The Things I've Done

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

The lights were dim. Very nearly unlit. All was quiet in the quarters that belonged to the General and his Jedi Counsel. But it was not unoccupied.

Sitting behind his desk, shrouded in a shadow that was nearly swallowed up itself by the room's lack of illumination, Loklorien s'Ilancy stared at the dormant lightsabre that rested on the desk's surface. Smeared with dried blood, it was the fruits of her labor. The ill-gotten treacherous fruit that waited for her. And ultimately... him. Her Master. Her life-partner. The one who had demanded so high a price in return for his affections.

And she would pay his price. She would pay any price he set to her. She knew it; he knew it. It was the way of things.

She did not wear her Jedi robes. Not because she felt it would be sacrilegious to do so, but simply because they were unnecessary. I the wake of her required payment, she had no need for them, instead choosing to wear the clothing that belonged to the matron of any Greater House. Simple and elegant.

She waited for him.

The price he had demanded waited for him.

[Darth Decepis]

The symbol of the crime that had been done began to move, sliding on the desk until it cleared the surface, guided by an unseen hand to a figure waiting in the darkness. Two yellow, hate-filled eyes peered down at the grisly token.

"At last, it has begun."

A smile, empty of mirth or any shred of redemption could barely be seen from beneath a dreadful black cowl.

"You have done well, Lordess Acera."

[Darth Acera]

She watched as his prize was inspected, turned over in gnarled hands that had so easily bent her to his will. She looked to the side ever so slightly, as if it all bored her. Far from however, his praise gave her satisfaction, and pride welled up from the pit of her stomach.

"I have only done as you asked."

Leaning back in the seat that he himself normally occupied, Acera stared at him from over the top of her eye.

"Or did you think me incapable... ?"

[Darth Decepis]

Gnarled knuckles tightened with an innate mastery over the captured lightsaber, as Decepis's baleful eyes turned to his apprentice.

"Your capacity for mastering the Dark Side remains the same as it ever was. All that remains is for you to realize it. All of it."

The Lord of the Sith activated the fallen Jedi's lightsaber, inspecting it's blue blade as he turned the weapon in his hands.

"Tell me how this one died, Acera. You are a student of books, as am I. I demand a prologue to the chapters to come."

[Darth Acera]

A moment's hesitation, and the Lupine slowly leaned forward, pushing the leather chair back while rising to her feet. Her smooth gait brought her to stand before her Master, and with a look that matched his, she watched him bathe himself in the glow of blue death.

Face upturned, Acera drew close. She disregarded the blade he held, reaching out to lay her hand over his and push it gently to the wayside.

"Come then. See for yourself."

It was an invitation, a beckoning. All he wished to see was in her mind's eye, waiting for him.

[Darth Decepis]

Deactivating the saber, Decepis reached forward with his other hand, it's wrinkled form resting on the side of her face, fingers gnarled at her temple and the bridge of her nose.

"Give me your sight, and everything you have seen. Make them mine."

Lids slowly covered yellow eyes, and the Dark Lord drew from Acera her visceral recollections of murder, as easily as he might draw water from a well.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

* * *


Officially she was not aboard the Wheel. Officially, she was with the Dauntless and the rest of General Dan's fleet, her position as his aide and counsel making her trips to the Jedi fleet few and far between. With the bulk of her time occupied elsewhere it was always such a treat to leave. To be in the presence of those so much like her.

And yet they weren't. There would always be a part of her that none could be companion to. Except for her Master - he'd placed himself in just that position so that her being was whole, and it was because of him that she was now here. None knew of her presence, having slipped aboard the Whaladon only an hour before the unorthodox arrival of Layla.

The carefully controlled panic that had swept through with the arrival of an Imperial Star Destroyer (http://sw-fans.net/forum/showthread.php?t=21139) was palpable, and the Lupine was tempted to dip an ethereal finger into the mix. To taste and relish. But she stayed her thoughts - if she committed such an action she would be discovered.

Rather, she stood alone, a single dark-robed figure in one of the few airlocks aboard the ship. The door was open, inviting any to enter. She did not worry over the thought of being discovered by the higher ranking Jedi; no, they were all too busy securing the rest of the fleet in the face of this unexpected Imperial attack.

Like some black statue, her figure stood rooted to the deck, her hood obscuring her face.

She would wait. She would wait and her chosen would come. He would come to her as if she were the only beacon of safety to be found in this disaster.

[Merran Threl]

"Master s'Ilancy?"

