No. 14 DIE A HERO OR LIVE LONG ENOUGH TO BECOME A VILLAIN
Desperate Measures | Failed escape | "I'll be right behind you."
I've been meaning to write this since the summer, when I was looking through my copy of the Star Wars Atlas and realised how many cool things there are on Dagobah. (Yes, I'm obsessed with the elephoth.) And I just love Yoda. So I was glad I got to write this for Whumptober :D
Hope you enjoy!
Dagobah looked like a soggy, sweltering planet even from orbit; it turned Luke's stomach. But he couldn't deny the Force presence radiating off it. His father's hands, heavy as a pair of binders, landed on his shoulders.
"Soon, my son," he promised. "This is the final stage of your training. Embrace the dark side. You can sense that this planet is strong with it."
Luke closed his eyes and breathed it. It was. There was something down there that felt cold and rotten, that instinctively made him shy away. But he had been training under his father for long enough now that he knew how to let that rot run through him anyway, infect his veins like an infestation, until his breathing hitched from the sudden rush of power, and his eyes itched to shimmer gold.
Sometimes he watched himself in the mirror as he did this, reaching for the dark side he'd been taught to loathe, but that his father would not allow him to ignore. His eyes had never changed colour, much to the Emperor's chagrin. But he had been assured it would only be a matter of time.
"Once you have completed your mission, power will be yours. The title of Grand Inquisitor has been waiting for a worthy heir for a long time. You will wear it well, and those filth will grovel for you as they should."
Luke nodded wordlessly. His father's hands retracted.
"All you have to do is kill Yoda."
Luke had not been wrong about the humidity. It choked him, sweat sealing his black suit to his skin. He forced himself not to fidget. Palpatine had chastised him for that more than once; though his father was less strict, he did not want him to sense weakness. If he starting thinking Luke was not enough, he might look for another apprentice. Luke couldn't allow that.
They had barely stepped off the shuttle they descended in when it sank. Luke watched with a peculiar apathy as the swamp, spitting and sucking like a bubbling cauldron, swallowed half of it in one shift.
Vader glared. "That issue will be easily remedied," he informed Luke. For all that this was meant to be Luke's final test, he was clearly fussing. Luke had spent too much time with his father since he was captured: he knew that because he wasn't sure if Vader's fussing came from his fear that Luke would fail him and ruin his standing with the Emperor, or because he was genuinely worried or affectionate for him.
Either way, it was a dangerous path to tread. Luke tried not to, even if his thoughts inclined in that direction.
"The Empire," Vader continued, "will send another shuttle to escort us off planet if required."
Ben had said something similar about the Alliance. "Of course, Father," Luke said.
"In the meantime, we have a simple quest."
"I have a simple quest," Luke corrected quietly. His father did not blink.
"Indeed. Reach out with your feelings. You are one of the most powerful Force wielders who has ever lived. You will be able to find him"—a chittering flew overhead; something foul and yellow landed on Vader's shoulders, but he ignored it—"with ease."
Luke took a deep breath and reached out. Dagobah buzzed around him: every leaf, every piece of swamp, every twig, seemed to have an insect on it. It buzzed to his ears and it buzzed in the Force. He had never been somewhere so alive. Now that he was on the planet, sweat gluing his military-shorn hair to his scalp, he realised that the dark side wasn't strong everywhere, just in one specific spot. No doubt his father would want him to gravitate in that direction, but…
"I can't sense him," Luke said with a huff, dropping his hand. "I can't sense anything."
"Do not self-flagellate. You can sense a great deal."
He could sense the darkness from that one spot worming its way towards him, purring, certainly. "I can't sense another Jedi."
"You have a great deal of practise at sensing other Jedi. I find this unlikely."
"Can you sense him?"
"This is a test for you."
Luke scoffed and marched forwards. Vader, despite the blatant show of disrespect, didn't stop him.
"You will lose yourself in the swamp if you continue to march without a plan," he told him instead. "You may conduct yourself during this test as you see fit, but—"
"But you'll advise me where you can?" Luke asked. His voice came out gentler than he intended. He hated how caring his father had the nerve to be.
