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DIN DJARIN
The heavy chains rattled loudly as Din was pushed and shoved along the dark hallway. Storm troopers surrounded him, and they gave no sign that they cared about the fact that he was limping very heavily. His right thigh was in agony, but he was determined not to make a sound. He didn’t know how much trouble he was in yet, and until he did, he couldn’t afford to show any other signs of weakness.
They turned a corner in the hall, and Din looked to his left, where floor-to-ceiling windows looked out onto the planet. He was awed. The windows looked out onto rivers of lava, crisscrossing and flowing into each other among ashy hills and a dark, foreboding skyline. It was the picture of power and intimidation, and Din couldn’t suppress his shudder. He could almost feel the troopers smirking on either side of him.
“Mustafar,” one of them said casually. Then they dragged him away from the window, further along the hallway.
They came to a set of stone doors, heavy and black with platinum rings in place of doorknobs, ancient in design and with an aura of power that continued to strike fear into Din’s heart, although he was glad he had his helmet to protect his expression from the troopers. Two men in red capes and helms were waiting, their hands on the platinum rings, and at a wave from the leader of his procession, they pulled the doors open with a loud rumble.
They were in a throne room with high-vaulted ceilings of black stone. Pillars of black granite lined a walkway to the other side of the room, where a carved throne sat on a dais. Sitting on the throne was a droid made of black durasteel, a black silk cape tossed carelessly to the side. The droid was broad and tall, easily head and shoulders above Din, and a young man stood to its right side.
LUKE SKYWALKER
Luke watched as the Red Guard brought in the prisoner. He was a Mandalorian bounty hunter, armored in Beskar from head to foot, and thick chains kept his arms behind his back. He limped heavily as he came into the room, favoring his right leg. Even with the helmet on, Luke could tell the prisoner was afraid; he could feel his fear and uncertainty heavily in the Force, and he could see how the man’s shoulders trembled just barely. Luke’s heart gave a pang of sympathy, but he quickly corrected himself; he was a Sith lord. Kindness and compassion were not suitable for Darth Carcerous. He had to be ruthless, aggressive, and strong, like his father and master. Kindness was a weakness they could not afford, no matter how much it pained him to see the noble Mandalorian stumble to his knees before his father’s throne.
“Who are you,” his father asked, addressing the Mandalorian, “that would try to assassinate the Emperor of the Galaxy?”
Luke felt the fear in the prisoner grow. “The Emperor?” the man repeated, drawing back slightly. “I…I thought that Palpatine was the emperor?”
“Sheev Palpatine is no longer the emperor,” His father replied easily. “Tell me, is it customary for Mandalorians to blunder into perilous situations, or are you especially inept among your peers?”
The Mandalorian remained silent, knowing that Darth Vader didn’t expect an answer, that he was simply playing with his prey.
“Might I ask why you decided to assassinate one of the most powerful men in the galaxy?”
The Mandalorian hesitated. “I’m a bounty hunter,” he finally answered. “I didn’t know anything about the target. I was given a tracker that told me where to find them. I was offered a lot of money for the job.”
“Was the chance at some money worth your life to you?” Vader asked, reclining slightly in his seat. Without waiting for an answer, he waved a hand for one of the guards to proceed with the execution. The guard took out a blaster and started to take off the Mandalorian’s helmet to access his temples.
Luke tried to close his eyes; he had never enjoyed witnessing the executions of others, even if they were traitors and assassins. At the last minute, before his eyes shut, he watched the Mandalorian’s helmet. He could feel the fear, the regret, and the horror that always came from his father’s victims just before their life was snuffed out, but he could also feel a wave of shame engulfing the poor man, as though he thought himself a disgrace.
He couldn’t interfere. He couldn’t.
“Wait!”
The guard stilled his hand on the bounty hunter’s helm, watching the prince with surprise.
“Wait?” Vader repeated, turning on his throne to look at Luke. “For what?”
