He knows his path is already set before him, knows it better than anyone else. There's a mantra Mom and Dad always tell him as they put him to sleep, as they tuck him under the covers and brush his hair away from his eyes. "You're our pride," they tell him. "You are strong. You will follow our footsteps. Be proud."
Roanoke is his parents' pride, but he is never their joy. They tell him he's strong, and yet frowns at his gentle hands and gentle heart and gentle mind. He accepts their demand of following their footsteps, because he knows that there is nothing else for him but this. He should be proud, but he isn't.
He accepts his parents' words with a quiet grace, but his heart rejects them. There is nothing wrong with kindness. There is strength in gentleness. But they path they have laid for him has no use for such softness, and Roanoke, ever the diligent son, knows that he can do nothing but obey.
He learns his letters, his numbers, his tactics and strategies. He learns from Dad the ways to fly a ship, to hit a target where it hurts the most or where it grants a swift death. He learns from Mom the art of subterfuge, of espionage, of ways to break bones while naming them. He learns from Mom and Dad the essence of loyalty, of devotion, and the consequences of betraying their masters' trust. Even if he's to be a meager soldier or pilot, they taught him all these things so he can be ready when he sets foot on the Academy.
Life throws him a curveball when he feels a spark of Light in the Darkness, of the Force calling him as Its own.
For the first time in his young life, Roanoke feels terrified. Utterly so. For while the Light is warm and kind and gentle and comforting, he knows that It will be twisted into something cold and cruel and merciless and heartbreaking. So he hides it, this Force-sensitivity, as best as he can, for as long as he can.
But how can he hide something so
His parents—proud, selfish, greedy, and extremely devoted to the Dark—throw him in the gnashing, biting, slavering mouths of ravenous wolves.