Rage. Darkness. Hatred.

The emotions swirled through Vader as he danced around the flames, practicing his saber tactics with nothing but hot air to counter his blows.

How could I have been so stupid?

It was because he was weak. He had grown weak these past few months with her. He had allowed himself to lose track of his true purpose and the goal he'd set for himself over a decade ago. The Light Side would be of no assistance to him in his quest.

Vader made his way across a rickety bridge to the abandoned Separatist council chambers. He remembered when his master had assigned him the order to execute them. How pleasurable and satisfying it had been to murder the powerless Viceroy with his own hands!

He had chosen Mustafar as his training spot not only for the isolation, but for the protection it provided himself and Padmé. He was certain that she would have reached out to her rebel friends shortly after his departure and he had no desire to negotiate with them at the moment. He was a Sith Lord- he didn't need their help. Regardless, returning to Tatooine have brought great danger upon her and his mother if the Emperor were to successfully track him down.

With no way to contact his lover, Vader was able to fully concentrate on embracing his power and building up the skills he would need to defeat his master. Their final duel was approaching and Vader had no plans of dying.

He pocketed his glowing red blade and stared out a broken window at the lava below. Vader had never been a fan of fire, not since the Count Dooku incident that left him horribly scarred. But he did not fear the element, for the Sith have no fear. The memory only helped stir up the rage within him.

I'm coming for you, Sidious. I'm coming to strike you down.


Shmi carried a cup of tea to the table for Obi-Wan, who graciously accepted it after the long journey and indulged himself in a gulp or two. This was not a conversation he was looking forward to having.

Feeling Vader's Force signature lingering, Obi-Wan could tell that he had been here, and it had not been long since he'd left. Padmé's eyes were red and puffy, and the silence of the Lars family was disturbing.

"How have you been since the accident, Cliegg?" he began in an effort to break the awkwardness.

"Oh, just fine," Cliegg responded. "I thank the suns every day it was only one sand person and that Owen was there to finish him off for me. Terrible way to lose my leg, but I consider myself fortunate."

Obi-Wan nodded and analyzed each of their faces, trying to determine how much they knew. He sensed confusion, so likely not that much.

"Shmi, do you know where your son has gone?" Obi-Wan started cautiously.

"Don't," Padmé threatened softly.

"She deserves to know, Padmé," Obi-Wan countered. "She is his mother and she could help us."

"If Anakin wanted to tell her, he would have," Padmé snapped, looking him in the eyes. "He had plenty of time to do so during his brief stay here. It is his responsibility, his life- not yours."

Obi-Wan ignored her and proceeded, listening to his gut.

"Have you ever heard of a man called Darth Vader?"

"Vader is notorious, even all the way out here," Owen replied. "It is impossible not to hear of him. Some even say that his origins lie in this part of the galaxy. It would not surprise me. A desolate and painful beginning for a man such as him."

"Did Vader do…that…to my son?" Shmi asked. "You know, the scars and the…missing limbs."

"No," Padmé interjected before Obi-Wan could continue. "Those scars were a result of torture by a Sith Lord called Tyrannus. He was jealous of your son's Force abilities and burned him, but Anakin escaped."

Obi-Wan detected the pain on Shmi's face as she pictured her baby subjected to such darkness. It would be even more difficult to tell her now.

"Shmi, I know you probably still blame me for this, even so many years later," said Obi-Wan, "and you are right to. I promised to keep your son safe and I failed you. I am part of the reason he became what he is."

"And what is that?" asked Shmi.

"This is not a conversation I wanted to have with you," Obi-Wan sighed, "but your son is not Anakin. Deep down, there may be traces of him left, traces that you have seen. But on the surface for more than half his life, he has been Darth Vader."

The room once again fell silent as his companions processed the news before Shmi broke out into violent sobs. Cliegg reached an arm around her, maintaining composure as she gasped for air between each hiccup. Obi-Wan dared not gaze at Padmé.

He had never been more relieved to hear the beeping of his communicator.

"Base to Kenobi! Base to Kenobi!" a voice yelled through the device, which he recognized as belonged to Mon Mothma despite the static interference. It sounded like a plea of desperation.

"Is everything alright?" Obi-Wan asked. "What's going on?"

"Imperial ships are attacking the base!" the rebel leader shouted to him. "I'm trying to evacuate as many as I can, but they're coming in too fast! I was right- we've been betrayed!"

Obi-Wan heard a scream and a crash of some sort before the line went dead. He slammed his fist on the wooden table, cursing himself for leaving his friends alone and unprotected. This was his fault, too. He had convinced them to trust Firmus Piett.

"Excuse me," Obi-Wan announced, keeping his eyes down.

He exited the small home and made his way through the swirling sand to a spot just distant enough where it was still in sight, but too distant for the Lars or Padmé to venture.

Sitting and ignoring the scorching heat radiating through his robes, Obi-Wan slipped into a deep meditation.


Piett found himself in a tiny cell once again, this time coughing up wads of sticky blood.

Surely death must be better than this.

