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Title: Duels of Light and Shadow
Author: Maia (maia@bastcastle.net)
Rating: R
Characters: Vader, OFC, a few other familiar faces.
Category: AU, Adventure, Romance, some Angst.
Disclaimer: I am not making any money from this, and he doesn’t belong to me. Darn.
 
Summary: An unexpected encounter leads to a series of duels.

Author's Note: This is an experiment in writing. The same story told from two different perspectives, each one written to stand alone. They should be read in the order Light then Shadow.

Part I: Light

Part II: Shadow

Duels of Light and Shadow: Light

It’s noon already, so time to gather up those who want to practice outside and relax, in a way, until the next class I have to teach. Today, however, only a few choose to join me. The security next door has scared off most of the regulars, I decide, as I glance over at the armoured guards. Everyone knows who is here and why.

I ignore the stares from across the street and motion the students forward. This is our usual place to do drills and no one, not even the Emperor’s representative, is going to interrupt my usual routine. If he doesn’t like it, well, that’s just too bad.

As we work our way through the various footwork drills, I feel the hair stand up all over my body. I am being watched, but when I turn around and stare at where that impression originated, there is nobody to be seen.

‘Gremlins and goblins,’ I mutter to myself, ‘or maybe I am just being a touch paranoid.’

***

The pattern is the same over the next few days, with the numbers showing up for fencing practice dwindling until it is just me who is left, duelling an invisible opponent for an hour. As I run through my drills, that same strange sense of being watched is always there and I suspect that this is what has driven the others away.

I turn about as I finish and cheekily give the building across the road a formal salute, sweeping my épée up in front of my face and then down to my side. The guards look at one another, but don’t approach me.

‘Go ahead and stare all you like,’ I say aloud. ‘You can’t intimidate me away.’

I pack up my gear and go back to my office. The weekend is here and I have plenty of marking to do. Hopefully, Monday will be different.

***

Lunchtime on Monday is no different than it was on Friday.

I drop my bag of gear on the bench and dig out the épée I want. Practice, on my own, again. The sooner the treaty is sorted out and Empire gone from here, the happier everyone will be. Footwork, first, I remind myself, then parry drills. I sense eyes upon me, but ignore them. My focus is so intent on what I am doing that when I step backwards into someone it comes as a rude surprise.

I whip around in reaction, only to retreat rapidly away.

‘Bother it all,’ I complain to my unexpected visitor. ‘Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to sneak up on people?’

The Sith Lord moves his gloved hands from his sides to his belt, hooks his thumbs over it and says nothing. It’s then that I remember he can’t speak the local lingua franca and without a translator, there is no way I can easily communicate with him because I don’t speak Galactic Basic. His helmeted head tips a touch and that strange sense of being watched returns. I am being measured and evaluated in some way, and I don’t like it very much.

Vader gestures towards the weapon in my hand, so I reverse it and extend the hilt to him. He can’t do me any harm with it. The edges are blunted and the tip is designed to register successful hits rather than injure someone. As I watch, he checks out the blade’s balance and rapidly moves it from parrying to attacking positions. From his deliberate and precise actions it is rather obvious that the rumours are correct and he really is an expert swordsman. Once he is finished, he motions his hand at my bag where my other épées are kept.

‘No way,’ I tell him. ‘I am not interested in being flattened by you.’

His hands move to his hips. I know that pose. It’s the same one my mother always used on me when I was being stubborn. Saying ‘no’ is not going to work with him when he is accustomed to being obeyed, and immediately, at that.

‘Oh, very well,’ I growl at him. ‘Just remember that I am not in your league.’

As I dig through my swords, I keep casting glances over at him. His posture has shifted again. He’s relaxed, now, one hand hooked over his belt, the other holding my épée to the side. I had given him one of my swords with a right handed French grip, so I will use one of my lefts - not that I anticipate having any advantage from that. With his reputation, I expect to last all of ten seconds. I pull on a glove, pick up the best of my left handed épées, and stand up.

One of the officers in charge of the guards from across the street approaches and says something to the Sith Lord. From his tone of voice, he really doesn’t like the idea of his boss duelling with me. Vader points a finger at the man’s chest and snaps something at him, but that only starts an argument. I settle into a resting stance and watch their exchange. It’s rather obvious to me which one of them will win this verbal sparring match, and the outcome is no surprise when the officer retreats. Sith Lord, one; underling, zero.

I take a deep breath in an attempt to calm my nerves, sweep my épée up in front of my face and down to my side in a traditional salute, nod at him, and pull on my mask. Vader mirrors my motion with his sword and steps back into an en garde position just as I do. He’s been watching me for the past week, so I expect he has some idea of how we duel here.

Rather than take the lead, I patiently wait for him to move first, watching carefully for any ‘tells’ which might give me a hint for what he might do. Unfortunately, there is nothing to read from him, as would be expected from someone with his skill level. His chosen initial attack comes without announcement and is a classic lunge aimed at my sixte. I parry that, circling his blade with mine, and step back, out of his reach. He follows me, moving forward. We have several exchanges of that type, and as he tries various thrusts, I soon realize that he is running through what I had been working on with the students. He’s testing me, I decide, since nothing he has done has been at the speed I would have expected from him.

After a few minutes of his attacks followed by my parries, I turn the tables on him, setting up the sequence I intend to use. His next attack comes as I anticipate, but instead of simply countering it and stepping away as I had been doing, I perform a parade d'opposition, shoving his blade to the outside and well away from me, so that I can lunge at him with a riposte. The Sith Lord jumps backwards in reaction to that in an attempt to put himself out of my range, but he is not fast enough to avoid the tip of my épée contacting his chest armour.

Vader pauses, shakes a finger at me, and adopts an en garde position again. He did not think I would do something like that. I bite back my amused laugh because I do not want to antagonize him. What he saw me doing with the students was basic drills, not advanced techniques, and I still have plenty of tricks left up my sleeve.

On his next attack, I drop down, using a passata-sotto to avoid his épée while I extend mine to hit him above the knee. His reaction to that is an angry growl as he steps back and into en garde. My next trick is in response to him trying to bind our blades. I use a derobement to evade that followed by a light coupé to his arm. This time, he stops in place, and I feel that strange sense of being measured again. Our next phrase d’armes is much quicker, with the end result being a solid hit from him to the center of my chest. Vader is no longer playing with me and has decided to see what I can really do when pressed.

By the time he signals an end to our bout, saluting as he did when we began, I am down on one knee, breathing heavily, with my muscles aching. We have also drawn an audience. Vader ignores them, comes over to me and offers me his hand. I take it and let him pull me to my feet. He returns his borrowed épée to me then rests a hand on my shoulder.

I don’t understand a word of what the Sith Lord says to me after that, but I wish I did. He is either tearing apart my technique with criticisms, or telling me what I need to improve. After he steps away and walks across the street, I watch his guards and military attachés swarm around him.

‘Well, that was quite the experience,’ I mutter to myself. ‘I have been beaten rather thoroughly by a Sith Lord.’

Vader stops, turns, and looks at me.

Same time, same place, tomorrow, I hear in my head before he disappears into the building.

I jump involuntarily and snap my open mouth shut. Did he really just do what I think he did or did I imagine that?

***

The next day, I am back in my usual spot, waiting for my duelling partner to show up. To occupy my time I run through my favourite exercises while keeping an eye on the main entrance to the building across the street. I am not going to let him sneak up on me again.

Eventually, Vader appears. I watch him cross the roadway and wave aside his guards, not that he really needs them. From what I read last night, he is eminently capable of looking after himself. When he reaches me, he stops, tips his head slightly, and reaches out his hand, but he doesn’t take the épée I offer to him.

‘What?’ I ask, puzzled. ‘I don’t know what you want.’

His answer is to grab my empty left hand, turn it over, and brush his fingers across my calloused skin. An early life of hard work and my chosen sport have ensured that I don’t have delicate skin or pretty hands. It doesn’t help that I have a nervous habit of biting my nails when I am overly stressed.

‘I don’t have ‘lady’s hands’,’ I tell him. ‘I grew up on a farm and had to work. Not that it matters.’

Vader rumbles something at me as I let him compare my hands. I have trained myself to fence with both of them, so they look more or less the same. After he lets me go, I pick up my sword and hold the right handed épée out to him, but he takes the left handed one I had planned to use instead and points at my bag.

‘Left versus left, today,’ I interpret his intentions. ‘This ought to be fun.’

To my surprise, Vader spends our time together trying on me the various moves I had used on him yesterday. I know the counters for those, so it quickly becomes a game of cat and mouse as each of us tries to outthink the other. At times, I can’t stop myself from laughing at the sheer joy of duelling someone who enjoys playing the tactical game as much as I do. I very quickly lose track of points scored for and against, and finally decide that it really doesn’t matter.

We are both so completely engrossed in what we are doing that when one of his aides approaches us neither one of us notices him for a few minutes. It is only after the officer tactfully clears his throat and calls Vader’s name that the Sith Lord steps back and lowers his épée. I pull off my mask and smile wryly at him.

‘Time’s up,’ I state. ‘We both have to go back to work.’

The hilt of his épée is offered to me, so I reach out and take it. For a moment, Vader holds the forte of the blade, and that feeling of being measured by him sweeps over me. He dismisses his aide with a short comment, releases the épée, and steps closer to me. I look up at him, wondering what his intentions are this time. His fingers brush my cheek and sweep the hair that has escaped from my braid back behind my ear before he rests his hand against my face. There are no critical comments today. Whatever he says to me, it is in a softer, quieter voice.

‘And I love you, too,’ I tease him as he removes his hand and turns to go.

He stops, his back to me, and I start to think that maybe that wasn’t the smartest thing to tell him, even though it was amusing when I did it.

Tomorrow, I hear in my head.

***

The pattern is the same over the next three days. I show up as soon as my morning lecture is finished and wait for Vader to join me. He picks which hands we each use and then we duel until one of his aides comes over to fetch him back to the negotiating table.

The only change is after we finish duelling today, Friday, the last day he will be on my home world.

I accept the épée from him and slowly take it from his fingers. The past five days have been quite interesting and also frustrating at times because of the communication barrier, but if nothing else, I know that practicing with the Sith Lord has improved my skills dramatically. I have also learned that the man under the armour is nothing like how he has been presented in the media and scandal sheets. He is a warrior, but cut from a noble cloth, a relic of another time and place. We are kindred souls, in a way, linked by our love of an outdated mode of combat, and a part of me wishes that he did not have to leave.

‘I am going to miss you,’ I tell him.

He rests his hand on my cheek and says something in Basic, motioning with his other one to indicate that he wants me to put the épées away in their bag. I do as he wants, curious to see what he plans to do next. When I straighten up from my task, I feel his right arm around my waist as he pulls me backwards into his chest.

‘Now wait just a minute,’ I start a protest.

His left hand unclips his lightsaber from his belt. I stand perfectly still at that and wait. The right hand that was at my waist takes my right and carefully positions it on the hilt of his ‘saber, moving my fingers to where they need to be. My left hand soon joins it, and both are covered by his. A flash of understanding hits me. I know what he is going to do now.

I have taught him some of what I know and he has decided to return the favour in kind in the safest way he is able.

The lightsaber ignites with a loud snap. I look at that crimson blade and listen to the pulsing thrum of energy flowing through it. As I stare at it, I start to feel dizzy and a bit unsteady. Épées are much easier on the eyes and not lethal like his weapon is.

Focus on the blade, runs repeatedly through my head. Learn and remember.

Vader moves his lightsaber, controlling it with his hands over mine, duplicating the same pattern over and over again, until I cannot think of anything else. A low guard followed by a broad, powerful, sideways stroke which would cut someone in two were they foolishly standing in front of us, then recovery from that into a middle guard position, only to return back to the initial low guard.

Remember, that voice threads through my thoughts until it becomes all consuming.

Eventually, the disorientation I am experiencing reaches the point where I am no longer capable of focusing on anything. I close my eyes, release my grip on his ‘saber’s hilt, and let myself fall backwards against him. Thankfully, I don’t slide to the ground in a heap because Vader puts his lightsaber away with his left hand and holds me up with his right arm at my waist, pinning me to him again. I make myself turn around so that I am facing him, wrap my arms around him, and rest my forehead on his chest. His arms change position in reaction, one staying at my waist and the other firm across my back, supporting me. This is better, much better.

I breathe in deeply several times and note that he smells of leather and some sort of organic fibre which must be from his cloak. Beneath that is the attractive muskiness of fresh male sweat, a product of our recent workout.

‘You smell really good and I want to stay right where I am,’ I tell him as I turn my face and set my cheek on his armour.

A synthetic voice says something in Basic. Vader answers it.

‘Lord Vader wishes to know why you said that,’ I hear in English.

I open my eyes. Oh, no. His aide has brought one of their translator ‘droids with him today. This is going to be embarrassing, to say the least.

‘I like the smell of leather,’ I force myself to admit only that much of the truth.

The Sith Lord’s laughter on hearing my answer startles all of us. He points a finger at his officer and motions the man away, but the ‘droid he indicates should stay. I go to take a step back, but there is still a firm and solid arm at my waist.

‘Don’t move,’ I am ordered via the ‘droid. ‘Pretend you are still unwell and I am helping you.’

‘Alright,’ I agree to that and let myself droop in his arms.

He rests his hand on my forehead as if he is checking on me.

‘There are reporters and others watching us, and our practice duels have been noted by your intelligence services,’ he warns me. ‘I expect that they will arrest you on some made up charge and interrogate you once I have left, regardless of your not knowing anything of use to them. Were this planet already part of the Empire, I could easily protect you. As it is, until the treaty is ratified at Imperial Center, I cannot.’

His fingers brush my cheek.

‘Tonight, I will keep you with me, and that might be enough to make them think twice about harassing you,’ he decides. ‘There is some pointless social function I must attend. I will see to it that you are invited as my guest, and send someone to collect you after your afternoon class is finished.’

I don’t move and think about what he has said. Vader sounds genuinely concerned for my safety, enough so that he is willing to make it clear to all that he considers me to be under his protection. His arms loosen, but I have something else in mind, if he will allow it.

‘Hold me, for a few minutes, please?’ I ask of him. ‘I still feel a bit unsteady.’

Vader humours my request, but finally, he lets me go. I don’t try to delay him as he turns and walks away, the translator ‘droid following behind him. Instead of staring at him, I concentrate on packing up my gear and lugging it back to my office. Once there, I toss my bag in a corner and unbraid my long hair, running my fingers through it after it is free and massaging my scalp while I think about the peculiar situation I am in.

My temporary duelling partner must be up to something more than simply discouraging the local security forces from bothering me, but I cannot figure out what that might be. Have the negotiations he has been engaged in bored him to the extent that he has chosen to use me as a source of amusement and a distraction? Or is there some other reason for his behaviour?

I drop myself into my chair and look at the screen on my computer. For the past three days I have read as much as I can about the man, but the public records have not given me much insight into his character. Most of the media reports are focussed on his military victories or successful treaty negotiations, and what is left unsaid in those is far more interesting. I have learned far more about him by duelling him than from my research.

I shrug my shoulders, stand up, and strip off my fencing whites. Perhaps a few hours in his company tonight will reveal what my investigation into him has not. At the very least, I find him intriguing, and to a certain extent, attractive. Most certainly he is unlike anyone I have met before. I quickly pull on the set of clothes I wear during lectures and gather up what I need for the last class of the day. Thinking about Vader can wait for later.

My class goes quickly, but when I leave the room, it is obvious that there are reporters lurking in the hallway with the intent of ambushing me. I duck into the crowd of exiting students and flee to the relative safety of the faculty lounge. Vader’s aide and two of his white armoured guards find me there ten minutes later. The officer walks at my side through the campus and glares at anyone who comes too close or attempts to talk to me. By the time I have been escorted across the street and to the waiting Sith Lord, my nerves have settled down. He won’t let anyone harm me, I decide, and only a fool would make the attempt in his presence.

I watch the goings on around us, paying attention to what Vader does and how people respond to him. When he addresses someone directly, they reply in a respectful manner, and nobody behaves in a way that one could call rude. He spends a few minutes speaking to his aide before reaching over and grabbing my hand, setting it on his arm after he draws me close to his side. The Sith Lord is putting on a show where I am concerned and I have to wonder why. Everything I have read and heard about the man suggests that he does nothing without having a plan or thinking it through carefully in advance. His use of strategy and tactics when he has fenced with me only confirms that. Acting on impulse, in my case, is not typical for him at all.

‘We are going to the Imperial Ambassador’s residence, now,’ the ‘droid tells me.

My answer is a nod since that statement doesn’t need a verbal response. I feel a finger trace my cheekbone and turn to look at the Sith Lord. He points to a shuttle, presumably his, which is parked nearby. The ‘droid follows us as we walk over to it, and I sit where I am told to. Vader takes the spot next to me, but says nothing while the ‘droid chatters away. It must have been ordered to give me this information earlier.

‘The banquet tonight is in the Rose Pavilion,’ it tells me. ‘Lord Vader has seen to it that what you need is at the Ambassador’s residence.’

