a-artist-a

[a-artist-a]

make me choose → jedi or sith (asked by theladyhawke)

[a-artist-a]

where do we draw the line? (SWTOR Fic)

Yavin 4 is a place for many unespected things. An alliance of Jedi and Sith, a chance for two allies-turned-friends to meet. But Rha is still a Jedi Shadow, reporting back to Satele Shan, and Darth Vowrawn might be eyeing the empty throne. Eventually, they will have to be enemies again. Surely?

Yavin held a weight in the Force, atmosphere constant thick with the promise of a storm. Light and dark swirled around in whirlpools where Jedi and Sith met. Even the soldiers were affected, more restless and more on edge. Apprehension radiated off the camp, both sides on the verge of coming to blows, again. How many times did she had to step in already?

Rha sighed. She was no diplomat – if only others could see that.

But today she understood. Nearby she could sense Vowrawn and for all she called him a friend, he might just be the spark to ignite this powder keg. It made her move faster.

When she reached the meeting point, the others were already there, arguing like every day. Alaris stared at her with wide eyes, silently begging for help. The young Master seemed a bit overwhelmed by the past days, but Rha understood his concern. The Republic and the Jedi had not taken his refusal to do their dirty work well. So they had sent Rha instead.

Force, she got lucky. Sneaking around Darth Marr – Rha should have refused. But she had not.

And now people panicked about the fourth Sith, the scales of power changed again. They were fools. Marr would never risk an attack now.

Even if he did, he would lose. Alaris and Rhoshan were more than a match for Beniko and Lord Irae as was Grandmaster Shan for Darth Marr. She swallowed. That would assign her Vowrawn to fight. Rha shook off her errant thoughts.

“Master Rhadas,” greeted Satele Shan her. First Rha bowed to her, but then she let herself smile beneath her helmet and bowed just as deeply to Darth Marr and Vowrawn, just to be contrary. Satele knew she preferred to be called Knight, yet she kept calling her Master. Alaris gave her an short nod. Rhoshan and Irae must be still on patrol. Hopefully they would not kill each other. Marr had only just forgiven her for the interference.

After a moment of deliberation she choose to address Vowrawn directly: “I take it you are the reason the entire republic camp is about to have an anxiety attack?”

The wave of surprise from Alaris nearly made her laugh out loud.

“It is truly an delight to see you again! My dear Knight.” Vowrawn dragged out the last words in a way that made her fingers twitch. His mind brushed against hers, too light to be an invasion but enough to be an question, and she knew he was going to do. Vowrawn stepped forward, took her hand and kissed it. Rha could have pulled away.

She did not. Maybe she should have. Did he not worry about the implications? Would he not be questioned?

Darth Marr hovered behind him, feeling like cold steel in the Force. But he was Sith. Perhaps his power was enough to keep him safe. Force, when was the last time she felt safe? With twelve, thirteen?

Oh, she really should have pulled away. One look from Satele told Rha that she was going to have to answer to her and not just as Grandmaster Shan. Was it going to be the whole speech? Would the Council question her, again?

But Rha did not regret it. She had missed him – this foolish man with no regard for safety; or his own health, she realized as he straightened again. A wince, easy to miss for anyone who did not knew him and she knew him well. Too well.

Question laid ready on her tongue, but she kept quiet, mindful of their audience. Rha held as much respect as wariness for Satele and Marr. A shadow may have a different kind of freedom, yet also more restrictions. Her superiors approved, she reminded herself, and that was what mattered.

The meeting commenced quickly. There was not much to say apart from more complaints.

Now she only had to go through an second meeting before she could meet Vowrawn. Hah. Rha sighed to herself and waited for Satele. The Grandmaster pulled her aside, put an small round disk on the table between them and activated it.

“Master Shan,” greeted Rha, “Your son will not join us?” She was never quite sure if she should call the younger Shan that in public or not. They both acknowledged their relation but Satele had not spoken on it.

“This is Jedi Business.”

What an interesting statement. Would Satele actually keep information from him? No, not him - the Republic.

“With Darth Vowrawn here, the Sith have the upper hand.”

“Balanced. We are four Jedi, too.” Rha pointed out.

Suddenly Satele looked incredibly tired. “Yet they have more soldiers.”

Ah. She had forgotten that. “Right. But I consider Darth Marr unlikely to attack now.”

“Not now, but after? When we are the only threat . .”

“Perhaps.”

“Vowrawn has not shared any reason for his visit. Could he be an Agent of the Sith Emperor?”

“The Dark Council has been ruling without Vitiate for years, I can't imagine they would want him to return and take away their power.”

And Rha could not see Vowrawn in his service. He was just too, well, himself. Not the kind of person that liked to serve an master, especially one like Vitiate who had abandoned the Empire for so long.

“We need to know what he wants, what he is doing, who he is speaking to.” Satele gave her an meaningful look.

“I will keep an eye on him,” promised Rha and meant it, “ And will try to get him talking – with your approval?”

“You have it. But do take care. He will try to use you – your relationship - could attempt to get you in trouble. We can't have another struggle with Darth Marr.”

Rha nearly rolled her eyes. The message was clear, don't get caught or we'll hand you over. But Vowrawn would never try to harm in such an manner. Set her on an rival Sith – sure, that she could see. Nothing like this, here during such an important alliance and certainly not against Darth Marr. As far as she understood it, they were allies or at least liked each other more than the rest of the Dark Council.

