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Palpatine had never been an indulgent man. He remembered the first time he read about the early philosophies of the Sith, of how they revelled in every emotion and drunk deep of every passion, and how he had thought them primitives. He knew long before Plagueis had found him that in the pursuit of greater power, he would need a far more practical set of principles. Thus, so long ago now, Palpatine had constructed a process, a persona, that had allowed him to walk amongst the most perceptive of Jedi unnoticed. Instead of basking in the glory of his many successes, he had quietly filed them away, put them in their useful place until they were needed again. Palpatine had been patient, and patient he still was.
But as Palpatine gazed across the Great Hall of the Jedi Temple, the rich scent of darkness drew a twisted smile to bloodless lips. The large, pale marble expanse was littered with the bodies of Jedi. Their still, lifeless corpses were twisted at odd angles, wrapped up in piles of robes of brown and cream. Old and young, every species alike…his new apprentice had slaughtered indiscriminately.
And the results were enthralling. Sublime. Beyond anything he had felt before. The Force clung keenly to the ends of his crimson robes as Palpatine passed easily through the silent carnage. He could barely saw the bodies he passed, the physical realm beneath far beneath his notice. The dark side was alive with energy, raw passion made manifest! But it wasn’t the taste of death that drew him in. It wasn’t the last dim flickers of the light side of the Force. It wasn’t even the defeat of his greatest obstacle to power.
Palpatine’s eyes closed, and his nostrils flared as he recognized his favourite brand of power filling every shadow in the room: Ah…machination. Yes, to the casual Force-sensitive, this would appear to be the work of a rather pleasing desperate and distraught young Sith. But it was Palpatine who had created this darkness, this calamity in the Force.
The darkness recognized its master’s true hand. It swirled around Palpatine like a vortex, decadent, inviting him into deeper waters, tempting him to indulge. But Palpatine had never been an indulgent man.
So it was with meaning, with purpose, that Palpatine had set forward into this once sacred temple, a full complement of red guards in tow. There were only a few members of the 501st legion left on this level, assigned to carefully identifying and categorizing the dead. Upon recognizing their Supreme Commander through new injuries, they snapped to an uneasy attention. Palpatine hardly noticed.
It was a matted mess of dark blond hair that drew his eye. There was his prize. Palpatine slowed to a halt, pausing to admire the boy. Anakin Skywalker, now Darth Vader, stood in the shadow of a tall pillar, his back pressed against the temple wall. His shoulders were slouched, armed crossed, and his…ah, yellow eyes appeared fixated with the floor. Yes, it was clear that Anakin had wavered from his new path from the slump in his stance alone. Palpatine briefly wondered if he’d ever be able to train this uncomplicated creature not to telegraph his emotions so blatantly.
With a simple gesture, his red guard remained in place as Palpatine set forward. Amusingly, Anakin still appeared not to notice Palpatine, so lost he was in his own thoughts.
“It’s tradition for a Sith apprentice to kneel as their Master approaches,” Palpatine lightly reprimanded, alerting Anakin to his presence. The lesson was quite serious, of course, but Palpatine allowed his amusement to colour his tone. His advocate would learn soon enough.
Anakin glanced up at Palpatine’s words, golden eyes distant and confused for a moment. He blinked several times, attempting to stir himself from deep reverie, then quickly stepped down onto one knee, pleasingly compliant as ever. “Forgive me, Master,’ the boy said, voice noticeably devoid of emotion.
Palpatine waved a graciously dismissive hand. “Of course. Tell me of your successes, my friend.”
With Anakin’s head bowed in reverence, or perhaps in exhaustion, Palpatine was unable to read his expression. But he delivered his report with the expected discipline and diligence of a soldier. “The operation has been…efficient. The Jedi were unprepared for the attack, so we’ve suffered minimal casualties to the legion. Commander Appo has taken most of the men for a final sweep of the Temple Spire, and a battalion has been sent to secure all hanger bays. I’ve remained in the Great Hall with a few men to begin identifying the dead. But early estimates indicate close to…nine hundred Jedi casualties.”
Palpatine smiled patiently down at his servant. Reaching out, he ran a hand through those dark blonde curls, affectionate and possessive. “Yes, you must have been quite the sight to behold,” Palpatine mused, pausing to imagine just how well such bloodlust must suit the boy. “And yet…”
Pale fingers untwined from golden hair and traced a path down Anakin’s cheek, then tenderly seized his jaw.
