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Chapter Text

Day -6 before Empire's Day, 3ABY.

Growing up, Luke had always marveled at water. It was such a tiny, seemingly insignificant thing, and somehow, human lives depended on it. Ironic, truly. At least, that’s what the rebel had thought. However, the stormy seas of Kamino almost swallowing his X-Wing whole begged to differ. The ship shook and swayed alarmingly as the pilot tugged desperately at the commands. From a corner of his eye, red lights draw his attention on the communication panel.

“Master Luke, we must land as soon as possible!” The screen translated.

As a particularly high wave threatened to drag the fighter under, the blonde maneuvered a sharp spin, cursing under his breath. He could’ve swore he heard a part of the ship shriek under the pressure.

“I know, I know! But I’m not exactly seeing anything to land on right now do you ?!”

No sooner than he finished his sentence, a lightning tore the abyssal darkness of the night. Luke felt his heart jolt at both the sudden flash and the hopes it brought. Such a powerful strike could only mean it hit something solid, metallic, even. Grinning ears to ears, the boy released a shaky breath. It was rare, lately, but sometimes, the Force did seem to be with him. And in mysterious ways, it worked.

“Well, looks like I didn’t try hard enough!” he laughed in the mic.

From above the canopy, he could make out the familiar shriek of heated binaries. He didn’t need to check the screen to know what an outraged Artoo might be uttering. There’s nothing the droid hated more than being snapped at. Ironic truly, considering that more times than not, R2-D2 was the one snapping at everyone.

Nearing a docking bay, the blonde initiated the landing process.

-----

Staring at the rebel fighter starting its descent, Vader smirked under his mask, his dry, burnt skin tugging painfully at the motion. The plan was unfolding neatly, though the sith didn’t dare let his hopes rise for the time being. So many things could go wrong at the last minute, especially when it came to this foolish, reckless child. Therefore, he would deny his success until he had the boy secured in his grasp.

The man briefly wondered how he hadn’t thought about this before. It was by far the most brilliant plan he ever elaborated. The Alliance was desperate for a reliable intel and decent equipment. Leading their so called High Command to blindly follow the trail of the generous donations of a certain Lars Quell, from Kamino, had been child play.

The planet’s weather and topography made flying there a risky and thorough trial that few pilots could pull off. The rebels were foolish and poorly organized, but he knew them to be coherent enough to send him the best of their elements. Speak of the devil, the garish flight suit climbed down the ladder under the heavy torrents pouring from the sky and ran towards the nearest roof available, an achingly familiar astromech on his tail.

From his vantage point, the black behemoth didn’t once leave the figure out of his sight. Transparisteel doors opened at the bottom of the stairs and locked as soon as the two guests passed it. In the Force, Vader could feel dread replacing Luke’s previous relief. The dark lord could almost hear a mental “Force, not this banthasith again”.

The Emperor’s Fist held a key position in the Empire he allowed to rise. Whether it came from the bounty hunters he employed or his numerous personal spies, he always knew what transpired firsthand. He was well aware of the boy’s latest… misadventures. In the last months, the young fool accumulated the impressive number of seven close-calls with serious troubles that involved a trap of the likes.

“Welcome, my son. I have been expecting you.”

-------

Kaminoan technology either fascinated or terrified. There was no in between. During the war, their clones had provoked an intergalactic debate within the populations. Genius innovation or threat, no one had seemed to be able to clear back then. But this… this was beyond what words could describe.

Luke throwing himself at Vader was expected. Both dueled across the building, unconsciously reaching the inner parts of the abandoned factory the sith lord had chosen as their rendezvous point. At some point, lightsabers clashed dangerously close to what looked like a rusted engine. None of them noticed, at first. However, the Force seemed to scream at him all of the sudden. Yet, the dark lord kept on parrying his son’s strikes with as much as second thought for the warning. It didn’t feel like a threat, more like it shivered in anticipation.

Unexpectedly, a powerful, blinding light swallowed them both until Luke was no longer in the behemoth’s sight, before retreating and turning off like nothing happened. Simultaneously, an unbearable ache invaded what was left of his body. Vader hadn’t felt such pain since… that fateful day on Mustafar. His prosthetics buckled under his weight as he collapsed on the marble floors. What in the Force had just happened ? Did his suit ignite at the flash of light and was finishing the lava’s work? Did the machine release some sort of chemical, was it what was causing this ?

Luke.

Where was the boy ? Was he alright ? Panic rose in his ravaged chest, towering over the pain. Standing up fueled with nothing but adrenaline and fear, the sith lord glanced at the direction he had last seen the boy in, only to find his clothes sprawled on the floor, akin to the way Obi-Wan’s had back on the Death Star.

No.

A kaleidoscope of scenarios, each worse than the previous, whirled in his pain addled mind before a faint sound tore him from his darkest nightmares, so weak it had almost gone unnoticed. The infamous black helmet tilted downwards, towards the origin of the sound, towards... Luke’s displayed clothes.

Vader slowly knelt, rolling his eyes at the vivid pain that ensued from the simple motion. The sound echoed once more, much clearer now that he was closer, yet even more confusing. A cry, or more accurately, a wail, was needless to say, out of place in this scenery and context. Reaching a hesitant prosthetic, gloved fingers grabbed the boy’s clothing, unveiling the small, fragile, and most definitely out of place form of a baby. A newborn, to be exact.

What was the meaning of this, the sith lord didn’t know, and yet, realization slowly struck him. The constant pain emanating from the scarred remnants of his body had suddenly felt like his first days in the suit. There was a few days old infant buried under his son’s belongings, where Luke had stood before everything went downhill. Somehow, the both of them were back in the body they had… twenty-two years ago, as mad as this sounded.

Another cry came from the helpless being before him, drawing the dark lord’s attention back on their predicament. Two large hands gathered the squirming child, drawing him close. Never letting go of his son’s sight, Vader placed the bundle of life in the crook of his arms, cradling him.

Force, he was beautiful.

Soft, rosy cheeks underlined the most adorable, in his definitely neutral opinion, pair of eyes. Tears glistened in the two wide, curious orbs staring into his lenses. A small nose akin to a button stood in the middle of his round, chubby face. The sith lord traced every single feature of this miracle with a gentle finger, struck with awe. It almost felt forbidden, sacrilegious even, to touch such perfection with his undeserving, blood stained hands. To think that he, Darth Vader, got to call this child his own, set his mind in a divine bliss.