"I will ensure you do not die."
The epitome of fatherly concern.
"I can sense danger in this direction," Luke announced. The Inquisitor uniform he'd been wearing for so many months now that it fit like a second skin had boots, thankfully, because there was no recourse but to tramp through brackish, ankle-deep swamp water. Brown gunk splashed up to cling to his trousers. The whole ensemble felt restrictive, like the humidity had tightened it until he struggled to breath, even as he knew that it was designed to be blasterproof and easy to move in. His circular lightsaber flopped against his back like a fish gill's dying gasps for air. "We should go this way. Master Yoda's probably the most dangerous thing here, right?"
His sarcasm was lost on his father, who was far more interested in something else he'd said. "He is an old man who has dwelled and rotted here for nigh on twenty years. There is no danger from him." A pause. "And there is only one being you should call Master, Luke."
"I will not bow to Palpatine. You know that."
"Nor do I intend you to. Once you have the Inquisitors to heel, we can begin our coup. But you must use the title all the same."
Luke kept traipsing towards that feeling of danger. At least in a fight, Vader would lecture him about his piss-poor command of the dark side, rather than their destinies. "I don't—"
A shadow swooped out of nowhere and screamed in his face, nearly taking his head off. Luke ducked, hand instinctively going to his waist for his lightsaber. That moment of indecision cost him; by the time he'd reached for the circular lightsaber on his back, the massive reptilian thing had already snapped a pair of jaws as long as Luke's forearm shut around his bicep. Teeth like needles sunk in.
Luke shouted in pain. With his right arm, he lit the lightsaber and spun it lashing out at the creature's sinewy green body. It shrieked right in his ear, let go, and flapped away, staying airborne just far enough away that he couldn't reach it. He'd taken off its left leg.
"What the hell are you?" he spat. Blood had already drenched his upper bicep; he shook it and grimaced, trying to block it out.
"That is a bogwing, Luke." His father stood behind him, watching him gesture dramatically at it. "They are native to Naboo but enjoy most swamp climates."
"This one nearly tore my kriffing arm off."
"A future prince does not swear." Luke had not consented to the future prince thing. "Cease ignoring your pain. Let it flow through you. Use your anger, frustration, pain: it will fuel you. You can destroy this opponent."
His lightsaber wobbled in his hands. It must be heavier than that creature was, and that thing was as big as Luke. The tip kept sliding towards the ground; he struggled to hold it steady.
Vader snapped, "Do it!"
Luke had promised himself he'd throw himself into Vader's teachings. So he did it.
The pain fuzzed his head for a moment, making him want to double over, but even then, the rush of power that tingled through him started to stitch the wound together again. Not enough to stop it from hurting—it screamed as he wrenched himself and his grip on his lightsaber around again into a fighting stance, the weight dragging him down—but enough to be functional. Everything rang, loud and slow, like he was immersed in water.
The bogwing snapped at him again. Luke swung his lightsaber around to smash it into its wing before it took Luke's head off. It screeched, dropping to the ground and stumbling back, gangly and unwieldy. Luke glared daggers at it. His irises itched and burned.
"Good," Vader said, still behind him. "Bogwings are highly territorial. It will continue to see you as a threat and attack you until you dispatch it. Kill it."
Luke spun his lightsaber, marvelling at how light and easy it was in his hands. The bogwing moaned at the show of dominance, the threat, backing off more. It bared its teeth. Luke raised his lightsaber above him again, ready to strike.
But the creature was still moaning. It spread its one remaining wing behind it, like it was trying to shield something, but there was nothing there.
As far as Luke could tell. There might be everything there. A child in the undergrowth? An egg? Larvae? Anything?
Luke lowered his lightsaber. He extinguished it.
"What are you doing?" his father demanded. "It will—"
It launched itself at Luke, clamping its jaws around his legs this time. Luke toppled backwards into the swampy water. It filled his mouth and nose, tasting horrible. The bogwing was on top of him, its remaining foot clawed around his left leg while its jaws were around his right, shaking it like a shank of meat. He felt hot and wet.
