A pair of massive, ancient doors loom at the entrance to the throne room. Upon opening, they give way to a large chamber with a high ceiling carved smoothly into stone. The chamber itself is the size of a professional holo-ball court but the hard-tile flooring has been sandblasted to perfection and patterned symmetrically throughout. Tall, rounded pillars frame a center dais that forms an elevator platform. Perfectly centered on the low platform is the heart of Clan Arcona's power—the Serpentine Throne. The ornate throne stands several feet above the head of even the tallest Shadow Lords. The dais is back lit by an ever glowing wall of flame that attunes itself to the order-color of the current Consul. A sable carpet trimmed with white lays down over the shallow steps and continues all the way towards the entrance doors.

The Throne Room is completely soundproofed and almost feels like entering a vacuum. Voices carry easily, but never leave the chamber. A combination of alchemy and engineering allow the room to be shut off from the rest of the Citadel while maintaining proper ventilation for the unique curtain of flame. It maintains a steady if not warm room temperature, ignorant to the climate outside and throughout the Citadel's ancient walls.

Perhaps the most defining feature of the Throne Room is the wall of flames that curtain behind the throne itself.

The throne room stood empty, devoid of the usual diplomats, bureaucrats and sycophants that could usually be found there. Most of the lights within the hall had been dimmed for the evening, leaving the wall of fire behind the throne as the primary source of light. The flames, green and gold to reflect the tastes of the current Shadow Lady, cast deep shadows that danced and swayed amid the pillars.

The oppressive silence that hung heavily over the throne room was abruptly broken by a sudden rush of air. The massive double doors at the south end of the hall were pushed open and a single figure strode into the room. The Gungan, tall, scarred, and armored, paused just inside the doorway long enough to cast their sickly yellow eyes around the room. The absence of guards drew a twisted grimace that could have been a smile to their lips, and they began to stride toward the throne as if they had every right to be there.

The great metal doors swung shut on silent hinges, closing with a deep throom. Silence tried once more to settle over the room, but was broken by the scuffing of the Gungan’s boots on the stone. As they drew nearer to the seat of Arconan power, the Sith spoke, further defiling the silence with their gravelly voice. “At las. Da Serpentine Throne.”

The Gungan Sith had not been expecting any kind of response, but they got one anyway: a throaty chuckle touched the mangled remains of their ears, followed by words spoken in a lilting feminine voice. “Well, well, well. Yeet Yolo.”

At first, the words sounded like they were coming from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Yeet glanced around, searching for the source. With every spoken word, their point of origin became more and more apparent: the throne itself.

“You are just as precious as I thought you would be.” With these words, Lucine Vasano appeared. She rested her elbows on the armrests, her crimson-painted lips turned upward in a smirk, very aware of the fact that she looked like the very image of a queen. Her copper curls were piled artfully atop her head, and the gems that were woven into her hair sparkled in the firelight. The emerald fire caused her eyes to take on an ethereal glow. The black silk of her gown was perfectly cut to drape artfully over the arms and on the floor around her feet, giving the impression that she and the throne were one.

Several seconds passed as Yeet stared up at her. They blinked first with one eye, and then the other. They considered this change in circumstances, before giving a low snort under their breath. “Am mesa supposed to be impressed? Because mesa no be impressed.”

“Then you are blind as well as foolish,” Lucine replied. “You are also late. I expected you a few hours ago.”

The mangled remains of Yeet’s left ear twitched as her words struck home. They had told no one about their plans, and no one had followed them. But somehow, this harlot had become aware of their plans, and was presumably here to stop them. The Gungan laughed, a twisted and tortured noise that was more akin to nails on a chalkboard than a sound of amusement. “Ohhhh lookie, lookie! A dumb-dumb girlie thinks shesha biggen bad Sith. Do yousa think yousa can stop mesa, girlie? Yousa can’t. Yousa weak. Get offa mesa throne, now.”

“I think not, darling. I have worked far too hard to achieve it to give it up so easily,” Lucine replied with an enigmatic smile.

