Yep. I’m writing a KotOR II fanfic, based on my last playthrough. This is only one version of the Exile, my Atton-paired Exile. I might change her name; I named her Syrene randomly in my playthrough but considering I already have a fic about someone named Syrene, that’s probably not a good idea.. I don’t think I’ll write a Mical-paired Exile fic, so don’t worry… Why not? I don’t find Mical as interesting as Atton. He’s handsome, but there’s something weird about his face. He has a nice voice, but there’s something annoyingly pedantic about it. He’s my kind of hero, earnest and brave and caring, except that he’s completely lacking a sense of humour. …Sooooo… Atton wins, haha. But if I did write a Mical-paired Exile, she would tease and be brash and get under his skin, because I’m interested in the ‘opposites attracting’ trope at the moment. So Atton gets the gentlest woman in the galaxy, and Mical gets a coquette. : P
EDIT: Exile is now Sophie. 😀
This is just the prologue, and just what I hammered out in the last three hours (I spent a lot of time on Wookieepedia…) so it’s pretty rough.
I might write a bit of femRevan/Carth-ness, just to show the difference between Revan and Exile, but not tonight. Also, Revan is canonically 36 by the time of Malachor V, I calculated… I find this to be a bit old to be a ‘rebellious young Knight’, so she’s only 32 at the time of Malachor. Malak is 28, and Exile is 26. And yeah, I play femRev. Sorry.
Playing with the Sith Lords Restoration Project Mod, and the M4-78 mod. They are great and you should totally get them. It took me 50 hours to play through, and it was worth every click. I’m obsessed with roleplaying atm. It lets me pretend that I can be someone who matters, someone who can make a difference, someone who can help people. Also someone who can be badass, but that’s a little bit beside the point.
EDIT 2: Exile is now Selyn, which was apparently my original name for her.
Part 1: The Mandalorian War
She stood in the crowd, watching her friends. Revan was gesticulating passionately, pouring all of her persuasive powers into her earnest plea. “We must help them! Is it not the duty of a Jedi to help the people? We may not be soldiers, we may be peaceful warriors, but we can fight for the defense of the Outer Rim, for the lives and safety of the trillions who live there, those who would be slaughtered by the vicious Mandalorians.” Alek stood behind her, a strong, manly shadow, nodding emphatically with her.
Selyn liked hearing Revan speak like this. In private, Revan was a tease, a confident woman with a broad sense of humour. But she was a true Knight, and gave gladly of her aid to anyone who asked. Even and especially the Republic.
The crowd cheered, a crowd of Jedi and Padawans, most of them younger than Selyn herself, and she was only twenty-three. There were so many of them, so young and energetic and devoted to the Light, trained so well under their Masters.
There was a hum as Revan lit her saber, cobalt blue. It reflected in her cool grey eyes. Behind her, Alek raised his golden saber, and Selyn was the first in the crowd to lift her silver blade, followed swiftly by a myriad of colours from the Jedi around them.
“The Council will not protect the Rim,” Revan cried. “It is up to us to do what what must be done. I cannot live protected by the Council while others suffer and die in the flames of war.”
“We are with you, Revan!” Alek responded, and another cheer rose from the crowd.
“Then we shall leave for the Fleet in two days,” Revan said. “Bring only what you need. Bid farewell to your friends who remain, and charge them with keeping this place a strong sanctuary, for though we must leave, it is no shame to remain. And then – then the Mandalorians will destroy lives no longer.”
She stood shin-deep in mud, wiping the rain from her brow and flinching at the explosions. While the Republic Fleet and the Mandalorians were tangled up in space above the jungle moon, one side or the other would sometimes spare a turbolaser blast for the struggle on the ground, and the minefields and cannon fire were a constant rumble.
And it was a terrible struggle. The Mandalorians were strong and fierce. They had been fighting for a week over the same patch of ground. This day, the Republic would drive them back two kilometers, or Selyn would die in the attempt.
Her men nodded wearily at her, but they still smiled to see her. Her presence inspired them, somehow. She checked in with her captains, and they nodded. Her forces were ready. She pointed with her lightsaber, and together they began the charge towards the Mandalorian lines.
She did not want to think about the bloodbath that was about to begin.
She stood on the bridge of the Reconciler – a name she had come to hate, for their war had no reconciliation in it anywhere – and gazed down on Malachor V. Revan had led them here, in her insight and tactical genius. Here their last hope would be unleashed. There would be no reinforcements for either side. The Mandalorians had run out of men, and the Republic Fleet’s pride was a crippled, broken thing. It would be the last battle of a pointless, hideous war.
They came, and the battle began.
She glanced at the Zabrak tech who had been chosen to be in charge of the ‘red button’. It was a horrible thing they had constructed. Selyn had argued with Revan and Malek – as he called himself now – for months. Revan had told her sharply that they had no choice, that the Mandalorians would destroy only more systems unless their forces were completely disintegrated, and Selyn had countered softly that it was too great a sacrifice of their own side. In the end Revan convinced her. But her friends were changed by the war – she herself had been changed by the war. In the three years since Dxun, they had all grown callous to death, seeing their forces as numbers rather than people. But Revan and Malak, perhaps, had been changed more than she had.
In the end Revan convinced her. And she built the plan of battle. But the battle was not going to plan. The Mandalorians were too strong, too soon. And Revan’s fleet was delayed.
The Zabrak was watching her, of course – it was his job until she gave the order. His face was impassive, but his thoughts roiled with darkness. Her lips twitched. Soon, she thought, soon they could all go home and begin the long, slow process of healing. All of their thoughts were full of darkness. And Malachor, steeped in the Dark Side, was not helping.
Revan would not come in time. They would all die unless…
Selyn turned to the Zabrak and nodded.
It was slow, at first. But it was terrifying. The ship lurched, although it was at what had been calculated to be a safe distance.
The three planetoids of Malachor were moving. Slowly, it seemed. But something that large…
The ships of the Mandalorians, of the Republic desperately fighting them, tried to escape.
Selyn watched in fascinated horror as the three planets and both fleets were drawn to a point in space. Nearer, nearer…
The collision was indescribable. So was the pain. A hundred thousand mental shrieks tore through Selyn’s mind, and she herself screamed in the agony of their agonies.
Then, suddenly, everything went mercifully dark.