“Look at me.” Palpatine commanded smoothly, and with a gentle Force he guided Anakin’s chin upwards.
Anakin yielded to the pressure, pliant before the elder Sith. His eyes finally lifted from the ground and the moment they did, Palpatine held them captive, and peered deep into Anakin’s soul with practiced ease. It was clear the younger Sith was uncomfortable with this, not least of all due to being forced to confront the severity of Palpatine’s new injuries. But Anakin’s comfort was irrelevant; the boy was hiding the truth from Palpatine, and Vader must learn that there’s nothing he can hide from his Master.
Palpatine tilted his head to the side, finding everything he needed in those eyes. “Such passion, such power it must have taken to cut down so many Jedi in their prime,” Palpatine began. “…where is that fire now, hm? Where is that darkness? Why is it when I gaze into those golden eyes, my dear apprentice…I see nothing?”
Anakin froze for a moment, wide eyed, like a deer caught in perceptive yellow headlights. “I…” He hesitated…then pulled his head sidewards out of Palpatine’s grasp, dropping his gaze and breaking the visual contact again, the proud and stubborn creature that he was. When he finally managed to form a sentence, his words were defensive, but the cracks in his armour were showing. “I-I had it, I was more powerful than any Jedi, I defeated their Masters, a-and I can do it again! I did everything you asked, I ju- “
“Everything I asked?” Palpatine mimicked venomously. “Then why, pray tell, is my Sith general not in the spire, hunting down the last of my enemies? Why is he here, prowling in the shadows, dwelling in self-doubt?”
“I…I…” And as Anakin desperately grasped to defend his failure, Palpatine leaned in close, his lips almost touching the boy’s ear. He had no interest in excuses today.
So Palpatine spoke plainly, cutting cleanly through that wilful denial. “You hesitated,” he stated simply, his words condemning. “You wavered. You allowed yourself to feel pity. For these…traitors. And for yourself. And so, at the height of your passion and power, you disconnected. You cut yourself off. All that fuel for the fire…wasted.”
Palpatine paused and pulled away from the Anakin, affording him the mental and physical space to accept his Master’s assessment and recognize his failings. In truth, Palpatine had expected this. Anakin had an impressive capacity for emotion, and a rather unimpressive amount of restraint. Time and time again, the impassioned youth had thrown himself into unwise affairs, questionable commitments, and even fits of murderous rage, all in the name of his desires. Coupled with his intense connection to the Force, Palpatine often regarded Anakin as almost elemental; a powerful, irrational force of nature, sweeping up and inevitably destroying everything in his path. The prospect of taming such primal power, of honing it into something obedient and refined filled Palpatine with eager anticipation.
But in first isolating Anakin, binding him to Palpatine, that power had to be twisted and unleashed against the Jedi. It was a trivial matter to feed Anakin’s fear, direct his sights towards the Jedi and simply allow the boy to do as he has always done. Ah, but nothing holds a Sith back like the long-ingrained chains of morality. His new apprentice felt guilty. Those last, lingering doubts would be the hardest to banish.
But that wasn’t entirely necessary yet. No, Palpatine simply needed to refuel Anakin with enough passion that he would mindlessly allow his Master to guide him through these last, vital steps. Palpatine glared down at the boy, watched as the comprehension of his failure finally coloured his eyes with shame, and, without a trace of mercy, Palpatine prepared to feed the deepest fears of this…chosen one.
“Understand, Anakin, that it’s not enough to simply draw on the dark side when it’s convenient to you. You can no longer afford the privilege of pausing to consult your moral compass, nor the liberty of indulging weakness,” Palpatine stated. He smiled gently, placing a fatherly hand on his servant’s shoulder. “Not if you truly desire the power to save Padmé.”
There it is. Anakin’s eyes shot upwards to meet his Master’s, his jaw clenched and his nostrils flaring. Around the boy, the darkness that had been watching patiently, expectantly, began to stir and swirl as fear turned into desperate fury. “I will do anything to save her…anything,” he declared, his voice equal parts ferociously determined and utterly broken. “Just tell me what I have to do.”
