Chapter Text
"Tell Qui-Gon I'm sorry for all of it, master." Count Dooku Serenno stood on the ramp of his solar sail. He was about to escape, about to run again. Anakin had failed, he had failed his master and the order, and they wouldn't be able to prevent galactic war. He could barely move, barely see what was going on through the pain, but the force told him everything. Even as his arms and legs burned with the lightsaber wounds Dooku had given him, he could feel the force surrounding the two old masters.
"Tell him yourself you should, my old Padawan," Yoda countered, "not too late it is. Know your kindness and idealism we all do. Stop this we still can!"
"I'm sorry master," Dooku replied, backing away, "it's too late. I can't stop it, no one can. I failed to stop the Sith, I failed to fix things. I'm sorry for every single Jedi who died, I'm sorry for every single death that'll come. I'm sorry for all of it."
"Stop the Sith we can, together," Yoda pleaded, "talk we should, we must! This madness we can still stop!"
"I will leave you with one piece of advice," Dooku said, "do not trust the republic, do not trust the senate or the chancellor. They will fail you, but the Jedi cannot fail! You cannot fail!"
"Mean what you do?" Yoda asked, "Please wait, Dooku, please stay! Always a Jedi at heart you were, even after you left!"
"I am so sorry, master," Dooku said one last time, and with that he turned and entered his ship. It shot out of the launch tube, and Dooku was gone, and with that the chance to swiftly end the separatist threat.
Anakin sensed the war going on outside, Geonosians and their droids fighting the clone army Yoda had brought to the planet. He'd brought them to save Anakin and his master, but he couldn't help but feel a deep unease, penetrating his mind even through the pain he felt shooting through his brain.
It was going to be war.
"Obi-Wan, Anakin, alright you are?" Yoda summoned his walking stick through the force and hurried over to where they laid, "Injured you are? Help I brought."
"Been better, master," Obi-Wan groaned, "Dooku is still better than us with his blade. At least he had the courtesy to only give light disabling injuries, rather than... Well cutting off arms or legs. He certainly had the chance." Anakin felt his face burn at that comment. He'd seen it too, how Dooku had every opportunity to disarm him in the painfully literal sense, but the old master had spared him, leaving him only a burn for his trouble. Still painful, still lost him his lightsaber, but he still spared him worse.
"Master, is Padmé... Is senator Amidala alright?" Anakin asked, trying and failing to push himself up, "Is she safe?" He'd failed his one task, he'd failed so horribly it'd come to war. She'd been the one who decided to go to Geonosis, sure, but he was supposed to protect her, and he'd failed. She'd even fallen out of one of those gunships and he couldn't do a thing.
"Safe she is, Anakin," Yoda said, helping him into a sitting position, "so diligent you are, but finished your task you have. Done well you have."
"I failed," Anakin sputtered, "I didn't protect her. We should never have come here but-"
"Quite stubborn senator Amidala is," Yoda jovially said, "convinced you to help, did she not? Always helping the both of you are." He turned to Obi-Wan and helped him sit as well, "Great trouble today's events are, but repair things we can. We must."
Obi-Wan sighed. "Master... Today... How many Jedi died? What do we do next?"
"First rest you must," Yoda replied, "yes, rest. Tomorrow will come in time. The consequences we will deal with in time."
Anakin did not return to Coruscant with the other Jedi. While Yoda had said his mission was done, it was not for Anakin. Like a good bodyguard, he would escort Padmé back to Naboo before he'd return to the temple, but there was another reason. He hadn't told his master the real reason. He hadn't told anyone he'd fallen in love with Padmé.
He made himself a failure of a Jedi. Anakin was deeply, dreadfully aware of all the rules he was breaking. No attachments, no relations, no love. They were encouraged to love, he'd told Padmé the same, but he was deeply aware they did not mean like that. All Jedi were supposed to have some nebulous love for the force and the galaxy, but to fall in love... It was forbidden.
Forbidden or not, those few precious days on Naboo were the best days of Anakin's life. It was a dumb thing, a whim, an impulse he couldn't deny. He'd asked Padmé to marry him, right there on her ship, and at the lake house they shared a wonderful dream. For those few days, the woes of the galaxy seemed so far away, yet Anakin was a Jedi and Padmé a senator. Soon they would take up their duties again, separate, cold and distant in public, hoping to sneak soft moments of love out of view of others. They would make the most of it, of those few sweet days in love.
