Conditional Love
By Ben Rudy-Froese
Lord Palpatine slowly rolled over in bed. His wrinkled and warped face almost looked human next to the bald, scarred, and pale facade of Mary. With a wheezy groan Mary slowly came back to consciousness and with a smile that resembled a grimace greeted Palpatine.
Palpatine hated this moment. Seeing Mary brought back all the memories. The promising young Anakin dueling Obi Wan. Despite medical efforts he perishes. The hope of an Empire ruled by two great Sith Lords was dashed. Anakin was not just a talented Jedi, he was a symbol that good people can be changed. He was the evidence that the Jedi order should no longer exist. He was supposed to rule with an iron fist. He needed to dispel any hope of a Jedi rebellion after the rebellion. He was supposed to show that The Force is a tool for the Sith, and not for pointless bureaucratic missions. But Anakin was gone. Dead. With his death so too Palpatine’s hope was gone. It was the same every morning. Mary’s face elicited anger, regret and hatred without fail.
Palpatine smiled as he shook his mind out of the past. Hope was not all gone; Palpatine had made his own hope. He eagerly leapt from the bed and looked out of the Death Star into the cold blackness. He loved blackness, it reminded him of Anakin, it reminded him of the Sith, but most importantly it brought him hope.
“Oh Palpy? Won’t you come and help me into my armour?” came Mary’s weezing voice.
“Of course my dear.”
And now came the best part of Lord Palpatine’s morning. The Sith armour that turned Mary into Lord Vader. The Sith armour that turned hatred into love. Palpatine stared at the cold black figure before him in admiration.
Chuuu “Well. How do I look?” Chooo.
“Perfect as always Lard Vader.”
Palpatine hated this moment. Seeing Mary brought back all the memories. The promising young Anakin dueling Obi Wan. Despite medical efforts he perishes. The hope of an Empire ruled by two great Sith Lords was dashed. Anakin was not just a talented Jedi, he was a symbol that good people can be changed. He was the evidence that the Jedi order should no longer exist. He was supposed to rule with an iron fist. He needed to dispel any hope of a Jedi rebellion after the rebellion. He was supposed to show that The Force is a tool for the Sith, and not for pointless bureaucratic missions. But Anakin was gone. Dead. With his death so too Palpatine’s hope was gone. It was the same every morning. Mary’s face elicited anger, regret and hatred without fail.
Palpatine smiled as he shook his mind out of the past. Hope was not all gone; Palpatine had made his own hope. He eagerly leapt from the bed and looked out of the Death Star into the cold blackness. He loved blackness, it reminded him of Anakin, it reminded him of the Sith, but most importantly it brought him hope.
“Oh Palpy? Won’t you come and help me into my armour?” came Mary’s weezing voice.
“Of course my dear.”
And now came the best part of Lord Palpatine’s morning. The Sith armour that turned Mary into Lord Vader. The Sith armour that turned hatred into love. Palpatine stared at the cold black figure before him in admiration.
Chuuu “Well. How do I look?” Chooo.
“Perfect as always Lard Vader.”