Serenno, Dooku's Palace, 32 BBY
The Force is weeping.
And with it, the skies pour torrents of rain, battering the palace, a dull thrum through the ancient stone. Flashes of lightning illuminate the dark skies.
For all the water surrounding him, all Dooku can taste is ash and smoke.
Peace is a lie, there is only passion.
But he knew peace once, in the arms of—
Through passion, I gain strength.
He recites the words, reaching again for the Force, that Dark energy humming through the storm. Dooku can sense it—he knows them, the ripples of darkling power ever-present, singing a siren song as they churn with the howling wind.
Clear your mind.
Through strength, I gain power.
Through power, I gain victory.
And that victory means the death of everyone he loves.
"The Force will free me," Dooku whispers into the dimness of the meditation room, bowing his head. It is the only line he can stomach right now. There is no victory. Only a lingering pain in the Force, emanating from the sleeping Jedi Master Sifo-Dyas, soon to be declared dead.
Through victory, my chains are broken.
Sifo-Dyas must die.
He must die at Dooku's own hand, and then it will all be assured—Sidious will bring him into the Plan, and he will weave himself into it. He will twist it into what it should be, into what it needs to be. And once he's achieved that, he will avenge Qui-gon, and he will avenge Sy.
For the greater good.
The Force will free me.
It isn't helping him now. No matter how hard he tries, the Force will not let him turn his pain into the strength he needs, channel it into the Dark. Nor can he release it all with the Jedi methods, and his pride stings to have even tried.
Dooku sighs, sharply, and rises from the meditation mat.
Sifo must die.
He must.
For Dooku to continue his plan, to ensure that it does not all go to waste, he must die.
This is why both Codes forbid attachments. His love—it could destroy everything he's built, every carefully orchestrated piece of the Sith plan. And him.
His steps echo through the empty halls, as he stalks down to the med bay, grip on his lightsaber white-knuckled.
Sifo-Dyas lays inside, cocooned in soft fabric, his face tranquil in the grasp of sleep. Dried blood covers half of his face, a bacta patch slapped over the side of his head. His chest rises and falls slowly, gentle breaths the only sound in the med bay.
Dooku stares at the evidence of his failure, his weakness, his most beloved friend.
His sabre is a cold, steady weight in his hand.
Thunder rumbles through the palace.
Kill Sifo-Dyas, and your place in the plan is assured.
Kill Sifo-Dyas, and he can gain everything he's been promised.
He lifts his sabre hilt.
Sifo-Dyas does not move, sound asleep, as a red blade ignites, as Dooku snarls at the burning in his eyes. Everything I want, or one man.
Coloured beads shine in Sifo's tangled hair, braided with painstaking care.
How many of them had Dooku himself given to Sifo? Probably the majority. It wasn't often that Sifo-Dyas went on missions, plagued by visions as he was. Long ago, he'd cared enough to search for one on every planet he visited.
And braid them in, telling the stories he'd made.
Sy must die.
His blade does not waver. The kyber crystal within hums a malevolent, darkly beautiful battle cry—blood for blood. Once, the same crystal sang when Sifo-Dyas held it.
Once, he loved Sifo-Dyas.
And now.
and now
No matter where Dooku goes, Sifo is always forbidden.
Dangerous, attachment is. The Jedi ban emotion from their lives, the list of 'dangerous' feelings growing year by year. And the Sith, for all their passion and emotion, refuse it, too. Love isn't banned, not truly.
This is attachment, Dooku believes—he wavers between Sy and the future of the galaxy, a knife's edge balance.
He must kill Sifo-Dyas.
Complete his Fall and submerge himself in the Dark Side.
I must kill Sifo-Dyas, he screams into the Force, I must. It is the only way.
The Force does not answer, endless and all-knowing.
endless
He has been blind as any Jedi.
Dooku tucks the blankets over his friend, his companion, his.. love. "M5, activate," he orders, clipping his lightsaber back to his belt. The droid's eyes light up, pale yellow, trilling softly at him. "You will tend to Sifo-Dyas, and you will ensure all of his wounds are treated."
"As you order, Count," M5 replies, dipping their head in a calm motion.
"If he shows any signs of waking, inform me immediately."
The medical droid steps over to begin working, and Dooku watches Sifo's still form for a moment longer.
He turns on his heel and sets off into the night.
Kamino Cloning Facilities, 32 BBY
For once, the skies are clear and blue, the oceans lapping with a rare calm. The Force is alive and joyous, singing of freedom, flight, future. A single, sleek ship dips through the atmosphere, shining in the sunlight.
