#Monster Father >>> Valkorion

[empressvaylin]

Vaylin is my favourite

Valkorion who proceeded to ignore, imprison, torture, and experiment on his so-called favourite child.

[swtorpadawan]

SWTOR Headcanon : Senya Tirall & Finding Out Your Ex-Husband Is Even Worse Than You Thought

So! In Chapter 7 of Knights of the Fallen Empire, Senya appears to hit it off with Teeseven.

I already headcanon they've grown close, as Teeseven stays by her bedside after she gets knocked into a coma. At some point, Senya and Teeseven start exchanging old war stories.

Inevitably, this leads to T7 telling about the fight against Vitiate / The Emperor's Voice on Dromund Kaas, which Teeseven was present for.

Teeseven - in my headcanon - (and in some of my fanfiction) - has an actual holo-recording of that fight, regardless of whether or not the Jedi Knight and the Outlander are one and the same.

So Senya studies this recording. She studies this "other" version of her husband. The one who devastated planets and attempted to annihilate the entire galaxy.

None of it matches.

I've given some of my own thoughts about Senya's relationship with Valkorion, and - of course - he was a terrible husband and father. But he wasn't the complete monster that Vitiate was.

So nothing is making her believe that Lana and the Outlander are telling the truth. Surely they are mistaken.

Except...

Senya knows Valkorion better than anyone. She was by his side for years.

She's probably the only one living who had seen him wield a lightsaber.

After all - its not like its something he'd ever need! Even if he were threatened, his Force powers are unrivaled!

But he knows how. And she's seen him use one. And she knows his Form is rather... basic. (It can best be described as "Ew - get away from me so I can zap you with lightning.")

And as she watches the Emperor's Voice battle the Hero of Tython, she recognizes the style like a signature. Like a fingerprint.

And that's the moment she realizes...

Its all true.

[theshijlegacy]

Who are your top 3 least favorite companions? 

Thanks for the ask! I've been sitting on this one a while, really had to think it over.

Skadge: The Worst. Zero redeeming qualities. Still confused as to WHY any BH would pick him up on Belsavis; all of mine were ready to leave him stranded and/or shove him out an airlock. After the KOTFE Alliance Alert I've kept him exactly once, and only for the achievement.

Quinn: YES IT'S BEEN 11 YEARS AND I AM STILL BURNED BY HIM BETRAYING MY SW THAT ROMANCED HIM EVEN THOUGH I KNEW IT WAS COMING. Most of my SWs will or have killed him on Iokath. Exceptions are Lanaa (it's for the cool customization, don't judge me), Iseia (the original betrayed SW, keeping him in the Rakghoul customization + slave collar), and Senecah (the only one to romance him and stick with it.)

Valkorion: Stretching the definition a bit, but there's no other companion - temporary or permanent - that makes me feel so disgusted. Abusive father turns 2 of his kids into monsters and indirectly causes the death of the 3rd, drives his wife away - when he's not body-hopping and neglecting his family altogether - and rules over a totalitarian state? And this dude wants my help? How about NO. Most of my toons, regardless of alignment, are very much in agreement, but there's a few power-hungry ones who have taken his "assistance."

[swtorramblings]

Unmasked

Vaylin after the battle with Nihilus inhabiting her body by @fleeting-sanity​, thanks.

Another battle has been won, at great cost, but behind one challenge is always another. Usually there’s more time to recover, though.

Theron held up Arcann and Satele’s lightsabers, a bit shakily, missing his blasters. Arcann had exhausted himself protecting him, and couldn’t help him now. All that effort, and it seemed he had made it worse. Senya picked up her saberpike wearily, and attempted to push herself to her feet. She didn’t sense any trace of the monster they had come to destroy, only the one that she had once loved. Satele had finally lost consciousness. The healer Kira had brought, a tall Xabrak woman with golden-orange skin and red hair, seemed as satisfied as she could be, considering how terrible the former Grand Master’s injuries were. She drew her own lightsaber and placed herself between the new threat and her patient. Kira had the same instinct, and moved to protect the others. Internally, she hoped that some of the surviving Alliance members would get here soon, if only so she would be sure that they did survive. There were few enough. She stepped over the rubble, walking towards the Eternal Empress, living up to that title now, somehow. Still broken, still barely restrained from lashing out at all of them. Behind every challenge was another. Was she even paying attention? The healer, Anasta’zia, a Jedi Consular Kira had met on the way to this battle, stepped up next to her.  She didn’t want anyone to risk themselves, but she couldn’t turn down the help, so just nodded to her. Vaylin, for her part, hadn’t even looked up as they walked carefully towards her, since the one time she had spoken to her mother, mocking her loss. She was examining the pieces of Nihilus’ mask, a symbol of his power and its cost, now snapped in half. Kira tried to get her attention. She thought it was stupidly risky, but they had to know who or what they were dealing with. “Hello? Anyone home?” Finally, Vaylin, or whoever this really was, looked up and grinned at her. It wasn’t comforting. “Oh, yes, I think I can say, I am finally home.” “Who are we speaking with?” Theron’s voice said from just behind her, opposite Anasta’zia, though the words were not his, “It’s really you, isn’t it, Sister?” The grin just broadened as she said, “You should know, you brought me here in this pathetic spy’s pathetic brain.” She lifted part of the mask, covered the left side of her face with it. “But, how can you ever be sure? It could just be someone else using me as a mask. Maybe Valkorion, pulling my chains again. Maybe something worse.” Lightning flashed through her other hand, and the other half of that ancient mask turned to powder. “And maybe that something worse is me.” Theron sounded more like himself as he said, “It’s her.” Senya, her leg crudely splinted, leaning on her pike, said grimly, “Yes, it is. How?” “Oh, Mother, you don’t know? You never sensed? I should be disappointed. We used to be so close. Even when we were trying to kill each other.” “I never wanted that.” “You still did it.” Kira finally interrupted. “Sensed what, Vaylin?” She finally dropped her hand and said, “Kira, yes? Kira Carsen? ‘Child of the Emperor’?” Kira’s eyes narrowed, her grip on the saberstaff tightening. “How do you know me? I didn’t join the Alliance until Vaylin was dead.” She actually pouted at that. “I expected more from a spiritual sister.” Kira looked nonplussed, but let her continue. “Fine, if you want to be deliberately dense, ask him.” She pointed at Theron. Kira glanced at him, but then looked back to the threat. “Theron?” “Ha! Not him! Tell her, Brother.” Theron sighed heavily. “He doesn’t need to, and he’s very tired. She’s saying her spirit was in one of us, like Arcann is in me now. Probably the Commander.” “Very good, little spymaster! I’ve been watching from behind the Outlander’s eyes since I was freed from Father’s control. Finally.” Kira wasn’t satisfied with that. How could she be? “That doesn’t explain how you’re here now.” “Oh, that? My family needed their favorite weapon again. Arcann brought me.” “Vaylin!” “Yes, Mother?” She said that almost sweetly. “This is not the time to mock your brother.” They stood, glaring at each other for several moments, until Vaylin frowned, shrugged, and said, “I suppose not. He died trying to protect you, I’ll try to honor that.” “Thank you.” “We’ve all been connected in the past. Arcann to Thexan, and you to me, were the strongest links, but I could sense my brothers, too. When he… died, he found me, called out to me. Asked me for help. I almost told him no.” “But you didn’t?” Kira asked. “No! He still knows how to drag me into his causes. First it was the swamp. This time he asked how Thexan would feel if I let Mother die. And he had no right.” “That was all it took?” “No. I just realized that Thexan is probably lonely and didn’t want to let his brother get devoured. Or Mother, for that matter.” “So, what now?” “Why? Do you think you can stop me?” “We did before.” “You overestimate yourselves. Your Commander isn’t here. Most of you are hurt and tired. And Valkorion was protecting the Alliance last time, hoping to steal my power and enslave me again. Drained me because of a scratch. You don’t want to repeat that fight.” “Then why not try us?” “Because I don’t want to hurt you.” “What? Me? But…” “I was tortured for a decade for my father’s whims, and it broke me. He used his family, my family, like playthings. But you? You had to suffer his foul stench injected into your mind, and resisted. You beat him. I’d sooner pour out a hundred year old blossom wine than hurt you.” Oh, that’s what she meant before. “What about the others?” That grin came back. “Would it bother you if I killed them?” “Yes?” “Then I won’t, for now.” Theron put in, as one of the ones likely to be killed, “I thought you didn’t want them killed?” “I said I didn’t want their spirits obliterated. Not having to share the galaxy with them would be a relief.” “Oh, how will you endure the pain?” “I’m not sure, but I’ll do my best.”

[keldae]

Fictober 2021 -- Day 13

Most days, Theron loved being a parent, honest. It was not a future he would have ever envisioned himself having, but his son was the little star that his world revolved around, and he was excited to meet the daughter in Xaja’s womb, still a few months away from being born.

That being said, tonight was one of the nights when Theron found himself missing being a single, unattached bachelor without four-year-old responsibilities. “Daddy?” asked the little voice as the bedroom door slid open for the -- Theron mentally calculated -- fifth time this night.

