Nitchrin

Also me: look at the word count for this chapter, why on earth are you on 13k words? What’s wrong with you?

Like Vader being angry at Leia after the entire Death Star arc, not because she failed, but because she did it without telling him and almost died. Not like he did similar things so many times as a Padawan and as a knight.

Obi-Wan: Careful, Leia. This is General Grievous. He's an excellent saber fighter.

Leia: I see.

Grievous: laughs Jedi. I will add your lightsabers to my collection. four arms unfold, each igniting a stolen blade

Leia: Is he a droid?

Obi-Wan: He's not. But there's no reason to underestimate him. He's killed many Jedi.

Leia: Force-sensitive, then?

Obi-Wan: Well, no, but still—

Leia: I see. looks at Grievous, then clenches her fist

The sound is horrific—shrieking metal and cracking bone crushed together. Grievous collapses into a twisted lump of flesh and durasteel. Four lightsabers clatter to the ground.

Leia: unclenches her hand

Obi-Wan: stares

Obi-Wan: W-What? How did you—why didn't—

Leia: Didn't Anakin ever crumple metal when he lost control? When he got angry?

Obi-Wan: Well, yes, but—

Leia: You really should have thought of this one before.

Obi-Wan: looks at the remains of the most feared Jedi killer in the galaxy

Since I get a lot of comments in both my fics and here asking about how the main fic and The Daughter's Return connect, here's a clear explanation. Mild spoilers ahead (you can wait for the next episode of The Daughter's Return for this, but if you want to read it now, here it is).

The Daughter's Return is not canon to the main fic. It branches off into its own AU. It's a "what if Luke made a different choice" situation.

In the canon timeline of the main fic, by the time Leia reaches twenty-five she is happy. She has Han, she has Luke, the Empire is slowly moving into better shape, and she finally sees a future that isn't defined by the dark side or by survival. It's the beginning of something almost peaceful. She's even started to take her first steps toward the light without even knowing it—sometimes the pressure and darkness just stop. Love and family are healing her.

Luke, during this time, learns more about what she went through and is heartbroken. As Leia (and Anakin as a ghost) reveal more about her past, he's devastated that she had to endure all of that. When Ahsoka tells him about time travel, he does think about trying to save young Leia before she's ever captured. But in the canon timeline he never attempts it. He decides against it, and life continues forward.

The Daughter's Return is the timeline where he actually goes through with it. The ritual goes wrong, the moment collapses around him, and Leia tries to save his life. She's caught in the explosion and thrown into the past. She arrives in the Clone Wars, alone and believing she failed to save Luke. She vows to save the Jedi for him, for his sacrifice trying to save her.

You might be asking: "Hey Nitchrin, you just said this Leia was closer to the light than she is in the current canon timeline, but she's so much meaner in The Daughter's Return—more confident and ruthless as a Sith Lord. That doesn't add up."

And you're right. Leia was closer to the light. But then it was all taken away. Her family, her throne, everything she worked for. And when she decides to save the Jedi, to save Anakin from becoming Vader, she does it fully expecting it will kill her. This Leia doesn't care who she hurts or how much pain she inflicts. She's been hurt again and again by the galaxy, and finally, when she has everything, when she's happy, it's taken away.

Most people think things went so wrong for her that she had to go to the past. After all, why would she go on what's basically a suicide mission? But she didn't. That's the tragedy. She had just reached a point where her life was beginning to heal. She finally had Han. She finally had Luke. She had plans for Serra and the others who wanted to learn from her. She had hope for the first time. And then it vanishes in an instant.

She doesn't choose to go back. She doesn't want to save the Jedi or fix the timeline. She was happy—or as close to happy as she'd ever been—and it all gets ripped away from her.

Also imagine her cutting her hair to be like ROTS Anakin

Chapter 1: The Last Lesson

Leia stared at the Force ghost in her refresher.

Anakin Skywalker stood there. Not Vader. Not the broken man in the suit. The Jedi Knight. Young, whole, wearing simple robes with his arms crossed. Blue eyes steady on hers.

The father she'd prayed to as a child.

