Chapter Text
For two months, she has been here alone. Each morning, Dooku joins her for breakfast. They eat in silence. No servants are allowed to speak to her. He leaves after they have finished their tea, but not before asking the same question each day. Does the Dark seem reasonable yet? Obeena has withstood far more tempting calls from the Dark than her old Grandmaster. In a warm building, with enough to eat and clean water, she could survive here for decades. She remains perfectly polite and cordial, of course; and always refers to him as 'Count Dooku' or 'Your Grace'. He started with ‘General’, but has long since changed to “Grandpadawan”. Eventually, he makes her an offer. She has seen the reports. He’s provided her with at least basic news.
In the two months he's held her on Sereno, the war has mostly ground to a halt. The GAR simply cannot function without her. She'd been reviewing battle plans for anyone who sent them to her (Over three-quarters of the GAR, but she will take that work if it means less deaths.) constantly checking supply lists and medical leave forms, shuffling Vod'e to protect them, working with Padme and Brena & Bail on the Clone's Rights bills, tracking progress of every damn battalion and company, and managing her duties as a member of the High Council. Honestly, before she came here, she doesn't recall her last chance at more than a two hour power nap. Helix might even call her current five hours a night ‘reasonable’.
Similarly, Darth Tyranus was heading the CIS, but hasn't been able to do much while keeping an eye on her. He wasn't doing nearly as much as her, but he was busy. Without them, the war has slowed to a stand still, and Dooku wants to wrap things up. He offers her a deal. A way to end this cursed war. To free her people - their people - from the vice of the Senate. He wishes to show the galaxy at large the truth of the Jedi Order, how they had become, at best, indentured servants of the Senate, though far more akin to attack dogs or slaves. He had loved the Jedi and the Temple, they were his family. But watching the Senate treat them so callously had driven him away, and he believes that Obeena, with her desperate love of the Order and Temple, is his best option.
(He remembers the way she adored the Temple, even as a Crecheling traumatized from her Finding. She had always wandered the halls with such warmth inside of her, a little beacon of joy. He does not mention his own interest in apprenticing her. Such a thing is irrelevant in the here and now.)
“The Sith Memory Pod,” Count Dooku explains, neatly cutting his fruit. “Is painful, near torturous. Every memory displayed, every weakness and emotion put out for the Galaxy to see. You would also experience what amounts to Phantom sensations of what the memory displays, both physical and mental. It will be an awful experience.” There’s a type of anticipation in the Force. His golden eyes nearly glow in the light through the windows.
“I would expect nothing less.” Sith artifacts do tend to be violent.
“Still, I will make this offer simple. Enter the pod, and let your life be shown to the Galaxy at large. In exchange, I will stop all attacks by the CIS and return to peaceful negotiations, and even bring the CIS council the idea of offering citizenship to the clones.” Her heart stammers in her chest. It shows in the Force, her shields useless against the cuffs on her wrists and ankles. His smug smile shows that he knows he has her. “I will give you a fiveday to decide, grandpadawan. I shall see you tomorrow.” Taking the last bite of his food, he politely dabs at his mouth with the fine cloth napkin, nods to her, and leaves the suite of rooms she had memorized in the last two months here. Watching the sunrise over the distant lake, she sips her tea. It’s her favorite blend.
The next morning at breakfast, she finishes her meal, drinks the last of her tea, wipes her mouth, and looks him in the eye.
"I've decided, Grandmaster." It's the first time she's called him that. "I'm willing to accept this deal, but with a single caveat. Before I will enter the pod, you must secure an agreement from the Republic Senate and the High Council that no one will be prosecuted or punished for anything shown. Is this an acceptable compromise?
His smile is almost proud. If it is of her words, or his own victory, she does not care to know.
"Of course, Grandpadawan. I'll prepare the messages at once and have you look them over before I send them. More tea?" It's her favorite blend again. She accepts the offer, and the messages are sent before dinner.
Two weeks later, and all is set.
The Senate has agreed, shockingly. Perhaps they believed her to be a loyal dog indeed. The High Council has agreed. It is a relief that they acquiesced. She would not want Anakin to be unduly punished. The GAR admiralty all agreed as well. The Natborns all hold some grudge against her, but she knows the Vod’e and her fellow Jedi will see the practicality of this. He informs her on Primeday that he is nearly ready. He asks if she is afraid. She comments on the quality of the strawberries.
The broadcast starts the next day, the footage starting with her standing next to the pod. Dooku is standing with her, offering her a hand as she steps in.
"Are you ready, Grandpadawan?" He asks, unlocking the cuffs and collar, helping her keep her balance when the Force slams back into her.
"I'll be just fine, Grandmaster." Climbing into the pod, she takes a deep breath and lays back. "Best not to keep the Galaxy waiting, hm?" Dooku closes the pod around her. It seals shut with a faint '
hisssssssssssssss
', and the screen changes. The memories all play a bit out of order, jumbled and mixed up as the artifact rifles through her mind. It’s too much, at first. A thousand scenes, a million sounds and sights, blurring and blending.
