Tyranus Ascending (by T. Stark) || Anakin Skywalker Fanfiction

Chapter Eight

The streets of Coruscant were loud. Music blared from every bar and restaurant, and millions of people swarmed around with no clear purpose. The higher levels of the capital planet represented the life of the wealthy—those who lived in luxurious residential buildings and drank only the most expensive alcohol. They were like wild animals in a cage, entering for fun, not out of ignorance.

Varya liked to think she had gotten used to the nightlife of Coruscant, but she felt that sleeping at this hour was forbidden, as if she were breaking the law. She couldn't leave the windows open because of the noise from the starships. So, she was left to work during the few hours when the planet buzzed with activity.

Her datapad should have exploded by now. She had to address the many complaints from factory workers on Tyranus, a task Meike had rightfully delegated to her. After all, Varya had come up with the idea, and her mother had implemented the new laws.

The Tyranians were not pleased with Meike's decision and resented being under Republic law. Mostly, they feared the Jedi. Their hatred of the Order ran deep. Writing responses filled with promises that wouldn't come true was difficult, especially since Varya endured the guilt that gnawed at her.

Her head rested on one palm, and with the other, she wrote. She was out of ideas and began repeating sentences and entire paragraphs.

Her mind wandered to her meeting with the Jedi Council the next day. They would ask about her life on Tyranus and try to persuade her to grant them access to the Force-sensitive children on the planet, but she had to resist. Windu couldn't offer her anything in return for the sadness and loss their principles would cause.

Meike had warned Varya about their beliefs and the Code. Jedi were expected to suppress their emotions and never form attachments, which Varya believed was impossible. They aspired to create a world of peace, but how could knowledge and serenity replace passion? To feel was to live; to deny oneself that was to die. Falling into darkness was equally dangerous, leading to the destruction of everything around and leaving only chaos.

This was not a war between the Light and Dark Sides; it was a war between what felt right and wrong. Despite the lack of love Varya experienced, her mother embraced passion, anger, and happiness. She was taught that balance included both good and bad, not just good alone.

Her practices didn't align with those of the Jedi, and having her lightsaber taken away was the worst punishment. She promised herself she would always care for the small crystal hidden in the weapon, showing her mother that she was grateful.

Varya's eyelids began to close, but a sudden noise jolted her awake. She left the datapad on the table and went to the entrance, only to find a guard who had dropped his blaster. She returned to her bedroom, changed into her sleeping gown, and slipped into bed. The sheets were soft against her skin, and sleep claimed her as soon as her head hit the pillow.

The next morning, the music had stopped, and the starship buzz was lighter. From her bed, she watched the sun rise. She followed her routine and got dressed. The Jedi Temple wasn't far from the residential building, but the wait until she reached it felt unbearable. She left her lightsaber in the apartment, not wanting to draw attention to herself.

She was impressed by the enormous building and walked through the halls, guided by a droid.

Here, more muted colors replaced the luxurious red and purple of the Senate. The Temple was adorned in shades of brown, cream, and pale red for the carpets. She admired the architecture as well. She watched a group of younglings training with wooden sticks and another group following a young woman in Jedi robes.