Fumbling Towards Eden

Disclaimer: All characters and settings within the Star Wars Universe are the sole property and possession of George Lucas, the almighty. Ownership of said characters herewith is neither stated nor implied by author. No copyright infringement is intended. The words, where they fall, and their twisted implications all come from said author's brain, however she remains penniless and starving on planet Earth and makes no money from this, or any other, story. Sucks to be her.
Note: Finally got around to fixing the formatting issues. Apologies for the bump.


Chapter One

“His head has been filled with the smoke from his smothered heart for far too long; it has been the thunder that darkens his mind.”
-Matthew Stover

Alaria shuffled restlessly in the chair. Her hands drifted to the small bulge of her belly and covered it protectively, as if to hide the fragile life within. She enjoyed the feel of her expanding stomach through the soft silk of her garments, far richer and more elaborate than anything she had worn in her “old life”. Lord Vader had provided her with a variety of loose fitting robes and pantsuits when her beloved bodysuits had stopped fitting properly. She had refused his suggestion of dresses, had threatened her protocol droid with Vader’s lightsaber when it had encouraged her to try them on. The Sith Lord had entered the room and found a pregnant Alaria brandishing his personal weapon recklessly while the droid cowered in the corner. He had not been pleased.

She was now well into her fourth month of pregnancy and was, quite simply, bored to tears. The morning sickness still appeared every few days, but had lessened enough to allow her to become frustrated with her lack of freedom. Between Lord Vader and the medical droid assigned specifically to her care, she’d been unable to do anything fun.

“No training,” he’d told her firmly. “Meditation only.”

His compromise in destroying the concubine contract had been an unexplainable act of concession, one that had not been repeated. Vader afforded her small liberties and brought her occasional gifts, but he was as domineering and controlling as ever.

They were at an impasse. He would not harm her, and she knew this. In turn, she would not leave, and he knew that as well.

Alaria could be useful, when it suited her. Her skills as a bounty hunter resulted in a unique knowledge of sentient behavior and as such, she had an interesting perspective into the movement of rebel insurgents. She knew where to go to hide, how to get lost in a crowd, and how to sneak around undetected. Vader took advantage of her insight.

The Dark Lord himself was forced to dedicate his attentions to a wide variety of tasks at the Emperor’s behest, and was simply unable to spend the time required to track small bands of independently moving rebels. Individual tracking missions were assigned to Imperial officers under his command, but all too often they failed at their task; promotions within the Empire were both swift, and short-lived. Vader would not go so far as to place Alaria in charge of any operation, but he allowed her to “consult the men”, as he put it, and offer advice. At times, he would do just about anything to shut her up.

She sat in his study now, half-heartedly listening to the Admiral’s report on rebel activities in the outer rim, grateful for the involvement it allowed her, but desperately missing the thrill of her own hunt.

“...appear to have more organization than the typical cell, my Lord,” the Admiral was saying. “It is possible they have ties to other rebel forces, are perhaps attempting to unify.”

“Then I suggest you deal with the situation accordingly, Admiral,” Vader responded.

“Y-yes, my Lord,” the man stuttered, no doubt all too aware of the consequences of failure.

The comlink blinked off and the meeting ended. Vader called up a galaxy map on the holo display and zoomed in on the outer rim planets, studying them thoughtfully.

“The rebels seem to think they are safe on these outlying planets,” he mused, hands clasped behind his back in what had become his trademark pose.

Alaria stood and walked to his side. “It would make sense for them to gather here,” she offered, pointing to Ord Mantell. “Easy to get lost, safer than Nar Shadaa... A skilled bounty hunter could not only track them, but determine their intentions.”

He nodded. Now she would tell him she was best for the job, ask to go herself. If nothing else, she was impossibly persistent, his precious one.

“Of course I am, my Lord,” she said, not looking away from the holomap.

“You are what?” he asked.

“Impossibly persistent,” she answered distractedly.

Vader’s head snapped up and he looked at her startled. “Why do you say that?”

“I didn’t, you did...” she couldn’t see his expression beneath his mask, but she knew he was disturbed, and angry.

“I said no such thing, Alaria,” his tone was filled with warning.

“You did, my Lord. I heard you,” she insisted.

There was a pause. He took hold of her arm at the elbow and pulled her towards the door.

“Where?” she asked, bewildered. He was prone to sudden mood swings, but this was odd behavior, even for him.

“Medical.”

