Chapter Text
It started when Luke was sixteen. Although, to be more accurate, he supposed that it started long before then. Maybe when Luke was eight years old, watching as the inquisitors razed his farm and slaughtered Beru and Owen before burning the bodies in front of him.
Or maybe it started long before that, at the fall of the Jedi — a disaster only possible through his father’s betrayal. The most powerful force user to have ever lived, save the emperor himself. Or so the emperor loved to tell him, whenever Luke felt was feeling particularly willful and needed to remember his place.
It is your own blood’s fault that you are here in this position. The emperor’s voice crooned like black venom in his veins, boiling and eating what used to exist.
It amazed Luke that there was still anything left to eat away at. Sometimes, he thought that his entire body was already made of vileness, of evil so potent that he could feel nothing else. But yet, there it was, cruel and seeping as the emperor’s wrinkled hand stroked his soft, lustrous hair.
Like starlight. Like the sun. Like everything else about him.
He was getting distracted now. The emperor would not like that. The emperor liked very little except Luke thinking exactly what he wanted him to.
So he focused on the vileness of the emperor’s harsh, yet bitterly smooth voice, and how it dissolved deep into his skin and settled inside of Luke, never to be rid of again.
Your own blood, your own past marked you for suffering. If not, you might yet be hidden from me, trapped behind these very walls, shielded and comforted by the Jedi in their lies.
The Jedi. Luke had constantly warring opinions about them. On one hand, he has been told all his life about how weak they were. About their silly rules, about how they corrupted themselves by fearing fear, by fearing anything at all. Old, obsolete, stupid.
But yet, when he was alone, Luke could not help but think of the life that the emperor often mocked him would have been his.
Being with others like him, being guided in rigid, cult-like mantras — deceived, but protected. Could he imagine these dark walls being full of life and people? Could this palace have once been a temple, the complete antithesis of the emperor’s unquenchable darkness and suffocating power?
It was these kinds of thoughts that lead Luke to the conclusion that being a Jedi could not be so bad. Not if they cared about their young. Not if they were together. Even if everything they believed in was wrong. Not that it mattered. They were all dead.
But for all of his training and torture, Luke could not find it in himself to think badly of them, or the Light side of the Force.
And maybe these exact thoughts was why Luke was here now, sneaking out of the palace, climbing into the back of a cargo ship heading to the Outer Rim, and probably sacrificing the last tiny bit of freedom that was left to him.
And because of this one action, Luke’s story started at sixteen, the age that for the first time, Luke disobeyed the emperor and succeeded.
As the ship rattled, boosters flaring to life around him, Luke wondered briefly whether the emperor would kill him for his betrayal.
But the hope was quickly quashed, before it even had a chance to spark to life. The emperor would never kill him. He would do everything else though, and that was what Luke truly feared.
But he had to do this. He had to do this for the child.
A sense of delirious excitement and foreboding roiled inside of him as the ship shifted from regular movement, stilling for a moment in that breathless moment before hitting hyperspace.
And then he was jolted backwards as everything else hurtled forward. Luke’s arms screamed as they were almost pulled out of their sockets, his fingers clutching the netted cargo with all his might.
Dislocated shoulders were better than a broken back though, which is what Luke would have gotten if he had collided into the back of the ship at the speed they were going.
The Force could have stopped him from moving. But Luke didn’t dare use the Force if he didn’t have to. Already, he was worrying that even having his powers available to him was too much. Should he have latched the Force shackles on himself the moment that he left the palace?
No. He had to be able to sense for danger near him. At least until the child was safe and Luke was returning. Then it didn’t matter.
He could do it until then.
Luke heard the story of the Force sensitive child on accident. But what a fortunate accident it was.
When the emperor received guests, he often liked Luke to kneel at the edge of his throne. But only for the most privileged and devoted of his subjects. Ones that would not speak of what they saw in the chamber, ones that would not look at Luke too long, or at all.
Sometimes, if the emperor wanted to make a real statement, he let Luke stand beside the throne, always a respectful step back, silent and without a word.
But today, Luke had been ordered no such thing. No, his schedule for the day was training with the saber in the morning, two Force shackles for the rest of the day until nightfall when he would serve the emperor in his private quarters.
Luke was an obedient pet. He didn’t go where he wasn’t supposed to, he didn’t listen when he was told not to.
Most of the time.
But that day had actually been one of his obedient days. It truly had been an accident that he overheard what he did.
He had been working. When Luke wasn’t training, he was always working. In the blood-curdling words of the emperor one night: You will not stay in my good graces by simply doing nothing. No matter how much you would like to.
Since Luke wasn’t allowed to leave the Imperial Center without stringent rules — well, honestly, the Imperial City. The emperor hated Luke to be more than a few miles away, even on the most well-protected planet in the galaxy — Luke’s work were mostly domestic.
He worked on trade routes, organized supply lines to and from the Imperial Center, monitored the highest levels of communication of fiscal intel, all from the comfort of the palace and the surrounding Imperial government buildings.
Luke had not meant to go near the throne room when he had not been summoned. He tried to avoid the throne room as much as humanly possible if he could manage it. But today, it had been unavoidable.
There had been a defector in the ranks. And not just any low-level private, who Luke could have sentenced himself and be done with it. It had been a grand admiral. Luke had literally walked in on the high officer stealing information from one of the main control centers during the middle of lunch. Like Luke didn’t work overtime or through his lunch breaks as it was.
Luke hated finding rebels. He tried not to think about them too much, because thinking could go straight back to the emperor when he sifted through his memories at the end of the night like they were broken pieces of sand.
Luke tried his best not to think at all, most of the time.
But it was worse that it was a high-ranking admiral defecting. The smaller ones, Luke was able to just send to be interrogated and quietly dealt with. Killed with mercy.
(He didn’t have a choice. He didn’t have a choice — if he didn’t do this, he would know. He always knew — )
But a high-ranking officer meant alerting someone more senior than him. It meant not a quick and easy death, but suffering.
(But Luke had to do it. Didn’t he remember the last time that he had spared a rebel? Tried to hide one from him? He couldn’t let that happen again — )
Luke tried not to think as he walked the long, familiar route to the throne room. The guards that saw him didn’t even hesitate. They saluted to him in silence and let him pass.
