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lonewolfel · 3 years

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Theron Appreciation Week: Day 6

Prompt: AU(Imperial Agent Theron)

teen(brainwashing, hallucinations, slavery, child abuse/child torture, death)

Characters: Theron, Kaliyo, Watcher X

@theronshanweek-official

Cipher 9 stormed onto his ship with little regard for his companions. He could hear Watcher X in the back of his head scheming and planning, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He passed Kaliyo in the corridor.

“How was Dromund Kaas?” Kaliyo asked with boredom in her voice. Cipher payed no mind to her. He stormed passed her and heard her say. “That well huh.”

Cipher entered the refresher and locked the door behind him. He removed his mask and stared at his face for the first time in a long time. Since working with the SIS, Cipher had been scared that they will realize who he is and who he is related to. There were dark bags under his green eyes. His skin was paler than usual and his brown hair was sticking to his forehead due to sweat. Over all he looked sickly in a way he hasn’t really been since he got kicked from the Jedi Order.

All Cipher could think was that no matter what you do, follow or disobey orders, the Empire will make you suffer. He remembered what it was like as a freshly captured slave. Cipher had thought that he had known pain having been trained as a Force blind Jedi, but he had been wrong. His stupidly stubborn and defiant 13 year old self hadn’t been prepared for the evilness and torture of the Sith. It felt like his master was taking him apart and putting him back together over and over again. The worst part was the cold almost gleeful sheen in her eyes as she “educated” him.

Was this what the Empire was really about?

After all Cipher had been ordered to allow the death of millions of Imperial, civilian, lives in the vain hope that the Sith will arrive to defeat Darth Jadus. Buy them time. That was what he had been told. True he didn’t follow orders, but he got the mission done with minimal casualties. That should have been enough to make the Empire happy, but it wasn’t. Now Cipher 9 was stripped of his free will and brainwashed to follow whoever had the code word no matter their intensions. All they were was bantha fodder for an Emperor who couldn’t care less about his subject.

In the mirror Watcher X appeared behind Cipher 9. He didn’t turn around not wanting to deal with the illusion, hallucination, whatever the dead man was.

“You aren’t really an Imperial though.” Watcher X said. Theron’s grip on the sink tightened. He hadn’t even realized that he had been holding it. “I know who you really are. A slave beaten into submission only to turn against his master to free himself. A broken failure from the Jedi that not even his own mother wanted. How did you think this would end. You were never free, not really.”

With a cry Cipher 9 punched the mirror. The broken shards couldn’t pierce his thick gloves though. Causing them to harmlessly fall into the sink. His chest heaved with broken breaths trying to stop himself from crying. He had thought that the tears had been beaten out of him. No doubt his crew would be concerned, but he didn’t care.

Watcher X was right. He would never be an Imperial no matter how hard he tried. Though he wasn’t a citizen of the Republic anymore. His accent vanished long ago. His memories of the Republic are distant and fuzzy little more than good dreams that a slave boy clung to in the face of beatings and pain. If the Republic knew who he was he would be executed as a traitor as soon as they got their hands on him. If the Empire knew he would be little more than blackmail to the Jedi Grand Master.

Cipher finally allowed himself to look into the shattered mirror. His image was distorted by the cracks and missing pieces. It filled him with relief. The Republic stripped him of his dreams and family. The Empire stripped him of his identity and free will. He will get back his free will. Even if it meant taking down Imperial Intelligence and the SIS. After all the SIS is the one using it. Sure the brainwashing had been placed by the Empire, but it was dormant.

Cipher 9 couldn’t care less about the Empire or Republic. They could both burn for all he cared. They are both corrupt governments that cared little about the people under them. Though those are bold words from a man that won’t leave the Empire. He is after all a broken slave, and slaves are ruled through fear.

“My name is Theron Shan son of the Jedi Grand Master Satele Shan, code names Cipher 9 and Legate.” Cipher said brokenly. Finally he allowed himself to cry. For the boy who wanted to be like his mother. For the teen that wanted his freedom. For the man that wanted to save as many lives as he could. And for the innocent people slaughtered in a pointless war over ideology.

#TheronShanWeek2021 #swtor #Star Wars The Old Republic #imperial agent #Theron Shan #kaliyo djannis #watcher x

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sullustangin · 3 years

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(stares at the ultimate angsty headcanon I could come up with for Theron Shan week)

Why am I doing this to myself?

Why am I doing this to others?

(writes it anyway)

#swtor #theron shan #theronshanweek2021 #swtor fan fiction

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ulavii · 3 years

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Theron Shan Week : Day 1 (Childhood)

Prompt : Childhood

Warnings : No warnings

Characters : Theron Shan, Ngani Zho

Words count: 523

Read on Ao3 here - Full work below

@theronshanweek-official

Theron opened his eyes. He had pins and needles in his legs, and his back started to hurt. How long has he been like that, meditating, waiting for a feeling that wasn't coming? Especially since he wasn't sure exactly what he was waiting for. Master Zho said the Force could manifest itself in different forms, that he would know once it will be there... but the child couldn't feel anything, couldn't sense. That's the word his master always used. And for the few years he had been training, Theron never sensed anything at all.

“Focus, Theron. You can't give up now.”

The young boy raised his head to try and catch the old man's eyes. But he had them closed, unifying himself with the Force. Theron knew it because of the small stones that were flying all around his master. Some days he envied him. Zho always looked so calm, so peaceful in those moments. Theron wished he could feel the same.

“I can't, Master. I don't feel the Force. It doesn't want to come. And I can't feel my legs. I don't want to lose them.”

Theron thought he caught a discreet smile on the Jedi's face, but it disappeared in an instant, and he then thought he had dreamed it. The youngling sighed. He simply couldn't stay motionless like that. He needed to move.

Master Zho had said before he was a boisterous child. That he was unable to stand still more than a few minutes. The young one didn't want to disappoint his master. But he was feeling like all of this was useless, and he wondered once again what exactly was the purpose of this exercise. He had tried, as hard as he could, to stay concentrated, but it was a wasted effort, and all of this was starting to irritate him. And like it is often the case for children of his age, all he wanted to do was to stop and go play, run, anything really that wasn't involving staying on his knees for hours.

“Can I go now, Master Zho?” he asked, hopeful.

The old man finally opened his eyes and gazed at his young apprentice. Theron shuddered. He was feeling like a disappointment. Like he wasn't trying hard enough. That it was his fault that he couldn't feel the Force. He knew he got easily distracted, all the time, but he was still trying as hard as he could, just to make Master Zho proud. But as the years passed, and despite the encouragement of the Jedi, nothing had changed. The Force just wasn't manifesting. And, sometimes, he hated himself for that.

“You have to be patient, young man. One day, you'll be able to sense the Force, within and without you. You're still young, you have a lot to learn, and you still have time.”

