New security features were swiftly implemented, and although he stayed safe Luke couldn't bring himself to relax. He carried out more meaningless tasks as Emperor, adapted to the tighter restriction Vader insisted on without feeling too stifled by it… but one thing he refused to compromise on.
He was enjoying his time with Zev and Leia too much to give it up—and Nova was on his side, so at least he had that. They'd resumed their binge-watching of Crown of Stars—they'd even started watching the spinoff series, Heart of Stars—the week he'd got back to Coruscant after his tour. Leia had taken one look at him, opened her mouth to ask about the... revelation about Luke's parentage—or lack thereof—they'd all seen on the news, then promptly shut it again. They'd operated on an unspoken agreement to not mention politics in these sessions.
It was pretty clear that Luke was having a rough time of it.
But still. Watching holodramas with these two was great for distracting him from... court intrigue, from assassinations, from plans to steal his body and crush his soul—
Until things like this happened.
Zev and Leia were giving him that look again, like it was beginning to occur to them how he hadn't grown up with... normalcy.
"Don't..." Luke rasped, quickly shoving his sleeve back down so they didn't see the scars riddled down his arm. Leia and Zev, probably just on instinct, followed the motion with their eyes and said nothing; his panic had Vader's shadow rearing up in the back of his mind.
Luke did his best to send out clumsy waves of reassurance, of safety, and relaxed as he sensed Vader back down. "Don't..." he repeated, giving them both a wary look.
Leia paused the show. "I'm sorry, Luke," she said, "but I have to ask..." Her eyes traced over his arm again. "Who did those?"
Luke swallowed.
"Was it— was it Vader?" Leia dared to ask. "Does he still..."
He winced, but said, "It was... my f— Palpatine."
There were... two very different reactions to that. Zev, who'd been raised as a loyal Imperial youth for most of his life, shifted uncomfortably, and Luke grimaced at the thought that maybe he didn't want to think about his benevolent god-like Emperor as the rancid bag of shavit that he had been.
Leia, meanwhile... didn't look all that surprised.
She… reached out. When Luke didn't flinch away again, took Luke's arm and traced the fabric of his sleeve, as if she could see the scars underneath. "Do they still hurt?" she asked.
He shook his head. "No—he made sure the pain was never permanent." Some scars were alright, but no permanent disfigurations, no lasting pain, nothing that could irk him or hold him back when he took Luke's body for his own.
Leia frowned deeply, then turned back to the holoprojector. "Well, he's dead now," she declared. Zev, despite his apparent reluctance to speak ill of a deceased emperor, nodded in agreement. His face twisted into something unpleasant when he glanced at Luke's arms—something fiercely unpleasant—then he glanced back at his face and gave him a reassuring smile.
Luke warmed, slightly, as he shuffled closer and put an arm around his shoulders, and he leaned into him in response.
"He's dead," Leia continued, "and we're here. Vader doesn't hurt you, right?"
Her piercing look was impossible to lie to, but she still didn't accept his quiet, "No, he doesn't," for a good few moments before she finally lowered her gaze. She wrapped her arm around him as well; Luke felt like his stuffed bantha, and decided it wasn't an unpleasant feeling.
"We're here now," she insisted. Zev grunted his agreement and Luke laughed, surprised to find himself fiercely blinking back tears. A smile curved his mouth.
"You..." Leia started, then forged on: "You definitely trust Vader?" She exchanged a pointed look with Zev; Luke had no idea what it meant. Or what they might have discussed while he was away. He was hit by intense pang of jealousy for a moment, but forced himself to brush it aside. "If he was your f— Palpatine's henchman, are you sure—"
"He... wasn't kind to me as a child," Luke admitted. It was the first time he'd admitted to someone that since Nova had arrived, and he didn't meet Leia's gaze as he said it. "But I trust him now."
"Are you sure? What do you mean unkind—"
"Leia," Zev said firmly. "Leave him alone."
Leia did not leave him alone. "Do you trust Vader?"
Luke thought of the shattered office—of the man who kept dropping stuffed toys on his bed, because he'd realised that it was a pleasure Palpatine had denied him.
"Yes," he said. Almost unconsciously, he reached out to brush that dark presence he could still sense hovering at the back of his mind. It jerked, surprised and momentarily panicked on his behalf, but when it sensed his... affection, almost, it warmed in confusion. "I do."
Vader would not hurt him. He would not let anyone hurt him. He believed that, he realised.
"Can we get back to watching?" Zev complained, though Luke was pretty sure it was for his benefit. Zev's grasped his arm and squeezed it gently.
Leia just rolled her eyes. "Fine. I'd have thought an army brat would have more patience."
"Oh, you would know all about brattiness, wouldn't you, Princess..." he shot right back.
Luke rolled his eyes as Heart of Stars started playing again but he could barely hear the drama over their bickering. He had to smile.
They cared, he realised. They wouldn't have asked if they didn't care.
He lay his head against Zev's arm; Zev shifted so his arm was around his shoulders.
And on the heels of that last realisation came another one:
He felt, for the first time, safe.
That feeling of safety continued, later, even after they'd both left his quarters and he was half-daydreaming , half-dozing on the sofa. He distantly heard the door open, his Noghri guards bristle to attention and Vader enter, his breathing loud. But he just closed his eyes and smiled.
Vader sat down next to him. "Are you alright, little angel?"
Luke smiled at the name. "Yes," he whispered. "Can— could you sit with me, for a little while?" He blindly sought out Vader's hand and took it, every scar that wound up his arm seemed to burn for a second, but it faded when he breathed out, and Vader curled his fingers delicately around his, as gentle as anything.
"Of course, Majesty," he whispered, and Luke closed his eyes, and lay back, and just... drifted.
