Prelude
Mos Polis: Medical Facility
Obi-Wan Kenobi's fingers rubbed against the placid surface of a pendant. The jewelry entrusted to him by the late Padme Amidala. She died shortly after the delivery of her twins, Luke and Leia. He didn't know why she gave it to him, or what the significance held by the item was, but he kept it none the less. The last gift a good friend had for him.
He stared at her children, only hours old while her last words repeated themselves in an eerie echo; he couldn't stop their ring.
"There's… good in him, Obi-Wan… I know… I know… there's still…"
No matter how much he wanted to believe it, he couldn't. His former student and brother was dead. Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker wouldn't kill children. Anakin wouldn't turn his back on his sisters and brothers. Anakin wouldn't choke his heavily pregnant wife… but Vader would. That monster had suffocated his friend out of his own body. The body left empty with no trace of the former resident. Vader wore his skin proudly, as a camouflage and trophy, but the stranger couldn't fool Kenobi.
Anakin Skywalker was dead, and that was a fact.
He survived by his two children. The only hope left for a galaxy. The responsibility rested on two premature babies' shoulders.
He looked down at the markings hand carved into the japor ivory wood. Unfamiliar hieroglyphics etched and curved into its paleness. She was probably given the gift from a young civilian of her home planet Naboo; a small memento of her lost life. The little girl, soon to be Leia Organa and princess of Alderaan, would have this. Something of Leia's mother to be close to her heart. He placed it next to her little body and stroked her good-bye. He knew the likelihood of seeing her again didn't exist.
"May you live a strong life, Leia. The force will be with you always," he gave her one last bittersweet pet over her velvet head, and left to accompany Luke to his new home. The young princess would never be forgotten.
Coruscant: Hidden Medical Lair
Poison:dark, putrid poison seeped through Anakin Skywalker's veins. Words, which created the poison's entrée, dripped crimson red.
"It seems, in your anger, you killed her…"
Killed Padme? Impossible! He reached out to touch her soothing force signature. Her presence had always been with him, been a reassuring touchstone. Nothing. It… it was gone—vanished from this realm. She… she wasn't here anymore; the nail which sealed her coffin.
An unholy silence befell the room, then the cold truth of Darth Sidious' words.
Senator Padme Amidala was dead. The pain was unbearable. In a moment of unfelt before anger, he'd lost control and killed the ones he wanted to save. Their baby torn from life before it had begun, by none other than its father. The guilt was unimaginable. She was gone, his angel was gone forever, and the last thing she saw was her murder's merciless face. The fear in her eyes, the horror. The regret was unendurable.
She. Was. Dead.
As he wept and screamed without control, he heard the deep voice of a monster. It wasn't his, but a machine's: heartless, cold, dutiful. That is what he must become.
Poison, lethal and hateful spread throughout Anakin Skywalker, finally destroying anything good left.
No more Anakin. No more mercy, no more love, no more fear. Skywalker's world was void and had vanished. Only Darth Vader was to remain. Only his world was to become. The darkness was to be morphed into a man without care, without hesitation, without weakness.
A machine.
The fault of Skywalker was not to remain. Instead of love, there was to be hate. Kindness replaced with cruelty. Honor to be exchanged for baseness.
No more Padme meant no more Anakin, plain and simple.
He clenched his mechanical hands into tight fists. The galaxy shall know the unimaginable suffering just as he felt it. Retribution was the new order now, and nothing would break his grip.
The screeches and screams of shattering metal and glass under his pain were to be the universe's. Soon everyone will know it, feel it. The day of the just was at end, the era of the Sith was to be born.
Five years later
Star Destroyer: Exactor
A brooding black figure stood posted at his usual spot on the bridge. He could sense all those around him and thus kept them in check. His Imperial ship would be nothing without order. His ears tuned in and out of the beeps, engine purrs, computer chatters and nervous murmurs. Lensed eyes looked out the windows ahead. Lonely space stretched before him further still. For the past three years, he's been on a voyage through space without cease. No matter how far he went into the void of space, it kept rolling out before him; an endless scroll of stars, asteroid belts, planets and galaxies.
"Lord Vader?" a shaken voice announced.
He turned his head, only to sense the fear thicken in each extremely aware man. Their emotions contented him. "Yes?" he growled turning to face the young lieutenant.
"We… we are approaching the Alderaan system, milord."
He turned away, "Begin standard procedures, Lieutenant Jungen."
"Yes, right away lord Vader," Jungen fumbled over his own feet then went to his orders.
Vader ignored the young man, a man far too young in his opinion to be on this ship. His mind quickly changed subjects. What have you been up to, Organa? He mused to himself. This man was leading a suspicious group, formally Delegation 2000, now 'The Alliance'. He knew these schemes were more than unorganized and cowardly, but in fact planned and serious.
Alderaan: Capital City
When one held a title as infamous as Darth Vader, and he walked through a street, everyone parted and did everything to dodge eye contact and not stare. Windows closed and entire cities ran to a halt and families shivered together. Fine by Vader. Constant physical pain, emotional pain and frustration made him in no mood to socialize.
The dark lord winced as improperly bone-drilled prosthetics grinded into him with each stair. A massive staircase always seemed to accompany him to his off ship treks. Finally at the top; his mood fouler than when he landed.
With a small platoon of 501st Clones behind him, Vader walked his ways through halls into Viceroy Bail Oragana's private office. The middle-aged man stared above his glasses, realizing the intruder to be none other than Darth Vader.
He dropped his report and quickly stood, "Lord Vader! What an unexpected surprise…"
Vader raised his hand, "Spare me your pleasantries, Viceroy. I am here to discuss your group of rebels."
