Head tilted back, he surveyed the stars. The sky was black this night, just as he preferred. Darkness, perfect but for scintillating pinpricks of light. In the Force he could see them all, billions of stars and gas clouds birthing more. A galaxy in the palm of his hand.
Of greatest interest to him were the inhabited planets, satellites, and asteroids that orbited a fraction of these stars. Some beings, thirsting for adventure, dreamed of visiting them all. One had set his ambitions higher: to own them all.
Already he was their leader, but his power over them was limited for the time being by the Senate, the Constitution, and local governments. For now he was the spider patiently weaving his web in the shadows, a web that would encompass the galaxy and reduce all worlds to possessions, his to do with as he pleased.
On the matter of possessions...
The newest and most beautiful member of the Senate stood beside him on the balcony, contemplating the stars with him. He knew the questions she refrained from asking.
She behaved this way with no other. He alone had the ability to keep her silent.
He did not need to see her face with his eyes or her mind with the eyes of the dark side to know her thoughts. He knew her so deeply after nine years of working closely together in pursuit of what she believed to be the political dream they held in common. Of course, what they really worked for was the actualization of his dream, of which hers would be a casualty.
His dream was her worst nightmare.
Anticipation curved his lips and made his eyes glitter. Anticipation of what, if she knew! She had no idea how little she wanted to know the true answers to the questions in her mind. How painful the satisfaction of her curiosity would be.
Not yet, however.
"I was thinking about the future," he murmured.
Her only response was a blink of her eyes, which, as she wasn't facing him, he could not have perceived with the senses of a mere human. He would have presumed her mind to be absent, but he knew her better than that. She was simply content to let him dominate the conversation; she always had been. It made her presence tolerable. With others she was outspoken and opinionated, wielding words as adeptly as other types of weapons. To be silent was against her nature. It was only to him that she preferred to listen, aware that he knew her thoughts, though she could not fathom how.
Foolish beings like her craved to be understood and found it irresistibly charming when someone seemed to read their thoughts. But there was one thing dear Padmé found still more charming: when someone appeared to share her innermost convictions and her heart's desire for peace and prosperity for all beings.
The desire he had promised they would turn into reality together as they had faced one another in victory, and what fire, what self-sacrificing devotion these words had ignited in her heart. Her eyes had betrayed her that day as she had been unable to look away from him, engulfed in his trap down to her very soul.
Eight years thenceforth, she had grown to be as much of a master at concealing emotion as he was, but her talent was ever useless against him. He could sense all the feelings she masked... and playing with them was rather entertaining.
He slid one hand down her spine, resting it on her lower back. He stretched the other toward the sky. "Millions of populated star systems surround us," he remarked in his silkiest tones. "We will bring peace to all of them."
He knew without looking at her that his words had made the passion burn brighter within her. Nonetheless, he looked, for he had always possessed a taste for beauty. He allowed his gaze to feast on the lithe body clothed in purple velvet, and on the flawless symmetry of her face, enhanced by a jewel-incrusted headpiece imitating those that adorned statues of Naboo's fictional goddesses.
She met his stare boldly, her eyes shining with hope, trust, and reflected stars. Such a passionate creature, when one knew how to kindle the flames of her soul. This particular secret had not been among the details he had disclosed to Anakin Skywalker in the course of assuring him that yes, there was a chance she would be romantically interested in a young man like him, just as, yes, if he practiced patience and devoted more effort to developing his skills, the Jedi Council would be forced to respect him.
Years of fattening the boy's ego on a diet of measured flattery had forged a brash and temperamental youth whose arrogance already placed him on par with the late Darth Maul. He had endeavored to cultivate the boy's hope for a prospective relationship with Padmé, encouraging the attachment that auspiciously made him unfit to be a Jedi.
She would never look at the boy this way. She would never see him as the incarnation of her ideals, the one who could, with her assistance, bring them into reality. Anakin would arouse her easily given compassion, but never this passion which originated in the illusion of a shared dream for the galaxy.
This would be the seed that would grow into a tragedy. And he loved tragedies.
He relished reminiscing about the tragedy of Darth Plagueis, who had fatally underestimated his apprentice, and that of Finis Valorum, who had placed too much trust in a friend. He looked forward to watching the tragedy of Anakin Skywalker, who would be reborn a worthy apprentice to the greatest Sith Lord of all time, and the tragedy of Padmé Amidala, unwitting instrument in the destruction of the very things she cared about.
She, who abhorred war, would fight on the front lines of his war, and hers would be noblest of deaths. She would have the supreme honor of dying for him, to ensure Anakin remained loyal to him always. No cause could be more deserving of her sacrifice.
At last she looked down, letting him observe her unilaterally. Another power that was his exclusively. She lowered her gaze before no other man.
Ordering the Trade Federation to kill her eight years ago had been... premature. It was fortunate that she had survived, for he had found her to be of much further use after all.
The fabric of her dress was pleasant to the touch. He stroked it idly. "Do you regret," he whispered in her ear, even though there was no need to whisper – they were quite alone, "not letting the people of Naboo make you Queen for life?"
"No. It wouldn't have been right."
This was why he preferred her silent. Her ridiculous attachment to democracy. Her infuriating inability to see what kind of government the galaxy really needed.
He buried his anger deep. When she turned her head, raising her ardent gaze to his face once more, she could see none of it.
"I'm happy to be here," she said softly. Their faces were very close. "It is my duty."
Her duty, to be here at midnight? He smiled faintly. How skillfully she deceives herself.
No, he would not teach Anakin how to control her. He would permit the boy to use her body, as the plan required, but he would remain the sole master of her, to the end.
To extinguish the fire in her eyes and shatter her steely will would require nothing more than the truth. But he would allow her to enjoy the bliss of ignorance a few years longer.
Author's note: This takes place in year eight of the decade we don't see in the movies – the decade between The Phantom Menace and Attack of the Clones, between "Together, we will bring peace and prosperity to the Republic" and "The thought of losing you is unbearable". I'm considering this as a prologue/preview of a longer story I'm writing about the Palpatine/Amidala relationship from beginning to end, expanding on the implications in James Luceno's Darth Plagueis that he helped her become queen and the comment by Mon Mothma in Luceno's Dark Lord that Padmé supported him "almost until the very end". Stay tuned.
I hope you liked reading this piece, creepy though it is. It was fun to write. Let me know what you think!
Disclaimer: I don't own the Star Wars franchise. This is a work of fan fiction. No profit is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.