Title: Anniversaries of the Heart – Chapter Two
Author: rhonderoo
Rating: PG
Pairing: Anakin/Padmé (flashbacks), Vader (Angst), OC
Type: Intertrilogy (Post ESB)
Genre: Angst, Drama
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, and and no money is
being made on this story.
Chapter Two
Twisted spires of obsidian punctured the bleak, gray skies of Vjun. Their irreverence to the heavens betrayed the ambiance of the planet. Vjun was not known for its welcome to travelers. Above the gray shadows and pointed tips of castle turrets, the atmosphere wove a tapestry of deep russet, purple and red.
Below the thick, damp blanket of air, a swirling snow was falling slowly as Darth Vader disembarked from the shuttle on the landing pad of Bast Castle, his personal residence away from the capital. It cast a shadowy, dreary pall over everything, making it hard to see the way to the entrance of the castle. How fitting, he thought ominously. Things were beginning to change, just as they had in the dying breaths of the Old Republic, and the uneasy murkiness gathered heavier with each passing day. The landing pad door hissed behind him as he disappeared into the castle.
There are few choices in life if you are a girl child born to the untitled on Vjun: Administrative maid of a titled household or personal maiden of a titled household are two of the most prominent and prized. The difference, Myr's Mum had told her, was how the Lord of the Castle treated you and what he asked of you. Myr considered herself lucky enough to have been chosen for the better role of administrative maid of the household, she guessed, as her Lord had never said one way or the other, but asked nothing of her but to keep out any prying eyes while he was away and to keep things in order – and to keep out of his way when he was on the property, unless called for.
She assumed she wasn't wanted for the role of personal maiden because of her somewhat plain looks. She wasn't ugly, nor was she breathtakingly lovely. She just was. Her dark brown hair hung in waves down her back when it wasn't pinned in her bun, and her soft brown eyes complemented her light olive skin. When she did have to consult with Lord Vader, she only had to humanize the mask he wore when outside his personal sleeping chambers. She had stood before him unflinchingly when she had interviewed for the job. She was sure it had been to her advantage.
He always arrived at a moment's notice and the other servants would retreat to the safer, unseen duties, clamoring to remain invisible. She never knew what mood he would be suffering from, although she suspected he saved his more volatile moments for Imperial Center. She had long ago deduced that he came to Bast when he wished to be alone, to escape from whatever haunted his dreams so fiercely. He never seemed to escape them, though, from what she could tell. He would never know that she sometimes heard him in the night, pacing away his demons. It would be her death as sure as the winters were cold on this cursed planet.
The comm chimes rang, signaling that Lord Vader was being escorted from the hangar and smoothing the folds of her dress as she went, Myr hurried to welcome him home. She met her Lord at the foyer entrance and bowed, ready to take anything that was needed from the shuttle captain. A footman droid stood beside her, its servos whirring patiently as they awaited their instructions.
The captain handed the droid the small business case, and bowed to Myr. He then turned and saluted Lord Vader crisply and left Myr standing with the hulking figure of the Darth Vader alone. He waited expectantly and Myr almost forgot herself. "I'm so sorry, my lord. Your room awaits your arrival," she said with another small curtsy. "Would you like your case taken to your study?"
"No," the baritone voice resonated in the black marble foyer. "You may have the droid take it to my personal chambers. I will be there for most of my stay." He inclined his head slightly and moved past Myr to go up to his chambers. She gave him a wide berth and sent the droid upstairs.
The planet of Vjun had always attracted the Sith. Dark energy on the planet drew those that were brave enough to command the darkness to it like flimstys to honey. Most inhabitants of Vjun were slightly force-sensitive, herself included. It was passed on through generations. In old times, some of the most powerful force-users ever had come from this planet of acid rain and damp clouds.
Her home had always been volatile, but it had been increasingly so in the last few generations. The last Dark Lord on the planet before her master was Count Dooku, who had taken a manor formerly occupied by the Viscount Malreaux. The Viscount had died of the madness that had infected everyone at that time of her planet's history. Many attributed that madness to the darkness that surrounded the planet during the Clone Wars. Dooku had later died for the atrocities that he had committed, and rumors abounded that it was Darth Vader who had killed him, but no records were ever made public.
For all of the terror he struck on other worlds, Lord Vader seemed to have a calming effect on the planet of Vjun, according to those who had lived through the dark times. As ironic as it was, life seemed more balanced since his arrival over two decades ago. Their culture was not flourishing by any means, but the madness and murder had stopped the minute he had stepped planet side and claimed the high cliffs of Bast for his own. Unlike Dooku, he was a man of very few words and intensely private. He had only asked for an administrative attendant and a handful of servants to keep the droids maintained and the castle up while he was away on the Executor, his Imperial Star Destroyer or at his residence at the capital.
