To my favorite people ever, my constant reviewers aigneis, Lecordonbleu28, and LynaHaber, who have supported this story from the beginning and are the reason for updates.
The twinkling of star systems were merely specks in the enormity of the sprawling black abyss that was the galaxy.
And Vader controlled it all.
He was by far the most superior being in the galaxy, even above his fool of a Master; to think that anyone would think to dare challenge him-
"Commander?"
Vader nearly growled in irritation, snapping his head from the large window to behold the person he least wanted to see in the moment.
"Admiral."
If Vader's low hiss had been a whip it might have drawn blood.
Piett bowed deeply, clearly made aware of Vader's unpleasant mood and anxious to keep from aggravating it further. "Milord, investigations of the officers has been completed. The majority appear to have no relation to the Emperor and are here of their own merit and determination; however, some have been appointed to a position here by-"
"I'll kill the Emperor's pets myself if you're too weak to," Vader snapped.
Piett squirmed slightly under his commander's cold gaze. "Yes, well- Milord, they have done nothing wrong. Most have not even met the Emperor, and only have a connection to him through a father or someone else; surely we can just reassign them elsewhere-"
Vader slammed a fist on the counter, startling the men around and sending them scurrying away like rats from a light. "And risk the safety of my family?" he snarled. "I don't think so. Round them up in the main conference room. I will deal with them myself."
The admiral bowed quickly, twitching back as if barely restraining himself from backing away from the menacing Sith and making an eager dash for the exit. "Yes, Commander." His eyes darted to the chrono, reading two in the morning; however, he made no remark on the time, only saluting respectfully and standing at attention.
What an outstanding officer; one in a mi-
Vader turned back to the window in disgust, giving Piett the cue to leave- which he did, immediately.
The man was a little too good for his current liking: competent, efficient, loyal, diligent . . . not old, ugly, and scarred like all the others . . .
He huffed, drumming his fingers forcefully on the counter for a second before whirling to stalk down the walkway, gritting his teeth.
Who else could he trust with his family?
Even with Vader's tendency to kill off most of his crew, his Master couldn't be so dense as to not realize something suspicious was going on when every one of his planted spies disappeared from the Executor without a clue. No, Sidious would surely come investigating soon.
And so he would play directly into Vader's hands.
Now Vader would be the one to set the trap, not walk into it, reversing his Master's usual role in forcing the wizened fool to seek him out in his domain.
The old man would finally be outsmarted.
Reveling in the feeling of malevolent spite, Vader gathered the darkness around him, allowing it to permeate every midiclorian in his march to the conference room.
There would be no mistakes, and this was the first step in ensuring so.
The lights flickered off as soon as the door swished open, chilling golden eyes surveying the room with satisfaction and a red blade buzzing to life under impatient fingertips. Every cry of realization and horror was swiftly muffled as the door hissed shut, sealing them in the thick blackness like a stone rolled before a tomb.
Vader strolled nonchalantly forward, swinging the elegant saber in a mockingly careless fashion through the air to reveal the stricken faces of panic and terror, relishing in the power that flooded his being and spiked his blood in malignant ecstasy.
"Please-" croaked a voice.
Vader paused, his head moving slowly in the direction of the voice with bitter scorn.
"Death is a natural part of life anyway, isn't is?" he whispered.
A tense silence as the man fumbled to reply- and then Vader moved so fast he had not the time to even open his mouth to scream.
The blade slashed through flesh like it was merely putty, burst of sparks flying from the walls and inducing stifled shrieks as they sizzled down into cloth and skin. Though the saber clutched in Vader's merciless fist was the only light in the oppressive darkness, there was no forewarning, nothing; the Sith whirled about the room with an supernatural speed and grace, a demon flickering back and forth in the red shadows unable to be traced. There was no howling and yelling, only pained grunts and wretched cries followed by the exhale of a last breath sighing in the cursed air. All too soon Vader stood in the midst of bodies, the glowing saber held threateningly over the last cowering form.
"Please, Lord Vader," the man gasped. "I-"
Vader threw him with a flick into the table, the holopads smashing into pieces under his weight. Taking a menacingly step forward, he called a chair to his gloved hand, observing the blood leaking from the man's sweaty palms with malicious pleasure. "You should have known better than to fear the Emperor over me."