On their own will, his fingers lightly tickled the soft skin under the baby’s chin in an awkward attempt at soothing the little one’s despair. Strident wails slowly subdued into the sweetest coos as a toothless, soppy smile curled his small, raspberry colored lips. Tiny fingers wrapped around Vader’s gloved, unresisting one and slowly brought it to Luke’s mouth.

A wide, unconscious smile spread his ravaged lips. Ever since he had found out about Luke, being a father had remained a foreign concept he couldn’t grasp. But looking at the source of his wonder, it finally sank in.

He was a father.

“I am your father.” he gently cooed as his son’s drool slid down his trapped finger.

He almost wanted to scream it into the nothingness of space, to claim this precious child across the galaxy like a treasure for everyone to admire. However, reality slowly faded his temporary happiness as a sense of emergency rose within him. He had to protect this vulnerable being at all cost. He didn’t know what just transpired, or its implications, but he knew this for sure.

Another thought strengthened his resolve as he carefully stood up with the infant secured in his arms. He had no idea how long this condition would remain before it would go back to normal. If it ever did. But he would cherish every single moment he could being the father he had longed to be, to experience what he was denied. He almost considered locking himself up in his quarters with the child for an undefined amount of time. However, suspicion from the Emperor was the last thing he needed to keep his son safe, which brutally reminded him the stakes of their predicament.

Ignoring the excruciating pain he was in, the sith lord walked towards his shuttle, with his world in his arms swaddled in his cape.

-----

Serving under Lord Vader’s flagship had gotten Piett to witness a certain amount of… unusual situations. Not that he minded of course. Working for the infamous Emperor’s Fist was the greatest honor that ever bestowed him. It was worth disposing of a body or turning an entire star destroyer around for the sake of catching a young rebel his superior was apparently obsessed with.

This, however, exceeded whatever occasional hazards he had come to see.

The dark lord had required his, and his only, presence in the hangar. Firmus had stood obediently as the awaited shuttle landed. He had been expecting everything. Lord Vader being injured (as uncharacteristically as it would be) and in need of help, or needing to appoint the admiral a specific and secret mission and dozens of other scenarios of the like.

What he had absolutely not pictured, not would he have in his wildest dreams, was the man striding (was he limping?) down the shuttle’s ramp with a newborn wrapped in his cape and a droid on his tail. His utter devotion and professionalism were the only anchors that kept him from breaking his stance and possibly risking a straight ticket for the afterlife. The black behemoth had then marched his way to the imperial and commanded his silence on what he had just witnessed.

In the middle of a somewhat impressive list of matters he wanted Piett to attend to, which included the delivery of an equipment fit for the custody of an infant, his comlink had beeped. Cutting short their discussion and letting Firmus know that he would resume his demands later, Vader had left the hangar, passing him the swaddled baby.

Standing in his own rooms, helplessly watching the newborn pull at his hair and screaming his lungs out, the admiral felt like crying too.

Chapter Text

Day -5 before Empire's Day, 3ABY.

“I take it you have yet to satisfy me with the capture of young Skywalker, my apprentice.”

“That is correct, my master. However, I assure you the Executor stands ready to interfere with any attempt at escaping the atmosphere. Skywalker will soon be delivered to you, as you have foreseen.”

“Very well, my apprentice. I shall leave you to your relentless and hopefully successful capture. It would be wise to prevent further disappointment, lest your last punishment needs to be renewed.”

Upon these words, the Emperor’s face vanished from the room.

This vicious, wretched old sadic.

The remains of his scarred body didn’t need the aching reminder. Humiliation, pain, rage swirled in the Force at the memory.

“And what do we do with traitors, Mas Amedda?”echoed in his thoughts.

Tension grew in his remnants of limbs as his breathing became somewhat erratic despite the respirator forcing air into his battered lungs. The dark lord didn’t know if the room shaking was his doing or of some exterior consequence. Amidst the chaos of his mind, a flash of light appeared before his eyes. Images of his angelic and somehow back to his first days child waiting for him somewhere on the ship.

His heart ached for nothing more than to march towards the location of his dear son at once. His unstable mind and painful body, however, wouldn’t take another ten minutes without a due meditation submerged in a bacta tank. The loving sight of his newborn would have to wait a few hours.

—--

Strident beeping tore him from his trance. For a few hours, Vader had almost forgotten himself. This had been by far the most efficient meditation he had ever managed to get into. It was as though these few hours had managed to heal his burning flesh for what felt like…

No. Not again.

He didn’t know what kind of technological miracle the Kaminoans had elaborated this time. He shouldn’t be surprised, truly. Their advanced civilization had been able to build an army of clones thanks to the DNA of a single man. Controlling the untamable flow of time somehow seemed like a decent next step.

Sure, the sith lord had felt grateful beyond what words could define when this specific, bizarre phenomenon had allowed him the greatest gift of all. That still didn’t erase the uncomfortable feeling of not being able to control what was happening.

Speaking of said gift, Vader reached in the Force, basking in the pleasant light his son was projecting on his usually lifeless flagship. He felt… amusement?

What could possibly rouse a newborn to such a state of entertainment? Vader pondered, until he remembered.

If his body has healed for what seemed like three years, then surely such changes must have occurred with Luke. As on cue, the strident beeping rang anew in the hyperbaric chamber. His comlink.

By the time he was secured in his suit, Piett’s voice echoed in the room.

“Lord Vader hum… Admiral Piett, I… it’s about the child he… OW cut it you-”

The black behemoth heard a distant giggle before the message cut. His heart swelled with something he couldn’t put his finger on. Marching with much less difficulty, he strode for what felt like an eternity across the dull hallways of the Executor, until he was met with the door to Piett’s rooms.

Sliding smoothly, the door revealed a scene Vader would have never imagined he would witness aboard his own star destroyer.

The rooms were thrown around as if a storm somehow occurred throughout the night. The cushions that must have adorned the Admiral’s sofa and bed were sprawled on the floor, some of them emptied from their stuffing that dusted the floors like it had snowed. A chair laid sideways in the center of the room, surrounded with papers and files of all kinds. Some were torn, others were… chewed?

The tiles were stained with ink cascading from various opened pens, which the sith lord identified as the weapon that explained the irruption of dozens of senseless doodles here and there, including on the walls.

And in the middle of this chaos stood his son, grinning, and naked.

