Hollow Drama
Summary: The holodrama Luke watches to pass the time sparks some anxiety, which Emperor Vader does his best to soothe.
Notes:
So this is an Emperor Vader verse developed by me and a former writing partner. I may or may not write more in this verse if I get inspired.
The basic rundown, though, is that while Vader was recovering from Mustafar and adjusting to his suit, Palpatine tracked down and killed Obi-wan and planned to take Luke and raise him as his own secret apprentice so he could have two Skywalkers under his control. Unfortunately, dear old Palps underestimated the connection between father and son, baby Luke alerting his father to his existence by crying and unconsciously reaching into the Force for a parent. Vader murders Sheev, takes over as Emperor, lets the Senate handle politics for the most part, and keeps Luke a well-kept secret, so his son cannot be stolen from him again. There's more nuance to all of it than that but I don't think you really need to know much more that the basics to get this story so! Enjoy, and let me know what you think!
The Imperial flagship, The Executor, was a grand and sprawling marvel of engineering that far surpassed anything that had ever come before it and would remain unparalleled in the galaxy for years to come. Designed to combine speed with raw power, the warship was capable of outpacing and outgunning nearly any ship it encountered, and it did so decisively. To serve aboard this vessel was considered the greatest honour and privilege one could achieve within the navy, because it often was commanded by the emperor himself, a feared yet respected man who far preferred to dabble in the military side of things than the political. He demanded competence and punished failure harshly, but he did not ask his men to do anything he would not do himself. Thousands of the Empire's absolute finest served aboard the vessel, its nineteen kilometres of titanium-reinforced durasteel forming a metallic, hyperdrive-equipped city among the stars.
A never-ending bustle of activity and excitement buzzed through the ship, ensuring there was never a second of complete calm throughout the entirety of the vessel. There was no opportunity for a dull moment because that meant someone wasn't doing their job, and the moment would not be dull for very much longer.
And yet, despite all this, Luke was bored.
Today's mission was deemed too dangerous for Luke to participate in, so he was stuck on The Executor. He felt like he'd explored every inch of this vessel already, like he'd discovered every secret, and while that probably wasn't true, it certainly felt like he'd exhausted all of his options when he knew he couldn't even interact with the thousands of crew members who also occupied the flagship. He could risk it with those who weren't quite as strong-minded, and force them to forget they'd ever spoken, but his father frowned upon that, preferring not to take the risk in the first place. Sequestering himself in his rooms with no droid projects to work on, meditation laying beyond his reach and only the poor company of his nearby Noghri guards, the teenager fought an increasing loneliness and sense of unending tedium that threatened to overtake him and as each dull hour bled into the next. Not even his training seemed enough to keep his mind occupied.
So, in a fit of desperation, he'd turned to the petty and shallow entertainment of holodramas.
In his youth, he'd been enamoured with the more adventurous stories, the ones that romanticized heroes that fought against great evils, imagining himself fighting alongside his father and playing the role of saviour that he so longed to, someday. These fantasies had been quelled fairly early on, however, his father informing him in no uncertain terms that such flights of fancy were unbecoming of one in his station, and this imaginary world simply stood in the way of their Empire's true goals. Still, through his younger years, Luke would indulge himself in those brief moments of imagination and get lost in the thoughts of the two of them sweeping through the galaxy as the heroes they claimed they were.
After their last few missions against the burgeoning Rebel groups, however, Luke found the adventure stories harder to stomach. Having served (albeit, anonymously) alongside his father on these missions, he'd found their own actions more in line with the villains, and those of the rebels more akin to the heroes, and that was a prospect that was growing difficult to stomach.
(Never mind that his father's personal fleet was known as The Death Squadron, which already screamed 'executioner' to the galaxy at large. Despite how his father insisted it was the only way, Luke was loath to rule by fear, and would always long for a better way.)
Those thoughts were kept strictly to himself, however. Keeping things from his father was difficult, but Luke had discovered certain tricks to avoid revealing things he was better off not mentioning. He was not considering treason or anything to that extent, would never defy his father, but he knew how poorly a man like Darth Vader would take it if he found out his own son had any sorts of doubts about the galaxy he had shaped and worked tirelessly to keep safe for the sake of said son. Besides, he trusted his father. He was still a teenager, one who knew very little about the larger galaxy beyond what he'd learned in his history and political classes, and he had always been told that their actions were for the greater good. Real life was not a holo adventure, and the heroes and villains were not always as clear cut as they were in fantasy.
With adventure officially off the table, he turned to the most mindless of distractions: Romantic, Comedic Holodramas.
