#soul bond (Bastila Shan)

[lavampira]

truth flows between us

summary: the nature of force bonds is a curious thing, as revan and bastila know all too well. pairing: vanna phy & bastila shan, vanna phy/malak (past) word count: 1.1k | rated: T | read on ao3 notes: an older fic that was once a prompt fill, twice rewritten and never reposted here before now, but an important facet of my revan's growing friendship with bastila in their canon. vanna also uses they/she pronouns.

Vanna gently rapped their knuckles against the door, announcing their presence before entering Bastila’s quarters with a soft whoosh of the door. Bastila was cross-legged on the floor with her hands resting on her knees and robes billowed around her, meditating, but didn’t bother to look up. She would know it was Vanna anyway through the bond they shared.

“I’m worried about you.”

Bastila still didn’t look up, not even opening her eyes to peek. “Me? Why?”

“Well, you haven’t left the room in a while, for starters.”

“I’ve been meditating. I… needed to clear my mind.”

Silence fell over them again. Determined to see this through, Vanna eased further into the room and settled onto the floor across from her. They could wait Bastila out until she was ready to talk. It was only a matter of time, considering how impatient Bastila could be, despite her stubborn nature. She would tire of Vanna intruding on her meditation and let down the wall she built to hide her emotions behind.

And she was right. Vanna had cleared their own mind of their thoughts, focused on the soft hum of the Ebon Hawk’s engines and energies of everyone on board, when the niggling sense of Bastila’s nervousness poked at their consciousness. It reminded them of the early days with Carth on Taris, sensing his underlying desire to talk about their situation and distrust, but this was deeper, almost part of themself as though the Force was spilling from Bastila into them.

“The bond we share,” Bastila finally began, causing Vanna to glance up, “it kept me from falling.”

“What do you mean?”

“Malak wanted to turn me into his acolyte. He tortured me, fed me lies about you and twisted my insecurity about the Order, but I clung to our bond. I knew the truth because I felt it in you.”

Vanna wasn’t sure what to say to that. They knew their bond was telling, considering they could feel just as much from Bastila as she did from them, but they also knew that Bastila was stronger than she gave herself credit. Sure, she was insecure and had her doubts. But nobody could coerce Bastila down a path that she did not want to take. Vanna just had no idea how to go about voicing that without immediately offending her and losing this large step in confidence.

They had been so worried from the time Bastila had been taken. At first, out of fear of what Malak would do to her, or if they would ever see their friend again. They hadn’t known each other long, technically, and they had started off on the wrong foot in more ways than one, but they had grown close. Their souls knew each other on an intimate level that only the Force could explain. And that was how they knew that Bastila was struggling with the aftermath of her capture, especially as they careened towards the inevitable—Bastila could lead the charge of the Republic forces with her battle meditation, Vanna would leave to face Malak on the Star Forge.

“Also, I didn’t say it before, but I’m sorry for my role in what happened to you.” Bastila reached for her hand, resting her own on top of it. “If I had known ahead of time…”

The unfinished thought weighed heavy between them. The unsaid maybe I wouldn’t have made the same choice was powerful, and it threatened to crack the harsh exterior built around Vanna’s admittedly fragile heart, but it dissipated just as quickly. They both knew it was a lie.

A small smirk pulled at Vanna’s lips. “You still would have saved me.”

Bastila ducked her head, huffing a soft laugh. “Yes.”

“I’m glad you did.”

“Me, too.”

That had been on Vanna’s mind since they'd first learned the truth. They couldn’t remember their old self—only in fragments, pieces of memories that had been unlocked by Malak and resurfaced a little at a time, though they never quite resonated as real—but they knew what they had done. To be the cause of so much pain and destruction, sometimes they wondered if they should have died on that flagship, or if they could have even been redeemed without the mind wipe, but then they would look at Bastila and think there had to be a reason why this young and promising Jedi had saved Revan.

“My memories are resurfacing,” Vanna admitted. It was only fair, considering how much had been shared with them. And they saw Bastila in their peripheral glance at her with curiosity. “Not much, only pieces, and it feels disconnected from me in ways. But ever since he told me, it’s like I was unlocked.”

“Master Vrook worried about the risk of your true memory returning.”

Vanna scoffed. They weren't going to touch that subject. “It’s difficult. I know what Malak has done, but then these memories come to me, and he was my…”

“He was your friend.”

“My friend, my love,” they whispered, recalling flashes of two kids sparring and giggling on the Temple grounds as much as two young Knights sharing victorious kisses on the battlefield and the warmth of each other’s bodies pressed close in a tent away from the prying eyes of their soldiers. “No wonder he hates me so much.”

“Do not go down that road. Malak made his own choices.”

“Just as I made mine?”

Bastila squeezed their hand. They both knew that nothing could be said to that—Revan was given a second chance, albeit questionable and unfair, but Malak had not. Redemption was a fickle thing, as was fate. As was the will of the Force. But she was right, Vanna shouldn’t blame themself for how much farther that Malak had fallen.

“I want to go with you.”

Vanna gave her a sad smile. “The Republic needs your battle meditation. Besides, all of this was started by Revan and Malak, and so I need to face him alone.”

“I know you’re right, but I despise it.”

The silence that followed was a comfortable one, as if a weight that held them down had finally been lifted. Vanna supposed it had. Even with the looming threat of battle, something innately familiar in the pit of their gut from a life they barely remembered, they knew that they were there for each other—even across a galaxy, they would have each other—and their trust, their bond, was unbreakable. They could save the Republic together with their crew.

And they kept that in mind as they were offloading their friends, including Bastila. The time to go their separate ways to the final battle had arrived. The only ones who would follow Vanna were Carth and the droids, who all hovered behind them as they said their goodbyes to the others. They were ready to leave, already halfway up the ramp when that wait, I have something more to say feeling struck them again.

“Vanna?” They turned at Bastila’s voice, surprised when the woman barreled into them, throwing her arms around Vanna’s neck. “May the Force be with you.”

“And with you, my friend. I’ll see you soon.”

[luxettenebra]

Relationship headcanons I guess???

Juhani and Revan are in a queerplatonic relationship. I just think ace lesbian Juhani is Neat

Revan's love for Carth reminds her most strongly of what she felt for Alek, back when they were Jedi. it's definitely romantic in nature, but it's a bit...distant, perhaps, hard to hold on to sometimes. a bit painful, but worth it in the end

it's more than just physical lust that Revan feels for Canderous. it's something deeper, something that makes her feel free, even with how fucked the Council left her. it makes her feel...whole

being around Bastila can be difficult, sometimes, because she knows. she knows what the Council did to her, and despite that, it feels...safe. comforting to be around her, even if she's been prone to lecture. she just wants Bastila to feel as safe and whole as she does

Mission is Revan's Little Sister. she doesn't know how to be a parent, so she'll leave that to Carth and Canderous

sometimes, Revan will refer to herself as "the Ebon Hawk's resident Droid Mother". she doesn't remember building and programming HK, but she still feels something she can only really describe as parental pride. she does all of the maintenance for both HK and T3

Jolee is...well, a grounding influence, honestly. he's helped to keep Revan from falling apart much further than she might have if he wasn't there to offer her a steady guiding hand

[simply-reylo]

I LOVE THIS 

reylo parallels with revan x bastila shan

credit: @theboywhocan11  - see their original post here

[choco-glow]

Just One Yesterday

“Commander…Master…um…” The scarred man in the dark, hooded robes, his mask laying in his lap, chin resting on his gauntlet, glanced up over his knuckles and quirked an eyebrow, dark eyes bloodshot and exhausted…And the young Jedi gulped. “I um…Master…Master Oteg wishes to speak to you?” He only nodded, waiting for the young man to scamper off, and lifted himself from the chair, stealing another glance back out at the stars. It had become a comfort to see the stars outside the clear bulwark; three long, horrific centuries he’d been held in that prison of body and mind, and yet, the stars had changed little in all that time.

