"Lady Serenno." The frigid welcome met her as soon as she set foot on the landing pad, a stark departure from her expectations. Despite the presence of poignant memories, she frequented her home, relishing moments with her people as she immersed herself in the essence of her origin and planet.
"General Chrodber," she acknowledged with a curt nod as the man bowed before her. He fell into step beside her, evidently intending to escort her to Borgin Castle. "I sense things aren't going smoothly."
There wasn't even a need for one to be a Jedi; as worry was etched into the man's features, with a mixture of anger.
"If I may speak frankly—"
"Please, nothing but honesty," she interjected.
Given her current emotional state, she anticipated an urge to react aggressively, yet she restrained herself, mindful of her duty to her subordinates, especially on her own planet.
Custom dictates a dual leadership for Serenno, with a male and a female ruler. While Dooku held the primary position, their sister Jenza served as the secondary face of authority, for the time being. As the rightful successor, Leilani stood poised to assume leadership in any eventuality. Thus, she took the role dutifully, addressing her people with respect, striving to earn their regard. No matter how crossed, how frustrated she was, she always calmed down on Serenno.
"Count Dooku appears to be following in your father's footsteps, reducing the military presence by nearly half and replacing soldiers with droids. Many are losing their livelihoods, yet he appears oblivious or indifferent to their plight... And don't misunderstand me, I remain loyal to the Count."
"I know— But what caused my father's and brother's downfall was the exact same," she sighed.
She certainly didn't come here to talk politics — but there seemed to be no escape from it. Count Gora was rumoured to have cursed their world, no one could be better, lighter or different from him; and Dooku's moves were only a proof of it. It was often that the officials came to her for aid or even just advice. Somewhat hoping that she could talk to Dooku and change his mind. But she highly doubted that it would be possible now.
"I am afraid that the same fate will reach him," he explained, while opening the doors to the Castle for the woman.
"Well, at least he can't murder himself," even if it would serve him right.
However, entertaining the thought was one matter, while actively wishing for it to happen was an entirely different story. Despite the grief and sadness that crippled her heart, she let go...she had learned to let go many years ago. In the present moment, just as before, she wasn't seeking revenge. Her sole desire was to comprehend, to fathom the reasons behind what had transpired, to understand the what and why of it all.
She took an unsteady step toward the door, halting the General from announcing her in the main hall. It was unnecessary. Dooku must have detected her presence, just as she sensed his; his aura shielded, resistant to revealing his emotions, resisting her awareness. Nevertheless, she perceived it. There was no requirement to cross the threshold or lay eyes on him; she knew, she felt it.
"I'll attempt to reason with him. However, I can't guarantee anything. You're aware of how headstrong he is," she remarked, her hand resting on the shoulder of General Chrodber, his grey hair a testament to his years of service.
General Chrodber remained steadfastly loyal and trusting, perpetually striving for the welfare of the ruling family, including her own. However, his counsel often reached only Jenza and Leilani, failing to penetrate Dooku's consciousness.
Once more, the man bowed deeply as she pushed open the door, the creaking hinges echoing through the chamber. With measured steps, she advanced, bracing herself to confront a reality for which she could never truly prepare.
The main hall unveiled itself in a grand spectacle of opulence and history. Towering columns adorned with intricate carvings framed the space, leading the eye upward to a vaulted ceiling adorned with faded murals depicting the region's storied past. The air in the hall was thick with the scent of aged wood and polished marble. Elaborate tapestries lined the walls, telling tales of battles and triumphs long past. A massive chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting a warm glow over the room and reflecting off the polished marble floor below.
At the far end of the hall, a grand throne sat atop a raised dais, where Count Dooku held court and where he stood now, looking towards Leilani. "I was not expecting to see you so soon," he commented, as she stopped and stood in front of the platform. "Ah, and I see that you have finally crafted your new lightsaber. Most impressive."
"Indeed—"
"But that is not why you are here," he said slowly, meditatively. "Nor to discuss politics with my own General."
She took another, hesitant step forward, her right hand hovering over the lightsaber secured to her hip. "You're right."
His scrutinising gaze focused on her hand. "You do not intend to end my life, do you?"
"We both understand that I couldn't," she replied, her features subtly twitching in the ambient light. "I couldn't commit such an act... not like you did."
The confession of her acknowledgment of truth emerged with a chilling detachment, each word falling from her lips like shards of ice. Her demeanour remained stoic, betraying little emotion as she confronted the reality before her. Even her voice, usually warm and resonant, darkened for a fleeting moment.
He took a lengthy pause before responding again. "You...know." Recognition struck him with a force that seemed almost greater than witnessing the disgust, the unadulterated repugnance in his sister's eyes for the first time. Leilani had always regarded him with eyes aglow, once idolising the man, his demeanour, his strategies. This new sentiment, this disdain, felt alien to both of them.
"And I have hoped for it to be false, for my visions to deceive me...but you really did it—"
Dooku remained silent, as he stepped down from the dais. She too, took a step back.
"Why? How could you—. You are better than this, Dooku, so much better. You have saved me from our father's influence and abuse. You've got me out of the cell I've been and raised me like your own daughter; even though we are merely half-siblings," she stopped for a moment, looking at him, searching for his eyes. "For what? Only to murder my own Master? Lure me to the dark side?"
Dooku lifted an eyebrow. "That is what you take me for?"
