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Arms folded over his chest, Vader stared out of the main viewport as the Lambda-class shuttle he’d requisitioned decelerated and drifted slowly toward the atmosphere of Coruscant. His mask concealed his concerned scowl as he gave a sidelong glance at Luke, who was all but bouncing on the co-pilot’s seat. Before enrolling in the Imperial Academy, Vader imagined the boy had never left the wretched rock Kenobi had tried to hide him on.
But even though Vader could sense Luke was barely able to contain his excitement for the festivities to come, he wouldn’t scold him for such behavior. Not today.
Because today, of all days, the boy deserved to be proud of what he’d accomplished in such a short period of time. Not every cadet was ever invited to the annual ball at the Imperial Palace, and even fewer were allowed to bask in the Emperor’s attention. While Vader himself detested the Imperial elite and their social gatherings such as this, he wouldn’t have denied Luke his well-deserved moment in the spotlight.
And yet bringing his son straight into the viper’s nest that was the Imperial Palace concerned him. Allowing Luke to attend the ball alone had always been out of the question, even though Vader knew that to keep the boy out of harm’s way, he could only protect him from the shadows.
As aside from the Emperor himself, no one was allowed to discover the truth about what exactly made young Luke Skywalker, a mere farm boy from a backwater planet in the Outer Rim with no significant family history, so invaluable. There was already plenty of speculation about the identity of Skywalker’s secret sponsor pulling strings behind the scenes and opening him doors that otherwise wouldn’t open.
But there was no sponsor. Vader didn’t play favorites, and his own son was no exception. Everything Luke had accomplished, he’d accomplished on his own. According to his Academy reports, he was an exceptional pilot. Hot-headed, for sure, and even reckless, but deadly efficient in the cockpit all the same. Had his instructors at the Academy not seen his immense potential and recommended him to certain high-ranking officers in the Imperial navy, the word of a boy named Skywalker and his remarkable prowess might not have reached Vader so soon.
Ever since discovering he had a son, Vader had made plans for Luke’s future, and so undoubtedly did the Emperor. All the more reason for him to attend the Emperor’s ball, so he could keep an eye on the boy. He couldn’t afford him to slip through his fingers. Luke wasn’t quite ready to begin his true training, but one of these days, the time would be right for him to embrace his destiny. Until then, it was for the best of his peers in the Academy, as well as Vader’s countless enemies among the Imperial ranks, remained under the impression that there was absolutely nothing noteworthy about the Skywalker boy aside from his flawless grades.
As soon as they landed, Luke bounced off his seat, clearly eager to join his Academy friends.
“Luke,” Vader rumbled. “Wait.”
“What is it, Father?” Luke asked. There was a distinct hint of impatience to his tone. “I can’t be late for the ceremony.”
It pleased Vader how willingly Luke had accepted the familial connection between them, almost as if, deep down, he’d always known the truth. Luke trusted easily, dangerously so, but for now, his naivety served a purpose. His compassionate, loving nature remained a far too useful tool for Vader to not use it, as setting his plans to motion would require Luke’s absolute trust.
But there was something more to it. Something that confused Vader and set him at unease; something he shouldn’t have been so eager to latch onto, but what he couldn’t simply dismiss as mere sentimental nonsense, either.
Father.
Try as he might, he couldn’t quite deny the spark of warmth ignited inside him by such a simple word.
He dragged a heavy breath through his mask. “There is still time.”
The way Luke’s shoulders twitched as he approached him didn’t escape Vader’s notice. The boy barely managed to stand still as Vader dusted off his shoulders and straightened the collars of his freshly starched uniform.
A slight flush rose to Luke’s cheeks. “Father, please,” he complained. “After tonight, I’m no longer a cadet, and I haven’t been a child in a long time. You don’t have to coddle me, alright? My friends from the Academy—“
“—are not here.” Vader finished his sentence for him. “Do not resist, son.”