He left his mask hanging on his belt (Mandalore’s mask, a dozen lifetimes ago, made his when he’d fought back the Clans, when he’d first fallen…) and made his silent way through the ship, footfalls as light as the wind on Manaan. The meditation chambers were…oddly comforting, and Revan breathed in the rich scent of the vilian flowers, their crawling vines hanging heavy all about the room. It smelled like Dantooine, like home; Tython had been the ancient home of the Order, long ago, and he’d been there once upon a time as a young Padawan himself in distant, blurred memories, but Dantooine was far stronger in his heart, far fresher in his memory…and stolen moments with his friends, his crew, had made the pastoral planet a home that before, he hadn’t had.

“You are so much stronger than me, and you returned from the dark side. I too can do the same, with your guidance, Master Revan…”

“Maybe you’re smarter than I thought, taking advice from an old man like me…been a long while since I came back home…Don’t make my mistakes, young’un.”

“Kinda nice place, reminds me of Telos, of home…Y’know, you’re the first real friend I’ve had that cared about what happened to Morgana and Dustil…”

“Check it out, Big Z! This place is pretty cool…Let’s go up there! C’mon, Zaalbar, let’s go explore! You can eat later!”

“Arrrghh, rrraagh rrrrrh!” *

“Heh, never thought I’d get a taste for the quiet life, and yet, here we are…aliit ori'shya tal'din, Jetii.” **

”I…know you can’t possibly forgive us for what we’ve done to you…and I won’t make excuses for it. But I’m glad you’re back. I really am…”

“Master Revan Shan.” He blinked, shaking his head free of the voices, long, long dead and gone, and found himself staring down at a very, very familiar face…and he swallowed. This Master Oteg…he could have been a dead ringer for Master Vandar, but Vandar Tokare was dead, betrayed on a far away planet long ago, and a sudden surge of homesickness and sorrow flooded Revan’s heart and mind…And the kindness he felt through the Force, through Oteg’s aura, undid him completely. It pushed away the darkness he felt in his very soul, and he reached for it, for the Master before him.

He collapsed though, tears streaming down his face, and for as small as the older Master was, now Revan was the pupil before him, prostrate with grief and longing. The elfin creature, his wrinkles marking his age, his green eyes soft, laid a gentle, clawed hand on his shoulder and drew him close, comforting the broken man as though he were his own Padawan. “Oh my boy…for all that you’ve a century on me, you’ve been so lost…” He wept, unashamed, three long centuries of death and despair and Vitiate’s claws in his mind, and Revan clung to Oteg through the storm of emotions, until the winds finally faded.

“How…how did you know my surname? No one knew I took Bastila’s name…she wanted it that way, and I didn’t dare risk our babe…All I had of her was the dreams and our dyad, our bond…and even then, I couldn’t look too hard, for fear of him…” He whispered when the sobs eased, when he managed to speak again, his voice hoarse and aching, and Oteg hummed, patting his hair with a gentleness that Revan didn’t feel he deserved…but he accepted it gladly, desperate for any sort of contact. It was a parent’s touch, and he closed his eyes, leaning into it.

“Bastila told me. Well…not in person. Not the way she wanted to. But she did tell me about you…and her love for you.” Revan’s heart ached at that, but he eased back, rubbing the tears off his face and taking a long, deep breath, letting it out with a sigh. “As for the rest…I know what was done to you. What you lost in memory, and in your life. Very many do know the basic facts…and the rest, much like many other legends deep in the galaxy, have myths to lean heavily on. But we in the Jedi, and even a bare handful of Sith, know the truth of who and what you were after the Masters erased your memory…but we don’t know who you were before that. Much…was lost, both accidentally and otherwise.” Revan nodded, lips twisting a little with anger.

“…I have a few memories. Vitiate…well, I won’t say he kept me sane, because he…nothing that was done in that hellish fortress was sane. But there was one Sith, a pureblood, who had no name as we know it, but he knew me. He knew me very well, and he knew how to retrieve memories, even those thought to be erased…and in return for my aid in influencing Vitiate’s mind, he helped me retain my sanity…and regain some of my loss. Not all of it…I don’t know my old name, nor my birthplace, or even my true age. I don’t have a birthday…but I have the memories of the Star Forge, how I got it rebuilt, how I used it…and how I fell.”

“And you have Bastila.” Revan closed his eyes at that, tears burning under his eyelids, and oh, he had Bastila…those memories, the dreams he’d watched over her in, with Scourge’s help, he’d kept from Vitiate, kept everything from the monster in regards to his son, to his heart, to his friends…Carth had lived on, Mission and Zaalbar had survived. Juhani, Canderous, Jolee…Even HK had survived. Teethree…He ached at the loss of the little droid, that night he lost Meetra too, and a touch of the Force soothed his grief, Meetra’s ghost giving him that one last lingering gift yet still.

“…My friends and my love. But…They are gone now, long gone. What can the Council ask of me now? I’m a broken husk of what I once was…” He murmured, meeting Oteg’s eyes once more, though tears still burned down his cheeks, his scars aching as much as his heart. Oteg only smiled, and with a gesture of the Force, brought over a set of tea cups, and a kettle, still steaming from the range nearby.

“For now, they ask me to heal you, as much as you can bear; of heart-wounds as much as the Force-depletion and literal physical wounds you’ve endured too. And they ask you to rest; even with hyperdrives, it’s a long, long way back to Tython.”

“…Not Coruscant?”

“No. For one, the Jedi Temple is still in ruin there, from the war, and for another, I will not allow the Senate to inflict itself on you. Tython is not Dantooine, and sadly we’ve not rebuilt the enclave on Dantooine for many reasons…but it is largely safe, and the Order is many, many more Jedi strong now. There is darkness there…but I trust you. As does the Grandmaster and the rest of the Council.” He blinked at that, and when Oteg offered him the fragrant tea, thankfully not from Dantooine, Revan managed to even sip it a little, rolling the strange, interesting spices on his tongue. It wasn’t the same…but different wasn’t bad, either.

“…I appreciate that. I truly do. For now…the rest…it is very deeply needed. I hope…perhaps I may be allowed to lay out a bedroll here? The vines…remind me of home.” He swallowed the rest of his statement, and Oteg smiled, broadly now.

“I don’t mind in the slightest, but I have a spare bedroom too, with the vines inside as well. You’re welcome to rest there as long as you need to. Dantooine was under my watch for many years, and I grew these vines for much the same reason Bastila did; for the comfort they brought me. The tea is a healing herb from Tython, with a bit of root from my favorite spot on Alderaan to gather flowers and other plants, and will help settle your stomach to handle food that’s more solid than an intravenous line.”

