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Preparing for Battle

Trust.

The entire existence at the Jedi Temple was built on such a notion. The parents, when first releasing their children to be Jedi, trusted the Order that this was in their child's best interest, that the child would be well cared for and taught. Initiates trusted that their teachers and mentors were teaching them to the best of their ability. They trusted that they were in good hands and that those hands would keep them safe. Older initiates trusted that a Master would choose them and choose wisely, or, if that fate were not in their destinies, the best path would be chosen. Padawans trusted that their masters had their best interest at heart, and that their master would fulfill their duty, protecting a padawan to the death. They also trust that the master would be able to complete, in its entirety, their training. Once a Knight and later a Master, Jedi trusted that the assignments given would be within their capacity, and if one decided to take a padawan, that the padawan would listen and obey, for it might make the difference between life and death.

Raven watched as a pair of Jedi Knights and padawans, roughly her size, sparred on the floor, although her mind was not on the fight. She was thinking of the situation she seemed to have tumbled into. The competition for the younger initiates had already come and gone, and Emrys had not made an appearance. The absence of the gentle, unsure initiate had brought a lump to her throat, and briefly Raven had been tempted to check on him. However, Elep's harsh words and her own vow to remain near Nat had kept her away.

It immensely bothered the young Knight that Emrys had lost faith in her due to Nat. Her own partner's betrayal didn't seem quite so important, quite so imperative when compared to what Emrys must have felt and gone through. She would survive in any case. It was in her nature. The question was, what kind of damage had been done to the shy initiate due to Nat.

Raven shook her head, pushing the thought away. That could be dealt with in due time. Her first priority was to see Nat out of the Temple, never to return. He had promised her.

A quiet snort emitted from her lips, and Raven knew that she was being naïve. She did truly believe that he would leave the Temple quietly and not return, although the reason behind it being that he would no longer be in trouble. It would be ludicrous for the Council to hunt down an errant Jedi for one instance of using the Dark Side merely to drag him back for a reprimand. The Council would be content merely to bid him adieu and hope for the best, or at least for Nat not to cause trouble.

That thought unsettled her. Nat had always been ambitious to a fault, desiring to be the best in all things, classes, sparrings, meditations. His master had attempted to cure him of it but obviously had failed, whether he was aware of the failure or not.

Raven sensed Nat shift, and she glanced at him. His blond hair was tousled and his face set. She searched the blue eyes as well as she could from that angle, not sure what she was looking for. They were cold and hard, watching something beyond the spar that was taking place on the floor. Then, suddenly, he gave himself a slight shake and came back, turning to look at Raven as though he sensed her gaze.

White on purple. The two blades hissed between them, although Raven could see through them, knowing that they were just a vision, some shadow of what could be. They were gone in an instant, and Nat was no longer looking at her, instead out at the arena where the final match of her weight class had ended, an older padawan that Raven didn't recognize the victor.

The victor was announced, and Raven didn't recognize the name either. Initiates rushed out onto the floor to wipe up sweat pools from the hard mats. The next pair to spar was announced, Raven and a Jedi whose name she didn't know but appeared familiar. Given Nat a stern warning glance, she walked out on to the floor, letting the thoughts of him and that situation drift away. It would take all of her concentration to compete well, being out-weighted by all in this class.

***

"Jedi, present yourselves."

Raven moved from the sidelines to the center of the arena slowly and stately, her head held high and her formal robes weighing down on her as she began to prepare herself for the spar ahead. This was a ritual, an honor to compete in order to hone one's abilities and better serve the Order. This was tradition, something done time out of mind, from the beginnings of the Jedi Order.

Approaching her from the opposite direction was a Chalactan, a humanoid species with characteristically dark hair and skin. He was an attractive male, being around two meters tall, and lithe, as were most Jedi. His eyes were dark and considering. Raven watched him as he approached, trying to get a base for the kind of fighter he was. She knew he was doing the same. They stopped when they were about four meters apart from each other on the floor.

"Prepare to battle."

