There was a part of him that knew he never should have taken him, but seeing Obi-Wan with his son - his child that he'd been told had died along with his wife - had been too much to bear. A flash of red hot anger and the deed was done, like so many times before. He should have walked away, but somehow couldn't leave him alone in the unforgiving galaxy, those wide eyes fixed on him.
Uncle Ben, he'd called him. Well, at least Obi-Wan hadn't called himself the boy's father. Not that Vader had yet. Not that Vader even knew if he was. Physically, yes, of course, but the day that Padme had died he'd tucked Anakin Skywalker so far away that he might as well have been dead. No longer were the terrible deeds he did in the name of saving her, but because he had nothing left. He was Vader. And this child…. was Padme's. He looked like Anakin, but every inch of the soul felt like Padme's. Vader knew he'd only destroy that if he kept him there with him.
But somewhere on the flight the little boy - Luke. That was the name she had given him - had gotten closer and closer until he was practically in Vader's lap, sleep tugging on his young mind.
Five. It had been five years since Padme had died, so he wasn't any older than that. So young and so innocent and so very, very vulnerable, but Luke trusted him. Perhaps his instincts told him who he was, even if Vader couldn't admit it aloud. Maybe… maybe this was a chance that he hadn't dared hoped for. Maybe he could train him. He could protect him from every danger at every angle, including his own Master.
Vader found a gloved hand against blond hair, despite every inch of his darkened soul screaming against it. This child - his boy - was a flicker of light. A danger to his source of power. He should cast him aside, but he couldn't. He knew he couldn't.
And so he'd hide him away. Protect him. Train him. Someday, he and his son would set the galaxy right.
Uncle Ben had been afraid of the tall man dressed all in black. Afraid… and something else. Luke didn't know what. It had been heavy, like the blanket fort he'd made once that had gotten wet when the rain came. Not sad. It was more than sad, but he hadn't had a chance to ask as the closest thing he'd had to a father had pushed him in the opposite direction and told him to run. He hadn't come back. Maybe Luke had run too far.
The man had found him, though, and Luke had felt surprise leap off of him. He wasn't mean to him and he was afraid too, even if he didn't say it. Afraid and sad and maybe a little bit of the same heavy feeling that Uncle Been had felt. He had bent down and scooped Luke up from the corner he'd tucked himself away in and something in Luke told him this man wasn't going to hurt him. Uncle Ben had always said to trust his feelings.
He didn't see Uncle Ben again. He didn't know if he ever would. He had asked the tall man where he went and the man had told him that things were being "put right," whatever that meant. He thought Uncle Ben had taken him - stolen him, he said - away from his father. Luke didn't know his father. Everybody had one, he guessed, but he didn't know much about his. He had asked the man if he was taking him to his father and he sure thought that the grunt behind the mask was a yes.
The man lived in a castle. A real castle with fire coming out of it. Luke had pressed his nose against the window of the shuttle as it landed, half expecting to see some sort of monster come out of it. Instead the hangar doors opened and the man landed, the shuttle jolting a little under them. That's where the excitement ended, though. The castle felt empty and strangely cold, even with the fire all around it. It was a cold that left him scared, but one look at the man and Luke had tried to ignore it. He was brave, even though he was scared. Luke could be too.
It wasn't totally empty. There'd been a hooded man that greeted them and called the man dressed in black Lord Vader. The name didn't sound right to Luke, but if the hooded man said it maybe it was true. His name was Vaneé, Luke finally found out, but only because he asked. Uncle Ben would have told him to be patient. He wasn't very good at that though, and Lord Vader didn't seem to mind.
So Luke asked questions. Where were they? Mustafar. What's that? A planet. Was this a castle? Yes. Did he have an Arkanian Dragon? No. Did he live here? Sometimes. Did Luke's father live here?
Lord Vader stopped mid-stride, not turning, but Luke could feel the conflict.
"Uncle Ben didn't wanna talk 'bout him."
"Out," Lord Vader snapped at Vaneé and the old man scuttled away, leaving Luke standing alone with Lord Vader, his loud breathing echoing in the room.
"Are you my father?" Luke asked, the question leaving him on instinct.
He thought he heard a sigh escape from the mask and he felt the answer. It was true. Uncle Ben had told him his dad was dead, that that was why he couldn't talk about him. He missed him. He'd loved him.
"Obi-Wan lied to you," Luke's father growled as if he'd read his thoughts.
"Can you feel it too?"
