**Author's Note: Thank you to all who have favorited, followed, and reviewed. This is the first story I've published in like 10+ years, and I wasn't expecting anything to come of it, so I'm touched that folks seem to like it! Hope you enjoy this next installment!**
Chapter 1: Some Say The World Will End in Fire; Some say in Ice
Obi-Wan had locked onto the homing beacon's signal, despite overhearing their alleged destination. He'd sensed Vader's deceit, and it's a good thing too since the beacon indicated an entirely different location than the idyllic countryside of Naboo.
Back to the scene of the crime, are we?
Obi-Wan shuddered, remembering the surveillance footage of his former companion slaughtering the innocent younglings - their determined attempts to fight back despite the superiority of the enemy's swordsmanship. Their shocked faces at his aggression. Their utter and complete helplessness in the face of his mastery of The Force.
Which was, of course, Obi-Wan's fault. If only he had listened to Master Yoda and The Council, broken his word to Qui-Gon. The raw strength of The Force within young Anakin would have been useless without his training!
Obi-Wan felt, among his grief, a hot trickle of rage beginning to build within him. He wanted to shout. How could his own student, his brother, have done such a thing?
Taking a steadying breath, Obi-Wan attempted to calm himself. There would be no sense in confronting his former pupil in this state. Whoever said to fight fire with fire must never have visited Mustafar.
When he thought he'd given them enough of a head start that he wouldn't be detected before landing, Obi-Wan took off after them, gritting his teeth against the pain of what he was about to do.
But, after all, the Anakin he had loved was gone. Destroying Darth Vader would put an end to the man who had truly killed his brother. That had to be enough.
The flames within him extinguished suddenly, smothered by a familiar, equally dangerous emotion. The icy crystals of a determined ache for vengeance.
"I thought we were heading for Naboo?" Padme asked, only now noticing the coordinates her husband had entered.
"We're making another stop first." He replied curtly.
Realizing his unnecessary sharpness, he cursed himself inwardly.
The newfound darkness within him lashed out seemingly at random, a coiled viper ready to strike anyone in its path. Glancing over his shoulder, Vader saw his wife staring pointedly away from him, trembling.
He hastily punched the final sequence and stomped out of the cockpit as the ship jumped into hyperdrive.
Pacing in the common area, he brooded. How would he ever make her see his point of view by behaving in this way? Surely the Dark Side of the Force could be tamed over time, right? The newfound flames surging through him merely needed to be harnessed.
Yes, that's it. The simpleton Jedi would have made him suppress his fury, but now he would learn to use it to his advantage. In the meantime, however, loosening the reigns had clearly let his passions run wild.
Frustrated and confused, he kicked in a metal panel on the wall, which squealed horribly as it bent around his heavy, black boot.
With some of his steam blown off at the expense of the ship's interior, he then found himself rummaging through the ship's storage, searching for a blanket. She had been trembling. She was likely cold after leaving the fires of Mustafar.
As soon as he placed hands on a thick, brown bantha wool blanket, he hurried back to the front of the ship, only to find his lovely wife in tears.
"We came from a warm planet," He paraphrased her words from so long ago, placing the blanket gently across her shoulders. "Space is cold."
Padmé sniffled a little and gratefully pulled it tighter around her. Vader sunk to his knees, and searched her face, pleadingly.
"I apologize for my sharpness." He mumbled, unsure whether regret was an allowable emotion in his new philosophy. "Please don't cry, my Angel."
"Oh!" She blushed and hurriedly wiped back her tears on a scratchy corner of the blanket. "Uh no, that's not why - I'm not crying because of...I just... it's probably hormonal. You know, from the pregnancy"
She couldn't let on that he affected her so deeply. In truth, she feared him more than she ever had before. Though his temper had often proved unpredictable, she had never thought him a danger to herself. But his willingness to slaughter innocents - Jedi, children, and who knows how many others - was no one off-limits?
As he knelt by her side and held her hand in his, he watched her eyes with distrust.
"Do not lie to me, Padmé." His voice was soft, but she heard a threat in it. "Please."
Damn his perceptiveness, sometimes! The Force really didn't fight fair.
"Thank you for the blanket," she changed the subject. "Where are we going first, then?"
"Coruscant." He stood, occupying himself with some minor aspect of the flight controls. "I have to report to back to my... master."
"Isn't Coruscant going to be swarming with Jedi? Since the...um...changes announced by The Chan-I mean-Emperor?"
"That should not be a problem." He said, shortly.
Padmé sensed his discomfort and dropped the subject. They spent the remainder of the flight in silence, for the most part.
Except once, when Padmé felt the baby kick her ribs and let out an unconscious "Oof."
"What is it? Are you hurt?" He rushed to her side in concern.
"No, I'm okay. The baby just seems to think I'm a combat training droid. It must be getting tight in there for our little one."
"It's kicking?" He asked, face lighting up. For a moment he looked like the little boy showing off his homemade Pod Racer on Tatooine. "Can I feel?"
She nodded and he pressed his hands gently on her protruding belly. Padmé felt the baby grow still for a moment, probably from sensing this new pressure around it. Soon, however, her womb practically erupted in a frenzy of fists and toes, nearly knocking the breath out of her.
"I think the baby likes you!" She laughed.
He beamed with tender pride.
But the light lasted only for a moment. And soon after he was sullen, dark, and terrifying once again.