Missing Scenes
Post Revenge of the Sith: The Price of Vengeance
Mun's note: The Italics shown refers to a vignette scene written by Cariel called Unwavering Loyalties.
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The consequences of our crimes long survive their commission, and, like the ghosts of the murdered, forever haunt the steps of the malefactor ~Sir Walter Scott
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The journey back to his main ship the Executor felt longer than it really was. Having completed his mission of removing the remnant Jedi with much success the Sith Lord found himself both satisfied and annoyed. While none of his prey proved to bear the same sort of challenge that his former master did they held their own better than he’d care to admit. He knew in reality this was greatly due in part to the fact he was still growing accustomed to fighting in his new body. It was infuriating to say the least, but then patience was never his forte.
However the fact he was able to defeat the Jedi with such ease despite this handicap only confirmed his belief that he was far superior to the Jedi in every way. He relaxed slightly at the thought, but it was short lived as he found himself thinking of his last encounter with the warrior knight named Arxia. It made his blood boil at the thought of her nerve; to think the foolish woman really believed that destroying his lightsaber would have saved her from an inevitable demise. He frowned within his mask knowing he would have to craft another one the first chance he had.
Yet despite this annoyance his thoughts moved forward and became distracted by more pleasant memories.
I will be here when you get back.
Dormé. A small smile hinted on his scarred features as he thought of the petite woman. She wasn’t
her in any sense of the word, yet in so many ways she was. Dormé understood him when no one else would. Her loyalty was as unwavering as her devotion. She could not be corrupted and it was in this that he began to find himself becoming increasingly fond of her.
She was a friend when he needed it most and as time passed he found it hard to view her as just one of
her knock off clones.
However guilt is a powerful thing and can cut just as deeply as truth. For while she was so much like Padmé, she was darker somehow; as Anakin he would have been repulsed, as Darth Vader he was intrigued. Even so he didn’t dare cross that unspoken barrier, for doing so would be like blasphemy to his angel and to her memory.
So he resisted the temptation and in turn she too ignored the growing attraction between them, for it was one of their many unspoken understandings. But something had to give and before he departed on this last mission it did.
At one time the guilt would have been overwhelming, but there was something so final, so complete about the forbidden kiss shared that it was hard not to enjoy, despite its unexpected nature and the interruption that only too shortly followed. Even so he chose to ignore the memory entirely for the duration of his mission for he didn’t want any distractions to interfere. But now that time was on his side the Sith Lord for the first time since Padmé’s death he found himself feeling hopeful.
Almost as soon as he emerged from his custom made TIE fighter Darth Vader knew something was wrong. It wasn’t in the cowering behavior of his officers or the brisk news that reached him about an Imperial outpost that had been bombed.
This was something else entirely, something he couldn’t quite register and so he tried to ignore it. However the more he tried the more difficult it became until even the words of his commanders who walked beside him weren’t able to distract him from his thoughts. The sense of loss was powerful and while he initially believed it to be just the linger confusion of his mind; the phantom of Anakin that had yet to die, he soon realized this was something more pressing.
Finally he gave into his troubled thoughts as Lord Vader sent the officers on their way informing them that he would discuss the matter later. Then promptly he returned to his personal quarters and silently palmed the codes that would permit him entrance. But upon entering the Dark Lord paused in startled shock to the sight that greeted him. For in that moment all the reasons for his sense of loss suddenly became painfully clear.
Though the respirator forced air into his burned lungs the Sith Lord felt as if he couldn’t breathe. For beneath the mask of the monster the remnant of what was once a man had gasped his last breath as it was crushed by the overwhelming sorrow and rage.
The bloodied form of Dormé stared back at him with an expression of stark fear. Her body though limp was firmly pinned to the wall in front of him; held in place by two ornate daggers strategically placed into her flesh. The sight was both poignant and painful to behold as all around him the delicate machinery designed to permit him freedom from his armored prison began to shake violently. Finally they began to rupture and explode causing sparks to dance and frayed wires to writhe like serpents.
As though in a trance the fallen Jedi neared the lifeless form as he gingerly reached out to touch her bloodied by unmarred cheek before closing her still open and glazed eye shut.
“…Whoever has done this to you will pay…”
The sorrowed whisper twisted through the vocabulator caused it to sound demonic rather than gentle. But like the tears that now streamed down his scarred cheeks this too went unnoticed.
Loss wasn't a concept that the Dark Lord was unfamiliar with as he had been through this all before. Yet while it shattered his very soul he knew had no one else to blame. His broken body and the prison that was his armor are but a small price to pay for killing his angel. Even with her betrayal Lord Vader never intended or ever wanted to cross the line that had been crossed. Yet in her passing she had left him one last gift; for when Dormé entered his life the nightmare that was his existence suddenly grew bearable.
But like rain in the desert even this small joy faded away and in that moment he knew that he was truly alone. Nothing else mattered and drawing in a forced but shaky breath his eyes settled onto the ornate decorations that lined the hilts of the daggers and with it came the memory of another. It was too much and clenching his fists the Dark Lord grasped desperately to the darkness and allowed it to consume him. He was so tired of the struggle, of being weak; needing what he could never truly have of feeling vulnerable and helpless.
Carefully he drew back the firmly implanted daggers and purposely ignored the small trickles of blood that emerged from the now exposed wounds. Dropping the blades to the floor with a hollow clatter he wrapped his cape over the lifeless form before lifting it with gentle reverence.
But before he had a chance to depart with her body to the small morgue/autopsy lab the holo-cam activated forcing the Sith Lord’s attention and temper.
“Lord Vader I need to inform you of Agent Jaffa and Captain Maberrie’s absence. I have just received word that –“
Not another word escaped the security officer’s lips as his eyes began to bulge as he desperately gasped for air. Fingers clawed fruitlessly at his throat as though somehow it would stop the tendrils of the darkside of the Force from blocking the passageways to his lungs. But the Sith Lord did not stop his unseeing assault nor was he satisfied until the man dropped lifeless to the floor of the security office. From behind him Agent Veers or as she was known to those near to her, Moteé gasped in horror but knew better than to interrupt. Instead she focused her attentions on anything but the holo-image of the dark lord’s visage. However it was too late for that and though she rarely if ever encountered the Sith Lord she was guilty of being a close friend of Dormé’s. As such Darth Vader remembered and knew her though she didn’t really know him; not anymore.
“Agent Veers, tell lieutenant Piett I wish to speak to him immediately.”
Moteé bowed quickly her expression a valiant struggle to hide her fears and concern.
“Yes milord; will there be any further details you wish for him to know?”
The Sith Lord frowned beneath his mask. There were many times he had come close to killing Lt. Piett for his obvious interest in the woman who now rested in his arms. But in the end he found it unnecessary, for while Dormé fancied his pathetic attempts to woo her; ultimately she was his. For this too was an understanding that remained unspoken. Now it would seem sparing his life was about to prove most advantageous.
“No, that will not be necessary.”
The petite woman bowed once more in reply before Lord Vader ended communications and returned his attentions to the lifeless form that was once his friend. While the sorrow continued to drown his thoughts, he felt a part of him die and couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief because of it.
Everything happens because the Force wills it - a soft voice in the back of his mind reminded him as he closed his eyes and felt a new rush of dark power pouring into his veins. With it came new sense of determination and an understanding that wasn’t clear to him before. There would be no more faltering, no more distractions; the Rebel Alliance wanted his attention and now they would have it. For he would stop at nothing until she was avenged and they were nothing more than a statistic in the history of the Empire.
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