#since coruscant is 'a planet of steel and stone' like. come on

[besalisks]

Posting a screenshot cuz I don't wanna go on a rant in the tags lmao

But shit like this feels weird to me. That isn't how culture or heritage works necessarily. It isn't just 'you can do your traditional tattoos and speak your native language' [even though yes those are important], there are so many parts of cultural heritage that would be lost when people are taken from their homeworlds and raised in the temple, even if they were raised with other jedi of the same species. The jedi religion and the temple and courscant all are part of that specific culture, the republic culture, the Basic culture or whatever. Raising a kid as a jedi is definitely taking them from their culture and raising them in a different one, no matter how many tattoos you let them get. They'd still be separate from the community and traditions of their homeworld.

People in the comments are talking about how jedi are encouraged to stay in contact with their homeworld and engage in the culture and I think that's great, but what about cultures that specifically have a lot of importance in familial connections? No matter what, the jedi are breaking the bond between the younglings they take and their cultural heritage and community and replacing it with the jedi religion and the basic culture. And with how the jedi do things [no emotional attachments at all, don't act on emotion], it can be damaging! And especially when a certain culture / species isn't common in the Order, imagine how isolating that but feel. I think about wookiee jedi which are canonically rare, can't speak Basic, and not everyone can understand Shyriiwook. Iirc the wookiee jedi in the new republic series canonically dislikes social events at the temple because they make him feel isolated since a lot of people can't understand him. And wookiee culture prominently focuses around community and family!

Etc etc etc it's just so wild to me to see someone say 'see! They can have tattoos, they're definitely allowed to connect with their heritage' like congrats to the jedi order you did the absolute bare minimum, it's still fucked up

[herald-divine-hell]

A Meeting of Kindness

A/N: So, this fanfic is with @noeldressari‘s Talia Cousland and Amayia as padawans in a Star Wars AU. I’m sorry if Talia isn’t all that accurate to her actual character. I’m really bad at doing that with other people’s ocs asldkada. But I hope you all enjoy!

-

As night gathered in the skies of Coruscant, light flickered awake in a sea of silver and amber, the underglow of rolling clouds burnt with silvery-gold. Streaking smoky-silver and scarlet lines blurred as taxi-pods and shuttles zipped across the air, a constant buzzing hum as clusters of stars peaked and winked in the dark mantle. 

A wind picked up from the north, bringing the scent of a metallic-soaked chilled air to Amayia’s senses, shuffling her thick robes, lightsaber hilt rattling against her thigh. Fingers sprayed across a wide stone surface, one of the few remaining in the metropolis-planet. A white marble that glowed with the orange-gold fires of the sun during the day and the icy silver waters of moonlight by night. 

Coruscant still dazzled her, even though it would have been nearly two decades since she had joined the Jedi Order as a padawan. At night, a new world blossomed from the brilliant glow of the day. Though fires sparkled through countless windows and ledges, as transmission towers flared and in and outgoing ships whined through the atmosphere with the glow of shooting stars, a peace settled onto Amayia’s shoulders; a peace she had not known since she was a child waiting at her mother’s knee to hear some fable story. Only at night did the concerns of the war bleed away from her mind, only at night could she hear the Force settle from its conflict. Light and dark dwindled to a single strung hum, then another, until a melody whispered in her mind, flooded her soul. Thundering battle fled away, the screams of dying men, women, and children fading away until there was only her and the Force, an old ally, and an older friend. 

“You should be getting some rest.”

Amayia’s eyes turned away from the thicket of towering skyscrapers, gleaming silver-white by strands of starlight, the horizon threaded with their soft flicker. Yellow-white light pooled from beyond in the curved archway, lines of columns marching deeper into the Temple like rows of soldiers. A few golden and bronze statues of ancient Jedi flanked the sides of the entrance of the pathway, staring out into the dark city with serene expressions, some with firm, dignified features, others with kindly smiles and eyes. 

Light bathed about Talia’s form as if the Force pulsed off her in waves, lighting a sheen over her long brown hair, shadows scurrying about her features, heightening her sharp cheekbones, softening her shyly smiling lips. Vivid blue eyes glimmered with silver and scarlet and azure, reflections of the city beyond, twirling about like swirling jewels in a sea. In her hands were two porcelain cups with thin plums of white-gray smoke streaming until it faded away into the darkness. 

“I like to take walks before every mission,” replied Amayia, turning a little to face the Padawan that was assigned to her. Tomorrow they would be leaving to take up commands as leaders of two squadrons of clone troopers, in hopes of infiltrating a Separatist base and gathering intel before a full on ground assault and occupation could occur. The first time Amayia was allowed a command of her own without her master’s presence. Any trickle of fear never roused in her heart. She would do what she must. Amayia had learned that a long time ago. 

