fan fiction scrollBastila’s Lament

 Bastila ShanCarth OnasiExile (Female/Light Side)


An old woman in simple tan robes sits serenely on a seat of ancient stone. Her hair is almost completely white, with traces of grey and one or two thin streaks of brown. She addresses the young girl of eight years lying at her side in bed, listening with rapt attention.

“When I was a young woman, the galaxy was quite a different place. So much has changed now.

But it is time now, for you to know. Know that long before your time, the galaxy was split in two between the forces of valor and might, light and dark.

There once existed a sacred order of knights called the Jedi, sworn to protect freedom and democracy across the stars. Know that they meditated serenely and fought bravely against the rising darkness of tyranny.”

The young girl asks with awe, “Did they win?”

With a sigh, the old woman responds, “That remains to be seen, my dear child. The war long ago moved past the boundaries of good and evil.”

“But enough of my riddles. There is one more lesson I must impart upon you tonight.”

The old woman looks into the flame of the burning oil lamp. Her eyes gleam and reflect the warm fire.
“It’s an old Jedi legend. A tale of valour and accomplishment coupled with betrayal and temptation. A tale few ears have now been privy to. But it’s a worthy one for yours, and an important lesson.”

The young girl shifts her gaze upon the old woman’s eyes.

She pauses before speaking: “This is no ordinary bed time story, my eager student. But you are ready now, ready to hear the adventures and trials of a young Jedi knight later known as Darth Revan.”

Chapter 1-Rise and Fall
Fifty years ago-on a barren planet of rock and silence deep amidst the Unknown regions of space.

“Why have you come?” The imposing figure in full robes dark as night asks from his throne.
“I seek answers to questions previously thought unanswerable,” the confident voice of the young female Jedi walking into his view responds.
“Ask, but know that anything in this world comes with a price,” the stern, unyielding voice dictates.
The dark lord of the sith shifts his yellow pupiled eyes onto the Exile’s face for the first time.
“Why did you depart for the Mandalorian wars?” The Exile asks, looking up at the steps leading to the dark throne.
“The truth of war. A hard truth indeed to grasp. Why did I fight?” Revan chuckles. “Why does it matter any longer? I fought to satiate a hunger, to satisfy a craving…what does it matter its source? Perhaps I fought for justice; maybe peace; possibly glory; even guilt.”
“Then why turn against the very people you were protecting? Why become the monster you had fought so hard against?” the voice of the Exile seems to plead for an answer.
“The price of war. Is innocence. The most brutal truth of all truths.” Revan pauses. Then, slowly and deliberately, he raises both arms above his head, lifting his hood and lowering it to reveal his pale skin.

In the moonlight, the exile clearly sees the scars on his face, marks of sith initiation.
Revan smiles briefly. The exile steels her nerves once again:
“I too served at Malachor V, the battle that gave way to destruction and carnage previously thought unimaginable. I know of war, Revan. Even atrocity. But of betrayal, no one can know more than you. You led scores of Jedi to their doom without remorse.”
“You say I acted without compassion? Without loyalty? Without…consistency?” Revan asks with a trace of irony.
“I do not understand, how a servant of the light could have fallen so far, in such a short time.” The exile retorts.
“Perhaps I tasted power and experienced freedom as I had never thought possible. Is that not an adequate motive?”
“Why, then. Why redeem yourself against Malak when you had the mantle of the Dark Lord?” The exile implores.
“That…was not my choice. I was broken and remade. That I reverted back to my dogmatic Jedi beginnings, should not have been such a surprise.”
“And now you sit once again, back on your old throne. When will you pick a side? When will you choose once and for all your allegiance?” The exile asks.
“I chose long ago. I chose the Force, as it chose me from the time I was a young boy. And once again, as before I fell to temptation. My path is clear. No amount of mind erasing can prevent me from resuming this path. I have regained everything of my former, true self.”
“Yet there are so many others who chose you Revan. Do you not think of them in the slightest now?” The exile questions.
“There was a time when I loved, yes. But love is pain. Love is crippling, even more so than a flesh wound. I have no more use for affections or friendships.”

