What Comes First

It was nearly dawn. Yuthura Ban blinked lazily and stared up at the carved stone ceiling. She wasn’t sure what time it was. Without access to a working chronometer (hers was currently lying in a broken heap of metal, the product of one too many stress-charged bolts of Force-lightning), she had to depend on instinct, and every nerve in her system was telling her it was time to wake up. She pushed herself up to her elbows, the sheets pooling around her hips, the air cool and stale in her quarters.

Someone sighed. Instantly, Yuthura was aware of everything – the soft whirring of the ventilator, the fierce pounding of her heartbeat, the quiet breathing of the person lying next to her. She closed her eyes, willing herself calm, and glanced over. Deep brown eyes met her own. Yuthura blinked. Oh Gods…

*

“Dustil Onasi is showing great promise.” Uthar mentioned one night as they prepared to train.

Yuthura remained silent, choosing instead to rub some imagined tarnish from the hilt of her lightsaber. She was used to her Master’s praise of other students – it was mostly designed as a ploy to see if his own apprentice was worthy of the title. It had been a long time since Yuthura had realized that none of the current batch of students could hope to stand up to her. At least, not at the present moment.

“He is proving to be a capable student, Master.” She replied, taking care to remove any sign of inflection from her voice. She knew from experience that Uthar searched for any weakness he could find. It was how he had finally defeated his own master, and how he had destroyed one of the two apprentices before Yuthura. She couldn't let him know that he disgusted her. She couldn't let him sense her hate. She had to betray nothing.

Uthar smiled, and in the low light his cool gaze seemed almost mad. “There is one obstacle to his success. The girl Selene.”

Selene. The girl Dustil had arrived with, the other Telosian displaced by the war. She was as loud and brash as her powers were weak, but the Onasi boy seemed devoted to her. A foolish inclination of his, but one that couldn’t be helped.

Uthar continued, his gaze still fixed on Yuthura.“I’m giving her a mission. One that will take her deep into the valley. I doubt she’ll survive.”

One didn’t need Force-sensitivity to understand the subtext. Yuthura slowly smiled and ran her tongue over the edges of her pointed teeth. “What would you have me do, Master?”

Uthar nodded in approval. “Distract the boy. Help him… forget her. Help him follow the path of the Sith. I trust you can handle him.”

“Yes,” Yuthura responded, glancing at Uthar sideways, “I can.”

*

Dustil Onasi’s gaze flickered from Yuthura’s face to her chest and hips and back up again, the disbelief in his gaze impossible to mistake. When he finally met her gaze fully, he smiled slowly, as if he was not entirely sure what her reaction would be. “Morning.”Yuthura forced herself to smile back. She hoped the action didn’t smack of the falseness it was made of. Just what am I doing here? What am I accomplishing?

She yawned and sat up, exaggerating the motions of stretching to draw attention to the curves of her back, adorned in flowing Sith tattoos. She glanced up at Dustil with a sleepy smile, perfectly calculated for maximum appeal. Just enough sugar to make him believe he had cracked Yuthura Ban’s ice-cold demeanor. “Morning, handsome.”

He fell for it like a ton of bricks. His Sith training did nothing to cover the apology in his eyes. “I didn’t wake you up, did I? I was just… well, you looked so peaceful. I didn’t mean to wake you.” In that moment, his usual cynicism melted away and he looked five years younger – like the little boy who had lost his family on Taris.
Yuthura smiled again, although the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. She felt sick, as if something rotten was rolling around in the pit of her stomach. He was so fracking young. Dustil didn’t notice her unease.

“Is that why you chose me?” he continued as she reached for her undershirt. Yuthura glanced at him, but didn’t say anything. Dustil leaned further towards her. He almost seemed… arrogant. “Because I’m handsome?”

“Yes,” Yuthura relied smoothly, although every nerve in her body screamed in protest, “That’s exactly why."

Dustil grinned and leaned forward further, a playful spark in his deep brown eyes. “What about my roguish charm?”

“Don’t push your luck."

Dustil leaned back and sighed contentedly. Yuthura grimaced and pushed one leg through the bottom half of her uniform. This will all be over soon enough.

* 

A short time later, Yuthura snapped the final clasp of her uniform and glanced back at Dustil. The boy was still wrapped in the sheets, content for the moment to watch her dress. She sighed, ignoring the ball of discomfort that seemed to have lodged itself in the pit of her stomach. “You know this can’t happen again.”

