Thanks anon! I’m so sorry you’re living under Bolsonaro, and I hope that you stay safe and also keep fighting.
This snippet is one of the most recent bits of Anabasis I’ve written, featuring Jocasta and Dooku. There’s a few references to things that have happened in previously posted snippets, and also a couple of references to things which I refuse to explain, because I’m trying to maintain some level of suspense. I hope it brings you some joy.
Yan seemed surprised to find Jocasta waiting for him outside
his quarters – surprised enough that it actually took him a moment to hide it.
In earlier days Jocasta might have teased him about that. Now she only leveled
a pointed stare at him and waited.
“Ah,” said Yan at last. He didn’t smile. “Won’t you come in,
Jo?”
He hadn’t called her Jo in years. Decades, maybe. The name
made something in her soften, just a little, but she was careful not to let it
show on her face. He swiped the door open and she followed him inside without a
word.
“Tea?” asked Yan, already filling the kettle with enough
water for two and setting it to boil on the cooker.
Jocasta sighed. He was determined to be unflappable, but
perhaps she could allow him that. It wasn’t really him she was frustrated with,
after all.
But that didn’t mean she needed to make things too easy for
him.
Summary: Dooku continues his power-games with Qui-Gon, and Micah can only try to keep his friend from spiraling into desperate maneuvers.
Wordcount: 4,099
When Obi-Wan opened the door, all Micah could do was wearily wish
that whatever was going on, he could stop being so behind the curve.
Kenobi looked miserable – not the resolute
kind-of-upset-about-potentially-overturning-his-life, but more
things-went-seriously-tits-up miserable. Micah could barely wait till
the door closed before blurting out, “What happened?”
…….I thought his name was Yan? Where did I get that?? @deadcatwithaflamethrower is this your fault???
Sooooo apparently the trend of “completely stupid names for characters who didn’t NEED another name” continues?
Also…when you have a noble title, and someone says your title and name? THAT IS YOUR GIVEN NAME FOLLOWING THE TITLE. NOT YOUR FAMILY NAME. STUPID FUCKING FUCKS– *goes off into completely incoherent rant about how five minutes of research would have taught someone NOT TO DO THIS STUPID SHIT*
(Yan has been canon-fanon for a while, but I can’t remember who introduced it. @morgynleri, maybe?)
Not me! I rarely use any other name for him, myself, and if I’m going to use an additional name for him, it’s going to be Sannul (because it was what I came up with when trying to give names to those around him, and Wookieepedia went “Dooku is the family name”).
And, actually, I may rearrange the world building in the AU where I use that, and swap given and family name, because fuck canon, that’s why. *eyes the canonical first name* Yeah. Canon can fuck the fuck off, I’ll stick to my own world building.
As for Yan – first time I saw it used was in a post @poplitealqueen either posted or reblogged.
And while I’m working on this particular AU – not everyone who has gone to rescue Qui-Gon is going to come back alive. Vinris and Olwin are going to come back (there are not enough women in canon, I’m not killing my female OCs when I have other options). The question is, who doesn’t? I haven’t even begun to decide yet.
Options: Mace Windu, Dooku, Tholme, Feemor, or Micah Giett.
I’m inclined to leave both Mace and Dooku alone, if only because they’ve got stuff in canon that they’re important for, and I can have a good deal of fun with Dooku and Sith and this little mess.
Feemor just knighted his first Padawan (Olwin), and if I kill him, it might do her some harm, particularly since she’s going to be present.
Tholme is already inside and in danger, which would make it easy to kill him. He also has a Padawan, and it’s not likely to be terribly good for Quinlan to lose his Master to this.
And Micah… I take @deadcatwithaflamethrower‘s Re-Entry as canon for the most part. He’s good at fighting, and there’s only going to be two Sith vs the rescue team (ok, and the security of the compound, which is not to be sneezed at). Which does not put him at the top of the list to die.
*chews on lip and contemplates reaching for a coin to flip between Feemor and Tholme* One or the other or I could embrace the power of and. Choices, choices. And not until after this dinner party at which Tholme and Vinris are being twitchy Jedi about Qui-Gon and his apparent switching of sides.
2200:
Fuck it. And. And is such an awesome word. *goes to plan out killing two Jedi*
Started thinking about alterna!Obi today while opening at work. An Obi-Wan who Falls in the generator complex on Naboo in order to save Qui-Gon…
An Obi-Wan who’s banished from the Order because he used the Dark Side to beat a Sith…
An Obi-Wan whose Master defended him, but not nearly enough to save him, and ends up watching his Master take on a new Padawan only days after his banishment…
An Obi-Wan who’s hard and angry and just wants to tear something apart with his bare hands because he can’t contain his hurt…
An Obi-Wan who, when faced with Dooku trying to recruit him, goes “fuck this system” and forges his own way to use the Force, both Dark and Light…
An Obi-Wan who becomes a bounty hunter for the poor and helpless with no one else to turn to, whom the Outer Rim whispers about in the shadows…
An Obi-Wan who makes a living hunting down murderers and rapists and smugglers and bringing them to justice, but makes a life freeing slaves and finding homes for orphaned children and sheltering people who are just as lost as he is…
… and then I thought “what if this Darksider!Obi-Wan with snarky assholish tendencies gets tossed into a more canon universe, sees Rex and his pining-after-General-Kenobi-from-afar face, and goes ‘yep, that one, I want that one’.”
