Chapter Text
“No I won’t!” Maul insisted.
At which point Palpatine sighed for the umpteenth time and wished, quite futilely, that having to raise a small Zabrak was not among his many intertwined lives. His tiny apprentice was refusing to eat any of the soup placed for him, despite having declared it reasonably tasty when offered a sample. Unfortunately for Darth Sidious, it would seem that the vital Sithly skills he had begun to instill in his apprentice already were also very useful for trying to avoid eating one’s dinner.
“You must eat it.” he stated, in a tone which, before most beings, would have brooked no disagreement. Maul, alas, was not intimidated, and instead scratched at one of his horns (which it seemed was a bad habit for young Zabraks to indulge in and could result in infection of the broken skin. He should make a mental note to possibly apply something to the irritated area to discourage Maul from scratching it...)
“No. It’s yuck.” Maul declared.
“But you need to consume vitamins,” he remarked and instantly thought better of the automatic suggestion stemming from some cobwebbed corner of his mind that had inadvertently absorbed the odd paternalism... maternalism. Curse his grave, Cosinga had never been the least concerned about nurturing him.
“You don’t have to eat it,” Maul tried to point out, though this was patently--well, it at least wasn’t completely true. There was no requirement that Palpatine should consume the soup, and he was meant to attend one of the innumerable state banquets in about an hour, but certainly he was willing to eat it.
“But you need to.”
“No!” he exclaimed once more and moved to overturn the soup, but Sidious caught his arms in the Force and immobilized them.
He was not especially pleased the next instant, despite the talent it showed, when Maul retaliated by using the Force to strike the bowl of soup and overturn it, splashing the broth and vegetables into the air and leaving Senator Palpatine of Naboo (who fortunately was not yet dressed for his next state occasion) with a lima bean in his hair and assorted bits of corn and potato scattered over his chest.
“Then perhaps you won’t get anything for supper.” Sidious proposed with dangerous affected calm, quite concealing his seething irritation at getting covered in soup and bits of vegetable.
Maul scowled, tugged free of the Force grip, and ran off to who knew where without replying.
Palpatine, abandoning his small charge for the moment, walked into the fresher and irritably removed his shirt so as to take the shower he had been hoping to postpone slightly, contemplating strategies for better feeding his apprentice.