His body stiffens at the sudden noise amidst the silence, head shooting up to look around rapidly. A cold chill runs down the boy’s man’s spine regardless of the heat radiating from the midday sun. This -- this is the voice that haunts him both in waking and in sleep. Ever since that fateful day on Bespin. He feels it again; his presence. His father’s voice keeps growing louder and louder as time and distance grow between them. Distant as the voice may be through their connection with the Force, it’s enough to make him  fearful  for the days to come.

         Father... it shouldn’t be true, it can’t be true! Yet... it is. Why didn’t Ben or Master Yoda tell him about this? Why keep it a secret? And now, it’s only a matter of time until they have to meet again! In his heart, Luke knows that the only way forward is to confront him. It has to be. Their paths are connected now and their end is  shrouded in darkness. His gaze turns down to the open palm of his cybernetic hand, conflicted by the thoughts and feelings ailing him in this moment.

                    ❝   Father...   ❞  

alia’s first clear thought is that her mother is going to kill her;  then she remembers that she might not even make it back alive.  as she looks upon the masked man,  tall and clothed head-to-toe in black,  she wishes fervently that she’d listened and stayed put.  but she hadn’t listened,  and now she is on an imperial ship instead of evacuating with everyone else.

“  who  -  ”  the words stick in her throat.  speaking is even worse than usual,  and she wishes,  too,  that there were someone to translate for her.  “  who are you?  ”

the twelfth sister bows her head respectfully when she enters,  helmet tipped back to show her face.  they’ve stripped her of her name and identity,  but they’ve let her keep her beskar;  the metal is too valuable to be disposed of,  after all.  even if it’s been reforged to suit an inquisitor’s armor,  it’s still hers,  still mandalorian  —  though she says that to no one,  certainly not to vader;  nor does she ever say that she dislikes her work,  always carrying it out with flawless competence and skill.  her compassion is buried so deep that she cannot feel it at all.

“  you requested my presence,  my lord?  ”