The Sith & the Senator Ch. 30

Chapter 30: Counterblow

Darth Vader

I grit my teeth as I limp back inside, my anger spiking to nearly uncontrollable levels.

How dare Padmé. She steps on my kriffing foot and then has the nerve to flee? It is thoroughly unacceptable, unconscionable and she will pay.

Taking a deep breath, I straighten, drawing on the Force to cleanse the sharp pain in my foot. Eyes yellow, I stare at the door where Padmé disappeared, struggling to control my rage. There’s an uncomfortable ache in my chest, one that’s not dissimilar to being assaulted.

She was becoming mine; she was submitting to my claim over her, my ownership of her. She was finding pleasure in my possessive care for her, but then that kriffing Jedi arrived. She wouldn’t be doing this if not for Obi-Wan Kenobi. This is all Obi-Wan’s fault! The Jedi think they can do whatever the hell they want and Obi-Wan is the worst of them. He thinks he can simply take my Empress away from me, but I will kill him before I allow that to happen.

I press myself against the wall, allowing my head to fall back as I take deep breaths.

It won’t leave my head, it just won’t remove itself from my vision. I can’t stop seeing his arms wrapped around her. I can’t stop seeing the way she smiled so warmly, so openly, with such care and … and regard in her eyes. I saw how close she sat to him from my refuge in the shadows. She touched him in small ways, in a manner that bespoke great comfort and affection. There were no sexual overtones at all, their interaction was serene, laid-back. Padmé was relaxed with him in a way she never is with me. It was in that moment that I realized just how much she doesn’t trust me.

It never bothered me before; it never crossed my mind that she was always on guard in my presence. But then I saw her with Obi-Wan and she was so different; so natural, so soft, so welcoming. It elicits a feeling within me that is foreign. It is not jealously; such a ridiculous emotion is beneath me. Then what? It’s an emptiness in my chest, an aching, hollow feeling. It’s dark and deep, and highly unpleasant.

I don’t like it.

I hate it.

Fists clenched, I rise, moving to the veranda. It is late in the evening and the lights to brighten the night will soon flicker on. The skies of Coruscant are clogged as usual. Lanes upon lanes of never-ending traffic travel bumper to bumper to go absolutely nowhere. The denizens below have no idea how little control they have over their own lives. Or perhaps, they do. Perhaps that is why they scramble to gain just a little more in their lives; a little more love, a little more money, a little more power.

Am I any different? I seek to gain more power over Padmé Amidala, the woman I’ve chosen to be by my side. My desires are eluding me just as the desires of the many ants scurrying below elude them  But I will not allow it to remain so; Padmé’s going to regret allowing Obi-Wan Kenobi to touch her and he’s going to pay for putting his hands on her. Obi-Wan Kenobi is going to pay … and not just for Amidala. He’s going to pay for offenses old and new.

Obi-Wan fucking Kenobi …

I close my eyes as the name whispers in my mind, the mature, aged face of the present dissolving into that of a beardless young man with short hair and one long braid.

It’s hard to believe that there was once a time when I adored the man. I was such a young boy when I met him and the only experience I had with tenderness, wisdom and love was from my mother. I never knew such from anyone else, most especially not from a male. Then, everything changed forever at the tender age of nine, when two men walked into Watto’s shop while I was tinkering on parts for a droid I was building.

I remember my eyes connecting with the older man’s—Master Qui-Gon Jinn’s—and immediately knowing that he was special like me. I felt such a deep, profound shift in the Force that it startled me. I had never met another Force user, at least, not one with any real power like the being before me.

I thought it was destiny, that the time of my mother’s and my liberation had come. In that vein, I welcomed the Jedi without reservation. We quickly connected on a level that I didn’t know was possible for anyone other than my mother. I really liked Master Jinn; he was bold and brave. He had no qualms about voicing his opinion and was confident and steadfast in them. What I admired most was his knack for shaping things in the way he chose. That’s how I wanted to be, what I was determined to be.

I deeply admired the older Jedi and I can admit that at the time, I wanted to be just like him.

Obi-Wan Kenobi was a completely different story. We bonded and it was on a level that was more primal and deeper then I knew was possible. We weren’t just alike in our abilities: We were kindred spirits and he proved early just how much he cared about me. Or so I thought.

It had only been the second week of their arrival on Tatooine, about a week and a half before the Boonta Eve Classic, that I convinced the younger Jedi to fly with me. Flying and racing was something that I loved. It was one of the few things that I actually showed any interest in besides building things and for the first time in my life, I wanted to share it with someone else.

With Obi-Wan.

