Title Revan's Requiem
Author InferiorBeing
Pairing(s) future DSMRevan/Carth, even more future GSFExile/Canderous
Rating: PG-13
Warnings homosexuality/heterosexuality, Dark Side Revan, Gray Side Exile, somewhat graphic sci-fi violence
Disclaimer: One would think that the fact that this story is being put on a fanfiction internet site would imply that I don't own it...
Misc. AN: I want to just state now that I love all the characters from both KOTOR games. I don't (and therefore won't in this story) bastardize any of them (just in case anyone was worried). I like the personalities they were endowed with, and I'm going to try and keep them as close to cannon as I can.
Summary: A "What-if?" scenario. What if the Jedi Council had failed to tamper with Revan's memories? What if his General had, in fact, been Mandalorian by birth herself? The game… but changed a bit: A Sith Lord Revan works to regain his empire, despite Jedi hindrances, and a newfound appreciation for Republic pilots.
Please note: 'Revan's Requiem' is the first book of three in the "Symphonic Trio". It covers the events in the first Knights of the Old Republic game. As such you will note that the conversations follow those of the game as closely as I could follow them while still staying true to my plot changes. Also, they borrow from both the female and male Revan conversations, as my Revan is a homosexual. The second book, 'Nocturn of Exile', will follow the events of Knights of the Old Republic: The Sith Lords. The third book, 'Canticle of War', will cover what happens after the end of KOTOR:TSL (I'll be making it up at that point).

Revan's Requiem

Prologue: The Beginning of the End

His eyes were a blood red as he glared at the metallic monstrosity on his wrist. A snarl escaped his lips – a Force inhibitor. In a bracelet.

And he loathed jewelry.

At least it was of simplistic design. It wasn't jeweled, or ornate… yet, it still existed. It stood between him and… oh, so many things.

Revenge.

Freedom.

He could no longer tell which he desired more, with most of his Force powers hidden beneath the control of this flimsy device. Yet he needed two hands free to remove it, which was something he did not have. What was worse was that he knew the Jedi reveled in this fact.

The Dark Lord Revan brought so low.

Perhaps revenge and freedom were the same, and he had just never realized.

With a sigh, he replaced his hand into the folds of his robes. This was one problem he would not solve this night. Though he would solve it soon. Then the Jedi, and his former apprentice, would pay.

The soft mull of conversation had long since faded in the small cantina of the Endar Spire. It must be the second shift already. Most of the normal crew and the Jedi accompanying Bastila would be asleep by now.

The Dark Side blessed him with small favors it seemed. He was in no mood for one of them to be following him around. Always with their condescending attitude or, worse, trying to make him 'realize' that the Dark Side would destroy him.

As if he didn't already know that.

One did not become a Sith Lord by being oblivious. The Dark Side was a dangerous playmate – he knew this. But he also knew how far one could push the Dark Side before it began to recoil. And he would never push beyond that limit.

Malak would. And that was why he was allowed even some small amount of freedom where the Jedi were concerned.

His lips curled into a sneer. Apparently destroying his mind was less important than killing his rampaging former apprentice.

There was only one other occupant of the cantina, Carth noted, as he entered the room. It was one more than he had expected. And it was one of the Jedi – not one of the normal crew.

That was odd. None of the Jedi he'd ever interacted with drank.

Not that he'd interacted with many Jedi, but… well, the point was still valid.

As he crossed the room, he could feel the eyes of the Jedi arch up to look at him. Sometimes he wondered how Jedi could develop such weighted stares, and how the stare had the same power even when the Jedi's eyes were hidden.

He'd seen this Jedi before, and yet he knew the least about him. Not that he knew much about any Jedi – but at least he'd seen what the other Jedi looked like.

This Jedi wore the full Jedi ensemble ALL the time. No matter what was going on. And he wore the hood of his outermost robes up ALL the time as well. He never spoke. Carth only knew that the Jedi was a he because his name had been listed on the crew roster as Mars Almasy.

So, of course Carth had no idea why it suddenly seemed like an incredibly good idea to go have a drink with the guy.

Well now, Revan thought. Perhaps the Republic isn't as much of a waste as I thought.

