Public A Queen Without Her King

[Lady Kyoteru Seraphine]

Drystan Creed | Open

Bespin

The casino shimmered in gilded excess, a jewel of indulgence perched high above the gas giant's swirling clouds. Cloud City had always been a sanctuary for the powerful, the cunning, and the foolishly wealthy—those who knew that luck was merely a game of leverage, and that true fortune belonged only to those who knew how to tip the scales in their favor.

Lady Seraphine had come here tonight to play.

Her emerald gown, sleek and adorned with subtle gemstone embellishments, clung to her form in all the ways that invited stray glances without ever allowing them to linger long enough to assume familiarity. She moved through the casino floor with a gait that spoke of refinement, a glass of something expensive in hand, her manicured fingers idly tracing its rim. The scent of credits, ambition, and desperation was thick in the air, laced with the occasional flash of triumph or ruin.

She enjoyed the stakes. Enjoyed the power of the gamble, not because she trusted chance, but because she always ensured she never truly lost. Tonight, though, there was an edge of restlessness beneath her carefully sculpted veneer. The thrill of the game was not enough. The company of wealthy, arrogant men eager to impress, or dangerous figures who thought themselves her equal felt lacking.

She had once known companionship that could match her stride. A partner, a counterpart, a presence that was not merely an accessory, but a foundation.

Kaito Starfall

She did not think his name often, but when she did, it cut through the silk of her composure like a blade. Her husband. Her estranged husband. The man who had once stood beside her not just in title, but in presence. They had been something formidable together, once. And now…?

A sigh, soft and wistful, passed her lips before she could silence it. She excused herself from the table with a practiced smile, collecting her winnings with a slow, deliberate gesture before turning away from the clamor and indulgence, tucking her winnings in to an elegant clutch.

The private balcony welcomed her with a cool night breeze, the lights of the city stretching far beneath her, golden and ethereal. It was beautiful—just like everything else in her life. Beautiful, extravagant, and profoundly empty.

With a slow movement, she lifted her glass, taking a sip of the amber liquid within. It burned, but not in the way she needed it to. He closed her eyes tight and downed the rest in one go.

And then, without meaning to, without wanting to. her lashes lowered, her breath caught, and she felt the weight of absence.

Her throat tightened. Her fingers trembled, just slightly, and she curled them more firmly around the delicate stem of her glass, unwilling to let even grief steal her poise.
A queen without her king. A throne with no second seat.

A single tear slipped, catching in the glow of the city lights before she brushed it away with an unhurried sweep of her gloved hand, as though it had never been there at all. The moment passed. It always did.

With her composure regained, she turned back toward the city. The night was still young. There were still games to play, fortunes to shift. And perhaps—if the mood struck—she might even find herself a new distraction. Nay, not a king. No, never that. But perhaps... something pretty enough to fill the space at her side for an evening.

 

[Drystan Creed]

BESPIN

WEARING

"Blow on that for me, love."

Drystan lifted a closed fist, dice held within, to the Zeltron woman at his side. She smirked knowingly, leaning in to exhale a soft breath over his hand.

A small act. A calculated gesture.

Drystan stood at the craps table, dice in hand, an eyepatch covering his left eye, and an immaculate white tuxedo draped over his frame. A modest crowd had gathered around him, their eyes locked on the game.

With precise, effortless motion, he tossed the dice.

They rolled—tumbled—landed. Cheers erupted from the crowd. The dealer's expression soured. Drystan smirked.

"And that's another seven. Looks like I win again. Seventh seven. Seventy-seven?"

A chuckle rippled through the bystanders as he raked in his winnings, the casino chips stacking into an ever-growing pile beside him.

To his other side, a Twi'lek woman raised a cigarette to his lips. He took a slow drag before she replaced it with a glass of whiskey, offering him a sip.

Everything about him—the confidence, the smirk, the cool arrogance—was a mask.

A perfectly crafted performance.

Drystan was undercover.

Every movement, every expression, every bit of charm replicated—a seamless imitation of the high-rollers and social elite who walked the casino floor. His streak of impossibly good luck? Nothing more than mastered precision. Having observed the exact motions, angles, and forces needed to roll whatever he wanted, he could replicate it perfectly.

His talent wasn't limited to the battlefield.

"Once I win this next one, drinks are on me."

A resounding cheer erupted from the crowd. He had won enough credits to buy drinks for the entire night—and still walk away with a small fortune.

To them, he was just another charismatic gambler, reveling in glory, luxury, and excess.

But the credits, the women, the spectacle—none of it mattered.

Drystan was here for one reason.

A lead. A whisper of Sith dealings with the Black Sun—credits and artifacts exchanging hands, or worse.

