Chapter Text
Lillian was growing faster than her siblings. And it was clear to Leah and Lyal that their youngest child was the quiet type. She barely cried, and when she did, it was not that loud. She looked around as if she were memorizing her surroundings just in case. She still hit her milestones, saying her first words (“papa”) and quickly established herself as the baby of the family. Mark pretty much doted on her and cut back on the drinking so he could be the fun uncle, while Kelram got a treat for Lillian every time he went out on patrols. Anibet and Minerva adopted the role of big sister equally, pretty much shadowing Lillian almost all day. Tomas did his best to make Lillian laugh with practical jokes, which only cemented the Anibet Roar of Impending Doom as the hallmark for his stupidity.
“I swear that little girl has Leah’s lungs,” Mark said one afternoon. “I was outside with Minnie when we heard it clear as day.”
And yet, Lyal couldn’t have asked for a more wonderful set of children. Somehow, they balanced each other out, with their own brand of chaos. Anibet had to be doing something and had a mean competitive streak, often sparring with Tomas and trying to “win” their duels. Tomas pretty much perfected the practical joke and snare trap, and he didn’t apologize for causing chaos. Lillian would laugh along with everything and just watch quietly, but she had her moments.
And sure enough, around her six-month mark, she started developing uncanny abilities with reading people. She could tell when Lyal was stressed and beg for cuddles. She could tell when Tomas needed a little encouragement and laughed at a bad joke. She even stared at Anibet when she was in a bad mood until Anibet relented and read her a story. She would toddle behind Minerva until she got cuddles from her, especially on days when her condition made her unable to go very far without help.
And around nine months, her shadows started manifesting. They would come and go, almost like ghosts, but Lyal would notice them. Leah noticed them as well and stepped in to teach Lilly how to channel her powers. Even Mark and Kelram noticed how easily she could calm emotions without saying a word. It didn’t stop them from spoiling her, but it made it odd that a baby could be this unnerving.
But Leah’s visions didn’t stop, and Lyal really started to worry. Yes, the measures they put in to provide for a possible conflict, with benefits for people already fleeing violence from smaller conflicts, were already kicking in. Construction was ahead of schedule, with more building projects on the way to improve housing programs for the homeless and unfortunate, and praise and gratitude flooded through to his inbox. Yet, his happiness at doing well by his people was tempered with worry for the future. What if this war really broke out? How could he enforce neutrality if things got really bad? Already, threats of secession were flooding the HoloNet, and he barely hid his anxiety. His oldest was barely nine, and Lillian was barely two years old. He didn’t want his youngest to be surrounded by conflict.
And yet, somehow, he knew that he had to act now before things were forced on him. On top of housing projects, he sourced things locally: food, building materials, even entertainment and the arts. He set up programs for families who needed some extra help, raised the basic wage for comfortable living, and made amendments to the law code to cover incursions and ensure justice for everyone. Leah’s insights helped significantly, and he could rely on her to point out if a decision would yield results.
And weeks before Lillian’s first birthday, his resolve was finally tested.
***
Leah was already in a puzzled mood when she walked into Lyal’s study, her datapad in hand. “Dear? We got a message.”
Lyal put down the finance report Kelram put together. “Who’s it from?”
“Count Dooku.”
He paused, a frown on his face. “I thought he had his own issues to handle on Serenno. What’s going on that he’s reaching out to us?”
“I don’t know.” Leah sighed. “I think we need to review this together.”
She took the other seat and pulled up the message. Instead of a simple text box, Count Dooku appeared, his hologram illuminating the scattered documents.
“Lyal Hawk and Leah Telman-Hawk,” Count Dooku started, “I wish to extend an invitation to both of you to come to my estate in Serenno. There are certain matters I would like to discuss with you in person. I believe this is a situation where we can help each other.” He paused. “Especially regarding your children.”
His hologram fizzled out, and they shared a worried glance. It sounded too much like a trap. Lyal had his own concerns. Yes, Dooku was a former Jedi, but it almost seemed too convenient for him to reach out to them. It was rumored he was making an alliance of systems, and he was negotiating terms for other leaders. If he wanted a hold on the Outer Rim, why did he seek them out instead of the Hutts? Was it because they were a system led by honorable people? Or was it because of Leah’s past?
“I think we should hear him out,” Leah said. “It…it doesn’t feel like a trap.”
“Still, he has an interest in the children,” Lyal said. “It doesn’t sound like it’s completely selfless interest. Nobility like him have a way of looking out for themselves. Perhaps he wants something from us.”
