Vader's Angel

By: wertman25

A/N: Please remember that this is an A/U, and the characters aren't entirely like they are in the films, but they reflect the themes of the saga throughout the story.

Background: It has been two years since the establishment of the Empire. Anakin and Padmé have never met. Sidious discovered Anakin when he was seven years old on Tatooine and has trained him as a Sith ever since. Vader is not wearing his life support suit but remains concealed beneath a hood, similar to his appearance in Revenge of the Sith. Vader is also older than Padmé in this story.

Please also note the time that has passed since I began this story. I still have a strong passion for it, as it played a huge role in my love for storytelling. However, I am no longer a teenage writer, and when I started Vader's Angel, I was a very different writer than I am now. That being said, I do not adhere to the basic rules of writing in any of my fanfictions. Since I write for both my career and school, fanfiction is more of a release from those constraints. I will use adjectives, thinking words, unconventional tagging, and all that good stuff in between. There may also be a few errors that I kindly ask you to overlook. This is a fanfiction, not a published piece. Thank you.

Those of you who have been here before know the drill; however, I do believe it's worth repeating. Please remember that Padmé is supposed to be childish to start this story, and Vader is very not Vader-ish. The point of this story is how they together help one another become who they are meant to be. So yes, they are not the characters we know and love until later. Give it a little time, folks.

Please be aware that this story is currently "under construction" as I am rewriting and updating the older chapters.

STATUS: Updated.

I do not condone any abuse, violence, or negative themes in this fanfic. It is simply a work of fiction and should be viewed as such. Vader's Angel is, first and foremost, a smut, and it is rated "M" for mature readers only.

Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own Star Wars…. or Anakin Skywalker… Which is a pity…

Author's Note: The deal with a publisher has fallen through due to creative differences. Because of this, I will continue my work here. This story will not be changed, only completed. However, my updated version will be posted to AO3 under the same username.

Chapter 1: Curiosity At Its Peak

A long time ago in galaxy far, far way…

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STAR WARS

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Episode I: Vader's Angel

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The galaxy has been engulfed by darkness.

The Galactic Republic is no more, overtaken

by the evil Sith Lord, Darth Sidious and

converted into the ruthless Galactic Empire.

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In hopes of ending this terrible reign of terror,

a group of senators have secretly created a

REBELLION against the Empire, that is now

struggling to survive because of the Empire's

Ghost and Emperor's apprentice, Darth Vader.

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While the Rebel Alliance continues to crumble

under the hands of the Sith, countless members

of the Imperial Senate, including the secret

members of the Rebellion, have flown to

Coruscant to celebrate the mark of the second

year since the creation of the Empire…

Senator Padmé Amidala wished she had a better plan than merely trying to camouflage herself in the farthest corner of the endlessly crowded Imperial ballroom, hoping that no one would notice her. The young senator acted as if she were nothing more than an average lady—and above all else, a loyal Imperial citizen—merely becoming one of the masses in attendance with no significant concern beyond deciding which cocktail to order or perhaps which Imperial bachelor to snag for a dance... Had she been anyone else in the galaxy, the simple scheme might have worked effortlessly, but the problem was that Padmé Amidala wasn't just anyone in attendance, and thus, her plan had failed before it even began. Given her rank, status, and history, she had never been one to blend into a crowd.

From the moment the beautiful young brunette entered the room, she could sense a number of eyes on her, indicating that she had not only failed to go unnoticed but also seemed to attract a great deal of unwanted attention. That's when a brave member of the blasphemous and heedless congregation stepped away from his group and approached her, invading her space and pausing just a few feet away with a strange look burning in his eyes. His gaze traveled her body, and he appeared to admire how her dress lay perfectly against her, hugging every curve in all the right places.

Padmé swallowed the lump forming in her throat beneath the stranger's lecherous stare, uncomfortable and humiliated. She looked away before her unease was mistaken for timid interest, and she would be forced to indulge the poor man's attempts at any sort of unwanted and unrequited acquaintance. She stepped away and took a small sip of her drink to calm her nerves.

Maybe I should have worn something more modest, she thought as she gazed down at the snug dark blue fabric of her latest evening dress.

Although she was no stranger to attention, as a senator and former queen, this was neither the time nor the place to accept such recognition, and she should have considered this when choosing her outfit for the night. She looked down at the dress again, noticing another man watching her with that same intense gaze she had seen countless times throughout the evening in the eyes of every man she had caught glancing in her direction. She fought back a sigh. As far as scandal went, she could have worn something much more outrageous to the event. The dress, though different from her usual attire, wasn't that bad overall. It was still relatively conservative and fell well below her ankles. It even had long sleeves and a collar that framed the area of her chest around to her neck in the most elegant fashion. It was just a slightly tighter fit than usual—something she hadn't taken into account when choosing the dress, but which she now deeply regretted.

She couldn't help but think that if she had worn something a bit more modest, she could have at least used modesty to her advantage, giving herself a slightly better chance to blend into the background of the party instead of attracting such desperate attention to herself. It was only after becoming a senator three years prior that Padmé had started to embrace more of her sexuality at these kinds of events, at least in simple ways like her clothing. No longer confined to the traditional ways that came with being a Naboo queen, with the gaudy, heavy dresses and ten pounds of caked-on makeup.

She hadn't cared much about the time-honored and customary rules during her time in office. The laws established by her people had been followed for many moons by many remarkable women who had come before her, and Padmé had been more than happy to follow in their glorious footsteps, rarely considering the repercussions. In the beginning, those rules had seemed the easiest to follow. After all, she had been nothing more than a child when elected as queen of her home world. A child without a womanly figure; without breasts or a monthly cycle. At that time, she hadn't even had a true thought beyond her future in politics. So why would she care if they dressed her in garish garments? Why would she care if they concealed her beneath heavy attire and layers of cosmetics, which, at the very least, helped protect her identity more often than not.

No, the rules had been easy to follow for a time, almost too easy, until she reached a certain age. It was around sixteen when a change developed within her. That change even manifested in her outward appearance as well. During a time when a girl truly became a woman, at least in the physical sense. When her monthly cycle officially began, and her body experienced all sorts of changes, like the emergence of round, perky breasts or the sparse hair growth in more private areas, all of which had been appropriately managed by the most expert staff in various ways. Padmé felt the repercussions then, while her peers of the same age could embrace their changes privately with friends, while hers were properly hidden yet broadcasted for all her staff to know.

Padmé knew it was silly to feel the way she did, but that didn't make it any less true. She ignored her feelings until the next set of changes came later on. It marked another new chapter in her life when all her peers acquired suitors, while Padmé was left feeling somewhat disheveled. She had had proper suitors too, at least after a point—far more suitable than most—but only one or two were more familiar than the rest. In particular, there was one who came to mind. However, nothing ever went beyond that, unlike many of her peers. There had never been more than a luncheon, a walk, or some other proper event with a sort of entourage. Perhaps there had been a time or two when the smallest of kisses were stolen in the gardens or hushed whispers exchanged before a goodbye, but nothing ever progressed further than that. She had never had a true relationship, or dare she say it, a boyfriend.

It was hard to acquire such a thing in a position like hers. A senator now, and a queen then. A queen had much more important duties than to keep space in her mind for such matters, or even more so, an open spot in her calendar. A queen was always busy with some kind of ordeal and was always chaperoned. Plus, she had taken certain oaths—oaths she intended to keep. The vow of celibacy. The vow of abstinence. The vow of purity. To abstain from anything that would threaten her cherished maidenhood until marriage, and marriage to the most proper suitor, no less. Even now, long after her last term had ended, she was expected to adhere to such a vow. To remain a perfect virgin, maintaining the purity and grace of a Naboo queen until she was wed.

Those vows hadn't seemed like the biggest ordeal when she first took them, but they felt like a hazard now. It wasn't that she had issues with the vows themselves; it was more about how everyone around her did. Padmé would have liked to keep such a vow and had no problems with it, as they aligned with her family's beliefs as well. Still, she had to admit it was hard to watch those she grew up with have such different experiences. Most of her friends had lost their virginity while Padmé had been in meetings with representatives. They had been able to flaunt their physical changes while hers remained completely concealed. Most of her friends were even married with children by now or, at the very least, had serious significant others, while Padmé was still at the lowest level of her political career.

Padmé sighed again, taking another sip of her drink. That life—the simple life of a mother and a wife—was always something she craved, if it weren't for the Force having other plans for her. That's why she would settle for at least the smallest bit of attention, because despite everything, she was able to be seen now. And the attention wasn't for the delight of the men or the hatred of the other women, but solely for her. Because she was a woman who was no longer hidden. She was a senator, if nothing else. Above all, it was a reminder to everyone that she was not a child.

"Good evening, Senator," another partygoer said as he approached with those same damn burning eyes. "Are you having a good night?"

"Quite. Excuse me," Padmé replied politely, taking her leave as she went back to her now-empty corner.