It was late in the evening, after I had finished working for Watto, that I dragged Obi-Wan to my speeder. I had built it myself from spare parts found in random places or stolen from Watto’s shop. It flew like a dream and was my pride and joy, second only to the droid I was building for my mother.

Flying was not something that my mother approved of. It was dangerous and worried her to no end, but she allowed me to do it because she couldn’t bring herself to forbid me something that brought me such joy. On this day, she was more agreeable to it than usual. Apparently having a Jedi with me made her feel better. It was strange to me because I had never gotten seriously injured while flying. But I simply dismissed it, labeling it as a “mom” thing; one of the many inexplicable things my mother did in relation to me. If having the Jedi with me made her feel better, then so be it. There was no harm done.

Soon, we were off. Obi-Wan did not like flying. I could tell as I increased the celerity of my speeder until the land whipped past us in streams of sand colored light. I swooped and dived, twirled and turned, a rush of adrenaline flooding through me like I’d chain-smoked a whole pack of death sticks. Obi-Wan was less than entertained. He looked as though he was about to hurl his dinner all over the side of my speeder.

“Obi-Wan, why don’t you like flying?” I teased, amused by his flinching and habitual drawing up.

“I don’t mind flying, but what you’re doing is suicide!” he insisted, releasing a shriek that was barely manly before curling up within himself again as I dived headlong into Beggar’s Canyon at full throttle, skillfully threading the needle.

I took pity on him as we made it out mere moments later. Obi-Wan’s hair was askew and he looked worn out, like his heart had taken all it could.

I couldn’t help but laugh at the expression on his face. Obi-Wan scowled at me, his normally serene features set in annoyance, before he too dissolved into laughter. Our mirth rang through the canyon even as I maneuvered the speeder to one of my favorite places in the Canyon. It was my favorite because of the way the light hit the landscape just as Tatooine’s suns were setting: It arrayed the sand in a rainbow of color from the deepest blues to the brightest reds. It was the only time I was ever able to tolerate the omnipresent substance.

Obi-Wan and I climbed out and sat on the ever shifting ground. One of Tattoine’s suns, Tatto II, was setting and the sky was alight with shades of orange, purple and pink, colors that would soon touch the land. It was beautiful.

After a long moment of silently enjoying the sight in front of us, I turned to look at him. “What’s the Jedi Temple like?” I asked curiously, pulling my knees to my chest.

Obi-Wan smiled. “The Jedi Order is on Coruscant, the central hub of everything in the galaxy and the Jedi Temple is at the center of that. It’s a huge structure with large towers that rise high in the air. It’s so big it’s like a self-sufficient city.”

My eyes widened. “Really?” I responded in awe, mouth slightly open.

“Yes,” he replied with a nod, gentle amusement rolling off him in waves from my amazement, “there’s a reason why it’s called the Palace of the Jedi. It has long halls and high ceilings that stretch so far above your head that you can’t reach it! It is one of the most technologically advanced structures on the planet and is the home of all the Jedi in the Galaxy. When you return there after a long mission, it welcomes you. It feels like … well, home.”

I stared in wonderment, thoroughly enchanted by his description of a place I’d never heard of before the Jedi came, a place that I never could have possibly imagined.

“Are there other kids like me there?” I pressed, eyes wide with anticipation.

“Yes and no,” he said with a nod. At my confused expression his eyes softened. “No,” he continued, ”in that I can honestly say that there is no one in the galaxy like you Anakin Skywalker—“

I smiled.

“—But yes in that you will train with other young ones your age at the Academy. While there, you will learn the basis of our beliefs and what it means to be a Jedi. You must do your best there, Anakin, because in order to continue your training in the Force, you must be chosen by a Jedi Knight or a Jedi Master.”

I frowned. “Does that mean that there are young ones in the Academy who don’t become Knights?”

He nodded. “That’s right. Some do not make it to knighthood and even less become a Jedi Master.”

“That doesn’t seem fair,” I responded dubiously, forehead furrowed.

“What’s fair?” Obi-Wan inquired gently, smiling softly at me. “Requiring something of someone who is not Force-capable? Or perhaps, forcing someone to be a knight when they truly do not want to be? There are many reasons why a young one may not be chosen to be a Jed’s padawan, though there are some who wish to be chosen who are not.

I mulled over that for a moment. “Will I be chosen?” I ask him, finally voicing my concern. I had never been very good at school. It was so hard to focus; it seemed as though the world was passing me by as I sat there learning only what my masters deemed fit for their property. Was it like that at the Jedi Temple? What if I got to there and failed, just like I did at the Slave’s school? The thought sank in my stomach like the poor fools Jabba fed to the Sarlaac. To survive slavery, and be delivered to the Jedi Temple only to fail because of school … I couldn’t think of a worse fate.