Many of the programs he'd scrolled through seemed petty and a waste of his time, but after several minutes of flicking through channels, he'd landed on one that seemed… satisfactory. It involved royalty. It involved heirs and desires that defied the laws of tradition. It involved arranged courtship and forbidden love and heartbreak and intrigue and several of the things that had won him over in the adventure holos. But this one…
This one struck him because of the status of the main characters. One was Royalty. High Royalty. One of the highest beings in their universe, expected to wed well, to make political connections that would benefit The System, and not herself. To love who she was told to, and not to follow what her heart said. To marry a wealthy, powerful man and have lots of royal babies to further their lineage. The other was a woman of a noble standing, but her station was deemed far too low for someone as important as the woman she longed to be with. The story maintained a lighthearted tone, their hidden romance leading to several humourous circumstances, but there was an undercurrent of tragedy to the situation, the threat of very real consequences looming, should they ever be found out.
And that scared Luke.
Technically, he was a prince. As his father's only son, he would take on the burden of the Empire, someday, and that meant that he was responsible for continuing their legacy. For keeping the peace that only they had the capacity to maintain. For proliferating generations of prosperity and happiness. But…
His father had never mentioned the desire for a dynasty. He cared that Luke was his flesh and blood, cared that he was family, but had never spoken of what was in store… beyond that. He'd always seemed far more concerned for the immediate, for the tangible, for the things he could close his fingers around and claim for his own. But there were also some things he deemed as implicit, things he shouldn't have to say outright and were just known to be the way of things without him saying so directly. Since he was considered a prince – The Imperial Prince – then there was a possibility that this was a tradition they would not break, unspoken or otherwise.
After several episodes of repetitive and cliched stories that began to run together, Luke found boredom was setting in once again, this time mingled with an undercurrent of anxiety that spoiled any entertainment he'd been getting from the program. Shutting it off, he sighed and positioned himself on one of the mats in his training space and settled in for an attempt at meditation. Most likely, this attempt would be unsuccessful, but there was little else to do, and it would probably be several more hours until his father returned.
The Force was unsteady as it wrapped him in its shaky embrace, but he could still feel its warmth and light dancing across his skin. It was that feeling that he latched on to, inviting it in, opening himself up to it, and it was that warmth and light that allowed his nerves to calm and meditation to settle over him. There was strength and power to be found on the cold, dark side of the Force that his father operated on, but little comfort, and Luke was grateful for the soothing nature of the side that came so naturally to him.
Soon, his breathing slowed, grew steady, and while no answers came forth readily, he still felt his boredom abate, his anxiety dissipate, and a sense of calm take their place with each cleansing inhale and calming exhale. He might have sat there for seconds or minutes, hours or days, but that didn't matter, so long as he felt centred. Whatever the future held mattered little next to his connection to the here and now, to the universe that surrounded him, to the plane of existence he occupied and was inherently connected to.
That same serene state of being persisted until a chill permeated the recycled air of his quarters, signalling the return of his father, and Luke pulled himself back into the present as a quiet thrill rippled through him. The heavy presence radiated by the masked, towering emperor was stifling to some, but Luke clung to it and wrapped it around himself like a blanket. It put him at ease in a way so different from the bright warmth of the Force, but it was familiar and safe and comfortable, and the prospect of any previous anxieties seemed unthinkable with it looming overhead.
Fluttering eyelids revealed his bright blue eyes, which instantly locked with his father's red-tinged eyeplates, and no longer than a handful of seconds passed before Luke scrambled to his feet and bowed his chin. "Father," he greeted reverently. "I trust your mission was a success?"
The only direct answer he received was a minute tilt of the helmet down and then back up. The silence that hung between them and the hesitation before speaking spoke volumes – far more than any words that might have passed between the two. When interpreting Darth Vader, careful attention had to be paid to what wasn't said just as much as what was. "You are troubled, my son."
Ah. So he was reading Luke's anxieties. It was not a question so much as it was a statement of fact. There was very little the one could hide from the Galaxy's Most Powerful Man, particularly when one was said Most Powerful Man's offspring. Luke, at fifteen years old, thought himself simultaneously too old to bow beneath his father's every demand and too young to handle every emotion on his own, but he found himself shrinking at the oppressive scrutiny he suddenly found himself under as that black mask remained immovable, inscrutable and expectant. Shifting slightly, as imperceptibly as he could possibly manage, the boy allowed another few seconds of silence to tick by until he finally answered. "I… yeah. I guess you could say that I am."
"Your distress was broadcast very loudly through your meditations," Vader rumbled, folding his arms across his armoured chest as he fell into silence once more. Getting the distinct impression of a raised, scarred brow behind that implacable mask, Luke knew he was entering a battle of wills he was destined to lose. Staring up at his father, he stood resolute as the suffocating silence passed between the two of them, pressing down on him until, at last, he crumpled beneath the weight of his father's gaze.