“I feel fine,” she protested.

“I’m sure you do,” he answered coldly.

“Then why? The droid examined me this morning, everything is fine.”

“I do not know how you have managed to connect with the Force without my knowledge, but I intend to find out.” His voice was now icily hostile.

“What?” she asked, running to keep up with his swift pace. “I’m as Force-sensitive as a mynock, you know that! My Lord!”

“We shall see.”


Alaria detested the medlab; the cold sterility, the prodding, the testing... For the most part, Vader allowed her to avoid it, bringing the medical droid to his apartments for her routine examinations.

“Well?” Lord Vader asked impatiently.

“One moment...” the droid intoned in its’ flat, mechanical voice. “Her midiclorian count is unchanged.”

“Impossible. Run the test again.”

“Her composition has not changed,” it insisted. “Would you like me to test the child?”

“What?” Alaria jumped from the examination table, hands going to her belly protectively. “What’s wrong with my child?”

“Nothing,” the droid stated. “But the child’s-“

“That won’t be necessary,” Vader interrupted. Taking hold of Alaria once more, he led her back to his rooms as abruptly as he’d snatched her from them.

“Of course!” he mused when they were again in his private apartments. “My child seems to have inherited my Force capabilities...”

“That makes sense,” she said. “You told me that Force abilities come from those... those...”

“Midiclorians.”

“Whatever. They’re genetic, aren’t they? Still, it doesn’t explain why I can sense the Force now.”

An imperceptible shrug. “You have no doubt formed a bond with my child.”

His child. Never her child, or their child. His.

“Your daughter,” she corrected.

“What?” There was surprise in his voice.

“Daughter,” she repeated. “Can’t you feel it? It’s a girl.”

He couldn’t. He had followed the development of his child carefully, with reserved reverence even, but its’ sex had been hidden from him, and still was. It was as if the Force had formed a barrier between the child and him. It had even become difficult to read Alaria’s thoughts, as if the child was protecting both itself, and its mother.

“Fine, my daughter,” he said, clearly annunciating each syllable with undiluted sarcasm.

“Will you sit with me, My Lord?” she asked as she walked to the bed and sat, lips curving into a coy, seductive smile.

“I have matters to attend to,” he answered curtly. “Stay here, I will return later.”

Then he was gone.


She flopped back against the bed and sighed with frustration. Vader had not touched her since learning of the baby, something Alaria found ironic considering her originally intended purpose. Things were uncomfortable between them – they were too similar. There were no illusions of love between them. They were united by circumstance, and nothing more.

She found herself wishing that their circumstance involved a bit more fucking. At first, she had been plagued with constant morning sickness and was too ill for any sexual activity. But her bouts of nausea had subsided and her sex drive was increasing steadily.

Perhaps she should have signed the contract, after all.

Alaria was already nestled into bed when he finally returned. She was curled into a tight ball on her side, but was awake and alert. Vader’s steps were heavy, his breathing measured as he entered the room. She felt the subtle environmental changes as he adjusted the atmosphere to protect his fragile body. She heard him moving about in the darkness, stripping off his armor and robes.

When he joined her in bed, he did not touch her, but laid on his side, back towards her. Alaria rolled over to gaze at the pale curve of his muscular form, faintly visible in the blackness.

“A credit for your thoughts, my Lord,” she murmured huskily, reaching out to trace the ridges of his spine with one finger.

He stiffened but said nothing.

She sighed. Then she closed her eyes, trying to concentrate as he had taught her to do when she meditated. If he wouldn’t tell her what he was thinking...

He spun around and grabbed her wrist. Again she was amazed at how fluid and graceful he was when he moved.

“Don’t,” he growled.

“He speaks!” she exclaimed in mock surprise.

“What is it that you want, Alaria?” his tone was impersonal, warning.

“Why did you ask me to stay with you?”

“You’re mine.” The proverbial answer. How she had grown to hate those two words.

“And yet you ignore me every chance you get!” she exclaimed.

Vader rolled on top of her, resting his weight against her thighs to avoid her belly. He reached down to tear open her robe, pushing her legs open and pressing himself against her sex. He covered her breasts with his palms and squeezed. She placed her hands over his and pressed down.

“Is this what you want, my little whore?” he asked.

She rotated her hips against him in response.

Just as suddenly, he was gone. He snatched his hands away and climbed out of bed. She heard him walk to the door of his training room and step through. Several moments later he entered his meditation chamber; he would not be back tonight.

