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mandalhoerian · 2 years

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Death Before Dishonor | 1

Pairing: darth vader x reader, anakin skywalker x reader

Notes: fem!reader, mandalorian!reader, inquisitor!reader

Summary: You have become the young war hero Anakin Skywalker's right hand in his pursuit to reunite the galaxy in Emperor Palpatine's reign. It's the rumored aftermath of the war between dark and light, but you are a Mandalorian, Jedi and Sith don't mean anything to you, in fact, they are the same existence that led to the destruction of your planet a millennia ago. Their war is something you don't care to know about, you're aware you won't understand anyway, there is a lot you're told to keep your nose out of as just a soldier to obey commands.

One of those things is the distinction between Darth Vader and Anakin Skywalker; you weren't told why they must be addressed as two separate beings. Who he is really and who he appears as to the HoloNet confuse you endlessly when they are the same in your mind: both look at you in secret mourning.

You can't afford to find out why.

Warning(s): the reader is fucking UNHINGED, like there's barely any fluff and plenty of dark stuff in there. mentions of death, violence, allusions to smut/sexual relationship. it's a vader/reader story and both of them are twisted. the bond between them is not funny haha its funny weird. ur kinda (!!!) emo yikes sorry abt that lmao but hey at least you have gaslight gatekeep girlbossed your way into inquisitorship, you also respect vader the same way markiplier respects lady dimitrescu, aka "its not a sexual thing its about power" . i love this dynamic hhh

Author's Note: this is like my first story/post on tumblr and the prologue got 60 notes, I'm so happy, thank you to all those who showed their support, honestly I did NOT expect it!

Please don't hesitate to send me any asks/submissions if you'd like to talk more, I would love to hear feedback and your thoughts! I hear there's something called "tag list" and everything, so if you'd like to be notified when dbd updates, please contact me! Happy reading!

Word Count: Over 10K im so fucking sorry

prologue | 1

You had fought by Lord Vader's side for as long as you can remember. It was the clearest memory you have in your life. Only through experience would someone come to know purpose is something this addicting, it really left nothing in a person unrelated to anything other than what it desired. And right now it desired to serve Vader until your last breath.

You didn't lurk in his shadow like a hidden tool to be used, no, but went out of your way to bare your teeth at any kind of threat he pointed his sizzling lightsaber at.

You slashed your way across the stars, blinded by the red bloody victories vibrating the ever-treacherous life in your veins, only to be satisfied with them in a span short as the blinding explosion of a supernova. Yet they seemed to be more addicting in the aftermath of a star storm, leaving an emptiness ravenous for more━━always hungry for more.

Even though being a prisoner of war has elevated you to stand with a strong warrior like no other as him, you believe it is an honor to be allowed not just a few steps behind him, but standing right by his side. Not everybody is strong enough to desire that position. Only the ones who don't owe anything to death itself would do what you do, and oh what an old friend of yours death is.

After Galactic Empire's foundation, the darksaber, the sign of the Manda'lor, has been cemented on your hand as the greatest mockery to your planet, crowning you as the one representing Manda'yaim, and keeping you as a hostage to ensure their loyalty. The Mandalorians may have been engaged in a never-ending civil war to bring the other party down for years, but they didn't take kindly to outsiders trying to bend the knee of another Mandalorian, even when it was their enemy.

However, the outsider they sent to do the job was different.

You remember Vader descending on your planet of desolation, to crush their necks into submission like a blackened god of war carved from soot-black diamond dissatisfied with his subjects; ardent, burning breaths branding the fear of oblivion on all of the clans. He was a mighty, volatile dragon.

You remembers the awe, the catharsis striking your heart like a bolt of thunder, that this creature of pure force and vigor is the true warrior you had been looking to fight for all your life. Most importantly, the honor.

You, despite your identity of a true Mandalorian, once upon a time might have been betraying that heart by keeping a dream of spring instead of wild flames of rebellion; you might have been having visions of a peaceful family tinkering in joy with laughter, with light━━however, those mirages were soon shattered by the ruthless claw of that black dragon the moment he set his eyes on you. The same dragon that clenched your respect and loyalty and in an iron grip, gave you the pain of having ambition and woke you up to the unnamed potential lying deep within you. The shapeless darkness swirling inside your guts like newborn worms turned into snakes, turned into basilisks, and snuffed out even the tiniest specks of hope and light you had for your clan. They didn't deserve your loyalty, they were nothing compared to the almighty strength he radiated like a whole galaxy burning away just like that.

And you happily knelt, instead of cowering in fear, you embraced the slithering, domineering dragon as the one who you wanted to serve, wore his mask as his Inquisitor and in the competition of being the best, stroke down every single Jetii he showed as a target. Your Mando'ade heritage gave you the best advantage of them all, and you fought not because you were told to serve the empire, but because you wanted to wage war under Vader's glory and honor your roots in your own way.

Now they sneered at your name, whispered traitor behind your back, yelled dar'manda at your face as they challenge you to duel after duel to take the darksaber back. They had turned their backs on you right after you were taken to Coruscant, and yet they saw the righteousness in themselves to smear your name in the dirt?

Wear your anger as you gird on your armor, says Vader, and you do, you never forgive them, give them the fury of a thousand dying, screaming stars and continues to maul the galaxy for fugitive Jedi. Every time you succeed, you can feel Vader's respect growing ever so slowly, and that feels like a rare treasure every bounty hunter, pirate and scoundrel is after in the galaxy.

You may have been just a failure as a Mandalorian in the eyes of your clan leader Pre Vizsla, but you will bring no dishonor to Darth Vader.

Inquisitorius was silently protesting you.

What a shocker.

The hidden part of you seeking for acceptance wanted so badly to get to the root of the problem and discard it entirely upon solving it; however, the current you who had bathed in the flames of your master's enlightenment desired to crush those who even dared to attempt disrespecting you —— and that dominant part was feeding off of the shadowy, putrid abomination of a thousand years old primeval suffering of the former, mutating the weakness into something monstrous.

Even though you had shed your skin like a snake and had become a completely different kind of reptile, it still hadn't changed what remained inside and it would never change the attitudes people were going to have towards whatever you liquified yourself to take the shape of. What more did they want from you?

It felt degrading to admit that you would be forever hurt over never being acknowledged, all you ever knew was shame over rejection and homesickness for something more after all. Having bled into your shadow, it was still haunting you to this day like an archaic curse.

Nobody would listen to your voice back at Concordia, you always felt like weak embers of a trampled campfire, barely able to lit yourself back on again with the help of an occasional gust of wind. The loneliness of an entire galaxy —— the empty blackness that laid between stars and planets would fall upon your shoulders, and you would feel as tongueless as The Force, ever-existent but never able to directly make yourself be heard.

Being entirely powerless against a society you were secretly a nonconformist in crumpled your already defeated heart, it was always hell under the sky for you on that Force-forsaken moon. Not only were you a muted oracle, but you had to witness your people perish at the hands of what you had constantly warned them about as well —— had to see your closest family's head roll off his shoulders with what he stubbornly refused to let go of.

Now seeing you were stuck in a cycle just frustrated you. The reality that you still got the same treatment like it was out of some dumb history repeating itself cliché from a holodrama stung you unexpectedly when you had first noticed it, but all it did at the moment was to pour hot oil on your anger. Especially when you finally had someone who accepted you for who you were and more, a person who you harbored unbreakable respect for and would follow to the ends of the galaxy with inexhaustible loyalty.

