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the-tomato-patch · 11 months ago

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The Hand that Needs You - Chapter 1

Summary:

"Scourge had left with little notice outside of a single message sent to his Jedi. A single note left on her datapad for her eyes only, and though his words were as melodramatic as ever, she knew he had meant every one of them. Though they did little to ease the burden in which she faced now knowing that he was somewhere, out there on the brink of wild space, having told her nothing of the situation save for his belief that this would keep her safe." In which a Jedi dearly misses her Sith.

Relationship: Jedi Knight x Lord Scourge ( established relationship )

Word Count:

2.7 k

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52621306/chapters/133104271

'Know that you can always expect this of me...'

Scourge had left with little notice outside of a single message sent to his Jedi. A single note left on her datapad for her eyes only, and though his words were as melodramatic as ever, she knew he had meant every one of them. Though they did little to ease the burden in which she faced now knowing that he was somewhere, out there on the brink of wild space, having told her nothing of the situation save for his belief that this would keep her safe. It was this belief that had kept him from bringing her with him, the protection that he sought to achieve at such a cost, and this fact was what angered her most. Scourge had decided to shoulder this burden alone. Deemed it as something that she should not assist with. And that truth, like all truth she wished to deny, made her want to rage. To tear something apart with her bare hands. Rhiasen wished, not for the first time, and not the last, that the old Jedi beliefs ingrained upon her in her youth would just die, if only so she could more easily grasp this new unfamiliar rage she now felt. Rage, passion, love, despair. She wanted it all.

This rage was unlike in battle, where she could channel her frustrations with Force itself to serve her as a shield, to drive her saber. Where she could channel the destruction she dealt to release herself from the energy boiling her soul, until the tension finally released. To drive the wedge of her heated saber through the flesh of a foe with righteous fury. The battle, as always, would make Rhiasen forget about the anger momentarily. The rush of adrenaline would slow until she had defeated her target and moved on. Moving as though time had slowed down around her, using the Force to deflect bolts, slice droids in half, and separate pieces from her enemies. And at first this chaos around her seemed uncontrolled but Rhiasen found her way. Her peace was in the motion, her moments of control and chaos, her bliss was in the time lost to combat. Passion tempered by meditation, honed in training.

But this rage came not from hatred or born from jealousy. What plagued her now was frustration and love combined, so contradicting each other yet still perfectly fitting together like the pieces of a complex puzzle. This kind of rage demanded no physical target. A mind could not be severed, a droid could not be crushed. Her path, at last, seemed more unclear. No light or dark to push towards. No resolution of battle before her, no safety in retreat. Scourge was somewhere out there, searching for the answers that they could have sought together, had he just asked. Had he just bothered to consider that he no longer needed to shoulder all his burdens alone. But Rhiasen supposed old habits die hard. Her Sith was, in his mind, shouldering the bulk of this threat before it had a chance to come closer, just as he did many threats before as the Emperors Wrath. Scourge, she assumed, had only acted on that natural impulse, driven by the urge to protect their budding relationship from the scars of the past, as was only natural when someone believed that their very future hung in the balance.

To Scourge this threat was a puzzle to unravel, a game played out across the stars that only he could solve because of some unknown factor that had come into play. He could sense that threat to them and the Alliance, a conflict just over the horizon and it was this need to find that problem and pull it apart at its seams that drove him towards the distant stars. Whatever his desire was, the danger it posed to the future both he and Rhiasen were now chasing, had compelled him to do all of this. To leave her without a word. Even if this was necessary. Even if it was for their future, his pride got the better of him. This pride. A pride of a broken man, forced to crawl on his belly for years under the cruel heel of a tyrant. Who now, upon finally finding the sliver of joy to call his own, who he believed to have been within his reach, felt it slipping. This was not to be allowed, not by a warrior like him. And he was gone.

So Rhiasen meditated and her emotions swirled and crashed within her with all of their familiar might, until the fire calmed to a gentle glowing spark and Rhiasen came out the other side more aware of herself than before. And her head was more clear for it, and the power she held at her disposal felt as though it lay open for the taking.

