Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

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Just a few weeks ago, Empire Day had been celebrated across the galaxy. He knew his father detested that holiday but a special effort was always made for Luke because he had the bad luck of sharing his birthday with the Empire. Bail always said it was a blessing and that he was reminded that not everything had been lost that day. A light also came into the galaxy, and he could at least think of Luke when forced to watch the Empire Day’s parade fireworks.

Luke knew his father hated the Empire, and the Emperor especially, who ruled through fear and his vast fleet; bombarding planets into submission at the slightest resistance and annihilating entire species to further his expansion or to simply please his whims. He had the entire Jedi Order wiped out. In its place he installed his own dark disciples, the Inquisitors, and rounded up and killed Force sensitive beings. And not to forget his worst servant. The dark shadow he had at his heels ready to send out when and where he pleased: Darth Vader, the Second in Command and the Supreme Leader of the Imperial Forces. Whenever Luke’s father gave him classified reports about the Empire’s atrocities they usually sported Vader’s name on top of them.

Alderaan was a peaceful planet, the only non-civilians were the royal guard dedicated to the security of the royal family. And of course the gray behemoth of a building planted in Aldera's center, the Imperial garrison. Bail had seethed when he returned from Coruscant to tell Luke and Breha that the Emperor had decreed its installation. Officially it was to increase the sector’s security and protect the people of Alderaan. In truth, it was Bail’s punishment for strongly opposing a new legislation granting vast authority to Imperial officers, protecting them from law enforcement and even granting them rights to ‘pressure’ beings if it was deemed necessary to keep the peace. Which translated to them being allowed to torture whom they wished and being protected from the law when doing so.

The garrison had been built and the Imperial presence had increased. Sometimes Luke wondered if his father wasn’t deeper involved in some organized resistance. But just like him, the Emperor couldn’t prove it. Alderaan kept its status and the Organas were still highly regarded in the eyes of their people, fellow royalty and planetary leaders across the Core and Mid Rim. This status protected them; their greatest asset, his father always said. Without it they would suffer the same fate of smaller and less important planets on which Imperial rule ran heavy.

“Your Highness?”

A voice startled Luke from his musings. His tutor looked at him sternly. “Excuse me, I was… in my thoughts.”

“That is quite all right, Your Highness,” his tutor said, sounding like it wasn’t all right. “But please turn your focus now to your studies. As I said, the Rim colonization…”

But he didn’t get any further than that. Heated voices through the closed door made both look in that direction. Disjointed pieces of conversation drifted through.

“…cannot allow you to ent…”

“…tep aside, or…”

Luke frowned and stood half up as the door opened, revealing two palace guards trying to keep a bunch of Imperial Stormtroopers from entering the room – with little success. Two shots rang out and the guards slumped to the floor, stunned. His tutor's shocked expression mimicked Luke’s own, but he moved to intercept the officer that entered and whose eyes were locked on Luke.

“You are not allowed to…”

“Step aside,” the officer sneered. His tutor refused to budge. Behind the officer the stormtroopers approached.

“May I enquire what…” his tutor began again only to be roughly shoved out of the way.

“You may not,” the officer said, his eyes not leaving Luke for a second. “Your Highness, you are required to come with us.” A politely dressed demand. Luke clenched his teeth.

“For what matter?” he asked, trying to draw on all his diplomacy skills to hide the creeping fear and anger in his stomach.

“My superior will explain to you in great detail, Prince,” the officer answered, measuring him up with his eyes. “Now, if you would follow me.”

“Prince Luke will remain where he is. You have no right to enter the palace, much less to shoot His Highness’s escort and… ufff.” His tutor broke off as one of the troopers’ armored fist buried itself in his gut and he doubled over. The officer sneered at Luke’s shock.

“Leave him alone,” Luke hissed.

“Of course. If you would please come then, Your Highness.” Two troopers approached, each placing a hand on his shoulders to march him away. Luke shook them off indignantly, stepping forward.

“I will,” he replied stiffly.

“Good, this way, Highness.” The officer went out of the room and Luke was ushered out by the troopers, who didn’t try to seize him again but kept close enough to grab him. He had no choice but to follow the officer past the stunned guards. His tutor followed behind. Luke shared a quick worried gaze with him and was relieved when he fell behind and was dissuaded from accompanying them to wherever they were going.

It soon became clear that they were heading for the main wing of the palace and that these Imperials were not the only ones who had intruded into their peaceful home. Crowding their path were an inordinate amount of white armored stormtroopers and officers in dull grey uniform, keeping any palace guards from coming to Luke’s help.

Soon they reached the wide open double doors into the main reception hall. Luke’s father and mother, Bail and Breha Organa, were surrounded by many more Imperials. But Luke’s eyes were caught by someone else. Facing them was the black nightmare of the galaxy. Like a cancerous spot in the soft pastel surroundings, the dark imposing form of Lord Vader stood, his black cape falling to the floor. His leather gloved finger was raised at his father, who looked livid - angrier than Luke had ever seen his usually composed father. Next to Vader stood Alderaan’s portly governor, an Imperial puppet appointed to exercise control and spy on them.

At Luke’s entrance Vader’s mask turned to him a little. “Ah, so this is the young prince.” His deep voice sounded even more menacing live than it had on recordings or the HoloNet. It made Luke’s hair stand on end.

“Yes, my Lord,” the officer that had dragged him here answered. 

The governor’s cold eyes fixed on Luke. “Yes, my Lord, I can confirm his identity,” he drawled.

Vader turned to face him fully and Luke had to force himself not to step back. He straightened his back and raised his head defiantly, meeting the masked gaze. “I see,” Vader said curtly. “Very well, you will accompany me, Prince Luke.”

“He will remain here,” Bail shouted, causing Vader to turn back to him. Luke’s mind spun, what did he mean… accompany? He would never go anywhere with that monster.

“The Emperor is most displeased with your increasing insolence, Viceroy. I did not think you even capable of openly supporting the insurgency, harboring known traitors and raising discord in the Senate.”

“You have no proof for any of your…”

“I would advise you to carefully consider that from now on your actions will have direct consequences for the prince.”

Luke felt the color drain from his face, the situation catching up to him. Vader wanted to take him and coerce his father to comply with their twisted plans. He stiffened, catching his mother’s worried gaze.

“… he will remain exactly here, in the palace.”

“You need not worry, Viceroy. He will be treated well and with the respect due to his title. As long as you consider your steps and your loyalty to the Emperor cannot be doubted again.”

Bail took a step toward Luke, prompting two troopers to raise their blasters at him. He stopped and looked at Vader, face red with anger but his voice betrayed fear. “You have no right to take my son…”

“That is where you are mistaken, Viceroy.”

“I will not come with you,” Luke threw in, finally catching his voice and tensing up, ready to fight.

“Silence, boy,” Vader’s finger shot up, pointing at him. “It would be best to convince your father that your presence aboard my ship is enough to ensure his compliance. It would be most unfortunate if your mother was required to come as well.”

“No!” Luke burst out.

“I will! Instead of Luke,” Breha said quickly, stepping forward, but Luke shook his head.

“A generous offer, my Lady,” Vader said, radiating cruel amusement. “But I feel your place is at your husband’s side. When the Viceroy feels the need to disturb the peace again, you should remind him of the fate that awaits your son.”

Bail moved closer to Vader, his expression imploring now. “No, please. I… take me, instead of him. I’ll…”

“Enough of this, Viceroy,” Vader hissed. “For your sake and your son’s, begin undoing the damage you have done. Leaders in several systems have openly declared their agreement with your sentiments. You will help keep the peace that you have so willfully endangered. I suggest you begin with assisting the governor in rounding up the dissidents rallying in Castanta.”

With that, Vader stalked over to Luke, who could only gape. He stumbled backward but couldn’t avoid Vader’s hand wrapping around his bicep. 

“Father…” he called, trying to reach for his parents.

Bail and Breha both tried to get to him but more troopers crowded in to keep them apart. Vader strode off, dragging Luke with him. Luke struggled against his grip but it was strong as durasteel. He twisted around and managed to catch a last glimpse of his parents’ faces, both terrified for him, before he was whisked around a corner. He struggled to match Vader’s huge strides and was relieved when Vader let go of him. 

“Walk, Prince, or I will make you,” Vader growled. 

Luke scowled but fell into step behind Vader. Surrounded by so many Imperials he had no option but to comply.

His mind was spinning as he was marched through the palace and out into the courtyard where a gleaming shuttle sat. Usually Luke would be thrilled to see one up close. Luke had a great passion for space ships and piloting. He had pleaded with his father countless times that he didn’t want to be a prince, and would rather just fly, until he had accepted that his position was too important to waste.

Now he balked at the sight of the shuttle. Vader was serious.

“Bring him,” the dark voice ordered at his resistance. Two stormtroopers grabbed him and shoved him on, not letting go this time when he tried to shake them off. He was pushed after Vader, up the boarding ramp and into the passenger compartment. He was ordered to sit down. Luke crossed his arms instead.

“Where are you taking me?” he demanded, all his royal displeasure gathered in his voice. His seething eyes were set on Vader, who had his back on to him.

“Sit down, Your Highness,” Vader’s voice was a low growl as he turned to him. “Follow the instructions given and you can expect to be treated well.”

“I will not be a pawn in your game,” Luke snarled back. Before he could register the movement Vader lashed out, soundly backhanding him. Luke gasped in pain. A gloved hand grasped his chin, tilting his head up and forcing him to look at the impassive mask uncomfortably close to his face. Vader's ominous breathing sounded much louder in the shuttle's confined space and it chilled Luke to the core.

“You should take care, Prince. You will be my guest for the foreseeable future, and whether you spend that time in a cell or in more comfortable quarters depends on you. Do you understand?”

The grip tightened painfully until Luke ground out. “Yes.”

“Good. From now on you will be more respectful.” Vader let go of his chin and stalked into the cockpit. Luke balled his trembling hands but complied when a firm request was made to sit down. Soon the shuttle’s repulsors activated and they blasted away from Alderaan, a cold knot of dread rooting deep inside of him.

The shuttle ride was short, Vader’s Star Destroyer must have been in orbit. With creaking landing struts they docked. The shuttle’s boarding ramp hissed open, fumes and smoke filled the hangar beyond. Vader walked past him down the ramp, disregarding him completely. Then Luke was asked to stand and follow. He grudgingly obeyed.

The fumes cleared, revealing a sleek hangar filled with rows upon rows of stormtroopers and other Imperials standing at attention to greet their commander. What a pointless show of force, Luke thought. He followed a few steps behind Vader, two troopers again at his heels.

He tried to put on a mask of being unfazed but he was painfully aware of his burning face, surely still bright red where Vader had hit him. Regardless, he was a prince and he wouldn’t let himself be cowed by that man. He needed to be strong for his father. So he held his back straight and made a face of supreme distaste and irritation.

At the end of the parallel lines of stormtroopers, Vader stopped and stood before the two senior officers. An admiral and a captain, Luke recognized the rank plates. The admiral regarded him with open curiosity and disdain, a small sneer playing around his lips. The captain was also considering him with interest, but radiated more wariness.

“Admiral,” Vader addressed the man who snapped his attention away from Luke and to his commander. “Have the ship rejoin the fleet.”

“Yes, my Lord,” the man saluted, waving sharply at another officer to relay the order.

“Captain,” Vader turned to the other officer. “Escort the prince to his quarters.” Vader barely waited for the captain to acknowledge his order before he strode away with the admiral. The captain looked at Luke.

“This way, Your Highness,” he gestured to another hangar exit and when Luke didn’t reply he nodded to the troopers behind Luke. He reluctantly moved, it wouldn’t do him any good to be dragged there kicking and screaming. The captain seemed satisfied as he turned and marched out of the hangar. Luke followed, the troopers close behind.

After a few turbolift rides and quite a walking distance, Luke was brought to a door. The captain keyed it open and gestured to him. “Enter, Highness.” Luke bit his lip but did as he was told. The captain followed him in with the troopers.

“Search him,” the captain ordered. Before Luke could protest he was roughly patted down and his comlink was confiscated. “You will be confined to these quarters for the time being,” the captain addressed him, his eyes communicating reservation but also alertness. “Though you should keep in mind that, should you choose to be uncooperative, there are other facilities aboard to contain you.”

Luke glared and bit back a rather unprincely retort. He raised his chin and gave a small courteous nod.

“Well, make yourself at home, Prince,” the captain said, leaving the quarters with the troopers in tow. The door whooshed shut and Luke heard the lock click. He stared at it for a long moment and then closed his eyes, briefly giving into the mounting despair he felt. 

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From the moment Captain Piett had laid eyes on Vader's newest political hostage he had swallowed his scorn. The Prince of Alderaan was a boy really; slight, small and painfully young. Poor kid, Piett thought privately. He supposed the boy couldn’t be held accountable for his father's obnoxious pacifist ways. The Viceroy seemed to think peace just happened. Piett knew better. Peace had to be fought for, maintained and defended against those who wished to disturb it. Organa was endangering the peace that Piett and every other officer in the navy was striving for, often paying for it with their lives.

The boy was escorted down the aisle after Vader, his white robes hugging his slight frame. He held himself upright and eyed the assembly around him with deliberate arrogance. But when he came closer Piett could see the beginnings of a bruise forming on his cheek, indicating that the young prince had not come quietly - or at least not quietly enough for Lord Vader's taste.

Beside him he heard Admiral Ozzel huff disparagingly, but Piett forced himself not to mock the boy. He was young, but Piett was sure that wouldn’t stop Vader from punishing the prince for his father’s every misstep. 

Making hostages of opponents’ children was distasteful and against Piett’s sense of honor, but orders had to be followed. And if the Emperor and Lord Vader decreed the prince be detained to stop his idiot father’s dangerous behavior, it was not his place to question it. He forced his attention back to his commander, who ordered the admiral to return the Executor to the fleet. Lord Vader then put Piett in charge of the young prince before striding off without looking at the boy again. The prince fixed Piett with piercing blue eyes. Piett took a deep breath. “This way, Your Highness.”

When the boy didn’t move Piett thought it best to avoid a scene and gestured to the troopers flanking the boy. If His Royalness chose to throw a tantrum in the crowded hangar he'd be forced to punish him, something Piett really didn't want to do. Luckily for the prince, he seemed to accept that he would gain nothing from lashing out. Piett led the way to the guest quarters prepared for the hostage. They had been fitted with reinforced security doors and all means of communication had been disabled.

After the prince entered Piett had him searched and took his comlink. Whoever had arrested the boy should’ve done it already, he thought. In proximity he was even more aware of the boy’s youth. He couldn't be of age. But he held himself well. Piett had seen seasoned officers cowering at being the center of Lord Vader’s attention. This young prince had tried to keep his nerves together. He spared a moment to caution his young charge on the consequences of undesirable behavior. Letting the words sink in, he left the boy to himself.

He ordered the guards posted to use non-lethal means in the event of an escape attempt and let his feet carry him to the officer’s lounge, his shift over with the prince’s delivery. He fell into one of the cozy armchairs and clutched his drink, intent to purge the boy from his mind. However, his attempt at some much-needed relaxation was quickly disturbed.

“Ah, Firmus,” someone said behind him. He turned to see General Veers. “Heard you are chaperoning that royal brat?”

Piett shrugged, unwilling to discuss the boy. But General Veers was not one to give up easily. He flopped into the chair across from the captain, who regarded him wearily.

“So, what’s he like?”

Piett breathed deep. “Young…” he said, hearing his own voice sound less than happy.

The general nodded. “That he is,” he agreed.

“How would you know?” Piett frowned.

“He’s royalty, not like he has much of a private life.”

“Well, General. I never took you for one to read royal gossip,” Piett bestowed the general a small smile.

“Bantha shit, I looked him up. Research, Captain. There is lots about him on the HoloNet. They are treated like celebrities, his idiot parents and the kid. He’s been dragged in front of holocams since he could walk.” Veers grinned.

Piett nodded. It made sense. The Organas were extremely popular, and not just on their home planet. “So what did you find out about him? He can’t be of age, can he?” Piett asked.

“He’s not,” the general confirmed. “He recently turned sixteen.”

Piett raised his eyebrows. Even younger than he had thought.

“Well, he won’t get much older, if his father doesn't do a turnabout,” the general huffed. Piett gave him a displeased look. “Well, that’s how it is, isn't it?” Veers said defensively.

“I think…” Piett broke off, not letting himself voice his sentiments. Empathy for the enemy was treason. “I just don't like putting someone so young in such a position.”

Veers nodded. “If you ask me, he should be sent to Carida. Make a proper soldier of him, show him how the galaxy works. That would be right in the face of his pacifist father…”

The general continued to ramble on and Piett zoned out, sipping his drink. His attempts to forget about the young prince sitting alone in his quarters a couple decks above had well and truly failed.

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Chapter Text

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Luke slumped down on the couch in the living room, burying his face in his hands. He took a deep breath, staring dismally up ahead. Hostage. That’s what he was. A hostage to force his father to comply with the Emperor’s demands.

He looked over to the viewports lining the living area which showed the hypnotic blue swirl of hyperspace. Whenever he had occasion to travel in space, journeying to neighboring systems or when he’d been allowed to accompany his father to one of his many relief missions, he usually stared into it every spare minute. Never tiring of the ever-changing streaking pattern. Somehow it had always calmed him to stare into the bluish mist. He’d daydream of not being a prince with responsibilities and duties, and instead becoming a spacer, flying wherever he wished and seeing all the galaxy’s wonders.

Now it just made him feel more and more anxious. It meant every minute the blue swirl continued he was taken further away from his family, from home. He hadn’t been confined long before the vessel had jumped to hyperspace. He had stood by the viewports to catch a last glimpse of Alderaan, its familiar blue and green orb floating below him. Then the stars had turned to streaks and with a slight lurch the vessel had left real space. 

He stared across at the chrono on the wall. He’d been here for four hours. By now they must be hundreds of lightyears away, en route to an unknown destination. But it didn’t matter, did it? Even if they were still in orbit, he couldn’t even get out of these blasted rooms.

Glancing out the viewport he had a good view of the massive ship’s body. The quarters he was in, perched high above the Star Destroyer’s wedge shaped bulk, offered him a vantage point. Its sheer size let Luke recognize which ship he must be on: the brand new Super Star Destroyer that had left the Kuat Drive Yards only a few weeks ago. It was christened Executor on Empire Day and handed to Vader as his personal command ship in a pompous ceremony over Coruscant. Luke had been secretly fascinated by its large yet sleek design, larger than the normal Star Destroyers by a multiple. But his father had been furious at this waste of money on yet another instrument of terror.

Luke shook his head, trying to clear his mind. Knowing what ship he was being held on didn’t bring him any closer to escaping it. He had spent the better part of the last hours pacing and searching his prison, trying to find a way out. His quarters included a living room, a small dining room and a bedroom with adjacent fresher. They were utilitarian compared to the beautiful designs and architecture of Aldera’s palace, but furnished with everything he’d need. Better than a prison cell, he supposed. But it was nonetheless a prison.

Luke had tried every knob and control panel in the rooms. He had searched every nook and corner, every drawer and compartment. He had even climbed on two chairs precariously perched on each other to see if he could pry open the ceiling air ducts, but they were tightly sealed.

He had to admit defeat. Nothing had brought him any closer to escape. The door remained firmly locked, no matter how many times he punched the release and he couldn’t find another route outside. Neither had he found anything he could even remotely turn into a weapon. He had tried to raise the HoloNet and the intercom but predictably they didn’t work. The only holo access he was granted was the Imperial News Network, and he could do without the Emperor’s propaganda news that held less substance than a bowl of nutripaste.

During his search of the rooms he had found a wardrobe, which to his surprise was filled with clothes. Judging by a cursory glance they were approximately his size. It made his blood boil. This meant his capture had been long planned beforehand, before Vader had ever set foot into Aldera’s palace, dragging him here without giving him the courtesy to pack or even say goodbye to his parents. It also meant they weren’t inclined to let him go anytime soon. 

More anger rose in him. The clothes were well made and of high quality fabric, but instead of the flowing light colored robes he was used to wearing and were fitting for his title, the whole wardrobe only consisted of slim cut dark outfits with rigid lines, similar to Imperial uniforms. The symbolism was not lost on him. He was now in the domain of the Emperor and his no less evil henchman Vader.

It was also a deliberate insult to make him wear black. It was customary for the crown princes and princesses of Alderaan to wear white. He’d hated the rule when he was younger, often wanting to skip studying and instead climb the trees in the park around the palace. But he learned it was important to his family and Alderaan, so it became important to him too.

Luke sighed. It shouldn't matter. He was the Prince of Alderaan and no matter what they put on him, it wouldn’t change who and what he was.

Luke rubbed his face. What was he supposed to do? He did not want to sit idle while his father was pressured to stop working against the Emperor’s oppressive rule. A shudder went through the floor, pulling him from his thoughts. His eyes darted to the viewport where the blue swirl gave way to the pitch black of space with a scattering of stars. Luke jumped to his feet and went to the viewport for a closer look.

The stretch of space they had emerged into was far from empty. Though Luke couldn’t make out any planet nearby, he could see at least six more Star Destroyers hanging lazily in space with smaller ships circling them. A full battle squadron assembled. Seeing so many warships in one place and knowing this was a small fraction of the Empire's Navy, it made Luke wonder how peaceful politics could ever convince someone like the Emperor or Vader to moderate their dictatorship. They had such firepower at their disposal and were obviously ready and willing to unleash it to quash any resistance.

Luke squinted at the stars, trying to make out familiar constellations. Without any clues, he couldn’t determine where in the galaxy he was. It made him feel utterly lost.

A sharp click made Luke whirl around. The front door had been unlocked and it hissed open. Luke tensed. An Imperial officer stood in the doorway, regarding him with suspicion. Without addressing Luke he stepped aside to let a trooper carry a tray inside. The trooper disappeared into the dining room and it dawned on Luke what this was about. His expression tightened, staring at the officer who gave a cold smirk. Beyond the officer he could see more troopers lurking in the corridor. The trooper re-emerged and they left without uttering a word. The door shut and locked again.

Luke ground his teeth. He would not be the docile and obedient hostage acquiescing to whatever his captors demanded. He would not…

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Vader was fuming. He strode with purpose through the Executor’s hallways toward the quarters holding the young prince. He had left the prisoner in Captain Piett’s hands and had no intention of concerning himself with the brat any further. There were far more important things that required his attention. Until the captain reported that the prince had refused all food since he’d been brought aboard some forty-eight standard hours ago. He’d deal with the boy. He would not allow the prince to go on a hunger strike and become a martyr, rendering himself useless as a hostage.

Vader rounded another corner, flattening a few officers into the bulkhead who hastened to get out of his way, afraid to incite his anger. The guards posted outside the prince’s quarters snapped to attention when he came into view. With a tendril of the Force he opened the door and swept inside. The prince sat on one of the couches in the living room, staring at him with wide startled eyes.

The boy regained his composure quickly though, jaw set defiantly and his eyes narrowing on his unexpected visitor. Vader strode closer, prompting the boy to stand up and rise to his full height, but he was still more than a head shorter than Vader. “I think you do not yet understand the position you find yourself in, Your Highness,” he seethed without preamble.

"You have abducted me unlawfully and - ” 

Vader cut across the boy, pointing a finger at his face. “I am the law, and I deem your presence here most necessary. Your father has deliberately endangered the peace. You will help keep this peace.”

The boy however was not intimidated by his sharp tone, Vader had to give him that. He had courage, or simply no sense of self-preservation. His blue eyes flashed and his expression was livid. “I will not be a puppet for you to control my father,” he promised, voice thick with outrage.

Vader took another step, forcing the little prince to crane his neck to keep his towering mask in view. “You are much mistaken when you think your misdemeanor will have no consequences for you and your homeworld,” he said, his voice a dangerously low growl. “Maybe you would care for a demonstration. Should I select a target to show you the destructive capacities of this vessel? What awaits Alderaan should you and your father continue to defy the Emperor’s guidance?”

The boy swallowed his retort, blanching at the open threat. “You wouldn’t…”

“Would I not? I suggest you do not try my patience any further, Prince.”

The boy’s anger now mixed with concern, but he still didn’t back down. “My family and my people will not become the willing slaves to your oppressive rule,” he practically shouted. Vader’s furious reply stuck in his throat as he became aware of the Force flaring around the boy. It responded to his anger. The boy was instinctively drawing on it, using it to fortify himself against Vader.

A dark smile curled Vader’s lips, unseen under his helmet. “That was unwise, boy,” he hissed. His black gloved hand grabbed the prince’s white robes. He effortlessly lifted the boy a foot off the ground and held him at eye level. The weak little prince was Force sensitive. And trained enough to shield himself against Vader’s senses. “I had not thought your father would stoop quite so low as to harbor Jedi on his wretched excuse for a planet. Who has been training you?” he snarled, his voice a cold whip crack.

The boy’s expression flickered from righteous anger to true fear. He grasped at the hand holding him up but was unable to free himself. “Put. Me. Down,” he demanded, trying to cover up his dread. 

“The name, Prince,” Vader snarled. “Or I will force the answer out of you.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” the boy answered. Vader couldn’t sense a lie. More proof that the boy had been well trained. Well, he could subject the boy to interrogation to get his answer, but the Emperor would be displeased if the boy lost his value as a hostage. He had another way to find out what he wanted to know. He gathered the Dark Side around him and pounded on the boy’s mental shield.

The boy gasped in agony as Vader easily broke through the flimsy shields. The moment he did, Vader stopped his mental assault. The boy wasn’t trained. That much was certain. Whoever had erected the shields around his mind, it hadn’t been the boy’s doing. He was brimming with potential but that wasn’t what made Vader recoil from sifting through the boy’s mind. His presence in the Force burned brightly now, no longer shrouded by barriers. And he felt like her.

Padmé.

The name filtered through Vader’s brain. He stared at the young prince held tight in his grip, eyes wide in horror and feet dangling off the ground. He set the boy down but clasped the boy’s robes with a hand, not allowing him to move away. For the first time he bothered to take in the boy’s features, really looking at him. He was blonde, brightly blue eyed and of a slight frame. He looked nothing like Bail or Breha Organa.

The prince was regaining his composure. The boy’s shock at Vader’s attack, though Vader doubted he comprehended how he’d also broken into his mind, had passed. Now he was shaking with rage, his body tensed as if he was readying himself to fight.

“You were adopted,” Vader stated with certainty, causing the boy to flounder again. The Force rang with the truth of his statement, egging him on. The boy however had blanched further, the unexpected declaration hit his heart. He flashed his teeth like a cornered animal.

“You have no right to - ”

“Answer the question, Prince,” Vader snapped.

The boy hesitated, then nodded once, his lips pressed together.

“The names of your birth parents?” he demanded, further unsettling the boy, who tried to shut down. Vader tightened his grip on the boy’s robes and shook him, feeling the Force quiver around him. This was important. He needed to know. “Answer me, boy. Or there will be consequences.”

The prince stalled, but then opened his mouth. “Anakin and Padmé,” he spat, glaring. 

Vader let him go and the boy took his chance to step back. Vader’s hand hung in the air, shaking. Stunned, he concentrated on the breathing cycles of his respirator, felt the oxygen forcibly expand his burned lungs, struggling to find some measure of calm. It was no coincidence. It couldn't be, the way the Force around him was shifting. He reached out with its tendrils, carefully this time, again touching the boy’s mind. There was no resistance, the walls that had been built around the boy’s mind were in tatters. The Force rang with the truth of his discovery as soon as he touched his mind. Vader didn’t need a DNA test to prove it. The unborn child he thought had died with its mother had lived. He had survived. Sixteen years ago Kenobi must’ve stolen the child, leaving its mother to die. Just like he had left Vader to die in the ashes on Mustafar.

Kenobi stole the baby, spiriting him away from his father, and hid him with… with Organa. The gall of that man. The sheer gall. This eclipsed the degree of treachery he had thought that cursed man capable of. Hiding his offspring from him, parading the boy right under his nose, claiming him as his own and turning him against his father. He straightened up, stunned surprise transforming into black rage. The Dark Side was shifting and curling around him like a living being, almost purring in satisfaction. The warmth drained from the room and the boy backed up, subconsciously picking up on his dangerous mood.

He would have revenge.  He would have Organa obliterated from the face of the galaxy for this duplicity…. “I will make him pay for this treachery,” Vader growled out loud. He whipped out his comlink, opening a channel to the bridge. “Captain, set course for Alderaan, now!” he snarled, deactivating the comlink before Piett could even confirm.

“No,” the boy gasped, his eyes wide. “No, please…” The color had left the boy’s cheeks and pure horror was edged on his face. He must’ve sensed the murderous intent. “Please, don't…” he closed the distance between them. Vader turned to the door, intent on putting space between him and the boy. He would not endanger the child. His child. He strode away, and tried to rein in his raging hatred so as not to lash out at the boy by accident. The prince, however, assumed he was going now to unleash his wrath on Alderaan and its royal family.

“No, please don’t. Please leave my father alone,” the boy pleaded, swiftly coming closer. Without hesitation he fell to his knees in front of Vader. “I’ll do everything you ask, I promise. Please spare them.”

Vader froze, looking down at the kneeling boy. His blue eyes stared up at him imploringly, with such fierce passion trying to save the man he regarded to be his father. That undeserving Organa who had been complicit in his child’s abduction and spent sixteen years filling the boy, his son, with lies and half truths about him, about the whole galaxy. Who had turned the boy thoroughly against him. Who hadn’t bothered telling him the truth when Vader came to collect the young prince. Not even then, to prevent the boy from being damaged at the hands of his real father. At the memory of his harsh treatment of the boy hot guilt shot through him. He clenched his fists, the leather of his gloves creaking under the strain.

The prince stiffened, expecting a blow. But he didn’t retreat, willing to take the brunt of Vader’s displeasure. Vader needed to rein himself in, needed to calm down. It would do him no good to act rashly now. He needed time to think and process the truth. And he needed to undo the damage he had already caused. He pulled out his comlink again. “Captain, belay that order. Resume position and then take the fleet to the Haarap system.”

The boy, still kneeling at his feet, relaxed marginally. Uncertainty showed on his face. Vader breathed in, drawing on the Force to calm him down, allowing the hatred to leave his mind. He focused on the boy, whose Force presence was radiant now that the shroud he had been hidden behind was torn down.

“Get up, Highness.” he said in a voice that he hoped was as friendly as possible. The boy hesitated, then clambered to his feet. He didn’t try to move back from Vader, resigned to his fate and ready to bear the Dark Lord’s anger in place of the man he considered to be his father.

+++

Luke stared up at his captor. Unthinkingly, he had flung himself to his knees, promising unconditional submission. He knew Vader was about to destroy his parents, maybe all of Alderaan to get to them. This was not just to intimidate him, no mere deception to frighten. He could feel it, the choking cold around them. What exactly had caused it, he did not know. All he knew was that he had to stop this. Stop Vader from unleashing his wrath, no matter what he had to do to accomplish it.

The Dark Lord had stilled and stared when Luke was kneeling at his feet, probably regrading him with disgust. For a few long moments the man merely looked at him. Then he commed the bridge again, ordering them off. Relief flooded through Luke. No matter how he had to sell himself out, he would do it. He had underestimated the cruelty his captor was capable of, but it didn't matter. He would bear whatever Vader did to him. He was a prince, it was his duty.

Vader ordered him to stand and Luke hesitatingly obeyed. He licked his lips nervously at Vader’s prolonged staring.

“Organa does not deserve your loyalty, little prince,” Vader finally broke the uncomfortable quiet, his voice curiously soft.

Luke forced himself to remain silent and not make a retort. Vader reached for him and Luke involuntarily stiffened. But all the Dark Lord did was place his hands firmly on Luke’s small shoulders. He turned him around and pushed him away from the front door, strangely gentle. But maybe this was because Luke didn’t fight him. He let himself be steered toward the dining room, Vader’s hands resting heavy upon his shoulders.

“Sit down, Highness,” Vader said, releasing him. “Sit down and eat. I know you are hungry.”

Luke swallowed. Stars, he was, and his defiance had only endangered his family. He slowly stepped around the table and sank into a chair. In front of him was the food tray delivered a couple hours ago, untouched.

Vader closed the door to the room and stood at the chair opposite Luke, grasping its back. It was a strange sight to see the man’s bulk in such a casual setting. But it painfully drove home how much Vader controlled him. “Eat, Highness. You will need to keep your strength up.”

Luke gritted his teeth at the implied threat. But he picked up a spoon. There was no knife or fork, no weapon to defend himself or commit suicide with. He stared at the food, then took a tentative spoonful. It didn’t taste bad and he ate a few more bites, trying to ignore Vader’s overbearing presence and the noise of his respirator disturbing the otherwise silent room. He knew that the Dark Lord was watching him closely and he needed to avoid giving him another reason to be displeased. He had promised compliance and in return Vader had called off the attack on his homeworld and his family. So now he needed to live up to his promise. 

“Tell me about yourself, Highness,” Vader finally spoke, his voice calm and nearly gentle, more so than Luke had ever heard him. What should he tell him?

“What do you wish to know, my lord?” he asked carefully, staring at the plate in front of him to avoid looking at Vader. The chilling sound of Vader’s breathing made Luke’s hair stand on end.

“You have grown up on Alderaan all your life?”

“Yes,” Luke said. “Though my father has taken me to different planets in the sector.”

“Have you ever been to Coruscant?”

“No, my lord,” he answered, emphasizing the formal address to please his captor. His mind was spinning though. Vader had turned from his violent outburst, on the point of attacking Alderaan as punishment for his defiance, to calmly standing here and small talking with him. Or maybe, rather, interrogating him.

“What pastimes do you occupy yourself with?” Vader asked.

“I…” Luke wavered again. What did Vader mean? Why would he want to know? But his unwillingness to open himself up to his captor was eclipsed by the desire to keep the man from targeting his parents and people. For a moment he dared to look up at the Dark Lord looming over him. “I like piloting. And spaceships, everything to do with them.”

“I see. Do you have any mechanical skills? Can you pilot?” Vader’s interest seemed genuine.

“I have picked up some things, but…” Luke broke off, staring down again uneasily.

“But?”

Luke winced inwardly, he shouldn't have said that. “My father does not think these skills to be important. He feels I should learn other things.”

“He is mistaken. You should learn both skills, as they will serve you well in your life.”

Luke nodded mechanically, privately thinking that he had no life left to learn how to fly, now that his future had shrunken to these small quarters under Vader’s watchful gaze.

“What else fills your time, Prince?”

“Um... I am being tutored. In languages, history, pol…all sorts of things,” Luke bit his tongue in time. Best not to raise the subject of politics. He doubted that Vader would approve of the topics his tutors had covered. Luckily, Vader didn’t press him.

“I would assume the Viceroy would like to see you follow in his footsteps?”

Luke nodded, he knew it. His father had told him often enough that he wished Luke to become a Senator himself, representing the Alderaan system in the Imperial senate.

“And how do you feel about this?” Vader asked.

The Dark Lord ventured into dangerous waters, but Luke knew better than to lie. “I would consider it my duty,” he said carefully, the same answer he had given many times before.

“It is true, you were born to be a leader, Highness. But you will not become the Senator of Alderaan, or its King,” Vader stated with finality.

Luke swallowed at the veiled threat. It was probably the truth, though. He wouldn’t escape his captor, and with his father in disgrace neither of them would have much chance to make any difference for the galaxy. He was sure his father wouldn’t willingly endanger him, which meant he had to comply with the Emperor for as long as Luke was at the Dark Lord’s mercy. Vader scrutinized him, gesturing him to continue eating. He didn’t protest.

“What do you know of your birth parents?” Vader asked after a time.

Luke stiffened. How had Vader found out he was adopted? For whatever reason, the mention of their names had caused Vader’s rage. And beforehand, he had accused him and his family of being affiliated with the Jedi - which should earn him an immediate death sentence. But Vader hadn’t mentioned it again. Luke shifted on his chair nervously, worried his reply would provoke the Dark Lord.

“I only know their first names, which I have told you, my lord,” he answered. “They’re both dead.” Luke tried to sound dispassionate about it, hoping this would be enough to conclude this part of his interrogation.

“Is that what you have been told?”

Luke merely nodded, wishing Vader would finally drop it. Vader regarded him silently. Luke cautiously cast his eyes up. It was unnerving to have the mask so unwaveringly fixed on him without being able to meet the eyes hidden behind its opaque lenses. 

“That is a lie,” Vader’s deep voice finally cut through. “Your father is not dead, Highness.”

At this curveball, ice pooled in Luke’s stomach. It’s not true. It’s a mind game. Don’t let him exploit your weak spots, Luke repeated in his head like a mantra. It had to be some cruel plan of Vader’s. To raise hope in his prisoner, to toy with him, only to break him by snatching that hope away. 

Silence stretched, only interrupted by mechanic breathing as Vader seemed to search for words. His hands were squeezing the back of the chair with enough force that Luke was sure it couldn’t be long before it cracked. Luke’s heart twisted, and even before the Dark Lord addressed him again, he knew that something big was about to happen. Something that would change the galaxy as he knew it. It felt as if the air in this very room was shifting with anticipation.

“I am your father.”

+++

Chapter Text

+++ 

Prince Luke, a befitting title for the boy. Though he was not the Prince of Alderaan, that blasted planet Vader still had the urge to wipe from the face of the galaxy along with the cursed viceroy and the queen. No. Luke should be an Imperial prince. The Imperial Prince, heir to his father. 

The only problem was, the boy didn’t believe a word of what he had just told him. The boy had yet to say a single word after Vader revealed the truth of his parentage. He was merely staring mutely at Vader, his posture rigid, conveying his apprehension. Vader reached out with the Force, gently probing the boy’s feelings, sensing blatant distrust and a rising desperation. Yet he voiced none of this. Clearly he feared Vader lashing out at him, or rather his family, should he dare to call him out on what he thought was a bold lie intended to hurt him. 

Sensing the boy’s turmoil, Vader sighed behind his mask, knowing the vocoder wouldn’t pick it up. The boy’s distrust was understandable. He had given the boy no reason to trust him and while Vader was glad the Jedi had not gotten the young prince into their hands first, it also meant the boy hadn’t been trained in the ways of the Force. There was undeniably a bond between them now, but untrained as he was Luke couldn’t detect it. 

This only left more traditional means to prove his claim. But that required a change of location. 

“Come with me, Highness,” he said eventually, in a hopefully unthreatening way. The boy flinched nevertheless, but stood without further prompting. Vader placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder, guiding him to the front door of the quarters assigned to the prince. The boy hesitated, but he was still cowed by Vader’s earlier outburst of fury and didn’t resist when Vader steered him out of the quarters.

His appearance in the corridor made the posted guards tense, ready to restrain the hostage should he try to bolt. Vader kept his hand firmly on the prince’s shoulder. The boy was compliant enough on the short trip, and Vader ushered him through the large set of double doors into his own quarters aboard the Executor. Once they were inside and the doors closed, he let go of the boy.

“I trust you have had some time to… come to terms with what I have told you?” Vader said carefully, while the boy was taking in his surroundings with great suspicion. The prince glanced at him and he could feel the boy gathering himself. 

“I have a hard time believing your statement to be true, Lord Vader,” he replied stiffly, finding his voice again. The boy had regained some of his equilibrium on the way here and a hint of his earlier insolence shone through.

“I understand your skepticism, Highness. Hence I propose a genetic analysis as a matter of proof.” 

The boy huffed. “It would be easy to fake such test results.” 

Vader nodded, his son was shrewd, but he would not let him escape the truth. “I agree; therefore I advise you to carefully examine the test parameters.” The boy watched him warily, unsure of what Vader hoped to achieve. “I will arrange for what is necessary to make you accept the truth,” he added.

“I don’t see how your claim could be true,” the boy said with a shade more of his earlier defiance. “And even if it were, it wouldn’t change anything. I am the Prince of Alderaan. It’s why you have seen fit to imprison me here.”

Vader clenched a fist behind his back, fighting to rein in his temper. “It changes everything, Luke,” he stated, omitting the boy’s title. “You do not understand your importance. You have been raised by a mere kidnapper, who filled your head with lies and half-truths. I will see this rectified and you will claim your proper title and position.” 

The boy’s jaw worked furiously as he bit back a number of retorts, trying to control his own temper. “I will have no part in the Empire, regardless of any test results you present to me. You are trying to turn me against my family and manipulate me to your side, but I won’t fall for it.” 

“I do not wish such a thing. You are my son, and I will not stand idly by while you are raised to despise and oppose me.”

“I am not your son,” the boy said firmly, though Vader could hear the pleading behind it, for him to take it all back. “I am Luke Organa of Alderaan.” 

Vader was spared having to answer by the arrival of the medical droid he had summoned with the necessary equipment to perform a blood test. The prince was clearly reluctant to do it, yet Vader could feel his need to reaffirm what he believed was the truth. He wanted confirmation that it was all a lie and merely an attempt to shake him up. And yet, Vader sensed a repressed urge and hope to believe his father was alive; one the boy tried to smother again and again, but it surfaced every time. The droid placed the equipment on the table and Vader gestured, inviting the prince to examine it.

+++ 

Luke threw Vader a cautious look, but the Dark Lord made no attempt to approach or reach for him. Luke stepped closer to the table where the droid had placed syringes, vials and a datareader. He tried to crush a bubbling disquiet. 

The equipment looked brand new, all of it still wrapped in its original packaging. So did this mean all of this had been planned and prepared long ago, or was there really no trick to it? Luke just couldn't understand what Vader wanted from him, claiming him as his son. What could he possibly hope to win from him, that he hadn't already by keeping him here prisoner?

“I trust you are satisfied the equipment has not been tampered with?” Vader’s deep voice cut through Luke’s thoughts. He raised his eyes to regard his captor and gave a small nod.

“Very well,” Vader said, stepping closer to the table. Luke moved and put the piece of furniture between him and the Dark Lord. Vader did not comment on it, but waved to the medical droid and it unwrapped a syringe. Vader reached with his right hand to his left shoulder, fumbling with his armor until he removed the piece covering his upper arm. He pushed up the black sleeve underneath, revealing pale and heavily scarred skin.

Luke felt like he should look away, unsure if he was allowed to be privy to this. But he couldn't deny his morbid fascination as he watched the droid draw a small amount of blood from Vader’s arm. So Vader was indeed human. How often had Luke heard hushed theories that Vader was a droid, spawned from one of Palpatine’s factories? Like this he seemed almost frail, but it didn’t last long. Once the droid was done, Vader rolled down his sleeve and replaced his armor, again his usual invulnerable self.

He raised his head to lock his gaze on Luke again and Luke cringed. It was his turn now. The medical droid rolled up to him with a second syringe. He bit the inside of his cheek. What would his father say if he ever found out that Luke had tolerated this violation? But he needed to know, he couldn’t back out now.

Stomping down on his guilt and trying his best to ignore Vader, who was watching his every move, Luke pushed up his wide cut sleeve. He hesitated, then held out his arm to the droid. He didn’t feel pain as the droid carefully pushed the syringe into his vein. Luke focused on the crimson liquid filling the second vial, instead of Vader’s intense scrutiny and his loud breathing.

The droid released him, a small patch now covering the puncture. The two vials sat innocently on the table, indistinguishable from each other. It wasn't unusual, he told himself. All human blood looked the same. But he couldn’t deny the rising anxiety in him.

The droid plugged both samples into the datareader after Luke had examined it and had been permitted to wipe its memory chip. The silence was taut as Luke waited for the results. The medical droid handed him the datareader and he stared at it. He had declared that the results wouldn’t change anything. But the second he saw them, he knew it did. 

He had known for a while that he wasn’t Bail and Breha’s biological son, they had told him a few years ago. It had come as a shock, but both had reassured him. They said the moment they had carried him over the step of their home as an infant it hadn't mattered to them, and it shouldn't matter to him either. 

They also told him his parents’ first names, and said they had died at the end of the Clone Wars in the turmoil of conflict and the rise of the Empire. Luke had grieved for them, even though he had never known them. He had struggled with his identity for a while. But with the reassurances of his parents that this made him no less their son, he had found his ground again, considering Breha and Bail his parents in all ways that mattered. 

Now to be confronted by this horrible truth, this black clad terror of the Empire. One who had kidnapped him from his home, locked him up and pushed him around, only to claim to be his father. His real father. Who didn’t allow him to cling to a lie, who forced him to accept the truth for what it was. 

The datareader spelled it out in simple letters and numbers. The samples confirmed a paternal relationship with nearly a hundred percent probability. He longed to deny it, to hurl the accusation in Vader’s face, saying this was fabricated, an elaborate ploy. But he knew it wasn’t. He sank in a chair at the table where the vials of blood sat.

Luke shut his eyes against the truth that threatened to overwhelm him, as if not looking at the short text would somehow make it less true, or make him unlearn it. He started as a large hand grabbed his shoulder and squeezed. Luke lowered his head, desperation washing over him. He felt exhausted and somehow even more at the mercy of the man who held him prisoner. “What are you going to do with me?” he asked quietly. 

Vader’s other hand cupped his chin, tilting his head up to make him look at Vader, who now stood awfully close. Luke stared at the dreaded mask and saw his own face reflected twice in the opaque lenses. “You are my son, Luke. But your situation is difficult. You are strong in the Force.” 

“I haven’t been trained,” Luke shot out quickly in defense, afraid despite himself at the accusation he might be a Jedi. Something that should earn him a summary execution. Vader squeezed his shoulder again. 

“No, you have not.” Vader abruptly released him and began pacing, hands clasped behind his back and black cape billowing in his wake. “You have not, but you should have been. You have no idea how much potential you have.” 

Luke stared at the pacing Dark Lord until he let his head drop again, unable to look at the man anymore. He looked down at himself instead, still clad in the same robes he had worn when he’d been dragged out of Aldera’s palace. Still foolishly clinging to his identity as the Prince of Alderaan when he was in fact an imposter. A wolf hidden among sheep. Another thought clawed into his mind. This meant that he had well and truly outlived his usefulness to the Emperor. His adoptive father must have known. And Bail probably wouldn’t be impressed by threats on Luke’s life, since he was the son of Vader and safe from Imperial malice. 

“Will you let me go? I have no more value as your hostage if my…” he swallowed, not daring to say the word out loud. “If Bail knows all this.” 

Vader stopped pacing to face him. “You have infinite value, little prince,” he declared fiercely. “And you are in great danger from the Jedi who would wish to kill you. Or from the Emperor who would claim you as his apprentice once he knows your true identity.” 

Luke tried but couldn’t quite suppress a shudder at that, fresh fear creeping in. 

“I will not allow that to happen, Luke. I will protect you. I will train you in the ways of the Force and together we will be able to kill the Emperor and bring a better future to the galaxy.” 

Luke stared wide eyed at Vader who, just like that, declared treason against the Emperor. Vader of all people, the loyal henchman of Palpatine. It must be a trick, something to help pin him and his family as traitors. He shook his head. “I don’t want to be a part of this.”

“Do you not wish to end the Emperor’s rule?”

Luke looked away from Vader, feeling his piercing eyes on him.

He did, of course he did. How often had he wished he could do something about all the atrocities he had learned of? How often had his father’s insistence on a peaceful diplomatic solution left him frustrated and wondering how it could ever be successful? Vader’s offer was tempting, but he couldn’t go along with such a thing just because he felt like it. Adopted or not, he had a duty to the people of Alderaan. 

“I…I can’t. Fighting is not Alderaan’s way,” he said, echoing what he had heard his father say on many occasions, trying his best to make it sound as convincing as Bail always managed to sound. 

Vader stared at him, and Luke resisted the urge to shrink back. His breathing seemed louder than ever in the strained atmosphere. “Come with me,” Vader finally said.

Luke didn’t move, but a mute optimism rose in him. Maybe he had done it. Maybe he had convinced Vader he wouldn’t join him. But that left a new set of questions. Vader hadn’t answered what he’d do with his newfound offspring, though Luke wouldn’t put it past him to chuck him back into his prison and let him rot. Especially after his refusal to back him in his coup - if Vader had even meant it.

Still greatly apprehensive at his proximity, Luke got up from the chair. Vader grabbed his shoulder to guide him, his hold surprisingly light. To Luke’s dismay, Vader didn’t lead him to the door they had come through, but in the opposite direction. Where were they anyway?

“These are my quarters,” Vader stated offhandedly. Luke cringed, wondering if Vader could read his thoughts, or if he was only shockingly good at guessing what was on Luke's mind. They stepped through one door and then a second. Luke found himself in a room furnished with only a massive desk and behind it a chair with a towering back. One side of the room had floor-to-ceiling viewports, offering a stunning view of the ship’s length. It looked like an office and Luke wondered why Vader had led him here of all places. 

“Sit down, Highness,” Vader said, pushing him to the ridiculously large desk. Luke stepped around it and sat down stiffly.

+++

The boy looked small and rather lost in the oversized chair; the pompous furniture of the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Forces was designed to intimidate. Vader had never had much use for it, he preferred to stand. The armor he was confined in didn’t invite sitting unless he was meditating and the Force could alleviate the pain. Besides, he didn’t need the symbolism of such a room to instill fear and obedience in subordinates. 

He probed Luke’s thoughts and feelings. Luke had finally accepted the truth. But it didn’t mean he accepted his heritage or that he trusted him. Half of his mind was still convinced that while Vader hadn’t been lying about his parentage, he sought to use his declared treason as a trap. The boy was caught in a web of conflicting emotions and loyalties. It wouldn’t be easy to sway the boy to his side. But he was sure he had one piece of information that would both win the boy’s trust and give him a reason to fight. 

He moved closer, causing the boy to look up from the desk and the scattered datapads he’d been trying to decipher. The boy looked remarkably composed despite the stress he was under and Vader felt a touch of pride at his son’s strength. He produced another datapad, showing it to the prince who regarded it with suspicion. Vader keyed in a complex passcode and plugged in his cylinder code to unlock content for the boy.

“What is this?” the prince asked when Vader offered no explanation. 

“A secret weapons project currently under construction,” Vader answered, holding out the unlocked datapad to him. Luke accepted it with reluctance.

“Should you be showing this to me?” the boy queried with raised eyebrows.

“Most assuredly not, Highness,” Vader answered. “Only a handful of high ranking individuals in the Empire are privy to this information.” A hint of the smile playing around his lips showed in his voice, enough for the boy to look up in surprise. But he finally raised the datapad to his eyes to read. Vader stepped back and turned to the viewport, gazing out into the stars as he often did.

He was taking a risk, telling the boy the truth and showing him the plans. But the Force was guiding him. It sang to him like it hadn't for years, whispering of power, of dominance, and the future he had always dreamed of. The future Palpatine had promised him and never delivered, instead turning him into his servant, a slave only fulfilling his master’s wishes. 

Until now he had seen no chance to overthrow Palpatine. True, he had long begun to vet loyal officers and place them in strategic positions throughout the navy and the galaxy’s administration. But the key issue remained his own inability to best his master in combat. Thanks to Obi-Wan leaving him to burn in a lava pit, he no longer possessed the strength required. 

But with the unexpected appearance of this slight little prince, who he had literally dragged into his life, everything could change, would change. If only he could convince the boy to stand with him, to trust him. If he gained his loyalty…

“Do you expect me to believe this?” the prince intoned, his voice full of disbelief. 

Vader turned from the viewport, hands clasped behind his back. The prince had his chin raised, trying to project haughty arrogance. But Vader wasn’t fooled. What he had just read seemed unbelievable, easy to dismiss as a hoax, yet the boy radiated uncertainty through the Force.

“I am sure you have questions, Your Highness,” he replied evenly, ignoring the provocation.

Luke looked again at the datapad and examined the cylinder code necessary to access it. He took a deep breath. “I wouldn’t put it past this government to try and build a weapon capable of destroying an entire planet. But I don’t see how it’s possible to achieve. The weapon would need to be ginormous. Impossible to construct - let alone in secret.”

“The plans for this battle station were drafted before the Clone Wars even ended. Construction began before the Empire was founded over Geonosis and has since been moved under high security to the Despayre system, where it is being completed.”

Luke stared at him, processing this information with a deep frown. “But why? The same effect can be achieved with Star Destroyers, as the Empire has proven time and again,” he said, eyes narrowing at Vader in barely concealed censure.

“It is true. A lone Star Destroyer is capable of making a planet uninhabitable,” Vader responded. “You have mentioned you have been tutored in politics. I am sure your kidnapper has seen fit to introduce you to the Tarkin Doctrine?”

The boy flustered, temper rising while he tried to cover his fear of Vader targeting his parents. “He is not…”

“Are you familiar with it?” Vader cut across him. Luke collected himself, and gave a guarded nod. “Good. Though I cannot say I approve him giving you classified reports to read. Tarkin proposes a strategy to rule through fear. This battle station is the key element. When it is operational, it will be used to instill fear in the populace and quell any armed resistance. The governor will be given command, assuming he does not fall from grace before then,” Vader let Luke hear his disdain for the man. “You will find a list of planets on that datapad. They are the shortlist of planets selected to be made an example of. One of them, at the very least, will be destroyed upon the battle station’s completion to demonstrate its capabilities.”

Luke picked up the datapad again and looked for the shortlist. Once he found it, his eyes widened and the color in his cheeks drained. Vader knew why. Alderaan sat at the very top of the list since it had first been drafted. And unless the viceroy was muzzled by holding the prince hostage, it would remain that way.

“I… I,” the boy stuttered. “I can’t believe this is true.”

“Yet it is, Highness. If you wish, I will arrange for the Executor to make a detour to the battle station’s construction site so you can see for yourself.”

The prince stared at him with huge eyes, grasping the datapad so hard his knuckles turned white.

“The battle station will be completed and operational in a year’s time, provided there are no major setbacks. The Emperor is very keen to see his project finished,” Vader continued.

“And you are not?”

“I do not approve of it. I would have it dismantled before it can do such damage.”

The boy’s face tightened. “Yet you do nothing against it,” he accused.

Vader moved and faced the boy across the desk. “The Emperor is strong in the Force, young one. Stronger than me. Stronger than you. I cannot dispose of him alone.”

Luke was quiet. Vader probed his feelings. Despite his calm exterior the boy was shaken. It was a lot to absorb. But he could also feel stubborn determination from the boy. It seemed they shared that particular trait as well. 

The boy looked down. “What would you have me do?”

“You are strong with the Force. I will train you in the ways of the Force and teach you how to wield a lightsaber. Once you are powerful enough, we will strike against the Emperor and dispose of him.”

Luke gritted his teeth. “I can’t fight, I am Alderaanian. Fighting is not…”

“You are not Alderaanian.”

“My parentage doesn’t determine who I am!” the boy retorted heatedly, disproving his own statement in an instant.

The boy seemed to have inherited his temper, yet his upbringing by that infuriating Organa was keeping him from unleashing his potential. It was frustrating, but he still had something to tip the boy over the edge. Vader leaned over him more, hands on his belt. “You promised me obedience, little prince.”

Luke faltered at Vader’s words. A casual reminder that the boy had, in a desperate attempt to protect his parents from Vader’s wrath, pledged his unconditional compliance to whatever Vader demanded of him. The boy licked his lips. Vader had truly backed him into a corner now and swept away all the boy’s arguments. He’d provided a valiant reason to fight, the promise of an end to all the atrocities the boy so despised and a possibility to protect the ones he loved. Vader took a step back, he did not wish to intimidate the boy any further. In any case, time was required to truly win the prince’s trust and while he wouldn’t follow up with his threat, it sufficiently impressed the boy.

For a few moments, Luke weighed his options and Vader’s words. Then he straightened a little, raising his chin. His blue eyes fixed on Vader’s optical lenses, able to meet his eyes with unsettling accuracy. “I will do as you ask,” he said, his voice firm and not betraying his upset. “If in return you promise not to harm my parents or attack Alderaan, not now and not ever. And you will do your best to protect them from the Emperor.”

Unseen, Vader smiled behind his mask. His son was shrewd and strong. He still longed to punish the Organas for their treachery, but he needed to win the prince’s loyalty above everything else.

He nodded in agreement. “As you wish, Highness.”

Luke nodded as well, shoulders sagging in relief. Vader stretched out a hand over the desk to the prince and Luke, after hesitating for only a fraction of a moment, shook it with his much smaller one, sealing their pact.

Vader allowed himself a feeling of satisfaction. This was a foundation he could build upon. But many issues remained and he was not sure how the boy would react to them. “To ensure your safety, we must continue this ruse. You must remain a hostage. Palpatine has been most explicit in his order to keep you prisoner. Should your true identity become public knowledge, the Emperor would seize you as his apprentice. If you refuse, he will torture and torment you until you break to his wish. The Organas would be exposed as kidnappers and face proper punishment for their crimes.”

Vader let his cautions sink in. It was vital the boy understood. Luke regarded him cautiously, but again Vader felt that streak of determination. Luke nodded again.

“I will train you and when you are strong enough we will strike against the Emperor. You will be free, and you will be able to shape the future of the galaxy.” 

The boy didn’t resist when Vader went around the desk and pulled him to his feet, clasping his shoulders. “You are strong, my son,” he said, letting fatherly pride seep into his voice. “Remember my words, play your role convincingly. I will come for you as often as I safely can.” 

Luke nodded, resolve shining on his face. Vader gave his shoulders a last squeeze. He whipped out his comlink and pressed a button, before guiding him back to the front door. He gave the prince a rougher push, causing him to stumble in time for an officer who’d entered. 

“Have the prince escorted back to his quarters,” Vader ordered, cold and dismissive. He turned his masked gaze once more to Luke, pointing at his face. “Heed my words, Highness. Or you will suffer worse consequences. I shall not be lenient again.” 

Luke eased back into the role at Vader’s scornful tones. He glowered. “I will not be your obedient pawn,” he hissed, but he sounded tired.

“We shall see, Prince,” Vader replied. “I trust you need some time to think about what I have told you. For your sake, I hope your answer will change when I send for you again.” He turned back to the officer. “Take him away.” 

He stared after the boy when he was escorted from his quarters. He caught himself investigating the boy’s presence until he was sure the boy was alone in the quarters assigned to him.

+++

Chapter Text

+++

Luke stood between the tall columns lining the great hall of the Aldera palace, illuminated by the soft light of the evening sun. Breha and Bail each had a hand on Luke’s shoulders, holding him firmly, soothingly, but Luke barely felt it. He felt like the very floor had been pulled from under him. He hoped that what his parents just told him was not true, that he somehow had misheard, but their solemn and serious expressions left no doubt.

How could he be adopted? And what did that mean for him, for his life, for his position?

“B… but then... I’m not your son, not a prince,” Luke stammered, finding his voice with difficulty.

“You are our son, Luke. In every way that matters, you are,” Bail replied. “You were but days old when we carried you over the steps of this very palace. It is your home as much as it is ours and I promise you that this will never change.”

Breha stroked his arm. “Being a prince has little to do with blood. You are meant to be here, Luke. Your actions and decisions define who you are far more than your heritage and who your parents were. Never forget that.”

Bail stepped closer and pulled Luke into an embrace. Luke sobbed and leaned his face against his father’s chest. Bail hugged him, firm hands holding his shoulders. “Do not worry, little prince. You are my son and always will be. You must remember that.”

Luke nodded, letting his father pull him in closer, the fabric of his father’s smooth tunic familiar and calming. Luke closed his eyes, the anxiety and sadness he had felt after this horrible revelation slowly melting from him. One hand left his shoulder to rake through his hair soothingly and Luke felt much better. He was home.

A sharp hissing sounded through his head. Luke blinked in confusion. Something wasn't right. A curious bright red light shined directly in his eyes. Luke stared dumbly, trying to make sense of it. He looked up and reared back when he realized that instead of Bail’s chest he had pressed his head against the unyielding armor of Darth Vader.

“Ah, no…” Luke gasped. He doubled his efforts to get away but Vader’s strong arms were wrapped around him like bands of steel, trapping him against the hulk of a man. The impassive mask was unwaveringly fixed on him as Luke struggled desperately to break free.

“You are mine,” Vader intoned in his deep voice, making Luke’s hair stand on end.

“No, no, get off me. Father, Father, please. Help me…” Luke twisted his head back to find Bail standing a few feet away, his hand stretched out to him and his face frighteningly blank. But otherwise he made no move to help him. “Father, please…” Luke renewed his struggles, frantically trying to reach for him.

“He is not your father,” Vader said mercilessly, keeping Luke tightly pressed to his own broad chest. And Bail, smiling sadly, just faded away. “Iamyour father."

“No, no. You’re lying. Get. Off. Me,” Luke fought in vain. “Father, come back.”

“Embrace your destiny, my son,” Vader said, his deep mechanical voice vibrating through Luke’s body like it was permeating his very self. “You are mine.”

“No!” Luke shouted. He gathered all his strength. He lunged and finally was able to break Vader’s hold. Luke dashed to where Bail had been standing, to find him, to get him back.

But the room around him shifted and turned into a cavernous, shadowy place. It was lined with control stations and he stood in front of massive viewports.Luke was suddenly aware of a dark presence at his back. Before he could do anything, cold shriveled hands grasped him and locked him in place. Wild eyed, he yelled and tried to run from this new horror. A mad cackle went into his ear. It was the Emperor.

“No, please…” Luke gasped as the familiar blue and green orb of Alderaan swam into focus beyond the viewports and he knew something dreadful would happen. He tried to loosen the grip but with one bony arm the Emperor had him pinned against him.

“Watch, my young apprentice,” the hoarse voice of the Emperor commanded. The long gnarled white fingers of his other hand grasped Luke’s chin, fingernails digging in painfully. “Watch and learn. All of this is for you. You must sacrifice those that hold you down. They would keep you from reaching your potential.”

Luke thrashed to free himself, to prevent what was about to happen, but he could barely move.

“You may fire when ready, Commander,” the Emperor ordered, his breath hot in Luke’s ear.

“No, no, no…” Luke wanted to twist his head away and not witness the inevitable, but the Emperor's grasp was unyielding.

“Watch, child. Today you shall be reborn from the ashes of your homeworld. I will free you. You will become powerful, my young apprentice.”

Luke shook his head. He didn't want this, any of this. Outside, a neon green laser broke the blackness of space and then another and another, until the lasers converged into a single deadly beam of light. It shot away, unstoppable and angled directly at Alderaan. Luke felt an overwhelming terror that wasn't his own and a split second later the green beam hit the planet, tearing through it.

“No,” Luke sobbed, as the space in front of them went supernova and Alderaan burst into billions of fragments.

Luke reeled back and the Emperor let go of his chin. He looked to the side, flinching once more as his eyes fixed onto the bulk of the man lying on the polished tiles. The right hand was cut off, and the black cape pooling over the legs didn’t conceal how they were twisted unnaturally. “No,” Luke gasped again softly.

“Ah yes, my young apprentice. With your father gone and now the Organas, you are finally free,” the Emperor whispered into his ear, his lips nearly touching Luke’s skin. “You are mine, child. Kneel. Pledge yourself to me and you shall take your rightful place at my side.”

Luke blinked away the tears, a sob shaking his whole body and a cold emptiness filling him. Everything, everyone, was gone and all of it was his fault. Anger and guilt seeped into his blood. “Good, good, embrace your hatred, child,” the Emperor intoned.

No. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. Luke gathered his strength once more. With great effort he ripped himself from the cloying grasp and turned, stumbling backwards, evading the greedy hands trying to recapture him. He dodged them but tripped over the body of Vader. He didn't land hard on the tiles – the ground was no more and he fell and fell into nothingness. He screamed.

Luke woke up, his scream still in his ears. He blinked, disorientated, and grappled against whatever was holding him. His sluggish brain caught up. Gulping down air, he realized he was lying on the floor next to the bed and was wrapped up in his blanket as tightly as a flare-wing in its cocoon.

A dream, it had all been a dream.Luke slumped, cherishing the sobering coldness of the floor against the back of his head. Alderaan was not destroyed, his family was alive, the Emperor wasn’t here, no one was grasping for him. He managed to disentangle himself from his blankets.

Luke sat up and rubbed his face wearily, wiping away the tears that had collected in his eyes. His eyes were drawn to the small patch on his left arm.Luke’s shoulders sagged in defeat. It turned out there was one part of the dream he couldn’t wake up from. He took a deep breath and peeled off the offending patch but the mark the needle had left was something he couldn't just get rid of.Like he couldn't undo or unlearn the truth it had revealed.

Vader was his father.

Luke heaved a deep sigh. He had been so exhausted last night that sleep had overwhelmed him quickly once he had been left alone in his quarters. But after that nightmare and the events of yesterday he was sure he couldn't go back to sleep now. The memory of the dream was too fresh in his mind and he wanted to avoid returning to it so Luke got up and wrapped himself in the blanket.

He walked barefoot into the living room to pour a glass of water from the pitcher on the table, taking a sip. The ship’s chrono showed it was still in the middle of the sleep cycle and the lights in the room were dimmed accordingly.

He turned his gaze to the viewports. They were in real space and ahead of them floated the orb of a blue and green planet. For a terrible moment it looked like Alderaan. Fear shot through him as he thought Vader had not kept his word and moved the fleet to attack his family and homeworld. It was terrifyingly close to his nightmare.

But the planet was not Alderaan. On closer inspection the continents were different and there was heavy traffic to and from the planets orbit, much more than was ever around Alderaan. Pensive, Luke watched the lights of a city twinkle peacefully on the sunless half of the planet.

Luke wrapped himself even tighter in the blanket against the persistent chill he had come to associate with space travel and sunk to the floor next to the full-length viewport. He pressed his flushed face against the transparisteel, soothingly cool against his forehead and stared down at the huge structure of the Star Destroyer stretching out below him.

He took a few deep breaths trying to clear his mind from the memory of the nightmare, the cloying feeling of the Emperor clutching his shoulders still lingering.

Luke shook his head to chase away those thoughts. He squinted at the planet below. It was annoying not to be able to look up his current location. He was reduced to what he had memorized from his studies about the galaxy’s planets. Luke watched as the Executor moved lazily closer, the civilian traffic giving the behemoth a large berth. Judging by the traffic and its climate it was maybe Corellia. Or perhaps Chandrila, it was hard to tell. For all he knew they were in the Outer Rim, far away from the Core.

Luke huffed. He got to see the galaxy now, like he had so often dreamed of. But only as a prisoner, dragged in the Imperial Navy’s tow and never getting to set a foot on any planet and with no idea where in the galaxy he even was.

Maybe he could ask Vader.

The thought made Luke wince as, with a guilty twinge, he remembered the deal he had struck with the Dark Lord. Bail would surely be furious if he ever found out that Luke had actually agreed to back Vader in his coup. But he hadn't had any choice, had he? He did it to protect his family, his homeworld.

Luke tried to calm himself. He’d made his decision and given his word so he would have to wait and see what Vader planned for him. He had so many questions. His world had truly been turned upside down. Who was he even? It had been a bit like this when his parents had told him he was adopted but this time there was so much more at stake.

How often had he struggled with the peaceful and passive attitude of Alderaan? When he had learned that he was adopted he had wondered if that particular streak had come from his biological parents. He had always tried to smother his desires, it was his duty. And now that he knew he was actually the son of Vader, he was unsure if he wanted to discover any more parallels between himself and his sire.

It shouldn't matter. His character was not determined by his genes. Or at the least, their influence wasn’t stronger than his upbringing’s. And still, despite himself, Luke found himself immensely curious to learn more about his supposed talent in the ways of the Force. Vader had more than once insisted he had great potential.

Vader had also insisted he had been kidnapped. His fury at his adoptive parents had been almost palpable and his threat to punish them had been real, Luke was sure of it. But Luke couldn’t believe his parents would ever do something like that. So did they know the truth? Had they known who Vader was when he had invaded their home to take him captive?

Luke rubbed his face. It was frustrating. His life and his destiny wasn't what he had thought they were. Instead he felt very alone, with a barrage of burning questions and no one to ask but Vader, of all the people in the galaxy.

+++

He must have dozed off after all. Luke woke with his neck aching. He had been leaning against the viewport. Luke picked himself up. At least the dream had not returned and judging by the brighter lights in his quarters the ship’s day cycle had begun. A glance to the chronometer on the wall confirmed it. Luke got up and threw his blanket on the bed.

After a quick sonic shower, he picked a simple pair of black pants from his new wardrobe as well as a black long-sleeved shirt with a high collar and the pair of high leather boots he had been given. He had no option but to wear what had been given to him. In a way it was fitting. He was Vader’s son after all.

He looked himself over in the mirror. It was a dramatic change from his flowing robes which were always either white or in soft pastel tones as was customary for the heir of the throne of Alderaan. He had to smile briefly despite himself, thinking of the heart attack the majordomo of the palace in Aldera would have if he witnessed this shocking breach of Alderaanian court protocol. The outfit sat well on him though. Now he looked every inch the Imperial that he should have been, that he probably truly was.

Luke brushed a finger over the silver pendant he always wore, a family heirloom his mother had given him some years ago. He tucked it under his shirt. Luke entered the living area in time for a sharp knock on the door. “Come in,” he said curtly and the door opened for the captain who had first delivered him to this prison.

The captain stared, astounded. Luke wasn’t the only one to think he looked like a different person. It was his captors’ wish to shape him, at least on the surface, to their twisted dark ways. Luke covered his self-consciousness with a thick layer of royal irritation, narrowing his eyes on the captain.

