Author's note: this story is based on Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic, one of the finest RPGs ever created. It is told from the point of view of Bastila Shan, the main female NPC and a fascinating character, as well as the male PC's love interest.
Comments and suggestions are welcome. I hope you enjoy.
"There is no emotion, there is peace."
"A…a kinrath pup?!" I demand, my eyes wide in indignation. "It most certainly is not!"
He—Revan—hides a grin. "Mmhmm."
"I am a Jedi, remember? I have far too much mental discipline to reveal what goes on inside my mind with such obvious physical clues."
"Well," he says a shrug, "You keep staring at me. See anything you like?"
My jaw drops. "What--?! You—you are easily the vainest, most arrogant man I have ever met! Besides," I add haughtily, "I know you can't be serious, since I was purposefully NOT staring in your direction." Hah. That will show him.
I blink. Wait a minute…
From across the room, Carth sniggers. I fix my glare on him, and the pilot goes into a coughing fit.
"It's okay, Bastila," Revan says brightly. "I think we both know the real reason you've been watching me." He makes an exaggerated wink.
"I—that is…" Unable to find the words, I stamp my foot at him. Childish, I know, but the man is absolutely, positively—
"…infuriating! You men! Is it impossible for you to set aside your ego and…" I force myself to stop and take a deep breath. Deeeep breath. "No, I will not do this." Inhale. "There is no emotion," exhale, "there is peace." I glare at him.
He just flashes a wide grin at me, dimples offsetting his strong jaw. Something in my stomach flutters. He is impossibly infuriating, true, as well as being incredibly stubborn and on occasion immature and he makes the most exasperating comments, inane, really…
…but he is also confident and kind and powerful, and thus far a paragon of virtue and the light. Someone I can look up to and be impressed by, someone who I can strive to follow as a worthy leader, admire as a person…and, perhaps, be a bit smitten with as a man.
Who would believe that this, then, was the Dark Lord of the Sith?
----------
"There is no ignorance; there is knowledge."
One year ago.
Klaxons blare and emergency lights pulse across the bridge of the dreadnought. The Dark Lord's flagship has sustained massive damage from a full frontal barrage.
I raise my head from where I have fallen and see Malak's vessel, the Leviathan, accelerate away and then blink into hyperspace. So the apprentice fired on his master. Such is the way of the Sith, and the reason that they will never triumph. They have no concept of honor, or loyalty, or love.
A strangled cough brings my attention to the present. I ignore my aching body and turn to see the source of the noise. My eyes widen.
Darth Revan is crumpled on the ground, blood pooling beneath his visor. As I watch in morbid fascination, he shifts his head. A bubble of blood appears at the bottom of his mouthpiece. He grows still.
Something draws me to him. Perhaps the order from the Council to capture Revan alive. Or perhaps my determination that he should not escape so easily, that he must stand trial to face his many crimes. Maybe it is simply the knowledge that there have been too many deaths in this tragic war.
Whatever the case, I drag myself toward the fallen Sith Lord. My leg is pinned under debris, but a push of the Force and the wreckage is tossed aside. I crawl towards Revan.
Up close, he is terrifying. His cloak and robes are torn, revealing intricately designed body armor carved with runes and sigils of power. The armor is shattered and smoking.
Another bloody bubble. He is alive, but just barely. I feel his presence in the Force waning, a roaring fire reduced to a tiny, sputtering flame; a candle in the wind.
I hesitate before unlatching his mask, expecting at any moment that he will suddenly grab me, that those cold steel gauntlets will close around my throat and snuff out my life.
Nothing happens as I fumble around and find the release. The mask hisses gently, then allows me to pry it away. I am shocked by what I find.
I don't know what I was expecting, but certainly not…this.
The Dark Lord of the Sith is not an ancient, wrinkled monster nor a hideous beast. He is surprisingly young, barely older than me. A pale but handsome face is bathed in blood, with a lock of brown hair plastered to his forehead. His eyes are closed.
His breath grows shallow and I know I must make the choice now. And I do.
There, in the midst of the screaming klaxons and dying screams from all over the ship, I let myself sink into Darth Revan's soul.
