A/N: I had intended this to be a two-part story, but as often happens I ended up writing a lot more than I thought I would. So, one more chapter to go.
To those of you who asked, Revan's name is not significant in itself - at least not in my story. However, you may be interested in this dictionary definition:
rev·e·nant
n.
1. One that returns after a lengthy absence.
2. One who returns after death.
(French, from present participle of revenir, 'to return', from Old French.)
Part 2
"What are we going to play today, Revan?"
"Jedi and Sith." The announcement was greeted with a mixture of cheers and groans.
"But we always play Jedi and Sith," whined Nilo, a Twi'lek boy. "Why can't we do something else?"
"We don't always play it." Revan looked annoyed at being opposed. "We played Space Pirates yesterday."
"But –"
Revan drew himself up to his full height (currently an impressive three foot ten) and glared at his challenger. "If you don't want to play," he said sternly, "you can start your own game." All eyes fell on Nilo, who shrank back and shook his head, suitably cowed.
"All right." Seeing that there were no further objections, Revan began to assign the teams. "You're a Jedi –" he tapped the nearest child on the shoulder – "and you're a Sith. Jedi, Sith, Jedi, Sith..." The cluster of five-, six- and seven-year-olds hastily began to sort themselves into their allocated groups.
These seemingly insignificant proceedings might have been of interest to a student of psychology or sociology. Despite their young ages, a clear pecking order was already emerging amongst these future Jedi, and clearest of all was that young Revan stood firmly on top of the heap. He wasn't particularly tall or strong for his age; mostly he seemed to dominate the group through sheer force of personality. But somehow, whatever the explanation, any game or activity the children undertook always seemed to end up with Revan in charge – and if there was ever anything out of the ordinary going on, you could be pretty sure that Revan would be behind it.
"...And Norah, you're a Sith." Norah Coral, a small, fair-haired girl of five, looked put out.
"But I don't want to be a Sith." Her bottom lip began to quiver.
"And I want to be on Yann's side," called out another voice.
Revan looked exasperated, but he hadn't got to be the de facto leader of his peer group without a certain knack for diplomacy. "Okay," he said soothingly. "Norah, you can swap with Yann, alright? Then let's start."
The game began. The structure was simple: a 'Jedi' would fight a duel with a 'Sith' (sticks taking the place of lightsabers) and the loser would join the opposing team, while the winner went on to fight someone else. Revan always played Exar Kun, whichever side he chose; today he was Exar the Sith Lord.
After two successful battles, Revan found himself facing Norah. She gripped her 'sticksaber' tightly, looking scared, and he knew this was going to be an easy fight. With a couple of heavy blows he almost managed to knock her weapon out of her hand; she squeaked, dropped the stick and ran to hide behind her Jedi team-mates.
Aggrieved, Revan chased after her. "Norah, you've got to be on my team now!" he protested, grabbing her by the arm and trying to drag her away with him.
"Nooooo!" She struggled to free herself, tears beginning to fill her eyes. Fearing that she was about to start crying and ruin the game, Revan decided it would be best to let go of her.
"Alright, then I'll use my Force powers to destroy you!" He flung out a hand in an imitation of a Force-push – or at least, it was meant to be an imitation. He certainly hadn't intended for Norah to go flying several feet backwards and land on the floor with a heavy bump; but as it turned out, this was exactly what happened.
Revan gasped in alarm and quickly pulled his hand back. "Oops..." Norah sat on the ground where she had landed, her mouth wide open with shock. For a moment she was too stunned to make a sound; then, as she realised that she was supposed to be hurt, her face crumpled and she let out a piercing wail.
"Ooooowww!" Her eyes flooded with tears. "I'm telling on you, Revan! I'm telling a Master!"
Panicked, Revan rushed forward. "Norah, I didn't – " But it was too late; the little girl had scrambled to her feet and was running off across the courtyard, clutching her grazed hand.
"You're going to be in trouble, Revan," Nilo called out gleefully. Revan said nothing; he could very well imagine how much trouble he was going to be in. Using the Force at all outside of training sessions was strictly forbidden, but using it on other people was the gravest sin it was possible to commit. For a brief moment he thought of running away, but he knew it wouldn't take them long to find him; besides, Norah was already returning, clutching the hand of the first Master she had run into. Unfortunately for Revan, this was Vrook Lamar.