Alaria lay motionless for some time against the sheets, trying to calm herself, but she found that the more she tried, the angrier she became. Vader had enraged her to the point of lunacy.

Standing, she searched the room frantically in the dark. He had been careless tonight, had not bothered to put away his armor or clothing. Lifting his cape from a chair, she found what she was looking for.

Approaching the Dark Lord undetected was not an easy feat. Skilled though she was at stealth, the bounty hunter had never successfully snuck up on him. Alaria closed her eyes and tried to concentrate, attempting to tap into her newfound connection to the Force. Because she was completely untrained, she had no idea if she would be successful.

Moving silently and effortlessly through the training room, she focused all of her thoughts on becoming invisible. She pictured herself as empty space while she stepped through the door to the meditation chamber.

Vader was kneeling in the center of the chamber, arms unmoving against his thighs, head bowed.

When Alaria had closed half the distance between them, she engaged his lightsaber. His head snapped up and he spun around.

“You little bitch, how dare you!” he swore, eyeing her cautiously, attempting to decide how to disarm her without causing injury.

“How dare ‘you’!” she spat back. “You lure me here! You ask me to stay! And then you throw me away!” She held the lightsaber in front of her with both hands.

“What is it that you want, Alaria?” he asked for the second time that night, and she heard the weariness creeping into his voice.

“I want to understand!” she screamed, her words reverberating off the walls of the chamber.

“Do you?” he asked, his eyes narrowing. He took a step towards her, then another.

“Yes!” she breathed, tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

She felt his presence in her mind as he took hold of her consciousness, drawing her back into his own. There was a flood of sensation – anger, hate, desire. Then there were images before her. A young woman, eerily beautiful with long brown hair and soft, gentle eyes; her figure is full and round in the late stages of pregnancy. She opens her mouth to speak and Alaria can hear her words are desperate, tortured.

“I don’t know you anymore. Anakin, you’re breaking my heart. I’ll never stop loving you...”

The voice of a young man answers. His words are angry, accusing.

“You’ve betrayed me! You’ve brought him here to kill me!” he yells, then he is reaching out with his hand, choking her. When he releases her, she crumples to the ground, unmoving.

Alaria gasped, and felt her legs give out beneath her. Vader caught her before she hit the floor, supporting her weight easily.

“Have you seen enough?” he asked coldly.

She nodded through her tears, letting herself go limp in his arms. He picked her up and carried her back to the bedroom, laying her on the bed carefully. He started to walk away, but she caught his hand.

“Please stay...” she whispered.

He complied, settling himself down next to her; immediately she brought her hand up to lay against his chest and nestled her head on his shoulder. After a moment he encircled her with his arms protectively.

“Who was she?” Alaria asked.

Vader sighed and tightened his embrace.

“My wife,” he replied quietly.


******

When she woke, she was still in his arms. For the first time in months he was not already gone, off overseeing various projects within the Imperial compound. He felt her stir and reached up to lightly touch her cheek.

“You are well this morning?” he asked, sounding slightly guilty.

“Yes,” she said, tilting her face to look at him. “And you, my Lord?”

“I’m fine.” He was watching her, waiting for the inevitable questions about the memory he had shared.

They didn’t come.

Perhaps she was as eager to forget as he was.

Vader didn’t understand why he had confided in her. He could have avoided her questions just as easily as he had answered them, despite her incorrigible persistence. But part of him felt that if she was to bear his child, she deserved to know how he had killed his last one.

Perhaps part of him had sought to test her. And perhaps she was not so much like Padme after all.

She was headstrong, defiant, determined – all things he saw and loved in Padme... but she accepted him for who and what he was, something that Padme had refused to do. Alaria had seen the darkest part of him and had taken his hand, asked him to stay with her. She knew quite well what he was capable of, the things he’d done, and still she looked him in the eye. She still wanted him. Padme had turned her back on him, betrayed him in the arms of his best friend. No, Alaria and Padme were not so similar.

The Emperor was not pleased with the pregnancy. He had been the one who insisted Vader establish a harem, but apparently he had not fully considered the consequences. He warned his apprentice that Alaria could not be trusted, that she was unworthy of a place by his side. A great Sith Lord and a bounty-hunting whore? Women were tricky and unpredictable. A woman who was also a killer was even worse. Above all else, the Emperor demanded Vader not allow Alaria to become too comfortable with him. Vader was not to bed her anymore, lest he lose his control on her.