Luke knew better than to use the word ‘please’...if there was one thing his father couldn’t stand, it was begging. “We…we shouldn’t kill him,” Luke finally stammered. “Not yet.”
Vader straightened up, and his voice was clipped and short when he spoke. “Might I ask my son, my apprentice, why you wish to spare the life of this would-be assassin?”
Luke knew he was treading in dangerous waters; his father was not known for mercy or patience, not even to Luke. He had to think of something quickly, or it wouldn’t only be the Mandalorian in deep trouble.
“He said someone hired him,” Luke began, hoping he was on the right path; he could sense his father’s patience thinning and tried not to sweat as he faced him. “He could tell us who was behind the assassination plot. Surely that’s valuable enough information to keep him alive a little longer?”
Vader was silent for a long time, and Luke could almost watch the gears in his head turning. At last, he turned to face the bounty hunter again.
“Who hired you?” he asked.
The Mandalorian shrugged, and Luke cursed him in his head; he was trying to save this man’s life, and he reacted by being useless.
“I don’t know,” the prisoner answered, “I never got a name.”
“You don’t know what they looked like? You don’t know anything about them that might be useful?” Vader answered in an almost bored voice. The Mandalorian shook his head.
“Father,” Luke interjected before the Mandalorian could get himself killed. “Give him time; he might remember something later, after some reflection."
Vader again watched Luke, and Luke knew that his father could sense in him a feeling of mercy, a distaste for watching another die, things that his father had been trying to drill out of him since before he could remember, but he held his ground. Even if the Mandalorian was being deliberately stupid, Luke knew his logic would make sense to his father. He simply had to wait out the uncomfortable silence.
“Take the prisoner to the dungeons,” Vader said at last. “If, after two weeks, I have heard nothing useful from him, he will die.” He said the final sentence directly to Luke, promising what was to come. “And you, my son, will be his caretaker. You will see that he is kept alive, and you shall be responsible for drawing that information out of him.”
Luke gritted his teeth but nodded in obedience. It was his punishment for daring to defy his father, he knew, and he knew he should be glad that he had saved the life of the Mandalorian, but all he could think was how unfair the situation was. He suspected that two weeks would yield no more fruitful response than tonight had, but now if the Mandalorian refused to talk, Vader would punish Luke for failing to interrogate him successfully. Luke had never been one for torture or force, and Vader knew that. He was trying to teach his son how to be a better Sith. Luke understood this, but it didn’t make the lessons less difficult. He sighed as the Mandalorian was hauled to his feet and led away. This was going to be a long two weeks.
DARTH VADER
Vader silently dismissed his son, and once Darth Carcerous had left, he stood to go to his bedroom. He cursed the aches and the stiffness that came with sitting on his throne for too long, but he had to admit it did make quite the first impression. He had felt the prisoner’s delicious fear turn to almost outright panic as he was forced to kneel before him.
That had always been his favorite part of his duties, even when he was Palpatine’s slave. Every master that had owned him had been the same. He had never been enough or had been too much. Too old, too emotional, not disciplined enough, not worthy of being called a Master himself, too attached. As Anakin Skywalker the child he was considered trouble, his speeder hobby scorned before it was his savior. As Anakin Skywalker the Jedi, he had always been the subject of suspicion and ridicule. As Darth Vader the Sith Lord, he was treated somehow worse, but at least commoners always gave him the utmost respect and even admiration.
If only his son would admire him.
Darth Carcerous was no Jedi, that much was certain; he was far too attached to Vader to be a proper Jedi, and for that, Vader was grateful. But, as connected as he was to his father, he was too kind. He cared so much for other people that it hurt to feel in the force. Since his son was small, Vader had tried to teach him that anger, hate, and aggression were what he needed to fuel his life, but it just didn’t take. Carcerous had too much of his mother in him. Vader sighed; maybe that was a good thing. He missed Padmé terribly and having Luke by his side was a tribute to Padmé's memory.
