I really really needed to practice writing Vader. In the much larger WIP I am writing, I often find myself struggling when trying to get his voice right, so I started this as a way to explore his headspace at various points in the timeline.
Some of the dialogue at the start of this chapter comes from Darth Vader (2017-) #10 and was written by Charles Soule
Chapter One: In which Vader does not destroy the list of Force-sensitive children, and Darth Vader (2017-) #10 has a different end.
0 AFE
"Master I have a report. Jocasta Nu tried to escape our custody. She was… careless. She perished in the attempt."
"I see. Regrettable. Return to me my apprentice. I would hear the story of the witch's end. But first - tell me - did you learn anything from Jocasta before her death?"
Vader hesitated, data disc held in one hand. It would be so easy to lie. To crush it. They were only children.
He did not lie. He did not crush the disc.
"Yes, Master. The Jedi was carrying a list of Force-sensitive children."
"Excellent, Lord Vader, most excellent! Ah, yes. I assume you have already downloaded its contents?"
"Of course my Master."
"Good. Good!"
"What would you have me do?"
"Go, go and find these children. My Inquisitors are not quite ready for this task, you will bring them to me yourself."
"Right away."
Vader stared at the corpse of Jedi Master Jocasta Nu for a few moments longer, before turning to storm onto the nearest clone transport.
There was an irritating awkward moment of confusion where the clones did not seem to know how to react.
Incompetents.
How wrong he had been to ever see them as sympathetic.
Individuals.
He knew better now.
Marching towards a ship he reviewed the information the list provided once more.
The children were arranged by planet of origin, and the list held no further information than name and date of birth.
There was no information to help track them down other than that. Not what species they were, where on the planet they could be found, nothing.
There were no records to help him on Coruscant. He would have to check with the authorities on each individual planet, in hopes of rooting the children out.
The list began on Alderaan, with a four year old child named Darien Whit.
He set the coordinates for Alderaan, the hyperspace lanes connecting Alderaan and Coruscant robust and easy to plot.
He'd be there within the hour.
A month.
Almost one full month.
One month since the Republic fell.
One month since the Empire rose.
One month since Padmé had died.
One month since… since he held Leia for the first time.
One month since Breha had smiled at him brighter than any star in the sky, cradling their daughter - their daughter - in her arms for the very first time.
Just yesterday Leia had smiled at him!
Actually smiled!
It had been a month unlike any other.
Full of tears and diapers and sleepless nights and endless existential dread
So much existential dread.
And nightmares, oh the nightmares. It seemed every time he closed his eyes he saw it anew. The Temple burning. The dead bodies. Everywhere, dead bodies. Dead children. Young and innocent, dead before their lives could start.
The boy, the one who died trying to keep him safe, weighed the heaviest on his heart. So much destruction, so much terror, and at the heart of it all was a man he had once believed to be a friend.
There was only one thing that brought him comfort at night when the dreams woke him from his sleep.
His Leia.
She was his anchor.
His lifeline.
His whole world.
His daughter!
Which is why when the guards came looking for him on the morning when his world ended, he was asleep in her room, passed out asleep in the chair in the corner.
"Sir, there is a ship entering orbit. There was only one pilot on board, and he is requesting access to land at the Palace's landing pad. Says he is an Imperial Representative?"
"Did he provide you with any sort of personal codes or name? Surely he knows we can not clear him to land without some proof of his story."
"Yes sir. He said his name was Darth Vader? His codes all checked out."
It was over.
It was all over.
He had barely even started to get to know her, and already his greatest joy would be lost to him forever.
Breha was spending her morning locked in meetings with advisers, working out exactly how to best respond to the government that had replaced their beloved Republic. He was afraid those meetings would have to be put on hold. This was infinitely more important.
Four words spoken into his comm, heart sinking like a weight, and his wife was pulled into the terrible panic alongside him. "My love, he's here."
The Queen and her husband were waiting for him at the platform.
Good, they understood his importance.
His eyes lingered overly long on the Viceroy. On Padmé's closest friend. Thankfully the mask prevented anyone from knowing where it was he looked.
That was not his life now, it had happened to someone else.
In the end Skywalker had been nothing more than a sad deluded fool. He would not let himself get trapped by Skywalker's weaknesses.
The Royal couple watched him with an uneasy air. It suffused the Force around them.
They were terrified.
Good.
They should be.
"Lord Vader, it is my honor to welcome you to Alderaan. May I ask what is the purpose of this visit? We have complied in full with the Emperor's orders, and have neared completion of our new constitution and charter in response to the change in the codes." The Queen was good at masking her feelings, but not good enough. He knew she hated him, almost as much as he hated himself.
He did not know what cause he had given for such personal hatred. He was still unknown to all within the Empire. Unrecognized. So how and why had he come to occupy such a place of loathing here already?
The Force surged around his suspicion, urging him to investigate.