“…Thank you. I suspected I’d be on mush for a while.” Oteg chuckled at Revan’s wryness, and Revan’s lips quirked up, just a little, before he sipped his tea again. The Master shifted away and began puttering about the place, and Revan settled back against the cushions of a rounded lounge seat, tilting his head back and just…breathing. Closing his eyes, with the breeze off the vents, he could just about pretend he was back on the Khoonda Plain, out under the biryan trees, his crew dozing all around him. Canderous snoring, Carth humming softly, Bastila’s soft breathing, her hand just touching his…Jolee’s quiet reading, turning page after page of a well-worn book.

Zaalbar grooming his fur, making the soft little Wookiee noises that one might chitter at a cub, while Mission dozed against Carth’s side with Zaalbar at her back, curled up and breathing so lightly that you couldn’t hear her hardly at all. Juhani practicing her Force manipulation by healing the very earth around her, in apology to her last master and the darkness she’d sought there, and of course, the distant sounds of blaster fire as HK and Teethree hunted for dinner. And Revan, in the center of it all, soaking up the sunshine like a flower that had been buried for far too long, his heart full of light and love, the darkness banished…Another tear slipped over his cheek, and he let it fall, let them all fall, as he gave into the slumber carrying him off into his memories once more.

I love you all so much…I miss you…

A week solid of rest, good food, and healing had brought Revan back to the living nearly completely, and he ignored the hollow ache in his very soul as he stepped off the shuttle onto the first planet he’d seen in three centuries. The Force healing had done wonders for his connection to the ancient power, and already, he could feel the shades of light and dark in the Force on Tython, just as Master Oteg had said. The Rakatans weren’t wrong…I wonder how much of the past the Jedi really know? Because the Rakata Elders had known so, so much…even with as much as was lost, they told me everything…

“Master Revan.” He paused, his mask now hidden behind his breastplate, his hood drawn back despite how it made him feel too visible…and looked up at the man standing before him, a human male with a simple cut to his brown hair and deep lines from what looked to be a near constant frown. He sensed annoyance, no little anger, and a certain amount of frustration at having to greet this particular guest, and Revan smiled, just a little, though there was no humor in it. Let him be angry; he’s not half the fighter I am, for all that I’ve been in stasis for so long, and he damn well knows it.

His lightsabers, saved by Scourge long ago, had been battered and broken, but Oteg had been kind enough to provide him with the tools and crystals to restore them…and Revan had them now on each hip, a purple one…and a red one. He’d hesitated over that crystal for a moment, feeling the weakness in the green, blue, and yellow ones…and finally, he closed his hand around the gem…and felt the Force hurtle through him, tasting the power on his tongue. Perhaps it is too much of a temptation… He hadn’t gotten this far by taking the easy path, though, and he was more than strong enough to handle that power.

Oteg…hadn’t commented on that. Revan found that he was grateful for it. This man, though…Revan bowed, slightly, keeping his attitude to himself for the time being, and opting for aloof and mysterious. There was a darkness here that seeped into the very heart of the Temple; he could sense it, though it was far older than Vitiate, far baser and weaker…but it had survived much in the many, many millennia since the Jedi had left. The ruins at Kaleth are what Oteg warned me about; someone’s been poking where they shouldn’t.

“I am. And you are, Master…?” His tone was perfectly polite, crisp and just a touch of that ‘Alderaanian noble’ air, which had the exact effect Revan intended. He’d had it for years before his fall, and rebuilt it with Carth’s help during their fight against Malek, and after; it served him in good stead now. The man straightened, anger flashing in his blue eyes, and his lips twisted before he spoke again, his voice acidic enough that Revan smiled even more. Bingo. Little prick makes me miss HK all the more. What I wouldn't give for a classic "Meatbags." comment right now.

“Master Jaric Kaedan. This way, if you so please.” He whirled and stomped off, and Revan followed along behind him, his ancient styled robes billowing in a way that seemed to startle the Jedi they passed. Master Kaedan kept a brisk pace, but looked unnerved when he glanced back to find Revan keeping pace with him, hands tucked in a hidden set of pockets, his footfalls just as silent as before on the ship, and Revan’s smirk only grew. Brat. If only he knew the truth…but then, I’ve fallen, and I’m wearing the shadows of what I once was. I suppose I can forgive his anger.

The Padawans and trainees they passed didn’t know what to think of the scarred man in long, tattered black robes; he’d been given the option of clean, more neutral ones from Oteg, but he’d only cleaned his old ones, and pulled them back on, taking comfort in the Star Forge’s armor. Pity my white robes are long gone, because they would have been far better for this, but I don’t want to lose myself yet again, this time in the Jedi once more.

The great room with the enormous Force-driven rotating holocron in the middle was oddly calming, and had Revan a minute to spare, he would have lost himself in watching it, drinking in the healing calmness of the Force that radiated from the enormous dodecahedron. But Kaedan was too fast, and Revan bit back his annoyance, following the impatient man to the Council doors. There, he opened the smaller entrance door, ushering Revan inside…and for the first time in a long time, Revan stopped dead, his mind reeling at the sheer power contained in the room. Oteg really meant it…Atris had betrayed the Jedi, evil bitch that she was, she decimated us…but this…

Hope swelled in his heart, for the first time in…well, centuries, and Revan eagerly stepped forward, feeling his fear and anger melt away, joy making a smile touch his lips as he made his way to the Masters lined up before him…

SLAP.

The blow struck him perfectly from the handsome woman who stepped up to him, her long braids still swinging from the gesture, blue-gray eyes furious, and Revan brought a gloved hand up to his jaw, moving the joint to make sure it wasn’t broken. He studied her, eyes wide, shock freezing him in place, and he swallowed, a sinking feeling in his gut now.

“…You…look awfully familia-”

SLAP. The second slap had a stinging burst of power behind it, and it knocked Revan off his feet, tossing him back with an ease that made his heart absolutely drop into his boots…and he gazed up at his descendant with a gulp, shrinking a little under the gaze all Shan women perfected long before they reached adulthood. He could see where time and DNA had changed the look of her, but those eyes, those eyes were all Bastila’s legacy, and Revan felt another pang for the woman he’d loved so much, and the son he’d never known.

“…Shit.”

“You selfish son of a bitch, you’re damn right I look familiar. I am Grandmaster Satele Shan, of the Jedi Order. And on behalf of my great-grandmother, I deliver this message.” She snarled out, eyes flashing, all sense of calm lost in a sea of anger…and she held up a holocron…no, a Noetikon. A Noetikon that Revan hadn't ever seen before...but he could feel the power stored within it deep in his very soul. Revan’s eyes widened as a figure appeared, all in the soft blue of the hologram…but he knew that face, that body, those eyes anywhere.

“…Bastila?” He whispered, and she gazed down at him, her expression a mixture of sorrow and anger…and reached out a hand to him. He couldn’t take it, knew he couldn’t feel anything…but he reached for her too, his whole being yearning for her.

