A/N- Much thanks to everyone who reviewed! It really brings a smile to my face and inspires me to keep writing (secondart to my muse, of course). Oh, and I know only a little about the world of Vijun and BAst Castel except for what I have gleaned from webpages, so if anyone has any suggstions or is terribly offended, please let me know in an e-mail.

Chapter Nine

Vader paced the floor, an intense look of concentration on his face behind the mask. His cloak whirled around his black midnight form as he stalked; a predator unto prey. Or so it appeared.

He had just finished a transmission with one of his underlings, a man named Rehis. There was nothing new to report, he had said. Vader wondered if they were growing lax in his absence, and gave the man a taste of what would happen if the Dark Lord arrived to find that they had grown lazy.

Rehis had practically bent over backwards in order to show his obedience and thoroughness, up unto the point of transcribing all the records of the ships to Vader's home. Satisfied, Vader had cut the transmission, wondering about the lack of backbone and incompetence in Imperial troops.

His anger against his master had cooled, until he was able to see clearly. His anger against Sidious was not new; he had hated his master for a long time. But it was now more intense, even if he could still not see a way of toppling the Emperor off of the throne.

Since Padmé was back, all his desires for his own Empire had been reborn, stronger and more powerful. He closed his eyes, thinking of it. An Empire of theirs, forged together, would be strong and incorruptible, surpassing even what the Emperor had managed. And he would have revenge against the old man for all of his scheming.

And then, maybe, she could accept him; begin to love him again… His mind wandered, thinking about a shared future with her, days full of love, her completing the gap in his soul, renewing him and filling him as he once had been. He longed for her love, needed it. The ache had always been there; it had simply been intensified by her presence.

Vader brought himself firmly back to reality, to the world in which he inhabited, where everything was seen through a sharp, unreal parody of the world. She loathed him; that was certain.

He could see it in the way she glared at him, eyes filling with unspoken hatred and accusations. He could see it in the way she refused his touch, even to assist her in all her injuries. It burned him, making him almost tremble with emotion. Part of him knew he deserved it and more; part of him hated what he had become, and the fact that he was scheming once she was near him again made him feel disgust, even as his mind raced towards the future. He quickly repressed that part, knowing that it was a simple weakness and that such weaknesses were a rot that, if allowed to fester, could bring damnation on him.

Something would have to be done, he mused. Something that Anakin would have done, to reassure her, to comfort her fears. The analytical part of his mind was already coming up with solutions, presenting them one by one. The part of him that loved Padmé, that could not bear to live without her, already knew what it would be.

He stopped his pacing in mid-stride as he realized what he would do. It was perfect, and would assuage her pain, pain that he felt even now. He wanted her, loved her with everything that was in him. His love was almost painful in its intensity, love that had been rekindled by a simple breath of life. Her pain was a constant source of agony to him, and he wanted to take it away in any way he could, to rescue her, to save her in hopes that she might be able to save him. He walked away; down the corridors of the place that reflected his mind to find start his preparations.

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Padmé heard a knock on her door, disrupting her from her quiet thinking as she stared out into the dim sky. She opened the dark wood to see a protocol droid, encased in simple silver. She thought of Threepio, and her heart ached.

She noticed that the droid was carrying a plate full of food, which she noted carried all her favorite dishes. She was tempted to send it back as a sign of rebelliousness, but she soon realized that she was far too hungry and weak to refuse a meal.

Before the droid could speak an unnecessary explanation, she took the food and limped over to her bed, where she set it down. She came back to the doorway and stared at the droid, hoping that it would understand to leave. She had no such luck.

"Good Evening, my lady. I am D-9HP, and have been instructed to serve as your personal servant. I have many useful functions, including…" The robot's voice was a female voice, impassive and cool. She realized that it had not been programmed with any sort of personality like Threepio, and that it did not have any of the droid's occasionally irritating but sometimes heartwarming personality.

She spoke aloud, interrupting the droid's bland list of functions.

"He was not courageous enough to face me for dinner, I see."

The droid stepped back a little. She pushed herself off of the wall, a gesture that would have been more convincing if it did not cause her to wince in pain.

The droid seemed to recover itself as it continued on.

"Lord Vader requests your presence in his quarters in two hours, my lady. I will be back to lead you there."

The droid turned and clattered down the hallway in an effortless shifting of gears, making no noise as it passed. Padmé felt as if she was in a house of wraiths and shadows that twisted around her, mocking her and beguiling her at every turn.

She went and sat down on the bed, slowly picking up an odd-looking fruit and eating it, but her mind was far away, already anticipating what was to happen later that evening with a sense of inexorable dread.