Every Harlot, part 4 Warnings and Disclaimers in part 1 ***** The small woman stared daggers at her stormtrooper escort. The slight man in black was a half span shorter than the armored troops around her, and she focused her hatred on him. "Darth Vengar. I should have known. Only you could be so bold. The Imperial Senate--" Her voice stopped like a comlink cut off in mid sentence. "Is no longer your concern, Your Highness." He watched with mild amusement as she struggled for words that would not come. "You are a leader of the Rebel Alliance and a traitor. Your voice will return when you decide to tell me what you have done with the stolen plans." The puzzled innocence on her face reminded Luke of his own well-practiced smiles. He turned to an aide, "Take her to my ship and make her comfortable. The Emperor has business with her. Double guards." The Princess' look could melt transparasteel as the stormtroopers escorted her out. A prickle in the Force alerted him, and he stepped into a deserted cabin. He dropped to one knee and bowed his head, opening himself to the contact. "What is thy bidding, my father?" he asked both aloud and through the Force. //You will refrain from using your abilities on the Princess.// "Yes, Father." //Do you have the data tapes?// "Not yet, Father. They are not on the ship, but we are searching along the last trajectories of the jettisoned escape pods." //They must not fall into the wrong hands. Not those of the Rebels, nor those of Kenobi. Also, the time has come for you to put away your companion.// "Father?" //He has entertained you, but you agreed to put him aside for a woman and sire an heir when the time was ripe. The Princess will do nicely. She is a Force-sensitive. Awaken her to this and guide her to join us here in the Darkness.// "But, Father, how can we? There are only two Sith at once, Master and Apprentice." //Jedi lies. She is not a warrior.// "As you command, my Father. She will join us or die." //Do well, my son.// The contact severed, Luke stood and left the cabin. "Destroy the ship. Inform her father and the Senate all aboard were killed." "Yes, my Lord." "And find those data tapes!" He strode back to the bridge of his ship, pondering the evening to come. Leia Organa was surprised to find herself in a luxurious cabin rather than the brig. But a prison was a prison, regardless of how well-appointed. It worried her that her jailor was treating her so well. The message light on the table terminal flashed. Curious, she retrieved the message. Lord Vengar's youthful face smiled at her in an obvious attempt to be charming. "Your Highness. It would be my pleasure for you to join me tonight for dinner. Your autovalet will provide you with any clothing or small items you need. Please avail yourself of all the conviences. You are the guest of the Emperor." Leia snorted her amusement. It would do her good to get cleaned up. She fed her dress, belt and boots into the autovalet, with instructions to clean them. She stepped into the sonic shower, and let the vibrations remove the outer layer of dead cells from her body, and the layer of grime from her hair. She dressed and began to work on her hair. Two could play at the charm game, and Leia was willing to bet she had more experience than the young Imperial. She was a politician and a diplomat, born in the royal palace of Alderaan. This young man had burst onto the scene less than a year ago, spomsored by both the Emperor and Lord Vader. There were rumors he was a relative of one of them. There were other, darker rumors, heard from a few senators in or near the Tzalna system. On second thought, she changed out of her simple white senatorial gown and programmed the autovalet for something a bit more daring. Still pristine white, she lowered the neckline to just the top of her cleavage. Every advantage in a skirmish, which was what dinner was, regardless of the polite words of the invite. The skirt was narrower, and she slit it up to midthigh. The machinery hummed quietly to itself for a moment and then distributed the dress. The guards knocked at her door, a pleasant surprise, and she scowled at them. They took her to a small conference room which had been converted for the dinner. She was the last to arrive. The two men stood up as she entered, and the older lady in the chromosilk nodded politely. One of her escort pulled out a chair for her, before he and the other stormtroopers were dismissed. "So I'm not to be cuffed to the chair?" she asked, taking in the reactions carefully. The other woman shot an accusing glance at Darth Vengar. Nor did the senator miss the slight tightening of the older man's jaw. Lord Vengar, however, just laughed. She decided she didn't want