Archive of Our Own

Kleya grumbled as she stomped down the stairs of their shared home.

She pulled the hood of her red coat low over her eyes, glaring.

She hated riding with Luthen. He drove like he talked, too fast, veering wildly from point to point, with far too many hand gestures.

But her speeder bike was being serviced so she had no choice, none of the public transports got close enough to Yavin Academy.

She was still wearing her bike gear; at this point it doubled as her work uniform. Form fitting leather pants, heavy black boots, impact resistant jacket and a red shirt. Today she'd swapped the jacket for her lighter coat.

"Anyone would think you didn't want to go back!" Luthen teased as she tentatively lowered herself into the passenger seat of his ridiculously flashy hovercar.

She closed her eyes and gripped the grab bar.

He laughed at her as he set off, swerving into a gap that was rapidly closing, gunning the engine like a podracer. Kleya was glad she'd had a small breakfast.

Thankfully they didn't have too far to travel even without Luthen's pressing need for speed.

"Nearly there! See, we made it in one piece. You worry too much!" He slapped her thigh as she prised her eyes open.

"You spoke too soon, old man. Looks like Draven is about to claim your parking space." Kleya's smugness was short lived.

"No chance!"

Kleya reacted a fraction too slowly, face slamming into the dashboard as Luthen's midlife crisis shot forward to cut off the Coach.

"Kriff!" Kleya swore, blood exploding from her lip.

Draven's brakes shrieked as he made an emergency stop, Luthen laughing triumphantly as he took the space. Draven was making liberal use of his horn and hands.

"Don't get it on the seats!" Luther scolded, throwing her a handkerchief, putting the vehicle in park.

"This is exactly why I drive myself," Kleya growled around the rapidly reddening fabric.

Luthen finally got a good look at her and blanched.

"Oh gods, I'm sorry, Trouble. I didn't realise it was that....bad." He was wincing.

It must look awful, Kleya thought, if even Luthen looks guilty.

She scowled as she grabbed her bag and deliberately slammed the door too hard on Luthen's pride and joy. She took a spiteful pleasure at imagining his outrage.

