Chapter Text
Things were going really, really well Luke thought. He now believes he jinxed himself.
Finding the two droids on Tatooine had probably been the final seal of his fate. A medium sized blue and white droid zooming up to him with a ‘WEEEEEEE HOOOO’ and almost crashing straight into Luke’s legs while he was on his way to Toshi Station should’ve probably been the first sign to go back home and take a well deserved nap, but nothing ever actually happened on Tatooine and he was more than a little intrigued. The humanoid gold one had introduced himself as C-3PO, and his companion as R2-D2.
Artoo (with direct translations from Threepio) had said he had strict instructions to find ‘Skywalker’ from Princess Leia Organa (a princess! Wanted to find him!). Whispers of his father, promises of glory and truth had come from her and the droids. Artoo had said he was the property of Skywalker, his father, and that he now belonged to Luke. That had been quite the shock to say the least, the random droid he found in the desert had belonged to his father. It had seemed like such a coincidence.
The next few hours had passed in a blur. Apparently, his father had been a Jedi Knight, a hero, the best of the Jedi. Artoo had actually let out a diligent scoff (or at least close enough to a scoff that a droid could possibly make) when Luke had told them that his father had been a spice freighter pilot. Everything had honestly been going great up until that very point.
He, Artoo, and Threepio had been making their way toward his childhood home, trudging through the sand as sweat dripped down Luke’s neck. While Artoo has seemed very insistent on getting off the planet as soon as possible, Luke has wanted to talk to his Aunt and Uncle first. He had so many questions. Had they known about his father? Had they lied to him? He needed to say goodbye. He didn’t even know if he would be allowed to go. Did he even want to?
And that’s when he saw their bodies, if you could even call them that, they were mostly just charred skeletons.
Dead. They were. They were dead.
They were gone.
Luke hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye. He had argued with them for force’s sake! He was mad they weren’t letting him go to the Imperial academy! He had stormed off and everything.
All of that seemed like a lifetime ago.
He’d buried them, with his own two hands, and then he departed. He had nothing, absolutely nothing. His family- they were all dead. His mother, father, aunt and uncle. All he had were two droids he had met just a few hours earlier, and even then they had had to stay outside of the cantina, leaving him alone. He was good to god, truly alone now, and that terrified him.
At least Han had been nice enough to him. Sure, he had only been in it for the money (at the time! He was pretty sure Han and Chewie actually liked him now!) and he had had to sell his speeder and even then he had to promise that Princess Leia would pay him 10,000 credits when they saved her, but it had all been worth it to get far, far away from the death that reeked from Tatooine.
He learned all about his father. Anakin Skywalker, a Jedi knight, who had fought in the clone wars. He had been a strong pilot, and an even stronger warrior.
There were whispers, here and there, of how he had died. He had been murdered, stabbed in the back by Darth Kaelhm, his very own master.
Walking the halls of the rebellion base grew more and more unbearable as more and more rumours started swirling up, different ways that monster had killed his father.
“Some say Kaelhm killed him in his sleep” Han had told him, just a few whiles away on the Millennium Falcon. “That his pupil had grown too strong for him to beat, so he took the cowards route and ended his life in the safety of Anakin’s trust in ‘im. Others say they had this massive battle,” Han threw his hands to the ceiling, as though he was reciting some ancient war story. “And Kaelhm stabbed Skywalker in the back”.
Throughout all of Han’s tales, Luke couldn’t even try and bring himself to turn away, his mind repulsed and yet so intrigued. He had to know. He didn’t think he could live without knowing. “But what really happened?” Luke whispered, arms withdrawn and wrapped around himself, eyes downcast yet wide, lips drawn together in a grimace. “How did he die?” He finally managed to choke out.
Han shrugged, either completely oblivious or completely uncaring of Luke’s struggle. “No idea,” He turned back around to his controls, hands grasping at the wheel. “Nobody actually knows what happened, The only person who could know exactly what happened would be Kaelhm.”
Luke...Luke felt himself harden, felt anger rushing and rising through him in ways that scared even himself. Felt the feeling that had stayed and been with him forever the only thing that hadn’t left whispering in his ear, but he couldn’t make it out. It was drowned out by his anger, his hatred for the man named Darth Kaelhm.
He decided, there on the Falcon, that he was going to avenge his father.
He told only Artoo about this, and the little droid almost immediately started beeping in a sick sense of joy. A compartment in the dome of the top of his head opening up to reveal a lightsaber (a real one! A real lightsaber used by the Jedi! His fathers lightsaber!) and tossing it toward his young charge.
Luke leaned forwards, reaching out and grabbing it, letting his hands curl around the hilt-
Painangersadnessgrieflossbetrayal-
Luke let out a little gasp of alarm, eyes widened a fraction as he let go of the saber, letting it fall to the ground with a small crash. Artoo let out a few little beeps in concern, stuttering around as Luke grasped at his head, a headache already making its way through his body.
He had been…hesitant to pick up the blade of light again, but the feeling never came back, and soon Luke was teaching himself how to fight. Fight one specific person, actually. He was going to use his father’s lightsaber to kill Kaelhm, preferably by stabbing him in the back but that part was completely optional.
He hadn’t actually created a plan, or thought up the logistics for how he was going to kill the emperor's right hand, but it was the thought that counted right?
