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al-astakbar · 9 months

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☆ The Gift -- Thrawn x reader ☆

> title ☆ The Gift ☆ part 2/?

> summary ☆ As congratulations for his recent promotion to Grand Admiral, Emperor Palpatine gives Thrawn a gift -- a young woman who has been trained as a pleasure companion.

> pairing ☆ Thrawn x reader ☆ word count [3.8k] ☆ warnings for this part ☆ brief sexual language ☆ series warnings ☆ dubious consent; sexual slavery; concubine/ sex slave AU; will add more warnings as more parts are posted

>series navigation ☆ part 1 ☆ part 2 ☆ part 3 ☆ part 4 ☆ part 5 ☆ part 6 ☆ part 7

> posted on ao3

author note!! To be very clear, in this story reader is a concubine against her will and is gifted to Thrawn, but there is at no point any noncon between Thrawn and reader. Reader is never noncon with anyone, either referenced or explicitly, and there is never any explicit noncon. However, this is a darker take on Thrawn and he doesn't really have many hangups about putting his gift to use...

Neither Mirri nor Solis know where his shuttle is, and one did not stop a Grand Admiral as he was walking away to ask for clarification about something so trivial, despite you elbowing them to do just that.

They walk you to the turbolift, and just before you get on, an aide comes up and gives directions. Landing platform E-52. The lambda class shuttle. The aide leers at you openly, and wonders to his superior officer, “what do I have to do to get one of those?”

The Commander snorts. “A Prasad?” the formal term for the type of trained, indoctrinated pleasure companion popular among the Empire’s elite; you are surprised he knows it, though any good Imperial citizen would recognize what you are just from the distinctive robes. “Gain more favor than you’ll ever hope for in a lifetime. Or make friends with someone who’s got one. I hear they share the best ones around. Get invited to the right party and all you’ve got to do is wait in line for a turn.”

You stiffen and stumble, nearly managing to turn towards the two men, with no real plan of what you might say. Mirri catches you.

“Do you think he’ll be-- he’ll be nice?” You ask in a small voice once the lift doors have closed. Or at least gentle. Mirri and Solis do not answer. The walk to the platform is quick, just a short ways outside through more elegant, richly appointed halls. These ones have hanging gardens, trailing vines and foliage beneath a huge glass ceiling and bursts of flowers, the entire floor a mosaic of millions of black and white stones. You try to dawdle, slowing your pace to spend just a little more time. Given to a Grand Admiral, you will likely spend at least the next six months in space, on a warship, and you don’t know when you might be planetside again, let alone on one with greenery.

But Mirri and Solis lead you through it too quickly, and after a short walk, you are there on LP E-52.

Private platforms such as this one have small, luxurious waiting rooms, so that the senator or whoever is being flown that day does not have to wait out in the elements. Mirri and Solis choose not to use it, and you know they would have happily made you stand there in the wind, until you are bone-chilled and shivering despite the bright Coruscant sun.

Luckily-- one small mercy on this day-- the Grand Admiral arrives within minutes, walking ahead of a small contingent.

Nausea has been a constant, rising bloat in your stomach since walking into the throne room but now it threatens to overwhelm you. A wild, horrible thought comes to you, that maybe if you’re quick enough you could run for the edge of the platform, and just be… done. But you know it wouldn’t work. There are safety measures. Systems of repulsor barriers and simple old fashioned nets to catch people in case of falls or accidents.

“Be sure to mind him,” Mirri whispers to you harshly.

“The last nine to be presented before you all went to lower ranking officers or minor dignitaries—“ Solis says.

“And all were better behaved than you.” Mirri’s tone is venomous.

Then they both step back, bowing deeply to him, and you stand alone. Strong winds buffet the platform, whipping your robe against you like a sail.

Instead of his aide approaching you, the Grand Admiral himself advances. Up close, he is even more imposing of a figure, his bearing imperious and assured, his skin unmistakably blue and his hair sleek blue-black, like indigo. In this light, he looks magnificent, a paragon of an Imperial officer. His uniform is blindingly white, gold shoulder bars, silver collar insignia, and code cylinders glinting brightly, the broad expanse of his chest interrupted by the large rank plaque. The jodhpurs and black jackboots only make his legs look longer-- most Imperial officers you have seen do not carry off the look so well.

You have heard of Gifts kneeling when presented, and always thought it was stupid, but the urge to sink down in front of him pulls at you now. Somehow it would feel so natural. Just the idea of it feels traitorous to everything you believe.

“Come,” he says, bringing one white leather-gloved hand from behind his back to gesture for you to walk beside him. He is stern, but not hurried. He is a Grand Admiral, meaning everyone else bends to his schedule and never the other way around. A cadre of four black armored death troopers fall in step behind— they must be his personal guard. You gawk at them a moment too long, turning your head to look over your shoulder, then the Grand Admiral’s hand is at the small of your back.

“Watch your step,” he murmurs, a second before you trip— the hem of your robe, the uneven surface of the boarding ramp, or both— and he catches you, sets you right.

“I’m fine, I don’t need help,” you say sharply, even as your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

He lets you shrug off his assistance with another quiet word. His accent is like nothing you’ve heard before-- not that you are particularly well traveled-- but it certainly isn’t from any Core world.

“Where are we going?” you ask, feeling strange and a bit guilty for wanting to hear him talk more.

Once you, the Grand Admiral, the complement of troopers and a handful of aides are inside the small loading bay, the ramp closes with a prolonged hydraulic hiss.

“This way,” he says. You follow him through a narrow passageway to the main cabin. Unlike the rest of the shuttle, which is drab, Imperial-issue grey, this cabin is furnished with plush leather seats, what looks like a small bar, and a shiny stone surface desk in one corner, all in sleek black and white.

The Grand Admiral motions courteously for you to sit, while his aide, a pale, light haired young man in an olive-drab lieutenant’s uniform takes a post standing by the hatch you just came through.

“I meant-- are we leaving the planet? What system are we going to?”

At that moment, the shuttle’s engines kick on, and light streams into the cabin as the wings unfold while the craft slowly lifts off and rotates. Strange. From the outside it looks like the only transparisteel on the shuttle is around the cockpit.

“Yes,” the Grand Admiral says. “To my ship, the Imperial Star Destroyer Chimaera. Lieutenant Tyvo, send word ahead for the stormtroopers to begin preparing their cold weather uniforms and kit. And during the next week, have the section chiefs ensure forward chasing tractor beam targeteers run through another training cycle.”

“Yes, sir,” the lieutenant says, and immediately begins typing on his datapad.

The Grand Admiral continues speaking to the lieutenant, giving instructions about maneuvers and training schedules and meetings and briefings, and you realize he will not be sharing any more information with you. So you settle deeper into your seat-- much more comfortable than any in the austere cloister where you had spent the past year-- and gaze out the starboard viewport. The city flashes by, spire after spire, growing quickly smaller as the shuttle rises. No waiting in traffic, but of course a Grand Admiral must have his own priority lane.

“Anything else, sir?”

“No, that is all. Thank you, Lieutenant.”

You look over to find the Grand Admiral standing, as he seems to like to do, with his hands clasped behind his back. He regards you for a moment, cold and appraising, before sitting opposite, and his authoritative bearing makes you sit up straighter. Somehow his starched white uniform doesn’t wrinkle. “What is your name?”

The question gives you pause. It is customary to only speak a companion’s given name in private. “They didn’t tell you?”

“I would like to hear it from you.”

He does not seem cruel or pushy, and that unbalances you. With less reluctance than you feel you ought to have, you quietly give him your name so the Lieutenant can’t hear, and then ask his.

“Mitth’raw’nuruodo,” he says. “But you may find it easier to call me Thrawn.”

You repeat his name with a small nod. “Thrawn.”

His glowing red eyes do not have pupils, and though you can’t tell quite where he might be looking, you feel the weight of his attention pinning you down nonetheless.

You feel your face grow hot. Is he going to have you here, now? It would be well within his rights. He is entitled to anything— everything. The thought makes you squirm with anger and… something else hot and deep in your chest you can’t give a name to.

