A/N: Surprise! Extra update! I thought I'd just go ahead and post this now since I kept you waiting so long for the last update and since this story was originally supposed to be updated on Wednesdays. The good news is, the next chapter is already written and ready to go. I'll see you next week ;)

One week later.

Vader usually looked forward to the Imperial Palace's mid-summer celebrations all year. Collosal festivities that welcomed nearly the whole Senate and every Grand Moff serving the empire were always a night of near absolute freedom. In such active gatherings, the Prince would lose himself in the crowd, lost amongst a sea of revelry. Not even his father's sickly eyes could ever pick him out. It was rare for the palace to host such merriment, more so with each passing year his father hung on to the sliver of life still inside him. Usually, the grand halls were empty save for staff and droids. Lifeless.

Dull. But there was always this to anticipate. The one day not even Amedda could take away.

Tonight, Vader was in no mood to celebrate.

The Prince swallowed the contents of his amber-coloured drink in a single gulp and glared at the guests around him. What right did they have to enjoy themselves in his home when he felt so wretched? Force, he'd been so excited for this night. There were such plans he had in place... this was supposed to be the first hint of his reign and what was to come. In a throne room packed with Senators, Moffs and nobility, he was going to prove the empire was thriving. To promise a bright future led by their young, powerful new Emperor and Empress-to-be.

The Prince scowled again from where he lingered before the high dais of his father's throne. His throne by all damned rights. It sat as it always did - empty. Vader almost felt his eye twitch as he looked at it.

He sensed all the excitement around him like a thick black smog clogging his throat. Not even a brand-new whisky in his hand did anything to improve his black mood. Political galas like these were always bound to be boring, but usually he had the company of Anakin and Sabe to make the evening more tolerable.

The former, Vader hadn't seen or heard from since their fight. The latter… Vader spied the royal aide across the throne room, chatting energetically with a royal-approved cam-droid commissioned to capture the highlights of the evening. Knowing Sabe, the poor thing had a chore list longer than his arm. As if sensing his curious gaze, Sabe's dark eyes lifted, meeting his for only a moment before tearing away. He frowned as she turned her back to him.

That was… odd. Vader felt strangely snubbed as Sabe seemed to do her best to evade him within the crowd. Was he imagining it? She was a busy woman and nights like these ran her ragged. This wasn't about him… was it? Usually, his old friend would barge into his room before the party started, demanding a meeting of who she needed him to be seen talking to and when. Of which charities she wanted him to pledge his support. To beg him to drink lightly.

How he and Anakin would groan and sag as she droned on.

His stomach tightened. Who would have thought he would come to miss that aspect of the night?

Well, if Anakin wanted to behave childishly and shrug off his obligations, who was Vader to stop him? His brother could hide away and play with his new force-sensitive little pet all he wanted for all he cared. The Prince glowered into his glass before swallowing the drink again.

Force knew he would need it to get through this night by himself.

Everything about these festivities was a game. A calculated performance to display the wealth, strength and unity within the House of Skywalker. The polished images that would be spread across holo-mags for the next several weeks would quash any vicious rumours gaining traction from the mouths of traitors. Vader could shoulder it all himself. Who better than the heir to the throne, the future Emperor to reign over such an event on his own?

He would be sure whatever spies infiltrated the party this evening would enjoy themselves before reporting to their masters.

His esteemed guests, in their performative displays of loyalty, draped themselves in gowns and robes of reds and golds, hoping to gain his royal affection. To impress and amuse him. Such inconsequential things may have entertained his father, while he was healthy enough to enjoy them, but Vader only rolled his eyes at the sight of them all. Did they realise how easily confused they could be with his Imperial guards? With the curtains? The carpets?

Force, he couldn't wait to purge red from the palace when he came to power.

Soft music and dimmed lights danced within the throne room as people drank and danced all around him in swirling displays of grandeur and ambition. The obviousness of these people's appetite for power and influence was repugnant. He could almost smell their desperation. Suddenly, Vader's throat began to burn and he coughed, chest heaving for several moments. Wincing, the Prince cleared his throat and forced a smile for anyone who may be watching.

He had to be careful. Tonight of all nights, he couldn't let the galaxy see him as human, as fallible to any cough, cold or virus as they were. Vader had to be a God amongst men. A deity the people looked to for guidance and stability. He was not one of them but above them all and such a common display of sickness would only drag him to their… depths. His mouth curled distastefully at the thought.

A silver serving droid hovered by and the Prince plucked another crystal glass from its gleaming tray, determined to pour its contents down his throat until he felt numb enough to pretend to enjoy himself. But his hand paused mid-way to his mouth as a sweetly familiar force presence washed over him, wrapping sensually around his own so temptingly, he shuddered. Welcomed it. Embraced its warmth all around him.

Remaining in place as that alluring presence grew closer, Vader battled not to be overcome, but he never had been very good at resisting temptation. The Prince whirled around to observe the Queen of his every fantasy, the muse of his desire, the Nubian Senator he was willing to crown as his own gliding toward him. His heart stuttered in his chest. The very breath in his throat choked to nothing. Tonight, as with every other night, she was radiant.

