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Chapter Text

The dragon that had roared within his chest since as long as he could remember was silent, for just a moment. It basked in the vengeance it had been given. Blood repaid with blood.

Dooku lay dead amidst the remains of two B3 cortosis battle droids, a single cauterized hole through his chest; the evidence of a swift and brutal end to a fight that Anakin had dreamt of since the day he lost his arm on Geonosis.

The feeling of victory was nearly surreal for the few seconds it remained, before harsh reality set in. Before consequences set in. Anakin had killed a Sith Lord. But in doing so, the knowledge of the elusive Sith Master was lost. The blood in his ears quieted and his surroundings faded back in, adrenaline replaced with hard reality.

It smelled of smoke and ash and burnt flesh, mixed with the damp smell of mildew and trash ever-present in Coruscant’s lower levels. Not too far away, Coruscanti civilians milled just far enough to be safe from any danger, but close enough to view the free show that might come to shake the galaxy… and the war.

Night had set in on Coruscant. Not being too far into the undercity, you could still see rays of light from the surface slowly fade away, casting shadows across the alley.

Pale blue light was cast across the whole area, mixed together with the other fainter colors of the Coruscant underworld. Poor lighting and flickering lamps.

Now was not a time to sit and think. Looking around, he noticed Obi-Wan’s figure lying on the ground a few meters away. Still left form where Count Dooku had unceremoniously thrown him during the duel.

Suddenly, the dragon was back, roaring. Your master is dead, it said. Anakin’s chest tightened; ice dripped through his veins.

Please let him be alive, he thought. In all the times they joked about him saving his master, he’d never really thought of Obi-Wan as anything but invincible.

Anakin quickly ran over to where his Master lay. His footfalls leaving ripples in puddles of still water.

Good, still breathing. Obi-Wan was breathing slightly laboriously but was still alive. The dragon abated.

Count Dooku had thrown him with a particular nasty force push early on in the battle so that he could duel with Anakin alone. Obi-Wan’s tunic was scorched and torn in some areas, a cauterized saber wound in his left side that would leave a nasty scar but little else.

His commlink blinked twice.

He raised it to his mouth. “This is Knight Anakin Skywalker, I’m located on level 5118, not far from the Lyphon Ithorian hotel. We have stopped Count Dooku and need evac. Master Obi-Wan is unconscious and may need medical attention.”

A firm, familiar voice crackled through. “Message heard and received Knight Skywalker. I have a Republic Medical Gunship on the way. Is Count Dooku secure?” Mace Windu’s familiar deep voice was good to hear after the events of today.

“Count Dooku is secure...of a sort. You’ll have to see when you get here.”

“Heard. ETA 10 minutes. Over and out.”

Anakin breathed in a deep breath. He felt lighter than he’d ever had since the Clone Wars began. The events on Geonosis replaying over and over in his mind’s eye.

A twitch from his metal arm. It was certainly not Jedi-like but he was pleased with this. He’d gotten payback for what Count Dooku had done to him. Even years after the fact, his metal arm did not sit well with him. Maybe, now it would.

Glancing around, many of the people who had likely watched his duel with Dooku had left. Best not to stay around when Republic troopers and Jedi were likely on the way. Almost everyone down here has some sort of criminal record, let alone actively partaking in some sort of criminal activity.

He couldn’t hear anymore fighting happening across Coruscant. The insurrection must have been fully thwarted by now.

It still didn’t entirely make sense to Anakin.

Why would you attempt to attack the Jedi Temple? It just seemed like folly to him.

He’d been in the middle of investigating Cortosis shipments on Tattooine when he’d received the message. Coruscant is under attack, make your way back as soon as possible. He could barely believe it.

And when he’d returned—surprise surprise—the attack was composed almost entirely of B3 Cortosis battle droids, let by Dooku and his dark acolyte Trenox.

Cortosis was an alloy that was a member of a very exclusive group of metals. The alloys and metals that could resist a lightsaber strike. There was Neuranium, a metal so dense and heavy that it’s use was prohibitive on anything but quantum reactors, which could resist a lightsaber for short periods of time. Then, Mandalorian Iron, a metal almost completely resistant to lightsabers but jealously guarded by the Mandalorians, known as Beskar. Phrik, a metal expensive and rare, when combined with tydirium, was nearly indestructible.

Cortosis was perhaps the most common and most dangerous. It took effort to refine and was dangerous to touch. Once refined however, it could short out lightsabers on contact. Anakin had only barely discovered a weakness in their upper breastplate they had killed him on Tattooine.

Taking a quick second glance at Kenobi—still breathing—Anakin walked back over to Dooku’s body and quickly retrieved the Master of Makashi’s curved hilt and left the body for whatever sorry soul would have to deal with it.

Anakin placed the blade onto his hip, a trophy for as long as The Order would let him keep it. Likely only as long as it took for him to make it to the temple.

A familiar hum came soaring from the distance. A hum slowly replaced with a deep vibration of a LAAT’s repulsorlifts. Best to get ready then. Quickly, he made his way back to Obi-Wan, picking him up and placing him around his shoulders. Hopefully he’d wake in this position, another time he’d saved his master’s life, another time to tease him endlessly about.

The LAAT arrived, quickly offloading a squad of Coruscant Shock Troopers with bits of ash and scorch marks on their armor. They quickly spread out, taking stock of surroundings and the destroyed B3 droids a short walk away.

“Did you have all the fun while I was off saving the archives?” Ahsoka was still as sharp as her moniker suggested.

“Now, I wouldn’t say that Snips, you look like you’ve had nearly as much fun as I’ve had,” a grin easily found its place one his face.

She was just as covered in soot as the shock troops but that hadn’t seemed to have any effect on her smile or boisterous mood. Of course, something about the current situation slowly took that grin away.

“After you ran off to chase after Dooku, you left me to deal with Trenox. You’re lucky that you’ve taught me how to use a lightsaber.”

Anakin smiled. “Taught you to use a lightsaber? Last I remembered, you seemingly detested my lightsaber form for being, and I quote, too aggressive.”

“It is! I just mean you taught me how to duel an aggressive opponent.”

“Ah...that explains it.”

Ahsoka seemed to finally notice Obi-Wan around his shoulders.

“Master…” she tilted her head to see past Anakin and saw the still body of a Sith Lord behind him.

“Snips—”

That of course, would have to wait, as off stepped Master Mace Windu onto the city streets of Couruscant. He too, seemed to be covered in ash, with a pensive look on his face.

“Knight Skywalker,” he gave a pointed look to Obi-Wan, “where is Count Dooku?”

Anakin stepped out of the way. “He’s dead. I got him with a faint while switching between lightsaber forms.”

This seemed to shock Windu. “Dead—” he took a better look at Anakin, “forgive me Skywalker, but how?”

Anakin didn’t exactly have an answer to that.

Windu took in the silence for a moment. “Regardless, it’s done. What you’ve done today may have just ended the war years earlier than it’s natural conclusion. Without Dooku to keep the Separatist elements together, it’s only a matter of time before they fracture. Good job Knight Skywalker.”

Anakin was bewildered. There certainly wasn’t a smile on Windu’s face, never that, but there was satisfaction and though he was sure he was crazy to even think it, was that pride?

“How is Obi-Wan?”

“Uhh...” a pause. “Yes! Yes, he has some slight wounds and scorching, I think Dooku caught him in the torso with his blade. No serious damage, but certainly a nasty scar to remember it by. Dooku knocked him out early into our duel.”

Mace seemed to give that some thought. “Take no offense Skywalker, you are a very skilled young man, but even I had not expected this of you. Though it is unfortunate that we cannot ply Dooku for information, and I am saddened to see a former Master of ours killed by our own order, his fate was sealed the moment he joined the Sith.”

Now Anakin was certain something was wrong. Who was this man in the place of the sternest Master of the order? The one who at every turn seemed to doubt Anakin and his abilities, accepting—even wanting—the death of Dooku? He was almost certain that the council was going to berate him for the death of Dooku.

The council had never seemed to trust Anakin. Mace most of all had led the group that wanted to push Anakin away from rising through the order. That thought he wasn’t good enough. And now?

“Regardless Skywalker, I think your friend would appreciate being brought to the temple healers as soon as possible. I will deal with the situation here,” and that was all Windu needed to say.

Anakin wasn’t likely to admit it aloud. But it was a lot easier to run from something you don’t understand. That, or fight it. Which didn’t seem like a great idea concerning Windu.

“Snips! Hurry up, we got a master to heal. Even if just so we can tease him for needing saving again,” and so Anakin ran from what he did not understand.

Windu left a parting comment, “Skywalker. Time will come to speak on circumstances here. But for now? Well done.”

And all Anakin could think about was how Windu had never said anything about a curved saber on his belt.

Long meetings were commonplace within the Senate of the Republic. Grandstanding, speaking around issues, and just plain politics was the norm. Sidious of course, was well adept at navigating this field. He enjoyed the power of wrapping politicians and sycophants around his finger. Bending them to his will.

But what had just transpired had him more annoyed than enjoyed. Speaking with members within Padme Amidala’s faction was always a balance of truth and lie. Smart smiles, pleasantries, and promises that he never planned to deliver. The fools.

It seemed every time he turned around Senator Organa and Amidala were pushing for peace with the Separatists from a different direction. Every bill to increase the military. Every act to expand his emergency powers.

The game was certainly more fun with opponents. He could do without these particular ones, however.

If he was sure that it would push Anakin further towards the Dark Side, he would have killed Padme long ago. However, Anakin was unpredictable in a fashion that made long-term planning somewhat...difficult. One had to plan for his unpredictability. Place him in a box where the only way he could react would be to your benefit.

The perfect Jedi trap. If you play, you lose. His master had taught him well, the fool.

A short tune erupted from somewhere within the room. It could have been mistaken for a bird if not for the fact that this was Coruscant. His already annoyed mood turned decidedly foul.

He opened a cabinet in his desk. Filled with work to be signed and other meaningless scraps that could be useful in the day-to-day of the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic. All useless, moved aside. Beneath these was a datapad. This too, was unhelpful.

With a slight bit of force, so minuscule you would never recognize such a thing, a lock clicked and the false bottom to the cabinet lifted to reveal a second, more conspicuous, datapad.

On it, was a single message: Shipments of Durian fruit were missing, the count is off.

A simple translation: The attack on the Jedi Temple failed, Count Dooku is dead.

This news was most unwelcome. Wrestling control of the CIS was always a lesson in patience. Entertaining the concerns of weak fools who could not find enough motivation outside of threats and wealth.

For all his age and weakness as a true Sith, Count Dooku had been a master at playing the politics of the Separatists. Sidious would need to...talk...with members of the Executive Separatist Council and ensure they were properly...motivated.

But perhaps even this could be used for the Great Plan. A vital piece had been lost but Skywalker could not have defeated Darth Tyrannus without dipping into the Dark Side of the Force. Perhaps.

Only one thing was for certain. “This… I did not foresee.”

The council had been speaking for nearly an hour since he had arrived. Left at the door until their discussion could complete.

It would seem that even killing a Sith Lord was not enough to open doors closed to him. Anakin hated it.

It had been strange to receive such compliments from Mace Windu, but things seemed to have slid right back into normalcy. He was waiting on the council to make decisions deciding his life, all the while he waited outside the doors like a child. Still, they didn’t trust him.

A hand landed on his shoulder, making him jump.

“Relax, my friend, we won’t make you wait any longer.” Obi-Wan had recovered fast enough for a council meeting.

“You know Master, I think that you may have been feigning unconsciousness so that I’d carry you back to the temple. Either that or you hit your head hard enough to want to go to a council meeting injured.”

Obi-Wan smiled a grin so unlike what Anakin was used to his Master presenting. “No, no, I would not have left you to fight the Count on your own. Though, now that you mention it, I do have a bit of a headache.”

Anakin gave him a serious look. “I’m sure. You know master, this is the fourth time I’ve saved your life. You still owe me.”

“Is it the fourth? I’m pretty sure it’s only the third.”

“You always say it’s one less time than it actually is,” Anakin was grinning now as well, “it makes you seem almost...less incompetent. What would the council say, a former padawan saving their master time and again?”

“I’m sure they would say. ‘Well done Obi-Wan. You have trained Knight Skywalker well.’”

Anakin’s grin evaporated.

Obi-Wan noticed his expression. “You have done me proud Anakin. Become a greater Jedi than I could ever hope to be. The council is not upset, simply dealing with the repercussions more than making any decision concerning you.”

Anakin didn’t quite know what to say to that. Thankfully, he didn’t need to. The Kel Dorian Master, Plo Koon, chose that moment to exit the chambers.

“Kenobi, I wish you luck in the task ahead of you,” greeted Plo Koon’s voice seeming somewhat strained.

“And I, you, my friend. Felucia is not a forgiving place.”

“Yes, I imagine Commander Wolffe will not be pleased with my assignment.” His voice was grim, as if Wolffe wasn’t the only one displeased with the assignment.

A voice called from within the Council chambers, “come in, Young Skywalker. Your story, I would like to hear.”

Obi-Wan rested his hand lightly on Anakin’s shoulder. “Well, no time like the present.”

Even as the Republic changed, there was a certain attraction to how the Jedi Order did not. The council chambers looked much the same as the first time he entered them when he was nine years old as well as every other time, he had entered them since.

One thing he could not forgive, was how the council placed those it spoke to in the center of the room. The room was circular, surrounded in windows, and placed equidistant from each other were 12 chairs fit for whatever creature used them on the council.

Obi-Wan left Anakin to stand in the middle as he found his own seat in the council. Standing in the center always made Anakin feel as if he had done something wrong. Being interrogated or scolded by the full council. All things considered, most of the time, it wasn’t far from the truth.

Only six members: Grandmaster Yoda, Mace Windu, Saesee Tiin, Adi Gallia, and Obi-Wan of the Jedi Council were present on Coruscant at the moment. Precisely the reason that Dooku thought he could get away with such a brazen attack on Coruscant itself, attempting to steal a holocron from the temple for some nefarious purposes. Ki-Adi-Mundi and Kit Fisto were holocomming in from elsewhere in the galaxy with the rest occupied with the war.

Windu spoke first. “We’d like your account of what occurred when you arrived on Coruscant up until I arrived after Count Dooku’s death.”

Besides Obi-Wan and Yoda, the other 4 members of the council seemed to shift uncomfortably at the mention of Dooku.

Anakin shifted on his feet. “Masters, as you are aware, I had been investigating the C-B3 Cortosis battle droids on Tattooine”

And hadn’t that been a journey in itself. Jabba the Hutt had been funneling cortosis to the Techno Union, involving himself in the Clone Wars. Quite disturbingly, trading with the Separatists wasn’t disallowed, per say, it was just unusual after Dooku’s actions towards the start of the war.

Anakin had firmly stopped that from continuing. There was little Jabba could do about a Jedi confiscating goods from a war rival. Wat Tambor could make his battle droids out of something not lightsaber resistant from here on, thank-you-very-much.

The only issue was how much cortosis had been funneled to wherever Wat Tambor was producing his new battle droid designs.

“We are now aware of the status of that mission Knight Skywalker,” a soft-spoken Saesee Tiin offered.

“Well, after I received the message from Obi-Wan about the attack on Coruscant, I rushed back as fast as I could. By the time I had made it to the surface, the attack was already underway.”

Anakin hadn’t really thought of the repercussions of that quite yet. Separatist action had occurred before on Coruscant, never before had there been a full-scale attack on the capital planet.

“I destroyed some of the cortosis droids and made my way to the temple where most of you had engaged the droids. In the archives, I found Dooku and his acolyte Trenox attempting to steal a Jedi holocron.” And Anakin would love to know what was so important about that Jedi holocron that Dooku was willing to endanger himself to steal. The council probably considered that information confidential. Typical.

“Dooku fled. Ahsoka engaged Trenox while Obi-Wan and I chased Dooku. We followed Dooku below the surface of Coruscant where we dueled. Obi-Wan was knocked unconscious and I killed Dooku during our duel.” This was the point that Anakin was sure the council would be displeased with.

And they were.

“Why did you not attempt to capture Count Dooku instead?” Ki-Adi-Mundi’s voice stated over holocomm.

“Dooku was too dangerous to attempt to capture him. I had one opportunity to end the fight and get Obi-Wan help, so I used it.” Anakin responded heatedly.

“Understandable, that is, young Skywalker. An honorable thing to protect Obi-Wan, it was. No blame, do we place on you.” And yet, Yoda still managed to sound disappointed at that.

And like that, Anakin was seemingly forgotten for the moment. Even standing in the middle of the council, they managed to ignore him for speaking on how this would affect the war effort.

“I am of the mind that without Dooku, the Separatist cause will fall apart,” Windu said.

“I am still searching for wherever General Grievous seems to hide when he’s not leading Separatist forces. Without him, the CIS military is leaderless.” Kit Fisto’s faded voice came in. Wherever in the galaxy he was, it didn’t seem to have good connection.

Obi-Wan rubbed his beard. “I am of the mind that we may be able to use Senators to reach out to the Separatist Senate. Without Dooku, many of the more...reasonable...senators in the CIS should be willing to treaty.”

“That, would be up to the Supreme Chancellor,” Mace seemed slightly perturbed saying this, “he seems to have pushed for escalation in nearly every situation since the war began.”

Anakin rushed to defend the Chancellor. “The Separatists have shown they can’t be trusted. They attacked every attempt at treaty. The Chancellor had to take action.”

The room was silent. The council had seemingly forgotten he was there for the moment.

Mace’s eyes were daggers. “Young Skywalker. This is a discussion with members of the Jedi Council. You may leave.”

“I’m just saying—”

“And I’m telling you to leave.”

One thing Anakin could never hope to win, was a staring contest with Mace Windu. So he left.

As per usual, the council threw him away as soon as he said something that contradicted their worldview. Weren’t they fighting this war too? How could they not understand?

He heard Yoda speak on his way out. “Hopeful, I am, that end the war quickly, we can. Captured, Grievous must be” Yoda’s final words to the council seemed more like an omen than a command.

No matter where in the galaxy he was, he was always reminded of home. Not the sandy, miserable place that he grew up on. But here, in Padme’s arms, her hands sifting through his long hair. Comfortable silence and a loving embrace. His love, his wife, his home.

He was home.

Perhaps the only good thing of being forcibly grounded on Coruscant was that he could be with Padme. He’d received word from the council that he was staying on Coruscant for the next week as the council members reassessed the state of the war.

That’s not to say that the rest of the Jedi would stop fighting. Just Anakin. Even Obi-Wan was being sent away in three days for a classified mission. It didn’t surprise Anakin, but it still hurt.

He was reminded of where he was. Padme had her head in the crook of his neck, reading some romance novel. Her favorite author had released another book. He didn’t entirely understand the attraction, but it made Padme happy and that was enough for him.

He sat, just enjoying her presence after so long apart. Watching the Coruscant sunset in the distance, in the cool night air, he breathed her in. She smelt of Naboo. Fragrances of flowers and the sweet smell of Naboo grass. Her soft skin was a stark contrast to he calloused hands. He was reminded of why he did what he did.

He fought the war out there, with lightsaber, pain, and blood. She fought the war here on Coruscant. Caring for the refugees, helping the citizens of the Republic. Before Dooku, Anakin secretly thought she had been doing a better job of it than he had.

Padme was probably the only Senator in the entire Republic that cared about the people she represented more than she did herself. While the other senators lied, cheated, and scammed their way through life, she gave herself up for her people. It was the reason Anakin had to protect her.

Even he wasn’t stupid enough to think Padme needed protection on her own. Her handmaidens from her time as Queen turned into her bodyguards and her own—not inconsiderable—skill with a blaster would mean she was never in direct danger. But her selflessness attracted many enemies.

He broke the silence first. “Did you know that Dooku has been killed?” Hmm...not exactly the best way to break the news.

Padme immediately sat up straight, turning and staring straight at Anakin. Her brown eyes seemed to search his soul. “Really?”

“Yes, well, he couldn’t take being a miserable old man anymore and decided it was time to go.” Anakin couldn’t ever remember being this lighthearted at the mention of Dooku. He supposed it was hard to hate the man he cut off his arm after the man was already dead.

“Ani!” He gave her a grin at that. “Stars, that’s amazing! I know we shouldn’t exactly be happy he’s dead, but, well, without their leader, the Separatist forces could surrender! We might be able to push talks through.”

And as per usual, Padme’s excitement instantly turned her sharp mind towards politics. Completely oblivious now to the fact that he was even in the room. Force, he loved this woman.

She was whispering under her breath now. No doubt thinking of innumerable plans she had to change, ideas she now had to push through the Senate.

“Padme,” his grin sobers for a moment, “I was the one to do it.”

She immediately looked concerned. “Ani, are you okay?”

Anakin couldn’t remember a time he had felt better than this. For just a moment the constant anxiety was absent. The war, the Force, the Jedi, all the expectations rested upon him felt like small worries drowned in an ocean of peace.

Dooku was dead. He had avenged himself for what Dooku had done to him. More than that, this meant the war was almost over. This meant that he might finally be able to be with Padme.

“Yes, Force, I’m better than I’ve been in years.” The smile he gave her was perhaps the truest since the day they married.

He let himself get caught up in this feeling. Caught up in Padme. With no assignment to find himself back on, he was able to stay the night for the first time in months.

Later, at night, in bed with Padme sleeping beside him, he dared to dream. He dreamed of a beautiful home on Naboo. Anakin was free to do however he pleased, to care for Padme. Living their lives peacefully and without a thought towards war and hurt. And perhaps, for just a moment, he dreamed of little figures running around the house and the love he felt for them.

Anakin cried himself to sleep. For once...not out of fear.

Perhaps one of the few enjoyable things about sitting in on a Senate session was hearing the Chancellor speak. It made Anakin remember what it was like when he believed that the Republic truly stood for morals. That they cared about corruption and what happened to the rest of the galaxy.

Sometimes, it felt as if the only good people in the entire Senate were Padme and Palpatine. It wasn’t much of a surprise when you considered that they both came from Naboo.

No matter how good his speeches, nothing would make him understand how the Chancellor put up with all the sycophants and politicians.

“Supreme Chancellor,” the Senator from Carida was laying it on thick now, “Carida is perfectly suited for the advanced training of Clone Commandos—”

Palpatine put a stop to the nonsense. “Yes, yes. I’m sure it will be a good decision for advanced training on Carida’s academy. Thank you, Senator Railok.”

The Carida pod slowly made its way back to its spot on the Senate wall. Palpatine stood to address the Senate.

“That brings me to our last point of order. The state of the war. This time, Master Windu of the Jedi Order has come to bring news to the Senate.” The Chancellor smiled to Windu, giving him a wave to bring his platform forward.

Mace Windu’s pod moved forward. His stern countenance broadcasted across the galaxy to the citizens of the Republic. This would be a defining moment in the war.

“I bring good news regarding the state of the war. Count Dooku has been killed. Dur-”

The applause was deafening, cutting Windu off mid-sentence. Yells and shouts of different members of the Senate slowly overtook any form of order that might have previously been held. How quick politicians were to act like the savages they pretended those below them were.

A shout. “How did he die?”

A sullustan joined the fray. “What does this mean for the Republic?”

Finally, “when will the war end?”

This caught most of the Senate’s attention. Soon after, nearly the entire Senate was demanding an answer to when the war would end.

“Order! I will have order in the Senate. One would think you wouldn’t make an old man yell.” Palpatine, as ever, seemed to quickly control the room. “Master Windu, continue your report, we can discuss any questions regarding it after you have finished.”

With this Palpatine gave a sweep of his head around the room. Even his political opponents seemed cowed at how they had reacted.

“As I was saying, Count Dooku was killed during the attack yesterday on Coruscant and specifically the attack on the Jedi Temple. Dooku and an apprentice of his, Trenox, infiltrated the Temple and attempted to steal from the Jedi archives. While the Jedi Masters dealt with the threat of the droids, Knight Skywalker and Master Kenobi fought Dooku.” Mace ended his report abruptly there, never the one comfortable with politics.

The Chancellor, however, didn’t seem entirely satisfied with that answer. “May I ask how he came to die, Master Windu?”

“During the duel, Knight Skywalker defeated Count Dooku.” Windu admitted.

Once again, the Senate was plunged into chaos again. Anakin was sure he heard yells of ‘Hero without Fear!’ from somewhere within the Rotunda. A moniker the Republic seemed to have fitted him with sometime during the war.

“Order! Now, that is considerably good news. Without the political leader backing the Separatist movement, we can finally start working on truly dismantling their military—”

This did not seem to satisfy Windu. “Excellency, shouldn’t the death of Count Dooku mean the end of the war?”

“Dooku may be dead, but the droid armies are led by General Grievous. Until such a time as he is captured or killed, the Separatists will not allow the war to end. Especially, after killing their leader.” Palpatine seemed somewhat troubled with this.

Anakin could understand that at least. For while it was nice for a time to enjoy how the war might change, Palpatine was right. The war would not end as long as General Grievous controlled the droid armies. The dragon within Anakin’s chest roared again, removing what peace he had.

“I am concerned about the response from the Chancellor concerning the end of the war,” ever the cautious one, Oppo Rancisis, spearheaded the entire council’s discussion.

“Hrmm. Led into another trap by the Sith Master, we must not be. The Dark Shroud over the force, no lighter, has it become,” Yoda added.