Quickly, you pull your gaze down to your lap. Demure, as you had been taught. “Sorry,” you mumble.

“For what?”

“Staring. You probably get stared at a lot.” Hold your tongue. Mirri and Solis would have seen that you were punished for this impertinence. There had been one girl who had been with you, retraining after her first master had been terribly displeased with her. At least, that is as much as you could glean. He had removed her tongue before sending her back, and the threat of having all her teeth pulled out too kept her obedient.

Thrawn raises a blue-black eyebrow. “Indeed.”

For a time, he says nothing more, but studies you closely. His eyes seem to roam over your form, and you feel somehow naked, exposed for his discernment. You watch him back, thankful for your veil once more, studying his face. His features are even, well proportioned, though severe, and his dark hair slicked back from a widow’s peak makes him distinguished. Perhaps he is considered handsome among his people. The third time he catches your gaze, you get the distinct sense that he knows exactly where you are looking.

There is a definite hunger in the way he watches you, intent and completely still. As if waiting for you to act first. The tiniest movement. You exhale slightly, and it makes the fabric covering your face flutter.

Caught again.

“Remove your veil.”

You jerk at the order, and in a split second of gut instinct, almost obey, such is the authority in his voice and bearing. Thrawn’s aide gives a start too, fumbling the data pad he’s holding.

“Give us the room, Lieutenant,” Thrawn says without looking away from you, and his aide hurries out.

Thrawn rises, unfolding his long limbs gracefully, and crosses to you in two steps. “My apologies.” He stands at his full height, broad shoulders square and hands behind his back. It gives him an infuriating air of calm superiority. And still, you can’t shake a foreboding sense that he is very, very dangerous, and not to be crossed. “It is customary for those of your position to remain covered at all times, except during… intimate situations. Is it not?”

“Y-yes. Yes sir,” you say, relieved that he understands.

A beat passes, and then he prompts: “we are alone now.”

You feel your face heat at the implication. “I don’t want to.”

His mouth presses into a thin line. “That is of no concern to me.”

“I don’t want to kiss you.”

His red eyes gleam. “It was not a request.”

You stand up, meaning to move away, but it only puts you closer to him, and his height dwarfs yours. “I don’t want to lay with you!”

“Is that what you imagine necessitates showing your face?” His voice drops to nearly a whisper, full of dark promise. “When I fuck you, it need not be so personal.”

At that, your heart thuds in your chest.

Before you can think it through, you try to slap him. He catches your wrists, dispassionate and unflinching as you struggle against him. “Enough. There will be no need for…theatrics. I was given to understand that those of your Order are all volunteers. Is that not true in your case?”

You can’t help your wide-eyed expression. It is an open secret that many young men and women were pressed into this sort of service, and your Order is no exception-- but nobody spoke that secret aloud. And it certainly wasn’t brazenly stated by an Imperial Grand Admiral to his new companion. You nod in confirmation, hoping that this isn’t some sort of trap or game to get you to admit something he could punish you for.

“I see,” he says, considering for a moment. “Then, you have a choice to make. An unwilling partner is of little use to me.”

You wrench against his grip, but it’s futile. “Oh so I guess that makes it all right then. You don’t want to— to fuck me but you’re going to anyway,” you say hotly. He doesn’t rise to the accusation, merely waits for a beat, allowing you to continue. When you say nothing more, he speaks.

“As I said, I would prefer your cooperation, but it is not required. However, there are… complexities… to our situation. Our Emperor—“

“Your Emperor.”

“--Will expect me to fully enjoy the gift he has given me. This is not in question. He will know, if I do not take you to bed. I have no intention of slighting him by refusing his generosity.”

“But how would he know! Couldn’t you just tell him that you have?”

“No,” he says, his voice cold and soft.

You stare at him for a moment, breath catching suddenly at how close you are, and then you start struggling again. “Let go of me!”

His hands tighten around your wrists like shackles, squeezing so hard it feels like your bones grind together.

“Please!” A note of panic, breath tight in your chest. It had been your last, foolish hope that whoever you were given to would be understanding, would find the whole practice barbaric. “Just let me go, pretend I ran away, just leave me somewhere!”

Thrawn, evidently, is not that person.

“Think,” he presses, red eyes flashing with impatience, though he reins back in to calm just as quickly. “Under what circumstances might you leave my service?”

It takes a moment for you to realize that this is not a rhetorical question. Most of the time Mirri and Solis had considered answers to such questions as just another form of backtalk, worthy of punishment.

“When I ask you a question, I expect an answer,” he says, rather sharply.

Another trap? You try to gather your thoughts, calm your breathing, but your pulse is wild with high emotion, and your voice shakes. “I could… run away.”

“Yes. What else?”

You draw in a deep breath, and smell the starch and wool of his uniform. “You could let me go.”

He nods but stays silent, expectant. A third option? You frown, then venture: “someone else takes me. Without your permission. Steals me away.”

“Indeed.”

Your mind flashes to the ones who were returned broken and maimed. “I could misbehave,” you say, with a touch of defiance.

“Yes, you could,” he agrees. “The circumstances of you leaving my ship would be altogether unpleasant, but more so for you than for me. You are a gift that cannot be refused, so your removal would be necessitated by your own behavior. Now, what do you imagine the consequences would be like?”

You swallow thickly and shake your head, unable to find the words.

“At best, placed with somebody else with less concern for your… consent. At worst…” his voice trails off, letting you reach the obvious conclusion silently.

He is right, which is all the more infuriating to admit because of the matter-of-fact way he had stated it. Gifts who came back were, if deemed ‘salvageable’, subjected to months of remedial conditioning and then reassigned, almost always to someone less desirable than the previous recipient. Lower ranking, or particularly hideous or cruel. It was whispered that there was one Outer Rim Governor whose appetite for a fresh face had been the demise of at least four Gifts.

“There are functions, too,” he adds quietly, with just a hint of something in his voice that you imagine to be embarrassment or reluctance, “ that I will be expected to attend, with you by my side.”

“And by functions you mean…?”

“You might call it a party. Others who have been recipients of the Emperor’s goodwill would also be there, with their gifts. We will be… observed.”

He waits for that to sink in.

No… You have an idea of what he means, and it makes your blood run cold.

“It is imperative that we demonstrate our appreciation of His generosity.”

Your stomach turns. Not quite ready to confront the reality of what he’s telling you. “Can’t you just send a ‘thank you’ holo or something?”

He remains silent.

“How… how many people?”

“Hundreds.”

“Hundreds…” you repeat hollowly. “Observed… doing what? Having dinner together? Do you fuck me right there on the table between courses or could we get away with waiting until after the meal and finding a dark corner?”

Thrawn says nothing for a moment, just gives you a rather irritated look. “Understand,” he says flatly, “that I did not ask for you. You are a distraction.”

You have to swallow down the insult of this rejection.

“Then leave me at some spaceport. Outer Rim, I don’t care.” You say, voice cracking. One more try, even though he’s already convinced you of the futility of it all.

“I did not say I don’t want you. But— as I said, I cannot. If I let you escape, I show incompetence, and lack of control over those in my care. If I let you go, it would be seen as rejecting the Emperor’s goodwill, disobeying his command, even.”

It clicks in your mind, then. If you do not give him a certain degree of cooperation, it could hurt his career and reputation— whatever that might be. He is concerned enough to mention it, though his attempts to cajole you into compliance so far have been baffling. This strange Grand Admiral claims to have no regard for your wishes but he is actually trying to convince you instead of ripping off your clothes and holding you down. He’s taken the time to explain it all and seems to want you to understand his reasoning.

You take a deep breath, trying to slow your heart pounding. Thrawn still holds you close, and he is so tall his rank plaque is just above eye level for you.

“The embroidery on your robe and veil — tell me about it.”

This catches you off guard. “I—it’s part of our traditional— I don’t know what to call it. Our uniform, I guess. It’s added during our Vigil.”

