A/N: To those confused about what happened to lead to the start of this chapter: I updated Chapter 3 so that it includes the events on Geonosis.


Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars. Please don't sue me as I have no money.


The Reprisal of the Force

Chapter 4

Perspectives: Sev'rance Tann


The Rogue-Class Heavy Fighter was a cumbersome ship, sacrificing speed for heavy firepower as the name suggested. Still, it served as a faster-than-average way to get across the galaxy, when one did not want to deal with moving a cumbersome frigate about.

Sev'rance, trusted lieutenant of Count Dooku, Dark Side adept, and soon-to-be Supreme Commander of the Separatist Armada (or so she suspected), dropped her large fighter out of hyperspace. Before her was the verdant planet of Serenno, the spiritual capital of the Alliance and home of her master. The leviathan Providence, an aptly named Providence carrier, stood out among far smaller frigates and cruisers. Even from here, kilometres away, Sev'rance could sense her Master's admirable presence in the Force. However, there was another with him… Someone of a rival power…

She suspected, at first, that it was another adept of the Dark Side. While Sev'rance knew she was not the only one, she had suspected she was the strongest given her position. That thought was discarded, however, as she soon sensed the sickening light this figure clung to. A Jedi, no doubt, but why was there one of their dogmatic order aboard the Count's flagship?

Her musings were cut off by the man himself, appearing in the form of a hologram on the console before her.

"Sev'rance, you've made good time, as expected," The deceptively elderly man said pleasantly, dipping his head in a greeting. He seemed in high spirits, despite the fact that Geonosis had fallen to the Republic and the fact that the Republic now had a massive army of slave soldiers.

"I live to please, Master," Sev'rance responded with a subservient tone, bowing her own head in deference. Her words barely seemed to register to the typically self-aggrandizing Count, as he continued as if she hadn't spoken.

"Board the Providence and come to the observation deck. I would like to introduce you to my guest." And without waiting for a response, Dooku ended the call. He had already begun turning, likely to address the 'guest' before even ending the call. Sev'rance grit her teeth in irritation, disliking the feelings that rose at being snubbed so thoroughly by her Master. Whoever was on the observation deck must truly be enthralling if they so easily grabbed Dooku's attention.

Sev'rance's fighter glided into the hangar bay of the carrier, setting down in the middle of the area without a single concern for the droids trying to move ammunition and vulture droids.

Gracefully vaulting out of the now open cockpit of her craft and sliding down the wing, Sev'rance completely ignored the approaching security droids and stormed out of the hangar.

Despite the fact that the hallways were all completely identical, Sec'rance found her way to the elevator up to the observation deck with minimal difficulty. Her temper had fallen to a simmer, successfully pressed down so as not to draw the ire of the ageing Count. Despite the decades that separated them, he could handily beat her in a duel if he so chose.

The elevator arrived at the floor, and Sev'rance found herself greeted by the robotic bodyguards of Dooku. Both, adorned in gold and white and cloaks, were armed with deactivated staves. One of them greeted her in their incomprehensible language and stepped aside, allowing her access to the adjoining hallway.

Pointedly ignoring her audaciously yellow shadows, Sev'rance walked along the short hallway to the catwalk overlooking the observation deck. The deck was as expansive as it was extravagant, holding banners and statues from the noble house of Dooku, no doubt. The centre of the room was devoid of such expensive decorations, however. To one end was an ostentatious seat in which Dooku sat. Before him, wearing brown, hooded robes, was another figure. He was tall and built well, speaking of a life mixed with hardships and physical activity. The most telling sign of what this person was, however, happened to be the silver hilt at their hip.

"Sev'rance," Dooku said in greeting, his voice rising from the hushed conversation he was having with the robed figure to address her, "May I introduce the newest member of our Confederacy, Anakin Skywalker."

Sev'rance was working her way down the stairs as the figure turned and, for a moment, she was taken aback by how young he looked. There was still a roundness to parts of his face, speaking of someone barely out of their teens if even that. Yet, his stature and expression spoke of someone so confident with himself that he could be mistaken as an older man.

His hair was short and clearly regulated, he couldn't have been more than a Padawan if he was a Jedi.

"Anakin, Sev'rance Tann. She is one of my most trusted lieutenants," Dooku explained to his 'guest'. Anakin, for his part, began to look Sev'rance over after bowing his head in greeting. His eyes, however, were calculated as the Jedi seemed to size her up. Clearly not seeing Sev'rance as a threat, the Jedi visibly relaxed her shoulders and turned his attention back to Dooku.