My morbid thoughts were interrupted as Obi-Wan laughed lightly, brown eyes clear and bright in the fading light of Tatooine’s sun.

“You don’t have to worry about that, Anakin,” he said, looking me straight in the eyes, suddenly so serious that it caused me to sit up, ”you have already been chosen. You will be my apprentice.”

I stared at him for a long moment, my whole body still. Then, like a deep basin slowly filling with precious, life-giving water, warmth flowed into me. A wide smile stretched my face and all I could feel was happiness. I still remember how I felt at his words, the sense of belonging, of imminent freedom. It felt incredible, like good things were on the horizon, that my mother and I would prosper, that we would be free. And it would be in large part due to the man beside me.

My friend.

I was happy for the rest of their stay, confident that the time of our salvation was at hand. I went into the Boonta Eve Classic sure that I would achieve victory and I did. The day I celebrated was a blur, for all I could think was that we were free. After being born in slavery, I had procured my freedom and with it, my mother’s.

But the joy did not last. I returned from the celebrations honoring me for winning the Boonta Eve Classic only to learn that my saviors, my friends, were gone. I refused to believe it at first: Obi-Wan would never abandon me. He had promised to deliver my mother and me from our slavery; he promised that we would have new lives, better lives. He promised that he would personally assure that I was trained in the ways of the Force, that I would become his apprentice.

He lied.

And love turned to hate.

Such a thin line indeed.

Everything spiraled after that.

I changed.

My mother changed.

Watto changed.

Then, Watto did the unforgivable.

Then, I hurt him for what he did.

Then, I ended up in a cage, separated from my mother and slave to a monster with yellow eyes.

It’s all Qui-Gon Jinn’s fault, Obi-Wan Kenobi’s fault. They are the reason I am what I am, who I am, especially Obi-Wan. He weaved dreams like springs of deep waters, gained the trust of a little boy, used him for his own gain and then abandoned him. And now … now all I want is to see the light go out in his eyes. Just like he extinguished the light in mine.

I breathe deeply, dispelling the unwanted memory with the strength of my will.

Those days are long gone and now, Obi-Wan Kenobi is my enemy. I’m not fool enough to believe that Obi-Wan hasn’t recognized my name or face by now. It’s probable that the Jedi know that I’m the Sith if Obi-Wan disclosed the fact that the young, Force sensitive boy he once knew on Tatooine has now returned as a senator. It’s too much of a coincidence and Obi-Wan is anything but a fool. But it must be confirmed. Are the Jedi amassing because they’ve discovered who I am? That would indeed be disastrous and would make advancing my plans infinitely more difficult.

I will seek to gleam more information from the Peace Ball. Obi-Wan fucking Kenobi will be there and if he shows any hint of recognition, I will not perpetuate the charade that he doesn’t remember exactly who I am.

Which presents another problem: I need a fucking date. Padmé should be the one on my arm, but she has betrayed me for the Jedi. No matter, I will go to the ball and I’ll go with a friend of my own. Then, she will realize how fortunate she is to be the object of my intentions and will not again suffer another man to even look at her for fear of my dereliction. Especially not Obi-Wan fucking Kenobi.

I stare at my com link for a moment before picking it up and dialing a frequency.

“Sloan, I need you to come to Coruscant,” I say without preamble, cutting to the chase, “and bring a dress.”

#*#*#*#*#

It has only been three days since Amidala left Coruscant, but it feels like forever. I did not realize how much time I spent with her until she left and the feeling of lack is unpleasant and discomfiting. I will not allow her to leave me in this manner again.

I am at my desk in the Senate, reviewing reports on the latest bullshit drama happening with the Arkanis sector, typing away on my console and giving all the appearance of an upstanding senator whose only concern is his constituents.

The days seem to drag, each one a lifetime and I find it increasingly difficult to focus on my work. There’s so much that needs to be done: My continued investigation into the Jedi’s revelation in the Force is a priority, so is preparing for the Ball and making sure my sycophants over the galaxy are doing Darth Vader’s bidding. Discovering the reason for the Jedi’s mass migration back to the temple has proven more difficult than expected. The Jedi Knights that I’ve captured have been hard to crack and usually end up being impaled on my lightsaber, leaving me with just as much information as I started with: none.

As difficult as it’s been for me, I’m heartened that the Jedi have had it just as bad, if not worse. The Senate is in an uproar over the Jedi’s pulling of their Knights back to the temple, and that without Senatorial consultation or consent. Public opinion of the Jedi Order is hitting an all-time low as the media gleefully provides continuous coverage of the growing number of deaths around the galaxy due to the lack of Jedi presence.

