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jackalopey · 2 years

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Title: Cross-Cultural Studies Fandom: Star Wars: The Old Republic Characters: Female Sith Inquisitor/Lord Kallig, Ashara Zavros Ships: Ashara Zavros & Female Sith Inquisitor. Pre-relationship but can be read purely platonic Description: Lord Kallig was searching for an apprentice. She got an Ashara instead. Prompt: Nobody warned you about me?

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The basics, Kallig understood. Apprentices were necessary. They were a symbol of strength. She needed them to increase her power-base, to keep herself from a painful death. Despite dear old (Great, Great, Great, Great… actually, she wasn’t entirely sure how many Greats were appropriate) grandad’s concerns, she was pretty sure that this was the right choice. Pretty sure.

Sure, the idea had come from Zash, who had stabbed her in the back and tried to steal her body once already, but the truth of it was, she was winging everything. Her knowledge of Sith life was pretty limited to ‘zapping things’ and ‘trying to not get killed’. Despite the body-snatching-back-stabbing, Zash had lived a life as a Sith. She knew how these things worked, and keeping Kallig alive was logical for her, for now. So the advice was, probably, genuine.

There were just a couple of snags.

The first being that Kallig didn’t have the first idea of how to mentor someone. The second being that her alleged apprentice was clearly significantly more knowledgeable than she was.

Ashara had spent her life as a Jedi. She had said that she had been with the Order since she was five years old. Her knowledge of the Force, of philosophy, of lightsaber duelling - all of it was already complex, well-established, and better structured than Kallig’s own method of trial and error.

Granted, Ashara’s teachers had been Jedi. Kallig, probably, had a better understanding of the Sith way than Ashara did. But every time that she tried to impart her knowledge, she was met with arguing. Debate, that she wasn’t entirely sure how to counter. She tried her best, and she thought that she was even giving Ashara something to think about, but she felt like she was walking in the dark, with no idea if she was about to step off of a cliff.

Frankly, she felt less like Ashara’s master, and more like a child playing pretend. It didn’t feel real. She didn’t feel as if she had any authority over Ashara, and the worst part was, she wasn’t sure if she really wanted to.

All in all, it was a mess.

In battle, Kallig didn’t feel like herself.

Her body moved, her lightsaber defended her, sparks flew from her fingers. But she wasn’t there. It was as if she was watching what happened from a distance - like she was an observer of herself, rather than a participant in the fight.

She heard others describe battle as rage-inducing. She had heard the term ‘the heat of battle’ many times in the past. She couldn’t understand it. When she fought, she felt out of control, but not due to any all-encompassing emotion. She felt out of control because whatever tie connected her soul to her body had been severed, leaving something that reacted rather than thinking, some almost droid-like creature that existed to serve only one objective: survive.

Lightning cascaded from her hands, and a scream filled the room. Ashara won her own battle, and turned to Kallig.

The victim of Kallig’s onslaught writhed on the floor. Emotionless pink eyes stared down at him.

“Master, that’s enough.” Ashara said, approaching cautiously.

Kallig didn’t react to her. It was a wonder that the man wasn’t unconscious. The pain must have been unbearable.

“Look at him. He’s done. This is just cruel.”

Still, there was no reaction.

Frustrated, desperate, or foolish, Ashara stepped forwards. She put a hand on Kallig’s shoulder.

“Kallig. Stop.”

The lightning stopped, and the man slumped down. Somehow, he survived.

Kallig stared at the man, unblinking. Then, as if a switch had been pressed, she whirled on Ashara, eyes narrowed. Ashara retreated, her body tense as she prepared to defend herself.

“You don’t tell me what to do.” Kallig said, her voice eerily calm, but her presence in the Force that a mere moment ago had felt blank now came alive, anger pooling around her.

“What.” Ashara responded in disbelief, “You won. He was defeated. Yet you stood there torturing him. I will not set aside my morals for you, master.”

