Surrounded by blaring alarms, distant detonations, and the hurried footsteps of retreating Imperial personnel, Darth Vader found himself ensnared in a clamorous symphony of destruction. The successful assault led by the Rebellion on the second Death Star had pushed the massive space station to the precipice of annihilation. Time, a commodity once abundant, had become scarce; Luke, desperate and determined, strained to drag the wounded Vader towards a shuttle still docked in the hangar bay.
As they neared the ramp of a Lamba-Class shuttle, Vader's strength abandoned him, causing him to collapse. Luke instinctively dropped to his knees, reaching to hoist his father back onto his feet. But Vader protested.
"Luke…help me…remove this mask."
"But you'll die," Luke responded, his voice trembling with dread.
"Nothing…can prevent that now. Allow me... just this once…to look at you with my own eyes," Vader countered.
With a grim nod, Luke started the delicate task of removing his father's mask. The sight of Vader's disfigured visage sent a pang through him. A frail hand found its way onto Luke's shoulder.
"Now…go my son…leave me," Vader implored in a feeble whisper.
"No, you're coming with me. I refuse to abandon you. I need to save you," Luke vehemently denied.
Raising his eyes to meet Luke's, Vader murmured, "You already…have, Luke…." His gaze hardened, "You were right about me. Tell to your sister…you were right…"
"Father! I will not abandon you!" Luke's voice echoed throughout the hangar.
Suddenly, the ominous tremors caused by distant explosions grew more pronounced. Both father and son felt the Death Star shudder under the onslaught. In a hurried attempt, Luke reached for his father, ready to drag him aboard the shuttle. But Vader, knowing there was no more time, summoned the last remnants of his strength to Force-push Luke into the ship.
"NO, FATHER!" Luke's desperate cry reverberated off the shuttle walls.
"GO, MY SON, SAVE YOURSELF!" Vader's command resonated as he sealed the shuttle's ramp with the Force.
Overcome by frustration and grief, Luke bellowed, "DAMN IT!" before throwing himself into the cockpit. He jostled with an array of switches, bringing the ship to life. Seizing the control stick, he navigated the shuttle out of the hangar and into the vast expanse of space, burdened by the sorrow of leaving his father behind.
From the dwindling safety of the hangar, Vader watched his son's departure with a deep sense of relief. Spent and drained, he crumpled to the ground. Feeling the tug of the Force calling him, he understood his end was imminent. Suddenly, a familiar presence made itself known.
He turned, recognition flickering in his eyes, "Obi-Wan?" he questioned.
"Hello there, old friend. Your journey is not yet complete," the spectral form of Kenobi murmured.
Before Vader could muster a response, a youthful, feminine voice punctuated the silence. "...the wisest, strongest, and most beautiful familiar, I summon you!"
"Wait, Kenobi!" Vader called out, extending an arm towards the receding specter. Suddenly, exhaustion overtook him, and his world blurred until it faded to black.
Glistening rays of sunlight cascaded over the stately Tristian Academy of Magic. The campus, resembling a grand castle nestled within an expansive meadow, was a pentagon architectural marvel. Each corner tower, representing a unique subject, was adorned with a distinct color. Within the academy's robust walls, students resided in dormitories, feasted together, and engaged in diverse discussions or juicy gossip. Most students traveled in packs, with only a few rare loners. Among these outliers was Louise de la Vallière.
Aged 16 and in her second year at the academy, Louise was notably petite and appeared remarkably young for her age. Sporting long, pink hair and matching rosy eyes, she carried a certain charm. Despite being the youngest of three daughters, she held herself with unmerited arrogance and pride, seemingly ignoring her deficient magical prowess compared to her elder sisters. This disparity led her peers to dub her "Louise the Zero" due to her consistent failures in spell-casting, resulting more often than not in explosions. Yet today, any previous insults fell on deaf ears, for it was the day of the familiar summoning ritual. This ceremony marked a rite of passage for second-year students, who would summon and bind with their lifelong magical companions. Louise viewed this as her chance to silence her doubters and perhaps even outdo Kirche, the originator of the demeaning "Zero" nickname, by summoning a familiar of greater power.
While Louise committed the incantation to memory, Professor Colbert emerged into the courtyard, rallying the students. "Everyone, please gather around. It's time to commence the summoning ritual." Her classmates began to trickle towards the courtyard, with Louise following suit, a fierce determination in her heart. "This is where the fun begins," she muttered under her breath.
As the event progressed, her classmates summoned a menagerie of familiars, from the cute and cuddly to the fearsome and draconic. The time came for Louise and her nemesis, Kirche, to summon their familiars.