Anyone who doesn’t think the media is working for the Dark Side is a fool.

As of yet, I have not been approached by the Jedi, but I feel that the confrontation between the Jedi Order and the Sith is nigh. I would match my skills with the lightsaber with even the most highly skilled of the Jedi including Master Yoda. However, I must steel myself for the battle ahead. Although the Jedi are not fondly viewed at this time, the general population stills holds them with a measure of awe. When I destroy the Jedi, I must have the support of the people. That shouldn’t be too hard a task. People are as dumb as sheep. It doesn’t matter how much good the Jedi have done, how much the Jedi has helped and delivered civilization after civilization over the centuries. One good scandal will turn the general populace against the Jedi for good. People are ever ready to believe the worse of powerful organizations, even if they have done nothing to deserve their mistrust.

If I play my hand carefully, I will rid myself of the Jedi and gain the love of the people at the same time, disgusting as the latter notion is. It is a situation that I will handle soon, but only after I deal with another, more pressing matter.

Nute Gunray.

The Jedi and their revelation are important, more important than anything, but I cannot get the thought of that Neimoidian fucker out of my head. He is somewhere on this planet, contaminating the already polluted air of Coruscant with the poisonous fumes of his life’s breath. I am going to kill Nute Gunray and it’s going to be soon. I have already decided what I am going to do and just the thought of it makes me pause and admire the sheer brilliance and kismet-like nature of it. Karma-cide indeed: Amidala is rubbing off on me.

I have already set events in motion to punish Gunray and all is going according to plan. Now, I simply need to keep an eye on the kriffer until I’m ready for him.

Pursing my lips, I expertly hack into cameras and various security software over the Senate, using the devices to pinpoint my quarry. It’s a nifty skill I learned after killing Sidious. It was acquired from the one person I am willing to call a friend, the first person I’ve ever met since emerging as the Dark Lord of the Sith who called me on my shit; the person who is, as of last night, making her way to Coruscant.

Shaking my head slightly, I turn my concentration to finding the leader of the Trade Federation. I am perusing the Senate’s confidential security files when a com message from Darth Maul comes in.

I answer it immediately, standing and moving swiftly to the back room, a place I fortified myself as a haven safe from unwelcome eyes and ears.

“Darth Maul,” I say evenly, “report.”

“Master,” he begins, the familiar strains of his rough voice filling the room, “I have returned from my trip to Geonosis. It seems as though they knew of my visit because by the time I arrived they were in a frenzy to increase production on your battle station and to appease me. I only had to kill about a dozen people to express upon them the severity of their transgressions.”

I mull over this in silence. That was easier than expected and has cleared up one problem. Apparently, the mere threat of the Sith’s presence has whipped the Genosians into shape. That’s good because I need Maul here.

“Good work,” I say coolly, after a long moment of silence, “now, return to Coruscant immediately.”

“Master, what about the Trade Federation’s defiance?” he asks, head tilted in the shrouds of his ever present dark cloak.

My mouth curves into a dangerous smile. “I will handle that matter personally,” I nearly purr. “Return to the core now. I need you here.”

“Yes, Master,” he replies.

The transmission ends.

#*#*#*#*#

It takes nearly two days for Darth Maul to return to Coruscant. Upon his arrival, I immediately return him to the work of discovering the Jedi’s revelation in the Force. It frees up my time to finally deal with Nute Gunray.

Finding him was not difficult. He was, of course, in a Senatorial suite assigned to him by Interim Chancellor Valorum, living it up. It’s sickening that Valorum would do such: Put the leader of the Republic’s enemies in some of the best quarters on Coruscant, to allow that bug-eyed fucker to use the people’s money in extravagant spending, which is exactly what he’s doing. Nute Gunray is taking full advantage of Valorum’s foolishness, something else that the Neimodian will pay for. Although it’s unconscionable, Valorum’s awe inspiring-idiocy is useful to me at the moment. It means I know exactly where Gunray is.

I’m bidding my time for now, waiting for the right moment to punish the leader of the Trade Federation.

And oh, how sweet it will be.

#*#*#*#*#

Padmé has returned to Coruscant.

Closing my eyes, I inhale, tuning out the delegate sitting in front of me, complaining about the coffee maker provided in the senatorial resting quarters.

I felt it as soon as she entered the stratosphere. It was a subtle shift in the Force, a sense of rightness descending upon me. My Empress has returned to my sphere of influence and I feel calmer because of it, like something that was restless within me has settled. I do not like the feeling and I refuse to examine it. What I do know is that Amidala will not be allowed to leave me in this manner ever again.

Ever again.

