03/13/19 A/N: Just so that all my lovely readers are aware, this story and the other posted stories in my Lady Adyé Series are going to be retired in the near future.

What does this mean?

It means I'm about to start the process of revisiting this series and revising and expanding the Three Main Stories - Lady Amalia, Lady Obscura, and Lady Adye. It means I'm looking into integrating parts of my companion one-shot collection, my Rogue One companion story, unpublished material and new material into the main stories. It's going to be the same story, just with more to explore and enjoy!

When is this going to happen?

I don't have a concrete answer for that one. I have a couple other stories I need to finish first, but I'm already starting to work on this project, working on which one-shots to integrate, areas I would like to expand, areas I need to clean up - all that fun stuff. But it is going to happen and, once it does and the New Versions go live, I'll be posting a notification to all the Retired Versions of the series (that I decide to leave posted) to let everyone know!

So if you have any thoughts, I'd love to hear from you! There are a few areas I'd love to get some reader feedback on so if any of you are interested in chiming in, feel free to PM me!

Oh, and if you have any thoughts on specific one-shots from 'Their Lady Adye' (or any new ideas I may not have thought of/considered yet) that you think *must* make it into the main stories or *must* be left out, don't be afraid to let me know!

I'm always interested in outside perspectives. :)

Happy Reading, lovelies! Stay tuned!

And may the Force be with you!

02/16/20 Update: Still diligently working away, lovelies! It's certainly a process, but progress is being made.

On that note, I've been thinking a lot recently about titles and names and the like - specifically for my Lady Adye Series and, in particular, for 'Resistance Commander'.

As I'm sure many of you have noticed, I like themes when it comes to my series and titles. ;P I've also been thinking a lot about how, given her prominent position in the Resistance by the time tFA, it would make far more sense for Ana to go by an alias the same way Athara did post-Yavin/pre-Bespin for, well, much the same reasons.

So this is what I've come up with: Ana's going to adopt 'Tayana' (the frontrunner, though it may still change) as her name - taking her distant cousin's 'identity', perhaps? So she can still use Adye as a surname? - so she can still go by Ana among those she's close to and, given that it's an assumed name just like 'Obscura' or 'Amalia' it'll also serve as the title to Part III, leaving 'Lady Adye' as the name for the series as a whole. Seem reasonable? I certainly think so.

As always, any thoughts? I'd love to hear 'em!

***

I will only post a single disclaimer, and it is this: I do not own Star Wars, though I desperately wish I did.

I only own my own characters and the tweaks I have made :) If it wasn't in the Movies, it's mine. More than that, the only source I am considering indisputably Canon for the purposes of this story are the Films. However, there are the odd details inspired by the EU, the tv shows and so on.

Additionally, this story is the second part of The Lady Adyé Trilogy, though by no means do they need to be read in order.

This story has been previously posted on FanFiction. net under the same title and penname.

Prologue

The sound of his harsh breathing filled the room.

"Where is he?" The woman he spoke to pressed herself closer to the dusky green wall behind her, practically willing herself to melt into it. He only stepped closer.

"I will not ask again. Where is he?"

"You know very well that I will never tell you." Though cold terror was coursing through her, Neva's voice remained as steady as ever, her extensive political training proving just how deeply it was ingrained into her character. His attempts to probe her mind failed again. Despite not being Force sensitive, she was able to fend the creeping tendrils off, enraging him further. They both knew that if he tried to crash through those barriers, her mind, and the information he needed would be destroyed. Both of them also knew that he didn't have the patience to manipulate his way past her defences. Stepping closer yet again, he was close enough to hear her pounding heart. Strands of her dark brown hair clung to her forehead in stringy curls as her hazel eyes stared defiantly at the mask before her.

Suddenly, a splitting cry came from the next room. He slowly turned to look in that direction. Neva reached to the table beside her, groping for anything to use in her defense. She found only a decorative statuette, though it was fairly substantial. It would only be good for a distraction, but it would work. It would give her a chance to go for her blaster. The mask turned back to her.

"A child? So, you have a child, Neva Adyé. Does she have your name, or his?" Neva panicked, her maternal instincts flaring, and swung the statuette as hard as she could at her captor. He was too fast. His hand reached out and easily caught her wrist before she had even come close to hitting her target. His other hand flashed out, catching her about the throat, driving her into the wall. Her vision wavered as dislodged plaster pattered softly on the tiled floor. The statuette fell from her hand, landing on the floor with a dull thud.

"What will our dear Jedi think when he finds that the mother of his child died because she refused to tell me where he is? Does he even know the child exists?"

"I would hope you knew me better than that." She choked out. He just watched her, his expressionless mask hovering frozen in front of her face, the pressure on her neck increasing slightly. He leaned a little closer. He appeared to have an idea.

"Tell me, what would he think if I took her with me? I can sense her potential; it is indeed promising. Or perhaps I should simply kill her too." At this her eyes went wide with both fear at his threats and from his ever-tightening grip. Her pale blue slippers hovered above the ground. She gasped for breath.

"Don't make me kill you both."

"She's just a baby."

"That hasn't stopped me in the past." Her horror at the admission was overshadowed as his iron grip tightened. Neva's hands groped at his leather clad one, attempting, but failing, to loosen the crushing hold.