He lay there for an indeterminate amount of time before he finally asked the question, thoughts shifting from Leia and Zev to his father to his father's plans with an alarming lack of alarm. That sense of safety, desperate the madman coming for him, was yet to abate; perhaps it was a delusion, but it was a delusion he'd rarely indulged in, so he allowed it for now.
Then he asked Vader, the only one who would know: "How did my father die?"
There was a beat of silene. He sat up, when Vader didn't seem inclined to answer, or perhaps didn't realise what he was asking; looked him in the eyes.
"How did you do it? So many people have tried, and failed, how did you do it? How did he take it? Was there a fight, did he..."
He trailed off, ashamed to even think it.
"He suffered, Majesty," Vader vowed. "I made sure of that. He watched as I cut down his aides, as I cut down his guards, every moment that I advanced. He tried to electrocute me, but I deflected it back at him and made sure he felt it."
Luke winced, but... had to admit to a savage satisfaction at that. Palpatine had electrocuted him before—it was less common than just handing him over to Vader for the dirty work, and was never done to a dangerous excess, but was far from uncommon. The coppery tang of blood in his mouth, the scent of burning hair, smelt like his father's disappointment to him.
"He was a formidable fighter," Vader continued. Luke could almost see two bright eyes behind those eye plates—but they weren't yellow, he noted. Strange... "And the duel was long. But I killed him, in the end."
"And when did he tell you about me?" Luke asked, glancing away.
Vader didn't try to stop him, but he could still feel that intense, basilisk gaze fixate on him as he said, "With his last breath."
"I see." Luke swallowed. "W— why? Did he want to make sure you wouldn't kill me, so that I'd still be alive for him to use?"
"I'm sure that was it, little angel," Vader said quietly. "He... I thought, at the time, it was just to hurt me—I told him that I'd received word that you were dead, and his legacy would be destroyed, but he threw it back in my face. Now, with this knowledge... he may well have meant multiple things by it, but I'm sure that was his primary concern."
Luke took a deep breath, and nodded.
The reminder of how much Vader had hated him still sent a chill of fear down his back—one day he'd realise that Luke was nothing, wasn't worth all this fuss, and his disdain would return—but... for now, he trusted him. Vader... cared about him, in his own twisted way.
Luke did not have enough people he felt he could trust.
"I... understand," he said. "What... what do you think the ritual entails?"
He ducked his head immediately after he said it, but he wanted to know. He needed to know. And Vader was Sith—if he'd heard anything about this, if he knew anything—
"I do not know," Vader replied. "But we have access to many of Palpatine's old resources, in his vaults, here in the Palace. I will research it."
"I want to help," Luke said immediately.
Vader looked at him. "You are not a Sith."
Luke flinched back. "Right. Sorry. I'm not—"
"You are more than worthy," Vader barrelled on fiercely, and Luke stared at him, "but these are Sith holocrons. I fear what I may find in there, and I fear their reaction to someone as g— someone like you may be dangerous."
Luke frowned; folded his arms across his chest. "What does that mean, Lord Vader?"
"Only that you are a remarkable person, especially considering how horribly Pal—" He paused. "How horribly we treated you, and what you were taught. I do not think you want to have any more contact with the Sith than you have already had."
"You're one of the Sith," Luke pointed out.
Vader stiffened. "I am," he said, and said no more than that.
Luke scowled. "I want to help."
"Majesty—"
He glared. "Don't Majesty me. I want to help, Lord Vader. I want to take back control and understand this, so I can better combat it."
They glared at each other for a moment, gazes locked.
"...very well, Luke," Vader finally said, and Luke relaxed into the sofa again. The argument had taken a lot out of him when he was already drowsy, and he found his eyes slipping closed again. "We can look into it tomorrow."
Luke barely heard the gentle words. He just blocked everything out, and let himself drift off again.
Luke had fallen asleep. His head rested against Vader's arm—Vader could feel him. His upper arm was still flesh, underneath the armour, and Vader could feel his son.
He hardly dared to move. Hardly dared to breathe. He did not want to disturb this boy, and he did not want to disturb this moment. Luke sleeping on his like he trusted him.
Luke he knew, somehow, who his true father was.
He wasn't sleeping in a very comfortable position, and Vader knew that. He should rouse him and tell him to retire to his bed if he was so sleepy, but… he was greedy. For a moment, just a moment longer, he wanted to continue to feel his little angel.
Then the door slid open.
Sabé paused in the doorway, watching them both, and Vader would've felt self-conscious, but... he didn't. He barely glanced at her—she looked so much like Padmé in that overly-fancy blue nightgown, it hurt—before tilting his mask down to look at Luke again. He'd shifted on Vader's arm at one point, gold hair spilling across his sleeve and armour like sunlight, and his face looked... at peace.
Luke's impassive politician's face was impeccable—but Vader had spent a lot of time studying him these past few months. He couldn't help but notice, and worry about, the faint anxiety lines carved into his forehead, the constant furrow between his brows, his clenched jaw. In sleep, that was relaxed, and he looked...
Young.
He looked so, so young.
He was so, so young.
"You should get him to bed," Sabé said quietly, and he hated her for it. "Or he'll be uncomfortable when he wakes up."
He couldn't be his usual intimidating self, not without disturbing Luke, but his finger sprang out to point at her. "You—" he hissed.
She stepped forwards, her pale blue gown swishing around her. "I know," she said, smiling. She looked at Luke's sleeping face again. "Trust me, I know. But Luke will be uncomfortable when he wakes up."
And Luke was what was important. They both knew that.
So reluctantly—painstakingly reluctantly, and gently—Vader shifted and hoisted Luke into his arms. Luke's head lolled, forehead pressing against the corner of Vader's chest plate, and his heart contracted in a way that surely couldn't be healthy.
Sabé followed him through the door to Luke's bedroom, pushing aside Luke's bantha and colo claw fish and nexu so Vader could put him down peacefully, then brushed a lock of hair out of his face.
