[fic] The Old Republic: Queen of Hearts

[mshcherbatskaya]

She could have been a Czerka regional manager with the way she was dressed, a stylish, black business suit with a long fitted jacket and knee-length skirt, and she wore it to good effect. It showed off her figure without being immodest, and with her upswept black hair, emphasized the marble pallor of her skin. She walked through the entry hall with the perfect ease of a woman accustomed to admiration, which she got even there, in the detached, meditative quiet of the Jedi temple.

 

"Pardon me," she said to the young man who sat behind a rather official looking desk, "I would like to speak with one of the Jedi Masters, please."

 

"Um, well, I'm a Jedi," he offered. She gave him a little smile, warm, understanding, faintly amused. "Can I help you?"

 

"That's very kind but I'm afraid I really must speak with one of the Masters." Her continuing smile was not flirtatious but he blushed anyway.

 

"Well, I'm not sure if they are available right now. They are awfully busy."

 

"Oh, that's quite all right. I'll wait." She sat down and crossed her legs. The young man watched her knees slide beneath the hem of her skirt, then looked away.

 

"May I tell them why you are here, what you want to talk to talk to them about?" His voice cracked, he looked down at the floor, then at her legs, then away across the room, then back to his desk.

 

"I'm sorry, but no."

 

They sat in silence for a bit. She watched him look for something to look at, the little smile still on her lips. Finally, she sighed and said, "Perhaps if I show you my credentials...?"

 

"Um, yes, I mean, maybe I could..."

 

From her purse she drew out a white mask and a slim red-and-gold Lightsaber. "My name is Darth Erzabet, and I'd like to speak with a Jedi Master now, please."

 

...

 

Corev strode up the steps to the Jedi temple, his footsteps echoing through the front courtyard. He approached the front doors and pushed them open to reveal the main room, taking a moment to absorb the peaceful atmosphere. It had been awhile since the last time he had been here but he wasn't there to stare at the scenery.

 

He approached the main counter where a young Jedi stood.

 

"Hello Master Jedi, I'm here to see the Master Nahila."

 

"Do you have an appointment?"

 

"No, but tell her Corev Saal is here to see her."

 

"I will, but without an appointment you aren't likely to get in to see her. She has been busy lately."

 

"I will wait over here while you tell her, then,” he said, and walked away leaving the young Jedi dumbfounded. He leaned against a counter nearby as he waited for the Jedi at the counter to call Nahila, hoping the boy wouldn't wait too long.

 

Corev looked over towards the entrance of the temple to see a women walking up the steps. Normally he wouldn't have paid much attention to some woman coming to visit the temple, even if she was Force Sensitive, which this one seemed to be. It was a Jedi temple and he was sure a lot of people came to visit them. At first he had assumed her to be a Jedi herself, but something about the way she looked and carried herself showed that she wasn't. As she approached the counter and walked past him he noticed something else different about her. She felt different. He couldn't explain it, but even though she was weak in the Force there was something special about her, he just couldn't place what.

 

He watched as she talked to the young Jedi at the counter. Watched as he gazed at her with admiration, even adoration. It was as if she was a young lady flirting with him and he was acting like a young boy tripping over himself to please her. There was something very odd about that, about her.

 

She said something about showing credentials and pulled something out. He stared dumbfounded at the mask and sabre in her hand. She was a Sith and she had just brought herself into a Jedi temple. What her purpose was he did not know but his business with Nahila had just become more urgent.

 

...

 

Cain rested his palm over the hilt of his lightsaber, concealed under his robe, but still able to feel the contours, scratches and bumps through the cloth. He was told that this habit was a habit of those who felt nervous or insecure, but Cain was just restless. He already felt as if he had done a hard days work and he'd only been working for an hour, but that was okay. In fact, it was relief. Every ache, every bead of sweat was a reminder that he had a purpose. Sure, that purpose was not as...glamorous as being a 'hero' in the Mandalorian Wars, nor was it as rewarding as his life as a Jedi in this very same Temple. However, no matter how insignificant his work may be now, it was still a goal, a meaning to hold on to when all other meanings had vanished.

 

Zez-Kai Ell had been a hypocrite, shying away from a war his own teachings demanded be fought, and Revan had been a coward, wasting the lives of his followers so he himself could reap the rewards. As far as Cain was concerned, labour in the Temple where he grew up was a small purpose, but it was not a false purpose.

 

His hand left the hilt as his reflection ceased - thinking about the past caused him nothing but hurt and regret. He was having enough troubles dealing with the daily fatigue and stress that came with this job, and to add on unnecessary emotional pain was always enough to send him spiraling into a pit of melodramatic despair, which it did as Cain punched randomly at the interface of the console in a momentary lapse of control. He did this daily, at different times, but always at least once, and this was understandable. He was a joke within the Temple. He should have been offered aid and tranquility, but instead he was cast aside, left to rot working a desk in the lobby. A Jedi only in title, Cain was left at that desk as a warning, a reminder of what happened to those who let themselves be 'corrupted', which was ludicrous. Cain had lived, truly lived for the first time in his life in those wars, and instead of being crowned a hero he was abandoned by his 'Master', Revan, and rejected by the Jedi. The Council still maintained the outright lie that no Jedi had paid for their crimes from the wars - a lie that, to them, may as well be fact. A fallen Jedi is no Jedi at all in their eyes, and a fallen Jedi can never truly pay for his 'crimes', so, as another bead of sweat fell from his frustrated brow, Fallen Jedi Cain immaturely sent the console into fits with a series of random commands

 

His concealed rage would have continued to vent in the form of technology-abuse for a while, as his fatigue and suppressed emotional pain built up in turn, had she not walked into the lobby. She had asked for a Jedi, and had most likely missed the sarcastic tone of the little bastard who'd told her Cain was a 'Jedi.' When he looked up from the computer error and data dump he'd managed to trigger, she stood before him, so self-contained in her beauty. The Force did not flow strongly through this woman, but what did flow through came out...changed.

 

Afterwards, he swept through the Temple, telling everyone he met of this woman, this Sith, who had simply walked in and handed him her lightsaber and mask, confident that she would be accepted where Cain himself had not.

 

...

 

Nahila entered through the bronze doors into the room where Corev Saal stood admiring a picture of some past Jedi.

 

"Ah Corev, I am so happy to see you, especially today. As you can imagine, things have been a bit...hectic,” she said as she took a seat behind the desk.

 

He looked at his old friend for a minute before responding. "The Sith seem stronger than anything we could have imagined, so this is unexpected to say the least. I could see why you would be a little busy."

 

Nahila rested her elbows on her desk and looked at him, "We've lost so many of our own to them, so many who left to join the Sith, and then finally the reverse happens, one Sith abandons their own to join us and I find no comfort in it at all."

 

He remembered the strange woman he saw when he first entered the temple. One of the weirdest moments in his long life. "Ah, yes the Sith I saw in the lobby. There is something odd about that one."

 

"Oh indeed there is. What she did is proof enough of that."

 

"She isn't very strong in the Force. How did she survive among the Sith?"

 

"That's one of the reasons I kept you waiting so long--I've been finding out as much about her as I possibly can since she arrived.” Nahila picked up a datapad on her desk and frowned at it. “The more I know about her, the stranger she becomes. She has never, so far as I know, fought a single battle against anyone, Sith or Jedi, and yet her following is very large, a planetary base and a small star fleet."

 

He was shocked and it showed in his face as he moved closer to the desk. "How? The Sith function on battle, they fight for everything. How would she have risen so high without having to fight to get there? That isn't very Sith-like, to say the least."

 

She sat forward more in her chair and looked at him, "It goes beyond that even. The Sith are very competitive, we know that, every Sith tries to kill the one above them but her followers are loyal to her."

 

"Loyal is not a word I word use to describe any Sith. That is odd indeed. Do you have any idea how she inspires such loyalty in her followers?" His curiosity was spiked. This could be some sort of technique taught to her. He'd studied the Sith and their methods for a long time, even left the Jedi to do it, and never heard of anything like it.

 

"Her base stands ready, but no one has stepped forward to claim it. When another Sith Lord tried to take control of it, they defended it in her name! They are waiting for her to return! I have never heard of such a thing!"

 

He shook his head, "Nor have I."

 

"Battle Meditation could create such an effect, but not at such a distance, and not for such a long time, nor does she show any signs of having such power."

 

He thought for a moment about the possibility. "I have seen Battle Meditation work on people. It inspires people to keep fighting, gives them confidence. It also causes your enemies to lose hope. I have never seen it cause such devotion ..."

