Fiction Submission
I had decided to write a three-part fic (against my better judgement)
Title: Phantom Echoes
Part: 1/3
Series: Star Wars Knights of the Old Republic II: Sith Lords
Character/Pairing: Atton Rand x LSM!Exile
Rating: M
Summary: As Atton and the Exile's romance continues to deepen, Kreia's subtle and yet malicious manipulations intensify. Atton knows sooner or later, he's going to have to tell the Exile everything.... before Kreia does.
---------
Chapter One: The Price of Silence
---------
["Murderer...."]
Her haunting voice echoed throughout his mind, drowning out the shields he threw up to block anymore invasions. He rubbed his forehead with his fingers as he tried so hard to refocus himself. Once again soothed by the hum of the hyperdrive, he continued to pilot the Ebon Hawk. Putting the console on auto-pilot as the course was set for Nar Shaddaa, he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.
In his dreams, he was on Dantooine. He felt the warmth of Dantooine's sun against his face, he lifted his hand to shield his eyes from the sun's glare. The green grass felt good under his feet, and the warm summertime breeze was equally calming. With the top of the hill his destination, he started walking. A figure stood at the top of the hill, watching the clouds in the sky. The sun made the other man's blonde hair glow with it's golden rays. The man was obviously a Jedi, judging from his robes and the lightsaber he kept at his hip. He turned to look at him as he approached, and with a sparkle in eyes as blue as the seas of Manaan. The Jedi smiled sweetly under his blonde mustache, strands of soft hair brushed against his face. A relieved smile brushed against his own face, a sparkle in his dark brown eyes.
"Hey, there you are." The dark-haired scoundrel spoke with joy.
The Jedi wrapped his arms around the scoundrel, and he done the same. Both of their bodies pressed tight in a warm embrace. His dark eyes snapped open when he heard that voice again.
["Murderer...."]
In a blink of an eye, the warm summer day of Dantooine turned to ash. The tree nearby was in flames, the sky red with pillars of black smoke rising from Khoonda. He felt warm liquid splatter on his cheek, he looked at the Jedi in his arms. With terror etched in the jedi's handsome face, he backed away from the dark-haired scoundrel as blood gushed from his lips and the hole in his chest. The scoundrel's entire forearm was coated in blood, and from the looks of things, he punched his entire fist through the jedi's chest. Placed in the palm of his hand was the jedi's still-beating heart. Tears poured from the jedi's blue eyes, and he called out before he dropped.
"Atton! W-why did you kill me!?"
Atton's eyes locked in horror, watching the jedi drop and his heart still beating in his bloody hand. The scoundrel screamed, dropping the heart on the ground.
"Atton!"
Atton sat right up in the chair, his face and dark brown tresses of hair drenched in sweat. The exile - the jedi in his dreams - stood behind the chair, confused and worried. "You look troubled. Did you have another nightmare?"
"You could say that." Atton replied as he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. Immediately after, he went to work pilotting the Ebon Hawk. "So, how'd your meeting go with that Jedi Master?"
The exile rubbed the back of his neck with his hand and groaned. "Master Vrook is preachy as always..... and still a pompous ass."
"Unsurprising. You looked mad when you came back from Khoonda."
"It wasn't that though. Vrook didn't answer any of my questions. He was evasive.... as always." The exile sighed, one hand on his hip. "I do hope that at least Master Kavar, Master Vash and Master Zez Kai-Ell will answer them."
"I doubt it." Atton smiled, raising his hand to caress the exile's. "But relax, we'll finally get to breathe easy once we land at Nar Shaddaa."
"Hmm."
"What is it?" Curiously, Atton asked.
"Doesn't the Exchange set up shop at Nar Shaddaa?"
"Hmm, yeah. That's right. I almost forgot." Standing up from the chair, Atton turned to face the exile. "As long as we keep a low profile, they won't notice a thing. If they do, I'm here."
