A/N: This started as a thought exercise on my Tumblr to appease the plot bunny running rampant in my head. Alas, despite my attempts to indulge it, it has continued to plague me with more of its offspring. I have no intention (or time or energy) to write this into a fully realized story, but on the off chance that Life someday grants me the space to revisit this concept, I am posting these notes to preserve the inspiration. Consider this a glimpse into this writer's working notes. I'll consider this a bookmark to myself for future reference.
As always, reviews greatly appreciated.
Part I
They called her Lady Vader when they thought she was out of earshot.
But their whispers weren't as quiet as they prided themselves on - she always heard.
At first, the name was like a sharp knife's edge drawn along her soft, pale skin. She bled. No, she out hemorrhaged from such evil association.
No one understood the tight rope she and her husband walked to play the Empire right under its very nose. And to navigate such a precipitous wire under very public scrutiny added a pressure that would crush most couples beneath its clandestine, strenuous weight.
But they had carried heavy secrets since the start of their relationship that additional strain was barely of concern or notice to either of them at this point.
Like oxen under an overburdened yolk, they just put their heads down and trundled forward. Together.
So when 'at first' turned into 'on the regular', she embraced it. Her wardrobe darkened to blacks and deep browns to mimic her husband's public silhouette. Ironically, the more her fabrics shrouded and shaded her, the less severe her hairstyles and makeup became, as if softening her face could remind them of what really mattered.
She was love walking in shadow.
And so, eventually, Lady Vader became a mantle to be worn with pride.