Next to his now toddler crouched Piett, holding a shirt and gaping at his superior with wide, bashful eyes. Without a word of context, it didn’t take Vader more than a minute to know his faithful admiral was bribing the boy into putting on some clothes, which could explain the endless chase that must’ve caused this scenery.

“I shall take it from here, Admiral.” said the black behemoth while grabbing the shirt with the Force.

“Th-thank you my Lord!” indulged the man, rushing out of the rooms.

He looked like he hadn't gotten a minute of sleep throughout the cycle. The sith lord almost wanted to feel sorry. Later. For now, his main focus was the still very small, yet taller than yesterday, blonde menace bolting towards him.

“Daddy!” screamed the tiny, rich voice of his child, however muffled by the fact he had just buried himself in the robes of his father.

If there had been any hint of disappointment that time had passed so quickly he hadn't gotten to coddle his baby, it evaporated just as quickly. To have Luke run to him so eagerly made his heart rate soar. Crouching eye level with the boy, the dark lord reached a hesitant hand to cup his still very chubby cheeks.

“Hello, my son.” he tried to utter as smoothly as the vocoder would let him.

Luke simply giggled as an answer. His smile was radiant, he had somehow grown and lost some teeth in the span of a few hours. Vader found the tiny holes in his ivory grin adorable, as well as the freckles adorning his nose and cheeks, and the way his mop of blonde strands of hair surrounded his face like a halo.

Force, Vader loved this child. His child.

“Luke, are you responsible for this mess?” he gently admonished.

“Noooooo” the boy replied in a tone that convinced the dark lord of the depth of his guilt.

“Luke?” He tried again, softly grabbing the little hands the boy was hiding behind his back.

The child out of the sudden bolted in the opposite direction of his father, under the latter’s incredulous eyes. Defeated, Vader watched as his son climbed up Piett’s desk.

“Luke, get down this instant before you injure yourself.” He commanded with a slightly more intimidating tone…

…that Luke mischievously imitated with no care in the world.

So this was what parents of a toddler had to endure. Did his mother have to cope with such behavior?

“Luke, do not make me come get you.” The Sith Lord raised a finger towards his rebellious son who’s answer now consisted of blowing a raspberry in his direction.

“Enough!” he thundered, walking towards the boy that giggled and retreated upper into the shelves upon the desk.

Grabbing the child with the Force, he brought the squirming child to him. What he didn’t expect was Luke to enjoy it. Soft giggles were now turned into bursts of genuine laughing.

Apparently, dangerous situations were a significant part of a toddler’s day. A phase that Luke didn’t seem to have outgrown, considering his rebel tendencies.

“I am going to put you down, and you are going to put on a shirt and help me clean that mess, am I clear?”

“Yes daddy!” The toddler enthusiastically replied.

Vader was glad the mask kept hidden the smile that crept on his ravaged lips at the title. He was already struggling to assert his authority, he wasn’t going to let this adorable child ruin his composure.

True to his words, the black behemoth released his hold of the toddler.

Betraying his, the boy darted towards the door that opened at this instant. Luke was Force-sensitive, of course he would’ve felt someone coming and know the door would open.

Pacing after the reckless child and not granting Piett a second thought, he found himself in a staircase, holding Luke mid-air after this one had just jumped.

Actually, dying, was the biggest part of a toddler’s day.

Squealing, the blonde was delighted by the turn of events. He did enjoy being lifted with the Force, Vader remembered. Besides, he could feel from the Force a wild contentment at his father’s fury.

Setting him down with force, the Sith Lord grasped his son’s shoulder, startling him. His heart sank at the sight of his bright smile faltering and his eyes turning glossy.

“Enough! From now on, you will listen to me and stop this foolish chase! Understood?!” He thundered.

To that, the toddler shivered violently and started to cry. Vader was a murderer, a war-hardened veteran, a Sith lord for Force’s sake and yet, the guilt he was feeling deep in his gut was stronger than anything he had ever felt.

It was going to be a long day.

Wiping Luke’s tears off, he gently cajoled his cheeks and ran a hand into his hair.

“Hush my little one. Here’s what we are going to do. I’m going to take you to see the ships in the hangar, and then, I will ask for you to be brought some hot chocolate. What do you think?”

“Yay!” Luke squirmed, all despair and crocodile tears forgotten.

“However,” started Vader as he watched Luke’s shoulders plop a bit, “You are going to put on a shirt first, understood?”

Genuinely hesitating for a few seconds, blue eyes were lost in deep contemplation before a toothy grin was shot Vader’s way.

“Okay! But I want blue!”

Where would the Sith lord find a blue shirt that fit his son on the galaxy’s most feared flagship, he didn’t know. But if there was one thing he knew for sure, was that his son before him was an endless source of marvel.

Chapter Text

Day -4 before Empire’s Day, 3ABY.

Walking along the dull, endless corridors of the Executor, Piett performed some of the breathing exercises Veers had just taught him. After the surreal experience of yesterday, he had met with Zevulon for a long overdue whiskey break. He was well aware of the confidentiality of the whole ordeal, however, he also knew he wouldn’t last another hour if he kept it all in him. His friend had laid upon him eyes filled with utter pity, slapped a compassionate hand to his shoulders, and ordered them both the well deserved honey drink without a word.

After a while, Firmus asked him for friendly advice to help him cope with the restless pit of anxiety that pooled in his stomach and seemed to grab at his throat. Veers had been listing him some respiratory tips for him to try when the dreaded sound of his comlink rang clear in the lounge. As if struck with the sight of a nightmare induced soul eating creature, both comrades looked into each other’s eyes, and Veers seemed like he was already considering what words he would write on his obituary. Slowly, Piett’s trembling fingers activated the device, bracing for what would come, when a stormtrooper’s helmet came into view and he could suddenly breathe again.

“Admiral, this is FL-1374 reporting an incident.” the soldier started dutifully.

“What is it, lieutenant?” he almost struggled to get out. Man, he wouldn’t live long if his heart kept taking this.

“An intruder broke into the corridors and escaped us before we lost sight of him.”

The storm trooper was met with a prolonged silence before hesitantly talking anew.

“Admiral?”

“Pardon, an intruder, you said?”

“Yes sir. I didn’t get to see his face but I can tell it’s a human male, his form is rather small, real short actually, and from the looks of it he was blonde.”