"Kirche Von Zerbst, you're next," announced Professor Colbert.
Stepping forward confidently, Kirche brandished her wand and recited the incantation. A sphere of dazzling light materialized and revealed a fire salamander as it faded.
"Most impressive, Kirche," complimented Professor Colbert. His gaze skimmed the list before landing on the last name. "Finally, Louise de la Vallière, it's your turn."
As soon as the professor uttered Louise's name, a wave of apprehension swept over the crowd. "Professor, that might not be such a good idea," a student muttered.
Kirche chimed in with a smirk, "Indeed, Professor. Summoning failure seems to be Louise the Zero's specialty."
"Enough. Louise, proceed with the ritual," Professor Colbert encouraged, undeterred by the skepticism.
Louise's resolve intensified upon Kirche's taunt. She stepped forward, wand poised, and began her chant. "Oh, great familiar from beyond the cosmos…."
Hushed whispers erupted among the crowd. "Those aren't the correct words," one student confided in another.
Undeterred, Louise continued, "I call upon the wisest, strongest, and most beautiful familiar. I summon you!"
Almost instantly, a chilling fog enveloped Louise. Unlike her usual magical mishaps that culminated in explosions, this was something entirely different. A tense silence fell over the crowd as they watched the fog intensify, their anxiety mirrored in the wide-eyed expression on Louise's face. The unfamiliar phenomenon had everyone on edge. Suddenly, the sound of deep, inhuman breathing echoed through the fog, sending shivers down everyone's spines. As the fog gradually dissipated, Louise stood face to face with a towering figure, shrouded entirely in black armor.
Speculations ran rampant among the students. "What is that thing? A golem? Or is it even human?"
In his years of teaching, Professor Colbert had never witnessed such an extraordinary summoning. He took a moment to regain his composure before addressing Louise. "Now, Louise, you must complete the final step to form the familiar-mage contract."
Swallowing her fear, Louise responded, "O-ok, I'll try, sir."
Vader, the formidable Dark Lord of the Sith, found himself on the precipice of regaining consciousness. The blurred edges of reality sharpened, and he gradually became aware of his surroundings, a transition not unlike stepping out from a thick veil of the fog into clarity.
His senses returned to him one by one, painting a picture of a scene that was remarkably alien to his expectations. He was standing in the heart of a charming courtyard, cradled within an architectural structure that appeared to be of a simpler time. An assortment of quaint, rustic buildings huddled around the courtyard, their medieval aesthetics seemingly plucked out from an era untouched by the sprawling metropolis landscapes of Coruscant or the high-tech sterility of a Death Star. The buildings appeared to be hewn from stone, and adorned with creepers that hinted at a rich history.
He was the center of attention, encircled by a sea of young faces, a motley crew of adolescents, their expressions a mix of curiosity, awe, and apprehension. Their attire was peculiar, quite unlike the uniforms of the Imperial Officers or the simple garb of the Rebellion he was accustomed to seeing. Instead, their clothing bore a distinct archaic touch, an ensemble of robes in earthy tones that hung loosely on their youthful frames.
A cold whisper of apprehension echoed around him, threading its way through the Force that permeated all living things. He could sense the underlying unease radiating from the young spectators. Despite their clear agitation, the Force whispered to him that he was not in immediate danger. The fear was not pointed towards hostility but rather emerged from a place of uncertainty and dread of the unknown.
Vader became acutely aware that his mask was once again ensconcing his visage, the dark, impersonal facade restored to its rightful place. His missing prosthetic, too, had inexplicably reappeared, reinstating his menacing silhouette. As he assessed his surroundings, his gaze inevitably drifted toward a petite girl standing ahead of him. Her pink hair cascaded down her shoulders, and her eyes, the same delicate hue, were wide with a mixture of trepidation and determination. In comparison to her peers, she appeared strikingly smaller, her stature reminding him of a child trying to blend in amongst adolescents.
Observing her closely, Vader witnessed an exchange between the girl and an older male human who seemed to hold some authority. They spoke in a language unfamiliar to Vader, neither Galactic Basic nor any dialect he knew. Despite this, the Force allowed him to sense the gist of their conversation—the man had issued a directive.
Vader, now on a path of redemption, chose a more measured approach in his interactions. His voice, still resonant with power but restrained in its intensity, broke the silence. "Identify yourself," he commanded, a hint of his former self lurking in the undertone. The crowd around him, sensing his authority, grew tense, yet it was clear they did not understand his words.
