Chapter 3: Tenebris Consilia

The time for rest will soon be over, Lord Vader. As our illustrious Empire continues to grow, so too do its adversaries. Adversaries and idealists that insist on spreading malicious and ill-informed rumours amongst our loyal subjects. Rumours, that could prove to be damaging if they procured enough interest.

In light of these rumours, I have decided to hold a Session of Congress in seven days' time, to address this mindless gossip. All Senate Representatives are expected to be present.

Attendance is Mandatory.

Which leads me to the purpose for my messaging you, my young Apprentice. As your beloved little wife is the official Senator for Naboo, she too, will be required to attend. Now I anticipate that you will disagree with me on this matter, and that is understandable. However, you must put your personal and possessive feelings aside, and focus on the grand picture for the good of our Empire.

I will contact you on a more intimate level shortly, my boy. I am most eager to hear how you have been settling in, in your newly acquired surroundings.

S.

Vader gently, and purposefully laid the datapad down on the command desk. It had been just over three weeks since he'd last spoken to his Master. That wasn't to say that they hadn't made contact during that time, only that it was through other, more personal means. Vader had frequently reached out through the Force, across Star Systems and planets, across time itself, and touched the mind of his Master. And Darth Sidious, the Emperor, his Sith Lord mentor, had often done likewise. The two dark-siders were connected in the Force; sharing a spiritual bond forged through blood, tragedy, deception and betrayal. A bond that had started many years earlier, at a time when Vader was but an impressionable and naive young boy. A time when he had been catapulted into a new life, a life filled with promises of adventure and power. The life of a Jedi.

As a slave boy with no father, Vader – Anakin as he was known then – had looked up to this warm-hearted and charming old man, basking in his free-flowing, comforting words of praise and compassion. And in the absence of his mother, he'd looked up to him like a father – the father he'd never had.

Chancellor Palpatine – the well-groomed political figurehead of the Galactic Republic – already so powerful that many years ago; had unbeknownst to both Vader himself, and the rest of the beings that inhabited the galaxy, concealed his true power. Hidden it. Along with his true identity and purpose.

Hidden it so skilfully, so deceptively perfect, that not one, not even one of the many highly attuned Jedi Masters that resided in the acclaimed Jedi Temple had noticed. That was, until the day he finally revealed himself. Appealing to the emotionally unstable and disenfranchised young Anakin. Offering him promises of knowledge and power, in exchange for his fealty. And, Anakin, like a drowning man, desperately searching for a way to save his wife from his visions, had reluctantly accepted.

And so, out of anguish and despair, Darth Vader was born. The Jedi fell. A Republic became an Empire. And the once charming, warm-hearted, father figure; Chancellor Palpatine ... became Emperor Palpatine.

Vader clenched his hands. Digging his fingers into the cold, hard leather of his gloves. Times, like people, change. Agendas shift and motivations alter course. Although completely and resolutely aligned with the Sith, the young Dark Lord had once again become disenchanted, this time with his Master. Over the short time since being reunited with his wife and children, Vader's own motivations had in-fact altered course. Reverting back to those of the newly anointed Sith Lord that he had once been at his turn.

He would overthrow his Master.

Take their Empire for himself, and rule with his wife and children at his side. As it was always meant to be.

It was his destiny.

The final tenet of the ancient Sith Code echoed in his mind: And through victory, my chains are broken.

And his chains would indeed be broken. He would have victory. Failure was a sign of weakness ... and he was not weak.

Weakness was unacceptable.

Grinding his teeth, Vader shoved away from the desk. He turned toward the window, only to be greeted by the discerning stare of his former Jedi Master, Obi-wan Kenobi. Perched on one of the two recliners by the glass doors, the auburn-haired man leant forward, stroking his beard. His steel grey eyes seemed to penetrate the obscuring thick lenses of his mask. He'd forgotten his being present, and now he suddenly felt naked. Exposed. Something his suit normally managed to protect him from.

But not from him.

Like the Emperor, Kenobi too, shared a Force bond with the young Dark Lord. One, equally as powerful, but forged through very different circumstances. Being his first Master, after his being granted permission by the Jedi Council to train him, Vader and Kenobi had developed what some had considered to be an unhealthy attachment to each other. A bond so strong, so unbreakable, that they had become more like brothers, than Master and Padawan.

