Anakin nodded and stepped into his room. "Goodnight, Master."
It wasn't a good night, though. Anakin lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. It wasn't the looming war that plagued his mind, or the investigation into the assassination, but Padme that kept him awake.
...
It wasn't as though she disliked him, or thought poorly of him. She just didn't think of him at all. He was nothing, nobody. Supposedly the Chosen One, but denied the chance to do anything by that little green goblin and that Council of old men whose only interest was continuing to do nothing. Did they really think that proving the assassin had worked alone would make a difference to Dooku, and the rest of the Outer Rim?
They were holding him back. The frustration was burning away at him, only made worse by the realisation that the woman who had filled his thoughts for almost a decade hadn't even spared a single thought for him during that same time.
Restless energy stirring inside him, Anakin eventually gave up on sleep. He sat up and turned his bedside light on, looking for something to distract his wandering mind. There was a small bookshelf in the corner, with a number of old fashioned flimsi books stocked on it, so he walked over to grab one off the shelf to read the title.
"A Complete History of the Galactic Republic. Volume Four. The Great Galactic Wars. Written by Tan'ya of House Serenno, in memory of Dr Difo Syas."
Anakin blinked at that. She wrote a book?
He read a few pages, before giving up and putting it back on the shelf. The book was incredibly dry, dispassionately going into detail about Galactic Macro-Economics, which only made Anakin's mind wander as his eyes glazed over trying to read it. He returned it to the shelf, and squatted down to check the rest of the titles.
There were nine volumes in total, with the last one being Volume 9, the New Sith Wars. No other books sat on the shelf, making Anakin's brow raise. Did they have the completed series in every guest room? Was she showing off?
He didn't have time to read nine volumes of densely packed history, but he did open up his compad and quickly looked them up online. Reviews were a bit mixed, from what Anakin could see.
The first two books were written by Dr Difo Syas and were well regarded, but the third book abruptly changed focus to the dry minutiae of warfare. Around that time the original writer died, and that was when Tan'ya stepped in. Her writing style was very much more like a report, with less focus on entertaining the audience and trying to persuade them of the moral good of the Republic, and instead took an alienating and neutral tone.
She spoke about the Republic like she was examining a foreign power, identifying its strengths, motivations and weaknesses. Some people enjoyed the tone, but it rubbed others the wrong way.
Surprisingly, there were even some news articles about Tan'ya in particular. Anakin found that there were actually several journalists who had been following the House of Serenno for years, and writing about them in a hostile context.
GHASTLY NEPOTISM IN THE OUTER RIM, shouted one headline. The author seemed particularly contemptuous of the notion that Tan'ya was credited for a wide ranging series of military reforms to Serenno, that a number of other worlds in the Alliance had begun copying. That genuinely shocked Anakin, and he found himself reading more and more about the surprising body of achievements credited to the girl.
Military reforms, diplomatic efforts, establishing academies of engineering on Raxus and Serenno, Officer Schools, and even participating in several battles if rumor was to be believed. Indinoor's Chosen One had been busy, while he was stuck in the Temple.
It just left him even more frustrated. Obi-Wan would stick up for him from time to time, but at the end of the day he just didn't see the same problem that Anakin did. 'Trust the Council,' Obi-Wan insisted, but then why didn't the Council trust Anakin? He would do anything they asked, if they just gave him something to do!
Sighing, Anakin lay back in bed. The worst thing was realising that he actually missed Watto. Yeah, the slimy junkyard owner wasn't exactly pleasant company, and of course Anakin had hated being a slave, but at least the Toydarian trusted him. Build this, fix that, clean this, check that part for damage, dismantle that hyper compressor, on and on. It wasn't fun work, and often it left Anakin covered in filthy grease and with sore hands, but at least he felt useful, and was given a chance to learn and grow.
Slave Master Watto treated Anakin better than Jedi Master Yoda in some ways. In too many ways.
If it hadn't been for Chancellor Palpatine, Anakin wouldn't know what to do. Not only had the man freed his mother and given her a place to live and work on Coruscant, but he was one of the only people who seemed to see Anakin's potential.
"'Patience is like a muscle. Exercising it makes you stronger.'" Anakin murmured. The Council might not trust him now, but the time would come when they would need him. He wasn't even a knight yet, and he was already one of the strongest in the Order.
Finally, Anakin was able to rest, the sound of sand on the wind slowly lulling him to sleep.
...
Anakin looked like he had barely slept a wink last night, and Obi-Wan could hardly blame him. With the threat of war looming over the Galaxy, Kenobi wondered how many billions of other sentients had struggled in the late hours of the night?
As a Jedi, Kenobi didn't allow himself to hate, but he certainly had no love for the Trade Federation.
He understood Dooku's grievances well; the Federation was expansionist, they wouldn't stop harassing worlds until they got their way, they had a disproportionate influence on the Senate, and they mistreated the people they ruled over, it was all true. Even so, he hoped desperately to never have to fight another war in his lifetime. At the end of the day, Dooku had a point.
If the Courts, the regulatory bureaus, the Senate and even the Jedi were unable to halt the growth of the Federation, what choice did people have but to take up arms and fight? And here he was, his job not to solve the problem, but keep it quiet for a few more years at best?
Not for the first time he wondered what his life would have been if Satine had asked him to stay by her side all those years ago?
Obi-Wan sighed, and chewed on his cereal. The dried grains and blue electrolyte milk weren't an ideal breakfast, but with both him and Anakin late to the table, they needed something to fill their stomachs quickly. His Padawan was battling restlessness as they ate, struggling to keep his eyes open, while Obi-Wan got caught in a lengthy conversation with Yoda and Mace.
Sitting there across from his Padawan, Obi-Wan's enjoyment of quiet breakfast with a hot cup of cafstim was suddenly interrupted by the appearance of an unusually small Jedi sliding into the chair across from him with a glum expression.
It took Obi-Wan a moment to recognize Jedi Knight Prialla. He never knew her personally, she'd been a few years above his creche as a youngling on Coruscant, but he had heard of her joining Dooku on Indinoor almost immediately after her knighting. All these years later, he'd almost forgotten that she was here, but he remembered her distinctively small silhouette.