"Is Tan'ya going with you?" Athemeene asked, clutching his armoured wrist in obvious worry.
"No." Dooku answered. "She will remain here with you."
That didn't seem to assuage her worries very much.
...
"You don't need to fear for me, Meene. I have every reason to be confident of my victory."
"She has her own set of armour." Athemeene said in a low, worried voice. "And she fought up there when those pirates attacked! She's still a child, you can't send her into battle again."
Dooku took off his helmet, sharing a pained smile with his wife. "I understand your fears, Meene. I share them. But you have to understand, our daughter has a great destiny ahead of her."
In the Force, Athameene's mind swelled with bitter sorrow. "Destiny…" she sighed mournfully, then gave him a pleading look. "Dooku, please, walk with me."
"...Of course," Dooku agreed, the thought of his many remaining duties barely crossing his mind before he did so. He followed his wife across the palace grounds, barely noting a hedge the groundskeeper trimmed into the likeness of a dragon, his mind focused on the swirling vortex of anxiety and fear obscuring the rest of Athameene's Force presence.
She abruptly stopped, and Dooku watched as she took a deep breath, gathering the courage to voice whatever was plaguing her. "I've been reading some of Sifo's old Jedi texts recently," she started, voice quiet, "searching for wisdom from accounts of those close to great men like Lord Farfalla and Lord Hoth. About how to deal with the insurmountable odds the universe keeps stacking against their loved ones. How to lessen their burdens. I even talked to Sturn about his dead wife, how he deals with knowing that the same fate may one day await his Jedi son or his youngling grandchildren. Dooku, do you know what was the answer I got?"
"No," he replied simply.
"To trust in the Force!" she burst out, her voice full of bitter, powerless rage. "The same one that dictated Sifo that damned prophecy! The same cursed thing that delivered you to the clutches of the Sith, and shaped our daughter into a weapon since her birth!"
"No, Meene," Dooku shook his head. "My failures are my own. It was only by turning my back against the Force that made me sink so low." Some part of him still felt like it was sinking.
"That might be true, but Dooku, Tan'ya is eight years old! At her age, I played with dolls! I didn't know yet what death truly is! Meanwhile, she commands thousands of soldiers, and she has fought, and killed, men who'd give her a fate worse than death should she lose!"
Dooku stared at his wife, unmoving, watching as tears streaked across her face. What could he even tell her? That Tan'ya thrived in such things, that she'd find the palace life of a noble child, free of responsibility, stifling if not humiliating? Athemeene knew it. That knowledge was the very source of her sorrow.
"I loathe it, Dooku," she sobbed out. "And I loathe myself for accepting it. Because I know she's the only one strong enough to shoulder that damned prophecy. I talked about how… different she is with her, and couldn't forget the look of sorrow as she told me how she's nothing like her siblings, that they can't do what she does. And I know that, if not her, the Force will just use another of our children to fulfill the prophecy and write the fate of the Galaxy that will chew them up and spit them out if given the chance."
Dooku sent the feeling of calm as he embraced Athameene, sensing but the barest pressure as he did so through the cold durasteel of his armor. "Fate is not immutable," he stated, meeting her eyes. "Nor is our role in it. Hundreds of prophecies rot in the vaults of Coruscant temple, never to be fulfilled."
"...Maybe we could ask her to step down from the Advisory then? Anything to keep her from fighting any more battles." His wife said, voice tinged with hope. "Not to mention, her duties keep her working almost every day, from dawn to dusk, either holed up in her office or flying all across the planet overseeing something or other. Her siblings know and spend more time with Vai, the Mandalorian girl, than they do with her! Being relieved of duties would give her an opportunity to change that."
"I considered it," Dooku replied, "after I learned just how involved she was in the battle over Serenno from Gon. But in the end, I decided against it."
"Why?"
"It would only breed resentment. We both know she loves what she does, and she'd view taking away her responsibilities as a punishment. Not to mention, it could end up doing more harm than good; oftentimes, the surest way to meet one's destiny is by trying to avoid it. It is better for her to not hinder the course of fate, and let her face it prepared."
"So, should I just trust in the Force?!"
"The Force has given Tan'ya extraordinary insight for a reason, Meene." Dooku said, placing a calming hand on his wife's shoulder. "But I do not ask for you to have trust in It; instead, trust in your daughter."
Athemeene could only hang her head, and Dooku could only hold her.
...
A mechanical hand clutched a holocom, barely visible in the unlit room. Only the light of the distant stars in the window offered any illumination, until a button was pressed, and a number was called.
There were a few moments as the device dialled, before finally someone answered. Yet the holocom remained silent, its display showing nothing - whoever answered refused to step into the display, or as much as say a word.
"Will you do it?" Maul demanded, his voice almost breaking as the nervousness crept in. "Have you scouted them out?"
"Jedi Temple's airtight. Hard getting in. Harder getting out." The voice considered, chewing on something. "And you want a Youngling? Don't think a Bounty Hunter's the kind of professional you need."
"No!" Maul hissed, and the exhalation made him wince as he strained his windpipe. Fighting a cough, he sucked down water to calm his burning throat, before insisting. "I need it. I need it now! I'm so close, the timing is crucial! I witnessed you work, you're more than capable of it, Bane! You're the only one."
Unimpressed, the Bounty Hunter leaned into the call, his large eyes gleaming dangerously even from the other side of the Galaxy. "No names, or we're done. Don't know if someone could be listening."
Maul felt his pulse rising, but he forced it down, swallowing his anger. "Can you do it or not?!" He growled, demanding. "I need to know, now!"
Bane didn't answer right away, chewing on his toothpick as he thought things through. "I'll take the risk." He finally decided. "Gonna need an advance, though. Specialty equipment ain't cheap."
"You can do it?!" Maul rasped out, excited. "You can do it tonight?!"
"I'll get you the boy."
"No!" Maul hissed out before managing to compose himself. "No, don't bring him to me. Take him somewhere else, it doesn't matter where." His fingers danced across the keypad, and there was a ping as Bane received the coordinates. "You understand? Get the boy from the Temple, I'll wire you the money now."
"You better." Bane warned, leaning back out of the projection again. "Ain't moving from this spot till it gets here."
"It's on its way now." Maul snarled, then hung up. Once it was done, he looked out the window, eyes narrowing on a small star in the distance. "Just you wait, Jedi. I know you told the old man I was coming, and I will have my revenge."
...
Apparently, chapters write themselves faster when Power Stones are involved. Who knew? Feel free to test the theory go ahead, toss a few my way.
...
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