“Go back to bed, Daenril,” Theron groaned as he rolled to face the door, trying to keep his voice low so he wouldn’t wake Xaja up. “You’ve had two bedtime stories, and you’ve had a big glass of water, and I’ve already checked under your bed for monsters, and you can go pee without Daddy needing to help you. Go to sleep.”

“But I was s’eeping,” Daenril protested with a little sniffle. “Den I waked up.”

“If you go back to bed, you’ll go back to sleep,” Theron assured the child. “Go snuggle Mister Nerfy.”

Daenril sniffled again and tightened his grip on the nerf plushy he carried everywhere. “I did, Daddy,” he whined. “But…”

Theron sighed. “But what?”

There was a pause before Daenril whimpered out “I had a bad dream,” and this time, Theron could hear the tears in the child’s voice. “It was real scary.”

The things you make me do, Theron inwardly groaned as he sat up, fully prepared to get out of his warm, comfortable bed and escort Daenril back to his own room. “I’m sorry, buddy--”

Taking the sympathy as an invitation, Daenril opened the floodgates as he scampered over to his father’s side of the bed, with the exact tone of voice that promised tears and near-hysteria. “There was a scary old man, Daddy, an’ he said he was gonna be in Mama’s head forever, an’ he was gonna hurt you an’ Mama an’ me an’ Gramma Satele an’ everyone! An’ he had a scary laugh an’ scary eyes!”

A scary old man-- Valkorion? Theron felt his hackles rising at the mere mention of the long-dead monster who had plagued Xaja’s nightmares for so long, not to mention his own. How in the hells could his four-year-old son have been exposed to Valkorion enough to have nightmares about him?! Perhaps the too-smart-for-his-own-good child had just listened to enough of the wrong people talking about the wrong things. Or maybe this was some other example of stupid Force bullshit he was never going to understand. No matter -- none of that would help him calm a terrified little boy down from an awful dream that would have made Xaja wake up screaming.

He sighed and switched on his bedside light, and promptly felt his heart twist when he saw the tears on Daenril’s cheeks. “I’m sorry, squirt," he murmured as he held his arms out to offer a hug to the shaken child, an offer that was immediately accepted. "It’s okay -- the scary old man will never be able to hurt you, or anyone else. Mama and Grandma Satele destroyed him a long time ago.”

Daenril didn’t look convinced. Lip wobbling, he looked up at Theron with tear-filled hazel eyes, little hands clutching Mister Nerfy with a deathgrip. “Can I stay with you an’ Mama, Daddy? Please?”

Like Theron could say no to his terrified little son, after a nightmare featuring that bastard. “Just for tonight,” he agreed as he leaned down to pick the child up with a grunt, situating him on the bed between his parents. “You comfy?”

Daenril nodded as he squirmed down into the blankets, then sharply looked up as Xaja groaned and rolled over. “Sorry, Mama,” he whispered.

“Daenril?” Xaja shifted her pregnant bulk over to frown in confusion at her son and her husband. “Wha’s going on?”

“Someone had a bad dream,” Theron quietly said as he drew the blankets up to Daenril’s shoulders. He would tell Xaja exactly what their son’s nightmare had involved in the morning. No need to give her fuel for her own traumatic memories of Valkorion to spawn a dream from. “I told him he could stay with us for tonight.”

“Mmmkay.” Xaja yawned and stroked her fingers through Daenril’s auburn hair as the child settled in, tightly snuggling his nerf. “You okay, buddy? You’re perfectly safe with me and Daddy. No monsters allowed here.”

Daenril sniffled again, looking up at both his parents. “Promise?” he asked. “No scary bad men?”

“No scary bad men are gonna hurt anyone here. We promise,” Theron assured the child. “Go to sleep.”

“‘Kay, Daddy.” Daenril yawned and burrowed into the blankets until all that could be seen was a mop of messy hair and Mister Nerfy’s plush nose. In only moments, he was out cold, perfectly secure between his parents -- the safest place in the galaxy for one scared little boy. On the child’s other side, Xaja shifted into as comfortable a position as she could manage around her protruding stomach, wrapping an arm around Daenril to securely snuggle him in his sleep; she was back to her own dreams in the space of a few slow, deep breaths.

Theron wished he could follow his wife and son so easily back into slumber. But Daenril’s dream disturbed him as much as it did the little boy; it took him a long time to fall back to sleep, stroking the child’s hair and reassuring himself that everything was okay.

His dreams for the rest of the night featured golden eyes and the cruel laugh he’d heard on Yavin 4 and Ziost.

[pineaberry]

Fictober 2019: #5

STARRING: Sith Inquisitor and Arcann (and kinda HK too)

________________________

Tosali entered Asylum’s control spar expecting it to be crawling with sky-troopers but instead found it eerily empty. She waited for one of Khem Val’s growls which would never come. He always had a habit of baring his fangs at the unknown, but he was lost to her now. As she crossed the floor towards the console, Tosali wondered if she would ever see her prized monster again. Vitiate was silent but that meant little. He could still be brooding over her last rejection of his power. He might allow something drastic to happen just to push her into corner.

Force ghosts, amirite?

Her musings were cut short by a surge in the force and she darted back just in time to dodge the golden streak of a lightsaber. Her lips curled into a mad smile as she recognized that force signature.

“We have unfinished business.” Arcann rumbled before using that same swell of the force to cast her to the middle of the room.

He leapt after her his presence, dazzling all crimson and scarlet hues, but Tosali was waiting for him. Her lightsaber flickered in an unstable haze of violet, hot pink, and white as she parried his attacks. The dizzying effect of her saber made Arcann falter and he lost his footing before being tossed ten feet back.

Tosali sensed his reds become awash with pink and green as the shock of her attack sent a wave of humiliation and outrage through him. It had been a very long time since anyone other than Valkorion had put him in his place.

“YOU… DON’T… TOUCH ME!” his enraged scream rattled the equipment overhead but Tosali’s grin widened.

“Buy me a drink and I’ll do more than that,” she smirked.

The catty response ignited his fury once more and he lunged. “You will hang on my wall for eternity.”

HK arrived and spat a threat at Arcann which widened Tosali’s smile. This day was just getting better and better. Sensing she had the advantage, she raised her hand and cast a full blast of force lightning that hit him squarely in the chest. He fell back, winded and Tosali pointed her blade at Arcann’s head.

“Oh sweetheart, there are easier ways to get me into your bedroom,” Tosali responded genuinely enjoying herself. “But tell you what, after I’m done breaking all your bones, I think I’ll keep you on a short leash.”

She lunged at him her green eyes alight with the giddy thrill of the hunt. The more Arcann snarled and screamed insults at her, the more she wanted to see him in chains. Yes. She would fashion pretty gold chains he could wear while he sat at the feet of her throne. Well, at least for as long as he didn’t bore her.

Tosali’s blade hummed as it swung forward in a definitive strike only for him to feint a parry before stepping out of the way at the last minute. The action worked and she stumbled. Seizing the opportunity Arcann sent a concussive blast of Force that sent her sprawling onto the floor.

“MASTER!”

She only distantly heard HK as her attention was on the suddenly rising levels of force energy concentrating around Arcann. Almost immediately she was thrown back again by HK’s exploding body. Her ears were ringing as she noticed her new toy was now little more than a burning pile of slag. She frowned before turning to the man who had begun to break her things.

“I can’t wait to meet all your friends,” he sounded pleased with himself, too pleased and Tosali scowl deepened.

She leapt forward in a burst of dark energy and force lightning. Their lightsabers crashed and sizzled as they deflected manic fury. It appeared that Arcann’s misgivings and self-doubt had finally vanished with the destruction of HK and he fought with a renewed strength so very different from before.

How very intriguing…

Although she managed to remain one step ahead of his lightsaber’s reach he pulled enough power from the Force to execute a harsh push with the flick of his wrist. Tosali’s lips twitched in a smile as she saw his form dazzle with streaks of gold. That was new. That was definitely new.

All too soon the moment ended. The world grew dim and Valkorion appeared. Of course, the old bastard had been biding his time. How was she supposed to have a proper first date if he insisted on playing chaperone?

“My son is too strong. You need my power. Only together can we strike him down.”

“I was right in the middle of something,” she protested.

“This is not one of your games, take my power.”

“Listen, there’s no one else in this universe who’s more on-board with murder, mayhem, and sitting in your fancy chair than I. Any other time, have at it. Today, I’m sort of in the middle of something. So if you could just… I dunno… be one with the Force for the rest of the day… play paazak with Darth Thanaton, whatever the hell it is you dead people do, I’d greatly appreciate it.”

Valkorion glared at her only for Tosali to give him a meaningful stare.

“Uh, goodbye.”

“So be it…” he replied in tone dripping with scorn.

The world started up once more and she sighed.

Now. Where were we?

Hesitating for a fraction of a second was all it took. Arcann coiled the force around her and yanked her forward. The motion was so swift and effortless she felt as though she were a rag doll. Tendrils of force skimmed through her grasp, but they were too slick and polished for her to find a purchase. The hum of a lightsaber and the scent of scorched flesh told her all she needed to know even before her nerve endings fully registered what had happened.

