Private Shattering

[Cedric Grayson]

The alarm klaxons thundered in Wilhelm's ears as he tried to shake off the post-sleep grogginess that mired his mind in fog. For a few moments, he was unsure as to whether he'd truly awoken, or this was just a particularly realistic and unpleasant dream. A forceful tug on his sleeve stirred him from such confusion. The boy grumbled under his breath as he wiped at his eyes, "Do we have to have another drill? I was having a really good dream."

"This isn't a drill son," came the voice of his father. There was the strength of stone in the old man's words, and Wilhelm instantly understood just how serious their situation was. The boy bolted up from his bed, blue eyes darting around each corner of the room for the knife he carried for protection; a second tug on his sleeve stopped his searching.

"We've no time Wilhelm. Our enemies are already here." His father continued as he reached toward the lightsaber hanging at his belt. A pang of fear shot through the boy, as if someone had thrown a bucket of icy water over his head. "The Sith?"

"Something of that kind. Worse. You need to do exactly as I say." His father continued. Wilhelm nodded enthusiastically. he'd only been in his father's presence a handful of times, and in those times he had never heard such direness in the old man's voice. This was deathly serious.

The old man drew his cowl over his face as he led his son through the sleeping quarters in the aft section of the ship. The alarms continued to blare, and emergency lights cast the utilitarian interior in a hue of violent crimson. Were it not for his father's stalwart presence, Wilhelm would almost certainly have been made incoherent with panic. The sounds of blaster fire echoed from the corridors beyond, and his father quickly turned down an adjacent corridor to avoid it.

"W-who are they?" Wilhelm asked through a trembling lower lip.

"An old friend, or rather he was one, a long time ago," the old man murmured as they reached the escape pods. Wilhelm's father furrowed his brow in distaste as he read off the many errors splayed across the escape pods' control pad. "This is going to take me a moment. Watch the corridor son," his father grumbled as he ripped the paneling from its hinges with an expression of telekinetic will. "This shouldn't take long. Tell me if you see anyone."

The sounds of blaster fire quieted abruptly, and the silence that followed was deafening. Then came the sound of booted footfalls just down the corridor they had come from, growing and closer with each passing second.

Panic pulled at the edges of the child's mind.

"They're coming!" He half-whispered as he tugged on his father's cloak. The Jedi just offered a nod. "I know Wil, I know. This won't be much longer," the old man paused for a moment, blue eyes darting down to meet the very same eyes in his only son. "I want you to know that I love you son. I was never fit to be a father. Your mother knew that, and I brought this danger to you through my own actions." The panel sparked as he pulled at one of the wires, "I'm...sorry for not being there for you until now. In the end, I suppose your grandfather and I are the same."

Confusion and terror warred for control of the boy's features as he continued to tug at his father's sleeve. "Why are you saying that? Let's just go! They're so close!"

"I know."

His father turned from the panel, his cyan blade roaring to life and illuminating several figures that were quickly approaching down the corridor. "The pod's fried Wilhelm. I'm sorry."

For the first time in his short life, Wilhelm understood the meaning of terror. He stared up with wide eyes at the old man, mouth agape, his whole body shaking with fear. "N-no we can...can't you fight them? You can fight them! You're a hero!"

His father gave him a small, tired smile. "For you, I will be," he placed a hand on his son's head. "Hide in the pod. Don't come out until I call for you, do you understand." His voice shook with unspoken emotion. It made Wilhelm's eyes start to water.

"O-okay. I'll wait for you," the boy wrapped his little arms as best he could around his father. "I love you too."

"Go on then," his father ordered as he withdrew from the embrace. Wilhelm did as he was bidden, sliding the pod doors shut behind him and hiding himself beneath one of the chairs. His father turned to face the intruders, lightsaber burning in his left hand.

"Some part of me hoped I'd see you again, Adron Malvern , but not like this." The old man shook his head, exhaustion clear in his voice. "Not like this."

 

[Adron Malvern]

BEGINNING OR END​

Tags: Cedric Grayson ​

The galaxy certainly had a funny way of reminding an individual of his past. More accurately, it relished in dragging up the hollow bones of the past from whatever hell-forsaken grave it had been buried in. It had done so only a few years ago when the self-proclaimed "Queen" of Serenno attempted to buy Adron's patronage for her throne. Now it showed itself with an Essonian ship on the edge of his own planet's system.

It was no coincidence. The Force wrapped around him in a cold embrace, causing the Sith Lord to realize the truth behind this unknown ship. The Illyrian Patrol forces in the area wasted no time in assailing the ship and halting it's escape. All the while, the King of Illyria stood on the deck of his own flagship, The Veil, a massive Dreadnaught intended for grim warfare. His eyes took in the sight of the Essonian ship, watching the Illyrian Corvette's attach to the ship's hull.