HNNGNN.
So. Uh. Hypothetically speaking, do you have a preferred for of bribery for writing? Askingforafriend.
*looks pointedly over at my writing history* Buddy, pal, friendo, trust me, you do not want me to be the one to try to write something this involved. I can manage a couple thousand words of silly shenanigans but that’s about it. However… if you or anyone else wants to take a crack at it, again, pretty much anything I post is for the taking.
::grins and shares cookies:: Was worth asking! Thank you!
Okay. Here, have some rough draft feels. Maybe I can dissuade you.
***
Qui-Gon stopped before Dooku, and bowed.
“Thank you for helping her,” he said.
“I wasn’t helping her,” Dooku responded softly, and to Ahsoka’s surprise, his gaze softened. The unhealthy glow of his eyes almost returned to a normal color.
Qui-Gon’s face didn’t change. He continued to look closed off from the Sith Lord, defending against something that Ahsoka couldn’t see.
“I still appreciate it,” Qui-Gon said, “very much.”
As Qui-Gon turned to go, Dooku grabbed him by the shoulder. “Qui-Gon,” he began, and for the first time that Ahsoka had ever known him, Dooku stuttered. “You… surely this must open your eyes to the problems inherent within the Order and the Republic. Why stay with them? “His eyes shown a bright, brilliant gold again. "Why not join me, and help to fix the galaxy properly?”
A look of deep hurt passed over Qui-Gon’s features before he shrugged off the hand on his shoulder. The look of reigned-in remorse on Dooku’s face was enough to make Ahsoka nearly feel sorry for him. In that moment, he looked old. Old and terribly alone.
“I have always been aware that the Order and the Republic are deeply flawed, but one can fix something better from within than from burning it to the ground and scattering the ashes.” Qui-Gon looked up at Dooku, and seemed about to say more, but instead he bowed again. “May the Force be with you, Count.”
Dooku didn’t bow. He hardly moved at all. “And with you as well, General,” he growled.
The last part of this particular story in the AU. Next up: back to Setan’s little moon base, where there is an impending confrontation between Sith and Jedi.
Mace gives the Council Vos’s report, the information relayed from Tholme and Vinris worrying. A Dark Force-user who has taken a Jedi without any concerns that they’ll be caught, and who took one of the better duelists of the Order without any apparent difficulty, or struggle. Who is holding Jinn deeply enough in his compound that while they’re certain he’s there, they haven’t actually seen him. Only heard the servants whisper of a Jedi being in with their master, and their relief that it is someone else in that position, and not any of them.
They need to send others to help Tholme and Vinris, and Mace has a few in mind, provided he can convince the Council this requires more than the two already there. Perhaps even if he can’t – Mace doubts it will take more than informing Masters Dooku and Giett to convince them to gather the others he has in mind to take on the rescue mission of their own volition.
He suspects there would be more arguing if he’d chosen anyone else for this mission, and the debate over what the actual nature is of the place Tholme and Vinris had found is enough to make his head ache. It takes all day to get a team agreed on to take care of the Dark Force-user and rescue Jinn. A few more than Mace intended, himself included, but it will be good to get into the field again for at least a mission.
When the others are gathered together, and informed of the mission, there are frowns all around, and solemn agreement that this must be done. Dooku shares a look with Feemor, and Feemor’s newly-knighted Padawan, the three silently agreeing on something. Mace doesn’t want to know, not until after the mission is done.
The shuttle Vos brought back is the one they’re using to transport them to the moon. It hasn’t been touched except to refuel since Vos stumbled off it, and radiates the same chill evil that it had before. Mace knows it was supposed to be just a smuggler’s shuttle, but the impressions that roll off it make him wonder if the Dark Force-user they’re going after hadn’t used it himself more than once.
“Once we arrive, we make contact with Tholme and Rish before making any assault or rescue attempt.” Mace looks around at the faces of the other Jedi, reminding them of what they have of a plan.
“May the Force be with us.” That’s Olwin, the youngest of this group, and Mace hopes that her words are prophetic, despite the bad feeling he has as he turns to board the shuttle.
Fandom: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy AU: Their Name Is Death Word Count: 1142 Characters: Amidala, Maul, Dooku Ships: Amidala/Maul
Warnings: Major character death, references to mind-wiping
The court of the Empress Amidala is a place without mercy for her enemies.
