Star Wars belongs to Lucasfilm Ltd., itself property of The Walt Disney Company. I make no lucrative nor commercial use of my writings in relationship with the Star Wars license.

This is something I've had in the back of my head for a very long time. Basically, I discovered Shakespeare's Hamlet quite recently, only a few months ago, and immediately my Star Wars obsessed brain, helped by certain pictures of a black-clad Mark Hamill holding a skull in his hand, wondered what it would become in the galaxy far far away. Along the way it changed, because I'm more focused on keeping it coherent with the Star Wars universe than sticking to the play, but that's where the story originated from and hopefully it will stay recognisable. It won't be very long, just five chapters, like the acts of the play. It will also be updated very sporadically, considering both that real life never lets up and that my other projects, primarily Black Squadron, are still being updated in priority. This is only a little side thing.

Please note that this has heavy warnings for violence, depression in general and suicidal thoughts especially. And if other warnings spring to your mind reading Hamlet, they certainly apply, too. This is going to be quite a dark fic. Still, I hope you enjoy reading it.

Hanging upside down from a narrow piece of metal. Wind whipping around him, wrist burning, muscles aching. He couldn't breathe.

"Leia..."

He groaned, shut his eyes tight, trying to forget, to escape from the worst pain of it all. I am your father. He could no longer even feel the fingers of his left hand, so tightened were they around the weather vane keeping him from plunging towards the planet.

"Leia... hear me..."

He was petrified, the smell of blood in his mouth, the taste of death in his heart. Black spots were dancing in front of his eyes, drowning the colours of the clouds in a swarm of flies, building up the pressure in his head. He was shaking, feeling weak, feeling cold, feeling dirty. Oh, to lose consciousness, to fall into these depths and their oblivion, swallowed by the coloured gases below...

"Please..."

My son.

He shivered as the voice touched his mind, his heartbeat racing in his temples, a trembling and panicked breath leaving his bruised lips. No... no... He fought against his numbed body, trying to open his frozen hand, to unlock his heavy knees. Death would be better, infinitely better than his fate if Vader reached him.

A shadow came under him, and he swallowed, salt on his tongue. He could feel darkness closing on him, wrapping itself around him like a cloak, like a shroud, beckoning and reassuring. Terror clogged up in his throat, senseless prayers flying on his breath.

Ben, why didn't you tell me?

His hand opened, and he plummeted down, down, endlessly down, falling unconscious into the arms of the black shape waiting for him.

.

He woke up with difficulty, in a daze. His head was throbbing, and all his muscles felt heavy and weak. He tried to open his eyes, but the bright light in the room hurt too much, and he closed them again quickly. Where was he, what had happened to him? He prodded his memories, trying to recall.

Suddenly it all came back to him, and he gasped, overwhelmed by the onslaught. Bespin. Vader. Leia... He tried to sit up and find answers, but his body was still too weak and he fell back, panting. He focused on his breath, trying to slow down the rhythm of his heart, to calm the incoherent mess that were his thoughts.

He must be in a medbay. His surroundings smelled of bacta, and he was lying on something comfortable, like a mattress. His head was resting on a cushion, and the familiar buzzing of medical machines and droids rang to his ears.

That had to mean he was with the Rebellion, healing. He had managed to escape. The reassuring conclusion allowed him to finally relax. For a moment, he had thought he was still there, at Vader's mercy... He shivered, remembering the smoke, the coldness of the freezing facility, the sweat and strain of the duel, the dangerous heat of their lightsabres clashing.

Vader outmatching him, toying with him. Vader's red blade on his throat, taunting him with Obi-Wan's demise. Vader cutting through his wrist... telling him – telling him...

Luke shied away from the memory with a shuddering breath. It was a lie, it must have been. His enemy was so much stronger than he was; he must have manipulated the Force to throw him in confusion.

Now was not the time to think about that. He was safe, he was back with his friends, he was healing. He could deal with all of that when he was ready.

More serenely this time, Luke tried to open his eyes again. Leia must be nearby... he wanted to see her, ask her for news, know how she was coping. He owed her a lot, if like he thought she had heard him and rescued him from his desperate position under the city in the clouds. His tired pupils slowly found their focus, confirming his suspicions – this was indeed clearly a medbay, although he didn't recognise it as the Redemption.

Only then did he register the terrifying mechanical sound resonating in the room, which sent all his senses flaring in alarm. Looming sinister on the left side of his bed, a few feet further, stood Vader.