"Your Majesty. We have been unable to identify the ship, however it seems there are only two living lifeforms remaining. Permission to terminate?" The King was silent for a moment, a hand brushing against his well-shaven chin as his amethyst eyes gazed out at the ship. Again the Force pressed over him in an all too familiar wave and it forced the man into consideration. Finally, his voice could be heard speaking to the Deck Officer who had approached him. "No. Prepare my shuttle. I want them taken alive." He ordered the man with an off-handed wave of dismissal.

And so the King turned from the viewport, making his way through the pristine pearl halls of the Veil to his private hangar. Four members of Le Garde Des Rois stood as still as statues on either side of his ship's loading ramp. Each of them bowed their heads as their King passed, their hands wrapping around the hilts of their Vibroswords as they followed the man up the ramp. The trip from The Veil to the captured Essonian ship was a short one, however the moment Adron set foot on the captured starship he felt a sense of nostalgia flood over him.

He had spent a good deal of his childhood aboard Essonian ships. The thought of genuine nostalgia crossing over him actually caused his lips to curl up in an amused smirk. "Where are they?" He demanded.

"Down this corridor, your majesty." One of his guard spoke up, pointing an armored gauntlet down the ship's main spine.

The sound of armored boots echoed down the hall as Adron led his Royal Guard through the ship. Finally, they found the display they had been searching for. The Illyrian Soldiers had taken up a firing line inside of a room which seemed to host escape pods. "Prepare to fire!" One of the soldiers echoed out as they raised their blasters towards the Jedi before them. That was when one member of the Royal Guard's voice called out, echoing through the corridor loudly.

"Make way for the King, you dogs!" He growled out.

The riflemen lowered their blasters, not hesitating as they stepped back, creating a path for Adron to enter into the room.

The moment they parted, Adron could see the all too familiar face and recognized it for exactly what it was. "Greyson." He exhaled, passing through the threshold and turning his eyes to the Jedi Master with no hidden contempt. "You are far from Ession." He said, his tone a thick vial of venom. He paused for a moment. The Sith Lord had only been half-regarding the Jedi Master, yet as fresh eyes took him in once again he could sense something, something that had not been there during their last meeting.

The balance was off. Adron's eyes seemed to nearly close for a moment as the Dark Side filled his veins and his lips curled into a knowing smile. "You have gotten older." He finally muttered out in a hushed tone. "It seems...If you have come here to kill me then that is impossible. Your presence in the Force is no longer what it once was." Adron's eyes opened, snapping towards the man as he took a single step forward.

"Why are you here, Greyson?"
​

​

 

[Cedric Grayson]

Wilhelm's hands clung to the top of his head as he tried to make himself as small as physically possible. The whole endeavor wasn't working out particularly well - no matter how he twisted or turned, one of his legs still poked out from under the seats. It was all he could focus on: all he could allow himself to focus on anyway. He heard strange voices coming from the other side of the pod, and that of his father's, though the words were difficult to parse. His eyes squeezed shut as he tried to reach out into the 'magics' as his ancestors had claimed to do. All that got him was a stabbing headache.

His father eyed Adron Malvern like a cornered animal. The sureness of purpose he'd carried before was long gone. His eyes were wild and alert, his body poised to strike at a moment's notice. "People do tend to get older as time goes on," he murmured, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I haven't come here for you. Truth be told I never expected to see you again."

The Jedi Master's eyes darted from one guard to the next. Under normal circumstances, he could dispatch them all easily enough, but his wounds had slowed him. He wasn't certain if he could even deal with Adron alone anymore, and the thought threatened to break his composure. It was sheer force of will that kept him from lashing out in some pointless show of desperation.

"I'm headed to the edge of the galaxy Adron. The emperor's hounds are biting at my heels, and I can only throw them off the scent for so long. My business in politics, in the great game, it's done." He explained earnestly. The Jedi expected little by way of mercy from his old comrade; the Bogan had long since burned out any remnants of the man that had once been.

Even still, what point was there in lying? It wasn't going to change the situation.

"I have something the Emperor cannot be allowed to have. If he does..." the old man just shook his head. "It can't happen, won't happen," he murmured, more to himself than the Illyrian King. "I have no further quarrel with you Adron. Let me pass, and you'll not hear of me ever again, if for nothing else than for the friendship we had when we were kids. Please."

Adron Malvern

 

[Adron Malvern]

FREEDOM​

Tags: Cedric Grayson ​

Greyson's voice had not ebbed with time. He was as he always had been. Thoughtful, imposing, powerful, and infuriating. As Greyson spoke, Adron's eyes turned from the man to see the stirrings in the shadows behind Cedric. He could feel the presence behind the man, so deeply tethered to Cedric as if a string cut from his own cloth. Those amethyst eyes pierced through the shadows, yet it was only momentarily before the Sith Lord's eyes returned to Cedric.

