Before - Legends Before the Saga Garden of Deceit--Tales from the Combined Palpatine Universes of LLL and Darth Ishtar

Introductions by the Collaborators: Once upon a time, there were two fanfic authors. One wrote Palpatine in everything but marriage and the other wrote Palpatine in nothing but marriage. Both had the conviction that he had to wind up with a redhead. This is the story of what mad plots they hatched when putting their universes in conversation with each other.

Note #1: For those looking for the last two completed Palpatine works by Darth Ishtar, they are being reposted with permission of the family in this thread. They will start here.

Note #2: There is artwork associated with this universe on the Garden of Deceit Substack, but it is somehow not letting us post pictures.

Note #3: Here is a song associated with DarthIshtar's last stories.


Associated Stories by LLL (Sereine Lumisol universe) (Alternate Universe)
Masters of the Game: Palpatine's path to his political position, helped by a clever mistress.
What Lies Beneath: Palpatine makes his name in the Senate
Murder by Murder: How Palpatine prepared to take down Valorum.
Midnight in the Garden: The redemption of Chancellor Palpatine

Associated Stories by DarthIshtar (Amne Selrieen Palpatine universe) (Canon timeline)
Wife of Deceit (repost): Book 1 of the tragic love story of Lady Palpatine
Talking Points: The Supreme Chancellor and his First Lady discuss her choice of candidate.

Index of Stories:
Confession and Regret (LLL)

Stories by the late DarthIshtar, posted by LLL:
Murder by Murder Chapter 19 Missing Scene: On a schmoozing, business-deal-wooing, fact-finding trip to Alderaan, Senator Sheev Palpatine encounters a girl who will one day be important in his life.

 

Note from @LLL: As I revised Midnight in the Garden twenty years later, things came up. Something hit me in the birth scene that I have no idea why I didn't think of twenty years ago, so that has been revised. I ran into DarthIshtar again and we discovered we were writing the very same Palpatine on the very same timeline, with only one difference: Whether Anakin Skywalker loved him or not.

So, what you will be reading here is the continuation of the Midnight timeline. In the timeline of the films, within which the Wife of Deceit series takes place, Anakin does not love Palpatine, and the original and sequel trilogies and Wife of Deceit is what you get.

Then we have the AU laid out in Midnight in the Garden: Anakin DOES love Palpatine, and this is what happens instead.

Then we thought: Why ... in THAT case, what happens to Amne, the last First Lady of the Old Republic? So, in this thread, we present odds and ends of the Midnight timeline that didn’t quite fit in Midnight, along with some Amne vignettes by Ish that didn’t quite fit in Wife. The break in the timeline occurs when Palpatine tells Anakin he's the Sith lord. (Actually, there's evidence of it earlier than that, but that's the big departure from canon timeline.)

*****

CONFESSION AND REGRET
By LLL

Summary: Palpatine takes pity on Sereine and finally explains why he left her.

One fateful night after one of Anakin, Palpatine, and Sereine’s long talks …


"'Trust.' I've heard about enough of that word from you, Sereine. After all, you are the faithless one here," said Palpatine.

Sereine spun in the doorway and headed back into the room. After all her lectures about never using a sharp tone with Palpatine, her own voice could have cut glass.

"That is enough!" she shouted. "I have heard the last of that from you!"

Anakin interrupted her. "Sereine."

One of Palpatine's smaller pieces of statuary stood on a table near her; Anakin was unprepared for the small violence that burst from her as she picked it up and threw it across the desk, uncomfortably close to Palpatine's head. The Force pushed it to the side, where it landed harmlessly at his feet.

She stalked to Palpatine's desk and loomed over him. Anakin rushed up behind her and pinned her arms and dragged her backwards. "Sereine!" he murmured into her ear. "You told me never to let you do this. You have to stop!"

She struggled. "Let me go, Anakin!"

Anakin held her tighter. "Stop it. You have to stop!"

Palpatine stood, one arm across his black velvet robes. "You may let her go."

Anakin held her, his eyes on Palpatine's.

The master looked very calm and in control of himself. "I won't harm her, Anakin. I give you my word. You may let her go." He punctuated this last with a simple touch from the heart through the eyes; a gesture that used to give Anakin all the comfort in the world.

Sereine struggled to free her arms.

Anakin gauged the look in Palpatine's eyes and weighed his sense in the Force. He relaxed his grip on her arms, and Sereine pulled herself free.

She stalked back to the desk. "You! You were the one who brought up marriage, not me! You were the one who kept after me for it, negotiated with me on and on. I don't even believe you wanted to marry me. You just didn't want me to marry Finis!"

"You knew how I felt about that, 'Reine. I told you many years ago. And you, you faithless liar—you know what you told me about it. And yet, here we are." He opened his palms in an ironic shrug.

She put both palms on the desk and leaned over it. "You know—" she grated, a tremor in her voice— "you know that when you were present in my life, he was not. You know that!"

Palpatine opened his mouth in a rueful gesture without words, a silent gasp Anakin had seen him make from time to time, lowered his gaze to the floor in a stagy manner, then looked up at Sereine from under his brows.

"And how do I know that? Of all people, you alone can lie to me. How do I know if you were ever faithful to me, or when you were?"

"Oh, stop it!" she shouted. "I told you exactly how it was at all times."

"Until you didn't," Palpatine interjected.

"What did you want me to do?" Her long hair trembled, shock waves running from roots to tips with the motion of her body. "In eight years, you would never, ever tell me you loved me. You never let me say that to you. We spent eight years, negotiating truth, negotiating trust—I betrayed you, I know that, but it was never with him! And you know that, I know you do!"

Anakin could only see Palpatine's face. Palpatine drew his neck back as if in recoil, a sort of pride in his eyes and a grim set to his mouth.

Sereine said, "If you truly didn't trust me over him, you would never have accepted my apology over the Doriana affair, or ever wanted me back again, and I know you did. The proof is right there on your desk!"

Anakin swept the desk with his eyes, but he didn't notice anything special there. Palpatine's work flimsies, a datapad ... a sparkly desk weight.

"You married Amne Selrieen. Why are you calling me faithless and a liar over this? Why are you doing this to me? Why can't you let this go?" A plaintive note crept into Sereine's voice.

Lady Palpatine. Anakin knew her slightly, knew the Chancellor had married her some ten years ago. He even saw her from time to time. Younger than Sereine, shorter, slighter, prettier, but with the same long red hair; he didn't know Amne well enough to be more than slightly uncomfortable in his possession of these facts about Palpatine's past with Sereine.

Knowing Valorum was worse; he knew Valorum suffered over it. Anakin felt that every day.

Palpatine's eyes traveled to where Anakin stood in the middle of the room. Anakin felt a subtle push in the Force; Palpatine wished him to leave.

Anakin shook his head.

Palpatine raised his chin and met his eyes. "I give you my word I will not harm her, Anakin. You may leave us."

"Sereine?"

Sereine turned to look at him. She looked tired and old. Anakin saw naked hurt in her eyes. She put her hand over her stomach. "I want to have this out with him, Anakin. If he wants privacy, so be it." Then she cut her eyes across at Palpatine. "If he wants to run me through, so be it." She crossed her arms over her chest. "How much worse could it be?"

Palpatine looked down at her, his brows drawn together in a severe expression. His voice filled the room in a sonorous tone. "I married her after  you married him." To Anakin: "Anakin, will you please leave us." It was a command, not a question.

Anakin wasn't about to leave Sereine alone here in a conversation he sensed could potentially devastate her. "I'm not going any farther than the corridor," he said. "Sereine?"

She turned her head, but she couldn't quite look at him. "All right," she said. "Thank you."

***

Anakin's footsteps retreated behind her and the door slid closed, leaving her alone with Palpatine in the office. She wondered how much Anakin could hear on the other side of the door and if he would try to listen. The last thing she needed was another accusation of faithlessness from him and Padme.

Finis's, she could never escape. Because they were true.

Palpatine walked halfway around the desk and stopped. She realized she didn't want to see his face now; she could read him too well. If she saw something there that would hurt her, she didn't want to regret starting this entire year—whatever may come of it now—or to suddenly become incapable of finishing it.

And she didn't want to feel the devastation of knowing she had never meant anything at all to him.

Palpatine said, "My wife is a commendable person. She is a lovely spirit."

Sereine felt a flare of anger and said, "I guess that would presume she has some." A deep pain grew below her breastbone and spread throughout her stomach.

The ghosts of years past floated through her mind, her and Palpatine locked together in his bed. She often wondered if anything he shared with little Amne Selrieen compared to those nights, so long ago, when they had pushed each other toward their highest achievements and their greatest passions.

She had approached that sort of intensity a few times with Finis ... but only approached it.

Sereine was too honest to deny it. This is where he crushes me. Where I've laid so much on the line, dragging Finis, dragging Anakin, dragging Padme, dragging a whole unwilling Republic into this, because once again I bet on him, and he shows me there's just nothing there.

I kept the faith with him. And now he's going to show me I've been so, so wrong.

Finis had been trying to tell her this for years, and she would not hear it.

She had a wild image suddenly of leaving after this, palming Padme's blaster, and aiming it into her spleen. Where the burn would torture her to the utmost as she died.

She forced herself to look at his face, and found it absolutely unreadable.

He turned, his arm across his robes, and walked to gaze out at the speeder traffic. "What Amne has is honesty, and sincerity."

Pain fired the impulse to hurt back. "Oh, so we care about that, now? The Sith Lord who's casually slain several million of the people who love him."

Palpatine made a sound between a tsk and a snort. He glanced aside at her. "I mean that she hasn't a manipulative bone in her body. Unlike you, my dear."

Her diaphragm pulled a sudden involuntary breath that hitched audibly.

It was as if he were saying Amne was more important to him for the very qualities that would never have gotten him here. When she knew now that as the Sith master, this office was vital to him. She remembered all the times he had alluded to this, in coded language she only now understood.

She was the one who had gotten him here, and now he was punishing her for her "insincerity."

She thought for a minute. "What? You think because she wears her heart outside her robes that I don't care about you?" And then the realization hit her, and she lost control and screamed.

"I could never be that for you because you wouldn't let me!" He flinched at her sudden volume and turned to look at her with a pinch between his brows. She saw the look with a little dart of triumph.

"All those nights you woke up with nightmares? All those nights your hands hurt, or your eyes turned yellow, or you stalked upstairs after those awful walkabouts like you were about to fly into a million pieces? I wanted to go to you! I wanted so badly—" and then tears constricted her throat and stung her eyes, and he would know now how much it had hurt.

She had to stop and control her breath. "I wanted so badly to take you in my arms, to stroke your hair, to cover you with kisses—" and then the tears streamed down and she just had to let them. "And you wouldn't let me! You pulled away, you ran from me, and I had to let you be. And now you're telling me someone else is the 'sincere' one!" Her voice rose into a keening wail, and she could do nothing to stop it.

She struggled to control her breathing, to suppress the sobs that caught her throat, brushing tears away, and saw that he would not even look at her.

When she could speak again, she said, "You dare to criticize me for being manipulative? Sheev, that was what you needed, and my allegiance was to you. I put you first, over the people, something I swore I would never do, and what you needed me to do to get you here, I did."

Suddenly she was so angry she could have crossed the floor and beaten him with her fists. "And you're going to stand here and put me down for it! Why are you standing here and putting me down for it?"

He stared outside and would not look at her.

She shot forward and caught him by the arm. He shook her off, and for a moment she saw a face that frightened her; a mouth of pure anger, eyes that glittered like ice.

"You won't even let me use the word 'love' in your presence! I tiptoed around it for eight years! And I saved  you at Theed, Sheev! You lost elections on Naboo for years and you would have lost that one, too, and I saved you for this and you know it! I helped you lay the groundwork for what you did here, and you lied to me about that. I saved this office for you just now, again, and I may even have saved your life! Don't you know—"

She grabbed his arms and pulled at him. His pale palms flashed in her face as he warded her away. He snapped his arms free of her and crossed them over his chest, backing away from her.

She followed, determined to chisel away at the granite in his expression until at last she saw something  there. "The night the war ended, I sat there in my kitchen all night with Anakin and Finis and I pleaded for your life. My Kinschem, do you not understand that no woman does these things without loving a man to distraction?"

She laid her hands on his forearms and he shook her off. She looked up into a visage that twisted with hate.

"You married him!" he shouted at her. "You married him!"

"You left me!" she screamed back, and the tears started again. "All those years we bargained and discussed, and I finally, finally said yes. And you left me!" Now the sobs tore from her, and she had to cough and wail around them. His face blurred in her eyes. "I begged you to speak to me, and you were gone. You were gone! You were gone!"

And then she stood there, shaking with sobs, her face in her hands, such as she'd sworn he'd never see her cry. All the pain and desolation and confusion of that time struck her as if it were happening all over again, and she cried as hard as she had then.

She lost herself in pain.

When she could finally look up, drying her face on her sleeves, she found him against the far wall, his arms crossed over his chest, his face turned away. As far away as he could get from her. Ignoring her.

She told him the rest of it anyway. "I was alone and I was devastated. Finis was alone and he was devastated. All we had was each other. You wouldn't speak to me."

She shouted this last: "What did you expect me to do!?"

At last his head came up and he looked at her.

And this is where nothing matters, she thought.

He gave her a long, searching, appraising look. She saw something about his eyes that—

At last he spoke. "I never spoke to you again because it wouldn't have mattered. I could never explain something you could never understand."

She stood, heaving, feeling the dampness of tears evaporating on her cheeks.

She had never let him see her like this.

"It would have done us no good, 'Reine. It would have prolonged something I knew I never should have done in the first place."

The words pierced her very soul, draining her of every last shred of her confidence. All this, and he was telling her she had only been an eight-year mistake to him.

It had taken some confidence to pull them all into this year, this tense, fraught, crucial year.

Confidence in herself. Confidence in him.