No one spoke to him unless they were either very confident or very foolish.
Luke stopped at the blank gray slate door and leaned his ear in. The emperor probably already sensed him, but it would not do to knock and interrupt a meeting.
Luke had honed the ability to sharpen his senses early on in his life. It had not been a skill gained by choice. But listening and seeing from afar had indeed become a boon in Luke’s otherwise limited life.
The emperor was in a meeting. Luke couldn’t tell who it was, but it wasn’t Darth Vader.
Luke hated seeing Darth Vader. Almost just as much as seeing the emperor.
Sometimes even more.
Now that Luke knew someone was in there though, he was planned to pull his senses back to himself before the emperor noticed. Then, he’d wait patiently until they left.
But a word caught his attention and he stilled. “— the Force.”
Strange. No one talked about the Force, unless it was him, Darth Vader, or the emperor. True, high inquisitors and their brethren often came around, but they rarely spoke about much than statistics and progress.
Luke stayed listening with bated, anxious breath.
The emperor’s dark voice curled through the air and straight into Luke, as if caressing and pinning him still all at once.
“Is it possible? One of Yoda’s own kind at last?” It was the greed in the emperor’s voice, the unparalleled obsession that had Luke freezing with something he had not let himself feel so harshly in a long time.
The emperor’s voice was never like that. Never with anyone else but Luke.
“Yes, Your Imperial Majesty. The child is in the custody of a small base on Akiva. The inquisitor assigned to that sector is currently with containing it. What would you like to be done?”
The emperor’s laugh pulled Luke from his stupor. Blood-curdling dread still pooled in Luke’s gut.
Luke’s entire life flashed before his eyes. A terrible life. A poor life. One he would not want on anyone else.
“Bring it to me immediately. And I will see for myself the power of this child.”
Luke pulled back with a stumble. He hoped dearly that the emperor was too delirious in his excitement to notice the slight flare in the Force as he did so.
He turned to flee, then stopped himself just in time. The guards knew that he had come here. If he left now, the emperor might become suspicious. Luke had to be calm.
Luke forced himself to stand still, relaxed and silent as he stared at the door and gathered his swirling thoughts.
There was a child. Another Force sensitive child, just like Luke had been. He was certain that if the emperor knew Luke had found out, he would want Luke to be jealous. To fear that he would be replaced. To want to kill the child.
But Luke didn’t care about that. For one, he did not fear death. That was something the emperor feared, but not Luke. Death would be a mercy Luke could only dream about.
Besides, Luke knew that the emperor would never get rid of him. No, this child would be the new addition to the collection, a collection that if Luke was even slightly more foolish to think, would stop after this new acquisition. But of course, it would just keep growing if it began here.
What Luke feared wasn’t being replaced in importance or status. Like any of those things were real in this sickening place. What Luke feared was the emperor growing any stronger than he already was.
What he feared was the life this new child would have. Would they become just like Luke? Would they have to do the things Luke did? Experience what Luke experienced now?
Luke couldn’t stand for it.
The cargo ship was freezing. Of course it would be, in the dead middle of space, soaring out of hyperspace and into the star cluster that held the planet of Akiva.
Luke allowed himself just enough use of the Force to keep his blood pumping, to keep his heart beating, and his mind conscious, even though it had been days.
The emperor was certainly looking for him. He might be so blind with rage at this point that he has forgotten about the Force sensitive child — at least, Luke certainly hoped so. He had waited a whole day after the discussion before leaving, scouring for other ships leaving for the Outer Rim.
There were none, of course. Unfortunately, Luke had been forced to take the ship that was probably going to the Akiva solely to pick up the child. It was too direct a route for his liking, but it was all Luke had.
All Luke could hope for is that the emperor didn’t send Darth Vader after him. Or worse, come for Luke himself.
It had actually happened, once. A long time ago, back when no one yet knew about Luke. Luke had run away, much like now, trying with all his desperation to go anywhere not here. But he had been more foolish then. Not as well trained.
Memories of blood spattered against the back of Luke’s eyelids and he flung them open with a gasp. His frozen fingers ripped with agony as they touched the scalding cold hull.
The ship was rumbling, in the way metal only did when inflicted on by heavy gravity. They were docking. They were here.
Luke forced a burst of power through his hypothermic body in an effort to get himself to hide before the cargo bay doors open.
It was just enough sensation to flare in his limbs, a painful, agonizing pain so harsh that Luke was forced to bite his tongue almost half-off as he wrenched under a tarp, the doors opening for stormtroopers to stomp into the hold and begin organizing removal.
Luke had attempted to check the cargo for anything useful, but all of it was bolted shut. Even though he had brought his portable toolkit on his belt, the bolts would be impossible to screw back on without a mechanized arm or the Force.
So, Luke had gave up on the crates. All he had was his lightsaber and the thin black cloak he had stolen in the ship hangar when he boarded.
Luke had many fine, beautiful clothes. Warm and insulated. But they were all in colors of exquisite beauty.
White was the predominant one. Most of his wardrobe was made of the purest, most dazzling white. Like snow. Like hope. Like something to stain.
Then, there were other luxurious colors: soft cream, rich blues, viridian greens. All fit for royalty. All meant to attract attention.
Luke didn’t have anything darker, so he was forced to steal everything he now wore, save his boots. Luckily, boots were the only practical objects that he always had in black. Plus, he doubted any of the soldiers’ sizes would fit him. Luke already had to tie the shirt in the back and belt the trousers to its tightest notch in order to fit them enough to move.
When the troopers had moved enough cargo that they wouldn’t be back for a few minutes, Luke snuck out in silence.
Leaving the shipyard unnoticed was laughably easy. Luke had trained for the last eight years in pain and torment. He had studied under the best, suffered under the worst. The small-scope of vision of the troopers’ helmets made it pretty much impossible for anyone to ever spot someone as skilled as Luke.
Akiva was hot and rainy. Within two minutes of leaving the ship, the cold had dripped from Luke’s limbs, replaced by a boiling, soul-numbing heat.