Sev'rance fought back a sneer, immediately realizing this Jedi was going to see himself as her rival. Her hand twitched towards her lightsaber, and action she was not able to stop. The barest, unbearably cocky smirk graced Skywalker's features as he caught the movement, clearly proud he was causing Tann anger.

"A pleasure, Commander Tann." Skywalker's tone was decidedly neutral and spoke of a man used to sparring with words. While Tann was no Luddite in the arena of wordplay, she certainly couldn't compare to her Master. The only thought she had when hearing Skywalker's soothing tone was one of resignation.

Oh great, She thought bitterly as she approached, Another one.

"The pleasure is all mine," She lied as easily as she breathed, her own tone coming across as clipped before she knelt before Dooku. The amusement emanating from the two men- no, from the man and boy, only served to spike her anger before Sev'rance brutally crushed it back down.

"Rise, my young apprentice." Came Dooku's ever cultured response, allowing Sev'rance to rise again and face the two men.

"Perhaps I should explain why young Skywalker is joining us today," Dooku announced once Sev'rance had righted herself, indicating with one hand towards the suspected Jedi, "Mister Skywalker was, until three days ago, a Jedi Padawan of one Obi-Wan Kenobi."

Sev'rance found herself lost for a moment, finding the name of Skywalker's former Master familiar yet unknown. After that moment passed, she was hit with a realisation.

"Kenobi was… Qui-Gon Jinn's apprentice?" Sev'rance asked tentatively, remembering Dooku mentioning as much some time ago. Dooku gave a slight nod at her answer, finding it satisfactory.

"Indeed. Young Skywalker shares many of our movement's ideals about the Republic and Jedi Order, as well as the status of going's on in the Outer Rim territories."

So he was another naive fool tricked by the altruistic aims of the Separatists? Sev'rance had expected as much from a Jedi but was caught her off-guard were the trace emotions coming from Dooku. He felt jealous and almost… shameful? They were trace, hidden beneath the flow ego and culture. Sev'rance only noticed it due to her constant exposure to the man.

Why would Dooku be jealous or shameful in regards to Skywalker's idealism and naivete? Granted, Dooku seemed to believe in the Separatists in some part, but as of late he was using the power granted to him to his own ends.

"Is that so," Sev'rance drawled, trying her damndest to keep the worst of her contempt from her voice as she eyed Skywalker with suspicion, "Another devotee of the failing Order shown the light?"

"Do not mistake my being here as falling to the Dark, Acolyte," Skywalker's voice took a hardened edge, "I may despise what Dooku has become, but I support his cause."

Sev'rance was so taken aback by the sudden hostility, as she had gained to warning through the Force, that she didn't immediately pick up the insulting manner he called her 'Acolyte'. When she did, however, Tann's hand shot to her lightsaber. Her hand was stayed only by a sharp glance from Dooku, who, despite seeming relaxed, was prepared to jump in at a moment's notice.

"Enough. There is enough grandstanding in this Confederacy without the two of you adding to it." Came Dooku's almost dismissive tone, though his excitement was palpable. Sev'rance couldn't really see why, but she wasn't given much time to think on it as Skywalker was speaking again.

"I am doing no such thing. I stand by what I say, and while I can accept what you have become, I find her constitution… lacking. You have your morals, what does she have?" Skywalker jerked a thumb is Sev'rance's direction, earning a growl of barely restrained fury from the Sith Adept.

"Power." Was her ground out response, earning a deprecating laugh from Skywalker and a small smirk from Dooku. Sev'rance's fury was reaching critical mass, so much so that she was about ready to launch herself at Skywalker, consequences be damned.

"Power? Is it 'power' to enslave yourself to an idea? To another being?" Skywalker asked almost conversationally, walking away from Dooku with his hands folded behind his back. Still, his stance spoke of someone ready to jump into combat at a moment's notice.

Had Sev'rance been in the right mind, she would have responded with some snappy retort, playing this duel of words. However, shameful as it was to admit, Skywalker had pushed the right buttons to make her unreasonably angry. She only made an inarticulate snarl, drawing her lightsaber.