A lightsaber flashed above him. The bogwing's head rolled.
"What a disappointment," Vader bit out, towering over Luke. Luke half-tried to turn his face back into the horrid water, to avoid his father's gaze. "You—"
A cacophony of shrieking. An entire flock of bogwings flapped in the trees above Vader, gathered into one, writhing knot—and dived.
"Look out," Luke whispered. Then he did close his eyes, because he couldn't bear to watch his father slaughter them like they were nothing.
He pushed himself into an upright position, still hissing from pain. His grip on the dark side had faltered, leaving him shivering, hollow, wanting. He wanted to touch it again. He wanted more. His leg stung like hell.
When he looked back up at his father, he was surrounded by the corpses of bogwings. One of them was dangling from his hand; his fist was around its throat, its tongue dribbling out the side of its maw. Luke lifted his gaze rather than stare into sightless eyes, and saw instead another pair of eyes, peering down at him from the trees.
"Get up," Vader ordered. "You will get your leg infected in that water."
"So much for the toughness of Inquisitor uniforms," Luke drawled.
"So much for the skill and awesome abilities of my son."
Luke was still looking up into the canopy above them. Snakes hung down from the trees; birds fluffed their wings; insects thronged the air. But there was also a tiny green creature on the highest branch, grinning at him.
His breath caught. He'd heard so many stories about the weirdness, the wisdom, the wildness of Master Yoda. Ben idolised him. Ahsoka thought he was amusing. Being grinned at by him was an honour.
"Luke," Vader snapped. "If you do not wish to be the Grand Inquisitor, you need only tell me. This pettiness is unbecoming of you."
If Luke told him, he would never accept it. He would force him to do it anyway. Or—worse—he would find someone who could.
Vader did not know about Leia. And so long as Luke did not disappoint him, he would never find out about Leia.
Which meant, if he had to be Vader's dutiful Sith son, he had to do this:
"Father," he said, standing up. He lit his lightsaber and stared at Yoda. "Look."
Vader turned. For several long seconds, he searched where Luke was pointing; his red-tinted vision likely struggled with all the foliage. Master Yoda stayed very still, his yellow teeth still bared in a grin.
When Vader saw him, he roared. Luke started at the sound. Yoda sprang from his hiding place and deeper into the swamp.
"After him!"
Luke heaved his injured leg forwards and ran for it. The plants and tree roots were thick, deep, squishy. He leapt over them in desperate pursuit, craning his neck to keep up with Master Yoda, who pranced and flipped and cartwheeled happily above him. His leg was screaming; Luke tried to bolster himself with the pain again, stabilise himself with the dark side, but it slipped through his fingers. Tears of desperation joined the sweat on his cheeks.
He didn't come to a halt by choice. In one clearing, there was one tree root that his leg was too heavy for him to yank over. It smashed into his knee, and he tumbled back into the swamp, the breath oomphing out of his lungs.
Lying there, chilly and wet, he let out a quiet sob.
His leg still hurt like hell, but he forced himself to his feet, swaying. He glanced around. His father was nowhere to be seen—and Luke couldn't sense him, because of how alive this place was. He vanished into the noise. As did Master Yoda.
But Yoda was still right above him, watching him curiously.
Luke let his shoulders slump when he noticed him. He imagined that Master Yoda had heard a lot about Padawan Luke Skywalker from Ben, over the years they'd been travelling the galaxy together, and loathed to imagine what he must think of him now. He stood there and waited for him to speak.
His lightsaber had fallen from his hand and into the swamp, vanishing below the surface. Luke reached down to pick it up again, groping around. He had to wade deeper into the swamp, knee deep, before he found it again. But find it he did. He winced at re-establishing the connection with those hurt, angry kyber crystals. It was a brick in his hand.
"Much fear I sense in you," Master Yoda said at last. "Hmm?"
"I don't know what you mean," Luke said.