 

She shook her head and leaned back in her chair, "I have no explanation for it. Old friend, I have a favor to ask."

 

He raised his eyebrows, "A favor?"

 

"If I keep her locked up in solitary confinement with a neural restriction collar on her, I will never find out what she is up to. Eventually, we will need to let her act. She says that she has come to be redeemed, to return to the Light, and perhaps that is true but I have my doubts, as you might well expect."

 

He shrugged. "I have not heard of a Sith of her standing ever returning to the Light."

 

She sighed. "And yet these days we accept that even the greatest Jedi fall to the dark. Has this war made such pessimists of us, I wonder? As you said though, she is like no other Sith--perhaps she is telling the truth. I am both more hopeful and more suspicious of her than I have ever been of any potential convert."

 

He thought on it a moment, thinking back on what he had seen of this Darth Erzebet. "I suppose it is possible that she means what she says, but it is also possible this is some sort of trick."

 

"Exactly. I will assign one of the Jedi Masters to her, to try to determine why she is here, and to guide her back to the Light if such a thing is possible."

 

"And what is my part in this?"

 

"She will not know that you were ever a Jedi. Even I, who was a padawan with you, cannot feel the Force moving in you, though I know that it does, strongly. I want you to be her guard. She will think you have no strength in the Force, so she will either make you her target or she will ignore you. If she is trying some sort of trick, that is. If she is sincere, given her position within the Sith, they will certainly try to kill her. If they do, she will need a bodyguard and again, the Sith will ignore you or strike you first. Either way, the surprise should work to our advantage. Will you do this for me, old friend?" It was true that, in seeking to fully understand both sides of the Force, he had learned to conceal himself from Jedi and Sith alike. When he joined the military, no one knew his was anything other than an ordinary man who happened to be unusually good with a vibroblade.

 

He smiled at her reassuringly. "Your plan makes sense. I will do it but not just because of the sense it makes, I am also curious to find out how she does what she does. Finding out how she inspires loyalty could be very beneficial." And, he didn't say, very interesting as well.

 

"Yes, I agree. But do not be too curious. I do not want you to find out first-hand how it is she draws others too her. I know that others have called you disloyal but I know better, I know that--"

 

"My leaving the Jedi Order was not disloyal, it was my choice." He frowned, looking at her intently. That had always been a sore spot with him, their refusal to acknowledge the value of fully understanding both sides of the Force, and their condemnation of the “arrogant curiosity” that lead to his supposed fall.

 

"--you have always been a person who thinks for himself," she continued, giving him a reassuring smile, "and I need that in you most of all. Keep your guard up, and keep your distance."

 

"I understand that caution is needed around her, she is Sith after all. I will be careful."

 

She smiled in relief. "Good. The Republic has of course been all over me with questions about her, about what she is doing here. Since you have been an officer with the fleet, I will tell them that I have assigned you to her as their liaison."

 

"Yes, that also eliminates suspicion as to why I would be assigned as her guard and not another Jedi."

 

"Oh, there will be a Jedi assigned to her as well. He will be both her guard and her teacher, if she is honest in her desire for redemption." She pauses for a moment before continuing, "She does not seem very strong in the Force nor do I feel the Dark Side working strongly within her. The strength of passion I usually find in the Sith is lacking in her. She is serene as any Jedi Master."

 

"My own ability shows that you should not place all your trust in what you sense."

 

"That may be the truest thing I have heard said today."

 

He frowned again, "We can only hope that she is telling the truth and this does not cost the Jedi more then they can spare."

 

Nahila frowned in agreement. "You are too right--the Jedi cannot spare anything at all. This war has almost destroyed us, and though Revan has gone, still every day costs us more."

 

As he looked out the window, his frown became more worried. "I fear this war will cost the Jedi everything, but if we play our cards right we may just make it out of this."

 

The smile returned to her face as his comment brought back memories. "I was always terrible at pazaak, but as I recall, you were an excellent player, so I will leave this particular card in your hands then." She got up out of her chair with a little grunt. She was remarkably fit for her age, but the years were starting to tell. "I'm afraid I must go. There is a Senator waiting to talk to me, or lecture me--you know how they are."

 

"Indeed I do." He raised one eyebrow in both irritation and amusement.

 

"He will want to know what I am doing about this. I am glad to be able to tell him that I have assigned both a powerful Jedi and a decorated Republic soldier to the case. He need not know they are one and the same person."

 

He laughed looking at her, "I am glad I could talk to you again Nahila. It has been a pleasure."

 

She answered with a laugh of her own, though her laugh was just a little sad. "The pleasure has been all mine, Corev, and someday perhaps we can visit for no other reason than the enjoyment of one another's company. But this day is not that day, so I must go."

 

"You are right, I will leave you now." He stood to leave, but reluctant to go. It had been such a long time since he had seen her.

 

"The young man at the desk will show you to her. He's taken quite an interest in her. Only natural under the circumstances, since he was the very first to meet her, but make sure his interest does not...increase, will you?"

 

"I will watch him as well as the others who are in contact with her."

 

"Thank you. Good-bye, my friend, I am sure I will speak with you later.

 

"Good-bye I hope we can talk more at a later date." He turned around and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

 

 

------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

IMPORTANT NOTES:

 

This story was written as a cooperative group project by members of the Escapist. You could call it an RP, but when you set out to achieve writing that focuses on character and psychology development rather than 'pew!pew!' action, when the characters have backstory rather than weapons and equipment lists, when you encourage people to write rather that just 'play', it starts to turn into something else. It turns into fiction.

 

...

 

The Escapist QoH Crew:

 

CHAPTER ONE

 

mshcherbatskaya (Erzabet and Nahila) – story creator and executive director in charge of making people re-write their stuff because she's the boss and she can

 

Tsurugi (Corev) – assistant director in charge of making us realize that this thing is getting really long and also kind of awesome

 

Qayin (Cain) – assistant director in charge of Emo

 

Flanked (Ketan) – assistant director in charge of flaking out on his writing responsibilities

[mshcherbatskaya]

I'd love any feedback on this. I'm relatively new to this fandom and would particularly like to know if I've screwed up the canon in any way. This is actually the first installment in a big project, and among other things, I'm wondering if I'm posting it in chunks that are too big.

[Sabretooth]

Well to start with, it blew my mind. This is the best piece of fiction I've read in CEC for quite a while now, because it appears to be only one that is sincere. Grammar and pacing is excellent for the most part, characters are deep, dialogue reasonable: one of the very few fics I really enjoyed reading. It's nice to see a fic with refined content and editing once in a while.

 

I was a little disappointed when I saw that it was a collaborative RP fic, because I quite honestly thought we had an expert writer in our midst. Not that it's bad, but I had developed higher expectations. Bottomline: this is one hell of a fic, and I look forward to more! Welcome to the forums, goddamnit!

 

The installments may be a little too big. I managed to read through because I liked the writing and content, but people like Mr_BFA get scared by big blocks of text.

 

Also, you may be interested in Dantooine Theatre Company, our roleplaying forum which could use some more stuff now. It used to be a lot more active before...

 

Anyways, keep it up you people.

[Endorenna]

I liked it! I don't mind things this length. I'm not sure what Sabretooth means by 'the only one that is sincere', but I still like it--a lot.

[Rev7]

I liked it! I don't mind things this length. I'm not sure what Sabretooth means by 'the only one that is sincere', but I still like it--a lot.

Sabre has special abilities.

 

It was a good chapter. I like how you described the part when Cain was nervous and caressed his lightsaber. Really good job with that. Keep up the good work

[mshcherbatskaya]

Well to start with, it blew my mind. This is the best piece of fiction I've read in CEC for quite a while now, because it appears to be only one that is sincere. Grammar and pacing is excellent for the most part, characters are deep, dialogue reasonable: one of the very few fics I really enjoyed reading. It's nice to see a fic with refined content and editing once in a while.

 

I was a little disappointed when I saw that it was a collaborative RP fic, because I quite honestly thought we had an expert writer in our midst. Not that it's bad, but I had developed higher expectations. Bottomline: this is one hell of a fic, and I look forward to more! Welcome to the forums, goddamnit!

 

Thanks, though I'm tempted to say you get multiple expert writers! When I planned it out, I never intended for it to be free-form like a traditional RP and there are no rounds. Everyone gets a role, but their actions are essentially scripted to fit my plot including the order of the posts, so it's in that very gray area between RP and Fic.

 

 

The installments may be a little too big. I managed to read through because I liked the writing and content, but people like Mr_BFA get scared by big blocks of text.

