SHADOWED LIGHT
By Laura-chan
Summary: Padmé Amidala is a young Senator in the Imperial Senate; but when she's suspected of being a Rebel, the Emperor sends his most trusted servant to investigate.
Time: AU
Rating: M/R mind the rating, MAY go up.
Pairing: Vader-Anakin/Padmé
Warning: I'm Italian, not English, so please don't mind too much my mistakes.
Disclaimer: I own only the plot of this story. Characters and background situations all belong to Mister Lucas.
AN: I'm glad you liked this new story... enjoy the second chapter!
CHAPTER 2
Darth Vader was seething while controling his men's work on the main deck of his Super Star Destroyer, the Executor: he was standing in front of the reinforced windows, the galaxy spread out before him.
The Executor was directed to Coruscant, where the Emperor would interrogate the prisoner.
The prisoner.
Senator Padmé Amidala.
The Sith Lord frowned: he was hoping to have more occasions in which interrogate the Senator himself, knowing he would enjoy torturing her after her defiance.
He gritted his teeth at the thought of what happened a few hours prior in his quarters, frustation filling his being: and the crew, feeling his dark mood, stayed away from him, afraid to suffer his wrath.
And Vader could really use a good distraction, right now: the refusal of his beautiful prisoner, through not unexpected, was fresh and had stung his pride. But it had also hightened his lust for her. Her horrified look at his kiss had both made him angrier and hornier.
He wanted nothing more than seduce her now, to show her that he was worthy of someone like her, worthy of touching her pale skin, worthy of her caresses and worthy of her sighs: it had been a long time since Vader had felt unworthy of someone and he didn't like it.
The Sith cursed angrily: oh, yes, she would appreciate him in the end, she would crave the feel of him like he desired her.
How he longed to lose himself in her long, soft, curly hair, taste the sweetness of her lips again... how he wanted to be one with her!
"Lord Vader." A voice interrupted his pleasant reveries: the young Sith fixed the Admiral with a icy glare, causing the older man to gulp nervously.
"Yes, Admiral?"
"We-we," the Admiral took a deep breath and then talked without stuttering, trying to hide his fear. "We intercepted a SOS call from the Star Destroyer Avenger from the Kashyyyk system: it seems that it had been attacked by the Alliance ships along with those wretched Jedi."
"Set the coordinates for Kashyyyk: we're going to destroy that Rebel scum."
"Yes Milord." The ufficial saluted and went to carry out Vader's orders.
The Sith Lord smirked evilly at the thought of engaging battle with the Jedi; he always enjoyed their helpless look as he proceeded to destroy their ships.
He chuckled as the stars became white lines when the Executor entered hyperspace.
She was running: she didn't know where, or why, but she felt she had to escape. A dark, looming figure was towering over her, blocking her way. Agrily, she pushed it away, only to find arms closing around her, stilling her movements and freezing her insides.
She started screaming...
Padmé sit up on the bed, gasping, her hand clutching her heart: she inhaled greedly oxygen as she tried to calm her racing pulse.
"Miss Padmé?" she turned her head to the right where a droid was watching her as quizzically as he could with a impassible metal face.
"Yes 3PO?"
"Are you alright miss? Do you need something?"
Her stomach rumbled and she smiled embarassed. "Breakfast would be nice."
C-3PO, Vader's golden protocol droid, nodded and exited her bedroom; the Senator glanced around her with disgust: she couldn't believe she had fallen asleep in the quarters Vader had given her. She had been determined to stay awake just in spite of that monster... and instead she had fallen asleep -- she looked down -- in her dress.
She frowned and grudgingly decided to see if in the wardrobe there was some dress for her to put on: she opened it and was amazed by the numerous, beautiful fabrics she found inside.
Eventually Padmé wore a long, yellow dress that remembered her of one she had back on Naboo, her home planet.
Tears threatened to spill from her eyes at the memory of her beloved Naboo, her parents, her sister, her nieces, her boyfriend Palo who was going to propose to her... everything she hold dear to her heart and she would probably never see it again...
The young woman swore angrily: she cursed the Emperor, who had destroyed the Republic, and Darth Vader, for being his ass-licking laptop.
She hated them! She hated them with a passion!
The young maid Vader had assigned her, Alura was her name, entered the bedroom bringing a tray with hot tea, bread, jam and butter.
Padmé wasn't in the right mood to eat, but her stomach didn't care and growled hungrily at the sight of food.
She sighed and sat down on the bed, then she looked out of the window, noting with surprise that the ship was in hyperspace.
"Do you have any idea of where are we going?" she asked Alura.
The young woman, who was older than her, smiled. "I don't know exactly, milady, but I've heard that we're going to the Kashyyyk system."