“Revan…” She murmured, and he choked on a sob, fingers closing on air and light, fighting to keep his composure before all these strangers. Oteg had been safe, had known many of the surviving masters, had even been mentored by Jolee…and he’d known Revan’s true self. These people didn’t. “…you know, I had a whole rant saved up, after all this time, how you abandoned us, how you left me without an explaination, how you were so damned selfish…”

“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry…I was selfish, I was a selfish bastard, and I deserve everything that I’ve been punished with…but I didn’t want to see you suffer more, and I couldn’t trust the Council…I couldn’t trust anyone but Carth, Jolee, and Juhani to keep you and Vaner safe…and I needed the others to keep each other safe, as best they could, and live the lives they deserved. Atris…I saw what she was becoming…”

“I know.” It was so simple, so poignant a sentence, and he froze, heart in his throat, eyes wide. “In uploading my consciousness to this Noetikon, enough to reason and think, I was also able to listen, to learn…and to understand. I’m still angry with you…but I love you enough to forgive you. You knew just how powerful Vitiate was…even if you didn’t remember entirely, you knew he was coming back. You knew…and you fought back the best way you knew how, but you had us to protect…and you were right. I was in no shape to fight alongside you, and neither was Jolee in his old age. Juhani and Carth gladly would have, and could, but…you were right again there.

“Had they left us, Jolee and I would have been found. Vaner…our little boy, he would have died…But he built a family of his own, and they continued that proud tradition, defying the Order in the one way that mattered to all of us…we chose love. I never regretted that…I never regretted you. I still don’t.” He drank in that forgiveness, those words, and laughed, aching, but real, blessedly real, when she chuckled a little. “I’m still mad, but I got over it pretty well, I think. Our children’s children, however, you’ll have to earn their forgiveness.”

“I…suspected as much. Bastila…I know this isn’t the same as a Force Ghost, nor are you entirely you, as you were…but I love you. I love you, and I am sorry…and I hope, I hope that matters at least a little.” The hologram smiled, soft and sweet…and winked out, leaving Revan to blink up at his descendant, confused and heartbroken…when a soft, ethereal voice filled the room, and it was Satele’s turn, along with the other Council members, to go wide-eyed in shock as they started at something behind him. Revan breathed in the scent of vilian flowers and a touch of leather, his heart leaping now as he slowly stood, turned…and there she was, not the older woman in the hologram, mature and long into her life…

“It always mattered.”

But his Bastila. His beautiful wife, her ponytails a little messy, her old robes shabby from sparring and exploring, her smile blinding in its joy. She was a ghost, that much was certain; the glow made it obvious, and though she had color in her skin and hair now, her clothes were a pale gray…he knew from experience that a ghost could only project so much. But when he wrapped his arms around her, she was firm to the touch, her curves fitting perfectly against his angles, and he buried his face in her shoulder, breathing in the scent of her with a shaky breath.

“Revan…”

“Bastila…”

“I can’t hold this for long…but the power here is enough to give us this.” She whispered, and he brought his head back up, pressing his forehead to hers, hugging her tight.

“It’s enough. It’s enough for me, to see you, hold you…” He murmured back, and they clung to one another. He augmented his power into hers, willing her to stay, just a little longer, and she relaxed in his arms…And it was Master Oteg, wise, good Master Oteg, who ushered the rest out of the Council chambers, letting Revan guide his beloved back to a small loveseat at the rear of the chamber, the two of them curling up together. They spoke of their son, a lifetime of memories that Revan had seen only in her dreams, of their grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, of Tasiele and Satele, and Theron, Satele’s SIS agent son.

Time became meaningless once more for Revan, for Bastila, for both of them, and when words began to fail them…they simply let their hearts say the rest, slow kisses and touches bleeding into one another. But their time was growing short…Revan could feel her slipping back into the Force, feel her strength waning…and when she gazed up at him, the color draining away, her eyes growing sad and weary…Revan kissed her, soft and sweet and lingering.

“It’s alright, love…”

“I have missed you so much…it’s too cruel that we only get this…” She murmured, and he tucked her under his chin, wrapping around her the way she wrapped around his waist and chest, hugging her tightly as he could.

“It is too cruel…but we were never graced with much luck, were we, my heart…” He whispered back, his voice hoarse from the long hours of talking, and the tears.

“…No, we never were. But we had one another…” He smiled at that, and she glanced up, smiling back. Revan touched his forehead to hers again, and Bastila sighed a little, fingers tightening in his robes, his chestplate and back armor long banished to the floor. “I love you, Revan…”

“I love you too, Bastila. It’s alright…you can let go…I’ll follow you soon. I promise. I…there isn’t much of me left, despite what they’ve done to heal me…” He whispered, and she opened her eyes, those gray irises just as captivating as the day they’d met on his flagship, all those long years ago…and when they met again, him fresh off the swoopbike and her fresh out of a fight, the two of them angry and a little in love already.

“…I’ll be here for you. Always.” She murmured, resting one hand on his heart…and with a sigh, she became nothing once again, the warmth of her hand lingering still over his heart, the touch of her lips still on his…and the scent of vilian flowers filling the air. He stared into space for a long, long time…and when he rose again, he buckled on his armor in silence, and with a gesture, opened the doors to allow the other Jedi to come back in. But before he turned…he took out his mask, and stared down at it.

The long lines of red and black, the smoky visor; he’d worn it when he went after the Emperor, after augmenting it with as much tech as he could to keep the monster from infiltrating his mind. But that hadn’t helped him when Meetra was murdered, when Teethree was cut down…and though he hated Scourge for what he’d done, he knew it was on Vitiate’s orders. And he knew too, could sense it, that the Emperor still held power, even now. …I cannot be a Jedi again. Be it my own darkness, or the taint of the Emperor’s mind, there is little of the light left inside me now…and he still lives outside the Force. His power is too much for these young Jedi to handle…But I know it well.

He knew it better than any other, Jedi or Sith, even the Emperor’s Wrath, and he knew too how he could destroy Vitiate. Forever. I suspect I know what they will ask of me…and yet, I have so much more to do. I cannot leave him to continue destroying the galaxy…But I will hear them out. I owe my Bastila, and my descendant, that much.

Revan donned the mask once more, fitting it with ease, and turned, crossing his arms as he planted his feet, his voice deepening as he spoke.

“Grandmaster Shan, I believe you had a task for me…”

[tessadoesstuff]

Run It With Love - Chapter 6

Day 6 - Revan 

(Sorry this is late, forgot to post on tumblr!)

A non-linear story of Bly, Aayla, and Quinlan in the time of the Knights of the Old Republic games (about 3,800 years before the prequels) designed to be read without any knowledge of that game or time.

First Chapter!  Previous Chapter!

The first time Sam ever remembers hearing about Darth Revan, it was during their escape from the crashing ship where their memories begin. The words echo and stick in Sam’s head, and Sam has no idea why.

"That smack to your head did more damage than I thought. Bastila's a Jedi. She was with the strike team that killed Darth Revan, Malak's Sith master. Bastila is the key to the whole Republic war effort. The Sith must have found out she was on the Endar Spire and set an ambush for us in this system. I believe Bastila was on one of the escape pods that crashed down here on Taris. For the sake of the Republic war effort, we have to try and find her."[1]    

Sam knows, deep in their soul, that those words are important, that they’re the key to something.

They’re not Sam’s first memory from after the amnesia. Their earliest memory is from twenty minutes before, being shaken awake in a bunk in the crashing Endar Spire . The man who had apparently been their bunkmate filled Sam in as quick as best they could, but Sam felt detached from the whole incident until Carth said those words.