And yet...she never was partnered with another Padawan, and never alone. Master Or-Lan had always been careful in choosing where Amayia was sent, and who she went with, if he could not attend. A few with Jedi Knights, often in escort missions for departing senators in dangerous sectors. More often with just her master himself and his legion, the 406th. Amayia knew she was not the greatest communicator, never truly able to grasp the understanding of emotions, especially when it was inflicted hard by others. Master Or-Lan did, though, and tried for years to get her to connect, through the Force or not. But she never can. Whenever she did try to touch another’s emotions, the Force skirted away, like water sloshing up against the side of a dam, never able to pass through. She could still sense it, however; the rage and sadness of a mother or father who lost their child from a bombing run. Yet when she tried to ease them, to bring peace to their trembling, rage-scorched hearts, the barrier sprawled like spun webs, thickening into a wall stronger than steel, with no gaps to break through. Worried did not fill her, the Force a soothing, constant current through her veins, but she knew that any comfort to the locals on the planet they would be heading toward will be lost on her. 

Perhaps that is why Master Or-Lan and Master Findrall choose her to be paired with Talia Cousland. She had only heard her in passing from muttering Jedi in classes, frustration mixed with high praise. She was highly skilled in battle, though aggressive, with her sharp and savage cuts, barreling charges, and overwhelming advance. A few whispers from other Padawans muttered how she could hold a whole battalion of battle droids on her own, and from her appearance, Amayia was sure she could. Long, thick, and straight brown hair fell down to the small of her back, a few strands framing her strong jaw, with its chiseled and sharp jawline. High cheekbones reared proudly on a noble face, but there still was a softness to her, at her lips and in her eyes. A faint blush nestled her pale cheeks, puffs of cool air misted past her lips. Northern wind stirred her long locks until it shivered like a banner of brown toward the west, drips of gold glimmering across like waves. Broad shoulders were covered in a thick brown outer cloak, with the loose fitted sandy-brown robes shrouding the sturdy body beneath. High brown boots crawled up to her knees, and a flash of silver glimmered when Talia shifted a little, making her way toward Amayia. 

“That’s fair,” replied Talia, as she strode to her side, her gaze flickering toward the city. “We’re leaving tomorrow, though. Will you be walking again?” 

Amayia nodded and turned back toward the city, returning both hands onto the wide cool surface. “I’ll be meditating in the gardens before we depart after my walk, if you wish to join me, Padawan Talia.” The words felt clumsy to her, even as her voice carried it still in an even tone. Small talk was never her element. 

The blush seemed to grow on her cheeks, the silver and gold wash of star and city bringing it out so brightly it appeared to overwhelm Talia. Her smile grew a bit, one she flashed at Amayia as she rested the two cups on the balcony still, elbows resting as she leaned forward. “I just might. And, please, call me Talia. No need for formalities when we’ll be guarding one another’s backs.”

A touch of warmth tickled Amayia’s cheeks as she dwindled her thumbs together. Despite her clumsy nature with her emotions, a bubble of fire flickered in her heart at the gentle glow in Talia’s eyes, a determined, sweet, and kind sunflare that spun a thousand diamonds with speared light. Her master often joked that Amayia could never smile, but after a sudden realization, she felt her lips curling into one. “Yes,” admitted Amayia, nodding a bit as gaze returned to the light-blurred skies and sparsely clouded skies. “That will be a good endeavor.” 

At the corner of her eye, she saw Talia testing the name in silence, her smile never leaving her even then. Though, her shoulders did seem to lessen its tension with Amayia’s agreement. Was she afraid that she would have said no? The possibility was strong. She never was particularly close with any of her fellow Padawans, even less than any of the Masters, except for her own. But Amayia still saw the practicality of using only their names to communicate. It was less of a mouthful to say, such allowing greater ability for success-

No, she thought, a shiver of anger rustling across the river of the Force which rolled through her. She was only asking for you to treat her as an equal, a partner. It had nothing to do with the outcome of success for the mission, she had to tell herself, her Master’s voice whistling through her mind, tilted with disappointment. 

“Hot chocolate?” asked Talia suddenly, nudging the cup toward her. 

Amayia blinked, torn away from her thoughts, a ripple of discontent skidding across the calming Force. “Hot chocolate?” Her eyes flickered to the silver-glinting cup, the steam still swirling in waning pillars. Grasping the cup in her hands, gloved fingers brushing over Talia’s, she whispered her thanks as she pulled it close to her chest. Raising and tipping the drink, warmth flooded her body, thawing the night’s chill grasp from her bones. Sweetness overwhelmed her, in a way that she had not felt in many years, and she drank it heavily.

