Chapter Text
The transport ship rattled below Robin, but even the sudden movement didn’t make her flinch. Her hands were clenched, the knuckles white from the tension slowly building beneath her muscles as she waited… and waited.
For the first time in days, Robin had been escorted out of her room, tired, weak, and anxious. As she walked, she tried to count the number of days since her capture. Had it been a week? Two? A month? It was unclear. Her mind had felt foggy, unable to form any logical thought. She’d ignored the endless corridors and echoing chambers as she walked, barely aware of the droids leading the way, their lithe bodies quiet despite their metal footsteps.
When they arrived at a spacious hangar, a modest-sized transport ship was waiting. As Robin’s eyes lifted, her whole body flinched when she made eye contact with the looming figure at the entrance. Yellow eyes stared down coldly at her, the only visible clue that this creature was no droid. Clawed hands were folded behind his back, outlined by the blood-red inside of his cloak.
“General Grievous, sir,” the lead droid saluted. “The asset, as ordered.”
Grievous gave Robin one last look before he turned, his cloak sweeping the metal as he entered the ship. She faltered, dread shooting through every nerve in her body as a million thoughts raced through her. Where were they going? Another ship? A new planet? A metal hand pushed her forward, neither gentle nor rough, but clearly gave her no choice.
Then, she was left in her own thoughts, the droids her only company since the General had stayed in the cockpit. The silence was only disturbed by clicks, beeps, and an occasional lurch from the ship, but the droids stayed unnaturally still.
What was the General planning? All she knew was they had made it to “charted” space, which to Robin only meant her power wasn’t needed anymore. At least, for now. So, what else could Grievous be planning? She sighed as the ship rumbled beneath her.
Gathering her wits, she turned to a droid, trying to ignore the large blaster in its hand, “Um…excuse me, droid? Can you tell me where we are going?”
The droid didn’t even turn its head. But its deep voice answered coldly, “I am not permitted to answer any questions from the asset.”
Giving up, Robin scowled, the silence overtaking the hold once again.
Reaching inside her pocket, her fingers brushed against the cool surface of her mother’s crystal necklace. It was the only thing they hadn’t taken, and yet, it didn’t offer much comfort.
A loud thud shook the ship, and she glanced up, removing her hand quickly from her pocket while watching the droids. The machines stirred just as the door to the cockpit whooshed open, and Robin locked eyes with Grievous’s reptilian ones.
“Get up,” he barked. “Time to go.”
Slowly, shakily, she stood. A spark of defiance made her fists clench as she asked, “Go where, exactly?”
Grievous didn’t answer, clunking past her with metal arms clasped behind his back. The droids formed up behind him while nudging Robin to follow, and she reluctantly walked forward. Hissing filled the ship as the doors opened, and immediately Robin held up a hand to block the sudden light. Blood roared in her ears, and her heart began to beat faster. There was no need for a command. Robin walked forward, the sunlight blinding her for a moment more before her eyes adjusted. She was unable to hold back a gasp as she caught her first glimpse of a brand-new planet.
Ahead, a tower speared the sky, stark and alien. Cylindrical in shape, it loomed with a single stained-glass window near its crown, like an unblinking eye fixed on the newcomers. Smaller spires clustered around the main tower, sharp but refined.
Her eyes wandered, feeling a sense of excitement for the first time as she took in the surroundings. Trees with leaves of purple and blue lined the edges of the walkway, clipped to perfection, not a stray branch or leaf in sight.
You’d never see a tree like that back on Earth, she thought, turning her attention back to the looming castle. Surely this place was not Grievous’s home; it felt too…pristine to belong to him. As if in response to her thoughts, Grievous’s metallic voice broke through the calm.
“You will not speak unless spoken to. The man you are about to meet does not suffer fools,” he said, his heavy footsteps ringing against the stone. Despite being several steps ahead, there was no mistaking that he was speaking to her. “If you value your life, then hold your tongue.”
Then his head tilted just enough for her to see one burning eye, “But by all means,” he added coldly. “Speak your mind. Say the wrong thing, and you will spare me the inconvenience of dealing with you.”
Robin’s heart pounded, thinking about what Grievous’s words meant. He was taking her to someone who even the cyborg took orders from. That meant…she shivered. This man was the one responsible for her kidnapping.
