Disclaimer: I still don't speak Scots Gaelic nor Irish Gaeilge aside from a few words ( I do know slightly more Gaeilge though), so if my translations are wrong then blame Google Translate, not me. I also don't own any character that is not my own creation, obviously. Wish I did though. Could use the kind of money Star Wars rakes in. At this point I'm just too lazy to get rid of this disclaimer so it's staying despite getting my point across by now.

Caibideil 17

Sidious was led to the courthouse in one of the most secure motorcades in galactic history; while not an official event there were still thousands on onlookers on the sidewalks watching the once-beloved Palpatine, and still beloved in some circles, the galaxy's grandpa, in chains within an armored vehicle surrounded by AT-TEs and clones marching in formation. A few protestors started chucking rocks and litter at the clones, calling Palpatine a hero and claiming he was being framed, only to be quickly arrested and/or viciously beaten. Extreme, yes, but they could not risk him getting out. Padmé watched on her flimsi as they approached closer to the courthouse. As acting-Chancellor it was her responsibility to oversee the court proceedings for such a high-profile treason case as Palpatine's. She had been on the other side of the bench… a few times… and had acted as council to a defending party before but actually acting as the judge? Could she really handle that?

She took three deep breaths, "Okay Padmé, this will be easy. You just need to read the charges, he'll have no real choice but to plead guilty, and then the jury will suggest punishment for him, you bang the gavel and boom! He's either dead or in jail and that's all you need to do… maybe I could allow myself one cocktail as a reward, NO! No Padmé! Step 1! Step 1!" she whispered to herself. She just needed to focus on Palpatine's case. It would be simple, straightforward, and then it would be over. She took her seat at the bench waiting on Sidious to arrive. The door opened to reveal the Dark Lord, surrounded by clones armed with heavy weapons and even Jedi Temple guards with their yellow lightsabers. She had always thought their masks were creepy but she wasn't one to question thousands of years of ceremonial dress considering half of her wardrobe. Sidious stood at the dais at the bottom of her platform, his face blank. Seemingly void of any thought or emotion at all, she stared into that face, his eyes hollow and haunting. Resisting the urge to shudder, she wondered how the man behind those eyes could have gotten so close to overthrowing the Republic. He even admitted in questioning that he was only a few months away from enacting the final pieces of his plot. Whoever his lawyer was, he was not going to have a fun time trying to defend him.

Taking another gulp of air, she began the proceedings, "The trial has commenced, The Galactic Republic versus Former Chancellor Sheev Palpatine." She paused for a moment, trying to calm herself, "Mr. Palpatine, you are charged with treason, conspiracy to overthrow the government, inciting civil war, enslavement of populations while not a Hutt, three counts of genocide, two of attempted genocide, sedition, espionage for enemy forces, the murders of over 700 people including the late Hego Damask II aka "Darth Plagueis," perjury, electoral fraud, corruption, and bribery of thousands of public officials. How do you plead?" Padmé knew exactly how he would plead, as he had admitted to almost all of that himself during his interrogation.

"I plead 'guilty,'" Sidious answered smoothly, "to all but the counts of genocide. Those massacres were an unfortunate reality of the ongoing war, not a deliberate massacre. At least, not deliberate by me."

Padmé sighed in relief, "Then for now this is no longer a trial, merely a sentencing hearing for the crimes you do plead guilty for. The genocide cases will be held at a later date. Does the prosecution have anything they wish to relay to the jury?"

"We do your honor," the prosecutor answered smiling. He was by far one of the most prestigious prosecutors in the Core Worlds, and adding the trial of a treasonous Chancellor to his resumé? Well he was not going to turn that opportunity down. "As it is known, the defendant, former Chancellor Sheev Palpatine, has confessed to all of these heinous crimes and had incited a civil war which even now is destroying our Republic from both without and within. The classified intelligence he has relayed to our enemies has led to the deaths of thousands, maybe even millions of innocent people. The prosecution would like to press for the death penalty, in accordance with military law."

"And the defense?"

