Star Wars - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Prophet, Thing of Evil ❯ The Rare and Radient Maiden ( Chapter 3 )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: Yimmy 
When love is not enough...
Non Anime: Star Wars - Series Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama / Action | Type: Shoujo-ai | Uploaded On: 04.21.2006 | Pages: 4 | Words: 4.3K | Visits: 195 | Status: Completed
When love is not enough...
Non Anime: Star Wars - Series Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama / Action | Type: Shoujo-ai | Uploaded On: 04.21.2006 | Pages: 4 | Words: 4.3K | Visits: 195 | Status: Completed
Chapter 3: The Rare and Radiant Maiden
This wasn’t good. This was very, extremely, enormously bad.
See, the Republic liked the Jedi (mostly) and the Jedi liked the Republic (mostly), and every so often, they’d have a small get-together to spread the good feelings around. Senator So-and-So, meet Master What’s-His-Face. Master Whozzat, meet Royal Pain-in-the-Butt. Whether on a planet or in space, people always made a grand production of it. This time, the Republic just completed a new luxury cruiser and wanted to show it off to their Jedi friends.
Enter Master Vrook, Padawan Bastila, newly minted Jedi Knights Revan and Malak, and an entourage of other Jedi folk. Between fending off lecherous politicians and feasting on absolutely sinful food, Bastila had quite an interesting time. With everything going well, the promise of alone time with Revan only enhanced the evening.
Until the Sith showed up, en masse.
Wouldn’t you know it, the navigator turned out to be a Sith spy. Waiters? Sith troopers. Hidden in the cargo bay? Dark Jedi. Oh, and guess who reprogrammed all the droids? Wasn’t a Jedi, that’s for sure. Despite being deep in Republic territory, a few Sith ships managed to circle the luxury cruiser and pelt it with missiles.
What a way to ruin an evening. At least Master Vrook was more than up to the challenge to defend the ship.
“Captain, deploy the few defensive fighters you have and send your security forces to deal with the troopers. Jedi Revan and Malak, make your way to control room in the lower decks and disable the rogue droids. Bastila, stay here in the bridge and aid us with your Battle Meditation. Extend your focus to the Republic ships too. The rest of Jedi, we will battle the Fallen.”
Revan flashed a comforting wink at Bastila before disappearing out the door. Master Vrook gave a few more words of encouragement before leaving via the elevator. That left Bastila alone on a chaotic bridge, people looking at the captain for guidance and the captain staring at the lone remaining Jedi.
“Well?” puffed Bastila, “What are all of you waiting for? You heard Master Vrook!”
That got them going. Bastila planted herself on a chair and proceeded to call upon her greatest ability. Uncertainty snaked through her--she’d never extended herself this much. A ship? Yes. Ten to twenty people? Of course. But to envelope this cruiser AND the fighters outside? Difficult, if not impossible.
Still, the Jedi needed her. The Republic needed her. Revan needed her and she would never fail Revan.
Minutes passed and the ship’s shuddering from missile hits lessened. Panicked cries for help over the radio became infrequent. Whispers of victory made its way through the ranks.
“The Jedi have saved us!”
“The Sith don’t stand a chance!”
“It’s a miracle! A miracle!”
Success! She helped turn the tide!
But then, a sudden lance of fear struck her. She tried to ignore it and continue her Battle Meditation, but it wouldn’t go away. A nagging voice in her mind told her Revan needed help, but how? How did she know? She couldn’t just up and leave when the fight was starting to go their way.
Again the fear struck, this time tinted by pain. A faint scream hammered at her resolve, a scream she knew belonged to Revan.
Revan...
To the surprise of the bridge crew, Bastila broke her meditation and sprinted for the door. Control room, lower decks, now. She used the Force to aid her running, racing past blaster fire and murderous droids. Forgoing the stairs, she jumped. Where was the control room? Where to stop? Bastila wasn’t sure, but Revan’s desperateness grew closer.
There! The brunette snared a railing. Lightsaber on lightsaber clashes emanated from the corridor. Bastila pulled herself up and continued her dead sprint. Destroyed machines littered the well lit passageway, proof of Malak and Revan’s presence. Streaks of blood began appearing along with occasional corpses--one of them even held a lightsaber.
Didn’t take long for her to stumble onto the battle site.
Three Dark Jedi wielding their trademark red lightsabers surrounded Revan. Her bloody left arm hung loosely at her side while her right hand gripped her weapon. A long, angry burn mark blazed across her midsection, exposing charred skin. Sweat and blood matted down her blonde hair and she looked to have trouble breathing, let alone standing and fighting. Around her lay four dead bodies in various states of mangledness, all of them Dark Jedi. There was a fifth body, but it still moved. Revan stood protectively over that one, her eyes darting from enemy to enemy as if daring the survivors to attack.
Bastila didn’t understand Revan’s actions until the body convulsed and the head rolled in her direction. Those eyes... she recognized those eyes because they were the only things to recognize.
Malak. Her dear, loving brother lay dying, blood all over his face, his jaw missing, his upper teeth showing like a freak show. And for the first time, Bastila saw Malak cry.