“Like it?” Talia sipped hers, a bit more slower than Amayia’s but a touch heavier. Sighing as she pulled the cup from her lips, her smile seemed more calming than shy. “Hot chocolate is one of my favorite drinks.”

“It is mine as well,” admitted Amayia, the smile from before caressing her face, as the embarrassment burned away by the sweetness of the hot chocolate and the soothing sight of Talia’s smile. It was a pretty smile, matching well with her good-humored eyes. Talia would be good to have when it would come to comforting masses, to ensure cooperation instead of resistance against Republic occupation. Even if her emotions swayed her, perhaps that was why their masters pushed them together on this mission. Amayia knew she was cold, knew she was calculating. She was told over and over again she was what a Jedi ought to be. Emotions did not cloud her judgement, and that was the Jedi way. 

But the Jedi way was also to bring peace, and Talia’s smile brought a waterfall of calm washing over Amayia. Was that not also what the Jedi stood for? Bringing comfort and peace to otherwise death-torn, darkened worlds that were tainted by the Dark Side, tainted by slaughter and destruction? Questions swirled in her mind, but what stood as bright as the stars from the gloomy sea, was Talia’s eyes. So bright and vivid, bursting with life, with kindness. The warmth of before came rushing stronger to her cheeks. 

Talia bowed her head. “I should let you get back to your walk.” She drank her coffee, the pink on her cheeks a bright scarlet now, rushing over her features like a fire-burning cloud. “See you tomorrow, for our walk that is.” 

Smiling back at her, Amayia also bowed. “Thank you for the drink, Talia. I will see you tomorrow, for the walk and the mission. It is an honor to be paired with you.”

A little chuckle came from the other Padawan as she scrubbed the back of her neck. “The honor is all mine, Amayia. And the hot chocolate was nothing. Everyone loves hot chocolate, right?” Her laughter grew a bit more, the fire on her face deepening. “But, yeah...It was good to finally meet you!” She stared for a moment, mouth open as if she wanted to say more. “Right, bed. Walking. Um. Well, goodnight!”

The flapping of her cloak filled the air as Talia rushed back toward the entrance way. Amayia’s stare followed the woman’s departing form, the cloak shivering over her broad back, as if straining as the woman walked back a bit hunched over. 

It was only until she departed to her quarters did Amayia realize that her smile never did leave her face. 

[redrobinhoood]

the lakes | chapter 3, the only safe place

AO3 Link | 2,300 words (approx) | Chapter 1, Chapter 2, /end

Chapter summary: Tomorrow has come, and Fox steels himself to ask Riyo a difficult question

When Riyo woke the next morning, it was to the sound of a comm’s dial tone. The bed beside her was warm, but she found that she was alone in the room. She rolled over onto her back, staring at the ceiling as she listened to the conversation beginning in the other room.

“Fox. How are you healing?” It was the same vocal cords that produced Fox’s voice, but the patterns and inflections in the speech told her that it was Thire who Fox had called.

“Still hurting, but we’re getting there. How have you been?”

“Hanging in there. The Emperor has been calling on me less, which has been a load off my shoulders; I can’t look him in the eye any longer. We mainly talk through the Red Guard now.”

“And your new commanders?”

“Jek’s adjusting well. He’s not as competent yet as Stone was in the role, but I don’t have to babysit him.”

“Like Captain Seeley?”

“Commander Seeley. He’s not too bad, actually. But between him and Jek and my own workload, I understand why you were always throwing yourself into the line of fire.”

Fox laughed one of the few genuinely happy laughs that he saved for Riyo and his closest brothers.  “Thanks, Thire.”

“How’s Riyo?”

Riyo sat up at the mention of her name. Fox had been right the other day, she needed to call Jek and Thire herself. She’d never realized how much she’d missed their friendship until it was gone. She wished that Fox hadn’t closed the door between their room and the main living space. Then again, she was still as naked as Fox had left her the night before.

“As wonderful and patient with me as ever. I don’t want to speak for her, but I think she likes it here. I think she’s happy. You need to talk to her yourself sometime.”

“I will. Or at least, I’d like to. We miss you guys.”

“And we miss you. Living without my brothers has been,” he paused to find the right word, “different. It’s a different world outside of Coruscant. Is there any news on our mole in the Senate?”

“None yet. I’ve decided to back off for a while. If the Emperor is aware, I don’t think there’s much I can do.”

“No, probably not.” Fox agreed.

Riyo still hadn’t told him how aware the Emperor was. Fox had connected the dots on the Emperor’s involvement with the mole, but she hadn’t the heart to tell him that Thire had let slip to her that it had been the Emperor who had ordered Fox’s assassination. It was one thing to know corruption, it was another to find out that the man you had placed your absolute trust in had ordered your death.

