People around Luke started talking, their voices muffled -- Luke hadn't been paying attention to what they were saying, his focus on his father. Something was... skipped, like a broken record, and suddenly the two of them were walking down the hall. Only now the world was tinted red, and Luke was visible -- they were seeing through Vader's eyes now, through the memories tied to the lightsaber.
Emotions swarmed through Vader like a storm in the resulting conversation: pleasure, at being referred to as "father," annoyance at being called "Anakin," pride as giant mechanical hands turned over a lightsaber that looked painfully similar to Kenobi's -- my son is so strong he came this far virtually on his own.
"I feel the conflict within you, let go of your hate!"
Regret. The regret was so strong because he knew -- My Master will kill him -- and his son just kept clinging to hope.
"It is too late for me, son."
Another skip of a recording, and then... darkness and the Dark, still tinted red, still from Vader's eyes: a massive throne away from home, staring out at a star field with a green moon glowing softly in the darkness outside.
"Welcome, young Skywalker. I have been expecting you."
The emotions were tightly controlled, the focus entirely on a cloaked, black Shadow. A simple robe with an elaborate clasp, hateful, yellow eyes focused on the small figure beside him -- he is just meeting his gaze, not a bit of fear in him. My son... -- deep, wrinkled recesses giving way to a rotten toothed sneer at the young beacon of light that stood there like he was the one in control of the situation, not the one to be tested.
no subject
Emotions swarmed through Vader like a storm in the resulting conversation: pleasure, at being referred to as "father," annoyance at being called "Anakin," pride as giant mechanical hands turned over a lightsaber that looked painfully similar to Kenobi's -- my son is so strong he came this far virtually on his own.
"Come with me."
Luke's words had ripped through Vader in that moment, and Maul would be able to feel the struggle, the urge to just listen. A memory flashed for a brief moment -- an old, flickering recording of Padmé on the birthing table that became her death bed, pleading with Obi-Wan. "There... is still good in him..." -- replaced quickly with seething anger -- he doesn't understand. My Master is too strong. The Dark Side is too strong.
"I feel the conflict within you, let go of your hate!"
Regret. The regret was so strong because he knew -- My Master will kill him -- and his son just kept clinging to hope.
"It is too late for me, son."
Another skip of a recording, and then... darkness and the Dark, still tinted red, still from Vader's eyes: a massive throne away from home, staring out at a star field with a green moon glowing softly in the darkness outside.
"Welcome, young Skywalker. I have been expecting you."
The emotions were tightly controlled, the focus entirely on a cloaked, black Shadow. A simple robe with an elaborate clasp, hateful, yellow eyes focused on the small figure beside him -- he is just meeting his gaze, not a bit of fear in him. My son... -- deep, wrinkled recesses giving way to a rotten toothed sneer at the young beacon of light that stood there like he was the one in control of the situation, not the one to be tested.