+++

No matter how much he told himself that he wasn’t feeling guilty, that he wasn’t responsible in any way, Captain Piett had been unable to shake a bad feeling the entire night. Yesterday he had been made aware that so far the boy had done his best to refuse any food. He had decided to talk to the boy in order to spare him a run in with Lord Vader.

However, before he’d had the chance to do so, Vader himself demanded a report on the prince and Piett had to tell him the truth. Vader had promptly swept to the boy’s quarters to bring the prince to heel, leaving Piett mulling over the boy’s possibly horrible fate for the remainder of his shift and well into the night.

Piett took a deep breath and rounded the corner of the corridor which led to the prince’s quarters, unwilling to show the posted guards his own wariness. An officer had told him that after yesterday’s clashes with the Sith Lord the boy had been taken back to his quarters only marginally more subdued. But Piett deeply doubted he had yet submitted to his new position.

Piett had heard that in every encounter the prince had been frosty to Lord Vader, to put it mildly. In his humble opinion the boy was doing his very best to creep up the list of people most likely to be strangled this week and Piett was concerned that the boy’s status as a political hostage wouldn’t be enough to keep Vader from snapping before long.

Despite what gossip suggested it wasn't a daily occurrence that a cooling body of some unlucky officer was dragged off the bridge, a casualty to Vader’s infamous temper. Nevertheless, Piett had seen it happen quite a few times.

He himself had been able to avoid the minefield successfully so far and he felt it was his duty to try and prevent it whenever he could. Granted he could not stop Vader once he had made up his mind to strangle the very life from whoever managed to incur his wrath, but Piett liked to think he had quickly developed a sixth sense for what to do in order to avoid the situation entirely and made a habit of sharing his knowledge.

That went doubly with the young, overeager and untested cadets fresh from the academies as top of their classes or with glowing commendations to serve on Vader’s personal command vessel and be formed into good officers. Piett would take some time out of his day to talk with them before releasing them into the bridge pits where they ran into the acute danger of stepping on Lord Vader’s toes. He liked to think that he had saved quite a few of them with his briefings on How to Avoid Being on the Receiving End of Lord Vader’s Arcane Powers.

And these were all sworn in officers, keen to serve the Emperor. The young prince had been forcibly dragged here and was under constant threat. Not even his compliance would guarantee his safety. He was a pawn to pressure one of the galaxy’s most outspoken critics of the Emperor into submission. He could understand why the boy was in no mood to be cooperative with Vader or anyone else on the ship, but he hoped to talk some sense into the young royal and dissuade him from his hunger strike.

Piett straightened his uniform as he approached the guarded door where he met the trooper designated to bring the boy breakfast. He rapped on the door before he went in, the boy was a prince after all and to be treated with due respect.

Piett blinked. The prince had shed his flowing white robes he had stubbornly worn for the past two days. In his new clothes he looked sterner and more serious, a haughty, dark prince who people should think twice about crossing. A far cry from the frightened young boy that had been brought aboard.

“What is it, Captain?” the prince asked, sounding supremely irritated.

Piett gathered himself. He would not allow himself to be daunted by a sixteen year old boy, prince or otherwise. “Good morning, Highness,” he inclined his head very slightly. “I have been instructed to keep you company during your breakfast.” Which could take all day if the prince was still in the mood to refuse any food, Piett thought sourly.

The prince smiled faintly. “You mean, you are to make sure I eat it?”

Piett hesitated, unsure how to reply to the boy’s directness. The boy spared him the need to answer. He sighed slightly, waving at the door leading to the dining room. “Well, after you then, Captain.”

Piett nodded to the trooper who had hovered behind him and he placed a tray on the dining table. The trooper hung around the door, seeming unhappy to leave the captain alone with an unrestrained prisoner no matter how slight of build the boy was. “Dismissed,” Piett ordered shortly.Brute force shouldn’t be necessary to coax the boy to eat. Not immediately, anyway.

He stepped through the door into the dining room, pleasantly surprised that the young man followed him closely. Without further prompting the boy took the seat where the tray was laid out. He then gestured to the seat opposite him. “Please have a seat, Captain…?”

Being one of the most senior officers on board this vessel it felt weird to be offered a seat, especially by a boy. But then sixteen years or not, the boy was royal and probably more used to be waited on and treated with great respect. Piett sat down in the indicated seat. “Captain Firmus Piett,” he offered, seeing no use in refusing to give his name.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Captain Piett,” the boy replied politely if somewhat mechanically. Piett could easily imagine the boy being pushed down long rows of dignitaries, obliged to say the same thing over and over again.

“Likewise, Your Highness.”

The boy watched him with piercing and shrewd blue eyes until he removed the foil covering the food. “I suppose you already had breakfast,” he said.

“I have,” Piett confirmed. His shift had started several hours ago. He watched the boy eye the rations with disdain. Piett clenched his jaw. It was the best they could offer and not many on board the Super Star Destroyer were entitled to these rations. Even on the flagship of the Imperial Navy nutri-meals was the standard for the crew and the ship’s complement of troopers.

The boy met Piett’s watchful gaze and smirked. “It must be quite demeaning for you to be made to supervise my nutrition intake.”

“Quite the contrary, Your Highness,” Piett replied quickly, unwilling to admit that he didn’t exactly have orders to be here. “Your status has been given high importance, which includes your well-being.”

“Oh please, Captain,” the boy answered with a trace more scorn. “You know that my well-being is being held to ransom.”

Piett bit his lip, unsure how to reply. The prince sampled his food in dainty spoonfuls. He turned his attention back to Piett, piercing him again with his intense blue gaze.

“Are you going to make conversation or do you prefer to just watch me eat?” the boy asked lightly. “I can’t very well do both, you see, and as my breakfast has become a matter for the captain of this vessel I should probably concentrate on that.”

Piett gathered himself, a direct approach was most likely the best and at the very least he got the boy to eat. “Your Highness, I understand your position is quite… difficult for you,” he began, meeting the boy’s gaze head on. “However I feel I should warn you to tread more carefully around Lord Vader.”

The boy cocked his head. “And what exactly are you referring to, Captain?”

“I understand that you… struggle to submit to his authority… You should try and refrain from shouting at him for starters, and show him the respect that is due his station.”

"Your request is a challenging one," the prince commented evenly, his eyes drilling into Piett's. "I am not here of my own free will. I have been dragged from my home and family with no prospect of release, all thanks to your commander."

“Lord Vader is the second in command of the Empire meaning that you as an Imperial citizen will have to take his judgment as-”

“As what, Captain? As the will of the Force? We have laws to determine what is right and what is not. No individual should be granted such power, regardless of the favor they might enjoy within the regime.”

Piett scowled, of course the boy was well versed in such arguments. “I merely want you to keep in mind that Lord Vader has little patience for disobedience.”

The prince leaned back in his chair, mockingly casual, the corners of his lips quirking upward. “Are you referring to the fact that Lord Vader likes to dispose of whoever crosses him?”

“I would caution you to be more careful-”

“Well, one would think I am quite safe. Dead, I can no longer be used to blackmail my father.”

“I am worried this might not protect you for long, Your Highness,” Piett said.

“Worried? Why? You have no stake in my fate.”

Piett took a breath. “I do not wish to see you harmed, Highness. You are young and you should not be held accountable for other people’s… differences.”

The prince raised his eyebrows. “And yet you would stand by quietly if Lord Vader decides that a pound of flesh is necessary to make his or the Emperor's displeasure known.”

“I… I am obliged to follow orders,” Piett answered, forcibly restraining himself from fidgeting with his gloves. The boy certainly had a talent of cornering someone with his words.  

The prince nodded then. His cold stare eased and a small smile returned. “I understand the sentiment, Captain. And I do appreciate that you care.”

Piett nodded, he could easily imagine that the prince had rarely the opportunity to do and say what he wanted. “And my… cautions?”

“Again I appreciate that you have shared your view. I will see what I can do.”

Piett thought that was all he could ask for. For now. “I understand you had… little time to prepare before you came, so if there is anything you require, I will see what I can do to procure it.”

The boy’s face darkened with memory and Piett cursed inwardly for bringing it up. But then the boy smiled lightly, nodding. “Well, I should be thankful I got arrested at the beginning of my Galactic History class, at least this way I managed to avoid learning any more about Rim colonization,” the boy said rather amiably.

Piett smiled back despite himself. “It does sound rather… dry.” The boy bestowed an open smile on him, the first genuine one he had seen since he had met the boy. His heart panged at how much younger it made the prince look. “What interests you more?”

The boy regarded him for a moment. “I try to learn what I can, regardless of the subject,” he said carefully, his openness vanishing in a heartbeat. Again he returned to the calm dignified exterior Piett associated with politicians. It did not suit the boy, Piett found. The prince had passion and dreams yet his upbringing prevented him from showing them, not even allowing himself to feel them. But, Piett had to admit, he was clearly good at feigning a calm and neutral demeanor. He found himself wondering how the boy would have turned out had he grown up as a normal boy without obligations and duties to an entire planet.

“Well, I would think you could use some distraction here. I might still have a few datapads from my time at the academy,” Piett said on a whim, trying to change the subject while the boy was finishing his meal.

The boy’s eyes twinkled. “I don’t imagine they cover any subjects I have experience in.”

“It might still be of interest to you.”

The boy regarded him again for a silent moment, probably trying to guess Piett’s intent, before he nodded. “I agree, Captain. Thank you for the offer and for extending your hospitality to me,” he said and got to his feet. Piett followed suit.

+++

True to the captain’s word, not an hour later Luke had received a box filled with datapads covering a variety of topics from fleet management and basic tactics to ComScan and navigation. With nothing else to do but ponder his future, Luke picked up one about military tactics and started reading.

He had been at it for some time when the door to his quarters opened again unannounced. Luke looked up from the couch he had perched himself on. A stern officer stood in the doorway and stared at him.

“You are required to come with me, Your Highness,” he said curtly, stepping in and revealing several troopers behind, ready to enforce the demand.

Luke’s nerves fluttered but he tried to cover it with an irritated look. He got up slowly. There was no point in resisting. The man seemed unimpressed, waving Luke to precede him into the corridor. Four troopers surrounded him as soon as he stepped out the door and Luke found himself once again being marched through the ship.

He didn’t know if he’d been taken this way before, yesterday he’d been too upset to memorize anything. But when they rounded a final corner and a large set of double doors came into view he knew where he was. Luke took a deep breath to calm and brace himself.

His father was waiting for him.

+++

Chapter Text

+++

The double blast doors opened upon their approach and Luke’s escorts grabbed his shoulders, probably worried he might run now that he knew where his journey ended. He shook his shoulders indignantly but couldn’t shake them off. The officer led them into the same room where yesterday Luke’s life was changed forever, and knowing that Vader was waiting for him made him jittery.

No matter how much thought he had given it, it was still hard to accept that Vader was his father. Every time he did, his mind involuntarily dragged him to the deal he had struck with the Dark Lord. Not knowing what Vader expected him to do exactly to back him in his schemes was twisting his guts. But he supposed he would find out more soon whether he wanted to or not.

His entourage stopped a few steps in. Vader was nowhere to be seen. Luke licked his lip nervously, a habit he had never been able to fully shed. Another door opened and the black menacing form of Lord Vader appeared, heading for them with determined steps.

Luke braced himself and buried his insecurity best he could.

"My Lord, the Prince, as ordered," the officer said, coming to attention, and Luke heard the man’s nervousness. He wasn't sure if it was unsettling or reassuring that even the Imperials were not impervious to Vader’s overbearing presence.

“Very well, leave us,” Vader ordered curtly to his men. Luke was released, his escorts acting like they couldn’t leave quickly enough and were happy to leave the prisoner to face the Dark Lord’s wrath alone. Vader turned to stare at him with unnerving intensity while the troopers filed out.

Luke had to physically restrain himself from taking a step back. Vader stared him up and down but did not comment on his new wardrobe.

“The captain has reported you acquiesced to eat your breakfast without protest, Highness,” Vader stated, breaking the uncomfortably stretching silence.

Luke was a little chagrined at being the subject of reports, so he merely nodded.

“I am sure you have many questions,” Vader said, gesturing somewhat invitingly.

Luke bit his lip. Vader was as blunt as he had been before. Of course Luke did, but how should he phrase all the questions that were buzzing through his mind? Best to test the waters first.

“The planet last night, which was it?”

Vader tilted his helmet slightly. “The Executor stopped over Corellia for a few hours last night to reprovision,” he replied. “You were awake.” It did not sound like a question.

“I… I could not sleep,” Luke replied vaguely, unwilling to discuss his nightmare, the memory still fresh.

“You dreamed,” Vader stated. Luke thought of denying it but Vader seemed awfully certain. Luke wondered again how much of his mind was open to Vader. He nodded.

“How…” he began, but broke off. Should he really ask this? But maybe the only way to deal with Vader’s bluntness was to counter in kind. He raised his chin. “Can you read my mind?”

Again the impassive mask tilted slightly to the side.“The mind is not like a book to be read at leisure,” he began. “But for those able, there are certain techniques. It is possible to pick up the thoughts, feelings and… visions of others and even to find out secrets or events that are long past. It can be especially effective if both are attuned to the Force. You have not been taught to shield yourself against mental assault which makes your mind vulnerable.”

Luke frowned. “Is that… is that how you found out about me? I mean, that I was adopted?”

Vader hesitated again. “Yes,” he admitted. “I will teach you these techniques and how to protect your mind and thoughts against such attacks in the future.” Luke’s frown deepened. Why would Vader want to do that, surely it was beneficial for him to be able to access his mind? Vader appeared to have picked up on his thoughts once more. “I respect your privacy, Highness. Furthermore it is of utmost importance that you learn how to constantly shield your mind and Force presence.”

Luke gave a small nod, not entirely reassured by Vader’s promise that Luke would be able to keep his thoughts to himself.

“I am sure you have more questions than that?”

Luke took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. He had thought about everything Vader had said yesterday and he still wasn’t sure what to make of it. He was sure that Bail and Breha would never kidnap anyone, it was so unlike anything they stood for. There was nothing for it, he had so many questions, and no one who could answer them except for Vader. So maybe it was best to get this over with and at least get his side of the story. “I have been told that my birth parents died at the end of the clone wars, just after I was born. But you said yesterday that I was… kidnapped from you,” he began, unsure how to phrase his doubts without risking Vader’s anger. “But… but how?”

“A personal enemy of mine, the Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi, disagreed with my beliefs and turned your mother against me with false claims. She must have died in childbirth while I was recovering from the duel with Kenobi which left me confined to this armor and respirator," Vader replied. “I assumed you had died with her. I am sure it was Kenobi who took you to the Organas with the aim to keep you from me.”

Luke bit his lip. He wished he could talk to Bail. His father would surely know what had really happened and would have good advice for him, as always. He’d know what Luke should do. Now he had only Vader’s word and his own nagging doubts.

“What do you know about the Force?” Vader demanded abruptly, ripping Luke from his thoughts.

Luke looked up at him. This was a dangerous topic to discuss, especially with Vader. Since the rise of the Empire such talk could get anyone in trouble. With a cold feeling he remembered what Vader had said about being able to read what was on Luke mind. There was no point in pretending then. “I… not much. I have been told that the Jedi used it, that the Force was what gave them their strength,” he answered truthfully.

“The Force is an energy field created by all living things,” Vader replied. “It is what binds the galaxy together. I will train you in the ways of the Force, show you how you can use it. You have much to learn.”

Luke braced himself. Despite his curiosity to learn, he feared the irrevocable change to his life that would come when he started learning about the Force.

“I am not sure if I’m ready for…” he began cautiously.

Vader turned sharply on him. Luke froze and swallowed the rest of his sentence. The Dark Lord stared at him for a long moment. “There is no need for you to be afraid,” he said. “You have great potential in the Force. It would be a crime to bar you from developing it and I will not allow you to waste your talent.”

Luke stared at him unhappily, but Vader continued unperturbed. “Once your mind has opened to the Force, once you have begun to feel it flow through you, you will have no more doubts. It is your birthright.” He stepped closer to Luke and placed a firm hand on his shoulder, preventing him from taking a step back. He was close enough that all Luke could see was the bulk of his armor in front of him. Luke stared at the lights on Vader’s chest plate and he took a deep breath to calm himself. This reminded him too much of yesterday and the fear he experienced when Vader had attacked him.

“Close your eyes, Luke,” Vader instructed. Luke hesitated, his anxiety spiking, but then complied. Vader placed his free hand on top of Luke’s head and Luke flinched slightly. “Calm down and let me guide you,” Vader said in his deep voice. “The Force is all encompassing, it surrounds and penetrates everything. Listen to it, pull it close to you.”

Luke furrowed his eyebrows. That was awfully vague. For a long moment nothing happened and Luke was about to ask what Vader wanted him to do. But then Luke became aware of something tingling in the back of his mind. He scrunched his eyes closed and tried to reach for that odd, but not uncomfortable feeling. It was like chasing a memory long forgotten, something he knew he should remember but which eluded him every time he tried to bring it to the forefront of his mind.

“Concentrate, Luke,” Vader said. Luke tried, but again and again that small tendril escaped him. Vader shifted his hold on him, both hands now resting against Luke’s temples. A new sensation crept into Luke’s mind and he was acutely aware of Vader’s proximity, even though his eyes were still closed. It was as if Luke could see Vader in his mind, as something big and dark and cold, yet also strangely familiar. His father’s presence reached for him like he’d done with his hands, in an attempt to guide him.

Luke tried again, now with Vader’s guidance, to reach for the small tingling tendril still lingering beckoningly at the back of his mind and this time it didn’t evade him. It came closer and became brighter until it surrounded him, enveloping him in its warm light. Luke felt like he had just ripped open his eyes for the very first time in his life. 

It was like the first time he had stared into the blue swirl of hyperspace. Like staring into the darkness of space and finally noticing it is sprinkled with light; seeing the stars gleaming in the sky above Aldera, powerful and radiant. It was comforting to be in touch with the universal energy of the Force. Most of all it felt right. Through it he could see and feel Vader so much more clearly; a frozen sun filled the room, as flinchingly cold as it was bright. Vader responded to his probe, reaching for him too.

Confused, Luke blinked when his connection to the Force was carefully severed, the harsh lights in the room biting his vision. Luke realized that Vader was holding him by his shoulders. His legs were weak. He blinked up at Vader, who gave his shoulders a small squeeze. “You have done well. With time and training you will be able to touch the Force at will and learn how to wield it.”

+++

It was a promising start - the joy and marvel the boy radiated when he had helped him to open his mind to the Force. He had known the boy had great potential, it had been impossible to miss ever since he had discovered their connection. And despite his reluctance, it was also obvious to Vader that the boy was curious to learn and eager to discover his talent. Now that his son had actively drawn upon the Force for the first time he would always want to return to it. It was infuriating that the child had been kept so thoroughly from the Force for sixteen years. It was the right moment to teach the boy actual skills, to give him a taste of how he would be able to use and manipulate the Force to his ends.

Luke looked confused when Vader helped him return from his first encounter with the Force. The boy swayed and Vader steadied him with his hands. Soon his son would become used to the sensation and be able to draw on it without help.

“Very well,” Vader said, when Luke had focused again and found his balance. “Come with me.”

He turned and left briskly, leading them deeper into his quarters. He could feel Luke follow, albeit hesitantly, through the narrow corridor. Vader stopped in front of a door and gestured for Luke to enter first. The boy reluctantly stepped forward, the room beyond was only dimly lit and he was clearly not keen to go in. When he hung back on the doorstep, Vader placed a gentle hand at the small of his back. Upon their entrance the lights of the room became brighter revealing a fairly spacious room decked out with training mats. The far side of the room was lined with dueling droids, all of which were deactivated, but the prince still eyed them apprehensively.

Vader gave Luke another small push. Vader closed the door behind them and activated the lock. He had no fears that Luke would try and run, but it would not do for them to be disturbed. Even though it was unlikely anyone would dare to disturb him when he had ordered to be left alone. They could not take any chances. The boy seemed to have picked up the faint metallic click of the locking mechanism and Vader could sense a rush of uneasiness. He decided not to comment on it, keeping the boy on edge could prove beneficial to training. Over time Luke would become more trusting if he was careful not to upset the boy.

“Sit down, Highness, and close your eyes,” Vader ordered, after letting the boy take in his new surroundings. Luke turned to him, his eyebrows raised. The boy hesitated once more, his obedience still very reluctant. Now, however, wasn’t the time to press him on it.

“Sit down,” Vader repeated, with only a hint of impatience in his voice. “You have agreed to submit to my teachings,” he reminded him. The Prince bit his lip and sat down cross-legged in the spot Vader had indicated. Vader followed suit, taking his place opposite of the boy, who regarded him with wary eyes. “Very well, close your eyes.”

The boy frowned slightly, but complied. 

“Let go of your conscious self and reach out to the Force, like you did before,” Vader instructed him. The boy’s eyebrows knitted. Vader reached out to help him again, gently guiding him through the whispering folds of the Force.

He could feel the boy’s elation when he succeeded, but it made his concentration slip and they escaped him again. “Focus on them,” Vader said. This time Luke had more success and the Force responded eagerly to his tentative approach, its tendrils reaching back for him.

“Very good. Now hold them close and open your eyes,” Vader ordered, placing a small metal cube on the floor between them. The Prince did as he was told, regarding him with a mix of curiosity and wariness.

“Now reach out with the Force and lift the cube.”

The Prince’s frown deepened when he stared at the cube, trying to follow the instructions. For long minutes nothing happened. Vader could feel the effort the boy made. With some gentle nudges from Vader, Luke managed to tighten his still flimsy hold on the Force and the cube rose a few inches above the floor. Luke grinned in delight, the first time he had seen the boy actually smile in his presence, but in that moment his focus wavered and the cube fell to the floor with a clatter. Luke winced, waiting for a reprimand. But Vader did not criticize him.

“Do it again, this time do not lose your focus. Let the Force flow through you.”

Luke tried again and succeeded in lifting the cube more quickly.

“Very good. Now pull it to yourself.”

Luke did and with visible effort he managed to slowly bring the cube closer. Vader was pleased with the progress. He placed another two cubes on the floor. “Lift these too.”

Luke stared at them with great skepticism. The first cube instantly took a dive. Only narrowly he managed to catch it back with the Force before it hit the ground.Slowly Luke split his attention, lifting a second cube. After a few trials all three of them hung wavering at different levels in the middle of the room. Vader was extremely pleased with his son’s progress and so was the boy himself, if the joy he could feel radiate from him was anything to go by. Maybe it was time to try something new. He could feel the boy’s confusion when the cubes started one after the other to move closer to him on their own account, no longer obeying his commands.

“Defend yourself.”

Understanding slipped home in the boy’s face. But no matter how hard he pushed, one by one two cubes hit him in the chest, until one was left. Luke lifted his hands, frustrated by Vader so casually making a fool of him. He screwed his face as he tried with all he had to push the last cube back at Vader and managed to stop its progress.

“Good,” Vader was pleased. But the cube was once again under Vader’s control shifting back to Luke. The boy scowled and put all his energy into pushing it away, his frustration fueling him. The cube rushed toward Vader and collided into his chest armor with a dull thud.

Luke stared in open surprise, then winced, expecting a rebuke. “Very good, Luke. You have great talent. With practice you will master it.”

+++

Luke walked down the gray corridor, closely followed by an escort of two troopers that had picked him up from Vader’s quarters. His mind was still on the training. He was surprised how much he had enjoyed his first lesson in the Force, how good it had felt when the Force was flowing through him. Vader had added more cubes to raise the difficulty level and Luke had struggled and succeeded in levitating them one by one. 

When Vader had announced the end of the training session, Luke was almost disappointed. Vader had often praised him and cautioned him to continue the exercises whenever he was alone in his quarters.

Luke rounded another corner and stopped in surprise. Captain Piett leaned against the wall like he had been waiting for him. Frowning, Piett looked him up and down and Luke got the impression that he was scanning for injuries. It made him wonder about Vader’s reputation.

“You are alright, Highness?” he enquired, one eyebrow raised.

Luke gave a small smile. “I am, thank you, Captain.”

Piett looked doubtful but did not press. He nodded and turned to leave. The troopers behind Luke gave him a slight nudge. Luke swallowed his annoyance and moved as well. But they only made it a few steps.

“So, this is the Prince Organa,” a cold voice sneered behind them and it made Luke instinctively brace himself. Piett came to an abrupt halt and Luke picked up the sudden tension in the captain. Luke stopped too and turned slowly. It was the portly admiral that had been in the hangar to greet Vader when he had been brought aboard, freshly dragged off from Alderaan.

The admiral came closer, measuring him up. He wasn’t much taller than Luke. “I cannot say that I like your presence onboard my ship, Organa,” he said with a false grin, ignoring any courtesy.

The dismissive tone threatened to spark Luke’s usually well suppressed temper. He took a breath to calm himself. He straightened his back and pulled out the haughtiest look he had in his royal arsenal.

“Well, Admiral, I cannot say I am overly enjoying being here either,” he replied, his tone light and with only a faint trace of annoyance. He would not let himself be intimidated by any of them.

Dimly he thought he felt Vader’s Force presence brush against his mind, like he had during training when he had been attuned to the Force. But before he could hone in on the sensation he was distracted. An open palm smacked him across the face in full force. Luke gasped as his head whipped to the side. A fist buried itself in his stomach, forcing the breath from his lungs, and he doubled over. He bit down on a whimper.

“Sir, on Lord Vader’s orders the Prince is to remain unharmed,” Luke heard Captain Piett say urgently. From where he was still bent over staring at the polished black tiles under his feet, he saw the captain stepping in to defuse the situation.

“I am not harming the prisoner, Captain. Merely educating this royal brat. Pull him up,” the admiral sneered and the troopers flanking him seized his arms, forcing him upright again. “You are a long way from home, princeling,” the manscorned.

Luke clenched his teeth. He balled his hands into tight fists; but restrained by the troopers as he was he couldn't do anything to defend himself. And anyhow, he was sure it would do him no good to lash out. Instead he tried to keep calm, drawing on what his father and tutors had taught him in handling difficult situations, but he could not deny the fear preying on his mind. Piett took a step closer next to him, his expression both annoyed and worried. The admiral too stepped closer, closing in on Luke until he was sure that if the man came a single inch closer he would stand on Luke’s toes.

The admiral’s watery blue eyes regarded him with great disdain and a cruel smile played around his lips. “You should better mind your tongue, boy. You are now on my ship and your name and title will not help you here,” he spat, his face mere inches from Luke’s own. “Maybe some time in the brig will teach you to appreciate the hospitality that is being extended to you?”

Luke bit his lip, not trusting himself to give a diplomatic answer. His stomach was aching and he had no wish to be on the receiving end of more of Ozzel’s punches. His silence however seemed to further enrage the admiral, whose face was turning an ugly shade of red. “I will personally ensure th-”

A mechanical hissing went through the corridor. With a relief he had not thought he’d ever feel in the man’s presence he became aware of Vader approaching. The admiral had noticed that they had company as well, as he broke off with a supremely sour look.

“Admiral Ozzel,” Vader said, his deep voice reverberating off the walls. His voice was uncharacteristically soft, softer than Luke had ever heard it, but it still made his hair stand on end. The admiral turned on his heels to face his commander, looking as disappointed as a Hutt who had been snatched away from a juicy eelfrog buffet.

“Lord Vader,” he acknowledged his superior and Luke picked up more than a hint of disdain in the man’s voice.

“I trust you have prepared the scheduled maneuvers, Admiral,” Vader said.

The admiral’s mouth opened then closed again, like he had no idea what Vader was referring to.

Captain Piett dutifully jumped in. “Yes, my Lord, all preparations have been completed and the exercise may commence as sch…” he broke off as Vader sharply raised a hand at him, silencing him.

“Thank you, Captain,” Vader said with a mocking undertone. “The Admiral does not require your help. He will oversee the exercise himself. You will bring the hostage and ensure he remains restrained at all times while he is on the bridge. I would think it to be most… educating for the Prince to witness the might of the Imperial Navy first hand,” Vader finished, bearing down on Luke. Despite being sure that Luke wasn’t in any danger he couldn’t help but gulp.

“Yes, my Lord,” Piett answered, looking slightly ill in Luke’s opinion. The captain nodded briefly to the troopers restraining Luke, who tightened their grip.

Vader regarded Ozzel again, who was sputtering like a malfunctioning engine. He was clearly unable to admit that he was not at all prepared and had relied on Piett to do the job. He fell in step with Vader, marching off at a brisk pace and Luke and Piett followed behind.

Piett shot him a short look and Luke returned it. “I would hope, Your Highness, that you will… um, conduct yourself on the bridge,” he said quietly.

“I will, Captain, have no worries,” he promised and Piett nodded, motioning to the troopers to release him.

Soon they stepped through a large set of double blast doors guarded by troopers. The busy bridge was revealed. The viewports showed a dense star field mottled with Star Destroyers. It was impressive. After Vader and the admiral, Luke was led down the aisle separating two bridge pits with many officers and crewmen working in them. Or rather pretending to, as they were too fascinated by the procession of Vader and his hostage.

Luke drew many curious looks. But it wasn’t too hard to pretend that this was just another function he must attend. His father wanted him to keep up the ruse of being the reluctant captive and with his cheek still burning, his stomach tender and faced with what should be a show of intimidation it wasn’t too hard to pretend. He set his jaw defiantly as Vader turned his attention back to him.

“Very well,” Vader hissed, stepping closer to him, forcing Luke to crane his neck to keep the mask in his sight. “I advise paying close attention, Prince. It would be most unfortunate if you forget what I am capable of and I have to select a suitable target to refresh your memory.”

Any retort would probably end in swift retribution, but Luke bestowed a glare at his would-be captor.

“Captain,” Vader growled and Piett, who’d used the moment to exchange some rushed words with another bridge officer, promptly stepped next to Luke and came to attention. “Ensure that the Prince remains restrained.”

Piett nodded sharply. “Yes, my Lord.”

The Admiral looked lost for words, but he was saved, for the moment, by his subordinates who sprang into action. Luke watched the preparations with genuine interest. In both bridge pits, officers issued sharp orders and a coordinated frenzy began as the bridge lights dimmed and red glow panels illuminated the scene. Battle ready, Luke realized. At the far side of the bridge several small holos flicked into life when communications with the captains of the other vessels were established. A tense but focused atmosphere spread over the bridge as all eyes turned to the admiral.

Luke looked at the admiral, too. He still gave off the air of someone who had no clue what he was supposed to do. Being unable to admit this, he gave the ordered to begin. Luke watched Piett from the corner of his eyes. The captain seemed to watch transfixed what was unfolding right in front of their eyes. Luke had a premonition this was not going to end well.

He turned slightly to Piett. “He’s going to mess this up, isn't he,” he said quietly enough for only Piett to hear. The captain turned his head sharply. Piett's face was stony but the look in his eyes, that was meant to be reprimanding, instead conveyed quiet desperation and said more than the captain ever could verbally.

Vader turned to Ozzel.

“Admiral. You may begin. Show our guest what this battalion is capable of.”

Ozzel sputtered again. His mouth opened and closed, but no coherent sentence or order came past his lips.

Vader’s patience faded quickly.

“Well, Admiral?”

+++

Chapter Text

+++

Even with Luke’s modest grasp on military tactics and procedures, he understood that what had unfolded on the bridge was an unprecedented disaster. The increasingly panicked atmosphere radiating from the bridge pits, the now visible veins on the temples of the portly Admiral and the sweat in his neck all but confirmed his tentative analysis of the situation.

The Executor, together with other Star Destroyers of the battle group had been pitted in an extensive war game against the other half of what Luke had learned was called Death Squadron, Lord Vader’s personal command. Yet despite the obvious advantage Ozzel had, commanding from the behemoth of a Super Star Destroyer, he was clearly still able to mess this task up badly.

The guy was less than unprepared. It was painfully obvious that he was much better at threatening and posing, but for delivery of actual results he relied completely on his subordinates’ skills, mainly Captain Piett’s, Judging by the frequent helpless glances that went Piett’s way from various division commanders, they too were used to count on the Captain’s orders and guidance.

The Captain himself was growing increasingly anxious. Luke could see his fists clenching and unclenching nervously through the corner of his eyes, but Piett was helpless to intervene. Twice he had tried to step in to prevent obvious mistakes before they could happen, but both times he had been shot down quickly by Vader, who insisted in no uncertain terms that he was solely to take care that Luke was witnessing the procedures on the bridge. So Piett was forced, just like Luke, to be a mere spectator to the slowly unfolding drama in front of them.

Luke couldn't help but wonder about that. Was this merely to keep up the ruse of Vader doing his best to break Luke’s resistance? If so, then his father could not be pleased, as it was not going well.

The Admiral’s tactic of relying on his subordinates had rather quickly hit a dead end, with Piett being strictly sidelined. With every mock hit the vessels of their part of the battle group took, the division commanders became more desperate and showed more need for clear directions. Something Ozzel was clearly not able to provide.

Luke had shifted closer to the bridge pit on his side to get a better look at the procedures one too many times and Piett, desperate to do at least the job right he had been assigned to, had ordered the Troopers still hovering behind Luke, to shackle him. So Luke found himself introduced to the highly doubtful pleasure of wearing handcuffs, that held his hands firmly at his back in addition to his guards now restraining him openly, their armored hands firmly wrapped around his arms, holding him so he stood facing the large viewports which limited his ability to watch the ruckus in the pits.

Scowling indignantly, Luke supposed this served the image of the reluctant hostage well, better than Vader’s plan to cow him with an exercise which seemed bound to fail without Piett.

It ended as he had thought it would. The Executor, taken into a prong by two enemy vessels and pounded by mock fire, was taken out and the remainder of the battle group picked up one by one by the opposing party, despite Ozzel remaining in charge even after his command ship had been destroyed. A pity, Luke thought, taking out the incompetent man would have probably saved the other ships.

In the brief silence after the exercise was over, Luke thought he could have heard a needle drop on the bridge, the only thing that disturbed it was the regular mechanical breathing from Vader. Everyone else seemed to be waiting with baited breath as Vader slowly turned from the viewports, where he had stood for the last minutes of the exercise, to face the Admiral.

His deep voice cut sharply through the tense silence. “Do you have an explanation for this abysmal performance, Admiral?”

Judging by the sharp breath that Piett pulled in, there really wasn’t any possible right explanation to give, but it did not stop Ozzel from launching in into a flurry of excuses, pointing the blame to seemingly each and every division commander as well as the respective captains of the other vessels, all of which seemed to be staring at the Admiral with a mixture of growing fear and anger.

Luke thought this tirade would continue forever, but the Admiral’s seemingly unending flood of explanations was cut off unexpectedly mid sentence. Luke blinked, turning cautiously further to have a better view, but neither Piett nor the Troopers stopped him as they too were watching transfixed what was happening.

Something was wrong, Luke realized. It wasn't like the Admiral was lost for explanations all over a sudden. He just seemed unable to bring out any further word. A moment later his hands flew to his throat, as if trying to pry away whatever was stealing his breath, but Luke could not see anything amiss. He briefly looked over to Captain Piett, who looked pale and somewhat solemn.

Ozzel was definitely having trouble to breath, yet no one on the bridge made any move to help him. Cold realization dawned on Luke as his eyes focused on Vader, who had his right hand loosely stretched out in the Admiral’s direction.

Luke had heard rumors, that Vader disposed of his own officers for any failure he considered big enough, he had even scathingly remarked it to the Captain only this morning, but it was an entirely different thing to see it happen right in front of his own eyes, to hear the choking gargles of the man as he tried futilely to drag in a breath. And it was also different because Vader used the Force. Luke suppressed a shudder, would Vader expect him to learn something like this? Luke was sure that he could never kill anyone like this. Stars, he wasn't sure if he ever could kill anyone at all. What in the galaxy had he been dragged into?

Luke stared in shock as the Admiral fell to his knees, still clutching desperately at his throat. Luke took an involuntary step back, causing his guards to tightening their grips in response to his tension. The Admiral sank to the side and gave a last twitch, then he fell eerily silent. Once again no noise could be heard on the bridge, other than Vader’s measured mechanical breathing.

“I suggest, Prince,” Vader’s voice cut like ice through the choking fear on the bridge as he turned to face Luke, who with great difficulty dragged his eyes from the prone man on the floor to the towering black form. “That you take this as an example as to what happens to those that incur my displeasure,” he hissed. Luke swallowed at the open threat. Vader bore down on him for a moment longer, and Luke fought the urge to cringe back. “Captain Piett,” Vader hissed, turning his head sharply to the Captain and Piett, his remaining color draining from his face, stepped automatically forward, coming to attention in front of Vader.

“My Lord,” he said his voice remarkably firm.

“Have the Prince returned to his quarters, then wrap up this operation. I would advise you to personally ensure, that I do not have to witness such a disgrace again, Admiral Piett.”

Piett sputtered for a short moment, but then forced a salute, “Yes, my Lord. Thank you, my Lord.”

Vader turned on his heel and stalked off, his cape billowing out behind him and the collective stares of the Imperials and Luke followed him out until the large double doors hissed shut behind him.

Piett seemed to need a short moment to regain his composure, but then he sprang into action, issuing some quick orders to the division commanders and nodding sharply at some Troopers hovering at the bride’s entrance to remove the body of portly Ozzel. Then he turned his attention to Luke. There was no humor left in his face and Luke thought it would be best not to test him now, as the Troopers still holding him pushed him down the aisle behind the newly appointed Admiral.

The walk though the ship was silent and tense and Luke felt much more a prisoner than he ever had since he had been brought aboard, his wrists still clad in durasteel cuffs and his guards hands holding him tightly.

When they reached his quarters, Piett gestured him to enter first, which he did without protest. Piett followed and finally released his hands.

“I suppose congratulations are in order, Admiral,” Luke said quietly, turning to Piett and carefully rubbing his wrists, the feeling of the binders still lingering uncomfortably.

Piett rounded on him sharply, startling Luke. “He did this for you,” he hissed, glaring at him.

Luke took a step back, for a horrible moment he thought the ruse had been uncovered. But he regained his self-control quickly, setting his expression and facing off Piett. Piett couldn't possibly know and he was likely merely referring to the fact that Luke’s presence on the ship had caused the series of events, that had lead to Ozzel’s death. “I have not asked for it and I cannot say that I have enjoyed it, Admiral,” he retorted back, eyes narrowing.

“It must have been rather amusing from your point of view, Prince,” Piett shot back uncharacteristically scornful. For a moment he stared at Luke and looking like he had a lot more to say, but then he turned sharply, stalking off. In the door he stopped once more for a moment, but left without saying what might have been on his mind.

Luke took a deep breath once the door was shut, lock clicking audibly and indicating he was once more well and truly locked up. He was sure Piett was right. His father had done this for him, to punish Ozzel for hitting him and the thought alone was enough to make him nauseous.

He turned to face his by now familiar prison, feeling quite alone. A quick glance to the clock on the wall told him that he must have spent almost three hours watching the dramatic events on the bridge. He should feel tired, but somehow he didn't. What was he supposed to do with himself now? Luke stepped closer to the sitting area, when something grey caught his eye. Now he was closer to the couch, he could see that a neatly folded piece of clothing sat there, just out of sight from the door, and on top of it a datapad. He picked it up curiously and flipped it on. It only read a short message. Change and meet me, little Prince.

He stared at it for a long moment, unsure what to do. Around here only Vader had ever called him that, so the message could only be from him. Despite his uneasiness, Luke couldn't deny that he was intrigued. He picked up the grey clothing to find it was a simple jumpsuit like he had seen before on the ship, worn by a lot of service men and stamped with the Imperial crest on sleeves and chest. Folded inside was a cap like the Imperials all wore. A complete disguise for him. But how would he get out of here, it wasn't like the guards outside wouldn’t be suspicious if suddenly someone would emerge from this quarters where only the hostage should be in.

A small breeze ruffled his hair and Luke looked up to find the source of it. In the ceiling was an airduct, he had inspected all of them when he had been locked up the first time and they had all been sealed, but now this one’s hatch was a small crack open.

A smile crept over his face. He quickly got changed, putting on the jumpsuit and donning the cap. He checked his reflection in the mirror, smiling at himself in such no nonsense work-a-day clothes. If it weren't for the Imperial crest, he would think these were normal workers attire. Luke climbed on the back of the couch opening the hatch further and poking his head through. Above was an actually decent size maintenance corridor. He pushed himself through the small opening.

In the corridor above he had to stand crouched, but it was roomier than he had thought. Luke took a hasty look around, but he couldn’t make out anyone else up here. He closed the hatch behind him, in case someone would enter his quarters. Well he had gotten this far, but what now? Should he try to really escape? Maybe he could make it to a hangar and steal a ship. Though were would he go? He was a prisoner of the regime and an escape would likely end in a recapture as he was unsure if even his parents with all their influence could shield him or hide him. Besides, he wasn’t sure he had picked up enough second hand knowledge on piloting to start such an endeavor in the first place.

Luke shook his head to clear his mind. No, he could not escape. He knew about this abominable battle station and the Emperor’s sinister plans for Alderaan and the galaxy. His father was here, and as much as Luke wanted to leave for good, he had the chance to make everything right for the galaxy. It was his duty to stay.

A nudge against his foot startled him out of his musings and he stared down. A small mouse droid was bumping repeatedly against his ankle to catch his attention and then rolled off down the corridor. When he hesitated it stopped, waiting for him. Curiosity getting the better of him, Luke followed it down the narrow passageway, only sparsely lit by work lights.

It turned out to be a rather long trek through various maintenance shafts and corridors. Luke tried to memorize the way the droid led him, but there were so many corners and turns that he lost his orientation quickly. Eventually the mouse droid stopped in front of a small barred metal hatch. It rolled back and forth in front of it and Luke grinned. “So, here is my exit?” he asked and the droid beep affirmatively. Luke grasped the bars and carefully pushed them open, poking his head through to see where he was. He was staring down into a rather small hangar, compared to the one he had arrived in, housing only a single TIE fighter. The hatch emerged onto a small platform overlooking the hangar some ten meters above. He froze though quickly, as he heard voices.

“…has been returned to quarters, my Lord,” he could hear an unfamiliar voice.

“Very well, Lieutenant, double the guards. I will not tolerate any further failure. Dismissed!” Vader’s unmistakable bass sounded. Luke stretched out his head carefully a bit further and saw a grey clad officer salute and turn on his heels. Luke quickly pulled his head back in, in fear of discovery.

“Are you going to stay up there, little Prince?” Vader’s voice sounded amused and Luke winced. He had probably known Luke was here the whole time. Well, there was nowhere to go. Luke took a deep breath, then climbed through the hatch and onto the platform, staring down at Vader, who in turn was looking up at him. He looked around to find a way down into the hangar and found a small ladder to the side.

He turned to face Vader when he sat his feet on the hangar floor. “You will not punish them because I escaped, will you?” he asked frowning.

Vader regarded him for a silent moment. “No, Highness. I have ordered you be left alone for now to give you time to think about today’s events, your absence will go unnoticed.”

Luke bit his lip at the casual reminder of the execution he had witnessed. Vader seemed once more to know what was going through Luke’s mind.

“The late Admiral was Palpatine’s man, through and through, installed to spy on me and to ensure I follow the Emperor’s line. I have long waited for an opportunity to have him removed and replaced.”

“Won’t the Emperor be suspicious that you killed him?” Luke asked with raised eyebrows.

“After he had made me and the entire Navy, the entire Empire look like a joke in front of a prisoner I have sought to intimidate? Ozzel’s death has proven to be much more of an example to the captive prince than his clumsy tactics ever could.”

“I suppose you are right.” Luke began thoughtfully, the picture of the lifeless body of the Admiral on the floor still fresh on his mind, but he was not entirely placated. “I thought you had done it, because he…,” Luke broke off, unsure how to phrase this.

“Because he dared to raise his hand against you?” Vader said, his furious tones making Luke freeze. “He has overstepped his place more than once, but when he decided to attack you he has accelerated the inevitable.” Vader stepped closer, looking him up and down in his disguise. Luke forced himself not to take a step back.

“Well, it was surprisingly easy to escape after all,” Luke said, breaking the silence. “Double guards, or not.”

A black gloved finger jumped into his face. “You had an accomplice on the outside. One with access to the ship’s resources and blue prints,” he said in an accusing tone, making Luke smile involuntarily.

“One who broke me out, only to guide me back into your hands,” he said gesturing around and Vader’s vocabulator made a noise which might have been a chuckle. It made Luke’s smile widen a little.

“Indeed,” Vader replied. “This is my personal hangar.”

“Why here?” Luke asked curiously.

“We cannot continue to meet openly, as it would make the Emperor suspicious,” Vader offered. Luke thought about it. It probably made sense that Lord Vader would not concern himself too much with his prisoner.

“I wish to upgrade my ships stabilizators,” Vader broke the silence once more, sounding somewhat hesitantly. “You mentioned that you were… interested in learning mechanical skills, so if you are not too tired…”

“I’m not,” Luke said eagerly, taking a step forward and his face brightening when he stared in the direction of the TIE fighter. But then he winced, remembering how often he had been scolded for being too passionate, too vehement. He composed himself into a more neutral expression, befitting a prince, or so his tutors had always said. “I mean, I would like to learn.”

Vader did not scold him or did even so much as comment, but gestured invitingly towards the fighter and he stepped closer. Vader was following him. Luke rounded the fighter taking in its details. He couldn't help but feel thrilled to be so close to one, when he stood staring up the high wings it was perched on, like an overgrown, yet still elegant bird of prey. It was not a regular TIE fighter which Luke had seen on many occasions, both on patrol flights around Aldera ever since the Imperial garrison had been established and before that on the holonet.

Vader followed him, not interrupting Luke’s inspection and patiently answering all of his questions. When he had rounded the snub twice he turned around to Vader, raising an eyebrow questioningly. Vader showed him where the stabilizators were located and both settled down casually on the floor.

“We will be needing a Hydrospanner,” Vader said, after showing Luke what he wanted to do. Luke stared into the tool box next to him but he couldn't find one. “It is over there,” Vader sounded bemused, pointing to the far side of the hangar. 

Luke stared over, squinting in the direction until he could make out the elusive tool. Slightly annoyed at Vader’s command he made to get up to fetch it, but Vader caught him by his sleeve pulling him back down. Luke stared at him in confusion.

“No, Luke,” Vader said. “Use the Force.”

Luke stared at where the Hydrospanner was lying on a workbench, nerves fluttering in his stomach. “Its to heavy and too far,” he stated, levitating little cubes was one thing but this was something completely different.

“Size and weight do not matter, when you have mastered the Force,” Vader stated with certainty. “Stretch out with your feelings and retrieve the tool.”

Luke closed his eyes to collect himself, trying to touch the Force like he had done before. Its gentle folds seemed to come more easily to him this time and after a few attempts he managed to take a hold of them. He opened his eyes again, trying to will the Hydrospanner to move towards him. But no matter how much he concentrated, the heavy tool did not even move a millimeter. “It doesn't work,” he said frustrated, turning back to Vader. “It’s not possible.”

Vader turned to stare at him silently for a long moment before he reached out himself with his hand slightly raised. Luke watched with jealousy as just moments later the Hydrospanner came soaring gracefully towards them. Vader caught it smartly in his hand, holding it out to Luke. Luke reached out to take it but before he could, Vader made a swift movement throwing the tool behind himself. It slid clattering over the polished hangar floor until it came to rest a good distance away. Luke scowled indignantly at Vader.

“Try it again, son,” Vader ordered. Luke frowned at Vader, but he reached out once again first to the Force and then to were the tool was now lying on the floor. Luke raised his hand slightly in the direction of the Hydrospanner, as if he was physically reaching for it, imitating how Vader had done it. His father placed a heavy hand on his shoulder. For a long moment again nothing was happened. Just before he wanted to give up, the Hydrospanner began to move. It did not rise into the air, instead was scraping along the floor with an awful screeching noise, but it did come ever closer until Luke could grasp it with his hand. He grinned despite himself handing the tool to Vader who gave him a small pat on the back before turning back to the stabilizators.

Not soon after they sat peacefully together on the hangar floor, Vader teaching him how to fuse wires and to locate mechanical problems. By the time Vader announced he had to return to his quarters, Luke felt disappointed but he agreed, it was well into the night and he knew he should get some sleep. Luke climb up the ladder and back into the maintenance corridors were the mouse droid was still waiting for him to guide him back to his prison. Luke couldn't help but feel good at how comfortable and easy it had been to spend time with his father.

He patted the droid, which chirped happily and he slipped back into his quarters carefully closing the hatch behind him. He folded the uniform and put it into his wardrobe, hidden behind all the black stuff he had been given. He took a quick sonic and then slipped into bed, sleep coming much easier to him, than he had feared.

+++

“We need to have a drink on you, Admiral,” someone said behind him and Firmus Piett took a deep breath.

“I’m really not in the mood, Max,” he replied wearily, turning to face his visitor. General Veers stalked closer though, unperturbed by his less than enthusiastic greeting, through the almost ridiculously large Admiral’s quarters, in which his personal belongings had been already moved to.

“I must say I am much happier to see you in here than that old toad,” he said and Piett gave him a scolding look, even though he could understand the sentiment. Ozzel had been a pain to work under, a blundering lazy idiot, who had only made it up due to family connections and the Emperor’s apparent favor. A man quick to take credit for other people’s work and even quicker to blame the same for his own mistakes. Still, the man hadn't deserved to die like this.

Veers approached him, producing a bottle of Corellian brandy from behind his back. “So, where do they keep the glasses in here?” Piett nodded in the general direction where he suspected such items could be located and Veers busied himself tracking two down. Piett stared around, still foreign to the quarters and unpleasantly reminded of the state quarters only two decks down that had been turned into the Prince’s prison. The layout was somewhat similar, if larger and he had caught himself more than once letting his mind drift to the boy and what he was doing right now.

“Ah, here we go,” Veers returned with two glasses, putting them on the table and pouring each of them a healthy amount. He picked them up and pressed one in Piett’s hand. “Well, to your promotion, my friend,” he said, clanking the glasses together energetically. Piett grimaced but drank a large gulp. Both sat down in the comfortable couches of the lounge.

Piett sighed. “Is it a promotion? It feels more like i am the next to be thrown into the Rancor pit,” he remarked bitterly.

Veers reached over and gave him a forceful pat on the back, that was meant to be encouraging but nearly let him choke on his second gulp of the brandy.

“Surely not, Lord Vader knows that your better than that useless idiot,” he said, but Piett merely threw him a doubtful look. in his opinion Vader did not reward good performance, he expected them. Bad performance on the other hand… he shook his head, best not to think about it,

“Besides a promotion is a promotion,” Veers continued undeterred. “And can you honestly say that you have never secretly dreamed of becoming an admiral, when you were still a young, blue eyed cadet?”

Piett chose not to answer that particular question and for a moment they sat in silence until the General turned back to him with raised eyebrows. “Now, would you explain to me, what exactly happened today on the bridge?”

“Why? You were there, weren't you,” Piett said unwilling to discuss the events of the day and still not exactly sure himself what had happened.

“Of course I was,” the General said. “Can’t say I understood it, though. Why didn't you run the exercise. It was damn obvious that the toad had no idea one was even scheduled, even less that he had a clue what to do.”

“Max!” Piett said again in a scolding tone, but then he shook his head. “I couldn’t, could I? I tried, but… Every time I tried to intervene Lord Vader ordered me back. He was livid enough that I couldn't try too often.”

“So I’ve noticed, but why? The kid didn't look like he was about to jump at anyone and if Lord Vader wanted to impress him with our superiority he should have let you run the maneuvers. I doubt the kid was overly intimidated by our performance.”

“I told him about the planned exercise, I forwarded him the schedules and plans three time,” Piett shook his head. “He should have known, he really should have…”

“Calm down, everyone knows that it was his own fault. Still that doesn't explain why Lord Vader insisted on letting him mess this up so thoroughly. Especially with his guest on the bridge.”

Piett looked at his friend then stared at the amber liquid in his glass. “Maybe it was about killing someone in front of the boy, showing him what he can do…” he mused.

“Maybe, but wouldn't the deliberate blunder before somewhat contradict that?”

Piett took another sip. “It began before we got to the bridge,” he said staring at the carpet covering parts of the polished tiles.

“What you mean?”

“The Prince was being escorted back to his quarters, as ordered. But before he could get there Ozzel caught up with us. He insulted and punched him.”

“That little boy?” Veers raised an amused eyebrow. “Can’t pack a punch, can he?”

“Not the boy. Ozzel hit him. The Prince remained quite calm, but Ozzel was enjoying himself a lot.”

“That bloody git…,” Veers hissed in anger. “Just like him to pick a fight with a boy.”

Piett nodded, wholeheartedly sharing the General’s sentiment. “Well, before things could get worse, Lord Vader showed up and told Ozzel to run the exercise… You should have seen him, that blank expression, he had no idea what Lord Vader was even talking about. But of course he couldn't admit it. Well, I tried to step in, but Lord Vader ordered me to bring the Prince and keep him restrained to make him watch. So we got to the bridge and from there… Well, you were there.”

“So Lord Vader did it because Ozzel hit the kid?”

“No! Of course not…” Piett hesitated for a moment. “If you ask me, Ozzel had it a long time coming,”  he finished quietly.

Their conversation lapsed into a short silence, before Veers spoke up again. “Well, this way I at least got my first close up of the boy. He’s really young.”

“He is,” Piett sighed tiredly. “But mature. Impeccable manners, unless he’s around Lord Vader.”

“But who had the idea to make him wear black?”

“What do you mean, probably provisions just send some clothes, he needs spares after all. When he got arrested they didn't let him pack anything.”

Veers shook his head. “No, there’s more to that.” At Piett’s confused look he raised an eyebrow. “You haven't done much research have you? The boy’s the only son of the Viceroy and the Queen making him the Crown Prince of Alderaan.”

“What’s that to do with clothing?”

“Ah, so on Alderaan it’s customary for the crown heir to always wear white, or at least light colors.”

“You’re kidding me,” Piett said.

“No, it’s their tradition, something about symbolizing innocence and peace. Once he takes the throne he can wear darker clothes like is father, but until then it would be against their protocol for him to wear something dark, let alone black.”

Piett rubbed his face with a hand. “Please tell me, that we’re not playing such games with that kid… It’s not like he doesn't have it hard enough already, is it?”

“Well, I don't think it’s a coincidence. A slap in his father’s face to parade him around like that.”

Piett groaned. “A slap in the boy’s face, too. No wonder he wore his stuff for two days straight.”

Their discussion meandered off to other topics and by the time General Veers had finally decided that they had enough drinks on Piett’s unexpected and even more unwanted promotion to what was, in his humble opinion, the entire Navy’s least sought after post, Piett planned to retire. On his way to the bedroom however, his eyes fell on the holonet receiver on the desk in the corner. An idea former in his head, maybe he should do some research on the boy himself and not just rely on the snippets the General told him.

The decision made he sat down and switched it on, bringing up the search engine and typing in the Prince’s name. Just moments later the results popped up. The General had not been joking when he said that the kid had been dragged in front of holocams ever since he could walk, probably even before that.

He could literally watch him grow up from a little boy with even fairer hair, but unmistakable piercing blue eyes to the most recent holos he could find, showing the boy a couple weeks ago during the parade in Aldera to celebrate Empire day. Piett brought up the holo, enlarging it. It showed the boy next to his father and a bunch of elaborately dressed dignitaries and Imperial officers, both were looking in Piett’s opinion less than thrilled. Piett huffed, no wonder, they probably disdained by the fact that they had to represent on that day. Under the picture was a small caption claiming the royal family had celebrated the sixteenth anniversary of the foundation of the glorious Empire. Right underneath it stated that the Crown Prince had celebrated his sixteenth birthday on the same day.

He flipped through more holos showing the boy at functions and charities, sometimes accompanying his parents, but often enough alone. A lot of responsibility for someone so young. And just as Veers had said, on any given holo the Prince was wearing different shades of white, sometimes light pastel tones but nothing any darker than a light blue and his clothing was usually wide and flowing. It could not be a harsher break for him than being made to wear the stiff and rigid black clothes he had been provided with here.

What Piett didn't find was any mention of the boy’s recent disappearance from the palace. No mention at all. For all anyone would know, the boy was still where he should be. It made Piett feel nauseous, the kid had been abducted by all means. He remembered the boy joking about having been dragged away from his studies. He hadn't been sure if it had been the truth back then, but it explained why the boy had been brought aboard without so much as a bag. Piett rubbed his face, feeling guilty at how harshly he had snapped at the boy, holding him responsible for this whole mess.

+++

Chapter Text

+++

With a sigh Luke eyed the spoon, sitting next to his breakfast. He had asked the Imperials, who had delivered the food to at least provide him with proper utensils, but apparently he was still stamped as latently suicidal and not allowed to have them.

He moved to pick up the spoon, but a sudden idea jumped into his mind. He was alone and Vader had said he should practice what he had learned, so why shouldn't he try? Luke closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and reaching out with his hand in the direction of the spoon. He tried to focus on the whispering folds of the Force that, now that he was aware of them, seemed to always linger at the back of his mind, just out of reach, but still there. For long moments nothing happened and Luke pressed his eyes close in concentration. Frustrated he opened his eyes again, staring at the offending piece of cutlery, still lying stubbornly only a few inches away.

After a few moments Luke concentrated again, once more reaching out with his hand and trying to will the elusive spoon through the folds of the Force to him and this time he was rewarded for his persistence. The spoon soared the short way through the air and into his hand. Luke stared for a moment stunned, when the metal of the spoon touched his hand, but then he broke into a broad smile. He placed the spoon again on the table, further away this time and once again succeeded in calling it into his hand, feeling elation at his success. He tried once more, placing the spoon as far as possible to the edge of the table. But he had barely caught the spoon the next time, when Luke heard steps outside and moments later someone wrapped on the doorframe of the open door to the dining room.  

His heart was pounding furiously, as Luke tensed in fear of discovery. Vader had more than once insisted how important it was, that he kept his abilities secret and even without his cautions Luke had a good idea of what happened to Force sensitive beings in the galaxy. He looked up to see Piett standing in the door. Covering his fear with deliberately projected irritation, he placed the spoon back on the table, straightened his back and raised his chin.

“Enter, Admiral,” he said, when Piett made no move to approach him. The Admiral’s expression was serious and it promised, that he was about to pick up where he had left off yesterday after the incident on the bridge, but at least he did not look overly suspicious. The Admiral stepped closer.

+++

The Prince stared at him with a mixture of annoyance and uncertainty and Piett half regretted, that he had even come down to speak to him. It was too late to retreat though.

“I thought, we had established that I eat what rations I get,” the Prince said rather stiffly and with a tight smile, nodding at the food tray sitting in front of him.

“I am not here to…,” Piett broke off his half formulated explanation, gathering himself and straightening his back. “I have come to apologize to you, your Highness.”

The boy’s expression changed for one of genuine surprise as he looked back up at him. “What for, Admiral?”

“I was quite… rude to you yesterday,” Piett stated feeling awkward.

The Prince bestowed a small open smile on him. “I have not taken offense, Admiral. And I understand, that you have been in a very difficult spot.”

“Thank you, your Highness.” Piett replied. He lingered for a short moment unsure if he should say anything else, but then turned to leave.

“Please, Admiral. Have a seat, if you like,” the Prince said. Piett stopped and turned to him slightly hesitantly. “I would suppose you could do with a cup of tea and I am happy to provide an excuse to justify your presence here.”

The explanation caused Piett to smile himself and he stepped closer, sitting down opposite the boy. “Such as?” he enquired with slightly raised eyebrows, the smile still around his lips.

“Well, the most likely one ought to be, that I have refused to eat my breakfast. But I’m sure we can think of something more creative.”

“I do not think that is wise, Highness,” Piett said looking more serious. “You do not want to incur the wrath of Lord Vader now.”

“I suppose that is true,” the boy replied, his smile vanishing as well. “I would assume you are less than thrilled to have received this promotion.”

Piett floundered for a moment. Of course he was, but he could not openly share his sentiment with Lord Vader’s hostage. “It was unexpected, I nevertheless shall do my best to fill the post adequately,” he replied evasively and suppressed a grimace when he saw the boy smile at him. Of course, he must surely good at reading between the lines of any diplomatic answer, he thought.

 “Well, if you would share this with me, why did you join the Imperial Navy, Admiral?” the Prince asked unexpectedly after a moment of silence between them, surprising Piett with the question.

“Why would you be interested in this? I thought Alderaan does not condone such an occupation,” he asked back, eyebrows raised.

“True, one of the many career options not open to me. Hence my interest,” the boy said smartly, regarding Piett with sharp eyes for his age.

Piett thought for a moment, but there was no reason not to tell the boy. “I started off as part of my home worlds anti-pirate fleet. My… record must have come to the attention to senior officers of the Imperial Navy and I was integrated. Lord Vader handed me my first command as captain of a Star Destroyer.”

The boy had listened rather interested. With a glance on his chrono, Piett got up. “It has been a great pleasure to talk to you, Highness.”

“Likewise, Admiral,” the boy replied with a small courteous nod. Piett had to give it the boy, he was tough and had maturity beyond his years. Piett left the dining room and was surprised to find two officers waiting outside for him with rather serious expressions. The Prince was still lingering in the door.

“Sir, a word,” one of them said in a tone that did not bode well and Piett nodded, stepping closer to them and out of earshot from the Prince.

“What is it, Lieutenant,” he asked and the Lieutenant held up a grey bundle. Piett stared at it in confusion, taking a moment to recognize it as a technician’s uniform complete with a cap.

“Sir, we have just now found this hidden in these quarters during the routine search,” the Lieutenant said, silently enough for the Prince not to pick it up. Piett took a deep breath, a cold sensation creeping into his stomach, the meaning clear to him as were the consequences. But he had no choice.

“Good work, Lieutenant,” he said warily, taking the bundle and turning to the Prince, standing a couple steps away with slightly raised eyebrows. “Care to explain, Highness?” he asked, holding up the uniform for the boy to see.

The Prince stared at the bundle, recognition flashing briefly over his face and something Piett thought was resignation. After a moment he looked back into Piett’s eyes, fixing him with his piercing blue gaze. “Well, you cannot exactly blame me for trying, can you?” the boy said rather nonchalant.

Piett worked his jaw for a short moment, for a moment wishing the Prince would have denied it all, but it wouldn't matter either way. “I will have to bring this to Lord Vader’s attention and he will decide how to deal with this situation,” he said, steeling himself and trying his best not to think of what Vader would do to the boy, especially after his murderous wrath just the day before.

“You do that,” the boy answered in a devil-may-care manner, but Piett thought he could see a flicker of fear in his eyes.

Piett hesitated for a short moment, but stalling would not do him good. “Troopers,” he ordered curtly and they stepped closer to the Prince who tensed slightly, but took a step forward at Piett’s gesture and without resisting walked behind him to the door, the Troopers staying very closely at the Prince’s heels.

It was a quiet track trough the Executor’s corridors. By now the boy should know, they were headed straight for Lord Vader’s quarters. Piett tried to quell the pang of conscience he felt. The boy was right, he could not blame him for at least trying to escape from this impossible situation, he had been forced into. But Piett was sure this would not stop the Dark Lord. Vader would punish the boy for attempting it regardless. Yet there was no way he could shield the boy from this.

The door to the Lord Vader’s quarters opened at their approach and Piett steeled himself, entering first. Vader stood in the middle of the room, silently regarding the small group with the boy in the middle.

“What is it, Admiral?” Vader’s deep voice rumbled, when he had come to attention before him.

Piett cleared his throat. “My Lord, a routine inspection of the Prince’s quarters has uncovered a technician’s uniform hidden in a wardrobe,” he said, the direct approach was usually the safest when dealing with Lord Vader.

Vader approached them slowly, his hands clasped behind his back and his mask angled at the boy, who stood his ground, displaying more bravery than many seasoned officers Piett had seen crumbling under Vader’s gaze. He stopped in front of them, holding one hand out to Piett, who relinquished the offending uniform into the black gloved hand. Vader never let his masked stare leave the young Prince. “I have warned you of the consequences, if you would step out of line again, boy,” he hissed with such venom that it made Piett’s hair stand on end, even if he knew, that he was not the one it was aimed at.

The Prince was not easily cowed though. He took half a step forward, his hands clenched into tight fists and his cheeks flushed in anger. “And I told you, I will not be an obedient pawn in your twisted machinations,” he shot back, his voice full of righteous anger. Piett's heart leapt into his throat, the boy really had no sense of self-preservation.

For a moment a tense silence hung in which Piett inadvertently held his breath, then Vader’s hand lashed out, soundly hitting the boy in the face. The blow was harsh enough to knock the Prince flat off his feet and he landed sprawled out on the polished floor at Vader’s feet, barely moving. Piett stared in shock, but stiffened when Vader turned his full attention to him.

“Very well, Admiral. I will ensure his Highness will be more compliant in the future. Dismissed,” he ordered curtly and the half formulated attempt at an excuse on behalf of the boy stuck in Piett’s throat. He forced a salute and left together with the Troopers and officers that had accompanied them as quickly as possible. Before the door hissed shut with awful finality he caught a glimpse of Vader throwing the offending uniform on the floor next to the still dazed boy, towering above him and giving off the air of impending interrogation and punishment.

+++

Vader’s gloved hand took hold of his shoulder and he turned Luke gently on his back.

“You needn’t have hit quite that hard,” Luke ground out reproachful, massaging his burning cheek and blinking up at the black form bent down over him, blocking out the harsh lights from the ceiling.

“I am sorry, Highness. But it had to look convincing,” Vader replied. “Can you sit up?” he inquired.

Luke nodded and tried to get up, but a wash of dizziness let him stop half way and he squeezed his eyes shut. A large hand caught his back, supporting him to a sitting position. Luke tried to will the rush in his ears away, but it became stronger instead. Vader’s hand at his back shifted to support him better while he sat and tried to regain his composure. But before he had reopened his eyes, a second hand sneaked under his knees and he was suddenly scooped up like he was five years old.

Luke ripped open his eyes, completely startled. It took him a moment of breathless gaping, to comprehend that Lord Vader was actually carrying him like a little child. “Hey…, wh… put me down,” he yelped finally at finding himself in such an undignified position. But Vader was not obliging, instead he started to walk off briskly through a door deeper into his quarters. “Put me down,” Luke tried again, mortified. “Father!”

 “You might be injured, Luke,” Vader replied, not showing the slightest inclination to let him down anytime soon.

“I’m fine, now let me down,” Luke protested, but Vader did not answer him. Luke tried to struggle halfheartedly, but Vader merely tightened his hold slightly. He finally gave up, realizing he would not be going anywhere, but wherever Vader was carrying him and he slumped into his grip. He thought with a huff what anyone would say, if they would be privy to this scene. The Crown Prince of Alderaan cradled like a little child in the arms of the Dark Lord.

A door hissed open and Vader carried him through. Luke took in the new surroundings. It was a small med bay, the sharp smell of disinfectant hanging faintly in the air and Vader wasted no time to place him carefully on the examination table in the middle. Luke tried to sit up, but Vader kept a large hand firmly on his shoulder, holding him down with frighteningly firm resolve. Vader activated a medical droid that had sat powered down in one corner of the room. It promptly rolled forward and began examining him.

“Are you experiencing any pain or nausea, Sir?” it asked, holding a sophisticated scanner up to his face.

“No, I’m fine, I tell you…,” Luke tried again and moved to sit up, but once more his attempt was thwarted by Vader who was back at the table, holding both his shoulders down resolutely.

There was nothing for it. Luke had to lie still while the droid conducted an, in Luke’s opinion, excessively thorough and unnecessary examination of him. He had never been overly fond of medical procedures, but he tried to relax, realizing he wouldn’t be going anywhere until Vader had decided it was enough. He had actually called him father, Luke thought. Vader had not commented on it, but Luke couldn’t imagine that he had missed that. He had never thought he could ever call him that, but it had just slipped out of his mouth and it had felt right.

Despite his occasional protests that he was fine, Vader did not let him sit up until the droid had proclaimed he had not sustained a concussion, fractures or any other injury and Luke had been administered a dose of a painkiller which Vader had insisted on. After the droid had finished, he finally helped Luke up to a sitting position. Luke was strangely touched by this apparent concern for him.

Luke sat on the examination table while the droid applied a healthy amount of bacta gel to his still burning cheek. “If only you Imperials wouldn’t hit the same cheek all the time,” Luke huffed, looking up at his father. He thought he could practically feel Vader’s mood drop, at the reminder that the late Ozzel had hit him as well.

“I will not allow any of them to touch you, little Prince,” he declared fiercely. “What I have done was necessary to keep up the ruse. You needed to be punished for your escape attempt.”

Luke winced. “I did not know they would have my quarters searched,” he replied sullenly, cursing himself for not hiding the uniform the behind the airduct. Then he looked up. “Won’t it look suspicious, if you have me treated?”

“It would,” his father agreed. “I will have them collect you in an hour and I will make sure you will at least look the part. If you continue to play your role well, no one will suspect a thing.”

Luke nodded somewhat reassured but still a bit worried how Vader would rough him up.

“In about one week we will reach Carida,” Vader stated unexpectedly and Luke raised his eyes up at the mask fixed on him. “In the local Imperial Academy a military parade will be held in celebration of the Imperial victory at Belnar.”

Luke frowned. He had heard about the brutal subjugation of Belnar and in his father’s eyes this had been one of the Empire’s worst war crimes of the last few years. Countless of civilian lives had been lost and vast parts of the world had become uninhabitable after the battle.

