Subject: Palpatine (With non-explicit references to Anakin/Palpatine.)
Disclaimer: Star Wars and all its characters are property of Lucasfilm Ltd. No copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Written for Wendy's birthday. Beta read by the brave Luthe.
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Emperor Palpatine awoke to the gloom of his bedchambers. The boy still slept soundly beside him. Feeling inexplicably uneasy, Palpatine stood and shrugged on a dressing robe. The Imperial Palace was cold, but Palpatine preferred his home to reflect the dark side. His opulent rooms contained almost every luxury known to the galaxy, but the priceless works of art and the technological amusements held no interest for him. He padded towards his panoramic window and tried to focus on what had woken him from his night's repose.
The second Death Star. Palpatine did not look forward to visiting the Death Star. He sensed something troubling, something elusive, connected to it. His old Master would have laughed and told him to keep his mind on the present, but Palpatine could not shake his trepidation. He surveyed Coruscant's ecumenopolis though his window and admired its glitter under the starless sky. His Empire. His safe, secure, galaxy-spanning Empire.
Perhaps visiting the Death Star would do Palpatine good. A Sith Lord should not be so content.
The boy stirred on the bed, making sleepy incoherent noises. Palpatine faced him. The damp sheets clung to the boy's bronzed skin, his long legs hidden beneath their folds. The boy stared at Palpatine from his pillow. He said nothing, but Palpatine did not expect him to. Palpatine could see fear in the boy's blue eyes. No matter how gently he touched the boys, or how sweetly he spoke to them when he touched them, the fear never faded. Even before his face had been ruined, they had feared him. Only one boy had ever looked at him without fear, and that boy was long dead.
Anakin. Palpatine sat down on an ornate armchair and thought of the Jedi's Chosen One. They had apparently Chosen the wrong One. How beautiful Anakin had been in the Sith's moment of victory, still flushed from the exertion of slaughtering the Jedi. He had paid his obeisance to Palpatine, promised his fealty, his love, all for a woman easily removed from the picture.
Palpatine's chest twinged when he thought of Anakin. How warm Anakin's skin had once felt under his fingers, how luminescent his eyes looked after sex, how soft his lips had been, how incredible he had felt when Palpatine had taken him. Anakin had died on Mustafar, murdered by Obi-Wan Kenobi. Palpatine could have suffered the loss of Anakin's beauty, but Kenobi had stolen more than that—he had stolen every good part of Anakin. Kenobi had burned Anakin's love away. In place of warm skin lay cold syntheleather, in place of blue eyes and soft lips sat a death's head mask. In place of Anakin Skywalker stood Darth Vader.
Darth Vader had his uses, and Palpatine would not begrudge him. Maul and Tyranus had their uses, too, but their uses had expired. Vader lasted longer than any of them, but now the last grains of sand poured to the bottom of his hourglass.
Palpatine would mourn Vader's passing, but not as much as he mourned Anakin's. He clenched his fists and thought of Obi-Wan Kenobi. He hoped Vader had made him suffer before killing him on the first Death Star. He only wished he could have done it himself. What sort of monster could cut off the limbs of a man he called brother, a man he claimed to love, and leave him to burn alive? The Jedi called Sith Lords monsters, but Palpatine would never hurt anyone he loved. And Palpatine had loved Anakin.
Sweet, fierce, compassionate, angry Anakin. Palpatine walked over to the boy and stroked his hair. It felt nothing like how Anakin's had. It was too thin, too soft. Palpatine lifted his hand. He would let the boy sleep, then kill him in the morning, just as he had with all the other boys. He preferred to do it just before they woke up, so they never knew what happened.
He would have to find another boy soon. He already knew exactly who he wanted as his new heir. This boy would be everything Palpatine craved, undamaged, beautiful, powerful. He would fulfill Anakin's lost destiny.
On the Death Star, Palpatine would take Luke Skywalker for his own. No doubt the challenge of seducing Luke caused Palpatine's unease. Luke had been corrupted by Kenobi's Jedi ideals, just as Anakin had been. Once Luke turned—and he would—he would love Palpatine as Anakin once had. And Palpatine would love him.
Palpatine closed his eyes and let his consciousness drift towards the dark side of the Force. Great changes lay on the horizon. Clearly, Luke Skywalker was meant to usher in a new era.