I wish to remind everyone that I do not own Star Wars. Characters/names/locations/universe belong to their respective owners, I only own the content of this story.
Vader
For most of the Executor's crew, this day would be among the most strenuous ones. Every action, every movement, had to be calculated, precise, honed to perfection. They had to function like a well-oiled machine, powering the Empire's mightiest vessel, but today, they had to try twice as hard as that. Because today, Darth Vader stood on the vessel's bridge, gazing out into the stars. And failure in the presence of Vader, meant Death.
Yet, for Darth Vader himself, the lives of these men were like their eventual deaths. Insignificant. Right now, his mind was travelling, trying to shed the suffering, the unbearable pain, the encroaching darkness that covered his existence. Once more, he cursed inwardly at his respirator, the infernal apparition that took away even his own voice, and his ability to even sigh. Of course, he didn't need to sigh. He was Darth Vader. The Emperor's own Enforcer. A Hound of the Empire. A slave to a sadistic Sith Lord's whims. A puppet, dancing to his strings, felling any obstacle in the path of Darth Sidious.
Then again, this wasn't something that he should pin on Sidious. No, this one was another's fault. Obi Wan Kenobi's. On that blasted day on Mustafar…..He couldn't even bear to reminiscent about it. He could, even now, feel the flames engulf him, flesh sheared from bone, screams of pain, so much pain. Enough to flood any and all of his senses, drowning out the world around him. And then, the shame, the shame of Failure. He had been crushed by Kenobi, after he had taken his wife…Padme.
His train of thought stopped there. Padme. Even in his mind, her name echoed as nothing more than a timid whisper. He never dared to speak it aloud, even in his most private moments. He had murdered her. He loved her more than life itself and yet, he took her life. Once more, the darkness enveloped him, suffocating him. Despite his respirator constantly feeding him oxygen, he felt out of breath. The world was spinning. The weight on his chest was impossible to shake off. The guilt, the self-loathing were ripping him apart. Around him, the Dark Side rejoiced. The accursed deity was like a vulture, feeding off of the carcass Vader has become, empowering itself from his feelings, from the immeasurable pain that was living without her. He closed his eyes, trying to clear his mind. It was a mistake to think about her in the first place, but he couldn't. It was too much. He had lived so long, with her memory inside his heart, the only thing keeping him alive was the thought that once he was gone, he wouldn't even have his memories of her. So he clung to life, the life of a slave. The life of a man, broken by his own actions. The man who tried to take the World, the Force and Love all on his shoulders and was eventually crushed under their weight.
'But it doesn't have to be this way.' A voice inside him whispered. 'You can rise from the life of a slave and become an Emperor.' It spoke, louder now, commanding him. His conscious tried to shake it off. 'I cannot.' The other voice laughed. It was a sound that reminded him of durasteel meeting flesh and not a laughter. It made him shiver, internally. 'Of course you can. Palpatine is a relic of the past, holding you back. Tearing you apart. Making your life hell. Taking away from you what is rightfully yours.' Once more, his conscious protested: 'I can't. The Emperor is too strong.' The answer came swiftly and arrogantly: 'But you, are stronger. You can take him apart.' That one, was laughable. 'No, I cannot. He can squash me like a fly and I will never outsmart him. He knows the game far too well.' When the answer came, it sounded much less arrogant. More sensible. And more…hostile. 'Hide, if you will. But you, once, were the Chosen One of the Jedi. A padawan who achieved more than the Masters hoped to. A General who spelled doom for the separatists. Your potential is endless. And yet, you refuse to use it. You confine yourself into what Palpatine shows you, what he teaches you. You know you'll never surpass him like this, yet you refuse to act. Or do you think your pathetic acts of 'resistance' matter? A facility to heal your limbs here and there and a plot that wasn't even well thought-out once in a while do nothing but serve your delusions. You've given up, years ago. You could be expanding your power, endlessly. You could break through the old man's schemes, crush him under your boot's heel. Yes, you sit here, basking in the security of servitude. You never even have to think for yourself anymore, do you? Is that what you have come to? So afraid to even try and be human without being guided?' 'ENOUGH!' Vader didn't even realize he had shouted until the whole crew froze, literally froze in their spots, their fear palpable as they looked at him, wide-eyed. He didn't say a word, as he turned on his heel, walking out of the bridge. He was about to retort to the annoying voice, when an ensign reluctantly walked up to him. 'Lord Vader, the Emperor has commanded that you contact him.' Immediately, Vader pushed the poor man aside, as he rushed to his master's call. For the last time, the unknown voice whispered accusingly in his ear: 'You are every bit the slave you were before the Jedi found you.' And then it left him. Forever. And Vader was left alone, to kneel before Darth Sidious, as the tendrils of darkness were slowly reaching out towards his soul, again. The light in his soul faded completely, as he bent his head forward. 'What is thy bidding my Master?'