Luthen scrambled free of his baby, almost trotting to catch up with his furious daughter.

~~~~~~

Mon Mothma, Provost of Yavin Academy, was not having a good start to her morning.

Her feckless husband had insisted she used her limo to drop him off at his club before she headed to work. It was completely the wrong side of Coruscant and now she was running behind, something she detested. It wasn't a good look for the public face of the institution.

Her blue robes were flying behind her as she made her way swiftly from the vehicle pool towards the rather impressive front doors.

She caught sight of Luthen Rael and his daughter walking across the gardens towards her.

She found her her mood lifting. There was something to look forward to for once.

Mon had known Luthen for years, most people on Coruscant did.

He was a celebrated author and pioneer in the field of Political Strategy. But Kleya had only been teaching under him at Yavin for 3 years, since Luthen's health scare.

His daughter had moved back home to take care of him. At his urging she'd retrained as a teacher and once she was qualified Luthen had petitioned the Academy to take her on to allow him to reduce his duties.

Rather than lose such a prestigious tutor the Academy had agreed. Kleya now took the first and second years, Luthen concentrated on the thirds.

Mon hadn't had much contact with the new woman during her first year.

She was notoriously private and kept to herself where possible. But reports on her teaching exceeded expectations, the students loved her.

Well, the ones who weren't terrified of her did. There were rumors circulating that she used to be a spy.

Grades in Kleya's classes were excellent. Mon had been quietly satisfied with the new arrangement.

As Kleya started to relax into the routine of Yavin, Mon would see her around. She'd occasionally accompany Luthen to events.

Her dark, lurking presence had always made Mon smile to herself. Kleya couldn't more obviously hate the social side of the Academy if she tried but she loved her father and tried to make him happy. Mon thought that was admirable.

The previous year had seen them grow unexpectedly closer.

Mon supervised a debate club Thursday evenings after classes and last year Kleya had stepped in for Luthen who usually co-hosted. He'd had an important external commitment he needed to attend to so he'd asked Kleya to fill in.

At first it had been something of a disaster. Mon was used to Luthen's smooth, charismatic style; Kleya in contrast was spiky and unpredictable.

While both Luthen and Kleya were ruthless, you felt it more from Kleya. She targeted weaknesses in arguments without hesitation and without sugar coating her counterpoints.

Luthen had more subtlety about him, Kleya was a wall of knives.

She was also more than happy to take the opposite of whatever side Mon chose, regardless of how outrageous it ended up. Her cunning extended to her research too, rarely could you catch Kleya out on statistics or other fine details.

It had left some of the students less experienced in public speaking quite traumatised. Mon had received a few complaints. She'd been contemplating suspending the club until Luthen could return.

Then one week Mon had been called away last minute and had asked Vel to cover her. Nobody else would do it, knowing who else was teaching. Mon had needed to beg and bribe but eventually Vel had relented.

Mon found out later that the two women had almost come to blows in the middle of the debate chamber. Mon had seen some of the footage the students had captured before their security department had confiscated it.

Vel and Kleya had been circling each other like angry rancors. Vel was bellowing, Kleya was replying quietly in that cutting tone she had. It was hard to make out who started throwing hands first but it was probably Vel, Mon reflected.

Eventually Kleya's voice had rung out dismissing the class and the students had fled as one.

It hadn't ended there.

The two had continued their verbal battle at a local bar.

Or so the report Mon received said.

They'd been thrown out, naturally. Vel had argued, once she was conscious and coherent, that they had merely been strongly encouraged to leave.

From what Mon had pieced together they'd continued fighting on the grounds of the school. Mon couldn't confirm as strangely Cinta, their head of security, said the footage had vanished.

What Mon did know for sure though was that Vel had stumbled back to her cousin's home, pissed as a porg, declaring to Mon and any of her dining chairs that would listen, that "Kleya's good people!"

After that, lunch period normally saw Kleya join Vel, Cinta and the little Rodian, Greeg, who had first befriended Kleya.

Mon had been bemused. Vel had insisted that you just had to get used to Kleya, that she wasn't that bad really.

It was high praise from Vel, who hated most of the other teachers unreservedly on principle.

So Mon had persevered. To her delight she found Vel was indeed correct.

Once you adjusted for Kleya's natural sharpness, you could see how passionate she was, how she tried to push you to succeed, to leave your comfort zone and see what you were capable of.

Mon decided rather than try to reign Kleya in, she would match her energy. It had worked wonders.

Mon realised she hadn't felt this kind of thrill since she'd been a senator.

The pleasure of locking wits with someone who was her intellectual equal. It was...immensely pleasurable.

She hadn't been challenged like this in years, even Luthen couldn't get her blood racing like this.

Some nights she'd had to have a glass of wine to calm herself before heading home.

She'd been secretly longing to get back to one of her few private pleasures. No one in Mon's personal life pushed her. She felt her mind grow stagnant over the long weeks of vacation. She was more than ready to take up arms again.

She self-consciously smoothed down her wild hair and straightened her robes.

Wait, was that blood?

"Kleya!" Mon greeted the younger woman warmly. Luthen had stopped to speak to one of his older students.

If Mon she was being honest, it wasn't just in the classroom she'd missed Kleya's sardonic presence. You always knew where you were with Kleya, it was so different to what Mon was experiencing at home. Refreshing.

"Professor Mothma," Kleya nodded politely. Mon had been trying to get the brunette to use her first name, at least when they weren't teaching, so far without success.

"Good grief, what happened to you?"

Up close Mon could see it was indeed blood splashed all over the younger woman's lower face.

"Luthen's driving." Kleya muttered.

"Here, take this," Mon produced a handkerchief from her bag and handed it to her.

"Thank you," Kleya swapped the sodden cloth for the fresh one.

Mon tried not to grimace. At least the bleeding seemed to be slowing.

"I sent you the debate schedule, have you had a chance to look at it?" Mon was eager to get back into the swing of things.

Kleya looked uncomfortable. Which was highly unusual for Kleya, even with a split lip. Mon was concerned.

Luthen reappeared and interrupted before she could enquire further.

"Sorry, Mon, I should have contacted you earlier - I'll be returning to debate this semester. My other commitments have ended and I've encroached on my girl's spare time enough," he said clapping his daughter companionably on the back.

Kleya flinched slightly. Mon knew the younger woman was uncomfortable with physical contact.

"Oh," Mon struggled to hide her disappointment. She'd rather been looking forward to sparring with Kleya again.

She forced herself to brighten. "Of course we'll be grateful to have you back, Luthen. I'm sure the students will be thrilled."

Luthen grinned back at her, completely oblivious to her internal conflict.

Mon looked to Kleya only to find the younger woman was already striding away, head down, Mon's handkerchief clutched to her face.

Mon found herself oddly out of sorts for the rest of the morning.

She put it down to first day anxiety.