Dagobah was a desolated swamp planet, dark and stifling, the air of which Leia had trouble breathing.

Han and Chewbacca had experienced many difficulties to find a place to land the Falcon safely: the ground was too humid, or there were too many trees in their way. Finally they'd found a small spot next to a lake, a perilous place, only attained thanks to both pilots' expert manoeuvring.

Leia set a foot in the mud, careful not to slip. She secured her grip on her blaster, but there was no threatening being in sight, only bugs and snakes.

"Are you sure this is the right place?" Han asked from behind her.

She turned around to watch him, but didn't answer at once. She had been certain before, but now, seeing this inhospitable landscape, she wondered if she hadn't made a mistake.

At the same time, something was telling her she wasn't wrong. This was a perfect hiding place. Nobody would ever think to come search for a Jedi Master here, in the middle of nowhere, in such an inhospitable environment.

Her boot caught a pond of water, splashing around. She brought her blaster up.

Behind her, Chewie growled. "Well, pal, you could stay on the ship if the climate didn't suit you, nobody forced you along for the ride," Han answered him. "It would have been good not to leave her alone, too. Now she's gonna be all infested with snakes. I don't understand why you so insisted to come."

Chewie answered, but Leia stopped paying attention to their bickering, keeping all her senses in alert. She could only hope she was going in the right direction; she was walking completely blindly, on a hunch. The atmosphere here was stiffening, and she couldn't help but feel tense.

She stopped, straightened, looked around, her hands still firmly clenched on her weapon. Something was watching her... she could feel prying eyes burying into her.

Only then did she see the little green creature, a stick in his hand, looking like a troll or a fairy mocking her.

"Away with your weapon," he softly said. "I mean you no harm."

She assessed the threat the creature posed, then lowered her blaster and put it back in its holster as Han and Chewie came on her level.

"I am Leia Organa," she replied, for politeness' sake. She was somehow certain the creature knew who she was; but she didn't know his name, and for all her diplomatic training, she felt completely out of her depth. "Who are you?"

The little creature didn't answer her. His gaze was now set on her companions, a wistful light in his eyes, even though nothing in his posture had changed.

Getting past both Han and her, Chewie took a step forward and knelt in the mud, extending a hand to the creature with a friendly growl. He took the Wookiee's much bigger paw in his three-fingered hands.

"A long time it has been, Chewbacca," he said. "Glad am I to see you well."

An incredulous Han stepped forward, throwing a wide-eyed look at his first mate, who made the introductions. "What are you saying, Chewie – you know this guy? A Jedi – this is Master Yoda?"

Leia's eyes widened, but she didn't comment, finding Yoda's eyes set on her again.

"Come," he said. "Little time have we, and a great deal to discuss."

They followed him on a dark and moist path to his hut, a tiny thing made of mud, branches and leaves. What a misery, Leia couldn't help thinking, to have to retreat here after knowing the grand columns of the Jedi Temple. She had only seen the site from afar during her stays on Coruscant, but she remembered the images her father had shown her, the sense of profound majesty coming from the place, even sullied and destroyed as it was now. At the present time, nothing remained of this building of beauty, nothing but ashes and pain. Leia's heart clenched, knowing the feeling intimately.

"On the future, you must look," Yoda said to her. "For always in motion is it; the past, set in stone remains."

She nodded, a little peeved by his apparent ability to read her mind. All together, they entered the hut; the four of them barely held together in it, and Chewie in particular was having trouble avoiding to bump into the walls.

Yoda served them a strange kind of green soup, that Han watched dubiously and Chewie swallowed without a problem. Leia took it politely and held her breath as she put the spoon in her mouth. Thankfully, it tasted a lot better than it smelled.

"Master Yoda, I will be direct with you," she said. "I am the bearer of bad news. We need your help. Our friend, your student, Luke –"

Yoda's expression darkened.

"Know I do, what young Skywalker has become," he cut her off. "Too early he rushed to confront his enemy. Corrupted him, Vader has."

Leia frowned.

"Luke was captured, but there is still hope," she said. "I trust him. I know he won't betray us. But we need to rescue him."

Yoda looked down, tapped on the ground with his walking stick.

"Nothing for him I can do. Lost he is, to Vader, and the dark side."

