Ascending into Darkness

Part One: Chapter One

"Light thinks it travels faster than anything but it is wrong. No matter how fast light travels, it finds the darkness has always got there first, and is waiting for it." - Pratchett

65 Years BBY

Intoxicated laughter mingled with the slurred promises of politicians and royals alike as the drink did its job, adding courage to the otherwise timid and vocalization to beliefs that, under a sober mind, would have been kept silent. Palpatine struggled to repress his feelings of utter disgust at the blubbering idiots in charge of governing the small world of Naboo. In his opinion, none possessed the presence of mind to correctly lead their underwear to their bottoms, let alone lead a planet to the future.

His father, of course, sat on the throne of incapability and tonight he wore his crown shamelessly as he drug his son through the thick throng of nobles, greeting each one and- to the disgruntlement of many of his guests- encouraging the young Palpatine to do the same. No doubt this was yet another attempt to smooth over the latest embarrassment of his sons near expulsion from the university.

Pathetic. As if any of those men would ever accept Cosinga's have thought out excuses and weak bribery as the truth. The younger Palpatine would never meet expectations, no matter how many credits his father threw out to assure otherwise.

As if finally catching on to the displeasure of the others, the senior Palpatine pulled his son to the corner of the parlor, returning nods and smiles all the while. When the two were far enough away that he needn't fear being overheard, he dropped the façade and let his truer, colder nature seep through. "You've served your purpose for tonight. It's time for you to go."

Palpatine smirked, "Go? This is my home as well father."

"I just bought you a new speeder. Why don't you make use of it," Cosinga said, pausing to shake the hand of the director of Theed's Festival of Arts.

"There's nowhere to go," Palpatine exhaled, impatiently. "How about this: I stay right here and meander about the room, keeping to myself, refusing to speak with any of your cronies."

Cosinga glared down at his son, his teeth grinding as he fought back the words pressing at his lips. "Fine," he resigned. "But if I hear even the slightest whisper that you've stirred up trouble, I swear I will-"

"Why, hello Governor! It is a pleasure to see you this evening." The young Palpatine said with a nod. His smile stayed firmly in place as he turned his attention back to his father, who was now a deep shade of crimson. "Now, what is it that you were saying father? I was distracted."

"We'll discuss it later," he said, fuming. He shot Palpatine a look that said it was time to disappear and, not a second later, the benevolent mask of the night's host was set in place once more. Palpatine gave another nod to Veruna, and then turned away to melt into the shadows, smiling inwardly at his own private success.

*X*x*X*x*X*x*

The music thrummed and the lights from the Zero G dance floor flashed and, as the night wore on, bodies pressed closer together, making Palpatine wish he had opted to leave when he had the chance. The hired entertainment his father had purchased for this evening was provided by one of the chief entertainment advisers of Ryloth. As such, the "escorts" of the evening were comprised of an odd assortment of Twi'leks, scantily clad in costumes that would almost make the cantina dancers on Mos Eisley blush.

So much for a quaint, sophisticated gathering, Palpatine thought.

He smiled and accepted a drink from one of the servants' platters and sipped while he searched through the crowd for a point of interest. The dancers on the stage had turned into thespians, which were now reenacting some exaggerated tale of the life of one of Naboo heroes. The show was bland; no artistic flare had been added to enrich the fabricated romance or to stimulate the nonexistent action into a suitable substitute for a climax. None of the actors had any skill, each slipping out of character more often than they were in it, breaking the illusion and making it impossible to decipher exactly who was who in the maelstrom of theatrical debauchery.

Obviously the rest of the crowd was either too bland to catch on or too drunk to care, for every few seconds a great applause would fill the room followed by whistles and cries for an encore.

Palpatine was about to slip out to the balcony, when the space around him grew quiet. Confused, he turned back to the stage, in hopes that one of the low budget actors had fallen and broken something- preferably his neck- when his eyes caught the source of wonder. The scene had changed to portray the legendary meeting between Kwilaan and his bride, who was one of the few humans on Naboo at the end of the Sith Civil War, and who helped Kwilaan to colonize the planet, turning it in to the haven of art and culture that it was known for today.

The bride of Kwilaan, or rather the woman who portrayed her, was not one of exceptional beauty, but rather the holder of a gentle grace that at that moment had captivated the minds of all within sight. She moved around him with slow, even steps. Twirling, her hands above her head, eyes closed, seemingly entranced by the beating of the Karmova drum.

The crowd leaned in closer, perhaps surprised at the sudden twist in the story, or perhaps they were entranced by something else all together, either way Palpatine was impressed. Not so much by her performance, which, he had to admit, was extraordinary, but by the solid, constant pulse of something just beneath her skin.

It was power. The very same power that he himself possessed. The very power he knew that he could conjure.

