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Title: Slouching Towards Ecstasy
Author: Prophecy Girl (prophgirl@gmail.com)
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Darth Vader, Original Female
Category: Seduction, angst, challenge fic

Disclaimer: All characters and settings within the Star Wars Universe are the sole property and possession of George Lucas.Ownership of said characters herewith is neither stated nor implied by author. No copyright infringement is intended.

Summary: My take on the Vader challenge.

Alaria glanced furtively at the guard posted by the door. He was armed only with a standard-issue military blaster, chances were good she could take him out quietly. But was it worth putting herself on the Empire's radar to escape?

When she saw Dax again she would kill him. Signed her up for a personal ad? The Huttspawn had gone too far this time.

"You're boring, Al. You need a life. You need a man." The holocom had read and she could picture his noxious laughter as he'd composed the message.

Tired of her constantly beating him to the good catches, and unable to match her skills physically, he had resorted to mind games and pranks.

Bounty hunters didn't need "lives", and Mandalorians didn't breed outside their kind. But of course, Dax knew that. She had snorted her disgust at the prank and deleted the entire message, not bothering to read the attached instructions. She had dealt with this poodoo of a prank as she did all his others - she had ignored it.

But the transport had arrived at her door this morning and she had been escorted to the ship by over a dozen stormtroopers in no uncertain terms. The holoprint signature Dax had forged on her behalf for the application had, apparently, waived the few personal rights afforded by the Empire. They hadn't let her bring any of her weapons with her, had even known to remove the shock stick from her boot, but when they told her to leave her helmet behind she'd threatened to shatter their faces.

The whoosh of the door caused her to withdraw from her plotting of Dax's painful, slow death. She looked up at the Lieutenant who entered and laughed harshly. He was a spindly waif of a man who looked half-scared out of his wits.

"You?" she snorted. "I really will dismember him for this."

He ignored her. "Remove the helmet."

It was her turn to ignore. "Perhaps I'll tear his arms off and beat him with them…"

"You'll take it off eventually," the man said. "For now, you are suitable. Follow me."

"Suitable?" She stood, considering. "That how you treat all your dates?"

"Me?" The man laughed nervously and fingered his blaster. "You're not for me." He turned and walked down the hall.

Alaria paused again, then followed. What in the hell had that slug-eating slime gotten her into?

The hall gave way to yet another room, this one more comfortable and lavishly decorated. A burgundy divan rested against one wall. Against the other was an expansive bed, dressed in sheets of black satin. On the wall to the left of the door was a control panel with a numeric lock system on it. Difficult to slice into, but not impossible. She turned to ask the Lieutenant more questions, but he was already gone, the door shutting tightly behind him.

Perhaps this was all some elaborate trap. She had no idea how Dax had managed to enlist the help of Imperial guards, but the entire set-up smelled like a trap. Get her locked in some room with no weapons and nothing sharp to throw at him, that was just his style.

She positioned herself against the wall to the right of the door. When that stupid, good-for-nothing Rodian came through it she'd kick his face in, grab his blaster, and end this pathetic rivalry for good.

Moments later the door hissed open. She tensed her muscles in preparation for a short, but satisfying fight. Then she heard the rasp of steady, mechanical breathing and froze.

Darth Vader stepped into the room and turned to face her.

There was a pause.

"Interesting," they intoned in unison.

He stepped further into the room. "A Mandalorian bounty hunter with a desire to join my harem. I find this… unexpected."

Her eyes widened then narrowed behind the reflective surface of her helmet.

"Your what?"

Forget killing Dax. She would cut his penis off and make him eat it instead.

Vader laughed.

"Not your idea, then. Normally I allow applicants to leave if they change their minds once they see me." He paused, surveying her lithe body, unabashedly displayed beneath the soft leather bodysuit she wore. "But I think I'll have you stay. Your anger pleases me."

So he could read minds, after all. This would not help her.

"I have other talents as well, Alaria. Talents you will enjoy, I think."

She glowered at him. She hoped he could sense her expression the same way he sensed her thoughts.

"You think so?" she spat.

He strode to the wall and entered a code into the panel. The door locked shut and she heard the sharp hiss of air as chemicals flooded the chamber. She began to cough and dropped to her knees.

"Your concept of enjoyment seems to differ from mine, buddy."

Suddenly she was on her feet again, then sailing across the room into the wall. She slammed against it and fell to the floor, stunned. With the reflexes of a seasoned fighter she braced herself with her hands and lashed out with her feet, striking only air. She raised her head, breathing heavily. He hadn't moved.