And, thankfully, the Force inhibitor had not destroyed his persuasion abilities. It had hindered them, certainly, but he'd always been skilled in subtly – or not so subtly – influencing the minds of others. Perhaps he couldn't proceed with the same speed he was used to… but he could still get to the same place. It just took a bit more time. Besides, he could use a bit of a distraction after all he'd gone through since Malak's betrayal.

And, of course, what the Jedi didn't know, they didn't need to find out.

Carth flashed the other man a friendly smile as he sat down next to him. "Didn't know Jedi drank."

"Oh, we do. We just don't like to tell anyone. It tends to ruin our reputation."

The voice was not what Carth had expected. Slightly tinged with humor, the words oozed from underneath the hood like a trickle of blood from a wound. Carth had never been a very poetic man, but that was the only way to describe the almost sinful voice.

Still, he seemed more human than any other Jedi Carth had ever met. After all, who ever heard of a Jedi cracking jokes? Especially at the expense of the Order.

Bastila wearily raised a hand to her temples as she continued down the corridor. It had been a long time since she'd been this exhausted. And on top of that, she'd lost Revan. He must have slipped out during the change of shift. Which meant he'd been on his own for half a shift.

What could Revan do with all that time to himself? The Council had specifically ordered them – her! – not to let him out of their sight for a minute, much less half a shift!

Revan was unpredictable. He'd proven that much when, despite the efforts of the entire Jedi Council, his mind had resisted their attempts to take away his memories. He could, truly, be planning anything. If not for taking away his lightsaber, if not for the Force inhibitor, he wouldn't even listen to the Jedi, much less help them – no matter how compatible the idea of destroying Malak was for both Revan and the Jedi. If he had figured out how to get rid of that Force inhibitor he could have easily acquired a lightsaber and–

-decided to get a drink?

Bastila stopped short outside the ship's cantina. She was sure Revan sensed her outside the window, but he did nothing. Perhaps he was truly drunk? There were certainly enough bottles scattered around him on the bar to suggest that he could be. But this was Revan. He wouldn't allow himself to get drunk. So did that mean that his companion had drunk most of the liquor?

But… he was sitting with Carth Onasi!

Bastila's eyes narrowed. Now why would Revan approach Commander Onasi? Perhaps he was plotting something. She'd never seen Carth chatting and laughing like that. It just didn't seem like the Commander she'd read about and then worked with for three weeks. He'd never let loose like that around her.

Revan was definitely up to something. The Force inhibitor was obviously not hindering his powers as much as they had thought it was.

Still…

Bastila pressed closer to the edge of the doorway and watched the two men inside the room. She would step in when necessary.

Mars's laughter was as sinful as his voice, yet strangely infectious. Carth didn't think he'd laughed this way in a long time. Then again, he hadn't been this drunk in a very long time.

Mars stifled his laughter as he concentrated enough to levitate another bottle towards them. "Split it with you," he offered, already filling his own glass.

"If I have any more, you'll have an unconscious soldier on your hands," Carth responded.

Mars shrugged and began to drink.

Carth watched for a moment, thinking. "Never thought a Jedi could out-drink a soldier of the Republic."

Mars paused, taking the glass away from his face – which was still covered by the hood. "Well, I'm not most Jedi." The glass was empty as he set it down lightly.

"Mind if I see who isn't 'most Jedi'?" Carth asked.

Mars paused again, before he shrugged. "If you want."

The first thing Carth noticed as the hood was removed was that Mars didn't look like most Jedi. His skin was too pale to be healthy – an almost sickly white. His hair was a deep purple, almost black, which was pulled into a loose ponytail and disappeared underneath Mars' robes, hiding its true length. But Mars' most striking feature was his eyes. They were a deep wine red with a starkly black pupil and glittered in amusement as his lips curved into a sinful smirk.

"Not what you were expecting, I take it?"

"Not at all."

The door to the cantina slid open and both men looked up as Bastila entered the room. "So this is where you've been, Mars."

Something flickered beside him, and Carth turned to see Mars' teeth bared into a snarl before they were again hidden beneath the hood.

"I assume you needed me for something?" The question was drawled and insulting, as if Bastila was a little child who couldn't tie her own bootlaces.