But behind those words, Theron knew even Master Zho had his doubts. He was maybe not attuned with the Force, but he wasn't an idiot. And, one quality he had what that he was very observant. And observing his Master told him one thing : Zho knew something wasn't right.

#TheronShanWeek2021 #Theron Shan #ngani zho #swtor #swtor fanfiction #star wars the old republic #ao3 fanfic #my works

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sharkiewrites · 3 years

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It's Not Unusual - Excerpts

Sorely needed context: I started writing this in 2016! Post-Ziost but pre-KOTFE, Theron goes to Nar Shaddaa to catch a corrupt officer. He runs into his kind-of-ex, the Imperial Agent from Tactical Disdvantage, who proceeds to play a song that may or may not be Tom Jones' 'It's Not Unusual' eight times on a jukebox to get his attention. No, I don't know what I was thinking, either.

~1600 words

@theronshanweek-official for Day 2 - Relationships

----

The sixth time the song began, a Rodian chucked a glass at Thrisc's head. He dodged it effortlessly and sauntered to the jukebox. Theron watched in fascinated horror as he inserted not one, not two, but eight tokens, jabbing the same sequence of buttons for each selection.

Then he paused by the serving droid on his way back to the bar and bought a few more tokens.

That was it. They had to speak before Thrisc got stabbed. Theron stood and drained his drink in one go - which really didn't help much due to the implant he had to regulate alcohol levels, but it probably looked cool, providing the necessary psychological boost.

A deep breath, a cursory scan of his surroundings. Theron headed for the bar in determined strides, marching past everyone else planning to confront Thrisc. The song finished again before he'd reached the other side of the room.

Thrisc wasn’t facing him, and he gave no indication that he’d noticed his presence. He tried throat-clearing. Loud coughing. An exasperated sigh. No reaction.

Theron grit his teeth and said, “Hey.”

"Well, well. Fancy running into you here," Thrisc had the audacity to purr as he turned around.

Theron’s eye twitched. He told himself it was nerve feedback from his cybernetics.

"There are better ways to get my attention," Theron said.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Thrisc said.

"I don't like this song that much."

"That's too bad, since it's going to play seven more times."

Theron leaned against the bar counter with an exaggerated sigh. “Why ruin everyone’s evening? Did the Empire declare war on fun, too?”

“It's already a bad night for anyone who's here voluntarily, the Republic declared war first, and this is fun. Besides, I was hoping -” Thrisc swiped his tongue around his lips. “To do you a favour.”

Theron realised that they were being watched.

Watched by dozens of seedy patrons with unknown loyalties, who would identify him as hailing from Republic-space if they’d been attentive enough. And he was talking to an obvious Imperial. A Chiss Imperial, at that. Crap.

"Code phrase recognised. I completed my task without incident," Theron said, switching to a clipped Kaas City accent, extra-snooty. Most of the interested parties immediately looked away. They were eavesdropping, but at least they'd assume it was standard Imperial business, not worth the trouble of disrupting. "Shall we leave?"

Thrisc raised an eyebrow. Theron liked to think he was impressed.

"I dunno, maybe we should stay and talk a while," Thrisc replied, in a thick low-level Coruscanti drawl.

What. The fuck.

Every head in close proximity whipped in their direction. Theron continued to gape; Thrisc offered nothing by way of response but an impassive expression. Most of their audience were trying to make sense of the scene unfolding. Others were approaching the bar. Dead silence seemed to descend as tension crept to a breaking point.

Until the jukebox warbled, It's not un-usu-AL to be LOVED BY ANYONE...

What happened next was a blur. Theron heard a scream of rage from the upper floor, followed by a veritable chorus of screaming, followed by an entire live Nikto being flung over the railing and crashing through a table. The cantina exploded into pandemonium. Five different sets of people started punching each other over Thrisc's song choice, although Thrisc himself wasn’t directly involved in the fighting yet.

Thrisc ducked under the Nikto’s swinging arm and pointed nearby. Still in that damn accent, he told Theron, “Your man is there.”

It took Theron longer than usual to parse this information. He was about to say something like, My man is right here and I’m going to punch him in the mouth with my mouth then possibly my fist, when he noticed the telltale flicker of an overworked disguise generator and it (thankfully, figuratively) hit him. Kalor had been there all along.

“Really?” Theron hissed. “You couldn’t have sent a message?”

“I did. Eight times!”

----

"What the hell was that?" Theron almost shouted, once they were outside.

Thrisc blinked a few times. "Your return ticket to the SIS." He grabbed Kalor by the collar and shoved him at Theron. "He's all yours."

Theron dumped Kalor onto the ground and stepped over his unconscious body.

Theron took a deep breath and tried to see it from Thrisc’s perspective. As far as he was concerned, he'd given Theron a vital present while providing excitement and a foolproof soundtrack. It may have been one of the most thoughtful things he'd ever done.

And annoyingly, it was in danger of beginning to work, for all of five seconds. Theron couldn't have that.

"So that's it for Ziost, huh?” Theron challenged. “Dump a corrupt officer at my feet because I'm too stupid to catch him myself, wait for praise and head-pats?”

Thrisc bristled, a welcome change from his earlier attitude. "I should remind you that it was your actions which complicated Ziost so badly in the first place."

"I know that!" Theron yelled. "If you’d recall correctly, I've said so several times.”

“Yet you never actually apologized.”

“It was implicit.”

“But I have to grovel aloud?”

Fuck. “It'd be a start.” Fuck.

Something flashed on Thrisc’s expression. Dismay, danger, he didn't know.

“I didn't come here to fight,” Thrisc said quietly. They heard renewed yelling and crashing from within the cantina. “I didn’t come here to fight you,” he amended.

“You should've expected it. Or did all of your planning revolve around the most convoluted, obnoxious way to capture one guy?” Theron scoffed, briefly shoving his shaking hands into the pockets of his trousers; he didn't know what to do with them otherwise. “Wouldn't be surprising, given your track record weighing the fate of the galaxy on a single person.”

“Surro is alive. Last I heard, she was doing well. It's over,” Thrisc bit out, each syllable whittling with spite. “You won.”

“It's not about winning!” That single word had superseded Theron’s irritation, opened something raw and aching and tinged with self-loathing. “Tell me why the Sith handpicked by the Emperor to enforce his will had more compassion than you. Tell me why you've been on the receiving end of torture and abuse, but you supported experimenting on a freshly traumatized woman on the off-chance we could learn more about how screwed we are.”

“Was there an actual request buried in that, or was it just a nifty way to describe how disappointing I am?” Thrisc looked Theron up and down. “You want to do this, Theron? Fine. You fought for someone who chose to be there. But did you spare a thought for everyone dead because they were on the wrong planet at the wrong time?” Thrisc stepped back further, arms spread. “How's that for a piercing moral question?”

