Black-gloved hands worked over the familiar controls of the TIE fighter automatically. He paid no attention to the chatter over the radio, the ceaseless voices of the troops that razed the once-verdant planet that fell away from his viewport.

Outside the edges of his own mind, he could feel the boy's childish terror and anger. He knew without looking the boy lay where he had been chained, his dark eyes trained fearfully on the still figure who guided the ship. Beneath the mask, his expression twisted into a sneer of contempt. Powerful though the boy was, he was afraid and alone, untrained and raw. He would be easily manipulated.

He knew it would only be a matter of time before he would use his latest weapon to finally overthrow his hated Master, the Emperor. The boy would need to grow into his strength, but he had learned nothing if not patience through years of servitude.

The fact remained that he would have his revenge. The boy was the instrument of the Emperor's destruction. The thought cheered him, and under his mask, Darth Vader smiled.

"Wake up."

The voice that spoke to him sent chills down his spine. It was the same one that haunted his nightmares, where over and over he saw his father's last desperate struggle, heard him cry for the boy to run. Then there was the horrible wrenching sense of loss as his father's Force signature faded.

His eyes opened, and he shrank back immediately from the dark figure who regarded him. He had been hauled aboard the dark one's TIE fighter, chained tightly behind the pilot's chair. He had waited hours in the darkness as the TIE had landed in what he thought might be a ship. He had tried to break the chains, but his fear crippled his ability to access the Force…he could not still his mind as his father had taught him to access the power he knew was there.

His frustration bubbled over, and he had cried, tugging uselessly on the chains. When he had fallen asleep, he was not sure, but now he shrank back as the dark figure responsible for killing his father and taking him from the only home he'd ever known loomed over him. The dark figure bade for him to stand, and he did so, not knowing what else to do. The chains unlatched from the chair, floating into the dark one's hands. He tugged on them impatiently, pulling the boy after him like a dog on a leash.

He was forced to run to keep up with the dark one's strides, and they turned many corridors, too many for the boy to count, before he was hauled into a darkened area of the ship. The dark one waved a hand, and a heavy door opened, darkness yawning within it. The stench of ozone and metal assaulted the boy, and he could taste the tang of the metal on his tongue. It was cold, as cold as space, and the boy's breath steamed in the thin air. The cold burned his lungs, and he took sharp, shallow breaths. It was nothing like the smells of the forest he remembered, the comfortable smell of the wood that used to burn in the fireplace at home. He remembered the warmth of the fire longingly, shivering.

The dark one jerked on the chain roughly, almost pulling the boy from his feet. "If I must remind you to move again, you will regret it," the dark one snapped. The boy swallowed, hurrying along behind the dark one's long strides once more as he was pulled further into the dark area of the ship that he realized was under construction. The boy's legs trembled with fatigue as they reached a remote area of the ship. The sounds of construction went on around them, though this area of the ship appeared to have been completed at some point in the past. They hurried through a small hangar and through a final door.

The door slid shut behind them with a solid boom, and the boy felt trapped. They stood in a large circular room. Two doors led from it, the one they had entered from and another in the rear. The dark one pulled the boy to the center of the room. The boy stared up at the black mask the dark one wore, seeing his own terrified face reflected in it. "You will remain here. Should you try to escape, you will be severely punished. Do you understand?"

The boy swallowed, his throat closing with a terrified sob. He felt anger from the dark one when he did not answer. He screamed as an invisible hand knocked him to the floor, cracking his head painfully against the metal decking. He felt warm blood trickle down his face. "You will answer the instant I order anything of you!" The dark one snapped. "You will answer me as 'Master.'" The boy curled into a terrified ball, and he cried out as he was raised from the floor and slammed back down with a jarring crunch that knocked the wind from him. "Answer me!" the dark one roared.

The boy mouthed the words, and the dark one leaned closer. "Louder!" he snarled, and the boy managed to whisper. "Y-Yes…Master." The dark one loomed over him for a moment then withdrew. He stepped back from the boy, and gestured once. The boy's chains fell to the floor. "These rooms are yours. You will train here. Should you complete the training, power will be yours beyond your imagining. Should you fail, you will die." The boy remained silent, standing in the center of the room, his head bowed, tears streaming down his face.