His hand still resting on Anakin’s shoulder, Palpatine narrowed his eyes, considering. Some of that wild passion had returned to the boy. Padmé had been most useful to Palpatine over the years, even if unwittingly so. Love might just have been one of Palpatine’s very favourite vulnerabilities. But the fear and desperation it drove could only take a Sith so far. Even here, at the centre of darkness, Anakin was still missing something. Something more primal, more animalistic…
Suddenly, an idea occurred to the Sith Master, as dangerous as it was deliciously compelling. But he had been patient, he had watched and waited, pulling strings from the shadows. As he stood in the halls of his victory, his chosen servant to heel and his Empire mere hours from creation, Palpatine wondered…why shouldn’t he indulge? All that planning, all that machination…was it not the time to finally begin to shed the persona of Palpatine?
Yes…
He smiled down at Anakin. “My apprentice,” Palpatine purred, “I will show you.” He turned his back on the boy and gestured elegantly.
“Rise, and walk with me,” he commanded.
Anakin frowned as he stood, confused but clearly eager to learn what Palpatine had to teach. Falling into place at Palpatine’s right, the two Sith silently walked the halls of the temple, his red guard following in close formation. As they walked, Palpatine carefully calculated, drawing deeply from the well of darkness, and tracing every potential path, searching through every possible outcome. This was a particular talent of the Sith Master, to interpret that complex tapestry of potential outcomes and shapes the fates themselves. Already, Palpatine had begun to piece together this new pathway.
From the corner of his vision, Palpatine could see the boy beginning to fidget, impatient to learn Palpatine’s secrets. As was his nature, Anakin spoke out. “My Lord, how much longer are we going to-“
“Here.” Palpatine stopped walking abruptly, indicating towards a door on his right. Anakin met his Master’s eyes for a moment with open curiosity, clearly having sensed a shift in Palpatine. But he simply nodded and, using the Force to open the door, walked inside the indicated room. Palpatine watched him stride confidently, pleased as, finally, the boy obeyed without hesitation.
Palpatine lingered at the doorway a moment longer, breathing in the scent of gunfire and death, committing it to memory. The beast inside him purred with anticipation. “Let no one in,” he ordered softly over his shoulder as he entered the room, leaving his guards behind.
He closed the door behind him with the Force, delighting in his new freedom to use the dark side as he pleased, and what he found before him was a magnificent sight: The room was small, empty, and almost entirely uninteresting but for a large window behind Anakin that made up the entire wall. Outside it was still night, but fires of the temple burning outside lit up the room brightly with a vicious orange light, shadows dancing on the walls as the flames destroyed all they touched. And at the centre of the room stood Anakin, his fiery backdrop granting his features a dark and dangerous edge.
Palpatine remained standing at the door. He smiled at his apprentice the way a predator smiles as it corners its prey. He had always found the boy beautiful, but the past few years had done Anakin many favours. The awkward teen had grown into a man and learnt how to carry his muscular body with grace. Strong, yet agile, built like a vornskr in its prime. Palpatine ran appraising eyes over his servant’s body and allowed the dark side to crawl along his own spine and up his neck enticingly as it begged its master for release.
“Anakin." Palpatine savoured every breathy syllable, letting the taste of the name please his palate. He began to stalk along the edge of the room with slow, deliberate steps. Recognizing a change in the air, Anakin’s stance widened reflexively, and the Force tightened around his mind and body defensively. The clever duellist’s eyes fixated on Palpatine’s movements, his hand shifting slightly to brush against his saber.
“What is this?” Anakin demanded in a rather impressively confident tone. Palpatine had reduced many to trembling fear with far less.
Palpatine’s smile slipped away as his vision flickered down to Anakin’s saber hand meaningfully, then back into the boy’s wary eyes. He shook his head slowly, meaningfully. “Don’t resist me,” Palpatine hissed, his voice quiet and confident, the threat implicit. He watched as his apprentice’s stance remained unchanged. The dark side crackled dangerously around Palpatine, the air in the room charged with unseeable energy. “Don’t resist.”
Continuing to slowly circle, Palpatine waited. Anakin would obey. Anakin needed Palpatine, his knowledge and his mastery, to save his wife after all. Yes…definitely his favourite weakness. Palpatine had only to count the seconds before the boy faltered.
One…
Two…
Anakin blinked twice quickly, his focus momentarily lost, and with a low snarl, Palpatine struck instantly. He allowed the floodgates to open, the dark side searing through his veins, and striking out with his palm, the Sith Master sent his servant flying backwards, his spine colliding painfully with the wall behind him. The Force empowering his speed, Palpatine was upon the younger Sith before Anakin had even registered what had happened. A cruel, empowered hand swiftly grasped a handful of dark blonde hair while another hand pressed against Anakin chest, powerfully pinning his entire body in place. And as Anakin finally parted his lips to howl in pain and protest, Palpatine stuck his tongue down the boy’s throat.