Dustil sighed and rolled to a sitting position. He reached for his pants, discarded on the floor below the bed. “I… know. I just…”

“You shouldn’t talk about it either. The other students might mistake it as… favoritism.”

Dustil smirked, then, and in that moment he looked unmistakably smug. Yuthura wanted to vomit. What am I doing? He pulled his undershirt over his head, and the cloth muffled the sound of his voice slightly. “So you don’t do this with all your other students. Good to know.”

Yuthura glanced sharply at him. “Don’t be smart.” She crossed her arms and stared down at him in mock-anger. As planned, the action accentuated her already generous curves. Dustil blinked and swallowed hard, doing his level best not to stare and failing miserably.

“Besides, you wouldn’t want your little Selene to be jealous, right? It might hurt her poor feelings.” There. She had done it. The seeds were planted. Dustil’s confused frown ended the second he looked at the Twi’lek. She had lowered her head and was looking up at him through her eyelashes in a way she knew was entirely coquettish.

Dustil’s mouth fell slightly open, and he made no move to close it. Yuthura felt an inward stab of vindication. The boy was caught in her trap. She had seen the expression many times during her time as a slave, when the fate of being bound to serve at the pleasure of whoever owned her had taught her to take advantage of even the most unworkable situation. She had seen the expression on the face of Omeesh the Hutt seconds before she had taken her knife and slit his stinking throat.

Too easy. He never had a chance.

Dustil tore his gaze from Yuthura and leaned back, fingers locked behind his head and eyebrows drawn into a scowl. Now, however, his annoyance was directed in an entirely different direction. “Oh, I don’t know about that. She was only too happy to rub her special mission in my face.” He looked up at Yuthura, almost as if he was trying to reassure her. “She’s been gone for two days, now.”

Yuthura swallowed hard. She could feel bile rising up her throat. What am I doing? Hopefully, Dustil would take her sudden uneasiness as a Sith-like fear of betrayal. I have to keep up the lie. “Special mission? Uthar didn’t mention anything to me.”

Dustil took the bait, his face twisting into an expression of pity. He had been at the Academy long enough to know something of the power-games that were played there. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Whatever it was, it seemed… private. She was the only one sent, if I can trust her word.”

With those words, Yuthura saw her way out. She finishing lacing up her boots and stood up. Dustil’s eyes followed her as she moved towards the door. “I should… speak to Uthar about this, I think.”

Dustil bounded up and followed her, stopping a few inches short of actually touching her. “No! Yu-Yuthura, it’s no big deal. Besides, it’s not like Uthar would ever choose someone like Selene over… ” he frowned and looked down at the ground, “over someone like you.”

Yuthura’s eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean, Onasi?”

Dustil scowled and looked up. “Dustil. Not Onasi.”

She blinked in surprise. “Alright, Dustil, but what did you mean?”

Dustil frowned again, but this time, it almost looked like he was hiding a blush. “Uh, I mean, well, you’re… you’re strong, and smart, and… beautiful. He’d be an idiot if he let you go.”

Yuthura closed her eyes and smiled. He will never forgive me when he finds out my part in this. For some reason, the thought brought her pain. “I’m… not strong,” she whispered. A break in her façade. A critical error.

Luckily, Dustil didn’t notice. He didn’t even hear her. “Hmm?”

Yuthura reached up and cupped his cheek with one gloved hand. Dustil covered her hand with his own. His eyes seemed to bore into the depths of her, and she imagined their expression should he find out what was going on. The contrast was almost inconceivable. If she had been anyone else than Yuthura Ban, she might have folded right then and there. As it was, she barely managed the small smirk she graced him with. “You should get going. It’s almost time for rounds.”

Dustil grinned and stifled a laugh with his free hand. “Yuthura… you’re the one that does room checks.”

Yuthura smiled, the first real smile she had given since the day began. Her fingers slowly ran down the side of his face, finally coming to a rest on his chin. She leaned forward. “Then you’re better be in your room when I get there.”

Dustil laughed and pulled his jacket from the floor with the Force, glowing like a supernova in Yuthura’s heightened senses. Yuthura’s breath caught. That much strength from something so trivial. The boy had so much fracking potential. No wonder Uthar was particularly interested in his progress. Given the right guidance, he’d be stronger than she ever would be.

As he left the room, Dustil looked back at her, a smile spread over his face – half smug satisfaction, half innocent glee. Yuthura responded with a wink and a grin, but it seemed almost half-hearted. His smile widened. He didn’t look like the cynical Academy student he was known to be. He looked like a boy who got everything he wanted.

