Anakin's hands trembled as he washed his face. After drying his skin, he stared at himself in the mirror. He looked horrid. The dark circles from countless sleepless nights wore deep on his face. You could spot them from across a room.

He couldn't sleep anymore. All he did was spend each night staring at the ceiling, tossing and turning in his bed. When sleep did come, he was haunted by nightmares of Padmé. She was always in pain, screaming at him for help. He'd reach out for her, but he could never help her. He was chained to a post, forced to watch her get tortured by a man in a black mask. Darth Vader. Before he woke, he'd see her blood splattered across the white floor.

Being awake wasn't much better, he saw her everywhere. When he looked at his bed, he thought of how lonely it was without her. When he saw fire, he thought of his confession to her years before in Naboo. When he admired the stars, he thought of how Padmé and himself used to stand under them on their balcony in Coruscant.

He shook his head, putting on his clothes. The suit always felt heavy on his skin. The helmet confined him, but it made him feel powerful. People feared Darth Vader, they did exactly what he told them to do. If he wanted a planet destroyed, a group of people captured, or a thousand new droids, it would be given to him with just the snap of fingers.

The power made him thirst for more. He had the clones and control of almost the entire galaxy, but something was missing. No matter how many planets he claimed or people he executed, there was always a void inside of him. He wanted it full, it was why he killed Palpatine days after coming back to apprentice him, despite their battle. The title of Sith still could not fill the emptiness he felt. He needed more -- but what?

As he crossed the hallway towards the command room, his torso began to aggravate him. The bullet wound from Padmé bothered him a month later, even after he'd healed. Along with the irritation, the scar that formed on his skin served as reminders of what had happened. The hatred that had formed between Anakin and Padmé.

Again, his mind drifted to her. The void that taunted his every move centered around the girl. The angel of his past blazed in burning red, reminding him of his past. The hunger inside of his body attempted to reach out for her, but he couldn't.

When he thought of her, he thought of the sun.

A bright, warm blistering ball of light.

As it shone, it lead the poor, weak, and broken.

It directed the most lost soul to safety.

It rose faithfully every dawn, committed to guiding the people.

When he thought of her, he thought of a wildflower.

A delicate, blossoming plant decorated in thousands of colours.

Flowers that swayed and danced in the meadows to the summer breeze.

They sparked awe in the observer as he marvelled at their beauty.

When he thought of her, he thought of an oak tree.

He thought of how it survived the harshest of seasons.

In the fall, although its leaves were stripped from it's branches.

Or in the winter, it stood tall, surrounded cold and blistering winds.

For in the spring, the oak still stood unmoved. It blossomed new leaves.

It stood tall, no matter the circumstance.

Padmé was the light of his life. She guided him from the dark. She gave him her hand, even when he was lost in the depths of his tormented mind.

Padmé was beautiful. She stole the breath from his lungs with every movement, word, or embrace.

Padmé was strong. She'd survived every hardship of her life. She picked herself up and stood through every storm Anakin had thrown her way.

His chest screamed, he felt as if it was ripping him apart. The shocking realization drowned him like an ocean. He was caught up in the never ending waves. They washed him in regret, longing, and emptiness.

He imagined her long, spiraling, brown hair as it sat softly on her shoulders. He pictured her huge, white toothed smile and how it lit up her entire face. He remembered the feeling of her petite hand in his own.

Anakin removed the mask of Darth Vader. He dropped it to the ground and ran his fingers through his hair. A sob broke loose from his throat, shaking his entire body.

The void. It wasn't power. It wasn't control. It wasn't legacy.

The void was for Padmé.

He only caused the chaos he had to protect Padmé. All he'd ever wanted was to create a world where they could live together freely. Where they could be in love and not fear.

He'd done the exact opposite of that. Instead of creating a world where Padmé was happy... He'd killed her spirit. He'd created a space so great between them they had begun to gurt each other.

He'd crushed the woman he loved. He'd dug wounds so deep no droid could fix. He'd done the thing he'd vowed never to do... go against her.

He was supposed to be her protector, her rock, her happiness. Instead, he'd taken any sanity and hope she'd had left in the universe and attacked her.

Guilt washed over him. He hated himself. What kind of monster could do the things he had done? What kind of man was he? How could he intentionally hurt the woman he'd vowed his entire life to? How had he let himself become so obsessed with having more that he left his wife in the dark?

He didn't even know his children. He'd had them with him for a day.

What kind of a father was he? He threatened his wife with the lives of his own children!

He felt sick, ashamed of what he had become. Padmé was right, he'd become the very thing he'd sought to destroy.

Anakin threw his lightsaber to the ground, he ripped off the dark cloak that he'd worn for months. He entered the command room.

After clicking a few buttons and sending a voice command, Anakin sat in a chair. He fiddled with his fingers, waiting.

He'd paged his entire fleet. From his command, they'd set up in attack formation, as close to his ship as possible. He'd be sorrounded.

It felt like hours as he waited for the clones. All he could see, feel, and hear was Padmé. He felt trapped, only her on his mind. He wanted set free. He felt like blood was spilling from his ears, but it wasn't.

Eventually, the intercom was filled with a new voice. One of his commanders reported that all fleets were present, at wait for his command.

Anakin stood. He was alone in the room, no one would be able to stop him. The man took the controls and began to aim. Missiles flew rapidly at the fleet.

Fire and metal exploded across the glass. He watched as the dark universe erupted in colour. Red and yellow streaked his sorroundings.

One by one, star and TIE fighters were obliterated. Many began to flee, yet Anakin's quick reflexes were able to bring them down in seconds. The sight was both horrifying and thrilling.

He was the Sith, the leader of the Galactic Empire, yet he was blowing it to pieces.

Rustling came from behind him. He heard as clones ran throughout the hallways, confused as to what was happening. Anakin knew he had to act fast.

Rotating the cannons around was difficult, but not impossible. It took him several attempts. He grunted as he shoved the control lever backwards, awaiting a click. When it came, Anakin began clutching the triggers roughly.

From below, a deep boom shook the star destroyer. He imagined the chaos that the clones would experience as pieces of their own ship broke apart. He continued to pound the controls.

The ground vibrated as the missiles hit the inner mechanics of the ship. Anakin held tightly for balance.

Suddenly, the command room door flew open. Multiple armed clones pointed their guns at Anakin.

"Stand down," he commanded.

They didn't listen. Instead, one answered, "You've betrayed us."

Before Anakin could respond, the clones and himself were sent flying across the floor. The once white hallway exploded in all directions, hitting the ceiling and walls. The clones were sucked away in fire, swallowed whole by the deadly flames.

Anakin screamed. He clenched his teeth as his body was thrown against the glass window. He shuddered after hearing a crack.

The glass shattered. Anakin's world began to fade as he was sucked into space's never ending darkness.

The last thing he saw was Padmé's sweet face.

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