Leia couldn't believe her ears.

"You would just give up on him?" she replied. "He is still alive, probably suffering. He has always been loyal to us; I refuse to abandon him to his fate without even trying..."

"And what would you do, hmmm? Rush to Vader, like him? Much good it did."

Leia looked down and took a deep breath, trying to reign in her helplessness. She knew she stood no chance against Vader, knew the probability of their mission being successful was minimal. With the dire defeats the Alliance had suffered, they really couldn't afford it. But the thought of leaving Luke in Vader's hands, subjected to whatever cruelties he had in store for him...

"That is why I and the Alliance need your help. You were once the head of the Jedi Order. If anyone has enough power to vanquish Vader and help overthrow the Empire, it's you."

Yoda looked at her, watched her for a moment, then sighed.

"Old and sick, I have become," he confessed, his voice lower. "No longer strong enough am I to fight. But to teach... yes, teach I can."

Leia's brow furrowed.

"Teach...?"

"Yes, yes," Yoda said. "The ways of the Jedi you learn. Our last hope, you are."

She stared at him and let out an incredulous laugh. For the life of her, she couldn't picture herself as a Jedi.

"Me?" she said. "Master, I'm sorry, but I can't. I have responsibilities to the Alliance. I am not Luke. I don't have his powers..."

"So certain are you?" Yoda said. He poked her with his stick. "Resisted Vader twice you have. Strong in the Force, you are; disciplined, and dedicated. A good Jedi you would make."

She opened her mouth, closed it again, for once at a complete loss for words. She exchanged a look with Han and Chewie, who both looked as surprised as she was.

But already the idea grew on her. Perhaps it wasn't such a bad plan after all. The Alliance needed all the advantage they could have; a Jedi's powers certainly would help them get rid of Vader.

She felt like she was betraying Luke... but Yoda was right. As things were, they stood no chance of successfully rescuing him. She had to focus on what she could do; for now, she could only pray for him to stay strong, and train to become capable to save him.

"All right," she said, praying her friend would forgive her. "I will learn what you can teach me."

The Jedi nodded, with a small, satisfied grunt.

.

Luke absently tugged on the collar of his shirt, trying to get the uncomfortable fabric to loosen. After his apparent defection, Vader had moved him in fancier quarters and insisted he put on an Imperial uniform, albeit one without rank insignias or code cylinders. Luke hadn't protested, but he hated it. Black on him was so severe. It made him seem older and more burdened, his blue eyes cold, his skin even paler than it already was from the lack of sleep and appetite he'd been suffering from ever since his capture.

It made him look too much like his father for comfort.

Luke repressed a shudder, trying to summon some confidence. He couldn't show the slightest sign of weakness.

This was it, the moment he had feared so much: he would be taken to the Emperor. It was a wonder Vader had taken his betrayal of the Rebels at face's value, one Luke still had trouble believing. He doubted the Emperor would be so complacent. He would most certainly be suspicious of his sudden change of heart... and for a reason. Luke needed to be extremely careful. His smallest misstep could be his undoing.

Yet despite all his reasoning and preparation, the thought of being Vader's son still sent shivers of disgust down his spine. The black outfit didn't help. It mocked him, fed his fears with a scent of destiny.

None of that mattered. He wouldn't turn to the dark side, he would never become like him.

As if summoned by his sombre thoughts, Vader's dark presence pressed against his mind, announcing his coming. Luke buried his worries deep inside him. His father – and he had to get used to calling him that – could never know of them.

Luke didn't start when his door swished open.

"It is time, my son."

Luke swallowed, trying not to show his irritation at the address. Vader practically only called him that these days, eager as he was to claim him, to prevent Luke from forgetting where he came from. As if Luke could ever forget the horror of hanging from that gantry, his wrist on fire, as his entire world was shattered with four little words...

Vader might be his kin, but he had never been kind.

He turned around and took a step forward, towards Vader and the door. Vader met him halfway, lifting his hands to straighten Luke's collar, and the young Jedi did his best to conceal the shiver that went through his spine at having his hands so close to his throat. Then Vader guided him outside, now holding him by the shoulder.

Luke took a deep breath. There was no turning back.

