Chapter Text
A young man was running, beige robes collecting sweat and blood as he ran from room to room, desperately hoping to find someone alive. He heard the sounds of lightsabers, the screams of people dying, his own heartbeat loud in his ears. Please , he begged to something that neither listened or cared, Please let me find them alive. His lungs were screaming at him, his eyes stung with tears unshed. He was afraid. He was angry. He wanted to know why . Why the temple? Why the middle of the night? He knew the Sith walked in darkness, but how could they be so heartless?
He rounded a corner, saw a flash of red disappear down another corridor. Please, he begged that distant and uncaring thing again, Please don’t let me be too late.
Through the door there were younglings- children- crowded in the corner, huddled together, keeping one another quiet. “Where is your master?” The moment he asked, voice barely above a whisper, he didn’t think he wanted to know, so rather than letting them respond, he held out his hand, “Come with me.”
He counted them as they rushed to him. Fifteen. Fifteen lives he had to protect. Fifteen innocent children whose only crimes were that they were being trained by the Jedi. “Stay close to me.” He would get them out, to the shuttle. Get them off the planet if he had to, “We need to be quick, but quiet. Can you all do that for me?” The children stared at him, wide eyed, obviously afraid. “Emotion, yet peace-” He stopped himself, shaking his head, “Say it with me, but quietly,” He gave the children a short moment to collect themselves, then they recited the code as one, “Emotion, yet peace. Ignorance, yet knowledge. Passion, yet serenity. Chaos, yet harmony. Death, yet the Force.”
It was too much, asking children not to be afraid of dying. And yet, he had to do it.
They were braver than he was. Not one child hesitated to follow him out of the safety of that room. Not one of them jumped when he ignited his saber, not one of them made a sound as they ran down the corridor. They would all grow up to be excellent Jedi. Because he was going to make sure they had the chance to.
The Sith had blindsided him. He was in too much of a rush, hadn’t checked the corridor that crossed with the one they were running down, barely heard them in time to bat away the blood red lightsaber with his own blue blade. His only consideration through it all was keeping the children safe. They deserved a fighting chance, so he fought much more aggressively than he ever had in his sparring matches.
He ended up on the ground, looking up at a looming figure dressed in black, feeling the eerie freezing cold of the colored part of the saber. There was a strange sense of calm about him. If he died here, he died well, he protected the children to his last breath. Wasn’t that what the Jedi were? Protectors? He could be proud of that, but he’d be prouder if they all lived to speak of this day. He reached out with the Force, with all of his might, pushed his enemy against the wall and knocked the wind out of them. He rolled to his feet and brought his blade down on their neck before they could recover. He’d never killed a person before. He felt sick.
“Come along,” He urged the children, “We aren’t far.”
He made the children wait just outside of view as he checked other rooms. He found nothing but death. Dead padawans, dead knights, dead masters, dead younglings. The Sith meant to wipe out as many of them as they could, and while he could understand why, at least abstractly, he didn’t understand how someone could do this. Eventually he’d seen enough death to last a lifetime and decided to stop looking.
“Are we going to check that room?”
The child was asking so innocently, thinking he must have just forgotten. He shook his head, “No, we’re going to get all of you out of here.” He had to save these children. He could save these children. Everything else was out of his control now.
He didn’t know at what point one of the children had grabbed his hand. He didn’t know when he’d picked up the slowest of the group and started carrying him on his back. He just knew that this mission- that no one had given him, that he’d taken upon his shoulders himself- was the most important one he would ever carry out.
“It’s just a little farther,” If they could get to the hangar area, maybe he could get them into a ship, figure out where to go from there, “Just hold on a little longer.”
It was a miracle that they made it to the shuttle. That there was a shuttle. An old Master stood there, no doubt waiting to see if anyone else would make it alive. “Take the younglings!” The young Jedi urged the Master, “Please, we have to get them to safety.” All fifteen of them. Every last one deserved to make it to safety. They deserved a chance to grow up.