"He's a good kid," she murmured.
"He is perfect," Vader replied. She smiled faintly at him—it was not difficult to hear the adoration in his voice.
"He told me that you didn't know," she continued, creeping towards the door so as not to wake Luke, "about Palpatine's plan."
Vader hesitated, then followed, shutting the door quietly behind him.
"I did not," he said. "He never told me anything of this power, and I will do anything to protect Luke from it."
"I know," she replied.
He studied her for a moment. "Luke wants to help me look into Palpatine's vault," he informed her. "And look through the Sith holocrons. I do not think this will be appropriate or beneficial for him—some things he may find will be... extremely disturbing."
"Then tell him that."
"I tried."
"Then tell him again," she said. "And ask him, on your own behalf, to refrain. He may back out of it himself anyway—he probably only wants to investigate the Sith so that he feels in control of things, rather than to leave all control of the fate of his soul up to you. He does not want to involve himself in the Sith at all—not in their training, and not in their philosophy."
"That is the problem," Vader got out. "If he involved himself in their training, he would be better defended. An untrained Force-sensitive, that holocron said, is easier to possess than a trained one."
"Luke wants nothing to do with the Sith."
"He must be trained."
He did not like the look that Sabé gave him, then. "The Sith are not the only practitioners of the Force in the galaxy."
He whirled on her, finger jabbed in her face, towering over her, in the middle of Luke's comfortable sitting room. "What," he snapped, "are you implying?"
She did not back down. Of course she didn't. "Get Luke trained," she said, "by a Jedi."
He scoffed. "No."
"Luke—"
"The Jedi are weak, dying. There are none around powerful enough to teach him, and none I would trust with my son. They would simply take the opportunity to assassinate the leader of the Empire they loathe so much, and I will not risk him like that."
"A Jedi would not," she shot back. "And they are still very much alive, I..." She trailed off.
He gave a barked laugh. "I knew you had Rebel ties," he sneered.
"If you are implying—" She glared. "I am not here for the Empire, or a Republic. I am here for Luke."
"And that is the only reason you are still here," he informed her coldly. "Take my word for it."
"And take my word for it, Anakin," she snapped, "that Jedi training is Luke's best chance. Are you going to sacrifice your own son on the altar of your hatred for them?"
Vader just stared at her.
If he killed her, Luke would never forgive him.
Luke would never forgive him.
Luke would never forgive him.
He just turned on his heel and marched away.
The antechamber to Palpatine's vaults was lined with shelves, each stacked to the brim with trophies. Luke wasn't quite sure what he was doing there, just standing, staring, shivering. It was cold in here, of course—this was the domain of a Sith—but somehow, just the entrance to the vault made him uncomfortable already.
These trophies symbolised his previous political or military victories. He knew what those victories were. He'd been drilled on them incessantly. And he wasn't sure if it was more soothingly repetitive or upsetting that when he passed his eyes over the shelves, he automatically recited their histories to himself under his breath.
But, of course, the door to deeper into the vaults, where the Sith holocrons and artefacts lay, had to be opened by a Sith wielding the dark side. So while Vader summoned his terrible power and the door screeched, metal Imperial cogs turning, Luke had no choice but to distract himself by looking around at the artefacts. There was only one he didn't know the meaning behind—a primitive looking Tatooinian pendant or amulet—he realised.
A flagstone from the Jedi Temple's council chamber, bearing their insignia, now scarred with strokes of Vader's saber. A traditional brooch from Alderaan, typically worn by the queen. A recording of the moment Luke's mother had led a vote of no confidence in Chancellor Valorum and another of the moment Palpatine had made his speech elevating him to Emperor. A small Shoto lightsaber that he'd taken from the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order, Yoda, after he won their duel.
Luke knew them all, knew his father's victories, his glories—had always known that he was unbeatable.
Looking at them now made him sick to his stomach.
The necklace was the one thing that had never been explained to him, and he had never dared to ask. So he fixed his eyes on that as Vader finished with the door.
It was wooden. It had symbols carved into it that Luke didn't know. It was on a string, not a chain.
Yet it was placed in the middle of its own shelf—an area of significant importance.
Luke moved towards it, even as the heavy vault door swung open. Palpatine was not here to punish him, and, as his heir, as the Emperor, all of this belonged to Luke anyway… but even then he hesitated to reach out and pick it up.
Then he did, and cradled the little snippet in his palm.
Vader turned back to him. "If you are ready to enter, Majesty?"
Then he paused.
"What..." He reached out a hand, but drew it back before Luke could react. "Little angel... what is that?"
Luke closed his fingers around it, then opened them again, like the petals of a flower. "I don't know," he admitted. "It's the only thing in here I don't know."
"I... do," Vader said slowly, and reached out his hand again. From what Luke could tell, it wasn't trembling, but... he had the feeling it would have been, were it flesh. "It— it is a japor snippet, and it was your mother's. I had thought she was buried with it, but it appears Palpatine ransacked her tomb."
It wasn't hard to hear the fury there, and Luke thought he felt a dull, throbbing echo of it, deep in his gut. Whether it was his own, or he was sensing Vader's, he had no idea.
Luke closed his fingers around the necklace, then, and blinked away tears. If— if this had been his mother's—
"Your father was from Tatooine," Vader continued. "He carved it for her—it is meant to bring luck."
Luke murmured, "Good or bad?"
Vader didn't answer. He turned his hand over, so his palm was facing up. "May I, little angel?"
Luke wanted to say no, wanted to cling to it, never wanted to let it go... but Vader's voice was agonisingly tender, and it did not take a genius to figure out why.
He dropped the necklace into his palm, watching the string coil on the leather of his black glove.
Vader inspected it for a moment, his other hand coming to trace the shapes and whorls infinitely delicately, so delicately he barely seemed to touch them. Luke stared.