A line of Kaminoans waits as the ship touches down gently.
The door opens, a hooded figure in elegant dark robes emerging, his stride proud and strong. He has not slept for several days, but they do not know that.
"Lord Tyranus."
"Prime minister." Dooku inclines his head. "I have brought the chip, as was planned. You are prepared to implement it?"
"Of course."
Sidious' plan is clever. Create both a failsafe and the perfect tool to destroy the Jedi. In the meantime, he has an army for his needs, one he knows cannot betray him.
Very, very clever.
But not enough.
Serenno, Dooku's Palace, 32 BBY
Morning sun bathes the balcony in gold, the scent of rain and rich earth filling his nose. Birdsong fills the air, and the Force is alive in the air. It dances, free and alive, twinkling through delicate wooden chimes and the brilliant ryoli blossoms.
"Sifo."
Sifo-Dyas takes a long sip of his tea, the porcelain warm against his aged hands. The breeze is cool, even with the light soaking over his tan skin. He's glad for the layered robes.
Dooku's impatience and nerves are nearly imperceptible in the Force, but Sifo knows his friend well. Standing behind him, shields solid as durasteel. Fear. Pride. Shame.
"I asked for an extra cup," he says, gesturing to the ornate tea set on the table before him. "Don't worry, it's straight black as you like."
A pause.
Dooku steps into view, sitting with marked stiffness. His cape is pristine as always, tunic sleek black and likely more expensive than some starships.
His hands, as always, do not shake as he pours himself a cup.
Sifo closes his eyes, drawing in a breath of the spring air. "I'm dead now?"
A long sigh.
"...The Jedi have declared that you passed away in an accident, yes."
"Ah. And what is the truth?" The Jedi Master opens his eyes, turning to his old friend. Dooku meets his gaze. Good.
"I'm sorry, Sy."
Sifo-Dyas tilts a brow. "Well, that explains everything," he says with a wry smile. His friend does not crack a smile, his lined features hooded.
They look at each other, a moment of peace.
"Are you fixing it?"
That is what matters.
Relief crashes over him when Dooku nods. "I am going to try." His deep voice is quiet, layered with guilt and sorrow, the only hint of the raging depths beneath.
Do or do not, there is no try.
Sifo-Dyas considers the old green troll's words, and a smile rises on his lips. "Well, that is enough for me." Emotion pulses in the Force, raw and aching.
"Sy—I tried to…I tried to kill you."
His voice is shaking.
"I was going to… I was going to…"
Sifo watches with a serene expression—his friend, so perfectly composed, so dignified and proud, yet barely able to choke out the words. The Force stills around them, calm and listening.
"I am still alive."
"Alive doesn't mean well."
"No. But that's what time is for." Sifo-Dyas takes a sip of his tea, savouring the intricate flavour. It's a Nubian import, expensive, made from the leaves of the ryoli tree—several of which are in splendid blossom before him. "And it seems to me that neither of us is particularly well."
Dooku looks away.
"Lovely tea."
You planted a garden for me. Sifo-Dyas holds the thought, the emotions attached. And finds he does not want to let go.
I won't give up on you.
Their bond has been folded away in the corner of Sifo's mind, a sweet remnant of better times, better days. A golden thread.
Dooku turns back to him, shields melting into surprise hope desperation.
"Sy."
Sifo-Dyas offers his hand, and Dooku takes it.
Through the bond, he sees.
—Have you ever heard of the Kaminoans?—
A hooded man, his mouth curved in a sanguine, monstrous grin. —Rise, Darth Tyranus— Sifo-Dyas is dead, not dead, almost dead and he is BREAKING
The Force heaves, and Sifo is snapped out of the vision before it can begin.
Dooku squeezes his hand, and iron shields wrap over Sifo-Dyas protectively.
"The pain is fading," he whispers. "Doo, they're going away." Never completely. But he feels lighter than he has in decades. "We can—we can stop it. We can change it."
Hope rises, delicate as the flowering blooms.
"Promise me." Sifo doesn't know what he's looking for as he breathes the words. But Dooku understands. He always has.
"I promise."
They are together.
And the Force is joyous on Serenno.
Hello, and thank you for reading!
It's been a long time since I last wrote fanfic. I am happy to say I have improved. And a short, finished story! How rare!
Anyways!
This was intended as a one-shot, but I might add more in the future. Most of my Legends knowledge is sourced from fanfic and Wookiepedia, so if there are any hilarious screw-ups... Well, it is an AU, after all.
Yeah! So let me know what you thought, if you feel like it! I'd love to hear it. :)
-houseshaderevir