Her current strategy of going unnoticed, or attempting to go unnoticed, made her feel like a defel who had forgotten how to bend light to blend in. For she too had forgotten how. She couldn't blend in, not completely anyway, because at her core, she had no desire to do so. She didn't want to revert back to her old ways because she feared that if she did, she would lose the confidence necessary to make her superiors see her as anything but that foolish child who had blindly handed Palpatine the lock and key to the galaxy.

She pushed the thought aside and focused on her dress. Padmé could sense that some of her peers at the party were already displeased with her, but it had been a poor decision made for a valid reason, and she knew they were upset simply because she hadn't done it their way.

She liked to think differently about the matter because, technically, she hadn't broken any rules; she had merely pushed the limit slightly. They never said she had to wear anything modest, just that she shouldn't be social and that she was to try to blend in—two things she was trying to accomplish. She was both trying to be social and trying to blend in. It wasn't her fault that she was failing at the task. She wasn't as dumb as some believed her to be. She knew what she was doing and that she had to be careful, but she also wasn't going to show that she was afraid, nor would she bend for any reason because of the Emperor. She wouldn't give him any more satisfaction.

Everything had drastically changed in the galaxy over the past two years. This was no ordinary celebration; it was a party to commemorate the creation of the Empire, marking two years since "Chancellor" Palpatine had dissolved the Senate, transforming it into the Galactic Empire and declaring himself Emperor of the entire galaxy. Padmé glanced around the room, absorbing the happiness and excitement, the lies and the idiocy. The people celebrating there were either fools for following such an evil man—who was clearly a power-hungry maniac—or they were concealing their true feelings very, very deep down. Still, she was astonished that so many could find time to attend such a party while the universe was being enslaved. Where was their conscience? Were these people truly okay with Palpatine's takeover? Were they truly fine with the Empire? How could they be? How could they not fight back?

It had never been a question in her mind whether or not to fight; the answer always being obvious to her. She knew she had to fight. She could never sit quietly and watch the galaxy burn. She would never stop fighting for what she believed was right. She owed that to the galaxy, not just because she was a leader or because she too lived in that very galaxy, but because she had sinfully been a key player in Palpatine's rise to power. The newly appointed nineteen-year-old senator she once was had foolishly trusted the man she considered her friend and mentor, believing his web of lies and his promise to return the emergency powers she had supported and encouraged the Senate to grant him. At the time, she had complete confidence and truly believed she had done the right thing—the best thing for the galaxy—by giving Palpatine the opportunity to use his emergency powers to create "The Grand Army of the Republic" to assist the overwhelmed Jedi and, in return, to protect the Republic... but, of course, the action had all been in vain; the truth was hidden, and everything had turned out to be nothing but a lie.

After what she had done, she could only live with herself knowing that she was fighting back—knowing that she was trying to make a difference for the betterment of the galaxy. She would not stand for it. She could not support the Empire, and that was why she and her peers had created the Rebellion: a Rebellion against the Empire. An Alliance for what they believed in. In fact, the creation of the Rebellion was the sole reason for her attempts to blend in tonight, to go unnoticed by everyone in the room. As one of the leaders of the Rebellion, she could not afford to draw attention to herself by any means. It was far too dangerous. They knew that Imperial spies would be lurking around every corner, listening to every whisper, and waiting for any opportunity to pounce. Their goal? To locate the leaders, or worse, the creators of the Rebellion. The Emperor wanted nothing more than to bring an end to all who dared to go against him.

Her eyes slowly moved across the crowd, suspiciously searching for "the could be" spies—looking for anyone who appeared mistrustful, which was a challenging task all on its own, since that particular description fit three-quarters, if not more, of the packed room. Not to mention, she hardly trusted anyone anymore, leading the young senator to feel that just about everyone looked just as mistrustful and suspicious as the next. That was, until she spotted her dear friend, Senator Bail Organa, one man she still trusted faithfully with her life. Like her, the male senator hid in the shadows of the party to avoid drawing attention to himself. He, however, was blending in far better than she was, her eyes shifting to the evidence of her continuous failure: another man standing beside her, his gaze lingering on her body. Oh, joy.

Annoyed at herself and needing relief, she took a step toward Bail. She left the safety of her corner and ventured into the throng of partygoers, quickly making her way across the room toward him. When he noticed her approach, he greeted her with a smile, which she happily returned as she joined him in the shadows.

"Hello, Bail. Are you having fun?"

The man with darker skin nodded, lifting his drink into the air as he gestured to the room around them. "Who wouldn't be having fun?" he answered with a small laugh and smile. His lie was nearly unnoticeable, hidden perfectly from years of politics.

Padmé laughed too, replying sarcastically. "That's right," she said, stepping closer to him with a low, bitter voice. "Everyone is enjoying the party because he hasn't shown up yet."

Padmé watched as Bail's round eyes narrowed, his head nodding while his gaze scanned cautiously around them, hoping that no one had heard the emphasis he placed on the word "he." In truth, they both knew that no one had, as they were too far from the crowd to be overheard, but that didn't stop his vigilant gaze. After all, they could never be too careful—not at a time like this. She knew Bail understood that she meant the Emperor, the sick bastard who had deceived them all years ago. The elder senator truly grasped the bitterness she felt toward the Emperor and why her resentment ran deeper than anyone else's, which was another reason why Padmé preferred his company. Bail had shared in that terrible journey with her, witnessing the Republic crumble and, with it, watching Padmé's confidence disintegrate as well. A significant portion of her achievements faded from memory, overshadowed by her one misstep, with much of the galaxy believing she was to blame, a belief she internalized. Bail had told her this was far from the truth, but she could never accept it, and because of that, her hatred only grew. She detested Palpatine, and everyone knew it—even the Emperor himself. Although that made her more of a target, she wasn't the only one who felt that way. Even Bail, who rarely hated anyone in the universe, placed Palpatine at the top of his hate list, just like many others in the galaxy.

When he felt satisfied with his search, Bail turned back to her with a much more relaxed expression. "Arriving late to his own party," he mused aloud, almost mockingly, as he set his glass down on the tray of a passing droid. "How kind of him to keep us waiting."

"Impeccable manners, don't you think?" Padmé laughed in agreement, but her eyes filled with resentment. "If we're lucky, maybe he won't show up at all."

Bail raised his eyebrows in response, nearly smirking. "Now," he breathed. "That's a great idea."

They both shared a laugh, their amusement filling the small corner of the room and, in turn, attracting the attention of a young Chandrilian senator. Unamused, the young woman excused herself from her conversation and made her way toward the laughing couple. Bail, noticing her approach first, turned to her with a broad smile.

"Hello, Mon!" he said with a slight bow. "It's a pleasure to see you! Are you having a good time?"

"Quite," Mon Mothma said, bowing slightly as she moved closer to the two senators. Her eyes were filled with disapproval as she glanced back and forth between them, a look that did not go unnoticed. "Causing quite a bit of attention, aren't we?"

Here we go, Padmé thought, resisting the urge to roll her eyes inappropriately. A frown formed on her face. She opened her mouth to raise her objections but was silenced when her friend immediately came to her defense.

"Of course not!" Bail shot back, his voice low yet powerful. "I just thought Padmé and I could use a good laugh," he explained, trying to soothe the woman's nerves. "No one noticed."

His statement did not ease any part of the woman's disgruntled expression; instead, it provoked the opposite reaction, making her frown more pronounced and her disapproval grow dramatically. Mon Mothma was one of many senators who had turned against Padmé since the formation of the Empire, believing that the once powerful and intelligent woman was now nothing more than a silly girl with no place in politics. She even went as far as advocating strongly for Padmé's resignation, becoming increasingly bitter when Padmé's home planet and many supporters across the galaxy maintained their faith in her and refused to dismiss her as their senator. The vindictiveness seemed unending, almost as if they were all children in grade school—or so Padmé liked to think of it. Mon even appointed herself leader of the Rebellion, despite Padmé's initial idea—something no one besides Bail had ever acknowledged.

In truth, Mon Mothma had done everything in her power to make Padmé's life a living hell, taking every opportunity to push her towards failure—and unfortunately, Padmé had allowed her to do so. The young senator seemed to fail time and time again in ways she never had before, almost as if the cards had been stacked against her personally, by the people, by her peers, and by Palpatine alike.

There was a time when Mon Mothma and Padmé Amidala were peers, even close acquaintances, but that time had long since passed. Back then, Mon Mothma held nothing but praise and hope for the young Queen Amidala of Naboo as she transitioned to Senator Amidala of Naboo. She believed, and even broadcasted, that the young woman possessed courage, necessary stubbornness, and a heart of gold. She referred to Padmé as the next great senator of the Republic, someone who would make a significant positive impact in the galaxy and serve the people well… That was, until Palpatine turned against them.

After the fall of the Republic, Padmé tried hard to make up for her mistake, fighting Palpatine whenever the opportunity arose, even when others remained silent. It was true that Padmé had taken it upon herself to ensure his life and job were anything but uncomplicated. She had to admit she was good at it, despite what Palpatine might lead her to believe. She knew she irritated the older man, no matter how much he pretended otherwise, and that alone was a small victory in her eyes. However, such actions never came without backlash—backlash that Padmé could handle, even if other senators thought she had lost her mind.