He was silent as Vader led him to the shuttle. He buckled himself in without a word, looked quietly as the ship departed and the buildings of the city grew bigger any minute. Despite the lack of shackles on his wrists, his stomach was roiling as though he still was a prisoner.

They landed on the platform outside the palace. Luke followed Vader through many corridors, doing everything he could to remain calm until they arrived in a vast, dark chamber.

Luke shuddered as soon as he entered, ill at ease. Long and crooked shadows filled the room, licking at him like claws wanting to claim him. But what was at work here was more sinister than tricks of the light. It was cold and oily, wrapped itself around his heart and bled irrational anxiety in it. Luke resisted them, pulled his defences tighter around him.

In the middle of the room were stairs leading up to a throne, which was turned away from them. They walked up a few stairs, then Vader knelt. Luke hurried to do the same, moments after his father. He kept his head down, his heart hammering as he waited for the Emperor to greet them.

The silence was deafening. Through it he heard the chair roll around quietly, felt the Emperor's piercing gaze on them.

"Young Skywalker," he finally said. "I have been looking forward to meeting you."

His voice was low and raspy, no louder than a whisper, but all the stronger for it.

Luke swallowed. Knowing what he was expected to answer didn't make it easier to say the words out loud.

"I know... master."

A spike of delighted surprise in the Force. There was a rustling of cloth as the Emperor rose, came closer at a leisurely pace. Luke had to refrain from looking up.

"It seems congratulations for this quick success are in order, Lord Vader."

He was talking of Luke as if he weren't just there, kneeling at his feet, but there was no mistaking the dark triumph in the Force swirling possessively around him. Luke wanted to swat it away, to shrug it off him, but he forced himself to remain still as a statue.

"The shock of learning the truth, doubtlessly," Vader replied. "Obi-Wan lied to him about his ancestry."

Despite the monotonous tone of the vocoder, it was impossible to mistake the rage in his words.

"Did he?" the Emperor asked, but he sounded distracted, uninterested. Coldness wrapped itself closer around Luke, probing, and he knew the question was directed at him.

He swallowed. This was his first test. He had to make it convincing, to prove his goodwill to the Emperor beyond a doubt and make him believe he had turned... Yoda's words came back to him. Anger, fear, aggression. The dark side of the Force are they.

"Yes," he hissed. But he knew feigning anger wouldn't be enough. Sending a silent apology to his departed mentor, Luke thought of how much he resented Ben for leaving him to face Vader unaware, for concealing this essential truth from him, letting him discover it from his enemy. He projected these emotions into the Force.

"He told me Lord Vader had killed my father so I would avenge him. He set me up to murder my own father," he spat, a repressed tremor in his voice.

I know what I have to do, Ben. I'll make you proud.

Two fingers settled under his chin and Luke raised his head, finding himself looking into the Emperor's yellow eyes. He held his gaze, careful to keep his shields tightly up.

"Yes..." the Emperor whispered, the barest hint of a satisfied smile on his lips. "You have much anger in you."

Luke restrained a shiver as the Emperor raked an eager, hungry gaze over him.

"The question is, what does it want..."

"To serve you, master," Luke lied through his teeth. "I have been kept from my destiny for too long. I want to learn about the dark side of the Force and its power."

He stared straight at the Emperor, challenging him to look him in the eye again. The Emperor crossed his gaze, an undecipherable glint in his pupils. Thin, light fingers moved up into Luke's hair and tilted his head backwards; Luke swallowed, but didn't resist his touch.

"And powerful will you be, son of Vader."

There was a breath of cold air against his mind, an icy tendril slithering for entrance, so subtle Luke doubted he would have felt it with any less training. His first reaction was to clam his shields up even tighter, shaken by the mere attempt to invade his privacy.

Gold shimmered in the Emperor's eyes, and Luke understood his mistake. The Sith Master would accept nothing but Luke submitting to him completely. That meant welcoming him even in this most intimate part of himself, showing him his deepest feelings and most prized memories.

But he couldn't let him discover his plans, couldn't lead him to Master Yoda...

He was trapped. There was no telling what would happen to him were the Emperor to doubt him... and yet his thoughts themselves were incriminating...

He had no choice. He would have to try it all.

