the Inquisitors? You're not on your own anymore," he teased her. She glared, mouth pinching. She didn't respond.

"Is it still on the Avenger?" she asked instead.

Luke shook his head. "No—he was taken to the nursemaids while we came down with Trite."

"Alright. I'll pass the message on. Thank you," she said, a touch sarcastically, "for your generous contribution to the Inquisitorius."

He grinned, and inclined his head as they finally reached the turbolift. "Anytime. If there's anything I can do to help you—"

The doors to the lift slid open. His father was standing inside.

"Luke," he said, pleased to see him. "Come. Your sister has been dismissed; we need to head home and have that family discussion."

He turned his mask towards the Sixth Sister as an afterthought, and the room noticeably cooled. "Inquisitor."

"Lord Vader," she replied. She'd closed her mask the moment she saw him; her voice vibrated unnaturally.

"Have you found those Rebel Jedi yet?" he taunted. Luke took a surreptitious step back. He didn't know why his father hated the Inquisitors so much—he was sure there was a decent reason—but he did, and he never gave up an opportunity to taunt them. "Tano? The shadow?"

She bit out, "No, my lord," with a shallow, bitter bow. "The Seventh Sister and the Fifth Brother were killed on Malachor when they—"

"I am aware. I was there."

"Well then you understand that the trail went cold after Malachor, my lord. The Seventh Sister and Fifth Brother were responsible for hunting that Rebel cell, and they did not share any information with the rest of us before they were killed five months ago."

"A minor obstacle. I expect you to get over it soon." Vader didn't need to gesture to his lightsaber or curl his fingers to make the threat clear.

She swallowed. "Yes, my lord. We will double our efforts."

"Ahsoka Tano remains the priority. Kill her, if no one else."

The Sixth Sister remained silent.

"You object?"

She lifted her chin. "I merely think—"

"Show your face when you address me."

A breath hissed out of her at the demand. But the visor on her helmet opened, and she lifted her chin in borderline belligerence.

"I merely think," she repeated, "as the Emperor does, that you are too focused on Tano. She is no longer even a Jedi—"

She broke off, no sound coming out of her mouth. She knew what was happening—her eyes didn't bulge in surprise, her hands didn't scrabble for her throat. She stayed stock still, but it was still unpleasant for Luke to watch.

He couldn't help it: he turned his face away.

When he did, Vader released her. He shot Luke a glance before continuing, "Ahsoka Tano remains the priority. Is there a problem with that, Sixth Sister?"

She didn't give Vader the satisfaction of seeing her rub her throat, though it was obvious how much she wanted to.

It was enough of a slight for her to grind out, "None, my lord."

"Then we are done here." Vader turned back into the turbolift, and looked at Luke expectantly. "Come."

"Yes, Father." He stepped in afterwards. The doors shut on the Sixth Sister's resentful face, and then they were shooting up.

Luke fidgeted where he stood.

Vader turned to look at him, then looked back at the doors as he stated, "You disagree with how I handle the Inquisitors."

His father didn't play power games with him and Leia the way he did with the Inquisitors, but the statement was loaded nonetheless. Luke fought anger, but forced himself not to rise to bait. His father had taught him better than that.

"I would never presume to," he said. "I just think that being less actively cruel will foster loyalty for us."

"There is no us. Not that the Inquisitors are a part of. The Sixth Sister and all of her ilk are servants. They are beneath you. You should not care about them."

"I know. I don't care about them," he insisted. How true it was remained to be seen, but the Force didn't scream a lie, and he would never consciously lie to his father. "I care about the Empire. It is built on its servants; if you hurt them, you lose their loyalty."

"We never had their loyalty to begin with," Vader snapped as the turbolift ground to a halt. They stepped out, onto the landing platform where his father's shuttle was. "They are Palpatine's creatures, through and through."

Luke nearly stopped. "Father?" he said uncertainly. We are Palpatine's creatures. "We are all loyal to the Emperor—you speak with his voice. Loyalty to one of us is loyalty to all of us. There are no divisions."

Vader was silent for several cycles of the respirator. The sun was beginning to set over their area of Coruscant, touching the metal lines of the shuttle with gold.

"That," he said, as delicately as he could say anything, "is what we need to discuss tonight."

Luke frowned, but Leia arrived at the landing platform in that instant, and he dropped the thought in favour of returning her smile.

He would think about this later.