"Now what's going on here?" demanded Vrook sternly. Revan opened his mouth to speak, but several of the others piped up excitedly before he had the chance.
"We were playing Jedi and Sith."
"And Revan did a Force-push on Norah."
"She went flying!"
Master Vrook exhaled loudly. "Revan Skywalker," he said wearily. "I might have known." He fixed a threatening glare on the young boy. "All right, young man, would you care to explain yourself?"
"I didn't mean t-" he began, but the still-weeping Norah turned on him angrily. "You liar!" Her small, tear-stained face was contorted with fury. "You did it on purpose!"
"No I didn't!" Revan looked around desperately for support, but in typical six-year-old fashion, the others were thoroughly enjoying the prospect of seeing a fellow-pupil get yelled at. Just when things seemed hopeless, however, a quiet voice spoke up: "He didn't. It was an accident."
Everyone's heads turned towards the speaker, who would have stood out from the crowd even without saying a word. For one thing, he was about a head taller than most of the other children; for another, he was completely bald. "What was that, Malak?" enquired Vrook, frowning.
"I saw what happened. It was an accident," repeated the boy. Revan nodded eagerly, seizing his chance. "I didn't mean to use the Force, Master Vrook. I was just pretending..."
"Hmm." Vrook was inclined to trust Malak; he was a quiet, serious child who rarely caused any trouble. "Revan, you've been warned before about this. You must be very, very careful not to use the Force without a Master to guide you, especially by accident. Do you understand?"
Revan nodded meekly, relieved to be getting off this easily. "Yes, Master Vrook." He turned to Norah, who was still scowling. "Sorry, Norah."
"And I don't want you pretending to be Sith. The Dark Side is not a thing to joke about, young ones." Revan looked as if he were about to protest, but then thought better of it. "Come on, Norah," continued her Master, "let's go and get you cleaned up."
The group began to disperse as Vrook walked away with Norah, but Malak lingered behind. Revan flashed him a grateful smile. "Thanks."
" 'S okay." Malak shrugged. "Norah's always like that. Girls are dumb."
"Yeah." They grinned at each other.
"I'm Malak Zordani."
"I'm Revan."
Malak nodded. "Revan Skywalker."
The other boy frowned at the mention of his second name. "No, just Revan." He quickly changed the subject. "How old are you?"
"Seven standard years. You?"
"Six."
They stood face to face for a minute, carefully sizing each other up: the bigger, older boy versus the acknowledged leader of the pack. Finally, Revan gave a slight nod. "Wanna play Space Pirates?"
"Sure."
From that day onwards, Malak became Revan's trusted lieutenant, helping to enforce his authority amongst the others and supporting him in his all-too-frequent clashes with the Masters. In return, Revan would ensure that anyone who teased Malak about his appearance rapidly came to regret it. Within weeks the two were firm friends, as inseparable as brothers, and so they would remain.
"So if Skywalker isn't your real name, what is?" asked Malak one day, in a moment of idle curiosity.
Revan scowled; clearly this was a subject he preferred to avoid. "Don't have one."
"Why not?" Malak looked puzzled.
"Why don't you have any hair?" flung back the other boy. Malak failed to rise to his taunt, however. "I was born like this," he said seriously. "But don't you have a family name?"
"I don't have any family. Master Vandar said the Mandalorians killed my parents." The little boy's scowl deepened. "One day I'm going to use the Force to fight them back."
His friend began to laugh. "You couldn't fight the Mandalorians."
"I could too." Revan threw him a defiant glance. "I will when I'm older. You'll see."
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The years rolled onwards. Revan's training progressed with astonishing rapidity, and before too long it was time for him to be assigned to a Master for individual tuition. Exactly which Master should be entrusted with this undertaking was a subject of some debate within the High Council; some argued that the boy needed a firm hand to curb his more rebellious tendencies, while others believed that being too strict with him would only make things worse. Eventually the task was allotted to Zhar Lestin, a newcomer to the Council, who correctly suspected that he was being tested.
As it turned out, this was a good choice. Zhar was relatively liberal by the Council's standards, and quickly realised that his young Padawan's energy and fierce intelligence were better channelled than supressed; he and Revan soon grew to like and respect each other. Malak was less lucky, having been assigned to Vrook Lamar a year earlier. But being rather more patient than his friend, and less inclined to question authority, he got on far better with his rather stuffy Master than Revan would have done.