Then, to his surprise, Vader untied the string, looped it around Luke's neck and tied it again.
"What..." Luke flinched for a moment, before he realised what was happening, then his hand came up to rub his thumb against the wood.
"It is yours by right, Majesty," Vader said, dropping his hands from the back of Luke's neck. Luke tilted his head up to look him right in the eye plates, but that mask was unreadable. "She... she would've wanted you to have it, I'm sure."
Luke blinked fiercely, to no avail. Tears crawled down his cheeks.
"I can't do this," he whispered. He could feel... something from the snippet, something warm and sweet and loving, but it was like a candle against the crash of darkness he could sense from the vaults. He couldn't do this. "Why would he display this as a trophy? Did he order my father killed? Did— did he order my mother killed," he'd researched the circumstances of Padmé Amidala's death the moment it had come up, and Nova had been quick to refute that the Jedi had killed her, "and take her necklace just because he could?"
He swallowed.
"Did he rip me out of her arms just because he could?"
Vader knew what he was asking. And Vader was honest—brutally so, in some cases. Luke looked to him for honesty now.
He said, "Yes. I think you were his greatest trophy of all."
Luke nodded, and closed his eyes.
"I can't do this," he repeated. "I can't look. Could you..."
Vader's hand was gentle on his shoulder, the snippet nestled gently at his throat.
"Of course, little angel," he said, and led him out of the room. The door deeper into the vaults was still open behind them, a yawning chasm of darkness, but Luke knew Vader would go in there soon enough. "I will report to you what I find."
"All of it?"
"All of it."
"Even the parts that don't seem relevant to the spirit possession? Even the parts you have doubts about?"
Vader swore, "All of it."
Luke sighed, and wondered at the weight that rolled off his shoulders when he realised that he trusted Vader to keep his word.
Vader spent much of the day in that vault, increasingly furious at what he found. Several shelves of artefacts were lost to his crushing rage—he tried not to think about the fact that he may be destroying information vital to the survival of his son, lest he grow angrier and destroy even more—and eventually he decided that he should… leave it, for that day. He needed to report what he had found, and he needed to get a grip.
His son would be fine.
He would protect his son.
When he got there, there were soft voices coming from Luke's bedroom. Vader lurked closer, peering in through the half open door, and what he saw tugged the corners of his lips up ever so slightly—Luke was sitting on his bed, talking to Sabé, and smiling.
He lifted his hand to knock, to draw attention to himself, before he paused. It was still so rare for him to see Luke smile that he wanted to soak in the moment even if it wasn't meant for him, and all of a sudden he was hit with a surge of gratitude for Sabé. Sabé, who'd brought Luke happiness even in the depths of his miserable life, and had taught Vader's son love and goodness and light when all Vader had done was try to beat it out of him.
Vader didn't want to interrupt this. Not at all.
He didn't want to report everything to Luke anyway, despite his promise, but now...
He couldn't destroy this moment of peace. Luke deserved this, and Vader deserved to stay away.
So he turned, heart clenching...
"Vader?" Luke asked, looking up. He froze. "Are you finished in the vaults?"
Vader paused, let breath fill his lungs three times, before he said, "There was far too much in there to be certain that I have finished, but I believe I have found most of what can conceivably be found." Of what was left to be found.
"Are you here to report, then?" Luke asked, sitting up against his pillow. Sabé smiled at him, then more tentatively at Vader, from the armchair she'd pulled up next to the bed. "What did you find? What are your theories?"
Vader paused again. "I can report now if you so wish it, Majesty."
Luke nodded. He was in a much better mood than he was earlier, it seemed; the japor snippet sat snug about his collarbone. Vader's heart soared and shattered at the sight of it. "If you're ready?"
Vader let his respirator breathe again, and suddenly he felt odd, standing and towering over Luke and Sabé while they were seated. He used the Force to pull another one of Luke's armchairs over to next to the bed and seated himself, ignoring the way the chair creaked underneath him. Maybe it would collapse. Maybe it would make Luke laugh again.
"I... am ready," he said. He could feel Sabé's gaze on him.
"Then what did you find?"
Vader winced. "It seems that Palpatine put... a great deal of energy into researching this, little angel. There are all sorts of texts and holocrons which discuss this very ritual, and there are few decisive, accepted opinions of ancient Sith scholars. I believe a great deal of what Palpatine's plan was based on was merely his own theories." And his foresight, which was far more of a problem—it was famously accurate. But Vader didn't want to scare Luke.
Too late. Luke was scared, though he could tell he was doing his best to stay strong. "And what few decisive, accepted decisions did you find?"
"The body cannot hold two souls," Vader said simply. "Any sentient species researched was incapable of holding—"
"Researched?" Luke paled the moment he started thinking about what, exactly, that would entail.
"Yes." Vader stiffened as Sabé shot him a look. This was why he hadn't wanted this... "The human body, in this case, cannot hold more than one soul, and more specifically the soul it was naturally born with—natural attachments between body and soul—"
"You mean the act of living."
"...yes. But it is harder for the invading soul to seize control and settle into the body than for the original soul to fend them off, especially if the original being is Force-sensitive. So it is considered necessary for the invader to be far more powerful than the original, in order to be assured of success when faced with resistance."
Despite the morbid subject, that last part was said with hope. Luke was powerful—so, so powerful. If the worst came to the worst, Luke could...
"I'm doomed," Luke said. "There's no way I'll be able to resist him."
Vader stared.
The boy shifted awkwardly. "What? It's true. He's—"
"Luke..." Vader broke himself off. "You are far more powerful than Palpatine."
His son stared at him.
"What?"
"That is why he wants you as his vessel in the first place, I believe," Vader said, shaking his head—well, helmet. "Your connection to the Force is unparalleled, undoubtable. If it came down to it, you could resist him."
