Disclaimer: Don't own Star Wars, too poor to do so.
Giving In
"You cannot hide forever, Luke."
A pause, lasting only a single heartbeat before-
"I will not fight you."
Luke Skywalker hid in the shadows of the elevated platform in the Emperor's throne room. The young Jedi Knight remained still, in fear of being discovered by his father who was currently prowling through the shadows with crimson fire burning from his hand. Above, he could feel the amusement and anticipation of the vile man who'd crushed the galaxy under his bootheel for over twenty-three years of tyranny and oppression.
A flash of anger surged through him, which was quickly picked up by the Emperor's main enforcer.
"Give yourself to the dark side," Vader urged. "It is the only way you can save your friends."
His friends . . .
Luke closed his eyes, trying to focus his thoughts on the strength that they give him; Leia's smile and calm leadership, Han's confident demeanor, Chewbacca's strength, the loyalty of Artoo and Threepio. They were the ones who kept him sane, who kept him anchored in the light and away from the influence of the dark side.
A sudden ache in his mind stirred him out of his thoughts, and he realized with a seizing grip of fear that it was Vader probing him. He quickly tried to keep his thoughts tightly under wrap, but it was too late. Vader had sensed enough to know what he was thinking.
"Yes, your thoughts betray you," Vader purred, latching onto his son's vulnerability. "Your feelings for them are strong. Especially for . . ."
Luke felt his throat constrict, when Vader's voice boomed out his greatest fear. "Sister!"
No! Luke thought in alarm, eyes going wide with fear.
"So . . . you have a twin sister. Your feelings have now betrayed her, too." Vader goaded his son, feeling the spikes of anger though he couldn't make out where it was coming from. "Obi-Wan was wise to hide her from me. Now his failure is complete."
The spikes of anger was now a thundercloud of fury, just waiting to be unleashed. Despite the thin line he was treading, Vader refused to stop but Luke wouldn't give in. He will not give in. He will not-
"If you will not turn to the dark side, then perhaps she will."
Those words, those simple words spoken with such confidence, unleashed the storm built up inside of him. The mere thought of Leia - sweet, proud Leia kneeling before Vader or his Master to pledge her soul to the very thing she was fighting against - awoke something fierce inside him. Something dark and terrible that called for blood.
Vader's blood.
And in a moment of weakness, Luke gladly obliged.
"Never!" Luke screamed in anger as he ignited his lightsaber and rushed at Vader. Sparks flew as they traded blows that struck the consoles beneath the platform, and Luke felt the hate build within him with each passing second. As long as he still had breath, Vader would never touch Leia. He would kill Vader before he'd let that happen.
He kept swinging, forcing Vader to keep backpedaling away from the anger-fueled strikes sent his way. Each strike is powered by a memory buried within Luke's mind that is free for all to see in his most vulnerable state.
When Vader's saber is brought down in a heavy two-handed slash, Luke blocks it with the charred bodies of Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru.
With the empty robes of Ben Kenobi, Luke pushes Vader back, and lunges at him with the last words of Biggs Darklighter.
Forcing Vader to his knees, Luke kept repeatedly smashing his emerald blade against Vader's weak defense, each one containing the screams of Han's torment on Cloud City which only grew louder with each blow before it was powerful enough to knock Vader's lightsaber back long enough for Luke to slash through his right hand, severing it at the wrist.
Vader fell back, a pitiful scream escaping from his vocal-box.
Above him, a murderous-looking Luke Skywalker angled his blade at Vader's throat, enjoying the Dark Lord's struggling form after the years of pursuit and torment inflicted upon him and his friends.
A low cackle echoed in the room, belonging to the shadow making its way down the staircase, a look of pure glee on its ravaged face. "Good! Your hate has made you powerful." the Emperor crowed, noting how the son of Skywalker was still staring at his defeated father. Just one more push. "Now, embrace it. Let it guide you. As long as he lives, your twin sister will never be safe from him."