"What the hell are you?" she asked.

"I am Lord Vader," he told her calmly. "And that is what you will call me. I do not tolerate insolence."

She pulled herself to her feet, still gasping for air within the changing environment of the room.

"But how did you do that? And how can I learn it?"

He approached her slowly. Her hair had come unclasped inside her helmet and now he curled his fingers around the black locks that draped over her shoulder.

"It's in my power. The Force cannot be controlled by a weak mind."

The Force. She'd heard of it, of course. Some bizarre religion based on balance and pacifism. Mandalorians regarded it as a joke.

"The Force is a Jedi myth. And I kill Jedi."

He laughed again. "So do I."

He tapped a finger lightly against her helmet.

"Remove it," he commanded.

"After you," she responded, then added sarcastically, "Lord Vader."

"I will soon grow tired of this game, Alaria. Remove your helmet, or I will do it for you."

She thought of her trip into the wall.

She complied.

He took her chin in his hand and turned her head from side to side, studying her. Her face was angular and narrow, the irises of her eyes black voids that matched her hair. A jagged scar ran down the right side of her face from above her brow, down past the curve of her cheekbone. She was young - perhaps 20 or 22, and had been eerily beautiful once, but she had lived hard and her expression showed a woman hardened by betrayal, anger, and violence. Her lips were full and pouty and to his surprise, painted a deep crimson.

His thumb lightly traced the scar down her cheek.

"What happened?"

"Rancor beast," she said simply. "It would seem Jabba the Hutt keeps one as a pet. For when you piss him off."

Vader chuckled.

"And here?"

His hand drifted to her shoulder and touched another scar, a deep, wide gouge into the flesh.

"Lightsaber," she arched her brows in amusement. "It would seem Jedi get pissed off, too." She tilted her head to look at him. "And do you have any scars?"

He released her and stepped back a pace.

"Here and there," he answered.

Reaching up, he released the clasp of his cape and let it fall to the floor. Then he removed his own helmet, followed by his mask. The mechanical rhythm of breathing ceased as he lifted away the device and stared at her through brilliant blue eyes.

She drew back, then leaned forward.

He was not much older than her and had also been beautiful, once. She now wished she had paid more attention to the politics of the galaxy. She found she could not recall where or how he had risen to power.

Bounty hunters cared only about the target and the money that waited. They lived outside society and the law. The galaxy had changed around her and she had barely noticed. All Alaria could remember was that once there had been The Republic and now there was The Empire. This man who stood before her now, exuding power, had never been a placating politician. Clearly, he had been a warrior.

"We are not so different, you and I," he told her softly.

Unaltered, his voice was soft and soothing, almost gentle. He took her hand and brought it to his face, drawing her fingertips across one of his scars, located in roughly the same position as her own.

Her lips curled.

"Aren't we? I live outside the law. You are the law."

She did not draw back her hand. Her fascination had gotten the better of her.

He looked at her intently.

"I am Order, not law." He drew his thumb across her palm, massaging her muscles. "Even I have rules to follow."

She considered this.

His touch was firm and persistent, but gentle. She felt her defences unravelling.

She snatched her hand away and turned her back to him. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at the wall.

He followed.

She felt his breath against the back of her hair, his hands strong as he began to massage her neck.

"Why do you fight me?" he asked.

 Then he slipped inside her mind, feather-soft, searching. Her eyes fluttered closed.

"I will not," he said, answering her unasked questions. "When you give yourself to me, it will be of your own will."

"And yet you won't let me go," she said.

She did not move away.

"You are mine," he told her.

"I belong to no man," she trembled as she spoke, her conviction slipping.

"No, you belong to me. I'm no man. I'm a monster." He brought his fingers to her temples. "Rest. There will be more time for you and I."

She collapsed against him and he caught her easily, carrying her to the bed and setting her down. In sleep, her face softened and she looked almost angelic - vulnerable with her lips slightly parted.

He sighed and touched her cheek. She was strong and determined. So much like...

No. He wouldn't think of Her. She was gone. This woman was not - could never be - Padme. But perhaps, in time, she could ease his pain, and he, hers.

Alaria woke gradually in the darkness. She sat upright in the bed, impatiently waiting for her eyes to adjust. As the room began to focus, she realized she had been moved again. This was not the room she had been in before. The lights flickered on, and she saw him sitting calmly in a large chair beside the bed, watching her.