Swallowing his revolt at what he was preparing to do, he buried all suspicious thoughts deep inside him, in the most hidden part of his mind. He surrounded them with intimate yet benign ideas, focused on what he knew the Empire knew of him, on his desire to learn about his father and the shock of the revelation at Bespin. Then, slowly, fighting with himself, he closed his eyes and lowered his outer shield.

Immediately the Emperor invaded his mind. Had Luke not paid attention, he probably wouldn't even have felt him enter, so subtle were the wreaths of smoke pervading the frontiers of his thoughts. But now there was no turning away from the nauseating sensation. His dark presence was coming from everywhere at once, tracing twisting and contorted ways between his memories. Tentacles wrapped possessively around them, smearing them.

Luke fought his disgust as much as he could. In response to the intrusion, he did his best to project submission and eagerness, thought as much as he could of wanting to learn this forbidden power. He summoned all his frustration, all his questions without answer. Atop it all he focused on Obi-Wan's betrayal again, the confusion and disappointment he had felt when discovering his lie, this gaping wound he hadn't expected to feel so raw but which now served him well.

He hadn't realised it before, but what he'd just said was true. Ben hadn't trusted him enough to confide in him that the enemy they were fighting was his own father. He had known how much Luke idolised the man, and still he said nothing. Hadn't he considered how devastated Luke would be, if he learnt afterwards that in seeking to avenge his father, he had ended up killing him? Didn't Luke have the right to make that choice?

Did he intend to tell Luke at all?

Finally, after what seemed forever, the Emperor withdrew. His hand left Luke's face as well, and the young man looked down, fighting not to show his relief. His breath came more easily now that the invasion had stopped. His heart was drumming in his throat, his stomach twisting, and a headache was forming between his temples. He balled his hands in fists to keep them from trembling.

These emotions were just a sham, only there for the Emperor's sake. Luke had forgiven Ben. He wasn't going to turn.

"Rise, young Skywalker," the Emperor said, and Luke obeyed, his featured schooled in the most neutral expression he could. "You must be tired after your long journey. My guards will attend to you and show you to your quarters."

He gave Luke a smile meant to be benevolent, but which made the young man's skin crawl. At a gesture of his hand, two of the red-robed men who had been silently standing around the door moved forward.

"Thank you, master." Saying these words after the violation he had just experienced made him want to throw up. But he couldn't express it, couldn't let out the scream building up inside his chest. He bowed again, just to make sure to look subservient enough, then he followed the guards out of the room, keeping his pace steady and slow despite his eagerness to be out of here at last.

There was a moment of silence after the boy's departure. The Emperor remained quiet, contemplating, while Vader still knelt before him. Around both Sith, the shadows slowly spun, brushing them, whispering to them.

"What do you think of this, my friend?"

Vader stood and looked at the door through which Luke had left, crossing his arms.

"He is still young," he rumbled, "but with the proper training, he will be powerful."

"He is not to be trusted."

Vader turned towards the Emperor, trying to decipher his expression. But his face was deep into the hood, and the shadows covered it, preventing Vader from seeing him.

"How so?"

The Emperor turned towards him.

"He is skilled at shielding," he answered. "But I could feel scheming from him. I do not think he has fully turned."

"If he hasn't, he will," Vader assured him. "I will make sure of it."

The Emperor nodded in his hood.

"Yes... I believe it possible. We should better hope he will open himself to the dark side, for his own sake."

A stone fell on Vader's guts at the unspoken threat.

"I have no doubt of it," he said.

"Good." The Emperor leant on his cane, more out of habit than anything else, Vader suspected. They were the only ones in the room, and Vader knew how little he needed it. "Is he the only thing you have brought back from your journey?"

Vader tightened his fists, wondering how the Emperor knew of his failure to capture the princess, the smuggler and the Wookiee.

"The administrator of the facility was a traitor. Skywalker's friends managed to escape with his help. I could only capture the droids they were travelling with."

He expected the Emperor to express his disappointment in him, and was surprised when he smiled instead.

"They will be very useful to us," he said. "Have them brought to him, and make sure they are to record him at any time. This way we will be able to see his real behaviour."

The plan was devious and clever. Vader had never thought of using the droids in this way, but it was an excellent way to discover what his son was really up to.

"Yes, master."

