Inner Rim Territories, Outer Space
Executor-Class Star Destroyer
"..What is thy bidding, my Master?"
A blue hue of light painted a figure in black who kneeled before the gigantic hologram of a hooded elderly man. The room which housed the two figures seemed to hum powerfully, as the Dark Side of the Force swirled around the two beings. The Shadow tilted his polished helmeted head upwards slightly, but still retained his submissive knelt posture to the higher being before him. The hologram seemed to study the Shadow with only meager interest, the golden eyes underneath the shadowed hood glimmered with a sense of perplexity. The hologram opened his cracked, ugly lips to reveal a set of grimy teeth. A few gaps were evident, showing as he did miss a few bones that were implanted upon his gums. a low, deep, haggard voice that held a eerie bass crooned, "I have felt a tremor within the Force, my Apprentice," The glowing hooded head belonged to none other than the Emperor shone upon the kneeled being.
The light of the hologram basked dull hues of blue onto the polished armor and cape that the Shadow wore. "I trust you have felt it too?"
A few moments passed, the only silence being intruded by the mechanical rasps of the bowed creature. In truth, the Dark Lord of the Sith did not feel such a twinge in the Force. For the Shadow, the Dark Side that surrounded him only remained at a steady thrum. He had felt no prick or prod in his very being, and it was perhaps so, for his mind was encompassed entirely on his most recent discovery of the true identity who destroyed his Master's Death Star was.
Luke Skywalker.
His own kin.
His son.
Fett had given him the name when Vader ordered an assignment, and he felt rage induce him entirely when he name was exposed to him. His Master had lied to him. Padmé's child lived, although she did not. The Shadow felt a glimmer of an unknown feeling pass through him, which much resonated to Hope. Hope of his Angel remaining alive. But it was squashed entirely, for although he still had difficulty swallowing the truth, Padmé was undoubtedly dead. But Skywalker was not. A new fiery ambition thick as lava gushed inside of what remained of Lord Vader, the ambition to make his son his own. To train him in the Dark Side of the Force. And ultimately: to destroy Sheev Palpatine, and rule the entire Galaxy as Father and Son. Vader curled his scarred lip underneath his armored mask. He replied, his voice altered to sound like a deep, growling bass from the shelter of his helm.
"No, my Master."
A tremor in the Force? His Master was always full of riddles and mysteries, and Vader suddenly felt a desire to truly know what his Master meant by that statement; and then to question him if he had felt it? As the Shadow replied honestly, he felt the glare of the old Sith burn into his broad frame. His gloved fists clenched when he heard the man reply patronizingly, "Hmm, I would have thought you would. Perhaps your connection to the Force has weakened," The Emperor regarded him, a sly smile forming on his wrinkled face. With that statement alone, Vader's pride was punctured, followed by a inferno rage akin to glowing coals that grew in their heat. "I feel that young Skywalker is growing stronger in the Force,"
The Shadow's gloved fists clenched. The Force hummed powerfully, seeping into the Sith Apprentice's veins and reinforcing his burning hatred for his Master. A chuckle resonated from the Emperor, echoing throughout Vader's own private chambers. To follow into his hatred however, was a sense of pride for his son. Growing stronger? You old fool, of course he is. Vader wanted to hiss, but he knew of the dire punishment he would receive if he ever dared to disrespect the Emperor. Ever since he felt Skywalker's youthful presence shine in the Force, like a blazing sun amid mere planets, he yearned for Luke's presence to be by his side, to stay with him until the end of days.
But young Skywalker was an expert in slipping through Vader's steel grip. But the Shadow was patient. He learned from his past mistakes, and was educated to precisely follow the true meaning of waiting, and becoming one with a growing sense of anticipation for exacting his vengeance against his Master. The Shadow slowly rose to stand, looking directly at his Master who continued to observe him silently.
The Emperor rumbled aloud after a few long, tense moments. "Tell me of your activities, my Apprentice. Have you managed to discover the Rebel Base yet?" Saliva and spittle erupted from his lips as he growled the sentence out.
