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Chapter 5: The Thing about Revenge

Kakka Freetaan turned bright eyes on the Jedi master from her place between his two guards. "Knock me down with a peko-peko feather," she exclaimed, delighted. "If it isn't our very own Obi-Wan Kenobi, dashing war hero of the Republic. Are you getting this on film?" she demanded of her camera man, a thin alien with entirely too many fingers.

"Yep," he replied, lazily bringing up the cam to focus squarely on the Jedi. Palpatine allowed a faint grin. Perhaps this could yet go to his satisfaction. He waved his guards back and watched as Freetaan cat-walked up to Kenobi.

"The unmatched half of the set, ladies and gentlemen. Tell me, Master Kenobi, how do you feel about Anakin Skywalker's marriage?"

Kenobi's impeccable Jedi calm was masking a rather blatant aversion in the Force. The faintly twitching mustache was his only outward giveaway. "You know that is Jedi business, Madame," he said. "The Order – "

She interrupted him with a cheerful squeal. "Oh, does this mean the Order is loosening its views on marriage in the ranks? You have to admit, it's a rather old-fashioned idea. And it takes soooo many eligible bachelors and bachelorettes off the list. I think my listeners would agree…it's time to get with the times."

Perfect. Palpatine decided to strike, commenting mildly from the side. "I think you give the Order far too little credit, Madame Freetaan. Have you spoken with the Duchess Satine Kryze of Mandalore? She has a rather unique relationship with the Jedi, and I feel perhaps a conversation with her might be most… illuminating."

Freetaan's jaw almost hit the floor when he spoke.

Obi-Wan's face lost nearly every drop of blood.

Palpatine smiled cheerfully at him. "I think it can safely be said that she is a personal friend to Master Kenobi. They have worked together in the past."

Beside him, Luke piped up, "Mama says she loves him!"

In that moment, Luke suddenly held far, far more potential than any other. Palpatine looked down in barely restrained amusement at his co-conspirator and forgave him in an instant for the state of his boots. Out of the mouths of younglings…

Kakka Freetaan looked as though she had lost the ability to breathe, but not due to any pain. Rather, the complete satisfaction of a predator scenting prey. The woman tossed her head of blonde curls and revealed her deadliest smile. "Is that so?" she tittered from behind one delicately manicured hand. She bent down, propping herself on her thin knees to look closely at Luke. "Little man, aren't you just darling! What else does Mama have to say?"

Still green and a little unsteady, Luke hid shyly behind Palpatine's robes. "Mama says don' talk to press people. Are you press people?"

"She mostly certainly is, Luke," Kenobi interjected with a sharp glance at the Chancellor. The look passed unseen by any other, and Palpatine carefully kept his own expression blank. Just an ignorant politician blindly muddling the waters, as usual.

Obi-Wan's narrow-mindedness toward Palpatine's kind made him swallow the excuse, but Palpatine could feel the perturbed longsuffering just under the surface.

Kakka Freetaan laughed and straightened, wobbling a little on her high heels in the soft grass. "I'm not just any press, Master Kenobi. I'd guess over three trillion beings watch my show regularly."

Kenobi's complexion was quickly matching Luke's, Palpatine noticed.

"Now, down to business. This is quite a startling admission from Anakin Skywalker's child, Master Kenobi," Freetaan said. "My listeners would like to know just what kind of work you and the Duchess did together."

His face going red under the light auburn beard, Kenobi offered slight bow. "I'm afraid that information is confidential."

Freetaan lit up with a low purr. "I'm sure it is, but the question is why…"

She winked. Kenobi stared. His horrified embarrassment rang through the Force.

"Perhaps the two of you should chat," Palpatine patted the Jedi master's shoulder and offered a sympathetic grin. "I'm sure I can manage the twins on my own, Master Kenobi."

Kenobi's mouth opened and snapped shut several times as Palpatine, the twins (Leia still protesting over the swings), and the guards moved out of the park toward the shuttle. The reporter ignored their exit, having found a priceless vein of juicy information, and she sidled closer to him, a large smile spreading across her perfect features. "Just the two of us," she said, reaching out to touch the bristling beard.

Then: "Wait up, Your Excellency!" And Kenobi came trotting after them, looking like he had single-handedly lost the Clone Wars. He barely met Palpatine's gaze, muttering, "It wouldn't feel right, offering to help and then not."

