Private A Crown Between Chambers

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Location: Theed Palace
Aurelian Veruna

Hours later, the light in Sibylla's office had softened from sharp morning golds to the muted glow of late afternoon light. Holo-displays hovered in quiet constellation around her desk, correspondence scrolling past her fingertips as she weighed alliances, reassurances, and contingencies in equal measure.

"Your Majesty." Corde's husky voice cut gently through the hum.

Sibylla looked up from her holo-pad. There was a faint pause and an inquisitive but weary, slow blink. The only tell beneath her composed features, framed by kohl-lined eyes and the maroon-tinted Scar of Remembrance marking the fullness of her lower lip.

"King Veruna's diplomatic yacht has landed at the spaceport," Corde said. "Just now."

For a heartbeat, Sibylla did not move.

Still clad in full regalia, the Interim Queen had spent the intervening hours reaching out to trusted allies -- Dominique among them -- gathering impressions, confirmations, and quiet warnings in the wake of Ravion's maneuver. All while preparing for the inevitable transition, the careful unwinding that would place Naboo's rightful crown back where it belonged.

He should have been en route to Abenedo.

That he was here meant only one thing, Sibyla mused, her lips pressing just slightly together in a subtle thin line.

He must have heard. Of course he had. Ravion's proposal, the old statutes dusted off for use, Sibylla had shown him all of it. By and large, she was intimately aware that Aurelian had never wanted to remain Interim Chancellor. The role exhausted him, hollowed out his days, stole time from the work he truly wanted to focus on Naboo. The Republic emergency mantle as High Chancellor was merely his burden.

She had watched the strain take shape in small, telling ways, in the darker shadows beneath his eyes, how his curls were continuously tugged loose with restless fingers, and their meetings both in and out of the palace were littered with half-joking remarks about being one crisis away from quitting entirely. He never would. Pride and duty would see to that...but if he had turned back from Abenedo to come home…

It meant only one thing -- he was furious.

"See to matters here," Sibylla said quietly, gesturing toward the orderly stacks of datapads and the open threads discussing the accelerated ceremony. "Proceed as planned as swiftly as possible."

Corde inclined her head.

Moments later, still in regalia, the delicate seed pearls brushing lightly against her cheeks and the jeweled collar at her shoulders catching the light, Sibylla followed the path relayed by Tona. The corridors seemed to hush around her, as though Naboo itself were holding its breath.

Tona met her at the door, murmuring a greeting as she let her in. Sibylla returned it softly and stepped inside, the door closing behind her.

She found him standing alone, staring out as if the view of the waterfalls off Veruna tower balcony as if the sight itself had offended him. His expression was all sharp angles and clenched resolve, jaw locked tight, shoulders drawn so taut they looked carved from tension rather than muscle. A nearly empty glass hung in his hand, forgotten, like he'd poured it out of habit and never bothered to refill it.

His shirt was already loosened as if haphazardly tugged in his infuriated state, the asymmetrical collar gaped open, exposing a vee of smooth, dark, tanned skin. Really, the man radiated simmering, infuriated nobility as much as stark allure and charm that was a maddening combination.

It was a dangerous sight. And beneath it all, an undeniable pull that made her chest tighten despite herself. He looked every inch a ruler pushed too far -- and far too tempting for someone standing on the edge of her own resolve.

With a deep breath, Sibylla slowly moved her way forward to him. She wasn't sure what he needed, be it merely her presence, support, or someone to vent. For now, as she noticed that his glass was nearly empty, she chose to go for the one act that might be appreciated, refilling his drink and getting one for herself.

And if he wanted to talk, to lay out what he had in mind, her quiet acceptance of him only encouraged him to do so free of judgment.

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: Crashout time
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes

Aurelian tore the transport apart before its landing struts even cooled.

The narrow cabin rang with the crack of plastoid and durasteel as he drove his fist into a bulkhead, then another. A chair went first, ripped from its mount and hurled hard enough to dent the wall. A console followed, sparks snapping as it died. He paced, breathing sharp through his teeth, shoulder brushing the viewport as Naboo's greens and blues swelled beneath them. Relief of duty. Procedural activation. As if he were a faulty part to be swapped out.

He had held the line. He had done the work. And they had smiled while they took it from him.