I encounter horrors so dark and torturous that I reflexively jerk away. Even unconscious, his mental defenses batter at me with the force of a thousand hurricanes. I am tossed to and fro within the rolling storms of his mind.
I begin a hasty retreat—there is nothing I can do in this hell. Blackness latches to my soul and threatens to suffocate me.
But there in the distance, I see something that gives me pause. A tiny light, overshadowed by all the darkness but still visible. I swim toward it, every nerve tingling and alert.
"Hang on, Revan," I choke out the words. "Hang on."
The blackness drags me down and hinders my every move. I can feel my very being shrouded by the taint in the Sith Lord's body. But slowly, I make my way toward the light. I reach out and clasp it, recognize it for his life force. Once bright, it is now mottled by darkness and decay.
I am too late. I can feel the massive injuries and the internal bleeding. His heart begins to fail. He is dying.
No. I will not allow it.
I reach for the Force, gather all I can of life and light and pour it into him. The Force spreads throughout his body, and I can feel the worst of the wounds begin to mend.
It's not enough, so I give more. And more, and more, until I am drained to the point of exhaustion. But I have succeeded; Revan breathes on his own now. The Master of the Sith will live.
I manage a weak smile and promptly pass out.
----------
More than a year later, I stare at the Sith Lord whose life I saved.
"You're staring at me again, Bastila," he says, jarring me out of my reverie.
"I was not!" The words come as a reflex, even though I obviously am. In fact, I'm still staring. I sigh and bow my head. Here comes the usual teasing banter.
But he says nothing. I look up to see him studying me, concern on his features.
"What's wrong?" he asks. "Is everything all right?"
I look at his worried face and want to shout the words I have been holding back since the moment I met him in Tarsis. "You're Revan!" I want to scream, "Darth Revan, lord of the Sith, mass murderer and would be conqueror of the whole galaxy! You killed millions of people and betrayed the Jedi Council and—and…"
And he doesn't know a thing.
I cannot tell him. Even if the Council didn't forbid it, how do you take away a man's life—again? How do you tell him that his past is a lie, that he was in fact once the cruelest monster in the galaxy?
Best that he never finds out. Best to finish this mission quickly, then part ways and never see each another again.
Yes, that would be best. Leave him to his new life of redemption. No matter if he knows nothing of his true past.
He smiles at me, blissful in his ignorance.
There is no ignorance, I remind myself. There is knowledge.
----------
"There is no passion, there is serenity."
I take in the scene instantly. Revan stands alone before his former apprentice, the current Master of the Sith. No matter how powerful he has grown these past months, Revan is still no match for Malak. I must act.
A wave of the Force catches Malak by surprise and sends the dark lord stumbling into the next room. Another push and I cover the hallway in a single leap, lightsaber blazing.
"I'll hold Malak off! You two get out of here! Find the Star Forge!"
"No, Bastila!"
"For the Jedi!" I slam down the button to shut the blast doors, a move that will leave me alone with the Dark Lord.
"NOO!!" Revan's scream is cut off as the doors seal shut. I thrust him out of my mind to concentrate on the task at hand.
Malak faces me, his own sabers ignited. His jaw is hidden by an iron mask, but I can sense his cruel smile.
There is no emotion, there is peace. My heart pounds at my chest, refusing to believe me.
I charge, my swing already aimed at his neck, at the exact angle where the base of the skull meets the spine, and is thus the easiest spot at which to sever a head.
Where did that come from?
I know the answer as soon as I ask. One of the many things I learned from Revan while drowning in his mind.
My lightsaber crashes against Malak's, yellow meeting red in a blistering shower of sparks. We exchange blows, but he is the Dark Lord of the Sith and I am only a Jedi Padawan. I cannot penetrate his defenses.
He drives me back, his saber biting and lashing into me from every direction. My shoulder suddenly erupts in pain, leaving me a moment late on my parry. His blade drives into my leg and then across my ribs. I stagger and he brings his hilt into my face. My vision swims.
He flicks his hand and I go flying. I hit the wall full force; the impact is like being trampled by a bantha. I feel my arm shatter—my ribs follow—and I let out a sharp, pained gasp before crumpling to the ground.