And some silly childish boycotting by power-hungry ex-Jedi was enough to tip the glass of your sanity and make you plan an entire massacre, just because they were a possible threat to you bringing honor to this man.

Vader looked like an obsidian statue with his unmoving black-cloaked figure standing right in front of the entire window wall, facing the black vastness outside, gazing at the planet engirdled by his hive-like fleet. The Emperor had ordered a siege, and as much as you majorly operated as an Inquisitor, you were also Vader's right hand, meaning your aid was consistently needed aside from Jedi hunting conquests. However, you couldn't even solve one single problem to give your full attention to the current case on your hand.

Your helmet under one arm, contempt-flushed girl that you were tried your darnedest to stop your teeth from loudly gritting as you voiced the unnecessary question as an affirmation of his already established rules. "We are still working on dealing with the holo-faker, my lord."

A couple of heartbeats long of time filled the silence in Vader's headquarters in the spaceship before he slightly turned his head around as if he wasn't sure he heard you correctly. "The holo-faker? He is supposed to be six feet under at this very moment. My orders were crystal clear. What is the meaning of this?"

You wanted to bury yourself in a hole at how his eyes narrowed at the irrelevancy - because he was right. Former golden politician of the previous Galactic Republic, the marvel woman of Naboo, Padmé Amidala, had kicked off the decision to close all the military bases the empire had on capital grounds, thereby triggering the emperor's impatience over silly power games. They were to stand their ground until further orders came from the imperial senate and block all trade and travel routes.

And you were talking to Vader about the holo-faker they were already done working with.

You weren't fretting over having had not obeyed him, but because of not having control over the other inquisitors even about getting the smallest job done —— it affected and delayed everything.

If you were hiding under the cooling steel of your mask, it would be easier to hide the exasperation you were trying to suppress in front of Vader —— even though he always seemed to be aware of what even you yourself didn't know were feeling, as if they were color-coded and were displayed with labels right in front of him waiting to be read aloud. Yet, you still tried to hide away the displeasing details you found would be gum under his heavy metallic boots, so that you could deal with them on your own and your lord wouldn't bother himself with them at all.

He was meant for the glory of the battlefield, the ashen scented blood-red victories waiting for him across the galaxy, Vader was made out of the infrangible amalgamation of sun-soaked gold and black Mandalorian iron —— he certainly was above the clownery happening in his ranks.

He turned to you suddenly. The little hairs on your neck stood on their end with a sudden, blinding flash of a spike in the Force, right after the realization dawned on him, he didn't need to hear from you what went down. Though an endless ocean of stars illuminated him from behind and reduced his form into a shadowy blur, you could easily tell his burning yellow eyes apart.

Shame cascaded down and you had to anchor your gaze down at your feet to remain stabilized. "My apologies, I shouldn't have dared to busy you with trivial matters such as this. I——"

You heard his loud footsteps slowly approaching, each sounding like pillars of concentrated iron thundering down on the ground belonging to a titan.

You didn't fear what his reaction to was going to be to your failure, an army of furies were batting their wings violently in your stomach at the very notion of disappointing him. "Forgive me for my ineptness, I should have done better."

His warning as he reached you felt too feathery for something meant to be alarming. "There is nothing to forgive. Raise your head."

Golden mist clouded your brain upon the close proximity, chilly air of the spaceship turning lukewarm on your skin like you had been resting in a sunbathed arbor for a while.

It was foolish to think this way about a man as lethal as him; bravery and fearlessness were two different things and you were sure you were neither of them.

Your heart betrayed you by humming sleekly whenever he was close and you sometimes wondered if it was because you had become as terrifying as of an abomination just like Vader —— perhaps both of you were tuned to a beastly kind of menace in your ways, who knew?

When you remained succumbed into silence, Vader put his non-mechanic fingers under your chin and raised your head to look you straight in your eyes. The rush of sparks spreading on the skin there shocked you slightly, flinching at the never-ending coyness that washed over you every single time something like this happened. "Never bow to me like that again. You aren't on the level of those incompetent fools."

Vader was nothing but a vengeful, flame-drowned dragon of darkness, extinguishing novas sprouting in the galaxy with void-dipped fingers tasting of sin —— yet, there was undeniable tenderness blossoming as asters and starflowers in his gaze, affection of a primeval being of colossal chaos trying to be so careful in his way of reaching out to not swallow up the subject of his deepest admirations.

It was directed at you and shook you to your core every single time.

You would drown in that bottomless well, not knowing what to call the waters, for never had anybody ever looked at you that way before, you didn't know anything like it, as if you didn't have red on your armor —— as if you were an entity created to be loved and loved only; a starseed of the universe, darling, beloved, dearest.

Like all things truly evil, born from pure star-white innocence.

"I won't idly stand by when petty attempts of competition are slackening my troops." Vader sighed, anger creeping back on his spine as he pulled his hands away from your skin, eyebrows pulled together in contempt.

His inquisitor found the decision unwise, not wanting him to exert himself with idle subjects, for he was a Lord of the Sith. "Lord Vader, you do not need to waste precious time with getting involved in this, you are above that. Leave this to me."

Something in the sentence ticked him off, and you knew very well that Vader never held back when he found disrespect directed at him, but you didn't understand whatever you could have said that upset him this much.

"Very well, then," he said, turning his body back at the glass wall, and both of them stared in silence at the horrid portrait of Naboo, resembling a dead animal surrounded by hungry wasps.

He didn't dismiss you, and he explained the reason why soon enough. "However, it seems that order needs to be brought to my chain of command. You know what you have to do."

Sometimes you couldn't explain some of your own behavior in a way that made sense. Like while sleeping, you always seemed to curl into yourself like an animal would preserve body heat, always clutching your abdomen to yourself instinctively. Acute longing for something so delicate would seep into the hard ice surface of your stinking rotten soul; sad, sad, endlessly melancholic for an unknown loss.

You mused it was for all the things you never had and what they turned you into; the regret it stank with. But that was not it. Your arms would itch to hold, your heart would expand like you had been a saint all along, but as the dawn brought the deepest darkness along with the cold, you would cast those pitiful vulnerabilities down to the hell of your sins and emerge as the newly appointed Supreme Inquisitor.

A durasteel fist of the Galactic Empire never wept, so you turned to scorching hot anger and let the flames evaporate them, relishing in the burning pain bringing sense into you.

Pain was the most uncomplicated emotion of them all, such primitiveness and simplicity eliminating anything that tried to get close, so you only allowed it to be a part of herself. There was no going back anymore. You had already made your choice and it was to fight for Darth Vader, rejecting your entire Mando identity and embracing being a dar'manda —— a state of not being Mandalorian; not an outsider, but one who had lost your heritage, and so your identity and your soul, regarded with absolute dread by most traditional-minded Mando'ade.

You were a Mando'ad no more. To your people, you had no soul. Perhaps that was true, you had sold your soul to the dark dragon to gain power, yet you were still holding onto the darksaber which belonged to your people to spite them all, trapping the souls unfortunate Jedi and traitors to the empire in the pitch-black blade —— unconsciously trying to fill the void where your soul once shone like a lone star with them, but none of them fit. None of them ever would.

It only ever felt mended when you had him. When he had you.

