Chapter Text
For the first five years of Luke’s life, he lived with his aunt and uncle on a moisture farm on Tatooine.
He spent his days tailing his Uncle Owen around the farm, helping to check on all the vaporator equipment. He spent evenings cooking with Auntie Beru and learning recipes passed down from his Grandma Shmi.
Uncle Owen taught him how to hunt and trap. He wasn’t ready to learn how to shoot on his own, but Uncle Owen did let him set traps for womp rats and other beasts to help put food on the table and to learn to fend for himself if he had to. Uncle Owen also taught him the basics of piloting a speeder in case there was ever an emergency. They lived far from town, and Luke had to know how to be okay if something bad were ever to happen.
At night, he was tucked into bed and learned about how his daddy was the first ever Skywalker who became a Free Man, and then how his Grandma Shmi became Free later too.
Luke learned a lot at night when he was tucked in by his auntie. Most of what he learned was a secret from Uncle Owen. Auntie Beru said that he didn’t want Luke learning about his history. Auntie said she disagreed because history was one of the only things a slave could own.
Their History, their Spirit, their Family, and their Name. A Master could never take those away no matter how beaten a Child in Chains is.
His bedtime stories were all the stories his auntie said that his grandma would tell him if she were still here.
He learned about slavery and auntie taught him what she knew about the language the slaves used to talk behind their masters’ backs. He learned that no matter how far away your family was, or what they had to do to survive, they were still family. The Desert Loves Her Children. Other than history, family was the only other thing a slave could have outside of themselves. A slave’s family could be taken away at any moment for any reason, and even if a slave didn’t know their family, or they had been stolen away, they never stopped loving them. It reminded Luke of his mommy. His uncle and auntie had no idea who she was, just that she was gone like Grandma Shmi. Luke loved her with all his heart.
Luke learned how he was the first ever Freeborn Child of the Desert in the Skywalker family, and that he should always be proud of that. His auntie made sure to tell him everything she knew about his daddy. Often times, Luke’s bedtime stories were about his daddy who won his freedom with the help of a Jedi and went away to become one. His daddy was really strong, too. Luke wanted to be a Jedi just like him.
He and Auntie Beru pinky promised that Luke would never breathe a word of Luke’s dream outside his room. The galaxy wasn’t safe for Jedi anymore, auntie told him. Bad men wiped them all out, and any that were left were forced to hide or fake their own deaths like slaves who freed themselves had to do. Luke wished on every star in the sky that his father escaped and was out there somewhere, waiting for Luke to find him.
Luke was also good at counting. He could count to five easily because Luke had five people that he loved with his whole heart. Uncle Owen, Auntie Beru, Grandma Shmi, his daddy, and his mommy. See? That’s five. And he thought of them every night before bed, and every morning when he got up.
One morning, he’d gotten up, said his ‘good morning’s to his family that couldn’t be with him, and went to help his auntie with breakfast.
There were strange men in the courtyard that Luke played in, and they were talking with Auntie and Uncle Owen about not having enough to pay the water tax, and that they'd need to be compensated another way.
Someone grabbed Luke from behind and he screamed. He knew who these people were. They were Jabba’s men. Slavers. They were going to take Luke away and there was nothing his auntie and uncle could do about it.
Luke cried.
The last time he saw his auntie and uncle was as he was being stolen away in his pajamas. His aunt was screaming and crying, and his uncle was being held back by four of the slavers.
He was the first Freeborn Skywalker.
He was also the first Freeborn Skywalker to be stolen and put in chains.
When Luke arrived at Jabba’s palace, he didn’t really know it at first. He wasn’t allowed to look anywhere but his own feet or the ground in front of them. The first time he looked anywhere but down, Luke learned the burn of a whip.
He did his best to never look anywhere but down after that. That wasn’t his place anymore.
He was taken through the front entrance and forced through winding hallways that seemed to go on forever before entering what Luke assumed was a large room full of people. Luke didn’t dare raise his head to look. Looking around is what people did, and Luke wasn't considered a person now. Luke couldn’t look around even if he knew deep inside he was still a person.
“Mighty Jabba, we regret to inform you that the Lars’ couldn’t find it in their hearts to scrounge up your more than generous water tax,” It was the leader of the group of slavers that stole him, “However, we couldn’t let that stand so, your Illustriousness, we’ve brought you compensation. A gift.”
The leader planted his huge foot on Luke’s back and kicked him forwards. He flailed forwards and fell to his knees. Everyone around the room laughed at his fall, and he couldn’t stop the embarrassed flush that crawled across his cheeks.
Luke listened from his spot on the floor as Jabba (Master Jabba, he corrected) spoke some other language. When he had finished, the clear sound of a droid filled the throne room.
“Mighty Jabba says that he has very specific interests, and he is not interested in keeping runts,” Luke wasn’t sure what Jabba’s- Master Jabba’s “specific interests” were or what that meant. He didn’t think he wanted to find out.
“Of course, your Excellency. We just wanted to bring you something from that hovel so the trip wasn’t a complete waste of your valuable time.”
Jabba- Master. Master Jabba hummed. There was a long pause before he spoke again, but the slavers didn’t feel very nervous. They'd done their job. They felt more satisfied than nervous. Luke, however, was absolutely terrified. Only being allowed to look at the ground didn’t seem like such a bad thing anymore.
“Mighty Jabba thanks you for your consideration. He says that after some thought, he believes that his beloved son is reaching an age where he should have a whipping boy to entertain himself. It shall be his birthday present,” The protocol droid informed.
Jabba didn’t say anything else, but Luke figures he must have made some sort of silent command because soon someone from beside Jabba was stepping forwards, grabbing the back of Luke’s shirt and lifting him to his feet and dragging him down a different doorway from where they had entered with one large hand wrapped around Luke’s tiny, fragile wrists.
Luke prayed to whoever was out there for the man to not decide he felt like breaking his wrists.