And there, in the chaos of it all, was Arcann burning triumphant in scarlet and gold. Burning so brightly all other colors paled in comparison.

“Feel that, father?” he snarled. Tosali’s bloodied fingertips reached out to touch Arcann’s face as a strange new emotion bubbled up in her chest. It was warm and fluttering as though she had swallowed a swarm live of butterflies laced with glitterstim. Arcann’s gaze grew wary.

“Oh darling… I might just kiss you.”

________________________

Read More About Tosali HERE!

Original Fictober Promp List HERE!

[inquisitorhotpants]

It should have been Kryn.

Not that Ca’ii would wish Vitiate on any of her sisters - or anyone, really - but of the three of them that answered Darth Marr’s call, Vitiate taking up residence in Kryn’s head would have made the most sense. Already tied to the Force, an astonishingly powerful Sith in her own right. 

It should have been Kryn but Kryn died side by side with Darth Marr, advancing on the former Sith emperor with murderous intent, in an explosive lightning strike that lit up the top of the Spire. 

Surely Force bonds aren’t as fanciful as they’re depicted on the Holonet, and it’s not like Ca’ii is exactly an expert on the things, but the holodramas almost universally depict those who suffer a severed Force bond as half-mad, almost feral, driven over the edge by a malady of the soul for which there is no remedy. 

Yes, perhaps it’s for the best that Kryn didn’t survive. 

Raitlia, of all the Sartoris clan the most natural leader, is who Arcann turned to for an alliance - an alliance that turned out to be shorter lived than even Ca’ii expected - and whose mind Valkorion chose to inhabit, as Ca’ii found out after Lana and Koth mounted quite the exciting rescue of the carbonite-frozen Havoc Squad major and her smuggler captain sister. 

As Raitlia drew allies to her side, stepping into leadership of a ragtag coalition as naturally as she herded her younger sisters in a former life that now seems impossibly distant, Ca’ii remained by her side, lending help where needed, speaking for mercy when Raitlia’s jaw was too tight, her green eyes too angry, her knuckles pale with the strength of her grip on her assault cannon. 

Ca’ii is angry too, but Ca’ii has seen enough death, enough fear, enough misery. Too many people stripped of their humanity, too much of the smell of carbon and smoke and blood. Of all her sisters, even her Jedi sisters, Ca’ii has always been the most positive, the most relentlessly upbeat, the diehard believer that things will get better if everyone just tries hard enough. And so she stops her sister from taking out her enmity on Zakuul, on anyone who crosses her, because Ca’ii won’t see her principled, honorbound oldest sister turn into a mirror of the hatred they’re trying to fight. 

Truth be told, even with all that Ca’ii didn’t expect Raitlia to show Arcann mercy, nor Senya for stealing him out from under their noses. Not after Kryn’s death and his attacks on the galaxy and his attempts to kill both Raitlia and Ca’ii. But after a pause that felt like an eternity, Raitlia snapped a clipped let them go, Ca’ii, and fly us back to the Gravestone, her hands clenched into fists, the words forced out from between gritted teeth. 

--

Ca’ii sits alone at a table in the cantina, idly swirling her subpar ale in her mug. 

Her childhood, by and large, was happy. Fardon and Sai’rah may not have been flush with credits, but there was never any doubt that they loved all eight of the girls they took in off the streets of Nar Shaddaa, never any doubt that they would support whatever the girls chose to do with their lives. 

She almost can’t fathom a childhood where one parent cared for nothing but making his children into weapons, while the other seemed content to do nothing but stand by and watch this travesty happen. 

Her gaze, once again, drifts to the figure in white, solitary and silent at a hastily erected table in the back, a fair distance from the rest. His attention is focused on a datapad in front of him, rather than the frivolity around him, and he exudes a distinct air of a person who doesn’t wish to be alone with their thoughts but has no choice in the matter. 

Of course, she understands why people won’t sit within two tables of Arcann. He’s been the boogeyman of the Alliance since the alliance was formed. Everyone remembers what he’s done. There isn’t a person on Odessen who hasn’t lost someone to an attack he ordered. Consequently, there has been no small amount of dissatisfied murmuring about Raitlia’s decision to allow him to join the Alliance, even after he bent the knee and pledged his fealty to her on no less than a galaxy-wide Holonet broadcast. 

Ca’ii shuts this complaining down, naturally, before it gets to Raitlia; no one is going to question whether her sister is doing the best for this alliance on her watch. Indeed, Raitlia commands a truly astonishing amount of respect from an incredible cross-section of ideologies; they’ll accept her decision, if not necessarily throw a parade for it. 

But then again -

She’s run this mental path more than once. What he’s done against what he’s trying to do now. Being good at what she does, though, is due in no small part to her ability to judge character and sense ulterior motive, and there’s no gain for Arcann to have faked his way into the Alliance. With everyone assuming he’ll turn on them, either he’s playing the longest con she’s seen since Darmas Pollaran … or there is no con.

Arcann stands, seemingly oblivious to how conversation dies when he does, and strides out of the cantina. 

After a moment of fierce internal debate, Ca’ii slides her chair back and follows him. 

--

She finds him on the walkway leading to the landing pad for the Felicity, leaning against the railing and staring out at the Odessen wilderness; she stops a polite yet companionable distance away and mimics his stance. “You must be the most un-rowdy patron that cantina has ever seen.” 

His only answer is a noncommittal hmm. 

“I’m sure Qarac appreciates it, especially after she’s had to clean up after Mandos, Sith, and me on occasion,” she continues. When the silence following this stretches out into discomfort, she clears her throat. “I’ll leave you to your ruminations, shall I?”

“Why did you follow me?” he asks, quiet. 

Why did she? 

Ca’ii shrugs. “People haven’t exactly been lining up to welcome you to the Alliance. We all have our differences - I don’t know how Sana-Rae keeps that enclave of hers in line, just from watching my Jedi and Sith sisters interact in the past - but I imagine it’s a bit harder for people to overlook this particular difference, as it were.” 

“That didn’t exactly answer my question.” 

“Well … I know what Raitlia has told me about Valkorion. I know what a monster he was when he was known as Vitiate; I saw what he did to Ziost. I can’t imagine being raised by someone like that, and it’s obvious how he mistreated you and Vaylin.” Though mistreated feels inadequate. “I think that you’ve demonstrated your loyalties, and -” She stops, well aware of how ridiculous her next words are going to sound. “I guess I just thought maybe you could use a friend. Or at least an acquaintance. Especially while Senya is still in her coma, you’re pretty alone here, and no one deserves that.” 

For a long moment he doesn’t answer, and she starts to wonder if he’s going to at all. 

“So I’ve tried to murder the Outlander - who I have since learned is your sister - more than once, not to mention frozen you both in carbonite, waged a scorched earth war against the galaxy ... and you want to be my friend.” One eyebrow arches. “I’m a bit surprised you’re not more of Major Jorgan’s mindset.” 

His eyes really are quite a pretty shade of blue. Damn. Why does she always notice these things? 

She chuckles. “You may be lucky Aric isn’t Force-sensitive, or you might have taken a nasty tumble off a walkway by now. But as much as he glares at you, he won’t cross Raitlia. If she says you stay, you stay. He’ll just be grumpy. But he’s always grumpy. He was even grumpy when he met me, and I’m the most charming of the Sartoris sisters. Don’t take it personally.” 

“He’s right, though.” 

She considers. “I can understand where he’s coming from, yes. Normally anyone who hurts my sisters gets a personal asskicking from me. It likely didn’t escape your notice in the times that our paths crossed that my aim is nothing to sneeze at.”

“But?” 

“But like Aric … if Raitlia says you stay, you stay. And that means I’m not going to treat you like a pariah, if you’d rather not do everything alone. Of course, if you want to be left alone, I won’t force you to enjoy my scintillating company.” This time she grins. “But I think it’s possible you have better judgment than that.” 

Slowly, almost unwillingly, the corners of his mouth pull upward into a faint suggestion of a smile. “One might suggest that I’ve ably demonstrated my judgment is questionable, at best.”

At this surprise bit of self-deprecation, Ca’ii laughs out loud. “Fair point. But so is mine. Ask Raitlia sometime. She had a list a few years ago; knowing her, she still has it. Anyway, I’m going to go back to my quarters and have a good drink and see what’s on the Holonet. If you want to join me.” 

Did that sound flirty? She didn’t mean it to sound flirty, but sometimes that just happens without her trying. 

She isn’t sure she’d be unhappy if it did, which isn’t something she’s going to unpack tonight. 

Arcann shakes his head. “No.” A slight pause. “Not tonight,” he amends after a moment’s thought. He opens his mouth as if to say more, then closes it. “I … thank you for the invitation, however.” 

Ca’ii nods. “Consider it standing. Perhaps I’ll find you out here again.” She just can’t help herself. “You know, that’s my ship.” She points, somewhat unnecessarily, toward the XS sitting on the landing pad. “Doesn’t look like much, but she’s a beauty. I can understand why you’d want to come hang out with her.” 