The Master who'd cut off her arm.

She didn't move. Didn't speak. Just looked at him.

"Empress," Anakin said.

Not Leia. Not Revaris. Empress.

Something about that word—the way he said it, flat and factual—made her anger spike.

"Get out."

"No."

"I killed you." Her voice was controlled. Dangerous. "Hours ago. You died. You don't get to come back."

"I'm dead," Anakin agreed. "Doesn't mean I'm gone."

"I don't want you here."

"I know." He didn't move. Didn't look apologetic or gentle, nor did he seem like he was going to back down. "I'm here anyway."

Leia's remaining hand clenched. "Why?"

"Because you're still in the Dark Side. And I'm the one who put you there." Anakin's voice was matter-of-fact. "That makes you my responsibility."

"I'm not your responsibility. I'm not your anything."

"You're my apprentice."

The word hung in the air between them.

"You dare?" Leia said. Her voice was barely steady, and the lights in the room started to flicker, answering her rage. "I killed you. That means I'm not your apprentice anymore. That's how this works. That's what you taught me."

"I taught you a lot of things." Anakin's expression didn't change. "Most of them were wrong."

"Then why are you here?" She took a step toward him. "To apologize? To ask for forgiveness? To finally be the father I prayed to all those years ago?"

"I'm not here as your father."

"Good. Because you never were one."

"You're right," he said. "I wasn't. I failed you before you were even born. I let fear control me. I fell to the Dark Side. I helped destroy the Jedi, helped Palpatine build an Empire on suffering. And when you needed a father—when you were nine years old and alone and terrified—I tortured you instead."

"Is this the part where you apologize? Where you ask for forgiveness?"

"I'm not asking for forgiveness. What I did cannot be forgiven." Anakin's voice was quiet. "I know what I did to you. I know what I made you into. There's no apology that could touch that. No words that could make it better."

"I don't care about your regrets or your guilt or whatever crisis of conscience you're having now that you're dead. You made me into this. You spent fourteen years making sure I'd be exactly what I am. So if you don't like what you see—"

"I'm not here because I feel guilty."

That stopped her.

"I'm here to finish your training," Anakin said.

Leia stared at him. "What?"

"You heard me." He uncrossed his arms. "I trained you for fourteen years. Made you strong. Made you dangerous. Made you into a weapon sharp enough to kill Palpatine. But I left the job half-finished."

"Half-finished." Her voice was flat with disbelief.

"You're powerful. You're smart. You're everything I made you to be." Anakin's eyes were steady on hers. "But you're still trapped. Still using the Dark Side because you think it's the only option. Still walking the same path I walked. And that path ends one way."

"I don't need another lecture about—"

"I'm not lecturing you." His voice was sharp. "I'm telling you that you're going to destroy yourself. Not because you're weak. Not because you made the wrong choices. But because the Dark Side consumes everything it touches. I know. I walked that path for twenty years. Lost everything. Became everything I hated. And now I'm watching you do the same thing."

"I'm not you."

"No. You're smarter. More careful. You learned from my mistakes." Anakin's expression was hard. "But you're still in the Dark. Still letting it shape every choice you make. Still thinking that power is the same as strength. And eventually it'll take everything from you the way it took everything from me."

Leia's jaw tightened. "Then what do you want? You want me to give up the throne? Give up my power? Become a Jedi?" She laughed, cold and sharp. "The Light Side is closed to me. You made sure of that."

"The Light Side isn't closed to anyone."

"You filled me with so much anger, so much pain—"

"And you think that means you can't come back?" Anakin cut her off. "I fell further than you did. I murdered children. Helped destroy the Jedi. Spent twenty years serving the man who betrayed everything I cared about. And I still came back in the end."

"Good for you. You want a medal?"

"I want you to understand that you're not trapped." His voice was firm. "You think you have no choice. Think you have to stay in the Dark because that's all you know. But that's a lie. You're choosing it. Every day. Every moment. And you can choose something different."

"I don't want to choose something different."

"Then you're a coward."

The word hit like a slap.

Leia went very still. When she spoke, her voice was soft—deadly. "What did you just say to me?"