Luke looked at his fingers, entwined in his lap. "How?"
"Little was documented in the holocrons about how one resists or battles for dominance of the body, but I suspect it would be a similar skill to shielding, or resisting invasions of your mind—"
"Which I can't do. I can't keep you out. I could never keep him out."
"Because he kept you that way," Vader insisted. "Untrained, easy to overcome. But this is something we can change—"
"No."
Vader blinked. "What?"
"I trust you not to kill me," Luke said. His hands shook as he said it, and the words cut Vader to the core. "I trust that you don't want to hurt me. But you have hurt me, Lord Vader, and I refuse to train with you. I will never train with you again."
And as he said that, Vader thought he might have heard a death knell.
"Even if it may be the difference between life and oblivion?" he asked. "Even if it may be the only thing that allows you to keep control of your body?"
Luke kept his gaze steady. "Even then," he uttered, and the pieces of Vader's heart were crushed to dust.
He deserved this, he thought to himself.
He should've expected this.
If he lost his son, he knew, it would be all his fault.
"...very well," he acquiesced. "Then we shall do our best to simply keep him away from you."
Sabé was giving him a look. A fierce, furious look, and he knew exactly what she was thinking, but no. He could not. He could not.
...even if it was to save Luke's life?
He stood abruptly. "That is all for today, Majesty," he said to Luke. "I... will inform you if I learn anything else."
"Thank you, Lord Vader," Luke said, as Vader turned to leave the room. His happy mood from earlier was completely gone.
Vader stormed away.
It was no wonder.
Vader paced the Palace corridors for hours on end after that, trapped in his own thoughts, his hands trapped in fists. It was no wonder that Luke did not want to train with Vader.
There had been so many hellish experiences for him.
"I am departing on a diplomatic mission to Alderaan," Palpatine had said one time, resting a gentle hand on Luke's shoulder. "It will only be for three days, but do not fear." His father smiled. "Lord Vader will watch over you."
Terror shot through the boy—Vader could sense it—and he raised his eyes to the gigantic form of the Sith Lord standing there.
"This will be good for you, young prince," Vader rumbled. There was hatred in his voice. He did not bother to hide it. "It will give you the opportunity to hone your skills."
What few skills he had, had been the main thought that ran through Vader's mind as he observed the brat. He was peering at his father with a pleading expression, but of course any gentleness that Palpatine showed anyone, whether it be a young Anakin Skywalker or the nameless orphan adopted as a prince, was nothing but cold calculation. Palpatine squeezed the prince's shoulder lightly then let go when the lambda shuttle landed on the pad next to them. The prince took one look at the ship, took a half-step towards it, then shuddered away when his father shot him a withering glare.
He knew his place, and he knew it intimately.
Palpatine had left. Luke had been left with Vader. And…
Vader had spent those three days making Luke's life a living hell.
Luke had cried out, but never cried. He'd fallen over and over again, but whenever Vader ordered him up again, he got up. Lightsaber swinging, shields buffering, ready to do his best even when his best was terrible, through the fault of his teachers rather than his ability.
Palpatine had electrocuted Vader himself within an inch of his life, for that—for nearly ruining his precious vessel, he was fairly sure now—but even then Vader had sensed his delight at the savagery unleashed. There had been such pain, hatred, suffering in the Palace those days, and Luke had borne the brunt of all of it.
As Vader stormed through the corridors, mind whirling with the realisation that he could never teach his son to use the power that was his birthright, that he would never get that chance again, and that it might mean he lost Luke all over again...
He couldn't find it in himself to blame Luke for his decision at all.
He was the worst excuse for a father there was... barring Palpatine.
And as Vader desperately examined the situation from every angle he could, desperately tried to find a way that he would not have to cave to Sabé's suggestion... all he could feel was utter fury on Luke's behalf, that the Force had seen fit to saddle him the boy with both of them.
Did it have no mercy at all?
Of course it didn't.
In this galaxy, there was no such thing as mercy.
Vader kept pacing, desperate rage rising in his chest, even as his thoughts spun in a kaleidoscope of confusion, terror, and the most overwhelmingly horrifying realisation of all:
He would have to find a Jedi to train his son.
It seemed that the Force had no mercy, but it did have an abundance of irony—the moment he returned to his quarters, meaning to meditate in his hyperbaric chamber, to desperately find another way… he found someone else there.
He had only just entered when he spun around to come face to face with a determined Sabé.
He tried to look anywhere but at her: the blank white walls, the closed door to his personal medical bay, the ridiculous, inane furniture that he had to keep should he entertain guests and that more recently he had been hoping might entertain Luke. But she would not be denied.
"You know what I'm about to say," she informed him, crossing her arms across her chest. He scoffed, turned his back on her to resume his pacing, within his quarters this time, but she had the nerve to grab his arm. Grab his arm. "Luke—"
"I know," he hissed. "He will not train from me, so—" No, no, no, no, no... "So I... I will simply make sure that he—"
"Remains a fugitive from a ghost his whole life? Knowing that if he ever gets caught, he has no means of defending himself? Left vulnerable to not only metaphysical attacks, but also to every other sort of attack on him, as the Emperor, that being trained could help with—"
"I am not," Vader roared, yanking his arm away, "entrusting the fate of my son to a Jedi!"
Sabé's jaw trembled but she just glared up at him, unyielding. "Then you will lose him," she said, and her face wasn't hard, wasn't apathetic—it trembled with passion, and rage, and desperation that reminded Vader that she was desperate not to lose him too. "The Jedi will not hurt Luke, they wouldn't hold the sins of a father—of either father—against the son—"
"You have no idea what the Jedi are capable of."
"I know that it wasn't a Jedi who kidnapped Luke and raised him as a vessel!"
Vader straightened up. Sabé was taller than Luke, but both of them were so much shorter than him, and he wondered what sort of family he, Luke and Padmé might have made had they been given the chance.
