The familiar hum of the Jedi Temple reverberated around Anakin as he strode through the hallowed halls. A warmth, deeper than the Force, suffused him. He was back on Coruscant as a Jedi and now a husband. The weight of the last title, a secret held close to his heart, added a thrilling layer to his homecoming. He and Padmé had decided to cut their Naboo honeymoon short due to Sola's unexpected visit. While his initial panic had subsided, Sola's stern warning echoed in his mind, a reminder of the fierce loyalty that surrounded his beloved. He didn't want to disappoint them. He smiled, recalling Sola's eventual acceptance, the respect in her eyes as she acknowledged their bond. He hoped for the rest of Padmé's family to embrace him with similar warmth, though he harbored no illusions about the Jedi's reaction to their union. The only part of his own family that he knew would embrace Padmé would be his mother. It was a truth they had both accepted, a price willingly paid for their love. Obi-Wan, his familiar presence a comforting anchor in the bustling temple, intercepted him before he could dwell further on the future. "How was Naboo?" he inquired, his blue eyes scanning Anakin for any sign of distress.
"Nice," Anakin responded, his voice deliberately flat. He couldn't betray the bliss of those stolen days, the memory of their secret ceremony, the laughter shared with Padmé. Those moments were theirs alone, a treasure to be guarded fiercely.
Obi-Wan, sensing his reservedness, shifted the conversation seamlessly. "Are you excited to be knighted? The Council is ready to see you."
"I can't wait," Anakin admitted, the anticipation bubbling within him. He had forgotten to tell Padmé about his impending knighthood, but now he could save it as a surprise for their reunion that night. He could already envision her delight, and the sparkle of pride in her eyes.
"You got a new droid?" Obi-Wan observed, his gaze falling on Artoo, who beeped a cheerful greeting. Fortunately, Obi-Wan seemed to have forgotten that the astromech droid had once belonged to Padmé.
"Yes. Now that I'll be a Knight, I need an astromech," Anakin replied, following Obi-Wan towards the Council chamber. The air crackled with anticipation as they entered the turbolift, the hushed whispers of other Jedi fading as the doors closed behind them.
The Council chamber was bathed in a soft, ethereal glow, the circular room overlooking the bustling cityscape of Coruscant. The Jedi Masters, their faces etched with a mixture of serenity and concern, sat in a circle, their presence radiating a powerful aura of wisdom and authority. Obi-Wan took his place among them. Anakin stepped forward, his gaze meeting theirs with a mixture of respect and apprehension. Obi-Wan stepped forward, a gentle smile gracing his lips as he unclipped his lightsaber from his belt. The moment had arrived. The culmination of years of training, of trials and tribulations, of unwavering dedication to the Jedi path. Anakin knelt, his heart pounding in his chest, as Obi-Wan ignited his lightsaber, its blue blade humming softly. "By the right of the Council, and by the will of the Force," Obi-Wan's voice resonated with a solemn clarity, "I name you Jedi Knight of the Republic, and protector of the light." With a swift, graceful motion, he brought the lightsaber down, severing Anakin's Padawan braid. It fell to the floor, a tangible symbol of a chapter closed, a new one beginning.
Anakin picked up the braid, tucking it carefully into his pocket. He would gift it to Padmé, a tangible reminder for her of him. As he rose, his gaze fell upon Obi-Wan, who was now seated among the Council members. "Master, you're on the Council now?" Anakin asked, surprise tinged with pride.
"Yes, I was recently promoted to the Council after the death of Master Trebor," Obi-Wan confirmed, his voice laced with a hint of somber reflection.
"Congratulations, Master," Anakin responded, a genuine smile spreading across his face. He hoped to one day join their ranks, to sit among the wisest and most powerful Jedi in the galaxy, perhaps even to become the youngest member in history. His knighthood was a step closer to that dream.
Their conversation was interrupted by Mace Windu, his voice resonating with a steely authority. "The Separatists have invaded Christophsis," he announced, his gaze sweeping across the assembled Jedi. "We need you to rescue the planet, Knight Skywalker, alongside Master Kenobi and the 501st Legion. You leave tonight."