"You honor, my client has cooperated with every demand placed upon him, no matter how unreasonable, on the promise of a life sentence, the furthest we can go in a civilian court of law. To go back on that, even for crimes such as these, would ruin our credibility for future cases. We have to uphold our end of the deal-"

"Objection your honor!" the prosecution exclaimed, "Any demands placed on the defendant were more than reasonable!"

"Overruled," Padmé responded, "Would you care to exemplify what demands seemed unreasonable to the defense?"

"Well for one thing, were the twelve blocks of landmines and artillery guns pointed at his cell really necessary? This is a frail old man we are talking about here. What harm could he do without his office?"

"Force-users are well known to be destructive if need be, even 'frail old men,'" Padmé replied narrowing her eyes, "As such, when imprisoning Force practitioners the Republic has the right to use any precautions the justice system and Jedi Order deems fit."

And so it went, hours upon hours of evidence, questioning, witnesses, Palpatine repeating every single confession, eyes constantly darting around for an escape route to open up. It was weird, almost as if he expected something. Padmé ignored his expressions in part because his lack of any concern or fear seemed almost inhuman and partly because she was trying to keep calm herself. After four hours of this, prosecution and defense arguing their cases for either death penalty or life imprisonment, it finally came time for the jury to deliberate. This would certainly take a while. In most instances the jury was selected from people who didn't know or know of the defendant, but considering he was the former Chancellor it was safe to say the entire galaxy could easily recognize him. Political views were doubtless going to play a part in their debate, despite their best efforts at screening for politically neutral opinions. All she could do now, was sit there. It could take four minutes, it could take twelve hours, it could take six days, and all Padmé could do now was trust the system and stare down the single most evil man in galactic history, a man she had once respected, a man who had manipulated trillions to his will, a man responsible for so much death, pain, and destruction, to only fulfill his own ambitions. The media was waiting to hear the results just outside the courthouse with protestors all but surrounding the building, throwing rocks and flaming booze bottles. Clones and commandos holding them back without the use of lethal force, but Padmé could still hear the sounds of blasters stunning the protestors.

They had been sitting there for another six hours, Palpatine only smiling occasionally, his cold, twisted smiled. He knew something that she didn't. Beckoning a clone commander to her, she whispered, "Have another platoon of troopers added to the security detail, I have a bad feeling."

"Yes, your Excellency," the clone replied. Turning to exit the room and call for reinforcements.

"Chancellor Skywalker," Palpatine finally hissed, "Hmm… it does seem to roll off the tongue, doesn't it?"

"No one gave you permission to speak, Sheev Palpatine," Padmé chided, "I suggest you hold your tongue, lest you be held for unruly behavior in court as well."

"Even if I am, I doubt it would do me any greater damage." He smiled again, that damned smile. It was a smile that had captivated Senators, swayed entire planets, had overseen a galactic civil war. Padmé decided to ignore him the best she could until the jury came out, then she'd hand out either the execution order or his 16 life sentences in the Maw. She wouldn't even warrant his almost playful banter the dignity of listening. Until, "It seems that it is now time for me to go."

"What?" Padmé finally asked. Then came the explosion. She was hurled from her position, landing on her neck. Hard. She blacked out. "Am I dead?" she thought, she had known something would happen, but she hadn't expected this. She couldn't hear anything except a loud ringing, her vision blackened and cloudy. She could hardly breathe. After what seemed an eternity her vision finally cleared up enough to see around her: half the guards were dead, with most of the survivors injured, even the Jedi. Protestors, no, rioters, in masks had stormed in the hole in the wall and were throwing flaming bottles and beating survivors of the blast. They were beating her, but much to her horror she couldn't feel a thing unless they hit her in the face. She started to fade as she heard blaster bolts. They were not set to stun.

Falling out of hyperspace, Dooku inspected the planet Talamh. It appeared a paradise, with biomes for nearly every species somewhere on its surface. He had to admit that most planets looked quite beautiful form orbit, but Talamh, Talamh was something else. He heard the door swish open and shut behind him, looking back slightly he acknowledged Gràinne's presence. As he was looking back at the planet, she walked up beside him and gazed at it. "I've ne'er seen it from here before."

"Not even when you left?"

"No, I was too afraid o' flying to look out. Still am, but it's gettin' better, it is."