By the time the ramp lowered, his knuckles were split and his jaw ached from how hard he had clenched it. He moved fast through the spaceport, head down, cloak pulled close. Shouts rose anyway. Holo-cams flared. Questions piled over each other, loud and hungry. He did not slow.

"No comment," he snapped, again and again, the words sharp enough to cut. Security tried to flank him. He shrugged them off and kept moving. Delegations reached out, hands and pleas tangling in the air. He slipped past them like water, anger carrying him forward.

The Palace and Veruna Tower rose ahead, familiar and infuriating all at once. Inside, the doors sealed behind him with a soft final sound. Tona appeared at his side, composed as ever.

"No one," Aurelian said, voice low and tight. "No one gets in. I don't care who they are."

Tona nodded and turned to see it done.

He poured a drink without tasting it and pushed through to the balcony. The waterfalls thundered below, endless and indifferent. Mist cooled his face. He leaned on the rail, staring down, the thought slipping in uninvited and dangerous. How easy it would be to let go. To hurl himself into the white roar and leave them with their statutes and smiles. Coward, a part of him whispered. Or free.

He closed his eyes, breath hitching, anger folding inward until it felt like shame. He had not wanted the office. He had taken it because it needed taking. Letting them pull it from under him felt like failure anyway. What kind of man let that happen.

A shuffle sounded behind him. He spun, fury flaring. "I said no one," he barked, already drawing breath to tear into Tona. Then he saw her.

Sibylla stood just inside the threshold, regalia catching the light, expression careful and steady. The sight of her hit harder than any blow. Relief and embarrassment tangled tight in his chest. She had come to check on him. Of course she had. The knowledge softened something and made the rest hurt worse. He looked away, jaw working.

She moved closer without a word, refilled his glass, pressed it into his hand. He took it automatically, fingers brushing hers, then turned back to the view. The waterfalls filled his vision again. Safer than her eyes. He tried to speak. The words stuck. Pride fought with the weight sitting heavy behind his ribs. He swallowed, the burn of the drink grounding him.

"I'm sorry your reign was so short." he said finally, voice rough, barely above the water's roar. He stared out, shoulders tight, unable to look at her.

​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Location: My reign as Queen could last at least another five years!
Aurelian Veruna

"I said no one!"

It was the years of perfecting her composure that allowed SIbylla to keep her calm, composed expression, but it didn't quell the way her heart rate spiked or the subtle start before she mastered it. But just as quickly, she saw the shift in him. Embarrassment. Relief. A flicker of wounded pride, all tangled with aggravation at himself and the rest of the galaxy.

Sibylla knew Aurelian's anger was not for her. She knew that. He was just working through everything he felt, the way he always had, alone -- the way he had long been used to bearing these moments by himself as he survived day in and day out the battlefield of nobility and politics that only served to be ready to strike their blades at his back at every turn, working through fury and frustration without witness.

But there was a difference now.

He did not need to do so any longer -- not while she was here.

Still, she would move at his pace. This was new ground for them both, the first time they were navigating something like this together. Learning, carefully, how to stand beside one another without overreaching.

And that was why her hazel gaze traced Aurelian with the quiet attentiveness drilled into her by years of training, but also that of one who saw through more of him than before. She took in the rigid set of his stance. The way he avoided looking at her. The conflict between immense pride and the sting of feeling discarded after holding the Republic together when no one else stepped forward.

From the unruly curl of his hair to the tense, broad line of his shoulders, she took him in.... and then her eyes dropped to his hands.

Bruised knuckles. Split skin. Angry scrapes.

Sibylla felt her breath catch, and then she took a slow breath. Had he fought someone? Or something less forgiving than flesh and bone?

Aurelian had a temper. A fierce one. Not like Remus', but dangerous all the same. He had spoken before of fearing it, of fearing the ways it echoed his sire. It was a part of himself he worked constantly to restrain, to balance, to keep it from ruling him instead of the other way around. Even so, the smallest trigger could snap it loose, though she never feared it would be turned on her.

She feared only that he would turn it on himself.

Sibylla lifted her glass and took a measured sip of whiskey, letting the warmth of the liquor flow down her throat with its steadying bite. When her hazel eyes rose to meet him again, there was a faint curve at the corner of her mouth -- not humor, exactly, but a soft, empathetic affection.

