And I can't breathe when you cry, but I'll be there to hold you tight... (Invite)

[Avicus DuSang]

Dosuun - Kestokian Mountains
Chateau DuSang

Atop the Kestokian range rested the new home of the DuSangs. The obsidian structure rose up from the blanket of snow. The new palisades that would serve as his stronghold while within the First Order. The grounds were hundreds of miles outside of Avalonia. The spot was a fortress of solitude, beautiful and dark.

Even the Grand Moff enjoyed herself here.

But today was a day for family. Weeks ago, his beloved daughter [member="Ophelia DuSang"] graduated from the University of Coruscant. She had made him so incredibly proud. Avicus and Viktor were on Coruscant for the ceremony. Viktor could only stay for the day as his position within the First Order didn't give him much time to not be attached to the Grand Moff's hip.

But Avicus stayed a few days. It had been some time since he had gotten to see Phie, so they spent a lot of time catching up. He also enjoyed the company of some of her friends. It couldn't be helped. They were all so lovely, and impressed by the Dark God's charm.

Phie had wanted to come out to spend some time with her father and brother. Avicus couldn't help but want to talk to her about making it a more permanent arrangement. She was finally done with University and her presence had certainly been missing from her life.

Hands clasped behind his back, he roamed the obsidian halls of the new manor, yellow eyes resting on the statues of old Sith Lords and the paintings of the ancient battles. Memories lost to the ravages of time, but forever preserved here in this small corner of the Galaxy.

Pulling out a cigar, he sparked it up as he took a long drag.

 

[Ophelia DuSang]

Chatoyer Tower, Coruscant

“Warm weather, cold weather, formal, gym and dressing…” Ophelia’s lady-in-waiting, Renée Laurent, counted the cases and crates that crowded the foyer of Chatoyer. Couriers would arrive soon to take what looked like half her life away and ship it ahead to Dosuun, “… stretched canvases, rolled canvases, oil, watercolor, and charcoal.”

Ophelia was sitting at a writing desk, half listening and half composing the last of her graduation 'thank you' cards. Renée’s yellow-haired haired cousin, Simone, moved to a console table against a wall that had been completely overwhelmed with small boxes. She quietly contemplated the pretty parcels for a moment, considering their cream paper and tangerine bows, before beaming a smile, “These are from Coquelicot!” She called, sounding instantly eager. “Phie, what’s in them?”

Ophelia’s pen paused. She drew in a lengthy breath before shifting in her seat and pointing to each box in turn, “Madeleines, petit fours, pain au chocolats, gougères, éclairs, and...” She sighed, amused at herself for ordering so much,“… every macaroon.” Awe transformed Simone’s expression, but her features were quickly clouded by a mask of theatrical despair. The corners of Ophelia’s mouth lifted, “Alas, I’m sure a box or two will be lost en route.”

“A box or two?” Simone’s mood had made a miraculous recovery, “… or three? Or four?”

Ophelia laughed, holding her companion a knowing glare, “Let’s say three, shall we?”

“Let’s.” Renée concurred from across the entry hall, slightly exasperated. As per usual, the darker-haired lady was working while her younger cousin played, “Chocolates and sweets? I can’t believe you. The couriers will be here in an hour.” Consulting the inventory on her holopad, she frowned, “I feel like I’m missing something.”

“And if you are it’s fine.” Ophelia assured her. Turning back to her desk, she singed her name to another card, “Avalonia has shops. Viktor will show me.” She sensed the girls’ interest pique at the mere mention of her brother’s name. The cousins had been positively jubilant when Viktor was on-world. He shared in their decadent predilections. Even more so than Viktor, Ophelia’s father, [member="Avicus DuSang"], had made them swoon with everything from his impeccable manners to his shrewd taste in wine.

How she loved watching them gallivant; equal parts confident conquerors and enchanting princes. How she missed them. “Everything I desperately need is already packed in my carry-on cases.” Ophelia blew on the glossy ink of her signature to dry it before setting the card aside, “Everything apart from the two of you, that is.” She added with a bittersweet grin.

“Awww!” Simone was suddenly emotional. The porcelain girl donned the most adorable pout, “But can’t you just take us with you now?”

