Palpatine's throne room was shrouded in silence and darkness. The massive
windows, showing a striking view of the Coruscant skyline, were covered in
acres of draped dark cloth, blocking out the light. Stone columns and
balustrades loomed dark and menacing in the shadows cast by flickering
sconces.
Darth Vader entered, hearing his footsteps purposefully carrying him forward, his own breathing loud in his ears. He moved up the stairs in silence, noting distantly the red-cloaked Imperial guards standing ready in the shadows, the air of menace that seemed to permeate the very stone.
Palpatine was seated on his throne, the heavy black fabric of his robe sweeping out at his feet, white hands resting against the arms of the throne, yellow eyes peering out from the cowl of his robe, watching the dark lord advance.
Vader bowed before the Emperor, gazing submissively at the rough stone floor, feeling clearly his master's irritation.
"What is it you want, Lord Vader?" The voice held the slight menace of impatience, the faint threat of his anger. Keeping his head bowed, Vader made a conscious effort to push down his apprehension. His request would perhaps anger his master further, but the dark lord felt compelled to make it.
"It has been many days," he began, thanking the fact that the vocorder was able to mask the slight tremor in his voice. "I wish to know the whereabouts and condition of my son."
There was a silence. Darth Vader was not quite sure what kind of reaction he was to expect from his master—-maybe an outburst of anger or an impatient command for him leave. Since when did Vader have any say concerning his own son? He realized that now, saw in painful hindsight the mistake he had made in hunting the boy down and bringing him back to his master.
"I left strict instructions that I was not to be disturbed," the Emperor said quietly, stony eyes boring into the black, featureless helmet. "Why have you deliberately disobeyed me?"
Vader dropped his gaze to the floor. "To locate Luke," he said quietly, surprised at his own boldness. "If I may."
The response was one he didn't expect. Palpatine laughed. It was a grating, chilling sound, shaking Vader to the core. The Emperor rose to his feet, cane striking hard against the floor.
"Your own compassion is your undoing, my friend." The dark lord continued to stare at the floor. "Did you honestly believe that in hunting the boy and capturing him that you would be able to restore some long-dead father- son bond that you fantasize exists between you?"
Vader shut his eyes. Yes. For some horribly deluded reason he had believed that.
"Skywalker is now mine," Palpatine smiled, pacing casually before his throne, gnarled cane brushing the floor with rhythmic precision, white hand gesturing for Vader to rise. "Dismiss him from your thoughts. Your son is no longer of any concern to you, Lord Vader."
Vader pushed to his feet, towering well over the wizened old man, refusing, at least for a moment, to be dismissed. "I wish to know that he is unharmed."
Palpatine would have arched eyebrows if he had them. His dangerous anger spoke through his piercing yellow eyes, warning Vader to take heed. "Then know that he is unharmed," he replied, turning from his henchman and resettling himself on his throne.
"Is there something further that you require, Lord Vader?" Palpatine asked in what was clearly a dismissal.
Common sense warned the dark lord not to interfere further with the Emperor. But Vader ignored the warning. Now he avoided the hard yellow gaze of his master, knowing that Palpatine could see straight to his soul. "I wish to see my son," he repeated.
Palpatine laughed again, a horrible, mocking sound. "Do you, now?" he asked. "My, you are playing the part of the doting father now. There was a while when I was convinced your black heart was devoid of human feeling." He chuckled again. Vader bristled, but kept his temper—-and the fear in his heart—-in check. His hopes to be able to at least see Luke were waning.
Two of the nearest red-cloaked Imperial guards disappeared into the shadows as Palpatine sat there, regarding Vader thoughtfully. "Compassion is a foolish weakness, my friend. It will one day be the means of bringing about your downfall." His eyes hardened. Vader knew his master was threatening him. Palpatine continued leisurely. "But please don't say I never warned you," he murmured. He tilted his head towards the two guards. "Your son, Lord Vader."
They dragged a dark form between them and dropped him unceremoniously at Vader's feet. The figure, tangled in a long dark robe, managed to land on his hands and knees, biting back a cry of pain as he fell. Vader watched, outwardly emotionless. Luke slid to the floor in a sigh of black robe and curled into a fetal position, trembling, his rapid breathing audible from where the dark lord stood. In the shadows the firelight flickered across the boy's features, showing a deep cut across his eye and his light hair matted with dried blood.
