When Vader met the Obi Wan Kenobi of his universe, he’d really thought that that was it. Captain Kenobi was handsome, witty, and brave. Yes, he was an outlaw and criminal against the Empire. Yes, the ranting about boring stuff like ‘rule by the people, for the people’ and ‘sentient rights abuses’ and ‘war crimes’ got boring sometimes but Vader found his passion and devil may care approach to the rule of law extremely attractive.
Running missions for his adoptive father, Palpatine had gone from boring and depressing (all the screaming and anger really gets to person after a while, just because Vader is a Sith Lord doesn’t mean he doesn’t have feelings), to exciting and fun. Here was an enemy who could keep up with him in a fight, who could beat him at his own game, and best of all, might make out with him at the end of it. Still there was something missing.
Vader was no fool when it came to love. He’d watched all ten seasons of The Flower of Varykino. He could quote from memory Coruscant Nights. He’d watched Spring comes to Alderaan every year since he was thirteen. Where were the long walks through sunlight meadows or along beaches at sunset, the heated glances coupled with agonizing restraint, the long, slow courtship, the sweet nothings? Where was the handholding, the dates in upscale restaurants, the bouquets of flowers, and of course, that most important element, the bashful confession of love, sealed with a gentle kiss.
Vader wanted Captain Kenobi, certainly, but he had no illusions. Captain Kenobi would never marry Vader in a beautiful ceremony that involved doves and rice and scattering of little white flower petals. He had little interest in exclusivity and no interest in marriage. And he would laugh himself sick if Vader ever called him ‘pearl of my heart’. Indeed, this knowledge had been slowly eating away at him when the will of the force (actually the will of forcearama but shhhh) brought a dozen shiny new Kenobis into his world.
Master Gardener Kenobi was restrained and bashful. He was a man of peace not a warrior. He blushed and exuded delight in the force when presented with flowers. He loved holding hands and walks through beautiful scenery and nights spent lying side by side, a proper three inches apart gazing at the stars, discussing dreams for the future. He was perfect. Vader wanted to marry him. Of course, that was moving a little fast but Vader did know that it was time to take things to the next level. It was time for Obi Wan to meet his family.
Of course, this was a delicate proposition. Master Gardener Obi Wan was gentle man. What if Father Sidious threw another fit about consorting with lightsiders and scared Obi Wan off? What if Maul talked about the pacification of Toydaria at the table (talking about work over dinner is rude and uncivilized after all)? Vader had been forced to make some extremely nasty threats to various members of his family in order to secure their cooperation.
Still, he’d made all the arrangements. He’d cleared the Sith artefacts from the main dining room over Sidious’ vocal objections (what eyesores, Obi Wan would hate them). He’d ordered the walls of the lower floor of the palace to be repainted from intense reds and blacks to tasteful ivories and pastels. He’d filled the rooms of the ground floor with flowers and selected just the right orchestral music to play on low throughout the evening. He’d planned the menu weeks in advance and now tonight was finally the night. Obi Wan would come over and meet his family at last.
Vader took one last glance at the mirror, checking over his appearance and walked downstairs. Not a hair out of place, perfect. Father was sitting in the receiving room, whiskey in hand, glaring at the newly lavender walls as if the force of his gaze might revert them back to their previous ominous oxblood colour. Maul was staring at the bouquets of lilacs scattered throughout the room, his lip curled in disgust.
“Smile!” Vader snapped. “You promised you’d smile!! Do you want to scare away the love of my life? Do you want me to die alone??!!” Maul muttered something about showing Vader “dying alone” but both rearranged their faces into the semblance of a smile. The result was terrifying. Vader beamed, considered hugging them both, and then in a rare fit of common sense, kept his distance.
“Thank you!!!! You’ll love him, I promise!!!!! This is going to be wonderful!!!” He said. Maul growled and then stopped when Vader pouted at him. Sidious slugged back his drink and immediately poured himself another. Tonight was going to be wonderful and tomorrow, tomorrow, if all went well, Vader was going to ask Obi Wan to go steady with him. Vader couldn’t wait.
They would always underestimate her
And the strength that held her high
With a lifted chin, defiant eyes,
They believed she only belonged to the fairytales
Composed of pastels and ivory towers,
When she was made from blood reds and forest greens,
Walking through the sun dappled paths
With wolves stalking in the shadows,
But unlike those foolish men
The wolves would never strike,
For even the wolf knows the difference
Between those who are strong
And those who are not,
And her vibrant beauty was not to be mistaken
And she did not need a man painted in the image of a savior,
For a Queen stood where many saw a mere princess.