"Hmm. Well, I can tell you this much, most worlds in this galaxy are filled with lecherous scum who will shoot you in the back for a jogan fruit. However, from orbit, they are all jewels. This one, especially." He turned to face her, "Now, where is your home? Which continent?"

She pointed at one comprised of peninsulas branching off of other peninsulas, with two large islands just off the north-western coast. "Europe, I live in the northern part o' the big island. Alba."

Nodding, he typed in the coordinates to fly over this "Alba" to narrow it down further. They did this multiple times, him lowering their altitude while she got him closer and closer to her home. He eventually decided to land just a few kilometers away. They both needed to stretch their legs after almost a week spent cramped into that tiny solar-sailor. If he was going to be doing trips like this more often to train his new apprentice, then he would definitely need to invest in a bigger ship. Lowering the platform to exit the ship, Dooku handed Gràinne a cloak similar to his own, and pulled his tighter around him. It must have just rained, since he felt like he was breathing in cold soup. He looked over at Gràinne, who had hers wrapped tightly around her as well, hood lifted to as to hide her face and montrals. She smiled at him, but he could still sense the Togruta's anxiety flowing off of her. He made a face, and although she hadn't agreed to become his apprentice quite yet decided to give her a lesson anyway, "I know you worry for your family, but worrying will do nothing but distract you when the time comes to do what is necessary. Use your fear productively. Turn that fear into courage and ferocity, to defend what you love."

"I'll… keep that in mind," Gràinne replied, instinctively reaching for her claymore only to remember that she had lost it when she had been kidnapped, or rather, rescued. "Oi, I don' nae have a weapon since yer droids left me claymore. If we get attacked how am I supposed to defend myself?"

"I'm sure you'll figure it out," Dooku replied smoothly, "You managed to fry one of my droids, how different can a common pirate be?"

She nodded, and together they walked out of the ship and into the Scottish landscape, matching footsteps for a while. She pointed to the bridge marking the end of the clan lands and mentioned, "The metal box that fell from the sky and dropped me here is in that gorge, in the river."

"Interesting. An escape pod?"

"I think that's what they called it, tha."

"Tha?" Dooku asked, puzzled.

"Oh, it means 'yes' in Gaelic."

"A fascinating language this Gaelic. I should like to learn it one day."

Gràinne giggled, "Well maybe I could teach ya a few words?"

"That would first require you agreeing to my tutelage, young one. Otherwise our paths may never cross again."

She looked down, almost considering, weighing the options before her. She had to admit, she had grown rather fond of the old man over their journey, he was almost like another grandfather, "Tell ya what, if I can get permission from me Da and Mam tae study yer Force, then I'll do it."

Dooku grinned, "Excellent. I'll be sure to make a good impression."

A band of horsemen rode to surround them, armed with axes and swords.

"Thoir seachad na rudan luachmhor agad agus is dòcha gum marbhadh sinn thu gun phian!"

Dooku was calm, glancing at Gràinne to translate, which she did.

"He says tae hand over our valuables and we might die painlessly."

Dooku simply laughed, "Are these the same bandits as before?"

"Aye, most o' them."

The new bandit leader started laughing, not quite hearing what was being said but recognizing the language, "Oi! What's an Englishman and his daughter doing in our highlands?"

"I suggest you step aside."

The bandit leader drew his sword and dismounted his horse, "Not until you give us what ye have on ye."

Opening his cloak to reveal his hands, Dooku replied, "This is your last chance, you are dealing with a Sith Lord."

"Oi!" the bandit called to his compatriots, "Ye hear that? The Englishman's a lord! He might be worth a pretty bit o' coin if we just hold him hostage!"

Sighing in mild annoyance, Dooku simply raised his hand, "So be it," summoned his lightsaber to his hand, almost instantly killing the bandit leader as it ignited.

