But Skywalker's power was too great, eclipsing all other considerations. It would require his full attention to control his Dark Jedi for some time yet, to ensure that he was brought fully to heel. Now was a dangerous time; Skywalker was more than a Jedi, but not yet a Sith, not yet deferring completely to his new Master's will.
It would surely be better to break this final link; not risk emotional complications with one for whom this had always been a flaw.
And yet...it appealed to his twisted sense of possession...
The rule had been laid down centuries past, that there would be only two Sith--Master and apprentice. But Palpatine knew himself beyond such petty restrictions, made to guide those less capable than he. He could achieve more... Had achieved so much already. And now there were no restrictions to hamper him, no Jedi to obstruct his plans, no 'Son of Suns' to hinder him, all prophetic predictions laid to rest by his own hand.
He entered his Jedi's apartments, cold from their long empty spell as he had shaped his Jedi into his Sith. He smiled at that; not quite a Sith yet, but no longer a Jedi; not for some time. Though he liked the designation--ironic now. His final revenge on those who had thought to contain him. He must, after all, call his new apprentice something, and why not this--his Feral Jedi, tamed now. Bound and brought to heel.
He entered the dark room where his Jedi lay in the huge, high bed, the reflected flickering of the firelight casting writhing shadows over his still form. Pale, bloody, bruised skin against perfect white, so still that the white linen seemed draped about him like a shroud, the opulent surroundings of carved wood and rich, dark, heavy fabrics not quite able to displace the disquieting atmosphere, as cold and silent and still as the tomb.
The Emperor's thin lips pulled back; yes, Lord Vader could be ordered to return soon. He had a very important task to provide for his Master, one only he could fulfill. He would enable Palpatine's Feral Jedi to cut this final tie himself, a conclusive test of absolute loyalty, of Palpatine's unconditional control. Proof of his Jedi's mastery over his greatest weakness.
A trial, as their kind had always tested themselves--their abilities, their allegiance, their convictions.
A duel. To the death? Perhaps. If only in intent...
He so wanted to loose this wild thing, this wolf. Wanted to see if he had tamed it enough that it would come to heel when he called.
Wanted to unleash it just to see it fight.
He would need to begin training the boy in the ways of the Sith immediately; equip him with the skills to match his power. Because power alone was not enough; that was Vader's way, to drive forward with incredible brute strength, to get the job done effectively, but with neither finesse nor élan. The blunt instrument. Incredibly powerful and infinitely more experienced than his son. A deadly combination, proving effective time and again.
Skywalker would need a great deal to counter it. But Palpatine had studied him from afar, as soon as he had learned the name of the pilot who had destroyed his Death Star with that single, impossible shot. Studied him without giving the name over to his father. First as a new enemy, then more recently--long before Vader had tried to hide his own gaping weaknesses and subtle treacheries behind his suggestion to turn the child--as a possible apprentice.
So he had observed Skywalker's progress through the ranks of the Rebellion long before he noted the boy's latent Force talents emerging; noted his fast mind, steady under fire, his adaptability when cornered, his focus, always keeping his eye on the end goal.
Attributes which could easily be applied to the art of the duel.
A great duelist fought like a chess master, always keeping his eye on the larger picture, on the move five steps ahead from where he was now, driving his opponent from check to check, maintaining the impetus, always pro-active, compelling his opponent to be re-active, forcing a mistake. Speed in mind and body, refinement of technique. The fine blade.
Vader had commented that their duel on Bespin had revealed the boy to be far more capable than he had expected. Knowing now that Yoda had trained him, Palpatine could well understand why; the wily old Jedi Master had always excelled at training padawans in lightsaber technique. But some things could not be taught. The boy must have some innate skills, in order to have faced down and out-maneuvered a trained Jedi-turned-Sith of Vader's ability, turning what should have been a very short and decisive victory into a near-fiasco. Probably the same focus and composure, the same mental speed and agility which made him an exemplary fighter-pilot.
Since the boy obviously had natural ability and Master Yoda had already unwittingly aided Palpatine immensely in completing his basic training, it was left only to hone that skill. To teach the boy to find his strengths and utilize them, to read another's weaknesses and exploit them. To tutor and train and instill into him the subtleties and uncompromising precision of technique which would build on his basic nature to make him exceptional.
Lord Vader had few flaws in the duel, and he disguised them well, but Palpatine was quietly confident. He did not wish to lose Vader--the idea of owning both Vader and Skywalker still held appeal--but if he must sacrifice one to control the other, then it was Vader he would surrender. His new Empire could be built with Skywalker in a way that it never could with Vader. He would be harder to control than his father, but the gains would outweigh the risks. Yes--brute force and long experience against newly-honed speed and technique. He had time enough to prepare the boy, to lay in place the skills necessary to counter Vader. To hone his fine blade. After that, well then, the boy was on his own.
And in the chess game of absolute dominion, one should be willing to surrender even major pieces in pursuit of one's final goal. His two highest-value players; would he be forced to relinquish one in order to possess the other? Already he smiled in anticipation...
If he were to sacrifice Lord Vader to secure his son's loyalty, then he should at least be entertained by the spectacle. If Skywalker couldn't defeat Vader, Palpatine had lost nothing; he still had Lord Vader...and this moment, this memory of his Jedi's magnificent, explosive, incomparable fall still fresh enough to instigate a burning burst of energized adrenaline.
And even in death, Skywalker could still serve a purpose...
As he had done when his Jedi had first arrived here, Palpatine reached out to rest his hand on the boy's forehead, to feel again that locus of power, intoxicating, potent, addictive.
And there was something else there now, disconnected and distinct, like oil on water.
Darkness imbued his Jedi's contact with the Force. A razor-sharp focus whose intensity magnified and expanded it, bringing a gratified smile to Palpatine's thin lips...which vanished abruptly as another thought occurred, coldly compelling.
He should kill him; kill him now, while he slept.
He was too powerful, too great a risk. He remembered again Skywalker's biting accusations in the cell--that it was he who prowled through Palpatine's darkest nightmare visions, he who had been the threat hanging over the Sith's head for so long, he who was Palpatine's demon in the darkness, the wolf who hunted in the shadows...and he knew it.
He should kill him. Destroy that nightmare vision once and for all.
His thoughts turned momentarily back to his own Master, Plagueis, killed in his sleep by an apprentice too powerful to contain. Palpatine rubbed a sharp nail over his thin lips as the memory turned into a cruel smile. His Master had been careless, to trust his apprentice so readily. To allow him so much free will. Overconfidence had made him blind to the possibility of betrayal. Palpatine would never make that mistake. His fallen Jedi would be closely watched, tightly controlled, any defiance ruthlessly dealt with.