The only thing which would buy him immunity from Palpatine's wrath would be success. That alone might just enable The Heir to hide his true intent within the results... and in doing so advance his own objectives.
And if he failed and Palpatine found out... Then he could afford no weaknesses, because Palpatine would take him to pieces.
.
.
.
Mara slowed with a frown on her face as she approached Skywalker's apartments, realisation slowly percolating through her still-waking thoughts that there were only two Red Guard at the doorway, which meant that Skywalker probably wasn't there.
She wandered down the main hallway in the vast apartment and found only Reece in Skywalker's Day-Office, glancing up as she reached the door. Though they were both under the Emperor's covert command, neither theoretically knew about the other's true duties but Mara was pretty sure that Reece was too smart not to know the truth, which made his wary enmity and mock-polite distance all the more confusing.
"Good morning Commander. Can I help you?"
"Where's Skywalker?" Mara asked, eliciting a very icy reply.
"The Heir is in the Practice Halls at present." Reece corrected cuttingly.
Mara ignored the barb, "Doing what?"
Reece raised his eyebrows pointedly.
"You're not seriously telling me you let him go there with a lightsaber in his condition?"
"I was hardly about to take it from him, Commander." Reece replied sarcastically.
"Does Hallin know?"
"Yes. His medic has stated that if The Heir is - his words, not mine - 'fool enough to try practicing with a lightsaber' then Hallin will be awaiting a comm to go to the Practice Halls and pick up the pieces shortly." Reece replied dryly.
Mara was already turning away, heading out of the apartment. She'd reached the wide basalt stairwell before she slowed slightly, considering... there was enough time to make a quick detour and pick up something from her own apartments...
.
The two Red Guard stepped smartly aside as she opened the double-doors to the vast Practice Hall, the heat of the glass-walled room rolling out over her although it was still early. Skywalker was more or less in the centre of the huge space, the pure white of the fitted tank-vest and pants which he always practiced in so bright in the morning sun that he seemed to glow against the absolute black of the polished ebony floor.
Squinting against the low morning light, Mara set forward, Skywalker half-turning in easy acknowledgement, lightsaber in his right hand, his left arm still held immobile by the polymer casts and the metal bars which glinted disturbingly in the morning sun.
He seemed strangely at ease and off-guard in that moment, as he often did during saber practice, as if everything else was put away for the time necessary to completely dedicate himself to this passion. Whenever he was in the Palace he fell back on countless hours alone in the Practice Hall, as he had when he was first being taught by the Emperor. It was, Mara knew, both his method of remaining detached from Court and so sane in these cut-throat, paranoid surroundings, and a genuine compulsion bordering on obsession. But then that was forgivable - given the company he kept, chances were one day it would save his life.
He'd glanced up, his hair tousled, face breaking into a warm, unpretentious grin which Mara couldn't help but return. He looked so... relaxed. No wariness, no suspicion, no degrees of detachment. It was very...appealing.
"Practice?" she kicked herself for stating the glaringly obvious, but he didn't chide her for it, simply nodding.
"Trying." he admitted, swinging the saber casually in a one-handed infinity-loop to either side of his body with his good arm then ending it by twisting the blade up behind his arm as he lifted the arm out straight to his side, the tip of the live blade remaining parallel, stopping a fraction before it hit his arm and the back of his head, making Mara wince slightly though he seemed completely relaxed at the manoeuvre.
"You know, I distinctly remember speaking to Hallin and he said you shouldn't be practicing with a lightsaber yet."
"I thought you never listened to Hallin." Luke said easily.
"I didn't say that," Mara countered gamely, "I said I listened to him less than you."
"I'll give you that one." he allowed, smiling as he saluted with the blade, lifting it neatly before his face, head bowing slightly. He took two fast steps back, obviously clearing sufficient space to swing the lightsaber.
"You're very gracious." Mara deadpanned, though she couldn't help but allow a slight smile to twitch at the corners of her own lips as she stepped forward to maintain the space before them.
Undaunted, he took another two steps back - and Mara took another two steps forward. He glanced up, the deep scar on his face wrinkling as he furrowed his forehead, "Are we dancing now?"
Mara let the sarcasm slide, "I'm still waiting for an answer to my question."
"I thought I gave you one." he countered lightly.
"I mean the question about Hallin saying you're not ready fort his kind of high-stress exercise yet."
"So do I."
Mara frowned, "And when did you do that?"
"When I backed up so I wouldn't hit you during my practice." he said levelly.
"See, that's not an answer, that's just ignoring the question."
He set his head to one side, tone indulgent, "If you're splitting hairs, I'd like to state for the record that you didn't really ask me a question- it was more of a statement."
He stepped back again, his smile pulling at the heavy scar on his face and reaching those sky-blue eyes - always a rarity, though Mara had seen it a surprising amount in the last week. She was still trying to decide whether she was pleased or suspicious. Either way, she was charmed by this appealing new twist to Skywalker's character. Hallin had warned of mood swings and temperament changes following the coma; if this was the result, she could certainly live with it.
He stepped back one last time, "And you're still in my way."
Mara frowned, not yet defeated; if she couldn't make him stop, then she could at least try to limit how much he did-
"We should duel." she said, holding out her hand, the simple, utilitarian lightsaber which Palpatine had given her many years ago in her grip, little more than a brushed steel tube with button controls- she often suspected that her master resented giving her, a non-Jedi, a lightsaber.
Petite and fine-boned, at this close distance her slim frame brought her not much higher than Luke's shoulder, though she wasn't daunted by the thought of a duel. She didn't have his strength, but she had a trained, athletic body, was nimble and agile, and had been taught from an early age how to duel. Admittedly he'd effortlessly trounced her in their one short spar, but she'd been practicing since then.
Her offer actually made him laugh out loud, his Rim-System accent suddenly coming to the fore as he dropped the lightsaber to his side and deactivated the bright ruby blade,. "Yeah, because you're so gracious in defeat."
"Maybe I'd beat you." she teased, taken by this unguarded attitude.
He left just enough of a pause to let her know how unlikely he thought that was, that perfectly-modulated Coruscanti accent completely restored. "No."
"I don't know," Mara ribbed easily, "You have a broken arm, your shoulders don't work and your hip and ankle were dislocated- I think I have a pretty fair chance this time."
"No, you don't."
Mara raised her eyebrows, "Am I that bad...or are you that good?"
He shrugged, ignoring the compliment but confident in his abilities, "A little bit of both."