Chapter Text
Luke drifted on soft clouds in his father’s arms, swaying with the motion of him walking. The scent of sandalwood and honey was powerful here, lulling him into further softness.
As soon as he and Leia had awoken, unable to feel Master Ben, surrounded by the faint scent of an unfamiliar alpha, they’d sprung into action. For all their practice levitating things with the Force, though, they were unable to pick the lock on the door of the bare durasteel room before the strange alpha himself barged in with a cold fog of power. In seconds, that cold fog had surrounded Luke like a rope and hauled him into the man’s arms, shouting. There, the scent, still faint, was more potent, and something in it felt like belonging. Like family. The man had massaged Luke’s scent gland on the side of his neck with two gloved fingers and Luke’s legs had gone weak. A warm feeling spread through his body, drowning him in sugar-spun clouds of contentment that dissolved his ability to think beyond alpha. Luke had purred, nose turning towards the smell of sandalwood. He lost track of Leia.
Until she screamed his name.
Luke had chirruped a questioning noise, seeking his sister, but another circle of those fingers on his scent gland had the clouds swallowing him further. It was hard to pay attention, after that. He’d vaguely caught something about their father, and the Force pulsed with the answer—a recognition, at last, of the man holding him.
Anakin.
Luke never wanted to do anything else from the moment he finally, finally was able to smell his father properly. The scent was sandalwood and honey, and with it the clouds in Luke’s mind thickened, surrounding him like the softest of nests.
Was this what he’d been missing all his life? What he’d stayed up past sundown for, watching each sun vanish beyond the horizon and stars rise in the darkening sky, waiting? For his father?
He was too floaty now to miss anything.
Now, his father sat down, arranging Luke comfortably against him on his lap. Luke laid his head on his father’s shoulder again as soon as he could, mouth open as he inhaled that comforting scent. He didn’t even care if he drooled on his father’s armor.
“Luke?” The word, said out loud and in the Force at the same time, drew his attention toward the rest of the galaxy. “What would you like to eat?”
“Ea’?” It was difficult to form words. His body didn’t want to cooperate, just to melt into his father’s embrace. His tongue felt thick in his mouth.
His father ran a gentle finger down the center of Luke’s face. Luke scrunched up his nose and opened his eyes. His father’s blurry face smiled down on him, haloed by wavy brown hair. Everything beyond his father was too blurry to make out more than light and shadow.
And yet somehow, Luke couldn’t bring himself to care.
He started purring again at the sight of his father, a smile overtaking his face. “Papa.”
“My little angel.” His father traced over the curve of Luke’s nose again. “How do you feel about a smoothie?”
“M’kay.”
Luke drifted, still smiling, content to ride whatever peaceful, contented feeling this was. It was better even than the Force. Than his sister.
His sister…
“Here is the menu, Leia. You may order anything that you wish.”
Luke was jostled as his father used one arm to hand something off to a blurry figure. The Force penetrated his peace with a familiar anxiety and restlessness.
There was the sound of tapping on a datapad. “Where’s the soups?”
“Allow me to show you.” Luke was jostled again, and this time a new face was brought into view. Leia. Luke chirruped happily and reached out for her.
Her blurry face was concerned, but she reached back. They intertwined their fingers, a tangled constellation between them and their father.
“Here,” Papa said. “Press the order button when you are finished, and a droid will bring it.”
Luke lost track of time again as his father carded his fingers through Luke’s hair. Luke’s hand slipped out of Leia’s. He loved it when Aunt Beru petted his hair like this, but when Papa did it, it brought those sweet sugar-spun clouds that were so nice. There was nothing like those clouds on Tatooine. Back home, there was very little that was soft. Coarse sand got into everything, ruining even well-worn blankets, sneaking its way into even his shoes. The Force was like the desert, big and open, with only the occasional blip of life. Leia was the loudest, then Old—Master Ben, then whoever was nearest. Most people on Tatooine weren’t nice. Heck, even Camie and Fixer, who they hung out with, weren’t that nice…not like his father, who was holding him. Safe and secure.
Eventually, there was a straw brought to his lips, and Papa said to drink. Luke did. It was a cold, thick drink, sweet with berries, and—
“Pallies,” Luke said.
His father chuckled. “Yes, young one. It has yogurt, honey, pallies, and berries.”
Luke took another sip. The cold was starting to clear his head. He already missed the depths of the soft feeling, where nothing mattered, but as he came back to real awareness, he realized that his sister thought something was wrong. And Leia was usually right.
He sat up. The world was still blurry—and gray, which he vaguely remembered from when he and Leia first woke up. Where were they, again? Papa—his father had said something, but it had been very hard to listen.
“Back with us, starlight?” his father asked, cupping Luke’s face and stroking his cheek with his thumb. Luke shied away, not wanting to be drawn back into the soft feeling again.
Fear crept into his bones.
Luke looked up at the face of the man holding him. He had a long scar down one side of his face, just barely missing his eye, which was a molten gold that melted into blue around the edges, swirled like marbled metal. Totally wicked. Luke wanted to replicate that in a droid casing. The man’s hair was wavy, like his and Leia’s, but darker, like he hadn’t seen the suns in a while. His skin was likewise pale. He wore black armor that covered the rest of his body, except for his hands, which were bare.
This was his father?
His father was alive?
“Anakin?” Luke asked. He worked his jaw, sticking his tongue out and trying to regain feeling in it. He scrunched up his face and shook his head to clear the static and fuzz.
The simmering smell of an angry alpha tainted the air, but was quickly replaced with a projected neutrality. “As I told you sister, young one, I go by Lord or Darth Vader now.”
“I’m Luke Skywalker,” Luke said, remembering the earlier conversation now. He waited, frowning, for his father to contradict him.