“May the Force be with you.” “And with you.”

She left the Jedi Side of the Camp behind and went to search for Vowrawn. While following his presence in the Force was pretty easy, finding a way through the camp was a lot harder. Somehow the Imperials had managed to structure their side into an confusing maze of tents and rapid-build barracks. Most of them took one glance at her heavy black armor, lightsabers on the belt and her purposeful stride and let her be. A few, though, were looking at her, confusion written bright in the Force.

Then someone at last realized she was in fact not an Sith but an Jedi, or belatedly remembered her armor from their briefing, and demanded to know what she was doing here. They made her wait outside, surrounded by an handful of Imperials that were trying to supervise her. Nowhere nearly enough people to be trouble during an fight.

“He will see you now.” The speaker squinted at her black armor before adding an “Sir.”

The Imperials had managed to create quite the fancy room on such a short notice. If she ignored the Force she could pretend they were on some far off planet in neutral space and not in the camp where enemies could drop in any second. Not just Vitiate's men but also their own. The Republic would love to kill two prominent Dark Councillors and he surely had enemies among the Sith.

Vowrawn did not seem to care. He sat in an polstered chair, red and gold and polished wood, a glass on a small table before him and another chair near him. Did he drag an entire apartment with him?

“It has been too long, my dear.”

“Yes.” It had not even been half a year, but - “I missed you.”

He smiled. “And I you.”

“I had not expected to see you so soon.” Rha decided to start soft in her search for information.

“Unexpected circumstances.”

She tilted her head, silently requesting more. Vowrawn smirked at her before he gave in. “The Hand of the Emperor took offense to my continued existence.”

So Vitiate had decided to remove Vowrawn from the board – or was it an independent act? She could imagine why someone would want him gone. To replace him on the Dark Council, to remove his influence from the True Sith or to kill an rival.

After all, the throne was empty.

And if anyone could take the throne, it would be him. Maybe Darth Marr or the Wrath, but politics were not their interest. Marr cared too much about the Empire to take an position that would not suit him, not when someone better and trusted was right there. And Irae, the young lord, well, he was too self-aware. A prodigy, but an young one, an hero, but without the backing of an family, beloved by the common people, but without an power base. Only a puppet.

“Are you going to be Emperor?” she asked, far too blunt, far too tired. For all his presence did not waver, she knew he was surprised. His eyes widened for half a second and the silence drew out. It was so unlike him, whose sharp mind ever had an answer.

“That would be telling, my dear.”

Yes. It would be. Being close to an Dark Councillor was bad enough, the interrogations, the worry, the waiting for the day she would get the order. Somedays she feared what she would do more than the actual command. Would he kill her? Would she kill him?

Rha shrugged and lied: “Just wondering if I get to fight you.”

But part of her already saw him sitting on the throne, the same smug smirk on his face, and if she, for a moment let her thoughts drift and imagined herself kneeling before him, for once being the one to kiss his hand, then no one would ever know.

He chuckled. “We could spar, my dear, if you are so eager.”

“Eh, Darth Marr promised me one first. And you're injured anyway.”

They had not fought on friendly terms before, barely even fought as enemies and now – did she even want to?

With Marr it was different, Rha had yearned to cross blades with him since she first saw him, twenty years ago. But Vowrawn?

She knew what she would feel compelled to do. Despite everything she still was an Jedi, an Shadow at that and if he gave her an opportunity – No. Planning the best way to kill one of her few, if not only friends, was too much, even for her. Force, she really needed to spend more time with other people.

“My dear knight, do you worry for me?”

“Yes.” Rha glared at him, more infuriated by herself than by his teasing. “I do.”

Vowrawn stared at her, faintly smiling and so very pleased.

“Don't look at me like that. We're friends, you said so yourself. I worry about my friends.”

“But I like looking at you.”

She huffed.

“I am sure my armor is very shiny today.”

It was meant as joke, yet complicated emotions twisted in her gut. Strange as it was, she was apprehensive about showing her face to him, not for secrecy, but -

He must have read something in the Force or perhaps he just knew her that well. Vowrawn took her hand in his, and his fingers found the part of her gloves that was the thinnest, where she could feel his touch and warmth radiating off him. Then he spoke, startling different to his usual tone, not because it was soft, but because it lacked his near constant playfulness.

“My dear – Rha. I will not mind if you never show me your face, if you never take off your armor. I will not. Because I know you and care for you, no matter how you look or not look.” He tapped her on the arm. “This does not change anything. You are who you are.”

“I -” What was she meant to say to that? “Thank you.”

They sat in silence for a long drawn out moment. Rha used the pause to truly look at him again. His face was less easy to read for her than a humans, especially with his presence suppressed, but the time spent together helped. Has it already been an decade?

He must be exhausted. Vowrawn looked more tired than ever, worse than during an long battle, not even after that close call with Lord Irae. It would be easier to press for information, influence. His posture was relaxed, even with the twitch whenever he aggravated his wound. But Rha was determined to let this slide by. Tomorrow, she promised, lied, to herself. Had she not already found answers?

Still, she did not want to leave just yet.

“Ugh,” Rha wanted to rub over her face, but remembered she still had her helmet on, “I am going to have so many uncomfortable conversations after this.”

