Star Wars: Passion of the Sith

Chapter 4

As the days dragged on, I became more and more disillusioned with the Jedi. I had learned, to my dismay, that Quinn's trial had been spread all over. It was on every screen, on everyone's lips, in every conversation. I hated it.

I hated Master Windu's derisive questioning of Quinn, who answered in broken tears.

I hated Master Yoda's silence. Surely, as the Grand Master of all Jedi, he could see she was innocent of treason and of being a Sith! But he remained silent.

I hated Master Kenobi's presence. Every time her trial began, he was there, his arms crossed. Silent. Menacing.

I hated it all.

Anakin had tried to fly off with Senator Amidala, but both of them had been detained. The Senator had been stripped of her title temporarily, ad Anakin was now under full discipline from the Council. The only pleasure I took in the whole nightware was that I was to be the one disciplining and training Anakin now. He had always trained me, and now I trained him.

I would pay him back for every insult he had given me since he had returned from the Outer Rims. But I kept this thought hidden from the Council.

Another thing I kept from the Council was my deep pain at Quinn's trial and upcoming execution. No one, not even Quinn herself, knew how deeply my heart ached for her. 

I opened the door to the special cell where Anakin was being kept, putting on a stony mask. I would see him again for the first time in days. Under order of the Council, he had been without food or water for 3 days. In my hand was a tray with some bread sticks on it.

Anakin was sitting with his back towards me. His posture indicated dejection, possibly depression, and despite my anger towards him, I felt my heart soften at the sight of him.

"Anakin," I said softly.

He turned around, and in his eyes I saw a brief echo of the deep sadness now within my heart before his eyes hardened to steel. But he didn't say anything. The previous three days had broken his spirit, and I found myself repenting of my desire to get revenge.

"I've brought you food," I continued, shutting the door. I brought the tray over to him and sat down beside him. "Eat."

"I'm not hungry," he said faintly.

"And I don't care," I replied. "It wasn't my idea to starve you, but now you need to eat." I pushed one of the bread sticks into his hands.

He looked down at it, and then crumpled it into crumbs. "I'm not hungry," he repeated.

I stood up and began pacing the room. "You think you're the only one who's facing loss right now? Get over yourself, Anakin. Look around you. Everywhere people are grieving. And simply because yours was a forbidden love does not give you precedence over anyone else," I chastised him. 

"What do you care, Zenila?"

I stopped and looked at him. "I care because of that little 9-year-old boy who accepted my friendship from the beginning. I care because of that 14-year-old boy who protected and supported me when it turned out my abilities were those of a Sith's. You may be a jerk now, but I can't forget our good times together, and that's why I came."

There was silence for a while. Then Anakin began to cry softly. "I've been having nightmares," he said between sobs. "My mother is dying."

"If you had taken the Senator and left, you would only have made things worse. You would have slaughtered an entire tribe of Tusken Raiders, even the women and the children. You would have gotten yourself nearly killed in an arena, as well as the Senator and Master Kenobi," I said.