Unexpectedly, the pink-haired girl raised her wand. A magical circle, alien yet fascinating, materialized beneath Vader. The energy it emanated was different from the Force, yet just as potent. As pain surged through him, reminiscent of old battles, Vader's resolve was tested. He fought against the searing wave with a resilience honed by years of suffering and strife, but eventually, his strength waned, and he succumbed, his knees buckling as he once again slipped into unconsciousness.
The students watched in silence, a mix of fear and awe in their eyes. An enigmatic symbol appeared on the back of Vader's gloved hand, drawing Professor Colbert's attention. Despite his extensive knowledge, the professor could not decipher its meaning. This symbol, the mysterious fog, and the formidable figure of Vader intertwined to deepen the enigma that now lay before them. The air was thick with anticipation and uncertainty, and the courtyard seemed to be on the cusp of an extraordinary saga.
Vader, even in this vulnerable state, remained observant. He took note of Colbert's intrigued gaze, recognizing the look of a man accustomed to puzzles and knowledge. In this new world, amidst magic and mystery, Vader found himself calculating, pondering potential alliances and threats, and considering his next move in a game that was just beginning.
Later that evening, Vader regained consciousness in a small, unfamiliar room. Instead of immediately confronting the situation, he silently observed his surroundings – the modest furnishings, the window, the bed – with a calculating eye. His attention then shifted to the pink-haired girl from before, who was brushing her hair in front of a mirror. After a moment of careful consideration, he decided to break the silence in a tone that, while still authoritative, carried a hint of his newfound restraint.
"Who are you, and where am I?" Vader asked, his voice resonating with a controlled power as he stepped toward her.
Louise, the young girl, responded with a sigh of annoyance, a reaction that puzzled Vader. He had expected fear, not this. She then grabbed a strange stick and began chanting in an incomprehensible language. Vader sensed a surge of energy – different from the Force but equally potent. Before he could react, an explosion engulfed the room in smoke.
As the smoke cleared, Louise declared triumphantly, "Finally, now that I've done that spell of silence, I don't have to hear that stupid loud voice of yours again."
To Vader's surprise, he understood her words. "So, you speak Basic?" he inquired, his tone a mix of curiosity and underlying menace.
Louise looked taken aback. "What? But I did the spell of silence. How can you understand me?" she asked, confusion lacing her voice.
"Now that we can understand each other, who are you?" Vader's voice was firm, yet it carried a depth that went beyond mere intimidation. His towering presence was imposing, yet his stance betrayed a momentary reflection of his past.
Louise sensed the shift in his demeanor. "W-Well, my name is Louise de la Vallière. I'm your master, and you're my familiar," she answered, her voice tinged with nervousness.
"Master?" The word resonated with Vader, awakening memories of his childhood on Tatooine. The thought of being enslaved again stirred a deep-seated anger in him, but it was an anger tempered by years of conflict and change. His eyes narrowed, not just in rage, but in a resolute determination born from his long journey from slave to Sith Lord, and now to something new.
His mind raced, grappling with the notion of servitude versus this new concept of a 'familiar'. His body tensed, reflecting the turmoil within, yet he maintained an outward composure that had been his armor for so long. The room seemed to pulse with the unspoken tension between them, a silent standoff that held the echoes of Vader's tumultuous past and the uncertainty of his new reality.
Louise felt a chilling presence fill the room, the air growing colder as Vader's anger manifested. She stepped back, fear mounting in her eyes. Instead of physical aggression, Vader's hands raised, not to harm, but to assert control, his power palpable yet restrained.
As Louise braced for the worst, Vader's mind was assaulted by a memory: the final moments with his son on the Death Star. Luke's pleas, the conflict within, and finally, the redemptive compassion in his son's eyes. It was a turmoil that echoed in his heart, even now.
Vader's grip never materialized; instead, his hands trembled, reflecting the war within. The Sith Lord stood, a figure of power, yet visibly wrestling with his past and the choices before him. The room was silent, save for the echo of distant memories.
After a moment that seemed an eternity, Vader's posture softened slightly, a subtle yet profound surrender to the better path he sought. He turned away from Louise, his cape billowing as he moved towards the door.
"I am my own master," Vader murmured, more to himself than to Louise, a reaffirmation of his newfound path. His voice carried not disdain but a complex tapestry of regret, determination, and a hint of newfound hope.
As he exited, Louise's voice called out, a mix of relief and confusion. "H-Hey, wait! You can't just leave!" Her words trailed off as the door slammed shut, leaving her alone with her thoughts and the lingering presence of a man caught between two worlds.