To her shock, Arcann actually chuckles, low and rumbling. “You caught me,” he says, deadpan and with no attempt to sound genuine. “I’m out here because of your ship, not for the solitude.”

“And here you said you don’t have good judgment.” Ca’ii steps back from the railing. “I’ll leave you to your thoughts. Have a good night, Arcann. Prince Arcann? Former Em-”

He holds up a hand. “Really,” he says, somewhat pained. “Just Arcann.”

“Have a good night, just Arcann.” 

Now she’s sure she’s not flirting, not with that line. It’s the galaxy’s oldest joke, and Ca’ii can still hear her father using it on Kryn, eliciting a groan from the Miraluka every time.  

“And you, Captain Sartoris.” 

“Just Ca’ii is fine, if you prefer. I only make you call me Captain if you’re on my crew.” 

This is an absolute lie. The only person who still calls her “Captain” is Corso. 

Maybe she is flirting. Shit. 

“In that case, enjoy your evening … just Ca’ii.” 

“Did you just -”

Arcann inclines his head and strides past her, leaving her on the walkway and grinning after him. 

This is going to be a problem. 

Pretty eyes are bad enough; he cannot also be secretly funny and somewhat inscrutable and clearly suffering from Lost Lonely Nexu Cub Syndrome. 

Raitlia is going to kick her ass.

[vespertine-legacy]

Fictober 2019 Day 9

Prompt #10. “Listen, I can’t explain it, you’ll have to trust me.”

Fandom: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game) - Knights of the Eternal Throne expansion

Rating: Teen & Up / Mature?

Warnings: Major Character Death, That choice (you know the one)

Characters: Female Jedi Consular | Alliance Commander (OC: Kestrel Fortuna), Senya Tirall, Arcann, Vette, Torian Cadera

(disclaimer: I am SO SORRY friends, some of you are gonna HATE me for this)

Kestrel, Arcann, and Senya pause in a clearing so that Kestrel can pull her holocomm out of her pocket, requesting status updates before Vaylin’s arrival on Odessen’s surface. Vette flickers before her, the holographic Twi’lek crouching, obviously guarding wounds on her side. But she has been successful in taking out the artillery guns.

“They are not happy about it, and I’m pinned down over here now.” Vette winces and grips her side tighter, ducking down as though trying to remain out of sight. “Gonna need some help.”

Torian’s grainy image cuts in over Vette. “Vette isn’t the only one in trouble. I’m the only one left and about to be overrun.”

“That’s great, Torian, but I’ve got about two minutes before they squash me like a bug.”

Before Kestrel can say anything to stop Torian and Vette from arguing, Valkorion interrupts her thoughts, appearing before her. Even you can’t save everyone, Outlander. By choosing who shall live, you also choose who shall die. Are you ready for that burden?

Kestrel can feel more than hear Valkorion’s laughter inside her head, and she grips the holocomm unit until she thinks it might crack. She can feel Arcann and Senya watching her, waiting for a response, and her voice sounds like someone else’s when she finally speaks. “Torian, we’re coming your way.”

 “Thank you, Commander. I’ll hold my position until you arrive.”

 As soon as Torian closes the channel, Vette’s voice comes back, quietly. “This is a joke, right? You--you’re abandoning me?”

 “Vette--” Kestrel clenches her free fist until her knuckles turn white, trying to keep her voice from breaking. “Vette, you’re a survivor. You’ve walked away from Vaylin before. As soon as we have Torian, we’re coming for you. Okay?”

 Vette’s hologram shakes her head in resignation. “Yeah. Good luck, Commander.”

 After Kestrel shoves the holocomm back into her pocket, Arcann puts a hand on her shoulder. “You’re sure?”

 “Yes. I can’t explain it to you, you’re just going to have to trust me on this. Now we need to go - Torian needs us.”

 --

 It does not take them long to cut a path to Torian’s location, but Senya and Arcann are both awed by Kestrel’s fury as she takes down Skytroopers and Knights. Briefly, Senya wishes she’d been able to train Kestrel back in her former life as a Knight-Captain on Zakuul. When they reach Torian, Senya quickly gets to work assessing his injuries while Arcann scans the area for any remaining troops.

 Kestrel speaks into her comm unit. “Vette! Do you copy? We’ve got Torian. We’re coming for you now.”

 “Wrong again, Outlander.”

 Hearing Vaylin’s voice instead of Vette, Kestrel’s heart sinks and the color drains from her face. 

 “I found the little Twi’lek, and now she’s all mine. I know I told you before that her coloring wasn’t right for my wall, but I may have reconsidered.”

 “Vaylin, don’t hurt her.” Kestrel can’t keep her voice from wavering, and Senya places a warning hand on Kestrel’s arm.

 “Hmmm…. No.” Vaylin laughs, and Kestrel hears a thud and a groan that is probably Vette being thrown against something solid. “You got me to Odessen, so let’s end this.”

 “Let Vette go first. She’s of no consequence to you.”

 “I think I’ll hold on to my little bargaining chip a little longer. I’m sending you a location. Meet me there.”

 Vaylin closes the channel and Kestrel stands clenching and unclenching her fists until her comm unit beeps to indicate a message. Senya glances over at the location displaying on her wrist comm. “That’s--that’s the base!”

 --

 As they run into the Alliance Base, heading toward the location Vaylin indicated, Kestrel can’t bring herself to look at any of the bodies littering the ground to see who else her actions have killed today. Stepping out of the elevator, she sees Vaylin, surrounded by Skytroopers. At first, Vette is nowhere to be seen, but Vaylin turns to face them, revealing Vette being held on her knees with a pike pointed at her back.

 “If you’d waited much longer, I was going to have to snap your friend’s spine to amuse myself.” Vaylin pouted.

 “Hey, do me a favor, Commander,” Vette speaks up from behind Vaylin. “Turn this yeahu'era into bantha fodder.”

 “Let me speak to Father.” Vaylin ignores Vette’s taunt.

 “You know it doesn’t work that way. Let Vette go.” Kestrel watches Vaylin’s hands for any sign of an attack toward Vette.

 “What did he even see in you? Did he really think you could take my throne?”

 On cue, Valkorion appears behind Vaylin. Her eyes widen with an emotion that resembles, but doesn’t quite match, fear. You are not worthy of the throne. You are not fit to rule the Eternal Empire. 

 “I deserve the throne more than your puppet does.” In a rage, Vaylin picks up Vette with the Force and flings her toward Kestrel.

 Vette lands several feet from where Kestrel stands, so she rushes forward as Vette tries to scramble to her feet. As Vette pulls herself up onto her elbows, Kestrel kneels beside her, reaches out to help her. At the same time, Vaylin reaches out with the Force, wrapping an invisible hand around Vette’s neck, and twisting. Vette falls limp against Kestrel’s chest, and for a moment Kestrel stares down at her in disbelief. 

 “You… you monster.” Kestrel’s voice cracks. She can hear Vaylin laughing, saying something about “can’t even protect your own people,” but her ears are starting to ring.

 She can still hear Valkorion clearly. There’s only one way to stop Vaylin. You know what you must do.

 Kestrel slowly stands, lifting Vette’s body, carries her to the nearby weapons modification station. As the closest raised flat surface, it will have to do for a bier for now. She turns back to Vaylin and ignites her polesaber, hears Senya and Arcann ignite their sabers behind her.

 “We end this, Vaylin. Now.”

 The fight does not last long. Senya and Arcann mostly dispatch Skytroopers while Vaylin and Kestrel wear each other down. Vaylin uses cheap tactics, but Kestrel is not afraid to stay tight in Vaylin’s personal space and make her rely on her lightsaber rather than her Force skills. 

 The instant she has an opening, Kestrel drives one end of her saber up into Vaylin’s chest, through her heart. Vaylin’s short cry is one of anger more than anything. Kestrel’s scream is a mixture of anger, pain, sadness, frustration, and guilt, and it doesn’t end until a blast of purple energy causes their bodies to fall away from each other.

 Arcann pulls Kestrel to her feet and drapes one of her arms over his shoulders to support her as he tries to lead her away to find wherever they’ve set up a medical or healing station. Kestrel looks frantically for Senya, and finding her realizes that she can’t speak so she just mouths I’m so sorry over and over.

 --

 In Doctor Oggurobb’s lab, where the Alliance has set up a triage center, Kestrel, Arcann, and Senya are all treated for relatively minor wounds before being cleared to leave. On the way out, Kestrel is told that Torian, who is being treated for more substantial wounds in the healing center that has been set up in the Force User’s Enclave, has asked for her.

 Torian waves away the Voss who has been tending to him when Kestrel arrives. Before she can ask him how he’s doing, he holds up a hand.

 “I know why you picked me, Commander.”

Kestrel tilts her head at Torian, waiting for further explanation.

 “Darvannis, right? You didn’t have to do that. You shouldn’t have done that, Commander. But thank you. I’m gonna make it up to you.” 

 Kestrel closes her eyes and slowly releases a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.

 “Go save the galaxy, Commander. Re'turcye mhi.” Torian offers Kestrel his hand, which she gladly takes, gripping tightly.