Disappointment, in the form of a sharp pang of regret, stabbed at Anakin. He wouldn't even get two days with Padmé after their wedding. The irony, the cruel twist of fate, wasn't lost on him. The very promotion he had yearned for, the knighthood that symbolized his dedication to the Jedi path, now separated him from the woman he loved. "I'll be ready tonight, Master Windu," Anakin responded, his voice carefully neutral. "But I need to get ready." He couldn't voice his frustration, not to the Jedi Council. But the thought of leaving Padmé so soon after their union, of facing the horrors of war without the solace of her presence, filled him with a chilling dread.
"Go, Anakin," Obi-Wan dismissed him with a nod. "I need to finish a meeting with the Council." As Anakin left the chamber, a plan began to form in his mind. He couldn't afford to waste precious hours on packing. Padmé had assured him that he was always welcome at her apartment, and her handmaidens were masters of discretion. He would spend these stolen hours with her, clinging to her warmth, finding solace in her embrace before duty tore him away once more.
Padmé stepped off the sleek silver transport, the familiar hum of Coruscant traffic a jarring contrast to the tranquil serenity of Varykino. She had wanted to linger on Naboo, to savor those stolen days with Anakin, to explore their secret marriage. But reality, in the form of her sister's unexpected arrival, had forced their return. Still, a bittersweet smile touched her lips. Two and a half days on Varykino, though far too short, had been a lifetime of happiness. They had stolen moments of joy before Geonosis, but now, with their secret vows binding them, each touch, each shared glance, held a depth of meaning that made her heart soar. Anyways on Coruscant, Anakin would be free to visit her apartment, their love finding sanctuary in the heart of the bustling city. Dormé, her ever-faithful handmaiden, greeted her at the apartment door, her eyes sparkling with a mix of concern and curiosity. "Padmé, how was Naboo?" she inquired, her voice laced with a gentle warmth.
"Wonderful," Padmé responded wistfully, the image of Anakin's face, illuminated by the setting sun on Varykino, flashing through her mind. She could almost feel his touch, his warmth enveloping her.
"That great," Dormé remarked, her brow furrowing slightly. "Though I would have thought you would have wanted to get back to Coruscant as soon as possible."
Padmé chuckled softly. At the beginning, she had indeed yearned to return, to immerse herself in the political machinations of the Senate, to fight against the millitary creation act that had threatened the Republic with war. But then Anakin had effortlessly stolen her heart, weaving a tapestry of love and laughter that transformed her priorities, her desires. "At the beginning, I did," she admitted, her voice laced with a bittersweet tenderness. "But Naboo has a way of sneaking into your heart." She couldn't bring herself to reveal the true reason for her lingering affection for Naboo, not yet. But she would tell Dormé soon, she promised herself. Soon, when the fear of discovery had subsided, she would share her secret joy.
Dormé followed Padmé inside, closing the door behind them with a soft click. "A protocol droid came here two days ago to give you a message," she announced, retrieving a communicator from a nearby table. "The message was from Count Dooku."
"Thanks. That's great," Padmé responded, taking the communicator from Dormé's hands. She had been hoping to speak with Dooku, to explore the possibilities he had hinted at on Geonosis, to see if a path to peace might still exist. This was a promising sign, a sign that Dooku was sincere in his desire for dialogue.
"Didn't you say he was trying to kill you?" Dormé inquired, her voice laced with a hint of concern.
Padmé sighed, a flicker of frustration crossing her face. This was the same question everyone kept asking. "Yes, but I think I was wrong. He saved me and Ani on Geonosis from being executed," she explained, her voice laced with conviction.
"And you're sure this isn't a trap?" Dormé pressed, her brow furrowed with worry.
"No, but he isn't trying to kill me," Padmé responded, her patience wearing thin. "And this is a wonderful opportunity for peace. That's all that matters to me."
"You should watch the message he recorded on there," Dormé suggested, pressing a button on the communicator to activate the playback. "I'll go get some stuff from the Senate for you to catch up with after you finish the message."