“It is very fine work.” He sounds intrigued, and picks up the hem, holding it closer to look at and brushing his thumb over the stitching. “And the other two with you before, their garments had similar work to yours, also done in the same type of thread, though not as intricate. The motifs were simpler, and the execution… adequate. This was done with great skill and care.” He grasps your wrist in such a way as to closer inspect the embroidery; it draws you clear to him so you are pressed against his body. You squirm, knowing he can feel your breasts against him, as you can feel his heavy belt, and that he’s half-hard and hot against your stomach.

“Be still,” he murmurs, making no effort to conceal his arousal. He takes a few more moments examining the work, then lets it fall.

“Now,” he says. “Will you remove your veil?”

With a cooler head, you realize he had done nothing to punish your outburst, nor any of your other little jibes. Stars, you had tried to hit him and he hadn’t even been angry about it. This doesn’t mean you’re safe with him. Doesn’t earn him even a little trust. But for now, it seems wise to acquiesce. This will be okay, or at least not so bad. He will not demean or abuse you. And he is right. There is no good way out of this, for either of you.

Heart pounding-- no one outside the cloister on Coruscant has seen your bare face in over a year-- you sweep the fabric up and over, so that it trails down your back as if you were a bride. The change in light makes you blink and squint for a moment. Thrawn leans forward, as if he can’t help himself, and strokes a lock of your hair off your face.

You try not to flinch away from him, nor to let any emotion show.

But he traces his thumb over your lips and you feel a hot prickle of tears that you can’t hold back. It would almost be easier if he were cruel.

“When they train you,” he says, voice dangerously quiet, “do they fuck you?”

You feel a pulse through your core at his question, and immediately shove the feeling down. “Why? You don’t want someone who’s been used before?” Mouthy again. His expression stays mild.

“Previous experiences do not concern me. I only wish to know what your training entailed.”

“No. They don’t. In most cases the recipients want to be able to be the first, you know, to be in control of…that.” You finish lamely, a vivid blush creeping up your neck.

“It is believed the recipient will wish to shape the desires of his companion,” Thrawn offers.

“Yes. Not because of anything like— like purity.”

He takes a moment to consider this, then asks, “are you pure?”

You blink, meeting his eyes, and immediately regret it, as you feel tears well up anew. You quickly look aside, and can see the dark edge of space out the viewport, just where it meets the muddy orange-gold of the atmosphere. “No,” you say, then look right back at him, lifting your chin. “Are you?”

One blue-black eyebrow goes up. “No.”

Then he lets you go, saying nothing more during the ride except to direct your attention to the Chimaera on approach. It is a magnificent ship, and you press against the transparisteel trying to see more of it, though its bulk quickly fills the entire view. On the underbelly of the ship is painted a huge, stylized chimaera, twin heads crossing over the wedge line. You have to restrain yourself from asking him a million questions about everything you see as you pass beneath the bow and into its massive shadow.

An escort of four TIE fighters sweeps in to escort the shuttle to the hangar bay. The distinctive high roar of their engines is somehow audible inside the shuttle. You had never understood that, though admittedly your knowledge of physics and space travel is limited. You almost ask Thrawn. He would know, and he is still standing quite close to you. You can feel him at your back, watching the same panorama, and the one time you brave a glance over your shoulder at him, his gaze is distant and his expression inscrutable.

☆ link to part 3 ☆

☆ join tag list ☆ <- this is the easiest way to make sure your request is recorded, however anyone is also welcome to dm me if they want to be added

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#thrawn #grand admiral thrawn #thrawn fic #thrawn fanfiction #thrawn x reader #thrawn x you #thrawn x y/n #mitth'raw'nuruodo #thrawn fanfic

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vaehbae · 7 months

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The silence was deafening.

Okay, it wasn't *technically* silent. There was a soft humming coming from outside the purrgil that Sabine and Ezra were currently hitching a ride in with their stolen Lambda-class Imperial shuttle. Ahsoka and Huyang had decided to stay on Peridea to investigate the world's connection to the ancient Force-sensitive species known as the Zeffo, leaving the two former rebels with a vague promise that they would see her again "at the turn of the tide."

"Cryptic Jedi messages never sit well with me", the Mandalorian thought to herself as she sat quietly in the copilot seat beside Ezra.

Gods, were things ever awkward with Ezra right now. After Ahsoka had found them on Peridea, they had all gone to the Great Mothers' hideout in a last-ditch attempt to stop Thrawn. After subduing and capturing them, he had blown the lid off of Sabine's lie by omission, telling Ezra that the reason she was even there was because she had given his allies the means to find him. The Mandalorian had broken down into tears because of her guilt, and all Ezra coould do at that moment was send her comforting energy through the Force and assure her that it was okay. After they escaped and said goodbye to Ahsoka, they managed to get this old decommissioned Lambda working again and hopped the Purrgil Express back to their galaxy.

Now, two hours later, they still hadn't talked about anything.

"Ezra", she began, "Listen, I'm sorry."

"You could have just told me, Sabine", he said bluntly while continuing to stare straight ahead, "I wouldn't have been mad at you." Her eyes widened at this revelation. "But... you *are* mad at me? Because I lied?"

"I'm *upset* that you didn't tell me the truth. But no, I'm not mad at you."

"But... but I... I betrayed your trust. I doomed the galaxy to another war..."

"You fulfilled my trust", he corrected, "I trusted you to come find me and bring me home, and you succeeded. Sure, Thrawn's on his way back, too, but we beat him once, we can beat him again..." He reached over and clasped her hand. "... together."

Sabine interlocked her fingers and smiled. "Together."

In her mind all she could think was "I want to marry him."

See!! People miss this point; Ezra would be upset but he wouldn't be mad! And GRASGAH!!! For Sabine did what she had to do, Ezra was counting on her and she did it! Even if they have to do the whole show over again, then so be it.

Anyways! Whoever made this! Well done! U think it really accomplishes the soft and slow approach of Sabine's tell Ezra was happened.

#ezra bridger #sabine wren #ezrabine #sabezra #ask fic #fanfic #ship #starwars rebels #forgiving #angst/fluff

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girl-among-mts · 1 year

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Part Thirteen

Rose had never been aboard an Imperial corvette before, and she’d never taken Hux to be one of those classic starship enthusiasts either, but there she was, admiring the meticulous restoration work of the captain’s lounge, right down to the Galactic Empire-era trim around the window seats.

“I thought Sienar only manufactured the Lambda-class,“ she said, admiring the view of Syris floating out in space.

“This was a prototype,” Hux replied as he finished up his reports on his datapad. “A joint venture between Cygnus Spaceworks and SFS. Only a handful ever came off the assembly line. This one was languishing in a junkyard before I rescued her.”

Rose turned from the window with a sly look. “Did you seriously invite me all the way up here just to show off your dusty old shuttle?”

“Why?” He quirked a brow in her direction, setting aside the datapad. “Are you impressed?”

She snorted, arms crossed, lingering in silence before admitting, “I mean yeah, a little. It’s basically impossible to get your hands on these kinds of ships nowadays. And the credits to restore it to its original condition? Phew. Don’t tell me you’re skimming off of Order accounts, Hux.”

“I can assure you,” he said, leaving his work behind to join her at the viewport, “I’ve amassed enough personal wealth over the years to do what I please.”

That shouldn’t sound so seductive considering /how/ those credits were probably earned, but Rose always did have a bit of a fetish for the finer things.

She watched as Hux pressed a concealed button behind one of the seats, the backrest folding down to reveal a small liquor compartment.

“Okay, now that’s definitely not stock.”

He smirked. “I might have made a few minor modifications.”

“I bet.” Who knew what else he had installed around here. Maybe she should get to the bottom of his obviously nefarious plans—

Hux poured a finger of amber liquid and handed it over to her.

— which apparently included getting her intoxicated.

“Better be the good stuff,” Rose muttered, waiting for Hux to pour his own glass and take a sip himself.

“For you, my dear? Of course.”