"NOT AGAIN!" one of the bandits shouted, recognizing the concept of a lightsaber, as he tried to bolt away but Dooku reached out in the Force and grabbed the man's neck, flinging him, suffocating, from his mount. His neck snapped instantly. The Sith sliced through the brigands casually while Gràinne ducked and weaved between them, kicking, biting, and punching and who got near to her. One robber actually managed to slice her on the arm with his sword, and in fear she lifted her hand and shot out a small storm of Force Lightning, almost instantly killing him. There was only one survivor left, who had been flung from his panicked horse and was trying to run away. Dooku flung his lightsaber at the man's kneecaps so nonchalantly he looked more as if he were skipping stones off a pond. The robber fell, dismembered and screaming in pain as Dooku's lightsaber returned to him. He walked towards the man, beckoning Gràinne to follow which she did.

The man was screaming in both pain and fear and he tried to get away, crawling with his arms away from the witch and warlock. Reigniting his blade, Dooku sliced off his attacker's arms, leaving him a helpless stump of a man. The Sith Lord looked towards Gràinne. "If you would like a practical lesson for your gifts, now is the perfect opportunity," he described, as explaining a simple arithmetic problem to a child. Taking her arm, he lifted it and held her hand into a grasping position and told her, "Now, focus on the man's throat. Remember how he wanted to rob and kill us, likely tried to rob and kill you twice, would likely have raped you both times, how he has done the same to countless other people. Imagine his neck in your hand right now." She stepped closer, "No, from right here. Focus on his throat, imagine it in your hand, feel the windpipe in your fingers."

Gràinne closed her eyes and focused, on the man's throat and on his crimes both past and present. He deserved to die; he deserved to hang. She could almost, just barely, feel the tissues of the robber's neck in her grasp. She heard him choking and opened her eyes. They glowed yellow. Her hand, despite being a few yards away from his throat, was suffocating him. This was what Dooku and Ahsoka called "the Force?" She liked it already. The stump of a man begged for mercy between gasps, eyes widening with fear and lack of oxygen. This would be her first controlled kill using this "Force," the droid and the other bandit being instinctual and fear or hatred-based reactions. This is with total consciousness, squeezing the life out of him. She resisted the urge to smile. She stepped closer to him and told him, "You won't hurt anyone else again." With a loud crack she snapped his neck. He dropped to the ground and she looked over to Dooku. He obliged with an approving smile.

"Come Gràinne, we mustn't make your parents wait any longer than need be." Turning, the pair left the corpses to rot where they lay as they walked down the road as she continued to point out various points of interest from her days growing up.

By the time the sun was setting in the west, they came upon a farmhouse towards the bottom of a hill. Undamaged. Unburned. The sheep was milling about in the fence as a heavily muscled man led them into the barn with a canine barking as he ran around the herd. Gràinne could barely contain her relief, running down the hill at top speed, "Da! Tha mi dhachaigh! Tha mi dhachaigh mu dheireadh!"

"Gràinne?" Argus called, almost not wanting to believe it, "Gràinne! Mo nighean òg! Freya! Thig sùil! Dachaigh na nighean againn!"

Dooku trailed behind, allowing his apprentice-to-be to leap into the arms of her mother and father, tears freely flowing on all sides. He smiled, a calm, kind smile as he noticed Gràinne pointing towards him saying something in Gaelic that he had little idea of what it meant. As he walked closer to the family, the muscled father walked up to him.

"You brought me baby girl home? From a life of slavery?" Argus asked.

"I did." Dooku answered.

Argus replied by taking Dooku in his arms and giving him a crushing hug, even lifting him a few centimeters off the ground, "How can we ever thank ye?"

Choking, Dooku said "Putting me down would be a nice start," to which Argus happily complied, leaving Dooku leaning against his knees coughing and trying to catch his breath."

"We have to let you stay fir dinner!"

"I would be greatly appreciative," Dooku replied, noticing that he was actually quite hungry. Perhaps a few days on this planet would serve him well.

The Kenobi's 212th legion met up with Anakin's 501st, Coruscanti Defense Fleet, and Fisto's clone legion Monnk's Company. Shortly thereafter, Unduli's 41st Elites and the new Kamino's Own legions entered the system. In holocall, the Jedi Generals discussed battle plans.

"Alright so that's six legions." Anakin counted, "Who are the seventh? What's their eta?"

"I believe it is supposed to be the 666th," Luminara answered.