"My private chambers," he told her. "They are more comfortable, and secure. I do not like prying eyes."

"You did that," she scowled.

"Yes, I moved you here," he was smiling.

"No. I didn't just fall asleep. You did that."

"Did I?" He was toying with her. "Perhaps you simply exhausted yourself with your efforts to fight your own desires."

"My desires? You think I desire you? You forget I am Mandalorian. We don't breed outside our kind."

"Yes, I know," he was laughing at her now. "I've brought you a gift. Would you like to see?"

She snorted furiously, "I'm not a gown and jewellery kind of girl. You can't buy me."

He stood and extended his hand to her.

"Indulge me. You will be pleased."

Curiosity got the better of her. She took his outstretched hand and rose to her feet. He kept her hand in his and led her through the door into a spacious chamber with wide mats spread across the floor.

"My training room," he said. He brought her to the center of the room and stopped. "Wait here."

He disappeared behind the door against the opposite wall.

When he returned moments later, he was dragging something behind him. No, someone. Short limbs, blue tinted skin. Alaria recognized the captive: Dax.

"Lord Vader?" she asked, taking a tentative step forward.

"This is the one, is he not?" he grinned. "I would not deny you your revenge." He reached to his belt and withdrew his lightsaber. "I'll show you how to use it. I can keep him alive for as long as it pleases you to make him suffer."

She smiled at him.

She was slowly forgetting where she was and that she had been brought against her will. She laid a hand on his arm.

"Teach me."

He stepped behind her and circled his arms around her.

"The feel of a lightsaber is different from a vibrosword. The balance is gone because the blade is not solid."

He placed the weapon in her hands and curled his own atop hers. Pressing a button, the blade blinked into existence, humming idly. Carefully, patiently, he explained how to wield the blade, allowing her to feel his movements and copy them.

She was a fast learner, and he was pleased at her eagerness.

Their bodies moved together as one as he taught her, but before long he stepped back and watched as she practiced on her own.

Their captive regained consciousness only twice during her training, and each time, Vader stunned him into submission silently. He did not want her distracted. There would be time for vengeance later. For the time being, Alaria had forgotten Dax entirely. She was sweating from the effort and her body was covered with a light sheen. Vader felt a stirring in him as he watched the Mandalorian's fluid, controlled motion.

For hours she practiced, learning everything that he taught her with ease.

"Alaria," she paused, turned to face him. "That is enough for today. Your talent is impressive. I am pleased."

"And him?" she nodded towards Dax.

"I will have him held in a cell by himself. He will not be harmed; that pleasure is yours alone."

She looked at him intently.

"Am I expected to repay you for this gift?"

He grinned.

"Do you wish to repay me?"

She walked towards him and hooked the lightsaber onto his belt; her hands lingered at his waist.

Sensing the invitation, Vader took her face in his hand and brought his lips to hers. Alaria lost herself, returning the kiss with enthusiasm. Her tongue probed his mouth hungrily.

Before he could stop her, Alaria brought her knee up sharply, connecting with his groin. He grunted and doubled over, reaching out to grab her. The bounty hunter stepped neatly from his path.

She scowled at him.

"Did you think I was that easily won?"

Vader laughed throatily and clenched his fingers. He didn't have to be within reach to cause her pain.

Her hands flew to her throat as she fought to breathe and looked at him with wide, pleading eyes.

"For that," he said, rising to his feet, "you will repay me."

He released her and she crumpled to the floor.

When she regained consciousness, Alaria felt only pain. Her throat burned and her head throbbed savagely. She winced and tried to open her eyes. She found she couldn't.

"You try my patience with your stubbornness, pretty one," Vader's voice floated through her mind.

She felt his hands trail idly across her body and tried to jerk away; she could not move, either.

"The more you fight me, the less freedom you will have."

*You bastard! Let me go.*

He laughed.

"Your argument is tempting..."

She heard footsteps, growing steadily fainter.

"When you are ready to behave, you'll get the chance to earn your freedom back."

Then he was gone.

***

Alaria didn't know how long she'd been immobile within the neural restraint field. It seemed like years of time had passed. Occasionally she could hear him pacing around her, but there was no other sound, no feeling. For a while she was hungry, then it passed. At times she slept, but her dreams too we soundless and blind. She felt herself approaching the mouth of madness. Even the touch of the Sith Lord would be better than this void of existence.

*Vader!* she called out.

Silence.

*Lord Vader?*

Silence.

*My Lord? Please...,* she begged.