 

Would this be a bad time to mention that we are aiming for novel length and have got about 65,000 words at this point? It's settled out to a proper three-act structure, and we are girding our loins for the climax/resolution of the story.

 

Also, you may be interested in Dantooine Theatre Company, our roleplaying forum which could use some more stuff now. It used to be a lot more active before...

 

Cool, we already have plans for the sequel. We might very well run it over here. Most of us are in other RPs on The Escapist, but this one is Our Story, not just an RP.

 

Anyways, keep it up you people.

 

No one has managed to stop us so far! Thanks!

[mshcherbatskaya]

An Introduction:

 

Ythros... No last name... never a last name... or did he forget it? He can't remember. He is human, and from his features seems to be of one of the core worlds, except for the scars. The scars come from a lot of worlds. They tattoo his body completely, from his toes to his scalp, no hair grows through the scar tissue that blankets his thin frame, he is a patchwork man, a living monument to pain.

 

Perhaps the most paradoxical Jedi in existence, he resides fully in the dark side, only fighting with the Jedi through a hate for the Sith so deep it overcomes even his own natural affinity with them.

 

Records show a boy named Ythros was accepted into the order 23 years ago, only to go missing five years into his training. Abducted at 9 by the Sith, his legacy of agony began young. A prisoner for four years he was tortured each day, his link with the Force subdued with drugs and the presence of Sith Lords. He is known to have been one of the first victims of a young Darth Athrix in the time he spent in apprenticeship.

 

His world was pain. And it still is: although he escaped Athrix's torture chambers, the Dark Lord tortures him still, and in times of distress, anger, or sadness, when Ythros cannot inflict it on others, he seeks comfort in inflicting pain upon himself.

 

When a Jedi assault freed the prisoners of that center, he still had his sanity but his link with the Force was stunted and twisted. He ran from even his saviors and fled off-world in the engine workings of a transport, the extreme heat and spinning gears of the mechanism nothing compared to the endurance needed to resist submitting to the dark side under the Sith.

 

He was captured by Trandoshans the day that transport landed. From place to place he was transported, always on the cusp of freedom. When he arrived on the steps of the Jedi Temple seven years ago he was already completely covered in scars, and after a plea to the Council, was accepted back into the order under probation.

 

He has hunted Sith ever since for his twisted Force connection, using it as his greatest weapon.

 

Because almost every scar of Ythros' body he put there himself, with the single power he possesses, the one he used to finally escape and rejoin the Jedi, the power born of the circumstances he was 'blessed' with.

 

If Ythros has an injury, he can give it to you. If you cut him you too will bleed, and if you don't, he will cut himself. On two occasions he has disemboweled himself to kill rooms of Sith troops. He carries only a pair of 6-inch knives, serrated on one side, as his weapons. And he can use them on others just as well as on himself. He is a living avatar of agony, his limited powers useless for anything except his perverted gift, and even then he cannot use that indefinitely, because he has only so much blood and even he can take only so much pain.

 

Ythros had heard a Sith had surrendered herself in the temple.

 

Technically, he shouldn't have. When the masters received the woman, they had asked the service personnel to request Ythros' presence for a discussion over the repeated state of his bedding. Ythros, after a lengthy explanation of why he felt the need to leave bloodstains on his mattresses, was making his way back when he almost ran into an excited youth who had witnessed the Sith in transit. After a brief conversation with the somewhat careless Jedi, Ythros made his way to the detention cells.

 

The Jedi on watch at the detention block saw him coming and sent a comm for one of the senior Jedi. The 'Scarecrow' had a temper at the best of times, and after an argument over laundry and hearing of a Sith within throttling distance, he had an even more impressive scowl than usual. Not that anyone would notice, the scars made any expression on that face into a macabre grin or twisted frown... depending on the angle a person was looking from.

 

"Ythros, I see you heard about the prisoner--" he began, but was cut off with a look before Ythros spoke.

 

"Enough Jollen, move aside now," he said slowly.

 

"I can't Ythros, we don't murder prisoners."

 

Ythros tilted his head. "Murder? I would never kill a prisoner Sith, Jollen, not while I have something as harmless as a knife-point."

 

The look from the would-be-jailor indicated this was not a suitable response.

 

"Jollen, I wouldn't kill a prisoner, but I might just knock you out to see her," he said with an amiability at odds with the words spoken.

 

"Ythros, don’t, it's no--"

 

"Bugger. Hand slipped," Ythros said, releasing his neck where he had grabbed his own nerve cluster. He was immune to the pain, Jollen was not and he passed out.

 

Ythros stumbled inside, even such a minor effort exerted his ability. He was still recovering from his most recent hunt, so he gathered himself before walking to the cell that contained the odd woman, a paradox in Ythros' mind, both a Sith and a willing prisoner. To Ythros the idea was like keeping a python as a scarf.

 

"So, You're what's causing such a fuss hereabouts," he said, scanning over the creature.

 

She regarded him with perfect calm.

 

"I do wonder why you're here. In my experience Sith, don't often wander into temples, but then again in my experience Sith were never very intelligent."

 

Her smile was gracious, her voice coolly amused. "That has been my experience as well. It's one of the reasons I left."

 

"I also wonder if you realize that yo-" He began again, but was cut off.

 

"Where did you get that one?" The Sith asked and pointed to his face.

 

Ythros stood still "Which what?"

 

"You have a particular scar on your jaw line. It's very deep, but also very delicate," she inquired intently.

 

Ythros felt the wound. "Laser edged scalpel. I got into a fight with a surgeon who wanted to stick a tracking transmitter into my heart, where I couldn't pull it out like the last one. In my pelvic cavity,” he said with almost a hint of pride.

 

"And the surgeon?" she continued.

 

"He stabbed me in the arm, and then bled to death of the wound," Ythros replied, frustrated at losing control of the exchange.

 

For once the woman seemed interested, her eyes opened just a fraction wider and she leaned just a millimeter forward. She hid it well, and Ythros missed it completely, but there was something almost like wonder in her voice when she replied.

"How extraordinary you are."

 

...

 

Nahila was looking out the window at the pale yellow sunshine, wishing she were walking around outside rather than sitting behind her desk, when Ketan knocked politely on the partially open door.

 

"Ketan! Thank you for coming. Please, have a seat." She gestured towards a chair and Ketan sat down with a grateful grunt, stretching his long legs out in front of him.

 

"Long day?" Nahila's legs were much shorter, but she could sympathize.

 

"Yes," said Ketan with a sigh, "it seems as if the hours are growing."

 

She sighed in agreement. "Yes it does, and I'm afraid I'm about to make your day a bit longer. You have heard about our new guest?"

 

"Yes. Quite odd." His face and voice were unreadable. He could have been talking about unusual weather.

 

"I don't know what to make of her." The Sith woman, oh, she was a nightmare already, and she hadn't even done anything yet.

 

"From the file I read, it doesn't seem to piece together well." Trust Ketan to stick to facts in the midst of uncertainty.

 

"I want to believe that she truly wishes to turn to the light..."

 

"As do I..." Ketan agreed.

 

"I am filled with doubts," she shook her head and threw up her hands. "But how is that any different than before she arrived, right? This war..." She sighed again. She sighed a lot these days. “Everything we do is wrong. Everything we don't do is wrong...”

 

"I have thought long and hard about my previous actions. I don't wish to stand around on this. If she has a chance, I am willing to try." His uncertainty, his self-doubt over his actions, or rather, inaction, never really left him. Nor did his determination to do the right thing, when he thought he knew what it was.

 

"Good, because that is what I want you to do. Try and find out why she is here. Try to turn her to the Light, even if that was not her purpose."

 

"I will do my best." He always did his best, which is why she relied on him. "I can only hope the Force will help me find the right path to my goal." So orthodox, though. A little inflexible perhaps. Still, better rigid than soft with this one. She was slippery. Nahila could feel it.

 

"We have lost so many Jedi to the Sith, perhaps the Force has decided to even the balance just a little. Your dedication to the Light is unquestioned and you have always been careful and deliberate in your actions--we need these with her."

 

"I know my dedication to the Light is unquestioned, but what about my actions. I know the others hold their tongues. I don't need the force to see what they think." Poor Ketan, still so defensive after all this time.

 

She soothed him as best she could. "None of our actions go unquestioned anymore There is not a Jedi left who goes undoubted, unquestioned, especially by themselves."

 

That seemed to reassure him. "Yes. It feels as we are all changing our outlook, for the better or worse. Enough about that, I know my duties now."