"You heard me. A coward. And I did not raise you to be one." Anakin didn't back down. His tone was calm, steady, infuriating. "You're afraid. Afraid that if you let go of the Dark Side, you'll lose your power. Lose your strength. Lose everything that makes you dangerous. So you cling to it. Tell yourself you have no choice. But really, you're just afraid to try something harder."

"Raised me? Raised me?!" Leia's voice cracked into a snarl, and the air itself seemed to shudder. "You broke me!"

The lights flickered, then shattered one by one, glass raining down as the fixtures burst under the weight of her rage.

"You spent fourteen years making sure I was too terrified to be anything except what you wanted me to be!"

"Yes," Anakin said quietly. "I did."

He didn't look away. Didn't flinch. "And now I'm telling you that you survived it. You survived me. You survived Palpatine. You survived everything we put you through. So stop acting like you're still that nine-year-old girl I locked in a room on Nur."

His gaze met hers—steady, piercing, unrelenting.

"You're Empress of the galaxy. You have more power than almost anyone who's ever lived. And you're still letting fear control you."

"I'm not afraid—"

"You're terrified," Anakin interrupted. "Terrified that if you're not angry enough, not dark enough, not ruthless enough, someone will hurt you again. So you hold onto the Dark Side like it's a shield. But it's not protecting you. It's killing you. Slowly. The same way it killed me."

Leia's hand was shaking. "You don't get to do this. You don't get to stand there in your Jedi robes and tell me I'm afraid. You don't get to challenge me or push me or act like you're still my Master. You lost that right years ago."

"I never had that right," Anakin said. "But I'm here anyway. Because I made you into this. Because I filled you with darkness and pain and told you it was strength. And now I'm going to help you find your way out."

"I don't want your help."

"I don't care." His voice was flat. "I'm not leaving. I'll be here every time you use the Dark Side. Every time you make a choice. Every time you think you're alone in this. Not to judge you. Not to tell you what to do. But to remind you that you have options. That you're not trapped the way I believed I was."

"I am trapped. You made sure of that." Leia's voice rose. "You spent fourteen years breaking me. Fourteen years making sure the Dark Side was the only option. You want to know what I was thinking about before you showed up? Whether I should train an apprentice. Whether I should continue the Sith tradition. And you know what I decided?"

Anakin waited.

"I'm not going to do it. I'm not going to put another person through what you put me through. I'm going to be the last Sith—not because I'm noble, not because I've seen the error of my ways, but because you made the training so brutal that I can't inflict it on anyone else. That's your legacy. Congratulations."

"Good," Anakin said.

That stopped her. "What?"

"I'm glad you won't train an apprentice. Glad you'll let the Sith die. That's the right choice."

"That's it? The right choice? You're the one who wanted to make a Sith empire! To make the Sith Order rule the galaxy!"

"I was wrong. Which at this point should be obvious."

"I am not you! I know what I'm doing! This is not fear, this is strength!"

"Then prove me wrong." Anakin's eyes were steady on hers. "You're Empress. You have the power to change things. Really change them. You can be everything I was too weak to be. But only if you don't let the Dark Side consume you first."

Leia looked at him. This ghost. This Master. This man who'd destroyed her and now wanted to save her.

"Why Empress?" she asked. Her voice was quiet now. Controlled. "Why not Leia? Why not Revaris?"

Anakin met her eyes. "I killed Leia. That girl died on Mustafar. I have no right to her name."

"And Revaris?"

"I won't call you by a Sith name. I won't acknowledge what I made you." His expression was hard. "But I'll acknowledge what you've become. What you are now. Empress."

Something in Leia's chest twisted.

"I hate you," she said.

"I know."

"I will never forgive you."

"I don't want your forgiveness." Anakin's voice was steady. "I want you to survive. I want you to be better than I was. And I'm going to stay here until you understand that you can be."

Leia turned away from him. Looked at her reflection in the mirror. Young Empress. One-armed. Hollow.

"Why did you do it to me?" Her voice cracked. "What made you look at your nine-year-old daughter and decide that this fate was the one for me?"

