Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Shifting was a rare ability, a trait inherited from father to son. 

Luke had first learned that he was a shifter when he was eleven. His first change had been prompted during the Great Drought and the resulting water tax that was being enforced by Jabba the Hutt. Luke had been angry and frustrated by the unfairness of it all and, in the dead of night, had gone to confront the thugs who were stealing from the moisture farmers. 

In hindsight, it had been an incredibly stupid decision. He understood little about the world at that time, only that it was often unjust. Despite hearing many adults speaking about taking action and setting things right, it seemed as though no one ever did. His youthful ignorance had almost cost him his freedom - young and outnumbered, Jabba’s men had almost taken him as a slave right then and there. Luke’s own frightening transformation in the midst of his anger and fear and the mysterious Ben Kenobi had been all that kept him from that fate. 

He still wasn’t certain what he would have done if the change had happened while he’d been all alone. The first transformation had been - and as he later learned, often was, painful and terribly confusing. Without prior knowledge, it was entirely possible for someone with the ability to shift to think that they had gone completely mad and disappear into the sands for days or weeks on end until they shifted back out of exhaustion and lack of nourishment. Or, in a much more frightening scenario, simply become a victim to the dangers that came with such open vulnerability on a world as old and as harsh as Tatooine was.

Ben Kenobi had dealt with Jabba’s men and had used the Force on those who hadn’t been killed to make them forget what they had seen while Luke had been scrambling to find some sort of equilibrium in his new body.

…to this day, Luke didn’t think he would have been able to change back on his own if it hadn’t been for the gentle instruction and promptings from Ben coaching him through the process. Everything had been different - more powerful, more obvious, more intense - sight, sounds, textures, the raw strength and power of his new form, young though it had been… he’d even been able to taste the very water in the air.

When he was human once more, Ben had kindly scolded Luke for his foolish actions before taking him to the outskirts of the Lars homestead and explaining to him what he was and how he needed to be very careful moving forwards. It was during that first conversation that Ben had  revealed that he’d known Luke’s father, Anakin, and that he and Luke shared the same gift. 

It was from Anakin that Ben had learned about desert shifting. According to his father, the Desert and her Suns were the ones who first gave the desert dwellers the ability to shift. It was an ancient gift, an ability given only to a select few. Long ago, when Rakata razed the planet and Tatooine first began to die and her water dried up and the first Great Drought began, the settlers and the natives began to fight over the scarce resources that were left. Blood was shed and countless lives were lost. It was during that time that the rivalries that existed between the Tuskens and the settlers were established. The Sand People had adapted, as was their way, to the increasing harshness of the planet far quicker than anyone else could and eventually had declared that the off-worlders were no longer welcome.

The planet had been theirs first and despite having shared it for thousands of years, they believed that its remaining resources belonged to them. Everyone else was to be considered an Enemy and were to be slaughtered at every available opportunity from there on out. As the story went, the Desert and the Suns were saddened by the violence taking place and since it was the Tuskens who dominated the bloodshed, they gave the settlers a gift; a chance to protect themselves.

Shifting. 

The heads of the few remaining colonies were blessed to metamorphosize into great beasts; they resembled the mighty Krayt dragon in many aspects but were different in others. It was a fierce and impressive form. The dragon, as the form came to be called, had a thick scaly hide that was nearly impenetrable to the weapons of the Tuskens, with sharp teeth and claws, a long tail, and a massive wingspan that was twice the length of their body. 

With a new gift and defense in hand, the next time the Tuskens came to commence the work of death, the settlers were prepared. Their leaders shifted into their dragon forms and fought off the Tuskens for the first time, frightening and killing many of them. Many more battles would occur between the two groups but eventually, the Tuskens grew fearful and wary of the settlers and their power. Their hatred of them and their insistence that the planet was theirs remained, but over time they began to keep their distance. The great slaughters slowly ceased and only those few who were unlucky enough to accidentally wander into Tusken territory fell victim to their hatred.  

The shifting ability did not cease with the bloodshed. It was the settlers to keep and cherish and for generations, was passed on from father to son, and used only as needed. When the family lines began to die out, the ability to shift grew rarer and rarer. When the Hutts arrived and started taking over and as time and technology advanced, those who had the gift began to hide it for fear of capture and enslavement until it was believed to be lost forever. 

Any shifters that were left knew well enough to keep their gift a secret, even from their families.

The stories faded into something like myth and legend and sometimes, only the Tuskens' fearful respect of the Krayt dragon and their continued adherence to the boundary lines of the human settlements remained to show that the shifters had ever existed at all. 

As far as Luke knew, the Skywalker’s had been brought to Tatooine through the slave trade itself and were not one of those original families. But, somehow, for one reason or another, his father Anakin had been given the ability - touched by the Desert and her Suns - and Luke had inherited the gift from him.  

It had been an exhilarating revelation and one that he had treasured. For an orphaned boy on the cusp of becoming a man, it had been the connection to his family that he had needed at the time. It made him feel close to his father in a way that stories had never managed to do. 

For several years afterward, Luke had spent his nights growing accustomed to his other form and exploring Beggar’s Canyon and even parts of the Dune Sea to his heart's content, until he knew them like the back of his hand. The change became easier and easier to do and less painful as well until he could shift as easily as he could change his shirt. He learned that any injury he got in one form transferred to the other - that his dragon wasn’t a different body at all. It was him. It was his body - the same body, just in a different shape. 

His senses all became sharper too. It was less intense in his human form but it was still more than it had been. His hearing and eyesight were both a thousand times better. He could find water when there was no water to be found just because he could smell and taste it in the hot desert air. Even the other animals on Tatooine treated him differently - the prey animals treated him like a predator until they grew accustomed to him and other predators seemed to want to avoid him entirely. Luke, with his teenage pride and ego, had realized at some point that he was one of the most fearsome predators on the planet. 

That was why the other natural animals avoided him like the plague; they knew when they were outclassed, and even though he had been young and still growing… as a dragon, Luke had already been several hundred pounds of solid muscle, with razor sharp teeth and claws.

Luke had kept his ability a secret from everyone - everyone except for Ben, of course, who he would occasionally sneak out to talk to when he was confident Uncle Owen would never find out. The sorcerer - a Jedi, as Luke came to learn - was quiet company and they didn’t talk about too much. But… occasionally, Ben would tell Luke a story or two about the galaxy before the Empire or about a mission that he had gone on with Anakin and some of the crazier things that had happened to them. 

It had been just enough to fuel a young boy’s imagination. It made Tatooine feel less small and it had probably prevented a lot of tension between Luke and Owen as he got a bit older and their differences became more and more apparent.

Those years had been some of the happiest in his life.

But nothing good ever lasted forever and one fateful night, deep in the Desert and far from home, Luke unexpectedly met his match and the trials of his life began.

Chapter Text

Luke paced. 

It was all that he could do. 

Pace in a small, useless, frustrating circle until he wore himself out and could try and sleep for a few hours before waking up and having to do it all over again. His heart longed for the open desert sands and the ability to stretch his limbs and fly. No one ever let him fly - it was just one of many things that he wasn’t allowed to do anymore. He had adapted to this forced lifestyle out of necessity but this recent change of hands was proving to be unbearable. 

Which sucked, because the first set of hands to own him had been unbearable as well. As time progressed, so did his definition of unbearable. So far, he hadn’t actually found a cap on the limit of what he could bear. He adapted, time and again. 

The master who had first bent him to his will had been a rebel extremist by the name of Saw Gerrera. He was the one who had bought Luke off the bounty hunter that had, through some means that Luke still didn’t understand, hunted him down on Tatooine and then trapped him in his shifter form when he’d been almost fifteen. Through a network of contacts and the black market underground, the bounty hunter had gotten him off of the planet entirely. 

That had been… he didn’t even know how many years ago now. His memory of that time had always been fuzzy - the bounty hunter had used a combination of drugs to keep Luke out for the count and he only vaguely remembered waking up occasionally during transport. Always somewhere new. Always somewhere dark. He had barely had enough time to even realize that he was awake before he was being put back under. 

It had been a long time ago. That was all that Luke knew and allowed himself to think - if he dwelled on what had happened any longer than that, it would drive him insane and his sanity was fragile enough as it was. There were too many other things to occupy his thoughts and time with that were even more frustrating than having been stolen from home. Things like having been turned into an elaborate pet.

Like the fact that he was trapped in every imaginable way that had him teetering more often than not. Shifting had been so easy before all of this and now it was like he couldn’t comprehend how to do it at all. Luke had tried. Desperately. Angrily. For weeks and then for months until he had been forced to accept that it was gone. The knowledge of how to do it was locked away - it was like his thoughts would slip and blur when he tried to initiate the shift and he couldn't undo any of it. 

Luke didn’t even remember what it felt like to feel human anymore.

He was trapped as a dragon. Trapped in a damn cage that had been too small for him ages ago, and trapped with the people who had taken him, unable to escape without killing himself in the process. 

Sometimes it took Luke a while to learn certain things since his access to information was limited. But… at least in the beginning, Luke had been able to learn fairly quickly. He’d been sold to a group known as the Onderon Rebels and more specifically, to a man known as Saw Gererra. Saw had known what Luke was, the same as the bounty hunter had. He’d explained everything at the beginning, in a very cold, unsympathetic sort of way. Luke’s resulting induction to the Rebellion had been… a shock, to say the least. In the end, Luke had become one of their unwilling weapons of destruction in the ongoing fight against the Empire. 

Whatever…  boyhood fantasies he’d had about fighting the good fight or engaging in epic battles that resulted in phenomenal victories were gone. 

He hated war. There was nothing good about it. Nothing epic. Nothing heroic. Necessary, maybe, from certain points of view. That idea of necessity had been pushed on him often enough in the beginning. But awful. And he hated that he’d been forced into it.

Luke would have happily torn every single one of the rebels to shreds, except that he had not just one but two transmitters set to explode inside of him. One of them, he knew, was in one of his limbs - a sure way to cripple him without completely destroying an expensive investment, and the other one was the backup that would kill him if he ever truly fell out of line. 

That was a reality that had often been flaunted in his face while the Onderon Rebels had broken him in. Often, it had seemed to serve only to piss him off and re-emphasize that for all his strength and raw power, he had absolutely none.

Luke had only ever heard stories as a kid about transmitters. He knew his aunt helped remove them from runaways but had never seen the process of doing so. He hadn’t realized how powerless they made someone until he’d been given his own. In the end, Luke shared more in common with his father than just shifting. That final night in the desert, Luke had unwittingly returned the Skywalker name back to its roots of slavery. 

He was an idiot and he hated himself for it. An idiot now sent out to do the bidding of a master that he loathed. Forced to kill, when he would have rather never killed anyone at all. 

It wasn’t fair, though Luke had learned over time not to get dragged into the depths of depression over it. Depression would kill him or see him severely punished for being less effective. Anger was more powerful of an ally and he found that it strengthened him even when he had nothing else left inside. It had kept him alive this long and it would help him endure this change of hands too.

Saw Gererra was gone now. 

Luke didn’t know what had happened to him and he didn’t particularly care either. All he knew was that the main branch of the Rebel Alliance had found and taken 'custody' of him. He'd been hopeful at first that this might be a good thing - that he had been saved and would be freed. But… that was not the way of things. He should have known better than to get his hopes up and he promised himself that he wouldn’t do it again. No one would save him from this. Not in this galaxy. He was just going to have to wait for the right opportunity and do it himself.

These new people either knew what he was, the way that Saw had - and knew that he wasn’t some stupid animal and had a mind and a will of his own - or they just didn’t care. Luke didn’t have much faith in sentients or humanity in general and so he was leaning towards the latter. 

He suspected that it was easier for these people to pretend that he was some kind of elaborate attack dog and nothing more. If they acknowledged his humanity, then the morals they professed to have would demand that they let him go. And Luke was too good at killing for them to possibly be willing to do that. Not when the war against the Empire took precedence over everything else. 

His effectiveness on a battlefield was pretty well known at this point. 

But with the change in hands, his treatment had become a lot less predictable. As much as Luke had hated Saw, he had learned what to expect from him. They had come to a tenuous understanding between each other and at the very least, Luke had been able to count on his basic necessities being met. 

Namely, meals. 

As long as he had behaved and did what he was told (i.e kill the enemy ), then Luke knew he would eat at the end of the day. He would be locked in the beskar enforced steel bar cage and stored out of sight until he was needed again, but he would eat.

Since arriving on the Rebel base on Yavin 4, Luke hadn’t eaten at all. His dragon could go a long time without eating when it was doing nothing except laying around but the hunger pains had started fast. His cage had been put in what seemed to be some kind of heavy duty storage unit and from there he had mostly been ignored. The heat from lack of airflow hadn’t bothered him too much - his shifter form was built to withstand intense heat, after all, but it was irritating all the same. There was nothing here to occupy his time or mind with. Even his enhanced hearing was good for nothing when soundproof walls were enforced.

After the first handful of days, a few people had come in with armor, electrostaffs and sedatives and it only dawned on Luke at the last minute that their neglect of him was entirely purposeful. He didn’t know what they intended to do to him while he was unconscious and he knew that he didn’t want to find out. 

Growling low and deep in his chest, Luke had squared off with them as best as he could in a cage that had been too small for him ages ago, determined not to go down without a fight. Even weakened, his dragon form was fierce and powerful and it took effort and no small amount of pain before they had managed to subdue him. He was awake long enough to feel them pierce his hide with something sharp and painful and hear the murmuring voices saying that “...if we don’t, someone else will.” 

After that, Luke hadn’t known anything for a while. 

A meager meal, barely enough to put a dent in his ravenous hunger, was waiting for him when he woke up again and he had almost been inclined to ignore it entirely except he had no idea if or when these people would feed him again.

That had been a week ago now and the lack of nourishment and water weighed on him heavily. He couldn’t think clearly - it seemed like there was a ringing sound in the back of his mind that he couldn’t shake. Luke was bored and lonely and angry to the point where he almost missed Saw Gerrera. 

Anyone that could make him miss that bastard deserved nothing except death. 

Mostly though, he just missed home. 

He missed his aunt and his uncle. He missed the desert and the sands and he missed his freedom. His family probably had no idea what had happened to him and probably thought him long dead. The thought always depressed him and with a little effort, he turned away from it and continued his pacing, choosing instead to be angry.

The anger was a buzz of its own. 

He didn’t understand it and didn’t really care either. All he knew was that it helped. Boosted him somehow. It made him feel powerful even though he wasn’t. It tingled and felt like liquid fire in his veins when he was at his most rageful. It made all his other hurts lessen, somehow. Just for a little while, at least.

Luke only paused, turning his head over his shoulder to look when the massive door to the unit he was being kept in creaked loudly and opened for the first time in days. Cool, fresh air spilled inside and the scent of trees and water and life drifted in. A beam of light split across the floor and Luke watched as two men entered in. They were the first people he’d seen since they’d put him out and they had no weapons of any sort on them. The sound of their shoes clicking on the floor was abruptly irritating. They both were wearing crisp looking uniforms and were clearly of some higher rank. 

“Will it be useful to us?” one of them was asking quietly. 

