A/N: Thank you all for the kind reviews. :D That has made my day. I feel that I should clarifiy something before the story continues. This is AU only in the fact that I have rearranged certain aspects of the timeline concerning Vader and Grand Admial Thrawn. Most of the events should continue on as per the canon timeline. For those that are Grand Admiral Thrawn fans, please stay with me through these first couple of chapters. They are from the point of view of an eleven year old child. So of course they are going to be a bit twisted.

Disclaimer: as always, I do not own Star Wars. This is purely for fun. Please don't sue.

Chapter One: The Beginning

The men flanking her smelled like old death, like copper coins left out in the sun until time and heat faded their images and scents. Their stormtrooper uniforms shined in the muted lights, pristine and clean and gleaming with military pride. Still, she could smell the blood, feel the souls of their victims like a fog that always hovered in the air around them. The man on the right had been the one to shoot her father, the man on the left the one that stabbed her mother.

Pyter and Yana Morgan's blood mingled with the blood of countless others, and she had stopped counting the number of victims in that invisible fog for each man after she hit fifty. There were some things she just didn't want to know. That these two men in particular had been the ones to kill her family was one of those facts, but it was too late to not stare at them now. They had not told her that her parents were dead, of course. The man on the right had ordered another to bind her wrists and take her out of the house, first. But she'd learned the truth the moment they walked onto the shuttle, the scent of new death mingling with the old.

Irena Morgan stood between them, trying hard to keep her breathing even as the lift moved them ever upward. She was going to meet him, she knew. She was going to meet the Shadow, the dark man that had haunted her dreams since she could remember. For years, the Shadow came for her each time she closed her eyes, always taking her away from her family forever. Now the dreams had come to pass. Her family was dead, and she was inside the ship that would take her and the Shadow to the Shadow King, himself.

The lift doors opened, and Irena tried hard to keep her eyes on her hands. The cloth bindings, torn from her mother's own blouse, cut deeply into her wrists. She flexed numb fingers, trying to focus on something other than the rising need to scream. She'd screamed before in her dreams, and all that had accomplished was more pain. It was better that she kept her terror inside her chest. Her eyes locked onto her fingers, all her will channeled into the simple touching of fingertip to fingertip.

The men on either side started forward, the man on her right reaching back to clasp a hand on her shoulder and jerk her forward. Irena stumbled, a tiny yelp leaving her lips. He'd meant to startle her, to break what little strength she'd managed to gather. Later on in life she would learn that such things were standard procedure, but at the moment she thought he was just being cruel. Just like all the other icy faces that watched the little eleven-year-old ragamuffin walk down the bridge.

It was impossible to keep her eyes down after that, impossible not to make eye contact with each leering gaze that peered at her from above military gray uniforms. She would remember them all, she knew. Just as she would remember the invisible fog of victims that hovered over each and every man. They were all murderers, and yet most of them were victims, themselves. It was easy to see who wore the uniform willingly, and who didn't. She could feel the chains of oppression like tangible kinetic waves from each unwilling participant.

And then a sound filled her ears, that heavy electronic inhalation of air, and all other thoughts fled.

The Shadow stood, gazing out at the stars, at her home planet beneath them. His breathing echoed through the bridge, echoed through the fear than ran through her veins. Her pulse was thick in her throat, blotting out everything except its uncontrollable beating, and the sound of his computerized breathing. It was suddenly hard for her to think, to breathe, to want to do anything more than sit down on the cold steel deck and cry. She knew what was coming next. He was the shadow of death...

"Lord Vader," the shadow hissed.

Irena looked up, not realizing that she had looked down, that her tears were making messy trails down her dusty cheeks. Was he talking to her? Was he calling to someone else? Was she supposed to respond at all? She looked on helplessly, not trusting herself to speak. Her eyes cast about the bridge, looking for help she knew she would not find.

"I am the Lord Vader," the Shadow said again, turning to face her. "You no longer need to call me Shadow. The time for such childishness is over. Do you understand?"

Irena clamped teeth down on her own tongue, feeling herself going paler. She knew she was supposed to answer this time, and yet would not allow herself. The only part of her that wanted to speak was the part of her mind that had started screaming when the lift doors opened, and hadn't stopped screaming since. She nodded once, bowing her head to look at her hands. Fingers flexed slowly, index touching index... middle touching middle... breathing in... and out... in... and out.

A black gloved hand flashed into her vision, fingertips curling over her chin and lifting her head up. "This is the only time I will repeat a question to you, child," he said, voice cracking through her like lightning. "The time for immature antics has passed. You have been called to serve your Emperor. Do you understand?"

A thin trickle of blood spilled from the left corner of her mouth, her eyes riveted to the Shadow's face. He'd read her mind, like in the dream. She knew the next part of the dream was for her to say "yes, my lord," and yet she could not bring herself to form the words. Fear had wrapped her mind, terror forcing her teeth deeper into her own tongue until it bled to keep from screaming. Screaming was bad. She knew that if she started to scream, she might never stop.