Something inside Leia finally relaxed when they arrived at the apartment. While an unfamiliar eye might see it as no different to any other skyscraper on the planet, it was her home. It was where she and Luke had spent half their childhoods, and she loved it.

They disembarked at the landing pad. By that point, Coruscanti Weather Control had let it rain, and she lightly jogged after her brother to escape from it. She flicked water at him the moment they were inside; he stuck his tongue out at her.

"Be serious," Vader chided.

Luke and Leia rolled their eyes.

The door slid shut on the pounding rain and the lift started upwards. They rode most of the way in silence, content with their respective thoughts. It wasn't until the lift opened again that she turned to her father and said, "So, what was it you wanted to talk to us about?"

Vader waved them into the living room first; Leia hesitated briefly, shooting him a look, then followed. He was being oddly quiet about all this. Usually he didn't bother waiting until they were in a specific place—if he needed to say it, he said it—and even if he was concerned about being caught on video, there were no holocams in the stairwell either.

But she stepped into the living room, casting a glance at her father as he stood and stared out of the window. Coruscant always looked beautiful in the rain, bright lights flickering through droplets on glass.

Their apartment was smaller than their wealth might suggest, but then again there were only three of them, and their main home was on Mustafar. They'd only moved to Coruscant at all when Luke and Leia were fourteen.

Nevertheless, what they did have was of the best quality, so Leia sank into an armchair with a sigh and closed her eyes. She had no problem with Star Destroyers, nor the quarters she was given, but she was looking forward to having her own bed instead of having to fight Luke for the top bunk.

She heard Luke settle into the sofa opposite, heard the telling clunk-clunk of him sticking his boots on the small table—then the hasty scuff as he realised what he was doing and tried to move before anyone noticed.

Opening her eyes and giving him a smirk, Leia sat forward. "Are you going to explain to us what's going on now?"

Vader jerked slightly, and she knew she'd caught him off guard. She wondered briefly what he'd been thinking about, but she knew not to ask. It was probably their mother, and their mother was not a welcome topic in this household.

It didn't matter. What mattered was that she'd caught him off guard, unbalanced him slightly. Palpatine had taught her that unbalanced opponents were always more likely to reveal more information than they would otherwise.

But Vader didn't say anything.

Luke was interested now. She'd felt him push aside his simmering curiosity on the journey over, but now the moment was here he let himself feel it in full. "Yeah—and what does it have to do with the Inquisitors?"

"The Inquisitors?" Leia asked, puzzled.

How were they relevant? She'd assumed that this was about their family, and the Inquisitors were certainly not a part of that. She. . . didn't quite respect them, but tolerated them, much the same way she did stormtroopers.

But they weren't part of the family unit that was her, Luke and their father, and sometimes Palpatine. Not by a long shot.

Vader was silent for another long moment, then said, still facing the window, "You are familiar with the Sith rule of two?"

Luke and Leia exchanged a glance. "Yes," Leia said. "It's not like we follow it. It's useful for staying hidden from the Jedi, but the Jedi are the ones hiding now." She waited, but her father didn't respond. "If you suddenly want to implement it again, hate to break it to you, but Luke and I would have to go because if it's just you and Palpatine—"

"I do not want to implement it!" Vader snapped. Leia suspected the anger came more from the insinuation that he might kill them, or hurt them in any way, than anything else.

"So," Leia pressed, "what are you talking about?"

Her father was quiet for a moment.

"We may not follow it," he said carefully—and the fact he said anything carefully was, more than anything, what made Leia sit up and take notice— "but we can learn from it. There are aspects of it that can be applied to our situation."

"Like what?" Luke scoffed. Vader turned to face him. "Murdering your master?"

The words were said in jest, but they rang true in the Force. And suddenly, something came back to Leia.

I've been having visions of your father's death. I fear he is about to do something. . . rash.

Rash.

Rash, like—

Leia stared at her father. "You're plotting a coup."

Vader inclined his head in a tiny nod.

"Oh, Force," Luke breathed. His eyes were blown wide. "Oh Force."

"Father. . ." She was at a loss for words. "What? Why?"

"He is a corrupt leader," Vader said simply. "He is a tyrant. He lies to the galaxy regularly, he lies to the two of you about what he wants from you, and he lied to me about— about your mother's death." He took a shuddering breath out of sync with his respirator. "If he had told the truth, I would have found you all the sooner."