Luke narrowed his eyes and growled a mean, fearsome sound deep in his chest as they approached, baring his teeth. It didn’t nothing to persuade them to stay away and some deep instinctual part of him was offended that they thought they could approach him at all. They were nothing - puny, pathetic little beings with no way to defend themselves. 

“He will be. He acts mean, but he knows his place. Gerrera was good for one thing, it seemed.”

“Powerful weapon,” the first one mused, looking up and down the length of him like he was a slave at market.  

“Stronger than a rancor,” the second agreed. “It’s got a hide that only beskar can pierce - that we’ve figured out at least. Only this one can take orders. Damn effective on the battlefield.”

Luke continued to growl his hatred and anger. He glared at the men as they approached, wishing death upon them and their descendants a thousand times over. He’d rip them to shreds if he could and he felt the muscles in his body tense as they neared the cage that they had him trapped in, slowing their steps a little for the first time. Luke could guess that they knew to keep at least some sort of distance. Everyone always did.

At the last possible second, Luke lunged at the cage - at them - slamming into it bodily and roaring his anger and rage. The sound was like a boom of thunder and the noise from the outside world lessened as the rest of the base heard him for the first time. The first man jumped back in fright, reeking of fear and unease for the first time. The second one was not so nervous. He stood calmly and offered Luke a wry smile. He knew the beskar would hold him. It was one of the only things that could. 

The smile irked Luke to no end and he watched, seething and furious as the man slipped a hand into his pocket and pulled out a simple little device.

The detonator to his transmitters. 

Luke glowered at both of them, hating them and everyone that they loved with a fiery passion. The man with the detonator held Luke’s fearsome gaze, which his dragon instincts found disrespectful and rude, fueling his anger. How dare this little ant look him in the eyes? He bared his teeth, letting the bastard know in the only way that he could that he was treading a thin line - that Luke would kill him in an instant if ever given the opportunity.

It did nothing. The man did know, Luke realized in an instant. If there had been any doubt, it was gone now. The bastard knew what Luke was. 

He knew - he knew that Luke was sentient and was still choosing to treat him like a beast. They all were. The heavy collar that had hung around his neck for the last week sparked with electricity, jolting him painfully and knocking the air out of his lungs. It hurt. 

Luke didn’t know how many volts of electricity they used on him but it was only sheer willpower that kept him on his feet. He got the message when it didn’t stop though and in an act of pure humiliation, forced himself to break eye contact. It was submission in the simplest form and it made him want to rage. 

“He’ll behave.” the second man said simply. 

For now, Luke agreed fiercely. His chance would come eventually. He didn’t know how or when but it would. These people would slip up eventually. It would be a day of death and blood and fire for all of them when they did.

Luke turned around and slumped to the floor of his cage with all the dignity that he could, curling his spiked tail around him so that it hid his face. He ignored the bemused laugh and half-heartedly listened to the rest of their conversation to each other and to him.

That he worked for the Rebellion now and that his situation could be better or it could be worse than it currently was depending on how easy he decided to make this. The arrangement would be similar to the work he did for Saw Gererra… they were all things he'd heard a thousand times. Things he’d known deep down to expect. Luke could only bring himself to listen for a few minutes before tuning it all out.

He was willing to bide his time. Time was all he had right now and desert people knew well of trials and tribulations and they were always willing to wait for a chance at freedom. His father had found it eventually and Luke was determined that he would find it too.

For now, he would keep his anger for company and use it to endure and survive.

Chapter Text

The next few weeks passed by in much the same way that they had when he'd been with Saw Gererra. Either on the move, fighting a fight that he didn't want to be a part of, or in a cage waiting to be let out again.

Luke was getting the impression that this particular group of rebels weren’t able to stay put for very long. He tried to figure out why and hesitantly came to the conclusion that their numbers could be one of the reasons that made it harder for them to have a more established home base in their fight against the Empire. It was just hard to keep a low profile when you had thousands upon thousands of people gathered in one place. The Rebellion had been in the process of moving when they’d stumbled upon Luke and taken ownership of him - and now, after a few fights with the Empire, just a few short weeks later, they had packed up and moved locations once again. 

The last fight hadn’t gone very well, though not for Luke’s own lack of effort. There had just been a lot of people in the attack that had come up against them. It had been close and the Rebellion had only come out on top because Luke had been able to defend them against the AT-ST’s that might have otherwise wiped out their ground troops. The machines were exceptionally difficult to take down and the tree coverage on the battleground had made it nearly impossible for aerial assistance to come and aid them. Luke had been the next best thing. He wasn’t sure how but he knew that he wasn’t full grown yet and wouldn’t be for several years - but he was big enough and much more agile than a walker was. His claws and teeth were like spears that could rip into the metal with ease and tear the machines apart and the heat of his flames was equally destructive. 

The downside was that the AT-ST's were armed with more advanced weaponry. Blasters - even blaster rifles - didn't have much effect on Luke. His hide was too thick for ground troop weapons to hurt him in any significant way. At most, he compared them to flies - they were annoying. But the AT-ST's were equipped with laser cannons, something Luke hadn't seen or dealt with before in any of his battles with the Onderon Rebels and he hoped he wouldn't have to deal with again anytime soon. 

When they had made their appearance on the battlefield, Luke had frozen in his attack, amazed at the sight of them until one of his handlers gave the order for him to deal with them so that the Rebels could retreat and escape. Luke didn't have a choice and since he was the more obvious threat, the Empire had turned their attention almost solely onto him, granting them that very chance.

As he had learned very quickly, the laser cannons hurt.

Horribly. 

Luke had been lucky that they couldn't break through his hide or cause him to bleed - small miracles, he supposed - but the force of their impact broke his bones and knocked the wind out of him in a way that he had never experienced in this form before. If he'd been able, he would have abandoned the fight entirely after the first shot made contact and knocked him solidly to the ground. When the realization that this was a different kind of fight where he no longer had the immediate advantage sunk in and dread curled in his gut at the thought that there was no one that could back Luke up against one of these... a very unfamiliar sort of fear had gripped his heart and shaken his confidence for the very first time.

He was the backup.

And he'd been totally on his own against at least six of the walkers.

The pain had been nearly all-consuming, driving rational thought far from his mind as he forced himself to get up and protect himself and the fleeing rebels. The pain had had the effect of making his dragon angry and that odd, tingling power that Luke had come to associate with anger and pain had bled into his veins and made him see red. He had been aware of getting hurt - could hear his bones cracking and breaking every time he got shot - but the pain became an after-thought in the resulting battle.

He had turned into a flurry of movement - slashing and spewing flames right and left and letting the weight of his enormous body knock the AT-ST's to the ground before he tore the metal apart and killed the occupants inside, ripping them to shreds like the little beasts that they were. It had taken longer than he had wanted to deal with the threats to him and the pain and the unfairness of it all had kept him in a foul mood afterwards. He returned to the base and his handlers, bruised and broken and seething with a rage that had frightened the rebels immensely. 

Luke had snapped at several of them who dared come too close to him - which was their fault, not his. They should have known better and despite having hurt no one, he had been shocked with the collar around his throat in response and herded into his cage. The additional pain had put him in an even worse mood and he felt tense and shaky at the thought of having to endure more of it. The electricity jolting through his body was worse when it hurt to simply breathe. 

But for once, he didn't really mind having to return to his cage. He wanted to rest. To lay down in a small space and curl up and pretend that he was safe where no one could get him, and not have to think about anything else for a while. Everything hurt, even breathing, and the only thing that could soothe the pain that was lingering in his anger.

No one fed him that night - Luke assumed, when his mind had calmed down a little, that it was due to his 'bad behavior'. Which was unfair - it wasn't as though he had saved their lives or anything. Or that they had set him up against an enemy that had done more damage to him and which had caused him more pain than he had ever experienced before. 

Still. He slept uneasily. He felt tense and on edge, even in sleep, coming awake at even the tiniest of sounds in the blink of an eye. Flashes of color - red and green, like the laser canons shots - would dance across his dreams and the phantom sounds of laser cannons echoed in his ears and startled him awake at random moments. He had never liked fighting but he'd always been good at it. But now... now there was a new dread curling in his stomach at the thought of being sent out again and getting hurt. 

Luke had never been bested before. He'd never really gotten hurt before now - and he couldn't expect the Rebellion to care very much about his welfare either. That seemed a given, considering his current situation... but it was a lonely feeling to have nonetheless.

He ate less than he had before.

Luke tried not to think about it too much - it wasn't as if it did him any good to dwell on things he had no control over - but hunger gnawed at him constantly and there was a weakness in his body that he had never quite experienced to this degree. In the weeks since the Rebellion's last fight, Luke came to realize that the main branch of the Rebellion feared him more than they tried to let on. Luke wasn't entirely certain what had prompted the change - it could have been anything, really. He had never bothered to hide his anger and hatred towards them but he hadn't hurt anyone either. Just gave warnings which he thought were perfectly reasonable.

The Rebellion was preoccupied with setting up a new base and doing whatever it was that they did when they weren't actively engaged in battle against the Empire. The lack of action had given him the time he had needed to heal from the worst of his injuries but at the same time... it seemed as though his handlers and others had become increasingly aware of just how deep and far his anger towards them ran. Where before, Rebellion members would come and point and stare at him... they avoided him entirely now. There was a feeling of fear in the air around anyone that dealt with him. They avoided looking him in the eyes and Luke wondered if his proclivity for death and destruction had really sunk in after the Rebellion had seen him in action for themselves.

Maybe they were afraid of what would happen to them if Luke ever slipped his collar and had the chance to act on the anger they knew he felt for them. Some important looking officials came to speak to him once - a woman in white, who introduced herself to him as Mon Mothma, and other generals that Luke recognized from battlefields but who's names he didn't know or care to know. She told him that all of this was temporary. That they just needed him until the war was over. That this 'arrangement' between them wouldn’t be permanent. 

She had said it as if it was supposed to make it all better between them. As if Luke would understand. 

It was a mistake on their part. It really only made things worse. Luke was furious that they thought they could ever justify his slavery to him or to anyone else. He didn't have words to tell them what he thought but his body language had spoken for itself. They had left him alone and this starvation was the result. If he was going to be an active danger - even if only a future danger to them - then they were going to keep him weak so he couldn't cause any real problems. But it meant that he got hurt on the battlefield more often - he was too slow now. The battles had always been little ones - nothing major, mostly situations where the had accidentally crossed paths with enemy outposts. The Empire was vast and it was difficult to avoid them no matter where the Rebellion tried to hide. Luke was too distracted and tired to keep up and protect himself the way that he usually would.

No one else seemed to be particularly concerned about that - collateral damage was expected, after all, and Luke was supposed to be big and strong enough to endure it. They were banking on the fact that it was immensely difficult to truly hurt him and his presence alone usually meant that things went in their favor. 

If Luke had a viable way to communicate with them and if they cared even one wit about his opinion or feelings, he would tell them that they were probably well on their way to getting him killed. Saw Gererra had grown insane over the years that Luke had known him but he'd still valued Luke as a tool. Keeping him in decent condition had been a priority and it had been one of the few reasons Luke could tolerate anything from that situation. 

The Rebellion though... they had too much guilt and fear weighing on them about what they were doing to him in order to take care of him. It was almost like they were treating him with so much disregard as a way to convince themselves that he was just a tool. Just a beast with no rights or feelings to consider. In trying to convince themselves that what they were willingly doing to him was right, they were giving Luke the short end of the stick. 

They treated their droids with more regard than they treated him. 

Bastards. 

Luke knew that he wouldn’t be able to continue on like this much longer. Something was going to go wrong - the question was when. The Empire was aware of him and had been for a long time now. Even minor Imperial outposts had been informed that they could expect him and were prepared to deal with him when the situation arose. Saw had known that that would always be a possibility - but the skirmishes he’d had with the Empire had always been small. Important targets but fewer people involved. Luke had been a devastating opponent to deal with back then. 

The Rebellion used Luke much more openly and in much bigger fights. There were a lot of people for him to contend with and more opportunities for him to get hurt. The Empire adapted their methods quickly whenever they realized that Luke was on the battlefield. They had weapons designed specifically to deal with him - weapons that were meant to cripple him or knock him out so that strike forces and special ops groups could be sent out to actively try and capture him. 

Luke almost hoped sometimes that they would be successful. 

His life had become nothing more than fighting and killing, being neglected, and trying to recover from injuries before he was forced to fight another fight. It was frustrating for Luke and sometimes, even his anger wasn't enough to keep him from sinking into a lonely depression. Even pacing in a circle had become a chore. He couldn’t do it for as long as he’d used to before he was too exhausted and had to lay down and rest. He spent more time in his head than he ever had before, letting lonely thoughts of home drift in front of his eyes and play out in front of him. 

Beru.

Owen.

His friends; Biggs, Camie, Fixer, Deak, and Windy. Old Ben. 

The twin suns setting in the distance. 

The desert sands and how it felt to fly and be free. 

He missed it all. 

Once or twice, during these daydreams, it felt... almost as if his mind… slipped… and had gone farther than just daydreaming. It had been hazy, like a holo image… but he thought he’d seen his aunt and uncle for real. Beru had looked older than she had the last time he’d seen her. There were more wrinkles on her face and gray in her hair then he remembered from childhood. She had been sitting at the kitchen table and she had looked sad, like she’d been crying. Uncle Owen had come into the room and had stood in the entryway for a minute or so before sitting down beside her in silence, reaching across the table to hold her hand. 

They hadn't said anything to each other. Their silence was enough. 

The second time it had happened and his mind had slipped into a space that he didn't really understand, Luke had felt like he could go anywhere and see anything he wanted. He felt... almost free. It was Tatooine that he missed and the homestead had reappeared in front of his eyes. This time, he saw it from the outside. There was midday and there was a light sandstorm blowing. He could see the family graves where his grandfather and his grandmother were buried and the top of the house, where he used to play and pretend to be a pod racer like his father had been. Part of him felt like he could even feel the warm desert heat against his skin. 

He only had to think about being inside before he was inside. The shift and change in scenery was no more difficult than blinking his eyes. It was easy enough to find Beru once more and just as last time, it looked as though she had been crying. 

Luke was certain that she was crying about him. Guilt gnawed at him and he’d thought about reaching out somehow to try and comfort her in her sadness and grief but before he could even attempt to try, he had felt something like a shadow pass over him - like something or someone was watching him. The feeling was so intense that it had startled him out of his daydream entirely. The hazy image of his aunt disappeared from view but when he’d lifted his head to look and see what it was that had disturbed him, there wasn't been anything or anyone there. 

The strange feeling of being watched remained and when it didn't fade, Luke hesitantly decided that it was just further proof that he was probably going insane.

Fighting. 

Sleeping. 

Eating a half decent meal. 

Repeat.

Over and over and over. It felt like his life had become nothing but a fever dream. Everything seemed inconsistent and unpredictable and the only things he really felt anymore was fear and anger. The anger was helpful - the fear of getting hurt or killed was not. Even while being denied his humanity, his dragon form was supposed to protect him - it had protected him for all this time. The realization that even his dragon could get hurt or killed made him feel weak and pathetic in a way that even slavery hadn't managed to accomplish. He didn't want to die this way - as a tool - as an animal that no one gave two thoughts about beyond how useful he could be to them. He didn't want to disappear from the galaxy, having done nothing with his life except cause death and pain.