"I see," Vader replied, nearly bending double so that his masked face was inches from her own. "If you wish to fight the will of the Force, so be it. But remember this was your choice, and the Force does not take well to denial."

He straightened, and released her chin. Irena stumbled backward, landing without much grace against one of the officers that had come to watch the spectacle. It was only then that she realized he'd had her up on tiptoe when he grasped her chin. Her legs burned with the strain, her lower face smarting from the strength of his fingers. A strangled sob emerged from her throat before she could swallow it. She didn't want to serve the Shadow King. She didn't want to see the Sha--Lord Vader, to feel him crawling through her mind like a cold wind.

He was angry with her. She could feel it. His anger slid over her skin like tiny ants, biting with exquisite torment. The strangled, half swallowed sob rose in her again, and it was effort not to gather her feet beneath her to either run screaming, or fall at his feet. She wanted him to stop being angry, to let her go to what was left of her home. She wasn't meant to be in the Emperor's service. She just wasn't. Why couldn't he see that?

Vader turned back to the window. "Come here, child," he commanded, his tone leaving little in the way of argument.

The hands on her shoulders tightened and pushed her forward, marching her back to the dark lord's side. Irena stood, looking down on the face of her planet. The oceans stood out in stark relief, the blue-green waters appearing so fragile, like the thin glass of the sculptures her mother made and sold at her shop. How easy one could shatter those seas, splinter them into thousands of droplets across the expanse of the universe. Red turbolazer fire could do it, could boil the seas to steam. Wind would do the rest, carrying the superheated vapor over the land, melting tree and leaf... flesh and bone... until there was nothing.

Her eyes opened wide, head whipping around. That had not been her thought. She had not known what a turbolazer was before that moment, nor had she known that there were enough ships around the planet to carry out that wish. Those were his thoughts... those were his plans! He turned to her then, stolid mask meeting the gaping horror of her own expression. Yes, he was going to do it. He was going to burn the planet to ashes.

All because she had not said a simple, single word in answer to his question.

The invisible fog of his victims flickered around his head like a black halo, and she watched as the number of souls tripled and multiplied until she could no longer keep track of them. Thousands became millions, millions to billions, and on and on. Irena came back to herself, and found she was shaking her head back and forth again and again, a pathetic mewling sound escaping her clamped lips.

Vader lifted his head, looking over her head to the officer that held her upright. "Signal the fleet," he was saying. "You have done well here, Captain Thrawn. The Emperor will be most pleased with your locating of his new... prize," he intoned, looking down at her a moment. "You will further carry out his will and raze this planet to the ground. Total annihilation of all life. I trust you can do this?"

"Yes, Lord Vader," the man behind her responded, his smoothly modulated voice sending chills down her spine until she physically trembled.

"Begin immediately," Vader replied, looking down at her trembling form once again. "And I want you to make her watch. I want her to see every shot, hear every command you give to the entire fleet. She will know the price of defying her destiny, and her Emperor. Do this for me, Admiral Thrawn, and after I deliver this prize to the Emperor, we will further discuss your future."

The hands on her shoulders flexed, fingers tightening with firm and yet gentle pressure. "Thank you, Lord Vader. I will not fail."

The dark lord nodded once, and turned with a swift sharpness, heading back down the bridge toward the lift. Those gloved hands were locked behind his back, the fog of his victims trailing after him like a fetid scent on a breeze. He smelled like old and new death, and of death yet to come. But more than that, he smelled like sorrow. He was the death of the soul, of the dream, and of hope. That had a worse smell that old copper coins.

The mewling sound stopped in her throat as if someone had thrown a switch. The fate of her world depended on her next action, or lack of action. "Please," she whispered, her voice trembling.

Vader paused, turning partway around to regard her. "Please, what?"

"P-please?" She whispered again, letting all the strength fade from her body. The newly appointed Admiral let her slide to the floor until she was kneeling. The tips of his fingers remained on her shoulders, however, a warning of what would happen if she planned any treachery. "Please... yes... I understand."

Again Vader regarded her, and again she caught that faint whiff of dead dreams on the currents of his soul. "Perhaps you do," he said at last. "The Emperor said you would, even for someone as young and untrained in the Force as you. But are you answering what you think I want to hear, or what you truly understand?"

The tears fell, the images of her mother and father flashing before her mind's eye. "Y-yes," she said again, uttering that simple, single word she had refused to speak moments ago.

Irena felt his laughter in her mind more than heard the electronic coughing sound that passed for it. "Impressive and diplomatic answer, but incorrect. This world holds too many rebellious souls, child. It is the Emperor's will that the galaxy learn the price for disobedience, and this planet will serve that purpose. That is your second lesson. Remember it well." He looked over her head again. "Continue, Admiral. The Emperor does not want to be kept waiting."