At that moment, she realized what the sick feeling at the pit of her stomach was. Guilt. She hadn’t felt guilty when she slew her master and pinned the crime on a rival Hutt. She didn’t feel guilty when she left the Jedi. She had had no mercy for Uthar’s most recent apprentice, a human male she had lured into bed and gutted. So why, when the situation called for emotionless control, did she feel guilty?

As soon as his retreating back was no longer visible, the smile melted off her face.

Gods, I was probably his first. That would explain why he was switching between acting like an arrogant Sith and a kinrath pup so quickly. If he ever found out her role in this – and he would not, because she was Yuthura-fracking-Ban – it would crush him. And she would be as culpable as Uthar. She sighed and ran long, slim fingers over the ends of her lekku.

What have I done?

*

Uthar called Yuthura to his room an hour before lunch. The moment she entered the room, she knew the deed had been done. Uthar didn’t even look up from his datapad. He seemed inordinately pleased with himself. “My apprentice,” he smiled, making no attempt to hide the smug satisfaction in his voice, “our troubling matter has been taken care of. I handled it… personally.”

Yuthura wrinkled her nose as the stench of old blood and sweat filled her nostrils. He hadn’t even bothered to take a sonic yet. The man truly was disgusting. Taking pleasure in a kill was one thing, but the sadistic glee that Uthar displayed was enough to make her stomach turn. And to display such conceit over the death of a girl who was no match for him… Destroying the powerless doesn’t make you powerful.

“I thought you said you ordered someone else to take her out.”

Uthar turned his yellowed, maddened gaze towards his apprentice. “I meant to, Yuthura, but I couldn’t resist. She was so… delicate. I just had to be the one to break her.”

Yuthura met his eyes without emotion. “I don’t care about your reasons, Master. You should probably change before you tell Dustil the news.”

Uthar didn’t spare his dust-stained uniform even a single glance. “I made sure there was no blood. I’m fine.”

Yuthura interrupted Uthar with a small cough. “Master, your boots.”

Uthar looked down. Underneath the layer of grime that built up from traveling on a barren planet, mixed in with the leather, were the unmistakable prints of blood. He looked up at Yuthura and grinned, the light casting an eerie shadow on his tattooed forehead. It almost seemed as if his eyes were glowing. “Get the boy here. I’ll be ready when you get back.”

Yuthura bowed low, using all of her power to disguise the disgust and revulsion she felt. “As you wish, Master.”

*

Her thoughts remained blessedly silent as she walked, step after step, to the long line of dormitories. Dustil was sitting on his bed as she entered, reading a datapad. He looked up, and stared, apparently too surprised for words. After working his jaw for a moment, he ventured to speak.

“Yu- Master Ban. What are you – ”

“Master Uthar requests your presence.” Yuthura stated succinctly. She could almost hear his thought process: he thought that he had done something wrong, that he had angered another student – that Uthar had found them out. As if it was that trivial.

Dustil stood up quickly and followed her out. His emotions skittered across her awareness like neon flags, and the nervous anxiety he felt was so prominent that she could have seen it without the Force. They passed through the hallways silently, past the worked stone archways and the silent dormitories, the noise of their footsteps as loud as lasers.

Yuthura paused before the turn that would lead to Uthar’s quarters. “Master Uthar wishes to speak to you alone.”

Dustil swallowed hard and nodded. He looked so anxious, so wretched, that, for the second time in her life, Yuthura felt pity. She favored him with a small smile – a real one this time. Her words did not follow the same trend. “Don’t look so frightened, Dustil. I’m sure everything is fine.”

Dustil relaxed visibly, although Yuthura could still sense the tension that filled every muscle in his body. He managed a shaky grin, but all his former arrogance was gone. “I’m not frightened. I can handle anything he throws at me.”
Not this. You can’t handle this.

“I know.”

He will take everything you thought you loved and run it into the dirt. He will turn you against yourself, against everything you ever believed in. Someone should take him out. I should be the one to do it.

Yuthura smiled again, stifling the last part of her thought with all her might. Now was not the time for plotting between masters and apprentices. Now was the time for Dustil to learn a lie presented as truth – the essence of Uthar’s teachings. “Go on, he’s expecting you.”

Dustil nodded and straightened up to his full height. In that moment, he looked ready to face anything. He rounded the corner a student. He would leave a Sith.
Yuthura turned on her heel and strode off. She had done her duty. She would never speak to him again. It was nearly dusk.