"Well..." she began gently, setting her glass on the balcony rail. The kilari silk whispered as she stepped closer, the seed pearls of her headdress brushing her cheek. She reached for the hand not holding the tumbler with a slow and easy motion, giving him every chance to pull away.

He did not.

She cradled his hand, turning it palm down, her heart tightening as she examined the damage. Bruises were already blooming, and the skin broken and raw.

"You could always offer a mercy marriage pact," she added dryly, the joke delivered in husky, deadpan fashion. She lifted his injured knuckles and pressed a light kiss there, reverent despite the tease, before looking up at him with tawny eyes the same rich hue as the finest Corellian whiskey.

"Then my reign as Queen could last at least another five years."

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: I would be blessed
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes

Aurelian watched her hands as she took his, the way she did it without urgency, without flinching. He let her. The contact cut through the noise in his head more cleanly than the drink ever could. Her fingers were warm. Steady. When she turned his hand palm down, pain bloomed sharp and undeniable, and he hissed a breath through his teeth before he could stop himself. So it hurt after all.

He had not noticed until now. Anger had carried him this far, had kept him upright and moving, but standing here with her, the damage came into focus. Split skin. Swelling already setting in. He felt foolish for it, for the violence of it, for how easily he had lost himself again. He had sworn he would not. He had promised himself he was better than this.

The shame settled heavy in his chest.

Her eyes lifted to his, soft and knowing, and he looked away first. He hated that. Hated that she could see him so clearly when he felt this undone. A former Chancellor cast aside. A king who could not keep his temper leashed. What kind of legacy did that leave.

Her joke landed anyway.

It loosened something tight and brittle inside him, a quiet crack he could not quite hide. The corner of his mouth twitched despite himself. He let out a breath that might have been a laugh on another day.

"That would be charitable of you," he said quietly, voice low and rough. "Marrying a shamed former Chancellor. Hardly a prize."

He drew his hands back before she could answer, reaching for his glass under the pretense of needing it. The crystal felt solid in his grip. Safer. He took a slow drink, buying himself a moment, eyes fixed on the falling water beyond the balcony. He felt smaller than he had in years. Stripped down to the parts he tried not to show anyone. Least of all her.

Still, the thought lingered. The idea she had offered so lightly, wrapped in humor, carried weight he could not ignore. Alliance. Choice. Someone seeing him and staying anyway.

He lowered the glass, his voice dropping to something almost private, meant only for her.

"I would be blessed to receive such an offer," he murmured, not looking at her, afraid that if he did, she would see just how much he meant it.

​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Location: How does one relationship?
Aurelian Veruna

That would be charitable of you...marrying a shamed former Chancellor. Hardly a prize.

Sibylla felt it all the moment Aurelian pulled away.

Not just the loss of his hand in hers, but everything that followed when he turned away. The pain he had only just begun to feel settling into his injured knuckles. The shame folding into his posture, feeding the rigid pride that strained against his sense of failure and his perception of being weak or irrelevant.

Sibylla saw it all. She always did.

It rolled off him in quiet waves, written in the set of his shoulders, in the way he angled his body from her as though distance might spare them both. That he could not look at her, could not linger in her touch, spoke more clearly than any words he might have offered. She curled her fingers inward to keep from reaching for him again, and despite her understanding, a small, unwelcome sting settled in her chest.

The rational part of her understood that he was not the sort to reach for touch when anger and shame still burned this close to the surface. That he had always met pressure by turning inward, by locking himself in and tightening his grip on control until the worst of it passed. That instinct had carried him through far worse than this.

But reason did little to soften what it was like to watch the man she loved injured and refusing her touch. This was new ground and she could not approach him as she would a political crisis, nor as she would a wounded Great House nobleman whose pride could be soothed with careful words and ceremony.

This was Aurelian... and loving him meant learning how to stand in the space between restraint and need.

Yet even then, uncertainty filled her, and Sibylla swallowed hard, fingers curling inwards to rub her thumb along her forefinger to prevent their insistent desire to touch him even as he claimed he was but a shamed former Chancellor, nary a prize for a bride.