Her lightsaber exploded to life as she dove at the Dark Jedi, a rage unlike any other consuming her. The Republic, the Jedi, her Master, the entire ship could go to hell. Revan and Malak needed her, and nothing else mattered.
See, the Republic liked the Jedi (mostly) and the Jedi liked the Republic (mostly), and every so often, they’d have a small get-together to spread the good feelings around. Senator So-and-So, meet Master What’s-His-Face. Master Whozzat, meet Royal Pain-in-the-Butt. Whether on a planet or in space, people always made a grand production of it. This time, the Republic just completed a new luxury cruiser and wanted to show it off to their Jedi friends.
Enter Master Vrook, Padawan Bastila, newly minted Jedi Knights Revan and Malak, and an entourage of other Jedi folk. Between fending off lecherous politicians and feasting on absolutely sinful food, Bastila had quite an interesting time. With everything going well, the promise of alone time with Revan only enhanced the evening.
Until the Sith showed up, en masse.
Wouldn’t you know it, the navigator turned out to be a Sith spy. Waiters? Sith troopers. Hidden in the cargo bay? Dark Jedi. Oh, and guess who reprogrammed all the droids? Wasn’t a Jedi, that’s for sure. Despite being deep in Republic territory, a few Sith ships managed to circle the luxury cruiser and pelt it with missiles.
What a way to ruin an evening. At least Master Vrook was more than up to the challenge to defend the ship.
“Captain, deploy the few defensive fighters you have and send your security forces to deal with the troopers. Jedi Revan and Malak, make your way to control room in the lower decks and disable the rogue droids. Bastila, stay here in the bridge and aid us with your Battle Meditation. Extend your focus to the Republic ships too. The rest of Jedi, we will battle the Fallen.”
Revan flashed a comforting wink at Bastila before disappearing out the door. Master Vrook gave a few more words of encouragement before leaving via the elevator. That left Bastila alone on a chaotic bridge, people looking at the captain for guidance and the captain staring at the lone remaining Jedi.
“Well?” puffed Bastila, “What are all of you waiting for? You heard Master Vrook!”
That got them going. Bastila planted herself on a chair and proceeded to call upon her greatest ability. Uncertainty snaked through her--she’d never extended herself this much. A ship? Yes. Ten to twenty people? Of course. But to envelope this cruiser AND the fighters outside? Difficult, if not impossible.
Still, the Jedi needed her. The Republic needed her. Revan needed her and she would never fail Revan.
Minutes passed and the ship’s shuddering from missile hits lessened. Panicked cries for help over the radio became infrequent. Whispers of victory made its way through the ranks.
“The Jedi have saved us!”
“The Sith don’t stand a chance!”
“It’s a miracle! A miracle!”
Success! She helped turn the tide!
But then, a sudden lance of fear struck her. She tried to ignore it and continue her Battle Meditation, but it wouldn’t go away. A nagging voice in her mind told her Revan needed help, but how? How did she know? She couldn’t just up and leave when the fight was starting to go their way.
Again the fear struck, this time tinted by pain. A faint scream hammered at her resolve, a scream she knew belonged to Revan.
Revan...
To the surprise of the bridge crew, Bastila broke her meditation and sprinted for the door. Control room, lower decks, now. She used the Force to aid her running, racing past blaster fire and murderous droids. Forgoing the stairs, she jumped. Where was the control room? Where to stop? Bastila wasn’t sure, but Revan’s desperateness grew closer.
There! The brunette snared a railing. Lightsaber on lightsaber clashes emanated from the corridor. Bastila pulled herself up and continued her dead sprint. Destroyed machines littered the well lit passageway, proof of Malak and Revan’s presence. Streaks of blood began appearing along with occasional corpses--one of them even held a lightsaber.
Didn’t take long for her to stumble onto the battle site.
Three Dark Jedi wielding their trademark red lightsabers surrounded Revan. Her bloody left arm hung loosely at her side while her right hand gripped her weapon. A long, angry burn mark blazed across her midsection, exposing charred skin. Sweat and blood matted down her blonde hair and she looked to have trouble breathing, let alone standing and fighting. Around her lay four dead bodies in various states of mangledness, all of them Dark Jedi. There was a fifth body, but it still moved. Revan stood protectively over that one, her eyes darting from enemy to enemy as if daring the survivors to attack.
Bastila didn’t understand Revan’s actions until the body convulsed and the head rolled in her direction. Those eyes... she recognized those eyes because they were the only things to recognize.
Malak. Her dear, loving brother lay dying, blood all over his face, his jaw missing, his upper teeth showing like a freak show. And for the first time, Bastila saw Malak cry.
Her lightsaber exploded to life as she dove at the Dark Jedi, a rage unlike any other consuming her. The Republic, the Jedi, her Master, the entire ship could go to hell. Revan and Malak needed her, and nothing else mattered.
*****************
“An entire Republic cruiser. Gone.”
No one dared to say a word.
“Twelve of your Jedi brothers. Dead.”