They began calling her a child, rebelling like a self-righteous teenager who didn't like the consequences of a decision she had made. This was a funny statement to make when they were starting a rebellion themselves. In truth, Padmé was only trying to do her job, but as her peers continued to criticize her and the consequences weighed heavily on her, she had to admit she was starting to feel a bit lost. She had tried repeatedly, and yet seemed to fail, allowing herself to be crushed over two years, taking her good reputation with her. The Rebellion was her last chance for redemption, her final opportunity to be a woman and a respected senator in the eyes of her peers again… but she could sense that many of them already expected her to fail—expected her to be the reason for their downfall.

And the reminder made Padmé's eyes grow cold as she watched the older woman.

"No one noticed?" Mon repeated Bail's words with a sarcastic tone, raising an eyebrow at him. "I did."

"You were only a few feet away," Bail retorted, a frown crossing his features, refusing to let the woman blame Padmé for such a minor mistake. "There are over a hundred people in this room, Mon. No one noticed us."

"Yes," Mon sighed in response, the obvious mockery lacing her voice. "There are hundreds of people in this room: Grand Moffs, royalty, politicians, military leaders, and…" She paused, her expression hardening and her tone dropping. "Traitors," she finished, chilling the air before delivering another sarcastic remark. "Who would pay attention to you?" She let her comment linger, the weight of her words growing with each second. After another pause, she glanced around the room cautiously before turning back to Bail and pointing a finger at him. "Wait and see, Bail. You laugh now, but I'm sure even you will be investigated by the night's end."

Bail stayed calm, composed, and confident. "I have no doubt about that," he agreed without hesitation. "I'm sure we all will be."

"Yet you continue to draw attention?" Mon growled, turning her gaze to the left and fixing Padmé with a fierce glare. "If she weren't here, you wouldn't be behaving this way. I told you she wasn't ready!"

"I am too ready!" Padmé interrupted angrily, unable to hold in her comments any longer. I am not a child, Mon!" Unaware that her outburst did nothing to help her case, her objection made her sound like the very thing she was arguing against: a petulant child.

Mon glared back, her eyes shifting from the young senator in a manner that conveyed both her satisfaction and hesitation. "I never said you were."

Padmé nearly growled. "You don't need to say it," she replied. "I can read between the lines, Senator Mon Mothma. Your lack of support has made that perfectly clear. You may not call me a child, but you still treat me like one."

The woman did not try to deny Padmé's words; instead, she raised her face to meet the younger woman's gaze. "I have my reasons," Mon shrugged before taking a big sip of her drink.

Padmé opened her mouth to retort, but taking advantage of Mon Mothma's inability to speak, Bail placed his hand on Padmé's shoulder. "What Mon means," he said softly and kindly, trying to ease the tension between them, "is that she— we have to take every precaution. You have been on Naboo for some time now and haven't been on these political front lines. We are in a room full of enemies, which means any sort of attention is negative. This is very dangerous, and it is crucial that everything remains a secret from the Empire– even from ourselves if necessary."

"I understand that," Padmé replied, annoyed and feeling like she was being treated like a child all over again. Was Bail taking the woman's side? What did they not understand? She was ready! She was fit for this job! How many times did she have to prove herself? What would she need to do to be seen as an adult in their eyes—to regain her honor?

"I know you do," Bail said with a smile, attempting to comfort her as he pulled her closer. "I don't mean to talk down to you, Padmé." He paused, looking down at her with sadness in his eyes. "I apologize if I offended you by doing that, but I'm just trying to be sure. You are such a dear friend, and I don't want you to get hurt again." He offered her an encouraging smile, then dropped his hand and turned professional. "Mon is right, though. Every precaution must be taken. You are one of the targets because you are young and have made a mistake, so people will underestimate you."

"I'm human," Padmé retorted, a bit less annoyed but still feeling the need to defend herself. "I acknowledge that I made a mistake, and I've taken responsibility for my actions, but that doesn't make me weak or any less of a leader." She paused, her expression hardening as she looked at both of them. "I won't fail," she asserted confidently. "I am not afraid."

Bail appeared satisfied with her statement, but the female senator nearly spat out her drink when she heard Padmé's words.

"Ha!" Mon laughed, then turned to stare directly at Padmé with a bewildered stare. You will be!" she exclaimed, a hidden promise within her words. You will be!" She said nothing more before turning and disappearing into the many groups of people, leaving Padmé and Bail once again alone in their corner. They watched her go, a silence falling upon them before Bail erupted with another laugh.

"I think she likes you," he teased, and Padmé smiled, aware that his joke wasn't true.

Still, something lingered uneasily in the pit of her stomach. "What is she so afraid of?" she wondered aloud, not intending to actually ask the question.

She hadn't meant it in the obvious way. She understood that these were fearful times. It was clear that all the members, leaders, and creators of the Rebel Alliance did not want any information or their names reaching the Emperor. This was something Padmé had heard many times before, but not in the way Senator Mon Mothma had just articulated it. She was different—her fear was different. When she spoke, another kind of fear resonated in her voice, one that had not been present before.

"It's–" Bail paused, searching for the right words. He always understood Padmé's curiosity, for which she was deeply grateful. Bail, ever the supportive friend, helped her instead of judging her like so many others did. "There are supposed to be many spies here tonight," he said, his voice shaky. "She wants to ensure that no one—and unfortunately, especially you, because of your past—gives anything away while speaking to them."

That wasn't it. Padmé knew from the moment his words reached her ears that this wasn't her answer. There was something else, but a part of her urged her to let it go. So she simply nodded as confidence surfaced on her face. "I'm ready for this," she reiterated. "In case you've forgotten, I am a politician. I have honed the skill of hiding my emotions and important information while serving as the Queen of Naboo. I mastered the art of remaining cool, collected, and professional throughout my years as a senator. Just as you have. I possess significant experience that seems to have been overlooked by many. Whatever the new threat is that has everyone fleeing in fear at this party, I'm ready for it.

"I understand, Padmé. They understand that too, but–"

The sound of the giant ballroom doors swinging open interrupted Bail's comment, accompanied by a loud eruption of claps and cheers echoing throughout the room.

"His Majesty, the Emperor!" a man's voice proclaimed, prompting a surge of applause—until the cheers abruptly ceased and were replaced by gasps and murmurs.

Hearing the commotion, Padmé pushed herself onto her tiptoes, trying to see what had happened at the front of the room, but her short stature made it impossible. Even at her tallest, she couldn't see over the crowd, only catching glimpses of the flashing lights from the press standing far beyond. She hoped that the old man had suffered a sudden fatal heart attack, but it seemed unlikely that such a simple fate could rid her of such a vile monster.

"What is it?" Padmé whispered to Bail, hoping that his height would give him a better view than she had. "What's happening?"

It didn't seem like he did; his own face reflected the same confusion. "I'm not sure," Bail whispered, turning his head towards one of the speakers, listening to the crackling sound on the other side, as if the announcer were also in shock.

"A– And we have a surprise guest," the man finally announced, his voice trembling and astonished. "Lord Vader."

It was as if they had announced that Death himself had managed to get an invite to the party, and everything became cold. Lord Vader? Had she truly heard that, right?

"It can't be..." Bail whispered in shock, his eyes widening as all color drained from his face.

Padmé mirrored his shocked expression, feeling as if she had frozen to the floor, while her body battled the urge to faint. It seemed as if all her blood had drained from her body and the air in the room was crashing down on her. Had she heard that correctly? Darth Vader? It couldn't be! It was impossible! Why would Darth Vader be there? He never attended events. Ever! It had to be a mistake! Darth Vader wouldn't—couldn't be there.

Although Darth Vader only showed up after Palpatine declared himself Emperor, the Sith wasted no time making a name for himself. His name instilled fear in everyone who heard it. Every being in every corner of the galaxy, regardless of their age, species, or background, dreaded the evil Sith Lord, understanding that his mere presence brought only fear, pain, and death. Darth Vader was the murderer of millions, the destroyer of the Jedi, a vicious monster, a deadly ghost, the commander of the Empire's forces, the Emperor's right-hand man, and the second most powerful figure in the entire galaxy–or as some believed, the true most powerful figure in the galaxy.

Darth Vader was seldom seen in public— or by anyone at all. He seemed more like an urban legend or a terrifying myth, which was believable, especially given the evidence of his brutality. Palpatine preferred to keep the Sith concealed until the time was right, and as a result, there were more questions about Darth Vader than answers. Not that anyone was willing to seek them out; some people decided they would rather die than risk being caught in the presence of the Dark Lord, and those who were too curious often found themselves dead at his hands. The stories and rumors were endless, even longer than his list of victims, or so it seemed. Padmé had assumed that all eyes would be on the Emperor tonight, but after learning about the special guest, she realized she was mistaken.