Am I doing the right thing? She mused. Had humor been the wrong path? And how could he call himself a shamed former Chancellor when he was anything but, the need to object rising before she held her tongue. More questions and doubts filled Sibylla's head, at least, until she heard his quiet response.

I would be blessed to receive such an offer.

Hearing that made her heartrate spike and her breath hitch. Oh how he made her emotions swing from one extreme to the next. Hazel eyes carefully traced the line of his sharp profile, reading the tension there with the same attentiveness she brought to council chambers and closed-door negotiations, only this time her heart was involved, and that changed everything.

"You are neither shamed nor diminished," she finally replied softly, her melodic voice finally bridging the space between them, "You were used by a system that mistook endurance for expendability. That is not a failing. It is proof that you held longer than anyone else would."

She let the silence stretch, then added more quietly, more honestly than she allowed herself in most things.

"…and any proposal from me would not be an act of charity," she said softly. "It would be a choice. One made because I choose you."

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: Please stay
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes

Aurelian felt the shift in her before she spoke. The hesitation. The careful distance she held even as she stayed. It pressed at him harder than the Senate ever had. He downed the rest of his drink in one swallow, the burn sharp enough to keep his temper leashed. He set the glass aside with more care than he felt. He could feel the anger still coiled in him, hot and restless, but her presence steadied it. He would not let it loose. Not on her. Never on her.

Because I choose you.

The words landed deeper than he expected. They cut through the noise, through the shame, through the old instinct that told him to brace for abandonment. For a moment, he said nothing. He watched the water fall. He breathed.

She stood there choosing him anyway.

"I'm not sure anyone else will," he said at last, voice low, stripped of its edge. He did not look at her yet. "History doesn't remember context. It remembers endings."

He dragged a hand through his hair, fingers catching briefly on a curl before falling away. "They won't remember that I stepped in when no one else would. They won't remember the worlds stabilized, the borders held, the people who slept safely because someone took the burden." His jaw tightened. "They'll remember that I was removed. That I failed."

He turned then, finally facing her. The words came harder now, heavier. "Every negotiation, every council, every glance across a table. They'll see the man who was ousted. Not the one who held the Republic together." His voice dipped. "And that follows you. It stains everything."

He swallowed. The apology rose before he could stop it. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. The old fear stirred. The expectation that she would leave. That everyone did once the shine wore off and the cost became clear. That was why he withdrew. Why he learned to stand alone before the ground gave way beneath him.

He looked at her fully now. The worry in her eyes was plain. So was the resolve. She was painfully beautiful in the late light, and the sight of her made the galaxy feel very far away. He felt foolish for ever thinking he was angry at anything that mattered.

He stood there a moment longer, fighting the instinct to retreat.

Then he reached for her.

His hand closed around hers, gentle despite the bruises, and he pulled her in slowly, giving her time to resist if she wished. When she didn't, he wrapped his arms around her and held on, tight and unguarded, his forehead resting briefly against her temple.

He breathed her in and let himself stay.

​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Location: You stood when no one else would. And that matters.
Aurelian Veruna

The moment Aurelian drew her in, making the choice to reach out to her rather than push for distance, something tightened painfully in Sibylla's throat.

It was not the force of it. It was the care. The way he let his weight settle against her as if trying to convince himself it was okay to lean in and invite her in and trust. She swallowed hard, her heart fluttering high in her chest even as it thundered in her ears. She carefully wrapped her arms around him in return, lightly at first, then tighter, letting her palms slide and pressed flat to his back, anchoring him against her lithe figure, bringing him fully against her until they could both feel the warmth radiating from each other.

Breathe, she told herself. Just breathe.

At any other time she would have had words ready, but this was Aurelian, and this hurt was not something she could negotiate away. So she stayed quiet, letting the seconds pass. Letting the only movement be the soft quiver of the seed pearls brushing her cheek, the rise and fall of their breaths, and the distant roar of the waterfalls outside as Naboo and the galaxy carried on.

She felt everything in him. The pain he had only just allowed himself to feel. The shame folded into his posture. The pride that refused to bend even as it cracked against his sense of failure as she recalled how he spoke of history earlier, of being remembered only for the ending, not that he was the only one who stood to make sure things remained afloat.