Did she know? Palpatine made it a point to find out. He was pulled from his inner musings by the wild cheers of the guests, signaling the songs end and Palpatine found himself clapping along with the rest as he looked up at the two embracing lovers as they split apart and took their bows, catching the credits thrown their way in a large Toydarian sun hat.

His eyes followed the woman as she made her way to the back of the room just as the music picked back up and the dancers resumed their places on the dance floor, encouraging the younger politicians- or older, it really made no difference- to discard their dates and join them for some fun. Palpatine pushed his way to the archway where he saw her disappear. He noticed his father walking his way, surrounded by three of his most loyal conspirators and Palpatine swiftly turned and did his best to remain hidden by the shadows, hugging the wall.

The reason for his secrecy was all-in-all a mystery to him, but something deep within told the young Palpatine that he should proceed with caution. He had never been the patient type, but he was determined to sit and wait this woman out- provided that she didn't take too long.

Palpatine was just on the verge of bursting through the arch door when he finally saw her reappear into the central room, changed into the clothing of a Naboo commoner.

I guess her shift is over. Palpatine was searching his mind for the proper way to approach her when the woman abruptly turned from the drink table and joined a large, brooding figure by the balcony door.

Palpatine took a moment to examine the man- a pale, bald, human with dark eyes and jagged black markings along scarred lips. His features softened somewhat when the woman approached, but the tension returned immediately when she pointed in the direction Cosinga and his allies had gone, mouthing something that Palpatine could not understand. The man nodded once and then headed off in the direction she had indicated, leaving the woman alone once more.

She looked around, and then slipped out the door overlooking the lake. Palpatine cast one last glance in the direction the muscle man had gone, and then he straightened his collar and went to find the lady whose blood coursed with power.

*X*x*X*x*X*x*

"I thought you would be heading this way," the woman said, not bothering to look over her shoulder. The wind had picked up, and Palpatine crossed his arms in an effort to stifle the chill he had acquired.

"I beg pardon," the young royal said, leaning against the railing beside her.

She turned to face him. "I saw you watching me."

"Oh?"

She nodded. "Or, rather, I felt you." Palpatine watched as she turned back to view the lake. "It was… unsettling."

Palpatine hid his smile well, as he unfolded his arms, and looked out at the churning of the water below as it struggled against the winds of the coming storm. "Is that so," he said. "In that case I offer you my sincerest apologies, I meant no harm."

"And yet you followed me out here, knowing that I would be alone and defenseless."

"You just said yourself that you knew I would be coming," he said. "If that is the case, then you would have had enough time to protect yourself against any unwanted advances."

"Yes, I know." She looked at him from the corner of her eye. "But you didn't. Which brings me to my first question: what is it you want?"

"You're name, for starters."

The woman paused, as if taken off guard. Palpatine noticed for the first time that she had been clutching something inside the pocket of her cloak. He narrowed his eyes, scorning himself for being so careless. Now that's unsettling, he thought.

"Myrah," she said. "And yours?"

"Palpatine."

Myrah looked shocked. "As in Cosinga Palpatine, the one who hired my troupe for the evening?"

Palpatine did not bother masking his disgust. "Hardly. I am his son."

The woman relaxed slightly, but he still noticed a bit of tension in the way she moved to face him fully. "I am sorry, but I think I should be going. It's not my practice to mingle with the paying guests. Otherwise the virtue behind my achieved success might be questioned, which would be very upsetting to me and my agent." She moved to step around him. "If you will excuse me…"

Palpatine surprised even himself with the speed in which his hand caught Myrah's arm. Her eyes grew wide and she opened her mouth to protest, but the young Palpatine released his grasp and bowed his head, displaying what he hoped passed for genuine embarrassment.

"Please, I…" he stammered, hunting for the right code of words. "Don't go," he said at last, straightening to his full height. "I give you my word that if any scandal comes from this meeting, I have the credits, as well as the influence, to make it go away."

She hesitated for a moment, then nodding at someone inside, Myrah returned to her place on the railing. Palpatine frowned, looking through the break in the curtain, and was displeased to find that the pale man from before was standing, back against the wall, with his eyes trained on the balcony door.

"You don't trust me," he stated.

"Not yet."

He smirked, not surprised. Palpatine attempted to peer into the mind of the young entertainer, but was taken aback when he hit a barrier head on.

So, she really does have some power after all.

"You had another question."

He blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"You asked my name, 'for starters'. What else is it, within reason, you wanted to know?"

"Ah," Palpatine said, placing a finger on the cleft of his chin. "Well, who is that enormous gentleman you keep motioning to?"

He saw her shoulders loosen as a tiny smile crept across her face. "Tobias."

Palpatine nodded. "Your lover?"

