The Contingency Part II: Civil War Chapter 1, a star wars fanfic

!WARNING!

This is a continuation of my story, The Contingency: A Star Wars Story. If you do not read that first, you will be lost.

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A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...

STAR WARS

The Contingency Part II:

Civil War

The Empire is fractured. It's leader, Galactic Emperor Darth Vader uses his deadly First Order Navy to tighten his grip around the Galaxy and secure his control after the crushing defeat of Gallius Rax and the majority of the Shadow Council's forces. But faith in his rule has wavered as reports of his brutal methods reach the ears of the Senate.

Believing Lord Vader has lost his ability to provide safety for the Empire following the Shadow Council's betrayal, many systems have already pledged their allegiances to the Rebel Alliance. And those systems have been targeted by the unforgiving First Order Navy.

In the wake of Lord Starkiller's death, Lord Vader is left without his enforcer. He searches to find a suitable replacement to lead his armies but with Imperial Prince Luke Skywalker missing in action, his choices are limited.

Forced to act as Emperor and Supreme Commander, Lord Vader and his fleet; The Crimson Armada prepare to wage war against the remaining Shadow Council fleet and the rapidly growing threat of the emboldened Rebel Alliance...

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Chapter 1: Failures of the Past

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Alliance Cruiser Home One

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"All squadrons report in." A particularly accented, commanding voice ordered. In usual situations, none would have trouble hearing the Rebellion Admiral speak, but with the silence that had descended upon the bridge of Home One, there was no question.

Admiral Gial Ackbar waited for his request to reach the comms of his accompanying fleet squadrons.

"Red Squadron standing by."

"Gold Squadron standing by."

"Blue Squadron standing by."

"Black Squadron standing by."

"Phoenix Squadron standing by."

Admiral Ackbar felt his heart race as the Rebel Fleet neared their destination. The tunnel of hyperspace was, for once, a welcomed sight. He only hoped there was some sort of light at the end of it.

The planet NaJedha was home to an Imperial Shipyard where the Alliance would encounter their very first Super Star Destroyer in open battle. It was protected by a fleet belonging to Darth Vader's new First Order Navy.

They had scrutinized what designs were still uncorrupted from the data they'd received, analysts were sure the Alliance had a chance. And a good one at that. Though in the back of his mind, the Admiral couldn't help but wonder if he'd made a grave mistake.

A console beeped loudly. Ackbar swiveled in his chair and his eyes rested on the hyperspace route mapped on a screen in front of him.

Any moment now...

Tension built unbearably.

"Exiting hyperspace."

In an instant, the stars smeared out of the tunnel. The fleet came into view.

"By the Force..."

The sight was both incredible and terrifying. No amount of specifications or even speculation could prepare the Rebels for the real thing. The Super Star Destroyer was as the Mon Calamarian Admiral feared; a carbon copy of Vader's Executor; a ship the Rebels stayed far, far away from. Few had even seen it in person and lived to tell about it. Beyond that, the accompaniment only added to the fleet's terror. Two large Mandator III-class dreadnoughts and five Reaver-class battlecruisers, design based off of Imperial-class Star Destroyers, only twice as large. The Mandator III's almost tripled the size of of the battlecruisers and the Super Star Destroyer... well, it could house the Home One in a hangar if it wanted to.

Just like the data stated.

Project Arbitrator.

There was no room for backing down now. "Attack formation! Focus fire on those dreadnoughts!" Ackbar ordered. "All cruisers move in! They won't fire those autocannons at close range!"

"Enemy fighters incoming!" One pilot informed.

"Lock S-foils in attack position!"

Hordes of TIE fighters rushed out of their ships, the X-wings opened their foils and engaged.

"We've caught them off guard!"

Relief actually flooded the Admiral at that news. Though he did feel some sort of concern with just how quickly their TIE fighters were deployed.

MC-80 cruisers quickly flew toward the First Order fleet, Hammerhead and Corellian Corvettes in front, a fleet of X-Wings, A-Wings, Y-Wings and Phoenix squad's Ghost leading.

"Battlecruiser locked on." An Officer informed.