Silence answered him again, and the man was sure he could hear a breath intake coming from his admiral on call.

“Should I activate the intruder protocol, sir?”

“Your coordinates, lieutenant?” It was Admiral Veers who answered him this time.

“West corridor to the south wing’s shooting range, sir.”

Piett felt and probably looked like he was about to faint.

“Lock down all issues to the south wing as well as the hangar, intruder protocol will not be necessary. See that all troopers stationed on the ship set their weapon to stun.” Zevulon ordered, turning off the comlink before glancing at his friend. The man was a mess.

“Firmus?” he gently asked.

“Yeah?”

“You might want to let Lord Vader know that his offspring have run off again.” Veers had said to him with a wince.

Now here he was, walking to a fate he didn’t know and didn’t want to know. Standing before the doors to the dark lord’s office, he adjusted his collar and counted to three before raising his handful of the pass to open the door. The room was draped in pitch obscurity. The curtains of the glass view port were closed, leaving no chance for the blue stripes of light speed to pierce through the room. He could, however, make up the black form of his superior laying on the usually unused couch that adorned the office. Forcing his uncooperative legs to move towards it, he approached the sith and cleared his throat.

------

“My lord?”

At once, the black-clad giant was brought back to his senses. Opening his eyes behind the red lenses of his mask, he was met with a pitch dark blur before his pupils actually focused. His limbs, well, what was left of it, felt sluggish and slow as he sat up on the couch of his office. Dazed, it took Vader a full minute to grasp what had just happened. Memories of yesterday then flowed right back into his mind. His 3 years old son had been a spitfire all day. After a relentless and unsuccessful search for a blue shirt for his beloved ball of energy, the sith had settled for an imperial uniform he would tighten with a belt for it to fit his small form.

Little did he know this would apparently ruin his toddler’s life.

Luke had thrown a tantrum that Vader would not forget any time soon. He had suddenly been quite grateful for the quality of the Executor’s walls. He had then spent the cycle trying to fulfill his child’s desires, whether it meant spending 5 entire hours in the hangar answering endless questions about ships, dismissing the troopers stationed on his wing of the ship to take Luke on an unsuspected tour on his shoulders or ordering chocolate muffins to be baked and delivered to his quarters. The day had been a long one, however, Vader had enjoyed every minute of it, knowing this wouldn’t last for one more. He had then managed to put his sweet son to bed, or so he had thought, when the boy had started to cry again, begging him to lay with him and read him a story. He must’ve fallen asleep as he did, as unexpected as this had been.

Which reminded him…

“Yes, Admiral?” He hoped his sharp tone would remind the man who he was talking to, and therefore be enough to make him forget what he just witnessed.

“I, um, pardon if I’m… interrupting, my lord, but it seems that the- well, that our guest, has wandered off on the ship again.” Piett looked terrified, even through the red of his lenses Vader could still make out a glimmer adorning his admiral’s forehead.

“Where is he?” he had a feeling he already knew the answer to that question.

“We don’t know for sure, my lord, however, know that my men stand ready to handle any upcoming situation.”

“Very well, Admiral, I shall deal with this myself. Dismissed.”

“Yes, my lord?” Piett looked all too eager to storm out of the room, and did so… efficiently.

Suppressing a sigh, the sith lord stood up. According to his calculations, the boy should be around 6 years old today. Force knew what to expect from a child this age. He missed the newborn he had brought on the ship two days ago, though loud, it had been quite easy to keep him out of trouble. Vader briefly wondered if every parent had felt that way. Reaching in the Force, he quickly localized the familiar signature somewhere on the Executor. Following the trail, he noted a change in its light. Where so far it had been a supernova of pure, innocent light, a small undercurrent of bittersweet, sour feelings darkened his brightness. As if, ever the bright boy he knew him to be, he nonetheless knew things that loomed over him and altered that light.

Could it be that he somehow kept his memories regardless of his juvenile state ?

Reaching deeper, however, he didn’t feel the vibrant, burning pain of despair and betrayal he usually felt coming from Luke before the events on Kamino. It was as though the feelings were there, but subdued, maybe tempered with the amount of comprehension the boy could have at such a young age. Though relieved his son didn’t resent him nearly as powerfully as he actually did, the discovery still stung somewhere deep in his chest.

He would’ve hoped, foolishly, naively even, that there was a chance he could raise the boy without him remembering anything of their old lives, and finally getting to have the family they both deserved. Vader, however, would remain grateful for the opportunity the Force gave him so far. Maybe in a soon to be future, Luke’s anger would subdue with the moments they spent together lastly. Maybe it wasn’t too late for the sith lord to make amends for everything he had ever done, and for his child to forgive him.

His search led him to the workshop adjacent to the hangar. Opening the doors, he was greeted with the heavy scent of smoke and burn, and for a second he caught himself being grateful for the abomination of a mask that filtered that air for him. Focusing his lenses amidst the ashen fog, he found what he had been looking for. He had been correct in his calculations. His precious child was now, well, a child.

And to his sheer desperation, said child had absolutely nothing to do perched on a ladder, elbow deep in the complex, and very much in fire, machinery of a TIE fighter.

“What is the meaning of this?” he boomed, almost unnoticed among the blaring of the smoke detectors.

Startled, the boy flinched, and Vader’s heart skipped a beat when he saw him almost losing his grip on the ladder.

“None of your business!” the juvenile, grumbling voice of his offspring resonated in the room.

Unimpressed with such disrespectful behavior, the dark lord reached into the Force and yanked at the boy to get him out of that ladder, far from the safety hazard of this whole scenery. Luke, however, protested.

“Hey! Stop that! You’re gonna tear my arm off!” he cried.

“Then I suggest that you let go of your grip on the ship, young one.”

“I can’t, it’s gonna explode if I do!”

Metaphorical alarms blared in his mind as he scanned the engine in the Force, localizing the issue. Connecting the two cables his son struggled to hold together, he looked back at Luke.

“It is alright young one, I fixed it. Now let go.” he said more gently.

Testing the waters, the blonde carefully pulled his arm out of the insides of the ship, eyeing his work with a wary gaze, before his shoulders relaxed when it didn’t actually explode.Taking on the opportunity, Vader yanked once more and the small boy came to him at once, delivered softly at his feet with a quiet oof. Grabbing the infuriatingly troublesome boy by the shoulder, he led him out of the room. Now out of the room, the dark lord knelt in front of him and promptly patted him, checking for any injury.

