I was bitten by a plot bunny, who wouldn't leave me alone. Some might argue that the three brothers might work better as other characters; I am simply putting forth my own thoughts.
Let me put it this way: If I owned Star Wars or Harry Potter, I wouldn't be up to my eyes in college debt.
He had always yearned for power, ever since he was a boy. It was all he had ever wanted, the only goal worth attaining. Friends betrayed you, family were worthless, but power was the only true ally. Every step he took, every action he performed, was calculated towards achieving more and more power.
Peace is a lie, there is only passion.
Through passion, I gain strength.
Through strength, I gain power.
Through power, I gain victory.
Through victory, my chains are broken.
The Force shall free me.
Becoming a Sith Lord wasn't enough. Becoming Senator wasn't enough. Becoming Supreme Chancellor of the Republic wasn't enough.
When the Empire was declared and the foolish, weak, hypocritical Jedi were exterminated, he felt content for the first time in so very long.
But it still wasn't enough. Ever he delved deeper into the Dark Side of the Force, craving knowledge, craving power.
Twenty-three years of undisputed Mastery over the Dark Side later, so drunk on his power that he could not guard against an unexpected betrayal, he was overthrown by his own apprentice, just as he had overthrown Plagueis, so very long ago.
And Death took the first brother for his own.
"Your father was seduced by the Dark Side of the Force. He ceased to be Anakin Skywalker and became Darth Vader. When that happened, the good man who was your father was destroyed."
With a single strike, both Mace Windu and Anakin Skywalker were no more.
As he marched on the Jedi Temple, Darkness within and darkness without, the man who was Darth Vader ruthlessly quashed the last qualms of mercy and conscience. He needed to do this. He needed the power to save the woman he loved from the clutches of Death.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, the voice that sounded like his mother, or Qui-Gon Jinn, or lately even Obi-Wan, whispers, "No, Anakin. She wouldn't want this. Don't do it."
But her screams rip through his mind, drowning out everything else. And Darth Vader marches on, ruthlessly crushing Anakin Skywalker beneath a mental heel. The suit of armor that he will later don is just frosting on the cake, an external reflection of Vader's warped soul, twisted by passionate, obsessive lust and desire.
Though the body of Anakin Skywalker is not yet dead, everything that he was-son, student, friend, Jedi, hero, savior, brother-died that night.
And Death took the second brother for his own.
But though Death searched for the third brother for many years, he was never able to find him.
This day had not gone as he had expected. It had been thrilling, for a while, to once more go into action, to pit his wits and skills against an opponent, to have a student to train. He thinks of Yoda's injunction that a Jedi did not seek adventure or excitement, but he'd never been very good at following that rule.
Now, here he was, once more facing in combat the man he had loved more than any other except for Qui-Gon, paying the price for his lack of practice over the past two decades. But he did not fear; as the Force willed, so it would do.
"You cannot win, Darth," he states calmly, pushing away the memories of countless times he'd sparred with Anakin. "If you strike me down, I shall become more powerful than you can possibly imagine."
The Sith Lord redoubles his attacks, and Obi-Wan responds in kind-his defensive Soresu style will not avail him as well here, not against a more reserved attack, not while the strength ratio is so firmly on his opponent's side.
He cautiously gives ground, making Vader work for every inch. Out of the corner of his eye, he notes stormtroopers rushing to assist, but knows that his old apprentice will prefer to deal with him himself, unless Obi-Wan should, by a miracle of the Force, come close to winning this fight.
"Ben?" he hears, and glances off to the side, seeing his newest apprentice gazing at him in fear and confusion. There's so much more he wants to teach the boy, so much more he wanted to say to him. But the Force whispers in his mind, and he realizes that he has the opportunity to teach one final lesson to both of his apprentices.
Luke, he knows, with the certainty of Force-borne intuition, will continue on, and become a great Jedi Master, one of many. Leia will be safe, and well, and just as magnificent in her own way. This is it, then. He raises his lightsaber, and smiles, as Vader-student, friend, brother, traitor-sends him on his way. There is no death, there is the Force.
Vader's blade slices through his robe, but there is only a moment of pain before crude matter gives way to luminous spirit.
"Run, Luke, run!"
To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.
And then he greeted Death as an old friend, and went with him gladly, and together they departed this life, as equals.
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