(A/N: In the last couple chapters, I realized I've made a few mistakes that I'll address here.
1st - I neglected to write about the Imperium finding out about order 66. I should have written a chapter about all the jedi throughout the galaxy being killed but I didn't.
Dooku's ship would have definitely sent a distress signal to the Imperium about the attack, which would have caused the Imperium to send out a ship to find them or something like that.
2nd - I neglected to write about Ahsoka being with Padmé and feeling the Jedi all die. She would have been there when Anakin met with Padmé and told her his side of events, as well as when Dooku and Qui-Gon came to Padmé, but it just completely slipped my mind.
Therefore, Ill be going back and changing that sometime this week. But this chapter has been written as if Ahsoka was there the whole time. Sorry for the blunder, things have been wacky the last week or so!!!
I'll try my best to do better, and to not make those kinds of mistakes in the future!)
=== Maximus ===
Maximus thundered down the obsidian-lined hallways of Mandalore's capital building, his armored boots striking sparks from the stone as alarms wailed overhead and the air vibrated with overlapping voices. Officers were barking orders, tech-adepts were relaying fragmented transmissions, Mandalorian commanders were asking for orders.
The news had arrived that Tatooine was… gone. The transmission had been garbled, riddled with interference and gravitational distortion, but the conclusion was unmistakable. The desert world had been reduced to ruin.
Sebastian ran at his side, the two Astartes carving a path through the chaos without slowing, their immense forms forcing lesser soldiers and aides to flatten themselves against the walls as they passed. Even in full plate, Maximus felt light, almost weightless from the cold spike of dread that had lodged itself beneath his ribs. Grand Regent Nira had been on Tatooine. Raxor had been with her. They had confirmed their arrival only hours earlier.
And now there was silence.
"We've tried every channel," Sebastian growled through the private vox-link, his voice edged with restrained fury. "Orbital relays, planetary beacons, emergency codes. Nothing answers."
Maximus did not respond at first. His jaw was set so tightly it ached. In the distance, the massive blast doors to the primary hangar were already sliding open, revealing a cavernous chamber alive within.
Gunships were being fueled. Dropships were loading medical teams and supply crates. Mandalorian warriors in blue and gold armor, members of the Azure Talons, were sealing their helmets and snapping rifles into magnetic clamps along their backs. Across the hangar, the darker, heavier, Obsidian Crusaders assembling as well. Beyond them, flames flickered as the Pyro Drakes prepared their incendiary wargear, the air thick with promethium fumes and righteous anger.
Maximus vaulted the final steps down into the hangar floor, his presence alone drawing attention. Commanders turned. Helmets dipped. A ripple of expectation passed through the gathered forces.
"Tatooine has fallen," Maximus called, his amplified voice cutting cleanly through the chaos. The hangar quieted, engines idling lower as warriors listened. "We do not yet know how. We do not yet know who is responsible. But we know our Grand Regent was there. As well as the Commander of the Pyro Drakes."
A low, collective growl rolled through the assembled Mandalorians.
"You all have your assignments," he continued. "The Azure Talons will spearhead reconnaissance. Pyro Drakes, secure landing zones and establish perimeter control on the surrounding planets. Obsidian Crusaders, stand ready for hostile engagement." His gaze swept across them, burning with fury. "Move out!"
A roar of approval answered him, echoing off the vaulted ceiling like distant thunder.
The mobilization accelerated instantly. Dropships lifted on columns of blue flame, streaking upward toward orbit to join the forming relief armada.
Near the edge of the hangar stood four towering figures clad in argent armor inscribed with wards and sigils that shimmered faintly even under the harsh industrial lighting. The Grey Knights watched in silence, halberds resting upright before them, their helms expressionless.
Maximus approached them just before ascending the ramp to his and Sebastian's personal strike cruiser, the Valiant Pyre. The ship loomed behind him, sleek and brutal, its hull scarred from a dozen campaigns.
"You will remain," Maximus told the Grey Knights' Justicar. "Vulkan must not be left exposed. If this destruction is part of something greater, Mandalore may be next."
The Justicar inclined his helm slightly. "The Primarch will not fall while we draw breath," he replied, his voice calm, resonant. "Go. Bring justice to our fallen."