“Slowly, Obeena-Wan. Focus, and let the currents guide you.” A male voice unfamiliar to most of the galaxy reminds, gentle and steady, and the broadcasted images slow, before focusing in.
It’s a little Obeena-Wan, round eyes and rounder cheeks, sitting quietly in a large, colorful nursery-like room. The broadcast seems to have conveyed Force-impressions as colorful auras, because each of the other younglings has their own, and the memory itself has a gently blue tint.
The tiny Obeena-Wan is sitting with her Creche clanmates, listening to a young human Master recite an old Jedi fable for them, when another Master gently prods her in the Force, guiding her over to them. A few of her Clanmates look at her when she stands up, but the Master at the front of the room guides their focus back onto them as she walks over. The Master who pulled her aside is a tall humanoid with vivid green hair tied into braids, who easily takes her hand and guides her down the hall to a kitchenette with many child locks on the cabinets. The Master settles her on the counter for a moment, reaching up into one of the upper cabinets.
“
Jaieh
Rokoor? Whassa matter?” The Master chuckles a bit, smiling at her as xey pull a tin of tea leaves out of the cabinet.
“Nothing is wrong, Youngling.” Master Rokoor reassures, helping Obeena down and kneeling in front of her. They have a thick, twisting accent, heavier than the common Core accent found on Coruscant. “I promise, ye aren’t in trouble, Obeena. No, I pulled you out of class because I have something to ask ye, dear one.” Obeena’s already big blue eyes have gotten even bigger as she stares at the tin of tea leaves the Master is holding. “Crecheling Kenobi, are ye ready for yer first errand?” Xey ask, and Obeena shoves both of her chubby little hands over her mouth to cover her gasp.
“Yes! Yes, ‘m ready! Where’m I goin’?” She asks, taking the tin like the leaves inside are precious gold and hugging it to her chest.
“Hold on, Obeena.” The Creche Master chides, setting a hand on her shoulder and pulsing a soothing deep blue over her. “Ye need to know more before ye jus’ accept, all right? Always learn before we act, remember?
Delahm, kyii leo’yth.
” Obeena takes a deep breath and nods, scrunching her face up a bit.
“What would my errand
be
?” Rokoor nods, smiling at her. Xeir aura tints a warm orange-pink, fond and adoring and proud. They scoop her up and settle her on her feet, kneeling to be at eye level.
“Should ye accept, Crecheling, you’d be taking these,” They tap a brightly painted nail on the tin. “All the way to the High Council Chambers, to
Jaieh
Windu.” When Obeena stares, confused and intimidated, Rokoor sighs; cupping her cheek gently. “Ach, dear one, no need to be afraid. I wouldnae ask this if I didnae think you could do it. You’ll nae be leaving Temple, and our home will help ye if ye just ask. Now,” Xey straighten up a bit, smiling at her. “Are ye ready?”
“I’m ready for my errand, Mas’er.” Adjusting the tin, Obeena nods seriously, and Rokoor bites xeir lip to resist cooing at her.
“I know ye are, dear one. Do you remember the path from our last Clan trip?” Rokoor gently stands and takes Obeena’s hand, walking her to the doors that lead out of the Creche halls, pausing outside of the elevator.
“I do! ‘Nd I can ask Temple or the Guardians for help.”
“Aye, ye can.” The elevator arrived, doors sliding open gently before the pair. “Go on then.” Rokoor gently nudges Obeena, who nods and steps in, tiny eyes determined. “
Eno Dai veshah keelel mellu im tamah foh veshah keelel
, Crecheling Kenobi.” Xey press the button and bow lowly to her, and the doors slide closed.
“I am one with th’ Force, and th’ Force is with me.” Obeena recites to herself, and the doors open on the correct floor. As she marches out past a few Knight and Senior Padawans, they can all be seen watching her path, cooing to each other, a few Knights even clutching at their chests or covering their mouths dramatically when she bowed shallowly to them.
The walk seems to take forever, for a tiny four year old. The Creche Halls are in the Western Wing, and the High Council Chamber is in the Northern Spire. Still, she doesn’t stop. A few Padawans make moves to approach the Crecheling so far from the Halls, but they are always pulled back by their friends or Masters, who gesture to the tin she still has hugged to her chest.
‘First errand!’ is hissed several times, and all of them pull away at once. That doesn’t stop some of them from taking photos of the adorably determined child, of course. Only one of the Temple Guardians stops her, kneeling in front of her.
“Are you alright, Crecheling? This is quite far from the Creche Halls.” They ask, concern still evident despite their wooden mask as their Force signature goes a sort of sour-apple-green. “Do you need escorted back?”
“No, thank you.” She speaks as clearly as she can. “I hafta take this,” She holds up the tin carefully. “To Jaieh Windu.” The Guardian nods solemnly, and stands slowly.
“May the Force be with you on your way, youngling.” The Guardian steps aside and bows her on her way. Obeena bows back as best she can with the tin in her arms, continuing on. As she turns the corner, the Guardian can be seen slipping a small comm out of their pocket and typing into it.
Frankly speaking, she does quite well until she reaches the Northern Spire elevator bank. Suddenly, it’s apparent why Master Rokoor had pressed the button before. Obeena, age four and rather small, is too short to reach the buttons.
