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Leia Organa, by @Star_Wars_Legends_Illustrated
Dusk fell on Coruscant, but that did not mean Imperial City slept. Like a shining beacon of the Uscru District, the Galaxies Opera House came alive. Princess Leia Organa had gone there several times with her father, the Viceroy. The theatre was a fantasy Leia did not have time for in her new role with the Alliance, but when the Emperor invites a senator to attend the opera, you attend. Rushing up the stairs, Leia passed all sorts of beings making their way to their boxes. Though aliens were looked down on in the Empire, this place seemed to remind theatregoers that they certainly existed and would be let in. Finally in the hallway, Leia found the box reserved for Emperor Palpatine. He sat with several of his advisors, men her father had called part of the old guard, as well as some other guests. Two crimson Royal Guards flanked her as she walked in. The advisors, as close to cheery and in good spirits as Leia would be able to picture them being, instantly returned to stoic and stood from their seats, gathering together to leave.
“Leia Organa, thank you for joining me this evening.” The Emperor’s skin rotten, his nails and teeth yellowed. He gestured for her to sit in the seat next to him, an action that wouldn’t have seemed sinister from most. Palpatine could make donating to an orphanage seem sinister.
“The galaxy has such a talent for resurrecting its dead mistakes,” Palpatine said mildly as the two of them prepared to watch the latest iteration of The Despotica.
Leia turned her head toward him from the curve of the private opera box. Below them, the orchestra pit shimmered with soft light, the audience a sea of murmurs and silks. The music had not yet begun, but the hall already seemed to listen.
“Tell me, my dear,” he continued, hands folded in his lap, voice warm, almost indulgent, “are you aware of the recent history of Provodi?”
Leia straightened slightly in her seat. “I’m aware of the rebellion that ended two years ago,” she said. “Four years of fighting, the casualties were catastrophic.”
Palpatine smiled faintly, as if she had confirmed something he had known all along.
“Yes. Ended,” he repeated. “Though such conflicts rarely conclude as cleanly as historians prefer.” His gaze drifted toward the stage below. “And yet its roots are very old indeed.”
He inclined his head toward the vast dome of the opera house, as though the building itself were part of the lesson. “A Millenia ago, Provodi rebelled against Xim the Despot. In turn, he reduced the world to ash. Nuclear fire. Total annihilation. The sort of sin history pretends it has outgrown.” His tone never sharpened. If anything, it softened. “The Provodese survived anyway. Through will. Through structure. Through a ruling system so intricate it could only have been born from trauma.”
Leia’s brow furrowed. “You’re saying the ear was Xim’s fault?”
Palpatine chuckled quietly, the sound nearly lost beneath the distant tuning of instruments. “Fault is such a crude word. Consequence is more useful.” He turned his gaze back to her. “Xim’s destruction forced Provodi to become resilient, suspicious, obsessed with control. A society that fears chaos above all else eventually invites tyranny with open arms.”
Leia folded her hands together, tension betraying itself in the stillness of her posture. “King Hyress.”
“An Imperial asset,” Palpatine agreed pleasantly. “Installed to lead the world to eternal prosperity, and to ensure its loyalty. I gave him latitude. Freedom.” He opened one hand slightly. “I allowed Vanisir to rule without interference.”
He sighed, just perceptibly. “I regret the choices Hyress had made.”
Leia looked at him now, openly troubled. “And his rule collapsed into open rebellion.”
“Yes,” Palpatine said. “Four years of bloodshed. Despite our garrisons and authority, the rebels endured. Loyalists, insurgents, revolutionaries—all convinced they alone spoke for Provodi.” His expression darkened, just perceptibly. “And in the end, not justice—but betrayal.”
He continued calmly, “Hyress was killed by one of his own Kingsguard. A violation of oath beyond words.
Leia inhaled slowly. “That ended the war.”
“It ended the illusion,” Palpatine corrected gently. “The Empire was forced to reassert control. Our troops restored order to a world exhausted by rebellion and chaos.”
A pause settled between them. Somewhere below, a musician struck a single note, testing the hall.
“You knew Hyress wouldn’t survive,” Leia said.
Palpatine did not deny it. “Power, when left unchecked, always reveals its true character. Hyress simply did it faster than most.” His eyes glinted faintly in the reflected lights of the dome. “The Provodese Rebellion is the final expression of Xim’s legacy—a thorn in my side, yes, but also a lesson written in blood.”
Leia lifted her chin. “A lesson for whom?”
“For you,” he said softly. “For the Senate. For anyone naive enough to believe authority can be granted without consequence.” He leaned closer, his voice lowered so only she could hear. “Provodi reminds us what happens when rulers mistake permission for legitimacy.”
Leia met his gaze, unsettled. “And the Empire?”
Palpatine smiled again—kind, grandfatherly, inscrutable—as the first true notes of the performance rose from below.
“The Empire,” he said, “exists so that such lessons need not be learned twice, my dear.”
