#anakanon typically angst u know

[nevertheless-moving]

This Crackship has Inspired Me

inspired by this by @maulusque which is the funniest star wars ship i’m somehow only learning about just now.

Palpatine listened with the same idle half attentiveness he always reserved for Skywalker’s ramblings about his wife, smiling and nodding genially at the appropriate intervals. At least his rants about blasted Kenobi or his monstrous little Padawan yielded tactical insights into the Jedi Order’s weaknesses. 

There was very little he could do with ‘shine of Senator Amidala’s hair’ or the ‘brilliance of his speeches.’ Of course, he always found something to use but there was an awful lot of nonsense to sift through.

“...I still can’t believe she married me. I don’t know if I’ve ever been more...” Skywalker trailed off.

“You deserve every happiness, my boy.” Palpatine said kindly.

Anakin looked down, a shadow falling over his face. He stared into his drink.

“What is it?” Sidious pried gently.

Skywalker hesitated. “Can I tell you something...and can you promise not to...think to badly of me for it?”

Palpatine leaned forward, disguising his keen interest behind a reassuring ‘genuine-warm-smile.’ “Of course, Anakin. I couldn’t lose my confidence in you anymore than you could lose yours in me.”

The anxious Knight took a fortifying sip of Soulean brandy before leaning forward and confessing in a low whisper, “I was happy of course during our wedding- but- more than that- I felt. Satisfied. Victorious. I mean.” Skywalker took another gulp. “Jedi aren’t supposed to get, you know, possessive of people. And slaves...its complicated.” 

“Whatever you say, I promise it will never leave this room.” Palpatine encouraged him with his best grandfatherly-tone.

“On Tatooine...” Skywalker’s voice was barely audible, and Palpatine had to restrain himself from shaking the words out of him. The boy typically preferred not to discuss his most easily manipulated vulnerability.

“In the slave quarters...the most valuable thing a person can own is themselves. And even if you can’t be free- you can choose to have a different master. It’s not- it’s not the most common form of s-secret marriage. Or even the most approved. It’s actually a little taboo.”

Skywalker hunched in on himself and Sidious kept his face gently neutral.

“But- I remember feeling so good when I won that podrace. I earned something important and it was me who did it. And this was better than that. Padme- she didn’t even love me that much at first - I think I was always going to let her have me, if she just asked. It was one of the first things I thought when she walked in- It was one of the first things I thought when anyone wealthy looking came in the shop, ‘what if they buy me?’ And she was so clean and beautiful and I thought that if it was her maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. But somehow I won her and she chose to bind herself to me. So...we both kind-of have each other but-”

Skywalker dropped his head in his hands.

“It’s probably wrong- I know it’s wrong- but winning her? A smart, headstrong, gorgeous person who should by all rights want nothing to do with me- I don’t think I’ll ever match that sense of victory. Of power. No matter how many battles I win or enemies I destroy. And- that’s what I felt during my wedding.” 

Palpatine leaned back, impressed despite himself. He had always despaired over the boy’s seeming lack of desire for power for its own sake. But that was almost...poetic. He had never been much for ‘romance’ but he did very much enjoy when his enemies chose, under their own power, to play into his hands. Making that happen on such an intimate level... well he could almost see the appeal. 

Out-loud he said, “I think that feeling is perfectly natural, my boy. Nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Really?” Anakin said, pathetically hopefully.

How to phrase this...

“I myself enjoy a sense of, well, power, over others. From time to time. Of course, I know its not the same, but when I manage to pass a tricky piece of legislation the feeling of winning over another often personally overshadows my anticipation of the joy my work will bring. It’s perfectly normal and harmless. It’s not as though that feeling of victory over another diminishes the good my actions do. And you and the Senator are so very good together. Don’t let shame yourself for a...harmless bit of perceived darkness.”

He clasped Anakin on the shoulder and the idiot beamed back at him adoringly. 

Long after the evening ended and his future Apprentice departed, Darth Sidious sat in his office musing.

A simple probing into an exploitable flaw had revealed a dimension of power Palpatine had, shockingly, never considered. Sex was enjoyable, but ultimately not a priority. And rape was one of the less creative forms of torture. But love- tricking someone into falling in love- earning someone’s absolute devotion- there was a certain appeal. 

Obviously he had sycophants by the score, but Skywalker had incredibly said it himself: ‘a smart, headstrong, gorgeous person who should hate him.’ Now that would be a triumph. And Senator Amidala even knew about her husband’s less traditionally tasteful sides! Anakin really had pulled off a bizarre coop, hadn’t he? His pretty face probably helped give the whole process a boost, but Sheev had a rather impressive amount of personal wealth in need of a new mechanism for display that should serve the same function. He decided to keep the matter under consideration.

A week later, during a briefing with Commander Fox- who he would decommission for the sheer number of senatorial secrets he possessed were he not proving so uniquely invaluable at suppressing food shortage riots- the idea reemerged.

It would tie up a number of loose ends if those secrets were wholly under my control- and there would be a delicious irony in having one of my most elegantly designed weapons choose to serve me so completely before the choice was taken away...

Palpatine was nothing if not patient, and decided to bide his time, carefully observing before committing any real energy or resources.

Another week after that, the Commander came in for another meeting, absolutely professional but clearly projecting the wincing sensation of a hangover as well as...nerves? The over-promoted clone was usually freakishly adept at maintaining natural mental shielding, but apparently the over-indulgence had weakened him. 

Throughout the briefing the nerves gradually hardened into determination before his typical mental walls came up to block any other easily-gleaned insights. Palpatine was intrigued.

After the conclusion of their scheduled business, Fox cleared his throat. “That’s a very...flattering robe you’re wearing.”

Palpatine raised a brow. The commander usually didn’t try flattery on him, not because it never worked, but simply because he seemed to find it beneath his skills.

“That’s very kind of you to say, Commander.”

“I can be very...kind. When the mood strikes me. And red is a very...striking color on you.” Palpatine blinked rapidly, genuinely shocked for the first time in quite a while. That was absolutely a suggestive tone of voice. Could his mere idle thoughts somehow have already manifested themselves?

“Oh?” Palpatine responded calmly. “I can’t say I knew that, Commander.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, sir.” He drew out the last syllable in a... new way. Typically when the Guard Leader said ‘sir’ it was either sarcastic, neutral, or inexplicably pronounced like a slur. This time he seemed to caress the word in a manner that wouldn’t be out of place in a bedroom.

Before Palpatine could think of how he wanted to reply, the clone bowed lowly and marched towards the door. At the exit he paused and pulled off his helmet.

Free of the vocalizer, his voice was much smoother, “And please, when we’re alone...feel free to call me Fox. Sir.”

“Thank you, Fox. Safe travels,” Palpatine called weakly as the figure slipped away.

Palpatine leaned back, grinning wickedly. Well. This was an interesting development.