The Citadel Cantina is located on the second level of the Arcona Citadel. The bar itself is small on the surface, but possess an expansive selection thanks to a clever servos-operated storage system built into the underside of the bar. A bartender only need punch in what drink they require (other than the typical stock) and within a minute the bottle is distributed transparisteel display panels. Relaxed, soothing music plays over the speakers, and a big-screen display terminal with access to the holonet sits across from a series of comfortable lounge chairs and stools.

The Cantina is full-service and is manned by a gruff, one-eyed Rodian named Mick. Mick is a grumpy, former sergeant who served in the Arcona Armed Forces years and years ago. He goes about his business with a series of grunts, gestures, and monosyllabic dialogue. Though a man of few words, he's a genius of alcoholic beverages and mixology. Mick has a very strict rule about no fighting or brawling within the Cantina. The mess hall, on the other hand, is a different story.

The Cantina opens up into a dedicated mess-hall that can hold up to a hundred sentients before it starts to feel claustrophobic. Open at all hours, the mess-hall has been sanctioned as an acceptable area for members to settle aggressions and other frustrations. The tables are all firmly bolted into the halls floor to avoid being thrown over, and are crafted out of durable material that has held it’s own throughout the years. At the far end of the mess-hall there is a pair of double-doors that lead to the kitchen and storage area. The mess-hall is maintained by a full staff of droids, and occasionally a new recruit who has earned the ire of the Rollmaster.

It was quiet. A few grunts and clacking glasses, three pairs of lungs, some buzzing droids, music somberly turned down so low its hum was undecipherable background noise--that was it.

On a normal day, boisterous guffaws the dark gold of Corellian rum went clamoring on the air, interrupting brooding silence in deeper corners. Those laughs would stumble out the door whenever another patron entered then come anew, rising and falling along the ceiling with the white fluorescents.

But it was not a normal day. Outside the doors there was blood and strife, compatriots ripping each other apart.

Andrelious J. Inahj took another drink from his second Elba beer, nodded to the bartender, and turned to face the taller woman standing behind him.

“Getting started early, huh?” Atyiru said with a thin but warm smile of greeting. “Thanks for coming. I thought I might be able to talk some sense into you. And if not, at least get some whiskey, eh Mick?” She directed her attention over the Sith’s shoulder. The one-eyed bartender merely grunted and brought up a bottle.

“What sense could you talk? The entire Clan has gone mad,” spat Andrelious grimly. “All for the damned pride of the Arconae and Valtiere and Cethgus’s foolishness.”

“I agree,” the Aedile replied, strolling forward. “And I want it to end, before there’s any more fighting, before anyone else gets hurt,” she paused, and her tone fell with her grin. “You’ve been hurting a lot of our people, Andrel.”

“Atyiru, I’ve tried to convince these idiots to surrender, but they don’t listen," the Rollmaster sneered.

"The tactic shouldn't be to give to one side or another, it should be both suing for peace."

"You're naive," the Warlord told her, lip curling and eyes angry, haunted. "I've been through this before, with the frakking families squabbling. You Entars were fools then and you are now."

"Watch your tongue," Atyiru murmured, quiet but suddenly sharp, like a mountain peak. "My family is on both sides of this. We're as much torn apart as the Clan as a whole.”

“And yet you still chose the wrong side,” Andrelious snarled, rising from his seat. “It was between the Quaestors and the Arconae and you chose wrong.”

“Please,” the Miraluka snapped back, a slow, churning fury rising in her voice. One of her olive hands settled on the hilt of her seraphic saber. “The only reason, the only reason you’re here with the Arconae and not off-world completely with your wife and unborn children is because you want to kill my brother. Because you’re convinced that, somehow, Cethgus is a greater threat to Kooki and to the rest of us than an entire karking civil war.”

“You’ve got some nerve bringing Kooki into this--”

“I have a right is what I have! Godmother, remember? Master? Friend? Do you think I suddenly stopped caring about what happens to the people I love?”

“No,” the former Imperial scoffed. “I think you decided you loved that horned beast more. I think you betrayed us.”

She moved just a little faster than him, filling his red-tinged vision with the incandescence of dawn-hued plasma while his E-11 dug into her side. He tried to push her back, but the deceivingly lithe Krath dug her heels in, deadlocking them. Behind them, over the bartop, Mick grunted and snapped furiously, pointing to the mess hall.

“How dare you?” the Archpriestess hissed.