Kallig took a step forward, then another. Ashara didn’t move - instead, she kept eye contact with her, glaring defiantly up at her. When she was in front of her, Kallig finally spoke again:

“I am Sith, Ashara. Did nobody warn you about me?”

That was met with an eye roll. “Please. I’ve watched you. I don’t know what you are, but you’re barely a Sith.”

For some reason, that struck Kallig. She felt a pit of cold emotion claw at her, and she felt an almost overwhelming urge to lash out at Ashara, to keep her from ever saying such a thing again. It took her a moment to recognise the emotion as fear.

She wanted to silence the unruly Jedi. She wanted to keep her from spreading her – - lies? Truths? She wasn’t sure – - she wanted to ensure that no one would ever speak back to her, no one would make demands of her, no one would hold her to any expectations. Not now, not ever. Her fist clenched by her side. It would be easy. So easy. It would be– -

Kallig took a step backward. Then another. She turned her back on Ashara, and looked down at the charred body. Still alive. Still breathing. But in pain.

“Tell me, Ashara. What would you do in my place?”

“...I would heal him.”

A strangled laugh left Kallig. “Really? Heal him of the tortures, as you put it, that I caused?”

Ashara let out a frustrated huff. “I don’t know, Kallig! I haven’t tortured anyone before!”

Silence fell between them. Kallig kept staring at the body. There was another uncomfortable feeling in her stomach. Shame. This was neither the first nor the last time she had done something like this. Why was she feeling this? Did Ashara…?

Kallig shut her eyes for a moment, before turning around again, sweeping past Ashara out of the room. Ashara hesitated, before following her.

“Go back to the ship. I need Khem. If you want to take pity, contact a medic.”

She felt a ripple of confusion from Ashara, but the other girl didn’t argue this time. “Of course, My Lord.”

Ashara looked over the monitors in the engine room. Andronikos had explained to her what they all meant, and she was running through his words in her head. She would never be a mechanic, but it was good knowledge to have, and another way to occupy her mind. Not every waking moment had to be spent obsessing over her circumstances. It was better to have a clear head when dealing with the Sith.

The Sith… she confused Ashara.

One moment, she would be joking around, gentle and approachable. She could never be mistaken for a Jedi, but in those moments, Ashara felt that she could see through the act she performed in public to the person hiding in her core. Sometimes, she even surprised Ashara with acts of mercy, made casually, with no ulterior motive, as if they were simply the right thing to do.

Then, the mask would return, and she would stand torturing a defenceless man with that expression of apathy. She would respond to Ashara’s challenges with anger or fear, rather than the open curiosity that Ashara knew that she was capable of.

But as quickly as the cruelty had emerged, it would be gone again. Not quite as if it had never happened, but she didn’t seem to dwell on it. It was as if as soon as a situation was over, she was ready to move on and forget all about it. No reflection. No remorse.

The Sith had, at least, never raised a hand against Ashara - or any of her travelling companions, for that matter. But Ashara would not be grateful for the absolute bare minimum.

Not for the first time, Ashara questioned her choice in being here. Her masters would surely disapprove, but… they weren’t here to voice their opinions anymore. Guilt rose up in her. Who’s fault was that? If she’d just…

A knock interrupted her thoughts.

That was another thing about the Sith. She had never invaded Ashara’s privacy. She had openly challenged Ashara, and had given her orders, but Ashara had never felt pressured or forced into doing anything that she didn’t want to do. Sometimes she would become angry or frustrated with Ashara’s refusal to do what she wanted, but that was it. Ashara knew that if she sent her away now, she would leave.

It wasn’t what she had expected from a Sith.

Ashara didn’t look towards her as she spoke. “Can I help you?”

“Let’s talk.”

Ashara heard the Sith walk further into the room, until she was standing a few feet away from her. Ashara looked down at the console again, before slowly turning to face her.

The Sith’s hood was down, her scarred face fully visible. Pink eyes looked at her, something unreadable in them. Ashara looked at her with a neutral expression. “Go on, then.”