Iskat Akaris was on the verge of breaking, if not past it. She put one foot before the other, taking each step after step after master Klefan, after the Jedi who had survived. Tualon and his master walked ahead of her, Onielle limped next to her master, yet Iskat was alone. The bloodshed was over, and Iskat was going home, yet it didn't feel like that. Some part of her brain was aware she was on a cruiser, headed back to Coruscant, but all the sounds of activity and life turned into nothing but noise. She couldn't focus. She couldn't think. She couldn't do anything but replay the death of her master in her mind.
When she reached the bunk that'd been assigned to her, Iskat sat down on the thin mattress and tried to clear her mind. As always, she failed. She gripped the blue stone hanging around her neck, pulling the string taut as she tried not to burst into tears.
Sember was gone.
Her master had died. Sember was gone forever and everything master Klefan could say was 'rejoice'. Rejoice, for she is one with the force. Rejoice, for Sember wouldn't want you to mourn. Rejoice, for to feel, to care, to love is against the tenets of the order.
Iskat curled up on herself, turning away from the room as tears unwillingly leaked from her eyes. Sember should've been in the bunk below her, not dead in the stands of a radiation-blasted arena. Sember should've been offering words of comfort and peace, not saying her last words to someone who wasn't there. Sember should've still been alive, not forever gone.
Even as she tried her breathing exercises, even as she tried to clear her mind, even as she tried to do something, anything, she couldn't do anything but cry. Perhaps if she'd been a better Jedi she would be able to deal with it, but she was always just flawed. Broken.
When they returned to the temple, things were no different. Those emotions roiling through her mind would never die, no matter how hard she tried, no matter how much she struggled. She could never be rid of them.
As he led her back into the temple, Klefan's hand on her shoulder felt not reassuring, but like a cage. Don't mourn. Don't feel. Don't think. She'd tried asking him what now, what next? How should she continue without her master? But his words were as empty as ever. Nothing but hollow platitudes, sayings, commandments. Just keep on going as if nothing happened... Yet how was she supposed to without Sember?
She cleaned off the blood that stained her face and robes, she tried again to meditate, but nothing filled that gaping hole in her hearts. And yet in that cruel hole echoed a strange thought. Her shoulders were lighter. How could her shoulders be lighter when her master was gone? Yet her expectations, her demands were gone too. No one would expect anything from Iskat Akaris. Master Klefan certainly didn't. If not for Sember she'd have had no place in the order at all, but now perhaps... Now perhaps something different would come, something new. The thought horrified her. It was a disgusting thought, she owed Sember everything, how could she think that? Perhaps it was that feeling, that draw she'd felt on Geonosis, that state of pure transcendence as she killed. She was broken, a failure of a Jedi, perhaps that thought was another sign of it. She wouldn't be surprised if no master would take her on now Sember died.
The feelings knotting up her heart intensified when she found the lightsaber Sember had hidden, the golden blade that called to her hand. In the days that followed the battle of Geonosis, she was supposed to clear out Sember's things and return it all to the order, but that lightsaber... It felt like it was made for her, it felt right, and yet when she was supposed to hand it over like all Sember's other things, the lightsaber she kept. She stole it, hid it, listened to its call like a mother's lullaby.
"Let this war destroy us we cannot!" Yoda thumped his walking stick on the council floor. Not a day had past since that great tragedy, but they needed to act. They just needed to decide how. He cast his gaze across each of the members of the Jedi council, each of them a wise and respected master, each of them a friend.
"Let this war destroy us we cannot," he repeated, his voice calm and steady, "for centuries I have seen us move away from our traditions and our virtues. Where are our temples? Where are our robes of gold and white? Grown distant from the galaxy we have, grown isolated and arrogant. Action we must take in light of this conflict, yes, but as Jedi. As one with the force."
"The senate has assigned the Jedi as generals of this new grand army," Ki-Adi Mundi calmly said, "They require us to lead."
"And slaves of the senate are we?" Yoda jabbed his walking stick at him, "No! Servants of the force we are, not generals. Many we lost on Geonosis, and grateful we are for the republic's aid, but their slaves we are not."
"What do you suggest?" Mace Windu asked.
Yoda took a deep breath. "A plot to destroy us I sense. A grave danger this war poses, to us and to the galaxy. Remain steadfast we must, stay true to our values and our traditions we must."
"You reject the senate's request to lead?" Mundi asked.
"That I do," Yoda replied, "guide? Yes. Lead? No. In this war neutral we must be. No bandits or pirates the separatists are, purely a political conflict this is. Stand with the people of the galaxy we must, both separatist and republic. Help them we must, to avert the damage a war would cause."