“I will have to attend this pointless waste of time,” Vader continued. Luke couldn't help but smile a little, when he heard Vader’s apparent dislike of such tedious and pompous events. It seemed they were sharing their sentiment wholeheartedly, when it came to these things. He looked up to Vader, his smile still playing around his lips.

“Well, if I can sit through six hours worth of Empire Day parade with a straight face, then so can you. You wouldn’t even have to worry about looking too bored while watching it.”

“It is good, that you feel this is a simple task, Highness,” Vader replied dryly and Luke raised a questioning eyebrow at the amused tone. “Since you will be required to attend it as well.”

Luke’s face fell instantly. “What? No… why?” he asked chagrinned. The prospect of attending a stupid military parade was not at all heartening.

Vader was silent for a moment before he answered. “So far the place in Aldera has chosen not to comment on your disappearance. The Emperor is most displeased about this, he wishes to make a point with your… custody as a warning to others openly opposing his line.

Luke groaned, having a sinking feeling in his stomach. Attending a military parade was bad enough, but now he had the distinct feeling that in truth he was the one being paraded around. “But wouldn't that be dangerous? I could escape after all…,” he tried.

Vader rounded on him with unexpected vehemence, making Luke stiffen involuntarily. “You would be very poorly advised to attempt an escape when surrounded by the whole military academy on Carida, Luke. You will be under very close guard and I will have to punish you for any misstep.”

Luke raised his hands, surprised by Vader’s sharp warning. But it made sense. Of course he would be heavily guarded and if the Emperor wanted to make a public statement with showing off his latest political hostage, then he would surely be watched every step of the way.

“I won’t,” he promised. “I’ll be careful.” But inside he felt worried at the prospect of having to attend what would surely be a hostile function, he still remembered the late Admiral’s attack and he did not look forward of having to endure more of the same.

“There is no need to be nervous, Highness. You will remain at my side for the whole time,” Vader stated, once again he seemed to know exactly what Luke was thinking. “I will not be able to shield you entirely, but my presence should be enough to deter any too offensive behavior towards you.”

Luke bit his lip, not feeling overly reassured by that, but it wasn’t like he had much of a choice.

The droid rolled back announcing his treatment was finished and Luke got up from the examination table, glad that he was finally released. “So we have an hour?”

“We do,” Vader replied, placing a hand on his back, guiding him from the room. “I will teach you some basic meditation skills for you to practice in your quarters.”

Luke frowned a little, that didn’t sound too exciting but still he was eager to learn more about the Force and let himself be guided to the same dueling salle his first training had taken place in. He sat down cross legged where Vader indicated.

Meditating would probably not become his favorite exercise, but Vader insisted that it was important to further his hold on the Force. And Luke could not deny it was effective, with every try under Vader’s guidance he seemed to be able to call the whispering folds of the Force faster to him and managed to hold them longer. He marveled once more at how right the Force felt to him, how comfortable he felt whenever he touched it.

At the end of the hour Luke felt pleased with his progress. When Vader announced they had to part again he had been disappointed, but Vader promised to continue his training soon. Vader stretched out his hand and Luke accepted it, letting him pull him up.

The second he had gained his footing however Vader shifted his grip, grasping the sleeve of the black tunic he was wearing and ripping harshly making Luke stumble, tearing the seam. “Hey, what…” he yelped startled.

“You will need to look like I have punished you severely,” Vader remarked, sounding amused at Luke’s alarm. “Will you be able to keep up the ruse?”

“And pretend you tortured me for my escape attempt?” Luke smiled slightly at his sire. “I can do that. But you should probably make up a confession you have gotten from me, as I clearly had outside help.”

Vader looked at him his mask slightly tilted to the side as if thoughtful. “True, I should try and capture your accomplice, Highness.”

Luke smiled broader. “I shall look forward to our next meeting, father,” he said and Vader placed a large hand on his shoulder squeezing it.

“As do I, son.” Vader shifted his grip, guiding him through the flight of rooms back into the main room the Admiral had dropped him off to be punished. Vader turned to him and with a large hand he tussled his hair, messing it up thoroughly. He took his collar ripping it, too.

“A shame for the shirt,” Luke remarked, trying to alleviate his nervousness at Vader’s hand so close to his throat.

“It suits you, Highness,” Vader replied and Luke felt slightly embarrassed at the pride the could hear in his voice.

“It it not really befitting me, though,” he mused, staring down himself. “I have never worn anything darker than light blue and green.”

“Which is why the clothes were chosen for you.”

Luke nodded, he had figured as much, the symbolism not lost on him. “The fallen Prince of Alderaan,” he huffed. “How true it is.”

Vader brushed a hand against his cheek startling Luke. “You are not fallen, son. You are rising. Embrace your destiny and let it guide you.” Luke nodded against the palm brushing his cheek, suprised by Vader’s fierce declaration. He felt uncomfortable when he thought about what Vader said was his destiny as it was so far away from what he had ever imagined it to be.

He was startled out of his thoughts when Vader suddenly whirled him around until he stood with his back to him. His father took hold of his right arm and carefully fastened a pair of binders around his wrist. Luke stiffened in fear despite himself. “So you would beat up a bound boy?”

Vader carefully placed his left hand in the other half of the cuff closing it. “I shall live up to my reputation, especially when I am dealing with my recalcitrant prisoner,” he said with a hint of humor in his voice. He turned Luke back around. Luke looked up at the mask imagining how terrified and angry he would have been had this situation been real. “Kneel down, Prince of Alderaan,” Vader said and Luke eased himself on his knees.

“Quite a breach of protocol,” he said, looking up at the huge form of Lord Vader towering above him. But before he could say anything else, Vader dealt out a slap whipping his head to the side, just as the door hissed open and Luke could hear footsteps behind him. He gasped audibly, even though the blow had barely touched him.

He remained bent over, not looking up at the approaching footsteps until an unyielding hand grasped his chin forcing him to look up at his would-be tormentor. “I shall think this has taught you the consequences of your disobedience, Prince.”

He tightened his grip, forcing Luke to tilt his head up uncomfortably until Luke hissed out a small, “…yes.”

“Good. Take him back to his quarters,” Vader’s voice chilling cold and an involuntary shudder ran down Luke’s spine. Vader gave him a push that nearly sent Luke sprawling again, but he caught his balance in time. Rough hands seized him and he was pulled to his feet. He did not look up at Vader, but instead let his head hang down, trying to project exhaustion, pain and defeat. He let himself be dragged off without resisting.

Luke had let the Troopers drop him in his quarters and had retired to his bedroom. He felt anger at the fact that his quarters had been clearly been closely searched in his absence and only haphazardly brought in order again. But he should have seen it coming, really. He was a prisoner after all.

He flopped down on his bed feeling tired, his last thoughts before he drifted off to sleep were that he had ended up calling Vader father more than once.

+++

Admiral Piett paced up and down the bridge. He had delivered the boy to Vader, reporting the boy’s escape attempt. Vader had, just as Piett had feared, not waited to make his displeasure known, foregoing any courtesy and ignoring the directive that the boy should be kept unharmed. Piett’s stomach clenched when he thought of the boy’s small form lying dazed at the Dark Lord’s feet when he had left.

Guilt was eating him up, both because he had told on the boy and also because he allowed himself to feel this way. Stars, he was an Imperial Admiral. He should not get invested in the fate of an enemy of the regime, even when it was a sixteen year old boy, who had had no particular hand in inciting the wrath of the Imperial leadership.

Piett shook his head, to clear his thoughts. In the wake of yesterday’s events many things required his attention and his tasks were piling up for him demanding his organization and management. He also needed to sooth the bridge crew’s ruffled feathers.

About an hour later his comlink buzzed and with a feeling of dread he saw that it was a summons from Lord Vader. He handed the watch to the Executor’s first officer as no new captain had been selected yet and made his way to Vader’s quarters. He arrived in time to see the boy being dragged out, heavily supported by two Troopers and his hands tied behind his back. His hair was in disarray and his shirt ripped. The Prince did not look up as he was dragged past him, clearly unaware of his surroundings.

Piett clenched his teeth at the injustice the boy had to suffer at Vader’s hands. He looked after the Prince but Vader’s voice carried into the corridor. “Enter, Admiral.” He took a deep breath and stepped through the door. Vader stood there composed and immaculate looking as always. Piett came to attention his hands clasped behind his back, trying to purge his own unease. He had always stood firmly on Lord Vader’s side and he would do well to ensure his loyalty would not fall into question now, else he would suffer his predecessor’s fate.

“I will name Lieutenant Venka to acting captain,” Vader informed him and Piett nodded automatically. He was a logical choice.

“Very well, Admiral. You may choose to relay your responsibility for the Prince to Captain Venka. If so, make sure he understands, that he will be held directly accountable should the boy get away.”

Piett took a breath. “My Lord, I will take care of this matter myself.”

“As you wish, Admiral.” Vader said. “It will remain your task then to ensure he does not escape. The boy must have had an accomplice, who procured the uniform. Find him,” he ordered.

“Yes, my Lord.” Piett answered promptly.  “Shall I have a medic see the Prince in the meantime?” he asked tentatively.

“That will not be necessary, he is not critically injured.” Vader replied, dismissing Piett.

Piett swallowed, but forced a nod and saluted before he left the room.

+++

Piett stood bend over a small console on the bridge, Vader's warning still in his ear. Over the screen in front of him and the staff officer a sheer endless list flickered. “Lord Vader is right, the Prince must have had outside help. How else would he have gotten his hands on the uniform?”

The staff officer agreed, but by the dismayed look on his face Piett could see that he was feeling very doubtful, if they would be able to find whoever had provided that particular uniform that had surfaced in the boy’s quarters among the thousands of procurement orders that were in the ship’s logs.

Piett sighed, straightening his back. “Very well, conduct a thorough investigation to find that traitor,” he ordered warily. Whoever had chosen to try and help the boy needed to be found, for all of their sake, including the Prince’s. “Do we have Alderaanians aboard?” he added as an afterthought.

“Other than the Prince,you mean, Sir? They do not usually pick a military career, but I will investigate if we have any crewers hailing from Alderaan,” the staff officer confirmed, looking relieved at the prospect that at least that list could not be longer than the first.

“Very well, find out. If we do, have them questioned and see, if they had access to a uniform or the Prince’s quarters.”

+++

Chapter Text

+++

Admiral Piett automatically straightened his uniform when he came to a halt next to the shuttle’s open boarding ramp, a long ingrained habit. Two hours ago the Executor had entered into orbit above Carida, a planet most renowned for its huge Imperial academy known to produce a large portion of the elite of the Empire’s armed forces. Hailing from Axxila himself and having served there in the local anti-piracy fleet before Lord Vader had personally encouraged his transfer to the Imperial Navy, Piett had only had a precious few times set foot on that planet. He felt quite foreign among the many graduates meeting there and seemingly endlessly chatting about their academy days whenever any official ceremony was scheduled.

He estimated that nearly a third of the Executor’s senior officers’ had spent at least part of their training on the blue and green planet currently floating beneath them. Piett was grateful to have an excuse for staying aboard to hold the bridge, while a number of the senior staff would accompany Lord Vader to attend the military parade in honor of some glorious victory of the Imperial Forces. Piett never had much sense for such displays anyway, even though he had to admit, that they were impressive.

Piett exchanged a few words with the shuttle crew and the so far assembled officers who would be going planet side, among them General Veers who looked decidedly keen on attending the parade, but then he was one of the typical products of the academy and deeply rooted in their alumni meetings. Piett broke off, when he spotted movement at the far side of the hangar, seeing the prince escorted in by a number of guards. Piett took a deep breath. He hadn’t seen him since the incident with the uniform which had resulted in the prince’s regrettable punishment at Lord Vader’s hands, not daring to visit him again.

The prince was closer now and seemed to have spotted Piett, fixing his eyes on him. On first glance the boy did not look worse for wear. His hair was back to a neat side parting, the style he seemed to favor and his black outfit was once more looking immaculate. But Piett could well imagine the still healing bruises and cuts that were covered by the long sleeves and high collar.

The boy slowed at the foot of the boarding ramp, giving Piett a small nod. To Piett’s surprise he couldn’t see any anger or hate in the boy’s eyes. He had expected him to be resentful for turning him in to Vader. He returned the small nod, but before they could exchange any word the prince turned his head slightly and his face went stony. Just a moment later Piett became aware of the distinct breathing of Lord Vader and he straightened his back.

The prince stalked up the ramp without saying a word, closely followed by his stormtrooper escort. The general exchanged a small look with Piett before he followed the boy into the shuttle and he turned himself around in time for Vader to approach him, facing his commander and giving him his full attention. He took a breath then launched into his well rehearsed report before Lord Vader would leave the ship.

+++

Veers stepped up the short ramp into the stubby transport shuttle. The inside of the craft was only dimly lit and the two rows of seats lining it were slowly filling up, but Veers quickly spotted the boy, who was being strapped into the crash webbing of his seat by a trooper leaning over him. Veers let himself drop in a seat opposite the boy, eying him with interest. The prince was giving off the air of a haughty arrogance, but Veers could see through it. The prospect of the upcoming trip to the surface was clearly making him nervous. He could see the boy fidget with the cuffs of his black tunic and he sat stiffly in the seat he had been assigned to.

The prince let his eyes wander through the shuttle regarding the assembly of officers coolly before he turned his attention on Veers, fixing him with his piercing blue eyes, not seeming at all surprised that Veers had scrutinized him before. For a moment they stared at each other until Vader stepped into the passenger compartment, his heavy footsteps and breathing sounding louder than usual in the confined space. The prince did not react for a moment, but when Vader passed them, his cape brushing over the boy’s feet Veers could see the boy flinch visibly.

It wasn’t surprising. The admiral had told him what had happened the last time the two had clashed. The ship wide investigation for the boy’s accomplices was still going on, the ones responsible not yet found. It was surprising that the prince was still allowed to leave his quarters, much less the ship. His attendance of the parade down on Carida had been heavily debated by many officers, a few of them disgruntled as the prince’s presence meant that a some of space on the shuttle was taken up by him and the troopers assigned to guard the boy, keeping some of the senior staff to attend the event.

It seemed irrational to let a high profile prisoner like the prince to set foot on something like this parade. On the other hand Veers had some firsthand experience how much Carida was like a prison to those who wanted to leave without having been granted such leave. His own one-time attempt to sneak into the next town to meet with some friends for a drink had ended at the last fence around the academy compound and with both a formal reprimand and a night in the brig before his commanding officer had deigned to bail him out. Retrospectively it had not been one of the finer moments in his army career.

+++

Luke raised his chin, determined not to let anyone see how nervous he was. Strapped tightly into one of the seats he tried to calm his breathing to sooth his nerves. He felt very much aware of the curious stares he was receiving. Annoyed Luke raised his eyes to meet the gaze of the Imperial sitting opposite him, returning the look for a moment. He looked vaguely familiar, maybe he had been present when he had been brought aboard or he had seen him during his short stint on the bridge. Luke eyed the rank plate. Thanks to the admiral’s datapads Luke was getting better at recognizing the various ranks in the Imperial military and he was quite sure that this one was a general. Luke’s musings were interrupted when Vader walked swiftly past them, disappearing into the cockpit.

Calm down, Highness. You will do fine.

Luke flinched at hearing the deep, rich voice in his head, something he was sure the general had not missed. During his last training Vader had explained to him the bond that existed between them, fuelled by their close relationship and mutual Force potential and how this bond could be used to communicated without needing to speak out loud. It was disconcerting to hear Vader’s in his head like this and so far he had not fully been able to hide in his face that he could hear a voice.

Luke was sure the general had resumed studying him up close and Luke sighed, choosing to ignore him. He fixed his eyes on the metal flooring in front of him instead, listening to the different noises the shuttle made as the repulsors activated or the chatting of the men around him. They had not even reached the academy and he was already whishing himself back into his quarters, no matter how suffocating they sometimes seemed. Enduring droves of Imperials scrutinizing him, while having to listen to their self-praise was promising to be taxing. The shuttle shook slightly when they entered the atmosphere and Luke could feel his own nerves flutter again.

Only a short ride later, the shuttle sat down on its landing struts and Vader reemerged from the cockpit, impatiently making his way through main passenger compartment to the boarding ramp. He walked past Luke without sparing him a look. Luke kept his head down and got to his feet as ordered when his guards had freed him of the crash webbing. The troopers that had escorted him to the shuttle on the Executor took up position at his back as he stood behind Vader waiting for the shuttle to decompress.

A moment later he stepped down the ramp after Vader, who had rushed out the second the hatch had opened. Luke tried to focus on the positive. This was the first time he was back on a planet since he had been forced to leave Alderaan and breathing in the fresh air after being aboard a ship for so long felt undeniably good. Luke took a good look around. They had landed on a large empty tarmac. Around them several stubby grey painted buildings were scattered over the vast compound of the academy, the largest of which they seemed to be headed for.

The heavier gravity of the planet that was one of the reasons the Empire favored the location for training their ground troops, was making walking noticeably more difficult than he was used. By the time they had reached the welcome committee of stormtroopers and a bunch of decorated officers in front of the building, Luke was feeling out of breath from trying to keep up with Vader’s long strides.

The most senior looking one of the assembled Imperials addressed Vader with some pointless pleasantries before his humorless gaze fixed on Luke suspiciously as if he expected him to jump any moment.

“Will you be needing additional security to keep the prisoner subdued?” He took in Luke’s appearance and the guards behind him.

“That will hardly be necessary, Commander," Vader answered, impatience giving his voice a dangerous note.

“I understand, my Lord.” He gave Luke another lengthy stare, looking quite unconvinced. Luke bit his lip to stop the snarky comment on his tongue from escaping. He straightened up, instead bestowing a look of cool disapproval at the man.

“This way, please.” The commander finally turned and led the way toward the main building and Luke was roughly pushed forward before he could utter a word. Luke could already feel his temper rise at the dismissive tone of the man, but he did his best to calm himself. It would do him no good to snap back and he was better than this anyway. Vader had warned him that any resistance would have to have consequences so as little as he liked it he had to put up with it. Instead he tried to remember what his adoptive father had taught him about handling situations like this. If Bail could stand to be sneered at every time the Imperial senate gathered in Coruscant, then Luke could do it, too.

They were led through lenghty dull corridors until they reached a large assembly hall, the buzz of a big crowd already audible in the hallway. Luke lingered in the doorway for a moment, reluctant to go inside until he received a shove forward and he only narrowly managed to avoid stumbling ungracefully into the room. He scowled at the troopers, before he turned to scan the room they had entered, filled to the brim with pompous looking officers sipping on drinks, many of them eyeing him with cool interest.

Vader’s hand landed on his back and Luke let himself be steered further into the crowd, his nervousness peaking. Their arrival was sparking a lot of curiosity, making Luke wish he could just turn invisible instead of having to tolerate the humiliation of being pushed around like a dangerous criminal. Luke tried to keep an unfazed exterior and he hoped strongly that he would not blush.

Vader was guiding him closer to the center of the room, ignoring any attempts of Imperials to greet him until a portly man in uniform made his way toward them. With a stab of annoyance Luke recognized the man. It was the Imperial governor of Alderaan. Luke narrowed his eyes and set his jaw in anger, the sight of the man throwing him back to the day of his arrest.

“Governor,” Vader rumbled the moment the man had reached them.

“My Lord, it's a great pleasure to meet you again. I..."

Vader cut across him before the man could dive further into his sycophantic babbling. “You can assure yourself that the prince is in a good state,” he said, giving Luke another small push forward.

“Indeed, my Lord.” The governor turned his attention from Vader to Luke and gave him a once over before fixing his gaze on Luke’s face, barely concealed contempt in his eyes. “I will inform the Senator and the Queen accordingly. I am sure they will be pleased to know.”

Luke felt his temper reach boiling point fast, despite his vow to keep calm and he was certain that some of his anger was creeping into his features.

“Highness,” the governor addressed him, finally choosing to acknowledge him, inclined his head a tiny bit toward him, a derisive small smile on his lips.

“Governor,” Luke replied, barely managing to keep his disdain for the man out of his voice.

“I trust you are enjoying yourself.” The governor was staring him down once more, taking in the clothing he had been made to wear, his smile never leaving his face.

„I can hardly say that I do,” Luke returned frostily. That ugly toad sure enjoyed how things had changed since his capture and the new power he now held over his family. The governor’s lips curled into an open sneer at Luke’s apparent anger, goading him into trying something only to bear the punishment. But before Luke could lose what little self-restraint he could still muster, Vader intercepted.

“That is enough,” his dark voice interrupted Luke’s half formulated insult before he could open his mouth again. Vader curtly nodded to the stormtroopers that had stayed close by. “Bring him.”

Without another word Vader swept from the room and Luke was seized by his guards and pushed brusquely after him. He was marched down another corridor looking just as dull as the rest of the building. He kept his eyes trained on Vader, bubbling annoyance still flaring in his stomach.

You didn't tell me he would be here. Luke send to Vader, feeling resentful.

No, young one. It was unnecessary to upset you prior to this. 

Luke frowned at the explanation and Vader not even trying to deny that he had deliberately let him run into this unprepared, but before he could ask any more they had reached a large door leading out onto a balcony already half filled with Imperials.

Vader did not stop in the doorframe, but forged on, making his way through the crowd to the very edge of the balcony. His appearance was driving a wedge through the assembled officers who respectfully stepped back to make way for him. Luke followed in his wake, the stormtroopers guarding him finally releasing him when he had reached the balustrade himself, standing next to Vader. His attempt to challenge Vader once more was cut short by the sight of a massive duracrete parade ground below that they were overlooking.

The balcony behind them was filling up fast and soon Luke was tightly crammed into his little spot next to Vader. Some Imperials bumped into him in their eagerness to get a front row space themselves and Luke scowled indignantly.

Soon the first chords of a march started playing over blaring speakers and Luke could see a wave of soldiers moving into the square. This was indeed promising to be a long day.

+++

“Senator!”

Bail Organa turned at the urgent call to face the aide half running down hall to reach him faster. He opened his mouth to enquire what was going on, but the aide was quicker.

“It’s about the prince,” he gasped out when he was close enough to him to not have to shout too loud, already half turning and beckoning him urgently.

It took Bail a moment to find his own faltering breath before he rushed after the aide, his heart pounding furiously. Ever since the Imperial raid on the palace they had not heard a word or really any snippet of information from Luke. They couldn't even be sure where Luke was being kept, but Bail was convinced that Vader would keep the boy within his reach.

The aide guided him down the long hallway and finally into a small conference room in which a number of palace aides and advisors were already staring transfixed on the large holonet receiver that dominated the room. Bail stared at it in confusion. It was currently showing a massive military parade, thousands of Troopers marching in step over a massive parade ground followed by a company of walkers.

Bail was about to open his mouth to ask why watching one of these useless shows of force the Emperor seemed so fond of should be worth his time, but then the holocams switched and now focused instead on a balcony filled to the brim with uniformed officers and dignitaries watching the display. But that wasn't what truly caught Bail’s eyes. In the middle of the balcony right at the front was Darth Vader. Even so small on the screen he still managed to look imposing and menacing. Cold anger seeped into Bail’s stomach at the sight to the man who had ruthlessly abducted his son.

“Is this live?” he demanded. “Where is this taking place.”

The aide turned to him promptly. “It is, Senator. The newsfeed says the parade is taking place on Carida, in celebration of the Imperial victory at Belnar.”

Bail narrowed his eyes on the image. Of course the Empire would celebrate their most hideous war crimes with a pompous martial show. But it also meant that if Vader was currently on Carida, then Luke could not be far, unless the Emperor’s henchman had already lost interest in the boy and shipped him off to be held somewhere else instead. Bail was hoping that was the case as every minute Luke had to spend in that man’s presence was a gamble, a danger that Vader would find out what he and his wife had managed to keep from him for sixteen years.

Bail had contacted Kenobi the first safe chance he got after Luke had been taken captive, informing him of what had happened. His answer had arrived just a couple days ago over the secure channel they had established for emergencies, unused in all these years. Kenobi had assured them that the shields he had crafted around Luke’s mind when he had left them with the newborn would still be sufficient to prevent Luke from developing his Force potential and that Vader would have no reason to suspect anything. Kenobi had been shocked just like him that the man who had risen from the ashes of the boy’s biological father was now the one holding the prince hostage and threatening to torment him at the Emperor’s whim.

But he had agreed with Bail, that they could not interfere. Trying to rescue the boy from Vader’s clutches was dangerous and with the life of the prince at stake, they could not risk it, even if he could muster the resources to attempt it at all. Nor could they reveal the boy’s true parentage, in the hopes Vader would show mercy. Bail wasn't sure the man was even capable of such sentiments anymore and he would likely hand the boy, who Kenobi was sure had inherited his father’s formidable talent in the Force, over to his Emperor. Their good intentions would backfire on them and the galaxy would be plunged into even deeper darkness, should Palpatine choose to turn and twist the innocent boy into another one of his dark disciples. And if he wouldn't, then Luke’s life was put in even greater jeopardy and he would likely suffer the same fate of the Jedi and so many Force sensitives in these dark times.

No, as little as they liked it, they were powerless to stop the boy’s ordeal. For his and the whole galaxy’s sake they had to trust in Luke’s strength to hold his own against Vader. Bail could take a little comfort from the fact that at least the girl remained safely guarded by Kenobi and far from her father’s grasp.

Still their lack of options hadn't stopped him and Breha from petitioning the Emperor again and again, requesting the release of the prince, but of course Palpatine showed no inclination to grant them clemency. Their pleas had gone unanswered and instead he had received a formal demand from the Imperial palace, ordering them to release a statement, that Prince Luke had willingly accompanied Lord Vader in an effort to support the peace.

They had refused. Doing so would all but legitimize the kidnapping and that would send other planetary leaders and senators the message that not even the Organas were helpless to stop this from happening to their own son.

He and Breha had instead decided not to comment on their son’s disappearance. Just because their hands were tied to fight the Emperor’s oppressive rule, they still had to make sure that others could courageously continue in their stead. He knew like his wife that they could not forever cover up, that Luke was no longer where he should be, in the safety of his home, but they could buy some more weeks or even months until the moment when they had to reveal it.

Bail still stared at the image of Vader, now shown close up by the holocams and it took him a few long moments until realization struck him like lightning and he felt like the ground had fallen out from underneath his feet. His gaze had shifted to the side, to the small figure standing next to the towering Dark Lord nearly hidden in his shadow.

He was sure he would recognize him anywhere and in any attire, the blonde tuft of hair, his small frame and the unmistakable way he carried himself. Dressed from head to toe in black the slim form of his precious son stood right next to Vader, watching the troop display with a stony expression.

+++

Staring on the masses of soldiers marching over the parade ground, Luke was involuntarily reminded on the occasions he had watched a similar display alongside his father on Alderaan. Thinking back, it must have been his seventh birthday, when the Emperor’s megalomania had reached their peaceful world and as decreed all core worlds had to celebrate the spectacle of Empire Day with military parades. Before that Empire Day had been a more quite occasion on Alderaan, his father always seeking small ways to show how little he liked the Empire and what it stood for on its very founding day he had instead dedicated the day to charities and festivals, though Luke didn’t remember too much of them.

He did however vividly remember this one. Despite his father’s disdain for the spectacle, Luke had been secretly impressed by the colorful troop display. The sheer masses of soldiers marching in step and the pompous fireworks that had seemed to be only there for him, to celebrate his own birthday that by an unlucky coincidence fell on the same date.

Over the years the parades had changed and so had Luke’s opinion of them. They had lost their color and had instead become more and more martial and intimidating. With everything Luke had learned of the Emperor’s harsh ruling of the galaxy he had become increasingly disgusted by them, yet every year the parade and the numbers of dignitaries visiting their system for the occasion had grown. It became much more tedious to spend his birthdays greeting a never ending line of Imperial officers and the occasional moff or governor. It made him wonder, if some of them he had briefly met then were here today as well, enjoying the opportunity to make him feel inferior.

Then a few years back, it must have been his thirteenth birthday, the mood had changed drastically. That year small protests against the increasingly harsh grip of the Empire on local systems had sprung up at the edge of the parade. But despite that the demonstrations had been peaceful they had been very quickly forcibly subdued by armed Imperial forces securing the display, regardless of his father’s protests. Their brutal intervention had sparked more protests in the capital and even in the smaller cities of the planet and it had taken weeks for the situation to quiet down. Bail had been ordered to Coruscant to answer personally for the breakdown in order and only narrowly they had escaped the Emperor decreeing to install a permanent military base on their planet then and there.

Ever since, the erstwhile fascinating and later more tedious celebrations had become a much more strained affair. In the years that followed, even weeks before the event, Alderaan had housed a growing number of troopers dedicated to keep order and of the festive atmosphere only choking fear had remained. Luke had come to dread the day instead of enjoying it, but at least then he always had his father by his side.

A heavy hand landed on his shoulder, dragging him from his thoughts and making Luke stiffen. He was pulled a small stumbling step closer to Vader. He must have subconsciously shifted away from him while he had been deep in thoughts. Luke did not try to shake the hand off, knowing it would be a futile attempt, but the feeling of Vader’s large hand so close to his neck made him feel uncomfortable.

Focus, Highness. 

This time Luke was better prepared for it and managed to suppress any outward sign threatening to betray that he had heard Vader speak again in his head. He sounded a lot like Bail had when Luke had drifted off with his thoughts during an official occasion.

Luke threw a sideway glance at Vader, towering next to him looking imposing and menacing as usual, before turning his head ahead again. Maybe this was not so different after all. He wasn’t alone here either and even though he was still very unsure if he should trust Vader, so far his newfound father had more shown care than Luke had thought he was even capable of.

A droid soared closely past them, pulling Luke from his musings. It slowed down in front of Vader and him and Luke recognized it as a variant of a camera droid, its recording unit focused on them. Luke cringed inwardly, feeling even more self conscious than before. This was the whole point of his presence here, to show him off and to put pressure on Bail. Luke took a deep breath, looking back on the troop display instead where the white sea of stormtroopers was giving way to a battalion of black clad pilots.

Luke focused on them, trying to ignore the camera droid still lingering nearby. In another life he might have been one of them, a pilot pulling his craft through hair raising situations, defying odds and gravity. Even now, he couldn’t help but envy them for their so much easier situation, safely hidden in the masses instead of being the one on show.

He bit his lip with a twinge of guilt, wondering what his parents were doing at the moment and how they’d feel once they’d see footage of him here. It wasn‘t that he could have refused to participate in this charade, but he hadn't exactly been pulled here kicking and screaming, still very much Vader‘s co-conspirator. Which made him responsible of putting his parents through this grief. He just hoped that this would have no impact on them or Alderaan as a whole.

Luke suppressed a sigh, feeling dejected. He turned his look back to the parade which seemed never ending. He had no chrono where he could check the time, but it felt like the parade was already dragging on for hours and the masses of soldiers and military equipment filing past them were showing no sign of letting up anytime soon. With a frown he stared at the massive four legged walkers now marching steadily over the vast ground, the clanking and stomping of their massive feet on the concrete drifting over to them. They looked heavy and ponderous in Luke’s opinion, almost ridiculous in their sluggish movements.

I see that ground vehicles do not seem to catch your interest, Highness.

Luke stiffened slightly, but again he managed to avoid a more obvious reaction. He fought a small smile that was threatening to creep into his face, at the heavy sarcasm in Vader’s remark.

No, they don’t. He thought in his head, unsure if he had yet gotten the hang of this form of mental communication.

There may yet be a part of the parade that will interest you.

Luke turned slightly to Vader to look up at him from the corner of his eye. The Dark Lord was staring ahead without giving any sign that he had concerned himself with his charge. Luke heartily doubted that anything could break the uncomfortable boredom that left him all too aware of the eyes from the officers he could feel in his back and the occasional camera droid flying past them. But soon after Vader had spoken in his mind, he could hear a deep roar filling the air followed by the characteristically whine of TIE fighters. Luke turned his head in the direction, instantly interested, just in time to see several squadrons of them soaring in their direction in a tight formation followed by a group of larger bombers.

Despite himself, Luke felt his mood brighten at the sight of the aerial display.

+++

Bail squeezed the hand of his wife lightly. Breha tore her eyes for a moment from the large screen that she had been looking at transfixed, showing an enhanced still frame of Luke and gave him a small encouraging smile, that did not quite reached her eyes. Bail tried to return the smile, but he was not sure how well it had turned out. He turned back to the picture of their son.

This was the first time they could see him since he had been so roughly snatched from their home. Luke looked well enough, considering he had been in Vader’s custody ever since. He merely seemed a little pale, but that could be a result of the dark stiff clothing he had been provided with.

Behind him, never letting Luke move away from his immediate reach, towered Vader. It was ironic that no matter how much the boy was the spitting image of the young Anakin Skywalker, who Bail had first met during his days as Obi-Wan’s padawan, Luke had clearly not inherited his father’s build. He barely reached his shoulder and standing so close to the bulk of Lord Vader made him look even slighter and younger than usual.

The small conference room in the palace was now crowded with an inordinate amount of people, advisors and palace aides mulling over every snippet of footage available showing Luke, trying to find evidence if he was injured or otherwise maltreated. On multiple screens hastily pushed into the room were sequences looping.

Luke was unrestrained, but when he was led to the balcony directly behind Vader he appeared to be closely guarded by stormtroopers. He looked decidedly nervous and uneasy, boxed in between Vader and other Imperials, his guards never far from him. But he seemed to be uninjured, even though it was difficult to judge with his clothes covering most of his body.

Bail ignored the outraged bubbling about the indignity of forcing Luke to wear black, it was inconsequential if only Luke remained unharmed. Throughout the whole troop display Luke stayed where he was, his face stony and his shoulder nearly touching Vader’s arm, so close was he standing to the Dark Lord. From time to time he shifted from one foot to another and with helpess anger Bail could see a black gloved hand land on the boy’s shoulder, pulling him closer whenever his captor deemed that Luke had tried to bring too much distance between them.

The door to the conference room slid open and Captain Antilles stepped through, quickly making his way over to Bail. „Sir,“ he began without preamble. „The Imperial palace has just sent another note urging you to release the statement regarding the prince,” he said silently.

Bail set his face as anger rushed into him. Of course, the Emperor enjoyed making a point here. There was nothing for it. Dangling Luke in front of them could only be the beginning and there was no telling what he might do next if they continued to refuse his demands. Bail rubbed his temples.

“Send out that message his Majesty is so keen on,” he said, his gaze trained on the screen in front of him where Luke was staring up at the sky, a look of longing on his face.

“But Senator, that would be legitimizing this outrageous kidnapping of his Highness.” One of his advisors turned to him, looking shocked. The room fell uncomfortably silence.

“It would, but the life of the prince is more important. I will ask the Emperor to accept my resignation from the senate with immediate effect,” Bail said with certainty, his mind made up.

“But Senator...”

Bail ignored his advisors indignation, not listening to their hasty attempts to sway him from his course. They would not understand why this was necessary, why Luke needed to be removed from Vader’s and the Emperors influence as soon as possible. He had long enough hoped to save his son without taking this step, but it could not be helped. There were others who could continue his work in the senate and beyond, many already dedicated like him to work to a change in the galaxy. In the end it was a small price to pay if he would get Luke back for it.

Over the loud chattering in the room, Bail turned and caught his wife’s gaze, her brown eyes full of fierce determination as she gave him firm nod.

+++

Chapter Text

+++ 

Vader could not deny his own feeling of relief when the shuttle took off from the suffocating atmosphere to take them back into the freedom and vastness only space could provide. He had taken the earliest opportunity to leave from the tedious party that had followed the parade, eager to have Luke back where he could control him better. It had gone as well as he could have expected. Despite his obvious discomfort and annoyance, the boy had held himself well during the whole proceedings and more than once he had sought Vader’s closeness for protection from the constant sneering and glances he had been attracting, no matter where he had turned.

Still it angered Vader to have his son exposed to prying eyes at all. No one had a right to see the boy, least of all the damned viceroy for whose benefit this whole farce had been. The only pleasure he could gain from the thought was, that Organa was probably fuming on his miserable excuse of a planet, having to witness the boy with his rightful father.

Vader closed his eyes as the shuttle was passing through the same turbulences they had experienced upon their descent to the planet. Reaching out through the Force he gauged the prince’s condition, who was again sitting in the back of the shuttle. Predictably he radiated exhaustion, but also the same relief he himself felt, at the prospect to get some peace and quiet at last. This would be a good opportunity to offer him some comfort, gain his trust further so that one day Luke’s loyalty would only lie with him.

A tiny shudder betrayed the moment the shuttle was passing through the Executor’s shields and into the hangar. Vader opened his eyes again and rose, not bothering to acknowledge the salute of the cockpit crew as he made his way into the passenger compartment. Luke looked up at his entrance and rose obediently when Vader gestured him to stand.

The shuttle depressurized and with a gentle push he guided the boy down the passenger ramp and straight toward the exit of the hangar. They had made it half way when they were joined by a uniformed aide.

“My Lord,” he said, inclining his head briefly, looking nervous at having to hold him up. Vader came to a stop, focusing his attention at the man, who turned even paler than he had been before.

“What is it?” Vader snapped, annoyed at the disturbance.

The aide briefly glanced at Luke, who was eyeing him with concern and curiosity, before he turned back to Vader. “The Emperor has called the vessel, my Lord. He commands you to make contact with him.”

The boy sharply turned his gaze to Vader at that, radiating apprehension. He looked like he was about to say something. 

“Very well,” Vader replied curtly, giving Luke a small push forward to deter him from speaking up. He impatiently waved the stormtroopers that had tailed them through the hangar. “Take the prince back to his quarters.”

The troopers stepped up quickly and seized Luke, marching him off at a brisk pace before he could get a word of protest out. Vader focused back on the aide who was following the boy with his eyes.

“Make sure that we can send a clear transmission,” he ordered before he turned on his heel, leaving for his communication suite, not waiting for the man’s stumbled affirmation.

He was careful to bury the thoughts of his treason like he had for so many years, until he was sure his cunning Master would not be able to pick up on them. It had always been crucial to keep his scheming and planning hidden from Palpatine, but now it was more important than ever, his plans unexpectedly furthered with the discovery of his young son.

The holotransmitter gave a muted signal, indicating that the connection was being established. Vader stepped into the projection pad and eased himself down to one knee. He lowered his head as the projector lit up with the grotesquely enlarged image of the Emperor’s face, casting the usual blue tinge of the holo into the room around him. 

“What is thy bidding, my Master?” Vader gave his customary greeting as he had done countless of times before, before raising his head again to face his Master. Palpatine’s features were shadowed by the hood pulled deep.

“Lord Vader, I trust you are able handle your young guest?” his Master enquired in his raspy voice.

“He is just a boy, but he is very much like his father,” Vader replied, carefully choosing his words.

“Ah, yes,” Palpatine cackled, clearly mistaking the disdain that had seeped into Vader’s voice for his passionate dislike of the senator. “Restraint, my friend. You mustn’t harm him yet. For now he is still more useful to us alive, than he is dead.”

Vader bowed his head in acquiescence. “As you command.”

“Everything is proceeding according to my plan. The Viceroy has requested my permission to resign from his post in the Imperial senate.”

A twinge of anger flared in Vader’s heart. That infuriating Organa. The sheer audacity of the man to try anything to reclaim the boy from his rightful father. He fought to keep his rising temper in check as not to give his Master a reason to think he was anymore invested in the prince’s fate, than him being a nuisance. “He wants the boy returned,” he stated, keeping his voice dispassionate.

“Indeed. Organa seems to belabor under the delusion that he can sway me so easily. But he will be much more useful to me if he remains in the senate,” his Master looked extremely pleased with himself “As long as you keep the child under control, his father will do everything to keep him safe. Organa might yet proof to be a valuable asset to the benefit of the Empire.”

“As you wish, Master,” Vader forced out. He released his tightly balled fists, the cold feeling that had claimed his mind easing. “I will ensure the boy remains alive.”

“Good, good.” Sidious grinned in satisfaction, showing his decaying teeth. “Patience, Lord Vader. Once our young friend has outlived his usefulness, you may dispose of him.”

“Thank you, my Master,” Vader forced out, bowing his head. He tightened the shields around his mind to hide his true feelings behind them. It seemed that Luke’s life was in greater danger than he had assumed and he could only hope that the Emperor would not tire of tormenting the Organas too soon.

+++

Luke walked up and down in his living room. He had been tired earlier, glad to have made it through the tedious parade, but now he found himself unable to rest. Vader was speaking to the Emperor and for some reason this made him incredibly nervous. For all he knew this could be a regular occurrence, nothing to do with him or his family, but what if it wasn’t?

Luke stared out the viewport, Carida still floating a good distance away. More worry crept into his stomach. When he had agreed to accompany Vader to the parade he had done his best to ignore what impact his attendance would have on his family, but now he couldn’t stop thinking about it. After all the whole purpose of dragging him in front of the holocameras had been to force his father’s hand.

He turned away from the sight of the planet, annoyed to be kept in the dark. His eyes fell on the small holonet unit installed on a desk in the corner of the room. He had tested it when he had first arrived here and a few times after that when he had been particularly bored, but since the only access he had through it were the Empire’s carefully censored propaganda news he had never had much interest in sifting through it.

Maybe he should give it another go, see if he could find out something. With some apprehension he sat down, letting a search run. It didn’t take long. A small picture of his father, by the looks of it a stock holo taken in the senate a few months ago, made him stop and open the accompanying news piece.

It was only a short text, but it still managed to make Luke’s blood run cold. The brief official statement, issued by the palace in Aldera, explained that Luke had willingly agreed to go into Imperial custody to ensure peace in his sector. It sounded legitimate, but in his opinion, any being with a single brain cell left would know it’s wasn’t. But that didn’t change anything about the feeling of foreboding he felt. What must his parents fear was happening to him, to cave into the Emperor’s demands like that?

Luke turned around, unable to continue to stare at the text. He stared around the small room in search of something, anything really to distract him when his eyes fell on the small air duct in the ceiling. A thought jumping into head. He had tried it before, soon after Vader had first invited him to join him in the hangar, just to see if the erstwhile sealed hatch would open for him too, without Vader knowing. To his surprise then it had opened with only little effort from him. He had been suspicious of it at first, only sticking his head through.

But just a few days ago, one of those times when he had felt like the quarters around him were shrinking to a tiny size and threatening to suffocate him, he had climbed up into it, exploring a bit the maintenance corridors upstairs. He hadn’t dared to stray too far away from the hatch, fearing he might not find his way back again or someone would open the door to his quarters and find him gone, but it had still been a welcoming change to being stuck in the same small set of rooms for weeks.

Luke pulled up a chair form the dining room right under the hatch, his mind made up. He climbed on it and pulled forcefully on the grid. Like the last times it opened without any difficulties. Without a second thought he grasped the edges and pulled himself through. The familiar faintly stale air that swept through these corridors greeted him.

Luke took a look around, but as before the corridor was deserted, not even the small mouse droid in sight, that usually guided him to the hangar where Vader waited for him for a training session. He contemplated for a moment to wander a bit around, but he after the long day on the planet he felt too tired for it. With a small sigh, Luke sank to the floor next to the hatch, pulling his legs up and taking a few deep breaths.

A clattering sounded when his foot hit something metal. In the dim light of the corridor, Luke fumbled around to find the source of it, finding a small loose screw. Absentmindedly he fidgeted with it.

For some reason sitting in the tight and narrow corridor made him feel less restricted and confined than the fairly spacious apartment below and he felt like he could breathe more easily up here, even if the air was undeniably worse than it was in the air and temperature controlled quarters.

Maybe it was that he knew the corridor led away to hangars and stars knew how many places on this vast ship. Or maybe it was merely the fact that for once he was doing what he liked without being controlled and watched. Whatever it was, Luke was determined to make the most of it. Resting his head against the cold durasteel plate behind him, he closed his eyes, some of the nervousness he had felt earlier falling off him. It was almost like taking a walk through the vast gardens of the palace, its many hidden pathways something he had always enjoyed exploring.

A small beeping noise startled Luke from his thoughts and made him look up in alarm. He peered down the corridor from where it had come from. His heart was beating furiously in his throat, fearing he was detected, but he couldn’t see anyone. Luke squinted and in the dark narrow corridor he could finally make out movement of something small, close to the ground. With a deep sigh of relieve he realized it was only a mouse droid. It hovered around the corner, only a small bit of it visible.

“Hello there!” Luke called “Come here little friend. Don't be afraid.”

The small droid slowly came closer until it nudging against his leg.

“You’re alone up here, aren’t you?”

The droid gave a small beep while it continued to try to roll up Luke’s leg and into his lap.

“Just like me then.” Luke took a deep calming breath, the fear of discovery leaving him again. He picked it up and placed it on his lap. The droid continued to beep and roll closer to his chest. Luke bit down a small sob and pulled the little droid into his arms.

For a while he just sat still, the droid tightly pressed into his arms. But it was hard to keep track of time up here and he needed to avoid Vader finding out he had climbed up here without permission. He sat the droid back down, patting it in farewell and eased himself carefully through the small open hatch back into to the apartment.

Luke was about to close the hatch when he spotted the mouse droid rolling around the edge, beeping sadly. For a moment Luke contemplated what he should do, getting the small droid down here could get him into trouble. Then again, he could always sneak him back up in the maintenance corridor later and right now he really could need the company.

He stretched up to pick it up and jumped off the chair. Luke placed the droid on the floor and it zoomed off immediately, making a round of his quarters. He flopped down to the floor watching it, smiling at the merry way the droid was rushing around him.

“The door is always locked, sorry buddy,” he said when the little droid rolled up to the main door, nudging against it. “It only opens when they want something from me.”

The smile vanished from Luke’s face as he too stared at the door. He had only left his quarters a handful of times through that door since he had been first locked up and he suffered no illusions that he would have been allowed outside these rooms even less and for much less pleasant encounters hadn’t Vader found out about him and began meeting him secretly.

“It’s probably better than what you have up there in the maintenance corridors,” he said, trying a small smile and patting the little droids flat top, as it had rolled up back to him.

The droid beeped eagerly, rolling up and down under the airduct. Luke stared up at the hatch longingly, but then shook his head. “I can’t, buddy, but thanks for the offer. Believe me, I wish I could just run from this, but… I can’t.”

Luke threw the screw he had pocketed upstairs and that he was fidgeting with. It bounced off the opposite wall with a metallic clatter and rolled away under the table. The little droid screeched and rushed after the it only to push it back to him. Luke smiled again despite himself. He took it and threw it again. Sure enough, the droid once more sped after it. It reminded Luke of the pet mooka he had when he was a few years younger. He had always loved playing with it.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been playing with the droid, but just as he threw again the little screw in the direction of the door this time it slid open unexpectedly. Luke froze. Vader stood in the open doorway, for a moment taking in the scene in front of him, before he stepped through the doorframe. The droid, which had stopped at the intrusion as well suddenly flew through the air towards Vader’s outstretched hand, the droid’s little wheels turning uselessly. The moment Vader had caught it he pulled of the cover with practiced hands and deactivated it before moving to rip out its inner circuits.

“No!” Luke yelped. He jumped to his feet. “Please, don’t destroy it.”

Vader indeed halted and looked back to Luke, taking in his appearance instead. Luke stared himself down, finding his black outfit covered in dust. With alarm he realized that he had forgotten to cover up the traces of his climb into the maintenance corridor.

“I…” he began, hastily constructing a possible explanation in his head, but Vader raised a hand and Luke broke off, swallowing around an uncomfortable lump in his throat.

“Sit down, Highness, we need to discuss a few things,” Vader said, without commenting on Luke’s appearance and his voice not betraying any anger. Vader placed the mouse droid on a side table and gestured for Luke to sit down on one of the couches. Luke hesitantly complied, watching Vader warily.

Vader was scanning the rest of the room, his mask angling up to survey the hatch. Luke peeked up with baited breath, relieved to see that he had at least thought of closing it again after he had climbed back down. But he was sure that he knew anyway what Luke had done. Vader let his gaze travel through the room, finally fixing his gaze for a moment of the holonet channel, still showing the last headline Luke had pulled up reading in glowing letters the public announcement of the palace in Aldera.

Vader turned back to him. “I trust you have rested a little, Highness?”

Luke nodded, still waiting for Vader’s wrath, but he chose to ignore the evidence 

“You have done very well today.”

Luke blinked briefly, having expected something other than this. Still, he shouldn’t complain that Vader chose not to comment on his little excursion. “What did the Emperor want?” he asked instead.

“He discussed you,” Vader said bluntly, confirming Luke’s fear. Vader seemed to feel his unease at his words. “There is nothing for you to worry about. For now he is satisfied.” Vader gestured toward the holo net access and Luke nodded. “Organa has offered his formal resignation from the senate.”

Luke eyes widened. “What? No! He can’t…” He broke off, feeling even more disheartened. He couldn’t imagine how his father would chose to throw away everything he had worked for for years just because of this. He had known what the Emperor had wanted to achieve with presenting his prisoner, but he had not imagined how big the implications were.

It seemed what he had agreed to had already served to cause damage to his family. Luke bit his lip, feeling guilty. Still, a little flame of hope was flickering in him that this at least meant that he would be able to see his parents again and get away from all this.

“So… then I will be released, right?” he asked, trying to keep his voice neutral and free of the hope rising inside of him.

“No, young one,” Vader replied after a moment’s silence.

Luke stared Vader through wide opened eyes. “But why? You can’t…” he began outraged, but Vader interrupted him.

“It is not my decision, Luke. The Emperor has chosen to deny Organa’s request to resign.”

Luke blinked his eyes in disbelief, his breath catching in his throat for a disbelieving moment in which he thought he must have misheard. “What? This is all that fragging old corpse wanted. To destroy my father and my family. To make sure Bail can no longer speak out against his despicable reign of terror.”

Luke got to his feet, walking up and down agitated. “That evil bastard, he…”

“Calm down, Highness,” Vader said, catching Luke’s arm and pulling him to face him.  He placed a hand on his shoulder, giving him a light squeeze. 

“Why?” Luke asked, unable to keep all of his despair and fear from creeping into his voice.

“The Emperor is pleased with the recent developments. He prefers to keep using Organa, now that he has found a way to control him.”

Luke swallowed heavily. It made terrible sense if the Emperor continued to use him to blackmail his adoptive father, always dangling Luke under his nose whenever Bail would deviate from his twisted demands. This way the Emperor could surely do much more damage than to leave them off the hook. But this also meant, that he was stuck here for good with no prospect of release.

“Do not worry, little Prince. I promise that you will not be here forever.” Vader said one hand brushing gently over his cheek. “I will ensure you stay safe and when the moment comes you will be free again.”

Luke gave a small nod, compelled by Vader’s serious and assuring tone.

+++

Vader placed the deactivated mouse droid on the table in his office, giving it another glance. Luke had clearly climbed into the maintenance corridor without his permission, but he had not chosen to run, just as Vader had expected. It seemed he had been successful in focusing the boy on their common goal. As long as he stayed close to his quarters and remained compliant to Vader’s demands there was no need to punish the boy for it. It would merely serve to antagonize him, something that would set back his plans unnecessary.

His son had proven to be an adept student, willing to learn and quick to grasp the new tasks and exercises Vader challenged him with. And despite the wariness Luke still displayed around him, even when they were alone, he was at times beginning to let his guard down and slowly opening up. He just needed time to win the boy’s trust and he needed to keep him away from the influence of the man who had kidnapped him and filled the boy’s head with lies.

Which made it all the more annoying that the Emperor had sent word that he would allow the senator to speak to the boy, as a reward for his compliance. Organa was cunning, even ready to give up his political authority to retrieve the child in his effort to separate him again from his true father. But Luke was his and his alone and he would share him with anyone nor would he allow that cursed man to influence his young son again. Vader clenched his fist wishing he could crush the Organas, but as long as Luke still felt that undeserved loyalty to them this would destroy his plans to win the boy over for himself.

Yet Vader knew the terms of this call and that helped in calming his temper. Under the set out rules at least any real communication would be impossible between the kidnapper and his son. He was sure it wouldn’t go over well with his son, who if he liked it or not, shared a lot more traits with his true father than merely his potential in the Force.

He could only hope the Emperor’s interest in tormenting Organa would not dissipate too soon, too early for them to strike. He reached out with the Force, searching for the boy’s Force signature among the myriads of lifeforms aboard. Attuned to him as he was it was easy to find the prince, even though his presence was muted and cloudy, indicated the boy had retired to bed, exhausted from the day.

He needed to protect the boy from his master, needed to keep him safe from his sinister plans and the agents his master had surely planted onboard. Before he knew it, his hand had reached for his comlink and activated it. The admiral answered promptly and as professional as usual, his voice barely betraying his unease at his order to tighten security around the prince.

+++

Firmus Piett made his way into the officer’s lounge, crashing into his favorite armchair, his shift finally ended. He couldn’t quite shake his unease at the order to increase patrols around the prince’s quarters. He could only hope that the boy had learned his lesson after his latest unpleasant encounter with Lord Vader and had heeded Piett’s cautions not to set him off again while being down on the planet with him.

Movement from the main door made Piett look up. A bunch of officers had entered, one of them General Veers. Maybe the general would know what had happened planetside. He waved him over and Veers obligingly made his way over to where he sat. The infamous rivalry between the army and navy branches had never managed to hamper their friendship that had already formed when Piett, viewed an outsider by most, had joined the Imperial navy from his former posting.

Veers crashed in the chair opposite him, as he frequently did, looking pleased with himself.

“How did you enjoy your little parade,” Piett asked neutrally.

“I didn’t mind some mingling for a change. But I think the only person who enjoyed it less than Lord Vader was your young protégé,” he answered with a sly smile.

“He’s not my protégé,” Piett replied annoyed, it seemed Veers had an easy time looking through it.

“No? Then why haven’t you shipped him off to Venka?” Veers asked, eyebrows raised.

“What are you implying?” he hissed back, irritated.

“Relax, Firmus,” the general said in a voice only he could hear, raising his hands. “It’s just that some have talked about it, wondering about it more precisely.”

Piett gave him a sour smile. He should have known. “I just feel sorry for the kid.”

“I can understand why you like him, he’s a tough one. And he sure has perfected that bored polite face of politicians,” Veers leaned back, making himself more comfortable. “Any leads on how he got his hands on that uniform yet?”

Piett made and annoyed face. “So now everyone knows about it?”

Veers shrugged nonchalantly. “You know how these things go around. Your investigation whirled up a lot of dust. Do you really believe the boy was about to break out with inside help?”

“I don’t know, how would he have procured a uniform otherwise? But so far there is no evidence any of the crewmen questioned was involved in it. Lord Vader insisted the boy knows nothing about it after he was done with him,” Piett said, guilt seeping into his voice. Veers seemed to have picked up on it.

“You think he’s holding a grudge against you because of it? If he doesn’t like someone, believe me, you’d know.”

“What do you mean?”

“The Governor of Alderaan attended the party, slimy git. He taunted him and I thought the kid would jump at him,” Veers grinned. “Probably better for him that he didn’t. Maybe I was wrong about him. He’s much less sedate than he thought he would be considering who his father is.”

“I can imagine,” Piett smiled dryly.

+++

Chapter Text

+++

Luke closed his eyes, delving back into the calming, ever present folds of the Force. They always lingered at the edges of his awareness, never quite leaving him, even when he wasn’t paying attention to them. And they responded eagerly at his call. Drawing on them was much easier and more natural to him now, than it had been in his first lessons. He focused on the whispering tendrils, tuning out the distractions around him with.

He let the Force first fill him and then he reached out with it, like Vader had taught him to. He let it brush over his surroundings. Like this he was just as aware of what was around him as he had been with open eyes. He could feel the dueling salle around him, the firm training mat he was kneeling on, the droids stored switched off in the corner behind him and the dominating presence of Lord Vader, seated cross-legged just a few steps away from him, his form like a thick black cloud impossible to penetrate.

Luke gathered his concentration, tearing himself away from the swirling black mass. He needed to focus on his task or he would fail again. Just like he had every time he had tried before and the consequences were something he didn’t want to suffer.

For what felt like hours Vader had been drilling him on how to shield his mind against the intrusion from other Force users. But so far he hadn’t managed to repel Vader’s attacks even once. Again and again Vader had broken with ease through the defenses Luke was trying to put up, each time succeeding in prying some cringe-worthy childhood memories from his mind. And each time Vader had taken the time to ask pointed questions, mocking him for the mortification he felt at Vader diving into his least happy memories.

The vague instructions he had received didn’t help either. Luke was beginning to wonder if Vader was actually less interested in teaching him how to succeed, but enjoying himself too much in upsetting and humiliating him. Yet he had no choice but to trust Vader. Cooperating with him was his only chance to help his family and ultimately himself. Even if that trust came exceedingly difficult like it did today.

Pushing away his apprehensiveness as best as he could, Luke focused to gather the folds of the Force as close around his mind as he could, wrapping himself in it. In his mind, he tried to picture them as indestructible, insurmountable walls protecting his memories. When he was ready he gave a small nod, without opening his eyes, knowing Vader would see the signal anyway.

Sure enough, just seconds later he could feel the by now familiar prying and probing. He scrunched his eyes, doubling his efforts to keep Vader’s spying mind out. For a while he succeeded, but just as before he couldn’t withstand Vader for long before his shields were swept away by a tidal wave of seemingly invincible power.

Despite his struggle, Luke’s mind dragged him back into his memories. Colorful images flashed in front of his eyes until it manifested itself on one particular memory, as Vader sifted through his mind. He could see himself scolded in his father’s hangar bay, next to Bail’s horrible scratched speeder and with many onlookers, some bemused but most openly disapproving.

He could remember the incident very well. It had happened shortly after his twelfth birthday. He had secretly taken Bail’s speeder despite his father having explicitly forbidden him to do so. Stupidly he had thought back then that he could pilot anything with ease. For weeks he had begged his father to let him fly his speeder for his birthday, but Bail had insisted that he was still too young.

In retrospect he should have listened his father. But, of course, he hadn’t. His little jaunt had ended even before he had managed to reverse the speeder from its parking position and out of the hangar bay with an unfortunate crash in the opposite hangar wall.

“Stop,” Luke shouted. Hot embarrassment was flushing his face red and his concentration slipped entirely. Vader stopped indeed, Luke could feel his dominating presence fade from his mind and the memory dissolved. Luke opened his eyes to bestow an annoyed glare at Vader. “You promised me you wouldn’t read my mind,” he said reproachful.

“I would not be able to do so if you were properly shielding, young one,” the Vader replied with a hint of humor in his voice, not even bothering to deny what he was doing. “You are making this too easy.”

Luke glared in annoyance. How was he supposed to keep up his shields against Vader’s skills?

“It seems that your piloting skills leave something to be desired,” Vader commented dryly at the memory he had just managed to steal from him.

The hotness in his face that had just faded a little, returned in full force. He wished Vader wouldn’t just sift through his mind in search of his worst memories and even less that he’d then proceed to grill him about them.

“I have learned it since,” he replied sourly. “I can pilot anything.” Piloting was the one thing in the galaxy that he loved to do and he didn’t want his father to think he was bad at it. “And I do not see how this is supposed to help me.”

“You need to learn. It is of the utmost importance that you master this skill or you will fall prey to the Emperor. And I promise you that he has no qualms to sift through your mind as he pleases.”

“You haven’t told me how,” Luke returned annoyed. With the vague instructions he had received, he would never be able to defend himself against Vader’s skills. Still, the thought of the Emperor being able to read his thoughts was undeniably more terrifying than Vader rummaging through his embarrassing childhood memories.

“I have told you all you need to know. Yet you are failing to concentrate properly.” Vader returned with a mocking tone in his mechanic voice. “Well then, we will try this again. Let me see what else you hide, Highness.”

Luke scowled, anger rising inside of him. Vader seemed to be enjoying Luke’s chagrin at his inability to protect his embarrassing memories. He wanted to retort something, but he could already feel Vader’s presence closing in on his mind and his feeble shields. He hurried himself to concentrate on defending his thoughts from the attack.

For a short while he thought he had managed to keep Vader’s forceful probe out. But in that moment his earlier concentration slipped. Another memory swam to the surface as he could feel Vader’s powerful probe breach his meek defenses. With horror Luke recognized this particular one.

It hadn’t been too long ago. He had tried to slip a girl that attended the same music lessons, one of the few subjects he was taught together with others his age and not alone with his tutors, a small note to ask her out. He had goggled at her for weeks, too shy to approach her until he had finally taken a heart.

But in the last moment nerves had gotten the better of him and he had tried to abort his mission. Yet he hadn’t managed before he had been spotted by the girl and her friends. If he thought back to the moment, he could still hear their giggling, as he had fled from the classroom.

No! He would not let Vader see this particular memory. He hadn't told anyone about it and the thought of Vader sneeringly question him about it was too much to take. Vader had no right to do this. He snarled, red, hot anger washing over him. He threw out his hand and his mind with all the strength he could muster to defend himself.

Miraculously he could feel Vader’s presence fade from his mind, but he didn’t stop there. The Force was singing to him, egging him on and he doubled his efforts, pushing out with all the strength he could muster.

In rapid succession snippets of memories that weren’t his own flooded Luke’s mind, materializing and disappearing in a disorientating frenzy. Most were gone too fast for Luke to truly make out what they showed, but some lingered for the fraction of a second, enough for him to grasp them. He could see a desert. Barren, yellow sand as far as as the eyes could see. A crammed, dusty shop full of engine parts and other equipment. A kind faced woman in grey rags bending down smiling.

“Enough!”

The shout cut through the rush in Luke’s ears and the flurry of images stopped. Luke blinked in shock. He looked up to the seated form of Vader still just a few feet from him, Luke’s hands still stretched out at him. The temperature around them seemed to have dropped considerably and Luke suppressed a shudder. What had he just done?

He must have finally succeeded in repelling Vader’s probe and instead had managed to break into his father’s mind. Luke looked at him in fearful silence, expecting Vader to retaliate for this intrusion. Yet nothing came.

“Very good, Luke,” Vader said, his voice betraying no ire. “You have made appreciable progress today. Yet you need to learn to summon such concentration at all times. You have much better control if you utilize your anger.”

“Do you want me to try again?” Luke asked cautiously.

“No, that will do for today,” Vader said, rising swiftly to his feet. Luke clambered to his feet as well, stretching his legs, that were numb from sitting cross-legged on the floor mat for so long. “There is something else I need to discuss with you.”

Luke frowned, but Vader chose not to elaborate immediately. He turned around and strode with long steps from the training room. Luke tailed him through Vader’s quarters to the entrance. He stopped a few steps away from Vader when he came to a halt.

It was rare that they met here, so openly in Vader’s quarters. Luke was wondering why Vader had chosen this place over their usually training in the secrecy of the small hangar bay where no one would be any the wiser that Vader and his prisoner were seeing each other much more often than they should.

“The Emperor has decreed that you may speak with Organa,” Vader said. “In a few days a holo call will be set up.”

Luke gaped at this unexpected statement. It took him a few heartbeats to process what he had heard.

“Really?” he asked, unable to keep the surge of happiness and elation he felt at the prospect of being able to talk to Bail from his voice. How long had he wished for an opportunity to speak with his adoptive father, even just to see him?

Vader stared him down silently for a moment, disapproval hanging heavily between them. Luke clapped his mouth shut, fearing that his joy and enthusiasm would offend Vader. He needed to avoid Vader using his influence with the Emperor and taking care this this small mercy would be called off after all.

“Yes,” Vader replied after an uncomfortable silence, his voice clipped and terse. “I should not need to remind you that you cannot share anything with him what we have discussed, Highness.” Vader said in the same tone. “You will not be unwatched during the call. That is something you should keep in mind both for your own sake and if you wish to keep your kidnapper safe as well.”

Luke threw Vader a reproachful look, which he ignored as usual. Not once when they met could Vader stop himself from abusing Bail and it always left a bitter taste with Luke. It was an unwelcome, constant reminder that Vader had far from forgotten his initial rage at the supposed kidnapping he accused his adoptive father of. Luke hoped that Vader would eventually forget, or at least forgive what crimes he thought Bail had committed, which Luke was sure had been different from what Vader had said.

Luke nodded quickly, to make sure Vader knew he understood of the importance of keeping their secret as not to spoil his chances to speak to Bail. Vader seemed satisfied for now, calling in a stormtrooper escort to take him back to his own quarters and turning his back on him without another word.

Luke did his best to stop himself from smiling on the way back. It had been too long since he had last spoke to his adoptive father.

+++

Junior Lieutenant Tovar Vern walked slowly down the corridor leading to the techs sleeping quarters. He was tired beyond belief. His shift should have ended many hours ago. Vern wasn't even sure how long exactly, but his scheduled sleep cycle was surely already half over before he had even made it to his bunk. He had never managed to finish his shift though. Instead he had been snatched away from his post by a grim looking senior officer and some bulky stormtroopers that had delivered him straight to a rather crammed meeting room.

His superior had been there with a stern and disapproving look on his face, but what had caused Vern much more worry had been the two noncom officers, who looked like they had come straight from the detention level. Without preamble they had started questioning him about his every move basically since he had set foot on the Executor for the first time. They presented lists upon list of all his time logs and even every single procurement order he had ever filed aboard.

Vern had sweated a lot during these hours. As an Alderaanian he was used to get occasionally mocked both by fellow crewmen and commanding officers for his homeworld’s well known pacifist philosophy. He had chosen to ignore the injustice he knew he would face, from the day he had signed up with the Imperial Navy, to pursue his career ambitions regardless. Alderaan was part of the Empire and growing up with tales of the Clone Wars that had devastated the galaxy for years he had never imagined any other job but one that could help protect the peace throughout the galaxy.

Yet he had never dreamed that his loyalty would fall into question solely because of his background. Even though nothing had been said directly, his interrogators had heavily implied that he was under special scrutiny.

He had been asked about his latest contacts to his family and homeworld and even more cryptically he had been extensively questioned about his connections to the royal house of Alderaan of which of course he had none. The only time he would see either the Queen or the Senator or really anyone of the royal family was on public holonet announcements during festivities or the like. He had never been particularly interested in any of the gossip surrounding them.

He had answered each and every of the interrogators’ questions. Hours later they had finally let him go, but not before cautioning him once more that he should be careful to not let his loyalty fall into any greater doubt or he would face a preemptive and decidedly prolonged stay in the brig. Vern had clenched his teeth at that, swallowing his anger at the accusation. He had never done anything wrong.

Vern sighed tiredly, stopping in the dimly lit corridor just outside the bunkroom he shared with three other crewmen. He was about to press the release button to finally get some much-needed sleep, when a hand sneaked around his face and pressed down tightly on his lips. Vern’s eyes widened in shock and he thrashed until he heard a voice whisper. “Shhh, it’s me.”

Even though it had only been a quiet whisper, Vern recognized the voice of his friend Lan Corwin immediately, a fellow tech allocated to another team. He relaxed and the hand withdrew. Vern turned around to face him. Corwin too hailed from Alderaan and over that they had bonded quickly. He was a few years older and had been in service longer. His advice on how to deal with snarky comments had been helpful, especially when he had struggled to settle in on the Executor, his first assignment after graduating from the academy.

Vern opened his mouth to question his friend’s presence in this corridor at this time of the sleep cycle both of them had to follow, but Corwin quickly put his forefinger to his lips, gesturing him to follow him.

Vern was too tired for this, but the urgency in his friend’s eyes, even visible in the dark hallway, made him follow him regardless. Besides, it probably would be good to vent about the injustice he had just been submitted to, so far the biggest of his admittedly still short military career.

Corwin swiftly and quietly moved down the hall and opened the door to the tiny maintenance room at the very end of it of the hall, making Vern frown. He followed and the other closed the door behind them. Inside it was even darker than outside and it took him a moment to realize that another figure was huddled in the small room.

Behind him Corwin switched on a small portable lamp casting a little more light into the darkened room. In the better light Vern looked again at the other man, wearing an off-duty uniform, but he did not recognize him.

He turned around to Corwin to ask him what this furtive meeting was supposed to be. The dire warnings from the interrogators should he continue to give them reason to doubt his loyalty was still ringing in his ears. But before he could say something, Corwin beat him to it.

“Did they put you through the wringer?” he asked quietly.

Vern blinked in dismay, he had hoped this particular incident would not make the round quite that quickly. “How’d you know?” he asked back with a low voice.

“They got me, too,” Corwin answered with a sour look on his face. “Him too,” he nodded over to the man sitting on the bench.

“What? But why?”

The other man answered. “We have one thing in common.” He sounded quite bitter. At Vern’s puzzled look he elaborated. “We’re all from Alderaan. Dox is the name, I’m in ComScan,” he said. “I warned Corwin. He wanted to give you a head up too, but they got to you first by the looks of it.”

Vern frowned. So, all of them had been interrogated because they were from Alderaan? “What’s going on?” he asked the room at large. “I have no idea what they were even on about. They checked trough my logs and files and asked me a bunch of questions, but they never even told me what they were looking for.”

“Did they ask you about Prince Luke?”

“What? No, why would-“ Vern began, but he stopped short a moment later, remembering that odd part of his questioning. “They did ask me if I had any connections to the royal family. Like everyone from Alderaan would know them…,” he huffed disparagingly, but he broke off when he saw the other two exchange meaningful looks.

“Can you please tell me what is going on?” he asked again with a twinge of annoyance.