Maximus held his gaze a heartbeat longer, then gave a single nod. "Guard him well."
Without further ceremony, the four Grey Knights turned in unison and strode from the hangar as they made for Vulkan's inner chamber.
He mounted the ramp and entered the Valiant Pyre, Sebastian already at the command dais. The interior hummed, servitors locking themselves into place as navigation arrays flickered to life. Outside the viewport, more Mandalorian vessels were rising from the surface of Mandalore, assembling into a growing formation that glittered against the dark curve of space.
"Coordinates locked," Sebastian said quietly. "Last known position of Tatooine's orbital plane."
Maximus moved to stand beside him, staring out at the fleet. His reflection in the glass looked harder than he remembered, the fire of the hangar lights dancing across his helm.
"Proceed." he ordered.
The engines ignited with a deep, resonant roar that vibrated through the bones of the ship. The Valiant Pyre lifted from the hangar floor, rising through the massive aperture and into the open sky above Mandalore. The planet's clouds parted around them as the fleet accelerated upward, stars emerging one by one as the atmosphere fell away.
Within moments, the ships aligned, hyper drives charging, the void ahead shimmering faintly.
Maximus felt the weight of the unknown pressing in from every side. If Tatooine was truly destroyed, then something of unimaginable power had been unleashed. And if Nira and Raxor had perished in it—
He closed his eyes briefly, forcing the thought away.
"Hold fast brother. We are coming for you." he murmured, though whether to Sebastian, to the fleet, or to himself, he did not know.
Then the stars stretched into blinding lines of light, and the Mandalorian armada vanished into the void, racing toward whatever awaited them in the ashes of a world.
=== Padmé Amidala ===
The cabin of Padmé's ship felt smaller than usual, as though the very stars outside the viewport were pressing in on it. The hum of the steady engines did nothing to calm the unease that had settled over everyone aboard. Mustafar burned in the distance ahead of them, a faint red star against the black, growing larger with every passing minute.
Padmé sat apart from the others, hands folded protectively over her stomach. Her gaze was distant, fixed on nothing. She had insisted on this journey. Insisted that Anakin would be honest with her. That whatever had happened, that he had been telling the truth. He had to be. He wouldn't have lied to her… right? She had to know.
C-3PO hovered anxiously at her side, metal fingers twisting together. "Mistress Padmé, I really must protest this course of action. Mustafar is a war zone, and, oh dear, politically speaking as well."
R2-D2 responded with a low, worried chirrup from near the navigation console, his dome swiveling between Padmé and the cockpit as if trying to monitor both at once.
Ahsoka stood near the center of the cabin, arms folded across her chest, her expression caught somewhere between anger and disbelief. The memory of Anakin as he told them what happened on Alderaan.
But then Dooku had spoken. And Qui-Gon.
The Jedi hadn't allied themselves with the Imperium., they had said. And Anakin had attacked unprovoked.
The thought refused to settle. It slid through her mind like smoke, impossible to grasp. She had known Anakin's temper. His recklessness. His frustration with the Council. But genocide? He had admitted that he wiped the order out after finding out their plot, but… she could help but think something was off.
And yet… she had felt something in him the last time they spoke. A darkness that has seemed he had hidden.
Her gaze drifted toward Padmé, who still sat in silence, fingers splayed gently over the curve of her abdomen. Ahsoka's expression softened. If there was any truth to what Dooku claimed, Padmé would be walking into something far worse than political betrayal.
Captain Rex stood with his back near the rear bulkhead, helmet tucked beneath his arm, his posture rigid. Around him, a handful of clones maintained a loose perimeter, their white armor catching the dim cabin lights. They had been uncharacteristically quiet since departure.
More than once, Ahsoka caught Rex glancing her way.
It wasn't suspicion exactly. It was something harder to define. calculation, perhaps. Or anticipation.
She shifted her weight slightly, meeting his eyes once. He didn't look away immediately. For a brief second, something unspoken passed between them. Then he lowered his gaze, jaw tightening almost imperceptibly.
The silence stretched on.