“She’ll send for us once she’s settled, Simone.” Renée shut her down with a head shake, “Oh! Phie? Where’s that artifact you received from the archives? The graduation gift? You mentioned you wanted to take it with you but I don’t see it on the list.”

Oh, yes. That. Ophelia casually straightened a stack of envelopes, her eyes finding the rectangular obsidian box she had tucked away in a corner, hidden in the shadows of the desk. It had arrived the morning prior; a gift from the estate. When she had opened it, she could scarcely believe she was beholding a lightsaber hilt detailed with pure Electrum. The artifact was impossibly rare… and old, very old. The design dated back four or even five centuries.

She knew she shouldn’t wield it without first assessing the saber’s stability, but she couldn’t help herself. Ophelia had removed it from its case straightaway and assumed the most graceful, dance-like ready stance. Eyes closed, her finger had slipped to the switch as she braced herself for ignition. Deep breath, aaaaand…

Nothing.

There was no snap-hiss or melodic hum. No glorious, breathing light. Well, don’t I look silly? She had thought, relaxing her pose. Even defective, it was a priceless piece and even if it hadn’t come to life for her, it surely still had secrets to share. It was a pity, though. Ophelia never wanted to feel glum over such a gorgeous gift. C'est la vie.

“Phie?” Renée’s voice. It dragged her out of her daydream. Ophelia glanced in her direction.

“Oh, don’t fret, dear.” She began, putting on a sleepy little smile, “I… will… carry it with me.”

 

[Avicus DuSang]

Smoke rolled out of his lips as Damian approached him.

"Are the preparations finished?"

"They were hours ago, my Lord. Nervous?"

"No... Just lost in thought."

The assistant really didn't have anything to do with getting the house ready for [member="Ophelia DuSang"], however. It was mostly Viktor's butler; Sebastian Faust. The crimson eyed man drifted from room to room, making sure everything was spotless. Everything was in place. Nothing short of perfection. Viktor was delighted to have his sister joining them on Dosuun. His anticipation and excitement bled through to his butler's fervor.

Her room had been prepared, the large bay windows opening up to a snowy balcony that overlooked the mountainscape. The sheets pressed and placed upon the mattress. A large closet open and empty, ready for her clothes. Her mother's desk had been moved from the flat on Coruscant and brought to Dosuun to be in her room. It was placed near the balcony, but it could always be moved.

And then there was her graduation gift. Or, atleast part of it. Plants in the greenhouse had been moved around to allow for her art supplies. The room had been filled with some of the most beautiful flowers found across the Galaxy. As well as comfortable couches for her to relax in. A few of the old chairs from the Coruscanti flat were placed throughout the room so she wasn't confined to one spot within her space. Of course, if she didn't like it, he would spend whatever it took to give her a premiere art studio.

It was no secret that Phie was Avicus' favorite. He loved all of his children. Would do anything for them. But there was something about Phie that brought peace to him. He remembered back to the day she was born. Holding the newborn, his baby, in his arms. Not having any idea what he was doing. He was so young back then. But she opened her eyes and stared at him. He was so scared, but he made a promise to her that day that he would let no harm come to her...

"My Lord? Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yes, Damian. Was just thinking. Did she receive it?"

The assistant paused ever so briefly, but nodded.

"I personally delivered it to her."

"Thank you, Damian. I appreciate that."

"My Lord, if I may... It's only going to be a matter of time before they discover the truth."

"Then it's best that they're together."

"The Prince and Princess under the roof again. It'll be like old times."

"When does the Countess arrive?"

From outside, a ship could be heard landing on the pad outside the front door.

"Now, sir."

 

[Ophelia DuSang]

Dosuun - Kestokian Mountains

Ophelia was glued to the viewport of her star skiff, one white-gloved hand delicately pressed against the transparisteel. They had flown over the capital some time ago and she had marveled from on high at its classical structures. When the city fell behind and the landscape opened up, though, she was treated to a completely different variety of scenic loveliness.