"The Wookies' planet?" Padmé frowned, but said no more.
She wondered what Vader was doing: Kashyyyk was in the opposite direction of Coruscant, or Imperial City as it was called now. If he wanted to bring her before the Emperor why were they departing from it?
Padmé shook her, thinking angrily that she didn't really want to understand Vader: she continued to munch unhappily her breakfast.
Bail Organa, Senator and Viceroy of Alderaan, fought with himself to stop the tears from rising.
"So, she's lost now."
Captain Typho straightened his back. "Milord, you can't possibly thinking about leaving Senator Amidala---"
"My friend." Bail stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "There is nothing we can do now for Padmé: she's now in Vader's, and so in the Emperor's, clutches. We can't risk a direct attack to Vader's Super Star Destroyer." Bail's face was tired and pained. "We already lost too many Jedi because of him."
"That monster!" Dormé swore, catching the two men's attention. "Milord, you should've seen how he looked at her! So...so..." the handmaiden struggled the right word. "...so...unappropriated!"
Bail threw an alarmed stare to Typho, whom shook his head sadly, conferming the Viceroy's fears.
"Oh, Padmé!" Now Bail silently weeped.
"What? What happened to Senator Amidala?" a familiar voice asked behind him.
"Master Kenobi!" exclaimed Sabé, who had been quiet till that moment, as she ran into the startled Jedi's arms.
Obi-Wan looked at the four people in front of him, confused about what he was seeing.
"Something bad happened to Senator Amidala?"
Typho was the one to inform him. "She had been captured by Darth Vader."
Obi-Wan closed his eyes, accepting regretfully the news. "This is a very sad day indeed." He said in a broken whisper. "Very sad."
Obi-Wan Kenobi had been a friend to Senator Padmé Amidala since he and his Master, Qui-Gon Jinn, had helped her free her planet from the invasion of the Trade Federation, just a year before Palpatine's self-election as Emperor: had it passed only eleven years?
It surely felt like a hundred.
Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon had killed Palpatine's first apprentice, Darth Maul, on Naboo (even if Qui-Gon had lost his arm in the fight) and it was then that the Jedi Order had learned of the return of the Sith: when they had realized who was the Master, it had been already too late.
The Republic had crumbled and the Empire had risen, and every single Jedi had been declared an enemy of the Empire: the Jedi Order, which had served the Republic for twenty thousands years, had been banned and was now outlaw.
The Emperor and, later, Vader had sought the Jedi and many had been killed: this had been called 'The Jedi Purge'.
Few members remained of the grand Order: most Masters of the Council were still alive and also about fifty Knights. But no Padawan had escaped the Purge. And the Jedi were in the sudden need of younglings to train: it was necessary to keep the Order alive.
The Rebellion was born from the alliance of the remaining Jedi and the few Senators who still loved the Republic: Bail Organa and Padmé Amidala had been two of the founders of the Alliance.
And it had grew till it had become a threath to the Empire: more and more systems joined the Rebellion against Palpatine's rule. But the Sith Lord was still stronger.
The kidnapping of Padmé Amidala was a difficult thing to swallow: she was a charismatic leader and the people loved her. Also, she was smart and a very good strategist.
But unfortunately she had made a mistake.
'Farewell, dear friend.' Obi-Wan thought sadly.
Darth Vader coldly analyzed the situation: two Rebel Starships and a unspecified number of smaller starfighters were attacking the Avenger, which was clearly in difficulty. He scowled at the incompetence of the crew of the Stardestroyer: he would have been able to take care of that Rebel scum only with a small frigate.
"Commander." He called.
"Yes, Milord?"
"Fire at will."
"Yes sir! Fire at will!" the Commander ordered from the main deck.
Immediately, lasers blazed from the Executor's cannons: some of the slowest starfighters were destroyed, and a Rebel Starship was hit.
Vader closed his eyes and reached out with the Force, smirking as he recognized two strong auras: only two Jedi Masters? Or they were afraid of him, or the Jedi had become too few to arrange many men in an attack.
'Good.' He goated.
As he turned his back to the huge window, he ordered to the first ufficial he met on his way to prepare his ship: he grinned darkly.
'Now the fun begins.'
"Master!"
Yoda, venerable Jedi Master, turned toward the younger Aayla Secura.
"What it is, Master Secura?"
She gulped. "It's the Executor... Vader's Super Stardestroyer appeared in the middle of the battle on Kashyyyk."
The green Master's eyes grew wide.
"Alert Master Windu and Master Koon we have to."
Aayla nodded. "I've already done that: Master Windu told me not to worry... Master Yoda, I think he wants to confront Vader!"