Vader replied automatically, despite feeling a sense of confusion settle over himself for his Master not continuing the conversation of Skywalker further. Yet, he was relieved. His mental barriers were kept strong, hindering the Emperor's use of the Dark Side to seep into his mind. "Unfortunately, I have not. However, I have sent out Imperial probe Droids across the Galaxy. Soon, my Master, we will find them." And my son and I will destroy you, he added silently.
The Emperor's scarred, ugly face was unreadable. Vader felt a rush of anxiety swell, fearing that his Master may have managed to see that treacherous thought. He immediately forced the unwanted feeling away. A crude smile then formed, and the Emperor purred, "Very good, Lord Vader. Soon, Skywalker will be mine," The Emperor rumbled a laugh, as if he found tantalizing enjoyment in Vader's intense searing rage overtake him at the mention of his son becoming a slave like he was to his Master. "I will speak with you once again soon enough."
The hologram disappeared, leaving a seething Sith Lord alone. No, Skywalker was his. He will usurp the Emperor's throne, with he and his son to rule their dominion over the Galaxy together. But Vader knew how powerful his Sith Master was. Vader was weak compared to him, but with the aid of young Skywalker, together, they will topple Sidious. Again, Vader felt the rise of a desperate need engulf him at the mere thought of Skywalker. The Force beat powerfully between him, like a pair of drums.
Fueled by his passionate vigor and ambitions for the boy, the Sith felt satisfied with his loud thoughts that seemed to scream in his broken, hate-filled mind. He quickly turned away, his black cape swept as he suddenly moved his bulky frame. Lord Vader stormed out from his private chambers and entered the wide halls of his Star Destroyer.
A squad of Stormtroopers marched by, dipping their helmeted heads in dubious respect for their commander. Vader paid no mind to the Imperial soldiers. His thoughts were now focused entirely on the hidden Rebel Base, wanting to know of the Empire's progress if they managed to find the whereabouts of the Rebels. The whereabouts of his son.
Officers and ISB Agents dressed in grey saluted him curtly as the black cyborg stomped by, a few mouse Droids were nearly squashed underneath his boots as he walked through the polished halls. They squeaked and trilled in surprise. At once, he entered the Main Command Bridge of the Executor, with Admiral Ozzel nearly bumping into him.
"L-Lord Vader!" The man squeaked, his blue eyes widened at the sight of the towering man.
As Ozzel quickly spluttered his useless apologies, Vader's robotic voice rumbled aloud, "Tell me, Admiral, have we found any data regarding the Rebels?"
A few men that worked under the Bridge swallowed, their adam's apples bobbed nervously, as if they felt their commander's rage seep into their flesh. Vader approached the viewport as he walked across the bridge, studying the speckled void that was before him. Through the Force, he felt Ozzel's excitement and sudden eagerness to please arise. The fool was like a buzzing Geonosian. Always clicking out orders and bleating apologies to please Lord Vader. Albeit the Sith would have found satisfaction in choking the life out of the man, he was too much of a important figurehead for the Sith. Vader would never admit it, but Ozzel held much intelligence and knowledge when he focused on keeping order and tactical emergencies for the Empire.
"Yes, my Lord," The man tapped at a datapad in the palm of his hand. Vader quickly swung around to face him. "I was just leaving to infor-"
"Tell me!" Vader barked, obviously having little patience for the Admiral's lollygagging words. Ozzel gulped at the sudden shift of Lord Vader's mood, but he still shared his elation.
"W-We have found that the Rebels currently reside on the ice planet of Hoth. One of our Imperial probe Droids have managed to discover the base, before it was.. destroyed."
The Sith remained as still and silent, like a phantom menace. Ozzel licked his lips nervously, averting his blue gaze submissively. He cared not if the Droid was destroyed. What only mattered was that he found the Base. Only the mechanical rasps of the Sith's breathing could be heard, but inside that black shell, Vader smiled. It was a smile of satisfaction. A smile of keen anticipation, a desirable need to claim. It held absolutely no happiness, no joy, only a twisted form of selfish hunger.