In that moment, Luke realized that the Emperor was right. As much as he loathed the Emperor for all the horrors he's put the galaxy through, he just wanted him. The son of Anakin Skywalker, not his daughter. If he gave himself to the Emperor, then his twin would be spared from the madman's poisonous touch and could live to fight another day. But Vader wouldn't. If Vader was allowed to live, the Dark Lord would only turn his sights to Leia, the only instrument he could use to destroy his Master and his corrupted son.
And Luke won't let that happen. If it meant giving in to the powers that gave his enemies their strength, then he'll do it. To protect Leia, he'll give in.
Steeling his heart with iron resolve, he raised his lightsaber one last time and brought it down on Vader, removing his head from his body. The Dark Lord's helmet clattered uselessly away, rolling over the edge of the bridge and into the bottomless shaft below.
Luke stood there, pretending to ignore the trembling in his body as he stared coldly at his father's corpse with only one thought going through his mind.
I did that.
He had killed Darth Vader. He had come to this battle station to risk his life to try and bring his father back from the dark, believing that there was still some good left inside of him not corrupted by the Emperor. But he was wrong. Vader was already long gone, leaving nothing but a creature of hate and bitterness that tried killing its own flesh-and-blood just to keep his place at the Emperor's side.
Any feelings of shame and regret was swept away by the comforting current of anger that gave him clarity, and kept him rooted to the here and now.
He turned to the Emperor, who gazed at him with an approving look. "It's done." he said, hooking his lightsaber back to his belt with shaky hands. "Are you satisfied now, Your Highness?"
"Very." the Emperor purred, stepping off the staircase and making his way to Luke. "You are fulfilling your destiny, young Skywalker. Now, kneel . . . and take your father's place at my side."
Luke hesitated, staring at the Emperor with a wary look. "If I join you," he slowly said. "Will you promise to never bring harm to my sister, or harm her physically?"
The Emperor's smile did not waver. "I give you my word," he said with a honeyed tone, placing a hand over his chest. "I will not harm, or influence your twin sister in any way. Her destiny is hers to follow, while yours is now mine."
Flinching at the Emperor's particular choice of words, Luke nodded his head in reluctance. Despite the voices in his head that sounded remarkably similar to that of Ben and Yoda, Luke knelt before the hooded figure, who hummed in approval.
"The Force is strong with you," the Emperor growled, his raspy voice growing an octave deeper at the power of the dark side flowing freely through his ancient veins. "Like your father before you, you shall become a powerful Sith Lord. You have become one with the dark side. Your hands are coated in the blood of the one who sired you, and will be dripping with more to come in your lifetime, young one. You are now one of us, and shall forever be known as Darth . . ."
A pause, a questioning in the Force-
And then, an answer-
Scion.
Darth Scion closed his eyes, and bowed his head in submission. "Thank you . . . Master."
"Rise."
He obeyed, and stood waiting for his Master's command. His Master stared off into empty air for a moment, his gaze directed at a nearby wall and whatever lied beyond it before a look of annoyance flashed across his face. It faded quickly, but Scion could still sense his displeasure through the Force.
"The Rebels have succeeded in destroying the shield generator. No doubt as we speak, their fighter squadrons are beginning their attack on the Death Star's core reactor. You will take Vader's ship, fly to the heart of the Death Star, and destroy any Rebel aircraft that crosses your path. We must move quickly, otherwise the Death Star may be compromised."
Scion pursed his lips, recalling that Lando - the suave, smooth-talking criminal who'd sold Leia, Han, Chewie, and Threepio out to Vader on Bespin - was leading the attack. "It will be done, Master."
Darth Scion, the fourth apprentice of Emperor Palpatine and the second Skywalker to fall to the lure of the dark side, bowed to his new Master, then turned and began his journey to his new destiny. And through the turbulent wave of emotions raging inside him, one thought remained clear.
I'm sorry, Leia. Please forgive me.
The Emperor watched the boy leave, who hadn't bother looking at his father's headless body on the catwalk when he stepped over it. He had to repress a chuckle at that; oh, how the Skywalkers' were all so easily manipulated. Their emotions that gave them strength was also a weakness, one that their enemies could easily exploit to the fullest. Hence, how the Emperor managed to bring the boy's father over to the dark side, and now the boy himself was under the yoke of the Sith.