For a while she bore the brunt of her emotions. Ruminating on them in the silence of his quarters, sleeping amidst ebony sheets that carried his scent. Ocassionally expressing them to those she deemed her closest: Kira, Lana and Senya. She would speak about these issues of frustration and angst, at length and all the others listened. They even comforted, and eventually it was decided by Kira in a rather blunt fashion to pull Rhiasen out of her thoughts. She told her outright that "He'll be back. I mean it's Scourge and he's..." Kira paused in thought and tilted her head side to side, "You know, he's.. Him, and he's gone to do Sithly things or whatever, but he knows what he's doing."

To which Rhiasen agreed though not in words, and instead let a smile curve the edges of her lips. The thoughts she did not share were about the memory of Scourges lips upon hers, their first kiss that had felt too short and yet so overdue. How she missed that.

She wondered just how long her Sith would be gone, and just how long it was acceptable to go without contact before she went out to the far corners of the galaxy in search of him, if for nothing else but her own sanity. Weeks, months, years? Even after such a short time apart it felt like ages had come and gone between them, as though everything they had endured before she had embraced the emotions within her heart, had just been the prologue to whatever it is they were. Would she go after him as Lana had for her when she was festering in carbonite, slowly dying? The concept brought with it a sense of dread for a reason she couldn't understand. But if his absence was to last longer than she deemed reasonable, if she were not to receive some word in the interim, she would pursue her stubborn Sith. That was a promise and damn the fools that tried to stop her.

After enough time Rhiasen ceased to pay much mind to her wandering Sith's absence. Not because the frustration or ache was gone but because there were other things to consider. Always there were more things to do. The Alliance could not run itself after all, nor would it run at the capacity it did if Rhiasen didn't throw everything into the effort. So it was easier for her mind to stray into a new focus, but she would always save a thought for her Sith whenever her duties granted the luxury. For now she wore the mask of commander, a role she had come to occupy with such ease in recent years with all of its duties feeling as heavy as they did familiar. And despite her burgeoning hatred for the title, the burden, and the nature of the lives she'd commanded, Rhiasen pressed forwards to the end of their fight. She would win the day and ensure the safety of those who had fallen in step with her path. That was, she reasoned, worth carrying the burden, not necessarily to the end, but enough to let the worlds keep turning. And then the silence had broken. And his presence returned.

Rhiasen had been far from Odesson, practically living out of her ship like days gone. Working diligently across multiple planets, Voss, Ord Mantell.. She had been so lost in her duties she had missed the transmission coming in. It took another day before her message beeped at her. Another day without acknowledging it until the reality of the moment hit her hard enough. Finally, his name on her comm. After this silence? She pressed the button in a rushed blur, barely remembering how to respond and only hearing a ping in return as a message had successfully been sent. At her earliest convenience she made leave for Odesson, forgoing missed opportunities, and gave no apology for the interruption of her actions. No one had challenged her decision, or had been privy to why she had reacted with such urgency.

At least, not to her face.

Rhiasen arrived in the hours of twilight, as the day settled into dusk. In the place of an eternal night, with the sound of insects droning, and the cool breeze whispering secrets through her hair, she left the brisk air behind to enter the compound. Lights brightened her way in, a reprieve from the dark beyond, and her stride slowed when she felt the prickle of his presence in the Force. And, upon finding it, her resolve was set in stone. This anger that had festered, the frustration and impatience, all of it simmered to a low boil. It had changed to something else. More anticipation, apprehension.. Emotions were mingling together in a kaleidoscope of hues. Colors. The sound of her footsteps became less defined the further she made her way into the Alliance base. Nothing else registered beyond the focus on her goal, the turn of a corner as she rounded another passage, following that presence with a dedication to rival the relentless pace of the tides.

At last, Scourge.

He stood under the night sky, upon a balcony he favored for brooding and watching the stars, standing as tall and regal and infuriatingly aloof as ever. Though a difference did exist in how he carried his frame. When she had last seen him before his mission his stance had been sharp and demanding. Hard edges. Deep angles, cold and unwelcoming to all but those that knew him best. Scourge had taken a particular pride in maintaining the mask of indifference the years spent without passion had ingrained in him. Now he was here and he looked tired. It was in the laxness of his shoulders, in the furrow of his brows, and in the tilt of his head as he leaned his weight forward with one hand placed firmly on the guard of the railing. It had been a long time indeed, for the both of them. And though she had yearned for this reunion she still approached him warily, as though a touch might make him disintegrate.