She studied the landscape for as long as time permitted. Mountain tops and atmosphere. Glittering snow drifts and clean, open sky. She could never in her wildest fantasies do it justice with her paint brush, she decided. Sometimes the galaxy was too enormously exquisite to be tied down to a canvas and tamed.

The cabin bell chimed, followed by her pilot’s voice, “We are approaching your destination, my Lady. Please prepare for landing.” Ophelia’s heart fluttered like a hummingbird in her chest. Taking a mindful breath, she stood to slip her jacket on; a knee-length peacoat that matched her power blue a-line dress. She pivoted and paused, taking a look at herself in the cabin’s flush wall mirror. A smile touched her lips. It was like looking into the past.

Ophelia had worn the same shade blue once when her father came home. Only a child, her hair had been styled in bouncing curls. Viktor, little more than a baby, had tugged at them playfully as they waited in their mother’s Korriban study for [member="Avicus DuSang"] to come through the door. He always brought them the most incredible gifts from his many conquests and adventures. Books and sweets and magical treasures. Even twin tusk cat cubs, nestled in a Theed-wicker basket; purring as they slept by the crackling fire.

Wait... She thought, Tusk cat cubs? Did Viktor and I ever have...

Ophelia’s reality pulsed. She fell abruptly back into her seat. It’s okay. You can get through this. One breath… two… This had happened before. What was I thinking about? Closing her eyes, she tried going back. The study. The fireplace. The basket. The cu… ouch! Her focus was painfully repelled. Psychic whiplash. Wincing, she touched her head… and worried. Was she ill? Should she schedule an appointment with a physician? A priest?

The cabin chime rang for a second time, “My Lady, we have arrived at Chateau DuSang. You may disembark at your leisure.” The pilot informed. Ophelia glanced at the speaker in the ceiling and then nodded to herself. Bury it... She stood, lifting her travel case by its handle. Her father was waiting and, for him, she would be the embodiment of saccharine sunshine.

_________________________________________________________________

Chateau DuSang

Monstrously high double doors opened in tandem. Beyond them, marble floors so polished they could have been ice. Ophelia stepped across the threshold and spun around as she advanced. Eyes cast upward, she marveled at the way her father’s chandelier crystals sliced and scattered light. “Ahem…” A diminutive throat clear; small and polite, so as not to startle, “… my Lady.”

Ophelia knew that voice, “Damien!” Setting her case down, she moved to him, gloved hand extended. She dearly wanted to pull him into an embrace but Damien was a slave to protocol. The young countess feared he would crumble in her arms and expire. Ever the gentleman, though, he accepted her hand. “Why did you leave Coruscant so soon? Just a blink of an eye and you were gone.” Her head tilted as she sincerely smiled, “It would make me so happy if you would allow me to show you some hospitality next time.”

Stepping away, she looked backwards and forwards, here and there, “And where is…”

Just then, a brassy bellow from one of the uniformed footmen flanking the door, “Now presenting Fleet Admiral Avicus DuSang du Coruscant, Twenty-Third Earl of House DuSang!” Ophelia blinked, her hand resting just below her collar bone. Her chest swelled and she gratefully sighed.

“Father.”

 

[Avicus DuSang]

"Of course, Countess. Coruscant will always be our home."

Damian bowed and stood back as a servant announced the Dark God. Always a flair for the dramatics. Fingertips trailed along a sculpture of an ancient Sith Lord before yellow eyes turned to his daughter. His darling Ophelia. Avicus loved all of his children, but it was no secret that Phie was his favorite.

He looked into her eyes and was swept away to her birth. Those same eyes looking up at him as he cradled the newborn in his arms. With one look, she shattered and reforged his heart. He would do anything for her, all she had to do was ask. The same could be said about all of his children, of course. Aria was never shy to ask him to do things for her.

He approached her slowly, his little girl draped in blue. The shade was beautiful on her, brightly contrasted to the desolate sands of Korriban. How he hated the planet, but their mother insisted on studying there. The Sith Temple on Coruscant simply didn't hold the history. She craved the authentic experience, and moved her family to the graveyard of the Ancient Sith Empire. Avicus stayed when he could, but the planet was never home to him.