Confidence she now feared very, very much that she had misplaced.

What would she do now?

His brow furrowed. "However ... I think you've learned a bit since then. Certainly, since the night the war ended. More about the Force. More about me."

His shoulders lowered, a subtle movement.

"Perhaps I can explain it to you now."

He walked to his desk, bent to pick up the statuette she had thrown, and sat. "Would you sit, Sereiné?"

Through the pain of despair, a tender arrow of peace.

She walked to a chair in front of him and sat. She crossed her arms in front of her and looked up at him.

He held his artwork in his hands and addressed himself to it. "Having known Anakin for some time now, perhaps you appreciate the years and years of study and training that go into making someone with Jedi abilities a person who can actually use that potential."

She said, "I'm starting to, I think."

He avoided her eyes, staring into the face of the statuette instead. "Understand that for a Sith to reach a master's proficiency in the Force, the training is ... brutal. I was fortunate, my master always gave me a choice and explained to me why the training is what it is, but my abilities are hard won at great cost."

His eyes flickered up to meet hers, and then down. "At this point in my life, I am the greatest Sith master who has ever lived. I have achieved abilities no one else has. And I have discovered, if I lay my practice down for a bit, it can be difficult to pick up again."

He paused, and she waited.

"When we were together, I did find it difficult. I would leave my practice for a bit, to work with you on some objective—"

"Or play," Sereine said.

His blue eyes glinted up at her. "Or, play," he said. "There was that. And I allowed myself play, as long as it didn't interfere with my work. When we'd part, I tested myself in several key areas, and as long as I maintained my proficiency, I allowed myself you."

He stared down at the statuette almost as if he were in a trance.

Sereine looked down at her hands. "We were together a long time," she said.

"Yes."

"And then we weren't."

"Yes."

Sereine could guess what he was implying. She kept silent, in the hope that he might say more.

At last she said, "I enjoyed making you play. I think you needed to play."

His face carefully blank, his eyes rose to meet hers, then flickered away again, across the room, back to his statuette. "Be that as it may, even if I were willing to accept some small compromise—which I wasn't—I had no way of knowing if it would continue, or possibly even worsen. I had to make a choice, and I made it."

Finally, he met her gaze. "I couldn't explain that to you."

"It was me? How?"

He rolled the statuette in his hands. "Apparently. And, I'm not entirely sure."

She turned that over in her mind. Finally, she said, "I'm sorry to have done that to you. I would never seek to change any abilities or talents you have."

A slight flush tinged his cheeks. "Oh, wouldn't you?"

She leaned forward. "I wouldn't! I—I think you and Anakin are beautiful, and wonderful." She swallowed. "I always told you you were magnificent. I guess even I didn't know how much. I would never change who you are."

He sat the statuette on its base with a click. "Then what are you doing here?"

"You're harming others. I keep trying to tell you this. I admire your wildness and your beauty and your ability. But you're harming so many others. That is the one thing I place above you. The only thing."

His gaze fell to her hands. "Except that ring on your finger."

"I owe Finis a great deal." She considered how much to say. "Since we're being completely honest, he saved me after you left me. Not only that ... when you suffer a spinal injury, it isn't just walking and continence you have problems with. Finis was so gentle and patient with me, I will never, ever forget it. I may—" and she had to stop.

Tears roughened her voice again, as she realized how much what she was saying would have hurt him, had Finis been here to hear it. "I may not place him above you, but he's precious to me, nonetheless, for that. Can you understand that?"

"So, I myself put him in my place, then, is what you're saying."

Now she was completely confused. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Can you understand this?" His tone dropped into the low register, and his eyes gleamed suddenly in a way that frightened her. "I did that to you."

"What?" A twinge gripped her chest, like a cold needle through her heart.

"I did that to you." He leaned menacingly across the desk, then rose to his feet.

"Do you mean ...?" She felt distinctly uncomfortable suddenly, sitting while he stood. Slowly she stood up. Placed her hand over the fusion in her lower back.

"I was there, wasn't I?" he said. "I came to you earlier, and you escaped. You ran away from me. But you couldn't think you could betray me in that manner, and I would not answer it."

With a sickening rush, Sereine realized it had to be true. How many Jedi healers had told her her chronic pain held the Force signature of the dark side ... and been completely confused by it, since she herself was Force-blind?

Palpatine had been in the office that day ... the night after she had slipped into the corridor and run from her apartment, because he came to her door and she found herself afraid he would hit her.

Palpatine's eyes narrowed. His voice dropped into an oily whisper. "Now, you hate me. Oh, yes, you do."

Sereine's stomach turned. She backed away, stumbling in her fear and revulsion, only to find she was drawing him with her as if she were pulling him on a string.

He stalked her steadily, coming around the desk, driving her toward the window. "'Love' me. Oh, yes. Until you know me, until you truly know the worst I've done. Then, you, like all others, hate me."

The window stopped her; she could go no further. He drew closer and closer, garbed and gowned in black, a strange light in his eyes, fists clenched. "Oh, yes. Just give in to it. Hate me, 'Reine. I know you do."

What was this? Hate me, hate me ... why was he asking her to hate him?

And ... she couldn't be in any real danger, because if she were, Anakin would come through that door, and kill Palpatine. Anakin wouldn't let him hurt her.

Did he hate himself? Did he hate her for the hate he believed she bore him? Why was he here, advancing on her as if he were going to eat her alive, telling her these horrible things and coaxing her to hate him? Just as her stomach coiled in revulsion at the very thought this man could injure her, when she had loved him—here he was. Hate me, hate me.

Were you testing me?  jibed a memory. Why, it was just the other night she realized he had wanted to tell her his secret years ago ... and she had failed a test. She had betrayed his trust, which was so hard for him to even contemplate offering anyone.

He had struck back at her in rage. And now, here it was again.

Clarity clanged like a bell. He was testing her again.

And she absolutely couldn't fail it a second time.

Hate me, hate me ... Whatever did one say?

Did she hate him? Honestly, did she hate him? And yet, the diabolical eyes, the black robes, the hard face, the clenched fists. He looked as if he could choke her where she stood.

I'm safe, she told herself. Anakin's just outside. I'm safe, I'm safe ...

If I believed Finis hated me, what would I want to hear?

She wanted to shrink away from him, she wanted to cringe. I'm safe, I know I'm safe. She allowed herself to slide a few steps along the window in the direction of the door. A cold shudder shook her; she knew he saw.

She said, "I am in profound sorrow over the things that you have done. But I will never, ever hate you. Never, ever, never." She only wished he would explain why he wouldn't let go of this. He had finally explained why he left her, after over thirteen years, finally. But this obsession with the dark side, this insistence on war and iron rule ...

That was the next thing she needed to get out of him, and he would probably never explain that. Not to her. But: small dart of hope. He would tell Anakin.

He stared at her.

"I will never hate you, Sheev. I will never hate you. Never." She let her voice drop to a hushed whisper.

And realized she was shaking with fear. Even though she was speaking to her beautiful Palpatine, whom she had never believed would appear to her as a monster.

I'm going to pass, this time, if it kills me.

His eyes bored into her.

"I don't believe you." His low whisper somehow filled the room.

"Believe what you like," she said. "I can't force you to believe anything."

Then she realized that she could move. She could drop the tension, and she could move. A weakness swept her, as if she had just run twenty kilos.

She turned and walked back to her chair and sat. Suddenly she was so weary of it all, he could snap her neck if he wanted to. It was all so much, too much, and she was tired, incredibly tired. She closed her eyes.

She sat, and he stood, and for a timeless time she just sat there with him. Tension shot up her spine into her neck, and the muscles began to ache.

She tipped her head back, resting the back of her head on the back of her chair, and she knew now how old they really were, and now they could never go back. She saw again moments lost forever to time, saw them moving and living together once again. Plotting and negotiating both their rises to the very top of their professions, the camaraderie even in their sharpest disagreements. The times they laughed together over some ironic or disgusting or ribald bit of Senate gossip. Sliding into one another's arms after weeks or months apart, dancing together in the utter glory of lust. All phantoms now, yet they had been real once.

And she realized she still missed it terribly. She still loved that Palpatine, so much. Even though she had perhaps the best husband anyone could ever have.

She had seen, at the beginning of this, a Palpatine who didn't cause any more harm than he needed to. She wondered if that were changing now, and why.

She remembered a Palpatine who laughed, who could play, a Palpatine for whom people had once mattered ... sometimes. She had the mark of his teeth on her shoulder still from one very passionate evening. She had loved that life they had.

After the destruction of the war, she sometimes wondered if there were anything of that Palpatine left. She wondered if she would ever understand, if he would ever tell her.

More than likely not. Now and then, she got the sense that he was moving away from her and Anakin, moving away from them into a firestorm, where the winds howled in a hot, furious gale. Where no one else could follow. Yet, even now, she preferred to think further back, over twenty years before, to the night he stole up behind her and first murmured in her ear. The night he first walked in.

Their story had become a ghost story, and yet she knew from the way he sometimes spoke to her, touched her, kissed her ... he remembered, too.

His robes rustled as Palpatine turned.

At last, she heard his voice in the stillness. "How is it, with him?"

Her pulse pounded at the back of her neck and she closed her eyes, raising her hands to massage the muscles with her fingers. "I don't know," she said finally. "We were miserable when we got together, and misery loves company. I love him, but our lives just fell apart. So much is different now."

The shadow by the window moved. Slowly he approached, gliding into the light from his desk lamp.

She opened her eyes and looked at him. "What about you? Are you happy?"

He stepped to his desk and sat, his arms on the armrests. His face looked lined, tired ... old.

"That's a naïve question, Sereiné. Only beings with no understanding of the power of the Force can ask questions like that one. The dark side is ... it's a communion."

"But does that communion make you happy? Does it make you feel well? Are you all right?"

He waved his hand at her, and said the words she had heard so often from him, they could have been sitting again in his Senator's apartment, so many years ago.

"Sereine. Enough."

She let that lie. Maybe one day, she could bring it up again with more success.

"What about little Amne? Are you happy there?"

"Oh, she is a sweet little thing," he said, and she couldn't decipher his tone. "I had no intention of marrying ... but I did receive an attractive offer from her family. On balance, I thought it would be beneficial."

"It was arranged." Sereine put her hand over her mouth.

"I wouldn't have done it otherwise, you know that. And it's been expedient, politically."

Sereine nodded. "It has."

She caught her breath then. "Is she allowed to say, 'I love you?'"

He sat back in his chair. "Well, it would be strange and awkward if she weren't."

Now she could not meet his eyes. "And are you allowed to say, 'I love you' as well?"

His voice held a gentle note. "Well, it would be strange and awkward if I did not."

She thought he was finished, and then he said, his eyes roaming the walls, "We had separate bedrooms for a bit, recently, and I think it was the most restful time I've had since I married her. Actual evenings, alone with the Force, for the first time in years."

He looked at her, and the frightening apparition that had just stalked her was gone. It was as if there were two Palpatines, at least for now. Taking turns. And she didn't know what to make of it.

And, apparently, Amne Selrieen enjoyed a gift from him that Sereine had never been allowed. That hurt, more than anything.

She stared at him, apprehension and emptiness and sadness all mixed up inside her, and saw two pensive eyes looking straight into hers.

For the first time ever, he was speaking to her honestly. And something in his eyes acknowledged it.

He said, "And after the Invisible Hand, she was so relieved to see me. And she is so honest, and so good."

He leaned forward and put his elbows on the desk and put his face in his hands, and spoke with humor and chagrin. "And, I want to lock her in the closet."

It reminded her so much of old times, when they'd commiserated together on the Senate floor, in the office, in his bed, with the same sort of exasperated humor. And Sereine started to laugh, exactly as she had then.

He looked up at her and smiled.

And then she felt very sad.

"Oh, Sheev. What's happened to us?"

He looked at her with long lines in his face, and said finally, "It couldn't be helped."

She bowed her head and willed the tears to stop.

And then he got up. Obediently, she stood up, too.

He passed her on his way to the door. Impulsively, she threw her arms around him.

He turned and slid into her arms exactly as he had all those years ago. Their bodies fit together the same, even though everything else was no longer. Their kiss was yesterday's kiss.

Anakin opened the door to find them holding one another.

***

NOTICE: If you haven’t read past Chapter 33 in Midnight yet, the following is a SPOILER!!

Years later, with Palpatine sick in the Pavilion ...

Anakin sat forward, put his arms on the table, and put his face in his hands. "Why didn't you tell me this years ago? It would have made things so much easier then!"

Sereine stared down into her mug of kaffe. "You could have asked me."

"I couldn't have asked you! You had tears coming down your face all the way home. I worried about leaving you there all alone." He lowered one arm to the table and looked at her. "I figured if you wanted to tell me, you would. I wish I had known this then. I would have known we were doing the right thing. Sereine, we did the right thing! This is proof! It would have helped so much to know this, then."

"I just didn't see any point. I knew he remembered, and it didn't matter. We were married to other people and the choice was made and it was all over years ago. It was just a sad, sad night. All of this has been sad, to me. You didn't know him, then. It's like watching his soul die, and there's nothing I can do."

Anakin slammed his other palm down. "But it did  matter! It does!"

She looked up at him. "Not that I can see."

"Sereine!" Anakin leaned forward, his blue eyes blazing at her. "Don't you see what all that meant?"

She shook her head.

"He loves you. Palpatine loves you!"

"That's ... not what I heard." She lowered her chin and shook her head. "What I heard was, his wife got to hear that. She got to hear those words, not me."

Anakin reached across the table and grabbed her hands. "Sereine, there isn't even a word for love in the entire Sith language. Did you know that?"

"No."

"Well, there isn't. There's so many prohibitions against attachment in the training of a Sith that ... it's almost as bad as the Jedi Order."

She blinked.

"Sereine, he can only say it when it isn't true. The same as he could never accept comfort or care from you, or even real acceptance from either of us. The only way he can handle it is when it isn't real. When he knows it is, he runs."