Something about the look in Atton's dark brown eyes seemed off to the exile. Instead of looking determined, the look seemed troubled; sad. Something was calling out to him from within, something that was pained and needed peace. The exile, concerned about that; made a mental note to ask him about what was troubling him later. His fingers reached up to brush away strands of blonde hair back behind his ear, the exile slowly turned in the direction of the main hold. "Let me know when we're close to landing, okay?"
"Sure." The scoundrel replied, watching the exile with admiration. He watched the figure of the exile retreat into the main hold. Atton then turned toward the console and stared into it for a minute. Thoughts began to surface; thoughts and indecisions of telling the exile of a disturbing secret that was festering inside him. Then trying to remain focused on the task at hand, the scoundrel reached up to touch the consoles and keep the Ebon Hawk on it's course to Nar Shaddaa. While that remained the subject of mental debate, one thing became crystal clear. Atton feels that Kreia wishes to do the exile a great harm, and now he must protect the exile. If not only from the threat of the Exchange, the Sith and other unplesantries; but from Kreia as well.
-------
Refugees huddled together in the cargo crate, either from the cold or from fright. Nar Shaddaa was the only place these refugees could go - where he could go. Using a torn, dirty cloak as a means to keep himself warm and to hide his face, the dark entity sat quietly in the corner. With distant dark brown eyes, he watched the refugee directors trying their best to calm down the frightened refugees. The cargo freighter was attacked and they all felt the shake of the hull as blaster fire hit. As a refugee director made his way over to see if he was okay, the figure only remained still. Then he shook his hand to tell the director he was okay. The director only shrugged and returned to his duties.
Once the cargo crate opened it's durasteel doors, they were in the Refugee Sector of Nar Shaddaa. The director ushered everyone off the crate but he noticed the cloaked figure gone. The old man scratched his bald head, but kept doing his job.
His footsteps didn't echo as he ran on the metal floors of Nar Shaddaa's marketsquare. He had to get to the flophouse at the northern docks before anyone could see him. But four muggers stopped him at the doors that lead to the docks, and four more appeared behind him.
"Hand over your credits and other valuables!" The ringleader shouted, a blaster in his grimy hand. The distant stare of his dark brown eyes turned ice cold as he grabbed his cloak and tore it off. The stranger was wearing Sith assassin armor, and from his side he drew an Echani Vibrosword. The common thugs didn't know what hit them. In a blink of an eye, seven were dead and the ringleader found the blade of the Vibrosword to his neck. His blaster fell to the floor, cut in half.
"Now hand me YOUR credits and valuables, tough guy." The assassin spoke, the blade dangerously close to the thief's throat.
"I-i have no credits!" The mugger pleaded, frightened for his life. Something caused the assassin to withdraw his blade, but he kept an eye on the thief. "A-are you a M-mandalorian?"
"You wish." The assassin hissed, before cloaking himself agan. As silent as a cat, he ducked into the doorway leading to the docks.
Quietly, he made the room he occupied a temporary home. Across the narrow walkway, he could hear a couple arguing and the word 'Schutta' tossed around a few times. A Twi'lek walked passed the door, staggering as if he was drunk. The exhaust of the freighters was indeed nauseating, but he was able to resist. His trembling hand closed the door, and within seconds he flew into a fit of rage, tearing off the Sith assassin armor with his bare hands. After the armor was forceably removed, the brunette assassin grabbed his Echani Vibrosword and slammed the flat of the blade against the durasteel table until the blade broke into five splintered pieces. His back pressed against the wall, sliding down until he was seated on the dirty floor. The cold steel on his naked back and the chilly night air was not nearly as cold as the life of solitude he now emersed himself in.
Her voice echoed repeatedly in his mind, her final words, her confessions.
["You.... I know what you are. You are like us. Sooner or later, Revan's kath hounds will come for you."]
"...." His eyebrows furrowed, his dark brown eyes stared dangerously into the wall across from him. "...what do you know, schutta?"
And with no fanfare, the former Sith assassin closed his eyes and let sleep consume him.
---------
["You will not find blind obedience a difficult master. You chose it once, you will learn to embrace it again."]
"Atton?"