“You don't know anything about how I felt after I left.”

“I know everything you tried to pull during the truce on Yavin IV,” Thrisc replied coldly. “I know Imperials don't really register as people to you. You could probably only bear to be with me by focusing on how I'm Chiss.”

“Okay, two of those things aren't true. Don't bring - you into this -”

“Vitiate is an immediate threat to the Empire, and outside help is clearly out of the question. So maybe you can understand why Lana and I were willing to sacrifice one duty-bound Jedi for a shot at learning more about the monster who killed billions, trillions before that.”

“Jay was Vitiate’s thrall for months," Theron pointed out. "Kira Carsen was an Emperor’s Child since she was a kid. Why haven't you suggested experimenting on them, too?”

“That's different -”

“Why? Because you know them personally? Because you’ve looked into their eyes often enough that you'd see them every time you imagined someone else dragging the scalpel? What if it’d been Niayes in Surro’s place, huh? Or Siennh? Or me?”

“Stop it, Theron,” Thrisc snarled.

“Clever, loyal Imp!” Theron shouted instead. “So eager to encourage sacrifice unless it actually hurts him!”

“Kind, sensitive Republic lackey! So protective of innocents as long as they're on his side!” Thrisc shouted back. He caught his breath in a heartbeat; in a cooler tone, he continued, “I'll apologize for not sharing your incidental idealism when you apologize for jeopardizing an entire world over your mommy issues.”

"What are you - " For a moment, Theron sputtered angrily, unable to find sufficient words to voice his disbelief. "Why the hell do you think it had anything to do with my mother?"

Stars, he wanted to bite the condescending curl off Thrisc’s lips. “You defied literally all of your superiors to secretly send a Jedi team to Ziost. You're a Force-blind from a lineage of powerful Jedi; abandoned at birth, unable to become Jedi, then forced to work with your estranged Grand Master mother. Do you expect me to believe Ziost had nothing to do with your hang-ups?”

"I can't swing a baby gizka without hitting three Force-users or a long-lost relative," Theron snapped." I sent Jedi because I thought if anyone in the Republic was equipped to deal with the potential appearance of a disembodied world-eater, it's the Jedi.”

Theron charged forward, and Thrisc actually shrank back as Theron continued:

“The next time you want to criticize me, fine, you're probably right by default, you're smarter and more experienced and more stable than me. But do me a real favor and skip the shitty analysis."

A pause stretched between them, the first one in minutes. Thrisc’s face fell into an unfamiliar expression which Theron could only assume was distraught.

"I'm sorry," Thrisc said. "That was...wrong of me, to assume. And say. And I'm not more stable or smarter than you, not most of the time. Sometimes you're even smarter than me.”

"Great." Theron laughed harshly, turning away too late to ignore how Thrisc gulped. "If you wanna dissect something, how about why I'm attracted to emotionally-constipated assholes in variations of a doomed forbidden romance? It's like I'm trying to recreate the magic of my parents."

#swtor fic #fandom: swtor #character: theron shan #character: thrisc #theronshanweek2021 #year: 2016

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blueburds-but-swtor · 3 years

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Legacy

A quick somethin’ for day 7 of Theron Shan week! @theronshanweek-official

Characters: Theron Shan; M!Sith Inquisitor (oc)

Setting: Post-Onslaught; 2 years after the defeat of Tenebrae

Rating: G

Back to the Republic. After so many years, it hardly felt like home. Odessen was the place Theron considered home in recent times, but since his husband’s defection to the Republic, the former SIS agent found himself following suit.

It was safer in the Republic than in the Eternal Alliance--which was now buddy-buddy with the Sith Empire.

After Theron and his beloved turned over a new leaf, the subject of children came up. Specifically--when would they decide to have children?

Theron never thought a lot about it. Neither of them were in much of a position to be stay-at-home fathers. But Altrethir--his husband--wanted children eventually, he knew. And when Theron gave it more consideration, so did he.

With samples of their own DNA and the assistance of a surrogate mother, their own daughter had been brought into the galaxy. She was born on Ryloth in Altrethir’s ancestor’s city of Tril. And once word reached the couple that their baby girl had been born, they rushed back to Ryloth.

Theron was, needless to say, nervous throughout the flight. His fingers drummed ceaselessly against his arm and he fidgeted more often than he typically did. Altrethir, being formerly Sith, could pick up on his uneasiness just in passing. He comforted his beloved, assuring him that all would be well--that their daughter would simply adore him.

They reached Ryloth and got to Tril as swiftly as they could. The local Twi’leks welcomed them back, as the city was tight-knit and community-driven. They honored family and tradition, even acknowledging Theron as one of their own by his marriage with Altrethir.

Altrethir handled himself fine, weaving through the small crowd of locals. Theron could hardly even hear the others speaking--his heart hammered in his ears, drowning out the noise. He clutched Altrethir’s arm almost deathly tight, certain he might be leaving bruises.

Then they reached the home of the mother and her family. They were welcomed inside and brought into her chambers where the doctors and medical droid also remained.

Theron swallowed a knot in his throat, eyes frantically glancing around the room. He could hear Altrethir speaking but he couldn’t comprehend the words. Not right now. And around the corner, just tucked behind a ivory-colored curtain, sat a wooden bassinet. Before another thought entered his mind, he was tugged over to the cradle by one of the family members.

They drew the curtain back--and then Theron and Altrethir could see their baby clearly. She was asleep, soundly so, wrapped skillfully in a linen blanket. The Twi’lek genes were definitely more dominant; Theron could see the smallest of bumps on the back of her head--the beginnings of her lekku. Her complexion was blue, like Altrethir’s prior to his flesh becoming pale by corruption, and her mother claimed she had hazel eyes.

My eyes, Theron thought.

Altrethir spoke more with the other family members. Negotiating something or other, no doubt.

Theron’s eyes remained fixated upon his new baby. His flesh and blood--his own child. His baby.

Our baby.

His lips had curled into a stupid grin and he felt a tightness in his throat. And he swore under his breath, quickly bringing his hand to his eyes to wipe away tears that had snuck up on him. Altrethir took notice and gave an amused huff before pulling him into an embrace. Theron clung to him, overwhelmed in the moment and just let go. He could feel his husband rubbing his back in a soothing motion, warm and comforting.

Theron exhaled deeply when they finally pulled away. He brought his emotions back into control, though he still sniffled on occasion.

“What will you call her?” Theron heard one of the doctors ask, their voice heavily accented.

Of course, the couple knew right away, as they’d discussed it months in advance. Altrethir spoke up, “A’lea.”

“A’lea,” Theron repeated, the name holding a new feeling rolling off his tongue.

The doctor nodded and turned away to their paperwork.