‘Thank you,’ I quietly reply.

I don’t have anything suitable of my own to wear to a place like that. The most important of social and political events are held there and the dress code is strictly enforced, although in the Sith Lord’s case, they will have to make an exception.

‘Lord Vader,’ I call to him to draw his attention.

‘What is it?’ he asks me through the ‘droid.

‘What am I supposed to do at this thing tonight?’ I risk the question.

‘Amuse me,’ he states. ‘Talking to bureaucrats and politicians, and their spouses, bores me. You are of more interest to me than they are.’

‘You could always take a walk in the gardens to escape from them,’ I suggest to him.

He turns to look at me, and I know he is measuring me again. I wish he would stop doing that. If he really wants to know something, all he has to do is ask me.

‘Perhaps we will do that,’ he replies.

***

The bedroom I am taken to is large, spacious, and everything in it is beautiful. Vader is elsewhere in the building and I have two hours to have a bath, figure out what I am going to wear, and prepare myself. I open the door to the walk in closet and stand there with my mouth open. It’s full of formal gowns, all black, as required. Each one of them would have cost more than I earn in several months. On a shelf are leather shoes in various styles and sizes, and some of them match particular gowns. He’s rich, I try to rationalize how much he has spent, and he doesn’t want to be seen with someone wearing a cheap dress.

I occupy myself for the next half hour with looking through my choices. In the end, I select three to try on. Each one is in a style I prefer, not too low cut or revealing, and floor length. The first one doesn’t fit quite right, so I put it back, and the second is a touch big in the bust, but I have a trick for fixing that and of the three, I like it the best. I don’t bother trying on the third dress and return it to the closet. Bath, next, I decide.

As it approaches the time to leave, I nervously check myself in the mirror again. In this gown, I have a definite bust line, thanks to the fitted corset bodice and the tissues I stuffed under my breasts to keep them properly in place. My makeup is minimal and my hair is in an upswept style, held secure by the hair combs I found in the bathroom. I have chosen a plain pair of flats for my feet, rather than stumble around in heels which I am not used to. The only thing I lack is jewellery, but I don’t expect that will be supplied to me. Simple and elegant is better anyway.

There is a knock on the door, so I inspect myself closely once more before I go open it. Vader is there, hands resting on his hips, waiting for me. He has only seen me in my fencing whites or my teaching clothes, so I have no idea what he thinks of my changed appearance. His hand lifts mine and he squeezes it before he leads me down the hallway and through the residence to his shuttle. I feel curious eyes on me wherever we go. Vader with a woman at his side is obviously a novelty.

***

The Sith Lord leads me into the banquet hall and I see his helmet swivel as he examines the place and who is in it. I know that we must be sitting at the head table for the meal, but formal events like this are foreign territory to me. Clues for what I need to do will have to come from him and from observing how the others around us behave.

I try to stay at his side, but we are separated when he is called away to be introduced to a few politicians. Rather than draw attention to myself, I do my best to become unnoticeable. That tactic quickly fails. A well dressed, obviously rich and privileged twerp tries to catch my eye. I ignore him and concentrate on where Vader is. If I am lucky, he won’t be kept away for much longer.

‘Do you think you are too good to talk to me?’ I am accused.

I look the spoilt brat up and down, and debate how to answer that. He doesn’t give me a chance to reply and steps closer. In response, I back away from him.

‘I want you to leave me alone,’ I state, hoping he gets the message.

He doesn’t and I find myself forced to retreat until I am up against the wall, held in place by his hands to either side of me, and with no means of easy escape.

‘Look, buddy,’ I finally lose my temper. ‘I don’t care who you are, but if I were you, I would walk away, right now.’

That only makes him laugh at me.

‘I think I am going to enjoy this,’ he tells me as he leans forward in an attempt to kiss me.

‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you,’ I state.

A large, black gloved hand grabs him by the scruff of his neck, hoists him in the air, and gives him a hard, deliberate shake before dropping him. Vader steps between us, forming a solid shield for me to hide behind. I look at the Sith Lord’s back and then the man who is sprawled across the floor at his feet, but say nothing. My protector’s pointed finger aimed at the offending party and his enraged snarl are more than enough to earn that individual an armed escort to the door. After this demonstration from Vader, it must be apparent to everyone present that he considers me to be his exclusively.

The Sith Lord waits, though, until we are well away from anyone else, save for the omnipresent translator ‘droid, before he says anything about the incident to me.

‘Did he harm you?’ he asks in Basic.

I shake my head.

‘He cornered me and tried to kiss me, but no physical damage was done,’ I answer, in English.

‘Good,’ is his response to that revelation.

‘Having to rely on a ‘droid, just to carry on a simple conversation, is a nuisance,’ I tell him.

‘You should learn Basic,’ Vader advises.

‘Maybe you should learn English,’ I suggest.

We look at each other and I start to laugh at the absurdity of it.

‘I can’t learn an entire language in a single night,’ I admit.

‘Nor can I,’ he adds.

‘Then I think we are stuck with the ‘droid,’ I reply.

‘There are ways to communicate which don’t require spoken language,’ the Sith Lord reveals. ‘Telepathy, for example.’

‘Or sign language,’ I remind him. ‘We managed most of this week without a translator on hand.’

‘True,’ he agrees with my observation.

Our back and forth banter continues for almost an hour and I find myself relaxing completely in his company. Away from the negotiating table or the battlefield, his dry, wry sense of humour, intelligence, and depth of knowledge in a wide range of topics is evident, and he seems to enjoy our verbal fencing. Vader has not given anyone an opportunity to interrupt us, either, repeatedly waving away those who tried to come close to us.

‘Dinner,’ he notes as the others in the room seek their seats. ‘I cannot eat, here, but you should.’

‘Where?’ I ask, but the Sith Lord already knows and is walking in that direction, towards the head table.

I follow him and take the seat I am shown to. Every time a new dish is brought out, I wait to see what other people do and then copy them, rather than do something wrong and draw unwanted attention to myself. The meal which is served is delicious, but the toasts and speeches throughout it are tedious to sit through. It’s no wonder Vader wanted me along to talk to him. All of this is new to me, yet for him must be repetitious and boring. I do my best to keep him entertained, until dessert is finished and people start to speak more loudly.

I swallow a final mouthful of coffee and put the cup down. We will be expected to socialize, now, and I really don’t want to do that. Anyone who talks to me will know within five minutes that I don’t fit in, regardless of my being here as the Sith Lord’s companion and guest.

‘You are a most beautiful and intriguing woman,’ Vader tells me. ‘I think you are the only person I have met on this planet who truly does not fear me, and I would like to speak with you in private.’

He’s openly flirting with me, which is something I would never have expected from him. I tip my head and start to laugh, but my amusement at his flattery has no effect on him. Instead of commenting on it, the Sith Lord stands up and turns to face me.

‘Walk with me,’ he orders and adds for the ‘droid, ‘Stay here.’

His hand grabs mine in an iron-like grip as I am pulled from the chair to my feet. I stare at him, slightly confused by his insistence that I go with him. This is a surprising move on his part, but I don’t see any way I can refuse him without causing a scene.

‘Alright,’ I agree while I wonder exactly what I am consenting to.

Vader steers us across the floor, in front of everyone there, and out into the large, paved courtyard. He continues past the water fountain and along the path to the gardens, pulling me along with my hand held firmly in his. Rather than stop once the pavilion is no longer visible, he goes further, until we are well away from anybody who might overhear us.

‘Where are you going?’ I finally work up the courage to ask.

No answer, not that I really thought he would give me one without the ‘droid to translate for us. Instead, I am drawn tight against his body and held in place. My attempt to step back only results in his arms squeezing me harder. One of his hands rests against the back of my head and he sets my cheek on his armour under his chin. There is a strange pressure on my thoughts, a smoky shadow pushing, prodding, trying to break in - and then he is there in my mind despite my attempts to keep him out.

Relax, his voice echoes within me. I am not going to hurt you, and this is faster than relying on the ‘droid.

Get out of my head, I growl at him, to no effect.

Why should I when you so obviously want me to be in you? he teases.

I don’t… I start a denial.

Yes, you do, he stops me from adding any more. You have wanted me for several days and there is no point in lying to me when we speak mind to mind.

So what if I do? I take a poke back at him. It’s not a crime to admire or want someone.

Then perhaps we should do something about it, he offers, since our desires are mutual.

Vader tugs on my hand, leading us deeper within the gardens, and into a half-hidden gazeebo lined with cushioned benches. Once in it, he reaches up and yanks the combs out of my hair, sending it cascading down to my waist. His hands cup my face as he looks at me, and I feel his heated exhalations on my lips.

I want to make love to you, he boldly states.

I reach up and trace the sharp metal cheekbones of his mask. The treaty is finished, signed, delivered, and only needs to be ratified by the Emperor. He is leaving tonight to take it back to Imperial Center. This will be my one opportunity to have him, and if I am honest with myself, after spending several hours talking to him tonight, I really do like the Sith Lord and want this.

Then make love to me, I agree to it.

I move my hands to his hips and pull him forwards, stepping backwards until I am sitting on one of the benches. My eyes stare at his codpiece but I have no idea how it comes off or if it is removable at all. Vader answers my unspoken question by releasing it in back and setting it on the cushion beside me. An unmistakeable, rather large bulge is revealed beneath his leather bodysuit, but when I go to touch him, my hands are moved away.

Turn yourself over, he orders.

I don’t argue with what he wants and position myself so that I am facing away from him, with my weight on my hands and knees. He pulls my dress up above my waist, tugs my underwear out of his way, and pushes my knees apart, spreading them to give him better access as I am dragged backwards and closer to his body. His gloved fingers start to explore me, caressing my thighs and gradually moving upwards until they slide between my folds where he begins expertly stroking me. I bite my lip to stop myself from gasping too loudly and potentially drawing attention to us. What he is doing to me feels really good, but instead of begging him for more, I push myself against his hand, urging him to continue doing more of the same.

Ready and eager? he asks.

Yes, I admit to him. I want you.

His fingers stroke me harder and more insistently. When I can’t stand it any longer he replaces them with something larger and wetter. Is that his…? I ask myself as he rubs it backwards and forwards on my body. His hand joins it, but this time for the sake of positioning. A large, domed head is pushed against my entrance and at that I finally start to have second thoughts about this. He is very big, bigger than I anticipated, and this is probably going to hurt at first. Vader gives several light, gentle thrusts, and I feel his tip glide up and down before it pokes into me in preparation. I shift myself slightly and the head and shaft slip sideways as his hips move forwards. The Sith Lord growls at that but he is soon ready again, this time with one of his hands firmly on my hip and holding me securely in place.

That’s when his comlink erupts in a burst of noise. He grabs it from his belt and snaps something into it, but doesn’t change how we are positioned. After an exchange lasting about a minute, he puts the comlink away and caresses my back. I stop myself from asking why he took the call and what it was about, since it isn’t my business to know.

We must head back, he tells me, but first…

Despite the interruption, Vader still intends to have sex with me. His fingers hold him tight to my body as he jams his tip firmly against me, poking it into position just inside me as he did before. I breathe in slowly in anticipation, knowing what will come next. As I exhale, the Sith Lord thrusts forward into me and I let out a sharp cry of pain at his size. He really is far too big for me.

My reaction prompts him to freeze immediately.

A virgin, he notes.

No, just rather small, I admit, not wanting him to be put off and stop since we have gone this far already.

If you relax, your first time with me will be easier, he suggests.

He didn’t buy into my half-truth, but he had warned me that he could tell if I lied to him.

Be gentle, please, I ask of him.

His hands stroke the outside of my thighs before they settle on my hips.

I will be, as much as I can, he promises.

He rocks both of us back and forth as he slowly works himself in deeper. It’s a good thing he can’t see my face, because every time he pushes further into me, it hurts a little, and I bite my lip to stop from crying out. Once he is entirely within me, he pauses and brushes my cheek with his hand. Being stretched tight around him and having him completely inside of me, with the leather of his warm body suit against my skin, feels good and strange at the same time. I shiver a little as I think about what I expect he will do next.

I will be fast to finish, now, he tells me.

Vader stiffens, lets out a low moan, and then drives himself hard into me a couple times.

‘Yes,’ I hear him hiss in obvious pleasure.

He makes several short, quick thrusts after that, easily moving within my now rather slippery body, before stopping. The Sith Lord stays there, buried inside me, until his erection is finally spent. I drop my head down onto my hands and close my eyes. From how wet I am, I must be full of his semen. He didn’t wear a condom or the Empire’s equivalent, but it’s far too late to do anything to change that.

The comlink is back in his hand as he pulls out of me, steps away, and starts talking to someone again. I roll myself over, and feeling the cool air on my bare skin is a bit of a shock after having Vader’s warm body next to it. Opening my legs, I quickly examine myself. There is a bit of blood smeared on me, and I am soaked with my own fluids and his as well. I look over at him. He never gave me an orgasm and I can’t help feeling a bit cheated by him because of that. Then my brain clicks and I have an unpleasant realization about the potential consequences of what we have just done. I am not on birth control and the last thing I need is an unplanned pregnancy.

I reach into my gown’s bodice, dig out some of the tissues I had stuffed into it, and clean myself, but I have no way to remove the semen he has left deep within me. By the time I have done what I can and accepted the fact that I might end up being a mother because of him, Vader has put away his comlink and is busily replacing his codpiece. Just to make a point of it to him, I put on a show of wiping away his milk coloured semen which is slowly dripping out of me, and pull my underwear back into place.

Are you prepared to be a parent? I stab at him. Because I am not ready for that, even if you are.

He takes my hand in his and lightly, gently caresses the back of it with his gloved fingers.

We will discuss that later, he parries me. Tonight, after the formalities are finished, we will go back to my assigned quarters and talk privately before I leave. Whatever happens, pregnant or not, I will always look after you.

I intend to hold you to that, I warn him.

Vader pulls me onto my feet. My dress falls back into place, and I can still feel the wetness of his semen and the throbbing from a thwarted, unfulfilled orgasm between my legs. He had better do as he has promised, I think to myself. I have always wanted to have kids, but raising his child on my own and without any support from him is not on my list of things to do in life.

Instead of setting my hand on his arm or holding my hand as he did before, he wraps his arm around my waist and rests his hand possessively on my hip.

I will welcome our child, if you are pregnant, he reassures me, and I will guard and care for both of you. You will want for nothing and not have anything to worry about.

His words calm some of my concerns. It sounds like he intends to look after everything, so I set my worries aside for the moment, and don’t object when he guides us back to the open courtyard outside of the pavilion. We have been gone long enough that I am sure people will have noted our absence and come to their own conclusions for what we have been up to.

Once we are next to the fountain, the Sith Lord stops and pulls me into a tight embrace like the one he used before. Anyone looking out here will see us and the sort of gossip that will lead to is something I prefer to avoid. I try to escape from him, squirming in his arms, to no avail. There is a hard pressure against my mind again and that shadowy darkness I associate with him. Whatever he is up to, I decide that I want no part of it.

Get out of my head! I snap at him.

It’s necessary, he tells me. I need to protect you and it will be easier for me to shield both of us with the Force if we are linked. Now, stop fighting me and relax.

Than just makes me resist him more.

No time left, he announces, and no other choice.

Blackness swamps my thoughts as explosions sound behind him. I see bursts of light as the building we are outside of is blown apart, so I cling to the Sith Lord, hoping that he can keep us safe as he has claimed. Debris rains down around us, but does not touch either of us because he is pushing it away somehow. The strange stories and rumours I have heard and read about his abilities are obviously true.

Vader turns around, to see how much damage has been done, and as he moves, I look for myself. Little is left of the pavilion’s structure, and those who were inside have probably been crushed under the rubble from the collapsed roof. I breathe in a sharp gasp. If he hadn’t dragged me out into the gardens to have sex with him, we would be dead, too. My body starts to shiver and my hands shake as shock and all of the implications hit me. He must have known beforehand that this was going to happen, but chose to save only me and said nothing to warn anyone else.

A blinding flash prompts him to whip both of us around again. The gas main has ruptured and ignited, I guess, as I close my eyes and try to ignore the bright dots and red haze that fills my vision. When I open them, that is still there, so I shut them again and keep them tightly shut, ignoring the pain and tears which have started. When a gloved hand tips my face up, moves it from side to side, and brushes away my tears, I don’t resist.

You looked, Vader states.

Bad timing, like stepping into one of your lunges, I admit.

Keep them closed, he decides. You are in shock and have flash burns to your eyes. I must take you to my flagship for proper treatment.

What about… I start to ask, but he silences me with a finger across my lips.

This was an assassination attempt aimed at me, he reveals. I must contact my Admiral and arrange for the site to be secured and investigated. We will talk, later.

I listen to him giving orders over his comlink, not understanding any of it. As he continues to speak, I start to feel dizzy and slump against him. He picks me up in his arms when my legs give way and I am cradled securely to his chest. Vader stands there, holding me, until I hear the sounds of several large ships landing nearby. Voices of his men and troops surround us, but he does not hand me over to any of them. I am carried carefully up a ramp, set down on a soft surface, and made comfortable. The Sith Lord covers me with his cloak and now that I am safe, I finally give up my attempts to remain awake. There is no point in fighting it, so I let myself go limp.