There was something different about her.

Vader felt his blood heat as their eyes met. Gone were the soft sweetness of the pastel colourings from Padme's homeworld. Tonight, she was wrapped in a gown of glittering rose-tinted crystals. So unlike the superficial shades of crimson and wine surrounding them, she sparkled like a Goddess making her way through the parting crowd. It was distasteful to stare so openly, but he couldn't tear his eyes from the square neckline of the gown which boasted a tasteful view of the swell of her breasts.

Force help him… knowing what her pert, pretty breasts looked like was utter torture.

Three blood-red rubies rested upon Padme's forehead, the centre stone the largest of the trinity and led upwards into an opulent, half-crescent headdress of glittering gold which crowned her sleek, expertly curled hair.

Magnificent, his golden gaze feasted upon every inch of her, absolutely magnificent.

Keenly aware of the eyes of the room upon them, Padme slid into an effortless curtsey, but her dark eyes never left his. Vader was entranced. Breathless. Utterly ruined by this beautiful, sensual woman and she hadn't so much as said a word. "I hadn't expected to see you here tonight," he muttered as she rose to her full, albeit tiny, height once again. Bitter disappointment curdled in his lower belly as his eyes spotted the sparkle of a ring decorating her finger. On that finger.

Fuck, he was going to need another drink. Several.

Together, they would have been the very image of prosperity and power. Theirs was a union which would have steadied the galaxy for decades to come. Vader struggled not to let his jaw tighten. He would not show so much of a hint of his frustration... but force, it was difficult. They could have built a dynasty together! Instead, Padme sought out mere love, as if that had the power to last an eternity.

"Thank you for inviting me," she said softly, inclining her head for a moment, the movement attempting to disguise the gleam in her tempting eyes. But Vader sensed it anyway, the gentle sadness and pang of longing. "I – I wanted to see you… I thought that we should speak – "

"You returned my mother's crown," he spoke firmly, summoning the attention of another serving-droid. "I suppose I was to take that as your answer to my offer?"

He was so sure of himself after he met with Amedda. Utterly exhilarated and passionate for the first time in years. Since Satine had been in his life actually. It felt like everything in his life was about to fall into place. Even after his altercation with Anakin, from which his body still sported several deep bruises beneath his clothes, Vader couldn't stop grinning. He'd sent his mother's crown as a display of his passion, his intentions and enduring affection. What better way to propose a shared life together than a reminder of all he could provide?

He should have anticipated that Anakin would attempt to outwit him. Appealing to Padme's ambition and logistical mind was one thing… he should have gone to Naboo himself. Should have planned some grand, romantic display to claim her broken heart as his own.

Hell, he should have thrown King Thule from Theed palace and declared it hers forevermore.

"I'm so sorry, Vader," she breathed, reaching out her hand as if to place it on his arm but her palm paused in the slight space between them like she thought better of it. The momentary pause was enough for that damn ring on her finger to –

Wait. He caught her dainty hand in his own, lifting it for inspection. "This is different," narrowing yellow eyes flitted upwards in time to catch Padme's widen. The ring gleaming so brilliantly upon her slim finger wasn't the gargantuan engagement ring Anakin reluctantly threw toward her several weeks ago. His curious gaze examined every inch of the glimmering jewel as bitter envy swept through him.

Far simpler than its predecessor, the white-gold band was encrusted with sparkling, flawless diamonds all the way around but the true attention-grabber was the oval, Nubian sapphire. A perfect colour-match to the planet's wonderous lakes. Vader supposed it was a fitting piece. Nothing as grand as he would have slid onto her finger if she let him, but a pretty gesture none-the-less. Darkness curled and gathered like smoke inside his chest. He sneered as Padme snatched her hand free of his grasp.

"We chose it together," her thumb traced the shape of the glimmering centre stone of the ring. "Vader… I truly didn't want to hurt you. You – I hope you know that you mean a very great deal to me – "

Vader schooled his expression into a mask of boredom, even as the beast lodged deep within him roared and howled, demanding fire and blood to win its chosen mate. He reached for yet another drink, this time sipping the amber liquid as carefully as his trembling hand would allow. She didn't get to know how she'd rattled him. How bitterly she disappointed him. Not tonight anyway. There was only so much a man could take. "Congratulations then," he drawled, "I hope the sacrifices you make to stay with him don't burn you."

"There are no sacrifices," Padme set her shoulders, eyeing the gilded crowd before them. "He plans to leave the military and I'll leave my office. Once we're married, we're going to try for another baby."

Vader looked out at the dancers whirling around the room to fortify himself. Of course… of course, Anakin would bend and snap himself into whatever shape Padme desired if it meant winning her back. So long as he was the victorious one of them. His brother would give her anything she wanted just to stand tall above him for once. The very room began to groan and tremble, barely perceptible amongst the festivities, but he felt it, felt the walls shake to their very foundations as his power lashed out.

