Approximately twenty years after Palpatine's death
Admiral Piett had been, as always, impressively efficient.
"Your Majesty, this is the pilot you requested."
A small smile hanging on his lips, the good Admiral gestured the young hero to come forth. A blonde-haired boy with starry blue eyes nervously stalked closer, his heart racing anxiously.
In a desperate bid to reclaim lost space, slaves and wealth, the Hutt Cartel had gathered its remaining fleet and blockaded Eufornis Major to seize the prestigious Core world for themselves.
When the warships proved to be too much for the surprisingly undefended ecumenopolis, planetary forces called for aid. The Imperial Navy immediately responded, seeking to bring a swift and decisive victory that would ultimately destroy the last of the Hutt fleet.
When most of the Hutt fleet was decimated with minimal Imperial and Eufornian casualties, the flagship began lowering towards the atmosphere and firing all its power on the towering skyscrapers below, knowing already that they would lose the battle and hoping to leave a mark on the galaxy while they still could. The other functional ships separated their duties, the majority continuing in viciously attacking Imperial forces, and the remainder guarding and aiding the flagship in its barrage.
Knowing Eufornis as a planet too valuable to not completely secure, the Imperials deployed its best naval squadrons to combat the enemy and bring down the flagship. One of those deployed Imperial pilots was the courageous youth who now stood in front of the Emperor. Speeding through the hazardous wreckage of downed ships and shooting down all his opposition with extraordinary skill, Luke was the one that blew the fatal blow to the flagship.
He was the only one out of his valiant attack squad-they were the lead assault squad, and the squad that the assailing foes unintelligently focused nearly all their power on-who had made it close enough to the flagship without being drowned by a violent storm of lasers, and what was even more impossible was that he left the battle without a single scratch. Heck, he even saved a fellow from another squadron.
Oh, and this had been his first-ever battle in space.
(Biggs knew his pal Luke was skilled, but not this skilled- circling an entire flagship with dozens of fighters chasing his tail, then singlehandedly bringing a whole capital ship down…!?)
After their leader's destruction, the surviving ships were easily tidied up. The Hutts' spirits were crushed, and now the Cartel's activities had quieted down to mere small-scale skirmishes on the few planets where slavery still endured.
(The slaves were rebelling- all of them, from the bravest soul, to the most cowardly who used to accept submission without any intention of a revolt. Senator Leia Organa's riveting, galvanizing speech that was broadcasted throughout the galaxy had brought out the tremendous courage required to fight for freedom.)
The victimized sector of Eufornis Major would have to be repaired, yes- but that could be quickly solved, given the Empire's resources and manpower.
And as for Luke- all the young man wanted was a decent sum of credits that he could send to his aunt and uncle, whom were still on Tatooine. Beru Lars had, through years of hard work and secrecy, gathered enough credits to send his beloved nephew off the desolate desert planet so he could pursuit his aspiration of entering the Imperial military. Now it was time to repay her.
Perhaps he should thank the stranded stormtrooper, too. The man had stayed at the homestead for a few days while a rather hideously infected wound of his healed. When Luke excitedly showed off his piloting skills through a series of maneuvers, ending with a threading of his T-16 Skyhopper through the Stone Needle, the stormtrooper exclaimed with awe that he'd never seen such unmatched talent, and strongly suggested that Luke join the Imperial Navy. (Which also happened to be the one that Luke had dreamt to be enlisted in.)
Of course, he'd gained some fame on the Holonews- "the Savior of Eufornis", they'd called him-, though being the backwater farmboy that he was, he could care less.
For now, in the vast Emperor's Chamber, he gave all his attention to his Majesty. This could be the highest honor of his life- ever since the liberation of Tatooine and the start of its moderate prosperity, he had admired this man of justice.
(Old Ben Kenobi seemed to be wary of Emperor Vader, though he refused to explain why. He'd also begged for Luke to not leave Tatooine, for reasons related to the Emperor... but any person who gave the slaves freedom and tremendously boosted the economy, without expecting anything in return, had to be a good person, right? Perhaps the hermit was crazy from his exile after all, just like how his uncle had told him.)
"You graduated at the top of your class in the Naval Academy?"
Cheeks turning a faint red, the young man set his gaze to the ground, trying to control his quickening breaths. "Yes, your Majesty."
Vader recalled the thrill of flying in open space. He, too, had been an outstanding pilot once, before his body was crippled and his duties overwhelmed… no, he would not think of such things. Not now. He may reminisce later.