To her surprise, Dooku did nothing, merely watching with a face coloured with amusement. Sev'rance didn't care and waved away the tendril of doubt filling her mind. She ignited her lightsaber, its crimson glow casting the grey room in a red glow. Skywalker, with an almost practised nonchalance, activated his own blue lightsaber and letting it hand at his side. Sev'rance was caught off guard, unable to recognise any discernable form or stance Skywalker was using. While one could very liberally call it an opening to Makashi, albeit one heavily altered from the original, but Skywalker's footing was all wrong.

He was… Force, he wasn't even taking her seriously enough to use a proper opening stance! With a snarl of rage, Sev'rance threw herself at Skywalker with the help of the Force, looking for a clean, decapitating blow. She wanted to see the moment of shock on that painfully smug face, to see fear fill his eyes as-

A flash of violet blinded Sev'rance as Skywalker easily blacked her strike, his lightsaber casting his face in blue light. Twisting his lightsaber, while keeping Sev'rance pinned in place as she hadn't fixed her footing after her suicidal charge, Skywalker used his off-hand and struck her sternum with his palm.

Sev'rance stumbled back gasping in a new breath as Skywalker forced the last from her. Skywalker was not tempted to give her that moment's reprieve, however, and followed after her at a brisk stride. He opened with a heavy overhead strike, once again not revealing a specific form. Sev'rance fell back on her classical training with the second form and ducked to one side, letting Skywalker's blade slide uselessly against hers.

Side stepping with a spin, Sev'rance danced her way out of Skywalker's immediate field of view and aimed for his extended arms. Again, he moved impossibly fast and managed to loop his sabre over his right shoulder, catching Sev'rance's blade. Twisting, with his outer robe billowing out around him, Skywalker aimed a bisecting slash at Sev'rance. It was child's play to dodge, she merely had to jump back, but it gave Skywalker breathing room enough to face her again. The smug confidence from before was gone, replaced only by a cool determination and unshakable concentration. Sev'rance bared her teeth at such a stereotypical display from a Jedi.

With one hand still holding his blue sabre before him, Skywalker, grabbed one end of his robes and threw them off. The inner robes were far more befitting a duel, loose yet far less flowing.

"Your anger makes you weak, Tann," Skywalker spoke with confidence born of experience, a certainty that caused even Sev'rance a moment of hesitation, "It makes you uncontrollable; wild, but above all else: predictable."

"My hate makes me strong, Jedi," Sev'rance responded, readying herself to spring at the Jedi. She knew what the Jedi was doing, it was a tactic Dooku used all the time in his lessons: keep talking to throw the opponent off of their game.

"Then strike me down," Was his four-word response. Skywalker didn't wait for Sev'rance to attack this time. His strikes came like a wave and at such a speed that Sev'rance could not dodge. She fell into a bastardized version of Form 3, mostly out of desperation to survive Skywalker's unrelenting onslaught.

Skywalker was using an adapted version of Djem-So, or so Sev'rance suspected. The complete lack of footwork beyond the aggressive and his favouring of two-handed swings spoke of that. Djem-So had many exploitable weaknesses, namely that it lacked much in terms of quick movement or defensive capabilities. It compensated for that by always keeping its opponent on the backstep.

Sev'rance could feel her arms weakening under the Jedi's blows, each aiming to kill her quick and brutal fashion. Loath though she was to admit it, Skywalker was extremely skilled with his blade. Yet… with each of his strikes, he did not feel any closer to the Dark. Such aggression was against his precious Code, yet all she sensed from him was concentration and determination.

Narrowly avoiding another slash, Sev'rance put some distance between them so as to catch her breath. Skywalker allowed this, giving his blade a few flourishes in a taunting gesture.

"Is this the strength of the Dark side, girl? A few minutes of pitiful defence?" Skywalker asked, walking with his off arm facing her; an insult that spoke of how he saw her skill.

The audacity of this Jedi, not only did he look no older than twenty, but to see her as such a minor threat-

Sev'rance lashed out with her blade, hoping to catch Skywalker in his own trap. It was not to be, Skywalker leaning back and letting the weapon pass uselessly through the air. A flash of blue sent her lightsaber wide, followed closely by a vicious backhand that sent her stumbling back a few paces.

The first strike of this duel, and it was an almost negligent strike. Skywalker could have killed her then, Sev'rance knew that strike was risky and she was caught for it, but he just let her escape unscathed again.

What was his game?!

Sev'rance knew how this would end, she lacked the endurance to face Skywalker on his own terms. He was too strong and fast, she would need to force him to attack her. Despite the speed at which he fought, Skywalker was still using Djem-So. It was predictable, aggressive, and predictably aggressive. All she needed was an opening.