"Yes," Bastila answered before turning to Carth, as if she was used to Mars speaking to her in that manner. "I'm sorry to interrupt, Carth, but it is urgent."

As Mars followed Bastila out of the room, Carth turned back to the unfinished bottle. Maybe he had drunk too much. Jedi wouldn't act like that – would they?

Bastila struggled to keep her voice low and calm as they walked back towards the Jedi quarters. "I don't know what you thought you were doing, Revan, but it will stop now."

"Revan?" the lilting voice taunted. "Don't you mean Mars?"

"That doesn't matter at the moment. I want your word that-"

"I'll sit quiet? I'll stay out of trouble? I'll kill my former apprentice and then come meekly back to the Jedi Temple so you can continue experimenting with my mind? Don't delude yourself."

"That wasn't what I was going to say!" Bastila sputtered. But it had been what she had been thinking. Yes, the Force inhibitor wasn't set at a nearly strong enough setting for Revan's level of ability. "I was going to say that I want your word that you won't go off on your own again until we find Malak."

"You won't get it," Revan sneered. "Besides, what worth is the word of a Sith Lord?"

Bastila sighed as they reached Revan's room, centered in the cluster of rooms that had been assigned to the Jedi. "Very well," she said as she palmed open the door, "and stop fiddling with the Force inhibitor."

"I haven't been fiddling with it!" Revan hissed. "I already tried to take it off. And failed, as you well know."

"You lie very well, Sith Lord."

The wrist around which the Force inhibitor was attached was shoved in front of her face, as if it were unshakable proof. Smiling sweetly, Bastila thumbed the side.

Revan hissed in pain and cradled the wrist to his chest. Bastila fought off a twinge of sympathy, knowing that it must be agony for him to have the Force completely ripped away. She pushed him into his room and locked the door behind him.

The walls muffled his screams.

When the pain finally dulled to a bearable ache, Revan picked himself up from the floor. The room, the re-circulated air, even his body, felt empty without the Force. Slowly, he lay back on the small bunk and glared at the door.

"That was very Sithly of you," he murmured, exhausted, at the Jedi whom he knew no longer stood there. "I won't underestimate you again."

The sleep and the dreams which overtook him were as empty as he felt.

The first jar of the ship woke Bastila, even before the alarms began to ring with blaring efficiency. As she moved toward the door, the ship shuddered again. The ship was under attack.

But even more importantly, the Sith had found them.

Though she was no master yet, her senses were developed enough to allow her to feel the evil that had crept towards them while she slept. There was no mistaking a Sith warship, especially not when one was Force sensitive.

The alarms had done their job; not one person was left asleep on the Endar Spire. But it would not be enough, Bastila quickly realized. They had been caught too unaware, too unprepared for an attack. The Sith would be sending boarding parties soon to seize control of the ship.

All this she realized with calm clarity. She knew what had to be done. She had to get off the ship and escape to the nearest planet.

Then, of course, she remembered Revan. Malak could not find out that his former master lived. Not yet, at least. She had to get Revan off the ship.

Revan paced his small quarters, frustration and anger building within him. While he welcomed such emotions, he cursed that he had no outlet for them.

None. The Force inhibitor was doing its job well.

And without the Dark Side, his options were pitifully limited. The Jedi were not complete fools; they had left him with no weapons, and had even denied him sharp edged tools. The door was operated completely from the outside, so he could not even try to coax the door open by sabotaging the lock. Apparently they remembered some of the skills he had acquired during the Mandalorian Wars.

He shot the door a grim look as the alarms increased in frequency. They had already progressed through the different sirens from 'attack warning' to 'fleet ambush'. The only alarm they had left to run was the one signaling complete evacuation. But he knew that they'd be rounding soldiers to the escape pods whether or not they played it.

The Sith must have found them, and – if there was one thing he would not allow – he would not allow some snot-nosed Sith apprentice to drag him before Malak while he was wearing the Force inhibitor.

His grim look settled into a glare, and he faced the door with renewed vigor. He had learned more than just how to pick computerized locks during the Mandalorian Wars. The Mandalorians themselves had taught him that sometimes it was best to simply use strength instead of cunning.