Bastila couldn’t meet her Master’s gaze.
“I gave you an order, Padawan Bastila Shan. Tell the Council what that order was.”
She breathed to still her nerves. “Stay in the bridge and aid everyone with Battle Meditation.”
“What did you do?”
“I went to the aid of Jedi Revan and my brother.”
The audience broke into murmurs. Master Vandar raised his hand and all the talking stopped. “Continue,” he said to Master Vrook.
Man, did he ever continue. “Congratulations, Padawan. You saved both Jedi Revan and Malak, but let me ask you: how did you know these two accomplished Jedi needed your assistance?”
“I... I....”
“Yes, Padawan?”
“I sensed Jedi Revan’s distress.”
“Your brother gets his jaw cleaved off and you feel Jedi Revan’s distress?”
“I just did,” Bastila curtly said, more curtly than she wanted to.
“Interesting, Padawan Shan. I sensed a good deal of dark emotions in you just now. Could you explain yourself?”
From the back of audience, Revan stood up and shouted, “That’s dewback’s dung, you old windbag!”
“Enough, Jedi Revan,” Master Vandar scolded, “return to your seat.”
“No,” retorted the blonde, walking toward the Council, “Master Vrook is baiting Bastila, trying to set her off-balance so she’ll disgrace herself.”
“A Jedi is above baiting,” Vrook noted, “especially any apprentice of mine.”
“Rubbish and you know it! You’ve done a terrible job training Bastila, and now you’re punishing her for your failings as a Master!”
His mouth twisted in amusement, Master Vrook dipped his head and said, “Tell me how I’ve failed, Jedi Revan. Perhaps I may learn something from you yet.”
“When did you ever give her a word of encouragement?” hissed Revan, livid beyond her wildest dreams. “All these years she lived under your strict guidelines, never garnering a measure of your approval. She is a living, breathing person, and you showed her no emotion, only that damned indifference of yours!”
“This is no emotion, Jedi Revan. Have you forgotten your teachings so quickly?”
“Fuck the Jedi Code! Emotion drives us to do what we feel is right. Emotion drives us to continue living each day. The Jedi Code was created to calm a person’s mind in trying times, not as a creed to treat others with. You used your damned interpretation of the Jedi Code to drive Master Jolee away, and now you’re turning it on your own apprentice.
“We align ourselves with the Light Side not out of indifference, but out of compassion for others. How are your actions compassionate? How did you even teach Bastila when you gave her no moral compass to work with? How are you helping her now? You taught her to be an instrument of the Force and nothing else. She is more than an instrument, and you’ve forgotten that. As a Master, as one who guides others, you have failed!”
A feather dropping would’ve made a sound. Every word she said defiled their way of life, but yet, a certain grain of truth filtered through. Young Jedi, too scared to show their support, glanced at each other privately wondering if their neighbor harbored any agreement to Revan’s speech. The Jedi Masters glared in disapproval, their authority never so challenged.
Master Vrook looked like he’d won a war. “I can see now that we were right to remove Jedi Jolee from our ranks.” He dismissively pointed at Revan. “This is the kind of Jedi he mentored? One who doesn’t understand that the Force is what is behind our actions, not our emotions? Unbelievable.
“But you are correct, Jedi Revan. As a Master, I have failed Bastila, and you have showed me why. I allowed her to mingle with you, to have you undermine my teachings before they had a chance to take hold. Any other apprentice would have accepted her Master’s commands and been the stabilizing presence in a sea of chaos. Instead, through your influence on Bastila, you made her susceptible to illogical decisions and selfish actions.”
Nodding to himself, Vrook circled Revan like a shark. “Tell me, Jedi Revan, how did you contact my apprentice?”
Revan’s turn to be stunned and she stepped back to distance herself from Vrook. “I don’t know,” she quietly admitted.
“You don’t know?” he asked, incredulous. “How could you not know? I see you are telling the truth, but how did you not know? Is there a darker, more sinister explanation? Have you by any chance... fallen to the Dark Side?”
“No she hasn’t!”
Everyone turned their attention back to a now standing Bastila. “I made a decision on the Republic ship. I disobeyed Master Vrook’s command and I will accept whatever repercussions he deems fit. Don’t tarnish Revan’s name because she wanted to stand up for me. She is the kindest being I know. She could never fall to the Dark Side.”
“Your responsibility has never been in question,” said Vrook, “but I will not relent on Jedi Revan’s questionable mindset. The bevy of emotions shown today, the horrendous misunderstandings of our teachings, her dubious pedigree, and now this mysterious connection to Bastila are too much to ignore. Nothing can explain-”
“I love her,” Bastila interrupted. “I love Revan,” she repeated, this time with conviction, “These past few months, I’ve grown incredibly close to her. I thought it was funny how she finished my sentences and how I said what was exactly on her mind. Wasn’t until that day on the cruiser did I realize our bond extended beyond merely two people in love. I heard her cry out in pain, Master Vrook. I felt her fear. I felt her desperation. I can feel her now, how much she cares about me and how much she hurts to see me like this.