His golden-yellow eyes blazed behind the glazed eye-sockets of his helm. Hoth? What an isolated planet. A wise choice on the Rebel's behalf, but one that ultimately proved foolish. Vader mused. His son would rather stand among cowards, and fight against the might of the Empire. Skywalker stood strong, however. Once again, the strange sensation of pride filtered through the Sith at the thought of his own child fearlessly fighting against the Imperials. He knew well that he will truly show his son what the Rebels truly were. Luke will stand by his side, and he will train him in the Dark Side. They will both be unstoppable. His thoughts regarding young Luke were dangerously possessive.
Yet, it may prove difficult. Vader's logical side argued. The Rebels no doubt twisted his own child to serve them, to fight against his own father. The boy however held no knowledge that he was the son of Vader.. but Vader's offer to Skywalker which he planned will be irresistible. The offer to topple the Emperor, and rule the Galaxy, and finally, have Vader's own corrupted form of 'peace.'
He would have to capture Skywalker, first, if any of that were to occur.
"Prepare the fleet, and inform General Maximilian Veers that he will control the ground assault on Hoth," Vader rumbled. "We will leave at once."
Ozzel dared to defy his word. "But m'lord, we have only ju-ack-"
Strong tendrils of the Dark Side formed around the Admiral's neck, slithering into his throat. The Force began to constrict Ozzel's pharynx, completely blocking the man from taking needed swallows of oxygen. Gurgling could be heard from the Admiral, as his gloved hands immediately shot to his neck to try to rid of the invisible tentacles that were squeezing the life out of him. Vader's black gloved hand was only lifted slightly, hands curled as he controlled his use of the Force upon the Admiral.
The crewmen looked on, their faces shown silent terror for the entire absurdly horrifying act bestowed before their own wide eyes. Drool left Ozzel's gaping mouth as he fought desperately for air. Only a few seconds before he fainted, Vader released his grip of the Force on his Admiral.
"Do not try my patience." The cyborg rumbled, his baritone voice full of fatal warning.
The middle-aged man fell onto the ground, using his hands to keep from face-planting on the polished floor. Loud hacks and wheezing coughs, followed by obnoxiously loud sucks of air. Without another word, the Sith Lord marched off, leaving a disheveled red-faced, scowling Ozzel. As soon as Vader's presence left, Ozzel bellowed an enraged snarl, "As Lord Vader commanded, we will leave! Set the coordinates for the planet of Hoth, as I will immediately speak with General Veers,"
Multiple "Yes sirs!" and "Ayes!" quickly resonated throughout the main command bridge, and Admiral Ozzel stormed across the bridge, huffing through his nostrils like a raged bull.
Slaver's Bay, Essos
The City of Meereen
Meereen held a great length, as it was bigger than both Astapor and Yunkai were brought together. Like cities next to her, Meereen was built entirely out of pure brick. However Astapor was red and the city of Yunkai yellow; Meereen was generated of bricks made out of many colors, akin to a dull rainbow that built the great city. The walls towered far up, greater than Yunkai's, in better repair. It was defended with bastions and defense towers at every corner of the city. Behind the walls, with your own naked eye, you could observe the very peak of the Great Pyramid. Eight hundred feet tall with a huge bronze harpy standing at the very tip.
"The harpy is a craven thing," Daario Naharis observed aloud when his gaze surveyed it. "She has a woman's heart, and a chicken's legs. Small wonder her sons hide behind their walls."
Ironically when he said that, her son did no such thing. In fact, he rode among the city gates, dressed in scales made of copper and jet, sitting upon his white stallion striped in white-and-pink. A silk cloak draped from his shoulders, dancing in the light breeze that passed by the city. His hair was shaped like a ram's horns. To and fro he guided his horse under the walls of various colored bricks, spitting out prideful sentences and declaring himself the best warrior in the city. He hissed challenges to the besiegers, wanting them to send a opponent to fight in single combat.
The Bloodriders held a keen eagerness to meet him, that they almost met blows.
"Blood of my blood," Daenerys' voice rang aloud to them, "Your place here is with me. This man is a buzzing fly. Pay no mind.. ignore him, he will soon be gone."
