=== Anakin ===
Anakin moved through the halls toward the makeshift office of the Supreme Chancellor, the echo of his boots sounding louder, seeming to mark a point of no return. When the doors slid open, Palpatine was already waiting for him, standing beside his desk rather than seated behind it, the city's dim lights spilling in through the viewport behind him.
He turned as Anakin entered, his expression warm, almost relieved, and crossed the room to meet him as if greeting a long-absent son. "Anakin," he said gently, studying his face, the scars, the tension that still clung to him like smoke after a fire. "You've had time to think? About what we discussed before you left for Alderaan." Anakin stopped a few paces away, his jaw tightening for a brief moment before he nodded. "I have," he answered. "I thought about it the entire way back. About the Republic. About the Jedi. About everything I saw." He lifted his gaze to meet Palpatine's. "And I've made my decision."
He took a breath, then continued, the words coming more easily once he allowed them to flow. "The Jedi failed the Republic. They lied, they hid things they had no right to hide, and on Alderaan I saw just how far that deceit went. They were willing to betray everything they claimed to stand for." His hand clenched at his side as memories surged. "You, on the other hand… you've done more to protect the Republic than they ever did. You were right about them. About all of it."
Palpatine's smile grew, slow and satisfied, though he kept it carefully restrained, letting Anakin finish. "If the price of peace is truth," Anakin said quietly, "then the Jedi could never have paid it. But you did. You do." He straightened, resolve hardening in his chest. "I will join you. I will learn from you."
For a moment, Palpatine simply looked at him, and then the last remnants of the kindly Chancellor fell away like a discarded cloak. His posture changed, his presence swelling, the air in the room seeming to tighten as something vast and ancient unfurled itself.
He spread his arms slightly, no longer hiding the darkness behind his eyes. "At last," Sidious said, his voice low and rich with power. "You see clearly. The Jedi shackled you with fear and doubt, Anakin, but the dark side will free you. Through it, you will have the strength to save the Republic… and the power to protect your family from any fate that would dare threaten them." He stepped closer, seeming to tower over Anakin now, no longer pretending to be anything less than what he was. "Become my apprentice. Learn the Dark nature of the Force, and together we will bring order to a galaxy that has wallowed in hypocrisy and weakness for far too long."
Anakin did not hesitate. He lowered himself to one knee, bowing his head in submission, the last threads of his former life slipping away as he spoke the words that sealed his fate. "I pledge myself to your teachings… my Master." he said, his voice steady and unbroken.
Sidious smiled, the expression sharp and predatory, and placed a hand lightly over Anakin's bowed head. "Good. Very good," he intoned. "The Force is strong with you. A powerful Sith you will become." His voice rose, filling the chamber with dark certainty.
"Henceforth… you shall be known as Darth… Vader." Anakin bowed his head even lower, the name settling over him. "Thank you, my Master," he said. Sidious withdrew his hand and turned away, already looking toward the future he had so carefully engineered. "Rise, Lord Vader."
He did not turn back to face Vader at first, remaining where he stood with his hands clasped behind his back, gazing out over the endless lights of Coruscant as though the city were merely a game board.
"Accompany Grand Admiral Tarkin to the SunEater. From there you will travel to a distant system close to Tatooine."
"Their headquarters there must be erased," Sidious said calmly, as if discussing the removal of an inconvenience rather than the destruction of an entire command structure. "Let the galaxy see that the Republic does not recoil when blood is spilled. We answer force with force." Vader listened in silence, his posture rigid, absorbing the command without question, the faint hum of the city outside underscoring the gravity of what was being set in motion.
With a subtle gesture, Sidious activated a holoprojector, and the air before them shimmered as the molten world of Mustafar bloomed into existence, rivers of lava carving through blackened land, the planet's surface alive with heat and fury.
The red glow painted Sidious' pale features in hellish light as he turned back to Vader at last. "After Tatooine," he continued, "you will travel to the Mustafar system. The Imperium currently holds the planet and uses it as a forge world, a place of industry and warcraft. That will not stand." His eyes narrowed slightly.
