Chapter Nine – A Night at the Opera
Author's Note: I have been very ill all week and this may or may not affect this chapter – hopefully not.
Lady Vader 2884- Yes! Soon I shall have ALL the cookies in the cookie jar!
Agny- I'm flattered to be classed along with that amazing web-doc! As to the sex… well I'm not giving anything away.
Lady Sidious- In terms of the details, I'm training to be a theatrical costume designer and… I just can't resist luxuriating over Palpatine's clothes and apartment. (Begins to drool…)
Darkside Doris- You really do leave the kind of review the renders a girl speechless - but not quite! - Another person screaming for sex? Well… read…
Ziggy – I was in agonies over that little gasp! Was it good? Was it bad? Blah, blah, blah… I am so glad you commented on it –taken a weight off my mind! A Day at the Races! Hmm… I suddenly have a vision of Palpatine in one of those ridiculous race hats…!
Lamfear 1- You know, I really don't know whether darling Palpy gives a damn about Anakin… Power tripping sod.
Spelljammer: You want an up-himself Chancellor? You get an up-himself Chancellor! Mr. Palpatine is indeed commencing to wine and dine a certain Jedi.
LL- As soon as I finish answering all these reviews, I'll read your story. I hope you appreciate what I forced myself to write in this chapter. Honestly, it was meant to be a plot driven story! I just can't breath for the demands for intercourse!
Disclaimer: No, I do not own Star Wars – if I did, I… Wait, thinking about that is simply unbearable! George Lucas is the Master and Owner
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The two Jedi sat in one of the darkened meditation rooms in the temple, cross-legged, opposite each other on the soft beige seats.
Master Windu leaned forward, his dark eyes opaque in the dim light. "What is the exact nature of Skywalker's friendship with Palpatine?" he asked Obi-Wan seriously.
"It's… complicated," said Obi-Wan, frowning. There was a moment of silence while the younger Master assembled his thoughts. "Anakin is… deeply attached to the Chancellor. They have been friends for a long time."
Mace Windu digested this. "Be mindful of Anakin," he said, leaning forward, "and above all, be wary of Palpatine, his influence over Anakin is dangerous."
"But Anakin is the Chosen One…"
"All the more reason to fear the influence of an outsider."
I'm sorry Anakin, Obi-Wan thought sadly, but this isn't just about you anymore.
"There's something I haven't told you," said Obi-Wan haltingly.
"Yes?"
"Anakin is… romantically attached to the Chancellor."
Mace Windu stared at him. "You are… certain of this?" he said finally, disbelieving.
"I am,"
"Then it is worse than I thought."
Anakin sped towards the 500 Republica, a recent conversation with Obi-Wan still in his head.
The Chancellor is gaining far too much power, Obi-Wan had said.
How dare they accuse Palpatine of what… despotism? After all the man had done for the Republic! Worn himself out in the service of democracy. As if he wanted extra powers – he already had far too much work as it was. He came to bed exhausted, too tired for anything more than sleep.
All Obi-Wan seemed to do was try and push him away from Palpatine, with cryptic warnings about the Chancellor's motives. He should know better, Anakin thought angrily.
Anakin accelerated, his deep blue eyes becoming slits. Perhaps it wasn't the Sith who would be responsible or the death of his love… perhaps it would be-? The speeder came to a shrieking halt. Had he truly just though that? Anakin rubbed his eyes. I need more sleep.
It was early evening and the sun was just beginning to sink beneath the horizon as Anakin's speeder touched down on the Chancellor's private landing platform. The sky was just turning to a faint pink, but Anakin could tell it was going to be one of those spectacular Coruscant sunsets.
When Anakin walked in, Palpatine was sitting on one of his comfortable black couches with his back to the Jedi.Hearing Anakin's footsteps, he stood up slowly and turned towards him.
Anakin stopped. The Chancellor was dressed up, which was a strange thing to say in itself. His sweeping outercloak shone like a dark opal, the trailing sleeves were done in gold embroidery, as was the cummerbund. His inner robes were of dark velvet – Anakin wanted to reach out and smooth his fingers down the rich fabric.
"You look…" magnificent, wonderful, brilliant! But what he actually said was "…regal…"
Palpatine chuckled, "That wasn't quite the intention, Anakin."
