Hello readers of FanFiction... I bring you a new story!
I have been struggling with depression a bit lately, and well... It kind of manifests itself in my writing, so I am taking a brief break from my other stories to throw this onto paper... However, I believe this will be a most interesting tale!
Hope you like it!
Leave a review, and lemme know what you think!
~Talicor
Everything is dark. My hands are bound. The lifeblood of the Force, painfully far away from my striving grasp as I march forward, the rattle of chains accompanying every one of my heavy steps, blatantly announcing not only my arrival, but my current status as well.
I can almost taste the delicious fear of the figures at my side. They were sent to guard and guide me to our destination, yet they could not bring themselves to so much as brush the edge of my cape. I can hear everything. From the clatter of their assorted weapons as they attempted to keep pace, to the very thoughts within their narrow minds.
... Can't believe it...
Skywalker sure outdid himself this time...
The guards' words are silenced by the hiss of a large door opening before us.
The darkness around me lightens subtly. No doubt from a new source of light up ahead.
"This way, Milord," one of the guards sneers, attempting to put on a face of bravery, such as a child would against a petty childhood fear. The monster under their bed perhaps, but I know better. His fear is one of the most palpable there, and gives me strength as I resume my walk through the hallways. Turning my head, I simply stare at the origin of this false bravado.
He shifts away, disturbed. He can feel my power, even bound as it is, and even with my head covered, he knows I sense him, and know exactly who he is.
We arrive at another set of doors. Another gateway through which I pass. Another obstacle between me and freedom. It is of no importance now. For I have never been truly free.
The sound of my breath is deafening throughout the deserted corridors. Not a single soul, besides my group of incompetent prison guards and I, remains in this area of the compound. They are all gathered ahead, waiting surely, to witness firsthand the administration of 'justice' to their greatest enemy of nearly twenty-five years.
At the opening of a final set of doors, we are greeted with a bombardment of noise so drastic that my audio sensors screech painfully in protest as they adjust. Cries of Murderer! and Traitor! shatter the air as I am guided to the center of the room, no one daring to lay a hand on me.
Taking my place, I stand firmly, becoming a statue before them as their leaders fan out around me. Mothma, Ackbar, Madine, and assorted others create this circle of condemnation. One being of import though, is missing.
"Lord Vader," the shrill voice of Mon Mothma cuts through my thoughts with their keen edge formed of hate and disgust, "You have been accused of multiple war crimes, including murder, genocide, espionage, torture of unprocessed prisoners, assassinations..."
Her words begin to lose shape before me as I delve within myself, feeling for the small thread that bound me to this life. Even now-especially now- I could simply cut that thread, and let go... Escape this torturous cage of my existence... But in the face of what I knew must come, that was cowardice, in its purest form.
And I, Darth Vader, am not a coward.
Working my knuckles, I pull myself back to the current situation.
"... How do you plead, Lord Vader?" The voice of the Alliance leader cuts at me again.
Still bound and blinded, I look up into where I could hear the crowd, who, at my movements, fell silent.
"To these things of which I stand accused," I begin, the words to seal my fate hanging on my lips, "Even if I were not guilty of all previously said, the lust for my death would seal my fate..." Swallowing, I remain still, gazing into the souls of my persecutors, "I plead guilty to that which I have been accused. Do what you will with me."
At my simple words, a huge wave of shock and incredulity come crashing down upon me, even in my inhibited state in the Force. Even Mothma had not expected such words from me. If anything, they had expected me to summon a lightsaber and behead all before me. Instead, they received words sealing death upon me from my own lips.
What does it matter in the end?
Dimly, I feel the air vibrate with a chorus of voices screaming for my recompense. For my head on a pike. For the death of the Empire, for with my fall, it shall soon follow.
"Order! Order!" The Chandrillian shrills above the din, "We have devised a plan for Lord Vader! For he is no ordinary Imperial... But the one that has brought the galaxy to its knees! He has hurt every one of us in this room..." My attention perks slightly as she pauses, drawing everyone in. "Simple execution would be easy enough," she continues, "But there is so much we can glean from this man-"
"That is no man!" The Rebels break out in anger, their emotions a light balm in this situation, "But a monster! And a machine! He's too dangerous to be left alive!"
Suddenly, I am reminded of an all too familiar situation... One involving those same lines...
It was the day my life ended, and my existence as a creature of darkness began.
"He's too dangerous to be left alive!" Glass shards dance about the room in a deadly game, electricity burning the air, as I stand amidst the storm.
"A-Anakin... Please... D-Don't let h-him hurt me! I have the power to save the ones you love!"
"Don't listen to him Anakin!"
"I need him!" A lightsaber cuts through the air, and the Master is gone.
I am no longer myself.
I am a monster... A slave to the Empire...
Again, I must force myself into the present, for my fate is to be decided. Right here, and right now.
"It is my suggestion that we allow Lord Vader to live." A feminine voice overturns the noise into silence, "At this point, he does not care whether he lives or dies! Killing him now would be doing him a favor! I say, let him live and learn of his crimes, see the full effect of how the other half of the conflict struggles..." A rumbling of debate fills the stands before me, as the option is considered. "He is too valuable of a source of information to just pass up! If we keep him, our chances of breaking the Empire's secrets will be all the greater!"
Quite simply, I am nearly dumbfounded at the actions going on around me. Someone was vouching for me... Defending the life of the most hated being in the galaxy...
Why?
I could feel there was more to this than I could know... More than the wealth of information I had, at any rate.
With my sensors adjusted to the low rumble of noise, I could pick up snippets of conversation: "Why yes... Lord Vader is rather valuable..."
"Yeah! Death would be too easy for the monster... It'd be letting him go, and freeing him of true punishment..."
One by one, the voices coalesced into a single thunderous rumble. It was the voice of democracy, and it cried not for blood, but for... Guilt.
"Let him live through his sin! Let him torture himself! See what we've lived through!"
"It is decided then!" The voice returns, light, yet commanding, "We will allot two months for Lord Vader's punishment, at which point, we will reconvene and decide whether he shall remain, or if execution is the better option."
Another roar of agreement, and I feel the dull end of a stun spear prod my back.
It appears someone has finally grown a spine, I think, recognizing the presence of my smart-mouthed guard.
Relishing his recoil of horror at the flick of my cape against his ankles, I allow them to follow after me to my cell.
I may be their prisoner, but that did not mean I could not destroy them if I so wished.
Someone wants me alive... And for now, I will play along.
Stepping into my cell, I turn to face the hallway before the door slides shut.
Let the games begin.