Master Yoda hummed. "Much fear they sense too, oh yes."
Luke blinked. "What—"
The strike was almost too fast for him to dodge, but Luke was thrumming with energy still. The massive, dragon-like head struck out of nowhere. He splashed wildly out of the way, lighting his saber to swing in that general direction, but the creature sank out of sight again.
"What was that?" Luke asked. "What was that?"
Master Yoda nodded sagely. "Much fear," he decided.
The surface of the water shattered again, and Luke threw himself back. The head lunged for his torso; panicking, he smacked it between the eyes with the hilt of his saber, but it still knocked into him and took him under. Slimy water enveloped him; Luke, with some difficultly, opened his eyes. He choked.
That thing was easily as long as an X-wing: a thin, scaly body, with a dragon-like head and claws to match that comparison. It glared at him, showing yellow teeth fuzzed with green, and shot forwards again.
Luke leapt out of the water, the Force shoving him as fast as was possible, and then even faster. He landed on a slippery tree root, nearly broke his ankle trying not to fall back in, and watched the beast surface. Its narrowed eyes fixed on Luke.
He drew his lightsaber and swung. He missed. It slunk forwards, jaws widening. He struck again. Missed. Its front legs began to climb out of the water; he backed up along the tree's root system, swinging…
He almost unbalanced himself with his last swing. But the lightsaber refused to hit. Its weight seesawed from tip to hilt; it was the most poorly balanced blade he'd ever wielded. The creature gave him a look like it pitied him and kept climbing.
Luke deactivated the lightsaber and slung it back onto his back. It wasn't doing him any good. Instead, he backed up, kept climbing, and reached out his hands.
"Please," he murmured. The creature's yellow eyes—yellower than his could ever turn, it seemed—narrowed at him. "I don't want to hurt you."
He pushed those feelings towards it. Felt the jumble of emotions, and—
Dagobah was overwhelming. The moment he reached out, his consciousness slipped out of his body, and then he was staring at himself. The tiny brain of the creature encompassed him nicely, co-existing with his like a part of him was a part of them, anywhere. And he felt from it only more pity.
He looked pathetic. So small, and so scared.
He blinked, and then he was back in his own body. Raising his hands, he calmed his voice, but couldn't stop it from shaking. "I'm not going to hurt you. I don't want to hurt you. I am afraid, but not of you."
The creature stared at him, long and hard. Then it blinked and slithered away.
"Satisfied, the dragonsnake is, hmm." Master Yoda was still above him. He thumped his stick against the tree. "The dark side, you seem to struggle with."
Luke reached for his lightsaber again and tried to look scary. For Leia. For the others—the entire Jedi Order he had sworn to defend. He wanted Master Yoda to tell them not to come and rescue him. "I don't struggle. I'll end you—"
"Catch me first, you must," Master Yoda said cheekily. Luke blinked and he was gone.
"Hey!"
He sprinted after him. His leg still hurt and hurt and hurt, but it was inconsequential compared to this. He had no idea where he was going, only that it was towards Master Yoda. Only that there was no turning back.
He cast out his senses, searching for anything that felt ancient, anything that felt wise, anything that felt… green. The whole place felt green, unsurprisingly, but Luke's father was right: he was one of the most powerful Force-wielders to ever live. Dagobah still fizzed in his mind, but it had shapes now.
Abruptly, he halted. A shadow lurched through the undergrowth. He lit his lightsaber and swung around the tree, unleashing a yell.
He was brought up short.
Above him, a great pair of green tusks loomed over him, each one as thick as a cannon. Flabby folds of skin enveloped them, moss and lichen growing over every inch of the creature. Dark, wise eyes staring down at him. That thing was the size of an AT-AT.
That wasn't Master Yoda.
The giggling behind him was, though. Luke spun around, glaring. Master Yoda was giggling above them both.
"An elephoth, I am not, young Skywalker. But good to know, it is, that judge me by my size, you do not." There was a merry twinkle in his eye. Luke's heart ached with yearning.
He wanted to be anywhere but here.