The Dark Lord towers over me.
I snap my good arm up, all my willpower focused into a blast of Force that should send him into the ceiling.
He doesn't budge.
A whisper of Force and the saber jumps into my hand. Still lying there, I cut at him in desperation. Malak parries my attack with ease, then brings his boot down on my broken arm. My face contorts but I bite back and swallow the moan.
Then he grinds his heel down, digging it into the splinters of bone.
I am not proud to admit that I scream.
His blade whirls above my head, striking the wall several times. Sparks scald my face, but I can no longer feel the burns. With my last remaining ounce of consciousness, I extend shaking fingers to reach for my saber.
The metal boot comes down on my hand. There is a crunch and the world spins in darkness and pain. A choked sob escapes my lips.
"Bastila Shan," the cold, mechanical voice rasps above me. I hear it through a dizzy haze. "We meet at last."
A single thought rises through the blinding agony and my hatred for Malak. Revan will be safe. Knowing that, I can be at peace. No matter what happens.
There is no passion, there is serenity.
Everything goes black.
----------
"There is no chaos, there is harmony."
It hurts…everywhere…
It's dark…cold…it hurts…
I have felt this way before…once…long ago…
When I was eight years old I ran away from the Jedi Council. Yes, I, Bastila Shan, favored student and pride of the masters.
It was…over a pet. I had found a stray pup wandering the streets of Coruscant, and brought him back to my quarters. I bribed and pleaded with the other students not to tell, but the masters found out anyway. The pup was taken away; students were not allowed to form bonds with anything but the Force.
Headstrong and brash, I was determined to run away with the pup and find my way back home. I hated Jedi training, the endless lectures and criticism, plus I missed my father terribly. I freed my pup and stole away at dawn.
We were several hours out of the city, in the middle of nowhere, when I turned my ankle on a rock and slid down the side of a cliff. I landed hard against a boulder, my leg twisted at the wrong angle. I lay there crying as the hours dragged on and night fell and no one came. The pup had long since left me.
The pain wasn't the worst part. It was the uncertainty, the fear that lying in a shallow ditch would be the last thing I would ever know.
A child's nightmare, now multiplied a thousand-fold.
Revan will come. He will.
The door opens. My heart leaps. Rev--
The suffocating stench of evil washes over me before I can complete the thought.
No, not Revan. Sweat breaks on my brow at the knowledge of what is coming next. I cannot hold back a shudder.
For a brief moment, I hate myself for my weakness.
Malak towers over me, gloating. I cannot hear him. In my mind's eye I am meditating in the chambers of the Jedi Council, at ease with the world. There is no emotion, there is peace.
Then it begins.
The peace is shattered as lightning burns into every inch of my body. I twist and jerk in my restraints. My mouth is wide open, screaming, but I cannot hear myself.
There is…no passion…there is…serenity.
Revan will come. He will.
The blasts intensify. A tiny part of my mind that is not screaming tells me that after this ends—if it ever ends—I will covered in scars and burns. My body will be too badly damaged to be healed by medicine or science or even the Force.
I hate myself for being so petty.
A small respite while Malak speaks. I find myself grateful for his words; they mean a break from the pain. My sweat has pooled on the stone slab, but I am chilled and cold beyond belief.
There is…no chaos…A violent shudder racks my body. There is harmony.
Then it starts, again.
I scream, again.
Revan will come. He will.
----------
One week later.
My head lolls on my shoulder. How long has it been? Minutes, hours, days weeks months years. What is happening now? Maybe the war is over and we have lost without my Battle Meditation and the power of the Star Forge has overwhelmed us and when I am released there will be no Republic no Jedi Council no emotion no peace. All because of me because I failed because I am not here to stop them they need my Battle Meditation but I am not there.
I rest my cheek against the stone. The rough surface is cool. Not burning. Nice.
So easy to just…give in. Nod and say yes when hecomes to the room. Easier. No more pain. No more burns. So much easier…
But there is something in the back of my mind that stops me from doing it. Not the code, I learned the code was false, there is no peace when your skin fries and your throat is bloody from screaming…no serenity no harmony just pain.
