Okay, so this will be the first legit story I've actually posted online, but I've been writing SW fanfics and drawing fan art for quite a few years now. I never got around to posting any of them because I thought my writing sucked and/or because I'm a severe procrastinator and couldn't actually finish them, which is pretty frustrating tbh.
I was always interested in the Rey Palpatine theory as far back as when TFA came out, even though I really didn't like how the final film handled it, and I actually kind of despise both the 8th and 9th installments in the series... Anyways, this might turn out to be total shit and I'll likely end up editing or redoing parts of it in the future. The frequency of updates will be kind of messed up since school is kind of slaughtering me at the moment.
The surface of Exegol was more or less inhospitable due to the vicious, never-ending electrical storms in the planet's atmosphere. Days were barely distinguishable from nights as the nearest star's light struggled to pass through the oppressive blanket of clouds, which left no patch of sky unobstructed. The landscape couldn't sustain vegetation or wildlife beyond one particular native species of worm that burrowed in the sterile ground to nibble on dirt. Life on Exegol carried on like a dark secret, buried deep below the surface and preserved in heavily fortified manmade structures. It was only fitting for such an isolated planet in the Unknown Regions to be the last untainted microcosm of Sith culture. Appreciation for the dark side and a narrow focus on technology had kept Exegol's human population thriving for centuries, and now they would dutifully serve their recently resurrected Lord; only he could return the galaxy to a Sith-led Imperial state.
Within the massive dreadnought that coasted along above the storming clouds like a dagger not yet poised to kill, Emperor Palpatine sat shrouded in shadows atop a black throne. The restless tapping of his long fingernails against the armrest was the only sound echoing between the walls of the flagship's throne room. He'd barely survived the betrayal of Darth Vader, only tethered to the mortal world by his refusal to let go and his persistent longing for complete control of all celestial bodies in the galaxy. His devoted worshippers had tried their best to transplant their idol's soul into a new body grown from the remaining genetic material of his original body, but that artificially-created shell proved to be too unstable.
Though his black robes concealed everything except his ghoulish face and hands, over half of the flesh on Palpatine's new body had withered away to leave parts of his skeleton fully exposed. The constant feeling of his skin contracting as it decomposed around him was a morbid reminder of his status as a breathing corpse. His continued existence was a true testament to the strength that could only be attained through the dark side's ingenuity.
Palpatine listened to the muffled roars of thunder on the other side of the transparisteel viewport behind him. A few days ago, he'd sent one of the Sith Eternal's most esteemed assassins on a high priority mission, and now it was a simple matter of waiting for an update on the assassin's progress. Naturally, that free time was used for reflecting on the greatest injustices that had been committed against him.
Looking at it from a shallow depth, Vader was the attack dog who turned on his master, knowing that he'd have to pay with his own life to secure the survival of his unambitious offspring. If relying on an uncomfortable mechanical suit to perform his most basic physical functions even counted as being alive. Palpatine mused that he himself now walked that same line between life and death, the way he was only sustained by the wires hooked up to his back. No, it was the fact that Vader had sacrificed himself for Luke Skywalker that disturbed him most.
The entire situation invoked confusion in him. From the opposite end, all logic dictated that the younger Skywalker should've felt a need to avenge the things that had been taken from him. He should've given into the temptation of unlimited power being dangled before him, family ties be damned. It made no sense how young Luke could've clung to the light instead of slaying Vader in his justified anger.
Pathetic, Palpatine thought to himself as he sensed one of his many robed followers enter his throne room.
He thought back to his early days as a youth, of his own lunatic of a father who'd despised him from birth and how easy it had been for the two of them to sabotage each other. Just recently Palpatine had sent Ochi of Bestoon to butcher his failed experiment of a clone without a trace of hesitation. He couldn't fathom the concept of being so attached to an obstacle in his path solely because it shared parts of his genetic blueprint. His own "son" had merely been a faint flicker of a dying flame that needed to be snuffed out in favor of a spark with infinitely more potential.
The Sith Lord reached across the stars for the radiant Force signature of what would be his greatest weapon yet. The burnt limbless husk of Anakin Skywalker wouldn't hold a candle to the raw power inside of the youngling that his imperfect clone had managed to sire. How someone so useless could produce something so remarkable was another subject that puzzled him, but he supposed that wouldn't matter in the end.
He himself was immune to the influence of family bonds, but perhaps his granddaughter would eventually fight for him the way the Skywalkers had fought for each other.
If she did, he'd have a Force user who could reliably host his soul once the time came. He needed another new vessel to inhabit, one just as strong as his old body had once been. Maybe even stronger. With the recent discovery of his viable blood heir, Palpatine made a few revisions to his long-term goals, particularly where the newest addition to the Skywalker family factored in.
His cracked grey lips came together in a thin line before he called the patiently waiting Sith worshipper forward to speak his business.
"My Lord," the man said reverently, his hood casting a shadow over the top half of his face. He knelt in front of the throne to show fealty and carried on with a tremor in his voice. "Your request has been fulfilled. Your son and his wife, they are no more."