"Uhm? Oh, hey. Was I zoning again?"
The cold air of Nar Shaddaa whipped through the exile's blonde hair; a sigh escaped his mouth and shook his head. Atton shrugged; "What?"
Putting behind the two as they headed for the trading hub, the quirky little astromech T3-M4 followed close behind. A bit displeased by that, the brunette scondrel looked at the exile. "What's that little cargo cylinder doing following us?"
T3 whirled and bleeped insistantly, the exile translated. "Because that Rodian in Khoonda didn't have any droid parts, and I promised him if he were a good boy, I'd buy him some new droid upgrades."
"Oh dear lords, now you're making promises to a walking refresher like he were a housebroken gizka." With that, Atton tossed his arms in the air in defeat.
"Is Atton a little bit jealous?" The exile giggled playfully, throwing a wink at Atton.
"Me? Jealous?! Ha! What's he got that I don't?"
T3 lit up and began bleeping and whirled an astromech's equivalant to laughing.
"You're laughing at me!? Come here, you trash compactor! I'll turn you into scrap!" And a laughing T3 putted off with an angry Atton hot on it's trail.
"Those two...." Chuckling playfully, the exile smiled and gently shook his head. Walking at an even pace, the former jedi followed them both.
Meanwhile, cloaked from all the ships that hovered over Nar Shaddaa was a ship encased in dark metals. There were barely any lights on it, except the blipping of a few beacons. A couple of smaller vessels were docked up on the ship's loading dock. Inside the mysterious ship was a luxurious but not very cozy setting. Black orb-like droids with one red eye floated about, guarding the halls of the ship. A specially-made floating orb-like droid entered the round audience room, which was filled with various bounty hunters. The bounty hunters consisted of a family of average-armed Duros, a Wookiee with twin Ryyk blades, three silver HK-50 droids and two female Twi'lek assassins. The orb floated in the middle of the room and emitted a holographic image of a small man with a well-kept beard and mustache. Only moments later, with an eletronic voice, it spoke.
"The jedi walks on Nar Shaddaa....."
---CONTINUED---
Title: Phantom Echoes
Part: 1/3
Series: Star Wars Knights of the Old Republic II: Sith Lords
Character/Pairing: Atton Rand x LSM!Exile
Rating: M
Summary: As Atton and the Exile's romance continues to deepen, Kreia's subtle and yet malicious manipulations intensify. Atton knows sooner or later, he's going to have to tell the Exile everything.... before Kreia does.
---------
Chapter One: The Price of Silence
---------
["Murderer...."]
Her haunting voice echoed throughout his mind, drowning out the shields he threw up to block anymore invasions. He rubbed his forehead with his fingers as he tried so hard to refocus himself. Once again soothed by the hum of the hyperdrive, he continued to pilot the Ebon Hawk. Putting the console on auto-pilot as the course was set for Nar Shaddaa, he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.
In his dreams, he was on Dantooine. He felt the warmth of Dantooine's sun against his face, he lifted his hand to shield his eyes from the sun's glare. The green grass felt good under his feet, and the warm summertime breeze was equally calming. With the top of the hill his destination, he started walking. A figure stood at the top of the hill, watching the clouds in the sky. The sun made the other man's blonde hair glow with it's golden rays. The man was obviously a Jedi, judging from his robes and the lightsaber he kept at his hip. He turned to look at him as he approached, and with a sparkle in eyes as blue as the seas of Manaan. The Jedi smiled sweetly under his blonde mustache, strands of soft hair brushed against his face. A relieved smile brushed against his own face, a sparkle in his dark brown eyes.
"Hey, there you are." The dark-haired scoundrel spoke with joy.
The Jedi wrapped his arms around the scoundrel, and he done the same. Both of their bodies pressed tight in a warm embrace. His dark eyes snapped open when he heard that voice again.
["Murderer...."]
