Wards of the Empire: A Star Wars Story
Chapter One
They were presented to him that morning, neatly and coordinatingly dressed in black tunics and slacks. Remnants of sleep washed from their eyes, lashes damp and glistening from a freshly cleaned face, and energy willed into their cheeks. Two small heads at either side of him—one blond, one brunette—stood at the height of his thigh. A boy and a girl. Physically, they were carbon copies of their father and mother, respectively. In spirit, the reverse was true. They had willingly and tearlessly taken his hands and left without a retreating glance towards their caregivers, having been prompted with the circumstances and knowing that there were to be no complaints.
"The Emperor will see you now."
He felt the boy's grip on his glove constrict. The girl's tensed, but never tightened, even as they began the journey down the dark catwalk. The rise of stairs shelved a black trapezoidal throne and a cloaked figure that the children had only heard of until now.
He knelt before the Master. The children let go of his hands and promptly bent to one knee, bowing their heads in respect, as they had been taught.
"My Master, I present to you, my children. Luke Skywalker, Leia Skywalker."
"Master," echoed the small voices of the two children.
"You may rise, Lord Vader. Children."
Vader returned to his feet and the twins followed suit. The Emperor rose from his throne, quick waves of blue light flashing off the white-gray, leathery folds of skin on his face as he descended the stairs.
"It is a true pleasure to have the galaxy's most promising youth in my presence," came the Master's gravelly voice. "Step forward, children."
The girl's eyes rose apprehensively towards her father, and the boy's glance fell sideways to see if his sister had complied.
"Do as our Master says," Vader urged them pointedly. The children stepped into the shadow of Emperor Palpatine. Darth Sidious. A smile rose up from his wrinkled cheeks, eying each child—one, then the other.
"The boy is stronger, yes?"
"In a general sense, yes, Master."
A slight flash in the boy's eyes – a pride he would have made vocal in differing circumstances.
"And the girl?"
"The first to display her power."
"At what age?"
"Not quite fifteen months. The boy at twenty-three."
"I see." The Master's back arched forward until his face was level with the girl's. His hand cupped her chin, tilting her face upwards. "Perhaps she takes after her mother in more than looks. Stubborn?"
"Not unnecessarily. She is advanced and wishes to advance further, oftentimes faster than is provided. Academically, they both score above children twice their age."
He lingered on the girl for a moment longer, then when his hand reached for Luke, a second of locking eyes sent the boy retreating to his father's leg with tears streaming down his cheeks. Before Vader could even decide to comfort or scold his son, the Emperor's cackle pounded off the slanting black walls like an avalanche that could cave in on them, crushing them in an instant.
"Daddy, pick me up!" Luke begged.
"Not now…"
"Console the boy, Lord Vader," said the Master. "Let him have one day of consolation. Fear is a powerful motivator. A useful tool. He sees my power, Lord Vader. Intuitive boy. It is a power you will one day possess in some fraction, child."
Vader lifted his son into his arms and reached a hand out to Leia. While the boy cowered in his father's cloak, the girl's dark eyes kept forward, wide and alert, locked upon the figure in front of her, her expression fearful, but fascinated. A black fascination, an intoxicating pull of the darkness, and a horror that rendered her stiff all at once.
"So you've chosen?"
"Yes, Lord Vader, the boy will train under my own…delicate hand. And the girl…I sense a need for a heavier one. I'll leave that to you." The Emperor returned his hand to young Leia's face. "The beauty… Relish that beauty while you have it, child. You see the old, hideous skin I've been encased in, and the scars upon your father's face…" Leia gingerly looked back at her father, and Vader felt his daughter's eyes on the three saber dashes that tainted his complexion. The scars of a deadly battle with a fire that still rose from the ashes of his past during the most restless of nights—the battle in which love and light were lost, the children born, and apprentice conquered master.
"You will have scars too, child," the Master assured her. "Your brother will. If your father and I succeed in any small way, you will both bear the scars of the dark side. And the galaxy will fear the two beastly wards of the Empire."
