Hope seemed to be lost.

Amidala let out a sardonic laugh. Hope was long lost years ago, and she was well aware of that.

Days before, she heard the battle raging out of her confinement cell. Volleys of heavy trubolaser pummeling the shield generators. The sound of the main gate breached by heavy guns and desperate attempts for the last stand.

And now, dragged out by stormtroopers, Amidala saw the pack of prisoners kneeling in the clearing in front of the main entrance. Banthas huddling in the abattoir. Scattered corpses, weapons and debris implied the fierce battle that ensued before. Thick, acrid smoke was low on the surface, the Dantooine breeze spreading the pall of shadow.

But the shadow was shrouded by an abyss, presented by a creature in black armour. Amidala's heart lurched at the sight of a tall, dark creature, in armour, with a mask, behind them. She felt her body shiver as she was finally aware of the ominous breathing venting out of its helmet. The menace of the terrifying creature in his grotesque, black armour suppressed the air heavy.

It was unquestionably the most atrocious being in the Galaxy. A being without a face, a statute of woe and pain, the heart of darkness. The fist of the Empire and the enforcer of Palpatine. As the other Imperials were still feared or disgusted by the public, they wore the pupil of life, while it was the epidemy of death itself. People prayed when they saw this creature.

Amidala let out an internal, visceral sigh as they passed by the motionless armour, but then she felt a hand grasping her face hard. It was a hand of a sly looking young officer, bearing a terribly burnt face and his dirty smile.

Amidala noticed he was one of the officers laughing and drinking, watching after the prisoners. An Alliance soldier was tied to a chair, stained in his own blood, screaming as an IT-O interrogation droid peeled off his skin. He and his gang of officers torturing the prisoner wore their uniforms delinquently, unbuttoned and creased. Some had shock whips tied onto their belts, their face red with alcohol. Amidala noticed a container of death sticks, some adding it to their glasses.

"Nice day, lovely girl".

"I believe you have no authority to torture or slaughter these prisoners, Colonel -." Amidala started to resist, but the officer let out a sneering laugh as he slapped her across the face.

"You still have quite a mouth to speak, sweetheart"? He uttered, still bearing his disgusting smile. "Tie this one up. I see this one would be more enjoyable than ever".

The stormtroopers obeyed as they forced her into the chair, chaining her limbs to it. The previous one was ripped out of it to be thrown on the pile of corpses. The officer grabbed her hair, pulling it back until her neck was exposed.

"Well, let's start our fun now, shall we"?

He and his gang snickered again as the IT-O droid's scalpel cut through her skin between her neck and collarbone. Her skin was stained with blood, but she clenched her teeth, repressing her physiological response to scream. She did not scream when the droid electrified her open wounds. She did not flinch when a strike from a shock whip was lashed out on her body.

"Oh, you're quite defiant after all".

The officer and his crew laughed again as he struck her face with his hands a few more times.

"Virtuous. She earns every second to her comrades by withstanding". A fat officer slurred as he urinated over the shredded, tortured corpse.

Amidala did not find the words entertaining, but all the others laughed.

"I have a surprise present for sorts of you". Amidala shivered, feeling the scent of liquor on his breath as the officer spoke in his ear. "I have come up with a new drug for our entertainment. Maybe you can be our first guest".

As the droid injected the drug into her veins, she immediately felt pain. An excruciating pain, a pain she had never suffered before, at least physically. She felt as if her blood was consisted of boiling acid, with every corner of her body suffering. She screamed unintentionally, as she twitched her body in a desperate attempt to disperse the pain, now dominating her every nerve. Then the laughter and torture went on. The droid cut through her flesh and electrified her. Then the men took their turns to slap her, both with their hands and shock whips.

Once there were days when Padme had nothing to fear. She once thought that torture was not an element to break her wills. She once thought that physical pain will be nothing compared to her fragmented, accursed years, but now she admitted that she was wrong. She closed her sight, letting herself float in the voidness of her mind. She felt her lancinating blood flooding out of her open wounds, her deciduous life slipping out of her grasp. Was this the end of her miserable life? Tortured, no one to be with, nothing to lose with, with no one to love with...

The strokes from the droid stopped. The strikes and insults from the officers ceased, and the rambling din of the aftermath of the battle was not to be heard. Instantly, only silence lingered. Amidala opened her eyes slowly.

With a sharp landing sound and a hissing of the compressed air spurting out of its undercarriage, a Nubian Royal Starship, shining silver, berthed. The other prisoners, cuddling themselves in terror, looked up in awe as the entrance opened, and a creature walked out of the ramp, covered in smoke made by the landing. Amidala feebly lowered her head. There could be only one Imperial official who would present himself in the aftermath of the battle, carried by a Nubian Starship. Amidala thought she better die under torture than disgracefully begging her life to this man.

Darth Vader. As he marched forward, his dark cloak fluttered at the strong Dantooine winds. On his rear was a young, lean Imperial officer in a neatly pressed uniform, followed by an astromech droid coloured in white and blue. Troopers in dark armour with blood-red spaulder, covering their right shoulders packed behind him in marching formation. The vague shape of the Executor was seen on the horizon.