Luke mused that probably going from extreme cold to extreme heat with no food, water, or sleep was probably a very bad idea. But he could suffer later. He was already going to be suffering so much for doing this, no matter what happened.
Luke has visited planets before. Core ones, mainly, under the watch of many terrified officers who would need to fear for much more than their lives if something even brushed Luke’s tunic the wrong way.
But he had been on missions before, on rare occasions. The clothes he was given for those missions were always taken away from him as soon as he returned to the Imperial Center.
Luke had never been to the Outer Rim before.
It felt different. Luke knew that he was likely making it all up in his head, but even the air felt cleaner here. His body felt lighter.
Every instance that Luke could leave the suffocating air of the palace was a blessing, one that Luke treasured but tried not to think about, lest the emperor find it in his mind later.
But it was like Luke could feel the lack of imperial rule here. He wound through the narrow streets, darting sharply as a bala-bala speeder almost rode him down, and then another right behind them. After that, he stayed pressed close to the walls.
He wrapped his robe tighter around himself, using its immense bulk to hide even deeper in the cowl of its hood.
The real question was where the child was on Akiva. Luke had not been able to do more research into exactly where they were holding the child, for fear that any logs Luke pulled up would be investigated after his disappearance.
But they had said the child was being held by an inquisitor. There weren’t many of those in the Outer Rim, and not many places that were suited to housing one. The child would be in the most secure and luxurious locations of whatever was on the planet. So Luke went straight for the heart of the capital.
The temple-looking structure that loomed in the distance was impressive, but Luke didn’t go right for it. This was the Outer Rim. The Empire didn’t have as strong a presence here to take over major government structure. If it was an imperial presence here, they would likely be in an adjoining building on the side, immediately discernible as imperial to an unwelcoming Outer Rim planet, but convenient.
Luke was right. His gaze immediately pinpointed on an unassuming building, only two stories tall, but quite wide, easily overlooked by the size of the capitol building beside it.
But from the number of humanoid guards surrounding it, and the way the native folk avoided looking at the building, that was the one.
Luke didn’t dare stretch out his senses for Force signatures, in case someone sensed him. He would just have to go in blind. And he needed to get in and out before they tried to move the child.
Now for the most difficult part.
Luke pulled a cuff from his pocket. It was thin, elegant, and a gunmetal grey so dark, it looked black. It was technically one of a matching set of four.
Force binding shackles. Made of an alloy of metals that Luke didn’t know the name of, forged in the heart of Mustafar. There were many of Force binding cuffs littered across the stars, but the ones Luke had were special.
Melted within the metal was blood. Blood from Luke — and blood from the emperor himself, if his words had been let to be believed.
You should be honored, Astrus. For me to weaken myself, just for you to wear on your person. No one else has ever had such glorious privilege.
The ghost of a shiver ran through Luke at the memory.
That, along with whatever dark Force rituals had been done on them made them more binding, more unequivocally dangerous than any cheap cuff bought from the dark markets.
Not just that. They did something to Luke, if they were on for too long.
And if all four were on him…
Luke shook himself from the stupor. He had no time to waste. The child could be getting moved at any moment.
He unlocked the binding. Then, not even tensing in anticipation, he clicked it onto his wrist.
It was like a blanket of iron falling over him. A muting of the world that made it faded, made taste dissolve to paper and sand.
Noise lost its flavor. Songs deadened to buzzing in his mind. And the Force … deserted him. Luke didn’t sway, although he wanted to.
But Luke had no choice. He had to bind himself. If he wasn’t dampened, even a trivial inquisitor who didn’t know him by sight would know he wasn’t normal. It would get back to the emperor too quickly.
It was just one cuff. One cuff was nothing.
Luke fingered the cold metal of his saber, its familiar smoothness his only balm. And then he slipped into the crowd, vanishing from sight.
It was just as easy to slip into the building, although Luke struggled to keep his steps light.
The Force bracelet didn’t just dampen Luke’s connection to the Force, although Luke did feel like a radio wave that had been snipped by an abruptly sharp pair of scissors.
The bracelet made everything sluggish. The Force wasn’t just power, it was life. Life force that ran through Luke’s body like a current, as rich and as necessary as the blood running through his veins.
Luke moved slowly. Every limb felt like pushing through water, swimming in his own haze, forgetting time and space.
Luke was used to the sensation. There were many days where two bracelets were the norm, and he still forced himself to work and speak normally. It was took to the third bracelet for it to affect his body in a truly inconvenient way.
But it was still terrifying, Luke thought, heart palpitating dangerously. Going into battle partly disabled.
Creeping into one of the locker rooms on the first floor, Luke quickly used his tiny toolkit to get spring open one of the doors. Just finagle some wiring, and you could bypass any biometric scanning quite easily.
He slipped on the trooper armor. Luke grimaced at the expected too-bigness of it.
And then he went searching.
It took him the better part of fifteen minutes, with each second that passed only raising his anxiety and throwing fake warning bells in his mind.
Luke pushed through it, trying to find the center in himself. He listened with muted senses, he used his head. He dodged others coming down hallways, emulated their posture when he was forced to walk past them.
Luke could have used the Force to find them. One shackle was not enough to cut him off. (If it had, the emperor would not have been forced to make a set of four. The emperor had been particularly pleased whenever Luke couldn’t stop himself, unleashing another burst of power, under the duress and restraints put on him.)
But he didn’t want to. What if the inquisitor sensed him? If the inquisitor was any good, they probably wouldn’t stuck on the Outer Rim, but wouldn’t that be where you would need the most powerful minions anyway? Where things were lawless and dangerous?
But Luke was in luck. One of the lower-level lieutenants walked past holding a bottle. It was empty, with only remnants of something green and viscous, but it was definitely a baby bottle.
A baby bottle. Luke was struck by the sight of it. He had expected a young child, like he had been, not a baby. The realization intensified Luke’s desperation to get this child away from here. It couldn’t become like Luke. Not even without ever experiencing love or kindness, like he had been given with Owen and Beru.
With silent steps, forcing himself to move with as much grace as he could, Luke opened the door at the end of the hall.
The black uniform of the Inquisitor flashed into view. And before the woman could turn around to face him, Luke attacked.