“Luke Organa is here,” Corwin answered with a grave expression on his face.

Vern blinked puzzled for a moment. “What do you mean ‘here’?”

“Here, aboard this vessel.”

Vern frowned in disbelief, while it was rare enough for an ordinary Alderaanian to pick a career with the Imperial military and it was pretty much unthinkable for a member of the royal house, never mind for the only child of the queen and the viceroy.

“Bantha shit. Why would the prince be here?” he asked.

“He’s kept prisoner aboard,” Dox threw in and Vern turned to stare at him with raised eyebrows.

“How would you know that?”

“Well, a short while ago there was a massive exercise, the one Ozzel messed up,” he began.

Vern nodded impatiently. He was sure everyone aboard the Executor had heard of the demise of the widely disliked Admiral by now. And the story had incorporated in more and more colorful ways, so that Vern would not be surprised by the time the story had reached the lowest decks it included at the very least a preceding knife fight and a more dramatic finish than Ozzel merely getting strangled by Lord Vader for his obvious incompetence.

“I wasn’t on bridge duty, but some of my team were,” the guy called Dox continued. “They told me Vader was not the only one on the bridge to oversee the exercise, but he brought someone else, a prisoner of his.”

“And why would that be Prince Luke?” Vern retorted irritated. This whole story made no sense. “It could have been anybody, just some random guy he wanted to intimidate.”

“Ah, so I didn't care at first either. But today my team was ordered to prepare and set up a heavily encrypted holo call to Alderaan. No, no hear me out,” Dox quickly interjected when Vern opened his mouth again to interject that that was hardly any proof. “It struck me as odd, so I did some research on the holonet myself. A few days ago, the Organa family has officially announced that the Prince is basically under Lord Vader’s protection. That’s of course utter rubbish, why would he need that,” Dox finished, nodding determinately to Corwin.

“When Dox told me about it, I did some digging as well,” Corwin said. “A while ago they started to pull out everyone in the crew from Alderaan for questioning, granted we’re not many, but still enough for it to be suspicious. When they got to me they grilled me about my search log and I tried to get something out of them in turn. So, I straight up asked, if the prince is aboard. They wouldn't confirm nor deny, instead they told me that I should be very careful with what I say and do.”

“But… but that doesn't mean anything,” Vern threw in, his mind reeling. This couldn't be the reason for the mill he had been just pulled through, could it?

“Pretty sure it does,” Dox said. “We’re sure he was captured and brought aboard to blackmail his father.”

“And if he is, then we have to rescue him,” Corwin stated with conviction. “But we need your help.”

“Are you mad? It’s not like they don’t have us under close scrutiny already!” Vern shot back.

He looked at the others, staring back at him determined.

“Will you help us or not?” Corwin asked.

“You can’t be considering that. Do you know what would happen if they catch you?”

“All we need from you is a little assistance, something to slice into the systems to find out if we’re right.”

“You are mad,” Vern shook his head. “You can’t be serious.”

“No one will notice it. You’ll be fine,” Corwin said, patting his back. “Are you in, or not?”

Vern bit his lip. This was madness. He should stay away from it, as far as he possibly could. Actually, what he should do was turn them in, anything short of that would be considered treason. But he couldn't do that. Never. And he couldn't just leave his friend hanging either could he? At least this way he could make sure they would be as inconspicuous as possible.

“Fine, I can help you with that. But nothing more. And you shouldn't be doing anything else either.”

“Thanks buddy,” Corwin said. “I knew you would do the right thing.”

+++

Chapter Text

+++

Luke stared at his own reflection in the mirror with dismay and worry. For the past days he had been looking forward to the day when he would finally be able to speak with Bail. The call had been scheduled, postponed and rescheduled a few times until now, but today was to be the day.

Even Vader’s warning that he would be monitored throughout and needed to be careful about what he said couldn’t take away bubbling excitement he felt at seeing his adoptive father again.

The last time they had spoken had been on the fateful day when Vader had dragged him from his home. It would be a relief to just be able to see him after spending so much time in this hostile place. Maybe he’d even be able to make Bail understand that he was well and in no immediate danger through carefully placed hints.

In his high spirits he had even agreed to the condition to have his hair cut prior to the call which had turned out to be a mistake. Granted, his blond locks had grown a bit messy in the weeks since he had been brought aboard and a haircut had been in order. But instead of a small trim that Luke had requested, the barber had shorn his hair much shorter than he liked. In his opinion, it now resembled way too much the stern, no-nonsense military regulation fuzz most of the men aboard were sporting.

Luke dragged his hand through his hair in an effort to mess it up a little, watching his reflection critically. Like this he was looking much like an Imperial and he was sure that this had been the intention all along. It left him worried what his father would say at his new appearance, the cropped hair and dark clothing, that made him look like he had readily embraced all that his father so much despised.

But not even this could lessen his excitement.

By the time he heard a sharp knock on his door Luke was already prepared to go. Walking between the troopers he tried his best to smother his elation, but the mere prospect of seeing Bail any minute now made this endeavor near impossible.

He was ushered into a small darkened room. Luke could make out some imperials scattered around the room that was centered around a large holo transceiver, the only thing in it that was properly lit. Luke looked around, but Vader was nowhere in sight. Instead a stern looking officer approached him. He brusquely pushed a datapad into Luke’s hand.

“Familiarize yourself with the content. As soon as the connection stands, you will read out the exact wording and nothing else,” he said curtly.

“What?” Luke stared in confusion at the datapad, a short text displayed on it. He blinked when understanding slipped home that he won’t just not have no privacy throughout the call, but he wouldn’t even be able to say what he wanted. “I won’t,” he said, appalled.

The officer regarded him with a thin, cold smirk. “You will do it or you will be returned to your quarters now, Prince. That is entirely your choice.”

Luke scowled. But despite his anger he didn’t want to spoil the chance to see his adoptive father. He lifted the datapad to read through the text.

“I thought so,” the man sneered. “If you think you can violate these rules, the call will be terminated immediately and you will face consequences, making you regret your disobedience.”

Luke bit on his tongue. He tried to concentrate on the text, but with every word he read he grew more disgusted by it. It was pure propaganda, a crude attempt to make him an accomplice in threatening Bail into submission.

He shouldn’t do it. He needed to make a decision fast, but before he could make up his mind a ready sound chimed from the com unit.

“Sir, the connection has been established,” someone from the back of the room called out.

“Good, get him up there,” the man ordered, waving dismissively.

The troopers flanking him pushed Luke forward rather roughly and into the reception field. He wanted to protest, but the holo flickered already. Luke tried to collect himself as best as he could to give Bail no impression that anything was amiss. But much too soon the holo in front of him lit up with an almost life-sized image of his adoptive father and for a long moment Luke was merely lost for words.

Father.

Bail was smiling warmly at him, not batting an eye at Luke’s new appearance. He looked much as he had when they had last seen each other in person, but on a second glance he seemed tired, dark circles lining his eyes and he was sporting more grey hair than Luke remembered on his temples and in his beard. 

“I am very happy to see you, my son,” Bail said when Luke failed to bring out any sound.

His familiar, fond voice shook Luke from his momentary stupor. He forced himself to smile back and swallowed down the lump that had formed in his throat. He took a deep breath, when he was distracted by a sharp movement from outside the pickup field. The officer sharply gestured at him, pointing at the datapad in his hand. Luke glared at the man, his own smile freezing. He turned his gaze back to Bail who seemed to have noticed Luke’s brief side glance, looking decidedly more worried.

Shakily Luke lifted the datapad up to his face to read the first sentence. He needed to avoid that Bail would feel any worse about his situation. It was bad enough that his father had already had offered to throw away his life’s work to free him. Maybe Luke could still make him know between the lines that he was well and capable to handle this situation himself even if that meant that he had to read out this disgusting text.

“I am well and in a good health, father,” he began, once again trying a small smile. “I am treated appropriately at all times.”

Bail nodded encouragingly, once more smiling at him even if that smile didn’t quite manage to reach his dark brown eyes. “That is good to hear. I am glad to know that you are well.”

Luke grasped his hand around the datapad so tightly his knuckles started to turn white. He hated being so docile and tame, carrying out everything that was demanded of him. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t doing anything to alleviate his father’s fear, to make sure he would continue to stand up against the Emperor and his plans.

Luke’s eyes flickered cautiously to the Imperials watching him. He wondered if they would notice if he slipped anything in between the written lines. The officer was still fixing him with a cold stare, his hands resting over the panel controlling the holo suite. Luke needed to say something or this call would end very fast. He looked back on the datapad, lifting it a little higher to make sure Bail would notice it and know that he wasn’t saying these things out of conviction. He read the next line, swallowing the bitter taste on his tongue.

“I… I urge you to follow the Emperor’s guidance to avoid bringing further shame on our family and your office,” he pressed out, his eyes fixed on the datapad to avoid looking at Bail, feeling ashamed of himself for saying this. More hot anger seeped into his stomach.

Luke raised his eyes, meeting Bail’s gaze with difficulty. But what he had said hadn’t wiped away Bail’s smile. He nodded again.

“I understand, Luke. I want you to know that your mother and I won’t do anything that would put you in danger. Remember that,” he replied with a firm voice.

Luke felt grateful that Bail wasn’t upset that he was playing along so obediently with the Imperials even if that meant he was insulting him.

“Where are you at the moment,” Bail asked, when Luke again failed to say anything.

“I’m ab…,” Luke started, but he was quickly interrupted by a sharp signal from the imperial officer.

“You try this again and the call will be terminated immediately,” his watchdog warned him. Luke glowered at him, but any angry retort stuck in his throat. “Now read the text, Highness.”

Luke tore his gaze from the man and looked back to Bail. He looked even more worried. Luke was sure he had again realized that a short exchange had taken place. He looked back at the datapad to continue reading, trying hard to suppress the anger in his stomach. He stared at the text, but the letters were swimming in front of his eyes as angry tears formed in the corner of his eyes. His father didn’t deserve this. Determination amalgamated in him. This would stop now. He took a deep breath.

“I am fine, father! Do not let them intimidate you into stopping your work just because I am here. I can take care of -”

But in that moment the holographic image of Bail distorted and Luke was roughly seized by armored hands and dragged backward off the reception field. He could see Bail’s shocked face, he shouted something but no audio was coming through, the line already muted. A blink later then the picture of his father flickered out.

Luke gaped in shocked disbelief, but then the officer stepped up to him and he tore his eyes away from the spot Bail had been visible to face the man. The officer’s face was contorted with rage as he regarded Luke.

“Lord Vader will hear about this,” he spat. He waved sharply at the troopers still holding Luke. “Take him away.”

Luke was whisked out of the room and unceremoniously marched down the hall. His head was still buzzing by the time he was shoved through the door into his quarters.

“Lord Vader will deal with you soon enough,” one of the soldiers promised, before the door closed behind him. Luke let his back fall against it and slid down on the floor, all remaining energy and fight sapped.

All he could think about was Bail’s worried face when the call had been cut. His attempt to reassure his adoptive father had backfired and now Bail surely was even more worried than he had been before. Once again they hadn’t even been able to say goodbye to each other.

Luke pulled his legs up, burying his face in his knees. Sobs shook through his body until he was no longer able to fight back the tears welling up in his eyes.

+++

With long steps Vader strode down the hall, feeling deeply satisfied. The call between the boy and the cursed viceroy had lasted less than a few minutes. Just as Vader had expected, Luke had not managed to abide by the set-out rules for longer than half a paragraph of the propaganda pamphlet he had been made to read out.

He had carefully watched and re-watched the footage of the call, to see if there was need to manipulate it before sending it on to Coruscant as ordered by his Master, but Luke had been sensible enough not to betray any of their plans. Maybe he had been interrupted too early for that but Vader was inclined to believe that Luke was growing loyal enough as not to betray Vader's confidence.

It had been barely sufferable to hear Organa having the gall to still call Luke his son and Luke in turn addressing the man that had abducted him and barred him from his rightful place in the galaxy, father. One day Luke would accept the truth and disown Organa, turning instead to him.

When Vader approached his son’s quarters it was already well into the night cycle aboard. He waited patiently for the posted guards of the late shift to unlock the door for him. The room beyond was dark, illuminated only by dim glow panels set into the wall close to the deck plating giving off the usual nighttime light. Luke clearly hadn’t bothered to turn on any further lighting.

But he needed no light to find the boy in the darkened room. Luke's force signature was brightly shining. It was a good thing that the Executor’s assignments kept them far away from Coruscant and the Emperor’s prying Force senses. By the time they’d turn coreward he would have to make sure that Luke was better at concealing his presence or his Master would pick up on them sooner than they could take action.

Following the prompting of the boy’s presence he easily spotted the small figure huddled against the large viewport, legs pulled up and arms hugged around his knees. Vader strode across the space between them. Luke seemed oblivious to his entrance. Only when he stood right next to him he reacted, flinching in surprise at finding him so close. The boy quickly turned away from him, wiping his face on his sleeves before he rose to his feet.

He kept his eyes stubbornly glued to the floor, averting his eyes and trying his best to hide his puffy and tearstained face from his father. But he didn’t resist when Vader took hold of his shoulders, pulling him away from the viewport. He let himself be steered without complaining into the middle of the room.

So far everything was proceeding as planned. It was unfortunate how attached the prince remained to his foster parents, but with time he would renounce them and instead turn to him. Vader studied his face as Luke turned to him. Luke stared up at him, looking unhappy. His piercing blue eyes, usually so curious and eager, were still filled with raw emotion.

“I understand this has not been easy for you, Highness,” Vader said, breaking the quiet and giving Luke’s shoulders a small squeeze.

+++

Luke felt increasingly uncomfortable under the close scrutiny. Vader surely thought he was weak, that he had let those games affect him this much. He had warned him beforehand that he should be cautious about the opportunity to speak to Bail and Luke had ignored it. Now he understood what Vader had meant. He shouldn’t have let his hopes and expectations get so high, but it had been hard, so hard, not to be excited. He half had feared that Vader would scold him or even punish him like the imperials had threatened he would. Now Luke was merely relieved at Vader’s presence. It was comforting to know that he wasn’t entirely alone here.

“I have something for you, Highness,” Vader said.

Luke looked up, frowning. Vader produced a small, lengthy box, holding it out for Luke to take it.

“What is it?” he asked, confused by this rapid change of topic.

“You may consider it… a gift.”

Luke’s frown deepened. Despite feeling much more relaxed around Vader, he found it hard to picture the Dark Lord as a doting parent, handing out gifts. Luke took the box and opened it, looking inside. In it was a slim black and silver metal tube and for a moment he only blinked at it in surprise, his eyes widening.

“Is that… a lightsaber?” he couldn't hide the excitement in his voice. He trailed his fingers around over the hilt, feeling the cool metal.

“It is,” Vader confirmed. “It will be yours to train with until you are able to construct your own.”

Luke took the hilt and turned it over in his hands. It was heavier than he had thought but well balanced. Vader stepped behind him and placed his hands over Luke’s correcting his grip on the sleek and smooth metal until his fingers were firmly grasping it, his thumb resting on the activation toggle.

Vader released him and took a step back and Luke lifted the weapon slightly, his heart rate picking up with excitement and anticipation. He had always loved the tales of the Jedi, seen holos of them wielding their lightsabers, such symbolic and powerful weapons, and had secretly wished he could do that too, dive into battle to defend and protect the ones he loved.

With baited breath he pressed the switch. The lightsaber ignited with sharp hiss, its blade extending in front of him, casting the room in a cool blue color.

“You are ready to learn how to wield it, Luke.”

+++

Luke rushed through the maintenance corridors. The moment Vader had left his quarters he had climbed through the hatch, itching to try out the lightsaber dangling from his belt. His excitement quickened his pace and he wasn’t surprised that he arrived in the hangar that they usually met in before Vader had made it here.

Standing in the cavernous hangar, Luke closely studied the hilt of the lightsaber in his hand. He was itching to turn it on, to try it out. Luke snapped the saber on and held it aloft in front of him, once more marveling at the feeling of absolute power and strength radiating from the blade.

But gazing into the icy blue light of the blade a thought hit him and his elation vanished in an instance. This was wrong. It was one thing to learn to master the Force, but it was something entirely different to pick up a weapon. What would Bail think of him, if he could see him now? Would he still look so kindly on him if he knew how easily he was selling out their principles and values? If he knew how he betrayed everything his father stood up for by collaborating with Vader himself? What would anyone from Alderaan think of their prince standing in an imperial warship brandishing a blade, blatantly stomping on their tradition?

With a sinking feeling, Luke lowered the blade again. He switched it off. No, he couldn’t do this. The hangar bay doors opened and Luke winced. How was he supposed to convince Vader that he wouldn’t let Vader teach him how to use a lightsaber. He watched as Vader strode through the hangar, black cape billowing behind him.

Vader stopped some distance away and beckoned him. “Come over here, young one. I will teach you some basics.”

Luke took a few hesitant steps toward him, but stayed a cautious distance. He gathered his courage. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

Vader didn’t say anything. He merely stared down on him, time dragging.

“I shouldn’t be holding a weapon, it is… not proper,” he continued to break the uncomfortable silence that dragged between them, avoiding Vader’s gaze. Instead he stared at the silver hilt in his hand. “Our tradition forbids to fight and-

Vader rounded on him swiftly and Luke stiffened, trying to prepare himself for the argument that was sure to follow. Vader straightened and clasped his hands behind his back.

“I see that Organa has drummed his hypocritical message well into you.”

Luke thought it better not to retort anything. Bail remained a very touchy subject with Vader that rarely failed to ignite his father’s anger.

Vader stared at him and Luke did his best to hold his ground.

“You vowed to do as I say,” he finally said.

Luke froze at the cold voice. “I have done everything you asked of me,“ he said defensively.

“You have,” Vader replied. “And will I continue to keep my promise as long as you continue to keep yours.”

Vader took a few steps closer to him, placing a heavy hand on his shoulder. “You are in great danger, Luke,” he said, his voice sounding much softer. “You have to learn how to defend yourself and the ones you love or you will lose them. Besides you are not bound to any of their traditions alone. Embrace your true destiny. Search your feelings and you will know it to be true. It is in your blood, your birthright.”

Luke weighed Vader’s words. He couldn’t deny the truth in them. He knew what danger was coming and he knew he had to stop it, would stop it. He had promised it to himself in the long dark hours of night more than once that he would not let the Emperor carry out his sinister plans for the galaxy. And it was true, he was no more of Alderaanian descent than Vader himself.

“I have never been very good at being passive. I was told more than once that I am far too belligerent for my heritage, but then it is not public knowledge I am not the true born heir of Alderaan,” he said, a small sad smile on his lips. “I suppose I share more than that particular trait with you,” he said carefully staring at the hilt in his hands. 

From the corner of his eyes, Luke could see Vader regard him. “Not just me, son,” he said finally. “Your mother had a fierce temper and great passion herself.” 

Luke looked up at Vader in surprise. So far Vader had never mentioned his mother and he hadn’t dared to raise the subject himself. “Can you tell me about her?” he asked hopefully.

Vader looked at him, considering his request. “I will answer your questions, but not today,” he said eventually. “Now you need to learn to master the weapon in your hand.

Luke nodded, trying to hide his disappointment. He swallowed his earlier qualms, gripping the lightsaber a bit tighter. Vader was right, if he wanted to protect his family and his people from what he knew was coming he needed to learn how to fight.

“Very well then,” Vader said. He took a few steps back and with one swift movement reached for his own lightsaber, dangling from his belt. He ignited it. Luke eyed him with some fear and awe. The red of the lightsaber deflecting in the many facets of Vader's helmet starkly setting them off against the black. It gave him an even more dangerous air than usual.

Vader swung the lightsaber in a few swift and precise arches and Luke took an involuntary step back, eyeing the blood red shimmering blade. Somehow the its sounded a lot more bloodthirsty than the blue one he held in his hand. For a breathless moment Luke feared that Vader would expect him to hold his own against him in a duel. But it seemed his fears were unfounded.

“I will show you some basic moves for you to practice.” Vader announced, falling into a ready stance. “You will follow my moves.”

Luke gave a firm nod, relieved that they wouldn’t duel at least for now. He ignited the blue lightsaber, mimicking Vader’s posture. As Vader moved through a simple sequence of movements, he tried to follow though he was sure his own performance was looking a lot less graceful and powerful. Vader however seemed unperturbed.

“Good. Now close your eyes and reach for the Force. Let it flow through you and the saber. Feel the blade, let it become an extension of you, a part of you."

Luke frowned, but diverted his attention from the glowing blade in his hands, instead reaching for the calming folds of the Force. It was hard to imagine how their peaceful touch could assist him in fighting. Pulling the them close to him he felt his senses enhanced as usual.

He opened his eyes again. Vader motioned him to repeat the same sequence again. Luke did so, focusing back on the blade, it's deadly noise now seemed to almost vibrate through his body and soul. He listened to its hum changing with every twist and turn of the saber and the sound of his feet shuffling over the polished floor. He didn’t need to ask Vader if he was doing it correctly, he simply could tell with certainty that he was doing it right. It felt right.

For a while Luke continued, with each repeat growing more confident. This felt great, familiar, like he had never done anything else in his life.

Lost in watching the tip of his lightsaber cutting through the air Luke was unprepared at the sudden flash of red light charging at him. Vader had swung his lightsaber at him, forcefully pushing him back. Luke took a stumbling step back before he managed to find his balance and counter. Their blades were locked for a long moment and Luke’s adrenaline spiked, heart pumping fast.

“You were too focused on yourself, young one,” Vader remarked easily. He pulled back and switched off his red glowing lightsaber, hanging it back on his belt. “Never let your surroundings out of sight. You need to exercise constant vigilance.”

Luke bit his lip, annoyed that Vader had managed to get him there. He fell back into his stance, beginning anew this time staying aware and alert of his surroundings and where Vader was, promising himself not to let Vader sneak up on him like this again.

By the time Vader called the lesson and sent him back to his quarters, commending Luke for his progress, he was quite out of breath, but very pleased with himself after having gone through his motions faster and faster with increasing ease.

+++

Chapter Text

+++

Since he had started to learn how to wield a lightsaber, Luke had been training whenever he could. The memory of his adoptive father’s shocked look when their holo call had been ended was still haunting him. It had driven renewed purposed and a clear goal into him. He’d finally be able to stop the Emperor from going after his family and the rest of the galaxy. Yet his motivation never seemed to quite reach the level of Vader’s impatience to teach him and Luke continued to struggle to meet his father’s exacting standards.

Luke couldn’t deny that this made him uneasy at times. He had been often lying awake for hours, thinking how Vader might just be using him. How he could turn him into a tool that he needed to further his own plans to seize power for himself and then his to discard him once he had lost his usefulness.

How could he ensure Vader would stand by his word to dismantle that infernal battle station looming over Luke’s mind like a dark shadow, instead of using it himself? And how could he stop his newfound father from attacking his adoptive parents, whom he seemed to hate with frightening passion, never passing up an opportunity to threaten and curse Bail.

Yet Vader had, since he had found out about their relationship, done everything to protect him. He might be a fearsome ally, but he was his father and in the end Luke had resolved to let go of his doubts and trust Vader.

Luke stepped into the middle of his quarter’s living room. To make a little space he had pushed the sparse furniture as far to the sides as he dared without raising uncomfortable questions. He closed his eyes and delved into the calming folds of the Force.

He brought his hands together as if holding the hilt of a lightsaber, imagining the solid hilt gripped tightly in his hand and the blade extending a good five feet from him. It was harder like this without having the real lightsaber to practice, but Vader had deemed it too dangerous for him to have the weapon when he was alone. Luke wasn't sure if it was because Luke could use it to escape or if it was solely because it could be found during a search, as Vader claimed. It might well be a bit of both.

It might not be the same as holding a saber, but if he concentrated enough on the mental image of the weapon, he could almost hear the low hum of the blade in his mind. Stretching out with the Force he could feel the room around him, the furniture and walls restricting his space almost as clear on his mind as if he had his eyes open.

With quick, nimble steps Luke fell into the lightsaber form his father had taught him. First slowly, but progressively getting faster with each repeat he moved through the form. His muscles flexed and his eyes pressed shut in his effort to focus on his task. He let his feet glide over the floor in the precise way he had been shown, his arms swinging the imaginary blade.

Luke broke off with a start when he heard a sharp knock on the door, catching his breath from the exercise. Luke did a quick check to the wall mounted chrono and frowned. It was too early in the afternoon for the regular delivery of his dinner and Vader had not told him that he wished to meet him today. The door to his rooms hissed open.

In the door, a drab-clad officer stood, accompanied by a stormtrooper. “Your Highness?” he asked, giving him a quick once over.

“What is it?”

The man exchanged a brief look with the trooper next to him, before straightening his back. “You need to come with us, Highness,” he ordered curtly.

Luke’s frown deepened at the brisk tone. It had been a while since he had last been summoned by Vader in such a way, but he knew by now that he had nothing to gain from resisting them. He slowly made his way to the door, giving the two a look of utmost disdain to cover his feeling of unease that had forced itself into his stomach.

+++ 

Torvar Vern had never doubted that the formation of the Empire replacing the Republic had been a good thing. Defending democracy was a noble cause, but the Republic had failed its citizens. It had become complacent and in many places openly corrupt, no longer striving to better the lives of its citizen but rather the lives of those in power. Then the civil war with the Separatists. A collection of disenfranchised systems that had sought to improve things by breaking with the old system to govern independently, had left hundreds of planets devastated and cost the lives of millions upon millions of beings, uprooting even more.

With the founding of the Empire, peace had returned. Granted, it was a tightly controlled peace and much of the corruption had remained, but it was peace nevertheless. In the past sixteen years since Palpatine had declared the Empire many worlds had been able to recover from the destruction they had suffered.

Even though the Clone Wars had never reached his homeworld, Vern had grown up with tales of the destruction it had caused. He felt that it should fall upon everyone to protect this still fragile peace, so he had joined the military to do his small bit for the galaxy, even if his career choice put him at odds with the stance the vast majority of his homeworld’s population.

He had never second guessed his decision to sign up with the navy. Not until now. Senator Organa’s criticism of the Empire’s military spending and expansion policy was well known, but he could have never dreamed that the Empire would stoop to kidnap a child in order to silence the father, however outspoken or influential he might be.

Yet despite the blatant injustice, Vern wasn’t sure why he had let his friend talk him into this stupid and dangerous undertaking. But here he was, aiding in the breakout of a prominent prisoner.

He followed Corwin down the corridor, forcibly stopping himself from nestling at the uncomfortable white armor he was wearing. Corwin marched confidently in his stolen uniform. Even weeks of meticulous preparation couldn't put his mind at ease at the magnitude of what they were about to do. They had long since passed the line of being able to make believable excuses for their actions and secretly Vern was surprised that they hadn't been busted yet.

Since their first clandestine meeting where Vern had let himself be dragged into this crazy rescue against his better judgement and despite the dire warnings each of them had been given during their interrogations, they had spent every opportunity to find out anything they could about that enigmatic prisoner kept aboard. Vern had remained skeptical, but even he had to admit in the end that there could be no further doubt. Luke Organa was aboard.

Once they had affirmed this, Corwin and Dox had dived into preparation on how they could free the young prince, dragging Vern into it as well.

Procuring the disguises had been ridiculously easy. During his monthly routine check in the Supply division, Vern had managed to gain access to the work terminal unseen. The risk of discovery was low. Supply consisted mainly of droid workers with rather unoriginal programming. They mainly ignored all humans they encountered unless ordered to fetch and deliver supplies and they certainly didn’t question his procurement orders. And the few humans working in the ships vast Supply depots weren’t exactly posted there for their overzealousness and abundance of wit, not even on the navy’s flagship.

The rank plaque now brazenly attached to Corwin’s chest had been harder to get by comparison. This wasn’t something they simply could order. But Dox had proven to possess real nerves of steel, stealing one from a uniform jacket hanging for a moment unattended on a chair in the mess.

They turned around a corner, entering the corridor leading up to the state quarters in which they assumed the prince to be held. Located high up in the Executor’s command tower, these were designed to accommodate high ranking officials that did not fall into the Imperial military structures, should any of them choose to pay a visit to this vessel. Not that such a visit was very likely with Vader residing on the ship, notorious for his short temper with conceited dignitaries.

But the quarters seemed occupied anyway, the door halfway down the hall guarded by two stormtroopers. At Vern and Corwin’s approach they turned, their hands were moving automatically to their blasters.

“Hold it right there!”

Vern's steps faltered, his heart dropping. It seemed their little charade wasn't working even for a minute. But Corwin forged on, unperturbed. He stepped closer.

“We have orders to take the prisoner to Lord Vader,” he stated boldly, shoving all their chips into the pot. 

“I know of no such orders,” one of the stromtroopers replied. They seemed unbothered by his bossy tones, hands still hovering over their blaster.

“I have them right here.” Corwin smartly produced a datapad, handing it to the nearest trooper. The man stretched his hand out to take it. The moment he touched it, Corwin activated the stun stick he had hidden underneath. The trooper fell almost instantaneously. His colleague pulled out the blaster, but once again Corwin was faster. The element of surprise on his side, he managed to jab the stick into the second stormtrooper’s side before the man could fire his blaster. He sagged to the ground with a cut-off groan. 

Vern stared at the scene in front of him, wishing with every fiber of his being that he'd have never agreed to this suicidal endeavor.

“Don't stand there gawping. Help me!” Corwin whispered sharply from where he was crouching next to the downed men. “Remember what we discussed.”

Vern shook himself from his stupor. There was no going back now. He stepped up to help his friend. With a combined effort, they dragged both unconscious troopers down the corridor and into one of the tiny maintenance cupboards that lined most hallways aboard in regular intervals. This way no accidentally passing patrol would find anything amiss, at least not on first sight. What would happen when anyone chose to investigate deeper into why the door leading to the rooms that almost certainly housed the prince was no longer guarded, Vern rather didn't want to think about.

Corwin was already back at the door to the state quarters, investigating the lock protecting it. He shook his head. “No way we can crack this in a reasonable timeframe,” he said when Vern came closer.

Vern nodded. This wasn’t unexpected. They had assumed the door’s locks would be well secured, but they were Tech and knew probably better than anyone else that every mechanism had its weakness. Vern switched the blaster he had taken from one of the troopers to full power and shot twice at the bulkhead plating next to the door, blasting a hole into it. The lock itself might rival detention level security, but the walls up here, far away from the brig were much easier to overcome. Through the smoking hole he could see the wiring.

Corwin nervously checked the corridor to both sides, but despite the noise they had made no one was in sight. He crouched down and grasped with one hand for the wires, pulling out nd cutting the ones feeding power to the locking mechanism. He rose, one hand reaching for the door release.

“No, wait," Vern said urgently. Corwin raised his eyebrows at him. 

“You can't back out now!”

“I didn't mean to. But don’t you think we should knock?"

Corwin frowned but then raised his hand knocking sharply on the door. They waited a moment, exchanging a look. Corwin nodded determinately and Vern donned the helmet again. He reached for the door release. The door slid to the side with a smooth swish. In the room beyond the only occupant was eyeing them apprehensively.

Vern had studied the few holos they had managed to procure, through sliced code lines as to not raise any alarms. Seeing him live was different, but it was impossible to mistake the boy for someone else. The same blue eyes, the same light blonde hair and features. It was Prince Luke.

Next to him Corwin seemed just as stunned as himself, maybe he had hoped despite all their information that they were somehow wrong after all. But he gathered himself and put on his best annoyed face to cover his surprise.

The prince seemed uneasy at their appearance, but he came quietly at Corwin’s demand, who led the way. They had beforehand decided that it was too risky to fill in the boy in their plan. Best to get him safely and quickly to the hangar where Dox was waiting for them with the vessel they had chosen to get away with.

Vern used the opportunity and glanced at the prince curiously. Up close he looked younger than in the pictures. He felt for the kid. If their information was correct, the boy had been aboard for weeks and weeks already and it appeared to Vern that this wasn’t the first time he had been fetched in such a manner.

The piercing eyes of the prince darted to him. It should have been impossible for the boy to meet Vern’s eyes through the helmet, yet he managed with unsettling accuracy. Vern looked away quickly. The boy seemed to think something was up and he needed to avoid giving him any reason to doubt that anything was out of the ordinary. They hadn’t had to keep up the charade for long.

+++

They took another sharp turn and Luke was pushed into a turbolift by his escort. He watched from the corner of his eyes the uniformed man pushing the buttons operating the lift. Luke’s feeling of unease had increased every step of the way, something nagging at the back of his mind. He still struggled to keep his orientation onboard whenever he was outside his quarters, but he was sure that this was not the way to his father’s quarters which he knew were a few levels above his own. Instead they were headed down and judging by the feeling of vertigo in his stomach they were going down fast many levels.

Luke drew on the Force like his father had taught him. He carefully reached for the mind of the man. He was instantly taken aback by the tangled mess of emotions he sensed. He could feel nervousness and agitation, but also a strong sense of determination. He turned his attention to the stormtrooper right next to him, whose armored hands never left Luke’s shoulders, finding his mind to be in the same state of convoluted feelings. That was decidedly odd. Luke had tried out gently probing others aboard whenever he had the chance to test this new learned ability and never before had he felt anything like this.

Something about this whole situation wasn’t right. If Vader hadn’t ordered them to fetch him for some training in his quarters, then where were they taking him and why? Whatever the reason, the feeling that he should get away from them kept nagging him with rising urgency. The turbolift doors opened again and he was shoved forward. The large corridor beyond was eerily empty.

“Where are you taking me,” Luke demanded, putting all his royal irritation into his voice to cover the nervousness creeping into his voice.

The uniformed man threw him a quick glance. The grip of the stormtrooper’s hands on his shoulders tightened and he was pushed on more forcefully. Neither of them bothered to answer him. The uneasiness in Luke’s stomach manifested into actual fear. He dug in his feet at the next turn, but he couldn’t slow down their progress through the next hallway.

Halfway down the corridor they came to an abrupt halt. Luke was about to question his escort about it, when he heard people moving ahead of them. A patrol passed at the far end of the corridor and the two Imperials seemed anxious to avoid getting noticed. Yes, something definitely wasn’t right about this. Luke hesitated for a moment then he made up his mind. This was his chance to get someone else’s attention. He took a breath, ready to yell, but he could even get a word out when the trooper pressed a hand down on his mouth, stifling any protest.

Luke struggled against it, but it alerted the officer. Together they pushed him into a nook, holding him pinned. Luke's mind was running in circles, this was bad. Ahead of them the patrol passed through, not noticing his fight. He was running out of options fast. Maybe he could use his mental link to Vader to alert his father. But when he tried to concentrate on the bond they shared he failed to bring up the necessary concentration to even connect with the Force.

The moment the patrol was out of sight the two pushed him on. He continued to struggle but to no avail. A hand still pressed on his mouth, he was whisked around another corner and through a door.

“Let me g…” Luke wheezed out when the trooper’s hand on his mouth slipped for a moment, but it was back in an instant. With his other arm he held Luke pinned.

“Silence him,” uniformed man hissed urgently. He stood in the door, peeking down the corridor to both sides. Then he turned around closing the blast door. The officer drew a blaster and fired on the key pad, destroying it. Luke stiffened when the man turned to face him.

“Now no one should disturb us,” he said. “Let him go.” He waved sharply at the trooper who promptly released Luke.

Luke wasted no time to bring a few steps distance between them. Not that it would help him much. He was still alone and trapped here with two armed men, whose intention to bring him here he’d rather not find out. Luke eyed the officer warily. He half expected him to raise his blaster to kill him here and now.

When he took a step closer to him, Luke retreated another step. He threw a hasty look around, hoping to find something, anything really defend himself. They were in a hangar, a number of shuttles sitting in a neat line off to the far side. The man looked surprised. He holstered the blaster, raising his hands.

“I am deeply sorry for alarming you, your Highness,” he said. “This is a rescue. We have secured a shuttle to take you to a safe location.”

Luke blinked, for a moment not quite comprehending what he just had heard. “What?”

The stormtrooper took off his helmet. He looked a lot younger than Luke had expected, he couldn’t be much older than mid-twenties. His hair stuck to his sweaty forehead.

“We can get you out of here,” he said. “We are from Alderaan, too.”

A rescue. Finally it sunk in. Luke suppressed a nervous giggle at the absurdity of it. He didn't need rescuing, he wasn't in real danger from Vader. But of course it must seem this way to them, and who could blame them for thinking it.

But the relief he felt was short lived, when a horrible sense of foreboding crept back into his stomach. He might be safe, but he was sure that his would-be-rescuers if they were discovered here, trying to rescue him were in a very real danger. He needed to prevent this. 

“I can’t leave. You have to take me back,” he blurted out.

Both of them were staring at him wide eyed, taken aback by his refusal to leave captivity.

“It’s impossible to turn back now, Highness,” the trooper said. “We need to get you to safety, before anyone finds us here.”

“Y-you are Luke Organa?” the officer asked.

Luke’s head spun. He needed to think up something fast. He couldn’t leave, not when he knew that somewhere in this galaxy the Emperor was building a space station to destroy his homeworld. Not when he could do something about it. But how to explain it to them, to convince them to take him back to his quarters before anyone noticed his absence. Blast it, where even was he. They had taken so many turns and he hadn’t paid enough attention to them to be sure to find his own way back.

They were eying him suspiciously. He needed to say something. “Yeah, but I can’t leave. Please, you have to take me back.”

“What do you mean, you are being kept here against your will?”

Luke winced at the accusatory tone in the man’s voice. His reluctance to leave captivity was surely suspicious, but he couldn’t possibly tell them the truth. He should better have a good explanation for it.

“Yes, but… you don’t understand, it’s dangerous, for my family, for Alderaan. If I leave then…”

But he didn’t finish the sentence. The man no longer paid him any attention. Instead he stared over his shoulder, dark eyes widen in surprise, then narrow with grim determination.

Luke could feel a chilling cold seeping into the air around him. Behind him, Luke could make out the faint noise of heavy mechanical breathing.

“No…”

+++

Chapter Text

 +++

Luke whirled around. In the same door he had just been pushed through, the unmistakable form of Lord Vader stood. The blood red lightsaber was ignited, its distant hum promising death. Luke took a stumbling step as his rescuer grasped the front of his tunic and pulled him behind his back.

“Run, Highness, I’ll cover for you.” He gave Luke a forceful push. “Get into the last shuttle in the row. Quick.”

The man whipped out his blaster, pointing it at Vader. A rapid burst of blaster fire broke from the barrel. Breath catching in his throat, Luke watched as the barrage flew in the direction of his father. But to Luke’s relief it didn’t hit its mark. Vader brought up his blade in the last moment. The shots bounced off his lightsaber, ricocheting through the air back at them.

Luke stood frozen in place, unable to move in time. But split seconds before the blasts could hit him, an unseen force hit him squarely in the chest, ripping him off his feet. Luke landed sprawled on the floor and the deadly bolts of energy sizzled over his head. Standing above him his rescuer hissed in pain, hit by one of the repelled shots in the shoulder. But it didn’t stop him from releasing another salvo of fire, and from behind them his comrade opened fire as well.

Luke clutched his chest, aching where Vader had landed his blow. A stifled moan behind him made Luke look back in time to see the young man in the stormtrooper armor sag to the ground, hit by a bolt sent back from Vader with deadly precision. Luke stared, a nauseous feeling spreading in his stomach. The stormtrooper was lying unmoving where he had fallen to the deck.

Movement at the far side of the hangar caught his attention. Another man came rushing from the parked shuttles toward them, intending to aid his companions. It startled Luke from his shocked stupor. He struggled back to his feet, still dragging in labored breaths against protesting ribs. He had to do something. Vader would kill them all, if he didn’t stop him. He needed to move, he needed to step in, he just needed to help and prevent this from happening. Unthinkingly he dashed past the man trying to shield him, ignoring his shocked yell for Luke to take cover, to run and hide. But Luke paid him no attention as he was focused on Vader, his hands outstretched in a vain attempt to stop him.

“No, please don’t! Leave them. It’s not-” he called out, half way to where Vader stood.

But that was about as far as he made it. Vader stretched out his hand and Luke was sent flying through the air again, this time launched by the Force toward him. He landed hard, hitting his head on the deck. He skidded a few meters further dragged by Vader’s hold in the Force on him, coming to rest at the Dark Lord’s feet. Luke blinked, his breath driven from his lungs for the second time in short succession and for a beat he saw stars. He hadn’t recovered his senses yet, when Vader caught his arm. Luke gasped in pain as Vader wrenching him up and whisked him around.

“No, please, fath-” Luke heaved out, but Vader pressed a gloved hand down over Luke’s mouth, stifling any further sound. Vader pulled him into an unyielding headlock. The red lightsaber whirled in front of Luke, so close that he involuntarily flinched. The others had stopped firing the moment Luke had rushed into the line of fire, clearly fearing to hit him instead of Vader.

Vader threw out the hand holding the lightsaber and the newly arrived man was thrown back, hitting the hull of the nearest shuttle with a sickening thud. The lifeless body slumped to the ground at the foot of the space craft, leaving a bloody trail on the surface of the shuttle.

Luke struggled, fingers frantically tugging at Vader’s arm. His desperate plea for Vader to stop came out muffled by the hand still clamped over his mouth, incoherent even to his own ears. So he had to as watch helpless as Vader’s deadly attention focused on the last remaining rescuer. 

The man still had his blaster raised, trying to find a way to help Luke and eying them uncertainly. But he didn’t dare to fire. With a sharp movement of his free hand, Vader used the Force to rip the weapon from the startled man’s grasp.

The now unarmed man still would not back down. He hesitated briefly then rushed at Vader, his face determined. But a few steps away from them his progress was stopped. The man’s hands flew to his throat. He gasped and gurgled, fighting for air. He clawed at the collar of his uniform in a futile attempt to tear the invisible Force strangling him away from his neck, his lips turning a dangerous bluish tint.

Luke doubled his efforts to break free from Vader’s hold, his legs kicking ineffectually against his shins. He pried at the fingers gagging him. Tears were forming unbidden in his eyes as the man sagged to his knees his silent look of entreaty fixed on Luke.

Behind them, Luke could hear the clatter of heavy boots, announcing the arrival of stormtroopers. Vader let the man go and he fell to his knees, dragging in labored breaths. Vader shifted his hold on Luke and shoved him aside into the approaching soldiers. Luke almost lost his footing, barely catching his balance to avoid falling face first to the ground.

“Secure him,” he could hear Vader’s bass growl.

Luke was seized roughly by armored hands and frog marched off at a brisk pace. Luke twisted against their grip and craned his neck to get a glimpse of Vader. Vader had turned back to the man on the ground still gasping for air. He seized him by his collar, pulling him up as if he weighed nothing until he dangled in his grasp dangling a foot off the floor, face contorted in pain.

“No, stop-“ Luke tried to dig in his heels as they reached the hangar bay exit and received a painful cuff to his head for his trouble. The last thing Luke could see, before he was hauled around the corner, was Vader throwing the man dismissively to the side like a ragdoll. He then turned to an approaching officer, not bothering to look Luke’s way oblivious to Luke's plight, or simply not caring.

Angry tears swam in his eyes and blurring his vision. But even so he noticed that the corridors outside that had been nearly empty on his way here, where now swarming with troopers. Luke couldn’t help but wonder if this was all due to his supposed escape. 

Standing in a crammed turbolift squeezed in between the hulking forms of the stormtroopers, Luke felt almost claustrophobic. He wished they would soon arrive and leave him alone in the solitude of his quarters, so he could finally clear the buzz in his head again.

But when he was pushed from the turbolift, Luke found himself in a small command room instead. This sure wasn’t any place on the ship he had seen before and most definitely not the way leading to his quarters. And Luke didn’t like this place at all. With a growing sense of foreboding he eyed his surroundings. The dark, bare bulkheads were only illuminated by dim glowpanels set into the wall, surveillance devices poking from the bulkheads.

The force field that had separated them from the room was deactivated and his guards pushed him forward into the command center manned by black clad officers, who were watching their approach with cool interest. Behind them Luke could see a low, dimly lit corridor, by red glowbanks set in the walls near to the ground. 

The moment they had stepped through, the force field reactivated, it’s low hum sending a cold chill through Luke. He gritted his teeth to face the officer approaching that stepped up to him. The man was at least a head taller than him and he sneered down on him, studying Luke’s frightened face.

“He’s the prisoner?” he huffed dismissively, then nodded to his colleagues with a grin. “He doesn’t look like much, does he?” 

Luke narrowed his eyes on him. Anger welled up in him at the man’s condescending tone and it temporarily eclipsed the upset and fear he felt. He was shoved forward into a corner of the detention center control room next to the control panels. The officer in charge waved one of the others forward, who produced a scanning device, holding it out to Luke. 

Luke glowered. He shook indignantly his shoulder to dislodge the hands on his shoulders, holding him still. A move he instantly regretted. The man’s cold smile vanished in an instance and a heartbeat later Luke found himself slammed into the wall face first, rough hands keeping him pinned.

“Very well, princeling. If you want we can do this the hard way. Search him.”

Luke gritted his teeth. The officer resumed his scan, taking extra time to roughly prod him with the device into his side. It gave a sharp beep when he held it to Luke’s collar.

“What have we here?” he scoffed. With a quick grasp he reached for Luke’s neck where the small silver pendant his mother had given him hung hidden under his tunic. A sharp tug and it came loose. The officer threw it carelessly onto the control station where it landed with a loud clatter.

Luke could feel his temper rise in him. “Give that back,” he hissed.

“Silence,” the man bellowed and Luke was thrust again into the wall. He bent down to him until his face was only inches from Luke’s. “Who do you think you are? You think yourself special with your fancy titles and money? I’ve got news for you, boy. You’re just another prisoner passing through my brig.”

He grinned into Luke’s face, challenging him to speak up again. Luke glared, but he bit on his tongue to stop himself from retorting anything, sure it would not end well for him if he did. The cold eyes remained fixed on Luke’s for another long moment.

“Good, make Lord Vader’s valued guest comfortable,” the man finally sneered, taking a step back.

Luke was marched down the dark corridor behind another officer leading the way, his arms twisted painfully behind his back. At the end of the narrow hallway the man keyed in a code into a control panel swiped a security chip. A door next to them opened with a hiss. Luke couldn’t make out any features in the room beyond, before he was already flung through the door with enough force to trip him down the two steps.

The door slid shut behind him faster than he could turn around. Luke was shaking with anger and fear.

+++

The alarm had reached him during a routine handover of the bridge watch to Captain Venka. All commands were placed on alert not just on this vessel but also on the other Star Destroyers that made up Black Squadron. They had strict orders to contain any ship or escape pod or whatever else might leave the Executor’s hangar bays until the alarm was rescinded and the prince recaptured and secured.

Piett stepped with firm steps into the hangar bay, trying to project a confidence he hardly felt. He swiftly made his way over to Lord Vader who towered over a the head of security kneeling in front of him. Piett came to attention next to him. He stared ahead, trying his best to ignore the scene in front of him. The man on the floor stumbled out apologies for the security breach in between laboriously dragged in breaths.

Vader taking his time killing him, letting him off to get more answers out of him only to resume strangling him when he had gasped out more than a few words.

“You have failed me for the last time,” he said, sealing the man’s fate.

“My lord... ack- please-“

With a sickening crack the man’s neck snapped and he slumped to the deck. Piett winced. He froze when Vader rounded on him and forced himself to remain standing where he was despite the urge in him to bolt. This might very well be it. Vader was angrier than he had seen him in a long time. The prince and those aiding him had made it dangerously far to leaving the Executor aboard a hyperspace worthy shuttle and ultimately it was his responsibility that the prince remained contained. He should have pushed that responsibility to Captain Venka after all, Piett thought. 

“Admiral,” Vader snapped and Piett took a step forward, hoping that he his voice wouldn’t betray his fear.

“My lord,” he forced out, satisfied that his voice came out steady.

“Find out how exactly this has happened and report directly to me. I want everyone who had a hand in this brought to me.”

Piett swallowed heavily. “Yes, my lord.”

“And remove every single traitor from that Force-forsaken planet off this ship or I will kill every last of them personally. You would do well to ensure something like this will not happen ever again or next time I will hold you directly responsible.”

Piett’s voice failed him, but he managed a nod. Vader didn’t seemed interested in any response from him anyway. He turned sharply and left, black cloak billowing out behind him. 

Piett took a deep breath to collect himself, marveling at the fact that he was still able to breath at all. He had never come this close to get choked by Vader himself. He scanned the hangar. A large number of stormtroopers where busy clearing up the operation, several men lay dead on the floor and Piett was wondering how many had been involved in trying to free the boy. But the boy himself was nowhere to be seen.

“Where is the prince?” he asked, turning to the waiting officers waiting for his guidance in tense silence.

“Detention block, sir. High security,” someone supplied.

He should have guessed as much. Piett pressed his lips together in dismay. But now was not the time to ponder the boy's predicament. It was in the prince’s best interest to resolve this situation fast. The deputy head of security handed him a datapad. Piett skimmed over it, it detailed the day’s duty rosters who were supposed to keep the hostage contained. Best not to ponder their fate either.

Piett straightened up and gathered himself. Very well, you heard Lord Vader. Identify those who did this. I want to know how deep this infiltration went and how this escape has been so nearly successful.”

+++ 

Luke paced the small bare cell as he had done for the better part of the time since he was left alone in it. He was exhausted, but every time he tried to settle down onto the narrow metal bench set into the dull grey bulkheads the fight in the hangar would start lapsing in front of his eyes.

It was the second time he had seen Vader truly unleash his Force powers. The second time Luke had seen him kill someone right in front of his eyes in cold blood and this time despite his desperate plea to leave the men. Everything was clear to him now. The three men hadn't been there on orders or because they wished harm on him. They had been compatriots trying to help him, risking everything to save him and losing their lives because of him.

Exhausted Luke sank down on the bench, wrapping his arms around him. He shivered. The dark bare walls of durasteel around him, barely illuminated by the dim glow panels in floor and ceiling seemed to emanate coldness. Despite his upset, Luke was wishing dearly Vader would finally come to pick him up and release him from this nightmare. He had lost all sense of time in hear, no noise getting to him from any human being, only a deep, dull thrum that permeated the whole cell and that Luke was sure was coming from the Executor’s engines.

But as before, even this short moment of rest brought pictures of how Vader throttled and killed the last, taking his time with him, unbidden to the surface of his mind. Impotent fury rose in him once more. Why hadn’t Vader listened to him, surely he must have understood that Luke needed him to stop.

The door to his cell opened, startling him from his thoughts. He looked up. The small entrance was completely blocked by the huge bulk of Vader. Vader stepped through the small door and it hissed shut right behind him, sealing tightly leaving them alone.

Luke let go of his legs and rose rapidly to his feet, relieved that Vader had finally come to get him out of this cold and dreadful cell.

“You were foolish to think that your plan to escape would succeed,” Vader said, his voice tight with barely suppressed anger. “You will give me the names of your conspirators. Now.”

Luke’s brain stuttered to a halt and anything he had wanted to say stuck in his throat. “What? No! I didn’t-,” he stammered, taken by surprise by Vader’s accusation. “I didn’t even know they were trying to rescue me. I don’t know-”

Vader took another step closer to him. Involuntarily Luke followed suit, now truly backed into the corner, his shoulders hitting the wall. In a beat Vader’s hand snatched out and grasped his neck, holding him pinned against the durasteel plates. Luke stood petrified, eyes wide open. He felt the Force around him coil at the cold and stifling rage emanating from Vader.

“Do not lie to me.” Vader’s voice was a deep, dangerous growl. “Do you think I would forgive you such betrayal?”

 “I didn’t-,“ Luke began again, but he broke off when Vader’s fingers around his neck tightened. It wasn’t quite enough to truly cut off his air, but enough to make him afraid. Luke’s brain involuntarily dragged him back to Ozzel’s demise and he wondered if he would now die the same way. Any protest stuck in his throat. Vader placed his other hand on his forehead. Luke gasped as sharp, stabbing pain that flared up in his head. With creeping fear in his stomach, Luke recognized Vader’s intentions.

“No, stop-” 

Luke desperately drew on what Vader had taught him about shielding, trying to block Vader’s rough mind probe. But to no avail. The headache blinded him and he could see rapidly flashing images dancing in his mind, too fast to focus on them. Vader sifted through his brain, ripping from it what he wanted.

Luke grasped Vader’s hand on his temple and pulling at the gloved fingers. “Please, stop!”

Vader indeed stopped, releasing him and the pain behind his forehead eased a little. He straightened up and took a step back, towering above him.

“You promised you wouldn’t read my mind,” Luke protested weakly, rubbing his throat where the feeling of Vader’s hand still lingered uncomfortably.

“You are mine and I will do with you as I see fit,” Vader replied coldly.

Luke narrowed his eyes. He could feel his temper slipping away from him, an angry rush in his ears replacing the pounding heartbeat. “You,” he hissed, hands balled into fist and shaking at his side. “You have no right over me, murderer!”

“That is enough.” Vader’s voice was taking a dangerous edge, but Luke didn’t care.

“You knew they were just trying to help and that I wasn’t about to leave. You knew it and you still murdered them.” 

“Watch your tongue, Luke.”

“Leave me alone,” Luke snapped.

Vader took step closer to Luke, cornering him again. “You may be my son but I will not tolerate your insolence.”

“I said leave!”

Before Luke could even fully register the movement, Vader brought up his arm. A harsh backhand blow hit Luke, whipping his face to the side with enough power to make him stagger into the bulkhead. Vader struck him again and Luke gasped in pain.

Vader’ lashed out again, this time his hand balled to a tight fist. Luke raised his arm to cover himself, ducking away and tersely awaiting the next blow. But it never came. Instead Vader grasped his collar again, holding him pinned against the wall. 

“I suggest you consider very carefully what you say next,” he said coldly. Luke shivered as he felt like the temperature around him was dropping. Genuine fear was paralyzing him. He bit his tongue, not daring to say anything.

Vader stared down on him. The hand firmly still gripped into the front of Luke’s tunic tightened.  “I am not done with you yet”, he threatened. “You would do well to remember appropriate respect or you will face consequences.”

Finally he let him go and turned to leave. Without stopping in the door, Vader swept from the cell. The door slid shut behind him and Luke was alone once more.

Luke’s cheek stung painfully and he was shaking. Tears were welling up in his eyes and his heart was pounding in his chest, as Luke sank back down on the metal slab that served as a bench.

+++

Chapter Text

+++

Firmus Piett was still unsure how he had survived the nerve-wracking aftermath of the so nearly successful escape of the prince. He certainly had been luckier than a lot of others. Lord Vader had personally executed every single guard that had been on watch duty around the boy’s quarters, even though security footage suggested that they couldn't quite have seen it coming. 

Yet it seemed to have barely appeased his murderous wrath. Piett was still trying to keep the many division commanders from throwing each other under the speeder-bike in a bid to come out of the murderous purge alive where every small mistake could be the last.

Each and every crewer hailing from Alderaan had been hastily reassigned from the vessels of Death Squadron to posts across the galaxy to save them from Vader's wrath. Even if that had meant letting go if a good portion of their more accomplished medics and until they could find suitable replacements, the medbays of the Judicator and the Devastator would be groaning under severe understaffing.

Vader's anger hadn't spared the prince either. Vader had interrogated the boy himself and Piett found himself hoping that this time the outcome had been less harmful to the boy. Piett felt uncomfortable at the thought. Just a few days of solitary confinement were enough to affect even seasoned criminals and rebels. He had seen it often enough during his time with the Axxilan fleet, where he had instigated such punishment on many occasions.

The prince was far too young for to be subjected to such conditions. Even worse, the investigation of the incident had concluded that it was unlikely that the prince had even known of the escape attempt. Piett suspected with a twinge of guilt that it had been his own efforts to find the prince's accomplice that had set off the series of unfortunate events that had led to it.

The turbolift doors in front of him opened and Piett stepped out into the Executor’s detention block which housed at the moment only a single occupant.

Maybe it was this guilt that had led him here the moment he had received the go ahead to have the young prince moved back into his quarters.

Piett hadn't bothered wasting time to let the detention center staff know of his impending visit so he was greeted with startled looks. One of them hastily deactivated the force field to let him through. They scrambled to stand at attention as per regulations when he entered.

"Sir, how may I-"

Piett waived the man off. "I am here to collect the prince."

"I understand, Sir," the guard glanced over his shoulder before turning with a confused look back to him, realizing that he had come alone. "Shall I summon a patrol to-"

"That won't be necessary, Lieutenant. I can handle the boy by myself." 

"Of course, Sir," the man replied promptly, but he still looked doubtful. "This way, please."

He led the way down the narrow corridor to the cells with the highest security they could provide. Piett followed him. He hardly ever went down here, it was hardly part of his duties and even as a visitor he wasn’t impervious to the stifling atmosphere. The detention center guard that had accompanied him keyed in a code and stepped back to allow him to enter the small room. 

The prince was sitting with pulled up legs on the small ledge the cell provided as it’s only furniture, his chin tucked between them and his arms hugged around his legs. He stared up to him with wary eyes. The boy looked like he had not slept for a single hour in the past three days he had spent locked up. He had a blanket tightly pulled around him, but Piett knew that it was deliberately cold in the cells, and no blanket would be enough to keep away the chill for long. He looked as haggard as Piett himself felt after these past days.

The prince made no move to acknowledge him, eying him with red, tired eyes.

“Your Highness,” Piett said, breaking the silence. “I am here to escort you back to your quarters.” He gestured with his hand invitingly to the door.

The boy rose to his feet, gingerly stretching his stiff legs before stepping toward him. Close up he looked even more tired than he had from across the cell. He seemed to be gauging Piett’s expression and Piett tried a little smile to break the ice. 

He stepped to the side to let Luke pass through the door first, which the boy did hesitantly. Outside he hung back again, visibly uncomfortable under the scrutiny of his minders. Piett reached with a hand and placed it lightly on the boy's shoulder in a gestured that he hoped came across as fatherly and not intrusive. With gentle pressure, he guided him down the narrow corridor and through the command room into the waiting turbolift. 

The doors of the lift closed and Piett let his hand fall back to his side as the prince seemed to stand up a little taller, relieved to be able to leave the brig. He stared dead ahead, not uttering a single word, so Piett took heart.

“Apologies, your Highness, for the stay in these… um, accommodations,” he said. “I will do my utmost to avoid such a situation again.”

The boy regarded him warily. “I appreciate that, Admiral,” he replied quietly. His voice was hoarse after days of having little use for it and. He was a far cry from his sparking defiance he had displayed in his first meeting with Piett.

They entered the corridor leading to the prince’s quarters. Piett watched the boy’s eyes dart around, taking in the more visible changes that had been implemented in his absence. The number of guards had been increased, new security posts established at all access points to avoid any further unauthorized access to the boy. The whole deck of the bridge tower around his accommodations had been cleared and cordoned off, much to the chagrin of a number of officers that had to leave their assigned quarters to less preferred areas of the ship.

At their approach, the door to the quarters was opened by one of the stationed guards. The prince stepped over the door step with much more confidence than he had left the cell. Piett followed him in. Once more thought that the boy scanned his surroundings for visible changes, but he quarters looked almost unchanged.

The prince couldn’t possible notice that in the meantime all walls though out had been reinforced with battle grade durasteel plates that could even withstand a point-blank attack with laser cannons. After the extensive refitting that Vader had ordered, the former state quarters now rivaled even their best equipped detention facility that the boy had just left behind.

The prince made his way straight to the bedroom door.

“Do you require anything, Highness?” Piett enquired before he could make it through the door. Maybe he could help the boy at least a little to overcome the traumatizing events of his confinement. 

The boy stopped in his tracks and turned to regard him. He mutely shook his head. 

“Very well, I’ve had some food brought up,” Piett said, gesturing in the direction of the small dining room. “I’m sure you will find it more acceptable than the... previous rations.”

The boy nodded unenthusiastically and Piett thought it wiser to leave him alone. He turned to the door. Just when he reached to knock to signal the guards outside to open the door for him, he heard a small voice behind him.

“How many days have passed?” the prince asked quietly.

He turned back to regard the boy, looking quite lost. “About three standard days,” he replied, and it occurred to him that it likely had been three days the boy had not slept. “You look like you could do with some rest,” he said. “Do you wish for something to ease you to sleep?”

The prince eyed him contemplatively, some gratitude in his features. But then he shook his head. “I’ll try without, thank you.”

Piett nodded at him in a hopefully encouraging way. “Until then, your Highness.”

+++

The door behind him slid shut and he was alone again. Luke bit back a sob, the strain of the past days almost overwhelming him now that he was back in familiar surroundings. The prospect of being alone was frightening, but even though the Admiral had been nice, the thought of making polite conversation was plain unbearable.

Luke rubbed his arms to chase away the lingering chill. He looked around. At first glance his quarters looked almost unchanged. But they felt different. They looked even more austere than they had before and on a closer glance several pieces of furniture and small decorative items that had been here before were now missing. The thought that others had invaded this last retreat he had while he was locked up on the brig was infuriating, even though he shouldn’t be surprised by it.

It was still a relief to be back. At least now he could clean himself up properly and wash away the smell and clamminess of the cell still lingering in his clothes and on his skin. After he had taken a sonic and changed into a new set of clothes, Luke felt a bit better. 

He checked the small dining room. As the admiral had promised a tray with food was waiting for him. He glared at it. It was just a means of keeping him alive and reasonably well, no real kindness. He half-heartedly considered resuming the hunger strike he had attempted when he had first arrived, still blissfully ignorant of his familial connection to his captor. But he was so tired and he plainly couldn’t muster the energy and resolve to refuse to eat. Hungrily he wolfed down the portion. It was a lot better than the bland nutri paste he had been given in the pat days.

Luke retired to the living area, huddling himself up in the couch. His limbs were stiff from sitting perched on the cold metal slab in the cell too long. In the beginning, he had tried to keep himself warm and at least slightly more comfortable by moving around the tiny cell. He had paced it and measured the small space over and over again. Two steps from his bench to the door and three steps across. But he tired fast and most of the time he had sat hunched on the bench, blanket wrapped around him, the only bit of comfort left.

His mind had been running in circles, repeating the horrible moments in the hangar bay. The way Vader had murdered in cold blood the only ones aboard this vessel that had wanted to save him, that had cared. Luke shook his head to chase away the image of the dark-haired man, gasping for air that never would reach his lungs. But it seemed burned into his retinas, returning to him even here in the familiar confines of his quarters. 

He shouldn't have hesitated when they told them they had the means to get him away from here. He shouldn't have argued against their offer. He'd be free now and more importantly, they would still live. He had caused their deaths with his foolish notion that Vader cared about him, that he'd listen to him. That he meant something to Vader other than just the means to an end.

Whenever he managed to tear his mind from this viscous cycle, it had turned to the confrontation with Vader. He had dreaded the moment Vader would return and demand answers from him that he couldn’t possibly give. But he hadn't come.

Instead a pair of cold looking wardens had visited him, wordlessly handing him a thin blanket and a bowl of disgusting nutri paste. He had tried asking them questions, when he'd be released or even how much time had passed since he had been pushed into the cell, but they never bothered to even acknowledge that they heard him. Their cold indifference to his plight stung just as much their earlier hostility.

He had studiously ignored blanket and food until the hole in his stomach had become impossible to ignore and he had been so cold that he felt he was made out of durasteel himself.

Once the adrenaline had worn off, tiredness had threatened to take over. Every time exhaustion had claimed him and he dozed off, he’d start awake again soon, stricken by the same vivid nightmare. So Luke tried his best to keep himself from falling asleep.

He had tried talking to himself to chase away the cloying quiet in which the dull throb of the ships powerful engines became unbearably loud, reciting poems and speeches. But his voice sounded foreign to himself in the small space, echoing uncomfortable and he had eventually given up on it. Instead he had spent countless hours staring at the same grey walls around him, illuminated by the never changing glaring light. 

All sense of time had been lost in the dull grey world around him, the only regular interruption and reliable marker that hours or maybe days must have passed was the delivery of food and water rations always brought by the same indifferent men who he had stopped bothering to acknowledge at all.

But such interruption of the monotony was scare and his existence had turned into an endless grey nightmare, becoming increasingly blurry the more tired he got. In all those weeks, he had never missed his home and his parents as much as he did now. Time and again he caught himself reaching for his locket before he reminded himself that it was gone.

In his darkest hours in the cell, when he had been teetering on the brink between sleep and awareness and the grey walls around him seemed to close in on him, ready to crush him, he feared his future of what would happen if Vader had truly abandoned him here and simply didn’t care to ever let him out again. 

You should be happy about it, his viscous mind responded, at least this way he won’t be using you and you won’t be in danger of believing his lies again. 

How could he have been this stupid as to trust Vader like a blind nerf. Bail had told him all about him. About what he did and how he was just as dangerous as the Emperor himself.

How could he forget so easily who he had dealt with. Vader was the worst of the whole lot of Imperials. He still remembered how he had sworn to himself when he had first been shoved into the confines of these quarters that he would never allow them to use him for their plans. 

Oh, how he had been played nicely. The obedient, docile pawn that he had promised himself he wouldn’t be. How could he have ever been so stupid as to think Vader felt anything like fatherly feelings for him. He was nothing more than a tool for Vader, a useful prisoner. All he wanted from him was to use him, even worse, he was a weapon to use and then to be disposed of. And he had readily allowed Vader to use him like that. 

What would Bail think of him at how easily he had caved in to that monster’s demands, how gullible he had been to fall so thoroughly for Vader’s empty promises dangled in front of him like a Juja fruit.

Vader was cunning and calculating. He had preyed on Luke’s foolish misconception of family. And Luke had opened up to him, shared his feelings and memories with him, feeling drawn to him in a bid to learn more about the man that was his biological father.

Bail, his real father should be ashamed of him. All his lessons to prepare him for his future role in politics, every caution Bail had given him thrown to the winds. He should be grateful that he had found out that he was weak and unsuitable for any sort of responsibility. Even worse. More guilt rose in Luke at the memory at how readily he had trampled on Alderaan’s customs and traditions.

+++

Luke sat in his pajamas on his couch, legs pulled up and his arms wrapped around them, contemplating his options. It was night and around him the room was only dimly illuminated with the customary night cycle lighting. He had managed to fall asleep in his bed, drop dead tired. But it hadn’t lasted long. A frightening nightmare of walls closing in on him, a door never to be opened again and Vader looming in the corner, ready to strike had ended his sleep before long. 

Before sleep had fully left him, Luke had already been at the door, pounding on it and begging them to let him out. Only then he had come to his senses, recognizing the room around him as the small bedroom in his quarters and not the cell in the brig. A punch on the door release had mercifully opened it and Luke had fled into the large living area.

For a while he had just stared out the viewport, the dense star field beyond calming him down like nothing else in here could, before exhaustion had settled in and he had contemplated his options. He really should go back to bed. He was tired and needed sleep to recover. But eying the gaping door to his bedroom and the dark room beyond, Luke couldn't bring himself to return in there. It was irrational, but in the tiny room with no viewport he felt just as trapped as he had in the cell. 

Luke glanced out the viewport again, the only thing truly comforting in here. His decision made, Luke rose to his feet. With determined steps, he got into the bedroom and snatched up pillows and blankets. With his bundle, he marched back into the living room. He piled the pillows and blankets on the floor in front of the viewport. It might be childish, but he was certain that here he could find rest and peaceful slumber. 

It wasn’t the first time he had resorted to sleeping here, though it had been a long while since he had felt the need to. But if he always gathered up his bedding and removed it before any Imperial came in in the morning to bring him food, they'd be none the wiser of his unusual choice of bed and just how much he was affected by his imprisonment.

Luke wrapped a blanket around himself and huddled himself in his makeshift bunk. The head rested against the viewport, he finally found some peace.

Luke woke again many hours later feeling rested and calm for the first time in days. He knew now what he had to do. He would not allow himself to be used by the Dark Lord in his bid for power, settling the galaxy with the next tyrannical leader. It wouldn't matter what punishment Vader would deal out for his defiance.

He might be Vader’s son, but he would never be like him. He'd always look up to his adoptive parents and while he might have lost his way for a while, it didn’t change who he was. 

He was Luke Organa of Alderaan.

+++

Chapter Text

+++

It had taken days for Vader’s temper to cool down to something less resembling the boiling lava on Mustafa. In the weeks of having his son at his side he had at times suspected he came across almost approachable to his subordinates. Now his presence alone was once again enough to get them shaking with fear. They hastened to follow his orders to the letter, fearful he might kill them at the slightest mistake as he had disposed of the ones responsible for the intolerable lack of security around the boy.

As they should. This would keep them on edge and prevent any further mistakes.

But he had been premature in accusing the boy of having tried to escape. With every hasty update on the investigation he received from Admiral Piett, it became clearer that Luke had had no hand in it himself. This more than anything had managed to appease him. It was a good thing that he had left his son in the cell in time before he could truly lash out against the boy. He might have gotten a bit carried away, but just as himself Luke had needed some time to cool off his temper. It would serve Luke as a valuable lesson not to try the limits of his patience.

Vader had felt a foul and bitter mood in the force, whenever he had brushed over Luke’s presence. In the end, he had decided that it was for the best if he would go to see the boy and offer him another lightsaber lesson. In the past, it had helped cheering the boy up and it would help him. to move past this unfortunate episode, too.

