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White, a color of purity, of sanctity, the color to honor those past.
When offered a milk white robe of mourning, he had wordlessly had them burnt with a bolt of lightning from his fingertips and tossed the remains at trash droid.
His elderly aunt Ananta merely tsked at burnt offering, but age and the loss of too many of her kin kept her sharp tongue to herself for once. Instead ordering the retainers to quickly finish their work of preparing Darth Marr’s body and leave her nephew to his watch. Vowrawn had maintained his silence throughout the process as the slaves, priests and embalmers did their work.
Bringing back his husbands carelessly discarded body back to its rightful place within Vowrawn’s ancestral family tomb on Korriban. It had taken several bold bounty hunters, Qet and a dozen of his spies many days and untold credits to find the Empire’s stalwarts defenders body tossed into the swamps, rotting, and gnawed on by lowly beasts.
Zakuul would burn for that insult.
Qet had assured him that Marr’s armor and mask had been recovered intact and firmly on his person even in death. His beloved’s mask had not even been removed for a ceremonial death mask to be made, denying his likeness to all that would follow them into the void.
No.
The old Sith pureblood would heap every honor upon his fallen warrior, but the true face of Darth Marr would be his and his alone to remember. And as Darth Vowrawn’s aged face gazed upon the corpse of a man he had once loved, the Empire’s only defense before the eternal throne, it scrunched in anger and fury. He would see the eternal throne drenched in blood and the new Emperor clad in white that now sat upon it at his feet bleeding and broken. While he swore vows on his husband’s corpse over the hours of vigil as the priests and slaves and kin left him to his hate and sorrow, an apparition stalked a darken corner observing all.
Darius watched as his vengeful lover mourned him one last time, the force trying desperately to pull him away.
Yet even in death he defied the Force’s will one last time.
If only for a moment.
“Khomir.” Vowrawn did not snap his head up, nor did he make a sudden jerking motion. Countless years spent carefully cultivating an image of control and boundless charisma had the last remaining dark councilor to tilt his head ever so gracefully to his left, where the vision of Marr stood, pale, white and transparent.
“Ah Darius! I knew you would come; have you decided to join Gravus and haunt me? Or is my dear brother around? Or a few cousins..or…my…-“ Vowrawn rambled on till a ghostly hand was held up causing the sith’s ramblings to tinker off. “Khomir, the Empire needs you to live…I need you to live, swear you shall survive whatever may come-“
“Darius, they tossed you in the trash.” Vowrawn snarled rage creeping into his voice, but Marr who already feeling himself start to fade away cut his husband off in a cross manner.
“Swear it, swear on the Empire, on our marriage, on my corpse, whatever you value that you will survive Khomir!” a tense moment passed before the old sith responded reluctantly.
“….I swear it Darius…..on you and only you.” He bowed his head to the apparition. Darth Marr was silent for a moment before reaching out to caress a face tendril. “………I must leave, the force is calling me elsewhere.” Marr mummered with a hint of regret, Vowrawn merely chuckled at that. “Even in death still ever dutiful my stalwart defender? Even death herself cannot stop the stubborn Darth Marr from his duties.” The old pureblood chuckled as his lover began to fade away hoping for just a few more seconds. Just a few more.
“ Darth Marr belongs to the Force and Empire in life and death….Darius was only ever yours Khomir.”
And just like that his ghost was gone, only leaving behind the echo of his last words and one very weary sith who felt a slight ping of regret at this one last lie.