"Mustafar is more than a factory. It is a nexus of the dark side, ancient and powerful. In the wrong hands, it is a threat. In ours… it is an asset beyond measure." The image rotated slowly, showing vast industrial complexes clinging to obsidian cliffs, the implication clear: the Imperium had claimed something they had no right to wield.
The Imperium have struck a grievous blow by destroying Lah'mu and the Republic's clone production facilities. And while millions of clones still served faithfully, attrition and time would erode that advantage. "If we are to win this war," he said, voice lowering, "we will need Mustafar. Its forges, its resources, its strategic position. With it, we rebuild stronger than before. Without it, we wither."
Vader finally spoke then, asking what was to be done about the Jedi scattered across the galaxy, those who had escaped Alderaan and gone into hiding. Sidious dismissed the concern with a faint, amused smile. "They will be dealt with," he replied smoothly. "I will see to the traitors personally. You need not concern yourself with them."
He stepped closer to Vader, the hologram's glow flickering across their forms, and placed a hand on his apprentice's shoulder, the touch possessive, almost intimate.
"Your task is Tatooine, and then Mustafar," Sidious said, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "Take it from the Imperium. Bathe yourself in the dark side that flows there, and you will grow stronger than you can imagine. Strong enough to shape destiny itself." His eyes bored into Vader's. "Strong enough to save Padmé." At that, something stirred within Vader.
He bowed deeply, accepting the order without hesitation, his loyalty now absolute. "I will not fail you, my Master," he said. Sidious straightened, satisfaction radiating from him. "Go, Lord Vader," he commanded. "Bring the galaxy to heel."
Vader turned and strode from the chamber, the doors sliding shut behind him, leaving Sidious alone with the glowing image of Mustafar and a thin, triumphant smile as the next phase of his grand design began.
=== Raxor ===
From the viewing bay, Mandalore looked like a world forever braced for war, its iron-gray continents scarred by ancient bombardments, cities built like fortresses rather than homes, the planet itself radiating a stubborn refusal to ever truly kneel. It felt… appropriate. This was a world that understood endurance, that understood survival through fire, and as the transport broke away from the barge and began its descent, Raxor could not help but think that there was no safer place in the galaxy for his Primarch to rest, even in this diminished, wounded state.
The ship touched down with a heavy, resonant thud, repulsors whining as dust and grit were kicked up around the landing struts. The ramp lowered slowly, and the first thing Raxor saw was Severus Agemman waiting below, hovering a short distance above the ground in his grav-chair, flanked by a small honor guard of Ultramarines in full plate.
Time had not been kind to the former captain of the First Company, but it had not diminished him either; his armor was modified and scarred, his massive frame locked into the chair, his eyes still sharp with the same iron resolve Raxor remembered from the early days of his arrival in this universe. Agemman inclined his head respectfully as Grand Regent Nira stepped down the ramp, his voice steady and formal as he greeted her, then Maximus, then Sebastian, then himself, offering each the deference owed to their rank and deeds.
But when the hovering slab carrying Vulkan emerged from the ship's interior, borne carefully on anti-grav fields and surrounded by medicae attendants, Agemman froze.
The words died in his throat, his hand tightening against the armrest of his chair as his gaze locked onto the massive, sleeping form of the Lord of Drakes. For a long moment, he said nothing at all, awe written plainly across his scarred face, as though he were a neophyte again, standing before a living legend for the first time. Raxor saw his throat work as he swallowed, emotion warring with discipline, before he finally exhaled a slow, reverent breath. "By the Emperor…" Agemman murmured, almost to himself, before catching his composure and straightening as best he could.
Raxor stepped forward then, placing himself instinctively closer to Vulkan. He asked if the chamber was ready. Agemman turned his attention back to him, and this time there was pride in his expression, hard-earned and unashamed. He confirmed that it was ready, that every resource at Mandalore's disposal had been poured into its construction, that it had been designed not merely as a holding chamber but as a sanctum, a vault, a fortress within a fortress.
"It is the most impervious room we have ever built," Agemman said firmly. "Void-shielded, grav-locked, layered with redundancies upon redundancies. Even if the traitor Perturabo himself stood before its gates with all his infernal engines, he would not crack it." The words were not bravado; they were a statement of fact, delivered with the quiet confidence of someone who had overseen every detail personally.
