He couldn't stray too far from the truth; there was no other possible explanation for the ring. But the details could be amended. "I asked Vader who my mother was. The following day the ring was delivered to my quarters." He was committed now; he'd lied to his Master. He'd done so many times before but not like this; Palpatine reduced to cold fury, so much in the balance... Focus; concentrate! Don't slip now.
The Emperor remained motionless for long seconds, the brittle stillness charging the air like the air before a storm. His head tilted just slightly though he didn't turn, as if simply seeing the boy would tip his anger over the edge. "What did he tell you?"
Did he believe? Or was he simply giving Luke the chance to further condemn himself, compounding lies with lies. Should he go on or stop now, whilst he could still back down? Too late, in truth; too late already- but he had to minimise his father's part in this. He couldn't deny or conceal it; the link between his father and the ring was categorical... but he could minimise it; disguise one truth behind another. Give Palpatine something to rail at and in doing so disperse the storm.
"Nothing. Save that she was dead; that I shouldn't concern myself with matters which were long gone." His heart was pounding, but Luke kept his eyes down, kept himself centred, mind buzzing.
Palpatine finally turned, face the thinnest veneer of calm, "Then why do you wear the ring?"
Luke looked up, forced himself to meet that hostile gaze, unable to keep the defensive cast from hardening his own eyes, "Because she was my mother."
Again Palpatine fell silent and again Luke feared that he was being given enough rope to hang himself. He'd been unable to contact his father on his way here and regretted it now, seeing the look in his Master's eyes. If Palpatine lashed out - if Luke was dragged to the cells beneath the Palace - the Vader would face his Master's wrath unprepared.
Finally Palpatine set his head to one side, voice disbelieving, "And yet when your father would tell you nothing- you simply accepted that?"
"No," Luke glanced away, arranging a trace of frustration on his face, clenching his jaw momentarily, "I didn't accept it. We argued. He told me it wasn't my concern." A retelling of the same facts, carefully rearranged; a fine line between seeming reluctant to elaborate, which was the sure sign of a lie and, knowing it was exactly that, being unwilling to provide any more than was absolutely necessary; complications would be difficult to keep track of. He'd played this game too many times- though not often with these stakes.
"The decision wasn't his to make- shouldn't be." Luke added, wishing to seem still infuriated by is father's reticence, to underline their continued enmity. "Whatever rights he thinks he has, he gave up long ago."
.
Palpatine stared for a long time at his errant Jedi, still knelt in genuflection before him. So long that the boy's gaze finally faltered and he looked to the ground, knowing he was the one at fault here. And he was at fault; he was Palpatine's, and Palpatine's alone. There were no rivals- he knew that. "Every time I have a reason to trust you... you give me one to doubt."
The boy at least had the good grace to keep his head down and remain silent. Was he truly penitent or was this simply a masquerade; had he learned these games too well? Palpatine fell to sullen silence, studying the boy, aware that so much was hidden. How could it not be, that he remained always a blank slate before his Master's searching senses?
"Stand up and look at me."
Now he did sense the short, sharp twist of nerves as the boy stood, adrenalin burning in his chest. Sensed the resolve he called on to lift his head and look his Master in the eye. Watched his chest rise in short breaths, noted his realisation of this as he forced calm, steady breathing. Nothing truly telling though, save that he was nervous - but then he was right to be so.
Palpatine took three quick steps toward his Jedi and held his gaze captive in a sharp, judgmental stare, "Are you lying to me?"
The boy held his glare and didn't blink. "No Master." He murmured guilelessly with the slightest shake of his head.
Hide a truth within a truth; that was what Palpatine did- had he learned at the feet of the Master?
The Emperor held that doleful stare, ochre eyes narrowing in scrutiny, and the boy's gaze met his, neither belligerent nor conceding. They remained still for long moments, Palpatine reaching out with the Force, bringing all his astute experience to bear, the boy remaining still, wrapped about by a forced calm, whatever he had hidden too veiled to sense. Finally Palpatine twisted away, frustrated, the dark folds of his heavy robes rendering him a shadow in the falling dusk as he considered for long seconds...
When he turned back, in the palm of his pale, gaunt hand was the ring, still stained by a slick of dry blood.
He saw the boy's eyes go to the ring and knew how much it meant; that this wasn't about his realisation that he had misstepped in owning the ring, it wasn't even about protecting some perceived obligation to his father. He was here because he wanted the ring back.
Wanted the ring why- because of who it had belonged to? Because of some imagined bond with a woman he'd never known, whose only connection was to have carried him? A burst of resentment blazed through the Emperor at that thought; that the boy would value her for no greater reason than biological necessity. That the commitment which Palpatine had fought long years to gain, the devotion he deserved was being freely given to another based on nothing more than genetic coincidence, leaving him in the galling position of having to defend his standing as the boy's only focus from a woman who was already dead, even her memory an unacceptable division of the boy's attention.
The slightest of bitter, biting smiles turned the corners of Palpatine's thin lips up, his expression hardening as he set forward, sense ablaze with grim intent- if the boy wanted he ring so very much then he could have it; but at a price. He would teach the lesson one more time that knowledge was power- and how one wielded it was everything.
The sound- that sound- the crumpled crush of heavy fabric over hard floor as Palpatine started forward, still had the power to cut through Luke, taking him instantly back to the cell below the Palace, the harsh, harrowing, agonizing grind of pain and provocation brought to bear every time his pitiless tormentor entered the cell to the scratching whisper of drawn cloth. Controls and compulsions wrapped about memories too intense to step back from, even now- as he was sure the Sith Master had intended.
Palpatine's spiteful words were bitten out with grating rancour as he drew closer, face twisted in distain, "Your mother was a traitor. While she attended the Senate she was spreading lies and dissent, undermining its authority and attempting to widen the fractures in the failing Republic. She came to power based on her oposition to the Separatists, but as her power base grew she questioned the actions of the Senate against them- she supported those who warred against the Old Republic you so venerate. She was deliberately and directly responsible for the removal of the last true Supreme Chancellor of the Senate, Finis Valorum. She instigated the vote of No Confidence; her actions brought him down- did your father tell you that?"
The boy's chin raised at this, fire in his eyes, and though he didn't speak Palpatine knew he had scored a blow.
"She led the Delegation of Two Thousand, the act which effectively split the Senate in two; polarised it and weakened it beyond retrieval. Betrayed and undermined and fractured the Republic she claimed to serve... and your father forgave her. Repeatedly looked the other way because he was weak. But he paid for his pitiful flaw; he was taught the harshest lesson."