"I don't know you anymore." Horror squeezed her voice down to a whisper.
"I only want to bring peace and justice to the galaxy," he sighed. "The Jedi failed and fails everyday; they serve a corrupt Senate blindly that they are supposed to represent."
"And I have agreed with you on that so many times before—"
"No matter what we do or try to achieve, they will always stop us. I have tried to warn them against it, make them see the truth. But the Council is keeping us back...they do not let you see the picture as a whole."
"Dooku—"
"I desire to serve the Empire of the Man, Leilani. To end corruption, to bring justice to all humans and species, not only the noble and the wealthy, like so many do. And that is what I have been promised."
He turned to see her again. His eyes full of flame.
"And for that, you became weak, you let the dark side lure you in — no control, but blindness. You've let someone manipulate you, make you think that something like that can be achieved," she tried to reason. "You are a puppet in someone's game, Dooku. They are playing with you while you betray everyone and everything that you hold close. How can you not see it?"
Dooku remained incredulous. After all, how could she comprehend, how could she ever perceive or feel the tumult, the anarchy, the chaos coursing through the galaxy? He was convinced that he held the power to alter it, to forge a cohesive, new world—an order of justice. This conviction stemmed from his belief in being a distinguished figure and an integral part of a greater purpose.
"Sacrifices must be made for the greater good," he said, calling his lightsaber to his hand, with the Force. "I wanted you here, with me; both of us serving as the hand of justice. How dignified it would be."
"For what? To train me as a dark Jedi? Perhaps even in the sith ways?" She reached for her lightsaber yet again. "I do believe that what you see is the truth. I have listened for years, I was perhaps the only one who saw what you did—"
"Then help me."
"I can't," she brought out her saber, and angled it before herself. "I can't stand behind this."
He didn't answer, instead, he leapt.
Blue and purple blades crossed in the air, in the place they both liked to call home; right where she was saved by him years before.
Blade to blade, even heart-to-heart, they were identical, they had sparred together, trained for years, only to reach this moment; they were complimentary, both halves of the same piece — knowing each other's technique, weakness. Whenever she hit to the right, Dooku deflected it; whenever he intended to advance, she made him step back instead.
"We would be unstoppable. We would rule together," Dooku's voice had gone deeper than the well and bleak as the obsidian cliffs. "We could change the world."
"Delusion has blinded you. Whatever you do...you are planning...I am not sure that it will be any better," she said through her teeth.
A roar of the Force pushed her backwards, as she was about to strike once again, smashing out the breath from her lungs, while he held her up from her throat, making her almost choke on her saliva.
"You are judging me, while you use the dark side just as much," he spat.
"And I do nothing but regret it every minute," she forced the words out, while struggling in the air.
Advancing closer, he closed the distance, prompting her to silently extend her hand once more in an attempt to push him back, to break free from his grasp. And she succeeded. Regaining her footing, she stood resolute, clutching her lightsaber tightly, its blade pointed forward.
Dooku, undeterred, gathered his strength and surged forward once more, his blade colliding forcefully with the purple one in a clash of wills and determination.
"You want to bring justice to the galaxy, yet you fail to keep it on your own planet," she said, her words with the only intention of distracting him once again. But he just squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, as the dark power bore down on his body.
He pushed towards her left, aiming the blade right beside her head; she merely sensed it and deflected quickly. She stood her ground, pushed and retreated when needed — didn't even blink when Dooku force-kicked right below her knee. He guided the sabers, up and finally over Leilani's head in a circular angle, threatening to cut over her neck; and perhaps he could have, but stopped.
Launching a counteroffensive, she aimed a swift kick toward his ankle, causing him to falter slightly, granting her a brief window to rise to her feet and confront him face-to-face. Yet her efforts proved insufficient; relentless in his assault, Dooku pressed on unabated. Despite Leilani's unwavering resolve, he drove her backward until her back met the unyielding wall once more. Before she could even muster a thought or draw a breath, he stood before her, restraining her wrist with a firm grip that forced her lightsaber to clatter against the marble floor. Though tempted by the power of force-lightning, a recent discovery he had honed, he dismissed the notion. He didn't mean to kill her. Not her.
"Please, go," he whispered, his voice barely audible. Perhaps it was a vulnerability, or simply his deep-rooted respect for her, or even an attachment he couldn't deny — but he desired nothing but the best for her, even if it meant for them to stand on opposite sides.
Leilani felt a lump form in her throat as he pinned her against the wall, her eyes brimming with a single tear and her spirit fragmented once again. She resisted, recoiled from the idea, yet ultimately, she acquiesced with a slow, reluctant nod.
He let her go.
"I loved you, Dooku," that was all she could say.
With one final backward glance, she summoned her lightsaber into her hand with the Force and departed the hall, her head bowed low, avoiding the gaze of those present. Leaving him to the will of the Force, she walked away, the weight of betrayal heavy upon her shoulders. After a brief pause, she broke into a run, driven by an urgent need to escape—from the hall, from him, from her emotions, from her home. All she could do was cling to the hope that someday, he would return to her; that he would once again embody the brother she knew—a kindred spirit who genuinely cared, rather than one who sought to manipulate those closest to him.
She returned to Coruscant briefly but had no intention of remaining. Instead, she held a short conversation with Master Yoda, ushered her astromech up to her ship and left a communicator for Anakin before vanishing once again.