"I want to go home…" he sobbed, and the dark one raised a clenched fist. The boy slammed against a wall and lay there, stunned. "You will not speak unless ordered," the dark one snarled. "You will never voice your opinion, desires or wants to me again. You are a slave, and nothing more. Should you forget that, I will not hesitate to kill you." Still stunned from the blow, the boy whispered, "Yes, Master." The dark one turned, striding out of the room. The boy curled into a miserable ball near the wall, too terrified to move. He must have slept then, but he couldn't be sure.

The boy was not aware of how much time had passed before the door slid open once more. A strange, skinny droid entered the room, carrying a tray of food. His glowing photoreceptors took in the huddled form of the boy who lay where Lord Vader had left him. "Good morning, young Master!" he said, cheerfully. The boy stared at him, his dark eyes reddened and puffy from crying. Dried blood crusted a cut on his scalp.

"Who?" the boy ventured after a moment, glancing around for the dark one.

The skinny droid ambled over to the boy, who cowered against the wall. "I am Hologram Training Droid PRX-10 – Lord Vader sent me to aid in your training, young Master." The boy stared at him, then whispered, "Lord Vader?" The droid nodded. "Lord Vader is your Master. He is the one who brought you here." The boy stood up slowly still dizzy from the beating he'd received as the droid offered him a metal hand. "It is time for your morning meal, young Master."

He set down the tray in front of the boy, who eyed it. It was nothing like the food he remembered having at home…he remembered the sweet orange fruit his father used to bring him from the groves and the smell of stew bubbling from the pot over the fire. His stomach growled, and the plain bowl of grey mush and bottle of water did not look at all appetizing. Still, he was hungry, so he picked up the utensil, taking an experimental bite of the food. He grimaced. It tasted terrible, but he forced himself to eat it anyway.

The droid watched him eat and drain the bottle of water, and the boy found the glow of droid's photoreceptors unnerving…in the gloom they reminded him of the eyes of the demons in the Shadowlands his father used to tell him stories about. "Very good Master!" the droid praised, as he finished the last of the gruel. "Now it is time to begin your training."

Without warning, the droid lunged for him, his hands claw-like. The boy screamed, instinctively pushing the droid away from him. The Force responded to his need, and the droid flew across the room, hitting the wall hard. The boy stared in horror at the droid, and then at his own hands. The droid got to its feet, and the boy cowered against the wall. "Stay…stay away from me!" he cried, but the skinny droid ignored him.

There was a flash, and suddenly he was staring at a man wielding a red blade of glowing light. He recognized a lightsaber, his father had never let him play with the hilt, but he had explained patiently how it worked. The boy hadn't understood most of his explanation, fascinated more with the blue crystal that lay at the heart of the hilt. He screamed as the man leapt at him, the lightsaber raised. He had no weapon to defend himself. He dodged the swing narrowly, feeling the blade burn his clothes.

"Stop!" he cried. "Why are you doing this?" he demanded, but the man did not answer, instead swinging the lightsaber at his head. Instinctively, he called on the Force, raising his hand, and the lightsaber was wrenched from the man's grip, much as he had done to the dark one in his father's hut. He cowered, holding the lightsaber out in front of him as the man lunged, squeezing his eyes shut. He heard a strange noise, and weight settled onto the lightsaber he held.

He opened his eyes, and the man was impaled on the weapon, his blue eyes wide in pain. The boy stared in horror as the man shimmered, disappearing. The droid stumbled back off of the lightsaber, his chestplate smoking. "Very good, young Master!" the droid praised. "I thought for sure I would kill you, taking you by surprise. It seems I was wrong."

The boy stared at the droid, his gaze distrusting, the lightsaber now firmly in his grip. "You…you stay away from me!" he cried, brandishing the lightsaber inexpertly. The droid hung his head. "I am sorry if I offended you, Master…I was merely trying to fulfill my primary programming." The boy edged along the wall away from the droid. "What programming?" he demanded.