Vader looked from his master to his son again. Palpatine was watching him, waiting for what he'd do, ready to pounce upon his protégé's weakness. The hood of the robe had fallen away from Luke's face, revealing the mass of bruises and cuts. The boy's eyes, tightly shut, cracked open against the firelight, bloodshot and in pain, to see the towering figure standing over him. A shiver went through his body and he seemed to curl tighter against the floor as if it would offer some protection. Bruised lips moved to form words Vader couldn't hear. He only saw his son mouth the word *father.*
Not looking at his master, Darth Vader took a step forward and crouched over Luke. The Jedi stiffened, his eyes shut. Bloodied, bruised hands flew weakly as if to push the dark lord away.
"May I have permission to take him to his quarters?" Vader asked, shutting his eyes and his mind to his son's pain and turning to face the Emperor.
Palpatine laughed again. "Your image as a father figure is endearing, my friend," he chuckled sardonically. "Though it may be too late for you to win the boy now."
Vader got his arm underneath Luke's shoulders and pushed to his feet, lifting his son with little effort, facing the Emperor and the consequences, quashing the fear in his heart, and ignoring the hard yellow eyes boring into him in silence. Perhaps he would be punished for this, perhaps not. It no longer mattered what happened.
"I will take him to his quarters," he said simply. The Emperor didn't answer, the red-cloaked guards didn't move as Vader turned to leave the way he had come.
********
Vader entered the pristine, immaculate quarters, Luke's unconscious form a deadweight in his arms. But he did not notice the physical burden—-only the weight of his own guilt pressing against his mind.
He laid the lifeless Jedi on the large black bed, watching his son for several long moments, trying to decide what to do, unconsciously watching to make sure the young man was still breathing.
Vader paced to the window and then back again, unsure of what to do. It was too quiet, too peaceful to be right, considering the horrors that had taken place. The silence was all wrong.
A second furtive glance at his son showed Luke's eyes were open. They were staring, half-conscious, unfocused in Vader's general direction.
The dark lord approached closer to the bedside, laying a careful hand on the young man's shoulder. "Are you thirsty, my son?"
Luke managed a nod.
Vader moved with a quiet swish of silken black cape to the small table by the massive windows and poured a glass of water. But even with help, Luke was not very successful in drinking it.
Vader put the glass back and hesitantly resorted to pacing again, his mind spinning with what to do. Luke's eyes, pained and troubled, slowly tracked his father's movements.
Vader stopped pacing, his mechanical breathing sounding deafening in his own ears. He had never felt such a loss of words before in his life. "Do you need anything, Luke?" he asked.
The young man didn't respond, his eyes glazed with a blank torpor, looking as though he was hardly conscious of his surroundings. Vader felt guilt again. He'd allowed for his son to fall at the mercies of Palpatine. The Jedi looked drugged and beaten, haggard and exhausted, stripped of all that he valued, friendless and hopeless.
"I am a man of few words, my son," the dark lord began again, clenching a black-clad fist at his side. "My ability to express my emotions fails me, presently." Luke's cloudy gaze still watched him. Perhaps he could hear what his father was saying, perhaps not. Vader paced at the foot of the bed again.
"What I wish to say to you, son, before it is perhaps too late to express regrets..." Luke's eyes drifted closed. Vader clenched gloved fists again. "I wanted to acknowledge that I made a mistake....in bringing you into this..." he swallowed, guilt tugging at his mind again, smarting with new self- accusations. "...In turning you over to the Emperor. My actions were foolish."
He turned to half-regard the large room, the cold, immaculate furnishings, the wan sun filtering through the window, casting the room in an eerie glow. All of it was cold and impersonal. Much as he felt he had been. Why was it he was only beginning to see, now that it was virtually too late to act. What had he done? Perhaps it would take years for him to finally realize... He turned back to Luke. The young man's eyes were shut. He had clearly lost again to a drugged sleep and would not hear.
The dark lord cleared his throat, taking a small step toward the side of the Luke's bed. "Though the time may be too late to admit this," he murmured, his regret a lead weight in his stomach, "I want you to know that I am sorry." He reached out a black-clad arm, hearing the sound of his mechanical breather, and knowing that he must look the monster. Vader touched the Jedi's feverish temple, projecting what comfort and assurance he could into his apology.