Satisfied it wasn’t poison, she tossed down the shot, her throat and cheeks burning. Hux promptly refilled their glasses.

“Going a little hard on buttering me up, Hux,” she said, swirling her whiskey. “What is it you /really/ want?”

Hux feigned an air of hurt. “Questioning my motives, Tico? How rude. I can’t simply desire to check up on my favorite little rebel?”

She gave him a look.

“Alright, then,” he said haughtily. “I have a proposal for you.”

Rose felt the air stutter in her lungs. “What kind of proposal?”

She should have known this wasn’t just some personal call; Hux always schemes upon schemes. Her narrowed gaze roamed over his person as if his tricks were hidden somewhere on his impeccable uniform.

“One in which we both get what we want.” He shifted closer, towering over her short stature, gazing down at her with a glint in his eyes. That gaze of his was hungry.

“Oh yeah?” Rose lifted her chin, all too aware of their close proximity. Her body was suddenly buzzing, keyed up for a fight. “And how could you possibly know what it is I want?”

His gaze darkened, but not in anger. A thrill rushed through her. “I think, by now, I do have some idea.”

Stars, she wanted to wipe that self-important expression right off his face. By any means necessary.

"Let's hear it then, Hux." She poked him in the front of his uniform for emphasis, hitting his rather sturdy chest. "I'm /all/ ears."

#gingerrose #armitage hux #rose tico #general hux #gingerrosevss #prompt #microfic #canon divergent au

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takadasaiko · 1 year

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A Flicker of Light Chapter Eight (a Star Wars fic)

Story Summary: A canon divergent AU in which Luke Skywalker is raised within the Empire to be either his father's heir as a Sith Lord… or his replacement.

Chapter Summary: Luke returns to Lothal with his father.

FFN II AO3

---

With the wide reach of the Galactic Empire, it was entirely conceivable that whatever planet Mara Jade found herself on for a mission, she would never have need to see again. She certainly hadn't given Lothal a second thought until she had received orders to return and had heard - entirely by accident, of course - that Darth Vader had been tasked with bringing the growing rebel problem under control where his Grand Inquisitor had been unable to do so. And where Vader went, there was a shadow in the form of a teenager that followed, though he might not be a shadow much longer in the way the name Natus had started to spread with every rumour imaginable attached to it. Darth Vader's son, and if Vader were Palpatine's heir apparent, Natus was Vader's with all that that entailed.

Rumours were often embellished in her experience. She hadn't spoken to Luke often in the last year that he'd spent on the Executioner with his father, but she knew him. Mara thought she probably knew him better than anyone else and half the things she heard from officers and stormtroopers that had no real idea who she was weren't even in the realm of possibility. Not that she would tell them that, or anyone for that matter. She knew Luke, but if he had any chance of thriving in the lot life had handed him, the galaxy had to see him as the son of the Empire's most dreaded enforcer.

Though it would be interesting to see how he'd changed. She imagined that this mission to Lothal would give her just that opportunity, even if it was a bit strange that with a Sith Lord and his son on planet that the Emperor's Hand had been ordered there as well.

It wasn't that knowing, sometimes bordering-on-mischievous smile that met her as the ramp unfolded from the Lambda class shuttle she'd landed in, but the face of a man dressed in black, the insignia on his uniform identifying him as a special agent in the ISB. It took her a fraction of a second longer than she would have liked to place him in her surprise to see him rather than Luke. Agent Alexsandr Kallus. He'd been the one to come in after she and Luke had left a year prior. The fact that he hadn't either been shunted off to the Outer Rim or simply Force-choked as soon as Vader had arrived meant he was at least competent at his job. Hard to believe if he hadn't cleared the planet yet.

"Jade," the ginger agent greeted, gaze locked and studying her. "I am -"

"Agent Kallus," she supplied, making her way down the ramp and shoving her surprise - because it certainly wasn't disappointment - firmly to the back of her mind. "I know who you are. I take it you have the details of my assignment?" All the Emperor had sent her with was the understanding that a list of rebel sympathizers had been cultivated on this planet. Most individuals were well connected and it would be difficult at best to bring them in, but there were other ways to make sure they stayed in line. Making an example of one of their cohorts often did the trick to pull the others back in their place without disrupting the delicate balance on an industrially important planet.

"I do. If you don't mind walking during the debrief, I'll get you set up."

They started towards the base itself. "Any reason they're sending ISB agents as errand boys?"

"Were you expecting someone else in particular?"

If he knew the answer to the question or just wanted her to think he did, Mara wasn't sure, but it was clear he wasn't going to give her any more information than she strictly needed. That was fine. If it became important she had her own ways of finding out. Not even the Imperial Security Bureau was beyond the reach of the Emperor's Hand.

She heard the barest snorts of amusement from him before he began speaking, handing her a small tablet. "Margon Visra is a socialite."

"I've spent some time here. She must be one of the few."

"She is. Old money, the Visra family owned a tremendous amount of land in Capital City and they still manage the leases on that land."

"And well compensated for it," Mara mused as she slid her finger along the touchscreen of the tablet. "Where did the intel come from?"

"Originally, an interrogation overseen directly by Lord Vader. You'll find the details available there."

The interrogation had named several people that had been marked as lower priority. Margon Visra was the one of interest to the Empire, if it did turn out that she was a rebel sympathizer. "You think she's funneling her family money to them?"

"That is the running theory," Kallus answered as he came to a stop at a door. "Private offices, for your convenience. You'll have access to the base—" he handed her a code cylinder — "and any support you need. We've limited the number of personnel that have been alerted to your presence, as instructed, but Lieutenant List will be available for anything else you may require."

Mara gave a brief nod of acknowledgment and reached for the control on the door. As the ISB agent turned to leave, her fingers hovered there. "Agent Kallus, there is something before you go. I understand Lord Vader is on planet."

"He is," Kallus answered slowly and she saw faint lines as he furrowed his brow in anticipation of what the request might be.

"I'd like to borrow his son for part of my investigation."

"His son?"

"Natus. Yes." Kallus looked ready to argue that particularly weighty request and Mara offered him a smile. "If Lord Vader protests, just remind him it's the Emperor's Hand making the request."

"Of course," Kallus said tightly and turned on heel, the sense of apprehension following him out.

Mara's smile grew just a little as she let herself into the office to read up on all the details intelligence hadn't dared to send out even over encrypted communications.

—

It was rare that Luke found himself answering to anyone but his father or the Emperor. It was typically others that had started answering to him. The 501st's loyalty was absolute, the Inquisitors carried out their orders sent down, and any additional military personnel jumped to do his father's bidding and, by extension, his own. The return to Lothal to clean up the Grand Inquisitor's mess should have put him in a place of command. And it did, mostly, with the exception of Grand Moff Tarkin.

The Grand Moff was exhausting. Every order he gave, every decision made, all seemed to be his own personal expression of what he thought was power. It would have been easy enough to ignore like any other officer squabbles if he hadn't thought that he had some sort of control over Luke himself. It was as if the man was personally offended by the fact that Luke had never been through the Imperial Academy and felt he should be reminded of what Tarkin thought was his place. And even though Luke could feel his father's irritation with the man, he'd been instructed not to directly counter him. Why, Luke couldn't fathom, but it was like a breath of fresh air the moment the old, dried up windbag left Lothal to handle business elsewhere.

The roar of the TIE engines shook the mountains as he dipped in the sky, not bothering to hide the smile as he tilted the fighter, barely scraping through a narrow pass. He hadn't flown in weeks and even though he hadn't broken through the planet's atmosphere, it still felt like freedom. No obnoxious Moff, no twitchy governor, and no ever-elusive rebels that he was relatively sure weren't even on the planet anymore. Just him and the controls under his fingertips and —

Return.

It was less of a word and more of a feeling conveyed with far more weight than was necessary over the bond that he shared with his father. The order slammed into him hard enough that he physically lurched back against his seat, having to move quickly to correct his fighter's control column and even the craft out.