"I mean it looks good!"
"I'll forgive you under one condition," said the Chancellor, a slight smile playing around his lips.
"What?" asked Anakin, sitting down on the arm of the black couch.
"You come to the ballet with me."
"What?" Anakin repeated.
"Come with me to the ballet tonight."
"But…" Anakin started to grin, "I don't know anything about ballet!"
"Then your cultural education starts tonight."
The two of them walked up the carpeted steps of the Galaxies Opera House, surrounded by the Chancellor's Guard. Anakin felt distinctly out of place among the crowds of overdressed beings. He could hear the distant sounds of the orchestra tuning up. Anakin fought off the impulse to take Palpatine's arm. He's mine, he wanted to say to everyone who bowed respectfully or politely greeted the Chancellor.
Palpatine nodded and smiled, making his was sedately up the stairs, daintily holding the front of his robes a few inches off the floor to avoid tripping up. "Don't look so tense," he whispered to Anakin. "You're here to enjoy yourself."
"Don't be so sure," said Anakin gloomily, making the Chancellor sigh androll his eyes exasperatedly.
Palpatine knew full well that Anakin would never appreciate the art he was witnessing tonight. It was disgusting how the Jedi deprived their initiates of the merest hint of culture. They two of them were seated in the Chancellor's private box, and the Palpatine was sure that if the boy wasn't so well trained in Jedi discipline he would be fidgeting. Sitting with the agitated Anakin beside him, Palpatine's enjoyment of the Mon Calamari ballet was seriously cut short.
For both of them, the interval couldn't come soon enough.
"So," Palpatine said when the lights came up at half-time. "What do you think of the story so far?" Not that there's much of a chance you appreciated any of it.
"I… um… thought it was good." Oh, really?
"Actually, it reminded me of the 'Tragedy of Darth Plagueis'…" Go on: admit it. You didn't understand one whit of the narrative..
"Darth Plagueis?" Anakin echoed, frowning slightly "Was he a Sith?"
Palpatine settled more comfortably into his chair. "Yes, so I don't suppose you'd have heard of him. It's not a story any of your Jedi Masters would tell you."
"What happened?" Anakin asked curiously.
"It's the legend of a Dark Lord who turned his sight so deeply inward that he came to comprehend and master life itself. According to the legend he could directly influence the midi-chlorians to create life. Armed with such knowledge, maintaining life in someone already living would seem a simple matter, don't you agree?"
Anakin's eyes widened and the boy's fingers dug into the soft arms of his chair. It's all so appallingly easy, Palpatine thought smugly.
"…Stronger than death?" Anakin murmured, amazed.
Oh, yes dear boy, very mach stronger than death. Don't worry; you'll be able to save your beloved Chancellor…
They sat there for a few moments, staring at the shimmering zero-g bubble that constituted the stage.
"So… what happened?" asked Anakin finally, shaking himself slightly.
"Well, it is a tragedy after all. Once he has gained this amazing power, the only thing he fears is to lose it. So, to safeguard his power's existence he teaches the pathway towards it to his apprentice…"
"And…?"
Palpatine shrugged his shoulders luxuriantly, his face a tight smirk."And his apprentice kills him in his sleep," he said crisply. "Plagueis never sees it coming. That's the tragic irony, of course. Not even the most powerful Sith Lord can save himself from death."
"What happens to the apprentice?"
He decides to take up politics. "Oh, him,"said Palpatine dismissively. "Well he goes on to become the greatest Dark Lord the Sith have ever known…"
The Chancellor smoothed his robes, closing his eyes for a moment.
"So," said Anakin slowly, as if weighing each word, "it's only a tragedy for Plagueis, for the apprentice it's a happy ending…"
A feature of many such Sith tales, I think you'll find. "Oh… well. Yes… quite right. I'd never actually thought of it in that way." Or rather, I had, but I'm hardly likely to tell you that am I?
"What if," said Anakin, sitting up, barely containing his excitement, "it's not just a legend… what if someone actually had this power…?"
Palpatine waited a few seconds before answering, enjoying the eager look on Anakin's face. "Oh, I am… rather certain… that Plagueis did indeed exist, and if someone did truly inherit his powers – well he would undoubtedly be one of the most powerful individuals in the galaxy. Not to mention virtually immortal…"
"Immortal…" the word hung in the air between them.
