Three Sentence Ficathon

"I don't think you and your pitiful little rebellion know what you're dealing with," the Empress drawled, the yellow irises of her eyes catching the bright red beam of her lightsaber as she stared at Leia; with her free hand she twisted a strand of her familiar dark hair out of the way of her horribly familiar face, in a gesture Leia had seen thousands of times in her own mirror.

Looking at the Empress was about as disorienting as falling into this universe in the first place had been...but Leia had her own advantages, from her weapons to her friends to her strange recognition of the storm of rage and passion and determination she sensed from her enemy's all-too-familiar heart.

"I think I know exactly who I'm dealing with," Leia snarled, igniting her own saber's blade, "the question is, do you?"