Genre: vignette
Rating: G
He regards
the quiet, trembling child with measuring eyes.
She is
indescribably dirty, despite the major's half-hearted effort to clean her up,
her hair red - it could appear - is a tousled mess and her face is streaked
with tears that ran dry days ago. Looking down her ragged jumpsuit he can see
that at some point she even has peed in her pants.
She
stands
shivering
in front of him, eyes
to the floor; there is no question that she's terrified beyond
words.
What should
he do with her; the surviving brat of a wiped off Jedi family? She has the gift,
he can sense that much even from here - yet again - so many have the gift. Is
there anything special in this one, anything left in that horror struck mind; that
isn't most likely broken already and rendered completely
useless?
How old is
she?
"Three
years old your majesty. Four maybe. It's hard to tell."
The Emperor
smiles briefly. For all his intelligence and training, it hadn't occurred to the
major that he could ask the child; she's old enough to know her own age. Or
maybe she can't remember anymore? Fear can do that to a man, how much more
easily then to a child?
With great
care, he reaches out with the Force to touch her mind. Her head pops up at the
contact, large eyes widen in surprise and she meets his gaze with newly awakened
hope, spontaneous faith.
And
Palpatine smiles. He doesn't have to wipe out hostile intent from his mind in
order for her not to sense it. It's all gone already. Gone by this sublime
feeling, this precious gift that a small child gives you so freely, this rare
savor; trust. How refreshing on a old man's weary, twisted
soul.
So she is
intact despite her fear; she isn't broken and certainly not wiped out by the
brute fate she and her kin have faced? He touches her mind again and she
responds immediately; delicate, unspoiled, with all the vividness a child's mind
can present.
He looks
into those bright, eager eyes; fingers at the edges of her mind, unexpected
possibilities suddenly coming to life before him... This could be something
different, she could very well be capable of what he's always dreamt of but also
suspected was a only mirage of his own ambition, a dream never likely to come
true.
"What's
your name, child?"
Fear
overtakes her again, but now she fights it, struggles to find her voice, in
order to answer his question.
Yeess.. four
years old, horrified, but still acknowledging what is required of her, and
willing to deliver... A pride, to obey ...what a wonderful, delicious
trait.
"Mara, your majesty." The last words said with
an uncertain look to the major, then again focusing on the Emperor before
her.
Wonderful
eyes, indeed. Ardent, full of stubborn courage, initiative even. This could
be?
And such an
unusual color, jade green. She could grow up to be a beauty of great measure. That
would also come in conveniently.
"Welcome to
my court, Mara Jade."
He reaches
out his hand, palm upwards and those jade eyes grow bigger again. She glances
around her, almost shamefully; looking for some escape, perhaps.
There is
none, however. There is only one way for her to go. In fact, Palpatine knows,
she has two - the way to perdition is always open - but that one is behind her,
the way of reluctance, and she is a child, still believing blindly in people and
goodness, still mistaking a friendly gesture as good intentions. This belief now
redeems her life.
Gathering
all her courage, she rises and steps to the Emperor, taking his hand. Tiny, wee
fingers touch bony, faded ones and her eyes widen again at the softness of that
wrinkled skin.
The Emperor
smiles indulgently and motions to his side.
"Sit down,
child. You will have a place at my right side. In time, you will be the
extension of my will."
She sits on
the floor for hours, staying with the Emperor in the shadow of his throne until
she finally falls asleep, head resting against its cold
marble.