“I need to go, Fox.”

“I understand. Stay safe, Commander Thire.” His voice filled with pride as he addressed his younger brother. Then the comm clicked off, and there was no more conversation for Riyo to listen in on. She stayed sitting as she listened to the clashing of kitchen utensils and pans, then to the heavy footsteps that she knew to be Fox’s as he approached the door.

The door to their room slid open and Fox entered, holding a tray that she recognized from their garage as the speeder tool tray. Today, it had been cleared of tools and cleaned of grease and a full breakfast sat on it. From his bare skin, save for his boxers, she assumed that the call had not been a holocomm. Then again, the clones were not known for their sense of personal modesty. It took Riyo a few moments more to process why Fox had brought a tray of food into their room.

“We’ll get crumbs on the sheets!” She protested.

“We’ll make it laundry day, then.” Fox said as he slowly sat down beside her, setting the tray before them on the sheets.

She sighed, giving in without protest. “Let me at least throw some clothes on.”

She could feel Fox’s eyes following her as she crossed the room, tracing down her curves as she reached for a wheat-gold nightgown from the duffel bag that still contained her clothes. She added hangers to her mental list of items to buy. They had a closet in their room, but with no hangers its racks sat empty. Once she had slipped the soft gown over her head, she made her way back to Fox and took in the food before her.

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” She asked when she had settled into his side.

“Yes, but I’d love to hear more.”

She laughed before she raised a bite of food to her mouth, taking joy in the look of pure adoration in Fox’s eyes. She chewed slowly, dragging the scene out as long as possible. “I love you in ways I can’t describe in Basic. The only suitable words are the lyrics and hymns of those who came before as they described the love of the gods.”

Fox’s look of adoration wavered, his lips trembling slightly as he took her words in. “I have no gods; clones have no gods. But I would like to take yours so that I can begin to express my love for you in the same ways.”

“Then has tomorrow come?”

“Not yet. Let’s eat, then sit by the lake.”

“For someone who grew up on a water planet, you can’t get enough of it.” She laughed.

Fox looked offended for a moment before shaking his head and laughing with her. “It’s not the same and you know it. Besides, it’s been five years since I’ve been home.” This ‘home’ was different than the one he had uttered last night. That ‘home’ had been full of love, their love. This ‘home’ was full of family, but no love. As if he could sense her thoughts, Fox continued. “But it’s not my home anymore.”

“What is?” She hoped it was this home.

“You.”

Riyo blinked. She hadn’t considered that possibility.

“You are my home.” Fox reached over and gently ran the back of his fingers across her collarbone, passing over the marks he had left behind the night before. “The only safe place I can ever hope to return to.”

“Fox.” She whined.

He smiled as he leaned in to kiss her. She leaned in to meet him, parting her lips so that he could kiss her however he pleased. He still kissed like he had the first time; soft and restrained and so very frustrating in his tenderness. Fox had been bred for war, for destruction, for killing, but all those parts of him were gone every time he bent down to press his lips against her. Fox was never so gentle with anything in the galaxy as he was with her. It almost made her feel bad for the bruises she had left scattered down his neck. Almost.

“The food’s getting cold.” Fox murmured into her mouth when it became clear that she had no intention of breaking apart.

She gave in and released his hair from her fist so that he could draw away from her. “Can’t let that happen now can we?”

---

The path to the lake was soft enough that one could walk down it in bare feet. So they did. Riyo in her wheat-gold nightgown and Fox in the loose red shirt and grey pants that he had once worn around her family home on Pantora, when they had stopped lying to Riyo’s mother. Riyo didn’t believe that Fox had any sentimental attachment to clothing, barring the one set of blacks he had kept with his phase II armor- and still, that was a uniform, an idea, even propaganda, not clothing- but she wondered if it had been purposeful.

Fox’s arm was wrapped around her waist as they walked, his strides shortened so that she could easily keep pace. It may have not even been a conscious decision on his part, just another part of his training. Either way, they walked together, neither’s arm slipping from around the other, as they made their way down the path, then down the side trail that led to the mossy roots by the lake which they had claimed as their spot.

When Fox sat down, he ran his arm along the line of her waist before catching her wrist, pulling her down with him until she lay across his torso, one hand stroking down her back, the other holding resting on the base of her neck. She could hear Fox’s rapid heartbeat under her cheek and patiently waited in silence for him to speak.

“I want to take vows with you.”

Riyo’s breath caught in her throat and her body stiffened under Fox’s touch.

