Aria had bolted towards her father without thinking, without considering that it would leave her open to Bracknell’s attack. Thankfully, Yerbol drove forward and occupied his attention, which allowed her to sink to her knees carefully beside the Sith Lord, who was barely breathing.
“Never could...do as you were told.” he sighed. “Told you, you’d be the death of me one day…”
“Daddy, no we’ll...we’ll get you back to a shuttle and get a medpac on it you’ll be f-fine!” Aria choked out, feebly trying to put pressure on the wound though there would be no blood coming out of it due to the lightsaber’s almost instant cauterizing effect. 
“No.” Roan managed to shake his head, murmuring. “Listen...I’ve done my bit...now you have to do yours...finish what we started...if he’s...got any brains left...he’ll be pissing himself...you two can...beat him…”
Aria wanted to protest, her hands shaking as she slowly sank back onto her haunches, glancing up at Yerbol as she felt the surge of energy flowing through her body from Renso. HE was Renso?! 
“Hey.” her father was smiling. ACTUALLY smiling, for the first time she could remember since she had been a little girl. “I’m...proud of you. You’d have made...one hell of a Darth, kiddo.” and that would be the last thing Roan ever said to her.
She expected to cry. To feel utterly lost for what she would do without him. But no tears came. Only white hot, searing rage. She looked up again to glimpse Yerbol beckoning her to join him, as their eyes locked she nodded and rose to her feet, skirting carefully around Roan’s body to stand at his side. 
__________________________

If murder had had a look personified, it was reflected in Aria’s eyes at that moment. And it TERRIFIED Bracknell. 

His step faltered, only briefly, which gave the duo time to execute their signature move, though Bracknell quickly recovered, flinging Yerbol backwards before twisting to avoid Aria’s blades arcing straight for his neck. Strafing sideways again, he drove the hilt of his saber into her collarbone and sent Aria staggering after her counterpart, giving him enough time to step backwards and recenter himself momentarily before the duo launched another assault, which he barely managed to parry. Yerbol’s blade sliced into his right shoulder while Aria’s clipped his torso as she darted to his left. 
Spinning to face them again, Bracknell’s grin began to fade. His wounded leg couldn’t take his weight as effectively, meaning he had to keep shifting every few seconds. His shoulder smarted painfully. His breath came in short, pained gasps. 
Neither Aria nor Yerbol had broken out in a single sweat, their knuckles white as they clutched their weapons and shifted as if to mount another attack. Slowly, Bracknell began to inch backwards, there was an elevator here...he could escape to the hangar, flee to the planet and meet up with Soto….

“GRRRRRRRRRR!!!!” His attention snapped from the pair he had been fighting with to the two hounds that materialised behind him, blocking his path to the elevator door. Spittle dripped from their maws, ghostly crimson eyes boring into his own.
“Traaaaaaaaiiiitooorrrrrrrrr.” one hissed, their teeth gnashing together as they prowled closer. Bracknell swallowed and strafed back away from the Tuk’ata, another glance thrown over his shoulder towards Aria and Yerbol. He’d take them over the beasts any day. Holy crap, those things gave him the creeps (one of the reasons he hadn’t managed to kill Roan previously)!
A pained yelp would leave Bracknell’s mouth as the larger of the hounds lunged forward suddenly, barrelling into him with her full weight and knocking him right off his feet. He swore as his lightsaber clattered from his grasp, rolling right towards Aria, whose extended hand beckoned it there.

The crystal buried within the hilt crunched loudly beneath the sole of Aria’s foot as Bracknell staggered to his feet once more. 
Unarmed. He was unarmed. The beast’s breath hot against the back of his neck, Aria and Yerbol’s sabers humming in front of him. Nowhere left to run as they all inched closer….
Slowly, he raised his hands and choked out, voice going up an octave.
“Let’s...let’s talk about this...okay? We don’t have to be unreasona-”

_____________
		
“Washing your hands in blood won’t take away the stains.” Aria hissed, Bracknell flinching as she raised a hand, though he would open one eye quizically as nothing happened. No lightning. No gusts of wind...no other energy manipulation. Her hand hovered, palm turned inwards, in front of Yerbol’s chest as the other gripped her remaining weapon. Wait. She wanted him to wait. 

Bracknell was going to SUFFER for the things he had done. The command spoken was barely a whisper from her lips:
“Bleed him.” but the Sith hounds heard it. And obeyed.
Bracknell seemed skeptical. “You think they’ll listen to you? They only followed Roan out of fe-ARGH!” a pained cry escaped him involuntarily at the sharp cutting pain that gripped his already injured leg. Blood oozed from the two neat rows of fang marks the Tuk’ata’s teeth had left. The beasts let out chilling howls, striking again each time Bracknell tried to stand up, every impact rending another chunk from his flesh. Shoulder. Forearm. The other leg. Eyes. Throat. 

Still, Aria waited, counting each bite, speaking with an eerie calmness to her tone as she paced closer still, Yerbol close beside her. 
One.
“That’s for my mother.”
Two. 
“And Merak.”
Three. 
“Takree and Qanarr.”
Four. 
“For Korriban.”
Five.
 “For Tython.”
Six.
“For Lysa.” 
Seven. 
“For the other Masters.” 
Eight. 
“And for my father.” 

“It’s still a quicker death than you deserve!”
Finally, the Tuk’ata paced backwards to leave the final blows to the duo, their tails lashing in excitement as they looked on and licked Bracknell’s blood from their muzzles. Aria looked to Yerbol again after her vehement final proclamation, a silent confirmation. Their sabers raised in unison, Bracknell now too weak from blood loss to do anything but brace himself for the inevitable impact as they swung downwards….
______________

Vano and her squad broke the treeline in time to witness the end of Voldon and Soto’s duel, the forces that had been riveted there to attention suddenly fumbling to re-engage in their battle. Vano’s squad hurried to raise their weapons once more as the Alliance troops crept forward, only to halt as Voldon bellowed out for their surrender. No more troops broke cover to advance.
Her sides heaving from exertion, Vano spun to face the Battlemaster, blinking away the blood that dripped into her remaining eye from a freshly opened gash (whether the culprit had been an Alliance vibroblade or a stray branch during the retreat, she could not remember). 
“You’re not going to kill her…?” the Mirialan gasped out, disbelief edging her tone.