Taking Heavy Cues from both Darth Plagueis and The Wrath of Darth Maul, this is a peek into what was.
What is will be returned to in the next chapter.
Sidious watched quietly as the young child went through his drills. He watched that small form jump, and run, and touch his toes, reaching into the air as high as he could… All things that would increase his coordination, increase his mobility.
Deenine, as it was called, was in charge of making sure that the boy was thrown throughout their fights, tossed around the room so his vestibular system was activated and he grew used to the feeling of leaving the ground, of his balance. There was also simply the fact of his proprioception, of learning how his body moved, of where he began and ended. All of these things were integral in making sure that the boy before him did not…toddle. Was controlled and upright in his posture…
That the boy could handle the things that Sidious needed him to do. That he could handle the sticks that were given to him, that he could fight and had the muscle-mass to do it.
Sidious watched as the timer finally dinged and the child stood there, controlling his breath, the only sign of his fatigue the way those piercing yellow eyes closed, hiding the glow that Sidious knew was there. It was that sight, though, that reminded him of another fact.
That boy had now become his Apprentice.
That boy had finally accessed the Force.
Three years old, and he had called the training weapon from across the room, had managed to break it on Deenine's metal shell.
He had been punished, of course, for the breaking of the stick, but Sidious was… Pleased.
The Apprentice may even gain a name, soon, though Sidious was still thinking of what.
His Apprentice was Dathomirian, and as such should have been marked for what he was, and given a name… But Sidious had taken him before either could be performed, had felt the moment the child was born and come to take him.
Sidious had felt the stirrings in the Force, the life that screamed of Dark so loudly he had heard it in Naboo and had come then to claim him. The knowledge that the child was a twin, had a brother whose life had been intertwined with his and yet sang so brightly of Light…well. That was all the better.
A severed twin-bond would make the child Hunger, and that Hunger could be turned to Passion, which could easily be turned to Rage, and Hate, and Fear.
Sidious would have an Apprentice that was Made for Dark, was Made for Power, and would stand beside him. Sidious could see the loyalty in the way the child looked up at him, see the open admiration and devotion… And unlike Sidious himself, who stared up at his Master with open admiration and hidden guile… There was none of that hatred within his Apprentice.
His Apprentice had no knowledge of the agony that Sidious was giving him.
His Apprentice merely knew that Sidious was making him strong.
And so, Sidious was.
Sidious had no time for a weak Apprentice, and the boy before him would burn with power, would rattle the stars themselves… Sidious could see it.
He just needed to find out how to unlock it.
But for now, Sidious watched as the Apprentice turned to his less…physical lessons, instead going towards the ones that challenged his mind.
The Apprentice sat on his chair, having to climb to properly sit in it, his legs sticking straight-out on the seat itself… His Apprentice was three years old. He was too small to do otherwise. After a moment where he adjusted the straps and the program, he finally put the sensor over his head, carefully slotting his small but very sharp horns in the holes that were cut for them, before putting the screen over his eyes, and slotted his hands in the cuffs that would shock him if he missed an answer or was too slow.
Sidious was quiet, watching as his Apprentice gave his answers.
He was only shocked twice in the first twenty minutes that Sidious watched.
Sidious was pleased.
But Sidious expected perfection, and he would be sure that his Apprentice knew that. Sidious would punish him, but he would be sure that the boy knew why, that it would be framed in such a way that his Apprentice would understand that Sidious was only looking out for him…
Mistakes would get him killed.
They were Sith, and the time was soon coming when they would reveal themselves, and the boy before him would be an integral part in the fight against their enemies, and Sidious did not wish for the one he had spent so much time perfecting to be cut down so quickly.
There was the smallest stirring of something else in that thought. The smallest stirring of possessive worry. The Apprentice before him was his, had been stolen by his own hands, taken from a boy who screamed…
Sidious had left him alive, too, had known that he was not a twin, but nonetheless would have formed a bond with the child regardless.
More bonds to sever.
More things to induce Hunger…
And Sidious knew that his Apprentice Hungered. He kept him in that state almost constantly, feeding him raw meat and starving him of light, of hope, of… Touch.
Sidious made sure that the only touch the boy craved was his own.
