2.1k words

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Tragic

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(Y/n)'s POV
Many of the Jedi Generals were away at a meeting, and I had no idea what it was about. I wasn't informed. All I knew was that I, a mere low-life padawan, was not allowed to attend—at least, that's what Master Pong Krell told me.

Instead, he assigned me to cleaning duty himself. He was one of the few Generals present during the war, tasked with watching over the temple.

It seemed to have inflated his ego a bit; he acted as if he was more significant just because he was here, trusted with the Temple while Master Yoda and most of the council were gone. I had seen him treat the clones like they were beneath him, and us Padawans were not spared from that attitude either.

Today, I didn't feel like a padawan; I felt more like a servant—his servant to be exact.

As I finished vacuuming the hallway, Master Krell began to walk down it, his boots muddy from the temple gardens. "You missed a spot, padawan," he snapped close to my ear as he passed by, making me flinch. I was anxious he might hit me—again. It wasn't anything severe, just a light smack on the hand when I had grabbed the wrong vacuum, not knowing there was a right and wrong choice, they all looked the same. It was a small thing, but it still stung.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves as I glanced at the new patches of dirt he had created. They started off dark and large and with each step the spots had gotten smaller and lighter. I quickly moved the vacuum back over the area, my anger inside boiling just beneath the surface, but I couldn't let it out and lash like I wanted to. I just had to endure all of this until Anakin returned, which is hopefully soon.

As I went about my tasks, my mind wandered to the meeting the Jedi Generals were attending. What could be so crucial that they had left the Temple entirely? I had caught snippets of conversation among the other padawans about a new plan to change the course of the war, but no one had any real information.

"Pick up the pace, padawan," Krell snapped, pulling me from my thoughts. "The Temple won't clean itself."

I muttered something under my breath as I vacuumed a spot I had already cleaned. We had staff for chores like this, but I had learned that Krell was a man who thrived on power and control and would take advantage of it whenever he could—especially when no one was around.

I completed the hallway once more and let out a sigh of relief, only to find myself locking eyes with Krell. He held a glass that looked to be filled with blue milk. Without breaking our gaze, he took a slow sip, leaving half the glass untouched before tilting it and letting the liquid spill onto the carpet.

"Oops," he said, his voice dripping with mock innocence. "Looks like someone will have to clean that up too."  

I tightened my fists, struggling to hold back my words and not snap back at him. A part of me was indifferent to the idea of him hitting me or even throwing that cup my way; in fact, I almost wished he would, just to leave a mark—my Master would definitely not approve of that. But I chose not to provoke him; it would only lead to trouble for Anakin if he tried to defend my honor.

So, I knelt down and took a cloth from my cleaning kit, along with some carpet cleaner, and moved to the mess on the floor. He watched me closely as I worked, looking surprised at how compliant I was. "When you're done, switch with Tano. She's downstairs at the holding cells. Have her go to the kitchens, it needs a deep clean," he ordered before striding away.

I let out a sigh of relief, grateful that he was finally gone.

After I finished cleaning and the spot looked somewhat decent, I tossed the supplies into the bucket, grabbed the vacuum, and returned everything to the closet where I had found it. Then, I headed down to the holding cells.

This place was intended as a punishment for Jedi who went off course or broke the rules, though it wasn't used very often. I think the last person to be sent here was my Master after he stood up to that awful Master Windu on my behalf. But now that Ahsoka was down here on watch duty, it meant someone was locked up, and I was curious to find out who.

I quickly made my way to her, and when I arrived, she turned to me, relief washing over her face. "Finally! I was getting so bored down here. She doesn't move or say anything, just stares, and it's starting to freak me out." She pointed to the only cell that had an occupant.

I couldn't see her yet, but I would if I took a few more steps. I paused before doing so. "Don't get too excited just yet," I cautioned Ahsoka, and her face fell. "He wants you in the kitchens. Says it needs a thorough cleaning."

She groaned loudly, her frustration clear. "Ugh, and that's where Cal is too."

I furrowed my brows, confused. "What's wrong with that? I thought you liked Cal?"

She looked flustered, her words tumbling out. "Um, yeah, it's just—" She stumbled over her thoughts, making me raise my eyebrows in curiosity. "We had a fight and haven't spoken since." Her words came out fast and unconvincing.

I could tell she was not being honest; she was never good at lying. But I didn't push her. She would share the truth when she was ready. After all, I was keeping a big secret from her, so she had every right to her own secrets.

I smiled at her, reassuringly. "I'm sure you two will figure it out," I said, then turned my attention to the cell. "Do you know who's in there?"

