38 BBY

At first, the City World of Coruscant looked exactly like Athemeene had always imagined it would. An entire planet set aglow with the light of civilization, with great cracks of illumination running across its surface like oceans of molten lava. There were even great golden strings of light draped across the world that stretched far out into the reaches of space. Athemeene gaped when she realized that string of lights was actually a staggering array of ships in all shapes and sizes, ranging from personal vessels to freighters.

Then she noticed the vast quantities of cargo haulers. The massive vessels were dedicated to nothing but maximizing storage space, and were crewed almost entirely by droids with multiple space lanes dedicated entirely to them. The number of these ships that the official Serreno Diplomatic Transport passed by on the way to the planet's surface was beyond Athemeene's ability and interest to count.

"Some call Coruscant the mouth of the galaxy." Dooku said, watching his wife's reaction with some bemusement. "It does nothing but consume and issue demands for more, while loudly expounding on its own greatness."

"Where does all the food come from?" Athemeene had to assume that was what most of the cargo ships were carrying.

"No single place." Dooku replied. "There are several planetoids in this sector, terraformed exclusively for the express purpose of growing food, but even they can only supply a fraction of Coruscant's needs. There are greenhouses on the planet, vast ones, but I dare say the whole galaxy exports to Coruscant in one form or another. Plasma, hypermatter, food, water, durasteel, even sentients." Dooku looked out the window to a cargo hauler they were passing, bearing the registry of Nal Hutta. "The mouth hungers for all, and cares little for the taste."

Athemeene was unsure of what to think of that. It was horrifying in a way. An entire galaxy of sentients bound irrevocably in service to an insatiable, ungrateful, unstoppable ecumenopolis.

As they closed in, the horizon of the world changed from an indistinct blur to visible towers with lines of speeder traffic passing between them. Below them, the planet's surface was a maze of utterly dwarfed buildings, crisscrossing alleys and streets, the occasional opening that revealed a tunnel of glowing lights.

"You would be shocked at how expensive housing is." Dooku frowned in vague disapproval. "Some of these towers are worth more than the GDP of a small planet, particularly those closer to the Senatorial District."

"How can that be?" Athemeene boggled.

"Coruscant is dangerously overpopulated. The cost of even a basic aboveground apartment is beyond what most families can afford. A landlord who owns one of these towers can charge any price he pleases, and receive an income that would make a Hutt blush."

"Then… How does anyone afford to live here?" Athemeene murmured.

"Most don't." Dooku replied. "The Under City has an even larger population than the surface. No census data is available, but most estimate that there are two to three times as many unregistered sentients below the surface as there are above.

Even the area below Coruscant's surface was populated by teaming, uncounted billions. No, Trillions. "How can they be unregistered?"

"Much of the lower levels are controlled by criminal thugs, and populated entirely by illegal immigrants. The deeper you go, the worse it gets. To those at the lowest levels, the idea of a 'sun' is a bizarre myth, as alien and distant as the idea of the Republic and the Jedi. Construction work happens up here, causing tunnels to collapse and move, crushing thousands in what must seem a natural disaster, and severing routes and highways that connected communities for generations, never to reopen."

Dooku turned to regard his wife. "As the Count of Serenno, it is humbling to realize that criminal gangs collect protection funds from populations greater than those of entire planets, including mine. These vast empires rise, and fall, and rise again, with unique languages, religions, cultural signifiers and rich, ancient traditions. All this happens unnoticed, unrecorded, undiscussed by the galaxy at large."

A strange, primitive shiver ran down Athemeene's spine, and she grabbed Dooku's arm instinctively for warmth. "It's too much." She murmured, strangely overwhelmed and horrified. "This world is just… it's too much."

For a moment Dooku hesitated, then he reached over to put an arm around his wife's hip, hugging her close. "You have just described the greatest problem the entire galaxy faces. Even the other ecumenopolises like Nar Shada and Empress Teta are utterly dwarfed by the scale and needs of Coruscant. It truly is, 'too much'."