As Cedric spoke, Adron could not help but curl his lips up in an all too pompous expression of amusement. "I remember when the Sith drove me from my home." His smile soon faded and he showed Cedric a knowing gaze, one with a certain weight to it. "I remember that you were not there." He said simply, before his arms came out from under the black and golden cloak that he wore.

Adron's eyes turned to Cedric and the Dark Side swallowed him whole as his childhood friend spoke. The knowledge that came from it...for a Jedi such as Cedric to be so off-balanced that his emotions were betraying him? There was true fear, true worry, and it opened itself to the Sith Lord.

His eyes turned to the boy who crawled about the shadows and a slight sigh of understanding fell from him. "A son..." He muttered quietly, those eyes piercing through to the boy once again.

There was only a moment to pass before Adron spoke his piece. "You mean nothing to me. Cedric Greyson died some years ago, didn't he? You are simply the shallow husk that remains. All that remains of Cedric is you and that boy..." He said, his hand gesturing to the child hiding among the shadows. "Thrive in the darkness boy, for the light is weak and will never bring you power." He spoke to the boy, before holding a hand out to Cedric.

"Your lightsaber." He told him. "The payment for life is your lightsaber. You will give it to me and then you will have your freedom."

He promised. ​

​

 

[Cedric Grayson]

The Jedi's lips pressed into a thin line as Adron spoke of what had happened to Serenno.

"I would have had it been possible Adron," Cedric replied sincerely. Whatever happened between them, whatever their friendly rivalry had been warped into, he still had regrets over what had happened to his old friend: what had driven the man so far as to become someone else entirely. "But you know of the war. You know I couldn't be there. Nothing we ever did was ever enough," a pause, "Still, for whatever it's worth, I'm sorry. I take responsibility for the flagging defense of Serenno. It was my fault."

Wilhelm could not help but poke his head out from under the chairs. He knew very little about his father. The Jedi Master had been a tertiary figure in his life until very recently, only appearing once every few months at the homestead to make sure Wilhelm and his mother were still alright. It was only after the bounty hunters had come to Dantooine, shot his mother, and razed the homestead to the ground that his father had truly ever been there. The boy did not understand why, but he'd trusted in his father's words: it seemed that trust may have been misplaced.

Even with the distance he kept from his progeny, Cedric's children had never been safe. No one tied to him ever was.

"Perhaps,' Cedric mumbled as the Sith Lord spoke of death and husks. "Perhaps, but the Emperor must not have my boy. I will not have him live the life of a slave, not like my father, not like me." The Jedi shook his head.

A promise was given, one that felt far too good to be true. Cedric stood in silence for a long moment, considering his options. Of all of them, this seemed the only path.

"It's yours," he agreed, the weapon hissing as it died in his hand. He wasted little time in tossing the weapon in Adron's direction. He put no trust in the Sith Lord's words, but fighting would only ensure both his death, and that of his only son. Submission was the only path forward where they might live. "If you mean to kill me, let the boy live. He knows nothing of the Force, the wars, or his family. He is no threat to you or anyone else. He's already lost his mother to this madness; he's suffered enough."

Adron Malvern

 

[Adron Malvern]

BLEED​

Tags: Cedric Grayson ​

Although Adron listened to Cedric's words, he found them bitter and distasteful. He was Sith and though he held a grudge against Cedric for the fall of Serenno, that world no longer meant anything to him. Now Illyria was a world crafted from his own hands to host a design the galaxy had never before seen. It was a place of life, prosperity, and new beginnings. The thought made Adron's eyes glance over to the boy once again. He was older than Adron's son, yet there was the faint pangs of fatherhood that the two shared.

He would do anything to protect Aries as Cedric will do anything to protect his own son.

The man respected that.

When Cedric spoke of slavery, Adron paused to consider his words. Slavery was the backbone of all economies unable to support their own weight. A charlatans attempt at prosperity, crafted off the backs of hundreds of thousands of innocence, it stank of abandon even as a concept.

Cedric did decide to surrender his lightsaber. As the silver hilt flew through the air, Adron reached out through the Force causing it to remain suspended between the two of them. It rotated whimsically as Adron analyzed the subtle tells of the design. All in all it was a fine weapon.

The Jedi's words echoed out and Adron received them with a silent nod. He outstretched his hand, allowing the Force to bring the lightsaber into his hand. "I promised you freedom and life." With a snap-hiss the cyan blade came to life and Adron strafed forward, the Dark Side of the Force compelling him as a vessel to snuff out the light.

It was fast.

The blade that had guarded Cedric for years slammed through his chest, severing his sternum and letting out only a faint buzz for the death it had wrought.