“Are you alright young one? Were you hurt?” he asked hurriedly, the heavy hint of worry he heard in his own voice feeling foreign.

Frowning in a pout that Vader thought to be adorable rather than vindictive, Luke pried his prosthetics away.

“I’m fine, let go of me.” he said while crossing his arms.

“This was utterly reckless, little one. Do you realize what could’ve occurred? Does your health and security not matter to you? What would you have done, would’ve I been too late?” he rattled unconsciously.

Silence met him as Luke simply ignored him, still pouting with his arms crossed.

“Well? Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

At that, the boy turned on his heels and ran off in the corridors. Getting up, the black behemoth extended a hand, and the uncooperative child was squirming mid-air as Vader approached him anew.

“Let go of me!” he screamed at him.

“Not until you see reason and calm down, my son.” he tempered.

“I’m not your son! Let me go!” the child kept on squirming.

So he did remember, to some extent, the situation between the two of them. Nothing else could explain the claim he had more than once withstood ever since Bespin. Bringing his levitating, spitfire of a child closer, he was struck with how utterly confused he felt in the Force.

“Luke, we can discuss this once you calm down and cease this foolish banter-” he started, gently reaching a hand to the boy’s face that was eye level with him, before Luke cut him.

“Don’t touch me!” he yelled at his father, kicking his legs in the air and hitting Vader in the chest.

Immobilizing him through the Force, the anger subdued, replaced by utter terror and panic.

“What are you doing?!” his son cried, breathing erratically.

Holding him close, the sith lord put a gentle hand on his forehead and let his Force signature overwhelm the child’s as the heavy command of sleep struck the latter who slumped against him. Collecting his small frame in his arms, he led them both into his quarters where he laid Luke on the couch and draped him with his cape. They would have a long overdue conversation once the child would be well-rested and calmer.

-------

His head hurt. Well, it did not really hurt bad, but it felt weird. Like whenever he and Biggs would play on the roundabout at the park near Tosche Station for too long. Someone was speaking to him, he could hear. Then, a big hand tapped his arm and shook him a bit. For a minute, Luke thought uncle Owen was waking him up. But then, he remembered. Remember was a big word, if he was honest. It actually felt like there was someone else in his head, telling him that the things he was living lately were not okay.

He could see images of people he didn’t exactly know who they were, places he knew even less. But somehow, he knew whatever what his head told him, he knew it was true. Like he had always known, aunt Beru and uncle Owen lied when they told him his father had been a navigator on a spice freighter. He faintly remembers the black mask of a man he knew to be a certain Darth Vader, which he also knew to be a bad guy. He remembered images of him attacking him with a red sword, but strangely enough, he also remembers him reading him a bedtime story and carrying him on his shoulders while talking to him about ships. He didn’t know what was real and what was not, he had no idea what was going on and it scared him and he wanted to cry. He wanted Beru. One sentence, however, rang true and anchored his thoughts.

I am your father.

For some reason, however, he also knew in his head that he didn’t want to believe that.

“Luke?” he heard above him.

Slowly opening his eyes, he saw Vader looking at him close. He sat up, a fist scratching his eyes.

“What do you want?” he mumbled. He did remember being mad at him this morning. He didn’t like to be yelled at.

In his head, he could tell the man behind the mask was looking at him like some kind of puppy you think is cute. He didn’t like that. He wasn’t a puppy, or a baby at all. He was 6, and Vader had no right to treat him like a little child.

“I have brought you lunch, young one.”

“M’not hungry.”

Now that he mentioned it, he was very hungry. His tummy hurt. But he would not show this to Darth Vader.

“Is that so?” he answered. He sounded like he was mocking Luke. He didn’t like that at all, it was mean and now he knew for a fact he didn’t like the man at all.

Crossing his arms, he simply ignored him. Aunt Beru always said the best answer to rude persons was to ignore them, and he would do just that.

“Little one, you should eat. It isn’t good for you to go that long without food. Besides, you are going to need energy if you want to keep working on that TIE.” Vader taunted him.

Maybe he was right. Also, if he ate, maybe the man would go away and let him be.

“Kay.” he said.

From a small table behind him, Vader grabbed a shiny trail with a plate and a fork. Luke frowned at the sight of green in the plate.

“I don’t want that.” he frowned.

“These are vegetables, young one. You need them if you want to be strong.”

“I don’t like vegetables.” he turned his head the other way.

The big hand grabbed his chin and forced him to look at Vader again.

“You didn’t even taste them. How could you know you don’t like them?”

“I don’t want that.” Luke repeated stubbornly.

“Then you are not hungry.”

The man was unnerving. He was treating Luke like a baby again. What was next, would he try the plane trick on him? He wanted him to go away. Grabbing the plate, the boy looked up defiantly.

“Okay, I’ll eat it. Now go away.”

“Why is that?” For some reason, Vader seemed genuinely curious. Either he was stupid or he really thought Luke was.

“I’m not a baby, I can eat alone!” he stormed.

In his head, the boy just knew the man was amused. He hated that.

“Alright young one, alright. I am leaving.”

------

After their amusing, to say the least, altercation, the dark lord left Luke some space and went back to the workshop to childproof the entire place. He had promised the boy to let him work on the ships. Only to that condition he seemed to agree. And considering how spirited his son was, he had a feeling any alteration to this deal would bring devastating consequences.
Regardless of his enjoyment of the situation, the black behemoth couldn’t help a deep rooted worry to cloud his mind. Luke was confused, lost, and it hurt him. While he had been asleep, Vader had dug into his unconscious mind, trying to grasp the lengths of Luke’s comprehension of the late events, and had felt his fear.

The boy was a mess, and he was far too young to process it all. Working his hands on something he enjoyed was without a doubt the only thing that would keep him sane until everything would make sense again.

Returning to his quarters, the sith collected his son to take him to the workshop. Luke was upset having most of the tools and machinery taken away from him for the sake of safety hazards, and begrudgingly tolerated Vader chaperoning him. Still, the latter knew for sure, however the blonde would try to conceal it, that he actually had a good time, and that it helped him ease his sporadic mind.
After a full afternoon of work, the black behemoth was surprised to find the boy actually had some energy left in him. Allowing him to watch a few videos on the holonet, he sat next to him on the couch, meditating.

