Day 11: Radiance
Summary: The life of Anakin Skywalker was full of color, but as Darth Vader, all he sees is red.
Once his life was brilliant and full of color. There were the golden hues of the desert complimented by the blues of the sky in his childhood. Then there were the brown robes of the Jedi Order and the greys of Coruscant skyline. This was followed by an explosion of color as he finally was able to explore different planets. Bright purples and vibrant pinks. The soothing green and blue of Naboo was his favorite, which was followed by the garish oranges of Geonosis.
But the one color that haunted him, that he became all too familiar with, was red.
Red blood of the hundreds upon hundreds of slain clone troopers and later Jedi dead by his hands.
Red lava and fires of Mustafar that claimed his body and soul and burnt into a black husk.
Red lightsaber that he channeled his anger and bloodlust through.
Red lenses of his mask that clouded his vision in that hue forevermore.
His world went from a rainbow kaleidoscope to monochromatic in an instant. He didn't mourn the loss of color from his life. Red suited him just fine. Red lava. Red lightsaber. Red blood. Red flags of the Empire he now devoted his life to.
Even though in his hyperbaric chamber or in his soaks in a bacta he was without the lenses, he never noticed any colors. It was all the same. The red had bled his way into his very optic nerves it felt like.
Until . . .
There was blue.
A blue lightsaber.
Odd how he noticed this blade's color when he hadn't even registered the blade of his former master when he had struck him down. But this blade held by this boy was blue. Painfully blue. It hurt his eyes. He wanted it gone. Wanted this boy gone.
But the boy escaped with the blue lightsaber.
And Vader became obsessed with that color. Blue holographs. Crushed blue holocrons. Blue streaks of hyperspace. Blue ice walls. Blue eyes.
Brilliant blue eyes complemented by blond hair.
His heart ached as he started to remember, but the red had stained his mind. Even his memories were painted in that wretched color.
Until there was a harsh blinding white. It exploded behind his eyes. It was all he could see. Just a blinding white . . .
The mask came off and he could see it. He could see the color! The color of the fire, orange and red and yellow. The color of the hangar, greys and blacks. The colors of his son, black and yellow and blue- oh those blue eyes. They were like the desert sky. He could remember! He could remember the colors!
"I've got to save you," the boy said.
"You already have, Luke," he replied.
He said his last words and smiled at his son and the beautiful radiance of the world.