His father turned, the mask facing Luke now and he could imagine a set of eyes much like his own behind it. He wondered why he wore it. "Yes."
"Uncle Ben was teaching me," Luke continued, his little nose scrunching up as he remembered all of the frustrated moments. "He said I didn't like to wait."
"Impatient," his father provided the word and Luke nodded. "He often said that." He tilted his head and Luke swallowed down the question about the mask that kept trying to escape. "Would you like me to teach you about the Force?"
He'd been waiting a long time to find out more. He was pretty sure all five years of his life. He and Uncle Ben had moved often and he'd never really known where he came from. The stories Uncle Ben let slip had been few and far between, and maybe not even true, but this was. He couldn't see his father's face, but Luke knew when to trust his feelings. Maybe he could tell Luke all the things about his family that he didn't know.
He nodded and grabbed his father's hand. It tensed for a half a second, but then gently closed around Luke's much smaller one as the two started down the castle hallway and towards his first lesson.
It had taken some time to find a rhythm. His duty took him to every corner of the galaxy, and while leaving Luke on Mustafar wasn't ideal, taking him aboard the Executioner was out of the question. The 501st were loyal, but his flagship housed nearly forty thousand between troop and crew. Someone would notice the boy and, somehow, it would get back to Palpatine. No, Luke was safer on Mustafar because, even if Vader couldn't be there himself, the Sith Cave under his fortress would work well to shield the boy from his Master's notice.
He was a quick study, and it was clear that Obi-Wan had begun to teach him before Vader had uncovered the truth. Young as he was, Luke was able to move small objects with the Force and his instincts were sharp. He learned quickly, just as a young Anakin Skywalker had, and was just as easily bored by lessons too easily conquered. Part of that showed in driving Vaneé further into madness - exploring the fortress, dismantling droids to try to put them back together, and even a dangerous trip down to the lava's edge that nearly cost his incompetent servant his life for allowing it to happen - and part in the Force bond that was forming. That the boy was initiating.
Luke wasn't afraid of him. Just opposite, somehow, and as weeks turned into months, Vader could feel the young mind reaching to his. First it was when he was in the fortress, but then, on longer trips, he could feel his son touching his mind from across the galaxy. It was a strange sensation, full of trust that pushed back the cold he'd become so accustomed to since that day in Palpatine's office when he'd taken the knee and sworn his loyalty. It was dangerous, but no matter how many times he pushed Luke out, the boy managed to find a way back in.
"I'm not afraid," his son told him after a lecture on staying hidden. "I wanna go with you."
"No."
"Why?"
Because he'll find you. They were words Vader didn't dare speak out loud, but ones the inquisitive child clearly heard through the bond that was becoming stronger and stronger each day.
"You won't let anybody hurt me," Luke said firmly, turning those pale blue eyes up at Vader. "Right?"
His chest tightened dangerously and he pushed away memories from a life that should have been long-gone. A life in which he'd fought so hard, but he'd never had the power to protect those he loved. And here was Padme's son, staring up at him with no fear because he trusted his father to protect him.
Vader's hand seemed to move without permission as he set it on top of blond hair and his next breath rasped even more than usual as he pulled it unsteadily in. "I will protect you," he swore. "I will always protect you."
Luke grinned up at him, the light beaming off the child tugging at what was left of his soul.
"You wanna see the droid I'm building?" his son asked, taking the hand on his head so that he could pull Vader after him. And he let himself be pulled, if only for the moment.
Vader had known no peace in the years after his turn, and following the death of the woman he loved and what he had thought had been the death of their child, he'd wanted no peace. It would only serve to dampen his newfound powers in the Dark Side. And yet... he'd found slivers of it, just as he feared he had when he brought Luke with him. In moments it dulled the perpetual pain and urged hope that had been buried so deeply inside of him.
And maybe that's how it had happened.
There had been a desperate chill that ran through him, and it was the only warning that Vader had as he finished his report, still knelt on one knee with his face turned down as the holo projection of his Master loomed before him. "And onto other business," the Sith Lord said. "The boy."
It was like a lightsaber piercing through his chest. For a moment he couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Desperately Vader tried to clamp down on the mix of terror rising in him and the explosive rage that would be directed on the party guilty of letting it slip. The list of people that knew Luke was there was painfully small.
"Did you think you could hide him from me?" Palpatine asked. "The last remaining Youngling of the old Order."