Raven stripped off her dark brown outer robe, tossing it to the side where an initiate cleared it away. She also pulled off her tabard and tunics, stripping down to only a tank top and her leggings with her utility belt hugging her hips, in addition to her boots. The Chalactan was wearing no shirt at all, only his leggings, utility belt, and boots. Although it was highly unlikely that such courtesy would be given in the field, this was a symbol of a clean fight. Nothing would be used besides the Jedi's lightsaber. It was a battle of the talent in that, as well as focus and connection to the Force. Only self, saber, and opponent.

Raven looked across to her opponent and gave him an almost imperceptible nod. He returned the gesture, and they both raised their sabers to their foreheads, saluting one another. "May the Force be with you both," the announcer intoned, signaling the beginning of the match.

The Chalactan and Raven circled each other, trying to goad the other into making the first move. Neither had ignited their blades as of yet, but that was merely a matter of time. As they moved around in another circle, Raven was dimly aware of the crowd's cheers and the slow fading of them. Smiling faintly to herself, she rushed the Chalactan, activating her saber to give a low slash aimed at his calves.

Not surprisingly, the Chalactan jumped, flipping over her head to drop down behind her. Raven turned, using the momentum from her rush, and blocked his attack, a slash aimed about chest level. Her arms tingled slightly from the force of the impact, but Raven moved out of range for a moment, taking pains to control her breathing.

The Chalactan remained out of range, a faint smile on his own dark features. Raven returned the expression, twirling her saber in her hand as a pseudo-nervous gesture. Inwardly, she was completely calm, on a warrior's high, curious as to the outcome of the match. Baring her teeth as an indicator, she feigned at hit to his side, switching from left to right as he moved to block her slash. It didn't work, however; he sensed her shift from the left and parried her slash, although his features spoke of respect.

He moved to score a hit on her, but Raven twisted out of the way, managing to score a burn on his shoulder as he moved beyond her. She watched as shock registered on his face before it was quickly schooled away. Suddenly, she understood. He had guessed that this would be an easy victor, since Raven was out of her class. He didn't look to be any older than her, perhaps a number of years younger than she, which made his mistake make sense.

Raven flipped over him, moving to a fierce offensive. If she kept him on the defensive before he could remedy his misjudgment, it would be a quick victory for her, which would make the subsequent spars easier for her. He parried every hit she tried to place, but it soon became evident that he was having difficulty keeping up with her. She scored another burn on his forearm and one on his side. The Chalactan placed one on her stomach and failed to lay another on her arm. Raven twisted from that misplaced slice, ducked down, and brought her saber into a wide, low sweep. The Chalactan fell into the trap. As he jumped, she moved the slash into a feign, bringing it up and tight to herself, to score the game point on his chest, deactivating her saber as she mock-ran him through, her hilt hitting his chest solidly. He fell heavily on his back, staring dazedly at the ceiling.

Raven clipped her hilt to her utility belt and reached down to help the Chalactan to his feet. He shook his head and grinned in admiration. "You've got a lot of punch to you for such a small thing," he commented over the roar of the spectators. The announcer proclaimed her the victor after the mediators had verified it.

The dark-haired Knight returned the grin and winked at him. "Don't trust your senses," she replied, "for they will deceive you. Didn't Master Yoda ever tell you that?"

"Don't get me started on the little troll!" he exclaimed. The Chalactan shook his head again, laughing. Then, he saluted her with his saber hilt. She returned the gesture, and they parted ways to head back to their respective sides of the arena as the announcer called the next pair to the floor.

***

Raven watched the next few matches, taking mental notes on the style and preferences of each of the victors. Since the pairings for the next round were randomly chosen, she didn't know against whom she would compete, so she decided to be prepared in any case. Nat, ironically, was paired against Mace Windu, and he defeated the young Council member after a strenuous spar.

The young, undersized Jedi won her next two spars as well, securing herself a spot in the final round. Raven was rather pleased with her status as either winner or runner-up in this weight class. While the last round before the final was going on, Nat against a Nikto that she didn't recognize, Raven drifted away from the spar to find something light to eat.

The hallway was quiet after the roar of the crowd in the arena. Raven guessed that almost every Jedi between the ages of six and the upper ends of its species lifespan who was currently residing in the Temple was crowded in there, with the exception of the kitchen and infirmary staff. Some Healers were in the arena in case of injury, of course. The Jedi Knight smiled. The Council spars would be later that night, an event looked forward to by all Jedi who did not sit on the revered board.