“And if it turns out to be too much?” Leah took his hand. “Lyal, I think we should go just to hear what he has to say. He’s too much of a political figure now to try and use violence. It would go against his image, and you and I are well known enough to ensure he wouldn’t make any move to jeopardize his standing with his new allies. And even I can tell when it’s time to start setting some heavy boundaries.”
Lyal looked at the reports again. Too many systems had been bending to Dooku’s will, joining his alliance without delay, stating their grievances against the Republic. Lyal had his own dislike of the Republic, but after numerous debates and independent research, he had no love for this new alliance system. Other systems were going neutral, setting up trade routes with them and pledging their support should things go wrong.
Maybe it was worth hearing out Dooku’s proposal. But just that.
“Very well.” Lyal pulled up the message and sent back a response. “Count Dooku, Leah and I are coming. We will hear out what you want to say.”
And despite not being Force-sensitive, Lyal sensed that this was a meeting that he wouldn’t soon forget.
***
Three days later, Leah and Lyal were on their way to Serenno. Obi-Wan and Anakin came to watch the children, having a break from a recent diplomatic mission, quickly going from Jedi master and padawan to uncle and cousin when they saw Lillian. Lyal was comfortable with the duo, but he didn’t think he could keep calling on them. It certainly irked select members of the Jedi Council, especially Ki-Adi-Mundi, and even Grandmaster Yoda seemed to think it was too much.
But that was a problem for another day.
The shuttle Count Dooku provided made its way into the Serenno atmosphere, heading towards an isolated palace. Count Dooku’s family had been an odd bunch, according to Father, but Lyal could see the perks of an isolated place. It promised safety and peace, no matter how fragile it was. But still, there was an eerie sense about the place, like something had tainted it. Either way, it was not his place to judge.
The shuttle landed, and Lyal and Leah followed the protocol droid down the ramp. Count Dooku had a pleasant smile on his face, with a few Twi’lek attendants taking their jackets and bowing in respect.
“Welcome,” Count Dooku said. “I’m glad you could make it so quickly.”
“We figured it was worth handling sooner rather than later,” Lyal said. “Thank you for your kindness, Count.”
“Please, call me Dooku.” He turned to Leah. “And Leah, it is so good to see you outside the halls of the Jedi Temple. I’ve heard quite the story about you.”
“I’m sure you have,” Leah said warmly. “I see you’re doing well for yourself.”
“I am. It’s been…refreshing to be away from such restrictive surroundings.” His smile faltered. “I do wish Qui-Gon was still alive, though. He would have liked this place. And he did speak highly of you. I would dare to think that he saw you like a daughter.”
Leah’s smile tightened. “Yes, I would think so, too.”
“Come inside,” Count Dooku said, gesturing down the path. “I did promise a private audience.” He turned to the attendants. “Put their coats in the entrance and tell the kitchens to send up biscuits and tea. The Mandalorian kind of tea.”
Lyal was almost impressed. Count Dooku was pulling all the stops: a private shuttle, tea, even a warm greeting like he was a grandson rather than a visiting governor. It was like he really wanted to make a good first impression.
They walked into Count Dooku’s study, where a plate of fresh biscuits and tea sat on the desk. Count Dooku’s protocol droid poured the drinks while they settled into their seats.
“Now,” Count Dooku said, “as much as I would like this to be a pleasant conversation, there are concerning developments.”
“You mean the rumors of secession,” Leah said. “We’re aware. We’ve been preparing for the likely outcome of war.”
The count arched an eyebrow. “You’ve put your visions to good use. Yes, there are considerations of secession. And I’m sure you’ve heard that I’ve been gathering a group of systems tired of the Republic’s corruption. Given how hard leadership can be, I would like to propose an alliance between your system and Serenno. You would have equal say in this alliance, and your children would have access to a former Jedi master to teach them.”
“That’s kind of you,” Lyal said, “but I’ve been managing quite well. I have a system that works for all of Talgat, and our children are learning from their mother.”
Leah frowned. “This seems…almost planned. Did you leave the Order for this?”
He shook his head. “No, dear Leah. Qui-Gon’s death was…too much for me. I saw how the Jedi wrote off his killer as dead. And…I heard how they only considered helping you when it was your eldest daughter—Anibet, I believe—who was in this killer’s crosshairs.”
Leah tensed, and Lyal squeezed her hand. Despite the years putting space between that battle and their current state, Lyal hadn’t forgotten the devil that threatened their daughter. A body had never been found, and everyone thought that was the last Sith, the master who was apparently in shadow. If Count Dooku was more willing to help them, it seemed too good to pass up.