All locked within those moments of heavy hot air, damp breaths, sparks popping on lips stained with burgundy and sin-heavy with unsheathed words, freezing dew clinging at the back of two intertwined bodies, earthquake tremors running down your limbs as you yearned and ached. Furnace hearts pumped lava into the cracks webbing your skins, purified black eyes with the universe captured in them clashed in the dark with a sky blue like it has never met one before —— like two suns crashing into each other and burning everything, melt any darkness, painting you with molten silver and gold so that in their journey the touch would sing and chime with murmurs of starlight.

It is the only light you know, the only light you have ever felt, all of them coming from a darkling; steely pristine skin that crackles with electricity when you touch, a lion's mane for hair and merciless pools of inflamed despair for eyes surrounded by tired black and purple —— an ugly fireborn dragon wearing a celestial's face.

Endlessly pained for something you can't look directly at.

It taught you that fire does not only burn, but it is also a source of light as well.

However, that last part was only for you, who (foolish, one might think) had never feared the flames and pain, who didn't hesitate to soar in the skies, aiming for the sun itself with wings made of feathers and wax, you persisted. And not even once did you feel anything other than admiration, respect and desire to be close for him.

Your eyes are not their former color anymore anymore, you knew, they are as sulfur as his, as if to reflect him somehow, to reach him —— yes, to catch up to him, you didn't want to lose that feeling of destiny, the immeasurable amount of raw strength pouring into your soul through the unexplainable yet tangible bond connecting you to Vader.

You couldn't name it, maybe it was delusional and drunken of you to feel like you were dipped in a novastorm whenever you fought back to back, ever the addictive sensation, but that thing enveloping you in a blanket of apricity and curiously, home, would make the unshaped words hanging about meaningless in the end.

It didn't need to be said out loud, monsters of the same kind would stay with each other nonetheless —— and you were delighted, it was serendipity that he found you, even his acceptance was more than enough.

So you got up, as long as you were needed by him, you would always get up, no matter how deep you had fallen.

Standing around a giant bulky holotable, three inquisitors of different races and genders had their blank eyes on the three-dimensional map of Naboo in front of them, having just been informed by an imperial attendant of the latest news. The silence fallen upon them was swallowed up by the near bustling stormtroopers and anxious military officers attending to their duties, going around the main bridge of the unmoving Star Destroyer one hundred kilometers outside of the planet.

First Brother, a well-groomed Miralian male with shimmery pink skin and diamond-shaped light purple tattoos scattered around his nose area, was the first one to shake off his speechlessness. The luminous blue of the hologram map glinted in his eyes, reflecting a welcome surprise. "The Supreme Inquisitor. Huh."

Third Sister retaliated, the iciness of all the metal surrounding them had seeped into her limbs, she stood motionless but her anger was an alarming red. "I can't believe this."

Eleventh Brother was playful, the shade of the hologram painting his mischief-holding yellow eyes blue like his skin. He was bulkier than the other two, however, the way he spread his palms on the edge of the table and put his weight on them and leaning over made him look smaller than he was. "How well do you think she screwed Vader to swoop the rank from him like hair out the butter? The man must have been to the neighboring galaxy and back."

The female inquisitor's frustration was dripping into the Force. "He is thoroughly blinded. I can't believe it. The Emperor must know about this."

The Miralian, however, was annoyed and uncomfortable in his own skin, imagining a thousand eyeballs materializing above their heads directing their unblinking gazes at them. It was a touchy subject. They were treading on thin ice by talking about it in an open space like this, he knew very well of the infamous temper of Vader when he even felt like his decisions were being questioned. "You metalhead, of course he already knows about everything. Who do you think Darth Vader is?"

The Pantoran tilted his head comically to agree with him, while the sister crossed her arms, taking a more defensive stance. It had fueled her forward, not even close to stopping her. Third Brother had to press on. "You're also forgetting who she is."

Her fingers were twitching slightly. "She charmed you as well."

"Charmed?" His voice got unconsciously higher and he heard Eleventh Brother taking in a long, exhausted breath, this was quickly turning into a heated conversation. "All the girl does is completing the missions she is given. Why are you so agitated?"

Third Sister suddenly opened her arms wide. The respect for Supreme Inquisitor obviously ticked her in the wrong way. "Because she gets undeserved favoritism!"

"I just told you why it's not undeserved. You're really letting your reason fly away like that?"

Eleventh Brother, then, physically came between them at the disdainful non-verbal mention of dark side, eyeing the officers slowing down to take a look at them now fully shouting at each other. "Come on, don't get heated up both of you." A lazy smile spread over his face. "Let's agree to shag Skywalker and get ourselves some well-deserved vacation, huh?"

But it did nothing to calm Third Brother's nerves, he wasn't overly relaxed like the other guy. "Ssshhhhh! Do not address him like that! You're going to get blasted in the head."

"I don't think he's that strong in the Force to pick up whatever comes out of people's mouths. At least not yet anyway," was his response. The Miralian knew he was doing his best to lighten up the mood so this didn't end up as a mistake getting one of them in trouble in the end, but calling Vader by that name anywhere, even in secret, meant a direct death sentence, it wasn't something to be joked about.

"It's Lord Vader to us, be careful."

"Relax, I'm not that dumb." The sudden emotion showing itself towards the end and curtaining over his face shocked the other inquisitors. "It's just. . . I find it hard to get used to. He was someone else before, you know?"

They were all flashing back to the same day, who the most called Great Jedi Purge. The silent Third Sister had been the one to speak first, after a while of solemn quietude. "New meditation techniques not working for you?"

"Not in the slightest. If he found out I am behind on this, Vader would chop off my left hand as well. . ."

"That is meant to teach you loss and pain, it's not a punishment," Third Brother intercepted, ignoring the slight humor his fellow inquisitor was using to mask his weakness. He was a guy that followed orders, and it was very pristine to the eye. Dark Side hadn't been able to purge that out of him.

"I think we've experienced enough loss and pain, don't you think?" It was a throaty murmur that came from Eleventh Brother. "The absence of a limb means nothing."

When a surge in the Force came the Miralian's way, it was too late for him to stop Third Sister from continuing to ramble on. "Speaking of which, did our Supreme get any of her limbs cut away?"

"Oh for the love of —— drop it."

"No, listen. This is not fair."

"It's about individual progress, you can't put her and yourself in the same equation, it doesn't work like that," he whispered, getting hurried and irked with each word mainly out of fear. The holomap was already forgotten. They looked suspicious, huddled up together like that. "We were Jedi, it's hard for us to leave the old ways behind. She only has been exposed to the dark side. It's natural that her advancement is different."

It was logic. Though it penetrated her ears, the meaning never reached her completely. "The way she fights —— I can't wrap my head around it."

Her eyes moved left and right, erratic as she remembered, countless battles coming one after the other, lining up in her head. Each one of them focusing on one pair, always together, never going the opposite way in a clash. Moving in complete harmony and sync, reminiscing one superior mind controlling two separate bodies. "She completely parallels Vader, it's like they are parts of the same machine and I think I'm going crazy sometimes when I think about it."

One hand was holding onto her elbow tightly, the other hand moved up and down, vertical to the ground, to emphasize her words. "There's no way she could have picked up on the technique that fast without getting special treatment is what I'm getting at. It's the main thing that infuriates me."

"Is it?"

"What are you suggesting?"

"It is because she became more masterful in a matter of months isn't it?" First Brother said, not holding back in the slightest, calling her out on it. The way her chin moved in a circle with a completely closed mouth gave her away. "Her achieving that level of skill and leaving the rest of us behind pisses you off because you're envious of that power. It's the greed talking, not you."