“I, have been quite concerned about that myself. What many of you may not know, is my shatterpoints in the force have given me some insight into the war and the state of the Dark Side,” Windu offered. At this, there were some concerned glances.

“Known about this, I have. Continue, you may,” and suddenly the doubtful glances were gone.

Windu took a deep breath, “My lightsaber combat and even some telekinesis has become easier as the war has drawn on. When Darth Maul fell, I felt no change. Similarly, now with Dooku’s death I have felt little beyond his passing. I fear that the Sith Master is still out there.”

This, of course, concerned Obi-Wan. Where was this supposed Sith Master? It was without doubt that Dooku was not the master, even without Mace’s testimony, the timing simply didn’t match with Dooku’s fall. Nor would Dooku have been satisfied to have someone like Maul as an apprentice. No matter his changes towards the end of his life, Dooku was never one to suffer a fool. Jedi or Sith.

Even his dark acolytes were little more than weak force sensitives given a red lightsaber and some parlor tricks. Dangerous to be sure, but no Sith.

He offered something that had been concerning him for some time.

“I fear that Dooku will likely be replaced by the Sith Master. I would say he has little time to train a new apprentice, but with so many Dark Jedi and Acolytes of Dooku running around, it wouldn’t be impossible for him to have a competent apprentice in little time.”

Windu looked like he had swallowed something awful at that.  “I concede that it is not unlikely Dooku’s assassins and acolytes might band together to take control of the Separatist military. Ventress and Sora Bulq are perhaps the most dangerous among them. After Sev’rance Taan’s death, Sora Bulq is known to be the leader of Dooku’s Acolytes.”

“Do not forget Quinlan Vos. Recent news has made it clear that he has fallen to the Dark Side.” Oppo Rancisis said.

Dooku’s many Dark Acolytes are hardly the problem here, Obi-Wan thought.

He said as much. “I fear that these Dark Side adepts are not the true root of the problem. As long as the Supreme Commander of the CIS lives, their military will continue to be a problem.”

“My search for Grievous has still yielded nothing beyond what little tracks we can find. My padawan is currently working on an idea of his. If we can locate and capture Grievous, we can stop the war before this Sith Lord can find a new apprentice. This will leave us in a more advantageous position,” Kit Fisto responded. He had holocommed in from his current assignment tracking down Grievous’ lair.

“Keep searching for him. He may be a coward, but he is a slippery one at that,” Obi-Wan said.

“shifted, this war has. No closer yet, it’s end draws,” Yoda said.

The omen sat dark and heavy over the council for a period of time. Each member thinking of the repercussions of Dooku’s death and how to fight this invisible Sith Lord. Obi-wan felt as if dark days still lay on the horizon.

“I must say, I am...concerned...with Knight Skywalker’s execution of Dooku. He continues to seem lost to emotion when in the middle of a fight,” Eeth Koth spoke for the first time, his communication from the Siege of Commenor shaky.

Obi-Wan himself was still concerned with how often Anakin was swept away by strong emotions. Even after so many years, he had never managed to temper Anakin to save his passion for the right place and time. But in this case, Obi-Wan thought Anakin was justified. “We have little knowledge of how his emotions felt during his duel with Dooku himself. From what I was conscious for, Anakin had kept a remarkably calm front. He likely knew, as I did, that this was our first chance since Geonosis to stop him.”

“That may be true...but do you think it very likely that Knight Skywalker has become powerful and disciplined enough so...quickly...as to defeat a Sith Lord?” Eeth Koth’s response was quick.

Obi-Wan had no answer for that.

“Hrmm. Become very powerful, young Skywalker has.” Yoda’s words rang true in the force itself.

This had the potential to be a disaster if not used correctly. While it had always been possible that Dooku could die at any moment within the Clone Wars, Sidious had liked to rely on his visions of the future for insight such as that.

One potential moment had been that first gambit on Geonosis. The Jedi had been unaware of Dooku’s true corruption. Only that he was leading a rival faction and seemed to be at odds with the Jedi. Count Dooku was more than a passable swordsman and would win any purely sword duel.

He could admit, of course, that if timing had worked differently, it was possible Yoda, Obi-Wan, and Anakin all would have faced Dooku at the same time. Still, plans had been made in the case of his death.

And plans were still in action. Ones with years of depth that could not be stopped or swept aside with the death of a single apprentice. Sith Lord or not. Darth Tyrannus may be dead but The Plan of generations of Sith was not.

For the time being he would need a new apprentice to work on. The war was salvageable for a time, as long as one key piece was...removed.

But removing such a piece was a dangerous act. Young Skywalker was not quite ready to fall. Years of plans set in motion and yet they were all too slow. Sidious was patient, he had schemed and planned for years for the little power he now held and yet...and yet he was not ready to wait decades longer.

Files would need to be encrypted. Plans hidden; agents spread across the galaxy.

It was time to take a risk. Sidious smiled.

Once more retrieving his hidden datapad, he sent a single message through the hidden back-channels of the HoloNet.

 Gone to Ground

Everything in his personal office encrypted itself. The datapad itself shut off, useless for the time being.

Bills for the future had not been passed. Emergency powers not quite all granted. The Supreme Chancellor did not have total control of the Senate and Grand Army of the Republic. But he was certainly close.

Time to remove a piece. For the time being of course, it shouldn’t take terribly long for the piece to come back with a new title and allegiance.

He sent a comm message to his Senate Secretary. “Request a meeting with Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker at his soonest convenience, my dear.”

The force twisted around him.

Anakin strode into the Supreme Chancellor’s formal office within the Senate Annex. This was a path he had treaded many times for one reason. Today, that reason would be the same.

“You requested to see me Chancellor?” Anakin looked to his mentor, a father figure in all but blood.

“I wanted to speak to you about the war Anakin. Come.” Palpatine was standing in front of the large window that dominated the office, looking out into the city of Coruscant, into the Republic.

Chancellor Palpatine had somehow managed to make a formal office a comfortable place even for those that had no business doing politics. Different artifacts, vases, and sculptures dominated the room and covered the walls. Paintings of old battles and decorated art pieces of renown. There was a Neuranium statue off near the center of the room that vibrated in the force as the metal typically did.

Anakin always felt both comfortable and uncomfortable in this office. Comfortable because of the familiar presence of his mentor in all things outside the Force. Uncomfortable for the widespread expressions of wealth and grandiose. It was not unlike the feeling Anakin felt when introspective around Senator Amidala’s personal rooms.

Wealth had always made him uncomfortable.

And yet, Palpatine seemed to wear it well and wear it without prejudice or malice. Perhaps the people of Naboo all treated wealth like this. Something to be enjoyed but never lorded over. Used to help as much as enjoy.

“I wanted to thank you for killing Count Dooku Anakin.”

Palpatine turned away from the window and stepped over to his desk, sitting down before Anakin.

“With what you’ve now done, you’ve likely shortened the war by a year or more, even if there is still much to be done. I am proud of you Anakin.” The smile Palpatine gave him honored Anakin.

Anakin was intensely reminded of how often this man had believed in him. It did not surprise him to learn that Anakin had killed Dooku as it seemed to surprise the council. The way it surprised Obi-Wan.

“Thank you, Chancellor,” Anakin said.

“I always knew you’d grow to be something extraordinary Anakin. Ever since I met you on Naboo so many years ago, when I was still a Senator,” he remarked fondly.

A blush took Anakin’s cheeks. Though he hated to admit it, he was still uncomfortable receiving praise from a figure like Palpatine.

“I have been meaning to ask you...how is Senator Amidala? I have spoken with her little since the war truly began. Us Naboo must watch out for each other and I believe I may have been doing quite a poor job of it.”

Anakin rushed to defend him, “No! You’ve been very busy helping keep the Republic afloat. I can’t imagine how busy you are. Padme is great. She was shocked to hear the news about Dooku, it’s given her hope that the war may finally end.”

Palpatine nodded at this. He seemed to gaze off past Anakin, deeply in thought.

“I’d like to have a serious conversation Anakin...”

A serious conversation? He was bewildered. “What about, Chancellor?”

Palpatine suddenly looked grimmer than Anakin had ever seen him.

“You know that I’d give you anything, right Anakin?”

Anakin wasn’t exactly sure what to say.

“I would be lying to say that I haven’t come to see you a bit as the son that I never had.”

Son he never had. It felt like the world had truly fell out beneath him. The Chancellor was a mentor to be sure, and Anakin had dared in his own thoughts to view him as a fatherly figure. But to know the Chancellor felt that way?

“I have become increasingly worried as of late. I am afraid after slaying Dooku, rightly so I must add, you will be targeted by a great many spies and assassins. I have no doubt you can certainly take care of yourself, but the people close to you?”

His heart skipped.

“Chancellor, surely you don’t mean?”

“Now, your friendship with the Senator of Naboo has become somewhat public in the past few years. You have met with her more often than any other Senator. She has certainly become a public friend of yours.”

He felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“But...I fear that one of my political enemies may know of that friendship you have and to my weakness, my feelings towards you. My enemies are truly vicious, and would no doubt be willing to consider any way to harm me. If they cannot hurt you...”

The room seemed to close around him.

“The Jedi likely won’t be able to keep her safe. They can hardly keep me safe after all the assassination attempts on myself...and I have perhaps the greatest security in the galaxy. I have spent the past few days doing...all that I can...to find a way to keep Padme safe. But...I have an idea.”

He could barely think.

“It’s not exactly to the benefit of the Jedi but now is not the time to speak of it. Go home, think of your friendship with Senator Amidala and those not within the order. Think of the things this war might take from you...then come to me once you decide.”

He sat, picking at the food on his plate. Brooding in a way that would make Obi-Wan jealous.

Life had never been so kind and cruel to Anakin.

He had been quite aware of the cruelties that life dispensed towards those who’s damning wish was to live.

Tattooine had been one of those cruelties. That dust ball of a planet itself was hell incarnate. Having traveled the galaxy, seen religions where hell was a world of fire and brimstone or one where the air itself frozen and shattered, he had learned.

That wasn’t hell. For Anakin had fought battles across planets with those very same characteristics and none captured hell like life on a backwater desert planet.

It wasn’t just the heat. It wasn’t just the crime or the slavery. It wasn’t the lack of water or food. The lack of civilization or any reputable people. It wasn’t the lack of standards.

In all honesty, it wasn’t any one thing. He’d like to blame the sand for sure, however that wasn’t truly the case.

It was the lack of hope. It was remembering that hell. Every time he set foot on a desert planet and especially the few times he’d had to go back to that damnable planet. He had to remember what had been done to him.

Had to remember hell. Had to remember the woman he left behind in it.

He had been angry for having been sent back to Tattooine. Now, he had to grapple with the fact that going to Tattooine had started the line of events with Dooku beneath his blade.

And Dooku’s death? It was a kindness for sure. It was quick, the one bone this galaxy threw to him. But the bone, of course, was a trick. He had killed Dooku and brought hell unto himself again.

He wasn’t going to let that hell consume another woman he loved.

Looking up from his plate, he met the eyes of Padme. She sat, food similarly untouched with concern in her eyes. Concern for him, he thought.

It shouldn’t have to be this way. He had become a Jedi to be powerful. To protect the ones, he loved. To save those he could.

Instead, he lost he ones he loved.

Losing Padme was unthinkable. The Chancellor’s words rung true in his very being.

Padme broke the silence first.

“Ani...what’s bothering you?”

“I...I’m worried about the consequences of what I’ve done. I’m happy to have stopped Dooku...but what if it wasn’t worth it?”

Padme seemed slightly bewildered by this.

“Wasn’t worth it? Anakin, with Dooku out of the way, we can finally draw an end to this war. The less aggressive elements of the Separatists will surely take power. We could start working towards peace.”

“People won’t be happy that I’ve killed Dooku. They may come after me. Come after the Chancellor—” He took a breath. Then quietly, “come after you.”

“Anakin, the Chancellor has always been a target. You are a war hero and though it scares me every time you leave, I know you—”

“But what about you?” He could hear the desperation in his voice, and he hated it.

“I can certainly handle myself. Besides, if I was in any threat, I’m sure you could petition the council.”

Anakin couldn’t understand how this didn’t scare her. It scared him.

“Padme...I can’t lose you.”

“And you won’t. I’m fine, Ani, I promise.”

Anakin knew she could handle herself. She had certainly gotten herself out of more messes than he’d like to think of over the past few years. She was perhaps one of the only Senators who enjoyed being near the frontlines.

Much to the dismay of himself.

He still was bewildered in how often a diplomat found themselves in the heat of battle. He wouldn’t have been surprised if she had racked up more destroyed battle droids than many clones.

But that inkling of worry didn’t leave.

“Perhaps with the war cooling down, the Chancellor will stop supporting these ridiculous bills. I’ve always known he’s had a more...aggressive...touch concerning his politics, but still.”

Anakin was confused. “What’s wrong with the bills he’s supporting?”

Padme sighed. “It’s not so much the bills that are the issue. It’s the powers he holds to push those bills. He’s not quite a dictator, but he certainly has a lot of power.”

“How can you say that? I thought he was your friend?”

“He is. Ani, there’s a reason you were never fit for politics. Chancellor Palpatine is my friend...but...he’s also one of my biggest political opponents. That’s just politics.”

“Wha- How does that make any sense? Palpatine’s political opponents are Separatists in all but name!”

“Anakin, Palpatine has a lot of political opponents. And certainly, a lot of allies. Not all of his opponents hate him, and they certainly don’t all have Separatist allegiances.”

This flew in the face of everything Anakin understood. He knew that he had stayed away from Padme’s work, but he hadn’t known Padme and the Chancellor were all but enemies. It was unfathomable.

Padme, being the politician she was, noticed this. Her face took on a bit of a wistful smile.

“The Chancellor is Naboo. We’ll always been kin in that way. Our political careers were very much attached for a long time, and I’d trust the Chancellor with my life in nearly every way. Every way besides our political leanings.”

“The Chancellor never mentioned that.”

“That was very kind of him. I know he’s been a mentor to you, and I respect him for not trying to drag me through the mud.”

For just a moment, he forgot about the concerns of attacks and assassinations. Learning that his closest mentor and wife were enemies was...earth-shattering.

And Padme just sat there. As if it was the most normal thing in the world to consider someone your friend and also your enemy.

“Anakin...why does this surprise you?” She seemed almost sorry for what she was about to say, “You know that I’ve never agreed with your thoughts on the war.”

Padme was still speaking. He didn’t seem to hear it.

He’d known Padme wasn’t fond with increasing the armies. She had old Senatorial friends within the Separatists. She was the most kind-hearted person he knew.

He’d seen her use a blaster. Fight battle droids just the same.

But opposing the war? A war that started with the attempted execution of herself, him, and Obi-Wan?

On a dusty, hot, sand-ball hell of a planet like Geonosis.

“Honestly, Ani, I know you look up to him, but he’s been attempting to bypass Senators that wish to promote peace since the war began.”

He got up from the table. Dinner untouched. His hands were shaking.

“I—Sorry. Give me a moment”

He seemed to have cut her off. He couldn’t find it in himself to care right now.

Walking out of their shared apartment, one thought dominated his mind. His very existence.

Was Padme a Separatist sympathizer?

Or perhaps even worse.

Was she right?

The Chancellor’s offer kept ringing in his head.

“I have spent the past few days doing...all that I can...to find a way to keep Padme safe. But...I have an idea,” he had said

What was his plan to keep Padme safe?

Could he convince the Council to let him be her bodyguard? Nobody would be able to hurt her with him around.

If he went to the Jedi Council, he might tip them off about his marriage with Padme. Or, at the very least, it would be a surefire way for them to attempt to limit his contact with her because of attachments.

If he went to the Chancellor, he might be able to find some way to protect Padme. Maybe he would put in a request for Anakin to protect Padme. The Chancellor had some say in the missions the Jedi undertook with some of the recent legislation.

But what about what Padme said? Did the Chancellor really use the war to consolidate power?

At the start of the war, he was given emergency powers until the end of the Separatist crisis, until the end of the war. He’d lobbied for the Clone army, pushed for the expansion of the Navy.

He’d taken the Republic from a peacetime government to a fully-fledged war-fighting system of rule. Was that a bad thing?

He’d certainly never thought so.

He still didn’t think so.

Where would the Republic be without the clones? Without the Navy. The Senate bickered and whined and slowed down the ability to stop the CIS. Without the Chancellor, would there still be a Republic?

He wasn’t sure.

But Padme’s words rung true as well.

The Chancellor had pushed for more emergency powers.

The military had become increasingly separated from the Jedi.

Before, when the Republic couldn’t even decide whether to have an army or not, the Jedi had taken on the Clone Army as their own personal force.

The Chancellor had then been able to use his emergency powers to push the Military Creation Act through the Senate.

Training of new army and naval officers had been spread throughout the core. Clones were completing their training on Carida, shipbuilding through the Chancellor’s allies in Kuat and Corellia.

Without the Chancellor, there’d be no Grand Army of the Republic.

And because of that, much of the military was loyal to him.

The clones trusted the Jedi implicitly. But the naval officers? The companies that supplied the army with weapons and ships?

Anakin had never really thought about it. Padme and the Chancellor held widely opposing views on war. On how to go about it. On how to stop it.

He’d privately agreed with the Chancellor.

Not because he didn’t believe Padme...but the Separatists were much less willing to treaty on the frontlines than in the Senates.

The CIS armies operated without insight. Under the command of very few, brutal, leaders. Ones that wanted war and destruction. Who were evil in their very nature.

They weren’t fighting a collection of corporations and planetary allegiances. They were fighting the Sith. The Dark Side itself.

You couldn’t make peace with that.

The Chancellor was certainly right on that account.

Maybe the Chancellor had manipulated the Senate. Pushed for more power. Done what he could to align the Republic to his vision. One that didn’t end in the destruction of the Jedi and the Republic.

Maybe the Chancellor was winning over support of the military.

His allies taking over the Senate.

Kuat and Corellia pushing for more aggressive and extravagant warships.

Kamino pumping out more clones.

Maybe he had done all these things. Not in the name of quick peace. Or empty platitudes.

But for strength. For survival.

Maybe he was right.

Maybe...it was time to hear the Chancellor out.

The walk to the Chancellor’s public offices was a long one.

Opulence hung in the corridors in the form of paintings and tapestries from across the Galaxy. Ithorian sculptures, Sullustan obsidian art pieces, Alderaanian artistic rugs, and was that a Gungan clothing in a display case?

Being the leader of the Republic came with certain benefits. Even Anakin knew that in the strange machinations of the Senate, appearances were everything.

For the Chancellor not to crown his offices and chambers in art pieces and wealth from around the known galaxy would be a sign of weakness.

There was a certain simplicity to the Jedi mandate on owning nothing, no matter how he sometimes detested it.

His short period of peace with Padme had worn off. The dragon was back. Your wife is going to die, it said.

No matter what he thought, he couldn’t seem to rid that thought entirely.

His wife was going to die. Or at least, she would if he didn’t do something.

The Chancellor’s office looked considerably different in the dark night of Coruscant.

“Ah, Anakin. I was just preparing things. I imagine I might be stuck here quite later tonight than usual.”

Palpatine’s wrinkled face held a smile and just the slightest bit of concern. He’d always been quite adept at reading Anakin.

“Come, sit down, I’m just finishing signing a new petition. You might come to hear of it in time soon.”

Palpatine had flimsy on his desk, one of the few relics of how the Old Republic used to operate. Signing petitions on flimsy instead of on datapads to denote significance and importance.

Anakin sat down just in time to see Palpatine sign the flimsy with an ornate pen made of what looked like ivory embellished with gold.

Suddenly, Palpatine pushed it away, his face focusing on Anakin. He seemed to peer into something more than just physical appearance. It was somewhat uncomfortable.

Anakin spoke. “I’ve given some thought to our last conversation.”

The Chancellor shook his head minutely.

“Let us worry about this here soon. You do not look well. Have you been sleeping?”

No, he had not.

“A little. It’s been hard with being shipped across the galaxy to maintain a functional sleep schedule.”

Palpatine smiled, his eyes far off, seemingly remembering something.

“That, I can certainly understand.” Palpatine seemed to come back to the present. “How have the Jedi reacted to Dooku’s demise? They seemed somewhat withdrawn during the Senate meeting.”

“They did not seem entirely pleased with your announcement to the Senate,” Anakin frowned. “With the death of Count Dooku, they were hoping that you would set aside your emergency powers.

This seemed to bewilder Palpatine.

“Set aside? For what reason? That the figurehead of the Separatists is dead? He may certainly have been leading them, but until General Grievous is dead, it is folly to pretend the war is won.”

“They believe that the CIS will dissipate now that Dooku is dead.”

Though he’d like to believe such a thing, he wasn’t entirely convinced.

“Ah, I see.” Palpatine seemed to have come to a realization. “Yes, that certainly makes sense. The Jedi would certainly see it that way.”

Whatever point that stood out to Palpatine obviously hadn’t occurred to him.

“You see, Anakin, it is more complicated than that.” He seemed to pause on that point.

“More complicated, sir?” Anakin said.

“Yes. Don’t you find it strange that the biggest players on both sides of this war were Jedi?”

“Jedi? Count Dooku was a Sith!”

“Ah, but Dooku was once a Jedi Master, wasn’t he?” Palpatine seemed to lean forward over his desk, “Now, I can’t say I know terribly much about the Sith but what little I do know suggests something quite interesting.”

Anakin couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“The Sith adopt a Sith name do they not? A Darth. A particular account recorded they had ‘yellow eyes, with hate, anger, and rage being their principal emotions.’

It made sense, Anakin thought. Why was Dooku not like the Sith he’d seen. Not like Darth Maul?

“Count Dooku seemingly had none of these things. He was quite calm and composed. I’m sure you can attest in nearly every time you met him.”

And he could. Count Dooku was many things. One thing he was not, was reckless. He was calm, cool, and collected.

“But why the red lightsaber you might ask?” Palpatine questioned. “Well. Though it is not terribly common knowledge, the Jedi store Sith holocrons in their vault.”

They did?

“The Sith knowledge is certainly known—not that the Jedi would do more than hoard it—but a Jedi Master would certainly have access to those. Holocrons that could teach one to, oh I don’t know, create a red lightsaber?”

“All I am saying is I find it quite strange.” Palpatine put upon an expression of a mouse tiptoeing around a trap. “Many in the Republic see no difference between the Jedi and the Sith.”

“How!? Count Dooku leads the Separatists against the Republic. He trains acolytes in the Dark Side of the Force and uses torture and attacks innocents!”

Anakin had literally fought an acolyte of Dooku not one week ago on Tattooine. Hate, rage, and strong emotions were perhaps the only thing that acolyte had felt.

“Yes, well, from the view of the uninformed. They wield lightsabers, have mystical powers, and lead the armies of war.”

In a sick sort of way, it made sense.

Palpatine’s expression was suddenly grim. “Before you killed Dooku, Republic sentiment has been slowly drifting. The people view the Clone Wars as a war between two ideological factions using the galaxy as their playground.”

Put like that, it was a little hard not to see their point.

“Hasn’t the HoloNet been blasting Obi-Wan and I’s accomplishments for the past year now? I doubt there’s a single citizen that doesn’t know the battles I fight by this point.”

“Yes, but the HoloNet has only been focused on you and your...Master...Besides you, the Jedi have started to become reviled.”

“How could they not understand what we’ve sacrificed?”

“They certainly understand what you have sacrificed. Many see the Jedi that don’t fight. And perhaps, they continue to see the Jedi interfere.”

“Interfere? I—”

“We’ve managed to get quite far from the original point.” Palpatine sighed. “All I meant to say is that even I have found it concerning have much the Jedi seem to intrude upon the Senate. It is quite simple; they do not understand the war and they certainly do not understand politics.

That was something Anakin had been saying since the beginning.

The Jedi weren’t willing to do what needed to be done to win the war. More than that, every member of the council seemed to give a different answer. Most were barely even truly tactically minded.

“And, with that off my chest, I suppose we can hear what you came here for.”

And suddenly the dragon was back. Roaring within Anakin’s chest.

“Yes sir. I wanted to know what you had in mind.”

“Yes, yes, I imagine you would.” Palpatine gave a resolute nod. “You have made many friends outside of the Jedi order. Senator Amidala being chief among them.”

Obi-Wan said Anakin’s impulsiveness would be the death of him.

“Chancellor, Padme told me that you were political opponents…” He trailed off, suddenly unsure of himself.

“Ha! Yes, that is indeed true.” Palpatine seemed untroubled by this fact.

“May I ask why?”

“Why? Well, Senator Amidala is a firm believer in peace. Negotiations. The good of other sentients.” Palpatine had a sad smile for Anakin. “I cannot say I feel the same. I wish I believed in the good of other sentients, but I have seen corruption and evil in all creatures.”

Anakin privately agreed.

“As I’m sure you’re aware. Peace is not always possible. I’ve found, often, that ‘Peace is a lie’, an old friend of mine once told me. He said, ‘There is only Passion.’ Perhaps a tad dramatic, it still holds weight.”

Peace is a lie?

“Senator Amidala is the idealized version of myself. I hope she never loses that faith. But we both know that isn’t how the world works, don’t we? Your time on the battlefield has shown you that well enough. How the Jedi, who pride themselves on peace, throw themselves into a war without abandon.”