"How would I find him?" said Anakin breathlessly, dilated blue eyes looking searchingly into Palpatine's own.
"I really couldn't say," said Palpatine lightly, letting his eyelids drop and turning away slightly. The hum of the orchestra caught his ear. And now you have the entirety of the second act to ponder what I've said. Enjoy.
The buzz of the audience died away, and the lights dimmed once more, leaving them in darkness. Anakin's sweaty hand reached across to grip the hand of the Chancellor, whose eyes were fixed on the stage.
"What do you mean you booked?" said Anakin, slightly annoyed at being anticipated.
He sat opposite the Chancellor at a white covered table, in one of the most exclusive restaurants on the upper levels of Coruscant. The view was panoramic, all the walls in the circular room being made of transparasteel, patrons and staff entering the dining area by means of a transparent lift in the centre of the room. On top of each table was a small, spindly metal tree, covered with beads of light instead of leaves, their multiple glow reflected in the angular crystal glasses and polished cutlery.
Anakin and Palpatine were the only customers, the Red Guard standing at intervals around the curving edge of the room.
Palpatine waved a pale hand expressively, "Well… I was certain that with the proper approach, you could be persuaded to join me."
Anakin tried some of whatever was on his plate. He wasn't quite sure what it was (other than purple) but it was probably rare and extremely expensive. "You're awfully confident…" he said mock-seriously through the purple mouthful.
Palpatine leaned back in his chair, and Anakin could see himself reflected in those pale eyes. "Oh… don't you think it's justified, Anakin?"
Anakin looked down at his plate sheepishly. Palpatine laughed and took a sip of his wine.
"Well, yeah…" Anakin agreed eventually, face pink. "You've got this weird power over me… I could never refuse you."
"You award me such influence!"
"Anyway," said Anakin, rubbing the back of his neck, "You do this thing with your hands…"
The Chancellor raised his eyebrows and put the hands in question together on the table.
"It's so unbelievably feminine…" Anakin enthused, while Palpatine simply stared at him. "I've never seen anyone else do it, you sort of hold them up around your chest and make these delicate little gestures."
"I hadn't realised," said the Chancellor, unconsciously doing exactly as Anakin described.
They were taken back to the 500 Republica in Palpatine's personal shuttle. They sat close together on the smooth leather seats, the older man leaning slightly against Anakin, Palpatine's dark robes overflowing slightly onto Anakin's lap. For Anakin, this was everything he wanted. He wanted this forever.
But you shouldn't even be doing it now, said a voice in his head, reminiscent of Obi-Wan. You're a Jedi Knight and you can't love anyone –especially not the leader of the Republic you're supposed to be serving!
Watch me.
The shuttle touched down gently and the two of them got out, Anakin helping Palpatine down. As soon as they were inside, the guards sent away, they began to kiss, in an exquisitely slow parting of lips. They could taste the expensive wine still on each other's tongues.
They began to undress, but when Palpatine reached to remove his cloak, Anakin shook his head and simply undid the soft trousers the Chancellor wore under his robes. "Leave it all on," he whispered breathlessly, flinging his own clothes across the room.
Falling onto the bed, the rich layers of silk rubbed against Anakin's naked skin. Eager, Anakin forced himself into Palpatine's pallid opening almost immediately, making the Chancellor cry out in shock, Anakin sliding his firm hands up the inside of those robes.
This was what was real. This is what meant something. Everything else was worthless.
Colours flamed and danced across Palpatine's vision as he was pushed into the matrass. He raked his nails along the sheets, veins throbbing and knuckles white. It was a struggle even to maintain his mental shields as he was hit by the onslaught of passion.
Tears began to trail down his face, in an effort to keep his control. But Anakin drove in again, harder, and his reserve broke.
A wave of incredible power crashed over Anakin. It swirled around him, flooding the deliriousJedi with a thunderstorm of feeling. It touched his own power, making him grip Palpatine tighter, heady with energy. They moved together, slick with semen and blood, the dark, addictive power undulating between and around them like curling black smoke.
But when the moment finally ceased, it was gone, leaving Anakin to wonder what exactly it was he'd felt.
Right, that's it for now, darlings – Reviews are gobbled up like cookies!