For a moment, I had feared that the boy might've resisted, the Emperor pondered, making his way up the staircase and back to his throne. Or that Vader had rejected those dying embers of light inside him, and actually kill the boy.
For a moment, they could've destroyed me.
Pausing at the base of the throne, he shook his head vehemently, shaking away any last-minute paranoia with the recent fruits of his success. Besides, even if the boy and his father had tried to overthrow him, they would be no match for the powers of the dark side that he'd possessed. Vader had always assumed that after destroying the Jedi Order that he had simply grown content at the height of the power he was already at, hence why the cyborg spent months - even years, at times - off in the Outer Rim during the Empire's early years, honing his skills by crushing any Separatist remnants, and rooting out any Jedi survivors.
But the Emperor had not been idle; he'd peered into the heart of the dark side, greedily consuming its vast contents and adding more power to his already vast reserves. At this point, Vader was not even worth half of his power in the Force, barely a third at all. And the boy? Well . . . had the boy's father not been so conflicted at the climax of the fight, the boy would've lost, and the Emperor would have two Skywalkers under his thumb.
Oh well, the Emperor shrugged, settling down in his throne. Better to have one obedient attack dog than two are prone to turn rabid when put in the same cage.
He stared out at the viewport displaying the battle raging on, and frowned. He had stepped away for far too long, as what little influence he left behind was falling away to reveal the pitiful sight of the Imperial Navy losing to a rag-tag collection of freighters and outdated vessels, and snubfighters.
He rolled his eyes; once the Rebels were destroyed here, he and Scion would first do a culling of fat within the naval ranks, and branch out to the other parts of the Empire's armed forces from there. The Army, the ISB, even the Inquisitorious would not be safe. Too much has been risked here today, and never again would the Empire fall into such a near-state of vulnerability.
His eyes drifted to the sanctuary moon where the remains of the Death Star's shield generator was most likely still burning. A pretty little jewel, Palpatine reflected. One that remained untouched in the chaotic art of war that was unfolding in its orbit.
A shame that it would have to go, it made for such a nice background to the battle.
He tapped a button on his throne, and was instantly connected to the Death Star's firing room. "Moff Jerjerrod?"
"My liege?"
"The Rebels have destroyed the shield generator." he purposefully ignored the sharp intake of breath on the other line "I have dispatched reinforcements to the Death Star's core reactor, and they will deal with any Rebel fighters that break through our outer defenses."
"Ah . . . very good, Your Highness." Jerjerrod's voice held an inkling of relief to it. "Perhaps I should warn our troops on the moon to begin evacuations imme-"
"That won't be necessary. Turn this battle station onto the Endor moon, and destroy it."
The Emperor sensed disbelief half-way from across the station, and narrowed his eyes. He will not be denied victory when it's so close to his grasp.
"Yes, Your Highness . . . but we still have several battalions stationed there. Perhaps we should hold off for just-"
"You will destroy it!" the Emperor growled, ocher eyes glowing murderously under the shadows of his hood. He reached out with the Force to find Jerjerrod's conflicted mind, and seized it with the dark side, focusing his will into it. He ignored the sharp gasps of pain that came through the other line, as well as the voices of concerns that the Moff's officers were asking their superior if he was feeling well.
As soon as the battle was over, the first of the purging of incompetence in the Empire would be Jerjerrod. Perhaps another cold-blooded murder to fuel Scion's rage once he learns of the sanctuary moon's annihilation.
"It shall be done, Your Highness." Jerjerrod's voice droned, any free will left inside him now gone.
The Emperor smiled, and disconnected the call in satisfaction.
Turning his view back to the Endor moon, he couldn't help but recall the first lesson that his Sith Master had taught him; one that the Emperor considered the most important, as it is what has kept their order alive for over a thousand years. And it would be Scion's first lesson, and his student's first lesson, and his student's student, and so on to a dynasty of Sith that would last for ten thousand years.
The Emperor closed his eyes, and murmured to himself-
Treachery is the way of the Sith.
Leave your suggestions of what 'What-Ifs' you would like to see in this collection. Whether they'd be Canon or Legends.