Memories flashed through his mind and dread clawed at him. No. No, he would not allow Palpatine to kill his son. His own child. Or command him to do it. It was an order that he wouldn't follow. He'd learned he was capable of most anything if given the right circumstances, but surely even he wasn't capable of that.
A rough, dark chuckle left his Master. "Do not be troubled, my friend. The Younglings in the temple had been corrupted by the Order, but perhaps there is a place for your son in my Empire." Somehow, the words didn't give Vader any comfort. Nor did the ones that followed. "You will bring him to Coruscant so that I may watch over his training."
There was a moment, brief and flickering, that Vader considered running. Scooping Luke up and disappearing into the Outer Rim or the Unknown Region.
But the reality came quickly on the thought's heels: there was no running. There was nowhere Palpatine would not find them. There was only biding his time.
"Yes, my Master," Vader spoke, his voice low and determinedly steady. If Luke was to get out of this alive, it was the way it had to be. He couldn't protect his son if he was dead.
Everything was big. The sky, the planet, and all the tall, tall buildings that Luke thought looked like should have been able to reach into space. There were so many of them. So many new things. When they'd come in, Father had even tilted the shuttle so Luke could see the mountains and the ocean off in the distance. It'd been so pretty that he'd crawled up on the dash just to get a better look before his father had pulled him back into his seat. He wanted to see it all, but Father wouldn't let him. Not yet. Maybe after they did whatever it was that he didn't want to do he'd take him to see the streets far below where they had landed.
This place - Coruscant - was busier than where they lived in the big black castle with Vaneé. From the moment they landed he felt the unspoken order of silence filtered over their bond and Luke found himself having to run to catch up with his father's long strides. When they crossed someone through the hangar or in the halls the person would stop, scooting out of their way and standing stiffly until they passed. They were scared - so was his father. He was just better at hiding it - but Luke didn't know why.
The further in they walked, the fewer people he saw. Finally they reached a lift and, once they were alone, his father turned his black mask towards him. "Say nothing unless spoken to. Say nothing more than to answer the question asked. Understood?"
"Yes, Father." Luke said dutifully. He tried to reach out through the bond to cheer him up like he often did, but felt an immediate push back. Father didn't want to be cheered up. He wouldn't even let him try.
The doors opened and Luke followed him out on his heels, not daring to be left behind. There were two Humans - he though so, anyway - in red robes standing at the door. They didn't scoot out of the way, but opened the door for them. The room was huge and dark and cold. Colder than the castle, but he'd gotten used to that. Maybe this was why his father was afraid. Luke was a little scared now too.
"Come closer, child," a voice called from the shadows and Luke stopped, the want to run overwhelming.
His father nudged him forward with the Force and he squinted, his eyes adjusting enough to see a figure in a dark robe sitting on a dark throne in the dark room. He took another step forward, then another, and a shiver ran down his spine at the wrinkled old man peering out from the robe with his yellow eyes. He gave a strange smile that looked anything but friendly. "Yes," he said, but Luke didn't know what question he was answering. "You look just like your father did when I first met him. He was only a little older than you are now."
Luke looked back at his father, hoping for some sort of direction. He didn't receive any. That mask was as emotionless as ever.
The robed man looked him up and down and Luke felt pressure on his mind that sent another shiver through him. "And powerful too. I can feel it. You will stay here in the palace."
"With my father?" Luke asked without stopping to remember the rule: Say nothing more than to answer the question asked.
"We shall see," the robed man said and Luke didn't like that tone. He was lying. He wanted to take him away from his father. He wanted to steal him like Father had said Uncle Ben did.
Luke started for his father - why did he seem so far away? - and with a small flick of the robed man's hand, every muscle in his small body seemed to freeze. He couldn't move and panic started to creep in.
"Luke," his father hissed, but Luke was already desperately fighting the hold as the fear built inside, threatening to overflow.
"Let go!" Luke yelled and the glass behind the robed man cracked, the sound echoing through the room. Blue eyes found yellow and the big, black chair the robed man sat in lurched from where it was bolted to the floor, jolting him to standing. Luke saw rotting teeth as the man laughed and anger flooded his mind. He wanted to leave. He wanted to go home. He wanted —
The glass exploded behind the robed man and sped towards him, stopping halfway to him as he held up his free hand, the one pointing at Luke as if to hold him in place twitching down and the boy hit the marble floor hard.
"Yes. Very powerful indeed," the robed man chuckled, his voice distant. "You've done well bringing him here, Lord Vader."
