silence carves the space, thick and absolute, as though even the stars beyond the hull hold their breath. his presence announces itself long before the boy dares to turn: the rasp of the respirator, the weight of armored steps echoing across the chamber floor. ( he should feel nothing. he has trained himself in shadow and fury, hollowed out the man until only vader remained. and yet, the boy. the boy stirs embers he thought long buried beneath ash. ) luke turns. their gazes lock, though his own eyes are hidden, veiled behind durasteel and myth. anakin feels it anyway, that flicker of recognition, that dangerous spark that threatens to undo them both.
❝ …you. ❞ the word trembles, torn between defiance and disbelief. anakin tastes it like blood in his mouth. he takes a step closer. every line of his body promises menace, yet inside, the fracture widens. ( mine. my son. the galaxy will call me monster, but he—he should be the one to call me father. ) the boy’s hand twitches toward the saber at his hip. anakin feels the motion, calculates the distance, but does not strike. instead he lets the silence hang, heavy as a blade yet to fall. he studies the boy, so much of padmé in his eyes, so much of himself in the stubborn jaw. ( light, when he has been darkness too long. ) ❝ i am not here to frighten you, luke. ❞ the lie tastes strange. ❝ i am here because you and i are the same. ❞ his gauntlet flexes once at his side, a betrayal of tremor. softer, almost careful: ❝ and whether you fear me or not changes nothing. ❞ @dualsuns
