disclaimer: Star Wars and all recognizable characters, places, and things therein are not mine. No money was made from the writing of this story.
rating / warnings: M / Graphic Depictions of Violence, Torture, Dismemberment, Sex
relationships: Bail/Breha
characters: Bail Organa, Breha Organa, Malothar Morieen, Vine (Clone), some other OCs.
notes: This story has been in the works since the summer, and has been in my mind for much longer than that. It's not done yet, but I'm a good 15k in (when I started it I was like "It'll just be like 10k or so"...yeah, lol), and I'm getting to the point where I really want some feedback on it to keep me going. So, I'm posting the prologue. I hope you enjoy - and I hope you'll let me know what you think!
DOLOR PRINCIPI
or
A World of Fire and Blood
PROLOGUE
Chancellor Sheev Palpatine stands with his back to his desk, hands locked behind him, and stares out of the windows and at the low-hanging clouds threatening rain. His heart churns within him, a roiling pit of vipers.
The galaxy hangs on a knife's edge—and he can feel it.
Not for the first time in the last few months does Palpatine close his eyes and listen to the Force. It screams and wails at him, a hundred thousand voices all vying for his attention, his ears, his mind. Listen, they scream. Listen, listen, listen…
He listens.
He hears a baby's pitiful cries.
He hears a man's mechanical breathing.
He hears blastershots.
He hears three billion voices all crying out as one.
He hears a woman he knows speaking to a man he does not.
Palpatine opens his eyes, and finds his nails digging crescents into the palms of his hands.
Those same six images—or, rather, hearings—have plagued him for years, ever since his plans to take over the galaxy blossomed and became fully formed. He understood none of them then—and still, though he refuses to admit this even to himself, does not understand most of them now.
The only thing he does know for certain is that the woman, Padmé Amidala, has something to do with whether or not his plans will succeed or fail—as does the man. The man who Palpatine had not known even existed, except as a concept, until three months ago, when Bail Organa announced his candidacy for the Alderaanian Senatorial race.
Palpatine had been in his office, a news channel turned on on his viewscreen as he worked. A thunderstorm had been lashing the windows behind him, creating a soft, melodic counterpoint to the droning of the news anchor's voice in the background. Then, very suddenly, Palpatine's head had shot up, his ears ringing, his blood thundering.
The voice he had only ever heard in his Force visions rang out from the viewscreen, large and loud and terribly, terribly real.
He looked up, to see Prince Bail Organa of Alderaan—a man he had been tangentially aware of as an entity, if not as a living, breathing being—standing behind a podium on a platform outside of the palace in Aldera. The sun was bright there, shining down on his dark hair and dark eyes, making his olive skin glow.
"My uncle has requested that I take his place as Senator of Alderaan," Prince Bail Organa of Alderaan was saying. "I will honor his wishes—just as I will honor the wishes of my people of Alderaan, if I am elected as Senator."
A great cheer went up from the crowd watching the Prince's speech, even as the screen switched back to the anchor in the studio. "As we can see, Prince Bail Organa, husband to Queen Breha II, has added his name to the list of candidates for this fall's senatorial race on Alderaan. His uncle, Bail Antilles IV, Alderaan's current Senator, has come forward to state that he endorses his nephew, who he hopes will replace him at next year's Senate—"
Palpatine had turned off the viewscreen and stood abruptly, all work forgotten. He had searched in vain for years for the man whose voice he had first heard in dreams. Now, very suddenly, he found himself come into nearly direct contact with him—or, he would, if Bail Organa was elected Senator.
Somehow, he suspected he would.
A knock comes at the door, shaking Palpatine out of his reverie. Palpatine turns and calls, "Come in." His aide enters.
"Yes?" Palpatine snaps, unhappy to be broken from his thoughts.
"You asked to know the results of Alderaan's Senatorial race," says the boy.
"And?" Palpatine asks, fighting to keep his temper from boiling over.
"Prince Bail Organa won."
"Very well," Palpatine says, and motions for the boy to leave. He does so, closing the door behind him.
So, thinks Palpatine, the players continue to fall into place.
But was this a good thing, or a bad one? Would Bail Organa cement his place in the galaxy, or would he tear it down?
Could he leave such things to chance?
No, Palpatine decides, just as he had decided every time before. No, I cannot. This man is dangerous. The Force is not with him, but it screams around him. He holds the balance to the galaxy's future in the palm of his hand—or, at least, one of the balances. Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker, and Padmé Amidala hold others.
Palpatine grinds his teeth. The old adage, "Keep your friends close but your enemies closer" comes to mind.
But will this man be friend or foe?
Palpatine shakes his head. It does not matter. Regardless, Bail Organa must die. Only his death will ensure that he does not interfere with Palpatine's plans.
Yes. Bail Organa must die, and soon.
end notes: So, what did you think? I hope you'll let me know! Next chapter will (hopefully) be on the way in the next week or so, and is MUCH longer than the prologue. I miiiight be persuaded to update sooner than that, though. ;) So let me know what you thought!