They were silent after that, until finally the Jedi Temple came into view. For such an ancient and important pillar of the Republic it was actually almost underwhelming to Athemeene. Compared to the vast building that it rested on, or even the galactic senate that sat off in the distance, it looked quite humble. It was carved out of ivory colored stone, in a simple square shape that tapered inwards at the top, and came to a flat surface. At the top of it there were four small towers in a square formation that surrounded one central tower.

Next to it there was a large landing area that was full of all kinds of ships, some diplomatic and some from members of the public who wanted to petition the Jedi for help. As their ship came in closer, Athemeene was able to make out a man in Jedi robes standing at the port, seemingly waiting for them.

When the landing ramp lowered, Athemeene got her first taste of the air on Coruscant. It was thin like the top of a mountain and smelled of old metal and ozone, probably from all the plasma burning in the endless numbers of speeders. It was also as cold as Dooku had warned her, with a chilly breeze that ruffled her hair as she stepped down the landing ramp of their ship. Compared to the warm dry grasslands of Raxus Secondus, or Serenno's humid jungles, Athemeene found it quite bracing.

"Qui-Gon." Dooku greeted as he stepped down the ramp towards his friend.

"Dooku, it's good to see you." The man replied.

From their warm tone as they spoke to each other, Athemeene sort of expected them to hug, or clasp hands, or maybe even kiss cheeks, but instead they just stood at a respectful distance. It seemed oddly cold to Athemeene, but if this was as close as two good friends among the Jedi would get to each other, it would explain things about Dooku's and hers relationship. It wasn't that her husband in particular was the odd one when it came to physical affections, it was just that all the jedi were really awkward.

The two seemed like they were about to launch into a conversation she couldn't follow, so Athemeene took it upon herself to remind her husband that she was there by lightly bumping his elbow with her free hand. Dooku smoothly introduced the two of them like he'd meant to do that all along, when she just knew he hadn't. "Qui-Gon, this is my wife Athemeene, and my daughter Tan'ya."

To Athemeene, Qui-Gon seemed polite as he greeted her, but his real focus seemed to be on her daughter. At only a year and change old, Tan'ya seemed more interested in watching the long lines of exotic speeders flying overhead than Qui-Gon. Like many children, she'd been with blue eyes that darkened over time. Right now her wide brown eyes moved constantly, taking in every sight and sound of Coruscant with obvious fascination. Compared to a city planet how could a mere jedi knight hold her interest?

"It's lovely to meet you." Athemeene said to Qui-Gon, and his eyes turned to her. "Dooku talks about you often." Dooku's eyebrow shot up at that, probably because it was an outright lie. He rarely if ever talked about his time in the Order, but that didn't matter. The point was making a good first impression. "I find it hard to imagine my husband ever being a dashing young knight."

Qui-Gon smiled at that. "That was even before my time. Dooku was the one who trained me to be a Jedi Knight."

"Oh, wow." Athemeene smiled with interest. "Was he a good Jedi in his time?"

A sad look crossed Qui-Gon's face, and he said in a quiet voice, "Your husband is the finest Jedi I know." There was some kind of unresolved tension there.

"...I thought he left the order?" Athemeene feigned some bubbly ignorance just to keep the conversation going.

Qui-Gon blinked at that, shaken out of his reminiscence. "Yes, but there's more to being a jedi than the Order and the Council." He gave Dooku a look. "Isn't that right, teacher?"

"A topic for another time." Dooku demurred. "It wouldn't be wise to say ill of the council when I'll be speaking to them soon."

"Yes." Qui-Gon hesitated. "That's actually what I needed to discuss with you. The prophecy, about Tan'ya. It's very important that-"

"My friend, there will be plenty of time to discuss that later." Dooku cut across him firmly. "Right now I'd like to get my wife and daughter settled into a guest room."