The trail had led him here.

The role he played, the fortune he had amassed, the reputation he was building—all of it was camouflage.

He wasn't here to indulge. He was here to hunt.

Lady Kyoteru Seraphine

 

[Lady Kyoteru Seraphine]

Drystan Creed | Open

Lady Seraphine spotted a table of interest. The energy around it was electric, alive with excitement, indulgence, and the sweet, intoxicating scent of victory. But beneath the glittering facade of revelry, there was something else—something practiced. Calculated. Cold.

Kyoteru saw right through the man.

She had spent too many years in the company of men like this, men who played at charm and dripped confidence like expensive cologne. She had watched hollow arrogance wrapped in silk waltz across casino floors, had learned long ago to tell the difference between a true player and a man desperate to convince the world that he belonged.

She wouldn't call him on it—not yet. No, no. That simply would ruin the fun.

Instead, she would indulge him, if only to watch how far he was willing to take the performance.

Her lips curled, slow and knowing, a soft huff of amusement slipping from her as she lifted her glass, tilting it just so with an invitation, followed by an appraisal.

"Oh, darling,~" she purred, voice dipped in syrup and silk, just enough to tease, just enough to taunt.

"Winning streaks make men bold. You should be careful not to waste all that luck before the night is through."

She took a slow sip, letting her gaze drag over him, emerald eyes drinking in the immaculate tuxedo, the careful smirk, the too-perfect ease with which he moved.

And then, with the smallest tilt of her head, and a whisper of a challenge...

"Tell me… are you truly here to win?"

Or, like her, had he come to take something far more valuable?

 

[Drystan Creed]

BESPIN

Before Drystan could roll another seven, he stopped mid-shake, his attention shifting.

A newcomer. She stood out—immediately. Not just in appearance. There was something distinguished about her. An aura that set her apart from the usual clientele. Even next to the two women beside him, she was unmistakable. And that dress didn't look too bad on her either. This might have been the breakthrough he was waiting for.

"Mind if I change the bet?"

He pushed his entire stack of ludicrously high winnings onto the table. All in.

A nod to the dealer.

Then—his focus returned to the woman before him.

"Truth be told, I've always been bold. Winning streak or not. I'd rather lose thirty times in a row than stop at nine."

He smirked, rolling the dice in his palm.

"If I quit at nine, it means I lost confidence in myself. And that's just not something I do."

Without even looking, he tossed the dice behind him.

The crowd held their breath as they tumbled—

Then, snake eyes.

Exactly as he intended. A deliberate loss.

The atmosphere shifted immediately. The crowd dispersed, their interest vanishing now that the streak was over. The women at his side peeled away. The dealer looked ecstatic, finally raking in the winnings for the house.

Drystan? Unbothered.

He exhaled, finally allowing himself to lean back slightly, rolling his shoulders.

"I guess you could say I was looking for something." His gaze met hers, steadier now.

"And if I find it, I'd consider that a win."

The game had served its purpose. Now, it was just the two of them.

He studied her for a moment before flipping the conversation.

"And who might you be?" His voice was smooth, intrigued—but laced with something sharper, deeper.

"You don't strike me as someone easily impressed by a good stroke of luck."

Lady Kyoteru Seraphine

 

[Lady Kyoteru Seraphine]

Drystan Creed
Her lips curled into a subtle smile, eyes glinting with curiosity as she leaned slightly closer, taking in the bold declaration and calculated move before her. "How very... theatrical," she responded, her tone smooth yet edged with amusement. "You gamble not just with dice but with your own bravado. Risky play, but I suppose that's part of your charm."


She paused, "And yet, here you are, surrendering your confidence as easily as you rolled those dice." she tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing just enough to show she was not one to be underestimated, "what exactly are you hoping to find in a place like this?"

Her gaze remained locked on his, "You're right. I'm not easily impressed by luck alone. It takes more than a streak of winning—or losing—to capture my interest. So, if you're seeking something, I'd suggest being a bit more forthcoming. After all, fortune favors the bold, but it rewards those who know how to play their cards right."

 

[Drystan Creed]

BESPIN

"Nothing worth having comes without risk."

Drystan smiled, effortlessly maintaining the debonair facade as he studied her—watching for subtle shifts in posture, flickers of expression.

Anything telltale.

Anything that might help him in his hunt.

This was his first real lead since taking on this operation, and he wouldn't let it slip away so easily.

So, he played his role.

The charming bachelor, the high-rolling collector, a man chasing exotic indulgences.

"I've heard a few murmurs. Nothing substantial." He exhaled slowly, his tone casual. "I'm an avid collector, always looking for something... rarer for my collection."