There was a period of time the office was entirely still. A stark contrast to the last time Anakin was here. Shadows lurked at the corners of the room, no sunset, just night.

The city outside those windows was alive and bustling. Filled with all manner of sentients. And below them? In the undercity were the Coruscanti lying, scheming, and cheating their way through life. All the while, the rich and notable lived atop, unaware of the lives of any but their own.

That dichotomy was Coruscant. That dichotomy was the Republic. And though Anakin feared it wasn’t the case, that dichotomy was the galaxy.

“I told you before that I’ve seen you as something akin to a son. I had always hoped you would grow to trust me. I’ve always seen something of myself in you.”

Something of himself, Anakin thought. It was perhaps one of the greatest compliments Anakin had received.

“I’ve never truly trusted the Jedi.” Palpatine seemed truly somber now. “The things they’ve done for generations...only now do I see it.”

The mood of the room changed drastically again, and Anakin was thrown into the deep end.

“See what?”

“With Dooku dead, they must make their move. It will not be long before they take the Senate and oust—”

“Take the Senate? The Jedi serve the Republic!”

“Do they?” He was staring intensely at Anakin now. “Do they serve the Republic? Or do they serve themselves? If the Republic made a decision that went against the tenants of their sacred order, would they sit around and wait, or would they interfere? As they have always done.”

“I don’t understand—”

“No, that is obvious. Have you not seen what the Senators have been doing? Those that have allied and met with traitors behind our backs? Senator Amidala seemingly told you that she was my political opponent. That she didn’t trust me.”

Padme...?

“Allied with traitors?”

“Yes, the Jedi. They have met with senators to attempt to form a coalition against me. To take control of the Senate. To take control of the Republic.”

“She...Padme never told—”

“Of course, she wouldn’t Anakin. But tell me you haven’t sensed something like that.”

He hadn’t... had he?

“Was there never a time she avoided your questions? Seemingly pried for information no senator should know?”

“No...I—”

“I think you have. But you don’t want to admit it. That by betraying me. By betraying the Republic. She is betraying you. All the Jedi are.”

“She...” Anakin felt like he was drowning. He put a hand to his head to ease the dizziness. When was the last time he had eaten? He couldn’t remember. It was probably the last time he had slept. “She would never...”

“Of course, she would, my boy. It is simply politics is it not?”

What had Padme said? Chancellor Palpatine is my friend, but he’s also one of my biggest political opponents. That’s just politics. Padme said.

“There is no reason you two can’t still be happy together.”

“What—” The room seemed to darken even more than it already was. “What do you mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean, Anakin. Let us not play games any longer. I have known for a considerable amount of time. I have always known. I let you keep your secret for comfort.”

Anakin grabbed the edges of his chair. “What—What do you know?”

“Anakin, do you think I am stupid? I am from Naboo. I have seen you and her dance around each other for as long as I have known you both. She was my Queen. I represented her to the Senate. Do you think me not suited enough to politics to see past a deception?”

“You—” Palpatine had known? The room seemed to squeeze around him. Nothing made sense anymore. “You said she has betrayed us—”

“That, my boy,” Palpatine said, “is entirely up to you.”

Anakin’s vision tunneled around him, focused entirely upon Palpatine. Dark shadows seemed to crest around him.

Palpatine’s voice seemed very far away when he spoke. “You look quite unwell, my boy. Would you like something to drink?”

“I—No, I’m alright. Just a little tired is all.”

“Not sleeping well?”

“No. I don’t think I’ve slept well since before the war began.”

“I quite understand that.” Palpatine rose and walked around the desk—standing a little to the side of Anakin—and leaned against the desk. “Anakin, we must stop pretending with each other. The final pieces are starting to connect. We must be completely honest with each other. No lies or mistruths. You must understand the very galaxy itself is in the balance.”

“I—”

“Anakin, what you say to me will never leave these walls. I promise that whatever is said I will keep. You do not need to fear repercussion from the Jedi on account of me. Anakin, have you ever had reason to doubt me? Have I ever led you astray? You have been able to trust my guidance at every turn throughout your life. I have seen in you what the Jedi, what your Master always failed to see.”

He stood straight now, ticking his fingers. “I have known about your marriage to Padme. You trusted me with the knowledge of your slaughter of the Sand People. Your attachments that fly in the face of the Jedi. You have never needed any reason to pretend when you are with me.”

Palpatine opened his arms out wide, as if preparing for a hug. “Tell me anything Anakin. Share with me your troubles. There is no need to pretend. To act as if you are perfect. Let yourself go, my boy.”

Anakin sighed. Isn’t this what he wanted? To not be the perfect Jedi? The chosen one that everyone wanted him to be. Even Padme expected something of him... didn’t she?

“I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“It’s quite simple Anakin. Tell me what you want.”

Anakin was confused. “I don’t understand.”

“Of course, you don’t. The Jedi never taught you to think. Never taught you to want. They have always treated you as a slave. They have always told you what you were supposed to want. Never let you make any decisions for yourself. After being freed from slavery, the first thing they wanted you to do was call them master. They didn’t trust you because you loved your mother. Who they left on Tattooine as a slave. If they hadn’t done that, she might still be alive. No Jedi understands what they want. They are taught—brainwashed—from the moment they are taken from their families to not know what they want. You’re different. You had a life outside the Jedi, outside their doctrine. What do you want?”

“I still don’t understand.”

“Anakin. I would give you anything. I told you that before, didn’t I? It’s simple.” Palpatine said. “Ask for anything and it’s yours. A glass of water? A bag full of kyber crystals? Yours. Look out the window Anakin, point at anything, and it’s yours.”

“Are you joking?”

“The time for jokes has long past Anakin. I have never been more serious.” Beneath the darkness that shadowed Palpatine’s face, his eyes were like twin burning suns. Blazing out, beseeching him. “Pick anything. It’s yours.”

Anakin stood. “All right...” Anakin said walking over and looking out the window, not quite understanding. He looked for the most expensive thing he could see. “I’ll have one of those custom new SoroSub Speeders—”

“Done.”

“Do you know how much those cost? You could fully outfit a battle cruiser—”

“Would you prefer a battle cruiser?”

Anakin went perfectly still. The Dragon within his chest was silent.

“What about the Senatorial Apartments.”

“A single apartment?”

Anakin shook his head. His thoughts were drifting, his chest filled with ice. “No, the entire building.”

Palpatine didn’t blink. “Done.”

“It’s privately owned.”

“Not anymore.”

“You can’t—”

“Yes, I can. It’s yours. Is there anything else you want? Anything at all?”

Anakin gazed blankly at the sky. Looked up at the constellations that filled the night sky. “What about Corellia?”

“The planet...or the entire system?”

Anakin could barely breath.

“Anakin?”

“I can’t understand if this is some kind of joke.”

“I am deadly serious. I am trying to impress upon you something. Something I want...need...you to understand. I will give you anything.”

“What if I really wanted Corellia.”

“Then it’d be yours. I would give you the entire sector if you like. Do you understand now? Anything?”

It left Anakin dizzier than he already was. “What if I betrayed you. What if I wanted the war to end?”

“Would tomorrow be too soon?”

“How—” Anakin sat down again. “How could you do that.”

“We aren’t talking about how right now. We’ll get to that soon. We’re talking about what you want.”

The shadows around the room sharpened. All Anakin could see was Palpatine’s eyes. Boring into him.

“What would you want in exchange?”

“I’d want you to do what you want.”

“What I want?”

“Yes. The Jedi have never allowed you to think for yourself. You’ve been hampered and dragged down at every turn. I want you to think for yourself. That is all I ask. All I require in exchange. Do what you think is right. Not what the Jedi have made you believe. You’ve dreamt of leaving the Order for Padme. Do it. Have a family of your own. Based on love not on rules.”

“I...I can’t just leave.”

“Can’t you?”

Anakin couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t think.

“You can have all of your dreams. Leave the Order. Become my student. My apprentice. Follow me on the path to power. To save those you love.”

“The Dark Side is a pathway to many abilities. Those that can save ones you care about from dying. Those that can save Padme. I know the key to keeping those from dying. Like my master before taught me.”

The puzzle pieces finally fit together. Without even understanding what he was doing. Acting purely on instinct. A bar of blue energy appeared before the Chancellor, casting light onto his face, distorting the shadows around the room. Anakin barely registered the lightsaber in his hands. Barely registered he was suddenly standing again.

“It’s you.” Suddenly Anakin was no longer dizzy. No longer tired. Everything was hyper focused. It all made sense. “It’s been you all along.”

From the light of the blue blade, Anakin stared at the fight of the man who had mentored him. The one who had looked after him kindly since he was nine years old. The same man who had a kindly-grandfatherly smile upon his face. A face he could barely even begin to recognize.

It was a mask. A lie. A trick. Padme’s words rung in his ears for the second time. He’s not quite a dictator, but he certainly has a lot of power.

Power.

“I should kill you.”

The smile never left his face. Alien as it was to Anakin. “For what exactly?”

“You’re a Sith Lord.”

“Yes. I am also your friend.”

Anakin’s lightsaber wavered.

“I have been for you on every single occasion throughout your life. I have never sought to manipulate you. I told you that I felt for you like a son. Do you remember that? It’s true. I have never wanted a single thing from you Anakin. Think back on that. Not once in your entire life have I ever asked you for anything...”

He seemed entirely unconcerned with the lightsaber at his neck. “...Until tonight. I’ve asked you to do what you want. I would give you anything Anakin. And if that means that you are going to...murder me over...ideological differences...than I will let you.”

He opened his hands at his sides. “When I told you I’d give you anything, my boy, did you think that didn’t include my own life?”

The rooms swirled and closed around him. The very air seemed to seep with confusion and doubt.

“You’ll just let me do it? You won’t even fight?”

Palpatine looked astonished. “Fight you? No, you only have to think about what will happen once I’m gone. What will happen to the Republic? What will happen to Padme...?”

“Padme...”

“She has aligned herself with traitors and liars. What do you think will happen to her when I am gone?”

“I... I don’t know what to do.”

“As I’ve told you before Anakin, do what you want. What you desire most. I’d do anything for you. I’m not evil, not like the Jedi have told you. I’ve only exposed and attempted to correct the galaxy for what it is. This war is regrettable, but I can tell you with certainty. Count Dooku was never my apprentice.”

The blue light flickered.

The Jedi started this war all on their own. To take control. I’ve done what I could to keep power from their hands. Wrest the control of the military away from them. What could we do with a united galaxy? A safe and secure society. We could end poverty, correct injustice. We could end slavery. Make sure what happened to you and your mother never happens again.

“I—”

Palpatine moved away from the desk suddenly, Anakin’s blade following as Palpatine turned his back. “The Sith are not what the Jedi have lied to you about. There are dangers to using the Dark Side that only those strong and powerful enough can manage. I know that you are strong enough for it.”

Palpatine didn’t turn around. Left his back for Anakin, if he chose. “My Master, Darth Plagueis, fashioned a way to keep people from dying. It works on those who aren’t force sensitive. You could protect Padme from death. You need not live in fear any longer.”

He turned completely around, arms spread wide, an offering. “My cards are all out on the table Anakin. With Dooku dead, the Jedi will be moving forward swiftly now. We can end this war, end the plot to overthrow the Republic. Leave the Order. Be with Padme. With you at my side, nothing would be able to stop us.”

Palpatine’s face was unreadable. His eyes twin stars that stared into Anakin’s very soul. “I would be honored, if you would join me Anakin.”

Chapter Text

A blue crystal, sparking with vibrant energy powers a complicated and intricate system of metal and electronics. Hand-crafted, hand-assembled, the mechanism draws on the crystal creating a closed system with power more vibrant than the nearest star. The crystal itself is nigh unbreakable, but the crystal does not act alone.

It is wielded. The crystal’s energy is funneled into a single point, before jettisoned out an emitter, creating a long blade of bright blue light. The blade can slice through nearly anything and can be wielded only by the most trained and precise.

But while the crystal remains unbroken, its wielder does not.

“Please, Anakin, I beg you. Use my knowledge.”

The Sith Lord seems almost genuine in this at least. He is desperate, even Anakin can see that. But Anakin can barely think.

“Anakin, I love you. You can trust me. More than you could ever trust the Jedi Council. For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve sought to become more than just an ordinary Jedi. You’ve become powerful...strong...in the force. Learning from me is simply the next step.”

Palpatine took a step forward; stepped forward towards the blade held before him. Anakin can’t help but think Palpatine is the one actually holding the blade. He wouldn’t be able to swing if he wanted to.

Did he not want to?

Palpatine’s face looked at Anakin, full of love.

Was this just another mask? The same lies Palpatine had been telling him since his arrival on Coruscant?

But what if it wasn’t a mask? Wasn’t a lie. If Palpatine hasn’t been behind the Clone Wars—

“Anakin...let’s talk.”

There had once been a time when roaming the Jedi Temple at night had been a rare occasion for Obi-Wan. When he had been a youngling, there had always been better things to do once the sun went down...namely sleep. And by the time he had been a Padawan, Qui-Gon had never been terribly fond of the Jedi Temple or Coruscant in general.

Much of his time as a Padawan was spent in the far reaches on the galaxy. Learning on the fly had been Qui-Gon’s preferred teaching method. And while Obi-Wan had always taken the Council’s thoughts in mind, had obeyed the rules to the letter, Qui-Gon had been nearly the opposite.

That difference of opinion with his old master had been what made them such a great team. Willingness to follow the rules when needed, while thinking outside the box and following the force on most occasions.

Obi-Wan would’ve liked to think that similar dynamic worked with Anakin, though he’d be deceiving himself. Anakin was reckless, followed the whims of what he wanted, was passionate, and was caring above nearly all else...but he was no Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon had been a gentle soul. Anakin most certainly was not. He’d never managed to quite get control of his emotions as a padawan.

That was precisely why Obi-Wan was worried for his former padawan.

And that, was why he was wandering the halls of the Jedi Temple with Master Windu and Master Yoda. Master Tiin had joined them along the way, all similarly awake, with concerns about Anakin.

“I agree with Obi-Wan; Skywalker did not seem off when I spoke to him after his defeat of Dooku. I do not think he would have dipped into the Dark Side to do such a thing. I am aware however, that Skywalker has a tendency to use his emotions in battle for stronger results.”

Obi-Wan rubbed his beard somewhat unconsciously. “I am not exactly comfortable with the fact that the Chancellor requested a private meeting with Anakin earlier this evening. Whatever issues he’s struggling with, he hasn’t shared them with me. I am uncomfortable with him sharing them with the Chancellor.”

This seemed to surprise Mace. “I too have become wary of the Supreme Chancellor. The Jedi serve the Republic, not a single man. His control over the Senate is worrying. If he is trying to use Skywalker as a spy into the Jedi—”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “What would that gain him? Anakin does not sit on the council. If the Chancellor has been grooming Anakin as a spy, that plan has not quite reached fruition.”

“No. Not for a good time yet.”

“Dangerous, this line of thought can become. Walk right into a trap, we may be. Mistrust our allies, this Sidious wishes.”

“Yes, I quite agree,” Saesee Tiin’s deep voice cut into the discussion, “if Master Fisto manages to apprehend General Grievous, Palpatine must cede his emergency powers. He has long passed his maximum two terms. I just received word. Master Fisto has arrived on what he believes is General Grievous’ lair. The war may end tonight.”

All the masters were silent for a moment. In less than a galactic week, the war may go from its height to its end.

Windu’s eyes glowed nearly imperceptibly for a moment. A quick movement of the force in the room, as if a gust of air pushed it’s was towards Mace.

Mace’s words were ice cold. “There is a chance the war might end. There is a chance the war might end tonight.”

He did not seem relieved by that revelation. As if the Force hadn’t told him how the war would end...hadn’t told him who would win.

He continued. “I sense a plot to destroy the Jedi. Shatterpoints in the force are spread out like glass all around me. On this moment. On these next moments.”

Goosebumps spread across Obi-Wan’s body at those words. Every single action mattered.

“Ready, we must be. Grave news, we have yet to receive.”

No. He would be getting no sleep tonight.

Anakin doesn’t remember turning off his lightsaber and clipping it to his belt. He doesn’t remember moving away from Palpatine and sitting down in a chair. He doesn’t remember being poured a glass of water, nor drinking the entire thing dry.

All he remembers is the lie.

He remembers the mask that Palpatine has worn the entire time Anakin has known him. Every deception and holding of the truth.

The worst part is he isn’t even mad about it.

He can’t be mad about anything. After all...

“How can you blame me for lying after the things you’ve withheld from me?”

Palpatine is standing directly in front of the chair Anakin sits in. Anakin has to bend his neck to look up. Anakin can’t see anything else. No lights. No skyline, no sculptures, paintings, or art pieces. Palpatine dominates his vision.

“I apologize for withholding the truth. But you must understand, how desperate I have been to tell you. I have waited—long have I waited—your entire life, to tell you this. Ever since I met you, before I met you, I have been looking for you.”

All Anakin had ever wanted was to be wanted. Not for what he did for others. Not for the value he was worth. Like a slave, who’s own worth was their value to a master. He didn’t want to be...

“The chosen one” he whispered.

“Yes. Yes, you are the chosen one. Chosen by me.”

“What— you don’t mean—”

“Yes...you were chosen by me. Did you ever find it strange how a Jedi Master, with his desperate mission to save the Queen, ended up on such a worthless planet? How they found you?”

“No—”

“Yes. Why was Darth Maul on Tattooine? You said your mother...your mother said that there was no father, right? How it was the will of the Force itself.”

“Please no—”

“Darth Plagueis could stop the ones he loved from dying. But he could also influence the Force and create...life.”

“No!” Anakin was shaking. Where was he? Why wasn’t he safe? What did he do wrong?

“I. Chose. You. Anakin. Out of all the creatures in the galaxy. Billions on Coruscant, quadrillions across all the stars, I chose you. How lucky you are! The entire wealth of knowledge of the Sith. All the power you will inherit. You are my heir, Anakin. The Sith created you, you were meant to be the next one in line.”

It was just a dream. It was just a dream. It was just a dream!

“I made you. You are mine.”

‘My miracle child,’ Shmi cooed. Anakin had been crying, kept awake by nightmares of the slave master they had before Watto. Watto was awful...but Gardulla was evil. She had beat him, “I know, my son. It’s ok, you’re safe, you’re alright. It’s just a dream. It’s just a dream.”

Anakin was crying. Crying in front of a Sith Lord. And the Sith Lord sat there, smiling.

“I have to GO— I... I’m going to turn you in to the Jedi Council.”

“Yes. Yes, you probably should. It is in their best interest of course. Before you leave Anakin, remember, there will come a time when you must choose who you trust. Who will you betray? The Republic? Or the Jedi?”

Anakin couldn’t think. He could barely stand.

Watching that broken creature leave was one of the most enjoyable things Darth Sidious had ever seen.

He’d broken hundreds of sentients. Torn them apart from the inside, simply by using words and deception. Force sensitives and the weak alike, none had been able to stand against Sidious for long.

But there was a certain level of enjoyment, of pleasure even, in seeing a long-laid plan come to completion. The years he had put into this boy. The power that same boy held, unsure of how to truly use it. Wasted with the Jedi.

It was even revenge if you looked at it from a certain perspective. Why, Anakin had decided to kill his apprentice too soon. It was only fair to move things forward.

The smile on his face fell quickly into a frown. It was always going to come to these next few moments. No matter whether it was now or years from now, he would have to face the Jedi.

If he had been able to choose, he would have chosen not to face Master Yoda, Windu, and Kenobi alone. He was standing in the eye of the storm, before the most dangerous moments in his plan.

It was time to prepare for a fight.

Arrangement of furniture in precise locations. Sculptures and heavy objects arranged to fall with just a twinge of the Force. The window was perhaps the most enticing spot in the entire office.

Kenobi was a master of the defensive lightsaber form Soresu. A form of the weak it may be, it would give Kenobi benefit in a fight with numbers. Separate him from the others, then force him to attack.

Yoda was weak with a lightsaber. A powerful practitioner of the Force and the oldest member of the Jedi, he was dangerous. Stay close to the other Jedi to block his attacks. Throw objects at his allies and force him to defend.

Windu...was a problem. Darth Sidious had never dueled a true master of Vapaad. It was perhaps the perfect form to fight the regular Sith with. Darth Sidious was not a regular Sith. Pour emotions into the Force, use the Dark Side to duel every Master.

Windu must be the last one. Anakin would be back. Seeing Windu threatening the poor, defenseless Chancellor, would entice his future apprentice enough.

Anakin’s fear and anguish were a beacon in the Force itself. It tasted sweet and forbidden. Soon, he would turn that to anger.

There was little time to plan for every eventuality...but there was time enough to implicate the Jedi even in this. The most powerful and just members of the Jedi Council, here to assassinate the Chancellor of the Republic.

Sidious was not a fool. There was a chance for death here, unlikely though it was. So he did what he did best. Devised the best possible outcome in every situation. Even in the case of his death, the Jedi would be ruined. Public perception crushed, Anakin left to the wayside and possibly even expelled.

It was only a matter of time before Order 66 was enacted whether he lived or died. That, at least, would be enough for him.

And when Anakin was expelled from the Order, drifting in hate and the Dark Side...well, it was only a matter of time before his final plan came to fruition.

Death was never the end for a Sith was it?

It was done. Everything was in place, every piece ready for its part. He could not lose.

Just a whisper in the force was enough to give Windu a grave feeling. Barely a premonition.

Whatever had kept four members of the Jedi Council awake and wandering the halls of the temple was fast approaching now...and it was approaching in the form of one Anakin Skywalker.

Windu could feel the roiling maelstrom that was Skywalker. A beast lay within Skywalker. The same one Mace always sensed and saw in his shatterpoints of Skywalker. The beast was still there...but it was different. Changed. It was afraid.

Opening himself up to the Force, Mace observed the telltale crisscross of lines and shapes that showed Shatterpoints. Visions, pieces, glimpses of the future. Or a possible future at least.

Coruscant was filled with trillions of creatures, the lines spread and expanded in every direction and ever way. Confusing to some, if they could see them, but Mace was well-versed in navigating the storm.

Grandmaster Yoda and Kenobi tensed next to him. Sensing as well, the approach of Skywalker.

Mace cast his eyes towards the direction a yellow speeder jetting from lane to lane before using restricted Military lanes to approach the temple as fast as possible.

That is when Mace saw it.

He could barely recognize what he was seeing from this far...but it was massive. It dwarfed every surrounding line and shard. Dwarfed every shatterpoint. It overwhelmed the senses.

By the time Windu had even realized what he was looking at, it had already landed, jumping out of the speeder, and headed straight for him.

Confusion led way to shock as it coursed through him. This massive shatterpoint...this divide in the future...it was Anakin.

Not just a possible future. The future. All futures. This shatterpoint that decided all other shatterpoints.

Anakin sat there breathing heavily. He was in shock, confused, and downright terrified. What could have done this?

What had eaten the very inside of Skywalker’s being? Chewed it up and spit it out full of bite-marks and dark whispers in the force.

The Dark Side seemed to cling to Anakin’s being. Not coming from within, but from outside influence.

Mace’s hand flexed towards where his lightsaber lay, attached to his utility belt. He prevented the automatic reaction.

Everything in him told him that what stood before him was a threat...and yet. And yet, Anakin looked so weak. Weaker than Mace Windu could ever remember seeing. Not even when Skywalker was a boy of nine years, afraid, standing before a council ready to decide his very fate. Weak and afraid. But not terrified.

Kenobi broke the silence first, “Anakin, what happened to you?” His voice held more emotion than Windu had ever heard. It wasn’t exactly the time or place to address that now.

Anakin attempted to put himself together before their eyes. Saesee Tiin narrowed his eyes at Anakin, instinctively reaching for his saber as well.

With the death of Dooku, everyone was on edge for the Dark Side to lash out.

“I— Force—” Anakin said.

Something was gravely wrong. The force seemed to cry out in pain.

Anakin’s voice was raw. “Chancellor Palpatine is the Sith Lord.”

Mace’s vision exploded as the shatterpoint, Anakin, seemed to split and fracture into infinite pieces before his eyes. He stopped looking into the force to save his eyes.

“What!?” Kenobi exclaimed.

“I— He’s the Sith Lord. He called me to his office...revealed it to me. Just now.”

‘Grave news, we have yet to receive,’ Yoda had said. Kriff.

Mace cast his mind into the Force and the answer did not hide from him. To call it a dark presence would be a misnomer. There was a void where the Coruscant Executive Building rested.

Anakin Skywalker had found the Sith Lord. Or, he corrected, the Sith Lord had found Anakin.

Anakin looked like he was a dead man standing. There were bags nested underneath his eyes, skin pale, taking deep breaths, as if he couldn’t get enough air.

“Breathe, Skywalker. Master Kenobi, Master Tiin, call a LAAT. Let us visit the Supreme Chancellor,” Mace said. He glanced at Anakin, who still looked somewhat despondent, “Master Yoda, what do you recommend?”

Kenobi and Tiin ran off to fetch one of the LAAT’s lent to the Jedi Temple for the war effort.

Yoda’s green face retained the shock from Skywalker’s announcement for only a moment longer, before he reigned in his facial expression. Yoda’s presence in the force quieted to its usual calm.

“Careful, we must be. A trap with grave consequences, this Sith Lord has created.”