After a while, his small head drooped treacherously close to Vader’s shoulders. Letting his exhausted body rest atop of his, he carded a hand into his hair as his precious child sighed peacefully. Sending waves of love into the Force, the whole world could’ve collapsed without him knowing.

Chapter Text

Day -3 before Empire's Day, 3ABY.

For the dozens of Death Squadron soldiers standing at attention in the main hangar, Darth Vader was the same as ever: A blood-chilling presence whose overall displeasure could be felt throughout the whole flagship. Standing there with his arms crossed and eyeing his men’s every move, the man was an everyday sight.

Would these men master the ways of the Force, they would've been able to make out a shift in the cold atmosphere weighting on them, or more accurately, a shift in the target of the usual disappointment that had long since become Vader’s personality.

The hangar had suddenly been emptied of its crew with a confusing urgency. A limited amount of the dark lord’s most trusted and capable men had then filled the place, weapon set to stun and ready to fire, as their target was slowly herded inside by an organized swarm of TIEs. With a loud, echoing thud, Vader’s TIE advanced was sheathed in it’s docking bay, successfully herded by the Executor’s tractor beam.

Except Vader wasn’t the one sitting in the cockpit.

His son was. His impossible, stubborn, reckless, infuriating-

“Bring him to me.” He almost growled to the death troopers next to him.

The familiar mop of blonde hair came into view as his men – not so delicately, to Vader’s satisfaction – handled the struggling teenager and deposited him on his knees before the sith lord.

“Should we have him cuffed, my lord?” one of the soldiers asked.

“That will not be necessary. Dismissed. All of you.” he answered.

To the dark lord’s utter disbelief, the boy seemingly took it as a cue as he too got up, ready to take a step towards the exit.

“Not, so, fast.” The black clad behemoth hissed dangerously.

Only when the last of the troopers had left the hangar and closed the door behind them, Vader deigned to turn and face his offspring.

“Good morning, my son.” The vocoder did nothing to alter the sarcasm dripping in the man’s tone.

The black mask tilted as the sith lord contemplated Luke’s new form. Where yesterday there had been an all too reckless but adorable nonetheless six years old child, there was now an even more reckless, however much fiercer, teenager. Vader dismissed a passing feeling of grief as he stated the loss of some of Luke’s most juvenile features he had grown to adore. He mentally braced himself for whatever behaviors he would have to put up with, now that he had a fourteen years old to deal with.

“Kriff you.”

May the Force give me the strength to not sever another of his limbs before dusk.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The door to Luke’s quarters opened with a familiar woosh as Vader all but threw his uncooperative son in his room.

“What in this empty, foolish brain of yours did you think you would achieve with that little stunt?!” the vocoder boomed.

Awkward silence filled the room as his question was dutifully ignored by the teenager in front of him.

“You will answer me when I’m talking to you!” Guilt briefly crossed his mind at the sight of Luke flinching, but the fury came back at full force at the latter’s answer.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe escaping the crazy guy who kidnapped me a few days ago.” For some reason, the boy’s nonchalant disrespect triggered a genuine exasperation Vader hadn’t felt in decades.

“Don’t you dare talk to me that way!”

“Make up your damn mind! You asked me to answer you!”

A nonsensical grumble came out of Vader’s vocoder as the man genuinely bit his tongue, at a loss of words to face such disrespectful, teenage backtalk. He was the Emperor’s Fist, feared galaxy-wide sith lord for Force’s sake. But this… boy, this boy was making him question his sanity. Standing dumbfounded in the middle of the room, the dark lord incredulously watched Luke walk away without a care in the world.

“Where do you think you are going?!”

“That’s none of your busine- hey!” the boy was cut in his insolence by a metaphysical grip pushing him back at his father’s feet.

“I said where-”

“To the bathroom, stars! Am I not allowed to do that either? Do you want to hold it for me or something?!”

“You better lose that attitude or-”

“Or what?”

The grip was released before strangling the boy became too much of a tempting option. Luke got up with a glare and resumed his walk towards the freshers with a quickened pace. Trying to occupy his mind in a desperate attempt to keep an ounce of self control, Vader’s eyes settled on the screen that adorned the wall before the couch.

More talking would do them no good, the sith lord knew. At this rate, it wouldn’t take long before hurtful things that can’t be unsaid -or worse -would come out and clearly that would do the pair no good. Especially if Vader intended to get to know Luke the way he wanted. Besides, thanks to his son’s attempt at escape, the black-clad behemoth wasn’t given any rest, and meditation was more than overdue at this point. However, that didn’t mean he couldn’t do something to show the boy he didn’t condone such behavior.

“I am leaving for the morning, but we will end this discussion when I’m back. I am also cutting your access to the holonet.” He announced in a tone that didn’t leave room for compromise.

“Whatever.” came muffled from the freshers, unimpressed.

This child would fray his nerves sooner or later, he just knew it.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

In the privacy of his hyperbaric chambers, Darth Vader let out a sigh. After an hour of desperately attempting to reach his usual meditative state, the man settled on opening the holonet. Through the Force, his thoughts typed on their own accord and the sith lord found himself looking, in rightful confusion, at a parenting forum page.

Before his most rational self would close the holonet, a – definitely not as rational – part of him begged him to find the answers to his questions so that he could have a well deserved moment of peace. The page displayed some testimonies of desperate parents of teenagers sharing their experience and asking for a piece of advice on how to deal with one’s offspring.

Although he didn’t read every single shared experience, he could make out a regular pattern in teenage behavior that both comforted - Luke was normal! -and exhausted him. The most mentioned behaviors included an abnormal use of swears, heightened sensitivity and rebellious tendencies. In other words, for the following fifteen hours he would have to deal with an over dramatic disobedient child. For the first time since the events of Kamino, Vader was relieved Luke would soon be back to his current self.

Though all things considered, twenty-two years old Luke remotely corresponded to this depiction. Not that telling him would be a good idea for the day.

Letting out another sigh, the sith let his thoughts wander on their own. Images of Obi-Wan lecturing a young Anakin Skywalker at the Jedi temple of Coruscant, all those decades ago, made their way back to him unwanted. Looking back, the sith lord could admit he had not exactly been the most… pleasant teenager. However, he doubted he had ever been as infuriating. Had he?