to hear that sound again. "No, no, of course not. Aunt Beru, don't look at me like that. You taught me better manners. Dear Princess, you're our guest." He stepped to her side to bow over her hand. His lips were dry, cool and somehow repulsive yet electrifying on her skin. "We're all family here tonight. Please, call me Luke. And I shall call you Leia." Mindful that she was attempting to outcharm him, she flashed him a dazzling smile, and then turned it on the older man next to him as well. He met her eyes briefly and then looked away. "Of course. And I would say you've forgotten any manners your lovely aunt tried to teach you, since you haven't introduced me to our companions." She kept her tone light enough to avoid making it a true accusation. "My aunt, Beru Lars. My personal aide, Han Solo, who has indeed forgotten his manners." The tall man came to her side and bowed over her hand as Luke had. She didn't miss the extra sharpness in Luke's voice, or the implicit threat in the glare he shot his aide. "I'm honored to meet you, Your Highness." His voice was low, soft and rich, but the brown eyes that met hers held only anxiety. She smiled charmingly at her companions as they returned to their seats. "So, Luke," she made a conscious effort to use his name, "what prompted you to return my voice?" "I must ask your pardon for my lapse of temper earlier, sweet Leia. I was not at my best," he said smoothly. "I allowed familiarity, my lord. You are over-familiar." The chill of her smile matched his. "Your pardon, Princess." "Two apologies in the space of two minutes," Beru marvelled. "Leia, child, can we keep you?" Even Han half-smiled at that idea. Leia smiled at the older woman. "I fear I am expected elsewhere. My father requires my presence next week for the planting festivals. And of course, the Senate is back in session shortly after that." She tried to make the unspoken "And if I'm not there, the Empire will be blamed" clear. "Ah." Luke's comment was neutral. Dinner wore on, a tapestry of bland comments with spiced centers, and thinly hidden threats. Luke was discovering that the beautiful woman had both brain and spirit, and was enjoying himself with her immensely. Perhaps his father was right and she would be a suitable consort for him. Beru enjoyed watching him work. He was so clever, and she was never sorry she had defied both Owen and Ben in the matter of his education. Han sat quietly, eating little. He felt guilty for even hoping that this princess might take his place. If she would do it willingly, he'd be free again. That notion intoxicated him more than the wine, but he dared not let it show. Leia worked hard to keep herself focused let she make a conversational misstep that would give the match to this dark angel sitting across from her. At length, Luke rose and offered his hand to the princess. "May we escort you back to your quarters, my dear?" His aide pulled the chair out from the table, and she stood, leaning just lightly on the Sith. "You may." "Good night, dear aunt," he bent to kiss her cheek before he left. "A pleasure meeting you, Gentlelady Lars," Leia added. She noted the older man merely sketched a small bow to her, as he followed them out, remaining two paces behind them at all times. Luke said nothing during the walk, taking a different and seemingly much longer route than the stormtroopers had. She almost spoke when his thumb brushed across the knuckles of her hand that was tucked in his. They made a handsome couple, Han thought walking behind them. Luke was on his very best court manners, and Leia wore hers as well. A Prince and a Princess, and so very right walking together, her arm laid atop his, her hand held formally in his. The wild hope he had squelched so firmly during dinner was back. Most of him was thrilled. He hoped Leia would stay, of her own accord. Then, he remembered two nights before, and shuddered. There was no way the princess would want to endure that. But, maybe, she could be the one to banish this Sith mask forever, and bring his Luke to the fore. The cold look in the blue eyes that met his over the black clad shoulder told him he was a fool for such dreams. At the door of the princess' quarters, Luke stopped, and lifted Leia's hand to his lips again, his eyes never leaving hers. He lingered over it, his breath teasing the small hairs of her wrist, the warmth of his lips searing the skin. Then he remembered his aide. "Han, return to your quarters." "Yes, my lord," he responded neutrally. "Good night, Your Highness." He bowed to the Princess. As he rounded the corner, Luke looked searchingly at the young woman before him. "Sweet Leia," he began. Having been down this road with any number of men, Leia