He didn't want to do any of this. He didn't want to kill or murder or help these people who had no regard for him. Part of him would rather die than have this existence be all that he ever was. But whenever those intrusive thoughts came along, which was happening a little more frequently than it used to, Luke would just let himself slip further into the mind of his dragon, where he could hide until those thoughts and feelings went away. Animals didn’t think the same way that people did. They had no real concept of suicide and when Luke himself was too tired to want to continue on, he let his dragon take over with its own fierce and powerful need to survive until he could cope with it all once more. 

Besides. He couldn't give up. Giving up was for cowards and Luke had people to make it back to. He wasn't certain how he would eventually get back home and it wasn't as if he could shift back to a human anymore either... but he would live for his aunt and uncle, if it meant that one day Beru wouldn't have to cry anymore tears over him. 

Luke shifted and then slumped on his side with a massive sigh. He wished he could stretch out fully and relieve some of the stiffness from his body. Instead, he closed his eyes and let his thoughts drift once more towards Tatooine, with the faint hope that he would be allowed to go home for a little while, even if just in a daydream. 

Chapter Text

Vader stood silently at the viewport of the Destroyer staring out into the vast expanse of space. Behind him, Captain Nevik was walking through the aisles of the Pit, making comments here and there to other staff. Otherwise, things were quiet… everything was running smoothly and as they should be. The repairs that his ship had required after the recently dubbed Battle of Scarif had finally been completed a week or so ago and they had been cleared to resume their normal operations. 

The Rebellion was gaining momentum and had been since their victory on Scarif. A loss that he had personally suffered on account of and been punished severely for. Scarif had been the turning point. The rebels had engaged against the Imperial fleet for the first and had successfully held their own - they had suffered immense losses… but they had held their own. It was a small cause for concern. Vader was certain that they could be crushed and that it was only a matter of time… but it was important that they didn’t win anything of significance again. 

There was no need for others in the galaxy to feel as though real traction for change was possible. The Empire could be set to right and the desire for a new republic would die after the citizens of the galaxy could actually recognize the benefit and security the Empire offered instead.

What he needed from the Rebellion now were the Death Star plans that they had stolen. Retrieving them would not put him back in favor with the Emperor - he had lost some of the last goodwill between them when he had lost the plans. That fact did not bother him perhaps as much as it should have… but the relationship was nearing its end; he had grown stronger over the years and while he was not yet at his full strength yet, it was only a matter of time before he was. 

The restraints the Emperor had put on him were beginning to chafe. Now that he was healing and growing stronger, he was growing irritated. Weakness, even feigned, was not tolerable. He was more than this; more powerful, stronger, and better. He was ready for a change - ready to kill the Emperor

He helped create the Empire and now he was ready to take it back. He just needed the Death Star plans. 

The battle station needed to be destroyed. It was an abomination that he had no intention of allowing to be set loose on the galaxy and he knew there was a flaw in it somewhere. Something that could set it off and destroy it entirely - Galen Erso wasn’t loyal to the Empire and why else would the rebels risk so much in order to obtain them? 

The rebellion was an irritant - full of traitors and criminals that were disrupting the Empire that he fully intended to rule. He was almost of a mind to let them try and destroy it on their own, except that he did not believe that they possessed the capability. If he didn’t retrieve the plans from them and they were destroyed in the attempt, then they would be gone and he would have to acquire them through more noticeable means. 

He wanted to avoid that for as long as possible. 

And perhaps… even more than that… if the rebellion was lost in the attempt, then he might lose the opportunity to track down their latest asset. 

Ground battles and skirmishes were more common than actual military attacks in space. The rebellion had had a tendency to target notable military locations and officers in charge and political opponents than the Imperial fleet itself. 

Vader had been made aware only within the last few weeks of a beast that was often involved in rebellion attacks that had been reported to be impossible to kill. A four-legged, winged serpent that was capable of breathing fire. Conventional weapons couldn’t pierce through the hide and it was a fearsome opponent that dealt death to anyone who came in contact with it. 

In the file that he requested from the most recent battle, there had even been a holo included. 

Vader hadn’t been caught off guard in a long time. There was no reported name for what the beast was supposed to be - it had only been labeled as 'UNKNOWN SPECIES'. 

He hadn’t bothered to correct anyone. Even if he hadn’t been caught off guard, he wouldn’t have said anything. 

Vader didn’t abide by many rules anymore… but it didn’t seem to matter how long it had been since he’d left - Tatooine and her laws still ran in his blood. Obeying them had kept him safe for a long time. Hunting down the Rebellion now included finding their desert dragon; both out of retribution for the deaths of his men and for the greater crime of breaking Desert Law. 

Keep it secret, was the rule for their kind, those of them that were left. They weren’t meant to expose themselves to anyone, even to each other, in order to preserve the gift and allow the tales to fall into myth for the safety of any future shifters. 

This one, whoever it was, had broken the Law. 

Vader wanted to know why. 

He had been spending what time he had to himself in meditation, attempting to find the other shifter through the Force. So far, he had been unsuccessful. Visions had never been his strong suit and that was partly his fault - he had avoided them entirely for decades, never developing the skill out of fear for what they would show him. Some Force sensitives were more naturally in tune with that particular aspect of the Force but his personal experiences with visions had only ever been in relation to family and they had always ended horrifically. 

He wasn’t certain if he would succeed in finding someone that he had no relation to now… but it never hurt to try. 

Tuning out the familiar noise of the bridge and his subordinates, he let his mind drift until he was only vaguely aware of what was going on around him, focusing all his energy on the Force and asking it to show him who he was searching for. A gray haze passed in front of his eyes, like fog so thick it obscured everything else. Vader settled into the new surroundings, looking around and becoming aware that there were whispers and flickers of images that passed in front of his eyes, almost too quick to see. In the fog, quick, darting lights began to appear, drifting in and out of view. People, ideas, pasts and futures, all of them available and beckoning to him to come and see. He reached out, touching the nearest one with a light touch, wondering where it would lead him. 

Wrong way, the Force seemed to whisper faintly. 

Vader pulled back, redirecting his attention and lightly touching other shimmering threads that surrounded him and listening for the faint, almost ghostly whispers of not that way… this way…  closer… wrong way… almost there….

Finally there was a bright thread of light that appeared in the hazy fog, different then the others and easier for him to see. Some small part of his mind thought it was familiar somehow though he could not claim to know how or why. He dismissed the idea but the Force didn’t seem to mind, humming in satisfaction anyways and silently confirming that he’d found who he was looking for. 

Stepping closer, Vader first became aware of an aura of anger. 

Anger and violence and hatred. If he were not so accustomed to the same feelings, they would be overwhelming to him. Instead, he recognized the emotions through the Force and felt apathy. He did not care for the reasons why.

The next impression that came to mind was intense hunger… and sadness. 

Where is he? Vader demanded, lifting his eyes from the bright thread of light and looking around, trying to see if the surrounding haze would show him something else. A location - a planet, a name. Anything. He did not care about what this person felt. 

It took several long seconds, but the Force shifted slightly, responding to his question and then in the same instant, the fog grew lighter and lighter around him until he could recognize and felt as though he were outside in the sand dunes of Tatooine. 

I know where he is from, Vader said in frustration. He knew the stories and legends, perhaps better than most, and in all of his travels around the galaxy, he had never been to a planet quite like this one. It stood apart from all the others, its history and legends hidden and kept safe in equal measure by its anonymity and harshness.

For all that it had once given him, this planet had taken away more. Vader did not want to be here in this place that felt too familiar and real. He was looking at the outside of a homestead, where an intense feeling of longing and home hung heavy in the air. 

The image did not fade however much he wished that it would and Vader scowled but forced himself to take a step forward towards the house. Then another and another, until he was standing in the front entryway itself.

The feelings of sadness persisted even stronger down here. He had the faint sense that there were people further inside but he refused to step any further towards them. He had no desire to see who they were. 

Instead, he went right, walking through a living space and through a few smaller rooms. The individuals that lived here were not wealthy by any real means, but neither were they poor by Tatooine standards either. 

Finally, he hovered in the doorway of a bedroom that seemed to whisper more powerfully to him than the others. There was something… empty about it. As though the occupant of this room had not been present for a long time. It seemed untouched, clothes left on the floor where they had been dropped, a bed unmade, a toy starship covered in dust still sitting on an equally dusty bedside table. 

Why is any of this important? Vader demanded impatiently. 

…see… the Force whispered softly. …see..

The room itself began to drift out of view and the sensation of being dragged or sucked through a tunnel at a rapid speed took over his mind. Pictures and moments of a life that wasn’t his began to flash in front of his eyes almost too quickly for him to understand - fighting, pain, fear, loneliness - I’m trapped, I’m trapped, why can’t I change back?! - hunger, home, help me -  a fleeting image of a boy whose face was blurred but hauntingly familiar at the same time - 

The sensation of being ripped through a tunnel ended abruptly and the next thing his eyes focused on was the outside view of a compound of some sort. Vader glanced around his new surroundings. The hazy fog was still present, but now there were whispers and people that he didn’t recognize stepping in and out of view. 

Rebels, he realized after a long moment. The ones he saw seemed stressed and tired and occasionally they glanced over their shoulders at the compound which seemed to sit off to the side of any active work zones. They were wary of whatever was there. Fearful, even. And guilty. 

Guilty for what, though?

The faint, echoing voice of a disembodied person whispered around him. If we don’t, someone else will. 

Vader stepped towards the compound and then immediately found himself inside. It was dark and he had the faint impression of a stifling heat surrounding him. The impression of anger and sadness returned in full force. Yellow reptilian eyes seemed to glare at him from the darkness without truly seeing him.  

At last. Found him. 

It was still too dark to see the other shifter with any clarity. He wanted to see more. He had questions and he wanted answers.

The name of the planet was whispered to him at the same time that his surroundings became unsteady and began to fade. Startled and annoyed, Vader tried to hold on to it, to force it to stay for a few moments longer but it slipped from his grasp and fell into darkness. 

Opening his eyes, Vader found himself once again on the bridge of the Devastator. He turned around and focused his attention on the admiral, who was standing silently nearby.

“I know where they are.”

Chapter Text

It took four days of political maneuvering to get the permission to move the Devastator out of its assigned location in order to go looking for the rebels. Emperor Palpatine was displeased with him and he hadn't been allowed to make contact with Coruscant. Instead, Vader had had to go through Grand Moff Tarkin and others in order to get permission to pursue his 'theory', as well as a warship that was willing to temporarily act as a replacement for his current assignment. 

Well-known as Vader was in the military, he still lacked power in certain critical areas and he hadn't gone out of his way to gain many allies who would be willing to do him a favor that could potentially mean the end of their career. Dereliction of duty in the Empire's military was a guaranteed death sentence. It didn't matter how high or low someone ranked. Regardless, Tarkin knew well enough that Vader's intuition was far more than an educated guess and had been willing to humor him. After sitting on it for a day or two, Vader finally got the permission to go and from there, it had only been a matter of waiting for the Audacious to arrive. 

Vader's patience had been stretched thin and his ability to stay calm had only been because he knew that the rebels hadn't moved locations yet. He'd been able to keep a faint but fairly consistent connection between him and the other shifter. He didn't dwell too much on why or how it was possible. Convenience was hard to find and he saw no reason to question it if and when it came along. 

It had led him here, in any case.

The planet was called Undkomma.

It was a small world that was sixty percent ocean and forty percent uninhabited forest with no known dominant, sentient species. It lacked in high demand natural resources and was generally left alone because of it, except perhaps by smugglers who used the anonymity of it to hide their cargo. And now... by the so-called rebellion. 

Small and anonymous. It was, Vader thought, a fitting place for traitors of the Empire to die. Here they would be forgotten and disappear from history with no one to remember them. If he was lucky, the leaders of the organization would be down below as well. He hoped to make a public example of them, if at all possible. A warning to others who had the gall to try and step out of line. But mostly, he was interested in finding the other shifter. He had... plans... for the conversation they were going to have. 

Vader turned his head a little to the side as Admiral Montferrat approached, interrupting his thoughts.

"Yes?" Vader asked coolly.

"We are detecting life forms on the planet below, sir." the admiral responded dutifully. "Quite a large number of them, in fact. It could very well be the rebel terrorists, as you said."

A smug smile pulled momentarily at his lips. "You sound surprised, admiral."

"No, sir." Montferrat said quickly. Vader turned fully this time, raising an eyebrow. The other man had the decency to look a little embarrassed. "Perhaps... a little." he admitted reluctantly.

Vader hummed. He was rarely impressed with Montferrat. It wasn't that he was bad at his job. He was a good officer and had risen through the ranks in a decent amount of time. Once getting the position, he had just never surpassed being adequate. He was comfortable in doing exactly what he needed to do to keep criticism at a minimum and be considered good at what he did.

There were hundreds of others exactly like him. It made him replaceable.  

Men who lacked the courage it took to be exceptional were of no real interest to Vader in the long run.  

"How would you like us to proceed, Lord Vader? We have remained undetected thus far and if we notified others in the Imperial Navy, we could surround the planet and bombard them from space. It would be easy to capture any survivors who tried to escape and our people would remain out of harms way."

It was a decent enough idea. It had merit. The rebels were not worth the blood of his men. Except,

"I do not wish to kill them all."

"Sir?"

"There is one particular rebel on the planet that I need to find," Vader turned around to face his admiral directly for the first time. "Their retrieval is of the utmost importance to me. I would also prefer that any rebellion leadership that is also present be captured alive. They will be made examples of, if possible, to deter future attempts at rebellion. You may inform the Accuser of our situation, they are the closest. The Conqueror and the Revenge can also be here in a timely manner. Their forces should be enough to prevent escape through the planet's atmosphere, as you said. When the other warships arrive, Death Squadron and I will go down to the planet and deal with the rebels ourselves."

There was a short moment of silence but his admiral was experienced enough with Vader's way of doing things that he didn't argue. Death Squadron was trained to deal with situations like these and it wasn't as if Vader wasn't asking anyone to do anything that he wasn't willing to do himself. He could sense in Montferrat's thoughts that no further opinion was required of him.

Safe.

Vader rolled his eyes as the admiral excused himself quietly. It was always the safe route with Montferrat. A disappointing character trait. Fortunately... Vader had a tendency to keep tabs on officers that he came across who seemed to have merit. There were other up and comers who, in a few years time, might be of some use to him. For now, he was resigned to working with what he had. 

After taking one last look at the planet below, Vader turned around left the bridge area to begin making his way down to the hangar bays. Death Squadron was already there and preparing for battle and there were points of information that they still needed to have if they were to be successful. Firstly, that they had no chance of actually killing the shifter - weapons weren't going to be enough and even if they were, Vader wanted him alive. Vader would deal with him personally when he made an appearance and they were to stay out of the way if possible. Death Squadron's job was to deal with the main body of the so-called rebellion and eliminate them.

Vader trusted their ability to do so and expected to be able to deal with the shifter without much issue. He wasn't willing to expose his own abilities to his men unless there was no other choice - and in forty years of living, there hadn't been a situation he'd dealt with yet that had required him to do so in order to save himself from death or harm. 