The Human spat back, “You’d fight for him--”

“I fight for what’s right!” Atyiru’s saber tinkled like bells as its heat warmed his cheek uncomfortably before she leapt away, backing into the adjacent hall. He stalked after her, blaster raised, as she kept shouting. “I fight to keep everything we have from falling to pieces under us! I fight to protect. Everyone, not just the ones I love. You cannot claim the same and you cannot presume upon my choice, Andrelious!”

“I can correct it,” the Sith growled. “Stand down, Atyiru. Join us. This is the last chance I’ll offer you, as a friend.”

The Miraluka’s foot slid forward as she flowed into a classic defensive stance and brandished her saber. “No, Andrel.”

Forgive me, Kooki, the Rollmaster thought. “Then you’re my enemy, and I’ll slay you like one. I’m sorry.”

A ghost of a smile curled over Atyiru’s lips. “You need never apologize to me, my friend,” she recited coolly.

Andrelious steeled himself and pulled the trigger.

-=x=-

Her lightsaber scintillated, birthing a shower of crimson sparks that flew away and blackened the walls with their refracted bite. A few of the burning bolts slipped past her guard, singeing her skin. Atyiru clenched her jaw and healed the scorching with hardly an idle thought as Andrelious charged forward, pistol discarded.

The Rollmaster’s saber caught under hers at an odd angle, plasma screaming together before she found her blade flying from her grip as her joints strained in the wrong direction. Andrelious’s blade swept past in a blur of constant motion, whirling around for a vicious strike.

Her instincts howled, lighting along her nerves, and the Archpriestess stepped aside, barely dodging the slash aimed to take her head. Relentless, the Warlord lunged clumsily forward, as if to throw a punch--

A telekinetic burst slammed into Atyiru’s gut, hurling her into one of the bolted-down tables with a bone-crunching crash, her body giving way where the furniture would not. She cried out in agony as her left arm groaned and snapped, folding under her.

Heat and darkness swimming through her head, she pushed herself to her knees, embracing the Force to take her pain and make her whole. Her good hand dropped to her belt as she observed the Sith approaching.

“Andrelious, please,” she begged, pulling at his emotions. “No more death. Just stop.”

For the length of a breath, he hesitated, steps faltering.

The Aedile raised one deathly-still hand, blaster ready. “Just stop,” she repeated.

Andrelious shook himself and advanced. Atyiru sobbed, once, then fired.

Civil wars were always the hardest to fight. For three of the four and half decades that he lived, Andrelious had found himself embroiled in them. Many a time he had slain former allies, but had always done so with a cold satisfaction. The Warlord had been trained young as an instrument of a war machine that itself was crumbling to the ravages of internal strife. Killing had been a way of life, even as he moved from the Empire to serve Arcona. As others formed genuine friendships, grew close to one another, Inahj simply continued to rack up the kills.

This time was different. Since meeting Kooki, the ex-Imperial had become a lot less embittered towards others. As his love for the Alderaanian grew in leaps and bounds, so too did his compassion. Recent missions, such as the one to the Hapes Cluster, had opened his eyes to just how cruel he could be. Even since then, the deep feelings of negativity and depression that Andrelious continued to feel ebbed away as he spent more time with his now wife. The shackles of dark feeling that his childhood on Byss had wrapped around the Warlord’s very soul were loosening daily.

Atyiru was one of the first people to have congratulated the couple, not only on their engagement, or their wedding, but even the first time that they had dated. The Miraluka, as with most others who dealt with the Rollmaster, had found Inahj an extremely frustrating individual when she had met him. Now she stood before him, apparently ready to end the ex-Imperial, having promised only days before to always look over his and Kooki’s as yet unborn twins.

Andrelious brought his lightsaber around, snuffing out the fire from the Miraluka’s blaster easily. The Warlord glared at the Galerean Aedile, slowing his approach. Atyiru kept her blaster pointed directly at the Rollmaster, but did not fire again. Inahj stopped, still a few strides out of lightsaber range. He also kept his weapon ready.

“It would have to be here that we fight, wouldn’t it?” Andrelious stated. The cantina had been the scene of many furious debates between the two of them. Whilst lightsabers and blasters had frequently been drawn, however, they had never once found themselves in the situation that now presented itself.

“I can sense the conflict within you, Andrelious! Stop. Take Kooki and leave!” Atyiru answered, obviously torn.

