A/N: Wedding time everyone! :Dx
Chapter 29: Till the End of All Days
Padmé's perfectly manicured nails bit into the flesh of her palms as she remained still as a stone. Glancing to the chrono, her nerves etched away at her composure. Dormé and several other stylists had already completed her makeup, her hair almost poised perfectly. Her handmaiden had spent the better part of two hours straightening it, her hair reaching far past the base of her spine until she twisted one edge into a loose braid – the rest forming an intricate bun. She had been sitting in the same chair since before dawn, the chrono slowly ticking towards ten in the morning. Even if she felt herself aching to move around, she still wanted time to slow, not prepared for when the hand struck noon.
Once Dormé finished weaving the braid through the low bun, the woman's heart lurched. Staring at herself in the mirror, she lingered over her modest makeup, and the sophisticated yet elegant style of her hair. Not intending to sound vain, but she looked divine, never had she even come close to looking so perfect in her entire life. Even only dressed in nude undergarments, stockings, and a silk white robe, her face had never looked so angelic.
"We should hurry and get you into your dress," Dormé quickly nodded, two women left the room before returning with her gown. Biting her lip, Padmé's eyes lingered over the white lace- "Stop biting your lip!" her handmaiden cried, quickly she popped open her mouth. The young woman groaned, "Let me see," she snapped gently grabbing her chin. The bride remained frozen, "Milady you are lucky you didn't do any serious damage. Remember you cannot bite, lick, or touch anything." Padmé giggled quietly, "No giggling! You'll cause lines!"
"I can't just be a statue Dromé, I'll be speaking eventually," the bride argued.
"Yes, but until then not a word. We don't have enough time to redo your makeup, nor remove any stains from your teeth! We are already behind!"
"We still have two hours-"
"Hush!" Dormé ordered, "Eirtaé, please help me remove her robe, we must get her into that dress. It will be quite the predicament if it is not hemmed perfectly. Force-sake, what if it's too long? I cannot believe we did not size this to you beforehand."
Padmé rolled her eyes, "I'm sure it will fit fine Dormé-"
"Fine?!" The woman gaped, "It must fit perfectly!" Dormé had her up and out of the seat within moments, guiding her slowly towards the pedestal the Sabé and Eirtaé eased away her robe. There was haste in every step Dormé took, her hands reaching for the corset hanging nearby. Hands clutching the pillar just beyond the three-panel mirror, Padmé tried to put her mind at ease feeling her lungs compress as Dormé tugged and laced the corset. Padmé felt uncomfortable for a moment, four sets of eyes gawking– scrutinizing every bit of her.
Turning towards the mirror, Yané and Dormé gently placed her gown onto the pristine velvet floor of the pedestal, Dormé guiding her fastidiously as she ushered her to step into the dress. When the door to her dressing room slid open, her heart jolted as her mother burst in.
"I found them," her mother panted placing a set of diamond earrings on her vanity. Her mother was already dressed in a Nubian gown, much different than the dress that was about to be resting upon her frame. When the dress slowly eased up her body, she felt her hands quivering – nerves finally getting the better of her as Dormé and Sabé eased her arms into each of the laced sleeves. Padmé's eyes fluttered shut feeling the lace of the dress tightening, she was scared to look at herself. "Moons, my love you look divine," her mother gasped. Finally lugging her eyelids open, the woman's heart skipped a beat. The dress fit her perfectly, the long silky cathedral train reaching far behind her as Dormé quickly pulled out any creases.
Padmé took in the sight of herself, complicity yet simplicity working in harmony– she had never seen any other dress like it before. It was a masterpiece. Part of her wasn't even sure if she deserved to be the one wearing it.
"It's marvelous, Lady Naberrie…" Dormé whispered, all five women taking a step back. Padmé stood like a statue, only her fingers were gently fiddling with the cuffs of her sleeves. "Heels," the woman snapped too, fluttering towards the wardrobe, snagging a pair of elegant white heels. Padmé felt the dress shift, Sabé and Yané easing up the fabric as she stepped into each one. "Okay…" she whispered, tugging at the brim of her dress – her eyes analyzed every inch, fingers meticulously moving with diligence as she spanned Padmé's entire body.
Dormé bit her lip as she stood back, Sabé handing her the lengthy wedding veil. "We will put that on closer to noon."
"Can I move around now?" Padmé wondered, her eyes following Dormé as she splayed her veil across the dressing table. The woman nodded, hand reaching down to the bottom of her dress helping her down off the pedestal. "How many stairs do I have to go up again?"