Luckily, he didn’t. Kind of. “In private, starlight.” Ana—Vader’s tone changed. “Do you want anything else to eat? Leia, how is your soup?”
“It’s good,” she said, polite the same way she was to the teachers at school. Which was to say, the same way she would have been polite to a Hutt if they ever met face-to-face. Covering anger and distrust.
Luke probably shouldn’t stay in the man’s arms if Leia distrusted him that much. At least until Luke could determine for himself whether or not to trust their new father.
Luke tapped his father’s shoulder. “Can I sit in my own chair?”
“Are you sure you could sit upright without assistance?” Amusement was written all over his father’s face and scent. Luke blinked rapidly, trying not to smile back. It was hard. The omega in him just wanted to make his father happy, to do whatever he said. It was a lot. Especially since Luke had never felt like that before. He’d certainly never wanted to do everything Uncle Owen said—much to his uncle’s exasperation. Leia he followed around because he just wanted to, and her pull wasn’t this strong.
“I—yeah.”
“Hm. Perhaps if you are feeling so awake, then it is time to get you both checked over by a physician. Stars only know what maladies and mistreatments you suffered outside of my care. Leave the dishes, they will be taken later.” Vader stood, with Luke still in his arms. Luke squeaked in surprise and wrapped his arms around his father’s neck for balance. There, the scent of sandalwood was stronger, and he relaxed a little. It smelled like safety.
There was the sound of a chair scraping back. “Outside your care? Where were you?” Leia demanded.
Luke tried to reach out for her in the Force, but his connection to it was wobbly, like a bad holoconnection, and all he got was just as blurred as his vision. He huffed. Useless.
Luke finally peeked over his father’s shoulder. Leia, walking behind them, caught his eye and gave him a look that said, are you okay? Luke nodded. His father stroked his hair again, once, and hugged him.
Luke could smell how joyful his father was at having them. Had his father missed him and Leia as much as they missed him, even before they met? Had he been looking for them all their lives?
He didn’t have long to wonder before there was the hiss of a door opening, and a new, unfamiliar smell.
Luke hid in his father’s shoulder before he fully processed it.
“Dr. Malleolon. These are the new patients I informed you of. Luke and Leia Vader. An omega and alpha, respectively.”
“Of course, milord.” The new man’s voice, Dr. Malleolon, was very matter-of-fact. “Just a physical, for now, to assess baseline health?”
“Yes. You may begin with Leia.”
Luke peeked out again. Leia glanced at him, then hopped up onto the padded examination table as directed.
“Now, your highness, tell me: How old are you?” Dr. Malleolon asked. He was a dark-skinned human male, middle-aged, with short, dense, wavy black hair, and the scent of a beta.
Leia bit her lip before answering. “Twelve.”
“Your birthdate?”
“Empire day.”
“That’s my birthday, too,” Luke said.
The doctor noted this down. “Have you ever had any major illnesses?”
He went on to ask her about her sleep, exercise, diet, when she presented, and what planet she grew up on. At the word Tatooine, Vader grew angry again. At Luke’s whimper, though, he quickly returned to petting Luke’s hair, and started swaying gently. Luke wondered if the swaying was for his own benefit, or Vader’s; but he supposed it didn’t matter. It calmed them both down.
Soon enough, it was Luke’s turn.
“Lord Vader, if you could set him on the examination table.” Dr. Malleolon bowed.
With some reluctance, Luke was lowered onto the table. His father’s arms lingered around him, but Vader let go. Luke ran his hand over the tight, stiff weave of the table covering. It was a decent material. Would probably stand up to a sandstorm or two, make a good cover for the speeder.
Did his father have speeders here?
Wait, they were on a starship! That was so much better than a speeder!
Maybe Papa would let him help pilot it…
“I’m going to shine a light in your eyes to check your pupil reaction, alright?” Dr. Malleolon warned. Luke barely processed his words before he was blinded. He whimpered, throwing his arms up to shield himself and leaning back—right into Papa’s chest. His father held him in place. “Pupil reaction good,” the doctor muttered, scribbling on his clipboard. “Now your vital signs. Hold still.”
The doctor swept a handheld scanner over Luke. It beeped.
“Healthy, if slightly malnourished, like your sister.” Dr. Malleolon reached for Luke’s neck, hand hovering just above his scent gland. Luke pressed back against Vader’s chest, which was rumbling soothingly. “May I?” It didn’t escape him that the doctor was asking his father, not him.
“Yes.”
“No!”
Leia’s shouted protest came too late. The doctor was already rubbing circles on Luke’s scent gland, and the sugar-spun clouds were already back, rolling over him like a sandstorm of sweetness. Luke keened, leaning into the hand, purring like a loth cat.
The doctor pulled away.
Papa hugged Luke loosely from behind. Luke’s head lolled, his eyelids fluttering. Everything felt very far away.
“As I suspected from your note, my Lord. The boy is touch-starved.”
“How come I’m not?” Leia asked.
“You, your highness, are an alpha. Omegas require more physical contact to be healthy.”
“Mmmmm,” Luke protested. The sugar-spun clouds crowded out his words. His tongue felt thick, body heavy with that sweet, safe feeling. He pawed the air for an anchor. His father caught his hand and rubbed circles on it with his thumb.
“I will see to it that he gets the contact he needs,” Vader said. “Are there any other issues that I should be aware of?”
“Not at this time, no. Just make sure that they both have adequate nutrition—I will provide an outline of what that entails—and that the boy has physical contact for at least four hours per day. Co-sleeping with someone at night would also be highly beneficial.”
His father brought his other hand up to Luke’s neck and rubbed circles on his scent gland, too, and Luke lost track of the conversation entirely.