Qui-Gon blinked. "You're not going to see the Council right away?"

Dooku shook his head and smiled. "No, old friend. We came here straight from Serenno. It was a long journey, and quite taxing to us. It would be foolish to address the Council at anything less than our best."

Qui-Gon looked surprised. "Dooku, they've been waiting for you since you arrived in system."

"A simple mistake. None on the council are parents, they don't understand the needs of a newborn."

"You're deliberately missing the point." Qui-Gon insisted, and to Athemeene's ear there was a hint of frustration in his voice.

"My old friend, in politics I have learn one very important thing." Dooku looked at his old friend and said in a low tone to avoid being overheard. "Any vote is decided before it's cast. I would not wish to come before the council, only to learn that they have voted against me too late to change it."

"You mean to manipulate the council." Qui-Gon sounded disapproving.

"I mean to keep my daughter." Dooku countered. "Qui-Gon, you should consider observing me and what I do now. Perhaps your old master still has something to teach you."

The Jedi Temple had a number of fairly modest guest rooms for visitors to stay in, but they really weren't known for their luxury. Being an order of monks, anything too lavish was seen as obscene, and so the guest rooms were humble, with minimal decoration and unpainted duracrete walls. Even the guest room set aside for major diplomats was much the same, but with a few extra rooms for servants and a small reception room for receiving guests.

Being the Count of Serenno, and an old friend at that, the Council had given Dooku and his family the diplomat's room. In contrast to the plain white and gray walls, or the unadorned dark furniture, Athemeene had brought a number of colorful toys and bright picture books. Her daughter was currently dressed in a fluffy pink jumpsuit, and resting in her mother's lap, looking quite out of place in the austere environment.

At nearly a year old she was getting to be a big baby, and if left alone would begin trying to stand up. Her balance was wobbly, and a few times she'd fallen on her backside, but Athemeene knew it was only a matter of time until her child mastered locomotion. Even seeing her child learn to do something that basic made Athemeene feel incredible pride as a mother.

Dooku was seated across from the two of them, brooding. Athemeene had noticed he had a bad habit of doing that. He plotted quietly, without sharing his plans or concerns, which sometimes was unhelpful. Like right now.

"Okay, so there are twelve seats on the council." Athemeene said aloud, getting his attention. "So we need seven votes, and we only have until the next council meeting to get them."

"And one of them must be Yoda." Dooku agreed. "The rest of the council will rarely go against him."

"Alright, so who first?" Athemeene held Tan'ya in her lap, bouncing her up and down. The small child wiggled and giggled, not noticing what was going on in the room around her.

"Yaddle." Dooku answered firmly. "She's an old friend, and likely to drop some hints about the rest of the council. Her opinion of the Jedi and the Republic were never so different from my own, she'll hardly need to be persuaded if at all."

"Maybe we should invite her out for dinner?" Athemeene suggested. "I'd like to get to know some of your old friends."

"I'm sure she'd enjoy that."

"It's been wonderful meeting you." Yaddle said, putting her jedi robes on. "Really, Athemeene it was a lovely breakfast."

Athemeene wasn't exactly a chef, but anyone could follow a recipe, and she did occasionally like to make something nice for herself or Dooku when they were at home. Besides, two old friends catching up over a home cooked meal was just about the easiest audience to please. The diminutive green jedi was only too happy to speak to Dooku again, having not seen him in a number of years.

"Really, I would have loved to come to the wedding, but the Council is busier than ever these days." Yaddle said.

"Of that, I have no doubt." Dooku stood to walk his old friend out. "How often have you had to make the trip to the Outer Rim in the last year alone?"

"More than I can count." Yaddle sighed. "So many problems in such a vast region, and we're always so far away. Sometimes I think we should move the Temple. Save us having to rush back and forth every time."

"The Council will never accept that."

"Yes, never." Yaddle agreed, sadly. Then she perked up, her long green ears rising as she looked at Dooku. "But, with you out there personally, I'm hoping you can begin to make a difference."