“You know I’m going to do that, Atyiru. But I cannot just walk away as long as Cethgus remains alive. He is too much of a threat to my family. It’s just a shame that the Entars got their claws into you. It’s just a shame that he corrupted you!” Inahj snapped, hatred bubbling forth. With a snarl, he charged forwards, crimson blade slicing through the air as he closed the gap between himself and his wife’s Master.

“NO!” the Miraluka screamed, stepping back as she activated her own lightsaber. With a determined grimace on her face, the Archpriestess nullified the incoming attack, pain from her still-mending left arm mixing with the anguish of fighting.

Andrelious began to furiously probe Atyiru’s defences, trying to use his superior strength to force his way past the Sorcerer’s unwavering blocks. He had seen a little of the Miraluka fighting, having observed her training Kooki, as well as on a few occasions that they had fought together, but the Warlord had certainly not expected to find his opponent able to handle his varied attacks with the relative ease she was appearing to have.

I mustn’t hold back. She’s backing Cethgus. That alone justifies this. Andrelious thought as he barely dodged a counter-attack from the Galerean Aedile. As Atyiru’s left arm continued to repair, her own fighting became more and more confident, though her style remained much more defensive than the Inquisitor was used to.

Performing a back-flip, Atyiru landed a few feet away, easily avoiding the Rollmaster’s rather lackadaisical attempt at cleaving her clean in half. Landing neatly, the Miraluka drew on dark side energies, converting them into a short, sharp jolt of electricity. Andrelious, sensing what the Krath was doing, raised his lightsaber, allowing the crimson blade to absorb the attack. The power was enough to cause the weapon to flicker on and off for a few moments. Speedily charging in, Atyiru slashed forwards, timing her attack almost perfectly. Inahj moved to parry, but his blade fizzled at a key moment. The end of the Archpriestess’ blade made contact with his midriff, singeing his skin. Inahj was not severely hurt, but the surprise of the move had caught him out. The Krath retreated quickly, preventing any kind of counter attack.

“You’ve made your point, Atyiru. Now, stand down. You HATE killing – Cethgus has killed more than anyone! If I kill him, dozens of others will be spared. Surely that’s good?” Andrelious asked, with an uncharacteristic softness to the tone of his voice.

“You say you’re going to go. Just go without hurting me, or Cethgus, or anyone else. Take Kooki. Be a husband. Be a father. You’ve been fighting your whole life, Andrel. Do you really want to bring your children into a house of pain and death?” Atyiru pleaded.

“For Palpatine’s sake! My family are not safe as long as that bastard remains alive! Thanks to his little Rebellion, Kooki and I will be marked as his enemies for life. Do you think fleeing would be enough to escape that tag? Quite frankly I also don’t intend to stay away on his account. I don’t want anyone else to become compromised by his lies.” Inahj replied angrily.

“Don’t you remember when Kooki came here, Andrelious? I vowed I would protect her as her Master. Even if that means I have to protect her from YOU,” the Miraluka declared, readying herself to resume the fight.

“Very well. If that’s how you wish to play it. You may be good with words, but I’d like to see even you explain to Kooki why her children don’t have a father!” Andrelious snapped, his wound having healed during the interlude in the battle.

With great reluctance on both parts, the two Arconans charged in towards each other, lightsabers bared.

Scarlet bled into a sparking sky. Plasma screamed. Light flashed. Hearts raced. Faster. Faster.

Andrelious’s jaw was clenched so tight that the pressure was like a spike driven through his skull, but he fought on like any Imperial-trained veteran would. He would not fail.

Atyiru sprang forth again, her pale-hued saber flying from its scintillating arc and knocking his strike aside, its proximity scorching across his arm where it slipped past his guard. His breath hissed through his teeth, sweat sticking his graying hair to his forehead.

The Aedile flowed away, quicksilver once again, her saber still spinning infuriatingly. When did she even get that cursed thing back? the Human wondered idly, trying to heal his most recent scrape but finding the Force slip through his fingers.

“Listen,” Atyiru called. Her face was tight with pain and burns decorated her skin. “Please, Andrel. It’s never too late. Do you understand? We can still stop this. You can take your family and go, raise your children, love your wife, be happy. Just leave me to mine, trust me to do what’s right for everyone,” she plead. “Please.”