He bowed deeply before exiting the room in turn.

.

Luke's quarters were more luxurious than anything he had ever known. He had been worried, for a moment, that the Emperor had seen through him and was secretly sending him to the cells. As it turned out, he couldn't have been more wrong. He didn't know if he ought to be reassured or unsettled by that.

Of course, the door didn't open when he tried pushing the activation button, as he realised with a flash of panicked anger. A gilded cage, but a prison nonetheless. He shouldn't have expected anything less.

He looked around and took in his surroundings. His quarters were composed of two huge rooms, wider than the living room of his homestead on Tatooine had been, with ceilings so high he thought someone twice his size could stand there without a problem. Tables and chairs of precious wood furnished the first room, as well as a couch and shelves with books; in the middle of the second stood a large bed with many cushions. A desk with a chair had been placed next to the high window, which bore dark red curtains, the same colour as the bedsheets. There was a door in the opposite wall; he supposed it led to a refresher, but didn't open it.

He sat on the too comfortable bed and ran a hand on his face, overwhelmed. Leia would have been more at ease in such an environment than he was...

Luke let himself drop lying on the mattress, finding it even more comfortable than he'd expected. He was so exhausted, and the material of the sheets was so soft, he probably could fall asleep as soon as he closed his eyes. It would be more than welcome after what had just happened.

He let out a deep sigh. The encounter with the Emperor had drained him on every level, and he shivered just remembering it. He still felt that dark power and possessiveness lingering on him, claiming him and promising endless torment if he tried to resist... It was revolting and terrifying. Luke didn't know how he was supposed to deal with that in the long run...

Suddenly he felt very small and helpless, wishing he could just sink into the warm, soft mattress and disappear there forever. The Emperor was so powerful. Against Vader, Luke had already been severely outmatched, barely getting out of the duel alive; he suspected he would be dead, had Vader not wanted to toy with him like an anooba with a piece of meat before subduing him. And he could feel the ruler of the Empire was even stronger... he had only seen him for a few minutes, but it had been enough to be overwhelmed by the sheer blackness he gave off. How could he ever hope to win against him, manage to kill him?

How could he ever kill them both?

No, he was being negative again, Luke realised, distractedly running the back of his knuckles against the fabric of the sheets. The right occasion would eventually present itself... he just had to wait for it, be ready to strike. Hadn't Master Yoda advised patience to him?

He pressed the heels of his hands on his eyes and exhaled again, but the pressure on his chest wouldn't leave. Maybe he should take a shower. He doubted it would help with his headache, but perhaps he would feel less dirty afterwards...

A soft buzzing tore him from his musings, and he sat up. He looked around, wondering what it could be for a moment before realising it had to be the entrance door to his quarters. Luke stood up and walked to the door, intrigued. Who could want to visit him and bother to announce themselves? He was certain neither Vader nor the Emperor would show such respect for his privacy...

Behind the door stood an Imperial officer. Luke's eyes widened when he saw who was accompanying him.

"Sir, Lord Vader ordered these droids be brought to you."

Artoo rolled and gently bumped in his shins, and Luke gaped in surprised delight. His face sobered into concern when he saw the box the officer was carrying, in which a visibly distraught Threepio was making wide gestures. His legs were separated from his body, and his head was put up backwards.

"Master Luke! How wonderful!" he exclaimed. "We had the most awful day!"

Luke thanked the officer and took the droids inside before putting Threepio's box on the table. Artoo followed, tweeting and beeping agitatedly.

"Oh come on, Artoo, you are getting worked up for nothing again. Master Luke is in pristine condition! I am relieved to see you unharmed, sir!"

Luke threw him a weak smile, but didn't correct him, ignoring the flash of pain shooting in his wrist and hand.

"And you are in a terrible state," he said. "What in the galaxy happened to you?"

"Oh! sir, it was a nightmare! I was just walking in this "Cloud City," minding my own business and trying to find the others, who had left me behind once again..."

Luke smiled but didn't answer, and looked down to repair the droid's legs. Threepio kept talking as he worked, and he felt grateful for the sense of normalcy it brought. No matter how dire the situation, you could count on the protocol droid to complain about mundane things in the most dramatic way possible. Granted, what had happened to him was worrying, but Luke was certain he would be able to make him look brand new again.