But Lyal knew better than to take something at face value. “It is true,” he said warily, “that the Jedi Order was only willing to step in when Qui-Gon spoke for us. I’m still grateful he did, even if he never met Anibet.”
“And even then,” Leah added, “entering an alliance like this may put our family at risk. We’ve had threats before, and…to be openly allied with you might invite more trouble.”
The count’s smile turned almost falsely paternal. “That is a valid concern. And I would personally ensure that your children and other family members would be protected should anything come to harm them. Not to mention there are some things Qui-Gon never got the chance to teach you, Leah. I could teach them what I know of the Force, and I’m not tied to the Order anymore, which means there would be no risk of Ki-Adi-Mundi trying to get his hands on any of your children.”
Lyal sighed. “It’s not that I’m worried about. We’ve made our stance clear about our children and their abilities many times over, I assure you. As for their safety, we’ve learned from our past errors and ensured proper security. I assure you, it’s a matter of honor and pride rather than practicality.”
“And yet, the Rackpocks are still a problem, I take it?”
Lyal tensed. “That is a private matter. We’ve managed to whittle the group down to a small number, and there’s been discontent within the group. I don’t doubt that their days are numbered. And besides, that’s a local issue.”
The count looked slightly amused. “Perhaps. But that local issue has already made threats against you and your children. And they haven’t forgotten your wife’s involvement all those years ago on a pathetic excuse of a final trial. I could arrange for…an accident to claim the leader’s life.”
“We don’t promote assassinations, Count,” Leah said.
“And as tempting as that is, it would be seen as a cheap shot,” Lyal added. “I would rather handle them without outside intervention.”
The count seemed disappointed but nodded. “I see. I will not press the issue further. It’s clear you’ve made up your mind.” He cleared his throat. “However, you must not forget that not only are your children Force-sensitive and powerfully so—and dare I say it, even more powerful than Anakin Skywalker in some ways—but they are also unregistered, free agents. And your family has been targeted by the same assassin that killed my former student. There could be other…threats that seek to claim them or silence them. My offer to teach them still stands.”
“Don’t worry about that, Count Dooku,” Lyal said. “My wife is teaching them. Obi-Wan and Anakin teach them, too, though I think Anakin acts more like an older brother than a guest. And frankly, they are also Mandalorian and the children of an elected governor. Trust me, many will think twice before they approach them in harm.”
“That is a good approach,” the count said carefully, as if he didn’t want to offend them. “But I would reconsider. There may be a time where you don’t have easy access to Kenobi or Skywalker. Where you might find yourself short. And when that day comes, my frequency is always available.” He stood. “Oh, and a parting gift. No strings attached.” His protocol droid put a box on the table, next to the now empty plate of biscuits and empty teapot and teacups. “For your older children. They are approaching the right age for this, I believe.”
Leah opened the box. Set against soft red velvet were enough components for two lightsabers, polished and sparkling. Construction manuals were included, with each piece labeled.
“That’s…very generous,” Leah said.
“Nothing but the best for future prodigies,” Count Dooku said. “Even if I never get the chance to teach them, it’s a worthy contribution. Had Qui-Gon and I been closer, perhaps I would have donated this to Obi-Wan. Better to donate these pieces now. Besides, it’s a headstart.”
“And the training saber?” Lyal asked.
“For your youngest. When she’s able to handle it without getting a bruise.” He gestured to a second box the protocol droid brought in. “And this is for your niece. A specialized vibroblade made to accommodate her shortcomings. Easy to wield, doesn’t take up much space, and very light.”
“How considerate,” Lyal said. “You really did your homework on us.”
Count Dooku’s smile tightened. “Better to be informed and aware than to be caught off-guard.” He gestured to the protocol droid. “Let me see you off. My droid here will make sure you get home safely. And…I hope you reconsider my offer. For your children’s sake.”
As they left the manor, Lyal couldn’t help but wonder why Count Dooku would go this far to try and get them in his alliance. He certainly hadn’t been this insistent on a personal meeting. And the gifts were perfectly tailored to each child and their needs. It was like he knew something was coming and was arming them just in case.
“If Maul came back,” Leah started once they were in hyperspace, “could you fight him off?”
Lyal paused. “Maybe. I’m not as young as I once was. But, if it came down to that to protect my family, I would.”
Leah kissed his cheek. “I know. Which is why I love you.”
Lyal thought over Dooku’s offer for the rest of the trip back. His decision to remain neutral was still strong, but the count’s words still echoed in his head.