My jaw clenches as an unexpected wave of painful anticipation hits me. I want to see her. Now. I want to touch her, to caress her curvaceous form, to run my hands through her thick, silky hair. I want to fuck her.

But I will not go to her. She will come to me. I will be patient because Padmé will not seek me out now. Through the Force, I can sense that she does wish me to know that she has returned. For the time being, I will indulge her and wait to see her at the Peace Ball tomorrow. I will deal with her then, to remind her just to whom she belongs.

In the mean time, I have other matters to attend to; Nute Gunray. The moment is fast approaching wherein I will finally deal with him the way I’ve wished. Right now, he is in the Senatorial conference room, a place I will go once I have gotten rid of this stupid bastard sitting in front of me. His name is Senator Saryi and he is an expert at wasting my precious time. How I long to run my lightsaber through him and end his ridiculous tirade. Or better yet, I wish to boil a cup of coffee and pour the bubbling mess down his kriffing throat. Then, we’ll see how much he cares about a fucking coffee maker.

I smirk slightly, the imagery putting me in a slightly better mood.

“Mr. Saryi,” I interrupt smoothly, smiling at him charmingly, “perhaps this is a discussion best had at a later date?”

“Yes, of course, Senator Skywalker,” he responds jovially, his large jowls at odd with his slim body, “I will return Monday, then, yes? Then we’ll make it known to Senator Terri that we will not tolerate this indignity one moment longer!”

I almost kill him right then.

“Yes, of course,” I respond with a nod, an understanding smile still in place even as I rise to escort him to the door.

After enduring a few more agonizing moments of his blubbering, I close the door firmly behind him and move to the back room. I grab my com and then make my way out, moving toward the senatorial conference rooms. I am so excited that I can barely stand it.

Pressing a button on my com, I continue to where Gunray is, walking steadily as I nod at delegates, lobbyists and senators that cross my path. For a moment it amazes me: I am literally on my way to do something that would give these bitches nightmares for the rest of their lives and they have no clue. They walk past me smiling and nodding at the devil in their midst. Yet am I not in the same boat? How many of these politicians are monsters in disguise? Perhaps less than before, thanks to Amidala, but I’m not foolish enough to believe they’ve been completely weeded out, especially now that I’ve monopolized so much of Amidala’s time. It’s been a while since she’s exposed any dirty senators, probably because she’s fixated on the dirtiest one of them all.

I smirk, allowing a light laugh to escape my lips at the thought. Perhaps Amidala has been doing her Karma-cide activities after all by being the focus of my heinous attentions. After this, though, she’ll appreciate my less than savory ways in a manner she never has before.

#*#*#*#*#

Gunray has made himself at home and is tapping away on a monitor in the Queen’s Royal conference room when I enter. The irony of the designation isn’t lost on me and I take a quick moment to appreciate it. Named because of the luxurious suits attached to it like a queen’s ladies in waiting, it is one of the most luxurious suites the senate has to offer and also affords the most privacy. Meetings can be conducted in its walls without any fear of eavesdropping. The room really does serve my plans perfectly. It’s as though Gunray is trying to assist me in my ventures.

That’s kind of him.

I close the door behind me, shutting out the noise from the hall. It’s the middle of the day and the senate is bustling with visitors and delegates. That is purposeful, a statement to Gunray: No matter how many people are around, no one will be able to help him. He will know how Amidala felt, how her friends felt when he violated and killed them. He will die surrounded by people with no chance of rescue.

He will not escape my wrath.

Gunray looks up as I enter, stopping his typing and standing.

“Senator Skywalker,” he states, forehead furrowing, “I did not realize we had a meeting today.”

I shake my head, a familiar sense of anticipation and excitement ripping through me with nearly euphoric glee. Gunray knows of my reputation in the senate and has swallowed the pure, sinless, paragon of virtue I have presented to the world. It will be a pleasure for me to show him how much of a fallacy it is.

“We don’t,” I respond cheerfully, “but I have business with you, Nute Gunray.”

“And what business is that?” he asks cautiously, confusion heavy in his voice.

“Oh, nothing. Just the fact that you’re a fraud,” I reply kindly, turning to study a picture on one of the rich, damask red walls. “Does Chancellor Valorum know that you’re not the true leader of the Trade Federation? I don’t think he’d be happy that he’s using so much of the Republic’s resources on a fake.”

Gunray begins sputtering, nose scrunching in anger. “Just what are you talking about, Senator Skywalker?” he spits out. “Everyone knows that I am the leader of the Trade Federation!”

“Is that so?” I respond even softer, head tilted as I finally turn to look him in the eyes. “I thought Lord Vader was.”