While the room remained in a state of stunned silence, Mon Mothma broke through the crowd ahead, nearly sprinting toward them. "Did you know he was coming?" Mon Mothma hissed, terror etched on her face as she approached the two senators.

Bail didn't say anything, not even responding physically to Mon's reappearance. He continued to gaze forward without movement, too horrified or lost in thought because of the Sith's appearance. His lack of direct response was enough to imply his answer, although eventually, he managed to shake his head from side to side, letting her know that he had heard her, and like the rest of the room, he too had no idea.

"I thought there were reports of his presence on Jakku?" Mon pressed, her voice filled with anger and still struggling to believe the words that echoed in her ears. "Didn't he just take out a legion of our troops there yesterday?"

"He did," Bail replied lowly. "And an entire squadron as well."

"Then he can't be here," Padmé reasoned, as the factors added up to the impossible. They had even been briefed with the knowledge that Lord Vader would be nowhere near Coruscant at the time of the party. He simply couldn't be. "It has to be a mistake."

"It has to be," Mon actually agreed. "Maybe it could be a decoy? You heard what the council said. Vader has been hunting us nonstop for the past year. It—he—" She took a deep breath, trying to reason. "He just eliminated another large part of our forces. He wouldn't stop his hunt to attend this party, not when he was so close. He wouldn't give up his pursuit that quickly."

"He wouldn't," Bail agreed as his gaze grew serious, shifting to the women before him, his voice adopting a chilling tone. "Unless his hunt has simply changed destinations." He glanced over them once more before scanning the room and fixing his gaze on the other senators—members and leaders of the Rebellion. "Unless he knows where to find his next prey."

"Sith," Mon whispered, following Bail's train of thought, her gaze shifting back to the sea of people she knew surrounded the Dark Lord. "I've only seen him from a distance," she continued softly, unable to mask the fear in her voice. "During one or two Senate meetings that the Emperor had him attend, but that was close enough for me." She glanced back at her peers, scanning their faces. "Have either of you ever seen him?"

"I've met him a few times," Bail replied flatly, his expression unreadable.

"I—I haven't," Padmé whispered, unable to conceal the fear evident in her voice. It was true; she had never had the opportunity to meet or even see the Sith Lord, Darth Vader. She had been denied that particular pleasure, and while it was one pleasure she was content to forego, it still reminded her of the reasons she had never encountered him—because they had always found excuses to keep her away from the Senate. "But I have seen him on the Holonet news reports," she offered weakly, the false confidence in her tone sounding extremely unconvincing.

Mon growled in annoyance, clearly scared. "I told you this was a bad idea!" she hissed to Bail. "Especially if the rumors are true!"

Bail remained motionless, his gaze fixed ahead as he waited for the two Sith Lords to appear. "They are true," he said quietly, still devoid of emotion. "Very, very true."

"Kriff!" Mon cursed, glancing back at the crowd—toward the hidden Sith. "We're finished!"

"What?" Padmé questioned, fear evident on her face. She understood what it meant to be scared, but to actually consider their immediate downfall? She felt her heart racing in her chest as she glanced back and forth between the two elder senators, witnessing their terrified reactions to the Sith. She had never seen such seasoned senators display fear like this before, and now that she had, it unsettled her.

"He is supposed to possess incredible powers, even more extensive and powerful than those of the Jedi," Mon Mothma hissed in response, turning her face toward Padmé. "It is said that he can read minds."

"What?" Padmé nearly choked, her eyes almost popping out of her head at the unexpected news. "That can't be true. Can it?"

"Apparently, it is," Bail replied, his voice growing suddenly cold. "I've seen him do it."

Padmé's head spun with the flood of new information. Vader could read minds? He could really read minds! The very thought of this ability sent shivers through her core, chilling her to the bone. She had worried, to her alarm, that Vader was more powerful than the Jedi, given his extermination of them all, but even she hadn't imagined he could possess such powers. How could anyone survive against a force like that? Even Padmé had to acknowledge that, while she could wear her "political mask" like a second skin, it didn't extend all the way to her mind. Why would it? Her mind was her personal space. It was her sanctuary. No one should be able to peer into her thoughts besides her.

"What about his temper?" Mon asked Bail, disregarding Padmé's response as she sought vital information. "Does he have a temper like everyone says?"

Bail nodded, a single droplet of sweat rolling off his forehead, finally glancing at Mon Mothma for a moment. "I saw him kill a man just by lifting his finger," he whispered before pausing and turning back to await a view of the two men. "At the time, I didn't understand why Vader had killed him. It all happened so quickly, and from what I knew then, there was nothing to provoke him. Naturally, I questioned the Emperor about it later because I believed Vader's actions were unjust, but he strongly disagreed. That's when Palpatine revealed to me that Vader acted out of good faith and justice; that the man harbored many sinister plans to disrupt the peace, and that Vader had seen those plans within his mind." Bail released a painful, sad laugh, one that resonated in his chest and caught in his throat. "The man—Senator Kortito—had been one of the first to support and encourage the formation of the Rebellion. He wanted to be a leader like us, but Vader killed him before he could begin." He paused one last time, his eyes nearly glazing over as his thoughts wandered. "Imagine if he found us now. Imagine what Vader would do."

Padmé choked back her fear, burying it deep within her chest. Fear was not something they could afford, but it was hard not to feel it. "What does he look like?" she asked, wanting to picture the monster clearly before she saw him, hoping it would help quell her fear. She already had an image of the Sith in her mind, but it was blurry and lacked detail. Her vision drew from the images and videos she had seen of Darth Vader on the HoloNet, but the problem was that those images were hardly images at all. There weren't many of them, and in the few that existed, his face was always covered, and he was always silent, leaving almost everything to the imagination.

"Not much different from the holos of him, I'm afraid," Bail replied. "No one has ever seen his face." He sighed, pausing in thought and rubbing the sweat forming on his forehead. "Truthfully, I'm not even entirely sure if he is human."

"Anyone who has seen his face is long gone," Mon added. "Killed by Vader himself, presumably. Insights have suggested to me that he could be a strange, deformed creature from unknown areas, or possibly even a machine created by the Emperor himself to carry out his bidding."

"I would believe he was some kind of droid," Bail admitted, his voice heavy with sadness. "I can't believe, nor do I want to believe, that a living being could commit the acts that Vader has."

A wave of anger filled Padmé's heart before she could stop it, as she heard the blame shifting toward Vader and away from the man she viewed as a monster—a man she believed capable of committing as terrible acts as Darth Vader. After all, she had witnessed it. She was a victim of it.

"What about Palpatine?" Padmé asked, attempting to remind her peers of the other threat in the room. "He should not be underestimated or overlooked. We know he is human, and he is genuinely evil. From my perspective, Vader merely serves as his ruthless military pawn."

"True," Bail agreed, understanding Padmé's feelings but obviously having his own. But Palpatine is not like Darth Vader. Just as you said, Palpatine only commands the acts, but Vader enforces them. So, as evil as the old man is, he still shows his humanity enough, more so than Darth Vader."

Padmé fought back the lump in her throat, feeling the pain of what Palpatine had done to her. Two years might have passed, but the pain—the humiliation—remained the same. "I disagree," she growled, the memory burning in her mind. "He shows no humanity."

Bail nodded in understanding but did not concur. "Well," he breathed. "Regardless of our views, at least Vader isn't a liar like Palpatine. I'll give him that."

Mon nodded, moving her head up and down in agreement. "Yes, but then again, Vader isn't a politician."

"What do you mean?" Padmé frowned, her expression revealing her complete confusion and barely concealed anger. "I don't understand."

It made no sense to her. First, they criticized the Sith Lord, and now they praised him? What did they mean? The Emperor was the one who was a monster, a madman, and, as Bail had mentioned, a liar. She knew that from experience, and she hated him for it. To her, no one could ever be worse than Palpatine, not even the monstrous Darth Vader. But even she had to admit that if the rumors were true about Darth Vader—about his slaughters and abilities—then Vader had to be the most terrifying monster of them all, and an unredeemable one at that. She had understood up until that point—where the two senators had complimented Vader over Palpatine. This left her with the question: who was worse?

Bail turned to the young senator, again sensing her confusion. "Don't think we are complimenting him," he said, placing his hand on her shoulder before letting out a sigh. "Vader is a monster, just as much, if not more so than Palpatine. We are merely trying to convey that Vader doesn't disguise his feelings like Palpatine does. If you say something to Palpatine, make a proposal or a complaint, he will behave like—well, a politician. His approach is much more secretive and cunning than Vader's. Palpatine will act as if he agrees until you leave his presence, and only then will he command someone, most likely Vader, to deal with you. Darth Vader, on the other hand, does the opposite. If he dislikes you or your words, he will either tell you or eliminate you on the spot, not wait until later.

Padmé paled, her breath catching in her throat. And he considered that better? How was that any better? If Vader was killed on the spot, then that meant he was a man—no, a machine of action. It meant that he was not only not a politician but also not sensible and, in return, not a being of reason. It was his way or no way at all, no reasoning, and no negotiation. But deep down, was Palpatine any different?

