To Grasp the Stars
Summary: Betrayal. Slavery. Sacrifices. Love. A beloved Senator reduced to little more than a slave, a favor of the Emperor to be passed around among high officials, until the day Palaptine was succeeded by Lord Vader. No matter the circumstances, their love always finds them across the stars.
Author's Note: the song lyrics are from The Heroic Legend of Arslan, whose name I've taken for a character in this story. The gesture of grasping the sun is something Edward Elric does from Fullmetal Alchemist, my favorite story ever.
The Emperor's Hospitality
Darth Vader, Lord of the Sith stood over his former Master, Emperor Palpatine.
"You always underestimated me, my Master, that was your undoing. You intended to live forever, just like your own Master, Darth Plageius the Wise. How tragic for you. I've already seen to it that your clones were destroyed. I attended to that problem before I came here."
"My treacherous Apprentice, you're a fool, like you could bend the galaxy to your will?" Palpatine gasped as he felt his throat slowly constricting. He had almost defeated Lord Vader, but Vader had managed to endure a barrage of Force lightening that damaged his lungs and using his favorite Force technique, the Force choke, he was slowly suffocating him.
"Bending the galaxy to my will is easy; since I let you do all the tyrannical dirty work. I will be the hero, Lord Vader, vanquisher of the evil, tyrant Sheev Palpatine, savior of the Empire!"
Vader pinched his fingers together slowly, making sure his Master's suffering lasted as long as possible. Palpatine struggled, grasping vainly at his own throat, clawing at something that he couldn't see.
"When you forced me to join you I was but a learner, now I am the Master! I always viewed it as a curse, a turn of misfortune, but look at me now, his Imperial Majesty, Darth Vader!"
"The damage to my lungs is manageable, I will outlive you for many years to come, don't worry Master, you'll be a footnote in the Imperial history books."
Vader closed his fingers completely, he heard Sheev Palpatine's death rattle and sneered at the body.
"The galaxy belongs to me!" he proclaimed, stretching out his hands, taking in the Empire that belonged to him.
He called to the Red Guard, "Dispose of the body, get it out of my sight!" he commanded them.
"Yes, my Emperor," they replied. They dragged Palpatine's corpse away.
Vader quickly called for a medical droid, a quick examination of his lungs showed him that he would fully recover, but for the time being the droid suggested a portable respirator, the droid outfitted him with it, it had a vocabulator which Vader would take advantage of, the booming baritone would make him sound terrifying and the noise of his breathing would signal his arrival.
He smiled, the sniveling fools would underestimate him, think he was weak, he enjoyed it when people underestimated him.
Vader sat down at the desk, enjoying his newfound position as ruler of the galaxy. He'd have to prepare some statement of course, some plausible reason for Palpatine's death, assassinated by Force choke was not a great reason. He would pin it on the rebels, the dissidents of course, stating that he'd been off planet at the time of his death, tell of how the assassins had deceived the staff and guards and strangled the poor fragile Emperor to death in his own office.
The murderers had escaped and he would hunt them down, bringing them to "justice".
Mas Ameeda approached him, "My Emperor, Rush Clovis is here to see you."
"See him in," Vader scowled.
Rush Clovis entered the office, bowing stiffly. Vader approached him slowly, taking delibeate steps to establish dominance.
"Senator Clovis," he greeted the man, keeping his voice cool. "What brings you here."
"My Lord Vader," Clovis glanced at him nervously.
"Emperor Vader," Vader corrected sternly. "Palpatine is dead, rebels assassinated him."
"That's tragic, what will become of his palace and belongings?"
"They are mine as I am his successor," Vader stated, leaving no room for argument.
"I hope you will extend to us the same hospitality as your predecessor." He wanted Amidala, no matter what it took to get her, not that he loved her, he only wished to possess her, and the Emperor had always denied him that. Lord Vader was a novice in politics for all his mysterious powers, he could be easily manipulated.
"I will extend no such hospitality!" Vader snapped unexpectedly.
What? Did he not understand that keeping the Senate in line kept them from dissenting? He really was naïve.
"My Master might have tolerated the squabbling of the Senate, doling out favors and boons, but no longer, you'll have to earn my respect before I consider offering you "hospitality"."
"Very well my Emperor," Clovis bowed stiffly. I'll make you pay for this! She's mine!
Vader raised an eyebrow at him, "She? Who is she?"
Clovis trembled nervously; he couldn't hide his thoughts from Vader. He couldn't lie to him either.
"She's former Senator Padmé Amidala, she serves as a…mistress to Imperial officials," he explained quickly.