The sixteen of them were shepherded onto the shuttle, brought to a spaceport. They could wait there, they were told, or they could get a ticket to another temple, someplace else. They decided to wait, see what other survivors the shuttle may bring back.
It never returned. But they made it. His mission, that self-imposed thing that he’d burdened himself with, had been a success. And as they sat waiting, he held a child close to him, ran his fingers through the little girl’s messy hair and promised her that the worst was over. He would make sure they got to somewhere safe. That nothing would happen to any of them. They didn’t need to be afraid anymore, any of them.
Coruscant. Dvorn had lived there his entire life. Realistically he knew that he’d lived on Pantora at some point, but he had no memories of the place. He was hardly weaned when they’d brought him to the temple. So it was strange, staring back as they evacuated the planet. It was hard to imagine that the Sith had taken over. That he may never return to the only home he had ever known.
“Consular Remin,” The words brought him out of his thoughts, and as he turned he saw Master Leede standing behind him, no doubt ready to impart words of wisdom. He was still young enough, fresh enough out of being a padawan, that he often wasn’t truly considered by his rank- regardless of what the masters said . “We have a mission for you." His first mission as a Jedi Knight, so soon after witnessing the destruction of the temple where he’d grown up. He spent the rest of the journey hearing about the mission he was meant to undertake.
They’d hardly arrived at the Temple on Ledeve when Dvorn was whisked away on a diplomatic mission to Chandrila. He didn’t know why they'd chosen him, only that he and Jedi Knight Bordimah, who he hadn’t even had the chance to meet before boarding the ship, were taking this task together. He didn’t see the man until hours into the journey, his deep purple skin standing out against the stark white of the ship’s interior, his lekku and montrals both beautiful and proud. Dvorn had met Togruta before, but Knight Bordimah seemed an exceptionally beautiful specimen. “Knight Bordimah?” Dvorn didn’t want to assume, but he thought himself correct.
The Torgruta turned to face Dvorn, brilliant blue eyes not giving away anything about his thoughts; he seemed particularly skilled at tempering his emotions, “You must be Consular Remin.”
“Please, call me Dvorn.”
“Then you must call me Gali.”
And just like that, they were on a first-name basis. It felt wrong, considering the general formality of the Jedi; usually only masters and apprentices grew close enough for that. It felt like they were committing a secret sin. But the surety on Gali’s face and the very hint of conspiracy in his voice were enough to make Dvorn’s heart skip a beat, his blue skin turning purple at the cheeks. He wasn’t sure what about the man made him react this way, but he thought that he liked it.
Later, Gali would let Dvorn take the lead in negotiations.
“Senator Selwad, we are only asking for a safe place to bring the younglings that have survived the attack on the temple on Coruscant,” Dvorn didn’t know why they didn’t send a more experienced negotiator for this, or how Gali managed to sit so still and tall in the seat next to his, “We would never dream of destabilizing Chandrila’s ecosystem or putting your people in any danger.”
“And siding with the Jedi wouldn’t put us in harm’s way, Consular?” The senator was an older man, stuck in his ways, his gray hair plastered to his head with too much product. But he was their best chance for getting the children somewhere the Sith wouldn’t go after them.
“But for the sake of the children, the future of-” Dvorn hated being interrupted, and it was clear on his face that he was displeased as the senator spoke.
“We will put it to a vote, but I will warn you that my colleagues will very likely express the same hesitation.” Saeh Selwad stood from his seat, motioned for the two Jedi to do the same, “Gentlemen, it’s been an honor to speak with you both.”
“The honor is ours, Senator.” Gali’s deep voice created sparks of electricity down Dvorn’s spine. Was the honor theirs? Being stuck in these seats, sitting so close together their knees practically touched, being able to feel one another’s body heat and every shift for comfort. Perhaps the honor was all Dvorn’s. He watched as Gali set aside his half-empty cup of tea and stood. Dvorn followed his lead.
“Thank you for hearing our request,” Dvorn smiled at the senator, teeth bright and brilliant against blue lips, “It’s my sincerest hope that you find the space on your planet, and in your hearts, for the children.”
