What Comes to Pass

1. Obedience


He could scarcely believe that the old witch was dead, he only regretted not being able to be there to see it.

Atton Rand stood, his hands clenched tightly into fists of anticipation and exhilaration as he stared at Alaia, whose dark eyes were narrowed into a questioning gaze that she need not express. He could feel it after all, the emotions pulsed outwards from her as strongly as the heartbeat that hammered against the hollow of his chest. From the moment that she had broken him down, fed him to the force which swallowed him whole and spat him out as the tenacious beast that he now was, they had been connected. All of them were, himself, Mira, Visas…. Mical. All of them, yet, it was with her, his teacher, his leader, his conformation of lust and respect, that he felt bonded to so strongly. Right then, at her apex of power, he wanted her more then he ever had before.

And she felt the same.

“I came here alone, Atton. I did that for a reason,” She said, the harshness of her voice echoed through the gloom of the massive chamber in which they stood. Around them, the green haze shifted upwards, swirling and wavered even though no breath of wind could be felt on his skin. The jagged terrain of Malacor V could not outdo the asperity of Alaia, nor could it be just as alluring, and despite the bitterness which still echoed through the expansive domed chamber, he stepped out onto the platform, thick soled boots smacking loudly against the smoothed stone.

The emotions from Alaia wavered, something unsettling surged through the air, but her visage remained as firm as ever; lips pressed tightly together in an angry grimace, eyes narrowed, and dark brow furrowed. To him, she never looked cruel or threatening. She was always beautiful, with her dark hair pulled back, short bangs framing her well sculpted features, and a single braid that was always untucked from behind her ear. Even now as the dark side marked her eyes with flecks of gold, and darkened veins forked across her smooth pale skin, she was perfect to him. To Atton Rand, whose love mingled in with obsession, nothing about her was amiss.

“You don’t always have to be alone,” He whispered.

This caught Alaia off guard, and for a moment she fumbled with her words. To her everything, even isolation felt certain. If anything, it was surviving on her own that was a constant. Sure, she had received help along the, but in the end she had chosen to fight Kreia on her own. She had relinquished all help, yet unlike it had before, those who had aided her were returning and all she could do was will her tongue to form the words that felt like some pathetic excuse for a response. “I told you not to come.”

“Right, and when had I ever listened?” He asked, opening his hands to show her the flat of his palms as he innocently out stretched him arms. “I told you I’d find my way here – I’m not as incompetent as the rest of you might think. I even beat Blondie.”

“Mical’s coming to?” She asked, arms folding across her chest as Atton made his way slowly across the platform to her. A scowl momentarily clouded his features at the thought of Mical, before his usual arrogance lined his features, that familiar smirk itching at his lips.

“That a problem?” He asked, stopping in front of her.

“When a person says they can 'handle it all on their own' it can be when people start showing up. Unwelcomed,” She muttered, tiny hands bawling into fists as she pushed him out of the way to storm past. Atton, however, was having none of that and gripped her firmly by the upper-arms and tugged her back in front of him. A fierce ache suddenly settled itself behind his eyes, an ache that could only be eased by bringing his fantasies into a reality. She’d been toying with him far too long, and Atton Rand wanted to fulfill his desires right then and there. He didn’t care if Kreia’s body lay rotting just beneath him in the depths of Malacore, nor did he care if this place gave Alaia grief. He just cared about servicing the needs which had been put behind everyone else’s for so long. He had earned this.

“Let go of me!” Alaia snapped, struggling against his grasp. However, that lecherous glint was behind her eyes, and the libidinous feelings that emanated from her told him his frankness excited her. She wanted his roughness, the foolhardiness which drove him to grasp her chin and mash his lips against her’s into a kiss that tore straight down his body, past his lips, chest, stomach, and straight to his groin. A low growl rolled up from his within his body, igniting the insanity, the same insanity which had taken him when he had killed that Jedi who he had so dearly loved. Now, he loved Alaia, however, he would not kill her, for this time he was prepared. Ready to step up and be whatever he had to be, do whatever he had to, to appease the woman who had set him free. Forever.