Luke's shoulders hunched slightly as a heavy sigh resonated in his chest. This was embarrassing enough to admit to himself, let alone the Supreme Leader of the Galaxy, and the words spilled out stuttering and choked as he forced them out. "I – I was just. Watching some holodramas. Since I had nothing better to do. Petty things. Stories that I wouldn't indulge in otherwise, but it got me thinking. About the future, I mean. The things that are a ways of. When I get older – although these characters were only a couple years older than me – but I just…" He was rambling, he knew, stalling the point and avoiding the feelings he truly wanted to express, but he swallowed thickly and re-oriented himself as he sensed his father's growing annoyance at his scattered words. "Are you going to arrange a marriage for me?"
It was instantaneous, the plunge in the room's temperature, Vader's rage permeating their quarters, their wing, their entire ship. Luke instinctually moved to shrink back from it, but he stopped himself when he realized the anger was not directed towards him. Instead, his father's thoughts had drifted to the past, to a time when he'd harboured fears not identical but similar enough to spark worry for the state of his ongoing happiness. The weight of these emotions was enough to catch Luke's breath in his throat, to instill a fear of suffocation at just how raw everything was as it rippled through him, but it was quickly replaced by a resignation that seemed so alien to the pillar of strength the emperor typically was. "Luke… my son. I would not presume to preside over the matters of your heart."
Taken aback, Luke felt his eyes widen, his mouth open and close several times, his mind search for an adequate response. He had not been expecting such a level of understanding, such a dissonant softness in the rumbling bass of Vader's voice. It was always abundantly clear that his father cared for him, but there was a line of empathy that the Dark Lord seemed hesitant to cross. That statement, however? Felt like his father knew entirely how he felt, in some sense at the very least. It was a rare thing, feeling quite so dumb, with his mouth agape and his eyes wide as saucers. But he could not articulate his thoughts or formulate any words to express his disbelief, so instead he simply stared at his father. Even more rare, however, was the dissipation of rage and the hint of amusement at Luke's lack of response, which elicited nothing more than a huff and a mild pout at that reaction.
While words failed the youth, however, they did not seem to fail his father, who spoke with a twisted bitterness that stood in stark contrast to the gentle words from just moments before. "If that is what I wished, you could count me as a hypocrite. My love for your mother was considered blasphemous," he declared, easily ignoring Luke's gasp at the mention of his mother, "and should I declare which beings are worthy of your heart, I would be no better than those who betrayed me all those years ago."
A moment passed where Luke maintained that clueless expression on his face before it settled into a light smile. "Thank you, Father." Warmth flooded through him, filling his chest and resonating in every cell in his body. Word of his father's past – particularly regarding his mother – was a rarity that remained unmatched in the galaxy. He clung to those words harder than the stuffed bantha he'd received as a four-year-old youngling who shivered in his quarters and longed for the comfort of something – anything – to cling to on those long, lonely, arduous nights.
It was a simple exchange, seemingly inconsequential to any other family who might follow the same motions, but the meaning for both father and son resonated within the Force and served only to strengthen their bond.
Focusing in on the source of Luke's distress, the crackling approximation of a sigh hissed from the vocoder that served as the emperor's voice as he read the thoughts of his uncertain son. "I cannot forbid you from accessing holodramas – beyond punishment, of course – lest I seem needlessly cruel," Vader began, an exhaustion and wistfulness lacing his tone, sounding entirely obvious while also seeming like false pacification. "But you must understand, child, that such… frivolities hold very little store in the real world, and you should not deem them an accurate representation of our galaxy."
The brightening of Luke's being was undetected to him but bathed his father in the same warmth and light the boy had accessed earlier. It was elusive, working magic in its own, subtle way, but it washed over the bond the two of them shared, and Luke did not need to utter a single syllable to set his father speaking once more. "Your future is your own, young one. I trust you to produce or select an heir as you deem fit. By the time such a thing becomes necessary, my input will be obsolete, so my trust in you remains unwavering, and I shall not question the choice you make."
It was not long before a pure, unrestrained grin consumed the blond's features, one familiar solely with the sterility of The Empire would never consider possible in the presence of Lord Vader, but it lit up the entire room, and the warmth quickly overcame the dark coldness. "I understand. I – appreciate that, Father."
The nod he received was curt and impersonal, to the casual observer, but it meant the world to Luke. Acknowledgement, in moments like this, and the smoothing of his fears, was more than enough to ease some of his concerns and broaden the grin that split his features. Life was no holodrama, he knew, and no romantic comedy, adventure, horror, or anything else could compare to the life he lived as it was. His father was the last, best authority in the galaxy, and whatever doubts he might have felt were crushed immediately in the elder man's convictions. The galaxy was meant to be this way, and holodramas were, and would always be, fantasy and hollow drama.