In a blink of an eye, the warm summer day of Dantooine turned to ash. The tree nearby was in flames, the sky red with pillars of black smoke rising from Khoonda. He felt warm liquid splatter on his cheek, he looked at the Jedi in his arms. With terror etched in the jedi's handsome face, he backed away from the dark-haired scoundrel as blood gushed from his lips and the hole in his chest. The scoundrel's entire forearm was coated in blood, and from the looks of things, he punched his entire fist through the jedi's chest. Placed in the palm of his hand was the jedi's still-beating heart. Tears poured from the jedi's blue eyes, and he called out before he dropped.
"Atton! W-why did you kill me!?"
Atton's eyes locked in horror, watching the jedi drop and his heart still beating in his bloody hand. The scoundrel screamed, dropping the heart on the ground.
"Atton!"
Atton sat right up in the chair, his face and dark brown tresses of hair drenched in sweat. The exile - the jedi in his dreams - stood behind the chair, confused and worried. "You look troubled. Did you have another nightmare?"
"You could say that." Atton replied as he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. Immediately after, he went to work pilotting the Ebon Hawk. "So, how'd your meeting go with that Jedi Master?"
The exile rubbed the back of his neck with his hand and groaned. "Master Vrook is preachy as always..... and still a pompous ass."
"Unsurprising. You looked mad when you came back from Khoonda."
"It wasn't that though. Vrook didn't answer any of my questions. He was evasive.... as always." The exile sighed, one hand on his hip. "I do hope that at least Master Kavar, Master Vash and Master Zez Kai-Ell will answer them."
"I doubt it." Atton smiled, raising his hand to caress the exile's. "But relax, we'll finally get to breathe easy once we land at Nar Shaddaa."
"Hmm."
"What is it?" Curiously, Atton asked.
"Doesn't the Exchange set up shop at Nar Shaddaa?"
"Hmm, yeah. That's right. I almost forgot." Standing up from the chair, Atton turned to face the exile. "As long as we keep a low profile, they won't notice a thing. If they do, I'm here."
Something about the look in Atton's dark brown eyes seemed off to the exile. Instead of looking determined, the look seemed troubled; sad. Something was calling out to him from within, something that was pained and needed peace. The exile, concerned about that; made a mental note to ask him about what was troubling him later. His fingers reached up to brush away strands of blonde hair back behind his ear, the exile slowly turned in the direction of the main hold. "Let me know when we're close to landing, okay?"
"Sure." The scoundrel replied, watching the exile with admiration. He watched the figure of the exile retreat into the main hold. Atton then turned toward the console and stared into it for a minute. Thoughts began to surface; thoughts and indecisions of telling the exile of a disturbing secret that was festering inside him. Then trying to remain focused on the task at hand, the scoundrel reached up to touch the consoles and keep the Ebon Hawk on it's course to Nar Shaddaa. While that remained the subject of mental debate, one thing became crystal clear. Atton feels that Kreia wishes to do the exile a great harm, and now he must protect the exile. If not only from the threat of the Exchange, the Sith and other unplesantries; but from Kreia as well.
-------
Refugees huddled together in the cargo crate, either from the cold or from fright. Nar Shaddaa was the only place these refugees could go - where he could go. Using a torn, dirty cloak as a means to keep himself warm and to hide his face, the dark entity sat quietly in the corner. With distant dark brown eyes, he watched the refugee directors trying their best to calm down the frightened refugees. The cargo freighter was attacked and they all felt the shake of the hull as blaster fire hit. As a refugee director made his way over to see if he was okay, the figure only remained still. Then he shook his hand to tell the director he was okay. The director only shrugged and returned to his duties.
Once the cargo crate opened it's durasteel doors, they were in the Refugee Sector of Nar Shaddaa. The director ushered everyone off the crate but he noticed the cloaked figure gone. The old man scratched his bald head, but kept doing his job.
His footsteps didn't echo as he ran on the metal floors of Nar Shaddaa's marketsquare. He had to get to the flophouse at the northern docks before anyone could see him. But four muggers stopped him at the doors that lead to the docks, and four more appeared behind him.