“There is no darkness in our connection. I love Revan, and she loves me. That is all.”
No one dared to say a word.
“Twelve of your Jedi brothers. Dead.”
Bastila couldn’t meet her Master’s gaze.
“I gave you an order, Padawan Bastila Shan. Tell the Council what that order was.”
She breathed to still her nerves. “Stay in the bridge and aid everyone with Battle Meditation.”
“What did you do?”
“I went to the aid of Jedi Revan and my brother.”
The audience broke into murmurs. Master Vandar raised his hand and all the talking stopped. “Continue,” he said to Master Vrook.
Man, did he ever continue. “Congratulations, Padawan. You saved both Jedi Revan and Malak, but let me ask you: how did you know these two accomplished Jedi needed your assistance?”
“I... I....”
“Yes, Padawan?”
“I sensed Jedi Revan’s distress.”
“Your brother gets his jaw cleaved off and you feel Jedi Revan’s distress?”
“I just did,” Bastila curtly said, more curtly than she wanted to.
“Interesting, Padawan Shan. I sensed a good deal of dark emotions in you just now. Could you explain yourself?”
From the back of audience, Revan stood up and shouted, “That’s dewback’s dung, you old windbag!”
“Enough, Jedi Revan,” Master Vandar scolded, “return to your seat.”
“No,” retorted the blonde, walking toward the Council, “Master Vrook is baiting Bastila, trying to set her off-balance so she’ll disgrace herself.”
“A Jedi is above baiting,” Vrook noted, “especially any apprentice of mine.”
“Rubbish and you know it! You’ve done a terrible job training Bastila, and now you’re punishing her for your failings as a Master!”
His mouth twisted in amusement, Master Vrook dipped his head and said, “Tell me how I’ve failed, Jedi Revan. Perhaps I may learn something from you yet.”
“When did you ever give her a word of encouragement?” hissed Revan, livid beyond her wildest dreams. “All these years she lived under your strict guidelines, never garnering a measure of your approval. She is a living, breathing person, and you showed her no emotion, only that damned indifference of yours!”
“This is no emotion, Jedi Revan. Have you forgotten your teachings so quickly?”
“Fuck the Jedi Code! Emotion drives us to do what we feel is right. Emotion drives us to continue living each day. The Jedi Code was created to calm a person’s mind in trying times, not as a creed to treat others with. You used your damned interpretation of the Jedi Code to drive Master Jolee away, and now you’re turning it on your own apprentice.
“We align ourselves with the Light Side not out of indifference, but out of compassion for others. How are your actions compassionate? How did you even teach Bastila when you gave her no moral compass to work with? How are you helping her now? You taught her to be an instrument of the Force and nothing else. She is more than an instrument, and you’ve forgotten that. As a Master, as one who guides others, you have failed!”
A feather dropping would’ve made a sound. Every word she said defiled their way of life, but yet, a certain grain of truth filtered through. Young Jedi, too scared to show their support, glanced at each other privately wondering if their neighbor harbored any agreement to Revan’s speech. The Jedi Masters glared in disapproval, their authority never so challenged.
Master Vrook looked like he’d won a war. “I can see now that we were right to remove Jedi Jolee from our ranks.” He dismissively pointed at Revan. “This is the kind of Jedi he mentored? One who doesn’t understand that the Force is what is behind our actions, not our emotions? Unbelievable.
“But you are correct, Jedi Revan. As a Master, I have failed Bastila, and you have showed me why. I allowed her to mingle with you, to have you undermine my teachings before they had a chance to take hold. Any other apprentice would have accepted her Master’s commands and been the stabilizing presence in a sea of chaos. Instead, through your influence on Bastila, you made her susceptible to illogical decisions and selfish actions.”
Nodding to himself, Vrook circled Revan like a shark. “Tell me, Jedi Revan, how did you contact my apprentice?”
Revan’s turn to be stunned and she stepped back to distance herself from Vrook. “I don’t know,” she quietly admitted.
“You don’t know?” he asked, incredulous. “How could you not know? I see you are telling the truth, but how did you not know? Is there a darker, more sinister explanation? Have you by any chance... fallen to the Dark Side?”
“No she hasn’t!”
Everyone turned their attention back to a now standing Bastila. “I made a decision on the Republic ship. I disobeyed Master Vrook’s command and I will accept whatever repercussions he deems fit. Don’t tarnish Revan’s name because she wanted to stand up for me. She is the kindest being I know. She could never fall to the Dark Side.”
“Your responsibility has never been in question,” said Vrook, “but I will not relent on Jedi Revan’s questionable mindset. The bevy of emotions shown today, the horrendous misunderstandings of our teachings, her dubious pedigree, and now this mysterious connection to Bastila are too much to ignore. Nothing can explain-”
“I love her,” Bastila interrupted. “I love Revan,” she repeated, this time with conviction, “These past few months, I’ve grown incredibly close to her. I thought it was funny how she finished my sentences and how I said what was exactly on her mind. Wasn’t until that day on the cruiser did I realize our bond extended beyond merely two people in love. I heard her cry out in pain, Master Vrook. I felt her fear. I felt her desperation. I can feel her now, how much she cares about me and how much she hurts to see me like this.