He turned his attention toward the stage, leaving the music, and his words, to fill the space between them as the first act began.
***
The first act concluded with Xim saying, “You should know by now that I don’t care which method you choose, so long as you bring us victory.”
There was a brief applause, and then the very air felt colder as the Emperor leaned in toward Leia. She just about froze in terror as his yellowed and rotted teeth formed themselves into a wicked grin. Somehow, she found the resolve to force her own half-smile as she turned to face the most powerful man in the universe. “Was the first act of The Despotica to your liking, my darling?” he asked in a deep, croaking voice.
Noticing the conversation not to involve them, a few of those around, including Roganda Ismaren and a Gungan representative, stood up to briefly depart for the intermission. “It truly is a timeless tale. I liked the way that Shullos gave insights into Kadenzi,” Leia responded, turning away from the Emperor ever so briefly to check the clock that counted down until the second act. It wasn’t a very long intermission, thankfully.
Palpatine, still as hoarse as ever, replied, "It may surprise you that Oziaf is one of the characters I found most interesting—after all, he and I have such little in common. But it is theorized by some scholars he was one of Xim's closest confidants, and even alleged by some, that it was he who, by some strange power, manipulated Xim the entire time. Could you imagine such a ridiculous theory—that a mere comic relief character could be more powerful than the mighty despot?"
“Sometimes,” Leia whispered, putting on her most brave face, “it is the overlooked in the galaxy who are indeed the most impactful.” The implication was of course intentional, but she knew that her defiant words would do little to startle the Emperor.
Palpatine turned back to the vacant stage, saying, “You’d be wise to know that I overlook nothing. I have a great many eyes.”
“Of course, your majesty,” she deferred politely.
After the lull continued for a few moments, Palpatine asked, “Did you ever hear the tragedy of Erissa Orenaia?”
“The name sounds a bit familiar,” Leia said, trying to recall her history classes. Winter would probably know more.
Palpatine raised a hairless brow, barely visible beneath his dark hood, complimenting, “You’re a smart young woman. But I’m hardly surprised you wouldn’t recall the details. It’s not a story that your schoolteachers would tell you.”
After Leia didn’t respond to the jab at Alderaanian education, Palpatine continued, “Most consider it a myth. But in a minority of ancient sources, it was said that she may have actually been a major figure in the events of the second act.”
“Legends often introduce new characters.”
“On the contrary,” Palpatine began, “some of the Empire’s most premier historians suggest that this may be a case of her being removed by Xim’s own censorship. Mentions of her were recently found in the tracts of Taith Onderas.”
Leia countered, “For any leader, especially a despot, to silence opposition often only draws attention to it. As it was said to Xim in this very act, ‘the more you tighten your grip, the more star systems will slip through your fingers.’”
“And yet, his fist did enclose the stars. And his name has outlived time. It certainly, clearly, did outlive the name of his adversary, Orenaia,” the Emperor pointed out, “She was a brave woman, and she had such a knowledge of Xim’s courts. She knew what every single one of his nobles and admirals cared about… and she used it to influence them greatly.”
“To turn them against Xim?”
“Such are the ambitions of some young women.”
Leia could already see where this was going, so she didn’t feel the need to say much. Eventually, Palpatine continued, “She had their betrayal so well-planned out, the only thing that could have gone wrong was being betrayed herself—which, in the end, of course, she was. If the legends are to be believed, it was humble Oziaf who purported to join her rebellion… only to betray them all on its very eve. Her death was probably unceremonious, perhaps even in her sleep.”
“There are certainly more gruesome fates,” Leia managed.
“Of course,” Palpatine replied, “But Xim did not just destroy them; he erased them. Their history, their loved ones, their worlds… We’ve already discussed Orenaia’s homeworld of Provodi, but what do you know of Astigone and Xoraes, homeworlds of her collaborators, Gelistar and Essan?”
He might as well be making up names.
“Completely sterilized as well, and lost to time” the Emperor murmured. His threat resonated clearly… especially if the rumors from our spies are true.
But Leia did have one solace: “And yet, despite all his efforts, Xim dies in the end.”
Palpatine cackled, "It took a tyrant to beat one. The Hutts won the day, and it’s generally accepted he lived his last days on Varl, a miserable slave. Ironic, isn't? Once so great, descended to the humiliation of slavery, chained to one of those slugs... could you even imagine it, Leia?"
She shuddered, and Palpatine concluded, “Such are the risks one accepts when fighting against tyrants.”
“And yet,” Leia stammered, “I’d prefer his fate to Orenaia’s.” Inside, she wondered what it would take to avoid that fate, to protect her people while fighting the Empire. Of course, if Palpatine actually had spies in her midst aboard the Tantive IV, he wouldn’t have so obviously warned her about them. Or would he? She looked over at the enigmatic Emperor, but he was now turned toward the stage, his face shrouded by the hood. Nothing was certain, but perhaps that was his goal. She would have to tread very, very carefully in these next few weeks. If the mission to Ralltiir goes sour…