A stunned expression formed his face, "I have no idea what you are talking about…"
"Your Alliance, Viceroy!" Vader growled. "Formerly known as the Delegation 2000, a traitorous organization against the Emperor."
"I can assure you, we are no such thing. Simply and organized relief effort for those abandoned by the Empire. Entirely legal, approved by the Empire in fact! 'A charitable effort for the less fortunate' in the exact words!"
Only said to please the public you lying parasite, Vader spited.
"Oh? Does a relief effort need so many funds?!" he threw a holo-pad on Organa's desk.
Bail skimmed it over, skillfully hiding his fear for this leak. He looked at the Sith, "Everything is expensive now days, you must surely know this. You were present during the Clone Wars; things were cheaper then, surprisingly." He handed the holo-pad back.
Suspicion grew as the older man so comfortably referred to his past, and Vader took a threatening step, "I existed only at the end of those terrible battles, the one who ended them all. So, let's make this clear. Who exactly am I, Viceroy?" he growled.
Bail didn't flinch, not stunned by his ramble answer, "Vader, milord."
An approvable answer.
Murder of Anakin Skywalker, the man you once were.
Darth Vader heard Organa's thoughts as if he had spoken them. So he knew the truth about his former identity: interesting. Vader didn't appreciate him having this knowledge, and wanted to thoroughly remind him who he was, encase he might ever forget.
The Viceroy's trachea constricted under the new Sith lord's infamous force grip. "I would be careful, Organa, you know not the path you've walked on." He released him, his dry cruelty remained. He pointed a threatening finger at him.
The older man, still catching his breath, rubbed the place where invisible fingers had lain.
"You and your Alliance will not be forgotten. I will be watching you and your unorganized gang of rebels. Until we meet again, Viceroy." He hissed out the last word and turned to exit, surprised to see Bail's wife, Queen Breha Organa, and a girl no older than six. The little girl Vader assumed to be their adopted child.
A cold beacon of terror beamed from Organa, he immediately went in between his family and Vader. His family wasn't supposed to be here. An unfortunately timed surprise visit.
"Lord Vader," Queen Breha gasped, clinging to the little hand of her daughter. He'd lost that right long ago, she reminded herself.
"Your majesties," he 'greeted', confused with Bail's sudden surge of horror. Not a fear of having his family in the same room as Vader, but a higher level. A fear level that people have when afraid of getting caught. Why? Something was amiss here, and Vader knew it. Why not make Organa sweat, and maybe he'll get more information. Vader crossed his arms and stood back on his heels. "How is the new Imperial Healthcare treating your planet, Queen Organa?" Bail's fear declined with that, the discomfort still clear as he moved behind the child. So it wasn't his wife…
"How would you expect, milord? The quality in the hospitals has declined, and people wait half a standard orbit for a simple checkup," Her Grace smoothly answered, as if rehearsed.
"I see, surely you are not using the system correctly."
"Perhaps." Breha did everything she could to not say more.
So, Bail was not worried about his wife, clearly. Onto the child: "And who is this?" he said, gesturing to the girl.
Organa's fear zoomed again. Ah… it was the daughter. "Our daughter, Lord Vader. Who must be getting back—"
"Nonsense, Viceroy. And I know full well she is your daughter, it was a name I acquired after."
"Leia," all heads looked down to the little girl, who so fearlessly introduced herself. "My name is Leia," she confirmed, confused with their stares.
Leia… What his daughter would have been named—but surely there are billions with that name, surely…
"Leia?" Darth Vader hardly said, trying his best not to be consumed with grief. "What a beautiful name, young princess." The most beautiful… he hauntingly thought.
The sweat was now clear on Bail's face. There was something in the way the Sith said it, the way he was acting… Organa didn't know whether to go for his blaster, or stay nonchalant. But he knew each second Leia was around Vader was one step closer to him figuring it out. Bail knew they should have changed her name! Of course her father had a say in it… Vader was figuring it out now, wasn't he!?
Vader sensed Leia out, who was uncharacteristically calm for a child. Children cried when he walked into a room, she didn't. What was much more interesting was that she was a force sensitive. Very force sensitive, but also very untrained. Her overpowering signature timidly poked at his, an act of curiosity. She became bolder with each poke, as if remembering something.
Normally, Vader would have given her a harsh stab through the force to prevent further irritation.
But he didn't.
There was something so unforgettably familiar about her, from her eyes to her force signature… Something from long ago which he'd do anything to forget. He only stared at the girl, unable to move or truly think.
Even through the red colored lenses his mask held, he recognized: her dark eyes and her brown hair, rather wavy than curly. She was a cruelly perfectected twist of both his wife and mother. Haunting, far too haunting. He wanted to hate her—what she reminded him of, but he couldn't.
If we were to of had our daughter, this would be her… he bitterly thought to himself.
Abruptly, he left the room, cape wildly flaring behind; the young princess never forgotten.
Author's Notes:
I have tapped into my alter ego writer. This story's muse has collected in my head for years, finally it decided to shine bright. The atmosphere will be much different from my other story. Please tell me what you think, I would really appreciate it.
Important: I hate to say it, but honestly, the continuation of this story will really depend on the reviews. This is a test chapter, and if I post another chapter it means I will finish it, but only if my time will be spent wisely. Otherwise, I will focus strictly on When Dreams Clash With Realities (no, have not forgotten about it I swear!). So please, don't be shy! Just a line will help. :)
The cover was made by: shorelle. She is a wonderful artist, you should REALLY check her out! (Link in profile)
(If there is chapter one) Chapter 1: Death and Life
The tenth birthday of Leia Organa. She receives a very special gift.
Hope you have enjoyed this chapter, I greatly look forward to your thoughts.
God Bless,
Heaven's Prayers