Lord Vader hid his feelings from Alaria accordingly, but the truth was that each time he looked at her, radiant with the life inside her womb, he felt his heart stir. She was becoming the one thing that he desired most in all the Empire, and could not have.

But damn it if she wasn’t the most infuriating creature he’d ever met!

“Do you have much to do today, my Lord?” she asked. Her fingers were tracing lazy patterns across his chest.

“No,” he replied. “Not today.” A few status meetings with his military leaders that he would conduct from his chambers. Unless the Emperor summoned him, he planned to spend the day with her.

She smiled at him. “Thank you.”

He blinked. “For what, precious one?”

“Shhh, if you ask you’ll ruin the moment.”

“Are we having a moment, then?”

Another smile. “We seem to be, my Lord.”

He chuckled. “I suppose any time when you are not trying to kill me with my own weapon is a good moment.”

She laughed heartily, burying her face into his shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” she asked when she raised her head to find him peering at her intently.

“Nothing,” he answered. “It pleases me to hear you laugh.”

Alaria held his gaze a moment longer, then reached up and impulsively pressed her lips against his. The kiss was chaste, almost innocent, and just as quickly as it had begun, she ended it. She rolled onto her back and moved to sit up, but he stopped her, placing a hand on her belly, covering the tiny swell that was his daughter.

“She is going to be strong,” he stated with approval.

“Like her father,” Alaria replied, placing her hand lightly over his.

“Like her mother,” Vader said. Then he covered her mouth with his.

The kiss was hungry, needy, desperate. He plunged his tongue into her mouth and she sucked on it greedily, his hand reached upwards to cup her breast. She was his, and he wanted her. She wore the same robe from the night before and the torn fabric parted easily for him. He broke their kiss to lower his head to her breasts, taking one tiny nipple between his teeth, teasing it with his tongue. She moaned and
pushed his hand down between her legs, already moist.

His fingers teased open her folds and he slipped inside her gently, reaching up with his thumb to rub her clit in slow circles. Alaria's moans intensified and she pushed her hips against him. Reaching down, she took hold of his cock and squeezed it through the cloth of his slacks, causing him to moan in turn. She brought her other arm behind his back and tried to pull him in towards her.

"No, precious one," he whispered. "Not yet."

He slowed the pace of his fingers, drawing her away from orgasm. She pulled his slacks down enough to slip her hand inside and stroked him frantically, desperate in her lust.

"Please..." she moaned.

Vader withdrew his hand from her sex and placed it over her lips. She licked his fingers sensuously, tasting herself, and shuddered. He slid himself down the bed and hooked her legs over his shoulders.

Alaria cried out when his tongue touched her. She took his hands from her thighs and held them tightly, grinding her hips against his face. When his lips locked onto her clit she screamed with abandon. Encouraged, he sucked harder, pulling the flesh into his mouth. It took only seconds for her to climax, her body shaking uncontrollably.

He pulled himself up her body and kissed her, drawing the length of his prick against her. He entered her slowly, cautiously, felt her body expand to draw him in.

"Anakin..." she moaned loudly.

He froze.

He was about to reprimand her, warn her never to call him that again, but her eyes were closed, lips parted. She didn't even realize what she had said. He felt her tighten around him and was swept away once more by the delicious sensations of their lovemaking.

Vader began to push deeper into her, establishing a strong, steady rhythm. Alaria's moans increased as she approached orgasm for a second time. When she felt his release the pulses triggered her own climax. Vader continued to move within her, drawing out the waves of pleasure. Finally though, the spasms subsided, and he reluctantly withdrew.

He pulled her to his chest and held her tightly. She relaxed against him, satisfied.

"My Lord," she whispered.

"Hmm?"

"I'm afraid."

"Why?" he asked against her hair.

"Because," she answered cryptically.


******

Alaria's existence was ruled by extremes. Kill or be killed. Ally or enemy. Everything or nothing. She viewed the galaxy in sharp contrasts of black and white. For her there was no middle ground. Shades of gray were illusions for weaklings and fools... or so she had believed until she came face to face with Lord Vader.

Vader challenged everything she knew. He was as kind as he was cruel. As giving as he was greedy. He was gentle one moment, rough the next; and Alaria was slowly realizing that she needed him, far more than he needed her. With each passing day, she found herself missing the galaxy outside the walls of his apartments less and less. She had never before relied on anyone in her life. Now she couldn't imagine her life without him, and she didn't even know who he was.