Aggo, Jhogo, and Rakharo frowned at her, but obeyed her word. Dany could not risk them, for they were excellent warriors. But they were young, and their deaths would be absolutely unwanted to her. They were too valuable to be placed at such a stupid risk. If anything, Daenerys may have saved them from such a untimely activity. They helped keep her khalasar safely as one, and they were her most excellent scouts as well. "That was wisely done," Ser Jorah said to her as they observed from the pavilion. "Let the fool ride back and forth and shout until his horse goes lame. He does us no harm."
"He does," Artsan Whitebeard argued, glaring at Jorah. "Wars are not won with swords and spears alone, ser. Two hosts of equal strength may come together, but one will break and run whilst the other stands. This hero builds courage and in the hearts of his own men, and plants the seeds of doubt in ours."
Ser Jorah released a snort through his nostrils. He eyed Artsan with a vexed gaze. "And if our champion were to lose, what sort of seed would that plant?"
"A man who fears battle wins no victories, ser,"
"We're not speaking of battle. Meereen's gates will not open if that fool falls. Why risk a life for a naught?" Jorah pointed out.
Artsan quirked a brow. "For honor, I would say."
Growing tired of their useless arguement, Daenerys hissed,"I have heard enough."
She definetely did not need to hear their bickering within her ears, for there were much more important topics to talk of. Dany observed that Meereen posed way more fatal circumstances, far more dangerous than some stupid buffoon 'white hero' shouting daring insults to others before him. Dany could not afford herself to even get preoccupied, hindering her from achieving her main goal. More than eighty thousand men were housed here, but a little less than a quarter of them were soldiers. The Great Masters of Meereen harvested all they could before Dany arrived, putting what remained to the fire. They poisoned their wells as an added bonus.
But what disturbed Dany most was what they did as she arrived here: They had nailed a small slave child to every milepost, note that they were still living; with their exposed bloodied inner organs dangling from their cut stomachs. One arm of each child was outstretched, directed towards where Meereen lay. Daario had known before she had, and quickly delivered orders to bring the dead corpses from the posts before Daenerys even laid eyes on them. But before he could, she heard of it and ceased him from taking the children down.
"I will see them," She told the man. "I will see every one, count them, and look upon their faces. And I will remember."
As they arrived to Meereen that sat on the salt coast beside the wide river, she pledged to herself that she will take the city as her own.
The hero who insulted them all so was named Oznak zo Pahl. The Khaleesi, her people, and everyone else watched as he stepped off from his horse. He undid his own robes, pulling out his cock. Dany grimaced as the man did such a disgusting act, as a thin stream of piss erupted directly where Daenerys' golden pavilion stood amid the charred trunks of trees. Oznak was still urinating when Daario, filled with rage at the show of disrespect, rode up to him. His arakh in his left palm was raised up in anticipation to deliver a swing. "Shall I cut that off for you and stuff it down his mouth, Your Grace?"
Dany replied, her face stoic. "It's his city I want, not his meager manhood." A growing anger began to build, nearing it's height to the walls of Meereen. But Dany kept her anger in check. Anger wasn't going to solve anything, but logic would. But a slight gnawing sensation bit at her, the sensation of self-consciousness of how she appeared to her own people. If I ignore this any longer, my own people will think me weak.
Who could she even send as a challenge? She asked herself. Daario was important, and she needed him by his side. The same could be said for her Bloodriders. On the towering walls of Meereen, hundreds of defenders decided to jeer, they voices growing loud. Following their 'hero's' suit, they too brought their manhood out and began to piss too. They demonstrated their own incompetence and distaste towards Dany. They are pissing on slaves, she mused silently. They would never dare do such a thing if it were a Dothraki khalasar outside their gates.
"The challenge must be met," Arstan declared once more.
"It will be," Dany said, her purple eyes narrowing. "Tell Strong Belwas I have need of him."
