On this dais which Vader now approached, stood Palpatine's precious Sunburst Throne, the extinct Jedi Order's vaunted 'Seat of Prophesy,' taken from the Jedi Temple before its destruction. Set above its subjects as Vader's Master always believed he was, the centuries old throne refracted subtle light about the dais from the beaten, hammered surface of the precious metal sunburst which formed the backrest, the infamous Son of Suns prophesy engraved in fine, archaic script upon it, the only copy of the prophesy in existence. Had Vader had his way, the prophesy which had hung like a chain about his neck his whole life would have been destroyed along with the chair into which it was carved.
But he didn't; he never would have. So he came to a slow halt on the half-circle of Terassotti marble before the dais, its mirror-half set into the raised dais itself, completing the circle. Its inlaid design, a pale cream circle with a russet red center set with a complex filigree in muted blue-grey, a second russet and blue-grey motif inlaid at regular intervals around its outer edge, was painfully, offensively familiar to Vader from his youth. He often wondered if anyone else recognized it as the floor of the venerated Jedi Council Chamber; probably not--who was left alive to know?
And it would, he knew, give his Master a great deal of satisfaction to have desecrated it so--to know that his throne now rested on the floor that he would once never have been allowed to stand upon. And as Vader knelt on the half-circle set into the floor before the dais, eyes lowered and back bent, gazing at the floor which he had once stood upon as a Jedi, he wondered...
Did that too fill his Master with cold amusement?
He had always sworn that if he ever rose to Emperor he would have this floor ripped up and destroyed--broken down to dust. If he rose to Emperor.
But the floor remained, and he still bent on one knee each time he came here. And he knew now that his wish would never be fulfilled. It had outlasted a thousand generations of Jedi--it would outlast this one Sith.
It gave Vader some small modicum of pleasure to think that it would outlast his Master, too--even here.
"Lord Vader." Palpatine lounged upon his throne when everyone before him was made to stand. No one sat in Court--no one save himself. He loved his power, Vader knew. It gave him no greater pleasure, than to wield it.
"What is thy bidding, my Master?" he asked, eyes to that familiar floor.
"Rise, my friend, rise," the Emperor bid him magnanimously. "Everything is proceeding as planned."
Vader remained silent, knowing instantly the true subject of this conversation, but unwilling to play these pointless word games with his Master. Though he knew that Palpatine was right; the boy balanced at the brink...but something had held him back thus far. Some sense of duty or self-restraint which had always eluded Vader. Or perhaps it was simple stubbornness--in that he and his son were very much alike.
He saw himself reflected in his son a little more every day now. Saw the brittleness, the mercurial mood swings as Luke struggled to maintain control against endless provocations. Felt the boy's sense in the Force shift. The boy knew it too--and he fought it, struggling to maintain a connection to something which no longer existed. Could not exist here, so close to the Emperor.
Vader looked to his Master, who had remained silent. Did he expect some answer? A confirmation of his own appraisal? If so, it would be the first time.
But then, Vader had a unique perspective in this. A certain...personal connection.
"Yes, Master," he said at last. "Though something remains intact--some limit yet to breach."
Palpatine narrowed his eyes in consideration of this, leaning forward and nodding slowly. He remained silent, staring at Vader for a long time, no longer considering his words, Vader knew, but considering him.
Vader held his peace, not wishing to be drawn further, already regretting his words, feeling that he had in some way betrayed the boy.
Before the arrival of his son, he would have spoken at this point, out of his own discomfort beneath his Master's searching gaze. Now he felt strangely empowered, his son's close presence, his connection and abilities, giving Vader confidence where before he had held none--not before his Master.
And as much as Vader tried to hide this, Palpatine knew it.
He shifted, raising barrier after barrier, realizing that he was too late. He had already given too much away--in facing his Master, in speaking his thoughts. In knowing at all.
Palpatine sat back again, some decision made.
"You have done well of late, Lord Vader, and I wish to reward you." The Emperor's words were quick and decisive.
Vader's eyes narrowed beneath his mask. Reward? His Master did not reward. What was the wily old Sith doing?
"I am restructuring the fleet to better reflect the needs of my Empire. You will be given new responsibilities and powers, my friend, in acknowledgment of your exemplary service."
"Yes, Master," Vader said uneasily, hearing the wary tone in his own deep voice. Looking for the trap.
"My Empire and my fleet are growing ever larger, Lord Vader. I have decreed that the fleet is to be divided for efficiency into two separate commands. One will be named the Core Fleet, responsible for all aspects of maintaining stability in the Core Systems and the Colonies. The second will be named the Rim Fleet and will administer to all other territories and responsibilities, including expanding Imperial space and policing all insurrection and rebellion, wherever it arises. The Rim Territories require a strong hand and a dedicated, loyal commitment to Imperial policy. Your experience and diligence in such areas has earned you the right to command this fleet in my name, my friend. I can think of no one I would trust more."
Ah, there it was--the twist of the knife.
He was being sent away, Vader realized. Away from the Palace and away from his son. His Master needed time to bring the boy fully to heel--to guarantee his loyalty--and Vader's presence had clearly become an unwanted complication. The Rim territories were vast, and with no legitimate reason to bring his fleet into the Core Colonies, Vader would remain away for extended periods of time. Masterfully done...but then he had expected no less, from the man who brought a Republic to its knees.
Palpatine's thin lips twisted to a triumphant smile. "You are to go to the Meridian Sector immediately, my friend. Your fleet will be reassigned to join you in the coming days."
Vader's chin rose in shock. "Now?"
The Emperor paused to stare Vader down, and he held that hard glare for long seconds before he crumbled, the chains which held him too old and too ingrained to withstand.
"As you wish, Master."
Palpatine continued as if the interruption had never taken place. "There is word of a Rebel unit hiding in the Gion Asteroid belt. Hunt them down in my name as only you can, Lord Vader. Destroy them completely. This is the first mission for your new fleet, my friend, and you are to dedicate yourself to it completely. I know you will not fail me."
There was a finality to his last words which indicated dismissal, and Vader bowed low in response, backstepping before turning to leave.
The susurration of whispers as he strode down the vast hall set his teeth on edge. Blind, power-hungry fools; they saw only that the Emperor had rewarded the loyalty of his favored servant. Vader knew the truth; that this empty honor had taken his son from him...and with it, any chance of securing the boy's loyalty.
Strangely, in that moment of realization, the former meant far more to him than the latter.
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Eleven long weeks--stimulating and challenging and enervating--and dormant promise was finally shaping into workable potential. Inherent traits finally breaking through the pressure fractures. Palpatine rose, stalking forward around the table impeccably set for a dinner that was never eaten, reaching out to rest a hand on the boy's shoulder as he reached him, feeling him tense in wary reaction, the air in the cavernous chamber charged.