 

She hesitated a moment. "Are you at peace with your decisions in the War?"

 

"Peace is relative." In other words, no.

 

"Is it?"

 

"Yes, I have struggled with what I did or didn't do. I have come to the conclusion that I must learn from my actions, as that is all I can do. If I must face what happened every day as my punishment or gift, so be it. I will make a point not to let it effect my connection with the Force."

 

Nahila gave him an understanding smile. "I suppose it is better to learn from your actions than learn from your mistakes."

 

"Yes. I take what little comfort I can in that." He returned her smile just a little.

 

Her tone became serious. "At any rate, I want you to watch over this Erzabet. Be her mentor. Be her guardian. Be her prison guard." She leaned forward, urgency in her voice. "Guard her, protect her. And guard and protect us."

 

Ketan shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Speaking of such, it was mentioned that I will have another with me on this duty. May I ask who it is?" Changing the subject without appearing to change the subject. He was good at that.

 

"There is a soldier of the Republic who will assist you in watching over her."

 

"A soldier?" Ketan frowned. "What business does he have in this?"

 

"He will focus on her safety and yours, while you guide her."

 

That made him a bit more touchy than she had expected. "You and I both know I am well capable of protecting myself, as I expect she can."

 

"He is not a Jedi, and so he has little lure to a Sith," she started to explain.

 

Ketan looked a little offended and slightly stunned. "What? He might not be a immediate target but he will fall to even the slightest trick."

 

She had not expected him to be so difficult about this. "He has fought the Sith before, and I do not think she will show much interest in him. We have noticed that she pays very little attention to those who are not Jedi, who show no strength in the Force."

 

That seemed to satisfy his pride. "Very well. I will trust your judgement."

 

Nahila continued, "Like many Sith, she probably disregards anything she does not perceive as a threat."

 

"Maybe, but this is no normal Sith," Ketan said. "We cannot use the norm."

 

"No, she is not like any Sith I have known," she agreed. "She has no strength, she has no combat training, and she lacks the passion that fires most Sith."

 

"Couldn't she conceal these things with a powerful mind?”

 

"Perhaps," Nahila agreed, "which is why you must be on your guard. I know you meditate daily on the Light, I know this guides you and gives you strength, and you have an empathy for others that gives you insight into their actions."

 

"I try." He looked out the window, perhaps like her, wishing he were out walking in the sunlight, rather than talking over dark matters in an office. "Why is it that us Masters never make it known to the padawans how hard the path of Light is?"

 

Nahila gave him a rueful look. "We try, but they don't believe us, do they?"

 

"Never,” said Ketan with a wistful smile.

 

"Everything is easy when one is young, easy or impossible." She chuckled at the memory of her own triumphs and despairs, and of those of all the younglings who had come to her in this office, in confidence or tears. "So you have no objections then to this soldier?"

 

"No. I will take this and do the best I can." His tone was cooperative, if not exactly gracious.

 

Nahila shrugged. "I can't ask for more than that." She leaned over and spoke into the comm. "Corev, would you join us in my office please?"

 

Corev stepped through the door a bit quickly. Clearly, he'd been waiting very nearby. "Yes Master Jedi, you have need of me?"

 

Ketan did not see pleased about this at all. "I did not know this would be a group discussion." It was unlike him to be so irritable. Or rude.

 

"It is only an introduction." She shot him a look. "Corev, this is Ketan. He will be the guide and guardian to Erzabet in her return to the Light."

 

Corev extended his hand in greeting. "It is a pleasure to meet you Master Ketan. It will be an honor to work with you."

 

At least Ketan had the sense to recognize when he was being unreasonable. "Apologies." He shook the other man's hand. "It will be an honor to work with you as well. However, I have not heard much about you. Information seems to be scarce these days." It was Ketan's turn to shoot her a look. Oh, Force. If the Jedi were this troublesome today, what was the Senator going to be like? She didn't even want to think about it."

 

"I am an officer for the Republic," Corev explained. "I am on this case to act as their liaison."

 

Nahila added, "They are concerned, as we all are, that this may be some sort of trick."

 

"I see. I am sorry about the questions, I just am wary of traveling with strangers." Ketan might be more polite now, but he was clearly no less put out. Time to re-phrase things in a different light, so that he didn't feel he was being undermined somehow.

 

"Corev will aid you in keeping the Senate and military out of your way. They will pester him rather than you. Or me." Let her work the sympathy angle then. Poor her, always chased this way and that by every bureaucrat in the Republic.

 

That seemed to work. Ketan finally relaxed enough to let out a little chuckle. "Yes, he might be of great use."

 

Corev's face was as unreadable as his Force presence. "It is no trouble at all Master Jedi. If you don't mind I would like to know a little about you. So I know who I am working with of course." Ketan seemed to respond to his professional tone, though.

 

"Certainly, I am Ketan Forar, Jedi Master. I have lived in this very temple since the age of 3 and have trained since. As for my connections to the Force and lightsaber, they are private, if you don't mind."

 

Or not. "Ketan!" she snapped, appalled at his lack of manners. "I do not think Corev would be so impertinent." Unlike Ketan himself.

 

"What?" he said, as though he hadn't been just as rude as he'd presumed Corev to be.

 

Corev, however, seemed more amused than offended. "Master Nahila, it is fine, I have no interest in those subjects." Which was absolutely the truth, more than Ketan would ever guess.

 

"I did not mean any offense." Ketan stared at the tips of his boots like a youngling who'd been caught at something.

 

Nahila couldn't resist a quick wink at Corev. "He understands the Jedi and their ways better than most."

 

"As I said, I meant no offense."

 

"The only thing I care about is whether or not he is able to do what is required." So Corev could play Ketan's little game, too.

 

It worked. Ketan was genuinely apologetic. "Recent events have had me on edge. Please don't take anything I say as an attack on you."

 

Corev took his little victory in stride. "Not at all. You are cautious which is good."

 

"As you are calm-tempered." Ketan added.

 

"Only because I have no reason not to be."

 

Nahila was relieved. At least the territorial posturing was done. "I assure each of you that I would not have assigned either of you if I had any doubts as to your abilities."

 

"I meant no offense of course, Master Nahila," it was Corev's turn to apologize. "I only wanted to be sure."

 

Ketan took on an official tone. "Well, it seems we now have a charge to attend to. Is that all Nahila?"

 

Nahila decided to drive the point home. "As long as you can work together, I have nothing more to say, if you cannot work together I shall have a great deal more to say, but that will be later," and she gave them both a little wink to take the sting off her rebuke.

 

Ketan smiled and relaxed. Finally. "Very well. A pleasure Nahila."

 

Her work here was done. Her work elsewhere, not so much. "So, if you don't mind, Corev will keep the Republic out of your way. I am not so lucky, so I am off to speak to yet another senator."

 

"The life of a Jedi, always exciting," said Ketan with a sympathetic chuckle.

 

Nahila sighed. “I begin to regret this woman already. She generates far too much curiosity."

 

"Of course Master Nahila, I will leave you now. Master Ketan, I assume I am to follow you to our charge?" Corev was doing his officer act, and it was working.

 

"I pass her into your capable hands. The senator I keep for myself. Lucky me." She rolled her eyes for emphasis.

 

Ketan responded with his own brisk Jedi act. "Yes, lets see what we have to deal with."

 

"After you, Master Jedi," said Corev, opening and holding the door for the other two. Oh, he was good. Definitely the right man for the job. As she passed him, he threw her a quick wink. Ah, old friend, it is so nice to have you back.

 

...

 

Once again, Cain was brooding at his desk. The Jedi were supposed to uphold justice, and peace - yet there was none of either to be seen here. That woman, Sith or not, had sought sanctuary and instead a neural disruptor had been clamped around her neck, and Cain was fairly sure that she had been left in solitary confinement. Half-sedated by a fancy collar and left in a cell; a pretty poor excuse for sanctuary. Was that what she had really wanted, though? It seemed like undeniable truth when she herself said it, but now that she was gone, Cain had his doubts.

 

Admittedly small doubts, but ones that were certainly persistent. Cain's initial suspicion was that the Sith had some form of assault planned, but there would be no logic to this - she was not only weaker in the Force than Cain himself, but she came utterly alone, and she must have expected the Jedi to be untrustworthy and dogmatic in their approach when offering the 'redemption' she claimed to be seeking. So, unless she was carrying several thermal detonators on her person, then there was little chance of her devastating the Temple. She even gave up her weapon and revealed her allegiance upon entry, which was hardly a sound tactical move if she was planning an assault.