 “Re’turcye mhi, Torian.”

    yeahu'era = “bitch” in Ryl

re’turcye mhi = pretty standard Mando’a goodbye, “until we meet again”

(Characters except Kestrel belong to EA/BioWare/the StarWars folks, blahblahblah)

[oolathurman]

while i’m clearing out my screenshots, have another. this is a codex entry, titled Vaylin’s Conditioning. Spoilers for KOTET, I bolded the sections relevant to this post I have in mind, transcript as follows:

Vaylin’s Conditioning

Even as a child, Vaylin showed signs of tremendous power. Fearing she would one day challenge him, Valkorion imprisoned his daughter while he sought limits and controls on her power.

Through brutal experiments and mental conditioning, Vaylin was subconsciously trained to respond to a specific phrase: kneel before the Dragon of Zakuul. When spoken by her father, these words prevent Vaylin from unleashing her power and temporarily trap her will in an unbreakable mental prison.

While effective, it is likely the conditioning aggravated Vaylin’s violent tendencies and contributed to her mental instability. While trying to cage his daughter’s anger, Valkorion transformed her into a monster.

Anyway we all know that Vakorion’s a piece of shit but tbh if he could have just found a goddamn therapist then maybe we wouldn’t be dealing with his family issues. He definitely could have afforded it. :/ Though I guess abusers don’t want to see their victims get help prolly.  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[angelicfangirl]

LIECA AMELL

Lieca is my darling child, the very first character I ever created in SWTOR when it came out over six years ago. She’s been through several server merges, new outfits, new versions, new stories, and all new content. 

Lieca and her twin sister Cera joined the Jedi when they were quite young, and quickly rose through the Order’s ranks once their skills became apparent. Although all of the Masters trained all of the Padawans, a necessity of their small numbers, Lieca was predominantly trained by Master Syo Bakarn and was especially close with Master Satele Shan. She has always been extremely gifted in the aspects of Force healing and shielding techniques, and her kindhearted and sweet nature made her the natural choice as the Jedi Order’s diplomat attache to the Rift Alliance.

Her maternal uncle is of significant rank in the Republic SIS, and it wasn’t long before her work had her dealing directly with various SIS agents. She and Theron Shan worked rather well together (despite the initial awkwardness of her being one of his mother’s favourite students) and they were friends for years before the events of Revan’s return led to them working much more closely and finally admitting their feelings for each other went a bit beyond friendship.

Lieca’s critical work in keeping the Empire and Republic working together on Yavin 4, and helping to smooth over the events of Ziost, in turn gained the attention of Darth Marr when he ventured out in search of the Sith Emperor. They were both taken captive by Emperor Valkorion and Prince Arcann, and even when she offered her support, Arcann in a panic betrayed her and blamed her for his father’s death, taking the Throne. 

And so she became the Outlander, and eventually the glue holding the Alliance together. 

Parts of her post-five-year-time-skip story, including her reunions with her family and trying to help the galaxy once again, are in my monster fic, Stars Alike In Dignity (which I really should make a seperate post about, whoops)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/10222829/chapters/22684379

Lieca’s story and ficlets were actually what got me writing for swtor in general, but it was her younger sister’s story that helped me crystallise it all and actually give Lieca’s story more depth and hope and love and ahhhhh I love her so much ;_;

[inyri]

I imagine Arcann will be like the other bi options (and most of the romances in general) and will only flirt if we do first. Even Theron waits for us to flirt first! So how would Nine flirt with Arcann first then, if he's apparently flirting with her? Or does he go first for some reason? And did Lana and Koth automatically flirt with her too? Or is it just Arcann she's targeting?

(So I had this all typed out and Tumblr ate it… ugh. So if it’s less than coherent I’ve probably just forgotten what I meant to say the first time round.)

I saw this last night, but wanted to sit and think about it a little before I replied. 

Two things, before we start:1) Despite all the shit I give Arcann, I really do genuinely hope that everyone who’s looking forward to his romance content is happy with it!2) As I’ve said before, I spent the vast majority of my SWTOR playtime and almost all my writing time on Nine, so my gut reactions to events that occur in game are nearly always channeled through her headspace. Take that as you will. I also can and do play around with canon to the extent that it suits me. You may fully expect that my written reaction to the content probably won’t be completely true to the dialogue as presented in game. 

To answer your questions:

Yes, I fully expect that the dialogue as scripted will ask the player to make the first move in terms of flirting (particularly for the bisexual romance options, alas- we can’t have men flirting with male PCs unprovoked, can we? *SIGH*) Yes, Nine absolutely flirted with Theron first. 

Nine did NOT flirt with Lana- at first, because Nine doesn’t actively seek out Force-users as sexual or romantic partners regardless of gender (there’s a story or six there) and later because that’s not their dynamic. Nine and Lana are very, very close, but they’re friends. Nor did Nine flirt with Koth: one gets a pretty strong sense from his first few scenes of dialogue that there’s history between Koth and Lana. Even if Nine had been looking for a new partner at the time, which she wasn’t- she could barely talk, having just gotten out of carbonite, let alone wanting to flirt with anyone- she wasn’t going to go anywhere near that without knowing exactly what had happened between Lana and Koth. 

Moving on to Arcann, now…

Nine doesn’t like Arcann.

She let him live for two reasons: she’s very fond of Senya as almost a maternal figure to her, and she understands that Valkorion’s influence on Arcann was a large part of what created the monster that he was. But Arcann chose to use her to kill Valkorion’s body and then freeze her in carbonite like a decorative fresco. Arcann chose to hunt her like an animal, to run her through with a lightsaber, to destroy planets for the crime of maybe having helped the Alliance. Yes, everyone keeps saying that he’s different, now, with the darkness purged- 

-but that only goes so far with Nine. 

She’ll work with him, sure. He’s got a useful skillset, and she’s worked with plenty of people she doesn’t like. But they’re never going to be friends. She’s never going to actively seek him out for idle conversation, and she’s certainly not going to flirt with him in the teasing way that she might do with a friend. 

From a writing standpoint, the thing that sets Arcann apart from any other romance is the content of the letters he’s already sent the PC at this point. All other romances, the expansion ones included, only have romantic or romance-leaning content AFTER the romance has been initiated by the PC. Arcann’s letters, on the other hand- 

“But I am no longer alone […] And I have you.” (post-KOTET letter)

and then after Umbara- 

“My hand is yours. You need only ask.” 

Neither of these are explicitly romantic in the context of their entire letters. But the second in particular sits very poorly with Nine, particularly given its timing.

Again, I do what I want with my plot. Nine and Theron are already married at the time Umbara occurs (they were married before Iokath II, actually, so that was a fun family reunion with her father-in-law…) and Theron’s the only person that Nine trusts completely. 

(She trusts Lana about 99.5% of the time. Occasionally Lana lies. Like now, maybe?)

So if you were looking for the thing that would completely break Nine, Umbara was it- her husband’s now a “traitor,” just shot her best friend and left them on a crashing train to die, and Nine can’t really process that. But even so, the only person who gets to touch Theron is her. She went after Lana after Copero for even suggesting hurting him. Arcann making that kind of offer, particularly couched in quasi-romantic language about asking for his hand really just infuriates her. 

(In my own writing, Nine knows by now that Theron isn’t a traitor. But she also doesn’t know who the traitor in the Alliance IS, so she’s playing that card very close to her chest. I don’t think it’s Arcann, of course, but from Nine’s standpoint- well, she did take his throne. What better way to take it back than with a diplomatic marriage? Never mind that she’s already married. 

But it’s til death do us part for Nine and Theron, and either he comes back when all this is done or- 

That’s a topic for another time.)

All of that is a very long way of saying that Nine is still in a pretty terrible mental place right now. She’s always going to view anything Arcann does pretty skeptically, and the more he pushes the harder she resists. So any overture that seems even slightly romantic, given the tone of some of his recent messages, is going to be met with far more hostility than it might actually merit.

Sorry, Arcann. But your timing fucking sucks, dude.

[the-empires-weapon]

Tirall

My hands are buzzing. All of my consciousness is restrained within the physical form of my body as the Force gathers within my limbs and tucks between my bones. Every scrap that flows into me, every living sense of it, is pulled into my form and locked into place. Made into storage space and then hidden within itself. I can feel the rapid fluttering of my eyelids, and the pull and stretch of my body. I think my lower lip is trembling. My fingers are twitching with the phantom pain, coils upon coils stuffed into each digit like taut springs.

My body is more alive than ever before, and I burn.

...den.

It’s something so distant I can’t pick it up. I can’t read it past the simple noise. A note, a sound, something without meaning or cause. It’s static in my ears. Saliva under my tongue.

...den, are you alright?

A tug, a quiet one, pulling at my mind. Concern.

G...you well...

Somebody’s there.

I tighten my grip on the tension within my body as my muscles stay loose. I pull my mind from its abyss and back to reality. I’m suddenly aware of the sun shining through the lids of my eyes, and the prickle of grass beneath my back. I finally hear the voice for what it is.

“Commander Eden, wake up.”

I flick my eyes open. I’m startled to see the face above mine - marred by scars, callous, twisted into a look of fear.