Or so it had seemed.

That had all changed when Vader defected to the Sith. Destroying the Temple and personally slaughtering all Jedi who remained there. When finally confronted by Kenobi on Mustafar, after he had secretly stowed away in his wife's ship, Vader had given him one final opportunity to walk away. To leave and disappear, an offer he had simply made out of respect for their relationship.

But his former Master had refused, and they had gone head-to-head. Battling each other in both grief and anger. Their bodies and lightsabers clashing violently across the scorched planet's treacherous terrain ... until Vader fell to his Master's blade. Too blind, too power-drunk, too stupid, too angry, too lost to listen to the broken Jedi's final warning.

His hate had flowed unabated from that fateful and horrific humiliation. Leaving him forever scarred, deformed and limited. Crippled and bound to the steel-cold chains of his new Sith Master. Constantly reminded of his failure, with every augmented rasp of his respirator.

Up until recently he had been determined to kill him. To hunt his former Master and brother down and exact his revenge. But, things between them had now changed. The hate had transformed into something, he as of yet, couldn't put words to.

He almost trusted him. No, not almost ... he did trust him. But it was a different kind of trust. A trust based on the gentleman's agreement, that if Vader somehow failed in his mission to overthrow his Master, Kenobi would run with his family, whisking them off to somewhere safe and far away in order to protect them.

To the Dark Lord, nothing meant more, than the safety and well-being of his family. Not power, not his Master, not even the Empire.

And so, in making this promise, Obi-wan had inherently earned his trust.

Walking to the glass doors, Vader stopped and silently stared at the cityscape. The morning sun, not something frequently witnessed on Dromund Kaas, gleamed over the wet sheen of the towering grey duracrete and transparisteel of Kaas City's buildings and structures. It was strikingly beautiful, in an industrialised and powerful sort of way. He felt the older Jedi's gaze still fixed on him, his eyes practically boring holes into his cloaked back.

"He has contacted you then?" Kenobi asked quietly.

Vader folded his arms and sighed, his distant stare fixed on the view. "Yes."

"And?"

"He has called for a Senate meeting to be held in seven days time."

"Well, that is hardly anything unusual," the Jedi said from his seat.

"No... it is not," he muttered. Except that his Master had demanded his own wife be in attendance. That was the part that was unusual ... and unsettling.

"So why are you allowing yourself to get worked up over it? I felt your anger spike the very instant you picked up that datapad."

As he'd expected, Kenobi had been feeling out for him. Listening along their bond to his shifting presence in the Force. "If my frame of mind bothers you so much, then perhaps you should try staying out of it."

"I don't think so. You know how I like to study things I find fascinating. Besides, how many Jedi have the opportunity to exist this close to a Sith Lord and live to learn from it?"

"That answer can easily be changed to none."

"Possibly ... but I wouldn't go so far as to say easily," Obi-wan quipped with a chuckle. "As we stand now, I'd hazard a guess that we'd be sitting about even."

Vader snorted. "Keep telling yourself that." He wasn't in the mood for useless bantering, not at present.

"So, are you going to tell me what's bothering you? Or should I put my robe back on to try and ward off the sudden and uncomfortable chill in here?"

A strangled and exasperated sigh escaped his vocoder. "Palpatine has demanded that Padmè be present for the meeting," he growled, dropping his arms and balling his gloved hands into fists. "He is moving to separate us."

"I see." The recliner noisily clunked back into position, followed by the gentle rustling of heavy Jedi robes. Obi-wan walked up then stopped beside him, folding his arms and following his line of sight through the glass. "Does Padmè know this?" he asked, his voice hushed somewhat.

"I have not seen her yet, to ask." Vader shifted slightly, so he could clearly see his face through the mask.

"She shouldn't be too much longer, I wouldn't think. That physician of yours has been in there with her for at least an hour now."

The Sith bristled at that. "Aleria is in there?" he demanded. "Why? She seemed fine earlier. Is something wrong?"