Her eyes skipped away from his, then lowered to the table again.

"Sereine!"

She looked up at him.

"He didn't have to divorce Lady Palpatine because being with her impaired his ability to reach the dark side. He lived with her for ten years. But, you? The instant you said yes ... he had to make a choice. He even told me that early on. I just didn't realize what he was saying."

Sereine turned her hands to grip his. "You really think so?"

"I know so."

She lowered her head and sniffled. When she looked up again, her eyes were wet.

"It's nice to hear that from someone. Even if it isn't the person who should have told me."

"But, Sereine ... he did  tell you. He may even have been lying to himself about what it meant ... but he told you the truth."

She raised one of her hands to brush away a tear. "But ... how does this help us now? How do we help him, now?"

 

Sorry, I didn't need to post this but it won't let me delete the message that was here.

 

Authors' notes: LLL says, "This story corresponds to a chapter called 'The Sith Strikes Back' in 'Midnight in the Garden,' between the time when Sereine sees Amne in the office and Finis' handwritten message to her. Anakin has taken the oath of fealty to the Sith Order, but has now reneged on his word. Palpatine is trying to find a way to force him to keep his oath. But before that happens..."

This is largely penned by LLL, but DarthIshtar tweaked the dialogue, designed the wardrobe, etc. to make sure this Amne and Anakin scene was in character according to her character.

----

"Do you take this man with the intention of honoring him in love and truth? Do you swear to be faithful and devoted in all things and to cherish and guard him in sickness and in health, in prosperity and poverty. in trials and joyful occasions until death separates you?"
"I do." -Wedding vow of Lady Palpatine

--

Anakin’s mind wandered as he drove his speeder through the congested lanes to the Senate Office Building. It always did when the piloting was as boring as this … when life was as boring as this. He was beginning to feel disused, itchy, uncomfortable. Forgotten. Frustrated. He knew that being home, getting up at night with the twins, making sure Padme got enough rest were critically important things to do, but not being able to do anything on a larger scale made him feel … diminished, somehow. Unworthy.

He had automatic clearance to land and the robotic sensors checked him through a kilometer away on approach. Parking was easy, as the Chancellor had a space reserved in the hangar decks specifically for him. For what now, I don’t even know, he thought.

A woman in a light yellow dress caught his eye as he shut the speeder down. As he lifted the canopy and got out, she started walking toward him. He blinked, then recognized Amne Selrieen Palpatine, First Lady of the Republic and Chancellor Palpatine’s wife … whom of course he knew, but she was the last person he would expect to see walking toward him here. She wore her hair caught up at the nape of her neck, with stray long curls falling over her shoulder.

He turned. “My lady. A surprise to see you. Is the Chancellor out? He summoned me to his office.”

“No, Anakin,” she said in that cultured voice that always sounded formal even when her words were not. “I’ve only just come from seeing him upstairs.”

Anakin remembered himself and offered her a deep bow. “I trust you are well, milady.”

No smile. Lady Palpatine even had a habit of kissing him on the cheek in greeting, but not today. Anakin felt a dart of anxiety.

“I am,” Lady Palpatine said, “and you? How are your wife and children?”

Anakin pictured Padme at the breakfast table this morning, struggling to keep her eyes open. “Very well. She’s tired, but all’s well, and I’m very grateful for that.” Then he said, “I didn’t expect to see you here. I thought the Chancellor must have been called away and you must be waiting for him. Or that something else was wrong.”

The First Lady surprised him with, “Actually, Master Skywalker, I was hoping to speak with you.”

Anakin felt doubly aware then of the traffic landing and taking off, people streaming past them on their way into and out of the building, casting glances at two of the most famous and recognizable faces in the Republic. “Me, milady?” he said. “How can I be of service?”

The look on her face worried him. He stretched toward her in the Force as she touched his arm and set off in the direction of the Chancellor’s private lift. What he felt stopped him with a jolt. He found himself trying to parse it out. She led, and he followed a step behind.

“Master Skywalker,” she said. “Some things have been much on my mind lately. I wondered if I might discuss them with you … as I walk you to my husband’s office.”

Anakin said, “Of course, my lady.” Her familiar sense in the Force was always there, of course, a sort of gentleness that caught him around her almost as much as it did around Padme. The First Lady was a sweet, sweet person, he had always known that. But something else hung in the air. Apprehension, Anakin guessed. Yes, that felt about right. And something else. What?

“How can I help you?” he said.

They stepped into the Chancellor’s lift and Anakin pressed the button for the private level. The lift started with that familiar dizzying rush–which repeated just as abruptly as Lady Palpatine reached out and pressed the stop button.

“I would speak with you for a moment … about the Loyalist committee. It would seem they are not so loyal these days.” She turned to face him, crossing arms in delicately embroidered sleeves in front of her. “At least, not to my husband. Master Skywalker, where do you think their true loyalties lie?”

She was asking him about the Loyalist committee? Anakin’s first thought was that the Chancellor had asked her to, for some reason–but no, Palpatine would simply have asked him this himself. They were long past playing games, he and Lord Sidious. “I’m hardly privy to that information, my lady,” he said. Something around her resonated in the Force, something sad. Something … Anakin could not quite put his finger on it.

Amne Palpatine leaned back against the wall and looked up at him. “But Senator Amidala is instrumental in the affairs and the direction of that committee. She has long been an ally and even a friend to my husband, yet she is among those who seem to oppose the Chancellor at every turn, even now.”

Anakin had it now. Sadness. But not about the Loyalists. Sheev himself was uppermost in her thoughts, and the sadness was about him. Could she know? he thought. Surely not. Besides, the feeling held some faint tinge of guilt, somehow. As if she were trying to make something up to him.

Anakin stopped himself, realizing he was on the verge of trespassing too far into the First Lady’s thoughts. He hadn’t thought it was possible to sense this much from her.

But then again … he had never tried to before.

Concern creased the fair skin around her hazel eyes. “He is doing all he can to return to a peacetime government as sensibly as possible. Anakin, do you think the committee realizes that? Do you think Senator Amidala realizes that?”

Not only does the Senator realize that, she also realizes why. Anakin tried to think of the most diplomatic thing to say, given the circumstances. He went with, “I’m not sure what my wife realizes, my lady. She respects my work in the Chancellor’s office, and I respect hers.”

If he could put Lady Palpatine off, so much the better. Should I warn Palpatine his wife is getting overly concerned about this? And if he did, what would Palpatine do?

Amne said, “I’m sure Sheev appreciates your Jedi discretion, but do you mean to say that you and your wife never speak of the situation?”

Anakin said, “I can’t say we never do … but I do appreciate peace in the house, as my wife does, and with the babies now our family is uppermost in our minds. Especially now that I have no business in the Jedi Temple, I really can’t impact things anymore as I might have, and we … we don’t discuss it.” And there was that useless feeling. That disused feeling that pricked him all the time these days. If only the Council hadn’t dismissed me, how much more useful I could be in all of this. It was a helpless feeling to only be able to look on. Helpless and infantilizing, as if he were of no more consequence than Luke or Leia.

He mattered to Palpatine. But for how much longer? And what would come the longer this went on? The First Lady could never understand how much Padme was not the problem here.

She asked, “May I ask what you do know of her mind on the matter?”

Dishonesty would scream out to her even without the Force, although Anakin could tell now just how much ability there she really had. “I know that she distrusts the Chancellor now.” Oh, how true that was. “And it saddens me very much.” And that was, too.

The melancholy that clung about her in the Force made its way into her eyes. “It saddens me as well, and it worries me.” She broke eye contact to glance briefly at the floor. “I know it distresses my husband, and I’m not sure there’s much more he can do for the time being.”

Two earnest amber eyes glowed up at him again. “I wish so dearly for a more reasonable attitude on the part of the Loyalists.” A gift, he realized. Something about this felt like a gift, from her to Palpatine. And he could name the emotion around her now. Contrition.

If she only knew how much Palpatine, and not his wife, should be feeling that right now.

Anakin said the only thing he could say. “I can’t say it wouldn’t help, my lady.”

“I wonder, can you not speak with her about this?” Amne said. “This stalemate must be broken somehow, even if … even if we must ask the Jedi Council to intervene.”

That snapped Anakin to attention. He only hoped the alarm didn’t show in his eyes.

He tried to misdirect her. “The Chancellor wishes to involve the High Council? This is the first I’ve heard of that.”

Steel glinted in her eyes. “Not the Chancellor. Myself.”

That was exactly what he was afraid she’d meant. Sereine … emergency meeting at Padme’s.

He said, “You, my lady? You would speak with the Council, on this?”

She said, “It would never be my place to address the full quorum. But perhaps, I could consult with Master Yoda. Or Master Kenobi.”

Anakin stopped himself from closing his eyes in pure horror. To have the First Lady drag Obi-Wan, or worse–much worse! Master Yoda–into this would be a disaster of shattering proportions.

He tried to keep his tone gentle, respectful, and even. “My lady, I would ask that you not. Do please let me relay your concern to my wife.”

And then he had a sudden, awful, thought. “Had you given any thought to when you might do this? Have you contacted the Council, at all?” he asked, straining to keep the same gentle tone.

Sending him into paroxysms of relief he willed his face not to show, she said, “I hadn’t as of yet. I thought I would speak with you before I did so.”

“I’m–glad to hear that.” His breath caught in his throat. “Please give me your word you won’t, until I speak with Padme. I know she’ll want to speak with you.” He punctuated this with a nod.

“Will she?” A spark of hope lit her eyes. “I would appreciate that.”

Anakin’s mind raced. First, whisper in Sereine’s ear, them comm Padme as soon as he could. Whatever meetings Padme had planned for this evening, she’d have to break them. “I’ll tell her. May I contact you at the First Lady’s office?”

“That would be satisfactory.” Amne smiled.

Anakin’s thoughts swirled like a hurricane. What if they would actually have to tell her about her husband? And what would Palpatine do then? What would Amne do? “Please wait for my message, my lady.” He tried to put the right amount of emphasis into the words: not begging, but close.

“I will,” she said, and finally smiled. “Thank you, Master Skywalker.”

Anakin reached out for the stop button, and tried not to panic as the lift started upwards.

 

Author's Note from DarthIshtar: To be clear, this is the story where the Alternate Universe that I imagined where Palpatine was married to an ambassador's daughter from Alderaan gains an Alternate Universe of its own. Book 4 of Wife of Deceit will cover the truth that Palpatine is a Sith, but the circumstances are nothing like this scene. Wife of Deceit does not involve this kind of supportive environment and what happens in this story shapes Lady Palpatine's new ending. The song quoted is "A Step Too Far" from Aida by Elton John and Tim Rice and is one of my favorite songs about a conflicted woman in love. A great deal of this was written by LLL with my feedback as the mind behind Amne, but I am posting with her permission and our collaboration.

-----

I am certain that I love him

But a love can be misplaced

Have I compromised my people

In my passion and my haste

I could be his life companion

Anywhere but where we are

Am I leader? Am I traitor?

Did I take a step too far?

----

Sereine stood alone in Padme’s fresher, giving herself a long look in the mirror. It had been a struggle to decide what to wear, how to do her hair. In the end, she had selected her work cloak, and simply braided her hair down her back.

Her braid was red again, but she couldn’t deny the signs of aging in her skin, around her eyes, on her neck and hands.

The woman to whom Palpatine said “I love you” was thirty-five. Thirty-five years old, petite, and beautiful, possessed of all the patrician dignity required of a Supreme Chancellor’s wife … and she would be here in less than thirty minutes.

She should be worried lest Amne Selrieen Palpatine come completely apart at the news that her husband was the Sith lord and rush to the Jedi Temple to start the war to end all wars. If she did, she would be doing Palpatine’s will in a way they all hoped she would stop and reconsider.


Instead, the sickness deep inside Sereine had much more to do with the fact that, arranged marriage or not, the man she used to consider “her” Palpatine had spent ten years telling Amne Selrieen he loved her, when he would never say it to Sereine nor allow her to say it to him.


Sereine had spent thirteen years, ever since Sheev’s wedding, telling herself there was simply no way he could share the passion with anyone else that he had shared with her. She had spent a total of twenty-three years telling herself that no one knew Palpatine the way she did, that no one was closer to him, that if he could have loved anyone, it would have been her. She had begun this quest to turn him largely because of that.

Now, after that horrid conversation alone with Palpatine, she knew it wasn’t true. It was good of him to explain, it was compassionate of him to hold her and kiss her–far beyond what she felt she could have expected of a Sith master–but clearly, whatever heart he had belonged to the woman Sereine was about to meet for the first time. And she was ashamed that the ache in her own heart was over this.

It shouldn’t matter whether Sheev loved her. It shouldn’t matter who he loved. What mattered was that he be saved. That his life be saved, and all others along with it.

Because the instant she and Anakin had brokered this armistice with him, all sides in this conflict had become one. She, Palpatine, Anakin, the Jedi, and all the people in the Republic were now on the same side, all their interests hanging in the balance. If this fragile armistice broke, so did the Republic and everyone in it. That should be her one and only concern.

That, and saving Sheev, turning him. If that only mattered to her if he loved her, then she had never loved him at all. Surely it would matter just as much to the woman for whom an arranged marriage had become love. Sereine should be able to trust in that.

As for herself, she would carry on with this as a last and loving gift to Sheev, as penance for her mistakes in bringing him to power; and then she would go home to the best and most loving husband any woman had ever had, and give Finis the best of herself. He deserved nothing less from her.

She should sit and let the others carry the meeting. If Lady Palpatine knew who she was, that course of action was definitely best. But it was more than likely that she did not; that Palpatine had never mentioned her at all. In any case, Amne Selrieen was First Lady, had performed admirably in the role, and had lost three of Palpatine’s children under terrible duress, and that alone deserved respect.

Sereine brushed away her few tears, and willed that there would be no more. At the very least, she could keep her heartbreak to herself.