Revan's door smashed open as Bastila neared it, spilling the Dark Lord onto the floor as it fell.

"What do you think you're doing?"

The Sith Lord slowly got to his feet. "Making sure you didn't decide to leave me to be captured by the Sith."

"I would have opened the door," Bastila chided.

The Sith shrugged, looking down at the shattered remains of the door. "That is no longer a problem."

"But – " The alarms intensified again in volume and Revan tensed as they both recognized the change. The Republic code for 'evacuate' sounded. "Fine. We have to get to the escape pods now."

As always happened when she gave him an order, Revan's shoulders squared and his posture stiffened. But his words were not the haughty rebuke she had grown accustomed to receiving. "Take the Force inhibitor off and let me end this."

"What?!"

"You wanted me to kill Malak, and Malak must be here for the Sith to have managed such a successful ambush – one even you did not sense until it was too late. You brought me all the way out here from Coruscant so that I could fight Malak- give me my lightsaber, give me the Force, and let me go do that."

"That is not how we were told to conduct that battle and you know it, Revan."

"Situations change during war, Bastila! You cannot always follow plans sent by a leader who is not on the battlefield at that exact moment! If my General in the Mandalorian war had done that, I would have lost. Now is one of those times when we must adapt. Let me go kill Malak; worry about your Jedi plan later!"

"Until you are no longer a Jedi prisoner, Revan, you will follow the orders of the Jedi Council. We will get to the escape pods and regroup away from the Sith fleet." Bastila's words were as fiery as Revan's, and he drew back for a scathing reply as more explosions rocked the ship.

"Mars! Bastila!"

Revan's words died on his lips as Carth rounded the corridor. "The Sith are sending boarding parties of Dark Jedi by the dozens. We have to evacuate."

Bastila nodded meaningfully at the Sith Lord opposite her. As usual, he did nothing to reveal that he'd even been looking in her direction. "Come on, Mars." When he didn't respond, she grabbed his arm, and dragged him along as she and Carth made their way to the escape pods."

In hindsight, Bastila would berate herself that she should have suspected he would try something. He was far too docile as they made their way through the ship, even matching her stride! When the ship shuddered under what must have been another blast, or the arrival of another enemy boarding party, he stood firm, allowing her to steady herself.

He caught her completely off guard when he shoved her into the escape pod, and it was only her Jedi instincts which moved her hand to block his attempt to grab her lightsaber. His snarl was barely audible over the din from the sounds of the battle, as he stepped back and viciously slammed his palm over the escape pod controls. His smirk was triumphant as the hatch closed and Bastila was sent hurling towards the surface of the nearest planet.

She realized with a sinking feeling completely unrelated to the gravity of the nearby planet why he should feel triumphant. She had been ditched – well and truly ditched. And his plan had been two-fold, as well. Had he managed to take her lightsaber… well, she didn't even want to think about what Darth Revan would do if he had a lightsaber – the first of which could very well be destroying the Force inhibitor! And, although she had managed to successfully block him from getting her lightsaber, it was enough of a distraction for him to activate her escape pod and get out of it.

She could only hope that one of the other Jedi had caught up to them by the escape pods so Revan wouldn't be able to get away. But she knew it was a vain hope.

"Quick! Get into the other escape pod. I'll run a scan of the ship to see if there are any surviving crew members," Carth called from a computer terminal.

For a moment Revan debated reprogramming the escape pod so he could get to Malak, but dismissed the notion. He was still weaponless and without the Force.

But he wouldn't be soon.

He settled down into the escape pod and began to plot as it hurtled towards the surface of the planet. The readings on the escape pod told him the expected destination planet was called Taris. He didn't truly care what planet it was – any one with reasonable technology would suffice. Somewhere on the planet there would be someone with the tools and the knowledge to get rid of his bracelet problem. And once he had the Dark Side again as his ally, Darth Malak – and indeed all who had turned on him – would suffer his wrath.

Darth Revan braced for the inevitable impact upon the surface of Taris with an insane fire in his eyes and beatific smile upon his lips.

to be continued

status: beta'd by Hell's Bell