Vowrawn looked at her and waited for her to speak.

“The Council gets weird about things like this. A lot of stupid questions, a lot of bad ideas and no idea how anything works,” Rha laughed, “Trust issues, I'd say.”

“One would expect Jedi to be less paranoid than Sith.” His tone was light, teasing, but Rha was sure it was mostly a play for more information. Her fingers twitched. Truly, he was Sith and she should not forget that.

“Yes.” she sighed and decided to divert. The secrets of shadows were not to be betrayed, so she would give him this instead. “And of course instead just saying something, they send me in secret.”

“Oh?”

“I had to sneak ahead to 'supervise' Darth Marr. He was not – happy. But it was not the worst idea they ever had.”

“That would be?”

“The grand plan on how to deal with Vitiate. I still don't know if I should laugh or cry - Like, what where they going to do? 'Redeem him to the light side.'”

Rha waved her hands around.

“Ah, just ask nicely and he'll turn around. So easy.”

She sighed.

“If they were going to do it like with Revan I would have understood, for all it would have given me nightmares for the next thirty years. Although – that still failed in the end.”

Years ago, she would wake up in the middle of night, expecting to be dragged out of bed, put into chains and have everything erased what made her her. Nowadays Rha knew she was not worth the effort. Force, but the idea – it had not been done for decades.

Bitterness rose. If it were so simple, if only it were so simple. Could she have returned to the light? Should she have admitted to her Fall? Rha wanted to laugh. Which one?

Somedays she just wanted to blurt it all out. It was worse with Marr. He just expected her to fight and follow orders and he was so damn respectful. Disturbing as the idea was, it would be just so easy to tell him and ask for help. When did she ever ask for help?

Rha tried to shake off the thought, but she - Fuck. She liked him. Trusted him. Since when?

“My dear? Rha?”

“I apologize – I was lost in thought.”

“You spoke of the Jedi's plan to turn Vitiate to the light. I had heard of that, of course, but – I must admit I thought it was more elaborate.”

“The Council could not even agree who or what Vitiate even was. An proper plan - “ Rha stopped. She had several ideas over the years and had considered it better to infiltrate the Sith and assassinate Vitiate. “Well.”

Vowrawn chuckled. “My own peers are similar.” The way he spoke made it clear that he rather see them dead. “Apart from a few.”

Yes. Rha took the chance to change the topic. “I finally got to meet your Wrath in person. Lord Irae. He is quite charming.”

“Very charming.” Vowrawn agreed. “Very loyal.”

Something in his voice made her sit up straighter. Had he seen what she had seen? No. Vowrawn had never meet Rhaddravjen and she hoped it would not change. Her Padawan looked a great deal like the Wrath. On some level she had always known Rhaddravjen must have bloodkin amongst Sith, but she had not expected so see it so clearly.

“And I met the Hero of Tython. Although, I heard another Jedi Master is here?”

“An Jedi Knight. Rhoshan. He was patrolling with Lord Irae.”

“Ah. I know that name. He has fought at Master Alaris' side from the beginning, yet he is a Knight and no Master.”

“Yes.”

“Is he by any chance your Padawan?”

Rha choked. “Where did you get that idea from?”

“Just an thought.” What the fuck was Vowrawn playing at?

“He was trained by Master Verax.” There was no harm in telling him as it would only take a short search to find out.

“I see.” Vowrawn barely managed to hide his grimace. It was no surprise. Verax disturbed even her and they had once been friends. She tried to avoid thinking about it.

“So you do not currently have an Padawan?”

“You are very insistent.”

“No talking about Padawans, then?”

If she asked him, he would drop it and pretend he never asked. But Rha choose to answer. “I haven't had an Padawan since before we meet.”

“That's quite a long time for a Jedi, is it not?”

“Mhm. Yes. But also not. The level of danger I am is a bit much for an Padawan. And its not like I can't give lessons.” Which she rarely had time for, but he did not need to know that.

Vowrawn nodded. A moment passed.

“For twelve years now you have been my ally, my friend. Our bond has held strong despite all struggles.” He smiled wryly. “You might be the most reasonable Jedi I have ever meet. Certainly the Jedi most dearest to me. Marr has praised your skill and pragmatism. I feel the same. You are glorious in battle and a most dangerous enemy.”

A shiver ran down her back. Was this - “We would rather not have you as enemy.”

Ah, yes, it was. So he had set up security. Or was he trying to get her into trouble? No, she decided, he would not waste her trust so. What an opportunity! She hated it. Oh Force, why had he to offer it now?

Her orders were unclear. Before it would have been an waste, to discard a strong Jedi for a spy that would never be trusted, but now? Now he was likely to be Emperor and, even if not, one of the most troublesome Sith. And it was clear that he trusted her. For three years he had not made the offer again, not since they had agreed to be friends. Vowrawn had honored their friendship by stopping his recruitment attempts and she had been relieved. Now he asked again, a third time, but the first serious.

The faces of her fellow Jedi ran through her mind, coming to her for advice or training. Her Padawan, one alive, one dead. Alaris and Rhoshan, so young and yet so burdened. Her own face as her Master betrayed her. And so she remakes her oath: to never harm them as she was harmed.