His arms wrapped around her as he pulled her close to him, his forehead resting on her own. He saw glimpses of the memories that tried to shake her. Black tendrils of the force coursed through her brain, pushing them back. Easing her. It was only a matter of time before she would learn the truth. She was a clever girl, his own flesh and blood. But today was not that day. He kissed her forehead softly as he smiled.

"Ma petite princesse. I'm so proud of you."

 

[Ophelia DuSang]

Bit by bit, her eyes closed. Her father’s darkness was cold against her mind, as opposed to the way her thoughts had been agitatedly burning. Like the shade in the summertime. [member="Avicus DuSang"]'s spell was sedating and she sensed her worries wander. She was waking from a dream and that dream was swiftly slipping away.

… I'm so proud of you.

Phie blinked, leaning back. There was an arcane haze she had to fight though as she reflected on the statement. Proud of me? Why? The doting daughter questioned. Perhaps it was his superior Force power making her feel a little drugged and drowsy, but the words didn’t make much sense. Had Ophelia accomplished something she was unaware of? She all of a sudden couldn’t remember.

Although, she had to admit to herself that the words felt good to hear. They flowed to her heart and unlocked it. For a shining moment, her spirit was aglow in a glittering light. Ophelia’s arms slipped around her father’s broad shoulders and she hugged him so tight. “Je t'aime, papa…” She kissed his left cheek and then his right before stepping back.

“Oh, Damien!” She looked to him, “Have my things arrived yet?”

The older man curtly nodded, “We have received a few of your things already, my lady. Yes.”

“Mm, wonderful.” Her expression was warmed with a delicious smile, “I brought sweets from Coquelicot’s. Your favorite.” She laughed amiably and added, “Although, Renée was very keen on having her way with them. I hope a few boxes survived the trip. And speaking of Renée…”

She turned back to her father. Eyes narrowing playfully, she gave him a knowing little smile, “The girls have been wretched without you.” She moved to speak again but thought better. Even more so than Viktor, her father was a famous flirt. She would simply have to trust him not to ruin her beloved ladies in waiting.

From her left, Damien spoke again, “I thought you’d enjoy a tour of the estate, my lady. In order to get your bearings and see your rooms.”

Ophelia’s expression contorted quizzically, “Rooms? Plural?” She asked, pondering for a moment before her slim shoulders bobbed within a breezy sigh. Excess was her father’s middle name. Admiral Avicus Excess DuSang. In fact, she wouldn’t be surprised if he had a mind to spoil her with a place to paint. Wait a moment. She paused and looked to him, a winking light of wonder in her eyes, “Father, what did you do?”

 

[Avicus DuSang]

"Je t'aime aussi." he said with the softest of smiles. "I've been miserable without them as well. I'll be sure to give them a warm welcome when they can finally make it to Dosuun."

Did fathers need a reason to praise their daughters? Avicus thought not. But, if she truly needed reasons, it would be for growing into the strong woman she was before him. For finding a passion that she adores and to pursue that passion at University. For being raised in a life of privelige and still being as kind as she has always been.

Avicus put a hand on his chest, feigning his best expression of being hurt. "Me? Your words wound me, ma princesse." He took her hand, walking through the hall. With his free hand, he grabbed his datapad out of his jacket pocket. "The outside walls are transparasteel. You can change the transparency with a datapad. Damien can help you with that." He moved some buttons on the datapad, and the mountainscape became visible from outside.

He lead them into the dining hall. Wooden walls with candles burning to illuminate the room. The DuSang family crest was at the center at the table. "Just last month we had entertained the Grand Moff and a few members of the Navy. She never takes off her gloves, you know. Can't imagine life like that..."

He brought her out to the living room. A grand room with transparsteel floors that looked down on a lavish garden of various plants. There was a large fireplace, over the mantle hung a portrait of himself, Phie, Viktor, and Aria. "Let me show you to your room." Walking up the stairs, he opened her double doors to reveal the room. "That's your mother's desk. Had it flown in from Coruscant."

He gave her time in order to take it all in before he stepped up beside her. "But wait. There's more." He walked over to a door beside her bathroom. Pushing a button, the door to the lift opened up. He lead his daughter in before pushing another button inside. The lift went up to the top floor of the manor, the greenhouse.