“Not marriage, necessarily, I don’t believe that I could legally marry you anyways considering I’m some other being’s personal property. But we’ve been together for two years now. We live together. If you’ll have me, I would like to take a vow with you.”

Riyo was glad that she was nestled in Fox’s arms so that when she spoke, surprising even herself, she couldn’t see the look of crushing betrayal on his face. “No.”

Fox’s gentle stroking ended. “Okay.”

She’d have given anything to never hear how defeated his voice was in that single word again. “Wait, Fox, that’s not what you think it means.” She’d have to face the damage she had wrought. She pushed herself up to face him, hesitantly taking his face in her hands. Fox’s expression was drawn into a look of pain, but underneath it was the expression she feared more. Acceptance. “Fox. I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. But I also want what’s best for you.”

Fox reached up and tenderly wiped a tear from her cheek. “I understand.”

“No, you don’t. When we met, Fox, you were a soldier. You served the Republic under an oath that you never had a choice in taking.”

“I have a choice now.”

“And I want to respect that. And I know that this is the most comfortable thing for you. You were born to take oaths without question, to define yourself by them. I want you to take a few months, just a few, without being bound to anyone. Not the Republic, not the Empire, not me. Just take a few months to be yourself, free from any covenant.” She was really crying now, and Fox’s soft touch across her cheeks had ceased as he took in what she was saying. He had yet to break eye contact with her, and she could see the gears turning in his head as he tried to find a response. She decided it would take him too long without more incentive. “After that, I’ll have you, Fox, if you’ll have me.”

That was enough. She watched the tension leave his body all at once as he brought his hand from the side of her face to cup the back of her head and bring their foreheads together. She let her body melt into his, her hands on his jaw sliding back to wrap around his head until they were as close as they could be.

“Okay.” He said with all the hope that had been lacking when he had uttered the word before. “Okay. Yeah. I promise-.”

Riyo raised a hand to his lips. “Don’t promise. Just be mine.”

“I am yours.”

She almost chided him for making another promise before she realized that to him it wasn’t a promise, but a fact. “And I am yours, Fox.”

And for the man who had never owned anything before in his life, that was more than enough.

---

Riyo would think back on that moment for years. It came back to her the night before she and Fox took their vows, when she had brought her mother down to the lakeside to show her what her daughter’s life had become. It came back to her the day that Fox had brought home a handful of credits for the first time, when she had flung herself into his arms and kissed him despite the grease coating his body. And it came back to her tonight, when she was draped across Fox’s body on their couch, watching a holodrama. The two empty cups on the floor and the smell of alcohol on his breath served to remind her of what he had overcome.

When a news break began to roll, Fox turned the volume down and raised a fist to his mouth as he yawned.

“You’re turning into an old man.” Riyo said fondly, reaching up to run her fingers through his greying hair. The years of stress Fox had endured had not been kind.

“I’m only fifteen, Riyo.”

“Almost sixteen. And here I am, nearly ten years your senior.”

“What a cradle robber.”

“Horrendously so. Give it a few more years and that will really be funny.” She took in his face for a few more moments. “No. I’m going to find a way to save you.”

Fox smiled down at her confidently. “I know.”

The news break ended, and Riyo lay her head back on Fox’s shoulder as the holodrama started back up. When Riyo found her hand pressing on the fading scar in the middle of Fox’s torso, she took a moment to run her fingers over it and say a quick ‘thank you’ to the Goddess for Fox’s recovery. Her husband had healed, they had been able to provide for themselves, and Riyo’s world was at peace. For the former senator who had once held a world in her hands and the clone who had never known anything but war, this was enough.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Severed Bonds (ch. 2)

Summary: Edge, Jedi Knight, is lost in a Galaxy without the Jedi Order and the only one left to him is one who already betrayed them all.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Star Wars AU, Darkfic, Angst, Minor Character Deaths, Friends to Enemies to ?, Hatesex…?, Trauma, Implied Possible Insanity, Rough Sex

Note: Okay, so this was supposed to be a one-shot. Then @cheapbourbon added this gorgeous art to the previous chapter. 

So gorgeous, I could cry. But oh, now it’s on! So here’s another chapter. 

Read the tags! This is dark and angsty, but it hurt too good to stop. 

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

I can save him.

With space travel there always came a certain level of boredom. Edge was accustomed to it after years of traveling to planet after planet, missions taking him from one end of the galaxy to another. From elegant shuttles to broken down freighters, he traveled in them all.

This ship was small but decently appointed. There was a game table with a variety of solo and group functions and a fairly extensive digital library available.