“Ar...cann?” I blink, still within a bit of daze. I slowly reach under me and push up, minding the dizziness in my head. “Where . . .?”

“Commander, you seem unwell. We’re just outside the base. You were . . .” Arcann stops there. I look to him; he’s kneeling next to me, lines of his body all taut as always. And when I look away from him, and around, I recognize where we are. We’re still on-base, resting in the grass several yards below the main promenade. Within my trance, I’d completely lost track of space - and of time.

I put a hand to my forehead. “How long was I- well, asleep?”

“Nobody’s seen you since this morning,” he insists. “Lana told me you’d taken the day off. For the third time this week.”

“They aren’t . . . ‘days off’. They’re preparation,” I mutter. Before he can ask, I drop my hand look back to him with a half-formed smile. “Sorry, Arcann. Was there something you needed? Or Lana?”

“I had wanted to speak with you. Lana hadn’t been sure where you were. I thought you had a Force Bond with her.”

“Oh- yeah. Um. I haven’t been feeling well, so I had to- erm. Close it,” is my excuse. Much as I wish he would, he’s clearly not buying it, and the lift of his brow says so. I have to remind myself that Arcann’s traumatized, and healing - not a fucking imbecile. I sure was the same way when I was younger (though again, I have to remind myself, we’re the same age). Again, I change the subject quickly. “So, what did you need? Sorry you found me sleeping on the job - I’m around if you need to talk.”

He looks around, as if almost paranoid. “This . . . doesn’t feel like the right place.”

“Because people might overhear?” I shrug. “Honestly, I’ve never seen anybody come down here before. That you found me, even, surprises me.”

“As I said, I’d wanted to talk.”

I nod. “Go on,” I tell him. Still, he hesitates. Another quick pass to make sure we were alone, and he finally sat, cross-legged, pooling his hands in his lap. He looks awkward like this, vulnerable - so much different from the Emperor I’d fought just a few years ago, much different from the man who’d locked me up and frozen me in carbonite. He looks human. For a long time, I hadn’t even thought he was one.

More monster than man.

But, then again, I can’t say I wasn’t the same, once upon a time. (Even now.)

“I . . . have a gift for you.”

Now that, that really makes me start. “Really?” I can tell my eyes are lighting up even if without intent. “You didn’t have to do that, Arcann. If I’d known, I would’ve gotten something for you in return.”

He shakes his head. “You’ve given me more than enough, Commander. You’ve given me an attempt at another life. You’ve given me an attempt at redemption. That’s a gift in itself.”

“Arcann, you’re the one that gave yourself the chance. You’re the one who decided you wanted to change. I’m just your enabler,” I joke. Still, I ask, “What is it, then? I hope you didn’t go through a ton of trouble just for me.”

“I’ve left it for you at your rooms, but I did bring a picture,” He explains. Arcann pulls out a small viewing device and turns it on. I’m stunned by the image - a set of gauntlets looking as if they were made from gold, with tiny parts and pieces wired together to make a flexible-looking glove that’d cover from forearm to fingertips. It’s clearly Zakuulan-shaped, modeled after their typical attire and style, and it’s absolutely gorgeous. That, and looking - from the simple holo - extremely sturdy. And if they’d be just the right size for my hands.

To say I’m a little beyond words is an understatement.

“I’ve been working on them since I joined the Alliance,” he explains quickly, as if he has to do so as fast as he can. “I didn’t use any resources, just what I had on hand, and nothing was taken from your stocks, simply- I asked your friends for measurements, and modeled them best I could, and-”

“Arcann, you can forge metal like that? For armorsmithing?”

When I look to him, I’m surprised to see he’s blushing. That, and not meeting my eyes at all. It’s harder to tell on the side of his face littered with scars, but it’s damn-near obvious on the other side. It’s stunning to even think that I’ve embarrassed him.

“I . . . learned from Knights of Zakuul.”

“Those look so beautiful,” I say, and I mean it. “I can’t wait to try them on. I . . . why didn’t you say you could do that? That’s really fantastic, Arcann. I didn’t know you were so talented with your hands.”

“It . . . wasn’t a skill I exercised very often. Truth be told, it’d been a long time since I forged a piece like that. Perhaps since Thexan’s death.”

I feel my expression soften with worry. “I’m guessing Valkorion wasn’t all-over the idea?”

“I was too busy. And I felt too vulnerable already. Here, I . . . feel freer.”

“. . . you should. That’s why I wanted you to come to Odessan. To heal,” I explain. I reach up and take his hand - it’s obviously shaking, and I want him to relax. When he looks over, I give him a kind smile. “They look so amazing, Arcann. Thank you. If it’s helped you feel better at all, you should continue forging. Maybe it can provide some clarity for you?”

He looks stunned himself at that. “You want me to . . . forge armor for the Alliance?”

“Not if you don’t want to!” I say with a rapid shake of my head. “Not for other people - for you. Make what you want to, what makes you happy. I can tell you’re really proud of the work, and having something to do that comforts you is just fantastic for healing. That’s why I was so active in the cantina dance scene, and ring fighting. Helped me get my head on my shoulders.”

This time, his face scrunches up. “You . . . danced.”

“Well, not in a tutu and ballet slippers, but yeah. For me, it put me back in my body - gave me a feeling of power and agency. I needed those things, for my own recovery. That’s part of how I’ve healed. S’why you can see me sparring every other day in the gym,” I chuckle. “Seriously though - I appreciate it. Those gauntlets look beautiful. You have true talent, Arcann.”

He looks down into his lap again. I think I hear him mumble something, but I don’t catch it the first time. I raise a brow, and he repeats it, just a little louder: “I didn’t think it was anything special.”

“Of course it is! It’s a pretty rare skill, I-” I stop, realizing what he means. I reach up with my other hand and take his hand in both of mine. When he looks back to me, I nod, serious. “Arcann, just because he didn’t put stock in it doesn’t mean it’s not valuable. His words aren’t law - you know that. I know it’s hard to get rid of that feeling, but it’s true. Just because your father didn’t see the worth in it doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.”

His eyes widen a little bit. I recognize the expression - probably mirrors mine back when I was realizing bits and pieces of conditioning that I’d figured out how to undo. Some kind of “click”, or epiphany. Recognizing it in somebody else’s face is refreshing. And to think that I helped get him there.

But of course, he pulls his hand back. Tucks both back into his lap again. And mutters, and mumbles, and continues to blush.

The moments like these, where Arcann’s shy and weary, were few and far between. More common when we were alone, for sure - but it feels like it reflects more of who he really is, and less of who he parades as being. Not to say his obsession with “redemption” and “atoning” was fake, but moments like these reveal more to his true feelings. It’s reassuring and a little terrifying. It wasn’t too long ago that I was in the same place, or so it feels.

But then again, my reality was skewed. I’d skipped five years that others had to live. I’d only really felt “fixed” shortly before-

Arcann finally speaks up.

“I . . . feel as if I still owe you much. For listening, and for being a pillar when I cannot. And you’ve been fighting many battles I haven’t had the chance to see - and another is coming, I know it. I can only hope that with these, I can still offer you some kind of protection, even if I’m not able to be there in body,” he looks back up to me, and nods. “It’s just one of the ways that I want to thank you.”

“Arcann . . .” I start. I stare at him, for moments longer, looking at the honesty on his face - and I finally sigh, and shake my head. “Arcann, you never need to feel like you owe me a debt. Do you understand? I care about you. I want to see you succeed.”

“And this is how I do that,” he tells me, a little more insistently, “By forging my way up, and protecting those who have offered me aid.” He nods to me, and finally looks up at the sky. “It is . . . getting late.”

It’s a clear end to the conversation - as if his awkwardness can’t handle it anymore. And it is getting to twilight, truly the better part of the day absorbed. I nod with him, and finally get up and stretch. “Then I accept your gift, Arcann. And . . . thank you. For caring.” He nods, and rises with me. I smile, and hold out my hand. “Walk back to the base with me?”

This time, I think I finally see his lips turn up, on both sides. A smile.

“It would be my pleasure, Commander.”

He takes my hand, and we walk back up to Odessan’s base.

[swtorramblings]

New character ask.... Thexan !

All right, thanks. This one's a bit more difficult. I don't have really strong opinions or feelings about him, and we never even met him until recently. Senya, Vaylin, and Watcher 2 just kind of spilled out, this required more thought.

I may have ultimately made some decisions based on the core belief that "Everything is Valkorion's fault." Be warned.

He loves his family, possibly but not necessarily excepting his father. He's the only one that visited Vaylin regularly, though, unlike Senya, he never tried to break her out. Still, going to Nathema must have hurt. I believe that he either pulled Arcann back to protect his twin, not his father, or in a momentary burst of , "I hate to see my family fight." I think if Senya had returned while he was alive, he was the one that would have accepted her. I imagine him appearing at the end to help Vaylin find peace, and that's why he came back more recently, to be with family one last time (whether alive or dead), and forgive them.

