AN: Because I lack self-control, I must once again write and post another brainchild of mine.
The Differing Paths
Prologue: The Children
Plo Koon did not remember the name of the planet where he found the young padawan that would come to change the fate of the galaxy. He only ever remembered the small village amongst the tall trees, the poorly crafted wooden huts, and the malnourished woman carrying the child that he would take back the temple.
He remembered her face as she held up her son—her hollowed-beyond-hollow cheeks, her sunken, milky and corpse-like eyes, her matted, dust-covered hair, and her wrinkled lips.
This woman is dying. He remembers thinking. No, she is already dead. She just does not realize it yet.
The woman held the child up towards him, face cast downwards as her black hair falls in front of her face.
"Take him." She speaks, her voice barely above a whisper. "Take him, for he will live a far better life with you than with me, Jedi."
The Jedi Master would look back on this moment in the days that would come after and wonder if this woman had some small measure of Force sensitivity to know what he was, or if she had just seen the lightsaber hanging off of his belt and had hoped he would take the boy.
But in that time, Force sensitive or no, Plo Koon knew that the boy would die if he did not do as his mother asked.
So he gathered the much healthier-looking baby into his arms and asked. "What is your name?"
"My name no longer matters." She spoke. "But his name is Exar. For he will be strong."
Plo Koon looked down at the boy's face. The child had a tuft of void-black hair sitting on the top of his head, and his eyes were an amber-gold color.
Exar, for he will be strong. He pondered as he looked back at the mother, who had slumped over dead. A good name for you, little one.
Years later, Plo would think back on this moment, and wonder if all of this was some dark omen of the things to come.
Five years later. Serreno.
Unlike Plo Koon, Yan Dooku clearly remembered the place where his charge had been taken from, and he had trained him personally.
He remembered that day, as clear as crystal glass, when he first returned to Serreno, walking amongst its streets and alleys, and finding the pale-haired child amongst the trash and filth. Even then in his poverty the boy shown like a beacon in the Force. The boy himself was a pale blond with marble-colored eyes, his skin covered in dust and grime, and the fat had yet to leave his face.
Count Dooku knelt before the boy and spoke. "What is your name, child."
The boy glared up at him, not defiant, but questioning. "Ulic."
Ulic. The Count thought. A good name. A strong name.
The Sith Lord stretched out a hand. "Come with me."
And the boy did.
It would be many years before the Count would recall such a time, and when he did, he would ponder the significance of names.
Ten years afterwards. Coruscant. Jedi Temple
Green clashed against blue in a furious display of skill and ferocity, as the figures wielding those blades leapt around the arena that they dueled in with equal ferocity and skill. Rahm Kota—one of the many Jedi who had been available to attend such an event—observed the tournament round from one of the many upper-balconies in the amphitheater. Next to him stood Jedi Master Mace Windu, a man that Kota respected, but didn't necessarily like.
"So…do you plan on taking one?" The Council Member asked.
Kota grunted, his eyes focusing on the wielder of the green blade. "No…Yes. Maybe. Not the boy I think."
Windu cocked an eyebrow. "You'll have to be a bit more specific."
Kota's face scrunched up into something uncomfortable. "The human one. Exar Dorma."
Mace hummed and looked down towards the ring again. The fight was over now, and the young human had been declared the victor over his Iridonian opponent. "Care to explain why?"
Something resonated from within the white-haired Jedi from within the force. It was…confusion. "I'm…not sure. Every time I try to sense the boy's future, I feel almost nothing, save for…darkness."
"So you think he will fall?" Mace asked, an eyebrow raised.
"…Not necessarily." Kota answered. "But I know that in all the visions I have seen, I am never his master."
Mace retained his frown as he stared down at the dark-haired child, who had gathered with his friends after his victory over his opponent. Yes, he could see the shatter points on the boy even now, and he could not help but wonder about the future.
The same time. Serreno. Count Dooku's residence.