"Technically seven," she nodded pinning on Padmé's earrings, "Once you arrive at the cathedral there will be two steps, inside there are another three, then when you step up to the alter you will have to go up another two."
"Kriff," Padmé breathed, her eyes flashing down to the length of her dress.
"It will be fine, both your father and I'll be there with you, okay?" Dormé assured her.
The bride nodded gently, "I can honestly say I have never been this anxious in my entire life."
Dormé smiled, "Come on Padmé you've faced bigger foes than a few steps."
"I don't even know if I can keep my legs from shaking," she whispered feeling herself already quivering.
"Padmé. You are flawless. You are strong. You are a beacon of hope." Dormé's eyes flashed to the Senator's mother as she wondered away into the sitting room, "I know you are scared," she whispered, "But the more I see him with you, the more I see you changing him. Do not believe for a second you have lost. There is always hope. You are loved by so many my Lady. Never will you be alone." She assured; her eyes determined.
Blinking Padmé struggled to urge her tears away, "Sith's hell Dormé, I hope you're right."
A smile tugged at her handmaiden's lips, "We need to get you to the cathedral, you are lucky that it is only a short walk away."
Padmé cringed thinking about the media, the crowd outside. "How many people are here?"
"Don't think about that, look at what is in front of you," she advised leading her towards the tearoom. The entire room was filled to the brim with flowers – her father seated waiting idly dressed in elegant yet modest black and navy Nubian robes within the sea of petals.
When he saw her, his jaw dropped as he stood swiftly. "You are more stunning than words can describe," he whispered, tears welling in his eyes.
"Please don't cry," Padmé pleaded with him. She hardly noticed Dormé quickly fix her train before returning to the dressing room to give them a moment.
Her father took a deep breath, "It has been hard for me wrap my mind around all this," he admitted. "All I want is for you to be happy. If you are happy with him, truly happy… Then I have worried for nothing."
"I am," Padmé admitted, "Though, I must confess that we do have our differences. We aren't perfect… But I know there is something special between us papa," she whispered, "I want this, I want him… I love him." Padmé felt the words leave her lips and she couldn't help but feel the true emotion that poured from them. She knew that Vader loved her, even if how he displayed it was at times distorted.
"Okay," her father weakly smiled, "I just want the best for you… I've always believed that no man in this galaxy or beyond could ever deserve you."
A soft smile tugged at her lips, "I know papa," she whispered, hugging him as tight as she could.
Her father's eyes glanced to the chrono, the ceremony was to begin in twenty minutes. "Alright let's go!" Dormé chimed rushing out of the dressing room with her veil. Padmé felt the halo touch her hair, the sheer fabric cloaking her visage as the rest fell down her back to hover above the floor. The handmaiden nestled a white bouquet of millaflowers in her hands. "You both ready?"
What came next solidified themselves in her memory as pieces, the walk outside the palace, the steps up to the cathedral. She was so focused on what lied ahead that she blocked everything else as she focused on moving one foot then the next. The only time she deviated was to witness the mass of people beyond a powered fence, the Emperor's royal guard stationed every few meters. She had trained the smile that was on her features, the royal photographer catching every second of her movements, yet her mind was unpracticed. If maneuvering in heels hadn't become second nature since she was queen, it would have been a devastatingly long walk. Padmé counted each step once she reached the cathedral, her mind spinning not even registering as Dormé and Yané swiftly shifted the base of her veil. It was instinctive as her fingers dug into the space of her father's elbow as the first set of heavy doors slowly broke open.
"It's alright," her father whispered, placing his hand over her own. The smile washed from her face they strolled inside the narthex; the doors shutting with a distinct clunk. Her focus remained locked on the next set of doors, feeling her dress shift, Dormé's movement were precise, planned with perfect direction as she delicately shifted her train. Teeth softly griding, Padmé attempted to collect herself watching her handmaidens speak cordially with a smile to the men positioned near the door. When the hand struck noon, the bell tower sounded. Her mind counted down the rings. The chiming of the bells then faded as the hint of an orchestral melody from beyond the doors filled the quiet.
Time appeared to slow when the doors hauled open, species of all different kinds rose. Yet her eyes were only searching for someone deep inside the nave, finding who she longed to see. Donned in black robes, military achievements, the monarch insignia remained proud on his chest. It was when her gaze connected with his - time seemed to stop. Her chocolate gaze sparkling with unshed tears. Lips parting, Padmé's eyes never left his as she became entranced, lost in their golden warmth. Vader's aura radiated devotion, nothing but the two of them existing. Her neck slightly craned finding herself mesmerized by him as her father slipped the bouquet from her fingers. The woman's attention became completely consumed until she felt a slight nudge, her father's hand slipping from her own as Vader's warm grasp replaced his leading her up the final step.