"We have legal obligations," Mundi objected, "the senate has declared we are to lead the army. If we do not, the fate of the order could be at stake."
"We are not slaves," Plo Koon interjected, "the senate can request of us, not order us to follow those requests. If this council decides the Jedi will not serve as generals, then we will not, and I believe we should not enter this war."
"I agree that the Jedi are not to be generals," Qui-Gon Jinn added, "political differences must be debated in the senate, and not by Jedi. We guide and facilitate as the force requires, but the senators are who resolve these differences. If they refuse to do so and choose violence instead, we must protect the galaxy from that violence."
"Do you intend for the Jedi to force the republic and separatists to negotiate?" Mace asked.
"We must facilitate," Qui-Gon answered, "and meanwhile bring relief to those who are suffering."
"We should contact the wealthy and charitable on both sides," Yaddle added, "those who wish to aid in preventing this suffering. With their help our reach will increase."
"Reopen our temples we should," Yoda continued, "from Tenoo to Takodana, needed once again our outposts are. Though fewer in number we are than centuries ago, never more needed the Jedi are. Bring light to the galaxy we must, where in darkness war threatens to shroud it."
"I sense great turmoil in you, master," Qui-Gon said as their gathering finished and the council members each left to go their separate ways, to prepare for what was to come. He crossed his one remaining arm in front of him and grabbed his empty sleeve the way he so often did since he lost his arm and his sight on Naboo. "Did Dooku say anything on Geonosis?"
Yoda's ears drooped. "Yes, many things, grave things he said. Involved in this war the Sith are, and against the republic and the chancellor he warned. Not to be trusted they are, yet see why this would be I do not. Could they have infiltrated the republic?"
With blind eyes, Qui-Gon stared out over the federal district where the temple was located, in the direction of the senate building. The sight from the council spire was impressive, yet Yoda couldn't help but feel distant from the force there, on Coruscant. The planet was alive with people, with love and life, but steeped in turmoil and misery as well. That was the kind of planet the capital of the republic was.
"Dooku would be right to say the republic is failing," Qui-Gon mused, "the trade federation never faced consequences for what happened on Naboo, nor are consequences a thing for any of the other corporations that wormed their way into the senate." He sighed, and his eyebrows furrowed above his blindfold, "Yet they are the backbone and the purse of the separatist alliance. There are criticisms to be made to all."
"Merely opportunists they are," Yoda replied, "always seeking to create more wealth... If only their logistical networks and trade routes we could use. A strong ally they would be if to help prevent suffering they would."
"Instead they are a great source of it," Qui-Gon hummed, "the galaxy suffers when profits are placed before empathy."
The world was in chaos. The force was full of death and horror, and across its great web pulsed laments of fear and loss like blood from a torn artery, wails of pain and mourning. Hundreds of people had died and thousands of Jedi mourned their loss.
Deep in the Jedi temple, in an ancient dormitory abandoned by everyone but her, lived a Jedi youngling. That youngling was Lara, and she was isolated and alone, for the force was cruel to her, but also through her.
Lara pushed herself into the corner of her bed, curled up on herself as she tried to make herself as small as possible. Through the force screamed that single thought. War. It was war. Death had come and worse would follow for it was war. The thought forced itself into Lara's head and before it every thought of her own faltered. She couldn't focus, she couldn't think, her entire mind consumed by the force, by fear and loss and death.
She vividly felt each loss, each missing life, each Jedi that'd never come home. It echoed in her head, but there was nothing she could do. At most she could try and keep herself sane, but not even her books and drawings could help her focus. Nothing could distract her from the pain pulsing through the force.
It nauseated her. It nauseated her to the point she couldn't eat, even as hunger wracked her stomach. Her hands shook with fear and hunger, yet she couldn't do anything about either. She wasn't anything like the heroes of her favourite stories. She was a frightened coward, a failure of a Jedi who couldn't even control her own connection to the force. She was nothing like the Jedi she dreamt of being.
"Lara? Are you there?" A knock on the door registered in Lara's brain, accompanied by the voice of master Ti. Slowly the door slid open, and the tall Jedi master stepped inside. "Hello Lara, how are you feeling?"
Lara let out a frightened chirp as master Ti sat down next to her, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. Master Ti was kind, she was gentle and caring, and she often came to visit, to help with her troubles or talk about her studies, or about whatever occupied her day.
She placed her other hand on her forehead. "Oh dear, a fever," she mumbled, and Lara let out another unhappy trill.