Yan Dooku, former Jedi Master and current Lord of the Sith, key figurehead of the Confederacy of Independent Systems kept a calm and steady walk even with the sound of lightsabers clashing echoing throughout the darkened corridor that he walked down.
Ten years had passed since he had taken the boy Ulic Yan-Kasani under his wing, and several others had followed after him. His contemporary and friend, Sora Bulq. Sora's young student, Rhad Tarn. Tol Skorr, a Jedi he had saved on Korriban. Kadrian Sey, another one he had convinced over to his side. Ventress, chief amongst his assassins. And more recently, Quinlan Vos, former Jedi Knight, and now a pawn in a very dangerous game of his.
The Count entered the sparring chambers and watched as Ulic deflected a great many of Rhad's blows.
The boy had changed much since the Count had picked him up in the street. The malnourishment that often came with poverty had vanished, replaced by a leaner and more athletic frame, and his once sunken cheeks had become a bit more swollen. His facial features were no longer gaunt but were now as narrow as the Count's own. His hair had turned from a pale grey to a sunlight-gold color. The Dark has a hold on him, yet his eyes remain a fine marble white.
As Dooku watched, Ulic slipped rapidly between Soresu and Makashi, deftly countering Rhad's own highly aggressive Ataru form, deflecting all of his blows with precision and expertise that only a prodigy could have.
"He is preforming well, especially against someone three years older than him." Sora told him as the two observed the duel. "Do you think he is ready?"
The Count merely turned his attention back to the fight. "We shall see."
And see they did, for even as the Count spoke those words, the duel between the two Dark Side apprentices was ending. The consequences of Rhad's aggressive strategy were starting to show in the form of his ragged breathing and the sweat pooling down his brow. But the older teen was two stubborn to give up.
A swing. A parry. Another swing. A parry, and then a riposte.
Rhad fell to the ground, defeated and with the glowing, red training saber at his throat.
"Yield." Ulic spoke, his voice entirely neutral.
Rhad barred his teeth at the younger man, but ultimately gave in, his gaze turned towards the hard stone floor. "I give."
The reactions of the other apprentices were varied. Quinlan and Tol approving nods while Ventress scoffed. Kadrian simply watched Rhad as he walked out of the arena, his head downcast and face twisted in an expression of resentment.
"Impressive." Sora commented. "You have improved since the last time you have fought in this ring, Ulic."
"Improved?" Ventress echoed, a scowl on her face. "He has not improved! Only grown more…defensive! Weak! We are meant to use our aggressive feelings to strengthen us, to gain power and attain victory!"
"And did he not obtain victory?" Quinlan argued. "Did he not defeat Rhad as was the purpose of this duel."
"He's right." Tol accented. "It doesn't matter how he won, only that he did."
"Enough." Dooku said, eyes only focused on Ulic. "Leave us."
"But—"
"Leave. Us."
They did, with Ventress and Rhad giving the younger student twin scowls as they did so. After they had left, Dooku turned his gaze towards his young charge. "Son."
"Father."
The greetings were devoid of affection, but not of respect. Ulic's own training had seen to that.
"You have done well today, but Ventress is also correct." The older Sith stated. "You have a hatred towards Rhad, but you did not use it. Why?"
"I did, father." Ulic replied. "Mindless aggression would have served me little and would have exhausted me against someone as…tenacious as Rhad Tarn. If I am presented with more…vulnerable targets…then I will do as a Sith should."
The Count nodded with approval. "Then you have learned your lessons well. Use your rage…but only when it serves you."
Silence reigned but only for a moment. "Is there something else that you wish of me, father?"
The corner of Dooku's lip twitched upwards. "Indeed. I do have a task for you…"
AN: New idea I had when at work this week. Do the typical 'OC in the Clone Wars fic' but instead of following just a Jedi, do a Sith/Dark Side Adept as well.
Anyway, next chapter we'll be seeing more of Exar Dorma in the next chapter, along with more familiar characters.
And as always, reviews give me life.