All the other officers and stormtroopers saluted immediately. The dark creature in armour stepped forward as he began to speak in his terrible, deep mechanical voice.

"You were unexpected, my lord".

"Evidently not".

Vader murmured in his low, phlegmatic, baritone voice, gazing between Amidala, the prisoners, and the officers.

"What's this"? Vader demanded, shaking his head to the pile of captives.

"We were interrogating the prisoners, my lord". The officer with the burnt face replied, stepping forward. "When we extract information -".

"Are we so profoundly popular that we can afford to torture and slaughter prisoners for your own pleasure, officer Sarne"? Vader interrupted.

"These are just mere disposables, Lord Vader. I was just trying to get rid of them so you would have fewer concerns". Sarne said.

"I must disagree". Vader said, his golden eyes now meeting Amidala's ensanguined amber ones.

"This one was a Senator of Naboo, you idiot. Not a disposable prisoner".

Vader let out a small sigh, starting to walk into the partially demolished Alliance base. Vader ordered briefly to the officer behind him.

"Officer Piett. Have the prisoners sorted. Free the soldiers. Officers and Generals will be transferred to the Executor for trial".

Vader did not turn around as he remotely uttered.

"Bring the Senator. Heal her and situate her in my chambers".

—✥—

Padme saw her husband running towards her as they embraced each other.

The fiery planet glowed his and her eyes red. Padme was worried, terrified. Obi-wan told her that Anakin has turned to the Dark side. That he was conspiring with the Chancellor to subvert the Republic. Was he indicating the truth? Or was he manipulating her for his own reasons? She could not decide which one was worse.

Padme and Anakin stood in that volcanic wasteland, cuddling each other desperately, as time flowed as eternity. She closed her eyes, taking deep, steady breaths. She went here to speak with him, but she did not manage to. The moment was so calm and content.

"Padme".

The voice forced Padme out from her delusion. The quiet but volatile voice was trembling, full of rage and sorrow. And terror . The voice ripped Padme out of his arms.

"Traitor"!

She saw the golden eyes.

"You brought them here to kill me"!

Padme looked back, her eyes in horror to see the two Jedi Marching forward out of her ship. Obi-wan on the front, Plo Koon on the rear.

"No, no, Anakin ..."

That was her last words to Anakin Skywalker, her first words to Darth Vader. Vader did not grant her the opportunity to hear his utterance. She felt an invisible force obstructing the air from entering her lungs. After a moment of eternity, her sight dimmed out as Darth Vader suddenly loosened his grip, her body falling to the ground.

The last thing she heard was the bombinating sounds of clashing lightsabres and the phosphenes of the glowing red planet.

Glowing red.

Her engorged eyes followed the traces of the blazing vermillion coloured dress offered to her, trimmed in silver embroidery. The light and the comfortable fabric was an onerous extravagance, a chain too fit for her, a mere allusion for now, but still a consuming one.

She did not appreciate Vader for his hospitality.

She blamed Vader.

His toxic existence was disassembling her Alliance. Vader joined the war only a few months ago, but he soon became a rallying figure for the Empire. Alliance and neutral systems spontaneously surrendered to Vader, kneeling before his fraudulent magnanimous. Ignorants across the Galaxy still regarded him as the young, righteous Jedi of the Clone Wars, and he acted his part well. He was the ultimate reason for her demise in the Alliance.

She blamed Palpatine.

A good actor during his entire career, deceiving everyone while eroding the Galaxy in his venom. Maybe his schemes went back to the times of the Naboo crises. Amidala remembered as she spearheaded the denouncement of Chancellor Valorum. Or it was his webs that placed her to meet Anakin on the desert planet of Tatooine during her escape. So her husband could vanguard the war for him, taking down the Republic while no one perceived it. As she did not feel her husband was dying in her arms, every day, slowly and apparently.

And She blamed Anakin, her husband.

She blamed Anakin for loving her. She blamed him for making her love him, forcing them into a false, deceitful relationship that will last until the end of their days.

She always felt uncomfortable with his possessive behaviour, extreme measures he took to avenge and protect his loved ones. She saw him slaughtering the whole village of Tusken raiders as retribution for his mother. It was a shock, but she assumed the Tuskens deserved it, and she felt an odd attraction to him, believing he would do anything for his love, for her. And it was right.

It was that faithful day that everything came clear. The day she indicated that democracy died with thunderous applause. The day Palpatine tore away the corpse of the Republic he wore, announcing the formation of the new Galactic Empire. And the day Darth Vader ripped out of Anakin Skywalker, chocking her, destroying himself on that miserable planet.

But it was her choice to love him, to adore the man destined to become Darth Vader. It was her existence who encouraged him to betray her for her own sake. And it was their impulsive, reckless nature that brought them to the planet of Geonosis only to be captured, triggering a war, leading to their hypocritical wedding and the demise of the Galaxy.

As well as she could not blame anyone but herself, she blamed everyone.

She gazed a last look at the japor snippet necklace, feeling the texture of the familiar trinket she wore for half her life. Then it was ripped from her neck. A stroke of tear bled from her eyes.