"But you can't say that I'm wrong," she shook her head, raising her eyebrow with a smile like she was proud of a secret. "The Al'Verde, Unifier of Mandalore or whatever the kriff her other titles are, I don't care. She can't be capable of this much."

In the corner of his eye, First Brother saw the burly Pantoran getting very shifty on his feet, a sign of anxiety from him.

Then he noticed why, as the sign hit him too, a chip in the force, like a faraway warning.

Third Sister was getting too vexed to notice it as she didn't stop talking for one second, and Third Brother was lost in the moment once again. "She's meant to be a pawn to the empire, a hostage, because all those helmetheads only seem to get smart when it's about war. The idiot had it coming for getting involved with the Rebellion. Everybody knows this, yet we still have to pretend."

She was talking about how Mandalore was forced to make a treaty with the Galactic Empire. This event, even though it led to her eventual arrest and recruitment into the military, had made way to Imperial Initiative in which the newly started empire went on a treaty spree to collect all the Separatist, Neutral and rogue planets without violence. This was of course a plot to force the planets into peace, but it was still effective.

"Now, compare that to me, do you get the picture? I deserve to be in a superior higher-up position, don't you think?" Third Sister almost commanded, the corners of her eyes crinkled, eventually turning into a full-on glare. "Even if we leave this all aside, she doesn't even know how to use the Force that much and here she is, the great Supreme of Inquisitorius. This is not fair."

"It doesn't matter. Do you want me to flash the headline on HoloNet or something?" Frustrated, he raked his fingers through his hair. "The number of successes you bring to the empire decides your worth. Last time I checked, Mandos were on a different tier considering the warmongering past."

"So? That doesn't prove that she isn't privileged."

"Maybe because being a political figure requires the empire to make her look good." Once again, Eleventh Brother tried to sweeten both of the worked up Inquisitors. He thrust his fists into the air in a caricaturish, slow victorious manner.

Third Brother wanted this conversation to be over, the unrest pooling in his stomach was too alarming to be ignored. "It's because she's better at our job than you are. Face it. There is nothing else to it."

Third Sister's arms, untangled from their lock earlier, now dangled down her sides. She gave a bitter laugh. "It's not exactly encouraging motivation-wise when you feel like you're disposable."

Eleventh Brother snorted, his usual mocking still there, but now molded with irony. "I thought you already knew we are expendable to the empire."

But the person who responded wasn't either one of the three. "You are."

They didn't even feel her coming, gliding up to them from the shadows. And suddenly, the famous darksaber was peeking out from just beside Third Sister's neck, the inquisitor's face contorted in raw shock before she dropped to the ground, trembling and clutching the raw burn. It was the loud sound of her hitting metal that made the other two scramble back in panic, their hands hanging afloat.

"Stars!" was the only thing coming out of the Miralian before he had literally jumped out of his skin, the Force hadn't even poked one of them, not a last-second warning at all too. Third Sister was about to be executed just like that.

Inside of his skull was white. Void of any thoughts. Nothing came to mind. Third Sister literally laid violently trembling at their feet.

Supreme Inquisitor's force signature slammed on their faces much later, like the heel of a foot descending on a bug, the faint crunching sound got to him in his imagination and he looked at Third Sister once again, sprawled out on the floor. He felt an entire wall of frosty fury pressing down on his body, and not even a smudge of remorse was there for almost taking a life.

Eleventh Brother was just as horrified, his cowering stature resembling a frightened child's, which was ironic because the woman in front of them, standing silent and mute while waves of danger rolled intensely out of her through the Force, was much smaller compared to his species.

The Pantoran and he held eye contact for a fleeting second. The former's face held a fear of death while Third Brother was still thinking about the current overwhelming presence being entirely missed by all three of them, how long had she been listening to them for?

Her T-shaped eye lenses, contrasting with the black of the mask she had on was hiding her expression; but the almost glowing red, accompanied by the white glow darksaber flared, was more terrifying than any emotion her face could contort into. "Get up."

Third sister stammered, none of her previous vigor present. "What?"

"Get up. I see you have complaints, I want you to walk me through them."

First Brother had to do something. "Supreme Inquisitor, please overlook her childishness just this once - "

"I am not talking to you." The blood red lens of her helmet stayed focused on her target. "Sister. Take out your lightsaber and feel free to test my skills to your liking. But know this. If you do, I will treat you like as you'd like me to, and we will go at it until the end. You know our ways."

Stuck right where she was lying on the floor, her eyes momentarily met First Brother's, who mouthed, "Don't," at her behind clenched teeth without any sound.

She ended up saying, "Forgive me." The haunted look in her eyes was avoiding directly coming to contact with the Mandalorian woman. Upon the crackling silence that followed, Third Sister tried again, higher-pitched and a slight panting in her breath. "Please forgive my impudence."

"Anyone else that wants to question my credibility further?" was what Supreme Inquisitor asked, not a declaration of Third Sister's death sentence, thankfully. When she was met with silence, she turned off the darksaber, yet didn't put it away. "Anyone else that wants to stay and gossip instead of doing their jobs?"

Silence.

"Anyone else that volunteers to do as they were ordered and get rid of the holo-faker?"

Third Brother and Eleventh Brother stood straight. "We will get to it," the Miralian said shakily.

"You better."

A bottomless pit of abiding nothingness was expected to be cold, but sometimes you would think it could be a bit warmer because of the stars it was pregnant to burned with all their might.

Myriads of stars and suns, withering away and blossoming at the same second were furious in their hearts beat to the rhythm held the balance together, yet the universe remained colder than beskar still.

It was proof no star could ever be enough to warm up their home, not even the supremest of them all. And perhaps in their sorrow, they all ended up as black holes, swallowing up anything in their way to fill the hole where their burning souls once stood brightly as the hearth for the planets under their wings.

But you could never be cold. Not when even the spaceships were perpetually freezing. Your fire sang too vigorous for that. There was a furnace akin to a star at its prime nuzzled inside your ribs constantly keeping your palms unusually warm, especially when you were sent to planets with chilling climates for a mission. Your peculiarly high temperature made so you uncomfortable sometimes that you wore so little while physically training. It was unnerving for those under you that you could withstand icy environments so easily. Some even thought you were half-robot as Lord Vader and couldn't even feel physical contact anymore.

No, you experienced pain on a different reality than others did. You were sure Vader did as well, it was your fuel to the Dark Side. So much so that it was addicting at times to inflict it to other people and yourselves. You fed on it as if you were one of the Anzati preying on the life source of others to survive. It was necessary. It was vital. One could never get used to pain, but to accept it as a fundamental part of the path to the dark side had done the trick for you.

That's why you could understand why Lord Vader bit back complaints about his steel arms and legs never seeming to fit and holding him back from his full potential. They hurt him immensely, although his face in plain sight didn't even wince you could feel it; his yellow eyes didn't sour over with pain yet nevertheless, you felt it in your own body - even when he kept it from pouring into The Force itself, you felt it as if you were being hurt.

But while you didn't know what to do with it, Vader used that agony, he internalized it and brought forth an entirely different kind of might that terrified down to the bone whoever dared to cross him.

Vader always knew what to do.

But you couldn't bring yourself to tell him the things you had heard the last day. Rebellion was ringing in her ears wherever she went and whatever she did. Mand'alor.

Among other insults hurled at her, nothing had bothered her as much as nobody disagreeing with the late Third Sister. All the briefings, all the reports, all the patrols during this past couple of days were all spent on thinking about what in the hell they were talking about. You were none of the things Third Sister had claimed her to be.

