But he didn't care to look. Didn't care.
It would be his undoing, his lack of compassion. That which had made him willing to pay any price to gain power would one day bring him low. His greed and his self-serving conceit and his blind arrogance.
The tall gilded partition slid smoothly aside as Luke entered the empty stillness of the ante-room, closing soundlessly behind him, the lights in the chamber raising to a subtle radiance which made the sliding panels glow luminous in the low light, their precious-metal surface intricately etched and enamelled with an interlocking rendition of the Core Systems.
The incredible, priceless panels ran floor to ceiling to either side of the entire length of the main Throne Room, each depicting separate sectors of Imperial Space- 'lest the Emperor forget what he owned, Luke supposed dryly.
Aware that he would have a long wait, divided and hidden from Court now, Luke studied the enamelled panel as he had done so many times before in the extravagant opulence of the high, gilded-ceiling chamber, his back to the empty throne within, the only item in the long ante-room. Lost in his thoughts, Luke studied the elaborate artistry, appreciating again the talent and expertise of the craftsmen who had realized it.
Trying not to think about how in the galaxy a kid from Tatooine had come to be stood here, on Coruscant, in the Imperial Palace, in the private chamber of the ruler of the Empire...
Wondering which panel depicted his homeworld of Tatooine as some tiny, insignificant little dustball circling fierce, binary suns. It had never occurred to him to look before.
Now he was driven by an intense pang of desire to track it down; for what he didn't know; it was only a mark on a map, and an inaccurate, inventive rendition at that- but the longing to find it in that moment was all-consuming. To just... touch that point on the elaborate star charts... To touch home- to touch innocence; integrity... or as close as he would ever come again.
But regret bought nothing here and guilt was simply a weakness to be exploited in his Master's eyes- he'd learned that long ago. He resolutely turned his back on the map and stared without seeing at the throne, waiting for his Master, aware of the buzzing pressure in the back of his mind which signalled Palpatine's close presence.
The momentary freedom afforded by the massed anonymity of the Capital beyond was lost to him now, the restless, rueful mind-games he allowed himself when hidden by it's densely-concentrated populace forbidden. He could afford no misgivings before Palpatine, no fractures in his shields.
He had an agenda, and while he didn't expect to forward it today beneath his Master's desire to re-establish authority over his wayward advocate, then he knew better than to lower his defences. As long as he kept his head and was suitably contrite - and had the lure of a greater incentive to distract and cloud the issue - then some degree of success was attainable.
Today was simply laying the groundwork... and paying the price. It was the instigation of a reworking of boundaries, both mental and physical - and there was always a price to be paid for that, he knew. It was, as ever, simply a question of how much.
He took a deep, calm breath and went again through the mental discipline of putting all the thoughts and doubts he held carefully away behind mental shields. There was to be no weakness here - not before for his Master's harsh scrutiny.
And so he remained, stood to loose attention in the opulent, airless room, his feet set apart, his hands clasped behind his back, ignoring the grating, nagging pain this instilled deep in his left shoulder even months after his recovery. The overshadowing presence of his Master cloyed his mind from this close, though he sensed nothing specific in it, neither anger nor tolerance, all intent hidden walls within walls; a mirror of his own mind when in the Emperor's presence- they both played these games too well.
Still he waited, aware that this too was part of his Master's intent; to set him on edge and give time for his thoughts to wander.
Minutes turned into hours and he waited, head down, eyes closed...
.
He was roused from his reverie by the smooth slide of the massive etched-metal panels, the mechanism almost silent. He didn't turn as his Master entered, the whisper of heavy robes over marble floors sending a momentary twist of foreboding up his spine at the still-intense memories of too many days and nights caged in the cells far below the Palace, when the entrance of his Master to the cell marked the beginning of yet another cycle of torment and pain.
Palpatine walked the length of the long room in silence, aware of the brief instant of panic which his feral Jedi quickly quashed, a sure sign that he was guilty of something, even if Palpatine didn't know what yet. It was rare indeed that the boy allowed even a sliver of emotion to show through his impenetrable shields aside from that steadfast resolve not to be intimidated.
He had called his Jedi here to answer for his curious actions against the Bothans... but perhaps there were deeper issues to be exposed.
The Emperor took the final two steps onto the low, raised dais and settled on his throne before looking to his Jedi as the boy knelt quietly before his Master, eyes down.
They remained like this for long seconds, Palpatine waiting for the boy to crack and ask why he was here- but he had regained control of his emotions and was clearly willing to wait his Master out in silence, one knee to the ground, his arm resting on the other, head down.
Palpatine settled again, letting out a loud, theatrical sigh. "Why are you here?" he said at last, tone long-suffering and exasperated.
"Because you summoned me, Master." The boy replied smoothly, nothing revealed.
"And why would I need to do that?" Palpatine prompted, and watched his Jedi pause just slightly, weighing up the consequences of continuing to prevaricate for no other reason than his own stubbornness.
"I'm sure you have your reasons." Skywalker said at last, eyes still to the floor.
Luke kept his head down, chiding himself for continuing to defy simply because he resented the condescending, self-righteous tone in his Master's voice. He'd come to validate his actions against the Bothans and to gain permission to go after the Rebellion. He wouldn't get that by digging his heels in - he'd be lucky to get it at all.
Ordering himself to back down, he stood, lifting his eyes to the Emperor, arranging a penitent expression on his face.
Palpatine narrowed his eyes; the boy would have a reason for everything that he had done, he knew that; he wasn't in the habit of simply lashing out to ease his frustration as his father was wont to do. If he pursued an action this relentlessly then there was some logic to it even though such facts had been pointedly left off the notably few official reports which had been sent from the Peerless in the last few months.
Again Palpatine resettled his weight, lounging comfortably in the chair, subtle messages even in this, before finally launching the inevitable game, the tone of hiss gravelly voice hovering somewhere between annoyance and exasperation; "What are you doing?"
It was tempting to claim he was simply standing before his Master, but Luke bit down the sarcasm and made a direct reply.
"What my father seems incapable of." Luke said simply, "Removing those who present a threat to your Empire."
"Really? Yet my Empire seems to have stumbled along with only your father's service for the last two decades." Palpatine's reedy voice was hard and dry, making Luke aware of just how fine-a line he was walking right now. He needed to diffuse this, and quickly.
"Command me, and I'll stop." He said, knowing Palpatine would call his bluff which was, at this point, irrelevant. He was already prepared to concede; it had served it purpose, its only further value to forfeit as a appeasement.