“The yousa will die” Yeet snarled. The Gungan thrust their scarred hand toward her, fingers curling into claws. Lightning exploded from their palm and arced toward her. The redhead did not have a chance to move as the jagged bolts of twisted energy struck her square in the chest. Yeet grinned cruelly, expecting screams of pain and the smell of burning hair and flesh.

Instead, the woman disappeared.

Their eyes narrowed as they scowled up at the now empty throne. Cold laughter echoed off of the walls, causing their scowl to deepen.

“Did you really think it would be so easy?” The redhead slipped out from behind one of the columns that lined the hall, one hand lightly tracing the stone. Yeet only grunted in reply and sent lightning arcing toward this new target. Like before, the Force Lightning tore right through her, leaving a greasy black scorch mark on the pillar. The illusion vanished.

“I know who you are, Yeet Yolo. I know your tactics. I know your abilities. I know what you are capable of.”

This time, the voice came from behind him. Yeet whirled and drew upon the Force again to throw crackling, blood-red death at the Human. This time, she vanished before the energy even reached her. The Gungan growled quietly under their breath. “Den yousa know how much mesa gonna make yousa suffer before mesa kill yousa.”

They curled their fingers into a fist as they surveyed the room carefully. She was toying with them, and they hated her for it. But in addition to the white-hot rage that was their constant companion, they also felt a burning agony that was beginning to spread up their arm. It was a sign that they were starting to overextend themselves. It was time to consider new tactics. “Mesa thinks mesa will start by breaking yousa jaw. And mesa will end with yousa dying.”

“This fight will end when I say it does,” came the reply. This time, Lucine emerged from behind the throne. She stood there, framed in the firelight as she made a gesture toward him. “It will end when you throw down your lightsaber and kneel before me.”

Yeet ground their teeth as they felt the gentle caress of her Force-laden words against their mind. But instead of feeling compelled to do as she said, they felt… nothing. They gave another high-pitched, mocking laugh. “Is dat da most good yousa can do, girlie? Like mesa said. Weak.”

“I suppose we shall see,” Lucine replied in a voice dripping with poison. This was a rare event for her. No one to impress or to ply with false niceties. She could be free to be herself and it was so refreshing. “You were a fool to come here, but I am glad you did. You have been so busy, collecting all those Sith holocrons and artifacts. I am looking forward to taking them from you. I am looking forward to tearing all that hard-won knowledge out of that misshapen head of yours.” Her lips turned upward into a cruel smile. “And I look forward to stealing your life energy and using it to strengthen my own.”

It was just as Yeet had predicted: the redhead liked to talk. They could certainly understand the impulse. After all, monologuing was a favorite pastime of theirs. They let her talk as they focused upon the energies around them, searching for Lucine’s hiding place. Gradually, they began to sense her presence, right where she appeared to be.

They allowed themselves a low chuckle of satisfaction as they turned to fully face the Human who stood next to the throne. “Dumb-dumb girlie. Yousa talken too much!”

They extended their hand and sent lashing tongues of electric death arcing toward her. In a blink, Lucine’s lightsaber flared to life moments before the lightning crackled as it collided with her weapon. She swept the blade to the side with a flourish, before falling into a defensive stance.

It was all the proof that they needed. They gave a howl of triumph as they drew upon their rage and used it to channel the Force energy directly to their muscles. They ignited their crimson lightsaber as they crossed the distance in half the time it would have taken a normal person, before lashing out in a controlled duelist’s strike.

Their blades collided with a shower of sparks and crackling energy as Lucine raised her own blade to block the blow. For a moment, they stood there, frozen in a contest of strength. Yeet leered at her. “Mesa gonna killl yousa nice and slow.”

Red and green blades clashed, putting the Shadow Lady on the defensive as the Gungan’s greater strength slowly pushed back her guard. Her jaw was set, and Yeet thought there was already a sheen of sweat on her delicate brow. Yeet felt an inkling of the Force flowing through the girlie moments before she cracked a smirk and pushed them back with surprising strength, saber lashing out against their own, forcing them back down the steps.

