Chapter Text
“Take off his helmet.”
Din’s heart skips a beat at the drawling command. The ship's bridge is large and illuminated only by the thousands of stars outside the window. He feels frozen. Something invisible had paralyzed him the moment he boarded, making him think of wizards and magic. Even if his hands were freed, he doesn't think he could do much more than stare at these enemies.
A ragged sound cuts through him like a knife, and, for the first time since the Imperials had attacked him, cold shivers run up his spine. All kinds of scenarios fill his head: torturing droids and laser weapons, getting ready to kill him.
Trying to ignore the bloodcurdling sound, Din focuses on the immediate problem. They are going to remove his helmet, they will take away his honor, and anonymity. There is also the matter of The Child; all he’s been fighting for, not to let Imperials get hold of the baby, will go to waste if they find out about his powers. The Mandalorian speaks a little prayer in his head, asking that The Child’s hidden place in the Razor Crest be concealed enough to fool the stormtroopers until he can escape.
One of the soldiers holding him kicks at his shin at the emperor’s command, making him fall to his knees. He's looking to his sides desperately, searching for something that could help him, when panic rises to his chest as he finds the source of the sound that saturates the room, but it isn't a machine. It's a man. Din’s eyes fall on the tall, dark figure behind the emperor.
Darth Vader. There is no mistaking him.
When it became clear that his baby’s powers were something bigger than anything he could comprehend, Din started his quiet research on The Force. There wasn’t a lot of information about it left in the galaxy; the Empire made sure of that, according to the rumors Din heard. However, he did find out about one last Force-wielder who lives: Emperor Palpatine’s right hand. There is no escaping from his powers; all fools who tried ended up dead, and The Mandalorian doesn't want to be added to that list, nor does he want him anywhere near his son.
Vader walks slowly towards him, his own masked face staring into Din’s. The paralyzing sensation becomes stronger as his face is forced slightly upwards. A soft hiss escapes into the air; his helmet disengages.
“Please don’t,” He manages. Embarrassment fills his head. His honor is tainted at the plea, but he knows there's nothing to do if someone like the Emperor or Darth Vader tries to see his bare face. “Any grace you may grant me, let it be this.”
Vader ignores him. Din imagines him sneering under the black mask. He lifts his hand to take the helmet off when a new voice interrupts.
“Father, wait.” The voice speaks behind the Mandalorian. The softness of the cadence brings him out of his misery for a second.
Both the emperor and Darth Vader look up. Din can't see him, but whoever the newcomer was, he bought Din some precious time. He frowns, thinking hard. He is held still by the Force; if he could somehow change that, he could take down the few guards that are in the room, but he is unarmed and knows that, even if he somehow managed to beat them, fighting someone like Vader would lead him nowhere.
“Young Skywalker, where did you get that?” Asks the emperor, the muscles on his jaw now tense.
Skywalker. This catches his attention. The name rings a bell in Din’s head, but he can't remember where he must have heard it. Probably an agent of the Empire.
“It was in the Mandalorian’s ship,” The soft voice speaks again. “I thought only the Jedi used lightsabers.” He finally comes closer and into Din’s line of vision.
His face falls under the safety of the Beskar. This man-Skywalker-is holding The Child in one arm.
He is dressed all in black with a hood that almost covers his eyes. He is younger than Din expected from his voice, even younger than himself. He doesn’t appear menacing, at least not compared to Vader and Palpatine, but he spots a lightsaber hanging on his belt, and, next to it, held by this man’s gloved hand, is Din’s recovered Darksaber.
Now he's in trouble.
The man turns on the saber, and the dark light hits his cheeks. Fear creeps back into the Mandalorian’s bones.
“Mandalorian…” Darth Vader seems to consider him. “You don’t wield the Force. So, how come you have this kind of weapon?”
Din doesn't respond; he is too relieved at the thought that at least they haven't noticed anything unusual about the child. Or, if they have, they don't show it.
Vader forgets all about Din’s helmet and closes his fist instead. His body slumps suddenly, and all oxygen is knocked out of him in a second. He bends over and makes to bring his hands towards his neck, forgetting they are tied together behind his back. Pain constricts his chest, but stops as quickly as it started.
Din takes a deep breath and coughs, “I-I won it in combat! It b-belongs to my people.” He spits.
“I guess we’ll see about that.”
Darth Vader walks towards the hooded man–his son, from what he’d said–and accepts the saber from him. He turns it off after a glance at its blade and hooks it to his belt, next to his lightsaber.
He then turns towards the baby. The Child whines, and Din’s chest tightens; some silent encounter seems to happen between Vader and the green creature.
“Leave him alone,” The Mandalorian spoke with a hard voice. “He’s just a baby.”
Darth Vader looks directly at Emperor Palpatine, and Din knows they can tell The Child is Force-sensitive. Palpatine stands up, despite his short stature, his presence makes the room stop, every soul waiting for his next breath. He slowly makes his way towards the scene.
Din feels blinded by the lack of information. How do they know? Can they sense it somehow?
Unexpectedly, Skywalker throws Din a sharp look that he doesn’t understand. He catches a glimpse of the blue eyes behind the hood as anger floods him at seeing this man hold his child.
He wants to kill these people. Sudden hatred for the Empire breaks into Din’s head. He’s never felt so powerless.
It's the Emperor who speaks next.
“Luke, I think this is your perfect opportunity to prove yourself to your father and me,” He says with a fabricated smile. “As any Jedi could tell, this child is strong with the Force… a bit old maybe, but he’s perfectly suited to learn the ways of the Force,” He caresses the baby’s ear with his long fingers before continuing. “You will train him. He will be a new asset for our Empire.”
Skywalker doesn't even flinch, “Yes, master.”
The Emperor nods, satisfied, and sits back on his throne.
“Take the Mandalorian to his cell and keep a watch on him. We’ll soon find out how exactly he found the Dark Saber and a force-sensitive child all by himself. I trust you won’t have difficulties with this task, Lord Vader.”
“No, my Lord.” Vader obliges.
Din looks at the baby. His stomach is as hard as rock, his eyes water at the thought of anything happening to him. Glancing upwards, he finds Skywalker’s eyes again. He needs to know where he's heard of him before. There has to be something Din can use against him. Maybe even something to get out of this place alive.
“Luke, you can go now.”
“Yes, father,” He hands the Child to Darth Vader and comes to stand next to Din. The stormtroopers bring him to his feet roughly and follow them out of the room.
As the Mandalorian throws a last look at his son with wavering fear, he catches Darth Vader doing the same with his.
“Welcome to the new Death Star,” Whispers Luke Skywalker.