As he entered his teenage years, Revan's curiosity about his family and background increased. It wasn't the fact of his parents' death that he couldn't accept – he had long resigned himself to that, and besides, it was normal for most Padawans to have little or no contact with their families. But he found himself wishing that he knew even the most basic details about them – who they were, what they looked like, how they had lived.
"It's not knowing anything about myself which I hate," he once confided in Malak. "Not even my own name." He screwed up his face. "I mean, honestly, what kind of a name is 'Skywalker'?"
Malak laughed. Revan's dislike of his adopted name was well-known, which was why to almost everyone who knew him he was simply 'Revan'. "Well, it could have been worse," he pointed out. "The ship that brought me here was called the Scarlet Eagle."
The young man even pestered his Master into helping him contact Maline Jast, who had settled on Coruscant with her two daughters (now known as 'Cat' and 'Lori'). She was friendly, and as helpful as possible under the circumstances, but could tell him little beyond what he already knew. He was left only with a vague description of his mother, and of the guard whom Maline had suspected to be his father; it was clear that barring a miracle, this was all he was ever likely to know.
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Thwarted in his efforts to discover more about his own background, Revan began to study the origins of the Republic's conflict with the Mandalorians. He found the subject fascinating, and as his interest grew, so did his indignation at the plight of the non-Republic worlds left at Mandalore's mercy. "How can we just sit there and allow this to happen?" he would demand of his Masters, never receiving an answer which entirely satisfied him. Once, during a debating contest, he argued so passionately and convincingly against the Jedi's official policy of inaction that even the Council were impressed – but despite this, he was well aware that no one would listen to a sixteen-year-old Padawan.
Undaunted, the young Jedi continued his exploration of military history, studying the Exar Kun war and previous conflicts with the Sith. Zhar was happy to let him pursue his own interests as long as it didn't interfere with his training; and since Revan was already well advanced in his studies, this was not a problem. But one particular incident, shortly after Revan turned seventeen, led to the only major row that ever took place between Zhar and his apprentice.
In the course of his research, Revan had come across tantalising allusions to something called a 'Star Forge' – a legendary weapon of immense power, constructed long before the formation of the Republic – but further information was contained in ancient Sith documents which Padawans were not allowed to access. Revan was not the type to be so easily put off, however. After appealing unsuccessfully to his Master, he enlisted the help of Malak – who, at eighteen, had greater access privileges – in his attempts to find the documents. Initially reluctant, Malak finally agreed to help and soon became as absorbed in the subject as his friend.
Unfortunately for the two Padawans, they failed to cover their traces properly, and their subterfuge was soon discovered. Vrook was furious with Malak, but it was Zhar who really hit the roof. Normally he was prepared to be fairly lenient with Revan, but on this occasion the boy had gone too far.
"What in the Force's name did you think you were doing?" he fumed at his apprentice. "Is it that you can't understand a direct order, or do you imagine the rules don't apply to you?"
Revan was not giving in without a fight. "The Code says that we should seek knowledge, Master. Or does that only apply to what the Council 'permits' us to know?"
"You know perfectly well that some knowledge is dangerous to those without the wisdom and experience to comprehend it properly. Knowing something is not the same as understanding it, Revan." Still the young man attempted to reason with him.
"But we can't afford to ignore useful information just because it comes from the Sith. What I found out may be important –"
"Oh? Not important enough for you to share it with us, clearly." Zhar's face was pale with anger. "Honestly, Revan, I'd prefer to have you defy me openly than go behind my back like this."
A slight tinge of red suffused Revan's face. "I'm sorry, Master, but I didn't have any other choice –"
"You had the choice to obey my orders!" Zhar was struggling to control himself. "Instead you deliberately chose to disobey me, and what's more, you got your friend Malak involved as well. I don't even need to ask whose idea this was." Revan began to protest, but Zhar continued. "I've defended you to the Council in the past because I thought I could trust you, but apparently I was wrong. I'm ashamed of you, Revan." He turned his back and stalked out of the room without another word.
Revan was left feeling distinctly guilty, not so much for the act itself as for his underhand behaviour, and for having got his friend into trouble. He eventually apologised to Zhar with an acceptable amount of contrition, and the subject was not mentioned again. However, Revan did not forget what he had learned about the Sith and the Star Forge; he wrote it down and stored it away carefully, to be consulted later on if necessary. After all, who knew when such information might come in useful?