Please don't sue me. Don't hurt me. Critique welcome. One shot.
His officers wanted to know what happened inside that shell Lord Vader hid behind. They knew better than to ask him. They valued their lives. But, curiosity and wonder were always there. Vader couldn't kill them for their thoughts legally…but he would flinch whenever they wondered.
His own compartment…his own world. His own shrine…a place where he could properly mourn the loss of his love, Padme. He raided her apartment before Emperor Palpatine had the senatorial compartments bombed and destroyed. He collected several of her gowns, jewelry, and letters. But, he knew holding these things was forbidden, but he needed her. He ordered an officer to cut her gowns, his favorite a blue night-gown, into thick scarves. Silken scarves. From the night-gown she wore his first night back from rescuing the then Chancellor Palpatine. After she told him, that she was pregnant, to their first night alone back on his first solo mission with her, so many years ago.
Oh, he was scared at first…a young man, a Jedi Knight, on the heels of mastery, hiding a wife and a secret life…but he needed her. He hungered for her and only her. But the nightmares…of her dying in childbirth…they came true. And he was left with a pain of true loss and a permanent hatred for everything good. He knew he was on the path of the Dark Side…he knew he was evil, but he didn't care.
His utility belt, having a pouch…he placed one of the many scarves cut from her gowns, and carried one into battle after battle, as a token of his lady fair. But behind the door of his shell in the star-cruiser, helmet stripped away, revealing burnt and destroyed flesh, he would hold the scarf of the day, and would smell it, and remember her…his only love. He would only show his pain, behind that door, weeping, and mourning the loss of his would be family.
He had access to the records. They records of her death said she died, and the child within her womb perished as well. On Polis Massa…while he was suffering, being placed into the suit…the fetter that kept him alive…how he loathed the cursed uniform that shot fear into his victims. The 501st…Vader's fist…when led by Vader himself, was unstoppable. They caused fear. He caused others pain and anguish. He wanted to cause others the same agony he felt, day after day, after day.
The day he almost got caught with the forbidden was the day that they discovered the Hoth base…
Comscan has detected an energy field…
This man had no clue. He had only seen the back of Vader's charred scalp. He didn't see the fabric, barely holding onto the Sith's sanity, nor did he suspect his master had a deeply held secret, not even the very powerful Emperor could foresee in his apprentice.
The officer said nothing. According to tradition, all officers had to be slightly naïve or at least pretend they were to detract attention from themselves and the wrath of their commander.
The Rebels are alerted to our presence…
The scarf hastily stuffed into the pouch, he would live to fight another day, on the path to quench his thirst for vengeance.