Finis must be wondering where she was.

She wiped her eyes one last time, lifted her chin, and walked down the hall to Padme’s living room. Finis stood by the fountain. His eyes followed her across the floor as she came to stand by his side, reached for his hand, and pressed her cheek to his sleeve. He looked down at her as if in surprise; affection from her had been in short supply of late, and the gesture made her feel even more guilty.

Anakin and Padme sat stiffly on the couch, Padme in a too-loose maternity dress; her regular clothes were still too tight. A simple blue dress, with her hair down in curls. She and Anakin were holding hands, too.

Padme looked over at Finis. After a long uneasy spell between them borne of that awful day when she had toppled him from the Supreme Chancellor’s podium, there had been some rapprochement between them Sereine hadn’t been present for. It said a lot about the state of things between herself and Finis that he hadn’t told her. Someday soon, she should ask him.

Padme said, “Ready?” and Finis said, “As much as I can be. I understand the beginning of this has to rest entirely on me, but I wish it didn’t.”

Padme said, “I–” and then the bell rang.

------

It’s so strange he doesn’t show me

More affection than he needs

Almost formal too respectful

Never takes romantic leads

There are times when I imagine

I’m not always on his mind

He’s not thinking what I’m thinking

Always half a step behind

Always half a step behind


Anakin stood. “I should,” he said.

“Right,” said Padme, and then raised an eyebrow at Sereine and Finis. “Sit,” she said.

Anakin’s voice murmured a low greeting, and a feminine voice floated back to them. Sereine drew a deep breath.

From the corridor they came, Anakin leading the beautiful young woman Sereine had seen over and over on holonet news and several times at a distance, in the Chancellor’s office. In person, she was smaller than Sereine had expected, almost as small as Padme. Her black skirt spread around her as if she were wearing an undergarment meant to create some fullness; her high-necked blue satin shirt, buttoned down to her wrists, was of the shade of blue Palpatine himself had often worn as Senator. She wore her red hair loose and pulled back from her face. Sereine recognized the necklace she wore; a wide piece on a chain consisting of blue stones arranged to suggest water, and emeralds for the riverbank. It was a popular style at home and reminded her of a brooch Sheev had once bought her. She remembered that occasion with a brief stab of pain.

Padme stood; Finis stood, and Sereine stood beside him.

Amne Selrieen Palpatine stopped short.

Padme bowed her head. “Lady Palpatine. Welcome.”

Finis bowed and Sereine dropped a small curtsey. Finis said, “My lady.”

Lady Palpatine glanced from one face to another. Then she gave Finis her own small bow and said, “Chancellor.” To Padme, “Senator.”

“Welcome to our home,” said Padme, in a tone Sereine could tell was her most friendly and soothing. “May I get you anything? Please, sit.”

“No, thank you, Senator,” said Lady Palpatine, cool as a breeze. Sereine could do it, too, though she mostly chose not to. Excessive formality did a client who needed a cold dose of reality no favors.

Amne smoothed her skirt and chose a chair. Anakin returned to Padme’s side and sat, looping his arm through hers. Finis sat, and Sereine beside him.

Lady Palpatine fixed an amber stare on Finis. “Chancellor Valorum. I was not forewarned that I would find you here.”

Now for it. Sereine felt his arm tense beneath her hand and gave him a surreptitious squeeze.

Finis said, “I realize that, my lady, and we apologize for the surprise. I realize the purpose of this meeting was to discuss disarmament issues with the Senator. However, in the course of that, some facts may arise that we must request never leave this room.”

Lady Palpatine raised her brows and leaned forward a bit.

“We’re here,” said Finis, “because you did indicate to Anakin that you wish to involve the Jedi Council in matters between the current Chancellor and Senator Amidala. And we must ask most sincerely that you do not.”

Lady Palpatine’s eyes traveled briefly to Padme, no doubt wondering why she didn’t speak for herself. “I believe the Senator and her husband know why I am here. I have cause to question both the intentions and actions of people I had believed to be allies of my family.” Her eyes strayed to the Jedi and her voice lowered in pitch while losing none of its firmness. “It troubles me that I may feel called to ask for help beyond these walls; I pray that the answers I seek can be found within them.”

“It’s imperative,” said Finis, “that the Jedi Council stay very far away from the Office of the Supreme Chancellor for the time being. I’m afraid that any attempt to involve them in a matter between you and Senator Amidala, we must object to. Also we must request that friends of yours in the Senate not be involved. Bail Organa, specifically.”

Sereine saw her brows angle in displeasure; Finis pressed on. “You aren’t aware of the fragility of the armistice that’s been in place since the deaths of the Separatist leadership. Things are much more tenuous than you realize, my lady.”

Lady Palpatine was frowning in earnest now. “An armistice between the Separatists and the Republic was part of the leaders’ conditions of surrender. You think it will not hold?”

“No, my lady,” said Finis. “There is another, informal armistice no one knows about. Between the Republic and the Jedi.”

“The–” Lady Palpatine said, and stopped. She sank back into her chair. “Perhaps you’d better explain this to me.”

Padme spoke. “If the Jedi Council spend any amount of time looking into matters in the Chancellor’s Office, they’re likely to discover one piece of information that will shatter this peace and put them in direct conflict with the Army of the Republic. It’s a very delicate situation the Jedi won’t even know they’re stepping into.” She glanced down at her hands and looked earnestly into Amne’s face again. “That’s why it’s important that any differences you have with me, must be settled with me. I’m more than happy to listen.”

Lady Palpatine swallowed once. “Very well, then,” she said, and turned to Padme. “The signatories to the Petition of the Two Thousand have shown such strong opposition to everything my husband has tried to accomplish, for many months now. There is supporting evidence for the belief that you are the person most responsible for that, Senator. I confess that I do not understand it. Sheev is very fond of you, you must know that. You have been his political ally since you were fourteen, my lady, and he yours. What has happened?”

Anakin looked at Sereine, who met his gaze with a sort of sinking feeling.

She paused. “I hope you understand that, as heartbreaking as it has been to see the loyalists turn their allegiances from my husband, he must feel the schism’s effects on an equally distressing level. There has been no explanation, while my husband has relinquished so many of the emergency powers that were given him and does have an orderly plan to relinquish more. Yet, you continue to persecute him.”

She leaned forward, her back pin straight in a posture she must have rehearsed for years. “Senator … why will you not stop this seeming vendetta you have against him? Must I go to the Jedi for assistance, or can we agree to a cease fire here?”

Sereine caught Anakin’s eye and mouthed, He doesn’t know she’s here. Anakin agreed with his eyes. She returned her gaze to Amne’s face to find her looking right at her. Then she thought, He must feel? As in, She doesn’t know?

Weeks ago Sereine would have stared right back. Now she snapped her gaze to the window..

So far, they had gotten away without revealing the secret. Padme met Sereine’s eyes with a tinge of exasperation in her own, and a little quirk of her brows; then she looked at Finis. Her question was plain: Do we tell her?

It was an inconvenient time not to be able to talk. Sereine looked at Anakin and tried to ask him the question with her eyes. Anakin gave her an uncertain frown.

Sereine returned her gaze to Palpatine’s wife to find those hazel eyes squarely on her.

Amne turned her attention to Finis. “Chancellor, if I may inquire,” she said, “I realize that Master Yoda is an old and dear friend, so I can appreciate a reason for your presence here. But …if I might ask why your wife is here as well?”

Silence. No one quite knew how to answer that one.

Sereine stared at Padme’s blue carpet for a moment, then she raised her head. “I’m here because I know Sheev Palpatine,” she said. “And I’m here because Anakin needed me.”

Amne Selrieen held Sereine’s gaze in an even stare. After that He must feel remark, Sereine was in no mood to back down. Clearly this had not been a topic of discussion in the Palpatine household. Is anything? She says she loves him. And she began to feel angry.

Padme spoke. “Lady Palpatine, I don’t have a vendetta against your husband.” She said it with an earnestness and a sweetness that touched Sereine, and then Sereine saw the look on her face and realized: Padme had decided. She was going to tell her.

“What’s happened here is that I’ve discovered something about him that only the four of us know, and that the Jedi must never know. Or at least, not until we’re absolutely certain it’s safe.”

Finis took up the cue. “Because if they do, my lady, they will attack him. And with Palpatine in command of a good many battalions of the army, those kinds of hostilities are something that must be avoided at all costs.”

Anakin stepped in. “I was the one who discovered this, my lady, and I came to Sereine and the Chancellor for help. And since then–” he looked around the circle, acknowledging the three of them. “The four of us have joined hands around Chancellor Palpatine, because we need to protect him from the Jedi … and the Jedi from him. And the Republic from the conflict that would arise, if we didn’t do this.”

Under cover of a fold of her long skirt, Sereine felt Finis grip her arm. She moved her other hand to rest over his.

Amne Palpatine gave them a hollow stare. She leaned against the back of her seat, seeming to contract into herself, thinking.

At last she said, “May I ask what this is that you’ve discovered about my husband?” Her voice was low and tempered with steel.

Sereine took heart. Maybe she could withstand this news, after all.

Anakin glanced around at everyone, announcing that he would take it up from here. Instantly, Sereine knew what he would say, having been on the receiving end of this herself not so long ago.

“My lady,” said Anakin, “I wonder how much you know about the rumors of a Sith lord operating somewhere in the highest levels of government?”

“I have been made aware of them,” she said. Her face was impassive, but her breathing quickened, as if her body could know the truth before her mind.

Anakin said, “Lady Palpatine … the night the war ended, Chancellor Palpatine identified himself to me as the Sith lord.”

The shallow breaths stopped altogether as the woman went perfectly still, her posture rigid and her expression frozen. Sereine watched with sympathy as her ivory skin turned pale. Her features crumpled into an expression of helplessness and horror. Her mouth opened in an agonized, mute square.

And then the air rushed out of her in a keening wail as she slumped forward, arms crossed protectively over her abdomen. Sereine remembered this moment only too well, and her heart went out to her.

Anakin sat with such sympathy on his face. Tears gathered in Padme’s eyes.

Sereine had said, We just have to sit with her. Let her have her cry out. Support her; we’ve all been through this.

Yet, how should she support someone whose husband she’d coveted ever since he left her thirteen years ago?

Finis wore an expression like stone, but she saw the compassion in his eyes. Presently he got up, and she heard water running in Padme’s kitchen.

Padme got up and crossed the room to her. Leaned over her and put her hands over Amne’s. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “We’ve all been through this moment. Force knows, we understand.”

Anakin looked away with a grimace of regret while the composed and stalwart First Lady shrank and transformed into a person consumed by grief and impotence. Amne shook Padme’s hands away. Then she put her own over her face and sobbed.

Finis appeared at her side holding a glass of water. He laid his hand over her bowed shoulders and slowly stroked her back, up and down. Sereine saw the sorrow in his eyes, and something else: impotent rage at Palpatine. Anakin got up and walked over, too, and the three of them formed a compassionate net of human love and kindness around the woman who sat at their center. Her ragged sobs filled the room. Finis leaned down and held her shoulders as she gasped for breath.

“I can’t–I can’t–” Amne wailed the words, and then she began to cry again. Padme looked at Sereine, and made a wiping motion over her face.

Somehow, they had all forgotten to set out tissues. Sereine got up and went to the nearest bedroom–Finis’s–and returned with a box. That it was only one quarter full worried her.

“Oh,” Amne sobbed, and the pain in her voice seared the very air. “Oh, how many people? How many people has he killed?”

She sobbed again, and Finis said, “I guess we may never know the number, my lady.”

Amne looked plaintively up at Padme, her face red, swollen, tear-splotched. Her breath hitched. Padme handed her a tissue. Palpatine’s wife held it to her eyes for a moment, pressed it to her cheeks, hiding her mouth.

“Just this morning, I woke up next to him,” she whispered. “I kissed him, I held him. We had breakfast. He was my husband.” Her voice broke. “And now, tonight, I return home to a hated enemy who has killed millions.” Her hazel eyes, wide and tremulous, jerked hither and yon around the room as if she sought an escape. They fell directly on Sereine, who could only look back at her with memories of the night of her own baptism in this fire.

“How can this be?” Her voice rose in a cry that was painful to hear. “How could he–how can I–?” And she began to cry again.

“We’ve all been through this,” Anakin murmured soothingly. “We’ve all been through it.”

“It’s all right, here,” said Finis. “We’ve all cried our tears over this.”

They stood like that interminably, while Amne cried, stopped, cried, stopped. At last Amne sat there, cried out, her head bowed in her hand. At last, she took the water from Finis and sipped.

Padme crouched on the floor at her feet. Anakin lingered close by, then sat at the closest place on the couch. Finis remained standing at her shoulder.

At last Amne looked down at Padme. “You have just given birth to twins, my lady. Do get up, please.”

Padme rose, stiffly, and Anakin got up to help her. They settled themselves back on the couch.

Amne looked at Anakin, and said, “How did this come about?”

“Palpatine is the Sith master, my lady. He’s asked me to apprentice,” said Anakin.

Amne gulped. “Surely, you would never …?”

And then it was time to explain. Round-robin, they took Amne through that difficult night, Anakin’s premonition of a difficult childbirth, Palpatine’s offer and stipulations, the crafting of Palpatine’s speech and how they had cornered him into giving it. Sereine’s hidden reward of an additional year in office. How they had settled into uneasy detente.

Amne at last looked at Sereine and addressed her directly. “You knew … you knew this? How could you even think to grant him one more day?”

Sereine gave her an even stare and said, “That’s how you have to deal with Palpatine. We need to engage him, we need to re-engage his mind, and for that you have to be even in power to him. When you’re his peer, he’ll come out and be conversant with you. He’ll think and consider and turn things over in his mind, and that’s what we need. One hand giveth and one hand taketh away. If you aren’t in a position to do that, you have no influence with him. Even-even, balance-balance, give-receive; and that’s how it’s got to stay. This year is how I did that. We needed to command respect, and that is what we did.”