She knew the answer to that question because she had been at the front lines of Palpatine's deceit long before anyone else—far longer than anyone else. She was aware of his corrupt and sinister ways. She understood the game he was playing, and although it seemed that Palpatine could now outsmart the other senators, he would not fool her again. She would prefer to deal with someone honest like Vader rather than a liar like Palpatine any day.

Taking a breath to regain her composure, Padmé gazed at the crowd. "So Vader is just brutally honest."

Bail let out a slight chuckle at her remark. "More like deathly honest."

"You know what this means," Mon sighed, disregarding their conversation and interrupting. "Don't you?"

"What?" Padmé and Bail asked together, their eyes shifting toward the redhead.

"That the Emperor is growing tired," Mon replied bitterly, crossing her arms and looking out into the crowd with a sickening glare. He didn't even bother sending spies because they take too long. That's why he brought Darth Vader instead. He can walk through this room without even questioning us and still know what we stand for."

"I agree," Bail nodded, his face remaining strong, though his voice seemed to tremble. "The Emperor wouldn't bring Vader into the public eye without a good reason. He likes to keep him hidden, creating an invisible fear. Revealing him like this does not align with his character."

"Not to mention," Padmé breathed, attempting to sound professional. "As you pointed out, it doesn't make sense for Palpatine to pull Vader away from his hunt when he was making such progress. Not unless he knows we're here."

"He's instilling greater fear in people," Mon added, her voice betraying her anger. "Not just us, but the whole galaxy. If people see Vader as a real threat, they won't join our cause. They'll be too scared."

Padmé frowned, knowing Mon was right. It was a problem they had previously faced due to the Sith — people fearing for their lives or too scared to fight because of him. Some simply embraced the mentality of "it wasn't a problem if you don't look up," but even then, Vader had always been a hidden threat to everything and everyone, a whisper in the darkness, not a being constantly visible throughout the universe. If he was being revealed, just as Bail had said, Palpatine must have a good reason: his reason being, as Padmé suggested, the Rebellion members in the room. Still, they had to hold onto hope. They still had a chance, and Padmé fully believed that.

"We must remain hopeful," Padmé insisted, her voice filled with confidence. "We still have a chance!"

Bail nodded at her statement. "We shall put up mental walls," he instructed, his voice filled with authority and hope as he agreed with the woman next to him. "Vader will not get any information out of us! The people will have nothing to fear!" He motioned for Mon to cross the room to where another group of Rebellion members had gathered. "Go!" he commanded. "Spread the word! Hurry!"

"I hope this works," Mon nodded before walking away, whispering under her breath. "Or we'll all be dead…"

As the senator vanished into the crowd, Padmé turned back to Bail, her eyes reflecting the anxiety bubbling in her stomach. "So Vader doesn't speak?" she asked, her concern evident. "He won't even question us? He'll just read our minds and judge for himself?"

Bail shook his head, attempting to control the emotions that were showing on his face. "I'm not sure," he replied honestly. "But Vader does speak. Not often, but when he needs to."

Padmé could see that Bail was lost in a memory—a memory that the man had obviously tried to forget but had burned into his mind. The emotions on his face told Padmé that Darth Vader's voice was not something she wanted to hear, and if she did, she wouldn't soon forget it.

"Is it that terrifying?"

Her question brought Bail back to reality as he looked down at her, giving her an encouraging smile through his sad eyes. "It's just… not something you forget," he explained before his hand came to her shoulder and gripped it tightly. "I have faith in you, Padmé. I always have, but you need to have faith in yourself. You will be fine. Like I said before, he hardly talks–"

"Unless he has to," Padmé said, finishing his sentence with a smile.

"Exactly," Bail nodded, eyeing her cautiously. "Or if his anger provokes him." His words hit Padmé like a ton of bricks, causing his hand to tighten around her shoulder before she could truly react. "Padmé, there's no need to worry," he encouraged. "This is what the Emperor wants. He wants us to be scared. Vader is here as a threat, a demonstration of the Emperor's power, but that's all. I've been in countless meetings with the Emperor while Vader stood beside him. He has hardly ever spoken. He is merely the protector and the intimidating force in the room, nothing more. This is no different from any of those meetings; there's no reason for him to speak, and we won't give him any reason to suspect us."

Padme nodded, feeling a small measure of relief, hoping that his statement was true. She tried to keep her fear in check, but as she looked around at everyone's reactions, she could see how much more the people—even Imperial supporters—feared the unseen Sith Lord more than the Emperor himself. It was a reality that she could hardly comprehend. Not because of the fear itself, but because of the entire situation. If it was true, and Vader was worse than Palpatine, then perhaps she had misjudged due to her hatred. Perhaps she wanted to deal with Palpatine and did not want anything to do with the Emperor's right hand. The thought of him questioning her, probing her mind, or even speaking to her made chills run up her spine and her hair stand on end. It terrified her.

Maybe Mon Mothma was right, she thought. I wasn't ready for this.

Her heart stopped in her chest as the Emperor finally came into view, the old man walking very slowly and nodding to the important personnel he passed. Padmé, along with everyone else, knew this gesture was merely for show and that the man had no real respect for anyone or anything but himself. He sat on a throne of lies, deception, and death, caring only about himself and his power. Still, the men and women showed him respect, and as Palpatine continued his slow walk, another figure finally came into view—a tall, black-cloaked figure following the older man's unhurried pace.

Darth Vader, Padmé realized, recognizing the black robes and imposing figure.

The room turned cold from his presence as people looked away, unwilling to face the visage of Death itself; but unlike the others, Padmé could not look away. She craved to learn—to see for herself what this man, if he indeed was a man, truly was. She observed intently as the Emperor and Vader moved through the room, noting every detail. Darth Vader donned his usual attire: jet-black robes that concealed every part of his body, while Palpatine wore traditional black robes—the ones he always wore to celebrations of his Empire. Yet, despite the similarity in their dark garments, the two men were far from alike.

Darth Vader was much larger, broader, and taller than Palpatine, as well as most—if not all—of the people in the room. The next difference was that Palpatine's hood revealed his white, pasty face, while Vader's extended further over his face, if he had one to show, creating a deeper shadow that revealed nothing but darkness beneath. Padmé tried numerous times to catch a glimpse of his face as he walked, but he moved with caution, ensuring that his visage remained hidden. Her next examination focused on his body, her gaze scanning his form for any sign of skin. She found none; Vader was entirely enveloped in black robes, with black gloves covering his hands. Upon closer inspection, Padmé noticed the black tunic he wore beneath the cloak, as well as the weapon hanging at his waist: a lightsaber. A weapon that was once used to bring hope to the Republic and its people, but now only conveyed darkness… and that was what Darth Vader embodied—darkness.

If it were a different time, a time of the Old Republic, the sight of Vader might have been perceived as that of a hero, a Jedi, but not anymore. Vader was no Jedi, and he was certainly no hero. He was a Sith Lord, and the black robes he wore served as a reminder of that. There were no Jedi left in the galaxy, only the Sith. There was no Republic, only the Empire. Vader had ensured that reality two years ago when he emerged from the darkness and decimated the Jedi along with what remained of them. He had taken everything, obliterated their way of life… and it was her fault.

It's my fault.

As Padmé continued her self-loathing and scrutiny of the Sith, the party went on as planned, with everyone gradually getting over the shock of the surprise guest and deciding to continue their celebration. It took some time, but the guests even began to stop avoiding him as if he were the plague, instead just accepting his presence. Of course, everyone kept their eyes on him, but Vader surprised them all by behaving exceptionally well and nothing like the tales told about him. He walked silently behind the Emperor, occasionally pausing to place his hands behind his back or on his belt while the Emperor spoke with someone of importance. Bail, Padmé, Mon, and the other senators of the Rebellion recognized this as all a deception—a facade. Although he seemed merely a bodyguard, they knew that Darth Vader was hunting for them, and his good behavior was just a performance for the press—a way to portray these two men as respectable and to suggest that the Empire was indeed a force for good.

The night crept by slowly, and after three hours into the party, Padmé sighed in relief as it was near the end of the dreadful celebration. Thankfully, the Emperor and Darth Vader still showed no interest in her. Even more wonderfully, they had not approached her at all during the entire night. This both soothed her nerves and gave her the opportunity to watch and learn. She observed them throughout the night—how Vader struck fear into every soul he approached, and how Palpatine smiled in response, knowing that the people feared him and his apprentice. She also noticed that although Vader was huge and terrifying, he was nothing like the reports or rumors she had heard. Unlike the monstrous beast depicted in the reports, Vader acted like a complete, dare she say, gentleman throughout the party. This made Padmé question the rumors about Darth Vader. How could they be true? Was it possible the stories were just that—stories someone made up to instill fear like a child's bedtime story?

"Are you okay, Padmé?" Bail asked, noticing the frown on her face as her emotions slipped through her features.