He lead her in, showing her around. "I know it's not much. But, I wanted to set aside some space for you to be able to work in peace. Besides, if you're up here distracted, that means I get time alone with your girls. It works out for everyone." He gave the slyest of grins before turning back to her. "If you don't like it, it can be changed. Just say the word."

[member="Ophelia DuSang"]

 

[Ophelia DuSang]

Ophelia wandered at her father’s side in a haze of blissful bewilderment. Sighing and smiling. Her gaze drifted up, down and all around as she drank in the grandeur. Her father’s home was a chateau but it felt like a palace. Opulent and gorgeous. Every little detail attended to.

Chatoyer Tower was luxurious and sleek… but cold at times. So very empty. Were it not for her ladies, Phie would be so desperately lonesome. Flesh and blood domestic servants had fallen out of fashion on Coruscant long ago, having been replaced for the most part with droids. They were perfectly punctual and efficient, of course. Many had even been programmed to be charismatic. Ophelia often wondered if the convenience of automated staff was worth the sacrifice, though.

All those idiosyncratic imperfections. Light and laughter. Sincerity.

As she travelled across the transparisteel floor, floating above a lush garden beneath, she took a moment to herself to marvel. Nature reaching up to touch technology. It occurred to her that her father’s home was old and new, melded together. Modern and antique. The best of both great worlds. Touching her heart, she felt it beat before following her father up the stairs.

As the double doors to her room opened, she stood on tiptoes, glancing over her father’s shoulder to steal a peek. It was surely her birthday, she thought, biting her lower lip before strolling inside. Ophelia moved to the bed, shifting her travel case to her left hand and she caressed the snowy, plush comforter with her right, when her father pointed out the desk.

Blinking, her giddy little daydream broke. She looked over, “Oh…” Her expression blank for a moment, “I… I hadn’t even noticed it was gone.” The desk had been a prominent fixture in her mother’s chambers, but it had been years since Ophelia had entered the room. Not since Korriban. Not since…

Hot pain eclipsed the place in her mind where her thoughts refused to go. Phie carefully donned a smile and stepped forward. She set her case beside the desk before touching its scalloped, gold embellishments and scaled leather surface, “Thank you.” She hushed in a bare little whisper. Noticing she was still wearing her gloves, she worked to remove them before following her father into the secret room.

They traveled up a lift and into a quaint verdant sanctuary. Her eyes were wide as she stepped into the greenhouse, hardly believing what she was seeing. Life and colors and light. An enchanting little nook to paint. All of it arranged with such love and consideration.

I know it's not much. But…

“This is all too generous, Father.” Her hand covered her mouth, glancing about in a little panic, before she found her father again, “C'est trop!”

Emotion bloomed in her chest, bubbling up to her cheeks where it painted a rosy glow. So overwhelmed by it all, she moved about the room, muttering lowly to herself in broken Coriscanti, “C'est trop… non… c'est si beau.”

She braked all of a sudden, remembering her manners. [member="Avicus DuSang"] had gone to such trouble to delight her and she was behaving like a little loon, “I’m so sorry. I’m being silly.” She sighed genuinely. Both hands moved to her heart as she looked to him, “Merci beaucoup, Papa.” Ophelia curtsied in a small gesture of respect and admiration, “If only I could repay your love.”

 

[Avicus DuSang]

The Fleet Admiral hated droid staff. He had humanoid servants in all of his estates. Mostly Zeltrosian. [member="Ophelia DuSang"] was an empath, a trait passed down to her from both parents. Viktor was also an empath. Even Aria without being blessed with her father's gifts, still experienced traces of empathic ability. Point was, he needed life near him. He spent a lot of time in isolation, yet he still needed to feel living, breathing heartbeats around him.

"Rien est trop pour vous, ma princesse." he said, looking to the ground.

"Non, Phie. Ce n'est pas vrai. Ton amour est plus que suffisant." he said, still looking to the ground. His voice rather soft. Yellow eyes moved to meet his daughter's gaze as he closed the distance between them. He placed a kiss on his forehead, his hand resting on her cheek. "You have your mother's eyes. You have grown into a woman that has surpassed her beauty. You're one of the few good things I have accomplished in my life."