"I will not. You can kill me if you must, but spare my child! Please! Don't hurt Athara, I'm begging you!" The desperation that crept into her voice would have been enough to cause any mortal man to pause, but he was more machine than human; much less compassionate. His mask dipped even closer. Her air supply was nearly extinguished.

"I'd have never expected you to beg. If you won't divulge this information, you will die." She gasped out her response.

"I—will—never—tell—you!"

"Wrong answer." Neva cried out with the last of her air as a searing pain ripped through her chest. The last thing she saw was a vivid red glow and the last thing she heard was the familiar hum of a lightsaber.

As her body hit the ground, Lord Vader was already moving away. The cry of the infant held his attention. Deviating from his course, he ducked into the nursery. All at once his twisted and fractured soul was assailed by nearly forgotten memories and abandoned dreams for a future he'd been robbed of.

Painted with warm colours and decorated with soft, plushy furniture, the room was a vision of innocence. The rainbow of pastels circled around an antique cradle hidden by a pale, sheer curtain. Walking up to it, he gazed through the gauzy fabric, his saber still in hand, his mechanical breathing the only sound other than the tiny whimpering.

Standing beside the crib, he couldn't stop looking at the tiny being sheltered within. Small and helpless, the little baby lay on her back, tears streaking her delicate face. Looking down at her he felt his heart constrict with a feeling he had not felt in a long time. He had almost had this; he had almost been a father. He immediately felt the anger, the hate and the jealousy for his primary quarry rise up to possess him yet again. How could he have this? How could he have this while it was ripped from my grasp? What did he do to deserve this?

What did I do? It was a sudden, quiet thought, one that caught him completely by surprise in its strength and sincerity. He felt the rents in his shredded heart twinge, an agonizing reminder that, despite everything, it still beat. The child before him began to wail again, the pathetic pleas coursing through the room. Something woke within him at the beckoning of that small voice. The baby called to him in a way he couldn't explain. Stepping back, he looked at the saber in his hand. He activated the blade. Raising it, ready to strike, he stood there for what seemed like an eternity.

The saber snapped off.

Stepping forward, he brushed aside the breeze-like curtains and reached into the cradle. Picking up the crying infant, he cradled the tiny life in his arms with a tenderness he had thought he'd lost. The baby looked up at him, her tears ceasing; she seemed to gaze right past the mask and into his soul. He ignored the prickling sensation behind his eyes, blue once again for the first time in what seemed like a lifetime. The dark blue-gray eyes meeting his made up his mind for him.

Reaching out with his feelings, he brushed up against the tiny Force signature, reassuring the infant in his black-clad arms. She didn't seem frightened of the deep voice that was ushered out of the respirator.

"I will take care of you now."

The troopers waiting outside could only wonder why their commander was taking the time he was. They had heard the usual, and some even slightly unusual sounds; a woman's voice followed by the expected sound of her death, the all too familiar lightsaber, and, oddly, the cry of a baby. Then that sound too had fallen silent. The sight that awaited the troopers—now designated Stormtroopers due to the growing number of non-clones in the ranks thanks to the Emperor's decision to phase out the use of clones—was not unusual in the least.

They only had to wait patiently for a few more minutes before their commander joined them out in the bright sunlight and clear air. The day seemed to completely ignore the events within the columned little house.

The Emperor's Right Hand wrapped his cloak tighter around himself as he strode to his waiting shuttle. As expected, he did not say a word. The troopers didn't need orders; they knew the Dark Lord's expectations by now.

As he climbed the ramp, none of the troopers made a move for fear of attracting the Sith's displeasure. One of the troopers, however, was about to get the surprise of his life. Nothing could prepare him for what he was about to see.

Trixton Jengal stood stock still like the rest of his comrades, and like the rest, he could feel the dark power that emanated from the Dark Lord as he passed. But as the Sith strode by the nervous trooper, his long black cloak shifted, revealing a small, pale yellow bundle. However, that's not what really startled him. What startled him was the tiny hand that had escaped from the bundle. As the cloak shifted again, the curious bundle the Dark Lord held was hidden from sight.

No doubt feeling his surprise, the Sith stopped, further readjusting his robe. He then turned to Jengal. Straightening even further, the trooper awaited what was sure to come, sweat pooling on his forehead. He had most definitely seen too much. This was very bad. The lifeless artificial sockets stared back at him, assessing him. It took all of Trixton's self control not to start at the reverberating voice that came from the expressionless mask.

"You, Lieutenant, what is your name and operating number."

"Lieutenant Trixton Jengal, operating number AP-8725, Nubian Division, Milord." It was all Jengal could do not to let his voice betray his fear.

The terror emanating from the trooper was intense. Vader nodded as he mulled over the information. The Nubian Battalion was one of the first completely non-clone battalions from the Core Planets, based on the planet Nubia, hence the name. They were a loyal and dependable squadron, and Vader had heard of Jengal. He was a respected, competent and highly loyal trooper. The Dark Lord's respirator was the only sound in the morning air. It was all Trixton could do to keep from trembling in fear.

"Do you have a family, Lieutenant?" Trixton's terror multiplied hundredfold, and for a moment he feared he was about to pass out. He had heard rumours of entire cities being vaporized on account of this commander's displeasure.

"Y-yes, Milord." Trixton managed to stammer. The Dark Lord was silent for another moment, the sound of his breathing causing Trixton's own breath to catch in his throat. The Dark Lord finally spoke.

"Come with me."

A/N: Thanks for reading!

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