An empty hall echoed with silence as the cold air of Telos' north held its breath.
The white-robed Jedi - was she a Jedi? Could she claim such a title already? - entered, carrying her lightsaber on the belt of her voluminous robing. It was alien to her, wearing these robes so openly, so readily. She knew she had to walk with confidence and strength, but she could not help but feel anxious, and even afraid. Was the old woman telling the truth? Was he… truly…? She had brought her here, hardly even thinking. All she desired was to return here, return to Atris, her sisters, seek… what, exactly? What was she seeking? Absolution? How could she seek absolution now, when she's broken her oath so readily, so greatly? Vengeance, perhaps? No, vengeance was not the Jedi way. But, her mentor had not seemed to follow the Jedi way as strictly as others might have, and her own feelings for him were… not well-aligned with the Jedi way. But no, vengeance… vengeance was too much. What would she even be seeking vengeance for? Her sisters had done nothing, nor had Atris.
Perhaps she was not seeking anything at all.
Perhaps she simply wished to return to what had been her home, and see what the Force had in store for her.
Footsteps echoed from all around, as the myriad approaches and entrances to the council chamber were paid a visit by other figures, all of them women. In the simple white garb of the Handmaidens of Atris, her sisters surrounded her. The glares in their eyes did not speak of welcome.
"The Last of the Handmaidens has returned to us at last." One of them spat.
"It is good that you have returned. You have much to answer for." Another one said, more even-headed, but still with veiled malice.
"What are you saying?" The Last Handmaiden asked, frightened at her sisters' reactions to her.
"You have betrayed us. You have betrayed Atris." One accused.
"You are no longer one of us. You followed the Jedi, betrayed your oath!" Another arraigned.
It all seemed clear to her now. She had been betrayed. On all fronts, she had been betrayed. The old woman, Kreia, had a greater purpose to coming to Telos. Atris had already surrounded herself with her ancient relics of darkness. Only a nudge and a push, and…
"Listen to me, Atris has been touched by the Sith, but it is not too late to-"
"Silence." One of her sisters demanded.
"It is a crime to kill blood. But not a betrayer such as you." Another snarled.
"I will not fight you!" She cried out.
"Then you shall fall." Another sister snapped.
With that, words fell to the sound of weapons being drawn, and the double-bladed lightsaber came forth from her belt, extending its silver blade out. She had been trained with double-bladed weapons before, and with her mentor's guidance, she found that even the mythic plasma blade of the lightsaber could be handled similarly. Her sisters approached, and through her new sensitivity to the Force, she could feel their movements coming before they came. She considered the situation, frightened. She was surrounded and outnumbered, and she had never been the greatest among her sisters. She could only hope that her training had made her strong enough.
One of her sisters brought her Echani staff to bear, the cortosis bouncing off the lightsaber blade before more approached to add to the fray. The Handmaiden fought with all her training to defend herself, using the Force to predict the movements she needed to make to block, parry, dodge, but she could not bring herself to counter. These were her sisters; She could not bring herself to kill them. It was not a fair fight, she realized. A Jedi desperately trying to do no harm, surrounded by five Echani warriors with no intent less than murder. She searched herself in a panic, desperately trying to find some bit of wisdom from her training to guide her.
She realized in an instant what had to be done.
She twirled her blade about, forcing her sisters to block the dangerous blades and back away defensively. When they were out of striking distance, the Handmaiden held her blade horizontally above her, and retracted it into its hilt before returning it to her belt. She spread her stance again, assuming the unarmed stance of the Echani warriors. This was her test. This was her chance to prove herself worthy of the title Jedi. Anybody could learn to wield a lightsaber, and some, the Force.
But she would not kill. She would not strike down her sisters.
"Surrendering yourself to justice? So be it, betrayer!" One of her sisters taunted before charging forth with her staff. The Handmaiden deftly sidestepped her attack, gripping the staff with perfected timing before giving a strong shove to her sister's back, propelling her forward with greater force, enough to pry her hands away from the staff. The Handmaiden twirled around with the staff in her hands to face the next attacker coming upon her from behind, before she dropped the newly acquire weapon to use her forearm to parry an incoming strike, swiftly using inertia, not blocking the staff coming down on her but redirecting it away from her body and into the ground. Her assailant was bent over, and she took that to her advantage by swiftly bringing an elbow out to connect with the attacker's face, sending her back.
The Echani spun around just in time to meet her next two attackers, before ducking beneath and rolling away from both of their attacks. She allowed one to strike again before gripping her staff, shoving it forward, and then yanking it back to her, not quite disarming her opponent, but bringing her off-balance enough to cause the same action repeated more rapidly to pry the staff from her and send her into the ground. The delay in fully disarming her opponent made her timing for blocking the next attack just barely quick enough, using the staff she had just procured to block her opponent's, before sending the enemy's weapon off of hers, twirling around to build inertia, and sweeping her adversary's legs, sending her into the ground. The Handmaiden sensed a sister approaching from behind, and twirled, whacking her would-be aggressor directly in the head, sending her onto the ground, unconscious from the staff blow.