A holographic image of Dooku materialized in the air, his regal presence filling the room. "Senator Amidala," he began, his voice smooth and measured, "I know our meeting on Geonosis ended... abruptly. However, I was hoping that we could at least maintain an open line of communication." He paused, a subtle smile playing upon his lips. "I understand that you remain steadfast in your loyalty to the Republic, but I believe that, in time, I can demonstrate through my actions that the Separatist cause offers a more promising future for Naboo and for the galaxy as a whole. This communicator provides a secure, heavily encrypted channel directly to me. I hope to hear from you soon." The hologram flickered out as Dooku finished his message. Padmé stared at the communicator in her hand, her mind racing. This wasn't just a message; it was an invitation, a lifeline tossed across the chasm that separated the Republic and the Separatists. It was a chance for dialogue, a glimmer of hope in a galaxy teetering on the brink of chaos. She couldn't wait to speak with Dooku again.
Suddenly, the sound of the apartment door unlocking startled her. Padmé turned, her heart leaping into her throat, as Anakin stepped into the room, a radiant smile illuminating his face. Before she could utter a word, a finger pressed gently against her lips, silencing her. "Notice anything different?" he asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
She scanned him, her gaze lingering on the familiar contours of his face, the warmth in his eyes, the way his presence filled the room with an energy that both excited and calmed her. His cloak was the same, his lightsaber still hung at his side. Then, her eyes widened in realization. His Padawan braid, once a symbol of his apprenticeship, was gone. "Your Padawan braid is gone," she whispered, her voice a mix of awe and delight.
Anakin's smile widened, his pride evident. "I got knighted today," he exclaimed, his voice a hushed whisper meant only for her ears.
"That's wonderful, Ani," she responded, her heart overflowing with joy and pride.
He reached into his pocket, retrieving a small bundle wrapped in a silken cloth. He unwrapped it, revealing a severed braid, the end cauterized by a lightsaber's heat. It was a tangible symbol of his transformation, a piece of his past that he now entrusted to her. She looked into his eyes as he placed the braid into her open palm. Eagerly, she accepted it. Now, she not only had his necklace, a cherished token of their first encounter, but a part of him, a part of his journey, to hold close to her heart. "This is for you," he said, his voice husky with emotion. "For you to remember me."
"Thank you," she added in a whisper, her eyes shining with unshed tears. She leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his lips, a gesture of gratitude and love that spoke volumes. Then, she wrapped her arms around him, drawing him close, savoring the warmth of his embrace, the solid feel of his body against hers.
"Ahem," a cough from the doorway startled them apart. Padmé had completely forgotten about Dormé, lost in the joy of Anakin's arrival and his momentous news. She should have warned Dormé about him, she thought, a wave of guilt washing over her. Dormé would never let her live this down. "What did this Jedi bodyguard do to deserve such a kiss?" Dormé inquired, her eyes twinkling with amusement.
"Uhm," Padmé stammered, her cheeks burning with a mix of embarrassment and delight.
Before she could formulate a response, Anakin jumped in, his grin widening. "Agree to marry her," he declared, his voice filled with a pride that made Padmé's heart skip a beat.
Dormé turned to Anakin, her expression a mix of disbelief and mock disapproval. "And Padmé didn't think it wise to tell me that she had decided to marry a Jedi?" she exclaimed. "Someone who is forbidden from having any romantic relationships?"
"I was going to tell you before you could catch us," Padmé pouted, playfully nudging Anakin's arm. "But Anakin is terrible at keeping this a secret. First Sola, and now you catch us."
"It takes two to form a relationship," Dormé countered, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Here are your things from the Senate, but I see that you'll be preoccupied."
"She won't be," Anakin interjected.
Padmé turned to Anakin, a frown creasing her brow. She would have worked on the Senate bills even with Anakin, but she had thought that he would want to spend all night with her. "Why?"
"That was why I came now. The Council has sent me and Obi-Wan to Christophsis," Anakin explained, his voice laced with regret.
"You're leaving now?" Padmé murmured, her disappointment palpable. She had naively assumed that Anakin would spend most of his time on Coruscant, safe from the turmoil of the war. But he was a Jedi, a warrior bound by duty, and the galaxy was a vast and dangerous place, even for a Jedi. Fear, a cold, constricting serpent, coiled around her heart. She would ask Dooku to keep him safe, she thought desperately. Dooku owed her that much.