You were the last remaining kin of Pre Vizsla he had adopted into the clan, wasting away in your atelier with your stupid idea of reconciling with the current government of Mandalore, daydreaming about it while fixing weapons and armor. The girl who had never been able to become a full-fledged Mandalorian smelled of oil, dust, metal, shadows, and underground, she was too weak to even talk back to her blood. She wanted to run and fly but was chained to a dustball of a rotting planet moon. She was nothing before Lord Vader had found her.

However, you couldn't forget about it. It was constantly in your head, like a damned bug crawling through the curves of your brain and scratching away at the flesh walls of the organ, it kept slamming its way right in front of your skull, pounding in her temples as a persistent headache.

Why did they call me that? Why did they say that?

Was it sarcasm? No, it couldn't have been.

It was scary how obsessed you had become with a tiny minute detail when it meant nothing at all. You had sat down and thought about what you were expecting but there wasn't anything you could grasp at. You just couldn't get it out of your mind and that was it.

So you trained. For hours and hours a day, you practiced and meditated. There was nothing else to do. You were ordered to lay low and wait at Naboo's door, no one could go anywhere, so you did the best with what you had.

There was only so much you could do in the limited area of the training ground they were spared in the main spaceship. The floating metal monsters were made for combative military purposes and not military drill ships used for education and field practice after all. If they were informed of a blockade of this kind beforehand, the preparations would be more suitable for their situation.

Therefore you ended up requiring a partner to work with, granted that training equipment was not present.

A partner, being the partner, who had always been the only opponent you had sparred against, Darth Vader of course.

Maybe you couldn't tell him what had you fearfully hypnotized for so long, but you could use him as an anchor to clear your thoughts and achieve lucidity that way. Vader was an in-and-out kind of one-man army with no distractions whatsoever and that had inspired you in your own way of handling work. Not only did straightforwardness find a new meaning in him, but you felt closer to clarity by his side as well, it gave you a refined sense of strength.

When you came together blade-to-blade instead of back-to-back, you and Vader were identical if not paralleled, one the hands and the other the legs of the same body, you were like the complementary halves of a single warrior. Vader, due to his overly bulky cybernetic limbs, moved with the power of roaring ocean waterfalls, he was unstoppable; meanwhile, you were the shadow and the wind, the sacrificed speed and mobility completing him in a different body - you appeared out of nowhere, struck, and disappeared.

Despite having the chance to spar with Vader himself after a long time spent with deeds for the empire, you didn't manage to clean her mind off the noises repeating over and over again right in the middle of your nervous system. It was reflecting on your motor and reflective abilities, you couldn't keep up with him today.

"You came here to clear your head but your mind is still distracting you," was Vader's eventual response after wiping the lusterless steel floor with your backside for the nth time.

You always got up whenever you fell, having a feline's agility and swiftness akin to lightspeed but he was not having any of it this time, it was obvious from the dismissive frown distorting his youthful face. The red glow of his lightsaber was gone in an instant.

Calling your own lightsaber back, you didn't have any difficulty in extending the Force as a limb to retrieve it whenever it had flown off to. As soon as the hilt caressed the skin of your palm, your fingers closed down on it as if you wanted the crush the useless thoughts plaguing you.

Darksaber's idiosyncratic sound was higher pitched than any other used by the Jedi and the Sith, but it had the peculiar ability to respond to its wielder's emotional state. You had noticed the erratic electrical effect pulsating like a heightened heartbeat, but you didn't want to stop due to accumulated frustration. If you were indeed a machine, there would be smoke surrounding your burning limbs from clashing with the cold atmosphere. "I can keep going."

There was no way Vader was not aware of the emotional storm raging inside of you, he even sank his hook into the tiniest of specks you went out of your way to hide, yet he was calmly observing at where he stood. "I'm not enjoying myself anymore, this is pointless. So how about you tell me what's been bothering you instead?"

Of course he goes for that, you sighed. Always straight to the point. You couldn't confront the root of her problem at hand, you didn't even know what was bothering you this much. It was obviously speculation on their part of something. The whole Inquisitorius may have been informed that way to help you assert your superiority, but you still couldn't bring yourself to at least investigate it.

You had forgotten this part of you existed at all. It had been buried deep down the seven circles of your soul where even the Force itself couldn't shed light upon it. Your weaknesses: hesitation, coyness, pudency, dastardness - your old needy self who was always pushed into the shadows. Remnants. They deserved to rot in darkness; crumble away until they were nothing but ash and dust under your feet. The old you of Clan Vizsla, who would tremble and scream and grieve in terror if she ever knew the person she would become was the infamous tyrannical Supreme Inquisitor, needed to die.

A warm campfire singing with the dancing fireflies wouldn't stand a chance against a devourer wildfire raging against the night; it just didn't work that way. You needed to kill it.

Your head twitched up when the darksaber turned off by itself. You felt Lord Vader's extended power return back to his shadow after lingering for a little while, thinning the oxygen around her by its mere presence. "You know I'm not one to waste my time."

"Too much waiting," you blurted out when it became evident if you were to stay silent, he would try to pry into your mind, he kept staring at you without moving a muscle - like he was one of the unsettling ginormous milky alabaster statues standing tall in front of the Imperial Senate Building.

Vader rarely ever did disturb the privacy of your inner world, he didn't need to, he just knew you like the inside of his palm, and you never hid anything from him either, you trusted him more than you trusted yourself.

Your obstinacy tended to keep things away from him whenever failure stamped itself right on your forehead - because you were ashamed.

But this was different. You could tell Vader had noticed as well.

You were simply very tired, the black spandex of your training wear was sticking to your skin because of the sweat and the braid you always kept long to wrap around into a circle at the back of your head so it could fit inside your helmet was a messy bird's nest. You couldn't find the strength in yourself to weave an intricate web of lies to keep Vader away from your worries, so you opted to only reveal some of the truth as you took a few steps back to wipe your forehead and the back of your neck with the towels neatly folded and laid right beside a variety of weapons ranging from target blasters to melee weapons such as techblasters.

Later on, as two black silky cloaked-figures stormed through the deck like flowing gravity-driven drops of ink to get to Vader's quarters, tearing seas of white armor and black uniforms apart as they glided along in sync, you finally voiced some of your worries but not the entire truth. Your mask caused your voice to sound artificial and monotonous enough to hide the intent behind. "Why is Naboo special? There were other planets to try the boundaries just like this before. What are we doing here?"

The man's booming steps didn't falter, he kept on power walking as he usually did. The only giveaway to his surprise was his golden gaze immediately getting drawn to your frame. "That's unusually curious of you."

"I suppose it is."

Corridors of the metal maze they were in curled in different directions as you talked, occasionally wrought with artificial white, red and blue lights blinked and streamed past you in streaks. It was all in the background, as you were only awaiting Vader's response. "The Emperor has not said anything yet. We are to stand our ground."

He was tight-lipped when it came to The Emperor. Tenuous shadows obscuring his reflection in The Force, meticulous and ten times more intimidating.

Beings with no force-sensitivity perceived it as Vader holding their necks tight in a noose, or perhaps an unsteady sword floating right above their heads. He was at his most merciless when he was escorted by The Emperor's words. It was hard for even you to speak your mind freely, not because of the fear, but because deep in your soul, you sensed a fresh, gaping wound, and it had The Emperor's handprint next to it.