He believed in his father. He did wrong, if it can really be considered that (I mean, while he attacked Korriban unprovoked, and who knows how many bystanders may have died there, it's the bloody Sith Academy, but I assume he was also in on other attacked worlds), but he had the assurance of the Eternal Emperor that it was the right thing. He was groomed to be a weapon and acted accordingly, just like his siblings. It would take a great deal to break that belief. Koth's former faith in a monster made worse because he's family.

He's stable, but not necessarily good. Arcann describes him as the most resilient of the three, the most able to deal with the abuse they all suffered. But he still helped in war crimes, he still didn't help Vaylin escape her fate, he still protected his father from Arcann's reasonable annoyance. I suspect he would have, like Senya, turned against the Eternal Empire eventually, but we can't know for sure. Mostly, I think that, like Senya, he found himself in an impossible situation that he couldn't see his way out of.

I think he followed Arcann's lead far more than Arcann followed his. It's always felt like both he and Vaylin would have gone with Senya, I think they both stayed for Arcann. Part of this is that Arcann simply needed more, and he was willing to give it. This isn't Arcann bashing, though, he was a kid just like they were.

He would have been the key to saving both his siblings, and possibly their mother. Vaylin still loved him, so if he had gone to rescue her, she would have gone along, unlike with Senya. Even after her release, he could have restrained her excesses and helped her overcome her trauma. Same with Arcann. He could have talked the others into accepting their mother more quickly. And so on. That's why Valkorion set up that fight, and I have no doubt whatsoever that it was exactly what he was doing.

[keldae]

Anniversary

It was early spring on Odessen. Birdsong carried on the breeze, accompanied by the scent of the trees surrounding the Alliance base. Sunlight streamed through the clouds, warm and comforting to most.

The redhaired woman sitting on a window ledge didn’t feel it. No matter that her little ledge was open to the sunlight and the elements, or that the breeze earned an involuntary shiver -- she felt nothing. She wandered through her own mind, lost in her thoughts, her gaze unseeingly fixed on the small circle of gold she kept twisting on her finger, over and over again.

She either didn’t notice the two men watching her from a safe distance or didn’t care to acknowledge them. One of the men, a tall blond-haired spacer, sighed when he sensed the emotions leaking out from her mental shields. “Yeah, no, it’s a rough day. She’s probably not gonna respond to anything.”

The other man, dark of skin and hair, frowned worriedly and crossed his arms. “She’s only been having rough days since he left. Has she eaten anything today?”

“I dunno. Probably not.” The blond glanced over at his companion. “It’s their anniversary today, Koth…”

Koth swore under his breath. “No wonder she’s so out of it, then. It was only their first, wasn’t it?”

Beside him, Korin nodded. The pranking, jovial spacer was unusually sombre, had been since he’d returned from Umbara without his best friend. “And with their son hidden somewhere that ain’t here, she’s a wreck.”

Koth winced. “Poor thing. Is she talking to anyone?”

“Not even Tee-Seven, and you know it’s bad when she won’t talk to Tee-Seven. Senya an’ Lana both tried earlier, but…” Korin sighed. “She wouldn’t even talk to Dad earlier when he tried to get her to eat something.”

“Anything we can maybe do? At all?”

Korin’s lips pressed together in a thin line as he worriedly looked at his sister. Not for the first time, he was tempted to confide the actual plan to her, reassure her that her husband was trying to save her, not kill her… anything to bring the life back to her eyes, or a smile to her face. But until he and Theron and Lana found the real traitor in the base, they couldn’t risk it yet, and that was eating him alive. He glanced over at Koth and shook his head. “Not unless we can find Theron and drag his sorry hide back here, or make it safe for Daenril to come home. They’re the only two Xaja wants.”

Koth grunted in frustrated acknowledgement, and the two pilots turned back to their worried vigil over the Alliance Commander.

She could feel the weight of her brother and friend’s worried looks. She was grieving, not blind. But she couldn’t look up and acknowledge them. That required strength she didn’t have. All she wanted to do was curl up in some dark corner and hide from the weight of the galaxy that she carried on her shoulders, hide until someone else could be the hero instead of her and make everything right again, without the grand kark-ups she’d caused since the Alliance was formed.

Not for the first time, she thought back through all of her previous choices and tried to find out what had gone wrong. Why had the galaxy revolted against the Alliance like this? Was it her leadership? Had she and Sorand, who’d all but taken over the Commander’s duties in the face of the uprisings while she’d been pregnant, somehow karked something up? Had this been laying in wait under the surface, waiting for Vaylin and Valkorion’s demises before rearing its head to strike? Was it something she’d done during the rebellion, or during the Iokath disaster that had nearly killed her?

Whatever it was, Xaja couldn’t see a way to fix it, and that broke her heart. She wanted Theron back to get answers from him for what he’d done to her -- her father was still convinced the younger spy was acting on her behalf, but Xaja was too afraid to trust that hope. She wanted her baby back with her, safe and sound -- but until they found the answers for Theron’s idiocy, found out more about this mysterious Order of Zildrog, Odessen wasn’t safe for her little boy. Daenril was safest with Satele Shan, and that upset Xaja even more -- not that her mother-in-law was raising her son, no. She trusted Master Satele, had trusted her ever since she was a Padawan. But she couldn’t keep her own son safe, another blow to her pride as the Alliance Commander, to her own sense of self-worth as a mother and a Jedi.

She sighed and pulled back from the window ledge, turning inward to her temporary quarters. Her father had ordered her moved to a different billet in the base, one Theron wouldn’t expect her to be in should he return to finish what he started on Umbara. This room was smaller, but secure, and well-protected. The sunlight from the window should have warmed the cold shards left in her heart… but nothing could touch that now, or so she felt.

Her feet carried her toward the storage cabinet in the room, and she dropped to her knees as she opened the door. There, crumpled in the bottom of the wardrobe, was a pile of red and black leatheris. Some days, she couldn’t look at it without shoving it further away and weeping… other days, like today, she grabbed the wrinkled jacket and held it against her chest like it was a lifeline. She could still pick up traces of Theron’s scent on the garment, the scent all at once breaking her heart again and making her feel almost safe and whole. She slipped the jacket on over her thin shoulders, all but drowning in the oversized coat. When she sat down on the bed and closed her eyes, she could almost pretend she was wrapped in Theron’s arms, safe and warm and protected from the monsters that she couldn’t banish from her own mind…

Her jaw clenched in pained grief as she laid down, pulling Theron’s jacket tighter around her skinny frame and tears trickling out from her closed eyes. One year ago, they’d stood on a beach together and slid rings onto each other’s fingers while vowing to love each other forever… now she felt alone and abandoned. Why like this, Theron? she silently cried as she pressed her wedding ring against her lips. Why after you said you loved me?...

Theron was pretty sure that the only two dates to hurt him more than his wedding anniversary were either his wife’s birthday, or his son’s. But he had a goal to bring down the Order of Zildrog before Daenril turned one, or at least make sure Xaja had the information she needed to take down the Order herself. His son was not going to grow up in a galaxy of fear, not if he could help it.

But damn, he wished he was able to make the galaxy safe in a way that didn’t hurt the woman he loved.

It wasn’t enough for him to have the memory of her wide eyes, the expression that looked like she’d just been sucker-punched in the chest, the choked sound of tears in her voice as he left her on the cursed train. Then he’d been an idiot and asked Korin and Lana for updates on her. Lana’s messages had been brief, summarizing the Jedi’s plans and schemes to hunt him down.

Korin’s made him hurt whenever he read them. She’s not eating. I don’t think she’s sleeping. She’s so pale she’s practically translucent. Dad’s worried about her. She hasn’t smiled since Umbara happened. She nearly fainted during morning briefing. We’re all worried. She DID faint during morning briefing today. Finish your op and get out of there. You need to come back soon. Yesterday would be good.

Theron set the shuttle into night-cycle and laid down on his narrow bunk. In the darkness, his deft fingers sought out the secret compartment in the wall, not big enough to hold more than a datastick, or a few credits… or a wedding ring, hidden away where the Order couldn’t see it. It belonged on his finger, not in a small, dusty compartment… and he belonged on Odessen, curled up in a larger bed with the woman who wore the matching ring to his own. Did Xaja still even wear the ring he’d given her, or had she thrown it away, tossed on a powerful Force-throw into the forest?

He closed his fist around the ring and pressed it against his mouth, willing himself to not give a voice to his sorrow and his grief. It hurt, it hurt so badly, but if it kept his wife and son safe, it was worth it… right? His eyes drifted shut as he let his mind wander. Inevitably, his thoughts turned toward his wife and son -- one of them on Odessen, trying to pull herself together to lead a ragtag Alliance… the other one having vanished off the face of the galaxy, and not even Lana and Korin knew where Daenril was. Wherever the baby was, Xaja had authorized it, and that was Theron’s only consolation. And if he couldn’t find Daenril, the Order couldn’t either…

Red hair and green eyes, brimming with tears, filled Theron’s thoughts. He embraced the pain anyway to see this vision of her, like he desperately wished he could embrace her. Xaja…

Haunted hazel eyes filled Xaja’s mental vision for a moment, and grief not her own clenched her heart. She froze, letting the tears trickle unheeded over her pale face. That nudge against her mind, warm and solid as it was… it was familiar. It felt like… no, it can’t be. But who else could have taken over his side of the faint, strained bond they had shared?