"I'm sorry," Anakin whispered, wrapping his arms tightly around her, offering her the comfort of his embrace. She leaned her head against his shoulder, burying her face in his chest, trying to absorb his warmth, his strength, before he was ripped away from her. A chime from Anakin's comlink broke the spell. "Obi-Wan wants me to return to him to get introduced to our troops," Anakin explained, releasing her with a lingering touch.
As he left, Padmé felt as though a part of her had been torn away. The apartment felt strangely empty, even though Anakin had rarely been there, the air thick with a heavy silence that mirrored the ache in her heart. Dormé stood nearby, her presence a comforting anchor amidst the swirling emotions that threatened to consume her. Padmé offered her a weak smile, a feeble attempt to mask the fear that gnawed at her insides. Once she was alone in her office, she retrieved Dooku's communicator. This was it. She had to speak with him, to see if his promises held any weight, to ensure Anakin's safety on the distant battlefields of Christophsis. Her fingers trembled slightly as she activated the communicator. Dooku's holographic image materialized before her, his eyes seemingly gazing directly into hers. "I've been waiting for you," he greeted her, his voice a calm baritone that resonated through the room.
"I just came back from Naboo," Padmé responded, her voice a touch hesitant.
"Have you decided to consider my offer?" Dooku inquired, his gaze unwavering.
"No, I'm not joining the Separatists," Padmé stated firmly, her loyalty to the Republic, though shaken, remained. She would not abandon her ideals, not yet. And certainly not while Anakin was fighting for the Republic. She would not, could not, fight directly against him. "However," she continued, her voice softening slightly, "I still want to have an open dialogue for peace, like I mentioned on Geonosis."
"I have always been open to that, as long as the Republic is willing to allow the Separatists independence," Dooku responded, his tone reasonable but firm. "Unfortunately, the Republic's Senate would not agree to those demands, and even if they did Darth Sidious would stop them."
Dooku was right. She had seen the arrogance, the entrenched self-interest that blinded many within the Senate to the truth of the Separatists' grievances. Now she had to see if Dooku was any different. "The Jedi say Sith are not to be trusted," Padmé pointed out, hoping to gauge Dooku's reaction.
"And they are right," Dooku responded, his voice laced with a hint of sadness as if this was resurfacing a past memory. "A true Sith should never be trusted. The irony, of course, is that the Jedi still place their trust in the Sith controlling the Republic, while rejecting those who seek to expose him."
"But if you're a Sith, how would trusting you be any better?" Padmé countered, her brow furrowed in puzzlement.
"Sith may use a red lightsaber, but having a red lightsaber does not make one a Sith," Dooku responded, his gaze steady, his voice filled with a quiet conviction that resonated with Padmé.
His words struck a chord within her. Was it possible that the Jedi, in their rigid adherence to the Code, had overlooked a crucial truth? Could Dooku still be good, and have a desire for peace. He had said the Separatists offer a more promising future for the galaxy. Before she could delve deeper into this line of questioning, a more pressing concern surfaced. "Anakin is going to Christophsis right now," she said, her voice laced with worry. "I wanted to ask you to keep him safe. Please. He's... important to me."
"I'll make sure he stays alive, Senator," Dooku promised, his voice softer now. "I don't want him to die either."
Relief, a wave of gratitude, washed over her. She knew she was treading a dangerous path, placing her trust in a Sith Lord. But Dooku could help keep Anakin safe, and it wasn't like he could put him in more danger. He would already be on a battlefield. "Thank you," Padmé whispered, her voice thick with emotion.
"Goodbye, Senator," Dooku said, ending the transmission. "I do hope you'll eventually change your mind about the Separatists. It is the only way to achieve lasting peace."
Padmé sat there for a long moment, the communicator in her hand, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts. The war had begun, and the galaxy was on fire. But amidst the chaos, a glimmer of hope remained, a possibility that Dooku, despite his darkness, might be the key to a future she had never dared to dream of, a future where she and Anakin could be together, openly, without fear or consequence.
