Thread: [Fic] Pawn Endgame
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Old 12-30-2010, 02:42 AM   #8
Emalin's Avatar
Join Date: Dec 2006
Location: Deep space
Posts: 169
Contest winner - Fan Fiction 
Part III: Atton

The dark side rushes to me from every corner of the Academy, like it's the light and I'm the black hole. It pours into me as I fight, fueling me, consuming me. Every slash of my saber fills me with a hot, vicious joy I've never felt before.

With this kind of power on my side, there's no way you'll defeat me.


He was sitting in the pilot's chair, head in his hands, shoulders slumped in defeat.

His mind swam with memories he would never have. Memories that at one time he thought he
could have. He'd nurtured them back then, holding them close like tiny flames, both to shield them from prying eyes and to warm himself when the ship got cold. They'd flitted through his dreams during the night cycle, peeping out from among the usual images of violence and horror, like lights in the darkness.

A shy touch.

A skipped heartbeat.

A shared breath. . . .

Then they went out, every single one of them. And he was left alone in the cruel, cold dark.

Gritting his teeth, he grabbed his hair and twisted it just to feel the pain.
Switch the face of the plus two/minus two card, the totals are nineteen/twenty.

What had gone wrong? 'Cause it had been there once. He knew it.

Flip for five, totals are twenty-four/twenty.

Even now he could see the looks she'd given him in unguarded moments, the smiles that made him croak if he tried to speak. He could hear the sound of her laughter and the way her voice melted into something low and sensual when they talked alone in the cockpit. He could feel the warmth of her gaze, the electricity of her touch.

Or had he been fooling himself the whole time?

No minus card. He went chill.

What if . . . what if it was all lies?

Lose round. . . .

. . . Lose game.


He watched them from the corridor, breathing quietly, his mind tucked away behind its mental walls.

They had no idea he was watching them, of course. They were sitting on the floor with their eyes shut, too deep in meditation to notice him. He resisted the impulse to chuckle out loud. Had he still been in the assassin business, they would've been sitting tachs right now, the kid especially.

Atton curled his lip in disgust as he raked his eyes over the blond figure next to Rae. Swept-back hair, cherubic features, plain attire. What did she see in the kid that made her spend so much flamin' time with him? He was a pansy, so naïve it was sickening.

Yet, there they were. Sitting so close that their knees touched. It was like a punch in the gut. Or a cruel joke. Maybe they’d been laughing at him behind his back all along.

No, he thought darkly. This was no joke.

He'd seen how the kid's eyes brightened when he looked at her.

He'd seen how she led him on with warm smiles and easy laughter.

He'd seen it many times, and each time he'd felt himself burning as the world around him turned red.


In the end, it was the Witch, of all people, who helped him see the truth.

"No game of dejarik can be won without pawns." That's what she'd said the day she broke into his mind. And that's what she said not long after Pretty Boy came on board. "Do not think I will release you now that she has one of her own to help her. Our game of dejarik is not yet over, and you have not lost your uses."

Though Atton would never admit it to her, that was the moment the first piece of the puzzle clicked into place.

Uses. Of course. That was the only reason he was here. He was a pawn, and not just to Kreia but to the Exile.


The smiles, the looks, the rounds of pazaak—all of it had been nothing more than a ruse. Bait on the hook. And he'd fallen for it like a two-cred fool. He'd bared his heart to her, telling her things he'd never told anyone else, and she'd used it against him. She'd manipulated him into becoming one of them!


After all, what was her own game of dejarik if not a righteous quest to resurrect the Jedi Order? Hunting down the old masters, the ones who'd hidden like cowards while the rest of the galaxy burned. Telling all the little tag-alongs hanging onto her coat sleeves to become good little Jedi servants. Oh, he could see it all now. He could see through every subterfuge, every lie.

She'd never really cared for him. She was no different than Kreia, no different than the rest of them.


With that revelation, his last shining idol toppled and shattered. Shattered into a thousand tiny pieces, and his heart with it. The galaxy was nothing but darkness again . . . darkness, and hollowness, and coldness . . . until the ashes of an old hatred caught fire.

Then the galaxy wasn't so dark and cold anymore.

Last edited by Emalin; 01-03-2011 at 03:14 AM.
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