As the infamous mask descended onto Vader’s scarred face, his resolve strengthened anew. He would come back to Luke’s quarters and finish what he had started. Opening the doors, the dark lord’s son wasn’t in the main room. Assuming the boy was probably in the attached bedroom, he started:

“I advise you to come out this instant, young one. You owe me an explanation as to why you saw fit to steal my ship to vainly get back to your pathetic rebellion.”

Once more his speech was met with silence. Once more the sith could feel his familiar temper rising. Remembering the few pieces of advice he read, he forced himself to remain calm as he headed to the bedroom, where he expected his son to be.

Except the boy wasn’t there. Stepping back in the main room, a light caught his eye. The screen he had deactivated as a punishment was on, which really shouldn’t surprise him considering the child’s abilities in technology. The text it read, however, was a little more bothering.

Unimpressed, the black clad behemoth hooked his thumbs to his belt and suppressed what felt like a thousandth sigh the vocoder wouldn’t be able to let out anyway. Before the sith lord could consider finding the newly runaway child, the doors opened. Piett stood at the entrance, leading three death troopers in.

“My lord, we found this young man wearing stolen armorwear and pretending to be part of Death Squadron.”

The three soldiers stepped apart to reveal the frowning teenager, cuffed and aimed with a blaster hopefully set to stun.

“Bring him to me, Admiral.”

“At once, my lord.”

Ever the efficient and obedient man, Firmus obliged and firmly shoved the boy towards Vader before excusing himself and his men out of the rooms to resume their respective occupations.

“Did you really think you would go unnoticed, my son?” He hoped his vocoder could convey both his sheer incredulity and amusement as he looked at the teen.

“Why not?”

It was Darth Vader’s turn to answer with silence, simply glancing at the boy up and down for the latter to catch on his train of thoughts. The blonde shot a look towards the nearby mirror before his face revealed every step of his mind puzzling out the issue.

“Oh.” Luke simply said.

The rebel might have grown significantly throughout the night, he however remained quite short and almost alarmingly thin. The armor he had borrowed - in a perfectly legally acceptable way, Vader was sure - seemed to float around his slender shape. The helmet tilted and there was undoubtedly enough place to fit two Luke into the chest piece of the clothing.

“What were you thinking?”

“Okay I get it, you don’t need to spend the day reminding him how stupid this was.” Luke mumbled to himself.

“How about we have lunch, young one? Surely you must be hungry after all this… moving around.”

“With you? No thanks. I’d rather eat alone in my room if you’ll let me.”

Darth Vader, supreme commander of the Empire, did not feel something ache in his chest at that answer.

“What?” Luke asked, seemingly picking up on Vader’s sudden change of mood, “Am I not allowed privacy either?”

“Privacy? Two days ago you made me chase your naked self across the ship, stuck to me the whole cycle and begged me to sleep with you.”

“Alright alright! Stars, you didn’t have to remind me!” The boy yelped, cheeks flushed. “Can I eat alone or not?” He looked like he wanted to run away.

Looking fondly at his child, Vader simply gestured to him to have it his way before Luke turned away and walked towards his bedroom. For a second, however, the black clad behemoth spotted blood on his face as alarms blared inside his mind.

“What happened to your face?” he inquired worriedly.

“Huh?”

The sith lord strode closer and lightly grasped the boy’s chin. “You are bleeding.”

Tugging Vader’s hand away from his face, Luke frowned and brought his own fingers to the bleeding spot.“It’s nothing.”

“Nothing?” Vader didn’t miss the embarrassment in Luke’s eyes.

“I just – it’s stupid really – I just popped a pimple that’s it. Nothing to worry about, can we move on please?” The boy spoke fast, almost too fast for his father to understand.

“I will have a droid bring your lunch, young one.” The sith lord changed the subject to ease the boy.

“Thanks.”

As they both parted their own separate ways – Luke to his bedroom and Vader out of his son’s quarters -, an idea sprung into the sith lord’s mind as the earlier events came to his thoughts. He wouldn’t want his sweet child to think he could get away with such behavior, would he?

The Force swirled around one of the cables of the holonet screen to detach it. With said cable following him dutifully, Vader left Luke’s quarters and locked the doors late enough to hear a muffled “Stars Father you’re ruining my life!” come from behind him. The sith lord’s lips stretched in an absent-minded smile. This day ought to be entertaining.

Chapter Text

Day -2 before Empire’s Day, 3ABY

Standing at attention before Lord Vader’s desk, Admiral Piett had to remind himself how to breathe. Overall, being anywhere near the sith lord’s office was the biggest challenge any imperial aboard the Executor could face throughout their career. But being in the office and bringing such news? A one way ticket to a certain death, Firmus knew. The Supreme Commander’s crew often joked – or not – about Vader’s office being some kind of haunted room, where people could be seen entering but never leaving.

Not alive, to the least.

So far, it had been a rather normal day, as far as normal goes for someone working for the Emperor’s Fist. Firmus was overseeing the new intern’s training when Lord Vader had called for him on the comlink. The black-clad behemoth was held by a crucial meeting with some politicians, one he could not make his way out of. He, however, had felt a disturbance coming from Skywalker’s rooms and sent the Admiral to check on the prisoner.

As always, the sith lord’s intuition had hit right, for when Piett arrived in the rebel’s quarters, the latter was nowhere to be found. The slowly panicking man had ordered a search patrol to be conducted with no further delay everywhere on the ship. Unsuccessful, the searching party led him to the main hangar.

The absence of Lord Vader’s TIE advanced was no surprise.

Now bracing for whatever was to come, the faithful Admiral resigned himself to accept his fate, undoubtedly tragic and pathetic. Here it comes, Firmus thought as his commander slowly rose from his chair. Piett had never been a fervent believer of the Force, no matter how Vader’s abilities struck him on a daily basis. On his last moments, however, the man found himself sending it a quick prayer, hoping it would grant him the mercy of a quick death and-

“Dismissed.” The man before him waved him off with an abstract motion of his hand.

Despite the very clear, very confusing order, the Imperial stood struck motionless, frozen on the spot. Had he heard that right?

“M- my lord?”

“He might as well be at the other side of the galaxy as we speak, I no longer need your services for the moment.”

For a quick passing second, the black-clad behemoth reminded Firmus of nothing more than an exhausted parent, disappointed yet not surprised by their child’s antics. With a somewhat firm nod, he excused himself out of the room, his hazy mind locked in a trance. Had he really lived this down?

As the doors to Vader’s office closed behind him, Piett released a sigh he had thought for a fact he would never be given the luxury to even hold.

