Knew that somehow, some day, even she would betray him. As everyone he had ever trusted had.
And he wondered what the shadow-man in the mirror would do when she did...
"What do you see in the darkness when your demons come?" Palpatine's words whispered again.
Luke looked again to the man in the mirror, dressed in darkness... "I see you." he murmured quietly, knowing it absolutely.
Aware of her gaze on him, of her curiosity and her concern, he brought his eyes to her, "I see you." he said again out loud, arranging an empty smile about his features which pulled at deep scars.
.
.
.
That evening Luke stood quiet and brooding at the back of the huge, sumptuous State Ballroom, isolated and apart from the revelry around him, every iota of body-language demonstrating his terse, volatile temper, no-one daring to come near.
Palpatine sat on the dais at the head of the cavernous, grotesquely opulent hall, a rare 'public' appearance among the Royal Houses and diplomatic and planetary representatives who had attended the day's event, illustrating just how pleased he was with his accomplishments.
The gathering this evening was little more than a thinly-disguised celebration as far as Luke was concerned, and he had no stomach for it.
His 'Honour Compliment' of twelve Royal Guard had arrived at midday to accompany him to the wide private terrace where the act would take place, representatives from all the major Royal Houses, planetary systems and Trade Guilds in attendance, a wild mix of contradictory emotions whipped up into an unblockable frenzy by the anticipation, making him flinch at the intensity within the Force as he stepped out onto to terrace, security off the scale, conspicuously visible everywhere.
And then he was applauded. Applauded, the shouts and cheers from the gathered crowd making his stomach turn in disgust.
Even Palpatine stood, grinning provocatively, hands coming slowly together to maintain the applause as Luke walked deliberately forward, ignoring the assemblage, jaw clenched, eyes locked on his Master's. He reached the dais and stepped down onto one knee, Palpatine lifting his open hands, keeping the applause thundering about Luke for an eternity as he was forced to remain kneeling, the Emperor making a great act of being unable to order him to rise for the noise.
And so he'd closed his thoughts and his awareness; had shut off, as he'd learned to do here, face neutral, eyes glazed. Had let it all take place around him, somehow dismissed from it, as if viewing it through a pane of glass, in the same way that he viewed all life outside the Palace now; a distant haze of an old dream too far away to touch him anymore... She was dressed in gray when they brought her out, and he looked to the ground, jaw tightening. on the pale terrazzo of the wide terrace, he saw a scarlet drop appear to the side of his boot... then another. Realizing, he looked down to the clenched fist of left hand opening his fingers with difficulty, so tightly had they been clasped; he'd cut four perfect slices into the palm of his hand with his nails.
He was still staring at his hand when the shots cracked through the air, making him jerk just slightly. He didn't look. He owed her that much.
.
For Palpatine, watching his feral Jedi as he brooded in the farthest corner of the massive Ballroom with no attempt to even try to cover his disgust, the day had gone from strength to strength. Now he watched his Jedi with self-congratulating amusement, as the boy created a small island for himself in the crowds, everyone subconsciously diverting around him like a shoal of fish about a shark, no-one getting too close. Occasionally the odd Moff would consider approaching to curry favour, but at the last minute would kose his nerve and veer awkwardly away, followed every step of his retreat by those wonderful ice-blue eyes
It had been, from beginning to end, a wonderful day. Mothma's demise had finally put to rest two decades of irritation. Her precious Rebellion had never been a real threat fo course; without a Jedi to withstand the Sith they challenged, the Rebellion could never be any more than a minor nuisance, an inconvenience which, between brief bouts of anarchy, Palpatine manipulated to his own ends - except briefly. For a short time, they had held among them someone who had been capable of turning them into a real threat. Briefly, when his first Death Star had been destroyed, he had heard them roar. Then in their blind, reckless stupidity they had rejected that which could make them a power to be reckoned with - delivered him into the open arms of their enemy, no less.
They still had a Force-sensititve, Palpatine knew, and he would have to deal with her sooner or later. But she was untrained and of no immediate threat. Better to focus his efforts on that which he had alrealdy invested so much in creating. That which he derived so much pleasure from persuading and provoking.
Today had been the cruellest taunt Palpatine had engineered in a long time and he'd revelled in it, in the biting discomfort that his Jedi felt before it, the boy's determination not to allow his disquiet to show before his Master conflicting with his obvious burning desire to turn and simply walk away from this painstakingly-arranged circus.
It was, Palpatine reflected, the most wonderful irony- that the boy had argued for this, had demanded that he be given the satisfaction of hunting Mothma down for her attack on him but now, having to face the result of his accomplishments, was so profoundly, intensely uncomfortable. It provided the crowning glory to a perfect day. A flawless plan from beginning to end, the results surpassing his wildest expectations. From the day he had acknowledged Skywalker as Heir Apparent events had unfolded with unerring aim, requiring only the smallest nudges to guide them, channelling the boy closer and closer to this point of no return.
Skywalker had cut his last ties to the Rebellion- willingly; decisively, with full awareness of what he was doing. And he'd accepted his role here, by Palpatine's side. That was obvious in many subtle ways, but Mara had confirmed it with her own considered opinion of his actions over the last month, on her arrival at Palpatine's private quarters to deliver her report the evening that the Peerless had made orbit.
Though her opinion, if not her loyalty, would soon cease to be quite so reliable. Objectivity required impartiality, and he had long sensed her detachment wavering. Nothing specific, but then that in itself was relevant - when last she'd been here, the focus of her fascination had been quite clear; now those feelings seemed muted, completely buried. He didn't doubt her loyalty; he'd held her long enough to ensure that, and he had no desire to question too closely her sudden change- it was after all what he had always intended; for her to become close.
Close enough to hold Skywalker here.
Because Mara would never leave, her allegiance guaranteed, which meant that if she could hold him, neither would Skywalker. And even if she couldn't, she could still be used as leverage.
Hadn't he warned the boy often enough; if you have a weakness, others will use it against you.
His Jedi had not so much removed his major weakness, formerly the Rebellion, as simply exchanged it for another. Which was just as well, since despite his outward confidence, Palpatine knew that if he didn't have these levers, he would find the boy far more difficult to control.
He had already dealt with his connection to his father; broken it beyond repair. There was no association allowed between his two Sith; that would be intolerable- and far, far too dangerous. Divide and conquer - Vader had the ambition and his son the power. Of the two, Palpatine knew that Skywalker was the most threat; Vader had been in his service for many years and despite his ambitions, he knew that he hadn't the power to stand against Palpatine alone and survive. It had long since been taken from him.