Sidious was surprised then, when the boy was shocked harsher, more violently than he had yet seen, and finally called out, crying in pain and confusion, and recognized that this, then, was an answer that the boy had no idea how to give. Deenine scuttled forward, turning off the simulation, and dragged him out of the chair, throwing him across the room to land on the training mats.
Sidious watched as the fall was turned into a clumsy roll, that nonetheless mitigated any true damage that could be done to him. His Apprentice came out of that roll breathing hard, his yellow eyes flaring with confusion and fear, and he looked up at Sidious… And pressed his forehead flat to the mats.
"I am sorry, Master," he said, that small child's voice thick with unshed tears and confusion.
Sidious approached until he was standing directly above him, Deenine off to the side, awaiting instructions.
"Tell me, Apprentice," Sidious asked softly, walking slowly around the body. "What caused you such confusion?"
His Apprentice kept his forehead pressed to those mats, though Sidious did not expect that they were hiding tears in a way he had when his Apprentice had been younger, when he had not truly realized that tears did nothing, were merely a sign of weakness.
"I did not know what the Twi'lek was doing," he said softly, and Sidious tilted his head.
"Explain."
"She…" the Apprentice hesitated, "may I stand, sir?"
"Apprentice," Sidious said in soft acknowledgement, taking his own step back, watching as his Apprentice stood, before looking up at him with those wide yellow eyes.
"There was a little boy," he said with a frown, "also a Twi'lek, and she held him like this…" the boy held his own body carefully, the movements slightly awkward, unused to the way they wrapped around himself… Sidious looked at this for a moment, realizing that it was a hug that had so confused his young Apprentice.
A hug.
Sidious thought for a moment of those infrequent touches, the slightest brush of a finger to a forehorn, the way that head would instinctively lean into it, unable to help… Sidious thought of his hand on the boy's head, the moments when he allowed himself to actually pick the child up, the way his Apprentice leaned towards him, that small body instinctively seeking a touch that it was lacking.
Sidious thought of the Hunger that he was still trying to drive into his Apprentice and looked at him quietly.
"It is called a hug," Sidious said softly, "it is a sign of weakness."
His Apprentice lowered his arms almost immediately, staring up at him expectantly.
"The boy was not strong enough and had to turn to his mother for comfort. It is a sign that he was too weak to stand on his own," Sidious explained softly, looking down at him. "A sign that whatever was hurting him was something he could not face alone, so he ran to his mother." Sidious made sure to sneer at him, to curl his lips in a way that spoke of nothing more than utter derision.
His Apprentice looked up at him with those eyes that held nothing more than want. Want of knowledge, want of understanding, and they stared up at him with the belief that Sidious would answer his questions, would give him the knowledge that he needed… The faith given to him was so like a child, so like an innocent… Sidious stared at this child who looked up at him with so much belief and trust…
"You are too strong for that," he said, his brows raised just so. "You would not show weakness in that manner, would you?"
"No, sir!" his Apprentice answered, shaking his head fiercely.
"No," Sidious said softly, "of course you would not. You are strong, aren't you?"
"Yes, sir," his Apprentice nodded, looking up with those eyes, as though begging for the opportunity to prove it…
"Your lack of knowledge must still be punished, of course," Sidious said softly, and his Apprentice bowed, low and humble.
"I am sorry, my Master," he said softly.
"You know, of course, why this punishment is given?"
"Mistakes can be fatal," he said, "I must not make them."
"Good," Sidious said softly. His Apprentice closed his eyes, bowed his head, and Sidious introduced him to lightning. His Apprentice held in his screams until his lip split, until he could handle no more, and finally let them out, writhing. And then finally Sidious stopped, taking a step back. "Good," he said softly, "now direct the pain within. Breathe with it. Let it make you strong. You are not like that little boy. You are not like that weakling."
"Yes, Master," his Apprentice said through chattering teeth, blood trickling from his lip to his knee. Sidious felt as his Apprentice worked on meditation, as he closed his eyes and threw the pain the fear the hate of the weakness that had been shown.
Sidious felt that power grow and was pleased.
"Get cleaned up," Sidious finally said after his Apprentice was finished and the boy stood up and bowed, walking away without a single tremble.
Sidious then found he was proud.
And then he sensed the presence that had been hidden from him, and he closed his eyes and drew upon all of the reserves of respect he had.