Luke rejected his covers as quickly as he could and struggled to scramble out of bed, his movement made clumsy and slow by whatever drug they had injected him with. His right forearm was bound to some kind of device, and he pulled on it hard, desperate to break free.

"Restrain him," Vader ordered, his cold and vicious voice sending chills through Luke's spine.

Immediately hands roughly held him down, and he fought back with a hoarse cry as the troopers that had stepped from behind him pushed him back into the bed. His thoughts were buzzing, incredulous, stunned.

His bound arm ended with a hand.

The instant of distraction allowed the troopers to successfully force him into a reclining position, but he was too confused to mind. Had things not happened the way he recalled them? Had he only dreamt the searing pain bolting through his wrist, the shock at seeing the burnt stump at the end of his arm, the panic as he found himself disarmed in front of his enemy? He had trouble knowing what was real and what was not, terrifyingly precise though the memories were. And if he hadn't lost his hand, then perhaps what had followed hadn't occurred either, perhaps the dreadful revelation, too, was nothing but a fevered mind's nightmare... maybe Vader hadn't – maybe he wasn't –

Another quick glance down to his right hand shattered all his hopes. It was a prosthesis, roughly the length of half his forearm. A section under his wrist was open, leaving wires and circuits clearly visible. He couldn't move it, nor even feel it.

He exhaled and bowed his head in defeat.

"Proceed with the calibration."

The weight of gloved palms on his body preventing him from moving, his guts clenched so hard it was painful, Luke helplessly watched as the medical droid adjusted various controls inside his arm, pricking his fingertips from time to time to test their reaction. His heart was in his throat and drumming madly, his breath reduced to quick and shaky pants as he felt the synthetic nerves gradually tune in with his nervous system. Waves of light pain flared at different intervals as the droid worked, surprising him each time, but he did his best not to flinch. He didn't want to provide Vader with a show of weakness.

Finally, after a last test of his reflexes, the droid announced he had finished working, and freed Luke's arm of its restraints before stepping back. Luke watched him go away, flexing his fingers. The Dark Lord exchanged a few words with the droid, then took a step towards him.

"Leave us," he waved the stormtroopers out of the room.

They obeyed, releasing the pressure on Luke's shoulders, and the youth was left alone with Vader, his guts tied in knots as the cyborg stood inches from his bed. He nervously rubbed his right wrist and sustained Vader's gaze, who was watching him in silence, his hands behind his back. Luke tried to ignore the pain shooting in his hand, the discomfort at having the man who inflicted it so close to him, and did his best not to think about how helpless he was, unable to defend himself against whatever Vader decided to do to him.

His stomach moved uneasily. What was Vader going to do to him? It was a wonder that he had been healed, going so far as being fit with a new hand. Frankly, he was already astonished and unnerved not to have met a Jedi's death at Vader's lightsabre. The extended medical attention didn't seem to point out to interrogation then execution, like he would have expected the Empire to inflict on a Rebel like him. He thought he would have preferred such a fate; somehow, the uncertainty made it harder to stay strong.

He quickly pushed away the memory of Vader's hand outstretched to him as he miserably hung from that gantry, his arm on fire, of his offers of peace and power. He wouldn't fall. He would resist the Dark Lord and his tricks, he would die before he gave in to the dark side.

Finally Vader spoke.

"I see you are healing well."

Suddenly self-conscious, Luke stopped rubbing his arm, and warily kept his eyes on his enemy. He hated the near concern that was present in the words, though not in the vocoder's dull tones. Vader only had to reach out to touch Luke, and the young man had to resist not to show how much he itched to take distance.

"Good," Vader said, as if Luke's silence had been an answer in itself. "You will need all your strength to meet the Emperor. He has been looking forward to seeing you."

A wave of cold fell on Luke, who gritted his teeth. Yoda and Ben had warned him against the man and his powers. They had told him he would want him, and his abilities.

"The feeling isn't mutual," he replied brashly.

"As I would expect. But you will soon change your attitude. He can have very... persuasive means of bringing someone to his point of view."

Luke swallowed, trying not to let his mind run free with the hidden meanings behind Vader's words. Of course, he would know all about the Emperor's methods... It didn't matter. He wouldn't turn.

"Never," he whispered.

For the first time, it dawned on him how hopeless his situation was: trapped, about to be brought to the most powerful of their enemies, in the middle of their capital. He knew better than to hope for a rescue, and the chances of him escaping were slim, even though that wouldn't stop him from trying. Slowly, the realisation set in that this may very well be his end; but that didn't scare him so much as everything that would likely come before.

