Revered and Reviled

"Come in."
The door unlocked, allowing Malak to enter Revan's chamber.
"Why is the door locked, Revan?"
Revan was still wearing her mask. She stood, walked over to the window. "Things must change, Malak. We have mastered the Star Forge. We are Sith, now. We can no longer remain as we are."
"What?"
The Dark Side is not a simple fall. It is never a single choice. It is always a series of small choices, little things, that build up until you can no longer take the choice of walking any other path seriously. The final step perhaps, manifests as some outburst of anger or evil. But that outburst is never the first step. No one ever wakes up one day and decides to turn to the Dark Side.
"There are always two, Malak. A Master and an apprentice."
"I know that," Malak said impatiently. "What does that have to do with us?"
Revan turned, removed the mask, and looked at Malak, her eyebrow raised slightly. It is always the little things. Little bits of self-indulgence. Little lies of omission. Not warning a trusted friend about the true dangers of a dangerous artifact - neglecting to mention the incredible amount of control that it requires, knowing that he would be tempted to try and use himself someday. Letting your lover think that he has successfully deceived you with another woman - hiding your jealousy day after day, hoping against hope that something would change despite your inaction.
"Well, Malak, surely you plan to take an apprentice of your own? I wouldn't begrudge you."
"What?" Malak still didn't understand.
"The Sith methods of training are rather different from those of the Jedi, you do realize that? The connection is much closer, much more ... deep. Surely you understand, Malak?"
What is torture? It is nothing more than emotional manipulation. Causing someone pain to achieve your desired result. Enjoying that pain? That is something different entirely.
Malak stared at her, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. "You mean... you and I..."
She sighed, gently and calmly. All a lie. Her heart was pounding in her chest, hoping but unwilling to believe that it would work. "Even if I were strong enough to keep up two bonds as powerful as that, I would not want to." She shook her head. "I am not comfortable with so much intimacy, Malak. You know that. It's not in my nature." Indeed, Revan mocked herself, such intimacy would make it impossible for her to tell so many outrageous lies, or to feign a weakness in the place of her greatest strength.
"So, you would give me up for power?" he asked, quietly bitter. The connection between them was closed, neither of them wanted to be open to each other right now. But she could still hear the pain in his voice, and it thrilled her.
"Wouldn't you?" she challenged. "What then, would you have me do, Malak?"
Revan would go no further. It was his place to say the words. It had to be his decision, or it meant nothing.
So many paths to the Dark Side, and yet, the destination is always the same.
Malak watched her face, but she was cold and still, and would give him no sign, no hint of what she wanted. For a moment, he stood still, his pride warring with his love and his need of her, the fear of seeing another in his place. If she had raged at him, he would have fought. If she had commanded him, he would have resisted. But against this quiet resignation, this patient finality - what could he do? What choice did he have? Malak looked down at the floor, at her tiny, perfect feet. He knelt, slowly, before her.
"Malak, do not do this unless you truly mean it," she said warningly, but her voice trembled. She couldn't help it; she wanted this, she wanted him so much.
"Master."
"If you come to me, Malak," she whispered, "it will be on my terms and by my rules. Do you understand this?"
"Yes, Master."
"If you anger me, I will punish you. I will not show you mercy just because I happen to love you."
"Yes, Master." Malak held back a smile at her admission.
She took a deep breath. She had to push him, give him one last chance to escape. "Malak, you are not being careful."
"Master, I have followed you to the edge of space and beyond. You are not a woman who inspires caution. I respected you when we were fellow students. I admired you when you led us against the Mandalorians. I have always adored you, always. You are my Master and my Lord, in the Sith and everywhere you choose to be. I need nothing more."

The fallen Jedi were always the hardest for Malak to deal with. They tried too hard to prove they were immoral, and were too afraid to truly enjoy their newfound power. They also assumed that every other Jedi felt the same way. Also, most of them had never met Malak or Revan in person, which led to quite a few interesting mishaps.
Malak was sparring with one of the new Sith, a fallen Jedi named Geele. Geele was too angry to be a very good duelist, and Malak was amusing himself. He kept Geele at arm's length, and occasionally taunted him to keep him wild and on edge.
One particularly wild blow ripped Malak's shirt before he could dodge, and Geele paused. "Did I do that?" he asked, gesturing at the mark on Malak's arm.
"You? No," Malak laughed, "I displeased my Master. That's been there for a few days."
Geele sneered. "You let your Master beat you? I'd die first."
"Probably," Malak agreed. "You wouldn't last an hour with my Master."
Their swords clashed again before Geele continued. "I would never submit to such treatment. I would never let myself be degraded that way."
Malak grinned. "So how would you let yourself be degraded?" He easily blocked Geele's blow. "You put up with sleeping in a kennel, eating vegetable scraps, and giving up everyone you ever loved. And you think I should be ashamed of a few bruises?"
Geele charged him wildly, suddenly furious with some memory.
Malak turned the attacks easily, laughing quietly to himself. "As it happens, I am quite proud of them. My Master cares enough about me to correct my mistakes, watches over me, protects me. My Master had an entire galaxy of students to choose from, and chose me, and me alone." Malak swept his blade under Geele's guard, toppling the fallen Jedi to the mat. Malak rolled up his sleeve, showing off the series of welts that Revan had left on his arm. "Your Master didn't care for you any more than he cared for any of the other students under his tutelage. You were nothing to him. Your Master sat on a rock and watched you walk away." He saw Geele shake with anger, and laughed. Malak leaned on his blade and watched Geele walk out of the training area.
"You're gloating," observed a quiet voice from behind him. Malak turned quickly, but didn't see Revan anywhere. "If you break all your toys, Malak, I'm not going to buy you any new ones."