Padmé nodded and shook off her thoughts. "Yes..." she breathed. "I'm afraid I got lost in thought."

"Oh?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "What about?"

Padmé's frown deepened as she felt even more confused. "He's just..." Padmé whispered, almost laughing at herself. "He just doesn't seem like a monster. He looks like one, but this isn't how I expected Vader to be at all." She paused to think through her words before settling on something simple. "He is acting so civilized," she concluded. "It's just not what I expected."

Bail nodded, understanding her comment in response to the show she had been watching all night. "Vader is on his best behavior," Bail remarked. "But don't underestimate him, Padmé. He is very dangerous and powerful. Palpatine probably commanded him to act this way. They want to fool people, confuse them, and have them let their guard down. You said it yourself; they shouldn't be underestimated. Vader may not seem like a monster, but he is. I promise you that." He glanced down at her, hoping his words had helped, but he could still see the questions fresh in her mind. Taking a deep breath, he continued, trying to provide some clarity. "Padmé?" he asked. "You've attended previous parties for the Empire, correct?"

"You mean official parties?"

"Yes."

Padmé shook her head; for some reason, she had purposely missed the last anniversary party—and the one before that, and the one before that. This was also her first, and hopefully last, time attending the annual celebration for the creation of the Empire, having missed the first year for the reason of being the guest of honor.

"Well," he responded, a strange emotion passing through his eyes before completely responding. Then you and Vader have something in common. As you know, like yourself, Vader is never an attendee at such things. Although he does, on occasion, or so I am told, make a habit of going to some of the military galas. "

Padmé frowned, disliking the idea of anything resembling Vader and struggling to understand her friend's perspective. "What's your point, Bail?"

He shrugged, almost as if he didn't know the meaning of his own words. "I suppose," he began slowly and uncertainly. "I mean to make the point that Vader is often on Coruscant, yet no one ever sees him—not even at official events, which is somewhat strange for a man of his rank." He paused, gesturing around them and to the buildings outside. "He has an Imperial base here, and from what I understand, when he's not on missions, he has daily meetings with Palpatine."

"Daily?" Padmé frowned, her voice revealing that she knew Palpatine almost lived in the Senate building—the same building she had also nearly called home, until recently, anyway. "I've never seen him?"

"Exactly my point," Bail replied. "No one ever does, unless Palpatine wills it. Unless Palpatine needs him for some kind of intimidation factor."

"You've seen him," Padmé challenged.

"I have," he agreed without hesitation. "But I needed to be intimidated because I was a threat. And," he added quickly, "I also said I've seen a glimpse into his true nature." He glanced around the room before looking back at her, his face tense. "There was a reason Vader appeared at the creation of the Empire and has hardly been seen since. You've heard the rumors and the reports. Vader is a mad dog. He can't be in the public's eye, which works in Palpatine's favor. Plus, I think Vader likes it that way anyway, causing fear from the shadows."

"But you said he was here often," Padmé questioned again, still puzzled by her friend's words. "How can that be true?"

"Vader has been busy tracking us down," Bail agreed. "But something tells me that Palpatine prefers to keep Vader close—hidden, yet near."

Padmé nodded, feeling foolish for expressing her thoughts and for still not understanding. It made her feel weak and stupid—like the child her peers believed she was. Not only was she acting unprofessional, but she was also being deceived by Vader's charade, just like many fools in the room. Of course, everyone still feared him, but his behavior made them question things, second-guess themselves, lower their defenses, and most importantly, let him in.

"He hasn't acknowledged anything or anyone all night," Padmé remarked, her gaze returning to the Sith standing behind his master. "It's as if he's walking in an empty room."

"He is very well trained," Bail explained. "Just because it may seem like he isn't paying attention doesn't mean he isn't. He has probably looked into your mind countless times by now."

Padmé quivered at the thought. It struck her as odd that a man– a monster who hadn't even acknowledged her existence—had already glimpsed into her mind. She was sure she had hidden the information well, but if he hadn't detected that within her thoughts, what else had he seen? What had he uncovered within others' minds? He couldn't have found any information if he was still walking around unaffected… right?

She watched him once more, observing as he shadowed the smaller man, resembling a dark, ancient protector or the Shadow of Death approaching an unsuspecting man. She noted his almost inhuman actions and lack of responses. The power he held over everyone in the room was palpable, not overtly displayed but whispered in his every stride, every moment, and his very presence. He appeared nearly inconceivable, just as the rumors and HoloNet reports suggested, yet this time, he stood right before their eyes.

Unable to stop herself, she sighed while speaking her mind again. "He doesn't even seem real," she said, lost in her thoughts. "I could hardly imagine him before, and now that I see him, I can barely comprehend it. He just seems so mythical. So… inhuman."

"Oh, I understand, and that very fact is why so many people believe he is just a machine," Bail quipped before he laughed humorlessly. "I thought the idea was ridiculous until after I met him." He shook his head, meeting her gaze. "Now, I question everything about him. He isn't just intimidating; he is something beyond comprehension. His very presence is unimaginable. He is quite impassive, lacking feelings or emotions for that matter—except for anger. Aside from his display of anger, he comes across as very inhuman, and—

"Ahhh..." an older voice cracked. "Senator Organa."

Both senators paused at the sound of the elder voice, turning toward the pair approaching them. Immediately, Bail composed himself, faking a smile and bowing his head in false respect. "Emperor Palpatine, an honor."

Ignoring Bail's comment, the Emperor turned to Padmé, a large, unsettling smile on his face. "And," he breathed, "Senator Amidala."

Padmé followed Bail's lead, suppressing her sickness due to his proximity, before faking a smile as she bowed. "Your Majesty."

"It's so great to see you," he continued, pushing the conversation forward despite Padmé's clear disinterest and evident bitterness. "It's been sometime since I've had the chance to talk to you outside the Senate's walls. I always enjoy speaking with someone from home—especially someone like you, who has been so significant to my career's endeavors."

"I feel exactly the same," she replied, the words burning her lips as she tried to control her anger, knowing he was trying to provoke her. "I do apologize for my lack of socialization. I'm afraid I've been quite busy."

His smile vanished, yet he let out a cackle, his eyes darkening. "I have no doubt." He then turned to the Sith behind him. "Vader," he beckoned the still Sith, making both Bail and Padmé go pale. "Were you aware of Senator Amidala's significance in my ascent to power? That without her, neither of us would be in the position we are today?"

She ignored the fire burning through her body from the harsh reminder, using the opportunity to forget about the Emperor and shift her attention to the vast darkness looming behind the older man. Vader didn't respond to Palpatine's comment, yet her heart began to race more quickly and forcefully against her chest as she finally realized she was in the presence of the monstrous Ghost of the Empire, Darth Vader. He didn't acknowledge them, as expected, remaining still and almost lurking, silent as a dead man. His proximity made her breath hitch, as she truly took in how massive he was for the first time, feeling firsthand the true strength of the darkness surrounding him. Silently yet curiously, she glanced at his face, seeing nothing but darkness beneath the black hood. Instead of terror, a different emotion coursed through her veins—a warmth even. Though she knew she shouldn't, she spoke to him.

"Lord Vader," she said respectfully, her voice surprisingly smooth as she bowed her head. "I believe I've been deprived of the pleasure. It's an honor."

She didn't expect him to respond, and even more, she didn't understand why she had greeted him at all. The strange feeling came and went before she could even explain it. It had surprised her, but even more so when Vader actually responded.

After her comment, Darth Vader moved for the first time during the entire night, his head rising as if in surprise—or perhaps out of sheer bewilderment. It was an automatic response, she could tell. She had said his name, and he had reacted to it. She could only guess that it was a matter of him not expecting her greeting, having received no acknowledgment the whole night, unlike the others who feared and dreaded his presence but hadn't recognized him directly. His head dropped almost instantaneously; the moment lasted only half a second, and everyone around missed it—everyone except Padmé. A second was all she needed. In that brief moment, Vader had turned his head, and Padmé hadn't overlooked it… unlike the conversation unfolding between Emperor Palpatine and Senator Bail Organa.

"… of course, we will both keep our ears open for you, my Lord," Bail concluded, bowing slightly to the Emperor, bringing an end to a conversation that Padmé had entirely missed.

Realizing she had missed an entire conversation with the Emperor made her heart drop. If she missed an entire conversation, how long had she been watching Vader? No. How long had she been staring at Darth Vader? And more importantly, had anyone noticed? Looking around, thankfully, it didn't seem like it.

"You have our deepest gratitude," Emperor Palpatine replied, masking his words with a feigned expression of sincerity. "It's always a pleasure, Senator Organa." He paused, casting a sinister glance toward Padmé with a wicked smile. "Senator Amidala."

The Emperor slowly turned and started to walk away, with Vader following closely behind. It was a pleasing sight, even more enjoyable knowing that the conversation had come to an end. Silently, she thanked her lucky stars for having managed to get through the brief meeting with the Emperor and Vader, although she wasn't mentally present for most of it. Still, she rejoiced. It seemed that the night would conclude without a single person getting hurt…

Or so it seemed.

