Luke tugged forcefully on his father's cape, simultaneously drawing his attention away from making plans for the conquest of another star-system and making Vader catch him before he fell on his butt.

"What is it, Luke?" Vader asked, not without a touch of amusement in his voice.

"Me an' Leia want you to wead us a stowy."

Vader couldn't help but feel touched, and so followed his son into his and his sister's room. Leia looked expectantly up from her bed as Vader sat down on a chair situated between the two beds. Luke brought over a thin, large picture book and handed it up to his father before scrambling into his bed, and air of satisfaction and anticipation about him as he squirmed between the sheets. Vader opened the book, his gloved hands clumsy even on the thick paper. He cleared his throat and began to read. His voice was soft, hypnotic, and soothing and as he read Luke and Leia felt their eyelids grow heavy and each was asleep long before Vader had reached the end. He smiled gently behind his glowering mask and touched Luke and Leia's foreheads, smoothing back the stray hairs on their faces. His contentment was short-lived, as sorrow and anger filled him.

'I should be able to touch them with real hands. I should be able to kiss their foreheads. They should know a human father, not...not...whatever I have become.'

He quickly stood and stalked out of the room, reigning back his emotions until he had made it outside. He finally allowed himself to experience all the emotions that were battling within him once he was safely away from his family. Hatred towards Obi-Wan for having destroyed his human body, anger at the Emperor for not allowing him to die instead of living this false existence, remorse for knowing that it was partly his fault he was this way, sadness over the fact that his children will never know what his true face is, love and protectiveness over his children sleeping inside the house, the need to protect them from the Emperor...and from himself. He felt all these, and relished them, for they made him feel human inside the shell of mechanics he existed in. He took a deep breath, smiling wryly at how harsh it sounded, and for the first time in many years practiced the self-control meditation of his Jedi training. He would never harm his children. NEVER. He had already done enough harm to other's children, but, in all likelihood would continue to do harm to them. None of that mattered to him, though. They were unimportant in the scheme of things to him. As long as Luke and Leia were unharmed, he would be content, and as long as it was possible for them to be harmed, he would commit atrocities so terrible that no one would think to look on Naboo for a house in the country for the one thing that was his weakness. His family. He bared his teeth in a feral smile inside the helmet, feeling the Dark Side course through him again. He would murder to protect his family without remorse or regret. He turned, looking back at the house which held the people who mattered the most. Emperor and Master be damned. He'd keep him so occupied in his own self-importance and belief in his power that he wouldn't look twice at what his apprentice was doing.

'Let him run the galaxy, for all I care. He may think he's pulling my string, but...soon, soon, he will die. When Luke and Leia are strong, older, and trained in the Force, I will kill that son of a bitch.'

He kept himself from laughing by strength of will, and feeling a little better, turned around and walked back to the house.