Misery loved company, and Kenobi liked babysitting the twins no more than the Sith Lord did. Petty revenge, perhaps, but… There really was no better feeling than setting up a scenario in which either outcome was equally to his favor, Palpatine mused as the Jedi fell into step beside him, and Luke and Leia dashed ahead.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Until it fell apart.

"I brought SweetLand!" Luke shouted, pulling the Naboo child's game from his travel bag and waving it excitedly in the air. The pieces rattled inside ominously. "Let's play!"

Let's not. Palpatine sighed at the exact same moment as Obi-Wan Kenobi, and they exchanged surprised, slightly guilty glances. That wasn't supposed to happen.

After Palpatine had switched out his boots for a pair not covered in Dex's cooking, they stood inside the living room of one of the finest apartment suites that 500 Republica could offer, surrounded by Palpatine's priceless collection of fine arts. The guards had retired to the doors, doubtless relieved to have the twins corralled in one place and assuring the Chancellor that they would be on hand to assist.

Obi-Wan looked distinctly uncomfortable standing in the lair of that most dreaded species: politicians. Everything was finery and extravagance, everything he stood against as a simple Jedi. Simple-minded, more like, Palpatine thought as he took in his apartment. He had earned every bit of this through blood, sweat, and tears.

Of course, Palpatine reflected thoughtfully… most of that came from other beings, but he had done the work. Why should he not enjoy the fruits of his labor?

In the end, Luke got his way, and the four of them gathered around the table in Palpatine's dining room, staring down at the garishly designed gameboard. Then Luke disappeared back into the guest bedroom to find something else, though no one could make out exactly what. Obi-Wan shrugged and slunk off in pursuit.

Palpatine suppressed a long-suffering sigh; Sweetland was perhaps his least favorite game of all, due in no small part to the fact that he never managed to win it, young or old. Give him dejarik or holochess and half a dozen other games that drew the most brilliant minds, and he could overpower them all.

Give him Sweetland, and he routinely lost. Which, come to think of it, had to be impossible since the game was based entirely on chance. The laws of probability should have intervened by now. Leia reached over and pressed the bright red gungan figure into his hand. "I'm gween," she beamed up at him. "You're red. Like Fett Day."

"It's Fete," he automatically corrected, "and it happens to be a series of festivals. Red and green are not the only colors included…" he trailed off. She had pulled herself up into his lap and tugged one of his voluminous dark sleeves closer as an impromptu security blanket. In the Force, he could feel her exhaustion from the day's events.

He saved himself the lecture with a low sigh, shifted her bony knee away from his ribs, and watched Obi-Wan Kenobi attempt to corral Luke just beyond the dining room, who showed no signs of slowing down. "A couple games, Luke, and then we have to go to bed," he heard the Jedi Master cajoling. Was that…frustration he heard in the genteel Jedi?

Palpatine smiled.

The smile disappeared when Kenobi finally got Luke into his seat and the game commenced.

"There is no skill at all in this game," Palpatine protested barely ten minutes later as Kenobi took his piece and moved it back to the start of the board. "Pure blind chance."

"Well, whether you believe in luck or not, Chancellor," Kenobi drawled, "You seem to have less of it than I do." He nodded at his own piece, which was nearly to the end of the board. Luke's piece seemed to jump at random all over the board; three year olds were not the best counters to be found. Leia's piece sat stubbornly on the starting block, as she had almost instantly fallen asleep under the warmth of his sleeve.

After three rounds of the Gungan-designed game (go figure), Palpatine wondered if he had died of sheer boredom and entered the Netherworld. He honestly didn't believe it existed, but now… The only thing that had him convinced he still lived was Obi-Wan Kenobi's pained silence across from him, his misery a soothing balm. The Sith afterlife would never accept that self-righteous, straight-laced do-gooder.

Palpatine's right arm and leg were nearly numb where Leia lay draped over him like a limp Mandalorian noodle, snoring quietly, but still he didn't move her. After all, it wouldn't do to show anything less than utter selflessness in front of the Jedi scum. The mild-mannered Chancellor certainly would never think of Anakin's charming offspring as agents of Chaos.

But each day, Sidious did more and more.

Take the moment for example. By simply existing in time and space, Leia had rendered inert the most powerful of all Sith Lords. She yawned, and a thin stream of drool trailed across the wrist of his robes and onto his hand. He was not grossed out. He was not.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

He is. He totally is. There's the key to defeating him, Jedi Order. You're welcome.

Evidently we Sith have trouble with Candyland, no matter its incarnation. Thanks for all your lovely reviews/favs/follows, and let me know what you thought of the latest chapter!