She hesitated, then reached back along that narrow thread of the Force, seeking the presence she’d known as well as her own on the other end. For long moments, she felt nothing, and feared that she’d imagined that warm, reassuring presence --

No. That was him, the glimmer of light and warmth that she just brushed up against. Desperately, Xaja reached out before Theron’s presence could vanish again. Theron…

He felt that tug against his mind. His eyes flashed open in shock as the feeling of Xaja (all at once fire and sunshine and sweetness and the refreshing coolness of a new rain) brushed against him, a feeling that he would never have been able to mistake for anyone else. How… she shouldn’t be near enough to feel me. Odessen is several sectors away! And he thought that he had blocked off his end of their bond.

A good spy would have shoved her away, closed himself off and prevented her from feeling him again. For long seconds, Theron wavered, knowing what the mission required him to do. But this feeling of warmth was comforting to him… and then he felt agony that was not his, agony and despair and a grief so sharp, it may as well have been a knife twisting in his chest.

Korin’s terse messages came back to Theron’s mind, and he set his jaw grimly. No matter if he destroyed every single person with ill intent before they could get to Xaja… it meant nothing if she gave up and succumbed to her grief. Theron knew too well how fatal hopelessness could be. He closed his eyes again and strained, reaching back to her as best as he could with his lack of connection to the Force, found her distant presence and clung to her.

He reached back for her. He didn’t shut her out again. Xaja clung right back to him, his warmth mingling with the scent of his jacket around her, making her feel like he was laying beside her instead of somewhere on the other side of the bloody galaxy. She squeezed her eyes shut, focusing on what she could sense from him.

His mental blocks felt like they were down. Xaja could feel immense sadness from him, and guilt (good, she bitterly thought), and regret, and worry, and through it all a thread of determination. Whatever idiotic idea he had in mind, he was going to see it through.

Her own emotions came racing along the bond before she could attempt to corral them. Pain, heartbreak, grief, fear, anger… She opened up her shielding, letting him feel what he’d done to her. They were far too distant to exchange words, but she could still pass on what she felt.

The guilt and sorrow she felt from him resurged, and a wave of some deep emotion she didn’t have a name for rushed over her, making her feel almost like drowning. Was that… apology? Regret? She tucked it away to analyze later and let her grief rise up again. If she could pass one word to him… Why? she screamed into the Force.

The sudden feeling of fierce protectiveness stole her breath away. She knew that feeling… she’d sensed it every time Theron had guarded her back in a fight, or stood guard over her as she’d fought her way back to consciousness, or come tearing through a pack of faceless enemies to help her. Theron’s… protecting me? From what?

Then she felt a surge of something familiar, and despite her trying to shy away from it, it all but drowned her. Love, love, love. Theron had never stopped loving her, if what his emotions indicated was true. That was the emotion she remembered feeling from him a year ago as he’d kissed her after making his vows to her… as he’d held their newborn son in wonder… as she’d felt from him before they’d taken off for Umbara. That was too deep a feeling to be faked. Protection and love…

He’d confused her and he knew it. Theron winced when he realized just how deeply Xaja must have believed the lie he’d told her, the lie that he wanted to destroy her and the Alliance. As she silently absorbed the feeling of love he’d pushed her way, the spy focused. Holding onto the bond for this long was giving him a headache, but he wasn’t about to drop this fragile connection he had with Xaja. He took a deep breath, letting himself feel hope for the first time in too long. Hope that they were going to win against the Order, hope that he would be able to eventually come home to her, hope that his family was going to survive intact.

Finally, finally, he felt a crack in her despair, felt the slimmest glimmer of her own hope. Joy rushed through him powerfully enough to take his breath away… then he finally felt love that wasn’t his own. Xaja reached back for him, with the same love that Theron remembered so clearly from their nights together before the Order had torn them apart. He smiled despite the tears dampening his cheeks as their bond seemed to strengthen, love flowing between them despite the distance separating them.

And for a moment, he could have sworn that he felt Xaja lying beside him, her warm breath on his cool skin. He didn’t dare open his eyes and break the spell, not when he could envision the feeling of her cold hands against his so vividly, breathe in her scent, and pretend that all was as it was supposed to be. In his mind’s eye, he suddenly saw a room on Odessen, and Xaja curled up in front of him, all burrowed up into his old red jacket, a new scar on her cheek that he realized must have come from leaping away from the crashing train, tear tracks on her too-pale face… but a smile on her lips.

Theron’s grasp on the bond finally slipped, and he felt himself drifting back into himself despite his best frantic efforts to cling to Xaja. I love you, he whispered across the expanse, and prayed that she heard it as his eyes finally opened. His pillow was damp from the tears he’d unconsciously shed while in the trance, and his hand was cramping from how tightly he held on to his wedding ring, but his heart was the lightest it had been since the day he’d abandoned her on Umbara.

Xaja slowly sat up, pulling Theron’s jacket tighter around her. She felt disoriented after holding onto her bond with her husband for so long… but she’d somehow heard his whisper, and knew his words were true. Whatever stupid thing Theron was doing, he still loved her… and she still loved him. The feeling of him laying beside her, all warmth and protectiveness and security, still lingered; she passed her hand over his side of the bed, and was almost surprised to realize it was cold.

Hope settled into her chest, feeling almost uncomfortably light and easy. She hadn’t realized how used she’d grown to the despair that had settled in after the train exploded. Warmth flowed through her, a welcome change from the crippling cold that had plagued her since she escaped the train. For once, it didn’t hurt to breathe, or move, and she almost felt like she could maybe try a smile.

She slipped her wedding ring back onto her finger and stood up, brushing away the last of her tears with the jacket sleeve. The Alliance still needed her… Daenril needed her… Theron needed her. The will to live and fight bloomed in her chest again as she nodded to herself. Curling up and drowning in despair wasn’t going to help anyone, or bring Theron back to her where he belonged. She had an Alliance to lead and an Order to take down.

And somewhere in the galaxy, she had a husband to bring home.

[greyias]

What does Grey think about Koths views about Valkorion?

TL;DR – It annoys her, but she ultimately likes Koth for the guy he is

The Longer/Rambly Version:It’s a bit complicated, because she really, really doesn’t like Valkorion, but the people of Zakuul aren’t him. She’s always taken care to try and be respectful of beliefs different to her own, like the Voss, or even Scourge (to an extent – when he started the Dark Side recruitment speeches she happily threw Jedi philosophy back at him). However, the idea of Valkorion as a benevolent god-king is a little too hard for her to completely swallow and stretches that understanding.

By the time the conversation comes up in game (which I had to refresh my memory on, because context is always important!), she and Koth have had time to get to know each other, and know what kind of person each other is. Koth is a man who wants to do the right thing, and protect others. Just because he was indoctrinated into a false belief system* doesn’t make him a bad person. He in fact disobeys direct orders and gets himself branded as a criminal because he refused to kill innocent civilians. For Grey, that itself speaks more for his character than him muttering petulantly that Valkorion “was always good to Zakuul”.

(* - It’s important to note, that as players, and the character with outside knowledge of Valky, him being a god is obviously false, but that doesn’t change that to Koth it’s a truth he’s known from birth. It takes a long time for someone to untangle that kind of thing, and it’s not like Vitiate left a calling card on Ziost that said “Thanks for the souls peepz, totally immortal now! Gonna fuck off and pretend to be a sexy grandpa god-king in Wild Space. Those suckers are so gonna get punk’d!” to really lend any actual tangible evidence to the “world devourer” theory we all know is true.)

And well, they had bigger fish to fry (so to speak) at the time than argue about what basically came down to religion. And his disapproval of her calling his favorite fake deity a world-devouring monster didn’t stop him from rushing to the rescue when Arcann stabbed her in the gut. (Because Grey is apparently too much of a goodie two shoes and had more approval with Koth than with Lana during Chapter 8 of KotFE). He also seemed to take the hint, and doesn’t bring up his Valky worship much after this.

Ultimately, though, I think she views the people of Zakuul as more of Valkorion’s victims – just ones he hadn’t turned on yet. He was still viewing them as playthings – his model society that he had groomed to worship and view him as a god. He co-opted their pantheon and belief system to gain power. He carefully crafted Zakuulan society to feel that their entire lives, comfort, and everything they had was dependent on him. He had twisted the Force users of the planet to believe that their power came from devotion to him. As players, we know that this, and the other belief systems in-universe (the Jedi, Sith, Voss, etc) are just human systems built to explain something intangible.

The-Sith-With-Too-Many-Names always struck me as that charming sociopath type, where he dips into roles to “pretend” to be one of those “lower beings” – but he will throw them away when he gets bored or angry with them. As much as he talks about Zakuul like some proud father, at some point he would turn on them, just as he had done to every single other society he had built up or taken over. Because ultimately, Valkorion doesn’t view any one as a “person” but himself – everyone else is just an object, an obstacle, or a possession. 

He’s a great villain – but a horrible, horrible person. It’s going to take Zakuulan society a long time to detangle their actual culture from what he wrapped his dirty little Force signature around.