Sev'rance lowered her saber into a vertical, two-handed grip, taking deep, calming breaths. Skywalker wanted her angry, he wanted her to lash out and lose concentration. Sev'rance couldn't overpower or outspeed him, but she could outsmart him.

Skywalker took several long strides forwards, Sev'rance noting in some small part of her mind that he hadn't run during their entire match, and raised her lightsaber in a vicious vertical strike. Sev'rance ducked right, making it seem she was going one way. Skywalker corrected his swing accordingly, but the slight widening in his eyes as he realized Sev'rances move was just a feint was delicious.

A perfected twirl found Sev'rance in Skywalker's guard on his right. His overextended arms were the perfect target for her last strike. Her humming lightsaber slashed up and… found nothing. Skywalker released his lightsaber and threw his arms up in an almost comical pose, throwing his weight back on one leg. His lightsaber seemed to float for the barest moment before deactivating and plummeting towards the deck. Sev'rance released her lightsaber with one hand and reached for Skywalker's, perfectly happy to claim victory that way. She would never admit it, but a duel with Skywalker was the closest to death she had gotten in a long-

As her hand wrapped around the slightly warm grip of Skywalker's lightsaber, a pressure on Sev'rance right hand told her Skywalker was far from done. A strike at the back of her hand saw Sev'rance's hand slackening enough to allow her lightsaber to escape. With a sleight of hand she didn't expect from him, Skywalker stole her lightsaber just as Sev'rance stole his.

Sev'rance ended her spin with the wrong lightsaber in her off-hand as Skywalker corrected his back-peddle. Her lightsaber looked hilariously thin in his gloved grip. At least, it would be funny was it not for the hilt of his lightsaber being far too large for her comparatively lithe and small hands.

Somewhere outside their arena, Sev'rance could only just make out a chuckle from Doku, though she was perhaps imagining that. Sev'rance tried to find a way to properly grip the lightsaber while Skywalker tossed hers from hand to hand, testing his grip.

Finally finding a way to grip the blast weapon where she didn't feel like a child playing with a toy, Sev'rance adopted an opening stance more attuned to Ataru than Makashi. Frankly, the unwieldy nature of Skywalker's weapon made her favoured form impossible.

Skywalker, to her surprise, opening with a, albeit very basic, Makashi salute. No flourishes or added gestures, just bringing her lightsaber from his face to his side. It came as a surprise that someone of Skywalker's stature and chosen style had any competence in Form 2, but yet again much of the fight had served as a surprise for Sev'rance.

Skywalker advanced at his brisk walk again, and Sev'rance rushed to meet him. Skywalker, despite using a form highly dependent on fast footwork and parrying, seemed rooted in a small area of movement. His stolen lightsaber was still little more than a blur of red, meeting Sev'rance's aggressive strikes with negligible swings and blocks. Sev'rance had seen only one other person fight like that, and it was when Dooku was attempting to teach a lesson or just toying with his opponent. Yet, where Dooku seemed so graceful and dauntless in his movements, Skywalker was too rigid, overcompensating where it wasn't necessary and under compensating where he shouldn't.

And as sudden as this second round started, it ended. Skywalker simply wasn't mobile enough to properly utilize Makashi. Using her lightsaber as a distraction, Sev'rance kicked Skywalker in the sternum, pushing Skywalker a pace or two back and knocking the air from his lungs. Gasping for breath, Skywalker was ill-suited to stop her next slash.

"Tann!" Dooku snapped, stopping Sev'rance short of decapitating her opponent. Skywalker looked at the glowing blade of his lightsaber, which was no more than a few centimetres from his face, with caution. Sev'rance hesitated on moving her weapon, she wanted so desperately to teach Skywalker a lesson for his insolence, to give in to her hate and anger. It was the reprisal form Dooku that she feared, however. He clearly saw Skywalker as some personal project,a nd did not want him killed so early.

Hesitantly, Sev'rance deactivated her stolen lightsaber and stepped back, both physically and mentally. She dragged her anger back and forced herself into some mockery of calm, though she nearly lost her temper at the confident smirk that graced Skywalker's features.

"You have trained her well, Count," Skywalker insulted- wait.

"She still has much to learn, but she has come far from the disaster she started in," Dooku responded calmly, rising from his throne and approaching the duo with his arms hidden beneath his back. Sev'rance merely stared at the two in confusion, wondering if this was either some kind of massive joke or a test of sorts. What in the name of Csilla's frozen plains is going on here?!