A wave of satisfaction washed over Count Dooku as he ended the transmission with Senator Amidala. He had been initially disappointed that Anakin Skywalker had not been present for the call, his hopes of a swift alliance momentarily dashed. Had he misjudged the depth of their connection? Perhaps they were mere aquintances, their shared experiences on Geonosis unused due to Anakin's Jedi restraint rather than forming a bond of genuine affection. But then Padmé's plea, her near desperation to ensure Anakin's safety on Christophsis, had rekindled this idea. It was more than a simple request; it was a heartfelt request, a friends's plea for the safety of one of their closest friends. It spoke volumes about the depth of their connection. If he could sway Anakin to his cause, Padmé would likely follow, her love for the young Jedi Knight would help Dooku prove the Separatists superiority over the Republic. Her task was a simple one. Sidious, in his twisted machinations, had already demanded that Skywalker be alive. Dooku had merely to ensure that the order was followed. It pleased him that Padmé, unlike the Jedi, had been willing to see beyond the surface, to delve into the complexities of reality. He had only needed to nudge her doubts, to offer a carefully crafted half-truth about his Sith status. And in a way, it was true. He was trained in the ways of the Sith, but he abhorred the brutal, self-serving darkness that fueled Palpatine. He sought a different path, a path to a better future, a future free from the tyranny of the Sith.
He activated his comlink, connecting directly to Admiral Trench, the tactical genius who orchestrated the Separatist invasion of Christophsis. The Harch's insectoid face, a grotesque mask of cold calculation, materialized on the holographic display. "Count Dooku, what a surprise," Trench hissed, his voice a grating rasp that echoed Dooku's own internal unease
"A Jedi named Anakin Skywalker will arrive soon. I want him captured alive," Dooku commanded, his voice laced with an authority that brooked no argument. "Do not kill him," he emphasized, knowing Trench's penchant for ruthlessness. Unlike Ventress, Trench could not be trusted with the true reason for Skywalker's capture. Explaining the nuances of his plan would be a waste of time and a useless risk.
"What is so important about this Jedi?" Trench inquired, his multifaceted eyes gleaming with curiosity.
"His capture is important to the Separatist goals," Dooku responded vaguely, unwilling to divulge any further information. "Contact me if you receive any further news of him." He severed the connection, a wave of relief washing over him. One piece of the puzzle was in place.
Now, he had to focus on the larger, more daunting task. Building a secret army, a force loyal only to him, capable of challenging Sidious's formidable power. He had already lied to Sidious about the true size of the droid army, concealing a significant portion of his forces, a plan when his alliance with the Sith Lord crumbled. But droids alone were not enough. He needed sentient beings, individuals with the capacity for independent thought, for strategic planning, for unwavering loyalty. He needed to find those who shared his vision, who yearned for a galaxy free from the tyranny of the Sith. His thoughts drifted to the droid shutdown command, a failsafe that Sidious had implanted within every droid, a means of control that Dooku could not tolerate. EK-72, his most trusted protocol droid, had already located Sidious's copy of the command, a heavily guarded device hidden within the depths of Palpatine's office. Disabling it would be a dangerous gamble, a delicate operation that required both precision and subterfuge. A plan began to form in his mind, a daring operation that involved a distraction and a skilled infiltrator. He would need a bounty hunter, someone capable of drawing Sidious's attention, someone whose reputation for chaos would mask the true purpose of the mission. While Ventress could easily infiltrate Palpatine's office, disabling the device without raising Sidious's suspicions would be a challenge. He had to make it look like an accident, a random malfunction rather than a deliberate act of sabotage. Otherwise, Sidious's wrath would be swift and merciless. He had time, he reminded himself. Sidious, for now, was preoccupied with consolidating his power within the Republic, using the war to amass emergency powers that would grant him unprecedented control. Until that happened, the Separatists were relatively safe, a needed thorn in the Republic's side but not a direct threat to the Sith Lord's grand design. He had time to assemble his army, to disable the shutdown command, to prepare for the inevitable confrontation. The galaxy was a chessboard, and he, Count Dooku, was playing a dangerous game, a game where the stakes were the fate of countless worlds. And he was determined to win, no matter the cost.