Apparently, he was haemorrhaging misery. The elephoth lifted its trunk and patted him on the head. The moss and other green growths on it were rough against his damp, slimy hair, but the gesture was so caring, so paternal, that Luke wanted to cry. Its eyes were so deep and ancient.
He put his hand on the trunk when it lowered and stroked it in return. "Thank you," he said. The words were stiff in his throat. "I needed that."
Master Yoda was gone. He could sense that in the ecosystem here: sense the shifting life forms, how they related to each other. Once he slowed down it was all right there.
His father would have him destroy it all.
"I need to go," he said stiffly. "I need to—"
The elephoth waved goodbye. Luke stumbled away, grimacing. There was another glade up ahead, where a number of animals were congregating for some reason; was that Yoda? Were they congregating around…
He stopped when he got in. Several massive white spiders—marsh spiders, like the base on Atollon, he guessed—were gathering around a rotting corpse. What it was, he didn't know. He didn't stick around to find out.
It wasn't until he cast his net out again, flexing his Force sense like a muscle, that he realised how close Master Yoda had led him to that spot of darkness that overwhelmed the planet. He swallowed. The more time he spent here, the more he understood why Master Yoda had wanted to hide here: such a powerful, ancient presence easily blended in with the life, the strength, and the wrestle between dark and light. Surely the main place he would go to hide, were he being stalked by dark siders, the last place he'd expect them to look, would be in the heart of the darkness itself?
He stumbled towards it. The closer he grew, the more the temperature dropped. At first it was a horrible relief, like when his father swept in to save him from more agonising training, but then it chilled the sweat on his arms until it froze. He forged onwards. The Force was electric around him. He could hardly think for himself. He hardly knew what he was doing anymore. He just had to find…
It was a cave. Perfect. That was exactly where he'd expect someone to hide.
He didn't hesitate to climb down into it. The smell that filled his nostrils was musty, rank; snakes slithered in and around the entrance, while lizards marched deeper in. He kept walking. The Force here… cold wrapped around his heart. He smiled, but it was like something was puppeteering his cheek muscles. Something that only had a vague idea of what a smile was.
"Master Yoda?" he called. "I'm sure you're in here. You can't—" He turned the corner and cut himself off. Someone was waiting for him. It wasn't Master Yoda.
A figure clad head to toe in Inquisitor's armour, her circular lightsaber held lazily at her side, stood waiting for him. Her casual, mocking demeanour betrayed who exactly it was under the helmet.
"Seventh Sister," he got out.
She tilted his head. "Little lordling," she crooned. He hated that nickname. She knew he did. But Vader had banned him from using his name around the Inquisitors—they had none, after all—and she had to call him something if she were to be cruel to him. Reminding a Jedi of their imminent conversion to Sith Lord had been good enough for her. "What are you doing so far out of your depth? Who do you think you're protecting?" She laughed that horrible cackle of hers. "It's sweet."
"You're not meant to be here," Luke said, heart pounding. If she convinced everyone he wasn't good enough—if she blew it for him— "This is my test."
"One that you're failing. You think you can be the Grand Inquisitor? Doubtful. I will take that role, when you fail." She lit her lightsaber.
Luke, belatedly, cursing himself for still failing to adapt to the Sith's aggressive tactics, lit his in response.
But the duel was over in three strokes. She struck his left, almost insultingly slowly; he parried and, in his fear, pushed back. He spun his lightsaber in that intimidation tactic they all used and advanced; she lashed out again, and he deflected it. With one strike, he cut off her hand.
She fell to her knees mechanically, a marionette with its strings cut. "Such a Jedi," she gloated, apparently unbothered by the loss of her limb. "De-escalation. Why not swing for the kill?"
"I'll do that now, if it matters so much to you." He raised his lightsaber above his head.
But he couldn't do it. Something felt wrong.
There was no life in this cave. Every inch of Dagobah thrummed with life, but in this cave, even the lizards and snakes didn't seem to be living. The Seventh Sister definitely wasn't. She…
She wasn't actually here.