“But we are.” Rha said softly, not quite an proper refusal. It lacked the fire any other jedi would show at such an unthinkable suggestion – on purpose. She must keep playing the game.

“Not tonight – and if you wish it - not ever again, my friend.”

“Why?”

“You are a great warrior, strong in mind and body. Sensible and determined. What a sight you are when you fight! Because, yes, you are powerful. But it is not just about your power, Rha. You are dear to me - Is it strange that I want you at my side?”

It felt good to hear it, but she could not take any of his words as truth.

“I am a Jedi.” And she would never be anything but a Jedi.

Vowrawn looked at her, somehow managing to find her eyes beneath the black visor.

“You belong to the Order, but you do not have the heart of a Jedi, do you?”

How dare - ! She snarled beneath her helmet. His words hit old wounds and as always she reacted to pain with rage. Her fingers balled into a fist as she for one moment let herself consider throwing him across the room. To use what she had shared as friend against her now – No. Rha forced herself to breathe evenly. The shield must stay up. She must hide her true nature.

A moment passed. The sudden silence was startling in itself. He was never quiet. One by one she unfurled her fingers and put her hands onto her shins.

He did not know. Rha was sure of it. Vowrawn was unaware of the raw, gaping wound he just shoved his fingers into. Well, she was going to educate him.

But if he was aware – better not think about it. He was not. Let it stay at that.

“Do you know who my Master was?” Her voice was flat, too flat, so that it was sharp-edged again. Vowrawn failed to hide his flinch.

“No. None of my informants had this information.” He spoke slowly, like talking to an scared animal. Rha liked to imagine herself more as feral.

“As I thought.” She intertwined her hands. “My first Master died when I was fourteen. Sith, of course.” Rha had never thought she would share her past like this, as a weapon, a sharp blade of words to be wielded against him. “I had my first kill the same day. Her killer. Our torturer.” She should stop talking.

Vowrawn swallowed audibly. His force presence was heavily guarded, but she imagined him nervous, scared even. It did not please her but she could not stop. There was a ragged pain in her chest. Ghila would have disliked him. She had been a Jedi at heart, nothing like her, and not hypocrite enough to accept an unrepentant Sith like Vowrawn.

Half the time Rha forgot who he really was – a disservice to both of them. Darth Vowrawn, Lord of the Sith and Member of the Dark Council; and Vowrawn, her friend – they were one and the same, just as her aspects were in the end still all her. And it was so easy to forget that, because Vowrawn himself wanted her to fall into that trap, because of course he did. He had wanted her to like him, his entire tactic was to be charming, then he had grown fond of her, had to, because why else risk this now?

Until today they had at least somewhat pretended that their meetings were for information exchanges, necessary and sanctioned, but now Vowrawn had shattered the illusion. Rha was self-aware enough to acknowledge that she, since day one, only went to their meetings because she liked him and wanted to see him. What he offered was not even valuable information Only once it had been worth it when she had arranged an short truce between her and his troops after an earthquake hit half the planet. But that was the first time they meet. So really, their meetings were entirely unnecessary.

He could not know that she was fallen, that would have been his first argument to join the Sith, so he had to offer because he cared for her, deeply enough that he did not want her harmed. There were a hundred other Jedi that could be turned with ease and thousands of Sith who would love the chance to work under him.

“My second Master was stricken from every file but the most restricted. Do you know why?”

After a moment, Vowrawn answered. “A traitor?”

“Correct.” Rha closed her eyes for a moment. How much to tell? “The – I -”

The worst part was that he had left her behind. That he had not even asked. And she would not follow in his footsteps and abandon those who relied upon her, those who cared for her. Not like him.

She shook her head. “Consider your offer declined.”

“I understand.”

No. He did not. Whatever Vowrawn was thinking, it was incorrect. Incomplete. The idea of herself as Sith was terrifying and exhilarating. Power held no appeal to her. What she wanted was impossible, yet – was it wrong? Was it wrong to want both? To have her friends, gone and yet-to-be, at her side, one side, to have peace, to be able to speak freely, to trust and to lay down her blade?

Already the truce was fracturing, had never been whole to begin with. The soldiers followed Marr and Satele out of personal loyalty, nothing more, united by common hatred. Nothing but the end of the galaxy would make them stop and once that was over – it would begin again.

She wanted to have him at her side. She could not, not without losing everyone else.

“I - “

What even could she say? Her eyes moved over the room, trying to find anything.

“I should go and rest, before the battle tomorrow.” It was an weak excuse but Vowrawn let her draw away.

[a-artist-a]

A Last Lesson (SWTOR FF)

Or: the Fall of a Jedi Master and the Rise of Darth Obscurus A Jedi Master betrays his oaths and his order, but most lasting of all is the scar seared into his padawan's heart. How did he fall? Was it a day or a lifetime?

Ancient doors groan as their locks crack open; the first light, the first air after millenia of darkness and silence reaches the chambers. Thick slabs of stone tower over his head, marked by a forbidden script, yet one he was permitted to learn. A young man steps forward, eager. His master commands him to wait.

Dust and sand swirl around their feet. Every step is pure danger, the traps hidden in the tomb deadly, especially to Jedi: a poison that will cut off your connection to the Force, a spell that will cast a dark shadow inside you. The light burns inside them, the darkness cannot hide. All will be revealed, all will be destroyed. (It is too late, the seed planted.)