The price he had paid for his son’s companionship had been terrible, though. It had taken a lot of supplication and begging to persuade Palpatine that Luke could be raised into Darth Carcerous. Palpatine had seen the goodness in Vader’s son early on and had wanted to dispose of him before he could become a threat to the Empire. At first, Palpatine had been a rock, unmoving and deaf to Vader’s pleas, but in the end, he couldn’t resist; he loved the sound of Vader begging, he always had. He had known that Vader would do anything for the life of his son, so he had made him crawl on his hands and knees, ignoring the agony it placed on what remained of his limbs and had made Vader plead with him the way he had that first night, when he had taken the name Darth Vader.
Palpatine had allowed Luke to live only under the condition that he be Vader’s apprentice, that he be raised in the way of the Sith, so that when Vader died, Luke could take his place as the Emperor’s apprentice. He had chosen Darth Carcerous for Luke on Luke’s sixteenth birthday, and for the last two years, they had both served Palpatine admirably.
Palpatine hadn’t counted on Vader’s genuine affection for his son. He loved Darth Carcerous with all his heart, and there was no one more important to him in the galaxy. Certainly not the Emperor. So when the order had come down that there were too many Sith apprentices and that one must be eliminated, Vader balked inside. He could not kill his son just because his master ordered it. He would sooner allow himself to die, but Carcerous had assured him there would be no need.
The plan had been simple but very risky. They had gone before the Emperor at the appointed time, just as he had planned. They both drew out their lightsabers, readying themselves for the fight of their lives.
But when Palpatine had given the word, Darth Carcerous had struck out not at his father but the Emperor himself. The Emperor was far too strong with the Force not to sense a betrayal coming, but he had assumed that the betrayal would come from Vader, the more passionate and the more aggressive of the two. He had not counted on Vader’s kind, compassionate son to fight his nature so hard and had paid for his miscalculation with his life.
Now Vader was the Emperor. Now he had control over the entire Galaxy. They were unstoppable and all-powerful together, but it didn’t seem enough for his son. He still seemed dissatisfied as he always had with Mustafar, with the Force, and even at times with Vader himself. He had lived his entire life under the Sith's teaching, yet he still could not watch the final moments of execution. He had known nothing but anger and hatred towards his enemies, and yet his first instinct was still to protect the vulnerable, never mind why they were powerless in the first place. Carcerous was no Jedi, but Vader knew in his heart that his son was no true Sith either.
Vader shook himself; there was no point to these musings. Palpatine was gone, and he and Carcerous were relatively safe. The Empire was his to shape as he wished, and soon he would take care of his would-be assassin. There was nothing to worry about. The future had never looked brighter.
DIN DJARIN
Din was propped against the dungeon wall, listening to the river of lava rage outside. His thigh was burning, and he was too dizzy to try to move. All he could do was hold himself as he shivered from the fever that the wound had brought on.
He had been down there for hours, with nothing but the river for company. The dungeon was a cell carved from the same volcanic rock that made up the rest of the palace. Chains hung ominously from the ceiling and were bolted to the wall every few feet. Din could only imagine what tortures awaited him here.
When the door finally opened, Din looked up to see the same young man from the throne room entering his cell. He was dressed all in black, his blond hair shone in the light of the dim lamp he carried, and his eyes were a piercing shade of gold. In the hand not holding the lamp, he bore a tray of food. Without a word, he set the tray in front of Din and immediately turned to leave.
“Th-thank you,” Din shivered out.
The young man stopped, turning to face Din. “What?” he asked.
“I…I just s-said thank you,” Din answered, worried he had stepped too far. He knew nothing about the religion of the Sith. Was it an insult to thank someone?
The young man took another step closer. “Your injury has worsened," he said bluntly.
Din nodded. “If…if you have any b-bandages…” he started, cursing the shake in his voice.
The man knelt beside him, looking over his body until he saw the right thigh. A large burn ran from one side to the other, two inches thick and already blistering painfully.