Her memory will forever be fragmented, shattered by the Jedi, and remade by Sith. By her General, her Assassin. The conqueror of the Empire that spread out from the planet which had once belonged to another. Their first conquest, and the first blood that stained her hands to build a sanctuary for the broken and the bitter whose lives had been twisted by Jedi and homes had been destroyed.
She sits on a throne made of molded and carven wood, stained dark in the whorls and lines that decorated arms and back. As if blood had gathered there from where it slid from her hands and his. A fitting throne for an Empress who had begun her reign in death.
Advisors bring her news of the planets which are secured in her name, the praises sung for their freedom from the Republic – and the later murmurs of fear for what their new masters might want. She will hear it all, no matter the hesitation of some to tell her that there are those who have no love for the policies that come from her on her bloodied throne.
Let them fear and hate her. Let them tremble at the thought of drawing again the attention of her General, or the Force-users that have bowed beneath his strength. Those who have not lost to the Jedi will not understand what she is building. What she struggles to rebuild for herself.
To build once more a place where no one will ever again touch her mind and rip from her what is left. The name that she clings to with the ferocity of an enraged rancor, the love of beauty, the need to protect her people from what would destroy them. The people she had failed when the Jedi shattered her mind, and who had fallen to the greed of Jedi and Senate. Died in the ruin of what had once been her beautiful home.
The doors to her Hall open, interrupting another report of new unrest, Maul coming in with two of his subordinates trailing behind, a bound figure between them. Silver-haired and tall, black gaze boring into hers, with a tight collar that keeps it from being more than that. Dressed in the finery that was a pretense as much as the simplicity of Jedi robes.
“Dooku.” Her voice still holds the cadence and majesty of her lost world, another thing she will not allow the Jedi take from her again.
Maul doesn’t stop, marching up the steps of the dais to take his place at her right hand, just behind the throne. Where he could lean in and speak quietly to her, or simply look menacing to her advisors and enemies alike.
“For the anniversary of your rebirth, my Queen.” The day he’d taken her from the Senate, and left only a crashed shuttle heavy with blood and fear and pain for the Jedi to find. Too mangled and slagged for them to expect to find more than DNA traces.
Amidala tilts her head in acknowledgement, her attention remaining on Dooku. His fate was sealed when he was brought here by Maul, the only thing remaining was the manner of it. By her hand, certainly. She could remember Dooku as the one who’d always come to her in the Senate, sometimes with Maul trailing after him like an obedient puppet, hiding in his own chains. Knew that Dooku was one of those who had a hand in her shattering, though that was nothing more than fragmentary flashes of memory.
For that, she would repay him with her own justice, her own vengeance. There is no room for mercy in her court, in her Empire, not for those who would take a person’s very being from them.
Standing, she holds out her hand, waiting for the hilt to be placed in it. The blade made for her, to be the symbol of her rule and her justice. Red as the blood she was willing to spill to protect her people, her Empire, and her person.
Maul’s subordinates holding Dooku forced him down to his knees with some struggle, to submit to her justice. Holding him in place with the Force as they step back, silent witnesses to the moment, as are the advisors now mute with familiar fear.
“Jedi Dooku, you are here to answer for the harm you have done to our person and to our people. For the destruction of memory and of planet.” She looks down to meet his gaze, holding the unlit blade in front of her, waiting. “Will you speak to these charges?”
“Your rebellion against the Republic will not go unpunished, Senator.” Dooku’s voice is smooth and polished, his tone the careful gentleness of a parent scolding an unruly child. “You should cease this foolishness, and return home, where you can begin to heal from the harm the Sith has done to you, once you have accepted the justice of the Senate.”
“The Senate is nothing but a puppet body for the Jedi.” Amidala doesn’t let the rage she feels color her voice. “Neither has authority here. The penalty for the charges against you is death. Will you speak to those charges?”
“I have done nothing wrong. The damage to Naboo was at their own hands, and no doing of mine or the Republic. No one laid a finger on you, Senator.”
Amidala tilts her chin up a little, letting her anger seep into her voice as ice freezing in cracks of stone. “I am a Queen, and I shall not submit to the Jedi construction of my being. You were the instrument of that once, and here, you hold no power to do so again.”
She walks down the steps, robes and crown creating sounds that echo back to her as rattling branches and dry leaves in a hot wind. Death made form, the blade coming to life with a familiar hiss and snap – snakes and broken bones. Dooku’s eyes have only a moment to widen before she swings the blade, cutting through flesh as easily as through air, and sending his head tumbling across the floor.
“Justice be served.” The thin voice of her head advisor breaks the silence, the words ritual and rote, a comfort to those who have not met the fate of the condemned.
Maul takes the blade back when she returns to her throne, placing it once more where it belonged. There were few deaths here when he was not present, for few dared to challenge her authority now.
“Continue with your reports.”
She listens to them begin slowly to speak once more, as Maul’s subordinates remove the corpse to incinerate it, and the head to be returned to the Jedi as a reminder that she would not brook their intrusion into her Empire. She will not be subjugated again.
There's a Mirror on the Wall 