Padme said, “Now everyone’s fate hangs on that balance. Anakin’s discussed the fate of the Sith lord with the High Council. They want to attack him. I’ve tried to involve a few Senators in this, including Bail, and it’s not going to work.”

Finis moved to stand before Amne rather than behind her. “No one has a bent to approach the hypothetical unmasking of the Sith lord with anything that won’t lead to a catastrophic conflict between Palpatine and the Council. And we cannot risk that. If the Council attacks the Chancellor … what will that bring? Especially if they lose. Any violence plays into his hands, my lady. It must be avoided at all costs.”

Amne breathed with hard little jerks. “But you cannot continue this forever. What happens as his final year in office draws to a close?”

Sereine glanced around at Anakin, Padme, and Finis. In turn, they all glanced at her and each other.

At last, Finis said, “We do not know.”

“It’s going to be a very difficult year,” said Sereine. “We’re going to have to join our hands and ride it out. He’s going to struggle to slip around us any way he can. Finis studies the relevant law day and night, and he’s the only other living person to hold that office. He’s been able to predict some of it, but Palpatine is desperate. He’s gambling on his ability to turn Anakin. You have to understand that he’s the last surviving master of his order, and he’s trying to preserve it. He’s in fear for his life, and part of what’s happened is because he always has been.”

“Right now, Anakin is drawing all the fire,” said Finis. “At this point, we are all trying to support him in any way that we can. If Anakin says no …”

“Should you gain any knowledge that may help us, we ask that you share it,” said Padme. “As we humbly ask for your silence.”

“I can’t, I can’t promise that,” said Amne. “How can I? How can you?”

“I remind the First Lady, since we did this, there has been no more bloodshed. We accomplished all this inside of twenty-four hours without firing a shot. Approach Palpatine the right way, and you get results,” said Sereine. “We ask that you allow us to continue.”

Anakin leaned toward Lady Palpatine with his heart in his eyes. “Sereine and I …” he said, and cast a look at Padme that said, Please don’t argue. “Sereine and I want to try to work with the Chancellor. We believe he has potential to come out of this. We believe he has potential to turn.”

He glanced at Sereine. She locked eyes with him, hoping to convey her thanks with a look.

Finis cleared his throat. Sereine saw the flicker of anger in his eyes, and put her hand on his arm. He had to know that if he spoke of his doubts here, it could drive Palpatine’s young wife straight to the Jedi Temple. Finis swallowed and said nothing. Anakin held Padme’s gaze with a meaningful look, and when Sereine looked down, she saw him grip Padme’s hand and squeeze.

Amne’s eyes locked on Sereine’s with a deep distrust. She looked around at everyone else, and the look muted into confusion and grief.

“We must have an answer from you, my lady,” Anakin prompted.

“I need some time,” said Amne. “I cannot decide so important a question in an instant.”

“Do you wish to be alone, my lady?” asked Padme, and Amne locked glances with her and said, “Amne.”

Padme nodded and said, “Padme.”

Finis nodded as well and said, “Finis, if you please, my lady.”

Anakin was silent. She already called him Anakin.

Sereine said nothing.

“Padme, yes,” said Amne. “I do.”

“Do you have any more questions for us, my lady?” said Anakin.

“I do not,” said Amne. “I need the company of my own thoughts.”

Padme nodded at the back corridor and said, “The study,” and they all stood.

In the study Sereine said, “How do we know she won’t just leave?”

“She isn’t,” said Anakin. “I can sense her in the room. She’s moving toward the fountain, looking out onto the balcony. If she moves to go, I will stop her.”

Sereine turned to them and said, “I just want to give you my heartfelt thanks for today. I could not have done this. I questioned whether I should even be here.”

“If she says no,” said Padme, “what are we going to do?”

“We cross that sky when we fly it,” said Finis in a somber tone.

“She’s more likely to say no if the two of you share your opinion that Palpatine won’t turn,” said Sereine. “Whatever your opinions of him, or of Anakin and me, please don’t share them with the First Lady.”

Finis and Padme looked at one another. Finally Padme said, “I know she’s right.”

“Yes,” said Finis.

Anakin leaned down and kissed his wife. “Thank you, Padme.”

“I’m going to go and check on Luke and Leia for a minute,” said Padme.

Sereine took the opportunity to slide her arms around Finis. “Thank you,” she said. “I know this has been a lot of strain on you, Kinschem. I’m so sorry about all of it.” He looked down at her, and she raised her chin and stretched up to kiss him. “I love you,” she said. He turned in her arms to hold her.

After a moment he leaned down to kiss her again. “I can stay tonight,” Sereine whispered. “Do you want me to?”

He whispered, “I thought you might never ask.” He gripped her harder and swayed her gently from side to side, and guilt gripped Sereine nearly as tightly as he did. How could she hurt as wonderful a husband as Finis? It certainly wasn’t that she didn’t love him. Somehow, she had simply expanded her heart to hold both.

Sereine turned to find Anakin gazing out of the window on the far side of the room, affording them some privacy. Padme walked back into the room as they unclasped each other and gave Sereine a quick smile. She walked over to Anakin and slipped her arm around him, and they talked quietly in whispers.

Then Anakin turned and said, “She’s looking for us.”

They filed out into the living room again. Amne Selrieen Palpatine lingered near the hallway and retreated to her chair as they approached.

Everyone sat and Amne met Anakin’s eyes. Then her amber gaze turned to Padme.

“In memory of the love I’ve held for him, you have my silence,” she said.

Sereine had to look away from her. Anger boiled within her; anger, and sorrow for he who was once again and always had been, her Palpatine, mingled with a deep, deep gratitude that, on that one and fateful night, Anakin had not done this to him.

Oh, thank all that was that Anakin had loved Palpatine enough to think of him, to want to know his mind, to come closer instead of running, to ask to understand. That took love, and thank all that was, that night.the two of them had had it.

Because the wife to whom Palpatine had given the words, “I love you,” had just abandoned him.

And Sereine couldn’t even look at her for that.

And Palpatine thought Sereine had betrayed him from time to time. Do you ever notice? The reliability you realize from being brutal to people is much more trustworthy than when you simply rely on them to love you.

Sheev had said that the night Sereine first said “I love you” to him, and no wonder. Could this woman who had received those words from him offer him no better than that?

Just then, she pictured Sheev’s face in her mind, and she told him, I will always love you. I will never leave you. And she had to lower her head to hide the two tears that ran down her face.

If everyone who really knew Lord Sidious turned away in bitterness … what chance did he have?

“We’re most grateful for your silence, Amne,” said Padme. “I want to say to you, as one whose husband has been chosen to become the next Sith, I know how hard this is. If there’s anything I or any of us can do to help you, please. I sincerely do want to help in any way that I can.”

“Are you all right going home tonight, my lady?” said Anakin. His eyes rested briefly on Sereine’s face, noticing her tears, then tracked to the First Lady.

Sereine thought, Thank all that is, two of us are able to do this. I pray that’s all it will take. Two more tears coursed down her face, and she saw that the First Lady observed.

It would have been very difficult to step aside if Amne could have stepped in, but preferable for Sheev, Sereine thought. She had even steeled herself for that. As it was …

Amne said, “I was to go home to him tonight. He had promised me a quiet dinner together. I do not believe–” she said, and stopped. She closed her eyes and whispered, “I don’t believe I can.”

Sereine lifted her chin. “Not to worry, my lady. Anakin and I will detain him. You can have a bit of time alone to assimilate this tonight.” Finis stirred beside her, and she felt a pang of regret. But Finis, Finis had family, three sons, an ex-wife, cousins, Bail, Padme. Daughters-in-law. Grandchildren.

Who did Palpatine have? Anakin. Sereine. That was it.

Once again, Sereine would keep the faith with him. She wondered how he would react when Amne left him, if it were her he truly loved.

Whatever happened, she and Anakin would be right by his side.

----

I’m in every kind of trouble

Can’t you tell, just look at me

Half ecstatic, half dejected

All in all I’m all at sea

Easy terms I thought I wanted

Fill me now with chilling dread

You could never know the chaos

Of a life turned on its head

Of a life turned on its head

----

The eighteenth hour. Anakin and Sereine rode up in the Chancellor’s private lift to take their places across from him for one of their long nightly discussions.

Sereine touched Anakin’s arm. “Give me a few minutes alone with him, before you come in?”

Anakin gave her a puzzled look. “All right.”

“Just to go the fresher, or something.”

Anakin excused himself once they were in the office with Palpatine, and Sereine came around his desk. “Get up,” she said. “Come here.”

Palpatine gave her a quizzical arch of his brows, but he got up.

Sereine drew close and slipped her arms around him. Palpatine started in surprise.

“What–?” he said, and she looked at him, deeply into his eyes.

He didn’t take the hint. “Kiss me,” she whispered. The master gave her another questioning look and a soft peck. She reached behind his head, her fingers in his thick hair, and pulled him to her again for a long, heartfelt kiss that said everything she could not say to his wife today. She felt his arms tighten around her.

He gave her a searching look. “\Madiya,” he said, in the tone in which he would have said, What do you want? She recalled this word from long ago, but she had no idea what it meant. He would never tell her.

“Zoragarria,” she said. “Zora.” The Naboo word for magnificent, the name she gave him during their time together years ago. “You told me once never to say this to you again, but I’m saying it tonight, and you will hear it,” said Sereine.

“I love you,” she said. “Zora, I love you.”

The sides of his mouth pulled back and he frowned at her.

“Stop it,” she said, and kissed him once more.

 

Author’s note: for LLL’s birthday, I wrote about the morning before that life-changing “you’re married to a Sith Lord” scene. This is not Wife of Deceit canon, but the start of an AU involving Naome Selrieen Palpatine. (Mara means bitter. Naomi means joyful. Boy, is this the start of something complicated.) If you haven’t read the Wife of Deceit series, the chancellor’s wife has had two miscarriages and each time she got pregnant again, she dreamed of having a daughter with red hair and green eyes.
****
The first thought that crossed her sleep-muddled mind was Tonight.

She often awoke to notice the time on the bedside chrono or to register that some matter of state was so urgent that Sheev was speaking with an advisor over his comm link while dressing for an urgent meeting. If she were too tired to rouse herself, she would take accounting of simpler things such as the rattling of rain against the window panes or whether she had slept comfortably.

All of that was inconsequential this morning. Tonight, she would put life-changing information into words and for now, she had to resist the overwhelming urge to interrupt the Supreme Chancellor’s morning.

Amne Selrieen Palpatine opened her eyes to find her husband still sleeping. His mouth turned down slightly at the corners, but it had been days since he had cause to smile in her presence and she supposed that the war had changed his resting expression.

Sheev had not been there when sleep took her last night, but she could see the collar of his nightclothes beneath the blankets that were nearly pulled to his chin. It pleased her that he was hopeful of so much rest that he put himself to bed instead of spending a restless night in another room of the Mansion; in this state of repose, he even looked oddly vulnerable.

Erasmesheev Palpatine daring to sleep this soundly meant that the Republic could be left to the wisdom of lesser beings for a few hours and she dared not interrupt that rare experience.

For the next minute, Amne matched the pace of his breathing and felt the contentment of the morning deepen into calm. She even attempted to join him in sleep, but there was still a secret fluttering of exhilaration that demanded her consideration and she finally turned her full attention to words that she had been mulling over for days.

Beloved, I’ve been dreaming again.

I have felt a change recently and the doctor confirmed that we are to be parents.

We—you and I—changed each other’s lives on the night I returned to you.

It will be different this time. I know it.

We’re having a daughter.

It was fortunate that the mother of the Chancellor’s child had resolved to speak to him tonight because none of her words were adequate to the announcement. It was possible that she would spend her spare moments revising her opening remark.

The mild irritation left her in a quiet sigh and Sheev stirred. Eyes still closed, he reached out an arm to encircle her waist and drew her so close that only breath and their child separated them.Amne let her right hand graze the soft skin beneath his jaw, then slid further to stroke the nape of his neck. Without a need for invitation, he leaned into the embrace and captured her mouth.

He stole her breath in that moment, greeting her with comfortable intimacy that usually signaled that they did not have long to be together. Several moments later, though, the morning tenderness that was familiar intensified and she found her hand tightening reflexively against the warm skin above his collar. Her breath left her again in a quiet sigh as her back met the mattress and he silenced her with another kiss.

It was not to last, however. He pulled away a moment later, looking slightly affronted. “What is it that you find amusing?”

Amne hadn’t been conscious of the quick smattering of laughter that had left her throat, but the outburst of joy had left its mark in the irrepressible smile on her face,

Instead of dismissing the question or distracting him, Amne rested a hand against his heart, both of their pulses elevated. “We have time for…” Her cheeks flushed and she let the toes of her right foot graze his leg. “I didn’t expect such happiness this morning.”

“We have time enough for such happiness,” he echoed, his expression softening at the explanation. “I do not care to compare schedules at this moment.”

This time, the laugh was less spontaneous and she did not mind it at all when he stopped her mouth. Her hands found their place against his lower back and there was no mistaking her intention as she invited him closer.

Tonight, she thought, they would talk but this morning, there was a deliciousness in other forms of communication.
*
Had matters of state not been so consistent in their interruptions, Sheev might have suspected something earlier. The nausea and vomiting had been more difficult to reckon with this time and Amne had followed her medic’s suggestion of eating bland foods and lean proteins. Medication had tempered the worst of it and while she still found herself averse to some foods, she was grateful that their unexpected morning together did not include any gastrointestinal issues.

The steward brought their favorites, rewarding the Chancellor for his presence with a fresh basket of his favorite bread as the kitchen staff often did when he returned from some journey. Sheev raised an eyebrow at his wife, but only thanked the man. Once the door had shut, he let the other wheaten eyebrow raise.

“Have I truly been absent long enough to warrant a homecoming?”