That was enough for Raxor. He felt some of the tension ease from his shoulders, just a fraction. He nodded once, satisfaction flickering across his features. Agemman noticed it and allowed himself a faint smile before offering to escort them to the chamber immediately. As they began to move, Vulkan's slab gliding smoothly alongside them, Raxor walked at its side, eyes never leaving his father's still form.
The saferoom lay buried deep beneath Mandalore's armored crust, directly below Agemman's own chambers, as though the planet itself had folded its strength inward to cradle what lay within. It was a vault in every sense of the word, adamantine walls layered with void shielding, sigil-etched pylons humming softly with contained power, and a single, monolithic doorway that served as the only point of entry or exit, thick enough to withstand sustained orbital fire.
The chamber beyond was vast, far larger than strictly necessary, its ceiling lost in shadow and its floor etched with ancient Mandalorian and Imperial runes alike, symbols of endurance, guardianship, and unyielding resolve. As Vulkan was carefully guided inside on his hovering slab, Agemman spoke quietly but firmly, explaining that a rotating honor guard would be stationed both inside and outside the room at all times, warriors sworn to silence and vigilance, ensuring that the Primarch would be left undisturbed, allowed to rest and heal until the day he chose to wake. "No alarms will sound here unless the galaxy itself is ending," Agemman said. "He will sleep in peace."
Once Vulkan was secured at the heart of the chamber, his massive form resting upon a reinforced plinth designed specifically for his size and weight, Agemman turned to the others and gave a slight nod. "I'll ask you all to give him this moment," he said, his gaze settling on Raxor. "Some goodbyes are not meant for witnesses." There was no argument. Maximus inclined his head and turned without a word, Sebastian hesitating only long enough to glance back once before following, Nira offering Raxor a quiet, understanding look before the doors began to close. The seals engaged with a deep, resonant thrum, and just like that, the chamber was silent save for the low hum of its systems. Raxor stood alone with his father.
He moved slowly, checking every detail with the meticulous care of a son who had waited far too long for this moment. He ensured that Urdrakule rested within reach, the great hammer laid beside Vulkan's arm, its haft aligned just so, before gently adjusting his father's massive hand until it closed around the hilt. "There," Raxor murmured, his voice softer than it had been in years. "Wouldn't be right otherwise." He knelt beside Vulkan's head, the sheer scale of him still awe-inspiring even in sleep, and for a long moment he simply looked at him, committing every scar, every line, every familiar feature to memory as if afraid they might vanish the moment he blinked.
"I found you, Father," Raxor said at last, his words echoing faintly in the cavernous room. "Took longer than it should have… longer than I wanted. This galaxy is so strange, broken in its own way, full of wars that feel smaller than ours and yet somehow just as cruel." He spoke then of battles fought beneath alien stars, of Mandalorians who reminded him of Nocturne's stubborn people, of brothers reforged in fire and oath. He told Vulkan of Sienn, his voice warming despite himself as he spoke the Twi'lek girl's name. "She calls me father," he admitted quietly. "Didn't plan on that. Didn't expect it. But she's strong, and kind, and she doesn't back down when things get hard. You'd like her. She's not half bad with a hammer either, still rough around the edges, but there's something there. Something solid." A faint, almost embarrassed huff escaped him. "Guess that runs in the family."
His voice lowered as he reached the end of his tale, emotion finally bleeding through the iron discipline he wore like armor. "I'm glad I found you," Raxor said, resting his forehead briefly against the edge of the plinth. "There's so much more I need to tell you. So much you need to see. Wake up soon, Father… please." He rose slowly, straightening to his full height, and for a heartbeat he simply stood there, staring down at the Primarch who had shaped his life and his soul. The weight of it all crashed over him then, relief, grief, pride, fear, and before it could break him, Raxor reached up and placed his helmet back over his head, sealing himself behind ceramite and discipline once more. Without another word, he turned and walked toward the door, leaving Vulkan to his rest, and trusting that he would wake.
===
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