She had planned on spending the day searching the holonet for information on anyone named "Anakin", but until an hour ago he had not left her side. Then the Emperor had summoned him and he had left immediately, without even a word of parting. She had no idea when he might return, and wasn't about to risk his anger if she was discovered. He clearly wanted to forget that he had shared any of his past
with her, and she knew from experience that the quickest path to answers was not always a straight line. With Vader this was especially true. If she were to question him, she risked losing what little progress they had made in the last 24 hours.

After their lovemaking, they'd bathed together, and then she had let him dress her in a dark green satin gown. The stupid thing was already annoying her to no end, but she had wanted to please him. That frightened her. Alaria had never given a damn about anyone but herself before. Loathe as she was to admit it, the clichés about motherhood seemed to be true. She found that she cared deeply for the
wellbeing of her daughter.

She glanced up as Vader re-entered the room, and she could tell from his demeanor that he was not pleased. He immediately began pacing with swift, lengthy strides. Typically, he reserved this form of controlled anger for her antics, she thought with jealousy.

"Something wrong, my Lord?" she asked, arching her eyebrows in amusement.

"There is new information about rebel forces on the outer rim," he stated.

Not surprising. "Imperial ships were dispatched last week to deal with them, were they not?"

"Of course. But the Emperor wishes me to personally oversee their capture and interrogation."

"Why?" she asked, bewildered.

"That is unclear at this time," Vader fumed.

It didn't seem likely that these rebels were more important than any they'd caught before. He suspected that the Emperor simply wanted to separate his apprentice from Alaria. The subject had not been mentioned in the conference, but Vader knew that this assignment was punishment for disobeying his Master's instructions.

She saw his anger boiling just below the surface of his controlled facade, and found that it stirred her arousal. She walked to him boldly and placed a hand on his arm. Almost immediately, he reached behind her and cupped her bottom with one gloved hand.

Grasping his free hand, she began to pull him to the bed. He paused and nodded towards the wall console.

"No," she said, looking at him with a lascivious grin, "leave it on."

Alaria couldn't see his expression, but she was quite certain that he smiled.

He draped her across the bed and pushed her dress above her waist, raising her legs into the air as he snapped off his codpiece with a sharp jerk. Vader remained standing; his power was palpable, real. She allowed him to position her, manipulate her as he pleased. She wanted him to dominate her.

He took her hard and fast. Towering over her, he was the very image of command and control. Release came all too quickly for both of them, and though he lingered inside her, the sensations did not last.

She again had the distinct impression that he was smiling beneath his mask.

"Consider it a...going away present, my Lord," she told him slyly.

He laughed. "Didn't I mention, precious one? You're coming with me." The Emperor hadn't actually said she was to remain behind. He knew he was playing a dangerous game, but he had no intention of folding.

Alaria couldn't hide her surprise. He had never taken her anywhere before. She had not left the walls of his apartments on Imperial Center in nearly five months.

"Is it safe? For the child?"

He nodded. "My personal physician will accompany us, and he has assured me that you will be quite safe."

Vader smoothed her dress back into place and offered his hand to her. She took it and stood, regarding her disheveled appearance with a smile.

"Perhaps my hatred of dresses has been misplaced," she commented and laughed.

He chuckled. "I will summon your protocol droid to pack your things. We leave just after nightfall."

******

Alaria felt at home in space. She enjoyed the cold, impersonal expanse of stars, the anonymity of the enveloping blackness.

New intelligence was being reported even as the Imperial Shuttle drew close to Ord Mantell. Stormtroopers, stationed on the surface, had heard whispers among the people of a Jedi hidden somewhere on the planet. He was aiding the rebels in forming a cohesive attack strategy. The Imperial soldiers were not trained to deal with Jedi, and Vader had spent much of the voyage barking orders in caustic, frustrated tones. Alaria was sitting in the main compartment of the ship with her head between her knees, fighting the waves of nausea that were assaulting her with renewed vigor.

“It is not that difficult, Captain, to capture one measly Jedi,” Vader growled. “I expect you to have the rebels in custody when I arrive.”

He glanced in Alaria’s direction to find her watching him. One sparkling eye peered out from beneath the veil of black hair covering her face. She remained doubled over with her head laying sideways against her knees.

“You find this funny?” he asked.

“I do, my Lord. Your men are – “

“Incompetent!” he fumed.