Luke was giving him a cool reception, regarding him with a hard stare and refusing to acknowledge him when he greeted him. It appeared that while their time apart had sufficiently calmed his own temper, the boy was still upset about his stay in detention. 

“I trust you have recovered well,” Vader said to break the taut silence.

Once again Luke chose not to reply as he continued to stare at him, his jaw set. Vader shouldn't be surprised. He shouldn't expect him to understand that it had been for the best. His son didn’t understand the importance of his own safety, the length Vader was ready to go to ensure the same. Vader had no intention of discussion what lay past them. It was in their mutual best interest to move forward. Luke needed to resume training, the past days had thrown back Vader’s schedule and time was precious if Luke was to be strong enough to face Palpatine once the time was ripe.

 “Very well, we will recommence your training to make up for the time lost-”

“No!”

Vader fixed his gaze on Luke’s face, for a moment inclined to believe that his helmet had malfunctioned and he thus had misheard. But the furious determination edged on the boy’s face left no doubt that Luke had indeed rediscovered his rebellious streak.

“What did you say?” Vader felt his mood taking an instant plunge. He stared him down, but the boy wasn’t thinking about backing down.

“I said no!” Luke repeated a little louder. “I will no longer let you use me for your twisted plans.”

Vader straightened up to his full height, clasping his hands behind his back and reigning in his frustration and anger. Once again he was dangerously close to losing his temper in front of the boy. He took a calming breath, determined to be more patient this time. It would do more harm than good should he lash out against the boy again. He needed to try a more diplomatic approach with him. 

“Is that so? Perhaps you wish to discuss with me what you take issue with?” he said evenly.

But instead of mollifying the boy, it seemed to have the opposite effect on his son. Luke looked even more enraged. 

“What I take issue with?” he flustered. “You-, how dare you? I am just a weapon for you to be used and then discarded. All you want is to gain power for yourself. I am no longer falling for your empty promises and lies.”

“Son-”

“Stop calling me that. It means nothing to you.”

“You are my son, if you like it or not,” Vader said.

“I am Luke Organa. In every way that matters I am not your son.” Luke stabbed his finger at Vader, his nostrils flaring. 

“Do not talk to me like that, young one,” Vader said, catching Luke’s wrist, before he could pull it back.

Luke reared back, forcefully tugging against his grip and positively shaking with rage. “Or what? Or you’ll throw me back into a cell? Kill me? Do your worst. I will no longer be your puppet, Lord Vader.”

Vader felt anger rise in him and his grip on the boy’s wrist tightened. Luke winced and through the Force Vader could feel his fear despite his furious expression. He once again reminded himself that violence would not get him anywhere now. The boy seemed to have truly inherited the stubbornness of his mother and father combined. He swallowed his icy remark and took a calming breath. Luke yanked his arm back hard and Vader let him go, unwilling to hurt the boy. He didn’t need force to make the boy comply, he had other ways to coerce him.

“Need I remind you of our deal, Highness. You agreed to submit to my training. If you no longer intend to abide to our agreement then I am no longer obliged to uphold my end of it either.”

Luke’s eyes narrowed. “I remember our deal. I am altering it. I will not let you train me anymore.”

“Then you do not seem to value the life of your family as much as I thought you did,” Vader said coolly.

But his well-used threat against the boy’s foster parents no longer worked. Instead it only managed truly incited Luke’s temper.

“You are evil,” he shouted. “I am sick of you threatening them. Like you wouldn’t kill them once you are done with me. You often enough said so yourself.”

Vader was for a moment stunned into silence by his son’s tirade. The past events seemed to have destroyed more of their progress than he had anticipated. It was useless to push for obedience now as it would likely cause even more damage. “I will give you time to reconsider your decision,” he said. “We can discuss this at a later-”

“I won't do it,” the boy interrupted. Luke had his chin raised, his blue eyes sparking with defiance. “Do not bother to come back.”

“Luke-” Vader tried, but broke off at the boy’s hateful stare.

“I’d rather be alone now,” Luke said icily.

Vader regarded him, before conceding the battle. “As you wish.”

With that he turned and left.

+++

Luke paced up and down in front of the viewport in his quarters, his heart pounding in his chest. They were still in Hyperspace, the familiar blue swirls occupying the plastisteel and casting the otherwise dark room into a bluish light. And with every second passing, Luke was getting more frightened.

Stars, he shouldn’t have called Vader out like this. He really, really shouldn’t have. 

Shortly after Vader had left him, the Executor had made the jump to Hyperspace. It was then when Luke finally had realized what he had done. Now Vader would make good on his threat and bring his squadron to attack Alderaan.

Ever since, Luke had tried with growing desperation to use their mental connection to get through to Vader, ready to beg him not to hurt his parents or his people as punishment for his defiance. But their bond had remained eerily quiet, no matter how hard he concentrated on it. Vader ignored any attempt of him to speak to him.

But surely Vader would come back if he intended to make him watch his homeworld burn. Surely he’d give him another opportunity to give him what he wanted. But Vader hadn’t returned.

When his efforts to mentally contact Vader had failed, Luke had even tried banging on the door, sure that the guards positioned outside could hear him. But they did not react to his pleading and begging to let him speak to Vader or the admiral. 

Luke stopped in his tracks, concentrating once again on the bond that always seemed waiting at the back of his mind, desperate to express his remorse. The thought of Vader murdering his parents was unbearable. He’d rather offer to take any punishment Vader would mete out to him instead. 

Please, please answer me, Father. I’m sorry. I promise, I'll do anything you ask.

But just as before their bond remained dormant and no response or even an acknowledgement came from his father. Luke’s concentration was interrupted by a small shudder that went through the deck plates. The vibration signaled the vessel dropping out of Hyperspace. Luke’s fear spiked.

No, no, no…

He rushed to the viewport, his heart beating in his throat. He tried his best to brace himself to see the familiar orb of Alderaan floating in front of him, moments before fire would rain down on the peaceful world and knowing that he brought doom on his homeworld.

The blue swirl gave way to the darkness of space as the vessel decelerated. But instead of the blue and green of his homeworld a different planet appeared floating in space ahead of them, its surface starkly red against the black of space. With disbelieving relief Luke stared at it.

He sagged to his knees The tension of the past hours left him as the truth finally sank in. Not Alderaan. He leaned his forehead against the soothingly cool transparisteel of the viewport as he watched as the vessel slowly crept closer to the planet. In orbit above it hung the giant structure of a yard, spanning like a ring around the red orb and for once Luke was sure which planet they were visiting. It must be Kuat and its famed drive yards they were approaching now.

Luke could count at least fifty Star Destroyers, attached to the yards, some looking almost ready and others merely the skeleton of a structure, outlining the vessels’ later shape. The Emperor’s war machine in its full swing.

Like a swam of fire beetles, a small fleet of tugboats crowded around the Executor. Luke watched as they one by one took position around the vessel. With their strong tractor beams, they guided the huge vessel slowly closer to the docking yard until they had reached their mooring position.

+++

Frustrated Vader emerged from deep meditation, finally giving up on his failed attempt to seek guidance from the Force. The sharp smell of the disinfectant in the pressurized air around him, reminded him uncomfortably of the way too many stays in medbays he had to endure, both in the life of his younger self and even more now. He opened his eyes. For a while he fixed his gaze on the blank walls on the inside of his meditation chamber, waiting for his eyes to focus after having been closed for so long.

He balled his hands in frustration.

No matter how much he contemplated the situation, he hadn’t gotten any closer to an answer on how to approach the boy without damaging his already broken trust further. Their earlier encounter had proven that his son hated him with passion. When his initial rage at Luke’s defiance had faded, hurt had set in at his son’s outright rejection.

He shouldn't care. It shouldn’t change his plan. He could still make use of the boy as long as he made sure to keep his still raw, untamed power muzzled and at his command. Despite his earlier proclaimed indifference, Vader was sure that he could use the boy's attachments against him by threatening those the young prince cared about most. It was Luke’s weakness, simple to exploit. And even if Luke would remain unimpressed. The boy was still his prisoner. With no possibility to escape, Luke would inevitably yield to his demands.

At least to the day when his son would inevitably shake off his chains and usurp him. Such was the way of the Sith. He'd use the boy to seize the galaxy and slay his own master and later when Luke’s powers would eventually exceed his own his son would do the same to him.

But Vader could not find pleasure at the thought. He didn’t long to possess the boy as Sidious thrived in possessing the father. He wished to win his young son’s heart. At first it had only been a thought of purging the boy’s feelings of attachment to his adoptive father, to reclaim what was rightfully his from the kidnapper who had taken his son as his own. But seeing the child so openly hateful, hurt Vader deeper than he had would ever admit. 

Yet he shouldn’t be surprised. Yes, the boy’s rejection had stung, just as his mother’s betrayal had, but what had he expected. How could he have assumed that it would be any different with the boy who had been so heavily influenced to oppose him. Of course, all his son would ever feel for him was hate, filled into him by Bail Organa.

But it hadn't always been that way, a small voice in his head chimed in, sounding suspiciously like his younger self. Luke trusted you until you turned him against you yourself. As much as Vader would like to deny it, it was true. After the initial shock of the reveal of his true parentage had passed, Luke had opened up to him. Even recklessly so, letting down his guard so fast and allowing him in much too easily. He had meant to warn the child then, never to trust anyone this much and this easily, but he had found himself unable to. Too much he had enjoyed himself the boy's cautious ways of trying to connect with him.

It had taken precious time to gain the boy's trust and it had all come undone. Vader cursed the imbeciles that had interfered with their misguided attempt to help the imprisoned prince. It had pushed his son further away from him than he had been even in the beginning when he had taken him from his home.

Vader balled his fist, the dark side responding to the anger and self-loath he felt. He should admit it to himself that he was utterly incapable of taking care of the child in a way that wasn’t harming Luke. It should be his duty to remove the child from this situation, yet releasing him was no option.

Instead Vader had considered to find a more suitable dwelling for the boy to be kept, some planetary installation where he could enjoy a little more freedom. But that would mean to leave Luke in the hands of other and Vader would entrust no one with his son’s life.

And yet, maybe not all was lost. Maybe with time and the right methods he could regain his son's trust, even regain his loyalty and his love like he had once held his wife's. Her betrayal had hurt deeper than any of the wounds that had left his body scarred and mutilated. The boy was the last thing that had remained of his late wife and he refused to give him up so easily.

This time he'd make sure to truly win over the child, this time no one would stand in his way to sway Luke to betray Vader like Obi Wan had swayed the boy's mother.

Yet how should he approach the boy, if his even peaceful interaction caused the child to withdraw from him further. Coaxing him out of his shell would be more difficult than it had been before. He needed to come up with a plan.

Vader flipped on a datapad and pulled up the hourly ship updates he received. A total of six were waiting in his inbox to be read. His fruitless attempt to find a way to solve the issue with his son’s broken trust had taken much longer than he had thought. Well, it was the least he could do for his son, Luke deserved nothing short of his best efforts.

All of the reports were signed off by Piett, who wisely chosen not to disturb him. Piett. The admiral seemed to have a good rapport with his son from the very beginning, something Vader had tolerated and watched at times with jealously.

According to the last update they had arrived one standard hour ago the Kuat Drive Yards where the Executor was scheduled to undergo minor refittings and remedy the flaws that had been found during this first longer journey and before the vessel would be deployed on its next mission. This break was convenient, it would take several days and during that time he could utilize the admiral differently.

Vader reached for his comlink.

+++

Firmus Piett took a long gulp of the Correllian brandy from the glass in his hand, before continuing to stare pensively into the distance. At this time, the officer’s lounge was blissfully empty and no one had disturbed him as he pondered what in the galaxy he had done wrong to deserved being dragged into this.

He looked up in dismay when he heard his name. General Veers had just entered the room and he didn’t waste time to make a beeline for him.

“What are you holing yourself up here?” Veers said with a hint of accusation in his voice. “Thought you were a goner when he summoned you halfway through that meeting with the yard commander.”

Piett shrugged non-committal, unwilling to admit that this thought had crossed his mind too when he had made his way to Lord Vader’s quarters after Vader had ordered him to report without delay.

Veers eyes fell on the powered down mouse droid, that he had placed next to his chair in a foolish hope he could forget its existence for a while as it reminded him of the prince. Piett cursed inwardly. He had no wish to discuss how and why this particular droid had come into his possession.

“What is that?”

“That is an MSE unit-“

“I know that.” Veers cut across him impatiently. “What I didn’t know is that you had a thing for these little pests.” 

Piett chose to cover the silence in which the general was expecting an answer by taking another sip of his brandy. But the general was too perceptive.

“He summoned you to give you a mouse droid?” he asked, incredulous.

“More or less.” Piett shrugged again.

“Why?”

“Believe me, I wish I’d know, Max…” It was even the truth. Of course, he knew what he was supposed to do with the blasted droid. But he had no idea what Vader was hoping to achieve with the droid.

Both lapsed into a short silence in which Piett’s thoughts once more dwelled on the boy and how he was faring.

“That kid’s tougher than you think,” Veers said unexpectedly, interrupting his thoughts.

“What do you mean?” he asked, annoyed that the general again seemed to have picked up his thoughts.

“You still think about the kid, don’t you?” Veers continued unperturbed. “Trust me, he’ll be fine. If he takes after his father, he won’t be easily intimidated.”

+++

Chapter Text

+++

Piett marched through the long hallways of the Executor, his gaze straight ahead so he could better ignore the curious stares he received. By no right should a powered down mouse droid be attracting this much attention, regardless of who carried it clutched under one arm. He had no wish to explain his newest mission to anyone as he made his way to the prince.

Three days ago, he had fetched the kid from the brig and Piett found himself hoping that the prince had recovered from the worst fall out of his stay in detention by now. His hopes however received a harsh dent when he was met with a very tense atmosphere upon entering the prince’s quarters. Instead of finding the boy alone Piett, the rooms were almost crowded with a search underway, some stormtroopers noisily rummaging through the rooms.

It was a daily occurrence now, irregularly scheduled searches of the quarters inhabited by the prince. Their new Head of Security had insisted on them in a bid to avoid sharing his predecessor’s fate. But so far no remotely forbidden item had ever been found in these rooms other than the still mysterious uniform that had appeared some weeks ago.

The prince sat with his back to the search party, ostentatiously ignoring them. The officer overseeing the search came to attention to greet him. Piett returned the salute. He stepped to the couch the boy was perched upon, legs crossed and a datapad in his hand. Up close he looked more tired and paler than usual.

The prince kept his eyes fixed on the datapad in his hand, taking no notice of him. But Piett wasn’t fooled. He was sure that his attention was very much on the people currently rummaging through his rooms no matter how much he pretended to ignore them. Piett cleared his throat audibly. “Your Highness?”

Sure enough, the boy’s eyes flickered toward him in an instant. Upon recognizing him, he shifted his attention to Piett, a hint of surprise on his features at seeing him here.

“Admiral,” he acknowledged coolly. He turned back to the datapad in his hand.

Piett ignored the sharp intake of breath of the officer lurking nearby who looked utterly consternated at the boy’s lack of respect for his commanding officer. In the corner of Piett’s eye he could see the man make a half step toward the prince, looking like he was about to order him to get up, but Piett waived him quickly down.

It seemed this would be as difficult as he had thought, but Lord Vader’s orders had been clear and Piett hadn’t made it through the ranks with backing down at the first sign of difficulties or resistance. He straightened his back and shifted his grip on the small droid that Vader had insisted the boy would be pleased to see. Carefully hiding his own puzzlement about the peculiar order, he held the MSE unit out for the boy to see.

“I was instructed to give you this,” he said.

The prince looked up, fixing his blue gaze on the droid. Piett thought that he saw recognition flash over the prince’s features. But he made no move to take it. Instead the boy crossed his arms, leaning back demonstratively.

“What does he want from me,” he said testily.

Piett forced a smile. The boy sure was observant. “I was under the impression that Lord Vader thought you would appreciate… the gift,” he tried. But he wasn’t even sure that it was meant as a gift in the first place. So far Vader had shown little to no interest in the hostage placed under his care, a responsibility he had taken on only reluctantly in the first place as far as Piett had gathered. The only times he had bothered to personally deal with the boy there had been either at the Emperor’s orders or to punish him. So why would Vader even think the boy would like to receive one of the mouse droids swarming the ship?

The prince huffed, obviously sharing Piett’s opinion. But he did not object when Piett placed the powered down droid on the small table in front of the couch. The prince glared at it for a moment, before he pointedly turned back to his datapad, resting in his lap.

“Would you mind if I sit down,” Piett asked, gestured to the couch opposite of him.

The boy made a dismissive wave without bothering to look up. “Should I? This is your ship, isn't it?”

Piett sat down, not correcting the boy’s notion that even as the admiral of this vessel and battle group he was hardly the owner any of his majesty’s warships. Nor that he owned anything onboard up to and including the uniform he wore. “How do you feel, Highness?” he asked.

The boy looked up to regard him with raised eyebrows. “Quite fine, thank you,” he said rather stiffly.

A blunt lie. The prince’s eyes were still lined by dark circles and his face still bore traces of the past days' strain.

“Forgive me for saying this, but you don’t seem fine to me,” Piett said.

“And what makes you think that, Admiral?” the boy replied scathingly. He measured Piett up, his eyebrows furrowed as if he was concentrating on something. His face darkened. “Vader told you to talk to me,” he stated with unnerving certainty. 

Piett floundered at the boy’s directness. He found himself uncomfortably reminded of Lord Vader himself, who always seemed to know what was really going on. Well, if the prince resembled Vader in this then straight up lying to the boy would certainly not help, so Piett resorted to his usual strategy when dealing with his commander. 

“He did,” he confirmed flat out. His own bluntness seemed to be taking the wind out of the boy’s sail and he closed his mouth swallowing the angry retort he had had on his lips. Encouraged Piett continued. “Lord Vader is concerned for your well-being, Highness.”

“I doubt that,” the prince huffed.

Piett chose to ignore the biting comment. “Do you want to talk about how you feel?”

The boy looked at him with cold eyes and a notch more anger in his voice. “As I said-”

“I know this hasn’t been easy for you,” Piett interjected.

“Do you? So what is this then? Does he want you to lift my spirits just so he can break me again?” the boy snarled, blue eyes flashing angrily. “Trust me, it is only a matter of time until he has me thrown back into a cell.”

Piett cringed. “No, I…” he broke off to try a different approach. “The investigation of the incident has concluded that you are not to blame for the events that have transpired. You don’t have to fear any further repercussions.”

The prince fire up. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?” he snarled. “Vader doesn’t need any reason to do with me as he pleases. One day he sends you and the next day he decides to punish me again.”

Piett sat speechless at the boy's tirade. The prince took a deep breath, ready to shout him down some more. But then he let out his breath and lowered his gaze, shoulders sagging. “Apologies, admiral. This is hardly your fault. I appreciate your concern,” he said quietly.

“There is no need to apologize, Highness.” Privately Piett thought that the boy had not even come close to a more than justified outburst. “If there is anything that you require or wish, please let me know. I am sure Lord Vader will give your requests due consideration.”

The prince’s eyebrow arched up and a small sardonic smile appeared on his face that made Piett’s heart sink. “Anything? Well, then I want privacy.”

“Privacy?”

“Yes, I grow tired of having to endure this every single day,” he gestured dismissively at the officer standing at the door who threw back a sour stare at the boy.

Piett’s heart sank, he had gone out on a limb, offering to relay the boy’s requests to Vader and he strongly doubted that Vader would have much patience with the prince’s demand. But he inclined his head to the prince. “I will inform Lord Vader of your request and see what I can do.” 

“Of course you will.” The boy’s voice was heavy with disbelieve.

Piett again chose to pretend that he couldn’t hear the prince’s bitter sarcasm or see the reproachful stare of the officer still standing in the door. The prince’s mistrust was understandable and he was relieved to see that the past events had not managed to break his spirit even if that meant that he had to listen to his jabs.

He rose to his feet, about to wish the boy a good day, when a particularly loud clatter from the adjacent room edged an angry scowl on the boy's face. Piett considered saying something, but the prince was once more busying himself staring down the datapad in his slightly shaking hands. Piett suppressed a sigh, this would prove a difficult task indeed.

+++

In the distance, the snow-capped peaks of the Juran mountains were glistening in the midday sun. It was the first day of the year warm enough to spend it outside and the doors of his office were flung wide open to let in the fresh air. Bail stood on the balcony of his study, leaning on the stone carved parapet. From here he could take in the stunning view over Aldera and its surrounding landscape.

Luke had always loved this time of the year, when he could play nuna-ball with his friends outside in the large gardens belonging to the palace. He had always taken more after his biological father. He loved to move around, be outdoors or to tinker with his machines. Bail knew that Luke had never been too fond of his duties as a prince, that often enough required him to stifle his interests and instead had him spend long hours representing in formal receptions and functions.

But Luke had rarely complained. Bail had  wondered if it was wrong to bar him from doing what he wished to do, knowing so well that it was deeply rooted in Luke's blood. But his adoptive son had taken on his duties with great conscientiousness, willing to fulfill them best he could, no matter how irksome they were.

It was hard to imagine his freedom-loving son sitting in a small windowless cell aboard a star destroyer, unable to see the starlight and without a breath of fresh air day in day out, for weeks and now for months.

A small cough behind him pulled Bail from his thoughts and made him turn around. 

“Well, Senator?”

Bail forced a neutral expression, eyeing the governor sitting ostentatiously relaxed in Bail's office chair.

“What is your decision?” the governor asked.

“If the Emperor thinks a second garrison on the planet is necessary to establish then I am in no position to stop him.”

“Very good, senator, I am glad you see reason.” The governor said smugly. “The emperor will be pleased to hear that you share his opinion.”

Bail forced himself to stay silent, determined not to let the man rile him up. Do it for Luke, he reminded himself. His pride was a small price to pay, if it kept Luke save.

“Very well, I will take my leave then.” The governor rose and made to move for the door.

“Wait, you said I could speak to my son now,” Bail said quickly before he got there. The governor indeed halted and turned back to him a false smile on his lips.

“Ah, yes. I remember,” he said.

Bail grit his teeth. As if the man could have forgotten the reason Bail had allowed them to meet in the confines of his own office rather than in the Imperial headquarter which insides Bail was seeing more and more of these days. “I’m afraid Lord Vader has cancelled the appointment,” the governor said with feigned compassion.

“What? But-”

“Now, now, Lord Vader is a very busy man, not least because of men like you who like to stir up problems.”

Bail scowled, his hands balled into tight fists.

“And Lord Vader surely wouldn’t have cancelled without a very good reason. He would certainly not unreasonably withhold your son from you. Not as he knows how very important this is to you.”

“Has he said when I will be able to speak to Luke again?” Bail said not entirely managing to prevent the strain and worry he felt from showing in his voice.

“He hasn’t. I fear that his current duties do not allow him to make time for this. You have to understand that as important this is to you, it is inconsequential for the welfare of the greater galaxy.” The governor grinned at him. “Now if you would excuse me. I too have to attend to a great many tasks,” In the door he turned again. “See to it that the death warrants that I have left you on your table are returned to me tonight duly signed.”

“Death warrants?” 

“Yes,” the governor said smugly. “Is there a problem, Senator?”

“We abolished the death penalty centuries ago. No-”

“But these cases will be treated as per the standard Imperial code. I would hope that the increasing loss of order on this planet can be stopped with the application of a firmer legislation. Your code, as honorable as it may be, does not seem to be able to maintain the public order.” 

“I-” Bail weakly, 

“Have the prince in mind when you sign them. Surely it will come easier to you then,” he said, an open grin on his lips. “Now don't let me keep you, you have a lot on your desk.” With that he left.

Bail stared numbly after him. He turned to his desk and took the datapad that the governor had placed on it with shaky hands and flipped it on. His foolish hope that he wouldn’t find the dreaded death sentences was in vain. There were about a dozen of them, a date for the executions already set in a few days. Bail sagged his shoulders. How could he sign them, sending those men and women to their death? Yet how could he refuse, knowing that Luke would pay the price?

It was all his fault. When Vader had invaded their home he had been stupid and naive enough to think himself influential enough to shield at least his son. He shouldn’t have allowed Vader take him away. He should have done something, anything just not stand by quietly and believe that that he would be able to get Luke back with his influence alone. He had failed his son.

And now he was failing the people of Alderaan. He had been forced to betray his own principles and given ground little by little. Each time he had dared to protest he had received reminders of how Luke would suffer the consequences for his defiance.

So he hadn't complained when more and more troops were posted on Alderaan, allegedly only for the time being to pacify the population. He had remained quiet when new travel regulations had been imposed that meant that all civilian traffic was to be held and searched on the hunt for rebels. He had stood by quietly when protestors had been arrested in droves. Bail wouldn’t be surprised when he'd found that some of them were those unlucky souls whose names he’d find on the datapad on his hand.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Bail looked up to find his wife standing in the open door, her brows knitted in worry.

Tired he held out the datapad to his wife. Breha accepted it and flipped it on to read it. The further she got a the more Bail could see his own repulsion mirrored in Breha’s gentle face. “What should I do? I can't sign off these, but if I don’t…” he asked.

“We’ll find a way.” She gently touched his shoulder. “What about Luke, could you-” she stopped when she saw his pained expression.

“This is the second time Vader has cancelled a scheduled call on short notice. What if Luke is injured and he therefore doesn't want to let him speak to us. What if he is-?” Bail broke off, unable to say the word.

“Calm down, love. Luke is fine. I know it. He can hold his own.” Breha said. “We'll find a way to get our son back.” 

Bail nodded even though he didn't believe it.

+++

Luke sagged with relief once the door had shut behind the last Imperial and he was finally alone again. With every day that passed, it was becoming more difficult to pretend that he didn’t care about this violation of his privacy. He raised his gaze from the datapad in his lap, still showing the same text for the past hour without him having read even a sentence of it.

He fixed his eyes at the mouse droid, sitting powered down on the side table exactly where the admiral had placed it. 

It really could be any droid of the same kind, but Luke was sure that this was the exact same one Vader had taken from him after the parade. Why would he now give it back to him, if he hadn’t cared about his protest then? Luke huffed. The answered was simple. Vader wished to manipulate him again. If he really had given up on threats to keep him compliant, maybe he now planned to employ more subtle methods to get back under his skin, to lull him in, pretending he cared about him by offering him gifts and small reliefs.

He had been wrong before in placing trust in his father, wrong in thinking Vader saw anything else in him but a tool to achieve his own ambitions of power. His lenience and show of compassion would end as it had before the moment Luke dared to step out of line.

But this time Luke wouldn’t fall for this cheap trick again. He shot the droid another pointed glare.

Luke got to his feet and made his way into the small bedroom, eying with distaste the mess the Imperials had left. Just as the last days they hadn’t bothered to be careful when ripping out the clothing provided to him and shoving it back into the wardrobe with just as little care or poking around with their stun batons in every drawer. He had protested the first time, but backed down after they had threatened him with their batons and told him that he would be moved to a holding cell while they searched his belongings if he refused to stand down.

He briefly considered not tidying up after them, knowing that tomorrow he would have to do it again anyway, but he dismissed that thought. As little as he liked it, this was his home now and he preferred to keep it as nice as possible. With a small sigh Luke got to work, removing every single item, folding it again neatly and putting it back into the wardrobe.

But he didn’t get far when a loud crash from the living room made him jump.

Luke rushed, peeking into the room to find the cause of the noise. At first the room appeared to be undisturbed, the main door locked as usual. Cautiously Luke stepped through the door and continued his search. A feeble beep sounded from under the small table. Luke rounded it to find the culprit.

The little droid must have powered up on its own and it had rolled straight off the table only to land on the floor on its side unable to get up, its small wheels whirring helplessly in the air. Luke wanted to turn back around and leave the droid where it was, but it beeped again weakly and Lue stopped in his tracks. He walked over and knelt down next to it. He reached out to set it back on its wheels.

“What were you thinking, really,” Luke said annoyed.

The droid answered with a series of embarrassed bleeps. But as soon as he let it go, it whirled off taking a fast round through the living room, beeping rapidly. Luke clambered back to his feet and walked back to the bedroom. The small droid followed him closely. Luke did his best ignoring it until he nearly tripped over it.

“Leave me alone, I’m not in the mood.”

The mouse droid budged, but the moment Luke turned his back on it he could hear it roll closer to him again. He shot it an angry glare.

“Get out!”

With a sad noise the it rolled off, back into the living room and Luke turned his attention back to the task of folding up his clothes. As so often he brushed his hand against his neck, expecting to feel the pendant, before he remembered that it was gone. His vision swam as unbidden tears sprang into his eyes.

Something was nudging against his ankles.

He looked down, finding the mouse droid next to him. It beeped.

Luke wiped his eyes on his sleeve. He bent down to pick up the small droid “I thought, he destroyed you.”

The droid chirped. Clearly it had thought that, too.

“I’m glad he didn’t.”

Luke hugged it close to his chest, not minding the cold metal.

+++

Chapter Text

+++

“Are you ready?” Luke said, grinning at his little companion. “Okay, let’s do this again!”

He picked up the metal spoon he had nicked from his dinner tray and reached out to the Force. It responded to his call and the spoon levitated obediently from his palm to soar through the room, Emsee the small mouse droid in hot pursuit. Luke let the spoon turn in a sharp angle, causing the droid to nearly topple over as he sped after his bait.

Next Luke let it fly between the legs of a chair only narrowly avoiding them and then ascend high up. The mouse droid came to a screeching halt, searching for the elusive spoon. Luke tried to look innocent when it shuffled around him. The droid continued his search in the corners of the room. Luke slowly and carefully let the spoon drop lower and lower. The moment Emsee spotted it, he whirled forward as fast as his small wheels would carry him. Luke made to warn him, but it was too late. The droid overshot the dangling spoon and careened with a loud bang into the main door.

Luke jumped up from his spot at the viewport and dashed to the door where the droid was screeching angrily. He dropped to his knees next to him. “Are you okay?”

Luke froze when he heard through the closed door the posted guards outside swear loudly. The droid answered with a rapid burst of indignant beeps and he purposefully rammed again into the door. This time Luke could catch some scraps of the outside conversation.

“… and get that kriffing droid out of there!”

“… that kid up to anyway?”

Luke chuckled and Emsee beeped enthusiastically. “Good job,” Luke said, patting him. At least they could annoy the guards a little.

He looked up to the wall-mounted chrono. It was already well into the afternoon. Luke frowned. So far no one but the men bringing his food had disturbed the relative peace of his rooms. But he refused to get his hopes up. This was likely just a coincidence. Maybe the Imperials wanted to keep their inspections unpredictable and would come later today. It was hard to believe that after the admiral’s visit yesterday Vader really had called his men off.

Luke’s musings were interrupted by Emsee. The droid pushed the spoon that had clattered to the floor where Luke had dropped, it closer to him. Luke smiled. He picked it up again and delved again into the Force. But the faint noise of clattering armor that drifted through the closed door interrupted his concentration. He lifted his head and listened intently. Yes, there was definitely movement outside on the hallway. Here they come, he thought acidly.

Luke scrambled to his feet and took a running jump onto the couch, to land in his favorite spot

“Emsee, come here, quick,” he said urgently. The little droid obliged and Luke picked him up. He cradled it in his lap. He would not let them take Emsee away again.

A moment later the door swished open.

Luke turned his head to regard his unwanted visitors. But instead of the search party he expected there stood only one man.

Admiral Piett scanned the room and spotted him fast. His eyes darted to the droid in his lap. Luke squared his shoulder, ready for whatever biting comment Piett would make about Luke accepting the droid after all, but the admiral didn’t mention it.

“Your Highness. If you like I would take you for a walk,” he asked instead with a small nod of his head.

Luke's expression hardened. “I think not.”

“I... I was under the impression that you would like to have some distraction?” Piett sounded genuinely disappointed.

“I can assure you, Admiral, that I have no desire to be dragged around this vessel in handcuffs and-”

“It won't be like that,” Piett interjected quickly.

Luke closed his mouth, swallowing the rest of his flaring anger. The admiral was the only one on board that seemed to care and he wasn’t the one Luke was angry at either. He’s only nice to you because Vader told him to. He’d do none of that without Vader’s order and consent. Luke quashed the viscous voice in his head. It didn’t matter. He’d never do what Vader wanted, no matter how often he’d send his admiral. And it would be nice for a change to leave these rooms or he’d go stir crazy soon.

“Very well,” he said. Luke sat down Emsee, releasing him with a small pat on its metal top. He got to his feet. Piett gestured Luke to precede him through the door. The guards outside stood unmovingly, but without their helmets on, Luke was sure he’d be able to see their sour faces.

“I planned to take you to tour the engine room,” Piett said when they rounded a corner.

Luke raised his eyebrows. “I would imagine that it is classified.”

“It is,” Piett said. “Everything on board is.”

“I doubt that is true for my rooms,” Luke said with a huff.

“On the contrary, it applies especially to everything concerning you.”

“What?” Luke came to an abrupt halt, processing this information. “Does this mean my father doesn’t even know where I am?” he asked slowly.

Piett stopped dead in his tracks, too. He looked very uncomfortable at having said too much. “I never said that.”

“No, you didn’t, but what you said means it.”

“I-“

“They don’t even know I’m here…” Luke repeated quietly. He turned away. It made his heart ache to think his parents had no idea of his whereabouts or how he was. They must be worried sick.

“Please, Highness-”

Luke looked up to regard Piett. The admiral eyed him with a concern he hadn’t seen before in his usually so calm and collected face.

“Oh, don’t think that I would tell on you, Admiral. As you said, you never said anything about this.” Luke said. He started walking again and Piett followed suit. “Yet I can’t help but wonder why that is. It’s not like anyone could mount a rescue.”

“It is possible that the... incident was orchestrated from the outside,” Piett replied evasively.

“Oh please, it wasn’t.”

Piett's head snapped to look at him. “How would you be so sure about that?”

Now it was Luke's turn to wince uncomfortably under the wary gaze. “It's just my feeling,” he said, waiving it off. But he didn’t even sound convincing to his own ears. Way to go, laserbrain.

Predictably Piett didn’t seem very convinced either and he was making no move to let him off the hook. Piett came to a halt and looked at him skeptically. Luke stopped as well, meeting his gaze. He wasn't sure how well he mastered a neutral expression to cover the guilt that crept up. He lowered his voice, so only he could hear him. “You should know, Highness, that I have been tasked with finding your accomplice.”

“My accomplice?” Luke raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t know I had an accomplice.”

“Well, how else would you have gotten your hands on that uniform that was found in your quarters?”

It dawned on Luke what the admiral was thinking. Now their discussion was really headed for dangerous waters. “If you have been tasked with finding out how it came into my possession then surely you have a theory?”

“I don't. Lord Vader insisted that you could not name the supplier of the uniform.”

“Did he now?” Luke said testily. For a moment he considered just telling Piett the truth and let Vader deal with the fallout.

“Listen, Highness. I do not condone what he did, but I urge you not to cover up for whoever is responsible for this. It is only a matter of time until the individual will be identified and you may well share their punishment if you fail to put their names forward,” Piett said in a very serious tone.

“Maybe it was one of the ones trying to rescue me?” Luke said testily. “Why don’t you ask them? But that isn’t possible anymore, is it?”

“It wasn’t any of them. You know that.”

“You seem to be awfully sure that I know who placed the uniform in my wardrobe.”

“I wish I could say that you don’t. But you did know it was there,” Piett said, eying him very closely.

Luke again felt like he was caught, but this time he was better at keeping his face neutral. “I did,” he conceded. “But knowing of its existence and knowing where it came from are two different things.”

Piett gave him a skeptical look. “You should have told me about it.”

“And how would that have changed the outcome?” Luke snapped. But he stopped himself short. He shouldn’t give the admiral reason to doubt him or he’d be fielding his questions forever. “What if I told you that it just turned up? I assure you, I have no friends on this ship. And as you said, Vader asked me about this and he told you himself that I don't know where it came from.”

Piett's expression darkened. “I regret having caused you harm.”

It occurred to Luke that the admiral of course must still believe that Vader had truly punished him for the incident before the parade. He felt uncomfortable at misleading the one person on board that was still friendly with him. “You didn’t, Admiral.”

Piett remained looking unconvinced and maybe that was for the better. As tempting as it was to tell the admiral that he should ask Vader how and why exactly the uniform had come into his possession, Luke was sure this wouldn't end well for him or the admiral.

“Well, if you know who is trying to supply you with the means to escape, I urge you to tell me their names. You have seen what happens otherwise,” Piett said.

“I have indeed,” Luke replied. “I have seen what happens when they are caught. I should not have hesitated.”

Piett frowned. “Hesitated? To get aboard the shuttle?”

Luke made a noncommittal move with his head. He had no desire to discuss what had happened with the admiral.

“You might want to know that the shuttle would not have come far,” Piett said. “An unauthorized launch would have been rapidly contained, if not by this vessel, then by the surrounding ones.”

“Is that supposed to comfort me?” Luke said pointedly.

“I thought... I merely think that you shouldn't blame yourself for what has happened.”

Luke bit his lip. Barely controllable emotions were welling up in him, like they did every time when his mind dragged him back to those horrible moments in the hangar bay.

+++

They had lapsed into silence for a while until Piett looked back at him. “Why did you hesitate?” Piett asked softly, the question not leaving his mind.

“I was a fool to believe the outcome would be different. I shouldn't have.”

Piett's hand twitched, but he quickly aborted an attempt to pat the prince’s shoulder.

They took another turbolift, taking them deep down into the bowels of the ship. It was a sheer endless trek from the bridge tower down to the engine room. Piett pointed out a few features out along their way to break the cloying quiet between them. But as soon as they stepped through the reinforced, blast-proof doors into the main engine room the prince’s face brightened up.

From the corner of his eye he watched the prince’s reaction as he took in his surrounding and was pleased to see that he could impress the boy after all. Lord Vader had been right in his claim that Prince Luke would be interested in seeing the engine room.

Piett could easily understand it. The vast hall which housed the powerful ion drives that drove the vessel forward never ceased to amaze himself. The ceiling was several decks high and if it weren’t for the engine the room could easily accommodate a couple light cruisers. The deep thrum from them that permeated the whole ship was here the strongest, enough to vibrate through the whole body.

Their entrance did not go unnoticed. Piett had shortly before fetching the boy alerted the engine room personnel of their impending visit and the chief technician seemed to have taken this as his cue to have most of his subordinates assemble to meet them. All of them were eyeing their royal visitor with unrestrained curiosity.

Piett threw the prince a concerned glance, but the assemblage didn’t seem to bother the boy. He waited patiently for Piett to introduce him to a handful of officers and technicians. He greeted them amiable and with the graciousness of a royal on an official visit.

“This is the main engine room, housing our Hyperdrive and the sub-light engines of thirteen Executor-“ Piett started as they stepped closer to the parapet securing the elevated control platform to get a better view.

“-50.x engines, I know,” the prince finished. “Acceleration of more than one thousand G and almost as fast as the standard Imperial-class Star Destroyers”

Piett stared at him in surprise.

The prince shrugged. “When the Executor was introduced I read every scrap of information available. I always wanted to see the ship from up close. I guess I got that one coming.”

“An unusual interest given your… background,” Piett said.

“What can I say, I like flying and spaceships and everything about them.”

“Have you never dreamed of pursuing another career?”

“All the time,” the prince giving him one of his rare smiles. “But there is no point to dwell of what-ifs.”

“So? What would you have chosen then?”

“Piloting!” the prince answered as fast as a blaster shot.

The promptness and absolute certainty of the answer made Piett laugh. It was the youthful spirit and enthusiasm that seemed so sorely lacking in the prince, burdened by the hopelessness of his situation. It suited him much better than his carefully collected mask under which he tried to hide his true feelings.

“What kind of ships do you want to pilot,” Piett enquired.

“Snub fighters,” the boy answered almost as fast as his initial response.

“A poor choice, what good is tiny vessel when you could have this,” Piett gestured around the vast engine room.

“Of course you would say that,” the prince said with a lopsided smile.

“I admit that I am biased in that respect.” Piett returned the smile. “So you would sign up for the naval academy?” he asked curious.

The prince’s smile vanished in an instant as he seemed to remember who he talked to. “I considered it. But it is out of the question. Now more than ever.” The boy stared in the distance. “What about you? Did you become what you aspired to be in life?” he turned back to him.

“My home planet and many others as well suffered a lot under pirates and rivaling clans that took whatever they wanted. As long as I can remember I wanted to do something about it.”

“And do you feel you are in a position where you can do something?” the prince enquired. He sounded vaguely doubtful.

“Order is important,” Piett said.

“It is pivotal,” the boy agreed. “But at what cost? At which point do the needs of the many justify taking away the rights of the individual? How should a regime deal with those in opposition?”

“If there weren’t opposition there would be no need for that.”

“There is always opposition, Admiral. Even if a leader has only the best interest of the people at heart. There will always be the disenfranchised and left behind. The mark of a good government is to find ways to deal with this and to better people’s lives regardless of their approval and without resorting to violence.”

Piett listened with astonishment the boy’s passionate and earnest statement. But then the prince’s face fell.

“Apologies, Admiral. I’m wasting your time,” he said with a sad twinge in his voice. “I appreciate you took the effort to take me around, it was a welcome break-” he stopped himself. “I mean, I really enjoyed myself.”

“You certainly have a knack for politics,” Piett said.

The prince turned away from him. “That is kind of you to say. But I should never be trusted with any authority.”

“Why?” Piett frowned at the unusually harsh words of the prince, unsure what had caused this sudden change of mood.

“I am gullible and easily manipulated. Believe me, I am unsuitable for any higher responsibility.”

Piett chose not to answer to this. He couldn’t imagine what had taken the boy to say this. It seemed very unlike a thing for him to say. But even more so, it seemed very much out of place. Not once since meeting the prince, Piett had thought of him as naïve or easy to influence.

+++

With apprehension Luke stepped over the threshold into his quarters. He expected them to be devastated by yet another search. Surely they had taken the time he had so naively followed the admiral around to tear through his rooms and everything in it.

The dimmed lights turned a little brighter at his entrance. Luke gazed around suspiciously. It looked just like he had left it, down to the datapad he had read in the morning still on the table. But there was no sign of the mouse droid.

“Emsee?” he asked into the quiet, bracing himself to see his little droid friend gone. Stars, he shouldn’t have left him behind.

Luke took another few steps and his dread turned into relief as the small droid came speeding from his bedroom. Luke bent to pick it up, but Emsee seemed too excited to see him. The droid circled him, chirping and beeping happily.

“Did you miss me?” Luke grinned. “Boy you have no idea how big the engine room is!”

Emsee beep indignantly.

“Okay, maybe you do know it because you’ve been there before.”

+++

Days passed since his fight with Vader and despite Luke’s dread so far Vader hadn’t so much as contacted him again. He had not trusted it at first, but since the admiral’s first visit, his rooms hadn’t been searched again. And even more importantly, Vader had not moved his battle group anywhere close to the Alderaan system. Luke had remained edgy for days since they had left the orbital dock, jumping up every time the Executor dropped out of Hyperspace and nervously checking where they were. While he still struggled to pinpoint their actual position, he didn’t see a glimpse of the familiar sight of Alderaan or any of the adjoining systems that he knew.

It seemed that Vader had lost his interest in him, after Luke’s final refusal to cooperate. For some reason that thought wasn’t as consoling as it should be. If Vader really had abandoned him, he’d be stuck here for good, left to rot in his little prison with no hope to ever be released. Luke tried to picture his future, how it would be to grow up and grow old forever confined to this set of rooms, the galaxy reduced to the glimpse he had from the viewport. It made him feel like he would suffocate.

He had felt like this a few times before. Before his fight with Vader. But his old escape route through the air duct, which had done wonders if he needed to take a break from the confines of his quarters, remained closed off since he had been returned from the brig. Which didn’t mean he had accepted that at first.

Oh, how he had tried. After he was convinced that no one was coming to inspect his quarters anymore, Luke had put in all his efforts into trying to pry open the hatch. He had spent whole nights perched on top of the tower of chairs he had pushed under the hatch and hacked away at the grid with a metal spoon that he had stolen from a food tray.

In the end he had to admit defeat. Despite his efforts he had achieved nothing in getting the hatch open. All that had stayed from his endeavor had been treacherous scratch marks around it and a nasty ache in his hands.

So he had nothing left but to make peace with his new life aboard. During the day he kept himself busy with exercises or he read through datapads that the admiral was still procuring for him. They had gone from covering military subjects to datapads on flying and engineering, even the occasional novel was among them.

Or he would play with the little droid. Despite vowing that he wouldn’t fall for Vader’s manipulation he had come to hold Emsee dear. It never left his side, day or night. Its antics were helping like nothing else could to chase away dark thoughts and to pass the dragging hours.

The nights were much harder. The dimmed lighting during the night cycle reminded him eerily of his stay in the brig and he couldn’t find peaceful slumber in his bed. He had tried it twice since his first attempt, fresh from the cell but the nightmares had stuck with him. Waking and finding himself in the small, windowless space of the bedroom was more than he could take. So every night Luke dragged cushions and blankets into the living room, setting himself up next to the viewport. There he could watch the stars streaking across or the comforting swirl of Hyperspace until he fell asleep, Emsee powered down at his side.

+++

Chapter Text

+++

Luke opened his eyes and found himself staring at a grey wall. He reared back in shock, for a terrible moment convinced he was back in the small cell.

"No, no..." Luke gulped down air, trying to quench the rush of panic that threatened to overtake him.

But he wasn’t. With a cooler head, he found himself at the same spot on the floor of his quarters where he always slept right in front of the viewport. But there was no viewport anymore. Well, the transparisteel view pane was still the same, but the view into space he used to have was now blocked by heavy durasteel shutters.

Emsee on its resting spot next to him powered up, alerted by his reaction. It let out a series of agitated bleeps, rolling up and down in front of the viewport.

Luke jumped to his feet and rushed to the control panel set into the wall. He punched each and every knob and button on it, even though he already knew by heart which lights he could control with them and which of the buttons were permanently disabled. Of course it didn’t change anything. The shutters remained in place, letting in no glimpse of starlight into the living area. He rested his hand against the cold transparent view pane, biting back a sob.

The last sense of freedom he had, one of the last small mercies he enjoyed. And now it was gone. Just gone.

There could be only one explanation. Vader knew how much he enjoyed, no, needed this. Now he had taken it away to make him suffer more, to-

Luke turned around at a familiar noise and froze as he spotted his visitor. In the doorframe of the main entrance stood Vader. How long had the door been open, how long had Vader been watching him panic?

Luke shook himself out of his surprise quickly. He should have known. First Vader would deprive him of the last thing that made his stay here bearable, then he would come to restate his demands. 

Luke tried to find his composure. He cursed himself that after all the hours he had spent rehearsing what he would throw at Vader should he come back, he now was unprepared, upset and already losing ground fast. Fear flared up in him again. The droid rolled in between them with an angry screech. It bumped against Vader's booted foot, ready to defend him.

Luke drew himself up and he crossed his arms narrowing his eyes. Vader hadn’t moved at all, still regarding him from across the room.

“Is this how you seek to sway me now, Lord Vader? By taking away what little enjoyment I have left?” Luke said, hoping the sharpness in his voice was enough to cover his fear. 

“I had no intentions of upsetting you, your Highness,” he replied evenly.

“Then what is that?” Luke snapped, his patience already spent. He gestured sharply at the closed blinds. 

"They are meant for protection during heavy battles or to prevent oxygen from leaking in the case of damage to the viewports."

Luke hadn’t quite expected this answer. "I doubt we are in a battle."

“No, indeed we are not,” Vader replied with a hint of humor. "There is a different reason for this.”

Luke huffed disparagingly. “Of course there is.”

“Do you wish to know it?”

“I already do. My answer remains the same. I will not help you!” Luke snapped. “Is keeping me locked up in here not enough anymore that you now seek to make my stay here even more miserable?”

“Well it seems unavoidable to keep the door locked since otherwise you would leave.”

“Like I could.” 

“Indeed, the marks around the air hatch would suggest that you have devoted considerable time to affirm this,” Vader said, humor tinting his voice. He gestured up to the ceiling without so much as tilting his own head upward.

Luke felt the color drain from his face. He risked a glance at the hatch where the treacherous traces of his futile attempt at escape were even now faintly visible from this distance. Vader knew. 

“So you are here to punish me,” Luke said, trying to sound flippant; but he wasn’t sure how well he managed to keep the fear out of his voice. Worried he glanced about the room. Would he be able to bring the couch in between them before Vader could reach him? Not that he could ward off Vader for long either way. 

Vader indeed chose that moment to move. But instead of coming closer he took a step backward, raising his hands in a gesture of peace.

“No, Highness. I do not blame you for wanting to leave. Now do you wish to know the reason?” he said, indicating the blocked viewport.

Luke stared at him with great suspicion. What kind of game was Vader playing with him now? Whatever it was, Luke told himself he shouldn't take the bait. He shouldn't let Vader maneuver him to where he wanted him. But on the other hand it couldn’t hurt to taken him up to the offer, could it? At least this way he could steer their discussion away from the more dangerous topic of Luke’s renewed attempts to escape.

“Fine,” he said with as much snide as he managed to put in his voice. "Tell me."

“Very well, come with me,” Vader said. He turned on his heel and marched out of the main door, without waiting for Luke to respond.

"But-" Luke hesitated. He hadn’t expected Vader to take him anywhere. Emsee made a concerned noise.

“Don’t worry Emsee.” Luke bent down and patted the little droid. “I’ll be back,” he promised.

He straightened back up. Vader had already disappeared through the door which stood invitingly open. 

Luke gathered his courage and stepped through it as well. To his surprise the corridor was devoid of any guards for the first time since he had set foot in it. Luke peeked down the hallway. Vader was waiting for him at the very far end. The moment Luke spotted him he turned and disappeared around the corner, his billowing cape the last to disappear from Luke's sight.

Luke frowned. He took another look around. It was eerily quiet, the usual thrum of the ship’s engines muted as it had been while they were docked, indicating the ship was holding its current position. Luke set his jaw and marched off down the deserted hall after Vader, determined not to let himself be intimidated by Vader.

He rounded the corner. Vader already had made it down the next hallway. Again he waited for Luke to catch up with him at the turbo lifts at the end of it. Luke eyed him warily out of the corner of his eye during the short ride on the lift, but Vader stared ahead without addressing him. 

The doors opened again and Vader set off again at a brisk pace. Luke scowled. What was Vader planning, having him tail him through the halls? 

Luke's stepped out the lift and his frown deepened. He knew where they were. This was almost certainly the corridor leading up to Vader's own quarters.

Sure enough, just moments later Vader swept through the large double door leading to his rooms. Luke hung back in the doorway. En route, his intrigue over Vader's behavior and the supposed secret regarding his blocked viewport had taken over, but now he was almost sure that he had fallen prey to Vader's plan to trick him into a training session. 

But Vader was already halfway through the next corridor without slowing down for even a moment. He ignored the door that led into the dueling salle and instead disappeared into another room.

When Luke followed him and took a few tentative steps into the room, the large door behind him shut with a whoosh,making Luke jump. Trapped. As usual, Vader’s quarters were devoid of anyone else. Maybe it was because Vader didn’t want any witnesses of this meeting, though Luke doubted that Vader would ever privately meet with any of his underlings regardless. But today its emptiness felt colder than usual. Come to think, they hadn’t encountered a single soul in any of the corridors. It was like there was no one else on board but the two of them, as if they were drifting through a bizarre dream. It made Luke even more apprehensive.

Luke slowly followed Vader into the room. No blinds covered the viewports here, but Luke couldn’t spot anything out of the ordinary outside. He merely the familiar black of space, lit up with the light of scattered stars. Only muted glow panels set into the wall lit the room and Vader made no move to increase the lighting as he closed the door behind them. Luke furtively glanced around, finally recognizing the room. It was the same office Vader had struck his deal with his prisoner all those long weeks ago.

Luke faced Vader, unnerved by his lack of explanation. “What do you expect me-” he began, but the rest of the sentence stuck in his throat. The Executor was turning slowly on the spot and from the corner of his eye Luke spotted a large object outside the viewport coming into view where before there had only been empty space.

He turned to the viewport fully, all of his demands for answers stuck in his throat. He placed his hands on the transparisteel for support, staring in shock at the massive structure looming outside, the size of a small moon. The star destroyers around it were guarding the structure, which must still be in a vulnerable state of construction. The usually so imposing ships were dwarfed by the battle station's proportions.

He had read and re-read its stats, every scrap of information Vader had chosen to share with him. But a tiny part of him had hoped that it wasn’t real. Or at least not as real as this massive orb of metal floating in front of them built around the deadly, planet-destroying laser.

Palpatine's Death Star.

Luke stared at the battle station. His initial shock was slowly dissipating and he could now see the telltale signs of its unfinished state. The sphere wasn’t perfect yet, but frayed on the edges and surrounded by construction ships. Nevertheless, it looked way too complete for his liking.

He tried to imagine how it must look if it appeared in orbit over an inhabited planet, ready to extinguish any life on it. A horrific parody of a moon, ready to rain down destruction on the Emperor’s whim and spreading fear throughout the galaxy. Luke could see it serve its purpose in quelling any uprising.

+++

His son stood with his back to him, transfixed by the view on the Death Star beyond. Vader watched him from across the room. He brushed against the bond between them as he had done often over the past days in which he had kept his distance from the boy. The bond was still there, but fainter than it had ever been since they had first discovered their relationship. Weakened, but not yet severed.

He could feel the boy’s shock over it, and the distress rolling off him as he faced the inevitable, tangible proof of the Death Star. Vader longed to reach out to him, to offer him at least a token of consolation and closeness. But their proximity invoked in Vader the last time they had been so close. Of the boy trying in vain to bring more distance between them until he was backed into a corner of cold, unyielding durasteel. Vader imagined he could still feel the pulse of the boy's artery pound under his prosthetic fingers as he had closed his hand around his son’s throat.

“How much longer will it take?” Luke asked, breaking through Vader's musings. His voice had lost all its earlier sharpness. With difficulty it seemed, the prince tore his eyes from the looming station outside and turned to regard him. He looked shaken. Even unfinished and inoperable the Emperor’s weapon of intimidation did not fail its intended effect.

“Key elements are still unfinished. It will not be operational for another year at the very least.”

“A year…” the boy echoed softly, looking at the station again.

“It is entirely possible that additional setbacks will delay the progress beyond the set deadline,” Vader said, meaning to reassure. “This is the closest I can take you to it, I will not be able to bring you aboard.”

The boy nodded slowly.

“Apart from the primary weapon, the finished station will have strong a defensive mechanism, a shield tiling ratio of more than ninety six percent. It is equipped with numerous turbolasers, heavy laser cannons and ion cannons. It will also house a sizable complement to defend the base should it be necessary,” Vader continued.

 “The housing of the hypermatter reactor has been installed in the past month, but so far its primary weapon, the super laser is still in developmental stage.”

“How can he order this- this thing,if the laser isn’t even finished yet?” the boy said with disgust in his voice.

“It is only a matter of time. Countless researchers are dedicated to find a solution and failure will not be an option. Recently there have been very successful tests with large Kyber crystals.”

“Kyber?” Luke repeated with a frown.

“They are the same energy sources that power lightsabers, including the one I gave to you. On a larger scale, their properties can be harnessed into a powerful laser weapon.”

The boy nodded slowly, absorbing the barrage of facts he had just learned.

“How is it possible that it can stay secret like that, that the Senate hasn’t heard of it before?” he asked eventually.

“The Emperor has been careful to cover his tracks. The Death Star has been moved several times during its construction to avoid detection by insurgents or nosy senators. This is where its final construction is supposed to take place,” Vader explained. “The system is deep in the Atrivis sector and has scarce traffic. The construction is running heavily on slave labor from the penal colony on the planet it is orbiting so none of the workforce can leave the system to tell anyone of their work and the system is off-limits to anyone but cleared military vessels. The few pirates, smugglers or adventurers that try to use the system as a secret route find that this system is a death trap and are swiftly destroyed.”

“But it’s not finished yet, you say the weapon isn’t operational.”

“That is correct.”

Why don’t you just destroy it with this ship then?”

“It is too well protected, young one.” Vader stepped up to the viewport next to his son. “Do you see the domes on to the station’s poles?”

The boy’s eyes followed the direction he indicated. “I do,” he said.

“They house powerful shield generators. What is more, this is not a battle this vessel alone can win. A full battle squadron including their complement provides protection. There is no way to destroy the Death Star here and now. The only way to stop it from being unleashed on the galaxy is to stop the emperor.”

“You have more ships than just this one,” Luke remarked coolly.

“Indeed, and the Emperor is aware of that, too. He does not trust me either not to have ambitions to commandeer the station which is why I was not allowed to bring any more of my fleet.”

“Doesn't it look suspicious that you travelled here in the first place?”

“No, I convinced Palpatine to send me here. He is most displeased about the construction's recent lack of progress and so he has ordered me to accelerate the work.”

Raised eyebrows met him when Vader turned his head to look at the boy.

“What will you do?” Luke asked testily.

“I will do as my Master commands.”

“How can you-“ the boy started angrily.

"I cannot refuse a direct order, but be rest assured that I will find ways to stall the work instead.”

The boy huffed disparagingly. “Of course you will.”

“You don’t trust my intentions,” Vader stated. The boy was positively broadcasting his distrust. “You have no reason to. Yet you know already enough of the Force to feel the truth. Search your feelings and you will know it to be true.”

The boy set his jaw, eyeing him sternly. But Vader could feel him reach out through the force, probing hesitantly. He had felt the boy practice several times during their separation, but he had always kept his distance, not wanting to push the boy further away from him. So it was surprising how much the boy had progressed without his guidance. His probe was far less wavering than expected. No matter the shortcomings of the boy, the years of missed training, he had control.

Vader felt Luke's tentative probe and made sure to let the boy feel his genuineness and the truth in his promise through the Force. Luke seemed indeed able to sense the truth. His shoulders dropped as he allowed himself to relax a bit.

This was likely as much as Vader could hope for. He took a brisk step closer to the boy, whose tension returned immediately. He took a step back, involuntarily placing himself exactly where Vader had wanted him, boxed in between Vader and the viewport, in full view of the Death Star. Luke watched him with baited breath, his eyes flicking between him and the battle station.

“I wish to apologize for having cause you harm, your Highness. I do not expect you to forgive me,” Vader said. “Yet in light of the current circumstances, I propose to negotiate a collaboration for as long as Palpatine is still alive.”

+++

“Remarkable how much progress they made. It looks almost complete this time round, doesn’t it?”

Piett turned to regard General Veers. “If it were, we wouldn’t have been ordered here,” he said matter-of-factly.

“So he’s over there right now, tearing through command?” Veers eyed the Death Star. Piett turned his attention back to the new battle station as well. They maintained position at ten thousand clicks away, but even from this distance it was an imposing structure.

“I don’t envy them…” Piett said pensively.

Both of them fell silent for a moment. The general was likely contemplating the fate of whoever Vader would hold responsible for the apparent delay, just as he was. It wasn’t often that they were ordered from across their galaxy to pay such visits and Piett was sure that there would be several gashing gaps in the Death Stars command structure by the time they left the system.

“You can always put forward a transfer request once the station is completed.” Veers said, humor in his voice.

Piett huffed. Even the prospect of avoidingVader breathing down his neck could not make him keen on a transfer. If he had needed any more evidence that the Emperor had lost his way of bringing order and peace to the galaxy, it would have been this battle station. Tarkin could preach his doctrine of keeping order through fear all he wanted, but it would not fool Piett. If they wished to threaten with this battle station, they had to be prepared to use it, too.

“By the way, you might want to have this,” Veers said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small bag.

Piett accepted it with a frown. “What is this?”

Veers chose not to answer. He nodded for Piett to open the bag. Piett did and emptied its contents into his gloved hand. A small golden pendant dropped into his palm.

“It belongs to your protégé,” Veers said.

“He’s not-“ Piett stopped himself. He wouldn’t let himself be goaded into the same argument over and over again. “How do you know it’s his?” he asked instead.

“Open it,” Veers said simply.

Piett examined the pendant and pressed the little clasp that held it together. It flipped open and he found himself face to face with three bright smiles. Senator Organa and his wife, the Queen of Alderaan, were beaming back at him from the picture hidden inside the pendant. Both had their hands on the shoulders of a much younger Prince Luke. He too was brightly smiling at whoever had taken the picture, wearing his usual white robes and his hair a fair bit longer than it was now.

Piett had not once seen him smile as happily as in this picture.

“Where did you get that?” he demanded, his voice sharper than he intended. He looked up at the general.

“Funny that you should ask,” Veers said with twinge of annoyance in his voice. “You don’t think I took it from the kid, do you? A few days ago, I interrupted a couple non-coms in the mess at their illegal sabbacc game.”

Piett raised an eyebrow. “Since when have you been one to spoil the fun for the lower ranks, general?”

“Not once. But one of them kept bragging about how he took this from the prince,” he nodded to the pendant in Piett’s hand. “Showed it to everyone around.”

“How did he get his hands on it?”

“I asked him the same question. Turned out he was in charge of the detention center when the kid was delivered there.”

Piett’s expression hardened. He could easily imagine the rest. Unfortunately, there was usually little punishment for embezzling officers if what they took were merely personal belongings of prisoners they were in charge of. It made Piett angry. He could very well remember when he had picked up the prince, who was shaken to his core, from his detainment in the brig.

“Who exactly had it?” he asked.

“Don’t worry, I already took care of him. I had a word with his superior and we both agreed that he is better suited for supervising the sanitation droids.”

“Of course you did,” Piett remarked dryly.

“Anyway, the kid might be happy to get it back,” Veers said.

The general turned and left. Piett studied the pendant again, opening it to see the picture once more. It was such an intimate and informal moment that Piett felt like an intruder seeing it without the prince’s consent, but he couldn’t resist looking at it again.

Odd. It had never struck him before how little the prince resembled his parents with his blonde, unruly hair and bright blue eyes.

+++

Chapter Text

+++

Luke sat in the semi-darkness of his quarters, huddled into the nook of his viewport, staring at the dull grey durasteel still covering it. He hadn’t bothered to switch on any additional light and declined Emsee’s offer to do it for him. He needed to think, about Vader’s offer and about his next steps, and the gloomy light helped him concentrate.

Now that he was back in his familiar surroundings, it was harder to believe what he had just seen. That outside in space, just a short distance away from where Luke was now sitting, the Emperor’s weapon of mass destruction was being built. One year until it would be completed. A single year left for the galaxy to live in the relative peace of the Emperor’s reign until the despot would cement his power by removing all and any opposition with this instrument of terror.

Luke hadn’t had any time to acknowledge Vader’s offer, he had already called their meeting in his office in view of the battle station. Vader had rushed him back to his quarters, Luke still unsure what he should say. Before the door had closed behind him, Vader had told him that Luke needed to decide and, should he accept the deal, come to Vader’s hangar where they usually met for training.

Luke checked the wall-mounted chrono. If he didn’t leave soon, he’d be late. Luke sank back into the nook, trying to make himself a little more comfortable. He stared up at the hatch that lead to the maintenance corridor above. Luke had tried if it would open the moment he was alone, and miraculously it did. Trying not to think too much, Luke had first lifted Emsee through the hole then pulled himself up. At first, it didn’t look any different from when he had been there last.

Luke had set off in the opposite direction of the way he knew led to where Vader would be waiting for him. His earlier explorations through the tunnels would hopefully be enough to now help him escape. His heart pounded, as he rounded the corner; only to find the path ahead of him blocked by durasteel bars. The gaps between them were much too narrow for Luke to even attempt to squeeze through. As Luke examined the bars, he became more and more convinced that these were a new addition.Sure enough, where they were firmly attached to the floor and the ceiling of the small tunnel, the marks left by the welding droids appeared very fresh. Of course. Vader wouldn’t have allowed his prisoner to come up here without taking further precautions. Angered and disappointed, Luke retreated to his quarters. 

Vader’s offer was tempting. But in the end, it was just another of his empty promises, one he had hooked Luke on before. And Luke had sworn to himself not to fall for his cunning father’s manipulations again. This was all how Vader had planned it. Show Luke the Death Star and then leave him alone to make him think and stew on what he had learned. Then demand for Luke to submit himself once more to his teachings in a token of free will. Luke alone would forever feel responsible for the consequences, should he choose to decline the offer. 

Yet a year was also a lot of time. Time for the senate to find out, time for Bail to come up with a solution. If only Luke could send him a message, if he could warn him. Maybe if he’d wait for the next time they’d be allowed to talk on a holo call, then Luke might have his chance. Sure, last time they had been quick to cut the connection as soon as Luke had deviated from the script, but not fast enough. If he was careful to choose what to say and rehearse his words, he would be able to convey enough information for Bail to know what was coming, before the call was inevitably cut. 

But what then? He’d condemn himself to death, Luke was sure of it. And Vader, who had shared all of these secrets with him in the first place, with him. He couldn’t do it. No matter what Vader had done to him and others, Luke couldn’t just sell him out like that.

Luke checked the chrono on the wall once more.It was already well past Vader’s stated deadline. Maybe it was for the best.

+++

Darth Vader finished circling around the newest TIE Advance prototype, which had been delivered to his personal hangar onboard the Executor by Sienar Fleet Systems just in time before they had left for the Death Star’s secret location. Usually he would have have cancelled all other non-essential meetings to devote his time to the new Starfighter and its new improvements, many of which had been his own suggestions. But his usual way of doing things had been done away with ever since the little Prince of Alderaan had been forced to take up residence onboard this vessel.

So it was hardly surprising that the technicians sent by the manufacturer were made nervous by his apparent lack of interest. Vader had only allowed this meeting to calm his own nerves as he waited for the boy to process his offer and to come as he surely would. Perhaps the privilege of inspecting the new TIE prototype together with himself would soften his son somewhat to his proposition. He checked the large shipboard chrono above the main hangar door. It was almost time.

One of the technicians from Sienar spoke up. “My Lord, at your request the new targeting system and improved stabilizators were incorporated and -“

“Leave me,” he dismissed them harshly.

They looked at him, startled. “But, sir-“ one of them dared to say.

“Leave,” Vader growled.

They positively fled, glad to be dismissed before Vader’s anger could destroy them.

Vader turned his attention back to the snub fighter. He stretched out a gloved hand, letting it trail over the angular wing in his reach. He hadn’t flown in space for a long time and the feeling of being stuck threatened to get the better of him. It was one of those traits that made it hard to deny that at least a small part of his younger self’s identity was still living inside of him. He dismissed the urge to take the ship and test its new features. This was hardly the time to engage in mindless distraction.

Time passed. Vader didn’t need to check the chrono again to know that it was already well past the time he had stated to the boy. His son had decided to turn down his offer. He wouldn’t come. Vader shouldn’t be surprised.

The rejection hurt, just as it had the first time. But Vader would not wallow in self-pity. He needed to devise a new plan. It seemed the Death Star was not enough to draw out the prince, but something sure would. Vader turned to leave. Perhaps he could seek guidance from the Force to get a clue on how to win his son back to his side.

Vader was already halfway through the cavernous hangar when movement in his peripheral vision made him look up.

“You have gotten quite adept at cloaking your presence,” Vader said with some pride.

On the small platform overlooking the hangar close to where the maintenance tunnel emerged into his hangar, his son rose to his feet.

+++

Luke stepped onto the deck plates. He hesitated for a moment before he let go of the ladder, quashing his unease. Now that he had come here he was full of doubt whether this was really the right path. Luke set his jaw and turned around to face Vader. He crossed the hangar, stopping at a safe distance away from him.

“I practiced,” Luke said tightly. And practiced he had. Obsessive for hours he had repeated the exercises to shield his mind that Vader had taught him. Never again would he allow Vader to sift through his mind with ease. 

 Vader broke the ensuing silence. “So you have accepted my proposal?”

“I haven’t.” Luke raised his chin. “You offer a deal. Yet while you have plenty of leverage over me, I have no way to ensure that you will uphold your end of the bargain after the emperor is disposed of.”

“I gave you my word to have the Death Star dismantled and not to harm your family or your homeworld, Highness.”

“Your word, yes. How can you assure me that you alter our deal the moment you feel I am not fully committed to your plans to seize power. How can I be certain you won't just dispose of me once I have ultimately lost my value after you have what you want?”

“I do not wish to seize power for my own sake,” Vader denied.

Luke huffed. “I might have fallen for your promises before, but I am not stupid. Your plans to overthrow Palpatine were already long made before you enlisted me.”

“My plans have changed since then,” Vader said.

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Have I ever lied to you?”

Luke opened his mouth to argue the number of times Vader had lied to him, but he closed it again. He wouldn't let Vader pull him into this argument.

“It doesn’t matter,” Luke stated. “That’s what you wanted to prove to me when you showed me the Death Star, isn’t it? The Emperor will destroy Alderaan, so whatever you have to offer is better anyway. Even if you only use me.”

“I have no wish to force you into this,” Vader said. He took a step closer to him. Luke matched the step backward. Vader halted his advance. “I need you to trust me, Luke.”

“You ask too much. Besides, you don’t trust me either. It’s why you thought I had agreed to escape without bothering to listen.”

 “I should not have accused you and first heard you out. I regret what has happened, but I cannot undo what I have done.” Vader said. “I can only assure you that it will not happen again.”

“I suppose you’d consider it my fault since I called you a murderer,” Luke said bitterly.