Perhaps he deserved the torment. He had brought this upon himself. He should have listened to Yoda.

"I can feel your fear," Vader said. "You are repressing it, instead of using it."

Luke breathed in and buried all memories of his teacher away. He wouldn't betray him; he'd already done enough damage.

"If that's how you hope to convert me, that's not gonna work," he replied. He found that meeting Vader's words with defiance helped him keep his courage. It gave him a semblance of control over his fate, for all fickle and unreal that it was. He would need all the bravery and the confidence he could muster to make it through the upcoming ordeal. "I know fear is of the dark side."

He was satisfied to see Vader clench his fists in what he supposed was restrained anger. The temperature in the room dropped a few degrees.

"All you know is the weak and narrow-minded view of the Jedi," he snapped. "Obi-Wan has taken you from me, and filled your head with lies and misconceptions. If only you would embrace your true potential..."

"I'd trust him any day over your twisted vision of the Force and the galaxy." Luke purposefully ignored the comment about Obi-Wan taking him away. He couldn't think about that. "Neither you or your Emperor will change my mind. You'll have to kill me before I ever turn."

They stared at each other in silence. Luke could feel Vader's displeasure in the Force, smothering the room's atmosphere.

"So eager to die for your misguided ideals." Vader's words were slow, every sound dripping with disdain. Luke sustained his gaze for a few more seconds, then the man spoke again, his voice softer, changing tactics. "Luke. You have no idea what the Emperor is capable of. He will break you in every possible way if you do not submit."

"I'm sure you'll be thrilled to watch." The words escaped Luke before he could hold them back, full of bitterness. The nerve of him, to feign concern after everything he'd done to him – after – He took a deep breath, unwilling to go there. He had to be strong. Vader was his enemy, nothing else. He had lied to him to unsettle him. He couldn't let it get at him.

To both his relief and dismay, Vader did not seem to react to his provocation. "No. There is another solution, even if you still refuse to acknowledge it. The offer I made you on Bespin still stands. If you join me... we could destroy him, free the galaxy from his rule forever. Isn't that what you are fighting for?"

"I'm fighting to free the galaxy from the Empire," Luke burst out, appalled. "Not to become a part of it, not to throw it in even more darkness!"

"You do not know what you are talking about. The galaxy needs a firm hand to guide it. And with you at its head, my son –"

"Don't call me that! You have no right to call me that!" Luke shouted. He had known it was coming, but that didn't make it easier to hear. He closed his eyes, his heart drumming too fast against his ribs as he tried and failed not to think about it. It wasn't true, it wasn't true, it was just a trick, it wasn't true... His father was Anakin Skywalker, a good Jedi, a great pilot. Not this monster. It wasn't true...

"I have every right," Vader said, and suddenly his voice was made of ice, cold and dangerous and seeping into Luke's veins, as if liquid fury had replaced the blood there. "You are my son."

He made to grasp Luke's shoulder, but the young man bolted out of bed, desperately needing distance. Vader followed him, the bed standing in his way earning Luke a few seconds of respite before he was stuck against the wall. The Dark Lord didn't stop until he was standing right in front of him, towering over him and casting him in his shadow. He extended a hand towards his face, and Luke flinched, raising his arms in an attempt to protect himself.

"Don't touch me!"

As only answer to his demand, Vader seized his chin and forced him to look up. Luke's eyes widened, and he tried to repress the panic that was threatening to overwhelm him at having him in such proximity, the fresh memories of a sabre under his throat as he lay unable to defend himself far too present on his mind. His legs were trembling from rising too quickly in his weak state, and he had to lean heavily against the wall. His vision was covered in black spots, his breaths coming in quick gasps.

"You are my son," Vader growled. "It is the truth. Nothing you can do will change it." Luke felt as if a blanket of possessive rage had wrapped itself around his shoulders, smothering him, sending his heart into even more of a frenzy. It was a nightmare. There was no escape; he was trapped. "Luke, Obi-Wan kept you away from me long enough. Join me; it is your destiny."

"No!" Luke hated the pang in his chest upon hearing his given name pronounced by the artificial voice. He tried to jerk away from Vader's grasp on his jaw, but it was too strong. He couldn't breathe. "I'm a Jedi. I won't turn."

