I do not and never will be able to outbuy Disney and therefore own Star Wars.
This work was written as a character study to explore the psych of one of the most complex and interesting Dark-Lord-Space-Wizard-Samurai ever created. References to Rogue One, Star Wars: The Clone Wars, and of course, the main movies.
"Star Wars: Ghosts in the Tower"
The dark tower was a melding of masonry, artistic vision, and foreboding. The structure's walls were so smooth and black that they seemed to suck in any surrounding light like a void. The dual spikes of onyx marble stabbed the burning sky in arrogance as the reinforced roots were gnawed by molten rivers of lava. Even from all the way up in the cold space of Mustafar's orbit, those unlucky enough to be cursed by the Force could hear the strangled gasps which choked their way from the black stone, trying to steal whatever clean air could be sifted from the ash and fire that polluted the planet's atmosphere. Truly, it was a beautiful - no, a perfect - monument to suffering.
Despite being called both a dwelling and fortress, the tower's furnishings were no better than those found in a prison. He'd chosen to live here, devoid of color, life, and comfort for years. In his opinion, this place was a prison. A huge and empty cage made of poisonous anger and hatred, all just for him. It helped him forget who he was and what he had lost.
The visions had come true. None of it had really mattered: That they'd gotten married. That he had chosen love over duty and friendship. That he hadn't meant to kill her and their baby. Everything had transpired as it had been destined to, but it didn't ease the trauma and torture he'd endured. It didn't change what her death had meant for him. Yet it certainly reinforced his belief that he deserved to call such a place his home.
The castle's main gate was reached after crossing a bridge with a circular platform in the center, suspended over a sheer drop into the molten lava below. The gate opened into a throne room where, as the castle's lord, he held court over empty space. Off to the side of the throne room was a triangular door which lead to a smaller chamber. Other than the large bacta tank situated prominently in the chamber's center, and the necessary medical hoses and equipment needed to operate it, the chamber was almost completely empty. The tank's glass was thick and the liquid bacta within a bright blue, so most of the occupant's features were obscured from sight. It was obvious from a glance at his silhouette, though, that he was missing all four of his limbs. If someone could float sadly, he definitely was.
A black suit of armor sat on a table off to the side, prepped and ready to be put on at a moment's notice, though it took much more than a moment to actually put on.
He hadn't reacted to her just yet. For all anyone knew, he might have been asleep. Darth Vader was dependent on the suit he wore to survive, and this bacta tank was the only place in the galaxy he could physically sleep in peace.
He finally sensed her presence. His golden rimmed eyes snapped open before squinting as they adjusted to the lighting. Once his vision stabilized, his scarred brows rose in confusion. She took a deep breath and moved towards the tank.
He shook in futile anger, a helpless puppet until someone removed him from the tank. He warily watched her approach, returning the smile on her face with a hard but impotent glare.
"Calm down, Ani," she said confidently, resting her palm against the cold glass. His anger receded for a moment as he studied her. "Let me finish getting settled, then I'll help you out of there." She patted the tank and turned on her heel. Ignoring Darth Vader's muffled curses of annoyance and, very possibly, a few threats, Padme left the room.