Star Wars: The Chosen One || An Anakin Skywalker Story [COMPLETED]

Twenty || The Death Star

Narrator's POV

And just like that, havoc wreaked the Republic.

Just like that, everything fell apart.

Just like that, Darth Demetrious brought the Republic to their knees.

And began her Galactic Empire, with herself as Emperor.

Just... like... that.

Some say it happened so fast; a girl appears from nowhere, threatens to demolish the Republic, then actually does. Who even was she?

But for others, the process was slow, slowly heartbreaking and devastating, watching someone so close to them become so evil, so sick and twisted.

It seemed like so long ago, sweet little Kyla Valero frolicked around the sandy grounds of her home, Tatooine. So long ago. And it seems even longer when Desmond Valero stares up at the night sky, wondering just what is going on out there as he watches the construction of something so evil and powerful, something so massive, sitting out there in space, waiting to take its toll on the rest of the galaxy.

Darth Demetrious was constructing a Death Star.

Nobody knew what it was; just some thing, floating in space like any other planet.

But this, this was different. It was a moon-sized, Imperial battlestation, armed with a planet-destroying superlaser.

The second Darth Demetrious took over the Republic, destroyed the main Senate buildings and left the Temple in minor ruin, but still accessible, she took over the entire army of Clones, not just a portion. With this army, she instructed the construction of the Death Star under the Galactic Empire - something so vile, so horrible, it seemed like something Kyla Valero would never do.

But she wasn't Kyla Valero anymore.

The Death Star had just began its construction around a day ago, and already the progress was astounding. Nobody could argue against it, nobody could do anything about it. Darth Demetrious had taken over everything, leaving people on their knees. She expected highest reign in the galaxy, highest authority, and that's just what she got.

Yet, she wanted more.

She wanted more power, she wanted an... apprentice.

And she knew just who to seek - Anakin Skywalker.

The humongous battleship cruiser Demetrious had taken control of sat outside the construction of the Death Star. From the main control room, she watched the construction commence, an emotionless look plastered to her cold, pale face.

A Clone trooper trots in with a communicator in hand, looking nearly terrified to be speaking to Darth Demetrious. He stutters, "My Lord, we have located Skywalker, as you wished."

She clears her throat and doesn't move. "Where is he?" she murmurs a flat, lifeless tone back to the Clone standing beside her.

"Naboo, My Lord."

Without hesitating, she speaks again. "Is the superlaser active yet?"

"I - I'm not sure, My Lord. I can check up on that if you wish - "

"Yes. I'd like that."

"Um, but, they'd want to know why you request for the laser to be active, My Lord."

She cracks a smirk, the first time she'd smiled at something so wretched in awhile. "Oh, it's simple," she sighs peacefully, "for the destruction of a planet."

"On it," replies the Clone hastily, practically sprinting out of the main control room.

Demetrious' smile fades, continuing to stare ahead at her vast weaponry being constructed in space. It was glorious, from her perspective, but from anyone else's - nothing in the galaxy scared them more.