 

Thus, Cain could not see any validity to his small suspicions, and therefore believed that there were none to be had. There was a woman being kept prisoner for unjustifiable reasons, and it was his duty to demand this situation be resolved...with permission, of course. Cain was hasty but not idiotic, he was not about to gallantly storm the cells and break this Sith out, for that way ended in being stabbed...or thrown in solitary confinement himself. No, Cain was going to very politely request her release, and that required visiting Master Nahila.

 

Cain did not dislike Nahila on a personal level, but there was certainly a strong amount of resentment that he directed towards her. She represented many of the reasons that Cain worked a desk instead of cutting through swaths of enemies on unknown battlefields. Therefore it was not Nahila that Cain felt contempt towards but rather what she seemed to stand for so rigidly, and this was only reinforced by her treatment of the female Sith he had come to admire.

 

A few minutes later Cain found himself brooding at someone else's desk, the main counter in the entrance to the Jedi Temple.

 

"What? No, no I don't have an appointment - why do I even need one? She's a Jedi Master, not a politician, can you please inform Master Nahila that I need to see her?"

 

A look crossed the young Jedi's face that suggested he was about to dictate a line he must say at least a dozen times a day. "I will but without an appointment you aren't likely to get in to see her, she is currently conferring with a Senator."

 

"So I have to wait for her to recover from a senator-induced coma as well? Could you possibly make me an appointment? For tomorrow?"

 

"Hmm...Yes, I do believe there's a five minute gap tomorrow morning, is that acceptable?"

 

"No, acceptable would have been me seeing her within the next hour, but tomorrow morning is at least an outcome that doesn't involve me drawing my lightsaber. I'll be back tomorrow morning."

 

-------------------------------

 

The Escapist QoH Crew:

 

CHAPTER TWO

 

mshcherbatskaya (Erzabet and Nahila) – story creator and executive director in charge of making people re-write their stuff because she's the boss and she can

 

Tsurugi (Corev) – assistant director in charge of making us realize that this thing is getting really long and also kind of awesome

 

Qayin (Cain) – assistant director in charge of Emo

 

Flanked (Ketan) – assistant director in charge of flaking out on his writing responsibilities

 

Ultrajoe (Ythros) – assistant director in charge of Epic

 

--

 

Regarding Ythros:

 

Ythros is a character Ultrajoe created for a previous story, and since he was an existing character, we already knew his origin story and his abilities and just carried on with him. You, on the other hand, don't have that advantage, so we have the intro up front.

[mshcherbatskaya]

OK, see this is what happens when you encourage me. I will be reading and giving feedback on the boards as well, like any good citizen of fandom. I'm just getting some stuff nailed down right now.

[machievelli]

read

[Rev7]

That was amazing! I loved how you described Ythros's past and why he self-inflicts himself. Amazing description, and I think that it flowed nicely. Great job, and I definately look forward to more!

[The_Catto]

but people like Mr_BFA get scared by big blocks of text

 

Uncalled for, lol.

I just read it. Pretty good so far ... I like the characters Ketan and Corev and I wouldn't mind seeing in how it will end up.

Looking forward to next installment.

 

Oh and Sabre.... Have you seen how much I can write and post? Sometimes I can be annoying and going overboard in how much I write in chapters.

[mshcherbatskaya]

THE OLD REPUBLIC: QUEEN OF HEARTS - Chapter 3

 

 

Once again, Cain was brooding at his desk. The Jedi were supposed to uphold justice and peace, yet there was none of either to be seen here. That woman, Sith or not, had sought sanctuary and instead, a neural disruptor had been clamped around her neck, and Cain was fairly sure that she had been left in solitary confinement. Half-sedated by a fancy collar and left in a cell; a pretty poor excuse for sanctuary. Was that what she had really wanted, though? It seemed like undeniable truth when she herself said it, but now that she was gone, Cain had his doubts.

 

Admittedly small doubts, but ones that were certainly persistent. Cain's initial suspicion was that the Sith had some form of assault planned, but there would be no logic to this - she was not only weaker in the Force than any Jedi he had known, but she came utterly alone, and she must have expected the Jedi to be untrustworthy and dogmatic in their approach when offering the 'redemption' she claimed to be seeking. So, unless she was carrying several thermal detonators on her person, then there was little chance of her devastating the Temple. She even gave up her weapon and revealed her allegiance upon entry, which was hardly a sound tactical move if she was planning an assault.

 

Thus, Cain could not see any validity to his small suspicions, and therefore believed that there were none to be had. There was a woman being kept prisoner for unjustifiable reasons, and it was his duty to demand this situation be resolved...with permission, of course. Cain was hasty but not idiotic, he was not about to gallantly storm the cells and break this Sith out, for that way ended in being stabbed or thrown in solitary confinement himself. No, Cain was going to very politely request her release, and that required a visit to Master Nahila.

 

Cain did not dislike Nahila on a personal level, but there was certainly a strong amount of resentment that he directed towards her. She represented many of the reasons that Cain worked a desk instead of cutting through swaths of enemies on unknown battlefields. Therefore it was not Nahila that Cain felt contempt towards but rather what she seemed to stand for so rigidly, and this was only reinforced by her treatment of the female Sith he had come to admire.

 

A few minutes later Cain found himself brooding at someone else's desk, the main counter in the entrance to the administrative wing of the temple.

 

"What? No, no I don't have an appointment - why do I even need one? She's a Jedi Master, not a politician, can you please inform Master Nahila that I need to see her?"

 

A look crossed the young Jedi's face that suggested he was about to recite a line he must say at least a dozen times a day. "I will but without an appointment you aren't likely to get in to see her, she is currently conferring with a Senator."

 

"So I have to wait for her to recover from a senator-induced coma as well? Could you possibly make me an appointment? For tomorrow?"

 

"Hmm...Yes, I do believe there's a five minute gap tomorrow morning, is that acceptable?"

 

"No, acceptable would have been me seeing her within the next hour, but tomorrow morning is at least an outcome that doesn't involve me drawing my lightsaber. I'll be back tomorrow morning."

 

...

 

The walk down to the holding cells was a silent one, which was fine with Ketan. The lightsaber felt heavy in his robes, a reminder of the past. Beside him, Corev had a slight smile on his face. What about, he didn't really know. He could see no reason to smile, he never had good news in this place and he wasn't going to bet it would change. After a brief word to the Jedi guard, they passed through the doorway into the chill confines of the high security section.

 

The halls were spotless but still held an eerie weight to them, as if the air stood still, waiting for events to unfold. The pair walked towards the cell area and had another short conversation with the Jedi guard. He felt a bit off. Something was different. He reached out through the Force but found nothing.

 

He continued down to his charge's holding cell. The bright field made a shimmering haze over the woman but that did little to change her beauty. He almost allowed himself to wander in that thought for a second. Almost. No words said and this was already more than he needed now.

 

"Sith. You have stated that you wish to return to the Light side of the Force. What can you say to make me believe that your word is truth?"

 

"Nothing." A simple statement.

 

He blinked. "You must have thought through your actions before coming here. Don't you have any idea how to prove this to us?"

 

"No, I don't. Do you?" Again, clear, direct words that gave him nothing. This was almost getting annoying.

 

"You honestly thought it would be a good idea to walk into the temple with no proof of your motives?" He couldn't quite keep the edge out of his voice.

 

"What proof could I bring?" was her calm retort.

 

"True." He had nothing with which to counter her answers. He paused for a moment. "You could inform us on how you achieved your position?"

 

"How I achieved my position? My biography?" she asked.

 

Corev quietly stepped into the conversation "Not an entire biography, merely how you inspired such devotion in your followers."

 

The Sith laughed softly. "Merely? And what if I don't know?" She had to be lying or at least toying with them. They were getting nowhere.

 

"That would be quite a thing not to know." Corev's voice was as relaxed and neutral as hers.

 

She looked at him with interest. "I see you are a soldier, and officer, yes? Tell me, do you know why it is your soldiers follow you?"

 

"My soldiers follow me because they are told to. For the ones who follow me because it is their choice, probably because they feel I deserve their loyalty."

 

"Ah, well, I suppose the ones that follow me do so because they feel I deserve their loyalty." She was messing with them.

 

"That is an awful lot of Sith following you because they think you deserve their loyalty. What did you do to inspire their loyalty? I fight well and give commands, what have you done?"

 

"I command well and give them fights,” the Sith replied.

