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1.
He was not lonely. Sith were never lonely, though they were always alone.
But Lord Tyranus still had enough of Master Dooku in him to remember how it felt to not be alone. Jedi could sometimes want for companionship. Of course for Jedi, emotions were weaknesses to be repressed and controlled. But they felt them all the same.
Tyranus was still Dooku. And so, though he was no longer a Jedi, there were moments when he could recall the warmth of camaraderie. That too was an illusion, he now knew.
The only soul one could ever truly know was one's own.
That was the way of Sith. The way of the self. The presence of others, though sometimes necessary, was never required.
2.
"What think you of young Qui-Gon Jinn?" Yoda asked.
It was not an idle question, Dooku knew. Traditionally, each Jedi desiring an apprentice would choose a Padawan of his or her own preference. But Yoda, who watched over the younglings practically from the moment they left the crèche, often had a specific pairing in mind.
He turned his attention to the floor, where pairs of Padawans were engaged in a sparring exercise. The boy in question bowed before his opponent. He was large for his age, but graceful all the same. As the match began, he met his opponent's initial thrust and countered with a strong lunge that nearly won the contest right there.
"He fights well," Dooku observed. He paused, extending his senses toward the combatants. "He seems particularly connected to the living Force. But I sense nothing special about him."
"Special, every Padawan is."
Yoda's tone was mild, but Dooku could hear the reprimand in his old mentor's words. "Of course, Master," he murmured, bowing his head slightly.
"A good match for you, Qui-Gon would be."
Dooku considered. There was some appeal in the notion of passing on his knowledge. It was true, he had not intended to take on an apprentice just yet, but Yoda's advice was never to be lightly disregarded.
When the match was finished -- and Qui-Gon the victor -- Yoda called him over. Up close, the boy had bright, solemn eyes and a nose that was a little too large for his face. He bowed respectfully before them.
Dooku laid a hand on the boy's shoulder, feeling the strength there, testing it. Perhaps this was how he would make his mark. Through his student.
"Alone you have been for too long, my old apprentice," Yoda murmured. "Strong you have become, but isolated. Share what you have learned, you should."
Dooku bent his head in rueful acknowledgment. "How is it that you always know my mind, Master?"
3.
When he was an infant, Dooku's parents brought him before a wise woman in one of the villages of their fief. The crone laid her hands on his head and tossed bones to read his future in the ancient ways, and her words convinced his parents to send their only child and heir off to learn the ways of the Force. None of this was known to him until much later, of course, for although the Jedi were told the entire story when his parents brought him to Coruscant, it was never repeated to him.
Many years later, when he had left the order and journeyed to his home world, Dooku found his family long dead but his estate intact. A loyal family retainer led him to the old woman, somehow still clinging to life, though she must now have been ancient. Dark eyes held him fast from her wizened face. He could sense the Force in her, although it was very weak. Enough to fool superstitious villagers into believing she possessed mystical powers.
Enough, perhaps, even to capture visions of the future, blurred and ever-changing though they might be.
"I have been waiting for you," she said when he stepped into her hut. "Waiting for the man who will shape the fate of many worlds."
"What do you see, old woman?" he asked, intrigued despite himself.
She reached out and clasped his arm, fingers whitening with the force of their grip. "You will bring about a great change. Through you, a new order will arise... a better order."
Dooku bent down, heedless of the dirt on the floor. "You have seen this?"
He fingers clenched on his arm. "It is... your destiny," she managed, voice breaking. "You will... bear it... alone."
After the crone was dead, it was a long time before he forgot the feel of those fingers on his skin or the look of those eyes.
He did not forget her words.
4.
Qui-Gon was an inquisitive child, and although Dooku encouraged curiosity, the boy had also developed a rather irritating habit of involving himself with every stray creature they encountered. This time, while on a brief rest during their journey across the plains of Kelibar, he had stumbled across a wounded kybuck foal, and was determined to nurse it back to health. The animal had a broken leg, and although Dooku was no healer, a quick glance at their guide's face confirmed what he had already guessed. The injury was serious and most likely fatal.
"All creatures die, Qui-Gon," Dooku reminded him, striving to maintain calm. "It is the will of the Force."
"But Master, does the living Force not lead us to those we should help?"
"The living Force is a guide to many paths, my very young Padawan. Our training and our instincts -– those are what determine which path we shall follow." The stubborn child looked like he might launch another protest, so Dooku held up a finger, stopping the words before they formed. "You must think logically, Qui-Gon. What is our mission?"
"To lend our aid to the succession process and prevent the outbreak of further hostilities between the two major political factions of Kelibar," the boy recited dutifully, his eyes nevertheless straying to the wounded animal.
Dooku shared a rueful glance with Ki-Adi-Mundi, who stood nearby, consulting with their guide. The other Jedi Master gave a small shrug, the movement imperceptible to all except one who knew him very well. He's your Padawan, his expression said. You deal with him.
"And how does the care of this animal contribute to the success of our mission?" Dooku asked, turning back to his student.
