Divica Bluedancer was walking through endless and shady corridors, accompanied by a man who was clad in a dark robe, his face hidden under a hood. He had introduced himself as Vaneé when she arrived. He gave her the creeps. She wondered how he was even able to see where he was walking, with the hood this deep over his face.

Divicas heart beat hard against her ribs, she was very nervous and fearful. When she received the order to go to Mustafar she almost fainted because Darth Vader, the Emperor's right-hand man, wanted to see her. When that feeling finally past and Divica regained her composure, nausea overwhelmed her suddenly and she had to run for the restroom to puke her soul out.

The imperial Troopers where unimpressed by this and patiently waited until she felt better, had packed a few things and was ready for departure.

No one had told her why Lord Vader wanted to see her, for what reason she was brought to him. In fact, none of her questions were answered on the jump through hyperspace. The Troopers had simply guided her to a transport shuttle, made sure she sat down in one of the seats and buckled up, then they had started the ship and taken off.

Now Divica was here on this volcanic planet, at Vaders stronghold, his private sanctuary. She was doomed. There was no escaping from the claws of the Dark Lord of the Empire.

The air on this planet was hot and humid, filled with sulfur and smoke which made it hard to breathe. Lava rivers ran everywhere in-between black hills and mountains. Inside the castle though, it was cool, the air fresh and breathable. Very clean, she noticed, as if strongly filtered. The stonewalls were carved with strange pictures and drawings, beautiful and terrifying at the same time. She recognized them to be old ancient Sith art. A cold shiver ran through her, this place was impressive, yet, it scared her to her wits.

Finally they approached a door, it slid open and Vaneé guided her through. They entered a wide room, Divicas steps reverberated off the walls as they walked through. Vaders servant made no noise at all, only the soft rustling of his robe could be heard. Suddenly he made a halt, turned towards Miss Bluedancer and reached for her bag. "Let me take your belongings up to your room. Lord Vader will be with you shortly."

"No", Divica said determined. "I want to take it there myself, it's my stuff and -"

At this moment another door opened and the typical mechanic breathing of Darth Vader was audible, as well as his heavy steps as he approached. Divica let go of her bag, it fell to the floor with a loud thud. Vaneé dropped to his knees in deference. "My Lord, Miss Bluedancer is here."

"Thank you, Vaneé.", Vader replied and a few moments later his black figure stood right in front of Divica. The servant vanished unobtrusively through the door.

"Welcome to my home, Miss Bluedancer", Vader addressed her, his steady breathing never diminishing.

Divica stared at him for a while, her heart beating nervously in her chest. This mask staring at her with those rigid black eyes made her very uneasy. "Why … why did you summon me here? What can I - a simple psychiatrist - possibly do for you? Nobody wanted to tell me."

"Well, my troopers just follow orders, which does not include explanations." Vaders tone through the vocoder of his helmet was indifferent. "Follow me to my chambers Miss Bluedancer, I'd like to get started."

"Get started with what, Mr. Vader?"

"You may call me my lord, or Lord Vader", he said almost amused. "And you will help me to overcome my mental and emotional pains and sorrows."

"I … I am supposed to give you therapy?"

"That is correct, Miss Bluedancer."

Twenty minutes later Divica sat in a black and surprisingly comfortable sofa in one of Darth Vaders private rooms. His servant served some tea and pastry on a tray, which he put on a coffee table in front of her. After he poured some tea in her cup, Vaneé retreated and left her alone with Vader.

Vaders eyes - well, what seemed to be the eyes in that terrible mask - stared at her. She clearly noticed him looking her up and down, intensely.

Divica reached for the cup of tea, her hand shaking slightly while bringing it to her mouth to take a sip. Vader was silent, watching her, uttering no sound other than his breathing. Divica didn't feel any better than before, she felt even more uneasy and on edge. The presence of Darth Vader right in front of her, so close, sent shivers down her spine. Those black eyes in this rigid mask looked right through her, directly down into her very soul. It frightened her because there were no emotions or the slightest stirring, only this black, shiny helmet.

"Please don't be afraid, Miss Bluedancer", Vader said calm and softly. "No harm will come to you. I summoned you here because I need help, and I was told you were the best in your profession."

Divica blinked her eyes a few times, then put the cup back on the tray. Again she cleared her throat before replying. "That means I am here as your psychologist?"

Vader nodded. "Correct."

"Okay. Yes, I see … well, what is your problem then, Mr. … Lord Vader?"

Vader lowered his gaze, clawed his fingers into the armrests of his chair. "I … I dream a lot since a few months", he started, his voice tense. "Nightmares and anxiety don't make me very effective, only unstable. The Empire needs me, I can't afford to be only half functional, plus, the Emperor senses my confusion. I tried to analyze those dreams, but they are nothing but mere dreams, no visions, no premonitions. They haunt me nonetheless."

"And how can I be of help?"

"Make them go away." This time Vaders voice was nothing but a whisper and Divica sensed the emotion and despair behind these words. "Just … make them go away."