"We never stop having things to learn, Count," Skywalker responded with an equal tone, looking down at Sev'rance's lightsaber before, almost as an afterthought, tossing it back to her. Sev'rance, not wanting to seem the sore winner, followed suit with his lightsaber. Her grip was warm, but the familiar weapon took an edge off of her tension.

"That sounds like the sort of maddening nonsense Master Yoda would spout, you did not strike me as the sort to take his lessons to heart."

"Sometimes it pays to listen," Sev'rance knew she was missing context in this conversation, and neither Skywalker nor Dooku seemed inclined to give her the missing information.

"So you say. Leave us, I wish to speak to General Tann in private."

"Of course, Count," Skywalker bowed low and turned, heading towards the exit of the room without a word. The Magneguards, who Sev'rance had only just remembered were even there, turned and followed Skywalker back up. SKywalker slowed only to collect his robes, flinging them over one shoulder before disappearing up the catwalk.

Neither Dooku nor Sev'rance spoke until they heard the sound of the elevator leaving and the Magneguards returning to their stations. Finally, Dooku let out a sound that was a mix between a sigh and growl. The man pinched his nose in a clear sign of agitation.

"What a painfully irritating child," It was a sentiment Sev'rance shared, though she did not voice as much and instead waited for her Master to continue. Dooku spent a long minute wallowing in his annoyance before turning and returning to his seat.

"We've already passed the introductions stage, so I will forgo his background. Skywalker shares many of the stated goals of the Confederacy, but I trust him no more than I would trust Nute Gunray with the running of this war," Dooku stated as he lowered himself into his seat, scowling in the direction that Skywalker left.

"Then why is he still alive?" Sev'rance asked, earning another drawn-out sigh from Dooku.

"I have sensed no duplicity from him. What's more, he is immensely powerful and skilled, as he has proved here," Dooku indicated vaguely towards the observation-deck-turned-battleground. Sev'rance narrowed her eyes, only slightly self-conscious over her near-defeat at the hands of a former Padawan.

"What will his place in this war be, Master?" Sev'rance asked, hoping to see if Dooku was scoping out a replacement for her and if she would need to deal with Skywalker sooner rather than later. To her surprise, Dooku let out a self-deprecating chuckle, leaning back in his seat and steepling his fingers.

"To be honest, his recruitment was a 'spur-of-the-moment' decision. I had been seeking to convert his Master, but that fell through. Kenobi is too blind to the Order to turn against them, but Skywalker… Tell me, did you know there was a prophecy in the Order that may pertain to him?"

"A… Prophecy?" Sev'rance repeated slowly, quick surprised by this revelation. She put very little stake in the ability to foresee the longterm future using the Force, as it was more often than not a completely unexpected change. Dooku was much the same, so she failed to see why that mattered.

"Indeed. To make a long story short, he is suspected to bring balance to the Force, whatever that may entail. The Jedi believe that means he will destroy the Sith." Dooku explained with an incredulous snort, clearly finding the Jedi's belief superstitious nonsense.

"And what do you believe, my Master?" It was a risky venture, but Sev'rance was desperate to get a feel for what Dooku had planned for Skywalker.

"I believe it makes excellent propaganda that the Jedi's vaunted 'Chosen One' has flipped to our side at the opening of the War. Whether the prophecy is true or not is unimportant, what truly matters is that the Jedi believe it. It will sow dissent and indecision, and make many more question if they are truly in the right. However, wasting such a useful tool is not in my immediate interest. I am sending Skywalker to the Raxus Naval College to be properly trained in galactic combat," Dooku leaned forwards, and Sev'rance was off-put by the almost mischievous glint in his eye, "and I am sending you to oversee and train with him."

The final declaration was like a hammer blow to Sev'rance's ego.

"Master?!" Was all the response that Sev'rance could formulate immediately. Dooku remained silent, patiently waiting for Sev'rance to get her thoughts together. It took a minute or so before she could properly voice her incredulity.

"My Lord, what of the war? Am I not to be the Supreme Commander? Am I not to lead the Separatist forces against the Republic? Am I not to face the Jedi?" Sev'rance pleaded though she would never admit as much to anyone. Dooku seemed unmoved, only displaying the barest amount of exasperation.