"Because I was trapped in it. Darth Vader. I was convinced the Dark Side was the only path to strength." Anakin's expression was pained. "I told myself I was preparing you. Making you strong enough to survive. But really, I was just repeating the cycle—doing to you what Palpatine did to me. Breaking you down and rebuilding you as a weapon."

"And if I had died? Then it's better your daughter is dead? Because she is weak? Did you truly look at me and said it's better for me to die than be weak?"

"Your life was never in danger. Not once during your training."

Leia went very still. "What?"

"The threats. The punishments. All of it—I made sure you were never actually going to die. The pain was real. The fear was real. But death?" Anakin shook his head. "I would never have followed through. Even on Mustafar, when you were ten and I told you I'd kill you if you failed—I wouldn't have. Couldn't have."

"You cut off my arm."

"Yes. But I wasn't going to let you die from it. The medical droids were standing by the entire time." Anakin's voice was steady. "Even your early solo missions—I monitored everything. Made sure the situations were dangerous enough to push you, but not enough to actually get you killed. I was always watching. Always ready to interfere if things went truly wrong."

"That's supposed to make it better?"

A funny scene I wanted to write:

Obviously, this isn’t canon, and it’s not the actual scene; this was just something I started writing that made me laugh:

“They have a plan,” Luke said, hopeful in that painfully earnest way of his. “For the second Death Star. The Rebellion thinks it’s still under construction. If they take down the shield generator on Endor, they can destroy the station before it’s finished.”

Leia stopped and stared at him. “It’s a trap.”

He blinked. “What?”

“It’s a trap,” she repeated, slower this time, like she was trying to guide a small child away from a wall socket. “The Death Star is fully operational. The intelligence they ‘found’ was planted. Palpatine knows. He’s waiting for you.”

Luke frowned, genuinely confused. “How do you know that?”

Leia just stared at him. It was almost impressive how much disbelief could fit into one expression. “Luke, I know you are... A Jedi, but I'm literally a Sith Lord, Palpatine, and Vader apprentice.”

“Oh.” Luke looked like someone had just informed him that water is, in fact, wet.

“Yes. Oh.” Leia pinched the bridge of her nose. “This is the fourth Sith trap in three years. Four. And every time, you have walked directly into it like it’s a friendly picnic invitation. You are—at this point—suicidal.”

Luke squared his shoulders, earnest and stubborn all at once. “We still have to try. They’re my friends. The galaxy depends on this. I can’t just stay here and do nothing.”

Leia stared at him for a long moment. Then: “You’re grounded.”

Luke blinked. “I’m—what?”

“You heard me,” she repeated. “Grounded.”

“You can’t ground me,” Luke said, scandalized. “I’m a Jedi Knight.”

“I am your older twin,” Leia replied. Calm. Certain. Inevitable. “I can do whatever I want.”

Luke opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. “You don’t even know you’re the older one. No one told us who was born first.”

The Naboo cruiser touched down in the Temple's main hangar with barely a whisper of repulsorlifts. Anakin stood at the edge of the landing platform, hands shoved in his pockets to keep them from shaking.

"She's going to have questions," he said.

"Yes," Obi-Wan agreed, standing beside him. "Many questions."

The ramp extended. Padmé appeared at the top, still in her senatorial robes, her pregnancy completely hidden beneath the flowing fabric. Her eyes found Anakin immediately, and relief crossed her face.

Anakin was already moving. He met her at the bottom of the ramp and pulled her into his arms, holding her tight enough that she made a soft sound of surprise.

"Anakin—"

He kissed her. Hard and desperate, like he needed proof she was real.

When they finally broke apart, Padmé cupped his face in her hands. "What's wrong? Your message scared me half to death."

"I'm sorry." Anakin kept his arms around her. "I'm so sorry. I just—I needed you here."

"Well, I'm here." She pulled back enough to study his face properly. "Now tell me what's going on. You look terrible."

"He hasn't slept in days," Obi-Wan said, approaching. "Padmé."

"Obi-Wan." Padmé's expression sharpened as she looked between them. "What happened? And don't tell me 'nothing'—I know Anakin, and I know when something's wrong."