The other struggled to his feet, his hands fumbling to find the stone behind him as if hoping he could somehow become a part of it. "Lord V-!"
He screamed as the chair threw him backward into the table, his body crumbling and limbs sagging like those of a rag doll. Vader advanced, savoring the fear enamoring from the broken form too shattered to even shake from the pain.
"Why do you do this?" the man muttered, his eyes glassy.
Vader sneered, his gloved hand coming up to grasp at the other's neck. "I know what needs to be done, and I-"
He suddenly head a sweet childish voice, quiet yet reverberating through his mind and being with torturous power.
No more 'fings will break today?
Vader shuddered at the sound, wrenching himself away from its plea. He looked wildly away, struggling to regain himself, but everywhere in view . . . brokenness, broken items, broken lives, broken bodies, everything broken, dashed to pieces in his fierce zeal for suffering. The shattered glass seemed to glitter tauntingly, throwing wicked streaks of light in his vision, the slumped bodies surrounding him casting eerie shapes onto walls scarred with lightsaber slashes.
Furious, he turned back to the man, intent on lashing out in the fury of his weakness . . . but though he searched agitatedly he could not seem to find his prey, only seeing two brown eyes staring back at him in the darkness, big and entreating and so hopeful. Vader growled and turned his face from the man, snapping his neck quickly and painlessly, feeling strangely sick and unable to find pleasure in torture any longer. He threw the saber violently from him, pushing aside his hood as he became suddenly aware of the sweat and grime covering him.
Nothing stayed within his perfect, safe cove for long anymore; every moment the old good seemed to finally settle back into rhythm, the new, alien uncertainty would sweep in and swirl it all back up into chaos.
Why couldn't everything just be simple - normal - good, like it used to be, without the weakness and the stumbling and the failure?
Vader didn't know what he expected to find when he returned to his chambers, unable to stand alone any longer in the oppressiveness of his crushing thoughts and air suddenly turned sinister in the reeking of death. He could not exactly say he was surprised when he discovered his room barren and silent as always, Padme choosing to sleep once again in the twins' room and unmistakably avoiding him- as if her plain disgust for him wasn't clear enough.
But it still hurt.
Before . . . he had always returned to find her sitting up drowsily in bed, or half asleep with the lights on, patiently and resolutely awaiting his return despite weariness from her work in the Senate.
And then when he had rushed into the room . . . her orbs would light up with a brilliant sparkle and the fatigue would fall away and she would smile, and run to him and . . .
His eyes rolled angrily, his gloved hand coming up under the hood to rub roughly at his temple as he tumbled back onto the bed.
If only he could be enough without her.
He had tried, and tried, but he just couldn't- even the power coursing dark and furious through his veins could not suffice in overcoming the empty ache that ran underneath. As much as he urged it to, roared at it to wash in and fill the gorge, nothing could fill the hollow chasm she had left. Even as the darkness caressed his dead heart, enticing it to join in the triumph, it would not respond, could not relish in it, only continuing in its staggering thud.
It could not be persuaded by anything, for he had already given it to her . . . and he could not take it back, as much as he sometimes so desperately wished he could.
"Ana- Are you busy?"
The soft, sleepy voice jolted him sharply out of his ruminations, the exhausted thumps of his heartbeat stilling and then suddenly accelerating into a rapid rhythm, traitorously beating out its joy at her presence.
Instinctively Vader stood quickly to turn, too hopeful to properly disguise his eagerness. She was here- and she had sought him out-
Crash.
His gaze moved reluctantly to the floor to see the bowl that lay shattered upon the dark tiles, bits skidding across the granite to bounce over his boots. Vader recoiled, his face burning under the hood. "Um- I'll clean that up lat-" He reached awkwardly up to scratch at his neck, then dropped swiftly down to pick at the jagged pieces, his fingers fumbling slightly. "Actually . . . I suppose with children . . . dangerous-"
There was the sound of something like a choked laugh gagging a stifled yawn. Vader whirled to look at Padme, agitated. "What?" he snapped.
She shook her head, her lips pursued as if hiding a smile. "Nothing." Quietly, she padded forward to kneel beside him, deftly plucking the scraps of glass from the floor and placing them neatly in her palm.