The hold on his chin turned softer, and Luke closed his eyes in anguish, trying to tune out the contact. Vader's fingers trailed up his jaw line to stroke his cheek. "Then you will die." He was so close Luke could feel his unnatural breath echo through his bones, sending shivers through his whole body. He was so small, and the Dark Lord was so huge, that he was completely blocking the light of the room's lamp from reaching him, casting him in darkness. "Is that really what you desire?"

"Beats becoming like you." His words sounded too tiny, too afraid, the trembling whisper far from the defiant scowl he had intended.

The hand froze with a spike of anger, and Luke expected the searing pain of a lightsabre running through his body to burst at any moment. But the leather simply left his cheek, and Vader grasped his shoulders instead, bumping them against the wall. Luke warily looked up at him again.

"Can you not see how unreasonable you are being?" Vader hissed. "I am offering you everything! You could have the entire galaxy, if only you weren't so set in your foolish ways!"

Luke gritted his teeth. Vader's vice-like grip on his shoulders was hurting like hell, and he had to repress a cry of pain. "I don't want any of it."

"The path you are taking will only lead you to suffering. You don't know what the Emperor will do to you. Words cannot describe his power. He will crush your will and shatter your mind, drive you into such horror that nothing will be left of you but an obedient servant, bound to him in every way."

Luke balled his shaking and sweaty hands in fists.

"And you'll let him do that to me?" he asked. "Even as you claim to be my father?"

He froze, unable to believe these words had crossed his lips. But it's not true, he thought. He claims it, but it's false.

"You are not leaving me any choice," Vader answered, and Luke refused to believe the desperation in his tone was anything but faked.

He then released Luke and took a step back. The young man had to fight to remain upright, both from the relief of being freed from this unwanted proximity at last and the fear of what Vader was planning now.

"We will be reaching Imperial Centre in a few hours," he said. "I will leave you that time to reconsider. I advise you to think carefully; from now on your fate is in your own hands."

He turned around and strode towards the door before gesturing to the troopers again. Luke's legs were struggling to support his weight, even relying as he was on the wall in his back. He forced himself to take deep breaths. He wouldn't pass out – he wouldn't collapse – he would remain strong –

"Give him proper clothes and take him to a cell," Vader ordered. "Maximum security. I will not tolerate his escaping."

He left, and Luke was forced to change from the white medical robes into uncomfortable, standard Imperial-issued clothes in front of the soldiers, before being roughly marched to a cell all too similar to the one he had rescued Leia from, so long ago. He endured everything with courage, obeying his captors when they were urging him on and sending them defiant glares whenever they were being rough, never uttering a word.

However, the composure he had so painstakingly maintained shattered at the swooshing sound of his prison's door closing on him with deadly finality. Finally succumbing to the weakness of his half-healed body, he let himself slide down on the floor with a pained whimper. All his muscles were aching, his ribs and hand hurting, his head throbbing, nausea roiling in his stomach.

Vader had captured him. Vader had captured him. He was a prisoner of the Empire. This couldn't be happening. Images flashed before his eyes, his most horrifying nightmares mixing with memories of his confrontations with the man who claimed to be his long dead father, and was now taking him to a fate worse than death.

"Ben, oh, Ben..." Luke called, unable to hold in the tears.

.

There was a silence in the Redemption's medbay, as Leia, Lando and Chewie were giving Han, who was sitting on a bed with a blanket around his shoulders time to process the story. Barely freed from the carbonite, the man had immediately insisted for his friends to tell him what had transpired while he was under.

Facing the huge transparisteel panel in front of her, Leia admired the stars and their fleet, thinking – once more – about how lucky they were to have been able to catch Boba Fett's ship before it left with Han. They had managed to overpower the bounty hunter and taken their friend back to the Falcon before Imperial soldiers had time to catch up with them and prevent them from escaping. She was grateful for that twist of fate; she remembered her despair as they lowered Han into the carbonite, that heartbreaking and terrifying moment when she had thought she would never see him again. Thanks to Lando's change of mind, they had managed to reclaim and free one of the two most important people in her life, something Leia was infinitely relieved and thankful for.

Losing both Luke and Han would have been unbearable.

A potent Corellian curse tore her from her musings, and she turned back to face him. He looked at her, his unfocused hazel eyes set on her, barely starting to see again, his eyebrows furrowed in helpless anger.

"That can't be true. Tell me it's not true."

She looked down.

"I'm afraid it is. We went back for him, but the Imperials reached him before we could. We didn't have a chance to get him back."