Once they turned towards the alter, the words that left her lips became seamless. The celebrant speaking though she could hardly pay attention that was until the man told them to turn to one another, the sheer of her veil fluttering out of sight. "With this holy iron I bind thee together as one," the man declared, her nerves heightened watching him capture Vader's left wrist – slicing the blade lightly across his flesh. Padmé's feet shifted in her heels, only able to stand and witness him collect her own wrist swiping the sharpened dagger against her skin. Swiftly, the man brought their wrists together binding them together with holy cloth, "In the everlasting presence of the Force, I hereby bind these two souls, connecting them as one for eternity. Look upon each other another and state the vows," he bowed.
Vader's golden gaze seized her own as they spoke in unison,
"I am hers and she is mine. From this day, till the end of all days."
"I am his and he is mine. From this day, till the end of all days."
With one small tug, the cloth slipped from their wrists, the celebrant slowly shutting his eyes before turning to Vader with a small nod. Without a moment of hesitation, the man's lips pressed against hers with a chastised kiss. What followed was much more, Vader escorting her back down the aisle was when she finally understood the mass number of attendees. Every row was filled, the five-story gallery above brimmed with species of all different ages and kinds. Once back inside narthex, the only place with the least number of prying eyes – a blush pinched her cheeks.
Vader did not speak as his fingers tenderly captured her chin, his golden gaze communicating his irrevocable passion. The look in his eyes was more powerful than any words could demonstrate. She felt his admiration, his loyalty. Staring at her with such adoring eyes as if he were in the presence of a deity. Watching them dull, azure seeped through honey – his lips parting. She wasn't sure how long they stood there, how long she had been mesmerized by the sensation of his skin against her own. That was until his attention shifting to something behind her, his gaze suddenly seeping into numbness. Padmé turned, catching sight of the Emperor gliding towards them.
"My congratulations to both of you," he mused, bowing his head.
"Thank you, Your Grace" Padmé whispered, offering a small curtsy.
"You look enchanting, Lady Vader. I must make my rounds, but I will be sure to speak with you more at the reception," he nodded, his yellow teeth flashing from between his cracked lips.
"Of course," she replied bowing her head as he took his leave. She watched the Sith's eyes follow him a moment before connecting back to hers. "Vader?" Padmé whispered, her fingers brushing down his chest. He caught her hand delicately, a small frown tugging at his lips catching sight of blood that had rolled down her wrist. When his thumb brushed across the linear mark, her eyes widened watching the crimson liquid recess, healing her enough to stop the bleeding.
Breaking them apart, Dormé's pitched voice ushered them towards the main entrance of the cathedral. Everything seemed to travel faster than before, they were back to the palace within moments it seemed. Once they returned to her dressing room, the door slid open and briskly closed giving the newly-weds a bit of privacy. Padmé daintily sat down onto the sofa, her senses flooded by the fragrance of flowers. Watching Vader rest back against the wall, she couldn't help but allow her eyes to trail over him again. His hair was perfectly quaffed, not a single wrinkle in his uniform. Dormé suddenly burst into the room, Vader not moving from his place, yet Padmé quickly shot off the couch – worried about being reprimanded for sitting in her gown.
"Okay we need to get you changed – you out," Dormé huffed, shooing Vader away. A smile tugged at his lips.
"Come on Dormé, we're married now – can't we at least have a few more moments of peace?" She wondered.
"Nope, that's what later tonight is for," she winked, lugging her into the other room. Padmé gave her husband one last glance as he left the sitting room while she went back into the dressing chamber. In a moment she was surrounded by her handmaidens, each of them moving strategically – slipping her out of the dress before quickly donning her in a robe. Padmé felt her hair fall to beyond the base of her spine – Dormé quickly undoing all her hard work. "I figured that we could keep your hair long for the reception, is that okay?" She wondered placing Padmé back in front of the vanity. The woman's head notched to the side analyzing her straight hair in the mirror.
"Okay," she acquiesced, when Dormé began twirling her hair into a commemorative Nubian look, her shoulders fell at ease. It was a strong style, on that would prove resilient against sudden movements – opposite of the previous.
Almost finished fixing her hair, the door of her dressing room slid open, Sola and her mother rushing towards her swiftly.
