Private Amongst Sovereigns

[Aurellia]

CORUSCANT
ONE WEEK AFTER SYSTEM SHOCK
Mercy​

Aurellia followed a soldier through what must have been the Galactic Empire's hall of honor, where false idols were being brought down. Towering depictions of Sith from ages past, carved into ebony stone, were felled with ropes around their neck. The queen mother's gaze caught the stone eyes of a twi'lek, just before the statue's head hit the floor and shattered. Instinct informed the queen this was no quickest path, and she quickly began to suspect Mercy had instructed her to be brought this way, as if to say, "look what I have done." A final reminder before they met, in case the intimidation of the fleet above the center of the galaxy flying her banners hadn't been enough.

The throne room doors groaned open, and in Aurellia strutted, clad in black and gold. It was a far cry from Hape's seat. There was no herald's cry - the Sith did not need that. Power ruminated through the walls, coalescing around the red head. When the Queen Mother stopped short of the throne, she did not bow, but did offer a nod.

"Empress."

"What would a killer like me do with a title like that?"

"What is a killer like you to do with a title like that? Though I must admit, it suits you better than ducha ever did."

 

[Mercy]

Aurellia

The throne was no longer the obsidian-ran marble from which the whole defensive infrastructure of Coruscant could be controlled. The gravity of power had shifted decisively.

Those controls could now be found elsewhere courtesy of Arris Windrun .

Instead Aurellia would realize Mercy was sitting on a work of art. A marbled statue that consisted of an amalgamation of shapes. Imperials, coiled into one another, dead and in their last moments of life. No, the Throne of the Core was no longer here, instead there was a reminder of the butchery that had been executed by the plans and logistics of Meliant , newly crowned Emperor of Coruscant. He had his own seat, elsewhere, because Mercy had declared the throne room would no longer be anything but a reminder.

A place where she would sit when needed or otherwise young Acolytes could come in and see the ending with their own eyes.

As an inspiration to any future Lords who craved power and fuel their ambition.

"What is a killer like you to do with a title like that? Though I must admit, it suits you better than ducha ever did."

"Oh, don't gloat, sweetheart." Mercy murmured, tone warm and appreciative. "I know it is tempting, considering you were right, I was wrong, and I crave the power of rule after all."

Those statuesque shoulders shrugged lazily. It showcased that regardless of the words, Mercy's hypocrisy didn't bother her.

The purview of those with power.

"Empress."

"Is it not interesting how I declared a Kaggath for his titles... and yet everyone automatically names me Empress rather than Emperor or Imperator after I took with violence what I was not given by right of ritual?"

The head tilted, resting on her knuckles, elbow on the marbled head of some Imperial officer. But those amber eyes only saw Aurellia in that moment, focus entirely hers.

"Why do you think that is, Queen Mother?"

 

[Aurellia]

“Some assume, I’m sure, and some seek that petty insolence.” Leaning back on one foot, a hand swiped Aurellia’s cloak away to come and rest on a hip. “Yet I would not seek to lump you in with their ilk. An Empress is in better company. Emperors rise and fall within a decade, by ego or lust or some other folly, and their names are naught but letters upon a datapad.”

Though the answer had flowed smoothly off of Aurellia’s tongue, some measure of confusion wove its wave through delicate features, as she gazed upon Mercy on her throne.

“Femininity is not a thing to spurn.”

The Hapan truth, put bluntly, with vigor. Mercy was a woman who had conquered this world, surrounded by women who had aided her cause. Any brute could slay a man and hold his hill, for a time. It was a goddess’s place to reign.

“And if you don’t like the title, feed the next poor soul to name you such to beasts of the lower levels and create a new one. Such is your right.”

 

[Mercy]

Aurellia

“Femininity is not a thing to spurn.”

Mercy licked her lips there, thoughtful, as she considered Aurellia's earlier words and then what followed.

"Oh, darling, how can I spurn that which I worship so gladly?" And the answer was: easily and without consideration. But it was easy to believe, coming from a woman who hated men so eagerly. It would be hard to believe... that a woman like that could hate her own sex, or hate femininity, it would make no sense at all.

She stretched as she shrugged and nodded.

"Such is my right." Agreed with easily and simple, but Mercy was watching Aurellia with interest. Maybe a touch of hunger. That wasn't strange, she often looked hungry.

Whether that be for a meal, for a brawl or an actual war, was anyone's guess.

"We haven't spoken in a while. How is my Queen Mother? Is the Cluster I won for you with a rock and a skull broken to your liking?" Eyebrows going up to her.

"Was it everything you imagined it to be?"

 

[Aurellia]

"And more." Aurellia agreed, without hesitation. "You may hardly recognize it. Rebuilt in splendor since your last visit. The court is quiet, either out of fear or... contentment. Rebel activity has all but vanished."

The queen began to absently pace as she spoke, eying the banners that lined the hall.

"Even the foreigners leave us in peace, with the Black Sun setting, and the Trade Federation thoroughly occupied with your antics."

Yet here she was, in the Core, leaving her beloved jewels of the Cluster like a man might a wife when he grew tired of dull monotony. It had been months since she had walked Hapan ground, yet she did not ache for it as she should.

"I do not forget your part in making it possible." A sidelong glance found Mercy, mischief manifesting in the corners of Aurellia's mouth. "Rather, I think of it often."

 

[Mercy]

Aurellia

"Do you?" She murmured softly as she finally rose up. The mountain that moved, leaving the statue of remembrance that served as her seat behind, as she took the steps down towards the Queen.

"And what inspires you during those moments of thought? Does it leave you warm? Thrilled? Excited?"

Finally standing in front of her.

Her hand reaching out gently, fingers golden and terrible, stroking her jaw. Guiding Aurellia's face back to Mercy and up. Somehow Mercy was even bigger than the last time they saw each other. A mountain, true and true, with eyes like caverns filled by fire. There were still moments when they flickered out and her real eyes showed.

But they became more and more sparing.

"What is it that you desire for your support, my darling Queen. What can I offer you to please you? What gift may I give to she, who owns the Jewels of the Mist?"

Ever the poet, Mercy was, when she desired to be so.