For a moment, he flagged. He considered it, considered all the words between them that were crumbling like too-late promises on the bloodied air. He heard the desperate passion in her tone. He recognized the pain in his chest that was completely separate from all his small wounds, the hollow aching to be with those he loved. Not here, away, doing what had to be done. An ache so strong it felt like he could not breathe, like his ribs would crack open first.

He squeezed his eyes shut, picturing Kooki, and then opened them again. “Eliminating Cethgus,” he spat back, “Is the right thing.”

“You believe that,” Atyiru breathed sadly. “You really do.” She shifted her stance just slightly, dropping her now-healed arm a few degrees and lowering into a sideways crouch.

“I--” he began to argue, but then the Miraluka was lurching forward, her blade whirling into a blur of motion. The Rollmaster sneered and snapped his blade up across his body, arm twisting. His fingers spun, grip loosening as his saber caught and turned hers away. Atyiru’s deflected saber tore from her grasp, and Andrelious reversed his grip, stabbing at her exposed flank.

She took one quick step close, under his arm, pressing flush against him. His lightsaber skimmed across her lower back, her skin smoking. She keened lowly in her throat, but did not cry out. Her palm laid over his chest.

A terrible glow roared to life between her fingers. His eyes widened.

He heard the crackling pop as oxygen superheated. He smelled smoldering flesh. He felt a tingling sensation, all over, an awful pain down his arms and a sharp jolt in his heart.

Then, nothing.

-=x=-

Atyiru struggled to catch the Rollmaster as he dropped to the ground, just managing to keep his head from cracking open on the floor. Her muscles and nerves hissed at her, a dull, numb sort of roar. She knew, logically, that her back was terribly wounded. But the sensation was muted, thick layers of scars having long deadened most of the feeling there. It felt more like insects swarming beneath her sinew than actual pain.

Ignoring their discarded weapons and her injuries, the medic focused on repairing the damage she had just done to her friend’s heart, keeping his blood flowing. The Force enveloped them like a mother’s arms, tender and comforting.

When she was satisfied, she went about closing her own wound as much as possible, the effort more difficult in her exhaustion. Probably better to get help, the Miraluka reflected, taking up her comm from her belt and tabbing it on.

"This is Lady Entar," Atyiru said into the device, her tone taking on a business-like and unyielding authority usually reserved for an operating theater. "I have two incoming casualties to the medbay, myself included. Get ready. And have my personal shuttle prepped with provisions and credits enough to transport two people...well, make that two people and two infants to Alpheridies in the Farstey sector. Then, go collect Knight Mimosa-Inahj from the Rollmaster’s quarters, and meet me in the medbay to pick up your transports. Copy all that?" A pause for reply. "Good. Thank you, Jax. Next round’s on me.”

With a sigh, the Miraluka ended the call and waved at a pair of droids. “Mister Droids! Could you come help me transfer this man to a stretch, please? Thank you kindly!”

Turning to Andrelious’s limp form, she knelt beside him and gave another sigh around a tiny, glum smile. “You see, my friend, I have to protect those who cannot protect themselves, and that means those children. But that does not mean it is right to kill you or Cethgus. He isn’t a danger to you, Andrel. He may frak up, but he tries, and he tries honestly. That isn’t a death sentence. Not even if you hate him.” The droids brought the stretcher, and they loaded him on under her supervision. “I just wish you could trust me,” she whispered. “And perhaps, some day, forgive me this. Let’s go!”

Atyiru lingered only long enough at the bar to pay Mick his tab, and then limped after her patient’s entourage. She would deal with her brother’s anger later. For now, there was this, and there was violent peace.

With a shower of sparks, two lightsabers collided in mid-air. Andrelious pushed hard with his blade, trying to use his superior strength to break past the determined defences of the Archpriestess. Every single move attempted by the Rollmaster was countered almost perfectly by Atyiru, who used her agility to assist in blocking the fairly slow and lumbering blows that Inahj typically relied on. Though he appeared to be on the front foot, Inahj began to become incredibly frustrated at his inability to make progress.

“By fighting me, how are you even REMOTELY protecting Kooki? I know what I’m doing, Atyiru. Even you have killed to save lives.” Andrelious hissed angrily.

Atyiru frowned as she parried a half-hearted slash. “You’ve lost sight of everything important because of your stupid karking vendetta against my brother. The clan’s falling apart around you and you STILL insist on your petty little vengeance. How can you bring children up when you’re seething with resentment? They’ll grow up hating life itself. I won’t let you do that to Kooki’s children.”