She crossed his gaze again, which he held for a few seconds as well as he could before putting a hand on his face with a sigh. Chewie softly growled, and Han squeezed the paw he'd set on his shoulder, accepting the comfort.

"That slimy son of a Hutt –" He cut himself off. "He got what he wanted all along, didn't he? Didn't you say he was after Luke?"

"Yes," Lando whispered, looking as miserable as the other three. "He was very clear the whole time that you were only bait to draw Skywalker in. I'm sorry."

Han scowled. "You can be."

"Han," Leia said, "Lando helped us rescue you."

That didn't soften Han's expression. "That's the least he could do! Because of him, Luke is in Darth Vader's hands!"

Leia froze. "I know," she softly said.

Han immediately calmed down. "'M sorry," he mumbled.

Leia gave him a half smile, but her heart wasn't in it. She did her best to put up a brave front, but there was a constant knot in her guts at the thought of what their friend might be going through at that monster's hands. She shivered.

"Apologies are not going to help us," Lando finally said, taking a step to the centre of the room. "Princess, I would like to formally join the Rebellion. My decision is taken. I was trying to protect my city from the Empire, but I see now that nothing I could have done would have prevented them from taking it. Vader is ruthless, and all my actions have achieved is to forfeit the life of a good man. If there is anything I can do to help, I will."

She turned to him and tried her best to keep her smile on her lips.

"Thank you, Lando," she said, as gracefully as she could with the weight on her chest, a grief that she had an inkling all of them were bearing. "Your dedication is appreciated."

Han shifted in his seat, a sully frown on his face as he squinted at the both of them, still unable to see very well. Unwilling to have him sustain false ideas atop all their other woes, Leia took his hand and squeezed. Han's face immediately softened, and he shot her a smile, that she returned. Chewie growled, and Han looked at him again, the worried expression returning on his features.

"As much as I hate it, pal, I think Lando's right in this. Luke's gone," he answered. "I don't see how there could be hope for him. After all, he's the pilot who destroyed the Death Star, and a wannabe Jedi..."

He didn't finish his sentence. None of them particularly wanted to hear it.

"No," Leia said. "Luke's not dead. And we're going to rescue him. But there's something I must do before."

She took a deep breath and gathered her thoughts. "On Hoth, before everything, Luke asked me for clearance to leave for Jedi training on Dagobah. I was the only one to know where he went, and he didn't even want to tell me at first. I want to go there and ask for his teacher's help in saving him."

She glared at everybody in the room. "I must stress that this information is of absolute need-to-know level. It cannot be repeated to anyone."

"Nobody's going to rat it out, Princess," Han said. "And to who, anyway? But that's not the main problem I see here. How can you be so sure he's still alive?"

Leia stayed silent, trying to put words on it. How could she explain something that was pure intuition? She didn't even understand it herself.

"I... feel it, somehow," she said. "Before leaving Bespin, I heard him talk to me. That's how I knew where to find him, although unfortunately Vader got there before we did. How I know he's not dead is similar. I don't fully understand it, but I am absolutely certain he lives."

Though I don't know in which condition. It haunted her. She felt awful for thinking that way, but she sometimes couldn't help wonder if it wouldn't have been better for Luke to die, rather than be taken in Vader's custody.

"You feel it, huh?" Han broke the stunned silence that had settled after she spoke. "Luke used to say that a lot, too. Maybe you've got the same crazy powers as he did?"

Leia absently nodded. "That's something else I hope to discover," she muttered to herself.

.

The small cell Luke was confined in didn't allow for distractions, and as such he had no idea how much time he had remained in here, sitting on the floor with his knees up and his head resting on them, clutching his right wrist against his chest. His whole body was hurting, but the worst was his new hand, which felt as though it was burning. Phantom pain, Luke knew. The name was jarring, for it certainly was real enough. He let out a moan through gritted teeth.

At least Han and Leia were safe. He had been able to feel them leave the planet before he lost consciousness, he was certain of it. The thought reassured him. If his friends were safe, he could endure what was coming at him with a lighter heart.

It wasn't as if he had helped them a lot, however. Master Yoda had been right: they hadn't died, they had managed to escape without his assistance. All his rushing to their rescue had achieved was getting himself caught. He wouldn't be able to come back to fulfil his promise to the small Jedi Master any time soon... He could perfectly picture Yoda's disappointed face as he looked down and sighed, and the image made his heart clench. Maybe his reluctance to train him had been right; maybe it had only made things worse now that he was in the Sith' hands. Maybe he should never have been trained. He understood better his teacher's first refusal, considering...