He no longer turned on the Holonet channels, not after the first few weeks. Any news was all propaganda, bleating about the fall of the Jedi and every word was layered with the unspoken knowledge of the end of the Republic

There was nothing he could do to stop it, as useless as trying to hold back an avalanche. One Jedi Knight against the Empire? No. Eventually the stones would stop falling and once they settled, their time would come. He needed to be patient, and curb any wildly suicidal plans that surfaced.

That left him here on this ship. Trying to adjust to the situation the same way he was adjusting to the new face that gazed out at him from the mirror. The medical droids did their best but there was no bacta tank on a ship this size. Even if they could somehow afford a treatment in the future, it was far too late. The crack in his skull left by the blaster shot was a part of him now.

I can save him.

Edge was in his own room, kneeling on a meditation mat as he went through his morning routine. Rus was somewhere on the ship, likely performing maintenance. Edge couldn’t say where. During their waking hours, he kept the bond between them tightly closed, struggling to radiate the serenity that befit a Jedi Knight.

Not that he thought any of that calm made it through Rus’s seamlessly tight shields, but he couldn't keep the bond open. Handling the constant barrage of anger and fear from Rus was beyond his skills and he couldn’t help wondering how he coped with it himself. Perhaps he didn’t. It was miraculous he had any sanity left in him.

Their days were spent mostly apart, their nights in Rus's bed and only then would Edge would open himself up. He loosened his hold on the bond between them while Rus did the same, both of them lowering barriers and shields, sharing the broken wastelands of Rus’s mind.

That openness allowed Edge glimpses of memory that were not his own. He took glimpses only, slivers of what the Sith had done to him in the name of training. Even those hints were horrifying, steeled as Edge was against the sight. Perhaps it was a testament to his strength that Rus survived it at all, but not as one unscathed. Rus had done terrible things, true, but the price for it had already been paid in screams and terror.

The Sith Lord found him so quickly after he’d left the Jedi. Rus barely grasping at straws of freedom before another caught hold of him, and Edge hadn’t known, he couldn’t have known, how lost, how vulnerable Rus had been to their slippery persuasion.

He couldn’t have known because he’d severed their partnership, all those years ago, after the incident on the freighter. Thinking that Rus needed distance, an opportunity to regain balance. Never expecting to discover he’d abandon the Jedi entirely not a week after they’d returned to the Temple on Coruscant.

When the gossip finally made its way to him, Edge tried to seek Rus out, searched for him with what pitiful fragments of information he’d left. Thinking perhaps if he could speak to him, he could bring him back home.

Edge followed rumors and possible leads into the lowest levels of the planet, until he risked harsh reprimand himself, and only then did he return to the Temple.

If he could have known, if he’d caught so much as a whisper of the truth, he never would have abandoned the task, but the past could not be unmade.

It was years later when whispers of the return of the Sith carried to them an unknown name but a familiar face.

Edge hadn’t wanted to believe; none survived as witness, but he saw the data disk from the first attack. He saw what Rus had become.

And knew what he had to do.

I can save him.

The thought had been a constant pulse in his mind. He said no such thing to the Council when he’d met with them to demand to be put on the team sent out to take down the Sith.

He did not refer to Rus as the designation he’d come to be known as. The title of Darth should not belong to Rus.

I can save him.

He said no such thing aloud, but he never attempted to hide it, if such a thing would have even been possible before a gathering of the most powerful Jedi Masters. He only spoke with calm insistence to be included on the roster of those hunting.

As Edge stood before them, he could feel them weighing his intent, feel their doubts in him. It was Yoda himself who spoke first, “Allow this, we will.”

None of the others questioned his judgment and Edge joined the others in what was to be an attempt to seek out the Sith. For Edge, it would be no attempt. He would either bring Rus back with him or kill him himself. Either way, Edge intended to grant him a measure of peace.

This was not an outcome he could have ever anticipated.

Edge opened his sockets and rose slowly from the meditation mat. He ached, a weariness not of the body but the soul.

I can save him.

Having seen into Rus’s mind, his soul, Edge was no longer as certain as he had once been.

But he refused to give up.

There was nothing else he could do.

~~*~~

It was the distinctive hum of a lightsaber in motion that drew him. Coming from one of the empty holds and Edge unconsciously walked faster, suddenly eager to see.

Rus was a skilled fighter; never as precise as Edge, who moved with clean, swift strokes. But there were few at the Temple who could have matched his sinuous grace; Rus was breathtaking in his fluidity, embracing the Force, letting it pour through him as he moved.

He flowed through katas, shifted stances as smoothly as others took a breath. He moved with his sockets closed, and between one step and the next, he became ethereal, as one with the Force.

Watching him was almost a form of meditation itself, a gift of the Universe to any who saw.

It had been years since he’d last seen that beauty and Edge couldn’t hold back his yearning to see it again.

