FORTRESS OF DAWN
MIDVINTER
In the wake of their grandmaster's disappearance, along with their most experienced Jedi, the Fortress of Dawn was maintained by a skeleton crew of the few remaining members of their order, dutifully awaiting the return of those lost to the stars. Parts of the fortress was closed off for lack of need, such as the entire uppermost floor where the grandmaster's quarters and office could be found. This closed-off section was only breached by the unexpected arrival of the Lion King himself, having braved the storm on the back of his mighty gryphon. He lamented the sorry state of the once splendid halls and corridors, constructed by order of the last king at the dawn of his reign. How his brother would have scolded him, were he here to witness.
If only he would.
Thurion floated through the vast, empty halls as if just another ghost, the cloak about his shoulders dragging up years-old layers of dust in his wake. Not a sound but the echo of footsteps and the howling wind could be heard, as the High King moved across the large room towards the door to his wife's old office. He stopped to dust off the plaque that read her name and title, tracing the letters of her first name before entering. The door creaked open, for it had not been in use for many years, and a veritable tidal wave of familiar scents nearly put him on his knees. As he looked around, everything was as he remembered them. Her shelves with the same old books, a used drinking glass with faint traces of her lip prints, and a neatly-made bed with a (then) fresh set of folded robes sitting on top ot it.
In the middle of the office stood a small couch and two armchairs huddled around a coffee table, all of which faced the fireplace still sooty from its last time being used. Thurion sunk down into one of the armchairs, sending clouds of dust into the air. For a moment he just sat there, blankly staring at the table. He then took off his glove and gently held out his hand to the side, towards the other armchair. His lips began to tremble when no one would take his hand, and he glanced over to find the armchair as empty as he'd found it. What's worse, he could scarcely remember what her hand looked like, or how it felt in his.
In a sudden rise in emotions, he kicked the coffee table away from him that the empty vase fell over. Its fall fortunately broken by the thick fur rug, it rolled over towards him and touched the tip of his boot. He looked down at it, vaguely familiar with its color and shape, and leaned down to pick it up. As his naked hand touched the glass vase, a memory came to him not as a faint image in the back of his head but as clear as a holo-recording being played out before his very eyes.
"They are beautiful," he heard a voice exclaim, and his eyes widened in disbelief, recognising said voice. "I'll go find a vase for these!"
"Coci," he called out, leaping out of the armchair and knocking it over. He threw off the other glove and held the vase in both hands, a mix of excitement and desperation as he attempted to further submerge himself into the memory. Psychometry was not a Force power he was all too familiar with.
"It's cosy. Quite unlike my old office back on Voss, you remember? I never know what to do with all that... space." His brows furrowed at the sound of his own voice from decades past. If he only knew the sorrow that was to come. "Ylva is with child," his younger self continued, prompting an audible gasp from his wife. "What? Oh, that is wonderful news!"
"Thyri," he smiled to himself. His first grandson, now a grown man. But the smile vanished in an instant at what emerged next.
"You're all I've got left, Coci. My father, my brother, my mentor... Yours is the only piece of my heart still beating. Those other pieces are irreparably broken," he heard himself say, and began to weep. "You really think I am all you have left? What about your children, and their children? Seems to me you have more to live for than you once did. Can you not mend the broken pieces of your heart with them?"
Thurion shook his head softly. "I tried, Coci. How I've tried..."
The memory continued. "Then, let's both make a solemn vow to each other, here and now: In the case one of us falls and the other does not, then we will not seek death but live on for the sake of our children. Until fate deems it so that we may see each other again. No matter how much it hurts."
His hands squeezed the vase so hard it was on the verge of shattering. "If a new threat comes for us on Midvinter, you will not be alone in facing it. We never have been, and we will face it when it comes like we always do." The hope and determination in their voices was heartbreaking to overhear, still living in the belief they would be together forever.
"I love you," Thurion said to an empty room.
"I love you, too," he heard her say just as he thought to set aside the vase. He caught himself, and looked up as if to find her standing in front of him. "I love you," he repeated.
"I love you, too," the memory replayed her reply.
"I love you, Coci," Thurion said once more, and again did the voice respond. "I love you, too."
Hearing her speak those words to him again after so long spent in silence seemed to mend something in the old king. A hole — no, a vast chasm hollowed out by grief over many years, had been filled back in ever so slightly by the sound of her voice. Even as more and more tears fell, he found himself smiling.
"Let's both make a solemn vow to each other, here and now: In the case one of us falls and the other does not, then we will not seek death but live on for the sake of our children. Until fate deems it so that we may see each other again. No matter how much it hurts," the words of his younger self replayed.
"No matter how much it hurts," he reaffirmed his vow. "I will try, for you. Anything for you, my love."
He breathed deeply, stemming the flow of tears, and was about to leave with the vase. He stopped at the door, looked at the vase, then back at the office. Before he left, Thurion put the coffee table back where it had stood and raised the knocked-over armchair to its upright position, then returned the vase to its proper resting place. "I love you, Coci," he said as he closed the door behind him. The sound of her voice, he took with him.
"I love you, too."
In tribute to their last roleplay together: https://www.starwarsrp.net/threads/long-overdue.139383/