She shook her head. "Not a clue. I've tried talking to her, asking her, but all she does is glare at me like she's ready to rip my head off." Ahsoka came closer, probably to hurry off to her next ridiculous assignment. "So, good luck with that," she said, giving my shoulder a light pat. "I'm off to Krell. I swear if he says anything stupid to me, I'll make sure Master Kenobi hears all about it and gives him an earful!" With that, she left, her voice echoing down the hall.

I chuckled softly to myself as I moved to the chair she had just vacated. It was positioned directly across from the cell, giving me a clear view inside. The door was made of metal and had a force lock, while the plexiglass to the right was large enough to let me see almost everything in the cell—except for the area where the toilet was, of course. The council can be unfair but at least they were decent with that idea.

I guessed this was where the prisoner was hiding, as I couldn't see her at first. But soon enough, she came into view, her eyes never meeting mine. She stared at the ground and started to pace back and forth. I noticed her biting her nails, and it struck me that I was doing the same thing. I quickly stopped, remembering how Anakin wished I would break that habit.

"What did you do to end up in this cell?" I asked, and she froze in place.

She turned her head to look at me, and I tilted mine, curious if she would respond. I wasn't sure if she would, since even Ahsoka had failed to get through to her, but I thought it was worth a shot.

Then, unexpectedly, she burst into laughter.

I frowned in confusion as she approached the glass, a bright smile lighting up her face. "This is—" she giggled, "Incredible, wow." With a sigh, she crossed her arms, her eyes scanning me from head to toe, "You're here, you beautiful woman."

I felt a wave of confusion wash over me. "Yeah," I replied, my voice slow and uncertain.

"What are the odds of that?" She burst into laughter again, clearly noticing my bewilderment. She waved her hands in front of her, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry—if you knew the whole story, you'd see why this is so hilarious right now."

"Know what?" I asked, rising to my feet.

Her laughter faded gradually, but her smile lingered as she leaned closer, resting her forehead against the glass while keeping her gaze locked on mine. It was a bit unsettling. "Why I'm here," she said softly, almost like a secret.

A thought began to form in my mind about her presence; she seemed a little off.

"They've got you on guard duty?" she inquired. "What's up with that? Aren't you (y/n), the Jedi padawan?"

"How do you—"

"Everyone knows Anakin Skywalker's padawan," she said, rolling her eyes playfully. "Duh. Now, tell me—not that I'm complaining—but what brings you down here?"

"Master Krell," I said, crossing my arms as I stepped closer to the glass. "He has us padawans doing light work while our Masters are away."

She paused for a moment, as if trying to recall something specific. "Krell, Krell, Krell," she repeated, tapping her chin dramatically. "I swear I've heard that name. Ah yes, now I remember." She looked down for a moment, then chuckled. "He doesn't treat you padawans very well, does he? You should mention it to your Master. I'm sure he'd have a nice talk with him to sort things out."

"I was already planning on that," I stepped closer to the glass and looked at the girl. She seemed young, maybe even as young as I was. As I got nearer, I noticed her eyes sparkling in the light of her room. They reminded me of my own, a gentle shade that matched her skin tone. "Why are you down here?" I asked again.

She raised her head. "Don't you think the way the Jedi operate is a bit...tragic?"

"What do you mean by that?"

"They take babies from their families, basically tearing them away. Have you ever thought about the pain those families must feel when a part of them is gone? They promise those mothers and fathers that their child is meant for something special," she waved her hands dramatically, "But the truth is, not every youngling becomes a Jedi. Some are deemed not good enough. They end up in the kitchens, the libraries, as cleaners or gardeners in the temple—they just fade away or die." Her last words were filled with bitterness.

"Where are you going with this?" I asked, both fascinated and puzzled.

She tilted her head slightly. "You wanted to know why I was here, didn't you?" She looked down for a moment before meeting my gaze again slowly. "I'm part of that unwanted group. I'm not good enough—I'm different, and they don't accept that."

I found myself speechless, unable to say anything except, "I'm sorry."

She gently shook her head, "You should never feel that way." Her hand rested on the glass, and perhaps it was just the light, but her eyes seemed to glisten with unshed tears. "Please, don't ever apologize, alright? You haven't done anything wrong." She looked at me and it was almost as if she held desperation in her eyes, like there was so much she wanted to say, so much she wanted to tell me—but can't, didn't, or won't.

Just like earlier that day, a wave of nausea washed over me. I had taken some medicine to ease the discomfort, but it was creeping back. I realized it was because my time of the month was approaching. I briefly placed my hand on my stomach when a cramp hit, and she noticed.

"Do you know what today's date is?" she asked, and I told her. But as soon as I spoke, the queasiness surged within me, and I couldn't keep it down. I turned away and vomited right on the floor. "That sounds about right."

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