However, the worries on his mind weren't to be pushed away for long. He was happy to have the droids back, of course; they were a great comfort. But why would the Emperor and Vader want him to have them? He still remembered vividly Vader's threats about what would be done to him if he didn't turn. And the locked door was proof they didn't trust him... so why let Artoo and Threepio near him? They had even put tools in the same box as Threepio was brought in...

And why did Artoo look so tense?

"You moronic tin can, would you stop worrying for a while? I know Darth Vader sent us here, but you can see Master Luke is perfectly fine! Nobody wants him harm!"

Luke frowned.

"What's he saying?"

"The most ridiculous things, sir, as per his habit," Threepio said. "He claims we are still in enemy territory, and you are in some kind of tremendous danger around us. How preposterous!"

Luke frowned as an idea occurred to him. Surveillance. Of course. He should have thought of that earlier. If the Emperor doubted his loyalty and wanted to assess it, watching him in the privacy of his own quarters, when he believed himself alone or surrounded with nothing but friends only made sense.

His stomach twisted unpleasantly, and he felt nauseous again, but he didn't let any sign of his burning anger and disgust show up on his face.

Well then. The game was on. Being on his guard day and night, upholding his lies at every hour didn't sound enjoyable in the least, but he had a job to do.

He forced out a chuckle that he hoped didn't sound too strained.

"Very much so," he replied, before looking down at the astromech. "I am completely safe, Artoo. You have no reason for concern."

Artoo let out an incredulous beep and rolled closer to Luke.

"No, I promise you," Luke insisted. He knelt to come at Artoo's level; never mind that his video sensor would pick him up better, he wasn't supposed to know that...

"I..." He looked away, feigning hesitation. "The Empire is no longer my enemy."

Artoo's small trill denoted confusion, and Luke didn't have to fake the grief taking over him as he closed his eyes.

"Artoo, I decided to work with them," he confessed in a whisper. His throat tightened at the thought that this recording could be broadcasted to the Rebellion. Surely the Emperor wouldn't fail to do that, break all his ties with them... But he had no choice. There was no turning back.

He averted his gaze, unable to look at his astromech when he made such mournful sounds.

"I know, I know. But Ben lied to me," he said, sticking to what he had told the Emperor in the throne room. "Vader didn't kill my father. He... he is my father."

It was the first time he said the words aloud, the first time he admitted to it. It still left a sour taste in his mouth, but was less of an electroshock than it used to, and he wondered what it meant for him. He couldn't deny his accepting the truth must be a good thing... but it felt like betraying what he stood for, anyway.

It didn't matter. He was Vader's son, but he would never submit to him.

As if in response to his thoughts, Vader's presence brushed Luke's mind, announcing his arrival. Luke jumped to his feet as if he'd been doing something forbidden, and immediately hated it. Artoo and Threepio had been brought to him on Vader's order, it was ridiculous to think he'd disapprove of his talking to them.

The door swished open, and the black shape of Darth Vader came in. Luke stood his ground, relaxing muscles he hadn't even realised he'd tensed. Vader looked at the room, at the droids, then at Luke again.

"I trust you have settled in adequately."

"Yes, father," Luke murmured. He disliked how easily the word passed his lips now. A glance at his poor protocol droid, still half dismembered, reminded him of something. "Thank you for letting Artoo and Threepio stay with me."

Vader tilted his head forward in an approving nod.

"They are loyal to you. They will serve you well." There was a moment of silence, and Luke had to make an effort not to shift on his feet as Vader observed him.

"That is not all I came for," Vader continued. "The Emperor has put me in charge of your training."

He unhooked a lightsabre from his belt, and Luke couldn't help recoiling in fear, taking a step back and rising a hand in instinctive defence. Had he seen through him – was he going to – like on Bespin, the heat of the red blade so close to his face –

Vader handed out the hilt to him with a puzzled look. Fighting the embarrassment that heated his cheeks, Luke stepped closer again and wrapped his hand around the cold metal, his prosthetic fingers brushing against his father's.

He turned away in order not to hurt either of them and pressed the activation plate. Bright red sprang from the hilt in an explosive sound, a deadly blade all too familiar to Luke. His heart missed a beat.

