Work Text:
The ringmaster was an affable man, vigorous despite his age. He had a way with the crowd, drawing their attention and raising their excitement effortlessly, for the perfect spectacle. Anakin had been drawn in by it, as so many had, but for him it had gone further. He had wanted nothing more than to be part of it, so much more thrilling than his ordinary life at the monastery. So Anakin had taken a chance, and Palpatine had been happy to take Anakin under his wing.
But behind Palpatine’s showmanship, a shadow dwelled where a heart should be. His performers were little more than props in his hands, and he felt they needed to be broken first. It was a brutal life under his ruthless control, and they saw little of the money made from their efforts.
Palpatine was as clever as he was wicked, however, and he manipulated the performers against one another, with promises of not just greater pay if they competed for his favor, but also the position to enforce his brand of “discipline” on the others.
And none were more successful at this cruel competition than Anakin, as he replaced his own heart with shadow too.