Inside, Mace’s emotions were roiling just beneath the surface. The dark, ever present, roared to be let out and consume him. How was he supposed to face a Sith Lord without falling to the darkness?

He may be the Master of the Order, but he was not conceited enough to believe that his struggle with the dark had ended when he’d become a Jedi Master.

“Anakin. I need you to focus. Is there anything else you can tell us about this Sith Lord?”

“He— Palpatine wanted me as his apprentice. He said—,” Anakin’s voice cracked, “he said he had chosen me,” Anakin responded brokenly.

“Does he have a lightsaber? Any weapons? How did you get away?”

“He just...let me go. I had my lightsaber up to his throat. I could have killed him—I should have killed him-but I did nothing. He never even drew a weapon.” Anakin was looking down at his open palms, questioning...everything.

“We will have to speak on this later. We must confront this Sith Lord while we still have the ability to do so. Before he flees.”

“I don’t think I can go back...”

“You won’t have to. In fact, you won’t be going back. You will be staying here until we return.”

The roar of LAAT engines as they approached the temple entrance grew loud and pronounced. Master Kenobi and Tiin were waiting with a squad of clone troopers.

Anakin’s blue eyes were filled with emotion. Fear, sadness, anger, guilt, and a roiling self-despair.

“Master...what are you going to do?”

Mace sighed. “What I must.”

Obi-Wan had walked these halls more times than he could count. Whether it be on special orders and debriefs to the Chancellor or various Senators regarding the war or, more often, picking up Anakin from his talks and sessions with Palpatine.

Palpatine. The Sith Lord.

He had been a fool not to listen to Dooku over a year ago on Geonosis. He had admitted that the Republic was influenced and controlled by a Sith Lord, Sidious, and Kenobi had dismissed it as another of Dooku’s lies.

By the time Geonosis was over, there was little time to confront the fact of what Dooku said. Little time to question how all the pieces connected. How a bounty hunter in league with Dooku created the Clone Army... how the war always felt wrong.

Obi-Wan had always felt that the Chancellor was slightly off-putting, but even he would never have thought the Chancellor was anything more than an opportunist, a politician.

It was why he hated politics. Guises and masks of friends and companions who all wish something from you. Meetings and conversations with hidden subtext.

Obi-Wan was good at politics. But...he hated them, nonetheless. He could weave words around any foe for any period of time, he had gotten his moniker The Negotiator for a reason, you see, and had a capital ship named after him to prove it.

He had debated generals of opposing armies. Stopped onslaughts, massacres, and even entire wars with words alone.

And yet.

This was why he hated politics.

It would seem that the Sith loved them.

Well, Obi-wan thought, we will be doing little politics tonight.

A dark mood had set in over each of the four masters as they approached the Chancellor’s public offices. A malignant force seemed to be resting ever ahead of them. The shadows deeper and darker than they otherwise should be.

The Dark was intoxicating here. Seeping into ever surface, attempting to burrow its way into every pore of his body. It stroked his fear, his anger, even his hate.

For yes, right now, Obi-Wan held hate in his heart. He had attempted to release it into the Force to no avail.

The Sith had been manipulating Anakin.

Anakin was strong in the Force. Perhaps, by this point, much more powerful than Obi-Wan was. He was certainly more skilled in raw lightsaber combat. The only reason why Obi-Wan could hold his own anymore in their spars was intense knowledge of Anakin’s fighting style. It wouldn’t be long before Anakin surpassed him in every way except one.

Anakin felt emotion intensely. He found it hard to release those emotions into the Force and could find himself reacting out of emotion rather than reason.

And this Sith had been manipulating that since he was nine years old.

So yes, Obi-Wan hated one thing, and one thing only.

He hated this Sith Master. And Obi-Wan would kill him for it.

Mace came to a stop at the next intersection. One turn, and they would reach the public offices. Obi-Wan could feel Palpatine. There was no mistaking anymore.

There was still that sharp intellect Palpatine released into the Force, along with much more. Now, there was a noxious hate intertwined into Palpatine’s presence. It was so dark as to be non-existent. An abyss that took everything in and gave nothing back. Palpatine’s very existence ate at the world around it. Consuming the force itself.

Mace spoke. “You all feel his presence ahead. Be very careful. There is no time for talk, no time for anything. If he trained both Maul and Dooku he will be an accomplished swordsman. There is little need to mention his ability to play mind-games and acumen with the Force. Show no mercy, do what needs to be done.”

Obi-Wan and Master Tiin nodded.

Yoda seemed slightly concerned at that, but it seemed the threat was too great, for his ears gave a twitch and his countenance became grave.

“For all the Jedi, we do this. For all the people,” Master Tiin whispered.

A nudge in the Force. It said things will never be the same.

They all felt it. It did not make them feel better for what they were about to do.

If these were to be his last moments, he’d like to have something to say at least. “Well, let’s go commit treason, shall we?” There was no humor in his voice.

Commit treason they did.

These final moments made Sidious smile. He could feel the anger dripping off these Jedi just as much as their righteous determination.

He will make sure to thank Anakin after this is all over. A betrayal this early into their relationship was delicious.

This would be fun.

Righteous anger burned in Mace’s chest. There were many secrets he held closely as Grandmaster of the Jedi Order. He held secrets of the force, holocrons, knowledge, and other secret information.

Even within himself, he held the anger and passion that spoke of the Dark Side, kept firmly at bay for use only within battle. The secret technique of which only he had ever truly mastered.

There was another secret though. Unrelated to his role as Grandmaster, or his techniques in the Force. A secret he was not entirely proud to admit.

Mace Windu loved the Republic too much. Whether it was because of the Jedi Order’s attachment to the Republic at the hip or Mace’s own ideals and beliefs that tethered him to the Republic, he didn’t know.

But what he did know, is that the Republic was led by a Sith. A Sith that wished to destroy all that the Jedi Order stood for. Palpatine’s plan had become quite clear with all the cards out on the table.

Use the chaos of the war to centralize powers to a sole figure of authority. Even now, there is little you could do to politically take down the Chancellor with his emergency powers. The only way was for him to step down.

If there was one truth the Jedi had learned over the past decade and the thousands of years of conflict before, it was this: The Sith never backed down.

Chancellor Palpatine must die.

And if Mace must be the instrument of his destruction? He would take the task gladly.

The four masters strode past artifact and statue on the way to the Chancellor’s chambers. Paintings and tapestry of old battles, some with distinct reference to the wars between Jedi and Sith.

How had they been so blind? It was like the man was broadcasting his presence as a Sith in even his decorating choices.

Finally turning the corner, the door to Palpatine’s office was open. A high-backed chair turned to look towards the large, curved window that overlooked Coruscant. In it, sat Palapatine.

Mace led the procession into his office, and with firm resolve, lit his purple blade; three similar blades lit to meet his call.

Palpatine’s chair swiveled around to meet them.

In it, sat a monster. There was no genial smile or mask of a wise, yet peaceful man. This decrepit thing let off waves of dark energy into the Force. The smile on his face filled with teeth.

“By the power vested in me as Grandmaster of the Jedi Order, in accordance with the ancient Ruusan pacts, the Republic, and the Jedi themselves, charge you with crimes against this governance. You, my Lord, are under arrest.”

The Chancellor seemed unconcerned. “Ah yes, I knew that I needed to push the Criminal Reorganization Act forward. Very strange that the Jedi have the power to arrest the Supreme Chancellor. May I ask whatever for?”

Mace was not in the mood for wordplay with a Sith.

“For being a Sith. For crimes against the Republic and for orchestration of war and treason. If you do not surrender yourself, we will be forced to act.”

Palpatine’s smile turned decidedly sour. “Are you threatening me Master Jedi?”

“No. The Jedi Order still has the right and powers to apprehend Sith and deal with the appropriate punishment. This is a promise.”

“Ah,” something heavy and metallic dropped into the Chancellor’s hand, “It’s treason then.”

Quick as lightening a crimson blade jetted from the Sith Lord’s hand. Suddenly, a scream that was filled with dark energy and malice reverberated in the Force itself filled the room, concussing the Jedi.

Palpatine was a blur as he streaked through the air towards the four masters. Saesee Tiin was quick to raise his blade to meet the Sith while Mace attempted to recover. No sooner did he need to raise his own purple blade to protect himself from the veritable whirlwind of blows lashed upon him.

He could do little to ascertain the status of any of the other Masters, so focused on simply surviving this initial onslaught. A large, neuranium statue fell towards him, too heavy to attempt to block, he leapt back, aided by an additional force push.

Mace sensed a blow in the Force, life leaving a creature.

He looked over as Palpatine finished bisecting Master Tiin from head to groin with his blade, quickly turning and launching himself at Kenobi, who could do little but block.

Saesee Tiin was a master in lightsaber combat, yet the Ikotchi Master was felled in a four-on-one fight in less than thirty seconds.

Mace gave a glance towards Yoda, who had been similarly distracted—slammed into a wall across the room—before they both jumped in to help Kenobi.

Anakin hadn’t moved from where the councilors had left him. Obi-Wan, Yoda, Tiin, and Windu. What I must.

Were they going to kill the Chancellor?

Didn’t he deserve a trial? No matter his crimes, he was still the Chancellor of the Galactic Republic with all the benefits therein. Was this even legal?

All of Anakin’s fears and reservations towards the Jedi Order seemed to roil just below the surface.

‘The Jedi started this war all on their own’, Palpatine had said.

If Dooku wasn’t Palpatine’s apprentice...he was a Master of the Order on the council when he left, wasn’t he? When he left...when he left after Naboo.

When this war was set in motion. When the Jedi started to move and seek power.

When they had denied him for the power and emotion he held. Only Qui-Gon’s death had ensured his admittance.

Anakin didn’t know what to do.

Was this war the Jedi’s fault? Or the Sith? Or was it inevitable? Factions and planets with too much hate and corruption to stand for anything besides war. For profit.

What was the truth?

Would he ever even find out if Palpatine died? Would the Jedi really tell him?

He knew the Obi-Wan hid things from him for the, as Obi-Wan said, ‘benefit of the council and the Jedi Order as a whole.’

And all he could do was sit here, at the gates of the Jedi Temple.

A low hum permeated the air. The speeder he had come to the temple on was still running. It had Jedi Order codes that could get him through Coruscant traffic, using the military lanes.

He could get to the bottom of this. He could stop them from killing Palpatine outright.

Palpatine wasn’t even willing to fight when Anakin was ready to strike him down.

What did it all mean?

A tightness welled up inside his chest that he couldn’t seem to shake. It was late. He had barely slept in days. Too busy with the repercussions of Dooku’s death, and before that, traveling across the galaxy.

‘You could protect Padme from death’

Anakin resolved himself to act. He ran over to the still-running speeder, hopped in, and flew off into the Coruscant night.

Before this, Mace had been quite sure that Obi-Wan was one of the best practitioners of Soresu, the defensive lightsaber form, alive. Now, after having been saved more than twelve times in under five minutes by Kenobi alone, he was sure that Kenobi was the master of the lightsaber form. None alive could have survived the onslaught that was Palpatine, with only Soresu to cover their back. None except Kenobi.

Even with simultaneous attacks from Mace, Kenobi, and Yoda, Palpatine never seemed to tire or withdraw from his attacks. For a Sith Lord who had spent most of his time in machinations and deception, Mace had been hoping that his lightsaber skills were not kept up to the level of Jedi who actively fought in the war.

A false hope it would seem.

Mace could admit in his own mind that Palpatine was quick, elusive, and strong. Every strike of the crimson blade seemed to have more and more weight thrown behind it. As if the longer the battle went on, the stronger he got.

Palpatine was a veritable storm in the force. He grew stronger with each strike. The death of Tiin seemed to have strengthened him further.

A bolt of lightning came from Palpatine’s non-dominant hand towards Mace faster than he could react, but Yoda managed to catch it with his blade, jumping and rebounding off a nearby wall to intercept in time.

He reached out in the Force to his fellow masters. “Kenobi, you need to hold him still long enough for me to circle behind him.”

“I’m more than a little preoccupied at the moment!”

“Do you really think I am blind to the Force my friends? You cannot hide in the Force as you may want to Master Windu, that is my domain.” Palpatine’s voice had an unnatural resonating growl to it.

His very words seemed to burrow into Mace’s psyche, dredging up fear and frustration.

Palpatine cackled as he visibly strengthened from the fear.

“Every mistake you make. Every Jedi I kill. Every wound, every emotion, everything. Makes me stronger. By confronting me with the best of your Order, you have doomed yourselves. None will be able to protect you tonight.”

Mace shut Palpatine’s words out. There was nothing useful to be gained in listening to a Sith. There was no information or secrets Mace needed to know. Palpatine needed to die.

Palpatine whirled around, his single blade flying as if he had four, intercepting strikes and lashing out. He co-opted his attacks with pushes in the force, throwing statues, tables, and chairs to distract them.

Mace wanted to dip further into Vaapad, but with the other Masters involved, it was too dangerous to lose himself. Yoda’s lightsaber form was not benefited fighting with allies, Kenobi was only distracted by his fellow Jedi.

All of them were out of their element.

Obi-Wan fought as if he was waiting for Anakin’s aggressive form to attack. Yoda had drawn away from front-line lightsaber combat as the war drew on. Mace hadn’t fought an actual Sith.

If Anakin were here...

But he wasn’t in the right mind to fight his manipulator tonight.

But Mace was getting tired. He had light burns on both arms, cuts and burns in his robes. All it would take is one mistake and the balance would break.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Yoda flip and throw his lightsaber, intercepting a strike meant to slice Kenobi in half, before jumping towards the Sith Lord with a push of force.

The problem with using a force push towards a Sith Lord engaged with Kenobi and Mace was that it was indiscriminate.

Mace caught himself in time, using the Force to push him towards the floor, keeping himself upright. Kenobi, however, was too busy keeping himself alive. He was pushed back towards the door, away from the fight.

Mace used the opportunity to press the attack on Palpatine. Pushing him further towards the window. He gave a glance to Yoda, his once-master, hoping he understood the plan.

Mace’s purple lightsaber became an onslaught as he could do more than just protect Kenobi, pushing Palpatine further and further back with pure force and raw aggression.

Palpatine smiled a toothy grin as Mace felt himself get close to the edge of falling. It was so easy to feel anger and hatred for this monster.

In the space of ten seconds since Yoda’s force-push, Mace had backed Palpatine towards the window. Giving a signal to Yoda, he arced his saber up in a heavy strike, hoping Palpatine’s focus would be on distributing the energy of his attack and not on Yoda leaping through the air above him.

As if in slow motion, Mace watched Palpatine sidestep the attack as if he knew it was coming. He watched as Yoda’s jump went from a controlled jump into a helpless tumble. He watched as Palpatine’s grin filled with more malice and hatred than he had seen any one being show.

Right before he pushed Yoda right out the window he stood with his back to.

Palpatine launched himself at Mace again, without the protection of Yoda. Yoda, who was falling miles to the city below.

He couldn’t even check if Kenobi was coming to help, such was the attention needed to survive. The Dark Side grew stronger as another beacon of light left the battle.

They’d have to kill Palpatine soon if they wanted the Republic to live.

There were few times in her life that Padme had felt as if she were entirely overwhelmed.

When she had been elected Queen of Naboo, when she had learned of the Trade Federation invasion of her home, when she had been asked to be Naboo’s senator, and when she had fallen for Anakin.

She had spent so much of her life quite in control of her emotions. In control of her thoughts. Training as queen had quickly taught her the face of passiveness. The ability to think and pace oneself as they received shocking information.

This, it seemed, would be another one of those times.

She had been up in her nightgown preparing for bed. For whatever reason, she hadn’t been able to sleep and so had made some tea to ease whatever was keeping her awake. Every time she closed her eyes, she got the feeling that something was wrong.

She had just been cleaning her cup when Anakin arrived.

he had landed on her balcony in his speeder, leapt out and swept her up in his arms. This hadn’t been surprising. Strange, seeing as he had usually done so after long stays in the war, but not overly surprising.

What was surprising was that he was shaking. It took Padme a moment to realize he was crying.

Padme had never had any reservations with the fact that Anakin was a very emotional partner. He felt stronger than most people ever would. It was a mixture of his upbringing, his abilities, and his personality.

But she had only ever seen him cry a few times. When his mother had died, when Padme had told him she’d had a miscarriage a year ago...and now.

“Ani. It’s okay Ani. It’s okay. I’m here. I’m here,” she soothed.

Rubbing circles into his back as he sat and sobbed into her shoulder, she did her best to ease whatever was going on.

He let out another sob, saying something muffed into her skin.

“Shhhhhh,” she shushed, “it’s okay, Ani.”

She got the feeling that something was very wrong.

They sat there for a while, as he sobbed, then cried, before he was only sniffling and breathing heavily.

She squeezed him tightly in her arms, before backing up to look him in the eyes. They were bloodshot and red. He had been crying, obviously, but there was something more in his eyes. They just looked empty. Not filled with life and passion as he always seemed to.

He looked like a dead man walking.

“Earlier tonight, when we spoke at dinner, you told me...you told me that Palpatine wanted power.”

“Ani, is this what has you worked up? I know he’s a mentor and confidante of yours...but it’s strange.”

Anakin’s eyes seemed to search her. That wasn’t the underlying problem, she thought. No, something had happened.

“Palpatine just revealed his plans to me,” Anakin seemed crushed by the weight of his words, “he was the Sith Lord we’ve been looking for. And he wants me as an apprentice.”

Shock coursed through Padme’s body. A power-hungry politician, yes. But a Sith Lord? The enemy of the Jedi?

“Ani I— C-3PO! Call Ahsoka, get her here as fast as possible, tell her it’s urgent.”

“Padme—”

“No,” she interrupted, “I need help with this, you need help with this. I believe you Anakin, now it’s time to figure out what to do.”

Padme’s mind set into rigid action. There was an enemy that had revealed itself. An enemy that had lied and deceived her since she took office as Queen. Her former adviser and great confidante. And more than that, someone who hurt Anakin.

“Okay,” she gave him an imperious look, “have you told the Council yet?”

“That’s the first thing I did...well, the first thing once I got out of there.”

She saw the shadows in his eyes. The hurt, the deep wound that Palpatine, this Sith, had inflicted upon him. He didn’t trust himself.

“Anakin. Look at me.” He looked. “Do you trust me?”

“Padme, you know I do.”

“Good. What did he offer you? I know he must have offered you something to be this conflicted.”

Anakin looked barely alive. “He said he’d save your life. Keep you safe. That the Jedi had planned a coup to dethrone him and take over the Republic. He said that you’d betrayed me but could still be saved.”

Padme could nearly see the hooks that Palpatine had strung Anakin up with. He had taken the young hero-worship of a nine-year-old child and twisted it to his own agenda. Anakin didn’t even know himself.

“Do you think I would ever stand for a coup? An overthrow of the government?”

Anakin shook his head.

“It’s preposterous. Palpatine is manipulating you by going through the people you love. Through Obi-Wan, the Jedi, and through me.”

He only seemed slightly reassured by this. “The Jedi are on their way to confront him now. Take him from office.”

“What!? Are they trying to give more legitimacy to him? What has gotten into the council.”

Anakin finally seemed to gain some life in him. Fire and indignation burned in his eyes. “Nothing. They’ve been like this for a long time.”

His words seemed to burn with purpose and challenge to them. Deeper, and slightly more sinister.

“Anakin, stop. You’re scaring me.”

The feeling disappeared as fast at it appeared, taking Anakin’s fire and indignation with it. He collapsed in on himself.

“Sorry, love. I— I don’t know what to do.”

Padme took a moment. “Here’s what you’re going to do. Who went to confront Palpatine?”

“Obi-Wan, Master Yoda, Master Windu, and Master Tiin.”

“Alright. They are excellent Jedi. What you are going to do is sit right here and stay with me. We’re going to wait for Ahsoka to get here and then we’re going to talk. I think it’s long past time we had an important discussion.”

“I know.”

His head dipped, he was look at his hands again, as if they were covered in blood.

“Ani,” she reached up and lifted his chin, meeting his eyes, “I trust you. I love you,” she spoke in Naboo, “Le meluvan úne ar alye lúmessen tenna nurucilie.”

The same words she spoke over Anakin on their wedding day. Every time she had spoken them since it had filled him with relief. It had calmed him.

It did little to calm him now. Padme could see it now. The edge that Anakin was so precariously placed on. Too scared to take a step one direction or another. Too worried; too terrified.

And so Padme did what she must. She distracted him for as long as she could. Until Ahsoka arrived. Until the Jedi confronted the Chancellor.

Until Palpatine was dead.

For Padme loved the Republic. She held ideals of democracy and truth and peace.

But she also remembered a time when she was a younger girl. When she was Queen and a corporation had invaded her planet, her charge. She had taken a blaster in her hand, chosen violence, and stared down the entire Republic for her people.

Anakin was her people.

So, she was willing, if but just for a moment, to give up a piece of herself. Anakin would be okay when Palpatine was dead.

And if there had been no trial? No investigation or due process? She would not weep for the death of a traitor.

The blood of a Queen ran true.

Jedi Master Mace Windu stood alone against a hurricane.

The hurricane roiled and swept, consuming all in its dark path, threatening at any moment to explode and obliterate all it came across.

Mace Windu stood alone against a storm. Against a wound in the very Force itself.

And he was strong.

Master Tiin was dead. Master Kenobi alive, yet hurt. Yoda was too far from here for Mace know if he was dead or alive. There was little time to ponder further than the assurance that Palpatine would either be dead or victorious before he got an answer to that question.

Mace has seen many years as part of the Jedi Order. He knew, having been touched early by the Dark Side of the Force, that he must always keep his emotions in check. To never let them rule him. But he also knew he could never rid himself of them.

Yoda had said to many a youngling and initiate, “Once you start down the dark path, forever will it dominate your destiny.”

Yoda’s words were true. Just not in the way many Jedi took it.

For Mace had started down the dark path many years ago. Since then, he has been plagued by hate, anger, and emotion at nearly all times.

He grew stronger in spite of it. When they spread across his countenance and worried his fellow Jedi, he constructed a mask of impassiveness to bely is true feelings.

When his emotions dipped into his lightsaber forms and he became unbalanced and faltering, he created his own lightsaber form. Vapaad. It took the emotions and funneled them into fighting. Raw emotion and aggression turned onto an enemy. Using the anger, never letting it use you.

He perfected the lightsaber form with his apprentices as he took them. However, none had the strength and will he did; each fell to the dark path one after the other.

And yet he still grew stronger.

So, when sitting in the presence of a wound—a dark, malevolent entity that sucked all into its orbit—he did not weaken and falter as other Jedi would.

The emotions, the anger, the hate, the darkness itself, all made him stronger. His will absolute.

Palpatine was ready for a battle or for a duel.

Mace Windu stood alone. Mace Windu brought war.

Mace Windu looked and he saw. He traced the cracks and weaves in the Force. He traveled the lines and looked into future outcomes. He saw Palpatine’s moves before he made them, countered attacks before he saw them.

Every bit of roiling emotion Palpatine let out, Mace drew in, funneling it into his hands and his blade.

Soon, his purple blade became an extension of himself. His mind not worried about blocking tens of attacks made in a single second.

The whirl of sabers became the least interesting thing to him.

Instead, he looked for a way to win. For while he matched every strike, every blow, he did not push back. He couldn’t.

For while he gave up no ground, he received none in return either. It was a standstill. They moved past side-tables, now sliced in half, and over statues, thrown this way and that, streaking a violent path through the Chancellor’s office.

He lapped up Palpatine’s frustration in the Force. There was no talk, no banter here. Mace had nothing to hear or say to a Sith Lord.

Palpatine fought for power and death.

Mace fought for peace.

Or, he silently admitted to himself, he fought for the Republic.

There was no time here. Minutes or hours or days passed as two giants battled.

And all throughout, Mace waited for Obi-Wan to rise. To get back up and provide the opening Mace needed to end this.

And when it comes, he takes it. Or he tries to.

He sees it before it truly happens. Looking into the shatterpoints as he had been. But Palpatine had pulled a purposely timed feint. And with it, a second red lightsaber, hidden from view, flew towards Obi-Wan.

There was no opening. Only a trap.

When Obi-Wan righted himself and launched at Palpatine, Mace had two options.

I’m sorry, he thought, and took the only option that might save the galaxy.

He saw as the red blade carved Obi-Wan to pieces. Saw it more times in the force than he could count. So, when it finally happened, he felt nothing but cold purpose and determination.

He stole a glimpse towards Obi-Wan’s body as he fended off two red lightsabers. There lay a broken, bisected man. Right leg and arm sliced off, his chest still.

Another light presence winked out in the Force. The dark grew more consuming and powerful. Mace Windu stood alone to match it.

Padme can only do so much to stave off Anakin’s growing anxiety as something continues to bother him.

She’s looking out over Coruscant, looking at the skyline and the few buildings that dominate it. The Jedi Temple, The Senate Rotunda, and the Executive Buildings.

Somewhere out there, the Jedi Council were confronting Chancellor Palpatine for his crimes.

From Anakin’s reaction, something was quite wrong.

“I can feel the darkness growing. Something has gone terribly wrong.”

He’s speaking fast now, fumbling over words, and it’s all Padme can do to get him to sit down and wait.

“You still feel Obi-Wan’s presence?”