With his tongue thrust outwards to brush against her’s in that insistent, desperate way, Atton felt a tingling at the base of his groin as he was enticed into arousal. Alaia’s hands were at his robe, tugging and pulling at the stubborn cloth until it came free and was tossed into a direction that absolutely trivial to the pair who were now clutching and kissing and panting, getting to know each other’s bodies which, for the most part, were still clad in the heavy material of the Dark Jedi robes. Atton’s body had become much more well-toned then it had been back when he was still on Perogus, the muscles were much more defined, nicely sculpted and fluttered lightly beneath Alaia’s hand as her finger tips teased his abdomen. She kissed and nipped the tender flesh of his neck, her lips murmuring sweet promises of what she would do to him.

“Alaia.”

Atton’s eyes fluttered open at the intrusion and a grimace etched across his features in annoyance as his mind registered whose accented voice had sounded, and as it did so, he felt every good, illustrious feeling melt away as Alaia turned from him. Her hands suddenly fell away from his body, and the mood shifted from hot sexuality to a comforting propensity. He, Mical, always seemed to unthaw the chill that made her so captivating. She was so well-practiced at swapping one role for another that it appeared as though Alaia had never intended on making love with the Ebon Hawk’s pilot. It were almost as though they were about to play a simple game of pazaak, the interruption meant nothing, and she fluttered delicately to the blond man’s side. Kissing his cheek she then smiled up at him, greeting the man as simply as she always had.

All the while Atton stood there, hating the bastard with every fiber of his being, his hand gripping his saber with the sole intent to kill…. But Alaia would never approve.

“I was worried about you, you left without saying good-bye…. Or any indication-” Mical spoke, his eyes fixed on the brooding form of Atton who stood in the center of the platform, half-naked and eyes narrowed into angry slits of dark fire which danced with a baneful fury.

“Shh….” Alaia hushed, her finger tip pressing lightly against the young man’s lips. “I am well, no need to be so anxious.”

At that, she pecked his lips and smiled up at him sweetly, the role of fiery vixen now forgotten. Pulling his blue gaze from Atton, he smiled warmly down Alaia. She then took his by the arm, and led him away from the platform, taking him up to the academy, though, not before passing Atton seductive smile which momentarily cooled the blind fury; it was never Alaia’s fault, only Mical’s. It was he who always stole her away, and for that Atton hated him. As he reached down to grab the once forgotten article of clothing, he cursed and tugged it violently over his shoulders and back into place. He damned that stupid little Mical and his stupid words and his stupid charm.

He hated the bastard, but could only be comforted by the promise that he and Mical were headed down a road of destruction that could have one single bloody outcome….



“I’ve never, I’ve never heard anything about it before. Not in any of the texts or-”

“It was Traya’s, she passed it on to me so that I could train more Jedi who could help aid Revan,” Alaia said, walking beside Mical who gazed curiously about the academy. She loved the fascination he never seemed to lack, and it excited her so that he was as enthralled as he was with the academy, his wonder was always constant and his yearning for knowledge never ceased.

“Kreia you mean?”

“Yes.”

“So you killed her then,” He asked, their pace abruptly slowing as he turned to face her. Suddenly Alaia felt an odd sting in her heart as she glanced up at his disappointed stare. She didn’t like the way his eyes bore into her’s with that sadness. It made her regret so many, many things. She wanted to lie, tell him no, tell him that she had saved her mentor, helped the woman see the path of the light. However, it wasn’t so.

“I did.”

Mical was silent for a while, and his hand came to rest upon the her’s which clutched his arm firmly. Tracing his fingers across the smooth knuckles he let out a sigh. “Do you suppose it is best that she is gone.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Please, Mical,” She whispered, the pain in her voice evident as her grip on his arm tightened. Alaia never wanted to regret the decisions she made. Not now, not ever; she couldn’t take them back, therefore she never wanted to look back upon them and see them as wrong, whereas Mical wished to learn from the mistakes made.

Bringing their stride to a full halt Mical then turned to her. “I’m just trying to understand you, Alaia.”