He is proud to recognize that this place is even older than they thought. The lines carved into stone pulse beneath his finger and he craves knowledge for there is no ignorance. (Wonoksh Qyâsik nun.)

The first step is taken. Success after success followed by more and more danger, until the zenith: the rumored burial site of Nihilus.

The sweltering heat drags them all down, robes clinging to his body, sweat and blood. Three suns burn above, three graves lay below. Burns mark his arm, rope and lightsaber. Death sings its dark song in the Force. Blood pools around his legs, the only fluid they have. Everything is pain.

Hatred (the Council for sending him here, his Master for dying and himself for being too weak to stop it), rage (they'll die for this, they'll pay for this, he'll kill them!) and bone-deep sorrow (no attachment, no attachment – no weakness, no pain) force his heart to keep beating.

He is the only one to survive.

Afterwards they declared him a knight. He should have been happy, grateful even, but there was no-one to brag to, no-one to be proud of him. He smirks at his no-longer-fellow padawans, tries to feel as he should and yet – he looks at his left side and emptiness is the only answer.

At last the mission succeeded, right? It is all that matters. It must. (It must be worth it.)

Knighthood turns into Mastery, restrictions into freedom and yet more restrictions. Doors open for him: the Temple Guard let him go deep into the archives. Holocrons open for him, his accent is apparently horrible but he improves quickly with so much training. There in the secrets of the order he finds knowledge (- power. It could have saved them.)

They give him a padawan and he stares at this not-quite adult, now his responsibility. He has no idea what to do with her, but he can see her pain like storm clouds around her and he tries.

Attachment is weakness and yet, he cannot let her go. She is so fragile. A wrong word could shatter her and he holds more power over her than over his own life. (He dreams of her grave. How many suns burn above?)

When she wants to introduce him to her friends and looks like she is expects punishments, he tries to smile and not be bitter. His left side is empty but his right is not. For a time he knows peace. With her he learns more than with his own Master, from cooking to psychology and a hundred new ways to break.

A new scar on her is what breaks him.

He needs to mediate, to make someone bleed, to calm down, to become better than he ever was. The wrong words come to him, tangled in his head: There is no peace, there is only emotion.

Where is the light? Where is the dark? Shadows surround him. The shore is nowhere in sight. He drowns, he dreams and he wakes.

On the next morning he petitions the council for her knighthood. It takes long, too long and he cannot ignore the call for much longer. Fear settles into his bones. He must hide. Another week, another month and he will answer. Just a little more time.

But he has no time. In the midst of battle, all alone with his enemy, the blade bites deep and he will not die today, no matter what it takes. At last, power answers his call. His blood surges. His enemy dies and he is praised for his skill. It is all a lie. He keeps using it.

Like recognizes like. An offer is made. An offer is accepted. Still, he waits. She deserves knighthood before she has a traitor as master. She asks him if he is alright, tells him he looks sick. Never has he been so relieved he has no eyes to turn red. The terror grows.

One day he wakes up and stares at her and knows if he does not leave now, he'll take her with him down. Some nights he dreams of burying her in a tomb on Korriban. She would hate it, he thinks and prepares to break her heart.

Getting the drugs is easy, using them is hard. She is the only thing binding him to the order, a more personal betrayal and he must at last leave her behind. For all her paranoia she does not check her meal when he is the cook and she falls asleep. But not without knowing. The Force is alight in flames before her eyes fall shut. He steps over her body. (First he lays her out comfortably.)

The shadows do not let their own go, ever. He must die and so he does. (He doesn't want to kill the fools sent after him.)

Years later, a Jedi Master chases him across the battlefield, mad with grief and betrayal. It would be a good death but – (he cannot let her burden herself with his death.)

When he seals the doors of his own secret archives and hides himself in darkness to acknowledge the light he locks away just like he did with the darkness once, then at last he knows regret.

But it must be worth it. It must. Even if both his left and right side is empty.

[a-artist-a]

Lord Capitan, your companions seem to have gotten into a fight!

[a-artist-a]

I found an amazing reference

[a-artist-a]

a thin line

Jedi Knight Rha owes Darth Vowrawn a favour. It's far from their first meeting but being alone with a Sith is always intense. What are they to each other? Or: pre-relationship Vowrawn/OC

(also on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51022234)

This was a bad idea. Her instincts screamed at her to not go into the hotel, alone and vulnerable. Perhaps it was just her conscience, coming back from the dead for a last stand. Either way, Rha throughly ignored it. The message, a hand-written note, done in red ink, got delivered to her by a nervous servant a handful of days ago. Without opening the letter, she knew from whom it was. Who else would send an actual physical message? It was just right she went to the meeting. After all, a favor was a favor owed and no, the delicious sweets and bottle of tarisian ale did not influence her at all. Or rather, the promise of certain company.

It was far from her first meeting with Darth Vowrawn, but her nerves were alight with tension every time. If this was a trap – Well. It would just be ridiculous. And embarrassing. So damn embarrassing. 'Jedi Master Rhalaslin Rhadas of Demus, captured by Sith because she trusted Darth Vowrawn and followed him into a dark alley.' No, she could already imagine Verax' mocking. Maybe Obscurus was right and it wasn't a good idea to ally with a Sith Lord, but it wasn't like Mr. Traitor had any right to talk. It should feel insulting that all of her friends and family had immediately offered to help kill him and hide the body when it went wrong. Rha only felt warmth. A bit of humor, perhaps. She was quite capable of murder herself.

