(This is my first Star Wars piece so I hope you enjoy)
The air was a bitter dry cold. Not bone chilling, just the right temperature that the troopers and imperial workers were comfortable, which left Luke freezing. He missed the duel suns of Tatooine. He missed the subtle shift of sand beneith his feet, the warmth of the heat reflecting off the ground. Imperial cruisers were so sterile, so immovable, so solid and cold.
He had gotten used to it over the years. He was about ten when Darth Vader came to his home. When those storm trooper held uncle Owen and Aunt Beru back as he dragged him away. He had been so scared, scared of what the imperials wanted with him, what they did to his family. Even when Darth Vader explained who he was. His father. And what he was. One with the force.
He cried for weeks, begged to go back, tugged at that damnable black cape and sobbed. But a gentle gloved hand on his head and a rasp through a mask, saying "it will get better, my son" was all he got.
For his credit, Vader was kind to Luke. Gave him whatever he wanted so long as Luke asked kindly. He thought him about the force, showed him holovids of him when he was young, of his mother. Of the two together. It was comfortable. And he was almost happy.
But Luke had passed puberty with surprising ease. And after his body went though that, he wanted something more. He wanted someone to hold at night, someone to be with, to talk to and to take care of and have take care of him.
And then Vader realized what was going on. And being the overprotective, attempt at a father figure he was, he decided to do something about it.
(Fill) smuggle my heat (Han/Luke)
The air was a bitter dry cold. Not bone chilling, just the right temperature that the troopers and imperial workers were comfortable, which left Luke freezing. He missed the duel suns of Tatooine. He missed the subtle shift of sand beneith his feet, the warmth of the heat reflecting off the ground. Imperial cruisers were so sterile, so immovable, so solid and cold.
He had gotten used to it over the years. He was about ten when Darth Vader came to his home. When those storm trooper held uncle Owen and Aunt Beru back as he dragged him away. He had been so scared, scared of what the imperials wanted with him, what they did to his family. Even when Darth Vader explained who he was. His father. And what he was. One with the force.
He cried for weeks, begged to go back, tugged at that damnable black cape and sobbed. But a gentle gloved hand on his head and a rasp through a mask, saying "it will get better, my son" was all he got.
For his credit, Vader was kind to Luke. Gave him whatever he wanted so long as Luke asked kindly. He thought him about the force, showed him holovids of him when he was young, of his mother. Of the two together. It was comfortable. And he was almost happy.
But Luke had passed puberty with surprising ease. And after his body went though that, he wanted something more. He wanted someone to hold at night, someone to be with, to talk to and to take care of and have take care of him.
And then Vader realized what was going on. And being the overprotective, attempt at a father figure he was, he decided to do something about it.