“When she wakes up,” Altrethir said, “you’ll be the first to hold her.”

Theron’s stupid grin crept back onto his face.

#swtor #theronshanweek2021 #theron shan #oc: Altrethir Valran #oc: A'lea Shan-Valran #ship: Altrethir/Theron #BABY.#tiny A'lea #it was this or Theron picking her up like 'lmao why are u so small'#wish i had started this yesterday but Alas #i never work ahead B)#my writing #fanfiction

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darthsassacre · 3 years

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Theron Week Day 6: AU

Theron undertakes an interesting mission and meets the last person he’d ever thought he’d meet.

#star wars #swtor #theronshanweek2021 #theron shan #revan #a few side characters and mentions #this is a really fun au and I am now very attached to it #alternate universe where revan just went as dark as she possibly fucking could lmao

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rhaniel-legacy · 3 years

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Theron Shan’s appreciation week > DAY 3 - TRUST

For this prompt, I decided to go with Theron and Lana’s bond. I love this two so much T^T I have plenty of headcanons for the Order of Zildrog storyline, to make the epilogue less... compact I would say? Theron spent weeks in the infirmary, both in a Kolto tank and on a bed (with artificial coma), recovering from his injuries. Ran has a conversation with him telling she’s ok to have him around, but she’ll need time to be able to be with him. As for Lana, I’ve only finished Nathema’s conspiracy a few weeks ago so I don’t know yet if there’s a scene where she actually exposes her feelings toward the whole ‘undercover mission to save everyone’... so I thought I’ll have to write something about :D

Day 3 > Trust

Characters > Theron Shan, Lana Beniko, oc:Ran Archer, minor oc: Ell’a

Context: Odessen base few weeks after Nathema’s Conspiracy

@theronshanweek-official

Adossé près la porte qui menait aux hangars extérieurs, bras croisés, Theron Shan essayait de retrouver ses marques peu à peu. Cela faisait quoi … pas loin d’un an qu’il n’avait pas remis les pieds ici ? Rien n’avait vraiment changé, du moins matériellement parlant : même si la Flotte Éternelle et le Cénotaphe avaient été détruits, l’Alliance conservait toujours ses escadrons de chasseurs, ses croiseurs, et ses navettes. Et ce fut justement l’arrivée d’une de ces dernières qui montra à Theron à quel point les gens, eux, avaient changé.

Il pouvait se vanter de la connaître depuis quelques années déjà, et pourtant, il ne l’avait jamais vue aussi démonstrative en public. A part évidemment, avec lui.

Theron serrait les mâchoires. Il ne voulait pas s’attarder aussi longtemps sur ce détail, mais c’était plus fort que lui. Elle avait l’air si heureuse de retrouver cette fille. Il n’arrivait pas à savoir ce qu’il ressentait véritablement en les observant.

- Vous êtes un peu rouillé Agent Shan. Pour la discrétion on repassera.

L’homme se redressa légèrement lorsque Lana Beniko vint s’appuyer contre le mur à ses côtés.

- Bien, merci, et toi ? répondit-il, piqué au vif. Tu étais toujours aussi acerbe de bon matin, ou est-ce que c’est parce que Koth a fini le caf ?

Elle croisa les bras à son tour et minauda :

- Non je vous laisse toujours aussi volontiers ce jus de chaussette …

Lana explora les environs du regard une brève seconde, avant de se tourner vers Theron :

- Tu devrais vraiment arrêter de les fixer, les soldats commencent à s’interroger sur ton comportement. La moitié a l’air d’imaginer que tu prépares un plan pour l’assassiner, et l’autre pense que tu es jaloux.

- Et toi ? (Un sourire sarcastique se dessina sur ses lèvres :) Tu en penses quoi ?

- J’en pense que ça ne sert à rien de te morfondre, et qu’il faut juste lui laisser du temps … et de l’espace.

Theron lâcha un soupir et leva les yeux au ciel.

- C’est juste que je ne peux pas m’empêcher de penser que le comportement qu’elle a avec cette fille est peut-être un peu … prématuré.

Lana se redressa et lui posa une main rassurante sur le bras.

- Ell’a est une véritable amie. Elle a fait beaucoup pour elle. Tu n’as pas le droit de juger ça.

- Mais c’est une danseuse de cantina, renchérit-il. Tu imagines le nombre de personnes d’horizons différents qu’elle a pu rencontrer sur Nar Shaddaa ? Comment être sûr qu’elle n’espionne pas pour le compte d’une faction ennemie ? Je veux juste … (Il secoua la tête :) Je veux juste m’assurer qu’elle s’entoure des bonnes personnes.

- Calme toi, rétorqua Lana avec fermeté. Que tu le veuilles ou non, beaucoup de choses ont changé depuis que …

Depuis que tu nous a trahi ? songea Theron.

- … depuis ton absence, poursuivit-elle d’une voix faible.

Elle laissa échapper un bref soupir et entraîna Theron à l’écart. Un simple coup d'œil en arrière lui suffit à discerner qu’aucune oreille indiscrète ne traînait. Et Ran et Ell’a avaient quitté le hangar.

- Theron, reprit-elle doucement, aie confiance en son jugement. Ell’a est une fille bien, et honnête. Elle a été présente à ses pires moments, et après ton départ elle lui a apporté un soutien que nous avons été incapable de lui donner ...

Il plissa les yeux.

- … sauf que ce n’est pas à moi de te raconter ça, ajouta Lana en scrutant les alentours.

Elle regrettait d’en avoir autant dit. Elle voulut s’esquiver et clore ainsi la discussion quand Theron l’attrapa brusquement par le bras. Elle cherchait désespérément à éviter son regard.

- Tu en as trop dit ou pas assez.

Elle se mordit l'intérieur de la joue en réfléchissant à comment sortir de cette situation.

- Lana.

Devant son silence, il fit un pas en arrière, comme s’il s’était brûlé.

- Alors on en est là hein … C'est à ton tour de me laisser dans l'ombre.

A ces mots, l’air devint électrique. La sith sentit soudain la Force s’agiter autour d’elle en réponse à son corps qui bouillonnait de rage :

- Non mais qu’est-ce que tu crois Theron ?! Toute sa vie on lui a inculqué que laisser les autres s’approcher trop près c’était risquer de se retrouver avec un poignard dans le dos !

Lana fit un pas en avant. Il ne recula pas pour autant et croisa de nouveau les bras.

- Tu crois qu’elle n’avait pas envie de croire que tu n’étais pas réellement en train de la trahir ? Tu crois qu’elle n’avait pas envie de te faire confiance ?!

Les lèvres de Theron s’étirèrent en un rictus sarcastique :

- Est-ce que c'est toujours de Ran dont tu parles ou c'est de toi ?