In the cockpit, the pilot's voice finally crackled over the intercom. "Senator, we're approaching Mustafar's outer atmosphere. Picking up a Republic signature ahead, looks like General Skywalker's ship. Coordinates match what you provided."
Padmé's head lifted at once. For the first time since takeoff, something like hope flickered across her face.
"Begin landing sequence," she said softly, though the steadiness in her tone took effort.
Outside, Mustafar filled the viewport now, an angry, molten world veined with rivers of lava that glowed like open wounds across its surface. Ash clouds churned through the atmosphere, illuminated from beneath by volcanic fire.
The ship began its descent, its hull shuddering slightly as it cut through turbulent layers of heat-distorted air. Warning indicators blinked across the control panels, compensated for quickly by the pilot's adjustments.
Through the forward viewport, another vessel came into view. Anakin's ship rested on a landing platform near a sprawling industrial complex that rose from the lava fields like a blackened spire.
Padmé rose slowly from her seat, steadying herself on the edge of the bulkhead as the ship angled downward.
Ahsoka moved closer to her side without thinking.
Rex replaced his helmet, the hiss of the seal loud in the otherwise quiet cabin. One by one, the other clones followed suit. The sound of locking armor mechanisms echoed faintly.
Ahsoka noticed.
Her eyes narrowed slightly as she watched them.
"Touchdown in thirty seconds," the pilot announced.
The landing struts deployed with a heavy mechanical thud. Outside, the platform loomed closer, shimmering in the heat haze. Beyond it, the dark structure of the facility stood ominous and still.
Padmé clasped her hands together once more over her stomach, drawing in a steady breath as the ship settled onto the platform with a low, reverberating clang.
For a moment, no one moved.
Mustafar's firelight flickered across the cabin walls.
The ramp lowered slowly into the furnace-wind of Mustafar, and the heat rushed up to meet them. It wrapped around Padmé's lungs, stung her eyes, tugged at the hem of her garments as though the planet itself meant to pull her down into its fire.
Ahsoka moved close at her side, one hand hovering near her lightsaber though she did not draw it. Behind them, R2-D2 emitted a low, anxious trill while C-3PO muttered about catastrophic environmental conditions and the statistical improbability of surviving them. The clones descended last, forming a disciplined arc behind the small group.
For a fleeting, dangerous instant, several rifles shifted. Not outward… but towards Ahsoka.
The movement was subtle, barely more than a tightening of posture and a realignment of barrels.
Rex gave a sharp, precise signal with two fingers, visor snapping toward the men who had begun to raise their weapons.
Not yet.
The rifles lowered in unison, disciplined obedience overriding whatever order had nearly taken hold of them.
Ahsoka did not see the motion. She did not turn.
But something rippled through the Force. Her breath slowed as her senses widened, instinctively rising to meet an unseen threat.
Before any of them could speak, the massive durasteel doors of the facility groaned open.
And Anakin emerged.
He moved quickly down the platform, boots striking hard against metal, dark robes snapping in the superheated wind. He broke into a run as he reached the midpoint of the platform.
"Padmé!" he called, urgency cutting through the roar of distant lava. "What are you doing here? This system isn't secure. It's an active warzone."
He reached her and stopped short, hands lifting as if to steady her, to gather her into an embrace, but something in her face made him hesitate.
Her composure collapsed all at once.
"They found us," she said, and her voice shook despite her effort to steady it. "Qui-Gon and Dooku. They came to the safehouse."
"I don't know how," she continued, tears already threatening to spill down her cheeks.
Anakin's expression tightened, but he did not interrupt.
Her words broke then, the effort to remain calm finally shattering. "They said you attacked without provocation. That you started killing them."
The heat shimmered violently between them.
"They said you slew younglings, Anakin." Her breath hitched. "Children. And Jedi who never even raised a blade against you."
Anakin's jaw set, and he stepped closer, lowering his voice as if gentleness alone could mend what had already torn.
"Padmé, listen to me. They're twisting the truth. The Jedi were planning to betray the Republic. They had already begun consolidating power. If I hadn't acted, they would have seized control."
She stared at him, blinking through tears.
"Betray the Republic?" she repeated softly.
