No- it would be so easy to lay the blame elsewhere, as he had done so often in the past. No.
He had chosen this path, for himself and then his son. And it would stop... now.
Beneath his hated mask, within the prison his Master had made for him, Vader smiled- truly smiled- testing old scars which had held him from this for long, dry years.
But today they could not restrain, they could not impede. Today they were nothing at all. Today he smiled, knowing the Emperor could not see.
He sensed a momentary connection; a brushing against his heightened awareness - a silent question from his son, a brief seeking of reassurance, the distance extreme... and for the last time he reached out to the complex interplay of light and darkness that his son embodied. He sent that assurance, a solace, a tranquil serenity that this was the right thing to do; an apology that even in this, he was taking free choice from his son's hands... then he allowed the peaceful, composed calm to flood the boy's panicked realization from his mind, distancing him. Now was not the time for regrets; he was done with them. He'd given them reign for too long and he wouldn't give them this moment. This moment was one of pride; of triumph, of ascendency.
Padmé would be proud of him-
He looked to his Master, and the words came easily. He wouldn't understand, Vader knew, but it didn't matter; he knew of what he spoke... Because now, finally Vader comprehended what Obi-Wan had said to him so long ago-
And now, he offered the same to his own blind aggressor- in neither defence nor intimidation, but with the same dignified, assured composure; that pacific calm within the Force which gifted an absolute knowledge of what his sacrifice could accomplish-
"If you cut me down... you will make me more powerful than you could possibly imagine."
Lightsaber igniting Palpatine turned on him, yellow eyes ablaze, hissing like the serpent he was...
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CHAPTER THIRTY
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Vader was dead.
Palpatine was unavailable and Court already cancelled, the Council Chambers above and below the Throne Room eerily empty when Mara arrived in the South Tower, deeply disquieted, walking empty halls in hushed apprehension.
Vader was dead... and Mara was inescapably implicated in the death of Luke's father.
Everything was spiralling out of control with terrifying speed.
She'd returned to her quarters, uncertain what to do, when the comm had come in from Reece; that Luke had and sprinted off, taken an I-TIE, answering no hails, his course directly toward the Palace...
Mara broke the tip from the small glass vial and loaded the single dose into the dart, twisting the dart into the barrel, little more than a gas-powered, rifled tube. When she pushed the safety on, her hand was trembling. She tucked the compact gun into her back pocket, telling herself that she was doing this for Luke- that if he came back to face the Emperor now, both parties would be livid. Palpatine would turn on Luke with a vengeance and Luke would goad him on, outraged. Neither would even attempt to contain or restrain themselves.
It could only end one way.
And for what? Vader was dead- nothing Luke did would change that.
But she could stop it escalating- if she stopped Luke before he made it to the Emperor.
She knew that to do this she'd have to incapacitate him... and there was only one reliable way to do that. Her hand moved again to the loaded dart gun and she pulled it free, checking compulsively that the drug was loaded; that the dart was in the chamber, that the chamber was charged with gas, aware that ultimately this would leave him prey to the Emperor's fury for his part in the deceit... but better that than an all-out confrontation.
She was dong this for Luke...
She was doing this for Luke.
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The I-TIE came in hot, batting down like a banshee, slewing across the landing platform as the forward thrusters battled with the antigrav, the canopy blown clear as it skittered to a grating halt, Luke lurching out.
Mara set forward across the landing platform, arms before her, palms up, hoping to calm him, to interject.
Luke shouted from ten steps away, striding forward, "Where is he?!"
Mara shook her head as she walked towards him, unable to do anything but answer, such was the tone in his voice, "He's in the Throne Room. But..."
"Not Palpatine- my father. Where?"
She was shaking her head, distraught, "Luke, listen to me..."
"WHERE!!"
Mara shook her head again in mute appeal, reaching out for him as she neared him, but he twisted by without pausing; without even looking, rage rolling from him like a stormfront.
She reached out, grabbing for his arm as he passed and he turned, knocking her free. For a second she thought he would turn away and keep walking; perhaps that was what he'd intended, but his fury burst through and he reached out, hand snatching her throat, dragging her about and powering her backwards until she hit the Tower wall hard enough to see stars.
Still he held tight against her neck, leaning in, eyes wild and furious and desolate, a glowing rim of ochre at the edge of glacial-blue. He pressed in, eyes hardening, Mara's vision tunnelling as she fought for breath.
One hand to his, still tight about her throat, Mara fumbled her free hand to her back pocket, pulling out the small dart gun and pressing it to his neck and just for an instant he froze - then his eyes iced over and he shook his head fractionally, furious at her for this and himself for allowing it; for forgetting one last time where her loyalties lay.
Mara dragged a breath in about his hand, still tight to her throat, remembering when he had made her blaster misfire, "You can't beat it every time Luke- you said yourself if there's sufficient gas in the chamber to ignite..."
She left the rest unsaid, the apology and guilt audible in her broken voice, another breath dragged past his unyielding hand.
"Go ahead Mara- press the trigger." he hissed, "I'd expect no less- not from you."
When she didn't move, remained stock-still, he leaned in further, the hostile resentment of his betrayal clear, "I won't try to stop it. Take a side- make a choice; you seemed to find it pretty easy when you didn't have to look me in the eye."
His free hand shot up, snaking about her wrist- but he didn't twist the gun aside, didn't pull it away. Wouldn't make that choice for her.
"Press the trigger." he goaded in a whisper, eyes afire. "What have you got to lose Mara? You couldn't wound me any more today- you couldn't possibly bring me any lower."
They remained frozen, green eyes locked on fiery blue... and Mara felt her eyes well up with tears, felt them burn down her cheeks-
Her hand fell loose, the dart gun clattering onto the polished stone and for brief seconds his hand closed about her neck, jaw tense, eyes hard...
Then he wrenched away without a word, leaving her alone on the platform, not once looking back as she slid slowly down the wall at her back, gasping for breath.
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The walls of the Throne Room were many feet thick, the only natural light in the cavernous four-storey space entering through narrow floor-to-ceiling slits, barely windows, to either side of the dais. Now, with the fiery light of the setting sun, they cast long, blood-red blades across the polished floor to either side of the throne, tracing broken lines across the first of the massive fluted columns set the length of the long hall. Far above, almost at the level of the glowing golden mosaics in the vaulted ceiling, a small, circular window cast a hazy pool of golden-red light to one side of the throne, already in darkness.