His words were vague—revealing just enough to gauge her reaction, but not enough to show his full hand.

Because for all his charm, he didn't trust her.

Not yet.

He didn't know who she was or why she had approached him—despite her apparent disinterest in his lucky streak.

"Though..." He let his gaze drift over her, a smirk replacing his smile.

"I suppose I've already found something elegant standing right in front of me."

He leaned in slightly, his voice low and smooth.

"I still haven't gotten your name yet. Is that something you part with easily—"

A slight pause.

"Or do I need to buy you a drink first?"

Lady Kyoteru Seraphine

 

[Lady Kyoteru Seraphine]

Drystan Creed
She smiled at that, the kind of smile that didn't so much warm as it did sharpen, like the slow draw of a blade from its sheath. Lifting her glass, she swirled the amber liquid within, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make him aware of it. Then, with a soft hum of mock consideration, she took a sip and exhaled as though savoring something particularly amusing.

"To think," she mused, her tone dipped in velvet and edged with something undeniably wry, "that you have credits enough to burn en masse, yet not the foresight to invest in something as simple as manners."

Her gaze settled on him then, deliberate and knowing. "Or is it common practice where you're from to ask for someone's name before offering your own? Because where I come from, that's a rather uncouth habit."

She tilted her head, watching him as though he were some intriguing puzzle yet to be solved. "Allow me to educate you, darling—when one desires an introduction, one first has the courtesy to offer their own." Her lips curled ever so slightly. "It's a small thing, really. A matter of etiquette."

She let the words hang between them, fingers idly tracing the rim of her glass as she regarded him with that same measured patience. Then, with a delicate arch of her brow and the ghost of a smirk, she added, "But if you'd rather we dispense with pleasantries entirely, well… I do hope you're planning to be exceptionally entertaining in other ways."

 

[Drystan Creed]

BESPIN

Drystan internally twitched—she had caught on quickly to his hesitation, his reluctance to introduce himself first.

An underestimation on his part. One he immediately corrected.

His expression remained calm, his cool smile never wavering, feigning ignorance with practiced ease.

"Apologies," he said smoothly. "I'm just so used to people introducing themselves to me first. I was taken aback when you hadn't given me your name within the first minute."

A small pause.

"I'm Dresdin. Dresdin Crow."

A cover name. An alias. And he delivered it flawlessly. Because he wasn't just pretending to be composed—he was replicating it.

Every stance, every gesture, every nuance of someone effortlessly in control. Layers upon layers of deception, a persona carefully constructed and worn like an expertly tailored suit.

When she mentioned entertainment, his brow lifted slightly.

"Entertainment?" His voice carried amused curiosity.

"My, I can't even begin to imagine what sort of entertainment you'd be looking for."

His gaze drifted over the casino, a world of luxury and excess stretching before them.

"A place like this has more to offer than any person could ever want."

Then, his smirk sharpened.

"But I think we're in the same boat. I wasn't exactly looking for it here—rather, I was looking for someone who could take me to what I wanted."

Drystan's voice remained smooth, deliberate.

His gaze met hers, studying her reaction as he let the moment stretch just long enough.

"Would that person be you, by any chance? Ms…?"

He let the words hang, his tone inviting, banking on her introducing herself formally so he could at least have a name to work with.

Lady Kyoteru Seraphine

 

[Lady Kyoteru Seraphine]

Drystan Creed

Seraphine's lips curled, the amusement in her eyes glinting like the rim of her glass as she brought it to her lips. She took an unhurried sip, savoring the moment as much as the drink.

"Oh, Mr. Crow," she mused, silken voice laced with dry amusement. "You're used to spending your time with beautiful young girls, aren't you?"

But she wasn't one of them.

Without so much as a glance, she reached out and plucked a high-value betting chip from her purse. The weight of it rested in her palm for only a second before she flicked it onto the nearest sabacc table. A sharp clack. A bet placed without hesitation, without looking at the cards, without needing to.

Confidence not in luck, but in herself.

"As for me…" A knowing smile. "My friends just call me Kyo."

She watched curious to see if he truly understood what kind of company he was keeping.

 

[Drystan Creed]

BESPIN

"Kyo?" Drystan repeated, as if testing how the name felt on his tongue. He already liked the way his own sounded when she spoke it.

At her comment about how he spent his time, he offered only a warm smile.

"I'm not worried about who I've spent my time with, and neither should you." His voice was smooth, assured. "Just know that I'd like to spend it now—with you."

Without missing a beat, he mirrored her movements, taking a matching chip from his pocket and placing it down.

But this wasn't just about playing the game.

This was an opportunity—a chance to push his query further.