"I have been able to evaluate your level when we fought at Bespin," his father said, somewhat clumsily. "Considering the amount of training you have received, your skills are most impressive, but you still have much work ahead of you."

Luke only partially heard him. He distractedly waved the lightsabre in the air, the pressure on his chest growing as he beheld the ominous light, so unlike the clear blue he had lost among the clouds, and which he already missed.

It dawned on him just exactly what he had entered into. This was a weapon of the dark side, a symbol of everything he was standing against. And yet it didn't feel any different from his own blade, only a little warmer perhaps, despite the shadows entwining around it.

Training from Vader. It felt so terribly wrong, and he was feeling more and more ill at ease. For a short moment, he felt like throwing the lightsabre away and refusing the dark side, reclaiming his Rebel and Jedi identity in spite of the consequences. Torture, captivity, and endless suffering sounded safer and more appealing than the perilous bargain he was striking now...

Could he really do this? he wondered, staring at the bloody, blinding blade. Could he really walk the line so closely, like a tightrope walker, without falling?

He needed to. It was his only chance to grow close enough to strike both Vader and the Emperor down.

He turned the weapon off and let his hand fall down.

"You will come for training with me tomorrow at dawn," Vader said. "That is how you will spend your days from now on."

He absently nodded, looking away from Vader. He wished for nothing more than for his father to leave, overwhelmed and still wondering if he wasn't doing a huge mistake. But Vader didn't show any inclination to go away. He hovered in the room, his hands resting on his belt then clutched behind his back, restless.

"I... am glad you made the right choice, Luke," he said. "I am looking forward to teaching you."

Luke looked back at him, surprised by the unexpected confession. His father was being genuine, he realised, baffled. He watched him intently, although the mask naturally gave nothing away of Vader's emotions. But he couldn't return the words. Memories of their former duel still turned vividly in his mind, and he would be lying if he said he didn't dread the thought of facing Vader with drawn blades again, even if it was just in sparring. He couldn't trust him not to slice through his wrist again, or any other of his limbs...

Yet it didn't stop him from wondering. Did Vader somehow care? Could it be that, in his sick and twisted way, his father did have affection for him?

He quashed the thought as quickly as it rose, and the asinine hope together with it. That was the orphan in him talking. It didn't matter. Vader was dangerous, his enemy. Luke couldn't let himself be swayed from his duty.

He stiffly nodded, his discomfort growing at the same time as his father's, the both of them standing straight and silent, without knowing how to alleviate the awkwardness. Then, conceding defeat, Vader finally left Luke alone.

Luke looked down, staring at the lightsabre he was still holding in his hand. The hilt was comfortable, adapted to the shape of his hand and well balanced, but it felt heavy and loaded. Luke still wanted nothing more than to throw it away from him, hating all that it represented.

He should have struck Vader down with it. It would have been so simple, and he wanted to smack himself on the head for not thinking of it while he was in the room with him. Vader didn't object to standing close to him. He could so easily have turned the weapon on and ran him through with it...

No, that was a bad solution. Had he done that, the Emperor would immediately have seen through his intentions. He would have doubled his wariness and his surveillance of Luke, or even worse, would have had him imprisoned. Luke would have seen all his freedom of movement ripped away, unable to do anything against him... Better that he stick to his original plan, that he waited for their trust in him to build up, then struck at the most unexpected moment once they believed they had an ally in him.

"This Darth Vader really is a terrifying man," said Threepio, tearing Luke from his thoughts. He set the lightsabre on the table, and went back to repairing him. It felt good, to build and fix something, ward off the projects of destruction overwhelming him most of the time. As he dove into his work, his confidence came back, his mind grew clearer again.

He could turn the training with his father to his advantage. He knew he was still far from mastering the lightsabre, and he needed to practice his combat skills. This was the perfect opportunity to do that. Not only could he learn from Vader, observe his moves and his technique to apply it in his own, but it also meant he would be close to him, see him on a regular basis and give him plenty of opportunity to carry out a fatal blow. He had to play the long game. It would be a challenge, but at the moment nothing seemed too hard. He promised himself he would keep this confidence and drive.

He would practice; then, when he was strong enough, when both he and the Emperor were persuaded he was on their side, he would strike.