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The caves under the palace of Theed lay at the base of the waterfall, and Vader could barely see for a spray as their bongo submarine surfaced in the lake at the bottom. Sola Naberrie, her face pinched and anxious, stared up at the cliff and gritted her teeth.
"What are you waiting for?" she demanded. "Are you going to help me rescue my nephew or what?"
"Mom—" Pooja warned from the back seat. That one was savvier it seemed. She was also the only Naberrie other than Padmé and Luke trained with a blaster, or the only one who knew how the cave-system-turned-underground-tunnels worked, so she was necessary on this trip. Sola, not quite.
"He is my son," Vader reminded her harshly as the Force sparked and told him where to guide his pod. They ran aground on the tidal cavern and popped the top off, instantly soaked in spray. "You are the one helping me."
Their sniping continued for hours, through the caverns, as they climbed up and up, until they came into the manmade tunnels. It was easier to walk there—more breath for bickering.
"If he's your son, why did you change your name and abandon him, Anakin?" Sola spat, climbing out of the pod. Pooja followed more stately, and lifted her glowrod to see farther into the caverns. "Why was Padmé's child an orphan?"
"Because of the Jedi—"
"—and your cowardice," she finished, unimpressed. Vader, for all his fury, couldn't deny her her loathing. He loathed himself tenfold. "And now you hesitate?"
"If you believe I am at all hesitant in rescuing my son from Palpatine's clutches…"
Pooja said, "Quiet."
Angry though he still was, he was wise enough to silence himself. The skittering noise she'd heard echoed farther into the caverns, then faded away. They all relaxed.
"Luke should be alright," Pooja said before they could have at it again. "King Amidala is the most popular ruler since Aunt Padmé herself—especially because he seems to be opposing Imperial occupation in the residential districts. If anything happened to him, Palpatine would have a riot on his hands on his own capital."
"That would require Luke to be dead or severely incapacitated in a way a common person could understand. While you may fear death for your nephew, Naberries, I understand the Force. Luke could be experiencing something far worse."
He should have known, when he'd launched his coup and sparked a galactic civil war, that Palpatine would have potential candidates for a new apprentice lined up. He had known that—he'd anticipated that it would be one of the Inquisitors who he picked.
But when Vader had retaken Coruscant, and considered that tantamount to victory, Palpatine had pulled his last card. Moving the Imperial capital to Naboo, and thus forcing Vader to think about the planet that held so many memories.
And thus forcing Vader to realise that Naboo was ruled by another monarch named Amidala, this one a king.
One that Palpatine's final, taunting message to him had heavily indicated was Force-sensitive…
"Like what?" Sola, irritating though she was, clearly loved her nephew greatly—enough to summon him for help, when her worry had grown into a living, clawing thing, and King Amidala had not been seen in public for weeks. She was deathly pale.
"Becoming the Emperor's apprentice," Vader said. "That is what Palpatine will want from him. It is a miserable experience." And, considering the nature of the dark side… "Possibly an irreversible one."
"I suppose you would know."
"Mother!"
Vader met her gaze. "I would know," he agreed. "And I will die before that fate is bestowed upon my son."
"Don't worry," said a voice, and there was the hungry roar of a lightsaber, "that might just happen."
The women froze. The figure who'd come to meet them was dressed all in black, their voice modulated and mocking. This was an Inquisitor. But they were alone.
Which meant they were possibly the last one, as Palpatine had already started purging them when Vader was still his loyal apprentice—when Luke had first been elected. The last one, but—
"Lord Vader, crawling through the tunnels to save one teenage king," they mocked. Then, before he could do anything, they activated their comlink. "Vader and two companions sighted in tunnels under the Palace, read my coordinates—"
He lunged, slashing through their torso before they could blink, but he still heard the sinister order. "Bring them to the throne room."
"We need to go," Pooja muttered, eyes on the tunnels ahead, looking like she was mentally mapping where to run next to get to her cousin. "We need to—"
But troopers and even Naboo Security Guard were surrounding them now, enough to crowd the tunnels with corpses. And while Vader could have killed them all with a wave of his hand… they wanted to take him to the throne room.
So he would let them take him to the throne room.
He had expected it to be Palpatine in the throne when he was forced in at blasterpoint by stormtroopers he used to serve. It was not.
It was his son.
Luke was as small as Padmé had been at that age; even more so, as he'd mastered the art of seeming less important than he was. Even foisted onto a stage, dolled up in royal regalia and seated on a high throne, he was easy to dismiss. A doll. A puppet.
That was how the handmaidens had always worked; he supposed it could work for a king. Even if it made his chest ache.
He couldn't tell if Luke's cheeks were dead white at seeing his aunt and cousin captured or if it was just the heavy makeup. Any extreme expressions he might have had were smoothed by it as he stood, walked down the steps and came up to them, where they had been forced to their knees.