Words that should've been said over 500 years ago. Words that he wouldn't fail to deliver again. "I know you're only planning on staying for the season, but I want you to consider making more permanent arrangements. I know you've grown used to living on your own during school, and that living under your father's roof again might squander that bit of independence you've been enjoying. Just give it some thought, alright?"

His hand left her cheek as he turned his back to her. "Starting tomorrow, we begin your training." He sparked up a cigarette, taking a long drag. "You're the oldest child of two deities of the Dark Side. It's time you embraced that legacy. The Galaxy is a dangerous place, and if something happened to you because I didn't teach you how to properly defend yourself, then anything that happens falls on me. Viktor has already begun his training to become a Knight of Ren.

"I will train you in the ways of the Sith."

Taking a long drag off of the cigarette, he exhaled the smoke through his nose. Yellow eyes turned back to his daughter. "You brought it, didn't you?" Of course she did. Her curiosity residing on the artifact was palpable. Her mother's lightsaber. "There are going to be some revelations that you and your brother will come to face in these next few months. You're both going to have to rely on each other in order to get through them. I can only prepare you so much..."

 

[Ophelia DuSang]

Her face was a mask, unmoving. Her eyes were twin pools, wide and glazed. She may have even ceased breathing, existing in a moment where time had stopped. Every child wants to be loved by their parents, she knew; every daughter wants to make their father proud. Ophelia was no exception. Far from it, in fact. She would tear the sky down if it would honor him. If he asked, she would conquer the cosmos in his name.

Glancing down at her hands, pale and soft, an old melancholy began to stir. And what tearing and conquering can I do with these? She dreamed of such grandeur but, in reality, she was still little more than a disappointment. Heiress to a dark throne, perhaps, but utterly unfit to wear the crown.

Father, there is something you should know. She wanted to say. I was too ashamed to tell you. The words were burning in her throat. Ophelia had never left Korriban of her own free will. She had been cast away. She had failed.


Having just turned fifteen, she was ready to become an anointed acolyte. Dressed in religious robes, black and crimson, she journeyed to the many-spired temple where she would accept her rank. Ophelia made the long procession down the Sith sanctuary’s obsidian nave until she came to the wide crossing before the altar… but paused, seeing there the figure of a young man. Bound and on his knees. Drenched in amber cathedral light.

What was she supposed to do? How had that been a reasonable request? Standing before him, her arm sluggishly extended. Hand shaking. Heart thrashing. Cold blood running through her veins. Just say the word and this will all be over. She thought to herself. The hilt in her hand pointed straight at her fellow student’s chest. Just think the spell and this will be done.

Her finger moved to the hilt’s ignition but she struggled to focus her intention on the crystal that resided just beneath. Kraujas’sh. She tried, but the saber remained dead in her hand. The boy before her was trembling and weeping; his life weighing so heavy on her soul. Kraujas… She tried again… ‘sh. Nothing still. He had been suffering those long moments, waiting for oblivion, and Ophelia couldn’t even give him a merciful end.

Just then the temple filled with the sound of an echoing crunch. It had happened so fast she hadn’t even seen the young acolyte’s head move, but there is was… his chin jutting well past his right shoulder blade. He was motionless for a full second… two… three… before he collapsed dead on the temple floor. Ophelia dropped the hilt in her hand. It rattled and spun. Her quivering palm moved to her mouth as she gagged on a scream.

It hadn’t been Ophelia who had ended him. No. That honor went to the priestess descending the altar steps. Blonde hair vanished beneath her hood as she glided past her daughter, quiet as death.

“Mother, please.” Ophelia began. Sobbing. Begging, “I’m sorry…I’m so sorry.” She moved a step forward, but froze; her body held in an invisible shield. It was impossible to advance.

“Leave.” The priestess’ words were wrapped in magic. It consumed her. “Go back to Coruscant. There is nothing for you here.”

Ophelia’s heart began breaking and the pain was destroying her, but the incantation possessed her mind so thoroughly that there was nothing she could do to protest the spell. Gods help me. She had silently prayed. Kill me so I don’t have to feel myself falling apart.