"The Devil's Fist?" Anakin replied, surprised. Blowing air out of his lips in a semi-whistle, "They're sending in the big guns for this one."

"I should hope so, this battle alone may take months, if not years," Kenobi pointed out, "Even with every spare clone battalion we are still at a massive numerical disadvantage and it is only a matter of time before another Separatist fleet comes to kick us from the system.

"Try to kick us from the system," Anakin answered, trying to maintain the illusion of his typical cockiness.

Kit knew better, he had seen the "Hero with No Fear," near-catatonic on the floor after the initial space battle. He wasn't even sure if Anakin was serious or not when he swore to never fly again if he could help it. Trauma did things to people, terrible things. Too often he had heard shell-shocked clones start screaming in the middle of the night, had seen too many Jedi go Dark, seen so many Jedi and clones commit suicide, both on and off the battlefield. Of all the things he had witnessed go wrong in battle, the worst thing he had ever seen was beyond doubt finding a padawan who had hung herself in the communal refresher after her master and almost 80% of her battalion had been wiped out in an ambush. She survived, he had cut the rope just in time, but with severe brain damage from the lack of oxygen for up to two minutes. She was rendered a vegetable and had been in the medical wing for over two years. She would probably have to be placed back in the creche for the rest of her life when, or if, she got out. He tried to ignore the disturbing images, tried to keep from imagining Anakin, Luminara, Obi-Wan, or Ahsoka with a noose around their neck in the Temple showers, dead eyes staring outward, face blue from the lack of oxygen, body cooling after a terrible death by their own hand. Tried to keep from wondering if it would have been more merciful to not cut her rope, sealing her fate as fully dependent on everyone around her for food, water, air, waste disposal, to be relieved of bed sores. Her fate to be an adult with the mental capacity of an infant.

"We should clarify where each of us will be landing," he started, mostly as a way to banish the terrible thoughts with distraction. "Obi-Wan and Luminara will land at these coordinates, to take the major industrial centers. Anakin, you and Ahsoka will lead a bombing run on-"

"I'm, not flying." Anakin interjected, much to the shock of his former master and his padawan.

"Anakin, what do you mean you're not flying?" Obi-Wan asked, wondering if he was hallucinating.

"I, I just think I'd be better used on the ground is all."

Fisto nodded, his solid black eyes sympathetic, "I understand, I'll lead the bombing run with Ahsoka over the Separatist strongholds in the capital. Anakin will lead my troopers and the 501st to the agricultural centers here and here. Master Ti, you will take the Kamino's Own and Devil's Fist legions to first reinforce Kenobi and Unduli's position and then start besieging the capital. When all of our forces converge outside the capital city, we will finally strike at their command centers."

Shaak nodded in agreement, "Understood. The orders will be relayed to the 666th when they arrive. It should be within the hour."

"Excellent," Fisto replied, "May the Force be with us all."

Gràinne and Dooku sat at the table with her family, eating freshly smoked salmon and roasted vegetables with brown bread. Argus had apologized profusely that all they had was simple peasant foods to thank a nobleman for rescuing their daughter. Ironically enough, this was the exact sort of meal Serrano nobility ate regularly, which came as a shock to the McGuffins. Dooku started to wonder just how fantastically wealthy this planet must be for such fine cuisine to be considered a pauper's dinner.

"It's quite fine, truly. And the quality of the cooking is exquisite!" Dooku complimented, genuinely, this Freya woman cooked better than his entire staff back in his palace, "All that is missing is an aged Alderaanian wine to compliment the fish. But even the beer seems, smooth. As if completely natural."

"Well what else would it be?" Freya asked.

Dooku suddenly realized that the planet was too primitive to have invented food processing and filler ingredients, ironically leading to a higher quality of foodstuffs. "An idea for you to entertain, if you will," Dooku inquired, "I would like to hire you as a personal chef in my palace. Sell your farm and I'll take your family to Serrano, people such as Gràinne are quite common around there. You'll never be harassed again."

Freya's eyes widened as she looked to the equally surprised Argus, "I don' nae know me lordship."

"I will pay quite handsomely."

"I mean, our children are all buried here. I don' nae know if we can leave them."