The hilt of the weapon burned in Adron's hand. Screams echoed out as if a thousand lives had suddenly cried out in terror by what had happened. Every single shriek echoed through out Adron's mind until he winced from the overwhelming force that came from it. The balance of light and dark had been tipped yet again, this time causing the crystal within Cedric's weapon to lash out in defiance of the act that had occurred, almost as if it was trying one final time to save it's master.

However, the darkness was too much.

The gratification of pain that came filled Adron and that flooded the depths of the lightsaber to the point where barely visible wisps of shadow dripped from the connection between his hand and the lightsaber.

"You are free." The King whispered softly to Cedric as he rotated the blade inside of the man's chest. "Your son will live. Freedom and life."

With a violent pull, Adron ripped the blade from Cedric's chest. As he did the shadows that had dripped from his hand wrapped around the blade in a vicious outburst. For a single moment they lost their translucent form and as the blade was ripped from Cedric, the cyan blade purged itself of it's color and began to flow into a deep shade of crimson red.
​

​

 

[Cedric Grayson]

Moosic



It was an odd thing, death.

Cedric had known it was coming. He was no fool. The moment his engines had been disabled and the Illyrian markings on his attackers' ships were made apparent, he'd known. Even still, no amount of preparation could properly prepare a man for the act of dying. His eyes drifted shut as the blade flew toward him If he wanted to, he could probably dodge the weapon, but that would defeat the purpose of his submission. If he fought back, if he tried to run, Adron would put his son down in retaliation the moment the opportunity presented itself.

It was a hard call, but then most Cedric's life had consisted of difficult choices. What better way to meet his end?

What surprised him the most was the lack of pain as his lightsaber pierced through him and erupted from his back. It felt more akin to placing one's hand against a block of ice, and then a feeling of nothingness where there was once sensation. His eyes shot open as his body reacted instinctively to the blow, but he willed himself not to struggle. To do so would only add needless suffering to the experience.

"All...I ask." He sputtered through a mouthful of blood. He met Adron's gaze, his that of stone at the end as it had been all his life.

In a sense, it was freeing. The Jedi had lived a miserable life: successes were few and far between, and suffering had been the norm. The brief moments of true bliss were rare and fleeting, but he'd enjoyed them. Some people never got to. He reflected on the luck of his existence as the blade was torn from his body, and he felt the weight of the world crashing down upon him. His legs shuddered and collapsed as the nerves tying them to the rest of his body were severed.

His thoughts were a haze of confusion, elation, and misery. He felt his mother's warm hand on his shoulder: heard his father's words of encouragement, smelled the flower fields just outside the Graywall on Ruusan, experienced the heat of Ession as the planet burned, felt pride swell in his chest as he handed Ryv the Blade of Ruusan and named him his son, recalled the fleeting moments where he'd felt love for Loske, and almost laughed at the words of wisdom Wyatt Morga , Alyson Halle , and Dak had tried in earnest to impart him with, and which he'd so brazenly ignored.

In his time, he had raised empires from nothing, and rendered obliteration onto those that stood against him. He had been both savior and oppressor, king and tyrant, messiah and damnation.

And for all of that, he was to die alone, with naught but regret, misery, and a traitor for company. It was what he deserved.

His vision was a mass of blurred images and incoherent lines, but he had enough strength to speak as his body grew tired and inert. "I've wanted to die-" his words were halted by a fit of bloody coughing. " - I've wanted to die for a very long time." He tried to fixate his gaze on his killer, but it was difficult to tell what he was looking at. "Y-you are like me, Adron. You may not know it, may wish to ignore it, but w-we are the same. We give our lives to our people, but really do it for ourselves. So we have s-some sense of worth. A p-p...purpose." he tried to reach out for the Sith Lord's boot, but he couldn't quite manage.

"T-the weight of our s-sins crash down on us eventually A-Adron." He drew in a shuddering breath, "Just a...matter of time." He tried to draw in another breath, but the blood filling his lungs made it near impossible. Aware of the coming end, Cedric drifted his eyes shut, and faded into oblivion.

Wilhelm simply stared out from his place beneath the chairs. His eyes were wide and glistened with tears, and his mouth was agape as he watched his father's body grow inert. He dared not make a noise, for if he did then that would mean this situation was entirely real, and his father was truly dead. That couldn't be the case. The old man had just come into his life, and after his mother...

For the first time in his very short life, Wilhelm's fear gave way to hatred. A childish roar tore from his lips as he scrambled out from under the chair, limbs flailing ineffectively at the Sith Lord, any care for the crimson blade in the man's hands swept aside by a primal need for violence. He could speak no words, he could only scream as he punched at the man's legs, a bumbling mass of tears and ineffectuality.


Adron Malvern

 

[Adron Malvern]

REFORMATION​

Tags: Cedric Grayson ​

The feeling of the lightsaber piercing through Cedric caused Adron no grief, yet it did not bring about a great pleasure. The Dark Side within him surged at the blow done in anger and revenge, yet the Dark Side was not happiness. The Dark Side was an ocean of power, held back by a wall of emotion. It was that wall that determined the ebb and flow of the currents. So yes, power surged through Adron, but there was no happiness in the action. If anything, it felt like a sense of relief washed over him, for finally an old chapter of his life could close.