Palpatine kept his cold and sightless gaze trained on the man kneeling before him. He already knew his son was dead. He'd even felt the exact moment when the young fool had exhaled his last shuddering breath after being gutted, undoubtedly by the serrated edge of the assassin's sacred dagger. This messenger was avoiding the more pressing issue, a bad sign indeed. The waves of fear emanating from the man were not lost on Palpatine's sharp senses either.
"Never mind that. What of the child who I commanded him to retrieve for me?" His question came out unfeeling, yet accompanied by a sinister undercurrent.
The worshipper bowed his head down further. "He never returned from his mission. The assassin- he hasn't been seen or heard from since his last transmission where he said the job was done-"
"So he failed, then," Palpatine cut in icily. He tilted his head back, gazing up at the high ceiling of the throne room with clouded white eyes. He felt along the threads of the Force for the familiar tremors of the assassin's life pulse. His search was met with stillness and silence. Ochi himself had apparently met his own end in some bizarre twist of fate, probably after the most valuable treasure had slipped past his grip.
"He claimed he never saw the child with them, that they refused to tell him where she was," the worshipper explained as he shrank into himself meekly.
Yet the Emperor still bared his teeth in a grimace of irritation. His useless son had actually succeeded at hiding his granddaughter away, throwing a spanner wrench into his master plan one final time.
It wouldn't be for long, though. As long as she burned so brightly among the chaotic tangled web of life in the galaxy, she could be tracked down. Palpatine, who had spent the larger part of his existence perfecting his control over the Force and inventing new ways to exploit it, could almost effortlessly detect and isolate the distinct force signature of his only worthy progeny.
His eyes gave off a muted glow as he rose to his feet. The machinery at his back matched his every movement when he made the short walk to the massive viewport behind his throne. When he grasped the child's Force signature, he could feel her confusion and despair. Images of baked dusty sand plains filled his mind, a single sun appearing in flashes of a cloudless sky. It was a world Palpatine recognized as the location of one of his Observatories, and for a brief moment he couldn't believe that they would have taken her there of all places. Then he remembered that one of Vader's children had been hidden on the planet Tatooine where their father had been enslaved as a boy. Perhaps they'd thought it would pass under Palpatine's radar precisely because it sounded too obvious, and that he'd never consider revisiting the site where the Galactic Empire had lost its last battle.
The Emperor shook his head softly at the idea of his intelligence being insulted in such a way.
"Prepare a course for Jakku. It seems I must take matters into my own hands."
Rey sat curled up in the darkest corner of the old freighter that the cantankerous Crolute had instructed her to stay in until he found a purpose for her. She wished her parents would come back soon, kill Mr. Plutt like they'd done to countless other horrible people who'd tried to harm her, and carry her back to the little room on their ship where all of her toys were.
Her tiny fists curled in the fabric of the ragged brown dress that she hated so much. Still, she knew it was important for her to wear the disguise until it was safe for her to wear her usual clothes. Something truly tragic must've happened in order for Father to cry the way he had before he and Mother had left her alone on that desert world.
Before three days ago, the girl had seen nothing but calm, quiet strength from her parents. They'd always known what to do and how to manage every predicament they were faced with. In the final days before they'd placed her in the neglectful care of Unkar Plutt, a panic had overtaken them, robbing them of sleep and taking away the confidence they once had. Mother started restlessly wandering the narrow corridors of their modest shuttle while Father turned to sharp-smelling drinks to burn away the nerves, locking himself in the refresher so his wife and child wouldn't have to see his periodic breakdowns. On the last day, they'd made their unplanned stop at Niima Outpost with fervent promises that they would do anything to keep Rey safe. They'd hugged her tight to their chests as they told her to never forget how much she was treasured, no matter what.
Rey's thoughts continually dragged her back down the path of tears as the bleakness of her situation compounded by the hour. A horrible pain shot through her small heart which ticked like a bomb about to detonate, and somehow she just knew she'd never see Father or Mother ever again. Between her muffled sobs, a hiccup managed to break out of her mouth. Then her stomach let out a growl. Though her most recent meals had only consisted of the bitter green bread Unkar Plutt had thrown her way, her distress made her never want to eat again. And deserts are supposed to be hot, yet somehow she had never felt colder than she did in that desolate, horrible place.
Eventually the five year old grew too exhausted from worrying and crying to stay awake. Her knees remained tucked up against her chest as she laid in fetal position, lacking the warmth of her cot and the bedtime stories Father would tell her, or the affectionate way Mother would brush her brown hair before tying it into three buns.
As far as she knew, her only family was gone and not likely to return anytime soon. But beyond her knowledge and beyond the stars she could see in the night sky, one of the biggest warships ever constructed was coming to deliver her to a destiny she didn't yet comprehend.
Our man Sheev isn't about to just leave his massively overpowered descendant out in the middle of nowhere so she can get corrupted by the New Republic or the Jedi and eventually kill him on behalf of his worst enemies. I mean, wouldn't that be freaking dumb of him?
After the first two or three chapters of establishing a few things, I'll include some other familiar characters in the story... That'll be interesting for sure.