"Angle our deflector shields!" Ackbar ordered. "Phoenix squad! Take out those autocannons!"

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"Copy that, Admiral. We're on it." Captain Hera Syndulla gripped the controls of her now iconic freighter, jamming buttons on the console. "Attack formation, we need to clear a path for the Blade Wing." Pheonix squad's A-wings formed behind her. A squad of TIE fighters came right at her, emerald lasers blasting out. Almost instantly, two A-wings spun out in flames.

"They're looping back around." Hera scowled. "Spectre 6, take out those fighters!" She yanked the ship sideways as to pass between the offending ships laser blasts. The Ghost rocked violently.

"I'm trying! These ones are way faster than Imperial TIE's!" Ezra Bridger called back from the gunner position.

"He's right." Kanan said beside Hera, a mask covered the upper half of his face. The Force screeched in warning. "Watch it!" Kanan braced himself.

The Ghost jerked to the left, a surface cannon shot from the closest Mandator III dreadnought only barely missing. Hera exhaled a breath. "Too close. I'm in position, take out those surface cannons. I'll draw their fire, but make it quick!"

"Copy that, Spectre 2." The A-wings broke off, blasting through a small squad of TIE fighters. Hera squinted as the Ghost soared through the flaming wreckage.

The freighter spun, diving toward the dreadnought. Several pockets of bright explosions erupted along it's surface as the rest of Phoenix Squadron took aim at the cannons.

Hera pulled her attention away. "Kanan, we're locked on. Take it out." She skillfully twisted and passed through two approaching fighters. "Now!"

"Got it." Kanan grabbed onto the forward cannon's controls, but the console suddenly blared.

"Missiles!" Hera spun the ship, dipping low and scaling the surface of the dreadnought. Behind, an A-wing erupted in with a powerful shock. Debris slapped against the hull of the Ghost and the shockwave shook the ship. Hera grunted as she weaved through the surface cannon's fire, just hoping a shot would hit one of the two torpedoes quickly gaining on her. "Ezra!"

"I can't get a lock with you flying like this!"

"So I should eat a turbolaser so you can get a clear lock." She dryly said.

Kanan suddenly pointed. "There."

Hera glanced toward the cannon her co-pilot was pointing at, silently wondering how he... saw it. But if there was anything she'd learned in the years prior, it was to trust Kanan's instincts.

The freighter swerved and shot forward, right at the turret. It weaved and rocked back and forth as Hera predicted the attack pattern and avoided it masterfully. "What's your plan Kanan?"

"Just trust me." The Jedi Knight cryptically replied. "Chopper, get ready to push all engine power to the thrusters."

The old droid whirred in response.

"Well I didn't ask if it was a bad idea, just do it." Kanan turned to Hera. "When I give the signal, punch the thrusters."

Hera took a deep breath to calm herself. "If you say so..."

"Hera. Just trust me." His hand squeezed her shoulder gently.

The ship neared the cannon, and it was getting harder and harder for her to avoid shots. One clipped the shields, forcing the Ghost sideways, scraping the port side wing along the dreadnought's surface in a flash of thick sparks and taking the gun mounted there with it. The ship sounded to alert them. "Port side turret's gone! That's a lot of firepower lost." She informed while she now struggled to avoid taking another hit. "Kanan!?" Hera's nerves threatened her concentration as an obvious collision course was bound to destroy them. "Kanan!"

"Now!"

Hera punched the thrusters.

The Ghost suddenly jolted up and over one of the cannons.

One missile smashed into it in a brilliant explosion. But the other one cleared it easily.

Chopper re-routed the power back to the engines and shields.

"Nice trick and all, but did you have a plan for the second one?"

"I was kinda hoping that would take care of them both." Kanan rubbed his neck for a brief moment.

Hera rolled her eyes. "Ezra, you need to take out that last missile."

"It's too small, the computer can't get a lock on it!"

"Ezra, calm yourself." Kanan instructed. "You don't need the targeting computer. Use the Force."

The last missile blazed closer and closer. Sweat dropped off of Hera's nose, her hands were white-knuckled around the controls.

And then, a fiery explosion consumed the ship.