"Was she Mistress to Sheev?" he queried. His anger built. Of all the privileges he'd obtained as Supreme Commander, he'd never once seen or heard of the "Emperor's Hospitality" it was a clever bribe, she must be beautiful for his Master to use her as a tool to keep the mewling fools happy. But where was his reward for all his service? Had he ever been given such a privilege? No, he hated that sniveling politicians had something he didn't, no one was to deny him anything, especially now.
He relished taking the squabblers pretty new toy from them, especially Rush Clovis, he wanted nothing more than to strangle the man, but he hadn't found a plausible excuse yet.
"No my Emperor, she wasn't. The Emperor had little interest in physical pleasures. But he would reward our loyalty—"
"Enough, now leave Clovis, it seems your business is unimportant, if you wish you may buy her from me." Vader smirked.
"There's no way I can possibly do that, not for all the wealth on Scipio, it's too much!"
"Just how much?" Vader shrugged.
"One billion Imperial Credits, no one has that much, even me!"
"I have a billion Imperial Credits, how unfortunate for you, she belongs to me already," he strode back to the desk. "Guards, please escort Senator Clovis out."
Clovis bowed stiffly. He would have Amidala, he wouldn't let the petulant Emperor take something that was his, it would be a long game, but he was going to win.
Padmé Naberrie managed to stare up at the artificial sunlight that shone down on her. How long had it been since she'd seen real sunlight? A decade at least.
She reached out her hand to the ceiling, as if she could grasp the artificial sun in her hand, she clenched her fist.
Sheev Palpatine was a cruel man, to the denizens of the galaxy at large, he was the fragile benevolent dictator who'd dissolved the corrupt Galactic Republic, ushering in the glorious Galactic Empire.
It was a sham of course, the Senate was filled with sycophantic beings that would do nothing but pass the Emperor's laws. They only cared about keeping their wealth, prestige and power.
The Empire was even more corrupt than the Republic, Moffs and politicians everywhere, squabbling for their piece of the galaxy.
The Empire was intolerant of disorder; they stamped out every spark of rebellion wherever it flared up.
Padmé had kept her head down, been a good Senator, she'd even refused to engage in "things she couldn't talk about", but the Emperor had dragged her from her home, from her bed, and forced her to become one of his personal slaves.
He'd tortured her personally after she'd arrived at his personal palace, .the Jedi Temple of all places! She'd been stunned he'd turned it into his personal home, but why not? He was an evil Sith wasn't he? What better trophy was there?
She recalled the agony of Force Lightening, how she'd never felt such horrible pain in the entire universe. But that had only been the beginning; the Emperor had enjoyed testing his newest interrogation droids on her, cackling with glee as she screamed in agony.
Then the forced spice addiction, then the "guests" came, "engaged" themselves with her; that was what the Imperial scum called sex now. The Imperials would give her "offers", threats if she refused them. They would "take what they deserved" from her, flowery terms for rape. Of course, they were always told she had consented to see them. A clever lie when the altered space inhibited her speech and motor functions, but not her mind, her mental capacity was fully there and she was completely aware of what was happening around her.
She was known among high ranking Imperial officials as "the Emperor's hospitality".
Sex slaves were hardly a new thing, Moff Delian Mors was widely known to "engage" her female slaves on Ryloth, they just painted over it with flowery language to tone it down, she often called her slaves "servants". Like it made a difference what they were called, slaves were slaves.
She shook her head, so many unwanted memories. Especially…Clovis…why? She had loved him once, but he'd never forgiven her for breaking off their relationship. That his love for her turned to hate so easily made Padmé wondered if Clovis had loved her at all.
Ever the opportunist, Clovis licked the Emperor's boots once Palpatine had formed the Galactic Empire.
He'd taken full advantage of her drugged state, and he was worse, he gloated over her, saying she deserved what he did to her because she was a traitor.
Padmé sighed sadly.
"Mother? Mother are you all right?" Arslan asked.
She turned to glance down at her son, he was the son of Rush Clovis, he didn't exist to the rest of the galaxy, Clovis had offered the Emperor unlimited access to money if he would make his "indiscretion" disappear. Padmé had begged him to legitimize her son, so he could have a life outside of slavery in the Empire. Her pleas fell on deaf ears.
And so Arslan grew up in the Imperial Palace, surrounded by greed, corruption, intrigue and scheming.
"I could ask you the same question," she gave him a lopsided grin as she wiped the blood off her son's mouth. "You got in a fight with an Imperial boy. So, who was he?"
"Some Senator's son," he scowled. "He called you a whore."
"If I were, I would actually be paid, and if only I were paid!" she tried to laugh. She wanted to laugh to keep from crying.
"Mother, don't say that!" he sighed. "It's awful!"
"I know son, I know. I'm only paid for my work during the day. My…evenings are not part of my wages."
"You always fight them mother," Arslan smirked, "Everyone here is awful, aren't they?"