Anakin would know it too if he was here. If he was cowering in the shadows and waiting for Padme's return to his side, he would feel Vader's emotions, feel the rage roiling through him and know that he had won. Fury heated Vader's blood as he scanned the faces crowding the room, searching, hunting… but there was no sign of his brother anywhere. Was Anakin really weak enough to allow Padme to face him alone?

Vader let out a dark laugh. Dangerous. Lethal.

You're a fool, Anakin. A damned fool.

"You'll be bored out of your mind if you walk away from your career," he rolled his eyes. It took every scrap of restraint the Prince harnessed to keep him from lunging into the crowd and ripping out the eyes of the first unfortunate to glance at him. He tilted his chin toward Padme instead. "You need it. You'll be unfulfilled without it."

Let them see how deeply love ran when boredom, disappointment and resentment polluted the well.

If Padme heard the slight in his words, she remained unaffected. Vader almost shuddered when she smiled at him. Smiled with pity and affection. "You're right about that," she laughed, swinging the dark curtain of curled hair over her shoulder. "I do need it. My work is who I am… but in case you haven't noticed, I'm fantastic at what I do. There will be plenty of opportunities for me to explore, I'm sure."

"I – " Vader began but the graceful shake of her head silenced him as if she were a Queen commanding her loyal knight.

"I think… From now until I leave office, it would be for the best that we avoid each other," Padme declared. "What's done is done, but all three of us can only begin to heal if we take time apart. Anakin needs… I need space. If you require me for anything Senate related, Dorme will take the meeting and pass everything onto me." He watched the elegant sweep of her arm as she plucked a tall, crystal glass from a passing server-droid and sipped delicately at the sparkling champagne. "You will not find her knowledge or experience lacking, I promise you."

Ah. So there it was.

Did Anakin demand this separation? Or did she all too keenly remember the sensation of wanting him? Of desiring his touch? The delirious heights of pleasure he brought her to? Maybe she felt afraid that too much time in his presence would bring about regrets she wasn't ready to face. Vader understood that feeling painfully well.

Well, Padme could deny it to her dying breath but the truth stood. Fact could not be altered. She wanted him. She'd been wet for him.

And there would come a time, be it weeks or months or even years, when she would know that desire again.

"That is your decision to make," he nodded slowly and let his eyes feast upon her beautiful face for a moment. "You can do as you will, but don't hide from me, Padme. Don't shut yourself away just to please him." His fingers twitched to touch her, to stroke through the soft silk of her hair until she shivered.

"I'm not hiding from anything – least of all you," her eyes went wide. "This is my decision." Vader's stomach tightened, perhaps with frustration or disappointment or perhaps mercifully, the alcohol was beginning to take affect at last. Regardless, he watched her, didn't take his eyes off Padme's face. He enjoyed the way her brows bunched and her plush, full lips pursed in concentration as she fought to regain balance in this conversation.

"As I said, you don't need to lock yourself away," his gleaming eyes did not break their gaze from hers and the Prince thrilled in the slight shudder he saw race through her body. He sensed it too, felt it as if it were his own. Force, she was maddening. "I meant what I said to Anakin that day in the gardens. I made an oath and I am a man of my word. I won't touch you again until you ask me to, Padme."

Her breathing shallowed. Vader saw her breasts strain against her dress from the effort. But it was the burning in her eyes that captured his whole attention, the scathing heat and fury she used to glare at him was addictive. He wished he could bottle it. Sear it into his memory to revisit often. Force, she really was so pretty when she was angry with him. He saw her lift her chin defiantly and heard her growl. "Then you will never touch me again."

It took every effort to hide his smirk down deep as he stepped closer so their bodies were mere inches from each other. Force, he could feel her breath warm his skin as he bent at the neck, his lips just barely avoiding the shell of her ear. "Oh, Padme…" Vader whispered, "I will touch you again. And when you ask me for it… the pleasure I give you will be more than your body can stand to take."

Drawing in a lungful of her sweet, floral scent, the Prince groaned softly. When she asked him… he was going to devour her.

Padme drew back, glaring, as if he'd whispered pure filth in her ear. An angry red flush spread across her chest and cheeks, staining her moonlight skin with proof of her want. Vader only chuckled as she sneered at him, a weak shield if he ever saw one. "Don't say things like that to me again, Vader. It makes me uncomfortable. Enjoy your night."

Vader watched her walk away, the very picture of effortless elegance and grace, and swallowed yet another drink as his chest began to feel hollow and flat. But then… there it was… ferocious, familiar as an old friend… the rage. Blistering, merciless rage began to seep like lava through the Prince's blood, filling every wound and hole Padme's refusal left in her wake. He felt his body begin to tremble as his power surged and roared inside him.

How long was he to be refused what he desired? To be stilted and turned away like he was nothing.

No more!

If he could not have Padme by his side, in his bed… then he would grant himself his greatest desire instead. How long had he been ready? Waiting endlessly, wasting his talents and his youth as his weak, pathetic father clung onto whisps of power from his slumber. Vader watched as Padme slipped from the throne room, felt her force signature grow weaker as she left the palace and snarled.

If he could not have her, then Vader was going to have his crown.

Tonight.