Vader flinched as if Luke had hit him with a shockball bat. “No, you have every right to call me such. I am the reason you had to grow up without a mother.”

“What?” Luke was caught cold. He felt like an Eopie standing stunned in the headlights of an approaching landspeeder, unable to move. Surely he must have misunderstood. There was an unnatural chill permeating the hangar, terrifying Luke to his core. “You- you killed my mother?” he asked, his voice almost failing him.

Vader turned his back on him. A long silence hung between them. Luke’s brain raced. He did not doubt the truthfulnessof Vader’s confession, but he didn’t know what Vader would do nowthat he had said it out loud. Maybe he was contemplating what steps he needed to take, just as Luke was. Luke gauged the distance to the ladder and to the rack off on the side of the hangar where his lightsaber had usually been waiting for him. Maybe Vader had put it there again, in anticipation of Luke’s acceptance of a training session. But what then? Luke had no hope to defend himself against Vader if he’d truly meant to harm and kill him. Luke still hadn’t made any decision as what to do when Vader spoke again.

“It was at the end of the Clone Wars. Your mother had come to meet me. My former master hid aboard her ship and confronted me. I thought she brought him to me, that she betrayed me. I lost my temper. I choked her. When I had recovered from my injuries I learned she had died and the unborn child with her.”

Luke looked at him wide-eyed, horrified by Vader’s confession. Unbidden the memories of how Vader had unleashed his wrath before came to the surface of his mind. He already had firsthand experience of how Vader’s temper could take hold of him, not stopping until he had sated his boiling anger. Sometimes he could still feel how Vader's hand closed around his own throat, tight enough to warn him how easy it would be for Vader to snuff out his life like he had the admiral’s.

Yet something about this didn’t sound right. The Force moved around him, chasing away some of the coldness. It nudged him gently, prompting him to dig further, despite the horrible images in his mind. He needed to clear his mind of them in order to find the missing piece of the puzzle. Vader certainly believed he had killed both his mother and Luke, but Luke was hardly dead. Something Bail had told him whenever he had recounted him the story of how they had come to adopt him as a baby slipped into his mind. Luke shook his head,

“I don’t believe it,” he said. “You can’t have killed us. My mother must have lived long enough to give birth to me, long enough for her to name me. Bail always said that she chose my name.”

Vader turned back, his masked gazed fixing back on him. “Luke… was the name she had favored if it were a boy.”

“See, then you can’t have killed her.” Luke tried a small smile. “I am proof of that.”

“No, you do not understand. It changes nothing,” Vader snapped angrily. He stepped closer fast, betraying his pent-up tension. Luke eyed him with worry, but he didn’t move back this time determined to hold his ground, “If I would have been by her side I could have saved her. I failed her, I failed you. She would have lived had I been there. You would not have been taken from us, you would have never had to suffer like this.”

Luke approached him cautiously. What a horrible guilt Vader had lived with for as long as Luke was alive. How must he have felt when he had discovered that his son hadn’t died at his hands, was merely hidden all these years? It made it a little easier to understand and to forgive his never-ending jabs and threats towards Luke's adoptive parents. 

“You didn’t fail me,” Luke said, putting as much conviction as he could into his voice and hoping to convince himself as much as Vader.

Vader made a noise which sounded suspiciously like a distorted snort. “You resent me for the situation I have placed you in. I took you from your family. I keep you prisoner here.”

Luke took another step closer to Vader, reaching out with his hand, his fingers tentatively closing around Vader’s wrist as far as he could reach around it. Vader pulled back, but without enough force to dislocate Luke’s cautious grasp. Encouraged Luke stepped closer yet.

“But it’s not you. These are all Palpatine’s machinations. He lied to you. He made you do this. There is still good in you, I can feel it.”

“Then you are a fool. It was too late for me before you were even born.”

Luke pulled Vader’s hand closer, feeling the stiff leather of his glove. “I don’t believe you. My mother had faith in you.”

“She was a fool to trust me, too. She paid for her misplaced trust with her life.”

Luke stared up to Vader, seeing himself look back at him twice in the reflection of the lenses of Vader’s impassive mask.

“Can you… can you tell me about her? Am I at all like her?” he asked. It was a question that had plagued him ever since the day his Bail and Breha had told him the truth about his birth parents. Or at least what they had claimed was the truth. Ever since he had caught himself staring into the mirror, wondering how much of his biological parents was in him, both in looks and in traits.

Vader held his gaze, studying Luke’s face in turn. “She was kind and fierce, strong and brave. Always fighting for those who couldn’t fight for themselves,” he said eventually. “You are very much like her.”

“I wish I’d known her,” Luke said, with a twinge of sadness.

“She… would have loved you very much.” Vader ripped himself loose from Luke’s grip. He brought more distance between them. He paced agitatedly. “All I seek is to protect you from the same fate. I cannot afford to lose you like I lost her.”

Slowly, cautiously, Luke reached out with the Force. To his surprise Vader allowed it. He stopped dead in his tracks and when Luke’s wavering probe brushed against Vader’s Force presence he found his shields for once completely lowered, sharing with him his feelings and thoughts.

“I never meant to escape that day,” Luke said. “I won’t now either, father. I will help you kill the Emperor.”

Luke stretched out his hand, like Vader had done all those months ago, when he had first confronted him with the truth of Luke’s parentage and the existence of the Death Star. He hoped Vader would not notice the slight shaking of his hand. Vader appeared to be taken aback by his move. Time lapsed in which none of them moved.

Vader finally reached out and took his hand in a firm grip. He pulled Luke a stumbling step closer. Alarmed, Luke meant to bring up his hand defense, but he was too slow and ended up squashed against Vader’s armored hulk, his arm trapped between them when Vader pressed him to his chest in a tight embrace.

+++

Chapter Text

+++

Admiral Piett straightened his uniform. He rapped on the doorframe of the door to the small meeting room that had been repurposed as the prince’s dining area. The door stood open, but prince seemed too preoccupied to notice him. He was absorbed in a datapad leaned against the mug on his food tray. Piett cleared his throat.

“Your Highness?”

The prince finally looked up from the datapad.

“Admiral, I didn’t expect you,” he said.

“Apologies for interrupting your meal.”

“Please, your visit is always welcome. It gets lonely to eat without company all the time,” Prince Luke replied. An indignant beep sounded from the floor. “Sorry, Emsee. I meant without human company,” the boy added quickly.

Piett peeked around the table. On the ground, at the prince’s feet, sat the small mouse droid that Piett that delivered here personally in the aftermath of the prince’s stay on the brig and Vader’s inexplicable generous period. It reminded him of that nerve-wracking time. Piett was relieved that Vader had given up hounding his young charge and returned to his cool ignoring of the young prince residing on board. It was healthier this way. For himself, but mostly for the Prince of Alderaan. Piett couldn't fathom the Dark Lord's short lived yet intense interest in the boy, but whatever he had expected in return, Piett was sure that if the prince would have refused it, he soon would have suffered the consequences. 

“I can imagine. You seem very fond of the droid,” Piett said. It was a stark difference form the boy’s pointed disregard of the little droid when Piett had brought it here.

The prince’s open, amiable face fell and he gave him a cool stare.

“So what?” he asked, sounding uncharacteristically defensive. "Will you now take it away again?"

Piett raised his hands reassuringly. “That is not what I am here for. Why do you think it would be removed again?”

“It’s not like I can't hear the guards demand for Emsee to be removed.”

“I assure you, Highness. No one will remove the droid from your quarters. If anyone attempts to do so, inform me.”

The prince relaxed marginally.

“In fact, I came to give you something.” Piett held out the small parcel. “It’s not a present, it is yours anyway. But it was taken from you wrongfully.”

The prince eyed the parcel with interest now. He took it, and opened it. The small pendant fell into his hand, freshly cleaned and the defect locking mechanism repaired, courtesy of General Veers who had taken it upon himself to track down a mechanic on board with the required skillset to repair such a delicate object.

The prince looked at it with disbelieve. “I… I didn’t think I would see it again. Thank you,” he said, visibly moved.

“There is no need to thank me. In fact, I wish to extend an apology to you. It shouldn’t have been taken from you in the first place. You might want to know, that the one responsible for taking it has been reprimanded and relieved of his duty.”

Prince Luke closed his fist around the small pendant. 

"I imagine that it is of great personal value to you," Piett said.

The prince looked at him, eying him with a slight frown. “You opened it,” he stated. It was not a question. 

Piett hesitated, but he couldn't bring himself to lie to the boy. “I did. Apologies, Highness. I shouldn’t have done so.”

“No offense taken, Admiral,” Prince Luke reassured him.

The prince stood up from the table. Piett eyed the plate on the tray. Maybe an old habit from the early days of the prince's captivity. 

"You haven't had much," he said, seeing the half-finished meal. 

The prince followed his eyes. "I had enough, thank you," he said. The mouse droid at the boy's feet whistled. "Oh, don't give me that," the prince said, looking down to it. "I admire your ability to eat this tasteless stuff for years," he said, turning back to Piett.

"I admit that it isn't the best food in the galaxy, but there is worse." Piett followed the boy into the living area, careful not to step on the mouse droid sticking close to the prince's heels.

"Trust me, I know," the prince remarked.

Piett's eyes fell on the full-length viewport, showing the dense star field of the Halthor sector where Death Squadron was currently assembled. The distinct shape of the Death Star was now lightyears away and maybe it was the best that the prince had been spared the view on the battle station. But surely the boy had noticed the temporary block of his viewports. Piett gestured toward the viewport.

"Sorry for the inconvenience caused by the maintenance works blocking your view in the past days."

"Maintenance works?" the prince queried. His eyebrows arched up and he sounded vaguely skeptical. "It was no bother at all."

Piett nodded. "I will take my leave then, your Highness." 

He made his way to the door. From the corner of his eyes he could see the prince's attention dragged to the pendant. The boy opened it to look at the picture inside. It reminded Piett of the many times he himself had looked at the picture, every time more taken aback by the lack of familial likeness between the crown prince and his parents. Curiosity finally got the better of Piett.

“Um… If I may take the liberty, can I ask you something?”

“Of course." The boy looked up with a half-smile.

“I saw the picture inside the locket," Piett said. "I… I couldn’t help but notice that… well, you don’t really take after your parents, do you?”

The prince’s open and friendly expression vanished with the speed of lightning. The prince's posture was rigid. “I am afraid my resemblance to them is in character and attitude only,” he said coolly, his jaw set.

“I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-“

“Didn’t mean to question my legitimacy and the faithfulness of my parents?" the boy snapped. He looked genuinely hurt and offended. "You aren’t the first to do so, Admiral, and I am sure you won’t be the last, but you will excuse me if I elect not to-“

The door to the prince's quarters opened, cutting the prince short as he spotted the new arrival.

In the door stood Darth Vader. Piett had no idea what Vader was doing here. To his knowledge the Dark Lord hadn't been here more than a handful of times since the prince had been moved into these quarters. Most of these times he had set out to punish the boy or to inspect the security upgradings on the empty quarters after the prince’s nearly successful escape. His appearance now couldn’t bode well.

"Explain yourself, Admiral," he rumbled.

Piett's brain worked furiously, but there was no use to lie. "I- I returned a personal item of his Highness that erroneously was taken away," he said, keeping it as general as he could in the hopes of deflecting Vader's interest in the boy's family heirloom. 

"I see," Vader said. He tilted his head. His masked gaze honed in on the small pendant in the boy's hands with unwavering accuracy and Piett's heart sank. So much for that attempt. Vader straightened up and crossed his hands behind his back. He faced Piett. "You will not talk to the prince again without my explicit permission and order."

Piett could feel the color drain from his face.

“I- my Lord-"

"You are dismissed, Admiral,” Vader said, his voice leaving no room for arguments.

Piett glanced at the prince who kept up a show of being collected and unfazed at the prospect of being left alone with that human shaped Krayt dragon. He should help the prince especially when Vader was in such a foul mood. Seconds ticked by and Piett thought he could almost feel Vader's patience run out. He had to cede the battle. Piett saluted his superior and left, quashing down on his unease.

+++

“He will not bother you again, Highness,” Vader said when the door had closed behind Piett.

“He didn’t bother me," Luke said, feeling the urge to defend the admiral, despite what had just occurred between them.

"For that you look remarkably bothered," Vader remarked. 

"It's just.... He… I think he suspects that I was adopted.

"What?" Vader snapped, making Luke jump. "What makes you think that?"

"He gave me my pendant back. And asked me why I don't resemble my parents more."

A sharp tug on the pendant made Luke lose hold of it. Luke fumbled to catch it again, but it soared through the air out of reach and into Vader’s outstretched hand.

"Hey, don't-" Luke protested. "Give it back!"

Vader ignored his outrage. He inspected the locket, turning it over in his gloved hands.

“What is this?” 

Luke crossed his arms. "It's mine. It belongs to my family."

"Then why did the admiral have it?” 

"It was taken from me the day… the day I was brought to the detention cell." Luke bestowed a reproachful glance at Vader, but it seemed unnecessary. At the mention of the events of that fateful day, Vader straightened up like had been stung by a blood beetle. "I didn't think I'd get it back, but then-"

Vader didn't seem to listen. "Who took it from you?" he asked. Luke shuddered as the temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees.

“I don’t know," Luke replied, annoyed by the inquisitive tone. "Not like any of the guards introduced themselves to me.”

For Vader made a half turn, ready to leave Luke standing where he was.

"Don’t go after them. The admiral already mentioned he instigated disciplinary measures."

Miraculously Vader was held back by his words. Instead he focused his attention back to the locket in his palm. Vader pressed the little clasp on the side and it sprang open. Vader studied the picture inside for long moments. Luke held his breath, dreading Vader's reaction at spotting Bail and Breha. He was sure that Vader would seize and destroy it. There was no way Vader would allow him to keep this reminder of Luke's upbringing.

"How old were you when this picture was taken", Vader asked finally, his voice tight.

Luke frowned, trying to remember the occasion. "I think I was about thirteen, maybe fourteen," he said.

Another taught silence stretched.

"You… look happy in it," Vader said eventually, tearing his gaze from the picture in the locket. He closed it briskly and stretched out his hand to give it back to Luke.

Luke held out his hand and Vader dropped the pendant into his palm. It was probably nicest thing Vader could bring himself to say about a picture of Luke being with by his adoptive parents.

"It is troubling news that the admiral is suspicious of your descent," Vader said. "I will deal with him before such knowledge can spread." He half turned for the door again and Luke had a sense of foreboding.

"No, please don’t," he said. "Leave him alone."

"The Emperor has spies everywhere. If word of this reaches him and he decides to investigate, the truth may come out and your life would be in great danger."

"I'm sure he'd never tell anyone. And it’s not like suspecting that I was adopted is the same as knowing of my true parentage."

"You ought not to be too trusting, little one," Vader said, his finger raised at Luke. 

"And you ought not to scold me for a character trait that you yourself profit the most from."

Vader's breathing hitched. "So that means you trust me?" Vader asked.

Luke paused, unsure how to answer. "I- I guess so," he said. "I have no choice but to trust you."

Vader eyed him. "I strongly recommend taking action against the admiral before he has the chance to betray your confidence and secret," he eventually said. Luke wanted to argue against him, but Vader continued. "However, I will refrain from it, if you so wish."

"Then don't, please."

"Very well, as you wish, Highness" Vader abruptly changing the topic. "I have a lesson for you, if you are not preoccupied."

"And with what would I be busy with," Luke said, sarcasm. "It is not like I have so much to do. Especially after you have ousted the only other person who ever talked to me from my quarters."

"I will speak to the admiral."

"But you said-"

"I will tell him that he may visit you on occasion to improve your mental constitution."

"My mental- what?" Luke flustered. "And what do you mean by that?"

Vader reached for his belt to for a lightsaber hilt. He held it out to Luke. "You are easily riled up, young one."

Luke glared, but accepted the hilt. "Is it wise to train inside here?" he asked. "It's so constrained."

"Exactly. In a fight in close quarters you won't be able to make use of your advantages of being faster and nimbler. We shall work on that," Vader said, reaching for his own lightsaber.

Luke gave a determined nod, wrapping his fingers around the hilt. It had been a while since he had held it last and it felt good to feel the familiar hilt again. "I'm ready."

+++

Chapter Text

+++

Luke lightly jumped the last few steps of the ladder onto the hangar bay floor. He turned to smile at his father, waiting for him. They had trained almost every day, Luke’s determination to learn and make up for the time lost was renewed and driving him on as much as Vader’s demands. Vader had his back turned to Luke. Luke reached out with the Force.

Something was different today. His father’s presence felt clouded and cold. Luke stopped dead in his steps. His smile fell. “What is wrong?” he asked cautiously. 

Vader turned to him and regarded him for a moment, only the measured breathing of his respirator cutting the silence, and it made Luke feel uneasy. 

“The Emperor has made contact,” Vader finally said, and Luke’s feeling of trepidation doubled. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good for them.

“What does he want?”

Vader seemed hesitant to tell him.

“Please, tell me,” Luke pressed on. At Vader’s silence his agitation only increased, morphing into actual fear. Something was wrong.

“He… sees fit to punish Organa,”Vader stated hesitantly.  “You need to leave.” 

“Leave? What… how?”

“I have arranged for you to escape in a shuttle, piloted by a defector. He will take you to a secure location until-“ 

“No, I can’t leave!” Luke said quickly, taking a step forward. “This is contradicting everything we have worked for. Besides Palpatine would punish you if you’d let me escape. And he’d go after my family if he has no more leverage over me.” 

“I will not be able to shield you from this,” Vader said. “You must leave.” 

“I refuse to,” Luke said determined. He stood up to his tallest, his head raised at his still much taller father. “I’m not happier about this than you are! But there’s no other way. I will take the punishment and we will continue.” 

Vader stared at him for a long moment. “I will not hurt you, little prince.” 

“You have before,” Luke argued fervently. 

“No, Luke. This would be different. You have no idea what lies in store for you.” 

Luke swallowed, thinking. He really didn’t know what this punishment would entail, but he was determined. His adoptive father and tutors had often said that he had a strong head and once he had made up his mind he would do it. “I will go through with it,” he said. “I can take it.” 

“No, I do not allow this. You will leave within the hour, and-” 

“I’m not. You can’t make me leave,” Luke raised his chin. 

“I most assuredly can, Highness,” Vader replied dryly with a hint of impatience in his dark voice. Luke scowled at him. 

He crossed his arms defiantly. “I will not run from this.” 

Vader paused, letting his hands fall to his side, his posture making him look dejected. “I cannot hurt you.” 

Luke reached for his father’s hand, grasping his right hand. “You promised to trust me, father.” 

He looked up at Vader’s mask, hoping that he managed to meet his father’s eyes behind the opaque lenses. "Trust me now."

+++

Vader waited impatiently until the guard had keyed in the code to open the door to his son’s quarters. It slid to the side with a faint hiss. Vader motioned the escort that had accompanied him there to wait outside and stepped over the threshold. The door behind him closed.

Luke stood by the viewport, his hands clasped behind his back, gazing out into space. He turned around at Vader’s entrance. The boy looked like he had barely slept and he was paler than usual.

“Is it time?” Luke asked, his voice quieter than normal.

“It is,” Vader said.

Luke looked him in the eye. He was projecting a façade of calm resolve, but Vader could see in the tension of his muscles underneath how afraid he was. Luke nodded.

Vader looked at him, seeing his son’s unwavering resolve, his resignation as he prepared to meet his fate with dignity, when he should never have had to bear such a burden in the first place. Yet his choice was hardly a surprise. The boy’s mother, at the same age, had harbored the same courage.

“Take this.” Vader held out a hand. Luke frowned, but stretched out his hands. Vader dropped two tablets of a strong tranquilizer into his son’s palm.

“What is it?” Luke eyed the two white pills with suspicion.

“Take them,” Vader said without elaborating.

“You won’t tell me what it is and expect me to take it?”

His son’s reaction was understandable, but it couldn’t be helped. Vader had spent the night devising a plan that would save his son as much pain as possible, and for it to succeed, it was crucial for Luke not to know too much. His master would be watching every moment closely and Luke’s reaction was critical for the success of the whole operation.

“You asked me to trust you. Now you need to do the same,” Vader said.

Luke stared at him warily. Vader was sure his son would refuse, when Luke turned on his heel. He picked up a glass of water from the table in front of the couch. Without further protest, Luke downed the pills.

“Remember to breathe calmly,” Vader said. “I will watch over you.”

Luke nodded again.

+++

Luke fell into step behind Lord Vader, the escort of troopers sticking close to his heels.

Even if Luke hadn’t been warned what was to come, he’d have sensed that something was wrong when he was led into the room housing the holosuite. It was the same room where he had been allowed to talk to his adoptive father on the holocom before, which Luke supposed made sense. His father had mentioned that Bail was to watch his ordeal. Luke just hadn't thought it would be this live. His nerves fluttered. He eyed the number of officers and troopers posted around the room with unease. 

Yes, he had agreed to this but knowing it would happen didn’t help in quashing his apprehension. Luke raised his chin, determined not to show fear.

“Again? And what do you want me to tell my father today?” he snapped in Vader’s direction. 

Vader turned to regarded him. “You are mistaken if you think this will be like the last time you were allowed to speak with the viceroy, Highness.” Vader said coolly, before he turned his back on him. “Prepare him!” Vader ordered and some troopers sprang into action. 

Luke stiffened when rough hands grasped for him. “Don’t. Touch. Me,” he snarled. Luke struggled in vain against the men restraining him; but he couldn’t stop them from twisting his arms behind his back to fix them there with a pair of binders.

Luke glared at Vader who merely turned dismissively from him, leaving his men to deal with his prisoner. Luke struggled against their grips, but then opposite of Vader the holo lit up with a blue-tinted, life-sized image of his adoptive father. Luke tensed.

“Lord Vader,” Bail said, his voice full of righteous anger. “I demand my son to be returned to Alderaan immediately.” 

“You ought to be more careful with your demands, Senator. Your recent disregard of the Emperor’s guidance has left him questioning your good sense of judgment.” 

Bail’s next comment seemed to have stuck in his throat as he processed the open threat. Luke watched him with baited breath. His adoptive father looked confused. He appeared unaware of what had incited the Emperor’s anger. 

“He has therefore decided to give you a reminder that the crown prince will pay for your missteps,” Vader continued. “The Emperor thinks it is beneficial for you to witness a sample of what will happen if you continue to spread discord and unrest.”  

Vader reached out a hand in Luke’s direction and Luke tensed. “Bring him!” 

The troopers roughly manhandled Luke into the projection field and Vader grasped the front of his tunic with a tight grip, pulling him closer. Luke raised his head to greet and reassure his adoptive father who looked shocked at seeing Luke bound and dragged into view by force.

But he had barely time to open his mouth when Vader made a swift movement and with a surprised gasp Luke was swept off his feet. He landed hard on his knees. Luke blinked in confusion at the unexpected rush of dizziness the change of position had brought, so he missed the next few words of the conversation. He blinked to chase away the clouds fogging his vision.

Luke looked up, setting his jaw defiantly and determined to at least bring out a greeting. Yet he hadn’t even opened his mouth to say something when Vader reached for him and took firm hold of his hair, pulling uncomfortably on his strands. Luke winced in discomfort. 

“You have been warned time and again, Senator, yet you seem unable to act accordingly.” 

“Lord Vader, please, this isn’t necessary, Luke has no part in whatev-” 

“That is where you are wrong. Your son-,” Vader spat out the word. “-will pay dearly for your mistakes. I suggest you be more careful about your actions in the future.” 

Tears watered Luke’s eyes as Vader’s gloved hand in his hair grasped him more firmly, pulling him up. Luke mustered all his composure. He would brave this. He tensed when he heard an outraged outcry from Bail just as something connected with his thigh for the first time. A sharp bolt of energy blasted through his body, bringing searing pain, and his vision whited out momentarily.

Luke screamed, louder than he thought was possible. He was unable to remain quiet. It was just too much. His muscles spasmed, making him twist and turn futilely in Vader’s tight grasp for what felt like eternity. Then the pain abruptly stopped. Luke pulled in air past protesting ribs, trying to regain his composure. He focused on his father’s heavy boots.

Dimly he could hear Bail’s voice, sounding furious, and Vader’s deep baritone answering. But he couldn’t understand what they were saying over the persistent ringing in his ears. A moment later Vader pressed the tip of the torture instrument into his thigh for a second time, making his body convulse. Another scream tore at his vocal cords. 

Vader repeated this procedure again and again. Luke lost count of how many times the current had ripped his body apart. Every time the pain subsided between the attacks, Luke focused on his breathing, hoping to regain at least an ounce of self-control. But it was becoming increasingly hard to even keep the floor in front of him in focus. Luke lost all sense of time, maybe his ordeal had lasted hours already or had been mere moments. 

+++

“Please, Lord Vader. I beg you. Leave him.”

Vader ignored Organa’s distraught pleading and pushed the tip of the force pike back into Luke’s leg. He watched Luke thrash and listened to his pained screams. Vader hated himself with every fiber of his body for inflicting this anguish upon his only son and he hated Palpatine even more for it.

The Dark Side filled the room, thick and potent, fueled by Vader’s hatred and Luke’s agony. A swirling mass of darkness, almost enough to extinguish the boy’s light that was already muted by pain and the effect of the drugs. Even the officers and guards around them weren’t impervious to it. Vader could feel their discomfort at the boy’s undeserved punishment.

Vader retracted the force pike to allow Luke some respite. The only thing that kept the prince from falling face forward to the floor was Vader’s hand still curled into the boy’s hair, forcing him upright. It might appear to the onlookers as deliberate cruelty, but it was necessary to conceal that Luke was much weaker than he should be by any right.

Vader hefted the force pike again, delivered by order of his Master. Palpatine had insisted that Vader use the ceremonial weapon of his royal guards to punish the prince. On many occasions, Vader had witnessed the Royal Guards using them to torture his Master's victims, while Palpatine sat cackling on his throne, watching them wither and scream.

Many hadn't survived the ordeal.

Even at its lowest setting, reserved to inflict excruciating pain, a force pike was still strong enough to damage vital organs and muscle tissue beyond recovery. Something Vader had to protect his son from at all costs. So he had spent the night that was left devising a plan.

Dosing Luke up with a potent tranquilizer to ensure the session wouldn't last long had been only part of it. Vader had spent hours modifying the force pike to lower its power discharge even further. He had tested it against himself thoroughly until he was certain that it couldn’t injure Luke. He carefully aimed it for his son’s thigh, far away from vital organs, and he ensured sufficient pauses in which the boy could catch his breath.

But there was little more he could do for his son to help him through this torment, who was taking it with bravery beyond his years. Though the Force, Vader could feel his determination even after he had been shaken at the first onslaught of pain, unprepared for the rigors of torture as Vader had known he would be.

Vader could also feel the confusion emanating from the boy at the increasing dizziness clouding his mind. Vader sent waves of reassurances through the Force, in the hopes of helping Luke to find a trance-like state. There were no barriers around the boy’s mind, no resistance met him as the boy was too drowsy to even notice. Luke hadn’t lied when he had proclaimed to trust Vader. Vader doubted that his son could measure how much that meant to him.

It didn’t take long until the boy was exhausted, both by the unrelenting punishment and heavily dazed from the tranquillizer working through his system.

Vader tore his gaze form the panting youth at his feet and regarded Organa. The viceroy stood ashen faced, his hands curled into tight fists. His show of arrogance and disdain from when he had stepped into the reception field of the holocom had vanished the moment he understood what would happen. But no cry for mercy or bargaining would help, the punishment was to be dealt out. The Emperor was watching.

Vader should feel pleased at making the man who had stolen his son from him suffer. He would, if it wasn't at the expense of his precious child, kneeling at his feet gasping for air between the brutal assaults.

Luke hung now passively in his grasp, barely aware of his surroundings. Vader deemed it enough. Considering the visibly sorry state the prince was in, Vader could otherwise risk permanently damaging the valuable hostage. He let the boy’s blonde tuft go and Luke unceremoniously toppled over. Bail Organa gasped in shock.

“I trust, Viceroy, that you now understand the consequences of your behavior better,” Vader sneered.

For once in his life, Organa had no biting remark left for him. He nodded dutifully, his eyes fixed on the prone form of the boy lying where he had slumped to the floor at Vader’s feet. Worry contorted his face, mirroring Vader’s own feelings. It took all the enjoyment Vader should garner from seeing the man lowered like that.

“Good, you would do well to keep in mind that the prince requires only little recovery to withstand more of the same,” Vader said. “I am willing to repeat this until you have fully grasped the situation you and your family find yourself in.”

Maybe Organa would understand the disguised reassurance in the dire threat that Luke was largely unharmed and would recover quickly.

Bail Organa hastily stumbled assurances of his compliance. He looked ready to fall to his knees to lick Palpatine’s boots, would Palpatine just demand it, all to save the boy more pain.

With a tendril of the Force, Vader cut the call. In his anger, he crushed the holosuite’s control unit. It crumbled with a crack. A cloying quiet filled the room after the sound had died.

Vader ordered the prince to be locked up and swept from the room without sparing the boy on the floor a single glance, but his attention in the Force was focused solely on his son. His heartbeat was strong, his breathing had largely normalized and, judging by the cloudy sensation he received when he reached out to touch the boy’s mind, Luke was barely aware of anything happening around him.

+++

Luke blinked, confused at finding himself lying flat on the floor. His was cheek pressed against the cold flooring. He had no recollection of how he had ended up in this position. Distantly, over the rush of blood in his ears, he heard Bail and Vader talk again. Luke didn’t even try to move. In the glossy tiles, he could see the distorted blue reflection of the holo until suddenly it vanished. 

This was it. It was over.

“… return the boy to his quarters.”

Vader’s deep voice managed to pierce through the rush in his ears to Luke’s fuzzy brain. The fabric of his father’s cape brushed over the length of his body. Even the gentle touch of the cloth made his nerves feel like they were on fire. Vader swept from the room, leaving him lying where he was.

Hands grasped for Luke and he was pulled up. The movement sent a jarring blast of pain down his spine, making him gasp. Pieces of conversation registered with Luke.

“…your Highness?”

“Stay with us...”

A bright light was flashed in his eyes and Luke pressed them shut.

“Be careful,” someone cautioned. “He's not looking too good.”

Luke blinked when the light was turned off, but the blob of drab color in front of him who had spoken refused to swim into focus. The cuffs still holding his hands behind his back were released and his arms were draped over the shoulders of two tall troopers to support his weight. Luke tried, but found that his legs could not support his weight so he sagged in the grip of whoever was holding him up.

He was more tired than he had ever been in his entire life. Without resisting, Luke hung in the grasp of the troopers, his toes barely touching the ground. His head lolled on his chest, but lifting it seemed too much of an effort. So kept his gaze fixed on his feet. He supposed he wasn’t looking very dignified on their track down the ship but it didn’t matter.

He had made it.

+++

Vader strode through the ship in search of a way to cool his temper. Nothing short of murdering his Master would really do. But that was impossible and his Master remained out of reach. For now.

Vader entered his quarters, heading straight for his dueling salle. With a command through the Force, he activated five training droids at the same time. They advanced on him rapidly and he raised his lightsaber in time to meet the first blade aimed for his neck.

In mere minutes, he had reduced all of them to shrapnel such was his fury. Vader paused. It had gone as well as Vader could have hoped for, if that word could ever be used for what he had done to his own son. It would sate his Master’s desire to punish the Organas, saving the prince from further repercussions in the near future.

Vader tried to release his anger into the Force, but he had to give up the useless attempt. Instead, busied himself with cutting the fragments of the destroyed dueling droids into even smaller pieces.

+++

Luke had been dumped unceremoniously on his bed. He felt incredibly sore, exhausted, and cold. Luke wished he could summon the strength to turn around or at least cover himself with a blanket, but it was too much effort. Nor could he bring himself to care that he was alone in the suffocating bedroom. Luke buried his face in the cool linen.

Despite his fatigue, sleep refused to come to him. Adrenaline was still pumping through his body, keeping him awake as it battled the drugs that wanted to carry him off to blissful oblivion. Luke drifted between delirious waking and moments of uneasy sleep.

He must have dozed off after all, because he was startled awake again at a tugging sensation on his leg. His body was jostled and pain flared up along his spine. Luke attempted to gather his remaining strength, to turn and face whoever had intruded his room.

“Calm down, young one.”

His father’s voice sounded dark and rich in the small room. Luke slumped, too exhausted to resist anyway. Vader pull off his boots then cradled Luke in his strong arms. Luke was turned over on his back.

“You have done well,” Vader said.

Luke smiled weakly at the pride and worry lacing Vader’s mechanical voice. His father brushed a hand over Luke’s forehead, the cool leather of the glove soothing against his hot skin.

Vader produced a water container and held it out to Luke. Luke reached for the bottle, but his hands were shaking badly and he failed to get a strong enough grip on it. Instead Vader placed the bottle on Luke’s lips and tipped the container.

Luke sipped the cool, fresh water. It tasted sweet and soothed his raw throat.

“Are you in pain, little one?” Vader queried.

“No, I’m fine,” Luke croaked, his voice hoarse, reminding him of his own screams that still occasionally echoed through his head as if he was listening to a badly out of tune holodevice. But when Vader took hold of his shoulders and helped him up, the movement sent more sharp pain through his body. His father carefully propped him up against the soft pillows and sat down at the bedside.

He could feel flaring anger from his father.

“You are angry,” Luke stated quietly.

Vader met his gaze. “As you should be,” he said. “I have tortured you.”

His father took Luke’s hand, squeezing it.

“It was necessary,” Luke said, uncomfortable at his father feeling guilt over what had happened. “And I had given consent to it.”

Vader let go of his arm balling his hand ina tight fist. “You shouldn't have needed to.”

“What was the reason for this? Why did he order it?” Luke asked.

“Organa openly supported a petition of the Chandrilan senator to replace the local governor.”

Luke frowned. “That seems… rather petty,” he said, his voice still a hoarse rasp.

“The Emperor wanted to make a point. A major senate gathering is approaching and he wanted to ensure Organa’s silence. The senator has provided little other reason to deal out punishment,” Vader said. “The Emperor was most pleased with this little show of… chastisement.”

Luke nodded, feeling relieved. This meant they were save for now.

“How did Bail take it?” he asked quietly. The thought of deliberately upsetting his adoptive father pained him and he wished he could tell him he was fine.

“He mustn’t know, little Prince,” Vader said, picking up on his thoughts. “He was very worried for you. I reassured him that you have not taken permanent damage.”

Luke raised his eyebrows. “Wouldn’t that be suspicious?”

“I told him that you would be available to repeat the procedure after a short recovery should he required further convincing.”

Luke winced. “I can’t imagine he took that well…”

“He was angrier than I have ever seen him. I should be glad he considers himself a pacifist,” Vader remarked dryly.

Luke smiled at the notion of Bail going after Vader with a stun blaster, the only weapon his father ever accepted to carry. Though maybe he would make an exception for the man who had tortured his only son. Luke looked around his dimly lit bedroom. The dark form of Lord Vader seemed oddly out of place in here.

“You’ve never been in here,” Luke said.

“Not while you were awake,” Vader replied.

Luke gaped, incensed. His father ruffled his hair affectionately at Luke’s chagrin. Vader adjusted the blankets around Luke, then he placed both hands on Luke’s chest.

“What are you-“

A calming, warm sensation spread from Vader’s hands into his body. It washed over Luke and chased away the dull ache in his bones. Luke could feel the Force sooth his damaged tissue and his protesting limbs and joints.

Luke felt his connection to Vader deepen, stronger than it had ever been before. Luke reached back with the Force, sharing his thoughts and feelings with his father. Vader’s mind responded to Luke’s and Vader offered up memories that weren’t Luke’s. In his mind, Luke could see a house by a tranquil lake, a landscape of green hills and the vast emptiness of a desert, barren yet peaceful.

Soon, too soon, Vader broke contact again, and the flow of the Force was broken. Yet the feeling that remained was leaving Luke whole and content.

 “You need to sleep now, little Prince. I will have a medic look after you in the morning,” he said, his hand brushing over Luke’s forehead. Luke wanted to protest but he could feel his father’s presence swell and fill the room around them. A simple command reverberated through Luke’s mind and his very self.

Sleep.

Luke fought against the wave of tiredness about to overwhelm him. He didn’t want Vader to leave him. But with the exhaustion in his body and his father’s strength, he lost the battle rapidly. Dimly he was aware of Vader tucking the blanket around him and resting his head more comfortably against the pillows.

+++

Chapter Text

+++

Admiral Piett dreaded in what constitution he would find the prince. He hadn’t been personally present to witness what had happened, but he had heard more than he wanted to know. The Emperor had finally made good on his threat and Vader had tortured the Prince for the boy’s father to witness over the holocom. The prince had been dragged back to his quarters in a sorry state and unable to walk on his own.

Vader had shown the boy no mercy.

All the more, Piett had been surprised to receive the order from Vader this morning to have a medic check on the boy. He had wasted no time in fetching the chief medical officer of the Executor , determined to make this potentially only time the prince would be allowed treatment count.

The man had been visibly annoyed by the request to check on a patient outside the comfort of his medbay and realm of influence, but after some arguing and explanations, he had packed a GH-1 medical analysis droid to maximum capacity with equipment. It followed them into the waiting turbo lift.

“Sir, I will need further information about my patient.”

“Ah, yes. You will have to keep this confidential, but I have compiled some information about him here.”

Piett handed him a datapad. The man skimmed through the contents, his frown deepening the further he got.

“Human, sixteen standard years.” The medic looked up. “Sixteen?”

“Yes.”

“And they used what exactly against him?”

“A SoroSuub Controller FP force pike,” Piett supplied, hoping that his own disapproval wasn’t showing in his voice.

The medic looked supremely indignant. “I am familiar with the model. In this case, I strongly recommend moving the patient to the medbay immediately, regardless of the outcome of my examination. The medium and long-term effects of force pikes on even healthy, adult specimens are unpredictable and-”

“That is not possible,” Piett said.

“He is my patient.”

“First of all he is Lord Vader’s… charge, and Lord Vader decreed that he must remain in his dedicated quarters.”

The turbolift stopped and they emerged into the corridor leading to the boy’s area. While they waited for the door to be unlocked, Piett thought it wise to raise a sensitive subject with the medic.

“Listen, the patient is the crown prince of Alderaan and as such has to be addressed with respect and his due title. You will find however that he is quite friendly and cooperative-“ Piett began.

The door hissed open and revealed the prince. He was strolling over to his couch, the little mouse droid at his heel as usual. He stopped in his tracks and turned his head at the opening door to regard his visitors. Piett could hear a sharp intake of breath from the man next to him.

“What do you think you are doing?” the medic thundered without preamble, no trace of any of the requested deference in his voice.

The prince stood comically frozen in his tracks. “I… uh…”

“Why are you not in bed?”

“I- I don’t need to-“ the prince stuttered.

“Yes, you do. You will immediately go to bed and stay there.”

The prince threw a look at Piett, pleading for help and Piett tried unsuccessfully to stifle his grin.

“But I’m fine-” the boy argued, trailing off as the man bore down on him. Up close Piett could see the veins on the man’s neck swell.

“You are not . If I find you out of your bed again, there will be dire consequences.”

The boy looked stunned. The sharp command tone managed to startle a “I… um, yes, sir," out of him.

Piett failed spectacularly at hiding his grin. What consequences the medic was thinking about he couldn’t say, but the empty threat seemed to impress the boy enough. He hung his head and trotted into his bedroom. The man followed closely, ready to enforce his demands if necessary, pushing the small mouse droid that followed them away with his foot. The medical droid took up position in the corner of the room. Piett stood by the door, torn between giving the boy privacy and not wanting to leave him alone.

“Sit,” the medic ordered curtly when the prince had reached his bed. He pushed the prince to sit on the edge of the bed without waiting for the boy to comply voluntarily. He kept a firm hand on the boy’s shoulder as if he was worried his patient might bolt the moment he let him go. With the other hand he whipped out a light-pen from his breast pocket that also held his code cylinder, switching on the bright light at the tip of it and flashed it into the boy’s face. The prince flinched back instinctively, eliciting an impatient growl from the medic.

“Any headache, nausea, vision impairment, or loss of hearing?” he demanded, his voice laced with disapproval.

“No, I told you-“

“Any pain in chest or stomach? Are you feeling any heart palpitations or an unusual shortness of breath?”

“It’s really nothi-”

The medic pressed a switch on the pen to expose a sharp tip.

“Give me your hand,” he demanded, holding out his hand impatiently. The prince stretched his right hand out tentatively. The medic took hold of it and prodded the index finger soundly with the tip.

“Ouch!” the prince pulled the hand back indignantly. “Hey, what gives-“

“Hold still,” the medic snarled. The little mouse droid bumped against his feet. “Someone get this pest out of here.”

“No, please,” the prince said quickly. “Emsee, leave him alone.”

The droid made a sound like he was blowing a raspberry, but it stood down and rolled into the corner.

The medic continued to jab each of the boy’s fingertips. Prince Luke watched glumly, but he made no further attempt to wiggle out of the medic’s examination.

“Do you experience any residual weakness, loss of strength, or difference in sensibility like a sleeping or buzzing sensation in your extremities?”

The prince mutely shook his head.

“Any difficulties with bodily functions?”

“No!” The prince flushed intensely. Piett looked to the side, once more biting down on a grin.

“Good. Take off your shirt”

“What? Why?”

The medic raised his eyebrows. “I need to scan you to check how much your lung and heart function has been affected,” he deigned to answer.

“But I’m fine-“ the prince tried once more, his voice small.

The medic glared sternly and the prince swallowed the remainder of his sentence. He tried to stall, but his resolve caved in when the man clicked his tongue irritably. He slowly unbuttoned his tunic.

“Scanner,” the medic snapped, making the boy flinch. He held out a hand, impatiently waiting for the medical droid to roll forward to deliver the requested instrument. The man jabbed the scanner brusquely into the boy’s chest.

“What about pain in limbs or joints?” the medic asked, while he continued the scan.

The prince shook his head, eying the tool unhappily. The medic ignored his patient’s foul mood. When he had completed his examination, he handed the device back to the droid.

“GH, run a full analysis,” he ordered.

While the droid worked through the gathered data, there was an awkward silence in which the prince kept his gaze down. Piett watched with half fascination and half amusement how the prince’s usual eloquence, never stumped for a remark, was melting under the medic’s stern glare like Juja ice cream on Mustafar.

Finally the droid handed the medic a datapad. The man studied it with a deep frown.

“Is something wrong?” the boy asked, looking concerned.

The medic turned to Piett instead, ignoring the boy. “He is better than can be expected, given the circumstances.”

“So then I can get back up?” the prince piped up, but he recoiled quickly when the man rounded back on him.

“You remain confined to bed until I say otherwise! Which, I assure you, won’t be anytime soon,” he said with a humorless expression. “Do I need to appoint someone to make sure you comply with that order?”

The prince winced. “No, Sir,” he said, shoulders drooping.

The medic looked satisfied. He glanced over at the medical droid. “Very well. GH, prepare a standard B-1 injector.”

“What is that?” the prince dared to ask, eying the hypo, which the droid delivered promptly, with worry. He tensed, ready to make a final stand against the medic’s demands.

“Bacta shot,” the medic replied curtly. He turned again to Piett. “More comprehensive treatment is impossible in these surroundings.”

Without further ado and before the prince could protest, he jabbed the hypo into the boy’s upper arm to inject the colorless liquid.

“I strongly recommend transferring the patient to the medbay for observation in case his overall health deteriorates and to ensure he follows instructions,” the medic said with a very pointed look at the boy.

The prince glared back. The mouse droid in the corner beeped, sounding enraged.

Piett sighed. “I will inform Lord Vader of your assessment.”

The medic looked for a moment like he had a whole lot to say about what he thought of Vader interfering with his medical authority, but he didn’t voice his frustration. He and the medical droid left.

The prince sagged with visible relief when the door closed behind him. Piett grinned.

“What?”the boy snapped, irritated.

“Nothing, Highness. It’s just… I’ve never seen you falter like this. “

“Great that you’re enjoying yourself,” the prince said sullenly. “Is all your medical staff like that?” The prince glared at the door through which the medic had disappeared.

“I would say he was unusually permissive,” Piett said. “Naval medics aren’t used to having their patients argue with them about the necessity of procedures and examinations.”

“I wonder why. I think I’ll pass on a follow up check-up.”

Piett grin widened at the dripping sarcasm in the boy’s voice. But then he remember why the prince had been treated at all and his face fell. He eyed the boy, searching for any change in him, caused by yesterday’s traumatic events.

“Well, how do you feel?”

“I told you, I’m fine,” the prince said, exasperated. “Bedrest, what nonsense.”

He pushed himself up and folded back the blanket to get up.

Piett reached reflexively for his arm, to hold him back. “You really should stay in bed.”

The prince stopped short. “What? Or you report me?”

Piett grimaced. “Please just stay in bed, Highness. It’s a miracle that you were allowed to be treated at all after… Well, just try to make the most of it and get rest.”

The prince looked uncomfortable at that.

“I agree that you should have been moved to the medbay. I will let Lord Vader know,” Piett continued. “But don’t get your hopes up too much, Highness. I don’t think he will allow you to be moved.”

Piett doubted that Vader would ever allow removing the boy from his secure prison, even if it were for just a few days.

“I’m fully on board with that.”

Piett looked stunned for a moment, then he burst out laughing. The prince joined in. Piett had to remind himself that the boy had just a day ago been subjected to torture. He didn’t seem upset or shaken at all. In fact, he was in higher spirits than usual.

“I take it that you aren’t fond of bed rest?” Piett asked and pulled up a chair to sit down next to the prince.

“Is that so obvious?” the prince asked. “No, I never liked wasting time waiting to heal.”

“Did you have that much occasion to require medical assistance? I thought-“

“That I only ever sat inside and never got out? You’d be surprised,” the prince said, a twinkle in his eyes.

Piett’s eyes fell on the untouched food tray on the bedside table. “I think you should have some food,” he said.

“Thank you, but I’m really not that hungry.”

“This reminds me of our first meeting.” Piett crossed his arms, but smiled goodnaturedly. “I think back then you agreed not to continue your hunger strike.”

The prince scowled. For a moment the two stared each other down until the boy lowered his gaze.

“Fine, I’ll eat it,” he said, ceding the battle.

The boy pulled the tray closer to himself and stretched out his hand to grab the spoon. It was at the edge of the tray, out of reach for the boy. But the physical impossibility of the feat didn’t stop the prince or the spoon. It soared through the air, moved by an invisible force straight into the waiting hand.

Piett’s brain froze mid thought. The prince moved to dig it into the ration as if nothing had happened until he too stilled.

He looked up into Piett’s stunned face, his face frozen in an expression of fear.

“I-I…” he stuttered. “I can explain!”

Piett got to his feet and made it halfway to the door by the time the prince caught up with him, the tray falling to the floor with a clatter. The little mouse droid screeched.

“No, please it’s not the way you think,” the prince pleaded.

Jedi.

The single word spun through Piett head, no matter how much he tried to banish it.

This wasn't true. It couldn't be. It mustn’t be.

“Are you out of your mind?” Piett breathed, still half hoping this had all been just a figment of his imagination. His overworked mind playing tricks on him after he had the prince on his mind for so many months. It wasn’t though. The damning spoon was still firmly clutched in the boy’s hand.

“H-how did you do that,” he demanded even though he knew the answer to it. The boy was Force sensitive. How had the prince never been discovered during the standardized and mandatory tests performed on adolescents? The answer must be in the boy’s parentage. If someone could fool the system of tight controls, it would be an influential and wealthy individual like the viceroy.  

“What in nine hells possessed you to do that?” Piett fumed. He seized the sleeve of the boy’s tunic, shaking him.

“It’s not what you think it is. Trust me, I can explain this!”

The prince didn’t even have the decency to deny what had happened. He didn’t even grant Piett the benefit of the doubt that this was only a coincidence. Piett harbored no illusions about what the prince’s fate would be when Lord Vader got a whiff of the boy’s Force sensitivity.

“Are you crazy? You realize he will kill you, he will actually kill you for this,” he shouted, still shaking the boy.

“He won’t, Admiral,” the prince said in a placating and calm tone, which only served to pique Piett’s consternation.

“He… you are insane, boy,” Piett looked around, his mind working furiously on how he could possibly dissolve this latest mess of truly galactic proportions. But there was no way for him to cover this up. Vader would pick it from his mind and both he and the prince would pay. Piett still wasn’t sure why Vader had chosen not to execute him after the suspicious uniform, or later after the nearly successful escape. But he was sure that Vader’s lenience would not extend to failing to report something as big as the Force sensitivity of the prince.

“I-I have to tell Lord Vader.”

“But he knows already, he knows of this.”

“He- what?”

“He’s my father,” the prince supplied.

“Vader won’t care who your father is. He-“

“No, you don’t understand, Lord Vader is my father!”

Piett stopped short, feeling the strange urge to laugh. The prince had a fever. Piett needed to call back the medic. The boy was hallucinating. That was the only explanation. Maybe that could also explain the impossible feat with the spoon.

“Please, you must believe me,” the boy implored him.

The door to the bedroom opened again. Piett didn’t need to turn around to know who had joined them. He couldn’t explain how Vader had known to come here, but maybe he was able to pick the source of the commotion from Piett’s brain even from several decks away.

Vader watched the scene in front of him quietly, only his breathing interrupting the tense silence that had fallen. He was probably deciding if only the boy or both of them should be summarily executed for this mess.

Piett decided to shove all his credits into the pot. “My Lord-” he began, only to break off at the raised hand.

The prince dashed forward. Piett tried to get a hold on him before he could throw himself headlong into the sarlacc pit, but he missed the prince’s flailing arm. The boy’s hand flung out to grasp Vader’s hand that rested on his lightsaber. Piett was stunned by the sheer audacity of the boy.

“Father, it was an accident, please. You promised.”

Piett waited with his heart pounding in his throat, hoping that Vader would deny it all.

Strangely gentle, Vader pried off the prince’s fingers. He placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder and pushed him back toward the bed. The boy dug in his heels, his pleading gaze never leaving Vader’s mask.

When Vader finally spoke, it wasn’t the scathing denial of the prince’s claims that Piett expected.

“I believe you were told to stay in bed, young one.”

Piett watched the Prince of Alderaan and Lord Vader and something in his brain clicked into place. Realization set in of what learning this secret meant for his own life expectancy. Vader would make no compromises when it came to keeping this a secret. Piett had tried time and again to shield the boy from Vader’s wrath and only cemented the inevitable. It just turned out that it wouldn’t be the boy who’d suffer Vader’s ire, but himself.

As if to confirm Piett’s fear, Vader turned to him. “Outside, Admiral.”

Piett’s breath stuck in his throat. For a moment, he feared that Vader had already started to strangle him. But it wasn’t Vader’s invisible Force, just his fear. With difficulty, Piett managed a nod. He forced his knees to unlock and turned to the door. From the corner of his eye, he could see Vader reach for the blanket, covering the prince. The prince protested vociferously, but his words failed to register with Piett’s reeling brain.

Outside in the prince’s by now so familiar living area, he waited. All those times he had come here, to gently coax the boy not to get on Vader’s toes. All the times he had defended and shielded the prince while his loyalty had fallen into ever deeper doubt.

He’d been played well by the boy.

It didn’t take more than a few moments for the door to the bedroom to open again and Vader to join him. Vader stood, his hands clasped behind his back, looking like a hungry Nexu regarding his unfortunate prey.

Piett braced himself. He knew what would follow. He had seen it happen often enough. He would meet his destiny with courage and dignity, not fall to his knees and beg for mercy that wouldn’t be granted either way.

“You will keep this to yourself,” Vader said, his voice a chilling low growl. “Or I will be forced to re-evaluate your usefulness after all.”

Piett managed a shaky nod, but no word would come over his lips.

“Very well, dismissed.”

Piett forced a salute and turned to the door. He felt like he moved on the juddery autopilot of a decrepit freighter. He half expected the crimson glow of Vader’s lightsaber to illuminate the room behind him. Maybe it was Vader’s idea of a mercy kill of a subordinate who hadn’t failed him but had merely the bad luck to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, learning a secret so deadly that it had already cost the lives of others. Maybe Vader intended to kill him head on, but with his back turned to the danger, his mind at ease that he had escaped alive.

But there was no red glow and no dangerous hum of Vader’s saber. The door in front of him opened, before Piett had even raised his shaking hand to knock. He stepped out in the corridor. The air out there seemed cooler. Piett took a shuddering breath, marveling at the fact that he was still able to do so. Piett marched off without paying attention to where his feet carried him. It didn’t matter as long as he was far away from Lord Vader and his offspring.

+++

“Let me out, father! Please!”

Luke pounded with fists on the door. He needed to get out and stop his father from murdering the admiral. It had been Luke’s fault, his carelessness that had led to this, and he couldn’t bear Piett to die because of him. Emsee at his feet beeped frantically. Luke picked up the droid and held him up to the door lock.

“Emsee, help me! You’ve got to be able to do something.”

Emsee plugged into the lock with his extended utility arm, but it didn’t open. Emsee beeped helplessly. Luke set him back down. He took a step back and rammed his shoulder into the door. He had to open the door and help Piett. Emsee pummeled into the door at full speed, too. Both of them took another run-up. Luke threw himself against the door but it opened in that moment. Emsee overshot into the living area and Luke stumbled bodily into the black, solid wall blocking the way. Vader caught and steadied him before Luke could topple over.

“Bed, at once,” Vader said, his voice leaving no room for arguments.

“No,” Luke made to shake Vader’s hands off. He stood on tiptoes to peek over Vader’s bulk into the room beyond to see where the admiral was. “Please leave him alone-“

“He is alive and well, young one,”

“Please, don’t-“ Luke stopped himself short. “He-he is?”

“I promised you that I will not harm him.”

“But-“

“Get back into bed, Highness,” Vader said. He pushed him away from the door and in the direction of his bed. With the Force he summoned the blanket that had fallen to the floor. Luke ceded the battle.

“He saw you use the Force?” Vader demanded as Luke clambered back into bed.

Luke looked up at his father, worried for his reaction.

“It was an accident, I didn’t mean to.” Luke hung his head. “I’m sorry.”

“It is of no consequence,” Vader said, placing a gloved hand on Luke’s head. “For now, all you need to focus on is getting rest.”

+++

Chapter Text

+++

Luke wrapped his fingers a little more tightly around the grip of the lightsaber, just like Vader had taught him. He raised the blade in time to counter the blow aimed vaguely for his neck. Finally, Vader had agreed to resume his training after days of highly useless bedrest that Luke had refused to abide by most of the time anyway.

Vader swung the lightsaber in a wide arch over his head, locking blades with Luke and pushing him back, but Luke managed to hold his own.

“You have improved a lot, Highness,” Vader said, when he broke off. “I believe it is time for you to go up against a training droid. It will provide you with some much-needed dueling practice.”

Luke looked doubtfully up at Vader. He was incredibly nervous at the prospect of fighting one of them. Vader had once let him watch his own training, declaring it would be beneficial for Luke to see it. Vader had dueled three of them at the same time, each holding two lightsabers. Luke had knelt at the edge of the room not daring to move, knowing that the droids honed in on any moving target.

In awe Luke had watched Vader turn and twist as he met the six blades swinging at him with precise and harsh blocks. But even for Vader’s masterful skills, it hadn’t been an easy duel. It had taken him a long time to dispose of the droids slowly, one by one. Luke doubted that he could ever get to that level.

“I don’t know if-“

“I am confident that you can do it,” Vader said brusquely, brushing off Luke’s doubts, before he could properly voice them.

Vader activated the droid with a flick of the force. The droid’s visual receptors lit up with an eerie blue light. It scanned the room before its eyes focused on Luke. Luke raised his blade. The blue-lit eye sockets turned red as it finished its computation of its combatant, and without hesitation it charged, engaging the single red lightsaber that it clutched in its mechanical hand.

It swung the blade at him with considerably more speed than Vader had during their earlier sparring. Luke managed to block it and the blades met, humming fiercely. Luke was forced back, blocking with every step.

But another two strikes of the red blade and he was on the ground, caught off balance by the sheer force of the droid’s attacks. Luke rolled back as it darted forward to land a deadly blow. Narrowly, he managed to get back to his feet. He ducked under the next swing aimed for his head. There was a sharp sizzle as the very ends of his hair got caught by the red lightsaber.

Luke’s eyes widened in fear and his heart pounded as the red saber swung in his direction again, the sharp stench of burnt hair biting in his nose. Luke stared fearfully at the glowing blade in the droid’s hand, twirling so fast that it appeared as a deadly humming red circle.

“Stop, please,” Luke gasped, jumping narrowly to the side to avoid the next blow that might be the last.

Vader relented and the droid deactivated mid-swing.

“I can’t do it,” Luke forced out in between heaving breaths. “This is too much.”

“It isn’t. You fail because you fear the droid. Master your fear. Hone and focus it and use it to conquer. You will try again.”

Luke launched himself at the droid when it was reactivated. He landed two swift blows on the droid’s lightsaber, forcing it back a couple of steps. But that was about as far as he made it. The droid retaliated with a particularly harsh blow and their blades locked. Luke pushed with all he had, leaving him vulnerable for the droid’s powerful kick. It hit him square in the chest, and Luke was on the floor again. The impact drove the wind from his lungs.

Vader deactivated the droid again, while Luke clutched the aching spot on his chest

“Pathetic,” Vader snarled. “Get back to your feet.”

Luke glared, but picked himself up from the floor. Before he could settle into his ready stance again, the droid was already advancing on him. Luke staggered backward in alarm. “Wait, I’m not ready yet.”

Vader didn't deactivate the droid this time but flung his hand out to push the droid several steps back with the Force.

“You didn’t give me the chance to prepare,” Luke complained as the droid charged again.

“There will be no chances with the Emperor. You must leave the weak and cowardly attitude of your family and your people behind.”

“I’m not a coward.”

“Then prove it! Focus and show me that you can do it.”

Luke’s angry retort stuck in his throat as the droid reached him again in full force. He parried the attack with more success this time. But Luke didn’t stop to think about it. The Force sang in his ears and it pushed and egged him on. Luke lunged himself at the droid, barely aware of his movements. He pressed the droid back, a new, powerful energy flowing through his body as he fought. He felt stronger, more in control. He could do this. He could beat it.The blue lightsaber hummed fiercely in his hand.

But the droid caught its balance too. It swung at him with redoubled force, and Luke struggled to block each of the attacks. He had to dive to the side, bringing himself into a low crouch to avoid the blade. The droid focused again on him, and a grin crept over Luke’s face. He could see now the small imbalances the machine had to compensate for when it executed fast movements, its weaknesses behind the seemingly impenetrable power. Luke pushed himself forward, trusting in the Force to control his leap and swiftly landed three strong blows to the droid’s saber, pushing it back a couple of steps.

Luke threw his hand out to push the droid back. The droid stumbled. Luke used the short break in the droid’s relentless attacks and charged. He lashed with his blade in full force. The droid's red blade met his own, then it flew from his mechanical hand. Luke didn’t stop there. He pivoted, using his momentum to plunge the blade straight into the droid’s chest.

It stood frozen for a moment, then the lights in its eyes flickered out. With creaking limbs, it collapsed to the floor where it landed with a loud clatter.

Luke looked stunned at the ruined machine.

“I-I did it!” he said, a grin creeping slowly onto his face. He switched off the lightsaber, still eying the smoking hole he had punctured into the battle droid.

“Indeed.” Vader placed a hand on Luke’s shoulder. “You possess great power.”

Vader clasped his hands behind his back. Luke, still catching his breath, placed his lightsaber on the bench to the side of the hangar, next to the box where it was usually kept. A question, one he had had ever since the Admiral had inadvertently found out about his parentage, was burning on his tongue. He took heart and turned to Vader.

“I was wondering, well, since the… last time, the admiral has not come back to see me.”

Vader eyed him. “He is unharmed, Highness.”

“That’s not what I meant, I… I don’t know, but-”

“You will have to accept that the admiral needs time to understand the implications of your heritage. He will come around, eventually.”

Luke nodded, but he wasn’t convinced. He hoped that Admiral Piett wasn’t a gauge for how people would react to finding out the truth.

“I,” Luke started. "I wanted to apologize to him. If it weren’t for my mistake, then-”

“Attachments pose great danger. You need to stay focused on the task at hand, Highness. I have been summoned to Imperial Center.”

Luke looked at Vader, stunned. “What about-”

“You will accompany me. The Emperor has commanded me to bring you to the senate gathering. He believes your presence will convince Senator Organa to comply with his orders, should he harbor any remaining defiance,” Vader said, sounding dispassionate.

Luke reached out cautiously with the Force to touch Vader’s presence. Even with his father’s impenetrable shields holding him off, Luke could feel that he was more worried than he was letting on.

“So, this is it then?” Luke asked, gathering his determination. “We use the opportunity to fight the Emperor and-“

“No!”

Luke flinched at the fierceness of Vader’s declaration.

“But I’m ready, Father,” he argued. “I want to fight!”

“You are not ready. It will take many more months, if not years, of training until you will be able to fight the Emperor alongside me.”

“But that is too long, I need to help Bail, I can’t continue like this...”

“Patience, young one.” Vader cautioned. “A suitable opportunity will arise when the time is right.”

“But-“

“No! Did you not listen to me?” Vader stabbed his finger at Luke. “My Master is powerful in the Force. Your skills are no match for him, if he should get a whiff of your talents he will have you and me destroyed, or worse.”

Luke swallowed.

“You are too impatient,” Vader added, his voice a little softer. “I used to be as rash as you are now. But you will accept my decision and guidance on this.”

“I do listen, Father,” Luke finally ceded, when he realized that Vader’s opinion wouldn’t change. “I’ll be careful.”

“You must be, or you will pay the price. Focus on shielding your mind and keep your head down until we are well away from the core again, do you understand?”

Luke nodded.

Vader continued to stare him down. Luke felt him probe once more at the shields protecting his mind.

“Good. I have preparations to make,” Vader said curtly, turning on his heel while he was speaking. He stalked off leaving Luke standing in the vast hangar bay.

Luke turned to leave too when his eyes fell on the lightsaber that Vader had gifted him. It still lay where Luke had placed it after their sparring match, next to the small box where Vader expected him to place it after each training. Luke took it, hefting the hilt in his hand.

He should put it where it belonged. He shouldn’t take it. If it were to be found on him, he and his father would be in trouble, and Vader had cautioned that Luke couldn’t fight the Emperor yet. But departing unarmed for Coruscant made Luke feel uneasy. He made up his mind. Luke closed the box and stuffed the lightsaber into his tunic. Unless Vader came back and checked, he wouldn’t know the lightsaber was gone.

+++

“Sir, we are reaching 0-0-0 and will come out of Hyperspace as scheduled.”

Piett nodded curtly. “Broadcast our priority clearance and codes immediately upon reversion to real space and request Imperial Center Space Traffic Control to assign us a course and orbiting position for the duration of our stay.”

His order was confirmed with a prompt “Yes, Sir.”

Piett walked down the aisle, separating the two bridge pits. He took up position in front of the viewports. He reached them in time to feel the tiny vibration going through the deck under his feet as the Executor slipped out of Hyperspace. The usual black of space that greeted him was spotted with countless vessels, both naval and civilian, any order to the hive of activity impossible to spot. Behind the knot of vessels, the glowing orb of Imperial Center floated, the billions of lights and building on its surface making it look like a jewel resting on the velvet black cushion of space. A heavy cloud cover shielded much of the planet from the prying eyes of space.

The Executor made its way through the bustling traffic, guided on a course cleared for the behemoth to settle into a close orbit of the planet.

“Very well,” he said, turning to Captain Venka who approached him. “Have Lord Vader’s shuttle prepared. I leave it in your hands to brief Lord Vader about the final updates.”

The captain looked pleasantly surprised by Piett handing him this responsibility, something that fell into Piett’s duties. Venka would pounce on any opportunity to get closer to Vader; maybe he was hoping that one day Piett would go the way of his predecessor and clear the admiral's seat for the captain. If only Venka knew how close he had been to achieving his goal just days ago. By the way he looked, Venka seemed to have an idea that Piett was deliberately keeping his distance from the Dark Lord.

But Piett didn’t care if the captain would use the opportunity to drive a deeper wedge between them. Anything that kept him away from Lord Vader and more importantly from his offspring was welcome to him, even if the fallout of this would come and bite him later.

Piett turned back to the viewport, watching the planet looming ever closer. It was the true heart of the Empire, home to billions of lifeforms including the Emperor Palpatine himself. Down on the planet were the Imperial Senate and the headquarters of all the military branches. Including the feared Imperial Security Bureau, his vicious mind added.

It was one thing to keep this secret of the boy to himself while they were far away from the core. But it was nothing short of treason to keep quiet here. True, he had long since pledged his loyalty to Lord Vader, should it come to a conflict with the Emperor. But now it seemed that his usefulness and loyalty were weighed against the secret he had inadvertently learned . Keeping a known Force sensitive hidden from the authorities was alone enough earn him a death sentence, and that didn’t factor in that it was the son of Lord Vader himself, hidden with the Viceroy of Alderaan from the prying eye of the Emperor. That was the only logical conclusion Piett had managed to conjure up in sleepless nights.

Vader would kill him without hesitation, had he any inkling of Piett’s doubts. Maybe the only way to escape this mess alive was to turn the information in, before it was discovered and everyone who knew it was punished. Piett shook his head, he shouldn’t let his mind drag him to such thoughts. They weren’t healthy for him.

“Sir, Admiral Montferrat has reported back that the remainder of the fleet has reached their designated position,” an aide called out from the crew pit.

“Very well, confirm our position,” Piett ordered.

It was calming to know that as per Lord Vader’s permanent contingency plans the fleet was reasonably close. Piett watched the shuttle containing the Dark Lord and the boy travel along the portside of the Executor with their double TIE fighter escort on their way to the military base within short distance of the Imperial Palace that Lord Vader had chosen as his personal residence whenever he had to visit the planet.

Piett took a calming breath, tearing his mind off the vicious cycle in his mind. Dwelling on whether or not he should turn the boy in wasn’t helping him. He had committed himself to Vader’s path and he should stay on it.

+++

Luke stood tersely next to the shuttle, waiting with its boarding ramp lowered. Troopers were loading crates onto it and while they were busy, Luke had to wait in the hangar, guarded by his escort. Every now and then he subtly pressed his right arm to his body, to check if the lightsaber was still where he had hidden it, stuffed into the double breasted black tunic. Luke scanned the hangar. He had hoped that the Admiral would come down to see them off. But there was no sign of him.

When Vader stalked into the hangar he was instead accompanied by an Imperial Luke didn't know. The man hurried to keep up with Vader while giving his superior a report at rattling speed. Luke was curious to hear what he was telling Vader, but before they came into earshot, Vader waved sharply and Luke was pushed forward by his guards.

“Let go,” he snapped, hoping the irritation in his voice covered his nerves. His heart was pounding in his chest. “I can walk.”

If the guards were to notice the shape of the lightsaber hidden in his tunic, he’d be done for it. It had been a mistake to bring it. But miraculously they didn’t notice anything amiss. The troopers let go of him.

“Then walk,” one of then snapped back.

Luke bit back his angry retort and scaled the boarding ramp with quick steps. Before his guards had reached the passenger compartment and could order him around, Luke had already chosen a seat. It was the one with its back to the only tiny viewport. The viewport wasn’t bigger than a datapad, the Lambda class shuttle was not designed with passenger comfort in mind, but at least he would be able to see something if he turned his head around to look out.

Luke reached for the crash webbing to close it around him. His arm was covering the treacherous little bulge in his side that the lightsaber made when he sat down. Shortly after, Vader boarded the shuttle and the boarding ramp closed with a dull thud.

Unbidden, the feeling that he wouldn't come back crept into Luke. He did his best to chase away those thoughts and concentrated instead on the thrum of the shuttle’s engine. Their smooth ride through space passed quickly and they soon hit the planet’s atmosphere.

The further the shuttle descended toward Coruscant, the more it shook in the turbulences caused by the storm ravaging the atmosphere. Luke was pressed into the crash webbing as the shuttle bounced and rocked. He started to feel nauseous. Finally, they broke through the clouds and the heavy shaking died down. Luke turned his head to peek out the tiny viewport behind him. There it was. Coruscant.

It had been rechristened Imperial Center when the Empire had been formed. A name that neither of his parents ever used in private. But they had been careful to impress on him that he was never to use the planet's old name when outside their home. Especially after doing so had been declare punishable under the newly imposed Anti-Insurgency Act.

The ecumenopolis was half hidden by a thick curtain of rain, pouring from the grey storm clouds that were now above them. Luke could see a sea of skyscrapers, stretching all the way to the horizon, piercing into the sky like huge stalagmites. The heavy rain gave the wet concrete and durasteel of the buildings a gloomy look.

Bail never had taken him here. He had a plethora of reasons why Luke couldn’t accompany him every time the senate met and Bail had to travel to the core to represent Alderaan and the agenda of peace and freedom. Luke could now fathom the reason. This was the heart of the Empire’s power. And it was dangerously close to the Emperor. Luke could feel the oppressive presence of the Emperor permeating the whole planet.

Luke could see the downpour from the relative shelter of the shuttle, but the wet coldness crept under his clothes already. Once more Luke brushed against the metal hilt of the lightsaber, as he followed Vader down the ramp.

