There are few stories that are told among the Jedi Order long enough to become myth. Legend. It takes importance to stand the test of time that way. A lesson has to be learned.
Anakin and Circe's story is told for generations long after they are go...
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For the next few days, the Temple slowly returns to normal. Conversation comes back to the halls, the gardens are no longer empty and untouched, the Youngling classrooms bustle once more.
Circe stays in her room, remaining there for days as the Council sends messages to the families of the children who have been murdered. Anakin doesn't hear from her for nearly a week, the silence pressing down on him as death had pressed on the ship that day.
As the dull ache of sorrow fades, it is replaced by bitterness and anger. She remembers the Clones, the way Anakin had yelled at Kiger, how she had felt when Nej had told her their mission. Her resentment gives her strength, and finally when she cannot stand the enclosure of her bedroom, she ventures out to do something about it. On her march to the Council Chamber, the sound of a pair of young children squealing down the halls makes her cringe, her shoulders tense and raised.
Ahch-To is with her still.
But it doesn't matter. She is filled with something other than grief as she watches the Council's faces react to her tale. It is satisfaction, yet not true happiness. As she tells it, she notices the way she has stopped caring. The way it doesn't seem so important amymore. Anakin Skywalker asking the Lord Chancellor for his own set of Troopers. Wasting a set of soldiers on a fully trained Jedi. It does not fulfill her the way she thought it would when they send for him immediately.
"Have you gone mad, Skywalker?" Mace Windu asks, his eyes baring down on the curly-headed Jedi. "How could you have approached the Chancellor with this request?"
Anakin flushes, embarrassment warming his face. "Sir, it was precautionary," He answers, giving Circe a wounded expression.
She does not care. She stands with her arms crossed, watching him struggle to defend himself.
Obi-Wan sighs. "Windu, I don't think this conversation is necessary. It's been done. There's no changing what had happened."
"Master!" She argues.
"I don't think it's important anymore. We have more critical things to discuss."
She looks away angrily, catching Anakin's eye once more. There is an air between them. He looks ashamed and determined all at once. As though he's doing something that must be done, but he takes no pleasure in it.
"I disagree, and I think this Council would agree with me. Anakin, why did you think you could seek the Chancellor out in the first place?" Windu asks.
"I didn't! He came to me and offered his help."
Plo-Koon interjects. "What gave him the impression that you needed his help?"
Anakin catches Obi-Wan's eye, who looks back, sympathetic but silent.
"He had heard a conversation I was having," He answers reluctantly.
"A conversation about Circe being unfit to look after herself?"