"My Master," Sidious said, turning to bow to the Muun that stood there. "Dismissed," Sidious said in passing to Deenine, who immediately scuttled off.
Darth Plagueis walked forward; long limbs leading him to move almost eerily smooth as he walked to stand before him. Plagueis gaze was turned in the direction of where his Apprentice had gone. Sidious kept the bitter possessiveness down in his chest where it belonged, hidden beneath the reverence.
"You must be careful, Sidious," Plagueis said softly, and Sidious felt a momentary flash of anger. Plagueis seemed to catch it, looking down upon him with a gaze that spoke of amusement, but his gaze soon turned sharp. "You will ruin him."
"Ruin?" Sidious asked softly. "I cannot see how. Already he is strong, already he is in full possession of his body…and he will only get better."
"And yet you would remove from him the ability to connect with people…the ability to treat others with compassion…"
"What use is there in compassion?"
"The gaining of their trust," Plagueis answered with a raised brow, staring down at him. "Surely you would know this. Surely you would recognize your own machinations and the compassion that you weave within it."
"I thought my Apprentice was to be an Assassin, not a manipulator," Sidious returned easily.
Plagueis' expression shifted slightly, before he looked away again. "True," he said. "But stripping him of basic comforts will only make him harder to control, more prone to anger without focus. This, Sidious, is a waste."
Sidious said nothing, content to let his Master prattle.
"Even then…an Assassin must be able to get close. An Assassin must be able to gain the trust of the one he wishes to kill. You must give him the tools to do so, Sidious, or else he is a waste."
There was a silence between them, Sidious waiting patiently for the further lecture, knowing it was coming…knowing…
"Does he have a name yet?"
"He has not earned it," Sidious returned. "He knows that he is my Apprentice, and this is enough."
"For now," Plagueis agreed softly, "but what happens when it is not? What happens when he sees enough to recognize that he has been manipulated? What happens when someone hugs him and he realizes that his body is screaming for it in a way that cannot just come from weakness, when he knows that he is strong and yet he still can only think of someone holding him tighter?"
Sidious tilted his head slowly, looking to his Master. "I thought you would have approved," he said finally, a small part of his being burning with ire as much as it burned with confusion. "Is not manipulation the way of the Sith?"
Plagueis was quiet for a long moment before looking at him. "I believe that there is a danger to this…sooner or later your manipulations will be laid bare. You may be creating the dagger that would point at your own heart."
"He holds true affection for me," Sidious rejoined softly. "He recognizes that he is getting stronger, that he will continue to get stronger if he is trained by me, and in the end, he recognizes that Power is all that matters. Surely you cannot argue with that?"
Plagueis was quiet for a long moment before he finally bowed his head. "Surely, I cannot." Plagueis stared at him for a long moment, "make sure that the power you are giving him is power that will remain. That he can keep. Make sure that it is power that is his."
Sidious took this in for a moment. "I will grant him power. He will be strong, and he will be loyal."
Plagueis took this in for yet another long moment, so long Sidious wished to snarl at him, to spit, to do something to break him from that contemplation that made him feel small. Made him feel weak.
"Then make sure that he never knows how much you have lied. Make sure that he never knows that a simple hug was not the weakness that you have made it out to be," Plagueis' mouth curled into a sneering smile.
"Is this not the Sith way?" Sidious challenged once again, tired of the repetition, tired of the advice.
Plagueis was quiet for a moment, taking this in, his expression momentarily surprised as though he thought he did not have to answer this question. "Perhaps," he said. "But you of all people should know that it does not have to be."
Sidious had to fight to put away the sneer he wanted to make, had to fight against the bitter laugh he wished to give. Instead, he bowed, low and agreeing. "Of course, my Master," Sidious said softly.
"Good," Plagueis said, and there was pride in his voice, even as he looked at Sidious with those eyes… "If he does figure it out, Sidious, make certain that you have something that will make him come back. That will bind him to you tighter than any truth about the way you have treated him."
Sidious thought for a moment of that flash of pride, the flash of affection.
Sidious thought of the small boy that obeyed every order and loved him unconditionally.
"I have one," he said softly.
"Then good," Plagueis said. "Keep it."
"I will."