"Why, to kill you of course, young Master."

The days went by – a seemingly endless monotony, and at first he fought the dominion of the dark one.

Each refusal to obey - no matter how minor - resulted in hours of punishment, but worse for the boy were the scoldings the droid he had nicknamed PROXY would give him as he bandaged the boy's wounds afterwards.

On one such occasion, his guard had been down, allowing his Master to score his shoulder with the tip of his lightsaber. He had cried out in pain, almost dropping his own weapon, and his Master had Force-pushed him across the room. His body had slammed into the wall with bone-cracking force, and his Master's contempt had twisted inside him before he had blacked out.

When he had woken hours later, PROXY leaned over him in his bunk. "Master…" the droid chided. "I warned you the last time we fought about keeping your guard up. You nearly lost your arm, and you are not as easily repaired as I am."

The boy had winced as PROXY laid a cold cloth soaked in bacta over the lightsaber burn on his shoulder. It would scar, he knew. PROXY clucked at him as he winced again. "You must hold still Master, or the bacta will not be as effective…should that wound form too much scar tissue, it will hamper movement when it heals."

The boy had forced himself to sit still despite the searing pain and the sickly sweet smell of the bacta and his own burnt flesh. He sighed as PROXY finished binding the bandage to his shoulder, flexing against it experimentally. It was good and tight, the bacta providing welcome relief from the pain of the burn as it settled into the wound. PROXY eyed him critically, tilting his head. "I suppose that will do, Master…" he said. The droid stood up, gathering up the medkit supplies, placing them back on the shelf in his sparse quarters.

"You should rest now, Master."

He had turned and left the room, and the door closed, locking behind him.

The boy sighed, pushing away the humiliation that rose with the memory, feeling the hated tears trickle down his cheeks. The weeks since the dark one had taken him blurred together, and he now no longer knew what day it was, what month. He had no way of telling night from day, sleeping when he was locked in his quarters, waking when PROXY turned on the lights or when he heard the familiar snap-hiss of a lightsaber that meant PROXY was trying to kill him again. He shuddered when he remembered the only time Vader had woken him from oversleeping.

He had been lifted in a Force-choke and slammed against a wall. On pure instinct he had writhed out of the grip, letting his sudden terror and anger fuel his flight. He had struck out at his Master out of anger – silently elated he had escaped his Master's grip. His Master had responded to his insolence by beating him senseless. When he woke up some hours later in a dried puddle of his own blood on the training room floor, his Master had loomed over him and said, "If you are ever in any position but kneeling when I enter this room again, I will kill you."

He lay on his hard bunk, feeling emotions roil through him. He hated the dark one, his Master. He had taken the only life he had ever known from him - and there was no one else who even knew of his existence. The boy could barely remember his mother, a faint memory of a soft touch, the smell of baked bread from her robes, mixed with the scent of earth. He did remember, in sharp relief, the feelings of unassailable grief and despair that he had felt from his father for a long time afterward.

Eventually, his memories faded to dreams and he slept.

Every day that passed for the boy in the darkness was another memory that faded. He had ceased dreaming of his parents…instead, he dreamed of the power his Master promised – and the freedom that would be his when the Emperor was finally dead. Silently, he clenched a fist. If he had nothing but his Master and his training, then he would do as his Master wished and become the best, most powerful Force-wielder ever…surely any life, even one as unpredictable and pain-filled as his – was preferable to death and its mysteries.

Feeling more focused than he had since he had been taken, he slid off the bunk, ignoring the pain that burned in his shoulder. His fingers flicked the blood-red blade he had won in his first battle to life, and he stared into light, letting all his anger, hate and sorrow pour through him. The Dark Side rose within him, flowing like a bloody tide. Somewhere, he thought he heard laughter.

"Very good, my apprentice."

A/N: Title stays, lyrics go due to the fact I've decided to continue this and see where it leads.