
❝ THE MISSION WAS a success, your Majesty. ❞ Darth Vader, the High Commander of the Imperial forces && Emperor consort to the Empress regent bows before his wife && ruler. He slips an darkly-gloved hand over one of her own, pressing the fair skin of her knuckles to his lips. He’s got a kiss like a canker sore; anger incarnate, an open flame hidden behind his teeth. ❝ The Death Star is almost complete. ❞ Vader’s words spill heated breath across her hand, deference hushing his words to an intimate whisper.
He rises without her consent, trailing to stand behind the sharp slanting architecture of her throne. ❝ We found this man hiding in storage with several rounds explosives tied to his body. ❞ He gestures for the guards to bring forth a bound && gagged man with stringy blond hair && the calling sign of the Rebellion emblazoned across his pilot’s jacket. ❝ He says he was working alone, but I’m sure you can change that. ❞
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