He understood now why Vader was so obedient to the old man. The sort of torture he had to endure would bring even the strongest individual to his breaking point.

And that was exactly what happened.

Piett had reluctantly given away the location of the rebel base on Jakku in exchange for his life, which the Emperor had been all too willing to take from him after his failed mission to retrieve Vader. But he did not know how much longer he would last. Vader was intellectual enough that he would not return again unless he had an infallible plan. And Piett highly doubted that plan would involve his rescue considering that he had set him up. And he had no further information to give to the Emperor should he return, hungry for more.

Piett's days were numbered.


Vader felt the exhaustion begin to creep up on him after a full day immersed in the Dark Side and retreated to the stolen Imperial ship for a couple hours of rest. Or, at least, as close to rest as he could get.

Vader found himself unable to sleep peacefully without Padmé's presence beside him. He could not love her, but a Sith was surely allowed to lust, right?

And oh, did Vader lust for her. He wanted to hear her moan and scream his name, knowing that he was the source of the pain and the pleasure he was inflicting upon her body. That one night had provided him with the clarity he needed. She wanted Vader, and Vader wanted to kill the Emperor. This was the key to making her happy. She could be a queen again and they could rule the galaxy together.

Vader smiled at this thought. He knew she would resist the idea at first, given her strange love for democracy, but she would warm up to it eventually if she truly loved him. Part of him wished he could fully embrace the Light Side and return her love and affection. For a brief period of time, he almost did. But it wasn't the light that he needed, it was separation from the darkness that made him a slave. His own darkness was acceptable in freedom.

And then there was his mother. He could give her a better life, too. A palace on a planet with no sand and no slavery, surrounded by flowers and oceans and other beautiful things she would like.

But first, he needed to focus on his mission. These thoughts were a distraction. Even in his sleep, Sidious's yellow eyes should be the only think he dreamed of as he drifted off.

And saw those eyes, he did. He gazed around the room, which appeared to be the throne room in the Imperial Palace. Four or five guards were dead, likely by his hand. And…was that the body of Obi-Wan Kenobi? He could not tell if he was breathing, but incapacitated on the cold stone floor was enough to make him grin.

But wait…there was another saber in his peripheral vision. He swirled to his left and looked down, where he saw a tiny green figure grasping a green sword of light. Though he had never met the Jedi in person, Vader could distinguish that this was Master Yoda, supposedly one of the most powerful of the Jedi Order. Well, he would just have to test that.

Sidious cackled in the background, the sound ringing in his ears as he lunged for Yoda. The small creature back flipped away from him and met his lightsaber with an unexpected amount of force from someone so small. Vader had no qualms about this challenge. He would embrace the Dark Side to defeat this Jedi, then unleash its full power upon his Master.

Vader, please!

The woman's voice made him step back. It was not a cry of ecstasy as it had been the night he had taken her as his own on Tatooine, but a cry of pain.

Vader!

He turned his head to the right, where Padmé cowered in a corner, her clothes disheveled and a blaster in her right hand. She raised it, white-knuckled, pointing it at him. Tears streamed down her perfect cheeks.

"Stop it!" she shouted. "I don't want to do this! I love you! Just stop!"

His angel was pointing a gun at him. What had he done to get himself into this situation?

He assessed the room once more. The little green creature was still positioned to his left, ready to strike. Obi-Wan had not stirred. Sidious stood in front of his throne, red lightsaber drawn and grinning with yellow teeth.

Vader understood now. He had to make a choice. There was the Light Side, the Dark Side, and, well…Padmé. Of course, he would choose her over anything.

But as he took a step to the right, all he heard was her screams as a lightsaber plunged through his stomach.

Vader startled awake, gasping and sweating in the cabin. He was still in the ship on Mustafar. He couldn't help but think this dream was not just a dream, but a vision presented to him by the Force of things to come. A vision he could not let come true.

Regardless ofwhether it had been the Jedi or the Emperor who killed him, something had gone horribly wrong with his plan. This was his battle with Sidious- Padmé was not supposed to be there.

Vader knew what he needed to do. If the Empire had not tracked him down yet, he was probably safe. Finding her and keeping her away from the palace would be the only way to stop his vision from becoming a reality. He would need to ditch this ship.

Ducking beneath the ceilings that were not designed for his height, Vader made his way to the cockpit. He strapped himself into the pilot's seat and felt his elevated heart rate decline. This had always been where he was most comfortable.

Where Anakin had been most comfortable, too.

Vader brushed the thought away as he sped off into the atmosphere and beyond into the darkness above him, his path illuminated by distant stars.


Hi everyone! I apologize once again for the lack of updates, but I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I spent the last couple months in a bit of a slump trying to figure out some stuff in my life. However, everything has worked itself out and I am graduating in December. I have decided to take myself on a different track in grad school and FanFiction is part of what inspired me to do so. You guys have been so supportive and I love reading your stories. I hope to finish mine by the end of this year and appreciate the patience you have shown me as readers along this journey. ~Lyanna