Entering the room would be foolhardy, and instead, Edge stood in the doorway, looking in.

Rus had shed his outer cloak and his boots, standing in a dark tunic and trousers with the pale bones of his feet a startling contrast. He was moving swiftly through katas, saber forms that Edge didn’t recognize. The crimson glow of his lightsaber glared against the walls and instead of contentment, unease stirred in Edge’s soul.

This…this was not his Rus. Not these quick, vicious moves. Abrupt and cursory, not a single movement overextended, no motion wasted.

He was skilled, there was no question, but every swing of his lightsaber was filled with shifting aggression and brutality that was too painful to watch for long.

It was a work of art destroyed, mutilated and profane.

He came to an abrupt halt before Edge could move, panting softly and wiping sweat carelessly on his sleeve.

Edge didn’t move, only stood in the doorway. He couldn’t be sure Rus would even speak to him. He often didn’t, brushing past him as he went on about his day, and only at night in the bed they now shared did he say anything.

Once, he would have thought ruefully about how he might shut Rus up. Always too exuberant for a Jedi, chattering excitedly and Edge often indulged him for a time before coaxing him to meditate with him perhaps sparring to calm him. Once, so long ago now.

Rus only met Edge’s uncertain gaze starkly. The Dark Side took its toll and the face that looked into his own was gaunt, pale. “we’ll need to stop again soon to refuel. do you have a preference where we go?”

Edge couldn’t have even said where they were now. “No.”

“great. we’ll stop at jabiim, then. always cleansing.” There was a sardonic note to that, but Edge couldn’t interpret why until they landed.

He understood when they got off the ship. Rain was pouring down, soaking through their cloaks almost immediately.

Rus leaned in to be heard over the roar of falling water, “if you want to see about getting some supplies, i’ll work on getting us fuel.”

Edge nodded mutely and together they walked towards the town. Muddy paths gave way to roads and large canopies were strung over the town itself, a huddle of plastacrete buildings already showing wear from the constant rainfall.

They were barely out of the rain when a ripple of warning came through the Force. Edge’s lightsaber was out before the first blaster shot came at them, sending it back towards the one who fired it.

The shooter fell with a scream but there were others already trying to surround them, flanking them to cut off any path of escape.

At his back, Rus was moving, defending, and in that moment the years melted away. They moved together as one, as they had when they were younger, a lifetime ago.

Every movement was guarded by the other, Rus’s lightsaber filled the gaps left by Edge’s and between the two of them their defenses were as impenetrable as any Jedi pair should be.

It was difficult to see through the gloom but from what he could, Edge didn’t recognize any of them. Only strangers who were shooting not to wound but to kill and they returned that intent in kind.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of one creeping too close, his weapon aimed at Rus and Edge lashed out thoughtlessly, cutting down the assassin even as he let out a garbled scream that ended with a swift strike of a lightsaber.

It was over as swiftly as it began. Edge stood over that last assailant, looking down at him.

He stared upward, breath gurgling with blood and water, until he went still and the rain began fill his sightless eyes. The rest were scattered around them, dead or dying, and as Edge watched, Rus leaned in close to one who still moved, the glowing blade of his lightsaber hovered over the attacker’s chest.

Edge couldn’t hear what Rus said to him over the rain and the roaring in his own head, but he could the screams as Rus allowed his lightsaber to droop, skimming the man’s torso, the stench of burning clothes and flesh suddenly vivid in the air.

A second time, a third. The man’s lips moved when he stopped screaming again, whispering some answer, and finally Rus dealt a killing blow, deactivating his lightsaber even as he spat on the corpse.

That…that was not the clean, easy death a Jedi granted, and Edge staggered back a step, out from under the canopy and into the storm. Away from the vision of death striding towards him.

Rus stopped, keeping back several paces, and said nothing.

The rain dripped down Edge’s skull, stinging in crack running through it, but the clean taste of it filled his mouth, clearing away the sharpness of metal and fear. Edge swallowed and managed to ask, “Did he have any information?”

“enough. they’re bounty hunters,” Rus sneered. He picked up one of the blasters, examining it with critical distaste. “it seems we’ve managed to get quite a price on our heads in a short time. hope they got an advance payment.”

He crouched down and started rifling through their drenched clothes, searching pockets and pouches.

Edge stared, somehow shocked even after what he’d just seen. “What are you doing?”

“we still need fuel,” Rus glanced up at him, rain dripping down his gaunt skull, and his grin was sly but pointed. “unless you’d prefer i find another way to earn it?”

After spending his nights in Rus’s mind, he knew exactly how he’d been earning fuel and his soul clenched in rejection. Edge bit his tongue and looked away. From Rus’s growing smirk, he knew the unspoken answer. He returned to his search. In another moment, Edge crouched down to help.

