Gentle folk of the council; before you I stand, a collection of broken pieces. Before you judge me and write me off as abhorrent, I ask- no, I beg, allow me to show that I am no monster. The demon shadow that has been cast on my name is the very same that haunts my every waking hour. Yes, I am the man who made that shadow what it is but I am not wholly to blame. Please do not misunderstand me. What I have done is unforgivable, least of all by your honourable selves. I know that I am guilty. I only contest that I feel no guilt. Sienna skin and a tilted grin burned away any taste of morality that still laced my tongue. I would say my heart but I am not so crude.
My defence begins from this very room. At one time my happiness was incomparable. Could I go back and change things, I would ask that my head be shorn off along with my padawan braid. For if you asked me if I would go back and undo what I did, I would laugh at you. Though I know now what came next, I know I would never ask for anything different. I only wish I had died in that moment. But I was so very much alive! Fire danced within me at the thought of my upcoming trials. My euphoria provided me with an attractive glow. Ah, I can see that offends you. I am not vain by any means but that doesn't mean I am unaware of my charm.
I have grown from babe to man within these walls and thus my view of the world is entirely skewed. The children within this temple transition seamlessly from seen and not heard to 'seen and heard only when asked of them'. As adults they become exceptional Jedi and merely passable people. They are omniscient and dull, as beige as their uniformed robes.
So when on that night, my master had cruelly declared he would take another padawan! That was my first knowledge of jealousy. After all, I had merely been scenery until then. Beige and boring. Here was another equally as beige who was deemed technicolour. Before me stood a rather impish child who smelled of grime and sunshine. I might have revolted and demand that Qui Gon reconsider but I was so enamoured by those damned trials. I confess I did not like the boy. Even when he became my padawan he came with an association of grief. I, who had always been a provisor of peace had been given the gift of a hurricane with no return address. How I tried to be a good master to him. Never had I encountered a less beige child. The Force thrummed in his presence and left me with a constant headache. He was manic and childish and stubborn and seemed to take endless enjoyment in pestering me. I had such dreams for myself. A powerful Jedi on important missions and there I was with a rugrat in tow. All of this made it all the more surprising to me when I became accustomed to the peeter patter of his little feet. I began to long for the feel of the chubby one in my arms when the ghost of Qui Gon had visited. I started to intentionally draw out that little pout that would one day lead us all to wrath and ruin.
That little creature in all his childish and prudent forms became my galaxy and would I not have gone to any lengths to fulfil his every whim? Ask me if I would not! Had it not been for the Jedi vow of poverty the little swain would have been spoiled to the core. But I knew I could not keep him when the world is so big and tempting. When his limbs became less mass and more form and his grin took on a boyish charm, I was lost. How could I possibly hold onto this dazzling creature that had been formed and polished by the sands of Tatooine?
And so now gentle folk, you see the predicament I found myself in. For when I met that little demon he was merely the Skywalker boy standing four feet tall with a furrowed brow. When he became the Chosen One in his formative years, I marked them all on a door post. He was 'Ani' to the lady herself, to his mother (Force rest her). To me, he was Anakin, sleepy, stubborn or curious. He was my Padawan, my little one. Always my-forever my- please all force be good be 'My'! So I say now, punish me as you will. I would love nothing more than to meet my end, my master and 'My' Padawan.