"Yes, they are," Padmé whispered softly.
"Then may the gods strike all of them dead!"
"Arslan! Quiet!" she scolded him. He'd gotten through one beating, he didn't need another.
"You, come to the main hall! The Emperor has arrived!"
"So evil Palpy didn't forget us," Arslan glared.
Palpatine hadn't just restricted pain and suffering to his mother, he endured the interrogation droids and Force Lightening just as often as she did.
He hated all of them, but his mother had raised him well, and he had learned that politicians were good at hiding who they really were from others, he'd done his best to hide his hatred behind a guise of obedience and submission.
"Just keep your head down and be a good boy," Padmé instructed quickly.
They headed into the main hall and gathered with all the slaves in Palpatine's palace. There must be some big important event happening, gatherings like this occurred quite often.
Psdmé hated big events, banquets, parties, it always meant she would have to work, and not just serving tables, no it meant she would have to kriff various Imperial officials; she rarely got to sleep on those nights and was expected to do a full day of work the next day.
"Kneel before your Emperor, you dogs! Down on one knee!" the steward commanded them. They all did as they were told.
Padmé heard it, an ominous sound, breathing; the hard, harsh noise sent a chill down her spine.
That wasn't Palpatine, it was someone else. The elusive Lord Vader, slaves had seen him come and go, but no one ever saw his face.
"My predecessor, Emperor Palpatine is dead, I am now your Lord and Master, to celebrate the life of Sheev Palpatine we'll have a day of mourning and a feast for the highest Imperial Officers and Moffs."
Stars no, not again, Padmé inwardly cringed She stilled suddenly; she saw Lord Vader's eyes looking over all of them.
It was going to be a long night.
Padmé sat in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, it had been a place of meditation for the Jedi if she remembered correctly.
She kissed Arslan's forehead as she began to sing him a song in her native Naboo tongue. It wasn't a known to her people it was something she'd made up for him, he didn't know what it meant, but it was about despair and loss, something she knew very well.
These aren't my words
If the whole world only had left hands
Don't be the bastards who hide their right hands
There is nothing beyond this azure
They realized that, stopped looking up at the sky
In the bottomless swamp, look, there's a bottom
In a town growing even more tainted, even now
Even if you just tried to breathe the air
You'd end up breathing in the bad stuff, too
All is well
Losing, and leaving
Stuff that's unbearable
We lived trying to keep our hands free of things,
But in these hands
You are friend, baby, dream
Before I knew it, in my heart
Was full of things, I had to love all the way
All is well
And losing, leaving
Even the unbearable stuff
Because I don't want to live my days
Lamenting, unable to keep them safe
You are friend, baby, dream
I'll grow even stronger
These aren't my words
But our words
She watched him drift off to sleep; she carried him back to their room. Putting him to bed, she returned to the Room of a Thousand Fountains. She splashed water on her face.
She glanced around, no one was there, she began to disrobe to bathe, someone had occupied the 'fresher and she wasn't about to run all over the Imperial palace in search of one.
She hadn't thought to look up or she would have seen a hooded figure watching her.
So this is the woman Rush Clovis covets, interesting. She was beautiful, perhaps a little old for his personal tastes, but he did enjoy the company of women, not often, but he would indulge in pleasure if he wished.
He could order her to go to bed with him, but where would the fun be in that? He wanted Rush Clovis to squirm. What would be better than seducing the object of his desire? Clovis would always claim that Padmé, he believed that was her name, had gone to bed with the Emperor of the galaxy because she was ordered to, not because she wanted to.
This would be amusing, but she had a child, how unfortunate, the boy did bear a strong resemblance to Clovis, but would the Senator use that to his advantage, claiming that Vader took Amidala the boy would be his heir not Vader's?
Politicians, he hated them, many of his advisors were suggesting he take a "tutor", someone to teach him politics. He hated appeasing them, but he had always been the enforcer, he wasn't one to deal with the politicians often.
And he would not show weakness to the squabblers by being inept at their games.
"Lord Speaker, have you given thought to the councilors' advice about a political tutor?"
"Yes, my Emperor," Mas Amedda replied. "I would highly recommend the former Senator Padmé Amidala. She was quite powerful in the Galactic Senate, her moral authority and fierce physical courage caused many to admire her."
"Oh, I admire her," Vader purred softly. "But will she not extol the virtues of the corrupt Republic; she was a staunch defender of it."
"We shall forbid her from speaking of it, unless you wish to hear of it," Ameeda conceded.
"Very well," Vader said, "Leave me be, Lord Speaker."
He continued to gaze down at the unsuspecting woman, she would be his no doubt, and the horror on Rush Clovis' face would be something for him to savor. No one stole from him, ever.
The galaxy was his, everything was his.