***

The place I wake up in is quiet and smells much the same as the hospitals I am familiar with. I can’t see anything and when I lift a hand to my face, I realize that my eyes have been protected with bandages. The bed is comfortable, the covers soft, and the air warm. I don’t hear anyone in the room so I must be alone. Rather than stay awake, I settle myself under the blankets and go to sleep again.

***

The second time I wake up, I can hear even, regulated breathing beside the bed and feel that dark, shadowy presence in my mind. A gloved hand touches my cheek, but does not linger.

You are awake, he notes.

And on your flagship? I guess.

Yes, he answers.

When can I go home? I ask.

There is a long pause. Either he doesn’t want to tell me or he suspects that I won’t like what I will be told.

We will discuss that later, he gives me an evasive response.

Later, I repeat. How much later?

Later, he says a second time and I hear him step away from the bed, leaving me on my own once again.

***

By the next time Vader comes to see me, I have figured out how to navigate between the bed and the bathroom, and how to use those facilities. Eating has been a far less successful venture. The nutrient drink that the officers and crew have for their meals makes me violently ill, and the food I have been given instead of that is bland and rather tasteless. I push the stew around on my plate and force myself to take another mouthful while I listen to the Sith Lord talking to the doctor.

The only thing wrong with me is my eyes. Other than that, I am healthy, if bored of being stuck in here with nothing to do and no one to talk to. Vader finishes his conversation and comes over to me. He takes the tray of food away before snapping something at the doctor.

What they have given you to eat is not acceptable, he states. I will see to it that you are brought a proper meal, once you have been released into my custody.

Am I being let out? I ask.

Momentarily, he reveals. We need to check on how you are healing, first.

His hands touch the bandages on my face and begin to unwind them. I keep my eyes tightly shut. The darkness I have become accustomed to lightens, but I resist the temptation to open them.

Open your eyes slowly, I am instructed.

I do as I am told.

Everything is a fuzzy blur.

Vader is a large, black, vaguely human shaped figure against the white of the walls and the doctor is even less recognizable to me. I lift my hand and look at it, bringing it right up to my face. Distance does not make much of a difference.

My hands start to shake. If this is the best it will be then I am effectively blind.

I can’t see, I tell Vader. I can’t see anything except blurry blobs.

He says something to the doctor and swaps places with him. I co-operate while my eyes are examined, but I doubt that there will be any good news from that. The doctor leaves the room for a moment before returning. The Sith Lord has another discussion with him and then obviously dismisses him. It is just the two of us in here, now.

Lean forward, he orders.

His hands pull the back of the medical tunic away from my skin and stick something on it between my shoulder blades.

Med-patch, he reveals. It will need to be changed in a few days and you will need to always have one on you to keep what vision you have stable and in the state it is now. With time, it might improve, but there are no guarantees.

I quietly consider that information. It could be worse, much worse. My sight could be completely gone, and as it is, I think I can learn to cope with this.

Would you like to go to your new quarters? The Sith Lord asks.

I nod and toss back the covers on the bed, shift myself about to sit on the edge of it and wait for him to help me to my feet. He sets my hand on his arm so that he can act as a guide, and leads me through his ship. The hallways are a uniform grey and I can identify troopers by their white armour and crew and officers by the colour of their uniforms. Individual faces are far too blurry for me to make out any features. I tighten my grip on Vader’s arm. Please let my vision improve, I silently pray. Living like this will be a trial.

My personal quarters are right next to yours, he tells me, stopping in front of a niche in the wall. I will key the door to mine to open for you, so that you can find me, if you need to, but it would be best if you do not go outside of your rooms on your own.

Venturing out alone will definitely be a bad idea. I would walk into people or quickly become lost on his ship or end up in a restricted area where I shouldn’t be.

He lifts my hand up and sets it on a flat surface, doing the same again after leading me a few meters down the hallway.

Your rooms, Vader ushers me in after opening the door.

He describes the first one to me as a sitting area, with a table and two comfortable chairs in it. The next one is a combination kitchen and dining room, but since my meals will be brought to me, I have no need to do much in it other than eat. My bedroom is spacious, with the bathroom, or as the Sith Lord calls it, ‘fresher, located off to one side, and clothes for me are stored in a convenient set of compartments. I can explore later, I decide as I carefully sit down on the edge of the bed. Right now, I want answers to some important questions.

How long will I be staying here? I ask the first one.

Vader sits down beside me.

We are on our way to Imperial Center so it will be a while, he replies.

He must have left Earth on schedule or close to it rather than wait and delay delivering the treaty to the Emperor.

What am I supposed to do? I venture next.

There is a long pause before he answers.

Learn Basic and about the Empire, he gives me a list of suggestions. Keep me company, and amuse me.

Some of those will certainly be useful. Knowing Galactic Basic will make it easier to communicate, although I have become accustomed to the telepathy he prefers to use with me. What he means by keeping him company and amusing him still remains to be explained to me, but I suspect I already know. I reach towards him and set my hands on his chest once I find him. His fingers pull one of them away and bring it over to my middle. He keeps our hands there, his fingers entwined in mine over where our child would be.

Am I pregnant? I ask my third question.

No, he tells me, but I will be responsible for your care regardless of that.

That news is a relief to me and to my surprise, also a bit of a disappointment. A child will be difficult to look after in your current state, I remind myself, and you can always have one later. I close my eyes and let out a sigh. There are many more things I need to know, but at the moment, those can wait.

You are tired. I should go and let you rest, Vader says as he releases my hand and pulls the other one away from his chest.

Stay, please, I insist.

After spending two days on my own, without anyone to have a conversation with, I want to talk to him for a while.

Let me make sure that no one will interrupt us, he decides.

He speaks to someone over his comlink then I hear him drop that gadget on the floor.

Done, he reveals. Now, what do you want to know?

Everything, I suggest.

About? he hints.

You, I somehow work up the courage to say it.

There is no sound in the room other than his regulated breaths for several very long minutes. I have asked for something he is not comfortable discussing and he is debating what to tell me.

I am the Emperor’s second and Supreme Commander of the military, he finally starts talking. Usually I am sent to deal with problems that no one else can handle, and your home world was seen as a particularly belligerent case. Hopefully, I will not be needed there, again. When I am not with the fleet I am at Imperial Center or in a castle on one of my private worlds. You do not need to know any more than that about what my work entails.

I drop my eyes to my lap and stare at my hands. That sounded more like a synopsis of his c.v. than anything else, and was a polite rebuke to not pry further into his business.

I’m sorry, I apologize to him, not having any idea what else to say.

Don’t be, he tells me. You do not yet know what you can and cannot ask.

He lifts my chin with his fingers. I blink at him, at that black blur beside me. When he moves his hand away, I grab it with both of mine, needing that physical contact with him to ground my new reality.

Stay, I stop him from leaving. I want you.

You still want me? he asks and I can sense the surprise behind his words.

Yes, I admit, seeing no reason to hide it. I still want you to make love to me.

Good, he reassures me, because I still want to make love to you, so come here.

I let him guide me onto his lap and don’t resist when he opens the tunic and takes it off of me. His hands are warm, gentle as he caresses my breasts, and I slowly start to relax. When they move lower, tear apart the trousers, and toss aside what is left of them, I start to laugh. Darth Vader is not going to let a mere item of clothing get in his way. I take his unspoken hint as he slides a finger downwards from my stomach, and open my legs to invite him to explore further. His fingers touch me, stroke me, and I gasp loudly at how good it feels to encourage him to continue. As I press myself on his hand, wanting something, needing something from him, he slides a finger inside me and shoves me over the edge. I muffle my cries of pleasure against his chest as I finally have my first orgasm with him, my muscles clamping down rhythmically around him and hips pushing in time with that against his hand. This is even better than what I had been told it would be like. He pulls his hand away and holds me close after my climax finishes, letting me rest for a few minutes.

You certainly enjoyed that, he notes.

I don’t admit to him that it was a new experience for me, but I do want more of it.

Could you do that to me again, please? I suggest.

On your back and in the middle of the bed, he orders, lightly slapping my rear to speed me on my way once I am off his lap.

I crawl into the center of the bed and make myself comfortable. The Sith Lord drops his cloak on the floor and a few other things I can’t make out, too. Scrunching up my face does not help me to see things any clearer, so I give up and shut my eyes. I open them when I feel him join me on the bed. Hands slide under my knees, raise them, and move them apart. He’s opted for a more traditional arrangement this time, as he kneels between my legs and positions himself. Vader rests his upper body weight on one hand while the other is busy elsewhere, lining things up until I feel him give a quick, light thrust into my body. There is no resistance when he pushes fully into me, but he is slow and gentle at the start, nonetheless. My body stretches around him once he is completely inside, and his thrusts after that are faster, deeper, and harder than they were the first time we did this.

Not knowing what to do with my hands, I opt to wrap my arms around him, and discover that he has removed his surcoat and belt as well as his cloak and codpiece. My fingers dig into the black leather of his bodysuit and claw at him when he triggers another orgasm for me.

I can’t hold back any longer, he warns me.

His hips grind on mine as he thrusts hard and fully into me, his own moans blending together with mine. For a minute after that, he occasionally gives another hard thrust, but eventually he is completely spent and doesn’t move other than a finger slowly tracing a path across my lips. I kiss it and he laughs at me for doing that before he pushes himself up and away from my body.

I roll onto my side and sigh contentedly. It’s a little bit sore between my legs, but it’s a good ache and not too painful.

Shall we do that again, tomorrow? the Sith Lord asks.

If he is willing to make love to me, I won’t object.

Tomorrow and every day after that, I suggest to him.

He moves from the bed and tosses his cloak over me as a blanket. I rub the soft fabric against my face and sigh again.

Little hedonist, he teases me.

I listen to him replace what he had removed and watch him sit down next to me. He is looking at me in that measuring way of his, but I don’t call him on it. For several minutes he stays there, not moving, not saying anything. Finally, he takes my hand and starts speaking in a language I don’t recognize.

What did you just say? my curiosity prompts me to seek an explanation.

My lover has come, my heart rejoices, my arms are opened to embrace her. O light one, you belong to me forever, as my beloved mistress has come to me! the Sith Lord quotes what is obviously a love poem at me.

That’s beautiful, I tell him.

As are you, my mistress, he replies.

I am not just a one night stand or temporary lover to him, but one he intends to keep for some time to come.

He squeezes my hand, releases it, and caresses my cheek.

Rest, now, he orders. I will return to you later.

***

Despite the medications, what the doctors have said, and days of patient waiting, I still can’t see anything other than light and shadow, strong contrasts, and broad movements. Without a pair of properly functioning eyes there is nothing for me to do other than sit about trying to stop myself from going crazy. At home, I would be considered fairly useless - can’t see, can’t work, can’t really teach, can’t fence, can’t do anything.

I know that my lover is nearby because I can feel that shadowy presence of his growing stronger in my mind. Is he too busy or will he pay me one of his visits to my assigned rooms, my prison of sorts? The door opens and I have my answer, but for the first time, he is not alone.

You will co-operate with my aides, he tells me.

Not that I can put up much of a fight in my semi-blind state, I think to myself. I let the two women he has brought with him guide me into my bedroom, strip off my clothes and dress me like a large sized doll. Vader has some purpose behind this and resisting what he wants will only make my life more difficult. In very little time, they put me into a pale grey gown, twist my hair up into a formal style, and expertly apply makeup to my face. As soon as they are finished with me, I am brought back into my sitting room.

You are very beautiful, the Sith Lord judges my appearance.

He lifts up my hand, sets it on his arm and leads me out. One hallway looks much the same to me as another, so there is no point in trying to memorize our route or attempting to figure out where he is taking me. When we enter what must be one of the hangers, I stop in place, pulling on his arm as he steps past me. Vader keeps moving, forcing me to either walk at his side or be dragged along. I decide that the latter is not an option and go with him instead. We pass by rows of silent troops and uniformed men, arranged by what I guess are their ranks, and all of them seem to have been waiting for us. Once we reach the front, the Sith Lord stops and turns to face me.

I stare up at him. His black armour is a fuzzy, stark silhouette against the bland grey of the walls.

You will say what I tell you to, when I tell you to say it, he instructs.

No, I won’t, I immediately refuse to co-operate. I want to know what is going on.

A gloved hand lifts up my chin while the other lightly brushes against my cheek.

This is not the time for you to have an argument with me, he cautions me. Just do as I have asked, and I will explain to you why, later.

Later. That is his favourite word for putting things off, avoiding an explanation, and being evasive.

I decide to keep being stubborn and see what he says about it.

And if I refuse? I ask.

It will make no difference in the outcome, merely postpone the inevitable, he reveals. If this does not happen now, it will be tomorrow or the next day. Co-operate today and it will be simpler and easier on you, and I will reward you with whatever you ask of me.

He has me trapped. I have been backed onto the edge of the piste, with no possible means of victory available to me, but his vague enticement intrigues me.

Alright, I agree, but you have made a promise and I will make sure that the reward is worth it.

Ask of me what you want and it will be yours, he reassures me.

For the next few minutes, I do as I am told, speak the words in Basic he tells me to say when I am prompted, and don’t put up a fight, although a part of me wants to. As he whispers something to me that only I can hear, his hands find mine and he holds them gently in his between us. That seems to be a signal to those who are watching. Applause echoes off the walls and we are quickly surrounded by officers, troopers, and his flagship’s crew. Vader lets my hands go and the press of bodies quickly separates me from him. The same two aides who dressed me earlier escort me away from the mob. I twist my head around, trying to locate the Sith Lord, who is easy to identify at the center of the crowd, but he makes no move to follow me.

The bedroom his aides bring me to is a new one to me. It is larger than mine, has dark walls and contains a much bigger bed with a light colored blanket on top of it. This time, they remove the gown and I am led into a ‘fresher to have a bath and wash my face. Their excited chatter means nothing to me as I am dressed in a soft, white nightgown and feel the med patch on my back being replaced. I sit in the center of the bed and hug my knees to my chest after they leave, rather than stumble around in unfamiliar surroundings. If nothing else, my living quarters have improved, I dryly note, but I suspect that my change in circumstance has something to do with whatever happened in the hangar.

Several hours pass and I cannot stay awake any longer. I give up waiting for Vader to appear and explain this afternoon’s events, and crawl under the blankets and sheets. Soon, I am asleep, but I am pulled out of my dreams by the sound of a door opening. That is followed by booted footsteps and regulated breathing which draws closer. The bed shifts as he sits down beside me, but I don’t let him know I am awake. I feel his hand take my left one and slide a ring onto my finger before he leans over and touches my cheek.

Sleep, my wife, he orders.

Then he is gone.

I sit up in bed, completely awake now, with sleep the furthest thing from my mind. The ring he has just put on my finger, an old tradition from my home world, confirms it.

‘Damn him, damn him, damn him!’ I vehemently curse aloud.

He knew that I would never willingly consent to marriage.

In marrying me he has ensured that I will be a permanent part of his life, regardless of my feelings or wishes. My hands shake a little as I face up to what our marriage means. Since he is now my husband, he will have to treat me as his wife, but am I really prepared for this, for being the Lady of a Sith Lord?

Think of what he has done as reaching the winning point in a duel, I decide. He has broken your defenses and backed you up against the end of the piste, just as he did down in the hangar. There are two choices: either step off the strip and completely concede to him, or move forward and counter-attack in a manner he does not expect.

I fold back the bed covers and slowly, carefully, get up. With my fingertips, I follow the wall to the door and brush over its controls until I locate what I need. It opens in front of me at my touch. The room I find myself in is large, grey-walled, and with some sort of black sphere in it. Nothing else is large or distinct enough in shape for me to identify other than my new husband. Vader is kneeling on a platform to one side, but he turns his head to look at me. He waves his hand at something, rises to his feet, and walks over to me.

You should be in bed resting, wife, he scolds me.

On our wedding night, you should be in bed with me, husband, I counter.

There is a pause from him, so I take that opening, hoping that my strategy of choice works. If he thinks I am going to be too demanding or too much of a problem, he might just change his mind about being married to me.

I want my reward, I boldly state. I want to bear your child.

He is silent and there is a slow, deliberate inhalation which overrides his normally regulated breathing. I have landed a hit and from his reaction, perhaps my suspicions are correct that his injuries have left him incapable of siring a child. None of our sexual encounters have resulted in a pregnancy, not even the one on my home world when the timing was ideal for it to happen.

Very well, he agrees, to my complete surprise. I did not expect you to consent to this, but I will do as you ask and give you a child, since we both want one.

He has deftly avoided my lunge and followed it with a successful riposte that I have no way to parry or avoid. My risky gamble has failed. All I can do now is try to control the timing of my pregnancy.

When? I ask.

Now, he decides. It may take several tries, once we know what days are best for you, but there is no reason to not to start tonight, on our wedding night.