Anakin’s mouth was wet, and his Master’s tongue was forceful and demanding. As Anakin tried to twist his head away, Palpatine release his grip on the boy’s hair, trailing his claws viciously down Anakin’s cheek before seizing his jaw tightly, forcing it open. The kiss was sloppy and invasive, and so close to his young servant, Palpatine could feel as the boy bristled with horror and humiliation at the act. After several seconds, Palpatine smirked triumphantly as he withdrew his tongue only grudgingly.
His face still close enough to feel the heat of Anakin’s shuddering breath, Palpatine watched a pleasing blush tinge the apprentice’s cheeks red. The young Sith’s mouth remained open, his lips glistening with saliva as he gapped desperately around words he couldn’t find. Palpatine chuckled softly, enjoying the boy’s confused outrage almost as much as he had enjoyed the boy’s throat.
“I…don’t want this,” Anakin eventually forced out, his voice a furious hiss. He desperately attempted to escape from the darkness that held him in place, his arms and legs still pinned uselessly to the wall. But Palpatine’s desire empowered his control over the dark side, and over the boy too. Still grinning with great satisfaction, Palpatine released the boy’s jaw and trailed a path down Anakin’s chest, clever fingers toying with the clasp on his belt.
“Anything, you said. Do you remember?” Palpatine stared deep into the young Sith’s eyes, pleased with their new golden hue. “You’d do anything to save her.” Palpatine dropped his tone, made his voice low and hypnotic, knowing how it would affect the boy. “We are Sith, Anakin. Creatures of passion. Of aggression and hate, of pain…but also pleasure,” he patiently explained. “To achieve power over life and death, you must understand every aspect of the dark side.” Confident the boy would at least stay put, Palpatine released the pressure pinning Anakin to the wall and was rewarded with the satisfying thud of a heavy belt hitting the floor. “I will show you pleasure, my apprentice.”
Utterly committed to saving the girl, Anakin did not try to run, but he was unable to resist craning his neck and twisting his head away, determined to create a distance between himself and the deformed Sith Lord. “There is nothing that you can teach me about pleasure,” Anakin growled, his revulsion at the thought quite clear.
Palpatine laughed openly. “Ah yes, my injuries repulse you,” he stated easily, entirely unperturbed. “You forget, Anakin, that we are far more than just this…crude matter.” As he said it, Palpatine reached deep inside Anakin’s mind and fed him all of the lust, desire, and arousal that the Sith Master felt. He stroked his fingers through Anakin’s hair and as he did, he gently, teasingly stroked the boy’s mind with pleasure.
Unprepared for such a perversion of the Force, the boy shuddered and leaned into Palpatine’s touch instinctively, greedily striving to increase that gentle friction. A needy moan escaped Anakin’s lips as Palpatine withdrew his hand and slid his fingers beneath the fabric of Anakin’s tunic. In the seconds it took Anakin to remember his dignity, his upper layers had already slid to the ground, along with his cloak.
Palpatine possessively ran his fingertips over his apprentice’s bare chest, patient as Anakin processed what had happened. “What was that?” he asked breathlessly, much of his defiance lost to the passing moment of bliss. The boy had no defences against this.
Offering an approving hum, Palpatine continued to trace the contours of every muscle in Anakin’s torso, luxuriating in the sight. “Oh, you will learn this power. But first, you will be consumed by it.” Palpatine’s eyes flitted upwards to meet his apprentices for a moment, then trailed back down the boy’s chest as he ran a finger over one of Anakin’s nipples. “Tell me that you want it.”
Anakin swallowed, hesitating. But after a pause, the boy shook his head, refusing to be drawn in. “No. I won’t do that. Padmé is the onl-AHH!”
Palpatine face abruptly contorted with anger as he squeezed the boy’s nipple between his thumb and forefinger, digging in hard with his nail. Drinking in Anakin’s suffering with easy sadistic joy, Palpatine allowed his pleasure to spill into his apprentice’s thoughts, overwhelming his senses with pain and arousal. Anakin’s back arched and his fingers grasped uselessly at the wall behind him. But, to Palpatine’s intense frustration, the boy bit down on his lower lip, refusing the Sith Master the satisfaction of another wanting moan.