Merran Threl, a padawan and passenger on the Wheel for the past year, paused in the midst of his sprinting down the corridors of Whaladon to help assist in the fleet's defense. He sensed something strange with her.

"The fleet's under attack, we're being summoned to the cargo bay."

She didn't move. Curious, he walked toward the airlock.

"Master, is everything alright?"

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

Her form was unmoving, as if the padawan's presence wasn't even registered.

She recognized his voice - Merran Threl. The boy was a credit to his training for the relatively short amount of time he'd been with the Wheel. It was a pity that his flame would be extinguished so prematurely.

Slowly, as if her arm was weighted, the Lupine raised her hand up, beckoning him nearer. Beneath the hood over her head, her lips moved to silently mouth an order for him to come closer.

[Merran Threl]

With a look of concern growing deeper on his face, he approached the Jedi Master.

"The airlock isn't a safe place to be in the fight. With respect, I think we should both go to the cargo bay."

[Darth Acera]

"It is safe enough," she finally whispered.

He was close enough now to grab a hold of his wrist, and with a forceful pull she drew him close against her own body. For the briefest of moments she looked over his shoulder before finally meeting his eyes.

Brown met the broken gaze of murky grey and diseased orange, and in that instant Master and Padawan seemed placed out of time like two souls alone in the galaxy.

[Merran Threl]

"That feeling in you..."

Merran's face twisted in confusion and, at last, realization. His eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to shout for the others.

Master s'Ilancy had fallen to the Dark Side.

[Darth Acera]

Her grip on his wrist was like steel, and without warning her other lashed up and out, the knife-edge of her hand connecting quickly and viciously with his throat in a blow that cut off his warning cry before it even started. The stunned look that passed over his eyes was taken in with a stare that seemed almost to pull the very life from him, picking apart and wallowing in the fear she now saw so plainly.

Closer she pulled him, until their bodies were crushed together. She could taste his anguish, his panic. It was a sweet taste, like Corellian sugar on her lips.

"Ssshhh..."

Her soothing hush was unnecessary. His crushed windpipe would emit no more sound.

As if it'd always been in her hand, a curved dagger glinted in the light of the glowpanels before burying itself deep into his side.

[Merran Threl]

"Gghhhk..."

The shock of the strike to his throat blunted almost entirely the feeling of pain as Master s'Ilancy drove a blade into him. He looked at her with an expression of anguish and shock, his lightsaber drawing out in his free hand and activating as he attempted to bring it down across the dark sider's neck.

[Darth Acera]

His resistance was met with calm, and releasing her hold on the dagger so that it still lay nestled in his body, the Lupine reached up to deflect his shaking swing. Fingers closed around his wrist, stopping the blade and angling it to the side.

In a flourish she swept the both of them in a tight half-circle, so that her back was to the airlock door as it closed ponderously. Now they were truly alone, cut off from any who might intrude.

Her grip on his wrist constricted. She felt his entire body shudder with the pain, and the Lupine closed her eyes in the feeling. His attempt to step away was only met with a firm hand to the back of his neck, holding him fast.

"Ssshhh... "

s'Il felt the bones in his wrist crumble in her grip, and as the first audible snap filled the air, his sabre dropped to the deck, its' blue blade extinguishing itself.

[Merran Threl]

His mouth opened to give pathetically little protest as his wrist was broken by the fallen Jedi. With waning strength, he reached to his side with his other hand, fumbling at the dagger to release it from his side. Perhaps with that, he could put a stop to her. With a face contorted in agony, he wrenched the blade free, stabbing backwards at his assailant in vain.

[Darth Acera]

His willingness to continue a losing battle was commendable, but foolish. He would die; it was commanded by a voice higher than hers.

As if she were merely plucking a toy from a child's hand the Lupine twisted her hand about, deftly lifting the blade from his unsteady grasp. He was not long for this galaxy.

Slowly, she leaned forward to give his forehead a motherly kiss.

"It is not so bad, death."

He couldn't answer she knew, so her quiet voice went on.

"A shame that yours will be so worthless."

[Merran Threl]

A weak and trembling hand reached out for her own hold at his neck. He could feel his life force fading, knowing the wound she gave him would be mortal if not treated soon. With the thick of combat all around them, he realized that this small betrayal was likely to go unnoticed.

He simply mouthed why?

[Darth Acera]

Why indeed.