The blinding white of his lightsaber lit the already bright room. Luke couldn’t do the flips and jumps of someone with the Force at their fingertips, but he didn’t need it.
Luke attacked head-on with his blade. The bright red of the Inquisitor’s lightsaber lit his trooper armor and collided with his own.
The Inquisitor, with reflexes obviously enhanced by the Force, flipped over him and swung from the side to slice through his torso.
Luke blocked it easily. Gritting his teeth inside his helmet, he defended every attempt with unerring deftness, forcing the Inquisitor, who widened their eyes in surprise at the skill of their attacker, to back up.
Then they gritted their own teeth and roared. Their movements were violent, vicious — erratic. When they tried to throw things at him with the Force, it was obvious and random. The inquisitor was definitely trained, maybe they were even considered good in the academy.
Luke sneered. He didn’t need the Force to defeat something this pathetic.
Jumping onto the desk, Luke spun and smacked his hard-toed boot into the Inquisitor’s head. He felt the break of the jaw, saw the spray of blood.
Yanking the blaster from the trooper’s belt, he put it to the woman’s head and pulled the trigger.
The room turned silent and empty. Luke’s breathing echoed in his helmet, the blood pulsing turning him dizzy.
Then he got up, only stumbling slightly in the too-large suit. He checked the surroundings.
His lightsaber hadn’t touched anything except the other blade, so when any officer saw those marks, they’d only see the Inquisitor attacking. A blaster kill could have been anyone. Luke did a few more calculated blaster shots at furniture and walls, to make it look like a real fight broke out.
Then Luke scanned for something — anything — that could be a baby.
The odd, egg-shaped pod gleamed in muted silver in the corner.
The world narrowed to nothing but the metal cradle. Luke felt like he was in a dream. He didn’t know what he expected. He didn’t know why he was so scared.
Stepping forward, Luke pressed the button on the side. The floating bassinet slid open soundlessly.
The tiny body was nestled under a thin cotton blanket. Tiny, feather-like tufts of hair nestled its too-large wrinkles on its green skin, looking as rich and vibrant as a frog. It was practically buried in a robe that looked too big on it, just making it utterly smaller.
The child blinked hazily, adjusting to the sudden show of light. A tiny bit of that green fluid was still on the edge of its mouth. It gurgled with the slow mumbles of a satisfied baby right after lunch.
And then its bright, innocent eyes looked at him.
Luke took off his helmet. Then he pulled down his hood.
It wasn’t smart to do in this room, he knew that. Who knew what kind of security cameras they might have here, if any?
But Luke wanted this tiny, beautiful thing to see him. He wanted it to see him, not the thing he was pretending to be right now. Not the thing that he was everyday becoming — and was terrified he had already become.
Luke wanted it to see him and judge for itself. Sweaty, trembling, anxious — terrified.
Stripped bare.
Naked.
The little one looked up at Luke with curiosity and confusion. But no fear. No anger. Luke’s eyes welled up. His throat clogged painfully.
Luke didn’t cry much anymore. Not unless the emperor was in the room.
But something felt like it had been set free and it took everything in Luke not to have tears stream down his face.
“Hello there,” he whispered. “I’m Luke.”
They left immediately.
Luke considered grabbing the baby and running — but on further analysis, the floating bassinet is miraculously well-constructed. It’s some kind of titanium-alloy synthoid that would defend against most blaster fire. The pod also regulated temperature, and even had a small air filtration system built in.
It was probably designed specifically for the ride back to the Imperial Center.
The thought set Luke’s teeth on edge, but he wouldn’t look a gift droid in the fuse wiring. With a small apology and a reassurance, Luke closed the bassinet and adjusted with the wires so that the max speed went a little faster than what maybe was safe.
Then he grabbed the tracking remote that came with the cradle so it followed Luke around when he moved.
When he dropped out the back window and landed on the ground beneath, the cradle followed, hovering a foot above the grass like it had always been there.
Luke let out a breath of relief. Then he ran.
They weaved through the city on lighter than air feet. Luke had taken off the Force shackle, and with the world rushing back to him, so did his strength and clarity.
He didn’t let his presence flare — he was too scared already that he had. But he used every bit of his speed and natural agility to race towards the closest ship hangar.
Luke didn’t want to go back to the imperial spaceport that he arrived at. He needed a new ship, one not marked by the Empire. One that would be going anywhere than here.
And then what? What was Luke’s grand plan for saving this tiny baby from the emperor when he couldn’t even save himself from him?
Luke didn’t know, but he had to try. He had to do something, something that would help.
He wouldn’t let the emperor take this one like he had taken him.
There are not many ships at the hangar, to Luke’s despair. Not many come and go on an insignificant planet like this one.
All he needed was one. Just one that could stow away him and this little thing. In the end, it ended up being a pathetic little carrier ship that had barely enough room for a single box of cargo in the tiny bottom compartment, let alone two living bodies.
But thankfully for once, Luke was small and flexible. He curved his body around the smooth surface of the little carrier and slammed the door with the Force, feeling the metal of the ship on his back and the hard bulge of the cradle shoving all the air from his lungs in the front.
When the ship took off, it rattled and shook so violently, Luke winced visibly, which was certainly something with how much pain tolerance Luke had built up over the years.
The darkness and the cold were more encompassing in this tiny space. There was no ventilation, so Luke was forced to use his powers to recirculate the air, process the oxygen and carbon dioxide in his body, and recycle it, although he had no idea how he was doing it.
Luke was following a desperate feeling he didn’t completely understand. His study of the Force had been so specific and piecemeal, master-level extensive in some areas, and no more than a four year old learning to read in others.
For this, he doesn’t even know if this was the Light side or the Dark side of the Force. All he knew was that it was keeping him alive.
Luke knew he was probably sending a Force resonance as wide as miles by using his powers to keep himself alive. But he had to stay alive. He has to make sure this child stayed safe.
He couldn’t even open the pod at this point to check if the baby was okay. The baby should be safe in its regulated bubble, but it had to be terrified. It must have felt the shaking of the tiny ship, the bitter silence of an encroaching void of space.
Luke pressed his cheek against the freezing metal. It would probably stick his flesh to it for good, but his neck was screaming from stretching away from it.