Not lingering on it, you uttered your evergrowing uneasiness snowballed with the word Rebellion about the task given to them. "Lord Vader, this looks like a false cover-up for an intended invasion to me. Why else would we be here?" Your job didn't end with supervising the Inquisitorius as Darth Vader's right hand, you also participated in keeping the order in the empire. Those required having to always keep moving and never stopping in one place for too long. Even Vader couldn't stay at his castle in Mustafar to rest for more than days between the duties. The wait for something from Naboo had been unnervingly delayed. It had rightfully taken its toll on your agitated state of mind, and you thought maybe relieving herself from at least this distress might give her more control.

"No need to think about those things. We will do as we are ordered. The battlefield is our only concern." An automatic response, usually given to his inferiors. What followed after was not. "Why is this bothering you so much?"

You started speaking only when you arrived at Vader's dull grey quarters separate from the superior officers at the bridge tower, it was similar to an antechamber in emptiness and size, the only difference was the massive cell-like cut windows circling in a flat arch showing the blue-green and occasionally violet planet of Naboo. "Queen Amidala should pose no threat to him, but for some reason he doesn’t trust her now that she is not present on the Imperial Senate and is out of his reach, there’s something going on here," you pondered, taking your mask off and staring at it for a while. "It goes against the relatively peaceful route he has trekked on until now, but I don't believe we are here for another treaty."

"I was not aware of your interest in politics. This was what had you so scatterbrained you couldn't even focus on combat." Vader slowly approached the glass window closes to him and stood still, his eyes on the planet. He had his hands folded behind his back. His side profile was illuminated by the faint translucent lights of the space from where you were. "Why the sudden curiosity, have you received intel?"

"It's not like that. I‘ve just had more time than necessary to think."

"And the thing you chose to think about was the Emperor not trusting Queen Amidala?"

"I’m thinking about how a possible invasion would go. The Emperor looked for the perfect opening to do so, and now that he has it, he won't let go. It feels like the era of treaties is about to be over." After placing your mask on the table where Vader usually kept the tools he used to modify his limbs, a feeling of nakedness washed over you as you looked at the view it created, it was not the Supreme Inquisitor talking at the moment, but simply you. "But I do have a bad feeling about everything in general, I can't get it out of my mind."

"Is that what The Force tells you?"

Gloved fingers gliding on the smooth arch of the top of the inquisitor mask, you kept your gaze on the T-shaped lens. Your lashes were heavy on your eyes, the words were weighing down on your entire face so they couldn't escape you it seemed. As ironic as it was that you were covering your real troubles with half-truths, you had never been this honest about your opinions before, only ever obeying whatever Vader had asked you of. "I'm not sure. I can't distinguish my instincts from the will of The Force yet. I don't think I ever will. Precognition is beyond me, I am but a Mandalorian, physical use is the only thing I really am good at. Still, there are times in which even I can feel it physically in my head. I know we are only soldiers, I know not to concern myself but The Force is. . . weird these days. That's why I'm not dismissing these thoughts."

"Perhaps what you used to call instincts is The Force talking to you. You are still fighting the Dark Side, that's why it's constipating you like this. Let the power guide you. Don't be afraid of too much."

"I have dedicated myself to your ways for a reason, I know what I have to do. I'm just a slow learner, but I do learn. Even if I can't fulfill your expectations, I won't ever disappoint you, Lord Vader."

Tingles traveled down your spine in warm waves, Vader's stare was definitely on you. "I will look into this as well, you keep focusing on the present." Then, a soft sigh dissolved in the air, so unnoticeably gentle that it had your eyebrows pulled together in surprise. "Anything else you wish to inform me about? I still feel heavy conflict clouding your mind."

"I don't wish to bother you with insigni—"

"When I ask questions I expect them to be answered."

He had seen it. The certain worm clogging your brain. Something was pushing you to squish it back in the darkness so he would forget about it. Not knowing what it was made you try to cover it up, words you‘d kept to yourself all this time poured out like hot-flowing blood out of a raw wound. "The thing is, why would Queen Amidala make a predictable and unnecessary move such as this when she is aware of the emperor's intentions in the first place? It doesn’t make sense."

"What do you know about his intentions?" It came sharp and quick. When you let go of the mask grounding you and turned to him, Vader's stiffness and slight tenseness caught you off guard; just as he had never heard a single peep of doubt from you, you had never seen Vader defensively alarmed as well. "You're basing this all on a single assumption. According to that then, how would Queen Amidala be aware of this so-called everything?"

"I told you it was insignificant."

"No. Explain it."

Hurried steps brought you right at Vader's side, aestuous eyes of his followed your almost apologetic state. The stars were witnessing a rare occurrence that day, the ice-breathing iron dragon was reduced into a young man, simply because he allowed anxiety seep out the cracks of his persona of The Dark Lord Darth Vader. Yet, they were merely only talking. You were pulled to him like a piece of metal caught into a magnetic field, wanting to clear his face from shadows. What had him this tense was a mystery that piqued your worry as much as it did your curiosity.

"I meant absolute control when I said intentions, it wasn't something mysterious at all." You said, fighting the instinct to comb his wavy locks away from his face when you noticed his arms twitch forward towards you in a split second, stilling quickly right after that. "Queen Amidala, well at least Naboo has been cooperative and obedient so far, it is the Emperor’s home planet. It's illogical for them to make a move, without even sending a report of protest first about the Stormtrooper bases." Your voice was calculative and calm so that Vader would remain composed as well. "To be honest, every bone in my body is screaming trap at me. But I don't know what they would gain from laying a trap for us — or the empire."

A blank look.

Then a weak smile so twisted and bitter that the hairs on the back of your neck and the baby hairs framing the shape of your face stood up.

"I do," Vader said, triumphantly. Catharsis was etched into his tremulous voice, his pupils were dilated. "Have spy droids decode their hologram satellites immediately. I especially want the transcriptions of ghost calls, doesn't matter if it's from the palace or not."

At a loss for words, you couldn't catch up to his thought process but you had your orders, Vader's word came first. "Whatever we're looking for -- what if they chose to transport it manually as a message rather than transmitting it?"

"I hope they did." The smile on his face didn't reach his eyes, his tone was low and dangerous when he answered. "Then we get to use the easy way to restore the peace."

When you retired for the day, the shadows whispered all that you have been reduced to, and all you will ever be is eternal yearning chasing your tail, forever stuck in a circle, doomed to be your own destruction.

They swirled heavy and languid around where you laid folded into yourself, in your most vulnerable state —— closest to the ghost of the girl fron Clan Vizsla, the girl with tender flames that couldn't and wouldn't burn. They pooled in the hollow of your stomach, filled your womb with molten tar, and blotted your veins; until you became nothing but a vague shape in the dark.

The moderately average resting chamber in the giant Star Destroyer closed in on the you, only armored with a thin layer of sweat covering your heated skin. Darkness was a place you were your most comfortable in, but shadows drowning you were the servants of light —— the light that flowered from the warmest, the most cowardly of fires that was afraid to burn people.

"Remember," the shadows murmured. The smell of beskar and ash was sticky on the wall of your nose, thickly dropping down to the lungs. Within the withering clouds of duskiness, two little marbles with the color of abysmal space stared back, the tiniest of shine reflecting like miniature novae. Black eyes like obsidian. "As no star is enough to light up the galaxy. As no star is enough to warm up its home. Remember who you are."