Oznak put his penis away, openly guffawing at Dany and her people. The round eunuch, Belwas, sat in the cool shade of Dany's pavilion, munching busily on the meat of a sausage. He finished the snack in three exact bites, wiping his greasy hands on his matted trousers. He sent Arstan to fetch him his weapon, the squire then rubbed the arakh with bright red oil. Handing the sword to Belwas, the fat warrior merely gave a grunt, taking his weapon from Arstan's hands. The man then gave Belwas' small shield too. Taking the shield, Belwas muttered, "Find liver and onions, Whitebeard. Not for now, for after. Killing makes Strong Belwas hungry."
The man didn't wait for a reply, as he then bumbled away from the pavilion, on his way to meet Oznak.
As Dany calmly watched him stomp away, he then heard the voice of Rakharo. "Why that one, Khaleesi?" He was confused on why Dany would choose such a man to fight. "He is fat and stupid."
The Khaleesi then began to explain, "Strong Belwas was a slave here in the fighting pits.. if this highborn Oznak should fall to such, the Great Master will be shamed. While if he wins.. well, it is a poor victory for one so noble," Dany then smiled. "One that Meereen can take no pride in."
Belwas was a man that she could most easily spare. All he did was sit around, eat, drink, and shout at Arstan. Daenerys, her people, and the defenders of Meereen watched as Strong Belwas hobbled an approach towards Oznak. The shouts and jeers could be heard loudly, and Oznak's horse nickered and tossed his head irritably. The animal pawed at the sand, sending dirty flying from his hooves. Strong Belwas then crouched slightly before the animal only a few meters away, holding his arakh. A few tense moments passed, then suddenly, the stallion charged. Oznak lowered his lance as the horse ran forwards. Belwas wear no armor, for he was only adorned in his studded leather vest which barely enveloped his meaty belly and sagging nipples.
"We should have given him that chainmail," Dany whispered, anxiety billowed in her stomach.
"Mail would only slow him," Explained Jorah. "They wear no armor in the fighting pits. It's blood the crowd comes to see."
Dust and dirt erupted from the stallion's hooves as the animal ran, Oznak's cloak flew from his shoulders. The intense screams of the city of Meereen seemed to push Oznak forth. The Unsullied was silent, watching the entire occurrence, stone-faced. Belwas continued to stand still, but as soon as the steed nearly crushed him, the man dove to the side. In the blink of an eye the horseman passed him, with Belwas totally unharmed. Belwas didn't even make a move to go on the offensive.
"What is he doing?" Dany hissed a demand.
"Giving the mob a show." Jorah answered dryly.
Oznak then directed his steed to encircle Belwas, then reinforced the horse's spurs and charged once more. Again, Belwas stood in wait. Before the lance could even touch him, he pushed the point of the lance to the side, an act that was so mocking and careless. Jorah observed, "The lance is too long," He chuckled. "All Belwas needs to do is avoid the point. Instead of trying spit him so prettily, the fool should ride over him."
Again, Oznak charged. But now Dany could see that the man was riding past Belwas, treating this as if it was a joust, like the knights did down in Westeros. Oznak swayed his lance towards Belwas at the last second to try to impale the fat man, but he dodged. He dropped down instead of directing himself sideways. Rolling on the dirt ground, Belwas brought his arakh to dig into the steed's legs. A resounding scream of the stallion could be heard, echoing throughout the large clearing.
Instead of Meereen's people, it was Dany's who were bellowing cheers.
Oznak jumped from his horse and unsheathed his sword before Strong Belwas approached him. The clanging of steel resonated, as metal clashed against each other in a deadly battle of scoring flesh. Belwas' chest bled, as the sword managed to slice through him. But, it wasn't a deep wound thankfully. Crimson blood splattered onto the dust, and soon, there was an arakh in Oznak's forehead. A sickening 'crunch' could be heard as steel found refuge in bone. Belwas then grabbed the bloodied blade loose, slashing the dead man's head from his body with a few absolutely savage slices to his neck. Belwas then held the head for everyone to see, then carelessly tossed the head at the city gates. It rolled and bounced across the sand, blood following it.
Over the victories screeches of Dany's people, Daario laughed, "So much for the hero of Meereen!"
"A victory without meaning," Jorah warned. "We will not win Meereen by killing it's defenders one at a time."
"No," Dany smirked. "But I'm pleased we killed this one."