Snaking his lightsaber around, Andrelious stabbed the weapon towards his target’s shoulder. The Archpriestess sidestepped away, but was immediately forced back onto the defensive as Inahj followed up with another vicious stabbing motion. Atyiru counter-attacked, trying hard to evade the Inquisitor’s sluggish defensive motions. Inahj was having none of it, however, and managed to force the female into a saber lock.

Pushing with every ounce of strength, Andrelious felt his lightsaber get closer and closer to his opponent’s body. Grimacing as he continued to force the issue, Inahj sensed something nearby. Hesitating for a moment, he withdrew from the lock, as if he were ending a training duel. Without a moment’s warning, he grabbed Atyiru, pulling her away from the nearby wall. A split-second later, a large explosion wrecked the wall. The shockwave of the explosion threw both Arconans back, slamming Andrelious feet first into a nearby chair. The ex-Imperial clambered to his feet, discovering that with great discomfort that he had broken an ankle in the impact. He quickly slumped back to the ground, desperate to escape the searing pain.

“They’ve broken out the heavy weapons. This Clan is done for!” Inahj yelled, realising what had happened almost immediately. Another large explosion destroyed the far end of the room. The Warlord recognised the sound of turbolaser fire. Part of the Arconan fleet was bombarding the Citadel. Masonry rained down on the room as the vicious attack on the Arconan Headquarters continued.

“Get down!” Atyiru cried, diving under one of the tables. Moments later, a large part of the ceiling gave way, filling the majority of the mess hall with debris. Daylight made its way into the ruined room, a bright, sunny afternoon juxtaposed against the horrors of the ongoing bombardment. Inahj peered upwards, attempting to identify the vessel that was inflicting the brutal punishment on its own assets. All he could ascertain was that B-Wings were assisting with the operation, dropping bombs across the Citadel and its immediate environs.

The Warlord hopped on his good foot towards another table. “They’re supposed to be a DEFENCE force! Who ordered a frakking Base Delta Zero?” Andrelious questioned.

“Andrel, this whole building is doomed. Are you able to move?” Atyiru asked, her mind long distracted from the duel.

The turbolaser fire ceased almost as suddenly as it had begun. Its end was followed by a shockwave that reverberated through what was left of the badly damaged citadel. Meanwhile, anti-starfighter weaponry began to cut through the B-Wings, forcing the remainder to flee to safety in the upper atmosphere.

“It would appear that we’re out of immediate danger, Atyiru, but I suggest we find Kooki, and anyone else willing to come, and get them out of here. Arcona’s going to destroy itself.” Andrelious stated, clutching his wounded ankle in an attempt to psychologically numb the pain.

“If I help you, Andrel, I want your word that you will never go after my brother again. I’m not asking you to love him, or even to stop hating him. But please. For me. For Kooki. Focus on being a father,” the Galeres Aedile declared, crawling on her hands and knees to her injured colleague.

Andrelious sneered. “Conditions on help? What happened to holistic care?”

Atyiru ignored the comment, grabbing the Rollmaster’s broken ankle. With one sudden movement, she forced the bones back into position, drawing a howl of anguish from Andrelious. Next, she called the remains of a support beam to her hand with the Force, cutting it to a manageable length with her lightsaber. She tied the beam to the Sith’s damaged foot.

“There. That’s not brilliant, and you’ll be slow, but it’s the best I can do right now. I’ll be able to do more once I get you to a medbay. Just don’t put too much weight on it,” the medic instructed.

Andrelious climbed slowly to his feet, being sure to use his good ankle to support his weight. “Find Kooki. Then we can all get out of here and find a safe place for the children. Away from here,” he said, noticeable wincing from the pain of standing with a broken bone.

Another large shockwave rippled through the air. This time, it was strong enough to knock both Dark Jedi to the floor. Further parts of the wrecked building shook violently, but held firm.

Looking into the sky, Andrelious saw with horror that the wreckage of a Majestic-class Heavy Cruiser had been caught in Selen’s gravity well. The ship’s carcass was heading swiftly towards them, gaining speed and heating up rapidly.

The remains of the Last Light collided with what was left of the Arconan Citadel. The impact generated a gigantic fireball, engulfing hundreds of beings in its burning wake. As the fireball faded into the sky, little was left of the once great Citadel.

Clan Arcona’s fleet was depleted, and its Headquarters were destroyed.

And Kookimarissia Mimosa-Inahj was a widow.