Once again, just as soon as Anakin had felt it, the pleasure faded. Palpatine released his grasp and broke the mental connection again, smoothing his expression back over with the ease of a practiced politician. Truthfully, Palpatine found himself enjoying this little bout of resistance. As his mentor and confidant for many years, Anakin had never had an opportunity to resist the Chancellor, complete trust carefully instilled in the child from a young age. This more…direct path to control allowed the boy a chance to push back, to witness his resolve crumble as he fell to his knees in willing submission. Less effective, yes. Ah, but how Palpatine enjoyed watching his servant struggle.
Smiling confidently, Palpatine closed the last of the distance between them, his chest pressed against Anakin’s as he snaked a hand up the back of the boy’s neck. “I told you not to resist,” Palpatine teased.
Anakin didn’t respond. It appeared he no longer knew what to say. To resist his Master’s lessons was to deny the knowledge that could save Padmé’s life. It was a wonderfully inhibiting trap that saw Anakin’s body pliant and yielding. Palpatine pressed two fingers into the back of his apprentice’s neck, massaging a tender muscle, stroking up and down repeatedly. With every rub along the back of the Anakin’s neck, Palpatine channelled pleasure through his mind again, this time with a steady, unrelenting rhythm. He would build the boy up as he broke down his mind.
“My dear one,” Palpatine murmured as Anakin shivered, “you told me once that you burned like a sun inside. Your power is unlimited and bound only by the chains in your mind. I see everything that holds you back, Anakin. Every bad habit they’ve ingrained in you. But worry not. I will unstitch them all…one by one.”
Palpatine’s eyes were trained on the boy, wide with obsession, hungry with conquest. Anakin’s hips had begun to betray him, thrusting forward needily, pressing himself desperately against his Master. Palpatine hissed with victory and lust as he felt the boy growing hard.
“It begins here, Anakin. You think that to accept this pleasure is to betray your dear wife in some…noble and convoluted sense. What we do here we do in the name of power. We stoke the flames of our desires that we might see them engulf our enemies. This…has nothing to do with her.” Palpatine took the boy’s earlobe between his teeth affectionately for a moment before pressing his lips against Anakin’s ear. His next words were the softest whisper, a gift for the boy and the boy alone.
“She never has to know.”
For a moment, Palpatine was silent, listening intently to the tiny moans that had begun escaping Anakin’s throat, still gently rubbing the boy’s neck. He enjoyed how this simple motion, though admittedly empowered expertly with the Force, saw Anakin’s inhibitions so utterly and completely undone. Anakin’s nails were scraping the walls, his eyes were shut, and his head was thrown back, leaning into Palpatine’s touch. Push him, break him now…
“…Tell me that you want it.”
“Please…”
“Say it.”
“…I want it.”
Gratification saw the beast inside cackle wildly. Every victory over this elemental power was infinitely rewarding. But a greater triumph lay on the horizon, deliciously enticing. Palpatine slid down the boy’s trousers as he realized that the beast’s laughter was escaping his lips…
---
The fires outside continued to destroy the Jedi Temple. Palpatine had seen to it that all firespeeders would remain grounded. The flames would die when there was nothing left to consume.
Palpatine watched the destruction with trained detachment, finding his thoughts floating back to his diseased Master. Plagueis had died for his indulgences, drunk on victory, praises and Sullustan wine. Palpatine contemplated credits, pleasure, immortality, and power, and how they had all mesmerized his enemies long enough for him to slip a knife between their shoulder blades. To indulge was so often to fixate, and to fixate was to lose sight of any hidden threat. To indulge can so easily be to welcome death.
Ah, but if death can be avoided, indulgence can empower a Sith. One’s passions gratified brings pleasure, and pleasure can fuel the dark side. Palpatine sighed wistfully, reflecting on how fleeting every moment of pleasure really was for a Sith. There was always a new goal, an even greater conquest. The ambitious can never truly be sated, and there were none more ambitious than he.
Palpatine wondered if the fires would burn the entire temple to the ground.
From the floor beside him, the boy finally began to stir. Palpatine didn’t turn, already aware of how pitifully weak Anakin appeared; a curled-up mess of bruised limbs, his back covered in scratches, his inner thighs wet with blood, his apprentice was the very image of broken. But appearances could be so deceiving.
