Disclaimer: F it, i'm not even going to bother with one.
Hey all, I'm back. Thanks for the feedback.There are only a couple of chapters to go, and this is where the Sith hits the fan...
Part XII
Their plan, or lack thereof, was not as successful as they had intended for it to be. In fact, it was a disaster. Somehow, stealthy as they'd been, they had been detected and surrounded within minutes of their entrance. As they were escorted to wherever they were going – detention block, probably – Leia broke the silence to lighten the mood, though it had no effect on the feeling of dread that hung in the air around them.
"You know what? Next time, I'll do the planning." Mara snorted.
"What planning?"
"Exactly what I had in mind."
"I hate to disappoint you, princess, but I don't think there will be a next time."
It seemed that Mara was right, because shortly after they arrived at the entrance of what Leia assumed was the Emperor's throne room. She would have given anything to instead be brought to a detention cell. The last thing she wanted was to face a Sith Lord – that would be certain death or something infinitely worse.
"Look on the bright side. At least Vader's not in there…" Bright side indeed. She would have gladly taken Vader over Palpatine. The two of them fell silent as they were brought into a dim, spacious stone hall before the despot himself, imposing if withered and frail-looking.
"Welcome, Princess Organa, Miss Jade," He rasped. Then, turning to his traitorous servant, "I see the mission was successful, although you seem to have gotten sidetracked…" Mara Jade said nothing.
"Nevertheless, the two of you will be very helpful in the turning of Young Skywalker." Mara snorted in contempt. Leia's eyes blazed with fury.
"I will sooner die than help you." The dark ruler simply smiled, almost patronizing.
"I know you will, Young One, I know."
Leia's POV
Involuntarily, I shiver at his words. There is something chilling about them, something ominous, as if doom had just been prophesized. Dark, frigid dread fills me, and I seem to crystallize into a lifeless ice sculpture, so fragile, so easily shattered…There is something very wrong about this, more than it should be. I cannot help but foresee downfall. Not just my own, but everything. It is like a vision of the past, as if I already know the outcome, and there is nothing I can do to change it. The numbing feeling of helplessness freezes me in places.
My foreboding thoughts are broken as my suspicions are confirmed. I watch, frozen, as my brother is thrown at the despot's feet. I swallow hard and vainly try to restrain the sob as I lower my eyes upon the battered, bloody figure before me. He struggles to his feet and I almost fail to recognize him. His ripped, tattered black robe offsets his deathly pallor. He looks wasted, his face sharp and bony, but it is the eyes that frighten me.
He is dying inside. I can see it in his eyes – so hollow, so broken, so lifeless. He doesn't see me. Perhaps he does, merely not acknowledging me. He is like an empty shell. No feeling seeps from his mind, closed tightly, as if to protect it from the darkness. He must be inside. Somewhere in the depths of my own mind, I wonder if he is still there. I try to tell myself that he is not yet destroyed – he is stronger than that. Deep down I recognize the lies, the uncertainty. I can feel him drown within his own presence. I did this to him. It's all my fault.
Enter the Dark Lord. For the first time I see it as the misnomer it is. He is clearly not the lord here. Something in his stance betrays submission…he seems almost weary. I cannot see his face, but written all over it are anguished regrets. No longer blinded by hate – there is no time for dark feelings now. If I am to die, which I know I will, I shall not give in – I realize that he is not the darkness. His deeds are dark, as is his existence – there is no denying that, but it is not him. He is nothing more than its tool, its slave, fated to serve it until his end. He hides it well, but not well enough.
My mind races. My heart pounds. I find myself tensed, my muscles stiff as wires. I dimly become aware that I am holding my breath. I haven't been paying attention to what was going on. I know the Emperor is speaking, his speech sharp and gritty, like shards of steel. I can feel Luke's defiance – so he is still intact. He still holds on to the rebellion so characteristic of him. I smile inwardly. We are both to die today. I know what the Dark One wants of him. To turn or die. If I know him as well as I think I do, he will never give in. He will decease with honor. As will I.
He watches his son fight not only for his life, but for his soul. He doesn't have a name anymore, for he no longer knows his identity. He is not Darth Vader. This he knows. Darth Vader was a machine dedicated to the sole purpose of taking lives. He is not Anakin Skywalker. He can never reclaim the name, for he cannot erase the past. Twenty-one years of servitude to darkness cannot simply disappear within the blink of an eye. He will forever remain unforgiven, this he knows. He knows salvation can never be his. He knows he cannot start over with a clean slate. All he can do is try to repair what he has broken. Darth Sidious will die today – another kill to add to the parsecs-long list. But it will end his reign of terror.
His son grits out another barb. Sidious' eyes go from chips of ice to pools of molten lava. I flinch inwardly, but allow no weakness to show on the inside. My master's patience dwindles. His fury is a raging firestorm. It takes a lot to anger him. Those who do never survive to tell the story. He turns to his apprentice-to-be.
"If you will not turn…she, " Nodding at the princess, "Will be destroyed." He kills her slowly, excruciatingly. Leia Organa shrieks in agony as the Dark Side lightning pierces her to the bone. Jade watches, transfixed, as she witnesses her newfound ally's demise. And Luke…no visible reaction, though he knows that he will be the one most affected. If he will turn, this will be what triggers his fall. He fervently hopes that his son is strong enough to resist the temptation. He does not want him to walk his path – does not want his mistakes to be repeated, for they will lead to his predicament.
And then it is over. She crumples and falls to the ground beneath her. Cold and lifeless, now. Jade still stares in horror. He feels a strange emptiness within. No pain – he is far beyond such emotions. It is empty, and it is cold. It is as if something was ripped from inside the very depths of his inner core. She was a part of him. Somehow, inexplicably, she was him.
His son, on his hands and knees, eyes on the ground, is trembling. Be it grief or anger, he does not know. And then, slowly, with impossible fluidity, he rises to fall. For a moment, cerulean eyes are veiled by a flash of burning amber. As he strides forward, he impales the despot with a look of pure, undiluted loathing. NO. Don't do it…Don't do it!
His father's plea goes unheard as he further advances on the Sith Lord, summoning his lightsaber. And then, like a deadly viper, he strikes, intent on destroying his opponent. His blade is an extension of his body, the viper's fang. Sidious, caught off guard in his blind arrogance, is skewered repeatedly. The blade literally dissects him. And still, it will not stop, until nothing is left. Nothing, save tiny little particles of darkness, dispersing like ashes in the wind.
The blade is extinguished, and the green fire dies. Absolute silence falls over the throne room. Everything grows quiet, even the Force itself. As if mourning its fallen hero. He speaks, softly, gently, even…sadly, perhaps.
"It is done…Father." And still, it is deathly quiet. He starts to approach his father, but something drives him to a halt. Looking down, he shuts his eyes. A single tear trickles past a tightly shut eyelid. And, like a fragile crystal orb, it falls to the floor, shattering into a thousand shards.
Raising his gaze as he opens his eyes once more, "And now…" He stops, as if uncertain. But no. He is dead sure. A sob escapes him. And then he whispers, ever so softly...
"And now…Now you die."
A/N: Yes, shorter and eviler than the average...Sue me.