The Imperials had not deigned it necessary to provide their captive with any warmer clothes to accommodate for the freezing temperatures and the weather.  Within a few steps on the tarmac of the landing platform, the black pants and tunic he was wearing were soaked with the icy water. The sharp wind blew the gale into his eyes, making it hard to see further than a few steps. He almost ran headlong into Vader when his father stopped abruptly.

Luke squinted around Vader’s bulk to see the cause of the delay. They had reached the edge of the landing platform and Vader was exchanging a few words with the officer heading the welcoming committee of stormtroopers. Luke gritted his teeth to stop them from chattering from the cold. His wet hair was plastered to his forehead and the water was constantly running in his eyes. For once he envied the troopers and Vader for their helmets and armor that protected them from the gushing rain and even the officer who had his cap to keep his eyes clear and a coat to repel the water.

Luke was glad when Vader finally broke off his discussion. Luke needed no prompt from the guards to hasten after him, glad to finally make it into the building towering above the landing platform. Even the grey, utilitarian corridors managed to look inviting when compared to the torrent outside.

Vader marched off without sparing him a glance, leaving the officer to deal with him. Luke stood shivering in the corridor. The man stared at him with alert, blue eyes that matched Luke’s own, taking in Luke’s soaked clothing and surely dishevelled appearance. Luke glared back.

The man stopped scrutinizing him and gestured down the hallway in the other direction. They stepped into a turbolift and Luke was surprised when it went up. He had half expected to end up in a holding cell. But when they emerged, Luke found himself on a surprisingly pleasant and inviting residential floor. The thick carpet on the floor and the subdued artwork on the walls made it almost homely.

The officer punched in a code at one of the doors and it slid to the side, revealing the view on the apartment behind.

Luke stepped into the living room and looked out the huge window panes giving a stunning view of the metropolis outside. Opposite the building he was in was the huge pyramidal shape of the Imperial Palace loomed and to the side was the distinct form of the senate rotunda. Luke eyed the building with apprehension. Tomorrow he’d be in there and in the same place as his adoptive father again.

Breha rarely ever traveled to Coruscant, she made little pretence that she loathed the capital of the Empire. But Bail would already be on Coruscant, meeting with fellow senators and allies. What would he think, if he knew that Luke was so close? Luke skimmed over the many surrounding buildings. He didn’t know enough about the location of the Alderaanian embassy to know which one it was, but it was comforting nonetheless to remind himself that Bail was somewhere out there.

Luke tore his eyes off the sight of the city when a fresh wave of coldness made him shiver. He searched for the fresher and spare clothes. He needed to get out of the clammy clothes or he’d catch a cold or worse.

+++

Chapter Text

+++

“You have been remarkably quiet throughout the meeting,” Mon Mothma said, keeping her voice low enough so only Bail could hear her.

Past them the other senators that had followed Mon Mothma’s call for this meeting filed out of the small meeting room. Bail eyed them with a desperate longing, wishing he hadn’t come, or had at least managed to leave before the Chandrilan Senator had the opportunity to corner him.

“I had nothing to add to what was being said,” he replied, evasively.

“It is very unlike you to remain silent on something like this massacre of peaceful protesters. Bail, this is only the last in a long line of atrocities committed by the Emperor. They opened fire on unarmed civilians!”

“I am aware,” Bail replied, feeling tired.

“Now the same may happen on Ryloth,” Mon Mothma forged on. “While rebellious activity remains confined to single planets, it is easy for the Empire to stomp it out with sheer force. If we don’t stand united with them, they will suffer the same fate. But once we take a stand together, the Emperor will have to hear us. Now is the time to make a stand.”

Bail tried to focus on Mon Mothma’s words to banish the memory of Luke writhing under the relentless punishment he had to bear on his father’s behalf that seemed to be etched on his retinas and haunted him in every waking moment.

“I know what happened to your son,” Mon Mothma said, her voice softer as if she knew what plagued him. “It is outrageous that the Emperor and Vader are holding him, but they'd never dare to harm him. This is only a scare tactic. I urge you, let me talk about this unwarranted arrest in the senate. I am certain that they will return your son if the public pressure becomes too much. Besides, wouldn't he want you to continue your work?”

Bail wasn’t sure how well he managed a neutral expression. But he wouldn’t, couldn’t tell Mon Mothma what he had been forced to witnessed mere days ago.

“There can be no more hesitation, Bail,” Senator Mothma implored. “We cannot remain silent this time. And once we’ve exhausted all other peaceful and diplomatic means, we must act. For the galaxy. For Luke!”

“I will support your petition,” Bail said, trying to ignore the echo of Luke’s pained screams in the back of his mind. “But don’t expect more than that, please.”

Mon Mothma seemed satisfied for now and Bail wasted no time to leave. He dived into the next alcove, to avoid bumping into anyone else. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. The senate gathering hadn’t even started yet and he already felt tired and worn out.

He couldn’t understand why any of his erstwhile allies still bothered to turn to him. In the months after Luke’s disappearance, he had given way to the Imperials’ demands little by little. Some knew like Mon Mothma that Luke had been taken by Vader. But more yet had believed the story that he and Breha had been forced to publish, that Luke had gone along willingly. Many of his allies had criticized and shunned him for it.

The same was true on his homeworld. He knew that his approval in the populace was dwindling and rightly so. More often than not, Bail now faced enraged shouts of unhappy citizens whenever he had to attend public appearances for giving his son freely to the Imperials. For being the Emperor’s puppet and a traitor to all Alderaan stood for.

They were right to do so, Bail though viciously. He deserved every bit of it. He was weak and no longer fit to lead them.

+++

“Senator?”

Bail looked up, having been absorbed in the memo that Mon Mothma had passed him. His attaché, Captain Antilles, looked at him with an unusually dark face. They sat sequestered away in the small repulsorpod, reserved for the delegation from Alderaan. The familiar background noise of thousands of voices speaking in low tones during the short break of the senate session that resonated through the cavernous room floated to his ears.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Um, there is…” the man looked like he was struggling for the right words and Bail raised an eyebrow. “The-the prince is here,” Captain Antilles finally stuttered out.

“What do you mean?”

“Prince Luke, he is here, Senator. He has just been led into the royal box.”

Bail felt as if the repulsorpod had taken a sudden, unexpected dive. His heart was pounding in his chest. He tried to compose himself as much as he could and sat forward. This was probably what the Emperor wanted but he had to, he just had to see his son. The royal box was usually always empty since the Emperor grazed his de facto powerless senate very rarely. His loyal followers and informants would keep him updated on what was being debated. So Bail had only once seen the red-marked pod occupied in all those years the Empire had festered in the galaxy.

The pod wasn’t exactly close to where the Alderaanian delegation was placed. It was several layers of saucer-shaped repulsorpods lower and on the other side of the room, but not far enough that Bail wouldn’t recognize the figure sitting in the front row.

He would recognize his son anywhere.

There he sat, his blonde hair cropped still shorter than he used to wear it in the happier days on Alderaan and dressed in black, as he had from the moment he had fallen into Imperial hands. Luke seemed paler than usual, after having been imprisoned on Vader’s behemoth of terror for months, but he appeared at least well fed.

But he wasn’t alone. Lord Vader sat right next to him. It made Bail feel equally angry and worried. If only Vader knew that the boy he was tormenting and bullying was his own blood. Bail had hoped that Vader would eventually tire of his task to jailing the boy, leaving it to his lackeys to deal with his young hostage. Every moment Vader spent so close to Luke increased the risk that one day he would discover the nature of their relationship. It was something that must never happen and would only end with the boy being corrupted by Vader and the Emperor. If he had needed any more proof that Vader would have no scruples handing the boy to his master, or worse, then he’d known it after witnessing Vader torture the innocent boy without hesitation.

Behind Luke and his jailor stood two red-robed royal guards, deceptively motionless. Their presence left no doubt to anyone whose prisoner the young prince ultimately was. Bail worriedly eyed the force pikes they held, the hated weapons much too close to his son. It brought back in horrifying clarity the moments in which Bail had to helplessly watch Luke scream, while Vader relentlessly tormented him with the same weapon over and over again, even when Luke was already too weak to hold himself upright.

In that moment Luke raised his head. With uncanny accuracy, he scanned the pods above him, spotting the Alderaanian pod almost immediately. A smile crept over his face as he recognized him, and Bail smiled back. For a wonderful moment, it was just like they had never been separated. Luke was positively beaming now, his blue eyes fixed on him.

It lasted only a brief instant. Vader’s helmeted head turned to the prince sharply, causing the boy to tense. Luke’s expression froze and his smile vanished in an instant. He turned his head to Vader, listening to what the Dark Lord was telling him. Luke gave a small nod and turned his head straight again, not looking up but staring straight ahead.

Captain Antilles hissed a curse, uncharacteristic for his usual calm level-headedness. He too stared down at the royal box where Luke now sat rigidly next to Lord Vader. Clearly, he had witnessed the exchange as well. “What have they done to him?”

“This is outrageous, we must intervene and put a stop to this,” another of his advisors said. “The prince must be returned.

Bail zoned out of the angry conversation around him. Instead he focused his gaze and attention back on his young son. Luke was staring down at his hands that rested in his lap. He was unrestrained, but that hardly made any difference as long as Vader kept him as tightly leashed as he did.

“Inform the Chandrilan senator that I will not support the proposed petition,” he said, making up his mind.

“Senator, this is-”

“I will not endanger my son,” he hissed. “I cannot... Please tell Senator Mothma that I am deeply sorry.”

He looked back down at Luke. He still sat motionless, his back rigid and his gaze straight ahead. He didn’t dare to look back up. Instead his watchdog did.

Vader raised his masked gaze to regard him, as if he had known that Bail was watching. Bail set his jaw, bestowing a look of utmost contempt on the man. It was difficult to imagine that Anakin Skywalker was under that mask. It didn't matter anymore, Bail reminded himself. Vader was lost to the darkness. He had been ever since the blonde boy sitting next to him had grazed the light of this galaxy.

But Luke was not like his father. The boy was kind and compassionate. He didn’t deserve this fate that the Emperor had chosen for him. Yet without telling Vader of the boy’s true parentage, Bail was powerless to help him. The only solace left for Breha and him was that  Luke could stay who he was, restrained and controlled, but still himself instead of being broken into a Sith like his father.

Bail stared back until Vader lowered his gaze dismissively. Vader turned back to the boy instead, talking to him again. Luke visibly tensed at that and gave another small nod. Helpless to do anything else, Bail clenched his fists at Vader’s casual reminder of the power he held over the boy.

Bail had always taken pride in being a pacifist, but right now he wished he had a blaster.

+++

The Grand Convocation Chamber of the Imperial Senate was a truly imposing sight. Shaped like a huge funnel with sloping walls, the thousands of repulsorpods arranged in concentric patterns from floor to ceiling gave it the feeling of a pit. The highest pods looked tiny from where Luke sat, as they were so high up above him. A podioum was installed in the center of the vast chamber, occupied by Palpatine’s Grand Vizier, who acted as the Senate’s chairman, and a number of aides, coordinating the sessions and recognizing the senators that wished to speak on the current topic.

Luke looked around with interest. This should have been his future workplace. This was what he had trained and studied for. One day, when his father would step back, Luke had been meant to replace him as senator of Alderaan. Luke tried to imagine himself speaking to this huge assembly himself but couldn’t.

Luke didn’t pay much attention to what was being discussed. To keep himself from the temptation to look up to the Alderaanian box again, Luke intently watched the coming and going of the repulsorpods delivering the delegates to an open space from where they would address the body, their words captured by microphones and echoed throughout the vast room. Small hovercams soared past, recording the speakers and the goings-on in other pods, broadcasting them on huge view screens allowing a close view of the orator.

He hoped that Bail would be one of the speakers, but the Alderaanian pod never moved throughout the session.

The senate session was not yet fully over, Amedda still directing some closing words to the assembly, when Vader turned back to him.

“Get up,” he ordered curtly. His voice was so cold and menacing that it made Luke’s hair stand on end. He complied, yet not without risking another fleeting glance up to the Alderaanian pod. But before he could make out Bail or any other familiar face, Vader firmly took hold of his arm with an impatient growl and dragged him past the two royal guards that had stayed at his back the whole time, making Luke feel uneasy with every faint whisper of their robes.

His father had explained that here they were under the watchful gaze of so many of the Emperor’s advisors and confidants that they had to play their role well, even if that meant that Bail might now be even more worried about him. After all, this was what the Emperor had wanted to achieve. To dangle his hostage under Bail's nose to remind him how easily he could punish him for a misstep.

Luke let his father steer him out of the royal box and through the antechamber beyond, ignoring the scornful looks of Palpatine’s loyal bootlickers flocked in the room. Here he was at the very heart of this regime and they knew he was a mere whipping boy for Vader and the Emperor to torment at leisure. Luke was glad that Vader showed no inclination to linger. He made a beeline to the exit and pulled Luke after him without giving him the courtesy of walking at his own speed. They stepped out into the vast hall now buzzing with activity as the senate dissolved. Aides were hastening around with stacks of datapads and senators in lavish dresses stood in small groups discussing themselves.

“Prince Luke!” an urgent voice caught his attention the moment Luke stepped after Vader into the hustle and bustle of the corridor outside the antechamber.

Luke looked up in search of who had called him. He recognized the man as his father’s aide, Captain Antilles. He appeared to have waited for them emerge. Vader pulled him back sharply.

“Do not speak, Prince,” Vader hissed venomously. Luke bit his tongue, cut short by his father’s furious words.

“Lord Vader, I wish to speak with the Prince,” Antilles demanded, not letting himself be intimidated as easily. He came closer.

“If you value the Prince’s continued wellbeing, you will refrain from trying to make contact with him,” he said snidely, making the man’s face fall. Captain Antilles backed up half a step. “You may relay that to the Viceroy as well.”

Luke glowered at Vader. He got the distinct feeling that Vader was all too happy to keep him from the Alderaanian delegation. But Vader ignored his unhappiness. He turned on the spot, forcing Luke to make a sharp turn himself to keep his balance, his arm still tightly grasped by Vader.

+++

Finally the connection stood. His aides had set up the secure connection to Alderaan, confirming the office had been double and triple checked for listening devices and other manipulations. Bail stepped into the projection field. A moment later the image of his wife lit up. She looked at him with her warm, brown eyes that had lost much of their sparkle since the day Lord Vader had raided their home to drag their precious son from them.

“I trust Coruscant manages to upset you, like usual,” Breha said. She smiled tiredly.

Bail swallowed, gathering himself.

“He is here, Breha,” he said gravely. “Luke is here.”

Breha gasped and her hand flew to her mouth.

“Vader had him brought to the senate in time for the voting,” Bail added, resentful.

“How did he look?” she asked in her soft voice, worry etched on her face.

“He… he looked good,” Bail said. He would rather say nothing about Luke’s subdued demeanor after Vader had threatened him, nor how Captain Antilles had witnessed Vader dragging his son away after the senate session. His wife looked troubled enough already.

“Are they are still making him dress up in black?”

Bail nodded. “A deliberate provocation, but one we mustn't react to,” he said and took a deep breath. “If you agree, I will try to directly petition the Emperor.”

Breha shook her head fiercely. “This is exactly what the Emperor’s wants. You to grovel at his feet. He will never let him go. Palpatine will always dangle him in front of us, sometimes punishing him and sometimes allowing controlled contact. This will never end.”

“Perhaps, but I will leave nothing untried to save our son.”

+++

“Are you enjoying the view, little Prince?”

Luke flinched. He tore his eyes from the cityscape that he had been watching from his vantage point on the high floor of the apartments above Vader’s base. Despite all his cautiousness, Vader still managed to sneak up on him whenever he so pleased. “I miss the green of Alderaan,” he answered truthfully.

Vader stopped next to him. He clasped his hands behind his back. “Soon you will be free to go where you wish.”

“This place is… so suffocating,” Luke mused, letting his gaze travel once more over the congested airlanes where the speeder traffic never seemed to abate, no matter what time of the day it was. “Are we leaving?” he asked hopefully.

Vader looked at him, his mask tilted slightly. “No, young one.”

Luke raised his eyebrows in surprise, dread pooling in his stomach.

“I have been ordered to bring you to the Emperor’s reception tonight, celebrating the start of the senate gathering.” he said.

“What? Why would I need to go there?”

“The Alderaanian delegation will be there too. The Emperor wishes to show his power over you and your family. You are to stay strictly by my side.”

Luke’s mood took another plunge. “We need to do something, Father. I won’t stand by quiet as the nasty, vile man pushes Bail around-“

“No!” Vader snapped, a dangerous tone in his voice. “Under no circumstances are you to do anything to provoke Palpatine. If you value your life, then you will be quiet, polite, and obedient.” Vader seized him by the shoulders, giving Luke a small shake. “Do you understand?”

“I promise, I won’t,” Luke said, even though it was just a promised token of compliance. His thoughts jumped to the lightsaber, safely hidden in the fresher, just a few steps away from them.

Vader was silent for a moment and Luke imagined he could feel his father’s eyes scanning him. He concentrated as much as possible on his shields to conceal his thoughts and to firmly close off his mind against Vader or else Vader would stop him.

“Very well.” Vader finally let up his probe, satisfied that Luke would do as told. “We are scheduled to depart tomorrow at midday. The Emperor has decreed that we are to attend the public executions of enemies of the empire scheduled for tomorrow at dawn. Palpatine will attend them as well, so you will have to focus closely on your shielding and...”

Luke had stopped listening. He stared in utter disbelief at Vader, mutely forming the words ‘public execution’ with his lips. He felt the blood drain from his cheeks, but Vader didn’t seem to notice Luke’s shock.

“I-I can't do that. Please, don't make me,” Luke implored.

“Luke-“

“Please, Father. I can’t do this. I won’t-”

Vader caught Luke’s wrist and pulled him closer. “Calm down, young one. Train yourself in a neutral expression and ensure you maintain your shielding. You can and you will endure this.”

Luke swallowed around the heavy lump that had formed in his throat. Vader gave him a pat on the shoulder, seemingly satisfied. “Rest now.”

He turned and left without another glance at Luke.

Luke balled his hands into fists as he watched Vader’s cape whip out of sight just before the door slid shut again. Whatever Vader had said, he just couldn’t pretend to be unfazed when forced to attend one of the grisly public executions the Emperor enjoyed so much. Involuntarily Luke thoughts drifted to the lightsaber hidden in the fresher.

He had no choice. He just needed to find a way out of this.

+++

Chapter Text

+++

Luke had curled himself up in the only comfortable chair the sparsely furnished suite provided. He had pushed the chair as close as possible to the view pane so he could gaze down on the vast city stretching out in front of him. He could get lost in staring at it and all he wanted to do now was rest.

But the Imperials clearly had something else in mind than to leave him in peace. All too soon a sharp knock on his door interrupted the peace of the apartment. An aide stood in the door, a huge bundle of fabric under his arms. Luke eyed him with a frown as he dropped his load on the bed.

“Put this on.”

“Why?”

“Because Lord Vader commanded so,” the aide snapped back. His voice left little room for argument. “I can stay to help you in case you need assistance.”

Luke sighed. He didn’t like it, but there was little use in fighting this. “Fine,” he conceded. “I’ll put them on.”

The aide hovered annoyingly.

“Do you mind?” Luke gestured mildly to the door.

Finally, with a sour glance, the man left and Luke gave the neatly wrapped dark garments a closer look. He unfolded the bundle. Two metal braces fell out and landed on the bed. Luke picked them up. He had seen something like them before. His adoptive father wore such vambraces with the formal style he favored. Luke picked up one of them and brushed his finger over the cool metal, thinking of all the times he had helped his father put them on.

It dawned on him where this was going.

Sure enough, when he had finished putting the garments on, Luke went to the fresher to examine his reflection in the large mirror. It was a tunic with a high collar, formal pants, a woolen cape draping over his right shoulder, and the vambraces covering the lower arms. He had seen his father wear this kind of clothing often. It was an echo of the ceremonial wear of the Alderaanian knights of old, when Alderaan hadn't yet been the peaceful planet that it was now. Except where Bail Organa favored lighter, brighter colors, these garments were pitch black and grey and they were adorned with the Imperial cog, stitched into the hem of the cape and stamped on the vambraces and the buckle of the belt.

It was a deliberate provocation, fabricated by the Emperor, Luke was sure of it. Palpatine was certainly enjoying himself, having Luke decked out like a small and twisted Imperial version of his father to be paraded around on Vader’s leash for the galaxy’s dignitaries to see.

He glared at his own reflection.

But that wasn’t the only change he could spot in himself. It hadn’t struck him as much in the small mirror that hung in the fresher on board the Executor , but here Luke thought that his face looked slimmer and definitely paler than he used to look in the happier days on Alderaan. But it wasn’t just that. Maybe it was just the time that had passed, but Luke couldn’t help the feeling that he had changed in many ways. He felt like he had lost the lightheartedness and carefreeness that he was sure he had possessed before.

Would he ever regain it? For a long as the Emperor lived, he’d remain a prisoner of that cursed despot and sometimes Luke doubted that Vader had a truly vested interest in disposing of the Emperor and letting him go.

Luke ran a hand through his hair, hoping to mess up the still much too short, no-nonsense cut. He needed to chase away such dim thoughts. They wouldn’t help him tonight.

Luke picked at the black tunic. It was wider cut than the usual ones he had been provided on the Executor . A grin stole over Luke’s face. The Emperor sought to show him and his father up, but it would serve Luke just right. The tunic provided ample space to tuck the lightsaber and safely hide it from prying eyes, and the woolen cape would cover any treacherous bulge.

He pried with his fingers into the small niche where he had hidden the blade, afraid that someone might search this place in his absence. With relief he pulled out the lightsaber. A familiar warmth soaked through him when he wrapped his fingers around the hilt.

A glimmer of doubt crept through him, but Luke brushed it off. He stuffed the lightsaber into the folds of the tunic. He checked his reflection once more with a critical eye. Luke brushed over the fabric, straightening it. No one would be able to guess that he was hiding anything.

Luke gave his reflection a grim, determined smile.

+++

“Wait here, sir,” his escort informed him curtly and Luke was left standing in a large anteroom. There was no sight of Vader and the minutes Luke spent waiting under the watchful gaze of the troopers at the door dragged by like the time in Luke’s most boring school lessons. He hoped Vader would come soon and they would depart for whatever party the Emperor was giving. He pulled nervously at the cape. Finally the door opened. Luke turned, but it wasn’t Vader who was standing in the door.

Luke narrowed his eyes at the portly form of the governor of Alderaan.

The governor stepped closer, his hands clasped behind his back. He gave Luke a dismissive once over, taking in his appearance.

“Highness,” he said. Luke responded with a tight smile.

“I hope Lord Vader managed to put some much-needed sense into you,” the governor mocked. “The situation in the galaxy has changed. The senator might still indulge in the delusion that his rebellion will be tolerated, but you should by now understand the consequences of such behavior.”

Luke straightened his back and drew himself up as tall as he could manage, giving the man a cold stare. “You are mistaken if you think my father or I will ever be intimidated by such tactics,” he replied frostily.

The smile vanished from the governor’s face in an instant.

“I see how it is then,” he retorted, just as cold. “You still direly lack any respect. It will be your undoing just as it is your father’s.”

The door opened again and the black behemoth of Vader barged in. Luke was relieved that he didn’t have to spend a moment longer with that ugly toad of governor.

“I doubt the prince appreciates the amount of kindness and courtesy extended to him, Lord Vader,” the governor said, turning instantly to Vader.

Luke scowled.

Vader’s masked gaze focused on Luke and he bore slightly down on him. “You better behave yourself, boy, or you will regret it.”

Luke shot Vader a filthy look, angry at the injustice of it. But Vader didn’t see it, and if he had felt Luke’s indignation through the Force, he chose to ignore it. He had already turned and marched off, the governor in tow.

There was an icy silence between them in the stately speeder that took them the short distance from Vader’s base to the palace. Luke clambered from the speeder the second it stopped outside the grand entrance to the huge structure of the Imperial palace, the evening sky bleeding red with the last rays of sunlight above them. Luke was glad to flee the open sneering of the governor and Vader’s irritation that made the confined space of the speeder seem downright claustrophobic.

Vader brushed past him and made his way into the palace without waiting for his entourage to keep up. The portly governor hastened after him, clearly keen to bank in on his newfound importance that allowed him to arrive with the Emperor’s right hand man as much as he could. Luke didn’t mind that it left him a few steps behind them with the accompanying aides and guards. This way at least he had the chance to take a good look around. The vast entrance hall was lined with massive walls of black stone and red-tinted, cut-glass window. It was buzzing with people. The polished floor of rare blue Ithoorian marble was decorated with a huge black imperial cog.

Luke scaled the large, wide-swung staircase, leading up to the second floor, behind Vader. At the top of the stairs, right opposite the main entrance, and standing out from the rest of the artwork, hung a larger-than-life portrait of a beautiful brunette woman, wearing a blue, flowing gown and an elaborate headdress. But that wasn’t what caught Luke’s attention. It was her huge, brown eyes which seemed to eerily catch Luke’s gaze. They gave him an odd sense of familiarity. He was sure that he had seen that woman before. When Luke had reached the end of the stairs Luke spotted the huge, gold plaque underneath it. It read:

Queen, Senator, Friend. In memory of Padme Amidala who lost her life in the Jedi Rebellion.

Vader and his entourage marched on, the Dark Lord not sparing the painting a single glance, but Luke stopped short and stared up the portrait again.

Padme.

It had been the name of his mother, Bail and Breha had told him as much. What if this wasn’t a coincidence? Could this be his birth mother? Luke let his eyes trail over the woman’s fine cheekbones and lips, searching for what else was giving him this sense of deja-vu.

“Bring him.”

Luke’s head snapped to the side at the cold growl. His brain was stuttering to a halt when he spotted Vader, who had stopped a few steps down the hall. All eyes of their entourage seemed to be focused on him, but even more keenly Luke could feel Vader’s stifling anger permeating the space between them. He felt like he was caught in the searchlight of an Imperial walker. Two troopers made their way swiftly back to where Luke had hung back and pushed him forward to Vader.

With a lot more force than necessary, Vader caught Luke’s chin, forcing him to raise his head.

“You will stay at my side or I have methods to ensure that you do,” Vader snarled. Luke recoiled at the dark tones and the undiluted, boiling anger behind it. Vader stabbed his gloved finger at him. “I have no patience for you today, Highness.”

The governor at Vader’s side grinned.

Luke didn't dare to answer anything. Vader let go of his chin abruptly and he turned on his heel, his cape snapping at Luke’s legs. The governor, giving Luke another smug look, followed.

Luke hastened after Vader too, not only because the troopers were moving in to enforce Vader’s command if necessary, but also because the question was still burning on his mind. He reached out through the Force, hoping to ask Vader about the woman in the portrait, but his probe was blocked by Vader’s shields. Luke frowned. Never before had his father been completely closed off to him, nor had he felt this cold and dangerous in a very long while.

The towering hallway of the Grand Corridor they were heading down became more and more crowded the further they made it into the palace structure until they arrived outside what had to be the main ballroom. Luke slowed down at the end of the line of finely dressed dignitaries and officials at the door that waited to be checked for entry and formally announced. With worry he noted the guards scanning the people making it into the room with sensors, searching for hidden weapons and items. Luke’s heart pounded in his chest. If they were to find the lightsaber-

But Vader didn’t miss a step. His hand snatched out and caught Luke’s arm. Vader forged on, sweeping past the dismayed stewards and guards at the entrance and the rows of soldiers of the honor guard, but no one dared to bother him. Luke struggled to keep up with Vader’s wide strides. Vader pushed him through the door.

Compared to the softly lit corridor, entering the vast hall beyond was almost blinding. All the wealth in the galaxy seemed to sparkle back at Luke. The lights of the room bounced back from the mirrored, old-fashioned chandeliers dangling from the ceiling, illuminating the lavishly decorated walls full of expensive artwork. Huge carved pillars supported the crystal ceiling.

An aide hastened to them, engaging Vader in conversation and finally Vader released his painful grip on Luke’s arm. Luke indignantly rubbed his arm. While his father was momentarily preoccupied, Luke had the chance to study the assembled people.

The vast room was packed with people in ornate dresses, some of them in ridiculously overdone outfits. The colorful crowd was interspersed with the white armor of the stormtroopers providing security and the dark red livery of servants carrying trays of drinks and food around to offer them to the guests. There were barely any non-humans in sight, unsurprising considering the Empire’s Human High Culture policy that barred many aliens from attaining positions of influence or power, but Luke managed to spot the distinct towering, two-horned form of the Emperor’s Grand Vizier Mas Amedda and a few other well-known faces.

To the far side of the vast hall, up a few steps where the crowd respectfully thinned was a finely adorned throne. It was empty and Luke was grateful for that. He had no wish to ever meet the Emperor in person. Despite the Emperor’s absence, a pair of crimson-clad guards were positioned on either side of the throne.

Luke tore his gaze from them. He threw Vader a glance, but he still seemed deeply in conversation with the aide. Luke continued to scan the crowd.

Not far away from him a red-haired woman with a stern short cut and wrapped in flowing white robes was eying him with interest. When Luke spotted her, she gave him a surprisingly warm smile. She started to walk over to them and Luke took a step toward her. But before she reached him,  the familiar grasp of the gloved hand clamped around his shoulder again.

“Do I have to put you on a tether?” Vader snarled.

Luke glowered, but kept quiet. Once more he tried to reach out to Vader through the Force to let his father know about his unhappiness, but Vader’s mind was still as tightly closed off to him as before. A sense of Vader’s dark and dangerous mind lingered with Luke even after he had given up on his attempt.

A tingling feeling at the back of his mind caught Luke’s attention. It was the same as he had felt earlier in the senate. He turned, prompted by the Force. There he was. Bail. He was at the end of the room, but he had spotted Luke first. Luke tried a small smile, but it froze on his face when he heard Vader growl.

Vader’s grip on his arm tightened considerably, and this time Luke couldn’t suppress a wince. He pulled Luke away from where Bail stood, but even after they had crossed half the room, Vader would not let him go. He steered Luke around the room like an obstinate dewback. His harsh grip around Luke’s arm never let up.

The crowd parted with ease despite the room being packed to the brim. No one wanted to stand in the way of an irate Lord Vader. Finally, Vader’s direction settled with determination on the tight knot of drab uniformed men standing together in a corner, far away from the delegation from Alderaan.

Luke’s heart sank. This would prove to be a long evening.

+++

“There, Senator. They are arriving. He… Stars .”

Captain Antilles' words made Bail’s heart sink. He turned around to see for himself. Sure enough, the distinct form of Lord Vader was driving a wedge through the chattering crowd. And there, in Vader’s shadow, was his son.

Bail had to smile despite himself. Luke had been dressed in robes just like his, down to the vambraces and the thick, black wool cape wrapped around his too-slight shoulders. He indulged himself for a moment, overlooking the obvious and deliberate provocation of decking the boy out like the father and the Imperial cog decorating the tunic and scarf, and just felt pride for his son.

Proud at how grown up he looked, how well he carried himself despite the situation he was in, despite being pulled through the crowd by Lord Vader himself. The wool cape fanned out behind him like his captor’s as Luke marched through the room, his steps measured, his spine straight and his head held high.

He was almost out of sight, lost between the chattering crowd, when the boy turned his head and looked right at him. For another fleeting moment their eyes met before Vader whisked Luke behind one of the large pillars lining the hall. Bail’s smile lingered on his face even after his son was out of sight.

+++

Luke had heard Bail often adopt a Coruscanti accent whenever he was here during his senate meetings. He remembered that he and Breha had teased Bail about it whenever the stilted accent had seeped into his voice when they had spoken on the holocom while Bail had to stay on the capital planet or when it lingered even after his return home.

Now Luke could easily imagine why. It seemed that almost everybody around him tried to imitate the clipped and posh local accent to sound like they belonged to the court or at least were part of the capital’s upper-class.

What pretentious gits, the whole lot of him, Luke thought. How could anyone stand this posturing and faked importance of the court?

Luke shifted on his feet. He was tiring fast from standing around with nothing to do. Vader’s hand landed almost instantly on his shoulder to pull him closer again. For the whole time they were at the party, Vader wasn’t paying him any attention nor did he speak any word with him other than to keep him close at his heel. Luke threw Vader a covert glance from the corner of his eyes. Vader was still radiating a barely concealed annoyance and Luke had the feeling it was anger at Luke’s supposed disobedience.

It didn’t stop Luke from keeping an eye out for Bail. Throughout the evening, he had tried again and again to see his adoptive father in the crowd, but from the corner he was boxed in, he couldn’t spot him. It was oh so tempting to try and find Bail, if only to briefly speak to or touch him, before they would be separated by lightyears again for what could be months and even years. But Vader’s dire warning echoed in Luke’s ears and with Vader’s foul mood, Luke would rather not test his father’s patience right now. Instead, Luke tried to distract himself by watching the guests around them.

Lord Vader’s presence was sure to attract a never-ending stream of dignitaries seeking to greet him and to curry favor with him. Not that they seemed overly successful, considering Vader’s snappy retorts and barely veiled threats to keep the sycophants at bay. Maybe this was the reason why he had taken up position among the assembled officers as they seemed mostly content with standing in the Dark Lord’s proximity and weren’t engaging him in conversation. They sipped on their drinks, small talking about the latest military campaigns or glorifying the vicious tactics of the Emperor as if Luke wasn’t even present.

Luke did his best not to listen. Instead he noted a greying man with a receding hairline, dressed in the drab colored uniform who approached them swiftly. “Lord Vader, a rare pleasure to see you here.”

“Moff Tarkin,” Vader acknowledged the man, inclining his head ever so slightly, and Luke remembered the name from the datapads that his father had given him. He was one of the Emperor’s favorites, poised to take command of the despicable, planet-destroying battle station.

The man’s watery blue eyes fell on Luke and a small smile quirked up the corner of his mouth. “But of course. It seems you aren’t free to enjoy the evening while you are forced to perform babysitting duty.”

Luke felt his own temper rise at the dismissive tones. He squared his shoulders and met the moffs gaze head on. He would not let any of them belittle him. The moff sized him up before turning back to Vader.

“I trust you have been briefed on the situation on Ryloth, Lord Vader.”

“I have,” Vader answered curtly.

“Governor Trowe will contain the uprising swiftly,” another officer bellowed, his cheeks already flushed with the glow of alcohol. “Those savages are no match for the might of the Empire.”

The broad-shouldered man spun and called with a booming voice for a servant to bring more drinks. He snatched the drink on the offered tray with a wide movement that almost managed to sweep the entire tray of glasses.

The moff set his mouth in a hard line, looking piqued at the officer’s behavior but didn’t say anything. Instead he turned his attention back to Vader.

“I am sure. Yet it is good that we will have cleaner and more permanent methods to deal with such incidents in the future,” the moff said. His eyes fell on Luke again, eying him with the malicious intensity of a hawk-bat circling its prey. Luke forced himself to stand his ground.

A false smile curled up the moff’s lips. “There is no room in the new order for old fashioned traditions and mentality. Every planet has to make sacrifices to ensure peace and stability, and if some do not want to carry their part of the burden then they have no place in this galaxy.”

Luke balled his hands into fists, his temper slipping rapidly. He could still very well remember the moon-sized battle station that lurked in a remote system of the galaxy, ready to be handed into the hands of this cruel man, who was already itching to unleash it upon Luke’s people.

Luke positively shook with anger. Again a heavy gloved hand fell on his shoulder, pulling him back. It didn’t escape the moff’s notice.

“I see that Lord Vader has you well trained,” Tarkin commented, before turning away from him dismissively. Luke bit his lip to keep quiet. The moff instead turned back to the officer with the booming voice.

“Admiral, I would think home fleet is lacking the necessary leadership while you are planetside,” Tarkin remarked, eying him with barely concealed disapproval.

“Nonsense, Captains Ornil and Torrin are more than capable of handling it on their own,” the man thundered, gesticulating wildly so that he spilled half his drink. The Admiral took another deep gulp from the glass in his hands, even though he seemed to have had one drink too many. He turned to Takin and patted him on the back with enough force to make the Moff, who had just raised his own glass, swallow up a too big sip himself. Tarkin bestowed upon the admiral a look of utmost contempt.

Vader’s hand on his shoulder gave him a small push. Vader steered him once again through the crowd. Luke hoped dearly that this meant that they were finally leaving. Perhaps Vader had had enough of this senseless posturing and babbling himself. The air in the hallway outside the ballroom felt refreshingly cool. Luke tried to let Vader feel his gratitude over their shared bond, but he aborted the attempt. Vader still seemed angry and Luke didn’t want to test his father’s fragile temper. So Luke let his father push him away from the party, hoping they soon could talk again.

But they didn’t seem to be headed for the entrance hall and back to the speeder that would take them to the blissfully quiet apartment above Vader’s military base. The noise of the party grew fainter until the only noise was their steps through the long, deserted corridors leading them further into the palace.

Vader was pushing him on with the same strong grip on his shoulder. His silence was unnerving. Once more Luke reached out with the Force, hoping to find a way through his father’s tight mental shields, but Vader would not share any of his thoughts and feelings with him. He had no idea what had caused Vader’s dark and dangerous mood, so he just hastened on to keep up with Vader’s strides.

They stepped into a small turbolift and Luke turned to Vader, intent on asking him what was going on. Before he could do more than open his mouth, Vader’s hand already pressed over his lips, silencing him. Luke stared with wide eyes, but when Vader released him he didn’t dare to speak up.

The turbolift opened and Luke found himself in a long corridor lined with stone columns, with windows in between, the impressive night sky scattered with illuminated skyscrapers beyond the view panes. At the far end of the corridor, two royal guards clad in their usual crimson robes, force pikes in hand, stood unmoving, and Luke’s steps faltered as comprehension slid home.

Vader shoved his hand against Luke’s back to make him speed up again.

“Walk.”

+++

Chapter Text

+++

The large throne room was quiet like a tomb, the cloying silence only broken by the steps of their small procession. Vader brusquely marched ahead without looking back, his black cape fanned out and snatched against Luke’s ankles every few steps. From the corner of his eyes, Luke saw that two red clothed guards had started tailing them. They stayed very close at Luke’s heels. Inadvertently, Luke hurried his steps to stay closer to Vader rather than them.

The room was only dimly lit. It was hard to tell its dimensions as the walls were cast in shadows and Luke couldn’t make out the ceiling in the subdued lighting. In dark nooks to the side, hints of crimson red indicated more guards posted, silently watching their way in.

Luke crossed through the length of the room behind Vader until they came to the foot of the stairs leading up to the throne, where a figure dressed in black was seated.

Vader marched up the first flight of steps to the throne, but when Luke tried to follow, bracing himself for what would follow, he was held back harshly by the royal guards at his side, clutching his shoulders. Vader scaled the stairs without a glance back and stopped on the first platform, a respectful distance away from the throne. He eased himself onto one knee and lowered his head in supplication. Luke watched the scene in front of him with dismay. It felt wrong to see someone so powerful and frightening in his own right to kneel before this wretched man.

Luke swallowed. He set his jaw and stared straight at the hooded figure occupying the throne, determined not to show his unease. Luke had seen the Emperor before, at least in holos and in the decidedly flattering portrait that hung in the Alderaanian reception hall. His adoptive father had made sure it hung in the darkest and most drafty spot of the hall, when it was made the law to put up a picture of the sovereign. He had explained to Luke that the Jedi’s last desperate attempt to prevent Palpatine’s seizure of power, had left the despot disfigured and withered. But no holo had managed to prepare Luke for actually seeing the man up close.

His skin was as pale as that of a corpse and heavily furrowed. The flesh sagged from his bulging temple and around his piercing, yellow eyes that seemed to catch Luke’s own even while they were focused on Vader. Only with difficulty, Luke managed to look away. He could feel the Emperor’s suffocating, sinister aura, a suffocating vile and evil presence that seemed to lay him bare and vulnerable. Luke concentrated with all he had on his shields, but it seemed a futile, feeble effort confronted with such dark power.The cowl of his black robe was shadowing the upper part of the Emperor’s face, making his decaying teeth, exposed by a satisfied grin, stand out even more.

“Rise, Lord Vader,” the Emperor rasped. “As always it is a pleasure to have you here, my friend. Too seldom does your way cross with the capital.”

Vader rose to his feet. “My duties do not allow for more frequent visits, Master,” he replied.

“Ah, of course, most commendable indeed. But now that I have the luxury of having you here, I am most curious to hear what you recommend resolving the situation Ryloth?”

“I recommend decisive action to prevent the fire of rebellion from spreading across other systems. The local governor is incapable of handling the uprising.”

“I see, we are in agreement as usual,” the Emperor nodded, his smirk widening. “Once your work here is done, you may take your fleet to punish the people of Ryloth. Show them the consequences of their defiance.”

“As you command.”

They were talking as if Luke wasn’t even present. Incensed Luke listened as Vader seemed to agree with everything the Emperor said. No matter what atrocity they were planning, his father was all too easily approving, even suggesting them himself. Was he really on Luke’s side when it came to dispose of the dangerous despot? Luke shifted his weight on his feet, tiring from standing still this long. The Emperor’s piercing gaze fixed on him in an instant, no longer pretending that he didn’t see him.

“So, this is the young Prince of Alderaan.”

Luke was pushed forward by the red guards flanking him and up the first flight of stairs. Their hold on him vanished, but the guards stayed close behind him. Vader took his position to the right of the Emperor, his impassive mask fixed on Luke.

“I have heard a lot about you, young man,” the Emperor said. “How kind of you to decide to pay an old man a visit.”

Luke drew his head up and gave the Emperor a cool stare. “I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t had me dragged from my home and ordered me held against my will.”

The Emperor’s gaze pierced him and the guards behind Luke shifted. Luke tensed, sure that he had gone too far, until a short, rasping laugh rang out.

“Ah, the spirit of youth. I understand your discontent, my young friend. I would have never condoned such an action if it weren’t for the greater good,” the Emperor said in his hoarse voice, genuine regret and sympathy in his voice. “But surely you understand that keeping peace and stability are the highest goals I strive for. Sometimes I am forced to do it through methods that aren’t the ones I favor. Difficult decisions fall onto my shoulders.”

The Emperor bestowed a wide, grandfatherly smile upon him.

Luke blinked in confusion. This wasn’t the reaction he had expected. But the Emperor was right, wasn’t he? If it would save lives, then Luke should be proud to help with it, no matter what he’d be asked to do. What was his personal freedom against galactic peace? Maybe the Emperor wasn’t as bad as Bail had always said. Everything he said rang true and genuine.

Yet there was a slither of doubt in the back of Luke’s mind. Something was off, but he couldn’t quite place it. It took Luke another long moment of racing thoughts to place the feeling and to shake himself back to reality. The Emperor was using the Force to bewitch and trick him. Luke glared. He would not allow the corrupt man to mislead him.

Luke raised his chin. “I won’t let you deceive me. I demand to be released immediately,” he said loudly and clearly.

The Emperor’s false smile vanished in a heartbeat and his tone became much rougher.“Insolent child.”

The red guards at Luke’s side acted swiftly as Palpatine waved his hand dismissively. Rough armored hands grabbed for his shoulders and with a well-aimed kick in the back of his knees, Luke was sent to the floor. He landed hard on his knees. The pressure of armored hands on his shoulders disappeared instantly, but Luke didn’t dare to get back on his feet.

The Emperor got up from his throne and walked down the steps, slowly, each step accentuated by the sharp clack of his walking stick on the shiny floor. He stopped in front of Luke. The guards at his side retreated a few steps, as if daring him to try anything. Luke didn’t move. He was sure it would end poorly for him if he did.

“Now that is much better,” the Emperor mocked. His false sweet smile was back. “This is where you and your father belong.”

Luke gritted his teeth.

The Emperor reached with gnarly fingers for Luke’s chin and tilted his head up. Luke tried to pull away from his grip, but he was held fast with a surprising strength. Luke glared as the Emperor brushed with his other hand over his cheek, mockingly tender. He ran a spindly finger over Luke’s lip. Luke cringed back in disgust at the sensation.

“Don’t touch me,” Luke snarled, but his anger only seemed to widen the Emperor’s smile.

“So much anger, so much defiance. If only you could see that I have only the best for you and your family in mind.”

Luke glared. He hoped that his shields would be enough to withstand the intense scrutiny of the Emperor. Palpatine dug a sharp, pointy fingernail into Luke’s chin, breaking the skin. He pulled the finger down, leaving a burning trail of pain on his cheek. Luke winced, but he swallowed his outrage as genuine fear took hold of him.

The Emperor patted his head in approval.

“But it seems that you still can be trained,” he said, voice sounding soft again. “You need to learn that you are mine, child. Every being in this galaxy is mine and I can do with them as I please.”

Luke bit his tongue. He was relieved when the Emperor let his hand fall to his side and he took a step back from Luke.

“I have a proposal for you, child. You need not suffer for your misguided father’s delinquencies. Swear the oath to me now and tomorrow you shall become Senator of Alderaan yourself.”

Luke was momentarily stunned by that unexpected offer.

“Your first task will be to attend the executions scheduled for tomorrow at my side. The convicted hail from your very home planet, young Prince of Alderaan. Yet while Bail Organa signed their sentences himself,” the Emperor said in a mockingly saddened tone. “It seems the viceroy is not willing to watch the deed done. How pathetic.”

“My father would never do that!” Luke protested, a cold feeling of dread in his stomach at the mention of the executions. But no matter what, he wouldn’t allow the Emperor to taint his adoptive father’s image with such lies. Yet his denial sounded hollow in his own ears and it only managed to widen the Emperor’s satisfied grin.

“Oh, my poor, deluded child,” he said in a sickly-sweet voice. “I fear it is time you understand that your father isn't who you think he is.

Luke’s eyes involuntarily darted to Vader who was watching them impassively. Reminding himself of his father’s presence however helped him to gather new strength. He narrowed his eyes. This was just another attempt of the Emperor to mislead and manipulate him.

“And at what price would your offer come?” he asked, his voice thankfully steady.

The Emperor took half a step back.

“Ah, what acumen you already exhibit at such tender age. But my offer has no price, no conditions other than I need to request you to stay here, so you may learn under the tutelage of experienced and loyal members of the senate.”

Luke huffed disparagingly. “I must decline. You’d just replace your watchdog with another. I won't be a docile puppet for you to control nor will I be cowed by you, just like my father.”

The Emperor’s face hardened for a split second and he measured Luke up with a cold look. But the moment passed quickly and the mocking smile was back.

“You have your father’s fire, child. But it seems to me that Bail Organa is quite subdued after all,” the Emperor said, voice sharp and cold.“Did you know that your father requested to resign from the Senate? His high morals and the noble wish to serve the people seemed to be nothing to him when compared to an ungrateful brat like you. How inspiring for his people,” he taunted. “What else do you think he would do to save you from pain and suffering, child? Shall I have him summoned to see just how much he loves you? Shall we see how long it will take him until he realizes he will never receive you back in one piece? Would he offer to take your place?”

Luke could feel the blood drain from his cheeks during the Emperor’s lecture. His hands were shaking.

“You vile, evil-“

The Emperor’s friendly act dropped with frightening speed. He raised his hand and hit Luke soundly across his cheek. Luke’s head whipped to the side and burning pain erupted where he had been struck. Palpatine captured his chin again and held it tightly, forcing him to look back up at the awful grimace. His fingernails dug painfully into Luke’s skin.

“You are an impertinent child. I will do your father the generous favor to educate you,” the Emperor spat in his face. “I would leave it to Lord Vader, but it seems he has become quite soft if he has not yet managed to break your defiance yet. How disappointing,” he remarked with a scathing glance to where Vader stood.

He let go abruptly of Luke and took a step back. Luke scrambled to his feet, but he had nowhere to flee. The Emperor leisurely raised a hand toward him.

“Allow me then to teach you some sorelylacking manners, boy.”

Luke’s eyes widened and he felt a prickling sensation in the back of his mind, something he had long come to associate with the Force warning him of imminent danger. A split second later blinding bolts of energy, evil lightning, shot from the Emperor's hand right at him. Luke’s breath stuck in his throat and he was propelled backward by the force of the impact and fell hard to the floor with a throat tearing scream.

+++

Bail placed the glass down on the table with more force than necessary, spilling a good amount of the Brentaalian wine. This was all wrong. His son was in danger and he couldn’t just stay here and pretend that he had tried everything already. Not after what had happened today. Not after he had witnessed how Vader had dragged off his resisting prisoner like a ragdoll.

“Senator? Are you-” Captain Antilles began.

“This is it. I will not stand by idly when-“ Bail swallowed the words on his tongue. He couldn’t bring himself to say out loud in what way Vader could be brutalizing Luke right now.

“Wait, Sir. What do you plan to do?”

“I will find the prince and bring him back. Even if I have to go all the way to the Emperor.”

“Senator, no! I must advise you not to act rashly. The Emperor might not even see you.”

Bail didn’t listen anymore. He had heard these arguments a thousand times over, he had believed them long enough. He would not remain quiet a single day longer.

“Senator, please this is madness-“ Captain Antilles called out behind him, but Bail didn’t stop. Decisively, he pushed his way through the crowd, the feeling of utter urgency still lingering with him.

If he had to offer himself up to save his son, he'd gladly do it.

+++

Another brutal barrage of lightning burst from the Emperor’s hands and engulfed Luke. A high pitch scream tore at his abused vocal cords as searing pain raced through his body, ebbing away into shallow gasps when the Emperor let up his attack.

“Ah, you scream beautifully, boy. I have enjoyed seeing you tormented at Lord Vader’s hand, did you know that? But I prefer to hear you scream at my feet.”

Palpatine raised his hand again, his grin freezing into a frightening grimace as he channeled the raw power of the dark side again. Luke fumbled with his hands, but all he could reach was the lowest step. He clung onto it for leverage as the next waves of energy bolted through him, bringing blazing pain.

Then it abruptly ended. and he lay once more panting for air. Small shudders ran painfully through his limbs as his abused muscles still spasmed. Over the rush in his ears Luke could hear steps as the Emperor calmly approached him, but he couldn’t see them over the dancing stars clouding his vision.

A harsh kick into his side made Luke grunt. He tried to protect his vulnerable side with his arms. A blur of red and Luke was helpless when the armored hands grasped for his shoulders and turned Luke to his back. He gasped at the flaring pain brought by the movement.

“Maybe we have found a new use for you,” the Emperor mocked. “At least you may entertain me for a while like this.”

Luke blinked rapidly to chase away the dancing stars clouding his eyes. He searched for Vader past the hooded figure of the looming Emperor. Blurrily he saw his father where he stood motionless next to the throne, indifferent to his plight.

“Father…” Luke whispered weakly. He tried to reach for Vader with hand, but he couldn’t muster enough strength for it. He felt like life itself was dripping from him. Vader had betrayed him, he’d never save him from his own Master.

He didn’t even seem to hear him, but the Emperor had.

“Father?” he mocked him. He stood right above him, the hem of his robes brushing over him, making shiver in discomfort. “Aren’t you a little disappointment for your sire? Imagine what high hopes he must have had in you and now all you are is a dim, weak child.” The Emperor crouched next to Luke. A spindly finger ran across Luke’s cheek, mockingly tender.

Father, Luke thought desperately. Help me, please.

Luke squeezed his eyes shut, if only to block out the cruel grin of the man above him. He heaved in a shuddering breath. That was when he noticed something hard pressing uncomfortable in his side, the discomfort almost completely eclipsed by the pain wrecking his whole body. For a moment, Luke was confused as to what it was. But then he remembered. It was the lightsaber he had hidden in his tunic, long before he had known what would happen.

It was a moment of clarity. The pain in his body dulled as Luke focused on the lightsaber. It was as if it was singing to him, a quite hum that helped him to concentrate and gather determination and fresh resolve. The Emperor was speaking again, but his words didn’t register with Luke. It was of no consequence what that vile man was taunting him with.

Now Luke knew with certainty what he had to do. He could see the path ahead of him, the path the Force had guided him on. His father would not come to his aide. He could not come for help. It had to be the other way around. Luke needed to come to the help of Vader and of Bail and of every being in this galaxy. It was worth this sacrifice that it would cost him.

“Why do you force me to do this to you, child?” the Emperor mocked. “Why can’t you see that I only have the best for you in my mind?”

“Father…” Luke said even more quietly, like a mantra for him to concentrate over the haze in his mind. His mind was spinning, but he could feel the Force lingering at the back of his mind, beckoningly. Luke grasped for it like it was his final straw. “Father…”

“Your father cannot help you now.” The Emperor was watching him closely, his face just inches from Luke’s. His shriveled lips parted in an ugly grin. “Only I can end your suffering.”

“Father…” Luke repeated, the word barely a whisper.

“I grow tired of you, boy,” the Emperor said disparagingly. “Perhaps I should kill you now and put you out of your misery.”

From the corner of his eyes, Luke thought he could see the black form of Vader shift. With a pang of sadness, Luke regretted that he hadn’t had the chance to say goodbye to either of his fathers.

Rough hands grasping his collar ripped Luke from his thoughts. The Emperor pulled him up to his knees with a surprising strength. Luke was too exhausted to fight him, so he just hung limply in in his hold.

Luke focused his remaining strength on his shields, praying to the stars that it would be enough to keep out Palpatine’s prying mind, as he raised his eyes to defiantly meet the Emperor’s gaze.

The Emperor leaned in closer to hear him, his lips once again split in a contemptuous grin. “You are a foolish little child.” Palpatine brushed his finger mockingly tender over Luke's split lip and Luke tasted the cover of his own blood.

Luke gathered every last bit of strength that he could muster and let the lightsaber slip from the tunic into his hand. He took a shuddering breath, his eyes unblinkingly fixed on Palpatine’s sickly ember stare. The Emperor was close, so close to him. Luke could feel the man’s foul breath ghost over his face and it made him feel nauseous.

“F-for my… father,” he whispered as he pressed the hilt of the lightsaber against the Emperor’s stomach. His thumb found the toggle to ignite the blade and he pressed it.

Luke’s eyes were still glued on the Emperor’s as the deadly beam of energy erupted from the hilt just a split second later. The Emperor’s eyes widened as he realized his mistake, realized he had been played and tricked.

But then his eyes narrowed in hate and anger and his hands grappled for Luke’s throat, gnarly fingers closing around his throat with terrifying strength. He cut off Luke’s air for long, horrible moments. Luke lay trapped, unable to muster the strength to even move his hands still clutched around the hilt. Darkness began to cloud his vision.

Finally the emperor slumped heavily on Luke, the murderous gleam in his eyes dying. The frightening grasp around Luke’s neck softened ever so slightly, allowing Luke to drag in a labored, rasping breath. But he was still held pinned by the man’s sheer weight. Luke’s lay helpless underneath him as he disengaged the blade with a last effort. It disappeared into the dead body. Around the hands still wrapped too tight around Luke’s throat, he dragged in painful gasps.

Angry shouts erupted around him as Luke lay stiff and helpless. He could hear hurried steps and shouts calling him a traitor as the royal guards rushed in to come to their ruler’s aide. Luke lay still, the Emperor’s dead face inches from his. This was it. He would die now. He could hear the sharp crackle of the fully charged force pikes and knew they were aimed for him.

Luke closed his eyes. He could still feel the agonizing bolts of lightning running through his body. He should welcome the darkness beckoning him, even as with a sad twinge he thought of Bail and Breha and of Vader, whom he hoped would understand that he was now finally free from his master.

The noise of fighting was close to his ears. Grunts and shouts, indistinguishable over the rush in his ears. Luke tried to mobilize his last energy to see what was going on, but he could not even bring himself to open his eyes one last time.

+++

The outpouring bolts from the Emperor's fingers increased in intensity and the sound of Luke’s high-pitched screaming swept through the room.

Vader, from his position next to the throne, watched in rising fear and worry as his son kept marching further and further out onto the thin ice his master was luring him. But he couldn’t move, couldn’t help his son or both their lives would be forfeit. There was no way for him to intervene without betraying his true loyalties and Palpatine’s revenge on both of them would be swift and final.

In the shadow of the walls the royal guards were positioned, watching just as passively as him as yet another victim falls prey to their master’s apparent frailty which was nothing but a font for him to unleash his cruelty and sadism behind closed doors.

He shouldn’t have brought his son here, he should have tried to make excuses why he couldn’t present the prince. Now it was too late.

Son, please, he thought desperately as Luke writhed in pain when a new wave of dark side energy washing over his body.

Palpatine hadn’t really intended to kill Luke, he still needed the boy, Vader was certain of it. But if Luke wouldn’t stop soon letting himself be provoke he would in real danger. Time and again, Vader was helpless to watch Luke let the Emperor goad him and then bear the punishment. This was not how they agreed Luke should act at all. He had told the boy to keep his head down. But so close to his Master, Vader couldn’t warn Luke, not out loud anyway, and also not through the Force.

Once more the lightning from his Master’s hands subsided and Vader hoped with every fiber of his being that he would leave the boy alone now. Luke’s presence in the Force was already weakened, pulsing feebly through the Force. Surely his Master felt this too and would let the boy go.

But it seemed his Master’s desire to torment the prince hadn’t been sated yet. Palpatine leaned in to the prone form on the floor at his feet and pulled the unresisting boy to his knees. He hung passively in his grasp, seemingly unable to move. Vader shifted restlessly on his feet.

He felt a sudden tiny flare through the Force, a hint of determination and resolve. It was fleeting and gone in an instant. Vader watched stunned as the unmistakable tip of a lightsaber stabbed through Palpatine’s body. His master slumped onto Luke, his wide robes hiding the prince from sight, his evil spirit in the Force blazing and then dying.

Vader stood glued to the spot for long moments until he was finally woken from his stupor as the royal guards, force pikes raised, rush to defend Palpatine and kill the prince. He must defend his son. He was still too many steps away and wouldn’t be able to make it in time to Luke before the first guards would reach him. Vader flung out his hands, the Dark Side fueled by his emotions and fear for his only son. He shoved the guards back with enough force to send them flying.

“He is mine,” he roared, igniting his lightsaber at the same time. It managed to stall the red guards long enough for Vader to reach where Luke lay pinned under his Master, the guards believing that he was about to punish the prince and unwilling to stand between him and his victim.

Vader swung his lightsaber, the red blade humming fiercely in his hands. Taking the guards by surprise at his move he cut down the closest two of them without meeting much resistance. But the remaining guards rallied themselves rapidly, ready to fight him to the end. There were shouts, calling him a traitor as they understood that he would defend the prince.

Vader posted himself to stand over Luke, determined not to let anyone harm Luke. It was an intense and dangerous fight with the remainder of the guard, their training extensive and the advantage of numbers on their side, but Vader’s fear for Luke drove him on.

Finally, the last opponent was disposed of. Vader wasted no time to rush to Luke’s side. He dragged his Master off Luke, carelessly hurling him to the side. Vader cradled his son’s prone body into his arms, gloved fingers brushing over the boy’s deathly pale skin. But there was no life sign, no pulse under his prosthetic fingers and no breath ghosting over blue tinted lips.

“No, Luke…”

+++

Chapter Text

+++

Incessantly, Vader brushed his hand over his son’s pale face. Through the Force he reached out with all his power, but time and again he failed to pick up the familiar sense of Luke’s presence in the Force. There was no response.

Behind his visor, Vader closed his eyes in despair. For the second time in his life he had failed the ones that deserved his protection the most. It was his fault to have brought his son here, his fault that he had failed to shelter the boy against his Master. He’d trade the whole galaxy or gladly give his own life, if only Luke would live. But it was too late. Where their bond used to be there now was only gaping nothingness.

In the void, there was tiny flicker in the Force, almost eclipsed and overshadowed by Vader’s dark thoughts and self-loathing that fueled the Dark Side more than his anger ever could. But it was undeniably his son’s signature, wavering and feeble, as it had been the very first time he had reached out to touch Vader’s mind. Vader concentrated on this small light, grasped for this flimsy tendril as if he could nurture and strengthen it through his willpower alone.

And Luke reached back to him, weakly, but determinately. Perhaps it was just an instinctual reflex of a child reaching for their parent for comfort and solace. But his son clung to Vader’s own Force probe, as if it was a lifeline. Luke’s eyelids fluttered and he stirred.

Vader patted against Luke’s cheek to raise the boy, but Luke didn’t regain fully consciousness. With a shuddering breath, the boy fell limp again. His chest now rose and fell ever so slightly, but with increasing regularity. With relief Vader cradled the slight figure against his chest once again prone and lifeless.

His feeling of relief was short-lived however.

His master lay slain. Even with all his own power and influence, Vader wouldn’t be able to cover up the Emperor’s demise for long. And once they’d be found, his and Luke’s life was in grave danger. There were too many men in the palace, many of which vetted by the Emperor personally and all fiercely loyal to him. The chances of them to make it out alive where marginal and that was not acceptable.

He could of course raise the alarm himself, present Luke as the culprit and have him safely put away under the guise of bringing the Emperor’s killer to justice. But it would be hard to for many believe and even if he’d manage to convince everyone that the prince had indeed killed the Emperor, it’d be even more difficult to explain the killed guards. No, Vader had already made his allegiance to the little prince clear when he had defended him. There would be no way back for either of them.

Perhaps there would be enough time to flee the Imperial Palace if they used the secret passage ways and tunnels that only few individuals were aware of. Through them they might make it back aboard the Executor and depart the system before the destruction in the throne room was noticed. But this plan had several shortfalls. It would be far from easy to escape unseen with the prone form of the prince of Alderaan. And Luke needed urgent medical help. Every moment that passed without such help, was endangering his son, whose life signs were still incredibly weak.

Which left only one course of action. The timing was far from ideal, his forces scattered across the galaxy and not nearly enough ships close to the core to take the capital planet. But Luke had succeeded in the impossible task of killing the master, whom Vader hadn’t dared to stand up to for so many years. Now he needed to back up his brave son with equally decisive actions and trust in the Force to guide their way.

Vader reached for his comlink, his decision made. General Veers answered his call almost immediately.

“General, I have orders for you.”

+++

From the large viewport on the bridge of the Executor, Admiral Firmus Piett stared down on the blinking orb of Coruscant. The hemisphere housing the vast Imperial palace had entered the night cycle and a myriad of lights were shining up at him after the storm that had raged over the day had passed. 

The Executor idled in orbit, waiting. Vader had left the ship more than twenty-four standard hours ago and Piett doubted he nor his son would be back anytime soon.

Vader’s son… Piett stomped on the thought, fearing the Emperor’s sheer nearness would be enough to rip the thought of this dangerous secret from him. Vader had told him of the Palpatine's ability to read minds and cautioned him against what precautions he can take to avoid this should he meet him. Luckily the Emperor had never seen it fit to have the newly minted fleet admiral of Death Squadron summoned for an audience.

Piett let his gaze trail. To their starboard side the tight knot of the Coruscant Defense Fleet hung lazily in space. The admiral eyed pensively the fleet of Star Destroyers dedicated to protecting the capital and the Emperor. There had been a time when he himself had aspired to be transferred to the prestigious division, frankly mostly because it seemed like a convenient way to get away from Vader. But his transfer requests remained unanswered and Piett wasn’t sure if it was due to his lack of connections to the wealthy and powerful or if it was secretly Vader who had made sure that none of his requests to transfer ever made it away from Death Squadron.

General Veers was still down on the planet, visiting the Imperial Army headquarter and the barracks of the planetside stationed troops of the 501st legion headquarter doing whatever army guys did. Piett wouldn’t admit it to the general, but he missed the opportunity to talk to him. It might have alleviated some of his worries and take his mind of things. Just these few hours in the core made him already long to take the Executor back, far way into the galaxy.

The buzzing of his comlink broke Piett’s musings and he pulled it out automatically. It wasn’t a caller, merely a text only message on a priority frequency: Operation Starfall commencing.

Piett stared it dumbly for a few breathless moments. This wasn’t possible. His brain failed to catch up with what he was reading. This was the signal he had long ago sworn he’d act on. The start of Vader’s coup to seize power.

It was madness, really. The remainder of Death Squadron hours away by Hyperspace and even with the massive fire power of the Super Star Destroyer under his command they stood no chance to last for long against Home Fleets superior power.

Piett’s unlocked his legs as his brain caught up. He made his way down the walkway between the bridge pits, well aware that he wouldn’t be the only one that had received this message. A great many of the Executors and Death Squadron’s personnel were selected by Lord Vader himself and even though Piett couldn’t know it for sure, he was certain that some of the more senior officers were recruited after they had agreed to back Vader in his eventual endeavor to take over the throne. With shaky hands, Piett entered his code into the terminal. The blast doors to the bridge closed and sealed.

He could feel how every face on the bridge turned to him.

Piett took a deep breath. No, the timing really wasn’t ideal, but they had to trust in Vader. Vader often knew things that no one else did and when he deemed this to be the right moment, then Piett shouldn’t hesitate either. Their chance lay in a swift strike, taking the defense fleet by surprise and wreaking havoc among the vessels until they were ready to fight back. Even that would have an unknown outcome, but it might be enough to hold out until reinforcements would arrive. He pulled up another piece of information, that Vader had introduced him to a long time ago. However the Dark Lord had managed it, through threats or through coercion and promises, but one of the captains of Home Fleet had sworn his cause their allegiance. Piett could only hope that this information was still correct, but in their situation, they couldn’t choose their allies.

Piett straightened his back and put his hands behind his back as he turned to face the assembled men.

“Very well, gentlemen. This is our call to action,” he said, hoping that his voice sounded as firm and assured as usual.“Captain Venka, alert all commands. Shields up. Target Admiral Screed’s ship with the ion cannons, maximum firepower. Communications, prepare our frequency jammer to go on my order. And get me a connection to the Indomitable commanded by Captain Averen.”

Captain Venka remained silent for long moments, his look conveying the same doubts and feelings Piett had that they were about to embark on a crazy suicide mission on behalf of Vader, who wasn’t even present to face the consequences alongside him. Piett involuntarily held his breath, hoping Venka would not voice any of these misgivings aloud. Finally, Captain Venka snapped out of the stunned silence himself and relayed the orders to the respective work stations, where crew-men and officers sprang into action.

Venka made his way over to Piett. He leaned in. “What about the sectoral fleets?” he said, his voice low enough so only Piett could hear it. “We might be able to jam their initial communication, but we won’t be able to prevent the planetary comms center from calling back-up and depending on how fast they are alerted theirs might well arrive here faster than ours.”

“Our jammer will prevent them from communicating directly with the surface,” Piett replied to his captain. “General Veers is on the planet. We will have to trust in his ground team to do their job, then we only have to take care of the fleet.”

The captain raised his eyebrows, but he still looked doubtful. “This is a foolhardy undertaking, if we could tell Vader to wait at least with the initial attack until the remainder of the fleet is here-“

“Lord Vader would not give the order lightly,” Piett replied with conviction. “He must have a very good reason to choose to give it now. This is the right moment.”

At least I hope Vader has planned this out, Piett thought and that this unexpected order wasn’t a sign on how much things had gone south down on the planet below them.

Over the buzz of activity, a voice sounded from the crew pit to the right. “Weapons and jammer are primed, Sir. We are ready to go at your order.”

For a moment, Piett indulged himself in the scenario that he had never agreed to this, never conspired with the Dark Lord, never would draw first blood against Home Fleet. But then he received confirmation that Death Squadron had received their order to proceed to the Corsucant system immediately and Captain Averen’s image lit up on the small holo receiver next to his battle station, his face as determined as Piett’s. He ordered Captain Averen to target the bridge of Admiral Screed’s Imperium from the Indomitable’s favorable position just portside of Home Fleet’s flagship.

It only took a few minutes until Averen confirmed the order, without raising any questions or objections. Piett gave the order for the ion cannons to release their barrage on the Imperium, rendering the Star Destroyers shields useless. Only moments later the green light of their heavy turbolasers was pounding the starboard side of the Admiral’s bridge joined by the Indomitable’s gunners, hammering the portside part of the ships bridge tower.

Piett tried to imagine the startled terror onboard and on the other vessels of Home fleet that were not in on the coup. Within moments the bridge of the Imperium was shot to slag. The head of the snake, as far as Home Fleet was concerned, was severed. But Piett was not a fool, the rest of the vessels of the fleet would quickly rally and prepare to defend themselves. A difficult battle with uncertain outcome was ahead of them.

Piett nodded grimly.

“Broadcast a general order to surrender and a cessation of all hostilities.”

+++

“This son of a Hutt,” General Veers muttered under his breath, quietly enough so none of his men around him could hear it, as he fixed the last clasp on his hastily put on armored vest.

Vader’s message had reached him on the way back from a lengthy meeting in the Imperial Military Headquarter. Only Vader would send such an order in such a fashion and at such a time and expect it to be obey nevertheless. Veers had gathered any men he could muster at such short notice. There weren’t many. With longing and worry he thought of the thousands of troops stuck on the Executor.

“We split up here,” Veers ordered. “One task force will focus on capturing the communications center, the rest is with me.” Veers tried not to calculate the odds he had to capture the throne room like Vader had ordered him with even less men, but without preventing the comms center from ordering back up from Anaxes, where the vast First Sector fleet was stationed, their coup was short-lived anyway. “What is the status of the Executor?”

“There is no communication from them, but from the sensor reports we can confirm that they have engaged home fleet as per orders.”

