The broken red thread
Title : The broken red thread.
Pairing : Unrequited DSF exile x DSM Revan.
Summary : In this world, covered in everyone's respective nature, the encounter and parting that you gave me shall never be forgotten. No matter what, to me, you'll always be my Lord.
You can't see my feelings.
You can't hear the sound of my heart.
Your touch is out of my reach.
The taste of your kiss is beyond my wildest dreams.
Your smell of grass after the rain is replaced with the smell of blood.
The broken red thread.
There is no emotion, there is peace.
That sort of feelings...
There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.
That kind of nonsense...
There is no passion, there is serenity.
Shouldn't be allowed!
There is no death, there is the Force.
But it's because of this, that I could have come this far.
Her first memory was of his hunger.
A deep wrenching ache coring at the inner walls of his flesh, always begging for relief but nevertheless cannot be acknowledged,
not when it is so starkly reflected in the pale, drawn faces all around him.
On the battlefield, it is a disgrace to feel pain and fear. The economy of war is a lean science, with no room for imprecision and leniency.
Within the dark side, it is a disgrace to feel hunger on an empty belly. Courage is a commodity. When the blade writes the rules, the force favor the strongest man.
It did favored him.
The lord of the Sith Revan.
"I'll always prevent you from dying."
Revan's yellow orbs flashed in the dark.
"You're much weaker than me. So I'll save you again and again..."
Her hands clutched, he put his right hand under her chin to raise her head.
"You are mine Satele, until I said otherwise...you won't die."
He was close. Too close. His presence was so intoxicating that she seem to have forgotten how to breath.
His sadistic smirk grew bigger.
"Don't worry, I won't let my precious toy die, you won't die...and neither will I."
Her own yellow eyes widen as he marked her neck.
It didn't bleed long but his words would be graved inside her forever.
Her second memory was of his hatred.
Satele the woman they call the exile, cannot have known hunger, and yet her courage has shined out from behind her green eyes like a gem at the bottom of a moonlit well.
Her courage bests him again and again but courage untested is but an untempered sword. So that time again she finds herself gasping in the dirt. Either strangled by him with the force or beaten.
She was standing in front of her lord and master waiting for his judgment.
"You had mercy for that...that fiend. That ridiculous excuse of a Jedi! In which side are you? Damn it!"
Silence was her only answer.
Furry was the only emotion that reflected his eyes.
He took her arm violently and...
A fast sound echo in room.
He slapped her in the face. It wasn't the first time he did this but it hurt more than before.
"If you are going to betray me, prepare yourself for the consequence." He didn't yelled but his voice was very cold.
"I won't let my precious toy leave me like this."
He left the room without a second look.
Maybe it was better that way.
Because if he did, he would have notice.
Wet cheeks, widen blurry yellow eyes, torments and fears grew stronger each second.
Faint red marks on her cheek because of the slap and blood pouring out of her bitten lower lip.
Her third memory was of his depravity.
The first time Revan failed a battle and barely made alive from it. For her a simple training between him and her. For him a serious between two equals. Yet...
In disbelief, he took refuge in what he knew. He starved himself further, shores up power until his body is crackling with it, threaten to split even as he stretched himself thinner and thinner, milk skin over iron bones.
But still it was not enough, and soon he was back where he started, choking on dust. When she saw that he didn't want her help, she left.
She never turns around, never looks back at her fallen opponent (she doesn't even realize his poor state...probably because of the mask) ,
and more than even the humiliation of defeat, it is this casual "arrogance" with which she confidently turns her back on him that has Revan's vision filming over with rage.
Again and again, they rise and fight, and again and again, he lose and fall.
She became his obsession, Satele became stronger and stronger.
And Revan couldn't stand it. His toy was supposed to be the weak one, yet she wasn't trying to take his place as the lord of the Sith.
She knew he thought that she was pitying him and hated her for it. She didn't mind.
As said before, she became his obsession.
Just as she wanted. She had more signification than being his toy.
Revan may be the strongest of the Jedi and Sith, but that doesn't make him any less prey to their curse.
The more power you have, the more you want.
Already his time is running out: each day spent on the battlefield is one less day he will spend in the world.
He rakes his fingers into the dirt, cracks his bloodied mouth and sucks in a sour breath, and with it, overwhelming esurience.
More must be given.
His two last memories were of hunger and blood. Like twin streams, they crawl through the veins of his life, he howls with a famished grief as the taste of his toy's blood fills his mouth.
Such is the price to pay for power.
She was soaked with tears (his or hers?) and with a cold stare she said :
"My heart was entwined by darkness."
She placed her left hand over her chest.
"I, the exile, the one who destroy worlds, has only wanted your acknowledgement and your love."
Her eyes slowly became empty and her last words were :
"To me, you will always be my only lord."
Satele's body turning cold, choking on the smell of blood, her voice and her breathing and her pulse are disappearing.
She was right there but Revan wasn't able to hear anything, he could only hear his pulse pounding like madness.
He was only able to run away.
"I am stronger!" those words came back inside his mind again and again.
Lady exile Satele for the sake of the weak Lord Revan ended up with her life stolen by his hand.
Everything to be stronger.
Everything for power.
"I am stronger!"
The payment for having run away is cruel.
His scream and torment would haunt the galaxy forever.
"On the battlefield, it is a disgrace to feel pain and fear. The economy of war is a lean science, with no room for imprecision and leniency."
"Within the dark side, it is a disgrace to feel hunger on an empty belly. Courage is a commodity. When the blade writes the rules, the force favor the strongest man."
--These are absolutely brilliant lines. I mean that with all my heart. Magnifique!
You were right the first time. Yes, I am "une femme". There are girls on the Internet!!! :)
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