Star Wars belongs to Lucasfilm Ltd., itself property of The Walt Disney Company. I make no lucrative nor commercial use of my writings in relationship with the Star Wars license.

This thing, born from a period of stress, rested a long time on my hard-drive before I found the guts to publish it - maybe it should have stayed there... many thanks to Isa'ralia Faradien for proofreading it for me. Upon noticing how many fics there were about Vader's last thoughts in ROTJ's grand finale, I tried to imagine Sidious's. A real challenge, especially considering I've hardly read any book and used only the films, and the end result ended up quite disturbing. Hard T-rating, I think, and warnings for torture and sadistic thoughts - this is Palpatine in all his darkness...

Still, I hope you enjoy your read. All comments are very welcome.

"You've failed, Your Highness. I am a Jedi, like my father before me."

You look at me with triumph in your eyes, defiant, as though with these mere words you had put yourself beyond my reach; as though you could ever escape me in any way.

Oh, how mistaken you are.

Cold fury rushes through my veins, slowly rising. There was a time, once, when I was prone to outbursts and lashed out without thinking. Not so much now. Years have polished this tendency into a more refined form of control. I let my feelings reach their full potency, restraining them and focusing them as I revel in the power their sweet whispers promise me.

So be it, Jedi. Let it be done your way. I remain the master in this game. If I cannot claim your soul, I shall take your life. If you will not be turned, you will be destroyed.

I let one single streak of light surge towards you, tentatively, like an experiment. The destructive energy throws you against a canister and you tumble, your features contorted in a grimace. As I feel your presence in the Force flare with pain and horrified surprise, I cannot help but marvel at your sensitivity. You are so strong with the Force, and yet so easily vanquished, so weakened to my power by that very ability...

Your desperate efforts to recover draw an endeared smile on my lips. You know as well as I do that anything you can try will be in vain. I feel your emotions as clearly as if they were mine: you berate yourself for underestimating me, you try to stifle your terror and muster the strength to keep fighting, useless as it may be... Young fool. Only now, at the end, do you understand.

Another burst of lightning leaves my fingertips. You jump and nearly lose your grasp on the only thing that prevents you from falling in the abyss. How I enjoy the reflexive surge of fear overcoming you, the way you struggle to maintain your frail balance! But rest assured I have no intention of letting you go down that way. There will be no such easy path for you...

Next to us, Lord Vader slowly rises from his defeat at your hand and comes at my side, right behind me. I know you sense him. Even in your distress, you feel his gaze on your prostrate form. You still hope, in your delusions, that he will come to your aid... You do not yet realise how wrong you are.

Your feeble skills are no match for the power of the dark side, and you are only beginning to understand to what extent. That power could have been yours, had you only embraced it... Your loss. I feel no regret for your rejection, only anticipation as I relish the thought that I have you at last. You are in my hands, mine to do as I please, Rebel and last of the Jedi... Oh, and what I have planned to do to punish you. You have paid the price for your lack of vision.

Again I strike, again you squirm in torment, unable to defend yourself. This time, I do not stop the onslaught. White-hot hands of pain run across your body, stroking your skin and reaching for your every weakness. Your back arches and you collapse on the ground. It is only brushing you for now, its caresses far from the exquisite anguish I can summon, yet you writhe and scream in unbearable agony. You thrash about against the force enfolding you like a shroud, struggle uselessly to free yourself from your bonds of fire.

But all your efforts are foiled by the violence I thrust upon you. Your fate cannot be avoided. You are my prisoner, entirely at my mercy.

I am fascinated by the sight you offer me, so helpless, so vulnerable. I wonder how desperate Kenobi must have been, to send you against us so young and poorly trained. It seems Lord Vader was right, when we discussed you about a year ago. For all your natural power in the Force, for all the blows you dealt the Empire, you are nothing but a boy. At the moment you truly do look like a child, your hand weakly reaching out to your father, begging and imploring him to save you.

But he will not. Only your stubbornness prevents you from seeing it. He stands draped in darkness, coldly watching you suffer at my hands, waiting to see your light be smothered.

He is mine. Just as you are.

Finally, I contain my assault and behold your prone figure at my feet. Smoke is rising from your clothes, and under them I know you too are burning. Your face is set in an excruciated mask, your breathing hard and ragged, and you are holding your arms together in a last attempt at protection. The fragile shields you had erected around your minds have fallen. I feel your growing resignation, your hopes and dreams shattering one by one as you brace yourself for the inevitable. Your brokenness is beautiful, and I feast upon it.

You already know what is to come, little Jedi, but I cannot help but confirm it to you.

Now, young Skywalker, you will die.

For the last time, I raise my hands. Your tortured howls resound in the room as I unleash at last the whole vehemence of my might. Blue screeching bolts pour inside you relentlessly; they penetrate every single one of your cells, worm themselves in the deepest of your being. They scorch your flesh, sear your bones, boil your blood, and you are unable to suppress the spasms racking your body. In truth, you are no longer in control of any of your movements. Even that I have torn from you, your muscles bound to my command by the threads of light I wield. Tears are streaming down your cheeks, sweat is drenching your hair. You are trembling uncontrollably, instinctively curling up on yourself, desperately seeking a relief you sorely need.

I deny it to you with delight. I cannot tear my eyes from you in the intensity of your last moments, as the lethal power flows from my body inside yours, overcoming you, subduing you. How exquisite is your flailing presence in the Force, convulsing like a dying star... Your emotions are churning, your thoughts broken and erratic, reduced to the most primitive of compulsions. Only by my will are you still awake: all laws of nature would have long granted you the blessing of unconsciousness.

But I will not release you, nor bestow upon you the clemency of a clean last blow. There is too much pleasure in drinking from your cup of suffering. I want to see how long you will still last, whether your heart will give out under sheer pain or be stopped by the shocks I inflict on it. I want you to feel the thread of your life fray, to taste the stench of death slowly sweeping over you. I will steal your final thoughts as I surrender you to the Force, I will conquer your quivering body and press stillness upon it, I will wring your last breath from your lips, when obscurity engulfs your bright presence forever...

My feet are suddenly lifted from the ground. I lose control, and the lightning splatters and crackles around, bereft of a target. For a short moment, I am taken aback, then I let out a roar as I understand.

I was so captivated by my prey's last struggles that I didn't sense my apprentice's growing conflict. Love has always been his weakness; love, and family.

Enraged, I reach out with my powers, determined to destroy the weakened Jedi. I feel Vader's protectiveness towards his son, and I swear the boy will not get out of here alive, if only to punish his traitorous father. But the renegade Sith stands between him and me, and I quickly change my aim.

The lightning sparks and shrieks against the cyborg's armour. He stumbles under my weight as I viciously fight his grasp, wires in his suit are short-circuiting. I know he will not survive if he does not let me down this moment, and it brings me some satisfaction. For some endless seconds, it seems that I will win. Vader's presence grows fainter, he is having more and more difficulty holding me. But in a last outburst of strength, he manages to throw me over the barrier and in the shaft below, and I know everything is over.

All-powerful wrath seizes me at that thought. I lash out a last time against my old apprentice, and can only see him collapse as I whirl down and down the chasm. I no longer have any notion of high and low, no coherent thought going through my mind. All that remains is destructive hatred, and I swear, I scream that they will pay, that I will haunt them and curse them until they crumble in ashes.

I smell burnt flesh and see blue light swirl around me. Some part of me recalls another occurrence of the same, back when ultimate victory was nearly at my feet. I am too angered to experience any pain. My soul is consumed by a fury too great for it, and I cannot see, I cannot hear, I cannot feel.

Then there is a great burst of light, followed by nothingness.