The Ghost soared out of the smoke and fire.

Hera whooped loudly with a huge smile. "Great shot! I knew I taught you well." Hera cheered. "Two left. Phantom Squad, regroup and target the point defense turrets! We only need the first four on each side to clear the path!"

"We're on it Captain Syndulla!"

Kanan's brow furrowed as enemy fighters broke off in small groups to chase down the A-wings. "They're too strong in squads. We need to break their formation apart before we head for those turrets."

As the words came out of his mouth, two of the TIE's collided out in a fiery crash. Hera smiled as a formation of X-wings came in behind the Ghost. "We've got you covered Captain."

The Ghost strafed alongside the dreadnought while Kanan picked off the turrets with the help of Wedge's X-wings.

"You have my thanks, Wedge." Hera once more punched in some commands on the panel. "Alright. Path is clear. You ready to launch Spectre 5?"

"Blade Wing armed and ready." Sabine assured.

"No need to worry about us. We'll smash any lingering fighters to pieces!" Zeb called out.

"Zeb, that ship has one weapon. Do no fire on anything that isn't an autocannon."

The Lasaat grumbled. "Aww just one gun? What kind of fighter is this?"

"The best chance we have." Hera replied, though more to herself.

"Why does she get to have all the fun?"

"Because I'm the better pilot." Sabine jabbed.

Ezra huffed through the comms. "If by 'better' you mean better at almost getting us all killed..."

"Cut the chatter." Hera said. "Alright, Spectre 5. You're clear. All squads, attack pattern palleon. Go straight for the second dreadnought." The Ghost, Phoenix Squadron and the X-wings pulled away from the dreadnought. "Wedge, cover the Blade Wing."

"Copy." The X-wings slowed their pace. Behind them, the prized Prototype B6 came in pace with Wedge and the X-wings. The tight formation skillfully evaded fire and returned with all the years of experienced piloting showcased brilliantly.

"In position." Sabine called out.

Hera was tempted to watch, but duty prevented it. "Fire when ready, Spectre 5"

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It was surprising to see such coordination from the Rebels. Each time Grand Moff Randd had faced them, they were so scattered; relying solely on improvisation and unpredictability. Though, often enough, the hulking Moff would adapt and win. He'd do his teacher; Grand Admiral Thrawn a grave injustice if he lost to such... pitiful tactics.

Randd's eyes narrowed. He could only watch, helpless to prevent the rather infamous Blade Wing fire it's bright, red beam right into the orbital autocannons on the Scepter. The destructive power of just a single fighter was impressive. Fire spewed out from beneath the Scepter, followed quickly by another towering explosion erupting from it's topside. He could only assume the bridge had been destroyed.

"The Scepter has been disabled!"

Randd internalized his impatient growl. It was almost as if the Arbitrator's Captain; Valline Traech was incapable of noticing the most obvious destruction directly in front of Randd. "Thank you, Captain, for your invaluable contribution." The large Moff turned, a scowl set on his strong, squared face.

Captain Traech gulped at the deadly glare of the dark skinned behemoth of a man who looked like he could lift Traech up by his neck with one hand and throw him across the bridge. He was almost as terrifying as the late Lord Starkiller.

Almost.

"Sir, the Rebel cruisers are closing quickly. At this range, Captain Grates cant fire the autocannons without risking damage to the fleet."

Randd turned back toward the battle, watching the MC-80 cruisers approaching.

Embarrassing as the admission was, Randd had to think of the consequences should he lose the Arbitrator. The surprise attack by the Rebels was bold to say the least. They successfully pulled off a surprise attack and took a page right out of the Empire's handbook.

Defeat was imminent. They had too much knowledge - somehow - of this fleet's capabilities and limitations.

Randd swallowed his pride. "Lieutenant: order Captain Grates to move the Lance forty-five degrees starboard rotation and prime the autocannons."

Both the Lieutenant and Captain Traech hesitated. Randd was going to fire anyways...?

"Were my orders unclear, Lieutenant?" Randd's deep voice lowered threateningly.

"Uh- no, Sir..." He quickly relayed the orders.

