Day 19: Embrace

Summary: Luke has been raised by the Sith. After spending years with Darth Sidious, he is turned over to his father Darth Vader to prove himself. (This ficlet has been previously published on my tumblr.)

Vader stood at the edge of the grated platform. Fifty feet below and under a ray shield, lava boiled and roared along a river edged in newly formed black rock. The platform vibrated, a sensation Vader barely registered himself through his prosthetic legs, as a figure landed hard against the metal with a pained grunt. The young teen snarled as he got his legs back under him and his red lightsaber up before his attacker jumped down on him. The large creature was double the boy's size and dressed in crude armor, tattered clothes, and a metal helmet. It fought with a lightsaber so haphazardly made the blade come out uneven.

Despite the physical difference, the boy met the heavy blow head-on. He used the brute's momentum to push him off to the side so he could jump back up to his feet. His saber swirled in his hand as adjusted his footing and grip. The brute did not waste time doing the same as he let out a low frustrated growl and charged forward. He swung another blow then another and another. The boy met each one but was struggling. His swings were slowing. Sweat matted his hair and dripped down his face. His breath was labored.

Vader gritted his teeth and looped his thumbs through his belt loops as he watched his thirteen-year-old son continue his test. His body was tense. His right hand ached to grab his saber hanging on his belt and slash the mindless brute in half. But no; he would not. It was a test of Luke's training.

Luke let out a yelp of pain as the brute landed a hard kick on the small chest. The boy went flying to the edge of the platform. Vader flinched. A flicker of his internal conflict to stop this. Luke was losing, and he should end it. But the boy would be angry if he did, so Vader stayed still and watched.

Luke still had a chance to win. He had become distracted by the fight and had loosened his hold on the Force. If he deepened and strengthened his connection, this pathetic lifeform of a Dark Side cult would be dead by now. Vader knew his son's power, his potential, and it was disappointing to see Luke do so poorly now.

The cultist slashed down at the prone boy, but Luke rolled and the lightsaber barely missed him. Luke snapped his hand up and threw a clumsy Force push. The brute staggered, which gave him time to get to his feet, but then pushed on without a second thought. Blows were exchanged again. The lightsabers hummed and hissed, and sparks flew when one dug into the metal of the platform.

Luke had lost his offensive edge; he was now completely on the defensive as the brute pushed forward. Vader's hand was now on his saber hilt, which was still latched to his belt. The leather of his glove creaked as his grip tightened. He wouldn't interfere unless he had to. Unless there was no other choice. He had to give Luke a chance to prove himself.

But the boy tripped. His blue eyes went wide as his head hit the metal too hard and he lost his grip on his saber which rolled away. The brute gave a victory shout as he leapt into the air with his saber pointed right at Luke's chest . . .

The saber didn't even scratch Luke's sweat-stained tunic.

It hovered a few inches above the boy, frozen. Frozen like the rest of the creature. Luke only blinked up at it; he was still stunned. It didn't matter. The test was over. Vader approached with his left hand out and used it to focus the Force around the brute and keep him still. His right hand had freed his saber and ignited it. He took pleasure cutting the creature into pieces.

"Fa- father."

Vader turned and looked down at his son.

Luke had managed to use his elbows to prop himself up just in time to watch his opponent's body hit the metal grates with a sickening thud.

He had failed.

"Fa- father." His voice wavered. He meant it to sound strong. Fierce. Instead, it was weak and wavered.

Darth Vader turned around and the lightsaber slid back into a hilt with a soft hiss as the black helmet tilted down to look at Luke.

Luke swallowed. There was a lump in his dry throat.

"I would have won," he finally managed to say. His words had come out better this time.

"No."

Luke flinched. His father's voice was always deep and cutting. Luke tried to swallow again and stuck his chin up a bit higher.

"I had-"

"You did not," Vader said as he pointed a finger at Luke. "That was a killing blow."

Luke gritted his teeth and his hands curled into tight fists. He looked away.

"Then I would have died," he said. "It would have been only the appropriate punishment for my failure. I do not know why you stopped it."

Vader moved; Luke could see it out of his peripheral vision. He tensed ready for a blow, for him to be seized by the Force, for anything . . . but nothing came. He cautiously but curiously turned to face Vader, who was down on one knee next to him.

"I stopped it because I was scared I would lose you," Vader said.

. . . what?

Luke stilled as he stared into the dark red lenses but knowing he was making eye contact with the man behind them.

"Master Sidious said-" Luke said.

Vader cut him off. "I was not about to watch my son die."

He held out his hand, the same one that had pointed accusingly at him moments before. Luke looked at it and wondered if this was part of the test. Should he summon his lightsaber to him and attack? Master had warned him that Vader wasn't to be trusted even though he was his father.

But . . .

Luke grabbed the hand. Vader's grip was strong and tight as he pulled Luke up along with him. He stumbled forward as his mind spun and vision blurred. Strong hands wrapped around him and he was lifted off his feet. As the spinning stopped, he realized his father was carrying him. He opened his mouth to speak, to demand Vader's intention, but the words died before they even formed. He rested his head against the hard shoulder armor and closed his eyes.