“Yes...though it’s strained. They’re fighting...”

And that was a worrisome thought. Four master swordspeople on the Jedi Council went to confront a single old man. Sith or not, it should have been a somewhat quick affair.

And yet it was not. This far away, Anakin could only sense Obi-Wan’s feelings, and little else. He had told her that the dark side clouded his vision and what little he could see.

If Padme wasn’t with him, she was sure that he’d have already run off to do something. What scared Padme the most was she wasn’t sure what he would do when he arrived.

Help the Jedi apprehend the Chancellor...or...something else.

Padme had never feared Anakin and his anger. She had not feared it when he had told her what he did to the Sand People, and a bit of disgust had almost made her agree with him.

She had never had any reason to fear Anakin himself, even if she was well aware of what his anger had wrought on others across the galaxy.

But now she was scared. Scared of, and for, Anakin.

She had no clue what he was going to do. And it terrified her.

Maybe she should have trusted what he planned to do. Trusted him. Instead, she distracted and kept him here, using his trust and devotion towards her to keep him safe. Even if it was wrong.

She was using the way he felt to manipulate him. Even if she truly believed it was in his best interests, it was still wrong.

Yet, it was hard to feel bad when she saw Anakin sit there, still staring at his hands, tears rolling down his cheeks.

Anakin was broken.

She had known this for quite some time. She had known it even when she had married him, and long before.

Between his past as a slave, the death of his mother, and his faulty education, Anakin was a broken person.

She had wanted to put the pieces back together. But there was never time. He didn’t leave the Order because the war started. If the war had never happened...

Anakin straightened suddenly, his back like an iron rod.

“Obi-Wan!”

He bolted up, grabbing his lightsaber from where it rests on the coffee table.

She opened her mouth to speak, to get him to stop and think, when she saw his eyes.

They were troubled, broken, and filled with emotion. But more than that, they held a pain that she had not seen since the day Shmi had died.

Something terrible has happened to Obi-Wan.

“Go” She whispered.

And he was gone.

When Ahsoka arrived, it was far too late.

“Master Jedi, surely you don’t think you can win here? I have killed or maimed three of your best duelists without harm to myself,” sickly yellow eyes widened and seemed to taunt Mace, “and even if you do...well...the Republic will never forgive an assassination of the Chancellor.”

Mace tried his best not to respond to the monster before him, his parries, blocks, and strikes never slowing for a moment. Yet...

“We are the Jedi Order. We’ve stood by the Republic for thousands of years. I’m certain we’ll outlast one man.”

Those words sparked rage in Palpatine, and talk was over for the moment.

Their robes were equally sliced and gouged and seared from their hours-long duel. As they fought their way through the executive building, through the public offices, into the sitting area, and finally into Palpatine’s inner sanctum.

Mace, upon second look, noticed much of the artwork and pieces seemed to be more...dark in nature. Not enough to raise alarm on their own.

How were they so blind?

And yet, Mace was well aware that the last hope for the Jedi Order would be decided this night. He thought for just a moment, how this might have gone if he had not left Anakin behind.

He hated to admit it, but he was unsure how a spar would last between himself and Skywalker. Palpatine was a master swordsman and practitioner of the Force...but Skywalker was powerful.

That was why Palpatine wanted him as an apprentice and ultimately why Anakin must stay far from what happened tonight.

If Mace died, Skywalker’s convictions would be sure, and he would strike back against Palpatine.

Perhaps far too late, Mace admitted, if only to himself, Skywalker was trustworthy. Maybe things would have been different if the Council had more faith in him when he was just a Padawan.

Mace’s hopes and regrets meant little in the face of Palpatine.

His bones ached. He felt sore all over. Yet, he continued to draw strength from the Force, using Vapaad to keep himself strong and fighting.

There was nothing he could do to get past Palpatine’s defenses. He couldn’t feel Palpatine tiring and his shatterpoints were getting more and more faded from his sight. He could not see the future. He could not see the past. He could only see a block left, a parry right, a shift in form, raw aggression in an overhead strike.

There was nothing else but the blade in his hand, and the blades he fought. Nothing else except...nothing except a whisper in the force. A maelstrom of light and dark headed towards the building.

Nothing except Anakin.

Anakin...I need your help.

Sidious could feel his apprentice—well, his future apprentice—headed towards the building. The final cards were in play.

He could feel the anguish, the anger, the hate, roiling within Skywalker. The boy was being eaten alive by the dark side.

Palpatine could see it now. A vision, just a glimpse in the force of a future that had happened before.

Those who were not seers and visionaries in the Force held little understanding of Cosmic Force in any true way. Jedi and their weak ways could only understand the Unifying Force. That which bound all the life in the galaxy together. His master had studied this. Sidious knew better.

He knew that there was more out there. His visions of futures, glimpses into pasts, presents, and beyond were more than just failed visions and unclear prophecies.

The Force had seen all things. It had seen this fight once before. With four masters confronting a Sith. Three felled by his hand and the last of them, Mace Windu.

The Force had seen Anakin arrive, had seen him run to protect his mentor. Then Mace had died.

So, when Sidious saw a glimpse of that future. Of Anakin falling to the Dark Side and becoming his apprentice. Well, it was going to happen.

After all, what had happened once before would surely happen again.

The Force itself knew this truth. Anakin will fall, it whispered.

Sidious smiled.

Mace pushes the fight closer to the large floor-to-ceiling window that occupies the entire outer wall of Palpatine’s private office.

He has one last gambit to gain an upper hand.

With a deft hand and a push of force, he sweeps Palpatine closer and closer to the window, before doing something reckless.

With a quick slice, he shatters the window, opening the office to the elements before hopping onto the windowsill, almost flying out into the Coruscant cityscape from Palpatine’s retaliation.

He can feel Skywalker getting closer now, it’s only a matter of time.

There’s one last shatterpoint still within his vision and he grasps it with both metaphorical hands. Strike left, strike right, push Palpatine onto the tightrope with him.

Why would a Sith ever refuse such a dangerous opportunity?

For all the traps the Sith had laid over this war, Mace had lain just one, just now. As Palpatine swept up onto the windowsill with him, Mace cast a statue towards them both with the Force, forcing Palpatine to let up for just a moment.

A moment in which Mace relieved him of his second lightsaber.

The light soared in victory at his momentary success, he felt power pour through his form as Vapaad took the victory and burst of hatred and turned it into strength.

Skywalker turned the corner, he yelled something incomprehensible. Mace watched Palpatine’s head tick towards Palpatine for just a second.

In this game of high stakes and master duelists, a second is an eternity.

Two strikes and Palpatine’s last saber flies out the window into the night.

The Sith falls onto his back, scooting backwards to avoid Mace’s purple blade, sniveling like the worm he’s always been.

“Anakin! I told you, the Jedi are taking over!”

Mace looked at Palpatine and had a strange revelation.

Palpatine trusted Anakin. Why did the Sith Lord trust Anakin?

“We are no more taking over than we ever have. You, are a Sith, and a threat to the galaxy at large.”

“Anakin, I was right. They cannot see reason. It is a coup! They would kill me over ideological differences. What have I done wrong!”

Mace recognizes the mask set in over Palpatine. This was the Chancellor that had fooled them all. The one that sympathized and seemed to want the best for the galaxy.

“You have lost, Sith.”

Palpatine seemed to smile, shaking his head. “No. No, you have lost!”

Quick as a flash, purple and blue lightning came from the tips of Palpatine’s fingers. It was heavy and dark and noxious, and Mace only just brought his blade up in time to avoid a lethal blast from the Sith.

Anakin sat there and watched.

Mace realized that Anakin was considering what this monster was saying.

His voice was strained, blocking the lightning. “Don’t listen to him Anakin!”

Palpatine responded. “I am the only one with the power to save Padme. You...must...choose.”

Quick as it started, the lightning ended, smoke and fog clearing from the engagement leaving behind a decrepit, old, wrinkled mess of a man. His eyes were still burning yellow, but his teeth were now crooked and rotten. His face saggy and set in deep lines.

“I...I... I’m too weak. I’m too weak. Please. Please don’t kill me Master Jedi.”

“Too weak. You killed three Jedi Master tonight Sith. You were certainly not weak then. You are a threat to the Jedi, to the Republic.”

“I am the Senate. The voice of the Republic”

“You must be silenced.”

Anakin’s voice spoke, for the first time since he arrived. “This is not the Jedi way; he must stand trial!”

“He has control of the Senate and the courts, he’s too dangerous to be left alive!”

Mace resolved himself to do what must be done. He closed himself from his surroundings, reached into the Force, and raised his blade to silence the Sith once and for all.

“Please don’t!” Palpatine’s voice cried out.

Out of the corner of Mace’s eye, he saw Anakin draw his lightsaber and light it, a streak of blue light swinging in an arc—

“Noooo!” Anakin screamed out. And the Force cried.

Anakin laid on his knees in the Chancellor’s offices, numb and unfeeling for what he’d just done.

His lightsaber sat, unlit a foot ahead of him. Blood rushed in his ears and he couldn’t hear a thing. He didn’t hear the robed figure stand up, didn’t see them walk over to stand before him.

All he saw was his own hands. He imagined them covered in blood. Not just the blood of the life he took tonight, but the blood of all those he’d killed in his life.

So much death.

“I killed them all! And not just the men. But the women, and the children too. They’re animals! So, I slaughtered them like animals.”

He still lived, so why did he feel like he’d just died?

He looks over and sees a body, wrapped in cloak and robes, lying dead, missing a head.

Hands rest and grip his shoulders, squeezing them in reassurance for what he’d just done.

He didn’t see Yoda. He didn’t see Master Tiin. He glimpsed over at the body.

Where is Obi-Wan? And why can’t I feel him alive?

All he can feel is adrenaline and pain.

Chapter Text

What have I done?

Slowly, the room fades back into focus before Anakin’s eyes. As the adrenaline wears off, he looks down at his hands. He kept them both gloved at all times, but he couldn’t remove the fact that it felt like blood coated them.

He took a glance towards the window and saw the beheaded body of his friend and closest mentor.

Palpatine was a Sith Lord.

Palpatine was also the only one besides Padme who understood him.

Now he was dead.

The office of his former mentor is destroyed. Every piece of furniture and sculpture has been toppled or bisected by a lightsaber. The window is completely shattered, and the old desk is a heap of scrap. Everything, including the walls and floors, is scorched with the marks of a lightsaber duel.

Master Windu was still standing before him, seemingly waiting for Anakin to pull himself together.

Anakin wasn’t sure if that was ever going to happen again.

He grabbed his lightsaber from where it had rolled out of his hand and it seemed to scald him just holding it.

“Skywalker. Thank you for coming to my aid... there is a lot we will need to talk about in the coming days. We will have much to discuss regarding Palpatine. If you hadn’t arrived when you had,” at this he grabs Anakin’s shoulder in a show of gratitude, “things would have likely ended much differently.”

Anakin isn’t relieved. He doesn’t feel better. He doesn’t feel anything besides a deep gnawing pain in his chest.

He can’t even look Master Windu in the face while he thinks him. Each word strikes deep lacerations into Anakin’s psyche.

Mace Windu doesn’t know how close he came to death.

In the private of Anakin’s mind, he wasn’t sure who he was going to swing his blade at until it happened.

In the deepest recesses of his brain, he can’t help but feel he’s made the wrong choice.

There was never any question on what Ahsoka was going to do when Padme told her what had happened.

Anakin was in trouble, Palpatine was a Sith Lord, and Obi-Wan was hurt or dead.

There was not any question that she was ever going to do anything but what she had always done when Anakin managed to get himself into trouble. She’d run after him.

After reassuring Padme, she had jumped back in her speeder and jetted off to the Executive Building. The building was far too quiet. There were no soldiers, no guards. Not a single soul in sight.

Just a single empty Jedi Speeder that Anakin had liked.

Ahsoka was many things: prideful, somewhat complacent, stubborn, and not good at knowing when she was beaten or outmatched.

But what she senses in the Force ahead of her gives her pause. A battle among titans that could brush her aside like a hurricane does a single leaf. This Sith Lord could rend her, tear her apart with a single brush of the force. She knew this.

It didn’t scare her.

She had faith. Faith in Anakin.

For every time Anakin had ever shown weakness, he had shown unimaginable strength. For every time Anakin had ever failed, he had fought back tooth and nail to turn it into a victory.

Anakin was unstoppable.

If Palpatine was a Sith Lord, if Palpatine was the hurricane, the storm which threatened to tear the galaxy apart, Anakin was desert rock.

He had seen storms and weather far greater. They had worn and weathered and torn him apart, but at the end of the day he’d still be standing.

Ahsoka had faith in the Jedi Order. But more than that, she had faith that Anakin would always be able to fight another day. It was truth. It was law.

The force seemed to agree.

He will always survive, it said.

Ahsoka couldn’t quite tell why that sounded like an omen.

Somewhere along her run to the Chancellor’s office, she felt an explosion in the force. A presence had passed on. Not the way a Jedi’s presence would, Ahsoka had been unfortunate enough to witness many Jedi deaths throughout the war, this presence seemed to fight the force itself on its way out towards obliteration. It twisted and moved and tore and then it slipped away into the night.

The Sith Lord was dead.

Ahsoka almost fell apart right there. Heaving back a sob, she ran into the public office of the Chancellor.

The first thing she notices is how the room is absolutely torn apart. Not a single thing remains the way it had looked the last time she had visited this place. It looks less like a lightsaber duel took place and more like a war zone.

The second thing she notices is Master Tiin’s body. It’s been bisected directly across the chest, the Iktotchi Jedi Master did not die a peaceful death like he had always wished for. Ahsoka barely holds back bile and presses onward. There’s nothing she can do for him.

The window is shattered, and wind blows into the office, the smells of burnt flesh, a burning fire, and the oily smell of Coruscant mixed into an unpleasant abomination.

Ahsoka looks desperately around, her eyes zeroing on Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan’s entire right side seems cleaved apart. His right arm and leg sit not far away, along with a portion of his side.

It looks wrong and perverse to Ahsoka, the way Obi-Wan just lays there, forgotten. The dignified Jedi Master looked broken. He looked unnatural.

Before she knew it, she sat there by him, sobbing her eyes out.

Oh Anakin...

Life had never been kind to him.

His mentor had killed his brother.

There is a small push. A small gust of air. The feeling you get in a building, when far away someone opens or closes a door. As if the atmosphere shifts, just the smallest bit. If Ahsoka wasn’t still, she would have missed it—she had almost missed it.

Obi-Wan breathes in a short, shaky, rasping breath.

Even in this he sounded dead, the air came out of his mouth like a ghost.

Ahsoka couldn’t help but remember clones and Jedi as they died. The death rattles as their bodies processed with the death of those that controlled them. The final flinches, movements, and breaths that fooled you one last time.

For a couple of seconds Ahsoka was angry. Angry at the Jedi. At the Sith. At the Force. For this cruel trick.

Then Obi-Wan breathes in again.

Ahsoka looked closer. Beyond the missing limbs. Beyond the blood, the scorched flesh, beyond it all. She looked deeper.

She let out a twisted mix between a laugh and a sob that sounded harsh in the quiet room.

Obi-Wan was alive.

Obi-Wan had lost two limbs, most of his side, and received injuries that should have assured his death near instantly. Then, he was left there for crucial, important minutes that should have spelled doom for any regular human.

Ahsoka should have known. Obi-Wan never left a job unfinished.

Even now, she could feel Obi-Wan’s presence faintly, weakly, reach out for Anakin.

Obi-Wan refused to die as long as Anakin needed his brother.

He isn’t entirely sure how long he spends sitting in a chair looking at Palpatine’s body. Master Windu has already called for a medical LAAT and contacted the Coruscant Guard, letting them know a very loose understanding of tonight’s events.

A confrontation between the Chancellor and the Jedi occurred tonight.

Yes. A confrontation. Anakin supposes that it’s technically true, but as is usual with the Jedi it was never the actual truth.

The truth.

Anakin sits and wonders, “what is truth”?

He sits and watches Palpatine’s body and wonders if the Jedi have ever told him the truth. He wonders if Palpatine had been lying.

It’s like a fog has set over his mind. Not one of deception, but of confusion. There was no longer the desperation that existed just hours ago, when Palpatine was alive. When his mentor has promises and words for him, if only he’d make a decision for himself.

And yet.

And yet Palpatine was right.

He never once decided for himself throughout the entire night. He had gone and told the Jedi like he was supposed to. Windu seemed to, only slightly, appreciate what Anakin had done. He didn’t seem to understand that Anakin had thrown his whole world away for the Jedi.

Padme was his home, yes, but he had never admitted to anyone that Palpatine was his rock. His solid ground.

Palpatine always trusted Anakin. Always had kind words and important lessons. He had never done Anakin wrong, not truly.

And Anakin killed him.

“You are my heir, Anakin”

He had killed the only person who had ever cared for him like a father. He’d murdered his rock.

It was a clean slice. Less than a single second between the drawn blade and the bisected head.

Anakin couldn’t clear from his mind the utter shock that was revealed on Palpatine’s face. The utter disappointment. And for a quick flash, the anger and rage.

Anakin deserved that. He deserved the disappointment, the anger, the rage. He had surely been angry and full of rage before, he could never admonish the Chancellor for that.

He was a pitiful creature, Anakin was, to betray that which had protected him all his life.

The desperation was gone. Now, he was just tired. He felt empty.

“-yguy? Can you hear me?” Ahsoka’s voice is like a sword, divining truth and cutting through the fog he sat in. “Anakin! Anakin can you hear me?”

For the first time since it happened, Anakin looked away from Palpatine’s corpse. Turning and looking at Ahsoka, he breathes in fresh air and takes in her worried face.

“Skyguy, quick, Obi-Wan is alive, he needs help quick!”

Anakin felt struck by lightning. He sprung up from the floor, leaving his lightsaber where it lay untouched, and bolted out of the room headed towards the public office of the Chancellor.

“Skyguy, your lightsaber!”

A single sentence thrummed through his head. It focused his thoughts and gave him purpose.

Obi-Wan is alive!

He repeated it, then repeated it again in his mind until it was the only thing, he was aware of.

He can ignore what he’d just done. The betrayal he’d just committed. He refused to think about the consequences of his actions because Obi-Wan was alive.

When he arrived at the office, medics were already loading Obi-Wan’s body—just Obi-Wan, not his body, Anakin thought—onto a hover-stretcher.

The medics didn’t stop him from running over to the stretcher. He took his first real look at Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan was right-handed. Obi-Wan no longer had a right hand. Or a right arm. Or even really a right side. How his master had lived was a force-damned miracle at this point.

Obi-Wan was alive!

“Please Master... I can’t lose you too,” his voice was raspy, he didn’t like it.

When Ahsoka caught up with his lightsaber in her hand he refused to take it.

He was too scared he’d use it for something awful again.

Perhaps Mace should have contemplated the consequences of storming the office of the Supreme Chancellor, ousting him as a Sith Lord and committing what was, essentially, an assassination against the highest office in the Republic. If you twisted it a certain way, it could even be construed as a member of the military leading other members of the military in a takeover of the Republic’s Executive Powers. Also known as a coup.

He should’ve contemplated that.

Mace liked to think he should be excused for not thinking of such a trivial idea when a Sith Lord was the Supreme Chancellor.

And yet, when members of the Coruscant Guard, Coruscant Security Forces, various members of the military and judiciary and numerous other members milled around the Executive Offices of the Republic, all looking at him in an accusatory manner, it seemed like a slight oversight.

Yoda still hadn’t turned up, though he’d sent Jedi to search the area around where Yoda would have taken his several hundred floor fall, and it was becoming quite worrying. Mace more than anyone knew Yoda wasn’t invincible, but this situation would’ve been a hell of a lot easier with the Grandmaster at his side.

Anakin and Ahsoka had left on the medical LAAT with Obi-Wan, Master Tiin’s body had been moved by Jedi Consulars to the temple where he’d be lain to rest, and Palpatine’s body had been moved off to a morgue.

4 O’clock in the morning and Mace was dealing with politics. Military politics, but politics, nonetheless.

“Commander Fox, I understand the need for clarity and an independence from the Jedi at this time with the investigations. Do not feel that you have lapsed in your duty to protect the Chancellor... this was bigger than you. You will see that.”

Fox didn’t seem to like that.

“I understand that, Sir, but we’d really like to bring you in for questioning regarding the ...death of the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic.”

“Remember, Commander, that the Jedi currently oversee the Republic Military along with members of the Senate, we will be releasing information regarding the situation as it becomes prudent and apparent.”

“Yes Sir. If you are a traitor Sir...I will have no reservations taking you in.”

Mace sighed, “that, I have never doubted. In the meantime, let’s get a slicer team of troopers and investigators besides what the Jedi will be providing. Palpatine was a Sith Lord, no matter how smart he may think he was, he must have left something.”

With a quick “Yes Sir,” Commander Fox stormed away to talk to his men.

All night he’d dealt with troopers and questions and everything that came after killing a Sith Lord masquerading as the Supreme Chancellor.

If Palpatine had managed to continue pushing reforms and bills limiting the powers of the Jedi... the aftermath of this could have turned out very differently. He almost feared what the galaxy would have looked like.

There was a bill that had just been shot down by the pro-Jedi members of the Senate that would hand the military directly over to the Supreme Chancellor. If that had passed...

But for now, the Jedi and the Senate still held control of the military. With the looks and whispers so far, he would not be surprised if Palpatine’s long-laid plans would see them ousted even after his death.

With the death of Palpatine, there was a clarity of vision found in the Force. He could stretch his senses further, see and feel Jedi across the galaxy and even detect and be led by the Force in a way he had not felt since long before the Clone Wars began.

His shatterpoints were immense. The whole world was like splintered glass, stretching out into the Coruscant horizon, each line and fracture a future or possible event. Mace could spend the rest of his life deciphering the impacts of just this moment.

He felt secure in the future of the Jedi more than ever before. There was not a darkness that lingered around everything.

Well, except this office. Now, with clarity of vision, it reeked of the Dark Side. And when Mace had been trying to reach Anakin in his catatonic state, he could nearly see the hooks that Palpatine had planted in young Skywalker for years. It unnerved him to know that Palpatine had been, very likely, grooming Anakin since Anakin had arrived on Coruscant all those years ago.

Looking now, he can’t help but notice how broken Anakin was. He was well and truly fractured. Even years with a Jedi Mind Healer might not repair the damage that had so obviously been done.

How had they not noticed? How had none of the members of the council noticed?

Sure, they had seen his recklessness and his unbridled emotion. They had thought Anakin existed solely to spit in the face of Jedi teachings. He was everything a Jedi wasn’t. And yet, because of that damned prophecy, they had ignored it.

The prophecy was right, he balanced the Force tonight, a traitorous voice whispered. Mace silenced it.

His cockiness, his blatant disregard for orders, his lust for action and violence.

It was all symptoms of a problem, not a problem itself. Anakin Skywalker was broken a long time ago. He never should have been trained as a Padawan under a newly knighted Obi-Wan.

He certainly should never have been on the front lines of a war.

The Jedi had seemingly failed Skywalker many, many times over the past decade. Mace just hoped that it wasn’t too late to fix the past wrongs.

Padme understands that it was unlikely that anyone would reach out to tell her what happened to Anakin.

She understands that the only ones who even know that she should be contacted are Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, and Anakin himself. Obi-Wan who was likely injured or otherwise incapacitated, Ahsoka who likely had her hands full dealing with Anakin, and well, the less said about Anakin’s inability to follow clear lines of communication the better.

She understands all this. But pacing back and forth on her balcony, staring towards the Executive Offices, she despises it.

She’s scared sick with what might have happened, with what Anakin might have or have not done.

What happened to her friends? To her husband?

She hears the beep from her commlink in her hand. Had she been holding it, waiting for news, the entire time?

It’s a written message from Bail Organa, “Palpatine is dead, he’s been killed by the Jedi.” She tries to feel guilty over the relief that washes over her.

She doesn’t hesitate to call Bail.

His hologram appears and he’s looking worn and tired. At this time of night, she imagines she looks the same way. He’s wearing his characteristic blue Alderaanian dress clothes that look wrinkled.

“Padme?” he says.

“Bail, thank the Force, are you okay?”

He sighs, “Yes, I’m fine. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for our less-than-stable democracy.”

“Because of Palpatine?”

Bail seems to age a decade before her eyes. “No. Not because of Palpatine. His twisting of law and abuse of emergency executive powers were bad... but this? The military leaders of the Republic arresting and executing the Supreme Chancellor in the dead of the night?”

“But wasn’t Palpatine a Sith Lord?”

“According to the Jedi.”

Padme is bewildered. “According to the Jedi? Are the Jedi no longer trustworthy?”

“Padme, it doesn’t matter if the Jedi are trustworthy or not. They just rolled into the Executive Chambers of the Head of the Republic and executed him. It doesn’t matter if he’s a traitor, it doesn’t matter if he’s a Sith and killed some Jedi, for heaven’s sake, it doesn’t matter if he’s the leader of the Separatists himself!”

Padme doesn’t exactly have anything to say about that. Bail looks stressed and honestly, he looks downright scared with what’s happened tonight.

“Padme... I don’t know how we’re going to come back from this in any reasonable way. The backlash from the Senate will likely be... immense."

“What should we do?”