Qui-Gon's young face wore a look of determination, one that was becoming all too familiar to Dooku. "Master, if it does not adversely affect the outcome of our primary objective, can we not incorporate an additional goal to our mission statement?"
"In some cases, yes," Dooku conceded. Noting the look of hope in his young charge's face, he hastened to add, "In this case, however, a better use of your compassion would be putting the creature out of its misery, for we do not have the time to stop and attend to it. We must be in camp by nightfall."
He expected more of a protest, but Qui-Gon was a quick study and a practical boy, when all was said and done. Within a quarter hour they were moving once again, the foal's throat neatly slit as it lay behind them in the dust. Qui-Gon's expression was neutral, but Dooku could read the turmoil in his mind, and laid a hand on his shoulder.
"These are the choices a Jedi must make, Qui-Gon," he told him. "We must always weigh the greater good against that of the individual. It is not an easy thing to do. But it is necessary."
"Well said," Ki-Adi-Mundi murmured. The other Master had walked over to join them while their guide marked the path ahead. He stroked the end of his long moustache absently. "Your master has always had a keen grasp of necessity. The Force points us in the right direction, young one. But we must take responsibility for the choices we make alone."
Qui-Gon nodded very seriously, and did not look back once, but Dooku could feel the boy's shoulder trembling beneath his hand.
5.
At first, when he was with Sidious, Dooku could sense nothing but power. It radiated from the Sith Lord in intoxicating waves and he wondered how it was possible that the Jedi could not have noticed. But Sidious knew many things, least of which was the ability to mask his true self from those he did not wish to see.
The idea that the Sith still existed at all would have been unbelievable just one year before. Even now, knowing that his former apprentice had been cut down by a different Sith, it was a shock to see one in front of him. That Qui-Gon had been killed by Sidious' own apprentice seemed a strange sort of symmetry to Dooku.
"Great men are often bound together by the failures of lesser ones," Sidious told him. "Maul's mistakes have brought us to this crossroad, my friend. The mistakes of the Jedi –- their willful blindness in sending your former apprentice to his doom -- have led to this moment."
And Dooku thought of destiny, and the strange ways of the Force, and he found himself nodding.
6.
On the day Qui-Gon was raised to knighthood, Dooku was surprised to realize he did not feel the sense of satisfaction he had always imagined. Qui-Gon's braid was cut and he stood before the council a child no longer, but not yet a man. And Dooku was uneasy. He could not explain it, but a feeling of disquiet plagued him throughout the day.
"Troubles you, something does. Miss your apprentice already, do you?" The old master’s shrewd eyes missed nothing.
"He has not gone anywhere," Dooku replied.
"Here, Qui-Gon Jinn is. But your apprentice, he is not." Yoda nodded, tapping his cane absently on the chamber floor. "Hard it is, to let them go. Yet let them go we must."
Dooku frowned. "You misunderstand me. I don't wish to hold him back. Qui-Gon is ready for any challenge he should meet as a knight. I have seen to that. I have taught him everything I know."
The other Master said nothing. But Yoda's silence, as always, was more eloquent than his words.
"And yet," Dooku conceded after a moment, "there is something missing." He paused, feeling his way for the right words to capture his unease. The silence dragged on until finally he said, "He isn't finished yet. He is not the man that he could be."
Yoda grunted. "Finished, you say. And what means it to be finished? Think you I am done growing, learning now? Think you that you are? Or ever will be? Much to learn you still have, Dooku. Much indeed."
7.
"You were a great Jedi, Lord Tyranus," Sidious told him, "but of the ways of the Sith, you still have much to learn."
And Dooku replied, "I am honored that you would teach me, my master."
8.
When they met in the corridor outside the council chambers, it had been nearly five years since Dooku last saw Qui-Gon Jinn, and he was surprised at how glad he felt to be in the presence of his old student again.
"Master Dooku," Qui-Gon said, bowing his head slightly in greeting. "It is good to see you."
Perhaps other men would have welcomed one another warmly with exclamations and clasped arms, but Dooku had taught Qui-Gon the value of control. He could tell the other man was pleased with the encounter all the same, and allowed a small smile to slip across his face.
"My young friend, it has been far too long."
Qui-Gon had let his hair grow out a bit. It fell just below his shoulders now, tied back out of his face with a leather band. The beginnings of a beard graced his chin and cheeks, not quite disguising the still youthful features underneath.
These differences were superficial, Dooku knew, and quite unimportant. The real change was far more subtle. It was the confidence of his posture, the maturity in his expression. Most of all, it was how he stood before his former master and met his eyes as an equal. The newly raised knight Dooku left behind had been a man in name only. The Jedi standing before him now was a man in truth.
But what kind of man? That was the question. He had not been able to keep track of his former apprentice very well in that last few years, although every now and then there were reports of his missions –- and of his clashes with the council. Qui-Gon was known for his independence and strong opinions. Dooku found this reputation a strange source of pride.
"I've heard of your success with the trade negotiations on Tammuz-an," Qui-Gon said, falling into step beside him. "It is a great victory for the Republic."
