[The following memory plays. It's a recent memory-- very recent. All the imagery, all the thoughts and feelings Ahsoka had on that day, they're still sharp and fresh as the day they happened.
You stand on trial before the Jedi Council, accused of murder, terrorism, treason and sedition. You know you're innocent. You know you're being set up. But nobody other than Anakin believes you, and the evidence is overwhelmingly against you. And yet... this isn't the trial to determine your innocence or guilt.
No, this is something else. This is the Jedi Council, deciding that you're guilty before the official trial has even begun, and casting you aside. This is the Council deciding that politics are more important than their Code. They would rather bend to the whim of the Senate and be seen washing their hands of you than to stand by you as you claim your innocence time and time again. It isn't fair. Why does nobody believe you?
You can only feel unending despair as Master Yoda proclaims the verdict, and Anakin's anger as he rages at the Council. But even as they rip your padawan braid off your head, you can't even find your own rage anymore. You're long past that. All you feel now is a hollow emptiness, and a desperate struggle not to cry rising from your stomach. You've haven't cried since you were a child. And you're not a child any more. You never cried even when you were marching into the front lines of a war at fourteen, when General Grievous was choking you to death, when you were shot multiple times, when you were kidnapped by hunters, when you saw your friends die in front of you because of decisions you made...
No. You didn't cry then and you won't cry now.
But you fought so valiantly for so long. You were so loyal. You believed in everything they told you. So how could they believe you capable of such atrocities? That's what hurts the most. The Jedi Temple is your home, the Order is your way of life. It's all you've ever known since the age of three. It was... your family. The one thing you stood for, that you would stand by, no matter what.
And now it's thrown you to the wolves. And the craziest thing is? You still don't hate them.]
no subject
You stand on trial before the Jedi Council, accused of murder, terrorism, treason and sedition. You know you're innocent. You know you're being set up. But nobody other than Anakin believes you, and the evidence is overwhelmingly against you. And yet... this isn't the trial to determine your innocence or guilt.
No, this is something else. This is the Jedi Council, deciding that you're guilty before the official trial has even begun, and casting you aside. This is the Council deciding that politics are more important than their Code. They would rather bend to the whim of the Senate and be seen washing their hands of you than to stand by you as you claim your innocence time and time again. It isn't fair. Why does nobody believe you?
You can only feel unending despair as Master Yoda proclaims the verdict, and Anakin's anger as he rages at the Council. But even as they rip your padawan braid off your head, you can't even find your own rage anymore. You're long past that. All you feel now is a hollow emptiness, and a desperate struggle not to cry rising from your stomach. You've haven't cried since you were a child. And you're not a child any more. You never cried even when you were marching into the front lines of a war at fourteen, when General Grievous was choking you to death, when you were shot multiple times, when you were kidnapped by hunters, when you saw your friends die in front of you because of decisions you made...
No. You didn't cry then and you won't cry now.
But you fought so valiantly for so long. You were so loyal. You believed in everything they told you. So how could they believe you capable of such atrocities? That's what hurts the most. The Jedi Temple is your home, the Order is your way of life. It's all you've ever known since the age of three. It was... your family. The one thing you stood for, that you would stand by, no matter what.
And now it's thrown you to the wolves. And the craziest thing is? You still don't hate them.]