"My son....I'm sorry." Only coldness and emptiness responded. Luke's mind was silent, the room ghostly quiet.
Slowly, Vader straightened, turned, and left the room the way he had come.
*******************
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Darth Vader entered, hearing his footsteps purposefully carrying him forward, his own breathing loud in his ears. He moved up the stairs in silence, noting distantly the red-cloaked Imperial guards standing ready in the shadows, the air of menace that seemed to permeate the very stone.
Palpatine was seated on his throne, the heavy black fabric of his robe sweeping out at his feet, white hands resting against the arms of the throne, yellow eyes peering out from the cowl of his robe, watching the dark lord advance.
Vader bowed before the Emperor, gazing submissively at the rough stone floor, feeling clearly his master's irritation.
"What is it you want, Lord Vader?" The voice held the slight menace of impatience, the faint threat of his anger. Keeping his head bowed, Vader made a conscious effort to push down his apprehension. His request would perhaps anger his master further, but the dark lord felt compelled to make it.
"It has been many days," he began, thanking the fact that the vocorder was able to mask the slight tremor in his voice. "I wish to know the whereabouts and condition of my son."
There was a silence. Darth Vader was not quite sure what kind of reaction he was to expect from his master—-maybe an outburst of anger or an impatient command for him leave. Since when did Vader have any say concerning his own son? He realized that now, saw in painful hindsight the mistake he had made in hunting the boy down and bringing him back to his master.
"I left strict instructions that I was not to be disturbed," the Emperor said quietly, stony eyes boring into the black, featureless helmet. "Why have you deliberately disobeyed me?"
Vader dropped his gaze to the floor. "To locate Luke," he said quietly, surprised at his own boldness. "If I may."
The response was one he didn't expect. Palpatine laughed. It was a grating, chilling sound, shaking Vader to the core. The Emperor rose to his feet, cane striking hard against the floor.
"Your own compassion is your undoing, my friend." The dark lord continued to stare at the floor. "Did you honestly believe that in hunting the boy and capturing him that you would be able to restore some long-dead father- son bond that you fantasize exists between you?"
Vader shut his eyes. Yes. For some horribly deluded reason he had believed that.
"Skywalker is now mine," Palpatine smiled, pacing casually before his throne, gnarled cane brushing the floor with rhythmic precision, white hand gesturing for Vader to rise. "Dismiss him from your thoughts. Your son is no longer of any concern to you, Lord Vader."
Vader pushed to his feet, towering well over the wizened old man, refusing, at least for a moment, to be dismissed. "I wish to know that he is unharmed."
Palpatine would have arched eyebrows if he had them. His dangerous anger spoke through his piercing yellow eyes, warning Vader to take heed. "Then know that he is unharmed," he replied, turning from his henchman and resettling himself on his throne.
"Is there something further that you require, Lord Vader?" Palpatine asked in what was clearly a dismissal.
Common sense warned the dark lord not to interfere further with the Emperor. But Vader ignored the warning. Now he avoided the hard yellow gaze of his master, knowing that Palpatine could see straight to his soul. "I wish to see my son," he repeated.
Palpatine laughed again, a horrible, mocking sound. "Do you, now?" he asked. "My, you are playing the part of the doting father now. There was a while when I was convinced your black heart was devoid of human feeling." He chuckled again. Vader bristled, but kept his temper—-and the fear in his heart—-in check. His hopes to be able to at least see Luke were waning.
Two of the nearest red-cloaked Imperial guards disappeared into the shadows as Palpatine sat there, regarding Vader thoughtfully. "Compassion is a foolish weakness, my friend. It will one day be the means of bringing about your downfall." His eyes hardened. Vader knew his master was threatening him. Palpatine continued leisurely. "But please don't say I never warned you," he murmured. He tilted his head towards the two guards. "Your son, Lord Vader."
They dragged a dark form between them and dropped him unceremoniously at Vader's feet. The figure, tangled in a long dark robe, managed to land on his hands and knees, biting back a cry of pain as he fell. Vader watched, outwardly emotionless. Luke slid to the floor in a sigh of black robe and curled into a fetal position, trembling, his rapid breathing audible from where the dark lord stood. In the shadows the firelight flickered across the boy's features, showing a deep cut across his eye and his light hair matted with dried blood.