“Oh, yousa thinks yousa so bombad smart?” growled the Gungan, “How long can yousa keep that up, girlie?”

Still, Yolo was pushed down the steps, her enhanced strength making the Adept fume internally. They drew on this anger as they stumbled down the last stairs to the throne room below the dais, taking a chance. Yeet threw their saber towards the redhead, watching her eyes widen in surprise at the reckless move. Instead of directing the crimson blade, as would be expected, the Gungan lashed out the moment her eyes followed the weapon’s arc. The telekinetic blow landed in her midsection, driving air from her lips and forcing the woman to stumble back towards the flames behind her throne.

With a gesture, Yeet stilled the lightsaber hilt that clattered across the floor, raising it back up and sending it lancing towards her. The Adept was sweating inside their armor, they hadn’t anticipated exerting themselves so much, so quickly but now it was a race against the chrono. Either Lucine Vasana would kill them, they would kill her, or some Arconan guards would come rushing to her aid and the Gungan would be forced to flee.

Lucine let the strength she had given her limbs through the Force go, redirecting the energies to control the flow of oxygen through herself instead after the telekinetic sucker punch. She stepped aside moments before the blackened hilt’s blade could skewer her into the side of her own seat of power, glaring at the Gungan as they summoned the weapon back to their armored palm with an ominous clank.

“This would all be...so much simpler...if you just did as you were told, Yolo, and kneel” her words came out harsher now, still catching her breath. Yeet felt a tingling in the back of their mind as if she were trying to influence them once more. They shook it off with a guttural laugh.

“Yousa trying again? Mesa give you points for stubbornness, if not originality, girlie,” chuckled the Adept. They began to ascend the stairs again, lightsaber humming menacingly as they approached the trickster female. She fought with words and illusions, she had no hope of standing toe to flipper with one as mighty as they, Yeet Yolo, in single combat. “Yousa shoulda given up, girlie, yousa no match. When yousa was messing with silly tricks and weaving illusions, mesa was practicing the blade!”

Yeet punctuated this declaration with an overhead swipe of said blade. They were incredibly surprised, shocked even when the redhead lifted her right arm and knocked it aside with a short backhand. Something on the arm shimmered, an illusion that the woman had somehow managed to hold on to this whole time to hide an advantage...and a prize from the Adept.

Shesa have something that can block a saber? Mesa. Must. Have. thought the Gungan, yellowed eyes gleaming inside their helm. So distracted with their avarice, Yeet barely caught the warning from the Force and committed as they were, braced for the inevitable lightsaber plunging into their armor. What they hadn’t seen was her drop her hilt to her belt and grab a small pouch, which she now flung into the face of the Adept’s helmet. Yeet shouted, backpedaling as the dust within filled every crevice of the armor, breathing it in, feeling it sting their eyes.

Lucine watched in amusement as the Gungan tore the red helmet from their head and flung it across the room in anger, yellowed eyes blinking, the taller Sith stumbling and…

There, she thought smugly, waving her hand in a forward motion and directing her will with it, giving the Adept a nudge as he neared the edge of the dais once more. Yeet Yolo let out an undignified screech as their balance abruptly shifted, looking for a step that wasn’t where it should, and tumbled back down to the polished stone of the throne room floor.

Worst of all, to the Gungan, was that Yeet Yolo was doing something they hadn’t done since their cracked psyche had formed into the person before Vasano. They were crying, eyes trying to flush the blinding dust from themselves as rage bubbled and frothed over the Adept.

“Mesa...gonna...mesa gonna make sure yousa suffer,” they growled, pushing up from the floor, eyes blurrily searching for their fallen saber hilt.

“Oh, oh my dear, should I get you some water? I thought Gungans were meant to be a moisturized people. Though I suppose your tears may do the trick, darling,” laughed Lucine, regaining some of her poise as she leaned against the side of the throne.

“When mesa done with you, girlie, yousa gonna be a dried-up husk,” snarled Yeet, giving up finding their fallen weapon, and instead, grabbed the other half of the compound hilt from their waist. “Is just a matter of time.”