Yes, Father, he returned, hoping that the disappointment didn't ring too loudly. If it did, it wasn't acknowledged. Whatever had cut his flight time short had his father distracted. Maybe they had found the rebels after all.

A few minutes and a quick flight over the plains later, Luke set his TIE down on the landing pad, his father and the ISB agent they had been working with already waiting for him there. There was something about the mood that he couldn't quite put his finger on.

Luke popped the top of his fighter and used the Force to propel himself up, boot lightly touching the outer shell to give him the additional leverage he needed to clear it and jump to the ground below. He landed, Agent Kallus quirking an eyebrow at him, but his father wasn't so amused at the display.

"Your presence has been requested."

Luke rocked forward to follow as his father abruptly turned, stalking deeper into the hangar. The teen remained silent, waiting for him to continue, but was surprised when Kallus was the one that handed him a tablet. "The Emperor's Hand is on Lothal. She asked for you personally."

A title, not a name. Interesting. Despite not being able to keep the rebels at bay, Kallus had proven himself resourceful and clever, two qualities that had likely saved his life when Darth Vader himself had been sent to clean up the mess. Luke wondered if even he hadn't been able to uncover Mara's name or if he was merely being respectful of the place she held in Palpatine's inner court.

"You are dismissed," Vader said as his son skimmed the details of Mara's mission.

He waited until Kallus had turned, likely off to keep a careful eye on Minister Tua that Father seemed convinced would be the key to luring the rebels in. If the Force had revealed something to him, it hadn't to Luke. Maybe because he was needed somewhere else now. "Looks like Mara's going to be the final —"

"She does not need you for this. If it is sentiment or an attempt to flaunt the meager power she holds-"

"Not so meager," Luke countered and immediately felt his father's temper flare. He raised his hands, palms outward in mock surrender before glancing around to confirm they had space to speak. He lowered his voice anyway. Clearly his father's paranoia was at a height today. "Let's play the game. If you push back and she tells Palpatine—" not that it was very likely. Mara's pride had never been that easily wounded - "we come under more scrutiny. More scrutiny means more time with Tarkin…."

His father gave a soft snort. "Tarkin is nothing."

"They say he holds your leash," Luke answered, the phrase he'd heard tossed around when the troops thought he wasn't listening still making him bristle. "He's here to watch us. Mara's here to do her job, unless we make that difficult for her."

"You've missed her."

The denial danced on his tongue before he swallowed it, opting instead for the truth. "Of course I have. She's my friend."

"Sentiment then."

"A little."

"You'll be needed. Not at this moment, but soon."

"And I'll be here. Promise." He flashed his father a wide grin and he wondered if he rolled his eyes behind the lenses of his mask. It certainly felt like it.

"Go, my son, but return as soon as I call."

"Don't I always?"

—

Mara was deep in research when Luke arrived, and at first he wasn't sure she'd heard the door slide open. She had three different tablets and a console at her disposal, bent over and jotting down notes. Her hair was longer, the red-gold strands tied loosely back and those sharp green eyes darting from one screen to the next. Her face was a little thinner, cheekbones a little more defined, and she looked older than she had when they'd parted ways. He supposed they both did. Somehow a year had flashed past him at the speed of light, but as he stood in the doorway and watched her, Luke realized just how much he'd missed her.

"How likely is it that you'd be able to get a last second invite to a socialite's gala?" Mara asked without bothering to look up.

Luke blinked in surprise, the abrupt question throwing him for a second. He shook his head a little, intentionally resetting. "Well, no one on planet is going to tell Darth Vader's son no, but it's not like I make a habit of it." Or had ever done it, if he were honest. "Hi, by the way."

The pointed tease finally drew her gaze up and it traveled him up and down. "Hi," she echoed and stood. "I guess it's been a while. Are you taller?"

"A little. You're not."

Red eyebrows darted up. "Rude."

"Accurate," Luke answered, flashing her what he hoped was a charming grin. It was supposed to be at any rate. Under her studying gaze it just felt awkward and clumsy.

"Now you definitely owe me a favour," she answered, and her smile was easy. "If I've got you for a while?"

"Of course you've got me," he answered too quickly to actually think the words through. He cleared his throat. "We're, uh… Our assignment is to handle the rebels on Lothal, so technically, helping you is just an extent of that."

"Good to know." She locked eyes with him and he felt like he was frozen in place. "The socialite is Margon Visra. Seventeen years old, native to Lothal." She reached for one of the tablets she'd been reading on when he'd entered and a projection of a tan woman with short, dark hair and eyes as bright blue as the Great Western Sea on Coruscant. Luke hadn't met her, but he recognized her from the overview Kallus had provided him with.

"She's on a list that has been cultivated here. I don't see anything new. What brought you in?"

"General threat analysis. If she is financing a rebel cell, it has to be handled quickly and quietly. If her whole family is involved it's an even bigger problem."

"And you're thinking walking in with me is the way to handle it quietly? They know whose son I am. And it won't be like before where we just slip in and out. If we go in there with an invitation, everyone at that party will know as soon as we walk in."

"And all eyes will be on you."

"And you."

Mara flashed the same smile that she used to show off just before dragging him out of his bedroom window when they were kids off to have an adventure in the lower levels of Coruscant. "Who says I'm coming in with you?"

Luke frowned at that. "I'm the decoy?"

Her smile didn't fade, but it did soften ever so slightly. "Who else would I trust at my back?"

And just like that, the increasingly infamous Lord Natus found himself agreeing to be the decoy.

—

Mara risked a glance at him from the back of their behicle as they zipped through Lothal's Capital City. Luke had changed a great deal in the last year. It wasn't just that he'd gotten a little taller, finally growing into the black robes he favoured a bit better, or that his hair had darkened with as much time as he'd spent away from direct sunlight. It wasn't even the confidence in which he held himself now with his chin tilted, back straight, and shoulders squared like he'd just graduated from the Imperial Academy. It was all of that, but even more, it was his presence in the Force. It was… hard to pin down. Heavier wasn't the right word for it. Weightier, maybe. And sharper, like a weapon ready to be wielded with terrifying precision. Not that she should really be surprised. The Emperor had sent Luke off with her to gain some basic skills in the field, but she wasn't the one that would prepare him to be a Sith. Vader would put him through the fires for that one, and it wasn't surprising that some of the innocence that had somehow remained a dominant force in him for so long had been burned out as his father prepared him for that. It wasn't surprising, but it was a little sad, despite Mara not knowing exactly why.

"What?"

The question startled Mara out of her thoughts and she found a familiar set of blue eyes watching her now. How strange it would be when they finally turned Sith-gold. "Just thinking."

"Staring," he chuckled, tilting his head in amusement. "Have I changed that much?"

"Yes."

A little of his confidence wavered at her bluntness. "But in a good way, right?"

Mara shrugged. "Just different." She felt his disappointment rather than saw it, and she found herself smiling just a little as she nudged his boot with her heeled shoe. "You saying I haven't changed at all?"

"A lot, but in a good way."

"How so?"

If she didn't know better, she would have thought that she saw the faintest hints of red on his cheeks. He recovered quickly and nodded towards the front of their escort vehicle. "We're going to let you out, circle, and then Jom'll let me out down the street. I'd ask if you needed a good way in, but…"

"I can climb in a dress," Mara promised with a smirk. "Just make sure Visra's attention is on you."

"I don't think that'll be a problem."

There was something about the way he said it that brought more questions than answers, but they'd have to be saved for later. "See you on the other side," she promised and stepped out of the vehicle, slipping easily around another to use the lineup to block her path from any curious security that had been hired for the party. She took in the sights between the vehicles, from the security postings - three visible where guests were exiting their vehicles and another two at the door - to the guests dolled up in their finery, many looking as if they had come from off world, and finally to the house itself that towered over any other she'd seen on Lothal. The Visra family has done exceedingly well under Imperial rule, both for themselves and as a mediator between the Empire and the locals. If Margon was, in fact, funneling their family money to rebels and it got out, it could prove a massive disruption on the planet.

