𝐀𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎

𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄

    The view of the Sith Lord was obscured by the people in front of Astrid. All she saw was the woman's red and wheezing face and the back of Tarkin.

    It surprised Astrid that she didn't feel the urge to help the woman–if anything it made her happy that the woman was going to die after she had hurt her. 

    Soon the woman was dropped to the ground, gasping wildly to regain air in her lungs. She spins around to sit on the ground, facing the Sith and scoots back towards Astrid's seat. The Pagonia had no care for anyone but Vader at this moment.

    Her eyes were glued to his mask. From the shiny reflection of his mask, she could make out herself. She looked good all beaten up. It was sexy. Her mother always scolded her about how cocky Astrid was with her looks and how self-obsessed she could become on certain days, but she couldn't help it. 

    God, she was so out of it right now.

    The Third Sister's voice pulls Astrid out of her mini self-admiring session, "why didn't you kill me?"

    The Sith Lord tilts his head. The lack of emotion on the mask was truly terrifying because you could never tell his next move. "That would be an easy way out. I'm going to make you suffer," and with that, two other people dressed in black drag the woman away.

    "Leave us," Lord Vader says to Tarkin, his mask looking straight at Astrid. The general does, leaving the two alone, locked in a small cell.

    The tension was suffocating, it engulfed and taunted them. They make no move to resolve the tension–the reason why? Lord Vader knew if he was to touch her in any way, he'd hide her from everyone because she was only his, while Astrid was quite literally tied to a chair and in pain.

    "Not to break the silence," Astrid began, tugging on the rough rope wrapped tightly around her wrist, "could you, like, undo these or something?"

    The Sith moves forwards, towering over the chair Astrid was seated on. He leans down, gently placing one of his hands on her shoulder and the other cupping her face, yet he had not made any move to untie the ropes. The feeling of the stiff leather against her face was soothing, it reminded her so much of her lover.

    "Anakin, please," her voice was soft, all traces of humor from before gone. Her eyes pleading for him to undo the restraints, she was tired of this stupid cell.

    The man tenses at the use of his name. He hadn't been called that in ages. His fingers brush through her hair. "Wake up, baby," was all he muttered, but it did the trick.

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𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐤𝐞𝐲 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦

 𝐢 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐥

𝐢 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝!

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