Chapter Text
Luke couldn’t talk, so he didn’t ask for permission. He just went to the one door and pressed the button to open it.
And again.
And again.
And again, and again, and again, and again, and again, until he was hitting it with the heel of his open palm, little aborted whining noises trapped in his throat, throwing his whole body weight against it as he hit the button again, again, again, again again again again agai—
Gloved hands gently took his hand and pulled him away from the door.
Without missing a beat, Luke directed his energy backwards into his assailant and drove his elbow at their face. Nauseating tingles raced up his ulnar nerve and he choked, but didn’t stop trying to hit, and hit, and hit, mind empty of every thought except escape.
He gradually became aware of a “Shhhhhhhh” noise, modulated, and then there was a rumble, soft and soothing, that ran through his body and loosened his muscles. Luke’s knees buckled as he was pulled backwards again.
The next thing he knew, he was laid out on a couch, hand still enclosed in someone else’s. He looked up blearily.
Vader’s scarred face looked back.
Luke couldn’t pick out emotion right now any more than he could speak. Vader‘s thoughts were a mystery.
Luke’s mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. He tried to plead with his eyes, desperate, but who the hells knew if his face was doing what he wanted it to. It didn’t always. Right now it felt more like a spasm than an expression.
Vader let go of Luke’s hand with one hand and brushed the hair off of Luke’s forehead. Luke shuddered at the touch. Unpleasant prickles shivered all over his skin. He tried to squirm away and hit the back of the couch; there was nowhere to go. Vader didn’t seem to notice Luke’s reaction. He just continued to stroke and pet Luke’s hair, apparently under the delusion that it was providing some sort of comfort.
“Shhhhh, my dragonling.”
Right.
That.
Upon waking, he’d found himself in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar room, in an unfamiliar place, with an unfamiliar feeling pressing out of him like the need to throw up, except…different. More like the need to turn inside-out.
He’d scrambled out from under the thick—comfortable—covers only to find Lord Vader standing at his bedside. And that he wasn’t wearing his peacock costume anymore. Instead, Luke found himself clothed in a black uniform, with a high neck and decorative, shimmering golden scales dripping from his shoulders like epaulets, long ones that crept down his arms. A beat later, he registered that the shimmer on the thread of the scales was enchantment.
He’d backed up in fear.
At an attempt, his magick was still reachable, but there was some new dimension to it, and that new dimension was blocked as securely as if his hands were tied behind his back.
Vader had answered the question before Luke could ask it.
“To denote your rank.” Vader had sounded proud. His scarred, pockmarked face was certainly haughty. “And to make sure your lessers can still identify you when you transform.”
Transform.
Instead of confronting the fear and confusion bubbling up within him, Luke asked the easier, less-pressing question: “ Rank? Lessers?! ”
“You are my son. Therefore you are the Prince.”
“Your son? ” Luke’s face contorted in disgust. “You ate my father. How dare you claim me as—”
“Your Master did not tell you everything. I will.” Vader took a step forward. Luke took one back, and hit the wall. Vader didn’t stop. He grabbed Luke’s face and looked directly in his eyes, his gaze a burning thing that stared right into Luke’s soul and consumed it. Luke felt his throat close. “You are my son. You are a shifter, as I am. Kenobi stole you. I will teach you how to control your shifting; for now, it is kept in check by your garment. Do not take it off. This wing of the palace is not built to withstand our other forms. You will find yourself weak and buried in rubble, which I will pluck you out of and bring you to a new wing. Do not attempt to do any other magicks, or you will find that the collar of your uniform is lined with enchantments which will make it very unpleasant for you. Behave, and I will give you something different to wear. In time, you will learn to control yourself, and you will stand by my side.”
Unable to speak, Luke wrenched his face out of Vader’s grip and ran. Unfortunately, there was little space to run. Luke had ended up sulking in a window ledge, watching the trees outside sway in a breeze he was barred from.
That was two days ago. Vader had been…kinder, since then, but utterly unyielding. During their few magick lessons so far, Vader had been the one to unbutton Luke’s collar. Luke shivered at having the Dragon of the Core’s killing hands so close to his throat…
Luke had not left the set of rooms he’d woken up in. There was a bedroom, a refreshing room, a dining room, a training room, and a sitting room. There was only one door, which Luke never saw open, although he knew it must be the way that Vader left; or maybe the Dragon of the Core left through the window and transformed mid-air. Crazy bastard. The only modicum of privacy Luke got was the curtain over the entryway to the bedroom; every other room just had an open entryway, like the gap where a tooth should be. In the training room, Vader used magick to unbutton Luke’s collar and taught him how to push and pull objects with magick. Luke tried to hide how much he already knew, but it was futile when Vader had him think fast. Then it was lessons in shifting, without actually shifting.
And always, Vader had a hand on him. Holding Luke’s shoulder, sitting so close their arms brushed, holding Luke’s hand. It was like Vader couldn’t believe he was real.
Luke didn’t want to believe that Vader was real. His father, in the bloody flesh, instead of long-dead at a villain’s hand. The concept was foreign. Foreign, also, was Luke’s own skin, which constantly wanted to burst out of itself, held back only by the enchanted thread scales, and his reactions. All Vader had to do was make that rumbling noise in his chest, and Luke found himself weak in the knees, utterly calm and sleepy.
Ben, why didn’t you tell me… Why didn’t you tell me anything ?!
Ben hadn’t even told him he was a shifter…
Why? Had he been afraid? Afraid that Luke would turn out just like his father? Afraid that Luke would find out about his father? It was pretty obvious once Luke knew that he could shift.
Now, Luke sat in the window ledge again, gazing out at the horizon. A very different horizon than he’d looked at all his childhood in Tatooine lands.
At this point, he didn’t think he would ever return. Whether or not Vader ever let him go.
“Luke.”
Luke didn’t turn. Vader was just going to take his hand and pull him wherever he wanted Luke to be, anyway.
The buttoned collar around his throat had never felt so tight.