"Impressive. Most impressive. Your class was an outstanding one; you will continue serving the Empire well." Behind the mask, Vader allowed himself a smile of content; talent such as this was a wonderful asset in furthering the well-being of the galaxy.
The rosy cheeks turned to a deeper shade of red; small, fidgeting hands began tugging at the brim of the jet-black flight jacket. "Thank you, your Majesty." The Force radiated with his unconstrained exhilaration.
The Emperor gazed down from the throne, terribly intrigued with the young man in front of him. This child was a beacon of vivid Light- the Force seemed to glow as a halo around him with an intensity that he had not countered in years.
(Back when he was still untainted by war and manipulation, perhaps he'd had that Light, too.)
And those clear blue eyes, that blonde hair...
So similar to the infant in his dreams. The one whose death he had played a part in...
This was impossible. Surely his child was... gone.
"How many years of age are you?" Vader inquired abruptly. Why- why did you ask-
"Twenty years of age, your Majesty...?" The young man's soft eyebrows lifted in confusion. Yeah, some people had said he looked a few years younger than his actual age, but it hadn't interfered with his enlistment with the Empire...? What was wrong?
"Two days after the first Empire Day," he added, just in case.
Vader was silent, the pounding of his old heart accelerating with disbelief. If his breathing weren't regulated, he may as well be hyperventilating. Twenty years ago... His child should have been born twenty years ago, somewhere near the official start of the Empire. Dare he- dare he think a miracle was possible-
"You- you will be properly compensated. For now, you are dismissed."
The young pilot bowed his head in respect. "Thank you, your Majesty."
After the young pilot walked out with a delighted, immature grin, Vader immediately turned to Piett. "What is the name of this pilot?"
"Luke Skywalker, your Majesty."
For a moment, the ventilator was overpassed, and Vader stopped breathing.
Soon after his audience with the Emperor, Luke was led to the Emperor's castle by Admiral Piettwithout a given reason. At first, he feared that he had committed some unforgivable atrocity, in which the Admiral had assured him that there was no trouble, he only needed a sample of Luke's blood.
Though confused nonetheless, Luke complied, and soon a medical droid had swabbed a thin tube full of red liquid from his arm.
The Admiral told Luke to wait for a while, and so he did, gawking curiously at the spacious waiting area that he was currently situated in. The room was sparsely decorated, with no paintings or ornaments or flowers whatsoever. The castle seemed to be more of a workplace than a home- but based on accounts about the Emperor that he had read with fascination, the man lived alone and wasn't one for company.
Left on his own terms, Luke began wandering the castle, eager to see his idol's residence for himself. He stalked out of the waiting area, past the spartan dining region, and climbed up the large staircase with ease, to find himself at the second level of the castle.
This floor was equally indifferent to luxury. Down the hall, he walked past a few guest quarters that seemed equally sparse and unused, for there was a thin layer of dust gathered on every piece of existent furniture.
A flash of pity stung his chest. For a reason he could not comprehend, it distressed him that this man lived unaccompanied- perhaps his boyish obsession with the Hero of Tatooine was becoming too much.
Finding nothing else noteworthy, the boy made his way to the third floor. Immediately he noticed a locked door, two rooms down the hall-
Oh, huh, a locked door!... That's where I'll go.
With a wave of the hand alongside immense concentration, the door slowly slid open. (He'd always had a knack for these things, even when he was little- no one could explain it, however, and his uncle had forced him to promise to never use his "ability" in public. Knowing how severe punishments could be, he accepted his uncle's demand- but that doesn't mean he did not practice when he was alone. After all, breaking into places without even using tools could be useful someday... and today was that day.)
Straightaway, the sight was astonishing.
In the middle of the room was a tiny wooden, hand-made crib, adorned with an adorable blue blanket and petite, plushy playthings. Toy starfighters—N-1's, Y- and V-wings, as well as a few vulture droids and other starcraft from the Clone Wars—hovered over the crib, accompanied by a collection of miniature glowing orbs that seemed to be planets. (Coruscant, he could recognize... there was Alderaan, too, and Corellia and Ryloth and the obsidian world of Sullust. The murky green one was probably Felucia, but then there was a white, barren planet that he could not identify, and then a beautiful green-blue planet with swirling white clouds that he guessed as Naboo... and of course, he would recognize his home planet, Tatooine.)
Below the crib was a giant, fluffy rug- not expensive, no, but he could swear it appeared as soft as wool. The whole floor was carpeted in what seemed to be the same material. Surrounding the crib were more toys, and a short couch to sit on. A few closets could be seen, and there was a diminutive desk with a nightlight hanging down.
