The Fallen One
by AK
For Alaric, who was persistent, and for Wolfine, who invariably cheers me up.
The first thing a Master feels upon the destruction of an apprentice is a distinctive flare of rage; it passes almost immediately into disbelieving irritation. I am experiencing this particular emotional state now.
Maul, Maul. I can only mentally shake my head at you. I want to lecture you, to punish you. So many years in training, only to be struck down like this, and by such a slip of a warrior, too. Victory should have been yours. He is barely a Jedi at all...though I do sense some destiny for him in the ripples of the Force.
I stare carefully at the pyre before me, the face I wear a perfect mask of solemn respect. As always, the contempt that roils through my being is tightly self-contained. Nothing escapes the guise I have chosen, and the company does not daunt me; the weak Jedi around me are of no concern.
They suspect nothing; they will continue to suspect nothing until it is already too late. They are fools, and events have already been set in motion. I am the Chancellor now, and all is proceeding as I have foreseen.
Except for you. Except for your death. I did not foresee it; perhaps that is why it disturbs me so.
You need no punishment now.
I silently absorb the emotion that is soaking the room. The apprentice's despair, the boy's sorrow and fear. But Obi-Wan Kenobi, he is a white-hot nova of repressed feelings. He will miss his Master--I can taste the dull shock, horror and pain behind his shields...his emotions are delectable. I shift my eyes sideways for a moment, towards the small, wizened old being on the other side of the room. Even he will no doubt grieve for his fallen apprentice. Even young Queen Amidala grew to care for him, in the short time she knew him. They will all mourn for him.
The emotions make them weak, I know this. And yet...and yet I cannot deny a twinge of something in myself. A spark that burns for you. So loyal, you were, my apprentice, and so respectful. Where to find another so loyal as you were?
Perhaps the one who struck you down would make a good apprentice. Kenobi, the freshly minted Jedi Knight. He is strong in the Force, that is certain. But mentally, I linger more over Anakin Skywalker, a vision of the future passing before my eyes. The boy...he is stronger.
If the prophecy is true, the Chosen One would make an excellent apprentice...but for a moment, I feel a stirring of doubt.
You will not be so easily replaced.
Watching the fool's body burn, I cannot help but think of your last seconds. The intensity of your pain, and your blazing fury...but they have been forever silenced, and I regret the waste. Yes...it is regret I feel. Never again will I look on your obedient face, never again hear your soft voice or feel the razored edge of your hatred. Never again touch those stunted horns with my fingertips when you kneel before me, never feel your hands on me, your mouth on me...
I glance down at my clasped hands, these false hands. I felt it when you went, of course. A tiny, quiet sigh escapes this mouth.
Goodbye, my apprentice. I do regret the waste.