"When Skywalker agreed to join us, he made me realize something. If the Confederacy is to win this war, it needs to win the hearts and minds of the common people. I do not need warriors and butchers, I need leaders. I need those who believe and understand what this government was formed for. The fact that you still refer to it as a Separatist Alliance is proof enough that you do not truly understand. Go with Skywalker, learn from him, and prove to me that you can lead as well as fight."

Dooku's speech was met with horrified and furious silence from Sev'rance, who was once again found found without words. The audacity, the nerve- She was trained in the art of war from the prestigious academies on Csilla! What could she possibly learn from the boy Jedi, or from some corporate-funded military college?!

"Master, I-"

"This is not up for debate, Sev'rance. I do not fully trust Skywalker, but his ideals will win the support of moderates and neutrals alike. His shuttle is preparing to leave in fifteen minutes. I will be sorely disappointed if you are not on it."

Sev'rance gaped at her Master for several long seconds, but she was nowhere near suicidal enough to continue arguing with Dooku after such a clear dismissal. Giving a curt, silent bow, mostly because she did not trust her voice, Sev'rance left the observation deck as fast as she could without running.

Only when she was in the elevator did she let her emotions lash out. With a scream of pure, unadulterated fury, Sev'rance's fist collided with a column of lights on one wall. With the help of the force, they shattered and sent pieces flying every which way.

The sharp pain in her fist was yet another annoyance among the maelstrom of her fury. Sev'rance was beyond apoplectic, she was to the point that angry tears stung at her eyes and dared make themselves known. How pathetic, how humiliating!

Vandalor would recommend caution, to try and seek the lesson Dooku was trying to teach Sev'rance. He was cautious like that, but alas he was not here. Vandalor was on lease to Wat Tambor, Foreman of the Techno Union, and could not comfort Sev'rance in these trying times. She couldn't even use a communicator and open a channel with him, Vandalor was apparently doing more subversive work for the Union magnate.

Damn Tambor, damn Dooku, but above all else, damn Skywalker. Had he just died on Geonosis or not joined Dooku… If he hadn't reawoken Dooku's painfully Jedi desire to 'save' the poor Outer Rim denizens… If anything else had happened, Sev'rance would be enjoying a position of power at her Master's side.

Now? Now she was stuck playing part-student-part-teacher to the most painfully smug Jedi she had ever had the misfortune of meeting.

Even the droids seemed to sense Sev'rance's fury, for they avoided her at every chance. Upon entering the hangar, Sev'rance had decided to take her own fighter to Raxus, refusing to ride in a shuttle with Skywalker for several hours on sheer principle. Her dignity was already being shredded, could she not keep some small part of it?

Evidently not, as Sev'rance's parking job had annoyed some droid technician enough that they just loaded her fighter into the vulture droid storage and hid it deep in the bays of the Providence.

It would take hours of unloading all the previous vulture droids and hyena bombers to reach the Rogue-class, and Skywalker's shuttle would be leaving in mere minutes.

Sev'rance couldn't decide if she wanted to scream of cry in desperation, but alas, neither would help her in this situation. So, she trudged aboard Skywalker's blasted shuttle and sat across from Anakin-bloody-Skywalker.

Apparently, he could sense her barely controlled anger. Skywalker did not say a single word, just sitting cross-legged and meditating. Sev'rance found these arrangements perfectly acceptable, as she could glare at Skywalker and think of increasingly aggressive, and childish, threats.


The shuttle arrived on an orbital station over the surface of Raxus Secundus, the de facto capital of the Separatists. Though the Senate was still going through the processes of setting up on the planet, countless bureaucratic offices and military branches had already set up shop and claimed the best offices for themselves. Leviathan battleships and carriers orbit the planet, freshly painted in their Separatist blues and greens and bristling with enough firepower to make a Kuati Designer sweat.

Sev'rance had calmed somewhat by the time of their arrival, learning through one of the droid pilots that Skywalker would be receiving an extremely quick crash course in military leadership. A mere five months she would have to suffer, then Sev'rance would be free.

The orbital station, the titular Raxus Naval College, was guarded by a small armada of cruisers and defensive platforms, none of which reacted to the arrival of Skywalker and her's shuttle. They glided easily into the vast entry hangar of the station, dozens of fighters stacked into the ceiling and above.

The duo was greeted by several officials and their guards, red-marked security droids.

The first was an elderly neimoidian, adorned in fine robes of grey, blue, and green. The Separatist hexagon was the only defining feature of his robes that slated the being as a rebel. The sides of his eyes crinkled in distaste at seeing Sev'rance and Anakin, though his gaze seemed to linger more on their lightsabers than their faces.