Willingly, and without the threat of danger, he had revealed himself only twice.

He had no intention of doing so ever again. 

Luke paced the length of his cage, walking a few steps and then being forced to turn around. He felt… anxious and he wasn’t certain of the cause. The feeling had been persistent for the last several days. It was different then the nightmares that haunted his sleep - different from the terror he felt inside at being forced to relive the murders he’d caused and seeing the faces of the men that he’d killed almost every night or even the chronic unease he now felt about being sent into battle again, wondering how he’d get hurt or if the next fight would be his last.

Instead… this felt like… like a dark cloud of some sort. It seemed to be everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Luke had been through hell and he didn’t think it was bragging so much as it was the straight truth to say that he knew the feeling of impending danger better than most… but at least before, it had always had a source. There had always been a reason for it. He’d never felt something like this before. 

This feeling went even deeper than instinct. It was like… some part of himself was suddenly… aware. That was the only word he had for what he was experiencing now. It had been that way ever since his mind had slipped and he’d watched his aunt and uncle despair over his fate on Tatooine. He was fairly certain that that hadn't been any hallucination from stress. It had been real. Luke hadn’t done it again once he realized that the experience had done something to him though. He wasn't certain what kind of door he had opened in his life but now the temptation to 'go home' was stronger than ever. He shouldn't have done it at all - it the broken longing that he felt was a weakness. It wouldn't help him and now he was paying a strange price for ever letting those thoughts creep in on him. 

He had tried to banish it all from his mind, tried to forget that he had done it all... but it didn’t seem to matter. The damage was done. It was like part of him was now capable of feeling and sensing more than what was in his immediate surroundings.

Luke just didn’t know what it was or how to make it stop. 

If it was even anything at all. Was this a skill that dragon shifters innately had and he was just now growing into it? Or was it something different? He couldn't say for sure and there was no one for him to ask. All he knew was that his situation was getting harder and harder to endure. 

To his best guess, it had been about two… maybe three days since his last meal and since he’d even seen a member of the Rebellion. They hadn’t abandoned him, he knew that much at least. He could feel them outside the compound where they kept him in storage, going about their business. He thought that he could even feel a hint of their thoughts flickering in the air around him whenever they got too close.

They were just ignoring him for the time being until it suited them to do otherwise. It wasn’t anything different than what he had come to expect from the Rebellion and sentients as a whole. He had no faith in anyone now.

It was gone.

Luke didn't think he could trust someone even if he wanted to. It made him feel tired inside and out until it all just blended into one great hurt. Dizziness had been toying at the edge of his mind for a while now.  

Maybe he was losing it.

Losing himself. 

Luke hesitated in his pacing as the thought that he was finally going crazy crossed his mind once again. How much of this abuse was he supposed to take before it damaged him beyond repair? No one ever came out of slavery unscathed - they could heal and move on with their lives but it left a mark that couldn’t easily be erased. Would the loss of his sanity be his mark? Was that what was happening to him now?

He closed his eyes for a long moment and took slow, controlled breaths, trying to chase the idea away. Even if it was true, there wasn’t anything he could do about it. He didn’t need despair. He didn’t need fear or hope or sadness. None of those emotions served any purpose except to make him vulnerable and weak.

He only needed anger. 

His anger would preserve his mind longer than anything else would. Anger was a human emotion. He was human. Luke didn’t deserve to be trapped or used like this. He wasn’t a tool. He wasn’t an animal. He was as real and as sentient as everyone else on this damn base was. He mattered. What was being done to him was wrong. He just needed to remember that - to remind himself that it wasn't going to be forever. He would get out of this somehow. That was the only way he could do it now... even if it was a lie, it was the only way that he could stay sane. 

A tingling sort of feeling ran through his veins as he let his anger loose and began to pace once again but with more vigor, stomping more than stepping and letting smoke billow from his nostrils in irritation. There wasn’t enough room for him to breathe fire in here and he would only burn himself in the process. He would if he could though. It was another frustration. Another freedom that was denied him.  

The dark cloud still hung heavy in the back of his mind, whispering those wordless warnings that he didn’t understand. He ignored it as best as he could - it was outside of his control. Instead, Luke abruptly decided that if he was going to be made to suffer, then everyone was going to know about it. He began to let out loud and consistent roars that echoed loudly around him, broadcasting his anger and frustration to anyone that could hear. 

The sound would carry - there were small vents that allowed air flow and his storage compound was some kind of metal. It would echo. 

Maybe he would win himself some more food if he kept it up long enough. And if it was nighttime, then at the very least he hoped that no one would be able to get any sleep.

Chapter Text

Knowing the passage of time was a luxury that Luke had been denied for such a long time. Without a consistent window or view of the outside world, it was simply impossible for him to know. It didn’t help either that the rebellion jumped planets the way that they did. There were no consistent seasons to mark the changing months by- it could be winter one day and the middle of summer the next, depending on where the rebellion chose to go into hiding. 

His existence was limited to just himself. 

Luke had stopped begging for food hours ago. His roars and then crooning's for some kind of attention had been ignored. He was resigned to making himself as comfortable as he could and waiting it all out. Usually he only had his own thoughts for company - which he’d learned a long time ago was a fast track way to feeling like he was going crazy. On his own, Luke couldn't handle it… but the apex predator in him didn’t mind solitude the same way that Luke did. 

His dual nature was the only thing that had kept him as sane as he now was - the abuse and isolation that he endured regularly might have broken him a long time ago if he was just Luke. But even as hungry and frustrated as he currently was, he didn’t feel the need to tap into that particular instinct right now. Besides... the whispered warnings of danger were still very present in the air and the… the taste? The aura… maybe, or perhaps the flickers of colors that he imagined he could see in the air that marked the emotions of some person he couldn’t see was what held his attention now. 

He was familiar enough with the scent of the higher up rebellion members to know that it was none of the people who occasionally graced him with their presence. Once he knew a smell, Luke never forgot it and it wasn’t them. Besides… this was more of an instinct than anything he could interact with with any of his finite senses.

It just felt like... something was going to happen. There was something dark in the air. A sense of foreboding. Something… something powerful and dangerous, but especially to him. More than that, it felt like something… familiar… though he couldn’t figure out why. Like he was supposed to know what the source of it all was. Luke had never felt anything like it before. All he knew was that the feeling both set him on edge and also reminded him of the desert. 

A strange thought to have, so far from home.

You’re going crazy, Skywalker, Luke thought sourly, shaking his head and letting two plumes of smoke blow from his nostrils. There was nothing that he could do about a feeling. The most he could hope for was that it was nothing at all, except his own mind playing some cruel trick on him. He was frustrated and hungry and no one on this planet gave a damn. It was enough to drive anyone insane. He hoped that they would all die miserable deaths one day. 

The emotions that he was still feeling from the members of the rebellion were fueling his anger. It was infuriating in a dark, morbid kind of way, all the things these people felt. Hundreds and thousands of them, quietly existing here, hiding out so that they could try to bring their so-called peace back to the galaxy. 

Happiness. 

Contentment. 

Resolve. 

Guilt. 

Frustration. 

Shame. 

Peace. 

Every emotion under the Suns, it seemed, except for fear. 

By the Suns, Luke wanted them to be afraid of something. It wasn’t fair that these people could be happy while they tormented him the way that they did. 

Luke remembered Uncle Owen spitting angrily about the Empire on rare occasions; he was more open about his feelings the older that Luke had gotten, overcome with frustration by the taxes that they were forced to pay to a government that only ever took and never gave anything back and had, for all intents and purposes, abandoned the outer rim entirely to lawless criminals. 

The Empire was wrong, he’d say. Using their military power as a proverbial blaster to the head of every sentient individual in the galaxy. Forced compliance to the rule of law or death otherwise. 

Luke had always believed him. 

Why wouldn’t he? Owen was older and knew more than he did about things like that at the time. 

But… he’d been away from home for a long time now and had his own experiences to mull over. And Luke had felt more free under the Empire than he did by any of these people claiming to fight against it. Stealing the freedom of some to guarantee the freedom of others wasn’t particularly righteous, in his unwanted opinion. At least the Empire was honest about what they did. They just didn’t care what anyone thought about it. So… with all due respect to Uncle Owen… Luke thought being ignored and at least being given a choice on whether or not to stand up to crime lords was a much better option than being shoved in a cage and forced to fight for liberation. 

Personally, Luke wouldn’t mind seeing a blaster held to the head of every member of the rebellion and seeing how much they liked it. Let them all get down on their knees and be forced to beg for their lives or for some measly scrap of food. They didn’t know what true oppression was. 

A period of time passed; Luke was too tired to pace and too hungry to sleep. The pains in his empty stomach were sharp and miserable and his head was pounding as a result. He tried to relax, despite the fact that it was nearly impossible. He was just too cramped. 

Luke closed his eyes anyways, know through experience that sleep would come eventually. He just needed to stop thinking for a little bit; just need to forget about the tension and uncertainty and strange whispers of darkness and - 

DANGER.

The warning shot through his thoughts like a burst of fire in a starless night. Luke lifted his head, startled. The quiet flickers of emotions from people outside his little compound changed from relative contentedness to genuine surprise and then almost immediately terror. Somewhere on the base, an emergency alarm began blaring and when Luke looked upwards, his sensitive hearing barely catching the sound of the rumbling of engines outside. Spacecraft?

That wasn't good.

Luke supposed it was true what they said... you better be careful what you wished for. He hadn't wanted the rebellion to experience peace... but neither did he think that misfortune would smile upon them so quickly either. A loud explosion sounded outside at the same moment that the door to his holding compound flew open with a crash, sending adrenaline racing through his body. Luke narrowed his eyes and curled his lips back so that his teeth were visible as some person came running inside towards him, red and blue and green lights flashing chaotically behind him. 

The sound of the locking mechanisms that kept him contained inside his beskar cage being unlocked brought him to his feet, his senses on high alert. He slowly stepped outside of his cage, feeling achy and sore and overly aware of the fear and determination that was suddenly saturating the air. 

“Get out and do something!" the man shouted.

Luke curled his lip once again, glaring daggers at the little ant who dared to command him… but he spied the electric prod that the man held in his hand and shook away the thought of acting out. It wouldn’t end well and perhaps if he fought well enough against this threat, maybe he would actually eat later. With that pathetic hope in mind, Luke stepped forward, his eyes quickly adjusting to the slight increase of light and breathed in fresh air for the first time in days.

It was quickly apparent that this was no ordinary battle.

He had engaged in fairly large battles during his time with the main body of the rebellion but nothing like this. This was a full-on assault - not just an enemy base, either but an entire fleet of soldiers. There was the whistling of countless aircraft in the air and the lightshow of photon blasters that exploded into view told him that there was an air battle taking place as well as the ground assault itself. He could hear the metallic whir of other artillery on the ground, making its way towards the base from nearly all directions. 

The morning was still young and the sun had yet to make its appearance for the day - the dim lighting, combined with the forest coverage, would make it difficult for others to see where the phase of attackers would come from. 

Luke could tell within seconds that the Empire had come to put an end to all of this. Even at his full-strength, Luke couldn't save the rebellion from this. A sharp electric shock to one of his hind legs had him hissing in anger; doomed though they might be, these people were going to make him try regardless. 

Sucking in a breath of air, Luke let loose a loud roar of anger, successfully startling some but mostly drawing attention to himself. He was immediately pelted with blaster fire from long range rifles - they packed more of a punch than a normal blaster would but did little to cause him any significant damage. At most, it was annoying and it did a good job of increasing his foul mood. 

The instincts of his dragon immediately began to take over, his fierce desire to survive overcoming Luke's own human frailties. He saw red, understanding that this wasn't just about protecting his masters - his own mortality was at risk here. Protecting them was protecting himself now and that was all that mattered. 

Drawing on a well of strength that he wouldn't have had otherwise, Luke lunged forward, deceptively fast for his large size, and grabbed ahold of the first armored Imperial that he could reach with his teeth and then shook him hard. It was more than enough to snap his spine entirely and Luke quickly dropped the remains and moved on to the others, scattering them all like womp rats.  

They shouted orders to each other, several squadrons of men working to flank him from different directions. Let them try, Luke thought viciously. He didn't bother trying to grab them all - instead, he spun, using his tail to swat lines of men harshly out of the way and send them flying backwards into a nearby building structure. Somewhere in the back of his mind, it felt like there were little lights blinking out of existence around him and the feeling of it was irritating, like the presence of a small swarm of flies.

Still. Luke saw that a few of the Imperials managed to get up again - their armor must be a good quality because that did not happen very often - but then he was moving on to defend a group of rebels that were being backed into a corner and in serious danger of being overtaken. He interjected himself between them, taking the shots that would have killed them and then turning on the enemy, biting and slashing and killing, killing, killing - 

He couldn't keep track and didn't hardly dare - he would hate himself for it later if by some chance they survived this. 

Everywhere he turned, there were more people to contend with. Rebels and Imperials alike were falling every few seconds and the scent of blood was strong in the air. Overhead, explosions sounded loudly from fighter ships that were being taken out, the fireballs of destruction lighting up parts of the sky and raining destruction below. 

He was aware of the smell of both burning flesh and that of plants of foliage catching on fire somewhere in the forest.

Luke felt himself stop, his sides heaving and he tried to draw in gulps of air as a different sound caught his attention once again.

The metallic squealing of something large moving on two legs. A familiar sound that had haunted his dreams for weeks. 

An AT-ST. 

Luke felt his heart begin to pound and he tensed, his muscles tight and coiled in anticipation of terrible pain. He turned as the first machine came into view from the surrounding forest and then hissed, squaring up with it as much as he could and baring his teeth in anger. He kept his wings close to his body, wary of them being shot. Last time the AT-ST had only broken bones, not his skin, but his wings were much thinner and more delicate than the rest of him. 

If the plasma bolts from such heavy artillery blew holes in them, Luke doubted that he would ever fly again. 

He hesitated, trying to quickly think of the best way to act. Powerful as these things were, they did move slowly and had a limited sort of mobility. His best chance to avoid getting hurt was to move quickly and take it down from the side, knocking it over and crushing the twin blaster cannons before they could be used on him or anyone else. 

Before he could act, a sharp electric shock tore his hind leg and it gave out underneath him. Luke bellowed in anger and pain, turning around awkwardly to see who was harming him. To his frustration and anger, it was one of the rebels, impatiently and fearfully trying to encourage him to engage in the fight and protect them from the AT-ST. Before he could have the chance to even try get his leg underneath him again, the harrowing sound of a blaster cannon sounded just seconds before he felt the impact against him. 

Luke hit the ground hard, pain erupting along his side as his bones shattered under the assault. The breath was stolen from his lungs and it seemed for a moment that all sound around him had stopped completely. The world was spinning, people and images flashing in front of his eyes in chaotic, hazy, and broken fragments.

I want to go home, he thought miserably. 

Then the shock collar around his neck was activated and all sound returned in a clap of what seemed like thunder. He whimpered a pathetic sound, feeling like his lungs couldn’t fully expand. Everything hurt and damn it, they didn't need to hurt him. 

“Get up, you stupid beast!” 

