A Court of Onyx and Crimson

[Ara Zambrano]

​

Panatha
Castle of Ara Zambrano
Present day


The clamour and bustle from earlier in the day had mostly died down as the evening approached, the dying sunlight reflecting off the exposed metallic beams that formed the skeleton of newly built home of Ara Zambrano. The Great Hall was currently undergoing the final touches of transformation, the long tables running through the center of the palatial columns now draped in silky fabrics and ladened with place settings and centerpieces, onyx and crimson mixing with the brass, granite, and metal surrounding. With one last piercing gaze, the Master nodded in satisfaction, her serious countenance broken only by the slight upturn of lips as she retreated into a small parlor off the main hall, the hiss of the door sliding shut instantly cutting off the noise echoing around the cavernous space.

The shadows cast by the floor to ceiling windows danced across the interior of the room, the molten ambers and coppers of the dying day adding a glow to the small chamber, clashing with the glowsticks and candelabras tastefully placed around the small seating area and dining table. Pinpricks of power washed over her skin as she stepped further into the room, her crimson gaze locked on the shadow of a figure seated on one of the couches tucked against the picturesque windows, goosebumps breaking out across her arms and neck as cool darkness clashed with her own.

”That should be the last they have need of me.”

A soft chuckle rolled over her lips as she moved to the small platter of drinks and snacks set off to the side, provided for the Master of Ren’s comfort while she awaited Ara’s return. Pouring herself a small glass of the finest Brandy available in the Reach, Ara gestured to her guest with a raised eyebrow, a silent offer for a refreshment should her friend wish to indulge.

Pouring a second cup, The Arch-queen set the glass down upon a small table near the couch upon with her companion longued, moving past to stand between the metal beams, framed in dying sunrays. The train of the gown she wore shifted around her, spreading out across the smooth flooring in a waterfall of gold and silver fabric, complementing the colors of the parlor and her own complexion perfectly. Shifting her shoulders slightly, she adjusted, used to a heavier fabric draped across her torso instead of the light, nearly sheer cloak that flowed from the silk choker around her neck. Nails tapped lightly against the crystal of her glass as she waited, skin crawling with the clash of cold and heat, their Force Signatures mixing in the intimate space.

As her eyes cast out across the sprawling landscape of the immense capital of Canthar. Her new home, her castle, far enough removed of the city proper to afford her expansive views of both the city and the Iron Mountains behind. Despite her once debilitating fear of heights, Ara stood, toeing the edge of the glass wall until her stomach cramped and a chill ran down her spine, the fear never quite gone, but now a shadowy echo of emotion that merely strengthened her. The master often found herself settled in such spaces, the view a testament to how far she'd come in such a short amount of time.

How far the First Order had allowed her to come.

A bitter smile crept in, her gaze never leaving the Panathan cityscape as she considered the other Master settled in her parlor. She wouldn't forget that all they had given her could be taken away in an instant, should she prove a liability to their cause and their machinations, her blood the sole reason she held a title of prestige among the holdings of the Order.

They may try.

It was a thought that had skirted across her mind in the months since she had shed the mantle of a Knight of Ren, turning her attentions away from battle and the ways of the Force to those of Etiquette, Politics, and Diplomacy, at least to the public eye. The woman seated on the leather of the couch, one of the few who knew better. One of very few. Turning away from the captivating landscape, her attention shifted to the violet haired teen with a warm and welcoming smile, a true warmth and appreciation for the Ren shining through the social mask that was always present.

”I would complain about the arrangement of such an affair if not for the pleasure of seeing you in such beautiful attire.”

A playful flirting tone floated under her words, a mischievous sparkle in Ara's eyes as she took another sip of fiery liquid.

[member="Samka Derith"]

 

[Samka Derith]

Modesty was something clearly lacked by all the monarchs of Panatha.

But who was she to judge? Her room had a throne.

The expansive halls, vast ceilings and elaborate furniture pushed even Samka's tastes as an abode but as a venue, she could think of nowhere better. Its design was there to overwhelm with majesty and riches. In that respect, it was easy to see [member="Darth Carnifex"] and his predecessors fitting right in. It was all part of the game to win followers. Intimidate them with your power, entice them with your riches, either one. The fact that [member="Ara Zambrano"] had taken it upon herself to create an entirely new castle to her liking while still maintaining that awe was impressive, she immediately knew what she must do to solidify her power. It was to establish herself as her own powerful figure and not just rely on the blood in her veins for legitimacy.

It was also ever so slightly worrying.

Samka had reclined on a soft couch beside a large window, legs tucked in beneath her. She sipped juice from her glass, freshly squeezed and delicious, as she gazed out at the capital below, wondering how many people living in city squalor below were looking back in her direction in envy.

Hopefully, they were too fearful and too brainwashed to do anything.

Another presence approached, a familiar dark signature which grew stronger by the day. She didn't look up as the woman drew closer. Ara Ren, now known as Ara Zambrano to add legitimacy to her reign, was an increasingly close associate of hers. Now she was Arch-Queen of the Reach.

"The Queen graces me with her presence," Samka said drily before taking another sip of juice. She declined the alcohol, it was never her thing, but sat upright to demonstrate her full attention was on Ara.

Apparently not a sentiment which was returned as the monarch began taking in the view from the window. This was why she was here. Manners. It was impolite to walk past your guests in favour of your daily scenery. It didn't charm them, it gave an impression of disinterest even if Samka knew the reality was different, that Ara would never deliberately be rude to her, the Baron of Isle Yultza or whatever other primitive feudal titles people used on this world could think different.

"Ahem," Samka cleared her throat to recapture Ara's attention.