Obi-wan shrugged. "I'm sure it's nothing. It's probably just a check up."

He growled and turned back to the window. Perhaps he was being paranoid. He hadn't experienced any visions concerning her yet, but there was still time. Now that he'd thought of it, he hadn't really had many visions at all. Had he suddenly lost that ability too?

The sound of a door opening interrupted his thoughts and he quickly turned in place. The red-headed doctor was the first to emerge, her long hair neatly twisted into a bun. She was smiling too, which was a relief. He had made the right decision when sparing her life, one that had already started to pay itself off. With her medical skills extending to include enhanced cybernetics, she was an asset he was most interested in keeping around. As a welcome bonus, it also seemed as though his wife had come to appreciate her company. Good. At least she had another female she could talk to – one who wasn't actively trying to convince her into leaving him.

"You are in perfect health, My Lady," she said, walking out from their bedroom. "If any of your symptoms worsen, call me straight away. I do have some medications on hand that may assist you."

His wife followed her through the door, and he immediately started toward her. Padmè looked tired, her wavy chestnut curls draped loosely over her shoulders, and she was still dressed in her pastel blue nightgown.

"Thank you, Aleria. I appreciate you taking the time to see me," she said, carrying her datapad into the main chamber.

The two women stopped in the middle of the room, and Vader moved to join them.

"As I said, anything for you, Lady Vader," the doctor said with a smile.

Her eyes fell on the Sith Lord now standing protectively at his wife's side. "As for yourself, My Lord, I believe your check-up and maintenance session is well overdue."

As if he needed reminding. Without a bacta tank or hyperbaric chamber at his disposal, he was relying on meditation to try and heal his battered remains. Much to his bitter disappointment, he wasn't having a great deal of success.

"I am aware, Doctor," he said, putting his arm around his wife's shoulder. "But it will have to wait until later. I currently have other, more pressing matters to attend to."

The comment earned him a scolding glare from his wife. It was comforting to know she still cared for his health. What little he had left of it, anyway.

"This afternoon then?" she pressed.

He rolled his eyes behind the mask.

"That will suit him just fine, Aleria," Padmè interjected before he could argue any further. "Thank you."

The redhead nodded and took her leave. Turning to his wife, Vader stared into her weary hazel eyes and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. "Is everything alright, My Love?"

She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Yes. I just felt a little off when I woke up, that's all."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Not really," she said, taking his hand and entwining their fingers together. She smiled again, this time staring up into his mask and drawing his hand to rest over her stomach. "This little one doesn't seem to appreciate food the way his brother and sister did."

He smiled, not that she could see it. But he knew she could tell how he felt. Even without being Force sensitive, Padmè could often pick up on his emotions. "You are still convinced it is a boy then?" he asked, gently caressing the small bump.

"Oh, I am sure of it," she said, watching his hand.

He chuckled. "And, I am sure that ... she ... is a girl."

Padmè laughed. As she did, a strange sensation flickered between them. Like a soft feather tickling across the palm of his hand. He took his glove off and dropped to one knee, placing his flesh and blood hand back on her stomach. Closing his eyes, he stretched out with the Force.

Energy churned inside her, seeming to grow stronger under his attention. It was different from her previous pregnancy, more volatile and difficult to settle. He cast out a wave of calm in an effort to soothe it. It was rebounded. Then the energy morphed again – angry, surging. Twisting like a rolling storm cloud readying to drop its deluge.

"You had best move now, Angel," he said, pulling his hand away and tilting his helmeted head up to look at her. "Or you may not make it in time."

A puzzled look swept over her face. "What makes you say..." she began to ask, her question interrupted by a sudden gasp. Clapping her hand to her mouth, she quickly dropped her datapad and ran back into their bedroom.

Vader picked up the discarded device and went to follow her. He waited by the bed, listening to the strange sounds coming from the fresher. Her stomach was purging itself again. Had he made things worse in trying to help her? Was this the Force's way of rejecting the Dark Side lingering in his touch?

The noises continued. He placed the datapad on the bed and sat beside it. How was she going to cope with the Senate meeting while suffering like this? She was a strong woman, but everyone had their limit. He hadn't asked her about the message and she hadn't said anything, but the way she'd carried her datapad out with her, told him that she knew about the upcoming meeting.