Bail looks down, rubbing his forehead and mumbles under his breath. Looking back up, his face is grim. “We must denounce what the Jedi did here. We’ve always been friends with them, I am personally on good terms with Grandmaster Yoda himself, but what was done here tonight is wrong. It was a miscarriage of justice.”

Padme’s can feel her heartbeat increase from those words alone. “What do you think will happen?”

“They’ll vote for someone to take the Chancellor’s place for the time being. The Jedi will come forward to explain whatever they did tonight. Other than that, I can’t really say.”

“Who was there? I know of two Jedi Knights, Obi-Wan and Anakin, were they there?”

He nods solemnly. “Yes, the Hero-With-No-Fear was there, as was his Master. A Jedi Master, Master Tiin died, Obi-Wan went away in a medical LAAT with Anakin and Ahsoka. All that’s left here is Mace Windu and he’s not answering any questions tonight—”

Bail’s holocomm goes blurry with static very quickly as he turns away, “Yes, yes I’m leaving, I’m leaving,” Bail disappears as a Corsucant Guard in Clone Trooper armor seems to be directing Bail away from where he’d called from, “Sorry, Padme, looks like I’m being escorted off the premises, I’ll get back to you in the morning.”

Click.

Anakin is alive, Padme thinks.

Padme has no clue what may come, not with the way the world has been shaken in the past 24 hours, but her husband is alive.

And that’s all that matters right now.

Mace hadn’t gotten a lick of sleep in the past two days. Not once had he been able to meditate or lay his eyes to rest for more than a couple moments before he’d been interrupted with what seemed like the next great fall of the Republic.

From Dooku’s death to the reveal of the Chancellor to his death as well.

The Master and the Apprentice. Dead within two days. Such is the will of the Force.

Over the past couple of hours, protesters had started to arrive throughout the morning to outside the Senate building, the Jedi Temple, and down outside the very Executive Building that Sidious was killed.

From sycophants and fans of Palpatine who saw him as the kindly old man who led the Republic, to those who decried to miscarriage of justice and democracy that had occurred last night when the Jedi had arrived to arrest the Chancellor.

As the crowds started to build up, Mace couldn’t help but doubt his decision to attempt to keep everything quiet for the time being. It seemed like everyone had found out enough anyways and the silence was being seen as evidence of conspiracy. Of treason.

If something didn’t happen soon, there might be a system-wide riot.

Right now, members of the Coruscant Guard and Police were keeping the crowds at bay. More members of the military under the guide of the Jedi.

Mace hadn’t had the time to sit down and think about how much power the Jedi truly had at this moment in time. With the war going on, it hadn’t ever been a conscious thought of his. He’d spent more time focusing on all the power the Chancellor had been creating for himself.

But the contracts with the Kaminoans were quite clear. The Jedi Order had ordered and purchased a Clone Army. The Jedi Order were its generals and leaders. And Mace Windu himself currently held supreme authority over all military function of the Army and good portions of the Republic Navy.

He had delegated these powers and authorities out to many military leaders and members of the Senate, sure, but all that spoke to say, with the Chancellor dead, Mace Windu was the acting leader of the Grand Army of the Republic.

With the state of what was the functional equivalent of martial law declared, Mace Windu was also the highest operating leader within the Republic. Until the Senate reconvened later this evening, Mace Windu was the leader of the Republic itself.

He was disgusted with himself.

Sadly, that power was extremely useful to stop the arrest of all the Jedi involved in the duel with Sidious. It also allowed him to direct military forces and investigations into the Chancellor looking for the evidence he’d need to absolve himself and the Jedi of the crimes they had committed. It sounded a lot worse when he thought it all out.

Mace hadn’t even had the time to mourn and pay respects to Master Tiin. There was a small whole in his heart that he knew he’d have to spend time in the Force meditating over. Master Tiin had many disagreements with Mace over the years, but they had been staunch friends and supporters of each other, and frequently trained and dueled together to keep themselves sharp.

To lose a master swordsperson was bad. To lose a close friend was devastating.

Worse even, Master Yoda still had not been found in the streets below. He had a squad of Jedi Shadows under Master Tholme searching the streets for, hopefully, Master Yoda. And in the worst case, recover his body.

Finally, Obi-Wan was in critical condition and missing nearly the entire right side of his body. It was a miracle that young Master hadn’t died in a single instant, let alone survive to be med-evac’d.

Anakin and Ahsoka had gone with him. The former looking sullen and holding onto the hope of his master’s living status and the latter coming to terms with the fact that her master may never be the same again.

Other Jedi had since come to help take the body and limbs away, but the evidence of the battle here had not suddenly disappeared. At least three separate investigation teams were rummaging around Palpatine’s collection of public and private offices. The Coruscant Guard’s, the Jedi’s, and whatever mismatched collection of private investigators the Senate had managed to collect this soon.

Mace could feel the eyes of the Courscant Guard on his back, their feelings of distrust and their disquiet palpable from where they stood at the door. The Guard themselves had been jumping between outright accusations and pure submission to his authority over them as a General. Nothing here would turn out well.

The door to the chambers slides open a cluster of Senators walk through the doors escorted by clone troopers. Each senator has a grim look on their face, but Mace can feel in the force that they seem smug and self-assured, if a little disquieted.

The one at the head, a human Senator, opens his mouth to speak, but Mace interrupts first.

“Senators, what can I do to help you?”

The Senator at the front’s expression folds into almost a snarl. “Nothing, it would seem. Unless that something is to cut us down with your lightsaber. We are here to ascertain what might have occurred on the premises here between the Jedi and the Supreme Chancellor that might have resulted in his assassination.”

Now, Mace was incensed. “I’m sorry Senator, but not only do you have no jurisdiction here, but your outright accusations are unfounded. There’s nothing you can do, I operated under my full legal ability. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“Perhaps it is time for that to change. If the Jedi think they can overthrow the Republic or start a coup without any repercussions or any way to stop them, then they no longer have the moral acumen to hold the power they do any longer.” He smiled at Mace, “I may not have the jurisdiction here, but I can assure you, you won’t for long either.”

As the group of Senators walk out of the offices, Mace can’t help but feel as if he’s fallen into a Sith trap. A last laugh from Palpatine to strip the Jedi of power and authority.

Even in death that Sith is still a pain in his ass.

Anakin had spoken to Padme once during the night to reassure her. To tell her that he’d killed Palpatine and that Obi-Wan was alive.

Hearing her voice had grounded him for a moment, made him feel marginally better after all the blood on his hands. It hadn’t stayed around for long.

Padme couldn’t come to the Jedi Temple Medical Center, and Anakin wasn’t planning on leaving Obi-Wan’s side until he was sure that his master would survive.

Ahsoka sitting curled up in on herself in a chair across the room, snoring softly. She was dressed in her usual combat gear with her lightsabers on her belt. She held his own lightsaber tightly in her hand as she slept.

She had tried to hand him back the lightsaber multiple times throughout the night, but Anakin could not bring himself to take it. To hold the weapon in his hands. It felt like it was dripping with the blood of his father.

He’s been rubbing his hands all night. He can’t remember the number of times he’s washed and scrubbed them in the medical sink. By now, they’re red and sore and dry and yet they still feel dirty with blood. It hurts to look at them, so he keeps his eyes closed.

Anakin had come to a consensus.

He regrets killing Palpatine. He regrets it more than anything else in his life. He regrets it more than the time he was too slow to respond to an attack from the Separatists, where he watched them slaughter a village of innocents. He regrets it more than the times he’d nearly gotten Obi-Wan and Ahsoka killed.

Deep inside himself, he regrets it more than the time he was too late to save his mother. When she died in his arms and he slaughter the men, women, and children of an entire people.

Because then it wasn’t just his fault. His mother’s last words had been her love for him. She had looked at him as if he hung the stars in the sky.

He remembers the look of utter surprise and betrayal on Palpatine’s face.

He wishes he had cut of Windu’s head instead.

Then he’d still have Palpatine. Palpatine and Anakin could have healed Obi-Wan. Made him understand.

Instead, Obi-Wan was sitting in a tank of bacta, barely hanging on to life.

And Palpatine was dead.

He’s glad Ahsoka is asleep. He can’t bring himself to speak to her, but he listens when she talks. He can tell she feels like she’s walking on eggshells around him. Sounding out every word she says to him. With her asleep he doesn’t have to feel bad about not doing anything about it. Not reassuring her or being the master he’s supposed to be for her.

There’s no constancy, no balance in Anakin. If this was what he had been born for. If this is what the Force had required, he couldn’t help but think that the Force was cruel.

Anakin had spent his entire life trying to save and protect the people that meant the most to him. All of them were either hurt or dead by his actions. It wouldn’t be long before Ahsoka left him for not being the master he was supposed to be.

And if Palpatine was right... it wouldn’t be long until something happened to Padme too.

Looking into the Force for answers, he finds nothing. Just silence, like every other time he’s tried to meditate. He finds Obi-Wan’s force presence, so small and weak to its usual nature and listens to beat of Obi-Wans life-force.

He finally fades to sleep to the small, steady thrum of Obi-Wan’s heart.

Chapter Text

A small, gnarled hand braced itself against the corner of a run-down street corner. Yoda, Grandmaster of the Jedi Order and Master of the Council, hobbled along the undercity of Coruscant, feeling all 880 of his long years. He set a slow pace and not a single soul helped him. He did not have his twisted, wooden cane. He did not have a hoverchair. All he had were his worn feet and the feeling that he was very, very old. Much too old. His Jedi robe was lost somewhere along the line of his fall and subsequent waking up hours later. So too, was his lightsaber. Though, at the moment, he had a feeling that there was no great loss.

For the first time in a long time, Yoda felt the comfort of the force. Like an old friend who hadn’t been able to reach out in a long time, it bolstered him, gave him the will and purpose to move on with his weary and broken limbs slowly, terribly slowly, towards the Jedi Temple. At least Darth Sidious was dead.

He huffed, stopping for a moment, and breathed heavily before continuing on his way. He'd grown accustomed to a lot of pain over the years, and the force dulled it better than any pain reliever he'd tried.Yet still, it was agonizing. He pushed the pain and feelings away into the force.

He had plenty of time to think on his long walk. Reflect on the war, on the status of the Jedi as warriors. On his own complicity in the near destruction of the Galactic Republic... and possibly the Jedi Order. Already, the Clone Wars had brought out much in him that he was not proud of. One thing Yoda has come to learn in his great age is that he is no longer cut out for the kinds of battles he once was in his youth. The fight on Geonosis took much out of him, and it was only a very small duel with his old apprentice, turned Sith Lord.

Then, though it had been less so than other Jedi Masters and Knights, Yoda was sent across the galaxy on diplomatic missions that turned into battles and fights. He had been sent to the frontlines and seen the horrors of war that made him feel centuries older. He had dueled with dark acolytes and had cut down thousands of battle droids.

How had the Jedi Lords of old done this? How had they faced war after war, battle after battle without feeling the same weariness that was now felt across the Jedi Temple? Had the dark shroud over the force been present then as it is now? Is it fate that the elderly must always be tired in the face of war and battle?

Yoda reflected some. He wasn’t sure that one could win a war anymore. He was not as confident in the light as he had been just over a year ago.

He was no longer made for this. He felt as if he was a bit of butter that had been scraped over too much bread. He was thin, weary, and worn, and that’s not even speaking about his physical body. The force could heal all wounds, yes, but there was a wear and tear that even that could not heal forever. The body grew old, and so too, did the soul.

He knew his death was approaching. Had known so for a long time. Before, it had been decades till, maybe a century at most. But a battle with the most powerful Sith Lord in recent history, far more powerful in many ways than himself, and then a subsequent fall so vast it was nearly unsurvivable if not for his small stature and reliance on the force.

It will not be long now. Not long at all.

He didn't need a lightsaber any longer; he'd had his fill of battle. Perhaps he doesn't even have enough left in him to lead any longer.

Mace would be the one to lead the Jedi through these next trials. A clear line through the future had to be walked. There was a foreboding in the force. One that whispered of great trials and tests to come. And Yoda would not be there to see it through.

The war was not yet over. Palpatine may have pulled and twisted the strings, pitting the Separatists and the Republic against each other in the name of the same dark plan to gain more power, but feelings and hatred ran deep throughout the galaxy. It was not just put there by Palpatine. War had already been inevitable decades before this, they had just been too blind to see it.

He gasped aloud as he placed his foot down wrong and brought back the pain from his impossibly long fall. He only needed to make it a little further to get to the temple now.

Yet... in this stillness and pain, he heard a voice call out to him in the force, clearer now that the shroud of the Dark Side had lessened. A voice he had not heard in a very long time.

The morning sun cast its light across the industrial hell-scape that was The Works within the Industrial District of Coruscant. Once the gleaming powerhouse of the entire galaxy, it produced and manufactured goods, weapons, and technology on which the entire galaxy depended in seemingly impossible quantities. However, costs and taxes increased, tariffs and fines were implemented, and a crackdown on the ethics of many manufacturing companies slowly drove the businesses off of Coruscant and elsewhere in the galaxy.

Now, the land was filled with vast, burned out buildings and towers. The entire land was filled with gas, smoke, and vapors pouring off the factories that still stood. Most of the Coruscanti stayed far away from this place.

The Works were just more evidence of the Core-world mindset and the mismanagement that caused corporations and businesses to move towards the outer rim, and thusly, the Separatist cause. It was only fitting that this would be the place of Palpatine’s secret hideout, likely one of many.

There was evidence that this was the place where Count Dooku met with Palpatine and was able to hide and land on Coruscant without anyone in the Republic knowing. High-level authorization codes from the Chancellor himself opened many doors and silenced many questions.

The building, a run-down, decrepit tower, looked unassuming from the outside, and many buildings and factories in this area were dangerous or even lethal depending on what was produced within them. Nobody would ever guess what was inside.

Inside, the place was luxurious. The place was filled with artifacts dating back further than anything many of the Jedi Shadows crawling around had ever seen. Dating back further than even the Jedi Temple itself, statues of ancient Sith and the old Sith Wars were littered about, and a dark side ritual room had already been found and subsequently avoided for the time being. The place was filled with the dark side of the force, and Mace Windu was having a hard time keeping his temper.

The entire building was filled with Jedi Seekers, Shadows, and Investigators, all of whom had a healthy resistance to the dark side. The first batch of Jedi have been rotated out already. Prolonged exposure was, of course, dangerous, and there were few Mace was willing to let stay and risk it.

Mace stood there, looking through a datapad that contained some very concerning information.

Throughout their investigation, which originally started in Palpatine’s office, they found a comm device that bounced off a transponder hosted somewhere in The Works, which led them here. They then began to search the main computer and database hosted here, which had much of its data encrypted or destroyed.

What wasn’t, however, was concerning. Lists of names were on one file. Bounty Hunters used by the Dark Lord, his dark side agents, and senators within the Chancellor’s pockets, whether knowingly or unknowingly. There was a spiderweb of connections the Chancellor had made throughout his tenure as Supreme Chancellor and first as Naboo’s Senator.

Mace notices a cloaked, masked Jedi making his way over and puts down the datapad for a moment.

A gruff, synthesized voice speaks, "Master, almost all the names we’ve found either lead to dead ends, likely fake names, or evidence that the agents have gone to ground," the voice gains some noticeable frustration, "They likely had advance warning."

Mace releases some of his frustration to the force. They would likely be dealing with this web of lies, deceit, and corruption for years to come.

"Well, we expected that, in some sense. Coruscant wasn’t built in a day."

"No... but still. It’s unlikely that me or my seekers will find anything else today. Let me know if you find anything else."

"I will. Thank you." Mace released a steady breath. They simply did not have enough time.

Already, the Senate has called an emergency meeting later in the morning, only a couple hours away, and Mace needs to have something to show them by then. If it isn’t very convincing...

He investigates the shatterpoints laid out before him, looking into possible futures. They’re clearer now, but not much more so than before Palpatine’s death. The dark side had grown too strong for too long for anything else.

A shatterpoint lies before him. If he doesn’t have something very good to show the Senate today, the fate of the Jedi within the Republic may still be suspect.

Mace looks at the datapad again and finds something more suspect. Something seen only by himself and one other.

He sees plans, barely scraps, and mostly garbage data, encrypted and deleted beyond repair. What has become clear, however, are plans to craft and twist a new apprentice. One far younger and more powerful than Dooku. Plans that have come to light date all the way back to Palpatine's time as a senator.

Plans that seemed to include a young boy from Tattooine, who got swept up in things beyond his understanding.

It spoke of a relationship. A record of strategy, lies, and twisted relationships to draw out the anger and grow the attachment. To use and abuse the relationship between a Jedi Knight and his secret wife. A relationship that should never have occurred in the first place.

It spoke of Knight Skywalker. The next apprentice in the long line of Sith.

It spoke of Darth Vader.

Mace Windu wept.

At first, Obi-Wan thinks he has passed into the Living Force.

He looks and sees a kaleidoscope of colors reflecting in weird dimensions and with strange frequencies. He sees streams of flowing rainbows moving in and out of this meta-physical plane.

Seeing beauty in a way that he has never seen before.

He feels the light swirl around him and deposits his essence into an ever-flowing stream. It pulls at him, gently, pulling him away from the natural world and all that he’s ever known.

It feels calm, soothing, and blissful in a way that nothing ever has. How good would it feel to let go? To become one with the Force, the way all creatures must someday do.

And yet... something within him pulls in protest. He could not go. Not yet. It isn’t time.

But the light knows this too, and so the stream diverts in response. Neither flowing into the great beyond nor returning to the land of the living. Instead, it takes him and casts him into the in-between.

His vision widens, and suddenly he has form once again.

He is standing in ankle-high water. It was so dark as to be almost black, and it stretched out before him as far as the eye could see. All of it still and unmoving. There is mist, almost white in color, floating and swirling atop the water.

Obi-Wan looks and notices something strange. His right leg seems vibrant in a way that the rest of his form is not. He reaches out to touch it with his right arm, before noticing that that limb, too, is glowing. The limbs he remembers losing in a duel just before he was here.

Upon investigation, he finds that the rest of his body is dull and almost lifeless. It looks pale and sullen compared to his glowing limbs.

A word from beyond seems to reach his ears.

"Luminous beings, are we, not this crude matter!"

It makes him chuckle, and it feels familiar to him, even though he knows he’s never heard it before.

Suddenly, an orb of glowing light rises from the water in front of him, vibrating and emanating with the force before it shatters into golden dust.

The dust seems to swirl and take form until, there before him, stands Qui-Gon Jinn. His old Jedi Master.

Obi-Wan is bewildered, so much so that he can’t even speak.

Qui-Gon seems to smile. "Ahh... young Padawan, it is good to see you."

Jedi Master Mace Windu does not have much time to grapple with what he’s learned. Instead, he must rush off to an emergency meeting in the Senate to deal with the death of the Supreme Chancellor.

There is little Mace enjoys less than standing before the Senate Body. He loves the Republic, perhaps too much in some ways, but the Senators? The less said about them, the better.

The Senatorial Rotunda that hosted the Galactic Senate Building on Coruscant was a building of luxury and wealth. It dominated the skyline in much the same way the Jedi Temple or Executive Offices of the Republic did.

Many who walked the Coruscant grounds and undercity saw the building as a symbol of everything wrong with the galaxy. It was filled to the brim with senators that cared little for the people they represented and those that needed help and support across the galaxy.

Instead, it was filled almost entirely with those that cared only to line their own pockets and the pockets of their friends.

Now, the rotunda is nearly surrounded by starships and news vehicles just outside the no-fly zone, all looking to get shots and information on those entering and leaving the Senate. More importantly, they are looking to get pictures of the Jedi.

Mace was aboard a Coruscant transport with Masters Adi Gallia and Oppo Rancisis, the two Jedi Masters on the Jedi Council who were not injured or killed in the fight with Palpatine. They sat in silence, and there was an uneasiness that was much deeper than only a few days prior. It had seemed like the death of Count Dooku was going to bring only good news regarding the war. To learn that the leaders of both factions were Sith Lords would not bode well for the public perception of the Jedi.

Sadly, the news had already broken across Coruscant, and likely, the galaxy. As far as the public knew, the Jedi had shown up at the executive offices of the Supreme Chancellor late at night and assassinated him in a bid to seize power for themselves.

Never mind the fact that the Supreme Chancellor was a Sith Lord and a Separatist. Never mind the fact that the Jedi had the legal authority to do as they did.

The court of public opinion had already branded them as traitors.

The consequences of his actions seemed to be unraveling before him. Anti-Jedi sentiment had been on the rise for a long time, but it had never seemed this serious. Not an hour passed that Mace didn’t regret thinking through everything that went down just the night before.

Master Yoda had been found on the steps of the Jedi Temple, deep in a force trance, and taken to the medical center. Obi-Wan had apparently seen some improvement, and Mace still needed to speak to Knight Skywalker. If Mace had practiced more caution, perhaps Master Tiin might’ve still been alive.

They were very lucky that things had turned out the way they did. That this was a good result, one where the Jedi were hated, the Republic turned against them, and the war continued onward, spoke very dark things about the future that might’ve been with Palpatine holding all the strings.

Now, they had to deal with all the puppets who didn’t have their puppet master. Mace felt a grave premonition in the force... this would not be a fun meeting before the Senate.

What few knew is that the Jedi Order held a Senatorial Pod within the Galactic Senate Building. It was rarely used these days, but it was useful when the Jedi had something to present or a reason to speak in front of the Galaxy. Mace stood in it now, next to his Jedi compatriots, and looked down upon the rest of the Senate.

Mas Amedda, Palpatine’s Vice Chair, seemed to have disappeared, similarly to all Palpatine’s agents. Thusly, there was no executive member who could preside over the Republic Senate. Instead, the senator who had called the emergency session stood in the middle of the Senate, where only days before the Supreme Chancellor had announced Dooku’s death.

Senator Bail Organa of Alderaan is the moderator, and despite his friendship with the Jedi, Mace had a feeling that would not make him act with any bias.

The Senate itself was a mess. Almost every single senatorial pod was filled with their representatives. Usually, even when free, senators would miss meetings for ‘more important’ things, like lining their pockets or wasting money on expensive lunches. Not today.

Today, the Senate building was a cacophony of noise. Yelling and screaming before the session had even began. Between yells of "Treason!" and "Traitors!" to the milder "Separatists!" and an overall angry attitude directed towards himself, Mace did not expect this to go well.

Padme Amidala, Senator of Naboo, sat in her Senatorial Pod, trying to process everything that had occurred. The Supreme Chancellor had revealed himself as a Sith to Anakin. Then, Anakin told the Jedi. A Jedi Master was killed, Ahsoka, Anakin, and Obi-Wan boarded a medical LAAT back to the Jedi Temple, and then Mace Windu spent the rest of the night and early morning stonewalling the Senate until this emergency session.

Ahsoka had sent a single message, early in the morning, saying, "We’re all alive. Obi-Wan is gravely injured. Anakin killed Palpatine. He isn’t talking."

A strange calm has settled over Padme these past few hours. She hasn’t slept, but between speaking with Bail and formulating her own plans, she is perfectly, terribly calm. There will no doubt be accusations thrown at her in the coming days. Chancellor Palpatine was the last Senator of Naboo. He was, in some sense, her confidante in the Senate.

She was always aware that his politics were different than hers. He was more prone to action and wanted to solve an issue no matter the cost. It hadn’t seemed so bad only a few days ago. Now, though?

It all seemed to spell out something much more terrible. Padme didn’t know what to think. Not about the Chancellor, not about the Jedi... and not about Anakin.

Anakin was hurt. And in some ways, he was still very damaged by the things done to him when he was younger. Between growing up a slave, and then being inducted into the Jedi Order... there was much wrong about their relationship. She’d always known this, of course. But it was fun to have a tryst with a Jedi. To be in love with someone so passionate with a secret so scandalous.

But with the same sense of calm that had settled over her and had settled over her during the times she’d entered battle or feared for her life, she recognized that something would have to change.

She would be investigated. Questioned and looked at closer than possibly any other for her shared heritage with Palpatine. For his assistance in her ascension to the position of Queen and later Senator. That attention would uncover the many mistakes Anakin and she had made in the past couple of years.

The Jedi would find out, and maybe so too, would the Republic. She loved him, but would love be enough for the coming months?

Bail Organa only has the appearance of comfort as he stands in the position that was normally held by the Supreme Chancellor or the Vice Chair. The noise within the Senate Chambers calls back to just before the Clone Wars started, when the walls echoed with the yells and cries of various senators, all wishing to have their voices heard before the session began.

Bail looks at the chronometer on the screen in front of him as it ticks to 10:00 in the morning. He clears his voice slightly, and prepares to do what he has never been comfortable doing. Taking control, forcing others to listen to his words, and exhibiting his authority—this was a role better fit for the Supreme Chancellor.

Bail Organa, Prince Consort and Senator to the Queen of Alderaan, was an even-tempered, well-spoken, but reserved man. He did not want power, nor was he interested in keeping the power he did have for any longer than necessary. But what he did know was that he was a man that many listened to.

He was the man who spoke out for peace in the middle of the war. He was the man found on the front lines, delivering supplies and food to the dispossessed and those looking for refuge. Though he was never a man to brag, he recognized that his actions in just the past few years had given him a voice that many listened to. Respect gained from the more moderate faction in the Senate.