Ever so carefully, her thumb caressed an arc at his back, then with a breath, Sibylla carefully breached the silence, deciding to see if emphasizing the knowns might work or if he was too aggravated that their recollection would only infuriate him more.

"We both knew the position was temporary," she said gently. "You never wanted it, and it was never meant to bind you longer than necessary."

She drew a slow breath, watching Aurelian react and how his body responded to her words. Anxiety and uncertainty clashed but she continued regardless, needing him to at least hear this from her instead of what his own worst critic told him in his head.

"We held on because there was hope we would recover Kalantha quickly. Hope the Republic might be spared another fracture. Black Sun made that nearly impossible, and with each passing day…" She let the thought trail where neither of them needed it spoken.

Then, quieter still, "The Republic needed stability. And you gave it that. Laws passed. Defenses raised. Time bought. You are the King of Naboo, but those actions as Interim Chancellor will always carry your name. You stood when no one else would. And that matters.

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: The Republic are on their own now
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes

Aurelian held her tighter when her arms came around him, as if afraid the moment might slip if he loosened his grip. He rested his weight into her without apology. For once, he did not brace for the ground to give way. He simply stood there, breathing her in, letting the quiet do its work. This was unfamiliar. No strategy. No defense. Just presence. It felt strange. It felt right.

He realized, dimly, that this was what he had always lacked. Not counsel. Not reassurance. Someone who did not try to fix him or smooth the edges, but stayed. Someone who understood the silence as well as the words. The thought settled deep and steady, and he closed his eyes for a brief moment, grateful enough that it almost hurt.

He listened as she spoke, her voice calm against the thunder of the falls. He did not interrupt. He did not argue. He let her words pass through him, some of them catching, some of them easing the tightness in his chest. She was right. He had never wanted the position. He had always intended to hand it over the moment it was safe.

What burned was not the loss. It was the way they had taken it. Discarded. Efficient. Clean. Like his father. Like his mother, in some ways. The thought soured his stomach.

He pulled back slowly, just enough to reach for the decanter. He poured himself another drink and swallowed it down in one go, the heat spreading fast and familiar. A dull ache followed, welcome in its way. He exhaled a low groan and stepped back to the rail, looking down at the water far below.

"Let the Republic have what it deserves," he said, voice rough, stripped of ceremony. "Someone like Corvalis. Someone self serving."

He shook his head once, sharp and dismissive, as if casting the whole thing away. The anger was still there, but it was changing shape. Hardening into resolve.

"Naboo is my priority now," he said, quieter. "It always was. I just forgot that for a while."

He turned back toward her, meeting her eyes fully this time. The shame still lingered, but it no longer owned him. He was tired of carrying it alone.

"Our people are what matter," he said. "You matter." His voice softened, honest and unguarded. "That's all I care about now."

​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Location: Does it truly not concern you?
Aurelian Veruna

Sibylla understood what Aurelian meant when he spoke of letting the Republic have what it deserved. She understood the impulse behind it, the wounded pride, the exhaustion that came from being taken for granted and then set aside as if the cost had never mattered.

But she also knew it was not so simple.

Naboo was the Republic's capital, the heart through which policy, power, and consequence flowed outward across the Core and beyond. What rose or fell within the Republic never passed Naboo by. Its successes and failures were braided too tightly with her world and her people to pretend otherwise.

Leaving it all in Corvalis' hands, especially now, was not restraint or something it deserved. It was abdication. And however much she loved Aurelian, pride would not protect Naboo from what followed.

"Yes," Sibylla said quietly, repeating his words as she reached for her own glass from the railing, moving to pace lightly for a few steps, the rustle of her skirts shifting with every step.

"Naboo matters... that has always been our aim from the beginning." Calling back towards Foundation Day, nearly a year ago, where she stood in front of him, offering to support his claim to the throne if Aurelian would have her at his side as his temperance, his Voice.

She came to a pause, the light glinting ogf the soft glimmer of her pearls along her headdress. Her forefinger tapped once against the crystal as she gathered her thoughts, trying to glean how to speak them aloud without it deepening his anger.

"But Naboo and her people are still bound to the Republic," she continued, turning to look at him, her hazel eyes tracing the straight line of his spine and the way he held his chin aloft in prideful defiance.