On the surface, those words are what caught Sam, and drew them into this grand adventure. They led Sam to their partners, to Carth and Bastila, who quickly became two of the most important parts of Sam’s life. Those words set Sam on the path to find Bastila on Taris, which led to them being bonded in the Force. That bond became the key to Sam being trained as a Jedi, and the quest to find the Star Maps.

Which brings Sam back to Revan. The quest for the Star Maps which comes from visions they share with Bastila, visions of Revan and Malak hunting for the same Star Maps years ago.

At the end, Sam’s journey begins with Revan, and when they find the Star Maps to guide them to Malak’s weapon, this chapter of Sam’s journey will end with Revan too.

---

Bastila Shan has been tied to Revan as long as she can remember. When she first came to the Jedi Temple as a child, Revan was there. When they were just younglings, Bastila has been told they were briefly inseparable. Bastila doesn’t remember that so much, she just remembers when Revan reached a point when it wasn’t cool to have a little kid hanging around all the time. They had a fight, and Bastila stopped seeing Revan after that.

But that didn’t mean her ties to Revan were broken. Revan would always haunt her every step.

After her friendship with Revan ended, Bastila became fast friends with Lucian Draay, and whenever the other boy came to the temple, they would study together. However, as they grew, the world became tormented, and so did their friendship. The war that had taken place just before they were born, the war against the Sith Lord Exar-Kun had killed Lucian Draay’s father, and left him and the rest of the Jedi scattered and afraid. Lucian was always afraid of the return of the Sith. Bastila knows now he was likely even right, but at the time it seemed ridiculous.

When Revan began to speak out against the Jedi’s stance of neutrality in the budding Mandalorian Wars, Lucian protested, dug in his heels, and began to speak out about the return of the Sith. When Bastila confessed that while she supported the Jedi’s neutrality, she believed the Mandalorians a larger threat than the Sith, she and Lucian fought. She stopped seeing Lucian after that.

Lucian denounced her as a Revanist, despite the fact that she swears she wasn’t one.

Despite being called more and more a heretic by higher ranking Jedi as Revan continued to argue for the Jedi to go to war, Revan was still the brightest padawan of the generation. As Bastila progressed through her studies, she was surrounded by examples of the excellence of her childhood friend. Bastila was talented, and as such was constantly measured against Revan in every class.

That stopped when Revan left.

When Revan and Malak took most of their generation to go fight in The War alongside the republic, Bastila stopped hearing the name ‘Revan’ around the temple. At least, for a couple of years. The masters disapproved, and they were afraid that more of their ever shrinking group of padawans would follow Revan to war, that those who went off to war would fall the way so many had done during the war with Exar Kun. Bastila listened to the Masters and tried to forget all about Revan then.

The Masters were right to be concerned.

When the Republic won the Mandalorian Wars, Bastila thought Revan would finally come home. She remembered her best friend from childhood, the friend Lucian had never been to her, she saw that now. When Revan came back, she had promised herself, she would fix what had been broken.

Revan didn’t come back.

When Revan and Malak disappeared with more than two thirds of their forces and the Jedi that had been with them, the temple once again lit up with talk of Revan, of Revan’s disappearance. No one had any idea where they went, or how to bring them home again. Sometimes there were rumors of either Revan or Malak being seen around the outer rim, but they were never more than rumors.

It would have been better if they never came back from their hunt for the Star Maps.

When Revan did come back, it was as a fallen shadow of Bastila’s old friend. Revan wore a mask of steel and commanded armies that destroyed the Republic and terrorized its people. Revan came back as a Sith Lord. The Jedi council turned to Bastila, with the Battle Meditation ability she had crafted over her life. She was their only choice. She had to kill Revan.

Revan killed the others who went with Bastila, and for a moment Bastila wanted to do the same. Bastila refused to let the dark in then.

These days, Bastila keeps having visions of Revan’s lost days. Sam has the same visions. Bastila worries what that means. Revan hunted the same Star Maps, and now so do Sam and Bastila.

These days, Bastila holds the lovers her teacher told her she should be above having, holds Carth and Sam so very close, and tries not to think about Revan at all.

---

Carth Onasi has never met Revan. During the Mandalorian Wars, Carth was just a lieutenant, while Revan was functionally a general. There was never any reason for them to cross paths. But Revan was a brilliant strategist. The men and women Revan fought alongside won nearly every battle they engaged in, and Revan single handedly changed the tide of the war. Carth admired Revan during those days. The thought now makes Carth sick.

Carth used to think Revan was some sort of hero. A grand warrior who came out of a dangerously uncaring or even corrupt Jedi order, but who managed to rise above it to fight for what is right. Carth knows better now. The dangerously uncaring one was Revan. Who betrayed them so easily, who talked others into betraying  everything they’d known alongside them.

When Revan had left, over half of the Republic’s soldiers had gone too. It disgusted Carth; he couldn’t understand it at all. What Revan had done to earn that loyalty from so many? To earn that loyalty from Saul?

When Revan left, Admiral Saul Karath had gone with. Before that, Saul was Carth’s mentor, his friend, his confidant. And when Saul betrayed the Republic for Revan and Malak, he betrayed Carth to Revan and Malak.

After the desertion, Carth was promoted to Saul’s position. And when the desertion was revealed to be a betrayal? Carth led the battle against the new Sith Army, fighting throughout the outer rim. And so, Saul told Revan and Malak where to find Carth’s family.

Malak and Saul went to Telos IV together, and they destroyed the planet. Bombarded every city, every town, until there was nothing left living anywhere. That bombing  killed Carth’s family. Killed his wife and son. Killed Morgana and Dustil.

It was Saul’s fault, it was Malak’s fault, it was Revan’s fault.

As Carth holds those who now have his heart, clings to Sam and Bastila, he swears that he will kill Saul with his own hands, and that Saul, and Malak, will never touch them.

And yet, the ghosts of Revan remain.

---

Canderous Ordo has knelt at Revan’s feet, and has starred up from the ground at the cold steel mask Revan wore. It was Revan who brought the Mandalorian Neo-Crusaders’ war against the Republic to an end, who put a stop to their conquest. It was Revan who demanded Mandalore’s unconditional surrender, and who claimed their weapons. Revan destroyed Mandalore.

Canderous does not hate Revan. Canderous respects Revan.

How can he not? When it came down to the end, the war between them was a battle of strategists, Canderous leading his warriors and Revan leading the Republic’s soldiers. When it came down to it, Revan had been willing to make the sacrifices and take the chances that allowed for the Republic Army to outmaneuver the Mandalorians, even when no one else was willing to give the orders to do so.

And in the end, when Canderous had crossed blades with Revan, Canderous had been soundly defeated, unable to so much as scratch Revan’s mask. How could Canderous not respect that strength?

Canderous has heard that what truly led to Revan’s death was a betrayal from the inside, from Malak. Canderous can believe that. No matter what Revan did, Canderous knows that Revan will always be the greatest warrior and tactician Canderous ever encountered.

---

Juhani knows that Revan was a bad Jedi and was an Objectively Bad Person. But still, Juhani can’t make herself forget.

Juhani knows that she will never forget how Revan saved her during the Mandalorian Wars, how Revan inspired her to finally leave Taris and go to Dantooine, who gave her the dream of becoming a Jedi.