A hoverstroller stood against a wall, near large glass windows that showed the pink-orange afternoon sky and let the Coruscant sunlight in. A few hand-carved animals of japor ivory wood sat on a windowsill, as if looking out at the view of Coruscant from their position so high up.
Portraits hung on the wall- they were all the same person: a gorgeous lady with curly, long chestnut hair and intelligent, compassionate brown eyes and playful lips. He did not know the name…
(But he recognized her. Somehow.)
(Oh, yeah… one of his former squadmates had painted the same face on her x-wing, near the Imperial crest; with admiration agleam in the amber eyes, she'd called the woman the Founder of the ideals of their glorious Empire. But why were there so many portraitures in a nursery?)
He stood there, marveling at the remarkable sight. Oh, how this room contrasted all the others- he could not find a single speck of dust, and glancing around, the place almost seemed cozy,
If it weren't for that there wasn't a single trace of the baby that this nursery was intended for.
The blankets, the crib, the toys, the closet- they seemed virtually untouched. A subtle pain veiled the room, as if the person who decorated all this was grieving a tragic loss, rather than feeling the joy of a newborn youngling.
Then, he noticed it: a small bouquet of fresh white lilies placed horizontally inside the crib, their pedals barely visible under the sky-blue blanket.
The person who lost his child had been a father.
The person was the Emperor.
He knew it- he could feel the truth. He could nearly see the lamenting man kneeling defeatedly before the crib, his head bent down and his broad shoulders trembling as tears of anguish escaped his eyes.
Sighing in sympathy, he ignored the fact of his intrusion and slowly strode to the crib, and gingerly traced one of its sides with a finger...
Then felt a heavy hand on his shoulder.
Jerkily Luke jumped up and turned around, only to find the masked Emperor gazing down with what was definitely a scowl of tremendous disapproval-
"Sorry! I was just- just really curious-"
"I apologize for disturbing you."
Luke could hear the sincerity of those words, and what was even more staggering was the slight bow that came afterward. Huh? I'm was the intruder here... but I won't complain if the Emperor's letting me off easy.
Gradually, almost reluctantly (reluctantly? This day was getting stranger and stranger), the gloved hand slid from his shoulder, then took his petite hands and gave a gentle squeeze.
Luke inhaled in anticipation, pleading that the Emperor wasn't doing this as a means of comfort before he was executed for invading what was probably the most private part of the man's life-
"This would have been your room, Child."
Luke blinked rapidly and scrunched his eyebrows, unable to comprehend the Emperor's words.
One of those great hands hesitantly detached from his and moved to lightly tousle his hair. Dazed and in utter bewilderment, Luke did not stop him.
"Tell me what you know about your father, Little One."
Luke's head spun. What!? Why would he ask that?
"Your Majesty, one of my former, uh-" he muttered shakily, giving a little scratch behind the ear, "-acquaintances told me that my father was a navigator on a spice freighter."
"Anything else?"
Luke paused, debating whether to tell the Emperor of his father's unfortunate fate. At first, he decided against it, but the expectant silence that Vader let stretch between them was enough for him to cave in.
"And, well, he's... gone. Deceased."
(As much as Luke wished it weren't true, that was the sole explanation for why they could only meet within the confines of his dreams.)
He swore he heard an amused yet choked chuckle come from behind the mask. For the second time, the black-clad hands shifted to linger upon his shoulders.
The next words were full of emotion.
"No. I am your father."
Luke swore he was daydreaming, that his real father, the one he had longed to meet in real life ever since he was a young child, was dead- this wasn't possible-
But the crushing, nearly possessive hug and overwhelming surge of love that followed Vader's improbable statement was proof enough.
Extra scene for an extra chapter. Probably takes place 1~2 weeks after all that mumbo jumbo above.
His father- his father! - had invited Luke to come inside the strange, egg-like meditation pod, in which Luke had gladly complied. However, his had felt his heart twinge in sympathy when he learned the pod was, in actuality, a hyperbaric chamber- was his father unable to breathe normal air?
(How foolish was he, thinking the mask was just for show.)
Over the past dozens of days, the two had harbored a significant affection for each other, and both enjoyed their new and welcomed company. Now he sat on a bench across from his father with a breathing mask on his face, so he would not feel nauseated by the elevation of air pressure. In the quietness of the air circulation, he pondered what other injuries his father hid behind the black suit that he constantly wore. The man always closed the doors to his bedroom at night and was reluctant to discuss this matter with his son.
Seated on a small, round and padded stool, his father- touch-starved father- had a hand laying on his, taking comfort in the fact that his son was close by.
Something soft grazed against the back of Luke's mind.