That hesitance lasted but a moment. In the blink of an eye it had vanished and next Rhiasen was closing the distance and wrapping her arms around him from behind. And his mask broke. Scourges rigid frame sagged downwards with relief. No trace of the imperious nature he often wore. She held him like that for a while, head rested against his spine. Just breathing, reveling in the proximity. Savoring this moment that felt so right, the naturalness of it that defied the very laws that bound them to these forms. It made it all worth the wait.

Then he turned to face her completely, slowly shifting away from the railing, and the space between them had suddenly become nonexistent. Her arms stayed draped around him as if it were instinctive to do so and she wanted desperately to speak but every question she'd prepared in her mind had scattered. All that she was capable of doing was staring, feeling that fiery gaze of his that threatened to ignite her blood with its intensity.

And Scourge knew how he'd affected her. That was so painfully evident in his eyes. But her lack of words did not offend. They didn't need to say much at this point. Scourge was returning the embrace, firm and desperate as though to ensure she wouldn't escape. To have her near him, to hold her, it was as though he could feel a crack of light passing through that impenetrable wall of his. As though a taste was given and suddenly that sliver of taste wasn't enough. Now his hunger demanded an eternity to quell itself. Rhiasen felt his arms squeeze a little harder, so she too pressed her body against his. One of his hands drifted up her back to grasp her by the shoulder, where he applied enough pressure to lean her into his chest, forcing her face to look up towards him. Rhiasens chin rested against his chest, staring upwards into his burning scrutiny. And that grip moved up and caressed along the side of her neck and to her face. His fingertips curled and traced a path along her skin as if mapping her every detail.

Scourge drew his face closer until their foreheads touched, until they both breathed each others air, brushing noses with a gentle gliding motion. Her eyes had fallen shut. She was basking in the aura of his heat, the warm gentle and rhythmic pace of his fingers pressing into her skin. Then he dipped lower and laid the bridge of his nose over her cheekbone, nuzzling, moving along until their lips met with a fierce degree of tenderness. The last of her frustrations shattered and her fists were gathering the cloth of his black robes, pressing closer. He did not hurry the kiss. It was slow like the strokes of his hand, as if she were to be handled delicately. Something so very precious. Scourge parted his mouth to her, allowing access which she took eagerly. Passion flared within her, stoked by the gentle strokes of his tongue and the caress of his hand, slow and sensual.

A delicate dance. A push and pull. Push her passions until she had nowhere to hide them. Pull back until that hunger had been built into a crescendo of want. Again, she was gripping him hard, seeking to bring him even closer. It still did not suffice. Their lips broke away from one another and the brush of his thumb swept across her cheek and for the first time in months, Rhiasen felt completely calm. It had not been erased. Rather it had been dissolved, replaced by an aching need for closeness. Need for this to never end and for him to not vanish from her life, not again.

"I need you." He said so desperately, raw, in a voice laden with so many years of unfulfilled longing. It broke her to hear the rare slip of his control. Not to his fury or anger but in his capacity for vulnerability. To reveal that place where his heart, a heart withered and hardened, still beat. And he bore it with the same indomitable certainty with which he walked into battle.

"You have me, always." She whispered back, not hiding her emotions. They were fully transparent for him to see. Anything else she felt after were too conflicting, too complex to find the appropriate expression.

Scourge gave no more words. Just a quiet hum and another brush of their lips, as though saying so much for so little effort. A slow series of lingering kisses that felt both feverish and calm, like the duality of water. Its bubbling white foam, chaotic and energetic, colliding fiercely with stone, caressing its rugged surfaces with reverence. The balance of passion with tenderness. The pace was entirely his creation and Scourge orchestrated it, playing Rhiasen like a fine instrument.

When he parted again she barely managed a surprised gasp of breath as he swept her off her feet and into his arms. Rhiasen locked her own around his neck to keep from losing her balance. Such a quickness, such power in his grasp. In the midst of another kiss she felt like his to command, to fulfill his desires in any way he saw fit. A rush of heat curled in her gut at the thought. This close, watching his face and seeing just how hungry he was, she knew at once they wouldn't make it much further than the sanctity of his quarters. And she found herself absolutely fine with that.

#swtor #star wars the old republic #swtor fanfiction #fanfiction #lord scourge x jedi knight #this has been sitting on my pc for awhile but i wasnt happy with the first draft and wanted to update with more relevant update info #not that its more than one line really #smut will be in the next chapter #prepare to scoop your eyeballs out of your head and die from cringe #angst with fluff and then smut

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