"No," he shot back, enraged by the image and the fact that it would never come to pass, "but it was a Jedi who kidnapped Luke to raise him as a weapon!"
Sabé blinked. Vader glared.
"Palpatine told me that when he found Luke, his name was Luke Skywalker," he hissed. "That he had been living on Tatooine, with my mother's stepson and his wife. If Padmé is dead—if she was not looking after Luke, and died when— when—"
"When you strangled her?" Sabé asked, voice thick with disdain.
Vader froze. "How did you know that?"
Her face was impassive. "I didn't until you just confirmed it," she said grimly. "I just knew that she was supposedly choked to death by a Jedi, but you..." Her disgust rang in the Force—and so did something else.
"You're lying."
She blinked. "What are you talking about? I—"
"Padmé died on Mustafar," Vader declared hotly. "Yes, I know that, because I killed her."
"Do you regret it?"
"Do— what!?" He let his respirator take several breaths just to calm himself down. "Of course I regret it, you foolish woman. I have regretted it every moment of every day since I woke up to a galaxy without her. Especially since I found out about Luke."
Sabé blinked again. "Oh."
"But she did die," he continued. "She died on Mustafar, and Luke would have died with her. So there is only one possible explanation for the person who could have cut Luke out of her womb and spirited him away to Tatooine—far away from the Empire, where the Jedi could train him to be their weapon against us, but not far away enough!"
Sabé swallowed.
You were my brother, Anakin! Vader tried not to think. I loved you!
"The Jedi are deceptive, and cruel, and would absolutely separate a child from his father if they disapproved of that father."
"But they would not hurt that child!" She scoffed. "Are you worried that a Jedi would take Luke away from you?"
"How dare y—"
"Because I think," she informed him, rage crystallising in her eyes and making them spark all shades of brown, "that if it was to save Luke's life, they would be right to do so!"
Vader exploded.
Luke would hate him.
That was the thought in his mind a split second later, a split second in time: Luke would hate him if he killed Sabé.
Luke would hate him, and that was something he could not bear.
When he became aware of his surroundings again, that inane furniture was in splinters, some of which were embedded in the shell of his hyperbaric chamber, the door to his medbay had been blown open, but Sabé still stood—untouched and ferocious.
"And I think," he continued, voice low and deadly, "that you are a Rebel and a traitor."
She snorted. "We are all aware of the charges levelled against me when Palpatine wanted me gone, Lord Vader."
"I am not talking about that. Those charges were an attempt to rid Luke of his anchor, the one person who loved him." Sabé frowned, and Vader was suddenly aware of the way his voice had broken on that last part. "You are genuinely a Rebel, and a traitor, and you conspired with Obi-Wan Kenobi to steal my son in the first place."
"I did no such thing. Any involvement I had with the Jedi—"
"Is declared loud and clear by the strength of your mental shields. You did not have those during the Clone Wars."
"The person who taught me my shields," Sabé snapped, "was no Jedi."
"Nevertheless. You are a Rebel."
"By that, do you mean that I have always hated the Empire, and always wanted to see the Republic that I and my lady fought so hard to protect return?" She lifted his chin. "Of course. Padmé would be disgusted to see what you have wrought here."
"Do not presume—" Vader lifted his hand, clenched it into a fist and lowered it again. "You knew exactly who my son was, and you knew he survived the death of his mother."
"A friend of mine, and of Padmé's told me. Someone on Naboo needed to know. And when I heard that that child had been taken in by Palpatine, I was not going to leave him to the Emperor's tender mercies. I did not know who you were, Anakin, and my only thought was to keep her son safe."
"A friend?" Vader snorted, thought over it only briefly... and he knew exactly who. "So. Bail Organa is conspiring with the Jedi and the Rebellion?"
Sabé's politician's face held true, as it had when she was lying, but the slightest widening of her eyes gave her away.
Vader said smugly, "I will make sure he is made an example of."
"If you touch him," Sabé said, "his daughter, Princess Leia..." She nearly said something, then paused, then continued. "...will return to Alderaan. And, in all likelihood, not visit Coruscant again."
He scoffed. "Why would that make any difference to me?"
"Because she is Luke's friend."
He froze.
"And that would upset Luke."
He jabbed a finger at her. "You—"
She met his glare head on.
He released a sharp sigh out of sync with his respirator and marched around the room, using the Force to toss furniture debris out of his way.
"This is all irrelevant," she called after him. "And you know it. The fact remains that you have to let a Jedi train Luke, and you are grasping at straws in your desperation to deny it."
"Luke will not train with a Jedi," he seethed. "He will not. They would only teach him weakness, they would only hinder him, and turn him against—" He cut himself off.
Sabé raised one perfectly arched eyebrow. "Turn him against whom?" He said nothing. "Against you?"
Just like Padmé.
"No Jedi are needed for that," she informed him. "You seem to have done it perfectly well yourself."
You have done that yourself!
Vader clamped down on his rage this time. He could explode when she was away. When she was gone.
"I can protect Luke," he insisted, clenching his fists. "I could have saved Padmé. I can save Luke now. He does not need training, and when he finally decides that he does want it, when he trusts me enough to, he—"
"You can tell yourself whatever you want." The rage and fervour was gone from her voice now. Now it was just dead, emotionless, tired—and there was no escaping the terrible ring of truth. "But your justifications will mean nothing when you look into Luke's eyes, when you hear Luke's voice, and know irrevocably that your son is gone and your master has returned."
Vader stood there for long, long minutes. The rasping of his respirator was the only sound in the room.
"Contact your precious Jedi," he said finally. "Find one of them you trust, and bring them here to train Luke. Only one of them. I will allow them one week, and if they incur my displeasure, I will remove their head from their shoulders."
Sabé's brows twitched. "Charming," was all she said, but her triumphant smile said everything else.
