Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

1. Plagueis and Sideous

"I did this with my Master, you know," Plagueis remarked offhandedly.

"Oh," Sideous acknowledged, with minimal interest. "However tactless it seems to say so, honestly, I thought you'd be afraid to do this."

"No--no, not at all. But Tenebrous was enormously impractical about it. Included a great deal of unnecessary paraphernalia."

"Then this--this, is all that's necessary?"

"Oh yes. Minimal equipment. Now, are you ready, FourDee?"

2. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon

"Are you certain we should be doing this, Master?" Obi-Wan asked a little warily.

The older man nodded emphatically. "Honestly it's rather fun, Padawan."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. Now please approach the circle, being careful not to scuff it with your feet--ah, right there. Perfect."

"Master, why must I stand here in particular? What advantage is served by my doing this?"

"Only to ensure that your first experience with this goes smoothly, Padawan."

3. Dooku and Yoda

"All this is necessary, then?" the Padawan asked, raising an elegant eyebrow.

"Necessary it is," Yoda answered, concentrating on his preparations rather than Dooku's question.

"Have you done this often, Master?"

"Only when the duty fell to the Order to do it."

"Will he be angry, do you think?"

"Know the will of the Force you do not." Yoda stated, and that was the end of it.

4. Maul and Sideous

"Why?" the taciturn Zabrak asked.

"I've entertained the question myself many a time. But in this particular case it only seems sensible." Sideous allowed, surveying the room and gripping the chalk.

"Is this what you were doing with those rodents, Master?"

Sideous was slightly taken aback at this question and examined him for a moment before commenting "I'm certain I don't want to know how you identified or otherwise associated the blood with that."

5. Luke and Leia

"What are we doing, Luke, and why precisely are we doing it?"

"I'm not certain, exactly, but it's clearly a time-honored ritual of some importance. And I can feel that we need to do it."

"I'm still not sure about it. Shouldn't we ask Han if he wants to be here?"

"Somehow I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Really? Why?"

"I think we need to have only Force sensitives around."

"I'm not a Jedi, Luke."

"Yeah, but somehow I think the point of this stuff is lost if you aren't, like you wouldn't be able to see it or something."

6. Vader and Tarkin

"I don't believe in this," were the first words out of the Grand Moff's mouth.

"Belief will not be required," Vader said dismissively, then amended, "Though you would do well not to question the power of the Force. All I need is for you to hold these things."

"What is this?"

"It is entirely necessary for the ritual."

"Superstitious claptrap," Tarkin muttered.

"I would not repeat that around him."

"Who do you mean, Vader?"

"You will soon see."

7. Tenebrous and Plagueis

"This is awfully... melodramatic," the Muun remarked conversationally as the pair descended the stairs.

"The ritual is of considerable importance, Plagueis," the Bith instructed in a tone intended to inspire reverence. The effect was rather wasted on Tenebrous's apprentice.

"Still, I think something could be said for subtlety."

"Something could, but the speaker would be a fool."

Plagueis simpered at the implicit insult and settled instead for examining the items. He failed to keep silent in his surprise. "These are not even real, Master."

"Do you think that makes a difference?" the Bith said condescendingly.

"Well, I wouldn't appreciate the gesture if it were me," he muttered.

"Speak clearly or remain silent," Tenebrous reprimanded.

"What is it we gain from this?"

"I need not answer that question. If you cannot find the answer yourself, you are entirely unworthy."

8. Mustrum/Esme

"How do you think this will be helpful?" the witch demanded, spearing her hair with another pin.

"It only seems logical?" Mustrum replied, slightly tongue-tied in the presence of Esme, especially when she was fixing her hair. He had to remind himself that this was Esme Weatherwax, who, even if she was a woman and a witch, was a long time acquaintance of his.

"You earnestly assume that he'll know what's going on?"

"It usually works. And it's on the list of tried and true wizardly solutions for eldritch happenings like this."

"Ah-ha. Wizardly. How often are these things successful?"

"Not very often," he admitted, and stopped, waiting for her to suggest something else.

"Well, go on then. We haven't got all day."

"But you said--"

"I don't know what else to do just now, Mustrum, and I ain't so fond of admitting that, but it's true."

Chapter Text

6. Vader and Tarkin

The Grand Moff turned ashen, his mind unwilling to accept the evidence of his eyes as real. There couldn't be a tall skeleton in a black robe on the Death Star. Robed and upright, free-standing skeletons simply did not appear out of thin air. But there it was. And it, or perhaps he--stood there expectantly, as if he wanted a reply. He was holding a teacake.

Tarkin blinked. Yes, it had to just be a weird--tall--robed human. The skeleton was just his imagination: had he been watching too many horror vids? Not that he... did that? But humans didn't just appear in a chalked circle after Darth Vader had performed some arcane Sith rite, either.

EXCUSE ME. YOU'VE INTERRUPTED MY TEA WITH MRS. CAKE, WHO IS PRECOGNITIVE AND HAS EXCELLENT FIGGINS. I EXPECTED YOU TO ANSWER THE QUESTION I WAS ABOUT TO ASK.

The words seemed to have bypassed his ears entirely and gone directly to his brain.

"Silence, specter!" Vader commanded menacingly, though if Tarkin trusted his instincts, there was a note of uncertainty in the Sith's voice, as if even he, with his command of some strange magic and his second-to-only-the-Emperor rank, did not entirely expect the ...demon? to obey. But Wilhuff didn't believe in demons. He didn't really believe in mystic Sith rites that could make strange figures--strange human yes, human figures--appear from out of nowhere on a starship either, though. Even so he couldn't deny that it had happened.