“I saw you limping earlier, but I didn’t realize it was this bad,” the man said. “What happened?”.
“Blaster bolt,” Din said through gritted teeth as the man inspected his painful injury. He was glad again for the helmet, which hid the tears welling up in his eyes. “I wasn’t quick enough. That’s how th-they…” he stopped, willing his voice to be steady, “that’s how they got me. I went down when the bolt hit my thigh and they overpowered me.”
The man placed a hand flat above Din’s thigh, hovering barely an inch from his injury. He closed his eyes, and his face adopted a look of deep concentration.
Almost immediately, Din felt the pain leaving his body, a sensation of cooling relief spreading throughout him from where the burn had been. It was gone in less than a minute, and so was his fever.
“How did you-?” Din started to ask, but his voice failed him as he looked at the piercing golden eyes so close to him he could almost feel the man’s breath, his blond hair falling gently about his face. His breath caught, and he hoped with all his might that the man couldn’t hear him.
“The Force is strong in my family,” he said softly. “Do you know what the Force is?”
Din’s mind flashed to Grogu. He should tell this man no. That would be the intelligent thing to do. “Yes,” he said, trying hard not to make it a whisper. What am I doing? He asked himself. This man was his captor, so why was he getting so lost in those orbs of molten gold that stared back at him as if they’d already guessed the answer to every question he’d ever had? He registered the surprise on the man’s face. “My son had force-sensitivity, but he…” he trailed off, hoping the man wouldn’t press.
The man nodded and dropped his eyes. “You must be hungry,” he said, gesturing to Din’s plate. “You should eat.”
“I will,” Din promised, shifting uncomfortably.
The man nodded once more and stood to leave.
“What’s your name?” Din blurted before he could stop himself.
The man stared.
“I’d like to know to whom I owe my gratitude.”
There was a long pause. “My father calls me Darth Carcerous,” he said at last.
Din heard the poorly-hidden distaste in the man’s voice. “Is that what you want me to call you?” he asked, surprising himself with his boldness.
A small smile lifted a corner of the man’s mouth. “You can call me Luke,” he answered.
“I’m Din, Din Djarin,” Din replied.
Luke nodded. “Nice to meet you.” And then he was gone.
LUKE SKYWALKER
Luke and Din fell into a routine for the next week and a half. Luke would come to bring him his meals, and they would talk, about nothing and everything, until Luke was called away. It didn’t escape his notice that Din never ate in front of him, and after a few days, he decided to ask about it.
“Why is it you always wait until I leave to eat?” he asked, watching as Din ignored his food yet again, even though Luke could feel his hunger pangs through the Force; his father commanded that the Mandalorian be given just enough to survive, but no more than that. Luke managed to sneak him an extra portion of something now and again, but it did little to curb the constant hunger in his new friend.
“I’m…it’s part of my creed,” Din said, as though he were forcing the words out of his mouth; he always did that when Luke asked him a religious question. “It is forbidden for a Mandalorian ever to remove their helmet in front of another person.”
“That must be difficult.”
“It never used to be,” he said, and Luke caught a hint of something behind Din’s words, something that he wanted to ask about but didn’t. He decided to test the waters and leaned slowly in, placing a hand over Din’s.
Din pulled away almost immediately. “Luke, you shouldn’t get too attached to me,” he said in a warning voice.
Luke tried to hide the pain at those words. “Din,” he said, “it’s too late. I’m already attached.”
“You heard your father; I’m a dead man in three days.”
“Only if you can’t remember who hired you,” Luke said soothingly.
“I can tell you exactly who wants Darth Vader dead,” he said firmly.
Luke blinked several times. “But then…why haven’t you told me yet? If you know who it is-”
“Everyone in the galaxy who hated Emperor Palpatine wants Vader dead.” Din straightened slightly, and Luke could feel that he was steeling himself for something. “I mean no disrespect to you, but what has he done so far that’s proven him to be any better than the man he got rid of?”