Supreme Inquisitor killed that treacherous girl every single night, but shadows were immortal nonetheless, you couldn't possibly reign victorious over them. The girl of Clan Vizsla, aware of that mostly overlooked knowledge, had always hidden her essence in the shadows; and now even her biggest nemesis was unable to snuff out the weak embers left of her. The ashes somehow managed to rekindle their spark.

The girl just refused to die and turned herself into invisible heavy shackles on your ankles.

Shadows caught up to you in oddest circumstances these days. Contrary to Imperial Officers and most of the Inquisitorius like the fallen Grand Inquisitor, respect out of obligation and orders did not sit well with you, you enjoyed proving yourself someone to be dreaded over and over again just to smell the satisfying presence of horror, yet sometimes you (momentarily) felt unaccomplished when people couldn't look you in the eye as they spoke.

The Mandalorian in you wanted to earn respect instead of forcing it out of somebody —— annoying, really, it was like an itch right in the middle of your back where you couldn't reach to scratch, and it never went away either. No matter what you did, you couldn't get rid of the leaden disappointment and dejection shooting up your spine at the sight of forehead-on-the-floor submission even if it lasted shorter than a blink.

The moment of humanity made you sick. You enjoyed being feared and bowed to, that meant you were stronger than them, that you were better, yet the tiny itch made it seem like you were some kind of noble character deep down when your aim, in the end, was establishing strength and demanding respect in exchange —— not honorably gaining it through charity work.

That's why you were feeling grumpy at yourself as you left First Brother behind in hurried steps after the report given to you in trembling fingers hid behind his waist in a grip, and a voice strained to control a slight shakiness. The Miralian was covered with a thin layer of sweat across his pink skin, the purple diamonds etched onto his nose area almost appeared a dark ultramarine as he stood with an imaginary walking stick shoved down his throat, he didn't move from his position until Supreme Inquisitor had completely disappeared from his sight.

He was your favorite Inquisitor to work with, mainly because he knew respect. You knew it was a Jedi habit, but you were in no place to complain about it, only focused on getting results and finally, your patience was rewarded —— not even the annoyance at your prolonged unstable emotions could get in the way of your enthusiasm. They were one step closer to ending this blockade and you were itching to return to your routine of hunting Jedi and getting rid of this mess of a state of mind. Things would soon return to the way they were. They had to.

With that in mind, you all but rushed to deliver the news to Vader, practically running to the safety of an end goal having formed in your mind. He was receiving some kind of report in the bridge part of the Star Destroyer, but immediately dismissed the two officers when he saw you approaching him with hurried steps. The T-shaped visor of her matte black helmet was reflecting light like flashes due to your speed.

Vader had the tendency to have conversations with you alone, even when you absolutely had to be in public he would maneuver to the most isolated place where they could speak privately, and his utter discontent at people coming at their way would immediately have effect in making them go the opposite way. If he was just done with having to deal with Imperial Officers and saw you as an escape, you did not know.

"It's done, Lord Vader," You reported with a datapad in your right gloved hand, the other was clutching the hilt of darksaber tucked away in your belt as you retreated to the giant windows looking directly at Naboo. Crowds would part at the sight of you together, as if leaving you to your solitude was a rule, so nobody was in the perimeter to hear the conversation. "Spy droids are on the job right now. The decryptor team is simultaneously working with incoming data. The droids can only do so much, so for the sake of both speed and efficiency, the only solution I had was this."

You handed him the datapad, his yellow eyes were dull as he scanned the incoming information. "Nothing looks particularly off as of now."

"I told them to look out for suspicious behavior as well. Could be a part of their cipher system."

"I would rather have direct contact with the senator, per protocol." Vader's hawk-like gaze turned almost condescendingly to the mostly purple planet as if he could spot the object of their conversation right away. The corners of his lips twitched upwards for a millisecond. "Compared to the queen, he is surprisingly easier to crack."

He peculiarly allowed himself to be human around her, occasional boyish grins and smirks found their way to his face often when you were near. It wasn't a first-time realization but very much a reassurance every time it occured. The thought, this time also as well, managed to ease your overheated mind and you allowed herself to relax a bit, removed your hand from darksaber, and clutched them on the back of your waist. "Which is why Queen Amidala insists on being the mediator."

A scoff came from him. "She knows even the person they chose has certain weaknesses."

A wave of bitter taste washed over your mouth. "We do have to wait for Emperor Palpatine's orders about entering their planetary space. . . to exploit those weaknesses."

"I don't need to be right in front of him to do that."

He was capable of doing unspeakable things to people deeming they were safe from him just because they were seperated by monitors and screens, there was nothing surprising about his ominous declaration. Yet, something akin to an irritating feeling peeling away from your skin and an itching weight being lifted off of your gut made you blink strongly. You had to swallow because inside of your mouth felt like you had just stuffed a handful of sand down your throat. Of course. This was it. This was why Inquisitorius had to be here. How could you have been so oblivious?

"How inconvenient," you said, fully turning to him sharply. An excitement that would put the one you felt when you got the report from First Brother to shame was pulsating in your temples and ears. "It would have been better to have the excuse to see him directly."

Vader's eyebrows twitched downwards slightly. He must've had noted the change in your demeanor. "Why?"

"Because I just figured out why we're here." Your hands jerked to point at Naboo. It was clear as day to you now. You were so buried in your own mind to see what was right in front of you! "To give The Emperor an excuse for the order. This is our mission."

Vader, contemplating your discovery, hummed before speaking. He didn't look baffled at all. "You're saying this is an investigation."

"Disguised as an embargo." You nodded. Even the voice warping planted in your helmet could hide your emotions. You were more than happy to push all of your turmoil this far on this reason alone. "I can't believe I figured it out so late.“

"You weren't supposed to figure anything out." Vader, opposed to you, was very discontent with your state and you had failed to notice it from how his eyes had narrowed before he spoke. "Our input in political matters is not needed. It isn't our place."

In this light, he almost looked like he was leering down at you and that made your heart jump to your throat. Maybe you shouldn't have expressed your mind so openly like this. You weren’t one to mix personal opinions with orders in the first place. This... The chaos you were in as of late had made you slip up. You had had done your best to remain as a blank slate while putting only your lord's agenda and wishes before anything, and it truly was the only thing you cared about — that you should have cared about.

You had to pull yourself together.

"I apologize," you said, now more focused and professional to show you didn't mean any disobedience by your words. "Of course I will follow only orders, Lord Vader. I haven't forgotten my place."

That earned you an unexpected tut. "That's not——" He shut his mouth with an audible click coming from how hard his teeth had snapped together. Your eyebrows, not visible from your helmet, shot upwards at Vader's incomplete sentence. The Dark Lord of the Sith would have never held his tongue back in any occasion and he never entertained idle chit-chat, yet. . . He had briefly lost control there. He did manage to school his tone back into place, but you were already too shocked. "Just remember we will only do what is necessary. The Emperor always has a higher purpose we're not meant to know."

You had forgotten you were surrounded by the crew of the bridge, the mention of The Emperor brought back some clarity to you, as the rehearsed words of self-evaluation slipped past your lips. You had autopiloted into a submissive soldier stance. "I see now that lack of clearance has got the best of me. I meddled in matters simply not my business at all."

You didn't dare to look up at him, too immersed in trying not to spark his anger. Direct defiance was never your intention and deep down, you were already ruthlessly scolding yourself for it. You should have never opened your mouth. That's right. You were never supposed to open your mouth ever. You would only be good to go when you listened and followed orders. Opinions and thoughts were not welcome. Not that you had problems with them in the first place, but you did have to teach yourself again.