Meeting Vowrawn again, no, getting summoned by him, like a common servant, one of his many lapdogs, should feel any way but this. Insulting, a sacrifice for her goals, an debt repaid, yet it did not. By the Force, she was already blushing beneath her helmet. Vowrawn, well, he was charming, no big secret that, a master at manipulation and entrancement. His network of spies had been rumored to match Darth Jadus. Nowadays it should be the best, if Jadus really had died. Although it depended on what criteria one used. Obscurus had certainly more Jedi sources. But for how long? It was quite clear to her that Vowrawn tried to recruit her with this move. Her debt gave her the perfect excuse to come, an reason to ignore any guilt, an appeal to her honor. And, that she had to admit, if only in the sanctuary of her own mind, an appeal to herself. Why did she feel flattered?

It was far from the first time someone tried to charm her. Vowrawn might just become the one to succeed.

The honorable warrior was a role she enjoyed playing. It allowed her to present herself as a Jedi Knight and still be able to meet with the strangest people. 'I owe them' became the age-old excuse. Bounty hunters trusted her word, smugglers accepted her offers and far more important, far more rare, Sith Lords made deals with her. The number was low, but higher than any other Jedi could claim.

It was all a lie. She'd been trained by a Shadow and a Sentinel. She betrayed half of her allies and left none alive to tell the truth. Vowrawn wasn't on the list. Yet. The Council might change their mind. Hopefully with a better plan than for the Emperor. Less redemption, more death.

Ugh, she spent too much time with Sith.

White foam gathered where the waves hit the shore. It was twilight, twin moons bright in the sky and the singular sun falling behind the horizon. The hotel stood at the coast. She pulled up the address, just to be sure and hovered around the entrance. It was the right place, wasn't it? No guards in sight, only security. Likely all his people. Force, she should have taken someone with her. Just in case.

With her amour, it was easy to wander around on the planet, neither belonging to the Republic nor the Sith Empire. All in black, shoulders build broader than they actually were and a helmet without visible visor made everyone give her a wide berth. If she were to take it off, no one would ever recognize her. No one ever did. In the rare cases she got drawn into the war, she wore another set, Jedi Sigil white on her cloak and chest plate.

Twenty people. She felt no warning or particular intense emotion, no hatred, no focused fear. None of them force-sensitive enough to matter. She wasn't checked for weapons. Good. The human manning the desk clouded the Force with his anxiety, but waved her through with a stuttered: “He is waiting in Room forty-five, my Lord.”

Rha went up the stairs and down the corridor. Forty, forty-two, forty-four and then forty-five. She raised her hand to knock, it wouldn't do to surprise a Sith or any of his trigger-happy bodyguards. But before her hand could touch it, the door opened on its own. Darth Vowrawn lowered his hand.

“You came, my dear.”

He smiled that dangerous smile of his, and stood up from his chair. Rha bowed in the typical Jedi fashion. Vowrawn chuckled. He took her hand and kissed it. Through her gloves she couldn't feel it, but it made her heart beat faster. He knew what he was doing. Bastard.

“Wouldn't want to leave you waiting.”

The room was nice, soft and comfortable in a way that clashed with their black and red attire and the gleaming gold rings Vowrawn wore. It felt like home, the temple, with its pale blue and green tapestry and white curtains, an utter lack of red and orange. The only darkness in the room was her own armor and his force presence, although even that was restrained, paled out like the colors on the wall. A humming in the force caught her attention. A lightsaber laid on the commode. Vowrawn's lightsaber, set aside as a gesture of trust. It'd take but a second to summon it - but the symbolism mattered. After all, they were more than capable of killing bare-handed. Just a thought and she could snap his pretty neck. Two other doors went out off the room. Her amour could handle a jump out of the window and if she wasn't drugged out of the Force, she could catch herself.

“Please, sit.” He gestured to the other chair. “Something to drink? The wine is most delicious.”

“No. Thank you.” Rha sat down. No way she'd take off her mask for him.

“Why did you call me here?” she blurted out. Rha grimaced. Ugh. Too direct? Vowrawn always played a thousand games at once.

He smirks at her over the rim of his glass. “For an exchange, my dear. I do recall your promise.” His tone was pointed. She may have been in a tight situation when she made that offer, but to betray her word wasn't an option. Honor mattered not to her, but to trick a Sith out of what is his by right – not a good idea. Vowrawn was an valuable asset. She's sure the sentiment was returned.

“Darth Vowrawn. Have I ever disappointed you? I shall keep my word, just as you kept yours.”

“Oh, my favorite Knight, you'd never!” He paused. “Although, my old offer still stands. The Empire would be most delighted to have you.” He leant forward, smirking. “I would be most delighted to have you.”

“And my answer is the same.” Should she really say it? “Fighting against my fellow Jedi would just be too boring.”

Vowrawn chortled. “Now that's a truth! But you have been a rare sight, my dear. Is the Jedi Council keeping you away from me?”

“I am have been keeping myself away from you, not the Council.” she admitted. “Nothing personal, I assure you.” Really, only a Sith would complain about not getting to fight her. Not that they ever fought in personal combat against each other.