"Let's be honest." His gaze met hers, his tone carrying just enough intrigue to hook her attention.

"You don't strike me as the type who finds betting just credits to be… interesting."

He leaned in slightly, letting the moment linger.

"How about a wager to spice things up?"

His smirk was subtle, inviting.

"Something on the line that isn't just numbers."

A pause. A beat of silence, letting the suggestion settle.

Then, casually—

"So—what do you think?"

Lady Kyoteru Seraphine

 

[Lady Kyoteru Seraphine]

Drystan Creed

Kyoteru met his gaze with a touch of interest, amusement, and... calculation? Perhaps all three. The pause that followed wasn't idle; it was deliberate, weighing the moment in her own unspoken way.

"You've my interest... I'm listening." she mused, in a soft murmur, as if deciding just how much of that intrigue she wished to reveal.

Her fingers tapped against the table, considering, before finally, she tilted her head, eyes glinting with something sharp. "Let's hear it, then. What kind of wager did you have in mind?"

 

[Drystan Creed]

BESPIN

"It's a simple wager, really. Like I said before—just betting credits between us wouldn't be any fun."

A smile, easy yet deliberate.

"So if I win—a drink at your place."

His eyes narrowed slightly, the smirk still lingering.

"And if you win—well, you can keep that to yourself."

He wasn't planning to lose.

And he wanted to know more about her.

Perhaps, under the guise of a more intimate setting, he could gain access to her personal lodgings—a chance to uncover useful information for his mission.

She was too well put together, too calculated. Asking outright for what he wanted would likely blow his cover.

So, he played the long game.

"How does that sound, Ms.Kyo?"

Lady Kyoteru Seraphine

 

[Lady Kyoteru Seraphine]

Drystan Creed
A soft hum passed her lips as a touch of amusement flickered behind her emerald eyes. Seraphine took her time, because power was in the pause, in the way she let silence tease the air between them. Finally, she leaned in just enough for her perfume to become an invitation of its own, the ghost of a smirk curling at the edge of her mouth.

"A drink at my place…" she echoed, tasting the words like a vintage too fine to be rushed. "A bold wager, but I find myself wondering—" Her fingers trailed along the rim of her glass before she lifted it to take a sip, lashes lowering ever so slightly. "—why bother with all the pretense?"

She set the glass down with a deliberate softness, tilting her head, watching him. "You've already piqued my curiosity. It would be a shame to waste time on a game when we could be enjoying something far more… indulgent."

A slow smile, sultry and laced with devious amusement. "I've been a widow long enough," she murmured, her voice a velvety confession, "and I think it's time I indulged a little."

She leaned back, a picture of self-assured ease, but there was challenge in her eyes. "So, why don't we forget the bet and skip to the part where you come back to mine? Dinner. A night of entertainment. Unless, of course, you prefer to drag this out?" A playful flick of her gaze down his frame before she met his eyes again, smirking. "Something tells me you're not the patient type."

 

[Drystan Creed]

BESPIN

"While I can normally be as patient as needed..."

Drystan's smile curved into a smirk. Now was not the time for restraint.

She had invited him here because of his boldness—not in spite of it. So now was the time to push further. To be even bolder.

"You're making that rather difficult. Not that I mind."

This was exactly the invitation he had been waiting for. And more than that—she seemed eager. While he still carried caution, things had gone about as smoothly as he could have hoped. Any further attempts to charm her would only be a waste of time. But he needed to seal the deal—to showcase his desire. To prove that his interest wasn't fleeting—that it wasn't just part of a game.

And truth be told? It wasn't exactly difficult to want her. The way the dress curved around her body. The scent of her perfume, subtle yet intoxicating. Her emerald gaze, sharp and unreadable. Every detail drew him in and he used this to help him press further into his investigation. Though in the back of his mind, he was agreeing with her words. Perhaps he just might indulge a little as well.

So, he acted. His hand closed around hers, his darkened eyes locking onto her own, gaze sharpening into something heated.

"I like the sound of that. However..."

A pause. A slow, deliberate lift of her hand.

"We should skip dinner and get right to dessert instead."

And then, he pressed his lips to the back of her hand. A kiss. An acceptance of her invitation.

Lady Kyoteru Seraphine

 

[Lady Kyoteru Seraphine]

Drystan Creed

Seraphine's smirk curled, slow and knowing, as she regarded him with the indulgent air of a queen reconsidering the worth of a tribute offered at her feet.

A soft hum slipped from her lips, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass as though contemplating a thought far more interesting than whatever he had just said.

Then, with a languid tilt of her head, she let her gaze flicker over him, not assessing, no, but reassessing.