“The Empire should really invest in the employment of bounty hunters for missions such as these,” she teased.

“Bounty hunters have no sense of order,” he stated. This conversation had become an almost daily ritual between them. “No loyalties.”

“Nonsense,” she countered. “We simply choose our loyalties more carefully than average sentients.”

“Five months ago you told me that you cared for nothing and no one.”

She shrugged. “Things change.”

He regarded her smugly. “Indeed they do.”

A burst of static erupted from the comlink to end their exchange. Vader returned to his pacing and instructing. Once the shuttle had docked inside the hangar of the Exactor, he took Alaria’s arm and helped her to her feet.

“We exit together,” he instructed. “Walk beside me; do not step in front of me or ahead of me. Do not speak. Keep your figure hidden beneath your cloak.”

She nodded. This was Vader’s arena, not hers, and she would defer to his judgment. No doubt he was attempting to minimize the number of questions her presence would raise.

The pair stepped out of the shuttle together and into the open expanse of the hangar bay. Rows of stormtroopers stood in precise lines, flanking a clear path to the bay doors leading into the belly of the vessel. The ship’s commander stood rigidly before them, snapping into a salute as they approached.

“It is a pleasure to have you aboard, Lord Vader,” the man stated. His tone was calm and smooth, but Alaria sensed something else below the surface – fear.

“What is the status of your mission, Commander?” Vader asked, not pausing to greet the man but continuing towards the exit. The commander scrambled to fall into step beside them. If he was curious about Alaria, he wisely refrained from asking.

“We have captured 27 rebels so far my Lord. They were assembled in an abandoned house in the refugee sector. Those that escaped seem to be operating alone. They are panicked. We will track them down with little trouble.”

“And the Jedi?”

The commander cringed. “We have not captured any Jedi, my Lord, nor have we been able to confirm the rumors that one is here. It is possible that they are simply rumors.”

“And what have the captives said about these rumors?”

“Nothing yet, Lord Vader. I thought you would prefer to interrogate them personally.”

They had left the hangar and were traveling down a wide hallway.

“Very good Commander. Send more troops to the surface to collect the remaining rebels. Make it clear that any civilian with a mind to aid the traitors will be regarded as enemies of the Empire and dealt with accordingly. I will see to the captives.”

“Shall I accompany your companion to your quarters, my Lord?”

“No,” Vader answered. “The lady will aid in my interrogations.”

Alaria had been looking straight ahead as they walked, but now her head snapped around to stare at him.

-=Unless you prefer to retire to my quarters,=- he commented teasingly in her mind.

-=Idle hands...=- she sent back, and a slight jerk of his shoulders confirmed that he had gotten the message.

The interrogation room was a medium-sized chamber with stark, barren walls. Metal rings were bolted to one wall, and a threatening black chair sat in the middle of the space. The commander led Alaria and Vader into the room then engaged his comlink to order the first prisoner brought in.

The man was unconscious, but otherwise unharmed, Alaria noted as the guards dragged him in and deposited him unceremoniously on the floor.

“Leave us,” Vader commanded. The man scurried from the room and shut the door.

“Any rules I should know about?” Alaria asked when they were at last alone.

“Nothing that will risk the child,” he said. “Nothing that will kill him too swiftly.”

She began to circle the prisoner slowly. She approached him and kicked him hard in the stomach. The man grunted and stirred. She grinned. This was going to be fun.

Vader watched her with interest. He could sense her reaching out, tapping into the Force to touch the man’s mind. Impressive, for one with no training; one who, until four months ago, could not feel the Force at all. She reached down and grabbed the man’s hair, lifting his face up to meet hers. His eyes were confused and he was afraid.

“Hello... Skyan,” she purred.

The rebel jerked. “How do you know my name?”

“I know a lot of things...” she said. “And the rest, you’re going to tell me.”

Skyan glanced around, absorbing his surroundings. His eyes settled onto Lord Vader and narrowed.

“Sith,” he spat. “I’ll tell you nothing.”

Alaria’s grin widened. “Oh, I think you will.”

She spent four hours torturing him. In the end, he had outlined the rebels’ plans to infiltrate the Imperial power structure and had revealed the location of all rebel hideouts on Ord Mantell; but if there was a Jedi on the planet, he was as in the dark as the Empire. He knew nothing beyond rumors.