The monitors on his chest flashed as his heart began to elevate, what could be more important than his Master's mission, unless… unless they were hiding the Whit child?
That had to be it. As the rulers of this overly privileged and rich planet they of course knew there was a potential Jedi among them. Such a child would not have been ignored.
He would not let them keep him from fulfilling his Master's command.
"I have come for the child." Simple. Direct. There was a small chance that if he made what he needed clear they would not put up a pitiful resistance. "If you had believed you can hide a Force-sensitive child from me, then you were mistaken."
Deepest sorrow, excruciating pain. Who was Whit to these two, for them to react in this way? The emotions were strong, powerful. Personal.
Wait.
At the edge of his senses, here in this palace, he could sense…
A child!
Was that Whit?
Could it be so easy, was the child here?
He had anticipated having to locate the child's home, for this to be more challenging. As it was, this was easy enough to be insulting. Did his Master really think so little of his abilities?
The royal couple were speaking, but since he did not care about what they had to say he ignored them, focusing on the presence he had felt instead. Whoever this Whit child was, they were powerful. Very powerful.
He marched into the palace, determined to search every room if he had to to locate the child. It was easy, when one could scatter the guards attempting to block the way with little more than the flick of a hand.
There was something so familiar about this presence. But what, and how? He had never been to this planet before, not even once.
The baby at the end of his search was far too young to be Darien Whit.
The Force surged and sang as he entered the nursery, hastening his every step.
This child was important.
This child was… was…
Padmé had, in her enthusiasm during her pregnancy, made Skywalker watch holos on parenting with her, countless parenting holos. Holos on developmental milestones, various psychological theories in regards to best care, all the way down to instructions on how to change a diaper.
It was thanks to those holos that Vader knew this baby was around four weeks old.
The baby's little hands were still balled in tiny fists, but wide eyes tracked his movement, and when he peered down into the crib the child let out a loud and curious coo.
Four weeks.
The light was blinking again. Warning him as it struggled to bring his heart back under control.
Had this child been born at the same time he was made?
There was noise in the doorway, followed by a sob. The Viceroy. "Please! Please Anakin, please don't hurt her."
Hurt her? Why would he-
Wait.
"What did you call me?"
The Viceroy moved quickly, placing his body between Vader and the baby in the crib. "I won't let you take Leia."
Leia.
That… that was the name he and Padmé were going to give…
Four weeks.
The baby was four weeks old.
The right age to be…
There was a cry from the door - possibly the Queen? - as Vader choked the foolish man who had placed himself between Vader and his daughter, followed by an answering wail from Leia herself.
Comforting her was more important than punishing this man, so he threw him aside, towards the door. He could be the people in the doorway's problem now.
He stepped closer to the crib, peering down at the child within with renewed interest.
She had the faintest suggestion of his nose, and his mother's eyes, and Padmé's cheeks, and yes he would need to do blood scans to make sure but he was confident this child was his.
He reached into the crib, a part of him mourning that he'd never get to feel how soft or warm her newborn skin was, that neither of his prosthetic hands allowed him to fully experience the wonder of holding his own child. But she was his. His.
He no longer cared at all about the child his Master had sent him to retrieve. The Inquisitors could deal with that matter later, it had always been beneath him.
The Queen was blocking the doorway when he turned around, baby in his arms. She was crying and screaming. There was a blaster in her hands, did she really think that would be enough to deter him? What a waste of energy. He threw her back, knocking over a platoon of guards as he did.
Maybe one day people would understand how pointless it was to resist him. He was more powerful than any of them could ever dream of being, even after the injuries he had sustained on Mustafar.
The baby cried all the way to the ship, did not stop even after they had entered hyperspace.
As soon as they landed he was going to need to request servants versed in childcare be brought to him. He did not trust his new limbs to handle the delicate tasks of caring for a child - for all his tinkering he had not quite gotten them working right yet - and moreover such work was beneath him now. He would also have to locate a wetnurse, he vaguely recalled from the holos that newborns were incapable of eating solids until they were several months old.
He didn't even have quarters of his own, just a bacta tank where he recovered between missions. That would have to change. For now he could place a cradle near his tank and watch over her while he floated, but with time she would age and desire privacy. He would have to speak to his Master about -
He would have to speak to his Master about many things.
Such as the Rule of Two, and the place his daughter would inevitably one day occupy within the SIth Order.
He would make it clear to his Master that no harm would come to her until she was at least old enough to begin her training. If his Master disagreed, then he would have to destroy him.
Yes, his Master had bested him in combat recently, proving why he was the Master and Vader the Apprentice, but the child he had discovered on Alderaan was far too precious to be eliminated. He would protect her, and in time they would rule the galaxy together as Father and Daughter.
But first he would have to figure out a way to make her infernal screaming end.
Her crying was giving him a headache, and he did not need internal pain to match the agony his body was already in. Perhaps there was a way to turn the audio receptors in his helmet down. If not, he would devise one.