"What happens there will reach us here. As I said when we spoke with Dominique, we knew this moment was coming. We understood the path he intended to take."

Sibylla's eyes locked upon amber, and her concern regarding the manner expressed itself in the set of her jaw.

"I am not comfortable with how swiftly he moved nor with what that speed now grants him."

A flicker of agitation cut through her composure then, and she turned more fully toward Aurelian, moving a few steps toward him, her free hand making a soft gesture of emphasis.

"Look at what he has done," she said softly but firmly. "He has positioned himself as the sole arbiter of Chancellor candidates. For the next ten days, the Senate answers to him alone in this matter....for Shiraya's sake, Aurelian, does that truly not concern you?"

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: Aurelians hate list: #1 Cassian Abrantes, #2 Ravion Corvalis, #3 Thessally
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes

Aurelian listened, jaw tight, eyes fixed on the falls as Sibylla spoke. He did not interrupt her, but his shoulders stiffened with every careful truth she laid out. She was right. He knew she was. That almost made it worse. Logic slid off him tonight. It had no place to land.

"I could separate Naboo from the Republic," he muttered, more to himself than to her. The words tasted hollow the moment they left his mouth. He knew it. She would too. Naboo was too entangled, too central, too watched. Independence was a fantasy people indulged when they were wounded.

Still, the thought lingered. If not separation, then disruption.

He turned at last, a sharp, dangerous glint flashing through his eyes. "Or Corvalis could find himself in an unfortunate Ukatis situation," he said lightly, lifting his glass in a mock toast. "Near a window. Accidents happen."

The corner of his mouth twitched. A joke. Mostly.

The silence after told him she heard the part he had not said aloud. He exhaled through his nose and shook his head, the humor draining away as quickly as it had come.

He turned back to the balcony rail, gripping it hard enough that his knuckles ached again. Naboo's lights glimmered below, serene and unaware. That was the problem. It was hard to care about anything else when this was what mattered. When this was what he could still protect.

"They didn't fight this," he said. "Any of them. They let Ravion crawl through the shadows and call it order. They let him decide who gets to matter." His voice roughened. "And now I'm supposed to smile and trust the process."

He laughed once, bitter and short.

"I don't know how to move forward without anger," he admitted. The words surprised him with how honest they were. "I don't know how to do this without wanting someone to pay for it."

He looked at her then, really looked. The concern in her eyes cut deeper than any accusation. "Will they even respect me now?" he asked. "As King. Or am I just the man who failed upward and then fell."

The thought gnawed at him. Legacy. Always legacy. He had wanted to build something that lasted. Instead, he felt like a cautionary tale.

"This is a mess," he said quietly. "I'm standing in the middle of it and I can't see a clean path out." His voice dropped, raw and unguarded. "Make it make sense, Sibylla. Because right now all I can feel is the urge to burn something down just to prove I still can."

He fell silent, anger and doubt twisting tight in his chest, waiting to see if she could anchor him again before he slipped too far.

​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Location: You wish to burn something down…
Aurelian Veruna

The look Sibylla leveled at Aurelian, paired with the silence that followed, made it clear she had heard him. Her brows drew together, hazel eyes sharpening with a faint, incredulous disbelief that suggested he knew perfectly well how ridiculous and senseless that notion was. Granted, the joke itself was not lost on her.

"Nothing so drastic," she replied, taking a few sips of her whiskey as she released a quiet breath, her shoulders settling.

Aurelian pressed on regardless, pacing, gesturing, his voice rising and falling with the storm still working its way through him. Sibylla did not interrupt. She waited. She listened. She observed. Her gaze never left him, tracing every restless step, every tense movement, every shift in tone. She was every part Sibylla, Interim Queen, and Voice and which one to be was still a struggle, but at her core, she knew she could give him the space to spend himself out.

Her finger tapped once against the rim of her glass. The longer he spoke, the more a familiar urge surfaced -- the desire to shake sense into a man brilliant enough to know better.

As gifted as Aurelian was, he had always been prone to fixating on the things he could not control, especially when his image, reputation, or the hard-earned respect or legacy he valued felt threatened.