Even his political opponents, those that originally called him a Separatist for his words, could no longer contest that he had the Republic’s best interest in mind.

So, when he had spoken to his faction about who should call the emergency meeting and who should moderate the session, there had really only been one option.

His voice, singular, cutting through the outcries and white noise of the chambers, "Order! I will have order in this session, or we will never finish what we came here to do."

Much of the noise was cut away, though there were some who waited for the noise to die out to call one last "Traitors!" at the Jedi.

A Senate Cam droid, flying on its repulsorlifts up to record Bail’s face. The slightly intelligent droid sat and waited for him to speak.

His voice rang out, still calm but unamplified, "We’ve come here today to ascertain the truth of events that occurred last night around 22-hundred hours in the Executive Chambers of the Supreme Chancellor between certain Jedi Masters, including one Jedi Master Mace Windu, Jedi Grandmaster Yoda, and the former Supreme Chancellor. Jedi Master Mace Windu...I would like your account of the events from last night."

The bald, Korun Jedi Master stepped forward to the edge of his pod and looked out over the rest of the chambers with his stern face.

Bail had many reservations about the Jedi, but he understood that, for the most part, they were a moralistic warrior religion, and that had the best interests of the Republic in mind. Certain Jedi, like any other group, were less trustworthy or more prone to mistakes than others.

He had spoken to Yoda many times, and in some cases, about Jedi Master Windu, and so he knew that much of Windu’s reactions towards things were filtered through his unique connection to the Force. Still... if he hadn’t known better, Mace Windu looked like a man untroubled by his actions last night. As if executing the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic was an annoyance more than anything.

He could only imagine how those who knew nothing of the Jedi saw Master Windu.

The Jedi Master spoke, "Last night, I received word from a Jedi informant, close to the Chancellor. He had received some troubling information regarding the Supreme Chancellor."

A Neimodian yelled out, "Who was the informant?"

"That is confidential."

A chorus of grumbling and whispered words rose around the chambers, somewhat disbelieving and somewhat angry.

Mace continued, "I was with Jedi Masters Yoda, Saesee Tiin, and Obi-Wan Kenobi, wandering the temple grounds. We had all sensed a disturbance and a foreboding warning from the force. When the informant reached us, they told us that Supreme Chancellor Palpatine had revealed himself as a Sith—"

The noise in the Senate rose and cut Windu off.

Cries from senators reach Mace’s ears and only serve to increase his annoyance.

"OUTRAGEOUS!" cried one Senator.

"Impossible!" another.

"Treason, you should be executed before the High Court!" That one was perhaps a bit aggressive.

Palpatine had managed to twist the Senate so completely around his finger. The moderates, while disappointed, had been behind Palpatine himself. A wise, kindly old man who wanted the best for the Republic and perhaps had an overly judicial hand. They knew he was slightly authoritarian, but not the full extent of it.

The extremists on one end had already been rooted out of the chambers years ago when the Separatists seceded.

That left a Senate that was composed of Palpatine devotees and staunch supporters of the war and authoritarianism. And now, after his death, they were seeing red towards the one who had killed their figurehead.

Bail Organa seemed to be trying to get control over the chambers, but to little avail as the cries grew louder and showed no signs of stopping.

Mace, however, wasn’t dealing with it today. He bunched the force around his vocal chords and silenced the chambers, "Enough!"

"I am going to continue my testimony, and you are all going to listen. Then, I will be submitting the Jedi’s findings and reports to the council for all to see. The evidence is damning, I do not require you to believe it. It is truth."

Mace felt the resentment and anger around the Senate, but there wasn’t much they could say in protest. He was a Jedi, a General of the Republic, and he had rights here that they did not.

The only one who could overrule him was the moderator of the session, who didn’t seem to be intervening.

Or the Supreme Chancellor, of course.

Too bad he was dead.

"After receiving word of these grave accusations, the Jedi Masters I was with all boarded a LAAT and headed to the Executive Building. The entire building was empty. There were no guards or other personnel, and we made our way to the Supreme Chancellor."

A murmur spread throughout.

"When we arrived, I used the powers granted to me as a Jedi Master of the Jedi Council, in accordance with the Ruusan Reformation, which this Senate passed over a thousand years ago, which gave me the right to arrest and investigate any person, up to and including the Chancellor of the Republic, if I believed they had committed a treasonous act or were a Sith."

The chambers rose in volume again, and a modulated voice was heard calling out, "You shouldn’t have that right!"

Mace glared at the Ithorian who had spoken. "Whether or not I should have that right is unimportant in these circumstances. I do have that right. We lit our sabers in defensive positions. The Chancellor then committed an act of treason. He used the force to grab a red lightsaber and then attacked us."

There was apparent disbelief throughout the chambers. Palpatine had the appearance of a kind old man who sometimes had trouble getting around. He was spry for an elderly gentleman, sure, but to attack four armed and experienced Jedi Masters? It seemed preposterous.

"We dueled. At the end of the duel, Master Tiin was killed, Master Kenobi lost two limbs and was in critical condition, and Master Yoda had been thrown through the Chancellor’s window into a several hundred-story fall. He survived but is also in the medical center."

He looked out over the rest of the senators of the Republic, trying to look as many of them in the eye (or eyes) as possible.

"I do not care if you believe it or not. Regardless, proof enough for his arrest and execution was found on his personal computers, datapads, and in a safe house in the industrial district. I’ve given you the liberty of uploading all the data the Jedi are releasing at this time to the Senate database. Good day."

With that, Mace Windu turned around and walked out of the Senate chambers, flanked by the two Jedi Masters that came with him.

In those files was a wealth of incriminating information. Hopefully, enough to convince enough of the Senate that Chancellor Palpatine was a Sith Lord and had been supporting both sides of the war.

Almost all the data they had found within the 12 hours since his fight with Palpatine had been uploaded. He only held back Palpatine’s plans for Anakin. Although he had many questions, he needed to ask Knight Skywalker in the coming days, through this time he had come to respect him, in a sense.

The man could be a brat from time to time, and prone to too much anger at the flip of a switch, but when it came down to it, he was willing to do what needed to be done. That did not, however, excuse his use of the Dark Side and his actions recently. A fine line needed to be walked. What the Jedi sought was justice. Too often, the pursuit of vengeance and death could be disguised as something noble.

Chapter Text

As Mace Windu left the Senate Chambers, the room turned back into what resembled a busy shopping market on some backwater planet across the galaxy. Bail quickly pursued the most surface level of information given to him by the Jedi council before looking back at the Senators around him.

"Order!" The room quieted some, but the sound of audible voices and murmurs continued.

"I'm calling a recess, so the Senate may look over this new information and deliberate upon it. We will resume the session in 30 minutes.

Bail quickly pressed a button and let the executive pod lower itself back down to the base floor before walking over to the desk meant for the Supreme Chancellor during sessions of the Senate.

He quickly transferred the information from the Senate databanks to a personal datapad before sending a message to Padme Amidala and Mon Mothma.

They'd likely need more than just 30 minutes to review everything, but it was the best he could do for now. The death of a sitting chancellor was always a mess, ever since the dawn of the Republic. But this? This was a nightmare.

Mace sat aboard the LAAT Dropship, flying back towards the Jedi Temple and meditating on all he'd revealed to the Senatorial Chambers. Likely, whatever was released there would make it to the general public before the day was even over.

He'd decided to release everything. Or, almost anything, sparing only the information directly related to Knight Skywalker.

Among these documents and releases was evidence of collusion, corruption, and injustice among many senators. Those who had been bribed, coerced, or wished to lick the boots of Palpatine would find themselves in quite an awkward position. No doubt, many of them would be calling for his head and the head of any of the Jedi involved in the death of the Chancellor.

The only saving grace was that Anakin was well-loved by the Republic. Something that Mace had disliked on many occasions in the past and something that he now needed to survive the coming crisis. Even without the war, there was little way to tell how the gears of politics would turn for the Republic.

What was most disconcerting was the evidence of Palpatine's direct involvement in the war. They had found proof of accounts, wiring information, deposits, and all financial documents from the InterGalactic Banking Clan labeled under Damask Holdings.

Upon investigation, Damask Holdings was owned by Palpatine in some fashion, though there wasn't quite proof he had direct ownership rather than just access. Hego Damask, the original owner, and creator of Damask Holdings, had been a political supporter of Palpatine in the early days of his time as a Senator.

Hego Damask died shortly, coincidentally, right before Palpatine's ascension to Supreme Chancellor.

There was another, Hego Damask II, who was apparently an Admiral in the CIS Navy who had gained access to the accounts 8 hours after the death of Palpatine. If that wasn’t suspicious, Mace wasn’t quite sure what was.

The fact that these Damask Holdings were used to make payments to the Cloners on Kamino and many of the Separatist armies and weapons development companies told a worrying story.

The war had been a ruse. Not entirely fabricated, the conflict between the Separatist factions and the Republic had been coming for centuries. And though those tensions likely were manipulated many years ago by the Sith, the true crime was Palpatine's efforts to lengthen the war. To push as many planets to the brink, to cause as much damage as possible, to take more and more power for himself.

It was apparent now what the Chancellor planned to do—slowly accumulating more and more power until he could legally take control of the Republic, forcing the Jedi to accept the decision because it was what the Republic and its senators chose.

The Jedi would never have stood for a Sith as the ruler of the Republic, but there was a good chance they would never have even known. Mace had been having suspicions about the geniality and innocence of Palpatine, sure, but even he had never suspected that Palpatine was a Sith Lord.

It made Mace nauseous even thinking about what the future may have told.

He can't quite help feeling so anyway about what future was still to come.

Bail stands once again before the Senate.

The difference, this time, is that it is in complete disarray.

The Jedi hadn't organized anything they'd dumped on the Senate's lap, and every Senator had a different level of information depending on what they'd read or prioritized and if they were competent in the first place.

It was also likely that many of them were still receiving updates on the data from their staff and aides as the Senate session continued.

Typically, in a circumstance like this, one would call for a recess to deliberate the new information.

Bail wasn't inclined to do so. Instead, he felt the need for quick and just action.

His voice, firm and authoritative, echoes out across the chambers. "I bring forward a motion! A special body must be created to investigate all the happenings from last night's events and the information we've just been given."

He takes a single breath, continuing before someone got the idea to shout over him.

"This body would investigate collusion, corruption, and law-breaking among this Senatorial body and throughout the government, and investigate the death of the chancellor, along with the legitimacy of these claims."

For a moment, much of the Senate is silent, thinking about these words. Finally, a human senator speaks up. "Surely you do not mean to say the Jedi are lying to the Republic?"

A murmur rises around the Senate, not loud enough to be disruptive but enough to concern Bail.

Had distrust of the Jedi truly gone so far?

"Regardless of the legitimacy of these claims, regardless of whether or not the actions last night were justified, things must be considered," Padme says from her senate pod. "I believe the Jedi are telling the truth, and the evidence certainly speaks to Chancellor Palpatine being a Sith, which I trust implicitly."

Padme takes a moment to shift her clothing for a quick moment before taking a deep breath. "However, one thing cannot be forgotten. The Jedi, using their power as Generals in the Republic's Army, burst into the Chancellor's private chambers, exhibited extra-judicial powers, and executed the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic."

This, Bail understands, is the consequence. One he does not feel is wrong or unfair either. The Jedi should have to be held to the same laws as the Republic citizens in most situations, even if this one needed their intervention.

It was a strange conundrum. The Jedi should never have had the permission or authority to remove the Chancellor from power, let alone by executing him. But, at the same time, it was an overall moral good for both the Republic and the galaxy as a whole.

It was why the Republic had needed to trust the Jedi for millennia. The power they held could be easily abused if it wasn't maintained by an organization that historically was vehemently against the abuse of power and violence.

How times had changed.

And Bail feels it now, in the energy of the room. The dissatisfaction towards the Jedi. Some of which, he knows, is legitimate. But he can't help but feel like these are the webs that Palpatine laid before his death. Ones that even now still draw the noose tighter for his enemies, and the Jedi in particular.

Palpatine might be dead, but they haven't felt the last of his influence yet.

Anakin Skywalker. Jedi Knight. Hero With No Fear. Sithkiller. Murderer. Betrayer.

He stares at his right arm, brass and silver and gold coloring in an elegant display of technology and mechno-arm advancements—many of which he'd designed or invented himself.

He remembers spending days, weeks, and months working on his arm after that fateful first battle with Count Dooku. He remembers the rage he felt, the terrible purpose that drove him insane with anger and a desire for revenge.

And in all of that, he remembers the work it took to retrain himself. To learn to use a lightsaber all over again. It was hell.

He let the hell remake him into the warrior he needed to be. For the war, to save all those he could. To never let anyone get the better of him again.

He felt such anger, such love, such hate back then.

Now he only feels empty.

He looks, analyzing every servo, every gear, every bit of robotics he's memorized and mastered of himself.

And then he turns his eyes upwards toward other mechanical limbs.

They aren't stylish or sleek, not in the way that Anakin wanted, no. They are utilitarian, without flair.

A mechanical arm, a mechanical leg, and stitching of flesh and metal all down Obi-Wan's right side. A new arm and a new leg, not dissimilar to Anakin's own.

It tastes like ashes in his mouth at that moment. He did this. It was his fault.

Anakin has tried so hard all his life to have everything. But most of all, he's sacrificed himself time and again to save the ones he loves.

And yet.

Every time.

He fails. And it's all his fault.

First, with his mother on Tattooine. If only he had listened to the dreams. If only he'd come back as he'd promised.

And now, Obi-Wan had lost half his limbs, and Palpatine was dead.

Anakin isn't stupid; he knows Palpatine manipulated him. But it was so real. At that moment, even at this moment, Anakin knows that Palpatine meant it. That Palpatine truly did see Anakin as progeny, as something to be safeguarded and protected.

And was manipulation and lying such a high price to pay? For protection? For love?

But he'll never know because Palpatine was dead at his hands.

He hears Ahsoka fidgeting with his lightsaber, kicking her feet, doing anything to distract herself from the situation, from the now.

Anakin recognizes at this moment how good of a person she is. Silently by her Master's side, willing to comfort him at a moment's notice. He wants to say something to her, to acknowledge her.

But he doesn't. And Anakin doesn't want to be comforted.

He wants to be hurt. Thrown across the room, yelled at, screamed at. Punished for his transgressions, for the blood on his hands.

He should be locked up in prison for his actions. For his betrayal.

He doesn't feel like he deserves kindness. Or comfort. I don't deserve love, he thinks, and he believes it.

Time and again, he's thrown away those who loved him. Dead or injured by his hand or his inaction.

Anakin is a magnet for death and destruction; even being close by is a risk of being caught in the crossfire.

He looks at Obi-Wan's form, floating in bacta, half-human, half-machine. It's a miracle he's even alive.

That should've been me.

Anakin could see Ahsoka sit up out of the corner of his eye, her eyes on Anakin, no doubt feeling the tremor in the force and his reaction to it, his response to whatever dark thread wove around him in some far-off reality.

She starts to speak, "Master—"

But she was cut off by an open door and the long stride of Jedi Master Mace Windu. There is a pause in his gait as he comes upon Anakin, and his eyes show a sympathy Anakin has never received from the Korun Jedi Master.

"We have a lot to talk about... Anakin."

Anakin's eyes don't leave his Master, his friend, Obi-Wan.

"The council and I have learned much about Palpatine's plans. It is obvious now that he intended to stage a political coup, taking over the Republic from within, in a fashion that even the Jedi could not have contested, and done so without ever using the force. By doing this, he would have the Empire he so craved, and the Jedi would never have known he was a Sith."

For all the time that Anakin had spent, his mind racing a mile a minute, it was strange to experience such calm in these moments. Or perhaps calm was not the right word for it.

"There is little doubt now that he planned on his next Sith apprentice after Count Dooku to be you, Knight Skywalker. It is evident that he has been guiding, manipulating, and grooming you since you first set foot on this world all those years ago."

No, calm was not the right word. Apathy. Anakin felt apathetic.

"Every meeting he set up, every favor he granted, every ear he lent was just a tactic to gain your trust."

And yet Anakin could hardly blame him. Palpatine had called Anakin his heir. His son. It wasn't so unnatural to want the trust of that, would it? More than that, Palpatine had always looked out for Anakin. Had sacrificed real political favor and assets, and time for Anakin. Was it only considered manipulation when you didn't like it?

Was it only manipulation because the Jedi hated the Sith?

There is a pause in the room here. Anakin's sharp hearing, vital throughout the war and exhausting now, registered all the sounds in the room. The low hum of the medbay buzzes on quietly, unnoticing, the bacta tank holding Obi-Wan's very life in the balance bubbling away without a care. Ahsoka lets out a shaky breath, her previously fidgeting hands perfectly still around Anakin's lightsaber. Anakin has the sudden realization that none of this is known to her; nobody has told her anything since the fateful moment last night.

She's quiet now in a way that Anakin had never managed to evoke. She's so young, barely into her teens, Anakin thinks, with a failed master and a broken Jedi Order to follow.

Windu doesn't seem to notice this, doesn't seem to notice Ahsoka even in the room.

"We... know about you and Padme as well."

Anakin's vision, which was blurry up until this exact moment, snaps into pinpoint accuracy; his hair flies against the sides of his face as he flips around to meet Windu's gaze, leaving Obi-Wan for the first time.

His heart fires up again like it is just waiting for the next thing to go wrong. When will the horrors stop coming?

Anakin knew that he couldn't keep Padme secret from the Jedi forever, especially not if they ever wanted to live in peace, but he thought they had more time. Time enough until the end of the war, at least, when he could leave the Jedi Order at peace, leaving the galaxy better than he found it.

But now?

Now Palpatine was murdered. His Master was mutilated. His apprentice was scarred. And now his marriage? His life?

And it was all his fault.

What would Windu do?

"We have significant proof at this point that Palpatine planned on using that relationship to manipulate you into his hands. While we—"

Mace's words fade into the background as a single piece clicks into place.

A million words, a thousand conversations. Whispered words to Padme in the dead of night and nightmares that came without ceasing.

The fear. The terror. The dragon. The endless biting and gnawing at the center of Anakin's very being. The feeling that's always been there.

And in this, Anakin cannot discern the difference between the Palpatine he has always known and loved and the Palpatine that would tighten their hands around Padme's neck if it meant Anakin's allegiance.

Did Palpatine not tell him last night that Padme was in danger? That only Palpatine could protect her?

Was he right?

Could Anakin even afford the chance?

Mace sees the conflict in Knight Skywalker's face. There is none of the anger and rage that usually accompanied many of Skywalker's actions or revelations these recent months.

Without Palpatine, without a snake whispering righteous fury into the ears of a younger mind, Anakin was lost. Rudderless without direction.

Mace recognizes at this moment that Anakin has likely not been guided by the Jedi Order in a long time. By Obi-Wan, maybe. By a Master's duty to their Padawan, perhaps. But the Jedi purpose overall? Their beliefs?

With Yoda still in a force trance and most of the council either dead, injured, or off-world, Mace had to come to some sort of executive decision.

It wasn't an easy one, even if it was apparent.

Anakin Skywalker was not fit to be a Jedi Knight. And if Mace was honest with himself, Skywalker was barely qualified to be anything right now.

Powerful, strong, dutiful, and loyal to those he called his own, yes. But he was also broken. Hurt. Dangerous.

Ahsoka waits to see anything of the Master she knows to come to the surface. She waits for the attitude, for the anger, for earnestness and caring, and all the other things that came together to make Anakin Skywalker.

But there is only a single thing that reminds her of him in that vacant expression listening, the emptiness in his eyes, and the tears rolling down his cheeks.

Loss. Hopelessness. The feeling that no matter what he did to stop it, no matter how powerful he became, he could still do nothing to prevent all those he cared about from being hurt or killed.

That's all that's left of Anakin in that expression.

And it breaks Ahsoka a little.

She's spent the past 6 hours fiddling with her Master's lightsaber. She was tracing the scratches and chips from countless battles and countless drops from high distances, trying to feel her Master in the blade.

She is not Quinlan Vos, and so she cannot feel the memories and see the past of the blade. See what it was used for. See what happened in those split seconds before her Master killed the Chancellor.

But what she can feel is the loss. The fear. The anger. The constant war between a soul who wanted to do so much good and the absolute terror of losing everything. The battle between the light and the dark in the blade Anakin carried.

Your weapon is your life, after all.

Ahsoka is brought out of her reverie by the smooth voice of Master Windu.

"Knight Skywalker, through this period, while you are still healing— mentally, physically, and spiritually, it is for the best that you are relieved of your status as General of the Republic and Jedi Knight of the Jedi Order."

Ahsoka saw this coming, in a way. Anakin wasn't fit to lead himself right now, let alone a legion or battalion of troops who counted on him and depended on him for their livelihood. Dooku and Palpatine might be dead, but General Grievous was still out there.

Mace Windu paused for a moment, then continued. "You are not in trouble, nor are you being charged with any crimes, for you have committed none. This is not a punishment."

Ahsoka watches Anakin's countenance change. Unlike a month ago, when this would've drawn a fury out of him that could've gotten him in trouble, Anakin's shoulders slump, and his eyes close in relief.

Ahsoka feels in the force as her Master's presence lightens just a little, the weight of his shoulders. For the first time in years.

Anakin speaks, his voice weak and unused, "Okay... that's probably for the best."

Ahsoka tries not to overthink how weak he sounds. How broken.

"With that decision, Padawan Ahsoka Tano will be removed as your apprentice until a time where you are reinstated with those roles and ready to train again."

Ahsoka waits for a second, just a second, to look at Anakin. She doesn't like what she sees, so she responds, looking at Master Windu.

"What! Master! I still want to be trained by Anakin," she turns, looking at Anakin, "come on, Master, tell him!"

She searches his face, his eyes, for anything. She just wants to see anything to know her Master is still there. He looks pained, weary, and exhausted. But he doesn't protest.

There are so many things Anakin wants to say to her at that moment. How much better of a Master he wishes he was, how good she was for him, how proud of her he is.

He doesn't know why, but he doesn't say any of it, and it breaks his heart.

From the look on Ahsoka's face, it breaks hers too.

Mace, ever the brick wall of emotions, continues, "be that as it may, Anakin is in no state to take on the responsibilities of another being, no matter the relationship between you two. Trust me; you will be well-trained and taken care of until Skywalker can resume his duties again."

Ahsoka is still outraged. "I don't care if I'll be well-taken care of; I don't want another Master; I want Anakin!"

Anakin cuts Windu off before he responds, "Snips...this is for the best."

She turns back to him again, and Anakin feels like more of a monster when he sees the tears and sadness in her eyes. And in the force, he can feel how abandoned she feels.

Anakin just feels numb.

He doesn't notice when she runs out of the room, crying. Nor does he see Master Windu turn quietly and leave.

All Anakin can do is look at his hands. Feel the blood on them.

All Anakin can do is listen to the thumping of Obi-Wan's heartbeat in the bacta tank.

Obi-Wan isn't quite sure how much time has passed since he entered this realm, nor is he sure how long has passed in the living world as he began to learn from the spectral forQui-Gon, his old and now new again Master.

Master Yoda had joined them some time ago. Whether it was weeks or years, Obi-Wan wasn't exactly sure. Not that such things mattered in a place like this.

"You are growing much stronger now than you were before you entered this place," the wise, strong voice of Master Qui-Gon interrupted his thoughts.

Obi-Wan didn't exactly have a body to flex and test the muscles of, but the thought was true all the same. He felt much more himself than he had when his spirit had lazily drifted over this plane. This temporal space in the Cosmic Force drew something strong out of Obi-Wan.

"How is it that I can become so much stronger staying here? I could feel myself dying and passing into the force just before."

"The Cosmic Force came before the Living. In the end, all things will one day return to the Cosmic when all life ends, and the Universe folds in on itself. By strengthening your connection with the Cosmic Force, it becomes much easier to strengthen yourself in the Living as well."

Obi-Wan looked over to where a haggard and worn Master Yoda was meditating.

"Why, then, does Master Yoda look just as weak as he was when he entered this place?"

Qui-Gon turned and looked at Obi-Wan, raising his hand to his chin and humming a low note.

"That, I presume, would be because of how long Master Yoda has spent in the living. He may be very attached to the force and very in tune with it, but most of that is the Living force."

"So, because I am younger, and likely because I still remembered some of your teachings on the difference between the Cosmic and Living, I am growing stronger, and he is not?"

"Yes and no. Master Yoda is also reaching the end of his lifespan. No being can retain a physical form forever without bearing the consequences of it. We were not made to inhabit physical forms forever. His is dying."

Master Yoda? Dying? It was not a thought anyone in the Jedi Temple would have assumed of the Grandmaster. Most Jedi presumed that in the same way that Yoda had lived long before their time, he would continue to live long after it.

Qui-Gon continued, "but that is not a discussion for now. You must depart this place."

Obi-Wan was confused, "leave? But I have so much more to learn from you, Master!"

Qui-Gon did not deny this. "Yes, you do. But more important than that, you have a task that you need your physical self for. The force has allowed you to live on when you otherwise would not have. My only purpose has been to prepare you for what is to come."

Qui-Gon moved swiftly over to Obi-Wan with a sudden urgency.

"You must remember, the Jedi vanquished the Sith and believed them dead before. Do not believe it this time. A darkness grows."

"A darkness? What darkness? Where?"