She could have prolonged his death, drawn it out so that he could hear however long of an explanation that she might choose to give. Instead, a gentle smile - so alien on her harsh lined features - graced her lips.

"Because I will it."

With the hand holding her curved dagger, she reached up, index finger extended to wipe away the beginnings of a bewildered tear forming at the outer corner of one of his eyes.

A smear of blood was left on his cheek.

"Tell me, young Padawan... "

In one fluid motion the blade was brought across his throat, the edge cutting an invisible line from ear to ear.

"... who's blood is this?"

It was a slow trickle, the thin rivulets of blood that began to seep from the line she'd just drawn.

[Merran Threl]

Merran stumbled forward, the coup de grace now given. Blood poured from his throat in earnest, and rather than use his last energy to stem the tide, he began a slow collapse to the ground, his hand weakly pointing at Lok as he mouthed...

yooouuurrrsss....

His last efforts expended, Merran fell dead to the ground.

[Darth Acera]

She watched him fade from life. Watched as the glint of his inner soul ebbed from his eyes. His accusing finger, in answer to her question, was brushed away with little thought as the Lupine idly called his fallen sabre to a waiting palm. She turned it over in two hands, inspecting each facet and edge. Its' metallic sheen smudged by his still fresh blood, she pursed her lips.

Her gaze went from the weapon to his now-lifeless body, then once more to the lightsabre she held.

Straightening, Acera blinked. One last glance to the lifeless form at her feet, and she turned about on her heel. The airlock door opened to allow her exit, and without ceremony she stepped through. It closed once more, shutting Merran Threl's body into loneliness.

The outer doors opened then, as her fingers pulled away from the button that activated their release latches, and the padawan was dragged out into space.



* * *


In the reliving of her actions, Acera had without conscious thought placed her own hand upon her Master's face, transferring her impassive and cold emotions to him. This was no act of simply taking, but a mutual sharing as she gave freely to him. He wished to see what she had seen, and the Lupine would give him anything he desired.

Every emotion she'd felt from Merran Threl, every instance of pain and fear and hurt, she gave without any hesitation.

And she could feel him drawing deeply, insatiable as his thoughts dug deeper, craving more of the padawan's helplessness.

"I... "

She gasped then, feeling as he seemed to tighten his grip, bringing her as close to his body as possible - as if in doing so he could wring every drop of the experience from her.

"... nothing left... "

[Darth Decepis]

At her admission of finality, Decepis let go of her, closing his eyes as he exhaled. When he opened them again, a faint smile touched his lips.

"You have put your hatred into deeds. Your transformation into the instrument of my desires, and the heir to my power is complete."

He slowly returned the lightsaber to Acera.

"Keep it. Let it forever remind you who you are. There will be many to try to save you from yourself. That is their destiny."

[Darth Acera]

She took the sabre, holding it in deceptively gentle hands before taking a half-step away from him.

"There is nothing to be saved from."

It was said with such conviction. Truly, was she really in need of being saved? She chose her path - what others thought of its' rights or wrongs was irrelevant.

She turned away from him, moving to set the weapon on his desk.

"My presence there will never be discovered; I made sure of that."

And indeed she had, removing any fingerprints or tell-tale sign that she had been with the Wheel during that tumultuous time.

"Only the blood remains."

Facing him once more, the Lupine reached out to take his hand in hers.

"They will know that one of their own has been taken from them, but that is all."

She brought her free hand up to caress the side of his aged face, feeling each line and imperfection brought on by his twisted hold of the Force.

"By the time you emerge from the shadows to claim what is rightfully yours, it will be too late."

[Darth Decepis]

"Good. The loss of their own among their sanctuary will lead to uncertainty and fear. It will lead to their undoing."

Breaking his grasp from hers, he clasped his own hands together and paced around her.

"You must continue to insinuate yourself among the Jedi. I forsee many things transpiring that I desire to control. There is another presence of darkness surrounding the Wheel. Perhaps more."

His scowl deepened.

"Heretics of the Dark Side shall not be suffered. The destruction of the Jedi is our prize, alone. Find these heretics, use them to your benefit, and destroy them. I will not have my fruit sullied by vermin before it is picked from the vine."

[Darth Acera]

The Lupine pulled an odd face. She stared at her hand, which had so recently grasped his, and a scowl darkened her features as fingers closed, hand going once more to rest at her side.

She watched him stalk his way around her, her head turning to follow him as he moved. When he came to a stop once more, Acera stared at him.