Totally unaware of the conflict Vader and Sabé had had, Luke was spending that time distracting himself by reading. His japor snippet—and the knowledge that his birth father had loved his mother—was more than motivating to investigate further, so he started with the only thing he had: records of Naboo, Naboo's Jedi heroes, and some of the great figures of the Clone Wars.
"Nova?" he asked, after he'd done a significant amount of reading—about the Battle of Naboo, about the Battle of Christophsis, about the Battle of Coruscant. "Can… can I ask you something?"
Nova, sitting at her own desk in the corner of his office while he distracted himself from the actual paperwork on his desk, looked up. "Of course. Ask away."
"I read about a general who was close to my mother during the Clone Wars..." Luke began, and Nova's face shifted noticeably. Alright, then. He was on the right track. "He was a hero at Naboo, and during the Wars, and I… I had to ask…"
Nova looked ready to explode, so he just bit his tongue and let it all garble out of him:
"Was General Kenobi my father?"
Nova choked on her own tongue.
"What?" she asked, then composed herself. Forcibly. "I don't know where you could've possibly got that idea."
Luke crossed his arms, leaned back against the sofa and scowled. "I just explained my logic—is he my birth father or not?"
Nova was still struggling to speak, her mouth working, though no sound came out. She fixed her gaze resolutely on one of the Noghri guards, just over Luke's shoulder, and mouthed something at him.
"He is not," she finally said, decisively and clearly. "General Kenobi was a hero of the Naboo—he and his master, Qui-Gon Jinn, fought to liberate Naboo during the Trade Federation's invasion, and he worked closely with your mother then. I suspect she might have had a slight crush on him at the time, even, but..." She snorted. "He was most certainly not your father, little emperor."
"Do you know who my father was, then?" Luke pressed. Nova cleared her throat.
"I always had heavy suspicions—there was one Jedi whom she was particularly... fond of," she hedged. Luke could sense the part-lie, and frowned. She smiled when she saw that, leaning forwards to run her thumb over his cheek. It distracted him, as it was meant to do; he did not notice as the Noghri guard slipped out to find Lord Vader. "But I was the keeper of her secrets, and I wasn't about to tell anyone my suspicions."
Luke narrowed his eyes. "Including me?"
"They're only suspicions, Luke." Lie. She was getting more nervous now, gaze flickering to the door. "I don't want to—"
"I understand," Luke said.
She blinked, but regained her composure almost instantly, and smiled. "I'm glad. I... don't want to implant any false ideas in your head."
"I understand," Luke repeated. Had he hit the nail on the head? He'd been so certain that Kenobi was his father, and she was so adamant that he wasn't, but this was...
Suspicious...
The door flung open and Vader strode in. Luke jerked upright in his seat, and shot Nova a look. She smiled at him in a way that was both reassuring and grim.
"Why did you summon me?" Vader asked of Luke, but it was Nova who spoke.
"Luke asked a question about his father, and I just wanted to ensure that there were two people he could hear the answer from, instead of just me," she said smoothly. Vader tensed. "He was looking through some of the old Jedi records, and found references to one Obi-Wan Kenobi." Vader tensed even further at that. "Help me convince him that Kenobi was not his father—I'm not sure he believes me alone."
She smiled wryly at Luke. Luke scowled at her.
And Vader seemed apoplectic.
"Kenobi," he growled, stalking forwards, "was certainly not your father."
Luke raised his eyebrows up at Vader, but he wasn't finished.
"He was a traitor and a fool—one of the Jedi Order's greatest failures. He never deserved anything he got in life except his fall."
"You hated him?"
"I despised him. I despise him still."
But if Luke wasn't mistaken—and if watching too much Crown of Stars had told him anything—then that level of hatred could only come from love. If Vader was so disgusted, so panicked by the idea of Luke thinking, realising, this...
Whoever, Luke's father was, Vader had insulted and derided him before. Claimed he didn't love him. He'd also made it clear that he had loved both of Luke's parents... once upon a time...
Perhaps Luke's guess wasn't as far off as they wanted him to think.
He sighed. "Alright then," he conceded dramatically, letting himself seem dejected. Letting himself seem beaten down. "But can't you tell me who he actually was?"
"He was nobody," Vader answered immediately. Nova shot him a glare for some reason—and another, more urging look—but he said nothing more.
"Alright." Luke didn't bother masking his disappointment at still having secrets kept from him, but clearly, he wasn't getting anything from them here. He trusted Nova, he knew she wouldn't be keeping the truth from him if it wasn't for good reason, but...
It hurt. He wanted to know.
"On the topic of Jedi," Nova said, straightening up and putting her hands on her knees. "Luke, we still need to address the matter of your training."
Luke's gaze snapped up. "I am not—"
"You're not training with Vader. That's confirmed. We all know that." She nodded. Vader... nodded as well, more slowly. "But if the worst comes to the worst, being trained to defend yourself, defend your mind, would help greatly. And..."
Luke closed his eyes as he put the pieces together. "You want me to learn from a Jedi?"
"It is a foolish idea," Vader cut in.
"You, shut up. Of course you don't like it." Nova turned back to Luke. "And I know you probably don't like it either, but—"
"Jedi are evil." Nova flinched."Fat— Palpatine always said—"
"Palpatine said it," she said quietly. "Exactly. Do you not want to—"
"Overturn everything the Empire is based on?" Luke shot to his feet. "No! The Jedi are enemies of the Empire, how do I know they won't kill me, or— or—"
"Because I know this person. She kept me alive after I was chased out of the Palace. She taught me how to shield my mind so that I could look after you." Nova brushed Luke's cheek again, brushed a lock of his hair behind his ear. "She was a close friend of your mother's. And technically," she smiled a little, "she's not even a Jedi."
Vader stiffened. "If you are sending for who I think you are..."