There was no sound, and Luke was using all his concentration to manipulate science in impossible, inconceivable ways, so there was no way to reach out telepathically to talk to the baby. Was it old enough to understand speech?
But in this tiny space, Luke had to do something.
So he spoke to it.
It was barely a whisper. Luke could barely keep the air in his lungs as it was. But he did it. His tiny voice was oddly comforting in the vacuum of the universe.
“Hey there. Sorry it’s so cramped. It’ll be over soon — I promise you won’t be hurt. We’re just on a ship. Have you been on one before?”
Luke didn’t know what he was saying. He was clearly babbling now. A trait that he had not done since … well, since he was eight. But it was so easy here, in this tiny capsule that was inches away from getting sucked into space.
“You probably have, although not in a cargo hold. I haven’t been in them much either. Well, I was before. That is the second escape attempt of my life. You don’t want to hear about the first one went.” Luke swallowed.
“I know it must be scary, but I promise one day, you won’t be here anymore. You’ll be on really beautiful ships. Ones that not only have beds, but entire kitchens and gardens and towers that make you feel like you’re at the top of the world. You’re going to see the entire universe, experience hot suns, cold waters, blistering sand and soil.”
Luke kept talking. He didn’t know how long he spoke, but by the time the ship set on the ground and jarred him sharply to consciousness, he supposed it didn’t matter.
When had he fallen asleep? Kark. He could have died. Did his powers keep the air circulating?
Luke tried to get up, but went nowhere — the storage compartment was still horribly tiny. Was the baby okay? Oh god, did it live? Did he get it killed, trying to put it into this death trap of an idea?
Gods, why didn’t he make a plan?
But he didn’t get a chance to worry. The storage compartment opened and Luke didn’t even let the shocked Mon Calamari looking down at him get out a word.
He shoved his fist into the weak spot on its neck that he knew was there — he had spent months of his life learning the weaknesses and biological function of thousands of different species.
The man went down immediately and Luke scrambled out — then he cried in pain. His cheek had indeed stuck to the metal. Where had it gotten the water to do so?
Luke peeled it off with a sharp snap of the Force, the Dark Side coming to him easily in this moment of panic.
He felt blood trickle down his neck, but he didn’t care. He ran, the cradle barreling after him at top speed.
Luke didn’t know where they were. But he didn’t stop as he yanked the hood over his head and raced past the much more crowded hangar. They were somewhere more heavily settled than Akiva. That was good. They could escape better here.
Luke tried to plan as he moved. He had taken lessons in planning things, but it felt like years of study had flown out the window in a panic.
Okay — first: check the status of the baby. Second: if baby is alive, find it something to eat and check its diaper. If it had one.
After twenty minutes of sprinting, and another five minutes of dissolving into the city crowds, Luke found a dingy alleyway to settle in.
With bated breath, he opened the cradle.
The child was fidgety. It had kicked back the blankets back, leaving it only with its thick robe. But it was alive. Luke placed two frozen fingers on its neck.
The baby squealed in displeasure, recoiling back from the cold, but the skin was warm and not at all clammy.
Of course, this baby had to be one of the only races Luke had not studied. He didn’t even know its species.
Still, it was enough. Luke let out a breath.
Okay. Get it something to eat. And then he needed to figure out a real place to leave this baby. They couldn’t run forever, and the longer Luke stayed with it, the more danger it was in.
Luke grazed the pads of his fingers atop the fuzz of the baby’s head. It was all he dared to touch. He felt tainted, ugly, inside and out. He didn’t want the skin that has touched the things it has to touch something this good.
Then he gave the baby a little nod, as if they were together in some kind of business agreement. The baby cooed at him, alarm momentarily forgotten. It just stared, tilting its head, as if trying to figure Luke out. But it still wasn’t scared of him.
A smile tugged at Luke’s lips. Then he shut the bassinet.
And you were the cause of it all, Astrus. You are what made this world. Do you like what you have wrought?
Luke didn’t have a lot of credits. He didn’t carry money, nor had a bank account, nor anything else even the poorest citizen in the Outer Rim had the right to own.
(Except slaves. Of course, that was more terrible. Luke would never think otherwise.)
But luckily, Luke found some credits in the locker of the trooper he had stolen the uniform from, so that was what he used for some milk for the child.
It wasn’t that nutritious green whatever it was from before, but seventy-eight percent of the species Luke studied drank some kind of milk as a child. That was pretty good odds, wasn’t it?
In the meantime, the child glugged the milk greedily and Luke observed the timetables on the ships leaving port that day.
It had now been seventy-three standard hours since Luke left. If the entire Imperial Center wasn’t on lockdown by now, Luke didn’t have any sense at all.
He must not have sense now, as he checked the departure listings. Because Luke had no idea where the hell they should be going.
He had no idea who he could leave the child with.
He was entirely out of his depth.
“Do you have any ideas, little one?” murmured Luke absently, watching the baby lap up the last of the drink.
The child cooed at him again, a sound that made Luke want chuckle breathlessly, even though he felt like crying. It’s a strange sound. Luke couldn’t remember the last time he laughed.
Then he felt a tendril of something touch his mind and the smile vanished.
Luke was ready to throw up his defenses, everything he had, a fortress no one would ever be able to get through, except the emperor and Darth Vader — but it wasn’t a bad sensation.
The tendril was small, tentative.
Luke kept his eyes on the child, his eyes widening to a comical level. The child never looked away from him either.
And Luke, terrified for reasons he could not say, reached back.
It was light. Pure, beautiful, and unfettered. It was so miraculous, Luke wanted to cry. He thought he might have.
This was good. This was right.
This little child was powerful.
Luke was nothing like this beautiful little thing. Luke pulled away and a rush of sound and color surged back to him.
The entire world had tilted on its axis, and yet there they were. But the child looked happy, so maybe that was all that mattered.
Luke sniffled, then rubbed his face fiercely. There were tracks down his face and if his hood hadn’t been up, it might have caused a disturbance.
“Okay,” he muttered. “Let’s figure this out. There are lots of good choices for Outer Rim planets here. Do you have any good feelings about them?”
Good feelings. Ha.