The honest answer was yes, but Amne opted for the diplomatic answer. It was not by his choosing that he was unable to spend more than a few hours on a given day in their home.

“I think you have been absent in a way that reminds them of the taxing and time-consuming nature of your work,” she said. “Don’t think too much about the baker’s intentions.”

He nodded and divided the pastry in half, gallantly offering the other piece to her. He surprised her a moment later by using the hand-off to squeeze her fingers affectionately and Amne returned the gesture before retreating to her side of the table

“What shall I think of your intentions?” he asked once they had finished their portions. “That was quite a homecoming.”

“As I recall, you were the one to take initiative,” Amne rejoined. “I thought it an excellent idea and my intentions were to encourage you.”

Had the steward not returned with a pitcher of water at that moment she might have admitted to wanting to continue supporting him in his agenda, but it was a family rule that they try not to embarrass the staff. As it was, while she was still in her nightgown and a robe, he had changed into clothing more appropriate to a Senate session before they descended to the dining room. He was clearly prepared to move on to the things that could not be put off for much longer.

“I’ve disappointed you,” Sheev said.

She looked up suddenly from the fruit that she had speared with a fork, taken aback. “I’m sorry?”

“No.” He inclined his head towards her. “I watched your joy fade just now and I blame the Republic.”

“I always blame the Republic,” Amne said, attempting a smile. She ate three more berries before continuing, “I have loved this more leisurely morning, but we each have duties to attend to. The Senate reconvenes in an hour and it will take you half that time to travel from your vehicle to the Box. A quarter of the hour will be spent in traffic, which means that–”

“This is precisely why I had no interest in comparing schedules earlier,” he finished with a sigh. “I think the joy just faded from my face as well.”

She could alter that with three words, but she couldn’t speak them out loud with his brow now furrowing. “I’m sorry to have dampened your spirits.”

A quarter of an hour before he needed to leave meant that at least one member of staff would arrive in the next five minutes to ask to ride with him. He cheered himself up slightly with another piece of bread, then quickly drank his water while Amne finished her own plate.

“I cannot spare much more time for you but permit me to walk you back to our rooms,” Sheev requested.

She accepted his arm as he offered it and they even ignored the ringing of the anunciator chime as they mounted the stairs. As expected, someone was here to make demands of the Chancellor and she loved him for completely ignoring that fact for a few minutes.

At the door to their wing, he gave her another kiss of the kind that had preceded their dedicated intimacy and he cupped her face in his hands, their eyes meeting for a long moment after it ended.

“Thank you for such happiness,” he said simply before letting his hands fall and turning away.

She watched him until he turned the corner and touched a hand to her lips. The smile returned.

Tonight, she resolved.

 

New/Old/Last Work by Darth Ishtar
I've had a hard time deciding where I wanted to post these. I could have gone back to where Ish originally started reposting Wife of Deceit ... but, reading those, they still contain errors. Although we tried like heck to find and fix every single instance of Palpatine's first name, which fandom assumed to be "Cos," before LFL made it official that his name is "Sheev Palpatine," we did not find all the "Cos"es and there are some other surviving typos and things on those two posts. If I put them there, readers have to read the first two posts twice, and that's annoying. If I started a new thread, it's under my name and not hers, and that seems not to fit, to me. Plus, if I put them here, I can start off with a short bonus, and Amne's story is, well, mostly in order.

I quit posting Murder by Murder on here but continued it on ao3 and ff.net. As I worked, a development came up that was most exciting. I messaged Ish on Facebook and went, "OMG, OMG!! Here is where Palpatine and Amne first met!!" And I invited her to take over and write those few scenes as a guest author on Murder.

So, we started talking. The Selrieens and this entire trip to Alderaan come from Darth Ishtar, who sadly passed away before this chapter could be finished. We had this all blocked out. The opera, the dresses, the hair, and much of the ideas for dialogue are all hers. But, she got made editor at FanSided, and started writing for, like, five sites over there. They were paying her pretty well. She was doing paid work for them every night before she could do any fan fic, and working on her original novel as well. She broke her ankle, she moved, and Darth RL got in the way. I took what we had, and ended up writing this very first meeting of Palpatine and his wife myself.

After this next bit, I will repost the first two books of Wife of Deceit, and I will get them all up here, I promise, with notes. Ish was still working on them, and we discussed things she was adding that I never got to see drafts of. (Which is sad. She has such a delicate writing style with Amne and Palpatine I know they would have been fantastic.) But, the stories are finished enough to post and not leave readers hanging, and her sister gave me permission to post, so post them I will. I hope those who loved Ish will enjoy some of these last pieces of her work.

First up ... On a schmoozing, business-deal-wooing, fact-finding trip to Alderaan, Senator Sheev Palpatine encounters a girl who will one day be important in his life.

 

(The following fits into Murder by Murder as Chapter 19: Oh, What a Lovely Night.)

Merchant Amon Selrieen’s home rose, gleaming, conical, and proud, set into the mountainside as all Alderaanian homes were in this locality of Crevasse City. The wide vista of snow-topped mountains stunned Sereine, accustomed as she was to the emerald green and relative flatness of Naboo and the duracrete spires of Coruscant. Palpatine, seated next to her in the back of the livery transport, caught her leaning forward to take it all in and said in her ear, “That’s right … you’ve never been here before, have you?”

“Of course I have. I crisscrossed the entire planet with Bail campaigning for Senator. But I'll never get tired of this view. It’s so beautiful!”

Palpatine laughed softly in her ear, and she felt his hand steal around hers. "Yes," he said. "Cold, but lovely." The gesture touched her; it was so unlike him. Clearly, a few days’ rest had put him in a pleasant mood.

As the speeder drew closer and entered a majestic courtyard with a fountain—nonoperational today, probably because of the cold—the great front door rose and four uniformed servants emerged to stand flanking it, two at each side. Cloaked in shadow, two figures stood inside waiting to welcome them: the lord and lady of the mansion.

The speeder drew to a stop and Sereine gathered her skirts, preparing to disembark. Palpatine, having attended many gatherings of this sort as Ambassador-At-Large, had advised her on what to wear. They had settled on a simple mauve dress, a heavier knit, with long sleeves and a high neck, no jewelry. She had done her hair in a pompadour as a nod to the formality of the occasion and the illustrious company. Her coat was a heavier version of her usual gray working cloak. Palpatine had chosen an ethnic Naboo frock coat and slacks in slate blue, with polished black boots.

They alighted and their hosts walked out to meet them. The lady, in a spreading bronze-colored gown, blonde hair up in an elaborate coif, led a little girl of about four by the hand, dressed in a costume so similar they were probably made to match. The lord of the manor, a shorter man with hazel eyes, a ruddy complexion, a forelock of light brown hair, and a beard, wore a pleated tunic that matched his wife’s, with dark brown slacks.

“Senator Palpatine! Welcome to our home.”

He extended an arm and Palpatine shook his hand and nodded to Sereine. "This is Ms. Lumisol."

Sereine gave her hosts a polite bow of her head. "Sereine," she said.

“My wife, Calah,” Selrieen gestured, and Lady Selrieen stepped forward with a quick curtsy. “My daughter, Valeria—also known as Vali.” The little girl, prompted by her mother’s hand on her shoulder and likely a few sessions of preparatory coaching, bobbed a curtsy as well. Then Selrieen turned around, apparently searching for someone, and Sereine noticed another girl, reed-slender, in the way of young teens. Selrieen stretched out his hand.

“And my older daughter, Amne.”

Amne’s hair was as red as Sereine’s, only a few shades more toward the orange. She wore it demurely braided behind her. Her dark brown, mid-length dress, dark brown tights, and sensible shoes enabled her to hide in the shadows; now she stepped forward into the circle of her father’s arm and dropped Palpatine a low curtsy.

And then she smiled shyly up at him and offered him the same obscene signal he had flashed at Vice Chair Amedda during his Emancipation Speech.

Sereine was not close enough to Palpatine to put her hand discreetly on his arm, and could only hold her breath.

Palpatine laughed. Not the sort of polite laugh that covered an uncomfortable moment, but a genuine laugh, the sort of laugh she heard over their private suppers and scandalous Senate gossip.

“You must forgive my daughter, Senator,” said Selrieen, his ruddy complexion suddenly a shade redder. “She is fifteen and unused to luncheon with foreign dignitaries.”

“Not to worry,” said Palpatine, in as merry a tone as Sereine had ever heard him. “I’ve seen a lot of that in the past few months, enough to understand people mean well by it. It’s simply a gesture of support, yes—” Palpatine fumbled for the name. “Amne?”

Amne bowed her head. “Yes, sir, it is.”

Sereine drew abreast of Palpatine, and he offered her his arm. “No harm done,” he said lightly to Selrieen; but Sereine noticed as Selrieen and his wife turned to lead them into their home that the lord of the manor was standing on his daughter’s foot.

As Sereine walked in, a warm rush of air reached for the Senatorial party, swirling with the importance of the moment. Four more house servants lined the foyer, done in shades of bright white and warm maize, the tension on their faces intimating the tenterhooks of a house, unused to such high guests, that was not only hosting Senator Palpatine today, but also the husband of the very Queen. Every surface gleamed, including the leather on the servants’ boots.

At the end of the line of servants stood Viceroy Bail Organa himself.

Sereine hurried forward to take his hands in greeting. “Bail! I wasn’t sure we’d see you today.”

“The Queen is detained with the Council of Thanes, so I was free to join you,” said Bail, and turned to greet Palpatine with a handshake and an arm clasp. “Sheev, how good to see you. I trust you’ll be joining us for the opera tomorrow night?”

“Absolutely,” said Palpatine.

Selrieen led them into a sumptuous dining room with a long, polished table, where a soup course was just being laid. Sereine snatched her datapad from her pocket before the valet took her coat.

Lunch was mainly a long business meeting, during which Selrieen attempted to convince the Viceroy and Palpatine that the new firm he was advising could indeed handle the shipping expected of it, and why this would be preferable to handing yet another shipping permission to the Trade Federation.

“I know we must be boring the ladies here, and I apologize,” said Selrieen while they waited for the meat course.

“Not at all,” said Sereine, who had been concealing her pad in her lap and making surreptitious notes. “My job is to listen and take notes, and if Sheev decides he’s in, we put something together for the next permissions session of the Senate.”

“When is that, by the way?” said Selrieen.

“Three weeks?” said Bail, and looked at Palpatine. “Three weeks, I think.”

“I think so, too, I haven’t checked,” said Palpatine.

Selrieen narrowed his eyes at his eldest. “Amne, what are you doing?”

“I’m … making a few notes, myself, Papa. It’s for my civics class.”

“In the middle of—” Selrieen’s hard gaze met his wife’s, and his ruddy skin pinkened again.

Palpatine surprised Sereine again by gallantly coming to Amne’s rescue. “And what are you studying right now?”

“It’s a unit on current issues in the Republic Senate. One of the issues …” Amne stopped and blushed. “One of the things that’s being discussed right now is how much freedom should be given to large corporations and how often that’s coming up. We have to write a position paper.”

Palpatine leaned forward. “And what’s your position on the topic?” He waited until the girl looked away before meeting Sereine’s eyes with a look of amusement.

Amne looked back at him, hazel eyes blazing with sincerity. “That they never should have seated any corporations at all. Because corporations aren’t people, but they have more money than people, so what they want always … goes.” She blushed again. “Especially since they got to seat worlds like Felucia who always vote with them."

Bail Organa raised his wine goblet. “Hear, hear,” he said. “From the mouths of babes.”

“Indeed,” said Palpatine. “I quite agree.”

“But,” said Amne, “you were on the side of the Trade Federation. When they let all those corporations in to develop the plasma shipping on Naboo. Which is sort of odd for a person who can make those speeches everyone loved and was so good on the Tonight Show.”

The amusement faded from Sheev’s eyes and he shot Sereine another look. She’s a bold one, isn’t she?

Sereine settled back to see how Sheev would handle himself. The Emancipation glow was bound to wear off soon, and this was indeed the truth. It was going to come up.

Sheev leaned back in his seat, pausing as serving staff filed in with plates of delicious-smelling shaak steak. He gazed into his place setting as he was served, and then looked up, lifting his fork and turning it over thoughtfully on the long axis.

“I will admit I was, at the time. And I was cautioned by the opposition, we all were. I simply failed to realize how ruthless these people can be.” He cut himself a bite of steak. “I’m pleased to see the younger generation on Alderaan is less provincial and naïve than we were.” He nodded to Selrieen and enjoyed his bite.

Selrieen nodded in return. “I will inspect this paper before she turns it in,” he said. “No trade secrets.”

“Naturally,” said Sheev.

Sereine was very satisfied with that answer, and with his demeanor. She filed it away in her mind toward his next reelection debates, when the issue would surely come up. Remember that luncheon with the Selrieens, she could hear herself saying. Bring yourself back there. That’s how you should look and sound.

But something else struck her, too. She needed to catch young Amne alone before her stay here was over.

“While my wife is putting the finishing touches on dessert,” said Selrieen, “perhaps you would care to tour the house and grounds? And I’ll show you to your rooms, in case you should need to freshen up.”

***

Amne Selrieen stared into the mirror at a completely foreign creature.

Was that her in that floor-length purple gown, a draping ruffle down the skirt, a fluttery cape brushing her elbows? Was that her in such a grown-up hairstyle, braided behind her and then long curls flowing down? Was that her in heels so high, she was afraid she might teeter and fall climbing the stairs to the Queen’s box?

She was stylish. She was beautiful.

Mother, having done her own hair and makeup, sprayed her own hair with glimmer and then Amne’s.

“Now …” she said, setting the sprayer down.

She walked out of the room and returned with a small jewelry box, her sapphire skirts rustling. Amne felt the warmth of her at her back as she leaned down to set the box before her on the dressing table.

“Open it.”

Amne reached forward to find, within the velvet box, coveted treasures.