"What would it matter? If we can brand them all as enemies of the Alliance, would not the taste of your mastery be sweeter? If these 'heretics' exist within the ranks of the Jedi - when all are swept away, even they will know that their small-minded meddling and scheming will have been as worthless as the Jedi they sought to undo."

[Darth Decepis]

Decepis paused at this, earnestly considering her suggestion.

"Yesss..."

Yellow eyes met his apprentice, and narrowed.

"If we allow the cancer to fester, it would present a convincing argument that the entire Jedi order is rotten from within by the dark side."

The Dark Lord of the Sith smiled an awful smile.

"Your instincts serve you well, my Apprentice. Very well. Monitor the heretics from afar, but stay your hand. They may yet be useful in fomenting the seeds of both the Jedi's destruction, as well as their own."

[Darth Acera]

* * *



Baskarn, in the Outer Rim



She was perched high among the upper foliage, the dense jungles of Baskarn making it easy to keep hidden. Far below, her eye followed the wandering figure of a young padawan. Apparently the girl had strayed too far into the jungle, her curiosity apparently getting the better of her and separating her from the Jedi Master she had traveled with.

Acera moved in silence, stepping from thick branch to thick branch as she followed the young one, malevolent hunger glinting in her yellow eye.

[Lucentia Pavan]

The hem of Lucenita's robes trailed through sodden mud. “This... isn't funny, now.”

She'd been traipsing through the rainforest of Baskarn for what must have been an hour now, having well and truly lost the proverbial beaten-path she and her Jedi master had been trekking along. They had come to the Outer Rim in search of the native Yrashu, who were said to be naturally gifted in their use of the Force.

“Which is more than can be said for me,” the padawan muttered, gathering up handfuls of her muddy robes as she traipsed through the undergrowth. At her master's instruction, they had parted ways in an attempt to cover more ground. Their paths were supposed to curve towards one another, so that they would meet eventually, but Lucentia had walked far too quickly and over-shot their meeting point. Now, she had lost her bearings completely and the guiding light of the Force had been swallowed up in the leafy shadows of the jungle.

[Darth Acera]

Working her way down through the treetops as she followed along, Acera felt her boots hit the soft earth without a sound. She was a fair enough distance behind the padawan, and could see the young woman picking her way through the dense jungle floor up ahead.

Lucentia Pavan.

Acera had seen her aboard the Whaladon more than once; enough to even say a few words to her in passing.

Reaching out to the side, the Lupine Sith closed her hand around an offshoot of the tree she stood beside, and with a sudden pull, snapped it in two with enough force to send the audible crack all around.

[Lucentia Pavan]

The sound startled her, but given how little poise she was carrying herself with, it looked simply as if Lucentia had once again made a mis-step in the tangle of vines under foot. She almost swore but caught herself, unwilling to stoop to such things even in the apparent solitude of the jungle.

Whirling around, she looked in the direction the crack had come from. Her brows had gathered in a frown and her lips were pursed into a pout. “It's very rude to sneak up on someone like this,” she announced irritably, to the jungle at large.

[Darth Acera]

The annoyed tone of voice that had been used made her smile a thin smile, and releasing the now broken branch, Acera started forward. She was no longer concerned with hiding herself; they were alone now, just the two of them.

High above, a native bird sounded its' siren-like call, gliding over the treetops as it let the air current keep it aloft.

Drawing ever closer, the Lupine stepped over a rotting stump. Her head was angled down, but she kept her gaze locked on Lucentia from over the tops of her eyes.

Still that smile.

"My dear," the voice was unmistakeably that of Master s'Ilancy, but her whole appearance was distorted, marred by an aura of malicious intent. "... if I was worried about being rude, I'd have not bothered to come here."

[Lucentia Pavan]

The girl gasped – and then sighed, though the sight of the approaching figure did little to steady her shivering pulse. She bowed, finding it difficult to muster any grace given the circumstances. “Master s'Ilancy. Please forgive me. I was.. startled. I wasn't aware that you.. would be joining us today.”

As the elder Jedi neared, Lucentia's words slowed. “Have you seen.. Master Dric'han? I have.. lost my way.”

[Darth Acera]

"I dare say you have, Padawan... "

Closing the distance between them, Acera smoothly unclipped the jointed sabre hilt from her belt, activating the thumb-switch. The snap-hiss it emitted as the pale yellow blade sprung to life was menacing, as if it was starved for the blood that it would soon taste.

Closer she came.

"... I dare say you have."