He felt Cedric's body begin to rest against him and his eyes rose to meet that of the dying Jedi's. Cedric's eyes had lost their fire, yet for a single moment he saw something in them. He saw the boy he had played with on Serenno while their father's discussed the future of their order. This was a welcomed sight, as it showed the closeness between what was and what is. It did not change anything, but it did make the moment a touch lighter. Adron listened to Cedric's final words without interruption. When Cedric's chest rose for the last time, Adron closed his eyes for but a shallow moment before whispering softly. "You fool. The Sith don't believe in things like that. The weight of a man's sins are nothing compared to the power they bring him. But...I guess our differences don't matter any longer, do they Cedric?"

He raised his eyes to see that Cedric's own had faded. With nothing more to be done, he withdrew the lightsaber from the man's chest, stepping to the side so the body could fall lifelessly to the ground.

What came next was something Adron sensed a second before it happened.

Anger.

The boy that Cedric had defended to his last breath finally sprang from the shadows with the fury of a star. He ran over to Adron and through the King's men moved to intercept him Adron held a hand out at them to halt their advance.

He allowed it.

Pitiful though it was, the boy's tear-filled fit was understandable. Small arms slammed into Adron's side and though they did nearly nothing to him, he did shift about a bit. Only so that the lightsaber in his hands would be clear from the boy's flailing arms. With a low buzz the weapon died in his hands and with his free hand he gestured to Wilhelm. The Force exploded out, wrapping itself around the boy and pulling him from his feet, causing him to float into the air a few feet from Adron.

For a spare moment Adron saw himself in the boy. A boy whose entire life had been ripped apart by a merciless galaxy. Striking down all family and loved ones until all that remained was a shell of power and anger. The difference between the two?

Adron had been exploited in his time of anger and weakness. No one had cared to show him the path that led to power, only servitude, Yet, this boy could very well become something more than his father, perhaps even something more than Adron.

"He's dead, boy. Don't waste your time mourning him because he understood what it means to live and die. Your father was a warrior and his final will was that you were to live where he fell." Adron took a step forward, reaching out and grabbing Wilhelm's jaw, forcing him to look at the body that laid on the ground before him. "This is what it means to be powerless. This is weakness. Watching those you love die while you sit whimpering in the shadows like a scared welp." The Sith Lord hissed, before releasing the boy.

Wilhelm would fall back to the hard, cold floor only a few feet from his father's body. When he looked to Adron again, he would see the man's back.

"Take the boy to my ship and have him fed and showered. Order all record of this ship destroyed and have the navicomputer stripped of it's memory just in case." Adron glanced back down to Cedric's body before muttering to one of his own Knights. "Have the body taken to Ruusan. Burn it on a hill."

"Your Majesty, what about the ship?" One of the Guardsmen asked, but Adron only cared to answer him as he made his way out of the hold. "Destroy it."

Two members of the Illyrian Riflemen stepped towards the boy, locking their hands around his arms and pulling him from his father's body. It would quickly become apparent to Wilhelm that his life was being ripped from this very room. Where it would go? That remained uncertain.
​

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[Cedric Grayson]

"He's dead, boy."

The murderer's words felt distant as Wilhelm felt himself wretched up from the floor. He flailed about in futility, his feet kicking out violently for any purchase. They found none. He instinctively jerked his head away from the body that lay inert on the floor, but the murderer forced him to look. The image of his father's eviscerated body burned itself into the boy's memory as he stared with wide, terrified eyes at his progenitor. Slowly, his sobbing grew managed, and an uncomfortable silence fell about the room.

"This is what it means to be powerless. This is weakness. Watching those you love die while you sit whimpering in the shadows like a scared welp." The murderer's words thundered in Wilhelm's ears. He felt something in his chest, as if his heart were falling into the chasms of his stomach. It was an emptiness his young mind could scarcely comprehend, let alone understand or put into words.

Whatever fire of hope the child might have had was snuffed out by a few choice words from Adron Malvern . He ceased his struggling, his body going slack as he prepared himself for his own inevitable end.

But it did not come.

Confusion was plain across the boy's features as he was lowered to the ground. He looked up to the King of Illyria, eyes narrowed like pinpricks of flint as he tried to understand what was happening.

"Why won't you kill me too?" He demanded as the guards stepped forward to escort him away. He resisted the guiding hand of one of the men and stared defiantly up at Adron, his confusion giving way to outrage. "You Sith already killed my mom, I don't have anyone else! I'm alone! Why?!"