Il perdit aussitôt sa mine satisfaite … La Force s’était subitement calmée autour d’elle. Elle avait pincé les lèvres pour retenir des mots qu’elle savait, allaient dépasser sa pensée. Mais ses yeux la trahirent.

- Lana … commença t-il.

C’était presque un murmure. Une supplication.

Mais un mot, un seul, s’échappa de la bouche de la sith :

- Blast !

Elle tourna les talons, essuyant ses joues du revers de la main. Il ouvrit la bouche mais aucun son n’en sortit. On n’entendit bientôt plus que les pas de Lana résonner sur le sol … et le cœur de Theron qui semblait prêt à se briser.

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Merci de m’avoir lu ♥

#Star Wars: The Old Republic #SWTOR #Theron Shan #TheronShanWeek2021 #DAY 3 > TRUST #Lana Beniko #oc: Ran Archer #Imperial Agent x Theron Shan #Technoplague x Cipher 9 #Nathema's Conspiracy #my ultimate BROTP #I love them so much T o T

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movedto-consularmain · 3 years

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day three of theron appreciation week: trust

@theronshanweek-official

#theronshanweek2021 #swtor #theron shan #lana beniko #oc: minerva #jedi knight #every time i draw theron he looks slightly different but by the end of this week i will be able to draw him perfectly #my art

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sheyshen · 3 years

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Theron week day 3 - Trust

“He always worked solo. As much because he didn’t want to risk others as not wishing to worry. worry for their safety, have them worry about his, worry that he’d have to choose between the SIS and them, worry that they might leave him or betray him. But as the time went, he found those he trusted more than anything, those who he wanted to worry for and know they worried for him. Those he loved and would do anything to protect. And those that loved him and trusted him in return.”

I suppose this would’ve worked for day 2 (and same for yesterday’s working for today) but wanted to go with people who he trusted most for today and platonic relationships yesterday, this will be the only time I’m going to do ship art for the week, so please enjoy the trio in their natural state. bothering Theron when he is probably trying to work. (not that he’s actually complaining)

#my art #TheronShanWeek2021 #theron shan #arcann #oc: kara hawke #swtor #star wars #star wars the old republic

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lonewolfel · 3 years

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Theron Appreciation Week: Day 2

Prompt: Relationships

Gen

Characters: Theron, Satele, Jace, Senya, Lana

@theronshanweek-official

Theron walked into a rundown bar on Nar Shaddaa. He ignored the blinking light on his datapad. Theron was ignoring all the messages from Jace. After the he left the Republic he had received messages about how he was a coward and a deserter. He didn't want to deal with that. Granted he was working with Lana “will allow you to be captured and tortured by Revanites” Beniko so maybe he deserved it. After all the only reason he was here was because of the Sith. But no he wasn’t a traitor. Jace was so blind to his duty in the Republic military that he couldn’t see that Saresh was turning the Republic into the very thing they were fighting against. Perhaps Theron should feel hurt that his father chose the Republic over his own son, but he was used to it. You have to be with a Jedi mom.

Theron had never really been close to anyone beside Master Zho nor did he do relationships. The closest to a friendship he even has is with Lana and that was saying something. The closest to a relationship he had was with Darth Imperius. Three years ago they put whatever relationship they could have had after Yavin on hold for their respective factions. Theron thought that they could possibly have that relationship when he left the Republic, but her death was announced soon after. Lana reached out to him soon after about forming this Alliance against Emperor Arcann and Zakuul.

His goal was sitting in the back of the cantina. His target one Senya Tirall. Former Head of the Royal Guard’s Knights under Valkorion and Captain of the disciplinary knights division. Lana wanted to know if she could be recruited. She wore a black cloak that obscured her in shadow.

"Care for a drink?" Theron asked. He leaned against the chair across from her with his arms crossed.

Senya looked up at Theron allowing him to see her face. She had pale skin with two seemingly stone objects imbedded in her forehead. She had blue eyes that reminded him a lot of Satele. There was a steeliness to her eyes. The eyes of a woman who has seen loss and war. Yet there was something else in her eyes that Theron couldn't recognize that seemed to take the same place as Satele’s emotionless Jedi eyes.

“Aren’t I little old for you?” Senya Tirall asked. Her face was hardened as if prepared to fight. Theron shrugged.

“I’m not here for a social call, Tirall.” Theron said. With her steely blue eyes she analyzed him. Finally she got what she seemed to want. Her eyes softened slightly.

“Your Lana’s contact.” Senya Tirall said. Theron nodded before sitting across from her.

“Yeah.” Theron said with a shrug.

“What’s your name?” Senya Tirall asked.

“Theron Shan.” Theron said bracing himself for it. For the “like Grand Master Satele Shan” or the less common “like Bastila Shan and Revan”. Yet that never came from the knight. Senya nodded her head and looked away from the former SIS agent.

“Well, Theron Shan.” Senya Tirall said calmly. “Your here to see if I am really going to defect to the Alliance.”

“It’s hard to not be suspicious of you.” Theron said simply. “After all, you hunted down, imprisoned, and killed those who did defect from Zakuul. Why should we believe?” Senya took a deep breath as she prepared to answer.

“I’ve come to realize that this war is wrong. I understand your skepticism in me, but I reached out with sincerity.” Senya said. Theron frowned.

“Let me guess. It was Arcann’s ordering of the massacre of the Scions not the hundreds of planets destroyed in both the Republic and the Empire that made you realize this. Not the genocides of innocent people.” Theron said letting his anger get the better of him. Theron wasn’t stupid he knew that he did horrible things in the name of the Republic, but he knew Senya’s file. She had led her own fair share of massacring innocent lives. Theron would like to think that he would never cross that line. Senya’s eyes hardened in determination and sadness.

“I won’t pretend I didn’t my own damage to civilians. Your right the massacre of the Scions is what convinced me, but I had thought I was doing the right thing for Zakuul.” Senya said meeting Theron’s gaze. He couldn’t help, but wonder if Jace may come to the same realization as the knight. Probably not.

“Not the galaxy.” Theron said

“No. You have to understand that I will do what is needed for my family and Zakuul. I have recently found what my family needs and Zakuul needs are not always the same.” Senya said

“So what did you choose?” Theron asked already knowing the answer. There was a reason that he saw so much of Jace and Satele in the knight after all. Senya would choose her duty to Zakuul over her family every time.

“Zakuul.” Senya said quietly. She then met Theron’s eyes with her determined ones. “I will save Zakuul and my family.” Theron nodded having gotten what he wanted from her. He stood up.

“I’ll talk to Lana. If she wants you to join she will contact you soon.” Theron said. He turned around and prepared to leave.

“Do you have a family, Theron?” Senya asked. This question shocked Theron still. He didn’t turn around to face her.

“No.” Theron answered honestly. “I know better than to.”