“You know nothing about what Palpatine was,” Luke said hotly. “If you knew even half of the things he’s done to my father and I-”
“I don’t have to know what he did to you and your father to know that Palpatine was the scum of the galaxy,” Din said in a placating tone. “But what has Vader done to make life any better for the people who suffered under him?”
Luke had no answer.
“Maybe your dad isn’t a truly bad guy,” Din offered, “but if he isn’t then he has a responsibility to make the people he rules safer and happier, don’t you think?”
Luke watched the ground and finally nodded.
“That’s why I tried to kill him,” Din said softly.
Luke’s head snapped up, a suspicion forming. “No one hired you, did they?”
Din shook his head. “My Force-sensitive son is not dead,” he said in a voice thick with heartbreak. “But under Palpatine’s and now Vader’s rule, he is illegal and subject to termination. I can’t let that happen. Vader isn’t listening to anyone who tries to talk peace; he just sees us as rebel scum and eliminates us without thinking about whether what we’re saying makes sense. I was desperate to save my son before it was too late.”
“What were you going to do once I ascended the throne?” Luke asked, trying to be cold and angry but failing miserably. What Din was saying made a lot of sense, although he was reluctant to admit that his father was anything other than a good man in need of understanding and help.
“Try talking again,” Din answered, “Rumors were circulating that made us think you might not be as rigid as your father. We never wanted to kill anyone, but Vader isn’t giving us much choice; you would have.” Din lifted his head. “What will you do now?”
Luke thought over his answer very carefully. “I’m going to talk to my father,” he said at last, “I’m going to see if I can’t get him to see reason.”
“Do you think that will work?”
“It has to,” was all Luke could say.
DARTH VADER
Vader eased himself back onto his bed, sighing audibly. His limb stumps ached, and he could feel stiffness in his back that had not been there when he’d woken up in the morning. It was that damned throne. It weighed on him, deteriorating his already broken body even further.
Thank the Force for his son.
Darth Carcerous eased Vader’s prosthetics off of him, being as gentle as possible, but it didn’t stop the agonized twitch as they separated at last.
“How are you feeling today, Father?” Carcerous asked, lifting his helmet carefully from his head and reaching down to ease off his mask.
“As I usually feel,” Vader answered, breathing in the pressurized air of his bedroom, closing his eyes, and laying his head back against the pillows. “Pained but manageable thanks to you and your treatments.”
“I’m glad to know that the treatments are working,” Carcerous answered, moving his hands steadily up and down his father’s body, using the Force to find the most painful spots.
“I have not thanked you enough for them, my son.”
Carcerous shrugged. “It’s no trouble at all.” He paused, closing his eyes and concentrating, his hands directly over Vader’s heart. “Are the nightmares troubling you again?”
Vader nodded reluctantly. “They always do; the only nights I am granted peaceful slumber are the nights after you have healed me.” He sighed as he felt some relief begin to seep into his bones. “You take a great deal of care of me, and you rarely are given anything in return.”
There was a pause, and Carcerous asked in an amused voice, “What would you give me then?”
Vader smiled. “Anything you would ask,” he answered, “anything your heart might desire.”
Carcerous stopped his hands now, too. “Would you spare the Mandalorian?” he asked quietly.
Vader’s eyes flew open, his body tensing as though he planned to spring off the table. He glared daggers at his son. “You would truly ask this of me?” he questioned, anger brimming just below the surface.
“Father,” Carcerous said slowly. “I know that the Emperor before was terrible to you. I know what he put you through, and I know how much you have suffered and how much of it was for my sake.” He looked down, humbled by his father’s anger. “But that doesn’t mean you have to continue his cycle of abuse and hatred.”
“Palpatine held the Empire together for nearly twenty years without issue,” Vader said, “He was cunning and calculating, and he knew what systems would work for his galaxy. I am none of those things; I cannot devise a system by myself that would hold everyone together. It would break itself to pieces without Palpatine’s systems in place.”
