Luke was tightly bound to his chair, an ysalamiri in a nutrient cage staring darkly across at him.
His lightsaber and other weapons had been confiscated, although Leia had persuaded them to give the lightsaber to her, and she kept it hidden away, hoping desperately that Luke might someday be allowed to go free.
He was on a small ship, surrounded by several armed guards whose fingers were ready to apply pressure to the triggers that would end it all if he did so much as sneeze in a way that they thought was threatening.
But although the feeling of not being able to touch the Force felt strange and wrong, since he had depended on the Force without ysalamiri hampering him for quite some time, he knew that he deserved every bit of uncomfortableness, every smidgen of pain, any kind of punishment sent his way.
His eyes were closed lightly, and his brow furrowed sharply, as he mulled over why he had done what he had.
Although it seemed as out of character to himself as it did to others, he knew why.
Luke had argued, and heard others argue for him, that the actions of the father weren't to be blamed on the son and didn't truly foreshadow what the son did.
But now he knew that argument wasn't true.
And yet, it wasn't quite as clear cut as that. It was true that the father's being "bad" did not make the son bad...,And it wasn't true that the son was highly displeased by the father's actions and did bad things because of it, unaware that he was doing so.
Yes, it certainly wasn't hereditary to be evil...
And yet, it was tied to the whole father-son relationship, or lack of.
Luke gave a mental sigh. Well, whatever it was, he was as sure as the night was dark that he was following in his father's footsteps, although he hadn't realized it was exactly that until recently.
But his descent into darkness hadn't begun just recently. No, perhaps a few months earlier, perhaps even a year earlier, he had woken up one day in what seemed like a bad mood. But it wasn't the 'wrong side of the bed' kind of mood, which he had thought was strange at the time.
He had tried teaching his students that day on Yavin VI, despite his sour mood and his questionably Dark Side-influenced, new techniques. But finally, a group of students had mustered up enough courage to come up to him and ask him what was wrong.
Scowling, he had replied that everything was wrong. The Republic diplomats was fighting over trivial issues, his brother-in-law was being an overall pain, his sister was actually enjoying participating in the pointless heated discussions over the galaxy's condition—which, by the way, happened to be downright awful. Planet Security wasn't what it used to be, the Empire was slowly coming back to life, his students weren't even attempting to train anymore, thinking of him as a mere joke of a teacher, and he had gone on and on until he had finally been interrupted by one brave, but rash, student.
"I don't see you trying to do anything about it," the apprentice had pointed out, which wasn't a smart thing to do, considering the circumstances.
And so he'd exploded with all of the pent-up emotions that he'd had for space knew how long. He'd called the student names, insulted the student's immediate family and ancestors, put-down nearly everyone at the Academy repeatedly, and threatened to stick his lightsaber down the boy's throat.
Biting his lip to keep from crying, the kid had run off as fast as his legs and the Force would take him, and later Luke was threatened with a harassment suit, which he grudgingly knew he more than deserved. But the charges had somehow been dismissed, and a few days later he had decided that it was Leia who had soothed and persuaded the family to drop them.
Through thick and thin, she had always remained on his side, even when he was at his most enraged and depressed point...
For depression had played a key role in the changing of his personality.
Callista's face had hung over his head like a dark shadow, refusing to leave. He had mourned her absence until he was almost past the breaking point, and then he had hated her for it. Wanted to kill her for it, wanted to take his lightsaber and slice her slowly from limb to limb, listening to her screams of pain.
And, of course, there was Mara.
The beautiful, fiery young trader who always shot off her mouth and brought out the worst in him. Luke Skywalker, the Jedi Master that many had once thought had no weaknesses, would shoot back his own sarcastic replies, keeping the ex-Emperor's Hand away when he wanted nothing more than to be friends with her.
No.
That wasn't entirely true, and he knew it.
Luke wanted to be more than friends, to finally have a personal relationship with someone...To date someone he deeply admired, and someone whose company he enjoyed despite her cynicism.
But he was unable to control his mouth, and so she stayed away, for two hot-headed single humans together created a lot of hurtful sparks. And so, the depression threatened to suffocate him in a thick blanket of darkness that grew even thicker every day.
He'd tried to bury himself in his teaching, but his varied emotions had finally piled up until he had burst like a volcano on more than one occasion.
And on the last occasion, strange as it was, he had started to think about his father, and how, if Anakin Skywalker hadn't decided to turn to the Dark Side and leave his family behind, Luke's mother might still be alive, and he and his twin sister might have had a real childhood together. Owen and Beru Lars would have never been murdered, and the Empire would probably be little more than a dream that a few rebellious types had. Yoda and Ben might also still be alive...
But, because of his arrogant, unwise father, he had been deprived of what could have been an enjoyable childhood on a luscious planet, rather than on the harsh desert planet of Tatooine that he wanted little more than to never see again.
And so, anger had bubbled up and spread throughout his soul, like blood staining water deep scarlet. Once he had realized what had happened, he had tried cleansing himself with the Light, but his attempt changed very little.
A wise Jedi had once said, "If once you start down the dark path, forever will it dominate your destiny..."
And indeed it did...And had.
For he wasn't the same man that he had been before Callista, the woman who had done little more than take over one of his friends' bodies and cause him a lot of heartache.
For a moment, before his trial, he had tried to convince himself to mentally try to find the path of light once again. He had closed his eyes in concentration and lost himself in the Force.
He had reached for the Light, but it had proved elusive.
Figuratively, the trail back to Good was twisted, dark, and difficult to travel...He had little choice but to trudge on through the darkness and live with his pathetic, tortured soul.
For he had killed a good man who would have probably had a long and happy life ahead of him. And so Luke would do his best to make sure his own life was long and painful to avenge the life of Darius Novell...And if the Dark Side helped him achieve that, then so be it.
He opened his eyes slowly. Gone was the once-crystal blue color of strained innocence, replaced by darkness currently unmatched by no other living soul, as the naive farmboy Luke Skywalker was replaced with something more sinister.