To his right was a woman, severe but young, someone, who clearly took themselves very seriously; Sev'rance could relate. She stood a head shorter than even the Neimoidian, her strawberry-blond hair barely reaching his chin. Her uniform seemed to have formerly been that of a Republic officer, jodhpurs and all. She, too, bore the Separatist hexagon over her right breast.

The last was another human, a male this time and significantly older than his opposite number. This man was a giant in comparison to his comrades, with the nearest smirk on his lips and no small amount of amusement in his eyes. Though he wore a uniform similar to the woman, it bore the practicality of an Outer Rim soldier. No wasted space or over-the-top designs. Simple, ergonomic, and cheap.

"Master Skywalker, Commander Tann. Count Dooku informed us of your impending arrival," The Neimodian said as a greeting, inclining his head towards the two newcomers. Anakin returned the gesture with a bow while Sev'rance responded only with a curt nod, her irritation again making itself known.

"I am Rear Admiral Adull Shigbii. These are my associates, Captains Canea Gwam and Jalurru Jor." Admiral Shigbii explained, indicating first to the woman then to the man, "Am I to understand you are to be our students?"

"I will," Skywalker responded before Sev'rance could bite out an insulting reply, "Commander Tann is merely here to observe and keep an eye on me. I am honoured to be here, Admiral."

"A Jedi student," Jor chuckled, shaking his greying head in wonder and amusement, "That's not something you see every day."

Gwam merely scoffed in response, her upturned nose and superior look losing their lustre considering she was shorter than everyone present.

"Indeed? Very well. Commander Tann, OOM-15 will show you to where you will be staying for the duration of Master Skywalker's education here. Master Skywalker, please, follow me. We have much to discuss."

"Please, call me Anakin-"

The group walked off, leaving Sev'rance with a single red-marked droid. Had Sev'rance ego not already been thoroughly trounced over the last few hours, she would have felt the need to respond in anger. Now? Now, she just felt drained and exhausted.

"Please, follow me," The droid intoned monotonously, indicating towards a doorway in the hangar with wooden, sharp movements, and so she did.


There was neither sight nor sound of Skywalker for the remainder of the day, which was a boon for Sev'rance, as the less she saw of him the better. The room set aside for them, at the very least, had two separate sleeping areas. As if the humiliation of chasing after the heels of the former Padawan was not enough, now she had to share a living space with him. Vandalor would be laughing quite uproariously at Sev'rance's plight while trying to console her in the same breath.

When Skywalker did return, it was in the grey and blue uniform of a Separatist officer trainee, a single white bar on his chest alongside the hexagon. Though Sev'rance would never admit it, he did look quite sharp in that uniform. It certainly did him more favours than the loose, flowing robes of a Jedi.

"I see you've settled," Skywalker said in an even enough tone, though amusement lingered in his eyes. Sev'rance narrowed her eyes and grit her teeth, biting back a far more scathing reply.

"Just because I am forced to be here doe snot mean I will suffer speaking to you, Skywalker."

Skywalker was far from intimidated, humming in response and throwing the bag he had been carrying into the unused bedroom. Sev'rance kept one eye on him from the single couch in the living room, her muscles taut and ready for action. A minute or so passed before he returned, still adorned in his uniform and with a lightsaber at his hip. Upon returning to the living room, he clapped his hands together.

"Alright, how about a rematch?"

"Excuse me?" Sev'rance drawled, though her hand slid towards the lightsaber on her own hip.

"A rematch? There is still much to learn and my classes don't start until tomorrow." Skywalker responded with a shrug before that ever so smug grin returned to his face. Sev'rance was tempted to say no, but the prospect of knocking that cocky smirk from his face a second time was too great to ignore.


As it turned out, that station had a room set aside from duels and training with melee weapons, hence why Skywalker brought up the idea in the first place. Sev'rance didn't much care where they fought, only that she had another chance to beat the former Jedi. So, it was in a moderately sized ring with empty seats all around that they faced one another.

There was something different to Skywalker now, though Sev'rance could not place her finger on it. Perhaps it was the lack of amusement in his face, ever-present since the moment they met, or perhaps it was creeping anticipation running along her spine. It was as if there was something wrong with the air, or perhaps the Force itself. Whatever it was, Sev'rance could feel it in her bones that this duel would be different than the last.