Her hand twitched, but before she could stop herself, she muttered, “Hard to see anyone being less pleasant than you.”
He stopped, the whole party pausing alongside the cyborg. She stiffened, and her fists clenched as the General faced her fully, his shadow falling over her as he loomed. His eyes glowed with heat as he hissed, “This is not a game. I have tolerated your insolence. He will not.”
Robin stared up at him, refusing to break eye contact even as her hands shook. Grievous growled, continuing towards the castle. This time, Robin didn’t wait for the droid to push her forward.
She couldn’t stop the sudden fear that shot through her, cold and unwelcoming. But there was no stopping, no turning back. Robin would have to face this man, whether she was ready or not.
That’s right. Keep your head high, a voice seemed to encourage in her mind. The group neared the base of the looming tower, the entrance almost hidden in the shadows as stairs led downwards. Despite her exhaustion, she pushed forward, wondering briefly if this would be the last bit of sunlight she would see.
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Robin felt cold, the sensation penetrating deeper than just a temperature change. Her tiny spark of defiance fizzled out, leaving only an empty hole of hopelessness. She shook her head, confused as the feeling persisted, increasing in strength with each passing step. She barely registered the room slowly opening, but as she looked up, two pairs of glowing red eyes caught her attention.
Startled, Robin realized two unfamiliar droids guarded the entrance to a spacious chamber. Broad-shouldered and tall, the machines were almost twice her height and were more human-like than any of the other droids. Though they had no life of their own, Robin could almost sense their calculating coldness. General Grievous neared them, and without a word, they stepped aside, allowing the group to pass. She resisted the urge to shiver as their glowing eyes locked onto her’s as she walked by.
A variety of droids guarded the room, spaced evenly out on the left and right. A sickly, green light saturated the whole area, turning Grievous and the droids’ figures into ghastly forms. The color almost seemed to have a psychological effect, churning her insides and making her head spin.
Great. Just what I need, she thought as she did her best to keep her breath steady as the cold continued to seep into her skin. Grievous halted, causing the droids and Robin to stop. Glancing upwards, she saw a giant window, an intricate design engraved into the tinted green glass; it cast a shadow onto the ground, beautiful and delicate.
It’s pretty, like the rest of this place, Robin thought, recalling the entrance. But it’s odd. Not at all what I expected from a dangerous individual like Grievous had warned.
Hoping to catch a glimpse of this man, she tried to peer past the General’s hulking form, but a droid prodded her with the barrel of its weapon, commanding in a garbled voice, “Kneel.”
Robin didn’t move, her blue eyes narrowing, but complied a moment later as the droid raised the weapon higher.
Grievous’s metallic voice rumbled through the chamber. “My Lord. As ordered, I have delivered the child to you. Alive.”
Barely, she thought, biting back a scoff. Her bruises were fading, but the memory of the long, draining hours on the command bridge still pressed against her, as heavy as the day they ended.
“Very good, General,” the reply was aged and calm, but carried a weight of authority that filled the room. “Bring her forward.”
The droids shifted, their formation parting. Robin glanced up warily to find Grievous’s burning eyes fixed on her, his skull-like face swallowed in shadow.
“Well?” he growled.
Slowly, she forced herself upright on shaky legs, edging past the looming cyborg. Her heart hammered as she stepped into the open, her eyes finally landing on the man who had ordered her stolen from her world.
He was an older man, dressed in a dark tunic and cloak, his silhouette dignified, despite his age. His white hair and beard were trimmed perfectly, not a single hair out of place. Something silvery glinted in the green light, and Robin noticed a cylindrical object clipped to his belt. The design was both beautiful and deadly, like a venomous snake.
Gathering her courage, her eyes met his. They were dark, devoid of any light, and yet when the man smiled, the cold she’d been feeling seemed to suddenly extinguish. Without realizing it, she took a deep breath, relieved to feel warmth at last.
The man opened his arms with practiced elegance. “Welcome to Serenno. I am Count Dooku, master of this house. At last, we meet.” His voice was smooth, almost warm, but the weight of authority beneath was unmistakable
He stepped closer, extending a hand. Robin hesitated for a moment before clasping it. His grip was firm, and she tried to match it despite her trembling fingers.
But she kept her gaze locked on his face as she said, “Robin Gray.” She was proud that her voice kept steady.
