This was ridiculous.

Sighta glowered at the far wall of the room she'd been given. They weren't even letting her speak with her mother. It wasn't like she needed to discuss the coming duel with the weakling. It was clear she'd be the winner long before she faced him.

This time—

Her lips curled.

Yes, this time his lackies wouldn't interfere. She would put him in his place and prove which of them was stronger once and for all. Then she could demand Revan's location from the wimp. He'd be leaping at the chance to do so, groveling at her feet.

The door opened.

"It's time," the soldier informed her.

Finally.

Sighta stood. There was no point in rushing to the room. Let him wait, let him know with each step she took he was a step closer to his humiliating defeat.

The room she was led to was spacious. A few wracks lined the walls holding practice weapons. The center of the room was bare. The Jedi were gathered there with weakling in the center of the group.

Her mother was there as well, escorted by the Republic military. She nodded to Sighta.

The weakling stepped forward. "Can you block Force Lightning?"

"With my lightsaber. What kind of idiot do you take me for?"

"Can you block anything with the Force?"

"Anything you throw at me, weakling," Sighta snarled

"Very well." The weakling held out a sword.

Sighta's lip curled. "What kind of joke is this?"

"Oh, it's far from a joke," the weakling smiled. "After all, you were the one who stated you can block anything I send your way, thus fighting with swords instead of our lightsabers should be no issue." His eyes glittered. "Especially for one as gifted as yourself."

Sighta's lip twitched. "Fine." She took the sword. She'd make him pay for this. "You better keep your lackies from interfering this time.

The weakling just smiled before he turned. "Pay attention to the duel in place of the morning practice."

Sighta's eyes narrowed.

There were three children standing among the Jedi. Though, child might not have held true as one appeared to be in her late teens.

A smile curled her lips.

Good.

Let the next generation of Jedi see how weak they really were.

The oldest nodded as she pulled out a datapad. "All right, Uncle."

"This is going to be good." The only boy smirked and punched his palm.

Yes, it would be.

The weakling turned away from the children. His back was to her as he moved to stand across from her.

"Strike fast," the words her mother had drilled her in, "strike first. If you're first, you will win every time."

Sighta lifted her hand.

Lightning surged from her fingertips towards the weakling.

The lightning started to die down.

It was over.

Sighta grinned as she turned to the other Jedi.

She had won.

There was no coming back from being hit from that strong of an attack.

None of the Jedi were looking at her.

The light died away.

"I had figured you would try a low trick like that."

Sighta stiffened.

She turned back to the weakling.

He stood; his hand splayed before him as the last of the lightning was drawn in towards his hands. He closed his hands. The light vanished.

"Here is your first lesson," – Weakling straightened – "never believe simply because you can't do it, another can't as well."

Sighta bared her teeth.

He could block lightning, that didn't give him the bases to start lecturing her. "Shut it, weakling."

Sighta charged. The silver of her blade flashed in the light.

She swung, aiming for the weakling's neck.

Her sword bounded away with flick of the weakling's weapon.

What the…

Sighta leapt back.

No.

She was still stronger.

She leapt again.

This time she would disable him.

Her blade went low.

It bounced back again.

A breath came from the Weakling. "Have you ever even learned how to faint your attack?"

Faint?

"Shut up!" Sighta snarled.

If she kept attacking something would hit.

None of her blows met the mark. Each was swatted away as if she was nothing more than annoying bug.

This, it wasn't possible.

There was no way the wimp could be this good.

There was no way.

She had defeated everyone who had come after her. Every last apprentice who had tried to take her title of Lord from her. Her former master had stood little chance against her. Yet, it was her weak, sickly twin who didn't fall in the first attack.

Why?

Sighta snarled.

She lashed out with Force before aiming for his neck once more with her blade.

The weakling flicked his wrist.

Several swords clattered the ground.

Her sword clanged against his.

"I had been hoping you weren't all talk," he stated, none of the cheer in his voice. "Though, it appears my suspicions were true. You've relied on others doing your work for you your entire life."

"I haven't," Sighta denied. Her stomach lurched.

Was he right?

Her mother had always been there.

No, it wasn't true. It wasn't possible.

"Tell me this, did any you faced before, put up a fight?" the weakling asked.

Sighta growled and leapt at him again.

He side stepped her.

Pain lanced through her side.

Air whipped passed her.

She slammed hard into the ground. She rolled to her feet.

He hadn't moved, just stood there, watching her. The sword wasn't even at the ready.

"Attack me! Unless you're scared."

His eyebrows rose. "I'm quite calm. It is you, not I, who is frightened."

"Then prove it."

"I have nothing to prove to you."

Sighta growled.

There had to be away to defeat him.

Her grip tightened on the sword until she felt her fingers tingle.

Or this was some sort of trick.

He was supposed to be weaker than her, not stronger. He was born sick, frail. Now…

Now—no, she would prove it to him she was stronger. She was meant for great things, not him.

"It's time to end this." Sighta hoisted her sword.

"Agreed." The weakling smiled.

Her skin crawled with a sudden chill.

A blur short towards her.

She gasped as the hilt of his blade slammed into her hand.

The swords slipped from her hand.

The weakling twisted and caught her blade.

Agony shot through her leg.

The air was knocked from her lungs as she slammed into the ground.

She gasped and made to push herself up.

Cold metal touched her shoulder.

She followed the blade to the holder of it.

He stood over her, expression even almost bored.

That little…

Sighta tried to stand again. The metal touched her throat. Both blades were pinning her place.

"It's not over."

"Do you honestly think you can continue this while pinned?" the wimp asked.

"I can," she snarled.

"Try."

The blades pinched her throat as she tried to stands.

She fell back to the ground and lashed out with her foot, but she couldn't move it.

"I told you not to involve your lackies!"

His eyebrows rose. "I have your legs pinned," he stated. He leaned down. "And you would have been died by now if this had been a real battle." He smiled, an almost cold smile.

Sighta shivered.

"I believe this is my win." The blades moved away from her neck.

Sighta moved onto her side. Her eyes locked on her mother, but Jeri wasn't looking at her. Her gaze locked on the weakling. There was nothing of pride or joy on her face, only a small frown.

This wasn't how it ended.

Sighta leapt up.

Lightneing surged towards the weakling.

The clatter of the blade hitting the ground sounded as the ring of victory over the crackling of lightning.

"Honestly."

Sighta froze. The lightning tapered off as her ears rang.

"How many times must you attack from behind before you realize it won't do anything?"

The lightning cleared to reveal Alvar.

His eyes narrowed.

Air rushed passed her.

Pain lanced through her back as she slammed into the wall.

Alvar was before her in less than a heartbeat.

"Do that again," his breath was warm as he whispered in her ear, "and relation or not, I won't hesitate in striking you down."

"You mean kill me?" The voice which trembled from her lips sounded foreign, frightened and soft.

"Oh, I won't kill you." His eyes narrowed. "No, not that, but I will invoke the old Jedi law of removing your Force sensitivity."

The air froze.

She stared at him.

That was… it was a fate worse than death.

"You," words clung to her dry throat, "you wouldn't."

"I would as it would show you are incapable of becoming a Jedi." He stepped back.

Sighta fell to the floor. She stared as Alvar turned his back on her once more.

She couldn't bring herself to attack again. The feeling of the force as he'd held her, there was no longer away to deny it, he was stronger than her. Perhaps even crueler than her.

(Author's note: I don't know why I struggled so much with this chapter.

I have started the outlines for the next two chapters. Hopefully this will help me the next two months.)