Raven rounded the corner and nearly ran into Elep, whose lekku were twitching nervously, strangely stiff down her back. "Raven!" she exclaimed, grabbing the Knight's arm, "I've been looking for you. Emrys isn't doing well."

The dark-haired Jedi blinked for a moment, all coherent thought paused, and then she shook her head to clear it. "Isn't doing well? What do you mean?"

Elep shrugged, managing to look sheepish. "I checked on him this morning to see if he slept well. He was fine then, although not very talkative and wouldn't even discuss what happened yesterday. I wasn't on duty, so I left to fetch him some breakfast from the cafeteria. I was gone maybe fifteen, twenty minutes, and when I got back, another Healer was in his room taking his temperature and checking his pulse. I was told he had a panic attack. His heartbeat skyrocketed, and he was having trouble breathing."

"How is he now?"

"We had to sedate him before he hurt himself or passed out from lack of oxygen. He's sleeping well now, although we don't know what will happen when he wakes," Elep said professionally, not meeting Raven's eyes.

The Knight swallowed, considering what her friend had said. "What aren't you telling me?" she asked finally, searching the Twi'lek's averted eyes.

Elep looked at Raven. "We don't know what's wrong. If we don't know what's wrong, we can't help Emrys. That means he may need to be sedated for a long time, at best."

"At best? Elep…" From the arena, the Knight and the Healer hear the echo from the announcer calling for the final spar. Raven shook her head, obviously torn.

Elep sighed, correctly interpreting that gesture. "Go fight your battle, Raven. Emrys will still be there when you are finished. I can't believe you made it to the final round."

"You're sure he'll be fine?" Raven searched her friend's face with concern.

"Of course he will. Best of luck, Raven. May the Force be with you."

Raven smiled in returned, recognizing the attempt to make up for her harsh words the night before. "All right. Thanks, Elep. It means a lot to me."

***

Banishing all thoughts of Emrys from her mind for the moment, Raven walked back into the arena, suddenly very conscious of all of the people in the stands. The dark-haired Jedi shook her head, clearing it of the stray thoughts, and focused on her upcoming spar. She moved across the floor fluidly and when she brought her eyes to her opponent, Raven was mildly surprised, although not as much as she expected to be, to see Nat standing across from her. Both were already stripped for the spar.

Their names announced, the two Jedi approached each other on the mat. Respectfully, they bowed to one another, also saluting with their saber hilts, then moved back six paces. Twin snap-hisses echoed across the arena as it fell unnaturally silent. Raven could see determination glinting in Nat's eyes.

He rushed her, trying to use his larger bulk to faze her. Raven dropped into a defensive position, blocking his hit. Nat drove her back a few steps, and then she slashed at him across the torso, trying to get a feel for his style and reflexes. It was strange, to think she had fought by his side for more than a year, but she had never paid much attention to his style. The thought drifted away, forgotten. He parried it easily as she suspected, returning it in kind with a blow aimed at her knees.

Raven leapt, using the Force to carry herself over his head. She landed and dropped into a crouch, scoring a hit on his shin as he turned. His saber arced down towards her, leaving her barely enough time to block what probably would have amounted to a kill point.

Nat followed through on the parried hit, using his momentum to add force to his next blow. However, Raven kicked out one foot, sweeping it into his ankles. The larger knight crashed to the mat, knocked off balance between her sweep and his own swing. Raven rolled out of the way and jumped to her feet.

By the time she had regained her footing, Nat was already upon her, his purple blade aiming for her torso in a jab. Raven parried it, deflecting his blade harmlessly to her right. She made a high swing, once again blocked by Nat. He deflected it as well, scoring his own hit on her non-saber arm.

Sweat poured down her back as they continued to fight. Her long, dark hair clung damply to her neck, and Raven could feel beads of sweat collecting on her brow, dripping down to sting her eyes. Nat's blond hair had turned darker from his own sweat, and Raven could see perspiration on his upper lip. Still, they battle on in the unnaturally quiet arena, which seemed to be holding its breath for the outcome between them.

Nat slashed at her, finding his purple blade parried by her white. Raven lost the number of times their blades crashed together, hissing evilly. She felt her muscles begin to tire as they went in endless rounds of parrying and hitting, driving back and pushing forward, burn returned for burn. He began to show fatigue in his face, as his moves slowed in time.