She drew a deep breath as the vision released her. Ophelia found herself again in a beautiful place. Life and light and love. Her father’s gentle touch still warming her cheek. So what was she to do now? Phie considered. Cry to him? Beg? Blather like the wounded exile who had lost her own mother’s sacred respect? No… She told herself. No, I can’t feel that again. Not from him. Never from him.

“Yes, Father.” Shoulders squared, she stood tall. If training was his command, then she would with composure and dignity obey, “As you wish.”

[member="Avicus DuSang"]

 

[Avicus DuSang]

The Dark God was turned away from [member="Ophelia DuSang"] as she recalled those events on Korriban. He saw it. Of course he saw it. A memory he made sure she had. Playing out exactly as it did centuries ago. That memory would fuel her. And when she was strong enough, she would learn the truth. The whole truth. Even the truth of that memory.

There was so much that she didn't know. So much she wasn't ready for. So much of that was his own fault. He kept her close. Kept her sheltered. Brought her back. Decisions he questioned regularly. He wondered how Sophie would feel about the situation. The Matriarch of their family. She was the order to his chaos. How he longed to feel her fingertips resting upon his cheek. Her sweet perfume drifting on the breeze.

Skin softened through bloodshed. She was a killer, but she was his killer. She was everything he wasn't. Strong where he was weak. He hung on every word. One look would make the God of Death weak at the knees. In his study, he kept one of her handkerchiefs in his desk with a bottle of her perfume. There were times he would press the cloth to his cheek, and he swore he could smell her. If he had the power to turn back time, he would've done it in a heartbeat. He would've made things right. He would've never strayed.

She deserved better than him.

Turning back to his daughter, he brought her close to him, holding her tightly. Time was immune to his divinity, but he could make things right again with his children. He could get some peace on the many regrets that haunted him daily. His cheek rested on the top of her head as he took a deep breath. "There's a lot of doubt in you. You don't think you're strong enough. I know you are. I believe in you. So, if you can't believe in yourself, believe in the me that believes in you."

He sniffled a bit, a lone, crimson tear rolling down his cheek. He released Ophelia, wiping the blood tear away. "Are you hungry? They're setting up dinner as we speak. And, frankly, I need a drink." He offered his arm to Phie as he took a long drag of his cigarette. Exhaling the smoke, he opened the lift, taking them back down to her bedroom. "All of the bedrooms have lifts that go to the greenhouse, actually. Aesthetic choice. I thought it added a bit of a unique flavor to the house."

Stepping into the dining hall, he took a seat the the head of the table. Holding out his glass, a servant came up and filled it full of wine. Taking a small sip, he let out a content sigh. A final drag of his cigarette was taken as he flicked it into the air. With a snap of his fingers, the combustion of the paper and tobacco was sped up exponentially. In a small flash, it was gone in a poof of ash and smoke.

 

[Ophelia DuSang]

No, she wasn’t very hungry. Anxiety had stolen her appetite away. Fretfulness about the coming trials and… something else. A peculiar feeling she couldn’t quite identify. There was a little voice calling out from deep in her subconscious. Nagging at her. Pulling. Though, regardless of how carefully she listened, she couldn’t make out what it was trying to say.

Ophelia sat silently at the far end of the dining table. Her fingertips strummed thoughtlessly at the crystal rim of her water glass. She hadn’t dressed for dinner but, it being just the two of them, the meal was an informal affair. A man in a livery wheeled out a cart and positioned a plate in the empty space between her cutleries just so. Steaming vegetables in a plum wine glaze. Beside them, a thick palm-sized filet; rare, red juices pooling at its base.

Her stomach flipped and she glanced subtly to the side. Ophelia hadn’t seen her father in some time and it was possible that she forgot to mention that she had decided to be a vegetarian. Well, her body had decided for her. She simply couldn’t hold what had been formerly alive in her mouth without wrenching. All she could taste was the poor creature’s death. Pain and flashes of fear from its last moments.