"Aurelian," Sibylla said softly a few heartbeats after he went still. She studied the tension etched into his tanned, sculpted features, the anger and doubt coiled just beneath the surface, waiting for the smallest spark to break free.

"You know perfectly well this is the winter session," she continued, trying to bring reason back into him that she knew he had. "Half the Senate is in recess on their homeworlds, the other half absorbed by Outbound Flight. This was never about a lack of courage or will. Corvalis chose his moment precisely because there would be so few voices left to object. We anticipated as much." A pause, faintly pointed. "We simply could not predict his timing."

She drew a breath, shaking her head slightly as she continued.

"I have reviewed the recordings. The moment a senator attempted to object, Ravion redirected him to procedural filing with the Clerk of the Court. And as you and I are both aware, the Court is woefully understaffed during recess. Nothing could possibly have been expedited within that ten-day window."

Sibylla stepped closer then, the soft whisper of her skirts and the gentle chime of seed pearls drawing his attention as she came to stand beside him. This time, she allowed herself the risk of touch, her hand settling against his forearm with deliberate care.

"You are respected," she explained firmly. "You are the elected King of Naboo. I am well aware your thoughts are telling you this appears a loss of standing. It is not. Corvalis acted this way because any other course would have required you to initiate the election yourself and abdicate formally."

Her grip remained steady.

"And despite your profound distaste for the responsibility of the Chancellorship, you would never have left that office without absolute certainty that the Republic -- and Naboo along with it -- would be guarded by someone capable of facing the wolves at the gate."

Her expression softened then, and she lifted her hand to his face, encouraging him to meet her gaze.

"Shiraya knows how far you have come," Sibylla said quietly, her thumb brushing the shadow at his jaw. "And so do I. You are still becoming the leader you are meant to be. Yes, this is a mess. But how we proceed will determine what it means for the Republic, for Naboo… and for us."

Firelight caught the gold flecks in her eyes as she held his gaze, resolve settling there with unmistakable clarity.

"You wish to burn something down?" she asked, voice level.

"Then burn Ravion Corvalis.”

She didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t need to.

“Not with anger, but with intent. Turn that formidable mind of yours toward mine, toward Dominique's, toward those allies who sense the same rot we do."

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: Time to act
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes

Aurelian poured another drink and downed it without ceremony. The burn helped. So did she. He set the glass aside and finally turned to her fully, really looked at her, and felt the edge of his anger dull.

Shiraya, she was beautiful. Even now. Especially now. It was infuriating how easily she could disarm him just by standing there, steady and unflinching, offering him a direction instead of a wall. The alcohol softened his thoughts, slowed the spiral. Her words gave them somewhere to go.

Burn Ravion Corvalis. Not with rage. With intent.

He breathed out slowly through his nose. The idea settled. Took shape. He could feel his mind shifting gears, the familiar click as fury turned into focus. This was what he knew how to do. This was where he was dangerous. He shook his head once, sharp, as if clearing it. "That's probably enough sulking," he said, quieter than before. The admission surprised him, but it felt right. "I can't sit here stewing while he consolidates power."

He paced once, then stopped, facing her again. "So I act," he said. The words steadied him. "I have to."

His thoughts raced now, not scattered but fast and precise. He needed to be more than wounded pride and broken glass. He needed to be the man Naboo expected. The man she believed in. For her. For Naboo. For the Republic, whether it deserved him or not.

"First, the Chancellorship," he said. "We make sure the next one isn't Corvalis' creature. Someone competent. Someone who understands that stability matters more than ego."

He grimaced. "Anyone tied to the Trade Federation or the Banking Clan is out. They only ever serve themselves. I won't have Naboo collateralized by corporate interests."

He stopped by the rail, staring out at the lights as another thought surfaced. "Praxon leaving leaves us thin. Naboo doesn't have the sway it used to, not alone."

His gaze sharpened as his mind leapt ahead. "Denon," he said slowly. "Director Vexx is self-serving, but she's not stupid. She understands that if the Republic thrives, Denon thrives. She could be persuaded."

He turned back to Sibylla, the last of the fog lifting. The anger was still there, but now it had purpose. "And then," he said, voice lower, more deliberate, "we undermine Ravion. Expose the timing. The maneuvering. Strip him of the narrative he's building."