“This,” The Sith gestured vaguely between the two of them, “isn’t working.”

“I noticed.”

She sighed, bringing a clawed hand up to rub down her face. She seemed conflicted. She brought her hand down, and paused. Hesitated. Then, she turned and walked back towards the exit. Ashara wondered if that would be it - if she had changed her mind about whatever it was she wanted to say - but, instead, she hit the button beside the open doorway, shutting them in and giving them complete privacy.

She had never done anything like that before. Ashara felt a spark of nervousness that she chased away. If the Sith wanted away with her, there would be no need to shut the door. While Ashara got along well enough with Andronikos, she couldn’t imagine him leaping to her defence, and she was sure that Khem would be all too happy to devour her.

The Sith paced, the movement not doing much to help quell Ashara’s anxiety.

“I don’t like the Jedi, Ashara. I don’t like the Republic. You know this. However, I can’t deny that they have some… knowledge. It is deeply, deeply flawed, but there may be a degree of worth to it. You have been raised by them since you were a young child - you have an in-depth understanding of how they function, their strategies, their philosophies, their lore.”

The Sith’s words came out quickly, as if she was speaking every word that came to her mind. Ashara tried to follow along, and bit back the retort she wanted to say in response to the Sith’s blatant disrespect of the Order.

“You have knowledge. This inspires your actions. You have morals and ethics, you have a way of seeing the world. Perhaps you don’t know who you are yet, but there is a strength in you. You speak your mind, regardless of the situation, regardless of who you are speaking to. You… listen, but you do not back down. You do not compromise who you are.”

Ashara stayed silent as the Sith spoke, trying to hide her surprise at, what seemed to be, a series of genuine compliments.

“This causes a problem for me.”

Ashara blinked, and finally spoke. “What problem?”

The Sith ran a hand through her hair. “You are my apprentice. I must shape you, mould you. Pass on my knowledge to you. It is expected of me. It is necessary. But I do not feel like your master, Ashara. You do not feel like my apprentice. I- I could force it. I know that’s what… others would want me to do. I don’t want to do that. I won’t do that.”

Ashara processed what the Sith had said, and paused. Then frowned.

“Wait. You’re saying- you’re saying that you respect me.”

The Sith stopped pacing. Her hand stilled in its position in her hair. Gradually, she turned to look at Ashara, her eyes wide and startled.

“Oh.” She said, “I think that I am.”

The two remained staring at one another, silence stretching between them. Ashara broke it by letting out a confused laugh.

“So what’s the problem?”

The Sith groaned. “This isn’t how it was meant to go! The respect I would command if I had a fallen Jedi for an apprentice… but I just- I can’t.”

“It’s not a bad thing.” Ashara said. “If you tried to make me fall, I would ensure that you faced retribution.”

“Retribution isn’t very Jedi of you.”

“Respect isn’t very Sith of you.”

Silence stretched between them again, but this time, Ashara somehow found that it wasn’t uncomfortable. Perhaps Kallig’s honesty had influenced her in some way.

“Earlier…” Kallig spoke hesitantly. “Did you… get that man help?”

Ashara nodded. “I don’t know what happened to him after that. But I said that I had found him in that state.”

Kallig looked towards the ground. “...Thank you, Ashara. I… please, keep being honest with me. I don’t… like the Jedi. But I- ah- I want to learn from you.”

Kallig sounded almost pained as she spoke, as if she had to fight with herself to get the word out. Ashara stared. She couldn’t remember the last time that someone had truly valued her opinion.

“Am I the master now?” Ashara asked, a lightly teasing tone to her voice.

Kallig’s gaze snapped back up to her. “Don’t push your luck.”

Ashara smiled, and after a moment, Kallig hesitantly smiled back.

Maybe, Ashara thought. Maybe this hadn’t been such a terrible idea after all.

#fictober22 #swtor #sith inquisitor #ashara zavros #quizzi #ashara

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