“There is no darkness in our connection. I love Revan, and she loves me. That is all.”
*****************
Revan couldn’t sleep. The Jedi Council spent a whole week deliberating behind closed doors. Word of her explosion flooded Academy halls and strange stories hatched from all corners. Last she checked the rumor mill, Malak had seduced her to seduce Bastila to get back at Master Vrook for punishing him and somehow or another almost killing him, hence the lost jaw.
The story made no sense but that didn’t stop people from talking.
Worse still, Master Vrook put Bastila under lock and key, posting two guards with her at all times with the explicit to keep Revan away. The rationale? Didn’t want Revan spreading her corruption if indeed she was corrupted. Of course, at the very mention of corruption, everyone treated her like a pariah.
Don’t touch Revan or she’ll turn you into a freakin’ ewok!
What a load of crap.
On the flip side, being separated from Bastila left Revan plenty of time to explore the bond between them. Evidently, Bastila also did some exploring too, because if the blonde focused hard enough, she felt Bastila reaching back. Nothing big yet, no exchanges of complex thought or anything, but the tiny brush with her love eased her spirit and steeled her for whatever awaited around the corner.
The story made no sense but that didn’t stop people from talking.
Worse still, Master Vrook put Bastila under lock and key, posting two guards with her at all times with the explicit to keep Revan away. The rationale? Didn’t want Revan spreading her corruption if indeed she was corrupted. Of course, at the very mention of corruption, everyone treated her like a pariah.
Don’t touch Revan or she’ll turn you into a freakin’ ewok!
What a load of crap.
On the flip side, being separated from Bastila left Revan plenty of time to explore the bond between them. Evidently, Bastila also did some exploring too, because if the blonde focused hard enough, she felt Bastila reaching back. Nothing big yet, no exchanges of complex thought or anything, but the tiny brush with her love eased her spirit and steeled her for whatever awaited around the corner.
*****************
“Two weeks, Malak.”
He gripped Revan’s hand and affectionately squeezed.
“I really did it this time, calling Master Vrook an old windbag.”
He rolled his eyes and shrugged. Laughter proved to be a painful, pitiful, and embarrassing endeavor, so he tried his best to not get too worked up. Calling Master Vrook an old windbag? Classic stuff and something he wished he had the courage to say. Funny too, and for now, he tried to avoid funny. Damn her for that lovable big mouth.
The lack of speech and clear effort to stifle boisterous giggles pushed Revan to tears, and she turned away. Malak sat up in his bed and forced her to look at him. They didn’t speak, but the soft, caring gleam in Malak’s eyes said all he needed to say. He brought his hand up and wiped away the tears.
“Malak,” she cried, hugging him fiercely, “I’m so sorry.”
Hesitantly, he returned the hug; a few seconds later, he even patted her on the back. They stayed like that for who knows how long, Revan heaving dry sobs and Malak the quiet rock. Mumbled apologies, promises of vengeance, even self-defamation tumbled out of Revan’s mouth, but no matter how much Malak wanted to contradict her, he couldn’t.
Unable to go on, Revan lifted herself from Malak. She traced his face with her finger, making sure to caress the metal plate where his jaw used to be.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He nodded.
“Your vocalizer is coming in tomorrow,” she smiled sadly, “I’ll get to hear you again and you’ll get to tell me what an idiot I am.”
Watching the harsh Dantooine sun set and the freezing Dantooine moon rise, they sat in companionable silence.
He gripped Revan’s hand and affectionately squeezed.
“I really did it this time, calling Master Vrook an old windbag.”
He rolled his eyes and shrugged. Laughter proved to be a painful, pitiful, and embarrassing endeavor, so he tried his best to not get too worked up. Calling Master Vrook an old windbag? Classic stuff and something he wished he had the courage to say. Funny too, and for now, he tried to avoid funny. Damn her for that lovable big mouth.
The lack of speech and clear effort to stifle boisterous giggles pushed Revan to tears, and she turned away. Malak sat up in his bed and forced her to look at him. They didn’t speak, but the soft, caring gleam in Malak’s eyes said all he needed to say. He brought his hand up and wiped away the tears.
“Malak,” she cried, hugging him fiercely, “I’m so sorry.”
Hesitantly, he returned the hug; a few seconds later, he even patted her on the back. They stayed like that for who knows how long, Revan heaving dry sobs and Malak the quiet rock. Mumbled apologies, promises of vengeance, even self-defamation tumbled out of Revan’s mouth, but no matter how much Malak wanted to contradict her, he couldn’t.
Unable to go on, Revan lifted herself from Malak. She traced his face with her finger, making sure to caress the metal plate where his jaw used to be.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He nodded.
“Your vocalizer is coming in tomorrow,” she smiled sadly, “I’ll get to hear you again and you’ll get to tell me what an idiot I am.”
Watching the harsh Dantooine sun set and the freezing Dantooine moon rise, they sat in companionable silence.
