Chapter Text
Hit. Slash. Block. Rage coursing through his body. Making his attacks stronger, his senses sharper. His eyes can see the droid’s next movement before its circuits even trigger the sequence to make it occur. Power builds in his leg, his muscles tensing as they store it. Waiting for an opening. In a flash, his body turns and the heel of his boot slams into the side of the droid’s central processing unit. His hand leaves the hilt of his lightsaber and shoves the droid back further. It skips across the training mat like a rock across a lake before slamming into the far wall. His lip curls back in disgust. It hadn’t even been a challenge. Perhaps someone else would see that as an accomplishment, an achievement. That he had outpaced the training droid, had increased his skill and leveled up yet again. Growing ever stronger.
But not to him. It’s never enough. He can never have too much power, too much strength. The ravenous hunger for more is a bottomless pit, motivated by both a desire to protect himself and for his own selfish wishes. Control is the only currency that matters in this galaxy. Control of oneself, control of others, control of one’s path, control of the Force.
The droid’s chest collapses in on itself, metal crunching and sparks shooting into the air as the system sputters into silence and then death. Or whatever the equivalent to death that droids experience is. He looks at it with apathetic disgust, fist falling lax as his grip on the Force eases.
To the left, a door opens with a smooth slide. Yellow eyes are already directed towards it, having sensed the other’s approach a while ago. It had been a passing flutter in the back of his mind with his focus fixed on beating the droid, but still noted. As always, the mechanical clicking and releasing of the breathing apparatus enters the room before the man it is fixed to.
“Son,” the deep voice greets him as Darth Vader enters the room.
Luke shifts his weight absently, falling out of what remained of his fighting posture and returning to a more relaxed, neutral stance. “Father. I hadn’t expected you back so soon.” He clips his saber to his belt, ignoring the water and small towel set to the side. He hadn’t worked up a sweat so neither are needed.
“Yes,” Vader agrees, “Affairs were settled faster than anticipated. You are well?”
His head tilts slightly, a silent confirmation.
“Come,” he requests, “I have something for you.”
Luke’s hand calls his uniform top back to him. The stiff fabric and crisp white coloring of it are unwelcome and uncomfortable, but not even Luke can always get his way. Walking around in only his undershirt wouldn’t be acceptable behavior. Once he is presentable again, he moves towards his father who is waiting patiently at the door. As they walk, it is not hard to map out the path they are on. Luke happily welcomes the destination. His skin has been itching ever since his feet returned to this putrid, perfumed cesspool.
“Now that you’ve returned, will we be leaving soon?” he asks, mindful of keeping his voice low and tone neutral.
“Yes,” Vader replies. He is silent beyond the usual hissing of his respirator as they pass a nameless officer who cowers away from the pair as their paths cross. Only after some distance has built between the differing parties does he continue, “Today, if that is what you prefer.”
“Yes.” Luke’s lip curls in disgust as he can’t help but add, “I hate it here.”
“The crown jewel of the Empire is not to your liking?” It is not easy for his father to add inflection to his words, but Luke can sense his amusement and teasing mood. It clears his poor mood away as quickly as it had appeared.
“‘Jewel’,” he scoffs at the word, still irritated by the topic but feeling more playful now, “I can handle the politicians or the officers, but not at the same time. For being one big city, Coruscant is a swamp.”
Vader makes a clicky, choked sound. It is a poor approximation of laughter but it’s about as close as he can get to the true sound. His amusement is still present regardless of whatever unsettling noise he makes, which is all that really matters.
“I take it we are returning to the latter?”
“The Emperor has requested that we visit the station,” Vader supplies.
Luke sneers. He can feel his patience already being tested by a man that is still half a galaxy away from him, “Krennic.”
Perhaps it’s traitorous to think it, but he hopes Yularen or someone else in the ISB uncovers Krennic as a spy or saboteur of some sort so the pathetic excuse for a man will finally be gone from his life.
They exit the building and Luke’s eyes easily spot the shuttle awaiting them. His mood improves drastically at the sight of his salvation, the thing that will take him away from this pathetic rock and its pathetic inhabitants.
By the ramp, a person is standing expectantly. They aren’t moving or performing any sort of task, so it’s clear they are anticipating him and his father. Luke’s lips purse slightly in displeasure, annoyed that their departure may be delayed by some sniveling simpleton trying to pay respects or bother his father with some mundane issue. He glances at the man out of the corner of his eye and his gaze remains forward in return. He doesn’t think his father is capable of peripheral vision, so he might not have noticed that Luke is looking towards him. Regardless, Vader seems unbothered by the other’s presence. There is no flicker of annoyance or surprise, which tells Luke he knew the person would be there.
He returns his gaze to the girl at the bottom of the ramp, feeling mildly curious now.
She’s beautiful, whoever she is. Luke doesn’t often think that about girls. Not that he sees a lot of girls, since the Empire doesn’t have much female personnel. But when he’s on Coruscant or some other planet, he gets his fill. And Luke is well past the age of thinking girls are scary or anything as juvenile as that, especially because he isn’t afraid of anything, so when he sees girls, he looks.