The empyrean shifted, like a gust of warm air at sea just before a storm came raging in. The boy's hands balled up into fists as he continued to stare up at Adron, and for the first time in his life, Wilhelm experienced his family's gift and curse.

Invisible tendrils of energy reached out from him to wrap around the two guards that had moved to escort him away. They would halt where they stood as their armor grew inert around them, and then began to vibrate violently. Cracks fomented in the seams, and one of the helmets began to dent inward as if to crush the man's skull.

And then the fury died.

His brief moment of defiance wavered as the reality of his situation began to set in. The telekinetic tendrils faded into oblivion, and with them, so too did the fire with which Wilhelm had meant to oppose his father's murderer.

Despite his pain, despite the unimaginable loss, some small part of Wilhelm wanted to live, and he hated himself for it.

The boy's gaze fell to the floor as his shoulders slumped. He turned to do as the guards bid him, any thought of resistance shoved into the darkest corners of his mind.

Adron Malvern

 

[Adron Malvern]

LIFE​

Tags: Cedric Grayson ​

As Adron turned from the boy he heard the question that gave him pause. Why spare him? Well, even Sith had their lines that they would draw, some of them at least.

He turned back to face the young boy before scoffing at his words, as if they were nothing more than the mere ramblings of a child. They were not far from it. "You have not yet lived nearly enough life to earn a death by my hands." The boy responded that he was alone and he spoke of the mother he had lost to the hands of the Sith. Adron felt little in regards to sympathy yet there was some empathy there in how the boy must feel.

"I'm allowing you to live because one day you may grow powerful enough to destroy all those who wronged you. It is then that you will decide whether or not your life has worth, now is not that time." He told the boy before turning out of the hold.

That was when the Force rushed like hellfire hoping to consume a soul. The Dark Side seeped out of the boy in slow steady waves, to the point where Adron's feet slowed to a halt. His hand instinctively clenched into a balled fist, his body preparing to retaliate against the child's own exertion into the Dark Side. The guards who moved to take the boy felt their armor convulse unnaturally, causing them to step back from the boy, one man even dropped the blaster rifle in his hands. However as soon as it had started, it ended.

Adron said nothing, he merely continued down the hall.

The Riflemen who approached Cedric took no chances. One of them stepped behind him and brought the butt of his rifle down on the back of the boy's neck, knocking him out cold.

Everything would fade. Only darkness remained.

Two weeks later
​

Young Wilhelm had been taken from everything he's known. In the following week there had been reports of Cedric Greyson's ship exploding thousands of star systems away from the Royal Illyrian System. Shortly before that, the Jedi Master's body was secreted off to Russan to be laid to rest by members of Adron's own guard.

As for Wilhelm, he had been taken to L'enfer, Illyria's Orbital Defense Platform that served as both a military space station and a civilian inprocessing center. The boy had been kept under a heavy guard since he was brought to the space station. Still, his lodgings were convenient. Adron had allowed the boy to take on one of the guest quarters designed for foreign diplomats and officials awaiting entry onto the planet. Although his vents were sealed and all means of communications were severed, the small apartment was really quite pleasant and even had a wonderful view of Illyria herself.

On the fourteenth day Adron would return. The door to the apartment would shift open and two members of the Royal Guard would step inside. The Sith Lord followed behind them, wearing a silk suit of amethyst and black, the colors of his Royal House. In his hands was a medium sized box, which he set on the table beside the door. He turned his back to Wilhelm while making a gesture to his guard. Without pause or rebuttal each of the men turned to leave the room, the door closing with a snap behind them.

"What is your name, boy?" Adron demanded, his attention set on the metal box he had set on the table.
​

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[Cedric Grayson]

The bump on the back of his head was nearly gone by now.

Wilhelm rubbed at the sore flesh, irritating the red spot in the process. It had become something of a nervous tick since he'd been placed in the apartment. The room was quite unlike anything Wilhelm had ever experienced before. Up until now, his life had been one of a farmhand, and the ranch his mother owned had been far and away from any sort of civilization. The only time they ever saw other people was when they headed into town for supplies, and even then they never lingered for long.

Now he was stuck in the midst of humanity and all that came with it. The mass of life all around him had been overwhelming at first. Just as his father and his ancestors had been, Wilhelm was blessed with the touch of the empyrean. It was something he never noticed in the seclusion of his mother's ranch. He'd felt a connection to the life bustling around him, but that had been of a natural sort. The emotions the beasts felt were simple and pure: easily grasped for a child his age.

The complexities of sentient life were far beyond his scope. For the first few days, he'd been content to hide in one corner of the room, hands balled over his temples as he tried to shut out the presences he felt around him. When the servants drew near, he could feel their emotions as if they were own, and even caught a stray thought or two that he'd initially thought to be a sign of an early descent into lunacy. It was only after a particularly brief conversation with one of the servants that Wilhelm understood the voices were not coming from his head, but rather the inklings of those around him.