I AM NOT A SPECTER. I AM DEATH. The figure seemed peeved, somehow, if a--it wasn't a skeleton, though! Couldn't be.--such a strange not-voice could do so.

"Yield to me your knowledge." Vader demanded of the skeleton.

I AM DEATH. he repeated. THE GRIM REAPER? THE ANTHROPOMORPHIC PERSONIFICATION OF THE END OF LIFE? I AM HARDLY OMNISCIENT.

Vader, the sting half-taken out of his words by his increasing doubt, appealed, "My Master, Sideous, said you would have an explanation."

DID HE? PECULIAR OF HIM. I ALWAYS GOT THE IMPRESSION HE LIKED ME BETTER THAN THAT. HIS MASTER USED TO BE DOWNRIGHT FOND OF ME, YOU KNOW. He somehow seemed rueful about this matter. HE, AT LEAST, REALIZED THAT I DON'T KILL PEOPLE. I WOULD HAVE LIKED HIM, IF ONLY HE DIDN'T KEEP CREATING SUCH BIZARRE MESSES WITH OTHER PEOPLE'S LIVES.

"You--" for once, the Sith seemed utterly lost for words. After an awkward pause, he finally opted for "His Master?"

DID YOU IMAGINE THAT HE DID NOT HAVE A MASTER? Death pronounced reproachfully, inasmuch as phrases that never bothered to become sound waves could be said to be pronounced. SOMETIMES YOU HUMANS ARE CURIOUSLY UNTHINKING ABOUT THE IMPLICATIONS OF YOUR NATURE. BUT YES, PLAGUEIS AND SIDEOUS CONSIDERED THE FORMER THE LATTER'S MASTER.

"Plagueis!?" Vader somehow managed to splutter the exclaimed question, in defiance of all restrictions on his voice and breathing by the respirator. "Plagueis the Wise?"

I DO NOT KNOW. The skeleton seemed, implausibly, to sigh. IT IS NOT MY BUSINESS WHAT BEINGS IN YOUR GALAXY CHOOSE TO NAME THEMSELVES.

"Wait--" the Sith said, a note of desperate hoarseness somehow creeping into his otherwise perpetually even voice, "if you are--do you know how to cheat death, then?"

This question was not well received in the least by Death, as, Tarkin reflected, Vader might have known. The Moff knew nothing about and did not concern himself with the notion of the Emperor's teacher (for one thing, doing so was likely to be bad for his health), but it seemed ill-considered, not to mention ill-mannered, to talk of cheating death in front of the anthro--anthropom--anthropomorphic personification of the concept, even if, by its/his own admission, he didn't kill people.

He quickly quashed that thought. This sort of fantastic logic could surely lead to lunacy, and Tarkin most certainly didn't want to be confined for a failure of mental health. Among other reasons, such a personal fault would lead directly to his being forced to cede his position to someone else, possibly Vader or his appointee, and there was no love lost between the two ...men.

I ALREADY MENTIONED THAT I DO NOT KILL PEOPLE. Death noted impatiently and with considerable resentment. NO, OF COURSE I DO NOT KNOW HOW TO CHEAT MYSELF. WHAT IS IT THAT YOU WANTED FROM ME?

It took Vader several long and, on Tarkin's part, agonizing moments to compose an answer to this. For all that Death professed not to kill people, the situation was still unsettling, and Vader himself was certainly dangerous enough. What was to stop him turning on Tarkin if he grew angry enough at the skeleton and attacking it proved futile, as it seemed likely to do?

Finally, the Sith replied, "I need to know if O-if any Jedi still live."

WHY DO YOU WANT TO KNOW THAT? The words suggested that the skeleton was muttering. Abruptly he seemed to decide on an answer. YES. YES, THERE ARE STILL A FEW JEDI LIVING. HOWEVER AT THIS TIME THEY ARE NOT FATED TO DIE BY YOUR HAND. IS THAT THE ONLY QUESTION YOU HAVE FOR ME?

Vader, by all appearances, was taken aback at this, for all that being so seemed a ridiculous notion for such an imposing figure. Death seemed to consider his silence an answer in the affirmative.

VERY WELL THEN. DO DISMISS ME.

Still with the air of absent consideration that had shrouded him since the mention of this Plagueis, Vader waved a--was it really trembling?--hand as if in dismissal. The robed skeleton lingered for a moment before, by Tarkin's best estimation, deciding that this was as much of a proper dismissal as he was going to get, and popping back out of existence.

The Grand Moff stared at the chalked circle where Death--Death! had just been standing for a minute, sixty seconds that seemed to stretch into a minor eternity, and abruptly decided that none of this could possibly have been real. There was nothing for it but to dismiss this nonsensical vision. Skeletons with communicative capacity simply did not appear on spaceships, even at a Sith's summons.

"You may go, Tarkin," Vader instructed, also staring off into the room, though his gaze was fixed on nothing in particular.

The Grand Moff exited the dim chamber and willed the memories of the past few minutes out of his head, a skill that was frequently handy if not vital for a high ranking Imperial.

Upon rounding a corner, he bumped into Admiral Motti, quite literally, if fortunately with no injury to either party. Once they had righted themselves, they stood together there for a moment, trying to brush imaginary dirt and realer wrinkles from their usually immaculate uniforms.

"Admiral," Tarkin asked Motti, not entirely certain why the question was in his head, "what's a figgin?"

"I don't know," Motti answered warily. "I have duties to attend to, and insufficient time for inane questions. If I may be excused?"

Wilhuff nodded absently, trying to dismiss the pressing notion that this scenario recalled part of his recent encounter with Vader. The two officers strode off in opposite directions, Tarkin hurrying to some destination purposefully made-up to have the excuse of hurrying somewhere, even though Vader was the only one he answered to aboard the ship.