As they were led out of the room, Dvorn sighed silently, letting his shoulders drop. Only slightly, but enough that Gali must have noticed. “Don’t be discouraged,” Dvorn cast a sideways glance at Gali, that deep voice getting his attention immediately, “They sent you because they knew this would fail. Now they can blame your lack of experience instead of Chandrilian coldness.”
“Perhaps,” They paused at a window, and Dvorn stared out at the beauty and majesty of the planet they were on. Lush, green, beautiful. Now that he had seen it, Dvorn understood the efforts to preserve Chandrila. It made him wonder just what Coruscant had looked like before it became nothing but towering buildings and crumbling infrastructure. But such thoughts served no one. “I find it hard to believe The Masters would set me up for failure. Perhaps they thought someone younger would garner more sympathy.”
They were quiet for a long moment before Gali spoke again. “You lived on Coruscant?” It was a question, but Gali knew the response Dvorn would give.
“Since I was a youngling.”
“Were you there?” He was fishing, Dvorn knew he was. He wanted a reason to have Dvorn sent to some scenic temple in the middle of nowhere to rest and recuperate while the Sith slaughtered Jedi all across the galaxy. He wanted a reason to recommend that Dvorn not be put on any further missions, because he was unstable, he was broken, he was no good at this.
“Yes.”
“It must have been jarring to see the temple destroyed.”
“It was.” He kept any emotion out of his voice, knew if he stuck to simple replies that he would be fine. He was fine.
There was another pause in the conversation. Gali was no doubt trying to decide how hard to push, how deep to dig. “Are you-”
Dvorn interrupted him, despite how he hated it, himself. Despite the rudeness of it. “I am at peace.” His voice was sharp, brought to a deadly point that may have pierced deeply into a more sensitive soul.
Gali looked at him like he doubted him, and he should have, with the sharpness of his words. Dvorn never looked at the man, but could see his face in the reflection of the window. He was so handsome, and looked genuinely concerned for Dvorn’s well being “I think anyone would understand if you grieved for your home.”
“Anywhere the Force leads me is my home.”
“The masters would be so pleased with that response.” Gali sounded amused, smiled softly as they stared out the window together. He dropped the subject there, and after a few more moments they walked back to the rooms they were being loaned for the night.
But if Dvorn were being honest, he was concerned by how calm he felt in losing everything he’d ever known. In losing almost everyone he’d ever known. Maybe he was still in shock, but he felt nothing. Just a sense of calm. And when he looked himself in the mirror he wondered whether the teachings of the Jedi had stunted him somehow.
No. The Jedi were right. It was the way they kept balance. The way they stayed walking the path of light.
His mind strayed to the faces of people that had died. Friends, strangers, young, old. The Sith did not hesitate to cut them down.
There is no emotion, there is peace.
They were one with the Force now. They were at peace.
He thought of running, of the burning cold of the red of a lightsaber far too near his face. Hardly pushing it away, taking his first life.
There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.
He’d been defending himself. There was no time to negotiate for his life against someone who had no intention of sparing it.
There is no passion, there is serenity.
He heard the terrified screams of the younglings as he ran, trying to save just one. Just one in just one group. He arrived too late, had to look at them splayed out on the ground.
There is no chaos, there is harmony.
There was no reason to kill the children. They were young. Innocent. The Sith could have easily taken them, twisted them to their will. At least they would be alive. At least they would have had a chance.
There is no death, there is the Force.
The mirror cracked, crushed by the weight of something unfamiliar and unconscious to Dvorn. Something he couldn’t feel, had to suppress. Hatred is a path to darkness. Dvorn was not in darkness, he walked in the light. He felt no rage. The Sith would face their downfall. He did not want vengeance. The younglings were with the Force. They would not want him to fall on their behalf. He had to conquer this darkness building within him, or it would control him. He wished they could have saved more of the children. Wished he’d killed more of the Sith-
“You are part of me,” He whispered, speaking to that secret darkness within his heart, “But you do not have power over me.”