Fear gripped his heart again. He wanted to run, to get out of here as fast as he could. The dark side, even after months of immersion, repulsed him so much.
But he had a job to do.
"Take off your helmet," he ordered. If this was a vision, he needed to know what it was for. What was at the heart of it. She looked at him, expressionless. "Take it off!"
"No," she said mockingly. Luke surged forwards and ripped it off for her.
It fell to the ground from numb, insensible fingers.
His sister's face glared back at him. Her long hair, so important to her, had been cut close to the scalp in a military cut like his. She snarled at him, her lips curling. Her eyes were the vicious yellow that Luke could never get his to hold.
"Just wait, Luke," she said, now in his sister's voice. But it wasn't Leia's voice, because he had never heard Leia speak to him with that much venom. "I meant what I said. When you fail, I will be the Grand Inquisitor in your place."
Luke closed his eyes. "No," he whispered. "You won't be."
When he opened his eyes, she was gone.
Distantly, he heard a bird singing. It was an unexpectedly soothing song, and it drew him out of the cave—almost. He found a cubby beside the entrance and curled up there for a moment, taking a deep breath.
He needed to get up. If he didn't—well. Too many fears ran on a carousel inside him. And it was spinning too fast for him to discern which fear he was feeling right now.
When they had been racing through the Path, trying to escape the Sith Lord hounding them, it had been such an easy decision to turn around. Their escape would have failed if he hadn't; he knew that still. So it had been easy to promise Leia and Ezra that he'd be right behind them, he was just sealing the doors, then to seal the doors with him on the wrong side. Halting Vader in his galloping tracks with one, world-shattering declaration.
He'd gone with his father, to distract him from the others. He'd served the Inquisitors, to prevent him from reaching further and sensing Leia. He had been so desperate.
It might all have been in vain.
"Hiding, are we, hmm?"
Luke didn't look up.
"A good plan, hiding is. Stay alive, that way. But not here. No, not here. A domain of evil, this is."
"I noticed," Luke grumbled. His words were muffled by his knees.
Master Yoda laughed. "Come out, will you? Or stay there forever, plan you to?"
Luke considered chasing him. He wasn't sure he had the energy left. All of this was just so much. Channelling the light and the dark for months had been a strain, but here… with all of this…
"Come with me, you will." There were rough hands on him. A stick hit him. Luke barely managed a muffled ow. "Something to show you, I have."
Despite himself, he followed. His lightsaber was very, very heavy at his side.
Master Yoda glanced at it as they walked. "A powerful lightsaber that is, hmm?" he asked. "But not powerful in your hands. No, not powerful in your hands."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Difficulty with the dark side, you have."
"Thanks for pointing it out."
"Here, we are." Master Yoda stopped, and Luke stopped shambling along behind him. Everything hurt, but he couldn't draw on that for strength, anymore. It just sapped his energy. "My humble home, this is."
Luke raised his eyebrows at it. "That is an escape pod inside a hollow tree." The tree trunk was pretty spectacular, and vines did hang down in an almost artfully creepy way, but Luke knew too much about getaway ships not to recognise one when he saw one.
"Object to that, I do!" Master Yoda insisted. "An escape pod, that is not. A fully functional ship, rather."
"That's so much better. Is this the part where you escape?" Luke wasn't going to stop him. He couldn't. Both literally—the way Master Yoda held that stick told him he would be mean with it—and he didn't have the heart to.
Vader didn't know about Leia yet. He only knew about the small order of Jedi Luke had been travelling with, and Luke had lied as much as he could about them. From there… Luke would sabotage all he could.
"Trouble on Jabiim, Obi-Wan has run into. Obi-Wan and all the others. Help, they require."
Luke's mouth dried up. "Inquisitors?"
"Indeed."
"Then you need to go."
"Stay, you intend to?"
Luke shook his head. "I need to protect them," he said.
"Protection, they need."
"So long as I'm here, Vader won't have his attention on them. He won't try looking for Leia, or the others."