"Leave," he told the stormtroopers. He twitched his hand in a signal that meant the Naboo Security Forces should stay.
The stormtrooper captain seemed to take offence at that. "Your Majesty—"
"As long as Palpatine is off-world, I command you. Is that not correct?" The holos Sola had deigned to show Vader of the little boy she'd raised betrayed an expressive, happy child. That child was gone—wiped away by politics or, more likely, Palpatine. "Leave."
They left. Their thoughts were loud about what they thought of Naboo, its king, its people—how they longed for Coruscant and not this shallow culture of couture. Vader clenched his fists and even Luke cocked his head, as if he could hear them too.
"And captain," he called. When the man paused, Luke jabbed, "Do drop by a clothes shop at one point and buy some appropriate off-duty wear for yourself and your men. You appear so drab, it is clear you don't belong in a place as sophisticated as this."
Pooja laughed a bit at that, and something in Vader's chest eased. It was a cruel jab, a petty one—but it was fighting back. It was making a joke. Perhaps his son still had the chance to…
His gaze snapped back to Vader's and the hope died. It was a cold gaze—and glimmered with gold, if his fears were correct.
"You have a great deal of faith in your Naboo guards to send away two thirds of my prisoner escort, Your Majesty," Vader observed.
"I know you could have killed them all, Lord Vader, so I don't see what difference it makes. I prefer to be around people I can trust, at least."
"And you cannot trust stormtroopers?"
Luke didn't deign to respond to that. "Why are you here?" He addressed it to his aunt and cousin, a softer tone to his voice. His gaze cradled their bound hands, and the binders sprang open without a touch.
Vader went cold.
Sola didn't look too pleased, either. "We came to get you out," she hissed. "I'm not losing another family member to that monster."
"And I am not abandoning the people of Naboo to occupation without representation," Luke countered.
"Palpatine dissolved the Senate!" Pooja objected, standing up. None of the guards stopped her—they knew her, after all. She was no threat. "He doesn't believe in representation at all!"
"But I do. And as long as he uses Naboo, he has to compromise somewhat."
"And what about you, Luke?" Sola pressed. "What do you have to compromise?"
The great hairstyles Naboo used in lieu of a crown looked very, very heavy now. Luke bowed his head.
"Myself," he said. "I will be his apprentice, and Naboo's people will be safe for as long as he occupies us."
So it was true. Luke had already fallen.
And he had done it willingly—to protect his people, using himself as a shield.
"And how long will that be?" Pooja was the politician, she was searching for the deal Luke had made, his reasoning behind it.
"Not much longer, I anticipated. Since Vader had taken Coruscant, Palpatine had very few advantages left. So long as I was his apprentice, he would not hurt us in the time before he was obliterated."
"He had one advantage left," Vader pointed out. "You."
"Me?"
"You are my son!" The coldly clinical words felt wrong, felt horrible. He wanted to see some emotion crack through, instead of stoicism.
"I was promptly made aware of that." And from the way his face twitched, Vader got the impression that it had been painful. Perhaps he had suffered for his father's sins, from the moment the Empire had come knocking.
"Then you know why I had to rescue you."
"You certainly never came for me before."
"I did not know about you before," Vader snapped. "Now I know, and I am here to rescue you. Being Palpatine's apprentice is miserable, I know that first-hand, and you have to suffer it no longer."
Luke… took a step back. Seemed to have to regain his composure, though Vader had not seen it break.
"Then it is a shame that he's on his way here now," he said regretfully. "I informed him of it the moment I received the alert."
"Then this confrontation is a test for you."
"I know."
"The sort of test he will pile on you for as long as he lives."
"I know. As long as it spares Naboo, I will deal with it."
"You do not have to."
Luke shook his head. "I didn't, not forever, so long as I could count on you to win the war." He looked around. "But that seems less likely, now you're in this situation. You've jeopardised everything."
"Not everything," Vader promised. "Does he travel with red guards?"
"Yes."
"Do you know how many ships he has at his command?"
"Yes."
"If I told you that I have ships standing by just outside orbit ready to strike on my command," Vader said, "would you help me fight him?"
Luke hesitated.
He looked at the Naberries. He looked at his guards. Whatever he saw, it bolstered him. "Yes."
"Then release me."
Luke did. Another unnerving flick of the wrist, without touching the binders. He seemed uncomfortable in his own movements himself.
When Vader stood, he towered over his son. He was so small. So small, so strong, but so, so afraid.
"I came here to protect you, Luke," he promised. "I'm going to win this war for you too."
Luke said, very quietly, "Please." And that was all the motivation he needed before Palpatine's ship landed outside.