“These are your pearl and Corusca earrings! And, oh, this is lovely …”

“You may borrow my earrings for tonight, but the pearl and Corusca necklace is yours, from your father and me, for your first important outing as a young woman.” Her mother lifted the necklace halfway to Amne’s neck, stopping in midair. "If …” she said.

That familiar chill darted through Amne, always present any time she disappointed Mother, or most definitely Papa, from the time she had broken Papa’s favorite timepiece when she was Vali’s age, to the time she almost failed geometry, to yesterday.

Mother watched her eyes in the mirror and continued, “If you can avoid embarrassing your father and me as you did yesterday. I would encourage you to say little tonight and avoid discussing politics, or the Senate, at all.”

“Senator Palpatine didn’t mind,” Amne protested. “He thought it was funny. And I knew he would. Papa simply doesn’t watch the Tonight Show.”

Calah fastened the pearls about her neck. “Perhaps you may have gotten away with that one, but that other comment during luncheon was uncalled for. Had it left a Senator’s mouth, or even your father’s, he would no doubt have been very angry. We are in the Queen’s box tonight, child, guests of the Queen and her husband. You will remain silent unless you are spoken to, and then you will keep anything you say bland and boring.”

“Mother. The Senator asked me what I thought. What was I to say?”

“Anything other than something directly critical of him. Put your earrings on, we are about to be late.”

“But I wasn’t being critical—”

“Amne!” said Mother, turning in the doorway. “I still have the option of leaving you at home.”

Amne put her other earring in and said nothing more. She assumed opera was boring and had no idea how she would while away nearly three hours of classical music in a language she did not understand, but there was no way she would miss tonight. The Queen’s box, how exciting!

And she liked Senator Palpatine, found him modern in a way none of her classmates would have expected. And all Alderaanians loved the Viceroy.

She met Sereine Lumisol coming out of her guest room and had to stop and stare. Tight on top, gathered and drapey with layers on the bottom, Sereine’s dress, the warm red of greelwood, had a long scarflike thing that began at the floor, passed through her yellow velvet waistband, then covered one shoulder like a capelet before draping behind her back and expanding over her other shoulder like a sheer shawl. Bare, but not too bare, considering the Queen always dressed conservatively and it was best to do so as well in her presence.

But there was no doubt she would probably outshine Queen Breha tonight. Her long red hair, parted on the side and caught up away from her face with two faceted yellow jewels, rioted down her back in glossy curls.

Senator Palpatine, resplendent in a black evening suit, emerged from his guest room and Amne heard his sharp intake of breath. “My,” he murmured, and strode to Ms. Lumisol and kissed her hand.

Then he turned and noticed Amne, and his quiet comment was, “Well!” He walked over, stopping directly in front of her, and Amne looked up in confusion, at once sensing his nearness and looking up into two kind blue eyes.

The next instant her hand was in his, warm and strong, and he was bending and she felt his lips on the back of her hand.

Goddess Taia, thought Amne, and suddenly her cheeks felt hot as Mother’s curling iron and she couldn’t stop the nervous laugh that rose to her lips.

Composure. Intelligence, Amne told herself. Don’t pass out from excitement any time someone with a title talks to you.

The Senator straightened with a sort of twinkle in his eye and moved on to her mother. “My lady,” he said, and kissed her hand as well. Mother looked down at her with a sort of instruction in her eyes: This is how to behave when a man kisses your hand.

They all turned for the staircase, and Amne held her skirts well up in the front and hugged the banister for dear life.

If she fell down the stairs in front of Senator Palpatine, she’d literally wish she would die right here.

She found herself next to Sereine Lumisol in the speeder. Prepared to say nothing, she got another surprise when Ms. Lumisol turned to her. “Amne,” she said. “Did you just glean the, um, hand signal from the news, or do you watch the Tonight Show?”

Amne caught Mother leaning forward to glance across all their laps at her, and felt a bite of her dinner rise up in her throat. But she had to say something, so she said, “Well, it’s on before Coruscant Comedy Live, and no one misses that show on the weekend. So, we all watch it.”

“People at school, you mean,” said Sereine.

“Everyone at school.”

“Really,” said Sereine. This close, Amne could hear the tinkling of her long earrings and smell her perfume. “So, tell me,” she said, “what did your classmates think of my client two months ago? Did they notice him, or just kind of gloss over that part and eat snacks while they waited for the next bit?”

“You mean Senator Palpatine?” Amne said, and then could have smacked herself. Who else could she mean? Well, the Viceroy was her client, too.

But then, the Viceroy had never been on the Tonight Show.

“My friends liked him,” she reported honestly. “We all did. We were all behind what the Viceroy was doing. And the Senator just made everybody laugh. The end of that speech, and the Tonight Show.”

Once again, Amne could not stop herself from being honest. She leaned closer and whispered, “I thought he would be stodgy. He’s not.”

“No? What is he?”

Amne found herself at a loss for words. “He’s … he’s great,” she said finally, thinking it was the lamest word she could possibly have come up with.

Sereine gazed into her lap and chuckled. “I never realized I needed to check numbers on the pre-voters,” she said. “Thank you, Amne. You’ve been very helpful to me tonight.”

Amne did not know what to say to that.

Then Sereine turned and whispered to her. “This will be our secret, which you cannot reveal to anyone.”

“What?” whispered Amne, aware of Mother’s craning neck on Sereine’s right.

“The Tonight Show made contact with me about a possible contract for him to guest three times a year to discuss political issues.” She nodded in the direction of the Senator, next to Papa in the seat in front of them. “He doesn’t even know yet. I have to feel them out on whether they’re prepared to offer him a good deal before I present it to him, and your information will help me immeasurably. So, thank you.”

Amne tried to suppress her smile, a glow growing in her chest. She had never imagined before what it would feel like, to sit with important people in important places. To think, she may have just helped Senator Palpatine win an important deal.

She felt the smile break through on her face. In the light of passing speeders, Sereine winked at her.

***

Amne felt as if she were floating. The Royal Opera House was dazzling, and so was every attendee. Dressed in the finest couture Alderaan had to offer; and yet only four people were presented to the Queen that night. Her parents, Senator Palpatine, and … Amne herself. Sereine Lumisol curtsied to Queen Breha, and then walked forward and they kissed each other’s cheeks as if they were old friends.

And then the Queen smiled at Amne and told her how pretty her dress was. Mother’s hand on her back reminded her to curtsy once more, and Amne heard the words, “Thank you, Your Majesty,” as if they came from someone else’s throat.

“Sheev, you didn’t tell me this was in Old Naboo,” said Sereine after they took their seats. “If it’s based on Alderaanian mythology, why is it in any dialect of Naboo at all?”

Senator Palpatine raised his voice slightly to include Amne in his explanation. “Because the composer was from Naboo, and married an Alderaanian—much like your father, here—and originally wrote this on our home planet, back in older days when more people used Old Naboo. I can explain the story to you. Sate and I use Old Naboo, when we’re out in public.”

“I did not know that,” Sereine said, and the Senator whispered here and there throughout the performance, explaining the story, since it was performed without subtitles. Far from being bored, Amne found the whole evening enchanting. Including her first ever visit to a grown-up cocktail bar, where Papa took their guests for drinks after the show. Amne was really too young to be allowed in, but the proprietor allowed it on her parents’ recognizance, and she sat, watching smartly dressed couples turn on the dance floor in silks of jet black, jeweled green and butter yellow, watching brilliantly colored drinks carried past.

In the speeder on the way home, Mother turned and beamed at her. “I think you may keep the necklace,” she said quietly.

“Thank you, Mother,” said Amne.

At home, she found herself too excited to sleep, too in love with her evening dress and high-heeled shoes with their jeweled buckles to take them off. She lingered in Papa’s study, gazing out of the window at the stars, feeling as if she were one of them.

When she finally mounted the stairs, she discovered she was not the only one who did not feel ready for sleep. Her parents were in the upstairs parlor in their nightclothes, seated in front of the fire.

“…No, no, no,” Papa was saying. “Everything’s come off perfectly, my dear. I don’t think the Queen’s own house staff could have done any better.”

“I’m pleased you think so,” came Mother’s voice over the crackling of the fire.

“But what concerns me is … the ambassadorships.” Papa’s voice fell so low Amne could hardly hear him. “Several remain open now, and Ambassadors Tyne and Crua are advanced in age. Do well here, and we could get one of them.”

That caught Amne’s attention. She sidled close to the doorway rather than letting her parents see her meander down the hallway to her bedroom.

“Amon, surely, you don’t think …”

“I do think. This is an important deal for Alderaan, and dear to the Queen’s and the Viceroy’s hearts. I put together that deal. For Bail Organa to bring in a pair of heavy-hitters like Palpatine and Lumisol … you know this is important. And for those who do the Royal House good service, there generally is a reward.”

“Ambassador and Lady Selrieen,” said Mother. “I can’t even imagine it. A grander home … the life of a grandee duchess … imagine what opportunities would open for our girls.”

“You must further your hospitality skills,” Papa said. “It would not hurt us a bit for you to volunteer in the right places. Refugee camps, especially, seem to interest the Viceroy considerably. I don’t have the time, but you do. Do well, and you may be of more use to the Viceroy than I am.”

A long pause; then Mother said, “Yes.”

“And another thing,” said Papa. “Strange that Palpatine remains unmarried. He does seem to appreciate the scenery and the fresh air here. I suppose we may invite him back to visit. From time to time.”

“Amon,” said Mother. “Our girls are too young—”

“Nonsense,” said Papa. “Give Amne a few years, and she will be ready to make an advantageous marriage. Before, it mattered little, but if I become Ambassador, that changes everything.”

Mother said nothing more.

***

**Notes on the chapter:

The speeches referred to are in What Lies Beneath, in its entirety on these boards.

From the beginning, Ish maintained that Palpatine and Amne met in a business deal such as this when Amne was fifteen and that there was a thirty-year age difference. When we looked at what age I had Palpatine at, and walked everything back to this moment and sketched out a timeline, it worked out. I had Amne at fifteen, and Palpatine was forty-five, and seven years later the ages she had for the opening chapter in Wife were already perfect ... some twenty years ago when she first wrote it. Maybe the first draft is older than that? It's on the boards here somewhere ... truncated because of the move. I'll have to check.

I keep hearing theme music for this but it's an outside link. It's on YouTube.

Next ... reposting Darth Ishtar's Wife of Deceit. It's a classic, y'all.

 

Omigosh, I nearly forgot--!!

I had this quick thought about a one-off and wrote it for Ish as a quick gift about a month before she died. Since it's on topic and the thing that happened next, I'll put it here.
I just sent it to Ish as "Fun scene." I guess if it had a title, it would be Selrieen Finally Proposes His Daughter to Palpatine.

Five years later ...

***

Interim Ambassador Amon Selrieen arose and kissed his wife on the cheek. “Wonderful dinner again, my dear. Will you excuse myself and our guest to the fireplace with some brandy?”

“Of course,” said Lady Selrieen, never anything but gracious.

“Come with me, Sheev,” invited Selrieen with a nod.

Palpatine rose and gave Lady Selrieen a short bow. “Delicious dinner, lovely company,” he said. “It is always a pleasure to come and stay under your roof.”

“Always a pleasure to have you.” Lady Selrieen cast a look at her husband, one Palpatine could not quite decipher.

The Selrieen fireplace was one of the most impressive Palpatine had seen, and he enjoyed a good fireplace. A game of firepath stood ready on the side table. A quiet servant, dressed in a bronze-colored cloak that blended in as well here as Sereine’s did against the gray walls in the Senate, stepped aside, having just poured two amber glasses of brandy.

“Thank you, Cloe,” said Selrieen. “That will be all.” He turned to Palpatine. “A game of firepath, Senator?”

Selrieen made an ideal opponent, challenging but still possible to beat. And these games always signaled he had something to talk about, conversations that were always useful as a back door into anything Organa might have afoot. Sereine was always most useful for that, but Sereine was out on campaign. As per usual.

Palpatine selected a glass of brandy and seated himself. “I believe it’s your turn to start?”

***

Two almost-checkmates later, Palpatine had satisfied himself that Selrieen knew nothing Organa that Sheev needed to know, and had told him the information on upcoming votes in the Senate it became clear the Ambassador was fishing for.

Selrieen made a stupid, yet recoverable, move, one Palpatine could see six moves ahead. Yet Selrieen wasn’t that bad a player. He was stalling for something. What?

The servant approached, offering the brandy decanter. “No more for me tonight,” Palpatine said affably, watching as Selrieen accepted another glass. What was he fortifying himself for tonight?

“So, Palpatine, two years left until the changing of the guard.” Selrieen made the recovery move Palpatine expected him to make. “Going to make a run for it?” He was referring, of course, to the moment when Supreme Chancellor Valorum would be compelled to step down and make way for another popular election. “If you’re as ambitious as Lumisol, you are. I know she wants you to run.”

“I believe many overestimate my chances,” said Palpatine smoothly, “as well as my ambition.”

Selrieen’s eyes glinted at him in the dying fire. “You’ll be nominated,” he said, “for certain.”

“That doesn’t mean I must accept.”

“But, if you did …” said Selrieen. “You’ve thought of the value of a wife, Sheev. For sheer electability, a beautiful wife by your side, carrying your child … invaluable.”

Palpatine's first thought was, Sereine. Sheev suppressed a laugh. There was no way that firecracker would acquiesce to a life as mistress to a married man. “An old man like me, Amon? Now, what would I do with a wife?”

Selrieen raised his brows. “But surely … an heir? You’re the last of the Palpatine line. You don’t want children?”

“Not particularly,” said Palpatine, moving a game piece.

Selrieen sat back. “I’m … surprised.” And perplexed, Palpatine thought, judging from the look on his face.

“Not everyone is meant to become a parent,” said Palpatine, sitting back himself to study the board.