The pain stopped and Luke moved on instinct but it was slow. It took a what seemed like forever to try and find his feet through the waves of pain. All he knew was that he could feel his broken bones grinding against each other and had he been human, he would have sobbed aloud.

Instead, his dragon pushed through the torment, his steady determination to survive superseding Luke's frail and pathetic human weaknesses. He didn't have the strength to keep fighting like this. He wouldn't be able to keep it up for long now, not hurt the way that he was. All Luke knew was that he might die or be killed by the rebellion’s cruelty but by the Suns, if it was the last thing he did, he would die on his feet. Every other dignity had been stolen from him - but he wasn't going to die in the dirt like an actual animal. 

He looked up, preparing to stare the AT-ST down before it shot him again - but to his surprise... it had turned away from him and was moving on. Luke watched, his muscles trembling from weakness and his sides heaving, as it began a new attack on a stationary artillery bunker that was actively firing into the air at the TIE-fighters that were chasing X-wings. There were other AT-ST's making their appearance but none of them were coming his direction... and on the ground around him, the rebels he had been protecting had grown even more startled and were shouting at each other to retreat. 

A different sound caught Luke's attention, one that he had never heard before. 

It was... almost like the intense hum of electricity being swung through the air, crackling and hissing in rageful ferocity. He barely had time to register it before he simultaneously recognized the sudden advancement of the darkness he'd sensed from earlier. It was so intense and powerful up close that Luke would not have been surprised if it possessed the strength to block out the sun entirely. 

He turned, knowing with perfect certainty that it had come for him.  

The sight which greeted him terrified him.

It was a man. 

A tall man, dressed in all black, and wearing a cape that many high ranking Imperials seemed to favor. He must be someone important. Someone dangerous, if he ranked so high but still came down to the battlefield in person. 

Luke watched him for a moment, his sides still heaving as he fought to catch his breath. Every breath of air he took felt like inhaling razorblades. The pain he was in suddenly felt like the very least of his concerns though. This other man moved with a deadly sort of grace, however, cutting through entire throngs of people in a brutal yet elegant way with a red laser sword, the likes of which Luke had never seen or heard of before. He was a killer all the way to his core - competent and deadly and completely unafraid of anything around him.

The same could not be said for the rebels that were fleeing from the man as if he were death personified. 

Luke tensed as a warning shock of electricity sparked to life around his neck once again. The setting had been turned on painfully high, making Luke stumble in surprise and hurt. The moment it stopped, he tensed, trying to convince himself to move forward and kill this new opponent, like he’d been told… but he couldn’t. It was only one man, his laser sword notwithstanding... but something inside of Luke absolutely refused to advance. 

There was something different about this man - something dark and powerful and full of rage. Luke knew, probably better than anyone, that looks were deceiving. As a dragon, Luke towered easily over the rebels that kept him enslaved. Most of them barely reached his shoulder. If this man was closer than Luke would have towered over him too.

Except that some whisper of warning, some instinct that he’d never felt before, warned him that this man was far, far bigger than he was.

It scared him, even more than the AT-ST's scared him.

Machines were nothing - unfeeling, impersonal tools. That there were some in the galaxy that had the capacity to damage him was always a given. It had only taken him a while to encounter one, once the Empire had wised up about how to deal with him. But a person - a living person, seemingly no different from any other... no man had ever scared him before. Not like this. 

Kept him under control, pissed him off, used him and treated him like he was nothing, absolutely. But men - men - had only ever inspired anger in him. 

This was a stark sort of terror that had Luke absolutely convinced that he didn't want anything to do with this person, now or ever. 

The other shifter was before him at last and all the experience on the battlefield in the galaxy could not stop the sudden sense of marvel that Vader felt at seeing another for the very first time. 

It didn't last very long though. The situation before him quickly made itself apparent and the frustration and anger he had felt towards this other Child of the Desert Suns for breaking the Law ebbed and waned. The Force was filled with his apprehension and refusal - an instinctual fear of Vader himself already preventing him from being willing to engage in the fight any longer, despite the fact that he was being forcibly shocked with powerful volts of electricity. 

Even in the dim lighting of the early morning, Vader could see that his scales were dull and lifeless and his ribcage was perfectly visible. The other shifter was weak and outmatched and he knew it. If the dragon continued to fight in the condition that he was in, he would kill himself. The anger and rage that surrounded him would only take him so far and Vader imagined that he had been surviving off of it for a very long time. 

This was not a willing alliance like Vader had originally supposed. This was abuse and maltreatment - forced compliance with an unwilling participant. The other shifter didn't want to kill anyone anymore than he wanted to be here. 

The indignity of it all made Vader's blood boil in a way that it hadn't in a very long time. 

With a rush of power, Vader threw the closest rebels around him out of the way like the trash that they were, trusting that his men would watch his back for a few seconds. He had had a plan for dealing with the shifter and capturing him alive and he stepped forward, reaching out in the Force so that he could drive him to the ground and pin him place before putting him under. Force sensitive, he might be, but Vader knew untrained talent when he encountered it and this shifter had no training whatsoever.

Except... for the briefest moment, their eyes met and all the chaos around them seemed to freeze entirely. The young dragons' sides were heaving and a distinct impression of pain was terribly evident in the Force. His reptilian eyes were yellow - the color of a Sith - but in a flash of understanding, Vader realized that the anger in them was nothing but a front. A shield. A protection against the only pain that could be controlled. 

Whispering echoes of the Force vision that had led him here came back to the forefront of his mind - Vader hadn’t cared about the smaller details at the time. But now, looking at his quarry, he couldn’t help but remember and understand now what it had really meant.

More than anything, the child before him was just that. He was just a child. Vader could see the youth in his terrified eyes. He was frightened and scared and desperate to survive. 

...I’m trapped, I’m trapped, why can’t I change back?! Help me, someone help me!...

A strange, long-dead instinct to protect slowly flickered to life inside of him, like a small flame of fire breathing its first breath.

Vader took another step forward and in an instant, the young dragon made a strangled sound of pain as another brief spark of electricity came to life from a shock collar around his throat. The dragon stumbled, breaking eye contact as he shook his massive head in a desperate attempt to make it stop. Vader felt his lip curl at the abuse and could not see who it was that was causing it. 

The faint little thread of light in the Force that he had been monitoring for the last couple of days seemed a tad bit brighter than it had been and for the first time... an idea… a small, impossible idea… crossed his mind. 

He didn't want to entertain it, not even for a second. It couldn't be true... and yet... what were the odds? 

It was a small effort to undo the thick collar and free the other dragon of his most immediate torment. 

The electricity that was ripping its way through his body, demanding that he act and protect his masters from harm stopped in an instant, leaving a strange ringing sound in his ears. The heavy weight of the collar suddenly slipped from his throat and Luke stumbled to the side, barely recognizing the absence of it and feeling like he couldn't see straight. The world around him was spinning and spinning and spinning and all he knew was that if he went down again, he wouldn't be getting back up. No amount of coercion could override all the damage that had been done to him at this point.

All he knew was that everything felt far away.

Go! A foreign voice snapped at him. 

Luke struggled to draw adequate breath, unable to breathe more than shallow gasps for air but when he looked around to see where he would be directed next, there was no sign of any of his handlers. In fact, it seemed like all the rebels in the immediate vicinity were being overtaken. 

Go, the voice hissed at him again. Get out of here.

He turned his head, belatedly remembering the opponent he was supposed to take down... but the Imperial with the laser sword had turned away from him, reengaging in the fight with other rebels, cutting them down ruthlessly and with a vengeful sort of ferocity that hadn't been present even just moments ago. It felt like he was being granted a strange sort of mercy and Luke took a step backwards in response. 

The sounds of shouting and fighting and all manner of weaponry being fired sounded loud and horrible all around him. He could hear the creaking groans of AT-ST's as they moved and fired at the rebel base. The sound made his blood run cold, spurring him to move faster and get as far from here as he could. 

He didn't make it more than forty or fifty yards before a rebel came darting towards him. The scent of desperation was thick in the air surrounding him. 

"Attack them!" he demanded, the authority in his voice doing little to mask the panic he was feeling. It was the same man from earlier - the one that had shocked him and caused him to get shot. Luke paused, learned instinct making him hesitate when all he wanted to do was get the hell out of here. All of it was crumbling. They were losing and there was nothing that any of them could do about it. The Empire was too strong this time. 

The man didn't hesitate, plunging the electric prod he was still holding in his hand against Luke's leg again and he felt his muscles tense up as the stinging electricity coursed through his body again. Then it stopped just as quickly and the little man was shouting.

"Save us! We need -" the electric prod struck his leg once more. "You - you," and again. "-have to get back in there! Save us, you stupid -" 

And something… something inside of Luke finally snapped. 

In a moment of blinding hatred, Luke turned, striking fast and grabbed the wretched little ant with his teeth and bit down hard. The crunching of his bones breaking and shattering under his bite force was the most satisfying thing he’d known in a long time. Luke shook him hard, growling fiercely and listening as the man's screams turned into gurgles of pain and then still didn’t stop, wanting him to suffer. He wanted him to know - to feel exactly how much Luke despised him, to understand at least a fragment of the pain and suffering that these people had forced him to endure. 

Fresh blood pooled in his mouth and the starving part of him relished the taste - craved it desperately, even - but the rational part refused to consider this skrag as food. 

Even if he was willing to resort to cannibalism to satiate his hunger, which he wasn’t, not just yet - Luke still drew the line at eating garbage. 

He bit down, using his sharp teeth to puncture additional holes throughout the rebels body and then, with all the mental strength he possessed, Luke dropped the remains on the ground, watching for a short second as the mangled, broken man twitched. Pathetic gasps of air escaped from his mouth as he quickly died. His shock and pain was lingering in the air and Luke could only think that it was exactly what he and every other rebel on this base deserved. 

Turning away from the Imperials, Luke turned to face the rebels, who were all staring at him with dumbstruck horror and then reared back on his hind legs, sucking in as much air, feeling his insides begin to burn and then expelling all of it in loud, fearsome roar that contained all the hatred he held inside of him alongside a mad rush of fire. 

The screaming and smell of rapidly burning flesh lit up the air and then without waiting to see who had escaped his flames or what would happen as a consequence, Luke turned and fled from them. His masters would have to detonate the transmitters they'd implanted inside his body if they wanted to stop him because if Luke had his way, then he wasn’t ever coming back.

The Rebellion could save themselves this time.

“Shall... shall we prepare to pursue, Lord Vader?”

“No, let him go,” Vader snapped on instinct, throwing a hand out to stop his men that were operating the AT-ST’s in their tracks. They did and he watched with narrowed eyes as the young desert dragon quickly disappeared into the nearby forest, fire and smoke blooming in his wake. 

He wanted answers to his questions. It would have to be enough for now to know that he would get them soon.

“Sir?” 

“I will deal with the dragon later,” Vader turned away, setting his eyes instead on the rebels who had already been captured and forced to kneel at blaster point. The dragon had eliminated a fair number of them and the rest were being rounded up and executed. He flexed his grip on his lightsaber and let himself breathe in their fear and hatred of him. An unkind smile pulled at his lips. “He will not get far and there is work to do here.”

Chapter Text

It was another hour after the disappearance of the desert dragon before Vader and his forces were able to end the fight with the rebels. To their small credit, they had fought bravely - but they had been caught off guard and were both outnumbered and outclassed. Those that hadn’t been killed in the fiery blaze left behind as a parting gift by their prisoner, or who hadn’t escaped through the atmosphere, were forced to surrender or else die. 

From there, it was only the process of rounding them all up, securing them, and beginning the task of finding and identifying the leaders which remained. The men under his command were elated, proclaiming, perhaps prematurely, the end of the rebellion. Vader felt no need to dissuade them from their hopes - they had won a victory today. A significant blow to the rebel forces had been struck and he had a feeling that their time was nearing its end. 

Good. 

It meant that he would be able to focus his attention on far more important things moving forward; like removing the Emperor from his throne. This victory now should be enough to put him back in Sidious’ good graces, perhaps long enough that his master would not feel it necessary to keep him under such close observation as he had hitherto been doing. Long enough for Vader to finish healing and regain the strength he needed to put an end to Sidious’ tyranny forever.  

To say that he was impatient was an understatement.

One thing at a time though.

There was the matter of gross tyranny and oppression taking place right here among the so-called freedom fighters of the galaxy that he felt compelled to address first. Vader had not come here for vengeance on behalf of the other shifter at all… but the condition that the young desert dragon had been in and the revelation that his situation was born out of forced compliance made him particularly angry. 

Nothing about this situation was what he had thought he would be walking into. He did not have much compassion left inside of him to spare on anyone… but an enslaved child was hitting a little too close to home. 

Vader had found, after some searching, where the rebels had kept him. 

In a cage. 

Tucked away out of sight where no one would have to see. 

The younger dragon had spent a long time in this pathetic little space - long enough for his emotions to be imprinted in the Force. 

Misery. Hatred. Anger. Hunger. 

Vader’s thoughts and memories of his own unfortunate past were interrupted by the appearance of one of his men. He was sweaty and out of sorts, like most of them were in the aftermath of the battle.

“Lord Vader, sir!” the young officer greeted, stopping to salute him.

“Speak,” Vader commanded, dipping his head once in acknowledgment. 

“Yes sir,” he took a moment to catch his breath. “General Praji found and identified one of the rebel leaders. It is General Cracken, sir. The rebellion's chief of intelligence. General Praji wanted you to be notified as soon as possible.”

The chief of intelligence. 

If there was a man or woman among the rebel alliance, the chief of intelligence would be one of the first of them to know where the recently acquired Death Star plans were. An incredibly fortunate find for the Empire. 

“Show me.”

A few minutes later, Vader found himself standing before a small group of captured rebels. They glared at him with defiance in their eyes but were wise enough to hold their tongues in his presence. They were angry and tired, mourning the loss of their friends and co-conspirators against the Empire… and afraid for their own lives. 

A middle-aged human was removed from the group. Vader forced him to his knees, holding him in place. 

“Lord Vader,” General Cracken spat at him. 

“General,” Vader replied mildly. “Where are the Death Star plans?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Maintaining eye contact, Vader curled his fist very minutely and a sharp crack split their air. The rebel closest to Cracken dropped to the ground, his neck broken. Gasps and whispers of fear exploded in the Force. Cracken himself seemed frozen, his mouth hanging open in shock.

“The Death Star plans,” Vader prompted, when the silence stretched longer than he wanted. "You have eight other men with you, General Cracken. Who else should be offered up as a sacrifice while you make up your mind about whether or not to return what you stole?" 

"No one," Cracken said dumbly, almost too quiet to be heard. 

Vader broke another rebels neck, letting him fall to the ground with a disturbingly dead thud. 

"No one! I said no one, dammit!" Cracken snapped in panic. 

"Then where are the plans?"

"They - they're on Tatooine! A droid has them!"

Vader curled his fist around a third rebels throat, cutting off his air supply. "Be more specific than that," he warned impatiently. "There are many droids on Tatooine."

Cracken stared at his panicking subordinate and then turned back to him desperately. "It's a blue R2 unit. He was tasked to find someone on the planet. A - a man, someone called Ben!"

"Ben who?" 

"I don't know! Only General Organa knew his full name! I swear! I swear, that's the truth!"