"What a beautiful ceremony, oh my love I am so happy for you!" Her mother sighed, tugging her into a small hug.
"It was faster than I figured," Padmé whispered, her finger brushing across the mark on her wrist.
"That's because both of you were so absorbed with one another," Sola giggled tossing herself on to the couch, "I've never seen anything remotely similar to the way Lord Vader did when the doors finally opened. I thought he was about to drop to his knees at the sight of you."
A blush touched her cheeks, "I'm not sure about that…" Padmé whispered.
"Please, I've never seen a man so taken in my entire life, you were a goddess among the mortals at that point," she mused with a dramatic sigh, "Ugh it's just too cute."
Staring at her own reflection, she'd never felt emotions from him so powerful. She wondered if they would last… Her sister was right in saying that she'd seen nothing else like it because neither had Padmé. Recalling what Eryx had said a few nights prior, he warned her of his attachment – willing to destroy anything that came between them. She wanted to feel comforted by that, if anything had ever happened, he'd always be there to protect her. However, there was also a part of her that worried. She knew of his tendencies; how paranoid he could become. Shaking her mind of the thought, Padmé tried not to dwell on the negative – trying to just be thankful that she made it through the ceremony without incident.
Within the next several hours, Padmé found herself giggling – hands intwining and fiddling with her husband's. They had already shared their first dance, had a few flutes of champaign; they were in their own little world as the guests around them drank and danced in celebration. She could hardly focus on anything else besides the feeling of his skin against her own. They were close, Vader's chin resting just above her head as they continued to play in peaceful silence. She should have probably been socializing, yet all she wanted was for him to take her home. She missed their bed, even if 3PO was waddling around the ballroom now, she missed the domestic feeling there – the privacy.
"We can return tonight if you wish," Vader whispered into the top of her head, hearing her stray thoughts.
"I don't want my family here without me," Padmé frowned, her eyes pulling away from their hands to find her mother and father dancing adoringly.
"I can have their belongings packed and sent to our establishments, by the time we get home, everything would be there," he offered.
"I would like that," she whispered nestling even closer to him, perhaps pushing the limits on the affection she should display.
"I will tell Threepio," he sighed, shifting in his seat.
"Do you wanna go somewhere more private?" Even though her voice was soft, there was a distinct underlay in her words, suddenly she felt invisible hands slip under her dress. A gasp fell from her lips as she inched back.
"I hardly think anyone would notice if we left for twenty minutes," Vader sultry whispered in her ear. The woman's skin flushed with heat as his touch inched closer to her core, sending her nerves ablaze.
"Padmé!"
Hearing her name snapped her posture straight, her attention whirling towards the high pitched voice. Who she saw beside Sola made her nerves churn with another emotion, her body suddenly feeling hot with embarrassment. That was until she realized Vader had been using the Force – no one could have seen. The man beside her sister was someone she had not seen in over half a decade, a man she once held in high regard when she was queen. That was until he decided to shatter that respect.
"Long time no see Pad," Palo Aetos smiled from beside her sister. Hearing her childhood nickname, irritation etched across her skin – she'd always hated that pet name. She felt Vader inherently tense behind her, no doubt catching onto her emotions.
"Hopefully we aren't interrupting, I just wanted you to say 'hi' I know you haven't seen each other in years!" Sola chirped, taking a sip of her champaign.
Padmé blinked, "It has been years," the woman said to the curly-haired man, ignoring her sister completely.
"Lord Vader my apologies, my name is Palo Aetos -"
"He's an artist from Naboo," Padmé finished for him, she meant for them to sound kind, though there a sharpness that inadvertently laced through words. Noticing the hint of red that touched the man's cheeks, she could read in his body language that he was caught off guard. "Well thank you so much for this little reunion," the bride mused to her sister before standing. She noticed Vader gradually stand with her, towering to his full height. "We were just about to get some air; it's getting quite stifling in here."
Padmé watched the light in her sister's eyes dwindle before a hand pressed against the base of her spine, Vader escorting her away. Once her husband made a quick dismissal of the guards, the balcony doors shut behind them, leaving the two newlyweds to the brisk Coruscant air. Without even a moment's hesitation, Padmé turned in the Sith's arms desperately pressing her lips against his. Whatever the hell had just happened didn't distract her for a second, she still wanted him fiercely. His iron grip fell to her ass, roughly kneading the globes as he ushered her back. "Do we have privacy out here?" She wondered against his lips.