*****************
Three weeks and the Academy was just about bursting at the seams. Jedi who had other places to be (and some who didn’t) went away to escape the escalating tension. Younger residents milled about aimlessly, their minds focused on the Council’s long and unexplained meeting. Rumors got bigger. To some, Revan’s rebellious outburst became a battle cry that pointed out everything wrong with the Jedi’s rigid, disciplined way of life. To others, she embodied their worst fear, a respected Jedi on the verge of falling.
Yet Revan faced the tidal wave of drama as only a true Jedi Master could. Like clockwork, she woke, trained, ate, visited Malak, and returned to her room. Every word slid off of her, every attack she deflected. She accept neither praise nor curses and refused to confirm or deny anything. The very Jedi Code many thought she derided kept her steadfast.
The Code. Her shield.
And every afternoon to the wee hours of the morning, she forged her armor--the one only Bastila could temper.
What began as a vague glimmer of the other’s emotions grew into a full fledged, “I see you and you see me” mental connection. Thoughts flowed between them like water; didn’t even need the good meditative state anymore. If possible, their love grew during their separation. The want for affection turned into the need for affection as they increasingly relied on each other’s strength to carry them through the dark days.
Us against the world: the world didn’t stand a chance.
Their bond. Their sanctuary.
*Something bad is about to happen.*
Laying twisted like a pretzel on her bed, Revan shrugged and tucked her arms under her head. *Something bad already did happen--it’s called Master Vrook.*
*Be serious. The Force, it’s not right.*
*The Force is never right, Bastila. There’s always a disturbance, a shipwreck, or a dark presence looming around it. If it was right, we Jedi would be out of a job.*
The brunette sighed. *You Guardians are all the same. Hand you a lightsaber and watch you smash things.*
*Grrrrr, I smash good.*
*Revan! Stop joking around! There’s something not right about this entire situation.*
*Let me count the ways: three weeks of the Jedi Council talking, people eyeing us like we’ve become ewoks, we can’t even see each-*
A sharp, sudden pain in the arm startled Revan, and, thanks to her small bed and bad posture, she thumped onto the floor. *What was that?!* she groaned as she rubbed her head and lumbered back onto the bed.
*You felt me?*
*I felt something, and if that was your disturbance in the Force, I am not impressed.*
*Well, you were being such a dumb-dumb head that I just wished I could reach over and pinch you real good.*
Revan rolled up her sleeve in time to witness a red welt slowly turn dark into a bruise. *So now we can touch each other too?* A mischievous grin broke out on her face, and Bastila knew the gears were turning in the blonde’s head.
*I know that look and it’s always followed by trouble.*
Not replying, the blonde imagined tickling Bastila. She pictured uncontrollable laughter as her fingers mercilessly assault that little spot under the brunette’s ribs. Bastila’s greatest weakness, and one both Revan and Malak exploited for their nefarious purposes during their childhood.
In the gilded prison that was her own room, Bastila keeled over to stop her traitorous body; her valiant effort lasted all but five seconds. She whooped and gasped and laughed, unable to control herself or clear her mind. Of course, Revan, encouraged by success, continued further... until she herself felt the onset of a tickling.
*Won’t work, my Princess,* she snickered. *I’m not ticklish.*
Around the stomach, under her arms, on the neck--no reaction. In the interest of vengeance and stopping her torture, Bastila cupped Revan’s breasts and was rewarded with a burst of surprise and arousal. Once her brain recovered, however, the formerly smart idea soured into utter mortification for Bastila. They’d made out before, but this? Psychic sex? This wasn’t right. This was so very wrong on so many different levels.
Revan gasped. She moaned when the pressure on her breasts retreated. *Bastila...*
*I’m sorry!* gushed the brunette, her cheeks more reddened from embarrassment than laughter, *I don’t know what I was thinking and I just wanted you to stop so I started touching you because you said that once it made you lose control and ohnoohno I’m so-*
*Bastila,* whispered the husky voice. Revan reached out and imagined Bastila at her fingertips, the silky smooth skin, the heady perfume she bought from that merchant in town, the strong pulse, the perfect figure. *I’ve missed seeing you so much.*
*I’ve missed you too, but-*
*Do you feel good?* She imagined her hands roaming, teasing, exploring every inch of that sinful flesh.
Bastila sucked in a breath, taken back by the abrupt about face. *Yessss,* she answered, sending her pleasure out to Revan...
... Which excited and egged the blonde on. *Amazing,* she said in awe, *I feel you, and I feel me touching you. This... this is...*
*Not another word,* Bastila hushed. She let her imagination wander, creating those things she was too inhibited to try in real life. Revan whimpered--unRevan-like, but satisfying to the ears. Excitement welled up in the women, mutual arousal feeding into each other in an unending cycle.
They started to sweat. They quickened the pace. They grasped at their bond and widened it to reflect all the sensations, to magnify every ounce of pleasure, to finally lose themselves in their love. Their hands caressed their own bodies, but those were mere extensions making real what their minds had already accepted. Their breaths shortened. They blurred together into a nebulous being fed by two spirits. For a glorious moment, Revan was Bastila and Bastila was Revan. Together, they sought release, release from the oppressive world, from the troubles, from the Force they could not control.