"Rotate the Intent seventeen degrees port side and the Hellion twelve degrees starboard; tell them to leave four-hundred kilometer gap between their sterns... and then abandon ship." Randd clasped his hands behind his back, watching the two Reaver battlecruisers form somewhat of an arrow shape. The Mandator III dreadnaught positioned it's starboard side facing the Rebel fleet with the Arbitrator's sharp stern aimed at the gap between the two Reavers, hovering over the dreadnought. "Prepare for lightspeed, Captain."

A lightbulb flickered on in Traech's mind. The autocannons were never going to fire the cannons, but the Rebel fleet would part and make a gap for the Arbitrator to escape while the Scepter blasted off in a different direction. Any lucky battlecruisers had their contingency orders, but Randd was willing to sacrifice them. An unfortunate loss, but perhaps a necessary one.

"Rebel fighters incoming!" The Lieutenant yelled.

"They'll try to take out the surface cannons." Randd said. Rebels were so predictable, even when they tried to be unpredictable. "Inform Captain Grates to prep for lightspeed. Contingency protocol one. I want the Grand Admiral informed that NahJedha is lost." For now, Randd added mentally.

"Right away, Sir!"

Randd noted the power readouts from Captain Grates' dreadnought. He kept his eyes on the Rebels' capitol ship destroyer; that irritant of a ship called the Blade Wing. "All fighters: swarm that B6. Do not let it get close to us."

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"Evasive maneuvers!" Admiral Ackbar shouted desperately. Despite their planning, Phoenix Squad wouldn't make it in time to destroy the last autocannon; not with the swarm of TIE fighters blocking it's path. In the back of Ackbar's mind, he knew he'd been outmaneuvered this time. He couldn't risk being hit by a single one of those devastating shots, but he knew it was only for the Arbitrator to escape.

The Rebellion's capitol ships parted as the dreadnought's autocannons prepped to fire. Ackbar gave the commander of that ship the gap he needed to make the jump.

Ackbar felt defeated as he watched the battlecruisers deploy escape pods and transports that blasted into hyperspace in every direction. But perhaps it was a favorable outcome. The salvage they'd receive from both the abandoned fleet and the shipyard was more than enough to allow a handful of ships to escape.

His pride was further battered when the dreadnought suddenly disappeared.

"They never planned to fire..." He muttered to himself. He felt like punching something but settled for squeezing his armrest tight as he could.

The Arbitrator blasted into hyperspace between the gap, rocking Home One in the process.

"I'm sorry, Admiral." Hera said. "We underestimated them this time."

"Don't be. This is still a victory!" Behind the Admiral was an inspiring moment of cheering.

"Showed the Galaxy that invincible Darth Vader's new army is not." Master Yoda - who'd been silent in respect for Ackbar's command chimed in from behind. "A victory, this is. And with minor losses."

"The battle isn't over, Rebels." Ackbar reminded. "Clean up those fighters so we can salvage the wreckage."

"Copy that, Admiral!"

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Tattooine

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Obi Wan Kenobi could still remember the first time he stepped foot on this barren, desert planet almost forty years ago. Ironically, Tattooine reminded the Jedi Master of a simpler time. Despite having actually lived there for all of three years, a feeling of nostalgia accompanied the view of the seemingly endless dunes of sand extending past even the horizon. Back when the Jedi Order was at the peak of it's power, when there were no Sith, there was no Empire and his biggest dilemma was a trade dispute on Naboo.

He'd been annoyed when he first learned of Qui Gon Jinn's fascination with Anakin. Jealous, even. He couldn't help but feel he'd been replaced and it hurt to know that it happened so quickly. But the Force had a funny way of stitching together destinies. Back then, if somebody told him he'd be actually training the "pathetic life form", only for Anakin to betray him, slaughter his kind and become anything but a "pathetic life form", he would've scoffed in his arrogance.

Tattooine should be a bitter reminder of his failures. From Anakin to Luke... to the young man and the woman he entrusted the younger Skywalker to. To this day, Obi Wan was still stunned at how suddenly Vader shown up after finding out of his son's survival. The Jedi Master had been far too late to stop him from killing Owen and Beru Lars.

