Peace is a lie.
He wanted to be free.
Being born in the Republic where slavery had been abolished for centuries and minimum wage standards were enforced with harsh penalties and clear guidelines should have given him the freedom he'd always wanted. It didn't.
There is only passion.
It didn't matter what power or wealth one had to their name, someone always had the power to take that away. They had, in essence, more power. So one had to obey the law; follow rules. One had to make an appearance. One had to play the games as he'd learned to do so long ago. He could play them well. He still hated it.
Through passion, I gain strength.
Once, he'd thought he could have escaped his iron-clad fate if his parents had allowed him to be trained as a Jedi. Now he knew better. They had their own rules; their own despicable games, and he found he could hate them for it.
Now he hoarded that hate as it gave him strength.
Through strength, I gain power.
"Good, good." He heard his master growl from the background. He didn't allow himself to smile at the compliment, instead continuing to swing his glowing-red blade around in wild but controlled swipes.
His master had been pleased with his progress so far, but he hadn't been. It wasn't enough. It was never enough...but it would be, one day. If he bled enough, if he sacrificed enough, if he pushed enough, then it would be.
"You have come far, youngling." He grit his teeth against the hated title. At the standard age of 18 he could hardly be classified as a child. Not that that mattered to an ancient Sith Lord. Oh, how he despised his master's presence. Oh, how he hated being here.
Through power, I gain victory.
But of course, that was the idea, and despite the constant pain and anguish he'd been required to endure, he almost rued the days to come in one month's time when he would return and visit his family, maintaining a facade of normalcy.
The first time he'd been instructed to return had confused him. Why forego those weeks of training? It hadn't taken him long to deduce the answer. His master didn't think he knew, but he did. He'd been chosen as the one apprentice because his family had power behind their name. In time, he would be in an optimal position to avenge the Sith upon the foolish Jedi.
His family's status, he was sure, had been the deciding factor, and that knowledge caused his blood to boil. Oh, he had innate ability and talent when it came to The Force, but so did many others. How he loathed the fact that he was not the most powerful. So he would make sure he was one day.
"That will be all for today, Darth Sidious," his master said suddenly. He didn't say anything. There would be no point in doing so. He simply stopped his kata, bowed to his master, and left. He would practice more in his room.
Through victory, my chains are broken.
He'd long since come to the conclusion that he would have to wait for his freedom; earn it; take it forcefully from those around him. So he would be patient, and he would gain power, while those around him clung like the pathetic slime they were to their illusion of freedom.
The force shall set me free!
