Work Text:
You have won everything.
And yet.
And yet as you stand bloody and triumphant above the molten battleground of Mustafar you realize victory has settled like ashes in your throat.
For a moment you let yourself truly look at the corpse beside you that used to be Obi-Wan Kenobi and for the briefest of moments you think my friend is dead. It is not easy to feel elation over the death of an enemy when you used to love that enemy, and call them brother. You quickly quell the prick of regret in your gut before it has time to grow.
When you see Padme, her once sparkling gaze emptied of life, that regret becomes a sharp knife, threatening to devour you. You call upon the darkness and it obliges, wrapping around your heart like a cold shield. You force yourself to feel nothing as you step over her body and take her ship.
You return to Sidious and kneel as he congratulates you. You tilt your head to stare in curiosity into his ruined visage; you wonder how you or any Jedi was ever fooled by his Palpatine mask. The creature you see before you is a black hole in the Force- you reach out but feel nothing inside him save for a crushing dark emptiness, and a primal desire to consume. Sidious wants and Sidious takes, and now Sidious has you.
The cold floor is uncomfortable against your knees and you rise. In a sudden, deft motion you have decapitated him, and you allow yourself to be surprised that he does has something underneath the skin after all.
His fledgling Empire becomes yours overnight. The clones are dutiful to you through merit of their programming and the senate would believe any tale you spun. They all adored the great war hero, Anakin Skywalker, and that is the mask you wear when you address them. In truth you have killed Anakin Skywalker, and you have killed Padme, and you have killed Kenobi, and you have killed Sidious, and you will go on to kill so many Jedi and so many others. You are Darth Vader, and all fall before you. The Jedi and Sith both crumbled into nothing because of you, and in their destruction you have tipped the scales. A measure of balance is restored to the galaxy.
The prisoner thrashes wildly against her bonds as you watch, impassive. Her tears and pleading eyes do nothing to thaw your heart, the darkness keeps you cold and distant as always. Yet there is a quality to her you still enjoy, and you find you feel more whole in her presence.
Do not fight me, Ahsoka.
But, it is in her nature to fight. You have seen to that.
She resists your mind probes and your attempts to seduce her to the dark side, she spits at you at calls you a tyrant and a killer. You smile at her spirit. You try to feed her anger, but the more you attempt to tear her from the light, the more desperately she grips to it.
She says she is not a Jedi, and you wonder how she believes this lie. She shines brighter than most Jedi ever will, she is radiant in the light, so much so that it hurts to be in her presence. It is akin to looking too long at the sun.
Perhaps it is because you hate yourself that you force yourself to be so close. One day you come to her cell and release her from her chains. You press a hard kiss to Ahsoka’s lips as if trying to wrest some secondhand warmth from her. With a soft sigh she obliges you, and you feel her yearning build between her hips. You trail kisses down her neck and let your lips linger on her breasts. She shudders out your old name and you abruptly pull away. This pleasure leaves you hollow, it is just a reminder of what you have lost (sacrified).
When you realize (let yourself admit) she will never be broken enough to be remade as your apprentice, you have her killed. There is a part of you that hopes her end was quick. You wonder if that faint pang in your chest is sadness.
But you are Darth Vader, the hero killer, the chosen one. You are the single most powerful man in the galaxy, and thousands of star systems belong to you alone. The senate is your puppet, and the clones are your instruments of death. You have never before felt the Force so acutely, nor had such precise mastery over it. It is as if the galaxy itself is yours to command.
And yet.
Power this great always comes with a cost, and the price of yours was the inability to savor your victory. You are unable to enjoy the spoils of your power, for you killed your passion when you killed Anakin Skywalker. It was his lust for life that drove him, and without it you find your heart as empty and icy as the void. You are astute enough to realize you did not truly win that conflict on Mustafar.
And yet.
None of that matters. You are Darth Vader, Emperor of the galaxy. And all will fall before your might.