"They would have," he said firmly. "It was inevitable."
The slip was subtle, but it landed with the force of a blow.
"Would have?" she whispered. "Anakin… you said would have."
A shadow crossed his face.
"They were on that path," he corrected, voice hardening. "Left unchecked, they would have destroyed everything. The Council had been killed. Those left were going to go to the Imperium."
Padmé's tears began to fall freely now, streaking down her cheeks in the crimson light.
"So you slaughtered them?" she asked, her voice thin with disbelief. "Preemptively? On… suspicion?"
"I ended a threat before it could consume us," Anakin replied, and there was no hesitation in his tone now. "I saved the Republic."
The lava below surged violently, casting a flare of molten brightness across his face, illuminating eyes that burned with conviction.
"The Imperium is growing stronger every day," he continued, his voice rising with intensity. "Entire systems are at risk because the Republic hesitates, debates, compromises itself into paralysis. The Jedi enabled that weakness. They allowed corruption to spread unchecked. They allowed the Imperium to thrive."
Padmé recoiled slightly, as though each word struck her physically.
"You're speaking about this like its…," she paused, trembling. "Like it's a necessary reform."
"It is necessary," he snapped. Then, softer, but no less firm: "Peace cannot be built on weakness."
She shook her head, tears blurring her vision as she looked at the man before her and struggled to reconcile him with the one she loved.
"What are you saying?" she asked, voice cracking completely now.
Anakin stepped back, gesturing toward the horizon, toward the distant industrial spires rising from rivers of flame.
"The Republic must become something more," he declared. "Something unified. Strong. Decisive. The Imperium is wounded after Tatooine. Now is the moment to strike, to end this war permanently. But we cannot do it as we are."
Ahsoka felt it then as she listened to him speak. The certainty. The reshaping of belief into something rigid and unyielding. There was no internal struggle radiating from him. No visible fracture.
Padmé's breath came unevenly.
"More?" she whispered.
"The Republic must be reforged," Anakin said. "It must become… an Empire."
The word echoed against the metal platform like a verdict.
"Under my Master's guidance," he continued, and the calm with which he spoke chilled the air. "it will be transformed into something capable of crushing the Imperium and preventing any future threat from rising again."
Padmé stared at him as though the ground had vanished beneath her feet.
"Your… Master?" she breathed.
"The Jedi were weak," Anakin said, and his face hardened into something she barely recognized. "The Republic is weak. That weakness is why the Imperium grew so powerful. It was allowed to thrive because no one had the will to do what was necessary."
"And what is necessary?" she cried, tears falling unchecked. "Murder? Replacing one tyranny with another?"
"Strength," he answered without hesitation. "Order. Unity."
The wind howled across the platform, whipping his robes around him as the lava's glow painted everything in blood-red light.
"Our children deserve a galaxy at peace," he said, voice steady and absolute. "They deserve security. Stability. Not endless war and corruption."
Padmé clutched her stomach instinctively, as though shielding the life within her from the words themselves.
"This isn't peace," she whispered. "This is Tyranny."
"It's survival."
"No," she said, shaking her head slowly, backing away from him.
Behind her, the clones shifted again, tightening the arc around Ahsoka.
Anakin stood tall in the furnace-glow of Mustafar, conviction radiating from him like heat from the lava below. There was no pleading in his eyes now. No attempt to persuade gently.
Only declaration.
"The Republic is finished," he said. "The future belongs to something stronger."
In that moment, Padmé realized with terrible clarity that she was no longer standing before the man she had crossed a galaxy to save.
Ahsoka did not remember deciding to move.
One moment she stood behind Padmé, heart pounding in a rhythm that matched the violent pulse of Mustafar's lava rivers. The next, the Force surged through her. Her hand lifted, fingers splaying in a precise motion she had practiced since childhood.
The invisible current struck Anakin.
Anakin did not resist.
He simply stood there as the mask he wore with the darkside was pulled away.
The heat of Mustafar illuminated what lay beneath.
His skin was no longer the warm tone she remembered from a thousand campaigns. It had grown unnaturally pale, almost ashen beneath the red glare of the planet. Veins stood faintly visible along his temples. And his eyes… They were not blue.