Between the credits they found and the weapons, it came to a tidy sum.

“this should last as a while,” Rus said brightly, a mockery of past cheer and his grin bordered on maniacal. “maybe we’ll get lucky and the emperor will send a few more of these our way. think we better stick together to do the shopping, just in case.”

Edge said nothing, only followed Rus as he strode off. He looked back once and saw others begin creeping out of the buildings, scurrying to search the bodies for anything left of value. They were stripping off their clothes and boots when Edge looked away.

He turned his back to it all and followed Rus.

~~*~~

That evening they were back in space, their fuel reserves brimming, and Edge was once again kneeling in meditation, reaching out through the vast emptiness for any survivors.

Uselessly.

Every night his attempts grew shorter, less fervent, every night his diligence slipped. But as he was about to stop for the night, ready to seek Rus out and fight for any salvation he could for him, it happened. For the first time since he’d woken on this ship, he felt it. Hardly more than a whisper of a touch but it was one he knew, one he’d known since he was a child in the crèche.

Yoda.

For one brief moment, all the gentle warmth and comfort layered over that unfathomable power was joined to his, pulsing fervently in him.

Then it snapped away and was gone, leaving him empty once more.

No. No, no, no.

His soul pounding, Edge could barely hold back the tide of his desperation, casting out again and again, as far as he could reach until exhaustion forced him to stop.

Yoda was alive, or had been moments before. Maybe he was in hiding? Edge knew that seeking others left him open to be found by other Force sensitives and Yoda was far too important to them for him to be caught simply by Edge’s needy despair. That could be the reason he’d broken the connection.

Or perhaps Yoda felt the taint of darkness from Rus through him.

Slowly, Edge rose to his feet, the bare bones clicking on the deck as he walked out.

Rus was in his quarters sitting on the bed, stripped down to his undershirt and thin trousers. He looked up when Edge walked in but before he could say a word, Edge grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him to his feet. Pushed him a few stumbling steps back until his shoulders were against the wall.

He didn’t fight, his sockets startled and wide, another disconcerting glimpse into the past at the person he had been before.

Every night it was a question whether to fuck him or kill him and every night, Edge knew that Rus would accept either one.

He crowded in close, pushing Rus against the wall with his own body. Seized his jaw in one hand and took his mouth. It yielded as it always did, Rus needed no seduction, no coaxing gentleness. He allowed any touch and did not bite back his cries, let them spill out between them.

His clothing was hardly a barrier, easily torn away. Soon enough he was hitched up against the wall, nearly bent in half with his knees hooked over Edge’s shoulders while Edge drove roughly into him again and again. The contrast of the sweet tightness of his body against the wide openness of his soul was nearly unbearable.

Always, he laid his soul open to Edge, making no attempt to hide what he had done. Or what had been done to him. Gutting his memories for Edge to behold and he still only took glimpses, slivers, enough to understand without having to face the brunt of it.

But with those memories there was also the now. Surfacing through the shadows and layers of pain, something purer was hidden, buried away and only now exposed. Something untouched by the taint within Rus’s soul and Edge reached for it with a thought, drawing it out from its hiding place.

A remnant of fractured beauty, a love that somehow escaped corruption and it shone only for him.

Edge allowed that remnant to settle within him, biting back a groan at the warmth it brought, cradling his own soul in sweetness. He slowed, gentling his movements, rocking into Rus with deliberate care and sent his own pulse of emotion into that remnant. Rus’s sudden, guttural cry was one of shocked pleasure, of need.

“oh, please,” Rus sobbed. He had no leverage, pinned against the wall, but his hands clutched furiously, clinging to him.

Edge caught his chin with a shaking hand and kissed him, as messily and visceral as the emotions boiling inside him. Orgasm struck with the force of a blow and he came with blinding rush, dimly feeling Rus do the same, quivering, nearly weeping against him.

They slid down the wall together, still clinging to each other. Collapsing into a chaotic embrace of spindly limbs, each trying to get closer to the other. They lay there for a long moment, catching their breath.

With delicate care, Edge began picking his way loose from Rus’s thoughts, carefully extracting himself from their bond and pulling up his shields again. Rus only let out a single, hitching sob but made no protest. He staggered to his feet, tugging Edge with him to the bed and they settled together in the blankets, still aching and slick with sweat.

I can save him.

That endless cry, born in his thoughts the moment he’d seen what Rus had become, dwindled and went silent. Edge held Rus close, petting his skull with trembling fingers as his Jedi calm crumbled beneath despair, because how could he save Rus if he couldn’t even save himself.

-finis

Read Chapter 3