“But I have been wanting to test this adorable apprentice against you!” He pouted. Rha wanted to sigh. Why did he ever do anything to frustrate her? “Tell me, what have you been up to?”

“I do have a life outside of - “ She gestured widely ”- this.”

“Ah, but that is not an answer.” He wagged his finger at her.

“Is that you calling in the favor?” She raised her eyebrow, not that he could see it.

Suddenly his entire demeanor changed, all playfulness gone. “I will not press if you truly want not share, Knight Rhadas.”

She bowed her head. “I appreciate it, Lord Vowrawn. I do want to keep my – my people? A secret, even from you. We are on opposing sides,” she reminded him, “I will not engager my home.”

“I understand.” He stared at her, unreadable face and force-presence. “I suppose its time for business.”

“What do you want?”

“Everything.” Typical Sith. Rha rolled her eyes. ”I suppose for today it will be enough if you fulfill your promise. Will you?”

“I will honor my word, Darth Vowrawn.”

“Lovely. Now, my dear Jedi, I only have one small task for you. It should barely trouble you.” It meant nothing good, if he was talking like that. “And that would be?”

“A piece of information.” She waited.

“Go on, Lord Vowrawn.” “So impatient, for a Jedi.”

She sighed. “Vowrawn . .”

Her voice dropped into a growl. She didn't came here for this! He chuckled. “As you desire. I only require the location of the institution where a fellow Sith is held by you Jedi. Darth Irae. Have you heard of him?“

Rha considered the name. She knew enough about the various dialects and naming traditions to know it fell under the same fashion as her old master, Darth Obscurus, but she hadn't heard it before. “I have not.”

“You may know of him as the Lord Wrath, the newer one. And -” he leant forward “If I may say so, the better one.”

“I suppose you would say so. After all, he is not a traitor working with the Jedi. Or, perhaps, it is because he listen to your every word?”

There was a dangerous glint in his eyes. “You know much about the inner workings of the Sith. Do not believe I have not noticed, my dear Knight.”

Was that a threat or a tease? Both? Either way, it was the truth. The young Lord Wrath was but one name in the list of Vowrawn many associates and suspected lovers. More important, there was a lack of information about him. It should not be. The rising star of the Sith had no past, no secret, no name. Who he was before his title was a mystery just begging to be solved. Alas! Not today.

“You are asking me to commit high treason.” “Is that a no?”

“No, I'll do it. If he is held prisoner by the Jedi, I will acquire the information for you.”

“Good.” He gestured. “Now that this business is out of the way, we may return to more personal matters.”

Rha swallowed. Personal matters. Right. Vowrawn implied it in his message, though, implied was too soft a word. They were slowly edging their way to something that, disturbing as it was, felt like friendship.

“This might end badly one day.” It was a half-hearted suggestion. She could die tomorrow, just as he, by anyone's hand or none at all.

“It might, dear Rha, but it also might not. I am Sith. I bend to world to my will. And what is a bit of murder between friends? I - ”

She cut him off. “Are we friends, Vowrawn?”

“Harsh words. Would you rather be called my – ah – temporary ally? A Jedi Knight who owes me a favor? My acquaintance from the other side, so to say?”

Rha grimaced. “Friends then.” She sighed. “You already know more of me than most other people.”

“Do I? A shame. More people should appreciate you. You are a most gracious partner in crime.” Vowrawn took a sip of wine. “And what a sight to watch in battle!”

“Thank you.”

“In all seriousness – how are you? I can sense your tension. Get comfortable, dear. They have a good selection of drinks here, and if one is lacking, my people are at your command. They will fulfill your every wish.” Vowrawn looked her over. “If you need anything to change into, I can provide, as well a selection of masks and veils.”

“How considerate of you.”

“Is it rare? I suppose in Republic space they have hangups about such preferences. Do they force you to take off your mask?” With his words, an snarl came over his face, gone as fast as it appeared.

“I got a medical permit, although the looks never go away.” It was a half-lie, but the truth could never be shared. Vowrawn tilted his head to side. “I was unaware. Tell me if you need any accommodations. I do want my friends to be well taken care off.”

“I appreciate it.” Rha bowed her head again. “I must say, I am surprised you did not knew. I am sure you have, ah, acquired much information about me.”

He laughed. “Oh, I do have! But you and your file are both wrapped in the sweet, sweet smell of mysteries. I'd love to unravel it.”

“Consider me unravelable?” She snorted. Fuck. Vowrawn's force aura had spread at some point, filling the room with dark energy and was a feverish cloak around her shoulders, nearly too hot. Not only felt Rha like she was cooking in her armor, she also felt just a bit drunk. Was that effect intentional?

After a moment she decided it was not. Force-Users were far more dangerous under influence. Vowrawn would not risk it, not after she declined alcohol every time they met before.

“I understand that you, as a Jedi, is satisfied by helping others and seek no power over others, only mastery of the self. But what do you wish to achieve?”

Well, leave it to the Sith to start with heavy question as get-to-know-you game. Rha mulled over her answer.

“As a Jedi I have already achieved what a Jedi should wish to achieve. Mastery of the Force, my body and my mind. I have proven myself by training a Padawan to Knighthood. There are some positions I could desire, a council membership, head of archives, Warden of the Order, Battlemaster and other honors.” Rha dragged a hand against her helmet, the gesture a leftover habit. Vowrawn watched her, eyes bright with power.