The thought came far too soon, causing an absolute jinx, as everyone shared the sentiment of being safe from Vader's wrath. A young man, likely in his early thirties, had too much to drink and stumbled into the Dark Lord. He had been laughing and was too intoxicated to realize the direction he was going until it was too late, colliding into the Sith's back and spilling his glass of dark wine down the Dark Lord's black cloak. As it happened, the whole room froze; the music fell silent, and gasps echoed through the air as their eyes widened at the scene. Palpatine paused, barely throwing a glance over his shoulder, while Vader remained still for a long moment, the anticipation choking everyone in the room until he slowly turned to face the man.

Realizing who he had bumped into, the man took a quick, large step back, even in his drunken state, knowing he was looking death in the face. "L– Lord Vader, I a–am terribly sorry," he mumbled, bowing his head unsteadily. "I didn't mean… I didn't see… I–"

"Are you blind, or simply as unintelligent as you appear?" Vader's voice growled.

The sound of his menacing voice roared throughout the room and would have caused every guest to hush, if they hadn't already been silent. Every pair of eyes moved to the Sith, mesmerized by fear, waiting for Vader's next move, knowing that if any of the stories were true, the young man would not see another light of day.

"N–no! I mean yes," the drunken man stumbled, confused and frightened. "I didn't mean to—I'm—I'm sorry. You just were in my–"

"So now you're blaming me?" Vader hissed, stepping closer to the man, who had to look up at the Sith to account for Vader's towering height.

"No, no, no!" the man exclaimed, swinging his arms and spilling more wine onto Vader's already damp and stained cloak.

Abruptly, Vader's gloved hand clamped down on the man's neck, effortlessly lifting him into the air. The act appeared like an optical illusion, making the man seem as light as a feather in Vader's firm grasp. Suspended in the air, the man dangled helplessly, his feet above the ground as his airway constricted, and he gasped for breath, clawing at Vader's gloved hand in a desperate attempt to escape. The sight elicited a dark chuckle from Vader, echoing through the room as onlookers watched helplessly.

"You seem troubled," Vader whispered as he tightened his grip on the man's neck, sensing his insides start to give way under the pressure. "Perhaps I should ease your burden."

"No... Pl—Please..." the man attempted to beg, gradually slipping into an unconscious state.

Vader was amused by the man's pain, and everyone could sense it. He took pleasure in making the man suffer, relishing the act of stealing away his life. It was as easy as–

"Stop!" Padmé screamed, unable to endure the sight any longer. She didn't care that everyone else remained silent. She would not stand by quietly while she watched a man get murdered before her eyes. She was a senator! She was meant to protect the people—to prevent crimes like this!

Vader's head snapped toward her after her interruption, but he said nothing. It was obvious that, without even seeing his eyes, she could tell—feel that he was glaring at her, not to mention the other hundred people in the room who shared the same shocked expression. It was almost enough to make her step back into line. Almost. But she stood her ground and took a deep breath, knowing there was no turning back. She stepped forward into the empty circle formed around Vader and felt Bail move behind her, gripping her hand tightly, either out of fear or support. She couldn't tell which, and she didn't want to know, only aware it was too late to stop. Her stance was firm, and her eyes were already Vader's prisoners, locked and transfixed upon him. She gazed into the hood, at the darkness concealing his face, with no fear in her eyes—no way back.

"Please," she whispered, her voice tinged with sadness. "Lord Vader, I beg you, put the man down."

Vader's head was still turned toward her, and though his body was motionless, his hand tightened as if in retaliation, with the man gasping once again.

She realized that begging would get her nowhere, but she didn't know if anything would. She decided to fight on, catching the eyes of Palpatine as he smiled at her, his pale features alight with amusement. The sight reignited the flame within her soul, affirming that she could not submit.

"Lord Vader!" she commanded, her voice now strong and confident, sounding like a true leader. "This is not a battlefield; this is a celebration for the Empire, of which this man is obviously a guest. As a member of the Imperial Senate, I must say that your actions are simply appalling. I will not say this again: put him down now!"

She heard people snicker around her, laughing at her attempt to stop Vader. She knew they thought it was hopeless to beg and even more foolish to command, for he was the second most powerful man in the galaxy and a killing machine. So, why would he be persuaded by a simple young girl? She didn't know if he would, but in that moment, she had to try. She had tried. She had stood up for what she believed in, unlike the others who remained silent in the room, and she was proud. She was proud of herself for what she had done. She was proud… until she looked around the room. Her triumph lasted no longer than thirty seconds before she looked around and realized the embarrassment she had caused herself—again. She could feel the elder senators' stares, their undermining feelings, and Palpatine's delight as she caught a glimpse of his widening smile. Her confidence shattered once more, realizing yet another mistake that would cost her reputation again.

A small final "please..." slipped from her lips as she closed her eyes, a desperate and shattered plea. She chose not to look; unable to witness another one of her well-intentioned efforts go awry.

"Idiot girl..." she heard Mon's voice cut through the whispers, driving the final nail into her already sinking coffin.

Why did I do that? Padmé wondered painfully to herself, her questions and self loathing fueling together. Why do I do this to myself? Why am I such a fool? Why do I act like the child they want me to be? Vader would never–

A loud, plump echo reverberated through the room, followed by an audible series of gasps that made Padmé open her eyes. Confused, she glanced toward the crowd, then to the Sith Lord, and finally to the floor—or more specifically, to the shocked expressions of the onlookers, then to the empty grasp of the Sith Lord, and then to the man lying on the floor. Her eyes widened at the sight before her, at what Vader had done, for he had committed the unthinkable. He had let the man go. The man was no longer in Vader's grip, but lay practically unharmed, breathing heavily on the floor.

Could it be true? Padmé's shocked, wide eyes turned to the Sith Lord, who stood still, gazing down at his spared prey. Did he hear me?

His head snapped toward her instantly after her thoughts, as if she had said something to offend him. She could feel the coldness and death in his hidden glare—the glare that was fixed solely on her—and for a moment, she felt the ghost of a hand brush against her neck.

Her eyes widened in shock at his action as she was compelled to meet his hidden gaze. It was only then that she realized she had offended him because she had spoken her thoughts to him. He had heard her, or at least that was her only explanation.

Did he hear me? her mind asked, unable to suppress the impending thought.

A low growl erupted from his chest as he raised his hand, seizing an invisible object and hurling it across the room. To everyone's shock, however, the object turned out not to be invisible but the drunken man himself. Padmé and the others watched in astonishment as the drunken man soared into the air, imitating Vader's gesture. He slammed against the wall with a loud thud before collapsing to the floor, lying motionless, and presumably lifeless. Padmé's gaze darted between the Sith and the fallen body, observing as several men and women fled for cover, fearing they might be his next target. Vader, however, had no intention of lingering. He turned and stormed out of the room without another word, his black cloak billowing behind him triumphantly as he exited the party.

Emperor Palpatine, unlike the others, did not react to the scene that had just unfolded before him. He merely shrugged it off before walking toward the exit, smiling contently at what Vader had done and causing Padmé to feel ill. When he reached the doorway, he turned back to the people inside, those who were still shocked and startled by the scene they had just witnessed. His gaze lingered on Padmé for a second longer than on the others.

"I must be off," Palpatine announced as his red guards gathered at his side. "It seems Vader has had enough of this party, and so have I. I must say, I think it would be wise for all of you not to upset him again." The old man smiled one last time, taking in the flourishing fear within the ballroom, before he turned and exited the room.

As he vanished, Padmé exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, then turned, avoiding the gaze of everyone in the room.

Vader was furious. No, he was beyond that. He was seething. Never in his life had he been forced to deal for so long with such imbeciles and simpletons. It was outrageous! He would prefer the sanctuary of a battlefield to the tortures of a civilized social function any day. To endure the agony of so many brainless, moronic, and downright traitorous minds at once was nearly unbearable, if it hadn't been for the pleasure of knowing what was to come next. If Vader had his way, the entire room would be grounds for extermination, and the Empire would finally start anew. Even those who considered themselves loyalists to the Empire, and therefore believed themselves safe from his wrath, were sadly mistaken. In Vader's mind, they were scum, just like all the rest.

He had fought to keep it together all night, playing his perfect role in his master's scheme. Although Vader himself had doubts about his presence during the night, he found himself somewhat surprised when the night finally came to an end. Those in attendance were fools, to be sure, but it was easy to forget about the passage of time or even other matters on his mind when he was busy navigating their punished minds. He usually passed time this way, completely dedicated to his mission at hand. This one had been no different.

That was until one tiny slip on his part. Vader nearly growled in annoyance, the hot taste of failure on his tongue. In his defense, it had come at the end of the night, after he had grown tired of simply playing the role of his master's composed right hand and probing the minds of those he had already condemned. The man in question had annoyed Vader more than once during the night with his piercing, lustful thoughts. The loud ideas screamed so loudly that even Vader found it hard to ignore them. On more than one occasion, Vader considered ending the man throughout the night.