Vader looked from his master to his son again. Palpatine was watching him, waiting for what he'd do, ready to pounce upon his protégé's weakness. The hood of the robe had fallen away from Luke's face, revealing the mass of bruises and cuts. The boy's eyes, tightly shut, cracked open against the firelight, bloodshot and in pain, to see the towering figure standing over him. A shiver went through his body and he seemed to curl tighter against the floor as if it would offer some protection. Bruised lips moved to form words Vader couldn't hear. He only saw his son mouth the word *father.*
Not looking at his master, Darth Vader took a step forward and crouched over Luke. The Jedi stiffened, his eyes shut. Bloodied, bruised hands flew weakly as if to push the dark lord away.
"May I have permission to take him to his quarters?" Vader asked, shutting his eyes and his mind to his son's pain and turning to face the Emperor.
Palpatine laughed again. "Your image as a father figure is endearing, my friend," he chuckled sardonically. "Though it may be too late for you to win the boy now."
Vader got his arm underneath Luke's shoulders and pushed to his feet, lifting his son with little effort, facing the Emperor and the consequences, quashing the fear in his heart, and ignoring the hard yellow eyes boring into him in silence. Perhaps he would be punished for this, perhaps not. It no longer mattered what happened.
"I will take him to his quarters," he said simply. The Emperor didn't answer, the red-cloaked guards didn't move as Vader turned to leave the way he had come.
********
Vader entered the pristine, immaculate quarters, Luke's unconscious form a deadweight in his arms. But he did not notice the physical burden—-only the weight of his own guilt pressing against his mind.
He laid the lifeless Jedi on the large black bed, watching his son for several long moments, trying to decide what to do, unconsciously watching to make sure the young man was still breathing.
Vader paced to the window and then back again, unsure of what to do. It was too quiet, too peaceful to be right, considering the horrors that had taken place. The silence was all wrong.
A second furtive glance at his son showed Luke's eyes were open. They were staring, half-conscious, unfocused in Vader's general direction.
The dark lord approached closer to the bedside, laying a careful hand on the young man's shoulder. "Are you thirsty, my son?"
Luke managed a nod.
Vader moved with a quiet swish of silken black cape to the small table by the massive windows and poured a glass of water. But even with help, Luke was not very successful in drinking it.
Vader put the glass back and hesitantly resorted to pacing again, his mind spinning with what to do. Luke's eyes, pained and troubled, slowly tracked his father's movements.
Vader stopped pacing, his mechanical breathing sounding deafening in his own ears. He had never felt such a loss of words before in his life. "Do you need anything, Luke?" he asked.
The young man didn't respond, his eyes glazed with a blank torpor, looking as though he was hardly conscious of his surroundings. Vader felt guilt again. He'd allowed for his son to fall at the mercies of Palpatine. The Jedi looked drugged and beaten, haggard and exhausted, stripped of all that he valued, friendless and hopeless.
"I am a man of few words, my son," the dark lord began again, clenching a black-clad fist at his side. "My ability to express my emotions fails me, presently." Luke's cloudy gaze still watched him. Perhaps he could hear what his father was saying, perhaps not. Vader paced at the foot of the bed again.
"What I wish to say to you, son, before it is perhaps too late to express regrets..." Luke's eyes drifted closed. Vader clenched gloved fists again. "I wanted to acknowledge that I made a mistake....in bringing you into this..." he swallowed, guilt tugging at his mind again, smarting with new self- accusations. "...In turning you over to the Emperor. My actions were foolish."
He turned to half-regard the large room, the cold, immaculate furnishings, the wan sun filtering through the window, casting the room in an eerie glow. All of it was cold and impersonal. Much as he felt he had been. Why was it he was only beginning to see, now that it was virtually too late to act. What had he done? Perhaps it would take years for him to finally realize... He turned back to Luke. The young man's eyes were shut. He had clearly lost again to a drugged sleep and would not hear.
The dark lord cleared his throat, taking a small step toward the side of the Luke's bed. "Though the time may be too late to admit this," he murmured, his regret a lead weight in his stomach, "I want you to know that I am sorry." He reached out a black-clad arm, hearing the sound of his mechanical breather, and knowing that he must look the monster. Vader touched the Jedi's feverish temple, projecting what comfort and assurance he could into his apology.
"My son....I'm sorry." Only coldness and emptiness responded. Luke's mind was silent, the room ghostly quiet.
Slowly, Vader straightened, turned, and left the room the way he had come.
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