"You know that she will not hurt Luke."
"I know that she will not be pleased to see me."
"On the contrary. She's been wanting to have a chat with you for years. She'd certainly be happier to see you than anyone else would."
Luke looked left, then right. "Who?" he echoed. "Who is this?"
"You'll meet her soon," Nova said. "I've already contacted the person who will get me in contact with her—but she might not want to come. Or she might not be able to come. And the other candidates are less than ideal, but... you need them, Luke. And you will be safe, with them. I promise."
He looked her deep in the eye, blinked away a few tears, then nodded. "Alright. Alright, I'll... give it a try."
"Good." She squeezed his hands, then there was a chiming sound. When she glanced at her comm, she got to her feet immediately. "I have to go," she said. "That's the person I contacted, getting back to me. I'll tell you what he says." She smiled. "It'll be good, Luke."
"I trust you," he said.
She left, folded her dark red skirts around her as she did.
The moment she was gone, Luke turned to Vader and demanded, "What do you think of this?"
Vader crossed his arms. "You know that I dislike it, Majesty."
"Little wonder." Luke gritted his teeth. "And even you won't tell me my father's name?"
"Your father was nothing. I told you. He did not deserve your mother and he certainly did not deserve you."
Luke stared at him... and he realised.
Vader hated everything. Everyone.
And he seemed to hate himself the most.
And if he was so adamant that Luke speak no more of Obi-Wan Kenobi, of a Jedi who was never reported dead and who vanished around the start of the Empire, when Vader appeared...
Luke narrowed his eyes.
"What's your name?" he asked.
Vader jerked. "Majesty?"
"Your name," he repeated quietly, channelling an imperious voice, staring at Vader. "You want me to trust you, then prove it. Give me your real name. "
Vader froze, and stared at the boy.
"You know my name," he uttered, thoughts racing. This— this...
"I do not know your original name."
"That is unimportant. Vader is my real name. I dedicated everything I had to the Sith, and the name I received is exactly who I am."
"Is Luke Palpatine my name?" the boy shot back. Vader shuddered, hearing it in full, because— "It was not the name I was born with, but it was the name I was raised with. It's all I know—and yet I don't think you've ever used it."
"You should not have had to use that name," Vader argued weakly. "That was not your choice. You call your Lady Sabé by the name Nova, yet that was not the name she was born with."
"But she chose it. It was not a name forced on her, especially by a dead man we all despise. I want to know who you were before… him."
Before the Empire, Vader thought he heard.
"I am not in any of the records of the Jedi you will have looked through," he warned. He'd been erased. "If you wish to know more about me in that way, then my name will not help you."
Vader didn't realise he'd half-turned away until his son's voice called him back.
"Maybe I want to know anyway," he said softly, "Lord Vader."
Vader sighed then, and his respirator protested the motion.
"It will not tell you anything," he reiterated. "And it is a name I left behind me long ago."
"I still want to know who, exactly, I am putting my trust in. That will not change, Vader, no matter—" Luke cut himself off sharply and looked away. Only when Vader saw the tears glittering in his eyes did he realise the toll this entire conversation had really taken on Luke. "I don't know who you are. I barely know who Nova and my mother are—were. I don't have the faintest idea who my father was, and I just found out that the man who I considered my father only ever wanted me as a puppet."
Vader swallowed. Luke closed his eyes.
"I'm tired of not knowing anything," he continued. "Knowledge is power, and you and Nova have it all. I'm sick of never being in control."
Tell him, Sabé had urged him earlier. Luke deserved to know the truth of who his father was. He deserved to no longer be left in the dark. Vader knew that she would not tell him before he did—it was something he should hear from Vader—but her opinions on the matter were quite clear.
Luke deserved to know the truth. And, if he was honest, Vader knew he deserved the pain that would come with seeing understanding click in his son's eyes, and suddenly being considered a monster—a monster too cruel and blind to realise he'd been torturing his own son, and too weak and ashamed to admit to it when he did.
He deserved that.
But by all the stars in the sky, if he could avoid it for the rest of his life, he would.
He did not want to lose his son. Not when they were so slowly growing closer. Not when Luke felt comfortable enough to demand this of him.
"My name will tell you nothing, little angel," Vader said. "It will not give you the knowledge you seek, or the understanding you crave."
He braced himself for further objections, but none came. Luke just sighed, and bowed his head.
"You're right." He stood abruptly, scrubbing at his face with the back of his hand. "I— I'm sorry, I'm being stupid. You can go now, Lord Vader."
"Anakin Skywalker," Vader said.
Luke froze. He dropped his hand from his face and turned to stare at Vader. His beautiful, embroidered shirt, crumpled from all the time he'd spent sitting down, was now damp with tears. "What did you say?"
"My name was Anakin Skywalker, little angel," Vader said. "I know that it means nothing to you. But I will offer it anyway."
Luke blinked. "I— thank you," he said. "I... appreciate that."
There... wasn't much more to say. Vader just turned on his heel and left, leaving Luke to his own thoughts.
Anakin Skywalker, he'd said.
Luke closed the door to his bedroom and collapsed onto his bed, pulling one of his stuffed toys—a porg, this time, the most recent gift—towards him and clutching it to his chest.
Anakin Skywalker.
Vader was right. It sounded... vaguely familiar, but it ultimately meant nothing to Luke.
And it was not a lie. Vader had not been lying.
So... that meant...
Vader was not Obi-Wan Kenobi. Kenobi had been Luke's father—he was sure of it, there was no other explanation he could think of for Nova and Vader's strange behaviour, Vader's hatred of him—and if Vader was not Kenobi... then he was not Luke's father.
Luke hugged the porg tighter. He'd thought that for just one moment, things would make sense. If Vader had been his father, all of this... it would all make sense.
But he wasn't. And it didn't.
Luke wondered at that for a long while.