“Oh no. ” She mutters, looking around. No one in sight. Slowly, she turns in a full circle. Not a single Jedi in sight. She tries to hop, but is still too short. Just as she starts to panic, the light sconces on the wall flutter in vibrant colors. “Oh!” Obeena presses her forehead to the wall next to the buttons, closing her eyes as she opens her connection to the Force slightly. “Temple?” She asks, pulsing a faint, clumsy poke into the Force.
There’s a pulse of ' affection-attention- hello small dear! ' A feeling like a warm blanket wrapping around her, gentle hands carding through her hair. She giggles, nose scrunching. “Can you make the ela-lator go up to the Council Room, pretty please?”
‘Fondness-warmth-affection-pride-of course dear one!’ The elevator doors open, and once she’s in, it starts to rise. Obeena smiles, watching the Coruscant skyline as the elevator goes up. She does a proud little wiggle, clearly proud of herself.
“Thank you, Temple!” She says once it stops, bowing a little to the empty elevator as she steps out. The Temple Guards standing at the sides of the Council Chamber doors visibly soften as she steps out, straightening when she turns to face them. She approaches the besalisk Senior Padawan on Desk Duty, putting the tin on the desk and pulling herself up on her tip-toes to look over, struggling a little to make herself seen.
"I have a deliv'ry for Mas'er Windu. May I go in, please?" The one Guardian brings a hand up to clutch at their chest like they're having a heart attack at how cute she is, and the other presses a hand over their golden mask, as if trying to hide a smile. The Senior Padawan, clearly stifling a smile of his own, nods, grabbing his datapad.
"Welcome, youngling. Can you please tell me your name?" He asks.
"Crecheling Obeena-Wan Kenobi." She says, in her most formal voice, and the first Guardian prods the other in the Force, both of them going cuteness-pink. Both are still silent, watching this from their posts behind Obeena, across from the desk, but both are clearly overjoyed by how cute she is. Obeena approaches the doors, nervous, raising a small hand to knock. After a moment, an answer came from inside.
"Enter, you may!" The Guards open the doors then, and Obeena takes a few hesitant steps inside. "Hello, Crecheling. A delivery, you have?" Yoda asks, and Obeena nods.
"Yes, Grandmas'er Yoda." She approaches Mace's chair and bows.
"Hello, little one. What do you have for me?" Mace asks, smiling.
"I brough' your tea leaves, Jaieh Windu." She offers him the tin, and Mace smiles.
"Thank you very much, Crecheling. Tell me, did you walk all the way here? It's very far from the Creche." He sets the tin of tea leaves on the small table next to him, and in the seat across from Mace, Master Tyvokka can be seen recording.
"Yes, Jaieh . I took the ela'lator. Temple had to help me though. I couldn' reach the buttons." She blushes here, and Plo Koon, visible in the background, presses a hand over his heart, gesturing emphatically at her with the other as if trying to emphasize to the others how adorable she was. When she tried to stifle a small yawn, he sagged back in his chair as if struck by a blaster bolt.
"Clever, it was, to ask Temple. Those who ask, our home will always help." Jaieh Yoda offers. Obeena blushes harder, pressing tiny hands to her face as she squeaks a little.
"Would you like to rest before returning to the Creche, young one?" Mace asked, and Obeena nodded. Clearly, the excitement and nerves have caught up with her.
"Yes, please." Yawning, she stretches gently for him in a near universal gesture. Mace easily scoops her to sit with him, settling her against his chest and adjusting his robes to double as a blanket for her.
"Go ahead and rest now, youngling, we'll get you back to the Creche Halls once the Council meeting is over, hm? That way, we can tell your Creche Masters that you did very well on your first errand." Obeena yawns and nods, resting her head against Mace's shoulder. She's asleep in a few minutes.
When the memory ends, so does the broadcast. Yan can’t help but think back on that day with a sort of bittersweet fondness. He had been in Temple at the time, and the general chats had been flooded with images of the Crecheling on her first errand. Such things were always the talk of the Temple, and in more traditional Lineages, usually sparked a showing of old photos of younger members around tea tables and refectory halls. Obeena’s had been special because of how long her journey had been, and because her destination was rather higher profile than most. Jocasta had even messaged him that her favorite youngling had done wonderful on her first errand and told Jo all about it on her Clans next trip to the Archives. He had gone to report to the Council the next day on a recent mission and they had all gotten absolutely nothing done. Instead, they were all discussing sentimental moments of their own Padawans, fond memories of other First Errands. Even Yoda had cooed over a few photos.
After that memory, he had gently helped his grandpadawan to leave the pod, and ensured that a few of the servants of the estate they were dwelling in helped her to her room, and checked on her a few times through the night. Yan did not wish to admit it, but he had been reluctant to reapply the nullifying cuffs. He can sense Obeena in her rooms, meditating to rebuild her shields while fending away the strands of the Unifying seeking to wrap about her. Still, despite his own lack of connection to the Unifying, he can already feel a turn for the Lighter.
Ah, his former master must be seething. The thought is almost enough to make him smile a little.