"Say it," he spoke aloud.

He was close, she could feel his breath against her cheek.

*Please release me. Let me feel again...*

He did.

Alaria opened her eyes. She was in his bedroom again, the light dim and gentle, inviting. He stood above the bed, watching her. He was naked above the waist, clad only in loose black slacks that hung from his chiselled, muscular hips. Her own clothes were gone.

"You only need ask, Alaria. I would give you whatever you wished, if you would only ask."

Tears welled in her eyes.

Damn him!

She hated that he made her feel so weak! She hated that he made her want him. Alaria rolled out of the bed and attempted to stand; immediately her legs gave out beneath her. Then Vader was there, strong arms circling around her waist to hold her.

"I hate you!" she breathed.

She reached up to grab his face with slender hands and pulled him down to her.

"I hate you," she whispered again, and kissed him.

Vader's eyes widened, and he tightened his embrace as she kissed him greedily. This one was feisty indeed.

Alaria fell back onto the bed, drawing him down on top of her, then rolled over so that she was straddling him. He let her, enjoying her desire for control. He slipped into her thoughts, curiosity overwhelming him.

*I control my life,* Alaria whispered to herself silently. *I control my life...,* she repeated the phrase like a mantra as her mouth locked onto his lower lip and she bit down on the flesh there.

Her hands explore the contours of his chest, tracing the grooves of the muscles. She found his nipples and pinched them lightly, then twisted roughly.

Vader drew in his breath sharply, encouraging her.

She pulled away and licked her lips seductively, watching him through hooded, lustful eyes. He ran his hands across her back caressing the soft flesh there. Alaria slid down his body with slow deliberation, drawing her tongue lightly down his chest, tracing the same path her hands had taken. She pushed his slacks down over his hips, stopping when she was eye level with his prick.

She was quite the seductress, his little bounty hunter.

Her tongue drew lazy circles up one side of his member and down the other. She took the swollen head into her mouth and sucked gently. Vader groaned. Slowly, teasingly, she increased the pressure as she moved downward, taking in more of his length. Then she withdrew, scraping her teeth against his shaft. She repeated the gesture, each time moving farther down his prick. She swept her tongue from side to side along the bottom of his penis, feeling the rhythmic pulse of blood through the vein there.

Vader's eyes rolled back in his head as he felt the first pearly drops of liquid ooze from him; Alaria swallowed them hungrily. She kept one hand pressed flat on his stomach and reached with the other to cup his balls, rolling them in her palm.

Her Lord reached down and grabbed her hair at the base of her skill, guiding her. He pushed his hips upwards until he was entirely engulfed by her mouth, ignoring her gags as he pressed against the back of her throat. From the moment he first saw her, he'd known she would please him.

With his free hand, Vader took her own palm from his stomach and brought her fingertips to his mouth. He sucked them in, matching her rhythm with his own. She moaned against his flesh, sending a delicious shiver up his spine.

*My pretty warrior,* he whispered in her mind. *My precious Mandalorian whore. You are MINE.*

He pulled her up by her hair to face him.

"Kiss me," he commanded.

"As you wish, my Lord," she grinned.

He kept his hand twined in her hair and reached down with the other to tease the swollen folds of her sex. She parted willingly for him, already dripping with moisture. He guided his prick to her entrance pushing up with his hips to thrust his tip inside her. Alaria moaned loudly into his mouth and lowered herself onto him, pushing him deep inside her.

His eyes fluttered closed and he heard her thoughts again.

*I may be yours, my Lord, but you are mine as well.*

Alaria was far from virginal. Bounty hunters learn quickly that using innate talents will produce bigger, better targets, but she had never truly enjoyed sex, her body was merely another weapon to wield. What she felt as she moved with the Sith Lord buried deep inside her was a sensation entirely foreign to her. Her carefully-crafted control was obliterated as he teased her, guiding her to her first true orgasm.

Lord Vader groaned beneath her, thrusting his hips in time with her undulations. She was skilled in the act of lovemaking, but he sensed something unexpected in her. Hesitation? No, fear. She was afraid - much as he was - of losing control.

She raised herself up to sit astride his body, hands planted firmly on his chest. Vader reached up and grasped her breasts, kneading the flesh in slow circles. She moaned and threw her head back, her long hair brushing his thighs. Alaria was enjoying herself, to be sure, but had not yet given up her control. He would not be satisfied until she did.

In one powerful, fluid motion, he pulled her down to him and rolled her over onto her back. Immediately he felt her stiffen, though she did not stop the steady rocking of her hips.