#theronshanweek2021 #swtor #Star Wars The Old Republic #Theron Shan #satele shan #Jace Malcom #senya tirall #lana beniko

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sullustangin · 3 years

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Theron Shan Week, Prompt 1: Childhood

Corellia, 14 ATC (3639 BBY)

(Post Annihilation, pre-Hutt Cartel)

Word Count: ~3000

Rating: PG/T

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33142732

A whoosh of air.

He touched down on the last building ledge before the street turned into a crater. He recalibrated his jetpack for the potentially dangerous terrain he was about to face below. This job was to be a quick one. Recover personnel data and exfiltrate to the remains of the Coronet Spaceport. Then it was on to Makeb for initial reconnaissance. That job would take more time than this one, but still, it had to be quick. Too much was buzzing there, literally and figuratively…

Theron Shan was willing to bet there’d be boots on the ground not long after the new galactic year rolled in. He leapt from his perch on the building and activated the retroboosters just in time to let himself touch down softly, flexing his foot against the ground to test stability.

Acceptable. Theron switched the pack to standby and fixed his attention on what was beneath his feet. That was always the center of focus now, lest he plunge down into the sewers as the ground gave way.

Before proceeding any further, Theron called up old holostills. Despite the ruin of Coronet City, certain features remained identifiable, and he’d be damned if he was going to go rooting through the wrong building.

He’d done his best to forget this place, after all.

As his implants matched key architectural features and the crumbling skyline, Theron closed his eyes to conjure long-shelved memories.

Yes, he had stood here before. This used to be the gymnasium. He’d spent countless hours there. It was the one place he could fly. It was the last place his body had been perfect.

Well, almost. He’d had an adventurous childhood. There was certainly a difference, however, between slicing his foot on a shell on the Gold Beaches and being shot in some Czerka factory on Telos IV. Theron impulsively ran his tongue over his new teeth. After Ziost, he estimated he had six original teeth left.

Funny how he thought of that in the place he cut his last molars.

That all said, Theron never had a particularly strong opinion about his body. His body was a tool, something he used to serve the Republic and work in the Strategic Information Service.

Just as his boot nudged a sign, covered over in dust, his implants chirped to confirm his location. Using a heavily gloved hand, he crouched to wipe the metal plate just enough to read the lasered words: CORONET CITY MILITARY ACADEMY GYMNA—

The rest of the sign was broken off, probably somewhere in this rubble. It confirmed everything else though, including his own recollections about this place.

As Theron tread carefully through the ruin, his focus was on the rubble under his feet and the map in his implants, augmented by the old memories that ran in his head like holos.

Those were simple tasks, however. Theron’s mind was far more active than that, much to his annoyance. He thought back…

His mind and body had been sharply honed from a young age. The discipline of a Jedi was more than mental. However, he noticed the first hint that something was wrong with him. Theron had to work so hard, and he had to be so much more fit he than the other younglings he occasionally encountered in his travels with Master Zho. Yes, he was strong and athletic and graceful. But Theron struggled. He fought gravity, as others danced with it.

Theron remembered her in particular. The girl who had bested him with such little effort was also the most compassionate of the bunch. She was going to be a great Jedi, he knew it. She barely bent her knees before she could launch high in the air, and she landed silently, as if invisible wings lowered her back to the dusty earth. Theron had to put everything he had into the launch, and the soil puffed up around him in the arid environment as his body displaced it.

She was poetry. He was gutter-speak.

Theron could defeat ill-disciplined younglings, but someone like her – someone who took this just as seriously as he did – outmatched him. He tired long before she did, and it was a mystery to him how her muscles did not ache, how her breath never managed to run out.

It was only in retrospect that Theron realized he had a crush on her. At the time, the warm feeling that had crept across his face whenever she spoke to him, the small flutter his tiny, preteen heart gave – that had been dismissed. Jedi didn’t fall in love. Jedi didn’t have selfish attachments.

Theron wanted to become a padawan on the off-chance he’d be paired with his mother as his master.

The dream changed – it had to – after Haashimut.

Zho left him without telling him he was as Force-null as his biological father likely had been -whoever he was.

Nobody knew who his biological father was.

His mother didn’t come for him. They couldn’t find her.

As he turned 14, Theron was lodged at Coronet City Military Academy. Here.

Theron turned. This was where the lift had been that went down to the basement, where the janitorial offices and the records facility had been. He peered over the edge of the shaft. No, he wasn’t going to risk it. Theron activated the magnetic picks on the toes of his boots, turned the retroboosters to standby, just in case, and he started the dusty, sweaty climb down. The heat that built up reminded him of one particular shame that came over him --

Theron was put on a brief crash course of all the subjects Jedi hasn’t necessarily prioritized in his education to this point.

He discovered his mother was imperfect and had apparently broken the Jedi code. At least once. Theron was evidence – a body of evidence.

He was embarrassed. He felt like he’d been fooled by everyone about his mother, about his abilities, about his life – everything.

The first bubbling of teenage fury rose up in him, and when the school registrar asked for his name, he did not supply “Theron Zho” as he so often had when traveling with his so-called ‘father.’

“My name is Theron Shan.”

Theron hadn’t known at the time that “Shan” was as common as Smith or Parr or K’tilhok in certain corners of the galaxy. He thought he was being defiant. He was one of nineteen Shans in his class at the Coronet City Military Academy. So much for that rebellion, that attempt at scandal that would surely bring her to confront him…to see him for the first time since he was six months old.

Theron always carried that last holo with him… the one of her with him and her. The anger died away when the news reached him that Satele Shan had rediscovered Tython. It wouldn’t be formally founded and populated for another few years, but she had done the impossible. To her credit, she had sent word to the governors of the Academy that she was gratified that Master Zho’s charge Theron had been safely placed in their care.

The business of Tython would be a long process that took time. She was going to be busy.

Theron continued to train his body and maintain the physical fitness he had, even though he was never going to have the opportunity to do a backflip, summon his lightsaber into his hand, and duel a Sith Lord atop of a ship hull or anything like that.

Theron also found out that the kind Jedi youngling had become a padawan. She was killed at the Coruscant temple. He didn’t want to remember her name anymore. It hurt too much, for he had realized that if he had been Force Sensitive, he wouldn’t be here on Corellia in so many ways.

That first Life Day on Corellia, Theron knew the conundrum of his heart being so warm and yet the outside world being so cold as other children went home on weekends and holidays, and he remained in the dormitory. His bed assignment was changed at the end of term, so nobody thought anything was amiss. Everyone’s bed assignment was changed between terms. He wasn’t thought to be any different than other child. His parents just got him late and returned him early, his peers thought. It was impossible that he stayed there for a month by himself.

But he did.