The same way he'd been far too late to stop Anakin from turning... to stop him from taking Leia.

His failures were spectacular. But he'd never felt so driven to rectify at least the last of them. He was angry, and he masterfully turned that anger into fiery determination to save the last hope of the Galaxy.

Seated on an extension attached to the bland walls of the house he'd lived in for such a short time, Obi Wan Kenobi ran his hand across his beard, which was now more gray than the light brown it used to be. After weeks of traveling, chasing leads in search of a man he only hoped could actually smuggle him into... wherever it was Leia was at now. His target was close, he could feel it.

A mechanical whirr broke his thoughts.

"Master Kenobi, I must say, this is hardly a suitable place for proper living." C-3PO stiffly hobbled into the living area. "I've searched the entire structure for the proper sustenance needed for your survival and have found nothing suitable for human consumption."

Obi Wan found himself giving the odd droid a small smile after actually letting him finish a rant that nobody had the patience to put up with. "As much as I appreciate the concern, we'll not be staying here for long." He pushed himself up, cursing old age and his achy bones. "The pilot is nearby."

"Oh! That's wonderful news!" Threepio rose his hands in elation. "I suggest we make way immediately. There's no telling what sort of dreadful creatures hunt in the night time."

"Indeed we should." Obi Wan pat the droid's shoulder as he walked by, picking up a brown, leather pack off of the table. "Come. Our destination is home to the worst criminals. Arguably worse creatures than the ones in the desert. It is best we find him before the sun sets."

Threepio glanced at the back of the Jedi Master's head and somehow managed to look frightened and exasperated despite his unmoving face. "I'm beginning to think you enjoy the criminal underworld."

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Mos Eisley. A wretched hive of scum and villainy.

The mid-day suns beat down on Obi Wan, making even the controls for his speeder almost too hot to touch. The city was bustling with activity as business owners ran their shops, locals did their shopping, moisture farmers traveled to town to sell their harvest - all of them desperately trying to avoid the various thugs patrolling the sandy streets in search of trouble. Obi Wan was masterful at blending in, it was the shiny, golden protocol droid that had him worried. A dark robe only hid so much gold.

The cantina was Ben's first stop. Parking the speeder outside, he had 3PO wait for his return. Unlike the cantina on Takodana, these thieves and killers didn't have the queen of pirates to keep them in line. In this place, murder was just another day in Mos Eisley cantina. Obi Wan tread carefully, using his mastery in the Force to passively keep people uninterested in his presence. He searched the bar for someone who's mind was easily manipulated, finding a rather harmless looking Gran stumbling away from the bar back to his table alone. He made way for the drunk fellow, standing in his path. The Gran unsteadily bumped into Obi Wan, spilling his drink all over the floor.

Ben caught the alien before he hit the ground. "Woah, careful my friend."

The Gran grumbled incoherently as he found his balance, staring at Obi Wan with his three eyes unable to keep focus. "W-watch it pal!"

"My apologies." Obi Wan reclaimed the fallen cup from the ground. "Allow me to make it up to you."

The man tilted his head at the Jedi, rather shocked at the offer in a place like this. Finally, he humphed. "Tha's right... y-hic-you owe me anyways!"

"Why don't you sit down and I'll join you in a moment." Obi Wan's hand subtly waved.

The Gran's three eyes glossed over. "I... think I'll sit down and wait for you to join me."

Obi Wan nodded satisfied at his handiwork. He paused before he turned. "And try not to cause another scene."

"I'll try not to cause another scene."

Ben pat the man's shoulder and headed toward the bar.

Moments later, he returned to the Gran who he found snoring, hunched over the table. Obi Wan set the drinks down at sat with a sigh, prodding the man's mind awake with the Force.

"Hmm? Wha-?"

"Your drink." Obi Wan slid the ale over and the Gran eyed it greedily before taking a messy gulp. Ben resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "What is your name, friend?"

"Who-hic-who's askin'?"

"Just me." Obi Wan took a drink. "I'm new to this town and could use someone to show me around."