He'd learned to shut them out to a degree, but even now, as the doors opened and the guards stepped forth, Wilhelm could hear whispers of judgement and discontent in the corners of their minds.

It was a wholly unpleasant affair, but it kept his mind off his current circumstances. That was enough.

His lips pressed into a thin line as the murderer entered the room. The man had said he did not wish Wilhelm killed, and had then abandoned him in a strange place for what felt like a month to the boy.

Was he a captive? A hostage to be bartered? Why would the man come now after his long absence?

Wilhelm did his best to push those questions aside, and instead acknowledged the Sith Lord with wary eyes and a stoic expression, just as he'd seen his father adopt before a confrontation. Some things were just genetic.

"Wilhelm Grayson," he muttered, obeying if only to preserve his own life. "Ma said it was just Grey, but I think she did that to keep me safe." His gaze fell to the case Adron had set before him, and willed the memories of his mother that came with her mention away. The boy hesitated before asking, "Who are you? Where is this place?"

Adron Malvern

 

[Adron Malvern]

POWER​

Tags: Cedric Grayson ​

The Illyrian King tapped a button which caused the top of the box to open. The metallic walls folded into themselves to reveal an interesting set of equipment. A caffe set. It was only a few minutes before the man was setting the small metal pot to brew a fresh batch of caffe. As Wilhelm spoke, Adron's ears burned at the rural, outer-rim gutter accent that spilled through the boy's lips. "Your mother." He corrected. "Not your 'Ma." Wilhelm, a strong name. After the pot had finished, Adron poured two cups and he exhaled at the boy's line of questioning.

"Ask questions one at a time, boy. Slurring multiple questions together reveals an abundance of ignorance. Showing too much ignorance at any one moment will make people either think you are a fool or that you can be easily deceived." He held out one of the cups to the boy before gesturing to a chair that sat near a metallic desk in the room. "Sit down." He told him.

"My name is Adron Malvern, King of Illyria and Exarch of The Confederacy. This place? This is L'enfer, an orbital battle station above the world I rule over." He told the child.

"For me this place is nothing more than a waystation I use to inspect the people who wish to visit my planet. For you this place will serve as a crossroads, a place where you will be presented with two paths and choose one."

"Now you are too young to understand this now but there is a war in this galaxy Wilhelm and it is a war your father and I have been fighting for years. However, long ago we both decided on a certain way we would fight the war. This was what caused our paths to separate and that is also why I killed him."

"Your father is dead Wilhelm, so is your mother, and they will never return to your side as you once had them." The man spoke without a harsh tone, yet it was matter of factually. "You will always miss them and only in some few quiet moments will you enjoy the memories you once shared with them, the rest of your memory of them will be plagued in pain."

"Now by my word I have not harmed you and I have no intentions to. However your future is for you to walk. Now if you wish it I can supply you with a transport and have you shipped to some quiet corner of the galaxy where you can be taken as an adoptee to some inbred Bantha farmers. I am sure they will love you very much and you will live a relatively quiet and uneventful life. You will grow old and die and with your death, your family will turn to dust in the winds of the Galaxy."

"Your second option is to remain with me." He revealed. "The man who murdered your father in cold blood." He said.

"I sense your anger, it festers inside of you like an infection. If you remain with me I will show you how to control your anger, focus it, and turn it into a weapon to unleash on your enemies. I will give you power, Wilhelm. In exchange for that power you will help me destroy my own enemies and bring about order where I deem it is required."

"Perhaps one day you will even become strong enough to destroy me yourself." His tone held a condescending tease to it, yet there was not a hint of a falsehood within it. "What will it be, Wilhelm? Power or the Bantha farmers?" He asked interestedly.
​

​

 

[Cedric Grayson]

The catch on his 'bumpkin' accent took the boy off guard, but he adjusted quickly. Before the ranch, he and his mother had traveled through many systems to escape the prying gaze of the Sith Empire. The several million credits promised for his father's head made anyone of blood relation a target for all intents and purposes, and they'd rarely stayed in one place long. The boy had mastered the art of adaptation in the process, and they had only stopped on Dantooine because it barely had anyone living on it to begin with.

It seemed that choice to settle had been their greatest mistake.

"Mother," Wilhelm corrected himself, nodding obediently to the Sith Lord. If he chose dissidence, he would likely be killed, a fate that he'd unfortunately decided was not worth the validation of defiance.

He listened in attentive silence as the King of Illyria spoke his piece. Just as he'd flooded the Sith Lord with questions, so too had Adron returned with a surge of answers. The man's words sent his mind spinning.

He could simply go? He was not a captive? His life was not to be one of a slave?

The boy stared down at the cup of caf that was offered as he took a seat, his small frame barely filling up the chair. He'd always been little for his age. "I..." the booy hesitated as he sipped at the caf. The drink was far too hot and far too bitter for his tastes, but he drank anyway for the sake of politeness.