Theron always remembered the janitors that cared for the building and the one chef that remained to feed him and the residential staff. It wasn’t just a holdover from Jedi teachings about equality and respect. He mouthed their names as he passed the doorless thresholds that were once their offices: C’thik. Donya. Thileo. Danodeen. They cared for Theron. He cared about them the best he could.

Something inside Theron hurt any time he had an urge to express his feelings beyond gratitude. Many impulses to hug were suppressed. When he woke up from the formless terror that pursued him in the night, he did want to scream out, in the hopes someone heard him. But he pushed that down. He grew up, or at least he imitated the idea of what he thought was being a grown up.

Theron’s constant presence at the Academy came with the assumption of an unhappy home, so in the second term, it appeared some well-meaning mothers encouraged their sons to befriend him. He remembered some of them. They’d grown up in places like this too.

Theron didn’t remember the names of his … companions? Fellow inmates? all that well. They were good kids. They didn’t get Theron, who was so mature about some stuff but just so oblivious to other stuff, like girls and music and holos and virtual games.

The girls at the Academy were made of braver stuff than the boys were. Theron didn’t know what to make of them, for the most part, but they at least tried to strike up a conversation with him. They asked how he was. He failed, utterly, at small talk, so once their questions were answered, he moved on. The girls were brazen in coming to watch him in the gymnasium. Theron was already in SIS by the time he figured out they hadn’t been interested in the technical merits of his routine.

The boys (with one exception) never got too close to Theron. They were terrified of him after he knocked an upperclassman’s teeth down his throat for trying to shake down the class runt in Theron’s year for his datapad. They still hung out with him, but they watched him with the same fascination they had when they visited the zoo’s jaggalors. He was a creature so fierce they were never even tempted to tap on the glass, see how he was doing, what was going on inside.

The one exception’s name was Arlo, the runt in question, and the datapad was his comic book collection. The collection had been started by his grandfather and maintained by his father and uncle and passed down to the smallest Gran ever born in that family.

Theron thought it was the most wonderful thing to have a hand-me-down anything from anyone.

Arlo wasn’t bothered when Theron asked why he was being trained in the military arts; the Gran had strict career quotas, and everyone was expected to do their part. Arlo was not an obvious candidate for battlefield hero. “I’m in this to get into the intelligence service. SIS.”

That was the first time Theron ever heard of what would become the rest of his life.

In exchange for self-defense lessons, Theron became very knowledgeable about the last 75 years of comic books. It was still the only element of pop culture he kept up with. Theron kept it to himself; his dates never got it. He and Arlo plotted their schedules so that they could train together, study together, and have a free period on the day of the week when the comics hit the holostands. They took the tram to the nearest major holostand – the one near the academy didn’t have comics, possibly at the behest of the commandant. In their minds, nothing was going to stand in the way of them getting into SIS together and seeing the galaxy and fighting the Empire.

…Somewhere in the middle of that, as he stood in the basement, Theron realized he had still been just a child.

Well, this might have been a wasted trip. Theron stood in what remained of the records office. At the back of the room, there was a great kriffing hole that vented down into the sewer he’d been so anxious to avoid, and half the databanks had clearly collapsed into it. If they’d been swept away, then it was game over for Theron. Ugh. The flimsi work he’d have to file.

Then again, it was only half the databanks. He still had a 50/50 chance of success. Theron activated his implants and scanned for the power source. Aha, there. And it had a battery back-up. Theron waited for the full report on the battery’s health before he did anything. He needed to know how much time he had.

He wanted to be done with this place.

Once the battery passed its health screening, Theron sliced in with his implants and booted the entire system up with the clearance codes he’d been given by the current commandant; the one Theron had known was long gone.

Yes, he knew there was corruption. Yes, he knew critical files were missing. Yes, yes, yes, yes, please boot up now –

Would he like an index of available files?

Yes, yes, he would. It would tell him whether this was pointless –

Or not. It was not. The two sets of files he had been instructed to extract and wipe from this system were right there. The Empire hadn’t even realized it had trodden right over vital intel about the agent now known as Technoplague and the SIS Director.

Marcus Trant had been Coronet City Military Academy’s finest alumnus, rising high and fast before, during, and just after the Great Galactic War. His arrival on campus had turned heads. Not Theron’s. Theron remained focused on his study and his physical routine.

It was after Theron had stuck the landing on his floor routine that the man approached him. Theron remembered watching him with wariness until he introduced himself as the Director of SIS. He was seeking recruits for the agency’s early start program. Promising 16 and 17 year-olds could go. Since Theron was a ward of the state, it was entirely his choice; parental permission wasn’t required.

Theron’s first question was whether Arlo could go with him.

Arlo was ultimately sidelined from SIS due to a heart murmur. Even if he was just an analyst, SIS wanted him to be able to handle himself in a blaster fight, and they didn’t want to kill him while training him. That meant he went back home to become a religious scholar.

Theron went to SIS. Arlo gave him a copy of the comic collection, with his father’s permission.

Then the rest of Theron’s life had started.

Theron checked the files to ensure he’d copied everything over before wiping and reformatting those sectors of the database. For Trant, his files could be a wealth of raw data and inspiration; he could have drawn on his experience at the academy to create codenames passcodes, associations. He could have used innocuous childhood memories to create these items. Someone with enough data about Trant’s life could feasibly put the pieces together.

For Theron, it was all about his biometrics: his medical records, his yearbook holos, even his growth charts could be used to identify him in the field as a grown man. The name didn’t matter as much as the evidence of the body.

He was done here. Theron sent the final command to wipe that area of the database and reformat. Trant and Theron were no longer documented alumni here.

As Theron readied his jetpack for exfiltration (he was keeping it simple: up and out), his implants sorted the images attached to the files before sealing them. He saw something.

He paused the process to have a look at his 14-year-old self. He was 14 years and 5 weeks, actually. Zho had sent him to Haashimut 7 weeks before, just before his birthday.

…and he looked terrified. His life had been ripped apart, and he was flying without a safety net or a familiar face anywhere near him. Theron though he heard the whine of a holocam that would signal a great white flash --

Theron pushed back at the memory, as he always had, and he dismissed the holo, letting the sealing process finish. It was over. There was nothing he could do now. He was no longer a failed Jedi Youngling.

…it was all about context. Theron ignited the jetpack and began his ascent out of the ruin of the Academy.

He’d had a good childhood with Master Zho – if he could forget what happened next. In all honesty, nothing awful had happened at Coronet City Military Academy to make him hate the place. It had been his haven between being a Jedi and being an SIS agent. But it was being between lives that had made Theron so miserable: his past was irrelevant and his future was uncertain for almost three years. That was the context that made every moment there excruciating.

But that was done and over with. He was fine. He had his career. Arlo had his career and his ever-expanding comic collection. They still commed once in awhile.

As Theron landed at the spaceport, a message came through his implants from his personal Holonet box. Oh. Karrie.