And this girl is definitely one of the more beautiful ones he’s ever seen.
She wears a black dress that is largely basic with only a few embellishing elements, a stark contrast to the style typically worn by Coruscati elite, yet is still expensive-looking despite its plainness. Her arms are bare and Luke thinks absently that she is probably cold given the cool climate even though she isn’t shivering. She isn’t doing much beyond standing there and watching Luke and his father approach. Actually…now that he looks closer, he can see that her hands aren’t folded demurely and motionless in front of her like he had first thought. Her fingers fidget with a ring that doesn't quite fit. A subtle hint to the nerves that she is otherwise concealing. And his experienced eye, after so many years spent on Coruscant, tells Luke that her dress is the correct size but not tailored to her body. There is an air of rushed-ness to her. She is dressed to fit Coruscant but only in approximations and without any personalization. She would be looked over in a crowd and easily forgotten after disappearing from view. Not exactly in-line with Coruscanti ideology.
Her eyes flicker to the side and Luke wonders if she is looking for someone who could help her or offer some degree of comfort. Best of luck with that. Despite a population of a billion or so, there isn’t a kind soul to be found on this planet. No one would help her. And certainly not when it would mean standing between her and Darth Vader. There are no brave souls to be found here either.
“What is this?” Luke asks his father, unsure of why she’s here. He’s been given sparring partners and tutors and other people specialized in some field that Vader had felt that he needed in the past, but they’ve never been presented to him with such gravitas. What’s so special about this girl that such a grand introduction must occur?
“She’s to be yours.”
Luke looks at Vader in surprise, not understanding. “Like a slave?” Even as he asks the question, he knows that isn’t what this is. His father has always been very clear on his stance on slavery. But what else is he supposed to call this girl that’s ‘his’?
“No,” Vader says sharply, tone frigid.
Luke doesn’t speak, jaw clenching as he ducks his head slightly. He doesn’t fear his father’s temper, he knows it would never be directed at him, he just doesn’t like disappointing him. He feels like a failure for not understanding him right away and for implying that he would ever dabble in anything close to the disgusting practice.
“She’s to be your partner and confidant. You need someone by your side that you can trust.”
“I have you,” Luke counters.
“Not always, my son.”
Luke’s widened eyes snap to his father’s face, shocked that he would reveal their secret to a complete stranger. Only they and the Emperor know of the familial connection between him and Vader. His father had always emphasized the importance of keeping it a secret. It would only be used against them if someone were to learn the truth. And yet he freely offers it to this random girl. “You-”
“She is yours, Luke. She has no family, no status, no connection, no loyalty to anyone but you. Who better than to share everything with? I will not always be by your side, but she will be. It is important to me that you are never alone.”
He knows what his father means by that. By the very nature of their connection, Luke is destined to far outlive Vader. His father will die one day and Luke will be left on his own after that. He has no other family, no other person who understands what it means to use the Force, no one to trust with his thoughts, no one who he can let his guard down with. He will be a cornered animal with nowhere to turn, having to watch his own back and never free to take a moment and breathe. He will be targeted by those that think his new vulnerability can be seized upon, attacked by enemies kept at bay by his father’s reputation and looming shadow. He will be eaten alive if he can’t be the strongest, the quickest, the best.
Luke’s gaze returns to the girl who watches the interaction with a plain expression. He suddenly feels self conscious. Not because of her gaze, but because the magnitude of this situation is suddenly hitting him. He had been too busy trying to make sense of it rather than actually thinking about what it meant. He can’t help but feel at a loss. Based on what his father is saying, the girl would one day be his bride. Or at least an equivalent of that in terms of the closeness and longevity of their relationship. But that leaves more questions than it does answers. He will be responsible for an entire human being. Her life will be his to dictate. That is quite a task to take on. “What do I do with her?”
“Whatever you desire.”
His eyebrows rise slightly, “And if I don’t want her?”
Vader gestures towards the shuttle, “She’ll be returned to her home and you’ll never see her again.”
Luke steps forward and takes the girl by her chin, touch controlling but gentle. Her skin is warm and smooth under his fingers. He wordlessly tilts her head this way and that, admiring the different angles of her face it affords him. She watches him examine her and offers no resistance to the manhandling.
“Her name-”
“She has a voice, doesn’t she?” Luke asks sharply, cutting off his father. His hand tightens its hold as he directs his next question to her, “You can speak? I don’t want a simpleton at my side.”
“I can speak, my lord,” the girl answers, voice light in pitch and cadence in a way that is both incredibly different from his or his father’s and pleasant to the ear.
“What’s your name?”
“(Y/N) (L/N).”
(Y/N).
Luke releases her, hand lowering back to his side, “Turn.”
She turns slowly, understanding the purpose behind the request without him needing to say it. Good. It’s the first sign she’s given that she isn’t a complete buffoon. Until now she’s just been standing there like a fool or a mute as Luke and Vader have discussed her, barely offering even a change in expression to show a thought was occurring behind her pretty features.