Count Dooku’s eyes sharpened with a flicker of interest, as though confirming something he had already been told, “So, the girl who endured General Grievous’s company and yet still stands.” His lips curved faintly, neither mocking nor kind. He released her hand, a nod accompanying the gesture. “Your resolve is…noteworthy.”
Robin’s hand twitched at her side. “You could say that,” she muttered, the edge in her tone dulled by fatigue but still present.
Rather than bristle, Dooku looked faintly amused, as though her spark only affirmed his expectations.
“I imagine you have many questions, Miss Gray. Rest assured, you are quite safe here. We will speak properly once you have recovered your strength.”
With a snap of his fingers, two droids stepped forward at once.
“See that Miss Gray is escorted to her quarters,” he instructed smoothly. “Ensure she has what she requires.”
“Yes, my Lord,” one replied, gesturing to Robin to follow. Taken aback, she automatically followed, dazed as a flurry of emotions bombarded her. Quickly, she looked behind her to regard the Count and the General. One, the cause of so much distress and fear; the other, calm and polite. What had Grievous said? That Dooku had no patience for fools? Surely it had been an exaggeration to scare her?
She turned back, following the droids and deciding that she could think about it later. Right now, the thing she needed most wasn’t answers, but a long nap.
Grievous
There was complete silence as the child left, both Dooku and Grievous refused to speak until they were once again alone in the chamber. When it was clear that she was out of earshot, Grievous turned to the old man, squinting suspiciously at him. What game was he playing?
“You were…kind to the child,” Grievous observed, wanting to ask the obvious question but wanting Count Dooku to elaborate himself.
“Yes,” Dooku said simply, turning away to stare up at the stained-glass window.
Grievous felt a stab of irritation, but he suppressed a growl. “Why?”
The fallen Jedi said nothing for a moment, but he turned the Droid General, his own eyes flashing with impatience.
“I know your temperament, General. Think for a moment. She has been ripped from her home, starved, and deprived of sleep for weeks. Thrown into a galaxy she cannot even comprehend. How would you react to such treatment?”
Grievous gave a sharp, metallic laugh. “Strength. I would not be mewling like some helpless youngling if that is your implication.”
Dooku’s lips curved, humorless. “Indeed. But she is not you. And if she sees only an enemy in us, then she is lost to us entirely.”
The Droid General said nothing. But then, he growled in irritation as he admitted, “She would be useless. The child is weak and stubborn but would be a liability.”
He turned to glance in the direction she had gone before turning back to Dooku, “It would be better to dispose of the girl than indulge such weakness.”
Count Dooku nodded slowly. “If we gain her trust, we may guide her…subtly. She knows nothing of the Republic, the Jedi, or this war. A blank slate, General. And if the…company during her captivity has unsettled her, as I suspect, then her mind is already in turmoil. She is primed to be molded into a valuable, loyal pawn.”
Grievous released a low, guttural rumble, metal fingers clenching into a fist. He did not bother to argue. Let Dooku play his games of words and minds; shaping children was beneath him. What mattered was that she would not hinder his campaigns.
Dooku suddenly extended a hand, “The girl’s dagger, General.”
It took only a heartbeat for Grievous to understand. He reached into his cloak and produced the blade, handing it to Dooku. Dooku unsheathed it slowly, the metal catching the chamber’s pale light until it seemed to glow. A spark of interest flickered in his dark eyes.
“You have done well, General. This may help answer certain questions about the girl’s origins.”
Grievous inclined his head, a faint ripple of satisfaction running through him at the rare praise. “Do I have your leave, My Lord? I have been absent too long. The war calls me back to the front.”
Raising a dark eyebrow, the Sith studied Grievous, giving no reply for several seconds before agreeing, “Very well. You are dismissed, General. I will summon you when you are needed.”
Grievous bowed slightly, then clanked towards the exit. His guards fell in behind him, their metal footsteps once again echoing in the room. Relief surged in him at the thought of leaving this insufferable mission behind and returning to the battlefield where his purpose was clear.
And yet…
I will summon you when needed.
The words echoed in his mind, sparking an unwelcome doubt. Surely the Count meant only military matters? Grievous’s fingers curled, his stride stiffening. He shook his head, grinding down the thought until it was gone.
The matter was settled. The girl was Dooku’s concern now. And Grievous was more than pleased he would not be seeing the fragile little human again.