The Force was what should be guiding him, or so he had been constantly told. But Luke didn’t know what to be looking for.
Luke did not use the Force to guide his decisions. Luke had not been allowed to meditate too much in one discipline. When he was first brought in, Luke learned to dwell on the darkness, on the passion, on the emotion of each individual.
But when he was feeling overwhelmed, Luke would pull back. He sought the silence, the company of something bigger than himself and the onslaught of the universe battering him.
He had been caught doing this once, falling into the peace of the Force, by none other than Darth Vader.
It had not been a good day then.
But now…
Luke bit his tongue. His eyes scanned the monitor without seeing. Was there even an answer that meant success? Luke had used too much of the Force already. Had he already injured his chances just by that alone?
If he was one of the Inquisitors, Luke wouldn’t have this problem.
No, even Darth Vader didn’t have this problem. It was just Luke. If only Luke wasn’t so inadequate.
Something soft and warm brushed against Luke’s arm. He looked up. The baby was watching with concern in his big, black eyes. Another brush against his consciousness, but this time it was full of comfort and soft colors, muted but lovely.
Oh. Luke couldn’t let himself break down now. And he couldn’t lose his grit after coming all this way.
Luke grabbed the display and stared at it. Okay. He could do it. He could talk to the Force.
He hated listening to the Force — nothing good ever came when he did. But he could try for the child. He had seen both the Emperor and Darth Vader do it multiple times. He could as well.
Luke stretched himself out, reaching for … something? He didn’t know what.
Nothing good came from him listening to the Force. Every time he reached out to the Force, he regretted it. He shouldn’t be doing this.
Luke felt so exposed. Anyone could attack him right now.
But this was for the baby. Luke needed to do this.
He reached out further. What was he looking for? Was he supposed to fall into a meditation?
Flailing, Luke stretched just a little further.
And then he hit something. And before Luke could scramble back into the safety of his own mind, he was assailed on all sides.
Blood-curdling, eviscerating power devastated Luke’s mind, disintegrating Luke’s un-erected defenses and crumbling his ability to think.
Luke couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak. He was trapped in Darth Vader’s iron vice.
And on the other end, Vader was a hurricane. Rage, fury, possession. He barreled into Luke’s consciousness, trying to claim him.
To claim him, to own him, to destroy him. Vader wanted Luke. He wanted Luke so much, he would do anything — anything —
Luke wrenched away with a cry, falling back into the real world and onto the ground. And when he blinked back to his surroundings, he saw that everyone in the small canteen was staring at him.
Luke didn’t have time to be embarrassed or terrified. Darth Vader had found him. He was right above them. It would only be minutes before he was here.
Luke shut the baby pod and bolted towards the departures hangar, bolstering his body with power, not caring about the Force now. Vader knew he was here. He had to get the child out, get him away — but where?
Where was the right place? What would do — if only someone would tell him, please —
You cannot run from me.
The pain of Vader’s emotions, jagged and sharp as obsidian, were so vivid, Luke skidded to a stop. The cradle almost collided and fractured Luke’s back, the unsafe speed it’s going.
Eyes welling in pain, both physical and mental now, he scanned the ships. Where? Which one? He had to do it now, before Vader knew where he was and searched the area for why he would be here.
Luke was about to just run to the first one that kept catching his attention — Tatooine. It was foolish, it was stupid, but at least Luke knew the place.
But slavery was abundant there. And Luke had been found there so easily as a child. He couldn’t send the baby there. But where else? Each moment he hesitated was a moment wasted. Luke couldn’t sense the Force now. He was too panicked. Too afraid of it.
Every time Luke touched it, something bad happened.
Every time.
He was a failure. He couldn’t —
There.
It wasn’t actually a voice, or words even. It was just a feeling, tugging at his mind. But it was just as clear as if the word had been said.
Luke snapped at the child. The bassinet was open, and the child was pointing where the tug in his mind had led him to. A solid, but old carrier with what looked like crates of dried fish being loaded on.
Luke frowned.
Arvala-7, said the leaving sign.
Luke wasn’t familiar with the planet, and he had no gut instincts. But he trusted this child so bright and untainted as he was.
Luke practically shoved the pod into the cargo bay, tossing the tracking remote with it, then hid it under nets and tarp. Luke paused before throwing the final one on.
“I have to close you in now, okay?” he said. “And you can’t open this at all — ever. Not unless you feel safe.”
This was insane. If Luke left the child here, anyone would find it and it would be just like before. Luke will have done all this for nothing.
The child would be in the Imperial Palace within the week.
But the child didn’t seem bothered at all. It seemed to understand something important was happening. Its solemn eyes were bright, its tiny head nodding just once.
Luke smiled. “Good bye. Be safe, little one,” he whispered. And then without waiting for a reply, he shut the dome.
Luke ran as far away as he could. Now he used every ounce of the Force he had in him. Luke could feel the Darkness thrumming in his veins, the power of the Dark Side filling him like nothing else could.
It was not pleasant. And it might not be — never be natural. But it knew him and it loved him more than Luke could ever say.
And Luke knew it in return. He would use every bit of the Force he had to get as far away from the child as he could.
Vader was here. He was on the ground. His presence permeated the air like poison.
Luke could see the people around him stiffen, babies begin to cry for no reason they could understand. Children looked over their shoulders for something they didn’t know.
Luke could feel him in every breath he took. Every thought in his mind. Every step his exhausted, un-fed body felt the impact of his feet against the hard ground, thundering with too much force.
VaderVaderVaderVaderVader —
You cannot run from me. You will come back with me. You will suffer for ever thinking of leaving.
Luke knew this. He knew, and yet, he ran. Not even for the child anymore, but for himself.
Luke was an obedient child most of the time. He always listened. He never went against orders. And the times that he lashed out have been growing fewer and fewer with every year.
Because he was scared. Because he knew what happened if he fought.
But today, his body ran anyway. Air sucked into his lungs, clearing it of the black poison that so loved to drown Luke’s thoughts, replacing them with their own.
And when Darth Vader seemed to materialize from the nothingness, the world darkening and shuddering around him like a sickly patient, lifting Luke and squeezed his entire body until Luke could feel things breaking, it was this new crazed freedom that made him fight.