His hands stilling in shock, Vader could only stare at her, aghast and bewildered.
She had . . . voluntarily approached him?
And was now helping him?
Something was struggling up from the depths of his soul, still unable to be banished, the pitiful strength he had believed it to possess seeming not so pathetic anymore but astonishingly resilient.
He could not want to fight it this time.
Utterly unaware of his stupefied gaze on her, Padme continued her work, her movements only faltering when her orbs fell upon his motionless hands, her brows folding in bewilderment. She blinked, turning to look at him, her face startlingly near. "Um . . . something wrong?"
He could not hear her question, his mind incapable of logical thought as it became abruptly captive to a warm blanket of haze. He blinked, inadvertently giving a sharp intake of breath at her unexpected proximity.
She was so close that he could see every curling eyelash and every crease in her brow, the flicker of wariness and confusion deep in her dark eyes and the quirk of her lips as they parted slightly . . .
He couldn't think anymore . . . h-he just wanted . . . wanted to . . .
"Vader?" she whispered.
He shook his head roughly, the moment swiftly dashed by an icy coldness and something tightening in the pit of his stomach at the foreignness of the name on that tongue and in that quiet.
He suddenly realized he had been expecting another name.
And that awareness did not fill him with just self-loathing but . . . regret . . .
"Nothing. Sorry." Ducking his head quickly back down to the floor, he resumed his collection of the glass, his eyes watering angrily. The swoop of dangerous longing for the past that had escaped the confines of his mind taunted him then, jeering, but he found that in the fervor of his madness he could not fight back, only lowering his head in momentary defeat.
Vader could feel Padme's regard leave him, moving back down to focus her attention back on the mess, her hands moving just as smoothly but more slowly now. They worked in silence, the only audible sounds the small plinks and clicks of the gathered pieces being dropped and the rustle of movement.
"You wanted something?" he asked finally, wincing at how loud his voice sounded in comparison to the former quiet.
She picked up the last piece, her gaze flickering to him again before she stood and headed to the trash, dusting off her palms. "Yes," she said slowly.
Vader followed suit, gazing at her expectantly.
Padme sighed, ceasing motion to look back up at him. "I feel filthy- like one of those Tatooine scavengers I see so often lurking in the sweltering heat of those horrible canyons."
He could not help the twitch of his lips into a smile at her statement. "You do? I don't think so."
She rolled her eyes. "It's been multiple days since I've gotten a change of clothes."
Vader blinked, his mouth turning down into an ill-tempered frown as he raked a hand through his locks in an attempt to cover up his uncertainty. Growling in self-annoyance, Vader grasped onto the first idea he could think of, whirling to wrench open a drawer and snatching out a pair of his sleep pants and a thin black shirt. Turning rapidly, he held it up to her, his voice gruff. "You can take as many as you want-" he gestured at the drawer still gaping open, "until I . . . I get something suitable . . . " She remained silent, her brown orbs studying the items with a strange expression. "I am sorry, Padme, it's all I have at present; I totally forgot-"
Padme stopped him, smiling softly and taking the clothes gently out of his outstretched hand. "Thank you."
"You're- welcome." He stared at their hands, suddenly wishing he had taken off his gloves beforehand so he could have felt the brush of her skin.
At the brief silence, Padme cleared her throat, speaking haltingly. "Well . . . I'm going to go take a shower."
"No," he said automatically, his mind elsewhere as he absentmindedly grazed his fingers together, the brevity of her touch haunting him.
She adjusted her weight, bewildered. "I'm sorry, what?"
Jolted out of his reverie, he shifted, regretting having spoken. "I'm- going to leave."
She regarded him silently. Frustrated at her lack of response, Vader said stiffly, "You wanted new things to wear."
"Oh," she breathed, her eyes still unsure. "Yes?"
"I'll go get something now." His fingers twitched uncertainly, every particle of his being wishing to touch her, embrace her, pull her into his arms and feel her against him once again- but he restrained himself, his hand moving instead to pat her awkwardly on the shoulder, then falling limply to his side. "Goodbye," he said quietly.
Vader left quickly without daring a glance back.
Will people be so kind as to leave me a review, pretty please? It really does help with updates. I've been getting around less than 5 per chapter, an even lower number than at the beginning of the book, which has been discouraging.