I take a physical step backwards. This is not how I expected him to respond, which was with more of his ‘laters’ and putting me off. All I have done is encouraged him to keep me as his wife and pushed him to sire a child on me as soon as possible.

Vader extends his hand towards me. I stare at it, at that fuzzy, indistinct black blur. You asked him to give you his child, and he is perfectly willing to do that for you. Refusing at this point will be awkward and messy, and I am rather curious what he will do, and if he will take off his armour. It could be worse, far worse, I remind myself as I set my hand in his and he pulls me into his embrace. He actually likes me and I can live with him as my spouse. I tuck my head under his mask, rest my cheek on his armour, and sigh contentedly. His reaction to my acceptance of him as my husband is to pick me up in his arms and carry me into what I suspect will become our shared bedroom.

There are limitations because of my life support systems, the Sith Lord admits as he sets me down on the bed.

I try to sit up, but he holds me in place with his hand and sits down next to me. His fingers brush across my lips so I nervously smile up at him. Sex with him in his armour is always awkward for both of us, so I had better let him take the lead as I have in the past. His hands move lower, pull open the ties at my throat, and expose my chest, allowing him to slowly explore my breasts. He does this for a few minutes then reaches down and slips one hand under my nightgown, rucking the fabric up above my waist. Vader is moving far faster with this than I am ready for. I tighten the muscles in my thighs, refusing to open my legs to him, but he is far stronger than I am.

Relax, he suggests as he pushes my knees apart. Enjoy my touch, and it will be easier…

His comment stops as slides a finger into me, only to pull it back, and lift up his hand to examine it. I feel him considering, measuring, deciding what to do next. Obviously he is not quite sure what I will let him do with me now that we are married. I know from previous experience that he needs to take plenty of time during foreplay to relax me and settle my nervous streak.

Vader stands up and goes into the ‘fresher. For many minutes he stays in there, with the door closed, presumably doing something, although I have no idea what that might be. When the ‘fresher door finally opens, I roll over and look in that direction. No black armoured Sith Lord is standing there - just a tall, broad shouldered man, wrapped in a dark robe, with his pale face uncovered. I blink at him, not quite sure if I am seeing who I think I am.

‘Lord Vader?’ I say his name aloud.

‘Anakin,’ his unamplified baritone voice corrects me.

He quickly returns to my side and drops his robe on the floor beside the bed. On his chest, his life support controls flash continuously. I ignore them because that is what he must have meant when he said there were limitations; he cannot remove that one, vital piece of equipment from his body.

In here, between us alone, call me Anakin, he tells me.

I reach a hand towards his face and he doesn’t flinch away. My blurry vision means that I can’t clearly see any of his features, but I want to know what they are like. A smile curves his lips, crinkles his eyes, as I touch him, and his mouth kisses my hand before I pull it away.

I have blue eyes, and have - well, had, dark blonde hair, he admits.

He leans over, kisses my forehead then my lips, and my husband knows exactly how to do this. His tongue meets mine, teases me, torments me as his slides it in and out of my mouth. When I do the same to him, he pulls back and laughs, but his focus is soon elsewhere after he pulls the nightgown from my body and tosses it aside. I let out a soft moan as his lips contact my breasts, reacting to how he swirls his tongue against my skin and sucks, like an infant would, on my nipples. His cool metal fingers are busy, too, slowly tracing paths across my skin, caressing me, touching me, searching, seeking, finding every sensitive spot and exploiting each in turn, until he has only one left to explore.

I grab the hand he is brushing my hair with and hold it tight as I arch up from the bed in an attempt to improve on the sensations he is producing in me. His other hand never moves, never stops insistently stroking me, and his mouth meets mine again. My body finally responds to his touch, and pleasure ripples through me. Muscles pulse, roll, and I gasp at what I am feeling. Then everything happens much more rapidly than I am prepared for. Vader shifts position before I can stop him and there is pressure exerted between my legs as he pushes against me. Pain immediately follows as he thrusts into me, pulling me onto himself with his hands on my hips. Tonight, I am not ready for him, and without being primed properly, he is too big for me.

‘Ow!’ I cry out in protest to him.

He freezes in place.

You are too big for me tonight and it hurts, I try a different method of communication.

His thrusts which follow are slow, gentle, shallow, and carefully controlled, but I doubt that he will want to wait any longer than necessary. He continues what he is doing until I am better lubricated then he pauses, thrusts hard a few times and moans my name aloud. Within me, I feel his continuing spasms, so I wrap my arms around his back and hook my ankles together behind his thighs, keeping him in me, and refusing to let him immediately withdraw when he tries to.

If you want to sire a child on me, you need to wait until you are completely done, I tell him, and stay there for a while to keep your semen inside of me, too.

His answer to that is to rest his weight on his hands and kiss me again. I kiss him back and playfully go along with trading kisses with him, holding him close until he finally pushes himself away and slides out of me. We curl up together on our sides after that, with him behind me, his right arm draped over my waist and left under my head. In his arms, I am safe, secure, protected, and loved.

What did you say to me in the hangar, at the end of our wedding ceremony? I ask him.

He laughs in my ear.

‘And I love you, too,’ he answers in English instead of using Basic.

I turn my head so I can look closely at his face. Even though I can’t see it very clearly, he’s smiling. He must have asked someone what I had said to him on that day which feels so long ago, now.

‘And I love you, too, Anakin,’ I repeat it back to him, in Basic.

***

For the first time in my life, my period is late, and not just by a day or two - it is overdue by over a week. I turn my head and look towards my husband. He is busy at his desk reviewing reports of rebel activity, but as long as I don’t disturb him, he lets me keep him company. When he hasn’t been working or otherwise occupied, he has helped me to learn Basic. Despite his best efforts, I still have problems with that language at times and I don’t know all the words I need. I lift a shaking hand to my mouth as I hesitate. He needs to know and I must tell him, but I am afraid, very afraid. It has taken months and many attempts to reach this point.

What if I am wrong? Will he be disappointed, like every time before? Should I wait for another week just to be certain?

‘Anakin,’ I quietly call to him with his private, personal name, letting him know by my using it that I need to speak to him about something important.

He leaves his desk, comes over, and sits down beside me so that I won’t be forced to look up at him.

I take a deep breath.

‘Anakin, I’m pregnant,’ I tell him.

His hand brushes across my stomach and then rests on it, motionless.

‘Yes, you definitely are,’ he confirms.

I set my hand over his and smile, relieved that my suspicions were correct, and that we will soon have the child we both want.

‘Happy?’ he asks me, so I nod in answer. ‘Good. I am very pleased with you. You will give me a strong heir.’

‘Is it a boy?’ I hint for more information.

‘No, a girl,’ he replies. ‘Hopefully, the next one will be a boy. I would like one of each.’

Gloved fingers pull my hair away from my face and tuck it behind an ear. I lean towards him and he tugs me onto his lap, wrapping me in his arms once I am comfortable. He’s warm to curl up to and I just want to be held.

‘I can indulge you, for a little while,’ he allows.

‘A reward for me?’ I suggest.

‘A reward for you,’ he agrees.

***

I stand nervously beside my husband and wait to be led out of the turbolift. We have been ordered to appear before the Emperor, but I don’t know why because Palpatine has ignored me until now. The room the ‘lift stops at is dark and poorly lit, making it impossible for me to distinguish much of anything. Anakin guides me across the floor, up the stairs, and kneels, with me at his side, once we reach the top.

‘I am most disappointed with you, my apprentice,’ I hear the voice of an old man, the Emperor, from somewhere in front of us.

There is the sound of a command chair being swivelled about. I keep my eyes on the floor and don’t move. Footsteps approach us, accompanied by the tap of a cane. Those stop right in front of me. A cold hand grabs my chin and tips my face up, but all I can see is a dark figure looming over me.

‘Blind, Forceless, unsophisticated, from an Outer Rim world and family with no wealth or influence, and pregnant with a daughter, not a son. The only feature to recommend her is a pretty face,’ he describes me with great contempt, concluding with, ‘A pathetic choice for your wife.’

His fingers tighten on my face then shove me away. I lose my balance and end up sprawled across the floor. My husband says nothing to defend me and makes no move to help me, so I stay where I am on my side and wait to see what happens. The Emperor’s cane traces a path from my ankles to my knees, going as far as he can before stopping to rest it between my legs.

‘Tell me, Lord Vader, is she at least a decent lover?’ the old man asks, his tone dripping with spite. ‘Or have you settled for mediocrity there as well?’

His walking stick moves to my stomach. I shove it away with my hand in a vain attempt to protect my daughter.

‘She is harmless and weak, and no threat to anyone. Since you are obviously fond of her, I will let her live and allow you to keep her as your wife, but you will rid her of the child, immediately,’ he orders. ‘We will soon have Skywalker, so it is superfluous and no longer needed.’ A pause, ‘And you will not breed another one on her.’

‘As you wish, my master,’ the Sith Lord agrees with him.

Anakin? I think desperately at him.

The black, blurry figure which is my husband rises to its feet and kneels beside me. One of his hands grabs my shoulder, rolling me onto my back and pinning me in place while he sets the other low on my stomach, above our child. I have no idea what he intends to do to me, but it cannot be any good for me or for our daughter.

Please, don’t do this to me, I resort to begging. Please, Anakin, please. Think of our unborn daughter. Think of me.

I am thinking of her and you as well, he finally answers me. What I must do will hurt you, but it is necessary to save your life and will not last for very long. I need you to remember that.

I try to escape from him, but a vicious cramp radiates through my middle and I scream in pain. My husband has obeyed the Emperor, instead of protecting our daughter, and somehow triggered a miscarriage inside me.

He unhooks his lightsaber and sets it in my hand, hiding both in the folds of my gown.

Remember, he repeats that word to me, and then more insistently. Remember.

‘It will not take long for her to miscarry at this stage of her pregnancy,’ he tells the Emperor. ‘An hour or two, perhaps.’

I curl up in a ball on my side and start to cry, but nothing I do eases the heartache I am feeling. Each painful cramp reminds me of what and who I am about to lose.

It is almost more than I can bear.

‘It hurts, it hurts, it hurts,’ I start whimpering. ‘Please, make it stop hurting.’

‘Leave her,’ Palpatine orders. ‘We have matters to discuss. You can take her to my private medical facilities to be seen to once we are done.’

A gloved hand gently squeezes my shoulder then he stands up and joins the Emperor. He cannot say it aloud, but my husband did not want to do what he has just been forced to by his master. Both men move away from me, turn their backs to me, and begin a discussion I cannot hear. I finger the weapon in my hand and slowly crawl across the floor, stopping each time another cramp hits before I make myself continue. My determined effort goes undetected, so intent on their conversation they have become.

I take a few deep breaths, wait out the next cramp and judge the distance between them and myself. There will be only one chance, here, and I must approach my target carefully. I intend to make him pay in full for the killing of my unborn child. My fingers find the armrest of the command chair and I use it to pull myself upright. The lightsaber in my hand ignites on its own and as I look at the lit blade, programmed muscle memory takes over. I snap it into a low guard, swing it through the black figure in front of me and recover into a middle guard before targeting the other dark silhouette and starting to repeat the same sequence. Instead of striking a second killing blow, however, I find my blade blocked by another one.

‘Enough, wife,’ Anakin growls at me. ‘He’s dead and you can rest, now.’

I drop the lightsaber he has somehow extinguished, and collapse in an unconscious heap at his feet.

***

I wake in a familiar bed, held in my husband’s arms, in the dark. For a moment, I struggle to break out of his grasp, but he is far stronger than I am and pins my hands and body down so I can do nothing.

‘I hate you,’ I hiss at him.

‘What I did to you was necessary,’ he tells me.

‘Killing our unborn child was not ‘necessary’,’ I snap at him.

He moves one of my hands down to my midsection, which is the same size it was a day ago.

‘She’s fine,’ he reveals. ‘I gave you a really bad case of stomach cramps, instead. You need to remember what I told you.’

Remember.

He told me to remember on my home world, when he trained me, no, programmed me, to use that sequence of moves.

‘Lights, low, slow implementation,’ he orders.

I look up at him and blink repeatedly as the room gradually becomes brighter. Staring down at me with intense blue eyes is a middle aged man, a scar across his pale cheek, and nothing but concern and worry on his face.

‘Anakin?’ I question him in a shaky voice.

‘Easy, now,’ he soothes me. ‘It will take you a while to readjust to seeing properly again.’

I lift my hand to his face and follow his cheekbone with my fingers. His features are the same as what I know from touching him, but his appearance is not quite what I had envisioned in my mind.

‘How?’ I ask.

He points to the med-patch on the floor. I reach behind my back, only to find that I am not wearing one.

‘You drugged me?’ I state the obvious. ‘You drugged me and let me think I would be permanently blind? You bastard!’

I punch him with my fist as hard as I can, landing a solid blow on his shoulder. My husband grabs my hand before I am able to do that a second time.

‘I will grant you that first one, since I have earned it, but you will never strike me again,’ he warns me.

The Sith Lord releases my hand.

‘I had to do it to keep you safe,’ he tells me. ‘My master would only leave you alone and let you live if he thought you were of no consequence and harmless.’

‘How much of the last year has been an elaborate lie?’ I accuse him. ‘Did you arrange for that building to be destroyed on my home world as well as for me to be blinded? Have I only been a convenient body for you to use for your pleasure and to breed an heir on, and a weapon for you to unleash when you needed it?’

Silence.

I let out a frustrated noise and roll onto my side, turning my back on him while I think about what I should do. He must have planned all of this before I ever met him and was probably looking for the ideal candidate - me - to carry out his assassination scheme. My husband just took advantage of me and my feelings for him, and manipulated the situation as it suited him to make me appear to be no real threat to anyone. In a way, I have to admire him. From a strategic and tactical viewpoint, what he has done to seize the throne, in an essentially bloodless coup d'état, is brilliant.

An arm wraps around my waist and pulls me backwards. I try to shake him off, but he rolls me over to face him.

‘I have never once lied to you,’ my husband insists. ‘Avoided telling you everything, yes, but that was always to protect you, not to harm you.’ And this is true, too, he adds, setting his mouth on mine and kissing me passionately, my love for you is, and always has been, completely real.

He cannot lie to me, mind to mind, so I know that what he has said is the truth.

‘And I love you, too,’ I whisper against his lips when he gives me a chance to breathe.

‘And I love you, too,’ he repeats it back to me before he kisses me again.

Duels of Light and Shadow: Shadow

I ignore the others in the room and walk over to the window rather than engage any of them in pointless conversation. It is only the first day of the treaty negotiations, but I have already identified those who will resist, those who will give in with a little effort or a few threats, and those who are more concerned with what will be to their advantage and will agree to whatever feeds their greed.

Sentient beings are the same everywhere. All I must do is find their weaknesses and then exploit them.

This planet is no different than any of the others I have been sent to with the intention to bring it under the Empire’s heel. At first they will praise themselves for their false cleverness and the agreement they have struck, but soon, very soon, my master’s fingers will tighten his grip around them and bleed this world dry of its resources. I have seen it all before.

The process no longer amuses me; it now bores me.

‘Shall we break for lunch?’ the translator ‘droid suggests.

‘If we must,’ I dryly state, ‘but you will excuse me if I opt out of the meal.’

The room empties. I continue to stare at the buildings across the street. Movement draws my attention to a group, in white, who are obviously warming up for some sort of physical exercise. My interest spikes as I recognize the footwork patterns, and my suspicions are satisfied when the swords are brought out. Here, on this isolated Outer Rim world, an analog of one of the oldest Jedi lightsaber forms still exists and is being taught with metal weapons.

Fascinated, I watch the woman, who is obviously their master, run her students through drills, correcting hand positions, footwork, attacks, and parries for almost an hour before she sets them to duelling with each other. I keep my attention specifically on her, noting how she tailors what she does to the skill level of who she is working with. This is someone with years of experience and who knows precisely what she is doing.

As they begin to pack up and prepare to leave, she turns, tips her head up, and looks straight at me, although she cannot actually see me through the tinted pane. Even without the Force, my scrutiny has been noticed by her.

I smile behind my mask.

Perhaps my time here will not be as tedious or boring as I had previously expected.

***

The next few days are just as tiresome, with the only relief from it being the hour at noon when I can watch the fencing master in the flagstone paved courtyard across the street. My presence has not just been noted by her, but also her students. Their numbers have slowly decreased until she is alone.

She drops her equipment bag on a bench and sets her hands on her hips, obviously waiting for someone else to join her. After a few more minutes, she shakes her head in frustration and chooses to work out on her own. It is obvious from her rapid movements and superb technique that she holds back when duelling with her students. My fingers twitch in response. Here is, perhaps, an ideal candidate for my plans and I need to evaluate her more closely. If only I were not stuck in here, listening to a bunch of political sycophants, but my master’s orders, in this case, must come first.

Her drills finished at last, she turns, looks at me, sweeps her blade up in front of her face and then downwards to her side in a formal salute. By now, she must know that I am here and who I am, but has no fear.

That cheeky, mischievous acknowledgement decides it for me.

I motion Lieutenant Jir to my side and point to the woman across the road.