 

Corev studied her for a moment, one eyebrow raised. “According to the records you haven't fought many battles. It takes more then just a couple for that to happen." He'd caught her in...something. Not a lie, really. And error perhaps? A chip in the mirror that was her conversation.

 

She was leading them in circles, Ketan was sure of it. He would have to be a bit more direct. "What is it that makes you want to go to the Light? You have followers and wealth it seems. What to you seek to achieve?" Ketan was looking for any lead at this point, some return on the value of the time he was wasting.

 

"I find that I do not agree with the Sith philosophy. It is ultimately self-defeating. They cannot work together and so, though they may conquer the galaxy, they will never rule it." Well, he'd gotten three whole sentences out of her that time.

 

"Wouldn't the logical conclusion be to create your own philosophy?" Hopefully, this would provoke some further useful response.

 

"I never had a philosophy to begin with." The woman sidestepped his question again. This was so frustrating. How could she be truthful in her desire to turn to the Light side when she deflected every reasonable question?

 

An irritatite edge, a pleading note crept into his voice. "Help me help you. Give me something to work with longer than these five-word statements. What made you join the Sith?"

 

She gave him a sad smile. "Because the Sith have shown me the only kindness I have ever known.”

 

The statement startled him with the realization that this, at least, was the truth. What could one say after hearing something like that?

 

Ketan walked out back into the lobby leaving Corev to his own volition. He needed a plan to deal with this situation. He sat down in one of the chairs. They were really here for show. No one ever actually waited on their type of prisoners. He needed to get her out of her element, surprise her so he could get something to work with, but they did not know her powers or reasons. But anything he did would have some risk, big or small. He allowed himself to fall back into the past that always waited at the back of his mind. Learn from it, as he said he had. He had an idea, a risky one, but as he said, there was always some chance. He grew adamant in his idea.

 

He was going to have a new Padawan, and that new Padawan would be her, whether she liked it or not.

 

...

 

Corev sat against the wall with his eyes closed. He did that a lot, meditating when he was alone to center himself. This time he needed it.

 

After leaving Nahila's office, Ketan and Corev had walked down to see the Sith who was now in their care. They spoke little during the walk down and Corev was fine with that. He still had a slight smile on his face as he followed behind Ketan. Nahila at her best, the way she maneuvered every conversation towards her own purposes – he couldn't help but admire her skill and enjoy her performance.

 

They arrived at the section of the temple where the woman was held, and checked in with the guard, and found her in a cell behind the glowing barrier. She had changed somehow. She was still beautiful but less compelling than she had been when he first saw her. She no longer felt weird to him, her odd vibration in the Force had faded. He found the source of that when he looked at her neck. The collar. Nahila was taking no chances. Very wise.

 

For most of the ensuing conversation, Corev leaned against a wall across from her cell, listening to the Jedi Master and the Sith have their "conversation". Her answer to Ketan's first question surprised them both. She was calm and collected, more like a Jedi then a Sith, but the way in which she answered her questions could be Sith or a Jedi, depending on her intentions.

 

Ketan had kept his cool and kept asking questions, trying to get something out of her but she managed to avoid giving away her intentions. What shocked Corev the most was that she insisted that she didn't know why she had so many followers or why they were so loyal to her. She said it was just like soldiers following him in the Republic, but he knew that wasn't true. Having fought no battles against other Sith or even Jedi, it wasn't possible for her to gain the loyalty of so many people in that fashion, even ordinary people, and the Sith were not known for their loyalty. She was weak in the Force, passive in manner, even slow and deliberate in her movements. It was hard to imagine the Sith tolerating her, much less following her.

 

Then she had added one more mystery. "The Sith have shown me the only kindness I have ever known." What could have possibly happened to her to make that true, Corev couldn't imagine, but he didn't doubt the truth of what she said. He didn't doubt that at all.

 

...

 

"You have five minutes."

 

"Nahila, now...please. " Cain asked, as nicely as he could, of the Jedi/Receptionist/Fool. He had slowly watched the hours pass until the morning, and the young Jedi working the front desk seemed to somehow become more anally retentive each time Cain spoke to him.

 

"Yes, she is expecting you, but as I said, you have five minutes...Master Nahila is exceptionally busy as her position demands, and you must not exceed these allocated minutes."

 

"You know, I'm sure you wouldn't be working this desk if you weren't so...absolutely and utterly damn annoying!" Cain finished, before striding off, with sufficient drama, towards Nahila's office.

 

Cain took being expected to mean already invited, and felt no need to knock or request entry. On a roll when it came to the melodrama, Cain entered Nahila's office with poorly concealed self-satisfaction, and spoke more to the room he was invading rather than the person he had yet to spot.

 

"Master, I request that the female prisoner be released...Master Nahila?"

 

The room appeared to be empty, meaning that Cain's entrance was not only spoilt but wasted, which was then coupled with embarrassment as Nahila's voice traveled towards the back of his head - Cain had not only foregone formality but faced the wrong direction as he did so.

 

"It is common courtesy to knock before you enter, Jedi Cain."

 

Cain's cheeks reddened ever so slightly as he turned to Master Nahila, who was just closing the refresher door behind her. He decided to ingore his evident mistake (or rather, mistakes) and repeated himself.

 

"Master Nahila, I would liked to request that Erzabet be released."

 

Nahila raised an eyebrow, whether in intrigue or amusement Cain could not tell, before she replied,

 

"And why would you like to have her released?"

 

Clearing his throat, Cain began, "A woman seeking sanctuary entered those doors. Sith or not, she identified herself, knowing the prejudice she would face, and gave up her only weapon without hesitation."

 

He concentrated for a moment. If he could not eloquently make this point, then he was wasting his time. "She requests the chance for redemption, and instead a neural disruptor is clamped around her neck, and she is left in a cell - a deceptively comfortable cell, but still a prison. She has no weapons, no apparent means of communication with any Sith force waiting to strike, and the neural disruptor, even on a low setting, will be inhibiting any use of the Force she could muster. There is no possible way she could be planning an assault. She is here of her own free will, why steal this privilege she entered with?"

 

"Privilege? I'm not sure what you are getting at there, but the best-laid trap is the one that appears to carry no risk. Perhaps she is what you say. But perhaps she is a very, very clever trap. The fact that she has amassed such a following despite her apparent weakness gives us ample reason to believe that she is not merely what she seems. And her followers in the Sith are still waiting for her to return to them. If they believe she's coming back, I'm inclined to agree with them."

 

A notable amount of contempt began to enter Cain's voice as he replied, "I am referring, Master, to the privilege of free choice - her free choice to enter here, her choice to surrender, her choice to seek redemption. What choice does she have now? The only thing she didn't give up at the door was taken from her with that neural disruptor - she came in here of her own volition, and now that free will has been removed. What possible trap could she be? Unless the Republic has noticed a Sith fleet orbiting the planet, then I fail to see the threat she poses. Following or not, she chose to come here, and if she were to flee back to the Sith, then I would not blame her, with the treatment she has received from those that represent the 'Light' side of the Force. This is not precautionary, Master Nahila, it is cruelty."

 

Cain involuntarily winced as Nahila sighed in a way that seemed both irritated yet kind, although to Cain it showed how little an effect his words were having. "Again, it is in the nature of a trap to appear as something other than a trap. Surely, if she comes to us with as much goodwill as you believe, she will sympathize with our need for a bit of caution. And really, Cain, how is it that this woman has so captured your...imagination? After such a brief encounter? How did you come to such an understanding of her feelings and motives in such as short time? Finally, consider this: her confinement is as much for her safety as it is for ours."

 

This was growing futile. Cain was getting ready to give up, and, for the sake of the courtesy he failed to show on the way in, Cain responded only to avoid being rude.

 

"What trap a weaponless, powerless, debilitated woman could utilize is beyond me, and I doubt she really sympathizes with any kind of person that clamps neural disruptors around the necks of harmless individuals. I do not claim to know her feelings - for all I know she is in fact plotting to bring down this temple - but if she is she must be incredibly stupid, as how she plans an assault on a Jedi Temple with no weapons, no fleet, and no power is beyond me. Unless you know something I do not, then there is no way you can believe her to be capable of destroying this place, either. She is confined not because of any threat, because she is no threat to this Temple unless she has 20 thermal detonators stashed somewhere, or upon entry you failed to have her searched for any means of communication with the Sith. The truth is you would rather she suffer the neural disruptor than any Master be inconvenienced with redeeming something as 'disgusting' as a Sith."

 

Cain certainly expected, may have even hoped that Nahila would snap at him, but if anything, her tone became even more gentle and understanding. Condescendingly so.