*Give into it, Alaria,* he whispered in her mind as he increased the length of his thrusts.

Vader laced his fingers through hers and held her arms above her head.

*Give into me.*

"Don't," she moaned.

"Don't what, pretty one?" he asked aloud, grinning as he continued his assault on both her body, and her mind.

Her moans became a continuous chorus, then crescendoed into a cacophony of haphazardous cries. Before long she was cumming, head thrashing from side to side, tears streaming down her face, the perfect picture of tragic ecstasy.

Her orgasm was enough to trigger Vader's own. With one more thrust he released himself deep into her, unable to suppress his moans. He cried out her name and collapsed atop her, sated.

Rolling onto his back, he pulled Alaria with him, holding her head against his chest possessively.

"I am pleased, precious one," he murmured into her hair and drifted off to sleep.

She lay awake in his arms, listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat for some time before joining him in slumber.

*******

When she woke, Alaria was alone. It was the first time she had awakened and not found Lord Vader near her. In fact, it was the first time he had left her alone - and mobile - at all. She expected to find herself in a cage or cell, or tossed thoughtlessly into his harem, but looking around revealed that she was still in his private bedroom. Curious. Her clothes had been folded neatly and placed on a chair beside the bed. Reaching for them, she dressed and sat down to wait, expecting Vader to return shortly.

When the door leading from the outside hallway finally did slide open, it was not Lord Vader who entered, but the spindly Lieutenant she had met her first day on the Imperial grounds - the one she had originally mistaken for her date.

"Madame." He bristled and straightened his shoulders, looking straight ahead at nothing, his fingers nervously clutching the fabric of his pants. "Lord Vader wishes me to inform you that his presence has become necessary elsewhere for the time being. He instructs that you are to stay here and wait for his return." Alaria's eyes narrowed. "He, uh, has given you permission to use his quarters freely, including his training room."

"And how long am I to stay here and wait, exactly?"

She might as well be in a cage after all, for all the freedom she was to have.

"His Lordship was uncertain," the Lieutenant paused.

"What?"

" I am to have you sign this, Madame."

From his jacket the man produced a single document. He still would not look at her.

Alaria snatched the paper from his hands and skimmed through it quickly.

A contract. It was a contract indebting her to no less than five years as a concubine for Lord Vader, to be precise.

She snorted and ripped the paper in half, then held it out to the Lieutenant.

"If you see the bastard before I do, tell him to shove this up his ass. If not, I'll tell him myself."

The man blanched. He opened his mouth to protest, and then shut it again. He turned and nearly ran from the room.

Alaria spent her first day of confinement in Vader's training room, amusing herself with his vast collection of weaponry. She was disappointed to discover that he had not left a lightsaber for her to practice with, but found she was quite capable of inflicting damage in a variety of other ways.

On the second day, she requested that Dax be brought to the training room. She spent the majority of the day torturing him, but grew bored of his screams by late afternoon and crushed his skull with the Gaffi stick she found propped against one wall.

On the third day, the Lieutenant returned with a second copy of the contract and again asked her to sign. She broke three fingers in his left hand and tore the contract into tiny pieces, then disposed of it in the refresher. She was attended to by droids after that.

Alaria managed to slice the control panel in the bedroom on the fourth day, and get the door to the hallway open. She was nearly to the transport dock before they caught her.

She broke one guard's arm and sliced off another's leg with his own vibrosword before they managed to disarm her and drag her back to her prison.

The droid who brought her dinner that evening informed her they were prepared to place her in a neural restraint field if she attempted to escape again. The weapons from the training room were removed and hidden.

By Day 13, Alaria had realized something was wrong. She had no appetite, and promptly vomited anything she did manage to consume.

She asked her protocol droid to bring her a medical droid and test her body for toxins or disease. She feared that her captors had resorted to drugging her to prevent her escape attempts.

On Day 14, the Dark Lord returned.

She couldn't help but chuckle at Lord Vader's approach. His steps were even heavier than usual and he was barking instructions in swift, angry tones. She leaned back in the bed, propping herself against the stack of pillows her droid had brought in earlier. If he was even half as angry as she was, this would be very interesting.

He was a whirl of black fury when he entered, approaching the bed in large, measured strides to grab her by the throat.

"How dare you defy me!" he roared. "I should kill you now for your impudence."

She glared at him defiantly and saw her own face reflected imperfectly in the black expanse of his mask, steely black eyes ablaze with anger.