"Yes." The ache in the single word sent tremors down her spine. "But… we should wait till we are home, angel," he sighed, his thumb brushing down her cheek.
"W-What?" She gaped, "Vader please." Padmé pleaded, sitting there feeling him for hours, she needed him.
"It is not proper."
"Proper?" She found herself repeating, baffled.
"You deserve better than to be taken on a cold wall, Padmé," he rationalized, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. Rolling her eyes, she strode towards the balustrade.
"Then can we just go home?" She huffed, turning back to him.
"After a few more hours," he frowned. Closing the space between them, heat permeated through his robes. "Believe me, I want too," he admitted, caging her between his arms. "I just don't want our first time as a married couple to be here."
"I understand," she whispered begrudgingly, her fingers delicately fixing the front of his robes. When lips sought her own, her arms found their way around her husband's neck. Toying with tendrils of hair, Vader's tongue snaked into her mouth, his dominating presence looming as he conquered her, pressing them flush. She could feel how hard he was under his robes; the sensation weakening her knees as she inadvertently rubbed against him. She knew he was restraining himself by pulling away, their lips ghosting against one another.
"We should return to the festivities," he panted, his forehead nudging her softly. With a pout, she slipped from his grasp only to be caught up in it again. "Please don't be mad," he whispered above her ear.
"I'm not mad," she sighed, "I'm just… selfishly disappointed."
In peaceful silence, the couple returned to the ballroom. The symphony continuing to play as guests twirled around the great hall in bliss. Padmé inched closer to Vader as he guided them back to their seats. Part of her wanted to dance, however, when she saw Palpatine approaching them. She knew that pleasure would have to wait.
"I will return shortly," Vader whispered into her hair, his arm slipping away from her hand as he approached the Emperor. A frown tugged at Padmé's lips watching them speak for a moment, she should be pleased that she wouldn't have to speak with him. Yet, she was nervous watching them leave, Palpatine knowing the perfect moment to whisk her new husband away. It made her skin crawl; it made her uncomfortable not knowing how much the Emperor knew. In her mind, there was no doubt he knew everything – that's what worried her the most. How long would Palpatine allow Vader to demonstrate affection towards her? How long could they go on in bliss before reality came back with a vicious entrance. Finishing off the rest of her champaign, her eyes fell when they disappeared.
"You alright?" Palo voice wondered, snapping her from the hollow worry in her chest.
"Of course, I just need some air is all," she smiled weakly. Placing her flute on a nearby tray, Padmé quickly made her leave. Not even daring to turn back, she left the ballroom again, alone this time. Secluded, her back fell against one of the thousand pillars, the great cavern of the former Jedi temple as far as the eye could see. She was surprised how little the area had changed. When she first stepped foot there many years before, she felt like a tiny drop of water in a vast ocean. Just as she had finally found some solace, her ears twitched, echoes of footsteps approaching. Shrinking, Padmé peered beyond the pillar to see Palo searching though the dimly lit hall. The Senator reeled back like a viper, hoping not to be found. When she told him that she had never wanted to see him again when they broke up – she meant it. His presence at her wedding was probably something he had conjured through her ill hearted sister. Force, Padmé loved her to bits but, Sola always knew how to get under her younger sister's skin.
"Pad!" She heard him call, his voice resonant through the vast chamber. Padmé clicked her heel on the ground as she revealed herself.
"You know how much I hate that nickname," she sniped, no kind mannerisms remaining as she circled around the pillar.
A crooked smile tugged at his lips, "You never used to hate it."
"Hmm… I recall explaining to you several times that I didn't appreciate it. Yet, here you are," she sneered gesturing to him as she rested back against the marble, "Just ravenous to get under my skin."
"Is it working?" He hummed with a sly smile, stalking closer.
"Under normal circumstances it wouldn't but, then again this is my wedding night, and you are an uninvited guest."
"I asked your sister if she could get me on the list, I wanted to see you Padmé. We haven't spoken in years-"
"I thought I made it perfectly clear that I wanted absolutely nothing to do with you." Her words were crushing, resentful – expression mirroring her words. It was true, she would have been pleased to never see his eyes again. She had made an oath to remain celibate during her tenure as Queen. Palo had promised to wait for her term to end, yet one term became two and he couldn't stop himself from seeking pleasure elsewhere.
"You know that I never meant to hurt you. How could you even blame me-"
"Stop," she snapped, "Once again you fail to realize that I don't care anymore. Whatever motive you have – you won't succeed."
"Even if it is to get my childhood friend back?" He argued closing more space between them.