It was the truth. Vader could sense it in the Force. 

He snapped the choking man's throat and let him fall to the ground.

"Your cooperation is appreciated, General Cracken. Your surviving men thank you for your disloyalty to the rebellion and you have my promise that they will live long enough to be executed in a more formal setting. Leave us," he commanded, gesturing for his men to take the other rebels away. "I wish to speak to General Cracken alone for a moment."

He waited until they had departed a safe distance away, where he was certain his words would not be heard. Then he turned his attention back to General Cracken. Vader's physical appearance itself was already off-putting on its own but he had the ability to evoke a certain kind of terror when he really allowed himself to be angry. He let that anger appear in his eyes now, drawing the dark side in close. Cracken shivered as he did so, his fear increasing tenfold as some primitive part of him recognized a predator.  

"I... I have nothing else to say to you," he said boldly. 

“You have plenty to tell me. And you will, in time, if you survive the interrogations. But tell me this first,” Vader said dangerously, stepping forward to tower over the man more fully. “General Cracken… with morals such as yours, how do you justify enslaving a child? I’m curious to know where that fits into your so-called ideals.”

The general had the audacity to look surprised. “What - what are you talking about?”

“The beast that you have forced to do your bidding. The one that breathes fire.”

An even more bewildered look appeared on Cracken’s face - but there was a sliver of guilt deep in his conscience as well. It might as well have been a flashing neon sign that read ‘GUILTY’. “It - the beast is just that. A beast.”

Vader felt an unkind smile pull at his lips. “Liar,” he said with a calm that was deadlier than outright rage could ever be. “He is sentient. As much as you and I are. You and everyone else on this base are aware of it.”

Cracken shook his head in adamant denial. “No. No. The beast is an animal. If the legends were real, then it would shift to a human form but it can’t. It never has. The legends and myths surrounding the creature were just that - myths.”

Funny, the ways that terror and guilt could make someone forget to be surprised. General Cracken didn't even blink an eye or question why Vader would know of something so obscure as the myth of the Tatooine dragon.

He was restrained, somewhat, but his own unwillingness to speak of things that the Desert and her people had declared forbidden. However, a shapeshifter was not outside the realm of possibility in a galaxy that was as large and diverse as theirs was. There was nothing that could connect him to such things - and he had no desire to bring attention to himself in that way either. The selfish part of himself  wanted everyone who’d taken part in enslaving a child in the name of so-called freedom to know exactly what they had done. 

It would be a better punishment than death.

“Feigned ignorance will not protect you. The beast is a child,” Vader said instead, humming with cold indifference. He took satisfaction in the sick feeling of fear that peppered Cracken’s mind as the truth was thrown in his face. “Frightened and alone. I could sense it in his thoughts - underneath all his rage and anger… he misses his home and his family.”

“T-that’s not - that can’t be true,” Cracken insisted, a little too desperately. It was far too late for remorse now, Vader thought furiously. 

“It is. But no matter,” he shrugged, before stepping forward. It was a small enjoyment, watching the way that the general stiffened in anticipation of pain. Vader didn’t harm him though - he brought him back up to his feet and then searched his person until he found what he had been looking for. A detonator for a transmitter. Kept conveniently close, in his front chest pocket. “He won’t have gone very far. It seems that you made sure of that.”

Cracken stared at the detonator, swallowing thickly. Then his eyes met Vader’s. “What - what will you do to him?”

“Whether I kill him or treat him as you have, that is no longer any concern of yours.” Vader said dismissively. He turned and gestured to his own men that were waiting a polite distance away, holding the detonator loosely in his hand. “Take him to the Devastator with the others. I have no further need for him right now.”

Luke did not know how far into the forest he had fled but he pushed his damaged body as far as it was willing to take him. Far enough, that the sounds of the battle taking place behind him became distant and where the smell of death and fear could no longer reach him. 

He only stopped when a strange whisper of warning flickered in his thoughts. 

Danger. 

Luke slowed to a stop, his chest heaving. His whole body was trembling, with adrenaline and pain alike. The heavy collar that had long helped to keep him in check was gone… but the transmitters were not, he remembered wildly. He was never certain of the parameters that had been given to him. He suspected the range was altered, depending on what the rebels had needed him for, but they had never explicitly told him.

He had always been mindful to remain close enough to one of his ‘handlers’ in a battle for it to have never been an issue. No one could have anticipated what had occurred tonight though. Nor would anyone have had time to change them. He was certain the area to which he was restricted would be small. 

He held still, waiting for the fight or flight response he was experiencing to abate. It did so - slowly - but as the minutes passed by, his mind began to grow calmer and calmer. His body didn’t stop trembling - it was too damaged for that - but he could think beyond ‘run’ and ‘don’t stop’. 

How strange… to be alone like this. No one was watching him anymore. No one was around to keep him under control. To demand that he fight and kill for them. To force him back inside a small cage until he could be useful once again. 

It felt… dangerous and thrilling… to be so... so free. He wasn’t certain what to do with the autonomy. 

Or even how long it would last. 

Luke looked around, his surroundings unfamiliar and strange to him. Trees that towered over him. Plants, dirt, bushes - so much green. The earth was damp under his feet, his claws sinking into it easily, without any resistance. He could smell water - it surrounded him more abundantly than any far corner of Tatooine he’d explored in his youth. It was everything - in the air, in the ground - there were even little droplets resting freely on the leaves of the foliage that surrounded him.

It was almost magical.

Almost. 

He was in a lot of pain. Every breath he took felt like inhaling fire and Luke knew that if he allowed himself to lay down, he wouldn’t be getting up again anytime soon. He couldn’t stay out here, exposed, the way that he was. 

Someone was bound to come looking for him at some point. He wasn’t certain who - but he was certain that this freedom wouldn’t last if he wasn’t smart. Turning away from the faint sense of ‘danger’ that lingered in the air around him, Luke walked a different path, deeper into the forest. There were thousands of unfamiliar smells and sounds surrounding him, making him feel tense and wary for the unfamiliarity of them. It felt like there were a thousand different eyes on him, watching him. The thought made his skin crawl. 

It was a combination of his senses that led him to a large underground den. It was surprisingly spacious. And empty, by the smell of it, though not uninhabited.

It would work for now.

Luke pulled his wings close to his body and then curled up tight at the very back of it, wrapping his spiked tail around himself. He would be safe here for a while. …but much as he tried, he couldn’t bring himself to relax. His eyes remained focused intently on the entrance, watching for any hint or sign of movement. Every sound from outside made him flinch. He was shaking, trembling - unable to stop no matter how much he willed himself to. 

The battle kept flashing in front of his eyes. Phantoms sound and smells lingering at the edges of his mind. Men being shot and killed by overwhelming forces that even Luke couldn’t keep up with. 

The AT-ST’s. 

The strange man with the laser sword. 

Blood. Death. The feeling of the rebel that he’d torn apart and the taste of his blood on his tongue.

...the fact that eating another person had crossed his mind...

It was a long, long time before he was finally able to fall asleep.

Luke woke up again sometime later to the sound of something shuffling just outside the entrance to his den. It took a moment for his brain to catch up - his thoughts were groggy and slow, surrounded by a thick fog of exhaustion. But then the predator in him caught up and instinct took over. He lifted his head, narrowing his eyes as adrenaline shot through his body once more. 

There was no light filtering in from the entrance to his den now but his night vision kept things perfectly visible. He could hear the sound of wind blowing fiercely outside and understood that there was rain coming - he could smell the ozone in the air. 

But even closer than that was the musky scent of… of something that was far too close for comfort. Every planet he'd been on had smells that he didn't recognize and he rarely had the chance to figure them out. There was no time for that kind of stuff on a battlefield and little opportunity from the confines of his cage. 

Predators, Luke realized after a moment. The owners of the den that he had claimed as his own, no doubt. He felt a cold anger run through his body, and a low, angry warning growl escaped his maw. His body ached and protested as he pulled himself to his feet, muscles tense. He stepped forward towards the entrance slowly, breathing in another breath of air.

Pack animals - their scent was the same as that which lingered in the den. They were lingering outside, obviously aware of him and angry for the intrusion of another predator in what must be their territory. 

No… his.

The dark thought crossed his mind with ruthless uncaring. 

Luke stepped outside the entrance to the den, letting his wings unfurl as soon as they had the room to do so, making himself larger and more intimidating. His dragon was ready to fight and kill or chase out anyone who sought to hurt him.

The creatures that had woken him up were frozen now at the very sight of him. There were over ten of them; Luke had never seen anything like them before. They were tall, lanky things, with long legs... four each, but no tail. Wiry and powerful looking. Their paws, for lack of a better word, ended in wicked looking claws. Short fur of varying colors, long, sharp teeth, ears, and a squashed looking face. Four eyes. Effective hunters, no doubt. 

For a human sentient… he suspected that they might have been difficult to deal with. 

They were nothing to him though.

Luke snorted in irritation, plumes of smoke rising from his nostrils as he glared his warning at the pack creatures. They growled back at him, their hackles rising… but after a few seconds, they turned around and began to slink away, disappearing into the night. 

Animals were smarter than sentients; like the native creatures back home on Tatooine, these beasts knew when they were outclassed.

Even when he was at his weakest, Luke was still bigger and stronger than they were.

If they would respect him, he would respect them. If not….

He waited for a long time to make sure that they were truly gone. When their scent had mostly faded, he finally allowed himself to relax a little. Lifting his head, Luke looked around a little, listening for other signs of life and watching the skies for lights to appear, indicating someone's search for him. To his relief, there were none.

Only dark clouds silently were sweeping across the night sky. Luke watched them, mesmerized despite himself. He had seen clouds before. Many times. On other planets, in other circumstances. But he’d never had the chance to enjoy the novelty of them. Being stolen and enslaved, forced to earn his right to survival, took precedence over everything else.

He had never had the chance to breathe in the smell of rain and ozone… or even feel the drops of water hit his skin after falling from the sky. He should return to his rest… but Luke waited now, listening to thunder trembling overhead and the wind whistling through the branches of the trees, for the first droplets to fall. 

After a few more minutes, he felt the first droplets hitting his scales. Slowly, at first, and then with increasing rapidity. He could feel the coolness of the rain even through the heat of his own body. He stepped a little further outside, until he was entirely exposed. Then he sat down and closed his eyes, breathing deeply.

Everything was quiet and… he was free. For the first time in a long time.

If he had had the ability, Luke would have smiled.

Hours later, after he had rested for some time and when the worst of the storm had passed, Luke left his den, and after marking the area as ‘his’ found a stream of clean, flowing water. He was able to drink his fill, quenching a terrible thirst. When he finished, he carefully shook himself out, mindful of his injuries, and then flexed his wings. He felt the weight of his horns and his mane of spines and then dropped himself into a low forward facing bow and stretched his legs, gouging the dirt with his claws. 

It felt like a luxury.

But he could marvel over it later, after he had eaten.

Luke had never done much hunting. When he’d still been able to shift into his human form, he had certainly experimented as a teenager - it was hard to be able to shift and not at least try. His dragon didn’t mind the taste of raw flesh, but at the end of the day, Luke had preferred his meat cooked.

That had been years ago. Raw meat and animal carcasses had been all that was offered him. He had been forced to advance far beyond his privileged, youthful mindset and it no longer mattered. He was hungry now. 

Starving.

The hunger that he had learned to tune out was not something he could ignore now. No one was going to feed him out here. 

It was time to hunt. 

It took a while for him to find something - any prey animals that had any survival instincts at all would have fled this part of the forest because of the battle at the rebel base. The fighting and slaughter that had taken place and the smell of death that had been left behind would keep them far away. He was forced to travel farther into the forest - moving slowly and hoping he would have that same instinct when he was wandering too far and avoid setting off a transmitter. 

An uncomfortable tingle seemed to run up and down his spine with every step that he took… but he needed to eat. After a few exhausting hours of searching… Luke finally found something. A small herd of herbivores - grazing quietly in a small meadow. They were strange looking things - six long, nimble looking legs and four eyes each. Some of them had horns sticking up out of their heads and others didn't. 

His stomach grumbled at the sight of them. He could hear the faint pounding of their hearts and could smell the blood rushing through their bodies.

Luke stepped closer, heart pounding in anticipation, trying to be quiet… he set his eyes on one of the larger ones… and then when he could bear the anticipation of it no longer, he lunged. 

…he missed. 

He missed - and the - the damn thing bolted, sprinting off into the cover of the trees with the rest of its herd. Luke watched them go, his sides heaving as he tried to catch his breath. 

After a few minutes, a cold, angry sort of rage came over him and Luke turned, slashing with his claws, tearing up dirt and trees and spewing angry flames of fire into the air. He snarled, screaming his anger. 

He was hurt. He was tired and he was hungry after enduring years of never getting enough to eat. Missing a meal, now that he was on his own and fending for himself, wasn't an option. He couldn’t be weak. 

Narrowing his eyes, Luke took a moment to breathe and then let himself sink - deep, deep into the mind of his dragon, until his human mind and his ability to think rationally was almost blotted out entirely by the raw instincts of the monster that he had been turned into. It was a place that he had spent a lot of time in over the last few years - or however long it had been since Freedom. Everything was so much easier to deal with when he couldn’t quite spin the thoughts together to think injustice - only survive. 

It used to scare him, going so deep - he was always afraid that he wouldn’t be able to pull himself out again and that there would be nothing left of who he had been… but… Luke supposed that practice really did make perfect. His dragon was stronger than he was. Even though they were technically one and the same, it still tolerated abuse better than he could.

As he sank, everything around him became sharper. Clearer. Every chirp of a cricket, every whisper of the wind through the leaves of the trees. He could detect two separate water sources, though one was fresher and cleaner than the other. Smaller animals, too - hiding in the bushes and trees and in their nests underground. 

They wouldn’t be enough to satisfy him and so he dismissed the idea of them.

He needed something bigger. Something that could put a dent in his hunger. Something that would bleed and hurt and give him sustenance. Breathing deeply, reptilian eyes glinting in the sunlight, Luke stood perfectly still, waiting… waiting… until a faint breeze drifted by, carrying the scent of his prey on it. 

There. 

His body was large but this time every miniscule movement of it was calculated and calm. He moved slowly through the trees and brush, tracking it patiently. He didn’t make any noise. There was only the distant pounding of his prey’s heart; music in his ears. It meant that he would eat soon. 

This time, when he went for the kill, he didn’t miss. Out of respect and appreciation for the life he was taking in order to sustain his own, Luke made sure the beast did not suffer.

He tore into it and devoured the entire thing, wasting nothing.

The next few days passed by in a similar haze - Luke, too far into the mind of his dragon to think beyond the need to protect himself and survive. He avoided the base entirely; there was nothing there that interested him and if anyone still remained, he had no desire to be seen or draw any attention towards himself… but the immediate area surrounding it became 'his'. The predators whose den he’d stolen came back only once more but then fled just as quickly when Luke killed and ate two of them for daring to encroach on his territory.

Luke had not seen any sign of them since then. 

There were no sign of his masters or of the Empire coming to look for him but even as his certainty that the rebels had been defeated increased, so too, did the feeling that he was not out of danger. Occasionally, there was that strange, flickering sense of someone else watching him. It set his dragon on edge whenever he felt it and Luke knew, deep down, that it was only a matter of time. 