Skywalker detached the lightsaber at his hip and ignited it without a flourish, its blade casting him once again in a blue hue. His opening stance was not that of Djem-So, his lightsaber was just hanging loosely at his side.

Sev'rance forwent the Makashi salute, an insult to some as it was typically taken as a sign that one's foe was not worth the respect. No words were shared at the start of this bout, Skywalker took the initiative this time. Several long strides allowed him to reach Sev'rance, his lightsaber arching over his head and coming down in a brutal slash. Sev'rance ducked to one side and-

Skywalker's other hand lashed out and backhanded her away, the strike lacking mercy. Sev'rance stumbled but was not given a moment to recuperate, a flash of blue being her only warning he was pressing forwards. Sev'rance blocked the strike, if only barely, and was quickly forced on the backfoot. Surgical, unrelenting strikes fell on her blade with such frequency and strength that Sev'rance could scarcely believe they were coming from a human.

There was only calm determination in his eyes, but something else, something worse emanated from the Force. Skywalker's presence in the Force, which had neither been a beacon of the light nor tinged in darkness, was growing exponentially. It was as if he had been holding back and now, given the chance, unleashed his true strength. It was not light that bared down on Sev'rance, but something so horribly Dark.

The anger and hate permeating in the Force centred on Skywalker's strikes, and only allowed them to grow in strength and speed. It was only through Sev'rance quick thinking and agility that she avoided each of these killing strikes.

Skywalker's presence was Dark beyond even Dooku, and had Sev'rance not been told repeatedly that he was supposed to be a Jedi, she would have suspected she was fighting a true Sith- but what if she was? Dooku had always alluded to having a Master himself, a Sith of even greater power… But, no, Skywalker wasn't even into his twenties… right?

There was none of the uncontrolled fury Sev'rance or other acolytes called on. The anger was funnelled into precise strikes, as if Skywalker was bending the Dark side to his very will. Such a thing should be impossible, even for Count Dooku, yet here Sev'rance was.

Skywalker was trying to kill her, Sev'rance realized, each strike was a finishing blow. This was not a duel, it was an execution. For the first time in years, or perhaps ever, terror-filled Sev'rance mind. Pure, unrelenting fear for something. She respected Dooku, perhaps feared him some, but this was no such feeling. Skywalker was like a storm, his hate and anger flowing around him in a cyclone of power, yet it was controlled. All that power was bent to his will, not the other way around.

Sev'rance's lightsaber was knocked aside and, faster than her eyes could follow, Skywalker's hand found her throat. Instantly, Sev'rance's airflow was cut off as she was lifted effortlessly into the air. Her desperate attempts to free herself were stopped by a few negligent swipes of Skywlaker's sabre.

Just as the world seemed to go black, Sev'rance felt herself be thrown before hitting a wall with a resounding bang. Sev'rance fell in aheap at the foot of the wall, unable to move and just enjoying the delicious air filling her lungs. Several heavy footfalls, far too heavy for someone even of Skywalker's stature, approached her. Sev'rance looked up and, in her air-deprived delirium, she saw what Skywalker was to become, or perhaps would have been.

A monolith of power and anger, adorned in black armour, stared down at her. Power rippled around him, answering only to his call and command. A single, crimson sabre was held aloft in one hand, the weapon of a Sith Lord. His breathing, however, would haunt her nightmares for the months to come. It was slow, drawn-out, and as unrelenting as the man himself.

Khooooh puuuhrr…

Sev'rance blinked and the vision was gone, leaving her in the well-lit room with only Anakin Skywalker looking down on her. The anger was gone, replaced with an unreadable expression.

He knelt before Sev'rance and had she the strength, she would have scooted further back. Skywalker set Sev'rance's lightsaber in her loose grip before looking into her eyes, a kind yet hardened look to their depths.

"Let this be my first lesson, Sev'rance. Be the master of your own anger, and you shall never lose. Let it be your master, and you will be little more than a slave until your death. The Dark side is a pathway to many abilities, but do not let them control you. Rest now, but come to me if you wish to learn how." With that, Skywalker was gone.

Sev'rance, eventually, found the strength to tuck her knees up to her chest. It was a childish gesture, she knew, but at that moment, Sev'rance was more terrified than she had ever been in her entire life. Skywalker was powerful, impossibly so, so she felt completely justified.

Sev'rance hated Skywalker, but upon witnessing his raw power and control over the Dark side… She wanted, no, needed to learn how he controlled the Dark side and bent it to his will. Yet, it raised a question…

Who taught Skywalker?