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You destroyed the Jedi, toppled a republic which stood for 25,000 years, established a new Sith empire ending 1,000+ years of hiding in the shadows. You hear the pilot’s name who destroyed the Death Star is Luke Skywalker and know that none of it matters, you’ve lost. You kill the messenger. It’s not enough, nothing ever could be.
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“What is thy bidding, my Master?” The words are right, and he is still kneeling at your feet. You try and remember what victory felt like (Amidala’s corpse being paraded through the streets, Kenobi’s lightsaber in your hand). You say something and he answers, but all you can think about is that he took a star destroyer into an asteroid field. Amidala is there smirking at you over his shoulder, she is always there these days.
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Queen, Senator, the greatest politician of an age, dead of a broken heart
You don’t ask if she knew before leaving Coruscant what was going to happen to her
Negotiator, famed Jedi and general, a broken shell in the Wastes
You don’t ask if he thought it was worth dying to see him again
You are terrified of their answers.
There is no need to ask if they regret it. You remember a crooked smile, the smell of lightning, and how it felt to be the center of his world. Kenobi is there, laughing.
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You are drunk sitting in the shadows of your office. (The whiskey is his favorite, the bottle you bought and stashed in your desk to complete the perfect picture of a caring grandfather. His surprised pleased gasp and ducked head were worth it.) You tell them you have everything you ever wanted. He picked you, they’re dead, and the Rebellion is about to be crushed. They are still there, silent, but they don’t have to say anything. The bottle crashes against the wall and you scream that you are not some blind pathetic fool like they were, that you will kill that traitorous whore before you ever let him leave.
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You board your ship to join the fleet at Endor. You don’t look back, there’s no point, he is all you’ve ever seen.