Juhani will always remember her life on Taris, growing up hated by the humans who held all of the power, and the feeling of her family being the only Cathars on the planet. She knows she was shaped by her childhood as a refugee in the gang-ridden Undercity. She is haunted by the murder of her father, and the way her mother’s life faded out slowly after that until Juhani was alone.

When Juhani’s mother died, Juhani barely had time to make arrangements for the body before the Exchange came. Juhani will never forget the moment the big enforcers told her of her parent’s debt, or the way they took her afterwards.

Juhani can’t ever hate Revan because Juhani can’t ever forget the feeling of standing there, waiting to be sold, only for Revan to lead the Jedi to interrupt the sale, to save her. Because even though Revan never took off that mask, Juhani knows that Revan smiled at her.

---

To Jolee Bindo, Revan is just another page in the never-ending chain of Sith. An interlude between Exar Kun, Jolee’s first chapter, and Malak, Jolee’s current chapter. Revan isn’t even a particularly notable page - Jolee missed Revan’s entire life during his stay in Kashyyyk’s Shadowlands.

From what Jolee has heard and seen though, Revan was nothing special. Revan was just another Jedi, then just another soldier, and then was just another Sith. Jolee has seen hundreds of Jedi, Thousands of soldiers, and more Sith than he cares to count.

People talk about the shock of Revan’s betrayal as though Exar Kun had not done the exact same thing 50 years prior. They talk about the way Revan convinced other Jedi to desert, to fall, as though Exar Kun did not do the same thing first. As though Exar Kun did not convince Jedi to fall in far greater numbers, as though he did not lure away even the best of the Jedi, as though he did not lure away Jolee’s Nayama.

The galaxy talks about what Revan has done, about the people they know betraying them to follow Revan, as though Exar Kun did not inspire the same, as though Jolee never found his wife’s lightsaber at his through as her eyes glowed yellow.

The Jedi Jolee has encountered since returning from Kashyyk talk about the potential Revan had, how great a Jedi Revan could have been, as though there have not been hundreds of Jedi with great potential who never lived up to it. As though Zayne Carrick, Andor Vex, or Shad Jelevan were not padawans with equal potential who did not live up to their greatness the way they were expected too.

Jolee sees how the galaxy talks about how Revan was a brilliant tactician, how no one could outthink Revan, but he’s suitably underwhelmed. He remembers how Krynda Draay out-thought Exar Kun, how she rose up from loss to lead the Republic to victory.

Jolee Bindo never met Revan, but he remembers what came before Revan, and he will remember what comes after.

---

To Zaalbar, Revan doesn’t stand out. Revan is just another human in a galaxy of humans. Zaalbar never even heard the names of Revan or Malak before he left Kashyyyk. If the tales of Revan were told on Kashyyyk, it would be simply added to the list of terrible humans Zaalbar’s father once carved.

Revan was just another human slaver. The only difference is that Revan went after his own people rather than just the Wookies or the other sentients who don’t look like them.

To Zaalbar, Revan is nothing remarkable. The remarkable ones are those who are on board the Ebon Hawk with him, the ones who welcomed him as the family he has longed to have for so long.

---

Mission heard of Revan just once when she was a little girl, before Griff left. She heard of Revan in hushed tones, murmured between the people of Taris, after the destruction of the temple. The Jedi temple that had once been the pride of the governors of the planet, before it had been destroyed in order to chase the Mandalorians from Taris.

After the taxes were raised in the undercity so the governors could build an even more lavish temple to replace it, in hopes of drawing the Jedi back, that was when Mission first heard the name Revan. She learned that Revan was a champion of the non-humans of the galaxy, and that Revan wasn’t there when the temple fell.

Revan came later, to chase out the Mandalorians who remained, or so the stories tell. They talk of how Revan walked through the same filth covered streets they did, who stayed in the same filthy inns they did, who walked for a few days in their shoes.

To Mission and the people of the Undercity of Taris, Revan was a legend, a figure who brought ever so small a taste of equality. Even when the stories the people from the Uppercity told became tainted, talking of a darker Revan, they were considered just another political play by those who lived below. Another attempt to take away the light in their dark world.

Mission believed that as long as she could. She believed it right up until she was aboard the Ebon Hawk , looking out at the destruction Revan’s student rained down. Mission believed in Revan until Revan’s legacy left her one of the last survivors of Taris.

---

Revan first really mattered to Quinlan Vos during an undercover mission on the planet of Dromud Kaas, about six months before he was sent back in time. It was a terrible mission on a terrible planet, largely due to the cultists.

Even nearly four thousand years after the time of Revan, the cult of Revan remained, and Quinlan spent three months undercover in it. During that time, he learned very little, and none of the things he went there hoping to learn. Instead, he learned that many people learn of Revan and view Revan very differently. As Quinlan performed his initiation tasks, he dove deeper into the history of a figure that, while famous at the Jedi temple even in his time, had previously just been another historical figure.

To the cultists, Revan represented balance. The grey between the light Jedi and the dark Sith, given the time that Revan spent as both. They claimed to strive to walk that pathway, neither light nor dark. Quinlan wished that was possible. He didn’t believe it was back then – most of the cultists were deeply dark, and a few light enough that with training Quinlan would label them Jedi. There was no middle grey to be found there, despite their awareness of both.

Now here, in the era of Revan? Quinlan was more sure of that belief than ever before. There was no middle ground here in the galaxy. Those who had once been on the side of the republic were most assuredly not anymore. That did not make them half sith, half-republic, they were entirely Sith.

The same was true for the Jedi who had turned their backs and left their principals and teaching. They did not become grey, they became dark, Sith, the same way Quinlan very nearly had once. If they wanted to be anything but Sith, they would have to work every day to walk in the light the same way he does.

No matter what the cultists of Revan believe, Revan did not walk grey lines. Revan simply walked white and then black. In the force, no one ever managed to walk grey, no matter what they believed or how strong they were.

---

Notes:

1Directly quoting from KOTOR 1.[return to text]

did someone say world-building and foreshadowing? Too bad you get it anyways. Also, a wild Jolee makes his first appearnace.

[politicalmamaduck]

food for the soul

Rey struggles with new food and the knowledge that Kylo Ren is her soulmate.

A gift for @southsidestory in honor of her donation to @reylotrashcompactor‘s GoFundMe. Read it on ao3 here. My deepest gratitude to @southsidestory for her generosity, and to @galacticprideandprejudice for her beta help in making this fic the best it could be. <3

(Please mind the tags.)

The Force works in mysterious ways.

The Force works in mysterious ways, Rey kept telling herself.

She repeated it over and over as she threw up the remains of her dinner, emptying what little remained in her stomach as quietly as she could. The walls on the Resistance’s new base were thin, and she didn’t want anyone to know how much trouble she was having with new food. Finn was away, having accepted a new assignment from General Organa. Poe was busy with the new pilots, including a recovered Rose, who was learning to fly to honor her lost sister. Leia was as busy as ever, and Rey did not want to add another burden to the general’s already lowered shoulders. Food and troops were scarce enough on their small moon, removed as they were from the central hyperspace lanes. They were not far from Crait and D’Qar, but far in the Outer Rim, removed from the Core and the destroyed Hosnian system.

She tried to meditate like Master Luke taught her on Ahch-To, but she couldn’t concentrate. She was shaking, whether from the lack of food or from the knowledge she couldn’t process, she did not know.

