Boys Will Be Boys

Lesson of the day: It was not okay to get into fist fights with sons of important Imperial Admirals.

Vader was quite aware of the fact that his son suffered from a sever lack of social skills. He hadn't grown up with other children, and he had been taught every day of his life for seven years how to pick fights and how to win them.

The small blond child was sporting a bruise on his cheek, but his opponent, Marcus Baldera, had a bloodied nose.

It had been hoped for by the father's that their sons, who both needed a friend of some sort to keep them relatively emotionally healthy, would hit it off while the sire's discussed important Imperial business.

Well, they'd hit something off.

There hadn't really been anything that had caused the fight. Just over aggression and the age old instinct that two males did not share territory – at least not without a fight. Luke's first responses to Marcus had been very quiet and shy, marking him out as an easy target, a coward, and a pushover. Luke was none of these, as he'd made very plain to Baldera's son via a bloody nose. Marcus had had a little bit more social interaction than eight year old Luke, so his manner was one of extreme confidence and pride. When insults stirred, tempers rose, and push came to shove.

And shove came to punch.

And punch came to Luke being grounded for a very long time.

A little bacta had been smeared on the smarting injury, and Luke had to keep a cold pack to his face as he sniffled slightly. When his father got angry – and boy, was he angry – life for the child became a proverbial hell, and the boy was quite aware that he was going to be in for it.

Silence reigned as Luke sat very quietly next to his father, waiting for the Sith Lord's anger to cool slightly.

"I don't suppose it would help if I apologized?"

"To who?" his sire answered gruffly. "To Baldera's son, or to me?"

Luke was not apologizing to Marcus. The bully had gotten what was coming to him, and if there was one thing Luke couldn't stand, it was a bully. Luke had a certain amount of pride. "To you."

"That would be good, as what you did was disgraceful and embarrassing. You've tarnished the Skywalker name."

That phrase was said a lot. Luke wasn't quite sure he grasped what it meant, just that it was something bad and he wasn't supposed to do it. "I'm sorry," he whispered, sniffling again.

"And why are you sorry? Do you regret trying to claw the boy's face off?"

"No," he growled, a fist clenching. "I'd do it again."

His father paused, and Luke felt he'd just said something very note worthy. "When you fight because you're angry, you draw on the Dark Side," he quoted, and Luke began to feel a little better, a little more proud.

"I did good, then. You always say it's good when I use the Dark Side."

"But not to admiral's sons."

Luke was scowling viciously, and a very dark and covert power seemed to radiate off of him. "I'd do it again. I liked doing it," he growled, his hand wrapping fiercely on the cold pack.

Vader actually was pretty proud of his boy. He could handle life's knocks, which he'd had to do as a boy as well. He didn't like to think of that. It also showed the Luke had absolutely no qualms about fighting or using the Dark Side. Nor should he, with seven years of training. He showed an immense gift, and would someday make a very powerful Lord of the Sith.

But not quite yet.

And he was still grounded.

"Just try and cool your jets a little, alright?" Vader asked, ruffling the soft blond hair with affection. Luke stopped scowling and grinned with a loving admiration up at his father.