‘I want to know who she is,’ I tell him. ‘Find out everything you can and send it to me, immediately.’

***

It is lunchtime for the fools I am dealing with and an opportunity for me to escape for a while. I turn from the window once I see her begin her drills, exit the room, and take the ‘lift to the ground floor. When my aide de camp and several ‘troopers move to follow me, I dismiss them.

‘I will be across the way and in open view,’ I tell them. ‘I have no need for an escort.’

I stop once I am at the courtyard and watch the woman whose back is to me. From the report I was sent, I know that she is a decade younger than I am, and a junior faculty member at the university whose campus we are in. She is also unmarried, unattached, with no deep ties, and in every other way a perfect candidate. How easy she is to manipulate remains to be seen, but it would be better to keep that to the minimum. Her behaviours and responses will be more natural and believable without it.

Her focus is entirely on what she is doing, I note with some amusement, and it is no surprise when she backs up into me. She spins about instantly as our bodies collide and quickly retreats, her eyes wide with shock but not fear.

She voices an annoyed complaint aimed at me in her own language.

I rest my hands at my belt and wait for her to realize that I do not understand what she has said. Once she does, I look at her intently, sweep over her with my senses, probe at her with the Force, and smile at what I find. There is just enough of a connection to the Force in her to make her of use to me, but not so much that my master would see her as a threat. My invisible scrutiny, which she has detected subconsciously, prompts her to scowl.

I point a finger at the sword in her hand to indicate my interest in it, and she automatically hands it to me, hilt first, reversing the blade to point the tip at the ground. It is not designed to be used in true combat; the edges are blunt and the tip is designed to compress upon contact. The grip is for the right hand, so I test out its balance, noting how the blade reacts as I switch from parries to attacks. After many years of using only a lightsaber, it feels odd to be handling a weapon with a blade which actually has a physical mass to it. Once I have adjusted to the difference, I stop and wave my hand at her equipment bag. I know she has a number of other swords in there, and I intend to find out just how skilled she really is.

This time her words to me are a definite refusal. I recognize only one of them, ‘no,’ but that is enough to make a guess at what followed. She is not interested in duelling with me.

I set my hands on my hips and stare at her, using my physical presence and posture to communicate my displeasure at her refusal. Her response is to growl something unhappily at me when she goes to her bag. As she sorts through it, I see her furtive glances at me and let myself relax, hooking a thumb in my belt while she picks the weapon she wants. I smile at her choice. If she thinks duelling with her left hand will give her an advantage then she will very quickly discover that it will not.

‘My Lord,’ I hear Lieutenant Jir call to me. ‘Do you really think that this is wise?’

I turn and point at his chest.

‘Do not presume to tell me what to do, Jir,’ I snap at him.

‘I am merely concerned for…’ he tries to dissuade me.

‘Your only concern should be to keep the negotiations from dragging out any longer than necessary,’ I tell him.

‘But my Lord, you are being watched,’ he warns.

‘Let them watch. I do not care if they do,’ I flatly state. ‘There will be nothing of importance to see or hear.’

The look on his face is one of defeat.

‘I will await your return, my Lord,’ Jir retreats.

‘Good. I will be there once I am finished here,’ I agree as I wave him away.

My attention returns to my duelling partner. She has been watching my exchange with the Lieutenant, but as soon as she sees that we are finished, she takes a deep breath, moves her weapon in a formal salute and pulls a metal mesh mask over her face. I repeat her motions, returning the acknowledgement, and step into position, readying myself with the same mid-guard that she is using. After observing her and her students for the past week, I have learned the protocols that should be followed on this world.

I wait, patiently, for her to make the first move. Rather than press her at my full speed, I will work more slowly, just to see what she can do. When the attack I expect does not come, I opt to take the offensive and lunge, aiming directly for her heart. She retreats a step and uses a classic parry, rotating her blade underneath mine to catch it against hers and deflect it away. I move forward, this time with her lower right torso as my target, only to be blocked as she brings her weapon across her body in another parry I recognize. We continue in that manner for quite some time, with me trying the various attacks and her answering with the corresponding parries that I had seen her teaching her students.

Eventually, she responds with a riposte. I attempt to avoid a hit by jumping backwards, but fail, and the tip of her sword touches my chest armour. Better, I think, as I shake a finger at her. It was about time for her to take the offensive. I move into their starting position again and try the same attack again. This time, she drops into a crouch, ducks under my blade and hits my leg by extending hers. I react by stepping back and growling at her. That blow might have left a bruise.

Next, I try something different, and move to bind our blades, only to have her successfully avoid that and whip the top portion of her weapon against my arm. I stand there for a moment, evaluating her again. She is using tactics with me that she did not with the students, so I will speed up and push her much harder. Our match continues for quite some time, and when she steps backwards to evade me and ends up down on one knee as I result, I decide to end our contest. There is no point in beating her into the ground and I now have a good idea of what her capabilities are. I ignore those who have come to watch us, and walk over and offer her my hand, pulling her up onto her feet. After I return my weapon to her, I set my hand on her shoulder and look into her masked face.

‘Admirable,’ I praise her. ‘You are as skilled, technically, as some of the Jedi I once knew, but without the Force, you lack their speed and ability to anticipate as they could and I can. Had I the time, I would show you some of what I know.’

I remove my hand and make my way across the street. Jir is waiting for me and begins speaking almost immediately, but I silence him with a gesture and stop. We will be here for four more days, which is time enough to continue testing her. I turn around and look back. She is still watching me.

Same time, same place, tomorrow, I project at her telepathically.

Her startled reaction tells me that my message was received.

***

I wait until I see her warming up before I make my way out of the building. Jir approaches me, but raises no protests when I wave him aside.

My rather efficient spies and slicers have been monitoring her, so I know she has been busy trying to find out what she can about me from what is available publically. Today, I intend to see if that has affected how she behaves towards me. When I reach her, I hold out my hand but do not take the weapon which is offered to me.

Her reaction is a puzzled look and a question.

I take her empty left hand before she can yank it away, turn it over, and examine her palm. It is heavily calloused in the places one would expect it to be, where both of mine would be were they not prosthetics. The nails are freshly bitten as well, a nervous habit she must have. My examination prompts another comment I do not understand from her, which is probably an explanation of some sort. I compare her right and left hands, noting that the patterns of usage are the same on both.

‘You have trained yourself to fight with both equally,’ I observe, pleased by what I see. ‘Only a true warrior or dedicated devotee would go to that effort.’

I release her hands from my grasp, but do not accept the right gripped sword today, opting to take the left handed one she had intended to use instead, and pointing to her bag of equipment to signal what I want her to choose for herself. That produces a grumbled complaint, but she does take a left gripped sword, which will allow me to test her skills against a same-handed duellist.

For an hour, I push her hard, not bothering with the simple tactics of yesterday, and our exchanges become a complicated dance, a game of who can outwit and out manoeuver the other. At times, she laughs aloud and I can hear the joy in it, although I do not indulge myself with the same. Neither of us bothers to keep score and it doesn’t matter; we are duelling purely to enjoy ourselves.

‘My Lord,’ Jir’s voice breaks through my concentration. ‘Lord Vader, the delegates are ready to begin again.’

I step back, out of her range, and lower my weapon. She pulls off her mask and smiles rather wryly at me before saying something. It is probably the same as what I am thinking. We both prefer what we have been doing to our current assigned duties. I reverse the sword in my hand and offer it back to her, holding the blade above the guard as I stare at her.

‘Go, Jir,’ I dismiss my aide. ‘I will be there shortly.’

I let go of her weapon, step as close as I feel is comfortable for her, and trail my fingers across her cheek. She does not move or flinch as I sweep back the hair which has escaped from her braid, hooking it behind her ear, so I rest my hand against her face. There is no fear of me in her.

In her, have I finally met the woman I need?

‘It is fortunate that I have found you,’ I quietly say to her, ‘but I do not know how this will end for you. Perhaps I should leave you here, where you will be safe, rather than take you with me, into uncertainty and danger.’

I pull my hand away and turn from her, and as I do, she replies in a way which makes me pause. Those words were said in a gentle, teasing manner, but their meaning goes much deeper and I intend to find out exactly what she has said to me.

Tomorrow, I tell her before I walk away.

***

She shows up at the same time over the next three days. I always wait until she has warmed up before I join her, and there are no objections when I choose which hands we will use. Duelling with her has become a way for me to escape from the tedium of the negotiations Jir calls me back to each day.

I return her sword to her once our time is up and let her take it from my fingers. This will be the last day I am on her world and I still have not decided what I will do. Her skills have improved observably over the past five days, and the raw potential I saw in her at first still tempts me.

The words I hear from her have a tone of sadness in them, and that, combined with what she said three day ago, makes the choice for me. I rest my hand on her face and wave at her equipment bag with the other. After she puts the swords away and stands up again, I slide my right arm around her waist from behind and pull her close to my chest.

That action prompts a protest, which stops when I unhook my lightsaber from my belt. She is motionless, now, curious and wondering what I have planned. I take her right hand in mine and wrap her fingers around the base of my ‘saber, moving her fingers as I need to, before doing the same with her left, and setting mine over hers. There are no objections, so I ignite the blade, and wait patiently for her to adjust to holding it.

Focus on the blade, I tell her several times. Learn and remember.

Once I am certain she understands what I want her to do, I move the ‘saber, establishing a simple pattern, and training her muscles and mind to remember it. I will need her to subconsciously retain this for later. Guard, low, followed by a broad, sweeping attack, returning to the starting position she is most familiar with, then back to the low guard once more.

Remember, I repeat, until her hands are moving my lightsaber without any help from me.

I feel her begin to go limp, the hypnotic state she is in finally overwhelming her, so I shut off my ‘saber and return it to its place at my hip while I pin her against my body with my right arm. She does not stay there for long, but turns, moving to face me, and wraps her arms around my waist. I respond in kind and embrace her, keeping her upright and secure while she recovers from what I have done to her. This should take a few minutes and I do not want her to end up on the ground because that would raise too many questions. I feel her relax and hear her breathe in deeply a few times, a signal she is returning to normal.

Jir approaches, with the translator ‘droid I had told him to bring today, and it automatically tells me what she says as she sets her cheek on my chest.

‘She has said: You smell really good and I want to stay right where I am,’ it tells me.  

That is a rather peculiar comment to make

‘Ask her why she would say that to me,’ I instruct it.

I feel her freeze once she realizes I know what her words meant.

‘I like the smell of leather,’ she confesses although I can sense that there is more to it.

I let myself laugh aloud at her admission, surprising both her and Jir. No one has ever said that to me before and it amuses me that she finds my armour’s smell attractive. With a gesture, I send the Lieutenant away, but keep the ‘droid close at hand since I will require it. She tries to step back at that: I stop her by refusing to let go. 

‘Don’t move,’ I order in Basic, relying on the ‘droid to relay it to her. ‘Pretend you are still unwell and I am helping you.’

‘Alright,’ she agrees in her language and allows herself to go limp.

I play along with our charade and rest my hand on her forehead. It is time to set my plans fully into motion. For those to succeed, she must trust me completely, and my words must be chosen carefully and be entirely truthful.

‘There are reporters and others watching us, and our practice duels have been noted by your intelligence services,’ I warn her. ‘I expect that they will arrest you on some made up charge and interrogate you once I have left, regardless of your not knowing anything of use to them. Were this planet already part of the Empire, I could easily protect you. As it is, until the treaty is ratified at Imperial Center, I cannot.’

I caress her cheek with my fingers.

You have made your decision to take her from here, I remind myself.

‘Tonight, I will keep you with me, and that might be enough to make them think twice about harassing you,’ I tell her. ‘There is some pointless social function I must attend. I will see to it that you are invited as my guest, and send someone to collect you after your afternoon class is finished.’

I start to loosen my arms and let her go.

 ‘Hold me, for a few minutes, please?’ she requests of me. ‘I still feel a bit unsteady.’

Even though it is no longer necessary, she wants to prolong our embrace. I pull her close again and let her stay for a few minutes. Holding her will do no harm, reinforce my stated intention to protect her, and help to bind her to me emotionally. When I eventually release her, she makes no attempt to stop or delay me, and I leave her to pack up her gear. The ‘droid follow me back across the street, but my thoughts are no longer on the completed treaty negotiations.

***

I send Jir off with two ‘troopers to locate and retrieve my guest for the evening. The three of them should be enough to deter any potential problems. While they are gone, I scroll through the information on my datapad, making notes where necessary, and trying to keep myself occupied. Finally, I give up and set it aside.

My mind keeps wandering elsewhere.

For the first time in many years, I feel an almost nervous anticipation when I think of tonight and what might happen. If I were younger, perhaps, I might hurry to meet her, but I see no reason to rush. It will be far better if I allow everything to progress in a seemingly natural manner.

I retrieve the datapad and finish working on the treaty files. Everything must be documented and ready to send to the Emperor - not just the text of the agreement, but my own observations and suggestions for how to proceed. That task completed, I tuck the device inside my surcoat and make my way to the building’s main entrance. My time here is almost done. I will see to the final preparations and then leave for the Ambassador’s residence that has been the site of my accommodations for the past twelve days.

I am in the midst of giving orders for my shuttle to be prepared when Jir arrives with my dinner guest, but I choose to continue with that before acknowledging her presence. She is uncertain of what to do, I note, so I reach over, take her hand and set it on my arm. I should start behaving as if I am bit more attached to her, since I will need to do that tonight as well.

‘Tell her that we are going to the Imperial Ambassador’s residence, now,’ I instruct the translator ‘droid.

She gives a slow nod in response on hearing that we are leaving. I pull her attention back to me by running a finger along her cheekbone. Once she turns to face me, I point to my shuttle and lead her over to it, the ‘droid trailing after us.

‘Your seat,’ I indicate where she is to go before taking my own place next to her.

I let the ‘droid give her the necessary details for tonight. Whatever she might need to wear has already been purchased and she can pick from the selection that the ambassador’s wife put together at my request. The cost of it is inconsequential to me.

‘The banquet tonight is in the Rose Pavilion,’ it tells her. ‘Lord Vader has seen to it that what you need is at the Ambassador’s residence.’

‘Thank you,’ she quietly replies.

‘Lord Vader,’ she addresses me in Basic.

I smile at her use of my name and title, pleased that she has taken the time to learn them and their proper pronunciation.

‘What is it?’ I ask her through the ‘droid.

‘What am I supposed to do at this thing tonight?’ she replies.

What she has called a ‘thing’ is a formal reception and banquet which will be attended by several heads of state and numerous dignitaries. Her directness and innocence of politics and protocol are refreshing.

‘Amuse me,’ I suggest, since that will be part of her role tonight. ‘Talking to bureaucrats and politicians, and their spouses, bores me. You are of more interest to me than they are.’

I will use tonight to speak to her about a wide range of topics and complete my evaluation before I make my final decision.

‘You could always take a walk in the gardens to escape from them,’ she tells me.

I turn and look intently at her. The gardens should be deserted because of the tight security. There might be an opportunity for some private and personal time with her, if I take her out into them unescorted.

‘Perhaps we will do that,’ I reply.

***

I send her off with one of the ambassador’s staff and make my way to my assigned quarters. It’s time to see to my personal needs and prepare for this evening’s business. My meditation pod beckons so I step inside it, close it over myself and remove my helmet and gauntlets. With a sigh, I lean back and relax as much as I can before I reach for what I have been forced to consume for the past two weeks. Nutrient paste is unappealing at the best of times, but after having nothing else for days, I am looking forward to returning to the Executor where I have more options available to me. After eating the minimum necessary, I toss the tube aside in disgust, preferring to wait until I am on my flagship for a proper meal rather than finish it.

My second attempt at closing my eyes and resting for a few minutes lasts no longer than the first did. I ignore the incoming comm call instead of answering it as I did before. Hearing a list of who is going to be at the reception tonight is not at all important to me because it will differ little from similar events I have attended in the past. Only the faces will be new, and I have no desire to become acquainted with any of them.

That thought brings my mind around to my guest for the evening. Steepling my fingers, I rest them against my mouth and debate what approach to take with her. She is an academic, which suggests she has a sense of curiosity, and she has been trying to track down information on me. I will let her ask whatever questions she likes, but avoid giving her anything in answer that directly relates to myself. That should keep her interested as I obtain what I need to know from her.
 
A glance at the chronometer tells me that I need to leave soon. I replace my mask and helmet, pull on my gloves and go to fetch my dinner companion. Once I am at the guest suite she is in, I knock on the door rather than barge in and potentially surprise her in a state of undress. When there is no immediate response, I set my hands on my hips and wait, impatiently, for her to come to me. After another minute, she finally opens the door and steps out into the hallway. I stare at her, comparing how she looked when we duelled with her current appearance. Her hair is twisted up on top of her head, and very little makeup is on her face. The gown she has chosen is stylish and graceful, like the practical shoes on her feet. Perfectly simple and elegant, I decide. At least her choices in terms of dress are more than acceptable.