"My dear Mr. Crow," she drawled, amusement glinting in her emerald eyes, "I was so swept up in the moment, so terribly intrigued, that I nearly forgot—"

A pause.

A deliberate sip of her drink.

Then, in a tone dipped in velvet and laced with mirth, she leaned in just enough for her words to land precisely where she wanted them.

"—I am not some common creature who forgets herself in the throes of a wager. Skipping dinner? Skipping dinner?" She exhaled a laugh, soft but cutting, like silk wrapped around a blade. "What sort of uncivilized brute do you take me for?"

She straightened, smoothing an invisible crease from her gown as if to remind the very air around them that she was a woman of stature, of refinement; not some starved thing ready to pounce at the first hint of an invitation.

"No, no. I've changed my mind," she declared, plucking a fresh betting chip from the table between her fingers and flipping it idly before letting it drop with a sharp clack. "If a man cannot appreciate the symphony of a well-curated meal, then what other pleasures might he rush through with such reckless abandon?"

She gave him a once-over—pointed and assessing, and just bored enough to let the jab sink in.

"Ah, well." She sighed, placing a hand over her chest in an exaggerated display of regret. "I suppose I shall have to entertain myself this evening, after all."

And with that, she turned on her heel, composed, leaving behind nothing but the scent of her perfume and a ghost of laughter that lingered just long enough to remind him exactly who was in control.

 

[Drystan Creed]

BESPIN

Hmph. Fine then. So getting access to her suite wouldn't be that easy. Drystan sighed inwardly, watching as Kyo walked away, effortlessly slipping through the crowd.


As she did, he lifted his eyepatch, revealing a high-tech contact lens glinting against his pupil. A subtle blink activated its tracking feature, locking onto her signature as she weaved through the sea of bodies. As she walked away, it would seem as if the Shadow disappeared completely from where he previously stood.
--

Some time later, Drystan stood outside the casino, moving from vantage point to vantage point with calculated precision.

The tuxedo was gone—replaced by a utilitarian jumpsuit, his lightsaber now clasped at his belt.

The plan was simple: Find and track her until she retired for the night.

Finding the suite on his own? Not likely. Too many rooms, too many variables. He'd have to go through them discreetly, and the chances of picking the right one on a whim were slim at best.

This required patience. And patience was something he had in spades.

Lady Kyoteru Seraphine

 

[Lady Kyoteru Seraphine]

Drystan Creed


Lady Seraphine had decidedly had her fill of the casino this night. The glitz had dulled, and the charm had soured. The scent of credits and cologne no longer entertained her, rather it irritated. Another game, another pretender, another delicate dance that ended in disappointment or disinterest. It was all so expected.

Trailing just a half step behind, her an ever-present shadow moved like a phantom in her wake.

He was tall, broad in the shoulders, with dark auburn-red hair pulled back in a low tie, what remained of it, anyway. The left side of his face told a different story. Gnarled, burn-scarred, like someone had tried to cook the man alive and failed miserably. The black trench coat he wore swayed as he walked, hiding the weapons he carried beneath. But there was no mistake, there followed a simple fact that this man was a weapon in his own right. And unlike so many in Cloud City, he wasn't there to play.

His gaze cut through the crowd, in an almost unblinking stare. Every corner, every bystander, every polished droid got a second glance, and sometimes a third. Paranoid? Perhaps. But his tour of duty was not one he took lightly. Not when it came to her.

When Seraphine moved, he followed. Not like a servant and not like a soldier.... more like a wolf.

Eventually, the pair made their way toward the private docking platforms. A valet was already waiting, alerted ahead of time by a subtle gesture from her. Timing was everything, after all.

The ship was waiting for them. The Velorum Whisper gleamed like polished obsidian under the city lights cutting a sleek profile. The ramp extended in silence, as uniformed crew members, handpicked and efficient stood at attention as their lady approached.

Inside, the ship's interior came alive: golden glows tracing along the lounge floor, the subtle thrum of systems warming beneath the surface, the scent of spices and silk in the air.

The Velorum Whisper lifted into the night sky of Bespin, its course was already plotted: Takodana. Her mountain stronghold awaited.

The journey itself passed in a slow hush, Seraphine reclined within her private lounge, her thoughts drifting not to the game she had abandoned, but to the one she was about to begin.

By the time they arrived at Takodana, the storm was closer. The sky cracked in distant flashes above the mountains, silver-blue veins against charcoal clouds. The palace loomed ahead chiseled into the cliffside like it had grown from the rock itself, ancient and resplendent, carved with symbols whose meaning had long been forgotten or erased on purpose.

This strong hold was where she retired to her chambers.