He sighed and lifted his head, setting it against the wall behind him. He took a deep breath, released it slowly, then did it again, in the hopes that the motions could soothe his pain, stop the waves of cold terror from washing upon him every time he spared a thought for the situation he had gotten himself in. A tear dropped down his chin and fell on his throat.

It was no use beating himself up, he thought. Right now he needed strength, something the guilt and the uncertainty gnawing at him wouldn't provide. He kept his breaths regular, felt his abdomen rise and fall, his chest expand and retract itself, and focused on the sensation.

In the empty room, the sound of the air coming in and out of his lungs was too loud for his comfort, feeding a line of thought he knew he had to confront sooner or later.

It wasn't true. It couldn't be true. Vader must have lied. And yet here, in the darkness of his solitude, Luke was no longer so certain. Vader's outstretched hand, his dark words shaking him to his core, were carved into his eyelids, haunting him.

It ought to have changed nothing. He shouldn't be affected by it. Blood didn't define a person, and he was still the same man. But repeating these words over and over didn't alleviate the weight of the revelation. Vader's atrocities kept playing in his mind, a horrifying litany: the Purge, Alderaan, Leia, Han, all the worlds he had ruined, all the Rebels he had killed, maimed or tortured.

There was so much he didn't understand. Was Anakin Skywalker a myth then, created to push him on the path of a Jedi? Luke couldn't believe it. Too many people had known him, or had stories about him; he had witnessed too many fond smiles on the faces of Alliance veterans. But then what became of him? Had he... turned into that monster of a machine-man? How could someone that everybody spoke so highly of become like that?

And why had Ben lied to him? All these stories about his father, the cunning warrior, the great pilot and the good friend, murdered by Vader? He had even given him his father's lightabre... The thought that he might unknowingly have wielded Vader's former weapon revolted him. But the sadness and the regret in Ben's eyes had looked all too real. Luke couldn't believe it had all been a scheme, designed to betray him and keep him from his real sire; or worse, to set him up against him. A perfect tool of revenge.

Vader must have lied. Nothing else made sense. But he had no reason to do so. And he had healed him... He hadn't killed Luke, slaughtered him like all other Jedi before him. That had to mean Luke was special to him.

Which he would be, if he truly was... If Vader truly was his father.

It was the first time Luke let the words form themselves in his head, and he had to close his eyes to fight against the disgusted denial overwhelming him. Pain shot through his right arm again, but this time he welcomed it. It felt deserved and comforting, as if suffering could somehow cleanse him of the stain he bore at the deepest of himself. The mere possibility that he could be Vader's offspring left him feeling tainted and dirty, his whole self smeared by the connection.

For if he came from such a foul being, if the much-admired Anakin Skywalker had become this nightmare, what did that mean for him? Was he, too, capable of such atrocities as Vader? Did he also hold this propensity for evil, this hatred and wickedness ready to be unleashed at a moment's inattention?

He had always known there was something different about him.

No. No. Never. It didn't matter, he wouldn't turn, he would remain true to the Rebellion. But these promises seemed empty now. Horrible images were forming in his head, of his flesh turning into metal, his arm striking without his consent, blood that wasn't his own seeping into his joints. He heard the Sith Lord's threats again, of what the Emperor would do to him, of what he would make him become. He wondered if it was possible at all, to change a person so much; but perhaps all of it was already there, hidden in the darkest corner of his heart.

He wished Vader had killed him. The intensity of the feeling surprised him, clogged his throat with despair. It would be so much better for the galaxy if he was dead, his horrendous bloodline ended. He wouldn't have the occasion of doing any more damage, wouldn't inflict this risk on innocent worlds. He was no Jedi; just Sithspawn, a curse ready to happen, the child of a devil. For a feverish moment, he hated that they had left him weaponless. He longed for a last act of defiance, for a way to show them that he would never submit to them.

He longed for it all to stop.

He felt the tears well up in his eyes again, and fought against them as best as he could. He couldn't give in – he had to be – what had Master Yoda said? Calm, at peace... He breathed again, and tried to meditate past his misery.

He needed guidance. He needed support, to know he wasn't alone in this.

"Ben, please..." he tried again, barely daring to hope. "Help me."

He choked his desperate prayer out a couple more times, knowing that if his first mentor hadn't come, he probably wouldn't. And what reason did he have to come to him now?