He could sense that the boy harbored pride in his heart but lacked a certain self-confidence. This was no issue. As eager to prove himself and find his place in the galaxy as any young man, Luke’s eventual journey to the Dark Side should go smoothly.
Vader might not have been there to see his son’s first steps. He might not have been there to fulfill Anakin Skywalker’s long-lost dream of lifting his small child into a cockpit of a starfighter and teach him the purpose of each switch and light and button on the targeting computer. But he was there now, and he’d be the one to guide his son on his path to discover the ways of the Dark Side of the Force and help him to unlock his untapped potential.
Luke’s presence already burned brighter than any star in the universe. Soon, he’d be ready to begin the journey. It was only a matter of time now. And not today, perhaps not even tomorrow, but one day they’d take down the false Emperor and rule the galaxy together as father and son.
He laid his black-clad hand on Luke’s shoulder and gave him a tight, possessive squeeze. “Now you look proper.”
A gentle smile tugged at the corners of Luke’s mouth. His mother’s smile. “Thank you, Father,” he said. Hesitantly, he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Vader. “For coming with me. I’ll make you proud. You’ll see.”
Unaccustomed to such displays of affection, Vader flinched. Then, he clumsily caressed Luke’s neatly combed hair, careful not to tousle it. You already have, he could have told him, never doubt that, my son.
But instead, he urged, “Cease this immediately. Have you already forgotten everything I told you?”
As soon as they’d get off the shuttle, there would be no reason for a Dark Lord of the Sith and a mere Academy graduate to associate with each other. Vader wasn’t unaware of his reputation, and he knew that if they were to be seen together in public, people would start talking. Luke’s spotless record would be tarnished and his accomplishments diminished by idle gossip, and Vader wasn’t going to have it.
“Relax, Father.” Luke made a flippant gesture. “There’s no one here to see us. You don’t have to be afraid.”
“I am not afraid,” Vader said sternly. He didn’t expect Luke to understand the imperative need for secrecy, and yet the boy’s nonchalance irritated him. “And from this moment on, you shall address me as Lord Vader.”
Luke’s bright blue eyes flashed with white-hot defiance. Yet he nodded. “As you wish, Lord Vader.”
There was a slight, nearly unperceivable edge to Luke’s tone that pleased Vader a great deal. His insistence on denying their familial bond in public clearly hurt the boy’s feelings. His hurt was inevitable, but it might turn out to be useful, too. To achieve his means, Vader needed Luke at his strongest. He needed the boy to not blindly follow his lead but to challenge it, test its limits and make them both stronger in the process. He had to be harsh and unrelenting with the boy, or they’d never make it. One day, Luke would understand.
Luke didn’t know it yet, but Vader wasn’t going to let his son waste away in meaningless battles over the dominance of some remote systems in the Outer Rim. As soon as it’d be convenient, he’d have the boy transferred to the Devastator, where it’d be easier to keep an eye on him, as well as begin his training.
“Go now, Cadet Skywalker,” Vader said. “Enjoy the evening, if you wish, but keep your eyes open.”
Luke snapped in salute. “Yes, Lord Vader.”
Later in the evening, Vader stood silently by the Emperor’s side on the podium, as was expected of him, but instead of staying vigilant for any signs of threats to the Emperor’s life, his attention was fixed solely on Luke. Even though he couldn’t see his son among the hundreds and hundreds of guests, he could sense his presence. Luke was somewhere out there among them, sharing drinks and having a hearty laugh with his fellow ensigns.
The other ensigns knew Luke was the brightest star in the Imperial sky. Vader could sense their envy and resentment thick and heavy in the Force. They all toasted and cheered with him, and yet none of them would shed tears if his TIE fighter were to malfunction in mid-air and fall from the sky. Some of them were already figuring ways to cause such a deadly accident without risking getting caught.
Vader’s hands clenched into fists on his sides. Had he not arranged that Luke would soon be several parsecs away from such despicable company, he’d have every last of them executed for treason.