The Gran hiccuped loudly and then belched obnoxiously, causing Obi Wan to glance around to see if any attention was drawn. Thankfully the cantina was too loud for anybody to really care.

"Need a guide, eh?" The man took another large drink. "That's gonna cost ya."

"There's no need for payment." Ben waved his hand as it rested on the table.

"There's no need for you to pay me..." The Gran blinked each eye out of sync. "Name's Patar."

"Pleasure to meet you. I'm Ben." Obi Wan held his hand out to shake. "So Patar, I'm looking for someone. You'll tell me anything you know regarding this man."

"I'll tell you everything I know..."

"What can you tell me of a man who works for Jabba; a bounty hunter I presume?" Obi Wan began.

"Jabba's got an army of hunters, old man. You're gonna have to be more sp'cific."

"I hear he has the fastest ship in the Outer Rim." Ben added. "And a valuable Imperial contact who supplies him with active landing codes."

"Imperial contact... ahh, yep." Patar's eyes lit up and he leaned in. "Sounds like the "he" yer' lookin' for is a "she".." He burped out, gulping down more of his drink. Then he shrugged. "And "she" ain't no hunter." Patar's face darkened. "She's Jabba's personal hitman."

Obi Wan frowned. "The Empire must be cracking down hard on the Hutts for Jabba to keep an assassin around..." He muttered to himself.

"Well... she's more of an enforcer who assassinates on the side. She still scares the p-hic-pants off of anyone who crosses her." Patar shrugged again. "Rumor has it she's babysittin' one of Jabba's smugglers. He's in debt somethin' big with Jabba, 'n he's workin' for free to pay him off. Big guy has her there for... motivation."

Obi Wan frowned lightly. "Do you happen to know where she is?"

Patar leaned back in his seat. "Well, the smuggler was just in here not three standard hours ago talkin' 'bout some huge job he's got from the big Jabba himself. No doubt she's still tagging along." The Gran shrugged. "I reckon she could be anywhere now."

"If you had to guess..."

"Hmm..." Patar stroked his chin. "Iff'n it's a big load like he says, he could still be loading his pile of junk up. Hangar 12-A's usually where the Millennium Falcon docks. Check there, if he's gone, the manifest might have somethin' of a lead. If he hasn't ran off. Find Solo, find Jabba's hitman. You'll know it's him by the big Wookiee he keeps around."

Obi Wan smiled. "Thank you, Patar. You've been a great help."

The Gran shrugged as he finished off his drink, taking a sharp breath and smacking the cup down on the table. He then eyed Obi Wan's. "You gun' finish that?"

The Jedi glanced at the drink then back at the Gran who's chin was still splashed with the ale of his previous cup. Obi Wan cringed a bit and slid the drink across the table. "Perhaps you should consider more productive ways to spend your free time."

"Maybe... I'll consider productive ways to spend my free time..."

Obi Wan stood up. "Oh. And also consider a shower."

"I'll also consider a shower."

Ben just smiled and shook his head as he left the bar, finding Threepio

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Darth Vader's Flagship: The Supremacy

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A black void of emptiness surrounded the stormy, dark gray planet of Ren that, despite it's climate, seemed to glow brilliantly in contrast. As if to spite the planet's illumination, a massive shadow slowly cast over it as the monolithic Supremacy crawled between it and the sole star in the system. It's accompanying fleet seemed like mere ants in comparison, floating lamely next to the centerpiece of the Lord Vader's personal First Order fleet; the Crimson Armada. Each ship now had a distinct marking; two thick, painted red lines on the left side of each of the five Reaver-class battlecruisers, the two Mandator III-class dreadnoughts, a dozen frigates and the two Super Star Destroyers Executor and Liberty's Misrule.

Darth Vader stood in a vast room on his ship, it's glossed black floors shined a darkened red from the crimson walls all around, contrasting the reflection of his dark, thick cape cascading just a mere inch above the polished floors. His personal guards in matching red, eight in total lined the walls, silent and stiff as statues, but ready to pounce on any threat that presented itself.