 

"As you said, for all you know, she is plotting to bring down the temple, and a great deal more besides. If she is, rather than being very stupid, she may in fact be exceedingly smart, and very skilled. It is possible, you know, to conceal one's Force sensitivity, and she may have come armed with something much more powerful than detonators. She may have come armed with ideas. The Jedi are fractured. We are at war with each other. Someone skillful in spreading dissent could be much more dangerous to us now than any orbiting fleet. And the truth is, a Master has been 'inconvenienced' with redeeming her. His name is Master Ketan, and if you are so concerned with her acceptance and well-being, I suggest you talk to him."

 

"Fine, from one Master to another, then. I'm tired of waiting, however. By the time I get to someone who will listen to me, she'll have conveniently 'disappeared'."

 

"Your five minutes are up, Jedi."

 

"...I hate this place."

 

-----------------------------------------------------

 

The Escapist QoH Crew:

 

CHAPTER THREE

 

mshcherbatskaya (Erzabet and Nahila) – story creator and executive director in charge of making people re-write their stuff because she's the boss and she can

 

Tsurugi (Corev) – assistant director in charge of making us realize that this thing is getting really long and also kind of awesome

 

Qayin (Cain) – assistant director in charge of Emo

 

Flanked (Ketan) – assistant director in charge of flaking out on his writing responsibilities

[Rev7]

Nice update. I like where this is going! Keep it up guys!

[mshcherbatskaya]

Should I be posting the chapters in the thread or separately? Is there an established way to do this?

[Endorenna]

I and many others post all our chapters in the same thread. Tysyacha posts her chapters seperately. It's far easier to find all parts of a story if it's in one thread.

 

BTW, great story! Sorry I can't be more specific. :0

[Rev7]

I think that it would be a lot easier to just keep all of the posts in one single thread. That is totally up to you though...

[Sabretooth]

Uncalled for, lol.

Oh and Sabre.... Have you seen how much I can write and post? Sometimes I can be annoying and going overboard in how much I write in chapters.

You also appear to be showing signs of amnesia.

and large blocks of writing scare the bejebus out of me ]

[The_Catto]

...... My bad .... A knock to the head as rendered me, indeed a little bit on the amnesiac side....

 

I'm getting better but Take a look at the chapters I'm posting for the Non SW fic I'm doing atm and that will be prook

 

 

Anyways ... Nice chapter once again, mshcherbatskaya. (Is that a real name or just a radom letters put together? Sorry, if it is real and I'm being an ignorant idiot. )

 

I feel sympathy for Erzabet but at the same time also see the view of the Jedi and what they're doing to her.

Can't wait for the next installment!

[mshcherbatskaya]

Nahila watched Cain storm out of the room. Oh, the pity! So misunderstood! So unappreciated! So enamoured with his own dramatic flair she wanted to pour a glass of water over his head. He was probably stomping back to his room and throwing himself down on his bed right now. She'd never minded the Jedi injunction against having a family, and she'd never had a padawan of her own, mainly because she didn't particularly like children, especially when they were almost 30 years old. She didn't know whether to blame Cain's old master for this or pity him.

 

Still, there was the question, why did he care about this Erzabet so much? He'd seen the woman all of, what, 5 minutes? Maybe 10? She was pretty enough, but really, a Jedi shouldn't allow such things to turn his head. Of course, a Jedi shouldn't go stomping out of people's offices in a raging sulk. Cain was bored, yes, and the woman had the charm of novelty, and she doubtless appealed to his sense of gallantry. He couldn't resist the opportunity to fight in defence of the helpless, as witnessed by his running off to the wars, but really, no one with the word "Darth" in their name was truly defenseless. And of course, Nahila had received nothing but trouble and pushback from Cain since that day she accepted him back. Great Force, but she'd had to battle the Council tooth and nail to get him that seat at the desk, and for what? "I hate this place..." Well, you aren't chained to that desk, you know, and it is right in front of the door. Of course, she couldn't do that. The boy was constantly hanging his toes over the edge of the Dark Side as it was.

 

She might have written it off to a very un-Jedi combination of rebellion and chivalry, but there was also Ythros to consider. All the sympathy she should could not feel for Cain, she could not help but feel for the mangled, suffering creature that had, at one time, been a simple human boy. She'd fought for him too. The Council had accused her of misguided pity but it wasn't that. Ythros was a potent weapon and an even more potent example. No apprentice, no padawan, no one ever left Ythros' presence with any romantic ideas about the allure of the Dark Side. He was a tattered rag of a creature, tied around the dead branch of his consuming hatred of the Sith. So it was no surprise that he'd made his way down to the holding cell where Erzabet was kept, mere minutes after her arrival.

 

Nahila watched the security holo again and again. Ythros clearly intended to torture the woman to death. Even with the collar, she could not have failed to sense that, and his appearance alone was enough to make most people recoil in shock. But she had received him with perfect calm and had, with the merest question, turned him aside. Her self-possession was remarkable. It was almost a pity that Ythros had left the captive Sith to go pursue his usual prey in the wild. She would have liked to observe them together a bit more. Instead, she was left to ponder the encounter. Had he left her because she was not a Sith and thus held no interest? Or because she had managed...something? Ythros was amazingly resistant to any sort of Mind Trick or Persuasion, so the second possibility was either unlikely or more than a little alarming.

 

She watched more of the security recordings, looking for something, anything, that would give her the key to this woman. There was nothing. Perhaps that was her only clue. Erzabet did nothing. She barely moved at all. There was a viewscreen in her room (cell?--that was no cell, it was nicer than Nahila's own quarters) that served as a window of sorts, and she sat and stared at it for hours. Once an hour, she would get up, walk back and forth in the room, do a set of exercises and return to her place watching the screen. The screen itself was not that interesting. It displayed the same city view one could see from one of the better guest rooms, pretty but not entrancing. Once a day, she would bathe, change her clothes, and tend her hair. She never attempted to speak to the guards, except to thank them when they brought her meals. At times, she appeared to meditate. But for the most part, she was as still as a statue.

 

Perhaps, like Ythros, she had developed a certain single-mindedness, a protective obsessiveness that had allowed her to withstand the brutality of her training with the Sith. She wasn't strong enough in the Force to have survived among them, Nahila knew that in her bones. Strength in the Force? No. Strength in combat? She doubted it. Which left only one other possibility.

 

Strength of will.

 

In truth, of the three, that was the one she feared the most.

 

...

 

Checking back in was always fun.

 

Gabrill, the rather petite Jedi who was on the door, was terrified of Ythros. The little woman was a fantastic judge of character, which made her opinions of Ythros all the more fun to exploit, because he had a scary character, and she judged this most correctly.

 

That said, there were few padawans or younger Jedi who didn't have a part of their mind frozen with an image of the Scarecrow on their first meeting.

 

The Temple had seen fit to employ him as an object lesson in 'Dark Side Studies,' as he jokingly called it. About twice a year he would randomly and abruptly be greeted with great comradeship by one of the senior Jedi who he barely knew or just plain hated. Always, there was some padawan behind the Master, trying not to stare.

 

When the conversation was over, Ythros would be left to imagine the wonderful little tale of how he ended up with more straight lines on him than a Balkiga board being told to the padawan around the corner. "Look", the lesson went, "on what we can fall and become."

 

He wouldn't have minded if he'd known the names of the Jedi who pretended to know him so they could shock some knowledge into the trainees. But even the Jedi were a little afraid of Ythros.

 

He was so close to having 'Darth' preceding his name, one of the more adventurous teens had scratched it into the name-plate on his door. That was a great day. The boy had turned around straight into Ythros and soiled himself.

 

But he understood. He was a curio like the woman in the cells was to him...

 

Why he had come back? He could not shake the thought of her from his head. Not a hate, nor any form of desire... she was simply a reoccurring thought during his brief hunting bout.

 

He managed to get Gabrill's eyes to bulge when he walked in. a further double-take was elicited by the fact that he was stark naked. He had come express from his shuttle and he had lost his only robe on his travels. Nothing like the sight of a 6-foot scarred, naked man to wake a person up, he reasoned. And he imagined this stagnant little Jedi day-spa could use some waking.

 

"Hello Gab, I’m just checking back in. I'd like to take a quick bath before I see anyone from the Council if you don't mind." He dropped a lightsaber onto the reception desk. its black hilt and skeletal design marking it as a Sith device. "I imagine there are proceeding for dealing with this kind of thing, Gab, i treasure my ignorance on them."