"Faith in your sister, you should have. A better Jedi than you, she is."
Luke huffed a laugh. "Yeah. I know. I still—" He cut himself off, stiffening.
Master Yoda sighed. "A tragedy, this is," he decided. "A tragedy, I should like to fix. In my navicomputer, the coordinates already are. With me, you should come."
"You need to go," Luke hissed. He reached for his lightsaber and gestured. Gestured, like he was about to attack Master Yoda. "He's—"
"Excellent, my son."
Vader seemed to materialise out of nowhere. Luke knew that wasn't true, knew that he just blended in with the darkness of the swamps, but it chilled him, nonetheless.
"Now, your training is complete. Kill him." Vader looked Master Yoda over. "He is an ancient bag of rot, anyway."
"To new life, rot leads," Yoda said calmly. Vader looked at him like he was insane.
"Kill him, Luke." His gaze landed on Yoda's ship as well. "Were you intending to go somewhere?"
"A lovely place, the galaxy can be."
"No doubt to help the Jedi my Inquisitors are close to exterminating," Vader surmised. He strode for the ship. "Kill him, Luke, and I will extract the coordinates of these Jedi. We will destroy them once and for—"
It wasn't a conscious thought that made Luke move. It was just love, running scant and starved through his veins. He threw himself between Vader and the ship.
"Don't," he said.
Vader dismissed him. "Do not be a fool. This will finally be the end of the Jedi Order—you can leave your weak past behind you. Step aside and kill that fool."
Luke lit his lightsaber. It fought him, even now. It was the weapon of the dark side, and what he was feeling was the antithesis to darkness.
He lit it all the same.
"I can't let you do this, Father," he told him.
Vader studied him. "I had thought you had recovered from your ill-conceived loyalties, Luke."
"I never recovered," Luke spat. "They're my family."
"I am your family!" But Vader lit his lightsaber in response.
The first strike his father dealt him was brutal. His parry was perfect despite the blade's reticence, but that meant nothing against Vader's sheer strength. He batted it aside like a tooka with a toy. It swung back and smashed Luke in the jaw. Luke hit the damp, wet ground.
He touched his cheek. It burned and stung, bringing tears to his eyes, but that blow should have carved through his skull. Unless…
"I do not wish to hurt you, my son," Vader emphasised. "Stand down."
He had switched his lightsaber to training mode. That, peculiarly, gave Luke strength.
He bolted to his feet and launched himself at him.
Vader parried easily. Each of Luke's blows glanced off his defence with a shimmering elegance, no matter how fast he tried to move. The shifting lightsaber in his grip pulled him left, right; he overcompensated, he undercompensated. He spun the saber in its flashy arc, both hands tight on the hilt to punch as much strength into his blows as he could muster. Vader fended him off with one hand.
"Luke. You are a better duellist than this. Cease embarrassing yourself, cease disappointing me, and cease resisting."
Luke kicked out. That occasionally worked against Inquisitors, when they weren't expecting it. But Vader's knee was made of metal; the only thing that gave way was Luke's foot.
Vader backhanded him across the face. Luke fell with a squelch into the mud. The same cheek that had been burnt by the saber had been shattered by that durasteel fist; he could feel something broken, feel blood pumping from his nose. His father had almost rearranged his face.
Despite this brutality, Vader's tone was gentle. "Cease your petty loyalties. Once they are dead and gone, you can finally move on. Perhaps, if it would grant you strength, I can have them captured, so that once you grow past this weakness you will have the certainty of killing them yourself—"
"No." Luke bowed his head, his whole frame shuddering. He was going to be sick. His lies were finally catching up to him. He hadn't been good enough.
But he would not stop trying to be.
His lightsaber had fallen in the soft mud away from him. He reached for it, closing his fist around the hilt. The kyber crystals sneered at him. He ignored them the same way he'd ignored all the other sneers he'd received since joining the Empire.
"You will not touch my family," Luke said under his breath.
"Luke?"