Emperor Palpatine leisurely tapped his bony fingers against the armrest of his throne. “You are tense tonight,” he murmured with a certain glee in his voice. “Am I to take that you aren’t enjoying the evening, Lord Vader? Am I to take that you’re not entertained?”
Reluctantly, Vader lifted his head and glanced at the far side of the ballroom where hauntingly familiar-looking young ladies were dancing in traditional Naboo gowns. Vader had no doubt that the Emperor had personally arranged such a harrowing display to torment him; to remind him of his place and purpose. It’d been years, and yet his Master never missed an opportunity to remind him of the cost of his failure on Mustafar.
“Not particularly, my Master.”
The Emperor sank deeper into the depths of his throne. “Something is troubling you, my friend.” There was feigned concern in his voice. “Speak your mind.”
Vader knew there was no lying to the Emperor. “I believe this celebration is ill-timed.” He figured he might as well share one of his genuine concerns. “It cannot be wise to allow the Rebel Alliance to turn our inaction into their advantage, my Master.”
The Emperor let out a dark chuckle. “I assure you their feeble insurgency will be crushed in no time,” he drawled. “Perhaps sooner than you might have anticipated, my friend. Before you and young Skywalker arrived, I was pleased to learn that our good friend Tarkin has captured the Princess of Alderaan. She knows more than she lets on. Unfortunately, Tarkin’s interrogation methods have turned out to be… ineffective. Perhaps you might be better suited for the task?”
Vader could already tell where this was going. “If she knows the location of the Rebel base, she will reveal it to me, my Master.” There was a grim note to his voice.
“Good, good…” the Emperor mused, then dismissed Vader with a flick of his wrist.
Vader turned around and strode off the podium, his long black cape billowing behind him. Once he reached the stairs, he made a nearly imperceptible gesture with his gloved hand.
At the same time on the far side of the ballroom, Luke’s dainty glass of Daruvvian champagne shattered in his hand, spilling its contents all over his uniform and the table. “Oh no,” he groaned, earning an offended beep from a passing waiter droid who rolled over to clean up the mess.
“Will you look at that,” one of his fellow newly-promoted ensigns laughed. “Skywalker’s drunk at the Emperor’s fancy party.”
“I’m not drunk,” Luke protested but joined the laughter all the same. How could he possibly be drunk? He’d barely touched his glass all night. With an embarrassed grin, he rose from his seat. “I suppose I’ll go get myself cleaned up.”
He left the ballroom to look for a refresher but didn’t get far before Vader emerged from the shadows of the dimly lit antechamber, grabbed his arm and yanked him toward the front doors. “Father?” He completely forgot that he wasn’t supposed to refer to Vader that way. “What’s going on? What are you do—?”
“We are leaving,” Vader announced. His voice carried no emotion. “Come.”
With strength and determination that surprised even himself, Luke writhed himself free from his father’s iron grasp. “But I don’t want to leave just yet,” he protested. “I’m having such a good time. Can’t we stay for a bit longer?”
After enduring the Emperor deriving such pleasure from his misery for an entire evening, Vader’s patience was already growing thin. “You are gravely mistaken if you think this is negotiable,” he rumbled, pointing his gloved finger at Luke.
“But Father—”
“You claim you are no longer a child, yet you act like one,” Vader scolded him. “Do as I say.”
Luke folded his arms. “I’m not going anywhere before you tell me why we’re in such a hurry.”
“You will know soon enough,” Vader said. “If you only understood your importance—”
“You keep telling me that.” Suddenly, Luke’s heart was racing. Never before had he dared to talk back at his father like that. “But you never tell me why. You never tell me anything. You—you don’t even let me see your face. I trusted you, Father. Why can’t you trust me in return?”
Vader dragged a heavy, sigh-like breath through his respirator. Instead of petulant defiance, Luke’s voice was now riddled with longing and sadness. It made Vader uncomfortable. He’d chosen not to show his ruined face to Luke because he acknowledged the pain the sight would bring to the boy. As harsh and demanding he could be, causing his son more pain than he already had was the last thing he wanted.