“Well, I suppose you would know a thing or two about being dried-out,” Lucine replied. She gave him a disdainful look, taking in his reddened, irritated and tear-filled eyes. “Really, darling, I am beginning to think that your reputation is over-exaggerated.”

“Yousa think so?” Yeet growled through ground teeth as they glared up at her through the blur of tears. They scrubbed the tears from their eyes as they seethed with hatred for the redhead who dared to make a fool of them.

But hatred and rage were their constant companions, and they knew how to use them. The Gungan took a deep breath, drawing energy from the seemingly endless well of negative emotions and sending it flowing like liquid fire through his muscles. Their lightsaber flared to life at their side as they took one step, then another toward the redhead.

Lucine narrowed her eyes as she watched the Gungan slowly close the distance between them with one deliberate step at a time. She could almost feel Yeet’s anger bubbling just below the surface. If she could just keep pushing, maybe she could make them angry enough to make a fatal error.

“Definitely over-exaggerated,” she said with an insolent smirk as she fell into a defensive posture. She made a come hither gesture with her free hand. “Come now, darling. I am starting to become— ”

Before she could finish speaking, Yeet darted forward. They swung their lightsaber down in a devastating overhand blow that nearly tore Lucine’s weapon from her grip. She hastily gripped the hilt of her sword in both hands, just in time to block a lightning-fast side thrust, then a second, and then a third.

Their lightsabers crackled and threw sparks as they clashed together, and Lucine risked a quick gesture as she tried another illusion.

Out of the corner of their eye, Yeet saw their missing lightsaber come arcing toward their head. The Gungan ducked out of the way of the flying weapon and then deflected Lucine’s blade as she sought to capitalize on their distraction. It was Yeet’s turn to be on the defensive as they knocked aside a thrust aimed toward their midsection.

Meanwhile, the airborne weapon curved around and came soaring back at him, whirling like a deadly crimson disk. Yeet risked a quick glance toward it, their yellow eyes narrowing at the sight of it. There was something amiss about the situation, and the Gungan suspected that they knew exactly what was going on.

As the flying lightsaber spun closer, Yeet drew upon their anger, allowing it to coalesce around their fist. Lucine darted forward with a thrust aimed toward their midsection, they turned aside the attack, even as they threw their fist forward to direct the energy into the redhead’s midsection. The blow knocked the breath out of her, causing her to stumble backward as the illusory lightsaber vanished.

Yeet cackled with glee as they thrust their hand forward once more. This time, the invisible energy impacted against the redhead’s hand, shattering bones and sending her lightsaber flying.

“Yousa see?” Yeet crowed as they lashed out with a vicious backhand aimed at the woman’s face that caused her to crumple to the ground. “Yousa be weak.” They punctuated their statement with a kick to her ribcage. “Yousa be worthless.” Another kick to the ribs, accompanied by the satisfying sound of bones breaking. “Yousa no be a true Sith. Yousa be a dumb-dumb girlie who mistaken tricks for real powah.” They lashed out with every word of their monologue, raining blows upon the Human.

They reached down and hauled Lucine to her knees by her now blood-stained curls before jamming their unignited lightsaber beneath her chin. “And now, yousa be a dead dumb-dumb girlie. Beg, and maybe mesa will maken it quick.”

Lucine’s breath came in ragged gasps as she brought her shattered hand up in a vain attempt to free herself from the Gungan’s grip. But she didn’t speak at first, and for a moment Yeet thought that she wasn’t going to. Then, her lips turned upward in a grimace that could have been a smile. “Thith fight— “ she said, struggling to speak despite her newly broken jaw. “Thith fight ith ended.”

Yeet’s sickly yellow eyes narrowed as the redhead’s words from earlier returned to him. This fight will end when I say it does. It will end when you throw down your lightsaber and kneel before me. They had felt the whisper of the Force as it had brushed against their mind, but there had not been any compulsion accompanying it. Not at that moment, anyway.