In the room's center sat a large throne; a place Vader found himself never utilizing. Instead, he stood off to it's side, one of the sharp red walls raised to reveal itself as a shade covering a broad viewport. He couldn't really bring himself to even gaze over his fleet and contemplate endless battle scenarios or reflect on the state of his rule. The abandoned husk of Gallius Rax's Ark and his plot to destroy the Shadow Council once they arrived - if they did - seemed menial.

He was unable to peel his eyes away from the metal hilt in his black gloved hands. An object that seemed to consume his thoughts; which only repeated themselves over and over. He wasn't even searching for answers to a question but merely engulfed in the past connecting the web of events that lead to the present.

This blasted lightsaber, he bitterly thought. He should've destroyed it by now. But he didn't... Once more, he found himself in fear of being chained down by his emotions the same way he had been eighteen years ago. Though even he recognized that he could never sever his attachments or abolish his love for his son. And the same love he now felt for his...

Daughter.

Vader had learned to be honest with himself long ago. He didn't reject his bitterness; both for his failure as a father and his wish for Leia to never have existed at all. He wanted to truly believe that his wish was his actual desire, but he couldn't. Even though she opened the old wound left by his unforgivable mistake, or even the fact that Leia was a stunning mirror of his Angel. Every time he looked at her or even thought about Leia, Padme crawled into his mind and infected him with a guilt he knew he fully deserved. He just couldn't bring himself to believe he wanted his daughter to never have existed in the first place.

He once thought he'd forgiven himself, and perhaps he had forgiven himself for killing his wife, but when he found Luke, he made a promise in Padme's name to never let anything happen to their child... which now extended to children.

And here he was, ridden with guilt over breaking his promise.

His son, missing.

His daughter, injured.

And even beyond that; his unsaid vow to Starkiller.

Darth Vader: the feared Emperor and Sith Lord, once the Hero With No Fear found himself trying so hard not to sulk in what he saw as a betrayal to Starkiller. Guilty for being so naive as to sink so deep into darkness, projecting that darkness onto a mere child. Torture, brutal punishments, impossible tasks, all to forge Starkiller into a weapon to use. Of course, that mindset changed after the former Emperor's death but he couldn't take it back. He let Starkiller believe he was invincible, that he was destined be just as powerful as his master and rule the Galaxy at Luke's side... and then failed to even protect his Sith successor so that he could fulfill that destiny.

In a way, Vader had lost a son. While not a failure to Padme, he did fail himself. And Anakin Skywalker's damned lightsaber seemed to just be an object that absorbed his failures only to release them in Vader's presence. Surely his failures here would be absorbed the same way.

Feeling it's call to be wielded by him as if it were a sentient being, Vader couldn't resist thumbing it on. The hiss sliced through the silence and it's vibrant light overpowered the red reflections. He gripped it in both hands and felt the lingering surge of excitement from Anakin each time he saw that brilliant, cerulean shine. He rarely felt that kind of excitement. And that was just as bitter as his brooding thoughts.

He found himself drawn to his old saber and hating it in the same thought.

He wanted to squeeze the cursed saber until it crumpled like a can under his grip, if only to prove he was more powerful than what it symbolized.

Familiar anger crawled into his chest, hastening his breath and provoking the same urges that caused Anakin Skywalker to willingly embrace his imbalance and lack of control. He reminded himself of the man he once was and how childish and arrogant Skywalker had been. If there was one thing he'd never betray, it was his promise to never become that person.

With that in mind, Vader forced himself to put the cursed weapon away, allowing it to dangle next to his Sith blade.

Someone was coming anyways.

The lift's doors whirred open, his guards stiffened as if to remind Vader's visitors that they were present and alert.

Two men knelt. "My Lord... we're preparing to bring the Princess of Alderaan to consciousness."

Vader slightly turned his head, having to push his elation and his misgivings down. It took a moment, but finally he turned. "Very well."

The Emperor followed the two doctors into the lift with two guards beside him.

He hadn't felt this nervous since he was nineteen trying so hard to impress the girl he loved.

He cursed the ability of regal Princesses and Queens for having such a potent effect on him...

Civil War

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Thanks for the patience, but here it is; part two!

Let me know what you think. And thank you all again for your support!

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