A flurry of arrows shot from the bows of Meereen's defenders, but they fell short. Belwas turned his bare, sweaty back on the wall. He then lowered his pants, exposing his bare arse. Squatting, he took a shit in the direction of Meereen, giving them a taste of their own disrespect. Then, he wiped himself with Oznak's cloak, looted the beheaded man, and finally put the horse out of it's agonizing misery. Once the man returned, Dany's people applauded and gave him a celebratory welcome, swarming him and delivering him the food he wanted. Dany ordered her people to clean the cut that was given on Belwas, and albeit he hollered and whined about it, Dany had none of it. She will not lose someone else who had the similar wound that her former lover, Khal Drogo, had.
After returning to her own tent, Dany with several of her Bloodriders, Grey Worm, Ser Jorah, Brown Ben, and others. They exchanged words concerning entering the city of Meereen, if there was any way of infiltrating the city, along with ways they can take over the city and have a use for the freemen. After an hour or two, she sent them away to be left alone with her Dragons. Laying down on the comfort of her cushions, Drogon, who was only a small hatchling, lay on her stomach. Using a hand to lightly pet his small horned scull, she ran her fingers gently across his scales. She whispered quietly to her child, "I'd fly you over the walls and melt that harpy down to slag."
It would be years though, before her Dragons were fully grown for riding. In answer, a little chirp resonated from the reptilian creature. Viserion buried his scaled snout into her ivory hair, while Rhaegal curled up beside Dany's bare arm. She used a hand for that arm to trail her fingers along the green-scaled dragon's back, and she earned a chorus of purrs arise from her children. She smiled. As the Khaleesi's thoughts swam, she felt a want to feel the ocean breeze upon her face. Slowly, careful not to disturb her Dragons, she lifted herself from the bed. Dany used her arm to gingerly place Drogon on the warmed pillow where she lay, and a squeak from Rhaegal was emitted.
"Missandei," She called out, "Have my silver saddled. Your own mount as well."
Smiling, the young woman replied, "As Your Grace commands. Shall I summon your Bloodriders to guard you?"
Dany answered, as she readied herself for the ride. "We'll take Arstan. I do not mean to leave the camps,"
The brown-skinned girl nodded her assent, and guided Daenerys from the tent towards their waiting horses. Arstan bowed his head in greetings, and before long the small group rode out in the direction of the beach. Dany's horse nickered and whinned, and the young woman petted the mare gently. Dany heard Grey Worm and his men run a series of drills and training, teaching them how to deliver fatal blows with a shield, shortsword, and heavy spear. One other company bathed in the sea, dressed only in white breechclouts. They knelt respectfully as she passed, and Dany returned the respect. She approached the wet sand, and the tide was slowly coming in. Foam bathed her horse's hooves, and she gazed at the sky. She noticed something within the stars. Something odd.
It was like a ball of white, larger than the other stars as it shot through the skies. Daenerys' brow furrowed at the absurdity, and she called to the scribe, Messandei. "Do.. do you see that?"
In response, Daenerys looked behind her and watched as the other young woman's eyes widened at the white ball that crossed the skies. It seemed to draw near. Dany's people by the beach also followed her gaze, and a low rumbling roar could be heard from above.
"I.." Missandei's voice trailed off.
It looked to be aflame, and Dany's horse whinnied and flicked her tail as the thing directly shot over her. Her almond shaped eyes wide, Dany remained silent as she then observed the falling star in wonder, heading for the land of Westeros, going North.
Westeros, North of the Wall
"..Nngh.."
A pair of blue eyes drearily lifted open. They observed the ground before them, and they narrowed. Their vision was blurred, but they slowly grew into focus. Another groan was sounded, and a dull ache began in the boy's forehead. Cheekbones flat against the ground and his blonde hair tussled, young Skywalker blinked. His entire body was sore, gingerly using his arms to lift himself up. His clothing scraped against the floor, and he swallowed a rise of pain as he preformed this act. As soon as he sat up, he quickly lifted a bare hand to caress his forehead. What happened? Was the very first thought that entered Luke's mind. Suddenly, a flare of panic engulfed him, and the boy turned to his side. His panicked gaze surveyed a passed-out Wookiee that sat limply in the left pilot's chair of the Falcon.