He paused, studying her, then asked the question that had been circling his thoughts since she spoke his name earlier. "So Dominique?"

The name hung between them, heavy with possibility. Aurelian straightened, resolve settling into his posture.

"I won't burn the Republic down," he said. "I'll outthink him. With you."

​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Location: That's hot
Aurelian Veruna

Sibylla watched the change happen.

The change in him was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it landed with the force of gravity. Rage did not vanish so much as it transformed, honed into something lethal and controlled. Purpose slid into place with terrifying ease. She watched it happen and found herself unable to look away, her focus narrowing until the world reduced itself to the space he occupied.

Lamplight cut across the hard planes of his face, shadowing the angles of his jaw, catching on the disciplined set of his mouth. It threaded through his inky curls, dark shot through with gold where the light touched, as though even illumination bent to him. The more deliberate his thoughts became, the more the intensity radiated off him in slow, pulsing waves. Conviction settled into his posture. Resolve straightened his spine, broadened his shoulders.

Shiraya, he was magnetic.

When he turned to her, amber eyes dark with intent, something tightened sharply in her chest. This was not fury. This was command. The kind that did not shout, did not demand, but simply decided -- and expected the galaxy to follow. Heat stirred low and she felt a pull she did not try to resist.

She finished her drink in one smooth motion and set the glass aside, needing the steadiness of clear thought even as her pulse betrayed her. Light kissed her skin as she moved, caught in the sway of seed pearls at her temples, the rich fall of her chestnut hair, the gold-threaded regalia that marked her station. Authority meeting authority.

Ever so lowly, Sibylla crossed the space between them slowly, deliberately, each step charged. The air tightened with every pace until she stood mere inches from him, close enough to feel his warmth, to feel the force of his presence pressing in. Her breath quickened despite herself; or perhaps because of herself.

This was Aurelian at his most formidable. Focused. Unyielding...and Shiraya help her, it drew her in like a flame.

"Dominique," Sibylla agreed, her voice low and husky with certainty as much as feeling.

Her gaze never left his, even as fingers twitched to reach out to him.

"We reach out to her," she continued softly. "We reinforce our plan. We move decisively. And then we bring Ravion down."

A faint subtle smile curved her lips.

"Together."

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: This is a good distraction
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes

Aurelian barely heard the waterfall anymore. His mind was already racing ahead, mapping steps, pressure points, names that could be leveraged or discarded. Corvalis at the center of it all, a problem with edges that could be pushed. Literally, if it came to that. The thought didn't shock him. It steadied him. Anger had finally found a direction.

Then Sibylla crossed the space between them. The plans faltered. Not stopped, just… delayed. His eyes locked on her without permission, tracking the line of her movement, the certainty in it. She didn't hesitate. The closeness hit him harder than the drink had. Heat, familiarity, danger. All of it coiled tight in his chest.

She stood right in front of him, close enough that he could feel her breath, close enough that the world narrowed to the space between them. His thoughts kept moving, but now they ran alongside something sharper, more physical. He liked this version of her. Liked that she didn't flinch when things turned ugly. Liked that she chose him anyway.

She agreed with him. Dominique. Together.

He nodded once, slow and deliberate. "Together," he echoed. The word felt solid. Anchoring. His frustration finally had somewhere useful to go. And before she could say anything else, he moved.

One swift motion. Hands firm, decisive, lifting her clean off the ground. For half a second he felt the rush of it, the risk, the way her weight trusted him without question. He set her on top the stone ledge of the balcony, the roar of the falls yawning just behind her. Too close. Intentionally so. He stepped in immediately, his body the only thing between her and the drop.

Adrenaline sang through him. Control. Precision. He had both.

He kissed her hard, all restraint gone, the kind of kiss that swallowed thought and demanded attention. The impact of it knocked the decanter from the rail. It shattered somewhere out of sight, liquor splashing up and across her white beaded dress. He felt it, smelled it, didn't care.

He pulled back just long enough to look at the damage, eyes dark, unapologetic. "I'll have a new one made," he said, voice rough. "From my own tailors..."

Then he was back on her, hands sure, movements heavy with intent. This wasn't tenderness. This was momentum. This was a king who had found his footing again and a woman who stood exactly where she belonged, right at his side, even at the edge.

​