Raven knew that this would probably be her only chance. Gathering the remnants of her energy, she dropped back a few steps, feigning a slash to his side. He followed through to block, but Raven had turned, sidestepping the other direction. Her move earned her a substantial burn, which threw Nat out of his fighting group long enough for her crouch down and make one last sweep. He only stumbled, catching himself on his saber hand. The saber slipped out between his hand and the mat. Using her boot, Raven knocked him over the rest of the way, scoring her kill point.

She deactivated her saber and reached down to help Nat up. He shook his head, his eyes showing wonder and pride and – was it resignation? – and then it hit her. Raven had won. Nat grinned at her as the crowd began to scream jubilantly She couldn't believe that she had won! A smile spread across her own features, but when she looked back at Nat, the smile faded.

The noise of the crowd dimmed as she focused on him. His face had become blank, his gaze somewhere beyond the walls of the large arena. An instinctive fear crept into her stomach, twisting it, and she approached Nat. "You have to leave now," she said quietly, although there was no room for disagreement in her tone. "You promised, and now you will hold good to that promise."

"It's not evening," Nat replied, losing his absorbed look to glance at her.

"I don't care," Raven replied, the steel in her voice palpable. "You are leaving. Now."

***

Nat followed her placidly into the hallway. They walked side by side in a stony silence, Raven's face set and determined. They made their way down a number of floors toward one of the side entrances to the Temple and were about halfway there when suddenly Nathaniel stopped. "I have a few things I need from my room."

Raven turned to face him, her lips compressed into a thin line. "It would be better if you left now," she said coolly, her green eyes meeting his blue levelly.

He spread his arms out disarmingly. "A spare change of clothes? Some food? Some water? A few credits? I'm not asking for a moon," he replied slowly.

Raven glowered at him for a moment before shaking her head. "You must be away. Be thankful I don't just turn you over to the Council out of hand at this point," she replied. Nat bowed his head for a moment in acquiescence. Raven turned to move on down the hallway.

Nat was upon her in an instant, twisting her right arm painfully behind her and pinning her left arm with his. He applied pressure on her right arm, forcing Raven onto her toes as the muscles and bones in that arm protested. Her breath hissed through her teeth in pain. Nat hefted her, applying even more pressure to her arm, and began to hurriedly drag her out of the open space of the hallway. "I don't appreciate it when you bare your teeth at me," he whispered in her ear.

Raven kicked behind her, trying to find purchase on him. He avoided her, easily keeping her lined up with her torso, her legs uselessly swinging between his. Instead, she struggled, trying to loosen his grip to she could reach her light saber even with her left hand, although it was at her right hip, easily accessible to her saber hand.

Growling menacingly, he pulled her from the main hallway through a smaller doorframe. As they passed through, Raven set her boots to the frame and braced herself, shoving backwards as hard as she could. Nat reeled back, slamming into the wall on the opposite side but still managed to retain his grip. "You will regret that," he spat. Nat turned her and rammed her into the doorframe, stunning the Knight momentarily, as they moved through it into the smaller corridor.

Nat felt her relax a little in his arms, and he knew that the fight, at least momentarily, had gone out of her. "I have every intention of leaving," he informed her, "but first I want to get a few of my things from my room. If you had just listened to me in the first place, we wouldn't be having this difficulty now."

"No difficulty at all," Raven grunted in reply as she resumed her struggle.

"I don't think you understand," he said dangerously, giving Raven a fierce shake. She stilled, sensing that his next words would be of great import. "Obviously you care very little for your own life, but I have taken my own precautions against others for whom you care in this Temple. Defiance may have regrettable consequences, my dear Raven."

"False words are created easily enough," Raven shot back.

Fury crossed his face, and he threw Raven down hard enough to send her sliding across the tile floor and have her hit solidly against the opposite wall. She slumped from the force of the impact, slowly gathering her hands beneath her to lift herself up.

Nat reached down and grabbed her arm, pulling her up before she had the chance to recover. "I suppose you'll find out the truth of them soon enough," he replied. The last thing Raven felt before succumbing to darkness was the fiery pain of his palm impacting against her jaw.