Dooku lowered his eyes. "Yes, Gràinne had shared that information with me. I am deeply sorry for your losses."

"Tank ye. Otherwise, I think I'd like tae accept yer offer."

"Would it be possible to reinter them? Bring your entire family to somewhere more friendly to your daughter."

The parents looked back towards one another, Freya smiling slightly.

"I-If ye want me lordship, I can show ye some of my finest armor and weapons," Argus suggested, "Ye can take yer pick. It's really the least we can do after all."

"An excellent suggestion, I am in no need of steel weaponry or armor at the moment. However, depending on your craftsmanship, perhaps I could hire you as a blacksmith as well."

"Well if ye want elegance, just look at me little girl's claymore! Made it myself."

"Uhm, Da," Gràinne replied shrinking.

"I'm afraid that Gràinne's weapon has been stolen by the Jedi slavers who sought to steal her. I never got the chance to see it, however your daughter assures me that it was without equal, a sword worthy of a king."

"Aye, I made a similar one to be sent to the Roman Emperor, don' nae tell him but," he leaned closer, "'twas only a practice blade. Hers was better in every way."

Dooku raised his wooden cup filled with fine beer, "Nothing less for such an impressive young woman."

"Oi, Gràinne," Freya asked, as if suddenly realizing, "where's Séamus at?"

Gràinne looked down, near tears at the memory, Dooku lowered his face, "Due to a misunderstanding, he was killed in the attempted rescue. I tried to save him as well, but he perished." Gràinne allowed herself to bawl openly as Dooku recounted the tale, leaning on her father's shoulder. "He died a hero, trying to defend your daughter from a perceived threat. It was all a horrible misunderstanding that I wish could have been avoided."

Barriss rolled into the ICU where Séamus was being awoken from his suspended animation, Riyo holding her hand. As Séamus began to twitch he muttered, "Càit a bheil an ifrinn mi?"

The doctor calmly told him, "We don't understand your language. Do you speak Galactic Basic?"

"I speak English if that's what yer askin'."

"Well I can understand this 'English' at least," the doctor replied, "You had quite the nasty wound on you. Thankfully, this Jedi managed to save your life."

Séamus nodded, "Tank ye, I'll be forever grateful."

"Hopefully more than your fiancé," Riyo muttered.

"Oi?"

Barriss clarified, "Gràinne found out… something about me after I healed her."

"Aye?"

"She's my wife," Riyo proclaimed, growing tired of Barriss's hesitation.

"Well, not yet," Barriss corrected.

"Okay."

"That's it? Okay?"

"I'm a sailor," Séamus answered, "I've seen men sleepin' with men. I've slept with a few."

"Wait, what?"

"Aye."

"Before or after you became engaged?"

"Aye."

"Ok, there's, there's a bit of a difference between being gay and just cheating on your betrothed with whoever."

Séamus shrugged, "Months at sea makes anything look good. It's common practice among merchants and sailors to find prostitutes in port or their fellows while at sea. Captain is supposed to whip ye fir it, but usually he does it too."

Barriss folded her hands and looked down, trying to process what she just heard, "Okay, so your justification is 'everybody else is doing it, so it's fine for me to betray my lover's trust.'"

"Aye."

"Okay, you're definitely a slime ball but well at least you're more accepting of gay and lesbian relationships than Gràinne."

The 666th Legion entered the Alderaan system, the battle was set to begin.

"Generals!" Rex called, "Incoming transmission from a Republic base on the planet!"

"Patch it through Rex, it might be survivors requesting reinforcements." Anakin ordered.

Patching the transmission through, a hologram of General Grievous appeared before them all.

"Grievous," Kenobi acknowledged, "I should have known that Dooku would be long gone and leave you to babysit his new conquest."

"General Kenobi, I look forward to your negotiations, Negotiator."

"Taunting before a battle has even started is hardly your modus operandi."

"Oh I do not intend to discuss your surrender; I intend to discuss mine."

Taken aback, the Jedi Generals and Clone Commanders present almost in unison responded, "What?"

"Did you think that you were the only ones deceived? Count Dooku had led me to believe the Jedi had put me in this metal shell, that you had bombed my shuttle. It has come about that he was the one behind it, alongside Sidious."