Like this, she was vulnerable. And he didn't like it.

He could just imagine it now. Padmè suddenly rushing away from the meeting, hurrying to the fresher to avoid embarrassment. A shadowy cloaked figure following closely behind her. Waiting for her to exit, like a rancor sizing up its next meal. Then swooping in, the very moment she stepped out, offering false words of concern and luring her back to the palace.

No. He rose to his feet and started to pace. She wasn't going alone; he wouldn't allow it. He wouldn't give his Master such an opportunity.

The fresher door opened and Padmè walked out, her skin pale. He spun to face her, trying to quell his sudden and rising frustration.

"What's wrong, Ani?" she asked.

She had noticed his unease. "I am worried about you," he said.

"Why? You heard Aleria, this is normal. Morning sickness is hardly uncommon."

He stiffened and crossed his arms. "I do not want you returning to Coruscant in this state. It is not safe."

"Oh. So that's what this is all about," she said, waving at his rigid posture as if it were evidence.

"Yes."

She shook her head and walked up to him. "You know I have to go," she said, rubbing his tightly folded arms.

Of course, he knew she had to go, but it didn't mean he had to leave her go alone. It hadn't taken long for him to come up with a solution to them being seen together. "Let me escort you there. We can go together. That way my armada can–"

She shook her head at him again. "No, you can't. You already know this. I have to go on my own, or they will suspect us."

Vader snorted. "I can. I can arrange for my fleet to drop out of hyperspace early, allowing for you to enter orbit alone."

But she wasn't having any of it. There was no way Organa and his little band of insurgents, was going to be able to detect the connection between his ships and hers if they approached from different vectors. Then what was the problem? The plan was solid, and most importantly she would be protected.

"No. Besides, you have already hand-picked my crew from your Officers. I won't be unprotected."

He huffed and turned away, fighting the urge to pace around the room. Why was she doing this? She knew his Officers couldn't protect her the way he could. They would be no match for his Master. But if he was with her, Palpatine wouldn't try anything. "That is not the same, and you know it, Padmè."

"Well then, I guess that you are just going to have to trust me."

What? How could she possibly turn his wanting to keep her safe into him not trusting her? Had he not bought her, her very own ship? The Nubian cruiser she'd wanted, like he'd said he would? Did that itself not show that he trusted her? He whirled in place, stabbing at the air with his finger. "This isn't about trust," he growled through his teeth.

"Isn't it?" she asked, matching his growing annoyance with her own. She propped her hands on her hips, staring back at him with fire in her eyes.

"No," he said, matter-of-factly.

"It sure feels like it. I can look out for myself, Anakin. I've managed perfectly fine before."

"But you are pregnant!" Why was she fighting him on this? Why couldn't she just listen to him? Could she not see that he was concerned for her?

"Yes. Just like I was for all those long months while you and Obi-wan were off fighting in the sieges. I coped perfectly fine then."

Vader stepped back, stunned and hurt. That wasn't fair. He would have done anything to end the fighting and come home to her back then. Just keeping in contact with her had been a battle in itself, having to convince Rex to cover for him as he disappeared into the barracks to call her.

He turned away and dropped his head. "You make it sound as if I had a choice." His heart suddenly pounded in his chest, banging against his ribcage like a wild beast trying to escape. He spun around, gritting his teeth.

"Anakin, I'm..." she whispered, reaching out for him. "I didn't mean to..."

He thrust his finger at her. "No. You want to go on your own, then go ahead! I have given up trying to argue with you."

With that, he turned and charged from the bedroom ... ignoring the questioning glance from the Jedi by the window ... ignoring his wife's pleas for him to wait and talk to her ... ignoring everything.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Thank you for your follows/favourites/reviews.

I am working on a Fortnightly update schedule due to work and family commitments. But if I manage to get a chapter finished and edited earlier, it will be released sooner.

As always, I welcome all feedback and am constantly looking for ways to improve my writing style. If you have any ideas/suggestions feel free to PM me and I will respond to them as soon as I can.

I hope you enjoy.

MTFBWY