At night she tossed and turned, alternating between shivering from cold or burning up, sweating in a hot flash. She was aware that her body needed time to adjust to new climates, new environments, but even on her hungriest days on Jakku she never hated her body so much for betraying her.

And beneath the physical struggle was the mental, spiritual, emotional. The turmoil in her stomach compared to the battle she waged with her own mind.

She managed to close the Force’s bond between them on Crait, but after delving into the ancient Jedi texts with the help of C-3PO, R2-D2, and BB-8, whose memory banks she slightly altered, she now knew a deeper truth.

The Supreme Leader of the First Order was her soulmate, and his fate was indelibly linked with her own.

The Force works in mysterious ways.

Rey was so hungry the next day at dinner that she ate nearly everything in sight, then spent the evening throwing it up again, just like the day prior.

As she lay in bed again that night, once more unable to sleep, her thoughts drifted across the galaxy. Somehow, she knew he couldn’t sleep either. Putting him out of her mind once more, she resolutely determined to visualize the island, to feel the salt spray on her skin, to breathe deeply and become one with the Force. She would find her balance again, she just had to keep trying.

She finally fell asleep, her thin blanket tangled around her legs, her throat sore from throwing up, and tears crusted in her eyes.

As a child Ben Solo read ancient Alderaanian love poetry and dreamed of the day he would find someone he could love as much as the poets loved their muses. They yearned for their soulmates the way he yearned for his parents’ attention. As he grew older, he gave up on the idea that he would be his parents’ first priority, but dreamed of writing Alderaanian poetry for his soulmate.

Kylo Ren barely thought about his parents, his soulmate, or Alderaanian poetry. When he did, it was only to lament how he never truly possessed that which he wanted. The Supreme Leader was too busy for such trifles anyway. He had to deal with the interminable Hux every day, and an endless litany of problems. The First Order had invested most of its capital in the Supremacy, the Fulminatrix, and Starkiller Base, and all three were gone, destroyed by the Resistance, which they in turn failed to destroy. Flames of rebellion had lit across the galaxy, and there were not enough competent officers to control and put out the fires.

At night he struggled to sleep as he always had, but his dreams were queer of late. He dreamed of Rey, no longer at peace on her island, but ill, in bed and shaking.

She had not appeared to him in his waking hours since Crait, but he knew it was only a matter of time. The Force worked in mysterious ways.

…

It was Rey’s third day of eating to make up for everything she had lost the night before, then voiding it in the same fashion, when she heard a voice behind her as she knelt in the refresher.

“You can’t keep doing this, Rey, and you know it.”

It was a voice she thought she would never hear again, that she thought she had closed herself off from; the last person in the world she wanted to see.

Her soulmate.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” she said, not looking behind her, but only down at her own reflection in the toilet.

“I know,” he replied, more gently than she expected. “But I’m here whether I want to be or you want me to be or not. The Force isn’t done with us.”

“I know,” she responded, getting up from the toilet and washing her face and hands. She caught a glimpse of him in the mirror; he looked as exhausted as she felt.

“Rey, you deserve more than this,” he said, at which she finally turned to face him.

“What do you know about what I deserve?” she spat back.

“You’re strong with the Force, stronger than you want to admit. You’re wasted here with the Resistance, hiding, running, pretending to fit in with everyone else. You’re not alone, but you can’t tell them about what happened, can you?”

“Did you tell the First Order the truth?” she asked, narrowing her gaze at him.

“No,” he answered, looking at her, then down to his feet. “I blamed you.”

“Good,” she replied.

Kylo disappeared, looking sadder than ever.

…

I am one with the Force, the Force is with me.

The ancient Jedi library in the Temple on Coruscant was not entirely destroyed by Emperor Palpatine; ever the pragmatist, though he disdained Jedi teachings, he realized the value of such an archive, as well as its utility as bait to trap any Jedi who may have survived the purge.

Ben Solo went there once, with his uncle Luke. It was a sad, desolate place since the fall of the Empire; the New Republic guarded the site, but since Coruscant was no longer the galactic capital, its priorities laid elsewhere, and it was not as well preserved as it should have been.

Kylo Ren knew it would hold the answer to his question, however, and to appear with the support of the citizenry, to do homage to the ways of old on Coruscant would do much for the First Order’s propaganda machine. He hated politics, but his mother taught him well. He hated to admit it, but Hux’s pompous, bombastic speeches served their purpose. He too could play his part for the Order’s greater good. And so he met with Coruscanti officials, appeared in public, all while hearing the Temple’s siren call. It was a temptation, a lure of the Light, but he would do what needed to be done.

It was in the dark of the night, a night that could never truly be dark with Coruscant’s trillion lights, that Kylo Ren howled with rage and would have destroyed the entire chamber in which he was sitting if only his scholar’s heart would have allowed him to do so. The text he was reading was nearly four thousand years old and irreplaceable.

Snoke had lied, as he always had.

He had not created the bond between Rey and Kylo.

They were soulmates, as Revan and Bastila Shan had been before them.

Kylo Ren stalked the halls of the former Jedi Temple, the plundered Imperial Palace, the empty home of the Force, crying for the love he could never have, for the boy he had been, for the galaxy that was as broken as his soul.

…

Rey awoke once more with a hollow stomach and cheeks, aching all over. She could feel profound anguish in the Force, and she couldn’t help but wonder what on earth could have happened to make a man who killed his father and his master and abandoned his family for galactic dominance so profoundly sad.

She sat down in her small room and realized again that she and her soulmate were not so different after all.

She ate breakfast slowly, carefully, sipping on some Gatalentan tea and spent the morning meditating and training. She felt the ghost of a sparring partner dancing with her in the training room, matching her blow for blow, aggressive, tenacious, and powerful. Her equal in the dark and the light, her counterpart, at once her strongest enemy and closest friend, the one who knew her secrets. She knew his body as intimately as she knew her own, his mind was open to hers, he was her soulmate and she was his and they were one, just as they were in Snoke’s throne room.

The Force flowed through them, buoying them despite their exhaustion. They drew on its depth and on each other, swinging their blades ever more gracefully, ever more intensely, testing each other, learning from each other as they had twice before.

It was a song, a dance they both knew all too well. He would strike there, and she would strike there. Their hearts, their breathing, their movements perfectly in sync, complementing each other even as they fought for dominance.

Rey was the predator, and Ben Solo her prey. Here, she saw no hint of the darkness that followed him, no pretense or vanity. Here, he was hers, and hers alone.  

…

Kylo Ren returned to the Finalizer without sleeping. After he left the Temple on Coruscant, he went hundreds of levels down to a seedy, dark cantina filled with various species and as many smoke hazes to match. The liquor certainly wasn’t top shelf, but it was cheap and burned the way he liked it. An Aqualish bounty hunter made the mistake of attempting to pick a fight with him after Kylo had downed a few drinks, and soon the cantina floor obtained a few more bloodstains and the proprietor obtained a few more credits.

Upon his return, he swept Hux and the other generals out of the way with the Force, and let loose in a training room until he was laying on the floor, drenched in sweat, his vision swimming. He was exhausted, but could not sleep; his body was too full of nervous energy, and his heart raced from his training. He looked up to see Rey also practicing her forms.

He joined her deadly dance, with her through the Force in the way he could not be physically. Their blades met over and over, casting purple lights on the floor and walls and deepening the shadowed hollows under their eyes.