For Vader, cruelty and violence were necessities required by his position as Sith Lord. For Alaria, they were an art. Her skin was glowing radiantly, her face flushed with an emotional zeal akin to sexual gratification.

He forced her to watch him interrogate the next prisoner, afraid that too much would exhaust her and hurt the child. His style was decidedly less... involved than hers. They took turns questioning the captives, and continued their work long into the night.

After the broken, lifeless body of the fifth prisoner had been removed, Alaria realized that she was beyond exhausted. Vader led her through the ship’s maze of pathways to the quarters reserved for his exclusive use. She stepped into the refresher and gasped at her reflection.

Her face was splattered with blood in wide, sweeping patterns. Her dress was ruined, splashed with gore. When the twi’lek prisoner, Zakcl'bec, has refused to answer her questions, she’d cut off his lekku, and he’d vomited all over her feet. For that she’d torn out his tongue.

There was something different in her eyes, as well. They blazed with a fiery delight – she could see traces of red and orange in the black irises.

She ran herself a bath and stepped into the steaming tub gingerly, watching the color of the water transform from clear to pale crimson.

A gloved hand came to rest on her shoulder.

“You’ve worn yourself out precious one. Come to bed.”

She washed herself and changed into a clean robe, then padded softly to the bed. Climbing in, she looked to Vader, who sat in a wide chair before a desk against the wall.

“Will you join me?” she asked.

“In a moment,” he answered. “I must review these reports first.”

Alaria settled into the sheets with a sigh. Her muscles were unwinding slowly as sleep began to take over.

“My Lord?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“There’s no Jedi here,” she stated.

“Perhaps not, but just because the first five rebels knew nothing, does not mean the others are equally ignorant.”

“There is no Jedi on this planet,” she repeated.

“And how do you know this?”

“I’m not sure,” she answered honestly. “I just do.”

******

Vader sensed no disturbance in the Force on Ord Mantell. It was possible that this mysterious Jedi was well versed in shielding his presence from other Force users, but Vader doubted it. The Jedi Order had been all but exterminated; those few that had survived Order 66 were not likely to make themselves targets by aiding the rebellion so overtly. Beyond that, the facts regarding this Jedi were not adding up, and he suspected that the rebels had spread these rumors to bolster support amongst the locals. It was a clever ruse, but not clever enough to fool a Sith Lord.

Or his consort, apparently.

Alaria was exhausted. Vader did not require much sleep – neither his conscience nor his duties permitted more than a few hours each night. He woke early and dressed silently, leaving her to sleep while he went to consult the ship commander about the progress of tracking down the remaining rebels. He should not have permitted her to drain herself so thoroughly in the interrogation room, not in her current condition, but he had been fascinated.

Several hours later he returned to check on her and found her awake and dressed, waiting for him with quiet anger.

“You left me? You locked me in here and left me!” she exclaimed.

“I did not wish to wake you, you required the rest and I had to meet with the Commander and be updated on his progress,” he told her calmly. “If your concern is that you’ve missed any fun, it is misplaced. I have not questioned any more of the rebels.”

She could not hide her smile. “So I get to help you again today?”

“Yes, but there will be more rules this time.”

She pouted. “Fine, what are they?”

“You are not to wear yourself out like you did last night. It isn’t healthy for my daughter.”

“Fair enough,” she conceded.

“Until I am able to properly teach you more about the Force, you are not to use it.”

At this she jumped to her feet, preparing to argue. He raised a hand to silence her.

“These are not your abilities, Alaria. They are my daughter’s. I will not have you do anything that may harm her; be thankful that I am willing to train you at all.” It was a waste of time to train her, really, since it was likely that any Force sensitivity she had gained would dissipate once she gave birth, but he would humor her with this.

“Alright,” she sighed. “Anything else?”

“No. Shall we?”

He extended his hand and she placed her own into it; he then settled it into the crook of his arm and led her to the door. This surprised her. She hadn’t expected him to promote any physical contact in front of the men.

Commander Oayen met them in the hallway outside of their quarters, and if he was startled by the familiarity between Vader and Alaria, he again wisely remained silent.

The first prisoner they were to question was a human female, and the reported leader of the rebel band. Alaria held a vague respect for the woman’s leadership, which only served to heighten her viciousness.

The woman, Landoia Nayles, was conscious when the stormtroopers brought her into the interrogation chamber. She was oddly calm.

“Is it what you expected?” Alaria asked.

