Exhaustion, physical and mental, rimmed hooded eyes with dark shadows, hinting at fragile weakness despite the fact that he stood tall and straight. Those ever-expressive blue eyes were guarded now, hard and blank, giving nothing away, neither hope nor hate.
But as he turned, as their eyes met, for just a second those shields faltered, and Vader saw what lay beneath. His heart skipped a beat, perfectly regulated breathing breaking pace momentarily in empathy, every instinctive need of a father to protect his son coming unexpectedly to the fore.
Recognizing this, Luke turned abruptly away in unresponsive rejection. All that he wished to convey had been communicated in that broken moment; he neither desired nor needed his father's concern, far too late to be of any aid, if it ever could have been. As far as the boy was concerned, Vader had made his loyalties clear at Bespin--for him to claim any disquiet now was hypocrisy bordering on insult.
Vader remained frozen, wildly conflicting emotions raging at the sight of his son. At his sense in the Force, isolated and withdrawn, raw with desolation, body and soul both bruised and battered, doused in Darkness. Scars that would never heal but keep on cutting ever deeper, tearing into any last vestige of hope.
And Palpatine's hand clear in it all. He knew that; recognized those feelings from his own scorched soul.
But he'd never thought to see it in his son--not like this.
.
Then the moment was broken as the man before him turning away, stepping from the twilight shadows though he remained shrouded in Darkness to Vader's mind. Walking toward the lofty double doors of the Audience Chamber as they opened in silent invitation.
Vader started mechanically forward, climbing the steps so that they reached the doors together, wringing his mind for something--anything--to say. Some motive, some defense, some justification of higher goals.
"Don't. Don't even try," Luke murmured simply, eyes straight ahead, sense brittle with barely controlled animosity.
This was his son, his son who spoke those words with such cool hostility, leaving Vader cold. All that he had returned for was gone...because there was no empathy here, the newly gained perspective his father had forced upon him affording neither the acknowledgment nor tolerance Vader had anticipated.
In that moment, he wondered how he could ever have believed it would. Such things were earned, not enforced.
After years in a solitary, empty void, Vader had discovered a connection; true affinity, a chance to regain so much that had been lost...of himself and of Padmé. He had been given a gift beyond price...and he had driven it away, he realized. Destroyed it, as he had destroyed everything of meaning in his life. He had lost the son he'd sought to gain, by his own hand--by the Emperor's hand, with his willing collaboration. Knowledge of this twisted his stomach, churned his thoughts, lit some distant fuse as he walked automatically forward.
.
Then he was in the Audience Chamber, the room as dark as his Master's soul, as dark as the realization of the sum of his own bleak loss in that moment. His son walked at his side...but had never been further from his reach.
The Emperor sat tensely upright in the heavy, ornate chair placed on a low dais at the far end of the cavernous room, this the only furnishing, making the opulent gilded embellishments to the crimson, relief-carved walls seem gaudy and gauche, out of place. His taut stance was the only indicator which revealed Palpatine's emotions, though it could be either nervousness or excitement.
Vader walked evenly forward, trying to recall a single moment when he had seen even a trace of nerves in the wily old man.
He was infinitely wary of the immense power contained within his Master, especially here, completely enveloped in the Emperor's dark, overbearing presence.
They reached the throne together, father and son, the thrill of fervent anticipation painting the Emperor's pallid features. Vader took a step forward to drop on one knee before his Master as he had a thousand times before--it meant nothing now, an unthinking gesture of reassurance for his paranoid Master.
His shock when he knelt in genuflection, resting his elbow to his knee, face to the ground, was that his son did the same--though he kept his back straight, hand to his knee, only his head dipped.
His son knelt.Vader's mind was numb, stunned to dazed distraction by this simple action, seen a thousand times before as a matter of Court etiquette. But this was different. This was his son.
And Palpatine had control of him.
He had known that this would be the case, but to see it, to have it played out before him, was deeply unsettling in ways he couldn't yet begin to recognize or resolve.
.
.
The Emperor sighed, a deep sense of contentment passing through him, widening his thin, pale lips into a satisfied grin as he relished the moment he had conspired to create since he'd learned of the boy's existence.
Who would have thought that Vader's child had survived? That Vader himself would be so foolish as to give his own son over to Palpatine. That the boy would embody all the power his father had held and lost. A whole galaxy of possibilities knelt at Palpatine's feet now, plans long since crushed unconditionally within reach once more.
He leaned back, taking another deep breath, glorying in the moment; savoring it. Total dominion with no restraints, no threat left which could genuinely check or hinder his goals. It had been a long time coming, thwarted at every turn by the sanctimonious, self-serving Jedi who sought to bring him down by their actions and their ominous prophesies. And now he had destroyed them; more than that--he owned them. Commanded them.
And he had Vader to thank for that. Vader had provided the lure and the key to unlocking his son. For that alone, he should grant his old advocate life...for now.
But survival came at a price; there could be no connection between father and son if he were to keep them both. That link must be irrevocably broken.
There were so many reasons why this fight was destined to take place, that much Palpatine had foreseen. And they would all be twisted to serve his ends tonight, as would Lord Vader. He had always served the Emperor admirably, just as he would now. Whether he wished it or not.
Because it was Vader whom Palpatine needed to goad into this fight, he knew--not his son. His son had wanted this for so long, this test of strength now that they stood as equals. The opportunity to overturn his previous failure at Bespin. His final revenge on the man he held responsible for so much loss and pain. The Jedi would have held him back in this--wanted him to fight, but for their own pious reasons, not his. Clipped that driving desire which gave him strength. But Palpatine had revived and restored it, fed and nurtured it, reinforced and intensified it. It had served the Sith Master so well... But he no longer needed it to control Skywalker. Now was the time to lay it to rest, to give his Jedi what he desired. Reward for his loyalty, confirmation of his abilities--and most importantly, a test of Palpatine's control.
But to do this, he needed Vader to fight, and to do so to the best of his capability. Any less would not push Skywalker to that edge, would not be a true test. He was confident though, that if he could incite that first blow, then Vader's innate temperament would take over, and the boy would naturally respond. He was, after all, his father's son.
And it shot this first meeting of equals through with a dangerous, uncertain edge--the excitement, the unpredictability of setting Skywalker loose against his father, not sure whether his feral Jedi could be brought to heel in the fury of the moment. The exhilaration of loosing the wolf without yet truly controlling it, not knowing if it would obey its Master's command to leave Vader alive.
The prospect made Palpatine's heart beat faster, anticipation lacing his blood with adrenaline and making his hands tremble. He cackled in appreciation, turning his attention to the boy as he gestured slightly with one tremulous hand to the side of the throne.