I lift her hand and squeeze it to reassure her that all is well, since there is no ‘droid on hand to interpret for us. As I lead her through the residence, I take note of the curious, but quickly hidden, stares. This, for me, is a first. Never before have I been out in public with a woman on my arm and those who see us are not sure what to make of it.

***

I guide her into the pavilion and quickly survey the seating arrangements. We will be confined to the head table during the meal, but I want to find a quiet corner where I can speak to her without being interrupted. My plans are soon diverted as I am separated from her temporarily by a set of tedious, but necessary for political reasons, introductions. Her angry and raised voice draws me away from those and provides an opportunity for me to demonstrate why it is unwise to annoy me.

She has been backed up against the wall and is pinned in place by a young fool who has chosen to set his arms to either side of her, trapping her physically between them. When he tries to kiss her, I don’t bother introducing myself to him or asking who he is because that does not matter. I grab him by the back of the neck and physically lift him up in the air, dropping him on the floor once he can no longer reach her, and place myself in front of her as a physical barrier. While the idiot sits on the floor and splutters, I point my finger at him and let out an enraged snarl.

‘Remove him,’ I order, ‘before I do so myself.’

He is quickly hauled to his feet and marched out of the building.

I take her hand in mine and draw her to me. She is trembling a little, but settles as I walk her away from the gathered crowd and curious eyes, the translator ‘droid in tow behind us. No one attempts to stop me.

‘Did he harm you?’ I ask her in Basic.

She shakes her head in a negative.

‘He cornered me and tried to kiss me, but no physical damage was done,’ she replies in her own language.

‘Good,’ I tell her, relieved that I kept my reaction to the situation a minimal one instead of breaking his neck as I might have done.

‘Having to rely on a ‘droid, just to carry on a simple conversation, is a nuisance,’ she observes.

‘You should learn Basic,’ I suggest.

‘Maybe you should learn English,’ she counters.

We look at each other and she starts to laugh at the absurdity of it.

‘I can’t learn an entire language in a single night,’ she concedes.

‘Nor can I,’ I admit.

‘Then I think we are stuck with the ‘droid,’ she accepts the situation.

‘There are ways to communicate which don’t require spoken language,’ I tell her, hinting at a possibility for us to use. ‘Telepathy, for example.’

‘Or sign language,’ she adds. ‘We managed most of this week without a translator on hand.’

‘True,’ I accept her reminder.

One of the dignitaries approaches us, so I wave him off, relying on my reputation to keep him and everyone else at bay. I do not want anyone to intrude on us.

I ask her a wide range of questions, some trivial and others, not, filing away the answers she gives as I probe her background, education, and views on various issues. Much of what she knows of the Empire is from the usual media outlets, and is superficial, at best. Her own attempts to pry information from me are less successful, but I am careful to give her just enough to keep her talking to me, her curiosity actively seeking what she wants to know.

For the first time, in a long time, I find myself relaxing in a social setting. Both of us are enjoying ourselves and our conversation, until I notice that most of those in the room have gone to their assigned seats at the tables.

‘Dinner,’ I announce, adding the obvious, ‘I cannot eat, here, but you should.’

‘Where?’ she asks.

I don’t reply, and instead walk towards the head table, anticipating that she will follow me. The etiquette is similar to other worlds I have visited, and I amuse myself by trying to guess what the dishes are. My dinner guest is less comfortable with the meal than I am. Each time a new item is set in front of her, she inspects it carefully and watches what utensils the others use before copying them, herself. Between the various courses are toasts and speeches which I ignore, preferring to keep my attention on her. I know that she is doing her best to entertain me, as I had asked her to, but the novelty of the experience has worn thin by the time dessert is finished.

She sets down her empty cup of caf and looks around. The room is buzzing with conversation, now that the meal is done, but I see no reason to remain inside or to socialize.

There are other things I need to do.

‘You are a most beautiful and intriguing woman,’ I tell her. ‘I think you are the only person I have met on this planet who truly does not fear me, and I would like to speak with you in private.’

Her response to my flattery is an amused laugh, so I stand up and turn to face her. It’s time to go elsewhere for a while.

‘Walk with me,’ I ask of her, and order the ‘droid, ‘Stay here.’

I take her hand in a firm grip and pull her up onto her feet. There is a puzzled expression on her face, but she does not fight or resist me.

‘Alright,’ she agrees to go with me.

I keep her close by my side as I cross the floor, ignoring the eyes which are watching us. Let them look and stare. None of them are of any importance. Outside is a stone paved courtyard with a fountain in the center. I pull her along with me, past that, and onto the pathway out to the gardens. This will require privacy, so I keep going, until no one is close enough to see or hear, and our view of the building is blocked by foliage.

She asks me something, which I assume is a question about where we are going. I don’t answer. Instead, I stop, let go of her hand, and tightly embrace her. When she tries to step back, I hold her closer to me, setting her cheek against my chest with a hand at the back of her head. Once she realizes I have no intentions of harming her, I touch her mind with the Force, leaning hard on her defenses until she can no longer keep me out, and I am there with her. Her bright presence draws me in, seduces me, until I withdraw slightly from it.

Relax, I tell her, using telepathy to communicate. I am not going to hurt you, and this is faster than relying on the ‘droid.

Get out of my head, she tries to push me out.

Why should I when you so obviously want me to be in you? I tease her with what I suspect.

I don’t… she attempts to deny it.

Yes, you do, I force her to face the truth. You have wanted me for several days and there is no point in lying to me when we speak mind to mind.

So what if I do? she finally admits what she feels. It’s not a crime to admire or want someone.

Then perhaps we should do something about it, I suggest, since our desires are mutual.

She wants to have sex with me, and I want her in that way as well. I take her hand again and lead her further into the gardens, looking for a location which will suffice. The small, round open-sided and solidly roofed structure, hidden away in the dark should be adequate, and the benches it in are cushioned. I draw her inside of it, lift my hands to her hair and remove the combs she has used to hold it in place. It falls down her back in a cascade of curls. Next, I move my hands to her face and cup it with them. She makes no attempt to escape as I look at her closely. How beautiful she is, I think to myself when she stares into the lenses of my mask.

I want to make love to you, I tell her.

Will she give her consent or reject me? I can easily sense her desire for me, feel it pulsing throughout her being in time to the beating of her heart. A hand is raised and her finger traces the angles of my mask. I allow her do this and wait for her response.

Everything hinges on it.

Then make love to me, she agrees.

Her hands settle at my waist, slide to my hips and pull me ahead as she steps backwards. Once she reaches one of the benches, she sits on it, looks at my codpiece and then up to my mask. The open curiosity on her face and uncertainty for how to proceed, prompt me to remove it for her, laying it aside on the cushion next to her. When she goes to open my body suit, I gently move her hands aside. She does not need to see my erection just yet, and I want her in the position which will be easiest for both of us to use, given where we are.

Turn yourself over, I order.

There is no objection as she faces away from me and rests her weight evenly on her hands and knees. She is at the perfect height, I note, pleased with how this is progressing. I take the edge of her gown and slide it up above her waist, pull her underclothes out of my way, and move her knees more widely apart. Her body should be closer, so I draw her to me and allow my cloak to fall around us, blocking the view of anyone who might just happen by and see us.

Her skin is pale, undoubtedly soft, and there for me to touch and explore. I don’t hesitate and caress her legs with the intention of relaxing her. Slowly, gradually, my fingers move higher, until I find what I am seeking and begin lightly stroking her there. From her I hear several quiet, muffled gasps that tell me my efforts are having an effect.

Ready and eager? I tease her.

Yes, she replies. I want you.

When she pushes back against my hand, I smile and give her what she obviously needs from me, increasing the speed and pressure I am using, but I don’t let her orgasm despite how close she is to doing so. Instead, I swap my hand with something which is completely erect, hard, and wet, and begin rubbing that against her instead. Soon, she is soaked and ready for me. I position myself with my hand, mock thrust a few times and then set the tip just inside of her. From how small and tight she is and how large I am, I will definitely hurt her. This, her first time with me, must be done with great care and attention to what she is experiencing.

Her weight shifts as I begin my first thrust into her, and I slide out and sideways instead. I give a quiet growl at her in warning, reposition myself, and hold her firmly in place with my hand on her hip. All it will take is one quick, gentle thrust, but the signal for an urgent communication sounds from my comlink before I can do so. I grab it from my belt and open the channel.

‘What is it, Jir?’ I snap.

‘Everyone is ready and in place,’ he tells me.

‘I will be delayed for ten minutes, so stall them,’ I order.

I shut off the comlink and put it away. What I am already in the midst of is of far more importance to me than enduring some political speech praising a worthless treaty. Neither of us has moved and I am still ready, so I caress her lower back to settle her once more.

We must head back, I admit, but first…

I push my tip into her again and keep it in place with my fingers. She shivers slightly in nervous anticipation and I hear her deeply inhaled breath. Patience, I warn myself, waiting until she relaxes on the exhalation before I finally thrust myself inside her tight body, quickly breaking through the resistance I find. At her cry of pain I stop immediately, my suspicions, perhaps, confirmed.

A virgin, I identify her.

No, just rather small, she attempts to lie to me, unsuccessfully.

If you relax, your first time with me will be easier, I suggest.

Be gentle, please, she begs of me.

She is trembling again, this time from fear of being hurt. I stroke her legs with my hands, relaxing her as best I can with my touch. Once she is more settled, I move my hands to her hips and rest them there.

I will be, as much as I can, I reassure her.

If she really is a virgin and feels too much pain, there is a chance that after tonight she will be a reluctant, rather than willing, lover for me. Being gentle and slow with her is a simple thing to do, and what I will do since she has asked it of me.

I rock both of us forward and on the backwards motion of her body, push slightly deeper into her. She feels that change in where I am within her, and despite her best attempts to hide it, I hear her gasp in reaction. My size can’t be helped, but the next time we have sex it will be much easier for her. I rock us forward and back a second time, and repeat that until I can go no deeper inside of her, holding us together, motionless, and fully joined in that way for several minutes. She needs more encouragement from me, so I brush her cheek with my fingers, and wait for her to relax again.

I will be fast to finish, now, I let her know what I will do.

I allow my orgasm progress naturally, feel the spasms begin and let out a low moan in anticipation. Far too many years have passed since I have done this, felt this and the temptation is impossible to resist. I drive myself into her body, hard, fast, but only two times before I regain control and stop myself.

‘Yes,’ I hiss in pleasure as my climax peaks and I fill her with my semen.

She is slick inside when I give several short thrusts after that, checking to make sure there is no remaining physical resistance. Rather than pull out, I remain unmoving within her until my erection is finished, enjoying the feel of her body around mine. She leans forward, sets her head on her hands and sighs. It is unfortunate that she didn’t have her own orgasm, but the pain she felt and her fear of being hurt may have inhibited that. The next time, I promise her, I will be sure you experience one you won’t ever forget.

I glance down at my flashing comlink and silently curse at it. Being interrupted once is a nuisance; twice is infuriating. Carefully, slowly, I withdraw from her body, noting the blood smeared on her thighs and myself. She was definitely a virgin and will need some additional attention and emotional reassurances from me because of that. I turn away to give her what privacy I can while she cleans herself up.

‘Jir,’ I say to him through the comlink. ‘I do not care what you have to report to me. They can wait, they will have to wait, and they will wait. I will be in place to listen to the last of the speeches when I am ready, and not one second sooner than that. Meet me outside the main entrance.’

I don’t listen for a response and turn off the comlink.

She is still wiping my semen from her body when I retrieve and replace my codpiece, and her annoyance with me is almost palpable as her underclothes are pulled back into place.

Are you prepared to be a parent? she prods at me. Because I am not ready for that, even if you are.

I stare at her and realization dawns. Neither of us used any protection and she is worried about a pregnancy. This is a variable I had not considered. I lift her hand in mine and gently brush the back of it with my fingers. A child with her would open other possibilities, other futures for both of us. The prospect of her bearing my heir both tantalizes and concerns me, and would necessitate a significant, if welcome, change in my plans.

We will discuss that later, I put off having that conversation with her. Tonight, after the formalities are finished, we will go back to my assigned quarters and talk privately before I leave. Whatever happens, pregnant or not, I will always look after you.

I intend to hold you to that, she warns me.

I take both her hands in mine and pull her up off the bench. The material of her gown falls back to her feet, covering them and concealing what we had been up to. I draw her close, wrap an arm around her waist and set my hand on her hip. She makes no attempt to shake me off or step away from me, and the light I can feel emanating from her through the Force continues to pull on me.

In every way she is exactly what I need for my plans to succeed.

My final decision is an easy one.

I will take her from her home world tonight, when my shuttle leaves, and use her potential pregnancy to justify that.

I will welcome our child, if you are pregnant, I remind her because this is the truth and what she needs to hear from me, and I will guard and care for both of you. You will want for nothing and not have anything to worry about.

As we walk back to the pavilion, the Force ripples with forewarnings of danger, which only grow stronger as we draw closer to our destination. Something is about to happen and it involves the building we are headed towards. I stop our progress once we reach the fountain rather than continue inside. Those still within the pavilion can see us out here and I am sure that many have already decided they know what we have been up to.

Their opinions do not concern me.

I pull the woman next to me into my arms and hold her tight to my body. She wriggles and twists in an attempt to escape, but she is no match for my physical strength. Pushing on her mind, I find her just as willing to fight me there.

Get out of my head! she growls at me.

It’s necessary, I tell her. I need to protect you and it will be easier for me to shield both of us with the Force if we are linked. Now, stop fighting me and relax.

She does the exact opposite and continues to resist me.

Time is running out. The Force is screaming at me that I must be ready.

No time left, I warn her, and no other choice.

I force my way into her mind and put the required link into place. With her stubborn resistance to it, it won’t last for very long but I cannot wait for her to choose to co-operate.

An explosion erupts behind me. Others follow as the pavilion is torn apart, sending chunks of construction materials up into the air to fall back down around us. She clings to me in response and hides her face in my chest as I create a shielding dome with the Force and deflect all of it away from us. I turn to see what is still standing and how much damage has been done. No one could have survived that, I grimly admit. The roof has collapsed and the walls fallen in, burying all who were in it. It will take days to search through the rubble and properly investigate the mess.

She begins to shake in my arms as the shock of what has happened takes over. The woman who will eventually be my wife has just realized that if I hadn’t taken her out to the gardens for a quick, discrete, sexual encounter, we might have been caught in the destruction, too.

If only she knew the truth.

There is a brilliant ignition flash which is dulled by my helmet’s lenses. I spin her about, hoping I was fast enough, but her tightly shut eyes and tears running down her face suggest otherwise.

Damn.

This is an unexpected complication.

I tip her face up and move it from side to side, evaluating her injuries, before I brush away her tears. She was lucky, very lucky. It could have been much worse. As it is, it will take days for her to recover.

You looked, I state the obvious.

Bad timing, like stepping into one of your lunges, she reveals.

Keep them closed, I advise. You are in shock and have flash burns to your eyes. I must take you to my flagship for proper treatment.

What about… she starts a question which I stop by setting my finger across her lips.

This was an assassination attempt aimed at me, I tell her. I must contact my Admiral and arrange for the site to be secured and investigated. We will talk, later.

‘Admiral Piett,’ I open the com channel. ‘The pavilion has been bombed. I am uninjured, but will require a medical evac team for a local civilian. Send down enough troops to secure a square kilometer and make sure an investigative unit comes with them. Considering who has been killed in the attack, I expect that this will delay our departure for about a day.’

I feel her body begin to slide to the ground, so I quickly pin her against me, and sign off from my comlink. How small she is compared to me, I think to myself, as I pick her up in my arms and hold her close. My helmet tips back as I track the progress of the troop carriers and shuttles I have sent for. They will be here, soon. When I look down again, I can see that she has kept her eyes shut as instructed, and is fighting to stay awake. It would be best if she simply gave in and let her body’s natural defense system protect her from the shock she has just experienced.

‘My Lord,’ I hear Jir call to me.

‘What is it, Lieutenant?’ I ask.

He is staring at me and the woman in my arms.

‘The planetary authorities have arrived …’ he starts.

I cut him off. The Executor’s medevac unit is here.

‘Co-ordinate the investigation with them,’ I order as I begin walking over to the shuttle I need. ‘She has been injured and I must ensure she is cared for. I will speak to you once that is dealt with.’

The med team parts as I walk up the ramp and approach them, and no one says a word. I slowly ease her from my arms and into the treatment capsule they have brought.

‘She has been blinded and is in shock,’ I reveal to them.

I pull off my cloak and cover her with it. The Executor will be colder than she is accustomed to, and the additional warmth from the fabric will keep her comfortable. As I reach over to touch her cheek in farewell, she goes completely limp, unconscious at last.

***

I wait until her room is clear of medical personnel before I step into it and go to her. She is deeply sedated and does not stir when I stand next to her bed and touch her hand.

Whether her blindness is temporary or will be permanent has yet to be determined.

A part of me regrets that she has been harmed as a result of my actions, but in a way, it is an opportunity, a means to protect her from drawing too much attention to herself. If she is seen as helpless, no one will expect anything from her.

Rest, I tell her. Sleep and heal.