As Vader walked through the dormitory hallway, his cape billowing behind him, he noticed a young blond man flirting with a woman. He paid them little attention until the man, Guiche, addressed him mockingly.
"Ah, the infamous familiar that Louise had summoned. I must say, you are quite an eyesore," Guiche smirked.
Vader stopped, fixing Guiche with a piercing gaze. He said nothing, his silence a palpable force. The temperature seemed to drop, an unspoken warning emanating from him.
"Huh? D-Do you think you can scare the great Guiche? Know your place, peasant," Guiche stuttered, his confidence faltering.
Vader continued to stare, his presence alone enough to unnerve. Then, with a subtle gesture, Guiche suddenly clutched at his throat, gasping, as if an invisible hand were tightening around it. The demonstration of power was brief but unmistakable.
Releasing the invisible grip, Vader leaned in. "Mock me again at your peril," he warned, his voice a cold whisper.
Guiche fell to the ground, coughing and clutching his throat. The woman screamed, backing away from the scene.
Vader turned, leaving Guiche on the floor, a clear message delivered without the need for excessive violence. As he walked away, Guiche tried to salvage his pride, saying weakly to the woman, "D-Don't worry, madam, I let him off with a warning," his voice betraying his fear.
As Vader stepped into the courtyard, the night sky greeted him, adorned with stars and twin moons reminiscent of Tatooine. Lost in thought, he was startled by a familiar blue apparition appearing beside him.
"Reminds you of home, don't they?" Obi-Wan Kenobi's spectral form asked gently.
Vader turned, his voice tinged with a blend of surprise and old bitterness. "Obi-Wan, what is this planet? Why have I been brought here? I thought my path had ended."
Obi-Wan's expression was solemn yet kind. "My old friend, the Force works in mysterious ways. Your journey did not end on the Death Star. This world... it may not be a punishment, but rather, a chance for something more. A chance for redemption, from a certain point of view."
"Redemption?" Vader echoed, his voice a mix of skepticism and a deep-seated longing. His past, a litany of shadowed deeds, loomed over him.
"Yes, Anakin. You've been brought back to the light by Luke's faith in you. Now, the Force offers a new beginning. This planet, these challenges, they are an opportunity – not just for redemption, but to confront the truths within yourself," Obi-Wan counseled, his voice echoing the wisdom of ages.
As Obi-Wan's form began to fade, Vader remained silent, gazing into the night sky. The ghost of his former mentor vanished, leaving him alone with the echoes of his past and the daunting prospect of a future he had never dared to imagine. In the stillness, Vader stood, a lone figure grappling with the weight of a second chance
Vader remained silent, lost in thought. The idea of another chance, after being the Empire's iron hand, seemed unfathomable. Yet, Luke had illuminated a path he thought forever lost. Perhaps Obi-Wan was right; this world might be an opportunity for something new.
His contemplation was interrupted by Louise's voice calling out to him. She stopped beside him, breathless.
Louise took a deep breath. "I...I just wanted to say that...that I'm sorry for what I said earlier. I didn't mean to offend you."
Vader studied her, the weight of history in his eyes. "Apology accepted. But understand that I am not your servant."
"I know," Louise said quickly. "But as my familiar, you are bound to me. You can't just leave like that."
His expression darkened, a mix of defiance and memories of past chains. "I have been bound before — to fate, to the Emperor. I will not be shackled again," he stated firmly.
"But a familiar has to stay with the mage that summons them," Louise insisted. "That's how the bond works."
Vader considered leaving, but a strategic part of him suggested patience. This planet was unknown; perhaps Louise held valuable information.
He loomed over her, an imposing figure. "I will stay for now," he declared, "but do not mistake my presence for obedience. I am no one's puppet."
Louise's smile wavered, a mixture of fear and an attempt to understand this enigmatic being. "Of course not," she said. "But I think we can still be of use to each other."
His gaze was piercing. "I am not a familiar," he intoned. "And you are not my master."
"I understand," she replied softly. "But...can I at least know your name?"
He paused, the name 'Vader' carrying the echoes of his past. "You may call me Vader," he said, a tinge of resignation to the title he once claimed with pride, now a reminder of the path he had walked and the one he was yet to tread.
And that's a wrap of the first chapter. I had this idea for a kind of what-if story with two of my favorite series, "Familiar of Zero" and "Star Wars." I honestly had a lot of fun writing it in general. Keep in mind that this is my first Fanfic, so give me all the criticism. I'd appreciate it. Till the next time.