Originally written for Flufftober 2020 for the prompt "Serendipity".
The Jedi were gone. The Jedi were dead. Vader had done his job far, far too well, he had thought, and the Inquisitors were up to hunting down the rest.
Except they appeared to have failed.
They were not doing their jobs well enough, if Vader could walk onto a planet and sense a Force presence like this.
He snarled to himself, but he was having poor fortune today: he could not go off to immediately investigate. Palpatine had sent him to negotiate with the Queen of the Naboo first, no doubt as a subtle punishment for his failure to crush the rebellion on Jedha, and negotiate with her he must.
But the moment they were done, despite her clear desire for him to get right off her planet, he stalked into the city on the hunt for a Force user who could make the stars vibrate.
He was walking for a while, the troopers behind him as well as his own fearsome reputation doing a good job of keeping civilians and local police officers alike out of his way, before he came upon the shop, just off the high street, that the Force was tugging him towards. It was a mechanic's shop—Bibble's, a typical Naboo name—and he didn't hesitate before storming in.
The old man at the counter dropped what he was holding in shock. "Look, I already told you Imperials—"
Then he saw Vader.
His face absolutely drained of colour. He backed away, terrified, staring right at him.
"You're—you're—"
"You are not Force-sensitive," Vader said. The man was too old, he would've been picked up by the Jedi immediately—and his fear was as dull as his face.
The man gaped. "No? I'm— I would never be—"
"Sir?" a younger voice called, and a young boy came out of the back room then, a wrench in his hand. His eyes blew wide at the sight of Vader. "My— my lord, we were not expecting—"
"Silence." Vader inspected the boy—blond, pale-eyed, slight, wearing grey, greasy mechanic's overalls. Too young to be an established worker, by Naboo laws; probably an apprentice.
And this was the Force presence he was looking for. He was sure of it.
"You," he demanded, "what is your name?"
The boy frowned. The man—Bibble—next to him stiffened, opening his mouth, turning to look at his young apprentice, but before he could object the boy spoke—
"Luke Skywalker."
Bibble made a squeak. Vader took no notice.
He was too busy staring.
Luke… Skywalker…
Luke… Skywalker…
On Naboo.
Looking like that boy did.
"I see," Vader said flatly. The man knew something, clearly—he winced, but said nothing as Vader continued. "And am I correct in guessing that Sola Naberrie is your aunt?"
Luke swallowed. "Yes. What of it? How did you know that?"
Vader said, "And that Padmé Amidala"—it still hurt to say her name—"was your mother?"
Luke nodded.
Vader turned to his men. "Seize him."
"What!?"
Vader watched his son with a ravenous gaze, smiling to himself.
It seemed that today was a day of good fortune, after all.