And she is quite lovely to look at. Good posture, a natural gracefulness to her movements. If this girl were to be at Luke’s side everyday, he would enjoy seeing her there, that is for certain.
She faces him again, features still set in a neutral expression as she seemingly awaits his next instruction.
Vader stands by his side, offering nothing as this ritual of sorts is carried out. It’s clear that the decision is Luke’s and Luke’s alone. He knows his father’s preference, the girl is here by his doing after all, but he will defer to Luke’s wishes.
As he continues to examine (Y/N), something else about her catches his attention.
Not many people look at him. Not in the eyes, at least. They're too afraid to do so and so they cheat and look somewhere else on his face and act like that is the same thing. The ones that manage to meet his gaze are never able to hold it for long. And there are any number of reasons for that: his lightsaber, his place at the side of the right hand of the Emperor, his expression that has been trained to rival his father’s sinister mask. To name a few.
There are a few who are unafraid. The Emperor, for one, always looks at Luke like he is nothing more than a child at play. And perhaps he is to some degree as he has been given no name or position and so is not an actual Sith. His father, for he has nothing to fear from Luke just as Luke has nothing to fear from him. A few of the bolder, senior members of the Empire. Tarkin, who had more than his fair share of the Jedi during the time of the Republic and is thoroughly unimpressed by the Force as a result. Yularen, whose sole focus is finding traitors to the Empire so he knows he is not the one in danger when he speaks to Luke or Vader.
But this girl. This girl with no connection or status or protection that stands before him now…she has no seniority or experience or right or reason to be able to meet his gaze. Especially not after the conversation that was just held about her fate, a conversation that had not involved her at all. Held as if she wasn’t even there. She knows her life and its trajectory rest solely in his hands. And yet (Y/N) doesn’t just meet his gaze in a fleeting glance, she holds it. She looks right back at his yellow eyes, unwavering. It sparks his interest. More than her looks, more than her nice voice. There’s something more to her. Luke has seen countless people cower before him. She should be cowering too. She should just be another member of the uninteresting, unimportant populace. But she isn’t.
And she is his. That’s what his father said. His. His and his alone. Not something of his father’s that had been lent to him. Not something provided by the Empire. Not something that can be taken back. There is no taking back. She belongs to him. Her and her pretty eyes that don’t flicker away anxiously even when he can feel that very emotion radiating off of her.
Luke feels something surge to life inside of himself. If he was a bird, his pupils would be pinning right now. What a thing to have as his own. His intrigue is piqued further by her as his mind races with thoughts of a future with her. Of what having her by his side could entail. How interesting it would be to peel back her calm mask and peek past her pretty features and see what exists inside of her that makes her so brave. A possessive sort of heat is gathering in his chest and a smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth as he says, “Alright. I’ll keep her.”
He finally looks away from (Y/N) for the first time in a while to ask his father, “Is that all? Can we leave?”
“Yes,” Vader answers. He then addresses (Y/N) for the first time, “You are to go inside. Your needs will be taken care of and I have arranged for a protocol droid to continue your education. You will remain here until we return-”
“No,” Luke says sharply, hackles rising at the picture his father paints. Of them being separated, of his new prize being left on her own. “(Y/N)’s coming with us. If she’s mine, I’m not leaving her here. Where I go, she goes.”
Vader isn’t capable of much visible reaction, but Luke knows him well enough to see the shift in his weight as what it is. “If that is what you want,” his father says and, yes, he does sound rather pleased.
“I will not leave her to the care of others,” Luke declares, “Especially not here.”
“Very well, my son. Shall we go?”
Luke nods.
Conversation finished, and never a man of many words, Vader proceeds with marching past (Y/N) and boarding the shuttle unceremoniously. She quickly turns to follow his lead and Luke’s hand is flying out to snatch her arm without conscious thought. (Y/N) jumps in surprise, head whipping back around to look at him. Her eyes have widened in fright, having not expected the touch much less the suddenness and harshness of it.
Luke feels a spark of satisfaction in his gut over finally managing to get a reaction from the girl. He brushes it aside, not wanting to forget his real reason for grabbing her. He asks, almost demands of her, “Do you understand? Where I go, you go.”
“Yes, my lord,” (Y/N) nods as she says quietly, “I understand.”
“Trust no one but myself and my father,” he says gravely, willing her to grasp the weight of his words. “I don’t know what my father means by your continued education, but this is perhaps the most important lesson you will ever learn. Understand?”
“Yes.”
“All of our lives may depend on it,” he presses, just barely resisting the urge to tighten his grip and scare comprehension into her.
“I understand, my lord,” (Y/N) tells him. There is a solemness in her eyes that says she is telling the truth. That she understands her life may be forfeit if she doesn’t heed his warning. Whether it will be by his hand or another is irrelevant, she knows that it would be a fatal mistake regardless of who acts on it.
“Good,” Luke says with a nod and finally releases her. He allows his thoughts to linger on the warmth from her arm that had transferred into his palm for a moment before instructing, “Get onboard.”