"We need to talk," Anakin said. "Somewhere private."

"How private?"

"Very private," Obi-Wan said. "Away from the hangar. Away from anyone who might overhear."

Padmé's hand moved protectively to her stomach. "You're really scaring me now."

"I know." Anakin took her hand. "Come with us. We'll explain everything. I promise."

They walked through the Temple corridors in tense silence. Padmé kept glancing at Anakin, as if trying to read the storm in his expression. Obi-Wan led them through the quieter passageways, steering clear of the main halls where curious eyes might linger.

Anakin’s hand found hers, his grip almost trembling. When she faltered, he drew her closer, his arm brushing against her back in a half-embrace, as though letting go might mean losing her entirely. He looked like a man desperate for air after nearly drowning, clinging to the one thing keeping him afloat.

Obi-Wan saw it then, truly saw it, and a hollow ache settled in his chest. He had known Anakin loved her, had suspected it for years, but this was not love. This was devotion, fierce and consuming. And somehow, he had missed just how deep it ran until now.

And Padmé's presence in the Force. He'd never paid much attention before. Padmé's presence was minimal, like most non-sensitives. But now, reaching out carefully, he felt something else.

The baby. Leia.

The Force presence was unmistakable. Bright and strong, radiating from Padmé's center like a contained star. This wasn't the faint flicker he'd sensed from other Force-sensitive infants. This was power. Raw and vast, even in this unformed state.

This was Anakin's daughter.

The Chosen One's child.

And knowing what that baby would endure, what she would become because of it, made Obi-Wan's chest tighten. That this bright presence, this innocent potential, would one day be twisted into something dark and cold seemed impossible to comprehend. How could such warmth be turned into the coldness he felt from her older self? How could Vader, how could anyone, feel this warmth, and want to destroy it?

They reached Obi-Wan's and Anakin's quarters, "Alright." Padmé turned to face them both, arms crossed. "Start talking."

Anakin and Obi-Wan exchanged a look.

"A few days ago," Obi-Wan began, "a woman walked into the Temple and surrendered herself. A Sith Lord."

Padmé's eyes widened. "A Sith? In the Temple?"

"She came willingly," Anakin said. "Unarmed. She wanted to talk to us. To warn us."

"Warn you about what?"

"About the future," Obi-Wan said. "She claims to be from twenty-five years from now. And she's here to stop something catastrophic from happening."

Padmé looked between them. "Time travel? That's—"

"Real," Anakin interrupted. "We've seen her memories through the Force. It's not a trick, Padmé. She's really from the future."

"And what does this have to do with me?" Padmé asked slowly. "Why did you need me here so urgently?"

Anakin's jaw tightened. "Because— Because she's our daughter. The baby you're carrying."

Padmé went very still. Her hand moved to her stomach, protective and instinctive. "What?"

"Her name is Leia," Anakin said quietly. "She's twenty-five years old. And she's here because in her timeline, everything goes wrong."

"How wrong?"

"Palpatine is Darth Sidious," Obi-Wan said. "The Sith Lord we've been searching for. He orchestrated the war, created the clone army, manipulated the Senate into giving him emergency powers—all to destroy the Jedi and turn the Republic into an Empire."

Padmé sank onto the couch. "Palpatine? That's—he's been my friend, my mentor, since I was fourteen. He's from Naboo. He—"

"He's been playing us all," Anakin said. "In Leia's timeline, he succeeds. He issues something called Order 66—a command that turns the clones against the Jedi. Across the galaxy, all at once. Most of the Order is wiped out."

"The clones turn on you?"

"On all of us," Obi-Wan confirmed. "And it happens fast. Too fast to stop."

"And what about you two?" Padmé looked at Anakin. "What happens to you?"

Anakin couldn't meet her eyes. "I die. Before she si born."

"You—" Padmé's voice broke. "How?"

"There's a Sith Lord named Darth Vader," Obi-Wan said. "Palpatine's new apprentice. In Leia's timeline, he kills Anakin."

"And me?" Padmé whispered.

"You die in childbirth," Anakin said. "Broken heart, according to what Leia was told us."