Internally, the boy had burned away the last whisps of pleasure that had clouded his judgement. Anakin was filled with fear, despair…and anger. The boy seethed with undisguised loathing. Palpatine could feel the boy’s searing yellow eyes piercing his side, and he knew that hate was for him. It was unavoidable, Palpatine supposed. Plagueis was foolish to have ever believed two Sith could co-exist any other way. A Sith Master embodied power, and his apprentice kneeled because he craved the same. There could be no understandings or partnerships. Palpatine would not be killed for allowing his servant too much free reign.
That is why Palpatine would never be defeated by Anakin. A part of the Sith Master, a part he afforded no weight, rather liked Anakin. He was spirited, passionate and headstrong…wild and free. But Palpatine knew that he could never trust the boy. He would bind this servant to him utterly, control him completely, and never once waver as Vader grew in power. This was Palpatine’s gift. To control and manipulate those around him. In this, he took pleasure. In the precise, calculated control of others, Palpatine indulged. Perhaps there was no risk in that. Through the perfect control of his servants, his lovers, and soon the galaxy, Palpatine would never be defeated. And in this too, there was much pleasure to be had. Maybe he was an indulgent man.
Palpatine smiled as he pieced together the individual fragments of his philosophy and found that, not for the hundredth time, each tenet fit together perfectly. Palpatine fondly recalled how Anakin used to disassemble his lightsaber into its tiny, mechanical parts, just for the satisfaction of seeing how each component fit precisely in its place, working together to form a powerful blade. Palpatine had just reassembled a far deadlier weapon.
He turned his head, finally ready to meet the boy’s accusatory glare. The dark side came to the Anakin with sharper precision now, his thoughts malicious, vindictive, and baying for blood. In appearance, Palpatine was reminded of an animal; naked, bloody, and vicious, waiting to strike any being who dared stray too close. But Palpatine met his apprentice’s glare evenly, his demeanour one of supreme confidence. He would never waver before this creature. Palpatine didn’t speak, waiting for Anakin to break the silence…
“…Vader,” he eventually spat.
Palpatine frowned slightly in confusion. “Hm?”
“It’s Vader,” the boy repeated. “Anakin is dead. I killed him so I could achieve the power to save…her. I gave up so much to become this. You could at least acknowledge that.” Oh, the resentment that burned in those hate-filled eyes.
Palpatine’s chin rose as he considered the creature on the ground before him. Yes…he supposed the boy had earned that much. Palpatine smirked, amused. “So be it. Vader then.”
But Vader was far from placated. “I trusted you. And you…you…” The boy was trembling with anger now, and the Force about him responded violently. The empty spaces in the room filled with metallic, grating, unnatural energy as hatred was made manifest. Everything began to shake.
So Palpatine knelt down easily beside his chosen one, removing a handkerchief from one of his sleeves, and delicately began to clean the blood between the Sith’s legs. As he did, he found exactly the right words to say. He always did.
“I did what was necessary to make you stronger. And I would do it again. Do you feel I betrayed your trust? Do you hate me? If I must become the subject of your hate, that you might hold life and death in the palm of your hand, then that is what I will be. The path of a Sith is not easy. It is paved with suffering. But we endure. Again and again, we endure. And one day, when you’ve survived through fear, pain, and torment enough to break any other man…you will thank me. Because you will know, Lord Vader, in that moment, that you are truly the master of your destiny.”
The room stilled. Palpatine knew the young Sith far too well, every carefully constructed sentence buying back the boy’s loyalty. Let him believe that Palpatine had taken his body as a purely selfless act. He would claim to welcome the boy’s hatred in the name of making him strong. And in playing the martyr, Vader would respect him. Vader would obey him.
His apprentice said nothing as Palpatine continued to clean the blood from his body. Once he was content with his work, Palpatine stood abruptly. “Dress yourself,” he commanded. And his servant did just that.
Palpatine waited patiently as Vader slipped quickly back into his clothes. At Palpatine’s gesture, he knelt once more before his Master. “You have a task on Mustafar, my friend.”
Vader nodded once. “I'll see to the separatist leaders, my Master.”
Palpatine nodded slowly, hiding his overwhelming gratification. Vader’s expression was hard, his eyes burned with fiery hatred, and his sense in the Force had darkened to something truly, deeply malicious. Something cruel. What a resounding success.
Ah…but to twist that knife just a little deeper…
Palpatine ran his fingers through the boy’s hair as he had grown so fond of doing. “Good. Do not fail me…”
“Or next time I fuck your ass, Lord Vader, I’ll make her watch.”
Cackling maniacally, Sidious turned and walked from the room without looking back.