They burned a molten yellow, ringed in a darker crimson, like twin cores of living magma staring out from a face she once knew better than her own reflection.
For a heartbeat, the galaxy seemed to hold its breath.
He straightened slowly, as if shedding the final remnant of something smaller.
Padmé made a small, broken sound.
She stepped toward him before anyone could stop her, hands trembling as she reached up and cupped his face between her palms. Her fingers brushed his cold skin, traced the sharp line of his jaw, searching desperately for something familiar beneath the transformation.
"Ani…" she whispered.
His molten gaze did not soften.
She searched his eyes, searched for warmth, for doubt, for the flicker of the man who had once spoken to her of freedom and justice beneath Naboo's soft skies. She searched for the boy who had dreamed of ending slavery. The knight who had fought to protect strangers without hesitation.
She found none of it.
What stared back at her was something.. monstrous.
Her breath hitched violently.
She recoiled as though burned, stumbling back. Both hands dropped instinctively to her stomach, protective, shielding the life within her from the sight before her.
"Who are you?" she asked, her voice barely audible above the roar of distant lava.
His expression hardened.
"Once the galaxy is safe," he said evenly, "once the Imperium is destroyed and no threat remains, you will understand. You will see that I was right."
He did not look at her again.
Instead, he turned slightly and gestured to one of the clone troopers standing behind him.
"Take her to my chambers," he ordered. "She is not to leave the facility."
The trooper did not hesitate. He stepped forward immediately, rifle slung over his shoulder as he walked toward Padmé.
She stiffened as the armored figure approached, but Ahsoka moved before the clone could get to her.
She stepped between them, planting herself squarely between Padmé and the advancing clone. Her chin lifted, eyes never leaving Anakin.
Blasters snapped upward in perfect synchronization. A ring of muzzles locked onto her chest and back.. The clones formed a tightening perimeter, boots scraping against metal, armor shifting in coordinated alignment.
Anakin's gaze settled on Ahsoka.
For the first time since she had arrived, something flickered across his features, something almost resembling recognition.
He extended his hand toward her.
"Ahsoka," he said, his voice lowering, smoothing into something dangerously persuasive. "You feel it. The rot that's spread through the Republic. The weakness in its leadership. The endless war that never ends because no one is willing to take control. Look at what its taken from you." He said as he looked at her robotic arm and missing lekku.
His outstretched hand remained steady, fingers open.
"Join me. With our combined power, we can reshape the galaxy. We can end this conflict completely. No more half-measures. No more corruption. No more systems falling to chaos because the Senate cannot act."
The lava surged violently below, sending up a flare that bathed his pale skin in blood-red light.
"You were always stronger than the rest of them," he continued. "Stronger than the Council ever allowed you to be. You saw their hypocrisy. Their blindness."
Ahsoka's throat tightened as she looked into those molten, unblinking eyes.
"What have you become?" she asked quietly.
His expression did not waver as he answered. "It doesn't matter what I've become. It only matters whether you stand with me."
The simplicity of it chilled her more than any rage could have.
Behind her, Padmé trembled but did not move.
Ahsoka felt the weight of every campaign they had fought together. Every lesson. Every reprimand. Every reckless maneuver that had somehow ended in victory. She remembered laughing in cockpits, arguing in briefing rooms, standing back-to-back against impossible odds.
Slowly, she shook her head.
"No," she said.
"Padmé and I are leaving," she continued, her voice steadier now. "And you're not going to stop us."
A faint, almost pitying smile touched his lips.
"You are not leaving," he said calmly.
"I am giving you one chance," he continued, lowering his hand. "Kneel. Swear yourself to me. Help me build what the Jedi never could."
Ahsoka felt fear. Real fear.
But it did not stop her as she reached down.
Both lightsabers ignited at once, twin blades flaring to life in brilliant arcs that cut through the red haze with fierce green light. The hum vibrated through her bones, familiar and grounding.
She raised them into a defensive guard.
"I'm not kneeling," she said.
The clones' fingers tightened on their triggers.
Vader watched her with something almost like admiration.
Then his hand fell to his own weapon.
"Then you will die."
===
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