"That is my hope." Dooku smiled. "So you'll vote in my favor?"

"Yes, I will." Yaddle agreed. "The tradition of not allowing Jedi to have children is… maybe it was necessary at the time, but now? It is causing problems." Yaddle laughed. "Of which you are only one."

Dooku chuckled with her. "And the others? How does the rest of the council feel?"

"Oh Dooku, you know if you were anyone else there would be no chance of an exception." Yaddle paused. "But I think Yarael and Plo are ready to vote with me in favor of you. I'll have a word with them to confirm, but… Mace Windu has spoken about this, and seems firmly opposed, and Ki Adi and Eeth seem to agree with him. Yoda has been silent, along with the rest."

Once she'd left, Athemeene breathed out. "Three down, four to go… Who's next?"

"I understand your position, Dooku, I do, but think about what making this exception now would do?" Adi Gallia said.

"An exception?" Dooku scoffed. "Hardly. I will train Tan'ya as a jedi, and the Council will supervise."

"Dooku, if Tan'ya wasn't your daughter I'd be inclined to agree, but the risk of you or her forming attachments is simply too great."

"Adi, I need an heir or my holdings on Serenno are vulnerable. You know how things are done in the Outer Rim, with all the Barons and Counts. Blood is important, and without my own everything will come apart."

"Yes, well you still have a wife, Dooku. I'm sure you can just make another child."

Perhaps for the first time in his life, Dooku understood the feelings of a parent who lost their child to the temple. Adi was known for being blunt and caustic sometimes, but that she talked about his daughter like she was disposable tested his self control for a moment.

Dooku pushed down his anger and tried a different angle. "A new Temple in the Outer Rim will be just what the galaxy needs, and my daughter being so powerfully gifted proves that this is the will of the force."

Adi paused. "Now it sounds like Qui-Gon is influencing you."

"To an extent, perhaps." Dooku conceded. "Adi, you've always paid attention to the galaxy at large, and you know we need this."

For a moment Adi didn't say anything.

Dooku pressed his advantage. "There have already been too many mistakes we could have avoided. Galidran happened because we were too far away from events to understand what was happening, and the need to move fast meant we walked into a pointless disaster. That's not even getting into what fools like Dagonet or Larik managed."

"Yes." Adi sighed, nodding with agreement. "All examples of senatorial misconduct."

"Exactly." Dooku pressed. "There needs to be a temple in the Outer Rim that understands what's actually happening out there, and it can't be beholden to the Senate or they'll ruin everything. As the Count of Serenno, I can build a temple and fund it myself."

"Some would say that just means you won't have oversight." Adi pointed out.

"It will." Dooku countered. "From you and the rest of the Order."

"But I don't understand why any of that means why you need to keep your daughter."

"Because this is the Will of the Force." Dooku said, firmly. He waited, letting the silence speak for him.

Adi looked conflicted, but Dooku held his tongue. He'd said his piece, and he knew he couldn't seem too desperate, or it would convince her that he was already dangerously attached.

"...You're right, Dooku." Adi finally answered. "I don't know if this is the will of the force or not, but something has to change."

"So I have your vote?"

"You do, Dooku." Adi breathed out, seeming relieved to have finally made a decision. "Whatever else comes, I know that you of all people can be trusted."

That made four.

At a suggestion from her husband, Athemeene took Tan'ya to the temple courtyard to see the only tree most Jedi would ever know. Even the Room of a Thousand Fountains only contained some bushes at the largest, so the single tree in the rooftop courtyard was spiritually significant to the Order. Athemeene could even understand why, with most of the Order being raised on Coruscant from an infant age.

To her the tree seemed, well… small. It was growing in a fairly shallow soil bed, in a high atmosphere with only weak sunlight most of the day, so that was probably to be expected. Compared to the grand forests of Raxus or Serenno it seemed quaint.