It’s like all the air in the room is sucked out. Gunray stills so completely that it actually impresses me. Closing my eyes for a second, I inhale lightly, enjoying the scent of fear that suddenly permeates the air.

“What are you talking about?” Gunray whispers and his words are so low, so tremulous, that they are barely heard in the quiet of the room.

“I think you know what I’m talking about,” I purr, a mild smile adorning my lips.

“Who the hell are you?” he demands, hands clenched, “how do you know that name!”

“I’m Senator Skywalker,” I respond pleasantly, nodding politely at him, “and does it really matter how I know the name? All you should be concerned with is that Lord Vader is very displeased with you.”

Gunray’s green skin whitens and his bug eyes expand to a nearly impossible size as he stares at me. Then he pauses, taking me in from head to toe. I know what he sees: Shiny blond hair with nary a strand out of place, bright blue eyes, pristine senatorial robes and an easy smile. He doesn’t see a threat. He doesn’t even see a man; he sees a weakling, a moron, a pussy. His next words confirm it. “No,” the Neimoidian says, shaking his head, a nervous laugh escaping him, “you are a youngling! A baby! You cannot know who Lord Vader truly is! Even if you do, no matter who you think you are to him, you cannot reprimand me in this manner! You are just a senator of a sector of the galaxy that no one gives two kriffs about!”

“Am I?” I ask with a raised eyebrow, enjoying myself immensely. Gunray has worked himself into a frenzy which I find highly amusing. But however much I would love to continue playing with my food, now is truly not the time. I have a ball to prepare for, after all.

“Yes, you are! I am warning you, boy,” Gunray speaks arrogantly, his confidence growing with each second, “you are dealing with forces that are beyond you. I will forgive your insolence this time, but I assure you, Lord Vader will hear of this!”

My amusement fades. Nute Gunray really has lost his fucking mind. To so disrespect someone who is clearly an agent of Lord Vader … I have allowed his foolishness to continue for too long.

Without preamble, I allow the mask the fall: The scales of kindness slip from my face and the facade that is Anakin Skywalker crumbles under the might of Darth Vader. Gold eyes regard him as I release dark energies, allowing it to flow through the room, wrapping him in my indomitable power. He has felt this before in a particularly colorful demonstration I made before the Trade Federation Council upon gaining power a year ago. I wanted them to understand that my assumption of control was nonnegotiable: It seems that Gunray has forgotten it.

I will remind him.

By the way Gunray’s expression drops, he remembers it well.

“Wh- wh- who are you?” he squeaks, his terror is so high that he voice comes out in heaves.

I merely smirk at him, eyes glowing, waiting for him to accept what he knows to be true.

He stares at me as though his mind has broken. “L- Lord Vader,” he whispers, his voice nearly faint, “h- h- how?”

I laugh lightly and it is full of elation. It’s so good to be free. “Wonderful disguise, yes?” I ask, grinning at him, even as he cowers in a corner. “No one expects the young, naive, idealistic political asshole to be anything other than a young, naive, idealistic political asshole. Who would ever expect him to be the Lord of the Sith?” I confide silkily, eyes hard as I observe him, nearly intoxicated by Gunray’s spiraling fear. “It makes it so very easy to observe people, to see whether one’s followers are behaving themselves …” I murmur, head tilted, a soft smile in place as I study his increasingly quaking form,“… and you, Nute Gunray, have been a very bad boy.”

He says nothing, just continues to stare at me. Surely he’s beginning to feel the full weight of his sins, but it’s much too late for it to do him any good. Nine years too late. “It’s an honor to finally meet you in person,” I say conversationally, taking a seat against the wall. “Although I’m not sure you’d say the same.”

“You’ve been busy, though,” I continue, “you and the Trade Federation have been trying your best to fuck up my plans and I cannot allow that. Between your insubordination, coming here to talk to the Republic without my explicit instructions and trying to sabotage the plans for my battle station, I’m not quite sure what to do with you.”

My eyes narrow on him and I allow some of my rage to slip through my control. Gunray flinches as it washes over him, making him gasp at its intensity. “You did not think that I would allow your perfidy to go unpunished, did you?” I ask him gently.

“I did not try to subvert your authority, my lord!” he begins desperately, eyes feverish.“I was diligent in dealing with the Genosians on the plans for your battle station. I would never betray you, Lord Vader! It was the Council that wished to supplant you!”

“You did not quell it either and you could have,” I respond, voice so cold it lowers the temperature in the room by several degree, “but you thought you were clever, you see. You allowed the Council to undermine my authority, hoping that they would succeed in usurping me, all the while deciding to be a pussy to save your own skin. If the Council did not succeed, you would simply blame it on Rute Gunray and retain your position as leader of the Trade Federation. If it did succeed, however, I would be ousted and you’d have control over my operation. It would be a win-win situation for you, yes?”