“You left yourself open for attack to me on that day, do you remember?” The clear voice of Bastila Shan echoes from a cloaked figure, now stepping into Revan’s view from behind the Exile. She raises her hood to reveal her familiar face.
The dark lord appears unfazed. A small twitch of his mouth reveals the conflict in his heart.
“So, this is your weapon against me. Your hidden blade,” Revan addresses the Exile.
“We’re only here to help,” resounds the voice of Carth Onasi, famed Admiral of the republic. His stealth field generator deactivates as he too steps from the shadows.
“I refuse to call you Revan, my old friend. Whatever you are now, your path is one of redemption rather than darkness. You will come back into the light, my old friend.” Carth confidently states.
The sith lord rises from his throne, putting his hood back on. “How did you escape my senses?”
No one answers. “Ah, the Exile. I should have known. A gem in the rough. No one else has such Force masking abilities. It is a valuable asset,” Revan surmises.
Bastila retorts, “Like my battle meditation?”
“Even more so. The only feasible counter to one so immersed in the Force like me, is a Force wound like yourself, Exile,” the dark lord speaks without a trace of emotion.
Bastila implores, “The three of us didn’t come to fight you, my love. Please, remember the very reasons you left us for. Remember who you’re protecting and who you’re fighting against!”
“I have neither allies nor enemies. Only obstacles…to power.” The dark lord draws his lightsaber slowly, and deliberately with his right hand.
“No! We can’t fight! This is insane! You can’t be serious! After everything we’ve gone through, all the sacrifices we’ve made for the Republic! Please, old friend, I beg you to remember our past! Remember all the hardships we endured and triumphed over because of one another! ” Carth approaches Revan’s throne, the Exile at his back.
“He can’t be redeemed. Not so long as he holds this much power,” The exile concludes.
“We won’t draw our weapons, my love. I leave myself completely open to you. Strike me down if you feel you must,” Bastila smiles, tears flowing down her cheeks as she closes her eyes.
Revan clenches his jaw. He raises his left hand, forming a fist.
A shriek sounds from the surprised Bastila as she gasps for air, her hands reaching up to her throat instinctively even as her feet leave the ground.
“Bastila! No!” Carth hurries to her side, as the Exile carefully observes Revan’s slow march down the stone steps.
“You…you monster! Let her go this instant! Please! She, she came for you, why, how…how can you do this to her?!” Carth’s face reveals far more agony and torment than anger.

Bastila drops down to the ground with a sickening thud. She does not move.
“God! This…this can’t be happening! After all the betrayals I’ve seen with my own eyes…this one must be the most heartbreaking of them all. It’s true then, the dark lord is reborn, isn’t he Revan?” Carth asks with fresh anguish in his voice.
“I refused to listen to the rumors, to even common sense. I came because I guess I needed to see for myself. You were my most trusted friend. And far more than a loyal comrade. But you have nothing of your old self left,” the seasoned soldier in Carth determines.
I guess this is it old friend. I…this is for you, Bastila.” Carth draws his old and trusted blaster, having survived since the battle for Telos decades past.
Revan raises an eyebrow and stands perfectly still. Carth takes careful aim and hesitates, then pulls the trigger once. In a flash, Revan moves his right arm to deflect the blaster bolt with impeccable precision, redirecting the shot to land on Carth’s thigh.
Carth flinches but continues to pull on the trigger. Shot after shot is deflected as two, then three more bolts hit his body. Revan approaches as Carth crumbles down to one knee. His head lowered, he grunts in pain before raising it defiantly: “Finish me, Revan.”
Revan raises his lightsaber over Carth’s shoulder, its red glint accentuating his crimson pupils. He hesitates for a moment. Then out of nowhere-
A flash of green: the exile’s lightsaber cuts through the air, stopped mere inches from Revan’s head by his red blade.
The air crackles as their blades clash against each other. In the dark night both faces shine with one another’s lightsaber hue.
Revan takes the offensive. With both hands he swerves his blade to the side, deflecting the Exile’s saber sideways. He takes advantage of the fazed Exile, drawing on his force power to push her away.
The exile opens her palm and saves herself at the last second, using a technique known to few Jedi.
“Ah, I see you’ve traveled with Darth Traya,” Revan surmises.