“Then perhaps we should let it break and give some of the freedoms back that Palpatine took,” Carcerous answered, his tone still carefully neutral and his hands still held up to appease the Sith master’s anger. “Palpatine held the galaxy together through intimidation and fear, and it wasn’t working. There was a full-scale rebellion within the first years of the Empire, and they still haven’t stopped. Good people come after you because they don’t understand that you’re different from Palpatine. If we want the rebellions to stop, we have to prove that we’re worthy of their respect and love by respecting the people and doing what is best for them, not what grants us more power.” He raised his piercing golden eyes to Vader, and Vader now saw the tiniest specks of blue within the gold. “I know you’ve been hurt. I know how much darkness there is in your past. But that doesn’t mean you can’t try again.” He reached for his father’s left arm, or the stump left of it, but Vader drew back.
“How do you know he is ‘good’? Have you forgotten that the entire reason he is here is that he tried to kill me? How can someone like that be good in your eyes? Do you wish me dead already?” Vader watched his son shrink away from his anger, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it just yet. Darth Carcerous had been his apprentice for a handful of months and was already contemplating his downfall. He had thought that of all the people in the world, the one he might be able to trust was his son.
“You can still trust me, Father,” Carcerous said, hearing Vader’s thoughts through the Force. “I love you; I know it isn’t appropriate for a Sith to love, but I do. I love you, and I will stay by your side, no matter what.”
“You ask me to spare the man who tried to kill me and then in the next breath promise that I can trust you?”
Carcerous looked away. “It was just a question,” he said in a small voice. “I didn’t mean to upset you, Father. Please, forgive my impertinence.”
Vader could feel something very wrong about Darth Carcerous, something he wasn’t saying, but he was in too much pain to think about it. He nodded and then lay back and allowed his son to continue his healing, although it was the first time he endured the process with his eyes open.
DIN DJARIN
Din knew something was wrong. He could see how Luke walked with his eyes downcast, his mouth curved downward, and his refusal to look at Din.
“Your dad didn’t change his mind, did he?” Din asked, already knowing the answer.
Luke shook his head silently.
“Hey, you did your best,” he said, trying to keep the pit of fear out of his voice; he knew that Luke would be able to sense it anyway, but that didn’t stop him from trying to make it better.
“I’m so sorry, Din.”
Din heard the quiver in Luke’s voice. He reached slowly for Luke’s chin, giving him time to pull away, and tilted his face up to his own, and he could see tears in Luke’s molten eyes.
“Don’t worry about me, Luke,” Din said softly. “I won’t be the first or the last to die trying to make the galaxy better.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you,” Luke breathed. “I’m sorry…”
Din placed his hand on Luke’s face, caressing his cheek. “It’s okay.”
Luke smiled weakly. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. I’m not sure if it’s love, but I’ve never been this attached to someone I’ve never seen.”
Din paused, took a deep breath, and took Luke’s hands in his. Without breaking eye contact, he placed Luke’s hands on his helmet.
Luke’s eyes grew wide, and he breathed, “are you sure?”
Din pressed Luke’s hands into the helmet more insistently.
Luke nodded and slowly slid the helm off.
LUKE SKYWALKER
When Luke first saw Din’s face, he couldn’t decide where to look first. His eyes were dark, deep pools of warmth, welcoming Luke in like a lost friend. His dark hair lay in short curls on his head, and Luke reached up to brush one off his forehead. He trailed his fingers lightly down Din’s face and traced his square jaw with his fingertips, feeling the rough stubble that grew there. His fingers eventually found Din’s lips, tracing them lightly.
He felt himself leaning closer and felt Din leaning in simultaneously. He dropped his hand, and their lips slowly met.
They both pulled away at the same moment, gazing into each other’s eyes like they would stay there forever if they could.
“I think…” Luke said slowly, “I think I could have loved you if we’d had the time.”