Leia exchanged a glance with Luke at that admission. Their father never spoke about their mother—never. They didn't even know how she'd died: all they had was an offhand comment about how Leia looked just like her.

But if Palpatine had lied about her death. . .

And—

"What do you mean," Luke asked, voicing Leia's exact question, "you would have 'found us'?"

Vader froze, then, as if realising he'd said more than he'd meant to. He clammed up instantly, deflecting with, "He needs to go. He—" Another pause. "I found a. . . transmitter, in my suit."

Another exchanged look between the twins, identical expressions of horror on their faces.

"A transmitter?" Luke exploded, shooting to his feet. "You mean—"

Leia held her hand up. Luke, recognising that now was not the time for outbursts, sat down again.

"Palpatine is the one who gave you the suit?" Leia pressed, mind whirring. "The only one who could edit it without you knowing?" She already knew the answer, but she needed confirmation—and it came in the horribly simple jerk of her father's head. A nod.

Her voice grew shrill, then. "And you found a transmitter in it?"

Now was the time for outbursts.

Their father would not discuss their mother, or much else about his past, but they knew this much: he had been a slave. A slave on Tatooine, until the Jedi came to take him to a new kind of slavery.

And Palpatine knew that too.

For him to have put a transmitter in him. . .

"Not necessarily a transmitter," Vader clarified. "But a small device in my control box. If I ever stepped out of line, he would shut me down like a faulty droid."

Leia's head was spinning, so it was Luke who asked, "When did you find it?"

"Doctor Aphra found it when she was working for me. She got access to some blueprints of the design and spotted it within moments."

"Doctor Aphra? But you haven't worked with her since—"

"Yes," Vader said. "I've known for two years now."

It all made sense now.

The barely restrained anger that had seemed to double—triple—after that archaeologist had run off with her life.

How tight his voice always was when he reported to Palpatine, when he spoke of him. Like the words were being prised out of his gums.

"Why now?" Leia asked.

Vader turned to face her. "Because now the last of the Emperor's spies has been vetted from the Devastator"—and oh, how she flinched at that, just more of the Emperor's betrayal—"and the time is ripe to overthrow him. The situation made Trite and his other lackeys look weak—the people appointed by Palpatine failed, where you two succeeded. You are strong in comparison, and popular in the military. Now is the time to strike, while the Rebels are causing such chaos across the galaxy."

"That. . . makes sense," she admitted. And wasn't that ironic, that the lessons of politics and manipulation Palpatine had taught her were now being turned against him?

She and Luke looked at each other.

"But," Luke said, "are you sure—"

"What?" Vader's tone was tight—challenging. "Am I sure about what?"

Leia lifted her chin. "Are you sure he was to blame?" she asked flatly. "He's practically our grandfather—we're next in line to rule the Empire—"

"He bred me for power!"

Leia flinched back at the sudden malice in his voice, the room's familiar cold dropping to freezing. Frost crackled along the windows.

Vader was silent for a few more cycles of his respirator, then repeated, "He bred me for power. And I am powerful—as are the two of you. But a powerful servant is still a servant. He feels no loyalty to any of us. The moment we turn on him, he will have us destroyed as mercilessly he will destroy the Rebel spies tomorrow morning."

For a moment, no one spoke.

"I. . ." Luke tried to say, then shut his mouth again. He had never been one for words, especially for arguing with their father. That was Leia's forte.

But even Leia was clueless.

"I—" She tried. "I think we need time. . . to think about this. Process it." Stall for time, if you can, find your enemy's weakness in the time they give you, keep them talking—

"Time to decide whether or not to sell me out?"

Leia shot to her feet, offended both at the idea and the icy, disdainful tone they were said in. "You are my father," she hissed. "I will not betray you." A subtle, if inaccurate, clumsy jab at him, for betraying his 'father', the person she'd been taught by and venerating for as long as she could remember—

"Leia's right," Luke said, "I'm tired from the trip to Coruscant, and we need to be up at dawn. Preferably with impeccable shielding," he added, almost wryly. They certainly didn't want the Emperor learning of this—if, Leia realised in horror, thinking of his words to her, he didn't already know— "Goodnight, Father."

Vader was watching them. Through the Force, he felt. . . surprised. . . at their vehement reactions, but what had he been expecting? Did he understand human behaviour at all?

Actually, Leia mused, she wasn't sure he did.

"Goodnight, Luke, Leia," he said finally. "I hope we will come to an agreement in the morning."