"Sorry, I just don't have the time in my schedule for a friend like you."
"How is what I did so dishonorable in comparison to what your husband has done?"
Padmé's eyes fluttered shut a moment, trying to contain the aggravation that etched across her shoulders, "He would never do what you did to me. I don't even need to be explaining this to you," the scoff left her lips effortlessly, trekking around him swiftly only for his hand to snag her arm – yanking her back sharply. "Get. Off. Of. Me," she seethed, her usual warm brown eyes sharp as broken glass. Perhaps she had learned from Vader how to send pure daggers of fear into someone's soul because his hand dropped her arm swiftly.
"You've changed," he whispered.
With a cruel smile Padmé dealt the final blow, "Unlike you, I haven't spent the past six years painting worthless pictures and frivolously spending my family's fortune on spice. For my entire adult life, I have fought for my people – what did you do? Cower and concede like the little bitch I always knew you were." When the words finally left her lips, Padmé found it hard to believe they had come out of her mouth. They were vulgar and just plain ruthless. It almost made her reel back and want to apologize.
"How are you fighting for Nubian people by marrying a tyrannical murderous monster?" He bit back, his body inches away from her own. Palo's gaze was unrelenting as his dark eyes bore down into her own. Analyzing them for a moment, it suddenly dawned on her that he wasn't sober – not even alcohol could make a man sweat and cause such pinpoints pupils.
"I really don't feel as though it is necessary to explain myself to you Palo… I need to return," she tried to respond in a cordial manner. Padmé became hauntingly aware that the situation could easy escalate. Leaving for some silence seemed like a good idea at first but when she felt a violent wrench at the collar of her dress - her eyes popped open as she was slammed into the pillar. A bleat escaped her lips as her skull cracked against the marble. Palo's body pinning her hands painfully behind her back.
"After all you've said, you still don't realize that you will be nothing more than one of his whores," the man snarled. Trying to wriggle herself free, a scream choked from her throat until it was briskly cut off, a hand smacking over her lips. Painful tears welled in her eyes, her knee flying to his crotch. He caught her strike, only to thrust his fist into her solar plexus sending her breathless to the floor. The air knocked from her lungs, she was coughing, sputtering trying to find oxygen. Groveling, her slippery fingers tried feebly to tug away. Yet as soon as Palo was there- prepped with the sole of his shoe flying towards her face - he was gone. Her vision was blurry, it had her mind spinning, hints of copper reaching her nose.
The rest came to her in pieces, Eryx and Njord ripping Palo by his arms from the floor. Vision wanning, Vader was then collapsed in front of her – hands racing to the base her skull while the other swept under her legs. In seconds, pain receded from her mind, vision sharpening.
"Padmé," her husband's voice pleaded, his outer robes were draped around her as he gathered her in his arms.
"I'm alright." Her voice was hoarse, weak, her lungs still grappling.
"Good instincts, my friend, I will keep the bystanders at bay," she heard Palpatine mutter swaying back towards the main entrance. Her body stiffened as Vader handed her off to Captain Lasky, the man's warm brown eyes lingering on her with worry.
"Take her to the Medical Center, I will be there shortly," Vader intoned, Padmé's heart thundered as Eryx and Njord hoisted Palo up against the same pillar. Pinning him as he tried to tear from their grip. The caring emotions washed from the Sith's gaze when he began rolling up his sleeves.
"Vader please!" Padmé cried, her voice cracking. He never turned back, Lasky not even allowing her to plead with him further as he quickly took her towards an alternative exit. The woman cringed, agonizing screams scorching her ears until the doors slammed shut behind them.
Blood. Carmine ink pooled atop marble. The viscous drainage finally seeping to the tips of his sheen leather boots. His knuckles burned, while his other, the metal had ripped through leather. The beast that resided in Vader was still patrolling, crawling at the surface of his skin. Enraged when his Master ordered him to let the man live – for now. Sidious stopped him the second his lightsaber ignited, ready to take the man's head. Aetos' face had been rearranged. Teeth missing. Eyes blistered and swollen, too battered to open. The man already looked dead. But Vader could still feel him lingering though the Force. His frenzied igneous eyes were narrowed as he watched his Master – knowing it was his power that was keeping Aetos alive.