Nevertheless, repeating the words gave him something to focus on, anything but his current situation. His torment dulled, until it only left a cold and empty hole in his heart, strangely comforting. Feeling nothing was better. It was safer.

A blue shape started appearing in front of him, hazy and imprecise, but Luke immediately felt who it was through the Force. He almost didn't believe it.

"Ben," he whispered, relieved beyond anything he thought possible. "Oh, Ben, I'm so glad to see you."

The older man's features came into view, looking at him with both disapprobation and pity. Luke sat up, tried to stand before his shaking legs made him fall down again, then crawled on his knees closer to the shimmering ghost.

"Luke," Ben said, a sad smile on his lips. "You have put yourself in quite the predicament."

Luke looked away and bowed his head, ashamed. He knew he deserved the reproach. Hearing it from Ben was difficult, but better than being on his own.

"I'm sorry."

"You weren't ready to confront Vader. He beat you easily, because you were no match for him. Now he is bringing you to the Emperor, who will submit you to even more trials. None of it would have happened, had you listened to Yoda and me, and stayed on Dagobah to finish your training."

Luke nodded, unable to speak. His fingers played with the rim of his sleeve. Ben was right. He had failed, and badly; it weighted on his chest like a ton of lead. He wished he could undo it, one way or another.

His eyes fell on the thin scar on his wrist, and he swallowed.

"Ben," he whispered. "Please tell me it's not true. Please tell me Vader isn't my... isn't my father." The words tasted like ashes on his tongue.

The ghost sighed, and Luke's heart sunk, his last hopes destroyed.

"I'm sorry, Luke," Ben replied. "You weren't ready to hear it. We would have told you, when the time was right."

"When the time was right?" Luke said before he could help it, incredulous, looking the old man up in the eye again. Anger and disappointment raged in his chest, so violent he could barely hold his words in check. "You knew I was going up against him! What better time was there? You told me Darth Vader murdered Anakin Skywalker, you lied to me!"

Ben's image flickered for a moment, and Luke thought with dismay he would disappear then and there; but then he raised his hand in urgency.

"Luke, please, try to calm down... I know this is difficult. This place is strong with the dark side; it is very hard for me to appear here. I can only speak to you if your negative emotions don't get in the way."

Luke looked away and took a deep breath, swallowing his indignation. No matter how much he wanted to rant and scream at Ben, being able to talk to him was more important.

"I didn't lie to you," Ben continued. "Anakin Skywalker was my dearest friend. When he turned to the dark side, all of that disappeared; the good man that was your father was destroyed, and only Vader remained. So what I told you was true, from a certain point of view."

"A certain point of view," Luke scoffed, but the venom was gone from it. There were too many questions to be answered, too many mysteries: Ben's words seemed to conceal as much as they said. "Why did he turn?"

Ben looked away from Luke, his eyes unfocused. "I still do not know," he confessed. "The Emperor somehow seduced him. Anakin had always been very fond of him; I don't know what he told him. I didn't see it coming. When I realised what was happening, it was too late."

Luke kept silent, taking it all in. A thousand thoughts were swirling in his head; he tried to understand, to reconcile the picture he had always had of his father to that of the black-clad man who had cut his hand and tortured his friends. How was it possible to change so much?

"Luke," Ben said. "Be very careful in dealing with Vader. You have much of your mother's heart, but I would hate to lose you like we lost her. Until the very end, she believed there was still good in Vader. She tried to reach him, and died for it. Anakin is gone; you have to accept that. He is more machine than man now."

Luke looked down. The whole situation felt unreal, and all too true at the same time. He was so confused and lost. There was a hole in his heart, a wound that nothing could fill. Again cold despair spread in his chest, and he wanted to die, wished he had a blade or a blaster nearby, anything that could take his cursed life from him. Death would be the most merciful fate that could befall him, at this point: the alternative, becoming like his father, was too terrifying.

"What do I do now?" he whispered.

There was a long silence, or at least Luke thought it was so. His heart was beating in his throat, and he felt sick to his stomach.

"There is but one thing to do, I fear," Ben slowly replied. "The Emperor and Vader must die."

A shiver ran through Luke's spine. It made sense, and to an extent he had expected it. But he was their prisoner. The task was near impossible.

"You want me to kill them?" He looked up at Ben again, and saw confirmation in the grave look on his face.

"Luke, you are our last hope. I don't want to put this on your shoulders, but I have to. Only you can rid the world of the Sith."

