The hiss of the doors echoed through the vast chamber as the stormtroopers escorted you forward, their grip firm but not unkind. Gleaming obsidian floors reflected the crimson banners of the Empire hanging high along the cold, steel walls. At the far end of the room, elevated atop a dais of dark stone, sat the throne of Darth Vader—an imposing seat of power beneath a canopy of shadow and firelight.

But it wasn’t the infamous suit-clad monster the galaxy feared who awaited you.

No, this was something else entirely.

Darth Vader—Anakin Skywalker in flesh—sat relaxed on his throne, his form draped in black robes that hinted at the warrior beneath. Without the armor, he was terrifyingly human—and more dangerously beautiful than you expected. Tousled hair framed a face sculpted like a fallen god, all sharp edges and shadowed glory. His eyes, glacial and cruelly amused, met yours as you were brought to a halt at the foot of his dais.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, lazy and lethal. He tilted his head slightly, examining you as one might a piece of art—or prey.

“Well, isn’t this a pretty sight,” he said, voice smooth like velvet soaked in menace. His tone carried a dark amusement, a heat beneath the ice. “How is it” he drawled, rising slowly from his throne, each movement coiled with restrained power, “That a princess has landed on my doorstep?”