knew what was coming next. She stretched up, kissed his cheek lightly and said, "Thank you for a lovely dinner," in the most insincere tone she could manage. All part of the moves in the bigger game. She slipped through the door, and let it shut in his face. She didn't expect him to trip off in a cloud, but anything to throw him off his guard would be good. Now for another shower. Too much contact with Imperial officers left her feeling as if she had been dipped in slime. She wondered about that aide, though. He wore no rank, and his demeanor was not that of a man happy in his position. It looked more like a man terrified of his superior. Leia stood under the sonics. The two men played on her mind. The slim, fair sith lord, the evil an almost palpable electricity coming from him, and the tall, dark aide, who said nothing but saw everything with sad hazel eyes. She sensed nothing from him, good or evil, and wondered if he really was an officer. "You were so quiet during dinner. What was on your mind?" The question was laced with a cold menace that informed Han he would indeed be paying heavily for this morning. "The Princess. What will you do with her?" Luke sighed, time to tell what his father had ordered. "She's to take your place. Emperor's orders. After I produce an heir, I can have you back." "What if you don't want me back? What if she's more to your liking?" Freedom was so close Han could almost taste it. The stern glance told him that was very unlikely. "You are mine. What is mine, I don't give up. Not for my father, not for anyone. Besides, I am not to hurt her." Han's blood ran cold at that statement and the implications. He'd never been subtle, but weeks of close association had given him insight. He tried to shift in his chair, but found himself pinned. Forcebonds again. It would be a very long night indeed. Luke's hands held most of his weight on the older man's wrists. Steel eyes loomed over him, glaring into his soul, and dismissing it with contempt. "I wanted her tonight. She brushed my cheek and shut the door in my face. How loud can you scream, my Corellian whore? Can you buy her safety?" The invisible bonds that held him to the chair began to tighten. "Whore? I wasn't the one with credits on the nightstand." The bonds held him even tighter at this bit of defiance. "I see you've found your tongue. Splendid. I'm afraid your life is going to be very miserable until I've won the Princess. And probably for a time after that. Do keep your spirit." "There's half a starfleet," Han rasped through the hold that was growing ever tighter, "that you could do this to. Why me?" "Because you're nothing, and yet you think you're something. I can't spare officers. I can't risk the disloyalty that a reign of terror breeds. You are a safe target. And you are the last to make the connection between Levant's and here." Luke let go and paced away. Without warning, the bonds let go. Effective conditioning kept Solo's hands on the arms of the chair, and off of his abused throat and arms. "Tell me about your princess," he managed, hoping to derail where the evening was going. "I know her from the Senate. She's a young hot-head from Alderaan, all fired up for freedom and justice and all the things she says the Empire isn't providing its citizens. Her father is influential in the peace faction. Get my boots." Luke sat down. Now this, this was the prelude to a much quieter sort of entertainment. Han dropped to one knee and tugged the high, polished boots off. As he set each foot back on the floor, he caressed the back of each calf and knee in its turn. "Was that gratitude, a distraction or is it possible you still want me after all this?" "I want Luke back." "I'm here." "No, I think the man in front of me is still Lord Vengar. You see, Luke's a nice guy. He wouldn't be threatening me, or the pretty girl." "You see only what you want to, fool. There is no division." When the kick knocked him across the room, Han was glad he'd already gotten the boots off. He sprawled against the bed, shaking his head to clear it. "Yes, I think that will do nicely. Since you are so bent on interceding for the Princess, I suppose it's only fitting you should take her place like this as well. Flat on your back." That chimed with something he'd heard earlier. "So we're back to the Corellian whore?" "We are all whores. It's only a matter of price. You sold your body to me for your partner's safety. If I choose to alter the bargain, all you can do is hope I don't alter it further. I wonder what the princess' price is going to be." *I only hope you never get the chance to find out.* Han stifled the thought rapidly, and tried not to think about anything for the rest of the night.