"It did."

"But that connection doesn't mean you can trust us. It's a bond, for better and worse – and you will always be connected to Plagueis, to your father, to your planet; the past can never leave you, because it is part of you, now."

"I can never abandon you, either, even if you turn away from me."

She looks away, taking a deep, shaking breath and squeezing her eyes shut.

Vader gives her space.

"...I want to be your apprentice. I don't know what that future will hold," and that's terrifying, "But I want to find out... Master."

There's a tiny catch in Vader's Force signature, something almost like pleased surprise. "I will rename you," she says – warns, almost. "You will swear a new oath to me."

She very promptly kneels at Vader's feet, and then discovers she likes that little flutter around her new Master. (A superior who can be properly flustered is a new treat.) "What would you have me swear?" Plagueis had demanded simply that she pledge that it was her will to join her destiny forever with the Order of the Sith Lords; a far more insulting oath than one of personal loyalty, in some ways.

"I'd like to see what you can think up."

Her mind goes immediately to the oaths between Houses, for some reason – including those sworn in the clan-marriage of a subordinate Matriarch to her House's new patron. "I swear to bind my House to yours," she says, "I swear that your enemy shall be my enemy; that your House shall be my House. I swear that whatever befalls you shall befall me; that wherever you guide me, I shall follow. If I turn back from this oath, may I be cast out; may my name be stricken from the annals of history; may my works become sand beneath the water."

Does she believe it? Maybe, maybe not. Does she like watching Vader's face as she says it? Absolutely. 

Vader is obligingly making quite a few faces! Still, she gets herself under control long enough to say, "I swear to bind my destiny to yours; to guide you with care and wisdom. I swear to support you should you falter; to lift you should you fall. I swear to oppose any who assault you; to aid any who assist you, for so long as you choose to walk beside me. If I turn back from this oath, may the Force take me in full; may I be forgotten."

"Rise and take your place beside me, Darth Fidela."

She stands as commanded. "What first, Master?"

"We begin your training in the Force properly... And we plan what to do with Plagueis."

Some time later, on a mostly-unremarkable Mid Rim planet, a Jedi padawan is on a mission. Specifically, a mission to the marketplace to get supplies for dinner. Elesse has many nice things to say about Master Breha. She's conscientious, diplomatic, an excellent duelist, has a surprisingly sly sense of humor and a frankly unexpected number of underworld contacts. But left to her own devices, she would consume nothing but prepackaged ration bars and plain water without even thinking twice. Which is, y'know, fine, that's a way for a person to be. But Jedi aren't actually forbidden from taking joy in life's little pleasures, so after about a week of living with Master Breha, Elesse signed up for a series of culinary electives at the Temple and has diligently continued her studies in that area for the past eight years. Ration bars are for emergencies, damn it, and she wants to eat real food even when they're out in the field.

Oh, and there's something about a locked-door-murder investigation, political instability, potential Black Sun involvement, et cetera, relating to why the Jedi are even on this planet in the first place. Elesse is on the lookout for certain characters, practicing keeping her mind open to the ebbs and flows of the Living Force as she walks. But business is business, and food is food. So yeah. Marketplace.

It's probably fortunate that she's keeping her mind open to the Force, since that means she feels a sudden darkening, a violent turbulence, approximately fifteen seconds before the first shouts of alarm from the other end of the long outdoor market. The predawn crowds and restaurant shoppers have left, and the tourists and late sleepers mostly haven't woken up yet, but there's still enough people she can't immediately see what's going on.

Ah, hell. She starts hurrying in that direction.

"Excuse me- Pardon me- Jedi business, thank you-" Please just be a fistfight, it is too early in the morning for blasters.

The good news: it isn't blasters!

The bad news: it's lightsabers; red ones, to be exact.

As Elesse finally breaks through, girl in generic dark robes with her face covered by what might be a scarf parries a heavy-handed blow by a tall figure in conspicuously menacing black clothes, then as he overcommits and stumbles she turns to run – further into the open street. There's already some light debris, and people are doing their damned best to start a stampede away from the fight.

She takes it back, this is worse.

Okay, enough panic. Mental ping to Master Breha. Then project calm, get to the front of the incipient riot, intercept the rogues' path. Her own amber saber out in a guard position. "Remain calm, evacuate in an orderly fashion," orders to the crowd in a loud, confident voice.

The taller of the darksiders turns to her, snarls, "Jedi," and takes an almost idle swing with his rather excessive lightsaber pike – it has a single long red blade attached to a long shaft with a short metal blade at the other end, likely cortosis – but he's fast, and the blow's clearly powerful – and with how wide an arc he's got, there's a couple people plausibly still in the danger zone.

Remember how she said Breha was an excellent duelist? She also has an interest in obscure and unusual weapons. So Elesse has sparred against spears before. She intercepts the swing on the plasma blade, which is not great for her in terms of leverage, but shorting out her own saber trying to get the haft would be worse and you'd have to be an idiot to be swinging something that long around if it could just be cut in half so she's not going to take the chance.

Then what she needs to is get inside his reach, but not in a way that lets him threaten the civilians who still haven't, argh- "Leave now," she- doesn't snap, says firmly. Now if she can maintain the blade lock and the other one (whyyyy are there two) cares more about stabbing this one in the back than getting away or starting a massacre of their own-

The other one does, in fact, turn quietly on her heel and lunge for her enemy's briefly unprotected back – and when he tries to disengage from Elesse, she goes low, blade flicking out for his underprotected calves, scoring a muffled yell before the sweep of the back half of his pike forces her to roll out of the way.

Okay. Okay. Reposition to better ward the stragglers while they're distracted. Then- she can't actually let them kill each other either, right, that sounds wrong. So... delay, distract, open negotiations.

"My name is Elesse Vendar, of the Jedi Order. Drop your weapons and surrender."

The tall one tries to say something surely witty and dismissive, interrupted by the shorter one totally ignoring Elesse and going for his side before darting back out of melee; the tall darksider turns his back on Elesse briefly, tries to swipe at the girl darksider, but she's retreating again – this time at least away from stragglers.

...It's a bit difficult to tell, but the girl actually probably had an opening for a fatal blow there, which she seems to have disregarded in favor of trying to maim her opponent again. (He's slowing down, at least, favoring one of his legs.)

That's... strange. That's makes this easier? Maybe? Still need to protect the civilians but also don't need to directly intervene to prevent a murder. She will hold her position but also launch some of the loose bricks at the pair, mostly concentrated on the taller one.

She might need to intervene to protect the girl, who gets significantly more aggressive – takes bigger risks – just as Elesse gets the sense her Master is rapidly approaching. The taller darksider is doing his level best to cut the girl in half.