"Wait, so this whole time you've been wanting revenge for something we didn't even do?" Fisto asked in disbelief.

"Dooku made it seem quite convincing," Grievous replied before hacking.

"What do you want then?" Kenobi inquired.

"I want to make a deal. I am free to leave to live out my days on Kalee-"

"Under no circumstances," Anakin growled.

"And in exchange," Grievous continued, ignoring him, "I will deactivate the droid army, leaving the Confederacy almost totally exposed to any Republic offensives."

"Give us a few moments to deliberate," Shaak replied.

"I await your answer, Jedi." With that, the hologram of Grievous fizzled out.

"It's a trap. Has to be," said Anakin. "Does he really think that we'd believe that the entire droid army could be turned off at the push of a button? Or that he'd have the authority to push that button?"

"I don't know Anakin," Obi-Wan replied, "I didn't sense any deceit in him, for once."

"And if it was a lie," Luminara added, "then surely he'd come up with something a tad more believable."

"I'm inclined to agree with Skywalker that this Could be a trap," Shaak interjected.

"Well then I suppose the only thing to do is spring the trap," Obi-Wan answered cockily, his signature mischievous grin on his face. For some reason Luminara's stomach always seemed to flip whenever he did that grin. She glanced away inconspicuously.

"I'm not willing to just let Grievous go," Kit replied, "After all he did? All of the clones and Jedi he murdered?! How can we even consider this?!"

"Master Fisto, if he is being honest, then think of how many more clones and Jedi would have to die before this war ended." Were she not on a different ship, she would have placed a hand and his shoulder but instead gave him a caring, understanding look, "I know how much pain he caused you when he killed your former padawan. I came closer to that pain than I ever wanted to just a few weeks ago."

"Except when Grievous stabbed Barriss he saved her."

"I hardly think that was intentional," Luminara snapped.

Fisto turned around, "Do what you will, I'll be hoping you take the sane option."

Her hologram turned to face the other Jedi, "Well? Skywalker?"

"As much as I don't want to admit it, I'm in favor of Obi-Wan's position," Anakin replied, "Spring the trap, maybe there's even cheese in it." Ahsoka looked uncertain but decided against voicing so.

Shaak looked at the three remaining Jedi and shrugged, "I'm outvoted anyway."

Nodding, Anakin looked at Rex, "Rex," he sighed, "Reconnect with Grievous."

Dooku was offered a place in the house right next to the fireplace, which he politely accepted. He was rather impressed with the sense of hospitality here. He would definitely have to consider Scotland a holiday destination. Shame about the weather though, as it began to pour outside. The family and the Sith Lord laughed, joked, sang, and shared their tales of their time separate. Argus and Freya were both terrified and awed by the concept of men made of solid metal, disgusted by the debauchery of the Republic, and infuriated by the Jedi kidnapping of children and their use of a slave army to spread their wicked will across all known life. Finally Argus replied, "Well, if we can sell the farm and the sheep, and we go to work fir the honorable Count, then I don't see why ye can't study under him. At least to help protect yerself from those monsters."

Gràinne looked at Dooku and smiled montral to montral, a grin Dooku returned in kind. This was the easiest turn to the Dark Side in probably the entire history of the galaxy. "In that case," Dooku responded, standing, "Gràinne, kneel."

Raising an eyebrow marking, Gràinne did as she was told, raising to a single knee before the Count. He took out his lightsaber, and quite scared Gràinne's parents when he revealed it's crimson blade. Holding it just above each of the young Togruta's shoulders, allowing her to feel the heat of the hell-colored blade. "Henceforth, under my tutelage, you shall be known as Darth… Serpeness." He felt the Dark Side flowing into the room, chilling the air… or maybe that was just a draft, Scotland was apparently chilly this time of year. "The Force is strong in you my young apprentice, a powerful Sith, you will one day become." He looked down at his apprentice, then towards her parents. He smiled at them, her mother seemingly crying tears of joy and her father beaming with pride. Their baby girl had become nobility in their eyes. Looking down at Serpeness, he said one word: "Rise."