With the trigger fulfilled, Yeet felt a sudden urge to drop their weapon and kneel. Their lightsaber slipped from suddenly nerveless fingers as they threw all of their focus into resisting the command. They would not kneel. They would never kneel.

Their knees bent but did not buckle, and the compulsion faded after a few seconds. They glared down at her. “Yousa will pay,” they hissed as they glanced around in search of their dropped lightsaber.

It didn’t take them long to find it: Lucine held it in her unbroken hand, and she ignited it as soon as their gaze landed upon it. Crimson plasma shot forward, upward and at an angle, searing through the top part of Yeet’s thigh and into their pelvis. They howled in surprise and pain as Lucine jerked her arm upward, bisecting the Gungan’s abdomen and chest.

Yeet fell to the ground with a heavy thud, sickly yellow eyes staring up at Lucine in surprise and anger. Their vision was already starting to go dark, but it didn’t stop them from reaching toward her, fingers curled into claws as they tried to summon one last burst of lightning to burn the redhead from existence.

But no lightning came.

Lucine remained on her knees as Yeet’s ragged breaths slowed, and their hand finally fell limply to the floor. When the Gungan’s breathing finally stopped, she allowed the lightsaber to clatter to the stone floor.

Though the world spun wildly and darkness danced at the edge of her vision, she dragged her broken body to sit upon the Serpentine Throne once more. Once there, she took a deep breath, as deep as her shattered ribs would allow.

Bones would mend. Torn muscle and cut flesh would heal. Bruises would vanish. Only one thing mattered: that the throne remained hers.

The blade erupted with a snap-hiss, a crimson flash that only highlighted the dampness on the Gungan’s cheeks as they seethed in anger and wounded pride.

“And when I am done with you, Yolo, you will be broken at my feet,” she replied smugly, using the time in which her foe recovered from his fall to catch her breath. She drew her saber hilt once more, letting out a long, steady breath. The quirk of her lips, her stance, everything suggested pure confidence. She had planted her seeds, she had bought her time to let them grow. “We could simply skip to the end, Darling, where you kneel and accept your fate,” he commanded. Even the simple act of trying to force her will on the Gungan was becoming taxing.

This has to end soon, she thought to herself.

Yeet grunted midstep, feeling their body try to betray them, to fold itself to the floor at the redhead’s words, but again shook it off with grit teeth. One booted foot clanked on to a step, then the next, as the Adept ascended the dais, gripping their weapon in a tight fist, offhand flexing from fist to open as they watched the woman for an opening. At the top of the steps, still frustratingly near the prized throne, Lucine turned to present her right profile, saber held above her in line with the stone floor. Yolo recognized the classic Soresu form, one they themselves had mastered.

Girlie is playing for time. Wesa made a whole lotta noise in here. Guards coming soon. No throne tonight, but other prizes, the Gungan’s eyes flitted to her right forearm.

Yeet swung hard and fast, seeking to overpower the smaller woman rather than test their abilities any further. She backed away, leaning away from the initial blow before sidestepping and parrying the next strike, refusing to take the full force of the attacks. Yolo could tell she was taxed, sweat was sticking curls of red hair to her face, and while both of them were moving more sluggish than they had started, she was a creature of deceit and not a warrior. If the Adept had more time the entire farce would be decided.

They didn’t have the time though, thrusting their saber towards her midsection in hopes of a decisive blow, hissing in frustration as she knocked it aside with a grunt. The Gungan’s offhand pushed forward, a burst of telekinetic energy at the ready to knock the impertinent Arconan back towards the fiery wall. The move was, perhaps, too telegraphed, too obvious, as Lucine used the momentum of her parry to spin on her heel and suddenly take the offense, her green saber stabbing into the Adept’s armored forearm.

A howl was drawn from them as the armor’s mag-coils tried to stop the blade from cutting deeply, and the damaged piece of armor seized up. Yeet found themselves with one useless hand suddenly and could sense rising confidence from their foe as their cry of pain echoed throughout the throne room. It was Lucine’s turn to push forward, a telekinetic shove that hit the armored Sith in his core and sent him…sprawling back down the steps once more.