Mara rounded the corner to where all of the intel she'd been able to scrape together in such a limited time had indicated would be her best point of entry. And there it was: a nice hole in security that gave her access to a second story balcony that she should have no trouble reaching with a little help from the Force.

She was halfway to the wall when she felt a prickle of warning followed immediately by a voice. "May we help you find something?"

Apparently her intel hadn't been entirely thorough. A security patrol moved towards her, an air of distrust hanging off of him. Mara drew in a steadying breath as he approached her. "I don't need help. You may go."

"This is a restricted area."

Well, so much for that trick. Time for Plan B. "I just got turned around. Could you point me in the direction of the front door?"

"I'll need to see your invite."

"My escort has that."

"Then let's see if we can find him."

The last argument danced on Mara's tongue, but from the look the security guard was giving her, he was well past any excuse she could muster, no matter how good it was. She'd just have to find another way in. She was nothing if not adaptable.

—

Luke had Jom drop him off at the back of the line so that, perhaps, he wouldn't draw too much attention until he made it to the door. There were some familiar faces littered amongst Lothal's party-goers, including a few high ranking Imperial elites. Interesting. He wondered if that was part of Visra's cover. She wouldn't be the first rebel sympathizer to hide in plain sight and think she was safer for it. They always found them, though. They were always uncovered.

He let his eyes flutter closer for just a moment and reached out through the Force, letting his senses explore the feelings that surrounded him. Arrogance. Pride. Anxiety. Anger. Tampered down frustration.

Wait.

Blue eyes popped back open just in time to see Mara being escorted by a guard. The last one was definitely her. He let his gaze drift back around to the door where Margon Visra had appeared and had spotted him. Strange. There was more excitement rolling off her than he would have expected, though apprehension was tangled up with it. She flashed a pretty smile and bowed a little. "My Lord Natus, such an honour to have you here."

"I appreciate that last minute accommodation," he answered and she beamed at the praise.

"When I heard that you'd reached out, I immediately—"

Mara approached from behind, cutting her off. "Natus, could you please explain to this imbecile that we were invited."

Luke's gaze turned cold as he fixed it on the security guard. "She is my guest," he said sharply.

"For the Empire's sake, let her alone," Visra half-squeaked. She turned back to Luke and Mara, the groveling reminding Luke of an Imperial officer that knew his moments were numbered. "My deepest apologies, Lord Natus. Mistress…."

"Kavra Cee," Mara provided and looped her arm through Luke's.

"A pleasure and an honour to welcome you both into my home tonight. Please."

The pair moved past her and into the house, and Luke could practically feel Visra's gaze following him. "I take it things didn't go as planned?" he murmured so only Mara could hear.

"There's always a Plan B. What do you think of our hostess?"

"A bit eager to please, but if that's because she loves or hates the Empire, I'm not sure."

"That is what we're here to find out."

Luke risked more than a sideways look at her as she let go of his arm, her gaze sweeping the crowd.

"You weren't wrong about people knowing who you are. I would have thought you'd keep a lower profile than that."

"We've been on Lothal for a few weeks. Word spreads." He glanced out, but instead of instantly turning back to their own conversations as most did when they realized they had Vader's son's attention, eyes remained locked. Just not on him. "You know they're looking at you, right?"

"Only because I walked in with you," she answered casually.

"Not just that."

She turned her full attention on him. "Oh yeah? Do tell, flyboy."

Luke felt what had to be an absurdly goofy grin take hold without permission and on impulse he extended a hand.

She took it, letting him draw her close and never breaking eye contact. "You know we're here to work, right?" she asked very quietly.

"And what better way to inconspicuously move around the room?"

"Do you even know how to dance?"

"I trust you to lead me."

She flashed him a grin of her own and Luke wondered if she'd always been that pretty or if it was a result of the dress and the heels and the atmosphere. No. He'd noticed it while she'd been pouring over her research. It was just Mara.

While she let him lead her to the center of the large room, once they were there she subtly took the lead. No one else would have noticed how she directed his hands and how he followed her trained steps in a dance that let them both have enough leeway to look beyond the other. Even so, she still hadn't broken eye contact.

"Can you keep a secret?" she asked softly.

"You know I can."

She snorted a laugh. "Do I?"

"For you, I'll take it to the grave," he swore.

She seemed to weigh that for a moment before murmuring a confession so quiet he almost missed it. "I missed you."

"I missed you too," Luke answered without hesitation. "I —"

It's time.

The order over the bond slammed into him as hard - perhaps harder - than it had that morning. It caused him to stumble under the weight and Mara reached a hand to steady him, her expression worried. He let his mouth drop open, prepared to explain when the first order was followed by a now that left no room to argue. "I have to go. I'm sorry. I thought —"

An emotion he couldn't quite place flickered across her expression before a careful mask of indifference was set into place. "Lord Vader calls," she answered, her hand dropping from his arm. "As he does."

"I have a duty," he tried, but she wasn't buying the explanation.

"You got me in. That's all I really needed from you."

The words dug deep and he had the strangest feeling they were meant to. "I am sorry."

Something behind him drew her attention away and he risked a glance. Visra stood halfway into the hall, her back to the party, and she didn't look happy with whoever she was speaking to just out of the line of sight. She huffed, and stepped fully into the hall, pulling more of Mara's attention.

Another sharp tug on the bond provided Luke with a strong reminder that his presence had been demanded. "I'll be back as soon as I can," he promised, but Mara was already on her way.

With a huff of frustration he started for the exit. There was no time to waste. For either of them.

—

Much to her frustration, Luke hadn't been wrong about eyes being on her. The moment he was gone there was a man to her left offering her a drink and another to her right asking her name. If she's been irked at the way he'd bailed so instantly at Vader's beck and call before, this only intensified it.

Which did absolutely nothing, Mara reminded herself. Vader might be playing games, but Luke was doing what he did: trying to find a way to please both parties. It wasn't his fault that his father was playing games. Luke had gotten her in and only time would tell if Vader continued to drag him where he wasn't needed just to help ease his own paranoia. For now, it was time she found a way to her answers.

She ducked away and left the two men with their drinks and their dull questions, the fresher her excuse. She slipped back into the hall that Visra had disappeared into and found it empty. A quick glance in either direction showed the house staff in and out of the kitchen at one end and a set of circular stairs at the other. If the layout of the house was accurate, office spaces would be the next floor up and the bedrooms the floor above that. The key was not getting spotted heading up the stairs.

A server left the kitchen, hands full and focus on the party on the other side of the hallway. Mara slipped a finger through the back thong of her heel, sliding it off and repeating the movement on the second so that she could move quickly and quietly as soon as it was time. Her gaze was fixed on the movement beyond the wide door and into the kitchen, and she let the Force guide her. As soon as the feeling struck she rocked forward. Every step was quick, light, and intentional as she darted down the hall in the opposite direction of the kitchen and took the stairs up, not slowing until she reached the first turn and was out of sight of any would-be curious staff.

As she made it to the top of the stairs, she could hear muffled voices from down the hall. She followed the sound, hedging close to the far wall as she drew closer.

"…think that they can come onto our planet and take our factories," a low, rough voice was saying.

"Our people," a woman answered, but it didn't sound like Visra.

Mara reached into the folds of her dress to a hidden pocket, pulling a device out and clicking it on.

"We've let them. Fifteen years we've let them."

A projection of Rough Voice's face appeared from her device, showing off sharp, thin features and a hard line to his mouth. Dark hair was slicked back and he couldn't have been much older than Mara. With his face appeared a name: Tob Gaman.

"I'm not sure let is the right word."

The device recalculated, this time producing a woman who wore a headscarf over dark hair and equally dark, piercing eyes. Seyda Cors.

"It is if we do nothing about it. Then we're no better than those people downstairs. I still can't believe Visra brought us here of all places with that crowd."

Visra. Now she was getting somewhere.

There was a sound from the opposite side of the room like a door had slid open and shuffling followed. "Your sister finally release you or has she turned us over to the authorities?" Gaman demanded.