"I sense your interest in seeing my appearance," his father suddenly spoke.
Luke raised an eyebrow; his father had been peering into his mind again, though usually it was not an annoyance. The ability still captivated him, however.
"I warn you that my face may be rather disturbing. Do you wish to proceed?" A gloved thumb was brushing over his skin.
"I want to see you, father." It did not matter to Luke how hideous his father may believe himself to look- facades did not represent what a man was on the inside; too often were outer shells deceiving.
He would not judge.
After a moment's silent contemplation, Vader gave a squeeze of the hand and murmured, "Luke… Help me take this mask off, then." His father beckoned the fond Luke forward to aid him with the process, and together they detached the disguise from the face.
Taking the impassive facade with him as he leaned back into the bench, Luke could not believe his eyes. This... thing in front of him, battered and beaten to something barely human, was not what he'd imagined. He'd thought of perhaps a scar or two, maybe baldness, but...
This.
Mottled, ashen, crumpled skin. Dark, sunken rings around tired blue eyes that echoed decades of loneliness and melancholy and grief. What should have been ears were mere stubs of flesh protruding from the skull- molten stubs, he noted with concern. Angry scars mercilessly marred the sun-deprived face; a large, pink gash ran along the scalp, exposing the thin layer of flesh underneath.
Whatever his father had endured was unfathomable to Luke.
Vader gave a small, sad smile, expecting his son to panic and maybe shriek, to try to run away from this unsightly beast in front of him.
But Luke remained, seemed to murmur a few comforting words that he could not quite hear, even took his hand. He felt a supernova of sympathy radiate from his son's luminous blue star...
He was so undeserving of this compassionate, loving child. So, so undeserving.
And now, as he fulfilled Luke's wish, there was a part of him, deep down inside, that wished to view the youngster's face with his own eyes, and not the lenses of his mask. Repeatedly he told himself that he would not, could not taint the child's beauty with his gaze- a catastrophic gaze that would surely bring defilement, spoil the cherub's ethereal features...
But for once, he let his selfishness win. Just this once, just this once-
A hoarse, barely audible croak:
"Come closer, so I might see you."
With his free arm, Vader sent out the vague gesture of wishing his son sit by his side. Still clutching his father's hand tightly in his own, Luke settled down next to the man who had given him life.
The mask must've modified Father's voice to sound like that of a normal human, Luke realized as his Vader's rattled wheezing reached his functional ears. His father's true voice was so feeble, barely able to compete against the hushed circulation of air inside the pod.
Now, the invincible hero that Luke admired looked so terribly frail.
The junior Skywalker watched silently as his father's impaired eyes slowly focused on his face. As each precious feature became clearer, a shot of absolute delight painfully stretched his father's facial muscles and wizened, pallid skin, crinkling his kind eyes, giving him a grin that extended from stub-ear to stub-ear.
"My son…"
He reached out and cupped a shaking hand around the little angel's rosy cheek. Carefully, Luke wormed his way into a tight embrace, nuzzling at the heart-rending ear-stubs and wrapping his arms around the older man's shriveled neck.
Moisture gathered at Vader's aching eyes, and through his unsteady breaths he felt himself sniffle.
His child, all grown up now...
And reunited.
Head-canon continuation that I may/may not write:
-With his son around, Vader's nightmares ease.
-Luke moves the whole Lars family to Coruscant because why not; Kenobi, the old hermit, secretly comes along.
-Obi-Wan and Vader meet; Obi forgives his former apprentice. :_)
-Vader names Luke prince of the Empire.
A/N:
-In this AU, A New Hope never happens, meaning Obi-Wan never tells Luke that his father was really a Jedi. Owen fabricated the lie of Anakin being a regular person. He thought that despite Vader's liberation of Tatooine, the man had killed Anakin and therefore might hurt Luke if he obtained the truth, so it would be best if Luke did not know his father as a Jedi. Kenobi went along with Owen's idea, and furthered it by saying that Anakin was a simple navigator for a spice freighter. (This was also why Luke was told to never show his abilities in public; however, Kenobi forgot to tell the Lars that the presence of an untrained Force-sensitive was highly detectable.)
(Beru was supportive of Luke achieving his dream. Though under her husband's leash, she gathered credits throughout the years, and believing that her nephew was undetectable as long as he didn't show his "powers", she sent him off.)
-check out Kreia's Conundrums if you want- it's a thought-provoking series done by a Youtube channel called Papito Qinn (name: as of 8/6/2018). Personally, I enjoy it.
-thanks for reading! all constructive criticism is welcomed! :)