***

The next time I take a few minutes out of my daily schedule to check on her, she wakes when I touch her bandaged face.

You are awake, I observe.

And on your flagship? she asks.

Yes, I confirm her assumption.

When can I go home? she raises that question, the one I do not want to answer just yet.

I hesitate, deciding how to put her off, how to delay telling her what she does not want to hear - that she cannot go home and will be staying with me.

We will discuss that later, I give her a vague promise.

Later, she prods. How much later?

Later, I repeat as I move away from her, preferring to leave rather than become entangled in a drawn out conversation.

***

While she eats her noon meal, I interrogate the doctor, asking for each possible outcome and how best to proceed. Overall, she is physically fit and quite healthy, with the only issue being her sight. I glance over and watch her push her food around in the bowl on the tray. She cannot tolerate the liquid supplements the officers and crew usually consume, or the vile nutrient paste I had been forced to eat on her home world, but what she has been given instead of those is not much better.

‘Whatever sight she has retained needs to be kept stable,’ I order. ‘Once we know just how much damage was done, I will see to her care.’

I look over at her again and notice that she has given up on the grey coloured stew at last, so I take the tray away from her and shove it at the doctor.

‘This,’ I snap, waving a hand at the mess I am holding, ‘is not fit for anyone to eat.’

I resist dropping the tray on the floor in disgust, much as I am tempted to do it.

What they have given you to eat is not acceptable, I explain to her why I took the food away. I will see to it that you are brought a proper meal, once you have been released into my custody.

Am I being let out? she asks.

Momentarily, I reply. We need to check on how you are healing, first.

I touch her cheek before I begin unwinding the bandages covering her eyes. The lights have been dimmed to make it easier for her eyes to adjust, but she still keeps them tightly shut.

Open your eyes slowly, I order.

Her eyelids flutter uncertainly as she does what I have asked.

There is no recognition on her face, and her pupils are large, dark pools, with her irises completely dilated. She raises a hand and brings it up to her face, staring at it while she blinks repeatedly.

Her hands begin to shake as she starts to panic.

I can’t see, she tells me. I can’t see anything except blurry blobs.

‘She can’t make out anything in detail,’ I translate what she has told me, passing it on to the doctor. ‘Everything is a blur.’

I move from her side and wait patiently while he evaluates her condition.

‘Can you keep her vision stable?’ I ask once he is finished. ‘It would be unfortunate if what she has, now, was to change.’

He nods and leaves, quickly returning with a box of med-patches, which he hesitantly hands to me. We had already discussed this possibility in private and what I need him to do is at odds with how he wants to treat her.

‘My lord,’ he states. ‘I cannot condone this.’

‘It is necessary and unavoidable,’ I remind him, ‘and it will do no harm, in the long term.’

‘I do not agree,’ he maintains his previous position.

‘Your objections have been noted,’ I affirm, ‘but will not change my decision.’

He nods and walks stiffly from the room. I take a med-patch from the box and stuff the rest of them inside my surcoat. My attention needs to be on her and not him.

Lean forward, I tell her.

I lift the fabric of her tunic away from her back and stick the patch on her skin in the middle, between her shoulders.

Med-patch, I inform her, being careful to tell her the truth. It will need to be changed in a few days and you will need to always have one on you to keep what vision you have stable and in the state it is now. With time, it might improve, but there are no guarantees.

I wait while she thinks about that, giving her a few minutes to process and accept the news that she is effectively blind.

Would you like to go to your new quarters? I offer as a way to distract her.

She nods and tosses back the blankets on the bed before swinging herself around to sit facing me. Her feet are in warm socks and her clothes are standard medical issue that should suffice until I can arrange for her to change into something more suitable. I take her hand and set it in the crook of my arm. For now, I will be her eyes and her guide.

Her trepidation is obvious as I lead her through my flagship. Every time someone approaches too close, I feel her fingers dig into my arm and her hip brush against my thigh as she tries to stay near to me. All of this is new to her, I remind myself. She has never been on a military vessel before, nor has she had to cope with being unable to see clearly. I opt to take the most direct route from the medical section to my quarters.

My personal quarters are right next to yours, I tell her once we have arrived. I will key the door to mine to open for you, so that you can find me, if you need to, but it would be best if you do not go outside of your rooms on your own.

I lift her free hand and rest it on the ident panel beside the door to my quarters, repeating that action after I take her to the one which will open her suite next to mine.

Your rooms, I identify as I lead her inside and through to the bedroom. First is a sitting area with chairs in it. The kitchen and dining area are next, then the bedroom. You will find a ‘fresher off of that with water, not sonics, and there is a wardrobe you may select from in the storage compartments.

She sits on the bed, rather than explore her quarters, and looks up at me. I expect there will be a few questions that she will want answers to, but I will let her take the lead on that.

How long will I be staying here? she asks.

I decide to sit down to keep myself at her level physically, and join her on the bed.

We are on our way to Imperial Center so it will be a while, I answer without really giving her a time frame.

What am I supposed to do? she tries next.

I consider what to tell her without giving anything of my plans away. If I make it simple and straightforward then I will not have to lie to her.

Learn Basic and about the Empire, I suggest. Keep me company, and amuse me.

Her hands stretch towards me and rest on my chest armour once she finds me. I take one of them and move it to her stomach, holding it there, with my fingers laced in hers.

Am I pregnant? she asks the question my action has prompted.

I don’t let my disappointment show despite my hopes that it might be true.

No, I reveal, but I will be responsible for your care regardless of that.

There is a confused mix of emotions from her, relief combined with some regret, which surprises me. I watch her close her eyes and listen to her sigh. She wants a child, I quickly realize, and my child, at that. This is something I need to think seriously about, but for now, she should sleep.

You are tired. I should go and let you rest, I decide.

I release her hand from mine and lift the other away from my chest.

Stay, please, she begs of me.

Something in how she says that connects deeply with me. For much of the past two days she has been on her own, with no one she can speak to. She is lonely and isolated by the language barrier in a similar way to how my position and who I am does the same to me.

Let me make sure that no one will interrupt us, I tell her.

I take my comlink from my belt and call Jir.

‘See to it that no one bothers me for the next three hours,’ I order my aide. ‘I will be most displeased if anyone comms or tries to find me in person.’

I turn off the comlink and throw it aside on the floor. Even if Jir is foolish enough to ignore my explicit command and uses it, no signal will make it through.

Done, I confirm. Now, what do you want to know?

Her curiosity will determine the direction of our conversation.

Everything, she replies.

About? I ask.

You, she chooses the one topic I hoped to avoid.

For a few minutes, I say nothing while I debate what to tell her. There are aspects of my past that she must never know about, and my current position means I cannot reveal anything which might lead to future problems. The truth. I will give her enough of the truth to discourage her from prying any further.

I am the Emperor’s second and Supreme Commander of the military, I answer her at last. Usually I am sent to deal with problems that no one else can handle, and your home world was seen as a particularly belligerent case. Hopefully, I will not be needed there, again. When I am not with the fleet I am at Imperial Center or in a castle on one of my private worlds. You do not need to know any more than that about what my work entails.

Her eyes fall to her hands that are resting in her lap.

I’m sorry, she immediately apologizes.

Don’t be, I tell her. You do not yet know what you can and cannot ask.

I lift her chin with my fingers and see her blink blindly at me as she tries to force her eyes to work properly. She will learn and I will be gentle in how I rebuke her, if she pushes into forbidden territory. When I remove my hand, she seizes it, holds it between both of hers, and refuses to let go.

Stay, she insists. I want you.

I stare at her, surprised at her words and what I can sense.

You still want me? I ask.

Yes, she admits. I still want you to make love to me.

Her desire for me is as strong as it was in the garden on her home world. This is no act on her part, but for now, I will let her set the pace instead of moving faster than she is ready for.

Good, I decide, because I still want to make love to you, so come here.

She doesn’t resist when I help her onto my lap, open her tunic, and ease it off of her. Beneath it, she is trim and firmly muscled, her body reflecting her level of fitness. I trace a slow path with my fingers from her face to her chest, caressing her small breasts until I feel her begin to relax. She is soft, so very soft to touch, and I wish I could rip my mask off and kiss her. When I finally move my hands lower, I tug on her trousers, choosing to tear them open with the Force and pull them off of her instead of moving and changing our positions. Her laughter at my actions encourages me to keep going, this time sliding my fingers between her legs as she opens them invitingly to me. Today, she is just as responsive as she was before, and her gasps at my exploratory touches quickly fill the room. I stroke her until she is at the brink then slip a single finger inside and feel her muscles begin to pulse around it. The cries of pleasure from her are louder now, her face pressed against my chest as her hips push on my hand in time to her orgasm. I keep my finger within her until she is finished, and only then do I remove it. As she recovers, my arms hold her close to me, and I brush her hair away from her face.

You certainly enjoyed that, I state the obvious.

Could you do that to me again, please? she requests of me.

She wants more from me and I have no reason to refuse her.

On your back and in the middle of the bed, I tell her, playfully slapping her rear to encourage her to move more quickly.

I watch her fuss with the pillows and blankets. While she makes herself comfortable, I drop my cloak on the floor, pull off my gauntlets and surcoat, and remove my codpiece and belt. In here, I cannot easily take off much more of my armour, so that will have to be enough. My attention returns to the bed. She has her eyes closed, so I go to join her which makes her open them again.

Today, I want to do this in a more conventional manner. I lift her knees and move them apart, kneeling between them as I ready myself. Once I am in position, I lean forward on one hand, keeping my weight off of her as I guide myself closer and then thrust quickly, shallowly, into her. She is still a bit tight, I observe, but there is no cry of pain or protests at what I have done. I set my hands to either side of her chest and slowly, gently, make love to her, giving her the chance to become used to me before I increase the speed and depth of my thrusts. She wraps her arms around me in response, digs her fingers into my back, and what little control I had over myself begins to disappear when she climaxes a second time. It has been far too many years since I have done this with someone who truly cares for me.

I can’t hold back any longer, I warn her.

I drive myself into her and roll my hips against hers, making no attempt to silence the moans that are sounding through my vocoder or the gasps that break through my programmed breathing cycle. My body shivers as I orgasm at last, and I allow myself to enjoy every second of it.

Doing this with her feels incredible and I don’t want it to end.

For a minute, I continue to thrust into her, hoping to prolong the experience, but we are both spent, and I finally stop, completely finished at last. I trace the smile on her face with my finger and laugh when she playfully kisses it. After I withdraw from her body and sit up, she rolls onto her side and sighs contentedly. Both of us are more than satisfied with the other.

Shall we do that again, tomorrow? I suggest, hoping she is willing to be my lover.

Tomorrow and every day after that, she readily agrees.

I stand up and grab my cloak from the floor. She is becoming chilled, so I throw it over top of her as a blanket. That she likes the fabric and the warmth from it is obvious from how she rubs it against her face and sighs.

Little hedonist, I name her.

If I had the time, I would make love to her again, but I do not have that luxury at the moment. I retrieve my codpiece, put it on, then drop my surcoat over my shoulders before securing it in place with my belt and pulling on my gloves. She can keep the cloak, I decide, since she is happily curled up in it. There are others I can use in my quarters.
 
I sit down beside her on the bed and watch her face, measuring the emotions I can sense from her. Despite everything that has happened to her, she is content, happy, and … thoroughly in love with me. This is both a complication and an asset. I take her hand in mine as I think about her, what we just did, and what I, myself, am beginning to feel. The words of an ancient Sith poem run through my mind, the words of Darth Malgus to his beloved, Eleena Daru.

What did you just say? she asks me, breaking through the meditation I had slipped into.

I curse my absent mindedness.

I must have spoken some of it aloud.

My lover has come, my heart rejoices, my arms are opened to embrace her. O light one, you belong to me forever, as my beloved mistress has come to me! I translate a few lines of it for her.

That’s beautiful, she tells me.

It is time to take the next step, reveal her new status to her, and confirm our relationship.

As are you, my mistress, I reply.

I gently squeeze her hand, let it go, and brush her cheek with my fingers. This time, I do not need to pretend. Just as her emotions for me have developed naturally, so have mine for her. Rather than suppress the attraction and protectiveness I feel for her, I will allow those to grow, and adjust what I will do accordingly. It is too early, however, to let her know how much I care for her. In a few days, perhaps, I will say something.

Rest, now, I firmly tell her. I will return to you later.

I look back at her before I open the door and leave.

In my damaged and torn heart, I find myself hoping that our relationship has a different ending than that of Eleena and Malgus.

***

I step off the holonet terminal and shut my eyes for a few seconds, steeling myself for what I must do next. In less than two weeks, thanks to his spies, Palpatine has learned of her existence and has given me no other choice. I need to move our relationship ahead quickly, now, to protect her from him, and far sooner than I had anticipated.

I comm Jir and give him his orders. This must be done in public and in such a way that it will boost the morale of my troops and flagship’s crew. They will attend our wedding, and I will give them leave for the rest of the day as an incentive and a reward. The two female Lieutenants who are on my staff can help her with the preparations, but I won’t tell her what is about to happen. If she knows, she might refuse, and at this point, that is something I cannot afford. My aides are waiting for me at the door to her quarters and follow me in when I enter.

My mistress is curled up in one of the chairs in her sitting room and looks expectantly up at me. Confusion crosses her face once she realizes that I am not alone.

You will co-operate with my aides, I tell her.

I watch the two women I brought with me lead her into the bedroom and close the door to it behind them. They will appropriately dress her and make sure she is presentable. While I wait, I consider how to ensure she co-operates with me. She still has not learned Basic, so will not understand much, if any, of what I will require her to say. I will give her an incentive she will not be able to resist, bribing her with an offer she cannot refuse. My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the bedroom door opening.

Her eyes are huge pools, their dilated darkness accented by the light touches of makeup that have been applied, and her long hair has been twisted into a formal style on top of her head. The gown is floor length and modest, yet emphasizes every graceful curve of her body. She glows with how she feels for me, a bright beacon in the Force, as opposed to my darkness. My hands twitch at the temptation to reach over and draw her to me, but I restrain myself.

You are very beautiful, I flatter her with the truth.

I lift up her hand, set it on my arm, and lead her out of her rooms and down to the main hangar. Once in that, she briefly halts, tugging on my arm in an effort to make me stop, before she gives in to my pulling on her hand and continues walking at my side. The unfamiliarity with the setting and rows of men arranged in ranks are unsettling to her, and I understand why she is hesitant to go with me. I wait until we are in position in front of everyone, then stop and turn to face her. She looks up at me while I stare down at her.

You will say what I tell you to, when I tell you to say it, I firmly state.

No, I won’t, she stubbornly refuses, as I predicted she would. I want to know what is going on.

I lift her chin with my hand and gently caress her cheek. Her stubborn determination is one of the things about her that I find attractive, but at times it is definitely a nuisance.

This is not the time for you to have an argument with me, I warn her. Just do as I have asked, and I will explain to you why, later.

And if I refuse? she chooses to be difficult.

It will make no difference in the outcome, merely postpone the inevitable, I reveal. If this does not happen now, it will be tomorrow or the next day. Co-operate today and it will be simpler and easier on you, and I will reward you with whatever you ask of me.

My master has backed me into a corner, as far as she is concerned, with only two ways out - wed her or kill her. If she will not co-operate with me, now, I will simply register our marriage and have Piett conduct the necessary ritual in private, later, in a location where she can be as stubborn as she wants and make as many protests as she wants without affecting the outcome.

Hopefully, she will choose to take the opening I have freely offered to her.

Alright, she agrees, dropping her resistance, to my surprise, but you have made a promise and I will make sure that the reward is worth it.

Ask of me what you want and it will be yours, I repeat and reinforce my promise to her.

She does exactly as I need her to, repeats the words in Basic which give her consent and agrees to be my wife just as I do the same in return as her husband. As the formal ceremony comes to a close, I whisper what she had once said to me back to her, only in Basic this time. When I am finished, I take her hands in both of mine and hold them while my men applaud and the hangar echoes with their approval. We are soon surrounded, so I nod to my aides and allow them to take her from me. They will prepare her for what will follow while I accept the good wishes of my officers and crew.  My eyes meet hers when she stops and looks back at me, but I wave the Lieutenants on rather than call all of them back.

***

I spend the next few hours obeying my master’s orders, kneeling on the Holonet terminal, preparing to face the consequences and performing penance for what I have done today. Palpatine learned immediately of my marriage and will leave me here on my knees until he chooses to speak to me, the length of time I am made to wait being a measure of just how displeased he is.

‘I told you to deal with her, Vader, not to marry her,’ he snaps at me the instant his hologram appears.

I stay where I am, down on one knee, and don’t look up.

‘Your instructions were…,’ I pause, gauge just how hard to push back at him then finish, ‘vague and unclear.’

My helmet remains tipped down at the floor, but I risk raising my eyes to glance up at him. A finger is pointing directly at me and his anger is palpable through the Force, even at this distance.

‘Don’t play games with me, my apprentice,’ he warns. ‘You cannot hide from me the desire you feel for her.’

I stay silent rather than provoke him further.