“Your friend Carth is right, Revan. Your path is not one of darkness. But you must be persuaded to come out of the dark,” the Exile retorts.
“Only the victor shall know for certain. Woe to the vanquished!” Revan shouts as the two resume the dance of lightsabers.
Carth regains consciousness while the two continue to duel. He clenches his teeth, as though preparing for a final act.
The two duelists attempt to force push each other, resulting in a backlash for both. Revan begins to gloat as the two circle one another: “I can feel your energy draining away. Can you feel me getting any weaker? Or can you feel me growing even stronger? Such is only a taste of the power of the dark side. I fear you may have learned this terrible truth far too late, foolish Jedi…”
He raises his left hand: force lightning thunders from his fingertips right at the Exile. With her lightsaber she expertly absorbs the energy, but cannot prevent some from escaping onto her body. Soon her clothes begin to smoke as Revan continues his assault.

Revan briefly pauses: “Tell me when you’ve had enough. As I said, your force masking ability is only a fraction of its true potential. I sense Darth Traya’s old teachings, but I can make you so much…more. Join me, and the galaxy-Ugh!”
A blaster bolt stings the dark lord’s back like a bee sting. Carth fumbles with the grip of his blaster, as he struggles to stand up. The Exile, momentarily stunned, collapses down onto her knee with fatigue.
Revan’s mouth once again clenches. He slowly approaches Carth, deflecting easily the sparse, clumsy blaster bolts coming his way. Carth lowers his head, his energy all but drained.
“Dust…to dust.” Revan slowly lifts Carth up to standing position. Then with one stroke he slices into his chest. A soft moan escapes from Carth as his pupils fade.
“Goodbye my old comrade,” Revan slowly utters. He deactivates his lightsaber as he gently sets him down.

A ghastly beam of light emanates from the Exile, curvaceous and alluring. It is the color of lava, a yellowish-orange stream lighting up the night. She is standing upright, her right arm raised up to the sky with an open palm as she concentrates on her unique Force drain ability. Her entire body seems to be in concentration of this one feat, as the stream of light paralyzes Revan and she denies him his very connection to the Force.
Revan struggles with agony as the source of his power is taken from him. He blasts the Exile with more force lightning, though she holds her position. Soon, his lightning becomes weak and feeble, before disappearing altogether. He struggles to stand as his life force is drained. He manages a blood curling scream of desperate rage before losing unconsciousness.
The Exile stops her Force drain. She groans with the weight of the galaxy’s most potent evil inside of her. She struggles to stand upright as her Jedi robe continues to smoke.
The former dark lord crumbles onto the barren earth, all but dead. His old lightsaber rolls toward the Exile, who picks it up reverently.
She limps to Bastila, laying her flat on her back. Bastila’s eyes flutter briefly.
“Rest now, conserve your strength,” The Exile sooths her.

Chapter 2-The gift of life

Bastila suddenly wakes up aboard the engine room of the Ebon Hawk. The Exile, sitting by her side, turns from the nearby computer terminal to observe her.
“I…I’m still alive,” Bastila wonders incredulously.
“No small feat, I can tell you that,” the Exile lightly comments.
“Indeed, at what price does my life come, my friend?” Bastila asks, guilt in her voice.
“Do you remember anything that happened?” the Exile deflects.
“Well I can only surmise, that you defeated…the dark lord,” Bastila reasons.
“And I sense that Carth is no longer with us. Ah…I’m sorry, I just…can’t believe it had to come to this,” Bastila attempts to stifle her sobs with little success.
“I’ve gone through devastating loss too. Please, don’t hesitate to show your grief,” the Exile consoles.