"Hand over your credits and other valuables!" The ringleader shouted, a blaster in his grimy hand. The distant stare of his dark brown eyes turned ice cold as he grabbed his cloak and tore it off. The stranger was wearing Sith assassin armor, and from his side he drew an Echani Vibrosword. The common thugs didn't know what hit them. In a blink of an eye, seven were dead and the ringleader found the blade of the Vibrosword to his neck. His blaster fell to the floor, cut in half.
"Now hand me YOUR credits and valuables, tough guy." The assassin spoke, the blade dangerously close to the thief's throat.
"I-i have no credits!" The mugger pleaded, frightened for his life. Something caused the assassin to withdraw his blade, but he kept an eye on the thief. "A-are you a M-mandalorian?"
"You wish." The assassin hissed, before cloaking himself agan. As silent as a cat, he ducked into the doorway leading to the docks.
Quietly, he made the room he occupied a temporary home. Across the narrow walkway, he could hear a couple arguing and the word 'Schutta' tossed around a few times. A Twi'lek walked passed the door, staggering as if he was drunk. The exhaust of the freighters was indeed nauseating, but he was able to resist. His trembling hand closed the door, and within seconds he flew into a fit of rage, tearing off the Sith assassin armor with his bare hands. After the armor was forceably removed, the brunette assassin grabbed his Echani Vibrosword and slammed the flat of the blade against the durasteel table until the blade broke into five splintered pieces. His back pressed against the wall, sliding down until he was seated on the dirty floor. The cold steel on his naked back and the chilly night air was not nearly as cold as the life of solitude he now emersed himself in.
Her voice echoed repeatedly in his mind, her final words, her confessions.
["You.... I know what you are. You are like us. Sooner or later, Revan's kath hounds will come for you."]
"...." His eyebrows furrowed, his dark brown eyes stared dangerously into the wall across from him. "...what do you know, schutta?"
And with no fanfare, the former Sith assassin closed his eyes and let sleep consume him.
---------
["You will not find blind obedience a difficult master. You chose it once, you will learn to embrace it again."]
"Atton?"
"Uhm? Oh, hey. Was I zoning again?"
The cold air of Nar Shaddaa whipped through the exile's blonde hair; a sigh escaped his mouth and shook his head. Atton shrugged; "What?"
Putting behind the two as they headed for the trading hub, the quirky little astromech T3-M4 followed close behind. A bit displeased by that, the brunette scondrel looked at the exile. "What's that little cargo cylinder doing following us?"
T3 whirled and bleeped insistantly, the exile translated. "Because that Rodian in Khoonda didn't have any droid parts, and I promised him if he were a good boy, I'd buy him some new droid upgrades."
"Oh dear lords, now you're making promises to a walking refresher like he were a housebroken gizka." With that, Atton tossed his arms in the air in defeat.
"Is Atton a little bit jealous?" The exile giggled playfully, throwing a wink at Atton.
"Me? Jealous?! Ha! What's he got that I don't?"
T3 lit up and began bleeping and whirled an astromech's equivalant to laughing.
"You're laughing at me!? Come here, you trash compactor! I'll turn you into scrap!" And a laughing T3 putted off with an angry Atton hot on it's trail.
"Those two...." Chuckling playfully, the exile smiled and gently shook his head. Walking at an even pace, the former jedi followed them both.
Meanwhile, cloaked from all the ships that hovered over Nar Shaddaa was a ship encased in dark metals. There were barely any lights on it, except the blipping of a few beacons. A couple of smaller vessels were docked up on the ship's loading dock. Inside the mysterious ship was a luxurious but not very cozy setting. Black orb-like droids with one red eye floated about, guarding the halls of the ship. A specially-made floating orb-like droid entered the round audience room, which was filled with various bounty hunters. The bounty hunters consisted of a family of average-armed Duros, a Wookiee with twin Ryyk blades, three silver HK-50 droids and two female Twi'lek assassins. The orb floated in the middle of the room and emitted a holographic image of a small man with a well-kept beard and mustache. Only moments later, with an eletronic voice, it spoke.
"The jedi walks on Nar Shaddaa....."
---CONTINUED---