In a panic, she reached for her napkin and placed it over her plate. What the hell am I doing? She silently scolded. Yes, Father. As you wish, Father. Am I mad?! She, a girl who couldn’t even face her own dinner, had just agreed to Sith training. Ophelia had made many mistakes in her short life, but she was suddenly sure her greatest error yet awaited her at dawn. I should run tonight. I’ll send Father a letter explaining everything when I reach Coruscant. He loves me. He’ll understand.

She felt her Father’s gaze. Her head moved to meet it. He loves me. It was as if her plot had been uncovered and she instantly felt like such a cowered in his golden eyes.

Say something. Think of anything else, “I… noticed you were thinking of Mother earlier.” A tender subject, but it was somehow less excruciating than wrestling with her present crisis, “Don’t worry. I didn’t peek into your mind. Privacy, of course.” Hands in her lap, she wore a tiny, tired smile, “There’s just this… look you take on when you’re thinking of her. Far off and dreaming. I recognize it.”

From long, long ago. They were so happy once. All of them. In her mind’s eye, she could see her parents waiting in her Mother’s library. Ophelia had entered tentatively and approached them with as much poise as her four-year-old legs would allow. They were imposing, stately figures. Consorts on a blood-velvet sofa. Their auras glittering with dusky starlight. Holding hands. Very much in love.

“Ophelia, darling, we have wonderful news…”

That was the high-water mark of her upbringing. Her home life was never quite as bright. After Viktor was born, the consorts quarreled. Her Mother’s fury manifested as ice, extinguishing all the warmth in her proximity. Her Father’s visits became less frequent, his absence leaving gaping gulfs in their lives.

She breathed, becoming mindful again of the present, “You should reach out to her.” She began before adding, “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be presumptive, but I’m sure she would talk to you. I know she still loves you.” Ophelia’s blue eyes found him, expressing a secret wish, “Perhaps… Perhaps, somehow, we could be a family again.”

[member="Avicus DuSang"]

 

[Avicus DuSang]

Cutting into his filet, he felt the rise of panic and regret within [member="Ophelia DuSang"]. He set down his cutlery, sighing. Folding his fingers together, he left his index fingers extended, as he rested his chin on both fingers. He was about to say something when she decided to change the subject. His eyes widened when he listened to her. But, sorrow softened them.

In a puff of grey, he was gone, another puff and he kneeled beside her. He took her hand, giving her a sad smile. "Ma Belle Princesse, you have a heart of gold. Unfortunately, I pushed your mother away because of who I am as a person. You have always seen the good in me, in every situation. But, it's far too late for things to be fixed between your mother and I. And because I love her so much, I can't be with her. I'm afraid I would only hurt her again..."

Tears of blood began streaming down his face. He carried so much guilt for their falling out. Hated himself for what he did. All of the wine, women, and spice in the Galaxy couldn't fill that hole. That, of course, never deterred him from trying. He was a creature of indulgence, afterall. It was never enough. The Hedonist. The Cynic in our Golden Age.

Slowly standing, he wiped the tears from his face as he kissed his daughter on the cheek. "Forgive me, but I'm going to bed." His fingers lingered on Phie's hand before he made his way towards the door. Halfway there, he stopped. Turning to her, he couldn't help but smirk. "Oh. And don't even think about running back to Coruscant. I will drag you back kicking and screaming, if I must." His tone was jovial, but the implications were there. He certainly had the capabilities of doing what he said.

"Je t'aime, Phie."

Making his way into his room, he poured himself a glass of brandy. Damian approached him, helping him take off his jacket. "Forgive me, my Lord. I didn't realize she was a vegetarian." Avicus took a drink of the brandy, enjoying it's many flavours before turning back to his assistant. "Hardly your fault, Damian. I should've known. She's my little girl, afterall." Damian folded the jacket, putting it in a basket before turning his attention back to the God of Death.

"She's not a little girl anymore."

Avicus sighed, nodding. "C'est vrai. That's why I need to get her training started soon. This new version of the Galaxy is no less deadly than it was centuries ago. I can't lose her again." Damian nodded, taking his leave of the room. "You won't, my Lord. She's very strong. You showed her how to be strong. Now you'll show her how to be stronger." Avicus nodded, getting into bed as he set his glass on the nightstand.