There was a low chuckle from their newly arrived companion that was decidedly not Margon Visra. "My sister wouldn't want to risk her reputation."

Mara looked down as the device worked through its calculations to fit the voice with a file. A new face popped up: young and smug, with eyes just as blue as Margon's. Doman Visra, her brother. Well that was an interesting turn of events. It looked like the Empire had suspected the wrong Visra sibling.

"If he'd come here tonight…." Cors said, almost too softly for Mara to pick up on.

"But he didn't," Doman Visra answered. "And by the meet next week, we'll have all of our security in place."

So there was someone else involved. Perhaps the rebel they were funding. If so, Doman was no longer the one to make an example of. Mara could be patient if it meant unraveling an entire cell. It was going to be a busy week.

—-

The sharp demand on his attention had quieted, which likely meant his father was distracted. Luke took every shortcut he knew between Visra's house and the shipyard where he was supposed to be at that very moment. By the time he arrived the battle with the rebels was in full swing and his father was crossing lightsabers with two of them. The Master must have been the one that the Grand Inquisitor had failed to keep.

Luke ran along the catwalk, his own lightsaber igniting in his hand as he leapt from it, using the Force to soften the landing in front of the startled Padawan that looked like he was coming to his Master's rescue. The boy - Ezra Bridger, according to Kallus' files - blinked owlishly at him. His jaw dropped as if he were going to ask a question, but Luke didn't give him time. Instead he swung hard, the aggressive move barely giving his new opponent time to bring his own lightsaber up to clumsily parry.

Bridger stumbled back, but found his balance and came at Luke again. He was either brave or foolish. Which one didn't really matter now that Father had found them. It was time for the would-be Jedi to figure that out. Luke sidestepped the blue lightsaber as it cut up to his left, bobbed to avoid another cut, and finally reached his hand out. The humming blade was inches away from his palm and Bridger gawked at him as Luke used the Force to direct the blade to go wide, his free hand flashing outward. Bridger gave a sharp yell as his boots lifted off the ground and he hung there, suspended in the air, and Luke flashed a triumphant grin. He turned back towards his father's battle, wanting to show that albeit a little late, he was pulling his weight in this assignment, but he didn't get the chance.

There was barely a warning of danger before the explosion ripped through the night air, sending Luke heels over head tumbling across the shipyard. He landed hard, the heat from the explosion burning patches of his black robes. His gaze swept outward, finding the Jedi ushering Bridger towards their stolen ship as fast as he could. A cold fear settled deep in the pit of his stomach as Luke's gaze settled on the fallen walkers that were piled exactly where Vader had stood before. "Father!"

Blaster fire pinged off of the permacrete at his feet as he raced towards the debris, the stormtroopers that had been there as backup scattered uselessly as the rebels made their way towards the ship. The walkers shifted and Luke reached out to help give them a pull, his father unfolding from the pocket of protection he had created for himself. The blast bolts shifted and the Sith Lord's lightsaber flashed to life, throwing one bolt back at the Mandelorian girl who had fired.

Luke started to bolt for the escaping shuttle, but his father's black gloved hand clamped down on his shoulder. There were no words, but the command was clear: he wasn't to pursue. Something told Luke that he wouldn't be cleared to leave to help Mara either. Whatever she'd uncovered at the Visra mansion, she was on her own for now. This wasn't the end of his father's plan.

—-

Hera Syndulla felt like she was running on autopilot after their near-fatal escape. They had come to Lothal to risk the rescue of Minister Tua in return for a list of sympathizers to the rebellion. People that were living every day at risk of the Empire deciding they were more trouble alive than dead and eliminating the problem.

Just like they'd eliminated Minister Tua.

"It's not your fault," Ahsoka said softly from the projection as the cockpit doors opened behind Hera, Kanan dropping heavily into the shuttle's copilot chair. "Is everyone on your team okay?"

"A little banged up, but we made it out mostly in one piece."

"Considering we were up against two Sith Lords, we got away easy," Kanan grumbled, rubbing at his shoulder where the masked Sith's blade had caught his shoulder guard.

"Siths?" Ahsoka echoed.

"Yeah, you know the -"

"I know what they are," Ahsoka cut him off, her brow furrowing as she leaned in towards the camera a little, her worry clear in the projection. "But there were two? The Master and the Apprentice?"

"I guess," Kanan answered with a shrug he clearly regretted. He groaned and motioned at a surprisingly quiet Chopper who was there to make sure their communication remained encrypted. "Hey, Chop? You get an image of those two?"

Chopper chirped his affirmative and Hera watched Ashoka's face as Chopper pulled the image of the masked Sith and the blond teen that had come into the fight late.

"We've caught some rumours of him," Ahsoka said and motioned to the masked Sith. "They call him Darth Vader, but he's not the Master. He's the Apprentice. Who's the boy? Do you have a clearer angle?"

"He was fast," Hera murmured, but Chopper had what Ahsoka was looking for. He pulled it up and sharpened the image so they could all see the teen's face.

"He called Vader father," Kanan offered.

When Hera looked back, Ahsoka looked like she'd seen a ghost. "Are you sure?" she managed. "You heard him call Vader father?"

"Yeah. Why?"

The Fulcrum agent blinked hard, resetting herself. "Get to your contact and send coordinates. I'm coming to you."

The transmission cut before they had time to argue.

TBC

Notes: Any Rebels fans reading this story? :D

While I love our Ghost crew and the infamous Agent Kallus to death, I've absurdly excited to get to introduce Ahsoka to the storyline. I became a huge fan of hers and Anakin's relationship after watching The Clone Wars within the last year (yes yes, I know... late to the game) and I knew it was going to have a huge impact on this story once I started writing it. Hopefully it'll give me enough of them to push back the determined plot bunnies I've had nipping at my ankles for a ROTS AU in which Anakin, Ahsoka, and Obi-Wan become the first wave of the rebellion after Order 66... all the stories I don't have time for lol

Next Time: Ahsoka looks for answers while both Vader and Mara's assignments are thrown into chaos when Luke goes missing.

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #Luke Skywalker #Darth Vader #Mara Jade #Ghost crew #Star Wars Rebels #Alexsandr Kallus

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cola-canine · 1 year

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Not Mando just casually dropping Zeb in the episode. Looks great in live action!

Still waiting on a name drop for The Armorer, glad Paz is getting more screen time too.

Not sure what to think about Gideon escaping. Happy to see the Lambda-class shuttles again, though! Top tier Imperial ship.

#mandalorian season 3 spoilers #mandalorian spoilers

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vice-admiral-rampart · 1 year

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Fateful Night

@help-from-above-ct-9904

Rampart's Lambda Class T-4a shuttle touched down on the Capital City of Lothal. He took in his surroundings as he saw a prominent future for this backwater planet. After a few minutes of silence and not having to direct troopers here and there he turned to the highest-ranking soldier. " I want this city swept search house to house standard protocol. Contact me if there is anything unusual." He turned in the direction of the newly built Imperial HQ.

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spockvarietyhour · 3 years

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Deny everything.

#Star Wars #Doctor Aphra #Doctor Aphra 6 #Imperial Shuttle #Lambda Class

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oh-no-eu-didnt · 4 years

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Lambda-class T-4a shuttles were Imperial transports popular during the Galactic Civil War. Equipped with shielding and hyperdrive, Lambda shuttles were well-equipped to defend themselves in combat, boasting multiple laser cannons. They required a crew of up to 6, and could transport up to 20 individuals comfortably.