“Sometimes it’s just best to leave some people a mystery,” She muttered, her dark eyes meeting his pale blue, a slight smile tugging up at the corners of her lips for a moment before she leaned forward to once again kiss the far taller man. This time, however, the kiss was far more insistent and passionate then the previous. Lips parted and both felt the burn of eroticism sparking anew. There was something so sexually appealing about the younger man that Alaia could not truly comprehend. While she enjoyed the acerbity of Atton, there was something equally appealing about the calm reticence of Mical. Where Atton was fast and insistent, Mical took his time and got to know every inch of her before moving on. She loved the way his tongue explored her’s, and the way his hands traveled up and down her back before grasping the firmness of her buttocks. His phlegmatic movements caused her to anticipate what was going to happen next, thus he was rewarded with low moans and excited gasps.


For a long while Mical and Alaia stood, pawing at taut muscle which lay hidden beneath the heated material of their robes. Every so often a playful giggle would emit from Alaia, who buried her face in his neck, nipping the soft skin there sharply before trailing butterfly kisses up to his cheek and to his lips. Smiling, Alaia then pulled back and away to undo her robe and let it fall to the floor, followed by what remained of her clothing until she was left standing before him, utterly exposed to Mical’s wanton gaze. Warmth spread up from his groin and through his body as he felt his arousal grow at the sight of her luscious creamy body. The curves of her full breasts were enticing, as was the triangled patch of dark hair between her legs. Alaia had the body of a woman who had seen much war time and had the scars to prove it, though this did not make her any less ravishing, in fact it seemed to add to her sexuality.

“Alaia…. We can’t possibly, Atton….”

“If he sees it should not matter, he knows I care deeply for you as well.”

At that, Mical seemed to redden. Yet, regardless of whatever discomforted feelings he may have had, they were ignored as he brought Alaia against him. It didn’t take long for them both to strip him of his clothes, after awhile, Mical forgot about Atton who was pushed to the farthest reaches of his mind. Alaia filled every one of his senses, every caress, every kiss, made him forget about the dark haired man whom he competed with non-stop for the duration of the mission, and continued to do so now. Even he, Mical, had to admit to a sense of victory as he pushed Alaia flat against the smoothed academy wall, placing his hips between her legs to slide himself deeply into the smooth, heated wetness of her body.

It had been a long time since the once-exile had felt a man between legs and let out a lusty groan. Thrusting her hips against his, they set up a steady pace that was neither too fast nor too slow. She and Mical took their time getting to know each other; Alaia tracing her fingertips across the hardened planes of his body, while Mical kissed and caressed the fullness of her curves. His groans were low, muffled as he bit down gently into the flesh of her neck his pace beginning to quicken. Alaia’s sharp hisses and cries for more only urged him on, and before long sweat coated their bodies in a light sheen as they suddenly seemed to move in synch with each other. Pleasure mounted, and Mical wrapped his arms tightly around Alaia’s slender body, holding her in place as he pumped into her far more intently they he had earlier.

Several sharp thrusts later, she came, her head thrown back in a wild scream that caused her body to convulse around Mical, milking his member of his seed as he came loudly as well, burying himself to the hilt. For a long while they stood in the hall of the academy, Alaia enjoying the warmth of Mical’s seed which still heated her insides, and his breathing which continued to come in rapid pants. It wasn’t until she kissed his forehead that she realized how suddenly drained she was. It had been a long whlie since she had slept. Or ate. Or relaxed in generally.

Allowing him to ease out of her, Alaia then reached down to reacquired her clothes which she had dropped not far from where they had made-love. She still felt the jitters of excitement on her skin, even as they dressed in complete silence. Once both had become somewhat presentable, she then wrapped her arm about his waist to rest her head on his shoulder. “I want you to come to bed with me tonight.”

“Alright.” Mical said, kissing the top of her dark head.

“That wasn’t a request,” She said with a slight laugh before pushing him away and striding forward out of his reach.


Mical merely smiled and followed obediently.




Out of sight, Atton stood seething; it should have been him with Alaia, not Mical.

He had watched as that bastard had fucked Alaia, HIS Alaia. He’d seen it all, and as he had looked on he wanted to tear Mical apart – Beginning with that part of the male anatomy that any man would surely miss. Biting down hard onto his cheek he then collapsed against the wall, utterly frustrated and exhausted. How was it possibly so difficult to get enough time alone with Alaia to make her forget about Mical? Nearly ten full beats of silence passed before Atton then slammed his fist against the wall out of rage and stormed off in the opposite direction Alaia and Mical, sick with his own jealousy.