“No, Lord Vader! I did not—“ his words are cut off abruptly and he claws at his throat as I raise my hand casually, using the Force to apply pressure there.

“I don’t like being lied to,” I whisper, eyes wide with malice, “so, don’t.”

I release him. Gunray’s terror-filled eyes dart toward me and the door, clearly calculating his chances of escape. His cowardice is revolting.

“Are you seriously considering trying to make a run for the door?” I ask in real disbelief, shaking my head in disgust, “that’s so pathetic. And you’re the leader of the Trade Federation? It speaks to the Republic’s utter incompetence that they weren’t able to destroy you before I arrived.”

He stands there, trembling in the corner, so frightened that he does not speak and does not look at me. Truly Nute Gunray is pure shit.

“Stop being so afraid, Gunray,” I say finally, after I’ve had my fill of his terror, “I’m not going to kill you for betraying me.”

His body nearly sags with relief, the hope is so raw on his face that I almost regret what I’m going to do.

I’m lying.

“I’m going to kill you for something else entirely,” I speak cheerfully, my delight plain and honest.

There is a nearly sickening dip in his emotions, as his joy plummets to despair again. It really is like being on an amusement park ride.

I’ve always liked amusement parks.

With a press of the com in my pocket, I summon my special guests into the room. They are men I’ve used in the past and will most likely use again. They are the lowest of the low, truly the filth of the universe. They are willing to do any and everything I ask of them, nothing is too foul, nothing is too wrong. They jumped at the chance to … play with such prominent prey. They’re dressed nicely, blending in perfectly with visiting citizens. Indeed they don’t look like the monsters they are. Seems I’m in good company.

“Lord Vader,” Gunray begins pleading as they file into the room, “please, Lord Vader …”

“You should at least know why I’m going to kill you Gunray,” I say, ignoring his begging. “You know Senator Amidala, yes?”

His eyes light up and even from where I stand, I can see a gleam of cunning spark in his eyes. “Yes, I know her! She’s the bitch who’s the senator for the Chommell sector. She’s also the former Queen of Naboo. She is your rival, isn’t she, milord?”

I pause and turn to him as though interested. He immediately perks at my actions. What a fool. Time to give him some rope.

“She is,” I concede, staring at him.

“Then, I will destroy her for you, Lord Vader!” Nute Gunray cries, hands spread in supplication.

“You’ll destroy her for me?” I repeat with a raised eyebrow, amber eyes intent on him.

“Yes!” he shrieks, “I will make what happened on Naboo look like a picnic compared to what I will do to her now. I will do it for you, Lord Vader!”

“Is that so?” I respond softly, even as my rage thickens so much it’s hard to speak. How dare he even think of touching her hallowed skin, that he should reach above himself to even think about her. His wishe to defile my Empress threatens to pull me further into the Dark Side than I’ve ever been. All I see is this being’s death, his utter and complete destruction.

I want him to suffer. He will endure unspeakable agony before I allow him to die, but it will not end there. I will make sure that not even his spirit finds peace with the Force in the afterlife.

“Yes!” he repeats, his stance beginning to relax with the belief that he has saved his skin. “I will destroy the threat to your plans and I will do it as soon as possible to prove my loyalty to you.”

I pretend to mull it over. “That would be great,” I say slowly, “if not for one really small fact.”

The Neimoidian’s body stills, and he swallows largely, “What is that, my Lord?”

“Amidala is mine,” I respond quietly, voice barely heard as I impress upon him the total and complete failure of his efforts to appease me, giving him a moment to realize just how deeply in shit he’s buried himself. “She is mine. My woman, my Empress, she will be the mother of my children, co-ruler of this Galaxy.”   

As I watch Gunray, I can see horrifying comprehension light his eyes. Finally, he understands the exact reason why he’s here, in this place, at this time.

I can nearly see him mind break.

“Lord Vader,” he begins, his voice tinged with insane panic, “Lord Vader!”

“You caused my Empress great distress,” I whisper over his growing screams, my rage uncontrollable, “you hurt her and now you wish to hurt her again. You scarred her when you and your animals killed her maid servants in front of her. You humiliated her in front of her peers, you killed her people and have haunted her nightmares for years, but no more. Now, you will die. You will pay for everything you have done to her … and more.”

I look back at my minions. They’ve begun to undress, looking at Gunray lasciviously, as though he’s the prettiest woman in the world. Gunray’s soul nearly dies in his eyes as he watches them reveal themselves, their mouths hanging open in anticipation as they run their eyes over his body. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what I’ve planned for Gunray.