It was just for a moment. A moment of crazed instinct before Luke wrangled it back with every conscious thought still left in his screaming body.
A wave of awesome power ricocheted through the air, crumbling every building within a five hundred foot radius into dust.
The force was so devastating and sudden in its impact that Vader’s entire body clenched. The respirator of his suit stuttered before continuing.
And then the voice in Luke’s head resounded with the promise of death.
You dare to fight against me? Weak, pathetic boy.
Vader did one of his favorite moves. A physical torture that was not commonly known as part of the Sith’s arsenal.
It wasn’t common because whenever Vader did it, the person came out on the other side with their mind in shreds. That meant someone had to be important enough to warrant such agony, but yet be ready to be thrown away right after.
Very few fit that definition.
Few — except for Luke. If only Luke could go insane after it was over.
You have forgotten yourself. The emperor gives you too much leeway. Too much generosity. Too much freedom. I will not do the same. You will know pain, Astrus.
The name was spat out with absolute revulsion. Vader’s hate of Luke had no limits, knew no bounds. If Luke was in Vader’s care for good …
Luke didn’t have time to think anymore after that. Vader squeezed his gloved hand and suddenly, his nerves were on fire.
Every cell in Luke lit up like a bonfire. Hot, bloody tears streaked down Luke’s face and nose as Vader played his body with all the rage and frustration built up inside him.
Disgusting. Vile. Abhorrent.
The words trembled through Luke’s entire body. Luke tried not to faint. If he passed out, Vader would take it as him escaping his punishment, and he would just be awoken and the entire thing would begin again.
His vision swam between blackness and the faded light of the dying blue star hanging in the sky.
In these moments, there was nothing to do but feel the agony. No thoughts, no happy place to go to. If Luke tried, Vader would know. If the emperor hated Luke’s thoughts going anywhere but where he wanted them to go, Vader was even worse. He was even more possessive.
The two of them, always wanting Luke’s everything. And Luke tried to give it to them. He really tried.
Something in his eyes popped and his vision filled with red. Luke didn’t know how long it went. Vader hated making scenes — hard to believe, with his penchant for theatrics. But he hated showing Luke off in public, even more than the emperor did.
But it still felt like forever when his body was slammed back into the floor and Luke felt his collarbone crumple under the weight.
In the red haze of his delirious gaze, the shiny black boots of Vader’s were before him.
Detestable.
Luke felt the hood flip over his face, casting his world into darkness. And then he was being dragged through the sand with the familiar tug of the Force.
Another thing. Vader didn’t like touching him in public. Vader was particular like that.
In private however…
Luke fought unconsciousness when he was folded into the back of the tiny TIE fighter. Of course, Vader had not brought anyone else for this mission.
How had he found him so quickly? How had he gotten here so quickly?
Then Vader strapped himself in the cockpit. The familiar chime of droid and calculation filled the room.
Of course.
Mustafar. It was in the Outer Rim. That was where Vader had come from. That’s where they were going right now.
He had been so much closer than Luke had expected. And Luke’s use of the Force had been a karking beacon straight to him.
It was only when the brightness of the planet below vanished into the blankness of space that Luke let himself go. He sank into the blissful sensation of nothing. And he didn’t let himself think about the child, not for one second. Not ever again.
Luke spent the ship ride back to the Imperial Center with three Force shackles and Vader’s presence bearing over him. Watching, always watching. Even when on the other side of the ship, Luke could feel his presence weighing on him like a hydraulic press atop his body.
Lucidity came and went at delirious times. Three force shackles made Luke physically incapacitated, able to move only through extreme focus. But he had no focus right now. Tremors wracked his body as sweat trickled down his neck.
The silk sheets under him rubbed like rough sandpaper, Vader’s presence flipped carelessly through Luke’s mind like the perusal of a book.
Images, emotions, and sensations barraged his senses, all sent whether willingly or unconsciously by Vader. Sometimes, Luke thought he was some kind of unwitting trash chute for Vader’s discarded or extraneous thoughts. It flowed into him so naturally that it seemed unbidden.
But even with all these sensations, it was nothing compared to what Luke knew Vader wanted to actually do to him. Vader couldn’t — not when the emperor was the one who owned Luke.
So Luke bore Vader’s frustration, his self-restraint, and swam in the haze of their shared mire. What was left of Luke’s Force collided against the typhoon of Vader’s own, the remnants greedily licked up by the Sith Lord. And then Luke was left with nothing but Vader inside him.
The fitful half-conscious state ran for the thirty-six hour journey.
And then they entered Imperial Center airspace. And Luke shot up from the mattress with a scream.
The emperor was here. And he was furious.
Astrus.
The screams must have filled the corridors. Dozens of officers had to have stopped in fear and visceral nausea as the screams continued on and on and didn’t stop. But no one came into Luke’s suite. No one dared to do anything. Even Vader’s presence left Luke, leaving him to the mercy of the emperor.
Luke’s cries didn’t stop until they had landed and the doors to the ship opened.
He was carried out by Vader, blood coating his throat and remnant shocks twitching his fingertips. No one looked at them, everyone focused solely on the floor, their boots, anything. Fear was so thick, Luke could taste the salt and iron in the air.
The emperor’s presence followed them as they drew towards the throne room. Somewhere in the last corridor, Luke thought he had stopped breathing. But then his vision began to darken and he forced himself to suck in a shuddering breath, and everything lightened.
They stopped at that grey slate door.
Enter.
Both Vader and Luke heard it in their minds. The door slid open and in moments, Luke was splayed on the ground, staring at the steps leading to that singular throne.
“Leave us, Lord Vader,” ordered the emperor.
“My lord.” Vader bowed stiffly and disappeared. Even he did not want to be here now. Or maybe he just thought that Luke’s punishment would be more than handled now.
Luke was shaking uncontrollably, and he knew it wasn’t just the cuffs. He was terrified.
This was the worst thing he had done in years. No, maybe ever. Because back then, no one had expected him to be good. But now, Luke almost had a rhythm down, a life, or at least a pitiful mockery of one.