“But it – well.” she sighs. “I never wanted it. It was undeserved, Knighthood and Mastery alike. What can I want to achieve when what I achieved is – wrong?” She struggled to find the right words. It was a tangled ball of emotions, old pain and misery, a sense of wrongness and frustration. It could not fit words, at least hers. A capable wordsmith like Vowrawn might succeed.

“You seem like a capable Jedi to me.” Vowrawn's answer was slow.

“I am great warrior, an excellent killer, but not a good Jedi. The fact that I sit here with you is proof of that.” The fact that she'd fallen, utterly violent and gory, many years ago, and never quite knew if she'd managed to climb back into the light, was greater proof. Rha fiddled with the clasps on her gloves and took them off. She rubbed her pale, ever sunless, fingers against each other, tracing the few thin scars adorning her skin. His gaze followed her motions.

“I see your point, my friend. May I know why not?”

“You may not.” She grimaced and added: “May I know what you wish to achieve? I have some ideas, of course, but -” Rha waved an hand around. “It's guesswork.”

Vowrawn traced the patterned lines inside the wine glass. “Of course! I am sure its nothing too astonishing. As my kind so does, I desire power. I wish to follow my passions wherever they might take me, although I have achieved that already.” He winked at her. “I will exert my will over the galaxy and engrave my name onto its history, eternal remembrance in the memory of all people.” As he spoke, the dark side rose in response to his words like a thundering storm. Hot and cold, the sweetest seduction and the sharpest blade, unpleasant and utterly pleasing, all at once. Her fingers pressed against her legs.

Vowrawn blinked, the blaze in his eyes subsided and he apologized. “I do hope that was not too much, my dear. I know getting caught up in the other side can be quiet unpleasant.”

“I am fine.” She waved her hand. “Its not like you were trying to kill me.”

“Indeed.”

Rha stared out of the window for a moment. The midnight sky was bright, compared to home. So much moonlight. “Although . . I have wondered; how does the Light feel to you?”

Vowrawn tilted his head to the side. His earring glittered under the artificial light and threw sparks across the pale walls. “You're not about to try and convert me, are you?” His tone was light, nearly too cool.

She rolled her eyes. “Ugh. I don't even want to think about you as Jedi.” The only way he'd ever become one was, if the council used rather . . strong methods. She'd rather kill him.

“As do I.” He threw his head back and laughed. His collar shifted, a glint of gold around his neck. “I would make a rather poor Jedi.” Vowrawn's fingers tapped against the glass. “Jedi are hollowed out, bleached in the sun, drained of colors, of emotion and yet, some are like shards of crystal. Sharp. Shattered. It all depends on the – ah – murderous intent.” He spread his arms and pointed at her. “You, however, are an enigma. An frozen lake at midnight with a thousand stars reflected into it, white frost and snowflakes glitter under moonlight, crystal spun of ice, and I can only guess at the currents which run beneath the surface. How thin is the ice?” He shook his head. “In battle you were a snowstorm ready to break out and I could not see beyond the white.”

Rha swallowed. A shiver ran down her neck. It was always terrifying when someone saw your true nature, worse, a sith. This was a dangerous line of conversation. How thin is the ice, indeed?

“Did you even enjoy it? Your craft? Does it fulfill you?”

She relaxed into her chair and took the distraction. “An complicated question. Does yours? Or rather, what is even my 'craft'? Is it the art of battle, the exhilaration I find in a good fight? Is it killing and the dark satisfaction I find in wiping certain people permanently off the galaxy? Is it defense and the gratitude of those whom I fight for? Is it teaching?

In my youth is was agriculture! Believe me, there was no ten year old more interested in soil and seeds. For a time it became fishing, then I returned to plant life and wanted to grow force-sensitive flowers. Alas! I have no connection with nature, no matter how hard I tried.”

Vowrawn chuckled. “Agriculture! You surprise me every time.”

It was getting lighter outside. “As much as I'd like to keep surprising you, I think its time for me to leave. I am sure you have much to do as well.”

“Nothing that can't wait for you.” Vowrawn was quick to offer. “You can stay, dear, if you wish to.”

“I need to get back or some concerned people might try to rescue me. And I do have to find out where your Wrath is, Vowrawn.” Rha took her gloves and put them back on. The leather had grown cold. “Return soon, my Knight.”

She bowed. “Farewell, my friend.”

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New Fic!

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tempest prints | join patreon for this month's Rogue Trader themed print club!

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clutches head...... my ocs...

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*by "vague" i mean in line with general, in-game personality, no backstory details not included in the canon, etc.

(basically what i'm trying to suss out is if people click on dragon age fic where they can't insert their own PC)

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「私は神にあなたに感谢の誕生である…」

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"It was always going to end like this."

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Swtortober day 12: Warrior

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we don't talk about Vorgoth o///o

had to half-trace those clothing, they gave me the brainouchy 😑

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💋My beloved whore.💋

✨My sweet twink.✨

🫧My good time butt boy.🫧

Akilia isn't one for smoking but after the Eternal Throne came around and upended his life and took his husband for five years, the habit unfortunately grew on him. The war effort aged him seriously.

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ignore the weird colors/lighting. Babyyyyy :3c

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