Chapter Text

Strength was returning to his body. 

Slowly.

But it was returning. 

The dizziness which had plagued him during his last remaining days with the rebels was no longer tormenting him. Luke had been spending a large portion of his new freedom sleeping in his underground den, allowing his damaged body the much needed opportunity it needed to rest and heal. He ventured out mostly in the late evenings to hunt: resorting back to his old childhood habit of only coming out in the safety of the night, in order to try and avoid unwanted detection. 

He had been mostly successful in each of his hunts so far, much to his satisfaction. The longest lapse he’d experienced between meals was two days, as the herd of prey that he’d been revisiting nightly finally seemed to become wise and began moving further into the forest where Luke was more hesitant to go. The faint whispering warnings of danger would always come back at a certain point and was a cruel reminder that while he was free, he wasn’t free. 

His cage had just been upgraded to something a little larger. 

A repeating thought which brought no small sense of dismay to himself, and which annoyed his dragon something terrible. His dragon wanted space. To move, to breathe, to hunt - it was tired of being told no. The fact that there were still chains holding him in place chafed. 

He was close. 

Luke was so close. 

…and he wasn’t close at all. 

Not with the damn transmitters still in place. He didn’t know where they were in his body, otherwise Luke would take the risk and claw them out himself. But he didn’t know.

No one was going to help him.

Even if he were willing to reveal himself, which he wasn’t - there was no one he could trust. No rebel - they had done this to him and they had known of his sentience for years. The Empire might be different - but Luke couldn’t bet on that. He’d killed so many of their people. Even if there was someone who might understand that he had a conscience… surely, they would be too angry at the crimes he’d been forced to commit to be willing to help. 

Or worse, maybe they were just as bad. Maybe the rebellion was right that the Empire was full of bigger monsters than them. That they would see him as only a weapon and force him back into another cage. 

Strangers - another option, sure. But too dangerous, if there even were any on this planet. 

And family… them, he would trust. But the only family he had left to his name were far, far outside of his reach. They wouldn’t be coming for him and if meant to danger to them, then Luke didn’t want them to. 

He was on his own.

The sun in the foreign sky overhead was dropping towards the horizon. It would be dark soon and Luke had already caught a large animal for his meal. He hoped to get another before the end of the evening. What little food he’d gotten over the last few days was nowhere near enough to fix all of his problems - he had no idea what a creature his size and weight needed to sustain itself; all he really knew was that his dragon had yet to be fully satisfied and demanded more. 

And it was a torment really, after finally having the chance to eat, to be forced to skip a meal if he wasn’t careful enough. He was learning to alternate what he hunted to avoid scaring his prey out of his territory entirely. The beast Luke had now, had made itself available by wandering far too close to his den. It had been a quick and easier kill - the animal dead before it ever had the chance to realize it was being hunted. Bones cracked with ease between his teeth as Luke tore into its flesh, wetting the dirt with its innards and blood. It was still warm and the flesh was tender - a low, appreciative rumble escaped his maw as he began swallowing massive pieces of the creature whole. 

Even if he was alone, Luke still appreciated the quiet that now surrounded him. It wasn't the same quiet that he'd grown accustomed to while trapped in the rebel's compound, where they'd liked to store him when he wasn't being useful. The air had been stale and hot inside, and the sound of silence unnatural and suffocating. 

This was different. The wind in the trees, the rustle of the leaves and branches as they moved. The scent of water and dirt and animals... it was a cool balm to his mind after so long kept in isolating captivity.

Luke ripped another large piece of the creature apart, the sound of tearing muscle and flesh being more than satisfying. More so, was the feeling of his stomach slowly being filled. The clawing, desperate ache for food that had been one of his only true companions for so long, being eased once more. He would have enough energy afterwards to go down to the river and quench his thirst. With any luck, he'd eat again before morning.

A few minutes passed, his thoughts not drifting any further than making sure that no part of his meal was wasted. Then, with a brief gust of wind, another smell caught his attention. Sharper, more dominant, and both alien and familiar to him at the same. Every muscle in his body grew rigid as he froze in place. 

Luke lifted his head from his meal, ragged strips of flesh dangling from the sides of his maw, noticing for the first time a different sort of quiet had fallen around him while he'd been busy. It was almost entirely still. Not even the birds in the trees were singing their songs now. 

It dawned on him slowly… that he was being hunted. 

Luke bristled, muscles tensing. He held his ground, using his sense of smell to him exactly where the intruder was. It did not take more than a few seconds for Luke to spot him and immediately, he began to growl, the sound coming from deep within him. 

He chuffed angrily, letting smoke waft from his nostrils as he caught sight of the intruder for the first time.

It was another dragon. 

He had never seen another dragon before. If Luke had been wholly himself, he might have been scared or astonished. Too distracted to act. His dragon was far less surprised and it was those instincts which stayed at the forefront of his mind. His dragon was just calculating and angry. This other dragon was a darker brown than Luke himself was and much, much larger by far. Older and wiser. Something in his scent read like weakness to him - injuries, old and new alike, that were not yet healed. But none that were so debilitating now that this other dragon could not easily hold the advantage. 

The stranger was powerful. 

More powerful than Luke was by a landslide. 

He was smaller and less experienced. Younger, and had the disadvantage of being injured and severely underfed. A few decent meals after years and years of abuse was not enough to ready him for this fight. Being confronted with someone else now, after just a few days of freedom, made him feel cornered and trapped. He didn't know why this other dragon had come to find him or what he wanted - but he doubted it was good. 

Luke wouldn’t go down without a fight though. After a few tense seconds, he hissed, flaring his wings out in an attempt to make himself larger and more intimidating, and slowly stepped back from the remains of his meal. The older dragon before him wasn’t intimidated in the least. Yellow reptilian eyes seemed to glare at him with an unnerving sort of intensity. Like those of an elder disapproving of the actions of a small child. 

Or, that of a master annoyed by the unruly actions of a slave.   

The thought burned in his mind, making Luke see red. He wasn’t going to let anyone touch him. Use him or anything like it ever again.

He would rather die.

Stay away from me, Luke hissed, taking another slow, calculating step back. There was not a lot of room in this area for him to take flight. The trees were dense in this part of the forest - and darting back underground into his den would only get him cornered. He didn’t even know if he could fly - if his wings would be willing to bear the weight of his body right now. It had been such a long time since he’d been able to try. If he couldn't win the fight, then escape was his only other option. He'd have to try. 

The dark brown dragon tilted its head slightly, emerging more fully into view, and further emphasizing how much bigger he was than Luke himself. 

Twenty yards or hundred - either way, it was way too close. 

Leave me alone, Luke hissed angrily, wishing that this other shifter could hear and answer him. But, as always, his voice went unheard; instead, the other dragon growled a low, rumbling growl deep in his throat… Luke tensed, watching the other dragons muscles flex in preparation... and then at the same time, they moved.

The sound of their bodies clashing together was like a clap of thunder in the air and Luke growled angrily, slashing with his claws and breathing fire, trying to use his smaller size to his advantage. The larger dragon countered, swatting Luke out of the way and sending him skidding across the rough ground. He didn't stay down for long, quickly finding his feet again - adrenaline and anger pulsed through his body, masking his hurts. He flared his wings again as the older dragon advanced on him quickly, before darting forward and lunging for the elder's throat -

...and missed as the other dragon shifted and twisted at the last second and Luke sank his teeth into the meat of his shoulder instead, tearing a chunk of his scaly flesh away. The older dragon snarled in anger, bringing his head back to snap at him, just as Luke scrambled away, letting loose another stream of fire to cover his retreat. He spotted an opening and desperately tried to slip past his opponent, spreading his wings in preparation of flight.  

The other dragon seemed to have expected it though and he lunged forward, tackling Luke from behind and bringing him crashing back to the ground. It didn't take long before he had Luke pinned underneath him. He tensed, waiting for sharp claws and unforgiving teeth to rip into him, frightened and desperate and angry.

He was pathetic - weak and damaged and he deserved this - the older dragon was right to hurt him -

But the pain he expected didn't come the way that he thought it would. Instead of teeth and claws tearing into his flesh, there was a sharp stab of pain in his head. Something - something that felt like an intrusion. A, a violation of his own mental space - it was as if someone was… clawing their way into his mind, searching through his thoughts and his memories. He felt his muscles tensing and tried to shake the stranger off, to no avail. He was stuck - and terrified.

Whispers of voices from the past suddenly sounded in his mind, pulled from his memory and then discarded just as fast. Too fast for anything substantial to be seen or heard. It was a dizzying experience - a sensation that he had no words to describe. Luke had the shaky thought that the other dragon was looking for something very specific - and then as soon as the thought crossed his mind, a voice, pulled from Luke's memory that he had recollection of, spoke more forcefully and clearly than any of the others:

DON’T CHANGE.

It felt like a command.

An order that couldn't be refused and it made his spine tingle. 

Then, just as quickly, it felt like the words were shredded in half, discarded, like trash.

Change, a different voice whispered. 

The effect was instantaneous.

Something - something happened - something strange, like some part of his mind that he hadn’t even known about that had been locked down tight was suddenly unlocked and then Luke felt the now almost forgotten sensation of his body shrinking and his skin itching as his scales faded back into his body and shriveling up, of his bones crunching and shifting and popping in and out of their joints until he was small, naked, and vulnerable.

And just like that… after years and years of being trapped -

...he was human again. 

The bigger dragon stepped backwards, giving him space even as Luke scrambled away from him, stunned beyond reasoning. Whatever injuries he’d gotten in the fight had shrunk as he had - scratches across his body, instead of gaping wounds from powerful claws. His broken ribs hurt the most - aggravated from when he'd been swatted aside and then pinned to the ground. There was a strange shift in the air that he barely recognized, and the breeze against his skin felt chillier than it had moments ago without his thick hide to protect him. 

Luke was distracted from all of it by the sight of his hands. 

His hands. 

Shaking, breathless, he lifted one, marveling at the sight of his fingers. He flexed them slightly, watching them respond in stunned silence. 

Suns, he had hands. 

They looked almost skeletal. And his skin - his human skin was paler than he ever remembered it being. Luke glanced down at the rest of him, hardly able to believe his eyes. He was thin. 

But it was him. His body. His human form - taller, scarred, and bruised - but it was him. He was back. He'd shifted.

“How long has it been?” The older dragon asked. His voice seemed to echo in his mind, an authority that Luke almost wanted to submit to. It wasn’t quite control, Luke knew and felt that he didn’t have to answer - but it felt sort of like deference. He looked up from himself for the first time, his eyes squinting in the low lighting. He'd forgotten how different his human sight was compared to his dragon sight. It felt so much darker now and the other shifter's features were not easy to make out. 

“Years,” Luke whispered, before he could stop himself. His mouth felt strange and unfamiliar to him and his brain was racing, trying to process words. He could make words again! He could actually communicate. 

The idea was both terrifying and exhilarating. The stranger stepped closer and Luke tensed on instinct, and immediately tried to climb to his feet. Just as quickly, his legs collapsed as he unable to find his balance on two legs. The stranger paused and it was then that Luke noticed he had yellow eyes.

"You do not have to do that," the other dragon said quietly. His voice was deep, with a tone that was both chiding and stern. 

Luke resisted the urge to shrink back, keeping his eyes firmly on the stranger before him. 

There had been little in the way of literature regarding the old dragon shifters of Tatooine but Luke vaguely remembered, only now that he had half a mind to think about it, having read once in a small, dusty little book he’d found at the school library that shifters had a natural tendency to want to defer to their elders. It had been about keeping peace, so that the old settlers didn’t start fights amongst themselves, vying for power that had only been given so they could protect themselves from the Tuskens.

“You… you - ” Luke clumsily tried to wipe away the tears that slipped down his face. His hands were shaking and they felt awkward and strange; foreign, the way that his dragon body had the first time he had shifted in the sands all those years ago. “What do you want with me?” 

The other shifter shifted in his stance slightly, tucking his thumbs into his belt. He was finely dressed, in dark clothes of expensive design. “I have been searching for you for quite some time," he said, calm and at ease. The exact opposite of how Luke himself felt. "Now that I have found you, I would like to ask a few questions.”

“About what?” Luke asked warily. His voice was hoarse and he lifted a hand to scrub at his jaw. It came away smeared with blood.

Anyone who wanted something from him - anyone who’d taken the time to track him down, after all the effort the rebellion had made to move him from place to place - couldn't possibly have good intentions.

Stepping closer once more, the other shifter simply said, “You.” 

Luke shook his head, “I - I don’t understand,” he started to say before he paused suddenly, tilting his head as recognition dawned on him for the first time. “I… I recognize you.” He whispered. “You were… you were on the battlefield a few days ago. I saw you. Who… who are you?”

He didn’t know that the Empire had a shifter. But this man before him now was definitely the same person that he’d seen the other night. The one with the red lasersword, cutting people down left and right and with a wicked sort of ease. The one that had given off predator vibes that far surpassed anything or anyone that Luke had ever come across before. He hadn’t wanted anything to do with him that night. Not in the shape he was in and maybe not even at his full strength either, whatever that was. 

“I am Darth Vader.”

Luke felt his heart stutter.

Darth Vader.

Now that was a name that he recognized. 

Part of him wanted to shrink again - because that was a dangerous name. There wasn’t a person in the rebellion who didn’t fear this man. They cursed him as a monster. A tyrant and a murderer. No one had ever said he was a shifter though. 

“I… I didn’t know the Empire had a shifter.”

“It does not,” Lord Vader said dismissively. “Unlike you," he said pointedly, "I have kept my gifts to myself. As the Law requires.”

Luke felt his chest tighten with anger and embarrassment at the unfair accusation. “I didn’t do this on purpose - ” he began to protest. 

“That is irrelevant now.” Was the dismissive reply. Luke swallowed, going silent at the harsh tone. Lord Vader stared down at him with an unreadable expression on his face. There was a long scar stretching across one of his eyes that made him seem particularly fearsome. It made Luke feel small. “Though I suppose, considering the circumstances, you have only been seen in one form. Not this one.”

It was stated as a question and after a moment, Luke swallowed and nodded. “I haven’t… been able to change -” he tried to explain, but not feeling equal to the task of doing so.

“You could have,” Lord Vader interrupted again, startling Luke with what he said and how confidently he spoke it. “There is no true power in the galaxy that could ever prevent you from accessing your own gifts -”

Luke shook his head, “No, that, that can’t be true!” He snapped, raising his voice for the first time. “I’ve been - stuck! For, for years now -”

“A mind trick,” Lord Vader cut in once more, silencing him. “To make you think otherwise. Planted by a rather powerful telepath or Force sensitive being.” 

Luke felt his heart drop into his stomach. He felt dizzy.

No. That couldn't be true. How - why? But... to his own rising horror, there was no hint of a lie anywhere on Lord Vader’s face. Only the barest hint of what Luke suspected was pity.

“I, I could have changed - this whole time?” He whispered. 

Lord Vader was silent for a long moment. “Technically… yes. You could have.” He said, tilting his head. “Though it would have been difficult without knowing about the suggestion that was planted.”