Minutes, then an hour passes in silence and thought. Then Bastila asks, “Is he still alive?”
“That all depends, Bastila. His life is now completely in our hands,” the Exile explains.
“He won’t survive without the Force. That is a loss only I’ve managed to endure,” the Exile concludes.
“What…really happened during your duel with him?” Bastila begins to question.
“I drained Revan of his connection to the Force. A power learned from an old master,” the Exile offers.
“The Force wound power, yes I’ve heard of it. But…that would mean both Carth and I would have been affected by its power,” Bastila reasons.
“True, I came close to killing you in effect, Bastila,” the Exile notes.
“But in the end, Revan’s incredible power occupied the bulk of my Force wound. I drained little from you and from Carth, well there wasn’t much if any left,” the Exile recalls.
“So…you chose to save me over Carth,” Bastila laments.
“Well Revan did put a lightsaber through his chest, the odds of his survival plunged drastically after that,” the Exile jokes.
Bastila is visibly affected. “Oh, how could he…how could he have fallen so far from the light? I…I, maybe it’s true. Maybe…he cannot be redeemed after all. Maybe he’ll simply relapse back into the darkness again and again.”
“I think what you said about him was true from a certain point of view. Your sacrifice, and that of Carth’s, were more than simple delay tactics. The human side of him must have rebelled, even for a slight moment, to weaken his power,” the Exile reasons.
“I…I loved him you know. I loved him from as far back as I can remember knowing him. He was already a broken Darth Revan, but he became the most valorous of Jedi knights. He proved his mastery of the light side by redeeming me from the darkness.” Bastila closes her eyes to reminisce, fresh tears trailing down her cheeks.
“How, then. How can I accept these crimes, these betrayals of the cruelest malice?” Bastila pleads for an answer.
“You can do as you have done before. Erase his mind, recreate his identity,” the Exile offers.
“What…what if this vicious cycle simply repeats?” Bastila speaks with hope in her voice.

“He must never know. The mind wipe must be complete and thorough. You must give no hint of his former identity,” the Exile concludes.
“I don’t know anymore. I don’t know whether he deserves to live or not,” Bastila says with bitterness.
“You’ll be in effect killing Darth Revan. For Revan is a sith, and the sith are only a belief,” the Exile continues, sensing Bastila’s acceptance of her proposal.
“For what it’s worth Bastila, Revan’s destiny has always been a great and cruel one. He never chose to be so connected to the Force. Who knows what was going through his mind as he confronted the true sith and reneged against everything he cared about? It is said the Sith have terrible tortures to inflict upon the mind. One cannot blame this terrible tragedy on him alone,” the Exile soothes Bastila.
“I…perhaps you’re right. Please, forgive me for not thanking you properly my friend, but I must reflect upon these events alone for a while,” Bastila concludes. The Exile nods, heading back to the cockpit.
The Ebon Hawk shoots through hyperspace and for hours, then days drifts back into known space. Bastila sits alone for long periods, meditating in sorrow. She discovers Carth’s body in the med bay, and runs her hand over his face one last time. The exile observes her respectfully, occasionally examining Revan’s salvaged lightsaber.
A long time passes.
“Do you wish me to revive the Jedi formerly known as Darth Revan?” the Exile proposes.
“Yes, I do. I’ll wipe his mind soon after,” Bastila determines resolutely.
More time passes. The Ebon Hawk eventually arrives at a remote planet Bastila deems safe.
“Alright, he’s alive. Barely. What will you do with him?” the Exile asks, exhaustion in her voice.
“Please take him for now. Spend some time with him, help him to establish a new identity. Cruise the galaxy, allow him to form new memories,” Bastila says after much thought.
“Yes, you must be the one to do it. I’m far too close to him to risk a relapse at this stage, and you must teach him to live without the Force,” Bastila reasons.
“Take Admiral Onasi back to the republic and make sure he is buried with full honors. For now I must rest and hide, I fear I would only be a liability to those around me in battle. I…I’ve lost so much that my fighting spirit, is no more…In a few years’ time, when you feel our reborn friend is finally ready, come to visit me here. I shall take him and help him back toward the path of the light,” Bastila concludes.
“Ugh, I’m not going to relish teaching him to speak Basic. Much less the proper function of a hyperspace drive,” the Exile jokes.
“He’s a quick learner. Possibly too quick for his own good, I imagine,” Bastila calmly recalls.