Something else…someone who will come…Revan, Revan will come. That is why I cannot will not give in because Revan will come.
I squint in the darkness. But Revan is the Dark Lord my mind is fogged why would the Dark Lord come would he hurt me more? A sudden panic seizes my body.
No Revan is not the Dark Lord he is good now a good Jedi there is no emotion there is peace except there is emotion, there is chaos, there is anger and hate and pain and ohhh there is pain.
The door opens. My head turns automatically to the sound. The familiar sight makes my stomach tighten. When he comes in he hurts me so badly. I retch but there is nothing to throw up nothing to eat since I was chained here.
"My dear Bastila," the voice floats in from a hundred miles away. "I have some terrible news."
I perk up maybe terrible for him means good for me?
"Revan is dead," he says sadly.
I stare at him in confusion.
"I know you thought he would come for you. But instead he was fleeing to Korriban. My fleets found him and destroyed his ship just hours ago; sadly, I could not stop them in time. Revan has been wiped off the face of the galaxy."
Tears begin sliding down my cheeks. Revan was supposed to come save me but now he is dead if he's dead then who will save me no one. Without my Battle Meditation the Republic has fallen and there is no one left to come for me, nothing left for me just days and nights of lightning and knives and the smell of burning flesh.
I cannot stop the sobs. Malak is at my side.
"Poor Bastila," he whispers in his metallic voice. "You see now that you cannot rely on anyone, on anything to save you. There is nothing in the universe except your own strength."
I nod brokenly. Nothing but my own strength but I have no strength.
His voice becomes a seductive croon. "I can give you strength. I can stop the pain."
My head snaps up to look at him. Stop it yes please give me strength to end it.
"Just say the word, Bastila. Say it and you will never need to fear being weak and helpless ever again."
Something in my head says to stop but I don't have to listen to it I can barely hear it and it doesn't matter anyway Revan isn't coming anymore. I try several times but my throat is brittle and raw and it hurts from screaming.
He stares at me, waiting. Finally the word comes out, with anguish and fear and hate and desire.
"Yes."
Malak laughs.
----------
"Your first lesson, apprentice. The Sith code. You will learn it, memorize it, live it. It will become a part of you."
I am kneeling before Malak, having assumed the ritual position of apprentice to master. "Yes, Master."
"Peace is a lie, there is only passion."
I repeat the words. I wince at the P's because my lips have not fully healed and it hurts to say them.
"Through passion, I gain strength."
I repeat the words. Strength. I want strength, need strength. To never again be reduced to helplessness, to be forced to rely on another. There will only be strength through passion. Fury and hate enough to fuel me.
"Through strength, I gain power. Through power, I gain victory. Through victory, my chains are broken. The Force shall set me free." I chant the words.
Malak nods in approval. "You know the tenants of the Sith Code. And now you understand how the Jedi Council held you back, refused to allow you to gain the strength that would have made you better than them. It would have made you too powerful and dangerous for their purposes. They sought to control you, to twist you, to forge you into their mindless puppet."
My eyes flare. "Yes, Master."
"And how do you feel about them, apprentice?"
"I hate them, Master," I say. And I do. The rage boils inside me.
I do not have to look up to feel Malak's approval.
----------
Our weapons clash. I have replaced my crystal, reforming my lightsaber into a true tool of the Sith. It glows red instead of yellow now, mirroring the change in my soul. We draw walls of blood that hum and crackle and explode in sparks when they meet.
It is like our fight on the Leviathan. But this time, I am no Jedi weakling who struggles to keep her emotions in check. Instead I am fueled by the passion denied me by the Council. Each attack is bolstered by rage, strengthened by hate. I cut and slash and parry with blood boiling in my veins. I luxuriate in the venom welling up inside my soul.
My blows drive Malak back. He stumbles, but immediately regains his balance and forces me to my knees with a wave of his hand. He is still stronger, faster, better.
For now.
"Well done, my apprentice" he says. "I feel the strength within you."
Still kneeling, I bow my head. "Through strength, I gain power, Master."
"You will make an excellent apprentice."
"Yes, Master." I will.
For now.