It didn’t take long.
They cried out each others’ names.
Yet Revan faced the tidal wave of drama as only a true Jedi Master could. Like clockwork, she woke, trained, ate, visited Malak, and returned to her room. Every word slid off of her, every attack she deflected. She accept neither praise nor curses and refused to confirm or deny anything. The very Jedi Code many thought she derided kept her steadfast.
The Code. Her shield.
And every afternoon to the wee hours of the morning, she forged her armor--the one only Bastila could temper.
What began as a vague glimmer of the other’s emotions grew into a full fledged, “I see you and you see me” mental connection. Thoughts flowed between them like water; didn’t even need the good meditative state anymore. If possible, their love grew during their separation. The want for affection turned into the need for affection as they increasingly relied on each other’s strength to carry them through the dark days.
Us against the world: the world didn’t stand a chance.
Their bond. Their sanctuary.
*Something bad is about to happen.*
Laying twisted like a pretzel on her bed, Revan shrugged and tucked her arms under her head. *Something bad already did happen--it’s called Master Vrook.*
*Be serious. The Force, it’s not right.*
*The Force is never right, Bastila. There’s always a disturbance, a shipwreck, or a dark presence looming around it. If it was right, we Jedi would be out of a job.*
The brunette sighed. *You Guardians are all the same. Hand you a lightsaber and watch you smash things.*
*Grrrrr, I smash good.*
*Revan! Stop joking around! There’s something not right about this entire situation.*
*Let me count the ways: three weeks of the Jedi Council talking, people eyeing us like we’ve become ewoks, we can’t even see each-*
A sharp, sudden pain in the arm startled Revan, and, thanks to her small bed and bad posture, she thumped onto the floor. *What was that?!* she groaned as she rubbed her head and lumbered back onto the bed.
*You felt me?*
*I felt something, and if that was your disturbance in the Force, I am not impressed.*
*Well, you were being such a dumb-dumb head that I just wished I could reach over and pinch you real good.*
Revan rolled up her sleeve in time to witness a red welt slowly turn dark into a bruise. *So now we can touch each other too?* A mischievous grin broke out on her face, and Bastila knew the gears were turning in the blonde’s head.
*I know that look and it’s always followed by trouble.*
Not replying, the blonde imagined tickling Bastila. She pictured uncontrollable laughter as her fingers mercilessly assault that little spot under the brunette’s ribs. Bastila’s greatest weakness, and one both Revan and Malak exploited for their nefarious purposes during their childhood.
In the gilded prison that was her own room, Bastila keeled over to stop her traitorous body; her valiant effort lasted all but five seconds. She whooped and gasped and laughed, unable to control herself or clear her mind. Of course, Revan, encouraged by success, continued further... until she herself felt the onset of a tickling.
*Won’t work, my Princess,* she snickered. *I’m not ticklish.*
Around the stomach, under her arms, on the neck--no reaction. In the interest of vengeance and stopping her torture, Bastila cupped Revan’s breasts and was rewarded with a burst of surprise and arousal. Once her brain recovered, however, the formerly smart idea soured into utter mortification for Bastila. They’d made out before, but this? Psychic sex? This wasn’t right. This was so very wrong on so many different levels.
Revan gasped. She moaned when the pressure on her breasts retreated. *Bastila...*
*I’m sorry!* gushed the brunette, her cheeks more reddened from embarrassment than laughter, *I don’t know what I was thinking and I just wanted you to stop so I started touching you because you said that once it made you lose control and ohnoohno I’m so-*
*Bastila,* whispered the husky voice. Revan reached out and imagined Bastila at her fingertips, the silky smooth skin, the heady perfume she bought from that merchant in town, the strong pulse, the perfect figure. *I’ve missed seeing you so much.*
*I’ve missed you too, but-*
*Do you feel good?* She imagined her hands roaming, teasing, exploring every inch of that sinful flesh.
Bastila sucked in a breath, taken back by the abrupt about face. *Yessss,* she answered, sending her pleasure out to Revan...
... Which excited and egged the blonde on. *Amazing,* she said in awe, *I feel you, and I feel me touching you. This... this is...*
*Not another word,* Bastila hushed. She let her imagination wander, creating those things she was too inhibited to try in real life. Revan whimpered--unRevan-like, but satisfying to the ears. Excitement welled up in the women, mutual arousal feeding into each other in an unending cycle.
They started to sweat. They quickened the pace. They grasped at their bond and widened it to reflect all the sensations, to magnify every ounce of pleasure, to finally lose themselves in their love. Their hands caressed their own bodies, but those were mere extensions making real what their minds had already accepted. Their breaths shortened. They blurred together into a nebulous being fed by two spirits. For a glorious moment, Revan was Bastila and Bastila was Revan. Together, they sought release, release from the oppressive world, from the troubles, from the Force they could not control.
It didn’t take long.
They cried out each others’ names.