"I would prefer not to make a larger scene than this has already become," Palpatine glanced to the guards nearby, "Take him to the headquarters. Ensure he survives till tomorrow." Then his eyes fell back to his apprentice, "Deal with him then," Sidious instructed, wholly apathetic. Eryx and Njord backed away as the Imperial guards collected the limp body. Vader never moved an inch as the man was dragged towards the back exit. "You need to make yourself decent before returning to the public eye, Lord Vader." Blood which had splashed was now desiccated, robes caked in the putrid substance. Vader's teeth could have shattered from the tightness in his jaw, his crimson saber still humming idly in his lethal grasp. With a hesitant shift if his hand, the saber at his side vanished back into the hilt.
"Yes, my Master," Vader replied, his voice hauntingly low.
"Eryx, go ensure that the Senator remains comfortable until Lord Vader's arrival," Sidious added. The apprentice's rage boomed, resurfacing hearing the order. His stature physically tensed until he forced himself to move towards the secret passages of the Palace. Vader struggled to hold back the growl in his throat as he heard Eryx concede to the directive. One that the inquisitor had no choice but to accept.
Buried deep inside the icy narrow halls, a roar bellowed from his chest – his fist shattering deep holes in the thick concrete. Pain swallowed his arm, splintering through his upper body as the durasteel sunk into his flesh. The pain was a perverse gift, allowing his mind to harness his emotions – providing him focus. The monster that dwelled within him receded, his mind clearing as he continued down the corridor.
Hearing the doors slam shut to his chambers, his eyes explored the dark room. The dress Padmé would have worn home was neatly placed at the foot of their bed. His attention lingered on his own robes on the back of the chesterfield buttoned velvet sofa – his gift for her hidden in the fabric. His teeth ground together as he began ripping off his soiled robes. The fabric stained and ruined. Without a second glance, he tossed them in the disposal port. Reaching the fresher, Vader only glanced at himself in the mirror for a moment. Misted and splattered blood cloaked him where his robes could not shield. His flesh knuckles were molted navy and indigo. Blood that was not his own baked and crusted like red desert mudcracks.
At the sink, he burnished his hands. Water staining red as it vortexed down the drain. Hands clean, he clenched the striated marble counter. He had been a fool to leave her alone for so long. If he had been a moment later, the wounds to her body could have left scars. Wounds that would have needed physical intervention before he could heal them.
In the shower, Vader let the noxiously broiling water scorch his skin. Eyeslids hammering shut, he numbed his mind while his skin screamed. Sidious had pulled him away to discuss what would happen after the wedding. His return to the Executor by the end of the month. The apprentice had felt the apprehension in her signature. At the time, his mind tried to only focus on what his Master was informing him. Yet, when the disturbance of her pain went rampant through the Force – he had to follow it. What he witnessed didn't only spike rage, but fear tangled his heart watching that vile creature's heel centimeters from Padmé's frightened, disoriented eyes. Vader couldn't even recall chucking the man away, his action went through the Force by his mind, solely. A rare command.
Within an hour, the sound of rushing water had ceased. Vader by then was shifting his new tunic over his shoulders, cloaking himself in robes before leaving. Commlink sounding, Vader didn't even bother answering – knowing his speeder was ready for him at the east wing exit. Trekking through the halls, he froze in place seeing Padmé's parents whispering to one another, worry evident in their expression and in their signatures. Vader had hoped they would have stayed with the other guests. He didn't have the time or patience to explain. Catching her father call his title, the man hesitated in his steps as he neared the exit. Hearing the internal strain in her father's voice, struck the Sith harder than he had anticipated. I wasn't there to protect her.
Vader found himself frozen in the middle of the gallery; his eyes fixed on the black speeder just beyond the veranda.
"How could this have happened?" Ruwee, questioned from behind his shoulder.
Opening his mouth for a reply, no words could explain his lapse in security. "It was my mistake." The gravity of his words, fell upon him like an entire star system. He failed, not even his wife for a full day and he had already failed her. He was a fool for not anticipating that she would wonder off to a more secluded place during his absence. He should have had one of his men follow her every movement even if she protested. Disappointment, fear for her safety under Vader's care. That was her father's reaction. "Thorough background checks and rigorous searches were performed for every guest here tonight – aside from yourself and family. I had not anticipated that Mr. Aetos would…" He found his voice trailing off.
"Palo did this?" Padmé's father gasped, "W-What – why?"
"He consumed something that changed his acuity before attending this evening. I had not… noticed." It was the harsh truth. Vader's attentiveness was so absorbed with Padmé, that when they were initially introduced, he didn't even remember that man's name. He was too busy thinking about the rosiness of his wife's cheeks from the few glasses of champaign. The small giggles that she had shared with him. Hell, the feeling of her hands entwining with his was enough to keep his abilities muddled for hours. Guilt. The sentiment thundered through him. He had been effortlessly blinded, weakened because of his emotions. He couldn't allow himself to fall prey to them again. Boiling down his thoughts, he succinctly continued, "I must leave. When there is news, you will be informed."