"Foolish and desperate the Jedi had become..." Yoda shook his head, then looked risolutely at the female Jedi. "Call Master Windu."
"No, Master Yoda: I won't rethink my strategy." Mace Windu, a dark-skinned, tall Jedi, answered calmly, not looking at the hologram before him: he concentrated on the battle.
"Confront Vader, you musn't!" esclaimed Yoda impatiently. "Not now, at least."
"If we destroy Vader, the Sith Lord will lose his apprentice and his most skilled fighter: I'm going to kill him now." Mace continued tiredly. "Ten years had passed since the rise of the Sith: how much longer must we wait?" and with that he closed the communication without listening to the other Jedi's reply.
He had successfully destroyed fifteen TIE fighters by now and was rapidly increasing that number: but his senses were searching another presence, a darker, stronger one...
Mace Windu cursed as he felt too late the Force signature he had been searching for: he turned and saw Master Plo Koon engaged in a mortal battle with a particular TIE fighter. He gritted his teeth: it seemed like Vader had mocked him once again.
He fired against Vader's ship, but the Dark Lord moved quickly, and Mace's laser beam hit another TIE fighter.
The Jedi Master knew he was being careless by challenging Vader in his element: it was known all over the galaxy that the Sith Lord was probably the best starpilot out there. But on the other hand Mace wasn't known to be someone who was easily intimated.
"Master Windu, he hit me and I'm wounded." Came a slightly metallic voice from his com-link. "I have to retire." Every Jedi was now more careful about his or her life.
"Yes Master Koon, go. I'll take care of Vader."
"May the Force be with you, Master Windu."
Plo Koon left the fight, as Mace Windu and Darth Vader confronted each other.
Padmé Amidala had fallen asleep once more: when she woke up, it was the evening of the day cycle on the ship.
She yawned and stretched, before throwing a look to the window, only to stop in her tracks: outside, in the space, a battle was raging on.
She ran to the window, her hands pressing against the glass; yes, she recognized that Starship...! It was the Demiurgo. And then...yes! She could see the Peacemaker!
Padmé covered her mouth with her hands: so, that's why Vader decided to leave for Kashyyyk!
She could do nothing but observe, powerless, as Rebel starfighters continued to fall under the powerful and continuous fire of the Imperial Stardestroyers. She held back tears as her heart cried when another Rebel fighter exploded in a ball of flames.
'Go away! Go away! They will destroy you completely!' she screamed inwardly, trying to mentally warn them.
She saw two starfighters, an Imperial TIE and a Rebel ship, fight desperately, aggressively and they veered and turned, trying to hit the other: Padmé admired the skills of both the pilots, then she became suspicious.
They were moving much faster than the normal fighters in the battle...and that TIE was different from the others... she gasped.
Could it be? Was Vader battling with a Jedi?
In her heart Padmé hoped, she prayed for the Jedi to win: she waited anxiously to see the result of the fight, and was deeply disappointed and a bit afraid when she saw the Jedi starfighter fly away with smoke exiting from his reactor.
'I hope he's alright.' She thought.
The young woman continued to watch the furious battle before her eyes, when eventually she noted the Alliance's Starships slowly retreating; she shook her head, knowing the Rebellion wasn't still powerful enough to fight two Stardestroyers simultanously.
Suddenly the room became cold as an arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her back to a strong body, shocking her into silence.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" a voice murmured in her ear, sending horrified and delighted (why delighted?) shivers down her spine.
Her shoulders stiffened. "I don't see anything beautiful: but we already know we have very different points of view."
A rumble of laughter shook Vader's body, who was in a gleeful mood after making the Jedi retreat with his tail between his legs.
"Do you always have to answer back, milady?" he made the title sound like a vulgar remark. He swept her curly hair on one side and began kissing and licking her neck and shoulder, enjoying her outraged gasp.
Padmé was divided in two: a part of her wanted to melt back into him and his pleasuring ministrations, but the larger part of her soul recoiled at Vader's touch.
"Don't touch me!" she exclaimed, trying to escape the circle of his arms, but he held the young woman tightly, not wanting to let go. Then, a scream left her parted lips, eyes widening, as she felt teeth penetrating the soft skin of her shoulder.
"What are you doing?" she almost cried, trying to turn to maim the man behind her.
"I won't have none of that 'don't touch me' crap, understood?" Vader answered her in dark tone: his hands slowly caressed her stomach and the underside of her breasts, pulling her to him so that they seemed almost fused together.
And pressed like that against the Dark Lord, the Senator couldn't ignore his body; his hard excitement pushed against her and suddenly Padmé realized she was in danger: not only because he was stronger than her and could efficiently force himslef on her... not that he needed to.
Because she was excited too.