Padmé's hand pressed harder against her stomach. "So in this future, we both die and leave our baby alone?"

"Not alone," Obi-Wan said. "She's taken in by Bail Organa. He raises her on Alderaan as his daughter. Keeps her safe and hidden from the Empire."

"Until?"

The silence stretched too long.

"Until she's nine years old," Anakin said, his voice rough. "That's when Vader finds her. Discovers she's Force-sensitive. And our daughter."

"And then what?" Padmé demanded. "What does he do?"

"He takes her," Anakin said. "Takes her from Bail, from Alderaan, from everything she's ever known. And he trains her as his apprentice. Forces her to become a Sith Lord."

Padmé's face had gone white. "Our daughter becomes a Sith?"

"She didn't have a choice," Anakin said. "Vader—we've seen what he did to her, Padmé. The training. The torture. The missions. He broke her down and rebuilt her into what he wanted."

"She's been through things no one should survive," Obi-Wan said. "And she came back here to warn us. To give us a chance to stop it from happening."

"I want to meet her," Padmé said immediately.

"Padmé—"

"I want to meet her," Padmé repeated, standing. "Our daughter. If she's really here, if she really came back to warn us, I need to see her."

"She's not easy to be around," Anakin warned. "She's angry. Cold. She's a Sith Lord, Padmé. Trained by one of the most dangerous beings in the galaxy."

"She's our child," Padmé said firmly. "Twenty-five years from now, maybe, but she's still ours. And if we're going to stop this future from happening, I need to meet her. I need to understand what we're fighting to prevent."

"She's going to say things," Obi-Wan warned. "Difficult things. About what was done to her. About what she became because of it."

"Then I'll listen," Padmé said. "But I'm not going to hide from the truth. No matter how painful it is."

Anakin looked at her—his wife, fierce and determined despite the fear in her eyes. "Alright. But Padmé, she's not like anyone you've met before."

Leia turned to face her fully. "The Jedi fell because they stopped listening."

"Listening to what?"

"To the Force itself." Leia's voice took on a different quality, not lecturing exactly, but something close to it. "They act like they're servants of the Force, but they're not. They're trying to control it. Bend it to their will. Make it conform to their rules and traditions and philosophies." She paused. "That only works if you're a Sith."

Padmé frowned. "I don't understand."

"The Jedi teach that you should follow the Force, trust it, let it guide you," Leia said. "But then they turn around and tell you exactly how you're allowed to feel, what you're allowed to want, who you're allowed to love. They're not listening to the Force—they're forcing their will onto it. Do you see the difference?"

"You're saying the Jedi are hypocrites."

"I'm saying they're wrong," Leia corrected. "About fundamental things. And the Force—if it's truly sentient, truly aware—it knows they're wrong."

"How do you know the Force is sentient?" Padmé asked.

"Because it created Anakin."

Padmé blinked. "What?"

"You know he's half-Force, right? Born of the Force itself, conceived without a father?" Leia's eyes were intent now. "If the Force is sentient enough to create life—to create a person—then it's sentient enough to make choices. To have intentions."

"I suppose that's true," Padmé said slowly.

"So if the Force wanted to create the Chosen One, the one who would bring balance and save the galaxy, it could have created him anywhere." Leia leaned forward. "Core worlds. Coruscant itself. Alderaan. Naboo. Places where he'd be found immediately by the Jedi. Where he'd be raised in the Temple from infancy, perfectly trained in all their traditions." She seems to think for a moment, “Well, not Naboo, no offence, but it would have made a terrible location, with the Sith living there and all, but there are other places.”

"But he wasn't," Padmé said, beginning to understand.

"He was born on Tatooine," Leia said. "Outer Rim. No Republic oversight. No Jedi presence. A slave planet where he'd grow up knowing nothing but chains and suffering and attachment to his mother. The one thing the Jedi forbid above all else—he was literally born into it."

Padmé felt something cold in her stomach. "You're saying the Force did that deliberately."