The emperor would think the worse. That Luke had been playing a long game, that he had no loyalty or plan to ever remain in the emperor’s hand. And Luke would have to let him believe it. The other option was too terrifying to imagine.
He would suffer if it meant that child would be safe.
“Astrus. Would you care to explain why you left us?”
Luke flinched visibly, to his own horror. The voice was cold as crystalline fire. The emperor was asking him his opinion? Luke would not be able to lie.
“I — ” He licked his cracked lips, but there was no saliva. No sound had come out the first time he tried to speak either. But he had to, before the emperor lost patience.
Something hot dribbled down Luke’s throat as he forced his vocal chords to move, already crying from the hour of screaming during docking procedures as the ship landed.
“I wanted to leave. I didn’t want to be here anymore.”
The room dropped another ten degrees. Luke started shivering from actual cold now. His breath fogged in front of him.
“And you think that is a choice you can make? Astrus. Your blood already sings with the power of the Dark Side. It calls to you, just as strongly as it does to Vader. Stronger, in fact, if you did not delude yourself to your character.”
Luke was lifted up, dragged towards the emperor until he was only inches away. The cowl of his hood lifted just enough so the yellow irises of the emperor could be seen within.
“And even then, do you think that I would tolerate your betrayal? After all the generosity, the strength, the power, I have given you? The favor that no other has ever received?”
Luke was slammed onto the stairs. He felt every one of the sharp lines bite into his skin.
The emperor rose to his feet. “You will remember who you belong to, Astrus. You belong to me.”
And then Luke was on his back, looking up at the emperor’s eyes.
It was all in slow motion. The emperor’s hand reaching down to him. Luke’s erratic breathing. The fell swoop of resignation and giving up.
The force shackles dropped from his ankle and wrists. The Force surged into Luke, flared brighter than the sun around Luke’s body.
And before Luke could do anything, the emperor unlocked every secret, natural barrier in Luke’s mind. Every quiet little place, every mechanic designed to protect, stripped away like water.
“Reconcile with the power of the Dark Side, Astrus. Remember what it is. Remember who you are.”
And then the Dark Side was there.
Luke was exposed to the empty, vacuous fullness of the Dark Side. Like staring into a black hole, like staring into the void itself. It was horrible and potent. It was ravenous. And it surged in to fill every bit of Luke left.
Hate. Pain. Pleasure. Desire. Want. Wrath. Need. Love.
The power exploded inside Luke as a supernova. And Luke felt the moment his eyes flashed a brighter yellow than the twin suns of his home planet.
He didn’t remember anything after that.
When he came to, Luke didn’t know what day it was.
He was laying in a familiar bed, staring up at the elegant ceiling with a familiar blank gap of memory that Luke had come to think of as his ‘dark time’. Dark for many reasons. Dark because it made Luke want to die, thinking what could have happened during those long stretches.
Dark, as he hated himself of how long those stretches seemed to be sometimes.
“Astrus. Come here,” crooned the emperor.
Luke only let himself take a tiny breath before rising unsteadily. He had been healed some time after his encounter in the throne room.
Luke knelt before the emperor without looking at him. The weight of the emperor’s presence was cloying, but gentle. He was in a good mood.
Luke must have done something truly heinous during this current dark time to earn such buoyancy.
With a tip of a lined finger, Luke’s head lifted to look directly into the emperor’s eyes.
“You are young, so I can forgive your … indiscretion,” said the emperor. The lines on his face were faint, barely visible now. Luke’s stomach twisted into vicious knots. “But any more, and I will have to truly show you the depth of my displeasure.”
“Yes, my lord,” whispered Luke. “I am sorry.”
The emperor patted Luke’s cheek. “Not to worry,” he said, in a way that had Luke twisting. He knew it would not be the end. Not for a long time. The emperor would not forget this betrayal. “Let’s get to bed, shall we?”
It was hours later, Luke exhausted not just physically, but wrung out like a rag in the Force, his power flickering and small like the tiniest flame, when the emperor carded his fingers through his hair.
“Lucas.”
Luke didn’t move, although his heart picked up pace. He knew the emperor could hear it.
“I can hardly imagine that you would create such a foolish, half-baked plan, Lucas. Tell me — were you truly trying to run away?”
The emperor was sifting through his memories. Luke could feel it. Trying to suppress the fear, lest the emperor find out, Luke tried not to think about it.
But how was he supposed to hide it? The emperor knew everything about the Dark Side of the Force. Luke would never be able to hide it with his own powers.
Please. Please, don’t find it. Luke plunged his hand into the metaphorical empty bin of his Force tank, trying to scrounge up a last bit of power not yet taken by the emperor.
The warmth of the child flared brightly at him, brilliantly coming to life under his palm. Luke grabbed it and stuffed it at the cracks of his mind, like putty clay on those memories.
Luke swallowed. “No, my lord. I truly wanted to run away. But I don’t anymore.”
“Is that so?” said the emperor coldly. Luke felt the memories replay of his time on the cargo ship, of landing and wandering. He couldn’t hide where he went, but he could hide his motives and where the child went. He could hide all memories of the child. Then it couldn’t be pinned to him.
Could he? The putty was shining so brightly, with all the beauty the Light side of the Force possessed. How could the emperor not see such an obvious ploy?
But the putty held somehow. The emperor flitted through each memory like he was assessing a piece of produce, before letting go.
If anything, the emperor’s mood grew darker. Had he truly not thought Luke had betrayed him this whole time?
“Do not lie to me, Lucas. You hate me more than you hate anyone else. But that is what I like. That is what will make you strong.” He leaned down, brushing Luke’s ear. “It is only yourself that makes you weak. And in due time, I will make that desire leave you for good.”
Luke waited for days. Then weeks.
His time was as bad as he feared it would be. Luke had not known such suffering since his first year with the emperor. The bruises riddled every part of him, the soft satin and silk designs unable to hide the pain.
But still, Luke waited with bated breath. Days, weeks, months.
And no one. No child came to play with the emperor. No one but Luke alone. And although there could be a thousand reasons why, not first being which the child died in that cargo hold, or that it was stolen and sold in some other terrible place, Luke would never know.
He had done all he could do. All he could hope for was to never see the child again. Even if the thought broke his heart.