And yet he lacked the intricate skill to put that sentiment into words. The ability to show affection of any kind was something he considered lost with everything else that had once distinguished Anakin Skywalker from the miserable husk of a human being he was now.
“This is not a discussion we should be having here, of all places, my son,” he said. “In time, I will tell you everything.”
“But when will that be?”
During his time with Vader, Luke had learned enough to know that he was pushing the limits of his father’s patience. Yet he yearned to learn more about him and the family that had been lost. Ever since his father had found him, he’d refused to entertain his curiosity. Instead, Vader was often cold and distant and remarkably difficult to get along with save for those precious moments he almost seemed to forget to play the part that had been bestowed on him by fate.
Those moments kept Luke hanging on.
“Not now,” Vader replied. “Not here.”
Luke sighed. “I’ll come with you, but first, I must know…” His voice trailed off. “Do you care, Father? About… me?”
“Yes.”
Luke hesitated. “And if I turned to be… not that important,” he choked up. The words were harder to come by than he’d imagined. “Not that useful, after all. Would you still care about me?”
Vader, too, struggled to find the right words. In fact, he doubted such words even existed in any known language. He had no trouble with inspiring fear in his enemies and allies alike, but this—this was different. How could he possibly explain to Luke how much he cared for him? Or how immensely important he was for the sole reason that he existed? Or that he only demanded so much from him because he couldn’t bear the thought of losing him?
Admitting such things out loud would have required him to admit that fragments of the man who had once loved so fiercely that it had cost him everything still existed within him.
The silence between them stretched and stretched. Luke lowered his gaze, barely able to keep his shoulders trembling from sheer disappointment.
“Luke,” Vader finally managed. “You are everything to me.”
That was the best he could do. There was no describing of the warmth learning he had a living, breathing son had ignited inside him.
Luke glanced up at him. “You… mean that?” he asked. “You really do?”
It was Vader’s turn to fold his arms. “Do not make me repeat myself.”
Luke shrugged. Traces of a swallowed grin wrinkled the corners of his mouth. “It was worth trying, I suppose.”
Vader groaned. There was no living with this boy.
“Come now,” he said, laying his hand on Luke’s shoulder and guiding him toward the hangar in a clumsy attempt of fatherly tenderness. “We have wasted enough time here.”
“Where will we be going?”
“To the Mustafar system,” Vader replied. Perhaps it’d be time to begin Luke’s training. “But not directly. Grand Moff Tarkin has requested my assistance. There is a certain Rebel princess that must be dealt with.”
Luke threw a sideway glance at Vader as they strode through the empty hallways. “A princess?” he repeated. “I’ve never met a princess.”
“You would be wise to not concern yourself with her,” Vader warned. “Princess Leia Organa a known rebel and a traitor.”
Knowing better than to probe further, Luke fell silent and followed Vader back to the shuttle. Yet his thoughts lingered with the mysterious princess with such a beautiful name. As he took the co-pilot’s seat and punched in the coordinates of the rendezvous point Vader recited to him, he couldn’t stop wondering who this Leia Organa was and what she’d done to earn his father’s ire. It had to be something very, very daring, that much was for sure.
He glanced at Vader, weighing his options and ultimately deciding that asking him wouldn’t be worth the effort.
“Go, my son,” Vader said, almost as if he’d read his mind. “Have some sleep. Empty your mind of needless clutter.”
Luke yawned. It’d been a long night. “Good night, Father.”
But instead of falling peacefully asleep in his bunk, he found himself tossing and turning throughout the night. He couldn't help but wonder whether he might be able to see the Rebel princess with his own eyes aboard the Grand Moff’s Star Destroyer. He’d wandered around his father’s flagship often enough to know where to find the detention block. Perhaps he might be able to sneak down there, just to catch a glimpse? It couldn’t hurt, could it?
His father wouldn’t like it.
But perhaps he wouldn't have to know.