Chapter Text
Darth Vader was a Sith Lord. A warrior of the Dark Side. As such, he was feared, respected, looked on with awe. The mere mention of his name struck fear into allies and enemies alike. The sound of his mechanical breathing made even the bravest souls tremble in fear. If you were unlucky enough to see the tall, black-clad frame bearing down on you, a full suit of armor with a flowing cloak around the shoulders, blinking lights on a panel resting in the middle of the chest—a deceivingly obvious weakness, one could easily reach out and turn off his life support… if they could get close enough—you were already dead.
No Imperial wanted to work under the Dark Lord lest they become a demonstration of his infamous temper. Yet every fighter wanted him on their side, for there seemed to be no fight he couldn’t win.
Vader was quite proud of this. One might think it would be lonely, when even those who regarded you positively also regarded you with fear, to the point that they tried to avoid you when they could. But a Sith thrived on that sort of thing. A Sith did not feel lonely, not without channeling that emotion into more fuel for the Dark Side. A Sith certainly did not care what others thought of them, unless that individual was mocking or underestimating them, in which case that individual must die. If anyone asked—not that anyone would, as even if they did know of his past no one would question a Sith Lord to his face—Vader would have said that he felt as if he had never known different.
Most of the time, he felt as if this was true. His Master had all but beaten that line of thinking into him. And he truly did enjoy the way no one would dare look at him wrong, and the fact that he was basically allowed to punish or even kill whoever he wanted within reason.
But there was one individual he never wanted to fear him. Well, three individuals, actually. It amazed Vader how two of those individuals had not yet learned to fear things like monstrous, scarred, raspy-breathed cyborgs radiating darkness. Though perhaps he radiated a little less darkness whenever they were concerned.
After looking over the Executor’s chart readings—he did not yet trust the Executor’s crew, and he likely never truly would—Vader retired to his quarters. Specifically built for a being reliant on a specialized suit of armor just to survive, the high-pressure meditation chamber allowed the Dark Lord to remove his helmet once it was enclosed around him. Vader had quickly become accustomed to the constant sound of his breaths, at times finding it almost soothing, but the silence that enveloped him as soon as his mask was removed was… no, not comforting. A Sith did not take comfort in such things as silence, not unless it was the silence after a victory in battle. But if there were a Dark Side equivalent to comfort, that’s what Vader felt.
But eventually Vader became bored with the silence, as he had not entered his chamber to meditate. Not today. Today he had entered his chamber to speak with someone.
When the Sith had found out how long he was scheduled to be on this voyage (a month at least) he had requested his chamber be expanded and outfitted with a holocomm, on the condition that the installation crew not inform the Emperor. It wasn’t that Vader was forbidden from calling these people, he just did not want the Emperor to know how often they spoke, lest he be considered weak.
Vader keyed in a familiar code, the communications room of a fortress on Mustafar. Vader had once associated the location with the pain and terror and uncontrollable rage of his transformation into the man he now was, hence why his Master had “suggested” he build his fortress there, in that exact spot. But over time, he’d come to associate his home with the family living there—another reason he did not want the Emperor knowing more about them than necessary.
The holocomm lit up with the image of a young woman holding two infant children, each just over a year old.
Padmé Amidala.
Padmé was, to put it lightly, the one still-pleasant memory of his life from before the rise of the Empire. And if Vader were being honest with himself, if there wasn’t a more powerful Sith that would punish him for even thinking this, she made him miss his life as a Jedi. Not his entire life, of course, but the simplicity of living in an apartment on Coruscant alongside his wife, not feeling the Dark Side of the Force surrounding his heart with every passing second, still feeling… like a human being.
And his children. Luke and Leia, the beautiful twins born of the secret marriage between a Jedi and a Senator. Vader would never say this out loud or even allow himself to officially think it, but his children brought him back towards the light. Not fully, he was still a Sith, but the twins’ Force presences were so innocent, so bright, that it only stood to reason that they would chase away a bit of the Dark Side’s shadow.
Padmé had been waiting for her husband’s call. Anakin had left the day before on a mission to scout out certain planets and how they were… adjusting to the change in leadership. Padmé hated it. She hated the Empire, she hated Palpatine, she hated the fact that they had molded her husband into… whatever this was that they wanted him to be. A Sith Lord.
Yet when she spoke with him, when she looked into his eyes, when they sat silently at each other’s sides, she knew that while Darth Vader might have been the person the Galaxy saw, and the person Anakin had convinced himself had all but killed the Jedi he had once been, Padmé would only ever see Anakin Skywalker, the man she had fallen in love with all those years ago on Naboo. Yes, he looked different, but didn’t everyone have scars of some sort? Yes, he wore a suit of armor, but that couldn’t hide his past from those he was willing to share his life with. To Padmé, he was still the same Anakin, just now being used by Palpatine and convinced that was what he wanted. And deep down, she knew Anakin felt the same, though he would never say it.
Padmé began their conversation by asking how Anakin’s day had been, once he’d filled her in he asked how their children were doing. It was the sort of conversation any couple with children would have, hardly a conversation one would expect from Anakin Skywalker, much less a conversation one would expect to be held between Darth Vader and his mysterious contact.
