A Force-push of pure fury had sent the stubbornly attentive Sate Pestage stumbling from the room. The comm set sat twisted and leaking faint smoke, weakly spitting sparks every so often. It had been a long time since Senator Palpatine had lost his temper so, but his boys' first blatant act of defiance had provoked a lash-out. With the first wave of fury passing, betrayal trickled in to take its place.
Palpatine sat in the deep dimness of his office, the curtains tightly drawn closed, the overhead glowpanels almost entirely extinguished. The most notable light source in the room was the faint glow of his golden eyes as he stared into nothingness, pondering his failure.
He had not foreseen his boys being seduced by wily females, for he himself had never felt called by such. Of course he had seen such futures, but finding them unlikely, had dismissed them as negligible threat. It only went to show, he mused darkly, how very little could be taken for granted. It had never occurred to him to immunize his apprentices against conniving females – he had trained them to always, always focus on the mission.
So how had this happened? And how, by Korriban, had little Padmé Naberrie managed such a sly scheme? And who was this Eirtaé character? Palpatine scowled, calling to mind his memory of the handmaidens as they stood behind his puppet Queen, trying to recall which was which. He had noticed them, of course – as possible hindrances to his plans, it behooved him to take note of them – but could not recall ever seeing their hair or much of their faces, the heavy hoods doing their job all too well. But he vaguely recalled a flash of blonde hair at some official function…
Well, well. Who would've thought, some pretty little blonde turning steady Maul's head. Sidious' eyes glowed brighter as a dozen lovely ways to eliminate the pest occurred to him. With a regretful sigh, he dismissed them all. It was more than the boys deserved, perhaps, but he would allow them a chance to explain themselves before he destroyed their mistresses.
The door opened and Sate Pestage crept in, almost green. "My – my lord, we… have received a… further communication," he almost whimpered.
Palpatine scowled and waved for him to continue – as displeasing as the message was likely to be, this was one messenger he would not shoot; Pestage had proven himself loyal, resourceful, and capable. "Spit it out," he ordered sharply, annoyed, and with a growing leaden weight in his stomach.
Pestage swallowed twice before he could get the words out. "It – it would seem Lord Maul is… married."
Palpatine stared expressionlessly at his aide, eyes smoldering, as Pestage squirmed. "I see," he spoke finally, dropping his words slowly, a malignant intent barely perceptibly beneath the deadly calm. "Dismissed." It was a testament to how displeased he was that Pestage's relief almost smothered the room as he fled, leaving the Sith Lord alone to contemplate his failure.
How could his boys have done this? He thought he had trained them so well… for twenty years, over twenty years, they had lived in perfect obedience. And now… this. It felt as though they had both drop-kicked him in the gut, with this willful defiance. He bared his teeth in the privacy of his office. Treachery. He had allowed himself to trust them, and they had betrayed him.
He reached into the Force, into himself. The hot anger, the knifing betrayal, congealed, going cold and hard – purpose, determination, icy anger, the mainstays of his power as a Sith. If the headstrong boys wished to turn against their Master, let them – they would see how little they knew. He would defeat them, capture them, and then he would eviscerate those worthless women before their very eyes as they watched, helpless to stop him.
His eyes glowed gold in the darkness of his office.