That sort of worked. She turned around and smiled in an oddly warm fashion. As Samka was unfamiliar with the expression, she elected to ignore it for now. She was, however, familiar with the flirtation which followed.

The Ren frowned, letting her gaze drift down for a moment to the cream dress she wore. Something nice but relatively simple to not upstage anyone of public significance. Certainly a contrast to the Queen's elaborate gown.

"If you flirt with your guests, they may see you as something to posses. You could use it to control them but it can spread the belief that you are something they can control and plot accordingly," Samka stated factually before taking another sip of juice. "The choice is yours, I suppose."

"But yes," a thin smile on her lips as the girl continued, recognising this as a friendly greeting. "It's good to see you too. You seem to be settling in well. How goes the night's preparations?"

 

[Ara Zambrano]

A soft, slightly disappointed sigh escaped as she listened to the Master of Ren, reaching up to deftly unclasp the choker from around her neck, the sheer fabric of her cape following. Draping the garment over the back of one of the simple chairs gathered around the small seating area, Ara fixed her companion with a soft smile and hard eyes, hands resting on either side of the waterfall of fabric.

”That is part of the game is it not? Let these men, and even the women, think I am interested in wealth and jewels, games, dancing, parties…”

Fingers curling into the fabric of the chair back in an outward side of anticipation or exhiaration, her lips turnedd up in a predatory smile, dark curls cascading down her side as she canted her head, the socialite rising to the surface to give [member="Samka Derith"] a glimpse of the personna she had spent years cultivating and perfecting before she had fallen in with the First Order.

”Let them think they have my interest, my affection, and they will slip up. Rarely do they look past a pretty smile, soft laugh, and gentle touch to see intellegence and power within.”

A flash of teeth preceeded the Arch-Queen moving to settle onto the chair easily, the socialite once again fading away, the warrior within replacing the easy smiles. A sip from the glass of brandy burned through her core as she relaxed into the chair, returning her gaze to one of the only people she allowed to see through her outward mask, if not into her core self, enough to skirt the darkness within. Of anyone, the young Ren seated across from her understood how playing to perceptions could be a strength.

Although she had to conceede a point to Samka, this was not Coruscant and the stakes here were far greater. Playing the flirt might win her information, but it could cost her allies or risk wars on political fronts she hardly had the time, nor inclination, to fight. It was a precarious balance, her family legacy and the backing of the First Order only taking her so far and ensuring a finite amount of support from the denizens of the Reach. Which is why the pair were here this evening.

”It goes as well as can be expected.”

Crimson eyes flashed to the carved doors that led into the Great Hall beyond, sensing the flurry of activity as auras moved beyond her vision, the grandiose task of preparations finally left to those in her staff.

”Although, by your request that we meet before the dignataries arrive,I assume you wish you see for yourself.”

Raising her eyebrow with an amused grin as she turned her attention back to her companion, Ara took another sip from her tumber while deciding on whether to be insulted that her tutor in all manner of decorm felt the need to inspect the preparations for tonight’s event or relieved that she woul share this burden. For all the dinners and parties she had attended, invited or not, this would be her first attempt to host her own. A daunting task that rather left her wishing to be out sowing bloodshed on the battlefield rather than in the finery surrounding. A vast change from the woman the Master had met barely a year before.

 

[Samka Derith]

"Mm," a soft noise of acknowledgement as the Ren took another sip of drink while [member="Ara Zambrano"] spoke of her reasoning. She wouldn't press the point much further, she had already expressed her view of flirtation as a double edged sword. "Play to what you know but don't always rely on the same box of tricks. When you're around the same crowd as you shall be, they catch wise after your initial victories."

"It would be nice but I am here to see you, not your decor. Your success or failure is, ultimately, my responsibility," the Ren explained. "I brought you into our Empire and then I gave you this world all because I think you can perform your duties righteously."

Samka smirked for a moment, reclining backwards into the luxurious sofa, a single fingernail tracing the edges of the glass held in her hand. She looked up upon the freshly crowned monarch with a sparkle of mischief in her crimson eyes. "Yes," she confirmed to the elder woman, "I instigated this. The First Order was content to delegate this world to a Moff or a regional Governor, believing that some bureaucrat could run this world adequately. Perhaps they could." The smirk on the girl's features grew larger. "But I had a better idea."

"Most of the First Order shall deny it, of course," Samka adopted a breezy tone as she continued talking. "They prefer to imagine they made their own schemes, many of them fear that a power they do not understand exerts such control over their policy so they tell themselves it happened another way. Eventually, they believe it. But it doesn't change the reality and the reality is that I'm staking a lot on you, your Majesty." her final words emphasised in a slower tone as Samka slowly rose to her feet, placing the now empty glass at a small table beside her.

In a moment her demeanour changed, Samka smiled pleasantly and closed the gap between the two women. "Which means every success of yours is a success of mine," she explained, reaching out with delicate fingers as she spoke to gussy up Ara's elaborate gown.

"Every person you step on,"

She pulled out some of the gown's trailing ends on the floor that had been tucked beneath one another, bending down slightly to do so.

"Every subject who bows,"

She pulled the knot around Ara's stomach so the gown would fit tighter.

"Every warrior who pledges you their blade,"

She pushed a sleeve which had slipped ever so slightly down Ara's arm back up to its original position.

"Every speech you charm with,"

She picked up the clothing the monarch had shed and carefully readjusted the choker around the Queen's neck once more.

"And every scheme you devise,"

Finally, she re-positioned the tiara to balance on Ara's head.

Samka looked up at the taller woman, taking a step back to appreciate her work, she locked her eyes with Ara. "These are my victories as much as yours. You understand this?"