Under revisions & rewrites
Book 1
" My only order to you is to not follow orders "
Dakota Ky. General of the 501st, Jedi of the Galactic Republic. The Perfect Warrior.
~
The Clone War is in full force across the galaxy. Jedi Knights of the Galact...
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Dust danced in shafts of gentle orange light, providing just enough luminance for one to weave between the book cases. Shelves lined the walls, filled with ancient leather-bound texts and worn relics of Mandalore's blood-soaked past. The air smelled of iron, ash, and old vellum. A scent her nose had not known for a long time.
Dakota stood still, her hand resting on the edge of a stone pedestal. On it, a carving of a man. Crude and coarse, ever-watching. With high cheekbones and dagger-like eyes, like hers, he stared in an oblivion. Next to him lay an open book—black script scrawled by hand in a tongue that growled like thunder when spoken aloud. It was the old creed, unsanitized, untouched by Republic translation. Mando'a.
She traced the edge of a line with her fingers, not reading so much as remembering. Her breath hitched as her nail drifted across the parchment. The words weren't just words. They were his voice. His words that echoed as he watched her from the pedestal
"You do not beg. You do not bow. You strike first, and you strike to kill."
The sentence wasn't written exactly like that, but it was what she heard. In his voice. Her father's gravel-thick tone, every syllable lacquered in blood and harsh expectation.
"Victory is its own virtue. Mercy is weakness taught by the weak."
She could almost feel the weight of his hand on her shoulder again. Not comforting—commanding. Forcing.
"You are Mandalorian. That means something. It means you don't break. You don't flinch."
She swallowed and took a half-step back from the book, as if he was there in front of her. The room was quiet, but the words rang in her chest like a war drum. Her eyes fell shut. She hated how easily he came back here. How this place could resurrect him without effort. He was in the creeds. In the weapons mounted on the walls. In the ceremonial armor sealed behind glass.
"And I thought the Jedi Temple library was beautiful." Padmé admired, finding the Jedi there amongst the tomes and literature.
"I wouldn't call what these books have to offer beautiful." Dakota returned flatly, turning away from the statue that held its icy, stone stare on her. Padmé paused by a shelf, running her smooth fingers along the spines of history and science books.
"Did you sleep well?" The senator asked, tapping her finger to the carved nose of another nearby statue.
"Like a baby." She replied. Padmé was unconvinced, as expected.
"You weren't at dinner last night." She trailed closer, the gown gliding across the floor at her heels. "The Duchess and I waited for you, but you never showed."