“Babysitting a former Sith Lord isn’t what I had planned for the next few years, but I suppose if one has the chance to save the galaxy, one musn’t refuse no matter how ridiculous the task,” the Exile smirks.
Bastila smiles and looks into the distance.
“Remember what I said, Bastila. You musn’t tell him who he was. No hint whatsoever. His mind is like some sort of hyper resistant data disk. These memories will somehow always be somewhere inside of him. Don’t give in to any temptations.”
“Good luck, Exile. You are a far wiser Jedi than I shall ever be, and now, you as the last of the Jedi must carry the burden I could not,” Bastila bids farewell as she slowly steps out of the port hatch of the Ebon Hawk and onto earthy ground.
She watches the ship rise back into the sky, soon disappearing like a shooting star, to a place far, far away.

Chapter 3-Revan freed

Sixty years later
A woman near her departure from the physical world speaks to her most trusted friend and husband, a former smuggler who has spent the last fifty years helping her to obtain basic food and medical supplies for the community she has helped to thrive on the remote planet. The two are lovers and have raised a son and granddaughter. Her past as a Jedi is known to no one else but her husband, thus enabling her to survive the turmoil that had engulfed the rest of the galaxy.
The woman in tan robes laments her granddaughter’s fate to her husband.

How could I tell her? In what way could I have made her understand?
That she was born into the simple world of her father, yet his life of peace and reflection was never to be within her grasp?
She is destined to choose. As the Force has chosen her. A life of conflict and consequence awaits her beyond these stars.
She will be forced to choose a side, as her father’s father did before so long ago.
She is my grandchild, yes. But she is no longer mine to nurture and lecture. She will have grown into a woman soon, a galaxy of possibilities revealed to her in due time.
I couldn’t tell her. Inevitably she will find out for herself; find out who she is, the legacy she has inherited. I…after all these years spent hiding, spent meditating, I’ve come to the conclusion that I am in the end, the person most responsible for her fate.

I, who wore a serene Jedi’s robes but held a fearless knight’s blade, who preached mediation but embraced temptation, who loved a lifetime’s worth in a few years’ time…I am a hypocrite. My hypocrisy would have heralded the end of the Republic and free will in the galaxy were it not for the miracle of redemption.
Perhaps that is the nature of the force. Perhaps the Force is only another word for fate. We cannot fight it, nor our own destinies. Revan, the most powerful being in the galaxy, knew this in the end, I am sure.
He was pure valor and pure evil, both conqueror and savior. He doomed the galaxy, and then saved it. Yet, could he have lived the life of a master, Jedi or Sith? Could he have been content to teach others one side of the force while blinding others to its opposite?
No. The Force itself is conflict everlasting, and Revan was a warrior. He could never have ignored it, no more than a fish can swim against the current. Few understood Revan’s bond with the force meant too a deeper connection to its will.
The will of the Force…in the end he was its slave. Or perhaps it was his destiny to be its living embodiment?
I loved him more than myself, and still do. For beneath his knight’s armor resided a simple heart capable of leading anyone, Sith or Jedi, into battle and come out unscathed. I would have laid down my life swiftly and gladly for him. And he for me.
For the few years I spent with him were among the most passionate years of my long life. The Jedi are forbidden from passion, yet the ancient wisdom of the elders could never have rivaled such a joyous fulfillment as our love for one another. It is something I cannot regret no matter what consequences came.
But in the end, he could not resist the call of the Force. He finally saw past the illusion of choice. And so he departed, to protect me, he said. To protect the Republic.
I had fought by his side for so long and seen countless victories and triumphs, endured indescribable tortures and hardships. But in that moment I felt my heart begin to break.
For he had chosen his destiny, the Force, over me.