"How?" Luke couldn't help ask, feeling even more lost and desperate than he was before. "They've captured me, Ben – they're going to – I don't think I can do it."

"Then the galaxy will be lost." Ben's tone was full of regret, but hard as durasteel, and Luke wanted to crawl into a hole. He closed his eyes and bowed his head down. Images swirled within him, of his training on Dagobah: a ship rising out of water, a small being with his hand held out, guiding the massive craft on its way. I can't believe it. That is why you fail.

He gritted his teeth with grim determination. He couldn't afford to fail this time. Vader and the Emperor had to die, and it was now his responsibility to make sure they did. A plan began to form in his head as he remembered the leather glove reaching out to him with promises of power, as he hung above a chasm clinging to a gantry.

"Vader... Vader made me a – an offer," he confessed, shame filling him. "He wanted me to rule at his side. He still does, he told me to think about it while we get to Coruscant. I could pretend to do it. It would put me in the perfect place to strike."

He didn't know what he had expected from Ben, but even more apprehension hadn't been it.

"Luke, be very careful. The dark side is insidious and seductive, it takes when you least expect it to. I don't want to see you destroyed like Anakin was. This is incredibly dangerous."

"But everything about my situation is dangerous," Luke argued, feeling heat and resolve warming him up as if life had come back to him. Again he had purpose. "It's the only way I have to get close enough to them. If I resist them openly they'll always be wary of me. It's better if they don't know my intentions."

Ben's lips were pressed against each other. "I don't like this."

"I won't fall. I promise," Luke said, looking Ben right into the eye. "I'm not going to fail you this time."

Ben scrutinised him once more, then reluctantly nodded. "If you think this is the wiser course, then you must do what you think is right."

He looked up brusquely, as if something had surprised him, and his shape flickered once like a holocall about to get out of range. Luke, too, felt the well of darkness approach like a block of ice in his guts.

"I must go now, Luke. Have courage, and remember what you have learnt. May the Force be with you..."

With that he disappeared, leaving Luke alone in the room, shivering from the cold. He put his arms around himself, and retreated into the farther, darker corner of the cell, staring at the door. A presence was coming; a presence he knew well.

A thousand doubts swirled in his mind now that Ben was gone. His warnings rung into his ears, clearer than they were when he'd first admonished them. Wasn't he doing a huge mistake? Was he really up to this, could he stand up to Vader and the Emperor – and whatever they had prepared to lure him to the dark side?

But he gritted his teeth and swallowed his insecurities. Do, or do not; there is no try, Yoda's voice whispered to him. He wouldn't fail. He couldn't fail.

He brought his knees up and put his arms around them, pretending to be scared, lost, and ready to give in. After the show of defiance he'd given Vader earlier, he would have to be especially persuasive; and if he was truly honest with himself, he had to admit the pretence of fright wasn't so difficult to keep up. But now he had an aim beneath these feelings, and the steely core of determination helped him keep his centre, burning deep inside him. He closed his eyes and took a long and slow breath, then let it out.

The door slid open just as his eyes did, and he took in the shape of his greatest enemy, towering above him like an angel of death come to pass judgement. He swallowed in fear, reminded himself of his plan.

"I hope you have thought about my offer, young one," Vader said.

Luke looked down and ostentatiously bit his lip, obviously torn up.

"I have, actually," he whispered, so low he doubted Vader could hear it without the Force.

A flash of surprise resonated around him, and Luke had to restrain himself not to smile. It was working.

"So you will turn, and accept my training until the moment we can strike?"

"Yes," Luke said, and he didn't have to pretend to sound like the word had been torn from his throat. Saying it sent shivers of revulsion down his spine. He wasn't supposed to do this.

It was all for the plan. Vader and the Emperor needed to die.

He looked up in uncertainty when Vader didn't immediately respond. The Dark Lord was observing him, his hands behind his back; only the way his helmet was inclined reassured Luke that he hadn't blown up everything. He watched his breath carefully, in and out, in and out. He couldn't waver right now.

"Rise then, Luke Skywalker, and kneel before me to pledge your allegiance."

His heart in his throat, Luke obeyed. It took all his strength of will, and sheer determination made Force, to compel his weakened body into obeying him and lower itself in an uncomfortable position: one knee down, his arm on his thigh, his head bowed in submission. The words he forced out of his mouth had a bitter and acid taste; the taste of betrayal.

"I pledge myself to your teachings... Father."

All around him, the Force roared and exploded, revelling in Vader's dark mirth.