"No," Myrah said, shaking her head. "My partner." She paused for a moment, as if considering something, then, "my friend."

"Does he perform as well?"

"Not exactly."

"Then how is it you two work together?"

"Another job."

"And that is?"

Myrah cut her eyes at him, then returned her gaze back to the water again. "That is irrelevant."

"Forgive me." There was a moment of awkward shuffling as Palpatine worked through the proper way to approach this woman. In the end, he resorted to his most potent weapon: flattery.

"You danced beautifully up there. I don't mean to sound rash, but I couldn't take my eyes off you." He chuckled, softly, figuring that he sounded sincere enough. "But, of course, you knew that already."

"Thank you," she said. "I take the compliment to heart; I was not born a dancer." She paused. "As a matter of fact, it has only been within the past couple of years that I have acquired any sense of rhythm at all, let alone skill."

Palpatine's surprise was genuine. "I never would have guessed. You were brilliant." It was dark, but if he had to guess, Palpatine would say that the woman was blushing. "I can tell you love what you do."

"Well, it keeps me fed." There was another moment of silence; however, the stiffness in the air was starting to dissolve. "What about you? I'm not too familiar with Naboo customs, but do you work?"

"No, I am not employed. Being a member of Naboo's nobility, I have little want for money. Also, it is our custom that from the ages of twelve and twenty, that we must be involved in the Legislative Youth Program. I have three more years of involvement in the organization, after that, I will choose a career path."

"What is it that you wish to do?"

"Speeder racing," Palpatine said.

When he did not join in her laugher, the woman bowed her head and nodded, thoughtfully. "That sounds exciting. I've always been too scared to drive a speeder, let alone race one. I applaud you for that much."

"Have you ever visited Naboo before?"

"No, I have not. But I wish that I had; it's beautiful here. Also, my other job requires me to know a great deal about the landscape of the area, but I'm afraid I am clueless to my surroundings."

"I can show you around, if you'd like," Palpatine said. And you can show me to what extent your powers flow, not to mention explain to me why your partner had his eyes set on my father.

Myrah looked at him and from the dim light of the cloud covered moons and he noticed that her eyes were the same pale blue as his own. "I would like that, actually. Thank you."

"My pleasure."

The woman gave him a look that Palpatine read as cautiousness mingled with curiosity. "Palpatine," she said. "That is only the cognomen. If I may ask, what is your first name?"

Palpatine sighed and, feigning distress, turned morosely to look out at the now still waters below. "That is irrelevant," he said.

Myrah laughed out loud. "Will your identity forever be a mystery?"

"Will yours," the young royal said, a brow raised.

Myrah nodded, "We shall see what the future holds."

"So we shall."

The woman had opened her mouth to speak when the balcony's door slammed open and, in the threshold, stood a much taller, older, and angrier version of Palpatine himself.

"To your quarters," Cosinga barked. "Now." The senior Palpatine's eyes moved from the actress to his son and his skin turned redder as he prepared a verbal tirade. The younger Palpatine squared his shoulders, ready to strike back when from behind his father stepped a fairly attractive, blue skinned Twi'lek male.

"Excuse me sir," he said in fluent basic. "But if you don't mind, I must remove Myrah from your presence. She is needed for the night's clean-up."

Cosinga, nodded curtly, and moved aside to allow the woman to sweep past, after which she was pulled away by the arm and disappeared again into the dissipating crowd. Cosinga's eyes found his son once more and, when he did, his hands balled into fists. Anger surged through him, the likes of which required all his discipline not to strike his eldest, then and there.

"Your quarters," he repeated. "And stay there."

*X*x*X*x*X*x*

Palpatine sat in front of the floor length window in his private room, his back against the wall, arms folded, with his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. He was watching the night's entertainers load their equipment in the back of a large travel taxi. Palpatine felt, more than saw, the young woman from that evening. Due to the strength of her psychic barriers, Palpatine was unable to send any real message. Therefore, he compensated and lowered his own natural defenses, in hopes that she would notice his skyward presence.

Sure enough, a moment later he saw one of the figures pause, then look up in the direction of his chamber window. Palpatine lifted his hand splayed his fingers in what could pass as a wave. He couldn't be entirely certain, but he believed she did the same.

Outside his door he heard the distinct clamor of his father's boots storming in his direction. Palpatine stood, slowly, and went to seat himself on the edge of the bed. As he predicted, not a full minute passed until his door was thrown open and Cosinga entered, following close behind by Palpatine's timid, brainless mother, who other than his red hair, Palpatine owed nothing.

"I thought we had agreed that tonight you were to become a shadow."

Palpatine's face flushed in anger. "I stayed away from your precious assistants," he said.

"Who was that woman you were speaking to," Cosinga demanded.

"The woman who portrayed lady Kwilaan," Palpatine said, letting his irritation show. "What is it to you?"