Source: Star Wars: Chronicles (1997)

First Appearance: Star Wars: Episode VI: Return of the Jedi (1983)

#lambda-class t-4a shuttle #imperial shuttle #galactic empire #galactic civil war #starship #star wars episode vi #return of the jedi #rotj #star wars #expanded universe #star wars canon #star wars legends

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star-wars-comics · 4 years

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Darth Vader #1 (2020)

written by Greg Pak art by Raffaele Ienco & Neeraj Menon

#lambda class t-4a shuttle #imperial shuttle #star wars #comics #comic books

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drawing-unique · 3 years

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Eine Brücke eines Imperialen Sternenzerstörers über Coruscant und darin steht mein Captain und mein Kommodore Oc ^-^ My Captain and my Commodore Oc standing on a Bridge of an imperial star destroyer that flies above the Huge Capital of Coruscant. ^.^

#star wars #captain #commodore #stormtrooper #planet: coruscant #imperial star destroyer bridge #star destroyer #victory 1 class stardestroyer #lambda shuttle #imperial officer #tie interceptor #tie fighter

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kasperl-ruprecht · 4 years

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#Star Wars #Lambda Class Shuttle #Imperial Shuttle #BEST SHUTTLE #fractalsponge

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xecutivecucumber · 3 years

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Rexsoka Week 2021 Day 5: Show Me Your Dark Side

Honestly, I’m considering fleshing this one out into a full fic.

Day 5: Show Me Your Dark Side

Commander Rex stood at the communications station. He was not supposed to be here, but as both Lord Vader's and the First Sister's favored pet, few would challenge him. Rex never thought he'd be grateful for that position, especially now that he was leaking information to the Rebels. But it gave him protection from the clone-hating higher ups, like Tarkin, who would have him killed in a moment.

Rex tried to look business-like as he entered the frequency for whoever received his information. Part of him clung to a hope that it was his brothers that used his knowledge to fight against the Empire. He had been able to wake up from the chip; surely there were others.

"This is King." He muttered into the receiver. "Sending coordinates for Imperial supply rendezvous now."

He entered the data stick that would wipe itself after it transferred the information. He waited, tense as it uploaded the coordinates.

"Coordinates received." A distorted voice crackled through the comm. "Thank you, King."

"May the Force be with you." Rex said before shutting the comm off.

It was easy to erase the logs of his communication. He crushed the datastick under his heel and threw it down the garbage chute. He sent a few sanctioned messages before turning to the doorway.

It was occupied.

The First Sister's sickly yellow eyes narrowed as Rex met her gaze.

"My lady." Rex said calmly, though his heart was in his mouth. "Do you need something?"

"What were you doing?" Her voice was harsh.

"I was sending communications to-"

"Don't lie to me, Commander."

Rex stood straight as she stalked around him.

"Did you think we haven't noticed?" She hissed in his ear. "Your work is sloppy and obvious. You think Lord Vader and I will protect you. You are wrong."

A lightsaber ignited behind him and Rex tried not to flinch.

"Why now?" Rex asked, hit with a surge of boldness. "If you've known this whole time, why only now?"

The First Sister did not immediately run him through.

"It is the Emperor's will." She said softly, sounding more like herself than Rex had heard in months.

Then Rex was correct. She, along with Vader, had tolerated his treachery out of, if not affection, respect for their previous bonds. Rex slowly turned to again meet her gaze.

"Ahsoka-"

"That is not my name!" She hissed.

"You know this is wrong." Rex plowed on. "You've always known."

Silence.

"I thought you were above stalling for your own life, Commander." She said.

"I'm not stalling for mine." Rex said. "I'm trying to save yours."

She once again didn't respond.

"This isn't who you are, Ahsoka." Rex said. This time she didn't protest the use of her old name. "You're like me. We are meant to protect."

"There is no turning back." Ahsoka said. "The person I was is dead. It's- too late for me, Rex."

Rex shook his head. He refused to believe the woman he had loved was gone.

"I don't think it is." Rex said. "And I don't think you're going to kill me."

For a moment, Rex thought he was wrong. Her eyes grew hard and she lifted her sabers.

Rex tried not to shake as he reached past the red blades to touch her face. Immediately she closed her eyes against his touch and her lightsabers lowered. They shut off.

"I can't, Rex." She whispered. "You know what we've- what I've done."

"I can be with you." Rex said. "I'll help you. We can undo the harm we've caused."

Pain crossed Ahsoka's face. Rex could see her slipping back under into the shroud of the First Sister.

“Ahsoka-” Rex pleaded, desperate to keep her here with him.

“So, you have caught the traitor in the act.”

The deep voice of Vader made Rex’s blood freeze. He barely turned his head to see the imposing figure of his general in the doorway.

“Why do you hesitate?” Vader said. “The Emperor has ordered his death.”

Ahsoka’s lightsabers ignited again. Rex closed his eyes and readied himself for her strike.

It did not come.

“He’s been leaking information to the Rebellion.” Ahsoka said. “There is much he could tell us.”

“The Emperor was clear in his instructions.” Vader’s voice was flat. “If you are too weak to do it, then I will.”

He ignited his own lightsaber. Rex flinched as the red blade swung towards him. It was caught by Ahsoka’s sabers. Ahsoka stumbled back, as Vader lifted his blade. She seemed surprised by what she had done.

“You are not only weak, but a traitor as well.” Vader said.

“No, Master, I did not mean-” Ahsoka stammered. “His information is beneficial to us! Master-”

She sounded like the padawan Rex had first met on Christophsis.

“I had deluded myself into believing you would not be a disappointment.” Vader went on. “I should have trusted my instincts.”

Rex did not expect the pain that flashed across Ahsoka’s face. Nor did he expect Vader to raise his hand and hurl Rex backwards into the wall of screens. Rex let out a strangled shout and then darkness fell.

Rex woke with a throbbing headache. His training kicked in and he forced his eyes open regardless. The first thing he saw was the glowing streaks of hyperspace and the dashboard of a ship. He was propped up in the co-pilot's chair of a Lambda-class Imperial shuttle. He knew who would be in the pilot's seat, but he still slowly turned his head.

Ahsoka was silently controlling the craft. What he could see of her face was pale, but her hands were steady. She was turned slightly away from him and he couldn't see her eyes.

"Ahsoka?" Rex asked.

"How do you feel?" There was something in her voice that hadn't been there since before the Empire rose to power.

Rex reached his hand up to feel the back of his head. His fingers met bacta patches.

"Like I've been thrown against a wall of screens." He said.

Ahsoka was silent.

"I'm sorry." She finally said. "I should have realized he would have gone for you.”

“It’s okay.” Rex said. “How- how did we survive?”

He had served under Vader long enough to know that few escaped his wrath.

Ahsoka shrugged.

“I knew there was a storage bay beneath that room. I managed to cut through the floor and grab you. I was able to lose him there. You know he can’t move that quickly.”

Rex nodded slowly.

“Thank you.” He said.

She didn’t reply. For a moment Rex let the silence hold, but eventually he needed to know.

"Where are we going?"

"Away."

"From where?" Rex asked.

"Everything. The Empire, the Rebellion, all of it." Ahsoka said.

Rex sat up straighter. This- wasn't what he expected. He supposed it was foolish to think she would turn back into the idealistic young woman he had known. Too much had happened to them.

"Ahsoka, we don't have to run away." He said. "There's good we could do."

"No." Ahsoka said. "No, the Empire is searching for us. We would do more harm."

"Ahsoka-"

"You're all I have left." Ahsoka said.

She turned to look at him. One of her eyes shone a soft blue at him. The other was still a sharp yellow.

Rex was suddenly glad they were not going to the Rebellion.

"Okay." Rex said. "Okay. We'll lay low."

For a while. He added in his head. They would have to do something about that eye. Rex wasn't very knowledgeable about the Force, but he knew Ahsoka's eyes had changed when she had.

But he was confident that he would be able to turn her to the Rebellion's cause.

She leaned forward to take his hand. She studied it for a moment, before pressing it to her lips. He shivered at the touch.

"I will protect you." She said against his skin. "I won't let them have you."

Rex cupped her cheek with his other hand. He swiped his thumb across the white markings of her cheek. He relished in having her back..

But the back of his mind shuddered at her words. Protect him from what? And at what cost?

Check it out and my ongoing Rexsoka fics on A03!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34125910/chapters/85106296

https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExecutiveCucumber/works

#rexsoka #rexsoka week #rexsoka week 2021 #rexsokaweek #rexsokaweek2021 #captain rex #ahsoka tano #day 5: show me your dark side

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