She was as thin as ever, but looking better than she had the last time he saw her. Her fighting had certainly lost none of its intensity. She pursued him as she had on Starkiller, as she fought Snoke’s Praetorian guards. She was an angel of death and destruction, and he had never seen something so beautiful, so perfect, so deadly, in all his life.

The ancient Alderaanian poets could not compare with Rey of Jakku whirling his grandfather’s rebuilt saber in the darkness of a decrepit Resistance base in the middle of nowhere, across the galaxy from him.

He swung low, towards her waist, and she parried his blow, spinning away from him.

They stood, breathing heavily, looking at each other, not saying a word.

Rey faded away from him, and Kylo Ren sat up on his training mat, covered in sweat.

…

That night, Rey was able to eat a manageable amount at dinner, and kept it all down. She felt refreshed after stretching and showering before bed, and slept the whole night through, dreaming of the island, the porgs cooing to her and the scent of saltwater.

She dreamt of a lover’s kiss, of a gentle hand undoing her buns. She felt desire curling her toes and pooling in her core, of a body entwined with hers, a heart beating with hers, lungs breathing with hers.

She awoke feeling relaxed and at peace for the first time since Ahch-To.

…

Kylo Ren hadn’t slept a whole night through since he was a child, if ever.

That night he collapsed in his bed almost immediately after stepping out of the refresher, feeling exhausted from the day’s events and those of the day prior.

He dreamt of Rey, at peace on her island, reading ancient Jedi texts. He dreamt he was writing Alderaanian poetry once more, reciting it to her and his mother. He taught her the ancient braiding art, plaiting her hair in honor of her Force sensitivity and to show that she was the partner to the heir to the throne.

He awoke the next morning, and ordered his ship readied.

He had never been to New Alderaan. He wasn’t sure how to get to Rey’s island, if she would ever share that information with him. She was still in the middle of nowhere with the Resistance; his nightly dreamscape visits to her had not revealed their location. But he was sure that the mountains and balmy blue skies of what should have been his homeworld would help him obtain the peace he sought, even without her by his side.

He thought Rey would like it there, if she ever chose to visit.

She would find him again; she always would. She was not yet ready to accept his offer from the Supremacy, and he had to find his own peace. They had accepted their truth with their last duel, and he had no doubt the Force wasn’t yet done with them. 

[exemplaries]

@mvchinery​:

meetra turns at their name, brows furrowing at the expression on the other woman’s face. for a moment, they can’t think of any reason why she would look like that other than the lingering pain of their force presence — & then it clicks, quite impossibly. she could be — she could be from their time. she could know them.

they aren’t sure if that’s more exhilarating or terrifying. because they don’t recognize her from the revanchists, can’t place her face, & they know that none of the jedi would have had anything kind to say about them. they reach out tentatively with the force, a light brush, grateful to find that they don’t feel any hatred coming from her. it’s not enough to drop their guard, but — it’s a small comfort, at the very least. meetra will take what they can.

“i came through the rift. i’ve been here for three years,” they say slowly, eyes flickering across her face as they study her expression. “i joined the rebellion.” general surik, always at war. you could place meetra in an empty room & they’re half certain that they could still find something to fight. “i’m sorry — who are you ? “

revan & atris’ names make their blood run cold in their veins. the force curls tightly around them, new connection & old death both, defensive. not for the first time since they found themself in this new era, they wish they had a lightsaber, if only for the comforting weight of it in their hand. atris … atris had been the first on the council to condemn them. they still remember the look in her cold, cold eyes, a sharp contrast to the young girl who had once idolized them so. & revan — they had watched their brother become a monster. what kind of person would have spoken with both ?

“the last i heard, revan was invading the republic.”

 “oh.” she murmured, the reality of what meetra had said clicking into place, sinking into her bones. oh. and here she thought she’d missed much. the former jedi had no clue of revan’s redemption, malak’s defeat - nor of how desperately revan had wanted to see her again, to apologize, to right the wrongs the jedi council had done in exiling her when she had been the only one not to turn, the only one with the strength to come back. 

bastila would have been a child still when meetra was pulled into this world, her battle meditation barely tested in combat and her name unknown beyond the jedi. no wonder the exile had been unable to recognize her. not that she had expected her to, but there was some part of bastila that had longed for recognition, longed for an immediate click and bond of two kindred and close souls finally meeting, and here of all places and times. 

“revan did invade the republic,” she begins, choosing her words carefully, attempting to surmise four years of history in just a few moments. “with malak at his side, they pushed the republic to their breaking point.”

“but then, after three years of war, revan vanished.” her gaze grew distant, recalling the fight aboard his flagship all those years ago, the focus she’d felt in that moment, and the fear she’d felt when realizing the bond created between them. “to the galaxy, he was dead. but the jedi remade him, reshaped his mind.” i remade him, i reshaped his mind. the guilt of it all remained, even now. “he was placed back into republic service as a simple soldier.”

she fidgeted with her clasped hands, absentmindedly tracing gentle circles on her thumb, lost in thought, in memory. “he survived against all odds, and became a jedi again. became good again. and when the time came, he faced malak and killed him.” and saved me, she left unsaid. 

“i worked alongside him in his quest for redemption.” she settled for instead. i was to be his wife seemed like too much of a shock amidst the rest of what she’d just explained, and she didn’t much like sharing personals anyways, although she had a feeling that she was going to have to soon. 

“my name is bastila shan.”

“meetra?” 

bastila’s face holds her shock plain and clear, her common neutral facade crumbling away in an instant at the sight of the other woman. she’d never met the other jedi before, but her force signature was clear, distinct. and besides, she’d heard enough stories from revan and her master - the former admirable, the latter spiteful - to recognize the figure that passed by her. 

she can feel her heart begin to race, hands shaking every so slightly with the adrenaline of seeing someone else from her time. especially someone so close to revan, to her friends, to the jedi. she’d still held out hope, but she hadn’t expected it to be here. to be now.

“how are you here?” a childish question, she knows, correcting the moment it leaves her mouth. bastila thinks before she speaks - or, at least, tries to - but in this moment she is all impulse, all emotion. something atris certainly would have scolded her for, had she been here. although, considering who stands before her, it’s far better that she is not. “i mean, when? how have you been?”

it is only then that she realizes their distance. although she’d heard stories of the exile, she doubted the other had heard the same about her. as far as she knew, she hadn’t had contact with revan since the wars - at least, before bastila had been pulled here. “i’ve heard so much about you. although revan and atris gave far different accounts.”

@mvchinery​

[luxettenebra]

so I have a habit of tagging characters Revan has strong feelings for, one way or another, and here's the ones I have for the Ebon Hawk crew and a few select ones from her time as a Jedi, because I am very fond of some of them:

steady rock (Navree Ry) exasperated sighing (Alek) steel-jawed betrayal (Malak) mother of a few dumbass kids (Arren Kae) almost friends (the Exile) playing favorites (Atton Rand)

soul bond (Bastila Shan) forgiveness (Carth Onasi) fallen idol (Juhani) mission accomplished! (Mission Vao) self-imposed exile (Jolee Bindo) Mandalore's Finest (Canderous Ordo) assassination protocols (HK 47) slicer extraordinaire (T3 M4) honor bound (Zaalbar)