“A constant, uphill battle for you, isn’t it? You should stick to the waters you know, Yolo,” she said, clicking her tongue and taking the stairs, each step growing more imperious as she drew herself up to her full height. She was running out of steam but was determined not to show it, gathering her remaining strength for one last play. She watched Yeet struggle down on the flagstones to rip off the ruined armored glove, exposing yet more of the Gungan’s disgusting, scaley skin. As the Adept began to get back to their feet she stuck out a hand, fingers splayed and palm down, exerting the Force once more. “Stay down there,” she managed to say, just hiding the strain, “or rather…kneel.”

Yeet was winded, tired, annoyed, and too angry to focus as they tried to get to their feet, and found themselves stopping halfway up, a rictus of anger and pain on their face. They were on their knees before this stupid little girlie, the repeated commands and suggestions having finally wormed their way past his will.

“Your weapon…you no longer need it, toss it aside,” she commanded, and Yeet found themselves complying. The blackened hilt clattered away into the darkness as the Adept strained against these new mental chains. A cool hand dropped to the Gungan’s scarred brow, just the fingertips touching their dry skin. “And now, Yeet Yolo, you will finally be of some use,” smirked Lucine as she began to draw the Adept’s very essence from them to rejuvenate herself.

This how I go? No, no! shrieked Yeet inside their own mind. Wesa worked too hard, gave up too much, this not how the legend of Yolo ends!

Lucine smirked as she felt strength returning to her, eyes lidded as she savored the strange, fishy flavor of her newest living battery. She blinked as she felt movement, and sensed a spike of danger through the Force before the unarmored hand of her victim closed around her arm. Yellowed eyes glared up at her as the grip tightened, to the point of pain, drawing a hiss from the Shadow Lady and breaking contact from the Gungan’s head.

“How?” she managed as the vice-like grip grew stronger. She thought she could hear the bones in her arms grinding together. “You were broken!”

“Mesa was momentarily off mesa step,” hissed back the Gungan, returning the favor and drawing energy from the Human before them. “Yousa clever, but yousa still dumb, girlie, trying to do too many things as once.”

Divided my concentration, he broke free of the domination? she thought, gritting her teeth through the pain, feeling herself growing weaker with each passing moment. “So, you intend to take my throne then?”

Yeet howled in laughter, using their hold on her to drag Lucine up the steps, forcing the redhead to stumble and fall, before he pushed her into the Serpentine Throne. Their grip never relented, drawing her life force from her even as they settled her in the seat of power. At this point, it looked a mockery.

“Yousa’s people would not accept me. Yousa’s guards is coming, so no time to move it. Mesa will return one day,” the Gungan stated, reaching over to strip the bracer from her right arm. Yeet held it up before her and smirked, “For now, this is mesa’s prize.”

The Adept glanced down the steps, towards the entrance of the throne room, what was left of their ears twitching, “Yousa’s guards is coming, right on cue, mesa let you live in shame.”

Releasing their grip, Yeet looked down at her, “Pathetic,” they spat and turned, running into the darkness as the doors to the throne room opened.

“My Lady! We heard the sounds of bat— oh by the Force,” said the guard commander, coming to an abrupt stop, looking up at the woman on the throne. He turned to one of the troopers with him, hissing a quick order before the man ran off. He cleared his throat and looked up at the Shadow Lady. “My Lady, we have sent for one of the…more unruly war orphans, as per your protocols.”

She narrowed her eyes, hazy as they were, and nodded, before resting her head in her hand. She blinked, eyes growing wide as she looked at her fingers. They were narrow, the skin taut, pallid. Lucine shook her head slowly, dislodging some curls that flitted down into her vision, her vibrant red greyed and white, and worst of all dull and split. She reached up to touch her face, and found…

No!

…wrinkles!?

“YOLO!” she screeched, nearly passing out from the exertion.

Somewhere in the dark, making their way from the Citadel, a Gungan laughed in a hacking manner, feeling more alive than they had in years.