Luke heard his father respond, but couldn't make out what he said. Instead, as the room faded around him, he only felt the touch of his father's mind over their bond, trying to calm him. But there was something else mixed with the reassurance. It was that heavy feeling that Luke would someday know was guilt.
He wanted to go home.
The first night that Luke spent on Coruscant, all he could think was how much he hated it. He hated the loud noises, the freezing cold floors, and robed guards that sent him scurrying immediately back into the room when he'd stopped crying long enough to go looking for his father. He was alone and he was scared and his father had promised to protect him. He'd promised.
Luke reached out and felt darkness return over the bond. Fear, anger, and other emotions he wasn't sure he wanted to know.
I want to go home, he pushed the words and the feeling past the barriers his father put up, feeling fresh tears threaten as he curled up around a pillow on the bed that was far too big for him. I want to go home.
He didn't know when he fell asleep or how long he slept, but he woke to the sound of his father's breathing through the face mask and one large, black glove on his small shoulder. Slowly he blinked sleep out of his eyes as he tried to piece together where he was.
Then reality came crashing back in. "Where were you?" he demanded, jerking out from under the gloved hand and rolling to stand on the bed. Even with the added height, his father loomed over him. He was bigger, stronger, and he was supposed to protect him. He'd promised, but after what had happened he just left him. Luke felt fresh tears building as he lashed out over their bond, unable to find words to express the overwhelming feeling of betrayal.
Images slammed into him like he'd been hit again and he fell back into the bed, fractured glimpses of bright, blue-white light and searing pain followed by endless floating and for a moment he thought he was drowning.
Then the images were yanked away as fast as they'd appeared and his father had his hand on his head, the closest thing to a hug as he seemed to be able to give. "Breathe, Luke," Father reminded him.
He'd done something. The hooded man had done something and —
"Enough," his father growled out and Luke choked down the next sob. "You're angry. Hold onto that. Focus it. Use it above fear and someday, you will be more powerful than even the Emperor is. He has foreseen it."
Luke sat there for a long moment and tried to push back his fear. Both his own and the fear he'd known had been his father's. Maybe being brave and strong was just not showing it. He could be strong. Father was strong. If they both were, nobody could hurt either of them and then neither of them would really be afraid. "When?"
"When you've completed your training."
He thought about it and nodded determinedly. "Can we start now?"
And just like that, Luke felt a glimmer of pride flicker over their bond.
There were a lot of rules on Coruscant. Technically there had been a lot of rules on Mustafar too, but if Father wasn't around, Vaneé was really bad at making Luke do something he didn't want to do. It was funny. He didn't think he would miss Vaneé if he got to go on an adventure with his father, but after just a few weeks on Coruscant, Luke was sure that he'd prefer Vaneé over Emperor Palpatine. They were both hooded and old, but at least Vaneé didn't scare him.
No, Luke reminded himself. He'd promised Father he wouldn't be scared. He would train and when he was afraid, he'd remember how angry he'd felt when the Emperor had hurt him and pulled his father away from him. If he trained hard enough, someday he wouldn't be able to do it again.
It wasn't someday yet.
Father had been gone for a few days and Luke had worked hard while he was gone. He was meditating and focusing, channeling and growing the power even quicker than he had on Mustafar. Even more interesting than being able to semi-reliably move objects a whole lot bigger than he used to or being able to reach further and further to touch his father's mind was the set of instructions his father had left him.
He'd never been very good at following instructions. He preferred to take things apart to see how they worked, but he couldn't do that if it started broken. A bunch of little pieces laid all over the room and they were supposed to fit together. He looked at the instructions, back to the pieces, and back to the instructions. None of it made sense.
Luke pulled in a deep breath and closed his eyes. He could do this. He had to do this. It was supposed to be finished by the time Father got back. He couldn't start the next level of training until it was.
Another deep breath, then another, and he focused on what was supposed to be the end result. He felt something whoosh by his nose and cracked one eye open to see all the little pieces floating in the air. Well, that was a good sign.
One by one the pieces fit together, twisting and clicking and snapping into place. He watched the wires thread together and the cylinder over them to resemble his father's own lightsaber. He held it out and turned it over in his hands, one thumb running along the smooth surface of the handle. That looked right. It was a little big, but he'd grow into it.
He touched the trigger and nothing happened. No snap-hiss that he'd become accustomed to hearing from the red lightsaber his father carried or even - if he thought back far enough - Uncle Ben's blue lightsaber. There was nothing.