“You think this is the first star destroyer I’ve seen? You Empire lackeys are stupider than I thought,” Landoia responded, chin jutting out in sharp defiance.

“Not the ship. Your rebellion. Your pointless battle in the name of all things inconsequential and fleeting. Is it all you hoped for?” she asked flatly.

“I fight for things you will never understand!”

“Mmhm,” Alaria answered, watching her prey with steely eyes.

“You are a disgrace to the galaxy! You fallen Jedi, who think you can just-“

Alaria’s laughter cut her off. “Jedi? I’m no Jedi, Landoia. I’m just a bitch with some free time.”

She walked towards the rebel, and grabbed her roughly by the shoulders. The woman’s hands flew to her throat and she began gagging. Her eyes remained angry and unyielding. She would die before she told them anything.

“Alaria,” Vader’s voice interrupted the exchange. “Stop.”

Alaria released her grip on the prisoner and took a step backwards. Landoia did not fall to the floor, nor did she gasp for air. She continued to choke slowly and steadily.

“Alaria!” Vader exclaimed.

“I’m not!” she answered, throwing a furtive glance over her shoulder in his direction. “I’m not doing that!”

But she was.

Alaria had been Force-blind the whole of her 22 years. Now, connecting to the Force through her unborn child, the floodgates opened, and she was being swept away in the current of the Dark Side. Part of this was Vader’s influence; the rest was her own predisposed aversion to virtue. The deeper she fell into that chasm of darkness, the deeper Vader fell with her.

The Emperor had foreseen this. His young apprentice was defiant and headstrong. The more he prohibited Vader from being with Alaria, the more Vader would desire her. She could take him further down the path of the Dark Side than the Emperor himself could.

Lord Vader’s weakness always had been the fairer sex.

******

Alaria opened her eyes and glanced around. She was groggy and remembered nothing beyond grabbing Landoia in the interrogation room. She was now in Vader’s private quarters aboard the star destroyer, and he was sitting at the desk with his fists clenched tightly at his sides. This ship was not equipped to protect him from his injuries and so he was unable to remove his suit or
helmet. The sound of his even, mechanical breathing was soothing.

“My Lord...” she said cautiously.

He turned his head slowly to look at her. She sensed that he was troubled.

“What is happening to me?” she asked him.

He sighed. “Your connection to the Force is growing stronger.”

“I noticed,” she answered wryly.

“You haven’t had any training,” he muttered. “It makes no sense.”

“That doesn’t seem to matter.”

“It should,” he told her. “I have the highest documented midiclorian count in the galaxy and I required training to use my abilities.”

“Perhaps you only thought you did,” she shrugged.

He was silent for a moment as he considered this. The Jedi had been wrong in many of their philosophies. It was possible that the concept of training younglings was just another method of blinding Force-Sensitives. Another way of keeping their true potential hidden from them to gain their subservience. But the Sith also required training. His Master had taught him to hone his skills, to embrace the Dark Side.

“No,” he decided aloud. He shook his head. “Force-Sensitives need training to become Adepts.”

“But what if a ‘Force Sensitive’ has a connection to a trained ‘Adept’?”

“You speak of Force Bonds. They are rare, but powerful.”

“And between a parent and child? Do they develop then?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “Intimacy is forbidden to Jedi – physically or emotionally. Force Bonds develop in a number of ways.”

She asked her next question gingerly. “Was she Force-Sensitive? Your wife?”

“No. If she was, she never told me, and I never sensed a change in her when...”

It was Alaria’s turn to fall silent. “Then why me?” she asked eventually.

“I don’t know,” Vader said again.

“What should I do?”

“I don’t know.”

“I can’t control it,” she said quietly. “It frightens me.”

“But you enjoy it,” Vader’s lips curled into a snarl beneath his mask. “The pain you cause, you don’t try to stop it.”

“Why would I?” she asked simply.

“Then why are you frightened?”

“Because it’s changing me!” she gestured towards her eyes; they had not lost the reddish tint she had first noticed two days before.

Vader let out another sigh. He was realizing that allowing her to help with the interrogations had not been wise. Alaria had no training, no understanding of the Force, and her abilities were manifesting themselves at an exponential rate. She was right, she couldn’t control it, and that was partially his own fault. Now he would have to teach her, he’d left himself no other choice.

“I have to complete the interrogations, and I will do so alone. You will stay here and rest. When I return, we will begin your training.” Vader rose and walked to the door.

For once, she didn’t argue.