‘You have burdened yourself with a completely useless and unnecessary wife,’ he snaps at me. ‘See to it that you do not give me a reason to separate you and do not defy me again. You will return to Imperial Center immediately.’

‘As you wish, my master,’ I concede.

His image vanishes and I rise to my feet, stretching briefly to ease my cramped muscles. That went about as well as I expected it to, but it could have been far worse. He has allowed me to keep her at my side, instead of forcing us apart or demanding that I kill her. For the next few months, I will be the ideal apprentice and errand runner, and do nothing to raise his suspicions. Although we will be at Imperial Center in a few days, there is no reason to take my wife anywhere near the Emperor’s court and it would be safer for her to be kept away from the intrigues and politics that are constantly brewing in it. There is also no point in parading her in front of my master and antagonizing him into action.

I need to check on my wife, so I go to our bedroom, open the door and quietly approach my bed. She is sleeping, dreaming, her eyes lightly fluttering as I sit down beside her. How beautiful she is, I observe, her face peaceful and long hair spread around her head. I take the plain, gold ring I had made for this purpose from a pocket on the back of my belt, and slip it onto her finger, marking her as mine as they do on her home world. Bending over her, I caress her cheek.

Sleep, my wife, I suggest.

Then, I leave her side and return to the Holonet terminal. I must contact the major domo of my castle on Coruscant and make arrangements for my arrival with my new wife.

I have just finished that call when I hear the bedroom door open behind me. Turning my head, I see her standing there, looking in my direction. With a gesture, I shut off the terminal. It is very late and we both have had a long day.

You should be in bed resting, wife, I tell her after I have walked closer to her.

On our wedding night, you should be in bed with me, husband, she reminds me.

She knows what her rights are as my wife. If she insists on having sex with me, tonight, I must oblige her.

I want my reward, my wife holds me to my earlier promise. I want to bear your child.

I breathe in slowly, deliberately, overriding my regulated breathing pattern as I react to her demand. She has asked for my child, which is, perhaps, the most dangerous thing I can give to her. If my master was angry at my marriage, siring another heir on her will make him livid, given that he is determined to capture and corrupt my son. For a moment, I measure the risks against the potential reward then make my choice.

Very well, I defer to her wish. I did not expect you to consent to this, but I will do as you ask and give you a child, since we both want one.

When? she prods at me for a time.

Now, I decide, seeing no point in delaying this. It may take several tries, once we know what days are best for you, but there is no reason to not to start tonight, on our wedding night.

She steps away from me, openly shocked at how fast I want her to become pregnant. I extend my hand out to her, offering it and myself to her. Her eyes fix on my hand and I wonder what she sees. Slowly, hesitantly, she takes it. I pull her in close to my body and wrap her in my arms, using my willingness to hold her as a way to show her how I feel. There is a contented sigh after she rests her cheek on my chest armour and realizes that she is safe and secure where she is. My wife has accepted me as her husband, so I lift her up in my arms and carry her into our bedroom.

There are limitations because of my life support systems, I tell her, honestly, as I lower her onto my bed - our bed, now.

When she attempts to sit up, I keep her in place with my hand and sit beside her. I cannot kiss her so I brush two fingers across her lips instead and watch her tentative smile appear. She is not sure what I intend to do. Her nightgown is held closed with a tie at her throat, so I tug on the strings, pull it open and push the fabric out of my way. Preparation is important but I can only do so much with my mask on. Gently, slowly, I caress her breasts then slide a hand between her knees only to have her refuse to give me the access I desire.

Her new status as my wife has made her nervous.

Relax, I suggest as I ease her legs apart. Enjoy my touch, and it will be easier…

I fall silent as I slide a finger inside of her and quickly remove it. The usual preliminaries have not been very effective. She is nowhere close to being ready for me. While I caress her legs, I think about what I should do. In here, I can remove my armour almost completely and this time, our first as husband and wife, will be better if I am unencumbered.

I push up off of the bed and retreat to the ‘fresher. After locking the door, I begin the long, tedious process of systematically stripping myself to the skin. At the end of it, my armour has been put away, I have had a quick shower, and I am wrapped in a simple black robe. There is no mirror to check my appearance in, not that it matters with her poor vision. The vanity I was guilty of, years ago, is pointless, now, although if I had the opportunity I would gladly swap my prosthetics for more realistic, natural looking ones. I reach over, open the door, and step back into the bedroom. My wife stares at me, at the man I am without my armour.

‘Lord Vader?’ she calls to me.

‘Anakin,’ I correct her.

In here, I want her to feel completely comfortable with me, so I will allow her to use my private, personal name rather than my titles. I return to her side, let my robe fall to the floor, and resume my spot on the bed.

In here, between us alone, call me Anakin, I remind her.

She raises a hand to my face and touches me. I stay motionless, letting her explore with her fingers the features she cannot see. My eyes crinkle and lips curve in a genuine smile as I realize that she does not care what I look like. Concern appears on her face when she traces my scars, my old injuries which no longer bother me, but obviously worry her. I kiss her hand before she can remove it from my mouth.

I have blue eyes, and have - well, had, dark blonde hair, I reveal.

I lean over and kiss her forehead before moving my lips to hers. She opens her mouth to me and I slide my tongue inside, encouraging her to do the same to me. When she does, I pull back and laugh at her playfulness. The nightgown will be in our way, so I pull it off of her and drop it on top of my robe. My mouth contacts her cheek as I create a trail of kisses down to her breasts. Her skin is soft and she tastes good. I swirl my tongue around her breast, set my mouth around the nipple and nurse at it until she begins to softly moan. My fingers are busy elsewhere, exploring every part of her body within my reach, finally settling between her legs and in her hair. I brush both of those places with my fingertips and leave my mouth where it is.

She grabs my hand, pulls it away from her head and arches up off the bed. I shift my mouth to hers and kiss her, but don’t pause in what I am doing with my other hand. Her cries of pleasure break our kiss as my fingers that have been stroking her finally trigger an orgasm. At that, I don’t hesitate. I kneel between her legs, pull her knees up, and quickly thrust into her, drawing her fully onto me with my hands on her hips.

‘Ow!’ she lets out a loud protest.

Something is wrong. I instantly stop what I am doing.

You are too big for me tonight and it hurts, she scolds me for my haste.

I restrain myself after that, slowing what I do and keeping it gentle and shallow until I feel her body become wet in response to my movements. At that, I thrust hard, deep a few times and moan her name aloud as my orgasm overwhelms me. When I try to pull out, she stops me, hooking her feet behind me and wrapping her arms around my back to hold me against her body.
 
If you want to sire a child on me, you need to wait until you are completely done, she suggests, and stay there for a while to keep your semen inside of me, too.

Wise words, I decide. I shift my weight onto my hands and kiss her. She playfully kisses me back and we exchange more of those until I feel myself sliding out of her body, my erection ended at last. Pushing myself up and away from her, I wait for her to roll onto her side, and hold her to my chest, my right arm over her waist and left under her head. I expect that this will be how we spend our nights together from now on - an enjoyable session of sex followed by cuddling and sleep.

I kiss her shoulder as I start to relax.

What did you say to me in the hangar, at the end of our wedding ceremony? she suddenly asks me.

I laugh at her question, but with her sense of curiosity, I should have expected it.

‘And I love you, too,’ I answer in her language instead of Basic, confessing my feelings to her for a second time, and for the first time in a way she will understand.

I do not know if she remembers saying that to me on her home world or not. My wife turns her head and peers at me. At this close distance I think she can see my smile.

‘And I love you, too, Anakin,’ she repeats my words back to me in Basic, matching my declaration with her own.

***

I call up another report on rebel activity and stare at the screen. Ever since I drove them off of Hoth, they have been involved in seemingly random hit and run attacks on small facilities and raids on supply depots. There has to be a pattern in those, but I have not worked it out yet.

My wife is on the divan, curled up and comfortable. She prefers to stay near me and I have allowed her to do so, as long as I am not in a meeting and she is quiet. Today, however, I can sense her nervousness and I suspect I know the source for it: her normal cycle has suddenly changed and she is afraid of what that must mean.

‘Anakin,’ she says my name in as soft a voice as she can.  

She has finally worked up the courage to speak to me. I turn off the data terminal and go to her, sitting beside her so she can see me a little better. Her fear at disappointing me again, if she is wrong, is evident in her careful, indrawn breath.

‘Anakin, I’m pregnant,’ she gives me the news.

This is something I can easily confirm. I caress her stomach then rest my hand on it while I send a gentle probe with the Force inside her. Within her is a faint light, a tiny reflection of what she is combined with me. A smile tugs at my lips with my discovery.

‘Yes, you definitely are,’ I tell her.

Her fingers entwine with my own and her smile is a genuine one.

‘Happy?’ I ask and note her nod of confirmation. ‘Good. I am very pleased with you. You will give me a strong heir.’

Our daughter will be quite formidable once she is older and fully trained. It is most fortunate that our first attempt at reproduction has proven to be so successful.

‘Is it a boy?’ she prods me for more.

‘No, a girl,’ I reveal. ‘Hopefully, the next one will be a boy. I would like one of each.’

I draw her hair back from her face and hook it behind her ear. Her response is to move closer, so I pull her onto my lap and let her wrap her arms around me. There is nothing pressing for me to see to, so I will hold her as long as she wishes. Once word of her pregnancy reaches my master’s ears, there will be very few quiet moments like this one.

‘I can indulge you, for a little while,’ I admit.

‘A reward for me?’ she hints.

‘A reward for you,’ I allow.

***

The summons to bring her before the Emperor arrives at about the time I expected it to, but still sooner than I would have liked.

As the turbolift rises, I center and ground myself in the Force. I know what is to come, but my wife does not. My master was furious when he spoke to me over the comm and I doubt that his anger has abated in the few hours which have passed since then. I look down at her. She is confused and afraid, and I cannot do anything to ease her anxiety.

The doors open. I lead her out, guiding her carefully across the darkened room and up the stairs. We both kneel once we reach the top. Palpatine is looking out over Coruscant, the back of his throne turned to us, while he makes us wait.

‘I am most disappointed with you, my apprentice,’ he finally says something to me.

His throne swivels about to face us and he rises from that, approaching me, but stopping in front of her. He grabs her chin and tips her face up so that he can look at it. I feel his Force sense probing at her, evaluating her, and hope that what I have done to protect her has been enough.

‘Blind, Forceless, unsophisticated, from an Outer Rim world and family with no wealth or influence, and pregnant with a daughter, not a son. The only feature to recommend her is a pretty face,’ my master scathingly gives his opinion, ‘A pathetic choice for your wife.’

I say nothing in response. Denials and protests will only provoke him more.

His fingers tighten on her face before he throws her aside, and I see her fall sideways, to the floor. I force myself to remain silent and unmoving, despite the urge to throttle him. The walking stick in his hand pokes at her, stopping once he reaches the point between her legs.

‘Tell me, Lord Vader, is she at least a decent lover?’ he asks me in an attempt to goad a response from me. ‘Or have you settled for mediocrity there as well?’

Restrain yourself, I remind myself.

The cane moves to her stomach, and my wife finally reacts. She shoves at that twisted stick with her hand, trying to protect our child.

My predictions for how she might behave have proven to be true.

‘She is harmless and weak, and no threat to anyone,’ Palpatine delivers his verdict. ‘Since you are obviously fond of her, I will let her live and allow you to keep her as your wife.’ He pauses then orders, ‘but you will rid her of the child, immediately. We will soon have Skywalker, so it is superfluous and no longer needed.’ Another pause, ‘and you will not breed another one on her.’

He has spared her life at the cost of my daughter’s, as I also expected and had hoped.

‘As you wish, my master,’ I concede.

Anakin? my wife’s desperate thought reaches me.

I rise to my feet and move to her side. This must be done both gently and brutally, and there is little I can do to help her. I kneel next to her and roll her over onto her back, holding her securely in place with a hand on her shoulder. The other one, I set over her stomach.

Please, don’t do this to me, she begins to beg. Please, Anakin, please. Think of our unborn daughter. Think of me.

I am thinking of her and you as well, I tell her. What I must do will hurt you, but it is necessary to save your life and will not last for very long. I need you to remember that.

She does her best to escape from my grasp, but I keep her still and reach inside of her to do what I must.

Her first scream of pain tears through me.

It’s necessary, I remind myself, and it won’t last for long.

I unhook my lightsaber and set her hand around it, using her skirts to conceal both of them. What happens next will be up to her.

Remember, I emphatically project that word deep into her mind. Remember.

‘It will not take long for her to miscarry at this stage of her pregnancy,’ I tell my master. ‘An hour or two, perhaps.’

I watch my wife curl up in a ball on the floor and see her tears as she realizes what I have said.

‘It hurts, it hurts, it hurts,’ she cries out to me. ‘Please, make it stop hurting.’

‘Leave her,’ Palpatine commands. ‘We have matters to discuss. You can take her to my private medical facilities to be seen to once we are done.’

I gently squeeze her shoulder, giving her what little support I can under the circumstances. Following his orders, I join my master, our backs to her, as we discuss the trap he is preparing for the rebels at Endor. His attention is completely on me, not at all on her, as he considers her completely unworthy of his notice, but I can hear her slowly dragging herself across the floor.

It is no surprise to me when my lightsaber ignites and the man at my side collapses to the floor, his body cut in two. I whip around and block her next attack, using my dead master’s weapon to defend myself, before I reach out with the Force and shut off the one in her hands.

‘Enough, wife,’ I tell her. ‘He’s dead and you can rest, now.’

My lightsaber falls from her hands as she faints, dropping at my feet. I quickly kneel and roll her over onto her back, stop the cramps I had induced, retrieve my weapon, and pick her up.

‘My brave little one,’ I quietly say to her. ‘What a magnificent Empress you will be for me.’

Even in her unconscious state she hears me; she nestles against my chest and sighs. I carry her out of the throne room and see to it that she is cared for.

My master foolishly forgot one very important fact: the most dangerous of all creatures is a mother whose child has been threatened or harmed.

***

I tuck her in beside me and wait for the sedative to wear off. Today was stressful for both of us and I am not entirely sure how she will react to what I must tell her.

When she does wake, I can sense her anger and resentment at what I did to her. She fights to escape from me, but I am far stronger and hold her down against the pillows and bed.

‘I hate you,’ she growls at me.

Her reaction is completely understandable.

‘What I did to you was necessary,’ I remind her.

‘Killing our unborn child was not ‘necessary’,’ she fires back.

My wife has assumed the worst. I take her hand and move it downwards, stopping over the swell of her midsection, to reassure her that all is well with our daughter.

‘She’s fine,’ I tell her. ‘I gave you a really bad case of stomach cramps, instead. You need to remember what I told you.’

I told her the truth in the throne room when I said the pain would not last. Now, I must reveal another truth to her and she will not be at all pleased about it.

‘Lights, low, slow implementation,’ I state, activating the controls.

As the room becomes brighter, she blinks repeatedly at me. What were once dark, unfocussed pools, are now bright green eyes staring up at me. There is silence for several minutes and I begin to wonder what she must think of my appearance now that she can see what I really look like.

‘Anakin?’ she asks in a hesitant voice.

‘Easy, now,’ I do my best to ease her fear. ‘It will take you a while to readjust to seeing properly again.’

Her fingers trace my cheekbones and scars, travel across my face and head, and I patiently allow her to take the time to accustom herself to her new perspective on my features.

‘How?’ she raises that question.

I don’t avoid answering it and simply point to the med-patch I removed from her earlier today. One of her hands checks her back to confirm that it is gone.

‘You drugged me?’ she snaps at me, her voice becoming louder and more heated as she realizes what I had done to her. ‘You drugged me and let me think I would be permanently blind? You bastard!’

The fist which strikes my shoulder does not result in any significant damage, but I will not allow her to do that to me a second time. I grab her wrist and hold it still.

‘I will grant you that first one, since I have earned it, but you will never strike me again,’ I warn her.

I let go of her hand.

‘I had to do it to keep you safe,’ I admit. ‘My master would only leave you alone and let you live if he thought you were of no consequence and harmless.’

‘How much of the last year has been an elaborate lie?’ the accusations come from her in a torrent. ‘Did you arrange for that building to be destroyed on my home world as well as for me to be blinded? Have I only been a convenient body for you to use for your pleasure and to breed an heir on, and a weapon for you to unleash when you needed it?’

I don’t answer her immediately, so she makes a disgusted noise and turns her back on me.

I suppose I deserve that reaction and her anger, too, since I have carefully manipulated her for months. She was always intended to be my hidden weapon, designed to perform one specific task, but I never expected to fall in love with her.

I reach across the bed and roll her over to face me, despite her attempts to resist.

‘I have never once lied to you,’ I reveal that truth to her. ‘Avoided telling you everything, yes, but that was always to protect you, not to harm you.’ And this is true, too, I continue, setting my lips on hers and kissing her deeply and passionately, my love for you is, and always has been, completely real.

‘And I love you, too,’ she whispers to me when I give her a chance to breathe.

‘And I love you, too,’ I tell her.

Then, I kiss her again.

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