Not caring for his own pain, Luke staggered up and immediately brought his hands to grab at Chewbacca's fur. "Chewie! Chewie, wake up!" If Luke ever dared try this is Chewie was awake, his arm would be gone, that's for sure. He slapped the Wookiee across his furred face a few times, and a quiet growl emerged from the harry creature. Feeling an overwhelming sense of relief, Luke saw the Wookiee's brown eyes flicker open. Quickly, Luke brought his hand away and shot a question: "You okay?"
Chewie gave a slow nod as a response.
As young Skywalker's thoughts were less clouded than before, his thinking then traced on Han and Leia. Oh kriff, oh karking kriff! Luke swore to himself silently, now fearing for his other friends. Shooting out from the Falcon's cockpit, Luke stumbled through the halls, his body feeling fuzzy. His legs barely supported him, but Luke's adrenaline coursed through his veins at the mere thought of his close friends being hurt.
He then found Han and Leia together, with the young Princess' head laying across the smuggler's chest. The two seemed to be sound asleep as the young boy shouted, "Han! Leia! Wake up!"
Han's eyes shot open, blinking a few times. He didn't notice Leia who slowly was brought away from her slumber. "Luke?" She said softly, her voice a bare whisper.
The smuggler then brought his hands to rub at his eyes, removing the crust. "What do ya want?" Han grumbled sleepily. As soon as his senses registered though, Han's eyes widened as he found Leia waking up on his chest, curled directly right next to him. His gaze then shot to Luke, who still observed them with a wild gaze. Han waggled his eyebrows and winked, and Luke couldn't help but roll his eyes drastically. Once Leia found out, she yelped and jumped right off of the smuggler. "I-I, you-"
Leia growled, using the palms of her hands to straighten out her attire.
Han only chuckled, but Luke didn't have any patience for the jokes. He subconsciously checked for his 'saber, which was gratefully still attached to his waistbelt. Luke asked again, with a tremor in his voice. "What happened?"
Han replied bluntly, "Hyperdrive got karked up," As Leia scowled, Han slowly rose himself upwards to stand with a groan.
Only then, Luke felt cold. It nipped at his skin, and an involuntary shiver ran through him. "I'm gonna go see where we are, because this.. oh this isn't good." Luke moaned.
"You go do that, Imma go check on Chewie," Han then looked towards Artoo and Threepio. The golden Protocol Droid lay flat on his faceplate, while Artoo stood straight. Both were shut down. "Looks like the Droids are out of order." The man huffed.
Leia seethed silently, not hiding the blush that filled her cheeks. Luke's gaze was focused entirely on the ground, as he felt.. off. Something isn't right. The Force was at an unsteady pace, and he reached out. It felt.. different. Like, he couldn't even describe it. It was dark. Almost.. unnatural. "I'm gonna go look outside.." Luke whispered.
The Princess only nodded, and turned her direction to the two Droids. Luke cautiously walked through the halls, heading directly for the exit of the Falcon. Pressing a few buttons, Luke eyed the ramp as it lowered. He saw white. A breeze of cold washed over young Skywalker, and he trembled once more. The Force hummed powerfully, feeling faintly familiar to the dark presence of Vader he experienced. It was an icy feeling, accompanying the physical feel of the ice that lay before him. His breath misted as he exhaled.
This was nothing like Hoth.
Trees and scraggly bushes filled the space before him, and even a few large logs where the Falcon hit were strewn before him. Skywalker lifted his boots to set food onto the snow. It was at least a foot deep, and the snow swallowed his boots whole. Focusing entirely on the Force, his reached out. As his senses filled the snow and icy air, he felt something. Something sinister. Something.. unnatrual.
Luke breathed an inward gasp, as suddenly a pair of glowing blue eyes flickered from the shadows of the trees. They stared him down, and so did he. They were an alluring azure color, the luminous glow abnormal.
The voice of Han filled his ears, and he jumped. The eyes were gone.
"Well kriff, kid. This ain't Hoth."