 

Leaving the stunned door-Jedi, he made his way back to his room, or tried too. Seeing an opportunity, a newly promoted Master saw fit to educate his padawan.

 

Well, at least for once the blasted child wasn't staring at his face. Nothing untoward though. It wasn't as if he had any genitalia left to look at

 

...

 

Nahila could have summoned him to her office like any other Jedi but Ythros wasn't any other Jedi, and besides, he tended to leave little blood drips around and she'd just gotten a new carpet. Not that he was generally irritated into self-injury by her, but getting past her assistant never failed to set him off. Helim was very good at his job, which meant that he was very, very good at stonewalling people who wanted to see her. Even when they were invited, Helim would stop them and insist on check-in and every single bit of protocol. She was deeply grateful to him for this. Those minutes created by his skilful delays were often the only minutes she had to herself from one end of the day to the other. She'd long ago given up on the concept of regular meals, but she still had to pee once in a while. The fact that Ythros would insist on walking right into her office and the fact Helim would not back down before the Scarecrow's horror-show glare frequently resulted in blood. Occasionally for both of them.

 

But instead, today she went to intercept him on his way to the detention block. He'd come back, caused a scene (which, to be honest, amused rather than shocked her) and then made his way down to stare at the Sith again. She was almost inclined to let him. They were very interesting together and she was sure the holo recordings from the security cameras would prove enlightening. Once in a while, though, it was good to remind him that he was still answerable for his actions in this place. Specifically, he was answerable to her.

 

As he rounded the corner to the guard station, clearly expecting to bully past the guards, he found her instead, seated on one of the guard's stools, right in front of the door.

 

"Hello, Ythros, I heard you were back. Made quite a stir. How in the name of the Force did you manage to lose all your clothes?" Her tone to him was affectionate, genuinely so, which always seemed to unnerve him just a little. She liked unnerving people, just as he did, and took a certain vicarious pleasure in the whispering ripples of shock he generated everywhere he went.

 

"What are you doing here?" His voice was as ragged as his face. She'd heard that prolonged screaming could scar the vocal chords. From what she understood of his past, she was amazed the damage hadn't rendered him mute.

 

"Funny, I was about to ask you that." She held his gaze and he blinked. Score one for her.

 

He scowled. She'd learned his face over the years and that was definitely a scowl. "I've come for the Sith."

 

"But she isn't a Sith, not any more."

 

"So she says."

 

"Yes," Nahila agreed, "so she does say, and we are strongly considering the possibility that she is telling the truth."

 

"Sith lie."

 

"True, which is why she is in the detention block. And while we are determining whether or not she is telling the truth, she is not a Sith, she is a prisoner." She stood to look directly into his eyes, "And the Jedi do not kill their prisoners."

 

"You can't stop me from seeing her."

 

"Nor do I intend to try. But I will ask you this. Why do you want to see her?"

 

He had no answer. She stood, eyes locked with his, until he spun on his heel and strode away. The sharp sounds of his boot heels striking the floor did not conceal the snap of his finger breaking. She winced at the sound.

 

The medical staff would be in her office complaining about him within the hour. She sat back down on the stool, leaned back against the wall, closed her eyes, and savored the quiet. This Erzabet brought trouble. Nahila didn't need to be gifted with Shatterpoint to see that.

 

...

 

If wills were solid objects, the bitch would be a bastion.

 

She treated him like some overblown bully who she could simply ignore! He was not overblown...

 

But she was right on one thing... he didn't know why he wanted to see the Sith. He couldn't kill her, and couldn't stand her. Perhaps that was the reason. She was something that did not fit into his worldview and for that reason was an insatiable enigma.

 

A Sith.

 

He remembered the hunt he had just been on, following a testosterone-fueled Sabre-Master through the under-halls of an ancient spire city. He had been a brute. Ythros lurked in the shadows and the terrified behemoth thought that if he charged his fears they would melt before his blade. Ythros was fear that fought back.

 

The pair had duelled for almost an hour, in second-long exchanges punctuated by bouts of stalking, before Ythros slid a knife under his guard and bled out his ribcage. Not a drop of his own blood spilled. Nahila would have been proud.

 

Ythros was making up for lost time.

 

Knives danced in expert patterns around his skin, weaving an intricate tapestry on his torso, gentle curves at odds with his other short scars and war-trophies. He had taken the design off the tattoos on the Sith he had killed in those dark halls. He had never scarred himself in any pattern before, but now the opportunity for something more imaginative had arisen.

 

He wondered if he should one day seek actual tattoos. The designs on that flesh had intrigued him. He found references to them in the Jedi library to which he did not have full access. He found a way in, however. They were not a Sith design, belonging to a tribe of canopy-dwelling humanoids. With all relation to the foe aside, he had seen fit to mark them on his flesh.

 

It was a meditation. A preparation. Sinking into the warm oblivion of ritual, he let out stress and pain, tension and rage.

 

It was a good place.

 

He finished and washed himself. Despite his progress in avoiding serious self-harm, his Force power had failed to return in any fashion but his eternal half-cursed Wound Affinity. But he was determined to be more than just a product of his circumstances, he was making progress on that note, too... until that Sith had shown up. And now he felt old rages rekindled, past wounds flared in pain again and he found all the careful meditation and relaxation he had accumulated slip away.

 

The Sith was unmaking him again, and he had to know why.

 

Tossing on an old robe, he made his way down to the cells, She did say she would not stop him... oh... but she had posted a guard again.

 

"Hello..." He sought for a name, anything. This time he had to try and be civil.

 

"Johanas." the man said, steely gazed.

 

"Right... How... Are... You?" Ythros said, fists clenching and unclenching. This was not his area of expertise.

 

"Fine,” said the unhelpful Johanas.

 

"..."

 

"..."

 

The two simply stood, Johanas silent by his personality, Ythros immobilized by his utter failure at all things to do with social convention. In the end Ythros broke, utterly lost in this new and terrifying world of conversational syntax where he couldn't scowl.

 

"I’m going to see the prisoner,” he said.

 

"Right,” said the monosyllabic Johanas.

 

"That’s it?" Ythros almost yelled.

 

"Yes,” said Johanas, ever the philosopher.

 

Ythros scowled again after passing him. Nahila had probably put the bastard there just to spite him.

 

And there she was, immobile as ever....

 

...And he was lost, he had no idea why he had desired to come here, what curiosity he had hoped to indulge, but for some reason the image of the woman dominated his thoughts, like a song in his head or an ache in his bones...

 

But for the life of him he had no idea why. He had no desire to harm her he could fulfill, no attraction, only a curiosity. But for what?

 

She watched him as if he was a new type of wall.

 

Screw conversation, staring contests were nothing to a man who had once had his eyeballs branded, and he had time to kill.

 

___________________________________________

 

 

The Escapist QoH Crew:

 

CHAPTER FOUR

 

mshcherbatskaya (Erzabet and Nahila) – story creator and executive director in charge of making people re-write their stuff because she's the boss and she can

 

Qayin (Cain) – assistant director in charge of Emo

 

Ultrajoe (Ythros) – assistant director in charge of Epic

[Rev7]

"Sith Lies"

 

 

Nice addition to the story--keep it up!

[mshcherbatskaya]

"Sith Lies"

 

 

Nice addition to the story--keep it up!

 

I'm not sure if that is intended as a correction, but the sentence in the story is correct. "Sith lie" - "lie" is a verb, like "Horses run."

 

I'm glad you like it - this is one of my favorite chapters because I love it when Nahila gets up in Ythros' face.

[Rev7]

^

I think that you mis-understood me. See, I wasn't trying to make a correction, I was pointing out that that is something that I liked in the chapter.

[mshcherbatskaya]

Aaaaahhh, OK. Sorry. Think I'm defensive much when it comes to my editing? My excuse is that, at about 65,000 words now, editing is a bit brutal, and most chapters get a triple comb-through.

[Rev7]

Its okay, lol.

[Qayin]

Qayin (Cain) here, I made a user to basically thank everyone for the kind words, and to ensure Mshcher doesn't get all the glory.

 

Having QoH here is doubly useful, as not only do the kind comments swell my ego, but I had mostly forgotten that Queen Of Hearts actually had a beginning to it - it started in August, and, well, I'd forgotten most of this happened.

 

Not that I can be utterly blamed for that, as Mshcher has said, we're well into novel-worthy size now, and still going.

 

Thanks to everyone for the kind words, my ego and I <3 you, as you are all greatly responsible, I'd say, for getting us over a large dip in motivation and activity.