“Good,” Veers said with grim satisfaction. So the admiral hadn’t chickened out in the deciding moment. His doubts had grown over the past months if Piett would refuse the order, should it come with the short admiral having become increasingly disillusioned with Lord Vader since the prince had been brought on board. But it seemed that these doubts were unfounded.

“What a son of a Hutt,” Veers muttered again under his breath, as he cocked his blaster. He pressed on with his men, all blasters ready. They met little resistance as they entered the palace through the gate that Vader had indicated.

+++

Raymus Antilles was getting anxious, there was no denying it. It had been over an hour since Bail Organa had left the party. He knew the Viceroy had been unsettled when his son had appeared on Coruscant. Having children himself, he could easily understand that the prince was the greatest treasure for his parents and it was despicable that the Emperor had chosen to apply his cruelty on this weak spot.

The whole evening, had watched how the prince next to his captor, seeing how Vader had reined the boy in, when he had strayed too far from his heel and form the corner of his eyes he had seen Bail Organa do the same.Yet while it pained him to see the good natured and happy boy subdued like this, it was his duty to advise the Senator not to give in to the Emperor’s demands and to keep Alderaan’s and the galaxy’s best interest in focus.

In retrospect, Bail had managed to remain remarkably calm over the day and evening or he had just been remarkably good at hiding his true feelings and thoughts. If only he had managed to talk the senator out of the crazy endeavor to demand his son returned from the emperor himself.

Restlessly, Raymus Antilles glanced again on his chrono for the umpteenth time. He turned to the others of their delegation in whose faces he could see his own tension and worry reflected.

“I will go look for the Viceroy,” he said quietly, but determinately. He turned to leave, but in that moment the main doors to the vast ballroom opened and several stormtroopers entered. Antilles groaned, was there no end to this martial show of force. The music stopped and he became aware that the troopers had their guns raised. More followed in. This wasn’t good. He turned to the side entrance and saw that several guests had already discovered that the side entrance was locked, their attempts to push open the door futile.

Trapped.

An officer strode in behind the troopers, wearing the customary battle armor and a tight, humorless smile on his face. “There has been a situation in the palace,” he announced. “For your safety, you are required to remain here for the time being.”

A buzz of hushes tones, worried and some outraged swelled up around them. But not everyone was willing to stay quietly, it seemed. Someone in pompous gold and red embroidered garments pushed his way through the crowd. He planted himself in front of the officer, threateningly, not minding the blaster rifles raised at him by the troopers

“This is preposterous! Who gave you your orders?” he demanded.

“Lord Vader has ordered these security measures to protect-“

“I’m not having it. I am the Archduke of Hadiss. I only take orders of the Emperor himself. I will leave now.”

“Sir, I must ask you to stand down, or we will be forced to-“

“Get out of my way,” the man thundered, shoving against the man’s shoulder to get past.

A shot rang out and the man sagged to the floor, dead. There was a smoking hole in the back of his tunic where he had been hit. Utter silence fell in the vast room.

Antilles exchanged a worried glance with another aide from the Alderaanian delegation. The man gave him a small nod. Antilles retreated through the crowd further to the back of the room, hoping that no one would notice him. He went for his pocket to pull out his comlink and started keying in Bail Organa’s frequency. He needed to warn the senator of this dangerous situation. Maybe the senator would still make it out the palace before the whole building was locked down by what was happening. Whatever it was, Antilles was certain that it didn’t bode well for any of them.

Antilles turned his back on the officer, fielding curtly some courtiers trying to ask questions or to weasel themselves out of the situation likely through rampant bribery, and raised the comlink to his mouth.

Only to find himself facing the muzzle of a blaster rifle, pointed at him by a stormtrooper.

“Sir, you must surrender your comlink.” The trooper’s voice filtered slightly muffled through the helmet. “For your safety,” he added as an afterthought without elaborating how this was supposed to improve security to anyone about to be locked in the ball room.

With gritted teeth, Captain Antilles dropped his comlink in the trooper’s outstretched hand.

+++

Again, Bail stood in front of the throne room. Earlier he had been denied access and was sent away in no uncertain terms, the guards informing him that the Emperor would not see him. Bail had paced the corridors, uncertain what he should do. He just knew Luke was in there. Together with the Emperor and Vader. They would tear his precious child apart, he needed to help Luke.

New resolve gathered, Bail was ready to make another attempt. He stared at the huge double doors firmly locked.But something was different. The pair of crimson clad Imperial guards, securing the entrance, had vanished. But why? Had the Emperor left? Bail approached the double doors. He stretched out his hand, to push open the door.

“You, hands up!” the metallic distorted voice of a Stormtrooper ordered. Bail whipped around to find a whole squadron approaching, blasters raised at him. He slowly raised his hands even while his brain was working furiously on a possible excuse as to what he was doing here.

They approached, pushing him back from the doors with the muzzles of their blasters, all courtesy and pretense obviously exhausted.

“What is the status?” A general in battle armor demanded.

“The room is sealed after the alarm was sounded,” a trooper answered.

“Place charges, get me those doors open.”

“Sir, we have detained another guest.” Bail was pushed forward with a rough shove of armored hands. “Shall we put him with the others?”

The flint-eyed general’s attention focused momentarily on Bail. “You’re Organa,” he stated with a frown.

Before Bail could answer a loud bang sounded and smoke and dust filled the air. When the smoke had cleared, Bail caught a glimpse of the throne room beyond the massive doors, hanging precariously in the hinges.

“Please, my son is in there,” Bail pleaded, hearing the desperation in his voice.

The general measured him up. “Hold him here. The rest of you move in!” he snapped, already turning toward the blasted-out doors. Bail watched him and the troopers file in, waiting with bated breath. But instead of the sound of an erupting fight, everything remained silent. Deadly silent.

+++ 

“Sir, we have another Star Destroyer closing in at zero angle!”

Piett acknowledged the officer with a tight nod, but there was little he could do to protect their vulnerable stern. The Executor was already stuck in a dangerous prong that took away much of their possibility to maneuver. After the Imperium, they had managed to destroy another Destroyer and cripple another one enough to force the vessel to retreat form the ensuing battle. But the remainder of Home Fleet had rallied very quickly and even with the jammer still preventing any form of communication, they had rapidly managed to bring the Executor and the Indomitable into a tight spot.

The admiral pulled up the scopes to see for himself. Sure enough, one of Home Fleet’s Star Destroyers was almost in firing range behind stern. Close to their reactors and out of range from most of their gun turrets, this was not an unexpected move. But even seeing it coming, he couldn’t do much to prevent the ultimately inevitable. From both flanks were too many capital ships of Home Fleet were closing in to concentrate their fire power on a single one of them and to keep the vessels at bay.

On the scopes Piett could see the already heavily limping Indomitable coming to aide, taking up position behind the Executor, ready to defend the Super Star Destroyer and to take the brunt of the attack, taking severe damage. It would only lead to the vessel’s inevitable destruction.

A heavy shot hit the starboard side of the Executor, overpowering their shield before the energy could be rerouted. The resulting explosion was forceful enough to shake the entire behemoth. Piett held on to his terminal to remain on his feet.

“Damage report!” Piett snapped.

“Starboard shield at fourteen percent, Sir. Hangars Three and Four report hull breaches that cannot be contained, but the decks below that seem largely intact for now. The affected area was sealed off.”

Intact for now. Piett knew as well as everyone else on the bridge that the next hit of this magnitude would hit the vessel a lot harder, maybe even fatally damaging the super structure enough to lead to a catastrophic failure.

Piett checked the scopes of the battle. Their complement of TIEs was struggling, already severely depleted, against the onslaught of enemy snubs and soon enough they wouldn’t the enough anymore to keep bombing runs away. Without the protection of their which will finally strip the entire vessel of its shields making them a sitting mynock, waiting to be finished off.

Yet they had no option to strike their arms, death was the only thing that would await them, one way or another and Piett very much prefer to go down fighting on board his own command than in a dark cell somewhere under the palace or made an example of in an execution.

Maybe it was time to prepare the coded message to Lord Vader to warn him that the Executor will be lost alongside their only ally before reinforcements could arrive.

+++

Chapter Text

+++

It was a moment of silent contemplation. The eerie quiet of the throne room after the heat of the fight was only cut by Vader’s own steady breathing. His Master was dead, slain by his unlikely savior, the little blonde prince that he had dragged into his life, only to have it turned upside down. Palpatine’s body lay in the shadows of the walls where Vader had hurled him. Every so often Vader’s eyes were drawn to the haphazard pile of black robes. He was finally free of the last Master he had sworn to himself he’d ever tolerate.

Vader knelt next to his son, Luke’s head rested in his lap, the blonde mop of hair spilling onto his black overtunic and cloak. Vader brushed a gloved hand through the tussled strands. His son’s breathing was steadier, but still too shallow, likely the pain of bruises or even damaged ribs were constricting his lungs. Without proper medical attention, there was no telling how much damage his Master’s cruel powers had wreaked.

Since the foundation of the Empire there had been many attempts on Palpatine’s life, and some attempts of war lords and regional governors to seize power. Vader himself had thrown back failed attempts several times, some with little hope of success, the works of desperate fools or misguided idealists. And others much better equipped, planned and executed. Ultimately none had achieved the most crucial part, to defeat and kill the emperor.

In all those years in which Vader had defended his master against such outside threats he had devised a plan of his own, learning from the flawed attempts of others who had all paid the highest price for their treason, not few of which had fallen to Vader’s own hands. Outside he could feel the Force shift and move, as fights broke out between his men and the loyalists. He could feel the panicked uproar of the mass of lifeforms detained in the ballroom. Faintly, he could feel the death above of the space battle raging over the planet.

It should have been his hour of triumph, the one he had prepared for years and years. The hour to finally change his fate and that of the galaxy. Pulled forward by his son’s unexpected move and sacrifice. But now at the peak of it, it mattered no more.

Now he merely longed it to be over, just so that Luke could finally receive medical attention that he needed. Through the Force Vader could feel Luke’s strength fading. There was no telling how much longer his last reserves would last.

Their plan had not been ready, the boy nowhere close to take on his Master in a proper duel, but as it had turned out his son hadn’t needed his instructions to accomplish this feat. Nor had he needed his father’s help. The Force had been with him.

A loud bang from somewhere outside made the boy twitch. He stirred, subconsciously trying to move away from the danger he could indubitably sense through the Force even in his unconscious state.

“Calm down, little one,” Vader soothed. He ran a hand through the boy’s hair. “Trust me and rest.”

Luke stilled, the deep frown edged into his youthful face smoothed with every gentle brush of Vader’s palm over his face. His fear, that just a moment ago had rippled through the Force like a tidal wave, ebbed down.

The Force whispered a warning and Vader shifted to shield his son. A deafening bang sounded. The explosion shook the floor and made the transparisteel windows clink in their settings, but they withstood the blast wave, as the huge double doors were blown up. Dust and small debris rained down.

Another surge of fear flared from Luke and he tried to shift away from the source of the explosion, a movement that caused fresh pain to seep into his son’s presence, clouding it. Before his son could push himself up, Vader reached out to his mind.

Stay calm, young one. Help is coming.

Luke slumped once more.

Through the blasted-out doors a squadron of Troopers entered securing the perimeter. General Veers entered, heading towards them with quick steps.The general straightened up and placed his hands behind his back to give his report. “My Lord, the ground troops are holding their own as of now, but there is no word from space battle. Scans indicate that no reinforcements have arrived yet. We are awaiting your orders.”

“Very well, General,” Vader rumbled. “Hold position for now until reinforcements have arrived and additional troops have landed. Have a medical team report here.”

“Yes, my Lord,” the General confirmed and he relayed the order. His eyes darted to the prone figure at Vader’s feet. He recognized the boy of course.

“Sir, Senator Or-“

But the general’s warning was too late. The senator had already pushed his way through the troopers that were fanning out to secure the perimeter and search for survivors. Clearly Organa was misunderstanding the amount of undeserved curtesy that was being extended to him.

“What have you done to my son?”

Vader growled. Of course, that man wouldn’t waste a second to make a nuisance of himself. Vader’s hand itched for his lightsaber to give the man what was due. Now would be the moment to deal with the senator once and for all before he had the opportunity continue to dig his claws into his son and to poison his mind with his lies.

But then Vader’s eyes fell on Luke. The boy wouldn’t forgive him if anything happened to his adoptive father and it would be impossible to fool the boy over the true nature of Organ’s demise.

+++

Bail stepped through the destroyed doors, horrified by the scale of devastation he found behind. The smell of charred flesh met his nose instantly and threatened to turn his stomach upside down. The throne room was a leftover warzone, scorch marks marred the marble floor and the walls and the floor was littered with bodies Most of them were clad in the ruby-red armor of the royal guard and there were many of them.

Bail scanned the room with his heart pounding in his chest as if it was trying to escape his ribcage. He had come here to find his son and now he desperately hoped that he would not be in this place of death and destruction.

At first, he could not spot Luke among the bodies, through which the Stormtroopers were now searching for survivors, but Bail wasn’t sure if that was to help them or rather to kill them for good. Finally Bail’s eyes fell on the small heap of dark garments at the very far side of the room, confirming his worst fears.

Luke, please, no.

Bail hurried forward, up the steps and past the vacated throne, he needed to see for himself, hoping beyond hope that Luke’s heart was still beating, that he would find his son still alive. He dropped to his knees next to the boy, his fingers reaching for his son’s cheek, finding it cold and his worst fear confirmed.

“Y-you killed him-” he whispered, looking up to the towering form of the Dark Lord, who didn’t even bother to step away from his victim. How he wished he had a weapon to kill the man.

“He is not dead,” Vader denied dismissively. He turned to the general instead who had followed Bail and was watching their exchange from a few steps away, probably instinctively trying to keep himself out of the line of fire. “Where is the medic?”

“Should be here any moment, my Lord-”

Bail didn’t listen anymore. With shaking fingers, he brushed over his son’s neck, searching for a pulse. Luke was pale as death, but with breathless relief, Bail could find the weak but steady flutter of a pulse against his fingers.  

Bail pulled the boy in his arms, hugging him tight against his chest. “Luke?” he called.

Luke didn’t wake, but he stirred ever so slightly, the stiffness of his body telling of the pain he was in. Bail held Luke close to his chest. He threw a look around in search of a way to sneak Luke out of this place and to safety. There was a lot of commotion as Vader’s men were clearing some space around the throne, on which Vader had placed himself squarely, keying in codes into the terminals set into the armrests.

Even without Vader shamelessly taking the throne for himself, Bail could imagine what was happening. Some distance away at the foot of the steps, close to the walls, the black heap of wide clothes and a cowl, its shape very much betraying the limp body hidden underneath. Bail couldn’t care less about the Emperor’s demise. But he just didn’t want to imagine how Vader had used and abused Luke to achieve this, barely leaving Luke.

Bail put one hand under Luke’s knees and the other behind his shoulders, ready to lift his son up. With a snap-hiss the crimson red of a lightsaber illuminated Luke’s pale skin. Bail needn’t turn around to know who was standing behind them. It seemed that Vader hadn’t been as preoccupied by his bid for the ultimate power in the galaxy as Bail had hoped.

“Put him down,” Vader growled threateningly. “Or I will reevaluate your right to remain alive right now.”

Bail gritted his teeth. Cautiously he set Luke back down on the blank tiles. He raised his head, ignoring the tip of the lightsaber still much too close to his throat for comfort and looked straight into Vader’s mask.

“My Lord?” someone called, sounding breathless as if he had run half the palace. The newcomer was wearing a uniform and battle armor like the rest, but the red patch marked him as a field medic.

“Tend to the boy,” Vader ordered the man, without taking the tip of the lightsaber even an inch further away from Bail’s throat. “Get away from him, Organa,” he growled coldly.

“You cannot keep me from my son-“ Bail said, but he took a half step back.

“I most certainly can.”

Vader finally switched off the lightsaber. He gestured sharply and two stormtroopers stepped closer, ready to enforce their Lord’s order. Bail took another step back. He needed to stay, for Luke’s sake. How else was he supposed to protect his son and make sure he wouldn’t be maltreated any further?

Bail watched as the medic check Luke’s airways and breathing. He stripped Luke off the thick wool scarf still draped around his small shoulders and the metal vambraces covering his forearms, exposing the boy’s pale skin underneath, littered with bruises. With a pair of laser scissors he cut unceremoniously through the fabric of the dark tunic revealing more skin, marred with even more purpling bruises and darkened burns. The medic ripped open the sealed med kit. It took him several attempts to find a suitable artery to get a proper IV access. He hooked up the bag filled with clear fluids and pressed it into the hands of the hastily requisitioned stromtrooper to hold the bag aloft above Luke.The medic injected the content of the pre-prepared hypospray into the tube of the drip.

Every gentle touch and jostle was enough to edge deep furrows in Luke’s forehead, bearing witness of the pain he must be in. He stirred weakly and his eyes fluttered open, searching but failing to focus on any of them. Still, he didn’t fully wake and after the clear liquid had been introduced and the pain killer was working its way through his system, the strained grimace slowly smoothed out and Luke fell silent again. He seemed to breathe a little easier.

“Report,” Vader’s familiar baritone rumble demanded from behind them after the medic had finished to scan and examine his patient. The medic straightened up.

“The patient is stable for now and ready to be transported straightaw-”

Vader didn’t even bother to hear the man out. “He will remain here. Keep him stabilized until further notice,” Vader ordered, causing anger to flash through Bail. Clearly Vader had no inclination to help Luke, only to ultimately prolong his suffering. The medic seemed to share Bail’s opinion.

“My Lord, he needs intensive care as soon as possible, surgery and ideally an extensive bacta sub and-” he argued.

“Is he in critical condition?”

“No, my Lord, but he has suffered from extensive electrocution and if left untreated he might not survive.”

“Then he will remain here until I say otherwise. Continue to monitor him. Inform me in case his condition worsens.” Vader cut the medic’s argument short.

The man blanched at the impatient tones of the apparent successor of the Emperor. He looked visibly uncomfortable, but he moved to comply with a curt bow, not daring to challenge Vader again. He leaned back over his charge and busying himself with adjusting the small monitoring device strapped on Luke’s chest and the IV line.

Vader made his way back to the throne again, that he had now fully turned into his command center. Holomaps projected what had to be a blueprint of the Imperial palace, marked with red and blue dots probably indicating some actual or presumed resistance that Vader’s men were encountering on their way through the vast building.

Bail couldn’t care less about Vader’s apparent bid to seize the power in this galaxy. It was something to worry about on another day. Now all was counted was that Luke survived and Bail would not back down this easily and if Vader thought that he’d stand by quietly while Luke was slowly dying in a dark corner of this cursed place, he would be in for a rough surprise.

Bail marched straight at Vader. “Luke is a civilian. It is his right to be removed from the battle and receive adequate medical attention-“

Vader snapped around, his finger stabbing at Bail. “He is anything but a civilian. And if you value his life you will stop interfering.”

Bail shook with anger. Yes, a blaster was what he needed right now.

+++

Admiral Piett clutched the terminal showing him the battle scopes tighter than necessary. The Indomitable’s engine had just sustained a critical hit, rendering the vessel crippled and unable to steer. They would no longer be able to shield the Executor’s engines and it would be just a matter of short work for Home Fleet to disable them too. Turned into sitting mynocks, awaiting the killing blow, or worse.

“Sir, this may be our last option to jump to Hyperspace,” Captain Venka said quietly.

The captain was right of course. It would take navigation precious minutes to plot a course away form the core system, to a safer harbor. But their departure from the system would disable the jammer without which Home Fleet could notify not just reinforcements, but all of the navy too. There would be no safe harbor for them left by the time they reversed to real space, no matter how far they made it from Coruscant.

No, for better of for worse, they were committed to hold out. Until Death Squadron arrived or they were destroyed.

“No, we must-“

“Sir, incoming,” a ComScan officer called from the left bridge pit. Piett and Venka looked up from the terminal. With a flicker of pseudomotion a Star Destroyer dropped into the system, merely a few hundred klicks away from them. “Sir, it’s the Devastator. There’s another, no, make that two-”

Death Squadron had arrived, truly in the very nick of time. With just a moment’s delay the Devastator’s forward and side turrets started spitting out deadly red laser shots. The relief and elation Piett felt in this moment was reflected in Venka’s face.

“Evasive action,” Piett snapped of the chief navigation officer. They needed to move aside, to give the fresh arrivals the best possible shot at Home Fleet. Death Squadron moved into the gap, driving a wedge into the now outnumbered and outgunned Home Fleet and taking them into a prong. Lacking a good leadership in the absence of their command ship and under the pressure of the atttack, Home Fleet lost any distinguishable pattern.

“Broadcast another general order to surrender,” Piett ordered.

He could see new hope in the men around him. But he knew that this hope would be a very short-lived one. It was only a matter of time until the defending fleet managed to rally their back-up. Piett knew full well the vast fleet that lurked in the Anaxes system, ready to be called upon to crush any dissidence. Not even with the Executor intact would Death Squadron hold against that fleet for long.

+++

The Palace Traffic and Security Center was deep in the bowels of the Imperial Palace. Dimmed light made sure that the attention of the men of the night shift stayed concentrated on the many work terminals and screens flashing in front of them. From here all traffic around the Palace area was monitored, landing permits given and patrols coordinated. Even more importantly, all traffic coming into the system be it from real space or through one of the Hyperspace routes that had their exit and origin in the Coruscant system, was monitored and advised on their routes.

When he had been offered the position of Deputy head of the Comms Center, Lieutenant Thom Grent hadn’t hesitated for long. It might not be the most glorious position and certainly not one where anyone could win a medal, not even with the most exemplary conduct, but it was one within the palace. Back then, Grent had fancied himself rising to higher, more visible positions, getting him to work closely with the Empire’s upper echelon, and from there to undreamt-of tasks and honors.

Now however, four years later, he found his bright-eyed aspirations faded and himself very much stuck in this mind-numbing job, working day in, day out in long shifts often stretching far into the night to cover up for his lazy superior and unlikely to be ever promoted.

Tonight was little difference. His superior had excused himself hours before the end of his scheduled shift with the air of the buzz of excitement around himself that stemmed from his successful bribe to an acquaintance that was supposed to secure him entrance to tonight’s party that was surely still going strong many, many levels above from the basement where the Comms Center was located.

The only thing breaking this night’s routine was what appeared to be a small skirmish in the planet’s orbit, that showed on their sensors. It was hard to tell what really as going on since all military grade sensors seemed to have been once again blocked, something Home Fleet’s command did frequently to keep others from getting a good read of potentially classified operations and as such was nothing out of the ordinary. In fact, that they had blocked all scanners and hadn’t sent any communication was a sign that Home Fleet had quickly engaged the perpetrator. Likely they were just some spiced up pirates cocky to pick a fight they could not win, and this in fact was just a small incident and nothing more.

One of his men checked the sensors again. “No change, Sir. Sensors indicate there are still ongoing hostilities.”

Grent checked his chrono with a frown. For a small skirmish this sure was taking a long time.”

“Is there any communication from the Defense Fleet?”

“No, they haven’t informed us at all.”

“Shall we inform the First Sector Fleet to send reinforcements?”

“No, we won’t call upon them for a minor incident that our fleet can handle on their own.”

Grent certainly wouldn’t risk his career by reacting twitchy. If there was no urgent communique from the fleet in orbit the situation hardly warranted his intervention. In the end, it would be him on the line, having to answer for mobilizing the Sector Fleet on the grounds of read-outs from some old scanners. At best his superiors would think him unable to handle anything on his own, at worst he’d spend the rest of his miserable existence in some Outer Rim asteroid relay station.

“Sir, we are detecting an unauthorized vessel entering from the Perlemian Trade route!”

Grent grated his teeth, of course his double shift wouldn’t be a quiet one. “Identify and hail them. Tell them to get the kriff out of my system.”

“Right away, sir.” The man turned back to his terminal to identify the new arrival. “There is another vessel, no make that two… three- there’s more coming.”

“What? Are they attacking?”

“No, they appear to be our own, all have imperial identifiers, military grade,” the reply came. “Sir, it’s… it’s Death Squadron.”

“Are they scheduled?” Grent demanded. Surely he hadn’t missed something as big as the arrival of the remainder of Death Squadron in today’s traffic manifests.

“No, Sir, they’re not scheduled. We can’t hail them either. It seems that all extra planetary communication is being suppressed.”

“Contact the palace at once.”

A few short moments of tense silence followed.“We cannot make a connection, Sir. I’ve tried every channel.”

Grent’s mind was spinning. “They must have taken out the internal communication line too.”

“What should we do, sir?”

“What is Home Fleet’s reaction?”

“They seem to retreat.”

“What about Admiral Screed? Anyone?”

We cannot raise the Imperium or any of the other vessels up there. He’s not answering his com-“

Grent whipped around. There was no other explanation left anymore. This was a full-blown attempt to take the capital.

“Activate the secure back-up frequencies, we need to override the jammers and inform Anaxes to mobilize the fleet, quickl-“

“Sir, there is an urgent communication for you!”

“Forward it to me, and check which frequency they are using.”

“Sir,- it’s…” the man looked pale. “It’s coming on a priority frequency.”

“Which one, spit it out!”

“It’s coming from on the Emperor’s frequency. He’s ordering us to cease and desist-“

+++

Chapter Text

+++

Hours must have passed. Hours of anxious waiting and pacing for Bail Organa, while around him Darth Vader was consolidating his power, directing his ground forces to snuff out the pockets of resistance rallied from the Imperial Military Headquarter and sending orders to his fleet in orbit and across the galaxy. Hours in which Luke’s unchanged condition was being monitored and tended to by the stoic field medic and each demand from Bail to remove Luke to a medbay was ignored. From time to time the medic quietly conversed with Vader, always out of earshot from Bail. The Stormtrooper still stood immovable above Luke, squeezing the bag with fluids to push them into Luke’s system a little faster.

Finally reinforcements and a medical capsule had arrived and Vader had changed his mind. Luke was placed cautiously inside the capsule, hooked up to sensors and medical machinery to ease his breathing and wrapped in thermal blankets. Throughout all the hours, Luke hadn’t stirred again, quieted by pain killers and sedatives, blissfully oblivious of the ruckus around him. Bail was dismayed but barely surprised to learn that Luke was to be transported to a military facility for treatment. At this point, he’d take anything if only it meant that Luke finally received the medical attention he so urgently needed, even if it were to be Palpatine’s own room.

Vader stuck close to the capsule as it was pushed through the darkened and deserted corridors of the palace, occasionally marred with scorch marks, evidence of the fighting that had broken out. Bail didn’t let himself be deterred by it. He would not let his son out of his sight for even a minute and if it was the last thing that he’d do.

He was surprised when their journey led them to the large courtyard in front of the palace now occupied with the massive shape of a Star Destroyer, looking even more ridiculously oversized wedged in between the high-rises around, some of which appeared to be damaged by the forceful descend of the enormous vessel. Bail imagined the ten-meter-high marble statue of Palpatine, erected to commemorate Palpatine’s rise to power, that had previous stood in the middle of this square had been plain flattened by the bulk crushing down on it.

From boarding ramps, legions of stormtroopers seeped from the destroyer. The capsule with Luke pushed up one ramp, cleared for their little procession, and into the vessel. Bail stoically followed it through the sterile, grey corridors of the warship. If they wouldn’t keep him from his son by force, he wouldn’t leave no matter where they were heading.

To Bail’s relief, their journey ended in the medical bay. Now he was in the observation room, his ability to help his son reduced to pacing the length of the large transparisteel windows that gave him a good view on the measured frenzy of the medics on the other side where Luke was undergoing treatment.

Luke looked incredibly small and frail on the large operation table, surrounded by medics and medical droids and hooked up to drips and sensors. Every inch of the exposed skin on his chest and arms was etched with darkening bruises and marks, bearing witness to the torment he must have had to endure in the past few hours since Bail had last seen him. A breathing mask covered most of his face, and Bail struggled to remember the smile on it when they had seen each other at the party and earlier in the senate. It seemed like a lifetime ago, no just mere hours.

The observation room was dead silent except for his footsteps, no sound of the commotion next door was coming through the transparisteel viewpane. It made Bail feel almost as removed and far away from Luke as he had in the past months when Luke had been half across the galaxy.

The door hissed open, breaking the silence harshly. Vader strode in, a medic following at his heels, hastily finishing up a report.

“…once the preparations are complete, he will be immersed in bacta to promote his healing,” the medic finished his report.

“Very well, proceed.”

The door closed behind the medic. Vader ignored Bail, turning to the viewport where Luke was still being treated. The room felt downright claustrophobic just by the presence of the Dark Lord. But Bail wouldn’t let himself be intimidated by Vader. Vader would answer for what he had done to Luke and if it was just for Bail to learn the truth. He squared his shoulders.

“What have you done to my son?” Bail demanded.

That got Vader’s attention. He rounded on Bail.

“He is not your son, Organa,” Vader growled, heavy contempt in his voice. He stabbed his finger at him threateningly. “I know of your deception how you stole him from me.”

Bail felt the color drain from his face. “Y-you know?” How and when could have Vader found out about the true nature of his relationship with Luke? Bail was aghast. “How could you do this to him?”

“I have done nothing to him.”

“Then how is he in this shape, he was fine earlier on. I saw him myself.”

“It was not my doing, but Palpatine’s.”

“What difference does it make if you torment your son yourself or if you stand by and watch while he is tortured by your master?” Bail spat.

Vader advanced on Bail with almost inhuman speed, his hand flying out to grab Bail’s collar. “You do not get to lecture me,” Vader snarled, his mask way too close to Bail’s face. “You are a kidnapper and a criminal. You have kept my son from me, from his heritage and his birth right. I will see your crimes exposed and you, your family and anyone who aided you in your deeds will face ample punishment for them.”

“I kidnapped him? I tried to keep him safe from you and Palpatine. You were the one who forcibly took him from his home and-”

Vader shoved Bail away. His hand twitched suspiciously to his belt, where the lightsaber hilt dangled. The very air around them seemed to be sizzling with energy. The transparisteel viewpane split with a loud cracking noise across its full length and made the medics on the other side jump in fright.

“Don’t you dare,” Vader hissed, his hands balled to tight fists. “He was taken because of your insistence to back whatever fledging rebellion you fantasize about with Mothma and the likes. Your fault he had to endure this.”

“And what if you’d known of your son? You would have handed the boy over to your Master in a heartbeat. Palpatine would have destroyed him. Youwould have destroyed him”

“I would never hurt him. You however are an entirely different matter.”

“You certainly hurt him before. You tortured him, solely to make me watch.”

“Palpatine ordered it in response to your inability to keep the child that you robbed safe,” Vader seethed. “I offered Luke to avoid it, but he insisted on going through with it.”

“Do you expect me to believe that?”

“You raised him, so you should know!”

Bail’s angry retort stuck in his throat.The moment seemed to drag, his right arm made an aborted motion, then he huffed, the ghost of a smile around his lips. “He… does have his own head. Like someone else I used to know-” He broke off.

In many sleepless nights, he had pondered and tried to understand what had happened in the short span of time that Palpatine had needed to set his long-laid plans into motion and install himself as his Emperor. And how he had managed to convert Anakin Skywalker, that bright eyed young Jedi Knight who Bail had met on many occasions, to turn on the order that had raised him since childhood and on his own wife. Often enough, Bail had worried the same for Luke, who wasn’t just the spitting image of his father, but shared his enthusiasm and thirst for action to a frightening degree.

“What happened to you that you refused the identity of Anakin Skywalker,“ he asked.

“Do not utter that name again. It no longer has any meaning to me.”

“Then how can you claim Luke as your son?”

“Luke was born to me. All I did was for her, for the child.”

“Of course,” Bail huffed disparagingly. “Just as this is all for Luke. You have used him to gain what to seize power.”

“I have not seized it for myself. It is Luke's prerogative to assume the throne.”

“What?” Bail’s train of thought derailed in a heartbeat. He was certain that he had misheard. The idea of Vader to altruistically share his power and influence, now that he had managed to place himself in this top position was ludicrous.

“Luke will be emperor,” Vader repeated with the sharp edge of impatience to his voice.

“And just how did you coerce Luke to agree to that?” Bail couldn’t imagine Luke, this young, bright-eyed boy who had struggled long enough to accept his role on Alderaan for a very long time, to willingly approve of such a scheme.

“He will come to accept it.”

“He- what?”For a second time, Bail choked on his angry reply. “He doesn't know? You didn’t think you should discuss this with him first?”

“It is unnecessary to discuss this with him prematurely. The news are being announced throughout the galaxy. I have corrected Luke’s foolish misconceptions you taught him about the galaxy. He will understand the necessity of my actions and accept the responsibility.”

“You can’t be serious-“

Vader’s finger was stabbing at him again.

“I do not need nor do I seek your counsel. I have tolerated your insolence so far, but if you do not keep silent, I will have you removed, permanently. The only reason you are still alive is because Luke wouldn’t be pleased about your death, but if you do not watch your tongue, I will reconsider if Luke’s unhappiness isn’t a price I am ready to pay to rid you from the galaxy.”

Bail opened his mouth for his just as angry retort, but the sound of the door swishing open stopped him short. A pale and timid looking medic stood in the door. “My Lord, Senator. I must ask you to… this is a medical ward and th… the E-emperor needs rest…”

“You have news,” Vader demanded harshly. Herounded on the man who defied possibility by blanching even further.

“Um… y-yes, my Lord,” the medic stumbled over his own words. “The… the emperor is stable for now. But he needs to be immersed in bacta for twelve hours at the very least, before it is advisable to wake him again.”

+++

Upon entering the medbay of the Avenger, General Veers found Lord Vader and the supposedly pacifist and meek Senator of Alderaan locked in the loudest shouting match that he had to date seen in such a peaceful environment.

At his entrance, Vader rounded sharply to him. Veers straightened up, trying his best to keep his distance to avoid being caught in the crossfire without taking an actual step back. “My Lord, your presence is required in the command center.”

“Very well. Ensure the Senator goes nowhere near the boy.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Vader's cold tones did however little to impress the senator. “You have no right to keep me from my son.”

“I have every right, Luke is mine,” Vader snapped. He rounded back to Veers. “You best remove this nuisance from my sight until I return or I refuse to take responsibility for his demise.”

With that, Vader strode from the room, cape billowing out behind him.

+++

“Senator?”

Bail warily faced the steely-eyed general. It was the same one that had practically arrested him outside the throne room. “What is it?” He said irritably. If they'd try to separate him from Luke then they'd be mistaken if the thought he'd go quietly.

“Thought you might want to fetch the rest of your people from the ballroom.”

Bail frowned. He glanced at his chrono. It was almost morning, already much later than that party should have gone. “What is happening, why are they still there?”

“Lord Vader’s orders. Everyone present in the Great Ballroom has been detained for the time being.”

Bail raised his eyebrows. Such ruthless tactics suited Vader alright, but even Bail had to admit that it made sense. Nearly everyone of rank and high position in the core and the wider galaxy had been present tonight. Despite Vader's insistence to share his power with his son, he seemed determined to rule the galaxy with an iron fist.

Bail cast another look at Luke. He was being lowered into the bacta tank, breathing mask sealed on his face and evidently heavily sedated. From what the medic had said, Luke would stay in the tank for many hours if not days. There was little he could do now here. Bail was reluctant to leave his son out of his eyes for even a minute of that time, but he also needed to use this chance to free the others. He would need these allies if he wanted to help Luke.

He nodded and followed the general through the maze of ever similar looking corridors of the Star Destroyer.

“That was some impressive shouting for an Alderaanian,” the General remarked offhandedly. “Can’t say I am surprised though.”

Bail couldn’t remember meeting the man before. He eyed him suspiciously. “Did we meet before?”

“No, but I met your son, Senator” the general grinned. “He isn’t overly sedate either.”

The Great Ballroom looked like a refugee camp with some of the most lavishly dressed refugees Bail had seen to date, waiting in huddled groups on the floor. The atmosphere couldn’t be more different than the party Bail had left hours ago. Music and chatter had been replaced with a stifling quiet, interrupted only by occasional hushed whisper.

Bail followed the general through the main entrance. Some unrest spread through the room at the opening of the main door, but no one dared to challenge the armed stormtroopers patrolling throughout the room.

A trooper with a colored pauldron came up to them.

“Anything to report?”

“Not much, Sir. Some more attempts to bribe their way out and one tried to sneak out dressed as their servant…”

Bail zoomed out of the trooper’s report. He scanned the room, searching for the delegation from Alderaan in all this chaos. It took him a while to spot them. He crossed the room as swiftly as he could, considering the many dignitaries, sitting in his way on the floor.

Raymus Antilles looked up at him with a mixture of surprise and worry and even in the dim lighting in this corner of the ballroom he could see how worn the captain looked.

“Senator.” Despite the situation he still managed to sound relieved. “I feared you…” he broke off. “What is happening?”

Bail threw a glance around. Several many pairs of eyes were on them and he was sure even more people were listening intently. Antilles seemed to understand as well. He swallowed whatever he had been about to say next.

“Come with me,” Bail said as quietlyas he could. He nodded at the others that were regarding him with wary eyes. “All of you, I’ll explain later,” he added.

Antilles looked at him even more worried than before and then at the general, flanked by two troopers that had followed them in, hovering just a few steps away. Bail tried a reassuring, confident smile, but he wasn’t sure how well he managed.

Antilles and the others got up and followed to the door. When they reached it there was commotion from the other side of the room. The portly governor was blazing his way through the room to the door, stumbling over arms or legs of those on the floor in his way and causing quite the stir and enraged shouts.

The guards at the door trained their blaster on him to stop him if necessary.

“Let me through. I am part of the Alderaanian delegation.” He tried to push on. “Senator, I am relievedto see you well.”

The general looked at Bail questioningly.

“I don’t think we will be needing your servicetonight, Governor.” Bail tuened his back on him.

Once they are outside the door is being locked again behind them, shutting out the governor’s spluttering protest. Bail turned to Antilles. The captain still eyed the general with great suspicion, as if he was expecting something bad to happen, but he let Bail steer him to a more private nook.

“I need you to call the Queen,” Bail said, pressing a datachip into the Captain’s hand. “She needs to come to Coruscant as soon as she possibly can arrange it.”

+++

Escorted through the eerily quiet, locked down city, patrolled by heavy vehicles and masses of soldiers, Raymus Antilles reached the Alderaanian embassy. Establishing communication with Alderaan proved to be difficult. The captain tried each and every one of their own secure lines. But he found all of them jammed and unusable. For better or worse he had to resort to the imperial encryption that Senator Organa had provided him with. There was no telling who might be listening in on this frequency, but he had no other choice but to use it and trust that the senator knew what he was doing.

“My Queen, I-“

“What is going on?” Breha Organa was looking anxious. There are no more news coming through from Coruscant and troops have deployed in Aldera locking down the spaceports and all major squares.”

“I… I spoke to the senator just now, he seems well, Ma’am. Coruscant has been locked down as well and-“

“What about Luke?”

Raymus Antilles hesitated briefly. “He attended the Emperor’s reception in the evening, accompanied by Lord Vader. The senator told me that he was injured, but he couldn’t tell me any details.”

Breha touched her heart, looking shaken.

Antilles took heart. The senator’s behavior had been unsettling and the captain felt more and more worried whether or not the senator would betray them if Luke’s life was held ransom. “My Queen, I don’t think it is wise for you to travel to-“

But in this moment the connection was lost, replacing the imagine of Queen Breha with white static. Antilles punched the control key to reestablish connections, but it failed again and again. Instead a new image lit up of a solemn looking anchor. On the bottom, a text looped announcing the strict curfew imposed and military law established throughout the Empire. The captain tried to switch to another frequency, but the image remained the same. He tried another one and another. But on every single frequency, even those who had been jammed before, the same transmission played.

The anchor lifted a datapad, focusing on the holocam in front of him.

I am filled with great sadness at my duty to announce the death of our beloved Emperor Palpatine who succumbed to a very brief but serious illness. In these troubled times, I urge all citizens of the Empire to remain calm and to stay at their homes and await further instructions of local law enforcements. A curfew has been imposed to maintain security and-

Raymus Antilles was floored and almost missed the next bit, when an image of Prince Luke replaced the Imperial cog behind the anchor.

In this moment of grief, we all need to rally behind our new Emperor Luke Organa of Alderaan who has ascended to the throne with immediate effect.

+++

Chapter Text

+++

Very slowly Luke woke from a deep, dreamless slumber. For a while he drifted between sleep and waking, wishing he’d just drift off again. He felt drop-dead tired, but there was a persistent static hum permeating the room around him that pulled him from his sleep. His body was aching dully. Luke blinked through heavy eyelids at the dimly lit ceiling, but no sense of familiarity would set in. With difficulty, Luke made to sit up. At once the dull ache in his body flared into a stabbing pain that ran down his spine. Luke lifted his head a little to search the immaculate white surroundings around him for any clue as to where he was. Even this small movement cost him all the strength he could muster. Exhausted he collapsed back to the bed, trying to piece together where he was.

He was in a darkened medical suite. The bed he was in was surrounded by quietly humming machines and medical equipment, from which cables snaked into his bed and under the plain white shirt he was wearing. Luke brushed over his chest, feeling electrodes stuck to his skin. Bandages around his left hand held the access for the drip next to him in place, a clear unknown liquid flowing drop by drop into him. He tried to remember how in the galaxy he had ended up here, wherever ‘here’ was, or what had put him in this state where every move ached, but he couldn’t remember.

Luke bit his teeth and took a deep breath. Despite the pain he managed to push himself up to a sitting position this time. He looked outside the viewscreen to his left. But instead of the star-spotted black of space that had greeted him every time he had looked out a viewport in the past months, an impressive and vast city scape, illuminated by uncounted lights, met his eyes.

Realization hit him with the force of a crashing Star Destroyer.

Coruscant! The emperor! That's where they had been headed. But where was his father? Luke tried to calm the bubbling fear clouding his mind to instead focus on the Force to find the familiar presence of his father. But he couldn't find it, in fact he couldn't even reach for the Force at all. Where it would usually linger in the back of his mind there was a gaping nothing as if something was blocking him from reaching for it.

That was odd. Not once since his first ever lesson with Vader, the revelation of their familial connection still fresh, had Luke lost his connection to the Force. And now it was simply gone.

In a frenzy, Luke patted him himself down, but of course the lightsaber he had hidden under his garments was gone too.

This could only mean one thing. Palpatine knew. He knew. Palpatine knew of his Force sensitivity, had done to him whatever it had taken to reduce him to this state. His father was in grave danger, if he was even still… no Luke didn’t let himself finish this thought. He needed to move, Vader couldn’t take on the emperor alone, he needed help.

This was all Luke’s fault. He needed to get away from here, he needed to find Vader and Bail before it was too late.

Luke wrenched at the drip, pulling it out. He pushed himself out of bed. He got entangled in the cables, but he yanked them off. His bare feet hit the cold floor. The machine behind him beeped ndignantl beep, setting into a slow but insistent alarm. Luke staggered forward, biting back cry at the sharp pain shooting down his spine at every step.

He had little time before his escape would inevitably be noticed. He grabbed the heavy glass jug placed on the bedside table, the only thing looking solid enough to do any damage with when wielded. He upended it, water splashing out onto the floor.

Luke stumbled on. He barely made it to the door. With numb fingers, he fumbled for the release, expecting it wouldn’t open for him, but it swished to the side to reveal a man clad in the white of an imperial medical uniform blocking his way out.

He looked perplexed at Luke. "Your ma-"

Luke swung the jug with all the strength he could muster, soundly clubbing it into the man’s face. The man fell back, a stunned look frozen on his face. Luke was surprised his attack had been so successful but he couldn’t afford to hesitate. It was now or never. Behind him the machine was now whistling loudly, a shrill tone sure to alert more and soon.

Luke forged on, down the blindingly lit corridor, dodging hands grasping for him.The pain in his limbs and joints spiked with every step. His breathing was becoming more and more labored, an inexplicable exhaustion gripping him. Luke stumbled into the wall, fumbling for support. The rush in his ears was becoming louder and he was feeling lightheaded. He didn’t have much more time.

There were hurried steps behind him.

“Sir, please, stop-“

Another medic stepped into his way and Luke stumbled bodily into him, unable to sidestep. Luke pushed feebly. “L-let go of me,” he managed, willing his tongue that felt like a huge useless heap in his mouth to form words, but he sounded incomprehensible even to his own ears.

Miraculously the man backed up. Luke wasn’t about to question it. There was a door right ahead of him. He dashed toward it and it opened on his approach.

“Please, your Majesty! You need to get back to bed.”

Luke could see turbolifts in front of him. His way out. He staggered on, but his legs refused to cooperate halfway crossing the hall. The floor came up to meet him and the only thing that kept him from falling flat down were hands seizing him. They guided him to the floor to stretch him out on his back. In the harsh lighting from above, Luke couldn’t make out more than silhouettes of the men leaning over him, holding him down. Luke willed his body to move, to get up again, but his limbs felt like they were made out of durasteel.

Panic dropped like a veil, blocking out any coherent thought. They had him. His father, Bail, Alderaan, they were all doomed now.

“… get a stretcher here, now!” someone snapped. “And inform Lord Vader.”

The name cut through the fuzz of panic in his brain that made it hard to focus on anything. “Vader,” Luke repeated. “I need’t speak… with him,” he slurred.

“Of course, Sir,” the same voice reassured him. “He will be here momentarily.”

Luke was lifted up and placed on the hurriedly delivered stretcher.

No.

Luke unsuccessfully made to push away the hands holding him down, before straps were fastened around him and a breathing mask was pressed on his face, muffling any further attempt at coherent protest.

“Please, Sir, relax.”

The stretcher moved as it was lifted up. Luke wanted to get up again but he was exhausted beyond belief, all his earlier, adrenaline-fueled energy spent. He lost track of the light panels going past above him and his world faded back to black.

+++

Reassuring the young emperor of their best intentions was proving as difficult as the nightly escapade of the boy had promised it to be. Jamis Then, responsible head medic, wished for the first time after days of tiptoeing around the increasingly impatient and furious Lord Vader that the Dark Lord was here to explain the situation to the boy himself. But Vader had left barely a standard hour earlier to tend to unpostponable business that he had undoubtedly left when he had been informed of the young emperor’s near escape. That left only himself to bring the boy up to speed on recent galaxy-shattering political changes after a solid six standard days of blissful ignorance in a bacta tank.

And it seemed that the nomination of the prince of Alderaan to Emperor of the known galaxy was to the boy just as confusing and hard to believe as it was to Jamis and likely every sentient being in the galaxy. And even if the late Emperor Palpatine had named the boy his successor, sidelining his long-time loyal enforcer and generally presumed heir apparent Vader, as the media had tirelessly proclaimed, it seemed an unlikely move for Lord Vader not to seize the opportunity and take what was so unexpectedly taken from him by force. Even more so as the new young emperor was in no shape to fend for his right or his very life for that matter, a fact carefully glossed over by the many news reports presenting only older holos that showed the boy healthy and well.

Jamis watched the boy from the corner of his eyes. Upon waking the second time, the boy seemed no less distressed despite, or maybe because of, finding himself with company. He had recoiled when he spotted Jamis who had taken up position at his bedside to watch over him and stop another unfortunate misunderstanding. Jamis had given him a datapad containing the compiled reports and news.

A datapad Luke Organa was still clutching like it was a lifeline, swiping through the articles with growing urgency, as if that would erase their contents.

He looked a lot like he was ready to bolt, eyeing the door with haunted, longing looks. Jamis could only hope that he wouldn’t make yet another sudden dash through the medbay. Lord Vader had made amply clear what he would do in that case.

“This is a joke,” Luke Organa mouthed with a small voice and not for the first time. “This isn’t true, it can’t be.”

Jamis was at a loss what to say, but he opened his mouth anyway to offer some words of comfort. He was saved by the door opening in that very moment.

A junior medic poked his head into the room.

“M-my Emperor?” he tried to catch the boy’s attention as politely as he could. He kept his gaze glued to the floor to avoid looking the emperor in the eyes. Luke Organa jumped regardless. He eyed the newcomer with great suspicion, taking in his medic’s uniform and finally relaxed a fraction.

“What is it?” he asked warily.

“The… the Senator of Alderaan has requested an audience, Sir.”

Instantly, the boy’s face lit up and he sat up a little straighter. “Please, let him in,” he said eagerly.

Jamis felt as relieved as the boy looked. Of course, the boy’s father. Perhaps Bail Organa could explain the young emperor the situation. The man that had spent every minute he was allowed in the medbay keeping vigil over the prone form of his son and taking potshots at Lord Vader whenever they met.

Jamis became aware that Organa was eyeing him unhappily. It wasn’t hard to guess what was on the boy’s mind. He cleared his throat and offered a small bow. “If you allow, Sir, I would take my leave.”

+++

Bail eyed his tired reflection that stared back at him from the polished metal surface of the turbolift. He rubbed the scruff on his chin. Bail had spent every hour he was allowed in the medbay watching Luke float in the bacta tank, only occasionally removed from the healing liquid for check-ups and more procedures to undo the damage the intensive electric current had done to his nerves, tissues, and bones, peacefully and oblivious to the way the galaxy had started turning around him. 

At the entrance to the medical ward of the Imperial Palace that Vader had ordered cleared, secured and staffed with his men to cater to Luke, Bail was faced with the same lengthy debates with the posted guards. One checked, rechecked and finally confirmed his identity as if they didn't know that he had lurked around the ward for the past days as often as he could. The man then went to confirm that Vader still allowed him entrance and access to the only patient while the other stabbed him repeatedly and unnecessary forcefully with a scanner to make sure he wasn't carrying any concealed weapons. 

The head medic came up to meet him. He led Bail past the room with the bacta tank and down a corridor to a door at the far end.

“He woke in the early hours of the morning,” he said. “He was... disoriented and confused. He mistook our staff’s intention and- well, he tried to leave. He isn’t quite believing so maybe you could-”

Bail stopped in the door. In the large ward beyond, Luke sat in a bed, propped against a pile of cushions and eyeing him with a strange mixture of joy and apprehension.

“May I come in?” Bail asked.

Luke nodded vigorously.

Bail sat down in the chair next to the bed, taking a good look at his adoptive son. Luke looked undeniably better than he had when Bail had found him in the throne room. The grayish tint to his skin that had given him a deathlike appearance was gone, but there were still traces of the the relentless attacks of the Emperor. Lukewas still very pale, there were dark circles under his eyes, and he looked slight and fragile in the large bed. Luke tried to sit up a little straighter and instantly his face contorted with pain that even this small movement cost him.

“How do you feel?” Bail asked concerned.

“The medic said that I will recover fully,” Luke said. “Just… that it might take some time,” he added, sounding very much unconvinced.

“I am glad to hear that,” Bail said. “Did he tell you about what has happened while you… slept?” he asked carefully.

Luke flinched regardless.

“I never agreed to this!” he said quickly. “This was never part of our deal!”

“What do you mean?” Bail asked, confused.

Luke stared at the sheets embarrassed, his fists curled into the fabric.

Bail settled his hand on Luke’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “Will you tell me what happened? After he took you away?” he asked.

Luke looked lost. Bail thought he wouldn’t tell what he had buried as deep as he could in his memories. But then it burst from Luke. The words fell from his mouth in breathless haste as if talking fast would make the horror of the first days after Vader had dragged him from Alderaan more bearable.

Bail listened quietly as Luke told him of his attempt at starving himself and how Vader had come to punish him only to pull the truth from Luke. The whole time Luke’s gaze was fixed at the corner of the room as if he couldn’t bear meeting Bail’s gaze as he told him of how Vader had broke the news to him of his true parentage. How Vader had presented irrefutable evidence and how he had made Luke agree to help Vader destroy the emperor in exchange for Vader’s promise to spare his homeworld.

“I didn’t want to believe him at first, I thought he only said so to manipulate me… but it’s the truth, I know that now.” Luke shoulders drooped.“But I swear, I never agreed to become emperor, it was just about helping him stand against Palpatine. I-“

Luke broke off, tracing with a finger a dark line zigzagging over the back of his hand. Bail knew that under the pajama many more of these lines covered body and limbs, evidence of what Palpatine had done.Bail waited patiently until Luke had found his voice again.

“I don’t remember much of… of what happened after the party,” he said quietly. “I-I killed him, didn’t I?”

Luke raised his head for the first time since he had started his story and searched for Bail’s eyes, pleadingly, trying to find the answer in them. Bail reached out to take Luke’s hand, but Luke recoiled.

“I’m sorry, father, I shouldn’t have. I stained our heritage, our traditions-“

A dry sob broke the quiet. Bail pulled Luke toward him and into a tight embrace. “It is okay, my son. You had no choice. You did right.”

Bail ran his hand through Luke’s blonde locks, calling him his son and reassuring him again and again. Luke’s small frame shook with sobs. It took a long while for Luke to finally quiet down.

“Did you… did you know Vader was my father?” Luke mumbled into Bail’s shoulder.

Bail hesitated. “I did,” he said eventually.

Luke sat back, breaking the embrace. He looked at Bail with red eyes. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

Bail took a deep breath, steeling himself. For many years he had avoided this conversation, always knowing that one day he would have to tell Luke the truth after all. The truth how Luke had come to their house and what really had happened to his birth parents.

“It was during the final days of the Clone Wars,” he began. “Your father had been a Jedi during the war, but Palpatine had managed to corrupt him and turn him against the order. When the purges began I fled with the last Jedi Master to Polis Massa. Obi-Wan Kenobi, Vader’s former master, came to meet us there with your mother. She was already in labor and in a bad constitution. There had been a fight between Kenobi and your father. Your mother died shortly after she gave birth to you.”

Luke was listening intently. He wiped his eyes with a sleeve of his shirt.

“I am sorry, Luke. We should have told you this long before, but Breha and I were worried that the truth would destroy you. Kenobi assured us that your father was killed in the duel. Only a while later, when Vader emerged for the first time, he contacted us again with the suspicion that your father had survived after all and was now more dangerous than ever. We agreed to keep you safe and hidden, passing you off as our own son.”

Bail reached to brush some hair out of Luke’s face. It was still much shorter than his son ever wore it back in the happier days on Alderaan. He studied Luke’s face for a moment.

“When you first learned you were adopted, we considered you too young to be confronted with the whole truth and later we never found the right moment to tell you,” he continued.  “When Vader came to collect you, we feared he would recognize your potential and hand you over to the Emperor. We wanted to spare this fate from you. I didn’t think Vader could even still have anything like fatherly feelings, so keeping the secret seemed the only way to keep you safe while you were imprisoned.”

“But he’s not like that,” Luke said fervently. “He does care about me.”

Bail held the boy’s gaze for a moment. “I’ve seen what he did to you, Luke. I had to watch.”

“It wasn’t his idea. Palpatine had ordered it to punish you. Vader told me he wanted to hide me, but how could I? Palpatine had a huge battle station built, I saw it myself. His plan was to destroy Alderaan. I couldn’t let that happen. So I agreed to stay to let Vader train me. I shouldn’t have, but it was the only way.”

“You did nothing wrong, Luke,” Bail said. “It was my fault you were arrested. We never told you of these things to protect you, but Palpatine wasn’t wrong in suspecting me to be part of a growing resistance both in the Senate and outside,” Bail confessed. “I could never imagine that Palpatine would stoop to abducting you when he couldn’t prove my involvement.”

“It doesn’t matter, father. Vader said he’d let me go and now Palpatine is defeated. I’m sure he’d understand. Please, let’s just get a shuttle and go home.“

It pained Bail to hear the desperation in Luke’s voice. But he couldn’t help. “I… I can’t-“ he said and it wasn’t just his doubts that Vader would indeed let his son go just like that.

Luke’s face darkened. “I don’t want this, father. I don’t want to be Emperor. Please-”

“I understand, Luke. But perhaps it is a good thing, at least for the time being,” Bail said slowly. Luke stared at him with dismay, ready to object, but Bail forged on. He had given this much thought over the past days and now. he needed to convince Luke of the necessary course of action.

“Vader is dangerous,” he said. “No matter what he promised you, he has used this power vacuum of the past days to tear through the ranks of actual and potential resistance. He locked down Coruscant and has a good portion of the Imperial leadership still interned. All news is tightly controlled but his forces seem to have engaged the parts of the Imperial fleet that refused to surrender at Brentaal and fighting has erupted on many worlds.”

Luke listened, looking tense.

“We can’t allow Vader to rule, nor let the tyrants and warlords Palpatine installed to govern the sectors try to secure their portion of this galaxy. It would plunge the galaxy into another costly civil war. You could balance this out and find a peaceful solution.”

“But how?”

“Vader seems dead set on relinquishing control to you. He has announced that you are the one in power and that he would follow your orders.”

Bail took a deep breath.

“Luke, you have to take control.”

+++

Chapter Text

+++

Luke sat on the edge of his bed, quietly watching the heated exchange between his visitors unfold. He had little doubt who would win this exchange in the end and Luke had no strength to spare to speak up and stop either of them arguing. He needed to collect his strength for what would inevitably follow.

“You tell him,” Bail demanded with all the imperiousness of his senate voice.

The head medic Bail had jabbed his finger at, defied possibility when his already pale face turned even whiter. His eyes were darting for a moment between Bail Organa and Lord Vader, the two men that had turned his otherwise tranquil medbay into their latest battle arena. The man swallowed heavily before daring to address Vader.

“M-my Lord, my deepest apologies, but the Senator is right. It is highly inadvisable for the emperor to exert himself and-“

Words failed the man when Vader’s masked gaze that had been fixed on Luke, sharply turned to stared him down instead.

“His attendance is unavoidable-“

“That is not for you to decide, Vader,” Bail interrupted. “Luke needs rest.”

Luke was thankful for Bail speaking for him. He wasn’t sure how he could make Vader understand that he was asking for the impossible at any rate. Every single one of the short walks down the corridor of the medcenter were exhausting. Each such excursion, accompanied by a flock medics and physiotherapists swarming around him, brought Luke to the limit of his strength and often enough beyond. No matter how much effort he put into the prescribed exercises to regain strength and control over his aching limbs, he had yet to made noticeable progress.To scale half the palace and then give a speech, to be recorded and broadcasted across the galaxy, as if he was the calm and collected emperor, in charge and on top of the situation was plain impossible.

“I wish to talk to the emperor alone,” Vader rumbled and Luke stiffened.

From the corner of his eye he could see Bail fluster.

“It’s okay,” Luke said quickly. His voice sounded small even to his own ears. “Please.”

The attending medics positively fled the room, glad to escape the cross-fire. Bail lingered. Luke shook his head, hoping his adoptive father would drop it. Bail hesitated, then he left but not without throwing Vader a glare.

Luke braced himself for the lecture Vader inevitably was about to deliver. Vader clasped his hands behind his back.

“They’re scared of you,” Luke said quietly, when the door had closed behind Bail and Vader had let the silence drag between them.

“They believe I terrorize you,” he stated. “That I have put you in this state.”

Luke bit his lip with guilt.

“They believe you are little more to me than a pawn,” Vader continued. He started pacing the ward. “Senators, governors and military leaders turn to me for orders, flagrantly ignoring that you are emperor.”

“I’m aware.”

“Is that so?” Vader turned sharply and stabbed a finger in Luke’s direction. “Then you understand the necessity to put a stop to such rumors.”

“A speech won’t change that-”

“Hardly. But considering the ever louder growing doubts if you are even still alive, young one, you will find this a small price to pay.

Luke winced. Vader ignored it. “The only way you can dissuade these speculations is by making a public appearance. Show them that youare in control.”

“I can’t even walk to the fresher without help,” Luke said under his breath, but Vader seemed to have heard him regardless.

“You willget better, son,” Vader said, as if he could just command Luke to be healthy again. “In the meantime, you must draw on the Force to give you strength.”

Luke looked down, kneading his hands. “That’s- that’s a thing I wanted to talk to you about,” he said, still focusing on his hands. Vader’s gaze was drilling into his skull. “I can’t,” he finally admitted.

“What do you mean?”

“The Force. I can’t feel it anymore, father. It’s gone, just… gone. I think I lost it when…” Luke trailed off, unable to put into words what had happened. But Vader seemed to have understood regardless.

Luke didn’t look up from his hands when Vader placed a hand on Luke’s head. Luke was sure that Vader was using the Force to verify what Luke had said, but where Luke used to be able to feel Vader’s probes, he now couldn’t feel a thing.

“Is- is that normal?” Luke asked, his eyes still locked on his hands.

Vader’s hand retreated, only to find his chin and turn him up with gentle pressure.

“It is possible,” Vader conceded. “I know of no other Force user who survived a comparable attack from Palpatine for long enough to tell if this effect is common.”

Luke felt his stomach fill with ice at the implications.

“It willreturn, son,” Vader said with certainty. “Just as your strength will.”

Luke wanted to point out that Vader himself had said there was no way to be sure, but he swallowed his words. It was just another argument he had no strength for. It was the same empty pep talk the medics were giving him when Luke was failing at the simplest exercises. Same like the empty reassurances Bail and Vader gave him that he could make a fine emperor.

All empty lies.

Admiral Piett had submitted his resignation that very morning. It had truly cemented to Luke that no one in their right mind would chose to follow his lead. Not even those who had taken pity with him before.

The door to the ward slid open again, revealing a medic pushing a hover chair into the room. Luke heart sank even further.

+++

Luke stared in dismay at the shimmering metal and gemstones laid out on the table in front of him. More than a dozen different crowns sat on a dark cloth. An aide was babbling on, presenting the crowns and pointing out the features of the different models and how they were shaped after the symbols of power of different core systems. Luke tried his best to stay focused but he couldn’t help his mind drifting off again and again, brooding over the impending coronation that crept ever closer.

“Luke!”

Vader’s sharp tone dragged Luke from his thoughts. He looked up. Luke could feel his father’s annoyance and anger even when his mask couldn’t show any of these emotions. Clearly Luke’s distraction had not remained unnoticed. All eyes were on him and Luke could feel blood rush into his cheeks.

“I…” Luke started awkwardly. “Apologies, I was in thoughts.”

“That is quite alright, your Majesty,” the aide hastily assured him, now looking positively alarmed. “If you allow...”

Luke nodded, intent to stay focused now. “Please, carry on.”

The aide made a slight bow. Quickly he jumped right back into his presentation. “As I was saying, this model was designed after the jobal leaf wreath used by the triumphant emperors of old on Anaxes after victorious campaigns. It would highlight your strong affinity to the military and ease winning you the favor of powerful families in the Azure sector.”

Luke shook his head decisively. He tried to keep the sour grimace from his face. Being held hostage for months on a warship hardly constituted an affinity for any sort of military and he’d rather jump into a trash compactor than openly affiliate himself with the warlords that reigned over Anaxes and its sector for centuries.

The aide was looking even more uncomfortable. “Um… of course.” He moved to the next crown. “This one was intended to combine the stylized wings of the traditional crown of Alderaan and the organic design of crowns used on Brentaal IV. A bridge between your homeworld and the core-“

“That is enough,” Vader rumbled, stopping the man short. “Leave us.”

The man threw a pitying glance toward Luke, but rushed out the door with rest of the attendants. Luke watched the door close behind the last bowing aide and they were alone.

“I don’t think it will help the impression that you are threatening and maltreating me behind closed doors, if you-“

“You are distracted.” Vader cut him off, accusingly. “You need to put in the necessary effort into this decision.”

Luke crossed his arms defensively. “I don’t care. Any will do.”

“Do you not wish to try them on to select one?” Vader asked.

Luke shrugged. “I don’t see why. They will all be the same. Really, any will do.”

“You should not underestimate the power of the symbolism they represent, my son.”

“Why bother with one at all,” Luke burst out. “Palpatine never did.”

“A crown will be beneficial to stress your legitimate claim to the throne.”

“Legitimate claim,” Luke huffed bitterly. “I killed a man. I have no claim to anything.”

Vader ignored his comment. “A crown will lend you more authority.”

“So without some gold on my head I have none?” Luke asked testily.

“You are still young-“

“I am unsuitable. You put me in this place. A crown won’t fix that people think I am merely your puppet. Don’t you think I don’t notice how they always turn to you first. They think you pull all the strings in the background.”

“A crown may not change that impression. Only you can do that, Luke. Take charge, take control.”

Luke took a deep breath, but swallowed his heated retort. His pleading for Vader to choose another one for the job hadn’t fruited, no matter how many times he had begged him. He sagged his shoulders in defeat.

“Fine,” he sighed. He stepped closer to the table, displaying the crowns. “But I still don’t care what the crown should look like.”

Vader stepped up to the table next to him. “Then I will choose one for you.” Vader reached for the crown to the very right. It had three golden bands interlacing and weaving around themselves like twines and in the middle there were three blood red stones set in it. The aide had explained that it was designed after styles used in the Naboo monarchy.

Vader took the crown and placed it almost reverently on Luke’s head, brushing through his blonde locks. To Luke it was cold and heavy and, despite the jewelers’ best efforts, uncomfortable. But he kept his chin raised, not wanting to show how much he felt weighed down by it.

“Your mother was elected queen of Naboo at only thirteen years old, Luke. And to date she is celebrated by the Naboo as an efficient and kind ruler who managed to lead them well through peacetime and in times of war and disaster. She went on to become their senator for many more years,” Vader said. “She too had to convince those who thought her unsuitable because of her age.”

Vader firmly took Luke by his shoulders. He turned him around to the mirror placed next to the display of crowns. Luke stared at their reflections. His own pale face stared back at him, the heavy crown on his head. Vader towered over him, his black gloves never leaving Luke’s small shoulders.

“I know you will do well, my son. Just as your mother did.”

Luke wished he could share his father’s convictions

+++

Later that night he sat in the relative darkness of his bedroom. The light of the never ceasing traffic of Imperial city were casting their lights into the room, but other than that Luke hadn’t turned a light on. Luke stared out in to the lines of speeders making their way across the sky, littering the whole sky, but giving the imperial palace a wide berth. The air space around the massive structure was restricted to authorized speeders only, constantly patrolled to repel intruders. It made Luke feel oddly detached from the myriads of beings out there. 

The permanent orange glow of the city lights didn’t allow for a single star to be seen on the night’s sky. The vivid night sky over Aldera and the ever-changing pattern as he roamed the galaxy on board the Executor already felt like a distant memory. It was as if this wretched city-planet was drifting alone in its own galaxy, detached from all the other places.

A planet Luke could never again leave to be truly free.

Free from being controlled, from being followed wherever he went, from be pushed and dragged around and shaped as others wanted him to be.

When had been the day it all went wrong?

Had it been the day Vader had appeared in his home to drag him away? Or the day when Luke had so foolishly caved in and given up his true identity? Or the day, not quite that long ago when he had hidden a lightsaber in his tunic and killed-

Luke stared desolately into the dark room. It was hard enough to keep the horrible memories in check when he was surrounded by people. Alone at night he was plagued by them even more.

In the corner a dress form stood, displaying the clothes he was expected to wear tomorrow during the coronation. It was a crisp and stern uniform, echoing the Imperial dress uniforms worn by officers for special occasions. It was topped with a wide, flowing cloak supposed to be reminiscent of his traditional wear when he was still the prince of Alderaan. It ended in a cape just as long and billowing as Vader’s.

And the clothes were all white.

It was a travesty to make him wear white. He should no longer be allowed to wear that color. It symbolized the ideals of what should be his home, none of which Luke could ever again truly represent without being a hypocrite. He had brought a weapon with him to kill a man. He had murderedsomeone. What Vader had told him of what had happened in the throne room that night, mixed with disjointed memories, guilt and nightmares that haunted him almost every night.

He had considered asking the medic for something to help with the nightmares that stole his much-needed rest at night. But if Luke did, he would almost certainly feed this back to Vader and that was something Luke wanted to avoid at all costs. His father would only use that to launch into another long speech on how Luke should be strong when he just didn’t want to listen that Luke had no more strength to spare.

He felt like a caged Cairoka bird, loved for their soft cooing and twittering, who in captivity would just fly against the bars of their cage until they lacked the energy to muster another attempt, ultimately wasting away.

If he allowed tomorrow to happen, he would never get off this nightmarish hover-train again. This was his last chance to leave, to escape. His last chance to be free. His last chance to escape the choking pressure threating to crush him.

Luke got up and crouched under the large bed, fishing out the small bag that he had started putting together from the day he had been moved here from the medical wing, containing all items he had managed to hide that could help him escape. Water bottles and ration bars, a datapad with some scrambled information that Luke had collected, some coordinates far away from the core if he would make it to a hyperspace worthy vessel and a hastily drawn map of the palace to navigate to a hangar.

Luke opened the wardrobe and pushed aside the fine clothes to get to the bundle of plain black pants and tunic that he had deposited there. He put them on.

He stared in the direction of the exit. Even now in the dead of night he wasn’t alone. Luke tried to reach out with the Force, but where the Force should be, waiting for him, there was still utter nothingness. Luke now knew it for sure, Palpatine had broken something in him.

It made him feel hollow and useless.

But he needed to pull himself together. His loss of the Force was all the more reason to leave. Without that he had even less business to become emperor.

And he didn’t need the Force to know that there was an inordinate amount of people in and around his quarters. There were guards, aides, servants and medics in case he needed any assistance. Bail wouldn’t be far away and Vader too. Even on board the Executor he seemed to have more privacy than he did here.

But there was an air hatch here too, just as there had been on the Executor.

Luke climbed on the sideboard underneath it and grabbed the grid with both hands.

Almost without a sound it opened.

+++