"Are you sensing what happened?" master Ti gently asked, "the force must've told you, hasn't it?"
Lara gave a weak nod, her shoulders shaking as tired, miserable tears flowed down her cheeks.
"There was a mission to Geonosis," master Ti explained, "Obi-Wan Kenobi and his Padawan were in trouble, and we went to rescue them, but we lost a lot of people in turn, a lot of good Jedi... A lot of people lost friends or their masters or their Padawans. They'll mourn, but that is because they loved. It's a good thing to love, to find connection, but sometimes we lose people we love and it hurts, but that's the price of love. Such is the way of the force."
"They're scared," Lara managed to mumble, "of war."
Master Ti nodded. "The separatists revealed a droid army, and the senate voted for the republic to form an army too. This army came to our rescue on Geonosis, but many fear this will become a great conflict, in which many more might die."
"They're Jedi," Lara whined, "why can't they be brave? It hurts... They're so scared..."
"Oh Lara," master Ti wrapped her arm around her, "you know more than any that we Jedi are just mortal beings too. We all have feelings and emotions, but only the wisest among us can remain calm and patient at all times."
"I'm scared."
"Be brave, Lara," master Ti softly whispered, "you'll be a Padawan soon, and I'm sure you'll be a great one."
"I'll... I'll try," Lara replied, but in her heart she knew she would remain struggling.
When Fera Gyye woke up in her Jedi shuttle, on her way back to Coruscant, it was with cold sweat on her back. She startled herself awake from a horrible dream, a horrible, confusing vision. It was strange, she never had visions, never had dreams so confusing yet so vivid and foreboding.
She'd dreamt of a funeral, a grim funeral for the republic, its corpse draped in red cloth as shrouded soldiers in bone-white armour cheered for murder. She'd retreated into a dark forest, running from the funeral into the claws of the wild, away from her duty as a Jedi. It was a dark dream, until the sound of a cruel cackle startled her awake, and Fera found herself alone in her shuttle again.
As she changed into her robes, Fera's heart thumped with dread anticipation, as if each beat marked a countdown to that funeral. It was a nasty sign, and Fera wished her master was still there. She'd know what to do. She always did. Again she felt that hollow ache of loss. Fera's master had died long ago. Almost eight years had passed since her master was murdered and Fera had become a knight, but it felt as if it was still yesterday. She'd never really had the time to mourn. Instead she'd embarked on her next mission, travelled to the next planet to broker peace or organize a relief effort for some disaster, doing whatever the galaxy needed from her.
Soon she would be home again, just for a short moment, a day at most before her work pulled her away again. In the last eight years Fera had never been home for longer than a day. She hated the temple, because she was not working when she was at the temple. She could be helping so much more when she wasn't there, and she loved helping. She never had that many happy memories of the place anyway. Fera had been a rotten child when she'd grown up there, before she'd become a Padawan, before her master named her Froggie and taught her to be the Jedi she was now.
First she went past her terrariums, checking the water levels of her plants and flowers and trimming a few stray leaves to keep them healthy. The colours and smells reinvigorated her, gave her life to spend in the stifling halls of power. She loved her job, but sometimes it was so damn tiring. Even appreciating the buildings came with a cost and a big load of nuance and scepticism and force-damned context. Her plants had no such complicated stories, although- No. She shouldn't worry about bribery with flowers. She wouldn't let the weight of everything fall upon her little refuge too. Instead she let her hand caress a basilica leaf and plucked it. She rubbed it between thumb and forefinger and breathed deeply, letting the smell of the herb fill her nostrils. It smelled of peace.
Fera was checking the time until she'd arrive on Coruscant when she noticed her datapad blinking. A message and a holonet article that caught her eye. She cursed loudly. Something was wrong, something was very wrong. The Jedi had attacked a separatist planet? Geonosis... It was bad news. For the last few years she'd worked to bring the separatists and senate together again, to try and address their grievances and prevent war, but that'd all failed. 'WAR! Military creation act has passed. Galactic senate declares war on Confederacy of Independent Systems!' read one article. 'Jedi attack Geonosis! Grand Army of the Republic revealed!' read another. 'Clone army? Count Dooku responds,' headed a third, and it just kept going.
Sitting down in the middle of her shuttle, she skimmed the articles. It didn't tell her much. Fera needed to go to the source, her contacts in the senate and the Jedi she could shake down for information. A sinking feeling in her stomach demanded resolution, demanded she take action right now, but it had to wait. Soon she would be on Coruscant again, in person. She tossed her datapad aside and closed her eyes. First she would meditate.