He threw himself to his feet, channelled that antithesis-to-darkness emotion in his chest, lit his dual lightsaber, and bellowed: "You will not touch my family!"
When he struck, the light was enough to blind him. It was certainly enough to blind Vader. His lightsaber was glowing, radiating like a star, brighter and brighter as Luke hammered at Vader's one-handed defence, forced him to retreat, forced him to put his other hand on the hilt. He moved forwards, quicker and lighter on his feet. When he struck, his blade worked with him. He struck true.
Master Yoda said, "Forgotten, had I, the immense power of Skywalker."
Luke just kept striking. And when he had driven Vader back, back, back to the edge of a ditch through which dark, muddy, foul-smelling water flowed, he lashed out with those stupid, tight-fitting Inquisitor's boots, connected with Vader's torso, and kicked him in.
Vader hit the bottom of the ditch with a massive thud. Mud squelched under his bulk. For a moment, Luke feared that he'd damaged his father's systems, but he could still hear them, whirring away.
Vader's lightsaber had fallen out of his hand. Luke summoned it towards him, then tossed it as far away as he could. He spun his own saber slowly in his hand, thinking. Its arc was a bright, brilliant gold. The same colour that his eyes had not, should never have, been.
"I love you, Father," Luke said tightly. He said it with his whole chest. "You are my family. But the only reason I told you my name was to distract you, so that the others could escape."
Vader stared up at him, aghast. "Luke."
"I won't let you find them. I won't let you kill them. When you come after us, you will have to kill me before you can lay a finger on any of them."
"Stop this at once, Luke," Vader insisted, though his voice was shaking under the vocoder. "Return your lightsaber to its natural colour—"
"This is a natural colour. This is what it is supposed to be." Luke thought of his first meeting with his father. That first gamble he'd taken, and how it had ended. "And this is who I'm supposed to be."
Destiny was strange, sometimes.
He said, "Sleep, Father." And Vader slept.
Luke didn't know how long he stood there, staring at him.
"Many trials, you have undergone," Master Yoda said over the chirping crickets. Luke kept staring at his father's unconscious form. He'd bought them some time, but not much of it.
"Yeah," he replied distantly. "You could say that."
"Your Jedi Trials."
"What?"
Master Yoda held out a hand. Luke didn't really stop him as he tugged Luke's lightsaber away from him and into his own hands. Nor did he resist the slight pull bidding him to kneel in front of the small incline Yoda stood on.
Yoda lit the lightsaber, still that brilliant sunlight yellow. He rested it very carefully on Luke's right shoulder, then his left.
"Many trials, you have faced," he repeated. "This colour lightsaber, wielded by many, has been. All of them, great protectors of the Jedi Order. All of them, the greatest of all Jedi. In this age of darkness, more of such knights, we need."
He deactivated Luke's lightsaber and offered it to him. For once, it was light and agile in his hands when he took it.
"An Inquisitor, you have never been. Grand Inquisitor, you never will be. Instead, served the Jedi Order valiantly, you have. Name you, I do, the Grand Protector of the Jedi Order. Rise, Knight Skywalker."
Luke rose.
"I joined the dark side," he said. "I used the dark side, I— Ben always said there was no going back."
"Central to a Jedi's life, compassion is," Yoda said serenely. "No darkness but that born of compassion, I sense in you." He hesitated, then said in a warm tone: "Compassion, I can show you, also."
Luke, against his better judgement, turned towards his father. He pinched his lips together. "I can't leave him here," he said.
Yoda inclined his head, but Luke hadn't waited for his approval. He reached for his father's unconscious body, found his comlink, and sent a message with his coordinates to the Executor. Someone would find his father. And then, later…
Later, they would see what Luke's compassion could do.
He would see his father again. And despite what Luke had spat at him, his father would never kill him. He was certain of that.
"They're on their way," Luke said, reading the prompt reply that Piett sent.
"Then leave, we must." Master Yoda gave Luke a smirk. "Ready, you are?"
Luke nodded. Following his grandmaster's lead, he stepped into the home-ship. His order needed help. It was time to join them, again.