You hadn't noticed Vader's silence and his golden gaze scanning you up and down as if you were a book to read, it only became apparent to you when he started speaking again, his voice was heavy and gravelly. "This kind of thing will put a target sign on your head. You must stay out of The Emperor's sight, I will handle everything. All you have to do is follow orders."

This was the perfect chance to both change the subject and deliver the other updates you got from earlier, and you took it. He would be displeased because of the delay, but you couldn't skip on your duty either, it was with heavy heart that you gave him the news. "Speaking of orders, First Brother reported to me before our meeting. The holo-faker will be dealt with shortly. They are working on locating her."

"You mean to say she’s not dead yet?" As expected, sourness had immediately settled on his face.

"Unfortunately."

"Shortly doesn't cut it. You and I both know these adverbs only exist to buy more time." An exasperated huff, like burning steam on your skin, cut his sentence. His artificial hand's fingers had started flexing and you knew from this that his first instinct in handling this was violence - and rightfully so. If it was up to you without any interventions, the holo-faker would have been dead for the seventh time now. "Who is this holo-faker, why is it taking so long? We have more pressing matters at hand."

Your chest swelled up with the acidic breath she took in for that answer. "Her name is Bo-Katan Kryze——"

"What?" His blaster shot of an interruption was almost high-pitched and even further, your heart rate picked up because of how Vader's normally controlled Force presence had crackled like a sudden whip lash against the air. "Repeat that name."

The way he said that was stone cold and had sunk on your chest as dead weight.

"Bo-Katan Kryze." It was too hard to keep your voice in a flat tone, so it appeared very tense in return. He can misunderstand, you thought to yourself, and fumbling words pushed through your filter without warning. A loss of control on your part, no matter the form it took. "A Mandalorian like me, I know. However, my judgment is not affected. I will have her eliminated."

"We will speak no more of this here. Come."

Everything happened in a flash. His unwarranted, lightning anger blended in with their literal teleportation to the official meeting chambers reserved for the inquisitor team aboard the ship. It was like you had been wounded, but the adrenaline and shock holding your body together was holding the pain back.

You had killed fellow Mandalorian kin before. You did it every time one cane to take darksaber away from you for honor. Vader knew you didn't hold any affection or lingering attachment to your roots. Your only relief would be accepting you were uninformed, or simply not smart enough to understand what had him angered like a dragon preparing to wreak havoc over his gold hoard having been barely disturbed by an outsider.

After the sliding metal door closed behind them and trapped you in a dimly steel, ever-shrinking room due to his sizzling Force presence, with only a giant holotable to display maps in the middle, his heaving back slowly regained back a stable breathing rhythm, and he turned to you much more composed, the powerwalk they had here probably having taken some of his bottled up agitation. "Did you have an audience with her?" he said, the sentence more of a domineering demand than a question. There was a distant fire in his eyes.

You did your best to remain calm to not provoke him in any way, and obeyed. "Yes, it was required."

"Did you speak with her directly?"

"Yes, since I had the recordings of the Jedi had to deliver them personally." One of your canines caught the inside corner of your mouth. "Is something wrong——"

He ignored your remark. "Has she said anything to you?"

Have I failed? How have I failed? Why am I being interrogated right now? "Apart from business, no."

"That can’t be it. Are you lying to me?"

That sentence was straight up a punch to your ribcage, you were breathless as you answered that question. "No."

But that did not satisfy him. He was a predator pacing left and right upon hearing it. The lampdisks were full on and the meeting room eerily bright, but his darkening presence was casting a shadow over everything. "Out of all the beings in the galaxy, how did she end up being——" He was mumbling to himself in a mildly manic state, and when he suddenly shouted, the already panicking you almost jumped out of your skin. "Damn it!"

Vader's entire self-control was gone like the wind, a catastrophic hurricane in the Force is what he was. Rumbling and roaring with no restraint, no restraint. It made your hands tremble uncontrollably and sucked the strength from your core entirely. And all it took for the leash to snap was not The Emperor, not the missions, not the imperial officers and not the incompetent inquisitors, but a single name of an insignificant Mandalorian holo-faker.

You had to fix this somehow. You had to do something. You didn't understand your mistake but you had to put enough effort to get back on your feet. "Lord Vader, I don't follow——"

"Don't call me that!" You had never heard him yell before. Always the silent and obscure, actions-over-words commander that he was, Lord Vader did never need to raise his voice to get what he wanted, he simply didn't bother with that. Yet that was a broken shout at the top of his lungs; a shattered clap of thunder, yet it was a piercing shriek of a wounded animal enough to make your ears go numb for few seconds. Bleeding. A cascade of emotions were bleeding out of him.

Silence fell between you like the hammer of a giant.

Your insides churned and twisted and crushed until all you could feel was just a mash of mixed goop flesh filling you like cotton and only a void in the middle of your skull, as if you had jumped out of hyperdrive with a damaged deceleration equalizer.

A shiver shook your shoulders.

There was a man in front of you, not Lord Vader, and certainly not a Lord of the Sith. An upset, disturbed and disordered hot mess of a young man, with eyes the color of cold dark blue before the sun appears in the horizon, swimming in the agony of an entire sunken star, was despairing over his subordinate addressing him as the superior he was.

What did he want from you exactly? How did you end up in a conversation webbed with lines that should never be crossed?

"Call all the inquisitors involved in the operation and leave us."

"As you wish." You kept your voice carefully blank and monotone, but the emotions were as scattered as a star cluster. Despite that, as Supreme Inquisitor, your instincts knew the need for professionalism to be restored back, but it was actually cowardice that made you lean entirely on respect to gain much needed stable ground. "Do you want me to send out a scouting team to find out if she has reached Mandalore? They could look for a way to cheat the treaty."

"No. You're off the holo-faker case."

It was a small command, a simple order, a rightful decision really, but that still felt like stun blasts exploding inside your brain that left it ringing and the room spinning around you. "Why? I can fix everything, I can go personally——"

"No." To your own ears, to your heart, the voice that came from his lips didn't sound like his own. It was deeper, darker, clipped and oiled, resonating from the depths of the Dark Side he tapped into whenever he was facing enemies and allies alike. It didn't sound like him at all, he didn't direct that tone —— that stance to you ever, and it smoked with fury. "You'll remain here with me."

You stood welded to the floor, motionless. You weren’t even truly aware of speaking. It was as if someone else were using your mouth. "I have met her face to face, I'll get it done faster, let me go to Mandalore——"

"I said no! That's an order!"

A hiccupping gasp rose out of you that the mask didn’t pick up.

And, now, finally, you recognized the voice that had came out of you in utter desperation.

It belonged to the shadows. It belonged to gentle melodies of the benevolent hearth. It belonged to the girl who was afraid of being cast away.

You could only stand there, sick at heart, stunned with helplessness, the fatigue in your guts turning heavier and heavier.

". . . Understood."

Lord Vader passed his flesh hand over his eyes and drew a long, heavy breath. In a much lower, calmer, quieter tone, he said, "You won't get involved with her. Promise me." He looked thoroughly miserable, but you felt too numb, so numb that you were looking at the world behind iced glass. It stung even to stand here.

"I have received your orders.” Your lips, conditioned only to speak of duty, fulfilled their responsibility. "I'm calling the inquisitors immediately."

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