*****************
*REVAN!*
The woman bolted up in her bed, lightsaber at the ready. Pre-dawn, no sun, yet the Academy hummed with life. *Bastila, are you-*
Thoughts swamped Revan’s mind. Guards--fellow friends--barging into Bastila’s room, directed by Master Vrook. “You punishment has been set.” No explanation. Hauling her away like a criminal. Fear. Hurt. Betrayal. Hope for safety. Hope for Revan.
She made it out the door before something caused Bastila to lose consciousness. Her peace shattered, Revan flew in her love’s general direction. She didn’t stop to notice anything until she rounded the corner and smashed into a shirtless, saber wielding Malak.
“They have Bastila,” the blonde said frantically, desperation and maybe even insanity creeping through her.
Malak summoned his command of the Force to quell Revan’s mind. He used his superior strength to hold her in place. “I know,” he said, “The Council made its decision and they’re going to break your bond. Vrook got to my sister before me and others are coming for you.”
“I have to save Bastila!”
“What are you going to do?!” he hissed, slamming her against the wall to knock some sense into her. “Are you going to fight Vrook? The whole Jedi Council? Maybe the entire Academy?”
“This isn’t right! This isn’t justice!”
Reluctantly, Malak let go. “It’s not justice, but it’s reality. I want to save Bastila just as much as you, but how are two Jedi suppose to accomplish this? Revan, I’ll support you whatever you choose, but please, calm yourself before you decide.”
As the emotions fluttered away, Revan looked into her friend’s eyes and saw sadness born from helplessness. Shouts of “This way!” and “She’s not in her room!” rung through her ears, tearing at her faith in the Jedi like a rabid Kath Hound. Malak’s jaw gleamed in the pale light, reminding her of the trust he put in her, of the sacrifices he’d made for her.
She couldn’t hurt him, not again. She couldn’t leave Bastila, not like this.
But it was better to run and fight another day. The Jedi, they wouldn’t, they just couldn’t kill Bastila. It wasn’t their way, but then again, rousing members of their own rank from their sleep to subject them to mental punishment wasn’t their way either.
*Bastila, my Princess, be strong. As long as I breathe, I will come for you.*
A faint, almost imperceptible *Revan* pulsed through their bond once more before a wall came down between them. Bastila was there, alive, but now unreachable. Felt like watching her through a visual transmission, watching her suffer horrors but not being able to her. The blonde punched against the barrier to no avail.
The voices of other Jedi got closer.
“The hangar,” she whispered to Malak, “We can still escape.”
*Bastila, forgive me.*
Silence.
The woman bolted up in her bed, lightsaber at the ready. Pre-dawn, no sun, yet the Academy hummed with life. *Bastila, are you-*
Thoughts swamped Revan’s mind. Guards--fellow friends--barging into Bastila’s room, directed by Master Vrook. “You punishment has been set.” No explanation. Hauling her away like a criminal. Fear. Hurt. Betrayal. Hope for safety. Hope for Revan.
She made it out the door before something caused Bastila to lose consciousness. Her peace shattered, Revan flew in her love’s general direction. She didn’t stop to notice anything until she rounded the corner and smashed into a shirtless, saber wielding Malak.
“They have Bastila,” the blonde said frantically, desperation and maybe even insanity creeping through her.
Malak summoned his command of the Force to quell Revan’s mind. He used his superior strength to hold her in place. “I know,” he said, “The Council made its decision and they’re going to break your bond. Vrook got to my sister before me and others are coming for you.”
“I have to save Bastila!”
“What are you going to do?!” he hissed, slamming her against the wall to knock some sense into her. “Are you going to fight Vrook? The whole Jedi Council? Maybe the entire Academy?”
“This isn’t right! This isn’t justice!”
Reluctantly, Malak let go. “It’s not justice, but it’s reality. I want to save Bastila just as much as you, but how are two Jedi suppose to accomplish this? Revan, I’ll support you whatever you choose, but please, calm yourself before you decide.”
As the emotions fluttered away, Revan looked into her friend’s eyes and saw sadness born from helplessness. Shouts of “This way!” and “She’s not in her room!” rung through her ears, tearing at her faith in the Jedi like a rabid Kath Hound. Malak’s jaw gleamed in the pale light, reminding her of the trust he put in her, of the sacrifices he’d made for her.
She couldn’t hurt him, not again. She couldn’t leave Bastila, not like this.
But it was better to run and fight another day. The Jedi, they wouldn’t, they just couldn’t kill Bastila. It wasn’t their way, but then again, rousing members of their own rank from their sleep to subject them to mental punishment wasn’t their way either.
*Bastila, my Princess, be strong. As long as I breathe, I will come for you.*
A faint, almost imperceptible *Revan* pulsed through their bond once more before a wall came down between them. Bastila was there, alive, but now unreachable. Felt like watching her through a visual transmission, watching her suffer horrors but not being able to her. The blonde punched against the barrier to no avail.
The voices of other Jedi got closer.
“The hangar,” she whispered to Malak, “We can still escape.”
*Bastila, forgive me.*
Silence.
- To be continued...