And that’s how he got here, on the Death Star, face to face with Darth Kaelhm.
At least they had found the princess. Sure, his life had been the cost, but as long as Leia made it out safe then it would be fine.
“Gosh darn it, move!” Han yelled, shoving his shoulder into a stormtrooper and shooting them in the chest. Chewbacca let out an earth shattering roar, charging through at least 5 of them. “Hold on kid! We’re coming!”
They wouldn’t make it. Luke knew this. Han knew this, and Kaelhm knew this. The Sith Lord had it out for Luke, he was certain of it. Perhaps he wanted to finish him off, end the Skywalker bloodline once and for all. He wasn’t going to let Luke escape, and that was okay. As long as Han and Leia got away, he was content with what was coming, what he couldn’t stop. The sith was going to spill his blood tonight, but hopefully Luke would also spill his.
Standing at the other end of the hallway, the man who had killed his father sneered at him, lip curling at the sight of the blond haired child feasibly holding his lightsaber in front of him. His stance was all wrong, his shields non-existent. A small part of him, a part of him that had died years ago on the same day the republic fell, wanted to reach, correct the boy’s stance and help him build his shields and teach him all about the force. A small part of him that was still a Jedi master at heart wanted to pull that boy into his arms and promise to keep him safe, help him meditate just like he had tried to help a different, blond haired blue eyed boy…
Kaelhm harshly shoved those thoughts away. Not right now…
Just like him the boy practically radiated light into the force. He wasn’t- as bright, but brighter than normal, brighter than the average force user. The fact that the empire hadn’t noticed him earlier was concerning, a strong force sensitive wasn’t somebody they wanted under their control.
That mattered not, now. The boy would die, as that was his fate.
(He tried to ignore the way the force screamed, telling him he was making a mistake, that he was doing it all over again-)
Luke lifted his lightsaber in front of him, hand wobbly as Kaelhm approached. The sith scoffed, disapproval written over his face as he looked over the blond haired boy. His eyes were steely as he ignited his own deep, red lightsaber. “You hold that weapon like a baby bantha who’s just been born. You have no right to that civilized blade you wield-“
Luke blinked, eyes creasing in confusion at the sudden stop of the Sith Lord's words. He looked up, finally bringing himself to look at the Emperor’s fist for the first time.
He had auburn hair, sideburns leading down to a relatively trimmed beard. Said sideburns were laced with grey hairs, announcing his age along with the wrinkles that had made their way into his face. His eyes were golden, cold and harsh and terrifying.
But that wasn’t the truly scary part.
The room dropped noticeably in temperature.
“Where,” Kaelhm hissed, dark yellow eyes piercing Luke’s blue ones as the hallway turned icy cold, matching a sort of hell that had frozen over, perfectly replicating the passive fury that rolled off the man in deep, suffocating waves.
“Did you get that lightsaber?”
Luke gulped, and then, with more strength than he thought he was capable of, he straightened his knees and brought himself up to his full height.
...huh, Kaelhm wasn’t actually that tall compared to him. Sure he was taller, but then again everybody was.
“It was my fathers,” Luke hissed out, eyes cold with righteousness and fury. He completely missed the way Kaelhm stilled, eyes going white as his face pales ever so slightly. “Do you remember him, Darth? He was your padawan- the one you murdered, or did you care so little about him that you forgot?”
Kaelhm stuttered, the once biting cold turning almost freezing and still in temperature. He slowly raised a hand, lightsaber one laying limply at his side. He pointed at Luke, “You...You’re…”
He trailed off, and Luke tilted his head so that it was like he was staring down Kaelhm. “Yes. My name is Luke. Luke Skywalker.” He had no idea why he wasn’t dead yet, but he was obviously doing something right seeing as he was currently breathing.
“You’re lying,” he whispered, not to Luke, rather he spoke to someone who wasn’t there. “You have to be. There’s no way.”
The force thrummed with the truth, and suddenly Kaelhm whipped his head towards him, eyes wide and crazed and with an almost maniac look to him. He stumbled forward, and Luke took a cautious step back.
“You are,” the Sith Lord whispered, his voice tainted with awe and disbelief. “You’re his son”
And then a bullet hit his shoulder.
Kaelhm let out a groan of pain as he fell down towards the wall, clutching at his arm. A whoop from Han gave Luke all the answers he needed.
Without wasting another second, Luke dashed out of the room, the grey doors hissing shut behind him. The way the room grew cold again and the furious yell of rage from behind the door told Luke that that wouldn’t last long.
“Go!” Somebody was shouting. It took Luke a moment to realize that it was him. “Get into the ship! Go go go!”
The door that had just shut closed on the murderous Sith Lord was beginning to crumble, the force insistently banging against it, creating cracks against it. Chewie was being pushed in by Leia, and less then a few moments later they were in the air, just in time for the door to burst open. Kaelhm yanked out a hand, fist clenching.
“He’s trying to pull the ship down!” Leia yelled over the engines. “Quickly! Go into hyperspace!”
Han didn’t have to be to twice, and a few moments later they were flying through hyperspace, Kaelhm long behind them, his anger long behind them.
That was far more than enough adventure for Luke, he decided as he released a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, sinking low into his chair. He was done, at least for now.
And then he blew up the Death Star.
It was like he hated himself, honestly.