Padmé recalled when she and Anakin had first met on Tatooine, she’d thought of him as the sort of person you’d hear about in a story, a child blessed with powers who was meant to save the world. Anakin had later told her that when he’d first seen her as a teenage handmaiden he’d thought she was a woman from a legend or a fairytale, especially when he’d found out she was the Queen of Naboo. When they’d met again all those years later, Padmé had understood what he meant—their time together felt like living a story one would tell their child before bed, a knight in shining armor falling for the graceful noblewoman in his care. The situations they found themselves in certainly didn’t help—a failed rescue mission that resulted in battling large monsters together, for one. And their wedding had been nothing short of a fairytale.
But as they spent more and more time together, they’d found themselves in situations that were decidedly mundane—deciding where to order food, their directions to different planets being unhelpful, discussions of the little things that brought them joy or irritated them. Padmé had loved those moments when her life had suddenly become something out of a dream or a story, but she’d loved the relatively ordinary life she and Anakin had carved out for themselves even more.
And even now that it was over, now that she lived in a castle belonging to the Emperor’s best enforcer whom she was married to, she treasured the moments when her life felt like the life of any normal mother of twins. Especially because for all the glamour of being part of the Empire, even through marriage, there was a truly rotten core to the fantasy. She could tell Anakin felt it too.
Nearly every evening, Anakin would take time away from the rest of the crew to contact his family. Sometimes he had good news, sometimes she had good news. Padmé hardly ever had anything bad to tell Anakin, but too many nights he would confess to her that the Emperor had made some threat at him or his crew, often forcing him to take courses of action he would have preferred not to take.
One night Anakin joined the call with a worried look on his face. He likely didn’t realize how he looked, but Padmé had always seen right through him.
“Anakin, is everything alright?”
Anakin hesitated.
“Padmé. I have encountered a dilemma, and I feel you are the most suited to assist us.”
Padmé nodded hesitantly. She wasn’t about to help the Empire, but she wasn’t quite sure that was what her husband wanted.
Anakin sighed.
“I have come upon our first destination. The residents of this planet refuse to join the Empire.”
A reasonable choice, in Padmé’s opinion, albeit not a logical one.
Anakin continued, “The Emperor has more than provided for us to wipe them out if needed. However, I recall you peacefully ending many such disputes before the Empire’s existence. I am requesting that you help me solve this the same way, if need be.”
That was it. That was Anakin peeking through the mask of Vader. That was the reason Padmé had never given up on him, the reason she’d stayed with him, the reason they were raising Luke and Leia together.
Padmé immediately ran Anakin through the basics of a successful negotiation, tailored specifically to the situation he was in.
The next night, Anakin seemed to be in an even worse mood. He didn’t show it, and that was exactly why Padmé could tell something was wrong, he seemed even more emotionless than usual, as if his face had become a mask of its own.
After a moment, he announced, “The negotiations have failed, and the planet in question has declined to join us.”
“I’m sorry.”
Something else was wrong, though. Anakin wouldn’t be this upset over something like that, even when the Dark Side was corrupting his mind.
Sure enough, Anakin continued, “The Emperor has requested that we utilize lethal force.”
Padmé’s heart quickened, this was why she hated the Empire, she’d known something like this was bound to happen—
Anakin’s eyes bored into her for a moment, with the same look he’d had any time he was worried about her or anyone else but couldn’t say anything. He quickly closed his eyes, and Padmé could tell he was in distress. She longed to pull him close, to feel his arms around her, to place her hand on his cheek in support.
All she could do now was quietly ask, “This… isn’t the kind of request you can refuse, is it?”
Anakin shook his head sadly.
“The consequences would be… undesirable.”
Only Padmé could see the fear behind his expression—it broke her heart to see, and her anger at the Emperor only doubled.
After a moment she murmured, “Maybe there is some way you can fake an attack?”
Anakin opened his eyes slowly.
“If the population assisted, perhaps.”
The next night, Anakin told Padmé how he had detonated several explosives outside of any populated areas, but created the appearance of an attack on the planet’s cities. The planet’s inhabitants were not happy about being forced to join the Empire, and while some took Vader’s actions as a threat, others began to spread the word, and a common perception of the Empire’s main leaders took hold, especially as similar events unfolded across many non-Imperial planets. While the Emperor was rightfully seen as a cruel dictator, his enforcer, Darth Vader, was seen as a ruthless yet well-meaning warrior with the Galaxy’s best interest in mind, who would someday rise against the Emperor.
Padmé was extremely proud of him, and she often wondered if, had she died that fateful day, and their twins become separated from their father and even from each other, he would have attacked without a second thought that day and all others. She didn’t want to place too much importance on herself, or downplay Anakin’s fight against the Dark Side that she knew was taking place within his mind every day, but the look Anakin gave her and their children all but confirmed it—Padmé brought her husband back to the Light, bit by bit.
Sometimes he retreated deeper into the Dark, especially whenever Palpatine was concerned, but the one thing that never changed was his love for his family, which Padmé could always sense in some shape or form no matter what.