Kriff, he’d forgotten to tell her –

Kriff. He was off to Makeb and he’d forgotten to tell the girlfriend he wasn’t even on Coruscant.

Well, if she was the girlfriend after that screw-up. He left it on ‘read.’ He’d try to comm her in transit. Theron really did like her. He was pretty sure he was in love with her.

Theron would deal with the personal stuff later. On to Makeb and the next mission.

Neither the Republic presence on the planet or the girlfriend endured the following year.

Author’s Note: I’ve had this sort of headcanon dump file for Theron, and I drew this out of it. I have a few more bits still in it. In terms of timeline, I imagine that after the Treaty of Coruscant was finalized, Satele disappeared to go find Tython for the better part of 18 months. It’s during this period -- as Theron is 13 going on 14 -- that Zho finally gives up on him and Theron leaves the Jedi. Satele finds Tython and finally gets word of Theron’s situation. I decided that “finding Tython” and the “founding of Tython” are two separate events; the Jedi didn’t just move in the second Satele popped up with the good news. So 3653-3651 is a transition period for the Republic, Satele, and Theron at the same time. It’s a new galaxy for the losers of the war.

@theronshanweek-official

#theron shan #theronshanweek2021 #swtor #swtor fan fiction

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darthsassacre · 3 years

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Theron Week Day 5: Ziost

Theron and Soronae work through the aftermath of Ziost

#star wars #swtor #theronshanweek2021 #theron shan #oc: soronae kela #neither of these kids is okay but they're trying #also theron you're pulling a revan here don't do that she is NOT the role model you want

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rhaniel-legacy · 3 years

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Theron Shan’s appreciation week > DAY 2 - RELATIONSHIPS

I was planning on writing something longer for this one but today left me more tired than expected ): Still hasn’t touch my translations, I hope I can post a few within the week but I prefer to focus on writing each prompt for now. Anyway I hope you’ll enjoy it ♥

Day 2 > Relationships

Characters > Theron Shan, oc:Ran Archer

Context: this prompt takes place in 3636 BBY, few months after Marr’s ship is destroyed by the eternal fleet and the outlander is reported as dead. My oc Ran Archer is my Imp Agent, and she fell hard for a certain pub spy during SoR (:

@theronshanweek-official

En dehors du doux ronronnement de quelques appareils en veille, il ne régnait pas le moindre bruit dans l’appartement de Theron Shan. Pourtant la légère vibration d’un holocom vint rompre la quiétude des lieux. Theron ouvrit péniblement les yeux et se redressa du canapé sur lequel il s’était assoupi, encore un peu sonné par ce réveil impromptu. Le bloc de données qu’il était en train de consulter au moment où Morphée avait réclamé son dû manqua de s’écraser sur le sol, mais un réflexe inattendu évita la catastrophe. Assis sur le sofa, Theron se passa une main sur le visage. Sa gorge était sèche et sa langue pâteuse, très certainement la faute à la bouteille de whisky corellien qui traînait sur un coin de la table à côté d’une masse de papiers en tout genre et de rapports cryptés. C’est justement sous ce fatras qu’il chercha sans grande conviction où était passé son holo. Comme pour le narguer, la vibration s’arrêta. Il lâcha un soupir bruyant avant de se gratter la joue : depuis combien de jours il ne s’était pas rasé au fait ?

Mon pauvre il vaut mieux pas que t’ailles voir ta tête dans le miroir.

A l’extérieur, les étoiles cherchaient vainement à faire concurrence aux lueurs des speeders qui défilaient non loin. Leurs lumières combinées faisaient danser les ombres dans le loft.

Theron jeta un œil à la bouteille d’alcool, pour constater qu’elle était presque vide. Il se servit ce qu’il restait dans le verre à côté et grogna en le portant à ses lèvres : son canapé n’était décidément pas aussi confortable que son lit mais il était plus simple de travailler dans le séjour. Après avoir ingurgité les dernières gouttes de whisky, il se motiva à ranger un peu le désordre sur la table.

Ah te voilà toi.

D’une simple pression du pouce, Theron activa le petit objet et le holo commença à jouer le message laissé par son mystérieux interlocuteur.

- Salut Theron. Tu te rappelles de moi ? Jonas Balkar, tu sais le gars à qui t'as promis de ramener ses rapports avant 10h00 ce soir ? Ce serait sympa que tu accélères le mouvement. Oh et je ne te souhaite pas une bonne soirée vu qu'à tous les coups tu es encore enfermé chez toi à ruminer. Ciao.

Theron lâcha violemment le holo sur la table avant de se masser la nuque. Il manquait cruellement de sommeil, il le savait. Et le pire c'était que cette privation ne lui avait rien rapporté. Cela faisait des semaines, peut-être même des mois maintenant, qu'il étudiait chaque rapport, chaque compte-rendu, chaque document qu'il arrivait à récupérer pour trouver une faille. Néanmoins il était toujours bredouille : Zakel était bien trop puissante, organisée, et agissait systématiquement de manière chirurgicale. Pourtant il refusait d'abandonner. La traque, la vengeance, c'était tout ce qui lui restait.

Ses yeux dérivèrent vers un petit enregistreur sur sa droite. Il hésita un instant à l'allumer. Cela ne ferait que rouvrir une plaie déjà bien assez dure à supporter. Mais il avait encore plus peur à l'idée d'oublier son visage.

"Peut-être que la prochaine fois que nous nous retrouverons des millions de vies ne seront pas en jeu ?"

Était-ce elle qui avait prononcé ces mots ? Ou peut-être lui ? Il se rendit compte avec horreur que sa mémoire commençait déjà à lui jouer des tours. Il rapprocha le petit enregistreur de lui, comme pour observer et assimiler chaque détail de la jeune femme qu'il faisait apparaître.

Ran …

Il porta ses doigts à ses lèvres comme pour essayer de se rappeler de la sensation quand elle l'avait embrassé pour la dernière fois. Il ferma les yeux et chercha dans ses souvenirs.

Un rire après qu'il ait raconté une anecdote surréaliste.

Un regard quand ils s'étaient avoués aimer passer du temps en la compagnie de l'autre.

Un gémissement quand ils avaient …

Theron secoua la tête pour chasser ce dernier souvenir de ses pensées et rouvrit les yeux. Tout cela avait été balayé du jour au lendemain. Il ne lui restait plus que la colère et l'amertume désormais. Peu importe ce que cela allait lui coûter, il ferait payer Zakel.

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Merci de m’avoir lu ♥

#Star Wars: The Old Republic #SWTOR #Theron Shan #TheronShanWeek2021 #DAY 2 > RELATIONSHIPS #Imperial Agent x Theron Shan #Technoplague x Cipher 9 #oc: Ran Archer

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