Awake

Raw, unrefined words are clumsy things, uneven at the edges, crudely shaped, tasting strange on the tip of the tongue. But the Dark Lord forges them into weapons.

I stand at Darth Revan's side on the dais, my arms held stiffly at my sides, my eyes focused impassively on the gathering beneath us. Rows upon rows of identical imperial uniforms line the Rakatan beach, stark gray against the dying scarlet swath of the sunset, a colorless slash between sky and sea. Behind the officers, there are the soldiers. There is nothing to set one soldier apart from the next. The columns of Sith armor flash silver, the sharper edges gleaming a bloody red in the half-light.

The first time I stood on this dais, named before all the Sith Empire as the chosen apprentice of the Dark Lord, the cheers of the crowd made my pulse rise in my throat. Afterward, when I receded to my private chambers in the Rakatan temple, my breathing came short and fast. Revan found me there, settling beside me on the small bed. They are only pawns, Bastila, he told me. They are nothing to those like us. Like you.

Today, I observe the crowd without fear. I feel the solidity of my will in my fist, like a sphere of dark energy, and imagine it enfolding the crowd, pressing down on them, making them kneel before my command. A smile lifts my lips, and I think Revan must see it, for he glances absently in my direction. The mask of Mandalore the Ultimate hides his face even from me. After a moment he looks away.

Then he opens his mouth, and even in the vastness of the throng, I swear all cease to breathe.

The speeches of Darth Revan never fail to mesmerize me. He speaks of a privileged remnant, a dark power birthed in shadows, a brilliant dawn of conquest and resurrection. He names the worlds that have already fallen before the durasteel fist of the renewed Sith Empire: Taris, a black tear in the fabric of the galaxy; Dantooine, a swirl of galactic dust; then the proud forests of Kashyyyk, the desolate deserts of Tatooine, the fathomless oceans of Manaan, the archaic crags of Korriban.

There are other worlds in the list, as well, but soon they all swirl together. Like individual notes in a symphony, they become a single entity. My heart rises into my neck, pounds at the back of my throat.

"This is our age," Revan says, and only then do the cheers begin to ripple through the crowd. Hypnotic. Savage. Consuming. "Now is the day when the Sith Empire will seize its greatest prize, its most honorable victory, the throne of the galaxy. Now we shall conquer the Core Worlds."

The throng roars.

My breath hitches, and I don't know why.

"Tomorrow, it begins," Revan says, his voice effortlessly riding over the crowd, the crest of a wave over an ocean of faithful followers. "Tomorrow, we conquer Talravin."

Talravin.

One word, and I am a child again.

I am in my father's arms, breathing the scent of pine needles that lingers on his hands and in his rich, brown hair. I am listening to my mother's lullaby beneath a sky alight with stars, stars, stars. I taste the wild air, feel the soft earth between my bare toes. I laugh, a high clear sound that startles the birds, and they wing away in a flutter of color, gone into the distance.

Revan does not look at me. For the first time, I am glad of it. A single tear traces the pale, pale skin of my cheek, and I wonder that eyes such as mine – eyes turned to sulfurous yellow by the taint of the Dark Side – might still produce such a delicate, crystal tear.

I wipe the tear away with the back of my hand. No others follow. It is all well and good; a Sith apprentice does not cry.

I look again at Revan's mask. When others look away, I wonder, does a stray tear stain the metal?

~x~X~x~

A/N: Thank you for reading this, truly. This may or may not be updated in the near future; I'm writing a YA high fantasy novel but the words there aren't flowing, so I took a break and kept the writing muscles alive with some fanfic. If the book starts flowing again, I may leave this for a while; if not, expect an update soon.

Please review. The Force favors those who do so. ;)