"What else could it be?" Leia asked. "Either the Force isn't actually sentient—it's just blind chance and coincidence, which means there's no Chosen One prophecy, no grand plan, nothing. Or the Force is sentient, made a choice, and chose to create Anakin on Tatooine specifically."

"Why would it do that?"

"Two options," Leia said. "One: the Force never wanted Anakin to be found by the Jedi at all. It wanted him to grow up outside their Order, outside their rules. To learn love and attachment and all the things they forbid. To become someone who could save the galaxy in a different way—not as a Jedi, but as something else. It means the Force is not all knowing, as Anakin was found eventually, it might also mean that the Jedi weren’t listening, because if they had, he would have never been found."

"And the second option?"

"The Force knew about the Sith plot," Leia said. "It knew Palpatine was manipulating events. It knew the Trade Federation would blockade Naboo, that you would flee, that you'd crash on Tatooine, and that Qui-Gon Jinn would find a nine-year-old slave boy and bring him to the Order." She paused. "The Force knew Anakin would be found, but found late. After he'd learned to love. After he'd formed attachments. After he was already everything the Jedi teach against."

Padmé's breath caught. "You're saying the Force gave them a test."

"Yes," Leia corrected. "The Force gave the Jedi a Chosen One who contradicted everything they believed. A boy who loved deeply, who formed attachments, who felt everything they taught him to suppress. And the Force waited to see what they would do."

"Would they adapt or would they try to force him into their mold," Padmé said slowly.

"Exactly." Leia's voice was cold now. "And they chose wrong. They took a traumatized nine-year-old slave and told him to let go of his mother. They took a teenager in love and told him it was forbidden. They took a young man drowning in fear and told him to meditate. They didn't adapt. They didn't change. They just kept insisting that their way was the only way."

"So he fell," Padmé whispered.

"So he fell," Leia agreed. "And if the Force is truly sentient, if it really knew all of this would happen, then it knew Anakin would fall. It knew that if the Jedi failed their test, failed to change, then Anakin would fall. Then the Chosen One would still bring balance. Just not the way they expected."

"By destroying them."

"By wiping them from existence," Leia said. "So the next generation could start over. Could learn from their mistakes. Could build something better."

The gardens felt very quiet suddenly.

"That's a terrifying thought," Padmé said.

"It's the logical conclusion," Leia said. "If you believe the Force is sentient. If you believe Anakin was created with intention. If you believe in the prophecy at all." She looked at Padmé. "Either the Jedi are working against the Force's will, against the prophecy, or the prophecy was about the Force deciding to eradicate the order from existence. Either way, it says something about how much confidence the Force has in the Jedi Order."

"You really think the Jedi are that lost?"

"I think they've forgotten how to listen," Leia said. "They're so certain they're right, so sure their traditions are correct, that they can't hear when the Force is trying to tell them something different. They've become exactly what they claim to fight against—rigid, dogmatic, forcing their will instead of flowing with the Force."

Padmé was quiet, processing. "Is that what Vader taught you? This philosophy?"

"No," Leia said. "Vader taught me to hate the Jedi for failing him. This—" She gestured vaguely. "This is what I figured out with L— With one of the future Jedi. We were trying to understand how it all went so wrong. How an entire Order could fall. How the Force could let it happen." She paused. "The only answer that makes sense is that the Force didn't just let it happen. It made it happen. Because they weren't listening."

"Then what should they do?" Padmé asked. "What does listening to the Force actually look like?"

Vader's inner monologue as he watches Leia order the orbital bombardment of a Rebel outpost without even standing up from her chair: I trained her in lightsaber combat. I taught her to harness her rage. And most importantly, I showed her the art of a dramatic entrance.

And what does she do? She bombards them. From orbit. She didn’t even go down there. Didn’t ignite her saber. Didn’t deliver a monologue about betrayal and the futility of resistance.

Just… signed the order, and moved on to her next briefing.

And her cape, her cape didn’t even move. No wind. No ominous flutter. Just… limp. I spent 40 credits a meter for that custom Sith-weave, and she wears it like a bathrobe.

Did I not raise her right? Did I fail as a Sith Master?

She kills people like she’s doing paperwork. I raised a Sith accountant.