Within the next ten minutes, he is trudging through the medical center – not even requesting a room number as he tracked Padmé's signature like a bloodhound. Whether two rooms away or a thousand lightyears apart, he could locate her signature anywhere. It was as if feeling her destress had significantly attuned his senses, her presence more intense than any other being he'd met.
Arriving at her private quarters in the restricted wing of the center, Vader couldn't get himself into the room fast enough, ignoring the inquisitor waiting idly outside. When the door slid open, he saw the woman's eyes brighten a fraction. However as soon as the light was there… it faded.
Her eyes fell away from his, attention lingering on the window while her nails delicately tugged at the smooth and soft skin of her palms. "Please tell me he is alive," she whispered. Vader's jaw clenched, brows furrowing.
"He would have killed you," he argued closing the distance between them by a few feet.
"He wasn't himself… I just, I have never seen him that way," she breathed, coiling her arms around her legs. "I said such horrible things to him… I-"
"That still doesn't excuse what he did to you." He tried to hide the snarl in his voice, yet it didn't go unnoticed by the woman nestled more tightly within the sheets.
"I know that," she murmured. When her gaze fell for her fingers, Vader stepped closer witnessing her nose scrunch, jaw quivering. "Can we please go home?" She sobbed, hand collapsing over her eyes. He tried to hide behind his stoic façade, but he couldn't shield himself from his own black heart lurching. "I-I- don't want to spend our wedding night a hospital." Moments passed before she finally glanced up at him, perhaps checking if he was even there. "Vader-?"
"Are you in pain?" He tentatively asked, breaking away from her desolate gaze. Vader was finding himself unable to face the emotion pouring from her – unable to comprehend her sorrow the way he felt like he should.
"I don't care. Vader, please take me home," she pleaded, begged. Her voice reached into his mind, seizing his golden gaze back effortlessly. Vader was a moth, helplessly drawn to a flame as he stared. Never had he witnessed such a compelling sight. The rosy nature of her tear-streaked cheeks, her glossy eyes imploring him. His mind and heart were tangled. His customarily objective nature struggling to separate emotions from fact. He had spoken with her doctors during the brief minutes that it took him to get from the palace to the medical center. They advised him that she shouldn't leave till the end of the next day. Even if they had already performed the scans, they were still concerned about internal bleeding. "Vader please," she reiterated.
His eyes adverted themselves. Healing her wounds would put an end to her suffering and his own… They could go home within the hour. However, the risk that came with that option was too great. He was already apprehensive about his Master potentially knowing he'd mended her head injuries. Healing others was not the way of the Sith. "I take it you have spoken with the doctors."
"I read their report, heard their excuses. I am not sure as to why they are still concerned about internal bleeding – they are just bruises." Her voice became softer as she spoke, tenor suddenly dying at the last word.
Vader approached her without cognitively noticing. Onyx leather reached for the sheer snowy fabric of the blanket that cloaked her gently. His angel tensed when the fabric slipped away, a frown tugging at her lips as he eased up the thin white toga gown that had replaced her mulberry silk dress. Jaw clenching, golden eyes shimmered. He loathed the sight, his own battered hand ghosting above the molted deep colors that stretched across her front. I allowed this-
Two small hands reached for his own, "You don't have to do this to yourself," she whispered, her fingers feathering over his beaten skin. "It's not your fault, I-"
"It is my fault."
"It was mine," she confessed breathlessly, "It was my fault, not yours."
Vader shook his head violently, tearing his hand away. "None of this is your fault." The realization dawned on him that he wasn't only speaking about that night – but also every other rift that had tarnished their connection. It had always been him. Everything wrong between them, his burden alone.
"If I can't leave then… Could you please stay with me?" Voice meek and quiet. Shuffling herself over on the bed, his brows furrowed as he connected with her yearning gaze. "I don't want to argue anymore. I just-"
Vader briskly cut her off with a crushing kiss, arms guardedly tangling around her frame. Conscious of her injuries. When her lips melted against his and dainty hands tugged at the tendrils of his locks, his heart pounded with the desire to make her blissful again. It seemed like month had passed since the morning. He had never seen her so radiant, truly elated. All he wanted for her was those moments back.