What was happening to her? She thought disgusted and confused. Had she no morals at all? This man was a tyrant and a mass murderer, how could she allow him to do these kinds of things to her?
And so why was she fascinated by him?
She was used to be around politicians that had admired and, yes, lusted after her also: but they had always treated her like fine glass, with the respect she deserved.
But Padmé had never met someone like him.
Vader was very straightforward, crude, cruel and harsh if he wanted to be... and he was so very handsome, gorgeous even, with those azure eyes of his pierced her soul, searching for something she didn't know of...
He was so different from the other men she was used to know that she didn't know exactly how to behave.
Padmé was abruptly shaken out of her reveries by a hand raising her dress and diving inside, touching her most secret place. She gasped and unwillingly moaned as a feeling never experienced before took possession of her lower belly.
'What is he doing to me?' she wondered once again.
"You like it, don't you?" long fingers caressed her gently, as his voice whispered sensually. "No one ever touched you like this: you're always so distant, so high... so untouchable. Men want you, but you scare them again with your icy behaviour." Vader smirked.
"But not this man." He nipped softly her lobe, "Now I'm going to show you that you're not only a politician, but also a woman... a very real and solid woman." His fingers continued to pleasure her, as his other hand squeezed roughtly her breast possessively.
"And you are mine."
Padmé whimpered as his ministrations became harder and more obsessive.
"You are mine, do you understand?" Vader's voice was now clipped and harsh, his pulse quickening, his mouth fastening on the side of her neck.
"Do you understand?"
It was clear that he wasn't going to relent until she gave him the answer he wanted so much: Padmé's mind was dizzy, she could only hear their ragged breaths and she found herself completely helpless against the Sith Lord's assault. A soft, seductive whisper in her head suggested her the right answer and she couldn't help but obey it.
"Yes..." she said breathlessly. "...Yours..."
And, as he had promised, he showed her that she belonged to him: right there, against the wall.
As outside, in the space, raged on the battle between Empire and Rebellion, Padmé Amidala – Senator of Naboo – lost herself to the Dark Lord of the Sith.
Long, dark lashes falling on rosy-hued cheeks.
Full, red parted lips.
Deep, calm breath.
Delicate fingers resting near her face.
Soft-looking and full breast.
Petite waist.
Dark curls covering the sweetest place of the galaxy.
Long, slender legs.
Padmé Amidala was absolutely breath-taking.
And now that she was his, he was never going to let her go.
Darth Vader caressed gently her curves, marvelling at her beauty, a deep satisfaction filling his being: he was now totally sated.
After having taken the young woman now resting beside him against the window of her room (and even he admitted he had been quite a risk), he had led (or brought?) her to her bed, where he had proceeded to discover every single part of her body: a body he now owned.
Vader had loved her innocent displays and unrestrained reactions, and had found quite endearing her furious blushes everytime he did something that embarassed her: everytime he had entered her warm flesh, he had felt both strong ownership, pride and a feeling experienced so long time ago he had almost forgotten it could exist -- joy.
After numerous love-makings Padmé had falled asleep, while he, althrought quite exhausted, had spent his last waking moments watching her sleep.
But what cooled his contentment was the fact that even in her exstasy, she had not given away any of the Alliance's secrets: from a hand he admired her loyalty, but it was unbelievably frustating all the same.
He left the bed gently, not to wake his sleeping companion: he put on a pair of black breeches and a black silk tunic.
Vader was very disappointed that his techniques of seduction had only worked in making her come to his bed willingly (or, as willingly as someone under a bit of influence of the Force could), while her defenses about the Rebellion had been strong and unyielding. And even if this only increased his admiration in her, what was going to say to his Master?
The Dark Lord cursed silently, watching angrily Padmé; he knew he could use more physical tortures, but her doubted they could do him very good: first, because he believed that if she resisted his seduction (something he was sure she was not used to), she wouldn't surely break down with eletric shocks and such. Second, he was very reluctant about marking her gorgeous body.
He cursed again, this time his weakness: because he felt weak with her.
Ah! The terrible Sith Lord weak in front of a fragile, vulnerable woman?
But it was true.
A hesitant knock on the door caught his attention: covering the female on the bed with a blanket, Vader with a gesture of his hand opened the door. He moved to stand right before it so the person on the other side would not see inside the room.
"Milord." He was greeted by a muttering voice.
"Yes, Captain?" Vader said in his best Sith voice.
"The Emperor wants you to contact him."
He blanched: so soon?
'Damn!'
"I will contact him into my private room."
"Yes, sir."
Closing the door, Vader threw a look at the still sleeping Padmé: he would report to his Master and then he will take care of her.
(to be continued)
AN: How I wish I was Padmé... sigh!
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