Her confidence rising still greater, the Handmaiden turned to her other sisters, of which four were still standing now. One of them, her first attacker, had just recovered and was moving to reclaim her weapon. The Echani warrior gracefully sprinted forward and delivered a swift kick to her sister's face, strong enough to send her back, but not enough to render her unconscious. She turned to her other three sisters, who struck in tandem. The Handmaiden managed to dodge and parry two attacks, but her third attempt was met with failure, earning her a powerful strike to her hip. The faint sound of cracking told her that her pelvis was damaged, and the pain confirmed it. But she would not stop; She, for the first time, struck in the pure offensive. She deftly struck into an opponent's sides before kicking into her gut and bringing her elbow down upon the back of her sister's head, smashing her into the floor, where she remained.
Her other two sisters were joined by her recovered first attacker, who had regained her staff. The Handmaiden regarded them with trepidation; they had underestimated her, but for how much longer would that stand true? Her hip languished, and her limbs were beginning to defy her in exhaustion. She could no longer safely stand against her remaining sisters. They were battered, but not exhausted. They needed only to wear her down. She could not expect to win at this point. Not without drawing her blade and risking their deaths.
No… she thought. That is not an option. Nothing which ends in death is an option.
As her adversaries approached, ready for the kill, an idea struck the Handmaiden. She had been fighting as an Echani would; unarmed, with honor. But she had forgotten one of the first lessons her master had taught her:
When you walk the path of the Force, you become something greater than you were before. Jedi, Sith, or even something else… the Force sensitives of the galaxy, once they unlock their potential, are, as a rule, a cut above whatever path of life they lived before.
She was not merely an Echani anymore.
She was a Jedi.
She focused herself, centering her energy, and channeled the Force energies surrounding all living things. She drew her arm back, storing the energy into her hand, and just as her opponents charges, she pushed forth, sending the Force power rushing forth, pushing her sisters hard, slamming them into the wall, each of them falling to the ground, knocked out from the force of the impact. Overjoyed at her success (having never managed to execute such a powerful Push before), the Handmaiden approached her sisters, a smile on her face, pride and confidence exuding from her. One of her sisters looked up at her, her strength expended in a few final words before falling into unconsciousness.
"You… are not… one of us…"
"No. I am above blind loyalty."
"I am a Jedi!" The Handmaiden cried out, as almost a victory cheer.
"A Jedi, are you?" A familiar voice called out from behind. The condescension, the loathing, the hatred… it could only be-
"Atris." The Handmaiden almost whispered as she turned to face her former mistress. All her confidence faltered. Here stood Atris, her former mistress, her former master, the last Jedi.
No. The last Jedi to fall.
She seemed to size up the Handmaiden like a predator examining prey. "You are a fool if you think yourself a Jedi. You have followed his teachings. You are no more a Jedi than I am a smuggler. But betrayal is not a matter of results. It is a matter of intent."
"Atris, please. Do not give in to the Dark Side, you must-"
"Silence, Handmaiden. I will not hear your words. I will not suffer hearing your voice any further. You have betrayed me. Betrayed me in every way. And I shall make you suffer for it." Atris seethed.
She drew her lightsaber, glowing red now, and moved with Force-imbued haste to strike. It was by reflex and fortune that the Handmaiden drew her own blade in time to defend herself, but Atris was much more powerful than her sisters. She struck with haste and precision, and while the Handmaiden managed to keep herself alive, blow after blow made contact, tearing her robes and searing her flesh. She managed to wear Atris down enough to scar her arm, but this only enraged her. She lashed out with the Force, sending the Handmaiden hurdling back with great force into the wall, but not enough to knock her out. Atris held her Force grip around the Handmaiden's neck, enough to choke her, but not to asphyxiate her. True to her word, the fallen Master intended to make her suffer.
"Enough." Atris uttered. "I shall not even stand to give you the pleasure of combat. I shall not stand anything less than your agony!"
With that, Atris sent her former handmaid into the ground before her, and even allowed her to begin standing as she coughed from the chokehold. But just as she reached her knees, Atris released a thunderbolt of Force lightning onto her victim, sending her back and spasming from pain.
"Did you love him? Did you harbor feelings for him? Did you think he would return them? That he would love you?" Atris demanded.
"There is no love in his heart! He is a creature of hatred and war! He belongs to me! Me!And I shall make you suffer for the arrogance of thinking him to be yours!" Atris spewed out, boiling in rage.
With each new sentence came a new bout of lightning, a new round of torture, a fresh set of tears and cries of anguish, and among those, cries of heartbreak. She was right. The Exile didn't return her feelings. How could she think otherwise? She loved him, so dearly. He was so precious to her, she wanted to mend his wounds, both of the flesh and on his soul, she wished to follow him all across the galaxy...
But Atris was right. There was no way. And now she realized too late why she came here: In the hopes that he would come for her. She knew somehow that this would happen. And she hoped that he would come, no matter what Kreia had said, to save her. It was unbecoming of an Echani to do such a thing, to bait another to save you, but she didn't care. She would live with the shame if she could live with him.