The door to the room opened without warning and Luke jumped to his feet, the useless lightsaber still in his hands and positioned between himself and the intruder. Instantly, the sense of danger melted away as blue eyes focused on the black-clad form of his father and Luke felt the first real smile since he'd left. "You're back!"
His father didn't answer as he strode into the room, the door sliding behind him and he came to stand in front of Luke. He extended one gloved hand and the boy handed over his project for inspection.
"It doesn't have a power source," Luke pointed out after a moment. "It won't turn on."
"No," his father breathed out and reached deep into the folds of his suit for something. Luke waited as patiently as he could, tipping up on his toes in vain to try to get a better look at what he was fitting into the hilt and tilted his head in curious question as he slid a piece back into place. "The Kyber crystal is the power source for all lightsabers," his father explained as he handed the hilt back to him and took a step back, allowing his son room to flick the switch.
A crimson blade - just like his father's - leapt from the hilt and Luke stared at it in awe. "Do I get to learn?"
"Yes, but first, my Master requires our presence."
Luke swallowed hard, the blade disappearing. He hadn't seen Palpatine since the first day that he'd met him and he was pretty sure he never wanted to again. He gripped the hilt tightly. "Can I take it with me?"
"You'll need to," his father said and moved towards the door.
Luke scurried behind him, his shorter legs working doubletime to keep up. They wove through the hallways and he tried to memorize the path they were taking so that he could find his way around like he had back home in the castle on Mustafar. Finally, they reached familiar doors and the familiar Red Guards that stood in front of them. As before, they were allowed to enter.
"I understand your studies have paid off, my child," Palpatine said from deep in his shadows and Luke tightened his grip once again on the hilt of his newly constructed lightsaber. He wasn't sure if it would do him any good if the Emperor decided to attack him again, but he would put up a fight if he did. "Come," the aged, robed man said as he reached a gnarled hand out to him. "Show me."
He didn't have much of a choice. Luke stepped forward and Palpatine took the hilt from his smaller hand. He turned it over, inspecting it, and the red blade leapt to life without warning. He eyed it and turned the same strange smile on Luke that he'd given when the boy had shattered the glass behind him. He braced himself, ready for the worst, but the blade disappeared.
"You constructed it yourself?" Palpatine asked.
"Yes," he managed to squeak out.
"With no help?"
He thought of the power source his father must have slipped into it, but that was it. "Father left instructions," Luke answered.
"Very good. Very good indeed." He handed the lightsaber back to him. "The Rule of Two prevents me from teaching you myself, but your father may instruct you under my supervision. I have foreseen great power in you, young one. Great power."
Young one. Child. He wondered if the Emperor even knew his name. "My name's Luke."
A rough, ugly chuckle left the man at that. "It was, but Luke Skywalker is too easily connected with Anakin Skywalker -"
Luke looked back to his father, feeling a strange pain emanate from him at the name.
"- and you wouldn't want to put your father in jeopardy, would you?"
His chest tightened suddenly and he wondered how a name could be dangerous. He looked to his father and back to the Emperor. "No," Luke managed. "How would I do that?"
"No one must know that Anakin Skywalker survived Order 66, and because of that, no one must know Luke Skywalker lives. No…. From this day you will have a new name. One worthy of a future Sith. Destined for greatness in our order. From this day you will be called Natus."
The name settled on him, heavy and cumbersome, as if he'd tried to put on his father's armor. It wasn't comfortable and it didn't feel right, but he wanted to protect his father. He gave him one more look and saw the barest of nods. Okay. If it would help protect him, he could learn to be Natus.
TBC
Notes: This was a plot bunny that just wouldn't leave me alone, so here we are. I thought about starting it several different ways and even tried a couple before I settled on a set of drabbles to get little Luke through that first year, and for anyone that follows me on Tumblr you may have seen those. There's so much of Luke's personality in canon and the EU that is influenced by being raised in a mostly-peaceful environment with his very normal aunt and uncle... away from the Force, away from the dangers of being Darth Vader's child, and then coming into his own in the midst of the Rebellion. I'm very excited to see how much of Luke Skywalker is born out of that and how much of it is just him. So here we go. I'd love to hear your thoughts and I'll get the next chapter up as quickly as I can!
Next Time: Luke discovers that he's not the only child in the Imperial Palace as Palpatine works to drive a subtle wedge between father and son.