"You will know in time a power older than Sidious rises to take advantage of the vacuum. Master Yoda will join you in some time. Farewell, my apprentice. I will be near."

Before Obi-Wan had the chance to say goodbye in turn, the entire plane seemed to compress in on itself, flinging Obi-Wan's presence far away from the place he had spent his recovery on.

With a sudden clarity, Obi-Wan felt himself being catapulted back toward his physical form, a strange feeling when he had become so comfortable with a spectral one.

The first thing he felt was pain, a deep, aching soreness that covered his body and went down to the bone. The second, of course, was the thick feeling of being in a bacta recovery tube.

Obi-Wan learned that you could not cry in a bacta tank. He realized this quite suddenly and unexpectedly. He realized it because the third thing he felt was not a physical feeling. The third feeling… was Anakin.

Deep in a dark corner of the galaxy, there sits a slender figure on the bridge of a Providence-class Separatist Capital ship. The bridge is empty, yet, if one were to run a scan of the vessel, one would find thousands of lifeforms aboard. A strange thing on the droid-manned ships found within the CIS Navy.

The figure, a stately member of the Muun species best known for their slender oblong heads and their bulbous, hairless scalps, looks over a datapad with the day's news. He is young for a Muun, most certainly young for the ornate dress uniform he wore and the insignia on his chest. Admiral.

His long fingers scrolled the length of the datapad, coming to a rest at the end.

A deep, yet soft, voice reverberated from the being's vocal cords. The words played about in the space with an air of mischief and deep-seated pleasure.

"Interesting... the Great Plan can finally continue. Time to return from the dead."

There, in the blackness of space, a secret slowly revealed itself. One that not even Darth Sidious, Master of the Dark Side and manipulator of the galaxy, was aware of. If only he had known how close his former Master had gotten to his long-craved immortality.

"You had your turn, my apprentice; now it is mine."

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan sits and appreciates the dramatic irony of Anakin using his own mechanical arm to tinker with the servos in Obi-Wan's new right mechno-arm. He'd already finished working on the leg, waist, and torso, so Obi-Wan was sitting patiently, watching his former apprentice do what he does best.

Unlike Anakin's silver and black aesthetic with his mechanic appendage, Obi-Wan had instead favored something that was more his style. White, powder-coated metal encompassed most of his right side now, with lines of silver running up the length of his body.

He was impressed with Anakin in this. At first, Obi-Wan had been given the standard mechanical appendages and metal adhered to his sides to keep his body functioning and moving. It hadn't taken long for Obi-Wan to get used to the limbs, but they moved slower and more sluggish than his flesh. Like it was a hair shorter in responding to his brain's commands.

He'd been slightly scared that his body would reject all the metal, but... all he needed to do was remember the words of Qui-Gon. "Everything comes from the Cosmic Force... and one day, everything will return."

The metal was just as much 'him' as the flesh was. Both physical. Both are not actually Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Anakin had stayed with him for the full recovery, he was quiet, and Obi-Wan gave him the time to do so as he recovered. But concerning Obi-Wan's mechanical grafting?

His old apprentice had taken one look at the surgeons' work and nearly thrown a fit for the first time since that fateful night months ago.

"My Master deserves a lot more than some two-bit surgeon with no knowledge of properly setting up biomechanics."

Obi-Wan would usually argue and say something humble about not needing any fuss made up about it.

But he couldn't bring himself to tear away that determination he saw in Anakin's eyes. Anakin needed a job he could do. Something he had complete control of. Not war, not politics, not shady relationships with dark lords.

He needed to tinker.

So, Obi-Wan let him tinker for three months. Until even Anakin had to admit, the biomechanics Obi-Wan now used had far surpassed that of what Anakin used. Much of the technology was brand new, never seen or designed before. And all of it was designed by Anakin.

Designs, schematics, and sketches scattered Anakin's room, as well as failed prototypes and his efforts in learning. Obi-Wan had never really taken the time to realize how much of an artist Anakin could be.

Most painters painted with oils, acrylics, or forms of water and dust.

Anakin painted with metal. Designed with mechanics. If Anakin hadn't been destined to be a Jedi Knight, he would have made the best mechanic and designer the galaxy had ever seen.

But... he wasn't. And he wasn't a Jedi Knight now, either. There was the possibility of being raised back to a Jedi Knight again, but Anakin had yet to pursue it. Hadn't tried to get Ahsoka as an apprentice again. Hadn't tried to leave Coruscant.

Obi-Wan knew he'd gone to see Padme many times over the weeks, and he'd eaten often with Obi-Wan and Ahsoka when he could.

But Obi-Wan also knew Anakin needed some time without the responsibility of the entire galaxy weighing on his shoulders. None of the Chosen One. None of the Hero Without Fear.

So, Obi-Wan did his best to make sure that happened. He spent nearly all his time with his former apprentice, rambling about everything and everything. Avoiding the topic of Palpatine most of the time.

Anakin would speak back in quiet words. Giving his thoughts on one thing or another. He healed over weeks and months. And likely, he would continue to heal for years to come, but progress was forthcoming.

"Much of the war has come to a standstill. Jedi are returning to the Temple in greater numbers; no doubt you've noticed, of course."

Obi-Wan waited a moment. Then waited for another; Anakin took a little longer to speak nowadays; before he continued. "With Grievous in hiding and Serenno having gone quiet, the CIS Senate has had time to actually be a Senate. There are talks of an armistice."

Anakin quirked up one side of his lips in a half-smile. "That's good. Nice to see Padme has been getting through to them."

Padme had been one of the first to reach out to the Separatist Senate after the death of Palpatine. Ever the peacemaker, much of the current communication stemmed back to her work and determination.

All the fingers in Obi-Wan's right hand jerked into a closed fist as Anakin soldered something into Obi-Wan's wrist. Progress in many forms.

"Agen Kolar was added to the council yesterday. He was always a good choice in the event of any council member's death or retirement. He's a good dueler."

Anakin made a small huff of disagreement, bringing a smile to Obi-Wan's face.

He tested the waters, "yes, I know, you've wiped the floor with him in the past in training duels. Not everyone can be as gifted with a blade as you, my friend."

Anakin smiled softly at that. Again, progress. Before, any mention of dueling, fighting, or Anakin's prowess was met with derision or apathy. Or sometimes anger.

Anger was usually only involved when Palpatine was the subject.

Sessions with mind healers and long talks with Obi-Wan into the night had given Anakin much more control and understanding of the situation than before, but... it had also brought out a wave of anger in Anakin.

Not malevolent anger, Obi-Wan personally thought, but the anger that Anakin felt towards slavers and towards Watto.

Apathy and confusion about his relationship with Palpatine had turned into a resolve to never be controlled again. To never be ruled again. What had been mourning the grandfather/father/mentor relationship he'd had with the former Chancellor had become a drive.

A goal. A task. It strengthened Anakin. Gave him a new purpose. Made him pick up a blade again.

Obi-Wan knew it would only be some time before the council called Anakin before them to reinstate him. He also had the feeling Anakin would not accept it.

Much had changed when Obi-Wan had spent time meditating with Qui-Gon on that foreign plane. One of those things was a penchant for seeing paths toward the future.

Not as Mace did, with his shatterpoints and seeing events to come. Obi-Wan saw it more like... an intuition and understanding of living beings. His negotiation skills… but enhanced to 11.

Anakin would never choose the Jedi over Padme. Not anymore. Possibly not even before this. He would be willing to fight again, perhaps. Protect his friends and family.

Obi-Wan was brought out of his ruminations by a loud snap and Anakin locking Obi-Wan's mechanical wrist back together.

"Thinking again, Master?"

"I'm not your Master anymore, Anakin, and I have little left to teach you that you don't already know. But yes... I have been thinking."

"Woah, that's dangerous. Don't do too much."

"Ha ha. Very funny. I was thinking about how I'm likely to be sent away soon.

Anakin frowned slightly at this. "It is surprising how well you've adapted to losing nearly a third of your body. It took nearly twice as long for me, and I lost only one arm."

"Yes, well, I spoke to you about the Cosmic and Living Force."

"You did. But I wasn’t listening honestly, Obi-Wan, it was a little dry."

Obi-Wan gasped, mock offended, "I'll have you know I spent a lot of time working on that lecture! You should appreciate your Master more."

"Ahhh, former Master, remember? You said it yourself," Anakin said, then continued in a reasonably good impression of Obi-Wan's voice, "I have very little left to teach you' and all that jazz."

"Brat."

"Stubborn."

"Stubborn? Me? You are calling me the stubborn one?"

"Why yes, in fact, I am."

Obi-Wan adopted a voice more like a Coruscanti aristocrat, "well, frankly, I'm offended at your disrespectful words."

Anakin laughed, "you know you sound the exact same when you do that, right?"

Obi-Wan did not.

That's how Ahsoka found them, former Master and Apprentice rolling about the room, trying to contain their laughs while avoiding the absolute mess of metal, spare parts, and paper scattered all around the room.

Ahsoka sighed, "children, the both of you, I swear."

Anakin reigned in his laughter to a few chuckles as Obi-Wan attempted to regain a form of dignity.

Which was a little hard to do while sitting with legs crisscrossed on the floor.

She pointed at Obi-Wan, "you have a council meeting as soon as Master Windu is back from the Senate," she pointed at Anakin, "and you are dueling me in 10 minutes for the younglings to watch."

Obi-Wan uncrossed his legs and hopped into a more dignified standing position (much more dignified than sitting, at the very least) while moving his new modified arm around to test it out. "Yes, I suppose duty calls."

He turned to look at Anakin, "if I get sent away like I think I will, let's set aside some time before I go to practice with these new limbs."

Anakin smiled, pushing himself up from the ground, "sounds like a plan, Master."

Ahsoka watched their interactions with a ghost of a smile. At first, it had hurt Ahsoka that Anakin didn't even try to fight for her apprenticeship with him. But over time, and over a few conversations with the much wiser Obi-Wan, Ahsoka grew to realize that Anakin needed to take care of himself more than taking care of her.

Besides, with both of them stuck to Coruscant for the time being, Anakin could still practice with her and give her tips, so it was like her Master never really left.

She remembers the first time she made him pick up his blade again.

After nearly four weeks of convincing, Ahsoka had managed to get Anakin to spar with her in the training rooms.

She made it seem like all she wanted was to practice with her Master and train with him, but honestly? She wanted him to smile again like he used to. To get that thrill of the fight that he always had. He still refused to touch his lightsaber.

But finally, Anakin had agreed. They set a time and a place, and Ahsoka brought Anakin's lightsaber with her.

Then, much to her confusion, he entered the sparring circle and adopted a ready stance.

"Hey, Master, you forget something?"

No response.

"You know I'm not that bad with a blade, right?"

Still that same blank face.

"All right, if you're gonna be like that, then I'm gonna give you a lesson."

Setting Anakin's lightsaber to the side, she entered the sparring circle and drew her blades.

"I hope you're ready for training-saber burns."

Anakin quirked a single eyebrow, the same way she'd seen Obi-Wan do a thousand times.

"Oh, you insufferable little—"

In a fraction of a second, Anakin sped forward and slammed the palm of his hand into her stomach, knocking her to the ground near the edge of the circle.

Gasping, Ahsoka realized what Anakin was doing.

"Oh, so it's like that, huh. Gonna pull the wise, old Jedi Master on me?"

She pushed herself to her feet, crouching low in a ready position, and turned on her blades to guard herself. If Anakin wanted to fight without a sword, she wouldn't make it easy on him.

And yet, it seemed she did.

Time and time again, as the minutes racked up and they slowly drew a crowd, Anakin would knock her down repeatedly using only his hands and feet, and one particular time when he tackled her.

Ahsoka was bruised, both in body and in spirit, and frankly, she was tired of getting beat up in front of the small crowd they had gathered.

She shifted her stance, throwing her small shoto blade to the side, and adopted the first stance of Djem So. It wasn't so different from the Shien that she usually used, but she felt Anakin was trying to get at something.

Shien was typically used to block blaster bolts.

Djem So was used to fight block and fight lightsaber users.

Immediately, Anakin's lips pulled upwards into a smile. A real one, one of the first Ahsoka had seen since that night with the Chancellor.

Ahsoka launched herself onto the offensive. Anakin was good, very good. Good enough to smack Ahsoka around while using only his hands. But even Anakin got tired over time, and Djem So didn't allow your opponent to falter.

She felt the force move around her, felt the acute power that Anakin wielded with a firm grasp; she couldn't have stopped it if she had tried.

One second she was on the offensive, a defenseless Anakin before her; the next, she was blocking the flurry of Anakin's lightsaber. Even still, she was smiling right back at him as they danced around the sparring circle.

There was a long road to recovery for her former Master. But she knew he'd taken the first step.

Since then, they met almost every day to spar and keep their training sharp. Ahsoka had improved her dueling considerably since then. With all the time on the frontline, much of her practice and training had been dedicated towards deflecting blaster bolts and how to survive against droids.

She'd dueled Ventress before, and she wasn't a slouch with a blade with someone like Anakin as her Master, but she had never dedicated time like she did now towards fighting other force-users with a blade.

For some reason, Anakin continued to spend a significant amount of time dueling and training without a lightsaber, something that he’d never made a point to do in the past. Anakin was well known for always trying to use his lightsaber to fix his problems. Yet another thing that had changed since that fateful night in the Chancellor’s office.

And every day when she and Anakin dueled, they drew a crowd of Padawans, Knights, and even Jedi Masters who wished to watch and learn from one of the best swordsmen at the Temple.

Anakin had even spent some time with other Knights and Padawans, guiding them with their blades. And neither of them missed the whispers of how Anakin had killed the Master Sith, even if Anakin hated to be reminded of it.

As they walked towards the training rooms, Ahsoka couldn't help but ask, "hey, SkyGuy... do you think all this training we're doing will be helpful?"

Anakin didn't think long before he spoke in a low voice, "I don't think it will be long before they're the most important thing you've ever done."

It would take a few years before Ahsoka realized the truth of what Anakin said.

Mace looked around, observing all the Senators and politicians in the room as he stood with the other members of the Jedi Council in the room.

He, Eeth Koth, Ki-Adi Mundi, and Opposis Rancisis had come to hear out prominent members from the Loyalist Committee about the future of the Republic and the state of the war.

No matter the public perception of the Jedi now, they were still the Generals of its military, and Mace Windu, the leading General, while Master Yoda was still in a force trance.

Obi-Wan had said that Yoda was not long from regaining consciousness after he had returned to the living world, though Mace hadn't been greatly inclined to ask how he knew such a thing. Both had gotten very close to death, and though he wasn't likely to admit it, Mace wasn't exactly comfortable with how strange things could get in those moments.

He realized the irony of being a monk in a secretive order who was disinclined to the complex and supernatural. But Master Mace Windu of the Jedi Order always found the logical and rational much more useful to his skills than the otherness and spirituality that his compatriots pursued.

Best not to let his mind wander, though. He let his eyes drift around the room, noting the different Senators. It was a small gathering without food and extravagance but also befitting those in the room.

Padme Amidala, Bail Organa, Mon Mothma, Garm Bel Iblis, Tendau Bendon, and all their various advisers and support staff.

Mace watched as Bail stepped forward and brought his hands together. "Friends, Senators, Jedi Masters, thank you for coming today."

Bail Organa had made for a good sitting Chancellor during such a difficult time. He did his best to remain unbiased and was well-known for being a Senator with a good head on his shoulders. Much as Mace disliked politics, Bail Organa was a good man who played them well.

"Yesterday marks the day that we finally have repealed or replaced all the executive powers that former Chancellor Palpatine drafted and supported to give executive power to himself. All these powers have either been removed entirely or instead placed in the control of various committees, boards, or the entire Senate."

Something that Mace remembers took quite a bit of effort initially. The Jedi had immediately set after those connected to Palpatine who had knowingly supported corruption and evil.

The unfortunate fact was that many of those who supported Palpatine did so not out of corruption or allegiance to evil but simply because they also believed that a firm hand was needed to lead the Republic through the war.

Nearly 5% of the Senate had been directly corrupt in relation to Palpatine, an astronomical number, but not the number they had expected. And the corruption the Senate experienced was something the Jedi could not control.

If a Senator supported bills that lined their own pockets and hurt the people they were elected to help, that wasn't illegal.

Even if it disgusted Mace on a personal level.

Then, even when the Senate had agreed on stripping a single person from all the power the Supreme Chancellor had enjoyed, many did not agree that those powers shouldn't exist.

There was still a defense committee, a security committee, an intelligence and information committee, and all other sorts of organizations and Senators who had no trouble supporting war and power at the head of the Republic.

Even members of the Loyalist Committee were not entirely against such a thing. They were loyalists who believed in the Republic.

But Mon Mothma, who some considered the faction's leader, believed in a strong military, even if she also believed in peace. Her methodology was talking and speaking calmly with force to back it up.

In many ways, Mace envied the Jedi Lords of old, who intervened in the Republic regularly and guided its hand toward justice and peace.

Mace also understood the irony of such a statement.

He was a very conflicted person. Hard not to be, considering his position and abilities.

"With these last repeals, we can finally shift our attention to who should be our next Chancellor. We need someone who can be supported by most of the Senate, can lead the Republic through war, if need be, and can also work with the CIS as necessary."

Mon Motha stepped forward, "we've already come to an agreement among ourselves and mainly wish to inform the Jedi of our decision. I have been supported by our faction as the next Chancellor, and we believe that we have the support in the Senate for this to occur. Bail?"

Bail nodded, "Yes like Senator Mothma said, we believe she is the best person for the position. I grow tired of sitting in the chair, even temporarily, and Padme has refused to consider the position, so the obvious choice is Senator Mothma."

Mothma then turned to look at Mace, "what we brought you here for was to ask you, what is the word from Raxus Prime? I wish for the Jedi to continue to be the peacekeepers they were before the war, and a strong relationship between us is important through this transition."

Mace took a moment to inspect the woman in the force. Like most Senators, she wasn't being entirely truthful. Yes, she did believe in the Jedi as peacekeepers and advisers. Guidance for the Republic. But the shatterpoints that lay around her spoke of her resolve to remove them from military operations.

Jedi as advisers and help to deal with rogue force-users, but not Jedi with the power to decide the future of the Republic.

Mace frowned at that. It wasn't surprising, considering public opinion and the fact that these Senators had seemed uncomfortable with the Jedi's ability to stage a legal coup.

Even if that legal coup was dethroning a Sith Master who wished to turn the Republic into an Empire.

Politics.

"Masters Agen Kolar and Adi Gallia have arrived and been received diplomatically on Raxus Prime by the CIS Senate and Admiral Damask. So far, the offer of an armistice seems genuine, at least by this one Admiral and the Senate. Still, Grievous is hiding with a large part of the Separatist forces, and Sora Bulq on Serrenno is amassing power to separate himself from the CIS."

Bail smiled slightly, "even still, the end of the war is in sight. While we navigate this period, attempting to resolve our issues with the CIS diplomatically is widely preferable to putting them down with an iron fist."

"Yes, but I still have my concerns, as do my fellow Jedi. This Admiral, Hego Damask, claims to be the son of someone very involved in Palpatine's rise to power. Until I hear what he says on that, I have my doubts about his authenticity."

Mon Mothma inserted herself as Bail made to speak, "be that as it may, talks themselves will not hurt the Republic or us. At the very least, knowing a Separatist fleet isn't moving around causing us trouble is worth it alone in speaking with this Admiral. The Chancellor, whoever that ends up being after this next Senate session, has been invited to sit and meet with the Admiral at their earliest convenience, and I plan on being there if I win the election."

"If that is the case, then we will send Jedi Masters with you to guard you against any possible trap."

Mon smiled, "that is all I can ask from the Jedi. Thank you."

Two weeks had passed since four members of the Jedi Council had met with a faction of Senators within the Senate, and already much had changed. Obi-Wan felt like he had missed a year in the space of two weeks.

Mon Mothma had been elected Chancellor of the Republic, her first action being her signature on a treaty with the CIS. Separatist Congress Leader Bec Lawise and the new head of the CIS Military, Admiral Damask, signed the armistice with Mon Mothma in what would be called the Treaty of Raxus Prime.

A document was already being sent by CIS Speaker Lawise to the various senators, corporations, governing bodies, and planets that composed the CIS. However, Obi-Wan knew that only a handful would actually sign the document.

The document declared all those who wouldn't sign Separatist states to the CIS and removed General Grievous and the Executive Separatist Council from authoritative power.

Despite its seriousness, Obi-Wan couldn't deny the humor of declaring planets and people Separatists of a Separatist state. The politics of the situation could get out of hand.

Now, Obi-Wan sat in his seat in the High Council chambers, listening to Mace Windu speak on the state of the galaxy.

“Public opinion progressively gets worse as the tabloids and news programs continue to report on every mistake we've made throughout the war.”

Adi Gallia's voice emanated from her hologram, "here on Raxus, it's much the same. The people blame the Jedi for the state of the war even here. They see Dooku, Palpatine, and the Jedi as all the same. Force-users playing a game on a galactic scale."

"And we can't even say they're entirely wrong. We played right into the Sith's hands by entering the war," Ki-Adi Mundi responded, "something we never should have done."

"And yet, what other decision was there?" Shaak Ti said.

"There were no others. By the time the war started, it was too late." Obi-Wan said.

"Be that as it may, the people of both the Republic and apparently the Confederacy as well don't see it that way," Oppo Rancisis said with a sigh, "and now there is word whispered around the Senate about removing our power over the role as Generals of the Republic."

"And that brings me to my reason for calling us all together. Now is the time to act and strike against dark-side users and those who won't honor the armistice before we are removed from military operations."

"Sora Bulq and the various acolytes and assassins Dooku trained still pose a serious threat. Without the need to be strategic or defend all of the Confederacy's planets, they can create a strong power base built on the dark side of the force and a military to defend them." Eeth Koth had spent the past month communicating with the various Jedi shadows and agents and was the most knowledgeable concerning the actions of Dooku's old acolytes.

Obi-Wan already knew what was next. With him being cleared for active duty once again and already one of the most successful Generals the Jedi had, there was little chance he wouldn't be sent away to fight.

"While I'm still able to act as General of the Republic forces, I'm assembling a strike force to dispatch the fleet amassed above Serenno and capture Sora Bulq and the various dark-side practitioners on the planet."

Mace turned to look at Obi-Wan. "Obi-Wan Kenobi and the 7th Sky Corps will join Ki-Adi Mundi and the 21st Nova Corps in sieging Serenno. May the force be with you."

And so, the Clone Wars continued.

Admiral Hego Damask stood aboard his Providence-class Destroyer above Raxus Prime, awaiting communication from the Executive Separatist Council. San Hill had contacted him the day before, saying they had a message for him.

A Quarren helmsman looked over from his station aboard the bridge, "Sir, we're receiving communication from somewhere in the Mid-Rim."

Hego Damask's smooth voice responded, "Send it through, helmsman."

Instead of Executive Separatist Council, before him stood the famous General Grievous.

"Ah, General Grievous, what a surprise to see you."

"Scum, I have little to say to you. You ally yourself with Jedi and Republic dogs because you are too weak to do anything else. Consider this a declaration of war."

Damask sits and stares at the General, thinking. It's not a surprise and fits into his plans, nonetheless. The Republic needed an enemy to focus on to give Damask time to secure himself, and General Grievous would do nicely.

"Nothing to say? Fine. We will meet soon, Admiral."

The hologram shut off in the absence of a solid connection. Just as Grievous' denial of a treaty was not surprising, neither were the responses or lack of answers he was receiving from the former members of the Confederacy.

The Trade Federation, Techno Union, Geonosian Industries, Commerce Guild, Corporate Alliance, and Hyper-Communications Cartel refused to sign the treaty. Those were just the prominent founding members of the CIS, let alone all the other planets who didn't.

Many still believed that only war would stop the corruption of the Republic, while others were too fearful of reprisal from General Grievous to consider anything else. The reasons for many's displeasure with the Republic had not disappeared with Palpatine and Dooku's death.

For now, it's just the CIS Senate, and the fleet Damask has assembled to defend this new Confederacy and treaty with the Republic.

Damask had faced worse odds before, and besides, he was patient. You can’t run out of time when you had an infinite amount of it, after all.

Speaker Bec Lawise, head of the CIS Senate, had contacted him earlier today, concerned and surprised.

"Many fleets and planets previously under CIS control will disappear or stop taking our orders over the coming weeks," he had told him, "I've gathered all those that I know will be loyal to us here."

No matter his threats, Grievous had much bigger problems on his itinerary than dealing with a small fleet over Raxus. With the Republic's focus off of many CIS worlds, he would need to be more careful with his actions. This provided security for Damask's forces.

Damask hears the tell-tale tone of a new message on his datapad.

Ah, good. As expected, he thought. With San Hill departing with the rest of the Executive Separatist Council, Damask had been appointed Chair of the IGBC. The only contender had been a man named Rush Clovis, but Demask's claim was much more solid, with his 'father' being the former Chair years ago.

With this, Demask now had a solid line to credits, and with credits, he could win this war.

The CIS was a puppet with no real power under Dooku. Demask planned on leading the Separatists differently.

He spoke out to the rest of the living crew members on the bridge. "I will be as Count Dooku should have been. Leading our cause with honor and justice instead of fear."

That was the good thing about sentients. They appreciated a good sentiment much more than a droid.