#cherry (oc)

In the reign of the Galactic Empire, an Imperial outpost was established upon Rhen Var—a desolate world buried beneath endless ice and snow in the Rhen Var System of the Thanium sector, deep within the Outer Rim Territories, not far from the Galidraan system. Word spread swiftly through the frozen city of Nevé, whose already sparse population had little choice but to accept the Empire's arrival. They knew better than to refuse; the very notion of resistance was unthinkable. The Imperials claimed they sought only temporary refuge—to dock, replenish their supplies, and continue on their way. The lie did not survive the day.

By nightfall, columns of stormtroopers marched through the snow, and the city was put to the torch. It hadn't even required an entire battalion to seize Nevé; the operation was executed with terrifying precision. Screams tore through the frigid air alongside the crack of blaster fire. Panicked footsteps crunched desperately across the snow while neighbors, merchants, and familiar faces she had greeted only hours before were reduced to little more than collateral in the Empire's campaign.

She was only seven years old. She remembered the violent rattling of the front door before it finally splintered inward. White armor flooded their modest home, each stormtrooper moving with mechanical efficiency as they flanked into position, surrounding the already terrified family of three. 

She remembered clutching desperately at her mother's clothes with trembling hands, burying her face into her shoulder while her mother pleaded through broken sobs. Her father, strong in every memory she had of him, sounded utterly defeated. She had never heard him beg before and then the words slipped from his trembling lips.

One moment she was wrapped safely within her mother's embrace. The next, she was being pushed away.

Fresh tears came hotter and faster despite the bitter cold, carrying with them the unbearable sensation of being abandoned by the very people meant to protect her. Her small heart splintered beneath a grief she was far too young to understand. A gloved hand settled upon her shoulder, cold and utterly impersonal. She was shoved aside while emotionless voices barked orders for her parents to remain where they stood and through blurred vision and choking sobs, she heard blaster fire erupt behind her and the crying had stopped abruptly. 

She did not dare to turn around. 

Instead, she was escorted through the city she had once called home; a place now reduced to smoke, shattered walls, and broken lives. The grief settled heavily within her chest as she looked upon streets that had once been familiar. The homes stood gutted and broken, doors ripped from their hinges so every resource of value could be stripped away for Imperial use. Each reluctant step carried the crushing realization of what had led her here. 

Her own family had surrendered her and the truth of that tasted bitter enough to make her sick.

She walked because the soldiers forced her forward, moving from one armored escort to the next until they reached an Imperial cruiser. Inside here, the sterile corridors of polished durasteel stretched endlessly before her and every hallway looked identical, every turn swallowed by clinical white lighting until, eventually, she was brought before someone of obvious importance.

His uniform was immaculate. His greying hair framed a gaunt face marked by sunken cheeks, an angular nose, and a posture so perfectly straight it bordered on unnatural. She did not dare to look any longer, fearful for the consequences that could be directed at her. Defeat made obedience effortless when no alternatives remained, and the Empire excelled at exploiting those left with none.

The journey seemed without end. The endless marching, endless transfers from one vessel to another. The cacophony of unfamiliar voices drifting together into meaningless noise that she had long since stopped caring where they were taking her.

It wasn't long before she found herself standing inside another chamber filled with officers dressed in the same crisp Imperial uniforms yet only one figure commanded every eye. A towering silhouette draped entirely in black and this mechanical breathing filling the silence.

Her own breath caught as the atmosphere itself seemed to change, compressing around the towering figure until the air felt impossibly heavy. Though separated by several paces, she felt utterly dwarfed beneath his presence. A suffocating pressure radiated from him—something ancient, dreadful, and impossible to truly comprehend at her young age. When his unseen gaze settled upon her, she had never felt smaller.

"Very well." The deep, distorted voice emerged between measured mechanical breaths. The dark figure turned, long strides carrying him forward as his cape swept behind him with every step.

"Follow, girl." he commands. There was no room for hesitation.

Though the tears upon her cheeks had long since dried, fear had rooted itself so deeply within her that obedience became instinct. She hurried after him, forced to take two steps for every one of his as they traversed seemingly endless white corridors. The ships’ personnel instinctively stepped aside before he even approached, parting without a word until the path ahead lay completely clear.

She needed no explanation to understand that whoever this man was, everyone feared him and she bears no desire to know why.

What transpired afterward placed her fate into far more dangerous hands.

Vader delivered the young prisoner before the Emperor himself, leaving her life or her death to the sole discretion of the ruler of the Empire.

With her head bowed and eyes fixed upon the polished floor, tension coiled around her like a serpent tightening around its prey. Every instinct screamed at her to run, yet she remained frozen in place, as though suspended within the vacuum of space itself—unable to breathe, unable to flee.

The Emperor's presence was unlike anything she had ever known. It was overwhelming, commanding, and corrosive. The invisible weight of it settled over her shoulders until it felt as though she might collapse beneath it.

This moment would remain burned into her memory for as long as she lived. This was the moment she truly encountered the power of the Dark Side.

The Emperor entered her mind with terrifying ease.

He sifted through her thoughts as though rifling through old archives, peeling apart memories both deeply personal and painfully recent. She felt stripped bare, utterly exposed, powerless to stop him as the final moments with her family replayed before her like a cheap holodrama. Their fear, their desperation and then their betrayal.

Every wound was reopened for his amusement. Young, frightened, and hopelessly naïve, she struggled against the intrusion. It only made the pain worse. The violation was suffocating, as though invisible hands were digging through every corner of her mind while she remained fully conscious of it, feeling every offensive and vile touch on her. Every attempt to resist sharpened the agony until she learned the lesson the Emperor intended her to learn.

Resistance only prolonged suffering.

From that day forward she had learned her first of many valuable lessons under the Empire, she embraced the path of least resistance—not out of loyalty, but survival. Even if it meant grinding her teeth until they cracked beneath the strain, compliance became easier than enduring that torment again.

When the Emperor finally withdrew, it felt like breaking the surface after nearly drowning. The ache he left behind lingered deep within her consciousness, throbbing beneath every thought, while her body trembled uncontrollably from the psychic violation. With cold finality, the Emperor pronounced his judgment to the only inhabitants of the room.

She was to become a newly appointed asset of the Empire. She would be housed, educated, and instructed in the inner workings of both the Empire and the Galactic Senate. Her future had been decided without so much as a word from her.

The sentence had been passed and the Empire had acquired another piece to move across its board. An Overseer assigned to the Imperial Senate.

It was better than a death sentence. She repeated the thought to herself over and over until she almost believed it. If she could ignore the truth—that she was no longer a child but a prisoner being carefully shaped into an instrument of Imperial authority, perhaps the sharp edges of reality would dull with time.

And so the Empire continued its reign. Only now, it possessed one more piece to shape, manipulate, and position upon the ever-expanding board of its ever-expanding dominion.