Yes, Lord Vader

A/N: I needed somewhere to hug words.

Chapter 1 - Predicament

Perhaps it was a predilection of poor fortune, posturing and vandalism that landed the child in his current predicament. A child no more than fourteen standard years old apprehended for defacing the statue of His Majesty Emperor Palpatine on Empire Day, on the Emperor's very own homeworld of Naboo. Blond haired and blue eyed, the boy, wearing little more than tattered farming rags not out of place on some derelict Outer Rim dust ball, merely blinked at him.

"Young man, do you understand the gravity of the situation into which you have landed yourself?" Rich, received pronunciation rolled from Grand Moff Tarkin's taut lips and fury rolled from him in waves which splashed upon the Stormtroopers holding the boy. "You have defaced an immensely valuable statue of His Majesty Emperor Palpatine on this day of celebration. What do you have to say for yourself?"

Inexplicably, the boy brightened and he opened his mouth. "Well, sir, you see I was drawn to the ruminations of an artist most grand who speculated most splendidly upon the recusant restorative work of an excellent effigy in the utmost likeness, all due respects granted, of His Royal Most Exhaultedness in attempting to recompose the stipulated image with certainty, utilising utilitarian and pragmatic methodology of redecoration suitable for recognition of the grand auspices of Empire Day."

The throne room of Theed collectively blinked. Someone deep in the ranks of Queen's court strangled down an inappropriate noise.

"You painted the sculpture scarlet," Tarkin breathed with difficulty.

"T'was an exotic reflection of the refractive capabilities of localised aesthetic, both necessary and indispensable to the cohort of collaborating minds forming civil, informed and cultivated bedrock and ultimately esteemed society through mechanised aerosol can." The boy was a sea of serenity against the raging firestorm that was Grand Moff Tarkin who paled and shook as the boy delivered his reply.

"You clearly have no understanding of the situation upon which you have landed yourself." Tarkin drew himself to his full and rather unimpressive height. "Lord Vader, how shall we deal with such brazen insubordination?"

Vader folded his arms resolutely and contemplated the scene before him. Tarkin, filled with malice, the decorated Queen of Naboo mortified at the proposed execution of a child for vandalism along with her court, Senator Bail Organa and his daughter among the audience, simmering with outrage. "Measures must be taken. Where are your parents, boy?"

The boy inclined head somewhat morosely. "An untimely expiration, Lord Vader."

"An orphan then", Tarkin announced triumphantly.

Bail Organa furiously gestured. "You are going to condemn a poor, street orphan, who lacks so much as a guiding figure in life, to such a harsh punishment when the poor boy has had no positive role model? The boy needs a family, not punishment."

"And who would be willing to take such an urchin in? Surely he would be better have his needs met by entering the Imperial Fostering Organisation," the reedy man demanded.

"We would," a high, imperious voice emerged from Organa's daughter. "We can provide superb care for someone in his position as we so regularly do with our Senate sponsored mercy missions." Leia Organa positively bristled in the Force, unfurling a set of spines aligned in Tarkin's direction. Much like her mother Queen Breha, the Princess had developed a velvet glove concealing durasteel as the utmost courtesy coated her tones. The blond child's head swivelled in her direction at speed, a minute distortion in his flowing sense of peace. The boy would have been much at home among Jedi meditations.

"I have my doubts as to the level of discipline you would provide to the boy given his detrimental start in life," Tarkin's voice thick, almost simpering. "I feel he needs a stronger guide in life." Immediately Vader could feel the unconcealed surge of suspicion from the Organas, with Bail Organa taking a step closer towards the child ringed by guards.

"We have cared for many orphans who suffered due to the destruction caused by the rebel scum," Bail Organa positively spat in Tarkin's direction. "Our mercy missions have always been available to assist those orphaned by the conflicts. The overwhelming majority have become well disciplined members of society. Why should this child be any different?"

"This child," Tarkin rolled, "is not a war torn boy ruined by conflict, but an ill mannered reprobate. To suggest his circumstances are the same detracts from the point." His lips curled upwards, the Dark Side surged in response and Vader could feel an urgent, panicked whisper before something breathed gently and extinguished the voice of the Force. Vader's mind drifted to the disturbance as the back and forth between the trio continued in vain.

"I'm sure you are in agreeance, Lord Vader," Tarkin uttered and Vader returned his attention to the matter present. "You are in need of a personal assistant and the boy is in need of some discipline. What better way to have him repent for his misdeeds than to the serve Empire so directly?" Tarkin's sadism was a beacon, but not to the Dark Side for it stubbornly eluded his grasp even as Tarkin foisted the disobedient child into his metaphorical arms.

"This is unacceptable," the Princess screeched," you cannot simply post this poor child on a military ship and expect us to let this stand. It is simply deplorable! The Senate will not stand for this appalling treatment of a child." It seemed to escape her Highness that she too was a child and one where the political might of the Moff towered above her.

"Oh, not so my dear, you see the boy will have a civilian posting as an aide to Lord Vader to better facilitate his busy duties throughout the Empire," Tarkin's smugness seeped deeply into the Force. "There he shall learn discipline while retaining his youthly entitlements." The Sith Lord felt the Force stutter in the face of such a bold lie. Tarkin no doubt expected him to execute the boy on the spot for his prolonged verbosity. The boy, not seeming to care for the proceedings deciding his fate, gazed idly at the large mosaic of Queen Amidala decorating the throne room's ceiling with mild interest. Pain shot through him as he noted it was the most expressive he had seen the boy since he been hauled before the court in binders.

Vader remained silent and felt the opportunity to object be washed away by the composure of the boy who seemed to broadcast a gentle indifference. Vader found himself mimicking it as the screaming match grew more frenzied, with their host finally deciding to partake in the farce of a conversation. Together both gazed upwards towards the ceiling as the sun began to set along the horizon.

The shouting match was to no avail and the Sith Lord found himself sweeping down the steps in the direction of the hanger and his shuttle, boy in tow, garbed in some garish outfit no doubt acquired from the child of a courtier. Dressed in blinding blue silk robes, the child for all intents and purposes had not seemed to realise that a forceful conscription had occurred. Though to what military branch Vader knew not, for there was no paperwork to indicate that a transfer of any kind had occurred with assignment to Vader himself given that the boy was not to occupy a military rank as per Tarkin's futile and ultimately veiled promise to the Senator. A trail of frustration itched through him as he contemplated the response of his Master to the assignment of a child aide to him and Tarkin's chilling presence in the issuing of the ultimatum.

"What is your name?"

"Luke," Luke said serenely and the Force quivered. A half truth.

"No last name, child?" Vader found himself asking, as Luke half jogged to keep pace with the striding Dark Lord.

"Milord, the allocation so true of a last name in such a predicament as mine is highly disinclined given the priori and objectionable engagement of fellow blood related members of my family group who participated in unseemly and subversive behaviour relating to their disaffection with institutionalised organisations which offended their sensibilities most gravely and caused a great reallocation of all available assets in support of rejecting the source of dispute." Luke beamed at the Dark Lord, even as the words tumbled from dry lips. The Force quivered, an odd tremor which sang in agreement with the deluge. Truth.

"I shall call you Luke."

"Yes, Lord Vader."