Amidala then shuffled out of the large, hollow chamber.

—✥—

His office was dark.

Amidala glared at the man, sitting in the shadows, snowed under the pile of datapads scattered across the table. At her arrival, he reached out the hand, turning on the lights with the Force, the glowing, artificial illuminations revealed him.

Amidala sat down in the chair in front of Vader. She considered the space between them was dangerously close. Though she did not want to last a second with him in private, she had resolved herself. It may be her best chance for revival, presumable even an opportunity granted by the Force. She would lure him for trusting her and will take drastic measures if she had to. Then she could rehabilitate her fallen order to start a new resistance against the Empire. She would dedicate anything to destroy Palpatine's Empire.

She stared at him, with him absorbing her glare while nonchalantly working on his datapads. He still wore his features, but dark and contaminated. His beautiful, tender lips, now chapped and bruised. His blue eyes, once bright and divine, now dim and precarious, tainted with dark circles. The trembling hand was perilously thin, with capillaries protruded from his pale skin. His garments were the best she ever saw him wearing with her bare eyes. He wore a well-tailored black leather jacket with exquisite patterns embellished on its surface. The amber buttons edged with electrum shined in the glowing light. Under that was a blood-red shirt, collars covering his thin neck. His dark cloak was hanging on the armrest of the chair.

"Lord Vader". She said softly but flatly and dryly. "I formally capitulate and surrender to your mercy. I consent to every term you offer me".

"What do you want"?

His unfamiliar voice filled the air between them. Amidala assumed it as his new political voice. With his firm face and stiffened lips, he looked her full in the face.

"I suppose I am not in a place to demand you of something, Lord Vader".

"What do you want"?

His clipped syllables once again rang her ears. Now he raised his face to match hers. The datapad he was working on landed on the pile in front of his desk.

"As I said, I surrendered myself and all my rights to you, Lord Vader. It is you who will decide my lot. I will do whatever you demand of me".

"You are well aware that I will not kill, torture or imprison you against your will. That is why you required to speak with me, and I know that you are not simply here for banters". Vader spat out his words impatiently, demanding her answer, with his rough and irritable breaths occasionally interpreting his words.

"I am your prisoner, Lord Vader. And I realised that you are a far more pleasant company than the other Imperials. I now see that your ideologies were more fitted in ruling and repairing this war-torn Galaxy. I was wrong. I was wrong to assume that order could be restored through a peaceful, political revolution. I was wrong to refuse and deceit you. I will submit to whatever you demand from me, both politically and personally". Amidala said while feeling Vader's dusky blue eyes piercing through her.

"You are inducing me to say what I want".

Vader's recovered his usual low tone, but his eyes were glaring. He stood up and walked in front of her, towering over her chair.

"I have a plan for you".

Despite the low, collective timbre of his words, Vader's eyebrows and lips quivered as he declaimed. Amidala watched him pacing the small chamber to turn around facing the wall, spitting out disorganised breaths, before he threw himself back on the chair. She once again felt his ice blue eyes lancing her through.

"I need you to participate in my plans to resurrect the office of the Chancellor of the Imperial Senate".

"How can I assist you in such plans, my lord"?

"You will be the Chancellor on my behalf".

Amidala still smiled gently, but she could not conceal her bewilderment.

"And what should I do as the Chancellor"?

"You will have the authorisation to supervise every legislation activities. You will also represent and govern the Imperial Centre. The Coruscant defence fleet, Coruscant Guard and Coruscant Security department will also be under your command".

Amidala gave him a searching look. "I assume Grand Vizier Mas Amedda is currently representing the Senate. The governing of Coruscant is appointed to moff Kadir, as well as its security force. Admiral Terrinald Screed is in command of all the military organisations located on the Imperial Centre. Do you believe they will be content to be compelled to renounce their powers"?

"Their opinions are hardly a concern". Lord Vader said.

Amidala grimaced. "Then what will be your concern, and what will be your true intentions, Lord Vader? I may serve your bidding more efficiently when I actually know what that is".

"Your role is to bring order back to the capital and the Senate and to relieve its discontent civilians. I will provide protection against physical harms and possible political harassments. In return, you will support my claims when the throne is taken".

"You are speaking an act of treason, my lord". Amidala pointed out.

"You were committing an act of treason, my lady". Vader retorted.

Silence lingered once again before Amidala smiled wryly, speaking with her voice.

"I will accept this your terms, Lord Vader. I see no reason to offend your generous offer".

"Good". Vader simply replied as he used the Force to float a small object in front of her. "This is your code cylinder. No one will dare request you to present it, but it will give you access to information classified within your authority".

"Can you tell me how much time have you spent planning this, Lord Vader"? Amidala asked, subtly insinuating her loath, picking up the passementerie as she reviewed their weird conversation.

"None of your affairs". Vader drawled as he pulled another datapad to his desk with the Force. "Now you may return to your quarters, my excellency".

"It was a pleasure, Lord Vader". The Chancellor said as she left through the door which Vader opened, using his Force seconds ago.