Dooku frowned. "A great victory, and yet one I fear the Republic may not be ready to receive."
He felt Qui-Gon's eyes on him, quizzical. "Master?"
"Already the Senate is bogged down with debate over how to best exploit the treaty I have brokered. I fear my efforts may be wasted."
These were not thoughts he would voice to many others, but Qui-Gon had always been a clever study of politics, and Dooku knew his mind.
The younger man looked troubled. "The Senate can be unwieldy," he said carefully, after a moment. "But it will come to the right decision eventually."
"Eventually," Dooku echoed, letting the matter drop. "And now, my friend, tell me about yourself, and what you have been doing."
"I've been visiting the younglings," Qui-Gon said, a quick smile warming his face and revealing the tiny laugh lines that had grown up around his eyes. He had always been a solemn boy, Dooku recalled. But his mirth, once roused, was hard to contain and often infectious. "There is one in particular -- an Obi-Wan Kenobi -- that Master Yoda suggested to me. He's a fine boy. Strong in the Force, though a little tightly wound, from what I can see."
His tone held confidence, but Dooku caught the quick searching glance sent in his direction. He smiled inwardly. It was somewhat gratifying that his approval was still desired.
"Yoda excels at matchmaking," he said. "The Kenobi boy will be very fortunate indeed, should you select him. You will make a fine teacher, Qui-Gon."
Qui-Gon's smile widened. "I have had a very fine example."
8.
"Kenobi," Asajj Ventress spit the name out as if it was a curse. Perhaps it was, Dooku reflected, watching her stride back and forth in front of the view screen. "I nearly had him on Ord Cestus. I should have had him. He should be dead!"
He turned his attention to the footage that had set off this latest tirade. The screen before them showed images of the Republic's newest heroes, Skywalker and Kenobi, caught on film doing battle with a platoon of battle droids on Ord Mantell. The recording captured by security cameras in the factory was of poor quality, but the skill of the two combatants was obvious, as was their familiarity with one another.
A shame, really, Dooku reflected, as the picture changed to one of the duo accepting thanks from the local Parliament for routing the invading Separatist Forces. That such talent must inevitably be wasted was one of the many gnawing injustices that plagued him.
"Calm yourself," Dooku commanded when he could watch her pace no more. "Kenobi's days are numbered. He is part of a dying breed, a Jedi to the core. He will not survive the new order."
Ventress stilled her movement obediently, but he could read the internal unrest in her eyes, in the way she stood as if poised for a fight to the death at that very moment. So full of fire. His lips curled. It was a wasted energy, this hatred of hers. She did not focus it properly and as a result, it was burning her up inside. Ventress would never be a true Sith.
His eyes returned to the view screen, to Obi-Wan Kenobi. There was a warrior worthy of the Sith. Worthy of the gift of his knowledge. With Kenobi at his side, he could overthrow Sidious –- when the time was right, of course –- and take his place as the rightful ruler of the galaxy. A pity the man must die to suit his master's needs.
It seemed all of Dooku's line shared that particular destiny.
He'd been thinking more and more of Qui-Gon Jinn of late. Another wasted potential. His old apprentice would have made a fine Sith Lord. He had possessed the passion and the desire. All Qui-Gon had lacked was the perspective. Dooku knew he could have given that to him, had he been given the chance. If that animal, Maul, had not ruined the opportunity.
Those were the kind of mistakes made when one sent a beast to do a gentleman's work. Ventress was little more than an animal herself, though she possessed a cunning that he found worrisome at times. She would have to be dealt with eventually. Perhaps even sooner than he had originally planned.
If only... he stopped the thought before it could fully form. Regrets were for the weak. It was too late now to correct the damage. Plans were in place. Qui-Gon Jinn could have been an ally worthy of trust –- as much as one Sith could ever trust another -– but he was long dead. Kenobi would soon follow.
That left Skywalker.
The boy was fond of his master, that much was clear. Perhaps Sidious was right, and the death of Kenobi would break him. Such bonds were a weakness, Dooku knew. Witness his own thoughts, so lately turned to a man long dead and buried.
No, Skywalker was their last hope. And Dooku's last chance to overthrow his own master. He smiled at the thought, reaching up to turn the view screen off.
When the time was right, of course.
9.
There was only one brief moment, as Anakin Skywalker's blades met before his throat, when Dooku of Serenno understood how deeply he had miscalculated.
He was beaten and betrayed. And for the first time, Dooku felt every one of his many years. Through his shock and the sudden, unfamiliar bite of fear, he met the cold, cruel eyes of his master, and the words of the crone came to him unbidden.
Shaper of worlds. Bringer of a new order.
This wasn't how it was supposed to be. It wasn't the ending he had been promised. The unfairness of it all was stunning.
He read the decision in Skywalker's eyes a split-second before intention became motion, leaving just enough time for him to grasp the inevitable. He would die, here and now, exactly as he had lived –- utterly and completely alone.
And then the blades came together, and Dooku finally met his destiny.
End.