Shaking her head in bemusement, Athemeene murmured, "What strange, secluded people these Jedi are."

"So it is, do you think?"

Athemeene jolted, spinning around to find that she wasn't alone. Standing there right behind her was the tiny, green form of the Grand Master of the Jedi Order.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"Alright, it is." Yoda chuckled, his high pitched tone turning his laugh up. "For one outside the Order, strange we must be."

"I really meant no offense, it's just… well, you're right. To me the Jedi seem so very strange."

Yoda waddled closer, his cane tapping on the ground with each step. How Athemeene hadn't heard that sound before she didn't know, but somehow the little old man had crept up on her. "If you will, a question I have."

This wasn't part of the plan. If she said anything wrong here Yoda might vote against letting her keep her daughter. Dooku was supposed to be the one whipping up votes; right now he was off speaking to Plo Koon. The Grand Master of the Order wasn't supposed to seek Athemeene out on his own.

Athemeene turned, putting her body between her daughter and the old man, breaking eye contact as she did. "What did you want to ask?"

The small green man paused, before saying, "Sorry, I am. Wish to frighten you, I did not."

"That's okay." Athemeene said quickly. "I was just startled. Ask your question."

Yoda looked at her sadly, before quietly asking, "Treat you well, Dooku has?"

"That's… private." Athemeene answered, voice small.

Yoda considered for a moment, before saying in a soft voice. "Sorry, I am. Mean to pry, I do not. But Dooku, my padawan, once was."

After a moment's pause, Athemeene glanced over. If she hadn't seen anything other than a small, frail seeming old man, looking concerned for someone he cared about, she wouldn't have answered. The expression on Yoda's face tugged at her. She knew the smart thing to do would be to say nothing, but she couldn't help but give him something.

"Our relationship has… changed. When we were first married he was always busy, and I was scared to speak to him, but now… Well, he's still busy, but I'm a part of that now. He smiles from time to time, and we're comfortable together. He speaks to me now, and not just about our business, or Tan'ya, but his thoughts and feelings. I'm not scared of him anymore, and I'm not alone, we're actually together. I think… that I've helped him. Recover, maybe."

"Recover?" Yoda asked.

Athemeene chewed her lip for a moment, not sure how to answer the old man. "I think you broke him."

Yoda away at that, his face clouding over.

They waited in silence, for a few moments longer.

"Sorry to disturb you, I am." Yoda turned and left, his cane tapping as he went.

Five and six, Dooku thought to himself. With Plo Koon and Sifa having agreed to vote his way, Dooku only needed to find time to speak with Yoda. He left the training room he'd left them in, and made his way to the central elevator. He was musing about the best way to speak to his former master, when his thoughts were interrupted.

"Master Dooku, may I have a word?"

The Count turned to face the speaker, surprised to hear his voice, but then as opportunity presented itself he smiled. "Of course, my old friend. I always have time to speak with you."

Sitting together with the Council, Yoda was distracted. Around him the other Jedi Masters spoke their reasons for voting for and against Dooku's proposal, but Yoda didn't hear any of the words they said. Usually Yoda remained quiet in their meetings, allowing the others to say their piece and only speaking his own thoughts at the end. He found that if he offered his opinion first, other council members would feel unable to contradict it. So today, none of them noticed that the Grandmaster was somewhere else entirely.

The Order had broken Dooku. That was what his young bride had claimed. That couldn't be true.

Like all Jedi, the Count knew how to conceal his feelings from other force users. It was fully possible that Dooku had been hiding the depths of his emotions from the rest of the Order, but surely Yoda, who had practically raised the boy, would have noticed such a change in his padawan? Dooku was frustrated with the Republic, everyone knew that, and he even clashed with the Council often near the end of his time in the Order, but he couldn't really have been consumed with despair, could he?

Athemeene had barely known her husband for a year, and yet she was convinced that the Order had left Dooku adrift with his faith shattered. She didn't know enough of the force to shield her mind, and so Yoda could glean much from her emotions and intentions that she hadn't meant to share.