---

He wasn’t surprised. He shouldn’t be. The boy’s escape had already come to a close yesterday, countered only by the misfortune of his predicament. With no more limits to his plans, it was only natural he would succeed.

And yet, something ached in Vader’s heart.

He had hoped that maybe the boy would’ve been willing to stay. Looking back, the sith lord felt foolish. How could such an exceptional being ever want to be anywhere near someone like him? To be able to call this wonderful child his own was already too much of an honor. It should be enough for him. To live the rest of his miserable survival knowing he had participated in bringing such a marvel to life should be enough.

However, ever since he was given a glimpse of what could’ve been, he wanted more. No. He needed more. Such greed once had been Anakin’s downfall, and had only sharpened overtime with the power of the dark side. The familiar feeling of desperation, of yearn brought back unwanted memories from a life he had swore to leave behind.

Conflict tore his ravaged mind apart as two parts of him tried to take over. Like he once had wanted to give her, he wished to offer Luke the galaxy he rightfully deserved. A galaxy the boy had made very clear he didn’t want. The other part – that was not the very destroyed, very dead Anakin – longed to leave everything behind to be near his son.

Like a devil’s advocate stuck in the paradox of the two rival wills, Vader sat mask off in his meditation pod, holding a drawing 3 years old Luke had gifted him a few days prior like a wonder to cherish.

--------

With a deep sigh, Luke threw himself on his bunk, face first into the rusty pillow. The blonde had arrived at the base shortly after noon. He had spent the whole afternoon standing before a dazed Leia - and basically before the entirety of Home One – explaining with the smallest amount of details the events of Kamino and the week that had followed.

He and the Princess had then argued about Luke refusing to run medical tests to ensure nothing was wrong with him and to hopefully pierce the veil of mystery surrounding his past condition. Surprisingly, Han was the one to settle the argument. Or more accurately, made Chewie take the young rebel by force and have him spend the last two hours in the infirmary.

Out of the med bay, the already upset blonde was swarmed with questions from his wingmates, so much that Leia had to intervene for them to give him some room. Sure, Luke was glad to be home. And sure, his friend's worry was moving. But stars he could use a good night of sleep, and some me-time.

With another satisfied sigh, the boy laid on his back. Would someone have told him a week ago he would miss the uncomfortable, hard mattress – if you could even call it that – of the base, he would’ve laughed in their face. Closing his eyes, the blonde was more than ready to get some rest and forget everything that happened.

A grin made its way onto his face as he thought about the day waiting for him tomorrow. He would wake up - with his back sore from the harsh bunk -, have a not-so-nice breakfast with his wingmates cracking jokes like they always did, and spend the day fixing Artoo. The poor thing had spent the week with a restraining bolt, and Luke didn’t doubt the astromech would need an oil bath after everything the pair had been through.

A laugh threatened to escape him as he recalled the difficulty with which he hoisted the droid into the TIE Advanced after breaking it out of a storage room. It was a shame the Empire didn’t use astromech like the Rebellion did on their X-Wings. In Luke’s opinion, an astromech was the best part of flying. Especially Artoo. He would’ve hated to lose him.

On their own accord, his thoughts derived from the stolen TIE Advanced to its owner. Images of the week played in the young rebel’s mind as guilt rose into his chest. The sith lord had been more than patient – arguably – with his antics, to the boy’s surprise. He would’ve expected the black-clad behemoth, of all people, to have a drastically different behavior towards him.

Hours passed in a blur as Luke laid in the dark, his thoughts analyzing each of the sith lord’s actions throughout the week against his will while the rational part of him kept dismissing any implication behind them.

The rebel didn’t want to think about the way there had been rooms for him aboard the Executor before he even arrived, about how gentle the sith lord was with him, about how… fatherly, he had felt. The boy had spent his childhood daydreaming about the things his father could’ve done for him. But ironically, now that the Force had given him just that, he found himself scared to give in.

Darth Vader was a monster. There had never been any doubt surrounding that galaxy-known fact. He hadn’t forgotten, let alone forgiven the things his friends had to endure because of him, hadn’t forgotten about Ben, Biggs, his aunt and uncle and everything he lost to the Empire his father had allowed to rise.

But Force knew how bad he had wanted this his whole life. And stars, it was there for him to reach. He could have it.

Groaning, the boy brought his hands to cover his eyes. Why did everything always have to be so kriffing complicated? Turning towards the digital clock adorning the door, Luke sighed. The sun would rise in less than one hour. So much for the resting night he had dreamed about all day. Next to the hour, the date shone brightly, springing an idea into his conflicted mind.

Day -1 before Empire’s Day, 3ABY

Sitting in the meditation pod, Vader stilled, as if moving an inch would make the blissful moment vanish. Since Luke’s… departure, an entire day had passed by. During these 24 hours, the sith lord had tried not to think about how agonizingly slow and boring life had gotten without his son by his side, and had tried not to think about the boy at all. And Force knew how miserably he had failed.

The sith lord had been standing in another endless meeting when the notification from Piett on his comlink had brought back the sense of living in the span of a second. The TIE Advanced was back into the hangar. Hope rising, the black-clad behemoth had strangled another entitled politician who dared pointing out that leaving a meeting was bad manners and had headed to the hangar.

To his disappointment, only the TIE Advanced had made its way back on the Executor. Someone had set it on automatic flying and had entered the flagship’s coordinates.

To his surprise, however, there was something waiting for him on the pilot’s seat. The box currently rested on the sith lord’s knees as his eyes roamed the small piece of filmsi for the umpteenth time.

A birthday invitation. His son had sent him a birthday invitation. And wanted him to come. For the first time in almost 23 years, Vader was grateful the suit breathed for him, because at this point, the sith lord was sure he would have forgotten how to do it himself. Plunging his hands into the box with urgency, the dark lord pulled out a worn, time ravaged piece of fabric. Turning it around, a text came into view. Four letters embroidered in a smooth fabric: L U K E

It was - had been- Luke’s baby blanket. Like the ones Padme and him had long discussed over, trying to choose the softest, the most perfect blanket for a child that would be even more perfect. Vader winced as the battered skin of his cheeks ignited. Reaching a prosthetic to his scarred face, he pulled out his hand to see what had just dripped onto his face.

As a trail of water slid on the surface of his gloved finger, Vader realized he was crying.