My greatest act was not in stopping Darth Revan. I had simply helped to defeat a powerful but wounded adversary. Nor was there any glory in turning from Malak’s teachings. Revan swayed me by his force of character and love alone.
No, my redemption was our son, who lived the life I had in youth rejected, and now in old age revere. The life of the middle ground that the Jedi espoused but fate cruelly denied. A life of peace and indifference to both valor and power, in avoidance of greatness and destiny.
Here at least, my son found love and kept it. Here at least he had no need of power, no desire that temptation could take advantage of, no acquaintance with tragedy or betrayal. A simple life serene as the thousand fountains of the old Jedi Academy. A life I had longed for with Revan.
I fear for the path my granddaughter is destined to walk, to follow the path of a Jedi as Revan did. I see in her the simple valor of her grandfather; the fierce determination of her will that echoes his actions; the same flesh and blood so in full mastery of the Force as Revan.
If the Force is a great river, then we weak beings are powerless in its stream, powerless to control our own directions. Let others take up the mantle as defenders of the republic. Let others rise and fall as countless Jedi have done, as I and Revan have; let my descendants live away from this turmoil, away from the Force that enlightens and corrupts at the same time.

I…I have had these thoughts stored in my mind for so long, they seem to have forced themselves out of me. Please forgive me for today’s unusually long monologue. I know, since you’ve known me I have loved to lecture and reminisce with you. But I hadn’t gathered the courage to talk to you about all of these events up until now, about these feeling, these hopes and visions.
My old friend, my dear husband, you’ve been with me for so long, given me such faith and understanding. Done so much for our small settlement. Shown us simple compassion. Yet you’ve been without knowledge of your true identity for just as long. It’s enough to say that you have changed irrevocably now.
To say that I knew you in another life, is no exaggeration indeed. I recognized you from the moment you landed, or should I say crashed onto our remote planet. But of course you were no longer the same man I had taught, fought, and loved. I found you in the wreck, so very different from the knight I had loved.
For I had ensured this terrible, utter destruction of your old self decades ago. You were no longer adept in the Force as you once were, reduced only to a small sense of it. Yet nothing of your heart changed. And so I fell easily again, into love whose absence had become so unbearable previously.

Revan…I’ve feared for decades to call you by that name. And yet…you would not recognize it. That is for the good of yourself, and the galaxy. That neither Darth Revan nor the Jedi Revan return, is something I shall sacrifice even the passion of our former life together for. That you’ve lived with me for so long without leaving for your old mantle, is proof of your new identity.
My love, I’ve wronged you so! I’ve swayed you from your destiny, cruel and great though it would have made you, and denied you your rightful glory in the history of the galaxy.
These years I’ve spent with you…may not have been so passionate as the years of our battles against the Sith. But I rejoice nonetheless. I was given the chance to live with you, to learn alongside you in the life unattainable by Sith, Jedi, Mandalorian or Republic citizen.

And now, as we feel the coming of the last of our days in this world, I tell you this. I tell you of your grand destiny and your pitiful fate. I tell you of your vast potential and your unquestioning servitude.
I tell you that I crippled you, denied you greatness and power, because I loved you so. I tell you that I may have doomed the galaxy to a Sith invasion only you could have stopped. And yet I would do it again and again.
I tell you that our son was far more blessed without the Force. I tell you that together we swayed him from the path so destined for the child of two Jedi.
I tell you all of this, and yet do not beg forgiveness. I would have made the same choice again. You were no longer the same man I had fallen in love with during the war against Malak. For a second time, I had helped to erase your identity. Yet this time, we had found a peace that could shelter us from the storm of war.

I refused everything that could have triggered a relapse of your old identity. Even my utmost affection for you, I took great and painful precautions to hide. But I think you knew my feelings for you instinctively and I felt them reciprocated.
My old friend, my protector, my love. I will never call you Revan again. You are to me, no more or less than a loving husband. And together we shall join the Force as all living beings must in the end.
Who can say what the future holds? I certainly cannot. Perhaps our granddaughter will learn for herself the hardships of the Jedi way. Perhaps she must. In due time, her destiny will be different from her father’s, of this I am sure.
I only hope for her, that she might take from our lessons learned by fire and tribulation: to be wary of power that lives with purpose, to embrace the love that shall bring forth pain.


A soft, deep voice speaks slowly with affection,
“Bastila…I remembered long ago my life as Revan. I am so thankful…that you redeemed me for a last time, offered me the chance to give back some of all I had taken from this galaxy…Our life together is the only worthy life I’ve lived…”

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