Marked by the Empire (Anakin/Vader x Mandalorian Reader)

Chapter 1. The Selection Ball

**Damn he's fine...anyways for the time being he has his yellow sith eyes, (Y/n)/Vader's thoughts are the words with the slant - He isn't wounded or burned in this story besides the metal hand, he never had a relationship with Padme and this is after ROTS - 2.3k words**

(Third person POV)

Coruscant at night was a world of glass and fire. The towering skyline flickered with lights, each building vying for attention like a million stars trapped beneath a fragile veneer.

From high above, the Imperial Palace glimmered like a crown resting on the forehead of the sprawling city-planet, illuminating the vast darkness with an insidious elegance.

Searchlights sliced through the night, piercing the black sky, while airspeeders hovered in carefully orchestrated formations, their engines humming softly in the charged evening air.

Stormtroopers, rigid and precise, lined the outer walls, an impenetrable barrier, their white armor gleaming with an otherworldly sheen that betrayed the menace beneath.

Inside?

A ball.

But not just any ball.

This was a selection—a gathering both opulent and dangerous. The galaxy's most notorious man—Darth Vader, the Emperor's enforcer, a weapon forged in the fires of war—was expected to choose a woman.

Not merely a consort, but a mate. A vessel meant to carry forth a future heir and secure a legacy for the Empire. It was sinister and calculated.

Palpatine's idea, of course.

Vader hated it.

He stood at the main entrance, unmasked and armored though draped in formal black robes that swirled around him like the abyss itself.

The prosthetic gloved arm beneath his sleeve tapped a soft rhythm against the polished railing, a restless beat to accompany the cacophony of laughter and chatter that filled the grand ballroom.

He watched through narrowed eyes, exuding a chilling presence; his towering figure imposing and unwavering.

Women from every Core World and noble sector danced, flirted, and laughed too loudly, all casting their eyes upon him, like prey attempting to capture the gaze of a predator.

Each wore ornate gowns and glittering gems, their intentions as clear as the pale moonlight streaming through the crystal chandeliers. And he hated them all—each simpering smile and flirtatious glance only reminded him of the shackles that bound him to Palpatine's will.

Until she walked in.

****

(Y/n's POV)

I ran my fingers through my (h/l) curled (h/c) hair as I stood before the mirror, staring at my reflection. I could feel the flame of determination burning in my eyes. The black gown I wore was sleek and sharp, with an elegant slit that revealed my toned leg, while layers of fabric draped delicately, giving me freedom of movement.

I had a vibroblade hidden along my thigh and another concealed at my back; the cold metal was a constant reminder of my purpose. Stilettos? An absurd thought; those were for women seeking to impress. I had come with a different goal in mind, but I had to wear them for show—my façade of elegance would serve my strategy well.

I was here to kill.

Well. Not exactly.

This was a recon mission.