Winters on Vjun were especially harsh as the acid rain turned to sleet and snow. The skies took on a gray hue and the darkness made the castles and manors seem even more malevolent. The snow this season had been pleasantly surprising. Even though gloom still permeated the atmosphere, the snowflakes were fat and swirled in the air like tiny crystal performers in a strange ballet. It was beautiful, Myr thought as she settled into the chair by the fireplace in the large study. She allowed herself a moment of relaxation. She had tidied the study and prepared it for anything her lord might need, which wasn't much. He rarely stayed in the study when he was there. He seemed to have bought the whole castle for his private chambers.
It occurred to Myr that she probably knew more about his personal habits than anyone, and that was an intriguing but frightening thought. She had taken the position knowing that becoming intimately acquainted with the personal matters of Darth Vader, Dark Lord of the Sith meant that she could never leave this position. She knew he was human under the strange armor somewhere. He also had quirks that were very human. She knew these quirks could not be integrated into a droid or highly intelligent cyborg – strange idiosyncrasies like placing his lightsaber where it could be reached within an inch of his person, as if he could never replace it with another. He rarely ate or slept and he could often be found pacing restlessly and brooding out a viewport. The latter was something he seemed to do almost as a manner of existing.
He also had nightmares. As one who was familiar with the curse of nightmares, she had suffered from them herself, she knew the sounds one made after the lengthy silence of sleep. The abruptness of footfalls as one fought their way out of the black hole of a nightmare. Her nightmares had gone away as she got older. She would have allowed herself to pity her master, if she had not been of the opinion that he neither wanted nor needed pity from anyone. In fact, it was probably viewed as a very grave transgression.
Returning her thoughts to her surroundings, she allowed her eyes to wander over the various items on bookshelves and credenzas. Everything efficient and boring, she grimaced. Books or data tables on designed tactical flight patterns of various ships, or other such bone-jarringly monotonous subjects. She moved her fingers over each absently. Her hand stopped suddenly when it fell on a larger leather case the size of an extremely large book. She pulled the case out and opened it slowly, revealing a snow globe nestled in velvet padding shaped to conform to the design of the object. A beautiful castle like she had never seen stood in the middle of the three-dimensional landscape inside the globe. It was a pinkish brown color with rounded turrets of green. There was a fountain in the center of the tiny courtyard and if you turned the orb, a beautiful snowfall would whirl in the "atmosphere" and a magical, tinkling music would play. The music had a heartbreakingly sad quality about it. She righted the orb swiftly before the music could be heard.
Myr was entranced. She would never in a million years have expected to run across something so breathtaking in the items belonging to Lord Vader. Beyond that, she would never have expected him to have something so personal out in the open. So to speak, she said to herself. It wasn't really out in the open. It had been semi-hidden, Myr reminded herself. She turned the case to put the globe back inside before she was caught and made very sorry she was sure, when a small folded piece of flimsiplast fell to the marble tiled floor. She bent to pick it up and started to tuck it back where it came from when her curiosity got the better of her.
She opened the letter to reveal neat, florid handwriting. Her breath caught in her chest as she read the words on the flimsiplast. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew this to be very dangerous, but the words were so unexpected and seemed so unreal, that she had to fight to keep from reading them aloud.
My Dearest Anakin,
It is with a heavy heart that I receive the news that you won't be able to come home for the holidays. Naboo doesn't feel like home without you now, my husband. I will miss your arms being around me as I wake on Feté morning and your breath in my hair as you sleep. I am sending you this so that you can at least see the beauty of Theed in a Feté snowfall, and know I am thinking of you always. Please be careful, Ani. I will pray for the end of this war diligently. Come home to me soon.
I love you always,
Padmé
Myr reverently folded the flimsiplast and tucked it back into its hiding place between the velvet padding and the edge of the case. Her heart beat out a tattoo as she tried to hurry and hide the evidence of her curiosity.
Who was Anakin? Was he one of the Jedi that had earned Darth Vader his reputation? And why would Lord Vader hold onto something like this that belonged to the fallen Jedi? Why would he care? He didn't seem the type to keep trophies of those he had…bested.
Stop, Myr chastised herself. She knew she should just put the globe back and forget that she saw any of this, but she loved a good mystery and her life here sometimes got a bit mundane. Lord Vader was gone for months on end and there was precious little in the castle to occupy her time. She chewed her lip and then hesitantly put the leather case back on the shelf. Odd how the castle was still eerily quiet even with Lord Vader in residence, she thought as picked up her dust cloth and left the room. Just who exactly are you really, Lord Vader? She decided then and there that she would find out, even if it killed her.
To be continued…