It felt hard to breathe all of a sudden. No. No, no, no, no. 

Luke felt his breath coming out in short, desperate gasps, raising his hands and curling his fingers into the roots of his hair. His thoughts were running in every direction - the fact that he hadn't had to endure all of this - that he hadn't had to kill so many people - that changing had always been within his power - that he could have gone home years ago -

Despair. Anger. Horror. He didn't know which one to feel first. Lord Vader only watched him, his expression impassive. Luke's inner dragon hissed that it was rude to be stared at and he shouldn't be weak. He hadn't survived this long by being weak -

"I had my suspicions, after that night on the battlefield, that your connection to the rebel alliance -"

“I hate the rebellion,” Luke snarled immediately. Anger came easily to his defense, a familiar weapon and tool of defense. He instantly felt the itchy feeling of his scales beginning to reemerge on his arms and necks at the mere thought of the rebellion. He wanted to tear them all apart, rip them to shreds and make them suffer for doing this to him. “They knew I was sentient! They did this to me - they made me, they - ” he hissed and the sound was more reptilian than it was human. 

He didn’t have the words to express his hurt and anger. 

Lord Vader continued to stare at him; but whether he was looking at Luke or merely taking note of his reactions, it was hard to tell. Even still, Luke got the strangest sense that the man before him understood exactly how Luke felt. It wasn’t exactly sympathy or empathy or anything like that - just understanding. 

He wasn’t certain what to do with that. 

"They wronged you."

Luke didn't bother to respond to that. The answer was plain as the scars on his emaciated body. "I never wanted to kill your people," he shot back instead, masking his grief with anger. "They made me."

"I assumed as much."

"Then what do you want with me?" Luke demanded.

Lord Vader took another step towards him. “Who was your sire?”

The question was not what he had expected. It caught him by surprise. Wary of answering, Luke braced his hands against the ground, trying to get his legs to do what he wanted. He felt wobbly and uncoordinated, like a new bantha calf experiencing the desert sands for the first time. "What does that matter to you?" He asked warily. "We're not supposed to talk about those things. You are from the Desert, aren't you?"

Lord Vader raised an eyebrow at him and he crossed his arms for the first time, impatient and annoyed. It drew attention to the chunk of skin that Luke had torn out of him in their fight. Blood glistened faintly on the front of his clothes but if he was in pain, it didn't show on his face.

"Obviously," he bit out, his voice terser than it had been thus far. But he still... wasn’t angry. Luke could feel that, mostly, Lord Vader was curious. Annoyed, yes, but curious. Like someone being presented with something that they never thought they’d see and almost didn’t believe was possible. 

If he was being honest with himself, Luke kind of understood the feeling. Seeing another shifter was just as much of a surprise for him as it probably was to Lord Vader.

As far as Luke had known, he was the only one left. Lord Vader might have been in the same sand-ship, thinking he'd been alone as well.

Luke slowly tried to stand and was painfully aware of his body shaking from weakness and fatigue. The fight had taken a lot of strength and energy out of him. But he was determined to stand. To not do... whatever this was, on the ground. Two feet wasn’t that different from four... though he didn’t have a tail to balance him out and… that seemed strange now that he was thinking about it. Taking a slow breath, Luke pushed himself up, holding his hands out in front of him in an effort to keep himself steady. 

“How old are you?” Lord Vader asked. 

“That depends.” 

“On?”

“What year it is,” Luke hissed in annoyance, lifting his eyes briefly to glare at Lord Vader. 

Vader was quiet for a moment and then, “It is year zero.”

Luke blinked in confusion, slowly straightening his back. He still felt like he might tip over and his legs felt unsteady beneath him. But… he was standing. “I don’t know that calendar.” He admitted. 

Vader was silent for a long moment. “It has been nineteen years since the fall of the Republic,” he finally said. 

Nineteen years. 

Luke had been fourteen when all of this had started… had it really been so long? And in that same breath… was that all? All of his misery and suffering and fighting… it had only amounted to four or five years in the end? 

It felt like it had been so much longer than that. He didn’t even know who he was anymore. How… how would anyone else even recognize him, after all this time? When he didn’t even recognize himself? All he knew was that he wasn’t the Luke that he had been on Tatooine. 

That kid - that child - was gone. He died a long time ago and all that remained was whatever Luke was now. 

A… a broken down, starved half to death animal that only knew how to kill and survive.

“Then I guess I’m nineteen,” Luke answered tiredly, his anger fading a little. “Or near to it, I suppose.” 

Something… flickered. In the air - in his mind, Luke couldn’t really tell which one it was. But... if he had to call it anything, it felt like a cautious sort of interest. Like Lord Vader was on the brink of considering something but wasn’t interested in being wrong about whatever that something might be. 

“...and you are Force sensitive.”

That caught Luke’s attention, pulling him from his despondent thoughts. “Force sensitive?" His brow furrowed. "Like… a Jedi?”

Vader nodded once. “You didn’t know?”

Luke snorted. The list of things that he didn’t know was probably a few miles long at this point. “No,” he said bitterly. “Haven’t exactly been in a position to know about things like that. And even if I was… I doubt anyone would have told me anyways.”

He wondered what the rebellion would have done to him if they had known he was Force sensitive. Whatever that entailed. What other things could they have done to him or made him do for their cause?

It made him feel tired inside. It wasn't fair. 

“Who sired you?” Vader asked again, quieter this time. Like before, his voice seemed to echo and once again, there was some small part of Luke that suddenly wanted to answer him. 

Luke grit his teeth, raising his hands to his head, trying to force the echoing question to leave him alone. “I never knew him.” He admitted.

“I did not ask if you knew him. What was his name?” Lord Vader said impatiently, taking a step closer. His voice seemed louder this time and Luke felt his skin itch as his scales began to reappear in response to his own growing unease. He paused in his advance when he noticed, raising his hands placatingly. “You don’t need to change. Just tell me who sired you.”

His scales faded back into his skin and Luke was briefly flustered by a strange sort of calm that was trying to invade his mind. He felt his heart pounding and glanced up at Vader once again. He was much closer than before and Luke tried to take an automatic step back to increase the distance between them. His legs weren’t ready to walk though and he instantly lost his balance and fell back to the ground with a quiet thump. 

“Anakin.” Luke finally spit out, pushing himself backwards instead. “Get away from me.”

Lord Vader stumbled back a step or two, openly staring at him with a feeling of intense disbelief flickering around them in the air. He didn’t do anything except stare - just looking at him like he'd never seen another person before in his life. 

Lord Vader opened his mouth. Closed it. And then opened it again, “You are the son of Anakin… Skywalker?” 

“Yeah,” Luke confirmed, feeling defensive and wary. “What’s it to you?” 

“How are you… even possible?”

Luke hesitated, uncertain what to do with that question. It confused him and he felt his discomfort grow the longer that Lord Vader stared at him. The older shifter briefly stretched a hand out towards him before immediately drawing it back again. It was the first time that he had made any obvious attempt to touch him since their fight and it made his hackles raise.

“What is your name?” Lord Vader asked instead.

Luke felt his eyes flash and he shook his head in refusal. That was the one thing Lord Vader couldn't have. His name was his own and it was the only thing that hadn't been taken from him yet. It didn't matter how Lord Vader might try and prompt the answer out of him this time. But instead of reacting, Lord Vader... barely seemed to notice his refusal to answer at all. He was still staring at him with that same feeling of disbelief flickering around them in the air. He didn’t do anything except stare - just looking at him - and it made his blood start to boil. 

Luke hated being stared at. He wasn’t an animal and he wasn’t a slave at auction. He was a person and Luke would fight to his death before he ever let anyone take that right from him again. 

“Stop looking at me like that,” he hissed, inching a little further backwards. The feeling of the dirt and rocks under his skin felt painful. His dragon skin was tougher than this and there were some things that simply didn’t register to it. It registered now though, and every sharp little rock and pebble seemed to dig into him painfully.

Lord Vader blinked, seeming to come back to himself. “I will not hurt you."

Luke scoffed. He'd heard that said, and all of its many variations so many times before. "I don't believe you," he said staunchly. "You didn't come out here just to talk to me."

"That is true," Lord Vader said cautiously. "And I understand that you have no reason to trust anyone. However," he hesitated for long moment, "you are Force sensitive."

"And? I don't know anything about that."

The older shifter seemed to hesitate again. "Your power has been growing, though you may not have realized it. Unrealized power often reveals itself in simple ways - sensing danger," he said, watching Luke's face carefully. "Feeling the emotions of other people. Feeling like you can read their thoughts."

Luke blinked, thinking back to all the things he'd been feeling lately. It had become sort of normal but... "I... I thought I was going crazy," he admitted, meeting Lord Vader's eyes. "But that's... the emotions and the warnings? That's the Force?"

"Yes. And if you listen carefully," Lord Vader continued, stepping towards him once more. "It can tell you if someone is lying to you."

Ben had been like that, Luke remembered. He had always seemed to know when Luke was or wasn’t telling the truth. It had almost been funny and his younger teenage self had occasionally tried to think of elaborate tales to tell, just to see if Ben would believe him or not. Luke bit the inside of his cheek, staring hard at the man before him. He didn’t know how Ben had done it - they had rarely spoken about the Force or the Jedi. 

When he had been silent for a few minutes, Lord Vader spoke once more. "I won't hurt you."

Luke wanted to reject it on instinct, but... he swallowed, wanting to see if that other sense he'd relied to tell him when he'd gotten too close to what he assumed were the boundaries of his transmitters, would work now. 

It was quiet between them. Still. He - he couldn't tell. 

"I won't hurt you." Lord Vader repeated. 

This time the words... felt... warm? That didn't seem like the right word. Steady. Maybe safe? Whatever it was... it didn't feel like 'danger'. He knew that feeling well enough. And this wasn't that... so maybe it was true.

Maybe. 

Something tense inside of him relaxed a little. Luke looked down and away from Lord Vader, staring at his hands once more. He had them again - no scales or claws, unless he wanted them. Lord Vader had done that for him. He wasn't certain if it meant anything yet... but, it was still more than anyone else had done for him in a long time. 

"I still don't want to give you my name."

A short silence fell between them.

“Alright,” Lord Vader finally said. He hesitated for a long moment and then Luke watched as he reached up with both his hands and unclasped a black cape that hung at his shoulders. Luke felt wary but the other man only folded it in half and then slowly stepped towards him once again, closing most of the distance between them. Then, he sank down to the ground, just a few feet away, crisscrossing his legs.

The pounding of Luke’s heart slowly eased up. 

“Here,” Lord Vader said, extending the folded cape out to him. "You look cold."

Luke hesitated again... but it was cold. The air was chilly around him. Reaching forward, he took it; it was heavier than he expected it to be but the weight of it was nice on his lap and he appreciated being able to cover some of his modesty. He fingered the fabric of it, playing with it and marveling over the delicate sensations he could feel. "What happens now?" He asked quietly. 

"What do you want to have happen?"

He felt a sad smile pull at his lips. "What I want hasn't mattered in a long time," he said quietly. "I don't know what you want from me. I can't leave this part of the forest. I... I barely even know who I am anymore. I'm just trapped and I'm... I'm really tired of being in a cage."

An admission that should have probably embarrassed him. It didn't though. It was a relief to actually be able to say what he was feeling and for someone to hear. And for some reason, it felt like Lord Vader wanted to listen. Luke got the sense that he didn't extend that kind of generosity to very many people.

“I was a slave once,” Lord Vader replied quietly. “I understand what you are feeling right now.”

Luke jerked his head up. “...you?”

“Me,” he agreed.

Luke stared at him, trying to make that make sense. Vader was so… so powerful. Even outside of his dragon form, he could feel it. He was deadly and feared by practically the entire galaxy, if the rebellion was to be believed - a Force user and a shifter, as well. How could someone like him have come from slavery?

"Why would you tell me that?" He asked suspiciously. 

Lord Vader shrugged. "I know about transmitters. I'm assuming you have one?"

"Two," Luke corrected stiffly. "I have a short leash."

The older shifter nodded, his expression darkening a little at the comment. "You are also badly injured and I don't think I am wrong to assume that you do not wish to stay here forever?"

Luke glanced around the small space of his territory that he'd claimed over the last... however many days it had been. "No, not really."

"Then come with me. Come with me," Lord Vader said intensely, "and I can arrange for you to receive medical attention. My team will be able to locate and remove your transmitters. You don't have to stay here."

Luke felt his stomach twist uneasily. He felt his hands clench into fists, fingers twisting into the dark fabric of Vader's cape. It sounded like a suggestion - like an option he could take but he knew, he knew that it would happen regardless. And it scared him. "I don't trust anyone," he shook his head, feeling his eyes well with tears. "I don't trust people. I can't - I don't want to kill anyone. I don't want to be put in another cage."

“You will never be put in a cage again,” Lord Vader said fiercely. “I would never - ”

“Well, I know a lot of people who would,” Luke snapped at him. “And they have. Over and over and over again. And they said a lot of nice things to me too - they said that if I cooperated, they wouldn't hurt me. They said all of this was necessary - that it was for the greater good," he spat the word like a curse. "But they always knew it was wrong. They were always lying. And I endured it because I've had to, but if you’re going to pretend - to gain my trust somehow -”

"Son," Lord Vader interrupted and that word - it made Luke's temper flare because that was going way too far. 

“Don’t call me that!" He snapped on instinct, another inhuman hiss escaping from his mouth. "You are not my father! You aren't… you're not....” Luke froze, trailing off as he stared at Lord Vader as something dawned on him for the very first time. 

He’d known the name Anakin Skywalker. Luke hadn't said that name. Only Anakin. There was no reason for Lord Vader to know that name either. 

A shifter, like him. 

A slave, like him.

“...you… you’re not…” Luke shook his head. It suddenly felt as though he were not getting enough air. Because that was… that was… that was impossible. It was supposed to be impossible. “You can’t be -”

“Breathe,” Lord Vader instructed quickly, scooting closer to him until their knees were almost touching. “Breathe, child.” He - his father? - raised his hands but hesitated to touch him. “Calm yourself,” he said and there was a warm sort of feeling that flickered in the back of Luke's mind now. It was gentle and it scared him - Luke didn’t know what to do with gentleness. 

“But you… you’re -” 

“I am," Lord Vader confirmed, before finally placing a firm, steady hand against Luke's bare chest. He breathed in deeply and then exhaled, the action exaggerated and clearly intended for Luke to try and copy. Luke tried, stutteringly, and confused, to follow him. It took a few minutes before his breathing evened out and only then did Lord Vader continue. "I did not know about this. About you - that you were alive. Otherwise this never would have happened. But let me take you from this place now,” he - his father urged, imploring and firm... and with a whisper of that echoing sort of authority that Luke felt the need to listen to. “I will make sure that no more harm comes to you.”

His mind was spinning and he didn't understand. 

But... Lord Vader wasn't lying. 

"You're Anakin." Luke whispered, staring at Lord Vader's face. He hadn't seen his own in a very long time. He didn't know what he looked like now. But he thought... maybe... there was something familiar in the features looking back at him. They... they both had a cleft chin. Luke lifted his hand, touching the almost forgotten indent on his own human face.

He'd gotten it from his father. 

"Yes, my son. I am your father."