"Then do it!" she challenged.

He released her throat and took hold of her hair, pulling her out of the bed to her feet. He dragged her to a table against the wall and pointed. Another copy of the contract lay innocently upon its surface.

"Sign it," he ordered.

"No."

Vader pushed her face closer to the paper.

"You will sign. Now," he seethed.

"I would die first," she spat.

"Damn you, Alaria!" he released her and began to pace the room like a caged animal. "Have you any idea the liberties I've given you? Do you know how many women I've allowed to roam freely in my quarters?"

"I would guess the same number of women carrying your children in their wombs," she countered calmly.

The Sith Lord froze. His back to her, she saw his shoulders stiffen.

"Perhaps your other whores are content to bear your bastards in silence from your harem walls. I am not. You will have to kill me." She paused. "...and your child," she added softly.

He turned to look at her slowly. She felt his presence at the edges of her mind and she nodded, inviting him to explore her thoughts. He felt her anger, her frustration, her fear... and there. A tiny spark of life inside her.

She spoke the truth.

Alaria waited patiently for him to finish, watching with anticipation.

Vader walked to the wall console and engaged the chemical field that would protect him. He removed his helmet and mask, and placed them on the table where the contract lay, forgotten.

"How?" he asked finally.

She smirked. "You were there, my Lord. You know how."

Always the smartass, his precious one.

"But I cannot father children," he insisted. "My injuries..."

Alaria arched her eyebrows. "It would seem you were misinformed in that regard. Do you doubt that this child is yours?"

He didn't. The child inside her was most definitely his; the Force swirled around it protectively. He again tapped into her psyche, absorbing the child's presence reverently.

His child.

"You have been ill," he stated suddenly. "You need to lie down."

"Yes," she answered, returning to the bed and climbing in, grateful.

She would have stood there for the next ten hours if required, but the nausea was washing over her in waves, and she was glad to be off her feet again. The medical droid had explained to her that, while sickness this early in pregnancy was not impossible, it was rare and required careful attention.

She settled herself into her nest of pillows once more and looked at him expectantly.

He sat quietly at the foot of the bed, watching her.

"You caused quite a mess while I was away," he said.

Alaria chuckled. "How is Lieutenant Denbal?"

Vader looked at her sternly. "I intended to kill him when I learned you had not signed the contract. Then I saw the damage you had inflicted and decided the man has already suffered for his failure. In the future, perhaps I should punish my men by subjecting them to ten minutes in your presence; it appears to be far more effective than any torture I have previously used."

She grinned at him. "I had to amuse myself somehow in your absence."

"Woman, you are as impossible as you are beautiful!" he exclaimed.

Beautiful? This was not a word she would use to describe herself.

She studied him. The second most powerful man in the Empire.

The father of her child.

He seemed almost... relaxed as he sat with her, his expression almost... kind.

"I still won't sign," she said quietly, casting a sideways glance at the table.

Vader sighed. "Alaria, I cannot tolerate disobedience."

"So you would force this on me. Why?" she sat up straight, pleading. "You would lock me away? Keep me in a cage at your beck and call? How long, my Lord, until I am forgotten? How long before you leave me to rot?"

He leaned forward and took her face in his hand. The gesture was uncharacteristically gentle, she could have turned away with no effort at all.

"I wish to keep you, precious one. I wish to have you – and my child – by my side."

"I would stay with you, if you asked," her eyes met his with longing. "But I will not be your whore. I am Mandalorian. I would die if I could not live free."

Again he sighed, dropping his hand to the sheets. She was speaking truths. She was radiant in her defiance. He saw so much of Padme in her, it caused an aching in his chest, pain to a heart he had long thought dead. It had been his own selfish notions that had destroyed Padme, his own stubbornness that had driven her to Obi-Wan's meddling influences, and away from him.

Alaria watched him patiently, expectantly. His face was masked with calm collection that belied his inner struggle. He broke their gaze and glanced to the table. A slight gesture of his hand and the contract was floating towards them. He plucked it from the air and held it before her.

"Will you sign?" he asked.

She shook her head. "That is something I cannot do."

He was unable to hide the jolt of startled recognition that passed through him. Padme's words.

"Very well," he said slowly. He tore the contract in half, then in quarters.

"You will kill me now," she said matter-of-factly.

"No," he answered softly. "Now I ask you one final question. Will you stay with me?"

"Yes, my Lord," Alaria whispered softly. "I will."

Vader nodded. It was decided.

-END-

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