He’s going to die the same way Padmé’s handmaidens did.

And I have a front row seat for every second of it.

“Please! Lord Vader! I did not know!” The Neimoidian sobs, his body trembling violently, his deranged terror screaming into the Force, fueling the glorious waves of the Dark Side with such ferocity that I wouldn’t be surprised if every Force sensitive in the galaxy can feel it. “Please! I will fix this for you! I will do whatever you want! Please.”

I hold up a hand and my amorous minions pause, clearly being kept from ravaging their prey by their fear of me only.

“You will do whatever I want?” I ask slowly, thoughtfully, gazing down at Gunray’s quivering, pathetic form.

“Yes, milord!” he blubbers eagerly, hope shining in his buggy eyes, “I will do anything you want! Just say it and it will be done.”

I study the Neimoidian, at the quivering heap of flesh in front of me.

His fear is palpable.

I can taste his terror on my tongue.

And I can’t help but wonder: Is this how Padmé’s handmaidens felt? Is this how Padmé felt? The thought hardens my granite heart to steel.

I smile gently at him. “Very well,” I say graciously, quietly. Moving to close to him, I slowly kneel down beside him.

“What I want,” I begin softly, staring into his large eyes, “is for you to suffer the way Amidala’s handmaidens did. I want to see them do to you all the things that you did, that you allowed lackeys to do,” I murmur, and as I talk, his eyes widen with nearly manic horror. “Just to be honest,” I finish cordially, kindly, “I just want you to suffer horrifically.”

I move away as he grabs at me desperately, his screams of repentance turning into a garble of nonsensical begging and pleading.

It’s pure music to my ears.

“Enjoy him, boys,” I purr. The men fall on Gunray and began ripping his clothes viciously. In seconds Gunray’s clothes are gone and they are plugging every possible surface of his body, muffling his screams of mercy. I grimace as I watch. Force, but this will be a horrible death for Gunray and for the first time today, it does not make me smile. If this is what Amidala saw done to people she cared about, if this is what she fills her nightmares, then it’s a wonder her mind is intact.

As I watch my minions maliciously and gleefully defile Gunray, a new, deep respect respect for Amidala grows within me. How strong my Empress is in heart, mind and soul. She is worthy to rule. She is so worthy. And despite the utterly distasteful and disgusting act happening before me, my heart is filled with a strange glee that I have not felt since destroying Sidious. But this time, it feels righteous because what I’m doing is right.

A mad animal is finally being put down.

For vengeance.

For justice.

For Padmé.

#*#*#*#*#

After making special arrangements for what’s left of Gunray, I retreat to my apartment and settle into a chair on the veranda overlooking the city.

It is dark, but for once, it brings me no comfort. I feel … unsettled. Something is happening in the Force and it even more chaotic and dangerous than it was mere days ago. Much more. Things are changing alarmingly quick; the agents of destiny are moving behind the scenes and the final confrontation between the Sith and the Jedi is coming, I can feel it.

Yet I don’t understand my reaction to this knowledge. I have not felt so anxious in a long time and I am not happy about it. It’s Amidala’s fault. Meeting her and being burdened with this all-consuming need to own her has changed everything. My path used to be clear, but now there are so many choices laid before me, all of them revealed to me by the Force.

I am at war with myself.

What to do? What do I want for myself, for my future? Is destroying the Jedi worth losing Amidala? The Force has shown me that this seems to be the only path. But how do I live, knowing that those who betrayed me, who left me to rot on that Force-forsaken dust bowl, remain?

Can I choose Amidala over myself? I cannot remember ever caring about anyone enough to even consider such a concept. That I’m doing so now hits hard. Exactly how much do I care for Amidala? Possessing her, owning her in every way, has been important to me since the moment I decided that she would be mine. But this isn’t supposed to be a reciprocal attraction, a mutual ownership. It’s supposed to be completely one-sided; she belongs to me and caters to my whims alone. Then why does the thought of her devastation affect me so deeply?

I do not like it.

I do not like it.

… What do I do?

An alert from my security system announces that there is someone at the door and I am grateful. My mind needs rest from the turmoil, from the discord. Perhaps my visitor will provide me with adequate entertainment, especially if it is a random socialite seeking a fuck. Such would be welcome; I haven’t killed anyone in what feels like forever.

Walking to the door, I open it, pausing as my eyes run over the slender, voluptuous woman standing in front of me.

“Sloan,” I say in greeting, finally meeting her eyes.

“Anakin,” she responds warmly with a smile, “it’s been a long time.”

Indeed.

Stepping back, I allow her to pass.

I close the door.

---

Chapter 29

Chapter 31

~Table of Contents~