“Are you … averse, to marriage? For some reason?” Selrieen was persistent, and Palpatine was becoming annoyed.

“Amon, are you asking me if I’m fey?” What was this, anyway? “I am a heterosexual.” Palpatine drained his last drop of brandy and set the glass down unnecessarily hard, hoping Selrieen might get the message.

“Heterosexual, or asexual?” Selrieen challenged him. Then, “Or is it really true that you’re with someone? That interview on the Tonight Show was so long ago. And I always assumed it was just a smoke screen, a question-deflector.”

Palpatine laced his fingers together over his full stomach and gave his host an even stare.

“But she won’t marry you.”

Not as long as Lumisol and Associates remained the premier political consulting firm in all the known Republic. Sereine could have made a skillful political wife, had she wished it. But neither of them wished it … especially Sereine.

Selrieen settled back into his own seat. “I do have an eligible daughter, Sheev, one who thinks very highly of you.”

“What?” slipped out before Palpatine could bite the insult back. Not the best night for two glasses of brandy. But then, who could have foreseen this? He certainly hadn’t. “Amon, I’m older than you are!”

“Actually, I’m two years older. But no one’s counting. Certainly not her mother and I.”

“I doubt very sincerely young Amne would have me. She’s quite pleasant when I ask her round to the Delegation, and I have noticed her at my last two lectures, but I’m quite sure she’s looking for a husband her own age.”

“Amne isn’t looking for a husband at all. Her mother and I are.” Now Selrieen stared him down.

“Excuse me?” This was becoming amusing; Palpatine rather fancied sharing a laugh about it with young Amne the next time the staff invited her to an Embassy function. Palpatine had had no idea he was being recruited as a possible stud animal. And with Selrieen’s assumption that he would take a run at the Box—Well, he didn’t aim very high, did he?

“Our marriage was arranged,” said Selrieen, “and my wife and I have been very happy. We have brought Amne up in the same tradition.”

“I see,” said Palpatine, missing another last drop of brandy to put a glass between himself and Selrieen’s expression—something between alert and hungry.

Palpatine’s mind ranged over the many contacts he knew Selrieen had; contacts that had only increased in number since the iridium affair. If he were to confront the Trade Federation directly, those contacts would prove useful.

But he was unwilling to sell himself in marriage for them. He had his freedom, and a comfortable arrangement with Sereine, whose expertise he needed until the Box was his. He did not need the encumbrance of a wife, and while a grandchild whose father owned the Box might suit Amon Selrieen well, it did not suit Sheev Palpatine.

Nor did it suit Lord Sidious.

Palpatine pushed himself away from the gaming table. “I wonder if you might excuse me for the evening, Amon,” he said, trying to sound as if the conversation had never veered into such bizarre territory. “I believe your sublime brandy is making me a bit bleary-eyed.”

Selrieen looked up at him as he stood. “Yes, of course,” he said. “Sleep well.”

***

Amon Selrieen emerged from the fresher and climbed into bed beside his wife.

Calah turned over to face her husband immediately. “How did it go?” she murmured.

“I think I shocked him. He excused himself rather quickly after the subject came up.”

Calah sighed dispiritedly. “I was afraid this would alienate him. What happened?”

Amon related the conversation to her and Calah sighed again. “Perhaps we could have approached him together. I think that would have been best. Now, it’s a chance lost.”

Selrieen turned on his side to face her. “No, I don’t think so,” he said earnestly. “Let him discuss it with Amne. Let them laugh over it. It will plant a seed … and seeds so often grow.”

"And mark my words, Calah. The next Supreme Chancellor will be our son-in-law."

Okay, next up is Wife of Deceit. No foolin'.

 

While it's still the weekend, here it is: Darth Ishtar's Wife of Deceit, book one, part one. Enjoy.

***

PROLOGUE

It was a peculiarity of procedure that they placed each prisoner in front of a mirror before what was commonly referred to as 'the exit interview.' She did not know what the origin of the tradition was—perhaps some aggrieved and indignant noblewoman had demanded to go out looking her best—but it made one thing perfectly clear. While every person in this stylized hell had entered the same way and would meet death with the same model of military-issue blaster, they chose their last moments individually upon looking at the skeleton in that mirror.

The exit interview was equal parts fairy tale and horror holo. The condemned whispered among themselves that they gave each person a single moment in which redemption was an option. In the midst of the gut-wrenching questionings and the periodic beatings that lasted an indeterminate amount of time before they tired of screams or silence, they would ask a single question that would make all the difference. One simply had to know how to answer.

In theory, that mirror forced every prisoner to decide if they would respond when they reached that moment. They would look on the sunken eyes, the hollowed cheeks and half-healed fractures and consider what they had done to earn this. They would stare into the hollows of their eye sockets, perhaps press a hand to the spot over their still-beating heart and decide whether or not they wanted to come back from this grave.

She did not know how many exit interviews would be conducted today. The prisoners would sometimes lose their fellows one at a time and would only notice that the person who met their gaze at roll call had disappeared. There were entire groups missing at other times and those who remained would wonder whether the prison commanders would replace those long gone. The alternative was unthinkable, but they all silently recognized the possibility that one day there would be no others to stand between them and death.

As it was, the walk from the cell to the interrogation was as solitary as the prisoners’ day-to-day confinement. No guards stood in that long corridor, but there did not have to be any. There was no discernible way out and there was no way of knowing if there was something worth living for if they did manage to escape.

At the end of the corridor, a single guard opened a door on silent, old-fashioned hinges, and she entered the utilitarian ‘fresher. The guard closed the door and stood just as silently, for once not making any move to restrain her or command her time. She had already withstood the morning’s chemical bath, so there was nothing left to clean. Several grooming implements, such as a straight-edge razor and a hairbrush were provided, but nothing in the way of concealing agents or eyepaints. Perhaps it was too much that in a prison with only seven women, they might consider their minority population.

Once upon a lifetime, she would have had all the energy she needed to summon her vanity or find dignity in what she could do here. It was unlikely they had anything that could restore her to some form of beauty. Her hair, once a dark coppery red, was instead brittle and dull. Even if she could part her cracked and ulcerated lips to smile, there would be no beauty in her decayed teeth. None of the lotions could cover the raw and peeling parts of her skin. Even her figure was brittle and shrunken, hunched inwards around the distension of her abdomen.

The best she could hope for was to be so silent the interrogators would quickly lose interest. Mercy was an unlikely possibility, but death would be the only cruel and welcome mercy they knew of.

Instead of seeking comfort in concealment, she stared into the mirror, looking for something familiar there. She continued looking even after she had found nothing and wondered if she would look just as haunted at the moment the appointed guard pulled the trigger as she did now.

One thing was absolutely certain: she would remain silent until then.

She turned sluggishly from her reflection and nodded at the guard with what was supposed to be an imperious expression rather than a slack look of resignation. He opened the door on the other side and let her pass.

She knew exactly what she could have expected under normal circumstances. She had been seized so many times upon entering this room that the brutality of the gesture would have been both commonplace and tiring. She had forgotten to struggle after the first few times. The guards would have thrown her into her place nonetheless, hoping that she would cower and beg for mercy in exchange for information. She had earned regular beatings for the simple fact that she was never sufficiently frightened for their tastes.

Today, she found her own way to the middle of the room and sat in the straight-backed chair that had caught her blood, sweat and tears on more than a few occasions. A pair of painful heartbeats later, the interrogator entered through the same door through which she had entered. Perhaps he had been curious as to what she had done to prepare herself for this.

She stared straight ahead, seeing nothing and knowing the first question. It was always the first question.

“Do you think he will come for you today?”

Book 1: In Love and Truth
Eighteen years previously

Chapter 1

It took a concerted effort to look this good. She had allowed ample time for the preparations. Even with all the time in the world, she could still sabotage her own efforts. With an unsteady hand at the lips or the eyelashes, she might suffer a setback and today was hardly a day when she could afford one of those.

She had fostered a keen sense of concentration over the years, but this was different. Her hand was trembling with adrenaline, her mother was torturing her hair into cooperative ringlets, and her younger sister was pestering her with questions.

“When was the last time you saw him, Mne?” Valeria demanded.

“A month after Father’s appointment,” Amne Selrieen reported dutifully as she considered the eyepaints available. “You recall. He came to visit at the Spring Equinox festival.”

“But that was forever ago!”

Amne supposed that, to an eleven-year-old, four months was “forever ago.”

“How do you know you still like him?” Valeria asked, sprawling on Amne’s bed with her chin propped on her elbows.

This was a variation of her original objection, voiced to her mother when she was a year younger and more naïve. Valeria could be forgiven for it, since she was half Amne’s age and of a much more whimsical temperament. Vali had also never heard Mother’s lecture on the reasons that courtship had nothing to do with love. Taia willing, Vali would never need to.

“I have high regard for him,” she said honestly, “and he is a very kind man.”

“And he’s proved himself worthy of any person’s respect,” Mother added.

“And you sound like you’re one of his political campaigns,” Vali muttered. “I don’t think you love him at all.”

This was usually when Mother stepped in to explain the ambiguous meaning of the word love or to change topics before Amne could decide that love mattered a great deal. Twenty-two years of being her mother’s daughter had broken her of the habit, but Mother still tended to worry.

Instead, Mother remained silent, clearly anticipating that Amne would recite the familiar lecture on her behalf. Amne put down her jar of eyepaint and turned her narrow chin as much as she could without disturbing Mother’s work.

“I care for him, and I believe in his principles,” she said quietly, reaching for her only sister’s hand. “I believe that it will become love someday.”

“Fine,” Vali sulked. “Marry him then.”

“Valeria!” Mother said sharply.

Valeria did not look apologetic at the sharp retort, but stood and yanked her hand out of her sister’s grasp. “I have to get changed,” she said petulantly.

“Yes, miya,” Mother sighed. “The ivory one that Ilse laid out for you.”

Vali escaped to her room a moment later, leaving Amne alone with her mother and a few dozen hair fastenings. Mother was still trying to pin her curls up into an elegant coif rather than letting them tumble loose as was Amne’s habit. She glanced up to admire her work and instead found Amne meeting her gaze with a slightly wry smile.

“Sometimes I miss the days when I was young enough to be your miya,” Amne confessed.

Mother finally smiled at that; the woman who had raised her was once more recognizable under the mask of tension she had worn for the last few years. She bent in mid-work, kissing the crown of Amne’s head gently as if she were miya—my little one. “As do I,” she murmured.

She straightened, going back to pinning as Amne dusted her freckled cheekbones with a light layer of powder. A change permeated the air, though. Mother was not as perfunctory and intense as she had been a few moments ago, and preened as if she were grooming a favorite doll.

“He’ll be pleased with you,” Mother said quietly. “No man could think otherwise of my daughter.”

“I hope so,” Amne said in like tones. “I believe he is a good man and do not wish to displease him.”

Mother’s hands, finally finished with the tedious work of styling her daughter’s hair, rested instead on the younger woman’s shoulders. “I may have spoken too strictly,” Mother apologized, meeting her gaze in the mirror again. “I wish you to marry him because he is a good man and he will give you a good life, but I also want you to find your own reasons for being happy at his side.”

“As you did with Father,” Amne observed.

“Yes,” Mother confirmed. “It was quite easy for me to fall in love with the man my father had chosen. I did not wish an arrangement for you, but …”

“I know,” Amne finished. “It’s not so much an arrangement as suggesting a mutually beneficial agreement.”

Mother grimaced in a heartfelt manner. “Yes, if you want to think like your merchant father,” she sniffed.

“Father means well, even if he sometimes thinks of me as a valuable collector’s item,” Amne teased.

“Well, you are that as well,” Mother mused.

Amne felt heat rise in her cheeks and she glanced down, busying herself with searching through her jewelry box for a suitable pair of earrings. Finally, she found teardrop pearl earrings that Father had given her upon graduating from the Academy at Aldera and settled them in her earlobes.

“Do you really think marriage will come up tonight?” she asked nervously.

“Not if you don’t want it to,” Mother assured her. “I’ll make sure of that.”

Mother stepped away without further comment, moving to the wardrobe where her gowns were kept. She returned in a moment with the one they had chosen by mutual consent the night before. A deep blue, it was elegant enough to befit her station, but short enough that the newly-minted Ambassador’s daughter would not make a fool of herself by tripping over a hem. It was the same color she had often seen on members of the Senate and Mother had suggested it because her suitor would admire how well she suited power.

Amne preferred the gown because it was simply designed and not too low-cut or tightly clinging to embarrass her. It was also made of a heavy velvet, perfect for the winter storms that had been assaulting Crevasse City for the last four days.

Amne carefully stepped into the dress and let Mother lace up the back. Her reflection in the mirror suggested that she was calm and composed and elegantly dressed. In truth, one out of three wasn’t bad.

“Perfect,” Mother murmured affectionately in her ear as she settled a strand of pearls in Amne’s hair.

Before Amne could respond, someone knocked on the door. She sighed, pulling back and smoothing the skirt of her dress. “Come in.”

Anselim, her father’s manservant, entered and bowed slightly. “Milady,” he addressed her, “Senator Palpatine is awaiting your convenience.”

***
Notes:

* I looked it up. The very first instance of this fic on these boards was September 6, 2007. Which, strangely enough, actually is eighteen years ago at the time of this posting.

* Once upon a time, the annual listing of fan favorites on the boards was an actual competition called the TFN Fan Fic Awards, and instead of just a short listing of the most popular in various categories, it was an actual awards with first, second, and third place with everyone on the boards voting. There was an annual awards night, with a dedicated thread that read like the Oscars. The year Wife of Deceit came out, Amne won as Best Original Character.

* Obviously something dramatic must have happened to cause such a change in Palpatine's attitude. We planned all this, too, and I will be covering it in chapters of Murder I have yet to write. Kind of sad because Ish was looking forward to the bits where Palpatine and Sereine break up and she gets close to Finis Valorum. Maybe she will still see it where she is.