A/N: So I was watching the original Star Wars trilogy over the weekend and this idea wouldn't leave me alone. Hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
For Her
Then my father is truly dead.
Those words had cut Darth Vader more than he cared to admit. Even to himself.
His son. My son.
The words had come so naturally to him and he was even aware of a certain pride when he uttered them.
Pride in who his son was: proud of his nobility, proud of how he was a much better man than he had ever been.
Yet for all this he refused to admit that his son was right about him, about everything. He drew on his hurt to fuel his allegiance to the Dark Side.
Pride or no pride, the Emperor could destroy his son and he would just watch.
As he always had.
As he found himself forced to do again.
If he didn't step in soon, his son – Padme's son – would die. Vader reminded himself that he didn't care and forced himself to dispassionately watch his son writhe in agony.
Then it happened:
"Father, please!"
Two words.
Two words from his son was all it took to bring everything flooding back.
I love you.
Ani, I'm pregnant.
Ani, I love you.
Father, please.
He couldn't do it. He couldn't stand idle and watch Luke die.
He did care.
So he did the only thing that he could do.
He saved his son.
He killed the Emperor for many reasons: for his son; for himself.
But mostly, he killed the Emperor for her.