As he walked down the hall he got rid of his gloves and other accessories from his suit. Upon reaching his throne, he collapsed on the seat and removed the safety locks from his mask. Darth Vader’s mask stopped covering his face and Anakin Skywalker was there again: changed, aged and shattered over the years, but a part was still him.

He took a hand to his face and leaned against the throne. It had been a long and hard day. Too many deaths and destruction. If I closed my eyes long enough I could still hear the screams of those who burned to death.

He felt a cold presence beside him. He did not need to look to the side.

"What happened to you, Anakin?" It was the living representation of his wife, only fate would know if she was a ghost or part of his imagination. You were like the last time Anakin saw you: pregnant, with that calm and kind face.

Anakin looked away, he was not able to look into your eyes. Not after he, according to Palpatine, killed you blinded by rage.

"Get out of my head." Anakin’s voice sounded faint and trembling. He rubbed his eyes with one hand. "I beg you."

His wife’s death would always be a burden on him.