"Have you spoken with her before tonight," his father said, ignoring his son's question."

"No." Now, I'm curious.

"What about any of her colleagues? Any one she is familiar with?"

"No," Palpatine said. What are you hiding?

His father seemed to relax a little, but the anger had not yet abated. "It would be in your best interest, if I never find out otherwise."

With that, the elder Palpatine swiftly turned and left his son's chamber, nearly knocking his small wife down in his rush to exit. Palpatine vocalized his disgust with a barely disguised scoff, and then he kicked off his boots, and pulled his tunic over his head, throwing it on the floor before pulling his covers back and settling in to bed.

He watched for a moment as his mother looked from the door, then to her son, and then back to the door again before he finally said, "Go follow him mother. You know you always will."

His mother looked at him and, for the briefest of moments, he thought her afraid. "You know your father..." she began.

"Spare me the scripted condolences. You've never cared anything for my welfare, no different than your husband." Palpatine leaned back onto his pillow, crossing his arms behind his head. "Now, go tend to your other children. I'm sure my little brothers and sisters are ready for bed."

He watched the elder woman stiffen her lip and nod curtly as she left his room. Palpatine lifted a hand over his bedside sensor and the door closed automatically. He sat there for a long while, fuming, before removing one of the antique vases from the shelf above his bed and, with all the strength he could muster, hurled it at the closed door, imagining the shattered pieces of glass to be the broken bones of his cold hearted father.

One of the cleaning droids rolled into the room, moving and sweeping up the mess until Palpatine threw another vase, which smashed against the little droid's head. The droid whirled around, beeped agitatedly, did one last sweep, and then flew out of the room, chirping all the while.

Palpatine sighed, extinguished the light, and then lay down, surrendering himself to the dark embrace of his dreams.

*X*x*X*x*X*x*

Frozen.

His heart beat dangerously slow, the feat of survival too much effort to pursue. Palpatine fell to the ground. Warm copper filled his mouth. He spit it onto his hands rubbing them together in hopes of nurturing the frost bite.

It was then that he realized it was blood.

Above him came the deep, guttural laughter of a living, breathing shadow.

The likes of which Palpatine could never be.

The shadow possessed power. Radiated power.

The likes of which Palpatine could never have.

He heard crackling, smelled the stench of burning flesh.

His world became fire. Cold fire. Icy flames.

He saw blue. Then yellow.

Yellow eyes.

He saw yellow eyes.

Then he saw nothing.

Palpatine awoke, trembling. His hair plastered to his forehead. He looked at the clock, rolled his eyes, and then fell back asleep. That was why he hated dreams.

*X*x*X*x*X*x*

Palpatine had not spoken to the woman since his father's gathering for the nobles at the Lake House three days prior, but something was telling him that today would be the day that they would meet again, and with any luck, he would discover more about the power lurking within and just how similar it was to his own.

He was finishing up his conversation with his mentor, Vidar Kim. The two walked through the square, somewhat rushed for time as Kim had been recalled to the senate just that morning.

Palpatine could not shake the feeling that he was being watched. He made sure to nod and acknowledge what Kim was saying at the appropriate junctures, but his eyes continually scanned the crowd in the square for the source of his discomfort. I guess this is what that actress was talking about.

Eventually Kim and Palpatine said their goodbyes and after watching the elder man make his way to the taxi that would take him to Naboo's space port, he turned to see a tall, lanky Muun whom he immediately identified as Magister Hego Damask approaching, less than a meter away.

I don't have time for this, Palpatine thought as he turned sharply and headed the opposite way to the square's exit.

"Young human," he heard the Muun call after him, sounding closer than before. Palpatine sped up, determined to reach his speeder before he had to exchange pleasantries with the likes of this creature.

"Palpatine!"

Palpatine slowed his stride until he had, despite his better instincts, come to a stop just meters from the stone arch of the square. The youth sighed and, reluctantly, turned to face him.

"How do you know my name?"

Author's Note:

Well there you have it! The first chapter to a rather extensive story that has been pressing on my mind for years.
Some of you may notice that the last segment has been taken, in part, form the novel Darth Plagueis.

What does this mean?
It means that through the course of this story we will get a deeper insight into the life of young Palpatine and, hopefully, some possible answers will be received to the questions that plague us. (No pun intended.)

What went on during those 11 years of apprenticeship? What was his relationship really like with his family, before the Massacre of House Palpatine? What was his given name before he cast it aside?
The list goes on and on and on...

I hope you enjoyed reading this half as much as I enjoyed writing it!
The adventure is far from over, so if I may, I invite you to hope along for the ride and I promise, I will always strive not to dissappoint you!

Feel free to drop a REVIEW. It is much appreciated it helps to push things along!