The smallest of smiles twitched in the corner of Din’s mouth. “I think I could have loved you back,” he said quietly, and he leaned in again. This time, the kiss lasted longer, and Luke gave a slight whine when Din finally released him.
“You have to go,” Din said quietly. “It’s late, and your dad will expect you up early for tomorrow.”
Luke was reluctant to admit it, but Din was correct. He couldn’t stay here, much as he wanted to. He gave Din one last, desperate kiss, and then he stood, his hand in Din’s. He backed away slowly, letting their hands linger on each other’s as long as possible, and when he could stand it no longer, he turned and left the cell.
DARTH VADER
Vader watched as the Mandalorian was brought before him in the throne room. He had to admit he was impressed with the bounty hunter’s determination not to show that he was afraid, but it was in vain; Vader could feel it in the air around him, thick and heavy. He smelled the coppery scent of fear surrounding him the closer he came to Vader. This had always been Vader’s favorite part of his job, exacting his vengeance on those who had done wrong.
The Mandalorian was forced to kneel once more, and Vader stood from his throne, igniting his lightsaber as he did. There would be no quick and easy death for this man who had dared try to take his life. He had been willing to allow that before when that was the bounty hunter’s only offense. But he had seen a change in his son—a betrayal of all that Vader tried so hard to instill in him on behalf of this man. There would be no mercy now.
“Do you have a name for me, Mandalorian?” Vader asked; it was only fair he gave the man time to save himself first.
“Only my own, Emperor Vader; Din Djarin,” the Mandalorian answered, his voice defiant and his back straight. He was afraid of Vader, but that would not stop him from dying as honorably as he could.
“Very well.” Vader raised his saber, ready to pass his ultimate judgment.
He heard the sound of a second lightsaber being ignited a second before his own was blocked from Din Djarin’s neck by none other than his son.
“What are you doing?” Vader asked, astounded.
“Saving you,” Carcerous answered, and he forced the saber in Vader’s hand further away from its target.
“You would betray me and call it salvation?” Vader challenged, his voice raised in anger.
“I won’t let you sink further into darkness and hatred,” Carcerous promised, moving to stand between Din Djarin and Vader. “I love you too much to watch you destroy yourself for pride.”
“I will destroy all that wishes to destroy me,” Vader swore, “as this man has. Now get out of the way, Darth Carcerous.”
“No,” Carcerous answered, putting out his saber and throwing it to the side. “I will not fight you, but I will speak my piece, and then if you want to, you can kill me as well.”
Vader paused, struck to the heart by his son’s words. “You would give your life to save a stranger?” As if Vader could ever harm his son, the light of his life.
Carcerous nodded. “Yes, because he does not deserve to die, and you know it. I have told you already that the problem is not one man; the problem is the system under which we are all forced to live. Palpatine might be gone, but his memory lives on in the way you choose to rule, and Din will not be the last man who tries to save his family from Palpatine’s cruelty, Father.”
Vader flinched and took half a step backward.
“Din was thinking of his son when he planned what he did,” Carcerous continued. “Is it so difficult for you to empathize? You were once in the same position he finds himself in now; I was in danger, and the only thing you could do to protect me was to eliminate the man who threatened us. Don’t you see?” Carcerous, his son, Luke took a step closer and placed his hand on Vader’s arm. “I love you, Father. I don’t want to watch you become so much like him. I don’t want to see you fall into his path of cruelty and hatred.”
“It is what is expected of a Sith,” Vader tried to say firmly, but even he heard the uncertainty in his voice.
“Then it’s time to leave the Sith behind. The Jedi were wrong, yes, but so are the Sith. Come back to the center with me. Come back, Anakin Skywalker.”
Vader felt the lightsaber drop from his hand, extinguished, onto the ground. Luke smiled and wrapped his arms around Vader, holding him close.
Anakin returned his son’s embrace, and he felt something new in the Force for the first time, something he had never felt from his son before.
Luke was proud of him.