Heartbroken. She believed that Dooku was utterly heartbroken when they first married.

After Galidran Dooku had been furious, Yoda remembered that. There had been other missions as well, leading up to him quitting the Order. Bad missions that every Jedi in the Temple must have heard about.

But that was the thing. Sometimes missions went badly. Any time a Jedi stepped out the front door of the Temple they entered a dangerous galaxy, full of treachery and danger. Any mission was a roll of the dice, a chance that they might never return home. Every Jedi understood that. What could even be done about it?

But Dooku had always been proud. Maybe he really believed he could fix the entire Galaxy?

Sighing to himself, Yoda became sure that was what it was. His apprentice had always been talented, and with that talent came pride. A belief that he could succeed where others had failed.

In the end, that was all it was. Pride.

A few bad missions had shaken him, and he Dooku had convinced himself that someone else was to blame, be it the Council or the Republic itself. It was too late to change now, but really Yoda should have tried to do something about it when the boy was younger and still more pliable.

Really, it was Yoda's fault for not-

"Your thoughts, Grandmaster?" Ki-Adi-Mundi asked.

Yoda blinked, remembering where he was. The Council meeting, debating what to do with Dooku's child. Even without having kept up with the debate, Yoda knew how he would vote. Whatever the boy's pride might sting for it, he wouldn't be granted a special exemption. This was a simple matter of doctrine.

"Ready to vote, the council is." Yoda declared. "Trust your decision, I will."

Around the room, each master declared their position. By the time the vote reached the end of the room, it was six for and four against. That just left the Grand Master of the Order and the Master of the Order to make it a tie.

Then Mace Windu spoke up. "I abstain from voting."

Shock ran through Yoda, and he looked at his friend with surprise. He wasn't the only one that did.

"Sure of this, you are?"

Windu nodded. "I spoke to Dooku earlier today, and found many of his arguments persuasive. More than that, I know we can trust him. Dooku and I have clashed in the past because of how… unorthodox he can be, but often he's been right when I was wrong. A Way-Temple in the Outer Rim may just be necessary for the Order as a whole. On the matter of his daughter…" Windu paused shortly as if collecting his thoughts, "I don't approve of a Jedi becoming a father, or training their own child in the Jedi arts, but Dooku has agreed to allow Tan'ya to be padawan to another Jedi when she comes of age. I think that as long as we supervise her training as a youngling, the girl will be no more attached to her father than any learner is to you, Grand Master."

Mace Windu finished by simply saying, "I'm satisfied with this compromise."

There was a murmur of general agreement among the council who were in the affirmative, and even those who voted in the negative seemed to find this agreement more satisfying.

With Mace's abstaining, that meant that even if Yoda voted against it the issue would still be five to six. The decision was made, unless the Grandmaster decided to oppose the rest of the Council.

Yoda was almost ready to do so, but then he hesitated.

Broken, Athemeene had said.

"...I too will abstain." Yoda spoke at last. "I do not approve, but will trust the decision of the Council."

Hours later, in a dark alley far below the surface of Coruscant, another meeting was taking place. In a dimly lit alleyway, the only visible light coming from a faded, filth covered bulb at the back of an abandoned mechanic's shop. A meeting place like this was far below the dignity of a Count, but that was what happened when it was arranged on such short notice.

Standing opposite to Dooku was a man in a black robe that almost seemed to draw the shadows to it. His hood was pulled up to conceal his features, his unseen eyes burning into the Count. Usually when Dooku spoke to this figure there was a slither of fear inside him that he had to control. This time he also had a strange sense of guilt that had never been there before. This was a secret he couldn't tell anyone, not even Athemeene. Especially not Athemeene.

"This changes nothing." Dooku assured him. "Our plan will go forward. Sifa Diyas has commissioned the army, and the Clone Wars will come at the time of our choosing."

"Goooood."