But now it was too late. She would die, here, beneath the ice of a broken world, alone and afraid.
"Atris. Enough."
The voice somehow made the room quieter as it rang and hung in the air.
"Impossible…" Atris whispered under her breath.
"You shall not harm her any further. She has done nothing. Your quarrel is with me."
"Is that so? Have you come to save her, then? To rescue your little apprentice?" Atris spat.
"Yes. And I have come to save you, if I can."
"I cannot be saved, you know that. I will be held back no longer. The Dark Side is my path. Nothing can stop that from being true any longer." Atris explained, almost resigned.
"We both know that nobody is beyond redemption."
"Silence! I shall not allow you to lecture me! I shall not allow you to stand here, insulting me with your very existence!" She cried out. From her state of near-unconsciousness, the Handmaiden could almost swear she heard tears in her former mistress' voice.
"I have no wish to fight you, Atris."
"Then you shall die with ease! You execution is long overdue, Exile!" Atris exclaimed, moving forth with her speed again to strike.
But the Exile was much better off than his apprentice; he drew his dual lightsabers with haste and ease, blocking Atris' red blade and parrying it away before engaging in the duel. It seemed as if Atris couldn't even touch him, while he was pushing her to her absolute limits just to avoid amputation. As if to prove a point, the Exile almost contemptuously released a bolt of Force lightning against Atris, sending her back all the way to the bridge leading to her personal chamber. Cut up and battered, Atris stood herself up before limping to her chamber. The Handmaiden looked up weakly to see him, just to see him, just to prove that he was there. She could only see some of him before as she lay there; never his entirety. She glanced up to watch him walk in pursuit of the fallen Jedi Master.
He was glorious.
His face was aglow with such certainty, like there was no possible chain of events but this, and that he knew what was going to happen next for a fact. He light brown hair shined under the mediocre lighting of the council hall, and his grey robes flowed and fluttered all around him as his swift and sure strides caused him to leave her sight, and she resigned herself to her prone state.
…
It was painful, but the Handmaiden managed to stand herself up, clutching her agitated hipbone in agony. It was just as she managed to right herself somewhat that the Exile returned.
"Handmaiden…" He all but whispered as he approached her, cupping her face in his hands.
"I am fine, truly-" She began explaining, but he cut her off.
"Silence. Please, Handmaiden. Please…" He cut off, moving his hands from her face to wrap her in a light embrace, noticing her injury.
"How could you do such a thing to me? Why would you leave me and come here alone? Why would you try facing Atris by yourself?" His voice, for once in all the time she had ever known him, was trembling.
"I… I had thought that… I am sorry… I am so sorry…" She almost whimpered as she tried to return the embrace.
"I cannot bear the thought of you falling, Handmaiden. I simply cannot. You are… you are too dear to me… I can't… I'm not… I'm not strong enough to lose you…" He whispered with his faltering voice to her.
"I'm sorry… I'm sorry…" Was all she could say. Tears rolled down her cheeks. He was alive… he was alive… he was alive… she pulled away from the embrace to look into his eyes, which were reddened and blurred.
"I am Brianna, and I am Last of the Handmaidens no more. I will follow you wherever you go, I swear it. I will never leave your side again. I swear it." She forced out, the words demanding to be said, before she nuzzled her tear-stained face into the crook of his neck.
"Brianna… Brianna…" The Exile stopped, loosened the embrace, and brought his lips to hers, holding her close to him as if she would fall into the abyss of the hollowed mesa if he even loosened his grip. She gave no resistance, falling into the joy of the moment, sharing the kiss with energy, her body all aflame in passion and happiness. When their lips parted, the Exile finished his sentence, and the words were marked with a single tear falling down his cheek.
"I love you, Brianna. I love you as I have loved nothing else. If you will never leave my side, I will never allow harm to fall upon you. I shall allow no pain to reach your heart nor your soul, and only the pain of progress and combat will befall your body. I love you, Brianna. I love you."
With no words left to say anything more, the two pressed their lips together again, embracing the other's warmth and opening their hearts to one another. It was anguish to part again, because they both knew that there was still work to be done.
"He is coming, Brianna. Nihilus. The Lord of Hunger. Kreia has made him believe Telos is home to some great Jedi enclave. He will feed on it, and find nothing near the feast he craves. Telos will die again, and he will only be still hungrier to feast on some other world. I must face him. For the sake of the galaxy and the Force itself, he must fall."
Brianna's face become resolute, her words sure as stone.
"We must face him."
"No, my love. He is too strong to risk bringing you into the fray. You must remain behind and help coordinate the defense. No doubt Citadel Station will be besieged. You must help there, while I end Nihilus." The Exile's words were sad, but firm. Brianna stared at him hard for some time, but returned her head to the crook of his neck.
"Promise me you will return. Promise me you will not leave me alone. Promise…"
She was cut off with a kiss, and the softest yet strongest eyes staring directly into hers.
"I promise."