It would have been almost too easy to kill the man while Vader looked in another direction. Surely, none of those fools would have expected him, as he remained on the opposite side of the room with his back to the scene. It could have even been amusing—to have the man accidentally fall onto a sharp object, causing the wine to lodge in his throat. Not even the best medical physician would be able to tell the difference between an act of his power and an accident, nor would the witnesses either.

But that's not what had happened. Instead, Vader had chosen to obey his master's wishes until that man decided to literally test Vader's last nerve. His hand curled at his sides as he recalled the feeling of the man's neck crunching in his grasp. How easy it would have been to crack his windpipe, to shatter the bones, to take his life. He wished he had. He wished he had killed him and that ridiculous young senator as well—Amidala. Such a fool, too.

Her kindness ran deeper than the rest, a purity that was absent in the others. Although he conceded that this made her a somewhat less despicable politician—at least more so than most—it also rendered her even more of a fool. He hadn't needed to look into her mind to know her hatred for the Empire, thus making her guilty by association with the sympathy for the Rebellion before his investigation had even begun. He and his master had known she was associated for months, and although he hadn't seen her personally, he remembered her face well from his master's mind. His master had a complicated thought process regarding the girl, to say the least; he despised her while also holding her in the utmost importance. More often than not, he wondered if his master was even obsessed with the young senator, though in ways he had yet to explain.

Seeing her in person for the first time tonight made Vader question his master's long-standing obsession, as he saw no reason for it. She was young and attractive, as nearly every male in the room had labeled her, but again, Vader hardly cared. She might have had physical attributes to her advantage, which he was sure she utilized like many of the other corrupt individuals, but what was her significance beyond that? What did she possess that his master saw? He couldn't comprehend it. This was the girl his master held in such high esteem? This was the one who was of utmost importance? This was the one whom Sidious despised more than anything else, yet continued to torment himself with? Vader couldn't help but wonder, after all, hadn't the girl served her purpose? As his master said, hadn't she helped him gain power? Wasn't her job complete?

Unless his master favored her as well, which overall didn't seem too absurd. His master usually liked to pick younger women who would be disgusted by the act. The ones he could not only find physical release with, but also find pleasure in their horror. Vader imagined from her thoughts about the Empire and her hatred for the Emperor that she would surely be a consideration. Yet, he pushed the thought away, suddenly feeling nauseous following that particular line of thinking to its conclusion. This one was too kind for his master's liking anyway, he concluded. She had even been kind enough to greet him during the evening, which was a surprise for sure, but also an annoyance. Although, it wasn't as much of an annoyance as her trying to order him around.

The thought angered him, causing the paintings on the nearest wall to rattle. How dare she try to command him? How could she think she was so important that he would ever listen to her? She was just like that idiot of a man, believing he was so above it all that he could act recklessly without any repercussions from the Sith. Yes, he wished he could have ended them both, but he knew their torment would come in time. If he had acted at the party, he was certain his master would have discouraged the task. After all, his master wanted fear, not panic. Panic would come tomorrow.

His master would surely be indignant and displeased with his actions, but as Vader reached out in the Force, he felt only pleasure. It was a relief to sense that his master was pleased and not irate, and that already calmed Vader's mood, though just barely. Vader was still angry at himself, his fury rolling off him in waves. It did not matter that his master was pleased with the fear he had created, the panic flourishing inside the ballroom. He could not find peace. He sensed the old man walking slowly through the halls, his thoughts clear. He was pleased with what Lord Vader had done. Yes, Vader had done exactly what he had wanted: he had created fear and hopefully found some answers.

Vader wasted no time in joining his master as they entered a dark hall. Darth Sidious smiled when a familiar presence appeared at his side. "Ah," he mused without turning to look. "Lord Vader, there you are."

"Yes, my apologies, Master," Vader replied in a dark tone, assuming his rightful position beside his master with a slightly darker yet calmer demeanor.

"For what, my young apprentice?"

"For my actions against that man," Vader snarled, his mind recalling the idiot who had run into him—the fool who had set him off and caused him to fail his mission. He inhaled deeply, trying to find relief, but discovered none. The smell of wine wafting from his cloak only intensified his anger. "You told me to control myself. I failed you."

"No, that man was a fool. He got what he deserved. In fact, he deserved even worse," the Emperor replied, finally looking the other man in the eyes. "Remember, Lord Vader, your anger gives you strength. You demonstrated your power to them. You showed them why you are superior, and why they should fear you."

Vader nodded. "Yes, my master."

"Now," his master said, returning to the true subject. "Who are our suspects?"

"Everyone you suspected," Vader replied. "They were onto us the moment I stepped through the door. There's no doubt they trained themselves to build mental walls against powers like mine."

"Trained by existing Jedi?" Sidious asked, sickened by the thought.

It sickened Vader as well. The younger Sith suppressed the growl that nearly escaped his lips at the mention of the Jedi, the statement reminding him of his failure to eradicate their existence completely from the galaxy. He had failed once, but he wouldn't fail again. It was only a matter of time before they were all dead, before they became nothing more than a myth.

"Perhaps," he conceded, setting aside his ego. "It's possible."

His master frowned. "So, you didn't gather any information?"

The statement made Vader smile with arrogance. "Of course I did, my master. They were no match for me."

His master smiled, a genuinely hideous and carnivorous grin. "Of course, they aren't my young apprentice."

"Should we take action now?" Vader asked.

"Patience," Sidious ordered. "Patience." He took a few slow steps forward, his hands gesturing toward the younger Sith. "My plan is clear. Tomorrow," he stated. "Tomorrow we act."

Vader nodded. "Yes, my master."

The Emperor's sinister laugh echoed through the Imperial Palace as his apprentice recounted the information he had gleaned from the guests' minds. It was true; despite their fragile hopes, they stood no chance against the young Sith. It would be far too easy to eradicate the Rebellion from the galaxy. It was only a matter of time, but soon… soon they would face their end.

While the two Sith discussed their plans, a handful of senators and delegates lingered in the Imperial Ballroom long after the party had concluded.

Those who stayed dared not to ask Padmé about her actions, but it didn't matter whether they asked out loud or not, because Padmé knew what they thought of her. She was aware that they believed she had been young and foolish. Bail had told her that he considered her brave, but Padmé understood that even within him, there was a part that disagreed, believing she had been foolish.

"Um–Agh," the drunken man stirred, his eyes snapping open as he took in a deep breath. The air surged into his lungs too quickly, slamming against his aching and nearly crushed insides, sending him into a fit of coughing. A young delegate held onto him as the coughs propelled his body forward until he finally caught his breath.

Bail was the next to assist the man; knowing the younger man had sobered up, he leaned down beside him, handing him a glass of water. "Glad to see you coming around," he said. "You're very lucky to be alive."

The man said nothing as he took the glass from Bail and sipped the drink in quick gulps. The large bump on his head was visibly throbbing, and Padmé silently wondered how much of the party he would remember, or if he would recall what she had done for him. She quickly got her answer as his eyes shifted to her after he finished the glass. He breathed heavily, placing the empty glass on the floor before turning to her and reaching for her hand.

"I want to thank you for what you did," he whispered, a warmth in his throat. "You saved my life."

Padmé politely pulled her hand away, recognizing his tone of voice, which she knew all too well. "You're welcome…" she paused, unsure of his name.

"Clovis," he said, completing the unspoken part of her sentence. "Rush Clovis."

"You're welcome, Mr. Clovis," Padmé said, managing a polite smile.

"Rush," he corrected swiftly, almost too swiftly. "Call me Rush."

Padmé's smile faded, but she nodded once more, hoping to satisfy the man and finish the interaction. "You're welcome, Rush."

A feeling of awkwardness washed over her as the man continued to stare. No matter how much time passed, he kept his eyes on her. It became so unusual that she started to wonder if he had lost control of his mental faculties or if he was just a pervert ogling her body. Regardless of the reason, she could no longer endure his gaze. Trying to act as normally as possible, she rose from the floor and nodded to Rush.

"I'm glad to hear you're feeling better. It's nice to meet you," she said before turning to her colleagues. "Unfortunately, it's time for me to leave. I'll see you all tomorrow."

The senators nodded their goodbyes to Padmé as her bodyguard approached and led her from the room, but she didn't need to have eyes in the back of her head to know that Rush Clovis was still staring at her. It was something that should have made her feel uneasy, but in reality, it hardly mattered to her at that moment. She didn't care for Rush Clovis—or any other man for that matter. Her mind was too much of a buzz, filled only with one man: the mysterious figure from the party, the man she didn't even know whether he was truly a man at all: Darth Vader.

But her message was not clear to Rush Clovis, as he smiled brightly while watching the retreating senator. His eyes were glued to every part of her body, admiring how the dress fit perfectly on every curve, accentuated her bottom, and moved like skin as she walked away from him.

"Oh yes…" he purred, delighted. "She will be mine."

Author's Note: Hope you liked it! Drop a review!

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