His mother had warned him of power: of how it had corrupted his grandfather, and forced his own father to live a life away from his progeny. She'd spoken of it as if it were a curse, and given all that had happened, Wilhelm was inclined to agree with her.

"Ma -....Mother never wanted me fighting in any wars. She said it was just a way for men to die feeling like they were important. S'why she didn't care for the old man too much when he went off to fight." Wilhelm mumbled, his gaze finally leaving the cup to meet Adron's gaze.

As he looked into the Sith Lord's eyes, his mother's words of caution were cast to the dark corners of his mind, replaced by the images of both his parents murdered at the hands of Lords of the Sith.

If there was a war being fought, then Wilhelm knew who his enemies were now.

"They didn't die for nothing," he spoke, his tiny voice taking on a hint of resolution despite its high pitch. "And...and if I don't do anything then they did die for nothing. I can't just be normal anymore I don't think. I have to avenge them, I have to..." his brow furrowed. "Well, I dunno know yet. Something. I'll figure out, but I guess power is what I need to do anything really."

A long pause and a pregnant silence filled the room. The boy grit his teeth as he warred between his infantile ideals. He couldn't go back to ranch life now, not after everything that had happened, after everything he had seen. Not without Ma.

"My old man was a Jedi right?" He asked suddenly. "I don't know anything about them other than that they're sorcerers. Same with the Sith, but I've seen enough of what they can do to people." The boy's voice cracked momentarily, "I don't care what you are Mister Malvern, and I don't care what the man was that killed my mom. I know his face, and I know yours." For a child, he still managed a disturbing implication of threat in his tone.

"If you teach me magic like my father had, I'll do what you want. I have to be strong. Stronger than anyone else. I have to...but," a final pause, "Why did you kill my father if you fought the same war? I don't understand."

Adron Malvern

 

[Adron Malvern]

YOUNG WOLF​

Tags: Cedric Grayson ​

The young boy had a certain resolve. It was something that even Adron could admire in a boy as young as he was. The man's lips curled up into an amused smile when the boy said he knew Adron's face. He held the smirk for a few moments before nodding at Wilhelm's words, almost approvingly. "Be sure you do not forget it." Even at his young age, Wilhelm seemed to understand the value of power and what it stood for, this would be enough to start his training and having him exposed to the greater Force.

Adron took another measured sip from his cup of cafe. He listened to the boy's words and found the question an appropriate one. There were few who hated the Sith Empire and their various cells anymore than Adron Malvern. It had been years since they levied their forces against Serenno, striking down a noble house and forcing his surviving family into exile.

"You could call it unfortunate circumstance. At a time when my world was under siege by the Sith Empire, your father was away from the territories we attempted to keep from their clutches. The planet fell and my family was forced into exile. Years ago your father explained to me that his disappearance was necessary for our war against the Sith. When I went into exile I swore that for what had happened to my world three people would die. The Sith Emperor, that foolish Sith woman who claimed my planet as her own, and your father."

Adron turned from the boy, setting the cup of cafe on the counter before gesturing for Wilhelm to follow. "I'll tell you the whole story another time. For now we have work to do."

"Wilhelm Grey. That is the name you will use from now on. Greyson is not a name that will bring you anything good in the life ahead of you." He explained to the boy.

"Before we can hope to provide that tiny vessel of yours with any true power you'll need a proper education and your body will need to be conditioned. Normally I'd have you sent to the Royal Academy for proper instruction, however I believe I know of another path." He explained.
​

​

 

[Cedric Grayson]

Intelligent as he might have been, Wilhelm lacked the experience to properly understand the nuance of Adron's situation. He felt some of his resentment toward the Sith Lord ebb as the Illyrian King explained the reasoning behind his father's murder. He didn't agree with it, and certainly didn't understand the gravity of either his father's actions or Adron's own, but he understood the sentiment. At the very least, the fact that the old man had been killed out of something one might consider a genuine reason set him at ease, if only slightly.

"Unfortunate circumstance," he murmured, his eyes narrowed as he stared down into his own cup of caf and tried to mull that one over. The issue quickly proved too complex for his young and inattentive mind, and he quickly looked back up to the Sith Lord, confusion and curiosity plain across his youthful feature. "I've been going with Grey for awhile now. Doesn't bother me none."

The boy paused as he took another short, bitter sip of his drink. The unpleasant flavor had not dulled, but he could feel the affects of the caffeine. It felt as if his body were filled with energy, and that energy needed to go...somewhere. It resulted in both his legs bouncing rather quickly and a bit loudly, and a thin smile that was entirely unrelated to the topic at hand.

"Royal Academy sounds fancy, but I never really liked fancy," he mumbled, legs bouncing away, "What were you thinking boss?"

Adron Malvern