Vader strode forward across the landing platform without pause, completely at ease surrounded by this display of Imperial might, a group of somber-faced officers trailing behind him.
Halfway across the platform he paused as rows of scarlet-clad Royal Guard--the Emperor's own regiment--marched out to break the of the rows of white stormtroopers with a double line of blood red.
"The Emperor," Leia murmured, drawing back slightly as Han craned his neck to see.
Darth Vader walked several paces forward from the Imperial Commanders and dropped to one knee, head low, disappearing below rows of attention-still troopers.
Anticipation made Han's heart beat faster; he was about to see the Emperor...the Emperor! Nobody saw Emperor Palpatine, not in the flesh. Admittedly he probably wasn't going to live to tell anyone, and even if he did who would believe him, but still...
An expectant stillness fell about the scene, its imposing gravity lost on no one, even Solo.
The man who walked slowly out from the high double doors of the south tower, a heavy, hooded cloak hiding his form, seemed at once small and frail, yet absolutely in command; aware of his status and expecting recognition of such.
A small entourage followed at a respectful distance, four elderly men in dark, rich vermillion robes, a striking, porcelain-skinned red-haired woman in a black one-piece--clearly military from the way she held herself--and two Royal Guards.
Oddly, above the wind and despite the distance, Han thought he could hear the 'click - click' of the gnarled black cane the Emperor used to walk with as he stepped forward. More so, he felt, for the first time in many years, reduced to unsettled silence by the hooded man's disquieting presence...
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Walking across the windswept platform, Emperor Palpatine forced himself to slow his pace, but when he finally reached Lord Vader he was unable to keep the fervent anticipation from his voice. "Rise--rise, my friend. Your mission was successful."
It was not a question.
"Yes, my Master."
Palpatine could sense some sliver of reluctance, a carefully concealed unease, and it brought a slow, subtle smile to his thin, cracked lips. Not that Vader felt this, but that he felt it yet did nothing about it. Control on any level was rewarding...control of someone of Vader's abilities was endlessly gratifying.
"Good. Very good. You've done well," Palpatine rewarded easily, eyes turning to the transport.
An open medical repulsor-sled was being guided down the ramp, its occupant unconscious, hooked up to the inbuilt specialist IV system which was capable of keeping him that way.
Palpatine waited, eyes locked on the sled. As it approached he sensed something, some blast of intense concern, and glanced momentarily at the spot several rows back into the stormtroopers.
"His companions," Vader said simply, clearly having sensed the same.
Palpatine frowned; there was something--some distant familiarity...
"Leia Organa," he said, remembering the woman from her infrequent attendance to Court; her father was always so protective.
As well he should be, traitor that she was. She held his attention for only a moment though, his ochre eyes turning back greedily to the sled. He'd once thought to bring her before him in chains, to answer for her crimes. Now she was almost beneath his notice, useful for one thing only. But very useful in that, he hoped. Yes, he had plans for his little Rebel Princess.
He smiled wickedly, eyes remaining locked on the greater prize. He had waited a long time for this moment once he realized Skywalker's existence. Prepared for it, anticipated and carefully schemed, plans within plans, waiting to be set in motion. It had been a long time coming, but then so had most momentous things in his life. As with all of them, he was a patient man. And as with all of them, he knew that this too would come, despite the best efforts of the Jedi.
He took three fast steps forward as the sled neared, in that moment completely forgetting his cane. Halting it, he leaned over the unconscious man who had been the bane of his life for so long, omen of the Jedi's precious prophesy hanging like chains about his neck. The only real threat to his reign.
He stared for long, still seconds, head to one side, yellow eyes taking in the boy's features as his closed eyelids flickered, perhaps at some distant realization.
"He's barely grown, little more than a padawan." Palpatine's tone was mocking, scornful in its amusement as he glanced up to Vader. "How did he elude you for so long?"
He reached out, ashen skin pale against the boy's dark bruises, almost but not quite touching the boy's temple; noting him flinch more violently away. "But what a power..." Palpatine turned sulphurous, taunting eyes to Vader, sharp voice reduced to a private, goading whisper. "Everything you once were."
Vader remained silent; impassive. He likely knew his Master would seek to drive a wedge between himself and his son as soon as possible. And he knew why.
Palpatine turned away, amused by Vader's willful silence, knowing that his servant would try to use the boy against him--probably already had. But Vader had always been too impatient, too impetuous, far too abrupt to achieve anything in as delicate a situation as this. Except to serve Palpatine's ends of course, as he always did, whether he intended to or not.
As his son would. He studied the boy again, more closely now...and paused, grating voice lowered in displeasure. "You have damaged my Jedi, Lord Vader."
Vader's chin lifted slightly. "He was...difficult to contain."
"He is a Jedi." Palpatine's tone was dismissive.
"He is more than that," Vader maintained, careful to keep any challenge from his voice. Any pride.
Palpatine held his eye for several long seconds then turned away, disgusted. "Take him to his quarters," he said at last, glancing to his companions. "And take them to the detention level--if you're capable of that."
He turned and walked away, not bothering to acknowledge Vader's deep bow.
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Palpatine walked impatiently into the room where his new Jedi had been ensconced, the fiery, red-haired Mara Jade two steps behind him, her displeasure at being twisted up in her master's new 'project' blaring out through the Force. Which was of course exactly why he had brought her. Her job was to do his bidding; what she wanted or preferred was immaterial. It always had been.
He had intended not to return to it today, instead to leave it in uneasy solitude whilst he enjoyed the satisfaction of ownership at last--in body if not yet in spirit. But the pull to come here had been just too great, so he had made his way down here on the pretext of checking the unprepared-for medical arrangements, knowing that in truth he had wanted nothing more than to be here, watching it. Like a child with a new toy that he was not yet allowed to touch.
The comparison brought a smile to pale, thin lips at the realization. He had not felt this way in a long time.
His Jedi's heavily-fortified quarters were spread over several rooms within an immense, elegantly proportioned apartment. Tall, ornately-carved wooden panels concealed massively-reinforced blast doors and the dark, macassar-polished walls hid trussed, perennium-strung plasteel slab, with brace-strung military-grade filament set within the solid, refraction-free bulk of explosion-rated windows. A prison to hold a Jedi.
Beautifully dressed and luxuriously appointed, but a prison nonetheless. Doubtless his Jedi would see it as such, too. But there was a game being played here, subliminal messages being communicated; that open defiance was unnecessary in such a context; every effort was being made to make this a civilized encounter.